#which is fun. because of the (admittedly minimal) muscles

[bugmistake]

broooooo i'm supposed to receive two deliveries at work today and BOTH of them are LATEEEE.... please please please show up so i can get this OVER WITHHHH

[inspiteofganon]

@bloobluebloo replied to your post “does anyone else play "does the artist think...”:

I play a broader game of "does the artist actually appreciate the character" because, as you mention, there are traits an artist might give him that may seem undesirable to me but are desirable to the artist in question. There are certain kinks and tropes that some people really like (for example, those people that really are into draw very large very well defined muscles which admittedly, not my thing) and a lot of those people also really like Ganondorf. Anyways the only time I really see Ganondorf draw in an "ugly" way imo is if the purpose of his portrayal is to show him being a threat or menace because ugly = evil. I find this is reflected in the way many people's initial reaction to wanting or desiring a Ganondorf with more character development was "you just want that because you think he's hot"

​That's the idea! And that's why trying to sus out context is such a big part of it when getting more specific than that (the game is rendered mostly over if the artist comes out and says their opinion on his looks, or does something obvious like selfship with him). Usually I don't have enough of a sample size-- especially for artworks where not a lot is happening-- to determine a more certain "hot or not?" It's easier to determine if the artist may struggle with him, or find him uncool, what features they try and bring out or minimize when depicting him... Ganondorf has such a distinct look about him that he varies a lot when people draw him because it's honestly kind of hard to capture, which is part of the fun of the game.

Plenty of times one isn't actively trying to make Ganondorf ugly-- he is a fit and well-dressed fellow with a cool visage-- but even if all the "handsome" ingredients are there... it just won't combine into the right vibe. Heck, even if a work is pornographic and Ganondorf is a key figure, the piece can still radiate major "doesn't really find him attractive" vibes! (this usually being result of him either just being there as a vehicle for an act rather than a facet of the big picture to be oogled, or looking so off-model he basically becomes an OC) "Finding Ganondorf hot" is a wide spectrum, so in playing this game I gotta be mindful that yes indeed... the artist might simply be into things I'm not.

A lot of people seem to just be trying to make him recognizable at all. Like "OK, here's Ganondorf", and they succeed well enough. It's a harder game outside of art that's longform sequential or shippy. He's not a common focus with depth, sadly.

I hesitate to give any contemporary examples of Ganondorfs I could clock as "artist probably thinks he's on the ugly side" in public since I don't wanna make any online artists who're up and around offended (though it's not a game I play to be mean), so I'll pull a few vintage 'Dorfs from History of Hyrule's library to give everyone a brief session of the game. This one's easy.

At a glance of these three... which artist probably found Ganondorf the most appealing?

[thran-duils]

Jealous Sea

Title: Jealous Sea Summary: I took the prompt “Jealous dark!Tony smut with a reader who’s already in an established relationship.  Get that Suit involved as a side too.” from @sherrybaby14‘s latest prompt challenge. The fic is told from Tony’s POV with a very small POV from the reader. I took inspo from The Avengers and Iron Man 2.

I listened to this song a lot while writing this, which the fic is named after. Words: 2,962 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Dub-con, character death, smut, stalking, unprotected sex 

Masterpost

Connor’s arm snaked around her waist with ease and she comfortably leaned into him, not breaking stride in her conversation.

The muscles in Tony’s jaw tightened, the shine dulling ever so slightly at this intrusion.

To him, it was an intrusion; to Y/N, it was merely her fiancé coming to her side to engage with her and his colleague. Well, boss. Tony was his boss.

Connor was naïve. Tolerable for Tony at best. The man had his smarts – you had to in order to be able to work at Stark Industries – but his scope was too small for Tony’s liking. He could grasp the here and now but lacked the foresight to see the bigger picture. Tony had been considering if it would be possible to find a replacement for Connor up until the Christmas party a few months ago.

Connor had brought his fiancé finally, the one he had been gushing about at every opportunity – another quirk that had gotten under Tony’s skin quite quickly – but had been unable to bring in because she was running research abroad.

Admittedly, Tony had not even bothered to check up on the fiancé on social media – or Connor’s social media, for that matter – his concern minimal to none about Connor’s personal life. Perhaps if he had, he could have saved himself the slight embarrassment of flirting with her when he spotted her at a table alone at the party. His jaw had almost gone slack when she introduced herself as Connor’s fiancé and politely side stepped his flirtations.

Since then, Tony made sure to attend every after work get together and somehow always be around when she stopped by the office. Every smile she sent his way lit his core. He desired to possess her for his own. Such an exquisite being was wasted on Connor.

He had been elated to find her alone once more at this launch party, swooping in quickly, the woman who had tried to glue herself to his side discarded carelessly.

Tony asked genuine questions about her work, basking in the joy she emanated discussing it. His eyes lingered at her lips, imagining how soft they would feel against his.

Of course, Connor had to ruin the moment with his goober smile and inane jokes. It was some solace that Y/N seemed interested in continuing the conversation though with him and did not seem to want to leave. It gave Tony hope.

<> <> <>

As the months drug on, the wedding loomed closer. Tony grew ever irritable that Y/N continued to be attracted to Connor, despite his subtle advancements to her. He was right in front of her for god’s sake. Smarter. Richer. More attractive. He tried to fathom what would get her to notice him. His insatiable desire to taste her, his lips running up her thighs into that sweet spot always ate away at him.

Water dripped down her skin as she emerged from the water, coming back up onto the yacht. Connor had been grateful Tony had invited them to boat with him. Of course, Connor did not know that without Y/N he would not have even come within sniffing distance of Tony’s yacht. It was worth having to put up with him if Tony got to be on the receiving end of just one more bright smile from Y/N.

Yet, each smile thrown his way still ended up with her sitting with or on Connor, not him.

He needed Connor out of the way. That was the only path that made sense.

<> <> <>

It had been too easy. Y/N had been abroad again when Loki’s army attached New York City, so she was not in danger.

All it had taken was Tony leading the giant son of a bitch alien to their street and cutting a quick corner. The alien had taken out Connor’s penthouse in its attempt to follow him.

Afterward, Tony had flown back by to make sure the job had indeed been done.

Too easy.

<> <> <>

Y/N agreed to take a job in California when Tony offered to help. She wanted to start fresh; being in New York was too painful. Tony was elated when she took it a step further and accepted his offer to live in his mansion until she found a place of her own. He was determined that his place would be more than enough.

But weeks turned to a month and she was still insisting she would be out of his hair soon despite his protests. She was beginning to spend less time at his place, burying herself in her work. Tony consistently extended dinner invitations to exclusive restaurants, which she did accept but was not responding to him and his hints about joining him afterwards. Too many times she left him downstairs rejected.

It was wearing on him.

He needed to relax, unwind, and possibly just bury himself under a couple women. Or three.

<> <> <>

Reader POV

You groaned when you pulled into the driveway, seeing it packed with cars. The day had been long and all you really wanted to do was take a hot bath and then slip into some comfortable pajamas.

Thankfully, you had a remote to the garage and did not have to worry about parking.

Once inside, you contemplated the easiest route from the elevator that ended in the front hall to your bedroom upstairs. The music was already reaching your ears as you stepped into the elevator.

<> <> <>

Jarvis alerted Tony through his Iron Man suit the moment Y/N had pulled into the garage. Smiling at the news, he knocked back the rest of his drink, ready to fetch himself a fresh one as well as get her one.

He passed by people, the suit clunking as he walked. Halfway to the kitchen, he leaned in when an attractive brunette woman beckoned him, and she pulled him in for a kiss.

“As lovely as you are,” Tony said against her lips before pulling away. “I am on a time sensitive mission.”

The woman kept her hands on the chest of the suit as she pouted, “Is it anything I can help you with?”

“Um, yeah, actually,” Tony told her distracted and her face lit up as Jarvis was updating him that Y/N was getting into the elevator. He wanted to intercept her before she managed to get upstairs. “Could you be a peach and make two gin and tonics? Doubles?”

“Going hard tonight?” she joked.

“I’ll be right back. Promise. Have them ready.”

Tony moved through the crowd, briefly greeting people who called for his attention, focused on moving quick.

He made it in the nick of time. The doors dinged open right when he arrived.

Even through his buzzed state he could tell Y/N was like a deer in headlights. Yes, she had meant to sneak up stairs without even so much as a ‘hi’. Good thing he got there when he had.

“Y/N, even after a long day of work, you still manage to look ravishing. Won’t you join me for a drink or two?”

“Oh,” Y/N stammered. She forced a smile and said over the music, “It’s a little crowded in here. I think being upstairs where it’s quiet –”

“Nonsense,” Tony cut her off. He decided he was going to more assertive than usual. This night was going to be different. He waved her forward to him. “Come, come. Join the fun.”

“Tony –”

“I insist,” he again interjected, coming to her instead and slipping his arm around her shoulders. He saw her concerned look at his hand, and he chortled, “Don’t worry. It won’t just go off. I have to active it and actually have something I want to shoot. Come! Join the party! I daresay you need to kick back and relax. I have drinks waiting for us back in the kitchen. You like gin and tonic, correct?”

Y/N nodded, keeping up with his stride.

The woman was waiting by the counter, searching the crowd for his return. When her eyes landed on Y/N – who was looking flustered – her face fell immediately. Tony did not care about the shocked look on her face.

Gesturing at the glasses, he asked, “These mine?”

“Yes, but –”

“Thank you so much,” He said. Picking them up, despite the hurt look on the woman’s face, he handed the other to Y/N. “My lovely roommate – who is a brilliant scientist by the way – just got home. She looks a bit peckish too.” He leaned in concerned to Y/N. “We should get you something to eat. Otherwise this will go right to your head and you won’t last. And we are definitely staying up late.”

Y/N and the woman barely got a syllable out each before Tony pressed on, “There’s some pizza on the patio. Lots of it. Here.” He reached out, pushing the cup up to Y/N’s lips. “There we go. Big swig.” He took once and she sheepishly followed suit. “Lovely!” To the woman, he said, “That’s a damn good drink. Are you a bartender? Thanks again.”

Tony pulled Y/N through the crowd, encouraging her with another drink.

“What was that about your concern about it going to my head?” Y/N half joked when they stepped out onto the patio where people were lounging and swimming in the pool.

Tony threw her a smirk. “Always with the quips.” They approached the boxes and he made sure she grabbed a slice. He did not want her passing out too soon; that was the truth.

He managed to coerce her to have a refill and mingle with people. Y/N relaxed halfway through the second double. Tony continued throwing compliments her way about how she was helping her research team tremendously and how he wished she would agree to come work for him. Despite her relaxation, he could tell she was still one foot in and one foot out. She blushed when he praised her, her eyes moving to the door back inside every so often. He was growing agitated – why could she not just accept his affection? She always toed the line, lightly commenting in flirtation or brushing his hand with her fingers. Yet, when push came to shove, she jumped back.

His annoyance boiled to a point when she leaned in to tell him she should probably go upstairs.

“There’s nothing for you up there,” Tony remarked, laughing humorlessly.

“My tub is and so is my bed. Really, Tony. I’m tired. It’s been a good time but I’m ready to really relax.”

“Could have fooled me that you were having a good time,” Tony said curtly.

Y/N looked at him confused at his swift change in demeanor. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Tony replied, shrugging briskly. “Maybe I would think it was a ruse because you’ve been wanting to get away from me the moment you walked inside. That’s been evident.”

“What? What are you –”

“No. Don’t deny it.”

Y/N was starting to look uncomfortable, eyes on the people around because some were taking notice of his vexed tone.

“Seriously, Tony. It’s not you. I really did have a long day.”

Sighing exasperated, Tony told her, “That seems to be the excuse every time. So, forgive me if I’m just a little bit, you know, bristled.”

“I… I don’t know what you want me to say. I just want to go upstairs where it’s quiet.”

“Quiet?” Tony asked, anger rolling the more she denied her rejection of him. All the rejections. He flipped the mask down to cover his face completely, starting up the suit. “We can go somewhere quiet if that is what you wish.”

Y/N looked frightened as he advanced, and he ignored all the other eyes on them.

She protested when he picked her up and into his arms and he shot up into the sky. Her panicked shriek was lost to the wind as he jettisoned away from his property, holding her tightly to make sure she did not fall from his embrace.

If she wanted somewhere quiet, that is what she was going to get.

Tony landed at the edge of the beach below his mansion, only letting go of Y/N when they were safely landed. She stumbled back away from him, hair windswept and face flushed.

He activated the suit to open and he stepped out of it as it unwrapped from around him. His gaze was burning into Y/N, determined to make headway and get what he wanted.

Throwing his hands out, he asked, “This quiet enough? I mean, besides the waves?”

Y/N seemed to find her grounding again. Her brow pinched in anger as she stepped towards him. “What the hell is your problem, Tony? How much have you had to drink?”

Tony chuckled darkly, closing the remainder of the space between them. She glared up at him, demanding, “Well?”

He was tired of her defiant behavior. Suddenly, he reached up and wound his fingers tightly in her hair, yanking her head back. She let out a sharp cry as he pulled her to him.

“What do I have to do to get your attention, Y/N?” he growled. “Haven’t I done enough? Wasn’t I there for you? Have I not been good to you?”

“What?” Y/N exclaimed. “God, yes. I –”

Tony cut her off, slamming his lips to hers, holding her close. She struggled against him, protesting against his mouth, but he resisted. He moaned, dominating her with his embrace. His hands gripped tightly, relishing in having her close.

Muffled, he heard, “Tony, please.”

“I love hearing you say that,” he told her, his voice rumbling low in his chest. He pulled her away far enough to look down at her, his eyes blown wide with lust.

Again, she fought to get out of his arms, but he pushed her up against the rock behind her.

“I have wanted this for so long. I’ve wanted you for so long,” Tony declared, his hands grasped tight on her arms, holding her in place in front of him. “I know you have wanted it too. I’ve felt it. And you just feel guilty. You don’t have to feel guilty, Y/N. I promise. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be appreciated. I want to give you everything. I’ve been trying to.”

“Please,” she tried again, weaker this time in her resolve.

Good, he was waning her resistance down. If she could only admit she wanted him too.

“Let me love you,” Tony breathed, forcibly pulling her shirt over her head. His hands moved quickly to her bra clasp and she reached up to try to stop him shakily. He brushed her hands aside easily. “Now, let’s give in. Y/N. You know you want to. I know you want to.”

He did not wait for her to respond before undoing her bra and tossing it aside. His fingers fluttered across her nipples and she gasped lightly, aroused. Licking his index and thumb, he brought them down to caress her erect nipple gently, his weight pinning her to the rock with his muscular thighs. She whimpered; her knuckles white with how tight she was gripping the rock behind her.

“See?” Tony practically purred, giving her nipple a brief pinch. She keened this time and he groaned at her arching her back, his cock hardening quickly in his pants.

With doe eyes, she looked up at him, not protesting him anymore.

This is what he had had to do this whole time. Be forceful, she needed a strong hand. Her bottoms went next.

“Out here?” she squeaked.

“Under the stars,” Tony assured her. “I want to see you bathed in moonlight.”

One last press surfaced from her. “I don’t know –”

He cur her off with a finger to her lips, “Just don’t think.”

Tony tugged her away from the rock and moved her down to the ground. He tore his own shirt over his head, losing his pants as well. Laying her back down on the grass, he pressed his weight on her, her hands cupping the sides of his head. She was soft, her skin smelled of the lilac soap she was so fond of. Her fingers dug in behind his ears as his tongue slipped past her lips, tasting her more deeply.

He pressed himself past her wet folds, groaning at the tightness as she gasped at the intrusion, slowly adjusting to him. His lips trailed sloppy kisses along her jawline as he increased his depth.

“Mhm, you’re a goddamn goddess,” Tony husked, bottoming out with a deep thrust causing her to cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.

Building up speed, their bodies moved in tandem.

“You’re mine,” Tony growled, his hips snapping. Finally, rang in his head.

Foreheads pressed together, their breath erratic, Tony felt exhilaration. It was not simply because of the sex but because he was possessing her as he always should have. There was no coming back from this. He had reached the turning point he wanted to and he was not going to let her go. Ever.

And his next move was to make sure she stayed.

He came inside her with a loud grunt, his body trembling with his orgasm as he emptied. She keened, her knees digging into his sides as she climaxed around him, adding to his sensation. He moaned in approval, smothering her with a new round of deep kisses.

She laid panting underneath him, her eyes glossed over with arousal and exhaustion. His lips curled ever so slightly, loving the sight.

“You’re going to make a wonderful mother,” he praised quietly, pecking her with light kisses that ended at her lips. “I’m going to take such good care of you.”

~~~

Tags: @sherrybaby14

[icyharrington]

Is It Wrong?- Part 7 (Michael Langdon X Reader)

hello!!! so i have been trying so hard these past few weeks trying to get this final part of iiw right. i am insanely nervous to put this out there, because i don’t wanna disappoint any of the amazing people who followed this series from the beginning. i wanna thank all the thirsty hoes who have supported this fic and given me feedback, because y’all are the reason i had the motivation to finish the series. this is the most fun i’ve ever had writing anything, ever. i can’t believe this series is finally coming to an end 🤧BUTTTTT don’t forget that there will be an additional, shorter epilogue chapter! so stay tuned for that ;) I LOVE Y’ALL!!!! 

plot: michael langdon is a picture-perfect fuckboy, and, lucky for you, he’s also your stepbrother. how will you survive?

warnings: inappropriate relationships, fuckboy michael, fem!Reader, high school au, teen angst, like seriously A FUCK TON OF TEEN ANGST, fluff, vaginal fingering, handjobs, sexual intercourse, (semi?) public sex, dirty talk

word count: 12.8k (IM SORRY LMFAOOO) 

tags: @alicecooper19 @ritualmichael @blackfyrez @bbyduncan @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @michaelsapostle @trelaney @kissydevil @langdonalien @langdonsdemon @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @wroteclassicaly @cocosfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @theinevitableprophecy @sodanova @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @divinelangdon @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @nana15774 @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer @pr1ncessd1e @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @prophesieddarling @isoldedax @fckinsupreme @lvngdvns @hisgirlwonder @telexnesis @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @noelle525 @kleinegamerin @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @anacerta @nuke-em-from-orbit @thingsthatoncemeantnothing @littledemondani @beriveri @dcvilrising @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @imjustasadhoe @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @michaelsfrenchtoast @ms-mead @sarcasticbxtch20 @ringpop-poppy @coollangdon @s7venwonders @littlehouseofleaves @elvahavax @king-of-mischief-and-bitchez @alternativepetewentz @maytheforcebewithqueen

(sorry to anyone who asked to be tagged but isn’t in my tag list!! tumblr won’t let me tag certain blogs for some reason!!)

i.

“Goddamn it, how hard is it for you to follow simple GPS directions?” Miriam’s voice was pitched in annoyance as she scolded your father, whose knuckles were near white from how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel.

“You know what? Why don’t I just pull over, and you drive instead?” your father snapped. You and Michael exchanged a glance in the back seat for what seemed like the thousandth time since you’d all loaded into the car several hours before.

In celebration of summer vacation, and you and Michael’s recent graduation from high school, your father and Miriam had decided to arrange something of an impromptu vacation. Your father was far too cheap to travel anywhere of any significant distance, so he’d decided that the next best option was to take a road trip down to Myrtle Beach, Florida.

“Oh my god, yes,” Michael had said to you after your parents had broken the news to you both. “Do you know how many half-naked sluts we’re gonna see there? Myrtle Beach is like, white trash central.”

That comment had been the fuel for one of the many arguments you and Michael had engaged in following graduation; there was tension in the air, hanging thick and heavy over your heads as the days crept along, and the mindless bickering between you and Michael was at an all time high.

Not that it stopped either of you from having sex. Quite the contrary, in fact— you and Michael had been having so much sex that it was maybe even getting a little ridiculous.

“Seriously, Michael?” you’d said after his crude comment, your tone far whinier than originally intended. “Go fuck one of those half-naked white trash sluts instead of me, then.”

It’d taken him several minutes to convince you that he’d been joking (even though you were still fairly certain that he’d been dead serious) followed by some admittedly top-quality make up sex, which proved to be enough to convince you to move on.

Maybe something was in the water, you thought. Even Miriam and your father had seemed to be fighting constantly as of late, and the stressful atmosphere of the household made you feel constantly on edge; it almost felt like there was an impending disaster coming, one that was impossible to prevent. You only hoped that whatever disaster might be on its way would avoid you and Michael.

Right now, Michael was leaning with his forehead resting against the window, a bored look on his face as he skipped through the music playing on his phone. He only had one earbud in, the other draped over his shoulder (presumably so he could eavesdrop on your parents’ ridiculous arguments), dressed casually in light gray sweatpants and a faded Jimi Hendrix shirt.

Fuck, he looked good. He was jostled slightly with each slight motion of the car as it moved forward, the muscles in his arms subtly flexing as he reached up to run his fingers through his soft, tousled blond hair. For a second, your mind was clouded with images of a beach-bound Michael, his tanned, water-speckled torso lean but still toned, swimming trunks clinging to the lowest point of his narrow hips and leaving almost nothing up to the imagination. Your mouth watered.

“You know, if I’d driven, we would’ve actually arrived at the hotel by the time the GPS said,” Miriam said.

“So why didn’t you!?” your father exclaimed.

You locked eyes with Michael yet again, whose pale eyes glimmered with slight amusement at the nonstop back-and-forth between your parents.

“Because you insisted on driving.”

“Insisted? All I did was offer to drive out of the kindness of my— oh fuck, I think we just passed the hotel.”

“We did,” offered Michael flatly from the backseat, the soft glow of the neon hotel sign reflecting in his pupils as he craned his neck to follow the building.

“Goddamn it,” your father muttered, scanning the road for somewhere to make a U-turn.

“Nice going,” Miriam muttered under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest.

You were jerked forward as your father abruptly turned the car around in an act that you were ninety-nine percent sure was illegal; in a matter of seconds, the car was parked in the hotel parking lot, officially marking the end of the several-hour-long trek. Everyone seemed to let out a unanimous sigh of relief.

“Fucking finally,” said Michael, opening the door and swinging his legs outside so his ratty Converse sneakers made contact with the asphalt. You followed suit, making your way around to the trunk, which you popped open to retrieve your colorful travel bag.

The sound of crickets chirping through the mild Florida night was soothing despite its incessantness, and you found yourself smiling idly, a warm breeze gently caressing your face. So maybe you weren’t in the goddamn Dominican Republic, but you were still prepared to enjoy your time here.

Once everyone had taken their respective belongings from the trunk, your father led the way to the front entrance of the hotel.

The hotel lobby was nice, but certainly nothing special; it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the sole reason your father had chosen this place above all others was because it was the cheapest. Your father, weighed down with his overstuffed black bag, trudged over to the front desk with a pained look on his face.

“Imagine this place is infested with roaches,” said Michael lowly, flashing you a shit-eating grin when your face paled at this terrifying prospect.

“Shut up. My dad isn’t that much of a cheapskate.”

“Or what if it’s haunted?” he said, furrowing his brows to mimic a deadly serious expression.

“It’ll be haunted by your ghost in about five seconds if you don’t shut your mouth.”

“I saw this thing online about a girl who went missing, and then they found her in the water tower of the hotel,” he continued, and you rolled your eyes. It wasn’t at all surprising that he was trying to scare you. “And like, all the people staying there were showering and stuff, but little did they know they were washing themselves in dead body water.”

“Can you shut up, please?”

His plump lips contorted into a devious smile. “What, am I scaring you?”

“No, you’re just being really fucking annoying.”

“Aww, don’t worry, (y/n). I’ll protect you from any ghosts or cockroaches that might be here.” He pulled you into a side hug, squeezing you against him with an iron grip as he nuzzled the top of your head with his chin. You pulled away, exerting minimal strength but still managing to evade his grasp.

“Are you going to be this obnoxious the entire trip?” you said, watching as your father appeared to be looking for something in his pockets. After patting himself down for several seconds, he said something to the man behind the front desk; whatever it was that he’d said resulted in Miriam’s face contorting into a look that could easily kill anyone three times over.

“Here we go,” Michael whispered, mouth twitching at the corners as he averted his attention away from you and onto your parents instead.

“You’re an idiot,” Miriam was saying, practically seething as she spoke. “A goddamn idiot. How the hell did you manage to forget the credit card?!”

Your father’s mouth opened and closed as he attempted to come up with a response good enough to satiate his fuming wife, but of course there was none.

“How did he forget the credit card?” Michael said.

You shrugged.

Miriam huffed loudly as she began to dig through her purse, shooting your father a contemptuous glare when her hand emerged, leather wallet in tow. You watched as she pulled out her credit card, handing it over the front desk to the visibly uncomfortable man standing there.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, the muscles in your arms starting to burn from the weight of your travel bag.

Michael, having apparently lost interest in your parents’ altercation, suddenly turned back to face you. “You think I’ll be able to pass for over 21 at the hotel bar?”

Before you could respond, your father was making his way over to you, brandishing two key cards in either hand. “We decided it’d be best for all of us if you and Michael had your own room. You guys don’t mind, do you?”

He handed you a card, and as you looked it over, you tried your hardest not to pay any attention to Michael.

It was truly astounding how clueless everyone seemed to be in regards to your relationship (if you could call it that) with your stepbrother, but you definitely weren’t complaining. Just the thought of having a room all to yourselves was enough to make your heart race.

“Of course we don’t mind,” you said with a smile.

“Just— y’know. Miriam and I have some things we need to work out, and, well, I don’t want you guys swept up in any of the drama,” said your father.

“Totally understandable, dad,” said Michael, beaming as he snaked his free arm around your shoulders. “I’m sure we’ll be able to manage. What do you think, (y/n)?”

Michael widened his eyes at you, the contorted features of his porcelain face dripping with faux-innocence.

“Yeah, I think so,” you said, tone cheerful and sweet.

In unison, you and Michael looked away from one another and back to your father. His eyes were shadowed with deep rings, and he looked more like he was about to head off to a 9-to-5 shift at a dead-end job rather than a vacation with his family. “You kids be good, all right?”

“Don’t worry,” you said, ripples of electricity making their way up your spine as Michael lightly stroked your shoulder with his calloused fingertips. “We will.”

ii.

“Room number 69, huh?” Michael said with a quirk of his eyebrow, licking his lips as he plucked the key card from your hand and slid it into its designated slot by the door. “It’s like they knew we were gonna be staying here.”

“You are eighteen years old,” you said in a monotone, though secretly Michael’s immature sense of humor and silliness were qualities that never failed in making your heart swell.

There was a subtle beep as the light next to the slot flickered green, and Michael pushed open the door with one shoulder, the other occupied with his bag. “How fucking awesome is this?”

You followed him into the modestly-sized room, discarding your bag at the end of one of the two pristinely made beds. Michael did the same, and without even giving you time to settle into your new surroundings, he pushed you firmly up against the nearest empty wall.

Even despite the fact that he’d been sitting in a hot car for several hours (unsurprisingly, your father was very stingy with the air conditioning), Michael still managed to smell good; the intoxicating mixture of his shampoo, paired alongside his boyish deodorant and woodsy cologne, was dizzying from such a close proximity.

“You didn’t waste any time,” you chuckled, cheeks flushing as he began to pepper kisses along your neck and behind your ear, lifting one hand to brush your hair over your shoulder.

“Why would I?” he said, his voice low and seductive. He took a moment to playfully nip at your earlobe, and you squealed, wrapping your arms around him so you could pull his firm torso closer to yours. “What else are you supposed to do when you’re left all alone with such a pretty girl?”

As much as you weren’t willing to admit it, your heart soared at this validation- Michael thought you were a pretty girl. Those words, coming from that perfect mouth, made you feel a childish sense of giddiness, gave you butterflies in the pit of your stomach like an innocent playground crush.

Michael wandered one hand up over the curve of your hip and onto your waist, lips still moving open-mouthed against your jugular and around to the front of your throat. Reaching up to the back of Michael’s head, you took a fistful of butterscotch-colored hair at the root, using it to guide him back towards your face. Then you kissed him, hard and passionate, your fingers threading easily through his waves as his tongue slipped past yours and into your mouth.

Ding!

You assumed Michael’s phone had just gone off, but neither of you paid it any mind, your breath hitching as Michael slid one veined hand up under your tank top to grope your left breast.

Ding!

“My pretty baby sis,” Michael breathed, swollen mouth slick with saliva. Panting softly, he continued to ignore his phone, tugging his t-shirt over his head and tossing it behind him haphazardly.

With his upper body exposed to you now, you took the opportunity to trace your fingers down the length of his subtly defined abs, stopping just beneath his navel. Just below that, after the cute trail of fuzzy blond hair that paved the way to his v-line, was the low-hanging waistband of his gray sweatpants; you hooked your fingers there, just barely pulling the fabric down as you eyed the mouthwatering bulge prominent in the front of his pants.

You couldn’t help yourself- biting your lower lip, you brought your hand between Michael’s legs and grasped his semi-erect length through the soft material of his pants.

Ding! Ding!

Michael hissed, but he seemed to be somewhat distracted now; you knit your eyebrows as he twisted around to face the source of the interruption- his phone, which he’d left on one of the beds.

Ding!

“What is that?” you asked, frowning. It wasn’t often that Michael tolerated anything getting in the way of his hookups, so you found it mildly concerning when he broke away from you entirely to go and grab his phone.

His tongue poked out of the corner of his lips as he looked at his screen, and you could tell that he was stifling a smirk. “Oh. Uh, it’s nothing.”

You moved from your place against the wall, approaching Michael with your arms crossed in front of your chest. Sure, maybe it was none of your business, seeing that you weren’t Michael’s girlfriend or anything, but he’d piqued your curiosity.

Ding! Ding! Michael fumbled with the phone for a second before turning it on silent.

You cocked your head to one side. “No really, what is that?”

Michael had hidden his phone behind his back now, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

Okay, now you had to know.

“C’mon, lemme see,” you said, trying your hardest not to sound upset. Why were you upset, anyway? You reached around Michael to take his phone from his hand, which, surprisingly, he allowed you to do without much protest.

You looked down at his phone, jaw dropping as you began reading over the several notifications stretching down the length of his screen.

NEW MATCH! With Sofi

NEW MATCH! With Katherine

NEW MATCH! With Kristen

NEW MATCH! With Mallory

NEW MATCH! With Caitlin

NEW MATCH! With Anna

Your eyes flickered up to Michael’s face, down to the phone screen, and then back again, unsure of how exactly you were supposed to react to such a discovery. Michael just offered you a sheepish shrug, somehow only pissing you off further, and angrily you shoved his phone back into his hands.

“Are you fucking kidding? We’ve been here for less than an hour and you’re already trying to find hoes on Tinder?”

“Well, I mean, that’s one way to put it,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to see what kind of girls live around here, I swear. I wasn’t actually gonna-“

“-Whatever,” you mumbled, bending over to unzip your travel bag. It wasn’t like you had any sort of right to be pissed- Michael could do what he wanted, and if what he wanted was to hook up with random Tinder girls, then so be it. Still, though, you couldn’t help but feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You rifled around in your bag until you came upon the neat ziploc bag full of travel-sized shower essentials, which you tucked under your arm. “I’m gonna go take a shower. I feel gross.”

“Wait, (y/n). Are you mad at me?” You weren’t sure if he actually cared about hurting your feelings, or if he was worried that you wouldn’t want to fuck him anymore; either way, you didn’t think right now was the best of times to be honest about your feelings.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Your voice sounded dangerously close to breaking, and you knew it (and so did Michael, most likely).

“Well… I dunno. You seemed pretty pissed just now.”

“No, no. Do whatever you want. Fuck as many Tinder girls as your heart desires. It’s not like we’re exclusive.” You continued to search through your bag, pulling out your pajamas and hair towel and tucking them alongside your shower supplies.

“Someone sounds bitter,” Michael mused, causing you to narrow your eyes at him in a focused, pointed glare.

“I thought it was sort of established already that this-“ he motioned at himself, and then to you- “isn’t gonna go anywhere. So I don’t really see the harm in looking around.”

Instantly, you felt a lump form in the back of your throat.

He was right. You’d even said it yourself, that nothing good would ever become of this thing you had with Michael; as much as you wanted it to, it was impossible. So why did it hurt so bad to hear it coming from him?

“Which is why I’m not mad,” you said, swallowing thickly. “Do what you want. I don’t care.”

But, like the cliché you were, you did care. Thinking of Michael with anyone else made you feel sick to your stomach. But what were you supposed to do about it? You were his stepsister.

God, if only things had been different. If only the universe hadn’t brought you together in the most inconvenient and unconventional of ways.

You turned on your heels, leaving Michael behind as you made your way to the bathroom without another word.

Once you’d started the shower and adjusted the temperature, you stripped down, catching a glimpse in the mirror of the many marks adorning your body that Michael had left behind at some point or another- hickeys (some bright lilac and navy blue, while others were fading shades of yellow and pink, all speckled down your chest and over your breasts), fingerprint-shaped bruises, shallow scratches.

And those were just the physical ways that Michael had marked you; you were sure that if you turned yourself inside out, there would be thousands more markings to be found.  

You thought maybe this was exactly what you needed right now: a long, hot shower to clear your head. Maybe, if the mood struck, you’d even cry a little bit, just to get your emotions in order.

You stepped into the shower, flinching at the intensity of the stream as it cascaded relentlessly over your body. Shutting your eyes, you ran your palms over your face, skin prickling at the pleasant warmth of the water. After you’d allowed your hair to get sufficiently soaked, you reached for your travel-sized bottle of shampoo, squirting some of the coconut-scented gel into your hand and working up a lather.

You were halfway through your usual hair-washing routine when you heard the bathroom door open; you opened one eye, hardly wider than a squint, to see a tall, blond-haired figure through the steamy glass shower door entering the bathroom. Though the thick layer of steam on the door heavily obscured the intruder, you were still able to see that whoever had entered was butt fucking naked.

Fucking Michael.

There was a metallic squeak as the shower door slid open, revealing an image to you that must’ve been hand-delivered by an angel. There, in all his naked glory, stood Michael, one hand positioned by his side and the other gripping his impressively hard cock.

It was a miracle you didn’t slip and crack your skull open right then.

“Hey,” said Michael coolly, a smug smirk appearing on his lips when he noticed you staring at his length.

“Michael, what are you doing?” you asked, attempting to sound just a little less eager than you were feeling. You tilted your head back, quickly washing away the excess shampoo in your hair, and as you did this, Michael joined you in the shower.

“Saving water,” Michael replied, pulling the door shut and enclosing the two of you within the stream.

“How environmentally friendly of you.”

“Aww, are you still mad at me?” You tensed as he grabbed your hips and brought you closer to him, the head of his cock brushing your stomach and sending chills throughout your body.

“I was never mad at you,” you said flatly. You kept rinsing your hair, refusing to give Michael the attention he clearly was so desperately seeking (not yet, at least).

“You were a little jealous though, weren’t you?” he teased, squeezing your tits without warning and making you jump. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ve already told you before that your pussy is my favorite.”

“I was never worried,” you snapped, but you couldn’t deny the arousal that immediately resulted from Michael’s words.

“Whatever you say, baby,” said Michael, spinning you around so that your back was pressed against his bare chest. You shivered at the feeling of his big cock on your ass, and all at once, whatever snarky comeback you’d been formulating disintegrated into nothingness.

Your eyes fell shut as Michael’s hands traveled over your body, his touch gentle but still possessive; he stopped at your tits, kneading the smooth peaks in both hands until they stung, kissing your shoulder when you squirmed at the slight discomfort. “Just relax and let your big brother take care of you.”

He retrieved your body wash off the ledge in the shower, gathering some in his palms and returning his attention to your tits. You leaned back, resting the back of your head on his broad shoulder as he began rubbing the body wash all over you (mainly focusing on your breasts, because what else would you expect from Michael Langdon?).

His slippery hands felt like heaven on your tits, pinching and toying with your nipples just the way you liked. It wasn’t until his hand began dipping lower, though, that your breath caught in your throat.

His fingers trailed past your stomach and down to cup your cunt, goosebumps erupting across your skin as he hummed in your ear. Your entire body reacted to his touch, muscles tightening and thighs trembling, hips rolling back so you could better feel his deliciously thick cock against your back.

“You like that? Like how I touch you?” he murmured, his words reverberating against your throat and igniting a fresh wave of arousal between your legs.

With one hand, he used his fingers to splay apart your outer lips, gathering some of your wetness by stroking up and down your slit while his other hand worked at your tits. A familiar heat began to spread from behind your navel, and paired with the near-scalding warmth and great pressure of the shower stream, you felt your head start to spin.

You laid your head back on Michael’s shoulder, trusting him to keep you balanced as you reclined limply against him. His fingers moved upwards again, using the sticky arousal on the tips of his fingers to massage slow, lazy circles over your aching bud; you let out a gravelly moan just as Michael administered a sharp pinch to your hardened nipple.

“Fuck, Michael… feels so good.”

You were well past the point of preserving your pride, bucking your hips against Michael’s hand while trying to squeeze your thighs shut around it, keeping him close to you.

“Hm? Is that right? You like when I touch your pussy?” His voice was husky, rich and warm like a roll of tropical thunder; swallowing noisily, you bobbed your head up and down in agreement.

Garnering what little energy you had left, you extended your arm behind you, spreading your fingers in search of Michael’s erection; tongue darting out to wet your chapped lips at the feeling of his stiff, smooth skin, you followed the slightly jutting vein that wound up the side of his length, stopping at the head of his cock and running your thumb over his leaking slit.

He groaned at the sensation, encouraging you on. You returned your hand to the base of his cock, grazing your fingers along his sensitive balls before taking a firm hold of his shaft, pumping your fist up and down his length with as much vigor as you could manage.

“Fuck,” he grunted, and although he now had the added task of awaiting his own impending orgasm alongside bringing you to yours, his fingers did not falter between your legs. Every throaty groan passing his lips seemed to drive his fingers into more of a frenzy, forming fast, sloppy shapes on your aching bud until you were crying out.

“That’s a good- fuck- girl. Keep jerking your big brother’s cock, just like that. Feels so fucking good,” he breathed against your skin, making you shiver even despite the heavy, humid warmth of the bathroom. You could no longer see anything through the glass door, which had become entirely overtaken with thick fog; for a moment you felt like this was the only place on earth that existed- a closed-off world of steam and water and porcelain made just for you and Michael.

With your eyes shut tight as the coil in your belly prepared to snap, all you could do was listen to the melodic blend of sounds enveloping the small space and attempt to move your body in time with the makeshift rhythm. Not one sound fell upon deaf ears- you were hyper-aware of every vulgar, human noise; every breath and every moan; every squeak of wet feet on the slick white floor.

This might be the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard, you thought.

“Fuck, Michael— more.” Stretching your other arm back to desperately grab at Michael’s damp mop of waves, you allowed yourself to come undone, arching your back so your erect nipples were pointed up towards the ceiling.

Michael brought his free hand away from your breasts, instead using it to brace himself against the shower door, creating a hand-shaped imprint in the steam that immediately began to drip with condensation.

Without thinking, you let go of Michael’s hair to join his hand on the glass; lacing your fingers through his, you worked at his cock with your opposite hand until his breaths grew ragged and choppy- a sure-fire sign that he was about to cum.

“Fuck, (y/n), keep going,” he moaned breathlessly, pressing his thumb harshly against your clit and nearly causing your knees to buckle underneath you. “Gonna- fuck.”

His cock twitched in your hand, and with that, he was cumming, shooting his thick load all over your ass and lower back. Miraculously, even as he recovered from his orgasm, he still continued to touch you; his fingers were like magic on your clit, and within a matter of seconds, you, too, were being sent over the edge.

“Oh god, Michael—“

Even during an earth-shattering orgasm like the one you were experiencing, you still were able to notice the way that Michael had switched spots on the glass with you, his large hand enclosing around yours and squeezing.

He didn’t remove his hand from between your thighs until you were twitching and overstimulated, and once he did, he pulled you into a hug, his strong arms cradling you against his chest.

Your eyes fluttered open and shut again, like a person caught between life and death, when he planted a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m never gonna find anyone else like you,” he said, hardly louder than a whisper. You weren’t sure whether it was a reassurance to you, or a solemn statement of distress.

Either way, you swore you could hear something like sadness behind his words.

iii.

Since Miriam and your father were too preoccupied with their arguing to arrange any family excursions, you and Michael were left to your own devices.

Those next few days in Florida, your life was about as close to a teen romance movie as it could get. You and Michael spent the days exploring the nearby towns, trying out restaurants (it’d taken a startlingly long while for you to convince Michael to try out one of the local cafés for breakfast instead of McDonald’s, which had been his original idea) and going shopping; on one occasion, you shared a joint with Michael before dragging him to the local aquarium, which he’d pretended to be entirely disinterested in (even though you could see the wonder and fear in his eyes whilst staring at the shark exhibit- what would happen if the glass broke? he’d asked, nervously drumming his fingers on the paneling as a particularly large shark swam by).

You shared ice cream with him on the boardwalk, licking the chocolate soft serve that had melted off the cone and onto Michael’s hand off his fingers; you rubbed sunscreen on each other at the beach (although Michael wasn’t nearly as thorough as you were, and most of the time you’d wind up with a nasty sunburn thanks to his negligence); you bought 99-cent popsicles from a vendor, making out with cherry-stained lips while the sun went down.

At night, you’d sit on the beach, sometimes stoned, talking and laughing as the waves rolled in and out on the shore.

It was 3 am on your last night in Florida, and you and Michael had snuck out of the hotel room and walked down to the beach, large checkered blanket and a bottle of red wine in tow (Michael had charmed the woman behind the counter in a sketchy liquor store in order to obtain this). You were sitting side-by-side, thoughts clouded from the effects of the alcohol with your knees drawn to your chest, when a sudden realization washed upon you like one of the rumbling waves breaking against the shore.

You were in love with Michael Langdon.

This was an unwavering, undeniable fact; you were in love with him. You loved him, even the parts of him that, at one point, you had hated. The realization was both peaceful and upsetting.

“Michael,” you said, huddling closer to yourself as a cool breeze cut through the night. What were you going to say to him? You couldn’t very well tell him about the epiphany you’d just had- he’d been on Tinder just a few days ago, for god’s sake. But, still, you felt compelled to say something.

“Hmm?” He stretched out his legs, running his palms up and down his sand-covered calves. In the darkness, you could hardly make out the features of his face, save for the sparkling reflection in his eyes as he looked out towards the ocean.

You licked your lips, taking a swig from the half-empty bottle of wine that had been positioned upright in the sand. You winced at the bittersweet taste washing over your tongue, the blood-colored liquid sloshing noisily against its glass confines as you brought it back down to your side.

“I don’t know,” you said, suddenly feeling stupid. “It’s just- I don’t want this all to be over.”

“Me either,” he said, putting his arm around you and drawing you closer to him. You inhaled sharply, breathing in the scent of wine and stale cigarettes and salt water like it was oxygen and you’d just been saved from drowning. “I didn’t think I would, but I had a really great time this week.”

You shook your head. “I’m not just talking about this week. I just mean in general. I feel like it’s all ending so soon.”

“Oh.” He took in a breath, an especially large wave hitting the shore with a startling crash. “God, this fucking sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Michael, I-“ I love you. The remaining words settled on the back of your tongue, refusing to roll off, but perhaps it was for the better. “-I think in another life, we could’ve worked out. Could’ve been something more than what we are. You know?”

If only, if only, if fucking only.

“Lucky us, being born in the universe where we’re fucking step siblings,” Michael laughed, but there was a deep sadness in his voice that you’d never heard before. “But, (y/n). Even though shit isn’t working out the way we wanted it to, and even though it’s gonna hurt when we both go away to college, I’m still so glad that I met you.”

“I’m glad I met you, too.”

There was only silence for a long moment as Michael reached for the wine bottle and took an indulgent sip. “There’s so much shit I wish could’ve been different,” he said finally, angling his head up towards the velvet blackness of the night sky. “I wish I’d treated you differently. I wish I hadn’t been so fucking scared of feeling something.”

You ran your fingers through the soft sand, forming meaningless patterns there as you listened to Michael open up for what felt like the first time since you’d met him.

“I used to lie awake at night and think of how fucking unfair this all is. That the one girl I’ve ever really wanted is the one girl I can’t have. I used to think if maybe I pushed you away, treated you like shit, that everything would hurt less. But it just hurt me more, seeing you in pain from the shit I put you through. And now I realize that it’s all gonna hurt the same either way. ‘Cause I’ll never have you the way I want.”

You felt a well-known pinching behind your eyes, and you blinked, silently willing away the tears that were threatening to escape. You kept your eyes on the drawings you’d made in the ground, knowing that if you were to look into Michael’s eyes, you’d probably break.

“What’s gonna happen to us, Michael? We can’t just wait for each other while we’re away at college and miss out on life. But god, I wanna be with you,” you said, voice quivering.

“I don’t know,” he said softly, shaking his head. “I say we just…live our lives. And if it’s meant to be, it will be. One day.”

You nodded, dragging your fingers through the sand and destroying the mindless spirals and swirls you’d formed. “One day.”

“But enough with all that sad shit,” said Michael, taking your chin in hand and moving it so you were looking at him. “What’s important is that we have each other right now. So let’s make the most of that, hm?”

The look in Michael’s eyes told you right away what he meant by making the most of your time together; your cheeks were hot, prickling from the red wine, fingertips burning to touch something. So you did- you grabbed the front of Michael’s shirt, yanking him towards you and placing a haphazard, open-mouthed kiss on his lips.

The kiss was aggressive and feverish; it didn’t take long for Michael to lay you down on the checkered blanket, his hands wandering your body like it belonged to him (and, in a way, it did).

When Michael broke away to catch his breath, panting, you decided to try something new: with all the strength you could muster, you pushed Michael off of you and promptly rolled on top of him instead, straddling him with your knees on either side of his torso.

In the faint glow of the silvery moonlight, you could see an indistinct smirk playing at his lips; it wasn’t often that you were the one to take control, but it was obvious, from the growing protrusion in the front of his pants, that he liked the change.

You leaned down to reattach your lips to his, hips rocking back and forth over his bulge until the friction sent shock waves up your spine. With you bent forward, Michael was easily able to slide his veined hands up the back of your short skirt, taking two greedy fistfuls of your ass.

Almost frantically, you tore your shirt off over your head, not bothering to worry about where it landed. Now, the only thing separating your breasts from the nighttime air was a thin lace bralette, which Michael took to palming you through.

“Fuck, (y/n),” murmured Michael, rolling one of your hardened nipples between two fingers. “You have seriously got the best tits.”

“Yeah? You think so?” you said, a twinge of playful mocking to your voice; you wrapped your fingers around Michael’s wrists, maneuvering them so that both his hands were fondling your breasts.

“Fuck yeah, I think so,” he said, and you only wished there was just a bit more light so you could properly admire him in his disheveled, lustful state.

“Even better than those girls on Tinder you matched with?” you taunted, grinding your hips down hard against Michael’s erection. “I wonder what they’d think about all the times you’ve been balls deep in your stepsister.”

At this, he tightened his grip on your tits, twisting them almost painfully before hoisting up the thin fabric of your bralette so your nipples were exposed. You helped him in removing the garment, pulling it off and throwing it alongside your shirt, never once ceasing the motion of your hips against his clothed, twitching cock.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” Michael said, running his thumbs over your nipples. “Otherwise I’d take you over my lap and spank your ass raw for being such a little bitch.”

“And you’re lucky you have a big dick,” you shot back, words catching in your throat when he tugged hard on one of your nipples. “Otherwise I never would’ve given your fuckboy ass the time of day.”

This was a lie, of course, but your lighthearted tone of voice was enough to let him know that you were only messing around.

Michael scoffed. “No, I think you’re the one who’s lucky that I have a big dick, considering that you’re a total fucking cock-hungry slut.”

You stifled a laugh. Well, he’s not wrong.

“Is that a complaint?” you said, lips quirking as you scooted your body slightly downward, giving yourself room to pull Michael’s now-fully hard cock out. Sinking your teeth into your lower lip, you took the pulsing length in hand, moving your thin panties to the side and repositioning yourself so that the head of Michael’s cock was nestled just barely against your entrance.

Michael shook his head rapidly, a throaty grunt passing his lips. “Obviously- fuck- not.”

It was almost amusing to you, the way you and Michael had gone from having a heartfelt conversation to teasing each other relentlessly, but you supposed that was what you loved about your dynamic anyway. Unable to hold off any longer, you guided Michael’s cock inside you, gliding down easily on his length until he was fully seated inside. Your mouth fell open, and as you began to properly ride him, he brought his hands to grip your hips with a tight, bruising hold.

“Fuck, Michael,” you sighed, tits bouncing as you rolled your hips forward, increasing your momentum. Michael slid one hand from your hip to your inner thigh, pinching the tender skin before bringing his thumb to your clit and rubbing firm circles over it.

A pleasant, salt water-scented breeze passed by as you rode Michael, further disheveling your hair, which you ran your fingers through; the lewd noises of your body connecting with Michael’s were overtaken by the unmistakable sounds of the tide.

“Good girl, riding my cock so fucking good,” Michael breathed, lifting up his free hand so he could push two fingers into your mouth. Your eyelids fluttered at the salt of his skin, lips instinctively wrapping around his calloused digits and sucking.

Swirling your tongue over Michael’s fingers, you continued riding him, swaying your hips in figure-eight motions; the thick girth of his cock stretched your tight walls, and from this angle, you could practically feel him in your stomach.

The pad of Michael’s thumb pressed against your clit again, and as electric pleasure rippled up your spine, it took everything inside you not to cum right then and there. Your pussy was clenching tight around him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let go—you didn’t want to be apart from him. Not yet.  

For a second, you could see every contoured feature of Michael’s face illuminated in the pale light of the moon, the exaggerated shadows and highlights coming together to form an image that was almost otherworldly. His eyes were droopy-lidded, so much so that you might’ve thought his eyes were shut if it weren’t for the glint of his pupils; he’d sucked his full lower lip into his mouth, nibbling on the rosy pink flesh as he admired your curved, supple figure on top of him.

I love him, you thought, matter-of-fact, as he pulled his spit-soaked fingers from your mouth and dragged them down between your tits, leaving a shiny trail of saliva in their wake.

I love him, you thought, bowing your body forward to kiss him hungrily, moaning into his mouth as you hurried your pace on his cock.

I love him.

Why the fuck did you have to love him? It wasn’t fair. Your insides churned with jealousy at the thought of all the other teenage girls who were currently experiencing their first love; you thought of the constant Instagram posts of girls in new, happy relationships, the public displays of affection against lockers between classes. Those things, so seemingly insignificant, would never become a part of your reality (or at least not any reality involving Michael).

In another life you’d have Michael over for dinner to meet your father, holding his hand under the table when you’d notice his thigh jiggling anxiously. You’d kiss him freely without the underlying fear, swirling deep in the pit of your belly, that someone might catch you. You’d be his prom date, match your gown to his bow tie and take awkward pictures with him, his strong arms holding you from behind.

In another life, things would be normal. In another life, you and Michael would be happy together.

“(Y/n),” groaned Michael; the sound of his raspy voice calling your name was enough to send you over the edge, bracing your tense body with one hand next to his head as you rode out your orgasm.

You were able to move even faster now, both of his hands holding your ass as you leaned far enough forward that you could bury your head in his neck. The feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you was almost too much now that you’d orgasmed, but you didn’t stop, eager to witness Michael drift into his own realm of bliss.

“Fuck—“ was all that could leave Michael’s lips before he came, using your ass to hold you in place as he spilled his warm load inside of you. You  didn’t move, keeping your face by his neck so you could listen to him catch his breath.

When you finally picked yourself up, Michael looked down to his shoulder and furrowed his eyebrows. “Were you just crying?”

Fuck. Yes, yes you were. Tears had apparently leaked from the corners of your eyes without you realizing, wetting his neck and the cotton fabric of his t-shirt. You said nothing, pulling off him to retrieve the clothing articles that you’d discarded in the sand earlier.

“Just a little,” you said, embarrassed, shaking the sand off your bralette and putting it on. “Red wine makes me angsty.”

“Oh.” There was a pregnant pause as Michael cleared his throat. “C’mon, (y/n), it’s not so bad.”

There was wavering uncertainty veiled beneath the confidence of his words, and you could tell he was trying to convince himself of this sentiment just as much as he was trying to convince you. Your back was to him as you slipped your shirt over your head, willing yourself not to start crying again.

“(Y/n)?”

His hand was on your back, the tips of his fingers circling lightly over the fabric of your shirt. You turned to face him, slowly. “Yes?”

“I…” He halted for a moment, contemplating something. “I really, really like you. More than I’ve ever liked anyone before.”

“I really, really like you too.” Somewhere, a chorus of crickets were unknowingly performing a custom symphony for your own teen romance movie moment. Michael took your hand in his, lacing his long fingers through yours, and you swallowed.

He looked down at your joined hands, an almost solemn look on his face. “Just. I don’t want you to forget, all right? No matter what happens.”

No matter what happens. You didn’t want to think of what he could mean by that.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered, as if to shield your words from the ocean’s prying ears. “I won’t forget.”

And that, you knew, was an irrefutable fact.

iv.

Late August hit you like a truck, coming by so unexpectedly that you thought surely you’d been caught in some kind of time slip. Your college move-in date was a week before Michael’s, and so Michael had spent the days leading up to your departure helping you pack (he’d also, of course, made plenty of time for “breaks” throughout the process, one of which consisted of you being fucked on the floor amidst the vast array of brown moving boxes).

Your bedroom was now a shell of what it’d once been- the comfortable teenage clutter you’d been so accustomed to was now gone, and you’d finally gotten around to throwing out the pictures and stickers you’d had on your wall since freshman year. It was depressing, hollow.

On the morning of your move-in date, your father helped you bring your belongings to the car and load the trunk. The car ride was going to be fairly long, and you were dreading it, especially since Michael wasn’t coming along. He had his own matters to attend to, what with his own move-in date creeping near, and the car would be far too crowded with all your things there anyway.

You were scheduled to leave at 9, and downstairs you could hear your father and Miriam shuffling around as they prepared for the trip. You sat at the edge of your bed, surrounded by the pale purple sheets you’d had for as long as you could remember, idly scraping the toe of your sneaker back and forth along the wooden floor.

You weren’t ready to say goodbye to all of this, but when had you ever been ready for anything life had thrown your way? You hadn’t been ready to fall in love with your stepbrother, and yet that had happened all the same.

From across the hall, Michael’s bedroom door cracked open, and out he came in his flannel sleep pants and plain white t-shirt (which now perfectly complemented the slight summertime hue of bronze to his skin), blond hair in beautiful disarray. Your heart ached- you were going to miss seeing him in the morning, all sleepy and soft, voice pitched lower than usual from sleep.

You recalled all the times you’d passed him as he stood at the counter in the bathroom, brushing his teeth; he’d look at you with a lazy half-smile, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, his elbows resting on the edge of the sink. He always looked so handsome even when he wasn’t trying, a quality you almost envied him for.

He noticed you watching him from the corner of your bed as he approached the doorway, waving at you as he balanced his shoulder against the frame.

“‘Morning,” he said, his bleary-eyed gaze meeting yours. He looked tired, dark rings prevalent beneath his crystal blue eyes, and you briefly wondered if he’d gotten much sleep the night before. “You should be grateful that I got up at the ass crack of dawn to say goodbye to you.”

“The ass crack of dawn? Michael, it’s 8:45,” you said, and if you really tried, you could almost pretend that this was a regular conversation between the two of you, and not the very last time you’d be interacting face-to-face until November.

“Yeah, well, 8:45 is the ass crack of dawn to me,” he said, and you stood up, meeting him halfway in the middle of your barren room. He flashed you a grin, but there wasn’t much happiness behind it, and you could see that he was… uncomfortable? Sad? Angry?— you couldn’t quite tell— from the way he’d folded his arms in front of his stomach. “So yeah. I, uh, wanted to say goodbye. And also remind you not to fuck too many frat guys. You could, like, catch something.”

“I’ll try not to, but I can’t promise anything,” you joked, following the sentence with a forced-sounding chuckle. “Bye, Michael.”

You stepped forward, winding your arms around Michael’s waist and placing your head against his chest; you could just barely hear his heart beating, the warmth of his skin touching your cheek even through the fabric of his t-shirt.

“I’m gonna miss you,” he murmured, his chin resting on the top of your head, strong arms holding you to him in an unyielding embrace. “So much.”

There were too many things you wanted to say, racing through your mind so quickly that it’d be impossible to articulate them aloud. Instead, you let out a shaky sigh, eyes falling shut as you tried your hardest to immerse yourself completely in Michael’s touch. Sometimes, there didn’t need to be any words for you to understand each other.

“Don’t be sad about this, (y/n). When you’re at college, you’re gonna meet so many guys who are so much better than I am. And you’re gonna wonder why you ever were hung up on a dumbass like me.” His tone was lighthearted, but you knew better than to really believe that he was unbothered. “But I don’t think I’ll ever find someone better than you. I’m so fucking lucky that you gave me as many chances as you did. I didn’t deserve them.”

“You’re wrong,” you said, pulling away so you could look pointedly into Michael’s eyes. God, his eyes were beautiful, and you drank in the moment, knowing this was your last chance to really look into them face-to-face. “I gave you those chances because even though you acted like a total fucking asshole, I still knew there was good in you. I could just… feel it.”

He cocked an eyebrow skepticall y. “No, you gave me all those second chances because I give good head and have a big dick.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, maybe those were contributing factors, but they weren’t the only reasons I stuck around.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he said, licking his lips and settling his hands on your hips. “For the record, your pussy really is my favorite. Like, I wasn’t just saying that.”

“I’m honored.”

The interaction was cut short by the sound of your father calling you from downstairs, indicating that it was time to leave, and your heart sank deep into your stomach. Standing up on the tips of your toes, you planted a chaste kiss on his lips before hurrying out into the hall, waving over your shoulder as you went.

“Bye, (y/n),” Michael said, not moving from where he stood in your bedroom. He’d dug his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, shoulders slumped forward as he watched you go. For a moment, you wished you’d hugged him for longer. “See you in November.”

“See you,” you called back, imitating nonchalance to the best of your ability, only averting your gaze when you felt tears wobbling along your waterline, threatening to overflow and spill down your cheeks.

In that last moment before you turned, you could almost swear that he had tears in his eyes, too.

v.

When you finally made your way up those familiar porch steps again, the November air chilling you slightly even despite the thick sweater you wore, you felt like an entirely different person.

Those first few months of college had been a blur; your life was far more interesting than it’d ever been while you were in high school (if you didn’t count the whole ‘fucking your stepbrother’ thing), with a surplus of boys at your disposal at all times. You’d gotten perhaps a bit carried away with the dating and partying and hookups, but you figured you were simply making up for all the experiences you’d missed out on in high school.

Michael was a thought that you trained yourself to keep tucked away. During those first few weeks, you’d spent several nights crying yourself to sleep, the stiff dorm room bed so uninviting compared to the way Michael’s arms had always felt around you. At parties, you’d scan the crowds for boys with blond hair and blue eyes, hoping that one of them could temporarily stand in for Michael during your time away from him. None of them fulfilled the requirements, of course- you’d come to realize early on that nobody was quite as good as Michael Langdon. It took a while for you to stop searching for Michael in every boy you became acquainted with, but with practice, you became rather skilled in the art of forgetting.

You and Michael kept in contact, albeit only sometimes. His messages to you were comprised mainly of memes he’d found on Instagram that he thought you’d appreciate, along with the occasional drunk text late at night (‘Cna you send me a pci of your tits/??? Lmfao’ was one of your favorite messages from him that you’d received thus far). It made you feel special to know that he was thinking of you, even despite being surrounded by girls like you assumed he probably was.

You tried not to think of him too much, though- you knew you’d drive yourself crazy if you did.

When Thanksgiving time rolled around, you were confronted with the fact that you’d be seeing Michael again for the first time in months, a prospect that ignited your nerves far more than you were willing to admit. As excited as you were to see him, you also couldn’t help but worry: what if he announced that he’d found a girlfriend? What if he wasn’t attracted to you anymore? What if you weren’t attracted to him anymore?

It probably would be easier for the both of you if things played out that way, but you didn’t want things to be easy. It was unrealistic, but part of you was praying that things would be exactly as they were before you’d gone away.

Your hand trembled a bit as you raised it to the doorbell, and you braced yourself before jamming your finger into the button. From inside the house, you heard the muffled, off-key tone as it resounded throughout the upstairs area, followed by bounding footsteps down the stairs that you pinpointed as belonging to your father.

The front swung open and there was your father, a wide smile stretched across his face as he ushered you inside, taking it upon himself to bring in your travel bag for you. “(Y/n)! Finally! How was the train ride?”

“Not bad,” you said as he pulled you into a hug. As soon as you were apart, you started up the stairs, your pulse quickening as you came closer and closer to the moment you’d been anticipating for months. “Did Michael get back already?”

“Yeah, about an hour ago.”

Your heart skipped at this revelation; your legs couldn’t bring you to the top of the stairs fast enough, and, sensing your heightened enthusiasm, your father chuckled from behind you. “Hey, hold on a second. I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” you said breathlessly, the rubber soles of your sneakers making noisy contact with the wooden upstairs floor. You supposed that maybe you should’ve spent more time greeting your father, but you could no longer contain yourself- you needed to see Michael.

Leaving your bag at the top of the stairs, you hurried to the hallway where your bedrooms were located, unable to stifle your eagerness. You felt like a starved animal, finally being presented with food by a pair of benevolent hands, and you were ready to devour.

You didn’t bother knocking on Michael’s door when you approached it, bursting in with such force that you stumbled over your feet. The room was dim, what with the blinds being open so only a few rays of late-afternoon sunlight could peek through; seated in front of his once-cluttered empty desk, now occupied only by a laptop, was Michael, massive headphones positioned over his ears as he fixated on whatever stupid game he was currently playing (does he still play fortnite? you wondered).

The sound of your intrusion was loud enough to catch his attention, and as his head turned from his computer screen to your face, something shifted in his eyes. Immediately, he tore off his headphones, jumping to his feet so abruptly that they clattered to the ground. “Holy fuck, (y/n).”

It was evident, from the way you fell easily into his arms, that the attraction hadn’t faded. If anything, the distance apart seemed to have only made the magnetic connection between you grow even stronger.

Your lips clashed together feverishly (you had no idea who had been the one to initiate this— it seemed that you’d both moved in perfect unison into one another), hands wandering freely over each other’s bodies and teeth bumping against teeth. When you broke away, a string of saliva stretching and breaking between your faces, Michael beamed down at you.

The slight layer of baby fat that had once rounded out Michael’s cheeks appeared to have dissipated, his cheekbones even more pronounced than you remembered them being. His sharp jaw was shadowed with the smallest touch of brown stubble, (which you assumed was there because he’d been too lazy to shave), but you thought the more mature look suited him well.

“Jesus, (y/n), I missed you.” His voice was like smooth velvet; you’d inject it into your bloodstream if you could. “You’re even more fucking beautiful than I remembered.”

“Oh, good. I was worried you’d be grossed out by my freshman fifteen,”  you laughed.

“Fuck no. The fatter the ass, the better,” he said with a devious smirk, running his long fingers through his overgrown mop of blond hair. He smelled just like you remembered, a mixture of cinnamon gum and cigarettes and cologne (and the faintest hint of marijuana, of course), and you wished you could bottle up his scent and take it with you.

“So you’re still a fuckboy, I see,” you teased, twisting the front of Michael’s t-shirt in your hands and pulling him towards you. “Some things just never change, I guess.”

“Guess not.” He was speaking lowly now, assuming the smooth tone he always used when he was attempting to seduce you, and as if on cue came a dull, throbbing ache between your legs. “I wonder if your pussy is as good as I remember?”

His fingers found their way to the bottom of your sweater, fumbling with the chunky fabric and swiftly maneuvering it off over your head. You mirrored his actions, pulling off his shirt and exposing his torso, pressing your lips back against his with urgency once his upper half had been disrobed.

“Fuck…” you breathed against his parted mouth, palming the growing erection in the front of his pale gray sweatpants (your favorite pair of pants that he owned). “Need you to fuck me, Mikey…”

“Is that right?” He tilted his head to one side, kissing you deeply as he bent his knees, using his own weight as leverage to lift you up. You intertwined your ankles behind Michael’s back, securing your place in his toned arms as he carried you over to his bed; the vulgar, wet sound of your tongues melding together filled the room as he laid you down on his checkered comforter, your legs still wrapped snugly around him. “Did my baby sis miss having her pussy split on her big bro’s cock?”

“Mhm,” you purred; there truly was no man in existence better at dirty talking than Michael. You tensed in excitement when he began fumbling with the top button of your jeans, proceeding to deftly work the form-fitting denim material down your thighs once he’d freed it from its hold. “Can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Impatiently, you reached between your bodies, your fingers coming upon the thick outline of his bulge as he peppered your throat with sloppy kisses. You moved your hand up to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging the elastic as far back as you could; this resulted in him chuckling against your flesh, your body erupting in goosebumps at the sensation.

“So needy,” he mumbled, the vibrations of his plump lips traveling straight down to your cunt. “Did you touch yourself when you were away at school, thinking of me? Thinking of how good I touch you, how hard I make you cum?”

“M-Michael,” you whimpered, rolling your hips in melodic time with his, his clothed cock making friction against your thinly veiled pussy. “C’mon, just fuck me already. Please.”

“I like it when you beg,” he said, smug, standing so he could pull down his sweatpants and boxers, putting his long, weighted cock on display for you. You lifted your knees up for him, and in one swift motion he stripped you of your flimsy black thong. “Beg me again.”

You squirmed, sliding your flat palm down your stomach so you could touch yourself between your parted thighs; slowly, you coated your fingers with your own sticky essence, looking up at Michael from under a canopy of thick lashes. “Fuck me, Michael. I need you.”

“Ask nicely,” he chided, hoisting your thigh up to drape around his waist, eyes darkening as he observed your fingers spreading your slick wetness around your folds.

“Pleeaaaaseeee, Mikey,” you pleaded, syllables so drawn out that it almost sounded like you were singing. “It’s been so long.”

“Fuck.” He brought his lower lip into his mouth, sucking for a moment as he lined the flushed head of his cock up with your dripping entrance. When he released it, it was several shades darker than it’d been before, completely swollen and glossy with spit. “I’ve been thinking about this since the last time I saw you.”

Taking a firm grip of your thighs, he slid effortlessly into your tight heat, your jaw unhinging at the intrusion; you’d definitely be feeling him for the next few days, his thick shaft stretching out your narrow walls to the point where it was almost painful. You liked it, though, liked the delicious burn that only he could create, reminding you of who you belonged to.

“Shit,” he hissed, pausing momentarily to compose himself before assuming a deep, hard rhythm to fuck you with. “You’re so fucking tight. Must not’ve fucked anyone as big as me while you were away.”

All you could manage was a broken moan, your head lolling back towards the ceiling. He bottomed out inside you, bringing himself down to press his chest against yours, indulging in the feel of your warm, wet cunt as it spasmed around his massive length. When you started whining for more, he retracted his hips back until only the head of his cock was inside you, slamming back inside so hard that you were sent halfway up the bed.

“Oh god, Michael…” Your fingernails scraped aimlessly along the warm skin of his back, eyelids flickering open and shut in a fucked-out daze. You’d slept with a handful of guys at college, but none of them even came close to fucking you the way Michael did. He was just… special.

Fuck, I love him.

The thought startled you; you’d almost been able to forget about the little epiphany you’d had, that night in Florida when you and Michael sat side-by-side by the ocean. But now that you were with him— under him, taking every last agonizing inch of his cock, it became obvious that those feelings had remained stagnant.

After all the boys you’d been through at college, you still loved him.

God, were you fucked.

“Missed my baby girl so much,” Michael murmured, tucking your hair behind your ear and peering down at you. His forehead was glowing, the sides of his face framed with cute, damp curls of blond hair; he was so beautiful, you thought. How had you survived so long without him?

He impaled you again with a sharp upwards thrust, a string of expletives passing your lips and mixing with the lewd sounds of sex swimming through the air.  “I missed you— fuck!— too.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” he said, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and running his tongue along the salty skin. “Your pussy is fucking dripping for me.”

“Keep going,” you panted, wetting your chapped lips; with each brutal thrust of Michael’s cock, you bucked your hips forward to meet him halfway, desperate for all that he had to offer. “Feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah? You like that? Like how I split you open?” His hips pounded against yours with a bruising intensity, his chest pinning you down as you writhed beneath his lean frame. His voice was becoming hoarse, breaths short and choppy, letting you know that he was close.

“Yes, yes, yes, please, more…” Your affirmations were like a prayer, encouraging Michael to fuck you even deeper, his torso making electric contact with your clit as he moved his body in time with yours. “Make me cum, Mikey, please..”

The wind was knocked from your lungs each time he pumped his length into you, and by the time the coil in your stomach was unwinding, you were struggling to catch your breath. You ran your hands through Michael’s sweat-soaked hair, letting the strands stretch around your fingers as you tugged at the root; Your toes curled when Michael administered a particularly hard thrust inside you, your lips falling open in a silent scream; there was a burst of brilliant colors behind your eyelids as you finally reached your climax, your thighs shaking as they clasped firmly around Michael’s waist.

Like a perfect teen-movie cliché, Michael came just as you did; the feeling of his hot load as it spilled deep inside your cunt was a welcomed one, and your spongey inner walls instinctively clamped down, milking his cock for all it was worth.

With a throaty grunt, Michael pulled out of you, his cum dribbling crudely down your inner thigh and onto his bedspread, which he didn’t appear to pay any attention to. Lying down beside you, he sighed, bare chest shining with slick perspiration.

“I missed doing that,” Michael rasped, eyes focused up towards the ceiling rather than on you.

“So did I,” you said, tracing idle patterns along the expanse of Michael’s torso, watching his stomach rise and fall with each breath he took. “I can’t wait to have you all Christmas break.”

Michael’s lips turned downwards at the corners, his eyebrows knitting together in a pained display. “Oh. Yeah.”

It seemed as though he’d wanted to say more, but he pressed his lips shut into a thin line, Adam’s apple bobbing. What the hell? All at once you felt nauseous- there was something about the way he’d said those two words that made you very, very uneasy.

You sat up, your mind already starting to overflow with horrid possibilities. “What, Michael?”

“I, um. I have to tell you something.” Michael’s eyes darted throughout the room before settling on his palms. You frowned, mouth going dry at his apparent reluctance to talk to you, thoughts racing in all directions to try and pinpoint what exactly he might say.

“Michael…”

“So. Um.” He was stalling, extending his arms up so his palms were flat on his forehead, still refusing to look at you as he contemplated his words. “So you remember over the summer when I spilled Red Bull on my laptop?”

You raised an eyebrow. Where exactly was he going with this? “Yeah?”

“And remember how I would borrow my mom’s laptop to play video games while I was waiting for it to get repaired?”

“Yes, I remember. Can you just get to the point?” You were growing impatient, the anxiety increasing with each additional second that Michael continued to leave you in the dark.

“Okay, well…” He inhaled sharply. “I was borrowing her laptop one night and ended up looking at the search history because, well… you can probably guess why. Anyway. I ended up seeing all these searches for, like, new apartments and divorce lawyers.”

Oh shit. Divorce lawyers? Was he about to say what you were thinking he was about to say? “You mean…?”

Michael held up a hand as if to say let me finish, and you held your tongue. “So like, I asked her about it. And she told me that her and your dad are, like, splitting up or whatever. But she told me not to mention anything about it in case they ended up working shit out.”

You didn’t understand— wasn’t this good news? If your parents divorced, wouldn’t you finally be able to be with Michael the way you wanted? You forced down the giddiness that started to bubble up from your stomach and into your throat, knowing that there had to be a catch if Michael was acting so serious.

“So our parents are getting a divorce?”

“Well… there’s more.” He licked his lips, finally gathering the courage to look at you, the expression on his face so grim that it scared you a little. “She found an apartment in California. And she’s moving us there next month.”

California!?

No, this couldn’t be happening. How could this be happening? This was perhaps even worse than the predicament you were already in. If Michael moved to California, it was pretty fucking likely that you’d never see him again.

“I… what? And you’ve known all this for how long!?” Your voice was pitched several octaves higher now, eyes watering uncontrollably, and you felt as though you were on the brink of having a total fucking meltdown.

“I always thought there was a chance they’d get things worked out, or that my mom would change her mind about moving so far away. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I already knew you were sad about us going away to college, so I just thought-”

“-Answer the question, Michael! How long have you known this for?” Hot, angry tears were falling down your face and onto your bare chest, your entire body shaking with an overwhelming mixture of rage and despair.

He sighed. “Since August.”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. How could he have hidden this from you for so long? “And you never thought to tell me? So I could at least come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never see you again once you move?”

“I didn’t wanna ruin the rest of our time together,” he said softly, eyes glossy with tears that were still yet to fall. “I fucked up, okay? I should’ve told you as soon as I found out. But I kept thinking that maybe something would change, and…I don’t know. I’m sorry, (y/n).”

“Fuck,” you mumbled. Your limbs felt numb and heavy, your heart hollow. “Why did your mom have to choose fucking California, of all places?”

“I dunno. I think it has to do with this weird religion thing she’s into,” he said. “Look, (y/n), if I had any choice, I’d stay here. But you know I can’t afford my own place right now.”

“I know. It’s just-“ you collapsed backwards, your back making contact with the bed below with a soft thud. “This is so fucking unfair. We’re finally able to be together- like, really be together. But of course there has to be a catch.”

“Remember what I said, (y/n)? How if things are meant to be, they will be?” It sounded to you like Michael was attempting to make sense of a senseless situation, but you let him speak, somewhat comforted by his words. “I only have to stay in California until I can afford my own place. And I’ll still be going to the same college, so we won’t be too far from each other during the school year.”

Your college was a five hour drive away from Michael’s. Would he really be willing to make such a long trip up to see you? Would you be willing to take a trip to see him, with the new knowledge looming on your conscience that he would no longer be an arm’s length away once the school year was up? You wanted to be optimistic, but how could you be? A fresh wave of tears escaped your eyes, blurring your vision, but your cries faded to soft whimpers when Michael pulled you up against his chest.

You tried not to remind yourself of the fact that this would likely be one of the last times you’d be able to feel him there against you, one of the last times you’d absorb the heat from his skin, his distinct scent overtaking you like a natural aphrodisiac, intoxicating you.

You tried to reason with reality: if the universe had tried so hard to keep you apart all this time, maybe you and Michael being together had simply not been written in the stars (or at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself— how could a connection so strong not be meant to be?, you asked yourself dejectedly). The way you felt for Michael was special, unlike anything else you’d ever experienced before. He was a natural high, a gust of fresh springtime air, a golden ray of good in a gray-black world of bad.

But, as the saying went, all good things must come to an end. Don’t they?

Perhaps you’d always known, in the very back of your mind, that things would never work out. Perhaps you’d always known that your heart would wind up broken (no, not broken— incinerated). The cards had never been in your favor, and there had been a hundred million warning signs that you’d blatantly ignored time and time again.

But it hurt.

And you doubted it would ever stop hurting. The pain of losing Michael might one day fade from a stabbing agony to a dull ache, but that initial wound would likely never heal completely.

The only thing left to do now was stay entangled in Michael’s warmth for as long as possible, and make weary peace with the tragic ending your time with Michael had come to.

“If we survived being stepsiblings, we can survive this,” Michael said, his lips against your knotted hair, firm arms holding your naked body with a delicate tenderness that you weren’t used to. “You know that when I want something, I make sure that I get it. And what I want, (y/n), is you.”

You nodded, curling into Michael, your bodies fitting together like two perfectly-cut puzzle pieces.

“And I’m gonna have you.” You felt his hand smooth your hair out, and then he placed a kiss on your forehead, as if to imprint his words into your brain. “One day.”

Your eyes fluttered open, and all at once you were lost in a rushing sea of crystal blue, like the one that had lapped against the shore that night you’d fallen in love. As you reached up to caress Michael’s porcelain cheek, thumb grazing the rough stubble that had gathered along his jaw, you couldn’t help but believe him.

One day.

[japanstopbrawler1992]

READ ME

ZERO TOLERANCE FOR RACIST CHASERS/GAY-FOR-STRAIGHT-CONSUMPTION/OOC TRANSPHOBIA/ANY RACISM WHATSOEVER UNLESS SHOWN AS BAD BY NARRATIVE AND CONFINED TO AGREED UPON PLOTTING

I set Savers in its airing year, so Masaru was born in '92. Can take place anytime after episode 49. However, there just won't be any explicit sexual content regardless of when the thread takes place. I also don't auto-ship: I'm here to walk a character through things, so ships will all be more slow-burn. Also, while Masaru's just pan, I'm actually asexual, so don't even expect me to present beyond a textbook understanding of sexual attraction

Masaru's kind of a jerk. My other two muses are generally at least kind unless the other person isn't, but Masaru's kind of abrasive and gleefully violent. If we're playing, I'll probably warn you beforehand, but Masaru may snap at your muse if your muse isn't a little kid. If your muse didn't deserve it, he'll probably apologise at some point, but yeah, this muse is even less like me than 02's Ken (Bleach's Ichigo is my muse most like me)

I'm on mobile. Period. I can't cut threads. I usually just tag "long post." Can't cut threads.

Seen JP ver only. Haven't seen any others, and I have no reason to bother--the original's in my native. Why would I bother with "orange juice bomb"?

Masaru is mixed race here. In a planned project that's a sister project to my Bleach project I already got a bit of stuff up for, Masaru's mum is Japanese and Russian, and related to Junpei of Frontier, and Masaru's dad was Japanese and Afghani. Masaru actually does speak Japanese, Russian, and Persian.

Masaru's also trans here. He never got puberty blockers, but he finally got testosterone at 13. So his voice changed at a pretty normal age. But he does need a binder and all that. (He loved that black tank top he wears after the memory wipe because it was just the right cut to cover the binder while showing off his arm muscles!) He does someday want kids, and Japanese law, like most US states or most places, requires sterilisation to recognise gender change. His papers also say a different first name. Of course, this probably came up with Satuma. Satuma and payroll at DATS probably know all about it. But being trans isn't *as* hard in Japan as the Anglophonic world. Especially thanks to Kamikawa Aya advocating on outlets like NHK radio since '95, which Masaru would be three then.

I toss the epilogue. Don't like the losing their digimon, and Masaru ditching his family he feels so responsible for and his dad he just got back?

Actually, in my project, ep 48 never happens. Suguru is dead, DATS remains, and Sayuri gets BanchouLeomon as her digimon partner.

Oh, another rule--poor spelling and grammar is acceptable if you are not a native speaker. It infuriates me to no end that I'm supposed to be an idiot for being fluent in three just because English is not my first, but native speakers get to run around spelling "bins" "ben's" and congratulating themselves for "kohnichuwa" but I get beaten/decried for actually knowing the language... And also, ,ZERO TOLERANCE for "garnish my human default English with exotic Japanese uwu" See "zero tolerance for chasers and racism"

Totally available to play in Japanese or Spanish, but you must be fluent.

Masaru lives in Tobechou, Yokohama. I went to the Chinatown in Yokohama once with my dad, but I lived in Koube. And we didn't leave Hanshin region all that much. My knowledge of much outside there being a Chinatown in the '80s (obviously still there, as it was the setting for the Savers movie) and big landmarks like Minatomirai is minimal. I also haven't been back to Japan period since '94. My relatives there are all deceased since the '90s, and flights alone are 1,000$, which, until recently, was definitely over a month of rent. Two for a studio, one plus a couple hundred for a 1 or 2LDK, depending. Might even have had 1.5 baths. By the time Savers was airing in Japan, I was able to keep up with Japanese news via now-gone Japanese-language broadcasts in California, as well as the Web, which is also how I saw Savers. But my knowledge of Japanese things may run the risk of being almost 30 years out of date. Or it might be completely current because I still read Asahi News, the most left-leaning paper I can find. Unsure if related to Hanshin region channel 6, but channel 6 was the best when I was there.

The Daimon family didn't move when Masaru came out, but he came out pretty young. It's just difficult to get trans care for minors. That being said, most peers don't know he's trans. They do know he's mixed, though. That being said, it's not like it's *only* him fighting racist bullies. It's only partially that. Like I said, I fully acknowledge he's pretty abrasive. So he's not completely blameless for all the fights. He could easily someday be the kind of parent who gets arrested for punching a rival dad. Violence is not a last resort for him. It's the best resort.

I do multi-para and don't use icons. But I'm not asking for an exact word count match. All I ask is give me stuff to go off of in replies and for Heaven's sake, do *not* format like House of Leaves when you play with me. Format button abuse looks like a visual panic attack, and is just too chaotic for me to read.

I may go spotty on replies with you. I'll still chat with you via the messenger thingy, and I don't play with people I've never spoken to, even if I've started the interaction, because I need to filter for my sanity, so I need to know the people I play with aren't gonna pull racism or something on me, but when my replies slow, it's because I work on-call at a shelter for seriously physically ill people, I'm also disabled myself, and I don't have the ability to put enough energy for the high-quality replies I strive to give in at the moment. I'm stalling because I want to give you my best. If I want to drop a thread, which is admittedly rare, I'll let you know. I won't leave you guessing.

Some h/cs just for fun

Masaru loves metal. The metal I know is 70s prog and 80s glam metal and stuff. I don't really like much music past about '94, and exactly two albums after 2000 (neither are metal)

Masaru has always had the same kind of attention span I have now even though I completely didn't when I was younger. He's running commentary if you watch an movie with him, his biggest problem with school is the whole sitting and passively listening to a lecture part, he thinks he doesn't like reading because others always talk about sitting there and reading for hours on end (if he's older, he may have realised it's OK to read for 20-minute bursts, something I eventually realised, too). He only really learns by doing. That being said, depending on age, he may not have had the chance to *realise* that yet.

He wouldn't become a sumo wrestler, but he totally watches it. Honestly, any fighting sport, and he's there.

He's very Japanese as far as religion. Sort of takes part and believes in a lot of them at the same time, but none are a overly influential part of his life. This is a thing.

Crossovers with any season preceding Savers are pretty easy with this blog considering my project. The project will eventually merge with the Bleach project, toi, so I also have a thing for that. Overall, I welcome crossovers with most animated media. Live action, I'll consider if you don't use icons with me (it ends up looking like Who Framed Roger Rabbit in my head) I don't do any real person stuff beyond, say, having Masaru listen to real bands or know of other public figures.

There is also a flexibility in playing Masaru in other countries. He could visit family in Russia or Afghanistan, he can be sent over from DATS to help with digimon appearances in countries allied with Japan (coughcontroloverjapanliketheuscough) or I totally ship him with Touma, so he could be in whatever that country is (obviously a Germanic nation in Western Europe)

He's definitely leftist, but his tactics aren't really common among the left. Typically, it's the fascists that will throw the first punch. Except Masaru will, as well. Unfortunately, this means he can take *away* from, say, antifa efforts to counter demo anti-Korean rioters.

He looks down on most weapon use, but probably none more so than guns and other weapons that remove the user from the target. To him, anyone who hides safely behind a weapon and makes the fight so one-sided is a coward. To this extent, he thinks war should be done away with and the leaders of the countries should duel instead of America just wiping out thousands of Japanese (WWII) or Afghani (during his lifetime) civilians (well, in that war, it was definitely not the Afghani government's fault, as that was a radical rebel sect powered initially by Regean, but it was most certainly civilian deaths en masse)

Masaru cannot meditate at all. He's also very reactive. To that extent, he's never really done well with martial arts. There's a lot less focus on self-discipline in boxing and wrestling than in Aikido or karate or what have you. He'd probably love the intensity of Krav Maga or CQC. I just don't know if Krav Maga has a self-discipline component. CQC almost certainly doesn't--it's American.

More when I think of it.

[zukadiary]

Hoshigumi Small Theaters ~ Spring 2019

I am five entire shows behind on reviews and I hate it!!

But I finally make it to Kansai!! I conveniently managed to see these guys on back to back days upstairs and downstairs in the same building. If nothing else I think I am 500% more educated on Hoshigumi after this trip.

Man from Algiers / Estrellas 2.0

Man from Algiers ticks all the National Tour buttons—old, done many times, ambiguous time period (useful for traveling costume recycling, i.e. why not just use the rainbow sports jackets we need for Estrellas anyway!)—and while I’m not surprised that Coto can make just about anything good, I was a bit surprised at how much I enjoyed the show itself (this was the first time I’d seen it at all, which was a blessing as the surprise ending was my favorite part). 

I can definitely envision it in all its original 70s glory, and it made me wonder if they really just wanted to exploit a West Side Story aesthetic’s swoon-inducing abilities and came up with the plot later; the opening looks and choreography were awfully familiar. Am I saying it didn’t work?

No I am not saying that.

(And the resulting prologue number was really cool).

The story, while dated, was simple and easy to follow, and does a great job of making sure you understand each character’s motivation with minimal info (difficult AND clutch for one-acts). There’s a good summary on the wiki, I’m including spoilers not mentioned there.

Team National Tour is definitely the lighter side of the troupe split, especially with regard to upperclassmen, but I thought Algiers was a good fit for this particular arrangement of members, and everyone really nailed their characters. Most notable: 

Julien is a despicable person, and it’s a testament to Coto’s pure heart and brimming talent that she made him a totally valid protagonist, complete with moments that made my heart lurch a little (when his old friends are bullying him in his cute little chauffeur outfit; how quickly he abandons everything to stand by Sabine when everything goes to hell at the end). 

It was very weird first not to see Aichan in Ocean’s and then to see her hanging out with a percentage of Hoshigumi, but this cast needed her. Her Jacques (albeit very reminiscent of her Bernardo) was a good balance for Coto; they both played unsavory people, but Aichan playing bad has kind of a darker streak that suits the more evil friend well, whereas Coto playing bad still has an undercurrent of goodness that gets you fully on board with his journey to reform.

Otoha Minori as Sabine was a good choice not only for her abs in the gold night club bikini dress, but for her maturity, which lended sincerity to Sabine’s fantasy-level selflessness in her concern for Julien and her desire to watch over him. When she shoots Jacques in her dressing room to get him out of the way so he can’t interfere with Julien’s new life, I was so impressed that it read as an act of sacrifice (however excessive and stupid) purely out of love and desire to see Julien continue to grow and succeed, instead of “look at what I did for you, come back to me!”

Asamizu Ryou played Bollinger, the dude who takes Julien in and grooms him for upper-crust success, opposite not just Coto (her senpai) but Shirotae Natsu (her mega-senpai), and she did it with a surprising amount of gravitas. She’s got that face which definitely helps, but she was a little scary and exuded a lot of authority. Shirotae Natsu was hilarious as the extraordinarily airheaded wife, and her interjections may have even been singlehandedly responsible for keeping the pacing of the show brisk and entertaining. 

Sakuraba Mai played the Bollingers’ daughter Elizabeth. She was detestable, but in the way that indicates a great acting job. She’s at that awkward spot where it looks like she’s getting almost heroine weight roles in small theaters and disappearing in grand theaters. I hope they keep pushing her because she’s very strong.

Number one heartbreaker Kozakura Honoka (voice of an angel!) played blind Annabel, daughter of Kumichou/a very influential duchess. She mostly stays inside alone, and then Julien woos her with the intention of climbing the social/political ladder (while developing feelings for Elizabeth and also really never getting over Sabine). Annabel overhears Julien confessing his feelings to Elizabeth and asks her attendant Andre (Kiwami Shin, in love with Annabel) to let her kill herself. Honoka apparently put an immense amount of time and research into acting blind and it showed. 

Fellow American Sayaka Rin had probably the most lines she’s had yet, in a role formerly held by both Takashio Tomoe and Hyuuga Kaoru <3 

My personal MVPs of this show were Shidou Ryuu and Kiwami Shin, Shidou not even for doing anything particularly spectacular, but just just for having grown so much since I first became aware of her existence via the Koumori shinko 3+ years ago. She’s always going to be on the cute side rather than the devastating side IMO, but she’s developed enough confidence and control in her acting that she’s become a really lovable best friend/brother type; her character’s relationship with Julien and secret-but-obvious admiration of his far superior coolness was really adorable. Andre (Shin) isn’t a super juicy role until the very end, but the way Shin did Andre’s quiet breakdown when Annabel was explaining she didn’t want to live anymore, and then her poise when Andre came out of nowhere and shot Julien just as he and Sabine were trying to run away from shooting Jacques (?!??!) was like, my jaw actually dropped. Granted she’s still super young, but Shin isn’t someone who has thus far impressed me proportionately to the amount they’re pushing her, so this mini breakout was nice to see. 

Estrellas (a revue that I loved!), like all tour revues with less than half the cast and no staircase, felt quite small, at least from the B-seki side box. But in the smallness, normally unseen people get to shine, and there were moments that had me bouncing in my chair. Amato Kanon is going to grow up dangerous (if Tennis Daughter doesn’t just consume all the otokoyaku below 98th); in the opening with everyone else beaming she was smoldering. Aichan and Anru took Kai’s medley (with different songs) and made it a very cute douki thing. Sazanami Reira needs to dance closer to the front more often. Ruri Hanaka (who, bless her heart, cannot sing, at least not like a musumeyaku) somehow snagged Airi’s part in Tonight is What it Means to be Young, and despite the singing, absolutely killed it; that girl can DANCE and she’s got sass and arm muscles for days and a look in her eye like she’ll superglue you to your makeup table if you cross her. 

And boy, Coto looks good in that top position. The talent is really stupid, but on top of that she has such warmth. I’m really excited for her Hoshigumi.

Kamatari

Kamatari accomplished a feat, because admittedly I went in having already biased myself against it; I thought Beni and Airi getting a weird nihonmono for their last small theater was dumb and just about as NOT THEM as you can get.

But I take it back! It was lovely!

For starters it was visually stunning, which feels like the thing you say when you’re trying to convince yourself that you liked a nihonmono you didn’t actually understand a word of... but in this case, it really was just a bonus. The story (summary here) is not actually all that complicated, and the dialogue was even on the friendly side for nihonmono—no weird dialects (beyond what it always takes to decipher Beni), no 12th level keigo. 

Act 1 introduces Kamatari (Beni) and Soga no Iruka (Hanagata Hikaru) meeting as youths in school and developing a friendship, and then takes us, as far as I can tell, fairly historically accurately through the events leading up to and including the Isshi Incident. Act 2 was a little harder for me to follow; but it seems to be just a progression of Kamatari’s struggles living under the new post-incident emperor Naka no Oe (Seocchi), with whom he’d conspired to eliminate Soga no Iruka, and the former empress/Naka no Oe’s mother (Kuracchi), who wants to see Kamatari suffer, because she both loved Iruka and couldn’t side against her son. 

Most of the roles were pretty small so there are fewer standouts, but here they are:

This was the third in a progression of Hoshi shows I saw live (the other two being Another World and Elbe) that really helped cement my respect for Beni and Airi’s brand of chemistry. At the beginning of her top run, I was skeptical about Beni’s ability to generate romantic chemistry with anyone at all (Scarlet Pimpernel didn’t really help me with that, and I haven’t seen anything between that and Another World). They definitely don’t have sizzling hot chemistry, and they don’t have that cute newlywed chemistry either, but I noticed watching Kamatari that in the last few Hoshi things I’ve seen, I’ve found it very easy to believe how deeply Beni loves Airi in whatever world they’re portraying. They have like, comfortable old married couple chemistry (yes, even when they’re playing love at first sight). Their moments in Kamatari were very tender, but in a wholesome “aw, she cooked for him” kind of way. Yoshiko (Airi) also had a lovely part at the end, where the two of them are old, and Kamatari’s health is failing, and they go back to the spot where they met, and she says their life wasn’t always easy, and they suffered, and they struggled, but in the end she can honestly say she had fun, and she’s truly happy. I teared up! It was sweet and meta! That alone convinced me it wasn’t a bad last small theater for them.

Hanagata Hikaru was SO much the star of Act 1 that it had me wondering if this was gonna turn out to be HER taidan present (but then she died and didn’t appear in Act 2 at all). I can’t complain because she kicked ass. I feel like I said this exact thing re: Another World, but Mitsuru is normally about as vanilla as it gets for me, but she blew me away. The pompous genius school kid to the idealistic young man to the uncertainty that comes with the reality of seizing power to the change to tyranny mixed with love for the empress and complicated feelings for his childhood friend all flowed seamlessly.

Not that I’ve watched a ton of Hoshi recently, but this was the best role Tenju Mitsuki has gotten in GOD I can’t even remember how long. Esaka is in service of the (state? empire?) as a historical record keeper, and serves kind of as a narrator as well (along with Itsuki Chihiro). I don’t even know how to describe how she characterized him... he’s odd? Maybe a little off? Regardless, she was brilliant. Watch it.

Arisa Hitomi has that empress energy for sure. I read up on the history of the events afterwards, and the explanation of why she had to give up the throne after witnessing such violence (the idea back then that an empress couldn’t be sullied by such things), and that made the sensitivity with which Kuracchi portrayed her feel even more poignant the more I sat with it afterwards.

This was the first show where to me Seocchi felt like she belonged up there with Beni and Mitsuru. She definitely put some weight behind Naka no Oe and was very princely. NOW I wanna see her tackle a more interesting/challenging (and tbh more Hoshigumi) role from up in this spot. 

All in all now I’m a little sad I won’t be around for God of Stars.

[sgnolivia]

weird flex— are you okay??

two days into maybe-olivia’s eat-pray-love-crush-enemy-skulls pillage of cleveland, she’s struck by a migraine so searing that she has enough presence of mind to google psnn hesd dyig strook e ? before she’s left twitching in a trash heap behind starbucks.

two days into maybe-olivia’s eat-pray-love-crush-enemy-skulls pillage of cleveland, she’s struck by a migraine so searing that she has enough presence of mind to google psnn hesd dyig strook e ? before she’s left twitching in a trash heap behind starbucks.

it’s still light out when her brain stops trying to design, manufacture, and detonate it’s own atomic bomb. maybe-olivia isn’t sure if it’s been three hours or three days. the double chocolate chip frappe she bought t-minus five to blackout (ha!) has solidified on her pants. she can taste seafoam under her tongue.

she stares up at the sky in muted exhaustion. 

god, it’s me, she thinks. i would like to invoke my right to choose. 

perhaps if the zygote tube had been pro-choice, none of this would be fucking happening. 

the lizard takes over all executive functioning at that point, forcibly ejecting her from the drivers seat. when she blinks down at her shirt it’s neon green and has a fun i love chicago! written across a black skyline. 

maybe-olivia wonders if she saw the blue bedroom and doesn’t remember it. hopefully the lizard wrote it in the unicorn book.

not that it matters. what’s another forgotten thing in the grand scheme of it all? it’s a fifty-fifty shot she’ll remember anything she’s written in the notebook, anyway. her memory is half a step above melted swiss cheese. 

from that point on, every decision is like russian roulette with a gun that’s fully loaded. maybe-olivia has no fucking idea what’s going to set her spinning into a migraine or send her flying off the realm of human existence or remind her, hey, she fucking loves macaroons. it’s a lot of calculated risks and maybe-olivia discovers that she’s very bad at math. 

it goes on like this for an indeterminable amount of time. 

she tries to balance her world-wide assassination tour with her brain’s need to self-destruct every seventy-three seconds. it is difficult. 

after the act of dying her hair a soft brown sends her tripping into a panic attack, shivering violently and puking all over the nice bathroom of the vacation home she’s squatting in, maybe-olivia decides this isn’t working. 

the unicorn notebook is full, so maybe-olivia unpacks the glittery purple one she bought to replace it. the pen that lights up was lost somewhere in bolivia so she has to settle for a fatter pen that holds four different wells of ink. she feels traitorous for liking it more than its predecessor. 

option 1:

die. 

honestly, this is the easiest and most cost-effective route. at this point she’s ninety-five percent sentient machine gun. there wouldn’t be much lost. blackout was set to be decommissioned after operation foxtrot anyway. maybe-olivia would just be finishing what was set into motion a long time ago. 

she switches the pen into the blue inkwell and sets up a t-chart.

pros:

no more migraines.

won’t wake up in romanian hostel.

stop randomly puking.

permanently get rid of lizard.

cons:

maybe-oliva sits back in the chair. this list is marginally harder. 

agency is exhausting and confusing. some days she’s completely post-verbal and other days she can only speak argentinian spanish, despite having no memories related to argentina. some days she physically can’t wake her body up for more than six minutes at a time. most days she throws up everything she tries to eat. 

maybe-olivia wishes she was strapped back into her holding cell in the unnamed facility, twelve floors below the earth. 

this transforms her body into a wet chihuahua. it takes four hours to pull her bones back inside her skin and another two just to get off the floor. 

jesus, she thinks, and adds keep bones in skin to the pros list. 

she ruminates on her death for a bit, losing time to daydreaming about the endless sleep that might await her. none of her training covered the afterlife so this is as much a guess as everything else in her life. maybe it’s an endless blank void. maybe it’s burning in a pit. maybe it’s a another shot. maybe-olivia hopes not. she doesn’t know if her spirit can handle another go-round of this. 

but, her brain lizard pipes up, then they would win!

maybe-olivia growls out loud and pointedly tells it to shut the fuck up even if she begrudgingly admits that it has a point. 

if she dies, then director howard lives. 

this alights something hot deep in her gut. it feels like she has to puke and run fourteen miles at the same time. there’s no way in hell marcus fucking howard gets to live over her. fuck that. fuck that. 

and really, doesn’t she deserve that? doesn’t she deserve the right to drag howard out of his villa safehouse, shove a piece of rubber in his mouth, break all his fingers, and ask what her real goddamn name is?

project sisyphyus has been trying to kill her— the real her— for eleven fucking years and they still haven’t gotten it done. she wins, they lose. they’ll have to try harder. 

she writes fuck that in the scrawling, bunched together lettering she’s beginning to associate with her own personal handwriting. it’s nice. it feels like she owns something.

fuck that.

if they want me dead, they better fucking find me.

option 2:

get it the fuck together

there are no cons to this. she doesn’t need a t-chart. 

getting it together proves to be a con all on it’s own. her brain is a glorified vegetable but it’s all she’s got. it’s not like she can swap it out for a new one. it needs serious repairs though, and short of hooking her scalp up to a car battery, maybe-olivia isn’t sure how to go about this. 

google is, though.

and google doesn’t care if she has to look something up four times an hour. it points her towards helpful websites. searching how do i get my memories back and following it with who the fuck am i six times in half as many hours points her to a self-help thread which leads her to a diagnosis forum. she has acute brain trauma, post-traumatic stress disorder, dissociative episodes, panic attacks, and sometimes seizures. also, maybe arthritis. she has to ask google what dissociation means. 

maybe-olivia is struck with the overwhelming knowledge that other people know what she’s going through. there are other people who fell head first out of a plane with no parachute and have been hurtling towards the ground for as long as they can remember. sure, they haven’t been tortured and brainwashed and denied the basic human rights that are allocated pretty much across the board but she doesn’t care. she feels connected to these people who live half outside of their skin, wondering the earth like zombies chewed up in the garbage disposal. 

they teach coping strategies. ways to fake normal existence so that it seems like they’re living in the same reality as everyone else. how to breathe when her lungs collapse. how to avoid physical contact in day-to-day situations. 

a lot of them gently suggest finding creative outlets for her feelings. she tries writing but after penning an expansive four page letter in cantonese only to suddenly forget how to read cantonese, she gives that up. 

she decides she isn’t really ready to sift through her emotions. her bodies fucked up instincts are enough without trying to decide if she’s depressed, furious, or anxious on top of it. 

google assures her that recovery happens in stages and at her own pace. if you aren’t ready today, try a little bit more tomorrow. 

her brain still jerks her around like it’s the worlds most aggressive dog owner and she’s the runt of a teacup poodle’s litter, but it works to her advantage. no one can track her if even she has no idea where she’s going next. the targets come in migraines, in hallucinations, in dissociative fits, but they come and maybe-olivia dutifully follows, even if she can’t remember doing it. it’s admittedly a reckless strategy but if there’s a part of her that isn’t a screaming disaster then she hasn’t recovered that part yet. 

she reviews her notebooks every few days, now. they look like they’ve been written by at least four people, one of them being a small child. there’s a variety of languages, handwriting styles, codes, and small illustrations. one page just says fuck licorice in increasingly bold font, fiercely underlined and surrounded by aggressive exclamation points. 

it doesn’t do much except reaffirm that she has the minimal amount of control required to be a human being, but that’s okay. 

a lot of her problems sort themselves out once a helpful blog post points out that she’s eating about a third of what’s required of adult women. this is mostly because she constantly throws up anything that tastes more flavorful than wheat bread but also because she’s never really had to feed herself before. hunger is just another loud, shrieking signal her body sends at her to inform her that something’s wrong, but it sends fifty of those a minute. how’s she supposed to know where the problem is?

a steady combination of pedialyte, muscle milk, and a bottle of gummy vitamins becomes the solution. she has to set alarms to remind herself to drink them and it isn’t ideal, but it keeps her caloric intake up, and solves the arthritis issue. 

it also makes it easier to actually keep the memories she recovers which is a huge win. 

that doesn’t mean things are smooth by anyone’s standards, including her own. random things still absolutely kneecap her— a dad yelling at his son, a lawn mower starting up outside the motel, her own abilities blinding her first thing in the morning. but every incapaciting moment gives a clue. 

a car backfires on the road and maybe-olivia darts behind a minivan, seeing both the tan metal under her hand and white sand beaches. 

239948S462569W

maybe-olivia has never infiltrated a fully-staffed enemy facility on her own before. that’s alright. it can be a learning experience for everyone. 

[baby-batboys]

Kink A-Z: Jason Todd

A/N: Heyyoo it’s time to get nasty ya’ll. Admittedly, this is more explicit than Dick’s but Jason is more explicit than Dick in general. And by god, I’m sorry this took so long. Long day. But I finally have RHATO Vol.2 and Injustice 2! Yay me! Also sorry if this is all over the place, I wrote this in short bursts, so yeah.

Warnings: Explicit. EXTREMELY NSFW.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Quiet. After the deed, Jason is fairly peaceful. He’s not opposed to pillow talk, but Jason is more of the guy to lay there, fingers in your hair and lingering on your body. If you talk, he’ll listen, maybe nod and hum. But usually, he’s there just replaying the night over and over in his head, in awe of his partner. Yeah, he gets mushy after.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jason loves his arms. Because of the pit, he’s stronger than usual - for him or any other human being - and it shows. Where Dick uses his legs, Jason uses his arms, so they’re nicely toned. Not too buff and not too slim. On his s/o, I feel like he’s way into boobs, big or small, and backs. He likes peppering kisses on his s/o’s breasts and sucking on them, and loves seeing their back arch, to the point he chooses positions where he knows he’ll hit the right spots to see them arch under him.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

I have a lot of opinions about this. His favorite place to cum is on his s/o’s face. Just something about seeing his cum on their face, them looking up at him, he finds it crazy attractive. He also loves handjobs and finishing on his partner’s hands.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Guns. Now, Jason would never hurt his s/o nor would he having a gun around them with the safety off, but just having them there in the bedroom is a huge turn on for him. He would probably never bring it up, but his guns are his babies, and he’d never say no to adding them to the fun.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Flip it anyway you want it, Jason has skill. Quickies, Threesomes, whatever. He knows what he’s doing. Now of course you don’t get much game when you’re six feet under, but he’s intuitive and creative, so that fills in the spots.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Jason has a number of positions in his arsenal and depending on his mood, he’ll go with a different one. His ultimate favorite is ‘Z’ position, having his s/o on their back and him sitting up between their legs. It gives him the perfect view and the perfect angle to go just the pace he wants. His next favorite is cowgirl, them facing him. He likes seeing them in motion, seeing them breathless and gasping on top of him while he holds their hips. His last favorite is missionary and he usually resorts to it when he’s close. It lets him go as rough and as fast as he likes with minimal effort. Plus it lets him go as deep as possible.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Jason is serious. Once he gets to it, he’s into it all the way. He’s zoned in on his partner and how it feels and how he’s unwinding. He’s kind of too preoccupied to come up with funny quips.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s either clean cut or barely trimmed. No in between. Luckily, he’s not one of those unfortunate fucks like Dick who choose to wear skin tight suits, so he has the luxury to pick and choose. Sometimes he’s clean shaven (when he has to time to) and sometimes not. He maintains a balance. And he just likes the look of going ‘Brazilian’ down there. As for carpets and drapes, fuck the whole red-head Jason thing they match. Both Black.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Despite the roughness and how down and dirty he can get, Jason considers sex a really intimate activity. He’s known as the ‘hard-shell’ brother, so it’s not often he’ll open up to someone, which is why when he does have sex he gives it his all. He’ll praise his partner and compliment them to the moon and back, his eyes are glued to them.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

I feel like Jason does jack off, but he’s not a big fan of it or does it often. When he does though, it’s to get the horniness out of the way. He watches porn while he uses his hand or a fleshlight (thanks for the ‘gag-gift’, Roy) and gets down to business. Jason’s a very visual person, all about appearances and taking things in that way, so the porn helps him a lot. Regardless of how much time he has, he likes to do it quick and fast. And just like usual, he finishes all over his hand.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Guns, Public or Semi Public Sex (Mainly libraries or the manor), Breath play, Edging, Periods of Abstinence, Light Bondage, Red Lingerie.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He has a number of places. Of course, above all, he’d rather do it from the comfort of his own home, but there are some other places. These include in between the aisles of libraries, the manor, bar bathrooms, cars, or anywhere he might get caught.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

With Jason, he’s either in the mood or he isn’t. Sometimes he’s really wrapped up in a case, sometimes he’s really into a good book, sometimes he just wants to cuddle. But when he’s in the mood, he loves being teased. In a different way than Dick, he likes it when his s/o plays the jealousy game or acts flirty in public. Maybe it’s because he knows he’ll get his way. But to him it’s a huge turn on and he’ll be carrying you home ASAP to even the score.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Daddy dom, Slave roleplay, Sex on drugs, Non-con roleplay, Bruise-inducing BDSM, Knife-play.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

This goes without saying. Jason loves oral. No matter which end he’s on. He loves getting it and if he’s comfortable with you he’ll ask for it. He loves his s/o looking up at him with him in their mouth, loves having his hands in their hair. It drives him nuts. If you’re a pro at it, Jason is basically a goner, bucking his hips into your mouth without even thinking about it. When it comes to giving, he’s a pro. He likes switching up the pace to keep it fun and likes to make you come more than once. He actually finds it fun.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Patience is Dick’s strong suit, Tim’s too. Not Jason’s. Sure, he’s use to playing the long game at work, but in bed he’s rough and fast paced. He likes being on top because it gives more control pace wise, but he’ll take cues from his partner. Sometimes he might stop for long strokes, but usually he’ll hover over you, put your hands above your head, and just go to town.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Quickie King. He’ll take it anytime. Five minutes before patrol or a meeting with Black Mask? In the manor ten minutes before everyone comes back? Seven minutes before your favorite show is on? Sure. It gives him an excuse to be a little more rough and he loves the feeling of tousled hair and breathless pants. Hot moments between little patches of boring daily life.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Jason lives on risk. It’s probably why he’s been dead before. He’s not changing anytime soon. He has little fantasies he’ll ask to play out and go for and if you have any in mind, as long as it’s not really out there, he’ll be down.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Jason is like his guns. He’ll fire off as many rounds as you need. His stamina is off the charts. Just let him get a drink, take a breather, and he’s ready to go again. He lasts an average amount of time, because he’s not too much of a teaser, but he also doesn’t like to get ahead of himself. Usually, he holds out until his partner gets theirs.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Jason has some toys here and there, nothing big. The ones he does have are usually for couples and they’re all kept in his apartment. Maybe one pack of rope, a fleshlight, a ball gag, ect. He doesn’t use them frequently or routinely and he can get off without them, but they’re there just in case you wanna try something new.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Jason will tease during oral, but that’s as far as he’ll go, because after that to tease his partner is to tease himself. He gets off by seeing or knowing his partner is too, so teasing is pretty counterproductive for him. Now, for him to be teased is another story. Jason is a  man of action, so if you’re holding out and teasing he can flip the tables to make it a tease for you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Jason grunts. He’s a quiet one but one that is very easy to read. His muscles tense, he grips the sheets, and between little actions he lets out grunts and pants and sweet questions like ‘you good?’, ‘you okay?’ and other lovely compliments.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Call him ‘Red’ in bed and he’ll melt. No one knows why, not even him, but call him ‘Jay’ or ‘Red’ or ‘Baby’ in bed and you’ll get whatever you want.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Jason owns like five pairs of boxers. One is for suits, two are for if he’s wearing leather pants. The other two are reserved for if people are coming over and if he’s working out. Besides that, commando all day. Especially if he’s wearing sweatpants. It’s comfortable.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Jason can do without, but he very much prefers to do with. Jason has a high drive with high stamina, but if he’s not getting any then he’ll be fine. But it’s more a case of willpower than drive.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Jason doesn’t, not unless prompted to. He’ll go to sleep if his partner does, but if not he’ll just lay there and talk to them all night. Jason’s a light sleeper - deep sleep reminds him too much of being dead - and only really goes into a deep sleep when he’s drugged, sedated, or after he’s been hurt. Most times, if his partner doesn’t go to sleep, he’ll get up and go get snacks to share, or just grab a book.

[nelliievance]

Time Efficient Multi-Set Strength Training For Fat Loss

I’ve never been a fan of multi-set strength training. I suppose it was because strength training wasn’t my favorite to begin with and I liked the idea of getting it over more quickly. A single set of an exercise takes a lot less time than multiple sets, and the recommendation of the American College of Sports Medicine is that a single set of exercises that hit major muscle groups is good for health purposes. Bodybuilders will cite studies that show multiple sets are 40% more effective than single sets for muscle growth. However, the book High-Intensity Strength Training [1] shows various techniques for adding intensity to single set training that are also about 40% more effective than conventional single-set training, while still being much more time efficient than multiple set training.

I’m sure you’ve seen people hanging out in the weight room at the gym for a long period of time. They do a set of an exercise, than have to wait around several minutes for recovery before the next set . They often spend this time doing things like chatting with other people or playing with their phones (although, admittedly, there are more productive ways to spend this time, like Pavel Tsatsouline’s fast and loose drills). All the time between sets makes a workout take a long time, which has never appealed to me. To each his own. As I stated in my Getting started with resistance training post, multi-sets is effective and may be your cup of tea if you enjoy strength training, but single sets are more time efficient and may be better if you don’t enjoy it.

This is why I’ve always preferred single-set training, with high intensity techniques thrown in. My favorite is a variation of what’s called “breakdown” training *similar to “drop sets”): I do a single set, pause a couple of seconds to recover, than squeeze out a few more reps. In breakdown training, it’s recommended to drop the load a little before the extra reps, e.g. move the pin on a machine or grab the next lighter dumbbell. This is even easier with resistance bands, you can just not extend the band quite as much during the extra reps.

Then I discovered isometric training is very effective and even more time efficient than single set training, so I’ve worked that into the mix.

Multi-sets For Fat Loss

So what changed to make me interested in multiple sets again, and how can you make them more time efficient? For many of us, one of our main motivations for working out is to achieve fat loss. There is some evidence that resistance training is effective for fat loss, and recently in several places I’ve read the recommendation of doing resistance training with multiple sets but minimum rest between sets. This doesn’t mean lots of reps with lower weights, it still involves high resistance. It is also similar to “metabolic conditioning” (metcon) workouts done in CrossFit. Hard resistance training with minimum rest between sets is claimed to be optimum for fat loss because it produces a lot of lactate, which in turn promotes secretion of human growth hormone (hgh). It is actually lactic acid that is produced by exercise, but it becomes lactate in the bloodstream after giving off a hydrogen ion.

Just googling “lactate and fat loss” leads to a lot of discussion of this resistance training approach. There is solid science behind the connection between lactate and production of hgh, for example [2]. The connection between naturally produced hgh and fat loss is murkier, It’s harder to investigate because most of the studies found are about externally applied (exogenous) hgh, which I don’t think is a good idea (except possibly if recommended by an MD because you’ve been diagnosed with a deficiency). There are various studies showing a connection between injected hgh and fat loss, for example [3]. For this training approach to be plausible, we have to make the (not unreasonable) assumption that naturally produced hgh will have a similar effect.

Producing “the burn” (lactic acid) while strength training

Multiple sets with minimal rest between sets is not as time consuming. For example, a typical recommendation is four sets of 8 to 10 reps of several compound exercise. Examples might be squats, bench presses, rows, standing presses, and pullups (or lat pulldowns). About 30 secs rest between sets is recommended.

But there are ways to speed it up even more. One is to arrange the exercises in antagonist supersets. For example, the standing press uses muscles like the deltoids and triceps, while the pulldown uses their antagonists like lats and biceps. So you can do a set of standing presses, then immediately jump into the pulldown with no rest. The muscles worked in the press are resting while you do the pulldown, and vice versa. In this way you can quickly go through 4 sets of 2 exercises. The bench press and the row can be paired the same way.

Another option is to use circuit training, so do one set of each exercise, to complete a circuit, and repeat four times, with minimal rest between sets and circuits.

I final trick I like is to use single arm variations. For example, I do a chest press with resistance bands but only do one arm at a time. So I can do a set with the left arm, then immediately switch to the right arm with little rest (just the amount of time needed to switch hands with the handle). I got this idea from “one-man drills” we used to practice in my outrigger canoe club (it really should be called “one-person”, there were lots of women in our club just as good at doing one-man drills as the guys). For four sets I call this “double one-mans” because it’s four times per side.

“One-man drill”: A single paddler is moving the big six-person canoe, while crewmates shout encouragement. Paddling on the left side and right side are repeated twice. Quite a workout!

I do an upper and lower split with my strength training, I concentrate on the upper body twice a week and the lower body two others days. Upper body day had been my least favorite, and the day I was motivated to be as time efficient as possible to get it over with. I do five exercises: chest press, horizontal row, standing press, pulldown, and a twisting exercise similar to kayaking. With a single set, this took about 10 minutes. With four sets and the time saving techniques mentioned, it only takes about 20 minutes. And it is a great workout, I’m gassed afterwards. With a warmup and cooldown, This could be a complete workout for strength and fat loss in about 30 minutes.

This is not my whole workout, I precede it with a warmup and a series of isometric exercise (including abdominal work), then do high-intensity intervals of various resistance stations followed by intervals walking with dumbbells and with poles, and a cooldown. Total time is about 90 minutes. But the extra is more “strength-endurance”, the strength part itself is only about 20 minutes. I do the extra because I enjoy those activities, and hope that this winter I’ll be able to cross country ski and this spring I’ll be able to rent standup paddleboards and kayaks again.

On lower body or “leg” day, I just do my hard training on my bike or hiking. So I didn’t have to change much to implement the multi-set idea, I just bumped up my on-bike strength training drills from 2 sets to 4. I just find a hill, put it in a high gear, and grind a short way up while standing and pulling on the handlebars for leverage, about 10 revolutions (10 reps per leg). This is very similar to a single-leg press but more enjoyable for me. I’m continuing doing the other high intensity intervals I was doing on the bike or up hills hiking. I’ve also added some isometric training to strengthen my calfs and hip flexors off the bike.

Making it Fun

Strength training is a lot more fun for me if I connect it to activities or sports that is will make me better at. The one-sided chest press is like boxing, and one-handed rowing and the kayak twisting exercise are related to canoe and kayak paddling. These exercises also make me more conditioned for cross country skiing. For me, this makes them a lot more fun than if I am just doing them for fat loss. My high-intensity intervals are also more fun because they mimic activities I enjoy.

Results

There are a lot of stories on the internet of people making rapid progress for fat loss with “lactate strength training” (multiple sets with minimal rest between). I can’t attest to that personally, because I never tried it at a time when I needed to lose a lot of weight. But I can say that, for me, it has worked great as a plateau buster. I’m working on getting rid of the last stubborn couple of inches around the waist, and was stuck for weeks, and am now making progress again.

Warmup and Cooldown

My warmup and cooldown are simple. I do exercises at an easy pace that use the muscles that will be doing the work in the main part of the program. So on “upper day” I just do a minimum of 5 minutes of brisk walking with light hand weights. On “leg” day I just spin easily in a low gear on my bike for the warmup and cooldown. You can make a bigger deal out of it than that, especially if you were training for something like powerlifting where you do max lifts. But my simple approach has always served me well.

References

Westcott, W, and D’Arpino, T, High-Intensity Strength Training, Healthy Learning, 2015

Godfrey, R, Madgwick, Z, and Whyte, G, “The exercise-induced growth hormone response in athletes”, Sports Med, 2003.

Snydera,D, Underwoodb, L, and Clemmons, R, “Persistent lipolytic effect of exogenous growth hormone during caloric restriction”, The American Journal of Medicine. 1995.

Time Efficient Multi-Set Strength Training For Fat Loss published first on https://steroidsca.tumblr.com/

[frozenfruitdrinksnejt059-blog]

Getting My Frozen Passion Fruit To Work

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Icy fruits are ideal for essentially any occasion: breakfast, a snack, in a shake, a healthy and balanced treat ... the opportunities are really countless. While many nutritional experts claim that nutrient damages from cold is extremely minimal, it is very important to note that (depending upon the water web content of the fruit) the loss of certain antioxidants like beta-carotene is possible during the freezing procedure.

Freezing fruits yourself at the optimal of perfection may really reduce the ripening or decay procedure, preserving the levels of particular healthy nutrients, like vitamins, minerals and phytochemicals. In truth, the pre-packaged frozen version might be no even worse than the fresh, which will certainly frequently experience some nutrient loss throughout its trip from farm to supermarket.

Throughout the cold process, the water inside the fruit's cells broadens as it freezes, which often causes cell membranes to swell or break, causing a softer structure when the fruit is defrosted. The remedy? Eat the icy fruit when it's still icy (so rejuvenating), layer it in chocolate or pop it in a blender, in which case the texture won't make a distinction.

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Try out these six, and also you'll be well on your method to frozen fruit bliss. Katherine Carroll Water web content: 74% Icy bananas are not just scrumptious, yet are likewise a fantastic way to protect and get extra use out of excessively ripe bananas. If you're trying to find a healthy and balanced treat choice, attempt banana "wonderful" lotion, an easy version of "gelato" that has just one active ingredient: icy bananas.

Get rid of the peels prior to freezing to make them a lot easier to consume once iced up. Anika Mian Water web content: 81% Admittedly, I'm not a significant fan of routine grapes, but when frozen, they transform, becoming much sweeter as well as taking on a nearly ice cream-like appearance. Grapes are notorious for being a high-sugar fruit, yet at only 62 calories per cup, they fade in contrast to a "little" late-night snack, like a single cup of Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough Ice Lotion (540 calories).

Anika Mian Water web content: 85% I didn't think anything can be extra revitalizing than blueberries till I uncovered the Holy Grail: icy blueberries. Stick to the frozen range, as well as never again will certainly you have to suffer with the discomfort http://www.bbc.co.uk/search?q=frozen fruits of out-of-season berries (read: mushy or tasteless). You can buy them in gallon bags, however I directly advise freezing them right in the container.

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When frozen, every bite tastes like a less-artificial Dreamsicle. Comparable to bananas, get rid of the peel before cold so that you have simple accessibility to the freshly iced up goods. Water content: 87% Frozen raspberries melt in your mouth like a Hershey's kiss. Pop them in a mixer with a little sugar as well as a sprinkle of almond milk as well as you've obtained yourself a remarkably very easy raspberry sorbet.

Truthfully, there are few things far better than coming home to the view of a fruit-filled fridge freezer. Frozen fruit is pass on the easiest, healthiest as well as most delightful means to #treatyoself. Remember, though, to stick to low-water-content fruits for much better taste, structure and also general nutrient content.

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Whether your grocery store runs out your favored fruit and vegetables or you're trying to limit your journeys to the grocery shop, icy fruits and also veggies are a wonderful choice. They can be a lot more nutritious than their fresh counterparts, as they're flash-frozen and also will certainly retain nutrients without ruining. And they're fantastic to have on hand when you wish to include some healthy aspects right into your dishes.

They're nutrient-rich and also will work in countless various recipeswe've even included some recipe suggestions to obtain you began. Polina Prokofieva/ShutterstockStrawberries are a breakfast (as well as treat) traditional for a factor. They're high in vitamin C as well as are delicious in baked products, mixed into healthy smoothies, or offered atop yogurt or oat meal for a hearty morning meal.

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Ekaterina Kondratova/ShutterstockIf you can discover frozen butternut squash at your neighborhood grocery shop, it deserves a buy! You can include the cubes to baked mac as well as cheese for a nutritional boost, or roast the dices as well as serve them atop a salad. The most effective part? You don't have to do the work of slicing the squash yourself.

Here are 20 Hard-to-Find GroceriesAnd Where to Find Them. ShutterstockFrozen peas are good for even more than calming your pains and also discomforts! Adding peas to your dishes will certainly give you an added protein increase as well as supply you with even more than 3 grams of fiber, too. Appreciate them in stir-fries or included in soups.

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ShutterstockYou do not need to burst out the spiralizer each time you desire a pasta replacement. Brand Names like Trader Joe's and also Green Giant sell spiralized zucchini, carrots, as well as more. Throw them with pasta sauce or stir-fry them for a low-carb dinner. Try your spiralized veggies in this dish for Zucchini Spaghetti with Turkey Meatballs.

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Diana Taliun/ShutterstockWhatever way you purchase itcanned, iced up, or freshcorn is a delicious means to include even more taste and also nutrients to your dish. Use icy corn in homemade salsas or white chili dishes. We enjoy these 20 Corn Recipes That Crush It. ShutterstockBroccoli is a great resource of vitamin C, vitamin A, and vitamin K.

Try roasting it with garlic or sauting it stovetop for an easy side dish. For a super-easy recipe, attempt these Broccoli-Cheese Eggs in a Cup. ShutterstockFresh cherries can be pricey, so maintaining the frozen variety on your shopping checklist is a should if you're trying to save money. Put the fruit to great use in this Wonderful and Luscious Chocolate-Covered Cherry Healthy Smoothie Dish Dish.

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Use it in any kind of recipes where you 'd make use of routine rice! These 20 Cauliflower Rice Recipes are a great location to begin. ShutterstockNo, you can not most likely to your favorite sushi area during quarantine, but you can still make a tasty bowl of edamame at residence. Just microwave some icy edamame, add a little salt, and you're good to go.

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George Dolgikh/ShutterstockYou do not need to wait up until Thanksgiving rolls around to appreciate a tasty side dish of Brussels sprouts. If you buy them iced up, they're wonderful at any time of year! Attempt cooking them with bacon for a yummy addition to any type of dish. Attempt the veggie in this Brussels Sprouts Garnished With Bacon as well as Almonds Recipe.

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They do not need to be baked right into a casseroleyou can prepare frozen environment-friendly beans for a straightforward side meal to any chicken supper. Try these 17 Good-for-You Eco-friendly Bean Recipes. ShutterstockAs with bananas, you might not find frozen grapes in your grocery shop. However you can freeze fresh grapes for a fast and simple reward! You can even use them to cool down your a glass of wine without sprinkling it downall of these usages are why grapes are one of the 50 Foods You have actually Been Eating Wrong Your Whole Life.

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Registered Dietitian and Nutritionist Ilana Muhlstein lost her weight and also maintained it offand in You Can Drop It!, she'll show you how to lose it, also. More than 240,000 customers have actually chosen her programand now it's yours to maintain.

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The potassium in cherries additionally makes them an excellent workout recovery snack (considering that potassium is an electrolyte), so Cascio says including them in a post-run or post-virtual exercise smoothie mix can assist nourish muscles. One study published in the European Journal of Sports Science found that cherry concentrate cause much less muscle mass pain post-workout. "Another fun reality regarding cherries is that they have melatonin, which is linked to better rest," Cascio states.

Associated Stories Okay, so you possibly aren't going on any tropical vacations anytime soon, yet a minimum of you can get a preference of somewhere beachy with this frozen fruit. "Even when fresh papaya is hard to obtain, virtually every supermarket has actually frozen papaya," Cascio states. She's a follower of this fruit due to the fact that of its fiber, vitamin C, as well as beta-carotene (a forerunner to vitamin A) web content.

" It has more than 200 percent of the quantity of vitamin C you require for the day." Take that, oranges. Cascio claims that papaya can also aid with irregularity as well as bloating because of the enzyme papin, which helps digest proteins. This makes it a terrific after-dinner snack. Try it by making vegan nice-cream; just utilize your blender or food Find more info processor or food cpu to mix your icy papaya with the plant-based milk of your option.

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( Or, follow this dish. It utilizes fresh papaya, yet frozen papaya functions simply as well.) Mango is another exotic fruit that isn't constantly simple to find fresh, however is available iced up at nearly every food store. Similar to papaya, Cascio says it additionally aids with digestion since it has plenty of probiotics and also fiber, both of which are essential completely digestive tract wellness.

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[skamwich]

i don’t believe in yoga

read it here or on ao3

summary:  Even Bech Næsheim runs and teaches at Under Vann yoga studio, and Isak Valtersen lost a bet to which the punishment was to go to a yoga class in hot pink yoga pants. Needless to say, this will be an interesting class. Featuring a flustered Isak, and a slightly bitter Even.

notes: this was so much fun to write! thank you so much to the literal angel @lifestooshortnottobewhoyouare

-

If you would have told fifteen year-old Even Bech Næsheim that in seven years he would be working in a pretentious yoga studio that sold tinctures, nutritional supplements, and teas, he would have had a good laugh. Now, if you told him that he would be the head yoga instructor in that studio and would be constantly sipping all organic, loose leaf, non-GMO green tea…

He would have punched you. In the face. With only a slight bit of guilt.

Truth was, during high school, his bipolar disorder had taken control of his life. He had started to get episodes very frequently because of alcohol and drug intake, and lack of sleep. It was his way of coping with his increased loneliness and pessimism because he had few acquaintances and close to no friends.

In his third year, he had discussed his coping methods with his therapist. She had said that he needed to find a “natural high,” an alternative to drugs, which had sounded like a load of bullshit to Even at the time. To his dismay, his therapist had insisted that he needed to find a replacement for the weed and beer so he could keep chemical balance in his brain.

“Try something active, something that releases adrenaline and endorphins. It will be just as good as marijuana,” his therapist, Kayla, had told him while reviewing her papers.

Even had rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. This is so incredibly stupid, he had thought to himself.

Kayla had handed him a pamphlet with a group of smiling teenagers giving the camera the thumbs up. On the top it had said: Find YOUR Natural High!

Even had started to feel a bit queasy.

“This pamphlet has tons of activities to do to reach a natural high. Try a couple that catch your attention. In next week’s session, we’ll discuss what worked and what didn’t,” Kayla had said with a smile.

He had tried running, which was instantly turned down, painting, playing the piano, origami, and even knitting. (The last hobby would never be admitted to anyone or he would never hear the end of it.) As a last advance on tackling this “natural high,” he tried yoga.

What the hell do I have to lose?

He had looked up a tutorial on youtube, given it a try and… felt completely calm. It had been the most at peace he’d felt with himself in years, and it had turned out to be a great little hobby. He had practiced it first thing in the morning and when he couldn’t sleep. It was one of his favorite things to do. While he definitely didn’t think it was a high, it was calming and made him gain a bit of muscle while he was at it, so that was a plus.

He had no idea that his hobby would end up being his career.

~

Even was currently standing at the front desk of the studio talking to his secretary Eskild, whose bright disposition

and overbearing personality was pissing Even off a little bit, to be honest.

“Even, I swear, all you ever do is teach your classes at the studio and sleep. No wonder you’re always so agitated all the time! You never have any fun!” Eskild stated whilst looking at Even critically.

Even scoffed and said, “Yoga is fun.”

“Not as fun as this party will be! Seriously, babe, how great can sun salutation be?” Eskild said with an unamused look.

Even looked around the turquoise room, making sure they weren’t bickering in front of customers. “Maybe if you took interest in what I like to do for a change, you would know that it’s pretty fucking spectacular. Eskild, you’re not my mother, just let me live my life the way I want. No parties.”

Eskild rolled his eyes and picked up the phone that had begun to ring. Even turned away from him and took a deep breath. He knew he should be getting ready for his next class. He quickly checked his phone to see what class it was.

12:15 - Beginner’s Yoga

Fantastic. Even thought bitterly to himself. Just what I need. A group of people with no clue of how to do yoga and I will have to spend 10 minutes per pose so everyone can at least get something similar to the correct formation.

Even grabbed the bucket of yoga mats and placed them next to the door of the yoga room for students to grab as they walked in. He took his place at the front and began to warm up before the class started.

~

“You lost the bet, Isak! I already signed you up, you are going to that fucking yoga class! In these lovely yoga pants, might I add.”

Isak stared at Jonas, trying to portray a look of complete confusion, and exclaimed, “What bet? Who are you? Who am I? I’m afraid I’ve lost my memory, I think I should lie down.”

Jonas shoved something into Isak’s chest as he left the room, calling out, “Amnesia won’t work this time. The class starts in 15 minutes at Under Vann Yoga. I’d hurry.”

Isak hadn’t thought it could get worse, but apparently, he had forgotten that his best friend was the actual devil. He looked down to see the aforementioned yoga pants, which shone in a delightful hot pink.  

Isak groaned and went to his room to change. He slid on the offending yoga pants with minimal difficulty and looked at himself in the mirror.

Not half bad, he thought to himself, and if he happened to check out his butt before he left, nobody needed to know.

He walked into the kitchen where his flat mates Mahdi, Magnus, and Jonas were waiting.

“Happy?” Isak asked with a hand on his hip.

The boys doubled over laughing and Mahdi replied, “Very.”

While wheezing, Magnus said, “Jonas, I bet you 50 kroner that by the time Isak gets back, he’s been asked out.”

“You’re on!”

Isak sighed and looked at his watch.

12:00.

Well, if Isak was being forced to go to a yoga class, he might as well make the most of it.

~

When Isak got to the studio, he started to dread ever making that stupid bet about who could down an entire bottle of mustard first. He admittedly should have had a bit more common sense than to agree to participate, but in his defense, it had been between his honor and his burning throat.

The studio had a soft turquoise interior with vibrant couches that had far too many throw pillows on them. They sold books with inspiring titles such as Manifestation and You! and Discover your Aura: Psychic Development. Isak immediately noticed the smell of incense and… cinnamon?  

He reached the desk where a peppy secretary signed him in. “Have you ever done yoga before?” Eskild, according to the name tag, inquired.

“Uh, nope. This is the first time,” Isak said with a distant tone to his voice, still quite anxious for the class. He was not in the mood for small talk.

“So, you’re basically losing your yoga virginity here,” Eskild remarked with a wink. Isak chuckled nervously and said, “I mean, I guess.” He started to make his way to where he presumed he was supposed to go. He grabbed a yoga mat, walked in the room and plopped down on the floor like everyone else was. He scanned the room and –

I’m screwed. I’m so massively screwed. He’s hot. Why is the yoga instructor hot?

The yoga instructor was standing at the front of the room, looking around with a small smile on his lips. He was greeting some people as they walked past to take a seat, and seemed to be fairly calm. His ash blond hair and stunning cerulean eyes made Isak’s heart beat faster. It didn’t help that he proudly displayed his sweatpants and a super loose (almost sheer) shirt.

I am so fucked.

“Hey everyone!” The instructor started, “I’m Even, and I’ll be teaching you today. First off, I…” Even continued to give his speech, and Isak was in a complete trance. His voice is so soothing. Isak shook his head a little and slapped his forehead, without realizing that he just hit himself in front of everyone. He heard a snort and a couple of giggles. Great start, Isak.

Even seemed to be holding back a laugh. “Is everything ok?” He asked. Isak felt his ears burn and gave him a weak smile. “Yep. Just peachy.”

The class refocused their attention on Even and he continued his speech. “Well, without further ado, let’s get started!” Even began to lead the class through a series of poses that he executed perfectly, whilst Isak looked something akin to a failing giraffe.

Halfway through, when Isak was close to falling on his face from exhaustion, Even decided it would be a perfect time to fix everyone’s forms in downward dog. He walked around, pushing someone’s back down or adjusting their feet every once in a while. When he reached Isak he said, “Hey, um… What’s your name?” Isak lifted his head up a bit to look at Even. “Isak,” he grunted.

“Well, Isak, your problem is your hips and feet. First of all, touch your heels to the ground.” Isak obliged and his breath hitched when he felt hands on his hips.

“Your hips are out of placement,” Even explained, and guided his hips back. It was fair to say that at this point, Isak was regretting his life choices by letting his friends force him to wear the yoga pants that he knew Even had to have noticed by now.

“That better?” Even asked. Isak felt himself blushing and muttered, “Uh, yep.”

The class continued without incident (and with Isak happily checking Even out) until “tree pose” came along and Isak nearly toppled into the elderly lady next to him. He saw Even laughing at the front of the room (while in a perfect tree pose, Isak might add) and that made Isak feel a little better.

~

Even was actually enjoying teaching this class, and not just because he had gotten chocolate before class started and he’d been stealing chunks of it throughout class. The moment Even had seen the boy with those blond curls, he had known he was going to be checking him out for the rest of class. The yoga pants he was wearing were just a plus. Not to mention he looked like a literal angel with his rosy cheeks and dramatic lips.

Towards the end of class came the “class meditation”. Everyone had to lay down while Even awkwardly rubbed their temples with ylang ylang oil. This was the primary reason why he hated beginners classes so much.

Once Even had warned the class of what he was going to do, he told everyone to close their eyes and focus on their breathing. He started making his rounds and once he got to Isak, his heartbeat picked up. Even started to rub his temples and while he was at it, he got a better look at his face.

Isak had extremely long eyelashes with freckles scattered around his cheeks. He had fantastic cheekbones and a jawline that could cut. Even decided right there that he was going to ask him out after class.

~

At the end of class, everyone picked up their stuff and headed for the door, but as Isak was leaving, he felt a hand on his waist.  

He turned back and saw Even, with a completely serious look on his face.

“Hey Isak, I just wanted to ask you before you left… Did you get those yoga pants on sale? Because at my house, they’re 100% off.”

Isak’s jaw dropped.

Even looked at him with a radiant grin and said, “If you’re not up for my house, how about dinner?”

Isak felt the corners of his mouth turn up. “With pick up lines like that, how could I possibly resist?”

Even smiled even more and they exchanged numbers.

~

When Isak arrived at the flat, he called out, “Jonas! You owe Magnus 50 kroner!”

[siliconwebx]

9+ Collections of App Icons That Users Will Never Forget

One of the most fun and the most frustrating parts of app design is creating mock-ups and prototypes. You have so much freedom to flex your creative muscles. The problem, however, is making sure that your mock-ups and prototypes aren’t just functional, but that they give a real feeling of what the finished product will be. They will never be quite perfect, but if you find the right app icons, you can go from a good enough, embellished wireframe to an app someone might want on their phone then and there.

We want to show you some of the best collections we’ve been able to find for these kinds of app icons. These should take your next project (and maybe even your current one) to the next level and make it so that your users can’t get over how great it looks.

1. Icons8

Icons8 is one of the most complete repositories of app icons out there. Not only do you get a downright wonderful selection of wireframe-ready icons, but they also offer a staggering amount of color icons that match almost every style standard there is. From the iOS/iPhone ones you see in the screencap above, to color icons, Windows Metro-style, material design, Android icons for different versions, and a lot more. You can see the number of expandable categories in the above picture. Also, they’re free, which makes them even better, if you ask us.

That said, let’s look at some of the coolest app icons they have to give you a taste of what you can get from Icons8, and then you can poke around even deeper on your own.

Doodle

Hand-drawn design is super hot right now, and whether that’s with fonts or icons or other kinds of design elements, people notice it when you make something that’s purposefully stylized. The Doodle collection from Icons8 is absolutely that. Whether your app needs specialized SVGs for each social network or web platform (and look at that WordPress icon up there — so cute), or standard navigation buttons or messaging smileys, Icon8’s Doodle app icon collection is one to look at.

Gaming

Icon8’s Gaming icon collection should appeal to nearly every app developer out there. We all want to have the next Candy Crush or Angry Birds, but making sure we pitch the mechanics and UI the right way is imperative. Before any real assets are created, create mock-ups using some of these app icons to see what your investors and team thinks. Game assets can be really expensive, but these free app icons can get you through those initial development stages so that you can see where your game needs tweaking before you spend a lot of design time on concepts that might have to be scrapped. Plus, there’s a non-copyright-infringing kinda-Pokeball, so you have to give them props for that.

2. Iconfinder

Iconfinder has a little bit of everything in their database. You can find app icons, technology icons, Apple-style icons, Android-style, color, black-and-white, outline, gradient…well, you get the picture. Each collection of app icons is licensed a little differently because of being designed by different artists, but many of them are Creative Commons, and as you can see from the image above, even labeled as Free for Commercial Use. Overall, we think you’re going to be pretty happy with anything you download from them.

Super Mono Stickers

Most monotone app icons tend to be similar to one another. If you see one wireframe with gears and shopping carts, you’ve seen a dozen. However, the Super Mono Stickers collection puts just enough oomph and pizzazz on the icons to make them stand out. Specifically by making them look like stickers. The slightly raised effect gives just enough of a 3D look that anyone checking out your mock-up will know which ones are touchable and which ones aren’t. The texture gives it away. In fact, given they’re Creative Commons 3.0 licensed, you could totally use these in your final project, and your users would think the same way. Minimalism works when done well, and these are just half a step above minimal to give your design flair without going overboard.

China’s Social Share Icons

If you’re looking for a new market to get into, let us suggest Chinese social. Social networking is huge, and the market for mobile apps in the country just keeps growing. And growing. And growing. If you’re looking for a way to capitalize on that growth, you really couldn’t do better than the China’s Social Share app icons collection. These are clean and simple, and you can include them in your final designs. Whether you intend to go into the market with your own social or messaging app, or if you just want to make social sharing that much easier and give lots of options, consider including these app icons.

3. Sketch App Sources

We have little doubt that if you’re looking at collections of app icons that you’re already versed in Sketch. If not, though, check it out. You’ll love it. That said, Sketch App Resources is exactly what it sounds like a collection of nearly 4000 free resources that you can use in app design, prototyping, and full products that are ready to go gold. They do offer premium resources, too, so if you can’t find quite what you need in the freebies, you can check there to see what you can stumble upon. Admittedly, everything here isn’t a collection of app icons, but the ones that are are top-notch.

Interaction Gesture Kit

Even though the entire world is used to swipe gestures and interacting with smartphones, your app still (likely) needs a tutorial. Or at least an intro splash to let users know exactly what they can do with your app. These gesture icons are perfect for that. If you need them to click, there’s an icon for that. Need them to swipe up, then down? Combine a couple of these. They’re self-explanatory, using a pretty universal set of motions and interactions.

Isometric Building Blocks

Pixel art is great, and it’s popular, and it makes your app stand out. So enter the Isometric Building Blocks app icons. Well, we say icons, but they are a collection of building blocks (get it?) for you to build your own icons. Each block is a symbol that you can then use to manipulate into whatever icons your app needs. If you’re not sure where to begin with pixel art, we have you covered. And if you’re not into pixel art, that’s okay, too. The blocks are brightly colored and stylized enough that any kids’ app would be a perfect home for these little guys.

Wrapping Up

We have barely scratched the surface on what app icons each of these repositories have in collections. But we’ve pointed out some of our favorites and some of the most useful and unique ones that should pique your interest enough to make a deep dive into these sites and come up for air with a few new ideas and resources for your projects.

Where do you usually get app icons for your mock-ups and final projects?

Article featured image by elenabsl / shutterstock.com

The post 9+ Collections of App Icons That Users Will Never Forget appeared first on Elegant Themes Blog.

😉SiliconWebX | 🌐ElegantThemes

[michaelhouser04]

Highly Palatable Food & Weight Management Issues

 Our society has become pretty comfortable blaming just about anything for their weight management issues. Gluten, dairy, eating too little, even blood types have been suspects over the years. Although a relatively simple concept, admittedly there are a lot of nuances that go into a really successful dieting effort.

Tracking and adjusting your total calorie intake through macronutrient goals with tools like the IIFYM Macro Calculator or an online physique coach is a great place to start. Plenty of bogus excuses float around the Internet any given week.

Through all the bizarre justifications that should just be ignored altogether, one often-underestimated consideration in successful weight management is that of highly palatable foods and how they should fit into the daily intake.

What are Highly Palatable Foods?

By highly palatable foods, I’m referring to foods that you personally really enjoy consuming. Foods like pastries, chips, or comfort foods like pizza. Most often, highly palatable foods are those we not only deeply crave and enjoy but also tend to be very calorically dense. I typically refer to highly palatable foods as “fun” foods with the online clients I work with.

The reason being, it’s not that any one food or food group is “good” or “bad” but simply offer differing proportions of nutrients per calorie that must be taken into account with our current diet and body composition goals.

The IIFYM coaches help their clients understand it. Articles myself and others have written here on IIFYM explain it. And nutritional science continues to teach it. There’s simply no reason to completely restrict any one food for the sake of your physique or health goals (allergies and intolerances aside).

Instead, it is prudent to identify the very highly palatable foods to us personally. Then determine how they should fit into our overall diet goals while allowing us to balance our health & physique goals with pure enjoyment.

Blame Sweet Teeth, not Sweet Treats

  Of all the unfairly blamed culprits for failed weight management, sugar has to be the most widely criticized. One of my most proud works as a fitness author, I have an in-depth article which covers the science behind just why blaming sugar in itself for widespread weight gain is largely-scientifically unfounded.

Checking that article out after this can help explain just why being afraid of sugar isn’t necessary. Along with that, it’s important to identify that these “high sugar” foods apparently causing all the country’s weight gain problems tend to be contributing much more than just added sugar for those who over-consume them on a weekly basis. (“over consume” being the key phrase).

Sugar can not only be part of a balanced diet but also can even serve as a beneficial tool for athletes during prolonged exercises or in need of additional calories to support weight gain goals.

Some of the common culprits contain just as much “non-sugar” carbohydrates and even more notably, calorically dense dietary fat to those consuming them regularly. The big factor is their very low volume in comparison to calorie content. In other words, they don’t take up much space but pack plenty of calories.

Making them very easy to consume in large quantities and easily overshoot intake needs with. It’s not the sugar in them causing you problems, it’s how likely you are to overeat with them, busting up your diet.

 FoodServing SizeCaloriesCarbs (grams)Fat (grams)Snickers Bar442152811Glazed Donut481902111Oreos (4)683205014

 If you’re successfully tracking your daily food intake on a regular basis, having some of your daily carbohydrates from sugar in highly palatable foods isn’t going to derail your physique or health progress. What will cause major issues is completely blowing your daily macro goals with highly palatable foods you love but just aren’t able to enjoy in moderation when dieting.

Flexible to a Fault

Let’s explain this in a different way. As my Don’t Blame Sugar for Wide Spread Weight Gain article explains in full, it’s certainly possible to include some sugar-containing foods into your daily macro goals while still achieving health and body composition improvements.

Sugar can not only be part of a balanced diet but also can even serve as a beneficial tool for athletes during prolonged exercises or in need of additional calories to support weight gain goals. In those cases, highly palatable foods can be especially helpful.

When highly palatable foods do become an issue is when we can’t incorporate them into our diet with moderation. Keep a package of Oreos in the cabinet and fit 1-2 into your diet here and there with leftover macros and progress will still keep on rolling along.

That is, as long as total macros and exercise are both adjusted appropriately from week to week. Keep that same Oreo package in your cabinet but plow through an entire sleeve in a sitting- that same innocent treat quickly derails a diet.

Food Selection by Physique Goal

  This article isn’t to suggest we should completely avoid highly palatable foods and stick with bland meals to prevent overeating. Instead, it’s to suggest we should align our eating habits with our current goals.

If you’re in the offseason focused on muscle growth and performance with a higher calorie intake to work with, then enjoying highly palatable foods will likely be easier while still hitting your intake goals more consistently.

Not to mention, these foods that may be less nutrient dense can still be consumed while easily consuming sufficient fruit, vegetables, whole grains and unsaturated fats with the higher macros you’re assigned.

On the other hand, when it comes time to diet and calories decline (and subsequently hunger levels rise), it may be prudent to buy less and less highly palatable foods. That way, triggers you may always struggle with are largely unavailable in your day-to-day routine. Making it easier to focus on eating geared towards your goals and not dreaming of your next oatmeal pie.

Midnight Snacks

As a personal example, I’m a self-proclaimed donut connoisseur. Mini little calorie bombs, you better believe when I’m not dieting, I’m never afraid to enjoy easily the most highly palatable food on earth. Roughly 200 calories for most original doughnuts and around 10g fat and 20-25g carbs, some of the best macros I spend in my week.

Now when it comes time to mini cut or especially begin contest prep, I almost entirely avoid donuts. One reason being, I want to maximize the use of limited macros to continue supporting general health. The other being, they’re quite calorically dense and take up a lot of macros, with little aid in satiety.

If my self-control ever wanes, I could easily knock back a half-dozen without blinking. It’s simply better to limit such a highly palatable food and make it easier on myself to adhere to my dieting macros.

If we’re the culmination of the five friends we surround ourselves with the most, our diets are the culmination of the food types we consume most as well.

By focusing on more nutrient dense, high volume foods and keeping highly palatable foods to a minimum, dieters can stay fuller for longer, ensure health-promoting nutrients are consumed sufficiently and avoid triggers that may make it much harder to adhere to the plan.

If you have an iron will, this may be irrelevant as you’re able to fit small portions of favorite foods into your lower macros without much difficulty. For the many others not quite as mindful with their macros, limiting those highly palatable, fun foods can be hugely beneficial for dieting success.

Not because energy balance is necessarily different from highly palatable foods versus other foods. Instead, simply because for most, adherence greatly improves as triggers are minimized and healthy, productive habits are cultivated.

Not many people wake up in the middle of the night and search for fruit, vegetables or whole grain bread to snack on. Cookies, cakes and other highly palatable, calorically dense treats on the other hand- they’re fair game! Limiting those can make otherwise tempting situation less likely to be an issue.

Addition by Subtraction

  If we’re the culmination of the five friends we surround ourselves with the most, our diets are the culmination of the food types we consume most as well. I can say from personal experience, along with dozens of conversations I’ve had with other online physique coaches, that dieting phases become much easier once highly palatable, calorie-dense foods are dropped from diets.

By avoiding them, we’re simply able to more easily keep health bases covered, and limit temptation in breaking dietary adherence when the one serving of packaged cookies is looking more appealing as five servings, regardless of remaining macros for the day.

Without pretending to be a psychologist, there’s something to be said about cravings increasing for a food the more often we eat or are around it. Nowadays if I’m in a mini cut or contest prep, I skip pastries nearly completely because the longer I go without them, the less often I am tempted to break my dietary adherence.

Pastries are my culinary kryptonite, so if I want to get through the dieting phase feeling as much like Superman as possible, I’m personally better off sticking to less craving inducing, more filling foods until I’m finished dieting. Then when calories are back up to a good spot I can more easily fit things like doughnuts into my macros.

Let’s Get This Straight

Sugar isn’t the enemy. Highly palatable foods aren’t the enemy. Non-organic foods aren’t the enemy. Our inability to adhere to a consistent diet that allows us to adjust our total daily calorie intake and support our exercise routines with is the enemy.

Continually fine-tuning our nutritional knowledge and areas we can personally tweak in our everyday life makes each phase of our dieting efforts easier to manage. Not to mention less mentally taxing as we continue pursuing the best version of ourselves, inside and out.

 The post Highly Palatable Food & Weight Management Issues appeared first on IIFYM.

from IIFYM Recipes and Articles – IIFYM http://ift.tt/2E7eLug from IIFYM Starter Guide http://ift.tt/2lnPDH3

[itsjaybullme]

10 Cheap and Easy Halloween Costumes for Jacked Guys

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It's Costume Time

Silver Screen Collection / Nancy Moran / Sunset Boulevard / Getty

The time has finally come: the week when you realize that Halloween weekend is upon us, but you've been too busy making gains in the gym to even think about putting effort into a costume. Maybe you've had a few fleeting thoughts—if that—about how you're going to dress up, and maybe your girlfriend has spent the month begging you to dress as the companion to whatever elaborate costume she'll be donning when you inevitably end up at a Halloween gathering.

But you probably didn't listen to your own thoughts or hers, and now it's crunch time and the best costumes are probably long sold out. Besides, if you waited this long to find a costume, we're willing to bet you're not about to splurge on that $600 theatrical-quality Darth Vader getup.

If you're starting to get nervous we'll stop you right there, because all that time in the gym is about to swoop in and save your Halloweekend.

Some of the most badass characters in Hollywood history are just jacked guys wearing reasonably normal clothing and minimal outlandish accessories. You may not literally have the physique that Arnold Schwarzenegger or Dolph Lundgren sported back in the '80s, but you can pull off their characters like no couch potato ever could. That's why we've compiled some of our favorite costume options that you can scrape together with minimal cash, and still look decent enough to be recognizable.

It may be too late for theatrical, but at least you'll have a costume. Because even if you're not the type of guy to roll up to the party dressed as a terrifyingly realistic movie monster, you've got to admit it's fun to get into the spirit. Plus, you don't want to be the only asshole at the bar who showed up as the murderer of all things fun and spooky (yourself sans costume).

(And if you need that emergency shred? We've got the workout for you.)

Click through for some of the cheapest, easiest options for your last-minute Halloween costume.

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1. John Matrix/Commando

Sunset Boulevard / Getty

Arnold Schwazenegger has been in plenty of movies, from thrilling action flicks like Terminator and Predator to comedies like Twins and Jingle All the Way. But one of Schwarzenegger's most badass roles was undeniably John Matrix, a former Special Forces colonel out to take down a former dictator to save his daughter. Who could forget the moment when a deadpan Matrix "let Sully go"?

The most important aspect of this costume is also the cheapest: some black body paint for you face and torso. 

Assuming you have:

Pants (preferably camo/cargo pants or khakis—but jeans work, too)

Boots 

Impressive biceps and a generally ripped upper body

A passable Arnold impersonation 

You'll need:

Black body paint (to stripe across your face and body, $5 at Party City) 

Bullet belt (optional, $10 at Party City)

Fake weapon that's very clearly not real (anything from a hunting knife to a rifle could work)

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2. The Incredible Hulk

NBC / Silver Screen Collection / Getty

In his Incredible Hulk days, Lou Ferrigno's physique was nothing short of incredible. After all, he played our favorite green maniac in the late-'70s-early-'80s series, long before CGI could take Dr. Banner from man to monster. So if you've got the physique for it, this one's as easy as can be, although it could get a little messy if you don't get a little help. 

Assuming you have:

Jeans

A flannel (optional)

A hulking physique

You'll need:

Green body paint (maybe two tubes) ($5 each at Party City)

If you really want to go all out, green hairspray ($4 at Party City)

Giant, hilariously fluffy wig (optional)

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3. The Old Spice Guy

Old Spice / Youtube

While Terry Crews may have been the most jacked face of Old Spice ever, Isaiah Mustafa's embodiment is a hilarious throwback that's insanely easy to replicate:

You may not have all (or any) of the skills he boasts in the commercial, but you don't need those. All you do need is a towel, some shorts, and Old Spice to make this one work. Bonus: You'll smell great, no matter where the night takes you.

Assuming you have:

A white towel (clean, please)

Khaki shorts to wear underneath

The chops to impersonate his TV-ready voice

You'll need:

Any Old Spice product, as cheap or expensive as you please (and, hey, you may already have that, too)

Works best at: beach parties.

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4. Rambo

Nancy Moran / Getty

John Rambo is one of those action-movie badasses who seems to transcend time. Even those who have never seen the movie have a very clear idea of the gist of it. Sly Stallone's depiction of a gritty, troubled Vietnam veteran evading law enforcement launched the original film, First Blood, into a franchise. If your friends can't guess this costume at first sight, that's their problem. This one's also super-customizable, since Stallone appeared both in a black, raw-cut muscle tank and shirtless. The important parts? The bandana, the bullet belt, and the absurdly chiseled upper body and/or jawline.

Assuming you have: 

A worn-out, black, clearly DIYed tank top (or a t-shirt you can cut into one)

Jeans 

Ripped shoulders 

You'll need:

Red bandana ($3 at Party City—or, if you cut your own tank top, save some of the fabric and just use that for free)

Fake weapon that's very clearly not real (a hunting knife to a bow and arrow, to a rife could work)

Bullet belt (optional, $10 at Party City)

Some of that $5 body paint (or dirt, if you really want to go cheap) to give the effect of roughing it in the woods

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5. Richard Simmons

Evan Hurd Photography / Getty

This one is admittedly not badass, but it's hilarious and directly related to fitness. Richard Simmons shot to fame for his weight-loss programs back in the day, and he's still at it now. His signature brightly colored tank tops and short-shorts are easy enough to replicate, as long as you never skip legs day. 

Assuming you have:

A workout tank top (preferably a bright one, and preferably one with sparkles)

Quads that you're dying to show off

White sneakers

White crew socks

You'll need:

Short-shorts (whether they're your girlfriend's or something cheap from Amazon Prime)

Huge wig (optional, but adds to the effect; $20 at Party City)

Probably some energy drinks. It's a long night, and you will be expected to embody Richard Simmons.

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6. He-Man

Archive Photos / Getty

Dolph Lundgren, another Hollywood badass who's still keeping up with his fitness today, played He-Man in 1987's Masters of the Universe. We can only imagine all the physique goals that were born that year. Just a little more serious and intimidating than the cartoon version of this comic-book hero, Lundgren's He-Man is ripped out of his mind. If you are, too, show off those quads and that six-pack with this costume. This may be a bare-minimum He-Man, but we don't have time for elaborate equipment, and that's not our fault. Besides, the abs are more impressive anyway. (If you have a set of old football pads lying around that no one's gonna miss, you can easily cut out the shoulders, spray-paint them gold, and tie them together to complete the look. Remember: It's optional, but you have the power.)

Assuming you have: 

An impressive chest and quads

A neutral-colored Speedo, bodybuilding suit, or even some dark-colored briefs (yup, we're really going for it)

A few belts to layer over each other

You'll need:

Blonde wig (will probably run you about $20, but completes the costume)

Fake sword (also important, but only $7 at Party City)

Spartan shin guards ($15 on Amazon)

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7. Lumberjack/The Brawny Man

Blake Little / Getty

More like lumber-jacked, right? This one may actually be the easiest costume ever, and you probably have everything you need already. And this is customizable, because if you don't want to get a fake chainsaw or ax, you can just carry a roll of paper towels around with you (which, given most of the Halloween parties we've been to, may not be a bad idea). Boom: You're instantly the Brawny Man instead of a plain ol' lumberjack. 

Assuming you have:

Jeans

A flannel

A knit beanie

Gargantuan lumberjack-esque arms 

You'll need:

Fake ax for lumberjack ($4 at Party City). If you're into scary costumes, a fake bloody chainsaw (like this $17 option from Party City) transforms you into a murderous lumberjack.

Paper towels for Brawny Man (free from your kitchen, probably)

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8. John McClane from Die Hard

Archive Photos / Getty

Die Hard may just be one of the best Christmas movies of all time (because it's totally a Christmas movie in our book, despite the absence of the Grinch or much holiday cheer). In the original, Bruce Willis takes on a slew of bad guys as NYPD cop John McClane, who has to take matters into his own hands to save his wife, one of their hostages. This is another one that you've probably got most of the supplies for. Yippee ki-yay, motherf*cker!

Assuming you have: 

A white tank top you're willing to rub dirt on

A button-down (ideally one you're also willing to rub dirt on)

A formidable five o'clock shadow

Jeans or khakis

A built chest

You'll need:

If you don't want to rub dirt on your face and shirt, some $5 body paint

Some of your girlfriend's lipliner and a butterfly closures for a fake head wound (about $5 from any drug store)

Fake police badge ($4 at Party City)

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9. Tarzan

Mondadori Portfolio / Frank Trapper / Getty / M&F

There have been countless depictions of this jungle hero, but our personal favorite might be former M&F cover starAlexander Skarsgard's. His physique is impressive, and his costume may be the easiest (and most full-coverage, for any of you legs-day skippers).

Assuming you have:

Khakis you are prepared to sacrifice

Shredded abs and a poundable chest

You'll need:

Some $5 body paint to act as fake dirt

A wig (optional—your own messy hair will work just fine)

A loincloth (if you want to really go for it, $25 at Walmart)

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10. Zeus

Ullstein Bild / Getty

Since Zeus is literally a Greek god, you've got to have the physique to back this one up. If not, you can just tell people you're masquerading as a frat boy at a toga party. This one's pretty straightforward, and can really be tailored to any Greek or Roman deity of your choice, depending on your accessories. Take Poseidon/Neptune, for example: Add a trident, and you're suddenly the king of the ocean. The most important accessories, if the statue we're referencing is any indication, are some killer obliques.

Assuming you have:

A white bedsheet

Flip-flops

Washboard abs

You'll need:

A gray or white fake beard ($5 at Party City)

A trident for Neptune ($5 at Party City)

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from Bodybuilding Feed http://www.muscleandfitness.com/features/edge/10-cheap-and-easy-halloween-costumes-jacked-guys via http://www.rssmix.com/

[strmyweather]

“Look at where we are / Look at where we started / ... That would be enough.”

(This is the fourth and final section of a multi-part post. If you’re interested, you can read about the back story, the tipping point, and the logistics here.)

I posted one of those ‘transformation’ posts on social media yesterday—not because I necessarily wanted to insta-brag (although the pride is real), but more because I needed to define an endpoint for myself. By putting it out there, by showing everyone what I’ve been up to, I gave myself the accountability to STOP, and to intentionally begin the reverse diet. Progress is so slow when you’re seeing it in your own mirror that it’s easy to get stuck in the purgatory of “well, I’ll just stick with it for one more week / until I lose one more pound / just until I get to X benchmark.” We humans are extremely adaptable, meaning we eventually get accustomed to just about anything; even a reflection that we initially feel pretty awesome about eventually becomes ‘the new normal’. It hit me yesterday that I have been in some kind of a caloric deficit for SIX ENTIRE MONTHS. I needed to take a step back, observe the (tremendous) magnitude of what has objectively been accomplished over the past 180 days—and then do the responsible thing and let my body and mind have a rest.

Accomplishments:

 -- Numbers: March 9, 2017: 173 lb (yikes) May 24, 2017: 156 lb at the start of RP Sept 2, 2017: 144 lb (!) for a total loss of 29 lb (which, by the way, is 16.8% of my starting bodyweight—whaaaaaaat?!?)

 -- I lost 3” off my waist, 4” off my hips, and dropped from a 36DD to a 34D (which some women might dislike, but personally, I’m absolutely thrilled).

 -- I am literally lighter than I was when I graduated from high school, yet also have significantly more muscle. The two little ‘folds’ in my mid-back have vanished, and I have defined deltoids for the first time ever. In the right light, I can see on myself why quads are called quads. And I’ve always loved my upper back, but now I’m positively obsessed with it; there are contours and ridges that I’ve never been able to see before.

 -- The biggest practical victory—more so than clothing size or reflection in the mirror—is that I’ve seen major CrossFit progress for the first time in years. I’ve always been a better barbell athlete, comparatively weaker in gymnastics skills; that skill set has now almost been flipped. When I started this journey, I had zero bodyweight pull-ups; now I can do sets of four unbroken strict pull-ups, three kipping chest-to-bar pull-ups, and nine proper toes-to-bar (no monkey swing!). I also got my first-ever handstand push-ups to a single abmat (25# plates, I’m coming for you!), and although I’ve admittedly lost a bit of raw strength, particularly off my squat, I’ve actually ADDED weight to my bench press.  Granted, I’ve been specifically working on these skills; they didn’t ‘just happen’ with weight loss—but physics also dictates that certain movements are just easier at a lighter bodyweight.

 -- Mentally, there is a certain freedom to be found within the RP headspace. You eat what you’re supposed to eat when you’re supposed to eat it, and that’s that. Food becomes ‘fuel’, rather than ‘fun’. One day last week, I was coming down with a cold and realized that (apart from the 8g of fat), a full pint of black cherry Halo Top was almost exactly the right post-workout macros. I decided that would feel really great on my sore throat, and that I’d have it the next morning after the gym. But then, when 8am rolled around, I didn’t have a sore throat anymore, and ended up with my usual Cheerios, egg whites, and salsa—just because that sounded a lot better than ice cream. TL;DR—knowing you CAN have just about anything you want makes it so that you don’t actually NEED anything you may want.

-- Bonus: I also accidentally met my longtime ‘capsule wardrobe’ goal of 100 clothing items, because LITERALLY 60% of my clothes are now too big. :)

This new body is both mesmerizing and, sometimes, a little odd. It’s not my first time being ‘leaner,’ but it IS my first time being this lean as a CrossFit athlete. I’ve never been down this particular road in terms of body composition changes—I literally don’t know how my adult body behaves at this size—and some of what has happened has been unexpected. For instance, I have a few more visible veins than I did before. There’s a new wrinkle in my belly when I’m sitting down. A particular contour of my trunk that I always thought was a fat roll has turned out to be, in actuality, defined by my hip bone (duuuuh—I swear I am a medical provider!). And I come from a long line of apple-shaped women, and as such, STILL do not have visible abs—yet can now clearly see my ribcage, which, in the right light, consistently startles me. And although I can’t SEE my abs, I can FEEL them—as in, when my fingers trace the topography, I can feel the sensitive separations of the six-pack—which is both fascinating and slightly nauseating.

Moving forward:

I’m back in a place where I’m eager to put the scale away and stop focusing on it—because, practically speaking, I really don’t need to care exactly what it says as long as I get to keep all my newfound gymnastics skills. Physically, I’ve definitely felt under-recovered for the past few weeks—not ‘injured’, but just a general sense that I’m pushing the envelope in terms of how much my body can take—and I’ll be happy to feel a bit more ‘consistently strong’. Especially on rest days when my carb intake is slashed, I’ve noticed some unusually low blood pressure (87/63) and resting heart rate (43), which corresponds to feeling a bit shaky and weak. Being back on the base plan will allow me to ‘rest’ for a little while—my weight should theoretically stay stable (after a couple pounds’ expected regain over the next 1-2 weeks), but over the next couple of months, I may still see a very slow positive shift in terms of lean mass to fat mass. In other words, I may find that even just the base plan allows me to get slightly stronger, while hopefully also maintaining the level of leanness and new gymnastics skills I’ve worked so hard to achieve. I’m well aware that I’ve lost a bit of raw strength throughout this prolonged process (it is extremely strange to look at my legs—my favorite body part for 30+ years—and now perceive them as ‘too small’!), and that there is likely to be a squat cycle in my future—and that a massing nutrition plan may well be a part of that (gulp)... but this right here, this 144 pounds, is a really good spot to sit and breathe for the moment.

I was texting with a Philly friend yesterday, and in hearing my own responses to her, I was finally able to put words to the core of why things had been so different this time. With previous nutritional approaches—whether Whole30, keto, intermittent fasting, or what-have-you—I was always just sort of ‘riding’ a plan until it stopped working. I’d see some small changes, and then that would be it. With RP, I’ve been forced to take the time to educate myself on the actual physiology of what I’m doing—because with such a complex plan, that’s just necessary, both for psychological reassurance as well as to understand how to make logical adaptations on the fly when circumstances call for it—and that broader understanding is precisely what now reassures me that just because this rewarding ‘phase’ is now over, that that is not the same thing as declaring that all POTENTIAL for progress is now gone. The same rules still apply. The intrinsic makeup of carbs and fat and protein isn’t changing. The same framework still holds true—will always still hold true—as far as how to manipulate them in order to see results. It’s simple math. More importantly, it’s science. This distinction between ‘progress’ and ‘potential’ is not a concept I’ve ever been able to see before.

Transitions are always scary, especially when they involve the end of a phase that’s yielded so many visible benefits. But there’s also a profound reassurance in knowing that this new knowledge will be there whenever I need it. This was merely one season of a lifelong cyclic journey. Pausing is not a ‘weakness’, and it also isn’t the same thing as declaring myself content to not ever progress any further. Resting, and maintaining, are in fact necessary parts of ultimately continuing to move forward with my goals.

And, practically speaking, hanging out at maintenance for a couple of months is going to be really nice. The RP base plan actually encourages 2-3 cheats per week—the prescribed numbers already account for that—and I am really looking forward to having a social life again. :) I also remember how wonderfully I was sleeping back at the beginning, when I first added the casein protein shake to my bedtime routine, and I’m hoping to recapture that. And certain packaged foods that have been languishing in the cabinet for the past few weeks (like RX bars and single-serving packets of nuts—because they haven’t been the right ‘ratio’ to be included in the most recent menu), can now be reintroduced, which will make certain aspects of meal prep easier, especially on workdays.

At this moment, sitting at my kitchen table, it feels extremely odd to NOT be hungry. Today is the first day of incrementally (slowly!) increasing the amount of fat I’m eating (this is how the reverse-diet works, to slowly bring the metabolism back up to speed over a period of weeks), and I’m alternating between fascination, relief, awe, and anxiety. I had creamer in my coffee (!) and two Brazil nuts with my regular “egg whites and veggies” breakfast this morning—two freakin’ Brazil nuts—and a whole three hours later, I am just starting to feel a little bit hungry. For the past few weeks (in the second phase of the cut, with minimal fat intake at all), the grace period without hunger has been more like 45 minutes. When I take a moment to truly think about it, it deeply amazes me, this symphony of quiet chemical processes constantly taking place in our bodies. On a molecular level, we are pretty incredible physical creations.

I’m a bit concerned about my ability to continue to slowly increase my intake in a controlled way, because I’m about to be plunged into a thoroughly uncontrolled environment—I leave on Friday to spend 17 days (!) in a language immersion program in Costa Rica. I’m obviously tremendously excited about this, but it does compound the nutritional anxiety just a bit! The Central American diet is notoriously carb-heavy—rice, beans, plantains, fruit juices, and so forth—and I’m going to be staying with host families, so I’m not going to have a ton of control over what I’m served. I’m just packing a bunch of nonperishable protein sources and crossing my fingers. At any rate, I’m definitely glad I stopped now, and didn’t carry the cut right up to the last minute before departure.

Once I’m back, general goals for the next couple of months are:  -- maintain the RP base plan—six ‘meals’ a day, including the two shakes,  -- loosely maintain weight somewhere in the 140s—right now this seems to be the sweet spot for performance—but keep the scale out of sight for the most part,  -- continue to work on ‘pulling’ and ‘pushing’ strength in the gym—short-term goals include confident ‘RXed’ handstand push-ups (meaning, with 25# plates) and consistent sets of 10 toes-to-bar, and  -- definitely pound some shrimp chilaquiles from Gonza at the first available opportunity. ;)

This post has used a lot of ‘words’ to explain something pretty straightforward, which is that the biggest takeaway from this whole process hasn’t been pounds or inches or even reps. Plain and simple, it’s empowerment. I haven’t been ‘dieting’; I’ve been eating for a purpose, working toward specific performance goals. And it feels pretty incredible to be on the back side of such a major journey and to have the sense that the potential is still limitless—to know that whatever my future fitness and body composition goals may be, that I will always possess the tools to wreak this kind of transformation if I so choose.

“We are all sculptors and painters, and our material is our own flesh and blood and bones.” –Henry David Thoreau