#i was gonna post this during the marathon this saturday but as always i have zero impulse control

[aquilaofarkham]

Samurai Jack (2001-2017)

[tory-ben-hi-shelton]

my favourite quotes from exposure

Multiple sets of handcuffs appeared and were applied. Bailiffs began peeling off the dog-pile like layers of an onion. And there, at the bottom of the scrum, was Kit. He was panting like a marathoner, arms still wrapping the Gamemaster's legs in a death grip. He'd clearly been the first to react.

"Oh, man!" Shelton had both hands on his dome. He seemed winded, despite not having moved during the attack. "Things just got real in here."

"Sorry I froze in there, Tor." Shelton frowned as he shirt wiped his glasses. "Not exactly my 'One Shining Moment', huh?" I waved off his apology. I knew Shelton hated how skittish he could be.

I try to hide the eruptions, but the guys can always tell. They do their best to support me even though it makes them uncomfortable. It's very sweet, but teenage boys make lousy grief counsellors.

The previous semester, Ben had been in half our classes, too, despite being a junior. Obviously, he was no longer around. Sometimes it felt like a limb was missing.

"Jason might be there," Courtney chirped. "He likes you."

"Oh." Not a brilliant response. "Yeah, maybe. I might have a thing, though."

Wonderful. Good job, good effort, Tory.

Behind me, I heard Hi fake coughing to cover his snickers

"I should be a secret agent." Hi blew on his fingernails, then buffed them on his lapel. "Or a magician. Maybe both. Someone write that down."

My hands shot for the Ray-Bans, but Ben caught my fingers mid-flight.

"It's not nice to grab," he said calmly.

"I can't handle all this tension," Shelton moaned. "Too much fighting."

Hi nodded, watching Ben dissapear down a side street. "We need to work on our conflict management. Maybe attend a seminar."

"Make your own?" Hi shifted to look at my face. "Victoria Grace, have you been holding out on me?"

"Tell me everything."

"You're not gonna be happy," Hi warned. "Don't kill the messenger."

"Or his good-looking buddy," Shelton added.

"On Saturday Ben and I drove to John's Islands to see Skyfall."

"You did?" Hi said sharply. "Thanks for the invite, jerks."

Shelton raised his palms. "You were at temple. We're suppose to wait around? Plus, you've seen that movie like five times."

"You still could've asked," Hi grumbled. "I don't—"

"Guys!" I clapped my hands once. "The story, please."

"So many gentleman admirers," Hi mused. "Must be tough, being a heartbreaker."

"Zip it. Unless you wanna see a leg-breaker too."

Ella adopted a mock serious tone. "Will you bodyguards consent?"

I giggled. "If Shelton and Hi are my bodyguards, I don't like my chances. And yes."

"See this?" Ben glanced at the mirror and pointed to his chin. "This is my 'couldn't care less' face."

"Boys?" I stood and faced them. "Something to share?"

"It was a secret." Hi aimed a kick at Shelton, who dodged easily. "Ben made us swear not to tell."

I crossed my arms. Waited.

"Tell Kit we're cutting a music video," Hi suggested as we walked. "Something real gangster, so we need to smash-cut our dance routines. Lay down some visuals. We could offer to let him freestyle rap over the second verse."

"Come on, Sambo!" Hi winked. "Live a little. What are we going to do, rob the place?"

The guard crossed his arms. "Wink at me again, Hiram, and I'll throw you to the wolfpack."

"Did I not mention that?" My brain was truly deep fried. "We went together."

"Oh." Hi and Shelton at once. Ben looked away.

"Hey, wait." I leaned closer to the screen. "You guys wouldn't have wanted to go. I took Ella so I wouldn't be paraded around like Whitney's toy poodle." No one spoke. Nonplussed, I decided to change the subject.

I glowered at Ben from the backseat. I'd given Hi shotgun, having sensed this argument was inevitable. I didn't want to be close. The urge to slap might become overpowering.

"Why don't we use our friendly words?" Hi suggested. "Let's take five, and everyone can say something we like about each other. I'll start. Shelton you're super at—"

"Shut up, Hi!" Ben and I shouted, the first thing we'd agreed upon all morning.

"Must be hell to keep the pH balance correct. I know how it is. I owned a goldfish once."

"Once?" Shelton asked.

"It died. Almost immediately."

"Nice work."

"It's a cultural thing," Hi was saying. "I think you're being insensitive."

Hines snorted. "Do you want me to cuff you?"

"Kinda."

"A minute alone, Tory. I'd like a quick chat."

Ben shot forward. "You can stick chat right up—"

Hi waved at me from across the yard, waiting for his mother to arrive. Apparently he'd body-blocked the first cops to chase me through the house. The police were none too pleased. I owe you one, Hi. You bought me enough time.

Entering the Virals chat room, I found all three boys present.

Uh oh.

They'd met there ahead of time, before alerting me. To discuss me.

I glanced up to see Shelton holding latex gloves. Hi had the ziplocks. Ben handed me a cotton swab and stopper. "Anything else?"

Despite the circumstances, I smiled.

Ruth popped her son on the back of the head. "Mind your manners, Hiram."

"Why does everyone do that?" Hi muttered. "And that was child abuse. In front of the police, I might add."

He looked away. The harbour breeze ruffled his silky black hair. My hand found his, almost by its own volition.

I couldn't be mad at Ben anymore. It was like being mad at my left arm. And right then, I needed my arm back.

A smile quirked on my father's lips. "And you, Mr. Blue? Ready for a good ol'-fashioned backyard barbecue? My daughter will be there."

Ben's uneasy smile was his only response.

Ben reached up from where he was lying with his eyes closed. Smacked Hi's dome.

Hi rubbed his head. "I'm getting pretty tired of that move."

"Then quit being a dope." Ben's lids remained shut.

"Hey, sure. No problem. I just need to—"

Hi lunged for Ben, intending a flying body slam. Ben caught Hi in midair and tossed him downhill in one quick motion. Hi tumbled, rolled, and dropped over the berm of the sand.

"That was dumb." Hi informed the blue sky.

Ben started talking about Wando High. I countered with news of Bolton. Before long, we'd exchanged stories, catching up on the last five months of each other's lives. I hadn't realized how much I missed Ben. How badly I wanted him back at Bolton.

He was right, of course. I was keeping several secrets from Ben. Like how comfortable it felt to be alone with him. How much I'd missed his reassuring presence. His quiet strength.

Ben removed his shoes, plunged both feet into the lapping salt waters Then he leaned back against a post, sighing contently. The little-boy maneuver brought a smile to my face.

"You're staying out here?" Shelton asked. "Alone?"

"No big deal. I don't want Kit to see what I'm up to."

"I don't like it," Ben said. Behind him, Hi looked uneasy.

"No one knows this place exists." I pointed to the other room. "And there's an 85 pound predator in there that loves me. I'll be fine."

...

"Text me when you get home." Ben requested. "Please don't forget."

I hid a smile. "Will do. Bye, guys."

I sat forward at the table. "Okay, so ... like, don't freak out."

That got their attention.

"About?" Ben took the seat across from me, next to Hiram.

"There was an incident last night." Oh so calm. "I'm perfectly okay, but on the way hone someone attacked me on the beach."

"What?!" Three stunned voices.

"That's why you didn't text," Ben muttered.

Ben shook his head in wonderment. "Incredible. It's nice having a genius around."

"It's only genius if it works." But I flushed at the compliment.

I squeezed Ben's shoulder. "Who's the genius now?"

He snorted, looked away.

"You let her go alone?" Ben scolded, slowly working his way down to where Hi was beached. "That defeats the whole purpose!"

"I'm aware of that, Benjamin." Hi tried slinging a leg onto the riverbank, but it flopped back into the rolling current. "But she'd figured out you sent her away from the mine on purpose. You try telling Tory what to do when she's pissed."

"I'll pass."

"How's the leg, detective? Or did my wolfdog bite you in the ass, instead?"

"Hey, at least it's not your birthday. Worst one ever, by the way."

His fist came up. I dapped it with mine.

"For Tory," Shelton said.

"For Tory." All jokes shelved.

Coop was rolling in the leaves, pinning someone beneath his massive bulk.

Ben dove on the tangle with a voice-cracking whoop.

I was no longer alone. The Virals had found me. Ben was beaming, unable to hide his relief. He turned quickly, wiping his glowing eyes. Shelton darted forward and crushed me with a hug. Coop was dancing and bucking, his tail wagging so hard he had trouble keeping balance. My boys. My heroes.

"Do you confronted the twins alone, without waiting for us?" Ben couldn't keep the anger from his voice. "After making us promise not to do anything like that?"

"We can discuss my impulsiveness another time—"

"Oh, we will." Ben assured me.

I ejected the spent clip from the HK45, slammed the new one into place, then worked the slide to chamber a round. Then I held the weapon loosely at my side, barrel pointed toward the ground.

"I'm terrified of you right now," Hi said wide-eyed. "And in love. Take me shooting with your aunt Tempe next time."

"Take the SUV and go. I'll stay with Ella and handle the fallout."

"Out of your mind." Ben said immediately.

"We could drive away without anybody knowing."

"I'm not leaving Tory to face this alone," Ben insisted. "Get serious!"

I spoke softly. "The cops will eat you alive, Benjamin Blue. You have to go."

Ben tensed, ready to argue.

"Detective Hawfield died. This is going to get serious. It's way too much heat for you. Please be sensible."

Ben hesitated. Then his shoulders slumped.

"Maybe you're right." Deep breath. "But you're taking away the other possibility, too."

"I don't understand." I glanced over my shoulder at the approaching vehicle. "What other possibility?"

He smiled wanly. "Ben Blue, The Hero. That kinda would've been nice."

I paused, at a loss for words. My heart broke for him.

"But that's okay." Ben dug keys from his pocket. "After all, we're Virals, not heroes. And that's fine. Plus, I'm not really the hero type."

He turned to leave.

Impulsively, I grabbed Ben's arm. Pulled him close. Smashed my lips against his. The kiss only lasted a second, but also an eternity. Then I stepped back an shoved Ben towards the Explorer.

"Of course you're the type." I was grateful the darkness hid my blushes. "Now go."

Ben stared, stricken, thunderstruck. Hi and Shelton watched, wide-eyed with shock.

"Weirdest birthday ever," Hi whispered.

"Corcoran will survive," Ben commented sourly. "He always does. We crack the case, he gets to be the hero."

My head whipped to Ben. Was that bitterness?

I saw no trace. Ben was smiling, relaxed for the first time in days. Maybe months.

As my father strode away, Shelton and Hi both unleashed dramatic yawns.

"Welp." Hi stretch his arms over his head. "I'd better go check on various things that aren't right here. You coming, Shelton?"

"Oh you know it." Hiding a smile. "Stuff to do. No time to waste."

I descended two steps.

Stopped.

Shot back up.

Wrapped Ben in a bone-crushing hug.

Startled, it took him a moment before he hugged me back.

"He didn't say anything to me," Hi repeated. "And if Shelton were sick, I'd be the first to hear about it. At length."

"So what's the plan?" Ben asked.

"Go inside. Look around. Improvise."

"Brilliant." Hi stroked his chin. "Quick question: Is having no plan the same as having a terrible plan, or are those different categories?"

[lurkinmerkin]

In a rare instance of downtime between Captain America movies, Steve Rogers watches Star Trek (The Original Series). 1) Does he find it on his own or does someone introduce him to it? 2) Does he go for in for marathon viewing or just sporadically watch it? 3) Who is his fave character? 4) What is he shipping? 5) His fave episode? 6) The episode he just doesn't get or would rather forget? 7) I'm clearly bored, please hit me with some random CapTrek headcanon?

CapTrek headcanon? LET ME HOOK YOU UP.

1) I’m a let you in on a little secret: SAILORS AND MARINES FUCKING LOVE STAR TREK. They are straight up Sci-Fi NERDS. When I lived in Iceland on a NATO base we would have a charity fundraiser week where you could bid money (for the widow and orphan funds) to control what music played on the radio, whether a person was sent to “jail” and had to chicken dance their way out, and also what shows to marathon on Saturday night. THOSE FUCKERS CHOSE STAR TREK. THEY PAID GOOD MONEY TO WATCH SOME TRAK. So when you see Steve-o racing around in DC when he wasn’t sitting on planes with Nazis, they were probably making a million Trek jokes. It was most likely the second thing he googled after “All my friends are dead, help me--”

2) I see him being a sporadic watcher. The first season is a bit rough up until Mudd’s Women. It’s a struggle. But once you hit season 2 and Amok Time you’re like...can’t stop, won’t stop. But there are enough good episodes in season one that I think he would have kept going. I imagine that Tomorrow is Yesterday would have intrigued him along with The Galileo Seven, Space Seed, Conscience of the King and the real heartbreaker of a story that is The City on the Edge of Forever (The story of Kirk letting the love of his life die in the past in order to stop Nazis from taking over has Steve crying in his bathtub and then he goes to see Peggy and they discuss the episode from HER point of view and then he has to keep bringing it up because she keeps forgetting so he’s like ;A;)

3) HIS FAVORITE CHARACTER IS actually kind of difficult for me to say so I’m going to divvy it up based on different factors: Of the Triumvirate, I’m gonna say Kirk. Kirk is an idealist, an optimist, he often factors duty above himself, but in the end he is always just, “A boy from Iowa.”

Outside of the top three though I can see him being a big fan of Chekov. Chekov isn’t in the first season so he’s already been saying “But I kind of like Kirk,” to everyone however I can him finding Chekov’s youth and enthusiasm endearing. When he learns about the Cold War implications of Chekov’s existence--how having a Russian on the show was a big deal and then post-Winter Soldier he’s like, Chekoooooooooovvvv. Plus, Anton Yelchin’s Chekov in the nu-movies is so cute who doesn’t love him?

Before Chekov shows up though, I think while Steve says Kirk is his fave, he really prefers Janice Rand. Janice is sharp, self-contained, emotional, and can kick your ass. Her departure from the show makes him angry.

4) Shipping, I think he was a supporter of Kirk/Rand in season one but after that figured forever alone before dying when the ship exploded sounded nice, hahahahaha ;A;

(When he finds the Sulu/Chekov fandom though he becomes a huge fan).

5) He tells people City on the Edge of Forever because that’s what they want to hear but he likes the episodes that are silly and fun like the Flash Gordon/Buck Rogers reels he’d watch during the war. I think he’s a fan of Operation: Annihilate! Who doesn’t love floating goo? I also think that the gamesmanship of The Enterprise Incident would be a favorite with Steve.

6) And the Children Shall Lead is just stupid. I also can’t see Steve getting behind Patterns of Force. Nah.

7) Steve’s favorite movie is The Voyage Home.

[wantisamlindyla]

Your Ghost - Chapter 1

New York, 1999.

He wanted her to live again, even if she could only come back to him through the pages of a book. 

A/N: Hi all. I’ve been sitting on this for a while I finally decided to post the first chapter.  I have a rough outline but I don’t know how many chapters there are going to be, maybe 6? This is AU, Mileven, takes place 15 years after Eleven disappeared. Most of season 2 still happened, but there was no Mike/Eleven Reunion at the end of episode 8. Will eventually post on Ao3, but I dunno when I’m gonna get my invite to set up an account. Enjoy!

28 October 1999

 “Ladies and gentlemen thank you for coming here today. There will be a book signing of this amazing book after this session. Now, the reason for why we are all here today, and why some of you have been lining up outside the venue all night, is currently backstage, waiting patiently for me to stop nerding out and pull myself together to introduce him!

 After publishing his first novel and topping the New York bestseller’s list at only the age of 23, he is here tonight to talk about his newest novel, titled the Ides of Winter, and the third book in the world famous Montauk series. Everybody, please join me in welcoming to the stage, Michael Wheeler!”

***

It was one month and 17 days into the book tour. Mike had one more stop in New York before he could call it a day and go home.

He was so goddamned tired, he still had several book signings, an interview with the New Yorker (with that pretentious prig, Howell), a TV appearance on the Today Show, and, a few radio interviews, before he can escape back to the Lake house in Lovell, Maine which he now called home.

It’s not all bad news though. New York means seeing Will again for the first time since Christmas.

Not that Mike has completely lost all touch with his old friends, quite on the contrary.  

After graduating from a fine arts course at his brother’s alma mater, NYU, Will had decided to stay in the city. He’d eventually landed an unpaid internship at a small start up animation studio. Now Will split his time travelling back and forth from California to New York as the head character designer on a number of superhero animated cartoons that Mike watched religiously on Saturday mornings.

It wasn’t hard to stay in touch with Will, it was just that this last year had been manic. Mike had barely fit in time for sleep what with working frantically to get his novel finished, having to attend stressful and tense meetings with his editor, forcing himself to return his lawyers’ phone calls about a copyright infringement litigation his publishers had commenced on his behalf, and having to deal with ideas about for the short story anthology he had been working on springing up at the most inconvenient times.

He and Will still managed to talk every other day though, either by telephone or AIM.

Ever since Nancy and Jonathan officially became a couple around Christmas of ‘84, Jonathan and Will became regular dinner guests at the Wheeler residence. He and Will had become almost inseparable, more than anybody in the party.

During his parents’ divorce, which took place during Mike’s sophomore year of high school, with Nancy and Jonathan away at college, Mike spent more and more time at the Byers’ residence, trying to escape the tensions at home, right up until he left for college in ‘89.

At college, Mike made new friends, attended dumb keg parties, dated girls, but he never lost touch with Dustin, Will, Lucas, or Max.

You didn’t help save the end of the world with your friends, twice, and then drift away from them over trivial things like distance and attending different colleges.

In fact, Mike had just met up with Dustin only a few months ago. Dustin had been in Maine for some reason connected with his annoyingly mysterious job.

After Dustin had graduated from MIT he had immediately been recruited by a secretive tech company in California. Dustin couldn’t talk about where he worked or what he did at his job. Whenever people asked him where he worked he’d tell them Cyberdyne Systems with a straight face.

He and Dustin had attended the Phantom Menace premiere together with Dustin’s then-girlfriend, Cindy. The boys had left the movie theatre deflated and heartsore while Cindy had tried valiantly to console them by saying all the wrong things.

Dustin called Mike a few weeks later to inform him that he and Cindy were no longer going out.

“I had to dump her Mike, she said she thought Jar Jar Binks was cute. Also she refused to share her food with me when we went out.”

“So?”

 “So? So? It’s weird. We go out for Italian and I end up having to eat an entire Pepperoni pizza on my own, which I don’t really mind, but then her ravioli looks good too, but she won’t let me have any because she likes us to have our own meals. And don’t even get me started on that time I took her to Wang’s Treasure Palace.” 

Besides those occasional and surprising visits during the year there was always Christmas and New Years at Lucas and Max’s place to look forward to.

Of all of them only Lucas and Max had opted to return to Hawkins. Lucas quit his mechanical engineering job and got a position as an assistant professor, teaching at the community college only after a few years in Chicago. Max got a job as a mechanic at a garage. They bought a house, got married, and got busy starting a family.

Mike smiled at the memory of last year’s Christmas.

He’d practically lived at Lucas and Max’s house the whole time he was there since the picture perfect Wheeler family Christmases that his mom had worked so hard to create during his childhood was now only a distant memory.

Nancy preferred to spend her Christmases in New York with Jonathan and Mrs Byers. The Wheeler home had been sold a few years ago when Holly had left to go to college. Holly preferred to spend her holidays in Chicago with her boyfriend’s family.

His mom was away on another cruise, and, his dad was busy with wife number two.

So, Mike spent his Christmas and News Years at the Sinclairs. He’d taught their three-year-old son, Robbie, how to build a snowman. He conducted a twelve-hour D & D Campaign, pelted Dustin with snowballs, watched a pregnant Max eat all the ice-cream and listened to her complain about how gassy pregnancy made her, watched a star wars marathon and gorged on pizza on Christmas day (just because Max was the only girl in the party did not mean that she would be cooking and cleaning for four man-child wastoids who liked to mooch off her and Lucas).  

Mike considered a detour to Hawkins for a visit after New York so he could meet the newest addition to the Sinclair family, baby Grace, who was about to turn 6 months old. He decided to bring it up with Will tonight at dinner.

Mike pulled himself back to the present and to the interviewer who was introducing him to her broadcast audience.  

“You’re listening to Terry Gross on Fresh Air. Joining us today is Michael Wheeler, author of the best selling book series, Montauk. The series is set in the 60s, in the small town of Montauk in upstate New York, the town is haunted by the misdeeds of its occupants.

The main protagonist is Millie, a brave young girl, with a few secrets of her own.

When Millie’s best friend, Noah, goes missing in mysterious and sinister circumstances, she sets out on a journey into the woods near the town to find him. The first two books in the series have already sold over 80 million copies worldwide and a movie adaptation of the first novel is currently in the works. The third book in the series, Ides of Winter, was released recently.

Michael was only 23 when the first novel in the series was published. He was awarded the Hugo Award for best new author in ‘95 and he has been named one of Time’s most influential people of the year. Michael thank you so much for joining us today.”

“Of course, thank you for having me.”

Terry was one of the best interviewers Mike had the pleasure of meeting. Her soft spoken and inquisitive questions put him immediately at ease, so much so that so he almost forgot he was being interviewed on radio.

He didn’t forget to lie though.

When Terry asked him about where he’d drawn inspiration from for his twelve-year-old girl protagonist, he told her Millie was a blend of himself and the two sisters whom he’d grown up with.

When Terry asked him what drew him to the supernatural and horror themes prevalent in his novels, he only talked about the books and authors he’d read growing up.

“Michael, my favourite chapter of your second novel is the Cave of Horrors. I’m sure you get that a lot. I just wanted to ask you about that chapter, because it’s pivotal, its when Millie comes to believe that she may have truly lost her friend forever, and you write so well about grief, and loss, and the trauma associated with that at such a young age. I guess what I wonder is, was this kind of loss something you had experience with?”

Mike pauses for a long moment.

He doesn’t know what it was, perhaps it’s the kindness in Terry’s voice.

Maybe it was the year he’d just had, it’d been especially difficult.  

Maybe it was the tour.

Maybe it was the thought of that big empty lake house waiting for him at the end of the tour.

Maybe he’s just so tired of the lies and the bullshit. He didn’t really even understand why he still did it; it’s as natural as breathing, but its been almost 15 years. All the men who could punish him or his friends for saying the wrong thing are long gone.

He doesn’t know why or what it is, but all of a sudden his chest feels as if it’s been cracked wide open and its like everyone can see the wound inside him, vulnerable and raw as the day it happened. He wants to tell the world about her, he wants to scream it from the top of the Empire State Building.

He’s twelve years old again, he can smell the tang of blood and the smoke of ashes that had never touched fire. He can hear the violent and desperate screams of a dying creature ringing in his ears and in between darkness and the flickering fluorescent lights, he sees her eyes, tired, resigned, and filled with pain.

Goodbye Mike.

He wanted her to live again, even if she could only come back to him through the pages of a book.

So he’d saved her the only way he knew how. She came back to life by people reading his book, by growing to love and adore Millie, the brave and wonderful girl that would face monsters and death in order to save her friends.

“I….I lost a friend when I was a kid Terry. I don’t really speak about it often. But the way that it happened….it was violent and sudden. I don’t think I was able to come to grips with it for many years. It’s hard to admit sometimes, I think I lie to myself about it, but so much of her is in my writing.”

Terry nodded thoughtfully even though though the gesture won’t be captured by the microphone.

“Did writing help you with dealing with that loss?”

Mike answered honestly, “I don’t know. Some days I think it’s made it worse, because she’s with me, everyday. I live and breathe the loss of her in work. But its just become inseparable from me, the pain. I think it’s just like an arm, or a leg. You heal, but you’re not ever the same. And you never really forget what you lost.” 

[making-my-choices]

Magnetic- Chris x MC

Hi to anyone reading this! So not only is this my first piece of fanfic, it is actually my first EVER tumblr post! I’ve done a little creative writing in the past, but I’m very rusty these days. I hope I’ve done ok, I’m just a big Choices fan and I’ve loved reading so much of the fanfic out there, and wanted to dive in and add my little ideas to it! My MC’s name is Mara, so I’m gonna stick with that for now. This is undoubtedly a fluffy, sweet NSFW, so if that isn’t your thing, give this one a miss. Here goes nothing!

Summary- Chris and MC spend a lazy Saturday morning together, making the most of an empty house (set during The Sophomore)

Mara woke as the breeze coming through the bedroom window ruffled her hair, lazily strewn across her face. Her first instinct was to squeeze her eyes shut, and fight the unwelcome wake up call. She had stayed up way too late the previous night, trying unsuccessfully to wait up for Chris to get home after a marathon student council meeting. Happily, she now felt the weight of him sleeping beside her and carefully turned to face him. They had no plans this morning, and found themselves in an empty house with the roommates all out and busy.

In the morning light, she took her time running her eyes over every inch of his peaceful face, trying to commit the tiniest details to memory- the casual flip of his sandy hair, the slight shadow of morning stubble, the soft mouth she loved so much. She could hardly believe that he had only come into her life a year ago- she had never felt so comfortable with someone so quickly. Or fallen quite so hard.

Chris’s brow knit into a discontented frown as he stirred from his sleep. Mara held her breath, watching his closed eyes for any sign of opening. Instead, a crooked half-smile appeared across his face.

“I can feel you staring at me, babe,” he laughed quietly and deeply, his raspy morning voice making her smile. She slipped her arms around him and kissed him gently. “I’m very sorry Mr. President,” she paused as he chuckled at the silly nickname, “but it’s almost impossible to look away when you’re in the room”.

He pulled her towards himself, holding her tight against his chest. She breathed deeply, inhaling the delicious scent of him- yesterday’s cologne mixed with late night coffee and the smell of fresh laundry from her sheets. “You laugh, but you know that’s how it actually is for me, Mara- I can never take my eyes off you,” he kissed the top of her head and rested his chin there. She nuzzled closer to him, marvelling as always at how easily their bodies fit together. But she wasn’t going to just take the compliment- he was so adorably sincere, she couldn’t help but tease him a little. She scoffed and lifted her head to meet his gaze, narrowing her eyes. “Oh really? Honestly Chris, that just seems like a very impractical way to go through life. How do you ever get anything done?”

Immediately he gave her the reaction she craved. His blue eyes flooded with intensity as he held her gaze, “I mean it, babe. All of our friends feel it too- it’s impossible not to. You’re magnetic.”

She blinked, taking in his sweet, raw words and weighing her options. She decided to push him just a little further, hoping it would pay off. She sighed dramatically. “Well if that’s true, why is it so easy for you to leave me all the time and run off to extra gym sessions and endless council business and strategy meetings with Darren and poker nights with the guys and-” In one swift movement, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her so deeply and with such feeling that the warmth pooled in the pit of her stomach almost immediately. She exhaled and smiled, relieved that her little game had achieved the desired result- as it always did.

He laughed softly and whispered in her ear, “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, buddy. I can read you like a book. My favourite book. I know exactly which page to turn to next…” She giggled as his hand snaked down the front of her, stopping to rest at the band of her underwear. She unconsciously rolled her hips towards him and murmured, “You are so cheesy Christopher Powell. And I love it.” He threw his head back and laughed, “Come on! That was a pretty good line, or so I thought!”

Now it was her turn to be sincere. “You don’t need lines to get my interest, baby. I’m yours, always.” He brought his face back to hers and raised his eyebrows, “And you don’t have to tease me to get me to talk about my feelings for you, Mara. I’ll shout them out any time anywhere, without persuasion.”

She smiled mischievously. “But where’s the fun in that?”

That was the last straw. He was on her instantly, his mouth on her neck in the spot he knew made her weak. She released a satisfied moan, the sweetest sound in his life, he was sure of it. He kissed his way slowly, slowly, slowly down her chest, setting up camp at her breasts and lovingly lavishing them with his tongue. When he caught her left nipple in his mouth and sucked deeply the way she loved, she gasped and arched off the bed. He slipped his hand under her underwear and dipped into her molten core.

“Chris,” she panted, her feelings overwhelming her after the slow build of their back and forth, “I need you now.” He needed no further instruction, positioning himself above her and holding himself up on his forearms. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and entwined her legs with his lower body. He hovered above her and looked at her, drinking in her closed eyes and parted mouth, her hair already a mess. He couldn’t help but smile. He was so lucky to get to see her like this, so unrestrained and undone. Her eyes snapped open and she caught his eyes wandering down her body, a look of honest admiration across his face. She nudged his arm. “Hey you,” she arched an eyebrow at her and he grinned at her sexily. “Sorry babe, maybe it’s my turn to tease you now..”

“Oh I don’t think so, baby. I’ve got a lot more tricks up my sleeve that will have you begging me to give you what you want.” He laughed at her confident defiance and rolled off her, lying on his back with his arms behind his head- using all his willpower to appear relaxed despite jumping out of his skin with lust for her. He locked eyes with her and uttered two words-

“Prove it.”

[j-writes-and-suffers]

NaNoWriMo Day Two

Philip woke up to a hand on his shoulder. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, sitting up straighter in his armchair. “Huh? What’s up?”

“I’m afraid I have to kick you out, now. It’s midnight, the library is closing.” A familiar lanky figure was standing over Philip, his eyes in shadow, but his smile visible. All the lights except the one nearest them had been turned off, giving the library an eerie haunted-castle vibe.

“Crap. Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you.” Philip scrambled to his feet, cursing under his breath. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep so early; he’d bring a second coffee with him next time. Gathering his things, he realized his phone was almost dead, and he’d only finished half his lesson plans. He felt like a lazy idiot, and to make it worse, Lucien had witnessed all his incompetence. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he hurried to the door.

Lucien chuckled. “Don’t stress yourself out. I’m not in any rush to leave.” He walked past Philip to hold the door for the younger man. “Have a good night.”

“You, too.” Philip nodded as he strolled down the front steps, “See you tomorrow.” He stopped dead in his tracks. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that, it was just his default reply to classmates and professors.

“Is that a promise?” Still standing at the door, Lucien raised an eyebrow, backlit and grinning mischievously.

Philip bit his lip, his face flushing as he tried to gauge whether Lucien was joking. “Um… sure?”

“Wonderful. I’ll see you then.” Lucien closed the door behind him, locking it with a creaky old key.

“Yeah. Uh-huh. See you.” Philip bolted off into the night before he could say anything else stupid. By the time he got back to his apartment, it was nearly one in the morning, and he was fucking exhausted. His phone had died on the walk home, so he stuck it on the charger, changing into pajamas in the meantime.

Despite how tired he was, Philip found himself struggling to sleep. There were too many thoughts clattering around in his head. Tomorrow was the first day of Welcome Week - a period of five days prior to the start of school with introductory celebrations, campus tours, and nightly food and games.

Tuesday morning was a pep rally, followed by the induction of all the new students and teachers. In the afternoon, there were games and raffles where school merchandise like shirts, pencils, and mugs could be won. On Wednesday, the clubs, fraternities, sororities, and other organizations put out booths around the school, with recruiters trying to pull in freshman and transfers. Thursday, all the different departments held events, including a documentary marathon by the History Department, go-kart racing in the Engineering Department, and the English Department's poetry slam, which Philip was going to help host. Friday was the students versus professors dodgeball game - an infamously fun but chaotic yearly tradition. Finally, Saturday, there was a school spirit parade through the town, followed by a huge picnic in the courtyard and a bonfire in the evening, Philip wondered if he would see Lucien at any of the Spirit events. He also started to worry whether he would actually have time to return to the library tomorrow. He was helping run games in the afternoon, and wouldn't be free until at least eight or nine. He did still need to finish his lesson plans though, so he decided that even if he was tired and running a little late, he would indeed be back as promised.

He was also wondering if Lucien really wanted him to come back. Was he just messing with Philip, teasing the newcomer for shits and giggles? Or did he actually have an interest in his new colleague, and genuinely want to get to know him. He had seemed pretty sincere when they spoke, and something about his warm, vibrant eyes and subtle coy smile drew Philip in, making him more compelled to trust the older man.

What could Lucien possibly see in him? Philip wondered. He wasn't very intelligent, or worldly, or even funny. He was barely more than a student himself, just an awkward 20-something struggling to acclimate to adult responsibilities. Maybe he could impress Lucien during the week; he was planning to perform a couple of his own poems on Thursday, and he was actually pretty decent at dodgeball. Once he proved that he actually had some talents, maybe Lucien would think of him as an equal, instead of the silly kid he appeared to be now.

Having finally gathered a charge, Philip’s phone lit up as it turned itself back on. He grabbed it to check for messages - nothing new, save for an automated reminder from his cell provider. Even though the digital clock in the top right of the screen read 3:17, Philip couldn’t bring himself to try to sleep. When he closed his eyes, bright green irises hovered in his mind, simultaneously making him excited and self-conscious.

Pulling up Facebook on his phone again, he scrolled through the cute animal pictures and political memes his friends had posted all evening. He found himself laughing at most of the posts, and started to wonder whether he really was any more mature than the rest of his social circle. When he found himself guffawing at a three-second clip of a screaming frog, Philip realized he definitely wasn’t. Maybe that was okay, though. Maybe he had judged his friends too harshly earlier. Being ‘professional’ and ‘adult’ was soul-suckingly boring; there was nothing wrong with keeping a youthful sense of humour.

It was nearly five in the morning by the time Philip finally nodded off, and he groaned in dismay when his seven-thirty alarm started blaring. He should probably have gotten up earlier, to be honest; the pep rally started at nine, and he still needed to shower, eat, and walk to campus. He had thought that two and a half miles would be plenty close enough to live, but as it turns out, that’s still a pretty decent distance without a car. To be fair, Philip technically had a car. There was a vehicle registered to him, and it was parked outside the apartment. He owned the keys, and even remembered where he had left them. However, the car was older than Philip and ran about as well as an arthritic old man. It guzzled gas like no tomorrow, and didn’t even start half the time. Going anywhere less than five miles away just wasn’t worth firing it up.

By the time he had clean hair, pants on, and food in his stomach, it was already eight fifteen. Philip glanced at his phone in desperation, hoping maybe if he stared at the clock hard enough, it would rewind a ways. The clock, of course, did no such thing, simply moving on to eight sixteen as if to tell him, “Nice try, moron. Now run, or you’re gonna be late.” Philip sighed, grabbing his bag and hurrying out the front door.

The clock read 8:57 by the time he reached campus, and it was actually about five past nine when Philip finally got into the gym. Luckily, the band was blaring and the students were cheering, so it wasn’t too hard for one small guy to sneak in unnoticed. He found space to sit near the top of the bleachers, and perched on the edge of the bench. The height was a little daunting, especially since the bleachers were old and none too sturdy, but he tried to focus on the celebration below. Running a hand nervously through his hair, Philip hummed his way through the school song, realizing in the process that he didn’t know the lyrics to save his life. He probably should’ve learned them before showing up, but it was a little late for that now. However, most of the students did know the song, and their belting voices drowned out his incompetence.

When the song was over, the cheerleaders came out to do a routine, and Philip found himself struggling to focus. His mind was on Lucien again, and the height of the bleachers was really starting to bother him. Every time he looked down, his head started to spin, and about halfway through the rally, he gave up, climbing to his feet and shuffling back down the stairs. His hand cinched tightly to the railing the whole way, as he didn’t trust his wobbling legs to keep him upright. Once he was outside and on level ground, Philip managed to calm down a bit, sinking down on a bench outside the gymnasium. He checked his phone to see what time it was. 9:45. The induction ceremony wasn’t till eleven, so he had a bit to relax and compose himself.

He pulled out his phone, grabbing headphones from his bag. Listening to music always helped him relax, and his favourite band had recently put out a new album. He leaned back against the brick exterior of the gym, breathing in the cool morning air. Today was a good day. Today was an important day. He was going to be inducted, officially made part of the Elk Grove family. He was going to be a Stag, and today he’d get his honorary antlers. As silly as the mascot implementation seemed, Elk Grove had a strong school spirit, and the Stag Family was a big part of it. They may not be a big school, but they were a tight-knit one, and fiercely loyal to boot. Being a Stag wasn’t something you grew out of upon retirement or graduation, it was a title for life.

Music in his ears and a quiet breeze rustling his hair, Philip zoned out, the serenity of a tranquil fall morning sucking all the anxiety right out of him. The induction ceremony had initially seemed intimidating - the whole school watching while you made your rite of passage, going from an outsider to one of them - but now, he couldn’t wait. He had always been a bit of an outsider as a kid; small, scatterbrained, and goofy, he didn’t fit in with the athletes, the nerds, or the popular kids. This was finally a place where he could belong and be welcomed with open arms.

[mysynthfetish]

ONDEKOZA again.

So lemme just start by saying this is the second attempt at thumbfucking this post out on my phone in the Stumblr app. First time I was almost all the way through the post when I dipped out to grab a link to a video and when I flipped back to this app guess what, fucking post had fucked off into fuck knows where. Pissed. Me. Off. Anyway.

Exactly one month ago I was visited by opportunity in the form of a Saturday work day which I was told at the last minute (on Friday) that I didn’t actually need to attend. Mental wheels started frantically spinning. What was it that I had thought about doing or going to but in the end gave up on the idea because of travel time and difficulty finding a place to stay... oh shit yeah, Ondekoza is playing kinda sorta nearby. Righty-O then. I immediately got busy contacting the boss (this woman I live with who is the mother of our children) and asked her if she minded if I took the car and fugged off for the weekend. She was like “how soon can you be gone?” Hahaha no not really. She just said sure go ahead just be careful. Then I got in touch with Naoto, the one member of Ondekoza who I talk with regularly, and asked if it’d be ok for me to drive out and stay with them and help set up and tear down for their show and whatever. A positive reply came rather quickly so a last minute plan came together and Saturday morning off I went.

They were doing workshops and fun things, as well as playing a full concert (outdoors, on a stage set up in the middle of a terraced rice field area) to bring a week-long artsyfartsy event to a close. What was the event called again? Something like Umi-no-Stage 2019 (Umi means ocean, sea or beach), featuring workshops and performances by mostly off the wall/weirdo/wacky artists (right up my alley) held in a wee rustic hamlet (so small it’s almost not on maps) called Tagarasu (literally means Rice Field Crow, I dig it) near Obama City (yes, they made a big deal outta that when Drumpf’s predecessor was in office), in Fukui Prefecture (not “fuckyouey” hahaha no, “fooh-kooh-wee”) on the Sea of Japan side. Enough parentheses in that last sentence for you? Hehe. So as you can see on the map, google maps said it would be a two hour drive if I took the non-toll roads. Lemme tell you, freeways are anything but free here. The routes on the left and right on that map had tolls of $40 and $50 each, one way, so I was like the hell with that. It was an easy drive anyway once I got out of the urban sprawl and traffic jam factory of Kyoto City itself. Then it was twisty mountain roads, fresh, cool air, and scenic routes through mountain forests and alongside rivers in valleys. I thought it quite ironic and a helluva coincidence that I ended up driving the westernmost length of a road which I had ran the easternmost part of a few weeks prior on an overnighter with the third graders for work. Here’s a shot of the road sign:

ACCIIIIIIIIIIEEED!!!!!! So before I knew it I arrived in one piece, parked at a beach access parking lot that said “$10 a day, pay at the front” but I was like “I’m with Ondekoza, can I park here? Oh by the way do you know which house they’re in right now?” And the confused looking lady in charge grabbed a guy who was event staff and had him take me to where I needed to go, and in the end I found out that the fee is for people who want to go fishing out on the breakwaters there so whatever.

No sooner had I walked in the door and exchanged greetings than they tell me “we’ve got a job for you today.” Cool. I thought they’d ask me to write up something in English, or maybe do some lettering like make a sign or something, chalk art, whatever. Nope. “We want you to play shime-daiko for a five minute or so attention-getter we’re gonna play to fire people up for tomorrow’s show. It’s a mashup of Utsu Hachijo and Yatai Bayashi. Cool?” Jeeeeezus are you kidding me? Yeah ok I’m familiar with those pieces but it’s been ages, literally 27 years since I practiced them with the then-members of Ondekoza when they came to my hometown and stayed a few weeks during the latter part of their America Marathon Tour (I think maybe it was called the Odyssey tour?). Anyway. Moro-kun (the newest/youngest member?) and I sit down and start brainstorming. We talk out the arrangement of the piece and how it will progress, then do a “rehearsal” drumming out our parts on the table there. All was good. He was sweating bullets, really nervous about the whole thing. I was like “when are we supposed to do this?” And he said “in about half an hour.” HOLY SHIT FOR REAL?! Yikes. Ok ok ok, let’s run through this one more time, cool? We did. No problem. Moro-kun was still a bundle of nerves. I was like “Right. We got this. Let’s go! It’ll all work out in the end.”

Before we were on though, a small, quite out-there modern dance outfit called Monochrome Circus put on a performance at the hamlet’s shrine, so we hit that on our way. Here’s a photo of the entrance as seen from the street:

Fantastic atmosphere. The director of the group gave a short introduction, then explained what the first performance would be. In Japan, there’s a super popular style of comic called the yon-koma-manga (four-frame comic strip). Quite like the funnies in the daily newspapers back home actually. They would set a scene somewhere within the shrine grounds, then one person at a time would enter the scene, strike a pose and freeze, until four people had entered and then the audience would be prompted to say “FINISHED!” For the first one, the group members showed what the deal was so everyone would get it. From the second one on, they asked members of the audience to join in. I ran over to the stairs you can see in the photo, whipped out my iPhone and sat down, pretending to be messing with it—an homage to the modern mindless moron that today’s society overflows with so profusely. The second person came and stood behind me looking over my shoulder. I couldn’t see where the third or fourth people ended up. FINISHED!!! This kept on for a few more rounds, then the group did a few dances, which were really nice actually, and not SO out there. Then it was time to go. Righty-O. Let’s go!

Yeah so when we got to the seawall there, I didn’t get stage fright until it was time to take off my shoes and socks and sit down in front of the drum. Biggest goof? Forgetting to take off my damn sunglasses. Duhhhhhh. At least I managed to keep in time and didn’t fuck up disastrously, though the sticks were a helluva lot thicker and longer than the sticks I’m used to (Ondekoza makes all their drumsticks by hand). But it ain’t everyday you get to play with Ondekoza, so I’m glad I had the chance.

After that we just hung out, did dinner, then walked around checking out the sunset.

Not too shabby. In the evening, a wacko but fun group called something like the Tōhoku Six Prefecture Rock-n-rollers gave a show at the same stage Ondekoza would be using the next day so we went and saw that. Fun, crazy shit. Then off to bed.

The next morning we were up by 5:45, and then it was off on the daily 6am run. Everyone split up and went off on their own though and I was like WHAAAT?! So instead of going solo and getting completely the fuck lost, I tagged along with Naoto. What a scenic run! Through tunnels and down twisty roads that hugged the coastal sides of the smallish mountains there. The view was fantastic. We reached a turnaround point and Naoto said “I’ve got breakfast duty so I need to head back.” No problem. I followed him back, then ran an extra 1km and a bit. Still it totalled about 7km, three short of their daily 10km run (they don’t strictly adhere to this distance though, they’ve become a bit more flexible and I don’t think it’s a bad thing—when they were founded and when they ran in the US when I spent time with them they all ran together as a group but not anymore). Shower, breakfast, then a full-on day of setting up. After the setting up part was done, they had a soundcheck and mini rehearsal. I snapped this photo while that was going on.

What a place. Beautiful. Absolute nightmare for music though, as far as acoustics are concerned. But it all worked out. Two o’clock arrived and concertgoers started mozying in. We retreated to a large tent that was set up as a dressing room. They changed into their performing outfits, and I just zoned out for a bit. Before they go on, they always do this ritual of making a circle and doing warmup exercises, then adjacent members hold hands, and they do a little pre-game cheer of sorts. I was invited to join in all this so I was pleasantly surprised. Then it was GAME ON!!! I shot video of the whole show, and here’s a photo from Instagram of them playing Ōdaiko with me at the right shooting video.

Hahaa a cameo. Gimme a break. Anyway I’ll put a link to the video here in a sec but I just want to say they told the audience that video and photos were prohibited, so I set the video to “unlisted” and the only way to see it is if you have the link. They don’t really mind people seeing the video, it’s more a concern about people taking photos or video and then trying to sell it. Right then, here you go:

It’s about an hour twenty minutes or so. Hope you have nice speakers too. Yeah. So it was a fantastic show in an idyllic, beautiful environment. Then it was time to tear down and pack up. We had quite a bit of help this time so it was over within about an hour. Then they were gonna drive north along the Sea of Japan, heading to catch a ferry way up in Aomori, on their way to their annual Hokkaidō camp and concert, before heading off to a two week stint in China. I said a sincere thanks for being allowed to tag along, let them know that I really appreciated it, and then the director (Mr Matsuda) said “C’mon, you’re family! And besides that, you get shit done! Having you here was a huge help and it’s you who should be thanked.” I was floored. Did not expect to be told that. Wow. So it was in very high spirits thst I made the drive back home, arriving safely, but still full of adrenaline. What a weekend.

The next time I’ll get to fool around with them will be in September when they’ll be in Nagoya for a concert. I’m cooking up a plan to design and have vinyl stickers made for them to sell at shows and events while I’m back in the US this summer. 123stickers.com man, vinyl fucking stickers for reasonable prices and the damn things last forever. I’ve slapped a shitload of small ones here and there around Osaka and Kyoto over the years and they’re still there, in great shape. Graffiti background bared for all to see huh? Hahaha. Anyway. That’s all I have to say about that!

[whimzea-blog]

Day to Night 1/2

Title: Day to Night

Author: whimzea

Pairing: Zane/Heath

Summary: Heath and Zane's Valentine's Day is very different than last year's.

Also up on AO3 here. (I needed a break from Better than Sex, so...yeah. Here dis.)

***

February 10

Zane and Heath were at Todd's house. They had just filmed a bit with Scotty, who had kicked them out of his room as soon as they had finished so he could edit.

It's not you, it's content, he had said before slamming the door in their face.

Youtubers.

"Hey, remember last year, on Valentine's Day, when we hung out at the apartment? That was fun, right?"

Heath was sitting on the counter now, eating an apple. Zane was in perfect range to get sprayed with Red Delicious as he asked the question. He grimaced.

"You guys gonna do that again this year?" Todd asked, wiping his face with a towel. He had just come back from a run, had stripped his t-shirt off, and was drinking a protein shake while sweat clung to his perfect body. Zane hated him.

"I mean, yeah? We don't have any girls to spend it with," Heath answered. He didn't look at Zane.

Technically, Heath was right. Neither he nor Zane had a girlfriend this year. He didn't mention that he and Zane happened to be dating each other, but they were still very on the down-low. Only one person in the whole world knew, and only because he had walked in on them fooling around in Heath's bedroom.

Poor Kam.

And guys didn't go out for Valentine's Day with each other, anyways...did they? Zane didn't know very many gay guys to ask.

Valentine's Day had always seemed like it was meant for girls, with the flowers and whatnot. What the fuck did he care about roses and candles?

He could fuck with chocolates, though.

"Aw, well, I'm sure you guys will have fun," Todd said, polishing off his shake.

"What about you? You want in? Boys' night?" Heath asked, his voice hopeful.

"I have a girlfriend, bro."

"Oh yeah." None of them had ever seen Todd's girlfriend, but he assured them that she was very real. Zane and Heath had theories to the contrary, but that was for another time.

Heath chewed thoughtfully. "What about Jay?"

"Girlfriend," Zane and Todd answered in unison.

"Joe?"

"Girlfriend."

"Dommy D?"

"Girlfriend."

Heath thought harder. Scott, David, Kam, Jason, fuck, even Alex Ernst all had girlfriends now. Gabbie, Carly, and Erin were all seeing someone. Elijah and Christine were in London.

"Durte Dom?" Heath said hesitantly.

"Fuck no," Zane said immediately. He hated that kid. If there was one way to make your subscriber count go down...plus, he was fucking gross.

Heath opened his mouth to speak a couple more times, but closed it each time. Zane couldn't think of anyone else, either.

"Well, looks like it's going to be Coffee Talk: Valentine's Day Edition," Todd said, shrugging. "Could be worse."

He saluted them and walked off to his room. Heath sighed.

"You don't have to sound so fuckin' disappointed," Zane said, punching Heath lightly in the arm. "We'll have a good time."

Heath rolled his eyes and grabbed the keys to his new truck, jumping off the counter. "Have to spend every other day with your scraggly ass, and now Valentine's Day too."

Zane watched Heath walk to the front door. He didn't know whether or not his feelings should be hurt.

Heath turned when he realized Zane wasn't following him. "Let's go get coffee, bitch."

Zane grinned. He guessed not.

******

February 14

Zane's eyes blinked open.

Sun was streaming through his bedroom window, a cool California breeze following it in. Game of Thrones was still playing on the TV from their marathon last night. It was unlike them to fall asleep during their favorite show, but yesterday had been brutal. Zane guessed they had probably filmed twelve hours total.

He looked down. Heath was curled against his side, one of his arms thrown over his chest, his head tucked almost into his armpit. He was snoring.

Zane looked at his watch. 9:30am. Thirty more minutes, and then he'd get up. Get Heath up. But for now, he was cozy as fuck.

He wrapped his arm around Heath and pulled him closer to his side. He let his hand settle on the small of Heath's back, under his shirt.

BANG BANG BANG.

Heath was startled awake, sitting up fast and looking wildly around him.

Zane sighed. So much for thirty more minutes.

"You homos decent?" Kam shouted through the door, banging on it a few more times.

"Yeah," Zane called after a few seconds, sitting up. Heath rubbed his eyes violently with his fists, trying to become conscious.

Kam barged in, a bag thrown over his shoulder. "So Meghan and I are going to Palm Springs last minute. Won't be back until tomorrow night. Make sure you water my plants- it's Saturday."

Zane managed to nod. Heath was staring at Kam, unable to figure out how someone could have that much energy.

Ten seconds later Kam slammed the front door behind him, leaving Zane and Heath alone in an empty apartment for the next 36 hours.

This occurred to Zane as Heath flopped back down on the bed, groaning.

"Fuckin' asshole, coulda just texted us that instead of waking us up." Heath grabbed the fleece blanket at the edge of the bed and wrapped it around himself, rolling over a few times to make himself into a blanket burrito.

Zane knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. He was energized, all of a sudden. The whole apartment, all to themselves. Complete privacy. For once.

Zane padded out to the kitchen and put on the coffee before heading to the bathroom. He showered quickly, avoiding the itching feeling he had to put a hand on his dick. Not yet.

It wasn't until he was dressed, swiping through the notifications on his phone waiting for his toast to be ready when he remembered that it was Valentine's Day.

It was why they had spent twelve hours filming yesterday, trying to get everyone's vlogs shot so they didn't have to work today. But Zane and Heath hadn't talked about after that time in Todd's kitchen, and it wasn't truly on his radar.

Except now, seeing everyone's cute posts, it sort of was. He wondered if Heath remembered.

He poured a cup of coffee for Heath, fixing it all up, before bringing it into his bedroom. Heath was snoring again, still wrapped up in his blanket.

Zane shook Heath's shoulder until the other man woke. Heath whined.

"Coffee," Zane offered, holding it under Heath's nose.

Heath reluctantly opened one eye, then the other, and set up, wrestling with the blanket to free his arms. He accepted the coffee and took a sip.

"Mmmm." That was about as articulate Zane expected him to be, so he turned to leave to go water the plants while Heath became a real person. But Heath grabbed on to his hand before he could go, tugging on it.

"Yes?"

Heath didn't respond, but after glancing out the open bedroom door into the very empty apartment, turned back to Zane and gave him what Zane had come to know as Heath's "I want you to kiss me" face. It strangely did not really involve his lips, but was all in his eyes.

Zane obliged, leaning down to place a soft kiss on Heath's lips. Zane knew better than to attempt to give Heath a proper kiss, as his morning breath was absolutely atrocious (even covered up by coffee) but it seemed to do the trick. Heath smiled and continued to sip.

*****

Two hours later Zane was sitting on the couch editing when Heath, freshly showered and dressed, joined him.

For a Saturday, it had already been productive as fuck. Zane had eaten breakfast, watered the plants, had clean clothes spinning in the dryer, and had made significant progress on editing Monday's vlog. So when Heath sat beside him and nuzzled into his neck, he didn't feel bad about shutting the computer, setting it aside, and pulling Heath into his arms.

Heath was considerably lighter since finally getting on board with Kam's healthy eating suggestions, and it was much easier to get him settled comfortably facing Zane, straddling Zane's lap, his arms wrapped around Zane's neck.

Now that Heath's breath smelled like Colgate and not ass, Zane kissed him with gusto. He ran his hands along Heath's flanks and back under his shirt, letting Heath explore his mouth with his tongue. Zane marveled at the emptiness of their apartment, how the only thing he could hear was the sound of their lips meeting and Heath's soft moans of pleasure.

For once, their kisses weren’t frantic. They were long and deep and left Zane totally breathless, and Heath’s lips swollen and bruised. He could take his time to suck on the spot below Heath’s ear (and Todd could be damned, because his neck kissed gave Heath way more than the heebie jeebies) his collarbone, his throat.

Heath leaned back, sliding his hands under Zane’s t-shirt and lifting it up past his pecs. He whined, tugging on it, and Zane followed orders, lifting his arms so Heath could pull the shirt over Zane’s head and fling it on the other side of the couch. Heath tugged off his own shirt and pressed his chest into Zane’s, kissing him and rubbing against him like a cat.

Zane had been amused to learn that Heath was obsessed with his body hair. The way he had found out, though, had been something out of a sitcom.

About a month ago, they had been fooling around in Heath’s bed, and Heath had rubbed against him, much like he was doing now. Zane had been too busy to do any sort of manscaping that month, so he had been approaching Tom Selleck levels of chest hair.

This was not really an issue, usually. Except a month ago, Heath had nipple rings. And nipple rings and long chest hair definitely do not mix.

It wasn’t until Zane had felt a sharp pain near his left nipple that he looked down. Heath tried to pull away, and Zane gasped as he felt the pain again. Heath flopped on top of Zane.

“I think...my nipple ring...is caught in your chest hair.”

“Christ,” Zane said. Then he laughed.

Heath couldn’t help but join, and soon they were a breathless and still giggling, semi-hard and still stuck together.

“Fuck, can we vlog this? This is quality content,” Zane choked out, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Not on your life.” Heath slid a hand between them, and after a few moments and one chest hair ripped out later, they were unstuck.

“Maybe it’s time for me to actually wax...like, everything, not just a strip or two for clickbait,” Zane mused, looking down at his torso.

“No,” Heath said quickly. So quickly that Zane raised an eyebrow, and Heath blushed.

Hmm. Zane filed this information away for future use.

“I mean, that would really hurt, right?” Heath tried, but his argument seemed sort of weak, especially considering that he had already started to play with Zane’s chest hair again.

“Not as much as getting one of our nipples ripped out,” Zane reasoned.

“I’ll just take the rings out. I’m getting tired of them anyway,” Heath offered, still unable to look Zane in the eye.

Zane considered this. While he liked to play with Heath’s rings, and Heath liked to have them play with, it seemed like the hair was the more valuable commodity.

Plus, it would hurt like hell to get waxed.

Now, a month later, with Heath pressed impossibly close, Zane appreciated Heath’s sacrifice even more.

Zane slid his hands down the back of Heath’s shorts and into his Hanes, grabbing two handfuls of ass. Zane could feel Heath’s cock jump at the touch, and his own hard cock was pleased to feel Heath’s hands at his fly, trying to undo his zipper.

Zane had a mind to pick Heath up and haul him to the bedroom…

...when his phone rang.

“Ignore it,” Heath breathed into his ear as he finally pulled out Zane’s dick from his pants, giving it a nice hard stroke.

“Nnghhh,” Zane responded articulately.

Heath was in full-on sex kitten mode now, slipping off Zane’s lap so he could kneel in front of him. Heath licked his lips before pulling Zane forward, settling in between his legs so he could get his mouth on Zane’s cock.

“Fuck,” Zane groaned. He looked down. The visual was extraordinary. Zane’s cock was an average length, but it was thick, and Heath’s lips stretched perfectly over it, taking it all, tasting it all, wrecking Zane with his tongue.

Zane again thought about moving this into the bedroom, but there was no way he was gonna interrupt this for one fucking second. It was too good. When did Heath get so good at sucking cock?

Thirty seconds later, his phone rang again.

“Come on,” Zane whined, frustrated.

Heath pulled off Zane’s cock with a pop. “Ignore it.”

“I can’t. It might be my mom. She usually won’t stop if it’s something important.”

Heath sighed and sat back on his haunches while Zane dug in his pocket to retrieve his phone.

“It’s David.”

Heath rolled his eyes. “Typical. Ignore it.”

Zane hesitated. “Baby, we don’t make enough money on our own to ignore a call from David Dobrik.”

Heath couldn’t argue with that. Zane answered the phone. “Yeah?”

Heath looked longingly at Zane’s cock. Well, he didn’t have to talk, right?

“I mean, yeah, I guess we can but I thought - oh fuck-” Zane gasped. Heath grinned around his cock.

“Oh, I just, stubbed my toe, walking around. You know how I am,” Zane said, laughing awkwardly. Zane gave Heath a “you fucking bitch” look, but Heath just shrugged.

“Yeah, yeah, um, we’ll be there. Sure. Gotta go. Bye.” Zane hung up and exhaled, tangling his fingers in Heath’s hair.

“You’re gonna kill me,” Zane groaned. Heath hummed, sending lovely vibrations through his dick. He shuddered.

Ten minutes later, and he was in nirvana. This was by far the best head he had ever gotten, and from a man who had only sucked a cock three times in his life.

He guessed this was just one of Heath’s many hidden talents.

Or he just really liked Heath. And Heath’s mouth. But mostly Heath.

“Gonna come,” he breathed, but Heath continued on as he was. His orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks, and he pumped into Heath’s mouth for what seemed like an eternity.

“Jesus fuck,” he sighed, collapsing back onto the sofa. Heath smiled smugly and wiped his mouth.

“So, what did David want?”

[weightloss18-blog1]

The 5 BEST Fat Burning Exercises FOR MEN! (LOSE WEIGHT FAST!)

New Post has been published on https://designweightloss.com/the-5-best-fat-burning-exercises-for-men-lose-weight-fast/

The 5 BEST Fat Burning Exercises FOR MEN! (LOSE WEIGHT FAST!)

What's up Champ! I'm Vince Del Monte of GeneExpressionTrainingcom In this workout I'm gonna show you the 5 most effective fat burning exercises for men

Alright We're gonna turn this into one of my favorite go-to workouts when I want to shred fat without a lot of time This is something I've been doing for years I've been teaching this for years and they're called Barbell Complexes Alright

Just becauses it's called complexes doesn't mean it's complicated It's actually quite simple but I will say it's very, very hard It's gonna make you sweat like never before, you're gonna suck for air, your muscles are gonna scream Your heart's gonna jump out of your chest You are gonna be in the hurt box So as long as you're committed to putting yourself into the hurt box for 10 to 20 minutes at a time, you will shred fat faster than ever before

Alright You're gonna increase your metabolic rate, you're gonna burn more energy during the workout and after the workout You're not gonna destroy your joints walking away on a treadmill or step mill or an elliptical Which is frankly just a waste of life And this is not only gonna make you look like a badass, it's gonna make you feel like a badass

I'm gonna take you through the workout and I'm just gonna walk you through the exercises and how it's done and how progress it Alright Let's get started Exercise number 1 is a Military Press In other words, an Overhead Shoulder Press with a barbell

Alright We're gonna be using this weight for the entire workout I'll tell you how to pick your weight in a second We want to keep our core strong, we want to drive our feet through the ground and we're focusing on being strong and explosive here This is not a workout where we're focusing on intent and really squeezing the muscle

Exercise number 2 is front squats If you have the flexibility, you want to put this onto your shoulders without re-racking it how I did and then it off I just don't have the flexibility to do that Front squats here for 7 reps Alright After you've done 7 front squats, you are going to flip the bar and go into bent over rows

We are doing these for 8 reps Alright After 8 Bent Over Rows with an overhand grip, again, you see how I haven't changed my grip at all, we're going right into Deadlifts We are doing 9 Deadlifts Alright And we're just bringing the bar a little below the knees so we can create more tension on the muscles So we're not setting the bar down, and pulling it back up

From 9 Deadlifts we're going to 10 Back Squats You're gonna flip the bar up over your head Be careful here This will be the toughest part of the workout and you're gonna go into 10 Back Squats Once you've done that, you've completed 1 round in the workout

The sequence of those exercises is critical If you change the order of those exercises, you're gonna pay for it Alright We're focusing on the weaker body parts to the stronger body parts They were sequenced on purpose

A lot of people that write complex workouts, I've seem them like how the heck, this doesn't make any sense Alright

When you do this workout, you'll see, "Oh, OK I see why you do Shoulder Press and Front Squats and Bent Over Rows" You'll see why it's sequenced in that order Okay It accommodates fatigue setting in from the smaller muscle groups Alright You'll also notice that we're increasing the reps with each exercise so it goes six, seven, eight, nine, ten, and then repeat

Alright what we want to focus on doing within the fixed amount of time is getting stronger Arlight The goal is not to do these for 30, 40, 50 minutes We want to act like a sprinter

We want to focus on getting faster We don't want to turn ourselves into a marathon runner and become efficient We want to be inefficient That's why the goal is to add more weight each week so a lot of you guys who've never done these before, will start off with 65 or 75 pounds as a male Alright

You're gonna add 10 pounds to the bar each week The time never changes You're always going to do 20 minutes But what I want you to focus on doing is doing more rounds in 20 minutes with more weight That's your challenge

I'll just give you guys a benchmark What I did myself I ended these springtime yeaah right around springtime, yeah about spring / summertime I did an 8 week cycle with these and I got up to 115 pounds so the weight you see me doing in this video for 10 rounds in 28 minutes

So if you can beat that, you're better than me So there's a little challenge for you A lot of people ask me "hey how many rounds is good in 20 minutes" At least 10 Alright At least 10 rounds

Now for me, it took me a little longer, so I've got a lot of rom where I can improve I'm going to try to bring that down, but you'll see for yourself it's pretty, pretty, tough Alright So start with 20 minutes Aim for 10 rounds

That might take you 8 – 16 weeks Alright As long as you're making progress each week, you will be losing fat and this is really going to crank up your metabolism it's gonna help you keep muscle mass as you're shredding fat, it's gonna make you look harder, its gonna give you a more sculpted physique, it's going to give you an opportunity to rehearse some key exercises, and these things are really good for managing stress A lot of people who can't lose fat, they're doing too much cardio It increases cortisol levels

Bringing in shorter, more intense workouts helps manage cortisol better, help you maintain testosterone levels So this is, this style of workout is the entire premise of an entire program I've actually created It's called Shredded in Six and it's just a series of Barbell Complex Workouts like this plus strength circuit workouts which are a little different and I'll show you guys in another video that teach you how to shred fat with weights in a very short period of time And that way you can stop going on the treadmill for 20 – 30 minutes after your weight training sessions or going to the gym early in the morning to do cardio I'm telling you guys that the more cardio you do, the more efficient you'll make your body at storing fat and utilzing less fat per unit of time Alright The research, the physiology on this is very, very clear

Alright We always want to train our body to become inefficient Alright We're always trying to make the workouts harder, we're always trying to do more in less time that's the mindset you have when you're trying to sculpt your physique Alright

Unless you're an endurance runner and going for performance, the rules change But if you're looking for a sculpted physique, you've got to start doing complexes once per week on a Saturday You don't need to do more than once per week If you can do more than once per week, you're not doing the properly, alright, you're sandbagging it so step it up, get the weight up a little more, and these will put you on the floor Alright

A lot of people do two, three rounds and they're like holy crap, I'm gassed Build up to ten rounds It's gonna take time, but once you do, you'll look like a badass, you'll feel like a badass, that's my challenge to you If you want the entire Shredded in Six System where there's over 12 months of workouts like this click the first link in the description or the link on the screen, and you'll be taken to a short page which will tell you more about the effectiveness these brief but brutal non-cardio fat loss workouts Alright Thank you so much for watching Let me know what you guys want me to cover in upcoming videos comment section below If you enjoyed that

If you're gonna give it a try, give this video a thumbs up Thanks for watching See you soon

Source: Youtube

[chaneljoyce]

Unit 2 Essay- Leveled

A mass of black and gold storms the turf. ‘Back in Black’ courses through the veins of every being within Kinnick Stadium. Fans are losing their voices screaming at the team. It’s game day. For the seniors, they try to cling to the field, close their eyes to let the humming of the fanfare enter their bones. The sophomores and juniors try and keep their cool; they’re on a Big 10 football team. This is the dream. Even as a bench player, anyone knows how to spot one of them on campus. They all have the signature black backpack with a tigerhawk on the back. The sport is printed under the tigerhawk: Football. Each individual player’s number is printed under. To top it off, a tag with their name, sport, and number hangs from the bottom. Athletes are easily spotted; the university wants to make them perfectly visible and have the entire campus recognize them as such.

The football players’ numbers are easily recognizable, and the first string players are akin to celebrity status. Their faces flash on the screen before kickoff, on calendars, and in every single promotional advertisement of Iowa. They are synonymous with Herky and the Old Capitol; they are the face of Iowa. While fellow students clamor to get the classes they need to graduate, the athletes are welcomed with a barren playground where there are no worries. Classes are empty just waiting for them to get their pick of the litter.

They came to Iowa for the sport they played, but also for the education they are blessed to save on. Scholarships stack on top of each other, and a burden left on the rest is lifted. Only what other students dream of and apply for for hours on end, they earn through their skills.

Trombone in hand. Flute. Drums. They are the backbone of the game. They make it. They know all the chants, how to act during a field goal when the Hawks are giving, and when the opposition is. If the team does well, the band travels with them. They are the marching band, largely overrated, but greatly appreciated by those who understand. They make halftime. They are the crusaders of the student section. Without them, the student section is misguided, messy, and devolve into anarchy. The band orchestrates them all. Every chant. Every cheer. Every boo. They wait for their okay, a cue to start. They’re the puppet masters, and everyone follows suit.

The student section. Bibs. Black and gold. Pride is the only emotion they feel. They are a student at the University of Iowa, and get to call the great IC home. They make a blow out feel like a championship, and a high scoring game like the Super Bowl. Instagram becomes plastered with posts about football season being their favorite, and how they tailgate harder than you party. High school seems eons ago, because that was nothing compared to the present. There was no ‘Crazy Town’ sing along at third down. ‘Back in Black’. Hype video before fourth quarter.

Lime green socks adon several students’ shoes. They’re involved in Dance Marathon, the biggest student organization on campus. This season, a new tradition began. After first quarter, the stadium turns to the hospital quite literally across the street from the stadium’s main entrance and wave to the kiddos on the top floor. The dancers were ecstatic to hear of this tradition, and ready to spread their love of Dance Marathon throughout the stadium.

Security keep their post around the stands and on the field attempting to curb the crowd. Everyone’s safety is in their hands; they reinforce the rules everyone attempts to dodge. They are paid to enforce informal laws, but are key in upkeeping Kinnick’s reputation and fans safe. They receive compensation not only for checking bags and keeping fans off the field, but get to watch the game like any other Hawkeye fan. The fans are safe, and they hold a form of valor if only for the duration of the game.

The coveted press box. The pristine bird’s eye view of the game, the way to watch a game so many people envy. Alec Giannakopolous joined KRUI as a freshman, and worked his way up to calling football games, his first being the home opener of the undefeated season. Before calling North Texas, the second game of the season, he sat at home watching the wave in awe. He recalls, “I didn’t think it would be as big a deal as it was, though. I didn’t think everyone would do it. You hear someone say something, ‘hey we’re gonna do this’, then the game happens and you don’t. To imagine the whole stadium do that at one time, it’s kind of incredible.” In his call of the game, he gave the backstory of Dance Marathon and let the sound of the stadium carry the broadcast. In his final year, he got to see a beautiful tradition, and he was on the radio to witness it.

He describes his view as the “second best view of it”. To watch from a bird’s eye view overseeing the fanfare is incredible, and an out of world experience for any average Joe. The wave is all in one direction, and there is the view on the top floor. The kids stand at the windows, waving down at thousands of Hawkeye fans, unbeknownst to them, they have their full support. The kids also wear black and gold just as if they were down below, and wave at every single person waving up at them. Their parents carry them so they can see better or hold their hand narrating what’s going on. Not only does Dance Marathon’s support for them overflow throughout the year, the whole community unifies as one after first quarter.

Iowa loves those kids. FTK is splattered across campus, backpacks, water bottles, T-shirts, and anything in between. They dance for twenty-hours, but can and fundraise all summer and school year long just to see a cure. Each family is rolled into one, and rolled into each family of every dancer. The hospital is one of the best in state, and specializes in pediatric oncology at that. The fanfare has finally found a purpose; it is all for these families who are held at the utmost nobility in Iowa City.

Showered in preferential treatment and scholarships, the players are the creators of the fanfare, the masterminds behind the magic. They work for the school, they work for the fans, and there is a question as to whether they should be paid.

The band is overlooked, underappreciated, and misunderstood. They create the fanfare, but only bounce off of what the team can give them. They are not as privy to the woes of the school, but more replaceable, and less valuable. They do not receive the same respect; they have no nobility compared to the team, though they may work side by side.

Hawkeye vodka is the worst thing on Earth. The student section is a product of a liquor store, and everyone’s words are slurred. Tailgating is a bigger culture than football, and all the Instagram captions are lies. Football season may be best season, but tailgating will always take precedent. Papers are due on Monday, and tests are on Tuesdays, but a handle of Hawkeye makes it all go away. Tailgating is the new deflection; it’s the newest craze to avoid responsibility.

The security guards are usually students who needed money and sacrificed their Saturday for everyone else. Their role is to only make sure drunk kids don’t die, and to get yelled at by middle aged moms with purses that are too big to go inside Kinnick. People try to take pictures on the field, and they get called dicks by someone whose breath smells like jungle juice. It’s especially worse when the crowd storms the field; they keep people from jumping on the goal posts even though it is futile.

“If you’re ever in a press box, the first rule is there’s no cheering in the press box. You do not cheer in the press box. … It’s unprofessional,” Alec explains. To think of football without screaming and cursing is to think of Iowa without corn. College students are forced to abandon instinct, much less, a football fan forgetting to act in their normal fashion. There is no place for being a fan in the press box. It is a necessary evil, but so contradictory to what it’s thought to be.

Standing at what seems to be the top of the world is actually the bottom of the totem pole. It’s symbolic in nature, to have a gesture where everyone stands in solidarity to support these families. It is not the glitz and glam and fanfare; it is reality for them daily. Any parent’s worst nightmare has come true; there is no beauty. There is beauty in the support, and beauty in hope, but there is no beauty in blind support or blind bandwagoning. They may sit at the top of Kinnick with the best view, but it is only on game day that this is the case.

Game day is a holiday, and each player has their role. The reality of it all is football may be more than two teams trying to score more than the other.

[gogohedgehoglegs]

Walkway Marathon

Walkway Marathon June 11, 2017

Back for round 3!  So remember how last month, it was raining, and cool enough I actually needed arm sleeves?  Not tooodddddddddaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!! Its one million degrees, or at least something like that.  Thankfully I knew it was gonna be a hot one, so started drinking nuun saturday morning when I woke up, and kept that up the whole 24 hours until the race.  Drove over to Poughkeepsie on saturday, and Saturday was filled with fun stuff, lole shopping for wedding shower presents and general wandering, and picked up the bib.  I was surprised since bib pickup is required, but there wasn't an expo this year like there had been previously, so it was actually rather in and out.  If its essentially required to have bib pickup the day before(there is early morning packet pickup, but not convenient since there are shuttles involved to get to the parking, which is off campus, so what do you do with your shirt?), id like to see a little incentive to be there, and not sure why, since there had been the 2 previous years.

Dinner the night before was one of my 2 go-to's- sushi(vegetarian) this time!  Between the salt from the soy sauce and all the rice, its got the easy to digest things plus lots of salt.  Morning came quickly, since the race has a 7am start time, meaning need to be up with the chickens to eat.  Knowing it was going to be hot, the ritual was not unlike the ritual for last months- lots of aquaphor, body glide, and ride glide in all the known chafe areas.

Got over to the parking area near Marist with plenty of time, procrastinated in the car for a bit, then hopped the bus to head down there.  Previously there had been on campus parking, but the route was change this year because 1) people weren't fans of the supercrazy uphill right at the start 2) most runners apparently wanted the Walkway early in the race and 3) the Ulster rail trail side is closed this year because they are constructing a visitor center on that side, so you cant have a race going as far as it normally does.  Pre-race I just hung out of the portalet lines, watched the flyover by some classic bi-planes, and then it was time to line up and head out.

I have to say, I think this was the first time I have truly given up on any goals other than “finish,” since I have started running races.  With a start temp of 70, and rising from there, there just wasn't any point in putting myself at risk.  And just a sidenote at this point- one of my favorite things about this race is that in addition to water and Gatorade on course, they also have Nuun, for us of the weeny-stomach variety.

So the new course now winds gently through campus(uphill, but over a longer duration), before heading out for the tunnel under Rt 9, out of campus, and onto Fulton Ave to cut over to the Rail Trail, this time hopping on and heading toward the Walkway, with a much larger crowd than I'm used to since the Half and Full start together.  Along the rail trail, over the Walkway(its always pretty, and the breeze feels good), to the turn around right at the gate on the Highland side, and then back across the Walkway to head down the Dutchess Rail Trail for the remaining portion of the race.  Its warm, but apparently drinking nothing but Nuun for 24 hours helped, because I hold sub 8:30 splits through 12 miles, and probably the tree coverage is helping, as its keeping the direct, strong, sun off of us, although there's not as much breeze as I would have liked.

(photo credit Bob Kopak)

Once getting onto the Rail Trail I run with an half marathoner for a brief period of time, we trade a few war stories about warm races, she is one of many that I talked to that said after the warmth the last 2 years, she opted for only the half instead of the full, which is apparently a theme, since I was one of 187 full marathoners that finished(not sure how many started, but I was bib 198, so I'm going to guess somewhere between 200 and 250 actually started the race), as opposed to the 256 in 2016, and the 283 that finished in 2015.

(PS if you forget little baggies, your dogs poo bags work just as well so you can open the waffles ahead of time)

One of the most wonderful moments of the race(and it happened twice!!), was the angel who was out just north of where the trail crosses 55, where there's always a motorcycle training class during the race, is a woman! And not just any woman! But a woman who's got a whole cooler filled with ice! In little ziplock baggies!  I thank her profusely, take the baggy, stuff it in the front of my bra, and then proceed to pull the ice cubes(theyre the fun tube round ones) and suck on them one at a time until they're all gone/melted, and then drop the bag at one of the next water stops. Sometime around the Rt 55 crossing, I end up with another runner whos on the same pace with me, and then we adopt another woman who was going to pace her boyfriend, but he had actually decided to drop out at the point he was meeting her.  While there are signs noting there's a race going on, they actually don't have the rail trail closed, so shes runs along with us for a bit, and, since shes not racing, refuses offers for water at all the stops we pass and makes it clear shes not part of the race.  Just after the turn around at Mile 15, the 2 of them pull away from me, because I'm getting kinda tired. Heading back along the Rail Trail toward Marist, I have to admit, I'm kindof glad my parents didn't come out to cheer me at the point that's closest to their house, because I feel like it would have been way too easy to just hop off the course and go home.

Around Mile 17 I start walking through waterstops, taking both a cup of water and a cup of Nuun- fueling is continuing to go well, but I'm not taking any chances, because its HOT.  Crossing over Rt 55, the rail trail is actually elevated to cross over, so there's a great breeze on the bridge.  I stop and walk, just letting it blow all around me and cool me off.  Back along the trail, until about Mile 24, which is nice, because it truly means you are almost done when you hop back onto the roads to head back to Marist.  Although, having said that, they do seem like a long 2 miles, because there's a bunch of turns and landmarks along this part, so you cant really zone out and then suddenly realize you're gone 2 miles.  

{photo credit Donald Byfield}

But finally comes the turns onto campus, down a hill, under and through the tunnel, meadering through campus, up a hill, down a long hill, through the tunnel to the boat house(its really fun to yell while going through here, make sure you do it sometime), and then up the final hill and then down the hill to the finish!

Crazy as it sounds, in the stupid hot heat, I actually managed to better my time from Rhinebeck by the teensiest bit.  I make a mental note to do that more often, but, flashforward, I forget by the next race.

Its funny.  I said after this race that its the first one ive run in a long time with my head actually out of my ass and I needed to write about it so that I can remember I am actually capable or turning off that sick competitive gene, but it still took me forever to post this.  Guess I was waiting to see if the attitude stuck, because I need to learn from this, because life isn't handing me lemons at this point, its handing me rotten moldy lemons that I cant do anything with, and I really really need to learn when I need to throw the lemons out instead of trying to make lemonade with them.

Final Stats:

4:01:01

39/187 overall, 13/77 women, 5/18 F30-39

[flauntpage]

McGregor In Reverse: Boxer Heather Hardy Ready for MMA Debut

Heather Hardy is synonymous with New York's boxing scene.

The 20-0 WBC international featherweight champion is from Brooklyn's Gerritsen Beach, she trains aspiring boxers at the legendary Gleason's Gym in DUMBO, and as a professional boxer, she's built a reputation for selling tickets at nearly all of the city's venues: Coney Island's Ford Amphitheater, B.B. King Blues Club in Times Square, the Roseland Ballroom, and the massive Barclays Center, just to name a few.

Until now, the only notable exception was arguably the world's most famous arena and boxing's Mecca: Madison Square Garden.

The good news is that Hardy will cross MSG off her "to-do" list on Saturday night. The catch is that at 35, the single mother and veteran pugilist will do so by making her mixed martial arts debut in a flyweight match against Alice Yauger (4-5) at Bellator 180.

In moving from boxing to MMA, Hardy didn't exactly become the Neil Armstrong of combat sport crossovers. Holly Holm was famously the first athlete to win titles in both sports. And at the opposite end of the spectrum, UFC superstar Conor McGregor is preparing to make his boxing debut on Aug. 26 against Floyd Mayweather, an undefeated legend and heavy, heavy favorite.

And like McGregor, who's under contract with the UFC and needed president Dana White's go-ahead before finalizing any deal with Mayweather, Hardy had her own red tape and needed approval from notorious boxing promoter Lou DiBella.

DiBella was reluctant at first, but politics helped to force his hand.

When New York became the last state to legalize professional MMA in 2016, the new law came with a major caveat: For every athlete competing in a combat sport, promoters were required to provide $1 million of insurance covering any potential life-threatening brain injury. (In 2013, Russian boxer Magomed Abdusalamov suffered a significant brain injury during a fight at MSG, and his subsequent lawsuit is believed by many to be the impetus for the steep insurance requirement in New York's MMA Law).

Not only did the new law effectively make boxing cost prohibitive at the club level, but such an insurance policy did not exist for boxing. That put New York's boxing industry on hiatus for four-and-a-half months before the proper policies were approved.

Without her usual boxing purses, Hardy signed with Invicta FC and planned on making her MMA debut in January before her opponent pulled out because of injury.

Since then, Hardy won a pair of boxing matches against Edina Kiss, including one at LIU's Paramount Theater, which was the first club-level fight card since last September. Following that unanimous decision, Hardy announced that she would fight Yauger at Bellator 180 with the blessing of DiBella and help from her new trainer, jiu-jitsu black belt and MMA fighter Daniel Gracie.

The following is an interview with Hardy in which she discusses boxing, MMA, the business of both sports, and Conor McGregor's (non-existent) chances against Floyd Mayweather.

Fightland: How did you first get the idea to try MMA in your 30s? Heather Hardy: Last year [June 25, 2016], I was 15-0 and I was boxing on the undercard of [Keith Thurman-Shawn Porter's fight on CBS]. I was boxing the girl that was ranked No. 2 [Kirstie Simmons]. I had the perfect argument to be put on TV. I lobbied and lobbied and did all the things. At the time, I was being sponsored by Dove, I was in the commercial campaign; so much stuff was happening; 15-0. And they wouldn't do it. I was passed over by a guy who was like 2-0. And I just felt so defeated. I was doing all the things I was supposed to do and it still wasn't enough. So I thought I needed a backup plan. That summer I started wrestling. Soon after I started wrestling and posting on my social media, [Premiere Boxing Champions] did my fight [against Shelly Vincent] on NBC Sports.

So boxing was starting to take a good turn, but at the same time, I was already doing the jiu-jitsu and thinking, 'man, I'm OK at this.' And then we had the insurance issues in New York, where there were no boxing for six months, so it was the perfect time to get Lou [DiBella] to say that I can do a fight. Then that Invicta fight fell through and I was so disappointed. The girl pulled out the day before the way in. It sucked.

DiBella didn't have to say 'yes' to you? Yeah, I'm really grateful for that. I had to kind of go up to him like when you're asking your dad for money when you know he has none. I was like, 'Please, please,' and I know he's not a big fan of MMA. And why in the world would he want to let me go into another combat sport, where I could potentially get injured? So it was a big thing for him to allow me to do this.

So you went from wrestling to jiu-jitsu. I started American wrestling. I had kick boxed before I boxed, so I'm kinda familiar with kickboxing. And getting back into that hasn't been so difficult. I transitioned from wrestling into jiu-jitsu, and now training I'm with Daniel Gracie.

What's the biggest challenge of this transition? They can pick me up and throw me on the floor. That's really not OK with boxing (laughs).

The biggest challenge is that the tricks you can use in boxing don't work in MMA because people can pick you up and throw you on the floor. You could do a little shoulder bump or lean on your opponent if you're tired or tuck a little on the inside to bully them.

Too many punches at once and you wind up on your back.

In MMA, you're not doing such complicated combinations, right? My MMA coaches are telling me that, "Don't think more than two punches at a time," and if you stand still, someone is gonna look to tie you up.

In boxing, if someone ties you up, the ref breaks it up. In MMA, so much can happen: elbows can get thrown, knee kicks can get thrown. It's dangerous when you get close. They tell you, "Strike and get out; strike and get out."

Is your MMA strategy similar to your boxing strategy? I wish I could say that it is, but my boxing style is being more of a volume puncher. I'm an aggressive puncher. The challenge for me has been to try and add movement to stick and move instead of just stick and stick and stick.

Without any corners in the Octagon, does your footwork have to change? There's no corners, but there's also no gives. With the ropes [in boxing] you can push back on the ropes, you can get a couple of extra inches to move out of the way of a punch. You can work off the ropes.

The cage hurts. You don't want your back on the cage ever. And so many different things, like takedowns in jiu-jitsu and strikes can happen up against that cage. It's not where you wanna be.

But an official MMA cage is almost twice the size of a boxing ring, so I almost feel like I'm fighting someone in my back yard.

With that much space, is it easier to evade an opponent? No, because in boxing, when you get away, you only have to get away from two hands. In this, you're getting away from throws, kicks, knees, elbows, fists. Getting away really entails a lot.

Some see boxing as being more of a skill and MMA being more like a street fight. Is that what you've found? There are very few things you can't do in MMA. You can't poke someone in the eye; you can't bite anybody. It's not a vicious street fight. What I've been telling people for years—and as a boxing fan, you know—you tell people that boxing is a skilled sport. When you watch two people box, it can be like watching two people dance when they're doing it right. It's a beautiful art.

The same can be said for jiu-jitsu, for wrestling, and for all those things that the common, untrained eye may see as just people rolling around on the floor trying to maul each other. Actual beautiful transitions are happening if you know what to look for.

Is it like a street fight? Much more like a street fight than boxing. You can crack your elbow on someone's face after you knock them on the floor. But there's certainly skill involved.

Was jiu-jitsu a good way to transition into MMA? I think that it's important to know what I'm allowed to do, but what my opponent is capable of doing. So I felt like I needed try all of the martial arts just to see what's out there. My coaches might say, "We're gonna work on this drill; you'll never do this in a fight and I never want to see you do this in a fight." But I need to be aware of what can be done to me.

How does the length of the fight compare? Three five-minute rounds.

Does it feel shorter? Longer? Usually I do 10 rounds, but I'd do 10 two-minute rounds. This is a tremendous difference.

Is this more like a marathon? It's like sprinting a marathon is more like it.

How have you responded physically? Getting the grappling stamina that's required and the muscles used has been challenging. But I've been sparring five-minute rounds. We did all the work to prepare.

Did anyone warn you against doing MMA? Well, we had a little of that from Lou in the beginning. Outside of him being a scared dad, no. My team and I are always on the same page. Some of my boxing coaches, some of the old-school guys at Gleason's [Gym in Brooklyn] were like, "What are you doing? What's wrong with you?"

You've said you're not leaving boxing. If you immediately have MMA success, would you turn your attention to that? I don't know that I won't turn my attention to it anyway. I plan on having a lot of success in this field. I'm hooked now. I had my training camp, and about halfway through training camp, something clicked. The green light went on and I was like, "Oh my God, I love this now." I'm really enjoying this.

What clicked? One day I was training and I was trying so hard to do something with the jiu-jitsu and one of my coaches said, "Stop thinking so much; just do what you would naturally do." All of the sudden, everything got easier.

It was just a common takedown defense drill. Someone slams you up against the cage: how do you stay on your feet? I was trying to do all the technical steps: You hit your overhook or your underhook; your hips have to turn; drop your waste.

I'd be like, "Oh, I forgot to do this! Oh, I forgot to do this!"

The coach was just like, "Stop it. Don't let her get you on the floor. How about we think about that instead of the ten things you're supposed to do?"

Once I started thinking like that, it was like, "Oh duh, it's like a fight." It's not a recipe. I'm not baking a cake.

You have to defend more of your body now besides your head and torso. Is that a problem? There are two ways to think about it: More body to defend, or more opportunities to strike.

If you go into boxing and think, "She can do this; she can do that; this can happen to me," that changes your game. My focus is just to stay out of the way and do as much damage as I can when I'm in the zone.

Were you an MMA fan before this? No, but in all fairness, I wasn't a boxing fan either. I grew to appreciate it through doing the sport.

How are you finding the business side of this? It's just different. The business side of anything is just difficult. People keep asking me, "Are you so nervous; it's fight week?" And fight week is fight week. It's business week as a fighter. I gotta close out tickets; I gotta finish making my weight; I gotta see who didn't get T-shirts. I have so much stuff to do, and that doesn't change. This is the same kind of business.

If anything, Bellator is more corporate then boxing. Boxing isn't very corporate. So now I'm finding I'm dealing with lots of different departments to get stuff done and figuring out who to direct questions to. The fundamentals are the same.

Were it not for the insurance issue, would you have just stayed in boxing full time? No, my coach is a three-time world champion. The transition to MMA was always something that was hanging there. He always told me you have to get great at something first. We can't come out of the Golden Gloves and just go into MMA. You have to get great at your boxing.

Not to say that I'm great at boxing, but I'm certainly above skill level against most of the [MMA] competition in terms of boxing. I feel really comfortable making the transition now because of the level I go to in boxing.

Did you scout your opponent? I don't watch video. I leave that to the coaches and let them tell me how to train. You can get so preoccupied with what you see on tape. You don't know how someone is gonna react to you. So I don't like to overplan as much as just being prepared.

You're a boxing expert and you're becoming an MMA fighter: Does McGregor stand a chance against Mayweather? No way does McGregor beat Mayweather in a boxing ring. No way does Mayweather beat McGregor in a cage… Anyone on the planet who thinks that McGregor has a chance does not appreciate the science of boxing.

I don't know that [McGregor will] land one [punch]. I've done sparring sessions where no one hit me, and I'm nowhere near Floyd Mayweather.

McGregor In Reverse: Boxer Heather Hardy Ready for MMA Debut published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[newstfionline]

Trump plays the role of a lifetime overseas

By Philip Rucker and Karen DeYoung, Washington Post, May 27, 2017

TAORMINA, Italy--Little matters more to Donald Trump than imagery. Trump staffed his government out of central casting, and this past week it was time for him to audition for his role: Leader of the free world.

In Washington, Trump is mostly seen only when he chooses. At a lectern in the Rose Garden. Saluting as he boards Marine One. Behind the Resolute Desk of the Oval Office signing jumbo-sized executive orders, pushing his red button to summon a butler with Diet Coke or flashing a thumbs up from his high-backed cherry leather chair.

But a nine-day, marathon foreign trip that concluded Saturday here in Sicily has offered the first extended--and often unfiltered, thanks to the steady stream of raw camera footage provided by his host countries--look at Trump on the world stage.

Trump was both charming and boorish. He was deferential to the berobed king of Saudi Arabia and Pope Francis, yet aggressively rude to his European colleagues, brushing aside a Balkan prime minister to get to his place lining up for a photo shoot at NATO. The French newspaper Le Monde admonished Trump for “verbal and physical brutality” toward NATO allies and said he “lectured them like children.”

He nervously buttoned and unbuttoned his suit jacket. He sometimes seemed unsure whether to smile his toothy grin or glare, as he does when posing for portraits, so he alternated back and forth. At formal events, Trump did not always know where to go or what to do.

“What is the protocol?” he asked Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu as they walked down a red carpet at an airport arrival ceremony in Tel Aviv.

“Who knows,” Netanyahu replied. “I think they’ll just tell us where to stand.”

Trump was visibly comfortable in environs that evoked his own, like Saudi Arabia’s gilded-and-chandeliered palaces, yet appeared out of place in others.

Trump’s family members took center stage. Daughter Ivanka and her husband, Jared Kushner, both White House advisers, stood behind or next to the president when he delivered his speech to Muslim leaders, prayed at the Western Wall, addressed Israeli-Palestinian peace and met Pope Francis. They peeled off the trip in Rome, midway through.

First lady Melania Trump was omnipresent, though largely silent. She and her husband were rarely seen exchanging words, and he sometimes walked ahead of her, almost as if she were an ornament.

But the first lady came out of her shell at solo events, handing out Dr. Seuss books and coloring with children. She was especially moved by her visit to Bambino Gesù Children’s Hospital in Rome, where she read a book to and held hands with a boy who was awaiting a heart transplant. A few hours later, the first lady learned the hospital had found a donor. “Receiving that news is a moment I will never forget,” she said.

While critics at home had predicted major gaffes, the president made none. And Trump participated in and contributed to substantive meetings on issues ranging from counterterrorism and trade to climate change and migration.

“A president becomes presidential,” said Fred Davis, a Republican media strategist. “I’m hoping this trip brings him a level of personal peace, confidence and gravitas that he can use back home.”

In Saudi Arabia, Trump’s call for cooperation in the fight against the Islamic State unquestionably pushed the issue forward, with renewed emphasis on stopping terror financing and blocking militant messaging and recruitment. Beyond any substantive accomplishment, Trump revitalized Arab leaders, particularly in the Persian Gulf, who felt they had been disrespected and ignored by President Obama.

“The United States shifted over the last eight years as a neutral player, at best, that looked the other way at Iranian aggression around the world,” said Ari Fleischer, a White House press secretary under former president George W. Bush. “We are now where we should be.”

In Israel and on the West Bank, Trump repeated his pledge to bring Israelis and Palestinians together in a peace deal, although no progress was made on starting that process. He delighted Netanyahu, and likely discouraged Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas, by not mentioning a two-state solution as a goal.

In Europe, Trump’s badgering remarks on defense spending--during a NATO ceremony memorializing the joint alliance response to the September 2001 terrorist attacks--left a bad taste. There was widespread disappointment at Trump’s failure to use the occasion to reaffirm U.S. commitment to the alliance’s joint defense pact, Article 5, although national security adviser H.R. McMaster said that “of course” Trump supports it.

Germany’s Die Welt newspaper commentator Christoph B. Schiltz wrote that Trump’s “urging, his bugging and his persistence have left the alliance finally engaging more in the fight against international terrorism.”

The White House appeared to step on its own media applause lines by failing to provide timely fact sheets or copies of signed agreements Trump was touting in public as “historic” and “epic.” Press spokesmen sometimes were ill-equipped to provide basic information.

On the campaign trail, as Trump assessed Obama’s foreign policy, he fixated on an image from China that he thought symbolized America’s declining power: Obama disembarking Air Force One in Hangzhou, where he was attending a Group of 20 summit, on a metal ladder extending from the plane’s belly.

“They have pictures of other leaders who are...coming down with a beautiful red carpet. And Obama is coming down a metal staircase,” Trump said at a stop in Ohio. “If that were me, I would say, ‘You know what, folks, I respect you a lot but close the doors, let’s get out of here.’”

Trump did not have to make that call on this trip. At each stop, there were better than satisfactory staircases from which he could descend. At the Riyadh airport, trumpets blared, soldiers stood at attention, fighter jets flew overhead, and a spotless red carpet stretched across the tarmac. The aging King Salman, arriving in a golf cart, and aided by a cane, warmly greeted the president at the foot of the staircase.

“It was very spectacular,” Trump later told European leaders, using his characteristic hyperbole to describe his welcome in Saudi. “I don’t think there was ever anything like that. That was beyond anything anyone’s seen.”

On arrival in Tel Aviv, another band, another red carpet and another head of state stood waiting. Even in Rome and Brussels, which are hardly Trump-friendly locales, the president received a grand welcome.

Trump often found himself the center of attention, both because of America’s place in the world and his singular standing as an international curiosity. But he seemed most at ease playing the undisputed leading man, such as in Riyadh, where the Saudi royal family treated him like one of their own, or in Jerusalem, where Netanyahu lifted him up every opportunity.

As the trip went on, Trump seemed to be having less of a good time, perhaps in part because scandals were brewing in Washington that would await him.

In Brussels, where he attended a series of events celebrating NATO, Trump looked downright bored. As the king of Belgium and other leaders took turns at the lectern, Trump got fidgety, shifting in his seat, looking up to the sky and down to his feet, and crossing his arms over his chest.

The president--whom aides say has little patience for listening to other people speak--then endured a dinner session in which the leaders of all 28 NATO partners gave remarks.

And here in picturesque Taormina, at the Group of Seven summit on the rocky Sicilian coast, Trump struggled to look interested during long meetings with allies in a room decorated with the flags of other countries. As the other G-7 leaders strolled the streets of this ancient fortress town, Trump followed along in a golf cart.

A weight seemed to lift from Trump’s shoulders when he touched down by helicopter at the U.S. Naval Air Station Sigonella, on the Sicilian island, for a pep rally with military families before flying home to Washington.

The need for diplomatic niceties was over. The music playing was his campaign soundtrack. The American flag hanging behind him was several stories tall. Trump could be Trump.

The president riffed about winning--“you’re going to do a lot of winning!”--and, evoking President Reagan, said his trip would pave the way for “peace through strength.”

“That’s what we’re gonna have,” Trump said. “We’re gonna have a lot of strength and we’re gonna have a lot of peace.”