#Key West Update

[medicinemane]

I'm not fucking listening to a video on geopolitics if you're gonna but dramatic fucking generic as shitty movie music in the background

This isn't Batman trying to figure out what the Joker is up to, this is real world shit going on, and I'm fairly familiar with the subject and you just happened to have a detail I don't know as much about in your title

So I'm like cool, let me learn about what's going on with that

Well I'm clearly not gonna with your shitty video. You're a backwards clickbaiting moron trying to drum up investment using techniques I think are cheap and bland in even movies, so why would I want them here?

You absolute pissant, you fucking stain on society, you're a worthless little idiot with nothing useful to say that's trying to turn important shit into entertainment and I think you suck ass

Fucking hell, imagine I talked about the US economy while playing bad dramatic music in the background, it would be stupid

I clearly know more about this than you, for an american civilian with no special access to information, I'm probably one of the better informed people on this subject. Your yank ass can fuck off cause it's really only people actually from the area and actual professionals that are gonna know more than me on this

I am actually annoyed, and I'm just annoyed by every last fucking thing being turned into entertainment by random little internet parasite

[latrespada]

ᯓ ✈︎ apple of his envy

You arrive home late, far past the promised dinner time, only to find Caleb soaking in a warm bath. As you approach, you notice his expression, even in sleep, is etched with a scowl of annoyance. Gently, you bend down to touch his cheek, but before you can, he pulls you into the bath with an unrelenting grip. His arms are tight around you, his voice thick with tension and a hint of desperation, as if he had feared you wouldn’t return, or worse, that you had chosen someone else over him. In the steamy embrace, he reminds you with unspoken intensity where you truly belong—by his side. Even if it means sinking together into a bath swirling with sensual, envious passion.

lads caleb x reader

warnings : semi-jealousy, bath sex, bathtub sex, possessive sex, angst and hurt/comfort

6.5k words

rated : m

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62700367

A/N: This was a bit tricky to write—I wanted to make the positioning clear, but bathtubs are surprisingly complicated! Also, I couldn’t help but notice how much you all enjoyed the dry-humping fic. I’m really happy you liked the last one.

You exit West Garden Station and sprint toward home, your heart pounding with worry and a tinge of fear. Thoughts race through your mind, colliding in a cacophony of guilt and dread. You had promised to be home before dinner, but the day spiraled out of control. You meant to take a short break from your reports, but one thing led to another, and now it’s nearing midnight—four hours past when you were supposed to be home.

The air feels heavy, thunder rumbling ominously in the distance as the clouds above flash shades of purple. A storm is brewing, but it’s nothing compared to the one waiting for you at home. You know Caleb doesn’t mind when life gets in the way of plans, but failing to keep him updated? That’s what sets him off. You push your legs harder, running as though you can somehow outrun his disappointment.

You finally reach your apartment complex, breathless, your chest tightening as you fumble for your keys. Your trembling hands make quick work of unlocking the door, and you step inside, greeted by darkness. The faint aroma of red-braised tofu lingers in the air—a reminder of the dinner you missed. The silence is suffocating as you pull out your phone, using its flashlight to guide your way.

The living room is empty, with not a single light left on. The kitchen has been cleaned, and the only evidence of its earlier use is a faint warmth in the air. You move toward the bedroom, kicking off your boots, socks, hunter’s vest, and belt as you go. It’s eerily untouched, and the bed is still neatly made, save for a few wrinkles, as though someone had briefly sat there before moving on.

The bathroom door creaks slightly as you push it open, and your eyes fall on a shadowy figure reclining in the tub. Your hand searches for the light switch, and when you flick it on, the scene becomes clear. Caleb lies there, his head tilted back, a towel draped over his face. His arms rest along the sides of the tub, and his knees break the surface of the water. He looks like a marble statue, serene yet heavy with unspoken emotions.

“Light… off,” he mumbles, his voice low and flat.

“You want me to turn off the light?” you ask cautiously.

“Off,” he snaps, louder this time.

“Alright, alright,” you say, raising your hands in surrender. Turning off the light and stepping out into the hallway, your heart is still racing. After rummaging in the kitchen, you return with a candle and a lighter. The faint glow casts soft, flickering shadows on the tiled walls as you enter the bathroom again.

Caleb hasn’t moved, still draped in his dead-like pose, but the candlelight softens the edges of his silhouette. “I brought a candle,” you say gently, placing it on the counter. “Just to give you some lighting and mood for your relaxation.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths, but you think you catch the faintest twitch of his lips—a subtle acknowledgment of your gesture.

“I’m not relaxed,” Caleb says, his voice low, etched with an almost threatening seriousness.

“Why are you in the bath then?” you ask softly, sitting on the edge of the tub, your concern growing with every second.

“I’m stressed… thought this would help. It’s what you do.”

“Stressed? Why’s that?” you ask, leaning forward to touch his cheek. But before your fingers can graze his skin, Caleb’s hand shoots out, gripping your wrist and pulling you into the tub with him.

Water splashes everywhere as you struggle against his hold, your clothes heavy and clinging to your skin. Caleb’s grip is unyielding, his strength pinning you down. Finally, you push yourself free, shoving his shoulders with a force that makes his back hit the porcelain edge. “What the hell, Caleb?” you shout, water dripping from your soaked hair.

Caleb doesn’t react immediately. He sits there, his head tilted back, the towel still covering his face, ignoring your anger.

Grabbing the towel, you hit his face with it. “I said, what the—”

“I know what you said,” Caleb interrupts sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. He pulls the towel off his face, his eyes locking onto yours with a raw intensity. “You were gone for so long. I didn’t know if you were coming back. You said you’d be here hours ago.” His voice wavers slightly as he sits up, his hands suddenly gripping your face, forcing your foreheads together. His breath is hot, his touch desperate. “I thought you’d finally left. That you didn’t need me anymore. Or maybe… maybe you found someone else too…” He stops, his words choking in his throat. Instead, he rubs his forehead against yours, the motion rough and unsettling.

“Stop it,” you groan, pushing him away.

He falls back slightly, his hand covering his face as if shielding himself from his own thoughts. “Were you with Zayne?” he asks, his voice quieter but laced with suspicion.

“No,” you answer firmly.

“Your colleague. Did he drag you into his work again? You know he shouldn’t need you for everything.”

“No,” you repeat, your patience wearing thin.

“Were you hired as some overnight bodyguard?”

“Enough,” you snap, your tone cutting through the room like a whip.

“Enough?” Caleb laughs bitterly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Am I not enough?”

You try to stand, to pull yourself out of the tub, but Caleb grabs you again, his hold growing tighter. He drags you back into the water, his desperation palpable.

“Caleb, I’m still freaking dressed!” you exclaim, trying to wrestle free.

“Am I not enough?” he repeats, his voice trembling, his eyes searching yours for answers you can’t give. “Answer me!”

“Caleb…” you groan, prying at his hands, but his grip doesn’t waver.

Then, without warning, he places a hand over your mouth and the other on your back, dipping you into the water. It’s not forceful, not meant to harm—there’s no malice in his actions. Instead, it feels like he’s trying to calm himself, to ground his spiraling emotions. He pulls you back up moments later, your hair slicked back, water streaming down your face as his half-lidded eyes bore into yours.

“I was waiting,” he whispers, his voice raw and broken. “And while I waited, I thought maybe I could distract myself. Played with myself. But every time I tried to think of you, to feel close to you… my mind kept drifting to the idea that you’d found another home.”

“Caleb, I was stuck at work,” you say softly, your voice trembling with sorrow.

“For that long?” he asks, his tone teetering between hurt and disbelief.

You don’t reply. There’s no excuse you can offer or words that would improve it.

“I thought you’d found someone else to hold,” he continues, his voice barely audible now. “Someone else to need. To cook for you.” He laughs bitterly, the sound hollow. Dropping his head onto your chest, he nuzzles into the exposed skin of your cleavage, his breath warm against your damp skin. “Am I really that replaceable?” he asks, his voice breaking, his vulnerability spilling out like the water around you.

As you press his head against your chest, cradling him, your head resting on his, there’s a quiet understanding in the shared silence. His arms snake around your thighs, shifting your legs to fit snugly against his lap, grounding you both in this moment.

“No, you’re not replaceable,” you murmur, your voice soft yet steady. “But even if I tell you that, I know you won’t believe me just like that.” Your fingers stroke his damp hair as you ask, “What can I do to assure you?”

Caleb tilts his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an almost childlike vulnerability. “What’s the most important thing I need from you?” he asks, his tone imploring, as though willing you to understand without him saying it outright.

Your brows knit together as you hesitate. “To own me?” you offer, unsure, the words trembling out of your mouth.

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head before leaning back, still keeping you anchored on his lap. His hands rest loosely on your hips, but his gaze is intense, flickering between the water and your face. He brushes his wet hair back, the strands sticking to his forehead, his usually sharp features softened by the dull ache in his eyes. You’re transfixed, your fingers instinctively tracing the curve of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, the swell of his lips. His mouth is slightly swollen, perhaps from his teeth pressing into it—whether out of frustration, longing, or anxiety, you can’t tell.

Caleb catches your hand, kissing it with surprising tenderness. “To feel you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over your knuckles again. “To know you need me.” His voice is raw, the words carrying an unspoken weight.

He shifts beneath you, his legs spreading wider to adjust your position as he pulls you closer, to him. His hands are firm yet reverent. “Though this feeling isn’t the most important thing to me,” he says, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “it’s one I don’t mind… as long as your warmth is on me—and me only.”

You’re hyper-aware of his body beneath yours, the press of his erection evident even through the layers of damp fabric. The friction sends a jolt through you as you instinctively move, attempting to kneel, but your movements falter, slipping against the slick surface of the tub.

“Let me help you,” Caleb says softly, his hands steadying your waist. His fingers find the waistband of your soaked pants. “Stand up for me,” he coaxes, his voice gentle yet commanding.

You rise slowly, your gaze never leaving his as he unbuttons, unzips, and peels the fabric away with deliberate care. The water clings to your skin, droplets cascading down, some splashing onto Caleb’s face as he maintains unwavering eye contact. With a quiet determination, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his touch grazing your thighs. You lift one leg, then the other, stepping out of the discarded clothing, which lands with a wet thud on the bathroom floor.

Caleb’s hands trail up your legs, his fingers barely grazing your most sensitive areas before sliding beneath your blouse. His hands are warm despite the cool air, and they skim over your stomach before finding their way under your bra, cupping your breast with tenderness. His thumb brushes over your skin, igniting goosebumps in its wake.

“Please,” he murmurs, his voice trembling with emotion, “let me feel you in ways words can’t express.”

You drop to your knees, water sloshing over the tub’s edge, drenching the tiled floor in rippling streaks. Your fingers tremble as they grip the porcelain rim, your body leaning forward until your forehead rests against Caleb’s. His warm breath fans across your skin, mingling with the steamy heat from the bathwater. His hand lingers over the curve of your breast, his touch equal parts grounding and electrifying. Time seems to stop for a moment, the world outside the bathroom dissolving into the sound of rain tapping insistently against the windowpane.

Your hand wraps around his, gently tugging it free from beneath your soaked blouse and bra, guiding it upward until his calloused palm cradles your cheek. His thumb grazes your bottom lip, tracing it with a tender slowness that belies the tension between you. Your lips part under his touch, and before you can think better of it, he closes the gap, his mouth crashing against yours with unrestrained hunger. The kiss is messy, teeth grazing as his lips claim yours, an edge of desperation bleeding into every movement.

His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling it slightly before his tongue sweeps over the sting, soothing and coaxing. His hands slip to your back, the broad span of his palms pressing you against him, molding your bodies together. Your arms loop around his neck in a frantic embrace, pulling him so close it feels as though you might never let go. The friction of your lower halves grazing, ignites a fire that licks at every nerve ending, an ache building deep and insistent.

Caleb pulls away suddenly, leaving you breathless, his chest heaving as he struggles to regain control. His hands find your hips, pushing you back until your spine meets the cold, slick surface of the tub. You let out a soft gasp at the sudden chill, your legs laying open as though of their own accord, your knees resting against the tub’s edges. The candlelight flickers across his face, half glowing warm and golden, the other lost in the inky shadows cast by the storm outside. The duality of light and darkness mirrors the push and pull between the gentleness in his touch and the raw, carnal need in his gaze.

His eyes trail over you, lingering on the translucent fabric of your blouse clinging to your skin. The faint outline of your bra beneath it seems to taunt him, his jaw tightening as his restraint frays. Slowly, almost reverently, his lips find yours again, softer this time but no less intense. His hands move with a deliberate urgency, tracing the soaked fabric to the buttons that run down your front. With a sharp tug, they give way, scattering across the floor with muted clinks, the sound swallowed by the storm’s distant rumble.

The blouse slips from your shoulders, the wet fabric sticking briefly before it’s discarded to the water enveloping you. Caleb doesn’t stop, his hands finding the delicate straps of your bra. Frustration flashes in his eyes as his fingers fumble with the clasp, his impatience winning out. He hooks his fingers under the straps and pulls, the lace and elastic giving way with a sharp snap. The ruined garment joins the growing pile of discarded clothing, leaving your skin bare beneath his gaze.

His breath catches, and his eyes drink you in with a reverence that sends a shiver racing down your spine. He lowers himself onto you, his weight pressing you deeper into the curve of the tub. The contact is intoxicating, and his warmth bleeding into your skin as your legs near around his hips, anchoring him to you. The water churns around you, soap bubbles bursting and clinging to your bodies as you move together, the rhythm driven by a shared, unspoken need.

You grip his shoulders, your nails biting into his slick skin as his lips trail from your mouth to your jaw and down the curve of your neck. The storm outside roars louder, the thunder echoing through the room, but it’s distant compared to the pounding of your heart, the ragged sounds of your breaths mingling with his. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered moan feels like a fuse burning faster, drawing you closer to the edge of something neither of you can control.

"Caleb…" you breathe out, your voice trembling as his lips trail along your jawline, their warmth lingering before descending to your neck. His mouth moves with purpose, licking at your sensitive skin before returning to claim your lips. His tongue dances with yours, the intimacy deepening with every heated second.

Your fingers find their way into his damp hair, grasping at it as though it’s the only anchor you have. He pulls away briefly, his eyes dark with desire as he takes one of your hands. Without breaking eye contact, he brings two of your fingers to his mouth, his tongue swirling around them sensually. The heat of his mouth and the slickness of his saliva send shivers through you. After a few lingering seconds, he releases them, your fingers now glistening.

Without thinking, you bring them to your lips, smearing the saliva across them like a makeshift balm, feeling the moisture cool in the air. Your gaze flickers to him, your expression daring and full of intent. Slowly, you shift yourself over, moving with purpose. Your knees find ground on the porcelain base as you lean forward, your torso arched enticingly. Your free hand grips the edge of the tub tightly for support, while your hips tilt back, pressing your rear firmly against Caleb’s groin.

The anticipation is electric as you use the slickness of his saliva to guide your hand under you, seeking out your sweet spot. Meanwhile, Caleb teases at your entrance with the tip of his length, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

"Mmnh," you moan softly, biting your lip as the ache of desire builds.

For a moment, both of you hover in this space of mutual teasing, pushing each other closer to the edge without fully giving in. You can feel yourself growing wetter, your body’s response undeniable as you prepare yourself for him.

Finally, your hand pulls away from your sweet spot, and you grip the opposite side of the tub, bracing yourself. Caleb wastes no time, his hands steadying your hips as he slowly slides himself inside. The touch is perfect, the heat overwhelming, and a low grunt escapes his lips at the sensation of you enveloping him.

"Nnngh," you whimper, your head tilting forward as his hips begin to move. He starts slowly, almost experimentally, before gradually picking up speed. The rhythm of his movements becomes more deliberate, his body pressing against yours with every thrust.

Your soapy hands begin to slip against the tub’s edge, the lack of grip threatening to throw you off balance. Sensing your struggle, Caleb tilts over your back, his chest pressing against your back, his heat enveloping you entirely. His hands cover yours, his fingers slipping between to lock them in place, giving you the stability you need.

The two of you move together in perfect harmony, the water rippling and splashing around you, the air thick with the sounds of pleasure and desire. The combination of his touch and the feeling of him inside you drives you to the brink, your senses overwhelmed in the most intoxicating way.

With a grip that is almost trembling, Caleb pulls your hair to one side, his fingers threading through the damp strands, only to find their spot again on your hands. His breath is warm and unsteady against your ear. He exhales a low, shaky sound that makes your stomach twist. His lips brush your skin, but he doesn’t kiss you—not yet. Instead, he lingers, his breathing heavier than before, like he’s trying to steady himself. Like he’s battling something in his head.

“You kept me waiting,” he whispers, the words coming out slower than usual, his voice laced with something quiet but raw. “I thought—” He stops himself, cutting off whatever thought had started to spill.

His lips press to the curve of your shoulder, his kisses softer than usual, more hesitant, like he’s savoring every inch of you, trying to remind himself you’re still here. His hips rock forward, slow and deliberate, and the movement forces your legs to spread wider, your back arching into him instinctively. But even as he moves, even as he drowns himself in you, there’s a tightness in the way he holds you.

You turn your head slightly, catching his gaze through your peripheral vision. His eyes are shadowed, darkened by more than just the dim candlelight. There’s something in them that makes your chest ache—something vulnerable, something afraid.

“It’s not like that,” you whisper, knowing exactly where his mind has taken him.

Caleb exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, his grip tightens around your hands. "You say that now," he mutters, pressing his forehead against the side of your head. "But people get tired. They move on. They find something— someone —better. More exciting. More… necessary ." His voice dips on that last word, almost like it pains him to say it aloud.

You turn your head fully this time, your nose brushing against his cheek, and he closes his eyes as if it’s too much to look at you right now.

“I don’t want to be left behind,” he admits, so quietly it’s almost swallowed by the rain hitting the window.

Your chest tightens, your throat suddenly thick with emotion. With both your hands still locked in his, you squeeze, trying to ground him, trying to reassure him in the only way he’ll let you. “You won’t be,” you whisper, and you mean it.

Caleb finally opens his eyes, searching yours as if testing the weight of your words.

"Prove it," he murmurs, his voice no longer commanding, no longer tainted with jealousy—just desperate. Just pleading. "Stay right here. Just… let me feel you.”

Letting go of your fingers, his arms envelop you in a way that feels both possessive and desperate. The heat of his breath fans over your neck as he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear before trailing down to your shoulder.

You can feel it in the way his fingers dig into your skin, in the way his body molds so perfectly against yours as he spoons you from behind. One hand cups your breast, kneading, his thumb rolling over your nipple, sending small shocks of pleasure down your spine. The other dips lower, fingertips teasing over your sweet spot, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that match the lazy, deep rhythm of his thrusts inside you.

A shiver runs through you, not just from the pleasure but from the way he’s holding you—as if he’s afraid to let go.

“Caleb…” you breathe, his name slipping from your lips like a plea, a prayer.

“Please…” his voice is hoarse, strained, “keep—” he groans, his thrusts stuttering slightly before he regains control, “keep saying my name.”

His movements are slow but insistent, his lips never leaving your skin, as if grounding himself in you, as if needing the reassurance that you’re still here.

You moan again, letting his name tumble from your lips like a mantra, and you feel his breath hitch against your neck. His grip on you tightens, his thrusts pushing just a little deeper, his fingers pressing just a little harder.

But then, you feel it—his hesitation.

The momentary pause in his rhythm, the way his lips linger on your skin like he wants to say something but can’t. It’s in the way his fingers tremble slightly against you, the way his breath falters, the way his arms tighten around you just a little too much.

Your heart clenches, the realization settling in.

He’s scared.

Not of losing you physically, no—that’s not the kind of fear that grips him. It’s something deeper. The thought of someone else replacing him, someone else becoming the one you turn to, the one you whisper your secrets to, the one whose name you say when you need comfort.

The one who matters to you.

You shift slightly, pressing your body even closer against him as if trying to reassure him without words. Your hand moves to cover the one he has on your chest, fingers intertwining, holding him there.

“I’m here,” you whisper, barely audible, but he hears it. You know he does because his body stills for just a second before he exhales, a deep, shaky breath against your skin.

And then, he moves again—faster now, rougher, his hands leaving your breast and sweet spot to grip your hip, holding you in place as he thrusts harder.

As if trying to prove something.

As if trying to remind you that it’s his name you say.

That it’s his touch you crave.

That it’s him . Only him .

As your remaining hand slips off the tub's edge, it instinctively reaches behind you, cradling Caleb's head against your shoulder with a tender yet unyielding grip. The other arm remains steadfast, covering the arm Caleb has wrapped around your chest, holding him close as the warmth of the water and the intensity of the moment envelop you both. Your body begins to rock back and forth, a gentle yet insistent motion that helps Caleb deepen his penetration, the sensation sending shivers down you.

Caleb's teeth sink into your shoulder, the bite hard enough to make you hiss, a sharp intake of breath that mingles with the sound of water splashing around you. It's as if the deepwater waves are engulfing you both, pulling you under with their relentless rhythm. As Caleb leans back onto his side of the bathtub, his arms release their hold on your body, only to wrap around your neck, pulling you into a tight, almost suffocating embrace.

You find yourself practically sitting on his lap, your body tilted back against his shoulder, his arms tightening around your neck like a vice. Your hands grasp the edge of the tub once more, and you begin to bounce up and down, the motion sending waves of pleasure through your body. Caleb's whimper of "Fuck…" is music to your ears, a testament to the intensity of the moment.

Your moans are stifled by the chokehold, but you manage to gasp out a few words, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. One of Caleb's arms releases its grip on your neck, only to find its way to your sweet spot once more, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You take control of the penetration, moving up and down with a frenzied intensity, while Caleb focuses on making you feel good, his other arm still wrapped tightly around your neck.

As he presses his lips against your ear, his breath hot and erratic, his words slurred with desire, "This is what I want," he groans. "I… want us to be one…" The sentiment sends a shiver down your spine, and you continue to bounce, going even faster, your body straining towards release.

Your words are barely intelligible, but Caleb finds your struggle seductive, "Ask again?" he whispers, his voice a low, husky growl.

You manage to gasp out a few words, "Tou…ch…me…" your saliva dripping from your lips as you point to your breasts, "Plea…se."

Caleb's arm releases the chokehold, massaging your breasts with a gentle yet insistent touch, sending you into a frenzy of pleasure. You turn your head, whispering sweet nothings into Caleb's ear, "Yours… Always yours…" The words seem to send him over the edge, and he sighs, his body relaxing into the moment.

As you continue to move, a final kiss lingers on Caleb’s lips before you shift forward, your hands plunging into the warm water, pressing against the smooth base of the tub. Your body arches instinctively, your back curving as if offering yourself to him, the motion a silent plea, a shared rhythm that neither of you can resist.

The water sways and splashes around you, cascading against the porcelain, a steady pulse in tune with your bodies. Your hips roll and press against his, the friction igniting every nerve between you. Caleb’s breath grows heavier, a low, husky whimper slipping from his lips as his fingers tighten around the tub’s edge.

You glance over your shoulder, catching sight of him—his head tilted back, his throat exposed, an image of surrender and control all at once. His eyes are barely open, dark lashes fluttering, yet within the narrow slits, a glimmer shines through. He’s watching you, devouring the way your body moves, the way your lips part as you stifle your sounds of pleasure.

There is something unspoken between you, something deeper than mere desire. It’s in the way his fingers twitch as if resisting the urge to reach for you again, in the way his breath hitches when you shift just right. The water, the heat, the tension—it all builds into something near unbearable, an intensity neither of you can escape.

You face forward again, and the sound of Caleb’s fingers tapping—no, clawing—at the tub’s edges fills the air, a silent display of restraint unraveling. The water ripples around you, heated waves splashing against your skin as you move with growing urgency, your hips rolling and pressing down in time with Caleb’s eager thrusts.

“Haa… ha…” you breathe, your voice breaking into the humid air, swallowed by the rising tension between you.

Then, a shift—your body twisting as you turn to face him, your legs spreading to straddle him completely. The moment your gaze locks onto his, you slow just enough to let him take in the sight of you. Your hands slide up your cheeks, fingers tangling into your damp hair, lifting it, teasing, as your hips begin to circle in slow, hypnotic rolls against his lap. Every movement is deliberate, each sway of your hips a silent dance meant for him alone.

Caleb watches, utterly mesmerized. His breath hitches, and his lips are slightly parted as if he is unable to find the words to describe what you’re doing to him. His fingers twitch at the edges of the tub before finally releasing their grip. Instead, his hands find your waist, strong fingers digging into your skin as he matches your rhythm. His own urgency is evident in the way he guides you—rougher, more desperate.

Your own hands glide down from your hair, trailing over your collarbone, down your chest, teasing, fondling, reveling in the sensation. Your damp strands of hair cling to your face, framing your half-lidded eyes, and through the veil of tangled locks, you see Caleb watching—spellbound, lost in you.

The water sloshes violently against the porcelain, the sound a mere backdrop to the intoxicating symphony of your mingled breaths and whispered gasps. Your fingers find the tub’s edge again, gripping for leverage as your movements become wilder, and faster. Caleb meets you with equal fervor, his hands holding you tighter, guiding you, urging you.

Your head tilts back, and your wet, unruly hair cascades over your shoulders, sticking to your skin in dark waves. The feeling builds, winding tightly inside you like a fire threatening to consume you both.

You lean back, letting the warm water envelop you, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes flutter shut, and your hands reach blindly through the rippling depths, searching for Caleb. The moment your fingers brush against his skin, he shifts, adjusting above you, the weight of his presence pressing closer.

Then, the pressure tightens—Caleb submerges, following you into the water’s embrace. The world above grows muted, distant, leaving only the sound of your racing heart and the rush of bubbles breaking between you. His lips find yours beneath the surface, soft yet insistent, melding against yours in an urgent kiss. His hands slide down your body, fingers finding your thigh and pulling you against him.

Even beneath the water, his movements are fluid, and precise—a rhythm that sends ripples through you both. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, anchoring yourself to him as your bodies move in perfect sync, the weightlessness making every sensation feel heightened, electric. The water shifts with your movements, a silent witness to your shared intensity.

Then, in one swift motion, Caleb lifts you, breaking the surface. The rush of air fills your lungs, but before you can fully recover, your back meets the cool porcelain with a forceful thud. The contrast of heat and cold, of water and open air, sends a jolt through your system.

Caleb towers over you, droplets streaming down his face, his breath heavy and erratic. His hands remain firm, one still gripping your thigh, the other braced against the tub. His body moves with reckless abandon, each motion deep, and relentless. Water sloshes over the edge, cascading onto the floor, forgotten.

His grunts mix with ragged breaths, his voice breaking through the sound of splashing water. Your gasps mirror his, the tension between you coiling tighter with every movement. Every sensation—his touch, his breath, the warmth of his body against yours—feels amplified, consuming.

His fingers tighten their hold, his pace unrelenting, pulling you both toward the inevitable, where words no longer matter—only feeling, only this.

Caleb shifts, guiding your legs over the edge of the tub, the cool porcelain a stark contrast against your heated skin. A shiver of anticipation courses through you, a delicious tension coiling in your stomach. His hands planted firmly on the tub’s rim, framing your face, caging you beneath him. You tilt your head back, searching his eyes—those dark, smoldering depths that drink you in like you’re something sacred.

Droplets of water fall from his damp hair, landing softly against your skin and trickling down like whispers of rain. The heat of his breath fans against your lips as he leans in closer, his voice hushed yet commanding.

“Look at you…” His tone is rich and reverent. “You’re breathtaking.”

Your breath hitches, your fingers tightening around his arms. Then his lips crash against yours—hungry, unyielding as if he’s trying to claim every unspoken word between you. The kiss deepens, tongues meeting in a slow, intoxicating dance. Your fingers weave into his wet hair, pulling him closer, savoring the taste of him—faint traces of warmth and something undeniably his.

Then, with one swift movement, he shifts, pressing deeper, and a strangled gasp slips from your lips. The sensation is overwhelming, your body trembling beneath him. He swallows your moan, his own breath stuttering as he holds still for a moment as if grounding himself in the way you fit so perfectly beneath him.

Your nails press into his skin, trailing down his back, desperate for something to hold onto. Caleb’s forehead presses to yours, his voice a shaky whisper against your lips.

“Tell me…” His breath is ragged, his body taut with restraint. “Tell me you feel this too.”

Your voice is barely more than a whimper. “I feel everything…”

He groans, his grip tightening, his body responding with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. You arch into him, your breaths coming in gasps, your senses drowning in the heat, the sound of water sloshing around you, the deep timbre of his voice breaking between heavy breaths.

“Say my name,” Caleb murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing along your jaw, down to your pulse point, where his tongue flicks, teasing.

“Caleb…” You breathe it like a prayer.

His lips curve into a knowing smile, his eyes dark with something unspoken, something primal.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his hands gripping your waist, his movements deep, slow, deliberate. The way he looks at you—like you are the only thing in the world—sends warmth flooding through your chest.

“My world… my life,” your voice is soft, yet resolute, your fingertips tracing the contours of his damp skin. “It includes you.”

Caleb stills. A breath catches in his throat, his body rigid as your words sink in. For a moment, the possessiveness, and the urgency, all dissolve into nothing. What remains is something raw—something unguarded. His lips find yours again, but this time, the kiss is different. It’s not hungry. It’s not desperate. It’s deep, steady, a silent confession. A kiss of understanding, of devotion.

It’s a kiss of acceptance.

His hands, once gripping with unrelenting fervor, now hold you like you’re something fragile, something irreplaceable. He’s always claimed you as his, but now, in this moment, he understands—he is yours just as much. There is no fear of loss, no silent battle for reassurance. He is here. He is loved. And he finally believes it.

“I’m sorry…” His voice is breathless, a whisper against your lips, though his body continues to move—slow, as if savoring every second.

You respond with a soft hum, your body shuddering against him. The peak of your pleasure had passed moments ago, but you hold on, staying with him, letting him embrace this moment fully. Your forehead rests against his shoulder, your breath warm against his neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his skin.

“Nngh…” His breath stutters, a quiet whimper slipping from his lips as his body tenses, shuddering against yours.

And then, release.

His grip tightens, his arms pulling you impossibly closer as he finally lets go, his breath heavy, tangled with yours. There is no rush to part, no need for words. Only the quiet rise and fall of your chests, the lingering warmth between you, and the unspoken promise sealed between your lips.

Caleb shifts, his movements slow and tender as he guides your bodies into a new position—his back resting against the cool porcelain while you lay against him, your body melting into his warmth. His arms encircle you, securing you against his chest, your head finding solace on his shoulder.

His breath is still uneven, lingering in the space between you, but he presses soft kisses along your shoulder as if grounding himself in your presence. Each press of his lips is a silent whisper, a quiet confession.

You reach for his right hand, tracing the calloused ridges of his fingers before gently opening his palm. Lifting it toward the window, you slide your hand beneath his, pressing your fingers together—lining them up, feeling the contrast, the fit. His fingers move first, locking with yours, holding tight. Then, without hesitation, he pulls your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand with a reverence that makes your chest tighten.

A beat of silence.

“I…” His voice is quiet, as if the words have been sitting on his tongue for too long. “I love you.”

You don’t respond right away. Not because you don’t feel the same, but because the weight of his words lingers, filling the space between you like something sacred.

He exhales, then presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “I love you,” he repeats, more certain this time.

You smile faintly, tilting your head against him. “I know.”

A short laugh escapes him, but then he grows serious again. His grip on your hand tightens, his lips hovering close to your ear.

“No… I love you a little more than you realize.”

The words settle deep in your chest, warmer than the water surrounding you. And in his hold, in the quiet of this moment, you believe him.

You don’t speak, but the way you squeeze his hand, the way your fingers stay laced between his, tells him everything.

The room is quiet now, save for the faint dripping of water from the edges of the tub, and the slow rise and fall of your breaths. Caleb lets out a deep sigh, his chin resting against your damp hair, his arms wrapped around you as if afraid to let go.

Outside the window, the world feels distant—lightening flickering, the candle casting a soft glow across the bathroom. But here, in this small, water-kissed space, nothing else matters.

His thumb brushes over your knuckles absentmindedly, memorizing every dip and ridge of your skin. You tilt your head slightly, your lips barely grazing his jaw before whispering, “I know… and I love you, too.”

Caleb doesn’t speak, but you feel it—the way his arms tighten around you, the way his breath stutters for just a moment, as if those words unraveled something deep within him.

Neither of you move. There’s no need to.

Because here, at this moment, tangled in warmth, wrapped in whispered confessions and lingering touches—this is everything.

And neither of you would change a thing.

[27moremoons]

Jenin, West Bank, Update by RNN:

The wide scale zionist-PA joint aggression continues on Jenin and its refugee camp for the third consecutive day. The same images of displacement from Gaza repeat themselves in Jenin:

Fires broke out in homes within Tal'at Al-Ghabz near the camp, many turned by the IOF into military outposts.

Fires also engulfed homes in Al-Jabriyat and Mahyoub Street, further spreading to nearby civilian residences due to continued IOF attacks.

Serving the occupation, the treacherous Palestinian Authority arrested and assaulted fighters from the Jenin Brigade. (*media 2,3,4)

*media can’t be shown due to its violent nature - media link

Despite all the repression, fierce clashes are ongoing between resistance fighters and the IOF.

Several injuries by IOF bullets were reported throughout the day and three from IOF attacks near Jalameh checkpoint were reported by the Palestinian Red Crescent.

Local sources reported clashes between Palestinian security forces and resistance fighters after the PA opened fire while pursuing resistance fighters in Yabad, southwest of Jenin.

Sources from Jenin Refugee Camp to Quds News Network:

Following an agreement between resistance fighters and the Palestinian Authority (PA) allowing PA security forces to enter the camp for a limited time, the resistance fighters decided to withdraw and disperse to various areas of Jenin. This decision was made to avoid potential betrayal by the PA, prevent their pursuit inside the camp, and to avoid bloodshed and deadly clashes should the PA attempt to arrest any of the fighters.

PA security leadership misled its personnel by claiming the agreement had been made with the resistance fighters. This move aimed to prevent PA members from leaking information to the resistance. However, with the launch of the "israeli" military operation, directives were issued for PA forces to monitor Jenin's villages and towns, including medical centers, village outskirts, abandoned homes, mosques, and the residences of former prisoners.

PA security forces intensified their operations in the rural areas of Jenin, arresting several resistance fighters. Simultaneously, the "israeli" military pursued resistance fighters within the camp, signaling a coordinated military operation involving "israel's" security, intelligence, and military apparatuses alongside PA security forces. The shared goal is to dismantle the resistance in Jenin. The key difference lies in rhetoric: while the occupation openly declares it is targeting resistance fighters, the PA labels them as "outlaws," "fugitives," and "Iranian mercenaries."

[yoonjae20]

Ric(hard) Fenton; Part 2

Read on ao3.

Masterpost. Previous. Next.

Bruce is many things — a son, an orphan, Gotham’s prince, a vigilante — but he knows that he isn’t a good father. He wants to be — he loves his children fiercely but there are too many unspoken words between them for Bruce to be a truly good father to them. But never more did Bruce believe that than when Dick stormed out of the Manor calling someone else his family. 

He and Dick argued often — always had butted heads — to be honest ever since Dick stopped being his Robin. It had only been many, many years later that Bruce realized that ever since leaving his shadow Dick had blossomed — that he had just been a dead weight holding the young man down. 

After Jason died due to his mistakes, he had been hellbent on never having another Robin again. When Alfred had put up the memorial, claiming he wouldn’t let Bruce forget, he had gritted his teeth but persisted through his anger, trying to not let his guilt drown him. But when Alfred sent Tim after him with a costume that would always be stained with blood in his mind — he had been furious. He hadn’t been fair with the boy, lashing out at him, being harsh in hopes that he would give up. But Tim had been stubborn — probably even more than Bruce himself. It’s only now that Bruce can admit to himself that the boy saved him from himself. 

“Well that went well,” Tim says sarcastically once they updated Alfred on the situation. He leans back in his seat in front of the Batcomputer. 

Bruce lets out a grunt as he looks over his shoulder as they try to find out who Danny is. So far no luck. They are running facial recognition software but Bruce has a feeling they won’t get any results there either. 

“He must have met him during the year he went missing,” Tim concludes. “That’s the only explanation.”

Bruce can’t argue against that logic, although he doesn’t like what it implies. (Bruce had hoped that despite their disagreements, there would always be trust between them. That no matter what, they would be on the same side. Nothing burns more than the knowledge that he failed.)

He stares at the map pinging Dick’s location every so often — he is moving west, about to cross the border into Pennsylvania. The only thing they can do now is wait and see where the man is going. Bruce sits in the chair next to Tim and settles in for a long day. 

Tim makes a breakthrough almost 12 hours later. It has been two hours since Dick’s signal dropped after he reached the border of Illinois and 6 hours since they realized Jason apparently followed him wherever the hell is going. 

Tim drums his fingers next to the keyboard, impatient as the software runs. At this point the intention to find out more about Danny isn’t about concern for Dick anymore, it’s about pure spite — and the need to know. Everybody has a digital footprint no matter how small. It shouldn’t be so hard to find a single kid. 

When the software pings with a result he almost topples his chair with how fast he stands up. There’s a match with the key words ‘GIW, Danny and Ric’ and Tim’s stomach drops as he scans the information. He taps his earpiece, interrupting Oracle as she briefs B and Robin who are about to start their patrol.

“I found him,” Tim says, voice shaking. “You’ll wanna see this.”

They need to go help Dick and that fast. 

It feels too quiet as they traverse through Amity Park on foot — and Jason can’t help but be on edge. He’s too used to the night in Gotham and its rowdy streets. The distant sound of bullets raining and the howling of police cars. Drugs deals around the corner, while the working girls wait on the sides of the streets in groups for drunken stragglers. Gotham is alive at night — but Amity Park? It feels like a Ghost Town in more ways than one. Even Smallville, despite being in the rural parts of Kansas, had held more life when Dick had convinced Jason to visit the Kent Farm one time.

Jason feels baffled that all the events Dick had told him about flew under the radar. Shouldn’t an entire town disappearing get noticed by someone other than its residents — or at least the Justice League? If the town vanished into nothingness once more, would anyone remember it? He doesn’t like that the answer seems to be no. 

Jason forms the rear as Dick and Danny chat in front, voices barely above a whisper as they discuss something. Jason knows he probably should listen as Danny updates Dick on the intricacies of what he missed since he was gone — voice serious, but he can’t help but keep an eye out, gaze trailing the rooftops — old habits die hard after all. 

It doesn’t take long for Jason to notice that they are being followed. The only reason Jason hasn’t warned Danny and Dick yet is because it’s nothing more than a small blob shaped green ball. Jason trails it in the corner of his eyes as it stays far enough to be barely seen but close enough to not lose them. 

Dick and Danny had briefed him on most Ghost Types — and Jason still has to blink away the green when he remembers that Danny admitted that he had his own roster of “rogues” to deal with. Jason has to admit that there were a lot more than he imagined — other than the stereotypical ones from movies — and he’d seen himself in the description of a Revenant. That’s why he knows this must be a Blob Ghost — which according to Danny and Dick — were pretty harmless and kind of dumb most of the time, acting on instincts and emotions rather than conscious thought. But that still doesn’t explain why it would follow them.

It darts in and out of view and Jason has to admit it’s kind of adorable. Dick and Danny must have noticed that he is distracted because they stop and Jason almost walks into them.

Jason instantly notices something is wrong when there isn’t a quip from either of them about his inattention — instead they both look horrified. Jason doesn’t understand why until the blob ghost is suddenly next to them and its emotions almost overwhelm Jason. 

Scared. Not safe. Hide. Danger. Danger!

It’s only Danny’s quick reaction as he tackles Jason out of the way that prevents him from being a splat on the ground as a blast hits the position where he had been standing, leaving a smoking crater.

“Well, well, well. Look who crawled back?” a cruel voice taunts and Jason sees Dick stiffening as they get surrounded by agents in white suits. “And it even brought us a present! And here I thought we would need to find ourselves a new shiny plaything.” 

“Operative O,” Danny’s hisses, an almost animalistic growl escaping his throat. 

“Already showing your real nature, I see,” Operative O’s voice is mocking. 

“Operative O, don’t aggravate it further before we have it safely captured,” another agent reprimands, holding some kind of blaster and Jason sees green, only Danny’s warning hand on his shoulder keeping him from retaliating. 

“It’s just — here I was worried it wouldn’t fall in our trap without dear old Ricky in our grasp, but it seems I worried for nothing,” Operative O laughs but the only thing Jason hears is Joker’s laugh as the man beats him to half to death with the crowbar.  

Jason grits his teeth, shaking his head to force the memory away.  He’s not in Ethiopia. These are not his demons — he has no right losing himself here. And like hell he is gonna let Danny and Dick face them alone. 

Jason notices he must have missed something because suddenly the two agents who had spoken up are way too close and Danny and Dick both are frozen next to him — neither even saying a word or doing anything despite it. 

“Imagine my surprise when we turned up at the Fentons and you weren’t there.” Operative O slides an arm around Dick’s shoulders forcing him to bend a little as he murmurs the next words into his ear — Dick trembles in his hold and Jason’s vision flashes green. “Made it super easy for us.” 

“Get your paws off my brother!” Danny snarls, lashing out but stopping short when the agent uses Dick as a meat child. 

“Now let’s not be unreasonable, shall we?” Operative O says, releasing Dick and holding up his hands in the air. He circles them, grin sharp. “I’m not cruel after all. Let's say Phantom and the other feisty one, I saw those green eyes — in exchange for the rest — a fair deal, is it not? What do you say Ricky?”

Jason can hear Dick’s jaw crack from how hard the man grits his teeth. 

“After all the Fenton’s got you to replace Phantom now. A lot better than a corpse if you ask me.” 

Dick growls and decks the man hard in the face as he leans into his space once again. Operative O just laughs maniacally as he stumbles at the force of it, spitting blood on the ground and wiping his nose with the sleeve of his suit, staining it red.

“There it is,” he says gleefully. “That’s what I wanted to see.”

Dick is panting and to Jason’s shock his eyes are a burning, pulsing green as he glares at the agent.

“I’ll wonder how long it’ll take you to scream, hm Ricky boy,” Operative O ponders sadistically. “I hope you’ll hold out longer than Phantom at least. Makes it more fun to break them.” 

“Are you done, Operative O?” the other agent interrupts, impatient. “Other people have places to be.”

“What’s the rush, Operative K?” Operative O muses, flicking the blood dripping from his face off his hand. “It’s not like there’s anyone to interrupt us.” 

Operative K narrows his eyes at his partner.

“The higher-ups wanted us to be done with this 2 months ago,” he reminds. “The sooner we get done here, the sooner we can get the hell out of this cursed town.”

“As if Gotham will be better,” Operative O scoffs and it takes all of Jason’s willpower to not react at the name drop. “Overflowing with all those pests — starting with that infuriating Bat and its birds.” 

He hums, clearly deep in thought.

“Although I always wanted to clip a bird’s wings and see if they can still fly.”

Operative K rolls his eyes, clearly fed up with his partner’s behavior.

“I should have switched with Operative L when I had the chance.” 

“Hey, I still get the job done, don’t I?” Operative O pouts and Jason wants to claw the expression of the man’s face. “They have to die sooner or later anyway.” 

Operative K sighs but just shakes his head before he directs his attention back to the agents still surrounding them.

“Capture them.”

Jason stands up, not about to let them do whatever they want and for once gladly letting the Pit Rage consume him, but before he can even do one step, Danny writhes on the ground next to him, screaming as electricity continues to shock him. Drool drips from the corner of his mouth as he seizes and his screaming gets hoarse. And Jason — Jason just stands there. It's like his muscles have turned into lead and he can’t move his limbs one inch as he stares at Danny convulsing. 

Fuck, he knew this was gonna be bad when Danny had showed him his scars. But he hadn’t thought of the chance that they would fail before they even tried. Jason feels helpless and it’s like Ethiopia all over again. Only this time he wishes the screams he hears would come from him. 

“Enough!” Dick roars as Danny starts foaming at his mouth and tearing Jason out of his daze. “What the hell do you want from us?”

Danny’s eyes roll back in his skull as the shocks stop and Operative O uses a blaster to lift Dick’s chin, forcing him to look at him as he smirks.

“Beg.” His smirk stretches into a blood lusty smile as Dick gulps, his hands spasming at his sides. “Maybe you’ll convince me.”

At the same time as Dick throws down a smoke bomb, Jason grabs his gun in one smooth moment from the holster hidden above his foot and shoots the man point blank between the eyes. The space fills with smoke as Operative O drops to the ground — hopefully dead — and Jason quickly helps Dick with carrying Danny between them as they duck underneath countless stray blasts as the agents shout over each other.  

“That signal was atrocious,” Jason complains as Dick leads them into an alleyway, probably orienting himself on nothing more than pure instincts. They take several complicated turns until they can’t hear the sound of battle anymore. “Cass would have had your head.”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” Dick fires back and uses his shoulder to open a door, as they drag Danny in it, the boy still out cold. 

The door falls close behind them and Dick stills as he feels the boy’s pulse, lips pressed into a thin line.

“This is bad, we need an Ecto-Dejecto as fast as possible.” Dick gnaws at his lips. “Neither of us has enough ectoplasm to heal this.”

Jason’s eyes grow wide as he sees Dick’s eyes and veins glow green, his brother’s face getting paler by the second. Jason rips away Dick’s grasp on Danny and the man lets out a gasp, breathing shakily and looking incredibly drained

“What the hell did you do?”

“Transferred the little ectoplasm I have to Danny,” Dick wheezes out. “We can’t use yours, the corruption would overpower his ectoplasm with how little reserves he has left.”

“There’s no reason you had to do this if it hurts you!”

Dick leans against a wall for support, his limbs shaking.

“You- You don’t get it,” Dick still sounds breathless. “Electricity-” He coughs. “It’s his one weakness. Destabilizes his core. It’s- It’s how he died. If we don’t get him the Ecto-Dejecto he’ll-”

Dick grimaces as if he doesn’t want to finish the sentence, but it’s far too late that Jason notices it’s actually because he’s in pain. He barely steps forward and catches the man as he suddenly faints. Staggering underneath the weight of his brother — and the responsibility that his new brother might die if he makes the wrong decision, Jason says the only word he can think of.

“FUCK!”

[richarlotte]

things you’d recommend?

I. Find a day where you have a solid two and a half hours to yourself. I started my manifestation journey when I was nearly 18 and really wanted to make something of myself. While Joseph Murphy and Neville Goddard are amazing places to start today, we’re going to focus on Florence Scovel Shinn’s book “The Game of Life & How to Play It” and all that it brings. I’ve linked the free audiobook here and you’re going to listen to it, absorb it, and sit with your thoughts.

II. The next step is getting a journal started that’s completely dedicated to your new life. I got mine from TJ Maxx and I love it, it’s a fun leopard print diary. In this you’ll write your hopes and dreams for the future, your goals, how you’d like to see yourself thrive, your ideal image, your life story and your backstory, everything you could think of. You’re going to dedicate this journal to your journey and slowly work on filling it.

III. You’re going to slowly begin using positive thinking, implementing slow life changes, and making progress towards those goals. You should understand that making consistent efforts and using your time well is a key part of pulling things off, as is coordinating your bank accounts and saving, taking the time to update your goals (and journal) as you move along, and finding the time to correct what you should’ve done better. You build your base up, perfect what needs to be perfected as you’re moving forward, and execute your plans. 

IV: Take your time when it comes to making large changes. If one of your goals is to move cities to a place where no one knows you, glow up where you are and then start making the plans to go. It’s the same with drastic life changes like surgery and even changing your job; make sure you have extra money saved in case of complications and don’t pack up and run. If you want your changes to last and look good, take your time to make sure that you’re leaving to transition from one phase of your plan to the next, you’re preparing for the worst but expect the best, and you have an idea of what your end goal is. Real life changes take time and you have to remain dedicated.

V. Prepare to outgrow your original plan or want to adjust it as time moves along. This is really why you should constantly be updating your manifestation and planning journal; it will give you the ability to look back and see where things changed for you. I had a clear pivot in style and taste when I took Michigan, Syracuse, and Penn off my college lists and decided to go west, and my journaling from that time shows that pivot incredibly clearly. What I was manifesting also changed in college, and it’s interesting to look back and read how I talked myself out of becoming an OBGYN and going to France this summer and onto an entirely new. career path with new plans and a new internship. Journaling through transitions will help your path forward seem clearer and open your mind to new opportunities and experiences as you progress.

[pcttrailsidereader]

Oh Yes!?...Oh No!?

I can recall two among many images walking the Pacific Crest Trail. One of those is the vast clearcut landscape near Snoqualmie Pass back in 1981 and walking through miles and miles of burnt out forests in California in 2018 and 2019. Seeing these impacts in person have never left me. In the middle of that range of years the Forest Service put into place the Northwest Forest Plan. The plan was enacted in 1994 and included 24 million acres across federal land. The intent was to preserve mature and old-growth forests and protect species, including the marbled murrelet, salmon and the northern spotted owl.

The Biden administration has begun a process to update the plan. This update would address changes that include the loss of nearly 7% of protected old-growth forest within the plan area because of wildfire. The loss has eliminated gains of old growth that were achieved during the first 25 years of the plan.

Existing Northwest Forest Plan area

The Forest Service wants to issue a final environmental impact statement (EIS) on the proposed amendments in 2025, under the imminent Trump administration. What the impact of that will be are not totally clear.

Wildfire in old growth forests is sure to increase due to climate change and a long history of fire suppression that has added to forest density and fuels throughout the plan area. The plan area impacts forests from the Canadian border south to just north of San Francisco...encompassing large parts of the PCT.

The public has until March 17 to comment on the Forest Services draft EIS on proposed amendments. Some potential positives in the draft amendments include long overdue tribal co-stewardship in implementing managment practices, along with other reforms to enhance the relationship between tribes and the national forests on their ancestral lands. Tribes were not consulted back in 1994 when the original NW Forest Plan was put into place.

The proposed changes would also greatly increase logging, burning and thinning within the national forests in the plan areas. For the past three decades trees 80-120 years old in national forests west of the Cascades within the plan area, including Olympic (not along the PCT), Mount Baker-Snoqualmie and Gifford Pinchot national forests have been off limits to logging. Under the proposed changes these areas would be open to logging for restoration and economic benefits to rural communities.

Within this expansive area are trees that are nearly 200 years old. These giants could also be logged for the purpose of ecological restoration. Trees older than 200 years would be off limits to logging in most circumstances.

Forests east of the Cascades in the plan area would also be open for burning, mechanical thinning and cutting for both restoration and to provide jobs for timber workers and mills. The volunteer federal advisory committee that included scientists, tribes, and academics had a goal in mind when they drafted the amendments. The amendments east and west of the Cascades are meant to create more economic opportunity for rural communities while making forests more resilient to increased fires frequency and severity of those fires.

Whether or not economics, fire/forest management are the key drivers in the proposed amendments is open to discussion. We know that fire is natural in forests. The goal of the amendment appears to also bring fire back where it has been suppressed and to tame risk by removing fuel where forest have gotten too dense. Differentiating between moist and dry forest types and young and old forests, with more logging recommended in younger and drier forests.

Ryan Talbot, Pacific Northwest conservation advocate for Wild Earth Guardians, suggests that fire is being used to justify more cutting. He says, "Fire is kind of being used a means to do more logging with a lot of code words like restoration and resiliency." Public meetings on the plan amendments outlined in the draft EIS begin in January. The Forest Service has published a calendar of meeting times and locations, links to webinars, tips on how to comment and a draft EIS (DEIS) document library in its most recent newsletter about the plan amendment.

Your thoughts and feelings about the amendment are important. If you have walked anywhere in the west, including the PCT, you have witnessed the effects of logging and fire. With each hiking season on the PCT being more and more impacted by climate change and subsequent fires is reason enough to weigh in on the DEIS. We hope you will consider adding your voice. The images of vast clearcuts and greyed out acre upon acre of burnt forest land has never left my memory. For the short time we are here on the planet maybe we can influence the life of forests along the PCT long after we have hiked our last mile and taken our final breath leaving a thriving landscape for those coming behind us.

[mamirhodessxox]

Carlos: Remember, when burying a body, make sure to cover it with endangered plants so it’s illegal to dig up!

Carlos: Make sure to follow me for more gardening tips!

———————————————————————

Y/N: Bottling up negative emotions is bad for your health, so you shouldn't do it.

Leon : I know, that's why I bottle up all my emotions, both positive and negative, so it cancels out.

Y/N: Th-that's not how that works-

———————————————————————

Leon: I love you.

Y/N, not paying attention: What was that?

Leon: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

———————————————————————

Carlos: Standing next to sunflowers always makes me feel weak like ‘look at this fucking flower. This flower is taller than I am. This flower is winning and I’m losing.’

Jill: Wow, you are not ready to hear about trees.

———————————————————————

Leon: Are you an F5 key? Because that ass is refreshing.

Y/N: Are you a software update? because not right now.

———————————————————————

Y/n: Oh, fiddlesticks! That really ruffles my feathers!

Leon: Please, just say fuck.

———————————————————————

Chris: Where are your parents?

Leon: What are parents?

Chris: That’s just about the saddest thing I ever heard get said.

———————————————————————

Y/n: We need to open this locked door. Leon, give me your credit card.

Leon: Here.

Y/n, pocketing it: Thanks. Carlos, break down the door.

———————————————————————

Y/N: Listen, in the wild wild west there is always a woman in the saloon and nobody messes with her even though they all have guns.

Leon: That's because she's a prostitute.

———————————————————————

Leon: What’s sexting?

Y/N: I'm not having this conversation with you.

———————————————————————

Y/N: Know why I called you in here?

Leon: Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic.

Y/N: *Stops pouring two glasses of wine.* Accidentally?

———————————————————————

Leon: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you?

Y/N: …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out on bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

———————————————————————

Leon: I’m proud to identify as morosexual. I’m attracted to dumbasses and dumbasses exclusively. Someone asked me what the Spanish word for "tortilla" was once, and now I dream of kissing them under the moonlight.

Y/N: What kind of animal is the Pink Panther?

Leon, already taking off their clothes: God, Y/N, you’re so fucking stupid.

[staytinyville]

OUTLAW (46)

ATEEZ poly!ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warning: none

A/N NOT BETA READ. PLEASE EXCUSE THE LATE UPDATE. Holiday weeks have officially passed (boo) so we are hopefully back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Your jaw was clenched as you stared at the building in front of you. The boys all stood behind you, trying to come up with a plan to infiltrate city hall. The only thing on your mind though, was getting your father out and putting Hendricks behind bars where he belonged. 

“How do we get in?” Seonghwa asked. 

“We could use the side window, like last time.” Yunho answered. 

“People would notice us by the time we crawled through.” San said. 

“We could wait until Klein steps out and we kidnap him.” Wooyung suggested. 

Each of the boys were too preoccupied with trying to find a way in, that they hadn’t noticed you march your way through the front doors. Your adrenaline from the anger was kicking in and you had not movement to stop your legs and think about a plan before going in. 

“That would take too long.” Hongjoong shook his head. “Quaid could be gone by then.”

“Angel?”

Your hands pushed the door open, making it slam against a wall. Everyone inside flinched, turning to see you walk further in and towards the back of the building. 

“Hey, what's going on?” A worker asked, quickling trying to block your way. 

“Out of my way.” You glared, finding Klein’s office and throwing the door open. 

“Miss, you can't go in there.” The worker called out, but you had shut the door in his face before he had the chance of walking in.

“Stop her!” Someone shouted on the other side of the door. 

However you had moved to turn the key, quickly locking it. Turning on your heel you faced Klein at his desk with Hendricks sitting in front. Hendricks crossed his arms as he took you in, clenching his jaw, while Klein was confused over the whole thing. 

“What is the meaning of this!?” Klein sputtered. “Who are you!?”

“Why don't you ask your dear friend Hendricks.” You turned your stare to the sheriff, turning your nose up.

“Serving men well?” Hendricks asked, eyes boring into you. 

“Arresting innocents ease your mind?” You sneered back, glaring at the older man.

“Excuse me—” Klein tried to put in. 

“This doesn't concern you.” Hendricks scolded the mayor, making you glare harder. 

“Don’t speak to him that way.” You shot back.

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Hendricks stood from the chair, moving into your personal space. 

You took a step back, an unsettling feeling falling into your chest from how much the man wanted to intimidate you. It wasn’t that you were trying to get away from him. It was the you wanted room to throw a punch if need be. 

Before you could say anything more, something pushed the window behind Klein open harshly. Mingi’s glare was pointed into the room, hands gripping onto the window sill. He quickly lifted himself into the room, moving aside to let all the other boys in. 

Klein gasped out and moved away from his desk, trying to get away from the 8 boys who were slowly crawling in. When Hongjoong stepped through, his harsh glare turned to everyone in the room before stopping at you. 

“Did you really have to lock the door?” Yeosang asked you, sighing in disappointment. 

“Get back!” Hendricks glared, quickly pulling out his gun from his holster. 

When the boys all heard the click of it, Yeosang was quick to put a hand out in front of you while the others moved to get closer to your side. You heard Klein gasp as Jongho and Seonghwa pushed him out of the way to reach you. He placed a hand on his chest, looking appalled at the boys. 

Hongjoong stood on the other side of the room though, quickly taking out his own pistol aiming it back at Hendricks. “Think you're the only one with a gun?” He asked with a tilt of his head. 

You sighed deeply before softly moving Yeosang’s arm down so you could move forward. With the boys all crowded at one side of the room, Hongjoong stood at one corner with Klein at the opposite. Hendricks was still by the chair he had stood from, gun aimed directly at Hongjoong. 

Your lips twitched and lips pursed. “This isn't a grudge match.” You glared. “Put your weapons down.” You added, looking between the two men. 

“Princess, you're testing my patience.” Hongjoong answered you, only giving you a side glance. 

“Put it down, Hongjoong.” You demanded again. 

Hongjoong clenched his jaw as his eyeskept going back and forth between you and Hendricks. The man was not lowering his gun which put him on edge. But the strong pointed look you gave him made him click his tongue. He slowly lowered his gun. 

“Not a smart move.” Hendricks mocked, flexing his arm as if he was about to shoot again. 

The boy all flinched, moving to duck but you were quick to pick something off Klein’s desk and swing it towards Hendrick’s hand. The glass of whiskey hit his wrist making him drop his gun in a grunt. 

Hongjoong quickly dove forward to take the weapon from him as everyone else looked around in astonishment. With him now disarmed, Yunho and Jongho both moved forward to restrain Hendricks.

“You shoot, everyone outside those doors come running in.” You calmly tell Hendricks, standing as if you hadn’t just thrown something at him. 

“You really think they'd believe some criminals over their sheriff.” He sneered, rubbing at his wrist where glass had cut just a bit. 

“They will with the proof of your involvement with Strickland.” You pulled out some envelopes from your pockets, dropping them onto Klein’s desk. The mayor raised his eyebrows, looking over the browning papers with curiosity. 

“Look familiar?” You continued. 

“What are those stupid papers going to do?” Hendricks shook his head. “Strickland is just a town that helps people.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Not with the evidence we have from Quaid's home.” Yeosang put in.

Hendricks glared at the boy, his lips turning up. 

“Mayor Klein.” Hongjoong stepped in, leaning over the desk to look at the mayor directly. “Why have you been raising taxes?” He asked. 

“To help the people—” The old man sputtered.

“Don't bullshit us.” Mingi threatened, coming to stand behind him. 

Klein began to tremble as he had to look up at the outlaw, mouth opening and closing as he tried to come up with an answer. “Quiad told me Strickland would send people down to help reform the city! Make it bigger than Aurora.” He shook his head. 

“It was a lie.” Seonghwa said. “They're making drugs to turn people into emotionless people.”

“No, that's not true.” Klein shook his head, looking at all of you bewildered. 

“It's in the papers.” You told the man, sliding the envelopes closer for him to read. 

The mayor didn’t waste time quickly opening the letters, reading over Quaid and Hendricks handwriting. His face slowly morphed from confusion to frustration as he read over more and more. He threw some down before going over other ones–all reading the same thing. 

“Don't listen to them!” Hendricks yelled. “They're outlaws! They took your money.” He grunted when Jongho pulled his hair back, shoving the man down to the floor and onto his knees. 

“And where have you been getting yours?” You sneered, turning around to face him. “Those boots look a bit too clean to me.” You said. 

“Quaid lied.” Klein spoke to himself. 

“They're feeding you lies.” Hendricks tried to defend himself again. 

“Hendricks!” Klein snapped. “It's all here! Everything!” The mayor growled. “Even yours. I can't—I can't continue this.” He throw all the papers onto the desk, slamming his hands onto the wood as he looked furious. 

“You traitor!” Hendricks growled.

He was quick in shoving Jongho and Yunho off his arms. The two boys grunted as the man’s elbows caught into their noses. Your eyes went wide as you saw the man lunge for you, moving your hands behind you to find something to use as defense. However before he could get to you, San was quick to rush forward and tackle Hendricks to the ground. 

The old man had no chance with how much larger San was. He seemed to know what he was doing because the moment he got Hendricks on the ground, his was swinging away at the man’s face. The boys took a few seconds before finally rushing forward to pull San off the man who was starting to bleed profusely. 

“San!” You cried out, rushing forward to help him.

You pulled his face to look at you, wiping away the smudges he had on his cheeks. You smiled softly, showing him that you appreciated his help. Turning back towards the old sheriff on the ground, rolling in pain, you crouched to get closer to him. 

“Your biggest downfall was thinking you could get away with it.” You told him. 

“Whore.” He spit in your face, you flinching a bit from the blood. 

Mingi and Wooyoung held San back again. You aggressively wiped at the spit, flinging it back into his eyes. “Rot in hell, Sheriff.” You whispered. 

“Guards! Seize him! He's a traitor to this city!” Klein called out, moving from behind his desk.

You got back up and gave Hednricks a small kick with your boot. Scoffing, you turned to look back up at the boys, a smile over taking your features as you took them all in. 

“Not gonna lie.” Seonghwa nodded. “I got a boner.”

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @detectivedoodle , @bangtanxberm , @a1i33a , @loveforred , @drunken-deitence , @0325tiny , @the-ghostest-with-the-mostest , @atinyreads , @atinytinaa , @lexiigom , @smilingtokki , @mismatchfluffysocks , @brain-empty-only-draken , @sousydive , @alex-tinyy , @h3arteyes4mingi , @onedumbho3 , @popcatx0 , @blue1amory , @mommahwa1117 , @sunnyhokyu , @cloudieclair , @puppyminnnie

[mothandpidgeon]

The Outlaws (Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) - Chapter 2

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: T (eventual E 18+ MDNI)

wc: 1.7k

summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you.

tags: old west au, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, period/genre/canon typical violence, alcohol, morally grey characters, reader has backstory, no use of y/n

authors note: Posting this today in honor of act ii. Yeehaw. As always, thank you @ezrasbirdie for the beta and support in this (you really need to tell me to stfu about these two) and in life.

Joel once took Sarah to see PT Barnum’s Greatest Show on Earth. Each ticket cost him two quarters. She pulled him by the hand past the tents with Tom Thumb and the giantess, straight to the exhibition of wild animals. There were all sorts of exotic animals in the menagerie– giraffes, elephants, snakes. You remind him of the tiger. Beautiful and cunning. Fierce. Dangerous unless it’s kept under lock and key. 

Which is why he’s grateful he kept these old shackles in his saddle bag. 

You’re in a friendlier mood once camp is set up and a rabbit is roasted on a spit. He knows it’s a rouse, that you’re still spitting mad and hoping to slit his throat in the night. On that train, you were the demure damsel in need of a rescue. Soon as he put that cuff on your wrist, you turned into a fire breathing dragon. 

You can be as mad as you’d like. You’re no match for his strength or his revolver. 

They sit around the fire, Joel and Ellie propped against their saddles. It’s a cool evening, a steady breeze blows off the river. The stars paint the purple sky and the cave is illuminated with the orange glow of a fire. There’s plenty to celebrate. Though, even when they score a good amount of money, gold pieces, and get away without a scratch, Joel never feels much satisfaction. Despite his personal quandary, it would be a beautiful night, really, if Joel weren’t sitting there waiting for you to do something foolish. 

He can tell you’re meditating on some new escape plan, knows better than to look at you too long. A girl like you, pretty and with that sharp mouth, is the type that knows how to use her womanly wiles. You’re desperate enough to try just about anything and he’s not giving you the chance. 

You must think he’s stupid enough to fall for it too. He reluctantly passes you his flask and, after you drink, you wipe your wet lips with a seductive  finger. 

Ellie’s being a real chatterbox, recounting each moment of the robbery as if she’s writing her own nickel weekly and peppering you with questions. He’s not surprised she’s taken a liking to you. There aren’t too many of the female persuasion out here. Maybe she can see some of Tess in you. He doesn’t. Tess was always calm and controlled. And when she was angry, she never fucking spit at him. In fact, he resents you for making him think about Tess at all. 

“Ten thousand dollar bounty, huh?” Ellie asks you. “What’d you do?”

Joel’s seen more than a few people running from the law but none of them look like you. You’re no Annie Oakley. 

“My sweetheart was fooling around with my sister so I killed em both,” you say. 

“Really?” Ellie asks. 

“No,” you say. 

“What was it really?” she tries again. 

“Leave it,” Joel says. 

He’d be just as cagey about his past. Outlaws don’t live by any code but if they did, questions like that would be frowned upon. 

Ellie grumbles at him. 

“I’ve got ten on me too,” she tells you. 

“Your daddy must be proud,” you say, looking to Joel. 

They respond in unison— “He’s not my Pa,” and a “I ain’t her daddy.” 

You do a lousy job suppressing a smile. 

“So this is the infamous Miller gang? Ain’t much of a gang if you ask me,” you say. 

Joel grinds his molars. 

“We used to be a proper one. Most of ‘em are in prison now. And then we lost Tess to a bout with fever. And Tommy left,” Ellie recounts. 

“Who’s Tommy?” 

“Nobody,” Joel says same time as Ellie tells you, “His brother.”

You look Joel up and down. 

“That’s enough yakking for tonight,” he says. “I’m turning in. C’mon.” He pulls the chain. 

Ellie laughs. “I should warn you. He snores something awful.”

You scoff. “Is this some kind of ploy so you can wake up on top of me?” you protest. 

Joel’s patience is wearing thin. He’s got half a mind to turn you loose and let the wolves deal with you. 

“You can quit the belly aching, missy. I ain’t taking that thing off til you’re with the sheriff in Jackson.”

“You’ll wear him down eventually,” Ellie encourages. 

“Ellie, go to sleep,” Joel orders. 

She rolls her eyes. 

“What if I got to use the privy?” you ask. 

“Hope you like company,” Joel says. 

You huff. 

“You at least going to give me a blanket? Cold out here,” you say. 

Joel’s only got one in his bed roll, a beautiful Pawnee blanket he bought off a trader from Kansas woven with geometric patterns. He knows it would be gentlemanly to let you sleep with it but you’re no lady. 

He sighs as he hands it over. You wrap it around your shoulders with a self-satisfied look on your face. 

“Anything else I can do for you, missy?” he says with mock cordiality. 

“You can stop calling me missy,” you say. 

“G’night, missy,” he says. 

It’s not your best plan. But just because it’s simple doesn’t mean it won’t work. 

First step, you wait for Ellie and Joel to fall asleep. The girl takes a while. She’s got a dime novel with a cowboy on the cover that she flips through as the flames die down. You watch her through your cracked eyelids, pretending to have already drifted off yourself. 

It’s hard to tell if Joel’s out. He uses his saddle as a pillow and you’ve positioned yourself on the other side of it, your arm outstretched so you don’t have to be too close to him. 

He murmurs to himself. You strain to catch what he’s saying. At first, there are words you can understand. The name Sarah passes his lips. But then you hear him make a sound you can only describe as a whimper. 

It gives you pause. You’ve never been a nurturing type but it pulls at your heart strings, almost makes you want to put your arms around him. You imagine a hurt puppy inside that big, snarling dog of a man.

His sharp silhouette is highlighted in the amber glow of the campfire. It’s a shame he’s such a mean son of a bitch because he really is easy on the eyes. Then he rolls over. His unexpected motion nearly twists your connected arm out of its socket and you bite your tongue to keep from swearing. That bastard has you chained up like a dog. You do all you can to control your temper, swearing soundlessly. You can’t afford to wake him. 

You wait a long while, listening to him grunt and snore. Once you’re sure he’s good and asleep, you move. 

It’s a process. You begin by flexing your wrist. An innocent gesture that could be explained by sleepy twitches. He doesn’t stir. 

Eventually you feel bold enough to inch towards him, pulling the chain carefully along the ground. You crawl on your belly until you’re in front of him, then you dare to lift your hands up. 

The chain clinks against the buzz of the night insects and you swear it’s so loud you hear it echo off the mountains. You hold your breath, wide eyed, every muscle in your body taught. 

Joel doesn’t wake. He might be pretending but his chest still rises and falls slowly. Either he’s a hard sleeper or he’s deaf. Might be a little of both. You’re always tired after the rush of a big score. 

Ellie hasn’t woken up. Her eyes are closed, mouth hangs open. Down for the count.

You flex your fingers before you begin the next step, lick your lips and take a steadying breath. 

You’ve picked pockets before. Never tried it on a sleeping man, though. You keep your touch light, delicate, unbuttoning his waistcoat with one hand. It falls open for you and you can’t help but smile. 

The key to the handcuffs is tucked in the inner pocket. You saw him put it there. All you have to do is lift it out, unlock the cuff, and you’re a free woman. What you’re going to do after that, all alone in the middle of god only knows where, you’re not sure. But that’s not of material importance until you have that key. 

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip and you move slower than molasses in January, easing your first two fingers into the little pocket. Your fingertip connects with metal and your heart jumps. Pinching the ringed end, you hold on and pull. It’s awfully heavy. 

Because it’s not the key at all. You’ve fished a pocket watch out of Joel’s vest. Damn it. It’s a dainty little thing— fine gold with intricate scrollwork engraved on the back. The face is all busted up and it doesn’t seem to be ticking. Most importantly, though it’s not a key. You need that goddamn key if you want to get— 

The unmistakable click of a gun being cocked makes you freeze. Joel’s awake, dark eyes shining in anger. You’ve had guns pointed at you on a number of occasions but still it makes your blood run cold. 

“The hell are you doing?” he asks. 

“You’re dreaming,” you tell him. 

He doesn’t think that’s cute. The scowl on his face just deepens. 

“Alright,” you say, raising your hands in surrender.

You put the watch back in place and crawl back to your spot. 

“Gimme the damn blanket,” Joel growls. 

You toss it to him, cowed. But what did you expect? This had never been a very good plan.

Once you hear the hammer of Joel’s gun go back into place, you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s quiet for a while as Joel gets under his blanket and you know he’s laying there waiting for you to fall asleep. 

You try to settle down, wrapping your arms around yourself. The night air bites at you now that you’ve lost your blanket privileges.

“Sarah a sweetheart of yours?” you ask him. 

His head snaps your way so fast you think his neck might break. 

“You was talking to her in your sleep,” you explain. 

“Say that name again and I’ll wring your neck,” he says. 

He sounded like he meant it before but you feel like he’s looking forward to putting a bullet in you. You shiver. You’re smart enough not to say another word. 

---

Chapter 3

I'd love to hear from you! Comments and reblogs appreciated. My asks are always open!

[mclzandaya]

My Candy Love New Gen - Episode 3 Guide

This episode cost me 1411 APs on Roy's (+Jason) route with jokers, without Archibald. 1212 on Amanda's route (didn't meet Jason), with jokers, with Archibald. 1431 on Devon's (+Jason) route with jokers, with Archibald.

Key:

Negative affinity result: - Neutral affinity result: = Positive affinity result: + Needs to be checked: *

Illustrations: 5 (See at the end.) None of them are automatic, you can get 2 of them in one playthrough if you're on Roy/Devon's route.

Archibald: You can find him at the west end of the shopping mall once you're done shopping. You have to ask him if he wants to come as well. (details at the shopping mall with Amanda.)

Outfits: The yellow jacket one is for Roy/Devon/Jason, the purple skirt one is for Amanda/Thomas.

The answers for Devon and Thomas are translated from French, Thomas' answers may be incomplete. Amanda, Devon, Jason and Roy's guide are complete! Idk if I'll update Thomas' answers as I won't be playing his route anytime soon, if you have his exact answers (with personality) don't hesitate to message me/leave an ask!

------------------------------------------------

DIALOGUE 1: (Everyone looked at me and applauded again.)

(I stared at the table, a bit embarrassed by all the attention.) 40 + Amanda and Elenda (I modestly nodded as a sign of thanks.) 40 + Thomas and Brune*(I joined in the applause, a smile on my face.) 40 + Roy, Devon and Elenda DIALOGUE 2: (choose the person you want to get the illu with) Devon: You can go with one of us, there will be enough of us to finish things up here...

Roy, how about a walk around the mall? 80 = Amanda, do you want to come with me? 80 = I'll admit that if you accompanied me, l'd feel more legitimate using this card... 80 = Thomas, do you want to go for a walk? 80 =

DIALOGUE 2 (bis): if you choose to go with Thomas You won't let yourself be surprised?* I wouldn't be able to function like that. I'd feel limited.* That's not a bad idea. I might try that. +*

Go to the mall to do the shopping.

OUTFIT CHOICE: Yellow for Roy/Devon/Jason. Purple for Thomas/Amanda.

A little window shopping before you go shopping can't hurt!

IF YOU GO WITH AMANDA:

DIALOGUE 3 Amanda: With little cups, and everything... It's too cute, don't you think?

Sweet: It is pretty cute! 56 + Energetic: It is cute, but it's really expensive! 53 = Rebel: Funny, I wouldn't have thought that was your thing. 49 -

DIALOGUE 4: Amanda: And you? Is there anything you like?

I could definitely see myself wearing those overalls! = I like that little dress. It's elegant, and simple... = How do you think I'd look in those shorts? =

DIALOGUE 5: [...]

The drinks. That way, we'll have the heavy stuff at the bottom of the bag. = TRIGGER JASON'S ROUTE (see roy's route dialogue 6) The food. That way, we'll choose the rest in accordance. = Things to snack on. It's no use to carry heavy things around with us. =

To meet Archibald, you need to go to the west area of the shopping mall once you bought everything that you need, but before going back to the office! DIALOGUE 6: You aren't going to follow me there, right? 40 Oh, actually... do you want to come? 40 TAKI'S OUTFIT I can't be late. 40

IF YOU GO WITH DEVON:

DIALOGUE 3: [...]

Rebel: I'd say children's clothing store? 53 - Sweet: The game store, or the DVD one... 60 = Energetic: I'd say... None. It's the first time you''ve stepped a feet in here. 46 +

DIALOGUE 4: Devon: I mean, in general. I imagine that you haven't had the time to completely explore the shopping mall... 

I like home decor shops! =* Libraries. No shops fascinates me as much. = Any clothing store, I love it. =*

DIALOGUE 4: [...]

The drinks. That way, we'll have the heavy stuff at the bottom of the bag. = TRIGGER JASON'S ROUTE (see roy's route dialogue 6) The food. That way, we'll choose the rest in accordance. = Things to snack on. It's no use to carry heavy things around with us. =

IF YOU GO WITH THOMAS:

DIALOGUE 3 I know Thomas offers you an ice cream I think?

I think I'm part of those people... * I don't mind at all. Here you go. = Is there a third option? idk*

DIALOGUE 4: [...]

The drinks. That way, we'll have the heavy stuff at the bottom of the bag. = TRIGGER JASON'S ROUTE (see roy's route dialogue 6) The food. That way, we'll choose the rest in accordance. = Things to snack on. It's no use to carry heavy things around with us. =

IF YOU GO WITH ROY:

DIALOGUE 3 Roy: Everything looks good.

Energetic: Plus you can afford it! 53 =* Sweet: Yes, it's always a dilemma... 56 + Rebel: It's funny, I thought that great athletes paid attention to their diet... 49 -*

DIALOGUE 4: Hey! Can't you watch where you're going?!

Energetic: And you?! Can't you be polite?!* Sweet: I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention... = (Roy defends you) Rebel: Why don't you watch where you're going?! *

DIALOGUE 5: Roy: Well, it looks to be out of harms way.

Energetic: We make a good team! = Rebel: Thanks, but I could have handled that just fine on my own.* Sweet: Thanks. It's rather practical to be accompanied by a tall and strapping man like you. =

DIALOGUE 6: [...]

The drinks. That way, we'll have the heavy stuff at the bottom of the bag. = TRIGGER JASON'S ROUTE The food. That way, we'll choose the rest in accordance. = Things to snack on. It's no use to carry heavy things around with us. =

DIALOGUE 6 (bis): Jason: What am I going to do with my evening..? Certainly bore this poor gentleman until who knows when. 80 = I don't want to know. 80 = You, Sir, can come, if you want. 80 = JASON'S ILLUSTRATION

DIALOGUE 7: (this dialogue is slightly different on Amanda's route but it's the same outcome, idk about Thomas.) [...]

(Pizzas and mini-quiches to share.) = (We decided to take various pre-cooked dishes directly from a deli.) = (A whole assortment of little things to nibble on for an appetizer buffet.) =

Go back to the offices to drop off what you bought. (See Amanda's Dialogue 6 above for Taki's outfit before going back.)

DIALOGUE 8: [...]

I really want to have the party at my place. 80 TOWARDS DEVON OR ROY'S ILLU Let's go to the park! 80 TOWARDS AMANDA OR THOMAS' ILLU

Go take a shower.

Just go to your bedroom.

IF YOU HAVE YOUR PARTY AT THE PARK:

Go to your welcome party at the park!

DIALOGUE 9: Brune: Did you choose the park to avoid upsetting Amanda?

Sweet: Yeah, I thought it'd be best. 56 = Energetic: I found her idea of a neutral space a pretty good idea. 53 - Rebel: That's not really why I did it... 50 +

DIALOGUE 10: [...]

I'm one of the ninety percent of people who loves mini-quiches! = I confess that I am intrigued by the asparagus toasts... = I think I'm going to try your tapas, Brune... = I'll take some raw veggies! I want to save room for the cake. = towards amanda's illu?*

DIALOGUE 11: Brune: Let's say I'm in between... And you, Candy?

It's not really my passion either. = I love to cook! = I'm like you, Brune. =

DIALOGUE 12: [...]

So, Thomas, you have a motorcycle? TOWARDS THOMAS' ILLU Wouldn't it be time for dessert? TOWARDS AMANDA'S ILLU

IF YOU CHOSE THOMAS ANSWER:

DIALOGUE ???: thomas dialogue [...]

No, I think it's scary... * It never really tempted me. * I've never had the chance before, but I'd be curious to try! THOMAS ILLUSTRATION

IF YOU CHOSE AMANDA'S ANSWER:

DIALOGUE 13: [...]

What, it's not prestigious enough for you? 80 AMANDA'S ILLUSTRATION Come on! It's no fun alone! 80  Well, I'm going... If you don't come with me, it'll be even more ridiculous. 80

DIALOGUE 14: Amanda: The good times. When everything was easier...

Because things are complicated now? 40 = My mother was the one who took me to the park. 40 = It's true that everything seemed simpler when we were children. 40 =

IF YOU HAVE THE PARTY AT YOUR PLACE:

It's time to party!

DIALOGUE 9: [...]

What do you think of Roy? =* And you..? Well, I mean... tell me a bit about yourself...? = And you, do you get along well with Devon? =* What do you think of Thomas? =*

And you, you seem to get along very well with Brune... = Do you get along well with Amanda? =*

Show Elenda, Roy and Devon around your house.

DIALOGUE 10: [...]

Energetic: I think I'd start by taking revenge on my ex. = Rebel: It's obvious: Id rob a bank. = Sweet: Maybe I could become an investigative journalist? =

DIALOGUE 11: Elenda: No, no, I'm kidding: I don't really want to know more.

Energetic: I wouldn't mind a few more details... 53 + Roy, - Devon Rebel: Me neither, l'm not sure I'm very interested... 50 + Devon and Elenda, - Roy Sweet: (I was careful not to share my opinion.) 55 =

DIALOGUE 12: [...]

I hope that the card is for Devon... 80 TOWARDS DEVON'S ILLUSTRATION (I wonder what this card'll have in store for me...) 40 (I hope that the card is for Roy...) 80 TOWARDS ROY'S ILLUSTRATION

IF YOU CHOSE DEVON'S ANSWER:

DIALOGUE 13: [...]

You mentioned a wildcard a few seconds ago..? 80 (Delighted, I smiled at Devon from ear to ear.) 80 DEVON'S ILLUSTRATION Isn't it a little... inappropriate? 80

IF YOU CHOSE ROY'S ANSWER:

DIALOGUE 13: [...]

You mentioned a wildcard, didn't you..? 80 "Kiss", it can be on the cheek! 80 (After all, it's the game... Roy is attractive, here I go!) 80 ROY'S ILLUSTRATION

[television-bodies]

what's your favorite set design for les mis? alternatively, how would you stage it yourself?

oh anon, you have provided me with the dream question! this is about to be a very long answer.

i fell in love with les mis via the west end production in 2014 and have not been normal about it since. i was lucky enough to see said production, with that staging, quite a few times before the theatre was renovated in 2019 (this was when the revolve was removed and the production was updated to have the same staging as (i believe) every other global production of the show). since lockdowns etc ended i have seen the updated production on the west end a few times now too, and let me scream this from the rooftops: I MISS THE OLD ONE EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE

(i never like to assume people’s knowledge so i will continue here as if you’re not familiar with the key changes, and i apologise if i’m telling you things you already know!)

something that i loved about the original production is that there were almost no set pieces. there were always props, and the odd piece of set as in a wall or something e.g. the gate at rue plumet, but the majority of the settings were created through LIGHTING. examples, i hear you cry! i shall provide. my favourite example of this was in the sewers. when valjean is carrying marius, time was shown to pass as they walked around the revolve with a spotlight illuminating them every few seconds. the actors would change carrying positions in the dark gaps between these lights, so that it acted like a time jump. none of this animated scrolling backdrop screen nonsense they do now. if you haven’t already clocked it yes i am salty about this

lighting also played a bigger part in javert’s death — another point in the show at which they now have a backdrop to act sort of in place of this — the swirling water that he falls into used to be created solely through lighting effects and it was MARVELLOUS. real take your breath away type shit.

the other big point to make is about the revolve, my beloved. it was such a central part of the production but the most important use of it (and one that i see the masses on here mourn fairly often) was that at the end of the final battle, the barricade would slowly turn around to show all of the students dead across it. it was heartbreaking and beautiful and the way they have to literally wheel enjolras’ dead body onto the stage in the current production just does not have anything close to the emotional gutpunch of how it used to be staged. :’(

all in all the original production was much more stripped back visually than the show is now, and i think this served to amplify the power of the acting and singing and the PLOT whereas now it gets me down, because as much as i hate to say this, the current production sort of just looks like everything else. les mis used to be the best thing on the west end by a fucking mile, and it seems (to me) that they have lessened that gap. i understand why other productions of the show — particularly touring ones — would have to go without the revolve, but for the one on the west end, which has been in the same theatre for twenty years, i simply do not see why they thought to change it. change it for, in my clearly strong opinion, the worse.

(i will say here — as vaguely as i can — that i do have a modicum of insider knowledge, and that i can blame this change on cameron mackintosh. but that’s hardly a surprise)

this may all be coming off as very ‘old man shouts at cloud’ of me so i feel the need to say that i do still enjoy the new production — if i didn’t, i wouldn’t have been to see it multiple times. at the end of the day (ha) it is still les mis, and les mis is les mis. it’s always brilliant. i just think it used to be more, and it makes me sad that there’s nowhere to see that original staging anymore. i mean, sure, there are bootlegs. but no proshot? *breaks skateboard* alas, we seem doomed to concert versions until the end of time

thank you so much for the ask! i’m sure you can tell that you hit a nerve with this one lmao but i greatly enjoyed answering it

[watcher0033]

Just started Sherlock and Co. “The Sign of Four”. (3/10)

John’s serious intro really set the tone for me, and the absence of his nonsensical (affectionate) rambling at the start of every episode is low-key getting to me. I can still enjoy the funny bits and Mary is really starting to grow on me but yeah, *squints suspiciously*

What I’m loving so far—

Sherlock FINALLY calling Mariana, “Mariana”

John Watson leaning on the fourth wall and commenting on the racial/cultural stereotypes because some ACD aspects didn't age well.

The lewd weird sex thing Sherlock and John were apparently up to in West London. 🌕🍑✨ Oh my. 🫢😂

Mary’s heartbreak and vulnerability and her persevering strength to live through it all and John uplifting her. I’m starting to love her as well.

“—You can stop hanging around Mary now.” Ah, Jealous!Sherlock how I miss you so 😼 haha in every adaptation istg

John affirming over and over again that him and Sherlock are soulmates. Him and Mariana are the crutches of his world. (which gives me joy and undercurrent of heartbreak)

A bit of a dark humor but them sidelining updates to their client and the near constant conscious reminder that they need to get over their drama because a 14 yr old boy is missing like guys, get a grip 😭

SHERLOCK AND CO GOING INTERNATIONAL. WAHEYYYY

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: In Which Chilchuck Begrudgingly Has Feelings for his Coworkers, and Kabru Has...Something. He Sure Has Something Going On Over There.

Before we continue, I feel I should clarify 2 things:

I've been trying, ish, to avoid spoilers for this comic, but I've watched through the Golden Country episode and more importantly I'm so bad at not reading spoiler-y but interesting- and insightful-looking analysis. So, much of this commentary isn't wholly original and any particularly genius theories of future events are likely made with actual foreknowledge.

When I said on the first post that I was starting the comic because "I need to know what happens", what I specifically meant was "I need to know how the Laios-Kabru dynamic ends up, and the general geopolitical situation, so I can accurately daydream what sort of tariffs they'll set in the kingdom of which Laios is definitely not going to be the one managing the political, economic, or social minutia." Tariffs are going to be important, okay. They're a key way a nation-state interacts with other nation-states, especially one with rare materials to trade, powerful neighbors who want them, and the natural barrier of an ocean. Truly, every fantasy series ever should be required to have an epilogue or many an additional book/season/etc of a The West Wing-style depiction of day-to-day governance of whatever resulted from the story's climactic finale.

Okay, back to the liveblog.

.

Inch resting. The manga characters, having met the Mad Mage, keep using she/her pronouns for them, where in the anime they used he/him. I assume one of these is just, like, wrong - some translation choice was made before truth was revealed later in the course of publication?

But it makes SENSE that the characters wouldn't necessarily know, at this point! The Mage's appearance is pretty gender-neutral, especially as an elf, an notably gender-ambiguous race. So the characters in the manga picked one guess and stuck with it, and the characters is the very slightly alternate timeline of the anime picked another and stuck with that!

Now: having used they/them throughout this musing and previously he/him because a) the show and b) that's what I saw in fandom, I think I'll switch to referring to the Mage with she/her pronouns now. Because A) that's how the thing I'm reading apparently will be doing it, and B) they still call her "Lord of the Dungeon", which is obviously the greatest gender option of all.

...however, the manga does keep saying "lunatic magician" rather than "Mad Mage" (caps mine), which is a TOTAL failing in drama. Always alliterate, preferably archaically.

.

Orc woman: Ugh, this halffoot sucks. I'll tolerate his company only as a favor to the vegetable guy.

Orc woman after listening to Chilchuck complain about his coworkers for an hour: Nvm, this halffoot is a worthy and loyal friend of the vegetable seller, and I guess those other guys too. He's just emotionally constipated about it.

.

Laios just has these soft little fond smiles sometimes and I? want to hug him?

.

MY MAN IS BACK!! Kabru wink count: 1 this chapter, 4 total [updated as I read]

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Corpse Retriever: If you don't report us for trying to get you guys killed so we could collect a retrieval fee, we'll let you kill those two of our guys who are already unconscious and collect that fee yourselves. We'll just take 30% of it, for not telling on you.

Kabru, internally: Hm. Well, I'm not king of this dungeon yet, but nonetheless I feel comfortable passing and executing a just judgement upon you for your many known, presumed and planned crimes. Emphasis on 'executing.'

Kabru aloud: I accept!

Kabru: [starts killing them with a classic faint, wide-eyed smile]

What a guy. He's even holding that knife so well. Look, next he's analyzing social trends and acting ruthlessly to adjust them toward the direction of the greater good!

What a guy. Truly this is a "so my type that it's embarrassing" situation.

.

I can't efficiently crop panels to show all this, but favorite parallels in these chapters full of parallels:

Kabru's breakdown of the Touden party is like Laios eagerly explaining and analyzing the behavior and anatomy of monsters (including, though we don't know it yet, calculations for killing them - though we DO see him saying that humans are easy to kill because he knows all the physical weak points!)

The references throughout these two chapters, by Kabru and his party, to the interconnected socioeconomic dynamics of the island and dungeon - the corrupted system fails to check corpse retrievers, the Island Lord as an annoying but necessary bulwark against the Elves, the dungeon growing hungrier as fewer adventurers go down because there's less money and more risk - are so so so like Senshi and Laiois discussing the dungeon biome's ecosystem and food pyramid.

The whole vibe of the party re: their respective weirdo tallman leaders. We watched Team Laios develop this, recently crowned with Chilchuck's near-tearful argument to turn back for a rest, which means we can recognize it when we're dropped into it with Team Kabru: that "this guy is SUCH a goddamn weirdo, but I already followed him into some level of hell, so I'm obviously not turning back now." Kabru's party does think he's weird - "You remember so much about other people that it's creepy." "Why are you enjoying this?" But they're also pitching in on the speculation like Team Touden all hel cook monsters. Compare:

Also!! Something something predisposed beliefs and presumptions of others... This party is so eager to assume the worst of our party, even though our party objectively saved them from perma-death twice, once from ghosts and once from being eaten by fishmen. Chichuck is greedy and bossy, Senshi smells so...notably...that he's judged to be sketchy af... Kabru is trying his best with what info he has, he knows it's not enough to pass a judgement and he wants more, but it's very...uncomfortable? To see this sort of discussion of people we know are great, when we're so used to watching monsters be killed with exquisite understanding and respect.

...I'll chew on that angle of theme more later. Man, you know how, say, what makes the musical Hamilton so good is at its heart it's just like 5-10 leitmotifs that interweave to create every single song? Dungeon Meshi is like that. Hmm a Dungeon Meshical...

.

"Yeah, yeah, we've all heard your weekly lecture about how someone responsible and sociopolitically conscious needs to take the dungeon and the throne or everyone in this region is doomed. None of us can wait to see you flip off the Island Lord to his face. Eat your rations, buddy."

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JUST THE CUTEST, INNOCENTEST, POLITEST, HELPFULEST (WITH NO ULTERIOR MOTIVATIONS WHATSOEVER) YOUNG MAN!! LOOK AT HIS BIG BLUE EYES AND EAGER LITTLE SMILE!

[3 seconds earlier:

I'm obsessed. In the spirit of this comic: I want to eat him with a spoon. I want to take small divots out of him and lick each one carefully off the spoon, luxuriously exploring and enjoying the complex texture and flavor. Like he's a really good pudding. And then I want to see if, if he and Laios kiss, do they both explode in antimatter.

[hesbianyaoi]

The Soukokus and the Four Symbols: Pt 1

STARTING OFF BY SAYING: This is just a fun connection/"theory" (if you would call it that) I made while reading BSD, so not everything will be connected exactly to the T. I just love mythology and Byakko has already been confirmed to be a celestial being thanks to chapter 119, so in any case, buckle up and enjoy my insanity.

WHO AND WHAT EXACTLY ARE THE FOUR SYMBOLS?

The Four Symbols—also known as the Four Guardians or the Four Gods—are constellations and mythological creatures in Chinese (and other countries in the Sinosphere) culture that are believed to be the protectors of the four cardinal points: the North, South, East and West.

They also had correspondence with the Five Phases (Wuxing), the philosophy that the fundamentals to the universe were composed of elements and their relationships to one another. These elements include nature, seasons, times of day, directions, and colors.

The Four Symbols are the Azure Dragon of the East, the White Tiger of the West, the Vermilion Bird of the South, and the Black Tortoise of the North.

Sound familiar?

It's like how Soukoku + Shin Soukoku is associated with the colors blue/red and black/white. This alone wouldn't be enough for me to make this entire thing such a big post in the first place, though; it's the very nature of everything else in Bungo Stray Dogs concerning the Soukoku's and the subtle symbolism they have connecting them to these divine beings.

For the sake of my own mind, we'll be discussing Shin Soukoku in this post, as they have the most relevance to the recent update and to their associated guardians/gods. Interesting since they create such a unique Singularity, right?

ATSUSHI: BYAKKO, THE GUARDIAN OF THE WEST

We have the most information about Byakko thus far, so it only seems fair to start off with her.

Byakko's associations with Wuxing include the color white, sunsets, autumn and its desolation, and the west itself. These are things Atsushi is commonly associated with, such as sunset/moon symbolism, how the sun sets in the west during the autumn equinox, even his joke title of the Wimp of The West in chapter 33.

Atsushi's white tiger is something we already know is highly sought after from all around the world, and we already know that the tiger itself is a "bookmark" to locate the book. The Book is obviously representative of something otherworldly, something as heavenly as its association with creation and life, and of course, Byakko is the literal guide to finding it. Because of course she is.

Byakko is more than just a white tiger; it is the embodiment of justice, protectiveness, and righteousness. It is the king of beasts and a capable warrior. She's more than just an ability (as we see in Dead Apple, alongside Rashōmōn, since they're the only two that take their own forms compared to everyone else's abilities being mirrors of themselves) as she resides inside of Atsushi's body as another physical being entirely.

Canonically, abilities are described as receiving their power by their user's souls, which is why an ability will disintegrate once their user dies.

But Byakko is not just Atsushi's ability; she is an entire being residing within him, two souls in one body. And not just any being, but a god.

It's also speculation on my part, but Byakko is often referred to as the "key" to finding The Book when in actuality, she's most likely protecting it. Fitting of the White Tiger's role as a guardian of justice and morality—if it fell into the wrong hands, balance would be broken.

AKUTAGAWA: GENBU, THE GUARDIAN OF THE NORTH

Also known as the Black Warrior of the North, as the character 武 translates to warrior/knight and is a much more faithful translation. Compared to Atsushi's more blatant connection to Byakko, Akutagawa's connection to Genbu relies more on subtlety, which I would say picked up during chapters 117.

His death, becoming a vampire, and the time spanning from his death until now could also count as a form of hibernation, given the fact tortoises hibernate and winter is the prime time for hibernation to occur, which aligns with Genbu's associations with Wuxing: the color black, winter and its frost, midnight (prime time for traditional vampires), and the north itself.

From the beginning, Akutagawa has always been associated with black as his signature color. Rashomon, his armor, is his protective "shell" like that of a tortoise. In the most literal sense, he is a warrior—a true knight, further emphasized by Bram's final wishes and desires to protect. It's also worth mentioning that the Tortoise is revered as a pillar of support during challenging times.

Honestly, need I say more?

Genbu is also associated with resilience, wisdom, and most importantly, immorality. The story of the Black Tortoise (Xuanwu) varies from legend to legend, but the general base for the story is the same: Xuanwu was once a mortal who achieved enlightenment and became immortal by pulling out his stomach and intestines, the last remains of his human parts. Once he pulls them out, they become demons, and he must subdue and tame them—quite literally overcoming his own sins.

In a twisted sense, Akutagawa's death was a form of enlightenment.

He dies believing that Dazai truly didn't abandon him, that this was all just a test, and thus he dies with a smile on his face. Now that Akutagawa is awake, he doesn't remember anything besides his knightly duties. It is a new beginning for him, one without the demons of his past weighing him down internally.

He is anew. He is enlightened.

SO, WHAT COULD THIS MEAN?

That's the thing. It could mean nothing at all except for speculation. It could mean something bigger in store for the future of the story. The point is that we don't know what could happen or what any of this could mean outside of correspondence with mythological archetypes. Regardless if this actually contributes anything to the plot, the similarities between Akutagawa-Atsushi and the White Tiger-Black Warrior were too fun to resist talking about, which brings up another point.

Byakko and Genbu, Baihu and Xuanwu, Atsushi and Akutagawa, the new Double Black. They all represent the same thing: balance.

The tiger is representative of its protectiveness and righteousness whilst the tortoise is associated with its wisdom and the strength of a warrior. All four guardians are responsible for the balance of the cosmos and nature itself, and for the Soukokus, it is the same.

The balance they fight to keep is not only between themselves and each other but for Yokohama, for the fabric of reality itself. (And it's something I want to go deeper into when I focus on Dazai & Chuuya next.)

[onlyseokmins]

idiot • h.j.s.

Pairing: joshua hong x afab!reader

Genres: mentions of smut (minors dni!), fwb!au, swearing but fluff and comfort basically

Warnings: menstrual cramps, food, swearing, and beloved idiots haha

WC: tumblr mobile idrk haha just a blurb

A/N: Sorry randomly thought of this while leaving work - in the middle of a Hoshi fic lmaooo okay I wanted to do smth angsty but I need love rn and haven't finished smth this fast in months and not really smut but anyways, imagine a fwb!relationship with Joshua but not quite...

↪ 7/14/23 update: loosely based prequel

It's like you're not really friends but you do have the benefits of fucking the hot man that drifts to and from different social circles among the large friend groups you mingle about and share.

You know his favorite color of lingerie that he'll rip off immediately, shoving your panties in his pocket ("for later," he winks and promises to buy you a new pair every time - he doesn't). But you are sure he doesn't even know your favorite color (it's baby blue, the same color of the shirt he wore when you first met - coincidentally the same one he wore when he seduced and ended up fingering you against the wall of the club's bathroom and then propositioned this arrangement - and like a fool, who are you to say no?).

He's always been nice - too nice. So nice, he's aloof at most times. Never letting anyone too close. And you really try not to yearn to be the first one he opens his heart to.

Definitely not.

It's why you're crying in bed one late afternoon, chalking it up to the hormones and cramps that come with mother nature's wrath. There's a gentle knock on your door before the key code is punched in. You think it's Seungkwan, the kind soul who always stops by to bring goodies and solid words of wisdom you never dare act on but no - it's fucking Joshua Hong.

"What are you doing here, I'm on my period."

You're grouchy and while it's not his fault that it's that time of the month, it is his fault that you're even more irritable than normal. Oh, and maybe those stupid feelings or whatever.

"I know."

All he does is simply nod and set down the bags he's carrying, taking stuff out that you realize are pain meds, compresses, ice packs - your cheeks heat up - even a stash of various pads and tampons.

"Seungkwan, that lil bitch."

Joshua turns with a raised eyebrow, holding what you recognize is a takeout container from your favorite restaurant. One that's all the way across town so you rarely go.

"What does this have to do with Seungkwan?"

You sigh. "Look, if he forced you to bring this stuff or somehow blackmailed you, don't worry. I'll chew him out on your behalf later."

He laughs, opening up the food and unwrapping the utensils, waving them in your face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not!"

"You're saying you drove all the way to Seokmin's place to buy that - mind you it's even further of a drive there for you than it is for me - and bought hygienic products?"

"Yeah. I didn't know exactly what to get so I just grabbed everything on the shelf."

"What the fuck, Joshua. Why? I'm not fucking you, I feel like shit. I also look like shit."

He flinches but gives you a glance-over that has you frowning even harder. "I'll admit you do look very pretty with my cock inside of you or when you get all dolled up..."

You roll your eyes and flop back on your bed, rolling over so your back faces him out of spite.

"But you do look hella sweet right now. Even if you're pissed off."

"Don't placate me, I'm not fucking you. I won't suck you off either."

Joshua's soft laugh makes your heart flip-flop. "I'm not here for that. How hard is it for you to believe that I came to really take care of you?"

"If the sun rises in the west tomorrow, I wouldn't be surprised. Clearly you're just a hallucination."

"Did you know hallucinations are our true desires?"

"Where'd you hear such bull crap? Jeonghan?"

"No," he snorts, "but I know you like me."

"I'm not fucking you the next time you want to either. Actually, I might not fuck you ever again."

It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth honestly, especially when he touches your shoulder with a gentleness that shouldn't exist. You glare at him. He smiles.

"That's fine. I mean, I'd like to fuck again sometime in the future but just hanging out is cool too. Maybe even for dates?"

"Maybe you're right. You're nothing but a figment of my imagination."

"Then I'm also right that you like me."

"Do not!" You throw the covers over your head. "Remember, we fuck without feelings, Joshua. And remember who set that rule, Mr. Hong?"

"An idiot did. So what if that idiot changed his mind?"

"He'd still be an idiot."

"... Correct, but may I clarify - an idiot with feelings."

When you emerge and peek out from the blankets, he's fiddling with his fingers nervously.

"Would still be an idiot."

"An idiot that likes you."

"Whatever," you huff but he sees the smile on your lips before you're diving away from sight again.

Relief floods him, knowing he's not wrong - you like him too. Laying gently over your prone body, he hums in content.

"When you feel better let's go on a date." All you do is wiggle beneath him and he smirks. "I'll wear that shirt you like. You know, the blue one."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, not like you jump me every time I wear it."

"I do not!"

"It's okay, I know a lot more than you can guess but I still think you're cute anyways."

And maybe you realize it's you that doesn't know Joshua all that well. But he seems to think he knows an awfully lot about you. And maybe he does. But you want to prove him wrong.

"Alright, let's go on a date," you peek back out, the blankets a shield between you and him as they're pulled high under your nose. But he's still looking at where your mouth (he's never kissed - yet) would be. Bastard. "Wear that stupid shirt and I'll prove I won't jump you."

His warm brown eyes crinkle playfully. "Sure, let's, I'll buy you a couple of pretty sets like I promised since I ripped so many."

"About time."

He shrugs. "Don't worry, I'll make up for it. I was worried about what you would think it meant but now I don't have to care. I want it to be official."

You take the food from him when he brings it back over. "I guess I do too if you're going to drive so far just to get Seok's delicious food."

"So I'm just an errand boy to you? That's all it took to get to your heart? Seokmin's food?"

Looking at him under your lashes, you bite your lip. "You know it's much more than that..."

Joshua laughs, big and bright - just like the moment he first caught your attention. "And just so you know, I like you much more than you think."

And he'll spend all of his time proving it.

[sasterisk]

I've recently gotten into ION Object Show. It's unique, nothing quite like it. I'm on anon as the show has sparked some controversy. It has one of the most faithfully depicted autistic characters I've seen in media as well. Basically it's a passion project I'm low-key begging people to give a chance to.

Alright y'all I just finished watching ION, here's my thoughts;

Overall I quite enjoyed it! Excited to see what happens next, and I have some notes to share as well;

LOVE THE ART STYLE. it was a bit jarring at first but for a story of this type, the typical object show art styles wouldn't communicate the stakes effectively imo. It also works to show the complexity of the emotions on display here, this is a horrible situation for anyone to be in, and the expressions communicate that very well

The backstory is... predictable... but I can see that they are moving quickly with it to get to what these characters actually go through. Appreciate that, don't drag out what we can guess had happened as this big mystery (or throw some curveballs and prove one of the earliest theories right *ahem* steven universe *ahem*)

The story that we are shown so far is really good! No descriptive notes on that for me.

I like the characters! From what I've heard Cracklin is a pretty realistic autism rep, I don't have autism myself so I can't comment on that but love to see some representation. Chief is the stoic on the outside, desperate to find a solution on the inside, and seems to be very loyal to others. Sylvia is snarky and sarcastic, love-to-hate-her situation! Well done!

some of the "awkwardness" in the writing I believe stems from the language barrier and cultural differences between the "west-side" of the OSC and Russians (to me, some similar awkwardness happens with Metal Family for instance), so I'm giving it a pass there, I'm sure it feels much more natural in its native language!

I'm excited to see what kind of stuff happens in the series later!!! I sent it to my non OSC boyfriend (only other show he's watched is ONE because I told him to lol) to watch since this is the kind of genre that he really enjoys, I shall update with his thoughts :P;

Update with his thoughts: watched the first episode and then had to go to sleep BUUUTTT he immediately started theorizing about Orange Herald teehee :)