#rubber dumbbell set

[cockatooindia]

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[vulcan-strength-training-systems]

Buy Squat Stands For strength training exercises gym

Vulcan Squat Stands for a home gym, CrossFit gym, or commercial gym or athletic training facility.  This is an essential piece of Equipment for CrossFit.  Squat Stands ships free.

[hrsports1]

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[beitnow123]

What is rubber gym flooring?

What is rubber gym flooring?

You can use rubber flooring to create an exercise room or commercial gym. Rubber flooring is ideal for gyms because it's versatile, durable, and requires little maintenance. Rubber flooring is available in different forms, such as interlocking tiles and rolls. Mats, sheets, and mats are also available to suit your needs.

Rubber flooring is made from recycled tires. This makes it extremely durable. Befitnow offers Rubber Flooring Canada.

Rubber flooring offers many benefits:

Durability

Rubber gym flooring is durable, strong and resilient. These rubber surfaces are also difficult to scratch, gouge or scuff. Rubber flooring materials are durable and will last for years.

Heavy Impact Loads: Resistance to impact

Rubber flooring is resistant and dense enough to withstand gym equipment weighing thousands of pounds, as well high impact activities, without ripping or tearing.

Slip Resistance

Rubber flooring is resistant to slipping even when wet. Installing rubber flooring will provide you with a non-slip surface for working out. You don't have to worry about injuries from slips.

Water-Resistant

Rubber flooring is 100% waterproof. Seal the flooring using a rubber floor sealer and seal the seams by using a seam sealer. Water can seep under the flooring if you don't seal it and apply a finish.

Sound absorption

Rubber is a great flooring material for areas with high traffic and large spaces, such as gyms and stadiums, where sound bounces from the walls.

The following are some of the benefits that gym flooring can provide:

Injury Prevention

Versatile

Durable

Noise Reduction

Water and chemical resistance

Durability

Impact-absorption

Dropped or falling weights can cause resistance to break.

The traction that is sensible

Stability

Luxurious look

Rubber gym flooring has a number of drawbacks.

Smell

Rubber flooring has a distinctive smell. The glue that holds rubber flooring to the flooring is gassing.

Some products are more scented than others, depending on the raw materials used or the way the flooring is made. The strongest smell is during the installation. The smell will slowly diminish a few days after installation.

You can also mop the floor a few more times using a mild cleaning solution of soap and water. Keep the room well ventilated or let the flooring dry outside. This should help to eliminate the smell.

Low Temperature Insulation

Rubber is not a good insulator for temperature transmission.

Considerations to make when installing outdoor sports flooring

The conclusion of the article is:

Now that you know the biggest Rubber Flooring Canada pros and cons.

If you want to upgrade your gym or workout space with the best flooring solution in UAE, get started with some free samples to find the perfect options for you. Browse today for the best Gym Flooring Canada

Send us an email at sales@befitnow.ca for more information or give us a call on + 647-545 5393

[hunkpossession0]

**Riding a New Life: A Ghost's Journey**

I had been a wandering spirit for what felt like an eternity. Ever since the accident that severed my connection to the living world, I had been drifting through the ether, invisible and forgotten. That is, until today.

I found myself in a dimly lit parking garage, the scent of gasoline and rubber filling the air. The growl of an engine echoed off the walls, and that’s when I saw him—a young biker, effortlessly cool in his black and red leather suit, leaning casually against his sleek Honda. He was everything I had once admired from afar, back when I was alive.

I watched him for a moment, a pang of envy and longing coursing through my spectral form. Then, almost instinctively, I felt myself drawn toward him. There was a sudden pull, a rush of energy, and before I knew it, I was inside his body.

The moment I slipped into his form, it was as if the world exploded in sensation. The first thing I noticed was the heat—the intoxicating warmth of his skin, the snug embrace of the leather suit wrapping around me. It was a second skin, tight and form-fitting, accentuating every contour and muscle. The leather was smooth and supple, a mix of security and allure that was almost overwhelming.

I flexed my fingers, feeling the resistance of the gloves, the reassuring grip they provided. I couldn't help but admire the strength in these hands, the power in this body. My heart raced, not just from the thrill of possession, but from the sheer intensity of feeling alive again. The suit clung to me, a perfect fit, and I relished the way it made me look—strong, confident, and undeniably hot.

Every step I took in the leather suit was a new discovery. The way it accentuated my broad shoulders, the way it hugged my biceps and triceps, making every muscle pop with definition. I could feel the smooth caress of the leather against my skin, the way it moved with me, an extension of my newfound strength.

After an exhilarating ride through the city, I decided to explore more of what this new life had to offer. I had noticed a gym bag in the trunk of his bike, and an idea struck me. I headed to the local gym, eager to test the limits of this new body.

Entering the gym, I felt a wave of excitement. The scent of sweat and metal filled the air, and the rhythmic clanking of weights created a motivating soundtrack. I walked confidently to the locker room, changing into a tank top and workout pants that showed off my muscular physique. The reflection in the mirror was almost surreal—I was now this fit, handsome biker with a body that drew admiration and respect.

I started with some light stretches, feeling every muscle respond with a fluidity and power I had never experienced before. Moving to the weight section, I picked up a dumbbell, the cold metal heavy in my hand. I began a series of bicep curls, watching in awe as the muscles in my arms bulged and flexed.

The intensity of the workout was intoxicating. I pushed myself harder, feeling the burn in my muscles, the rush of endorphins coursing through my veins. I moved from one machine to another, challenging myself with each set, reveling in the strength and endurance of this body.

Between sets, I caught glimpses of myself in the mirror. The way the tank top clung to my chest and shoulders, the way my arms looked pumped and powerful—it was a heady mix of vanity and pride. I couldn't help but snap a quick selfie, capturing the moment of pure, unadulterated strength.

As the workout continued, I felt a growing sense of accomplishment. This body was capable of so much, and I was determined to explore its limits. The sweat poured down my skin, a testament to the hard work and effort I was putting in. And with each rep, each lift, I could feel myself growing more confident, more comfortable in this new skin.

But something was missing. My spectral journey had been long and lonely, and I longed to share this new life with someone who understood. That’s when I remembered my closest ghost friend, another lost soul who had wandered with me through the void. He deserved this chance too.

Later that evening, I returned to the parking garage, where I found another biker—a friend of the man whose body I had claimed. He was tall and lean, with a rugged handsomeness that made my decision easy. I called out to my ghost friend, guiding him to this new vessel.

With a rush of energy, my friend entered the biker’s body. The transformation was immediate. He blinked, adjusting to the new sensations, then looked at me with a mixture of awe and gratitude. We were no longer lost souls. We were alive, and we had each other.

Together, we returned to the gym. It was a surreal experience, seeing my friend in his new form, watching him flex and admire his new physique. We took a moment to capture it—a selfie of the two of us, side by side, strong and proud. The bond we shared as ghosts had transformed into something deeper, something more intimate.

In the gym mirror, we stood close, our bodies radiating strength and confidence. My friend, now in his own muscular form, flexed his bicep while I wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Our tank tops clung to us, revealing every sculpted muscle, every defined line. The pride in our eyes was unmistakable. Here we were, two souls reborn, finding a new life and love in the most unexpected way.

As the days passed, we explored our new lives together. We rode our bikes through the city, feeling the wind on our faces, the thrill of speed and freedom. We worked out side by side, pushing each other to new heights, celebrating every achievement.

Our connection grew stronger, evolving into a romantic bond that felt natural and right. We were a couple now, navigating this new world together. The love we had for each other, forged in the ethereal realm, blossomed in our new, physical forms.

And as we stood together, gazing at our reflections, we knew that this was just the beginning. We had found a new home, a new life, and most importantly, we had found each other. The road ahead was ours to conquer, and we were ready to face it together.

The leather suit, which had started it all, became a symbol of our transformation. Every time I slipped into it, I felt a rush of excitement and power. The way it hugged my body, the way it made me look and feel—it was exhilarating. And as we rode together, side by side, I knew that we were more than just bikers. We were partners, lovers, and together, we were unstoppable.

[incorrectbatfam]

Batfam's beige flags

Dick: says "when I'm famous" like he's not Dick "Nightwing" Grayson

Jason: reads by candlelight even though he has a perfectly functional lamp

Tim: has a monochrome Google calendar

Damian: has everyone saved in his contacts by last name only

Duke: plays equivalent-length shows or movies in the background instead of setting a timer

Cullen: turns every song into the Black Parade when there's a G note

Stephanie: acts out dramatic scenes with eggs before cracking them

Cassandra: opens plastic packaging with her teeth

Barbara: refers to house music as "that stuff with DJs"

Harper: glues sponge pieces to rubber gloves for dishwashing

Carrie: sips ketchup between french fries

Kate: keeps a pair of dumbbells in her purse

Helena: makes homemade garlic spray in case of vampires

Luke: waits for sparkling water to go flat before drinking it

Bette: eats bananas like watermelons

Alfred: buys the Trader Joe's version of popular snacks

Selina: refuses to call villains by cool monikers

Bruce: introduces himself as "Selina's husband" instead of his name

[waitforyrlove]

˙ . ꒷ introducing personal trainer ! drew . 𖦹˙—

meeting personal trainer ! drew for the first time.

he was everything, the kind of face you only see on screens, plastered across the internet, his name etched in the credits of blockbuster movies. He was untouchable, a admiration you could only admire from afar. But then, like a joke, the universe aligned in the strangest way. Through some twist of fate—or your mom’s ability to network with his mom—Drew wasn’t just a distant person anymore. He was here, in your orbit, as a personal trainer assigned to you.

it was the kind of collision that could split universes.

you arrived at the gym, your heart thudding like a bad drum solo, the weight of it all pressing heavier than anything. The place was nearly empty, a quiet stage set for an encounter that felt both surreal and terrifying. He wasn’t just the guy from your screen anymore, he was in flesh and bone, waiting for you in a space where every little thing could happen.

you gripped the door handle and paused. This wasn’t just a meeting. This was like stepping into a parallel universe.

you stepped inside, the cool air of the gym hitting your face like reality itself. The place smelled of fresh rubber mats and faintly of sweat—you scanned the space, your breath catching when you spotted him.

he wasn’t posing for a camera or performing. He was leaning casually against a weight rack, scrolling through his phone, his jawline sharp enough to cut through your nerves. His hair was tousled in that effortlessly perfect way. He looked up as you entered, his face breaking into a smile that made him seem… normal, almost.

“You must be my new client,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. Not rehearsed. Not scripted. Just real.

you nodded, suddenly hyper-aware of every move you made. Did your gym clothes look okay? Were your sneakers too scuffed? Could he tell you’d Googled him for hours last night, trying to prepare yourself for this moment?

“Don’t be nervous,” he added, as if reading your mind. “Everyone starts somewhere.” He motioned for you to join him, his tone as casual as if you were old friends meeting up instead of a star and some random gym-goer linked by their moms’ ability to link.

you walked over, still trying to believe this was happening. He picked up a clipboard and scanned it like he’d done this a hundred times before, but you couldn’t help wondering what was going through his mind. Was this just another gig for him? A break from the spotlight? Or did he see this as a chance to be… normal, even for a moment?

“All right,” he said, looking up at you with a grin. “Let’s start with something easy. How’s your stamina?”

you almost laughed out loud at the question. Not great, you wanted to say, considering it had taken all your emotional reserves just to show up today. But instead, you nodded and stammered, “It’s… okay, I guess.”

Drew’s grin widened, and he grabbed a pair of light dumbbells. “Let’s warm up. And don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

you didn’t know if it was the charisma, the absurdity of the situation, or the way he spoke like he actually believed it, but for the first time, you let yourself relax. Maybe, just maybe, this collision of worlds wasn’t as terrifying as you thought.

the warm-up was harmless enough—light weights, stretches, and a jog on the treadmill that had your legs feeling slightly wobbly. he kept it professional, guiding you with the calm authority of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. Still, every time he brushed past or adjusted your form, you felt like a live wire, your body hyperaware of his presence.

the came the squats.

“Okay,” Drew said, grabbing a barbell and loading it with what looked like a manageable amount of weight. “Squats are all about form. It’s not about how much you can lift—it’s about doing it right. Otherwise, you’re asking for an injury.” He turned to you, his smile teasing. “And trust me, I’m not letting that happen, yeah?”

you nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the way his fitted shirt clung to his chest, his abs more predominant than ever. He positioned you in front of the squat rack, stepping closer than before. “I’m going to check your form,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “so don’t freak out if I adjust you a bit.”

your pulse quickened as you slid under the barbell, your hands gripping the cool steel. You tried to focus on the instructions—feet shoulder-width apart, core engaged—but it was impossible with Drew standing so close, his presence magnetic.

you lowered into the first squat, your movements stiff and uncertain. “Not bad,” he mutters, his voice warm. “But you’re leaning forward a bit too much. Here.” He stepped behind you, his hands lightly grazing your hips. The contact sent a jolt up your spine.

“Relax,” he said softly, his tone soothing. “i’m just helping you align.” His hands guided your hips back slightly, his fingertips firm but careful. He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath brushing the back of your neck as he spoke. “Imagine you’re sitting down in a chair—hips back, chest up. Got it?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. You dropped into another squat, this time following his adjustments. His hands lingered for a moment, steadying you, and you swore you felt his thumbs press slightly as if to reassure you.

“Perfect,” he whispers, his voice dipping just enough to make your stomach flip. “you’ve got it now.”

you straightened, trying to calm the pounding in your chest, but he wasn’t done. “Let’s do a few more reps,” he said, stepping even closer. “and I’ll spot you to make sure you stay balanced.

you swallowed hard and lowered again, the weight pressing down on your shoulders. This time, Drew’s hands hovered near your waist, ready to catch you if you wobbled. His voice was steady, guiding you through each movement. “Nice, controlled. That’s it.”

with each rep, the air between you seemed to grow heavier, charged with something unspoken. On the last squat, your legs trembled slightly, and Drew’s hands quickly caught your waist, steadying you before you could stumble.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” he said, his voice close to your ear now. His grip was firm, his fingers pressing against your sides just enough to ground you. For a second, you were aware of everything—his strength, his scent, the way his body seemed to align perfectly with yours.

you straightened up, the barbell returning to the rack with a loud clang. Drew stepped back, giving you space, but the look in his eyes lingered—a flicker of something that wasn’t entirely professional.

“Nice work,” he said, his smile back, though his voice carried an edge of something deeper. “you’re a quick learner.”

you tried to play it cool, wiping your palms on your leggings, but your heart was still racing. Maybe it was just the workout. Or maybe… it wasn’t.

his words hung in the air, laced with that playful undertone that made it impossible to ignore the tension building between you. He stepped forward again, just enough to breach your personal space, as if testing an invisible boundary. His eyes searched yours, a glint of mischief sparking behind them.

“I bet I can push you just a little more.”

your breath hitched, was he still talking about training?

before you could answer, Drew reached past you, his arm brushing yours as he adjusted the barbell on the rack. His proximity sent a shiver down your spine. “How about we finish with one more set?” he suggested, his voice dropping an octave. “This time, we’ll add a little more weight. You up for the challenge?”

“I… think so,” you managed, though your voice came out shakier than you’d intended.

“Good,” he said, stepping back with a sly smile. “But we’re doing this together.”

your brows furrowed. “Together?”

he nodded, already removing his hoodie to reveal a snug tank top that clung to his toned frame. “A little extra motivation goes a long way.” He gestured for you to get into position under the bar. As you did, he stepped behind you once more, closer than before.

“This time,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, “i’ll hold the bar with you. Don’t worry—I’ll take some of the weight if it gets too much.”

your heart was hammering in your chest as you slid your hands back onto the bar. You felt his hands move next to yours, his grip firm and steady. His body was so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, his chest just barely brushing your back.

“Ready?” he asked, his tone making the word feel loaded.

“Yeah,” you whispered, though it came out more like a breath.

“Good,” he said, leaning closer, his breath grazing the shell of your ear. “now let’s make this count.”

as you lowered into the squat, Drew followed, his body moving in perfect sync with yours. His hands remained firm on the bar, but you couldn’t ignore the way his chest seemed to align perfectly with your back, his presence both steadying and electric.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice smooth and encouraging. “keep your core tight. I’ve got you.”

when you rose, your legs trembling slightly under the weight, Drew didn’t let go. Instead, his hands shifted subtly, his fingers grazing yours. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he murmured, his tone carrying a hint of something more than just encouragement.

you glanced back over your shoulder, catching the flicker of heat in his gaze. For a moment, the gym seemed to fade away, the sounds of clanging weights and distant music muted by the intensity of the moment.

“You okay?” Drew asked, his lips curving into a smirk that was equal parts concern and challenge.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice a little steadier now. “Let’s do one more.”

his grin widened, his eyes never leaving yours as he leaned in just a fraction closer. “That’s what I like to hear.”

you weren’t sure whether it was the workout, the proximity, or the way his voice seemed to wrap around you like a promise, but as you lowered into that final squat, you knew one thing for sure—Drew wasn’t just pushing your limits in the gym. He was blurring the line between professional and something far more dangerous.

[f1daydreamers]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: This is me writing in hopes to distract myself from that abysmal final! Just to preface that Lee Richardson is the performance psychology consultant at LFC :) Also, I feel like Trent’s quite shy so I don’t think he’d be as rude as he is in this fanfic but for this to be a kinda enemies to lovers, I upped his rude boi energy by like 100% lol

There's no age gap btw! In the UK, it's doable to become a licensed sports psychologist in 6-10 years. If it took Reader 7/8, that would place her around 25 or 26 years of age. So, both Trent and Reader are of similar ages!

Warnings: psychology but nothing too in-depth, Trent’s rude in this :D, angst, very tense energy

Word Count: 1.9k words (6 mins reading time avg)

…

You checked your watch once, twice, then three times within a mere five minutes.

The sterile office, with its minimalist decor and muted lighting, seemed to magnify your impatience. Your eyes wandered to the vacant chair opposite you, and you sighed deeply.

Trent Alexander-Arnold was now fifteen minutes late for his first appointment.

“Not the best start,” you muttered under your breath.

Jotting a quick note on a pink Post-it to purchase a digital clock for your desk, you flipped the pen and clicked it shut, placing it down with a resigned finality. The email that landed in your inbox felt almost comically timed. It was from Lee, wishing you luck on your first official day.

You’d been in and out of the training center for the past week, organising your office, which had previously served as a spare room, often only used for the odd meetings.

Boxy and unfamiliar, it was a space you intended to transform into something warmer and more inviting with time. But any attempt to distract yourself proved futile; even the mental image of your office becoming a cozy haven couldn’t quell the unrest you felt inside.

Trent’s absence was more than a minor inconvenience; it felt like a deliberate message. After what Lee had disclosed about his rather aloof attitude, you couldn’t say you were entirely surprised.

Locking your office behind you, you ventured into the heart of the training facility. As you passed by groups of players and staff, your shoulders tensed imperceptibly. You adjusted your pace, trying to find a balance between caution and confidence.

Every corner turned, every nod exchanged with passing colleagues, felt like a small test of acceptance. Your mind raced with thoughts of proving yourself here. While a flicker of self-doubt danced across your features, you masked it beneath a veneer of professional composure.

You eventually found Trent tucked away in the far corner of a sparsely populated gym. A few exchanged ‘good mornings’ and ‘hellos’ momentarily eased your stress, but your tension returned as your gaze settled again on the man who had been purposefully late.

With a deep breath, you started heading towards him, weaving your way through the labyrinth of gym equipment.

You skirted around the treadmills, their rhythmic thudding echoing your own anxious heartbeat. Passing by the clanking weights, you dodged a few stray dumbbells left on the floor. The aroma of rubber mats and iron filled the air.

Finally, you rounded the weightlifting machines and found Trent on a mat, engrossed in his exercises. His headphones were still firmly in place, and his expression remained inscrutably focused, as though he was blocking out the world around him.

When you finally reached him, you hesitated, wanting to wait until he finished his set so as not to disturb his workout.

However, Trent spotted your reflection in the mirror in front of him as he came up. He stopped mid-crunch, the beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. He looked down, knowing exactly what this would be in regard of. He’d seen you around the training grounds enough to be familiar.

His elbows rested on his knees as his arms folded inward. He exhaled deeply, trying to regulate his breathing.

He wiped the tip of his nose with the pad of his thumb, then pulled his headphones off and let them rest around his neck.

“What?” He looked at you with mild irritation, craning his neck to see you standing just a few steps behind him.

Your lips pressed together in a courteous and tight-lipped smile.

“Hi, Trent. I’m Y/N, the new psychologist. We had an appointment scheduled for twenty minutes ago.”

Turning back to face the mirror, he stretched his arms out in front of him before reaching for a hand towel to wipe the sweat from his brow and neck.

Then he shrugged, his indifference palpable.

“Yeah, I know.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his response as you studied his expression in the mirror. His face shifted subtly, but the changes were too fleeting to decipher.

“Then why didn’t you show up?” you asked, your tone calm but firm.

"I don't see the point," he responded flatly.

In one fluid motion, he planted one palm firmly on the ground before twisting his torso and hoisting himself up with a push, turning to face you as he rose gracefully to his feet.

Your eyes locked inevitably, the proximity of his body left you no choice but to gaze up at his face, your chin tilting ever so slightly upward.

Beads of sweat glistened from his forehead, and his mouth was slightly parted as he scrutinised you from head to toe. A scoff escaped him before he turned away, sliding off some weight plates and placing them methodically beside his mat.

"I don’t need some shrink telling me how to play football," he asserted dismissively, the hints of his accent colouring his defiant tone.

You took a moment to consider your response, your gaze tracing the broad shape of his shoulders. Despite the urge to react defensively, you couldn’t shake the awareness that someone might be listening in from behind you.

You cautiously approached him, aware of the tension hanging in the air, his eyes flicking to your reflection in the mirror.

"I'm not here to tell you how to play football," you began calmly, letting the weight of your words settle between you. "I'm here to help you navigate everything off the pitch that might impact your performance on it."

"Well, thanks, but no thanks," Trent said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I've managed fine so far."

“Have you?” you questioned, quickly scanning the room for any prying ears, relieved to find everyone engrossed in their own routines.

Trent rose up, clutching a 15-pound weight plate between his hands.

"Because from where I stand, the club thinks you could use some support. And honestly, there's no shame in that." That was a saying your professors had instilled in you from day one.

Trent's jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might ignore you. Instead, he pivoted to face you once more, his presence suddenly palpable.

"Look, I get that you're just doing your job, yeah? But don't expect me to pour my heart out to some stranger. Especially on someone else's schedule." He emphasised.

You blinked, but maintained eye contact, refusing to back down. "Fair enough. But I'm not going anywhere, Trent. Whether you like it or not, I'll keep trying to reach you."

He studied you for a moment, then shook his head slightly, leaning in just a bit closer.

"Good luck with that, psychologist."

…

"I think that's our time wrapped up, thank you so much, Conor." You hoisted yourself up with the armrests of your chair and gave a warm smile to the man opposite you.

"Yeah, no worries. I'll see you around." Conor said as he turned, rounding the chair he was just sitting on, giving you a final nod and smile before leaving and closing the door behind him.

You waited until it clicked shut before you sinked into your chair again. Your work was deeply important to you, one of few things in life you were immensely passionate about, but man, it took its toll on longer days.

You rubbed your temples in a poor attempt to alleviate the dull ache that had formed from hours of conversation. As you tried to gather your thoughts, the interruption in the form of a new email snapped you back to reality.

It was from Lee, asking you to come and see him when you were free.

Your head rolled back for a brief moment of respite. Trent had been on your mind ever since your confrontation earlier, lingering in the back of your thoughts throughout the day, despite the overall improvement as the hours ticked by.

Resigning yourself to more work, you pushed yourself up with a temporary surge of motivation. Straightening your blouse and combing your hair with your fingers, you headed towards Lee's office across the hall.

The door stood ajar, a silver name plaque bearing his name neatly affixed. Lee's office exuded an air of scholarly authority, with shelves lined with books, framed certificates adorning the walls, and strategically placed pieces of Liverpool memorabilia.

He glanced up from his desk as you knocked on the doorframe.

"You asked to see me?" you inquired, your head tilting slightly as he closed the folder he was reading, sliding it into the filing cabinet behind him.

"Yes, come in," Lee replied, gesturing toward the chair positioned across from him.

You smoothed down your skirt as you settled into the chair, intertwining your hands on your lap.

His demeanor exuded encouragement, warmth evident in the gentle lines of his smile. As he gathered his thoughts, your eyes fell upon a framed picture on his desk. Lee stood on the far left, flanked by several players including Trent and Curtis, their bright smiles frozen in time.

Your own smile deepened at the sight, noting how much younger they all appeared in the photograph. But as today's events replayed in your mind, your gaze momentarily lowered before returning to meet Lee's.

"A few years ago, that one," he pointed briskly at the photo, though he didn't give you time to respond before changing the topic - a relief, in your opinion.

"So," Lee clasped his hands together, "first official day? How'd it go?"

Pushing back thoughts of Trent deliberately, today had gone rather well.

"Good, honestly. Wataru and Conor were a little shy at first, but I think I was able to break through by the end of our sessions. Curtis was quite bubbly and a joy to talk to. We had some positive discussions too." You truthfully answered, giving a polite smile to round off your answer.

He nodded, impressed. Without a word, he turned to squint at his computer screen, his glasses perched atop his head. "And Trent?"

You cleared your throat, your tongue swiping over your bottom lip nervously. After a moment's hesitation, you shook your head once before answering.

"Trent didn't show up." You admitted with a wry smile. "I found him in the gym and brought it up but I wouldn't say that was a positive discussion."

Lee chuckled softly, his voice carrying a gentleness that belied his words. "Trent’s a tough nut. He’s got a lot on his shoulders and doesn't easily trust new people. But that's why you're here."

You nodded resolutely. "Absolutely. I don't intend on letting up."

"If you want me to step in-" He began but you shook your head again, halting him in the middle of his sentence.

"I respectfully don't think that's going to help. He's not exactly trusting of me right now, and I'm worried about the impression you stepping in might leave. I'm fortunate he's at least talking to me and sharing his feelings." You said with a measured tone, your words careful and tinged with a hint of apprehension.

"Well, you're the pro," you smiled at his joke, exhaling a sigh.

"I'm relying on your guidance, Lee. I can only hope he'll start working with me."

Lee nodded thoughtfully. "Trent respects effort and authenticity. He's introverted, sure, but once he's comfortable, he's a lovely lad."

"I'm sure," you blinked, fiddling nervously with your fingers.

Once he's comfortable.

That shouldn't take too long, you lied to yourself.

...

Part 2

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

[milykins]

Ask for requests and ye shall receive! I'm not good at writing requests so bear with me lol. It's a silly Raph x reader scenario I've had in my head for a minute. It's the dead of winter and reader is going to the lair absolutely freezing 'cause its snowing out. Once reader gets there, they see Raph working out and looking very warm...it'd be a real shame it someone with freezing hands where to try to steal that body warmth >:3

Thank you for the ask! It was a fun prompt. I hope this is what you had in mind!

Raph×Reader

No warnings - rated E for everyone

Special thanks to @sophiacloud28 for beta reading this!

Cold Hands

Your fingers were numb. You couldn’t feel your face either. You haven’t for about fifteen minutes since you made the stupid decision to walk home from work. Miserably forcing your way through the snow, you were unsure if you still had feet or two large blocks of ice. You hated being cold, especially this cold. Mustering the effort you kept going, huffing out clouds of vapour. Only a few more minutes to the manhole cover.

With shaking fingers you hooked the metal tool for lifting it into the holes. “C’mon…” it seemed to take longer this time, adding to your frustration.

You slipped in before it was fully open. You could care less about the ping Donnie would get from leaving it ajar. It’s far too cold and your concern for hypothermia was outweighing everything.

You needed warmth and you had your sights set on your favourite bruiser.

The lair was surprisingly quiet. Good. There was only one person you wanted to see after that lovely walk.

Shaking the remaining snow from your coat, you threw it haphazardly on the nearest chair. Exposing your poor feet to the sudden warmth brought forth a gasp of discomfort. Your toes and fingers tingled like fire as your warmed blood worked through the frozen appendages.

The set temperature of the lair was not enough to really help you feel normal again. You needed him.

You located Raphael in the weight room. He appeared to be part-way through his workout, standing and facing away from you. He was grunting softly to himself, clearly associated with power-lifting a couple of massive weights. Despite how cold you were still, it was hard not to appreciate him for a moment. The way his muscles bunched and tensed. The rivulets of sweat from his efforts.

He'd once told how much weight he could curl and the amount was staggering. Around five hundred pounds effortlessly on a good day. The man certainly took his workouts seriously, that was for sure.

Watching how hot he looked, literally and figuratively, a devilish thought entered your mind. You shouldn’t, oh, but you were going to. This was perfect, and you knew he wouldn’t hear you.

Excitement building, you slowly approached, hands at the ready, craving that body heat only he could give. Without warning, you yanked his mask tails to get him right where you wanted him, placing those freezing hands of yours right where his neck met his carapace.

The sound that came out of Raph was nothing short of hilarious. It was a cross between a gasp and a cry, with in an expletive added in for good measure.

“Aaagh! The FUCK?!”

You firmly held your freezing hands in place while the dumbbells slipped from his, hitting the floor with a couple of two separate loud thumps. Thankfully, it was protected by a thick, rubber mat, or they would’ve left a couple of dents.

He turned his head sharply to look at you, eyes narrowing considerably that you’d interrupted his workout like this.

Smiling innocently, you just shrugged. “I… I was cold… and you looked so hot.”

Always a sucker for praise his bunched shoulders dropped and the hint of a smile was forming. You knew he couldn’t be too mad at you.

Removing his wireless headphones, he hung them on a spare hook and turned, taking your smaller hands in his massive ones. The warmth of them drawing a small sigh of relief from you.

“Cold, eh?” Looking at you finally, he noticed your still-flushed cheeks and echoes of melted snow in your eyelashes and hair.

“Baby, did you walk?” His expression quickly changed to one of concern. “Why didn’t ya Uber it?”

You gave him a half-hearted shrug with the decency to look a little ashamed. “The weather was too bad… I would’ve been waiting an hour, so I decided to bite the bullet and walk.”

Releasing one of your hands, he brushed his knuckles across your cheek, still able to feel to lingering chill. “Ya shoulda waited… this type of weather isn’t great for me. It’ll basically cause me to slow down and sleep. You, on the other hand, could lose a finger or somethin’.”

Eyes fluttering closed a moment, you leaned closer. You craved the heat radiating from his body. “I’m sorry…”

“I’m gonna rack these, hold on.” He turned, hefting those huge dumbbells onto a custom-made rack. “Half a workout it is. I gotta get you warmed up.”

You begin to protest. You hadn’t meant to interrupt him this much. “B-but, Raph, you don’t have to-.“

He silenced you with a kiss and slid his arms under your back and legs to draw you right up against his solid form. “I need a shower anyway.”

And that was that. He was already taking long strides to the bathroom. You shivered in excitement that had nothing to do with how cold you’d been. He was heading to the one with the huge walk-in shower that you adored. Unsurprisingly, you couldn’t find a single reason to argue with him.

“I guess a shower doesn’t sound so bad… as long as I have you to keep me company…” You wrapped your arms around him pulling yourself up just enough to squish your cold cheek against his warm one.

Raph shivered a little before moving on. “Oh, that’s something you never gotta worry about sweetheart… warming you up is my specialty. Plus, those ice picks you called hands were absolutely criminal.” You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that teasing smirk of his.

“So, I can’t steal your body heat when I’m cold?” You were really playing it up, sticking your bottom lip out and giving him those ‘eyes’.

He kissed your pout and chuckled low in his throat. “Maybe not when I’m doin’ curls, alright? Yer lucky I didn’t drop those damn weights on your feet.”

Laughing more, you nodded. “Deal, now undress me and get me in that shower.”

He growled softly as he brought you in. Closing and locking the door behind himself he was fully intent on a making good on that promise.

Things had never been hotter between the two of you.

End

Until the next ask! This is the first of three!

Taglist

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus

@the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28

@definitely-canon @scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie

Please ask if you'd like me to add you to the taglist

[kayr0ss]

Forty-Seven Steps

[Gundam: The Witch from Mercury, Sulemio, Fluff, Everything is OK!!, Miorine Works Out] AO3 Link

Summary: Suletta falls asleep, and Miorine starts working out… for some odd reason.

I.

This was ridiculous. 

Her arms were burning, her knees were shaking, and she wanted to cry (just a little bit) but it had to be done because when she wants something, she follows through. That’s just the way she was. 

“Stupid weights,” Miorine grumbled to herself. “Stupid simulated gravity on campus.”

There weren’t a lot of other students in the campus gym, much less in the odd hours that Miorine chose to frequent it. This was good, she hated unwanted attention. She took another deep breath, clapping her hands together and watching chalk powder puff out into the air. She set her feet apart and picked up her weights. One dumbbell in each hand—a whopping three pounds each. She’d work her way up; a girl had to start somewhere.

How Suletta made this look so easy was beyond her, but then again many things about Suletta were.

“One,” she grunted. “Two.” She took another rhythmic breath. “Three,” her pace began to slow. She was finding it more difficult to curl her arms fully, but one more—one more—“four.”

She let her arms go slack after the last rep, dropping the weights onto the rubber-padded floors. They were pastel purple and quite pleasant to look at, though their lack of wear-and-tear only proved that students preferred the corporation-sponsored gyms of their own houses. 

“Alright,” she huffed. “One more.” She set a timer for one minute, picked the dumbbells up, and curled her arms up to a forty-five degree angle. 

Through gritted teeth, she was determined to hold it.

——

II.

“W—what are you… doing?” 

Suletta couldn’t help her wide-eyed stare. Miorine looked like she was wrestling with her (recently purchased) sack of sandy loam soil. She kept a cool, even expression but was unmistakably struggling. She widened her stance, planting her feet firmly on the ground while she lowered to a squat. She seemed to be trying to straighten her back while lifting up the sack, and honestly it looked like she was going to lift it clean off the shelf when she lost balance and looked right about to fall—

“Miorine!”

—over.

It all happened so fast, but Suletta was faster. The sack fell to the greenhouse floor with a thick, muffled ‘thud’ and Miorine was about to follow suit, but not before Suletta was able to grab a handful of Miorine’s uniform—giving it a firm tug—the action of which tipped their balance to the opposite direction, back towards Suletta who side-stepped at just the right moment and prevented a collision with Miorine’s most recent tomato propagations. 

Imagine having to pick up all those leca balls!

Miorine had crashed backwards into Suletta—knocking the air out of Suletta’s lungs at the moment of impact. 

“M-Miorine-san? Are you okay?”

Miorine groaned, head falling backwards onto Suletta’s shoulder with closed eyes. “Are the plants okay?”

Suletta giggled. Of course, plants first. “Yes.”  A little timidly, she brought her arm forward, settling her palm over Miorine’s forearm. She felt Miorine lean backwards towards her, felt a small hand brush over her own. 

And then she was gone, stepping forward and away from Suletta’s space, but soon after she was turning to face her. Miorine’s hand was around Suletta’s wrist, pulling her towards the discarded sack. “Help me lift the sack.” 

Suletta smiled, “of course!”

—--

III.

“She really is at the gym!” 

“Told ya,” Nuno flipped over his stack of paperwork, doing a round of final checks. “What brings you here, Martin?”

“Paperwork that needs the president’s signing,” he waved a brown envelope towards Nuno. “Finished the purchase order for next week’s pop-up booth.”

“Marketing materials?”

“Yup,” Martin nodded. “For the printouts. You?”

“Liquidations of last week’s prototyping expenses.” Nuno looked towards Miorine.  She was on the stair climber, looking just about ready to pass out. “Apparently we gotta wait til she finishes her last round of forty seven steps.”

“That’s such an odd and arbitrary number,” Martin scratched his head in confusion. “You know she’s been exercising in her office now and again, it’s a bit out of nowhere but good on her.”

“Yeah,” Nuno agreed. “Maybe she’s been hanging out with Suletta too much.”

Martin laughed kindly. “Haven’t we all?”

—

IV.

Miorine slipped into the Earth House dormitories, considerate enough not to make too much noise and wake anyone. Her chosen work-out schedule meant late night returns,  but she found something peaceful in empty hallways at night—as if time was suspended in empty spaces meant for crowds.

The common area was dimly lit. It was cold, which means everyone had likely gone up to their rooms a while now, but the ambient light was enough for her to notice Suletta’s crumpled form, peacefully asleep on their worn-down sofa. Her face softened—more so than usual now that there was no one else to see. 

She waited up for her again. 

“Suletta,” Miorine said in a clipped voice. Someone else might have said it was cold, but Suletta knew better. “You’re going to get ill if you keep falling asleep down here.”

Suletta’s response was an unintelligible and nearly alien-sounding whine. It made Miorine smile a little, made her eyes soft and pitiful and tender.

Miorine sat by the edge of the couch. She brushed Suletta’s hair back. “Suletta?”

She got even less of a response this time: just a grunt. Miorine got up and walked towards one of the side-cabinets to reach for a blanket. 

(Which may or may not have been her idea to install, given Suletta’s sleeping habits.)

—

V.

“Whoa! You’re doing it!”

She couldn’t help the self-satisfied smirk, not after all the work she’d put into her lifting form. Suletta was on-standby, ready to assist at any moment, but Miorine knew at this point she’d manage. She hoisted the sack of loam soil from outside the greenhouse, took a few tentative steps towards her potting area, and dropped it onto the ground without so much as a sweat.

That was a lie. She sweated a lot, and she thought her knees were going to give, but still.

“Have you been working out so you can do more work in the green house?” Suletta looked over curiously. Miorine tried not to gape at how easily she had picked up the next sack, slung it over her shoulder, and casually walked into the greenhouse before slamming it down onto the sack she had just moved herself. 

“Somehow, yes, that’s one of them.”

“Well physical fitness is a great goal to have!” Suletta was nodding enthusiastically. “Maybe I can add having a gym-buddy to my bucket list. But that means you’re going to have to eat more, which means—“

“I don’t think I’m ready for the farm-fresh eggs,” Miorine shook her head. 

“But they’re so good!”

“You’ve been trying to convince me for the past six months, I’m not going to give in now.”

“Miorine-san!” Suletta whined. Adorably. “What’s life without having tried a cheese omelette?”

“Been okay so far for me, now let’s get the next sack.” She was hiding her smile.

Suletta grumbled, “have you rich people ever really lived.”

—

VI.

“Another five sets of forty-seven?” 

“Yup,” Miorine set down her gym-bag. She just finished with the dumbbells and was about to begin with the stair climber. It’s been almost two months since she started her oddly-timed exercise routines and by now the rest of Earth House had fallen into the rhythm. If there was anything that needed urgent signing, Martin or Aliya would drop by right before she started with the climber. Today it was Martin, with an unpleasantly thick ledger of documents. Miorine eyed them tiredly. “Are these our sponsorship proposals?”

“The ones from last Thursday, with the edits you suggested.” 

“Leave them here, I’ll look over them when I’m done.” 

“You sure?”

“Yes, thank you for the trouble.” Miorine looked at the time.  “I’ll probably be back late.”

“I’ll try to convince Suletta to turn in then,” he offered.

“Don’t bother,” Miorine shook her head. “You know how she is.”

He chuckled. She was right.

— VII.

The documents he left were definitely more than she could take on for one evening, and before she knew it, it was fifteen-minutes past two. Miorine almost never stayed up later than midnight, and it irked her to think about how groggy she would be in classes the following day. She walked briskly into the Earth House’s common area, mumbling about how she should have foregone her workout given how much needed to be reviewed for the sponsorship proposal. She felt around blindly for the light switch but stopped—freezing in place when she remembered that it was god-knows-what-time in the morning, and that, likely… 

Yes—there she was. 

Snoring lightly on the sofa, waiting for her to come back. Miorine would try and try to convince her not to, but she was starting to think that Suletta liked the way she woke her up whenever she returned. 

Suletta habitually fell asleep on the couch. And as she’d done whenever she’d catch her down here, Miorine sat at the edge of the couch, brushing back Suletta’s hair and allowing herself a moment to just… look. “Suletta,” she said softly. Not enough to wake her, just enough to satisfy her longing to say her name. 

It was cold down here, and their sofa wasn’t exactly made of luxury upholstery. Nervously, Miorine set down her bag. She got up, steadied her footing, and slid her arms behind Suletta’s neck and legs. With a deep breath, she hoisted her up as steadily as she could. Miorine trembled a little, and wobbled dangerously back and forth. But she did it! Soon enough they were steady, and she was taking tentative steps backwards. 

Suletta was in her arms, stirring now and again, but turning closer towards the warmth of Miorine’s chest, nuzzling into her neck. She felt herself flush fiercely up to her ears. 

No backing down now. 

Afterall, this is exactly what she’s been working out for all this time.

With a determined stride, she made her way up the forty-seven steps from the couch to Suletta’s bedroom, where she would finally—finally—tuck her in. 

--

fin

--

A/N: My very first Suletta and Miorine fic! The show is tearing my heart to pieces, so now I cope by bringing you fluff where nothing goes wrong and everything is okay. :-) Can Miorine really carry Suletta? Well in my fanfic world she can lmfaooooo I also know NOTHING about working out and I have 2% knowledge buff about plants c/o of my partner but that's it I'm sorry

[topsteelgymweights]

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By choosing the right dumbbells will help you to perform best workout to reach your fitness goal.

[me-uglypretty]

Why’s are dumbbells so expensive 😭

Because they need to make sure that those bells don’t ring. No? Okay.

Get them on discount or try finding a good used ones! Got mine at 200+ (which is a lot in my currency). It was 2 sets of 10kg dumbbells which weights can be adjusted. It was the classic type with rubber plates but that shit started breaking apart on that same month lmao.

[raquelgutierrez02]

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[integrating-sphere]

Abstract The durability of rubber products is significantly affected by their exposure to environmental factors, particularly ozone, which induces cracking and degradation. This paper explores the process of accelerating rubber aging using the ozone test chamber, specifically the LISUN OTC-150A Ozone Test Chamber, and how controlled environmental conditions can simulate the long-term effects of ozone on rubber materials. By replicating the ozone-rich atmosphere, the chamber allows for faster testing, helping industries evaluate the longevity and durability of rubber products. This paper will delve into the technical specifications of the LISUN OTC-150A, the test procedures, and provide data on how various rubber samples respond under these conditions. 1. Introduction Ozone (O₃) is a reactive gas found in the atmosphere, which, even in small concentrations, can cause the oxidative degradation of elastomers. Rubber materials, when exposed to ozone, undergo chemical reactions that weaken their structural integrity, leading to cracking and eventual failure. The need for accurate testing methods to predict the longevity of rubber products in real-world conditions has led to the development of equipment such as the ozone test chamber. The LISUN OTC-150A Ozone Test Chamber offers a controlled environment to simulate these aging processes in a shorter time frame, allowing manufacturers and researchers to evaluate the impact of ozone on different rubber compositions under accelerated aging conditions. This article provides a detailed analysis of the test chamber’s working mechanism and its application in the rubber industry. 2. Principle of Ozone Aging in Rubber When rubber is exposed to ozone, it undergoes a process known as ozonolysis. The reaction occurs on the surface of the material, leading to molecular chain scission and the formation of cracks, particularly in parts of the rubber that are stretched. The degree of damage is influenced by factors such as the ozone concentration, temperature, humidity, and the duration of exposure. The ozone test chamber recreates these conditions, allowing the rapid aging of rubber materials by: • Maintaining specific ozone concentrations that simulate the exposure rubber products would face over years of usage. • Controlling environmental conditions, such as temperature and humidity, to replicate real-world atmospheric conditions. • Simulating stretching or elongation of rubber samples to observe crack formation in stressed areas. 3. LISUN OTC-150A Ozone Test Chamber The LISUN OTC-150A Ozone Test Chamber is designed for accelerated ozone aging tests in a controlled environment. The chamber is equipped with state-of-the-art ozone generation and concentration monitoring systems that ensure precision in the testing process. Below are some of its key features: • Ozone concentration control range: 10-500 ppm, ensuring a wide range of testing scenarios. • Temperature control range: 0°C to +60°C, suitable for various aging test conditions. • Sample positioning: Static and dynamic sample holders to test both unstressed and stressed rubber. • Environmental control: The chamber offers humidity control and the ability to maintain stable temperature and pressure conditions during the test. OTC-015A_Ozone Test Chamber 4. Experimental Procedure The following steps outline the test procedure using the LISUN OTC-150A Ozone Test Chamber: 4.1. Sample Preparation Rubber samples are prepared in accordance with international standards such as ISO 1431-1. The samples are typically strips or dumbbell-shaped pieces cut from rubber sheets. For dynamic tests, the samples are mounted on frames that allow them to be stretched to a defined elongation percentage. 4.2. Ozone Exposure The chamber is set to maintain a specific ozone concentration, typically between 20 and 50 ppm for rubber testing. The samples are placed inside the chamber for durations ranging from 24 to 168 hours, depending on the aging requirements. The temperature inside the chamber is maintained at 40°C, a common condition for accelerated aging. 4.3. Observation and Data Recording After exposure, the samples are examined under a microscope to assess the formation of surface cracks. The number, depth, and length of the cracks are recorded, and their progression is plotted over time to study the aging kinetics. 5. Results and Discussion The following data (Table 1) represent typical results obtained from testing two types of rubber, natural rubber (NR) and styrene-butadiene rubber (SBR), under the same ozone concentration of 30 ppm at 40°C for different exposure times. Sample Type Ozone Concentration (ppm) Temperature (°C) Exposure Time (Hours) Crack Initiation (Hours) Average Crack Length (mm) Natural Rubber (NR) 30 40 24 10 0.3 Natural Rubber (NR) 30 40 48 10 0.8 Natural Rubber (NR) 30 40 72 10 1.2 SBR 30 40 24 12 0.2 SBR 30 40 48 12 0.5 SBR 30 40 72 12 1 Discussion From the data above, it is clear that natural rubber tends to initiate cracks earlier than SBR under the same test conditions, which suggests that SBR has better resistance to ozone-induced aging. The progression of crack length with time shows a linear increase in both materials, although NR experiences more severe cracking compared to SBR. Additionally, the ability to control the ozone concentration in the LISUN OTC-150A Ozone Test Chamber ensures that different rubber types can be tested under identical conditions, providing reliable comparisons. The chamber’s dynamic sample holder also allows for a more realistic simulation of real-world conditions where rubber is stretched, enhancing the validity of the test results. 6. Conclusion The use of the ozone test chamber, such as the LISUN OTC-150A Ozone Test Chamber, enables the accelerated aging of rubber materials in a controlled environment. This testing process is crucial for predicting the long-term durability of rubber products exposed to ozone. By simulating years of ozone exposure within days, manufacturers and researchers can assess the quality and life expectancy of rubber under various environmental conditions. The data presented in this study highlight the differing responses of natural rubber and SBR to ozone exposure, with SBR showing greater resistance to ozone-induced cracking. The precise control offered by the LISUN OTC-150A ensures consistent and reproducible results, making it an invaluable tool for rubber aging studies. References ISO 1431-1: Rubber, vulcanized or thermoplastic – Resistance to ozone cracking. LISUN Group. (n.d.). Ozone Test Chamber: LISUN OTC-150A Ozone Test Chamber | Ozone Aging Test Chamber. Retrieved from LISUN Group. This paper has demonstrated how the ozone test chamber plays an essential role in simulating and accelerating the ozone aging process, providing insights critical for the rubber industry in ensuring the durability and performance of their products. Read the full article