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somesuperherowrites · 4 years

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Wear My Clothes

spencer reid x plus!sized fem!reader

summary: you want to wear Spencer’s clothes, but can’t fit them.

...

You angrily balled up Spencer’s shirt in your hands. Spencer was so skinny that you never had imagined you’d be able to fit his shirts, but you had tried anyways. You couldn’t even fit your arms in the sleeves. You sighed and gently picked at the buttons which were obviously not going to button and bit your lip. Was there something so wrong about wanting to wear your boyfriend’s clothes?

You quickly straightened out the balled up shirt and replaced it on the hanger before you started crying. You grabbed your big t-shirt that was laying on the bed and fumbled putting it back on.

You had decided to try on his shirt when Spencer was out on a case, because you didn’t want to cry in front of him. Spencer was kind, and you knew that if Spencer had seen you crying in his clothes, he would have moved moutains to convince you that you were beautiful. But, you didn’t want to hear that. You just wanted to fit effortlessly into your boyfriend’s clothes.

You trudged back into the closet and hung his purple button-up back in its place. Your gaze lingered a little longer on his section of the closet before you closed the door.

You sniffled as you crawled into bed. Spencer was coming back home tomorrow, you should just focus on that.

... later that week ...

Spencer swirled his coffee around in his mug. You had been feeling down the past week and Spencer couldn’t figure out why. When he had gotten home from the last case and unpacked, he noticed some of his clothes were out of place. Were you unhappy with him? Were you packing up his stuff? Did you want him to leave?

Emily and J.J. walked into the breakroom as Spencer sipped his coffee while deep in thought.

The women looked at Spencer and then each other. J.J. cleared her throat and Spencer looked up.

“Oh, hi guys.”

J.J. furrowed her brow, “okay, what’s wrong.”

Spencer sighed deeply, “I think Y/N is unhappy with me and wants me to move out.”

Emily scoffed and had to control herself from rolling her eyes. You and Spencer were so in love with each other that something else definitely had to be going on. “Okay genius, why do you think that.”

“Because everything points to that!” Spencer was beginning to get frustrated and hurt at the thought of you kicking him out.

“Okay Spence, you’re going to have to be a little more specific.” J.J. gently patted his arm and led him over to sit at the table.

“Well.. she’s been unhappy all week...” Spencer began stumbling over his words, “and... and when I came home from the last case some of my clothes were out of place. I really think she wants me to move out and this is her way of telling me.”

Emily and J.J. couldn’t help but share a look and chuckle at Reid.

He pouted and was beginning to grow frustrated, “nevermind guys.”

He started to stand up and march away when J.J. gently stopped him. “Spence, we’re not laughing because we think she’s going to break up with you. We’re laughing because you’re so dense.”

Spencer looked at her confused, “what?”

“Spencer, I wear Will’s shirts to bed all the time. They’re comfy.”

Soencer softened at this, “you think she’s wearing my clothes when I’m on a case?”

“I always take one of Will’s shirts with me when we’re gone. It smells like him and reminds me of who’s waiting for me back home.”

At this, Emily chimed in, “yeah! She probably just misses you, Spencer.”

J.J. cleared her throat and looked down at her own mug that was in her hand. “and um.. I think the reason that she’s unhappy is that she misses you and wants to wear your clothes...” J.J. trailed off.

“Well, I don’t have a problem with her wearing my clothes.” Spencer furrowed his brow,” Why would she be unhappy?”

Emily scoffed, “well Spencer, you’re kind of a stick. You weigh like what 130? 140?”

Realization dawned on Spencer. “She wants to wear them, but they don’t fit her,” he breathed out.

“Yeah.” J.J. said.

Spencer jumped up from the table and rushed toward the door while yelling back a quick “thanks!” to Emily and J.J.

Spencer wasted no time in going to the nearest store and buying a variety of men’s clothing in your size. He changed into one of the dressier shirts in his car and tucked the excess material into his waistband. He finished off the outfit by throwing a sweater over his shirt so the fact that it was larger wasn’t as noticeable. He quickly headed back to the office where everyone was gathered in the briefing room.

Hotch looked up from his notes as Reid walked in, “you’re late.”

Spencer looked at him apologetically as Garcia started presenting the case.

The briefing was over in a few minutes with Hotch announcing wheels up in 20. The team was going to Idaho for a case, which was perfect for Spencer’s plan.

Spencer dialed your number on his phone and waited for you to pick up.

He smiled when your soft voice answered, “Hey, Spence.”

“Hey, Y/N. We just got a case, so the team’s going to be heading up to Idaho.”

You hummed in response. “Do you know when you’ll be home?”

Spencer frowned, “Not for a few days at least, but I won’t know until we get to the local PD and start a preliminary profile.”

You sighed. “Okay, call me before going to bed tonight? I love you, Spence.”

“I will. Love you, Y/N.” Spencer ended the call as Derek gestured for him to come on. Spencer hurriedly stuffed a couple of shirts that he bought that morning in his go bag and followed Derek out of the bullpen.

...

As soon as the plane took off, the team gathered around to try and start a profile. As Spencer was moving to be closer to the group, Emily noticed he was wearing different clothes than this morning.

She gave a slight smile before clearing her throat, “Spencer, did you change clothes?”

Spencer blushed at her question as J.J. gave a slight laugh, “Oh my god, he did.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow while looking at Spencer’s attire, “okay, what am I missing?”

Spencer mumbled “nothing,” while Emily and J.J. were both smiling widely at him.

J.J. walked by and tucked Spencer’s collar into his sweater. “He bought bigger shirts to wear so that they will fit his girlfriend. That way when she wants to wear his clothes while he’s gone, she can.”

Derek ruffled Spencer’s hair, “Uh, oh. Pretty boy’s got moves.”

Spencer was blushing wildly now as the team’s continued to coo over how romantic he was. Even Hotch had a small smile as he flipped through the case file.

Garcia popped up on the screen, and Spencer hurriedly changed the topic back to the case, “Garcia, anything new?”

“Yes actually, a new body was just found outside of Boise, I am sending the new information to your tabl- wait, Spencer are you blushing?”

The team stifled their laughs as Derek waved at Garcia, “hey, thank you babygirl. I’ll fill you in later.”

Garcia winked at him, “looking forward to it. Garcia out.”

...

The case had only lasted a few days, and Spencer was more than ready to see you, and you were currently propped on the couch anxiously waiting to see him.

As soon as you heard the key turn in the door, you shuffled to the door. Spencer entered the apartment and tossed his bags on the ground. As he closed the door and turned to you, you bolted into his open arms. You nuzzled your head into his chest and breathed deeply. “I missed you.”

“You know studies have shown that women report feeling comforted when smelling their partner’s scent, and some research has even found that cortisol levels are reduced in stressful situations when paired with a loved one’s scent.”

“Hmm, interesting.” You said as you cuddled into him.

Spencer chuckled and kissed the top of your head. “I know for a fact that I feel more at home with your arms wrapped around me.”

You leaned up your head up slightly so you could see his expression - you smiled broadly when all you saw was Spencer’s look of adoration. He leaned down and gently placed a kiss on your lips. You hummed contentedly. You lingered in Spencer’s arms for a second more before breaking away to grab his bag and take it to the bedroom.

You started unzipping his bag, so that you could throw his clothes in the washer with yours, but Spencer quickly caught your hand in his.

“Y/N... I don’t want you to be offended.” Spencer started.

You furrowed your brows confused as to what Spencer meant. “Why would I be offended?”

“Well before I left I noticed that you were feeling down, and.. well you know I hate it when you feel like that. I wanted to do anything and everything I could to make you feel better, but I couldn’t figure out what was bothering you.” Spencer was talking rapidly now and you sighed deeply.

“Spencer-“ you started. You wanted to reassure him that nothing was wrong, but he cut you off before you finish your thought.

“No... just let me finish. I talked with J.J. and Emily about it, and they gave me a hint as to what might have been wrong. After thinking about it, I came to the same conclusion, but I don’t want it to offend you if I’m wrong.”

“Spencer, I know you would never purposely offend me. Will you please let me open the bag?”

Spencer obliged and moved his hand from ontop of yours. You looked at him for a second to study his expression. He looked slighty worried, but also eager? You couldn’t wrap your head around what would be in the bag to make him feel this way.

You hesitantly unzipped the bag and pulled out a white button-down. You gave Spencer a confused look, “You got new clothes?”

Spencer nodded.

You held up the first shirt that you had grabbed and saw that it was your size. You continued to pull out a couple more button-downs, setting them gently on the bed. You brought one up to your nose and inhaled deeply. They smelled like Spencer. Tears began prickling at your eyes and you looked toward Spencer.

He looked as you held up his shirt with tears in your eyes and immediately began to panic. You looked so hurt, and he had done this. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ll throw them away.”

He reached for the shirt and you jerked it out of his reach, “No!”

Spencer tilted his head confused, “what’s wrong? why are you crying?”

You began crying harder. Spencer was so clueless to how sweet and romantic this gesture was. He stepped forward and enveloped you in his arms. “Talk to me, Y/N.”

You nuzzled into his chest and gripped his shirt tighter as he petted your hair.

“Spencer-“ you broke from his embrace and placed one hand on his cheek. “this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He let out a relieved sigh and started rambling, “I’m so glad you like it.. J.J. said you probably miss me when I go on cases and she likes to wear Will’s shirts, but you don’t have any of mine to wear. So I wore them for this case so they would have my scent on them. You know experts actually don’t know how long it takes for a shirt to smell like you, so I just estimated based on what was available from the research, and -“

You chuckled and stood on your tip toes to plant a kiss on his lips, “I love you Spencer Reid.”

He smiled and caught your lips in another kiss, “I love you Y/N.”

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x plus!sized reader

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keenesbeans · 4 years

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Daycare

Requested by anonymous asked: Maybe a Spencer Reid x reader where the reader works at the day care that Spencer comes in and picks up Henry from time to time! Just sweet lil interactions until he finally asks her out :) I love your work!

Taglist: @thatsonezesty13 @slutforthegubes @hazel-howell @rachelssafespace @lindaze @babyswiftie-13 @amofbebbanburg

Requests are Closed!

Category: FLUFF

Couple: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Just Pure fluff!

Word Count: 1,446

******

“Tell Me and I Forget; Teach Me and I May Remember; Involve Me and I Learn” - Benjamin Franklin

“I just want to make sure that you picked a good daycare for Henry.” Spencer exclaimed to JJ for what felt like the thousand times that day. “Children who spend time in day care could be more socially aware than children who spend no time in day care. According to Reuters, a 2010 study by the U.S. National Institutes of Health showed that children who attended a high-quality daycare were less likely to act out, in part because of the support, interaction and cognitive stimulation received there, and you want Henry to be socially aware, right, JJ?”

“Yes, of course I do, Spence is that even a question, “ JJ rolled her eyes at the question but knew that Spencer had Henry’s best interest in mind and that he wasn’t trying to be an asshole towards her. She also knew that he wouldn’t get off her back until he had proof that it was a good daycare. So she had an idea.

“Why don’t you pick Henry up from daycare at 4:00 so you can see if it is up to the Spencer Reid standard of excellence.” JJ told him, immediately a smile spread across Spencer's face. “Yes, yes that I can do and if it's not up to my standard we could discuss some other options I have in mind. I have 10 different pamphlets on my desk.” Spencer stated and picked up his satchel and headed towards the elevator noticing that the time was 3:30.

“Pamphlets!?!?” JJ sighed and shook her head knowing that she couldn’t stop Spencer from doing his research on a daycare center, even though she had only mentioned looking into one a month ago.

But there was no stopping Dr. Spencer Reid from doing his research. But, deep down JJ knew that there was something special about this specific daycare center, no not something, someone.

Someone that Henry came home every day raving about and would sometimes even ask JJ if she could come home with him.

You

Spencer parked his care outside of Laugh n' Learn Academy gratefully that he was right on time and not a second late. He never liked to be late especially for something as important as making sure his godson went to a good daycare center.

Spencer was as determined as even to tell JJ that after his inspection the center was not up to his standards but, as soon as he entered the building his whole demeanor changed. There was something about walking inside that just made him feel happy and safe, a feeling that he had not felt in a very long time.

And that’s when he spotted Henry laughing and running around with the other children, his eyes looking around the playpen looking for someone and when he spotted his target he ran his little legs right over to her and jumped into her arms.

And that was when Spencer spotted you, it felt like the world had stopped rotating and in that moment it was just him and her the gorgeous stranger that was holding on to his godson with such love and affection, and in that moment Spencer wished that she was the one that he was holding.

You looked up to see what had distracted Henry, hearing him repeat over and over again “Uncle Spencer, Uncle Spencer!” and saw him looking and he felt his knees give out and nearly fell, he had to hold on to the reception desk to stop himself from falling over. She smiled at him as she put Henry down on the ground so he could run to his Uncle, that JJ had called earlier about to you that he was picking him up instead of her, JJ had also warned you about him saying that he was an odd taste but, you would get used to him.

But, you don’t think she was warning you about the way your body felt when you looked at him, you had never felt a feeling like this before. You felt like you were dying and he was the cure, you were the sunflower and he was the sun, he was the moon to your sun.

The missing piece to your puzzle, your other half, your soulmate.

You finally got yourself together and brought yourself back to Earth and away from the fantasies that played in your head and walked over to the beautiful stranger, that you hoped wouldn’t be a stranger for long.

“Uncle Spencer, this is my teacher Miss y/n, she’s my favorite!!!” the little boy was excited for two of the most important people in the world (besides his parents and his godmother, Penelope) to finally meet.

“Dr. Spencer Reid, it’s a pleasure to meet you JJ called me earlier to let me know that you were picking up Henry, although she didn’t tell me much about you, I’m hoping we could change that soon.” You flirted with him a blush creeping up on both your faces, you never were so bold in your flirtations (especially not at work) but something about this man changed that. All you wanted to do was know more about him, you felt a magnetic pull towards him as soon as he walked into the room.

Spencer didn’t even know what to say, which was a first to him since he was always spurting out random facts and anecdotes. So that is what he did.

“Did you know that in a study conducted by the Institute of Child Development at the University of Minnesota, children under age 3 who spend time in day care may experience more stress than children of the same age who are not in day care. Children in the study exhibited higher levels of cortisol, a stress hormone, when they were in the middle of full days at day care; the cortisol levels went down when they went back home. Those children were described as being more shy, a trait which could cause stress in a social environment. However, day care might not be the only cause of the stress; children inevitably must participate in some social environments once they reach elementary school-age.” As soon as he finished his rant embarrassment took over his whole body sputtering apology after apology.

All you did was giggle, which was a sound that Spencer could never stop listening to and wanted to hear on repeat, but he was also confused on why you were laughing but, before he could ask you answered his question. Like you had already known what he was going to say.

“You know JJ did tell me about your little rants, but I must say that was amazing and I know that you have the best interest in mind when it comes to your godson but, look at him Spencer does he look stressed out to you?” You asked him as you both peered over at Henry who had gone back to playing with his friends, a giant smile spread about his face as he waved at you both before he went back to playing.

You weren't just some mindless worker only doing this job for money, you did this because you loved kids and watching them grow and develop and one day you hoped to open up your own daycare center. And Spencer had finally realized this, he knew that he would tell JJ as soon as they left that this center did in fact meet his standard of excellence.

But, he wasn’t going to tell her the real reason he had given the daycare his seal of approval.

You

*****

From that moment on Spencer was a familiar face you saw when he had the chance to pick up Henry. You both lived for the couple minutes a day that both of you were together, because when you were together it felt as if time was at a stand still.

After what felt like weeks of Spencer picking up Henry and only talking to you for a couple of minutes before he made his quick escape, too worried that he was going to embarrass himself in front of you. He had finally gathered up the courage to ask you on a date.

And when he did it just felt right, like everything that had happened in your life had finally led up to that specific moment in time, and you couldn’t stop yourself from being overcome with joy at his question that you, of course, said yes without even thinking twice.

And from that moment on, you and Spencer were inseparable, two halves that were finally put together, you were meant for him and he was meant for you.

*****

I cannot say that I ultimately believe at love at first sight. What I do believe in is that there are certain people who have chemistry between them.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #imagines #jenifer jareau #bau team

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dailyservingofhope · 4 years

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Bodies (Chapter 2)

Kyoko noticed first.

Maybe it was the monotone voice, or the way my eyelids drooped with world-weary cynicism. Something about me betrayed that I was no longer myself in the most literal way possible.

She lurched back, "It's him!"

The fifteen seconds that followed were a roller-coaster. Not those rickety, old wooden coasters. I'm talking about the metal ones that hurl you screaming through dives, loops, and corkscrews so fast, you can't even anticipate the next section before you've already rocketed through it.

After Kyoko alerted the room to Izuru's presence, an armed security team appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and just an arm's reach away. They must have hid themselves in the shadows, but even then, shouldn't I have heard them close in? And why were they raising their guns at an empty pod? By the time I realized they were aiming at MY pod, and that I had closed the distance without even noticing, my hands had already disarmed the nearest guard with a few deft movements. Then my legs whipped around in a tornado kick that sent her flying into the other guards, knocking them over like bowling pins.

Finally, Izuru raised my arm, which still held the confiscated handgun, and fired a series of quick, perfect shots aimed to cripple each guard's trigger finger. Their weapons clattered to the ground.

Izuru's power and apathy stunned me. So much blood, and the noise from the gunfire was incredible, yet Izuru strolled through the carnage, collecting the remaining guns as casually as a kid picking flowers. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn't even control that.

"Stop!" Makoto shouted, laughably late. He ran in front of Izuru and stretched out his arms protectively. He seemed so small next to Izuru's overwhelming presence, but his bravery was admirable. This was the person we all put our trust in.

Izuru said, "I have no intention of harming any of you so long as you do not harm Hajime. There's no sense in violence between us. However, I will not allow you to point weapons at him." His voice through my mouth unsettled me, like when you hear yourself speak in an audio recording for the first time. It's technically you, but something just seems off about it.

"They're under my orders not to fire unless I say so, and I don't plan on saying so," Makoto said before turning his attention to a communication device pinned to his suit. "I need medical assistance in the pod room."

As Makoto and the rest of the trio tried to appease the moaning, pissed-off guards, I overheard Kyoko whisper to Byakuya, "Sedating the survivors was a good idea. Letting them all wake up at once probably wouldn't have ended well."

It was true. We were still dangerous. Even I was afraid of us.

The nurses quickly arrived and began escorting the wounded away when Izuru spoke up, "Hajime is hurt too." He raised my fists to show the broken skin on my knuckles from punching the glass lid.

Everyone gaped at him.

I almost laughed at how ridiculous it was. The guy who just shot up an entire security team was now worried about a few cuts and scrapes. I wondered why he even bothered asking when he seemed content to act on his own in every other way. Was he trying to... work with them?

Makoto forgot how to speak for a moment. His jaw worked until his words caught up, "Yeah, can someone please assist him with that? Oh, and Izuru? We'll be there shortly to ask you some questions."

"I will answer any question I deem acceptable." Izuru said while a very terrified-looking nurse led him away.

A fragment of glass plinked into a dish, then another. Izuru, armed with a pair of tweezers, cleared the debris from my wounds with a level of care that I didn't expect from him. The nurse offered to help, but he refused, insisting that he could do a better job himself. It was astoundingly rude, but I couldn't deny how painless it was when Izuru handled it.

Still, there was no way I'd give him a compliment after what he did. I scowled at him, however one scowls without a face of their own.

He ignored me, focusing instead on washing my wounds with soap and warm water. It felt strange, but pleasant. The hand he used to massage my wounded knuckles felt like it belonged to another person, like it belonged to Izuru. I blushed at the sensation of him sliding his soapy palm up and down my hand.

"Do you want me to stop?" Izuru transmitted.

"Uh... Yeah, I think they're clean enough."

He dried my hand and applied ointment, then finished with a bandage. "I know you're unhappy not being in control, but this will go more quickly and easily for you if you let me answer their questions."

"Fine, but once you're done, this body is mine."

"I predict you will decide otherwise when you hear what I have to say. So calm down, elevated levels of cortisol are linked to a variety of health problems."

I was about to transmit a big "fuck off" when Kyoko entered the room.

"If you're ready, please come with us."

Compared to the futuristic pod room, the conference room looked dilapidated. The lack of cobwebs and dust told me someone cleaned it recently, but long term structural damage from years of neglect couldn't be wiped away with a wet cloth. The walls cracked and water damage warped the floor. It was obvious they spent all their resources on the pod room. On us.

My shame at being powerless to control Izuru, after everything they did for us, made me feel tiny and pathetic. I wished I had the confidence to vow never to let it happen again, but at that moment, I was like a child locked away in a room. I was at the mercy of someone stronger; someone that my small, reserve-course mind didn't know how to reason with.

I sulked in the background as Makoto, Kyoko, and Byakuya interrogated Izuru. His answers helped me to fill some gaps in my memory, but there was one thing I kept asking myself.

As if he could read my thoughts, Makoto asked for me, "Why did you do this? Why did you upload the Junko AI into the simulation?"

"I had a question. Of hope and despair, I needed to weigh their merits and decide once and for all which side I would take. But I couldn't determine the answer with the knowledge I had on hand, so I ran an experiment. I learned of the simulation you were developing and concluded it would be a sufficient stage."

"There's something I don't understand. You seem to want to protect Hajime, yet you allowed that to happen to him?"

"I did not foresee him being harmed in any of my calculations."

Did I hear him right? Did he really just say that?

What kind of soulless freak did those scientists turn me into? All the death, the fear, the doubt, the grief. He didn't consider that harmful? My friends and I could have been happy! We could have walked out of that simulation, together! Now, we were either dead or traumatized. All because of him. Not harmed? I wanted to scream! I wanted to wrap my fingers around my own throat! I wanted to stand up and...

Somehow, the force of my emotions was enough to reclaim control. Rage flooded my chest until it burned away the cold of Izuru's grip on me. I leaped out of my chair, slammed my hands on the table and shouted, "That's wrong!"

Everyone looked surprised, including me. I'd fought Izuru and won. Even if it was only this one battle, that still meant something. And now that I could speak again, I just wanted to be heard. "I WAS harmed! It hurt to see my friends die! It hurt to live in fear every day that I would be next! I'm covered in wounds you can't even see!"

Emotionally spent, I flopped back in my chair and wept. I didn't care that others could see me cry. I was tired. So tired.

Through my sobs I thought I heard Izuru transmit a faint "I'm sorry", but that couldn't be right.

After my quaking body relaxed, Kyoko said softly, "Hajime, I assume we're talking to you now. I'm sorry, we misunderstood your situation. When we spoke to you and Izuru as distinct, separate individuals, we thought you were like a friend of ours who has a condition called Dissociative Identity Disorder. Do you know what that is?"

"Yeah, I've heard of it," I said, wiping my face with a hand. "It's like multiple personalities right?"

"Something like that... Although most people with that disorder aren't aware of their other 'personalities' and don't know what they say or do when they're in control. We assumed you were dormant. Hajime, if we had known you were aware and listening this entire time, this would have gone differently."

"Why are you so worried about me, you should be locking me up. I can't control him." I muttered.

Makoto looked horrified, "We didn't release you just to lock you up again! Don't give up hope. Izuru seems to care about you. Maybe we can convince him to not take control without asking."

Byakuya stood up, "Makoto, I've let you try things your way, but your naivete is going to kill us. Izuru is clearly using Hajime as a shield. He's counting on our leniency because whatever we do to Izuru, we do to Hajime. There must be something he still wants from us. That's why we're not dead."

"We shouldn't jump to conclusions, but that is something I've been wondering about," Kyoko said. "Do you know why he's so protective of you, Hajime?"

That now familiar sensation of cold water once again flooded through me. Izuru regained control and held it fast.

"That is not an acceptable question," he said.

Why was he so flighty around the subject of me? I suddenly found myself intensely curious. Maybe I could find a weakness in that nearly impenetrable armor.

"He's Izuru again." Kyoko sighed, "Do you realize it's unfair to Hajime to keep taking over without asking? Bodily autonomy is a basic human right."

"You misunderstand. I have no interest in taking control of his life. There's nothing I want out here. As soon as I've done my job, the body is his."

Makoto smiled, "That's great! Thanks for being so reasonable about it!"

"Wait," Byakuya said. "What is this 'job' exactly?"

"Hajime's friends who died in the simulation, I can revive them. All of them."

#kamuhina #hajime hinata #izuru kamukura #danganronpa #sdr2 #my fic

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221bshrlocked · 5 years

Text

Slow Hands

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 1987

Warnings: Bucky’s hands.

A/N: This just came to me out of nowhere and I had to write it when it was still fresh and I wasn’t hit by writer’s block. Enjoy. There may be a second part I don’t know.

Next Part

You weren’t sure how this started or when you had this obsession. All you knew was that it was sudden and you could think of nothing else but this. It sort of freaked you out too because in your mind, not many people took notice of such a thing. You tried to hide it and you thought you were doing a pretty good job. But then Natasha started smiling at you and shaking her head every time she walked by you, and you realized you weren’t as subtle. No one else noticed though so you blamed her perceptive nature for finding out your secret.

As long as he didn’t know, you had no problem. Well, that wasn’t true. You had a huge problem, this problem being one beefy as fuck super soldier who was comfortable enough to walk around in short sleeve shirts. You wished you could hate him but it warmed your heart knowing he was getting a little better day by day. But every god damn day was too much at times and you knew it was only a matter of time before others noticed your lingering gazes over the man.

But it wasn’t that you stared at him for too long that was the issue. It was where you constantly looked. No matter what he was doing, your eyes seemed to always admire, yeah that’s the word, admire his hands. You thought it was like any other person you’ve been attracted to before but this was different. It would have made sense if you were staring at his arms. He was a specimen, him and Steve, with their upper body strength and triceps constantly flexing under severe workouts. It’s not like people didn’t notice them you know. Every human, whether or not they are attracted to muscular bodies, find them at least pleasant to look at.

Anyway, the point is, it wasn’t his arms you liked to stare it. It was his hands. And what made it worse was you didn’t prefer one over the other. You just liked looking at both of them. When he was doing a minimal task such as writing in his notebook, you’d take in the blue veins shifting as he applied pressure on the writing tool. You’d notice your breathing pattern shift when he’d drag his wrist across the paper and stop writing, leaving his arms facing to the side and giving you the perfect view of the veins continuing up this arm. Your eyes would ignore the biceps flexing, gaze focusing on his rugged, long fingers tapping at the paper or remaining still as he thought of what to write next. You wished you could touch his fingers and trace the knuckles to his wrist, pulling them to your lips and leaving soft kisses to make him feel better.

But then there were days when you’d want to look at nothing else but his metal hand. You’d watch when he made breakfast or carry something with Steve, the metal plates shifting and creating that lovely whirring noise you’d grown fond of. It was your luck day when you caught him at the gym, lifting god knows what with ease and without breaking a sweat. You’d watch as his metal fingers wrapped over the bars and gripped them tight enough to carry but not too hard to break them. He’d somehow known how much pressure to apply on different textured objects and you’d wondered what it was like if he wrapped those same fingers around your neck as he kissed and licked and bruised every inch of your skin. You wanted nothing more than to kiss the tips of his metal fingers and trace the grooves and plates down to his wrist, telling him how beautiful and complex they were and making sure he understood how amazing he was.

You almost banged your head against the door shelf when Natasha snapped her fingers in front of you, sighing when you spilled your drink and scattered to clean it up quickly.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“N-nothing. Nothing at all. Why would you ask that? I am perfectly fine. Nothing to ask about here.” You mopped the juice away and chugged down the drink, leaving it in the sink before heading downstairs.

You walked into the lab and immediately regretted it. Bucky was on one of the chairs, smiling and waving at you when he saw you enter.

“Hey doctor, you needed me?” You nodded towards Bucky and tried to ignore your heart wanting to leap out of your chest like a fucking alien from those movies.

“Yeah you’re just in time. I need to fix something in his arm Tony isn’t here.” Bruce motioned for you to walk towards them.

“And you asked me? I’m not sure I’m the best option here. Maybe Nat or Steve would be better i-“

“No you’re helping me. It’s nothing, I just need you to hold this while I work on his inner arm. Come on I don’t have all day.” Bruce brought you around and stood you right next to Bucky. You smiled at him and tried to ignore his cologne but it was impossibly hard to distract yourself from the man who seemed to tower over you even when he was sitting down.

“Sorry Y/N,” Bucky apologized and you wished you could hug him and tell him he had nothing to apologize about and you’d only dreamt of touching his hands from the first moment you saw him.

“No biggie.” You chuckled, mentally kicking yourself over the stupid response. You asked Bruce where he needed you to hold and he placed one hand over the wrist while the other remained at the bicep. Bucky shivered when he felt your skin because even though it wasn’t his flesh and blood currently attached to his shoulder, he could still feel sensations from the vibranium endings attached to his nerves. Shuri was brilliant and it scared him how much he sometimes felt his arm when he performed mundane tasks.

He watched as you remained still, his heart fluttering when he noticed you were absolutely fine with touching him and you weren’t put off in the slightest. Bruce got to work and continued to speak to the two of you about some scientific break he had and you tried your hardest to focus on him but you couldn’t, not when your fingers were doing what you’ve wanted to do for so fucking long. So busy on trying to catch up to Bruce, you didn’t notice when Bucky’s fingers closed over your forearm that was right above his palm. Your eye widened and you tapped your feet out of nervousness. The cold of his fingers felt so good wrapped around your skin and you’d gotten flashes of what you were thinking of earlier.

You looked up, only to find Bucky staring right at you, pupils dilated and jaws clenching when you licked your lips. He’d seen your reaction and focused on the increased heart rate, misunderstanding you and immediately letting go of your arm before looking away. You realized he thought you were probably inconvenienced by this situation and were about to say something when Bruce told you he was finished.

“Thanks Y/N,” Bruce said, lightly pushing you away so he could finish up with Bucky’s arm. You wished Bucky would look at you so you could say something but he found the floor much more interesting. You made your way silently through the hallways, completely ignoring Steve when he’d asked if you’d seen Bucky and groaning at Sam when he tried to talk to you about the movie he watched with Clint.

It was hours later when you walked out of your room and headed to the kitchen for a midnight snack. You wanted to forget what happened earlier desperately but all you remembered were Bucky’s disappointed eyes when you looked at him.

“I detect above-average levels of cortisol in your nervous system Ms. Y/N, do you require assistance with anything?” Friday broke the silence and you hated how aware she was of everyone in this building.

“I am a nervous system Friday.” You laughed at the stupid joke and whispered ‘never mind’ to the AI. “That’s okay Friday, my problem can’t be solved by anyone except the man himself.” You opened the bottle of water and looked for the Oreos Sam always hid from you.

“Perhaps I could request this person’s presence? If it will help.” You started to grow tired from Friday and wished you could just tell her to shut up.

“Oh god no I would die of embarrassment Friday. I’ll get over it soon trust me.” You rummaged through the bottom drawers and sighed in annoyance when you didn’t find them. Remembering where you saw him earlier today, you decided to climb the counter and look at the top shelves you were too short to reach. “Besides, it’s not like I can just ask him to wrap those beautiful metal fingers around my throat as he fucked me into Valhalla now can I? Ahaa…oh ffuck-” You found the Oreos but didn’t see the plastic bag on the counter, already anticipating the pain from the fall.

But you never hit the ground. In fact, you never hit anything. All you knew was that you were currently held against a firm chest with a cold sensation hitting your thighs while a warmer one was wrapped around your waist. You looked up and saw Bucky staring at you like he’d just seen a ghost. You blinked at him and swallowed the lump in your throat, watching as he mirrored your action, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down before it returned to its place. It was quiet for a few moments before he placed you down, refusing to move away from you even when you’d thanked him.

He said nothing, not bothering to respond to your nervous rambling. He only stared because he was sure he misheard you. There was no way you’d just said to the fucking AI of all things that you wanted to feel his metal fingers choking you as he fucked you. He had to have been imagining. Right?

You forgot why you were in the kitchen and quickly thanked him before sprinting to your room. As soon as you walked in, you shut the door and crawled under your covers. Now that you knew what both his hands felt like on your skin, you were sure there was no sleep coming anytime soon. You wanted to feel them again. Now. On your flushed body. But that wasn’t going to happen so you did the next best thing. You stripped to nothing and fucked yourself to the thought of Bucky’s hands roaming your body and pinching your nipples and fingering your cunt. You’d screamed your release over and over again, crying into the pillow one orgasm after another.

The problem was, the walls were thin and your next-door neighbor could definitely hear those little sighs and whimpers. Bucky walked to his room and shut the door, repeating what you said over and over again. And when you began touching yourself, he thought he was going crazy. He listened as you pleasured yourself for hours with his name falling from your lips time and again. He looked down at his hands as you begged him for release with whatever hand he wanted to use on you and he genuinely thought he’d died and gone to heaven. You weren’t disgusted by his hand, you were turned on by it. It explained so much: the increased heart rate, the dilated pupils, the sweaty palms, the nervous tapping, and finally, those ragged breaths he wanted to feel on his cheek.

He went to sleep that night with a smile on his face, already coming up with a plan to drive you crazy until you couldn’t take it anymore. This was going to be fun.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky's hands #bucky barnes #bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan hands #i need help #we all need help #we were all thinking this #i just decided to do something about it

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bwglifestyle · 3 years

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The Importance of a Clutter-Free Home - How This Impacts Your Mental Wellbeing

No matter how hard we try, clutter is often something that is unavoidable. Due to a lack of time, that little corner as you walk in the house can sometimes become the dumping ground for all your little trinkets you put down as you enter the house. However, just like that dumping ground in your corner, your mind, too, can become clogged if not de-cluttered. Clutter is bad for our health and can often have a profound negative effect on our anxiety levels, sleep, and ability to focus.

Clutter has been linked to chronic stress, weight gain and even depression. If you’re asking “why is clutter bad for me, and how can I fix this?” you’ve come to the right place.

How Clutter affects our mind

When we allow our cupboards to burst, clothing to pile, or papers to stack around the house, we instantly drain our brains by the constant visual reminders of what has to be sorted or done. It may seem relatively harmless at first, but without even realising it you are draining your cognitive resources in the mind. Our brains enjoy order and structure, and when you allow the space around you to become disorganised you essentially reduce the working memory, essential to everyday living. By clearing just one area of clutter, you could substantially improve your ability to focus and process information, as well as increase productivity both at work and at home.

Besides this, the mounds around your home could be impacting the relationships of those around you. Clutter can inhibit the ability to interpret the emotional expressions on people’s faces. Coupled with the inability to focus and process information that is discussed with you, your conversations could become a struggle, leaving you feeling frustrated and overwhelmed. And don’t think for a second that it’ll all disappear when you lay your head down to rest. It’s been proven that sleeping in a cluttered room makes you more likely to have sleeping problems, including difficulties in falling asleep and being disturbed during the night.

Clutter eventually begins to chip away at your mental health. The lack of energy thanks to the sleepless nights, and difficulty concentrating can further lead to depression, making it even more difficult to start cleaning up.

The dangers of clutter on your health

In cases where houses are extremely packed up with clutter, the response of our body and brains is that of a fight or flight response, constantly taxing our physical resources designed for survival. These in turn can trigger psychological changes that affect how our bodies digest our food and ward off infections and illnesses. Research found that people who lived in cluttered homes had higher levels of cortisol, which is a stress hormone, in their bodies.

These psychological triggers can also lead to poor eating habits, and thus weight gain. People in cluttered environments were found to be more likely to eat unhealthy snacks and junk food, than those who were in a less busy surroundings.

Speaking of risks to your health, living in an extremely messy environment also increases your risk of physical injury. Tripping over items that are left lying around as well as the potential fire risk, especially when these items block your escape route, should be a good enough reason to start clearing up the spaces around you.

So what can you do about it?

Sometimes clutter in the home could be a sign of an underlying mental health issue, and in these cases it’s important that you consult a qualified councillor or therapist. However, by starting small and setting manageable goals for yourself, you’ll see how quickly the spaces around you (and your mind) improve. In fact, clutter is one of the easiest life stressors to fix.

When beginning to declutter, remember the following; if you don’t use it, don’t need it, and don’t want it – then toss it, recycle it or donate it.

Here are FIVE KEY STEPS to a less cluttered home

Start with small areas, such as a drawer in the kitchen, or your cupboard. Try to complete at least one small task per day. Even making your bed or doing the dishes is a good start. By finishing one small area at a time, it gives you a sense of accomplishment as you see your successes and begin benefitting from them.

Create designated places for items. Frequently used items should have a spot that is easily accessible in order to find it quickly and easily when needed. However, try to make those spots in drawers or cupboards – in other words, out of sight. If items are left stored on open shelves or countertops, your mind still “sees” these items and the visual stimuli will continue to stress you out.

Everything has a place and everything in its place. When something is taken out to be used, ensure that it is returned once you are finished using it. It sounds extremely simple, but it actually takes a lot of practice and commitment.

Papers are the worst! Random papers piled up everywhere are one of the greatest stressors when it comes to clutter. Mail, menus, newspapers, etc. are constantly filing our homes, but the key here is to be conscious of what you bring into the house. Also try to throw away any unnecessary paperwork, as soon as possible.

Keep at it. It is important to never give up on the process of decluttering. Although you went through a major deep clean in January, the couple of months passed means more paperwork, another Birthday, another occasion where items have come into the house and are sitting uninvited in that drawer, that corner or on the desktop. Start your process all over again to ensure your house is kept clutter-free at all times.

Top Tips

If you use it, but only rarely, store it in a box in the garage and put a date on the box. If you haven't opened the box in a year, whatever is inside is probably not something you need. Get rid of it. One person’s trash is another’s treasure.

At work, it’s absolutely normal for things to get a bit crazy when you’re working but try to make sure you declutter your workspace before you leave every day. Put everything back in its place and you will find that you have more of a sense of closure when you leave. You’ll also return to a clean desk in the morning!

Mental decluttering is extremely important too. Try to focus on one project at a time without distractions such as cell phones, emails, and other electronic gadgets. You'll be amazed at how much more you can accomplish when you focus on a project without allowing anything else to distract you.

One last note here. Clutter isn’t always bad. One study showed that a messy desk can actually make us more creative. By having a neat, ordered environment, it tends to make us more likely to play it safe, not allowing us to break with the norm and look at things in a new, creative way.

#Health #Mental Health #Physical Health #Clutter #Declutter #wellbeing #Stress #Deal with Stress #Depressed #Anxiety

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gyrlversion · 5 years

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Author Christina Patterson reveals how she finally defeated adult acne

Relieved: Christina Patterson had been struggling with acne since she was 13

The doctor looked down at his notebook and sighed. ‘In that waiting room,’ he said, ‘I’ve got patients with real problems. What exactly do you want me to do?’

I swallowed, but my mouth was dry. I cupped my fingers round my chin.

I couldn’t stop touching the deep, red, painful lumps there. Please, I wanted to yell, just make them go away.

When I saw that doctor I was feeling desperate. It was part of my job to go on a stage and present public events, but a few weeks before, my face had exploded with throbbing red bumps that developed into giant yellow pustules.

I plastered my face with foundation, but some of the pustules burst and encouraged new crops of yellow lumps, like mushrooms springing up after rain.

I was 34 and had been struggling with acne, on and off, since I was 13.

I first felt a sprinkling of tiny bumps on my forehead at the same time I started noticing boys. I was prescribed antibiotics and used all kinds of lotions, none of which worked, and even tried giving up chocolate, which didn’t make any difference at all.

Acne is embarrassing and upsetting as a teenager, knocking confidence at just the time you’re trying to summon some up. But it’s even worse when you’re an adult.

I was working in a bookshop as a 23-year-old when the scattering of normal spots on my face suddenly burst into a mass of red lumps that seemed to pulsate under my skin. I was referred to a dermatologist, who put me on Roaccutane, a drug that shrinks the oil glands, helping stop pores becoming clogged with oil and inflamed with bacteria.

Every time I looked in the mirror, I felt sick. Acne was the first thing I thought about in the morning, and the last thing I thought about at night as I slathered ointments on my sore, weeping skin

It was meant to be a miracle drug, and I waited for that miracle to happen to me. Instead, almost every pore on my face seemed to turn into a red lump, which turned into a multi-headed pustule. Soon, there seemed to be more pustules than normal skin.

Every time I looked in the mirror, I felt sick. Acne was the first thing I thought about in the morning, and the last thing I thought about at night as I slathered ointments on my sore, weeping skin.

My doctor referred me to a specialist hospital for skin diseases, where I was blasted with ultra-violet light while standing in a metal box like an upright coffin.

It burnt off most of the spots, and quite a bit of the skin. For about a year, my face was much better, but then the spots came back. I tried more antibiotics. I tried homeopathy. I tried acupuncture. I tried Chinese herbs. I saw a nutritionist.

Many people think acne is a teenage problem that passes, but it isn’t. ‘Half the patients I see are adults,’ says Professor Tony Chu, a dermatologist and founder of the charity Acne and Rosacea Association UK.

‘I see patients in their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s and 70s. I had one patient who was 85 and fed up with being told she would grow out of it.’

There are, he explains, two major causes of acne: hormones and stress. ‘If you’re under stress,’ he says, ‘the adrenal glands start pumping out not just adrenaline and cortisol, but a lot more male hormones.’

It’s these hormones that cause the changes in oil production and the blockage in the pores.

A former acne patient himself, Professor Chu knows more than most about the distress it can cause. Many of the patients he sees have been put on antidepressants. Some are suicidal.

When my acne was at its worst, I came pretty near to it. Sometimes it felt like too much of a challenge to walk down the street.

Claire (not her real name), 54, knows what that feels like. We worked together years ago, and both felt huge relief when we opened up to each other about our lifetime of secret acne shame. Hers started the summer she was 14. ‘The boys in my class called me Pizza Face or Gangrene,’ she says. ‘Strangers would stare at me. I felt deformed.’

No wonder she spent most of her adolescence on antidepressants.

Christina Patterson is the author of The Art of Not Falling Apart

Like me, Claire was semi-permanently on antibiotics, which made little difference. Like me, she didn’t dare come off them, in case the acne got worse. In her 20s, she wouldn’t stay with friends because she didn’t want to be seen without her thick mask of makeup.

‘I always wanted to be an actor,’ she says. ‘But my self-worth was wrecked by acne.’ Claire didn’t feel better about her skin until she was 40, when she had a baby and her spots largely disappeared.

Duncan, 57, who contacted me after reading about my acne in my book, The Art Of Not Falling Apart, has also struggled with it for most of his adult life.

‘I drank a lot,’ he says. ‘I realise now I was self-medicating.

‘I wasn’t socialising. I was sitting in the house, while my friends went to the pub.’

Duncan wanted to be a quantity surveyor. He went for his interview on a hot summer’s day. ‘I had a jumper on top of a shirt because my back always bled, because of the acne,’ he says.

‘All the guys were wearing just shirts and I thought, ‘Oh no, I can’t go into this.’ I ended up doing dead-end jobs for a while.’

When he was 28, he was put on Roaccutane and the acne cleared up. He still sometimes gets break-outs and has severe scarring.

Duncan works in mental health and enjoys his job, but has regrets about the things he missed out on. ‘There’s always that feeling that I didn’t do things that my pals were doing,’ he says.

For Professor Chu, these are familiar stories. He has spent his professional life trying to help people avoid this kind of pain, but is not a fan of Roaccutane.

Under the weather: The health concerns worsened by cold weather

This week: You’re prone to getting fat.

Getting fatter in the winter isn’t just about eating comfort food.

We have thousands of different bacteria in the gut, known collectively as the microbiome.

Each bacteria has a different job and a 2014 study found that, during winter, the balance shifts so we have higher levels of Firmicutes — bacteria that absorb calories.

Why this happens isn’t known, but ‘during winter your body wants to extract and store as much energy from food as possible’, said University of Chicago researcher Dr Emily Davenport.

However, we might also contribute to the change by swapping to a stodgier diet.

High levels of plant foods in the diet create a more diverse microbiome, ‘but if you’ve been eating three or four servings of fresh produce a day and that shrinks to one in winter, you may change the composition of your gut bacteria accordingly’, says Dr Davenport.

‘Fifty per cent of patients have a relapse,’ he says. ‘If they relapse after the first course, they’ll relapse after every course.’

He has, he says, had patients referred to him who have had 12 courses already. And the side-effects can be ‘dire’. Not just, he says, the depression and risk of suicide, but ‘acne fulminans, where your acne goes ballistic, in places you’ve never had it before’.

It’s thought this may be due to the presence of microcomedones, deep-seated blockages that can blow up into large pustules. This is what happened to me when I was prescribed Roaccutane.

What saved me, in the end, was a drug called Androcur. It blocks the effects of androgens — male hormones such as testosterone.

The drug, which I took as a daily pill, is also used as a hormone therapy for transgender patients undergoing transition treatment from female to male.

It gave me a migraine every month, but I was so desperate I put up with it and took it for three years. When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, at 39, I had to come off it, but the acne never came back.

It’s 40 years since I first developed acne. So what, I ask Professor Chu, are the most exciting new treatments?

‘The trouble with acne,’ he says, ‘is that from the financial point of view, it’s not a high flier.’

Acne treatments are not considered worth the multi-million investments it takes to get a drug off the ground.

There are, he says, more developments in treating acne scarring than in the spots themselves. For the scarring, he uses an electric automatic needling machine that produces 100,000 tiny pinpricks a minute, which some studies have shown can cause a 600 per cent increase in collagen production.

‘It’s fantastic, but I prefer not to treat acne scarring. I prefer to prevent it,’ he says. So say all of us. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to treat my acne successfully, but I’m relieved I now just have my wrinkles to worry about.

The Art Of Not Falling Apart is now out in paperback (Atlantic, £8.99).

The post Author Christina Patterson reveals how she finally defeated adult acne appeared first on Gyrlversion.

from WordPress http://www.gyrlversion.net/author-christina-patterson-reveals-how-she-finally-defeated-adult-acne/

#All #Entertainment News #Fashion #Money Moves #acne #adult acne #christina patterson #fashion beauty

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weightloss18-blog1 · 6 years

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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

#5 #Best #burning #Exercises #fast #fat #FOR #lose #LOSS #Men #programs #The #weight

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amnexicon · 6 years

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Ghosts

Part I. The Dove’s Death Hymn

Part II. An epitaph for the Wisteria

Part III. Black Sand Wonderland

- - -

CHRONIC KIDNEY DISEASE—

Causes: Diabetes, high blood pressure, glomerulonephritis, polycystic kidney disease, genetically transmitted.

Diagnosis: Blood tests measuring glomerular filtration rate, urine tests measuring albumin, ultrasound, biopsy.

Treatment: Pills managing blood pressure, active lifestyle, dietary changes, hemodialysis, peritoneal dialysis, kidney transplant.

Symptoms: Swelling of the legs, feeling tired, vomiting, loss of appetite, confusion.

Status: Incurable, at 323 million affected and 1.2 million dead.

COMMON COLD, THE—

Causes: Virus, transmission via airborne droplets, direct contact with infected objects or persons.

Diagnosis: Self-diagnosis.

Treatment: Fever medication, nasal decongestant, rest, maintaining hydration.

Symptoms: Cough, sore throat, runny nose, fever.

Status: Incurable, with 2-4 and 6-8 cases per year for adults and children respectively.

FIBRODYSPLASIA OSSIFICANS PROGRESSIVA—

Causes: Autosomal dominant allele on chromosome 2q23-24, genetically transmitted.

Diagnosis: Elevated levels of alkaline phosphatase, bone-specific alkaline phosphatase, deformed big toes, missing joint, notable lump.

Treatment: N/A

Symptoms: Ossification of fibrous tissues either spontaneously or when damaged.

Status: Incurable, at 0.5 million affected.

GLIOBLASTOMA—

Causes: N/A

Diagnosis: CT scan, MRI scan, stereotactic biopsy, craniotomy with tumor resection and pathologic confirmation.

Treatment: Anticonvulsant treatment, corticosteroids, surgery, radiotherapy, chemotherapy.

Symptoms: Seizures, headaches, nausea, vomiting, memory loss, personality changes, localized neurological problems.

Status: Three new cases per 100,00 people per year.

INSOMNIA—

Causes: Psychoactive drugs, use and/or withdrawal of sedatives and pain-relievers, heart disease, pain, hormone shifts, fear, stress, anxiety, emotional tension, gastrointestinal issues, mental disorders, disturbances to the circadian rhythm, genetically transmitted, elevated nighttime levels of circulating cortisol and adrenocorticotropic hormones.

Diagnosis: Athens insomnia scale, sleep history and habits, overnight sleep study.

Treatment: Sleep hygiene, stimulus control, keeping a journal, regular sleep and wake cycle, music, medication, melatonin, antidepressants.

Symptoms: Trouble sleeping, sleepiness, low energy, irritability, depression.

Status: Between 10% and 30% of adults may have insomnia at any given time, while in 6% it may last for longer than a month.

TOXOPLASMOSIS—

Causes: Toxoplasma gondii, eating poorly cooked foods, exposure to cat feces, genetically transmitted (if contracted during pregnancy), blood transfusion.

Diagnosis: Blood tests, amniotic fluid tests.

Treatment: Medication.

Symptoms: N/A unless the patient has a weakened immune system or is immunosuppressed which can result in headaches, confusion, poor coordination, seizures, lung problems, encephalitis, necrotizing retinochoroiditis.

Status: About 50% of the population affected.

- - -

Part I. The Dove’s Death Hymn

Se Uita sat hunched in the corner of the dark room scribbling notes and throwing them to the ground when he was satisfied with his work, only to immediately replace the page with another. The mortician had fallen behind on his paperwork, and his assistant would sort through the mess on the floor in the morning. For now, his goal was to get down as much information onto paper as he could. Names, ranks, ages, and the district and time of birth and death if available. After hours of filling forms, he stood from his compact seat, stretched his legs and back, and headed out. The light shut off behind him, shrouding Se Uita in the dark of the night.

Initium Vitae Columbae opened early to ensure that preparations could be made before the mourning. Se arrived before the sun had risen, the metal door handle still cold. He worked his way across stacks of papers, ensuring none of them would be kicked up by the force of his heavy morning trudge as he made his way over to the pastel blue wall painted to give a calming presence to the families making their way through his door. There were no mournings to conduct today. A buzzing came from within his skull, and he put his index finger over his temple.

His gravelly voice, still tired with the early sun, sighed and answered.

“Se Uita, yes?”

The vision of a masked figure appeared in the left corner of his eye and spoke to him, the voice modulated so as to avoid identification.

“We’ve arranged a truck to transport a body over. Don’t need to know who it is. Cremate them. You’ll be paid fully in advance.”

“When should I expect it? When do you want the ashes? I’ve got a clear schedule today. If it stays that way, I can have the job done by nightfall.”

“Should be here now. We don’t. Do what you want with them, so long as there isn’t a body by the end.”

“That’s it? Who do I call when I’m do—” The other end cut out before the mortician had the time to finish his question.

Se Uita returned his hand to his temple and shut the blank display. As he turned around to face the front window, men dressed in white, Cleaners, lowered a dark bag from the back of a large truck on to the sidewalk in front of Initium Vitae Columbae. They were gone before Se had even reached the door. A team of runners, they weren’t usually so secretive with their requests. He’d get a truck like that every few months, but they’d always booked ahead of time. He always got a name, and he always knew where the money was coming from.

The sun had started to rise by the time he’d retrieved a bariatric stretcher from the back and managed to roll the bagged body on to it as cleanly as he could, given the unusual delivery method. With a solemn respect to the unknown person he was wheeling into his front door, he held his head low and kept quiet. While he didn’t know who, or what kind of person he was dealing with, after death they were all the same to him anyway. His procedure wasn’t going to change. They could still be watching him, and he was going to play by the rules.

He transferred the body from the stretcher onto a steel bed near the back of the building, hidden away from any potential customers. He kept his head clear in case any buzzing were to alert him of anybody entering, he found a pair of scissors, and proceeded to open the bag. He was disarmed by the smell. Nothing. The body, a woman, had been cleaned before she was placed in the bag. A plastic case was strung around her neck with a zip tie. He cut it loose. The payment.

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

The steel bed was surrounded by seven canopic jars that held the remains of a Blimp-Whale corpse the mortician had found once while on a trip to the edge of the Ocean. Most of the jars held small sections of rib. On his trip, Se had also managed to find fragments of teeth, the sand having shifted enough during the night to reveal them before the party returned to the city. He’d cut the ribs into pieces as the sun rose and fit as many into his coat and bags as he could before everyone else had awoken.

After cutting the bag away from the body, he turned to one of the jars and filled it with water. He let it sit, doing this with each jar. After they’d all been filled, he waited for ten minutes for the bones to absorb the water. In the meantime, he opened a hatch on the side of the metal slab and replaced the fire-paper that lay underneath the cover of the metal table.

Once the clock had run its course, he removed the small sections of rib from each of the jars and placed them at each of her extremities. One at the head, two at the hands, and two more at the feet. The last two bones he held for himself, and again he waited as the cleaned bones transferred the Blimp-Water into their new host. Se could feel both of his hands weakening but there was no one else here for the woman in her death, and so he was left dealing with her final rites alone. He could hear the shuffling of papers in the other room as his assistant began the cleanup.

Soon, a grey smoke began to rise from her body. It was funnelled through a vent and sent to the roof of the building where it could find its way back to the Ocean. Usually, the mortician would close any openings and ensure to catch as much of the Ghost as he could, but there was no one here to collect any of the essence on her behalf, and he had no need to pry into her memories, thoughts, or feelings.

“May your Ghost reach the Ocean,” Se muttered, “and provide harmony.”

When the smoke cleared, he returned the bones to their respective jars and began the final phase of operations. Hands still weak, Se shuffled through drawers until he found a lighter and bent down under the steel bed. He felt around the metal bottom of the table until his fingers felt a small hole where the fire-paper could be reached by the lighter’s flame, and ignited it. Instantly, the table began to glow red until it was completely engulfed in flame. He watched in silence as she burned.

When there was nothing left but ash on the metal sheet, Se Uita beckoned for his assistant who’d been rummaging through the stacks of paper in the room outside. He came in with a small black bag, while the mortician lifted the table at an angle, sending all of the ash into the bag. Searching through his drawers once again, he pulled out a tag, labelled it A. #3323 and used it to tie the bag. He then turned to his assistant.

“Is the schedule still clean?”

“It is, sir.”

“Then you’ll be joining me on a trip to the Breach this afternoon.”

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

Se Uita and his assistant, who held the black bag, departed once the schedule was confirmed clean. Initium Vitae Columbae was near enough the Breach that they could walk to the nearest Versenwatch in minutes. A Crimson Guard Watchman sat behind a thick wall of glass and stood up as the pair approached him. He saluted them and sat back down.

“Me and the boy need Breach permits.”

The Watchman looked over his desk to identify the names, occupations, and ages of the travelers before him that the computer had gathered from it’s scan and entered into the terminal in front of him. He asked them the same questions for confirmation.

“Names?”

“Se Uita. The boy is my—”

“He’ll tell me.” Interrupted the Watchman. “What is your name, and what are your relations to this man?” he questioned, focusing intensely on the assistant.

“I’m his assistant, Kohsahr An.” The reply was much more confident than the Watchman had anticipated.

“Uita, your occupation?”

“Mortician.”

“And what brings you both down to the Breach?”

Se grabbed the bag from Kohsahr’s hands and brought it up to the glass. “The Transisting. No one to see her off but us.”

“Alright,” the Crimson Guard pushed a button on the console in front of him, opening a small square in the glass. “Pass it through.”

Se pushed the bag through the hole. The Guard placed it into a black box for scanning. Once confirmed clear, he pushed the bag back through to Se, who in turn handed it back to his assistant.

“Can’t be too careful,” the Watchman told them. “Two Breach permits. That comes to one-hundred CC each.”

Se reached into his pocket and placed 200 CCs through a second slit that had opened up before him. The Guard reached through, took the Capitol Currency, and replaced it with two Breach passes. A gate ahead of the two travelers opened, and they walked through.

The inside of the Breach that was available to the public was filled with souvenir shops and flashing lights. Groups of tourists wandered around, hopping from one destination to another. On the far end, windows peered out the the vast Ocean, only briefly interrupted by the forest directly below. The Breach was the only thing that protected the citizens of Novissimus Flos from nomad raids and the storms outside. To be this close made Se anxious, but the Ocean fascinated him just as much as it did everyone else. They made their way to an elevator and hit the top floor.

The roof of the Breach was barren and smooth from all of the sandstorms that had passed overhead. The few tourists who dared venture this high shielded their eyes from the harsh sun and debris that flew through the sky toward them. Most quickly returned to the elevator and back down into the primary tourist areas. Se and Kohsahr walked toward the railing, the only thing preventing either of them from falling off of the massive structure and into the sand-covered forest below.

“Kohsahr,” the mortician used his name. “The Transisting, if you would.”

The request startled him. He’d never been given this permission before. “Right, yes.”

He reached into the bag and threw the ashes into the wind. Behind him, Se Uita had begun chanting.

“May your Ghost reach the Ocean and provide harmony. May the harmony brought forth satisfy the Whale, Irisidiom. May Irisidiom, provided for and satisfied, return a harmony of her own.”

||| ||| ||| ||| |||

Part II. An epitaph for the Wisteria

The apartment was built on an axis, allowing the building to follow the sun as it moved through sky. From the Flos mountains, it looked like a sunflower in constant motion against the still outline of a city. It generated power for those living within who’d come to call the building Follower, or Flower. Inside, mirrors directed light from one end of the building to the other. It was a constant bright that bombarded the halls. Only the drawing of shades would drive it out.

Lillian sat, her arms folded on the table and huddled under a blanket, as she looked at Walker preparing breakfast. He’d pulled two red pills from two orange containers labelled separately for the both of them and held them in his hands. Suppression Pills. In a drawer just under them, he grabbed a black box, opened the top and placed both pills inside, checking quickly out the window first. He closed the lid and waited. The air around the 31st floor of the building was cold.

Lillian Lewis eyed the box. “You know they make better Skips now, right, that don’t take as long?”

“I’m waiting for a pink model before I upgrade.”

She smiled, laughing at the answer that had caught her off guard. “Dumbass.”

Walker turned back towards her, lifting his shoulders. “It’d look so much better with the decor.”

“Then why don’t you make one yourself?” She said as she got up, moving toward him.

“Oh, they’ve long surpassed my original design. Plus, I can’t paint f—”

Both of their skulls vibrated, and the corner of their vision was met with a view from the outside of their door.

“Should only be a few more seconds the pills are done. I’ll let them in,” he said as he pushed his way past her and out of the cramped kitchen.

The woman’s face was beaming as the door opened. “Walker Lewis! What took you so long? You think they’d teach you about punctuality in all that Guard training. How’ve you been?”

“We’re just about ready to execute th—”

A ringing from the kitchen. Lillian pulled the top off of the black box and put the now blue pills into their cups.

“—the plan. We were just waiting on you both to get here.”

Lillian walked in and welcomed Anoice and Scott Dourque, passing a purple cup to Walker. “All out of pink, sorry.”

“Oh, how will I ever get by.” He said dramatically before taking a big sip and pulling the pill in.

Anoice stared. “You still bother with that old Skip?”

“There’s no pink model, so obviously we can’t upgrade yet.” Chimed Lillian.

She led the group through a closet into a hidden room away from any of the large windows that covered the full lengths of the wall to the outside. She pulled a key from her long coat and opened a door leading to a black room filled to the brim with maps and pieces of equipment. A Crimson Guard uniform sat in the back corner, still shining from the recent polish Walker had given it. The four sat on opposing couches, cleaning the equipment and making small talk.

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

The four converged individually upon the Central Novissimus Flos Suppression Office. It was broad daylight. A queue formed long within the building as people went in to confirm that they had been taking the pills and to ensure that their daily Suppression was working as intended. The outside of the building was lined with the Crimson Guard. Arms in hand, they stood on watch, unmoving, as people entered and exited the building. Only the guard at the entrance would move, inspecting everybody that entered.

Lillian, ID in her shirt pocket, pulled it out as she approached the guard. After a brief scan and a few questions, he waved her through. The inside of the building was sterile. The white walls had stripes of red pointing in various directions to lead the unfamiliar around. She made her way to the back of the line and waited for the commotion. Very few were unfamiliar with the layout. Most of the Offices were built as images of the first.

Walker had positioned himself, adorned in his Crimson Guard set, at the entrance of the Office and allowed Lillian in after putting up an act of inspection. He refused entrance to enough people so as not to draw suspicion to himself, wary of being watched by the other guards. The C-NF-SO was a squat, rectangular piece of concrete with massive windows and pillars looming out of the front. It was built on a tough foundation, and the outside was nearly indestructible.

Anoice and Scott were geared in a black suit of body armour meant for absorbing shock. It would be suitable enough for protection as long as the situation didn’t escalate any more than they expected. They stood around the block from the C-NF-SO and unpacked their large mud-green bags, pulling out arms large enough to get the attention of the Crimson Guard in order to draw them away from the building. Scott looked her in the eye.

“You ready?”

She replied as she placed the helmet over her head, her voice coming in through each of the four radios in a static haze.

“A3 and A4 in position, A1?”

Lillian looked to the ground, trying to avoid eye contact with the people in the building. “A1 ready, A2?”

Walker looked in the direction that the two were hiding.

“A2 set. Go.”

Scott and Anoice ran around the corner of the building and fired blindly at the guards, ensuring to miss Walker who instantly ran in their direction and called the other Guards over to his position, ordering capture rather than extreme use of force. The Crimson Guard had been wanting to question the Anti-Suppression Cell since they’d first caught wind of their activities. The group used this to their advantage. Civilians within the Office fell to the floor.

Lillian took the opportunity to run behind the counter, grab one of the receptionists, and force him to a door at the back of the building. She scanned his ID to the door, opening it. He dropped as she stepped through the door leading to the database and servers that contained all of the information on the people who lived in the central sector. She pulled open her jacket, taking out small, flat objects and placed them around the room. She attempted to run back out of the building, only for one of the civilians to grab hold of her ankle and pull her down with them.

Outside, Walker’s no kill order had been voided when they saw the explosion that Lillian had triggered when she fell. Anoice and Scott were shot on the spot, and the Guards returned to the Office to look for survivors and whoever had set off the explosion. The sounds of shouting surrounded the guards, but the man who’d grabbed Lillian stood up. He shouted, luring them towards her.

Walker was confronted with a helicopter that drew nearer to the ground ahead of him as he looked for signs of life in Anoice and Scott. He caught a glimpse of the Captain of the Crimson Guard, Eris Vermillion, as she and her entourage jumped out of the helicopter which then returned to the building to airlift the survivors to the nearest hospital.

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

One of the Crimson Guard broke from the squad and moved toward the survivor who had shouted to them, holding his hostage who squirmed in a fruitless attempt at escape. He picked her up over his shoulder and directed the survivor to the helicopter along with the rest of the people in the building, and called in to Captain Vermillion.

“Sir, I’ve captured one of the Anti-Suppression Cell’s members. What should I do with her?”

“We’ve got complications. Get rid of her, make it an accident.”

The Guard threw her off of his shoulder and she hit the ground, cracking emanating from various places throughout her body. He unholstered his pistol, quickly fired between the eyes, and called the Cleaners in to his position as he continued looking for survivors. When the group, dressed head to toe in white and looking out of a blank mask arrived at the scene, they already had Anoice and Scott laid out between them on a stretcher. One of the group picked Lillian up and placed her on the pile. The Cleaners then returned to their van.

Vermillion held the radio to Walker’s ear so he could hear his wife’s final screams.

“Walker Lewis,” she stated coldly.

She threw down a small cube, and a large gray box formed around the two of them until they were both completely enveloped within, alone in the darkness, until a small light descended from the ceiling.

The Captain found her way behind Walker, tying his gloved hands to the chair that had appeared under him, until she sat comfortably behind a table opposite him. “You will tell me what you know.”

“Goddamn nothing,” he said, “Just arrived at the wrong moment, is all.”

She slammed her fist into his shoulder, dislocating it.

“One of my former Guards just happened to suit up as a Suppression Office was attacked. You think I’m that stupid?”

“Should I have left the suit behind when I disappeared?” He said, laughing at her anger.

“Now’s not the time, Lewis. The casualties are over two-hundred at the last count. More are still coming in. What have you got against the Office?”

He spit in her direction. “A system of pills so regulated. Our immune systems are shot. We’ve been trying to wean off the pills for years, and we can still only dilute them so much without serious consequences. Doesn’t help when we’re tracked to ensure we take them.”

“We weren’t around before the Suppression System, Walker. You know the stories. Death for even the smallest things. We’re eliminating that threat. Without people like you, sickness would be gone completely. It would have nowhere left to go.”

“So until then we just risk complete extinction?”

“We’ve got all of these systems in place to fight that from happening, you know that. You were that. Soon, we won’t need to worry about anything. Killing innocents isn’t going to help.”

The Portable Cell-Block walls retracted, and Captain Ze Vermillion ordered one of the Guard to restrain Lewis, who caught a view of the destruction that surrounded them. The C-NF-SO had become a pile of rubble. Unidentifiable bodies lay strewn about the wreckage.

“You’re not going to face trial, Lewis. We can’t have the public knowing it was a Crimson Guard who caused this.”

She lifted her pistol.

||| ||| ||| ||| |||

Part III. Black Sand Wonderland

Twelve Hours Prior to the C-NF-SO Bombing

“C076, confirm presence.”

“C076, confirm.”

“C077, confirm presence.”

“C077, confirm.”

The figures dressed entirely in white stood in line and acknowledged their presence for the days work. The floor resembled fallen ash, but their steps made no marks. Ahead of the lined figures was one other, this one dressed in a similar uniform but marked by the distinct red features underlying various sections of the gettup. He stood, unmoving, and barked directives at the group.

“C078, confirm presence.”

“C078, confirm.”

“C081, confirm presence.”

“C081, confirm.”

He looked over the pad in his left hand, a section of names crossed out.

“Unfortunate accident. C082, confirm presence.”

“C082, confirm.”

“C083, confirm presence.”

“C083, confirm.”

The leader placed the pad on the podium beside him, which retracted into the ground.

“All confirmations acquired. Stand for orders.”

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

Thirteen Minutes After the C-NF-SO Bombing

The figures loaded the last body into the back of the white van and all seven stepped in to the vehicle after them. The leader, sitting at the wheel, received a message just as he began to pull the van away from the site.

“Captain Vermillion,” the static voice reported. “This drop is to be discreet. Three separate locations, no official statements.”

“Confirmed.”

He began driving and relayed the information to C082 in the seat next to him, who called three separate morticians.

“Se Uita, yes?” responded the voice of the first.

The old, bearded man was tired. It was still early.

“We’ve arranged a truck to transport a body over. Don’t need to know who it is. Cremate them. You’ll be paid fully in advance.”

One of the hooded figures in the back loaded three tags with the appropriate amount of Capitol Currency and placed them around the three necks.

“When should I expect it? When do you want the ashes? I’ve got a clear schedule today. If it stays that way, I can have the job done by nightfall.”

“Should be here now. We don’t. Do what you want with them, so long as there isn’t a body by the end.”

“That’s it? Who do I call when I’m do—”

He’d already moved on to a call with the next mortician before he had the time to hear Uita’s response.

#short story #fiction #scifi #science fiction