#fun fact the reason this image is so crunchy is because i. while trying to crop it. made it like 700x500 pixels

[purpleleafsyt]

The Night Sky's Dance

[mythicamagic]

Sukuna's Roommate (Sukuna x Reader) Chapter Four

Summary: The rent is cheap, that's the only reason you're moving into apartment 167 on such short notice. The rent is cheap, you remind yourself again, staring up at the four-armed monster you would be living with. (Female reader x Sukuna)

Warnings: some dubcon moments and general Sukuna stuff i.e: murder. Will eventually feature smut.

Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three

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~Chapter Four~

Groggily moving about the kitchen that brutally bright morning, I was too tired to even check my surroundings as skittishly as I had last night. Sleep-deprived and hungry, my brain soaked up the smell of eggs and bacon (food I'd bought special this very morning because I still wasn't brave enough to open Sukuna's damn fridge.) A distant part of my mind played Sukuna’s words on repeat in the background like a forgotten radio. 

We hadn’t parted immediately after his midnight snack. In fact, my roommate had gone on to say something unprecedented. 

‘I’ll half your share of the rent,” he’d muttered. 

The offer was so strange and out of nowhere, it took a moment for me to comprehend him, let alone try formulating a response. It was music to my ears. Too good to be true. Sukuna cut in before I could so much as open my mouth, lounging with a signature air of arrogance.

“If…”

“If what?” I croaked, wetting my lips. I suddenly became uncomfortably aware of how desperate I’d sounded and straightened my back. “I’m not about to jump through hoops to make you happy if that's what you're after.”

“You’re fortunate this isn’t 1,000 years ago or I’d have you do just that- limbless, on hot coals.” Sukuna examined his claws like a contented cat admiring his latest kill. “I’m just offering a little incentive. I half the rent- if you’re a good pet.”

“I’m not really…into pet play.”

He made a noise in between a chuckle and outright laugh- surprising me. It sounded spirited, almost manic. 

"Duly noted, but no. I'll let you figure out how to be a good pet to me. More fun that way." 

"Fun for you, sure." 

He gave me a patronizing smile, and I could almost feel the condescending pat on my head within his smug words. "Only my pleasure and displeasure matter here. You'd do well to remember that,” he said matter-of-factly. 

The harsh sizzle of eggs burning on the pan brought be back to the present. Quickly diving for the stove, I grumbled to myself, waving smoke aside. Sukuna was right though. He held all the cards. My pride wouldn’t allow me to debase myself but pride didn’t pay the bills. 

‘How exactly would I be a ‘good pet’ to him?’ I winced. Did he want something sexual or was he metaphorically fucking with me rather than wanting to physically?

My mind helpfully conjured up the image of his stomach mouth while I sat down to eat my charred breakfast. While munching on crunchy eggs, I pictured those large teeth and that long sinuous tongue swiping out to lick his lips indulgantly. 

Sukuna strode into the kitchen just as I was imagining that tongue buried between my-

“Good morning!” I blurted.

He and I stared at one another, equally taken aback. Sukuna recovered quickly though, grinning at me toothily. He wore clothes for once. A loose jacket barely hanging onto his broad shoulders- lower arms poking out of his stretched tank top. His black pants were comfortably snug. Very…form fitting. 

“Not a bad greeting. I could get used to that level of enthusiasm, even if it could use a little more bowing and simpering. Did you miss my face that much?” Sukuna chuckled to himself, opening the fridge. One of his smaller eyes slanted to my plate. 

“Guess I’ll stick with Urame’s cooking," he sighed. 

Heat rushed to my face. “I’m not here to be your live-in maid.”

Sukuna straightened to his full impressive height, closing the fridge as if its contents displeased him. 

“You’ve failed to state exactly why you’re here, in this part of town.”

“I-I’m taking some classes. Getting back into my studies after I dropped out of college last year,” I winced.

Sukuna hummed, a few hands running through his bedhead. I tried not to stare. 

“Did you lack discipline, pet?" all four of his eyes smiled. "I can give that to you.”

Quickly standing, I trudged over to the sink, washing my dish with brisk movements. “Oh shut up.” I didn't want to be in his presence longer than strictly necessary. 

“Do your best~” he purred. “If you do well, maybe I’ll even reward you nicely. Try extra hard to impress me.”

The sound of boots heavily clunking over floorboards caught my ear. I whipped around to find him near the door. 

“Where are you going?!”

“Out,” he shot me a perplexed frown. “Are you going to start nagging that I need to be home by 7? That’s precious but I’m not on the market for a wife right now.”

“Wha- no! I was referring to-” I gestured to his extra set of arms. “People will faint in the street if they see you walking around like that.”

“Thank you.”

'It wasn’t a compliment.'

Sukuna sighed, cutting his eyes to the ceiling. Somehow being eye-rolled by four eyes instead of two felt extra insulting. 

Suddenly the lower set of arms raised- before retracting inside his body as if he'd simply tucked them away. His skin accepted the limbs flawlessly, with ease. The macabre sight and sounds of flesh merging and bones popping almost made me lose my burned breakfast. 

“Better?” Sukuna drawled flatly, gesturing to himself. 

'No.' 

He looked like a semi-regular guy now. Even his lower eyes had closed, lashes looking smooth like his other tattoos. 

I swallowed, feeling a twist in my confused stomach as I looked him over. I was starting to think only Sukuna could make me feel so disgusted one minute and then the next… 

“I’ve been generously pretending not to notice this for a while now-" Sukuna was standing before me now. As if he'd appeared closer between one moment and the next. "- But I can feel your gaze, woman.”

Shit. Had I been too obvious? “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I quickly turned to face him, finding myself trapped between his large mass and the kitchen sink. 

“Heh, I recognise fascination when I see it," his teasing baritone lowered in time with his face inching closer to mine. I turned my cheek, startled. Hot breath fanned over my ear. The sensation of teeth unmistakably dragged over the delicate skin, sending a jolt of electricity straight down to my core. “Principles only hold a human back." 

Clawed hands gripped the counter on either side of me. I felt a shudder physically run through me. 

Summoning all my nerve, a boldly placed a hand on his chest, using some amount of force to try and push him away. He didn't budge, but my intentions were made clear. 

"Yeah well, I know a little about excess indulgence too," my hand shook. He felt so blisteringly warm, even though the material of his tank top. Power. It thrummed so keenly through him it was taking everything inside me to meet his gaze. "Trust me, even if I were interested, which I'm not- I wouldn't go anywhere near you. This is a platonic living situation."

I surprised even myself with the strength in my words. Guess all that past drinking and partying combined with the shame and loneliness my DUI had brought instilled some sense of conviction. 

Sukuna's entire frame sagged with the force of his sigh. I felt claws flick my forehead. 

"Bad girl."

I growled, holding my throbbing head. "I'm not lying, damn it. Besides the most you'd give me is a few minutes of a good time-" 

A hand grabbed my arm before I knew it. I was tugged roughly downwards, and forced to bend over. Sukuna lifted his top, exposing the large nightmarish mouth splitting wide open on his stomach. I screamed, my limb shoved inside its gaping maw. Wet heat enveloped my right arm from hand to upper elbow. Monsterous lips and teeth closed almost all the way down, trapping me. 

I choked on terrified cries, bracing myself against him and trying to calm down. His tongue nudged against my hand inside, licking in between frozen fingers. It was the most bizarre and frightening position I'd ever found myself in. 

"Now that I have you here, pay close attention to my mercy," Sukuna uttered from above. I felt a heavy palm land on the crown of my head, stroking slowly. “If you notice, I’m holding you nicely in my mouth despite the tempting urge to bite down.”

“Please-” I whimpered, eyes wide. I was past my brave facade. I’d wager having your arm stuck in a vice awaiting the pressure of teeth closing down like a brutal guillotine would reduce anyone to a shaken mess.

“So it stands to reason,” Sukuna continued, clawed thumb dipping into my hair to caress the shell of my ear. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. “My control in bed would be just as good, wouldn’t you agree?”

“T-thats what this is about? Because I said you wouldn’t last? Are you insane?!”

He didn’t reply but the pressure above and below my arm increased. 

“Okay, okay!” I yelped, trying not to freak the fuck out and do something else I'd regret. If I pulled now, I’d likely lose a good chunk of skin in the process. “I’m sorry! I’m sure your vigour, libido and sex prowess are amazing! Now let go!”

“Don’t mistake me. Only the insecure would fret about that,” Sukuna snorted, smoothing his hand down to take me by the chin, angling it so that my head dipped back. His image was blurry in my tear-filled vision. “This was just a reminder to mind your words~ a spirited woman is highly appreciated in this dull place, but brainless ones quickly lose their appeal.”

I stiffened as that deadly hand wrapped intimately around my neck. No pressure closed down, yet I felt his thumb resting over my pulse, feeling its rapid thrum. 

Thin lips curved up at the edges. His face morphed into one of quiet intensity. “Know your place.”

I stared, loathing the way my thighs trembled and pressed together. I swallowed, knowing he felt it. How I wish I could’ve said something smart and biting in return. However, there was nothing to be done but nod. 

His touch disappeared. Blessed air touched my soaked arm once more. Quickly straightening, I hugged my saliva-coated arm on instinct, glaring at the monster shakily. 

Sukuna tipped his head to one side, giving me an assessing look. A wrinkle furrowed his brow briefly, and I thought he was displeased by something- until it passed. Fixing his clothes, Sukuna strolled to the door. “Don’t wait up tonight, I’ll be out for some time.”

“A-as if I would,” I hissed, in a more muted voice than I’d like. 

The smirk he shot me over his shoulder as he left was full of amusement, not bothered or concerned in the least about having nearly severed my limb. 

Tearing my eyes away, I dashed to the bathroom. Salty tears finally ran down my cheeks as I bowed before the mirror, clutching my dewy arm like a lifeline. I cried, sobbing openly and not caring if he heard. 

It was there, again. I’d hoped it would go away- that I’d be done with this shit. 

Because under everything, the shame, the loneliness and repentance I'd experienced after being disowned by my parents and gradually ostracised from friends- a very real part of me had revelled in the excess of partying, the high. That pure, raw indulgence of drinking and fucking freely. I’d enjoyed it so much that I’d let go of the wheel while submerged in the sleepy bliss of being completely hammered one night. I’d felt the car drive along the road, my heart soaring at the risk, freedom, the lack of control. 

And I’d experienced that again, just now- within Sukuna’s cruel grip.

Chapter Five - here

[audible-smiles]

Portland Burger Week!

4 veggie burgers (which were created specifically for a local annual food festival and which will never be seen anywhere else) REVIEWED for no particular reason

(All of these were $6, + sides/drinks; that’s part of what makes it fun!)

First up: New Seasons with ‘Slaw, Spice, and Everything Nice’

Promo Image:

Promo Description:

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My review:

New Seasons apparently has some really great lunch options; who knew??? Their veggie alternative was a Beyond patty, and I actually didn’t hate it! It still had that heavy meaty aftertaste that makes me want to brush my teeth (mammals taste bad, I stand by that) but whoever put this burger together is good enough with balancing flavor and texture that actually eating it was a great experience. They were liberal with that tangy, spicy sauce, so it was moist throughout and topped with a unique, crunchy slaw (kale, red bell pepper, corn, red onions, etc?) as well as one of my favorite cheeses. Overall, just a really well executed concept, and possibly my favorite burger of the day, right out of the gate at our first stop!

Next up, the West Coast Grocery Company with the ‘Beer Cheese Pretzel Burger’

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My review: This one was also a Beyond patty, and unfortunately they did not succeed at making it taste good. The burger was bland and generic, with the beer cheese and the pretzel bun much less flavorful than I hoped. They didn’t have a veggie alternative for the bacon, so they just left it off, which is rough because this burger needed all the advantages it could get. However, the place was packed, with a line out the door. They had sold out of so much alcohol (homemade and otherwise) that they ended up serving my roommate a mystery cider, the name and origins of which the server couldn’t remember. There was a guy outside with a parrot on his shoulder. It seems like they took on more than they could handle with Burger Week, but the place had charisma for sure.

Interlude: a trip to the Mad Greek Deli. Their promo claimed to have a veggie alternative available, but the enormous man at the counter dismissed the idea out of hand, so I watched my roommate chow down on a meat burger while I drank a can of Mug root beer that cost $3.22. Fun fact: this place’s house sauce is called “Omega Sauce”, which is terrible.

Next Up: Next Level Burger with the “Beyond Cluckin’ Good” Burger

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My Review: Can you truly call something a burger if it features not fake beef, but instead fake chicken and fake pork, and neither in patty form? I thought the...Beyond Chicken... (sigh) was thick and dense enough to make for an unpleasant chew, but my roommate declared it “better than most real chicken” (which made me profoundly sad for the state of chicken in this country). I actually really liked the tempeh bacon, which was smokey and lightly crisp, and of course chipotle mayo is an easy crowdpleaser. Vegan cheese is always risky, but this one wasn’t offensive. And we also had a really good coconut milk blackberry shake as well. A solid effort for sure. I’ll be back someday to try their housemade black bean burgers with avocados, which look amazing.

Last Up: Sunny’s Diner with the Flaming Hot Vegan Bumb (Big Ugly Messy Burger)

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My Review: Hey, turns out pickled onions are pretty good, actually?? I don’t seek them out on a regular basis, but they were freaking great on this burger. I didn’t get any “flaming hot cheeto” flavor whatsoever, which was sad because I was excited about how crazy it sounded, but it was still good. VeganCredible is a local food distributer, and their patty was noticeably better than the Beyond patties for the lack of that meaty aftertaste, but damn do I miss a classic veggie burger with visible chunks of beans, grain, and veggies. Real cheese wouldn’t have hurt either. But I get the appeal of a totally vegan burger...for vegans.

Postscript: There were 5-6 other places on the official list offering veggie burgers, but we decided to go home (after a brief stop at Boke Bowl for my roommate to pick up the Boke Vaxed Burger and take it home to eat later) BEFORE we died, rather than afterwards. 

[amuseoffyre]

Britpicking Index

Some useful compare/contrasts for non-British people writing characters in Britain :) (Also, vice versa, because me and my editor have had some run ins over things I didn’t realise had different names in the US). Feel free to add more if you think of them. These are the main ones I’ve encountered and seen discussed in various forums.

Apartment

Flat. We occasionally use apartment now, purely because Americanisms have slipped into the lingo, but mostly, we call them flats.

Bangs

Have never understood why they’re called bangs. We call them fringes.

Bathroom (Going to the…)

Nipping to the loo, having a slash, nipping to the little girl/boy’s room.

Candy

Sweets. Just generally sweets of any kind.

  Chips

Crisps. Because they’re crisp, I suppose?

On a related note, chips over here are the great big chunky potato fries. The little skinny ones (ie. Like McDonalds or Burger King’s) are French fries, but generally, people will still call them chips.

  Cookie/Biscuit

Honestly, this one is… all over the place because US biscuits sound like savoury scone-type things but are very much not savoury scones because they’re served with gravy. Or apparently with jam/honey/other stuff.

Meanwhile UK biscuits are generally small, crunchy and sweet. But I have been reliably informed that a biscuit =/= cookie. However, some things that UK manufacturers call cookies are – in fact – biscuits. Do not trust cookies that crunch and hurt your teeth.

Fannypack

Um. So fanny is a certain area of genitalia over here. Just... worth knowing. We also call them “bumbags”.

Faucet

Tap. Also, we have separate taps for hot and cold in older buildings. Because Chaotic Evil :)

Freeway

Motorway. (More road/traffic information at the bottom)

Garbage/Trash

Rubbish. Bins are the general receptacles for it. 

Gas (Gasoline) and Gas Stations

Petrol and petrol stations. Same stuff, a lot more expensive from what I’ve seen of pricing per gallong versus per litre.

Grill (For cooking)

This one tripped me up very hard in one of my short stories. My US editor and I were as confused as each other when we described them to one another.

We do have grill pans here (ie. The pans with the ridged bottom) and we do the outdoor grilling thing over a flame as well, but generally in the UK, if we say ‘grill’ we are talking about the oven broiler.

Outdoor grilling is just called barbecue unless on a large/professional scale, when it miraculous turns into a grill. The George Foreman grill is also a thing, but I haven’t seen them show up in fic all that often.

Jelly

Jelly = jam, ie. the spreading stuff for sandwiches and things. Jello, on the other hand, is called jelly.

  Jumper

Not a dress. These are generally the knitted kind of pullovers/sweaters. Christmas jumpers are definitely a thing.

Lemonade

It’s a trap. It can refer to a) freshly squeezed lemon juice, b) fizzy lemon juice or c) lemon-ish-flavoured-ish fizzy drinks like 7Up and Sprite. And to add to the trap, it varies in every shop and restaurant. Good luck!

Line/Lining up.

Queue/queuing. Also getting in line.

  Movies (Going to)

Going to the cinema or going to the pictures.

  Pancakes

Yes, I hark back to The Discourse of crepes versus pancakes. UK pancakes were not like US pancakes in my tothood. They were thin, rolled-up things that were more like crepes. However, Scotch pancakes (or drop scones – no idea. Not a frigging scone) are like chibi US pancakes, thick and fluffy. Ingredients vary across the board. I’ve seen recipes including butter and soda and everything. The most basic recipe is pretty much eggs, flour, milk.

 Pants

This is a big one that shows up an awful lot. The word pants in Britain tends to describe underwear of some variety, so you can imagine that this gives a very different mental image of a scene if someone is wearing tight pants in a fancy restaurant.  Pants can be anything from tighty-whities to full-blown granny pants.

Generally pants get called trousers over here. We have the usual varieties of jeans and leggings and things, but generally, full-length leg coverings? Trousers.

Pie

Generally, a pie is savoury, unless specified otherwise.

Pumps

Technically, some shops do refer to them as pumps, but most people I’ve encountered in my 30+ years of living here just call them shoes and define by other means (ie. ballet flats, beach shoes etc)

(Also, fun fact, pump is frequently used as slang for a fart. So someone putting on a pair of pumps...)

Refrigerator

Just fridge, usually.

Roommate

Unless you are literally sharing a room with them, they’re a flatmate. Also, UK universities don’t generally do shared dorms. Everyone gets their own private room, though not everyone gets their own private bathroom.

Sidewalk

Pavement or footpath depending on how rural said walkway is. (More road/traffic information at the bottom)

Shopping Cart

Trolley. If it doesn’t have one wonky wheel, you are Blessed.

Sneakers

Generally, trainers. This can cover any kind of laced-up shoe that is used for sport or is kind of casual and flat, although we also differentiate between Converse, tennis shoes and such as well.

Plimsols are those lace-less slip-on canvas shoes used by kids for indoor sports. They are awful and smell like rubber.

Soda

I can’t give a fixed answer for this one. There are some areas that call all fizzy drinks “pop” while there are other regions which call all soft drinks/fruit drinks “juice”.

 Store

Shop. Superstores, on the other hand, are supermarkets. On a related note, going grocery shopping is generally just known as “doing the shopping” or - more northerly - “getting the messages”.

Street cars/Trollies

Trams. This was a matter of great and heated argument back in the day. Fortunately, there aren’t all that many in the UK, so unless you’re writing in specific parts of the country, it shouldn’t be an issue.

Suspenders

Braces. Because using the word suspenders over here is generally referring to the stockings-and-suspenders variety, with strong hints of lingerie involved. Kind of a nudge-nudge, wink-wink, wahey! kind of thing. Because sometimes, we never grow past the Carry On films.

Trunk (of a car)

The car boot or just ‘the boot’. Similarly, the hood of the car is called the bonnet.

TV

Called either TV or telly. Daft little thing, but putting the telly on reminds me of home :)

Washcloths

Flannels or facecloths.

Some minor oddities that may be useful:

Eggs

We don’t refrigerate them. We don’t have to. Some people keep them in a special shelf of the fridge, but generally it’s not necessary.

Laundry

In British houses, washing machines are generally in the kitchen. Don’t know why, given that Europe tends to have them in bathrooms or laundry rooms. (Useful to know, we don’t call the baskets laundry baskets/hampers. They’re generally just referred to as “the washing”)

Also, a lot of houses don’t have tumble driers. Outdoor drying is still quite common (weather permitting) on lines strung for the purpose between poles or on a whirligig contraption in the back garden. In Scotland, blocks of flats often have a shared “drying green” which does exactly what it says on the tin. Except, because it’s Scotland, I believe they named it ironically.

If you don’t have a tumble drier and the weather Gods are displeased, then we resort to the good old-fashioned airer, a murderous contraption of metal rods (usually coated in white plastic) that unfolds (and bites the unsuspecting finger when it collapses for no good reason).

Recycling

Oh. good. god. In the name of trying to make us save the planet, we have bins for everything. In my area, we have a regular bin, a recycling bin, a garden waste bin, a composting bin and a glass-recycling box. I know places that have more. I know places that have less.

They’re usually on weekly rotations and it’s an absolute nightmare trying to a) find space to store them and b) find space to put them out for the rubbish collection. Some areas that are mainly blocks of flats have large communal bins with similar distinctions, but I think pretty much everywhere is burdered with an excess of large plastic bins.

Roads and the Use Thereof

We drive on the left side of the road with the driver’s side on the right of the vehicle. Intersections are called junctions and I think roundabouts are a much more common phenomenon in Britain than in most sensible countries.

We still have the usual road signs and things, although British variations thereof. You can find British traffic signs by any basic search online. Traffic lights are usually just the three colours - red, amber, green - but you do occasionally get ones with extra signals for cyclists and the like.

Cycle lanes are about, but they’re not as common as somewhere like the Netherlands.

Which brings me to crosswalks - we have two common varieties: zebra and pelican. Yeah, we’re eccentric like that.

The pelican crossing is the one where you press the button and wait for the little green man to give you the all-clear to walk. It’s called Pelican because it used to be a semi-acronym - "pedestrian light controlled crossing".

Zebra crossings usually have no buttons. Some of them have striped poles with roung yellow/orange lights at the top, but not as much anymore. These kind of crossings give pedestrians the right of way, although a lot of drivers seem to ignore that rule.

Technically, they do have their names, but most of the time, we just refer to them as “the crossing”. No one really differentiates between pelican and zebra anymore.

School/college/variations.

Generally, we have state schools (government funded, variable on quality) and the independent schools which are the fee-paying ones for people who want to go private. Be aware that public refers to independent schools in some places, but to state schools in others. Children are entitled to education between the ages of 5-18.

For the early school stages, it varies depending on region. Where I am (Scotland), you have 7 years of Primary school (P1-7) and up to 6 years of Secondary school (S1-6).

I get a bit confounded with the English system because it seems to vary a lot depending on region. Primary covers most for the early years, up to age 11, but then you get a cocktail of Lower/Upper, Sixth Form and College for the secondary years depending on which area you’re in.

We don’t use terms like sophomore etc (I honestly thought that was the flag-code thing)

College is generally seen as the stepping stone between school and university. You don’t need to go to college in order to go to university in a lot of areas, but in some regions, your final year of school is done at college. It’s all a bit confusing.

University is where you go if you want to study a degree. Again, the courses vary by length depending on subject. A standard bachelor degree is 3 years in most places (except for stuff like medicine and architecture). Masters are an additional year (or two) on top of the Bachelor. Anything beyond that is variable depending on both university and course. We call the unis for short.

Swearing

Depending on region, the strength and frequency of profanities varies. For example, I’m in Scotland and one of the ladies I work with has used the c-word as a verb. Someone was playing the fool and she described them as “c*nting about”. My boss was usually ill if she didn’t drop f-bombs 8+ times a day and usually while laughing. It’s rare not to hear someone on the bus swearing on a daily basis as well.

Going back to the previously mentioned fannies, please enjoy an infamously Scottish advert:

So swearing. Yes. Variable. Definitely something to be aware of.

[derangedhyena-zoids]

the Zoids Discord is a bad influence and has prompted me thusly to write some fun Gross Organoid Facts because, well. part and parcel of designing a weird creature that actually ‘functions’ I guess. and it's fun because I'm dead inside and easily entertained.

The post is about Organoid internals and gets a smidge nasty, you're warned!

You remember how I mentioned previously that modern Zoids don't have any way to expel metabolic waste and they just have to be, essentially, mucked on occasion? (not super frequently, just akin to car maintenance?)

The reason it's not frequent is because Zoids are very metabolically efficient. Unsurprisingly, Organoids - being small, differently-evolved Zoids - are the same way. And since a lot of what the "domestic" Organoids feed on is pure energy and liquid, they don't really produce much waste.

so yhea. Organoids don't really shit. Not in the way one'd think, anyways.

What waste they do produce they'd generally eliminate while bathing, since Organoids are generally picky, fastidious about their own maintenance, and don't like a mess.

Like with Zoids, it’s more of a reptilian-urate type of filtered-semi-solid substance, not a fecal one. 

Now, wild Organoids ate Zoid muscle, Zoid cores and small Zoids on the regular. There were obviously more waste byproducts involved in that, much moreso for if they ate whole small Zoids. (Cores are are striated into various functional layers of viscera, but to something eating that it's all just various densities of pudding once you get past the crunchy crystalline outer layer.)

(The outer layer provides support and structure, and if it's broken the "insides" will slowly ooze out. if the damage isn't too severe Zoids can "scab" and heal, but if too much integrity is lost the whole Core will just fall apart.)

Organoids are a bit like owls eating-wise. They swallow things whole or in indiscriminate chunks - their teeth are for grabbing and tearing, not chewing anything. 

Organoids have no crop but do have the equivalent of a gizzard. Except it's lined with, essentially, hundreds of serrated teeth. They don't have much in the way of an esophagus, the sealed back of their mouth just opens straight into gizzard-tooth-pit and that occupies about half of their neck (or more, it can stretch.)

Said gizzard produces strong digestive juices and, combined with the serrated insides, will try to reduce whatever into something the Organoid can use. But they can only really further digest liquids or slurries. When an Organoid eats something with material they can't break down, they regurgitate the remaining waste like owls spit up pellets.  

Way back when Organoids and eventual-Zoidians first came into conflict, you'd better believe that Organoids ate people. But that didn't really become their MO because people were weird. Bones, no Core, some nutritional value but not really the ideal of what Zian organisms thrived on. So they could consume people, sure... but there was a lot of slimy leftovers (bone and tendon fragments, hair, teeth) to cough up and the Organoids didn't really care for this.

So people weren't considered terribly edible and this knowledge was passed on. Organoids have a strong preference for foods they can take full advantage of, obviously. Fusing with Zoids, Zoid cores, Zoid meats - any of their natural foods. They can literally eat and try to eke nutrition out of whatever they can manage to stuff into their mouths, but the less Zian something is, the less likely it's of value to them. Anyways.

There is order to the seeming-mess of cables Organoids have. Unless they're using them to hold someone, they stay in the same general anatomical configuration.

The cables aren't just "metal." They're actually the same material that Zoid muscle (and their own muscle, on the lowest connective level of their carapaces) is made of. It's innervated, flexible, and strong. This is how the layers in an Organoid work, since I’m cool and forgot to draw that on the other image.

Hooray.

[trashyazeohane]

Five shots too many - Adult!Maxvid!AU

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3

The evening before

Summary:  Bad moods and childhood crushes don’t mix well with alcohol

Additional comments: Will contain smut in Part 2 (Top!Max + Bottom!David). Not beta-read.

You can also read it on AO3. Enjoy!

***

Max took another sip of his beer, his tongue not able to even taste a trace of alcohol anymore. He knew it was there, but he stopped sensing it. At this point he wasn’t sure whether it was even good or bad.

But he knew he shouldn’t have ordered another beer. Yet he had done just that. His fingers moved into his wallet to try to find a needed amount of coins, only to stop when a voice next to him spoke up:

“I’ll pay. It’s on me.”

It was David, speaking still with that adorable smile dancing on his lips, even though his gaze couldn’t stay focused at one point.

Max didn’t argue, he didn’t have the power to do so. He allowed for David’s clumsy, trembling hands to take out a bill to pay for his another beer and David’s shot.

Maybe this evening was a mistake. Maybe they should have ended it back when they both (or at least one of them) could think coherently. How long ago it was? Few minutes? Few hours? The time turned into dust. It was often happening whenever he was spending time with David.

But today evening shouldn’t have happened. Max should have cut it short and return to his dorm. He should have done it, because this was what responsible adults do.

Max was far away from the image of an ideal adult. But even though that, he knew he shouldn’t have done it. Yet he did. This small part of his coherently thinking brain was telling him to end it. if he still could control himself. Yet the body and heart was telling him to stay.

So he drank sip after sip. It was helping him bear with the stuffy atmosphere of the bar. It was helping him do something with his fidgeting hands. Hands that wanted to move closer to David.

No, he should control himself.

Yet the fog in his brain was slowly making his walls break down.

So his eyes followed David’s palm as he grabbed the tiny glass and emptied the half of it in one swift movement.

“You know, Max, I’m proud of you. You grew up into a very amazing guy.” David’s words were slurred, some ends were connected with the beginnings of others, however he was still speaking with pure, honest sincerity.

But David was far away from the truth.

“I’m still a shithead, David.” Max quickly added, needing to clear that out. Because it was the truth. Even though it felt nice when David called him otherwise.

And that doofus, of course, started to laugh, with that nice, cheerful laugh that always made Max’s heart jump wildly in his chest. So naturally it also happened now, especially as David swayed heavily first to Max’s side, then forward, only to rest his head on the pillow made from his arms.

The fact that he was now looking at Max with that happy, adorning look wasn’t helping. It was making everything way worse.

Another sip.

“That’s not true. You are kind when you want to be.” David’s eyes were shining, sparkling with dozen of tiny stars.

“You’re delusional and apparently very drunk.”

A chuckle escaped David’s lips, then a sigh, followed by eyes closing slowly. A lone lock of David’s now disarrayed hairs slumped down onto his forehead. Max had an urge to move his palm and softly push the strand out of the way.

This was dangerous.

But gladly before Max could do anything stupid, David opened his eyes, stared at him goofily and then tilted his head a little to move into more comfortable position. A movement which made David’s sweater slip down and show a patch of skin on the neck, together with a bruise.

That awful bruise. A hickey. A splatter of red color. No, not fully red, but intertwined with violet and gray hints.

Max hated it. But he despised more the man who had left it. Max had been surprised that David hadn’t called police on that guy. The only thing he had done was wave his hand and with smaller smile say ‘he has problems, let him be, Max’.

Oh, Max also had problems. One of which was the man who almost had sexually abused David – a pure, innocent David. Max wanted to punch that man, he wanted to see the blood spilling from his nose and mouth, he wanted to see fear, dangerous fear seeping into that man’s eyes.

Yet he knew David would never allow Max to do so. He had too good heart.

However this good heart had been broken a countless times.

David tried to act like he didn’t care. But Max knew better. He had seen as David had reached to his nape, only to freeze for few seconds, eyes staring at some far away point in the distance. David did care, because this was what David always did. Fucking care. Even when someone treated him like garbage.

David didn’t deserve it. And that man deserved a kick to his nuts.

So that’s why Max had proposed going out. Just the two of them, money, free Friday evening and apparently a lot of alcohol.

Max had lost track of number of beers he had drunk. He didn’t even want to think how many shots David had poured into himself. The hungover tomorrow will be deadly. But this was tomorrow Max’s problem. Today Max had more urging matters on his hand. Or mind.

“Maybe a little bit.” David continued the topic, like there wasn’t a huge gap between responses. Or maybe simply his mind finally caught up with the words spoken to him. Judging by the soft fluttering of his eyelids, he was on the edge of passing to the Morpheus’ Dream World.

Max checked the time. Half past midnight. They had had quite quick pace of drinking. No wonder they were already out of this world at this early for Max hour.

Max finished his beer in few quick gulps. You can’t waste alcohol, right? Especially if it was bought with David’s money.

“I’ll take you home, David.”

For a second Max thought that David would argue with him over that as he started to mumble something under his nose. But then David slowly lifted his head from his arms. Getting up from the chair took more work. But when David was more over standing properly, he patted his pockets, muttering under his nose ‘phone’ and ‘wallet’. God damn it, did he have to be so preventive even when drunk?

Max had everything with him too. He felt the light weight of his wallet and heard the metallic clank of his phone hitting the zipper when he zipped his jacket up. He was ready to go in a minute.

They moved slowly to the exit, not gaining any attention from the rest of customers. They were all too drunk to care.

“Thank you. Have a nice night!” Oh, yeah, one barman noticed them getting up from their seats. Now the man was looking at them, in the same time making a drink for some girl that definitely was too young to be here.

And David, that doofus, had to turn around and reply, still with that charming, kind (maybe too high) voice:

“Same to you!”

Max rolled his eyes, grumbled some thanks under his nose and then opened the door for drunk David to stumble out. Because, of course, that clumsy male tripped on the doorway while exiting. Maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising as he was usually accident prone. Add dizziness ruling over his mind and well… Max should expect it.

“Can you be clumsier, David?” Max asked, not trying to sound mean. He moved forward, grabbing the red haired male under arms to steady him, before he would get a mouth full of snow.

“I try not to be, but it doesn’t… doesn’t always work.” David said, lifting his body from the half fallen position. His head swayed heavily to the side as he looked at Max, grinning from ear to ear.

It was the alcohol making Max’s heart speed up. It definitely had to be.

(It wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t the alcohol, but his stupid heart)

Max let go of David’s arms, but kept hands close in case David would want to welcome the cold, snowy ground with his face once again. His own legs weren’t in perfect condition either, but in comparison to the older man Max was an athlete on today evening.

David made three steps on the crunchy, white fluff. Three wobbly steps, before he swayed heavily and leaned on the wall.

Okay, so this was a ‘no’.

“Here, let me help you.” Max mumbled, moving closer. He grabbed David’s one arm to throw it over his own shoulder. Max’s other hand moved to David’s waist, keeping him in more over almost standing position. “You obviously can’t walk alone…”

David giggled. Giggled, of all things he could do he chose to giggle at or maybe to Max.

“See? You’re a nice guy, Max. Helping my drunk a-“ Here he hiccupped, or maybe it was just a blissful coincidence. “…butt return home.”

“Only because I don’t want you to be robbed because you fell asleep behind some dumpster.” This was only a small percent of the whole truth. He simply didn’t want to make David walk home alone when he was in such state.

It’s your fault he’s like that now – added some reasonable part of Max’s brain – you shouldn’t have asked him to go out tonight.

But now it was too late. And the worst part was that Max didn’t regret it. They had fun, they had talked a lot, they had laughed and it had looked like David had managed to forget about his problems. But the shots…

Too many to count.

Step after step they were moving forward. The fact that the road was slippery as shit wasn’t helping them maneuver. David chuckled lightly when they skated a meter or so when Max’s foot found a frozen puddle. The hot breath coming from David’s lips tickled Max’s neck, making all his hairs stand up. His heart jumped high, echoing painfully in his chest.

(David’s body was warm under his palms, taking away the coldness this world was seeping into him)

Somewhere in the middle, or at least at some part of the journey David’s rested his head on Max’s shoulder. And even though the position was awkward and uncomfortable, Max felt good in it. The peace, the soft, maybe a little bit skittish rhythm od David’s breath, The smell of David’s shampoo. The nice glint of light reflected in his red strands. The delicate hums leaving his chapped lips.

God, he wanted for this moment to stay forever. He wanted to preserve it, to close it in some kind of glass box and be able to relive it, over and over in his head later.

And too fast they were in front of David’s apartment. Or at least the building. Passing through the first door was easy – Max knew the code to them, so he put it in. The stairs… well the stairs took definitely more effort.

First few steps were easy, even with David’s uncooperative legs. Few another were more over manageable too. Problems started after the first floor.

Max wasn’t sure what it was – the darkness, the alcohol, or the mind suddenly being clouded – but David simply couldn’t walk up the stairs. And well, of course, that clumsy idiot tried. He tried. He tried hard.

And in this process he was wriggling, brushing against Max’s body, sighing exasperatedly into his ear, tickling the skin with his warm, sizzling breath. His one hand moved to Max’s shirt, clutching it tightly as he focused solely on stepping forward, not caring at all that he almost touched Max’s skin with his own lips.

Max was… Max started to float. Not in the real meaning of this word, but in... just different meaning. He could feel, sense every nerve that was touching David’s squirming body. He could feel the skin touching his own. He could hear his own heart – loud, insane – inside his ears.

Blood rushed to his cheeks.

It was a torture. A torture to his mind, heart and body.

Yeah, definitely to lower part of his body. As blood rushed there too.

However David was probably too drunk to notice.

You like that – whispered something enticingly behind his ear.

Max did. Max loved it.

But finally, finally they reached the correct floor. Max exhaled slowly though his nose as they stepped forward to the familiar door.

David fumbled with his pockets, hand clumsily trying to open one pocket. He did it after a third try, only to take out few keys. At least he picked the right one on the first try.

He tried to put the key in the lock, only to fail miserably once. Then twice, then thrice and… four times.

“Give them to me.” Max growled, without a hint of venom in his voice. He was just tired, drunk and aroused. Spending more time like this near David wasn’t a good combination.

“No, I can do it.” David stubbornly said, sticking out his tongue, closing one eye and trying one more time to put the key in the hole. And yes, failing miserably in the end.

It was frustrating.

“David…”

“I can do it.”

Max sighed. Maybe it was the alcohol taking over David’s brain, making him miss every time.

“I can’t see in the… dark good.” David murmured, stepping in front of the Max.

Max’s palm left the secure place on David’s waist. However it didn’t last long as he had to wrap his hand one more time around David to prevent him from crashing right into his own door.

“Uhm… sorry.” David mumbled, swaying back into Max’s chest. “I got dizzy.”

Max wanted to say that it wasn’t a problem. He desperately wanted to tell it, mean it and forget about it.

But the heat, the warmness of David’s body glued to his own, the leaping rhythm of David’s heart near his own, the hitched breath coming from his mouth-

(Delicious, blissful lips)

Do it…

Do it.

It was intoxicating, it was eating Max from inside, it was making all these walls he had built around himself crumble down.

He wanted it. He wanted it bad. He wanted it desperately. Every night. Every lucid or not dream. Max wanted to have David near, he wanted to taste him, he wanted to make him feel safe.

He wanted David.

No-

Do it!

The words, sentences, voices inside his head mingled. He didn’t know to which voice he should listen, what part of his body was telling the truth, what or who or which something was the most trustworthy in his current situation.

Max glanced down at David, at his neck – exposed due to David wriggling so much that his jacket slipped down. He stared at the pinkish skin, at the auburn strands sticking in weird directions, at the muscles moving passionately with David’s every try.

You want to do it.

Max wanted to do it.

Max needed to do it.

And in this one moment all voices inside his head became quiet. The world grinded to a halt. Everything was still.

David stopped fiddling with his keys when Max kissed his neck.

His body was burning.

Max was still a brat after all.

To be continued

[ievenranthisfar]

A Race With No End: The Sisyphean Nightmare of Big’s Backyard Ultra

It’s 6:13 in the morning. The sun is about to break over the Tennessee countryside. I’ve already run 98.8 miles. And now, I find myself passing the two giant piles of frozen burritos that have been sitting—inexplicably—in the middle of the road all night. This is the twenty-fourth time I’ve passed them. 

I may have to pass them another twenty-four times before this is all over. Or maybe not. I may have to run for another 100 miles. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Because, you see, I’m running in a race that has no finish line. And it’s starting to drive me insane.

This self-inflicted torture began three years earlier when, I stumbled across a race report detailing a crazy little race in the Middle of Nowhere, Tennessee. Its premise was so simple yet so evil: Last man standing wins. 

Big’s Backyard Ultra has no set time or distance. Just a 4.1667-mile loop that each runner has to complete within an hour, over and over and over, until they can’t. Contestants continue running this macabre, Sisyphean loop until ultimately, there’s only one poor soul left. He or she wins. Everyone else DNFs. Like it never even happened.

My mind began to swirl. How far could I run if I had to run forever? Would my body or my mind give up first? What would it be like to be one of the last two people left, stuck in a stumbling, mutually self-destructive duel of wills? Also, just in general, WTF? 

Like some kind of Phillip K. Dick fever dream, this insanity was cooked up by ultrarunning’s resident madman, Lazarus Lake. He’s the evil genius behind the even-more-infamous Barkley Marathons. And after being personally tortured by him for more than a day straight, I can say that he is a true artist. The Leonardo da Vinci of pain. The Rembrandt of mind games. The Lady Gaga of suffering. A master of sadomasochistic craft.

In 2014 the race went for 49 hours. The winning distance, 204.2 miles. Actually, “winning” isn’t really the correct term. Johan Steene and Jeremy Ebel started on Saturday morning. Saturday became Sunday. Sunday became Monday. The two dueled for so long that Johan was in danger of missing his flight back to Sweden. So, with no other option, he was forced to drop. In an ultimate sign of sportsmanship, Jeremy chose to drop as well. So both men ran 204.2 miles, which is an incredible feat. What’s even more incredible is that because of the Last Man Standing rule, they both actually lost. (Laz later told me this detail with a twinkle of pride in his eyes.)

Naturally, I became obsessed with the race.

Fast forward a few years to me, towing the starting line in Lazarus’s backyard. It’s a beautiful, still Saturday in October somewhere in B.F.E., Tennessee.

Three minutes before the start, Laz blows three whistles. “Oh man, you’re gonna love hearing that thang 20 hours from now,” he says with a grin. Two minutes before the start, he blows the whistle twice. “Almost time.” He’s like a seven-year-old boy about to torture a frog. One minute left, one whistle blow. “Get in here so I can draw the corral!” he hollers. Using a can of orange spray paint, he draws a box around us on his crunchy, dead lawn. At the start of every hour, we have to be standing inside this corral to begin the next loop. Unless, of course, we can’t.

The race clock ticks to 00:00:00, and Laz gives his cowbell a hearty shake. We’re off. Forty-seven human beings setting out to test the limits of our bodies and basic common sense. 

Unlucky number 85

For months, I had worried about how best to run this thing. But within one loop, I quickly realize that the most important is a single world: consistency. In a typical 100-miler, it’s a guarantee that you’ll experience rough patches. Your legs will feel like lead. You’ll get overheated. Your stomach will rebel. But you can always sit down, hit pause and sort yourself out. Hey, you have 30 hours to finish this thing. But with Big’s, there’s no forgiveness. You get in a bad place, and you still have to be standing in the corral when Laz rings the cowbell at the next hour. Razor-thin margin of error. 

After I finish each loop, I plop down in my REI chair and rustle through my bags. (Another fun challenge, no aid stations!) I refill my bottles, scarf down some food and attend to issues. But no matter where you’re sitting, you have a front-row seat for the main attraction: the race clock. It’s big and bright and just keeps tick, tick, ticking away. The seconds keep marching mercilessly towards the next hour and the next loop. Yay.

Running ultras has taught me that time is malleable; it can bend and warp. As I run from starting line to finish line, I often get the sensation I’m detached from time, floating along in my own jet stream. This race is the opposite. There’s no starting line and no finish line. No matter what you do, in one hour, you’ll end up right back where you started. It’s like a cruel mash-up of Saw and Groundhog Day. With possibly more grunting.

Pre-race meal planning: 20 pounds of gels, fried chicken, Mountain Dew and half a pie

Personal aid station or refugee camp? Really, both.

My first morning goes relatively well. I’m feeling good and running consistently. There’s a group of four of us in a front pack, choosing to run at a comfortably brisk pace. We run and chat and laugh for hours, and quickly become a weird little band of friends. It’s a solid distraction. But at the same time, somewhere in the back of my mind, I keep hearing the voice remind me, They’re the competition. A seed of Survivor-style paranoia is planted. I try to shake it for the time being.

Morning turns to afternoon. The temperature climbs into the mid-80s. People start to drop. We’re less than 50 miles in, and already more than half the field is gone. Images of WWII flash in my brain for some reason.

At the start/finish/coral, Laz and his cohorts—who are all dressed as prison inmates—crack the same joke, lap after lap. “Way to go! You’re back in first place!” or “Allllright! You were in second, but now you’re tied for first!” “There he is! First place runner right there!” The joke goes on for hours. It seems to get funnier to them each time they repeat it.

But here’s the thing. The more loops I run, the more I realize it’s not a joke. It’s the core truth of this entire race. Because everyone really is in first place until they drop. Whether you finish your loop in 44 minutes or 59 minutes, if you’re still running, you’re still winning. In fact, during the infamous 204.2-mile race, that was exactly the breakdown. Johan ran 44-minute loops consistently for 49 hours, while Jeremy ran right at the edge of cut-off each loop. There is no strategy. My brain starts to death-spiral as I realize that no matter how hard I work, I’ll always be in first place, like everyone else. Time is a flat circle.

Run, rest, repeat

In the evening, the race switches to an out-and-back stretch on 4.1667 miles of paved country road. Twelve hours and 50 miles into the race, there are only ten of us suckers left inside the corral. Surprisingly, this proves to be a nice mental break. While you run the trail, all you want to do is last until the road. Once you’re on the road, all you want to do is last until the trail. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

And while road isn’t nearly as interesting as trail, it does provide a few new novelties. Tonight, the moon is so bright we don’t even need headlamps, so we glide through the Tennessee countryside like tattered, sweaty ghosts.

During our first loop, my newfound friends and I notice two lumpy piles of something sitting in the road near what looks like an abandoned house. We wonder aloud what the piles are, and I say, “They kind of look like a bunch of frozen burritos.” Everyone laughs. It’s preposterous. And I’m sure in the back of their heads, their Survivor voice whispers, Excellent. He’s starting to hallucinate. He’s a goner for sure. On the next loop, as we near the piles I tell them, “I wanna see what those are. I really think they’re frozen burritos.” “Ha, OK,” they laugh again. We drift towards the two piles, flick on our headlamps and HOLY SHIT THEY REALLY ARE A BUNCH OF FROZEN BURRITOS. Seriously. Two huge piles of half-melted, frozen burritos. There must be 100 or so. Just sitting in the road. 

It’s by far the weirdest non-hallucination I’ve ever had during a race. (Weirdest actual hallucination: Obi Wan Kenobi in the middle of Hawaiian jungle.)

A few loops later, the burrito piles are flanked by two hound dogs sleeping in the road. Back at the start/finish, someone mentions the whole situation to Laz, and he conjectures that the owners must be out of town so they left some food out for their dogs. This makes no sense, but it also seems like the only reasonable explanation. Sort of a metaphor for Big’s as a whole.

The night marches on.

In the lull between one of the early evening laps, Laz taunts me, “You might wanna try to get some sleep. You’re gonna wish you had it when it’s this time tomorrow night.” Awesome, I think. So on top of everything else, now I have to try to sleep between each loop?? But, he did have a point. I throw a shirt over my head and try to not exist for a few minutes. It never works. Every time I’m about to doze off, I hear that “TWEEET, TWEEET, TWEEEEEET” of Laz’s three whistles.

The night creeps by, both slowly and quickly. Each loop becomes a sadistic episode of déjà vu. And each time, it becomes that much harder to get out of the chair and into the corral.

By the time dawn breaks over the Tennessee hills, there are just four of us left. Also, two piles of road burritos, mostly uneaten.

Twenty-four hour in and spirits are 👍

One hundred miles and 24 hours in, the Final Four line up for our first lap of the new day: me, Charlie Engle (famous for running across the Sahara, infamous for spending 21 months in prison for mortgage fraud), John Starpes (who’s put in a gritty performance, staying just ahead of  the cut-offs every lap) and Babak Rastgoufard (a quiet dude in glasses with a big ole mop of hair who Laz and Co have enjoyed calling “Babagnoush” all day).

With a twinkle in his eye, Laz reminds us that we’re all in first place. Then he rings that damn cowbell.

How long can this go on?

Lap 25 goes off without a hitch. Lap 26, John falters. He doesn’t make the cut-off. One down. Three still in.

Just one mile into Lap 27, I feel a pain shoot through my left heel. It’s my Achilles tendon. How cosmically ironic, I mumble. My Achilles heel. The sudden reappearance of my chronic injury means my race is over.

However, Charlie is staring to look pretty worked. Against better judgment, I decide I’ll only go back out for another loops if Charlie comes in with two minutes to spare. Pride will be the death of me.

Back at home base, Laz blows his whistle three times. No sign of Charlie. I start to get excited. He blows his whistle twice. No sign of Charlie. Thank God. And then, “There he is!” Charlie bursts out of the woods. Ugh.

I grab my bottle and trudge over to the starting corral. A minute later, the three of us set off again. This is my last loop, I promise myself.

It’s been 112 miles. As I hobble in, I tell my mom (who has been horrified for two days straight) that that is my last loop… “unless Charlie comes in with, like, 30 seconds left.” I cringe as I hear the words coming out of my mouth.

We sit there waiting. Three whistles and no Charlie. Two whistles, no Charlie. One whistle, no Charlie. Then, just like an underdog movie scene, Charlie comes barreling out of the woods. I close my eyes. “Dammit, Charlie.” I think that’s the first time I’ve cussed in front of my mom. 

Charlie crosses the line with 35 seconds left. Resigned to my fate, I shuffle into the starting corral. Now on the ground, Charlie throws up his hands. “No más. I’m done.” “Noooo!” the crowd cries. The cowbell rings. Charlie doesn’t move. It’s just me and Babak now.

As soon as we get out of earshot of the crowd, I turn to him and say, “Hey man, this is gonna be my last loop.” “What?” he’s confused. “Yeah, my leg is hurt really badly. I can’t run on it anymore. You ran a hell of a race. Congrats, man.” “Ah man, I’m sorry…” he commiserates for a second. And then, he looks me in the eyes, “You’re not fucking with me, are you?” “Ha, no. I promise.” “’Cause that’d be kinda messed up,” he double-checks. “I promise, I’m not fucking with you.” I told you, this race messes with your head.

 Even though I’m about to lose, it feels like a victory lap. I’m going to enjoy it. I say goodbye to all the little landmarks I’ve spent the last day with—the crumbly rock, Kat’s Cave, the edge of the field, the top of the hill. Forty-seven minutes later, we burst out of the woods and into the sun. The crowd cheers.

I stride across the line one last time. 116 miles in 27:48. I immediately bend down and rip the timing tracker off my ankle. “I’m tapping out,” I announce. “NOOOOO,” the crowd erupts in unison. “YOU CAN’T.”  “I have to.” I explain my injury. But they’re having none of it. They came to see a bloodbath.

I sit on the ground in front of Laz. He stares down at me with the tenderness of some sort of hillbilly Santa Claus. “You sure you wanna drop? You still got plenty of time.” He speaks with a mixture of genuine care for me and morbid interest in seeing this spectacle dragged out as long as possible. “Thanks but I’m really done.” “Alright then.”

A few minutes later, Babak is standing alone in the starting coral. We all start chanting his name “Babak! Babak! Babak!” as he takes off on the very last loop of the race, solo. I’m Second-to-Last Man Standing. 

Striding out once more

Tapping out

 Big’s Backyard Ultra asks everything of you as a runner and as a human being. It’s as fascinating and as terrible a race as will ever be dreamed up. Its genius lies in its simplicity. And the more time I spent around Lazarus—trust me, I had about 15 minutes every hour for 28 hours straight—the more I became convinced that he’s some kind of savant.

The world is a better place because of madmen like Lazarus Lake. And I’m a better person for living through his terrible genius firsthand. Because now I’ve run a race with no end.

And also someone gave me a Long Day Lager afterwards

 Epilogue 

Unbeknownst to me, throughout the race, Lazarus composed strange, little updates that he blasted out every loop. Each reads like the beautiful poetry of a sadistic Thoreau. 

if we did this to dogs, they would throw us in jail.

hour 8 just began. 25 runners are praying they can survive 5 more hours and reach the road loops...

here is what they keep saying, as they drop and drop and drop;

if only this was just a 100 miler, and i could take a break. just 5 minutes. that is all i need.

24 runners are alive, out on the trail and the whistles start again in 54 minutes...

laz

   pray for the 18

we had our clean lap. 18 finished hour 11 18 started hour 12...

this is the critical hour. the sun is setting, and it will be dark before they get back.

nobody has more than a minute or two a lap to spare. they cannot slow down. dark or not.

if they finish this hour, there are 12 hours of gravy, before we return to the trail.

pray for the 18. they need it.

laz

  nightmare under the hunters moon

tim dines and gary kaspar. refused to continue.

may god have mercy on your soul.

14 tortured souls started hour 15.

it is one thing to run a 100, and start once. it is another to run a 100, and have to start 24 times...

and you might not even be halfway through.

laz

the final chapter it was the invisible injury that won out. andy's achilles had been gradually deteriorating for many hours. after the two youngsters hammered each other during hour 28, babak pulling away, andy bowed out after the finish (to the dismay of throngs of andy pearson fans) babak is out on the deciding loop....for the first time, he is alone. in somewhere around a half hour, we will know if there is a finisher this year. we already know who it has to be. thanks for listening.

laz

[wizards-need-not-apply]

WNNA Speculates: Guildmaster’s Guide to Ravnica Part 1

For those of you not quite in the know, someone leaked the Table of Contents for WoTC’s upcoming book: Guildmaster’s Guide to Ravnica. You can find an image of it here for your convenience. As a big Magic buff and a big D&D buff, I’ve been largely excited for this upcoming book! With the leaking of this ToC, we can glean a surprising amount of information and what will be and what will not be coming when D&D and MtG collide. I am not a designer for WoTC, and therefore my speculation is exactly that: speculation. However, it’s fun to think about this sort of thing on your own, and that’s why I’m doing it.

In addition to the ToC, I'll provide a less-than official summary of several of the things about Ravnica that make the plane special and unique among planes in Magic. This is split into parts, because I realized after I had started that it was getting too damn big. So expect the other parts to come online later.

Welcome to Ravnica:

The first section of the book is a 3-5 page summary of the plane of Ravnica. In effect, the City of Ravnica is a massive cityscape shaped by the influence of ten Guilds. Bound by a magical, living document known as the Guildpact, the Guilds operated to try and keep Ravnica up and running with minimal interruption of life. Then the Guildpact got broken, a new one was made that no one took seriously, and then the guilds had a minor scuffle trying to dominate one another. Eventually, a contest was made between the Guilds to try and reestablish some semblance of balance: The Dragon’s Maze. In the end, everyone’s favorite Planeswalker, Jace Beleren becomes the new new Guildpact, forming the Living Guildpact and has been ever since.

Life inside the city is a constant struggle, held by a tenebrous peace because of the Guildpact. There is quite a lot of open fighting on the streets, with every single one of the Guilds having some beef with every single other guild in some way, shape, or form. Depending on where you end up though, you may have a better fare of life than others. 

Chapter 1: Character Creation

Now we get into the meat and potatoes of the book. The ToC implies that every single person on Ravnica belongs to a guild, and that is part of creating a Ravnican character. It even goes so far as to suggest classes that the different guilds are associated with. As for how this fits in with the fluff this is... actually pretty much true, since the Guildless of Ravnica barely get any mention at all. Pretty much everyone is part of a guild and it’s not uncommon for members of different Guilds to have love interests with each other.

The Races section seems to be mostly lifted from the Races of Ravnica UA, back in August. There is one notable difference though: The Viashino are completely absent from this release. In their stead, we get Goblins and Minotaurs. Minotaurs have three different flavors to them, one from Waterborne Adventurers UA, one from Planeshift: Amonkhet, and one from the Centaurs and Minotaurs UA. Chances are they will go with the third adaptation, with some minor tweeks. Goblins have no less than five different flavors of them (six if you count hobgoblin), three of which came from Planeshift: Zendikar. This one has no real indication for it’s future, so it could mean literally anything. Goblin lovers, keep your eyes looking towards the future.

Subclasses: 

This is what people were probably most excited for with Guildmaster’s Guide. While we are not getting 10 different subclasses for every single guild like I hoped, we are seeing two strange cases for different reasons. Guildmaster’s Guide includes two new subclasses, taken from UA of the past: the Order Domain for Clerics and the Circle of Spores Druid.

The Circle of Spores Druid was introduced in the Three Subclasses UA. Many people thought that all three of the subclasses would get the official treatment, but it looks like the Golgari win out this one. The Circle of Spores is mostly concerned with throwing spores around to deal damage. Their signature ability, Halo of Spores, lets you deal an unconditional 3 damage using your reaction, and many of the Subclass’s features revolve around throwing bigger spores and making clouds of spores. It is a very interesting concept with plenty of fluff to mull over, but it is maligned by crunch. Three free damage of the most easily resisted damage type will begin to fall off really, really hard even by the “late early game”. It does thankfully scale, but I wish that it scaled a bit harder. Hopefully, they will have tweaked it for this book.

The Order Domain for Clerics, meanwhile, is solid crunchy goodness. It’s like you rolled a Paladin, a Purple Dragon Knight, and a Cleric together into one big powderkeg of THE LAW. While Paladins uphold the law (usually), Order Domain Clerics worship THE LAW and believe that people should be obedient to THE LAW whenever possible, especially if it pushes forth their ideals. All of their crunch pertains to THE LAW, whether it’s shouting at foes to make them pause, outfitting themselves with the biggest pieces of armor THE LAW will let them have, or letting a particular individual feel the full force of THE LAW beaten into them repeatedly. The weirdness comes from a bit of Crunch/Fluff incompatibility. The Order Domain can be interpreted as either a nod to the Azorius or the Boros. Fluffwise, the Domain leans towards the Azorius, but the crunch does not fit, because the Azorius notably does not have any Clerics to speak of. In fact, they rank among the more agnostic Guilds on Ravnica. The Boros employ many Clerics in their ranks, but that comes at odds with the Fluff, which sounds weird, considering the Boros is pretty much the police force of Ravnica. However, above THE LAW, the Boros worship Justice, and are willing to bend and ignore the rules if they are not just. 

[wildlyhardphilosopher-blog]

training a puppy to walk on a leash | barking puppies

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training a puppy to walk on a leash | barking puppies

Bark (dog) 5. Stop Excessive Barking Bioactive Recipe Footer Menu When it comes to poo pickup, just about any kind of plastic bag will work fine. Many people use plastic grocery bags – or you can buy poo bagsfrom the pet store… some of them are even scented, which can make the trip from your dog’s favorite poo spot to the garbage can a bit more pleasant. Living Try these 11 training tips to keep you and your staff out of the doghouse. Public Adoption I have a 5 month old whoodle who pees in his crate and lays in it. He doesn’t even whine :(. During the day I keep him in our dog run outside with our other dog. At night he sleeps in his crate with no problem. But if I put him in his crate say while I’m making dinner or after dinner when the family is winding down, he will pee and I won’t know until I go to let him out. Do you think I need to keep him either in the crate or enclosed in the kitchen during the day instead of the dog run?? I was originally doing that but was getting sick of cleaning the kitchen floor every day so I switched to keeping him outside….but do you think he’s maybe not learning to hold it because he’s outside?? Although he holds it all night…I’m confused. I didn’t have any issues crate training with my labradoodle. HELP!! What is the price of the course? B) Give her a spot to poop and pee. I’ve seen children’s plastic sandboxes made into a spot of grass inside the home, giving a dog the opportunity to do it “right” even though it cannot be outside. How to Train a Puppy to Stay Healthy Bunny Diet and Nutrition The AKC Nibble Chihuahua General donations help us provide shelter 24/7 365 for lost, abandoned, unwanted or stray companion pets. Privacy Policy/Disclaimer © 2018 Gigi Moss Dog Training – All rights reserved. How to Train a Puppy to Come When Called Toggle navigation Ingredients & Nutrition Chris Stein/Getty Images copyright information Fear and Aggression 20 June 2017 Stage 3 – extending the clean zone (3-6 months) France – France Friday 11:30am to 6:00pm Finnish Lapphund Video Download Learn more about Kindle MatchBook. #1 Best Sellerin Food Animal Veterinary Medicine Subscribe to our Newsletter 5.2 I approach marking like all housetraining problems, taking dogs back to Housetraining 101, with the emphasis on keen attention, since it is important to interrupt the urge to mark before actual house-soiling occurs. For dogs who are chronic markers, a belly band that prevents house-soiling may be a helpful management tool. Business Insider Intelligence Exclusive On Artificial Intelligence Scalable Cloud Get your dog accustomed to relieving himself in the same location every time. Copyright © 2006-2018 Pets Best Insurance Services, LLC – 2323 S. Vista Ave. Ste. 100 – Boise, ID 83705 877-738-7237. Pet insurance coverage offered and administered by Pets Best Insurance Services, LLC is underwritten by American Pet Insurance Company or Independence American Insurance Company, a Delaware insurance company. Keep in touch Scolding a puppy for soiling your rug, especially after the fact, isn’t going to do anything except make her think you’re a nut. Likewise, some old methods of punishment, like rubbing a dog’s nose in her poop, are so bizarre that it’s hard to imagine how they came to be and if they ever worked for anyone. On the other hand, praising a puppy for doing the right thing works best for everything you will do in your life together. Make her think that she is a little canine Einstein every time she performs this simple, natural act. Be effusive in your praise—cheer, clap, throw cookies. Let her know that no other accomplishment, ever—not going to the moon, not splitting the atom, not inventing coffee—has been as important as this pee. Reward your pup with one of his favorite Purina® Pro Plan® treats. Make sure they’re nice and small, easy for your puppy to digest. Sievers Pet Care Greyhound With an eGift, you can instantly send a Great Course to a friend or loved one via email. It’s simple: • Seasonal & Holidays Few things are cuter or more fun than a new puppy. Bringing home one of these furry bundles of joy is often among a pet owner’s most treasured memories. The first few weeks will be filled with special milestones and precious bonding time. But to ensure that you look back fondly on the start of life with your new pet, you must take a few steps to help him grow into a well-behaved adult: Wysong Chasing You may also find your dog’s urine causes ‘lawn burn’, where the grass turns brown in regularly used areas of your lawn. Furthermore, if they regularly wee close to a door or underneath a window it can cause quite a stink to waft through your home, particularly in summer. But… If you notice real aggression in your pup, consult your veterinarian, who will check if there is a medical reason for your pup’s behavior. Your vet may also recommend your pup sees an animal behavior therapist. Ease of use: On a scale of 1 to 5, I’d say a 4. January 25, 2017 Email Alerts Second, train your puppy not to bite while being handled. Practice calm handling of your pup but pull your hands away if your puppy starts to bite at your hands. Read more about how expert trainer Pippa Mattinson trains puppies not to bite in her Complete Guide to Stopping Puppies Biting. skip to Main Content Family Matters Paper Training a Dog in an Apartment Depression Did this summary help you?YesNo RENEW (Left) Richard Wolfson There are several common potting training mistakes that pet owners make. Here are some of them, and explanations/alternatives:

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fbq('track', 'ViewContent', content_ids: 'dogtraining.dknol', ); College ArticleEditDiscuss House training a puppy or adult dog may seem daunting, but almost any dog can be trained to wait at the door and relieve himself outside, instead of going in the house. Create a schedule for feeding your dog and taking him outside. Then, reward your dog with treats and praise when he relieves himself in the designated outdoor spot. When he makes a mess in the house, just clean it up and stick to the routine, since punishing a dog will simply make him afraid of you. Patience and a good sense of humor are all you really need to help your dog adapt to life as a pet. Brussels Griffon Loading… Loading… India IN Use “Chase” to prompt your dog’s recall. Running away from your dog will play off his prey drive to chase you. Add all three to Cart Add all three to List Seminars Lene Kaufmann Why can’t we charge airline passengers based on their size? Custom curriculum Use time-outs effectively. If your puppy is engaged in bad behavior, remove it from whatever is causing the behavior and place it in a different environment. You might put it in a quiet room in the house away from distractions or outside in the yard. Leave your dog in time-out for 10 to 30 seconds, then remove it and act as though nothing happened, if your dog has stopped the bad behavior (like barking). If your puppy hasn’t stopped, wait until it does.[4] Irish Setter There are scent attractants on the market that are supposed to attract a dog and make him want to eliminate in a certain area of the yard, but I have not tried these products. If you do choose to use an attractant, bring your dog to the scent post to start the potty process. Kids Clubs Los Gatos Step 5: Learn From The Diary To Refine Your Schedule BOTHELL, WA – A video of a dog trainer hitting a dog with a plastic bat at a Bothell training school has caused outrage – but the school denies that it uses abusive techniques, and a Snohomish County animal services inspection cleared the school of wrongdoing. To make sure that you’re able to redirect the puppy’s attention onto something else easily, flood the place with dog toys. The house should look like a bomb went off—a fleecy, rubbery, furry, crunchy, squeaky bomb! You do not want to be more than a few feet from the nearest redirection device. Since you will need toys ALL the time, ensure that they are accessible. Make it easy for the puppy to do the right thing, and hard for the puppy to fail. That means toys are everywhere and easy to find, but electrical cords and other dangers are either high up or blocked off behind ex-pens, gates, furniture, etc. whenever possible. You’ll want to begin training this command in a quiet area, and indoors. First move into a squat position, with your arms open wide. Say the word “Come.” If she starts moving toward you, give her verbal praise. Like all training, use a happy, encouraging tone of voice. You want her to think that the process is fun, not scary. how to train my puppy not to bite | how to train puppy not to bark how to train my puppy not to bite | how to train your puppy not to bark how to train my puppy not to bite | training a puppy not to bark Legal | Sitemap

[northshorehealthandfitness]

Your must-have holiday SOS detox guide

At the time I’m writing this, we’re still in the early stages of the holidays. Trees and lights are going up, Christmas shopping has begun, and I’m pretty sure I’ve already heard Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” at least 5 times. – not that I’m complaining. Holiday parties are starting, and I’m sure we can all agree that no matter what celebration you’re going to, food will also be in attendance.

As I said last week when we were chatting about how to maintain healthy habits during holiday stress, we live in a very food-driven culture. It’s been part of celebrations and gatherings for centuries, and the holidays probably wouldn’t feel the same without those dishes we only have at this time of year. While some are wonderful from a nutrition perspective, there are certainly a ton of tempting treats, sugar, booze, and empty carbs. We enjoy them (some more than others), all the while knowing that there will be a price to pay to the universe for doing so. That price can come in the form of…

hangovers

sugar comas

bloating and digestive issues

feeling exhausted and lethargic

weight gain

So what happens when you find yourself dealing with one or two of these things, or worst case, all of them at once?

That’s what this little guide was built for!

Low Sugar Key Lime Pie Green Smoothie

I’ve outlined the things to avoid and things to do more of in order to return to feeling awesome ASAP. You’ve got people to see, things to do and fun times to have, and none of the situations above should hold you back. Bookmark this post and keep it handy to get the most out of the holidays.

You’ll want to avoid these things

dehydration

adding more toxins 

Coffee

Coffee is a diuretic, which means that it causes your body to release more water and salt than usual through urine. A lot of water loss can create dehydration, and if you’ve been out late, not sleeping as much as usual, consuming alcohol and already feeling that post-party hangover, dehydration is the last thing you want. Coming off of a coffee-driven caffeine high can also leave you feeling like all your energy has been zapped out, and if you’ve got sweet treats nearby, the urge to grab them for an energy boost becomes way more tempting.

Instead, swap coffee with herbal non-caffeinated or green tea. Although green tea still contains caffeine, the lift in alertness you feel is more of a gradual curve than a spike and crash. Dandelion has amazing liver detoxification abilities, and also tastes a bit like coffee so I’d check it out Dandy Blend or a dandelion root tea if it’s the taste you crave. Other great herbal options include licorice, ginger and peppermint teas, which have gut soothing properties and can help reduce any post-party bloating you’re feeling.

Excess alcohol

Probably a no-brainer, but it’s worth including. Just like caffeine, alcohol is a diuretic which means all the stuff above about dehydration applies after a night of drinking. The loss of fluid from the body means blood vessels constrict, including ones to your brain which is part of the reason we experience hangover headaches. Potentially worse is the fact that when alcohol is processed in the body, it actually introduces new toxins on top of what’s already circulating. What you feel is nausea and fatigue, and even though you might not feel it, that toxic stress also weakens the immune system. Oh, and it can mess with digestion too, because the stomach responds by squirting out more acid than usual. Ewwwww.

Non-organic produce

Specifically, avoid a non-organic dirty dozen, which are the 12 foods known to carry the highest pesticide content. If your goal is to remove toxins from the environment and any processed or less-than-whole foods you’re eating through the holidays, it doesn’t make sense to compound the issue by adding more fuel to the fire, right? Opt for organic produce when it comes to these 12 items, and if possible, for your animal products too.

Get plenty of these things

fibre

phytonutrients + antioxidants that encourage detoxification

water

healthy fats

gut-friendly foods

movement

Organic dark leafy greens

Kale, spinach, chard, whatever you like. These leaves and other green vegetables contain chlorophyll, which is great for flushing environmental toxins out of the body – especially the liver. You could get your chlorophyll by drinking green juices, but my preference is to choose green smoothies or eat your greens fresh or steamed. This is because you’ll get more fibre, which helps to keep blood sugar in check. (By contrast, green juices have almost no fibre, so the sugar is absorbed far faster into the bloodstream. A green smoothie or small salad before going out to an evening holiday party is a great idea to keep you feeling satisfied and less-tempted to overeat.

Lemon Tahini Kale Slaw with Crispy Chickpeas

Water

This might sound like a tactic that’ll make you feel more bloated, but it actually works far more in your favour. Staying hydrated not only helps you to maintain stable energy levels and mental clarity (necessary when you’ve got days at the office, weekend errands and Christmas shopping to power through), but also helps flush toxins out of the body through our urine and sweat. Without enough water, digestion slows down and the not-so-great after-effects of holiday feasting get prolonged.

Drinking water consistently throughout the day will help you to feel satiated, less likely to reach for more food, and definitely helps if you’re dealing with a hangover – as I’m sure many of you can attest! I’ll let you file this one under #Sh!tHealthCoachesSay, but drinking warm water with a squeeze of lemon juice when you wake up in the morning really does help prime your digestive system. If drinking water sounds boring, try these flavoured water cocktails, one of the herbal teas listed above, or check out the next tip…

Water-dense fruits and vegetables

That’s your cucumbers, zucchini, celery, tomatoes, bell peppers, cabbage, berries, grapefruit, oranges, and of course, more greens. All of these are made up of over 90% water, which will help you maintain hydration levels needed to flush toxins out of the body. As a bonus, the water content in these foods, combined with their rich vitamin and mineral profiles also contribute to healthy, glowing skin. That pairs really nicely with your LBD!

Water content aside, consuming more fruits and vegetables will help you feel satiated, naturally crowding out the desire for less nutrient-dense foods. Look out for deep blue and purple-ish pigments (think beets, berries, pomegranate, figs, purple potatoes, red cabbage,  etc) which indicate lots of free radical-zapping antioxidants perfect for cleansing the blood. Many cruciferous vegetables (broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower, cabbage etc) are also top choices due to their high levels of glutathione, an antioxidant that supports the liver’s detox process.

Roasted Root Vegetable + Quinoa Bowls with Balsamic Vinaigrette

Healthy fats

I’m talking about oily fish such as salmon and sardines, extra virgin olive oil, eggs (specifically yolks) hemp and flax seeds, chia seeds, almonds and walnuts. Not only are foods high in essential fatty acids great because they reduce inflammation, but the fat also acts as a lubricant for the digestive system. (I think I’ve used this analogy in the past, but think of it like a waterslide with water running through it vs one without – things get stuck in the latter!)

Avocado is another great source of healthy fat, and one of my favourites too! These contain monounsaturated fat, which encourages the gall bladder to release bile and therefore remove more toxins from the body. If you really want to be a detox rockstar, combine one of these healthy fats with the water-dense fruits and veggies above for maximum absorption of fat soluble vitamins (that’s A, D, E and K.)

DIY Brunch Avocado Toast Bar

Fermented foods

I think we’d all stand to benefit from more gut-friendly foods in our diet during any time of year, but they’re especially important if you’ve been eating, drinking and partying like you mean it. I’ve talked here on the blog plenty in the past about how more and more science is suggesting that the gut is where it’s at when it comes to tackling so many health conditions, from those immediately impacting digestion to things like brain fog, overall energy, immune and mental health. If we can set ourselves up for happier guts by eating more delicious whole foods, I’m all for it and I’m guessing you probably are to.

So what to choose? If your digestion is feeling sluggish for whatever reason – too many treats, drinks, starchy carbs, too much stress, etc – consider working kombucha, sauerkraut, kimchi, pickled vegetables, miso, tempeh and coconut kefir into your next-day meals. Fermented foods contain probiotics which help feed the good bacteria in our digestive systems. By doing so, we’re better able to absorb the good bits in what we eat (vitamins, minerals etc) and get rid of the bad bits (toxins, waste products, etc.)

Easy DIY Kimchi Tutorial

One more to remember: apple cider vinegar. Not only is the kind with the mother (those floaty bits at the bottom of the bottle) also a fermented food with the same benefits I just mentioned, but it also has antibiotic and antiseptic properties that help repair gut damage. While it’s great for consuming the day after a big meal to help remove toxins, it’s also beneficial when taken before to help stimulate digestive enzyme production.

Exercise

Similar to water, moving your body helps the digestive system hum along, encouraging food along its merry way. This absolutely doesn’t have to be intense exercise. In fact, doing super tough workouts while your body is trying to digest food really isn’t a great idea, no matter how tempted you might be to sweat out the excess calories.

Digestion requires energy, and when your body is in this process, blood flows towards the organs doing that work. If you fire up a HIIT session, that blood is forced to flow to the working muscles, and the result is likely going to be cramping in your stomach – not cool! Instead, go for a post-meal walk. If you get home late, get yourself to a yoga class in the morning (after you’ve had your warm lemon water, of course.) The light movement will keep things moving, and it’ll get you away from tables and buffets where seconds and desserts are still around calling your name. As an added bonus, exercise can also stimulate the body’s production of glutathione, which as mentioned above, supports the liver’s detoxification process.

Summing up: Your Holiday SOS Detox Shopping List

Leafy greens: Spinach, kale, chard, collard greens, dandelion greens, beet greens, turnip greens, romaine lettuce etc

Water: straight-up, herbal/non-caffeinated teas, and infusions using fresh herbs + produce

Water-dense fruit + vegetables: cucumbers, zucchini, celery, tomatoes, bell peppers, cabbage, berries, grapefruit, oranges, greens

Deeply-pigmented blue + purple produce: beets, berries, pomegranate, figs, purple potatoes, red cabbage etc

Cruciferous vegetables: Broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, cabbage, kale, bok choy, radish etc

Healthy fats: salmon, sardines, mackerel, extra virgin olive oil, eggs, hemp seeds, chia seeds, flax seeds, almonds, walnuts, avocado

Fermented foods: kombucha, sauerkraut, kimchi, pickled vegetables, miso, tempeh, coconut kefir, apple cider vinegar

Gentle exercise: walking and yoga

Your overindulgence remedy: Must-have holiday SOS #detox guide Click To Tweet

Now over to you! Tell me… if you have a little too much fun (as in, to the point where you have to pay a painful price in bloating, digestive issues, hangovers etc), what are your tips for feeling back to your normal self ASAP?

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