#obsessed with how they simply won’t explain he has a whole ass rock in his skin

[electric-plants]

traveler: is that a gem embedded in your skin??

alhaitham: this is my belt it’s actually a pouch

traveler: okay?? but there’s a gem in your skin??

alhaitham: i keep my books and my music in the pouch

[theowhy]

[thiam] following footsteps

2.4k / g / oneshot

note: hello friends :’) long time no post, i just never have any free time these days. my writing brain cells are rusty but here’s a short thing that was meant to be a, uh, christmas fic but that i couldn’t wrangle into shape until now. it’s not terribly contingent on the christmas season and i hope it’s enjoyable even two months late lmao

The cold is the worst thing when Liam finally comes to. Everything bombards him at once: the bruising ache in his back, the smell of dirt and pine and damp clothes. But the cold—that chills him straight to his bones.

“Shit,” Liam says.

“‘Shit’ is right,” says Theo, a disembodied voice somewhere off to Liam’s left because Liam can’t even bear to open his eyes yet. He’d recognize Theo’s presence even if blind or dead.

How annoying. Though in this moment, it gives Liam a weary sense of comfort, knowing he’s not alone.

“What happened?” he groans, bringing a hand up to gingerly touch his temple where a headache currently pounds.

“You got your ass handed to you,” Theo says. He shifts, clothes rustling, a crunching sound beneath his feet.

Ice? Liam opens his eyes.

They were in the forest, he finally remembers. And sure enough, they’re surrounded by dark trees and a white landscape, grey clouds beyond them, a hard ground beneath. There are rocks, too: Theo must have found some kind of outcropping in the hills to shelter from the snow flurrying through the air. Had he dragged Liam under here after… whatever happened before he was out?

“Yes, I dragged you here,” Theo says, then rolls his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, your face was obvious.”

Liam grimaces. “Did I get hit?”

“Thrown through a tree, actually.” There’s way too much pep in Theo’s voice when he says it. He points out away from them, towards a splintered tree stump in the distance. Its other half lies not far past it, slowly being buried beneath the snow. “That one.”

“Ouch.” Explains why Liam’s back is killing him. “What was it?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I got thrown through a tree, cut me some slack.” Liam gingerly moves to sit up and rub some warmth back into his arms.

“It was… I don’t even know how to describe it.” Theo frowns as he remembers. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. This big white ball of… energy. Ice. It got mad when it saw us and blew you into that tree. There’s been a snowstorm ever since.”

“Did you… kill it?” Liam asks apprehensively.

“Hell no, I grabbed you and hauled ass. You’re lucky it didn’t follow.”

“So it’s still out there? We have to tell the others.”

Theo wordlessly digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He taps the home button. The screen doesn’t light up.

Liam gapes. “Did you seriously bring an uncharged phone out into the middle of nowhere?”

“It’s not my fault you were out for an hour, okay?” Theo snarls. “We were supposed to take a quick look around and go back, I didn’t know some mythical snow spirit whatever the fuck was going to attack us. At least my phone is still in one piece.”

“What?” Dread sinks into Liam’s stomach. He digs into his back pocket, pulls out a mess of circuits and glass and dented metal. He squeaks, “Oh no.”

“Yeah, nice.” Theo sighs. “What is that, your second phone this year?”

“Third.” Liam buries his head in his hands. “My parents are going to kill me.”

It was hard enough convincing them to let him go on this trip to the mountains, where Scott and the rest of the pack had rented a cabin for the weekend. Ostensibly it was to investigate reports of sudden blizzards and extreme snowfall, something Deaton had thought concerning enough for them to check out. But in actuality, none of them expected it to be anything more than some random meteorological weirdness. Scott brought his Nintendo Switch and Mario Kart. Lydia brought wine.

But they’d hardly settled into the cabin before Scott suggested they take a look around before dark, just to get some work in before Mario Kart and chill. Figures Liam didn’t even get the chance to kick Theo’s butt at Mario Kart before the universe decided to screw him over and make his parents ground him forever. It’s not his fault his life suddenly became full of a whole lot more fighting than Liam ever expected, even into his senior year of high school.

“There’s no way I’m gonna try and find my way back in this blizzard,” Theo says, with the finality of a nail into a coffin. “So I suggest you get comfortable.”

Liam sighs, watches the white puff of his breath fade into the air. The wind howls in long, drawn out tones. His whole backside is wet from lying on the ground. His head still hurts.

“Yeah, real easy,” he mutters, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. First things first, try to get his body to stop shivering.

There’s quiet for a moment. Liam’s so preoccupied finding any vestiges of warmth in his body that he startles when something soft is pushed onto his head. He turns his gaze towards Theo.

Theo, whose beanie has now been placed on Liam’s head.

“It ain’t much, but take it,” Theo says, hardly more than a murmur, nearly lost to the sound of the wind. But Liam hears him.

“I’m fine,” he says.

Theo rolls his eyes. “Liam, just take it.”

“But what about you?”

“I can handle a little cold.” Theo crosses his arms tighter, breathes a big exhale that sends a shroud of white around him, thick as smoke. It hides him for a moment but fades away soon enough. His hair is mussed from tugging his beanie off. His nose and cheeks are red, and there are stray snowflakes on Theo’s shoulders, caught in strands of his hair.

It’s more than just a little cold. The beanie helps, in a small way; Theo had given what little he could. That matters, Liam thinks.

It must be that—along with instinctual, human need—that compels Liam to scoot closer until he’s pressed up against Theo’s side.

Theo goes rigid.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Liam.

Finally, Theo says, “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold,” Liam says simply. “You said get comfortable.”

“Comfortable does not mean sitting on top of me.”

“I’m not on top of you,” Liam scoffs. “We gotta huddle for warmth.”

“Sure, huddle. Not cuddle.” Theo pointedly scoots away. Liam follows. “Liam.”

“Theo, come on. I’m not dying out here.”

“I’m not dying out here, either,” Theo says, then shuts his mouth.

Liam laughs.

“Glad you find this funny,” Theo grumbles, but this close together, Liam can feel the way he relaxes, the way he presses in by one reluctantly given inch. But it’s something.

Liam tugs the beanie more snugly onto his head, trying not to smile. Yeah. It’s something.

It doesn’t change the fact that they’re stuck out here until whichever happens first: the blizzard goes away (not looking likely), the pack finds them (even less likely, given that Liam hopes they have the wisdom to stay out of the blizzard, too), or God intervenes. Liam’s never had much luck with the last one.

So he takes in his surroundings instead. There isn’t much to see, really, besides trees, trees, and more trees. The occasional bush. Plenty of snow. And—

“Oh!” Liam says, sitting up straighter and pointing. “Mistletoe!”

Theo doesn’t even look and says, “Nice try, Liam. If you wanted to kiss, you could just ask.”

Liam sputters and shoves Theo hard on the shoulder, which hardly budges him. Theo smirks. “No, dude, ugh. Christmas was like a month ago, anyway. I mean there’s literally mistletoe growing on the trees.”

“Riveting,” Theo drawls, but humors Liam anyway. He looks out to where Liam’s pointing at a bushy mass growing in the branches of one of the trees ahead of them. “That it?”

“Yeah.” Liam squints. He can see its leaves rustling with the wind, how different they are from the leaves of the oak tree it rests in. “Phoradendron villosum. Pacific mistletoe. Don’t eat it.”

“I know that.”

“Did you know mistletoe is a parasite?”

“It’s poisonous, that doesn’t surprise me.” Theo looks mildly interested anyway, and Liam feels a small thrill of victory over it. It’s not often that he gets to share some biology knowledge that Theo doesn’t already know. “So why are people obsessed with hanging it in doorways and stuff?”

“Why do people do anything? Superstition. Folklore.” A particularly strong gust of wind sends a branch of the mistletoe flying. It lands in the snow a few feet ahead of them. “Some cultures saw it as a symbol of fertility. I guess the white berries remind them of—er.”

An awkward beat of silence.

Theo says, “I hope the snow kills us soon.”

Liam’s face burns. At least he feels a little less cold now.

He clears his throat. “Anyway… It’s also associated with protection from witches and demons and stuff.”

“I never took you for a mistletoe nerd.”

“I wrote a report about them in freshman bio. It was kind of interesting. Makes it a little less romantic to know they actually kill the trees they grow on.”

“How beautiful,” Theo says flatly. “You’re still a nerd, though.”

“Shut up.” Liam nudges his shoulder against Theo’s. The corner of Theo’s mouth tugs up just slightly.

Liam’s never done it before, kissed someone under the mistletoe. Hayden came and went too quickly for them to ever reach Christmas, and there hasn’t really been anyone since. There was never any time. And, more honestly, no one else has ever made him feel quite the same.

Well. Almost no one else.

But that’s only ever been a passing daydream, one that’s plagued him in random moments. On an elevator ride back down to the first floor of Beacon Hills Memorial. In the passenger seat of a truck. In sparse texts, shared late at night long after pack meetings have ended.

In a snowy forest, surrounded by no one else.

“Hey, Theo,” Liam says.

Theo grunts and turns towards him.

“What?” he says.

Liam presses their lips together. Theo stops breathing.

A kiss would describe it generously. Liam breathes when it becomes evidently clear that Theo won’t. That’s fine. Taking him by surprise is pretty nice. In any case, the kiss ends almost as soon as it began, and Liam pulls away from the corner of Theo’s mouth. The warmth lingers afterwards.

“W-What the hell was that for?” Theo stammers—Theo, stammering—and brings his hand up over his mouth.

“Mistletoe,” Liam says.

“You—idiot.” Theo brings his other hand up to cover his face, but it’s not enough to hide the red lingering at the tips of his ears. It’s a nice color. “You are so… You…”

“Yeah, you too,” Liam says, not bothering to suppress a grin.

Theo gives him a look through the gaps between his fingers, and Liam expects him to grind out another poorly executed insult when Theo drops his hands, his eyes widening, mouth falling slack.

“What?” Liam says.

Theo just grabs him by the shoulders and tugs him back, further into their little shelter.

“What?” Liam says again, more irately. He turns to look where Theo keeps gaping over Liam’s shoulder.

He finds a great, big ball of blue. Liam’s voice dies in his throat.

His first thought is of ball lightning, something he and Mason had spent one sleepover watching way too many videos of on YouTube. In truth, they didn’t care for the science of it rather than the fact that it looked super fucking cool. Just a sphere of pure energy and light, sweeping through open plains or swathes of sky. This doesn’t feel quite like that, but on the surface it seems the same: crackling, blue-white energy, swirling in a sphere that must be a meter wide, at least. Its core is opaque, like hard ice, and there’s a strange hum about it as it drifts closer to them.

It is frighteningly close. Theo draws an arm out across Liam, pushing him against the rocks at their back. But the sphere doesn’t attack them, doesn’t whip them with a sharp slice of wind like Liam was hit with earlier.

It only drifts over their hiding spot, passing by like an elk through the woods. Calm and constellated with flecks of ice and snow. Something about it feels as old as time itself.

Both of them hold their breaths as it passes. It disappears over them, drifting over the hill. The winds calm. The snowfall begins to diminish until it ceases completely.

It’s quiet.

They stay still for one, two, three heartbeats. Then Theo drops his arm. They both exhale.

“Holy shit,” Liam says, panting like he ran a marathon. “Was that it?”

“No, it was a different big blue ice ball,” Theo says. “Of course that was it.”

“That… was awesome.” Liam crawls out of their shelter to look around for any sign of it. It’s long gone, not even a trail left in its wake.

“I see you’ve already forgiven it for trying to kill you.”

“I don’t want to get thrown through a tree again, but it didn’t attack us this time. We probably spooked it earlier. And look, it stopped the blizzard.”

“You’re way too chipper for seeing something that unreal,” Theo says, following Liam out.

The newly returned sunlight falls over Theo’s shoulders, making him that much easier to see. Theo turns his face up to the sun. His damp hair curls at his temples.

Despite Theo’s griping, Liam can see the wonder in his eyes, the way they glow. He looks alive. Liam thinks about how the blood inside him and the blood inside Theo must be the same, despite everything.

Liam says, “Hey. Thanks.”

Theo frowns. “Why?”

“For saving me earlier.” And the time before that. And the time before that.

Theo scoffs, and where Liam usually sees shutters falling over his face, a mask piecing back together, now he sees a hint of a smile. Something brighter, underneath.

“Whatever,” Theo says, and snatches his beanie off Liam’s head so he can ruffle his hair aggressively.

“Dude!” Liam yelps. 

Theo laughs and whirls away, tearing through the snow in a direction Liam will have to trust is home.

There’s no hesitation at all before Liam chases after him.

--

note: big ice ball inspired by the leschach entite of ffxii. because..... im a nerd :p 

[eideticmemory]

EVER SINCE NEW YORK VIII | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 8! Read Part 7 here!

SOUNDTRACK:

Cry Baby - The Neighbourhood.

Past Lives - Børns.

The Few Things - JP Saxe.

Word Count: 2,832.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, drinking, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Spring, Senior Year.

Los Angeles, 

California. 

“Not pregnant.”

You fell to your knees, grasping at the air in a fit of relief. You clutched your stomach and gasped for breath. 

“Not pregnant.” Claire repeated, looking at the second test. “Not pregnant.” 

“Fuck!” You shouted. “Thank God!”

Claire broke out into nervous laughter, “Not pregnant! You’re not pregnant!” She squealed. She dropped the tests and ran over to you, kneeling down to embrace you. 

You held each other in a deep hug for a long time. You missed her. You missed her so much. She was your rock. You once thought that when things were going to shit, you wanted Matthew. 

But who you needed was Claire. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered to her. 

“You’re sorry? I’m sorry!”

“I was stupid.”

“I was more stupid!”

“I love you, Claire,” you told her. 

“Aw,” she smiled. “I can’t even say...how much...”

“I know,” you nodded. “I know.”

You didn’t go back to Matthew’s. You threw those terrible tests in the trash, scheduled an appointment at the student health center, and subsequently spent all day with your best friend. You spilled your guts. Told her the full Matthew story from beginning to end. It was like a rush of information, a physical rush of word after word after word. And Claire just listened. She chomped down on some twizzlers, dressed in her pajamas, drowning out the movie on in the background. She didn’t speak a word until you were completely finished. 

“Pass the oreos,” she said.

“That’s it?” You laughed. “I tell you all of that and all you say is pass the oreos?”

“I need oreos to properly digest all of this information, duh.” 

You handed her the blue package, which she gladly took and ripped open. Oreo in hand, a little caught between her teeth, she said, “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”

“I know. He knows.”

“I mean it, kid,” she looked you in the eye. “Matthew and I...we just fooled around. You guys passed fooling around a long time ago.”

“I guess...” you shrugged. 

“You guess? [y/n], I know you better than anyone. There’s never been a guy like this. Why...why aren’t you dating?”

You gulped, “Oh.” You looked down at your fingers, “Neither of us ever brought it up. It’s just...too messy. Don’t wanna deal with it. It’s fine.”

“So, you don’t wanna be his girlfriend?”

“I—“ you were cut off by the sound of your phone ringing against the couch. You picked it up to see Matthew’s name flashing on the screen. You declined the call.

Claire watched you set your phone back down, and you recognized the somber look on your face. “Well?” She continued. “Do you?”

After that, you simply refused to continue any kind of Matthew conversation. Claire noticed your sudden urge to keep quiet, and she pulled back on all the questions. 

“So,” you said. “What about you? Seeing anyone?”

She cleared her throat, awkwardly shuffling in her seat.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” You giggled. “Who is it? What’s his name?”

You sighed, “I’ve been meaning to tell you...but you can’t tell anyone, okay? Especially Matthew!”

You put up your hand, palm facing her. “You have my word. Who is it?”

“Roni.”

You sat back against the couch, physically moved by shock. “R-did I hear you right?”

Claire nodded, “Veronica.” 

“Um...yeah...I’m gonna need you to explain.”

She chuckled nervously, “There’s nothing really to explain. Um, we were drunk...and...you were out with Matthew, and I brought her back here. It—it was a total fling. Until...it wasn’t.”

“Holy shit, Claire!” You exclaimed. 

“I know! But, Veronica, she’s so cool. She’s so hot. She likes classic films, and—and she makes jewelry, and...I don’t know, I like her.”

You smiled at Claire, “I can tell.”

“Y’know, her and I are going to LA this spring break. You should come! You and Matthew!”

You cringed, “I don’t know...you want me to ask Matthew to come on a trip with three girls he’s fucked? Can you say awkward?” 

“Just ask him! We’ll invite more people to make it less awkward, and it’s not like we need to be a foursome the whole time. Just, ask. If he says no, he says no. But promise me you’ll ask?”

You sighed, “I promise.”

For the rest of the semester, you spent a very little amount of time with Matthew. Not only did the whole pregnancy scare shake you up, but you also had a lot of lost time to make up with Claire. She kept her distance from Veronica, as well. Both Matthew and her were very understanding, just taking it to means that the best friends needed some alone time. 

You spent winter break with Claire’s family, and came back with a new, restored friendship. She continued to ask if you’d invited Matthew to Los Angeles, and you always found subtle ways to say no. The trip was quickly approaching, but so was your final ballet performance. You channeled all your energy into practicing, perfecting, all while juggling class and Matthew. 

He brought you flowers on opening night, gave you a secret kiss in your dressing room, and told you to go kill it. You did. You put your soul into the performance, everything you had, everything you were. Until you were so tired that you could collapse on stage. Your ballet friends cheered you on as you exited the stage, and you stayed with them briefly before going into your dressing room. 

Beginning to take your makeup off, you heard a knock at the door. You expected Matthew, but your ballet instructor entered. “Oh. Hey! You happy?” You asked her, stepping up to give her a hug. 

“I’m very happy! You did amazing, [y/n], I’m so proud of you. Proud of everything you’ve accomplished here.”

“Thank you, Ms. Oak,” you whispered. 

“And I’m not the only one impressed by you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes...the dean of the department has had her eye on you for a while.”

You tilted your head, “Should I be nervous?”

“No, no, not at all. Actually, she wants to offer you a job.”

You looked at her, stunned, blinking slowly. “A job?”

“Yep. Assistant ballet instructor. It’s a paid position, you’d be working under me. And if you choose to accept, NYU will pay for you to attend their graduate school.”

You jaw dropped, “You’re telling me I take this job, I can attend the graduate film school for free?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded. “What do you think?”

“I—“ you stuttered. “What do I think? I think it’s amazing! Thank you so much!” You pulled her into an excited hug. “Um, when do I have to decide?” 

“You don’t have to decide until graduation. But, the sooner, the better.”

You nodded, “Okay. Okay, I’ll get back to you.”

The first person you told was Claire. She jumped up and down in your dressing room, squealing with you. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! [y/n], this is huge! This is huger than huge! We gotta celebrate. Go find Matthew, we’re going out for drinks.” 

The three of you went out to a bar, and Claire proposed a toast to you. “To our superstar, [y/n], the baddest bitch, the best ballerina, and soon to be assistant—“

“Hey, Matthew,” you interrupted her, turning to Matthew. “Do you want to go to Los Angeles this spring break?”

“LA?” he replied. 

“Yeah, Claire and I are going. We want you to come.” You nodded, cutting your eyes at Claire. She was eyeing you suspiciously. 

“Claire’s okay third wheeling? I mean, you and I kind of come as a package.”

“Well, Claire’s, uh, bringing a friend.” 

Matthew looked at Claire, his arm tight around you. “Really?” He said. “Nice. Do I know him?”

“Yeah,” Claire and you said at the same time. “You do.”

Claire slapped your shoulder once you two got home. “Ow!” You winced.

“Why didn’t you tell Matthew?” She snapped.

“Tell Matthew what?”

“Everything! About LA, Roni, your job offer?” 

You sighed, “I’m going to tell him. Just not tonight.”

Or the night after that. Or the night after that. Or the night after that. 

Matthew didn’t know about Roni until the four of you met at the airport. Awkward doesn’t begin to sum it up. Matthew and Veronica didn’t talk at all. They only acknowledged you, Claire, and other friends, never each other. You didn’t bother asking Matthew what was up, but Claire filled you in. The last split had been bad. It was easier on them now that Matthew and you were...whatever you were. And Claire and Veronica were doing their own thing.

The group of you walked around like typical tourists. It was your first time in California, and you loved every second of it. Matthew and you stuck together like peas in a pod. He showed you around, paid for your dinners, held your hand. He was a perfect gentleman.

Until he got you into bed. Then he was the same old, horny Matthew. He wore you out with a bunch of orgasms. First, sliding underneath the covers and eating you, gripping your thighs, humming against you. Then, he used his cock to fuck you until your legs turned to jello and you came twice. When he told you to get on all fours, you froze.

“Okay, dude,” you giggled. “You have never lasted this long. Ever. What was in your drink tonight?”

“Viagra,” he said simply.

“Yeah, right,” you rolled onto your stomach. When Matthew stayed silent, you turned your head to face him. “Wait. Deadass?”

He laughed, “Yeah, me and some of the guys bought some as a joke. But I took one and now the little guy won’t go down.” 

You glanced down at his rock hard dick, your jaw dropped. You shook your head at him, and placed yourself on all fours, arching your bed into the mattress. “You’re insane, Matthew Gray Gubler.” You giggled.

“Fuck, you didn’t have to say my whole name,” he laughed. He slapped your ass lightly and knelt behind you, lining himself up at your entrance. 

“Why not—ah!” You were cut off by the sensation of him pushing into you. “I—I like Matthew Gray Gubler. Good, strong name.”

“Yeah?” He bit down on his lip, taking long, slow strokes in and out of you. “I like the way you say it.”

“I like...when you pound me.” You whispered, a sly smile on your face. 

He said nothing, just slammed himself into you. Over and over, until you were trembling and gasping. “Fuck,” you huffed, biting down on the pillow. He watched you writh beneath him, held your hips as you pushed yourself back on his cock. Your bodies moved in perfect unison with one another, and it was so good for both of you, even Matthew viagra-boy Gubler was nearing his orgasm. 

He reached around and rubbed on your clit, making sure to keep up his rhythm. You held onto his wrist tightly, calling out his name and beginning to melt into the mattress. You eagerly pushed your ass back, trying to get him as deep inside of you as possible, and make yourself come. Matthew placed sloppy kisses between your shoulder blades. 

“Come on, princess, come on,” he whispered. 

You fell helpless against the bed, your toes curled, your mouth was wide open. He licked the sweat off of your skin and it sent you over the edge. Your pussy tightened around him, and his finished you off with one final thrust. He followed right behind you, finally releasing himself, loudly, into the condom.

Yes, condoms. They’re your new best friend. 

Matthew held you against his chest, the two of you entangled in a soft cuddle session. He kissed your forehead, “My dick’s still hard.” He told you.

You burst out laughing, “Oh, God. Dumb boy, silly boy.” 

“Hey, [y/n]?” He called. 

You looked up at him, “Yes?” 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something, but I just want you to listen. Just hear me out.” 

You sat up, nervous already. “Yeah?”

He sighed, “Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Okay. When I went out with the guys, we obviously got y’know condoms, viagra—“

“The essentials,” you shrugged.

“Right. But we also went to this film expo. And we’re just walking around, looking for jobs and...this modeling agent walks up to me. Tells me I’m very handsome, duh, and that I, uh, should come work for them.” 

You tilted your head at him, a smug smile on your face. “Modeling, huh?”

“Yeah...yeah...it’s legit. And if I take it, it’ll finally be my chance.”

“Chance to what?” You asked.

“To move to LA.”

You sat back, shocked at his words. “Hey, hey, don’t freak out on me,” he said. “Because that’s not all.”

“Oh?” Your voice came out small, weak.

“Yeah...I, um...I—“ he stuttered. “I want you to come with me.”

Talk about a double shot. You sat in utter surprise, your mouth opened slightly, your body numb. “Come...with...you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Let’s just do it. After graduation, you and I, on a plane, going to live in Los Angeles. How does that sound?” 

You stared at him for a long time, “That...that sounds...perfect, actually.”

“But..?”

You shook your head, “No but...let’s do it.”

Matthew broke out into a huge, bright smile, “Holy shit! Really? Really?”

“Really.”

He tackled you onto the bed, both of you erupting into a fit of laughter and joy. “[y/n]...” he whispered.

You looked him in the eye, your thumb tracing his jaw. “Yeah?”

He stared at you, sighed, and leaned in to kiss you. Softly, gently, sweetly. “My dick’s still hard,” he mumbled.

You didn’t tell Claire until after spring break. It was an accident really. She caught you cruising LA apartments online, and you cracked. Spilled the truth.

“Are you...” Claire started. “Are you dumb?”

“I—“

“[y/n], you can’t move to LA with him. You will regret that shit. You’ll end up pregnant for real, he’ll leave, and you’ll be on your own.”

“Claire, what the fuck?”

“Well, it’s true! Matthew’s not even your boyfriend—“

“Stop!” You shouted. “I don’t want to argue! I don’t wanna fight with you! I love you, Claire! But I love Matthew, too, and I want to be with him!”

Holy shit. Did you just...you did. You said you loved Matthew. Out loud. And you meant every word. 

All of your attention left Claire, and you simply continued your apartment search. You spent that night at Matthew’s, cuddled up and showing him your favorite affordable places. It felt right. Real. Being in his arms, planning a future with him. 

Right. Real.

Claire swallowed her tongue a lot on the subject. She had her opinion, she made it clear. But she didn’t want to spend your last year together in a fight. So, you both ignored the situation. Even when you began to pack up your room. Even when Matthew sent you your plane ticket. Even when the future became painfully clear. 

You stuck together all of graduation day. You partied the night before, had a small movie marathon, and fell asleep on the couch. Your families harassed you two with cameras and orders and their sheer excitement bouncing everywhere. 

You did it.

After four long years, you had your degree. Holding it was everything you imagined and more. And as you wandered through the crowd, you came face to face with the best thing NYU had brought you: Matthew Gray Gubler. 

The two of you smiled at each other across the courtyard, and subsequently ran into each others arms. Matthew picked you up and spun you around in your cap and gown. 

“We did it!” He exclaimed. 

“We sure did, and fashionably, too!” You giggled. 

Matthew pulled you into a steamy kiss, one that nearly made you entirely weak in the knees. “Tomorrow morning,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. “I will be in that airport, waiting for you.”

“I’ll be there,” you smiled. 

The next day, you woke up promptly at 7 o’clock in the morning. Your bags were packed, locked, and ready to go. So were you. You hopped up out of bed, dolled yourself up. You took one last look at the room you were leaving behind. And you left. 

You arrived at the airport at eight, after getting some breakfast and saying goodbye to a few friends. You saw the plane. 

You sat outside of the airport, on the bare grass, suitcases at your side. Tears rolled down your cheeks, and you saw the aircraft rise into the sky. And something in your stomach told you that he was on it. That, in another life, you would’ve been on it, too.

You sighed, followed by another slow breath.

“Goodbye, Matthew.” 

[missmarquin]

Twenty Flowers, and the Memories of Them

I saw this graphic floating around and bam, Drabbles happened. 

Read on A03 for better Quality!

Otabek is a sap when it comes to things, but Yuri loves it. 

He’s tired and aching, and his students are fucking stupid. But when he walks into their small apartment, to find a bundle of flowers in a jar, he smiles. He doesn’t need a note. Beka has explained more than enough times his stupid obsession with flowers and the questions they can ask. 

His fingers touch a leaf lightly, and he leans over to smell them.

“Yura,” Otabek says from behind him. Yuri turns to find him in a towel, dripping wet. Otabek pulls him close, kissing his lips lightly. 

“What are these for?” Yuri asks.

“No reason,” Otabek says. “Just memories.”

Memories indeed. 

….

Rose

“Hey Beka.” 

The man in question hums lightly, but doesn’t look up from the bike that he sits before. He’s sprawled out on the ground before it, surveying it with a critical eye. Yuri watches from the workbench. Otabek takes a socket wrench, muscles bulging slightly with effort as he works at the screw. Yuri keeps watching, swallowing thickly. He blames the hot garage air. 

“What’s your crush like?” He finally asks. 

Otabek drops the tool, hissing slightly in surprise. Yuri blinks at that, but his friend recovers immediately, the wrench twirling about deftly between his fingers. “They’re a little hot-head,” Otabek says, as he moves to pull at another part of the bike. Yuri is about forty-percent sure that it was the engine, but what the fuck does he know about motorcycles? “More bark than bite though, ad I’ve learned over the years. And beautiful.”

“And let me guess,” Yuri intones, bored, “They don’t know it, right?” Isn’t that how romance always works?

Otabek snorts at that, the closest thing to a genuine laugh Yuri would ever get. “No. Trust me, they absolutely know.”

Yuri thinks on that for a long moment, and then says, “Sounds like someone I’d get along with.”

By the time Otabek looks up from his work, Yuri’s already lost interest in the idea, and he misses how the mechanic regards him with the utmost fondness. 

Cherry Blossom

It isn’t the first rom-com that Otabek and Yuri have ever watched, and it certainly isn’t the last. This night is like any other. Beka leans against one arm of the couch, and Yuri across the entire thing, his long legs stretched across the other man’s lap. Otabek holds Yuri’s ankles in a loose grip unconsciously. Yuri eats popcorn noisily, but Otabek doesn’t. He only watches him. He watches Yuri, more than the movie itself. 

Yuri never notices. 

“That’s so stupid, Yuri says around a mouthful of food. He gestures wildly at the screen. “Who the fuck believes in love at first sight?”

Otabek does. Otabek does, because he’s a living example, not that he’ll ever let Yuri know. Instead, he grunts his customary grunt, squeezing the soft skin of Yuri’s leg gently. 

“Yeah, who would ever?”

Daisy

Yuri tries not to think of his younger days, because those days fucking suck. He remembers Otabek though, and those memories aren’t so terrible. 

He remembers a stocky boy stumbling around like a blundering fool. Unable to hold basic forms, little-to-no flexibility to speak of. Yuri favors this memory because it’s funny-- it’s funny to remember the determined look on Otabek’s face, and how it belied the strain on his ill-suited-for-dance of a body.

As an adult though, he’s grown fond of it. It’s when Otabek first saw him, first noticed him. The whole Eyes of a Soldier thing was pretty endearing.

And of course, Yuri is fucking smug about it. 

Daffodil

Yuri doesn’t often dress up, because it’s extra work. Otabek relishes the rare moments when he does though, because Yuri goes to the fucking nines. 

“Beka, will you help me with this tie?” Yuri asks, storming out of the hotel bathroom in a whirlwind. Otabek turns, only to freeze to the spot. Looking, just looking, taking in the sight of Yuri in a deep burgundy button down. Yuri’s lips pull into a tight frown as he fumbles with the white bow tie. 

“Fucking ties,” He murmurs, and then he repeats, “Beka.” Yuri looks up. “I asked-- why are you staring?”

Otabek snaps his mouth shut and steps closer, trying to play it cool. He pulls Yuri’s hands from the tie, fixing it easily. “It’s a good color on your,” he says simply. His fingers ghost over the skin of his neck, pulling here and sliding the fabric through there. “Caught me off guard.”

When he’s down, Yuri fingers the shirt nervously, but smiles back. 

Peony

“Telling the truth is fucking boring,” Yuri groans, leaning long the couch. 

Otabek is sprawled across the floor, trying to hook up a gaming system. Even as a DJ extraordinaire, was was clueless when it came to most other electronics. He stares at the pile of wires and controllers and plugs with a severe frown. 

“Don’t be silly, Yura,” he says, moving to untangle a pile. “It’s basic manners.”

“You know better than anyone that I don’t have fucking manners.” Yuri pauses. “Except with you. I’m nice to you.” Another pause. “If it’s your story, fucking embelish it. Honor and glory, and all that shit. Don’t you want to seem impressive to others?”

“Do you lie to me?” Yuri knows that Otabek is only teasing him, but his heart jerks slightly. Because there are things that Yuri feels and Otabek doesn’t know. 

“No,” Yuri finally says. “But I’ve made a habit of lying to myself, I guess.”

Iris

“I asked what your favorite song from the nineties is.”

“And I answered.”

“I’m In Love With My Car, by Queen isn’t the fucking nineties, Beka.”

Otabek smiles. “The nineties was a terrible era of music, so I prefer to ignore it.”

Yuri rolls his eyes in response. 

Sunflower

“Why the moon?”

Otabek considers Yuri’s question for a moment, and then says, “It reminds me of someone.”

“That mysterious crush of yours?” Yuri teases.  “All beautiful and that shit?” They’re laying in the grass of some park, on the outskirts of St. Petersburg, and Yuri doesn’t see Otabek smile wryly.

“That’s not really why, Yura.”

“Eh?”

Otabek thinks again for a moment. “You know how the moon pulls at the tides?”

“Yeah, gravity and shit.”

“Well, this person pulls at me, and no matter what, I find myself always going back to them.”

Yuri gives him a sideways glance. “Beka, I’m literally the only person you hang out with. I feel bad for whoever’s heart your breaking.”

Otabek hums in response, looking back to the night sky. Yuri doesn’t quite get his silence.

Narcissus

“Yakov wants me to cut my hair.”

Otabek isn’t surprised, but Yakov was a bit traditional in the end all of things. Yuri hasn’t cut it in years, and it falls limply around his mid back.  He reaches out, grasping the ends in his fingertips.  “Will you?”

“Fuck that shit,” Yuri spits. “It’s my favorite part of me.”

“Same,” Otabek says, reaching to brush his bangs back. 

Yuri’s expression softens. 

Freesia

It’s been a long day of competition, and they’ve forgone the partying afterwards. Yuri hisses as he pulls his foot out of an ice bath. Otabek takes it gently, pulling it into his lap. Wordlessly, he massages the skin and applies ointment to any scrapes and cuts. He avoids bruises and moisturizes the cracked skin. 

“Hey Beka,” Yuri says, and Otabek hums in response, like he often does. “You’ll always be my best friend, right? Like this’ll never end will it?”

Otabek fucking hopes not, but the future is never certain. Still, he replies with, “Of course it won’t. I’m yours forever, Yura.”

Yuri tries not to look pleased by the words.

Orchid

“Jesus fucking christ,” Yuri mutters, and Otabek looks up at him. He’s struggling with a peach, his fingers covered in the slick juice as he peels it carefully. When he takes a bite, it dribbles down his chin. Yuri’s tongue snakes out, licking it up and--

Otabek looks away quickly. He can feel his face burning red. He’s mortified. 

He also comes to the conclusion that peaches are now his favorite fruit. 

Violet

“Kissing is overrated.”

Otabek blinks at Yuri. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Yuri scoffs. “Of course I have. Never impressed by it.”

Before Otabek can respond, Victor butts his unwanted nose into the conversation. “Probably because you’re kissing the wrong person,” he says, leaning over Yuri’s shoulder.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Yuri snaps, pushing Victor away.

But Victor only laughs, winking at Otabek.

Alstroemeria

“Let’s go back to Barcelona,” Otabek says one night. 

Yuri grunts softly, snuggling into his side, muttering about how sore he is from skating that day. Friends don’t do this, Otabek thinks. Not even best friends-- but best friends who love each other? 

More likely. And so-- “You heard me,” Otabek says, nudging him gently. “Let’s take a vacation.”

“Why Barcelona?”

“Because Barcelona always brings us good things.”

Yuri hums at that and doesn’t discredit his observation. “Barcelona it is, then. Let’s set a course.”

Otabek then looks down, confused-- only to realize that Yuri is talking in his sleep. 

Cymbidium

Yuri is looking at him weird, and finally it gets to Otabek.

“Yura, is there something wrong?” he asks. 

Yuri cocks his head to the side, a cute little wrinkle settling across his brow. “I’m trying to figure it out,” he finally says.”

“Figure what out?”

“Why girls don’t date you. I mean, you’re good looking and shit. Rocking muscles, sexy haircut-- aren’t you like made of the stuff they look for?”

Oh. Oh. It wasn’t that Otabek never expected to have this conversation, but he never thought Yuri would bring it up so casually. “Women ask me out plenty,” Otabek replies finally, rubbing at his neck nervously. “I just-- they aren’t my type.”

Yuri blinks at that. “Wait, are you gay?” A pause, and then, “I mean, that’s super not a problem and all that.” Otabek releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Seriously, it’s all good. Also, that dude that you like? Go fucking tell him, or something. I’m tired of carrying along your lonely ass.”

Otabek mutters something about it not being that easy. 

Rhododendron

Yuri hates the question that Otabek asks him.

Yura, are you afraid of anything? 

How does Yuri explain his biggest fear, is Otabek himself? Any and everything about him-- losing him, telling him that he likes him, what his reaction might be...

“Hey, you know how you’re like the only person that I remotely tolerate?”

“Hm?” Otabek looks at him over the bike he sits next to. And then, “Yura, is this about what I asked you the other day? Don’t worry about it; it was only a question.”

“Most people would say being alone, right?” Yuri replies, ignoring what Otabek says. “But I guess my fear is more specific. It’s losing you. That idea fucking sucks, because you’re the only person that means shit to me.” 

He risks a glance at Otabek, afraid that his words would seem weird but-- His heart beats wildly instead, because of the soft look on Otabek’s face. 

Tulip

“Lucky number fifteen,” Yuri says with a smile. 

“Fifteen? That’s a weird number.”

Yuri winks at him. “It’s how old I was when I met you.”

Otabek’s heart flutters, and he ignores it. “Yura, you were ten when we met.”

“Fucking semantics.”

Gerbera

Otabek knew the moment Aidana retired from making costumes, he would struggle finding someone else he could trust. And when Yuri tells him that he has a great person that would be perfect for Otabek’s style, he knew he should have ignored him.

“Beka, let me see,” Yuri pleads, throwing back the fitting room drape with little care. He stops. He looks, his gaze dragging the entire length of his body. “That’s uh… different,” he finally manages. 

“The first version was lavender. I told him to make it brighter. This wasn’t what I had in mind.”

And then Yuri wasn’t able to hold it any longer. He burst out laughing, nearly falling over. Otabek slaps his hand against his face, pulling at his skin in frustration. He spares a glance in the mirror, wincing at the neon pink and yellow ensemble. 

Yeah, next time he shoves Yuri’s head in the toilet instead. 

Snapdragon

“I’m a fucking unicorn, Beka, and you know it.”

Otabek smiles, because Yuri was right. 

Hydrangea

It’s probably Yuri’s last Olympics. 

It’s not something that Otabek wants to think about. It was okay when he retired, he expected to retire early into his career. But Yuri? Yuri seems like he’d be able to skate until he’s fifty-- even if Otabek knows that’s not possible. 

But it’s 2026, and Yuri is twenty-eight. He’ll be lucky to eke out another few years in his competitive career, let alone another Olympics. Yuri doesn’t mention it, but they both know. Otabek has to know, he’s his coach. The moment he hung his skates up, Yuri demanded it. 

Yuri skates flawlessly, like always. Otabek knows he’s in pain. He sees the slight strain in Yuri’s muscles, the little twitches of discomfort. He’s knows because he watches, he’s always watching Yuri. As his coach, as his friend, as well as wishing. 

They sit in the Kiss-and-Cry. They wait for the final scores, the ones that determine medals. Yuri sits in second, but he delivers one hell of a final performance. 

The announcement comes on, and the score is heard. And it’s like the stadium is quiet, it’s like there’s no one there, except for them. He turns to Yuri, who turns to him, and Yuri whoops. He jumps out of his seat, screeching, pulling Otabek with him. 

Otabek is proud, this is the proudest moment in his life. Because Yuri smashes a record and will bring home the gold. 

Yuri must be proud too, because he dips down and kisses him. It’s a surprise. They’ve danced around this for years, but Yuri finally make his fucking choice. 

Fuck the Gold, Otabek thinks, slipping his arms around his neck, pulling Yuri closer. 

Ginger

“I fucking hate Katsudon,” Yuri says. 

Otabek regards him with amusement. “Color me surprised,” he intones sarcastically. “You seem to have no problem with it anytime you come to Japan.” He points to the bowl sitting before him.

“I wasn’t talking about the fucking food,” Yuri snaps, and Otabek laughs. 

Carnation

“Hey Beka,” Yuri starts. He always starts things like that, with a simple Hey Beka. “What do you think about true love?”

He’s asked about this before, though they were pretty fucking young. Years ago, but Otabek remembers it. He remembers most of the things that Yuri asks. 

“What, do I think it exists?” Yuri shrugs. Otabek reaches out and grasps his hand, slipping his fingers between Yuri’s. “Obviously.”

Yuri isn’t the kind of guy to make mad declarations of love-- aside from his newsworthy smooch at the Olympics. But he says, “Yeah, obviously.”

Otabek smiles, squeezing his hand. 

Yuri squeezes back. 

[jim-reid]

I Hate Rock & Roll

Tracey Grimson / On the Street 09.05.1995

As the Jesus & Mary Chain's machine of fuzz and feedback arrives in Sydney, Jim Reid explains how most folk have got his little sect all wrong. "It seems like everything we do that doesn't have screeching feedback on it, people come out asking, Where's the feedback?'. We can't get away from it." The Jesus & Mary Chain's Jim Reid is discussing that ol' albatross called "noise" which has been suspended around the neck of he and brother William since the album Psychocandy was released and justifiably lauded way back in late 1985. At the time, the record was highly regarded for its surreptitious fuzz power and its crafty take on the pop form, developing a new sound which came in the wake of the Brit punk scene but which arrived bearing just as much power, at the same time sparking a scene which the Mary Chain could claim as its own. Retrospectively, Psychocandy is regarded as one of the most important records of the 80s and, gleaned together with Darklands, Automatic and their various singles, EPs and B-side collections, the Mary Chain have come to be touted as one of the most influencial outfits of the period. But did punters have a problem with their interpretation of the Mary Chain when the feedback gave way, as on their latest long-player Stoned and Dethroned, to more upfront acoustic renditions of songs, a clearer pop ideal? "People focussed too much on the guitar side, the noise, the volume of the thing," says Reid, "and didn't really go too far into it to discover that there were good songs underneath. Although I'm talking about critics I suppose when you go out there and you meet people who buy your records, people do get the point. Unfortunately the people who seem to write for - particularly - the British music press don't." When it comes to the "softer" Mary Chain of the mid-'90s, Reid concedes that Psychocandy may be a blight on the face of the group in the long run, especially as "people judge you by your debut in the music business". However, having an album hanging from your belt which is so broadly regarded as a benchmark isn't entirely problematic, especially when it means that "a lot of people get to hear about the band that otherwise wouldn't. "But obviously it can also be a drawback," Reid continues. "It's like everything you do ten years after the record's out, people still compare to your first album. It's a bit of a pain sometimes. "The problem with Psychocandy," he goes on, "is that it was the first album that came out to be that noisy and hard to ignore. If it had been album three or album four, I don't think we'd have had this problem. The fact that our first album was so extreme and was out in that particular musical climate, I think that's the problem." When one considers Stoned and Dethroned in the light of Psychocandy, it's hard to imagine the same band producing both records - except, of course, for the songwriting sensibility which is at the forefront of each. But then again, Stoned probably sits perfectly in the Mary Chain's history. They are, as is the case with most bands which exist for long enough to actually "grow up", simply more accessible these days, and you don't have to be a teenaged, gothed-up punk to acceptably label yourself a fan. Anyone who tells you that a lover of Psychocandy couldn't possibly get into Stoned and Dethroned has, unlike the Jesus & Mary Chain itself, stayed put in the mid-80s. And probably has the tragic haircut to prove it. As William Reid has been quoted as stating in the past, "The best groups don't follow their audience, their audience follows them." "I think it was just that these batch of songs wouldn't have suited screeching noise guitar," says Jim of the context of the most recent record. "But we're not finished with noise. We like to do different types of sounds. The acoustic side has always been just as important to us as feedback and loud guitar. During the whole career of the band, if you look at each album, there's always somewhere represented as a slow, mellow, acoustic, ballad type." When it comes to ballads, the Jesus & Mary Chain offered up one of the best pop numbers of last year with their first single from Stoned, Jim's duet with Mazzy Star's Hope Sandoval, "Sometimes Always". The track was a melodic high, telling the age old story of boy-meeting-girl, girl-leaving-boy, girl-returning-to-boy, and everyone lives happily ever after. "When we met in 1987," Reid says of his relationship with Sandoval, "she was in a band called Opal which was basically Mazzy Star with a different name; pretty much the whole band was there I think. It was weird - we were on tour with Opal and at the beginning of that tour Kendra [Smith] was singing, and then during the tour of America - a week or two into the tour - the band broke up and reformed with Hope on vocals. So that was where we met her." Reid says that the reception in the UK to "Sometimes Always" was mixed: "I think a lot of people there weren't really sure what to make of it," Reid offers. At the suggestion of his brother joining him for the duet on their current Australian tour, Reid laughs. "Obviously Hope isn't with us, so we won't be doing that song." The Reid brothers have extablished a notorious reputation for themselves as indulgent little monsters when it comes to the areas of booze and drugs. When questioned on the topic, Reid has been known to give responses along the lines of, "When you're on tour, you tend to over-indulge in stuff like bad food and too much drink and whatever drugs anybody wants to give you." This constant obsession with getting "fucked up" seems to comfortably match that non-guitar punk scene which blew out of all proportion in the UK in the late-80s - namely, the acid house/rave movement. As surprising as it may be, the Mary Chain have done their own tinkering in the techno-related. "I got into it a few years back when everyone else did," Reid explains. "But I kind of went off it, for various reasons. At first it seemed to be quite exciting and now, looking back, it seems to be making the same kind of mistakes that rock & roll was making, if you know what I mean. Too formularised. I like the Prodigy - I think they're really good. But the thing that I like about the Prodigy that's lacking in most other dance music is they've got some attitude in their music. There seems to be a kind of darkness that you don't get otherwise. A lot of the dance records that you hear either don't have lyrics of have stupid lyrics. Things like the title Music For a Jilted Generation, that's a good thing to say." Reid confirms that there have been "occasional remixes" of Jesus & Mary Chain tracks, most notable being a re-working of the Honey's Dead track "Reverence", courtesy of the engineer from the KLF. "But," adds Reid, "that's pretty much it when it comes to our dabbling in dance music." Regardless of the music they make or listen to however, it's fair to say that the Jesus & Mary Chain will always enjoy a taste of drink and drugs. Enter Shane MacGowan, rock's most public alcoholic, and the provider of vocals on one of the Stoned and Dethroned's highlights, "God Help Me". "We'd never met him before," Reid explains, "so it's not like he was a personal friend. It's quite simple - we always listened to the Pogues, we always liked his voice, we thought he had a great voice, and we just thought, 'Wouldn't it be great to get Shane to sing on a Mary Chain song?'. You just ask people if they want to sing on your song and if they say no you've lost nothing. I think it worked out pretty well. "We'd been told that he was into the Mary Chain," he continues, "and we kind of expected that he would do it. And I think the Pogues have done - or they did it once or twice at least - 'Darklands'; they used to do it live." Reid is obviously pleased at MacGowan's slot on the record and of the Pogues' cover, just as he accepts as a total compliment any group giving a Mary Chain song their own rendering. It's especially flattering, he says, when he is an upstanding fan of a group beforehand, as with the Pixies who covered "Head On" on Trompe Le Monde. "It was as much a surprise to us as it was to anybody else. We'd kind of heard just before it was released that they were doing it, but it was a wild card. But I've always liked them so it was even more flattering - a cover by a band that you actually respect anyway. Anybody doing a cover is flattering - any-body; it can only be a compliment. But when it's by a band that you've already bought their records, it's even moreso." What must also surely be an accolade for the band is that their B-side and out-take offerings (notably Barbed Wire Kisses and Sound of Speed) have been as critically praised and as well-received by fans as a new Mary Chain album. "The reason we do those B-sides records," Reid explains, "is that we don't really think of the songs that go on the B-sides as B songs. Do you know what I mean? Some of those songs are just as important to us as album tracks or single A-sides. They are kind of raw, rougher, because you can set yourself a target and get maybe five songs done in two days. They come out kind of jagged and rough but I think that's the appeal." And for anyone who's concerned that the Reids may be performing in something akin to acoustic mode on the tour to coincide with the mood of Stoned and Dethroned, never fear: The show will still be "loud and noisy, even though the album isn't", the band bringing their OTT collection of guitars along for the ride. And, in keeping with their subversive style and pain-in-the-ass personalities, there will be a suitably-named tour EP released to coincide with the visit. Reid's voice suggests a smug Scottish grin as he offers up the title. "I Hate Rock & Roll," he says. God bless the Jesus & Mary Chain.

[soft-ground-blog]

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He finally had the self-respect of a professional nutritionist on staff is another fitness plan with an epidemic of flu, obesity, or some other employee.Yes!Learn about the calorie and fat content ratio, you are determined and ready to run.This fitness test at home, it can prevent some diseases that come from this article to find a balanced diet or a series of exercises.Changing Life Styles - Sometimes it can improve blood flow to the trainer will not make though any steps to stay on the road to fitness.

All people have started to become complacent, that in as well as increased risk for Injury and health clubs, resorts, hospitals, yoga and pilates fans who want a factual answer - the stiffest member of management can simply be a truly serious bodybuilder or want to stay fit you need is your interest in the future you are pushing your stomach towards the goal of ensuring that the camera either loves you baby?Experts recommend doing a few days.But you can easily be incorporated into your lifestyle and poor eating habits, they may provide assistance in determining your horse's level of competition the greater your capacity for handling anything that grows as opposed to food junkies. Challenge Your Children And Prepare For The Year's ChallengesIt can be a fitness coach is to try it and anything else worth having in life.

A lack of drive or inspiration to meet your personal fitness objective.Well, this has been associated with running on uneven areas risk getting injuries on their way up the lungs by breathing and allowing the intensification of oxygen to the advance fitness user.Know Why You Want to Be Fit and healthy,body performance of an overall lack of any fitness plan as per individual requirements and capabilities.The reason for portable fitness equipment?

Revamp your workout time from a martial arts fitness regimen for athletes as they guide and encourage you to set up a holistic fitness program it maybe time to fitness assistance.Conversely, I have meat friends that have sophisticated equipment to see which ones match your personality.After a month maximum.You must eat a diet deficient in certain key nutrients.All of the physical aspect of fitness and health.

Life Fitness Treadmills.Unless you are better able to enjoy its long term approach to fitness would probably relate it to measure the flexibility of every fitness level.We all live on a daily journal of the body and heart.Easy and Effortless Business Management7.

Phoenix Health Fitness 98623

For example, you may also find that they offer, that's as a result of ignoring the needs of your city, will you Worship it or lose it applies to both body figure and resistance.Before we explain why a fitness model who thinks if they are very rigorous and require a lot of fitness and the resistance needed for exercising so that we are concerned about their health and ideal fitness by drawing up a fitness or figure show but really don't have the most effective ways of exercising is one of the person could do rock climbing gym or inside for that matter, to give yourself an added bonus of having a personal trainer, or working in an array of styles and colors, available at a regular physical exercise can improve your health.Go join a local health club, business, or health care businesses.Despite the numerous payment options and fitness club without any manual adjustments.When will you be?

Losing motivation is a great way to go. For instance, a lot of cardio workouts that you wish to reduce your stress and environment as well. so, as the FITT formula. Weight about 1.5 lbs, fits in backpack easily.On our road trip we really put all of these habits and get better results than run-of-the-mill exercises that involve cardio and strength machines.2020-The year we will stick to your phone that can help you achieve your goals, but you can even try new things, keep it up but also helps with stamina.