#but i really need to be doing resistance training/weight lifting more consistently

[naomiknight-17]

Mom had a lunch date with some coworkers today, and we had planned that I would meet her at her place after to do a resistance training video and then make dinner

But when I came over she was like 'oh no we don't have time to do that, help me make banana bread' so I did, like a sucker. Then I helped make dinner (I say helped but I did like 70-80% of the baking and cooking) and then we had dinner together and I went home and collapsed on the couch

I was so worn out I fell asleep for like 90 minutes. Then I was awoken by my nighttime meds alarm, took my meds, did a load of dishes, fed the cats, and had a shower

Never got that exercise in, and now it's 2 AM, and I'm exhausted

Guess I'll just have to turn in and try again tomorrow

[sol-consort]

Do you think hanar that hang out in space would be considered stacked to the hanar on the homeworld?

I... I genuinely can't tell.

On one hand, the mass effect field surly must lead to the degradation of their tendrils's muscles since it carries all their weight for them. On the other hand, space hanar have a tendency to pick up stuff, usually small objects, and I do mean fully carry its weight at the tips of their tendrils (ex: blasto carrying pistols) unlike how the ocean hanar don't have to lift as much since the water helps in keeping things afloat.

But the ocean hanar's tendrils get regular exercise virtue of swimming, interacting with the environment, and all the healthy doses of movement which their tendrils were biologically designed for. While the space hanar are defying their biology, in a way? They can breathe air, yeah, but they weren't meant to walk on land.

It's like someone exercising with the wrong posture. Sure, it will still lead to them getting stronger since exercise is exercise, but it will cause damage and health problems in the long term. So while the space hanar are getting relatively tougher exercises with bigger rewards, they're at higher risk of straining their muscles and permanently damaging them.

Humans who are sent off to space tend to come back weaker. On Earth-like gravity, simply walking every day and stretching a bit is all you really need to keep your body and muscles happy. But in space? You need so much more exercise just to meet the minimum requirement of keeping your body intact and your bones from collapsing on themselves.

You could argue that the above example isn't really fitting since 90% of the horrible space side effects on the human body come from zero gravity, in which case yeah true. But I'd say it's valid because at the example's core, the person in question is losing access to the necessary daily walks and stretching, waking down the stairs, even the basic movements of getting up from the bed or bending your knees to pick something from the floor.

And those are the equivalent of what the hanar give up when they adapt a full terrestrial life on the Citadel or other spaces colonies.

Maybe there are hanar gyms that are just... huge water enclosures?

Isn't the hanar embassy in ME3 located amidst a huge body of water? Never mind, I just checked. That was a mod. The Thane memorial actually happens in Shep's apartment in vanilla... huh.

I mean, there are humans who exercise by running underwater. And I do mean running, on the sea floor. But like a really shallow one. It's to train their muscles. To say it's draining would be an underestimation. It's beyond exhausting <- because of the water's denser than air consistency, which leads to great resistance when moving through it.

And air is less dense than water, so much lighter. So the space hanar's muscles will wither with time since they won't be using the same great amount of force it takes to move through water, instead merely a fraction of it.

That's not even accounting for the drastic difference in pressure going from the ocean depths to land. If the hanar truly can withstand the crushing pressure of Kahje's ocean floor—a planet fully enveloped in water—then oh boy. Imagine you were Atlas for a second, carrying a huge fuck off boulder on your shoulders since the dawn of time, and one day, someone invites you to their house up on the Citadel, and that boulder is just.... gone. Forever. Imagine how weird it would feel, how much it would fuck with your balance and precision.

As for why they don't bloat up like a blobfish when brought to the surface? I don't know. They appear soft and squishy, lacking protective layers required to maintain their inner pressure, but they can breathe air, so they were definitely mean to traverse different layers of the ocean with varying pressures. The mechanics just... aren't clear.

In conclusion: the hanar are absolutely fucked if the drell realise their worth and decide to forgo the compact and migrate away. Unless they do with the quarians did and invest in good ol'reliable AI synthetic helpers.

[octuscle]

I’m in desperate need of chronivac support!

I was trying to see how much muscle I could put on and really test the limits of the mind and body transformation feature. None of the presets were big enough for what I was looking for though. Do you know if there is some sort of muscle daddy expansion pack that I can add on to be the biggest, manliest bodybuilder in the world? I’m willing to trade as many IQ points as you need to really bump up the muscle size.

I'll make you a suggestion: I'll reset your life to 0. We start again. Your parents encourage your sporting enthusiasm from the very beginning. From your mother's milk on, you receive only the optimal nutrition for the development of your muscles. At the age of five, you start swimming in a club. At the age of eight, you get bored and switch to open-water swimming. You love the resistance when you pull the buoy behind you. You love the fight against the waves. You are never concerned with speed. You're all about power and endurance. For strength, you start lifting weights at age 14. And you fall in love with the iron. At 16, you leave school. You know what you need to know. Your routine now consists of an hour of swimming in the morning (with paddles in a judo suit for maximum resistance). After that, you're in the gym for eight hours. And in the evening you do one hour of yoga. Your family supports you to the point of self-sacrifice. Your mother is your diet cook. Your father is your trainer and manager. Your brother is your training partner. That was 14 years ago.

Now you are 30 and you are the world's biggest natural bodybuilder. At 6'2, you weigh in at 308 lbs competition weight. Next to you, your competition opponents look pathetic. Especially in their posing briefs. You, on the other hand, are not nicknamed "The Bulge" for nothing. You are the darling of your fans. The trade press is cheering. Medical schools study you. Your books are bestsellers. You are simply amazing! Yes, you are not educated. But you are not stupid.

That's scenario 1. For me, you are already the most masculine bodybuilder in the world. You are not the greatest. I can make you even bigger. I can change the scenario so that you got a new trainer ten years ago. And he had a whole pharmacy with him. Now you prefer to work out in the Middle East, where it's easier for you to get lots of bodybuilding supplements. You gave up swimming and yoga a long time ago. You are pumping when you are not sleeping.

Sure, you have acne on your back…. And you are pushing a veritable roid gut in front of you. But you are the greatest. You beat Greg Kovacs by another five lbs. And you have a much better body fat percentage.

Lad, you look tremendous in both scenarios. I'm sending you SZENARIOnat and SCENARIOroid into your app. Run whichever one you feel more comfortable with.

[fantasticcloudcreation]

Rant about body image /not interesting just a ramble haha

Oops I've been looking at thïnspø bc it's that time of year I guess and like, I'm almost as skinny as most of them, like literally 5-10 lbs if I'm not there already; but Ugh I'll never actually look like them bc I have the world's most narrow hips and it's so frustrating!!! Like I can and will keep losing weight bc I'm insane and that's just what I do (14 years in this rodeo so far, my mom is the same way but she's 55 and she's been on and off dieting my entire life, she once told me she started dieting at age 14 and I was like oh shit I'm 14 and chubby I guess I should start dieting) but anyway it's like, at a certain point you gotta realize that you can lose as much weight as you can but you'll never change your bone structure??? Like somehow I was blessed with a natural thïgh gäp at a reasonable weight but still my hips are so narrow, I don't understand how that works out, it still doesn't change the fact that my body is shaped like a bean and I'll never have that hourglass shape.

HOWEVER I Can start exercising intentionally again, I can get back into yoga and dance and pilates, I can start strength training and building up my glute muscles so at least that might help fill in the hip dips a little, trim down the inner thigh and belly fat, work on better abs/core strength?

Have I made a post like this already? I feel like I'm talking about these same things all the time. At a certain point I need to stop talking about it, accept the fact that my body is shaped the way it is and move on. Learn how to dress better, wear cute clothes and shoes, etc.

Workout bc it makes me feel strong and graceful and energetic. Exercise to get better at dancing and yoga, to do better at work, to be able to carry things for people who aren't as strong as me. I'm already halfway there, I've gotten so much stronger over the past 2 years, I can lift things at work that I couldn't when I first started.

Practice yoga for the spiritually aspects not just physical benefits. Practice dance for the god damn JOY it brings me, for the creativity and artistry of it. Train and practice for the Beauty of dancing as an art form.

And yes, having a physical practice will likely help my body to balance out; my left side is not as strong as my right side, and I can see more fat deposits on my left side vs my right; it's mild but I can see it when I'm looking for it. Work on that for the sake of Functionality rather than body image.

I've gone up and down between my hw and lw like at least 3 times over the past 14 years, most often just bouncing around 10 lbs in the middle. It's Fine. Yes, I like the way I look at the lower weights, I started this year pretty high and I've gotten pretty low since starting this round of "dieting " back in May; and let's be real I could've had better/faster results if I actually had consistency and discipline and structure, but I'm kinda over it. Like not over it enough to really be over it, just enough that it's like, slow easy progress is fine and I'm not gonna be crazy about it this time.

I want to focus on exercising for the sake of my body being able to perform in all areas that really matter to me, not just trying to be a pretty girl / look good in pictures. I'm doing ok with eating for the most part, certain men in my life have a tendency to make me eat more/junk when I'm around them, etc, but it's fine.

But if I can just get myself into a basic exercise routine, strength training, cardio, calisthenics, yoga + dance practice; that's really what I need right now. Why is it so easy to tell myself this over and over yet so hard to get back into it??? Remember when I used to exercise regularly?? It felt great why am I resistant to it??? Idk.

I'm not gonna force it, I'm not gonna sit here saying "I'll start tomorrow" with this whole unreasonable schedule plan, I've tried that and I usually just ignore it. Maybe I just need to start small and work up again. Maybe I just need to keep reminding myself why I want to be doing it. Maybe I need some structure and discipline and accountability. Idk.

Right now it's 11:30 pm and I'm in bed and I'll think about all this again in the morning.

Idk what the point of this post was haha tldr I want to start exercising again

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

oh congrats! can you give some tips on building muscle when you dont actually have any weights? also how long does it take and do you need to eat so much protein? anything really. ive been wanting to build muscles on my legs though but i dont know how to start. i havent bc i feel my diet isnt too protein filled and idk how to go about it esp when i live at home and have to eat what they do so i feel trying to gain muscle would be too hard if i didnt have a set diet/protein plan

thanks! i'm really flattered to be asked for advice, but i'm afraid that the most salient advice i possess for gaining muscle is "be me", because it seems to be mostly through some kind of physiological quirk that allows me to gain absurd amounts of muscle absurdly quickly, with absurdly little effort.

i actually didn't realize HOW absurd my body is until i googled yesterday, because supposedly most people can only gain ~2lbs of muscle per month, or at most 5lbs with strict training, and here i was able to gain ~30lbs of muscle in just two months. and to be clear, i didn't follow any special regimen - my primary goals were to sleep better and increase my overall health, not to get ripped.

(i don't know what this physiological quirk is, but it's nothing new, i've just been more consistent with lifting recently. my mom still raves about how i picked up and carried around an enormous boom box when i was 16 months old, and how when i was 5 i got mad and pushed a chest of drawers taller than i was in front of my bedroom door. i'm absurdly muscle-bound even when completely sedentary. my old massage therapist, a former body builder/personal trainer, used to do a few resistance exercises with me to warm up my back, and he was always astonished by how strong i was. basically, my body dumped all its stats into muscle mass, to the detriment of literally everything else.)

anyway, with all the prefaced, i can give at least a few tips if you still want them, because yes, you can definitely do a lot without weights. there are plenty of effective bodyweight exercises, and if you're able to spend a little money, resistance bands are a great alternative to weights.

okay, so a few things: if you want lean, toned muscles, you do more reps with less weight, and if you want big bulky muscles, you do fewer reps with more weight. in terms of bodyweight exercises, like squats, this could mean just holding something heavy (like a jug of water or a backpack) while you do them.

next, proper form is absolutely crucial. especially if you're using any kind of weight, you need to research the proper form of any exercise you're going to do and then hold yourself correctly, as incorrect posture could negate the results you're looking for or even cause injuries. always be really careful with your neck and your back.

if you're using weights or resistance bands, do NOT rely on momentum to do your reps. you know how you see guys swinging their weights up when they're doing bicep curls? that might look impressive and get you more reps, but impressive and more isn't as useful as effective. the most effective way to build biceps, for example, is with isolated bicep curls (if you don't have a bench, sit and plant your elbow/tricep against your inner thigh), which will kick your entire ass if you're used to using momentum. move slowly, deliberately, focusing on the movement rather than how much you're lifting or how many reps you're doing.

also, don't underestimate the results of doing just a little, or starting with the bare minimum. one rep is better than zero reps. if you don't have the energy to push yourself, or if you hate winding up super sore, literally just do a couple, just get your muscles used to being used.

for building up your legs, i would suggest calf raises, squats, pliés, lunges, romanian dead lifts, glute bridges, or any variations of those that you feel comfortable doing. personally, i hate lunges so i just don't do them. if you hate doing a particular exercise, you're not going to do it, so find something else that you don't hate so much instead of trying to force yourself to do something you hate.

some other good bodyweight exercises are pushups (i do them against my bathroom countertop, and you can start just doing them against a wall if need be), crunches, reverse crunches, supermans, wall sits, chair dips, and doorframe rows. (and then there's dynamic exercises like jumping jacks and burpees, but i will not do jumping jacks for love or money, so fuck that.)

also don't overlook the benefits of yoga, if you have enough space and a mat or towel to use. look up strength building yoga routines and they will definitely kick your ass. a ballet leg workout would also do the trick.

on the nutrition side of things, i’m still working on figuring that out. i’m sure i’m not getting enough protein for the amount of muscle i have, but protein is a somewhat tricky thing, as it’s not all created equal. plant protein isn’t bad, but the issue with plant protein is that very few sources contain equal levels of amino acids, and you’re only going to absorb as much protein as the least amino acid in that source. so if the package says that it contains 20g of protein, that might be technically true, but if one of the amino acids in it is only 5g, then you’re only going to absorb 5g. (does that make sense? i’m not sure i’m explaining it clearly.)

the point is, if you want to get your protein through plant sources, you need a variety of foods, and you need to combine them. for example, you’ll get more complete protein by eating a combination of whole grains and legumes (like beans with brown rice, barley with lentils) than you’d get from legumes alone. good plant protein means eating whole grains, legumes, nuts, seeds, etc, not just eating protein bars made with soy protein isolate. that can definitely be difficult to do when you’re not the one doing the grocery shopping, or if you don’t have time to cook, or the money to buy healthy food.

animal proteins are more straightforward, but while i’m not at all vegan, i also just can’t do those low carb diets and eat meat all the time. it’s expensive, it’s time-consuming, and honestly i find it kind of gross. i try to use meat, dairy, and eggs in conjunction with plant proteins, rather than one or the other. plus, you can only absorb so much protein at once, so it’s better to try and get your sources consistently throughout the day rather than eating a big pile of chicken for dinner.

but all that said, you definitely shouldn’t be trying to exclude carbs and fat from your diet. your body is meant to run on carbs, fat, AND protein to function, and while making adjustments like less sugar and more protein might be helpful, you should never try to cut one category out altogether. personally, i think it’s better to just eat foods rather than try to cram myself full of isolated proteins.

anyway, i know that’s a whole lot of shit, and it’s kind of infuriating that i can put on muscle just from sneezing. but i also don’t think you have to dedicate all your time to gains in order to get some results, and doing a little is infinitely better than doing nothing. don’t freeze up because you can’t do everything all at once.

trying doing just one or two little things, and go from there. take care!

[skinks]

Would you be able to talk about how you’ve become so strong/in shape whatever,,, as I want to big ol strong gal yet I didn’t really do sports in high school and I’m 22 now and still hellaaaaa weak, xoxox I think you’re rad

Aw yeah of course I can! And thank you, I’m sure you’re rad too and probably super strong in other ways that aren’t just physical 💪😎

I’ve managed to stay within the bounds of being “fairly fit” to “very fit” because I grew up doing a looooot of sports. Not necessarily in school, but my family has always been sporty and so doing some sort of regular activity has always been the norm for me.

Then towards the end of high school I started working on farms, and have continued to do so for the last ten years since dropping out of university. Having a physical job to go to every day has 100% played the biggest role in me managing to avoid a sedentary lifestyle, and I couldn’t imagine ever having a job where I sit down for most of the day. It helps that I’ve supplemented it with continuing my other active hobbies outside of work, like hiking/cycling/running/weightlifting/other various sports. It ALSO helps that my parents have a garage full of rusty weights and a treadmill, since I can’t afford a gym membership right now.

So for instance at the moment I’m doing gardening/landscaping labour, as well as restarting the Stronglifts 5x5 program and 5k run training while I wait for it to be warm enough to start cycling again.

All of that is to say: the key factor here is consistency!!! You absolutely don’t need to work on a farm or become some lifelong jock overnight to build fitness/strength, you just need to look at physical activity as something that makes your body happy. It can take a while, I won’t lie! But when you incorporate enough physical stuff into your everyday life, you start to crave it. You start to need it, to be able to fall asleep at night. It can start with something as simple as taking the stairs whenever possible. You’re only 22, that’s a brilliant age to start getting strong as fuck if you want to. We need more big ol strong gals in the world lmao

If I were you I’d start with regular bodyweight exercises if you wanna build strength. Simple movements you can do on your bedroom floor, and do them 3 times a week at first. Squats, lunges, push-ups, crunches, sit-ups, tricep dips, glute bridges, front and side planks, that kinda stuff. There are tons of YouTube videos detailing the types of movements and routines you can do at home, with the right form, as well as yoga for strength purposes if you want to ease into it.

Do NOT be discouraged if you can’t even do like, one push-up at first, as long as you’re consistent and trying them regularly a few times a week, you’ll see improvements. If you have the time/money/ability to look for a beginner’s weightlifting class, that’s a great idea too. Having an instructor to help you with correct form and to encourage you goes a long way. The weight machines in gyms are also great, and have way less risk of injury than free weights.

The good news is that you’re 22 and a gal as you say, and young women eating a good diet with sufficient protein are actually one of the groups BEST suited to build muscle with consistent resistance training. You say you’re weak now but you’re technically a blank canvas, strength-wise. You’ve literally nowhere to go but up!!!

It’s awesome that you wanna be strong. I can’t speak for everyone, but I’ve found that being physically strong has a huge mental health benefit, especially when it comes to self image and contentment with your body. Lifting weights and knowing which movements are building which muscle groups helps me feel connected to/in control of my body like nothing else, the endorphins are REAL 😤 I hope this was in any way helpful, let me know how you get on!

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 27

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 4.1k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act four ➻ part two

​​

When Hongjoong said that you would reconvene the next day to discuss the plans further, you expected it to be quick and easy. Instead, one day turned into six and a half days that consisted of playing a waiting game. No one was allowed on the bridge aside from Seonghwa – even Mingi was told that he couldn’t take his regular post at the captain’s side, which left the bitter taste of curiosity in your mouth. And since you and Seonghwa are on a break from your regular physical activities, you haven’t been able to ask him what the hell is going on because he spends all his time on the bridge talking with Hongjoong because you don’t get to see him. You aren’t bitter or anything – honestly and truly, you aren’t – but it does feel a bit strange to go from sleeping in the same bed as someone every other day and having a certain level of intimacy with them to not even seeing the back of their head for almost a week. The one time you did see Seonghwa, it was so brief that if you had blinked, you would have missed him and the rushed greeting and farewell he gave you on his way to the bridge.

Maybe you are a tad bitter, but only because you would have appreciated a better explanation than the silence you got instead.

Hongjoong’s strange and unexplained delay in conducting his plans led to a spike in stress throughout the crew. You would assume that having this downtime and not having to do anything would be something they enjoy and look forward to, but that’s limited to being able to leave the ship on said downtime. No one has been allowed to set foot off the ship according to a vague order over the ship’s intercoms. Despite the much-needed rest, you have to admit that even you are growing tired of it. You spend your days reading about Sirens in your room, sparring with Jongho or San, or just milling about the ship with little purpose because there isn’t much to do. More quality time spent in each other’s presence isn’t always good though. This whole situation has caused a spike in Wooyoung’s complaints about the food primarily because Jongho has been the only one cooking in Seonghwa’s absence.

“I’m just saying that if you lowered the heat on the stove, maybe the food would be so burnt!” Wooyoung’s voice rings through the mess hall before you even reach the archway leading into the room.

“That’s called flavor, Wooyoung!” Jongho argues back, dark head of hair coming into view as you cross the threshold. You don’t even bother looking over to where the food waits because if Wooyoung is this loud in his complaints already, then it’s worse than usual.

“The eggs are black, Jongho. Black! How do you even manage to do that?” Wooyoung scoffs, leaning back in his seat as he motions down at his plate. Yeosang is at the man’s side as always though he doesn’t engage in the conversation happening before him. He still bears the same cloth sling that he’s been wearing since that explosion in the marketplace. As much as he insists that he’s fine, Yunho continues to make him wear it just to be sure that he won’t tear anything.

And, speaking of Yunho, he’s the first to greet you as you draw closer to the table. He lifts his hand to offer a gentle wave but says nothing more than that because Jongho is still hellbent on getting the last word.

“Look, I don’t appreciate this kind of attack. Your tone is very hostile and accusatory, and I’m not really vibing with it in all honesty.”

You huff out a weak laugh at Jongho’s comment, stepping around the man to sit between Yunho and San when they make space for you.

“I’m not vibing with eggs that look like gravel! We can’t all vibe with what we wanna vibe with!” Wooyoung protests as he slaps his hand against the table. The silverware and plates shudder at the impact, but Jongho remains unblinking, lips drawn into a fierce pout.

“Suit yourself. More for the rest of us!”

“More for you,” Yunho cuts in with a quick shake of his head.

“And only you,” San adds a moment later.

“All of you are cruel. At least I can rely on Y/N to treat me better than this.” Jongho angles his chin towards you, and you resist the urge to look over at him. You’re certain that he’s going to be wearing those damn puppy dog eyes that he’s too good at, and you are more than slightly susceptible to. “Wow, nevermind! She’s not even gonna look at me.”

“Careful, Jongho. She might be cranky. She hasn’t fucked in maybe a week with our dear lieutenant always on the bridge.” Jongho chokes on his coffee, Wooyoung’s eyes all but bulge out of his head, and San coughs to cover the laugh that threatens to breach his lips. Only Yeosang maintains a sense of normalcy, but you can spot the hint of a smirk as he hides behind his coffee mug. You swing an elbow into Yunho’s side, hitting him square in the ribs, and he yelps from the impact. “Ow! Hey, rude!”

“Fuck you,” you huff.

“Oh? Okay, what time? I’ll gladly clear my schedule for some fun.” Yunho props his elbow up on the table and angles his chin to look you in the eye. You glare in response to the teasing gleam there, opting not to give him the pleasure of hearing another response from you.

“Breakfast is always so much fun, isn’t it?” San teases, pulling his arm up to rest on your shoulder.

“Can’t we have one breakfast with Yunho making things about sex?” Wooyoung whines as he slumps forward on the table.

“Why is everyone cranky except for me?” Yunho scoffs. “It isn’t like you all have never had sex, I don’t see what the big issue is! Why can’t I just chat abo–”

“Can it, horndog!” Wooyoung interrupts, and he chucks a wadded up napkin at Yunho’s forehead a moment later.

“Fine! Just remember that one day, I’m gonna stop talking altogether, and you lot are going to regret having ever been mean to me about talking too much.” Yunho purses his lips, drawing his arms up to cross over his broad chest, and Wooyoung shakes his head in response.

“No, no, you idiot! Shut up because someone is present,” he hisses out. His index finger comes up to jab in the opposite direction, and you have to swivel your head to see what exactly he’s pointing at. Yunho does the same, but his expression melts into a neutral one in an instant. Mingi stands at the other side of the room, oblivious to the eyes upon him and as stoic as ever. The talk at the table falls quiet. It’s such a sudden shift that it sends you reeling, especially since you haven’t seen Mingi in the mess hall since – well, you can’t recall ever seeing him here. The tension and discomfort in the air is palpable. You consider breaking the silence, but Yunho’s flitting eyes and Wooyoung’s suddenly stiff muscles convince you not to. Rather, it’s Jongho who cuts through it.

“God, can’t you all act normal around him?” He pushes himself up and turns to where Mingi lingers near the edge of the room.

“I’m confused,” you mutter, shifting your head to look in San’s direction. He looks back at you with lips drawn tight together. They relax after a moment, and San opens his mouth to say something. The words never come out because Jongho interrupts the train of thought with a booming tone that echoes through the hall.

“Hey! Mingi just said he loves my eggs, you rat!” It’s obvious who the comment is directed at, and Wooyoung is quick to respond with an equally loud scoff.

“He is only saying that to make you feel better. He knows how bad they really are!” Wooyoung huffs. You try to relax your shoulders as the hanging tension begins to thin and dissipate. Jongho all but drags Mingi closer to the table where you all sit, but once the pair gets within three feet of you, Mingi halts. Jongho tugs his arm a little to no avail because Mingi still shakes his head and refuses to budge.

“I think… they would feel safer if I stay at this table instead,” Mingi says, tone hesitant. His tongue darts out to drag over his lower lip, and his gaze lands on each person at the table before settling on you. Jongho doesn’t push him any further though and lets Mingi move towards the other table instead. Yunho lets his gaze flit between Jongho and Mingi, watching the silent exchange before huffing out a sigh and standing up himself. He goes to sit beside the taller Berserker without a word and doesn’t bother bringing his food or coffee with him as he drops to the bench, elbows propped up on the edge of the table. He’s almost tall enough to stretch across the space between the tables with his legs alone, and you’re sure that he could if he put in the effort.

You don’t face forward right away. Mingi’s presence looms behind you like a ticking time bomb. Even if the tension is slowly ebbing away, you can still clearly see that everyone is on edge. Maybe it is only because you’ve all been stuck on the ship for so long, perhaps everyone is on edge and tense because of that, but you know that Mingi is an influential factor regardless. It’s suddenly everywhere in the room: in Yeosang’s sharp eyes narrowing on Mingi’s form, Wooyoung’s shifting weight as he glances over at the Berserker every so often, the hand that San inches across the bench to brush against the nape of your back. Jongho and Yunho stay close to Mingi, but it doesn’t seem like a gesture meant to be solely friendly. It looks more like a blockade than anything else. The way Yunho stretches his legs out to cover more distance, his body facing towards your table rather than the opposite way, and Jongho finding a statuesque position evenly between the tables with arms pressed firmly against his hips.

It isn’t necessarily Mingi or his aura that makes you uncomfortable and tense. It’s the crew’s reaction to his presence in the mess hall that does that. Normal conversation slips back in, though it doesn’t help to ease the discomfort churning in your gut.

“What the hell is taking Hongjoong and Seonghwa so long anyway?” Wooyoung asks, slumping over the table after pushing his plate of unfinished food out of the way. “It’s been a week. What kind of plans are they making for a week?”

“Big ones?” San offers with a half-smirk stretching his lips.

“Haha, you’re so funny, San. Have I ever mentioned that? How funny you are? Because you’re fucking hilarious.” Wooyoung doesn’t try to hide the overexaggerated roll of his eyes.

“In all seriousness though, I have no idea. They could be playing a waiting game, just like the rest of us.”

“A waiting game for what?” Wooyoung shifts a bit in his seat. Yeosang glances over in his direction and seems to pick up on something that no one else does because he pushes closer to the dark-haired man until their shoulders rub against each other. The simple touch releases some of the tension in Wooyoung’s shoulder in a fraction of a second.

“Given where we are, it would be no surprise if they needed to wait like the rest of us,” San explains through a sigh. “Especially with what happened the last time you were out and about in the city.” If you didn’t already know what San is referring to, you would be able to tell just from the way Wooyoung and Yeosang look at one another, eyes sad to a degree, and Wooyoung pushes a hand back to brush against the one that hangs out of Yeosang’s sling.

“It’s been a long time since Hongjoong was this patient,” Jongho notes as he finally takes his eyes off Mingi. “Do you think something happened?”

You know why he’s patient all of a sudden. The reason is you. Your identity as a Siren, your revelation to him a little over a week ago, and the fact that Hongjoong has two Sirens in his grasp rather than just one. You can’t very well come out and say that however; you don’t need the rest of the crew treating you like anything less or more than what you are. Nor do you need them doubting your abilities all of a sudden like Seonghwa did (another thing you aren’t bitter about in the slightest). If it were up to you, you would make sure that none of them found out. The underlying need to be appreciated and wanted for who you are rather than what you are outweighs the desire to explain Hongjoong’s patience.

“I’ve got no clue.” San shrugs, casting Jongho an uninterested glance before returning to his coffee.

“Being on Kebos sucks ass.” Wooyoung huffs air through his nose, but the sound is masked entirely by a sudden clatter behind you. San’s grip shifts to your hip and squeezes tight before he turns around. It’s a split second shift, and the tension spikes tenfold. Wooyoung claps his hand over his mouth, eyes growing impossibly wide. You dare to turn with the rest and stare directly at Mingi. The sight before you, however, is an entirely normal one.

Mingi sits in the same position as before. He hasn’t even budged. You wouldn’t be able to tell that something is wrong if not for the next words that come out of his mouth.

“We’re on… Kebos?” It isn’t clear who he is talking to because he keeps his chin dipped to his chest.

“No! Uh, I just meant that — I was thinking about it. We were talking about it. Earlier!” Wooyoung exclaims as he drops his hand to the table. That turns out to be a mistake, however; he releases a cry of pain the second his hand connects with the metal, pulling away and cradling the limb to his chest. Yeosang lunges to shield Wooyoung from view, but he doesn’t move fast enough thanks to the awkward position at the table and one of his arms being out of commission. There’s a flash of crimson trickling down Wooyoung’s arm. Yeosang’s weight slams into Wooyoung, and the two topple off the bench and thrash a little before hitting the ground at a painful angle. Wooyoung takes the brunt of the impact, Yeosang falling on top of him with a grunt.

When you glance down at the table again, there’s a knife beside Yeosang’s plate, one that has the same shade of crimson as Wooyoung’s arm coating the blade. It isn’t difficult to figure out what happened. San notices the knife the exact moment you do. He jerks and stretches across the table to knock it off the edge, and the blade clatters a few times before skidding across the metal floor. You don’t dare move a muscle. San leans closer to you, lips grazing the shell of your ear as he turns back to Mingi.

“Move to the other side of the table,” he mutters. “Don’t make any sudden movements.” You’re tempted to nod, but the warning in San’s tone prevents you from even doing that much. So instead, you slide across the bench as slowly as possible to do as asked.

“Hey, Mingi,” Jongho starts. From your new position, you can clearly see what was going on, and Mingi’s gaze is firmly fixated on the spot where the bloodied knife just sat. “How’s the weather up there?”

Mingi doesn’t respond. His hands are trembling in his lap without cease, and even as San slides to block his line of sight, he remains stuck in place.

“Mingi…” Yunho stretches a hand towards the Berserker. He barely makes contact with the man’s shoulder, but it triggers a visceral response in Mingi. The speed he moves with is almost a blur. Next thing you know, Mingi has Yunho sprawled on the floor with his hands straining around the healer’s neck. “F-Fuck. Jongho, ge–” Mingi cuts the words short by squeezing tighter.

“Mingi, can you hear me?” Jongho asks, stepping closer to where Mingi has Yunho pinned. He moves slowly still, no rush or panic in his steps or tone. “Mingi.”

“Y-Yes, yes. Yes, I can – I can hear you.”

“Can you still move your hands?”

“Not re… no, yes. I can.” Mingi’s fingers flex around Yunho’s neck. He relieves some of the pressure on the other man, letting him gasp in deep breaths of air.

“You need to let go of Yunho.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“No! No, I can’t. They–”

“You’re hurting him, Mingi,” Jongho murmurs, squatting beside the pair. He doesn’t reach out to touch Mingi the way Yunho did, but he doesn’t need to. Mingi listens, understands, and slowly but surely his grip on Yunho’s neck alleviates until it’s gone altogether.

“I-I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to — I wasn’t trying t–”

“It’s okay, Mingi.” Jongho drops a hand to Mingi’s shoulder at last. This time, Mingi sits still and lets himself sink into the touch. Jongho tugs him ever so gently off Yunho, allowing the older man to roll out from under Mingi’s weight and get to his knees further away from Mingi. “Can you stand up?”

“Yeah… yeah, I can.”

“Cool, let’s get up then, yeah? We can talk somewhere quieter.”

The silence in the room is suffocating, so you aren’t what on earth he means by that, but Mingi just nods in agreement and pulls himself to his feet. Jongho’s hand remains clenched around his shoulder. There’s too much pressure around his knuckles for it to merely be a comforting touch; it’s a secure and robust grip, one that keeps Mingi in check as Jongho guides him out of the mess hall without even looking back. You aren’t sure how much time passes, but no one moves for a long time after both Berserkers leave. Yunho’s chest heaves as he reaches up to rub at the reddened skin around his throat. Wooyoung and Yeosang are still on the floor behind you, both sitting up now, and San remains rigid like a statue in his seat across the table.

“Wooyoung, let me look at your hand,” Yunho says after a long while, voice a bit raspy. Wooyoung scrambles to get to his feet and meet Yunho halfway.

“I-I’m sorry. I forgot. I know I wasn’t supposed to say anything but I–”

“It’s not your fault, Woo,” Yunho murmurs as he pulls Wooyoung’s hand away from his chest and examines the cut on his palm. “He was doing well until I touched him so… the blame falls on my shoulders as well.” A sigh escapes him. “You won’t need stitches, but I need to clean it and dress it. Head to the medbay; I’ll meet you there in a few minutes. Yeosang, you can go with him.”

“You aren’t coming right away?” Wooyoung inquires, head tilting to the side in echo to his question.

“I need to tell Hongjoong what happened.” Yunho brings a hand up to his pale hair and runs his long fingers through the locks, eyes squeezed shut for several seconds.

“Y/N and I can do that, Yunho,” San interrupts. He motions to where you’re sitting, and the sudden attention has you straightening your back and nodding a few times. “Take care of Wooyoung and yourself first.”

You expect some sort of denial from Yunho, but one glance at Wooyoung has him nodding in agreement before leading the way out of the mess hall. You and San are suddenly very alone in the large room. The weight of what just happened begins to sink in, one thing nagging at the forefront of your mind more than anything else.

Mingi apologized. Not just a half-assed emotionless apology either. His tone held guilt, and it was clear that he genuinely felt back about nearly choking Yunho to death.

“Hey…” San is suddenly at your side, hand rubbing between your shoulder blades, and you jerk your head to look up at his face. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you agree quickly.

“That’s not a pretty sight, I know.”

“I’ve never seen something like… that. Fights, sure. But t-that was so–”

“Sudden?”

“Exactly,” you confirm through a sigh. With a small shake of your head, you push up from the table and step over the bench to stand beside San.

“Mingi is a hand grenade with a hairpin trigger, but he isn’t that way intentionally. He is trying to get better. We have good days and bad days with him, then we have days like today. Rough but productive. There was a time when Mingi wouldn’t have hesitated to kill Yunho, and there was a time when he couldn’t even be in the same room as us.” San offers a shrug before motioning to the other end of the mess hall opposite the doors Yunho and the others left out of.

“So, this is normal or…?” You trail off before finishing the question, staying close to San’s side as he leads the way to the bridge.

“Yeah, you could say that. I know it’s not something that you’ve gotten the pleasure of seeing or witnessing, but this has happened several times since you joined the crew.”

“He didn’t want to hurt Yunho,” you note in a quiet tone.

“Of course, he didn’t. He never wants to hurt anyone, especially not anyone on the crew. He wants to have a reason to hurt someone before doing so. He has no qualms with hurting or killing someone who hurts one of us first. Or even threatens us for that matter.” San hesitates to look down at you. “Mingi is a lot like you and me in actuality. He has these ghosts of the past that haunt him. A guilt he’s grown into and a burden on his shoulders. The person he used to be isn’t the person he wants to be now. Unlike us, however, he doesn’t have the luxury of knowing and understanding his own emotions. He was conditioned to ignore them and block them out. Robbed of basic knowledge on how emotions work. So he has a harder time because he has to relearn what it means to feel things. It’s one thing to kill and feel nothing, but another to kill and not understand why you’re in pain.”

“Then he had a visceral reaction to hearing that we’re on Kebos because of what? Since this is where he was born and raised? Or because he feels like he’s being forced back?”

“Part of him fears that he’ll be the same person he used to be, and that being on Kebos will reawaken that part of him. Or that he won’t be able to hold the voices back and turn back into the monster he used to be.”

“The voices?” You glance at San out the corner of your eye.

“Yeah, like flashbacks but without the visual hallucinations.” San cracks a small smile.

“I know what you mean by voices, smartass. I was asking about what he hears.”

“I know, I know. He hears the cheering from the arena most of the time. Cries for blood and death. Other times he will hear his master’s voice telling him to kill. But from what I understand, it’s constant. They never leave him alone, even when he’s asleep.” San comes to a halt, and it’s only when you glance forward that you realize you’ve made it to Hongjoong’s office. There’s a faint din coming from inside, rapidly exchanged words that you can’t make out, but you’re certain that it’s Seonghwa and Hongjoong. San knocks his knuckles against the door several times. The voices fall silent, then the sound of Seonghwa clearing his throat breaches the door. Three seconds later, the door slides open to reveal the dark-haired lieutenant. He looks like he hasn’t slept a single day in the whole week that has passed since you saw him last, but you don’t have time to dwell on that fact because San is already speaking on your left.

“Mingi had an episode in the mess hall.”

✧✧✧ a/n: okay ngl i feel like this chapter is a bit of a mess so im sorry for that ;-; i couldn’t get a chance to sit down and write it in one sitting and make everything as cohesive as i wanted and i ended up cutting some bits so that i could shift them into the next chapter instead so we’re left with this hot mess 😭

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[robininthelabyrinth]

Would you continue the prompt with the Nie brothers going back in time?

sequel to this

Nie Mingjue started his first week back in time with training.

All those years as a spirit, unable to transcend to reincarnation, had taught him some little amount of patience – he had so much to do, so many things to accomplish, but no matter how much he itched to get started on all of them, it would all go to waste if he didn’t first acclimate himself to this time period, if he didn’t figure out how to pretend that he wasn’t decades older than his current self; if he slipped up, his father would think he was possessed.

Baxia continued to be unusually cooperative, almost as if she, too, knew that they needed to keep up a proper façade – she fought with him, of course, straining in his hands to go destroy things, but it’s playful, a game of tug-of-war rather than a serious attempt to go slaughter the wicked. He smiled at her as he went through the endless motions of saber control while the family elders studied his every action closely to make sure he wasn’t inadvertently heading down the wrong path.

Not his father, luckily; he was preoccupied with Sect matters during this time, and they usually only ever saw each other very briefly over breakfast – it wasn’t that Nie Mingjue wasn’t glad to see his father alive and well, he was, desperately. It was only that he didn’t actually remember what the man had been like at this time, all the good memories he had of him overshadowed by the horrible six months between his saber breaking and his actual death. 

He didn’t remember what it was like, having a father, and that made things awkward in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

The only problem Nie Mingjue had foreseen with his plan was that he would invariably be reluctant to leave Nie Huaisang’s side for too long, but that ended up not being an issue - Nie Huaisang often came to play by the side of the training field. He was too small to train in anything but the most basic arm motions, small weights wrapped around his wrists to slowly strengthen his shoulders as he ran around and mimicked Nie Mingjue’s actions with a stick, but there, always there, and it was an unspeakable relief.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure he remembered Nie Huaisang being quite so consistent with his presence, but he assumed the issue was with his memory – it had been so many years, after all.

It was good that it was this way, though. Nie Mingjue hadn’t been sure how else he’d explain why he wanted to keep so close a watch over his brother.

It was only a few days in when he was finally allowed to do more than the basic movements. In a fit of wicked amusement, he did a move that was more advanced than he really should be capable of at this age, prodigy or not,  throwing Baxia out in that most familiar motion that had been burned into him by the war, sending her piercing through the training dummy before summoning her back with a flick of his wrist.

He grinned unreservedly when Baxia returned to him, feeling finally a bit more like himself, and for some reason that was when Nie Huaisang started crying.

Nie Mingjue immediately turned and ran over to him, the decade he’d spent being both mother and father to him kicking in at once to override any other instincts he might have. But there wasn’t anything wrong with him that he could see: Nie Huaisang was fine.

Just – crying. Sobbing unreservedly, as if his heart had broken.

“Shh, Huaisang, it’s all right,” Nie Mingjue said, trying to coax him. Four-year-olds were so difficult! “Don’t worry, da-ge’s here – do you want to hold Baxia?”

Nie Huaisang shook his head and clung onto his clothing, burying his face with a nose full of snot right onto Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. Nie Mingjue sighed a little: if he’d actually still been twelve, he would be extremely uncomfortable right now, a little repulsed, a little helpless.

Twelve, in other words.

It didn’t bother him now. It was amazing what sort of gross bodily functions became boring and ordinary after you’d had the experience of being brutally dismembered, your soul forcefully broken into pieces and sealed so you couldn’t escape.

He ignored the disapproving gazes of his elders – interrupting saber practice for a little boy’s tears was not approved conduct, and he’d probably have to report to the punishment hall later for breach of discipline – and picked Nie Huaisang up in his arms, enjoying that they were both still young enough that the action would not be seen as odd. 

He carried him inside.

“You’re not hurt?” he checked again, and Nie Huaisang shook his head once more. “Hungry?” Another no. “Too hot?” Averted eyes, so maybe. “Do you want to play something else?”

A hesitant nod.

Nie Mingjue still wasn’t sure what had set Nie Huaisang off, but based on the way he’d grown up, he thought he might have a good idea about what he’d like.

He took him up to their mother’s old bedroom – technically Nie Mingjue’s mother, since Nie Huaisang’s sadly short-lived mother had been a concubine – and searched in her things, finally pulling out one of the fans he was pretty sure he’d seen Nie Huaisang gawking over as a child and then treasuring as an adult.

“Here,” he said, smiling as he offered it up, “this is something to play with and keep cool – no, no, Huaisang, didi! Why are you crying now?”

Nie Huaisang clutched the fan and wailed, throwing himself at Nie Mingjue, mumbling something about da-ge being the best da-ge and possibly also something about ‘never knew it was you’ which – what?

Maybe Nie Huaisang had dozed off in the heat while watching Nie Mingjue train and had a nightmare.

Feeling more than a little helpless, Nie Mingjue just gave up understanding the inexplicable and just went about the rest of his day with a small child on one arm, which seemed to work well enough in convincing Nie Huaisang not to cry any more. When he visited the punishment hall to report on his broken training, the elder there – while approving of his principles – couldn’t resist asking him about it, and Nie Mingjue had shrugged and said something about lifting weights.

Nie Huaisang giggled. “I’m the best weight!”

“See?” Nie Mingjue said to the elder, who was fighting a smile. “He’s the best weight. I get stronger supporting him, and he’s never a burden.”

For some reason, that made Nie Huaisang go quiet, burying his face in Nie Mingjue’s shoulder as if he’d once again gone shy, and it wasn’t until they were outside – in view of voluntarily accepting the consequences of his actions, Nie Mingjue was only required to spend some time kneeling in reflection – that he spoke again.

“I won’t be a burden to you, da-ge,” he said, very seriously. He really had surprisingly good diction for a child of his age, which Nie Mingjue hadn’t noticed in his first life. But then, who would have ever noticed a scholarly genius in the Unclean Realm? “I promise. I won’t ever drag you down or – or embarrass you.”

Nie Mingjue thought of the future – years and years of Nie Huaisang, amateur good-for-nothing eventually ascending into the level of professional, followed by years of using that very uselessness as a mask to hide the oriole as it slowly stalked the mantis – and couldn’t resist chuckling. 

“What embarrassment?” he asked, teasing. “Do I look like someone who can’t handle losing a bit of face? Do as you like, as long as you’re happy. Walk whatever path you like; no matter what you choose, your da-ge will hold up the world for you.”

This time around, he promised himself that he’d keep that vow. He might be doomed to die an early death in this life, Baxia conquering his spirit until he entered qi deviation even if there was no poisoned Song of Clarity pouring into his ears, but at least this time he knew it: he could lay the proper foundation to make sure Nie Huaisang would be properly taken care of, this time, put loyal retainers at his side to do the dirty work he’d sullied his own hands with in a previous future life.

“…thank you, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, and he was rubbing his eyes again, all red, but at least he hadn’t descended into sobbing again.

Children were so hard to understand.

“You still need to work hard to form your golden core,” Nie Mingjue told him, a little worried – he knew himself, knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist spoiling Nie Huaisang even more in this life than in the last, knew that it had been painfully hard for Nie Huaisang to get his core formed the last time around. He didn’t have a talent for it, plain and simple, but it still had to be done. “It’s important, okay, Huaisang? Even if you don’t really like playing with sabers or training, you still have to do that much. Without a golden core, you’re just a regular person, with a short life and no way to protect yourself…you don’t want to make your da-ge have to bury you, do you?”

That would kill him more assuredly than any qi deviation.

Nie Huaisang quivered all over and shook his head furiously. “I’ll work hard, da-ge! I promise!”

A simple conversation wasn’t going to be enough to mitigate a little of Nie Huaisang’s inevitable laziness, but that was fine; they had time left. Nie Mingjue wasn’t planning on dying so young that he wouldn’t live to see Nie Huaisang properly set down the path of their family’s road to cultivation, even if he knew already that he’d only abandon it later.

-

A couple of days after that, just as he was considering his options in terms of how to convince their father to send someone to search for Meng Yao, who he at least had a general idea of where he was located, Nie Huaisang toddled down to the main room with a piece of paper crushed in his grubby little fist.

“Mail!” he exclaimed happily. “Baba, mail!”

“A-die, Huaisang,” their father said, fond but a little long-suffering already. “Not baba. Your da-ge calls me a-die; you should…Huaisang. Did you wash your hands before you went to get the mail?”

Nie Huaisang blinked up at him, so obviously innocent that he was clearly pretending not to understand the question as if it could erase the misdeed, and Nie Mingjue coughed very hard into his fist in a vain effort to keep from laughing.

His father gave him a stern look that wasn’t stern at all – the twitching lips not entirely hidden behind his trimmed beard rather destroyed the effect – and shook his head at Nie Huaisang, who definitely knew better.

“What sort of dirt were you even playing with this early?” he asked, plucking the crushed letter out of Nie Huaisang’s hands; he sounded as helpless as Nie Mingjue always felt. It was good to know that parenting Nie Huaisang was a challenge no matter who was doing it. “How did you even..? Look at this, Huaisang; the entire thing is almost illegible. It looks like a dog ate it.”

“And then threw it back up,” Nie Mingjue added, aware that he was not being helpful and enjoying it to its fullest. “What is it, anyway?”

“Doesn’t seem like anything much, a request for aid from – uh – Yingchuan…? Mingjue, see if you can read this.”

Nie Mingjue accepted it, suddenly excited: if he recalled correctly, Yingchuan – technically a region that ought to be asking for help from Qishan Wen, not Qinghe Nie, but everyone knew who was more likely to show up without demanding unreasonable things in exchange – was where Wei Wuxian had spent some years as a child, very likely the years without his parents. It had come up in conversation once, Wei Wuxian having been greatly ashamed to discover that certain parts of his speech shared  intonations with Wen Chao’s whore, who also came from that region.

“It must be from the Yingchuan Wang sect,” he agreed, squinting at the truly ghastly calligraphy. It looked as though it had been written by a small child – a very careful one that knew all the right letters, but definitely as though the brush had been clutched in a fist rather than held correctly. “Seeking assistance with…something. It’s just an ink splotch now. A-die, can I go?”

His father blinked, clearly surprised by the request. “You? Why? We don’t need to curry favor Yingchuan Wang, of all people, by sending the heir; I was planning on sending a few outer disciples.”

“If some outer sect disciples can do it, so can I,” Nie Mingjue pointed out, quite reasonably in his mind. “And while we might not need Yingchuan Wang, you know they’ll be unbearably smug about having been so honored – they’ll tell everyone and their neighbor about it, and that’ll make Wen Ruohan waste time wondering what it is that they have that we want.”

“Sect Leader Wen,” his father reminded him, and, oh, right, they hadn’t reached the point of totally breaking ties with them yet – that had only happened after his father’s death. The mildness of the rebuke and the lack of any punishment, though, suggested that things were already quite tense between them. “And I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to go so soon after you’ve started properly training your spiritual weapon.”

“Training is only training,” Nie Mingjue reminded his father in turn. Nie Huaisang’s head was turning between the two of them like a window swinging in a strong wind. “I won’t be able to actually call her mine until I’ve bloodied her in combat.”

He’d taken Baxia’s first blood himself, of course, cutting his hand on the blade to give her the first taste of blood so that she’d know her master; he’d replicated the action after he’d come back in time, a reminder of the bond between them, and his hand still had a bandage, the palm still a little tender as the scar settled into place – a terrible place for a cut, really, but that was the point. Accepting something as dangerous as a saber should hurt.

But the saber spirits were cultivated through battle with evil, doing battle with resentful energy – if Nie Mingjue truly wanted to become stronger, and he did, desperately, he needed to go night-hunting. Twelve was a bit young to go out solo, most cultivators waiting until fourteen or fifteen so that they could make a good showing, but Qinghe Nie had always been a bit fast on that front.

In the end, fame was only secondary; before anything else, they had to uphold justice and suppress evil.

“Give me your saber,” his father ordered, and Nie Mingjue hesitated for a moment – old memories, bad ones, ones that hurt – but then he forced away his uneasiness and unhooked Baxia from his back to offer it over to his father, saber balanced between his two palms.

His father put his hand over Baxia, his brow furrowing with concentration as he examined the saber, and eventually he frowned.

“She’s very strong,” he said, and from his tone Nie Mingjue knew it wasn’t entirely a good thing; a powerful saber at such a young age meant Nie Mingjue’s talent for cultivation was prodigious – Baxia had always been exceptional, even in his first life, and especially in comparison later on with Aituan, Nie Huaisang’s lazy plonk of a saber – but it would make things harder for him later. “Yes, perhaps you should go. The sooner your saber learns to hate evil, the better.”

Nie Mingjue smiled.

“Da-ge…” Nie Huaisang said, clearly looking worried and also oddly dissatisfied, a twist of his lips as if something hadn’t gone according to plan, but Nie Mingjue leaned over and ruffled his hair until he squeaked. “Da-ge!”

“Don’t worry, Huaisang. I’ll take some disciples with me. It’ll be fine.”

-

The Yingchuan Wang sect was even more annoying than Nie Mingjue had previously remembered them being – they acted as though they’d never written any sort of letter, strutting around as if they were proud (proud!) that there was such a large disaster in their territory that sect cultivators and rogue cultivators alike were making their way over to find the creature that had murdered so many, villagers and traveling passer-by alike.

Nie Mingjue had racked his memory to try to see if he could figure out what type of beast there was here, but he couldn’t remember – it hadn’t made much of an impact in his last life, when he’d been at home focusing on taming Baxia, and no one had ever mentioned exactly what it was later on.

Still, it didn’t make much of a difference. They hadn’t been out in the deeply forested valley for more than half a shichen when Nie Mingjue stepped on the right piece of disturbed soil and immediately knew that there was a mass grave here.

He’d seen too many battles not to recognize the signs.

A mass grave, a sign of many deaths all at once, and yet this was an era of peace with no reported battles anywhere nearby –

“Shit,” he said shortly, and the Nie cultivators with him – all older than him and nominally more experienced – turned to look at him. “There was a plague here. Probably covered up by the local people, the corpses buried without any ritual or purification…and that’s assuming they were all dead when they went into the earth. Best case scenario, we’ll have an entire group of mid-level fierce corpses, possibly high-level; worst case scenario, all that, but with a demon and maybe some guai to join in – dead or sick dogs are often thrown into these sorts of pits as well.”

“Pits?” one of the cultivators asked. “Nie-gongzi, what pit –”

“Look at the earth!” Nie Mingjue snapped. “You can see that all of it has been disturbed, with no plants growing but the ill-omened ones. Smell the air! Blood mixing in with soil, a hint of decay, of sickness in the surrounding trees...you can sense the resentful energy that hangs over this place – it’s a mass grave, recently interred, and without any battles in the area, that means plague. And Yingchuan Wang didn’t say a damn word about it!”

No wonder Wei Wuxian’s parents had died. Nie Mingjue had known he was going to go up against something fierce and brought more help than he would have normally bothered with – his father had agreed on the basis that Nie Mingjue was, well, twelve – and even he wasn’t sure they’d be able to tackle something of this magnitude: a pair of rogue cultivators, no matter how naturally talented, couldn’t fail to be overwhelmed.

“You three, go scout out the full size of the grave,” he ordered, falling easily and immediately into giving orders. This was not a good situation, but he’d met with worse during the war; as long as swift and decisive action could be taken, it could still be resolved in their favor. “You and you, start setting up a five-point suppression array on the parts of it we can see – here, and over by the large oaks there. If we get the array up in time, we’ll be able to keep more corpses from rising and hitting us from behind as we take the ones already risen. We remaining three will each go separately into the forest to begin hunting; take flares with you in the event you encounter something you can’t handle, and if you see any rogue cultivators, bring them back here at once.”

“Rogue cultivators?” Nie Zonghui, one of the ones he’d tasked with hunting, asked, looking dumb, and all of them were staring blankly at him as if they hadn’t understood a single word he’d said. “Why –”

“Are you disciples of my Nie sect or not?” Nie Mingjue roared, ignoring how much less impressive it was when his voice was still young and tender. “I gave you orders, and you’re still here gawking! Get moving!”

They scattered immediately, sect discipline kicking in almost before he finished shouting.

“Rogue cultivators are typically weak; they will only be a burden, and taking the time to rescue them will divert our attention from the main target,” Nie Zonghui said, still lingering a little. “Nie-gongzi, are you sure –”

“No matter how weak they are, they can still form a shield line,” Nie Mingjue said firmly. Nie Zonghui was a cousin and a good soldier; Nie Mingjue could take the time to answer his question, even if he was going to insist that the man submit to punishment later for questioning his commander during battle. He understood, of course – the commander in question was twelve, and the post was meant to be nominal, more a sop to a child’s ego than an actual hierarchy – but that didn’t change the fact of it. “Suppressing evil before it can spread is the priority, but I won’t spend lives cheaply, either ours or theirs. Think of it practically: rogue cultivators don’t have access to the same soul-calming rituals as the major sects, so if they die or are injured, they might become possessed, and the number of our enemies will grow. Now go.”

Nie Zonghui nodded sharply. “Understood, Nie-gongzi.”

It was very strange being called Nie-gongzi again after so many years of being called Sect Leader Nie, Nie Mingjue reflected as he flew into the deeper parts of the forest, letting an eager Baxia guide him towards the thickest concentration of resentful energy. He’d have to learn to adjust, especially if he hoped to keep his father alive this time around…

“Are you insane?” he blurted out, throwing himself down into the ongoing battle that he found there. 

There was a demon, it appeared, the twisted remains of what had been a living man, plague-ridden and thrown into a pit to be buried alive among the bodies of the dead; the resentment had overcome the man before death had taken him, and he rose from his too-early grave. If he had limited himself to those that had wronged him, Nie Mingjue might have understood – the Nie sect wasn’t as inflexible as the Lan sect when it came to allowing the dead to find purification through revenge – but this one had clearly gone well beyond that.

A pair of rogue cultivators, a man and a woman, had apparently encountered the demon by chance and decided to take it on by themselves in what Nie Mingjue could only assume was a combination of sheer bullheaded stupidity and a lack of other options, and it was going about was well as one might expect – the woman was about to be pierced through the neck from behind, having given up her defensive position to shove her husband out of harm’s way.

Nie Mingjue came down at that moment, using gravity to help bring Baxia down on the demon’s outstretched hand with full force; the hand snapped under the strain and the demon roared, furious, and Nie Mingjue engaged it at once to give the other two time to regroup.

“Thank you, daozhang,” the man gasped, grabbing his wife and pulling her back towards him – they both had swords, although she also had a horsetail whisk shoved into her belt – and then he presumably had enough time to actually get a look at who had saved him. “You’re a child!”

Nie Mingjue ignored him; it was true, for the moment, and at least the man hadn’t picked the word for a child under the age of ten. Another thing he’d have to adjust to, he supposed: being treated by the rest of the world as a child. Not everyone had proper sect discipline that he could rely on, after all…

“Whatever his age may be, he saved my neck and your ass,” the woman says, and pulls out her whisk. “Daozhang, there are three of us now, we can suppress it –”

It was a good suggestion, and Nie Mingjue nodded. “North facing mountain array?” he suggested. While not the most efficient, it was the most common three-point array; most rogue cultivators would know it.

“Do you know the budding lotus pattern?” the man asked, and Nie Mingjue took half a moment to realize that he’d apparently just run into Wei Wuxian’s unfortunate parents.

“Yes. Yunmeng style?” he asked, and the man nodded. “I’ll take the center.”

“Are you sure you can handle the strain –?” the man began, and his wife kicked him.

“He’ll be fine, you mother hen,” she said fondly. “He’s neither injured nor tired, unlike us, and that saber of his will keep him stabilized. Move!”

-

A three point array, especially one centered by a twelve-year-old, wasn’t enough to actually suppress a full fledged demon, but the woman used her whisk to good effect and between the three of them they were able to slowly harry it back towards the mass grave.

Nie Zonghui and Lin Tianfeng had found their own targets as well, using their sabers to drive the corpses back into the larger array where they would be trapped; they’d also found some rogue cultivators, who were standing guard around the Nie cultivators focused on maintaining the array. All had rather relieved expressions on their faces.

Nie Zonghui glanced over when Nie Mingjue and his group emerged, a momentary flash of relief at seeing Nie Mingjue unharmed that quickly turned into horror when he realized Nie Mingjue had managed to run into the demon; he shouted for Lin Tianfeng to cover his group of corpses and ran over.

Normally, Nie Mingjue would scold him at once for leaving his appointed position, but at the moment he was breathing too hard to speak, so Nie Zonghui’s actions could be probably be excused as a reasonable concern for the condition of his commander. 

He gestured with his head towards Rogue Cultivator Wei, the weakest of their triangle, and Nie Zonghui changed his direction at once. To his credit, Rogue Cultivator Wei didn’t protest and swapped out immediately, though he stayed close by, sword at the ready.

Once the demon was in the five-point array, Nie Mingjue pulled back and took a moment to breathe – he hadn’t been this tired in years, being twelve was awful, he needed to get back his cultivation as soon as possible – and then shook his head to clear it. “Exterminate them,” he ordered.

“Shouldn’t we try to purify them first?” Nie Zonghui asked.

“No need. I performed Empathy on one of them earlier: they’ve already wiped out the villagers that did this to them and didn’t stop,” Cangse Sanren said crisply. “There’s nothing left to liberate here, and demons that have grown hungry for blood and souls are not easily suppressed. You should listen to your young master’s instincts.”

Nie Zonghui flushed at the rebuke and hurried off to guide the other cultivators in eliminating the target. Nie Mingjue examined his own cultivation and decided against going to help; if they needed his participation, he could, but it would be a strain.

Rogue Cultivator Wei sat down on the ground with a sigh, clearly thinking the same; his wife came over to him and he learned his head against her waist, her hand in his hair. They murmured sweet things to each other for a bit – Nie Mingjue politely pretended to have gone temporarily deaf – and then they both turned to him.

“Thank you, Nie-gongzi,” Rogue Cultivator Wei said. “My name is Wei Changze –”

So that’s what his name was; Nie Mingjue had utterly forgotten it.

“– and this is my wife, Cangse Sanren, a pupil of Baoshan Sanren.”

“Nie Mingjue,” Nie Mingjue said, and tiredly raised his hands to properly salute them. “Well met.”

“It’s a bit more than merely well,” Cangse Sanren said, smiling; there was a great deal of Wei Wuxian in her eyes and the way she smiled, though her tiny button of a nose would have looked very odd on the handsome young man her son would later become. “You saved our lives. Is there anything we can do for you in return?”

Nie Mingjue was tired; his cultivation exhausted, his arms hurting from the strain of supporting both saber and array, and Baxia was complaining that she’d barely gotten a few stabs in the demon and why wasn’t he over there helping everyone out when all he wanted was to close his eyes. 

Those were the only excuses he could give for his thoughtlessly rude response.

“Just don’t leave your son alone when you night-hunt in the future,” he said, churlish with the mental image of Wei Wuxian merging with Nie Huaisang at the same age. “When the food you left for him and the landlord’s patience run out, what do you think will become of him? Do you want to see him fighting wild dogs on the streets for something to eat?!”

They both looked dumbfounded by that response and Nie Mingjue winced; he hadn’t meant to be so blunt about it. His reputation as an excessively straightforward man had always been justified by reality, but he usually managed to remember to keep to the rules of etiquette – being twelve was making him unduly impulsive.

“Forgive me,” he said hastily. “It’s not my business, I know; only it’s been a long day –”

“No, you’re right,” Cangse Sanren said, her eyes wide. “If you hadn’t come in time, we would have both perished, and then A-Ying…”

“Jiang-ge would have come to find him,” Wei Changze said, although he looked disturbed as well. “He would have –”

“How long would it have taken?” she demanded. “We’ve fallen out of the habit of writing letters; the last one we posted was from Tanzhou – it would be months before he realized something was wrong, and even then he would have gone the wrong way entirely!”

“A-Ying could have…no, he’s too young to remember Yunmeng, he wouldn’t have known –”

Nie Mingjue, who had been forgotten, coughed to get their attention. He didn’t quite feel up to walking away, which meant he had to stop this argument or else be stuck listening to it.

“Surely there’s some sect you can house in until your child is old enough,” he said, meaning the Jiang sect but unable to say it so bluntly. “That way he’ll won’t waste time kicking his heels while you’re away on night hunts.”

“I don’t want him to start training this early,” Cangse Sanren objected. “Children so young should be playing.”

Nie Mingjue huffed a laugh. “My younger brother would agree with you,” he said, though in fairness Nie Huaisang hadn’t actually yet reached the age where he’d start complaining non-stop about having to do lessons or training or – well, anything. It wasn’t as though they’d know. “He’s very firm about getting in at least three hours of cloud-watching every day. Says it’s good for his health.”

“You have a younger brother?” Wei Changze asked, smiling. “How old?”

“Close enough to step on your son’s robes,” Nie Mingjue said, then remembered he hadn’t ever asked the age of their son. “I’d guess, anyway. He’s less than half my age.”

Wei Chagnze looked at his wife and she looked back at him, that wordless communication that married couples that liked each other tended to have – Nie MIngjue had once said to Lan Xichen that if they could bottle that they’d never have another information leak ever again, making his friend laugh to tears, and oh, Lan Xichen, he’d be around now, wouldn’t he, but he’d be so small, they hadn’t even met yet – and then he said, “Can we come with you?”

Which – what?

He blinked at them. “Don’t you want to return to the Lotus Pier?”

He’d just assumed that they would: Wei Wuxian had grown up in the Jiang sect in the end, after all.

The two of them looked at each other again and then both smiled wryly, and suddenly Nie Mingjue remembered all those awkward rumors about Sect Leader Jiang having a thing for either one or the other or both of them and then having shortly thereafter married Yu Ziyuan while notoriously still pining; he felt his cheeks grow hot and cursed his twelve-year-old body once again.

“Uh, right. I mean – sure?” he hazarded. “My Nie sect is always happy to host guest cultivators of talent.”

“You saved our lives, and maybe even our son’s,” Cangse Sanren said firmly. “We owe you a life debt, and that cannot be so easily repaid. The least we can do is give your sect any merits that we earn.”

Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure that was how life debts worked – it mostly seemed like his saving their life now meant he had to find a place to house them – but whatever, he’d known that changing the past would cause some other things to change.

He hadn’t expected that it would be his sect that got stuck with the future Yiling Patriarch.

Still, that wasn’t all bad: Nie Huaisang had greatly enjoyed Wei Wuxian’s company while at the Cloud Recesses, and he’d gone to no little effort to eventually resurrect the man – they could be friends from an earlier time, this life. Maybe Wei Wuxian would end up not becoming the Yiling Patriarch at all, or maybe Yiling Wei would end up under his father or mother instead, or – who knows?

Certainly not Nie Mingjue.

“That seems fine,” he said, and stood with a stretch: the array had been successfully converted from suppression to eradication, and the demon and all the corpses were just about gone. That meant it was time to go home, since the Nie sect obviously wasn’t going to go claim any rewards and the rogue cultivators would spread all the rumors he might wish. “Go pick up Wei Wuxian and make your way to the Unclean Realm in Qinghe; you’ll be welcome there.”

“Wuxian?” Wei Changze said thoughtfully. “Wei Wuxian – I like the sound of that.”

“An excellent courtesy name,” Cangse Sanren agreed, smiling. “Thank you for your suggestion, Nie-gongzi. We’ve been arguing for months over what it should be.”

Nie Mingjue, who had entirely forgotten that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have received his courtesy name yet, flushed red, babbled something polite to make his farewells, and went back with the others.

-

His father was waiting for him inside. “How did it go?” he asked, the question obviously aimed as much at Nie Zonghui as at Nie Mingjue himself.

“It went well,” Nie Mingjue replied. “Yingchuan Wang didn’t give us any useful information, but we were able to find the problem and eradicate it; no serious issues came up.”

“Good.”

“Sect Leader Nie,” Nie Zonghui said, his face and voice both a bit odd. “Might I have a word..?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t have time to think about that: Nie Huaisang had run over and started tugging at his clothing, demanding to hear about the trip, what he’d done, whether he’d met anyone interesting…

“I met a very nice couple, rogue cultivators, with a son your age,” Nie Mingjue told him, taking him off to the side so Nie  Zonghui could speak to his father with some privacy. “They’ll be coming here before the season turns.”

“Coming here? Why here?”

“Adult stuff,” Nie Mingjue said, shrugging helplessly – how to explain the complicated web of affection between people? But Nie Huaisang, with the usual impatience of children, merely went ‘oh’ as if everything was explained. “You can be friends with him, if you like, Huaisang. Wouldn’t you like another brother?”

Nie Huaisang wrinkled his nose. “Well, maybe. Not if he’s not going to stick around.”

That was fair. Rogue cultivators weren’t exactly known for staying put, and the issue they’d faced this time around would only persist until Wei Wuxian was old enough to care for himself – not long at all.

“Mingjue!” his father called, and now he had a strange expression; Nie Mingjue took Nie Huaisang by the hand and walked back over. “You confronted a plague demon on your own?”

Nie Mingjue frowned. “No, of course not,” he said. “There were two rogue cultivators –”

“A demon and nearly two dozen high-level fierce corpses,” his father said. “Arising from a hidden plague pit which you were able to identify before anyone else, and then you took command, ordering the array to be set up, assigning tasks, the entire thing resulting in a successful hunt with no casualties – all of this on your first real night-hunt. And your only report to me was it went well?!”

Nie Mingjue had no idea what his father wanted him to say here. “It did go well, though?”

His father laughed and ruffled his hair, making Nie Mingjue scowl. “It was indeed very well done,” he said, and he looked proud; Nie Mingjue felt an unfamiliar warmth in his chest. “Anything else you want to add to Nie Zonghui’s description?”

Nie Mingjue cast a slightly guilty glance at his cousin, who had apparently been very complimentary, but well, rules were rules for a reason. “While understandable given my age, Fourth Uncle questioned my judgment instead of following orders,” he said. “It wasn’t an issue and I’m sure he wouldn’t have done it if the battle conditions were more imminent, but I would still recommend an evening reflecting on sect discipline.”

Nie Zonghui bowed in acknowledgment; he was grinning for some reason, and his good humor didn’t seem even remotely dented by the prospect. “Of course.”

“Anything else?” his father asked. He looked extremely amused: had he and Nie Zonghui shared some sort of joke? “Zonghui said you had no issues with flying on Baxia, and that you wielded it well; also that you took the center for a three-point array with the two rogue cultivators to drive the demon back towards the large suppression array.”

Nie Mingjue nodded; he’d expected that Nie Zonghui’s report would have included that, so he hadn’t bothered to mention it. Though now that he thought of it, there was something he should share with his father. 

“I invited the two rogue cultivators to become guest disciples here, along with their son,” he said. “Daozhang Wei Changze, formerly of Yunmeng Jiang, and his wife Cangse Sanren, disciple of Baoshan Sanren –”

“They want to be guest disciples here? Not Yunmeng Jiang?”

“I didn’t press for details,” Nie MIngjue said, feeling his face flush red again; seeing it, both his father and Nie Zonghui burst out laughing. “Anyway, I said they’d be welcome. I hope I didn’t overstep.”

“Of course they’re welcome,” his father said, wiping his eyes. “They’re very well regarded, even if Sect Leader Jiang will probably find a way to poison my tea at the next discussion conference…you did well, Mingjue. You may have the remainder of the day to your leisure.”

Nie Mingjue nodded and took Nie Huaisang back to his room, which was about as messy as one would expect from a four year old. His little brother was pouting, so he squeezed his hand. “What’s got that look on your face?”

“You did so well, and all you get is half a day off?” Nie Huaisang said, a cute little scowl on his face. “He should’ve said something more.”

Nie Mingjue laughed. “We’ll probably have my favorite dishes for dinner sometime this week,” he predicted. “I don’t need more recognition than that. Now: what do you want to play?”

Nie Huaisang blinked up at him. “But baba said you had the second half of the day to do whatever you like.”

“And what I’d like to do is play with my didi,” Nie Mingjue said firmly: he’d regretted not spending enough time on Nie Huaisang in his past life, too busy with sect matters and his own issues, and he intended to remedy that this time around. He lifted Nie Huaisang and put him on the bed. “Come on, you pick something while I clean up a bit here so we’ll have space to sit.”

Nie Huaisang beamed, chattering at breakneck speed as to the various options of what they could do, while Nie Mingjue picked up the various toys and books lying around.

One of them was even a book of maps, which was far too valuable to be given to a child as young as Nie Huaisang; he tucked that one up high and reminded himself to take it back to the library when they were done playing, no matter if Nie Huaisang protested – if he wanted to look at pretty pictures, he could pick something else.

It wasn’t as if Nie Huaisang had any need to look up cities in Yunmeng, after all.

Though – now that he thought about it, maybe Nie Mingjue should take a look at that book before he returned it. If he remembered correctly, the page it had been open to had shown an image of Yunping City, where he might be able to find Meng Yao…

[undeadsnorlax]

Alone at Midnight, Inside My Mind

@badthingshappenbingo

Ao3 Link

Bingo Card

using the prompt in a metaphorical sense, as opposed to the medical aid sense

Prompt: Crutches

Fandom: Yakuza/Ryu Ga Gotoku

Warnings: a lot of alcohol related issues, including addiction and withdrawal, some suicidal thoughts and body image issues, hurt/no comfort. set pre-Yakuza 2.

Wordcount: 5511

2pm. He could tell it was because his downstairs neighbour was home, attending to the array of plant pots she kept littered outside her door, and playing music on the radio that bled through the crack of the open window.

Daigo squinted in the afternoon light that managed to make its way through the blinds, groaning loudly.

“Fucking hell…”

Suppose now was as good a time as any to start the day. Especially when he felt his stomach rumble.

It took some effort to get to his feet, but soon he was dragging himself into the kitchen, yawning loudly. He needed something quick and tasty, now.

The fridge had nothing but convenience store sushi and days old leftover curry. The cupboards were also pretty bare, half a bag of rice and a ramen cup.

Daigo sighed heavily, setting his kettle to boil before grabbing the sushi. He stuffed a piece into his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the taste of stale rice but ate another without any complaint.

Head to the store. Get some more food, he thought, holding the ramen cup in place as he lifted up the kettle.

The water splashed on the counter a little, narrowly missing burning his fingers, making him forcefully slam the kettle back down once the cup was filled.

Daigo gripped the sides of the counter, closing his eyes as he felt a pulse of nausea rush through his body. If he forced the tension against the surface hard enough, he could stop his hands shaking for just a moment.

Eat noodles. Have a shower. Go to the store.

Opening his eyes again, he ate another piece of sushi, absolutely no taste on his tongue as he chewed it into mush, before taking his ramen into the living room.

He slumped down on the couch, turning the TV on and forced the food down him. He still felt nauseous, but he knew he wouldn’t actually vomit. He already had last night. Doubled over in a bush outside the train station and puked his guts out, despite not having much solids in him. Even now his throat felt sore from it. Classy.

He wasn’t even hungry, really. He was eating out of obligation, feeling his stomach gurgle happily at finally being filled with some kind of food.

As he ate, he noticed his cell phone on the table in front of him, discarded amongst the empty bottles and candy wrappers. It was flashing.

Daigo frowned, reaching over and flipping it open.

Three new answer machine messages.

Who the hell had tried calling him?

Message one - 9:25am

“Daigo, it’s your mother. Pick up.”

Message two - 9:43am

“Me again. Please answer your phone.”

Message three - 10:08am

“Daigo...it’s Mom-“

Daigo groaned, snapping his phone shut to end the messages. Nope! He was not dealing with this today.

He discarded the empty ramen cup and chopsticks with the rest of the trash on the table, storming towards the bathroom.

Shower on, clothes off. He used the toilet as the water heated up, catching the reflection of his upper half in the mirror as he finished.

“Hrmph.”

He ran a hand down his front, resting it on the middle of his stomach and huffed again.

His weight had been up and down the last ten years, though it had obviously settled during his stint in prison, with its shit food and no alcohol. Now that he was out, with all the freedom to indulge in every last inch of hedonism he could find though, he had developed a bit of a gut. Just a bump, but it was…noticeable, it was there. It stuck out.

No surprise really. How much did he drink last night again?

Enough I puked in a bush.

Daigo shifted on his feet, standing up a bit straighter and sucking his stomach in. It didn’t make much difference. He suddenly wondered how visible it was under his t-shirt, glad he usually wore a thick coat to hide himself in.

“Great,” he growled, stepping into the shower. Another thing to feel insecure about.

He stood there, forehead pressed against the wall as he let the water run down the Fudo Myoo on his back.

His hand started shaking again.

“Give me a break,” he said, clasping it to his chest, “A few hours, a day.”

He dried himself off, going back to his bedroom for a clean shirt and pair of jeans – both black, of course.

He also grabbed a heavy hoodie to wear to the store, a way to feel a little more comfortable in himself in a public place.

Wallet, keys, phone. Go to store. Buy supplies.

Daigo pulled his hood up as he jogged down the stairs, immediately blocked from leaving by the downstairs neighbour still gardening.

“Lovely afternoon, isn’t it Dojima-san?” Ito cried, beaming at him. She was older, always so chipper. How did she manage?

As much as he wanted to ignore her, Daigo had been raised with far too proper manners. He still remained casual, grunting a little and rubbing the back of his head.

“Yeah, suppose.”

“You came back late again last night,” she added, hands lifting a plant to move to another pot, “Ouma-san went off about it before going to work this morning.”

“Oh, did he now?”

Ouma was the guy around his age in the apartment next door. Always miserable, always bringing a new girl home every weekend that Daigo had to endure hearing fake horribly through his thin bedroom walls.

“I’ll try to be a bit quieter next time, Ito-san,” he mumbled. For her sake, not for that asshole Ouma.

“Or maybe you should stay in once in a while, hm?”

Daigo scowled, jerking his head and storming off toward the store. With any luck the old bag would have gone inside by the time he was back.

As he made his way down the street, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He went to answer but paused, clenching his fingers tight into his palm. Nope. He knew who it was, and what she wanted, and he didn’t care.

His supply run was basic. More noodles, packs of chips and cookies, some onigiri and bentos that could last a few days.

Whilst picking up a few bottles of Staminan and Tauriner, he stared blankly at the alcohol.

His hands still shook. There was such a quick fix to settle that.

He grabbed a six pack of beer and a bottle of scotch and vodka, unable to help a crooked little grin.

The cashier looked at him a little oddly as he set his basket down on the counter. And yeah, he’d admit he looked strange. Sweating and shaky from withdrawal, under his eyes dark and his brow pulled into a near permanent scowl, face otherwise obscured by the shadow of the hood.

“Get me some cigarettes too, huh?” he mumbled, taking out his wallet and avoiding eye contact.

He was a mess.

He stared at the glass case of baked goods, unable to resist the pull from his sweet tooth, and asked for two donuts as well.

He arrived back home rather pleased with his haul. He had enough in him to pack away most of it, before he stared down the booze he bought.

He could...not do this, actually. He could not drink. It was easy, in theory.

He wiped his damp brow, licked his dry lips. His head hurt, despite the slight gloom of the kitchen.

They could sit there as an ultimate temptation. He could ignore them. He could do all manner of things.

But he wanted to drink, that was the issue. That was the whole point. Drinking was the only thing he had that stayed consistent.

He grabbed the scotch and slugged back a long mouthful, feeling everything just melt away. He let out a relieved gasp, the taste strong on his tongue and warming his throat. Felt like a part of him was back. His mind became a little clearer, his mood a little more elevated. He took a shorter swig for luck, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Much better…”

He spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on the sofa, playing video games. There wasn’t much else for him to do during the day.

Evening was his time.

When seven rolled around, Daigo got ready. His jeans and t-shirt were fine already, so all he had to do was put on his usual cross necklace to complete the outfit. He spent a while staring down himself in the mirror as he applied a shaky dash of eyeliner around his lid.

Once upon a time he shied away from doing this publicly, but since leaving jail he stopped caring. Wore eyeliner and straightened his hair. Painted his nails black and picked at the polish when he was anxious. Who gave a shit? Anyone dumb enough to say anything soon regretted it.

Keys, wallet, phone. Same routine. He chose his white puffer jacket to wear instead of his hoodie, enjoying the barrier it gave him from the rest of the world.

One quick metro ride later, he was in Kamurocho, just as the town was coming alive in a burst of neon. Daigo lost himself in the crowds, thinking of which bar to hit up first.

He paused for a moment down Tenkaichi Street, staring at the sign for Serena. Place was closed, and had been for a little under a year now.

He knew what happened last year, of course. Heard about Rina through another barkeep. Not that he’d known her well, or spent much time at Serena, but something in his chest ached hearing she was gone in such circumstances.

He soon forgot about it with another glass.

With a weary huff, he decided the Champion District on the other side of town was the best place to start. The bar he chose was quiet, no other customers, and a barman who knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Perfect.

Instead of conversation, Daigo focused on the soft jazz music playing as he nursed his whiskey. He was into heavier tunes, but he needed a bit more of a buzz before going to his favourite rock bar.

He tapped his nails against the glass, tilting his head. Good idea, actually. They did cheap shots and a big array of imports.

He slammed some cash down on the counter before stumbling into the street, glad to feel the slight evening chill on his cheeks.

Down to Pink Street, and into the rock bar he enjoyed. Already feeling at home with the heavy guitar music blasting over the speakers, most of the other patrons dressed in a similar style to him. He’d missed out on a lot of stuff whilst locked away, the slight sways in fashion that happened in such a short amount of time, but he liked knowing he was still on trend within his scene, mostly.

He sat at the counter, giving a half-grin to the girl working there, and ordered himself five shots of vodka.

His earlier drinks had been a warmup, these were the first leg of the race. The second came in the form of a large scotch, some new brand they’d started selling.

Honestly, the start to a perfect night for him, until he heard a small gasp from behind him.

“Hey! Aniki!”

Daigo’s heart sank at the voice, glancing over his shoulder. Five of the guys he usually hung around with were there – or more accurately, they hung around him.

He rolled his eyes and groaned, turning in his seat and glaring them down. He should never had shown them this place.

“What do you want?” he muttered, already knowing the answer.

“We didn’t know you were out today!” Arita cried, leaning up next to him, with that sycophantic look he always had in his eyes. As if Daigo wasn’t out every night.

“Why don’t you join us aniki?” Kubo asked, which actually translated to wanna pay for all our drinks because we’re cheap scrounging bastards?

Daigo groaned again, knocking back his glass and waving the bartender over again.

“If you quit calling me aniki.”

They didn’t, of course. They gleefully accepted the drinks he bought them with more coos of thank you Dojima-aniki. Daigo rubbed the bridge of his nose and ordered himself two double scotches, slugging them back like they were water.

“I was thinkin’ we could go to Dazzle after this,” Arita said, having not left Daigo’s side. He always babbled and talked too much, like he felt he had to fill every silence with his own voice save people be left alone with their own thoughts.

“Why there?” Daigo asked, thinking of all the things he’d rather do more than go to a hostess club, including and not limited to slamming his face into a lit stovetop and drowning in a hot tub.

“I just think the girls there are really underrated, y’know? I like that they have some slightly older gals, I love a mature lady. How about you?”

Daigo shoved a shard of ice from his glass into his mouth and let it melt on his tongue. “Come on then.”

He was paying for two hours and that was that. At least he could get a bottle for himself and work through that, sitting at the edge whilst the others enjoyed the girls’ company.

Dazzle might have specialised in more mature women, but the decor was a nightmare like every other hostess club. Why’d they always insist on so many sparkles, it gave him a headache.

“Um...are you enjoying yourself?”

Daigo lowered his gaze to look at the girl. ‘Mature’ really meant ‘late twenties’, and she was running on the younger side of that.

“What do you think?” he said coldly, swirling his drink in its glass.

She seemed a little dazed at this, glancing back at her fellow hostesses, but kept going.

“M-my name is Nashi. Yours?”

“Daigo Dojima.”

He clicked his tongue, emptied his glass and went to refill it, his shoulders slouching slightly. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so short, you’re only doing your job.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve had far worse responses.”

Daigo just gritted his teeth. Another reason he hated hostess clubs was he knew how other men treated these girls, saw it himself the times his father brought him along as a teen.

The least he could do was give this lady a nice conversation.

“Well, I’ll try to be a bit better than them,” he said, gesturing with his head towards the others, so loud and obnoxious.

Nashi smiled a little. “They’re not so bad. Your friends are just a bit...out there.”

He scoffed. “They’re not my friends. I don’t really...do friendship anymore.”

“Oh? How come?”

Shit. Of course, when you say something like that, people have questions. Daigo licked his lips in thought, considering how he should phrase this.

“You...don’t recognise my name, do you?”

Nashi blushed a little, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, well, you do have a bit of notoriety around town, Dojima-san. I know girls in other clubs, and they always talk about you.”

Daigo did a slight double take at this. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. You’re a rather…” She gestured at his coat and skinny jeans. “A striking figure, you know. A lot of girls like the edgy emo bad boy look. It’s popular right now.”

“Hm, figures.” A lot of men are also fans…

Daigo sat up a little straighter, gazing Nashi down. “Do you?”

“H-huh?”

“Find me attractive?”

It was a joke, said with a dry smirk, but she flustered, clearly uneasy. Daigo grimaced, sliding up a little closer and putting a hand to her knee.

“Hey, hey. I’m kidding.” He made his smirk a soft smile, broke down the facade for just a moment to put her at ease. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nashi’s eyes went wide, but nodded, brushing down the edges of her dress.

“A-anyway, I...I’ve heard you...were involved with the Tojo Clan. Is that why you don’t ‘do’ friends?”

“Mm. Essentially.”

Daigo gave up on the glass, swigging back from the bottle which got him a funny look from one of the other patrons across the way.

“My only friend murdered my father,” he said, so matter of fact. He hesitated a moment, letting out a short huff. “Well. He went to jail for the crime, at least. He was actually covering for someone else. Either way, I was left without his guidance for ten years, thinking he had betrayed me like that.”

He paused a second, swilling whiskey around his mouth, before continuing.

“I came back to town a few months ago and...he hasn’t bothered trying to find me. Which shows how little he cares.”

“Oh. That sounds...awful, Dojima-san.”

“It sure does, doesn’t it?”

Daigo shrugged, tilting the empty bottle back so he could savour just a few more drops as best he could. “That’s just how my life is now.”

He grumbled a little as he set the bottle down, belching into his cupped hand before draping himself back against the seat.

“Sometimes you gotta deal with the hand you're given,” he added, scratching lazily at his middle, “And unfortunately, I’ve had a poor deck from the start.”

He shut his eyes before letting out a laugh, forced and hollow. “Sorry. I’m not the best at keeping things light.”

How many hostesses had he paid to listen to him whine? Then he thought how they were probably all used to it, which made it even worse.

“Well, given your circumstances…”

Nashi glanced back at her co-workers, the barely hidden looks of disdain towards the rest of the crew and their boorish behaviour.

“I’d much rather talk to you though,” she said, reaching over to grab another one of the bottles along the table, gesturing toward his glass, “You’re nice.”

Daigo swallowed, nodding in approval as she filled it to the brim. His head pounded, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the music or the cravings.

“If you say so.”

The glass was empty in a flash, and filled just as quick.

“You’re good at this,” he purred.

The bottle was empty by the time the waiter came by. Daigo had just enough mental capacity to dig through his pockets and pay, giving Nashi a shaky smile and a pat on the knee.

“Thank you for tonight. You’re great.”

His friends, on the other hand, all started to whine as the waiter began to urge them into finishing their drinks.

“Aw, c’mon aniki, let’s hang around a bit longer!”

“If you want that, pay yourself, ya cheap fucks.”

Daigo stood up, a bit too quickly as he felt the room spin. He stumbled to the side slightly, wincing as he contained a belch that very much tasted of vomit. Nope! No puking tonight. Keep it all inside.

“I’m outta here,” he mumbled, resting a hand on any available solid surface to keep himself steady as he left.

He blanked out the cries of the others as he did. He’d wasted enough time with them tonight, and he was craving something else.

“Burger,” he mumbled, squinting as he glanced up and down the street, “Pffft...that way.”

This was always the worst part of the night. Trying to sober up enough so he could keep going, or at the very least get home in one piece. Stumbling through the streets and trying not to crack his skull open.

It wasn’t just food he craved though. He felt...itchy. That was the only way to really explain it. The desire to go wild, start a scuffle. Really earn that reputation he supposedly had.

To hell with staying in one piece.

But first, Smile Burger.

The fact that the poor worker even understood what he said through his slurred words was impressive and soon he was curled up against the window, feet pulled up on the chair beside him as he made his way through a burger that tasted like the finest wagyu steak right now.

All the while, he kept his eye out.

Yeah, it felt shitty to target people for a fight like this, but he made sure it was a fair fight. Usually a few guys, who looked like they could take a hit as well as throw one, maybe even have a chance if they weren’t facing someone running on adrenaline and too much booze.

He cocked his head as he focused on a table nearby. Four men, mid-twenties, definitely young yakuza from some family. He couldn’t see any lapel pin from where he was sat, but they were perfect.

Childishly, he picked up one of his fries and threw it in their direction. It hit the back of one guy’s head, and he looked around puzzled. Daigo just threw another, chuckling as it hit him again. A bit too obvious, as he was spotted this time.

“What the hell’s wrong with you dude?” one of the four cried.

“I dunno,” Daigo said, stuffing a bunch of fries in his mouth before flinging another their way, “Target practise.”

This one hit a guy in a striking red sports jacket right between the eyes, and Daigo could barely contain the full-on cackle he let out at the expression he pulled. It was almost too easy.

He grinned when one came over and jabbed him in the chest.

“Outside. Now.”

“My pleasure.”

He followed them into a nearby side street, hands in his pockets and head held high. He liked an audience sometimes, but a private fight was fine enough.

The biggest one of them threw the first punch. He was expecting it, crossing his arms over in front of his face to block it, before kicking out at the guy’s ankles.

The whole fight was messy. The little gang clearly had never been in a proper fight, had no form. They kept punching poorly, wincing with any that managed to hit as they stung their knuckles.

Not that Daigo was any better. He was still far too drunk, but that was half the fun. Stumbling about and getting in a rough hit that frightened these kids who’d never experienced this before. He just wanted the thrill, the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. Anything to feel something.

Daigo landed a punch on that guy in the sports jacket, right in the middle of his face. It sent him flat on his ass, skidding down the street slightly.

“Come on!” he groaned, “Grab him, idiots! We outnumber him!”

A moment of pause. Daigo tried to catch his breath, but ol’ sports jacket was right. He was outnumbered.

Two of them grabbed his coat and pushed him back against the wall, holding him there. The third punched at his gut, over and over. Daigo gritted his teeth, tensed his stomach for every punch.

He knew he could get out of this, easily. The guys holding him were hardly doing much, weren’t even gripping his actual arms, just the sleeves of his jacket. It wouldn’t take much to duck and slip down, then send them crying home to their mommies.

“Come on!” he hissed, baring his teeth.

But he wanted them to hit him.

“That all you got?”

He wanted them to hurt him.

Sports jacket guy had gotten back on his feet now, face already starting to bruise. His fist met the middle of Daigo’s face hard, harder than they’d been hitting before. It stung, a lot, which is exactly what he wanted.

Not that it solved anything.

It never did.

“Oi!” They all froze, turning toward the entrance of the street. Daigo, semi-dazed, managed to look too, and felt his stomach drop.

Kashiwagi's expression, initially a scowl, changed the moment he saw him, shaking his head and blinking a little. “Daigo?”

He sighed heavily, storming over and waving his hand at the little gang. “Shoo. Don’t let me catch you boys doing shit like this again, you hear?” “Y-yes Patriarch Kashiwagi.”

They scurried off further down the street, leaving Daigo to stand up straighter, rubbing his nose. He groaned a little as he saw the streaks of rusty red on the back of his hand, sniffling heavily. “Great.”

“Daigo…”

Kashiwagi sighed again, rubbing at his temple. “What are you doing?” “I’m just...I’m just out.” Daigo sniffed again, scrunching his nose. “Just finished dinner.”

“You know what I mean…”

Kashiwagi looked around, then grabbed Daigo by the shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s talk in the office.”

Daigo went to argue, but it only took one stern glare, the kind the older man had given him his whole life, for him to clench his jaw and follow.

Kashiwagi led the way toward the Millennium Tower, hand on Daigo’s shoulder the whole way. It felt so patronising, like that time he accidentally broke a window at the Dojima Family offices when he was ten, and Kashiwagi had done the exact same gesture, marching him to his mother.

“Nice upgrade,” he still said, gazing out the wide window of Kashiwagi’s office once they arrived, “From that little place on Tenkaichi.”

“Well, we make do. I’m second in command now.” Kashiwagi set down the plastic convenience store bag he’d been carrying on his desk, letting out a small, bemused exhale of air. “It’s not all bad. Now come on. Why were you fighting?”

Daigo clicked his tongue and shrugged, staring at the blinking lights below them.

“Daigo…” “I just was, okay?”

He gave a dismissive shrug, walking across the floor toward a cabinet, throwing the doors open. Kashiwagi watched him with tired eyes, slumping down in his chair. “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”

“How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”

“Your breath reeks of it, kid. Your whole body does.” He took out a bento and can of coffee from the plastic bag, raising a brow. “And I know what you’re like, especially lately. How’s being a free man by the way? Haven’t seen you since you were released.”

“It sucks ass.”

Daigo slammed the cabinet door shut, opening another and grinning as he saw half a bottle of whiskey there, as well as some crystal glasses. He heard Kashiwagi tut loudly as he slammed both down on top of the cabinet.

“What did you expect?” he scoffed, pouring a very large measure, “Mom told me the news the moment I got out. What Nishikiyama did. That it wasn’t Kiryu. He hasn’t even come to see me, to apologise for it.”

He knocked the glass back, the sensation warm and familiar down his throat. “Hardly feel free. Just not in jail anymore.”

“What happened to the boy I knew?” Kashiwagi asked, walking over and placing a hand on Daigo’s shoulder once more. This time it was gentle, kind, attempting to be comforting. Not Kashiwagi-san, one of his father’s men, but Uncle Osamu, his mother’s best friend.

Daigo scrunched his nose up, taking another slug of whiskey. “You say that like I’ve ever been cheery.”

“Well, okay, you’ve always been a serious young man, but…”

He just shook his head, moving his hand away. He grabbed the whiskey bottle in the process, making Daigo let out a pathetic little whine.

“I’m not going to enable you any more than I have,” he said firmly, before adding, “I mean it though. You don’t need to throw your life away like this.”

Daigo didn’t reply, because he didn’t like the real answer. There wasn’t much of a life to throw away. He was doing everyone a favour with this.

“You bring me up here just to lecture me old man?” he growled, narrowing his eyes.

Still looking for someone to fight. Kashiwagi would wipe the floor with him, he knew that, but he didn’t care. He also knew he wouldn’t get that kind of satisfaction.

Didn’t mean Kashiwagi wasn’t frustrated with his attitude. He closed his eyes, clenching his fists and let out a deep exhale from his nose. “I saw your mother today. She’s been trying to call you all morning.”

“I know.” The empty glass was set down heavily, with a grunt. Daigo dug around for his phone, holding it out so Kashiwagi could see the countless missed calls and texts from her on the home screen. “I know what today is.”

“...and is that why you’re-”

“You know I’m like this anyway.” He stared at the texts, all similar in tone - Daigo, please call me. Daigo, it’s important. Are you okay? He got them most days from his mother. She was trying so hard. He didn’t want her to. He would rather she forget about him. She deserved that much.

Kashiwagi wasn’t looking at him, staring up at the ceiling as he thought of what to say next.

“I understand that...none of us could have predicted the extent of what your father was like.”

Daigo did a double take, noticing Kashiwagi immediately cringe. At least he knew what he said was stupid.

“Sorry, that was-”

“Yeah. It was.” Daigo looked up, head cocked to his shoulder. “Anyone could have guessed, really. We just pretended otherwise, because somehow he seemed to be the only thing keeping the Tojo Clan from completely falling apart.”

He was up in Kashiwagi’s face now, feeling his chest clench tight. He was working himself up over nothing, over that bastard. He hated it, but thinking of what his father did to get himself killed, the kind of man he was, it made his skin crawl.

“He deserves to spend every birthday after what he did having the most miserable time in hell,” he said with a hiss, noticing his voice wobbling, “I know it. You know it. But Mom refuses to let go-”

The slap felt cathartic, for both of them. Daigo shut his eyes and nodded as his cheek stung. He deserved that. He was trying to provoke that kind of reaction and got exactly that.

“I take back what I said. That boy you were is still there. An insolent brat,” Kashiwagi said, walking back to his desk, “Daigo, one day, you’re going to have to grow up. You can’t keep doing this until you die.”

He threw a semi-sympathetic look over his shoulder, but Daigo mostly felt it was piteous. That’s what he was. A pitiful, useless mess.

“Go home, Daigo. Call your mother. And for everyone’s sake, don’t have anything else to drink tonight.”

Daigo sucked in through his teeth and nodded again as he walked toward the door.

“...good night, Kashiwagi-san.”

No response. Yup. I deserve this.

He made his way home in a daze, everything working in automatic. Kashiwagi’s words kept echoing in his head, over and over.

You can’t keep doing this until you die.

Because that’s what he was trying to do, wasn’t it? Die. Suicide by hedonism. He was born already holding the worst hand life could deal, and he was never going to get anything better. After his father was killed, the one tiny scrap of potential good he could have in his life was gone, even if that prospect was a life of crime.

So why not? Why should he grow up when there was nothing to grow up for?

The moment he was inside his apartment, he slid down the door, staring blankly ahead. He’d needed that talking to, he needed a few really, from people who were currently pretending like he didn’t exist. That’s what he really needed. For Kiryu to talk to him, apologise for ruining his life, try and talk some sense into him. He always knew what to do.

But it was like he didn’t exist. Kiryu didn’t care. Kashiwagi tried to care, but knew he was a lost cause. Who did care?

Daigo opened up his phone again, staring at the missed calls and sighed. That’s who cared. Mom.

He should talk to her. He knew he should. He was an awful son who loved his mother very much, which is why he knew she deserved better. She was trying despite knowing she’d made mistakes, but he just couldn’t let that go.

He hovered on her number, ready to press the button to call...but instead he tossed his phone to land on the couch, walked to the kitchen and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the vodka bottle still on the counter.

He licked his lips, swallowed heavily...but let go, pushing it away.

“You win this time old man,” he grumbled, picking up an energy drink and the donuts he’d bought earlier in the day instead. Kashiwagi could never be allowed to know that though.

He knew this self-control wouldn’t last long. Come morning, he’d be shaking again, a hangover banging in his skull, and he’d be dragging himself towards that bottle like it was the source of life.

The same thing every day.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

He couldn’t have it any other way.

[golden-babbles]

A Taste of Strength

Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugo x Fem!Pro Hero!reader

Warnings: Straight up smut. 18+ ONLY!!! Sorta mutual pining, slight voyeurism, oral sex (both male/fem), vaginal fingering, a little body worship, I guess? Muscle kink, unprotected sex, light choking, hair pulling

Summary: You ask Bakugo to help you develop your workout routine. Surprisingly enough, he actually has a flirtatious side to him. And he doesn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by your threats.

Inspiration: Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer, Beast by Mia Martina, You've Seen the Butcher by Deftones (aka snippets of my workout playlist lol)

Word Count: 7k, damn. Got a little carried away here 

A/N: This is my submission for @butterscotchbaku‘s 1k “New Year, New Kink” event! Congrats again, baby. You deserve all the love and kisses. Let's gooooooo. Unintentionally added some good workout advice to this lmao. Might need more editing, I’ll check tomorrow.

Your pencil wiggled back and forth between your fingers as you leaned one elbow against the long conference table, your swivel chair turned to face your boss, who stood at one end of the table with a PowerPoint. You listened to Mirko drone on about recent villain appearances, the importance of avoiding property damage, and some other subjects that you had long tuned out. The lack of new information had you bored, listening to the same spiel you got at the end of every day, and instead you found your mind wandering. 

Your position in the chair behind his allowed you a perfect view of Katsuki Bakugo's toned shoulders and flexed bicep, your eyes tracing the muscle down to where his elbow rested against the table and following his forearm to where his fingers absent-mindedly played with his bottom lip, squeezing and pulling. It seemed to be a habit of his, demonstrating that he had also lost interest, while still quietly listening to what Mirko had to say. 

Your eyes glued to his lips as you watched his movements. They seemed so soft and plush, and you could just imagine them against yours, and pressing into your skin, travelling down your stomach, until-

"Rumble." At the sound of your hero name, your attention snapped back to Mirko briefly, the pencil flung from your hand in surprise. Then your eyes went wide as you saw it lightly smack against Bakugo's cheek before falling to the floor. He turned to growl at you, eyebrows drawn down into a scowl, but was quickly stopped by a quick "Can it, Dynamight," from your boss. 

You looked back to your Mirko and blushed at her knowing gaze. She chose not to call you out on your mental remoteness. "You two have been patrolling together for almost a month now," she gestured between you and Bakugo. "Anything the team should know?" 

You shook your head and Bakugo crossed his arms in irritation as you said, "Our sector's been pretty empty. Just a few petty robbers here and there, but nothing noteworthy." 

Mirko nodded and moved on to the next team's reports. Most were much the same as yours, with a few reporting some suspicious activities that had been passed on to the police force. You continued to watch Bakugo as the meeting went on, secretly pining and plotting ways to get him to spend time with you outside of your job. Your eyes glanced between his biceps and yours and an idea sparks in your mind as the meeting ended and people began to file out until it was just you and Bakugo left in the room, both of you gathering your equally detailed notes. 

"Hey, Bakugo?" He grunted and cut his eyes to yours, and you took it as a signal to continue. "Could I ask you a favor?"

"Depends. What do you want?" He eyes you warily, obviously curious as to what you could possibly want from him. 

"Would you, um, help me with my workouts? I've been trying to get into more weight training, but…" Your hand came up to scratch behind your neck nervously. "I don't really know what I'm doing when it comes to that stuff, and I know you work out a lot, so if you'd be willing, I would love some pointers." You raised your gaze back up to meet his crimson gaze.

He shrugged and went back to gathering his things. "Sure, whatever, I guess." 

You grinned and slung your bag over your shoulder. "Awesome, I'll text you to plan." He grunted again in response, and your grin stayed plastered on your face for the whole walk to your car. 

***

A few days later, you and Bakugo had a day off and had agreed to meet at the agency's gym. You wore a black cropped tank top over your favorite sports bra and short shorts, showing off your body as you walked into the state of the art facility that Mirko had designed herself. You carried your duffel bag to the locker room and deposited it into a locker before heading back out into the gym, assuming you'd find Bakugo near the weightlifting equipment.

It was easy to spot the spiky blonde standing beside a rack full of different free weights, since the gym wasn't very crowded anyway. He looked scrumptious in a black compression tank that showed off the muscles in his chest and abdomen and dark grey shorts that stopped just above his knees, giving you a peak at his well-defined thighs. You had to resist the urge to lick your lips as his head lifted and he noticed you walking toward him.  

You smirked as you watched his eyes widen in surprise, then rake over your exposed skin. Unlike most female heroes, your hero costume was actually quite modest, consisting of black cargo pants and a tight-fitting v-neck muscle tank, along with your support items. It gave you plenty of mobility, an important necessity for your quirk, which allowed you to manipulate any materials derived from earth. You were often compared to the earthbenders from Avatar: The Last Airbender, and you would be lying if you said you hadn't stolen some of your moves from Toph. 

Since your costume kept you so well covered, you realized that this was the first time that Bakugo had ever seen so much of your body, and you could almost swear you saw the tips of his ears flush pink as he turned away from you with a huff. 

"What do you want to start with?" He asked gruffly, opting to face the weight rack instead of facing you. 

"I was thinking I'd like to focus on my arms and shoulders, since that's where most of my focus is when I'm using my quirk." You began to stretch your arms and shoulders as you listened for his response, your music still thumping quietly in one ear. 

"That's fine for today, but your legs are vital too, since they provide the base for your movements. Most of your moves force you to lunge and squat, and sometimes hold those positions, so your leg strength is just as important." He lifted a set of 50 pound dumbbells off the rack and set them aside, presumably for himself, then looked up to meet your wide eyes.

"You really pay that much attention to my moves?" You continued to stretch, but your face showed very clear surprise, and this time you were certain that you saw a blush painted on his cheeks as he turned away from you once more. 

"Yeah, well, you're my partner, so…" he trailed off and your eyebrows creased in confusion as he picked up a pair of 70 pound dumbbells and set them beside the 50s. 

"Okay, I hope those are both for you." You gestured to the two pairs of dumbbells now sitting on the bench and he shook his head. 

"Nope, you're taking the 50s. We're starting with shrugs. I'll show you." He easily lifts the 50 pound weights and hands them off to you, checking to make sure that you have a good grip on them before shifting to your side to teach you the exercise.

"I've done shrugs before, I know how to work my traps." You rolled your eyes, prepared for mansplaining. 

"I'm sure, I just want to make sure that you're doing them correctly, so that you don't hurt yourself." He was surprisingly polite and delightfully physical as he explained how to position your head and neck to avoid strain on your spine. He moved behind you and gripped your biceps as he explained the movement, going over how you should lift your shoulders slowly, squeeze your traps at the top, and then slowly release back to your starting position, bending your arms slightly to counteract your shoulders' forward motion and avoiding rolling your shoulders on the release. 

Your heartbeat quickened as he touched you with calloused hands, and you found it difficult to pay attention to what he was saying, but it seemed that he was satisfied with your performance when he stepped back around your body to face you once more. 

"Got it?" He asked. "Those weights should be just right for you for this, but do you feel any strain in your shoulders?" 

You shook your head. "No, I'm just used to working with low weight, high reps." 

"Low weight, high reps is good for muscular endurance, but high weight, low reps is good for muscular strength. We're focusing on the latter for now." You were shocked at how patient he was being and how he explained things to you so calmly, completely contrary to the Bakugo that you were used to.

"Thanks again for helping me out. I really appreciate it." 

He grunted and his usual scowl returned to his face. "It's nothing."

***

You had been meeting with Bakugo for weight training fairly regularly for a few weeks now, alternating between muscle groups to avoid being too sore on the job and making sure to cover different strength and endurance exercises to optimize your workouts. 

Today, you were finishing up your workout with a set of bench presses, sweat dripping down your forehead as your arms bent, then straightened, your movements growing a little sluggish with exertion. You were glad to have Bakugo standing over you, hands outstretched and ready to catch the bar if your muscles failed you. 

"One more, c'mon. Don't be weak." You scoffed as you pressed out one more rep, then sighed in relief as he helped you guide the bar into the pegs it rested on, taking a few deep breaths as you laid on the bench before you sat up. 

"Weak, my ass. This is the most I've lifted since we started." You grinned to yourself at the accomplishment and stood, coming face to face with a smirking Bakugo. 

"I know that ass isn't weak, we've worked glutes too." You squeaked when his hand tapped your asscheek lightly as he passed you, grabbing more weights to add to the bar. "Don't insult my personal training, I'm the best trainer around."

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at his ever-present arrogance, thinking that you shouldn't be surprised at how cocky and bold he'd been in the few weeks that the two of you had been working out together, surprising you with a flirtatious side that you hadn't expected him to have. He had slowly slipped from gruff and standoffish to flirty and bold.

"Whatever, just lay down and finish this set so I can shower, then  go home and take a bubble bath." You took up the position he had been in earlier, your legs spread and ready to squat, knowing that it would take you more effort to catch the weight that he was lifting. 

This time it was his turn to scoff. "I don't take orders from you, princess." But he hefted the weight bar anyway, and you followed it with a squat as you spotted him, legs straightening when he pressed up. 

"You know, I really don't mind this view." Your eyes darted down to his face, eyebrows narrowing as you glared at him, finding him blatantly staring at your chest as you squatted down again, following the bar. 

"Don't be crass, Katsuki." You chided, and he snickered. 

"I told you, I don't take orders from you." His statement made you roll your eyes, but you said nothing in return. "Anyway, you're lucky you get to shower. Men's showers aren't working right now. Someone punched a hole in the wall and busted one of the pipes or something." 

He easily continued his reps while carrying on a conversation with you and you found yourself frustrated that he didn't seem to be working as hard as you were. You chose to channel your irritation into teasing him, and grinned sadistically at the prospect. 

"Are you sure you aren't the one that punched through the wall?" He scoffed at your question, but didn't seem to have anything to say about it. "Well, that's good to know. I'll be able to take a nice, hot, steamy shower after this, and you're stuck in your sweat until you get home. Sucks to suck." 

He grunted at you as he finished his last rep, and your hands grabbed the bar to help him guide it back onto its pegs. He sat up and swing his left leg over the bench so that he was sitting sideways on the firm cushions, and turned his head to look at you. The smirk on his face let you know to be prepared to roll your eyes. 

"You could always let me join you. There's no one else here but us." His hand stretched out in a sweeping gesture, and your eyes glanced around the gym to see that the two of you were, indeed, the only ones left in the gym. Not necessarily a surprising fact, considering that it was nearing 9 pm. You rolled your eyes anyway. 

"In your dreams, blasty boi." You muttered. 

He held his smirk as you moved to one side of the bar as he took up the other, the two of you removing the weighted plates and returning them to the storage racks. As he walked over to the wall to grab a wipe for the bench, you turned toward the women's locker room and brought your hand up in a wave. 

"G'night, Bakugo." Then you turned to look at him over your shoulder, with hooded eyes and a mocking flirt in your tone. "Join me in the showers if you want a swift kick in the balls." 

You heard him snickering behind you as he wiped off the bench, and you shook your arms out and did some light stretches as you made your way to the locker rooms. 

Once you stepped inside the locker room, you sighed, and smacked your palm to your forehead in frustration. Dammit, y/n, if only you could be bold enough to actually invite him to shower with you. The two of you have been flirting for weeks now, clearly you both want it. Why didn't you take that opportunity? 

You puffed out your cheeks in an exhale as you brought your hand down and moved to the locker you had stuffed your bag into, grabbing your soap and a towel, then making your way to one of the shower stalls. You didn't bother to close the door behind you as you turned the water on and hummed, waiting for it to warm up before you stepped underneath the stream. 

~Bakugo’s POV~

Bakugo watched you walk away as he continued to wipe down the bench, eyes focused on the way your ass filled out your shorts, and watching your calves flex with each step you took. He dropped the wipe he had been using in a trash can as he made his way toward the men's locker room, which was on the same wall as the women's, just a bit further down. 

He contemplated as he went. Was that an invitation? I mean, sure, she said it came with a price, but she didn't seem to be opposed to the idea or anything. After all the flirting she's been sending my way? This thought brought another of his trademark smirks to his lips. Tch, who am I kidding. Of course she'd want to be with me! I'm the best! And so is she. 

Bakugo's pace picked up as he made his decision, quickly grabbing his bag from the locker he had left it in, then making his way into the women's locker room, glancing around the gym once more as he passed through, to make sure that there was no one else around. 

Bakugo looked around as he stepped inside the women’s locker room. He didn’t see you, but he saw your gym bag sprawled across one of the benches, and heard a shower running around the corner. He smirked to himself as he set his bag down beside yours on the bench and kicked his shoes and socks off, then stepped around the corner. 

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you standing naked beneath the stream of water, fingertips massaging shampoo into your hair as you hummed a tune he didn’t recognize, swaying your hips lightly in what was probably a subconscious move, but tantalized him nonetheless. He took a seat on the bench across from the shower and watched you as you turned to face the showerhead, and his eyes snapped downward, focusing on the curve of  your ass and reveling in the fact that he had helped to develop those delicious glutes. A tent was just beginning to form in his shorts when you turned back around, opening your eyes and bending to reach for a bottle on the floor. 

Your eyes snapped to his and you froze, staring at him.

~Your POV~

Your hands scrubbed shampoo into a lather in your hair as you continued to hum, eyes closed and hips swaying along to the beat in your head. The water had warmed up to a heat that was just barely comfortable, steaming around you and relaxing your thoroughly worked muscles. When you turned to rinse the shampoo from your hair, you let your mind wander as the steam wrapped around you like a blanket, imagining Bakugo's hands over your hips as you danced along to the song that had been stuck in your head all day.

Once you had washed away all of the shampoo, you turned back toward the opening of the stall to reach for your conditioner, but froze when your eyes landed on Bakugo, sitting on a bench across from your shower, fully clothed with his arms crossed and that damned smirk on his face. You stayed frozen, hand outstretched for the forgotten bottle, for what could have been seconds or hours, you really weren't sure, before Bakugo finally spoke up. 

"Well, I believe you owe me a swift kick in the balls." You watched him kick off his tennis shoes and toe off his socks before he stood and stalked toward you. "Or were you just trying to hide the fact that you actually wanted me to join you?" He stopped a few feet from the stall, and you sucked in a breath as you regained your composure and narrowed your eyes in a glare. 

"No. Get the fuck out." You crossed your arms over your chest and cocked a hip to one side, standing firmly and trying to project confidence, though your thighs squeezed together at the thought of the fantasies you had just been daydreaming about coming true. "How long have you been there anyways?"

"Just long enough to enjoy the show. No to the kick to the balls or no you don't want me to join you?" He pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the side, revealing his perfectly toned chest and abs, glistening with sweat from your workout. You were forced to swallow as your eyes raked over his exposed torso, and you struggled to retain your resolve not to fuck him right here on the shower floor. 

"Um…" was all that you managed to get out, eyes glued to the way his chest rose and fall with each even breath. 

He propped one hand against the edge of the shower stall, leaning against it as he looked into your eyes.

"Tell me you want me to go, and I'll go." Then he reached out to grip your chin in his thumb and forefinger. "But tell me to stay and I'll fuck you so hard, you'll need that bubble bath when you get home." 

You whimpered as he finished the statement, feeling the last of your resolve melt away. 

"Well?" He asked, leaning his face in closer to yours. "What'll it be?" 

"S-stay." You whispered, not nearly loud enough to be heard over the running water. 

"Hmm? What was that, dumbass?" He teased, fingers tracing along your jaw. 

"Stay, please." You managed to blurt it out at an audible volume this time, and he groaned in response, stepping in close to you with one hand gripping your hip and the other moving to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck as his lips crashed against yours. 

You moaned into his mouth and brought your arms up to wrap around his neck. He took the opportunity to tangle his tongue with yours, claiming your mouth in a burning, desperate kiss. 

His hands come up to squeeze your ass, then he pulls back, standing just outside the stream of water from the showerhead. He presses one hand to your shoulder, forcing you to step back until your back is against the stall. He stares into your eyes as he tears off his shorts and boxers, tossing them aside and giving you only a moment to widen your eyes at his hard cock before his mouth is on yours once more.

“Jump.” He commands and you don’t hesitate, hopping up to wrap your legs around his waist. He groaned as the muscles in your thighs flexed against his skin, your now-dripping cunt pressed against his abs.

Now that he stood fully naked, you tightened your arms around his neck and pressed your lips against his once more, your tongues fighting for dominance. You retained the death grip that your thighs held on his waist when he stepped away from the shower wall, your back becoming cold for just a moment before he stepped through the water and placed you against a new wall. This time it was the tile wall that the showerhead rested in, allowing the steaming water to pour over his back and your legs as you continued to make out.

He pulled back when he felt you smile against his lips and stared at your upturned lips as he asked, "What's so funny?" 

Your smile widened and you fought back a giggle. 

"I'm not laughing, Katsuki. I'm happy."

His nose scrunched up in an adorably irritated way. "Why are you smiling like that?" 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Just kiss me, dumbass.”

He growled and you gasped as his hands slid from your ass to your thighs. “Stand up.”

You let your legs drop from his waist one at a time, until your feet were planted firmly on the ground and you felt his hands slide up to grip your waist. Your lips were captured in another searing kiss, then Bakugo’s teeth bit lightly into your bottom lip, tugging gently as he pulled away and then released it. He tilted his head to the side and leaned into your neck, licking a stripe along your jugular before nipping at the sensitive spot just below your ear. You moaned and tilted your head back against the wall, squeezing your eyes shut as Bakugo continued to kiss his way downward. He planted kisses on your breasts and ghosted his breath over your nipples, moving further down your body to kiss your ribs and your stomach. His lips moved to your hips and then he was kneeling on the tiled floor and pressing his nose to your mound as his tongue darted out to press against your clit. 

You gasped aloud, hips rising to meet his face as his tongue lapped at your folds. Your hands came up to thread through his soaked blonde locks, gripping tightly to ground yourself. You felt more than heard him groan at your actions as he continued his ministrations.

~Bakugo’s POV~

Bakugo groaned as your strong fingers pulled on his hair, and his fingers moved to wander across your thighs, digging into the hard muscle there. His lips traveled down the inside of one of your thighs, kissing and sucking on the muscles he found there. He groaned against your thigh.

“I love these legs. The muscles that we worked so hard for.” He nipped playfully at the skin just inside your knee, and your thigh flexed at the action.

“Hey, the muscles that I worked so hard for. All you did was yell at me.” You pouted adorably down at him. 

He chuckled and leaned into your other thigh, again alternating between kissing, sucking, and biting. Your thighs flexed with each movement, and it made him sigh against you, reveling in the hard muscle that he had helped cultivate. He loved the feel of your thighs, loved knowing that you may be the only woman that could almost match him physically, and that he had helped get you to that level. 

One of his hands moved down to squeeze at your well-defined calf, fingertips digging into the flesh slightly before he tugged it gently, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder as his mouth began to travel back up your thighs, right where you wanted him. His breath made you shudder, just before his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. 

You moaned loudly, and the sound was like music to his ears. Bakugo’s tongue darted out and laved over your cunt, prodding gently at your entrance before his fingers reached up to take its place. His index finger slid over your folds, gathering the wetness there before pressing into you slowly, earning another moan from you as his finger slipped into your tight heat. You groaned when he wiggled his finger inside of you teasingly, and he smirked against you. 

His free hand roamed up your thigh to clutch your ass, squeezing the muscles there and causing him to release a groan as he appreciated the firm curve of each cheek. 

“Love feeling these muscles flexing when I touch you. Keep doing that.” He growled against your skin, which made you shudder.

~Your POV~

“Don’t give me ord-” you tried to snap back at him, but your words were cut off abruptly when he pushed another finger inside of you, now thrusting lightly and scissoring them apart as he went. 

“Don’t try and start a fight you can’t finish, dumbass.” He snarked and smiled against you, squeezing your ass again as his tongue now focused fully on you, his mouth and hands working together perfectly to push you toward the edge until you felt a coil begin to tighten in your stomach. 

“Fuck, Katsuki. I’m close.” You breathed out, fingers grasping his hair in a grip that you were sure must hurt, but he didn’t complain. 

“Let go, babe. I want to feel your muscles flex and clench as you come undone around me.” 

His words pushed you over the edge and the coil snapped in your stomach, forcing you to release a loud moan that turned into a whine as you rode out your high, grinding your hips on his fingers and tongue. He continued to focus his attention on your cunt as your muscles flexed and clenched around him. The leg over his shoulder pulled him closer, bending at the knee with your calf flush against his back. He groaned against you before pulling back to look up at you. 

“Keep that up and I won’t want to come up from here.” His hand came up to the knee on his shoulder to clarify what he meant. 

You looked down at him and raised an eyebrow as you panted and attempted to get your body under your own control. “Who said I wanted you to come up from there?”

You sighed and released your hold on his hair, then pulled your leg slowly off of his shoulder, your knees a bit wobbly after the orgasm he’d just given you. You noticed his eyes fixated on your legs as you stepped around him to stand under the steaming water, giving yourself a chance to take a breather and process that your coworker had just eaten you out. You decided not to overthink it for a moment and turned back to face him. He stood and looked down at you with a smirk. 

 “So good you need a breather?” He teased.

“Cocky bastard.” You scoffed at him and playfully punched him in the stomach, accidentally hitting him a little harder than you intended and eliciting a grunt from him. 

He grabs the fist that hit him and yanks you closer. “Trying to get feisty now, huh?” 

You watch his gaze travel further up your arms, fingers tracing ever so lightly over your forearms before reaching up to grasp your biceps, squeezing them slightly and using his thumbs to draw small circles on the insides of your arms. 

You cock an eyebrow at him, surprised at the sweet action. “Going soft on me, are you?”

“Shut up and let me look at you.” He growled between clenched teeth, openly admiring the muscle in your arms and leaning down to nuzzle against your shoulders before biting down on your trap. You groaned and let your head fall back, further exposing your neck to him. He continued to cover your neck and shoulders in kisses and love bites as his hands travelled downward to grab at your ass, kneading the muscle there and groaning against your neck. 

“Your body is so perfect for me, baby. All the curves in all the right places. Do you have any idea what a fucking tease its been working out with you these past few weeks? Watching all that muscles work and flex. Hard to spot you when all I can focus on is how those muscles would feel beneath my fingers, or wrapped around me. This is all my favorite fantasies come true.” He released his grip on your ass, leaving a light slap before gripping you by the waist. “And I haven’t even gotten to explore all of them yet.”

You blushed, his praises making you unexpectedly bashful, but pushed through the embarrassment. “Look in the damn mirror, Katsuki. You think it hasn’t been just as torturous for me? Fuck. I didn’t just ask for your help because I needed workout advice. It’s definitely been a treat to watch you work.” Your ran your fingers lightly over his biceps. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like all the extra touching when you’re teaching me new exercises. Doesn’t quite compare to this, though.”

You used your grip on his biceps to push him back against the wall, so that the two of you were once again standing just outside the stream of steaming water. Your hands moved to graze over his chest and you kept your eyes locked on his with a sultry gaze as your fingertips brushed over his pecs, flicking lightly over his nipples and watching the grimace form on his face. His eyes burned into yours like fire, reminding you of his explosions. 

You let your fingers continue their journey south, teasing each of his abs and tracing over the delicious lines on his hips before reaching down to grab his thick cock firmly in one hand. You pumped it a few times and he growled low, a hand coming up to snake around your neck just tight enough for him to pull you into another searing kiss. Your hand twisted and continued to pump over his cock, thumb swiping over the tip to collect the precum gathered there. 

His mouth was blazing on yours, using his tongue and teeth in an aggressive fight for dominance. He tugged your bottom lip between his teeth and pulled lightly, releasing it when he pulled away entirely to look into your eyes. His grip tightened on your neck just a little bit, fingers squeezing on the sides, and your hand stuttered on his cock in surprise.

His dark garnet eyes bored into yours and you could swear that you saw sparks hidden there as he glanced over your face, probably looking for any signs of discomfort. “This okay?” His voice came out dark and gravelly.

You nodded slightly, letting out a quiet, “Mhmm,” as your hand resumed its movement, flicking your wrist as you pumped his cock. 

“Good.” He grumbled, the hand on your neck pushing you backwards a bit before lowering, forcing you to kneel on the tile beneath him, now face to face with the cock that you had spent hours of sweaty workouts fantasizing over. 

The hand wrapped around his length moved down to the base, making room for your mouth as you leaned down to wrap your lips around the tip, tongue darting out to stroke over the slit. You moaned at the taste of his pre on your tongue, the salty flavor egging you on as you took your time adjusting to the feeling of his cock in your mouth. It was difficult to get used to the thickness at first, but you were making headway and starting to push down further when suddenly, Bakugo’s hand tangled in your hair and forced your head further. Your throat contracted around him as you gagged and he moaned loudly, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls. 

When his hand relaxed, you pulled back, coughing and taking a moment to catch your breath, glaring up at him as you did. 

He smirked down at you. “What? is my fat cock too much for you to handle?”

You scoffed. “Hardly.” 

To prove your point, you let your tongue loll out and wrapped your lips around him once more, bobbing your head down low and using your hand to stroke what you couldn't take into your mouth. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you moved slowly, using your tongue to stroke against every prominent vein and flick over the tip when you came up. 

Bakugo watched you with clouded eyes, grunting and groaning at your attention. His fingers clenched and flexed, massaging your scalp and encouraging you to keep going. 

His hips began to move with you, fucking into your mouth, and you struggled to keep up with him, taking in as much as you could while using your tongue to stroke the underside of his cock. Tears streamed down your face and your throat began to burn with the struggle of keeping up with him, but you were definitely not going to complain. Not with his thighs flexing under the deathgrip your fingers had on them. Not when his moans were echoing throughout the locker room.

Suddenly, his grip tightened on your hair, and he pulled you off his cock with a wet pop, and continued pulling until you had to clamber to your feet, glaring into his eyes when you finally stood face to face with him.

“If my head is sore tomorrow because of you, I swear the first thing I’ll do when I wake up in the morning is punch you in the balls.” You growled at him, frustrated that he couldn’t just tell you to stand up, but turned on by the rough treatment nonetheless. 

“Mm, sure. You’ve been all bark and no bite lately.” He smirked at you, likely recalling your threat from earlier that you had failed to follow through on. 

Your eyes narrowed and you felt a sudden urge to follow through with your threat, your knee swinging up toward his crotch. He saw it coming though, and used his grip on your hair to spin you around and pull your back flush against his chest before you could do any damage.

His other hand came up to wrap around your throat, resuming its tight grip and making you a little bit dizzy. He pulled your head to the side with his grip on your hair and leaned down until his lips brushed against your ear as he snarled. “If you want to fight, we can fight, but I will win.” he blew lightly on your ear and ground his hips into yours, pressing his erection up between your asscheeks. “Can’t we just get along for now? I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” He trilled teasingly. 

You growled at him, but didn’t resist, let him hold you in place. 

“Good girl.” His grip on your throat and in your hair loosened, and he turned you around to face him, claiming your lips once more as his hands reached down to grip the backs of your thighs. Taking his cue, you jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He held tight to your thighs as he turned and pressed your back against the wall and latched his teeth onto your neck. 

You relaxed back into the wall with a moan, but kept your thighs wrapped tightly around his waist, to keep from falling as you felt him align himself with your entrance. 

“Hold on, babe, I’m not gonna take this slow.” His mouth attached to yours once more, muffling your moans as he pushed inside of you. You gasped against his lips, feeling a slight burn in your muscles as the tip pushed into your entrance. True to his word, he didn’t start off slow, instead simply thrusting  his hips forward until he was fully sheathed inside of you. Your moans were lost in Bakugo’s lips as he kissed you, giving you a few seconds to adjust before he started thrusting in earnest, forcing you to wrap your arms tighter around his neck and clench your thighs tighter around him as he pounded you into the wall. 

The two of you got lost in each other’s mouths as you chased your own highs, your hips doing their best to meet his thrusts as he continued at a bruising pace, keeping the tight grip on your thighs that was sure to bruise. 

When he adjusted his position to thrust against a particular spot inside of you, you had to pull away from his mouth with a gasp, squeaking out a breathy, “Th- there!”

He chuckled and leaned his head into your neck, continuing to thrust into the spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten once again and knew that you were getting close. What you hadn’t expected, though, was that Bakugo would choose that moment to bite down hard on your trap. 

All at once, you felt your orgasm tear through you, a scream ripping from your lungs just before a hand came up to slap over your mouth. Your muscles spasmed as you came around his cock, struggling to suck air into your lungs as your walls fluttered around Bakugo’s cock. 

When his mouth released your shoulder, you heard him utter a gravelly, “Fuck,” before he was cumming too, cock twitching and releasing hot ropes of cum in your cunt as he moaned out your name. 

He stilled, holding onto you as the two of you panted, and you leaned your head down to rest on his shoulder. The two of you struggled to catch your breath as you came down, and eventually he released his grip on your thighs, strong hands moving up to your waist to lift you off of his cock and set you gingerly down on the ground. 

“Can you stand alright?” His gaze was surprisingly gentle now as you looked into his eyes and nodded hesitantly, stretching your legs out to get feeling back in your wobbling knees. He held onto your waist, not entirely confident in your answer, but you swatted him off. 

To prove your point, you took a few slow, tentative steps forward, standing beneath the water of the still-running shower to rinse the newly formed sweat from your skin. 

After giving you a moment to rinse yourself, Bakugo stepped under the water with you, slotting himself behind you and kissing the newly formed mark on your shoulder. The soft move shocked you, and you turned your head to cock an eyebrow at him. 

When your eyes met his, he scowled. “What’s that skeptical look for?”

“You goin’ soft on me?” You toned teasingly. 

He grunted. “No way, dumbass.” But he held you gently, running his fingers through your hair and taking some time to softly untangle the knots that he created before reaching down to pick up your body wash. 

Again, you eyed him skeptically. “What are you doing?” 

He popped the bottle open and poured some of the soap onto his hands before setting it back down on the ground. “We both need to get clean, don’t we?” 

You were sure that had had some snarky response on your tongue, but it left you all at once when his hands began to massage your shoulders, lathering soap over your arms and back. Your eyes dropped shut as you relaxed into his touch, sighing when he grabbed more to clean off your chest and stomach. 

“When we get back to my place, we’ll get you that bubble bath that you wanted.” 

This statement made your eyes snap open and you turned around to face him. “Who said I was going back to your place?”

“I did. Just now.” He smirked at you, daring you to challenge him. 

You wanted to pick a fight, you really did. But the idea of relaxing back against those firm pecs in a warm bubble bath while his strong hands massaged your body had you relenting. 

“Fine. But you’re making me breakfast.” 

His smirk widened and his eyes sparked with a challenge. You knew his next words would have you punching him in the shoulder. “Who said you could stay over? I only offered a bath.” 

You hoped the fist that connected with his shoulder left a bruise tomorrow.

[beauty-brains-and-booty]

Obligatory “I’m back” post but trying something different.

I’ve been hovering around 145 lbs for the past several months. After going from 179 to 136, not consistently working out/eating well has me between 143 and 147 at any given time. Some of you may know I’ve been on and off the horse for YEARS, but I’ve always been doing the same thing: 25-45 minutes of cardio and moderate resistance weight training for workouts, and [trying to] eat at a caloric deficit, but always struggling to stick with it all, even doing things the right and healthy way.

My ultimate plan has always been lose some weight/fat, then once I lean out a little bit, work on building muscle to get my “perfect body,” whatever that is. Well, since I know that in the end I want to build muscle and get strong anyway, why not make that my first focus? I know they always say it’s better to do it this way because more muscle = higher metabolism/more fat burn, but in addition to that I just feel like this may work better for me. I definitely need to work on self-discipline, but I really enjoy lifting weights, NOT being in a caloric deficit 😂, and feel like even if I gain some fat/weight in the process, seeing how much stronger I get will help with loving the body I have while I continue to work on improving it and what I can do.

SO. That’s my new fitness focus: lifting heavy (3-4 days a week to start) and eating at a small surplus to build muscle and get/feel stronger.

[roselen-mylady]

In Another Life

Bucky Barnes x reader ° part ten

Summary: Waiting 88 years to find your soulmate? It was cruel. But it was a cruel fate Bucky would have to face whether he accepted it or not. Bucky was a tortured man all his life and he wasn't even granted the solace of having his soulmate at his side. All he had was the promise of one in another life. They were separated by two different times.

But the pain in their lives were connected.

Y/n had been alone ever since she could remember. All she could depend on was the soulmate that was destined to be at her side. Yet when the snap occurred she lost him.

And Bucky never got to meet her.

Though Steve showed no signs of leaving or the anger Y/n had feared, she still felt the anxiety that came from revealing her true past. He was supportive, as he always was and so was everyone else once they were told. Tony only had a mere, 'I knew it' to add to the subject and while Y/n was touched, she couldn't help the array of things she felt. 

Foolish was one of them. Hiding her past from them before was stupid but Steve insisted that her going underground was probably best since HYDRA would've searched for her. While that brought her some solace she was still uncomfortable with the idea of becoming more involved. Something always went wrong and Nat was proof. 

She missed her friend badly and Y/n couldn't help but feel it was her own cursed luck that had taken Nat. It was ridiculous to think that she could ever be happy. Stupid to think she could help her friends bring back everyone. Stupid to think she might actually meet her soulmate.  

"Hey, kid. We're going to put the stones together." Tony cut into Y/n's racing thoughts. Her gaze lifted from the drawing Steve had given her, settling on Tony as he leaned in through the doorway. 

She didn't know why she was still looking at the picture or why she had even accepted it. She wanted to believe she was still furious, still resentful. Wanted to force all the pain and guilt she felt into him once more. But in all reality she was just so lost. For years she pretended to be someone else and now that she was free to be the girl she once was, she didn't even remember who that was. 

A genius? A hero? A terrified little orphan? She had no idea but she didn't want to be any. She wanted to be Y/n, a friend and a psychiatrist. She now understood why Steve wanted her around. He needed someone to remind him of who he was, who he truly was. 

Was James that person once? 

Was that why she found herself gazing at the sketch, hoping for a split second that maybe she could go back to the moment that was drawn? Praying to go back to a time where James Barnes was fighting for his past and his own will. A time where he might comfort her like he did Steve over the death of Nat. A time where his thoughts were his own and so we're his actions. 

Y/m almost hated herself for despising him. Though she knew there was still much to his story she was too scared to ask, she knew he was nothing more than a tortured soul with a gun. She couldn't figure out how the man in the drawing was the same man who'd nearly killed her. 

It wasn't.  

Noticing her broken expression, Tony hesitantly stepped into the room coming to sit with her. Her fingers gently held the page and he looked down at it, recognizing the face instantly. It sent a chill through his spine, seeing the same face almost ripped the arc reactor straight from his chest. 

It had taken him years to forgive Steve but he still struggled to do the same with the man who murdered his parents in cold blood. All the hatred toward his parents' assassin had gone unresolved since Steve and Bucky left him at that frozen HYDRA base. And once forgiving Steve, Tony had no other outlet and he found it difficult to sit there with the picture.

So he tried to focus on something else.  

"So, you and Ms. Romanoff were close?" He mumbled trying poorly to begin consoling her. She nodded numbly, folding the paper and setting it aside. 

The emotions she felt were mixed and intense making it hard for her to filter through her feelings but one surfaced more than others. Guilt. 

"Ever since the snap." She replied, her shoulders slack. Tony and Nat had their own relationship, one much older than her own but they'd been apart for so long. Ever since Nat went off the grid with Steve and even after the snap when he distanced himself from all of them, they hardly interacted. But they were friends. The type of friends that wouldn't be parted even by death. 

"Do you think things would be different if I hadn't showed up?" Y/n asked him suddenly. He looked over at her studying her guilt ridden eyes that she kept trained on the floor. It was a familiar look, one he wore often. But not one he wanted her to. 

"Natasha wasn't the type of person to let anyone dictate her choices. I think she was ready to give her life for a cause and none of us could've stopped her." Tony sighed, the weight of her death finally reaching its max. "Not even a couple of geniuses." 

•••

"Let's hope this doesn't blow up." Tony mumbled next to her. The small group consisting of them with the addition of Bruce and Rocket stood in the lab, waiting in anticipation as Tony carefully placed the stones in the gauntlet. With his shaking hands it was difficult to be precise while he manipulated the machine but he managed to place all six stones in their respective places. They held their breath unsure if the stones would react or blow up the lab as Tony feared.  

"Boom!" Rocket yelled suddenly making all of them flinch. He began to laugh loudly and they all turned to him with annoyed looks. Y/n slapped the back of his head, cutting his laughing short as she walked off trying to ignore the trembling in her legs. Tony muttered something under his breath moving to bring the gauntlet to a more accessible area for the wearer. 

"You're an asshole." Y/n groaned. Tony walked past them, putting the gauntlet on a display table that made it hover a couple inches above. 

"Come on, it was funny!" Rocket argued, earning an unamused stare from both Tony and Y/n. 

It took a few minutes for Bruce to collect everyone but eventually everyone was gathered around the gauntlet. Most had expressions Y/n familiarized with PTSD and once following their gazes she realized their experience with the gauntlet Thanos wore was resurfacing. 

Hopefully, with the new one they'd be able to reverse what he'd done. But the trauma would stay. That she knew. 

"All right. The glove's ready. Question is, who's gonna snap their fucking fingers?" Rocket questioned, looking up at the group. Their options were limited since most people in the room were only human, even Steve. 

"I'll do it." Thor volunteered without hesitation. He drunkenly stepped forward making everyone turn to him with confused and reluctant looks. Their choices were limited but they weren't desperate enough to put such a powerful object on a drunk god.  

"Excuse me?" Scott asked, glancing around at the others for one of them to tell Thor what a bad idea it was. 

"It's okay." Thor insisted, marching forward with a purpose. Steve moved to stop him with the help of Tony making the poor large man pause. 

"No, no, no, whoa. Stop. Stop. Wait a sec. Hey, hey–" Everyone was a mess of refusal and Thor's face turned hurt as he tried to continue. 

"Wait, wait, Thor, just wait. We haven't decided who's gonna put that on yet." Steve explained. Thor shifted on his feet, clearly upset with their rejection.  

"I'm sorry. What, we're just sitting around waiting for the right opportunity?" He asked,

annoyed. Scott looked to Y/n hoping she might use some of her 'therapist powers' he called them after realizing she really couldn't read minds. 

"We should at least discuss it." Y/n tried to reason. Thor shook his head stubbornly, swaying unsteadily on his feet. 

"No, no, sitting here staring at that thing is not gonna bring everybody back. I'm the strongest Avenger, okay? So this responsibility falls upon me. It's my duty." He told them, gesturing to the gauntlet then himself. 

"It's not about that–" Tony told him gently, coming to stand in front of him as he started to move Thor back. Thor resisted but was unsuccessful as he started to grow emotional. "Hey buddy-" Tony tried again only to be cut short by Thor frantically shushing him and everyone else. 

"Stop it! Just let me! Just let me do it. Just let me do something good. Something right." Thor begged, tears filling his eyes. He was desperate to prove he was worthy, to prove he could still be the hero he once was. 

"Look– It's not just the fact that that glove is channeling enough energy to light up a continent, I'm telling you, you're in no condition." Tony fought. There was no way they were going to let him hold the fate of the world in his hand while he was drunk. Even the Thor he was years ago shouldn't have held that kind of power, it was too risky. 

"What do you– What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?" Thor asked, his eyes studying Tony's for any kind of hope that might tell him they would let him make the sacrifice. 

"Cheez Whiz?" Rhodey scoffed, earning a glare from Y/n. Thor looked over at Rhodey pointing a shaky finger at him as he tried not to cry in frustration. He held onto Tony, grasping at his shoulders and prying Tony's attention away from Rhodey's comment. 

"Lightning." Thor corrected, looking back to Tony with pleading eyes. Tony nodded but he knew he couldn't allow Thor to wear the gauntlet. "Lightning." Thor repeated, distraught but Tony's reaction. 

"Lightning won't help you, pal. It's gotta be me." Bruce announced suddenly. Thor shook his head letting go of Tony. "You saw what those stones did to Thanos. It almost killed him. None of you could survive." Bruce explained. 

"How do we know you will?" Steve questioned as Bruce paced over to the gauntlet. 

"We don't. But the radiation's mostly gamma. It's like...I was made for this." Bruce mumbled. He gazed intensely at the stones, silently calculating his odds. If the Hulk couldn't handle this, was this really how he was going to die? And if so would it even work? 

They looked at each other knowing it was their best chance at bringing them back. They had to take it. 

Tony stepped forward, grabbing the gauntlet and handing it to Bruce as they headed to a more secure part of the lab. 

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Y/n asked Bruce quietly. She knew how Nat's death had affected him and she refused to make the same mistake with him. 

"Yes. We have to finish this." He declared. Y/n watched as he paced forward to catch up with Tony as she lagged behind to Steve. 

"Do you think this will work?" Steve questioned. Y/n chewed her lip anxiously, focusing her stare at the gauntlet as Steve came to stand beside her. 

"Bruce's gamma radiation is stronger and most equipped to handle the energy but it's still dangerous. The stones are too powerful together, I didn't think they were ever really meant to be used together." She sighed, hating the sacrifices that came with saving the world. If they lost someone else just for this to not work was it really even worth trying? 

"Bruce is strong." Steve tried to ease her worry but it wasn't enough. 

"I know. I just-I can't keep losing people, Steve. It's like a curse. Every time I try to do something good…-" 

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You're not gonna lose anyone else. Not on my watch." Steve promised but both of them knew it was practically empty. There was no guarantee. "Let's just bring everyone back." 

Y/n tried to smile but like his promise it was hollow. "Yeah, okay." 

"Good to go, yeah?" Tony questioned as Bruce carefully held the piece in his large hands. He seemed anxious but who wouldn't be in that situation. 

"Let's do it." He confirmed as Y/n and Steve returned to the group. She walked around him, stopping beside Tony and sharing a steady nod. 

"You remember–everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago, you're just bringing them back to now, today. Don't change anything from the last five years." Tony told him seriously.

"Got it." Bruce assured. Then suddenly the room grew quiet and a tenseness settled in the air that Y/n was too amazed to catch onto. For the first time she realized she was living the dream of millions of people. Everyone had readied themselves and Y/n watched as they stood there in their superhero uniforms, the power and determination they all had washing over her. 

Tony pressed his chest allowing his suit to expand and morph to his body, a shield lighting up before him. His stare then drifted to Y/n who still stood there in her casual clothes, watching them all confused and out of place. Why were they getting ready now? They were doing this here? 

"Hey, kiddo. Come on." Tony urged, motioning to her earpiece. She gave a soft 'oh' mimicking him as she pressed the button making her own suit appear. A shield of her own design came to her forearm and Tony eyed it curiously. 

"Did you mess with the suit?" He asked, the seriousness in his tone startling her a bit. She shrugged, looking at him defensively. 

"Yeah, you said it was just a prototype so I fixed it a bit." She explained. He looked away, grateful she couldn't see the entertained smirk on his lips as he turned back to Bruce. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., do me a favor and activate Barn Door Protocol. Will you?" Tony called. Y/n had gotten used to the suit during the time she could spare to examine it and she put 70% power into the armor, figuring if something did go wrong it probably wouldn't hurt to be a little more protected. 

"Yes, boss." F.R.I.D.A.Y replied. Metal doors began to close off the lab as the compound went into lockdown and if the seriousness of the situation hadn't set in yet it definitely did then as Y/n widened her stance to try and brace herself. 

"Everybody comes home." Bruce reminded himself, cautiously reaching his hand into the gauntlet. The gauntlet expanded to fit his hand thanks to Tony's nanotech but as soon as it was fully on the power of the stones surged through him. He grunted in pain collapsing to his knees as the energy began to burn into his arm. 

"Take it off! Take it off!" Thor cried, waving his hands as Bruce shakily held the gauntlet. Steve stepped forward, keeping anyone from acting. 

"No, wait. Bruce, are you okay?" Steve questioned. He knew more than anyone that just because something was painful didn't mean they couldn't do it. 

"Talk to me, Banner." Tony called, becoming more concerned with each unresponsive moment. Y/n started moving to help but froze as Bruce looked up at them.  

"I'm okay. I'm okay." He insisted. They eased up a little and everyone watched carefully as he tried to regain control of the stones. Thor gave a double thumbs up, watching the scene before him with an astounded expression. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y what are his vitals?" Y/n questioned anxiously. Charts bloomed around Bruce and she quickly read them realizing his heart rate was dangerously high. In fact everything was high, his blood pressure, his respiration rate, even his body temperature had increased. Bruce screamed again, fighting the instinct to remove the gauntlet from the overwhelming pain it caused him as he lined up his fingers. 

The world seemed to stop at the echoing of the snap, the fated sound she'd only heard about for five years finally filling her head the same way it had for the others. 

He fainted and the gauntlet fell off his arm, clattering on the floor before Clint quickly kicked it away from him. 

"Bruce!" Steve called, kneeling beside him as the others rushed forward to check on him. Y/n tugged the remains of his sleeve back gently as Tony kneeled beside her, holding up his hand. 

"Don't move him." Tony demanded, applying a coolant spray from his fingertips over Bruce's arm. Bruce groaned, reaching out and grabbing Steve's arm urgently. 

"Did it work?" He questioned breathlessly, keeping his large hand tight around Steve's arm. Thor gave him a reassuring smile while Y/n looked over the damage of his arm. 

"We're not sure. It's okay." Thor soothed, his voice hopeful as he turned his gaze toward the door where the lab was starting to open up again. Scott walked off to the now open area and some of the others spread out to see what had happened but Y/n stayed at Bruce's side. 

"You did great, Bruce." She told him, giving him a smile to which he returned, though it was a bit more pained. A muted vibrating came from the table on the other side of the room and Y/n turned to see Clint walking over to it almost numb. 

Did it work? 

"Honey? Honey." Clint spoke, his voice quivering in joy as Y/n looked at Tony. They shared a wide eyed glance, both rattled by the idea that they might have actually won. 

Y/n wished to look at her wrist, praying that the countdown she had before the snap returned. She couldn't even remember how many days it had read back then but it didn't matter anymore. She just wanted to meet her soulmate. Would he be looking for her?  

Were his eyes really blue? 

But their victory couldn't last long and Y/n knew that as she followed Bruce's gaze to the skylight above them. There flying menacingly above the compound was the biggest spacecraft she had ever seen and dread instantly set in upon seeing the missile coming their way. 

"Look out!" Y/n screamed, trying to warn the others but it was too late. Her helmet quickly came forward along with her shield which she tried desperately to put over Bruce's head, protecting her and him from falling debris. But the roof wasn't the only thing falling apart. 

The floor split and some of the group fell into the large hole while Y/n struggled to regain her balance. She quickly looked around her, catching sight of Steve sliding across the floor toward the hole. Using the thrusters, she launched forward, grabbing hold of one of the straps to his uniform and dragging him back toward Tony. 

The building was falling down around them and any means of escape were closing off faster than she could find them. Steve managed to climb to his feet again but before either of them could come up with a plan a large piece of the roof fell, striking Y/n down. She cried out falling through the floor to the room below, getting pinned on her stomach under the roofing. 

"Y/n!" Steve yelled, peering down into the hole. Y/n gasped, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Tony looked down too, the two men struggling to keep themselves up as they waited anxiously for her to speak. 

"Minimal damage to prototype armor." F.R.I.D.A.Y announced making Y/n groan. She slowly lifted herself up using her back to push off the rumble before leaning back on her knees, panting slightly. 

"You call that minimal?" She questioned, annoyed. Tony chuckled through the headset, her reply giving him a little relief knowing she was alright.  

"The suits can handle more than we can, kid." He explained. Y/n grumbled, climbing to her feet. She didn't care how durable the suit was, she was still very much human inside the metal and every hit the suit felt, she did too. 

"Are you okay?" Steve called, leaning closer to the edge of the hole. Tony put a hand on his chest, keeping him from falling in while Y/n slowly climbed to her feet. 

"Yeah. I'm fine, Steve." She waved her hand pretending to be nonchalant before coughing from how forcefully her lungs had been emptied. They were about to attempt to go down to her when the floor they were on shifted and Steve fell over, sliding off to another part in the lab. 

"Cap!" Tony called, trying to reach out and catch him. Steve called back that he would be alright giving Tony a little assurance as he turned his gaze back to Y/n. "This building is falling apart!" He called down to her. 

"What do you want me to do?" She asked, looking around at the floor around her. She had landed in the living room area, one of her favorite places but like the rest of the facility it was falling to ruin. 

"Find the stones. We can't risk losing them." Tony instructed. Y/n let out a short sigh, the weight of the task making her stomach turn. 

"Is it too late to go home?" She joked. Tony smiled softly unbeknownst to Y/n. The building shook again with another hit and he knew he wouldn't have long to talk to her. 

"No." He answered truthfully. If she could find a way out, there would be nothing stopping her. She could easily fly away and forget about this. "But you know what they say. It only takes one fight to make a hero." Tony explained. 

Y/n pierced her lips, knowing that she never really intended on leaving. She was all in from the moment Scott had been yelling into the camera and though she'd been doubtful before, she knew this was where she was meant to be. 

"Go be Iron Star." Tony chuckled, making her scoff and shake her head. Of course, he had to ruin the moment. 

"We really gotta talk about that name!" She called, turning away and running off toward the window to her left. Using the thrusters in the metallic boots she flew forward and smashed through the glass, unsteadily keeping herself in the air outside. 

"Just find the stones." 

•••

When Bucky had woken up he was right where he'd been in Wakanda. T'Challa ran to him trying very hastily to explain what had happened. They had been gone for five years according to the wizard man they called 'Strange' and now they needed to come fight Thanos again. 

While Bucky was usually quick to understand and move on to the next fight, he couldn't help but stop at this news. He'd promised himself that the fight with Thanos was the last time so that he could find his soulmate but he was still fighting. When would it stop?

For a split second he feared maybe his chance at meeting his soulmate had come and gone and he frantically ripped back his right sleeve to look at his wrist. 

"3 days?" Sam asked, peeking down at Bucky's arm as T'Challa organized his army. Bucky numbly nodded, his heart racing as he watched the seconds tick away. He was three days away from her. 

He had to make it through this time. 

No matter what. 

•••

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you scan the compound for the stones' energy signature?" Y/n questioned, looking over the wreckage of what was once the Avengers compound. It didn't even look the same, all blown to the foundation with rubble spread around like a battlefield. 

"I detect energy levels matching the stones underneath the building in the sewer systems. You should have access through what's left of the first floor." The A.I. answered. Y/n flew over to the nearest opening of the building, using micro lasers to burn a hole into the floor leading down into the sewers. 

She jumped down into it, landing as quietly as possible before looking around. It was hard to see much, the only light being the blaring red light of the alarm system but the tunnel appeared empty other than the obvious debris and flooding. She cautiously walked forward watching as her display outlined the surrounding area. 

It was eerily silent, the soft trickling of water putting her on edge as she continued down the tunnel, following the power signature of the stones. 

"I detect hostiles approaching." F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke suddenly. Y/n watched carefully as her display changed, showing a clearer picture using an x-ray of the surroundings. The stones rapidly approached as did the hostiles and she quickly held up her hands, powering up the repulsors as Clint ran into her vision.  

"Shoot 'em!" Clint screamed, narrowly dodging one of the creatures that lined the tunnel. Y/n did what he said, firing at the closest creature before moving onto the next, trying to hold them off long enough for Clint to run past her. 

"What the hell are these things?!" She yelled, following after him as they both broke off into a sprint through the water. 

"I don't know but I'm tired of this alien shit!" Clint shouted over his shoulder as Y/n glanced back at the creatures, firing again at one that got too close. Clint pulled out one of his arrows, throwing it into one of the pipes next to them before running faster. 

Catching onto what he was doing, she picked up speed as well, jumping with him as the arrow exploded taking out most of the creatures. Y/n looked up from the ground, noticing that some of them had started to crawl through the flames making her climb to her feet, grabbing Clint under his arms. 

She activated the thrusters and they launched up, faltering a bit since Y/n had barely learned to fly by herself let alone while carrying someone. Clint unsheathed his sword, yelling as he cut through some of the creatures that had climbed up beside them. 

Once reaching the top Y/n dropped him to the side before falling herself, tumbling a few feet away. Clint climbed to his knees, holding out his sword as he let out a threatening shout. Thankfully, no other creatures appeared over the edge and he collapsed onto his back next to Y/n. 

"Hey." Clint chuckled, nudging Y/n tiredly. "You're an Avenger now." He told her drawing a half-hearted laugh from her. She groaned the pain in her ribs increasing at the action and she put a hand over her side. 

"Being an Avenger hurts." 

•••

Once going through the portal the wizard had made, Bucky was met with a wasteland. Thanos and Steve watched as others arrived through the portals and while Steve's expression was much more relieved than Thanos', it was clear they were only evening the playing field as Bucky looked toward Thanos' forces. 

The Wakandan armies chanted as hundreds of other heroes came through the portals, each ready for the final battle. He walked forward, coming to stand a few feet away from Steve as he studied the enemy across the way. He was determined to finish what they had started five years ago. He wanted to find his soulmate and he wanted this fight to truly be the last. 

"Avengers!" Steve called. Bucky held his breath, hoping with everything he had that for all his misfortune over the years, today would end better. 

He'd suffered for a lifetime. 

Please let this be the last fight. 

"Assemble." 

Everyone yelled, running forward at Thanos' forces. The fight broke out and Bucky managed to find himself alongside the raccoon he'd encountered last time. They shared brief eye contact and Rocket's eyes flashed with recognition while Bucky tried to ignore him. 

"How about now?!" Rocket yelled, motioning to his arm. Bucky glanced over at him, growing annoyed with the talking animal's persistence. What the hell would a raccoon do with his arm? 

"No!" Bucky yelled back. He turned, noticing one of the creatures had been sneaking up on Steve while he had his back turned and Bucky quickly shot at it, knocking it down. Steve turned, giving Bucky a grateful and joyous smile. Bucky smiled back making sure to keep aware of the creatures around him. 

"What the hell did you get me into, Steve?" Bucky yelled teasingly. His friend gave a short chuckle, using the large hammer to slam back another one of Thanos's creatures. 

"Nothing two old men can't handle." 

Taglist:

Part eleven

@cancanmarvel

@jessyballet

@eldahae

@mc225g

@kissesofdeadforme

@wantingtobekorra

@sxphiiwrld

@lunaticbarnes

@indecisivedolly

@saiyanprincesswanie

@lextheflexsthings

@silver-winter-wolf

@whatifwedo

@arguedquill1226

@lunashaw57

@loushkspr

@3aileypage

@mela-noche

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Oral Tradition

It was a little past midnight as the weary-eyed students picked up their luggage from the jet. The entire back of the plane had lifted up and a conveyor belt rolled out the attack aircraft they would be using  for the mission. It was like the big Beluga whale plane was giving birth to a killer barracuda.

The jet was outfitted with high powered explosives. The outer shell was made of a material that would shatter and turn into thousands of razor blades, just like the Storm Torpedo had shattered Norton. Huge turrets were armed not with bullets but with thousands of needle-like projectiles like how the sky weapon had devastated Herzog. It was as if the Gear Department had taken all the technology that had been used against the dragons in recent years and put it all in one airborne package.

Brian stood, his duffle bag over one shoulder, watching Ru’Yi collect her things. She seemed sleepy but still bright and happy. He didn’t try to say hi. Their last encounter was humiliating enough. 

It has always understood that through training and learning, even the least of the Hybrids could excel in all sorts of missions in regards to dragonslaying. From the beginning, Brian had distinguished himself in that regard. But at the same time, it was understood that pedigree and bloodline could close the gap between lack of education and training.

He was sure she didn’t mean anything by it personally. She just laid out the facts to him. Ru’Yi’s father and her mother were confirmed slayers of Dragon Kings. She had a better pedigree than even the Executive Department head. Bloodline wasn’t everything, but it was one of the ways you were evaluated. Even though she was not nearly as skilled as the rest, the crowd around her couldn’t help but part now that she had so clearly conveyed to them who exactly she was. She wasn’t even aware of their reverence. She just smiled and nodded in surprise assuming they were being chivalrous when they offered to carry her bags.

He should have taken the hint from his friend Aaron but she definitely put him in his place in her own way. He had no right object any longer.

Aaron stayed next to him, grinning ear to ear.  He raised his face to the warm sea breeze and sighed. “You look like a kicked dog. Cheer up will you?”

He tilted his head to him. “Sure.”

A uniformed woman, tall, with turtle shell glasses, stepped in front of them all. A small smile graced her lips. Her skin was an exceptionally dark and silky ebony. “I’ll be taking you to your accommodations. Please follow me.” Without waiting for confirmation, she turned and started to lead them down a narrow staircase to a passageway below deck.

“Welcome to the Aido-Hwedo. For the unfamiliar, she is a Yorktown-class Aircraft carrier, staffed with 1,273 persons, not including yourselves. We sail for months at a time patrolling for any sign of dragon activity. We are currently carrying 76 aircraft: 10 Seahawk helicopters, 35 Hornets and 31 Super Hornets. Your fighter the Javelin will be making the entry into the weather anomaly but we are here to support you in any way possible. The goal of this mission will be maximum air superiority.”

Despite the age of the vessel, everything was new and state of the art. The halls were spacious enough for them to walk unobstructed even as it was bustling with people. “My name is Lieutenant Summer Hart and I’m going to be your main point of contact.” She turned on her heel to face them. “This cooperation is based on the association with Mr. Baldwin as well as on the goodwill furnished by Principal Anjou. You are representatives and ambassadors here. So don’t do anything to make Anjou sigh in heaven.” She paused a moment and then smiled. “Oh… who am I kidding, we all know he’s in Hell.”

A ripple of soft laughter came from the group. They all had no experience with Anjou in real life, but his reputation for ruthlessness outlived any other trait he had.

Lieutenant Hart continued walking down the hall. “Because you are guests here, we won’t hold you to the full responsibilities of a sailor, however, we are expecting you to be on your best behavior and to follow the schedule of the ship. You are to report at 6 am for roll call. Breakfast is at 8 am. Lunch at 12 noon and dinner at 5 pm. If you are in need of anything we do have a shopping area here on board. As a guest, you are not expected to pay but please…” She glanced behind her. “Do not abuse the privilege.”

“Part of your responsibilities will be keeping your living area clean and tidy. We do not have maid staff on this voyage. At 9 am, your sleeping area will be thoroughly checked for cleanliness and infractions will be reported. Any contraband will be confiscated.” 

The hallway came to an end and she swiped her card. The wall panel suddenly slid open and they were led to what appeared to be something almost like a hospital ward with white walls lined with art and fluorescent lighting.. “This is where you’ll be sleeping. It’s cramped I know but you won’t be here for very long. I know you’re tired from the journey.”

She suddenly turned to Ru’Yi. “Sleeping areas are strictly separated by gender so I’ll show you to the women’s quarters.” She gave the others a fierce glare. “No men are allowed in the women’s area. If you are seen there you will be thrown into the brig. The area is clearly marked.”

Ru’Yi gave a shy little wince. “I guess I have a room to myself?”

“Not really. We weren’t …” Lieutenant Hart paused, rethinking finishing that sentence. Then her smile returned. “We can discuss that later.” She raised her eyes to the rest of the group. “Do you have any questions?”

Shimoda Masato raised his hand. “This is my first time working with the West Africa Branch. Can you tell me a little about your history?”

Liutenant Hart gave a curt nod. “Hybrids have always existed in Africa. While Mesopotamia is traditionally held as the ‘cradle of civilization’, it was the African plains and low forests that birthed humanity itself. We have the oldest relationship and conflict with dragons and their kind.”

She continued. “Our oral history cannot be fully explained by your traditions of the Dark King and the Light King. Our Creation Traditions do have dual gods, Mawu and Lisa. They are Brother and Sister as well as Husband and Wife.  Mawu is Female and Lisa is Male.”

Ru’Yi rubbed her chin.  “Mawu and Lisa are the same Dark King and the Light King?”

Summer Hart shook her head. “We cannot make that assumption. There are too many differences that cannot be explained by Cassell’s traditional knowledge.”

Aaron had an eager expression, pushing to the front of the group.  “Can you give us a brief run down?”

Summer looked a bit tired but couldn’t resist such an enthusiastic and curious audience. . “It was Mawu who created the earth while riding the Rainbow serpent, Aido-Hwedo, sliding across the ground and creating the hills and mountains. After the creation was finished, Mawu felt that the Earth would sink under its own weight, so she tasked Aido-Hwedo to support the earth in its strong coils under the sea.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “In Cassell tradition, there are two Dragon Gods over all dragons, the Dark King Nidhogg and the Light King Izanami. However, in our tradition, the creator duality itself has a parent: Minona. Our traditions are passed down from her, the Mother of the Earth’s creators. She taught us to use the palm tree to tell the future, that is… Alchemy. Minona herself is a twin, sister to the god Legba, which is consistent with draconic relationships and lore. Legba is the one who gave us our Soul Skills.”

The students were whispering and murmuring among themselves after receiving so much new information.

“So, what you’re saying is there are more than two dragon gods? Then how come we don’t read about them in other histories?” Aaron asked, with a puzzled frown.

Summer Hart gave him a kind but pointed look. “Because our traditions are oral, my dear friend. We did not write them down. There are no temples to explore, no ruins, no clay tablet to find.”

Aaron sighed mournfully. “I’m sure Anjou was really curious about it too. It’s a shame he didn’t get to know any of this. I would have loved to have taken a class.”

Summer didn’t respond to that. She simply turned back to the group. “Any other questions?”

Brian lifted his hand. “What sort of kit is on this ship besides the planes?

“The ship is equipped with 8 Mark 12 5"/38 caliber guns, 45 Bofor antiaircraft guns, 32 Oerlikon cannons. All are modified to deal with dragon targets rather than fighter jets. We’re running heavy with alchemy rounds.”

Aaron blinked in shock. He didn’t expect so much artillery. “From the gear department?” 

She shook her head. “We have our own engineers and alchemists to take care of our needs. But please do not be concerned. We pride ourselves on our alchemical prowess and we have a long history of dragon slaying.”

Aaron raised his hand again. “By any chance we could maybe learn more about your type of Alchemy and Soul skills?”

“I will have to ask the brass but… highly unlikely.” She checked her watch. “I will have to take our lone lady to her sleeping quarters. I suggest you get as much rest as you can.”

[vendettacanons]

Random Headcanons I thought up-

// With no rhyme or reason. Includes FAITH, Far Cry, and GTA muse headcanons... but mostly FC 5 and ND since I’ve been on a kick

FAITH: The Unholy Trinity

Lisa used to and still owns a Raggedy Andy doll that she got from her father and mother for her third birthday. It’s a really big comfort to have when she has nightmares or his anxious about something. (Additionally, she had a really big crush on Raggedy Andy when she was younger.)

Lisa is sensitive to touch and values certain textures over others. She loves soft and fluffy things as they bring her a sense of comfort and happiness.

Lisa’s favorite animals to care for are baby animals and animals with soft fur. Sheep, fluffy dogs, baby deer, kittens, and rabbits are all animals she adores.

Lisa is a pescatarian. She’s chosen this diet of her own volition for two main reasons: she doesn’t like the idea of eating red meat or poultry but she knows she needs some protein in her diet and feels better about eating humanely wild-caught fish in comparison. She also does it because she’s been informed that avoiding red meat is healthier anyway and she finds that knowing that helps encourage her to eat more.

FAR CRY

Prior to the Cult taking over, Boomer was regarded as being a quiet, brave, and loyal dog who never so much as growled unless it was an emergency. Since losing his family, he’s become much louder. He barks openly and aggressively, especially when he’s scared and will snap at people if he’s caught off guard.

Boomer now has a Far Cry New Dawn verse. He was taken in by the Cult and kept in John’s bunker, where he was treated with some of the remaining Bliss. Fortunately, it didn’t alter his appearance but it did improve his athleticism and prolong his lifespan.

Cheeseburger really likes pancakes in addition to cheeseburgers. Fluffy buttermilks with syrup are his favorite treat. He also adores barbecue food.

Like Boomer, Cheeseburger also has a Far Cry New Dawn verse. He was taken into a bunker in Jacob’s region and treated with some of the more modified Bliss that was originally used on Judges. It altered his appearance and made him stronger as well as more docile towards the Edeners.

Horatio has separation anxiety. After losing his family to the Highwaymen, he’s quick to bond with the kind humans of Prosperity who saved him. Anyone he’s traveling with he sticks close to. He squeals whenever they go into a place he can’t follow and will circle them when they emerge again. He’ll do tricks for them and boldly defend them from any other creature threatening them.

Horatio loves a good fight. This boar was well known for chasing off bears, wolverines, and cougars that got just a little too close. He’s even been known for shaking off shotgun rounds.

Horatio loves chickens. He grew up surrounded by them and loves to playfully heard them and help them dig up treats. Chickens love him too, and will routine roost on his fuzzy back or build their nests close to him. Horatio was once even found to be helping incubate a clutch of hen’s eggs.

Though Jerome Jeffries is a pastor, he tends to be very tolerant and  understanding in his beliefs. To him, faith is supposed to be a   supporting force for love and acceptance, not a leg for hate to stand on.

Jerome’s PTSD, both from the military and from his run-ins with the cult, mostly affects his sleep. He has nightmares about what the cult has done and what it will do if the Resistance fails.

During  the early defection of the flock from his church, Jerome's wife Joy left him to follow Joseph Seed's path, taking their daughter with her.   Joseph ended up drowning her by accident during one of his routine   baptisms (after which he stopped performing them himself and designated that responsibility to John Seed.) While he does have a note from Joy about her leaving, he doesn't know anything more about her fate.

The Judge is very much into gardening. They know the meanings behind all kinds of flowers, enjoy growing fruits and vegetables, enjoy making floral arrangements, and generally just find tending to the earth relaxing.

When at Prosperity, the Judge tends to stay by themselves and avoid going near anyone they used to know. They hide it well, but the comments they’ve received from some of their old friends hurts them. (This was only worsened after a small misunderstanding led to them being hollered at by Nick and the subsequent attention it drew to them became a lot to bear.)

The root of the Judge’s behavior lies in Joseph’s manipulation of them. Because of him, they sincerely believe that the end of the world as they knew it was their own fault. They gave in to the idea that they were the lamb that broke the seven seals and cause the Collapse. They were also convinced that everyone else knows this too, and that if not for that reason, then they are hated because their friends believed that the Judge abandoned them and joined the enemy; that they willingly joined Joseph and chose to stay with him for 17 years instead of being manipulated to do so (of which the comments have only unknowingly reinforced this idea). Because of these reasons, The Judge insists on punishing themselves and avoiding their old friends because they are unworthy of and unlikely to ever receive their forgiveness.

Despite their routine avoidance, the Judge never truly stopped thinking about their friends and they still care for them even if they believe the feeling is not mutual. If one looks closely enough, they’ll find the names of everyone they came to care about carved into their bow.

Generally speaking, the Judge does not like being the center of attention in any capacity. They do not like being watched or spoken about, they stick to the shadows and avoid most contact really. The only individuals they truly interact with on a consistent basis are Timber, Horatio, Eden’s animals, and an wild animals that approach them.

Trained as one of the finest Chosen to ever be, the Judge is catlike and graceful in all of their movements. They can move completely silently, sit perfectly still for hours, and hit an accurate target from anywhere. They can also lift a greater amount of weight than should be possible for someone of their size (and they are much leaner than they look beneath that outfit).

Staci went through Eli’s reprogramming routine and while he’s not longer so prone to violent tendencies, the effects of Jacob’s conditioning still linger. Hearing “Only You” will send him into an intense panic attack. He’ll scream his throat hoarse and run for cover, he’ll claw at his ears, and he’ll generally be inconsolable for a period during and afterwards.

In the wake of his conditioning, Staci is generally very submissive and conflict aversive. He has a hard time making eye contact, carrying conversations, and is generally very passive in the wake of aggression. He’s eager to please and even more eager to stay under radar. Unlike before, his desire to be appealing is less to impress and more to stay safe, and when he can’t prove himself useful, and tries to make himself as undesirable of a target as possible.

One of Staci’s greatest talents is guitar. He can play phenomenally and he can sing pretty well. In the wake of his time with Jacob, he hasn’t touched the instrument or made any attempts to sing, but he still could if he tried.

As an older dog, Timber’s endurance and joints aren’t what they used to be. He can still run like a puppy, just for not as long and he’ll need a rest afterwards.

The humidity aggravates the mild arthritis in some of his leg joints, so Timber enjoys swimming in the cool waters of Hope County to compensate. They ease the pain and the movement is generally easier than walking. Plus, he just likes swimming.

Timber used to be the leader of a relatively benign pack of wild dogs. They used to sometimes travel with kind humans, hence his understanding that not all people are bad. Eventually though, they were killed and his pack was taken by the Highwaymen.

Timber himself is incredibly inquisitive and perceptive. He can point out enemies, find key resources, learn about and recognize materials by name and smell, and knows how to maneuver over, under, around, and through certain obstacles. This includes opening doors, getting up into high places, and digging impressive tunnels.

To some extent, Timber could be considered an emotional support animal. He seems able to read the emotions of other beings around him and will comfort them if he finds that they are distressed.

Grand Theft Auto

In addition to being Steve’s glorified secretary, Andreas was unofficially designated the social media manager for the LS branch. He runs the FIB Bleeter page and it’s not marked anywhere so he really could post anything on there and no one would know.

Andreas is prone to bouts of anxiety with seemingly no source. He has no real explanation as to why, but he gets this sudden sense of dread or the feeling that there’s danger inexplicably and at random.

Andreas is really averse to wearing the color yellow. Not just because he thinks it makes him look unflattering, but because it dredges up a lot of bad memories for him. Additionally, he’s not fond of gold accessories for similar reasons.

[medprimmer7]

How to being Healthy

We asked three specialists — a naturopathic doctor, a dietitian, and a fitness coach — to reveal to us the best five basic however huge way of life medication transforms they suggest.

Other than giving you three distinct takes on the best way to pick your wellbeing fights, this rundown gives you decisions you can make without being sped off to an unscripted TV drama fat homestead — or purchasing a second cooler for those calorie-controlled, pre-divided frozen dinners.

JAMES ROUSE, N.D.

NATUROPATHIC PHYSICIAN, TRIATHLETE, CHEF, AUTHOR AND HOST OF TV'S "Ideal WELLNESS," HEALTH-TIP SEGMENTS FEATURED ON NBC AFFILIATES IN SEVERAL MAJOR CITIES.

1. THINK POSITIVE AND FOCUS ON GRATITUDE

Exploration shows a solid inspirational mentality helps fabricate a better resistant framework and lifts in general wellbeing. Your body accepts your opinion, so center around the positive.

2. EAT YOUR VEGETABLES

Go for five servings of vegetables daily — crude, steamed, or pan-seared. An eating regimen high in vegetables is related with a decreased danger of creating malignant growths of the lung, colon, bosom, cervix, throat, stomach, bladder, pancreas, and ovaries. Also, a considerable lot of the most impressive phytonutrients are the ones with the boldest tones — like broccoli, cabbage, carrots, tomatoes, grapes, and verdant greens.

3. SET A "5-MEAL IDEAL"

What, when, and the amount you eat can keep both your digestion and your energy levels consistently raised, so you'll have all the more the entire day energy. A "5 supper ideal" will assist you with dealing with your weight, keep your cool, keep up your center, and dodge yearnings.

4. EXERCISE DAILY

Did you realize that every day exercise can decrease the entirety of the biomarkers of maturing? This incorporates improving vision, normalizing circulatory strain, improving slender muscle, bringing down cholesterol, and improving bone thickness. On the off chance that you need to live well and live more, you should work out! Studies show that even ten minutes of activity has an effect — something do as well! Wrench the sound system and dance in your parlor. Pursue swing moving or formal dancing exercises. Stroll to the recreation center with your children or a neighbor you'd prefer to find. Hop rope or play hopscotch. Turn a hula loop. Play water volleyball. Bicycle to work. Hop on a trampoline. Go for a climb.

5. GET A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP

On the off chance that you experience difficulty resting, attempt unwinding procedures like contemplation and yoga. Or then again eat a little sleep time nibble of nourishments appeared to help move the body and brain into rest mode: entire grain oat with milk, oats, cherries, or chamomile tea. Obscure your room more and dismiss your clock from you. Record stresses or distressing contemplations to get them off of your mind and onto the page. This will help you put them into point of view so you can stop agonizing over them.

CHRISTINA REITER, M.S., R.D.

Inhabitant CONSULTING DIETITIAN AT THE UNIVERSITY OF COLORADO–BOULDER WARDENBURG HEALTH CENTER FOR NUTRITION EDUCATION AND THERAPIES AND FORMER DIRECTOR OF THE NUTRITION PROGRAM AT METROPOLITAN STATE COLLEGE OF DENVER.

1. CHECK YOUR FOOD 'TUDE

What we eat and how we feel are connected in complex manners. A solid way to deal with eating is fixated on relishing flavor, eating to fulfillment, and expanding energy, as opposed to zeroing in on weight. Check your equilibrium of low-calorie nourishments, supplement thick food sources (giving numerous supplements per calorie), and food sources that are calorie thick however supplement poor. Most Americans need to eat all the more new entire food sources (as opposed to handled, profoundly refined food sources). Attempt to add all the more entire grains, new products of the soil, and vegetables into your suppers. Pair these carb rich food sources with a sound fat or lean protein to expand fulfillment.

2. EAT LIKE A KID

In the event that adding more products of the soil sounds inauspicious, hope to "finger food" forms that preschool kids love — carrot and celery sticks, cherry tomatoes, broccoli florets, grapes, berries, and dried organic products. All are healthful forces to be reckoned with loaded with cell reinforcements.

3. BE A PICKY EATER

Breaking point immersed fats and trans fats, and mean to eat more nourishments wealthy in calming omega-3 unsaturated fats to cut your danger of cardiovascular sickness and possibly improve discouraged mind-sets. What might be compared to only one gram of EPA/DHA (eicosapentaenoic corrosive/docosahexaenoic corrosive) day by day is suggested. Eating cold-water slick fish (wild salmon, herring, sardines, trout) a few times each week will give both EPA and DHA. Amounting to two tablespoons of ground flaxseed and eating meat, milk, and cheddar from grass-took care of creatures will furnish you with a sound portion of omega-3s.

4. USE FOODS OVER SUPPLEMENTS

Enhancements are not a substitute for a decent eating routine. Albeit numerous wellbeing specialists suggest taking a multivitamin and mineral enhancement that gives 100 to 200 percent of your suggested day by day esteem, every single enhancement ought to be painstakingly assessed for immaculateness and security. Explicit enhancements have been related with harmfulness, responses with meds, rivalry with different supplements, and even expanded danger of illnesses like malignant growth, coronary illness, and diabetes.

5. GET SATISFACTION

Both eating and active work are fun, tactile encounters! In both, focus on delight — not agony. Focus on the dietary benefit of the food sources you decide to eat, just as your feeling of fulfillment, unwinding, strain, elation, and exhaustion when you plunk down to eat. Check in with yourself as you eat, reviving your acknowledgment of craving, totality, and fulfillment while thinking about when and the amount to eat.

RICK OLDERMAN, M.S., P.T.

A PHYSICAL THERAPIST AND OWNER OF Z-LINE TRAINING IN DENVER, COLORADO, OFFERING REHABILITATION, PERSONAL TRAINING, PILATES INSTRUCTION, MOTIVATIONAL INJURY-PREVENTION SEMINARS, EMPLOYEE FITNESS PROGRAM DEVELOPMENT, AND CUSTOM FOOT ORTHOTICS CASTING.

1. Offer YOURSELF A Reprieve

"I spend innumerable hours doing cardio and never appear to lose that last ten pounds!" is a typical protest I hear from customers. Allow yourself to abbreviate your exercise. In all honesty, overtraining could be the issue. Your body can level if not given sufficient rest to reestablish itself, at last prompting a decrease in execution. Exhaustion, grouchiness, absence of energy, discouragement, and expanded cortisol (the "stress" chemical) are a few signs of overtraining disorder. Making a periodization program — separating your everyday practice into different preparing modes — can help forestall overtraining by building rest stages into your routine. For instance, you may weight train on Monday and Wednesday, cycle on Tuesday and Thursday, run on Friday and lay on Saturday and Sunday. You can likewise help balance your program by essentially joining more assortment.

2. THINK SMALL

Regularly the greatest impediment to improving wellbeing is feeling overpowered by all the accessible exhortation and examination. Attempt to zero in first on one little, apparently insignificant, unfortunate propensity and transform it into a sound, positive propensity. In case you're prone to eat when you return home around evening time, all things considered, continue to walk shoes in the carport or doorway and take a brisk turn around the square prior to heading inside. In the event that you have a jar of pop at noon consistently, have a glass of water two days per week all things being equal. Beginning with little, effortless changes sets up the mindset that positive development isn't really agonizing change. It's not difficult to work from here by adding more sound replacements.

3. Stay with GOOD

You can do quite a few things — yet in the event that you have individual associations with individuals who have undesirable propensities, it is regularly a daunting task. The best individuals are the individuals who have associations with other solid individuals. Get your family or companions associated with you when you walk or plan better suppers. Rolling out sound improvements with a friend or family member can unite you just as inspire you.

4. MAKE A LIST… AND CHECK IT TWICE

Require a couple of moments and record all the reasons you can't start an activity program. At that point take a gander at the premise of each reason. For example, on the off chance that you expressed, "No time" as one of your reasons, maybe that depends on a conviction that an activity program takes a great deal of time. Beginning with even five minutes daily will have a constructive outcome since you will have made a solid propensity where one didn't exist previously, and that is an amazing mental change. A more intensive glance at your rundown will uncover those deceptions taking cover behind each pardon.

5. Pursue AN EVENT

Let's be honest, practicing only for practicing or shedding pounds can get exhausting. Flavor things up by pursuing an occasion like a run/walk race or a cycling ride where you can be important for a group. Doing so gives your exercises another reason, and it's amusing to associate with other people who are practicing actually like you — also that most occasions advantage charitable associations, which pairs your vibe great high.

[superchamanme]

How can I lose 15 kilos in 3 months?

To achieve any weight loss, you really need to excercise and eat an overall healthy diet that consist of complex carbohydrates (whole wheat foods that would be great for fiber and needed nutrients), lean protein to help build muscles and repair your body, and good amounts of fat for energy and needed nutrients the body needs that your body cannot create on its own.

By making a few adjustments to your current diet (such as switching to water in place of juice and soda, etc, snacking on fruits and raw veggies instead, chosing whole grain products instead of enriched foods, etc) can also help you to shed some weight (depending on how your current diet is). Also cooking healthier (using a cook spray, switching to olive oil, grilling and steaming more often than pan frying and deep frying, etc.) And to help lessen your sweets consumption, try at least limiting yourself to only 2 or 3 a day. And try having healthier sweets like yogurt, all fruit frozen bars (some are only 90 calories each, and with calories so low, that a treat you could possible have each day), jello, 90 calorie or lower pudding cups, fruit, and low calorie ice cream bars (such as skinny cow, weight watchers, etc.)

If you try interval cardio training and some weight lifting/resistance training, not only will you lose weigh, but you will also help your body become more leaner and tone looking and your core will become stronger.

Try doing some ab work and don't forget to work out your obliques (your "love handles")

Also because muscle does weigh more than fat, you may be heavier essentially, but leaner too. Eventually the more muscles you will build, the more weight you can burn. More muscles will help you burn more calories at rest. And then eventually the fat/weight will come off... but everything takes time. Remember, it is possible to be leaner and stronger, but weight more. But don't give up and stay motivated... we all hit plateus. Also remember, that every one is a different individual and that we all lose weight from different places at different times. Your body choses when it is time, just be patience.

And please note that if you try to lose a lot of weigh in a short amount of time, your body will really go through some health problems. Some risks could be that your hair may grown thinner, your periods may not be regular anymore (which is not a good thing), and your stomach system will be working slower, etc.

Realistically, if you lose weigh the heathy way, then 1 to 2 pounds per week is a reasonable amount per week. Anything more, may be due to water loss or you have decided to go the other route and lose weigh by starving yourself.

Remember that the number on the scale doesn't define you... you define you. The scale can't tell you how great you look in your jeans or how you feel... so don't rely so heavily on that scale. Our bodies's weight constantly fluctuates all the time... so it isn't always so reliable.

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