#only to find out that its a super common thing and there are solutions or accomodations

[em1i2a3]

Adore Me

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader!

Summary: When the air conditioner of the Watchtower breaks during peak summertime, Bob finds an odd solution to your overheating problem.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut and Fluff yall. Bob and Reader are in an established friends with benefits relationship (that has hints of something more), Bob is a problem solver lol.

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up yall), Temperature Play, Fingering, Oral Sex (fem! Receiving), Nipple Play, Dirty Talk, Bob is a bit freaky in this, but it’s a great change up, Spit Kink (kind of…An interesting take on it lol) Bob is totally a super soft dom in here to be completely honest and he’s an absolute tease, Aftercare (cause it’s essential and we love aftercare scenes!)

Authors Note: It is disgustingly hot where I live at the moment and I got this idea when I was writing something else and thought ‘Jesus Christ this is perfect’ and EUREKA 💡 it’s been made and created. And it’s so fitting cause today is supposed to be one of the hottest days of the year where I live and I’ve been sweating it up, so CHEERS TO THAT! Enjoy the read yall ❤️❤️

Word Count: 9,364

You felt like you were choking on the air you were breathing. It clung to your lungs like steam in a sauna, heavy and thick, each inhale a sluggish, labored thing that coated the inside of your throat with undeniable heat. The Watchtower had become a pressure cooker–walls sweating, tempers rising, body’s slowly melting into puddles of collective misery.

The central air system had sputtered its final breath two days ago, and since then, the compound had been thrown into environmental purgatory. Val, of course, couldn’t be bothered.

“You’ve been trained in worse conditions? So there’s a little bit of heat…” She said over the comms, dismissing the situation with a lazy flick of her tongue, “Adapt. Hydrate. Be resourceful. You guys are a bunch of trained professionals. Jesus.”

Bucky had tried to find a solution by rush-ordering industrial-grade fans for everyone’s room. It was a notable effort, but ultimately it turned futile–the machines just churned around warm air like oversized hairdryers, only adding to the misery. Everyone had begun to crack in their own unhinged little ways soon after.

Walker had abandoned his bedroom entirely, calling it a hotbox of death–because it was facing the sun head on–and was now taking refuge on the cool concrete floor of the weapons bay, curled up beside an icebox and using a half-eaten bag of frozen peas as his pillow. Nobody knew if he was the one who ate the peas, and truly no one wanted to ask.

Alexei had opted to walk around shirtless, unapologetically drenched, swearing in Russian every time his back stuck to the leather chairs of the common room. You hadn’t seen cotton touch his torso in thirty-six hours.

Ava had tried to stick her head in the freezer at least three times–silent, dead-eyed, standing with the door propped open like a statue. She once murmured, “There’s no use…Not even the freezer can cool me down,” Before slamming the door shut and stomping away angrily.

Yelena didn’t even pretend to tough it out. She booked a hotel in the city with central air and an infinity pool and sent a group text that read: Temporarily unavailable. Followed by a photo of her in a robe, flipping everyone off.

You, on the other hand, were stuck in the sweltering hellhole that used to be the Watchtower. Unfortunately, you had responsibilities. Paperwork, of all godforsaken things–an Everest-sized pile of clearance reports, post-op evaluations, requisition forms, and incident debriefs that needed to be reviewed and signed off yesterday. As you worked through it though you were convinced the paper pile was actively multiplying every time you blinked.

You had stripped down to bare undergarments midway through the first day of this whole ordeal–tank tops and boy shorts, cycling through a mix of fabrics and colours, and faded cotton that clung to your skin within minutes of putting it on. A real outfit felt like a joke at this point. The way your thighs stuck to chairs, the way your bra would turn into a soaked band of torture across your ribs–it was all unbearable. So you stopped pretending, cause everyone had seen you in much less–unfortunately. A little skin in the name of not dying seemed fair game.

You’d made camp in the common room, spread out across the wooden floor: limbs splayed, eyes half-lidded, lips dry, surrounded by open folders and half-filled forms. Your pen was stuck between your fingers, and your knees were damp from the humidity clinging to the floorboards. You used half-complete reports as manual fans, your wrist flicking back and forth in a tired desperate rhythm.

Under the dim overhead lights your skin was shimmering. Sweat collected in the hollow of your throat, slicked down your back in slow, miserable trails, and glistened across your chest in a sheen that was just enough to be maddening.

Especially to Bob.

Bob wasn’t bothered by the heat–not one bit. In fact, he seemed to be thriving in it. While the rest of the compound staggered around like melting wax figures, Bob was walking proof that some unholy fusion of celestial physiology and boyish stubbornness could, against all logic, turn a heatwave into a personal spa retreat. His body already ran hot, warmer than any humans should be, so the shift in temperature just…Matched him. Balanced him. He was in his element. You’d caught him once humming as he refilled your water bottle and didn’t even look winded. It had taken every ounce of your willpower not to throw a folder at him out of sheer spite.

But as much as Bob was coasting through the inferno like a Sun God in July, there was one thing the heat did make difficult, and that was you.

More specifically: being around you without physically attaching himself to every available inch of your skin. And that was a problem. Because all you wanted was to peel your limbs off your own body and shove your head in the freezer next to Ava’s.

The first night the central air had gasped its last breath, you had trudged into your room in a haze of exhaustion and heat delirium. Your tank top was soaked, your shorts were riding up in ways that made you irrationally furious, and your entire back felt like it had been slow-roasted on a rack. All you wanted was to collapse onto your bed, cool yourself down on your fresh pillow, and not die.

Bob had followed in behind you a few minutes later. Barefoot, shirtless in his boxer shorts, and radiating heat like a bonfire. You had barely flattened yourself on the mattress before you felt the bed dip and a very warm, very clingy arm wrap around your middle.

“Bob–no. No. You’re a human space heater. I am going to combust.” He had blinked down at you like you had kicked him, lip tugging downward, but he didn’t retreat. His eyes shimmered slightly.

”Just–Just my arm. I won’t move around and make it hotter! I pr-promise! How about my leg? Just a little le-leg.” You tried to slither out from his trap, but he was persistent, curling his body around you like a cat trying to fit into a shoebox, “You know I ca-can’t sleep without cuddling you…Please.” He begged.

In the end, you had given up just enough to let him have his victory–an arm draped over your waist, a thigh tucked between your sweaty ones. His skin was boiling, his breath stuck to your neck, and you were sweating so much your sheets were damp. But he sighed with such softness and content, like that moment of closeness was everything he needed. And even though you mumbled curses and threatened to sleep on the floor next time, you didn’t push him off.

Now, he was watching you from his usual perch in the common room, planted in one of the worn armchairs, looking relaxed, comfortable-and absolutely lovesick in shorts and a t-shirt.

Every movement made your tank top shift and stick in new ways. A bead of sweat curved down your chest, catching the attention of Bob’s traitorous eyes before he jerked his gaze away, returning it to the book in front of him, like he hadn’t been staring.

You weren’t even trying to be provocative. You were just trying not to pass out. But the heat had made you soft-limbed, loose-spined, and languid. It made you sigh out loud and stretch like a cat, chasing relief. And every time you did, Bob’s eyes trailed after you like he was tethered. He swallowed thickly when you adjusted your posture again, thigh flexing, tank top riding up a bit more, your sweat-dampened back arching ever so slightly as you reached for another form.

You didn’t look at him when you spoke, but your voice was low and teasing. “Your eyes are gonna burn holes in me if you keep staring like that.”

Bob stiffened in his chair, legs snapping closer together. “I–uh. Wasn’t–” You snorted softly, not buying it for a second.

“You forget how I can feel when you’re looking at me.” You said, still not looking up from your papers, “Your gaze is like a goddamn laser. Feels like I’ve got sunburn from the inside out.” You could hear the hesitation in his breath, the soft rustle of fabric as he fidgeted in his seat, gathering the courage to speak. And then–

“Well…Ev-even though you’re melting…” He started, voice cracking like a sun-baked sidewalk, “I still th-think you’re… pretty.” You paused, pen hovering above a requisition form like you were about to stab a signature into it, then slowly tilted your head up. Your eyes locked onto him from across the room, narrowing ever so slightly.

“Bob,” You warned, a soft edge to your voice. “You know I’m a softie for compliments and your face…”

His lips twitched into a nervous smile, hopeful–but you cut him off.

“…But I swear to God, I think I would kill you if you even attempted to take my clothes off to have sex with me right now.” Bob’s lashes fluttered rapidly and he swallowed hard, the book lowering to his lap slightly.

”I-I was just s-saying you looked p-pretty…” He mumbled, face turning scarlet. You squinted, pointing your pen at him accusingly.

”Yes. And then it escalates. It always escalates.” Bob’s mouth opened like he wanted to object, but you were already rolling, “You say I look pretty, then it’s something about how good I look in the outfit I’m wearing–which is barely even an outfit, mind you–then you get all sentimental and say something sappy like ‘I’m so lucky to have a friend like you’ and ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you’ and blah, blah, blah–I’m not falling for it.” Bob looked like a man trying to explain himself at a trial with no legal counsel.

”I–I didn’t–this time, I wasn’t gonna–“ You lifted a brow, and he wilted a little further into his armchair, “Okay…I might’ve said something sappy later…Maybe.” You snorted and went back to fanning yourself with a requisition form.

”Exactly.”

“But–“ He tried, hands wringing in his lap, “You do look really go-good right now. Even with the sweat…And the uh…Paper stuck to your thigh.” He added. You glanced down and sighed, peeling a requisition form off your leg and flinging it to the side. Bob let out a small laugh at the sight, before lowering his voice.

”I really wasn’t trying to escalate. I know you’d kill me if I even–tried. I’d pr-probably turn into the sun the second I touched you.”

“You would,” You replied firmly, wiping a drop of sweat from your collarbone, “I’d light you up like a match.” There was a pause, then he hummed.

”…It’d still be wo–worth it.” You looked up again, slowly. Bob looked sheepish, guilty, and totally sincere.

“You’re lucky I’m too exhausted to throw something at you.” Bob smiled a little wider now, cautiously hopeful.

”Could I at least get a hug?” You groaned.

”No…”

”A sweaty hug?” He corrected, as you dragged your hands down your face, shaking your head. He stood anyway, walking over with slow, careful steps. You felt his shadow fall over you, tall and soft at the edges, and when you peeked up, he was grinning down at you–dimples and all.

”I’ll just hover then,” He said, crouching next to you and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, tasting a bead of sweat on his lips, before settling down beside your paper fortress, legs stretching out beside yours.

You let out a soft laugh through your nose–quiet, breathy, the kind of sound that would’ve floated past someone else entirely. But not Bob. Never Bob. He absorbed everything you did like a sponge pressed to water–hyper aware, quietly observant, and always aching in the silence between moments. No matter what you were doing, he always made it feel like he was watching an artist paint their biggest masterpiece.

You could’ve been cleaning blood off your boots, half–catatonic from fatigue, or wearing yesterday’s tank top turned inside out, it didn’t matter to him. He looked at you like he was witnessing a miracle, and it was never just lust that filled his eyes, never only want–it was that stunned, adoring kind of interest that made you feel like the world quieted when you moved.

Even now, in this godforsaken heat, when your skin felt slick and your hair clung to the back of your neck, he sat beside you like he was somewhere sacred. His shoulder barely grazed yours, but you could feel it–the press of his attention, the steady warmth of his presence folding over you like a second sun.

And despite your endless complaints, despite telling him time and time again that you were overheating and one more inch of skin contact might kill you, you were glad he hadn’t listened. Not fully. Because the truth was–you liked that he didn’t give you space. Not really. You liked the orbit of him. The magnetism. The strange, constant gravity that pulled him to you no matter the setting.

Ever since the two of you started hooking up though, that tether had only grown stronger. It didn’t matter if you were in bed or on opposite ends of the training floor–your bodies reached for each other instinctively. Your minds always seemed to be aware of one another in a way that felt cellular.

And though you were actively trying not to spontaneously combust under the heat dome that was the Watchtower, though you’d explicitly told him not to try anything, you still craved him. The pull of his voice, the shape of his breath, the way he sat beside you like you were something holy that made him forget himself.

But until something–anything–cooled you down enough not to literally die during sex, you had to suppress it.

You kept working, even as the sweat made your pen slippery in your grip. Even as your thighs stuck to the hardwood and your spine ached from the sticky angle of your slouch. You scribbled notes into the margins of reports for Val–“Slight concussion, extreme belligerence. Unsure if it was the wound.” All the while, you felt Bob watching you.

Now that he was close, it was worse. His gaze was warm. Not burning. Not greedy. But hot–like you’d stepped into late afternoon sunlight and knew it was going to follow you until dusk. He watched the way your collarbone caught the light, the slow trail of sweat that disappeared beneath the line of your tank top, the rise and fall of your chest like a tide he wanted to wade into.

He could smell you now, too. Your body wash–the mix of basil, blueberry, and lemon–had softened and bloomed in the heat, curling around you like a halo of late-summer air. You smelled like a drink he wanted to taste, a memory he wanted to bottle and keep forever. It made his throat feel thick. It made something ancient and hungry stir in him.

You swiped a hand across your forehead again, let out a huff, signed another sheet–and that’s when you felt his gaze sharpen.

”Bob,” You said dryly, not even glancing at him “Keep your eyes to yours–“

”There’s ic-ice in the freezer,” He interrupted, voice cracking slightly like it was tripping on the edge of his desire. You paused, turning your head toward him with a squint.

”Yeah? And why are you bringing that up so randomly?” His eyes widened at bit, then he flushed, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck–a tell that he was nervous.

”Maybe I want to…Cool you do–down?” Your eyes narrowed, the corner of your mouth twitching up in slow suspicion.

“Yeah? And how would you do that?” He hesitated–just for a moment–and then leaned in ever so slightly, his voice low, uncertain, trembling with barely-leashed tenderness.

”Why don’t you let me sh-show you?” God, the way he said it–it wasn’t a line. It wasn’t cocky. It wasn’t even seductive in the traditional sense. It was something softer than that. Sweeter. Gentler.

It was Bob wanting to worship, not possess. To soothe, not seduce. It was in the way his voice cracked around the word show, like he meant something more than just a practical gesture. Like he wanted to lay you down and press ice to every patch of you that felt too hot, not to make you moan, but to make you breathe again.

Like cooling you down would be an honor.

He wasn’t talking about sex. Not entirely at least. He was talking about the intimacy of care. The small, slow rituals that said I see you, I know you, I’ll take care of this part too.

You felt it in your spine–the way the suggestion settled, the weight of the moment bending inward like a candle flame curling toward its own wax. You turned your head slowly to look at him and found him already watching you with that same melted-lovely stare. Eyes wide. Lips parted. Hope curling behind his lashes.

He looked like he was waiting for permission to make the heat bearable. Waiting to touch you only if it meant relief.

Your throat worked once, then you set your pen down.

“…Alright then, Bob,” You murmured, tilting your head. “Show me.” Bob shot to his feet like a firework, the shift from softness to sudden motion making you laugh a bit. He offered you both hands, palms open, eyes bright with some boyish spark you hadn’t seen since before the heatwave hit.

“C’mon,” He urged, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips like he was already proud of whatever plan had rooted itself in his head. You glanced down at his hands, then back up at him.

”You’re not gonna do it here?” He shook his head quickly, his light brown, sun-kissed strands of hair flopping slightly.

”Tr-Trust me,” He said with a nervous unmistakable glimmer in his eye, “You want to do it in a be-bedroom.” Your stomach flipped. Not because it sounded dirty–though your traitorous mind was already sprinting toward some variation of shirtless–Bob dripping ice water down your spine–but because of the tone, and the way he said it. So sure. So gentle. So full of barely concealed affection. Your skin prickled from anticipation. He helped you up from the floor with ease, and turned, starting for the hallway.

You followed closely behind, your legs stiff and heavy from too much time on the floor. He stopped at the kitchen, and you caught the distinct sound of the freezer opening, the crinkle of plastic, the quiet clatter of something.

Curious, you poked your head around the corner–only to find Bob standing in front of the counter, brow furrowed in focus, tearing open a large bag of ice with his teeth and pouring generous handfuls into a wide stainless steel mixing bowl. The ice chimed and cracked as it landed, a sound almost obscene in the still, overheated silence of the Watchtower.

Your eyebrows rose.

Bob caught your expression immediately and looked sheepish, shrugging one shoulder at you.

”The mo-more the merrier,” He commented, lifting the bowl like a trophy. You huffed a laugh, low and incredulous.

”This is either going to be really sweet or very dumb,” You muttered, shaking your head as he approached.

”It’ll definitely be both.” He replied, not missing a beat.

He took your hand in his free one, fingers warm and steady even as he balanced the cold weight of the bowl in the other. His thumb slid along your knuckles as he led you back down the hallway, his touch grounding despite the faint sheen of sweat that coated you, it only took a few steps until you finally reached your room.

It was hot there. Thick, slow, swampy heat. The kind that stuck to the corners of the ceiling and refused to move. The blackout drapes you’d thrown up were trying their best, but the sun still managed to bleed in around the edges–gold streaks slicing through the air like knives. The only saving grace was the cracked window above your headboard, which at night had allowed the barest hint of a breeze to creep in. It didn’t help much–but it was something at least.

Your room was a lived-in kind of mess. A fan sat on your desk, humming uselessly. There were two half-drunk bottles of water near your nightstand, a crumpled hoodie discarded on the floor, and the sheets were tangled from restless nights. Still, it smelled like you. That same clean, citrus-sweet scent that clung to your skin. Bob inhaled it without even thinking.

He moved with purpose now, stepping around you to the bed, placing the bowl of ice on your side table before grabbing the nearest towel from your hamper–fresh, fluffy, cream-colored. He spread it over the foot of your bed carefully, smoothing out the creases like he was setting a picnic for something sacred.

“Okay,” He said, crouching slightly and patting the towel with one hand, “You sit th–there. And I’ll sit behind you.”

His voice was soft. Intentional. No teasing now–just quiet care threading every syllable. And it did something to you. Something that reached down into the heat-numbed center of your chest and gave it a gentle squeeze.

You obeyed without a word, stepping forward and sitting on the edge of the bed, the towel rough and cool beneath your thighs. You could hear the clink of ice behind you, the shifting of his body as the mattress shifted under his weight. And then, slowly, the warmth of him pressed close behind–legs on either side of yours, his knees bent so he could sit just barely higher, his breath ghosting near the back of your ear.

”Ready?” You nodded–immediately, instinctively–before the word even had time to form in your mouth.

The air was still thick and stifling, but the anticipation split through it like a thunderclap. You heard the soft rustle of movement behind you–the dip of Bob’s arm into the bowl, the telltale clink of shifting ice. A pause. A breath. And then–

Cold.

Your spine arched in reflex as the first piece of ice touched your upper back, the sensation so stark against your overheated skin that you gasped. The cube dragged in a slow, deliberate line between your shoulder blades, leaving a shivering trail in its wake. Your breath hitched.

Bob’s free hand came to rest against your waist–not forceful, not possessive, but anchoring. His palm was hot, fingers splayed across your damp skin like he needed the contact just to stay grounded.

He was slow with it.

The ice danced across your skin, trailing up and then outward over the curve of your right shoulder blade. And then the left. The path was meticulous, methodical, melting little rivers that trickled down the curve of your back until they disappeared into the band of your tank top.

You shuddered–eyes fluttering shut–just as you felt his breath behind you, warm and steady, before his lips grazed your skin.

Bob leaned in.

And then he licked the droplets off your back.

Your entire body jolted like it had been kissed by lightning. His tongue was hot, a perfect, obscene contrast to the cold that came before it. He followed the rivulets the ice had left behind, slow and deliberate, his mouth brushing against your skin with almost unbearable care. You could feel his breath between licks, the air stirring goosebumps in its wake.

“Jesus, Bob…” You whispered, voice already shaky, barely above a breath.

He didn’t respond. He just kept going.

He trailed the ice once more–lower this time, letting the cold slip just beneath the band of your tank top before dragging it back up in a long, trembling sweep. Then came his mouth again. His lips. His tongue. You felt his teeth graze your shoulder–not biting, just there, like he couldn’t help but taste the saltiness of your skin.

Every time he kissed the water from your spine, it felt like he was drinking in something sacred.

You leaned forward slightly, head bowing as your hands clutched at the towel beneath you. Your breathing was shallow, pulse thrumming behind your ears. Bob’s hand on your waist squeezed just once, steadying you.

And then his voice, soft and low and trembling with something barely restrained, broke the silence against the shell of your ear.

“Take off your sh-shirt.”

It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t even a request.

It was a prayer. A plea.

Like he couldn’t bear the barrier between you a second longer. Like he needed more of you, not just for heat or for want, but for relief. For whatever spell that had overtaken both of you in the dense summer silence of your bedroom.

Your fingers moved before your mind caught up. You gripped the hem of your soaked tank top and–slowly, shakily–peeled it upward. It clung to your skin in stubborn patches, lifting in jerks until it passed over your head, leaving you bare from the waist up. Damp. Glowing. Breathing hard.

Bob’s breath stuttered.

You could feel his eyes on your back–devouring, worshiping, stunned silent. You started to turn your head over your shoulder, to ask what he was thinking–but you didn’t get the chance.

Because the next thing you felt was the ice again–this time sliding down your spine unburdened by cloth. And then his mouth. Hot. Open. Worshipful. He let out a soft moan against your skin, the sound low and trembling like it had clawed its way up from somewhere deep. His breath was hot, reverent. “Tastes s–so good…” he whispered, the words pressed into your spine like a confession–fragile and feral all at once.

You felt the faint scrape of his teeth next, dragging along the sensitive ridge of your lower shoulder blade, making your back arch into him involuntarily. His hand–still splayed wide on your waist–tightened once, then slipped away with purpose. A soft clink sounded beside you. Another piece of ice.

And then–

Cold.

This time, not against your back, but your chest.

You gasped–body jolting forward, spine bowing–as the ice skimmed the swell of your breast. The contrast was devastating. Your skin was already buzzing from the heat and his mouth, but the sudden bite of chill stole your breath.

Bob’s lips chased the line of melting droplets down your spine, tongue trailing them like he was memorizing every bead. Every curve. Every shiver.

And then the second piece of ice–still in his other hand–dragged across your chest in slow, deliberate passes. He brought it lower, tracing under the curve of your breast, then–so slowly it almost broke you–up toward your nipple.

Your mouth fell open. A moan spilled out before you could stop it.

“Bob…H–Holy fuck, Bob.”

You felt the corners of his lips lift where they pressed to your back–smirking. Smug and innocent like he hadn’t just unraveled you with frozen water and heat.

“Wh–What?” He asked, faux-innocent, his voice thick and trembling with barely restrained want.

He circled your nipple with the ice–quick, swirling passes that sent lightning through your chest. Then, without warning, he moved to the other, just as devastating.

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered, half a prayer, half a curse.

Your body leaned back instinctively, seeking him. The moment your spine met his chest, you felt it–all of him. His warmth. The racing thrum of his heart. The hardness pressed beneath his shorts. The quiet tremble in his hands as he reached around you again.

His mouth hovered near your ear.

“Can I…” His voice was barely audible now, so close it vibrated in your bones. “Can I lick the droplets off?”

“Yes,” You breathed, without hesitation. “Yes…”

You felt him smile against your temple. Not greedy. Not cocky. Just grateful. Devoted.

He slipped off the bed slowly, deliberately. His palms ran down your thighs as he sank, and then he was there–on his knees in front of you, golden in the streaks of sun that leaked through the curtain’s edge. His eyes were glassy, wide with awe, his curls damp from sweat, sticking to his forehead. He looked like he was looking at a fever dream.

He reached for the bowl of ice beside him and set it gently on the floor, then looked back up at you with a question in his eyes. You nodded once, breathless.

Bob guided you forward with careful hands, his fingers feather-light beneath your arms as he encouraged you to lean down toward him, your chest close to his lips.

And then–

His mouth latched onto your nipple.

His tongue was warm and needy, lapping at the cold water like it was something holy. You cried out–soft and broken–as he sucked gently, pulling the chill into his mouth and swallowing your heat like he needed it.

At the same time, his hand reached into the bowl and lifted another piece of ice. He guided it slowly to your other breast, circling the nipple with glacial focus, letting it bead and drip while his mouth worked the other in steady, wet rhythm.

Your fingers tangled in his hair.

He moaned softly at that, tongue pressing flatter now, lips tighter, like he couldn’t help himself.

And when you looked down at him, flushed and kneeling between your legs, worshipping you with his mouth and melting ice, you swore you’d never been touched more sweetly in your life.

He pulled off your nipple with a soft, wet pop, licking it one last time, tongue circling tenderly before he released it. His lips grazed the curve of your breast in a gentle kiss, trailing heat in their wake. Then he shifted–slow, purposeful–toward the other, where the ice had melted into a glossy sheen over your skin. He didn’t rush. He paused to admire you, blue eyes glazed with something more than lust–adoration, worship, the kind of awe that made your chest cave in. He was drunk on the taste of your skin, and all he wanted was more.

His mouth sealed around your other nipple with a desperate hunger softened by devotion. His tongue moved languidly, drinking the cold from your body and replacing it with his heat, like he needed to balance you out. As his lips worked, he moved the piece of ice in his hand–down your ribcage, trailing it along the edge of your ribs with devastating slowness.

You gasped when it passed the under-side of your breast, the chill biting in contrast to the molten heat of his mouth, then lower, across the dip of your stomach, inching toward the space just above your navel. You flinched as it reached the sensitive skin right above the waistband of your boyshorts, and he groaned low in his throat in response–like your every twitch was a prayer answered.

Your hands tugged gently at his hair, not to pull him away but to feel something tethered, something grounding, because your entire body was floating–adrift in heat and cold and sensation.

He pulled away from your breast with a breathless sigh, mouth shiny and pink, and leaned in to chase the wet path down your stomach. You watched his tongue trace the same line the ice had carved, warm and wet, mouth open and panting against your navel as he moved lower and lower. Every kiss was a blessing. Every lick, a declaration.

And then he stopped at the waistband.

His nose brushed it gently. His breath was a humid puff across your lower belly. He looked up at you through damp lashes, cheeks flushed, curls curling slightly with sweat, his tongue running absently over his lower lip before he tilted his head–so soft, so careful.

“Can I take these off?” He asked, voice low and quiet, almost bashful despite everything. You nodded immediately, breath hitching.

”Y–Yeah.” He helped you stand with that same steady grace, his thumb sliding along the elastic at your hips, eyes never leaving yours–not even for a second. Then he slowly tugged them down. The fabric peeled from your thighs with a sticky reluctance, damp with sweat and tension and heat. He bent as he went, lowering himself with each inch until he was on his knees again, breath ghosting across your inner thighs.

Your hands trembled as he sat you down at the edge of the bed once more, steadying you with one hand on your hip, the other bracing your thigh. You watched as he pulled your legs gently over his shoulders, a smile coming up on his lips.

Bob’s breath hitched the moment he saw you–already glistening, already soaked, slick with heat and want and sweat. He stared like he couldn’t quite believe you were real, like he’d stumbled into something mythic, something divine. And then, without breaking eye contact, he reached for the bowl.

The ice clinked gently as he dipped his fingers in, searching by feel. When he pulled one out, the cube was already slick in his grip, catching the dim light like crystal. He held it there for a second–then looked up at you.

“C–Can I put this on you?” He asked softly, voice breathless with awe.

You nodded without a pause, lips parted, heart thudding somewhere in your throat. “Yes… do it.”

He smiled.

And then he moved–slow, reverent, a priest in the presence of a miracle.

He brought the ice to your center, resting it just above your clit, and immediately–you felt it. A single drop fell.

You gasped.

The cold dragged across your head, contrasting so violently with the flushed wetness of your core that your hips jerked. Another drop slid between your folds, trailing downward like a teasing finger. Your whole body shivered–and that’s when Bob leaned in.

He licked the first droplet as it passed your clit.

And then he lost himself.

His mouth met you with heat so sharp it made your knees lock around his shoulders. His tongue licked up the length of your folds, slow at first, but with increasing urgency. The chill of the ice was still there–he never removed it, just held it against you, letting it drip while he worshipped you with his mouth.

You moaned–a high, breathless, broken thing–and your fingers dove into his hair, yanking just enough to feel him groan into you. It was obscene.

The ice kept dripping. His mouth kept moving. And the contrast was too much. Cold sliding into hot. Wet meeting wetter. His tongue was everywhere–flicking, flattening, curling against your clit, lapping up the melting droplets like he needed them to survive. Every moan that rumbled from his chest vibrated into you. He wasn’t holding back. He was devouring you.

Feral. Controlled. Utterly consumed.

You tried to speak–tried to tell him how fucking good it felt–but all that came out were broken syllables and a whispered, “Oh my God… Bob, please–”

He answered by moaning into your core, low and guttural, dragging the flat of his tongue up from your entrance to your clit in one long, devastating pass. The ice cube shifted slightly, grazing your skin, making you cry out as your body jolted again.

And then–he slipped two fingers inside you.

You nearly sobbed.

They pushed in slow but deep, curling instantly. He knew exactly where to touch you, exactly how to fuck you with his hand while his mouth never stopped moving. His lips sealed around your clit, tongue swirling, licking away each cold droplet before it even had the chance to fully fall.

“Fuck–Bob–don’t stop, don’t you dare–” You whimpered, legs trembling.

He didn’t.

His fingers thrust harder. His tongue licked deeper. And when you rocked your hips forward–desperate for more–he groaned again, rutting subtly against the bed, lost in the taste of you.

The heat in your belly cracked wide open.

You felt the wave before it hit–felt your thighs tightening, your walls fluttering around his fingers, your back arching towards him.

“Fuck!” You cried, one hand gripping the edge of the sheets, the other twisted tight in his curls. Your orgasm ripped through you like wildfire, your whole body locking up before it collapsed into tremors, your thighs clamped tight around his neck, shaking. He held you through it. Tongue still moving. Fingers slowing just enough to prolong it, to guide you down from the cliff as gently as he’d brought you there.

When your body finally eased, when the waves started to ebb and your limbs stopped trembling, he pulled back–slowly, reluctantly.

His face was soaked.

Completely, reverently drenched. His lips were swollen, his cheeks glistened with your slick, your sweat, and faint trails of melting ice. His eyes were glazed with something carnal, but soft–softer than anything should be after what he just did to you.

He looked like he’d just returned from the edge of something sacred.

He exhaled, licking his lips slowly, pulling his fingers out gently before looking up at you like you’d just changed the orbit of his universe.

“…You ta–taste like fucking salvation,” He whispered, hoarse. Your thighs were trembling, your chest rising in ragged, shuddering breaths, your lips parting in the aftermath of the orgasm he had just wrung from you with nothing but his mouth, fingers, and a melting piece of ice. His tongue darted out again, slowly, to taste the last bead of wetness from your inner thigh.

Then, he lifted his hand–the one still holding the ice cube. It had shrunk to half its size now, slick and trembling between his fingertips. He raised it with the same care you might offer a relic, brushing it over your clit, before pulling it away completely.

”I wa-want you to open your mouth.” He instructed gently. You listened to him without hesitation. Bob brought the ice to his own lips, slipping it into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed as he chewed it slowly, the cold cracking and popping between his teeth. You watched every second like it was a ritual–like he was about to give you something sacred. And he was.

He slid your legs gently from his shoulders and rose to his full height, towering over you in the low, golden light. His face glowed with sweat and flushed a light red, as he cups your cheeks with his hands–fingertips damp, warm, trembling with care–and leaned in until his lips hovered just above yours.

Then–he parted his lips and let the water drip into your mouth.

You moaned at the first taste.

It wasn’t just water. It wasn’t just ice. It was you. Your taste lingered in it–your slick, your arousal, your salt and sweetness and heat. It tasted like shared sin. Like everything Bob had just taken from you with his mouth and was now giving back in liquid communion.

You swallowed slowly, lips brushing his, breath mingling.

And then—he kissed you.

Hard.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t sweet. It was intimate, filthy in how much love was packed between teeth and tongue. His lips crashed against yours, his mouth open, slick, tasting of melted ice and you and him. His tongue slid against yours, greedy and slow, like he was still trying to share the taste of you back and forth between your mouths.

You whimpered, hands flying to the waistband of his shorts, tugging at the tie. It loosened easily in your grip, and his hips jerked forward with a soft, broken sound.

Bob panted into your mouth, forehead pressed to yours. “You’re go–gonna get hot again…”

You shook your head, smiling through the haze of pleasure still coiling in your belly. Your voice dropped to a sultry whisper, lips brushing his as you said, “Not if my legs are on your shoulders and you’re fucking me with my hips on the edge of the bed.” His entire body shuddered. His throat bobbed in a tight, desperate swallow. He didn’t even respond. Just–moved.

His shirt was off in seconds, ripped over his head and tossed somewhere you didn’t care about. You moaned at the sight.

You always moaned at the sight.

His chest was flushed and glowing, the heat making every line of him more vivid–shoulders broad, chest rising fast, his skin glistening with sweat and want. And then–his shorts dropped. He stepped out of them like he was shedding a burden. His cock sprang free, hard and leaking, twitching at the air between you. He was painfully ready, his tip flushed, veins prominent along the shaft, his body trembling with restraint he no longer seemed interested in holding.

And still–he looked at you like you were a miracle.

He kissed you again before you could speak, devouring your mouth with a groan, hands gripping your hips with reverent, aching need.

Bob pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead still resting against yours, his chest rising and falling with ragged urgency. His blue eyes flicked over your face, searching, drinking you in like you might vanish if he blinked. You could feel the tremble in his thighs, the barely-restrained hunger in the way his grip tightened on your hips.

Then–gently–he guided you backward.

Your body yielded beneath his touch, melting into the mattress as your back met the damp sheets. The towel beneath you was bunched and wrinkled now, forgotten. All that mattered was him. The way he looked at you like you were something sacred, and the reverent hush that settled over the room as he bent to his knees on the bed, positioning himself above you.

He slid one arm beneath your thigh, guiding your hips down the bed ever so slightly, adjusting your body with the same care one might use to arrange something fragile–something precious. His touch was patient, but deliberate, until your hips were at the edge of the mattress and your legs could rise, slow and trembling, to rest over his shoulders.

The moment your calves draped across his skin, he paused. His breath hitched. You watched the awe flash across his face as he looked down at you–completely bare, flushed, and glistening with sweat. Your fingers reached for his hand, and he found yours instantly, weaving his fingers through yours, palms pressing tight like a lifeline.

Then–

He pressed his cock against your entrance.

The head of him was thick and hot, sliding slowly through your slick folds, smearing himself in the mess he had coaxed from you with ice and mouth and praise. He nudged your entrance gently, gliding in just enough to make your breath catch. Your lashes fluttered. His hips paused, trembling with restraint.

And then–he pushed.

You both moaned–broken and breathless–as he sank into you inch by inch. The stretch was slow, deliberate, perfect. His cock filled you in a way that made your whole body seize with need, the stretch burning just enough to make you tremble. He pressed forward until he was fully seated inside you–his hips flush with yours, his body rigid above you, the head of him brushing so deep you swore you saw stars.

Your hand tightened in his. His head dropped slightly, lips parting with a shaky groan.

“F-fuck…You feel so good…” He whispered, his voice hoarse, eyes screwed shut in overwhelmed bliss. Then, after a breathless second, he leaned down and kissed your calf–softly, reverently–before he started to move.

The first thrust was slow. Gentle. A pull and press that made your hips rock into his instinctively. He dragged his cock almost all the way out before easing back in, groaning at the way your walls clung to him.

You gasped, back arching. “Bob…”

He began a rhythm. Measured. Loving. Each thrust slow and deep, dragging against every aching spot inside you until your thighs were trembling and your core was fluttering with need. The sounds were obscene–wet, slick, breathless. Every push of his hips made you gasp. Every roll of your body made him moan.

“Feel so perfect,” He panted, his free hand sliding to your waist to anchor you. “So warm…So fucking tight…Fuck–”

He picked up the pace just slightly, hips rocking harder now, deeper. Your body jolted with each motion, the slap of skin against skin echoing beneath the hum of the useless fan in the corner.

Your walls began to pulse around him. You whimpered, breath shattering.

“I’m–I’m close…”

That was all it took for him to unravel a little more.

He let go of your hand and leaned down, bringing his weight forward until your knees were nearly touching your chest, his chest flush with yours, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss so hungry it knocked the breath out of you. He moaned into your mouth as he thrust harder, deeper, every drag of his cock stealing another cry from your throat.

Your legs tightened around his shoulders. His thrusts grew rougher, more desperate.

“I’m go–gonna finish so deep inside you,” He groaned into your mouth, voice low and trembling. “I’m gonna fill you up so fuckin’ deep–you’re ne–never going to get rid of me.” Your entire body convulsed.

The orgasm hit like a wave, hot and endless. Your mouth fell open in a soundless cry as your back arched off the bed and your walls clamped down around him, milking his cock with fluttering, pulsing waves of pure pleasure.

“Fuck–fuck fuck fuck–” Bob gasped, his rhythm faltering. And then–with one final, deep thrust–he came.

He buried himself to the hilt, cock twitching inside you as he spilled into you in thick, hot waves. You gasped as you felt it–his cum filling you, warm and devastating, the heat of it flooding your already over-sensitized body. His cock pulsed with every spurt, deep inside, pressed right against your cervix. Your hands clutched his back, fingers digging into his shoulders as you gasped in pure, broken pleasure.

You could feel it.

The way it filled you. Coated you. Seeped so deep it felt like you were glowing from the inside out.

Bob moaned against your mouth, his hips stuttering once, twice, as he gave you the last of it, trembling. He stayed like that, buried in you, his forehead pressed to yours, your legs still locked over his shoulders.

The room was quiet but for the panting–your breaths, tangled and uneven, and his, rasping against your skin like wind through trees. Your hands slowly began tracing soft, lazy circles along his shoulders, fingertips dragging through the sweat and heat still clinging to his flushed skin. You could feel the way he was still trembling–just a little–from the aftershocks. Every breath he took made his chest rise against yours, pressed so tightly together it was hard to tell where your heartbeat ended and his began.

And then–he laughed.

Quiet and disbelieving. Almost dazed.

You tilted your head, blinking up at him. “What?”

Bob shook his head, curls sticking adorably to his damp forehead, a flushed, crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes were half-lidded but glowing.

“You ju–just have so much control over me…” He murmured, voice still breathless. “And I lo–love it so much.”

Your lips curled in a slow, sultry smirk. You kissed him–soft and sensual, dragging your mouth across his like you had all the time in the world. You felt him melt into it, sighing, his hips still pressed to yours, his body heavy with contentment and heat.

Then–slowly–you slipped your legs down from his shoulders. The stretch burned instantly, a ripple of dull ache shooting through your inner thighs. You let out a soft groan, your face twitching at the sting.

Bob pulled back, eyebrows immediately knitting in concern. “You okay?”

You nodded, exhaling through the slight discomfort. “Yeah. Just…a little sore from the position. I may be flexible during missions, but when I have the weight of you pressing into me like that…” You gave him a pointed, teasing look. “It’s a different story.”

He flushed at the implication, letting out a shy little laugh before you reached up and brushed a strand of damp hair from his forehead. Your fingers lingered on his cheek, tracing the curve of it with a tenderness that made his lashes flutter.

Bob leaned into your palm instinctively, eyes slipping shut. Then he cracked a smile again, eyes twinkling with something mischievous.

“Y’know wh–what would be great?” He asked softly, voice low and hopeful.

You hummed. “What?”

He leaned forward until his nose brushed yours, his voice a conspiratorial whisper:

“A shower with you… Pr-Preferably a warm one. So neither of us are miserable.”

You huffed a laugh through your nose, shaking your head as affection welled up in your chest. “Sounds good…” You whispered. “Can you carry me to the bathroom?”

His brows raised like you’d just told him the sun rose for him. “Of co–course,” he said with no hesitation, already shifting. “Only you deserve the five star treatment.”

You let out a soft laugh as he gently pulled out, the stretch and warmth making you sigh, his cum slipping and pooling between your thighs with a hot, sticky glide. He moved carefully, placing a kiss on your collarbone before sliding his arms between your back and the mattress.

You yelped lightly as he scooped you up in one smooth motion–like you weighed nothing at all. His strength was effortless, infused with the serum but wrapped in the gentleness that was uniquely Bob. He held you against his chest like you were precious cargo, one hand tucked under your knees, the other cradling your back.

You looped your arms around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder, your lips finding the warm skin there in a soft kiss. He smiled at the contact, turning his head to nuzzle your temple as he carried you toward the bathroom.

With one foot, he kicked the door open, stepping over discarded clothes and damp towels without missing a beat. The bathroom light flicked on, flooding the space with soft golden glow. You heard the quiet thud of the door shutting behind him and the click of the lock.

The air inside was warm already–trapped heat lingering from earlier, but not unbearable. You felt it shift as Bob moved toward the shower and set you gently on the counter’s edge, making sure you were stable before reaching for the faucet.

The pipes groaned as the water sputtered to life. Within seconds, warm steam began curling in lazy tendrils from behind the frosted glass.

Bob turned back to you with a smile, silhouetted in the hazy light, and asked softly, “Sh-shampoo or no shampoo?”

You grinned, eyes heavy, heart full.

“Shampoo,” You murmured. “Might as well go for the full spa package.”

He chuckled, Bob turned back from the shelf with your preferred shampoo already in hand, fingers slick from the steam curling up around you both. He stepped into the shower first, testing the water with his wrist, then held a hand out for you to follow. You took it wordlessly, skin still flushed and legs still weak, letting him guide you under the cascade of warmth.

The water streamed down your back in lazy waves, soothing the tension from your spine as Bob gently eased your head back beneath the spray. His touch was careful, reverent. Once your hair was wet enough, he tipped the bottle, squeezing a dollop into his palm, and then set to work.

His fingers threaded through your scalp like he was touching something sacred, slow and deliberate, working the shampoo in with gentle pressure. He never scratched too hard, never rushed. It was more massage than anything–his knuckles dragging lazy circles, thumbs brushing along your hairline, his eyes locked onto you the whole time like you were the most important thing he’d ever been trusted to care for.

Just before he let you rinse, he leaned in again–lips pressing to your collarbone in a kiss so soft it barely registered, just heat and breath and affection. And then his voice, low and warm and dripping with adoration, spilled over you like another layer of steam.

“You’re incredible…So fucking beautiful. Yo-You know that, right? So smart…So strong, and you let me–let me to–touch you like this, hold you like this. God, I’m so lucky. You taste like the sun. You feel like home. You make everything good again…”

You huffed a soft breath, overwhelmed and flustered, tilting your head just slightly to rinse the lather away. Bob’s hands helped guide the water down, careful not to splash you in the face. When you blinked through the droplets, still breathless from how he spoke like worship poured from his chest, you couldn’t help but murmur:

“You’re always so soft after sex.”

Bob stilled behind you for a moment, as if processing it. Then he leaned forward, voice tinged with surprise and a faint, teasing pout. “Am I no-not soft any other times?”

You laughed, turning in the warm spray to face him, droplets beading along his flushed collarbones. “You’re soft other times, Bob. But you’re way more soft after sex. Like…Melted marshmallow soft.”

He grinned, cheeks going red as he ducked his head slightly, the water slicking his hair to his forehead. “Well…We are releasing bo-bonding hormones, so…” He said with a small shrug, “How could I not want to be attached to you and be so–soft with you?”

You stepped closer, chest brushing his. Your lips met his in a warm, lingering kiss, water slipping between you as your hands smoothed up his arms. “You’re right…”

What followed was a slow, shared ritual of care. Bob washed your body in sections, treating each limb like it deserved a love letter. He murmured praise against your shoulder, your belly, the back of your knee. His hands glided with reverence, touching as if your skin might flake away like ash if he wasn’t gentle. And when it was your turn, you returned the care—rubbing slow circles into his broad back, tracing over his chest, lathering his curls with the same tenderness he’d shown you.

“You smell like sunshine and sin,” he whispered as you rinsed him off. “Like citrus and heaven. Like something I’m not supposed to touch, but I get to anyway.”

You giggled softly, pressing your lips to his neck. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it,” He breathed, eyes glowing.

You were just about to pull him into another kiss–foreheads close, smiles sticky sweet–when a shout rang out through the compound, muffled by walls but unmistakably furious:

“WHO TOUCHED MY BAG OF ICE!?”

You both froze.

Then, slowly, your gazes turned toward each other–eyes wide, lips twitching.

“…Oh no,” You whispered.

Bob’s eyes went round with guilt. “I-I’ll buy her another one–”

“She’s gonna kill us,” You said flatly.

And then the both of you burst out laughing, muffling the sound in each other’s shoulders as the water kept streaming, and the heat of the Watchtower still pressed in around you–but somehow, in that tiny sanctuary of steam and love and whispered giggles, you barely felt it anymore.

[wisherbysharlight]

It took me nearly 15 years to get my endometriosis diagnosis and comprehensive treatment, but I recognize I’m super privileged in being able to access care where I live from one of the top doctors in endometriosis research(specifically endometriosis in adolescents, but his research spans all age groups). I want to share some of the things I learned, along with study sources he linked me to, so others can advocate to their providers for the care they need. So without further ado:

✨ What I Wish I Knew About Endometriosis 15 Years Ago ✨

No amount of pain is “normal”

Don’t get gaslit into thinking “everyone” who has periods goes through pain. Seek treatment - you deserve better.

Diagnosis/treatment is kinda a pain, even with a doc who takes you seriously

The general course of action for diagnosis/treatment will be attempt treatment through OTC painkillers (Tylenol, Midol, etc), attempt at least 1-2 forms of hormonal birth control(typically oral contraceptive/birth control pill or the ring/patch/shot), then decide with your doctor whether to pursue either further hormone treatments, such as GnRH(which suppress estrogen/can help stop progression of endo) or an IUD, and/or surgical intervention where they go in and find/remove the existing lesions.

Surgery for me took a couple hours, and I had an IUD placed during the operation(at recommendation of my doc). Full recovery was around 2 weeks. Its worth noting right now you can technically only be diagnosed through surgery.

You may have to mix-and-match to find the right solution.

Only 33% of people with endometriosis in a recent controlled study saw significant improvement by IUD alone, as compared to IUD with supplementary hormonal treatment(like oral birth control or hormone inhibitors). Source: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S1083318812002379

Some options may actually make it worse. Keep an eye on your symptoms.

Studies show that estrogen based treatments can potentially exacerbate endometriosis and promote endometrial growth, so treatments without estrogen or with specific types of estrogen are more recommended. Source: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5683134/

Its Got Hella Comorbidities

Fibromyalgia, scoliosis, arthritis, thyroid disease, migraines, chronic fatigue, and bowel disease(IBS, crohn’s, celiac, etc), and more are all potential associations/comorbitities. It’s also worth noting that having any of these in your family history may also put you at higher risk for endo. As my doc said - you’re not guaranteed to get all, or even any, of these, but they’re things to keep an eye out for. Sources:

IBS: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9357916/

IBD/Crohns: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/32629225/

Celiac: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/24992792/

Thyroid: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC10234359/

Migraine: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/38436302/

Painful Bladder Syndrome: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3015716/

EDS: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0002937824001637

Arthritis: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/35258592/

Scoliosis: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/9238674/

TMJ: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC10144081/

Kidney Stones: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9108729/

POTS: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3413773/

Fibromyalgia: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/30682223/

Chronic Fatigue: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC6537603/

Sjogren’s Syndrome: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/39083399/

Bonus Advice

No published studies exist showing any increase/decrease of symptoms between usage of different menstrual products. Do whatever makes you most comfortable!

For OTC pain management, Tylenol or Aleve may be your best bets over Advil, based on their anti-inflammatory nature.

He also recommended probiotics pretty heavily, since digestive issues(ie bad period poops) are super common. Any with >10Bn active cultures are good!

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, just someone that learned a lot and wants to share)

[minyard-05]

hiii againnn can i ask about Folie à Deux this time? you said cia & andrew missing & kateaaron while i was watching the x files (not super related but i'm a bit obsessed so) and my brain immediately created an attachment to this XD

hellooo yes folie a deux my beloved!!!! sooooo this one i'm actually super proud of because I have the entire thing already plotted out like this whole mystery is all planned and set and complex and i LOVE it dgjdgdh i actually cant wait to write it properly and share it with people

owes its title to an absolutely phenomenal fall out boy album one of my all time favourites

ok!! THE PLOT. now, like you said it primarily follows aaron and katelyn, who are best friends, housemates, and work together as detectives/spies/cia agents/doesnt matter really, on a team that consists of most of our usual suspects: dan, matt & nicky are our tech/intelligence team, with allison, seth, aaron, renee, and katelyn as our main field agents. (note we are missing kevin, andrew, and neil– this is a surprise tool that will help us later). the team is captained/managed by wymack and abby.

a couple of years ago, andrew was also part of this team, and he was their number one, had the most case solves of any of them and was unbelievably good at getting information, in part thanks to his perfect memory and uncanny talent for winning staring contests. long story short, andrew was good at his job. so he was working on a cold case solo, assigned to him specially by wymack. he got it because while the butcher of baltimore has been dead for decades by now, there's been recent movements among some of nathan wesninski's old partners, along with a string of mysterious deaths across the city. nobody else has any idea what to do with this case, except andrew. he was on it for a long time, taken off all other assignments, until one day, he left the city, on his way to a prison to talk to someone he believed had ties to the case. but the prison called wymack a few hours later, saying andrew never got there. there were searches, dives into his case notes, people tried to find him for months, poring over everything he left behind for hours, to no avail. andrew had disappeared, seemingly without a trace.

the solution to the gap andrew left on the team was katelyn mackenzie, who managed to solidify her position there before long, befriending aaron, renee, and eventually the others, but always fully aware she existed permanently inside the shadow of what andrew had left behind.

fast forward two years: aaron and katelyn are partners, and wymack sends them to investigate another death, the body of a twenty-three year old woman that washed up on the banks of the hudson. it's routine, they're used to it, but the case isn't as open-shut as it seems. there's too many holes, too many things that don't add up, and aaron and kate are stubborn, so they keep digging, and they end up finding something that somebody didn't want seeing daylight. the frequency of what they're starting to realise aren't just random deaths starts to increase, and with the city starting to get more and more dangerous, aaron starts finding common threads between andrew's old case files and he and kate's investigation. the question is whether they can find the link, and possibly andrew, before something worse comes knocking.

snippet under the cut

---------

The man standing at the desk looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. A long-sleeved gray shirt hung loosely on his thin frame, pale jeans only washing him out further, dark hair falling over his eyes. He glanced up as Aaron approached, and unfolded his arms, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Can I help you?" Aaron asked.

The man nodded. "You're the detective, right? The one doing the Butcher case?"

Aaron didn't correct him on which twin, but nodded.

"Yeah."

The man breathed in deeply, like he was steeling himself.

"My name is Neil Josten. I have information, and I– I think I can help."

[luffyvace]

hairo x insecure/shy male reader?

What a duo! Little spoiler but reader is sure to be happy by the end of the hcs with this guy!! :3

there needs to be better gifs for this silly little dude 🍜

💖💞💓

Hairo heals the soul say it with me!!

You’ve lucked up to have the best boyfriend as an insecure/timid individual because surely whatever goal you have will be fulfilled!

what do I mean by that? You ask?

I’m talkin!

about!

the one!

the onlyyyyy…….

HAIROOOOO THE SUPERR BOYFRIEND 🤩🤩🦸🏋️‍♂️

the boyfriend who’ll proudly leap rivers! Fly underwater! Swim in the mountains! And twirl upside down to make you happy!! 👐

Therefore! If your goal is to stay cooped up in your room all day! Super Hairo 🦸 is going to find a way that you can still get enough sunlight and exercise each day!!

(As long as your okay with sitting on the balcony for 30 minutes and a treadmill he bought in your room! :3)

your goal is to interact with others more?!

he’s got ya!

today y’all are gonna for a run in a public place where it’s common to see other runners! Your mission? Tap someone on the back as your passing by and say “keep up the good work!”

Best part is you have an excuse to run away this time! 😆

LOL

your insecure and your goal is to become more comfortable and confident with yourself?!

Gee well he sure knows someone who knows the PERFECT way to help with that seeing as though its his favorite thing!!

(it’s him! Could ya guess?)

exercise is a great way to build confidence‼️

and in the process (if your insecure about your body) you could work on getting your dream body!!

he doesn’t let you call it a ‘dream’ body tho 😯

he says “your thinking too small!! It’s not a dream! It just has yet to become reality!” 🔥🔥🏋️‍♂️💪

if your the type of peep who needs aggressive motivation…he’s your guy!

Literally!

and he’s here to help!

everyday he’ll stand in the mirror with you and yell encouraging words until you believe it!

or he’ll shout inspiring words at you during your workouts

if your insecure about something physically he’ll constantly compliment you on it randomly to beat those bad thoughts to you!

believe him! Trust him!

he loves you and wants you to be happy!

Those bad thoughts dont!

you are brave m/n!! You can do it! Fight back!! You are great!

He’s your knight in shining armor when it comes to any bad thoughts you may have

because your both males he likely understand you a bit more because he knows male struggles

also if your insecurities are specific but not physical he’d do all he can to help, from distraction to professional help……to not so professional help (your friends 😭) to wise advice! (your parents), anything!

if it’s something mental or just personal you have, he may feel a little more powerless about the situation but will continue to try regardless

and the only reason I say he feels that way is because he likely hasn’t experienced it before so he doesn’t know much advice on how to help

even so, if he had experienced it as well it wouldn’t help unless he healed from it and/or figured out a solution :P

these hcs were rather short because there wasn’t much detail in your request so I wasn’t sure if your were looking for something specific. Also why did these get more serious as it went on?? it started out so silly 😭

The face safe rule keeps you alive.

- Hairo Kineshi

[aerbiscuit]

There was an episode of a popular cartoon recently (not saying the name just so it doesn’t show up in the show’s tags) where one character was given a “second alcohol stomach” so that she could drink even more than is physically safe for human beings. We see her swallow the second stomach, and it even temporarily inflates her midsection before settling back down into a normal shape.

So obviously, versions of this device optimized for fart fetishes immediately began flooding my brain.

I keep imagining a scenario where someone invents a second-stomach device (along with a small length of large intestine that connects to the primary large intestine, but just “second-stomach” is catchier) to allow for absolutely pigging out at buffets and huge meals. The sensation of eating can be wonderful until you hit natural limits. Not only is there only so much space in your stomach, but there’s also the sensation of feeling sick after eating too many fats/sugars/salts/etc., the negative effects of eating too much of certain things, and (what the diet industry is concerned about) eventual weight gain.

The inventor presents their the second stomach device as a solution to all those problems. It contains its own separate digestive system that uses the inventor's own (totally safe!) patented digestive fluid and microbiome (sold separately, but it won’t cost you an arm and a leg). The second stomach is super flexible and breaks down EVERYTHING. You won’t need to worry about storing fat or spiking blood sugar when everything gets digested and disposed of. You can switch between your primary digestive system (eat, gain nutrients, etc.) or the second stomach as you please, which means as long as you remember to eat standard meals with Stomach #1 for nutritional purposes, you can save eating all the junk for your second stomach and make it have little to no impact on your body.

However, there are a few issues keeping the inventor from being able to sell their second stomach. The first is that while weight gain technically isn’t an issue, large amounts of food entering the torso still bloat people up, even temporarily. While the second stomach swells easily and without pain, human skin still needs to catch up, so there’s a bit of an adjustment period when people try to eat as much as they can.

The second is what happens after digestion. There’s still solid waste to deal with, but what really surprises second stomach testers after a huge meal is the gas. The digestive fluid and bacteria may leave some solids behind, but it can break down a surprising amount of things (way more than you’d expect) into gases. You may not be putting on pounds or overdosing on sugar/salt, but you pay for that by dealing with an inhuman amount of gas. It can come out of both ends, but farting is the most common.

Finally, any invention comes with risks. What happens when the second stomach’s digestive fluids or bacteria find their way into the primary digestive system? Fortunately, the digestive fluid was designed so that there’s no risk of it damaging/digesting the body from the inside out, so that’s all good. The bacteria are a different matter. It’s supposed to only survive long enough for the digestive process in the second stomach/intestine, then be effectively “dead” once waste enters the primary intestines for excretion. But if, by chance, enough of it is still alive in the primary intestines, and your primary microbiome decides to adopt the bacteria as a part of your intestines’ gut flora, then...

Well, the good news is that since the digestive fluid remains in the second stomach, you’ll still get nutrients from what you eat in the primary stomach. You won’t be lacking nutrition. The bad news is that anything you eat from either stomach will be getting broken down into far more flatulence. If you don’t invest time and money into resetting your gut biome, you’ll probably be a gasbag for the rest of your life.

The inventor (aka, the first victim of this last side effect) doesn’t know what everyone’s so worried about. They’ve certainly adjusted, and they don’t mind being living proof of the progress of science.

[indigovigilance]

Miraculous Energy

Guys, I think I found a hole in the plot. We should probably walk through it together and see what we find.

inspo citation by @ritz-writes

Originally this post had to do with holding hands.

The 25 Lazari Plume

In S2E1 they hold hand through the conduit of Gabriel and perform "the tiniest, most insubstantial, fractional half a miracle we have ever performed. No traces of anything miraculous left behind. No- no- no alarm bells ringing in Heaven" miracle.

Even though they were trying to be surreptitious, they failed drastically. Common fanon is that their combined angelic and demonic energy, or the power of love, creates a holistic power greater than the sum of its parts. The result:

A miracle of more energy than anyone knows what do with: per Shax, "a miracle of enormous power... the kind of miracle only the mightiest of Archangels could've performed."

But.

This isn't the first time they've combined their powers to perform a miracle.

Two quotes from Gail Neiman:

The instance in question:

Theory:

There are at first glance two solutions to this paradox. Either

a) They did create a burst of energy but everyone above and below Earth was so freaked out by them having just survived hellfire and holy water (respectively) that they were like "yeah that tracks and we're not touching it with a 10 foot pole," or

b) They did not create a burst of energy in the body swap, and therefore the plume of power didn't have to do with the boys combining powers but instead has something to do with either (b1) Gabriel or (b2) the nature of the miracle being performed.

I don't like (a) because Saraqael is so dismissive of the idea that Aziraphale could have performed such a miracle. It creates a narrative inconsistency.

We are left with (b), and since purple is the color of Gabriel's divinity this would be narratively consistent. (b2) doesn't track because the nature of the miracle being performed is fundamentally the same: in S1E6 they were (what in other fantasy fiction is frequently called) glamouring to hide their identities, and they did the exact same thing to Gabriel in S2E1, obfuscating his angel identity with a made-up human one.

So, yeah. It perhaps doesn't lean into our preferred conceptualization of the super-powerful duo, but it does fit the evidence.

~~~

It looks like @ineffable-suffering already put forth this theory, I just missed it. You can read it here: What if it wasn't Aziraphale and Crowley who performed the 25 Lazarii miracle?

~~~

special shout-out to @flameraven for the scripts, you make my life much easier now that I can copy-paste quotes instead of transcribing.

If you liked this, you can find my meta index here.

[masterjedilenawrites]

On this here February 1st, I'll be showing some love for the 21st Nova Corps, a unit lead by Marshal Commander Bacara and Jedi General Ki-Adi-Mundi. I couldn't find any other named clones from this unit outside of Bacara, and I haven't written for this guy before, so I'll do some headcanons just for him :)

The 21st Nova Corps

I did a quick dive on Wookiepedia first, and here were some things that stood out to me from what's apparently already been canonized:

The 21st Nova Corps has a reputation for being relentless and exceptionally conditioned/disciplined.

This is in large part due to Bacara having super high expectations, he will kick anyone who doesn't meet them out of the squad, even without Ki-Adi-Mundi's approval.

Actually described as being "at odds with" Mundi, though in another section was said to have a grudging respect for him.

Bacara utilizes aggressive tactics and is extremely strict. He ignores the recommended GAR practice for commanders to remain inconspicuous in battle, and instead chooses to lead his troops from the front.

He's described as a loner and stern. I saw somewhere he was besties with Neyo, too, and they developed combat techniques together.

With that foundation, here are some headcanons I have for him:

Doesn't talk much, but not because he's shy or emotionally constipated. He really only cares about war and rarely meets people who are interested in discussing the topic with as much passion.

Like seriously, he has no other hobbies or interests. Music? Never heard of it. Sports? Boring. Holo-films? Food? Knitting? Yeah no, he's already walking away from this conversation.

If he is comfortable with someone though, he can talk about battle strategies for daaaays.

Fucking hates milk.

Has a mind for improvement. Not quite a perfectionist, he just won't ever settle for "good enough" when something better is still achievable.

Thus, he's constantly working angles in his head, coming up with possible solutions, thinking outside the box. Even for common, everyday situations like getting out of traffic or folding the laundry.

Jason Bourne vibes.

Has one small tattoo on his foot, will never say what it is.

Natural at picking up languages. Fluent in Mando'a but can carry simple conversations in plenty of others. 

Spends his R&Rs pouring over wartime history/strategy books in the archives, with a beer.

If someone asked him on a date, he would straight-up say "why?" So confused.

He would be a pretty good partner, though, if he ever opened himself up romantically.

And if he could ever find someone who meets his high standards...

I also read that he was featured on a GAR campaign poster, and I firmly believe he secretly has a massive print of it taped to the back of his closet door.

Can not roll his tongue. Every other clone can and it pisses him off.

Has the best laugh you've ever heard in your life. He does use it occasionally, but very randomly. Not even his squad has been able to work out what exactly his sense of humor is.

His squad... All are just as intense and passionate as their commander. When they're not fighting, they're training to fight. There's no room for shenanigans or relaxing.

Other clones keep a respectful distance. They know the Nova Corps get sent to some pretty hardcore places.

Most of them have never set foot in 79s, or any bar for that matter.

Bacara goes every once in a while, because he does like a good beer, but he's very out of place. Just... kinda sits there... not doing anything...

He gets hit on a lot because he's smoking hot but has never taken anyone home. Not opposed to the idea of getting laid, but it would take a lot to catch his eye.

Eeeevery once in a while, when life gets a little too still and his thoughts wander past all the combat tactics and weapon factoids that are usually in the way, a deep and vulnerable feeling makes its way to the surface and almost cripples him: loneliness.

He has no idea what to do about it, so rather than face it like he would a charging battalion of droids, he instead pushes it right back down and moves on.

Okay but now I'm imagining Queer Eye showing up to help Bacara find some hobbies and a girlfriend 😂

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear, @theroguesully, @cw80831

Other Clones Tag: @kaijusplotch, @lucyysthings, @marvel-starwars-nerd, @severalseashellsbytheseashore (it won't let me tag you), @lackofhonor, @flowered-bicycles, @foodmoneyandcats, @mishakoon

✨Join A Tag List Here!✨

🌟 2024 Clone Battalion Series Master List | 🌙 Master List of Master Lists

[squeakadeeks]

hello, here to pester you with a question >:3!

where do you get the money to make your cosplays?? i'm in the middle of crafting a bunch of stuff for a plant convention and gyatt damn everythings so pricey

:((

along with the storage ive been getting this one a bunch too haha

to tell true, this is no fault on your part so no frets here at all !!! BUT i'm not comfortable discussing my personal finances online. because on a wide scale, anything in regards to money gets incredibly niche to a person's circumstances and will make people get upset/can leave you vulnerable to a lot of bad things. My pay scale and spending habits are not something i'm hip to sharing online since its really private and opens a lot of dangerous doors. (also my spending habits are not exactly healthy or generalizable either.) I'm not saying this to like...dodge being a secret billionaire or anything, but even if i say "i work a STEM job" I've had people get weird about even just that information.

That being said, there are ways i make cosplay more affordable.

usually in-store fabric shopping at say joanns, is just about as expensive as it gets. if you have to shop only at joanns, michaels, etc the bill racks up fast. There are some in-store fabric shops that are cheaper, especially if they are wholesalers or general fabric warehouses, but those are not easy to find outside of cities most often. Joanns does have good coupons, and i can only shop at joanns these days if i have a coupon or there's a sale on that fabric type i'm interested in!

online wholesale fabric shops are a good way to find fabrics that are at lower prices, but then it does incur extra shipping costs. because of that i try to limit the number of orders I make (more orders, more extra shipping). this looks like grouping orders between projects, or even compromising on fabric types based on the stock of one website so i dont have to split an order between two sites.

sometimes you really do have to sacrifice material type. theres been a number of projects this year that i wanted to make out of a nicer type of fabric, even Thistle for example i considered making out of a dupioni, but it was just too dang expensive. dupioni would be around $25 a yard...vs poly suede which is $6. or even a cheaper satin at $3 a yard is a common sub i use as well. I also very frequently have to throw out entire cosplay ideas just based on cost since its just not feasible no matter how many compromises i make.

reduce the burden by extending your timeline. unfortunately theres no way around it, most projects i make are $200-300, and thats....fairly low in the grand scheme of things for crafting-focused cosplayers on mid sized projects. but either way, dropping all of that at once in one place is a huge blow to the wallet. but if you break up that whole $200 cost into say...$20 chunks from one week to the next, its softer. if you cant or dont want to reduce your budget, expanding your timeline is a good solution. now granted, that does cause a problem with the whole "less orders means less shipping costs" but the weighing of those two scenarios has to be done person to person/project to project.

STOCKING UP....when there are sales or other things, building a horde can be a great move. like silverbell didnt actually show up much on my finances this month because all the fabric i used on his suit was storage fabric. so it was ""free"" to me this month, because i already bought it.....3 years ago...and that money isnt real anymore haha.

this is really regional and depends on where you are, but thrift stores can have material sections that have good fabrics as well as sheets/blankets/base garments etc. ive been weirdly lucky with finding great fabrics at thrift stores...like literal joanns fabric for half the cost there, but thats super SUPER hit or miss and not something i rely on, but i do check that section whenever i'm there

[batsplat]

Do we know why ktm has so much chattering problems? I heard that Ducati had them too at the start of the season but how come that they got theirs sorted out while the ktm bike still vibrates so much. I saw a video that redbull posted and it’s clear as day that the chattering doesn’t only affect the bike but it also moves the rider

okay, so. my understanding is that the chatter problem has been caused by michelin's new tyres. it's specifically a chatter problem of the rear tyre: the very, very high amounts of grip generated by that tyre, which kinda caught the manufacturers off guard. having a lot of grip isn't typically a bad thing because, well... if you can exploit it properly, your bike goes super fast (cf all the lap records being smashed)... but sometimes it's too much of a good thing and suddenly you've got so much grip you weren't expecting and your bike is bouncing absolutely everywhere

obviously, different bikes have been affected to differing degrees. basically the bikes with more grip - that can essentially 'extract' more of the grip levels from the tyre - have also had more problems with this. so with ducati, given that the levels of grip had been a strength of their bike the last few years, they were initially really struggling with it. the problem with chatter is that because it can be caused by so many different parts of your bike and the interaction between those parts - the 'resonance' that's caused by all those little springs and joints and moving bits inside it - this really isn't an easy problem to fix. it often kicks in during really precise situations, maybe just a few corners of a circuit where you're taking a specific angle at a specific speed, maybe when you're on softer tyres with just enough grip to really screw you over. that vibration caused by these situations then gives you the tyre 'bouncing' around, which obviously means you lose a lot of speed - you end up losing grip. this also points to why some riders are able to 'ride around' the issue better than others: by having more flexibility in adjusting how they approach certain corners. ktm similarly to ducati had been blindsided by these new tyres... but unlike ducati they haven't seemingly yet been able to find a satisfactory fix

a little more detail. from here, which I would recommend reading in full, one of the more straightforward explanations I've read of what chatter actually is and what it's caused by:

and why the ducati was affected particularly badly - versus, say, the honda, with its lack of grip:

and on the role of the rider in making adjustments:

so you basically have to get creative to attempt to mitigate the issue - which you see now with the ktm, where there's a pretty broad range between the four riders to what extent they're able to cope. this has been reflected publicly in comments made by ktm, specifically about how much two of their riders haven't been able to get the most out of the package:

back around the time of jerez, you had acosta putting the onus on michelin to do something about the issue:

but jerez was also around the time ducati was saying they were getting to grips (ho ho) with the problem. god knows what they did, though here from the piece linked above are some general suggestions for what they will have been looking at:

for fairly obvious reasons, ducati's not gone into a great amount of detail about how exactly they fixed the problem - and so we also don't know why ktm hasn't been able to do more about it. maybe it's something fundamental to how their bike is built, maybe they just haven't come up with solutions as good as ducati's team, maybe a combination of the two. but yeah, that's the basic summary of it: the new tyres mixing up the field, with some able to adapt better than others to these changes. this also seems to be a common theory for why bezz specifically is struggling quite so much - because he's the type of rider who would actually prefer low grip gross and greasy conditions where everyone's sliding around as much as possible and he can exploit his natural casey stoner-certified feel. if everyone's got a lot of extra grip, suddenly that advantage is basically neutralised. with ktm, it also feels a bit like these tyres have turned a strength into a weakness, with all the grip they're generating working against the bike. hard to give a more definitive answer than that, but hope this helps! I'd also strongly recommend a fairly recent episode of the oxley bom podcast on this topic, 'a matter of balance', for more detail

[therobotmonster]

So I tried out Fallout: Frost

And I got to level 70.

I finally quit because the game was taking a literal hour to load save files. Fallout 4 takes forever to load saves anyhow, but you can get around it with the quick save/quick load, and it isn't nearly as bad, but some combination of my graphics card, Frost and Mod Organizer 2 (which is very clunky compared to Vortex) made it just drag.

I don't have a lot of screencaps, so forgive their random nature.

The game is punishing, and that's part of the point. Early in there's some excitement about how hard the survival mechanics are, but the mod philosophy is solid anti-fun, and after awhile, that just grows old.

Set six years after the war, the game jettisons as much of the wilder stuff as it can manage. Super Mutants and wilder mutated monsters aren't lore-friendly at that stage, so its mostly animals, people, and ghouls, who are constantly bolstered by the radioactive air and thus follow zombie-headshot rules.

Where the anti-fun aspect falls into place is the mod is obsessed with keeping you from getting any of the coolest gear because "it has to be there" for the main game story, despite it being super easy to do stuff that would throw the main game off kilter.

So most major locations are blocked off internally.

I see it for things like the power armor suit near Sanctuary, which is frozen solid in a clever solution to the problem, but I can't dig into ArcJet to get the Rock-It launcher? Seriously?

It gets extra obnoxious with the Nuka-World section, because huge chunks are blocked off, and both exclusive power armors are non-available. The entire marketplace in Nuka-Town is gone, just inoperable doors.

And the mod relies far too much on journal entries to tell what story it is. The journal entries come in basically two flavors: 1) tales of sorrow and death that are so common that you quickly get bored of them and 2) ramblings by now mad cultists, of which there are many. The main barrier to forward advancement is familiar places being blocked off with locked doors, the keys of which are at random locations you just have to stumble across.

You can't just go to Parsons' Asylum and find a way in. No, none of the many Maldenman guards outside have the key to the door. Nor is it at the end of the Malden subway line where I stomped the mutant thing they worshiped into the ground. It's apparently at the end of the "military storyline", a thing that (to be fair) I did not bother with because dealing with the conversational options with the few NPCs who will talk is a confounding mess of non-sequitor responses, because half the characters use randomly clipped together dialog from the main game and none of it is translated well.

It's not without its charms. For the first forty levels or so you're likely to enjoy it if you're really into hardcore survival experiences, and while most of the coolest gear was rendered nonexistent, a few things, like the syringer, were majorly improved. The boat fast-travel mechanic was neat but crafting fuel was stupidly inefficient.

I strongly recommend new players get the syringer-centered perk that replaced VANS the moment you can. Syringes are the only ammo with no weight, and for most of the game you'll want to keep a pack of venom and bleed-out syringes. One shot from either will take down a human or smaller sized living enemy (ghouls included) and the venom syringes are guaranteed kills on Deathclaws and Bears if you can keep out of reach long enough for them to succumb.

Don't really have much else to say. Just a little ramble.

[gapaskat]

Addressing Response to Customer Difficulties: Starting Point

What are the common problems encountered by CMU students nowadays?

In this journal, you will learn about our journey of finding problems and how we were able to come up with this particular product in order to achieve a more efficient and productive academic life for college students.

The first thing we did during the first week was to create a plan on how we will conduct our interview and how many prospective people we need including the college they should be from. The team agreed on making interviews by pair; one person will do the asking while the other will do the documentation.

After some interviews, we gathered all the information and shared it together with other members.

After giving it some thought, we took notes of the problems raised and created possible solutions to each of them. The next day, we interviewed another group of people for further investigation. The following is the summarization of the data gathered from respondents.

Data Gathered:

• 2Males (From Agriculture) - Problem: Garbage’s on Agriculture Benches

• 1 male (From CAS) - Problem: Lack of trash bins & sometimes no water on Comfort Rooms

• 1 Female (From CFES) - Problem: CMU market is too far printings

• 1 Female (From CBM) - Problem: CMU market is too far school supplies

• 2 Females (Graduate Students) -Problem: Financial problem

• 1 Female (Veterinary Medicine) - Problem: CMU market is too far printing

• 1 Female (Education) -Problem: Slow internet

• 5 Females (CAS, Psychology) -Problem: Lack of benches

A total of 14 customers are interviewed. And then we all gathered together to brainstorm and discuss our possible plans.

In consideration of the data’s we have gathered while conducting interviews, we noticed that there was diverse array of problems from our customers' answers. The group decided to formulate possible solutions to the problems while also considering the opportunity to profit. The most significant one was financial problems, our chosen solution for this was to construct or create a platform for a marketplace where we will play the role of a broker. It aims to give opportunities for students to:

1. Dispose of their old possessions through selling second-hand items (books, print-outs, yoga mats, swimsuits, etc.) 2. Allows them to buy items at a lesser price. 3. Easy access for available boarding houses in the area.

However, it requires a lot of estimations and assumptions and we found out that CMU already has an online marketplace.

Another best alternative we are able to formulate was the solution to the distance of the CMU market in regards to printing services. We came up with the decision to choose the printing problems to be addressed. After considering other variables, the team has made an idea of providing a self-service, coin-generated, Vendo printing machine rather than using a regular printer which needs someone to operate and provide assistance for all the time. It is super convenient and can be less hassle since we only need to provide maintenance for it once in a while. For that cause, we did research if this product is available in the market or is yet to be created.

To find out that it is currently unavailable in the local market, we are advised to manufacture the product ourselves, because formulating it on our own and managing its service function would dampen the fixed cost, causing us to hardly match the value of the product in the value the customers can afford to give which can dampen the possibility of profitability. With that in plan, we established steps to properly manufacture the product and as to where we will market it.

The group formulated the following measures:

• Collaborate with people with expertise in the making of the product (IT technicians/ Engineers) • Interview experts as to the costs of manufacture, the processes and licenses needed to manufacture the product. • Have the estimation as to the possibility of profitability or determine the economic value of the product in a certain point of time. • Make a model or prototype of the product, as to the process of using it • Devise a clear plan on whom to sell the product.

To sum up, working with other institutions to create a clear plan for marketing your product might be a smart step to access new markets, make use of pooled resources, and ultimately succeed more in the education industry. Our teamwork leads to productivity, innovation, decision-making, communication and personla growth, while also fostering strong relationships among team members.

[pogoyarabelajane]

Addressing Response to Customer Difficulties: Starting Point

What are the common problems encountered by CMU students nowadays?

In this journal, you will learn about our journey of finding problems and how we were able to come up with this particular product in order to achieve a more efficient and productive academic life for college students.

The first thing we did during the first week was to create a plan on how we will conduct our interview and how many prospective people we need including the college they should be from. The team agreed on making interviews by pair; one person will do the asking while the other will do the documentation.

After some interviews, we gathered all the information and shared it together with other members.

After giving it some thought, we took notes of the problems raised and created possible solutions to each of them. The next day, we interviewed another group of people for further investigation. The following is the summarization of the data gathered from respondents.

Data Gathered:

2 males (Agriculture Students) — lack of trash bins in Agri benches.

1 male (from CAS) — lack of trash bins and CR (no water)

1 female (from CFES) — CMU market is too far for printing documents.

1 female (from CBM) — CMU market is too far for printing documents.

2 female (Graduate students) — Financial problem.

1 female (from CVM) — CMU market is too far.

1 female (from COEd) — Slow internet.

5 females (from CAS) — Lack of benches.

A total of 14 customers are interviewed.

And then we all gathered together to brainstorm and discuss our possible plans.

In consideration of the datas we have gathered while conducting interviews, we noticed that there was a diverse array of problems from our customers' answers. The group decided to formulate possible solutions to the problems while also considering the opportunity to profit. The most significant one was financial problems, our chosen solution for this was to construct or create a platform for a marketplace where we will play the role of a broker. It aims to give opportunities for students to:

Dispose of their old possessions through selling second-hand items(books, print-outs, yoga mats, swimsuits, etc.)

Allows them to buy items at a lesser price.

Easy access for available boarding houses in the area.

However, it requires a lot of estimations and assumptions and we found out that Central Mindanao University already has an online marketplace.

Another best alternative we are able to formulate was the solution to the distance of the University Market in regards to printing services. We came up with the decision to choose the printing problems to be addressed. After considering other variables, the team has made an idea of providing a self-service, coin-generated, vendo printing machine rather than using a regular printer which needs someone to operate and provide assistance for all the time. It is super convenient and can be less hassle since we only need to provide maintenance for it for once in a while. For that cause, we did research if this product is available in the market or is yet to be created.

To find out that it is currently unavailable in the local market, we are advised to manufacture the product ourselves, because formulating it on our own and managing its service function would dampen the fixed cost, causing us to hardly match the value of the product in the value the customers can afford to give which can dampen the possibility of profitability. With that in plan, we established steps to properly manufacture the product and as to where we will market it.

The group formulated the following measures:

Collaborate with people with expertise in the making of the product (IT technicians/ Engineers)

Interview experts as to the costs of manufacture, the processes and licenses needed to manufacture the product.

Have the estimation as to the possibility of profitability or determine the economic value of the product in a certain point of time.

Make a model or prototype of the product, as to the process of using it.

Devise a clear plan on whom to sell the product.

To conclude:

Team work and Cooperation with the team

Work with Unity, and Diverse Perspective

Adaptability

Constructive feedback

Having this kind of behavior and attitude makes the team create a unique and successful product and/or service, it also helps the students life easier in terms of printing their outputs. Moreover, the team should not waste time on thinking of innovative ideas that can be useful not only for students but also a product and/or services that we can still benefit in the future.

[alolanroy]

2025 Media Thread part 3

Part 2

Daggerfall Memories - A quant mod. Though if they had playtested more, they would've cut out the sheer distance of empty walking to justify the island as a worldspace. One of those mods where you can never tell if things are working as intended, but endearing 5/10

Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde - Compact and to the point with decent atmosphere. I wonder how it would have hit if the twist wasn't common knowledge. Backloading the details in a confession like that may have been really exciting. On a second read, I find it funny that the hired help must have assumed Jekyl was just Hydes sugar daddy or something. I forgot how the depictions of Hyde are just completely off in any media. He's supposed to be a disgusting little freak. 8/10

Doctor Who Series 15 - A few standout episodes, and I liked the companion dynamic, but this just like, didn't work out. The ending feels like too much at once. Too many confusing reality bending end of the world scenarios at once. It felt the culmination of a few seasons that never got produced. The last hurrah just left me unsure how it was still going, rather than sad it was over. I rate it a 6 that was brought down to a 5/10 by the ending.

Steam NextFest Demos

Rogue Point: Oh, this feels really bad. Also, not my genre. 4/10

Aeromachina - Not quite there yet, but there's potential. I think its missing something in the sauce. 5/10

Rogue Eclipse - Without the context of both story and good environments as points of reference, it just feels like a flying in circles simulator, and style can't save you from repetitive gameplay.

Super 10 Pin - It understands how games of this era look, unfortunately, the gameplay isn't for me 4/10

The Trolley Solution - a bit slow, but the gags are fun

Under Siege: The fact that this movie tricked a generation into thinking Seagal was cool is a testament to how well everyone else operated at full power. 7/10

The Autobots - Watching this overdubbed into Vietnamese had my brain like a scrambled egg. Abysmal. -5/10

Fierce Cop - If I had a nickel for every copaganda movie where a Chinese single father gets their kid kidnapped and they have to violate other countries jurisdictions because of an evil and racist looking human trafficking ring, I'd have like 2-3 nickels at this point. Unfortunately these movies aren't very entertaining. Only lifted by how comical it becomes at times 4/10

Nosferatu (1922) - There's some real all-timer shots in this, and I see why the photography was considered so impactful in the medium's infancy. However, for every moment of 'oh, cool' there are two of the characters just kinda futzing around. You'd think they'd economize the film more. 5/10

Bang Brave Bravern! - Rushed and over way too soon. This hilarious genre mashup has so much love for the super robot genre that it is absolutely infectious! I find it funny how they sprinkled in a bunch of gorgeous women like a consolation prize to anyone uninterested in the homoerotic foundation to his show. 7/10

Kpop Demon Hunters - I'm not really interested in Kpop, though I've learned enough from the people who do, to appreciate this movie. It's a solidly constructed musical with great animation, decent comedy, and a few real knee slappers. While the kpop on the tin might have limited its appeal, this would've made a great theater release for everyone. 7/10

A Million Ways to Die in the West - I had a few jokes with the exact timing that I needed, but I don't think this was the gut-buster I was hoping for. The concept is right, it just needed to dial up the execution a bit more. 6/10

Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown - Possibly one of the most excellent 2.5D metroidvanias I've ever played. It just kept going in the best possible way. Not all the bosses were as strong as the insane highs that some of them brought to the table, but what can you do. Quality action platforming on display here. 9/10

Prince of Persia: Mask of Darkness - Half the platforming felt overly grindy, while the other hit the puzzle-platformer itch just right. A bit thin on story and a little anti-climactic, but it was 5 bucks. Who am I to complain? 7/10

Space: Above and Beyond - This would have gotten 5 seasons and a finale DVD movie in a just world. The right balance of ham and hard-hitting military drama for an audience of no one, apparently. 8/10

Stellar Blade Demo - It's a melting pot of a bunch of different games, but everything was copies with a lot less thought into what made them work. In a way it reminded me of FFIV more than Nier and Sekiro. Constant set pieces to the point of annoyance, spectacle combat that felt off, clashing aesthetics and general feature bloat. Just a very dissonant experience: ultra-high tech ,high fashion body suits in a world where they scavenge for car batteries, or an action game woman needing to poke around alleys for a pass code for a 8 foot chain link fence or a cozy save point with a record player and collapsible chair 15 feet from a pack of mutant freaks. Not even the mods could save this. 3/10

Manos the Hands of Fate: It's like crystalized bad 60s movie. Almost nothing happens besides being really pushy and mean to a creepy disabled stranger, a woman in constant, justified and ignored hysterics and a child that is seen but overdubbed. The extreme drip that the cult leader almost justifies this movies reputation as classic bad movie slop. -4/10

Robo Vampire: This would have ruled if it was good in any way. -4/10

Our Robocop Remake - I'm glad I was able to watch this with someone who hadn't actually seen robocop. The fact that even through this filter, it made them want to see the original says something. -8/10

Novacaine - Well-shot action and great comedy. I can't speak for its authenticity, but the movie puts in the work to make sure you know this is a disability, regardless of the action movie carnage it facilitates. It also put in the legwork to make the manic-pixie-dreamgirl angle was a believable motivation. 8/10

Star Wars Uncut - The gimmick of a crowdsourced project must have hit a lot harder at the time. We were unimpressed, especially after Our Robocop Remake. Legos, action figures and children in Halloween costumes is funny the first time, but this is unfortunately the majority we were able to get through. -3/10

Herculese - The mix of cosmic fantasy and -shall we say 'inconsistent'- production value is really charming. Not really a plot to follow, so much as a stream of creativity and limitations. -7/10

Robo Kickboxer - We were crushed when we realized the robo kickboxer was a metaphor, but the integration of footage from a Filipino prison break movie was amusing. -5/10

The Italian Job - Possibly the most British movie of all time. A movie so good it makes Austin Powers better for having seen it. 8/10

The Running Man (1987) - Differences with the books be damned, drawing from the wrestling and American gladiators game show kitch of the time was a great move. It makes the movie feel at once extremely dated but timelessly enjoyable. The gags and action are a treat, though the govonator's acting isn't his best. 7/10

War of the Worlds: Annihilation - Inconsistent props and nonspecific dialogue made us suspect they weren't even sure about the War of the Worlds angle during production. The twist doesn't make any sense and the writing makes all the characters seem weirdly moody. They could only afford 2 robots from the Unity asset store, and the one we see the most isn't even a tripod! -6/10

Enforcer from Death Row - Something bizzarre is never not happening in what should be a pretty standard shot-in-the-Philippines action flick. Its got lousy ninjas, one scene of Cameron Mitchel, a non-threatening bond villain snake pit, a villain who is constantly getting his chest hair toyed with by babes and a final fight in a San Francisco park where you can see dogs playing fetch in the background. Did I mention it's got a young Leo Fong? -7/10

Tsunambee - Shockingly racist and confusing in the way only a Christian film could BEE. It seems more preoccupaid with evangelical fetishization of the rapture and has about three endings, none of which make any sense. Our more religious watchers were more baffled than I was. Did I mention these are clearly giant wasps? -6/10

Superman (2025) - I needed this film to be good. I'm a sucker for earnest selflessness like this, and after two decades of 'what if superman but evil???' I needed a superhero movie about hope and a better tomorrow. It delivered. I'll need to chew on it more, but I think I might like it more overall than the Reeve's era, though it doesn't hit the same notes. I was worried I would find Krypto and a few other aspects grating based on the trailers, but I am glad to have been mistaken. I'll be a happy camper if this is the blueprint for the rest of this universe. Gunn read and understood the assignment. 8/10

[websenor00]

Troubleshooting WordPress Update Failures: A Guide for Non-Tech Users

Keeping your WordPress website updated is essential for security, performance, and accessing the latest features. But if you’re a non-technical user, update failures can feel frustrating and even a little scary. The good news? You don’t need to be a developer to solve most WordPress update problems.

This guide is designed to walk you through the most common causes of update failures and how to fix them—step by step and in plain language.

Why WordPress Updates Fail

Before we dive into solutions, let’s understand why updates can go wrong. WordPress core, themes, and plugins need to work together like pieces of a puzzle. When one piece doesn’t fit, it can cause update errors. Here are the most common reasons updates fail:

Poor Internet Connection

Plugin Conflicts

Theme Compatibility Issues

Limited Server Resources

File Permission Errors

Corrupt or Partial Update Files

Understanding the cause is the first step toward fixing the problem confidently and safely.

Step-by-Step Fixes for WordPress Update Failures

1. Backup Your Website First

Experience Tip: Always start by backing up your website using a trusted plugin like UpdraftPlus or BackupBuddy. Even if things go wrong, you can restore your site to its previous state.

2. Clear Your Browser and Site Cache

Sometimes, the issue isn’t the update—it’s the cache.

Clear your browser cache.

If you use a caching plugin (like WP Super Cache or W3 Total Cache), clear the site cache too.

Then try the update again.

3. Use Safe Mode with a Plugin

If you suspect a plugin conflict, use a troubleshooting plugin like Health Check & Troubleshooting:

Activate it to enter “troubleshooting mode,” where only WordPress core is active.

Try the update again.

If it works, re-enable your plugins one at a time to find the one causing trouble.

This avoids breaking your live site.

4. Check Your Hosting Environment

Sometimes your web host has limits on memory or file size that cause update failures.

What to do:

Check with your hosting provider about PHP memory limits and execution time.

Many shared hosting plans have low default limits, which can be increased via support or the hosting control panel.

For example, increasing the PHP memory limit to 256MB often fixes update issues.

5. Manually Update WordPress (Simple Method)

If the automatic update fails, you can do a manual update. Don’t worry—it sounds more technical than it is.

Follow these steps:

Download the latest version of WordPress from WordPress.org.

Unzip the file on your computer.

Use an FTP program (like FileZilla) to connect to your website.

Replace the wp-admin and wp-includes folders with the new ones.

Do not touch the wp-content folder—that's where your themes and plugins are.

Visit your WordPress site—if needed, it will prompt you to update the database.

Manual updates are safe if you follow each step carefully.

6. Fix File Permission Issues

WordPress needs permission to write and update files. If permissions are wrong, updates fail.

Use a plugin like WP File Manager or contact your hosting support to:

Set folders to 755

Set files to 644

These are standard permissions that allow WordPress to function properly without compromising security.

7. Disable Maintenance Mode Manually

If your site gets stuck in “Maintenance Mode”, it means a previous update was interrupted.

How to fix:

Log into your hosting account (like cPanel).

Go to the root folder of your WordPress installation.

Delete the file called .maintenance.

Refresh your site—it should load normally now.

When to Ask for Help

If none of the above solutions work or you’re not comfortable making these changes yourself, reach out to:

Your hosting provider’s support team

A trusted WordPress maintenance service

Professional WordPress developers

It’s always okay to ask for help—especially when your business or blog relies on a functioning website.

Conclusion

WordPress update failures can feel overwhelming, especially if you're not tech-savvy—but they don’t have to stop you in your tracks. With the right steps, a little patience, and the willingness to learn, you can solve most update issues on your own.

Always begin with a backup, rule out common problems like plugin conflicts or limited server resources, and don’t hesitate to seek professional help when needed. Keeping your site updated is vital for its security, performance, and future growth.

Remember: every successful fix builds your confidence. The more you understand your WordPress site, the more control you have over your online presence.

If you ever feel stuck or need expert assistance, Websenor is here to help. As a trusted web development and maintenance company, we specialize in making WordPress hassle-free for business owners, bloggers, and entrepreneurs. Reach out to us for reliable support and personalized solutions.

With the right partner like Websenor, managing your website becomes easier—so you can focus on growing your brand, not fixing bugs.

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In today’s world, there are now more options than ever to treat hair loss. From natural oils like rosemary to treatments like minoxidil and even hair transplants, there’s a lot more hope than ever before for those suffering from hair loss to find a treatment that works for them. Another popular category that’s been on the rise? Treatments that block the hormone dihydrotestosterone (DHT), which can contribute to hair loss, more specifically saw palmetto. This ingredient is backed by research and doctors alike as a way to help regrow hair. Here, we get into all there is to know about saw palmetto for women and hair loss, including how it works, the best way to apply it or take it orally and more. Beauty Rosemary Oil for Hair Growth: DIY Recipe and How to Use It Who would ever dream something so healthy and sweet smelling would work better than drugs! What is saw palmetto and where does it come from? NoDerog/Getty The saw palmetto berry comes from a small type of palm tree called the Serenoa repens plant, which is native to Florida. Though traditionally used to support prostate health in men, saw palmetto for women is now gaining traction for its hormone-balancing benefits—especially for hair.“It’s been traditionally used for prostate health, but over the past couple of decades, it’s gained a lot of interest in the world of hair restoration because of its potential impact on hormones that affect hair loss,” affirms Ross Kopelman, DO, a hair restoration surgeon. Saw palmetto for hair loss: does it actually work? Clinical research supports saw palmetto for women with hair loss—especially those with androgenetic alopecia (a.k.a.  male and female pattern hair loss). It’s believed the plant contains enzymes that block DHT, a hormone commonly associated with thinning strands when its levels get high. “Excess DHT will make your hair follicles get smaller and your hair get thinner, particularly in the case of a condition called androgenetic alopecia,” says Stephanie Taylor, MD, a board-certified dermatologist and senior consultant at Medpak Solutions. “That’s a fancy term for the most common cause of hair loss, like when individuals get a thinner hairline or thinning hair on top of the head. Saw palmetto slows down the process by preventing DHT from accumulating.” Beauty Curious How Minoxidil Works? Doctors Break It Down Step-by-Step As anyone who has ever dealt with hair loss will tell you, there’s no shortage of different treatment options out there claiming to be the end-all, be-all solution for sparse strands. And sure, while there are things that may help make hair stronger or look fuller, there’s only one treatment that’s FDA-approved to actually help […] Further, DHT can shorten the growing phase of the hair growth cycle, says Trevor Cates, ND, a licensed naturopathic physician specializing in women’s health and hormonal balance. “Saw palmetto works by naturally blocking the enzyme 5-alpha-reductase that converts testosterone into DHT, thereby reducing its effects on the scalp,” she says. Saw palmetto is backed by studies, too. In one study, women who took oral saw palmetto supplements for hair loss reported a 60% improvement in hair growth. Another study that looked at the topical application of saw palmetto extract found a 35% increase in their participants’ number of strands, plus a 67% reduction in sebum on the scalp (which can clog pores and cause hair fall). It’s important to note that in both cases, the study sizes were on the smaller side. That said, their results are still super promising! Beauty 11 Best Hair Growth Products for Women Over 50 to Treat Thinning, According to Hair Loss Experts Plus, the top causes of thinning hair Other benefits of saw palmetto for hair and scalp While saw palmetto certainly has potential in terms of regrowing hair, it actually has quite a few other benefits to the hair and scalp that are worth noting. Saw palmetto reduces oiliness Saw palmetto can help balance an oily scalp, which in turn can help reduce hair fall. Oil tends to clog pores, so less oil equals fewer clogged pores. “Beyond potentially helping with hair density, some patients report that saw palmetto reduces scalp inflammation and oiliness, which can create a healthier environment for hair growth,” affirms Dr. Kopelman. Saw palmetto is anti-inflammatory For women dealing with scalp inflammation or dandruff, saw palmetto hair treatments may offer relief. “Saw palmetto also contains antioxidants and vitamins that may have anti-inflammatory properties,” says Viktoryia Kazlosukaya, MD, PhD, a board-certified dermatologist and hair loss specialist and the owner of Dermatology Circle A in New York City. “A few studies have demonstrated its efficacy in conditions like seborrheic dermatitis.” So, whether you have a scalp condition or just the occasional itchiness on the scalp, saw palmetto may help. Beauty Pumpkin Seed Oil: One of the Few Hair Oils Doctors Recommend for Growth If you’re like us, you’re always on the hunt for a good, inexpensive and DIY hair treatment—especially one that’s au naturel. You probably know how amazing natural oils can be for hair and skin, from rosemary to coconut and olive oil. But there’s one we don’t hear talked about enough, despite its scientific evidence that […] Oral vs. topical: How to take saw palmetto for hair growth Michelle Lee Photography/Getty Like many hair growth treatments, there are both oral supplements and topical forms of saw palmetto you can take. However, Dr. Kopelman says he typically prefers oral saw palmetto, as it has “more robust data behind it when it comes to impacting DHT levels systemically.” He says most doses are only taken once per day and offer 160 mg to 320 mg of saw palmetto. TK saw palmetto supplements to try if there’s one we can recommend or that these experts did.  Topical saw palmetto for hair loss in women is also available in shampoos, conditioners and serums for easy daily use. (We like Bondiboost HG Shampoo and Conditioner for Thinning Hair and Hair Thickness Maximizer Saw Palmetto Serum.) For max absorption and even more hair-loving benefits, massage it into the scalp. Health 11 Best Hair Growth Supplements for Women Over 50 to Reverse Thinning Hair No Matter the Cause Plus, all of these nutrients treat aging beauty concerns at the same time Saw palmetto side effects: what women should know Overall, saw palmetto tends to be well tolerated by most women, our experts say. Mild side effects, like a stomachache or headache, may occur—and if they do, talk to your doctor. For women specifically, it’s best to consult with your doctor first if you’re pregnant or breastfeeding. Also, “Because it can affect hormone levels, I always caution patients who are on medications like hormone therapy or anticoagulants to talk to their physician before starting it,” advises Dr. Kopelman. For more tips and tricks about hair loss, click through these stories: Your Top Hair Loss Questions Answered by a Hair Restoration Surgeon: Causes, Myths and Treatments Hair Shedding vs. Hair Loss: How to Tell the Difference and What You Can Do About It I Was Losing Hair in Clumps—Then These Hair Growth Supplements Brought It Back Stronger Than Ever Source link