#that its not a job to them its just that they belong on stage and are there to have fun with their friends and stuff

[vampmilf]

Have you heard this song?

https://youtu.be/kq6UVL3H6SI?si=9wWdltnRm1_BA2u9

link

nope! and i gotta say, even though this is probably not going to sound like a very nice answer to some people, i avoid the kpop industry like the plague. not bc i think its all shit music or whatever but the whole industry around it, the commercial and ethical aspects of it just. nope. nuh-uh. i want nothing to do with it.

[youremyheaven]

Jupiter & Rahu Influence Among Popstars

When I look at pop-stars across industries, I have noticed them all often having the same planetary influence showing up one way or another (usually nakshatra's ruling planet but less often, rashi lord as well).

Now, lets look at what or who a "pop-star" is. The simplest definition is that "a pop-star is a highly successful singer of pop music". Some would say that being a pop-star is the pinnacle of fame. They are at the very top of the entertainment industry food chain.

Actors pretend to be other people for a living but a pop-star is one who has to pretend to be an exaggerated version of themselves for a living. Most pop-stars have an alter ego or stage persona that they project, sometimes these alter egos have different names, other times they don't.

If you think about it, being exalted to the status of a superstar, akin to a God or deity and being adored, worshipped and obsessed over by millions of people, for being "you" is a bit bizarre in itself. Actors spend months making movies and playing a character, someone singing and dancing on stage and "being" themselves sounds simpler even though, in truth, it is a much harder job. If your full time job was being an exaggerated version of you, you'd struggle immensely with your sense of self. Most people would have some kind of breakdown, being unable to distinguish between what is "really" them and what belongs to the persona.

I'm by no means suggesting that Jupiter influenced people are exempt from having an identity crisis. In fact, I would say its the opposite. I think due to the expansive and boundless nature of Jupiter, which has a tendency to exaggerate the effects of whatever it touches, most Jupiter natives kind of permanently live in a state of "in-between-ness" , this feeling of being stuck in limbo is reflected in how each Jupiter ruled nakshatra falls between two rashis, one air and another water.

Punarvasu- Gemini & Cancer

Vishaka- Libra & Scorpio

Purvabhadrapada- Aquarius & Pisces

These 2 elements are very different from one another, Air element is typically associated with the intellect and ideas, whereas the Water element is associated with emotions, spirituality, wisdom etc. So, Jupiter, the planet of luck and abundance, the "Guru" (teacher) is one that is "well rounded" in the sense that it is both practical as well as spiritual and emotional. This also insinuates that, in order to amass abundance and be fortunate in life, one has to have a mixture of opposite qualities and be "well rounded". Duality is an innate theme of Jupiter, and whilst many think of duality as having opposite qualities, its wiser to think of Jupiter as the union of opposites. Light and dark, good and evil, feminine and masculine, peace and violence, love and hatred, all co-exist together here. Due to the scholarly "Guru" nature of Jupiter, it becomes the duty of its native to rise above the lower manifestations of these energies and embody the principled nature of it. In this sense, its not just the "meeting" of good and evil but the triumph of good over evil.

I had already explored in a previous post about how having an alter ego/multiple identities is kind of a Jupiter thing. Most Jupiter influenced individuals majorly struggle with their identity simply because they feel like they're "all things" and this sort of commercial marketing of "aesthetics" and "niches" is very limiting. They're all things, all at once. This can be disorienting for others who struggle with their identity for other reasons (Nodals who struggle with over-attachment and detachment, Malefic gworls who don't have very many hobbies/interests/passions to base their personality off of). Its hard to explain what "being everything" is like to people who don't have a sense of self/reality to begin with, or those who have a very narrow or rigid understanding of themselves. We're familiar with Rahu mania but Jupiter mania often flies under the radar because they seem so put together on the outside, unlike Rahuvians who wear their madness on their sleeve.

Most people would have a tough time figuring out how a Jupiter native actually felt or if they were going through something in their personal life because they're usually stoic af and very well kept. Their world could be falling apart but they will never lose their etiquette or their manners. This can lead to scenarios where they're either not given adequate consideration for their suffering because they dont "look/seem" like they're going through it OR people tear them apart for seeming too "cold/nonchalant" even in the face of crisis. People like to see vulnerability because it makes others more humane and relatable and sometimes the stoicism of Jupiter natives can irk others because it makes them seem robotic or beyond human.

How does all of this tie into Jupiter being the most common planetary influence among pop-stars?

I had already mentioned that pop-stars are idolized for simply existing. Having the expansive energy of Jupiter helps one become a vessel for the projections of others. You can be anything or anyone to everyone. I have observed Jupiter influenced individuals code switching irl, in the sense that they have an entirely different personality depending on who they're interacting with and usually have several different friend groups that have nothing remotely in common with each other.

Many anons have mentioned dating Jupiter men who seem very sweet and giving and then being mindblown when they turn out to be insane party animals who smoke and drink till they drop and go batshit insane at the club. They seem too "goody two shoes"-y to be about that life, yet they are.

Being a performer/pop-star seems to suit Jupiter natives because it gives them an outlet to channel their manyyyy sides. Even their alter egos have alter egos and if they had to live normal lives, it would kinda drive them crazy unless they found some phenomenal ways to compartmentalize all that stuff. Not to rely on anecdotal evidence (I'll cite more "celebrity" examples after this) but there's a guy I know whose chart is heavily Jupiter influenced and he is the most responsible family man ever and provides for his whole family but he is also extremely passionate about weed, does not say no to a drink and LOVES to party. He lives in an apartment complex with a lot of people our age and mf is always at someone's house party 😭😭 I am in no way implying that these things CANNOT co-exist, that you can't both be a hardworking family guy who looks after everyone AND drown yourself in booze but typically the kind of person you associate with one kinda lifestyle is not who you associate with the other, if ykwim

There are many examples of these "contradictions"

Miley Cyrus, Vishaka Moon

She is known for her wild, freaky stage performances and her no-nonsense personality but beyond all that, Miley is a homebody who has a gazillion animals and lives a very "simple" (or simple, for a celebrity anyway) life.

Beyonce, Vishaka Moon

Beyond all her glamour, Bey is veryyyy lowkey and raises honeybees in her backyard and harvests her own honey. She's very spiritual and is all about her family and minding her own business. I know this isn't news to anyone but isn't it interesting how the biggest pop-star of our time, known for her fierce performances and larger than life persona, is actually a tradwife? A proper Southern lady, if you will.

Jennie, Vishaka Moon

In a recent interview, she said:

"Anyone who meets me will say I’m so far from what I represent as me onstage...it's a part of me , a switch inside of me that I can just click.”

(This is SOOO Jupiter coded of her)

Jennie's friend Deb Never described her as:

“She’s shy and really humble and very sweet,” she says. “And then as soon as it comes to music and how she performs, it’s this flip side, this opposite person where it’s like in your face and very outspoken. It’s not like she’s acting. It’s being able to let out a whole other side of you that you don’t get to in real life. There’s a vulnerability in that.”

I had mentioned a few times previously about how Jupiter and Rahu's energies can be veryyyy similar. Jupiter has more structure and can keep the mania and obsession under wraps a bit more than the average Rahuvian (Jupiter is a benefic, Rahu is a malefic, so the limitless energies are channelled in more "beneficial" ways by a Jupiterean and in less beneficial ways by a Rahuvian). Looking at the charts of entertainers who were/are highly successful, the Jupiter + Rahu influence recurring is crazyyyy.

Frank Sinatra is considered one of the earliest pop-stars. He is a Shatabhisha Moon.

Elvis Presley, Shatabhisha Moon

Aretha Franklin, Punarvasu Moon, Vishaka Rising

Billy Joel, Punarvasu Rising

Michael Jackson, Shatabhisha/Purvabhadrapada Moon

I am not trying to imply that people without Jupiter influence can't be pop-stars, they can!! But when they aren't Jupiter influenced, they're usually Nodal

Mariah Carey, Punarvasu Moon

Whitney Houston, Shatabhisha Rising

Celine Dion, Venus atmakaraka in Purvabhadrapada and Mercury amatyakaraka in Purvabhadrapada

Taylor Swift, Ardra Moon

Diana Ross, Vishaka Rising

Eric Clapton, Swati Moon

The shapeshifting ability of these natives is what allows them to flourish in an industry where you're essentially selling yourself as a product.

Adele, Ardra Rising

Lady Gaga, Swati Moon

Ariana Grande, Ardra Sun

Rihanna, Shatabhisha Sun

Dua Lipa, Ardra/Punarvasu Moon

Katy Perry, Swati Sun/Mercury/Rising and Vishaka Moon

Billie Eilish, Purvabhadrapada Rising

Shakira, Punarvasu Moon

Lana Del Rey, Ardra Sun, Vishaka Rising

Halsey, Punarvasu Moon & Mars, Vishaka stellium (Venus/Jup/Rahu) and Swati Mercury conjunct Rising

Janet Jackson, Ketu conjunct Rising in Vishaka

Lorde, Vishaka Sun & Mercury

Sabrina Carpenter, Purvabhadrapada Moon & Rising (she's also Bharani Sun and that's why she's an it girl)

Chappell Roan, Shatabhisha Sun/Jupiter/Ketu

Charli XcX- Ardra Rising

[riveriki]

a glance from the stage

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

PAIRING… idol!heeseung x fan!reader | GENRE… fluff, romance, down bad reader | TROPE… idol x fan | WC�� 0.8k

Your excitement couldn't be contained in you as you and your best friend got ready in your hotel room, today was the day you were going to the enhypen concert. It had felt like you've been waiting forever for this moment, to finally see your favourite group up close in the front-row.

The arena was bubbling with chatter and laughter and you and your friend stood in line waiting to enter. You eagerly held onto your sign with Heeseung's face on it, it read, "hot girls love Lee Heeseung" in bold letters. 

Fighting for these seats were no easy job, you and your best friend stayed up all night on ticket master, with 8 devices open, all on the loading screen. Once you finally got in, you immediately booked the front seats and paid, not even caring to look at the price ( rich girls 😩).

"Can you believe its finally time?" your friend squealed, bouncing on her heels. "And front row seats too! ugh feels good to be gods favourites."

You nod your head agreeing. "I swear, with the price of these seats, heeseung better notice me." you joke.

When the doors opened, you and your friend tightly clutched your belongings and joined the crowd of engenes inside. The arena was absolutely massive, with posters of the members hung up on the ceiling. The seats were better than you could've imagined, giving you the best possible view, able to see everything.

As you both settled into your seats, the lights dimmed, with the energy of the engenes around you increasing. Fans excitedly chatted away to one another, waving their light sticks, singing to the songs over the speakers, many of them holding merch and creative signs.

Your heart leaped as the opening notes of XO (Only if you say yes) filled the arena. The lights shined on stage, and the members of enhypen appeared, their visuals even more stunning in real life. Within the first few seconds your eyes found Heeseung. He looked stunning, his stage presence commanding the environment with just a single nod of the head.

As the concert progressed you found yourself getting more and more immersed in the performance. Every now and then you get your phone out and to record. However, it seemed like every time you put down your phone and glanced at heeseung, his eyes were staring straight into yours. at first, you thought it was just your mind playing games with you, but when it happened again and again, you began to think it was actually happening. And with every passing second, your heart skipped a beat, your lips couldn't help but lift upright into a smile, with a burning feeling sense in your cheeks.

Your friend noticed and gently nudged your shoulder playfully. "I think someone has a crush on you." she teased, hinting at heeseung.

You laughed, shaking your head in disagreement. " As if, he's probably just scanning the crowd."

But deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling off. It felt like every time you looked at him, every fleeting glance, was hinting at something more. As if he was fascinated with you.

As the concert nears its end, the energy of the crowd reached its highest point, with engene chanting the member's names. As Enhypen performed their final songs, the crowd went wild. You and your friend were singing along, your voices blending into the chorus of fans, when suddenly, Heeseung and the other members started to make their way into the audience. 

without a second to spare, heeseung rushed his way to you, standing right in front of the barricade. For a moment, everything around you was still. The lee heeseung of enhypen was standing in front of YOU, with his eyes locked onto yours. He smiled, and you felt your body go weak. 

"Hi." he said cutely, "can i see your phone?"

without a second thought, you opened your phone and handed it to him, with trembling hands. He quickly brought you close and took a selfie with you, with his flirty smile. Then he turned his phone away from you and began to type something, before handing it back to you, his fingers deliberately brushing against yours. You glanced at the screen and found a new contact: "Hee 🫶 ". your eyes widened in pure disbelief. 

when you looked back at him, he chuckled, before winking and mouthing the word cute. The rest of the concert was a complete blur. You were on cloud nine, unable to believe what just occurred. As the final notes of still monster faded, enhypen took their final bows, and waved at their fans, with heeseung making a call me sign at you, followed by a wink.

As you left the venue, you knew one thing, you might actually have a chance with heeseung. Thank god, you bought front-row seats.

[kajaono]

A+ Writing: Character growth done right

AKA: How the Netflix show "The Law According to Lidia Poët" wrote one of the best character growth-arcs I ever witnessed on screen

AKA: The long promised: Enrico Poët character meta

I think many shows centering around feminism - and especially period pieces - struggle to write feminism and the situation women lived - and still live in - a realisitic and relatable way. You either have male character saying stuff like: "Women belong in the kitchen" or male character being absolutly pro-women. Nothing in between. And even when sexism is addressed... a real character arc where a male person grows into realizing what women suffer from... often in silence... is hardly anywhere to be found. In a way thats not staged, but just human. Flawed and raw and relatable

And then Enrico Poet walzed in and just delievered. Its insane.

Short summary: The Law according to Lidia Poet is a show about the first female italian lawyer who had to fight against alot of prejudice, as well as a occupational ban. Enrico is her brother.

When we meet Enrico he is a mirror of the society surrounding him.

Whats really interesting about the way he is written is: He is more nuanced then your typical period piece sexist: "Go and bear babies." Instead he respects her intelligence and her intellect. He respects her wish to work... but not as a lawyer. If his sister really wants to work and earn her own money why not in a traditional female job?

Interestingly, and very telling for his character, is what he says next

He hesitates before he says that. And he doesn't look at Lidia. He looks at his daughter. So yes... he considers marrying a valid option for a woman. But not for Lidia, because Lidia is not "normal". Nowhere in the whole show he tells Lidia to marry. He maybe not agrees with her, but he always shows a certian kind of respect for her wishes.

Later he says:

So does he says all those things because he truely believes them... or because his father - a higher male authority - used to say the same things and he just repeats them?

But Lidia insists on being a lawyer so Enrico eventually agrees that she can be his assistent (he is a lawyer himself) and help with cases, but only if:

So already here the show overcomes the boring cliché trope of: "Women belong in the kitchen"-sexist. No, Enrico is much more nuanced then this. Already in the short conversation we see that there two sides: What Enrico was taught to say and what he really believes.

When we enter episode 2 Lidia starts working for Enrico. The power dynamic is clear. He is in the leading position. Nevertheless Lidia is taking every opportunity she gets to keep on working as a lawyer, independet from her brother. When Enrico finds out about her "side business" he is angry. But interestingly he doesn't try to stop her.

After Lidia solved the ep1 case really sucessfully a certain kind of trust grew between these two. Enrico doesn't want to get involved in trouble, but he trust his sisters abilitiy to solve the case.

But then - from one moment to the next - the really real danger occurrs that the public might find out that he is working with his sister, his sister who is not allowed to work in law anymore. And he snaps:

Here he only thinks about himself. Every trust between them is lost. In this moment Enrico only thinks about his career. This moment Lidias professional success is not to him... because she will not have any anyway.

But you don't think the show lets him get away with that, right? Oh our boy will learn his lesson.

He and Lidia meet a lesbian who had to hide her relationship with another woman. The following conversation takes place.

THIS! This is the first time he has to look into a mirror and realize he is part of the problem. Until this point he probably thought that he is a good guy. He lets his sister work with him, he lets her solve her own cases. But now he is forced to realize that he also judged his sister, every day. He has to realize that his sister suffers and he is one of many reasons. He is not one of the good guys. We see him being ashamed and he starts to think.

The show ends with Lidia not being allowed to ever work as a lawyer or lawyer assistent ever again.

When Enrico and Lidia are called to court, Enrico says this to Lidia:

But his tone has changed. He doesn't try to muzzle her anymore. He tries to protect her. Because he knows that whatever she will say, it will become worse... for him, but also for her.

And when the judge announce the sentence, Enrico shortly looks to her sister. Checking how this sentence will effect her. He starts caring. Because the conversation with the lesbian character - him being forced to look in the mirror - slowly starts changing him.

Episode 3 marks a turning point in Enricos character development

In epsiode 3 Lidia is solving a murder. The victim is the father of a guy she was supposed to marry when she was younger. The engagement was arranged and Lidia ran away because she didn't wanted to marry him. While she is solving the murder Lidia finds a letter from her own father to the father of her arranged-ex-fiancé.

It turns out that Lidia was only supposed to marry so that her father gets his debts canceled. Lidia shows Enrico the letter. He is horrified.

While he is reading the letter he is so ashamed he can not even look into Lidias eyes.

His voice breaks while he keeps on reading, he panics and is still not able to lock eyes with Lidia.

And now comes the quote that - imo - shows his character growth: "Thats a cattle market".

In this moment he realizes that the life of his sister, a woman, is worth nothing. That she can be easily auctioned off like a cow. That she is at the mercy of her own family... men... who can drop her any moment and cause harm to her. Because legally she has no protection and can not speak for herself. A cattle market indeed.

When Enrico hears how calm Lidia is... sad, broken... but super calm like she isn't surprised, Enrico is horrified. Because he realizes that this is what Lidia is confronted with every day. For him thats shocking, for her? thats the reality of her every day life. And being confronted with that, changes Enrico. He realizes that he can not longer close his eyes and pretend that his sister is some kind of "freak" for wanting to make her own voice heard

Its time for him to step up, to do something. To fix all the injustice that happened to Lidia, just because she is woman. Not standing in her way, but standing alongside her.

And Lidia smiles, with hope in her eyes, because it is the first time a man stood up for her and fights for her rights alongside her.

Because Enrico now knows what it means to be a woman. He saw the injustice and he can not be quiet anymore.

He grew so much. We came from Enrico telling Lidia that she shouldn't work in law to him seeing them as equal.

To him eventually waiting outside her house, neither saying goodbye to her nor trying to stop her from leaving to America. Just respecting whatever choice she will make.

This is character growth doen right!

TL:DR

This show takes a really raw and human approach to Enrico character growth: want to work along side a woman? Then you have to face the reality women are suffering from. And eventually this reality will change also your perception of the reality surrounding you. Is this character growth idealized? Sure but that’s not the point.

The point is too show how the reality of women can effect and change a male character, in a positive way, that’s also human and relatable. And they just nailed it

[pigeonpeach]

Yandere Genshin

Prompt: youve caught their eye but… you’re already taken… that won’t be a problem…

Cw: yandere duh, mentions of murder and violence, manipulation, kidnapping, etc. fem reader

Characters: Jean, Diluc,Yelan, Neuvillete

Jean finds herself more and more infuriated with your commitment everyday. A simple hunter from Springvale is the one that catches your eye? How absurd! She knew she should’ve been more forward with her tatics. Oh this frustration and heartbreak has been tormenting her, impacting her work ethic as she tries to give you space. But its hard because you work for her. A cutesy little maid. You belong to her.. you’re everything she could want in a partner. So delicate, so plump, you’re the perfect bride. There’s no way she’s letting a man who can’t read s kid’s book without struggle surpass her!

So… she staged a little accident lets say.. she happened to cut the patrols in the area, making them closer to the city itself. That way there still was protection for the city… just not for the hunters. For awhile they’d been complaining sbout how the patrols spooked the boar. Even though those patrols were meant to cut down and discourage hilichurl camps. From a political perspective she just gave the hunters what they wanted. To up the anti more she had Kaeya tell him about a legendary boar deep into the wilderness. How the boars get bigger in hilichurl camps because they’ve started to fence them off and fatten them up, if he goes at night when they’re asleep, he could surely nail himself a big boar and pass it as a authentic catch…

The short of it was this. Your almost boyfriend snuck into one of the biggest hilichurl camps without the knights patroling nearby. And Kaeya knowing Jean’s work was negatively impacted by him.. may or may not have done something to alert the hilichurls to the the intruder. Quickly he was overwhelmed and beaten. With no knight in sight he was all alone. His struggle only made the hilichurls more violent. They threw him out, beaten to a pulp. When he saw Kaeya he was relieved thinking he was saved. But Kaeya had orders to finish the job of need be.

His death? A accident. Later hunters found him rotting near the camp, no foul play found. No one knew of his idea or who gave it to him, or who gave that person the idea. In your devastation you ended up right in her arms weeping.

“I am so sorry for your loss. I’ll make sure patrols return to normal and those camps are wiped out soon enough. I won’t let you experience such hardship ever again.” Crying to your boss felt so unprofessional but Jean was just so comforting to you. You had been putting on a brave face until now. You stood as she held you. “Lisa bought me this tea recently. It helps to steady my mind when I’m stressed, would you like me to give you some. I know it won’t remove your pain but it should help you somewhat. Unfortunately I can’t give you time off as two others are currently sick. But once they’re back I’ll give you some vacation okay?” She wiped your tears as you nodded.

“Th-that’s reasonable.. th-thank you.. oh god i must be such a burden. You’re already so stressed i didn’t mean to make it worse for you-“

“That’s not the case at all. I care about you. I want you to be safe and happy as every citizen in Mondstadt should be.” She kissed your forehead as she handed you the cup she prepared. “Here drink some tea. It was originally for me but I figure you need it more. I haven’t dranken from it.”

“Y-you’re sure that’s okay? I don’t mind waiting for another cup.” You asked. Oh how innocent you looked. Jean hated how she had to come to this, asking Lisa for a love spell to be put into the tea. But she couldn’t risk doing this to every suitor who got close to success. She needed to make sure you chose her otherwise she might go further next time.

“Its fine.” She said. You drank it with no further complaints.

Diluc was certain this was some sick prank. You, his beloved little maid, in love with nothing more than a simple merchant? Its not uncommon for the route from dawn winery to be used. But a certain merchant he purchased seeds from seemed to be getting far too close to you. Sure you two weren’t dating, he hadn’t even made the first step. But now he was absolutely was going to take drastic measures.

The first step: Distract you. You found yourself being assigned to chores more indoors an less outdoors. Diluc could sense how you would look out beyond hoping to see him again and he didn’t want that to continue. The second step was to lure said merchant back on a day you weren’t working. His arrival was horrible as the maids had all gone home leaving Diluc and Adelinde to recieve him, on a new moon, there was no moon to illuminate his path home so Diluc offered him to stay the night. He thought of this gratefully, originally the death Diluc planned was a simple killed in his sleep. But when he asked about you… oh it activated something in him. He even brought you a gift… how thoughtful… Diluc struggled to maintain his composure.

The merchant never did make it past the night. Despite his struggles. His body found beneath the bridge near Stone Gate. A investigation launched but ultimately blamed on bandits. With it his gift was smashed. You were devastated yes but your employer seemed to suddenly be more attentive than usual. He offered you meals and tea. Often requesting just to talk to you.

“Its getting late. I really should be going.” You set the tea cup back. “This was nice though. I wouldn’t mind doing this again but… oh.. is it raining?” You look out to see water coating the windows as what sounding like rain came from outside.

“Oh my it appears to be. At this hour you would be most vulnerable if you left now. You have no pets correct?”

“No.. oh dear…” you silently began to worry.

“You could always.. stay over. There is many a guest room and there’s spare pajamas for you. I’m certain it’ll be better than getting sick. Besides there’s bandits on the roads at these hours. You remember what happened to that merchant.” His voice luring you to s false sense of safety.

“Yes… I’ve been quite nervous going home now to be honest. Do you know if they ever found who did it?”

“Still nothing. Guards are posted more though. But it wpuld be easier. You do have a early shift here anyways in the morning so you wouldn’t need to go home right away. If that sounds alright.” He says, you jolted slightly as his hand gently grazed yours as you held your jacket. At that moment thunder clapped, startling you.

“I suppose that makes sene. I’ll take you up on that offer then..” you smiled shyly.

“I’ll lead you to your room then.”

He wasn’t going to let you leave.

(A/n: this is a alternative route to my other work Yelan vs Pantalone, dont consider this cannon to that piece but as its own spinoff)

Everyone has secrets. And Yelan’s is the fact that she stole a bride straight from Pantalone. It was mostly just to spite him, and also because she’s a sucker for a pretty face and couldn’t stand letting that happen. But oh they’re far more irresistible than she could’ve imagined. Now that they’re safely hidden in the jade chamber, working as a intern. She’s been visiting them when she comes to visit Ninguang, lucky her that Ninguang would allow her little damsel to stay in the jade chamber. But while her back was turned to her former life, she set her eyes on the people once known as parents to them. Her little Damsel cannot return to her former identity ever. And thus its better for her to believe that Pantalone went back on his word and killed them.

And that’s exactly what ended up happening. The Fatui’s search was halted and stopped because the Millieth wasn’t going to let the Fatui kill civilians just because they lost a bride. Even though they insisted they didn’t all signs pointed to that. She then forged documents to show to her beloved little damsel that this was the plan from the beginning, that Pantalone would have killed her parents upon acquiring her. Like the others so far, she used this opportunity to soothe them and bring them closer. At least this way they are alive and safe rather than in the hands of their families killer. Only… they are infact in the arms of their families killer. All seemed well until some stupid guard started poking around. He seemed more interested in courting them, believing they myst secretly be from s powerful family outside of Liyue and hiding. It was a rumor she purposely started to cover for their true identity. But now it backfired as this man saw a opportunity to climb up the social ladder. She isn’t quite sure what his exact plan was but her guess was he intended to make her fall for him and then marry him when she returned to her life, this guaranteeing a life of luxury. Unfortunately for him that won’t be the case. But Yelan can’t go killing her own. So she decided to simply use her influence to have him demoted to ground work instead. Convincing Ningguang that if allowed to stay he’ll uncover their scheme. The reason given to him was that apparently he was too loud or social than was acceptable in such environments. Afterwards he died to a hilichurl raid. Whoops.

“You.. you got my stuff?” You were surprised when she came to you with a crate.

“Yes, since legally you’re dead, your parents stuff was sold at auction at request of your family members. I grabbed what I remembered you valued myself.” She said with s smile as you beamed at the sight of your old things.

“It won’t raise suspicions will it?” Yu asked.

“I won’t let it. Don’t worry your pretty little head about the details.” She said patting you.

“I-i don’t know what I could do to repay you. You’ve done so much for me i-i truly have never had someone like you in my life.” You looked at her expecting a sort of humble brush off or something to actually be named.

“A date would be nice. Once everything cools down of course.” Her voice was like a purr, making you flustered.

“O-oh sure.. as long as it won’t cause you any trouble.”

“Perfect.” She said. You didn’t see it but she was considering drugging your tea that sat on the table behind her. A love potion, how typical but how effective. But seeing your blush she could tell you had infact fallen for her already. Which made the potion more of a backup if you ever lost feelings.

Neuvillete is anything but dishonest. But… seeing you cling to the arm of a guard, how happy you two looked.. it left him green with envy and red with wrath. To control himself he decided to simply change the guards routine to be out of your way. But you just went to meet them after work. His favorite little employee falling for the guard rather than him.. he felt deeply insulted.

Time for more drastic measures. He asks a favor from the clueless and happy Sedene (a simple melusine) to sneak into his house. To which she happens to find something. Just as planned he spends his time arranging scenarios to increase suspicion causing the other guards perform a check up right as he is planted with primordial sea water. He is quickly taken away to be questioned. Meanwhile you are distraught. You never thought him capable of such feats. But alas he was hardly the man you thought he was.

“I-I’m so sorry.. i truly didn’t know anything… i- Oh god ll this time..” you were hyperventilating as you were brought into questioning. “I-i.. oh god.. am i in danger? I could’ve ended up just like those missing girls..” Neuvillette’s hands reached out to your space as if to tell you to quiet down.

“I understand this situation is difficult. If necessary I’ll give you a moment to compose yourself. There isn’t any reason I have to suspect you but I still have to take precautions. You agreed to the random house search and no trace of seawater was found. I’m simply asking if he told you of anything suspicious or gave you any implications of his true nature.” He lowered his voice in a more gentle manner than he would in court. You sniffled as you wiped your tears.

“He.. he did keep inviting me to his place. I never went though. I didn’t think we were far along to do such things.. you know like… intimacy..” you nervously muttered. He still heard you, he was pleased to know you two didn’t get too serious.

“Were you two officially a couple?”

“No.. but we were close… i was going to ask him but then this all happened and… you know the story from there.”

“Hmm.. I see. It appears you infact were a target. Is there any reason you can think of?” He says. The sight of you so heartbroken and shaking is strangely attractive to him. So timid, so easily manipulated.

“No.. no not at all.. i don’t understand why?” You seemed more and more frightened. “S-should i not leave the house for a bit. This sounds very scary.. i don’t know if I can continue my routine as normal like this!” You whimpered as your hands seemed to get closer to your body. As if you retreating into she’ll to hide in.

“Fear not, I’ll have the secret patrol watch over. And each guard will undergo inspections from here onward. But i will be seeing you more. I want at least weekly updates to know of any strange activities or unexpected changes. Understand?” He said. You nodded. “With my life, I promise you, you will be safe. And I will let no harm come to you.. ever.”

[dkisms]

Warrior

Wonwoo x afab!reader /// enemies to lovers /// 5k words /// smut

You’ve hated Wonwoo’s guts for most of your esports career. He’s always targeted you, and you’ve had enough. 

      If one person on planet Earth hates Jeon Wonwoo, it’s you. In fact, that’s how you feel right now, with the stupid little grin on his stupid face looking at you from across the stage, brow arched at you. He’s teasing you for sure, and the bright red ‘LOSE’ on the stage above you does absolutely nothing to change that.

      You honestly had no idea when Wonwoo started to act like this. As a woman on an esports team for League, you’ve always been careful of every move you’ve made. Two years ago, you joined ASTAR, much to the disappointment of many in the world. In fact, Wonwoo had been kind to you previously, going on stream many times to express how women belonged in the sport, and how he was excited to game with you.

At least, that was what you thought. 

      Now, every single time you play, either practice or in comp, your screen stains black and white, now matter what you do. Every move? Wonwoo’s there. Switch to top? So is he. At this point, even your team starts to feel bad for you. In any regular match against any other team, no one can beat your Seraphine (or fiddlesticks, if feeling frisky). 

      Your team captain gets up before you, patting your head. As much as it seems comforting, the steam coming from your ears and the blood boiling in your veins has yet to cease. You exhale loudly, getting up to follow your team. The next ten minutes go by in a blur, with the manager asking the team about the matches while heading to the bus, barely a blink coming from your face. 

      Even when you got to your base, all you could do was trudge to your dorm, and get in bed, wallowing in silence. The notification you got on your phone made you feel even worse, seeing your teammates go to stream and talk about the matches. To them, it wasn’t a bad loss, with Wonwoo’s team, JACKL, being number one in the country, and the easy contender to worlds, but it didn’t make the loss any easier.

      Your phone dinged with a text from your friend. ‘He’s talking about you.’ Was all it read, and it took everything in your soul to not throw the phone across the room, opting to open Wonwoo’s stream instead.

“We don’t bash other teams.” Was the only thing you heard as the stream loaded out of the advertisement, Wonwoo spinning back and forth on his chair as he read his comments.

“Are they as good as my team? No. JACKL is number one for a reason right now. However, they’re one of the best teams I’ve played against in years. Their mid showed mine how you can’t screw around in a match and expect them to not crush you into the dirt. My support had to pretty much solo heal them. Not great, but he’s gonna work on it.”

      Wonwoo rolled his eyes, brushing his newly silver hair out of his face. He chuckled at a few comments that came in, eyeing one from an international fan.

“Yes, I did go after their support. They rely on her too much on bot lane, and can’t protect her. If they leave her open, it’s my job to go after-”

      You killed the stream immediately after, the familiar anger coming back out. ‘Fuck Jeon Wonwoo, and fuck his team,’ you thought, throwing your phone onto the bed, and heading over to your computer, turning it on. As much as bed therapy helps, the fury in your bones could only be solved by crushing as many people as physically possible in the game, and enjoying the cheez-its you had left. Unfortunately for you, the stupid game hates you, and you nearly just decided to evaporate from the planet entirely seeing your team.

JAKCL_EveryWonwoo was on your team.

Jeon Wonwoo was on your fucking team!

      It seems he noticed as well, as the chat started to roll through his messages at an alarming rate. 

‘Boba???? ASTAR_BobA???’

‘Good to see you again, BobA!’

‘Are you my support??? This is crazy’

‘Yes, I’m your support. Now hurry and pick’ You wrote back, cooling down. The game loaded in, and you picked the route farthest away from Wonwoo. If you had to play with him, you refused to be near him only if necessary, and maybe let him die a couple times. Maybe.

     As much as you hated Wonwoo, he was fucking good. Way too good at this damn game, with the amount of times he saved your ass. The bot lane was pretty much useless, leading you to have to take over, and he pretty much took over the south side of the jungle with you, killing as many as he could. The pretty 15/2/18 was growing by the second on your leaderboard, and his 28/6/13 made the two of you look like you were dancing with each other on the field as you finished the match, a ghost of a grin on your face. It was quickly removed, however, when you got a message outside of the match. 

JACKL_EveryWonwoo has sent you an invitation. 

     Against every bone in your body screaming at you not to accept, you had to. What better way to learn how he plays than to play with him? Right? You even checked, he’s not streaming. You let out a sigh, making sure your headset mic was working, and joined the group. 

“I wasn’t too sure you’d accept.” Wonwoo teased, the grin in his voice easily apparent. 

“Had to get my mic.” You said, watching him change to a casual lobby.  

“Mmm,” He said, hitting the queue. “You did good today.” 

“Sure,” You said, clear in your voice that you didn’t want to talk about it. “So, why invite me?” 

“I’m trying to show you that your team is taking advantage of you.” Wonwoo said, picking his character with you, and choosing to go bot lane. 

“Listen, I don’t need you bashing my team, okay? We did what we could.” You snapped. 

“I’m not bashing them. Yet. But I promise, you’re worth more than you think.” He said, shutting up as the game started. 

     While Wonwoo wasn’t… great at bot lane, he definitely kept up. In fact, he was shockingly right about your team. He was taking bullets and arrows with every match you played, and for hours, had you questioning your team’s plays. At four A.M., when he ended the matches, he sat with you in silence as you looked over match replays. 

“Listen, don’t take it to heart. Just understand you might have to rework some stuff. I know your coach is retiring, so next year, you can work with the new one to find out about plays, okay?” He said. 

“Yeah,” you said, voice dry. “I’m hopping off. Have a good night.” 

“Night.” 

——///——

     You groaned at the buzzing of your phone, reaching over to grab it, and rubbing your eyes. The yell you let out seeing the 250+ notifications decorating your screen could have woken up anyone sleeping. JACKL_EveryWonwoo follows you, tagged you in a video, tagged you in a picture… the notifications kept going late into the morning, clearly after you had fallen asleep. The first was a picture of your characters emoting, one you had sent to him as a joke. Every video after that was VOD’s of every match you had, and the comments were endless. 

‘She’s actually so good. Does her team just suck?’

‘He works well with her. If I was JACKL, I’d be calculating offers.’

‘I knew he was going after her for a reason. Man’s knew she held the team together’

     As much as you could keep reading the comments to inflate your ego, you were NOT excited for the upcoming PR nightmare, especially with the lineups for the upcoming tournament to be announced this week. Knowing the industry, your team would be out in seconds with them Matching ASTAR and JACKL. 

     Your phone ringing broke you from your spiraling anxiety, with your friend’s picture on screen. You pressed the accept button, only for a piercing scream to nearly blow your ear drums. 

“What. The. Fuck?!” Avia shrieked. “Why are you all over his Twitter?! I thought you hated him!”

“I do,” You said, exasperated. “He wanted to show me my team sucked at protecting me when I was vital to the lineup. He did.”

“I know, ASTAR is getting lamblasted on every media site, it’s hilarious. Your teammates are… trying to defend themselves,” She said, as you heard a knock on the door. 

     You ended the call, and opened your door to see your manager, who requested a statement about the play from the previous game. After a quick tweet, most of the internet was cooling off. 

“So, we have a practice match,” Your manager said, pulling out a clipboard, as he walked with you downstairs to the rest of the group, already playing. “JACKL.” 

     You turned, startled, pausing before you sat down. “Is that really okay? After the Twitter BS?” 

“We have no choice. We planned this weeks ago,” the manager said, and you just sat quietly, while they set up the custom matches. 

     At the start of the match, you knew it was going to be horrible. If your team was a little turned around during the first tournament, then this was like a tornado going off. In fact, it pissed you off more when Wonwoo immediately killed you. Actually, you barely remember a time you were alive, if any. At the end of the match, you were so pissed off, you shut yourself into your own room, pissed.

—-///—-

     The moment the tournament matchups were announced a few days later, the stress in your body melted. Thankfully, JACKL were in the other side of the bracket, arguably harder than yours. Thankfully, this seemed to have also motivated your team, and within a few practice matches, they were back in order. 

“Wake up!” The manager called, hopping onto the bus. “First match of the playoffs. I didn’t want to talk about this here, but I believe this is the best place for it. Listen… the company is gonna have to make changes if we don’t win. They don’t know if they want to keep everyone, or if they want to dissolve. Either way, you’ll be contacted shortly about your contract.” He said, clearing his throat. 

“Seriously?!” Her mid laner said. “Dude- I can’t fucking believe this shit.”

     The rest of the drive was relative silence from the group. Many wondered where they’d go, and you were no exception. The skin around your nails was raw by the the time you got to your locker room, filled with an ice cold fear of your future. The manager tried to comfort everyone as much as he could, up until your team took the stage. 

     The ice hardened into a lump in your stomach, one made even worse as you looked around at the crowd. Signs were decorating the audience, and you nearly choked on your own spit, seeing JACKL front row.

“Why the fuck are they here?” The top lane called over the headsets, your team agreeing. 

“No fucking clue,” You said. “Watching us, I guess? To be fair, the news of a team revamp got put out. Maybe seeing if they can steal anyone.” 

     The midlaner just nodded in response, as the signal for the match to start was activated, and bans were chosen quickly. 

“Going Senna,” you called, setting up a protect strategy. 

     The game was one of the longest you’ve had, knowing how intense team emotions were. After the first victory round, you ran up and down the hall stairs to gain some energy, and the second match was a breeze. Against your wishes, however, after your matches, you were stuck front row watching JACKL. 

“They’re fucking good,” Your manager said, eyeing the plays. It was annoying, and to be honest, seemed a little showy. 

      At the end of the first match, the smirk Wonwoo gave you was enough to make you glare, knowing exactly what he was playing at. He was showing off at this point, and trying to get your attention. With the amount of times he had looked over in your direction, you were starting to get pissed off, and the manager was starting to notice. 

“You really made him mad, hm? Play a practice match or something?”

“No. He’s fucking irritating, though.” You said, and your coach perked up. 

“It reminds me of my neighbor’s kid. Idiot thought being an ass was his way of flirting. Y’know, messing with your crush…?” He trailed off, seeing your face. “Nevermind.”

“Don’t even,” You said, getting up. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

      As you wandered into the player halls, after refusing to use the public restroom seeing the lines, you were sharply stopped by Jeon Wonwoo running into you.

“Ah, the golden girl! I wanted to see you today.” He said, a grin lighting up his face. 

“Can I help you?” You asked, with pursed lips. 

“Yeah. You see my match? It was pretty fucking good.” He said, teasing. “Y’know, if you joined my team, you’d get the same treatment. Princess and all.”

      Your eyes narrowed as you scoffed. “As if, Jeon Wonwoo. Let me be straight with you. I don’t like you. You bash my time, try to steal me from my group, and post matches without my permission, which, mind you, had audio. If I said anything iffy, it would be a PR nightmare. Not only that, but it already was! My team had to make a statement twice. Now, I don’t know why the hell you keep messing with me, but I’ve had enough, seriously. I’m unable to do my job in any sense of the word. I know my teammates aren’t doing great, they’re at retirement age and are injured half the time, but I don’t want to hear about it. Enough.” You snapped, finally feeling some weight off your chest. All Wonwoo could do was stand silently, swallowing roughly at the words, as you sped walked off in another direction, away from him.

—-////—-

     A week later, you finished your second match. To be honest, your conversation with Wonwoo had lit a fire, making you push to prove your team wasn’t useless, in anyone’s eyes. You dropped your headset onto the table, quickly exiting the stage, not wanting to talk to anyone, until you were stopped by the manager, and another woman. 

“Hi. I’m Sasha, I work for ASTAR’s main offices. I wanted to talk to you about your work on the team.” She said, and the both of you quickly headed into a small meeting room.

“Now, I understand you’ve played with us for a year, at most. Unfortunately, you’ve seen us quite vulnerable this year,” She said, laughing. “I’ll be honest with you. Your bottom laner and jungler are retiring, and I’m only resigning you and the mid laner, if you’re willing. I already have next year’s team set, and contracts sent out for future prospects. I’m willing to offer you a salary increase, if you’ll have it.”

“I’d love to rejoin.” You said, and she quickly slid a contract, letting you read over it. “I’ve sent it to the company’s lawyers, so you can sign within the week. We won’t announce it until after the tournament ends.”

“Yes ma’am,” You said, smiling at the paper. 

At least Jeon Wonwoo can’t fuck this up.

—-////—-

      Two weeks later, you sat in the locker room, biting your nails, watching a random band play on the tv before the tournament final was to go. Your team had taken the cake on the left side of the bracket, but that left you with only one team left to go, and you weren’t sure if you even had a chance.

JACKL.

      You took a deep breath, centering yourself. You were oddly calm going into it, knowing you still had a future with the team, but were still stressed. As you took a final sip of your drink, you headed to the stage, only to be met with Wonwoo’s piercing eyes, and a shit eating grin. 

     Well, fuck. There goes your screen time, was all you could think, scowling at him, and opting to set up. The keyboard glowed as you clicked away, checking the mouse, and remained silent as the announcers droned on about the game, and every playstyle, the crowd roaring at the game. You picked your character after the bans, quickly making it onto the field, and the bottom lane. 

“We gotta be careful this round,” You said, moving back and forth. “They’re heavy on movement. If you see something, say something.”

“Got it,” Your midlaner said, as the game quickly began. 

      As the game stretched out, Wonwoo was noticeably gone. Before you could even note he must have listened to you, your screen turned gray, and you looked to see Wonwoo had killed you. Looking over to him across the stage, he didn’t return your stare, only smiling at the game, as you huffed. 

      The first match carried deep into a match against the dragons, but as much as you hoped you could keep up, Wonwoo stole nearly every dragon on the field, leading your team to play a losing game of catch up, until the match ended. 1-0 rang out on every screen as the crowd cheered for the other team, and you quickly headed off stage to recoup with your team.

      The second match was a turnover, however, as your toplane deployed a new strategy of killing Wonwoo from a distance before he could ever get to you, leading your group to come out on top in this match, and for you to grin brightly.

“One left, boys!” You called, high fiving your team, and sticking your tongue out at Wonwoo, who could only shake his head at your antics.

      The arena darkened with lights, as you sat down at your computer. The technology around you glowed with light, and your fingers almost felt as if they were pulsing with energy, as you made your final round bans and picks. 

      As you started the round, you opted to play as safe as possible in the start, gaining money. At one point, you were shocked, as you managed to kill Wonwoo, who eyed you from across the arena, daring you to try again. Again, you did.

      If when you played together previously, it looked like dancing, this looked like war. You didn’t even care about the majority of the others, knowing they’d be fine, instead opting to go after the star player on the team. You and your bot lane pushed against Wonwoo, quickly taking him down time after time, until the first dragon appeared, and your own jungler lost it to their mid lane.

      Around this time, you were positive the game was over. Wonwoo quickly turned the match on your head, giving back everything you were given, and then some. The match was going downhill, and nothing could stop them, as they approached your base, the familiar black and white screen turning red, as you lost the final match. 

      You let out a shaky breath, watching JACKL jump around in victory, and heading over to give you all a handshake, and your team quickly exited the stage, heading back to the locker room. A few members quickly left, but you opted to take a few interviews about your team, to help your fans stay calmer, promising victory next year. 

      After what felt like an eternity of interviews and pictures, you notice quite a few members of JACKL as they greet you, heading back home to their friends and family. You said goodbye to the others in your team, returning to the quiet locker room to grab your bag, only turning around at the sound of the door softly closing, seeing Wonwoo.

“Congrats,” You said, honestly. “As fucking annoying as it is to not be able to play much, you did your best.”

“Thank you.” Wonwoo said. 

“But seriously? Pretty fucking annoying to be killed all the time. Don’t do it again next year.” You said, heading to the door, only for him to block it right in front of you.

“I know it’s annoying. Got a little feel of it today from you, to be honest.”

“Then why the hell do you do it so much?” You asked, exasperated.

“Honestly?” Wonwoo said, eyes scanning your face, the silence growing. “You’re really fucking hot when you’re pissed off.”

“I’m… sorry?” You asked, eyes blinking at him, bag falling off your shoulder.

      Wonwoo moved closer to you, making you back up against the door. He let out a soft sigh, scanning your face, as he leaned in towards you.

“The first match I played against you, your teammate got you killed. I saw you curse him out over and over, and the angrier you got, I liked it,” he said, fixing your hair. “So, ever since then, I couldn’t help but piss you off.”

“Are- are you serious? You have to be joki-” You were cut off as Wonwoo kissed you quickly to shut you up.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was joking.” He said, ears red.

      For a second, everything clicked into place. The first match you ever had with JACKL should have been a tell from the beginning. Your bot lane had made a stupid decision, not checking the grass next to you before letting you go in, and had instantly got you and him killed. You had been pissed beyond belief after he had promised he checked everything, and you had reamed him out for an hour over it during and after the game. Wonwoo had been watching you, in shock, and you thought he was being annoying when he killed you again, and suddenly started killing you every chance he got.

Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t being a dick.

No, it turns out he was just horny.

      Something in your brain fizzled out, and you honestly couldn’t think anymore, as you reached up behind his neck, pulling him back down to meet your lips. Wonwoo tasted like the stupidly sweet lollipops he always ate before a match, and always used to tease you with. You supposed they held a different meaning to you, now, as his tongue licked your lips to kiss you deeper. His hands pulled your waist closer, dangerously close to your ass.

      You weren’t sure how much time had passed before he had completely given in to grab your ass, muttering for you to jump. You hopped straight up, and wrapped your legs around his waist, and he carried the two of you from the doorway over to the couch on the other side of the room, dumping the two of you onto it. 

“Hey,” Wonwoo said, hands on your hips, looking more at your lips than your eyes. “If you want to stop here, I’ll get it. But you’ve gotta let me know now.”

“Jeon Wonwoo, if you stop now, I’ll actually hate you for the rest of my life.” You said, and Wonwoo laughed, reaching up to take off his glasses, and setting them on a nearby table, before leaning down to kiss you again. 

     The grip on your thighs felt like fire, and you couldn’t help but let out a whimper as he moved to attach his lips to your neck, sucking a spot where your jaw meets your neck. You felt painfully aware of the heat growing in your stomach, letting your fingers move to his hair to lightly tug, keeping yourself grounded. 

     Wonwoo’s hips pressed into yours, and his fingers moved from your hips up your shirt. You lifted up your back as he yanked your shirt off, leaning back to take his off. You oogled him for a good minute, opting to run your fingers down his abs. 

“Enjoying the view?” Wonwoo teased, and you nodded, playfully licking your lips.

 “Who said video game nerds can’t be fit?” You teased. 

      He chose to ignore your comments, instead moving to remove your bra, and tossing it somewhere else in the room.

“Good thing I locked the fucking door.” He said, mouth moving to kiss down your neck, to your chest.

      The moment his lips met your nipple, you let out a breathy moan. His hand met the waistband of your shorts, and he gave you a second before moving further, hand reaching to cover your mound. 

“Tell me to stop if you don’t like it.” He said, and seconds later, his fingers were plunging into your core.

      The two fingers within you felt like heaven, while his thumb moved in circular ministrations along your sensitive bud. The heat grew in your belly with every movement, and Wonwoo was forced to cover your mouth.

“Listen, I’m all for you being loud any other time, but I don’t want to get caught.” Wonwoo said. “Be quiet, or I’ll have to quiet you.” He warned, and you nodded.

      The fogginess in your brain grew, and heat coiled in your belly, letting out a warning whimper to Wonwoo, who quickly removed his hand, licking at his fingers. You would’ve thought that was the hottest thing ever, except for the empty feeling in your belly making you irritated instead. 

“What the fuck, Wonwoo.” You said, irritated.

“I’ll let you come on my fingers any day, but I’d rather the first time you do be with me in you.” He said, and your face reddened at the raunchy statement coming from his lips.

      Instead of letting you say anything, Wonwoo lifted your hips to remove your shorts and underwear in one fell swoop, eyeing your soaked core, as he removed the rest of his clothes.

“Hate me this, hate me that, but you’re soaked,” Wonwoo teased, pulling your hips closer to his. “Last time to back out, mortal enemy.”

“Wonwoo, please,” You said, long past annoyed, and more desperate to come. “I will find anyone in this building if you don’t fuck me now.”

     His eyes glinted at the challenge, and slowly pushed into your core. He let out a groan as he bottomed out, feeling you pulse around him. Once you gave the go ahead, Wonwoo began his slow movements in and out of your core, the sounds you made egging him on.

“Wonwoo, deeper, please.” You begged.

Wonwoo obliged to your begging, shifting your hips to hit deeper, and pulling you into a deep kiss to keep you quiet.

 “Wonwoo, I’m so close, please don’t stop.” You begged in his ear.

      The breathy moans in your ear weren’t doing anything to help the heat in your core, and the cord was threatening you, ready to snap. His hip movements grew sloppy as he moved to hold your hips in place, and one final thrust from Wonwoo had you seeing stars, and biting at Wonwoo’s hand over your mouth as you came, Wonwoo letting out a moan as he came, filling you. His body felt shaky as he pulled out of you, moving over to a table to grab a tissue, and cleaning up the mess before any of the couch stained.

      He pulled on his clothes as you got up, looking around for your clothes, and he helped you get ready, in majority silence. Before you looked for your bag, however, he stopped you. 

“I understand if I’ve turned you away from me from my shitty actions. To be honest, I’d probably feel the same, but I really do like you, and I mean it. I didn’t want to fuck you to take any advantage.” He said, nervous.

“Wonwoo, please, calm down. You may have been annoying, but you’re not a shit person. I know you didn’t hook up with me just to hook up,” You said, handing him his glasses to put on. “Um. I’m not terribly good at this, but I’d be willing to continue this… something, or whatever it is, if you want. Serious or not.” You said, and he beamed up at you, and you felt your heart squeeze.

     He nodded, and grabbed your bag for you. “Let’s go, then.” He said, unlocking the door for you, and heading with you to your car.

—-////—-

      The sucker in your mouth did nothing to calm your nerves, as you texted Wonwoo. After your escapade, you and him had a very private don’t-tell-anyone set up, not wanting anyone to fuck with the two of you. It worked for the better, as Wonwoo was able to sign with a new team with a big buck contract, even if it was going to be away from you. To be honest, you didn’t care about being public, and neither did he. Were you sometimes jealous of attention? Yes. Did the pictures and videos you saved from fans help? Also yes. To be fair, though, he was in your bed, not theirs, and it was victory enough.

      The manager ran over to you to knock you out of your thoughts, gushing about the new team setup, and how the world wasn’t ready. Your message to Wonwoo remained on delivered as you spun in your chair, anxiety rising. To be honest, you were starting to get worried, as you stressed, as you tapped away mindlessly on your keyboard.

      You sighed at the delivered on text, again, as you heard a ruckus growing in the entry of the dorms. Not dealing with that, you thought, until a hand on your chair stopped you from turning, and your sucker was ripped from your mouth. You turned to yell at whomever was next to you, only to freeze, seeing Wonwoo stick it into his mouth.

“What the fuck…?” You trailed off, as your manager came over. 

“Oh! Glad you’re getting settled in, Wonwoo,” He said, and turned to you. “Our new jungler!” 

      You nodded to the manager in shock, and Wonwoo held a shit eating grin on his face as he stared at you the whole time, and winked at you. You slowly put your headset back on as the manager requested a quick game, and nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt Wonwoo touch your hand quickly, grinning at his screen, as the game started.

No, you didn’t hate Jeon Wonwoo, but he was absolutely going to be the death of you.

[aceduchessdragoness]

Uploaded on 1 January, 2024 by [@]ahmedeldin and [@]hiddenpalestine on Instagram

"An ex-Israeli soldier describes the IDF’s strategy of targeting residences of innocent Palestinians, entering them, and subjecting occupants to harassment. This tactic aimed to instill fear and deny innocent Palestinians a sense of security on their own land, inside their own homes.

Another soldier who is [@]breakingthesilenceisrael shares the horrific reality of his past, reflecting his inhumane treatment of Palestinians and his complete domination over them.

#BreakTheSilence#humanrights#ceasefirenow"

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[id: The video captions read as follows (grammar/punctuation done by me):

[This stays on the screen the entire video] Former Israeli soldiers explain how the IDF acted without any limits, selecting homes belonging to innocent Palestinians, invade them, and harass its inhabitants

1st soldier: Every house in the West Bank actually has a number. Each and every house has a number. So, we would open up the maps and look at the specific house that looked into the right place that we had to enter – (a) city centre or a road – and after we would verify that the house has the best parameters, windows, and geographical area, we made sure the people in the house were innocent. So, you – we – we would enter a house of (an) innocent Palestinian home in the middle of the night.

But I would say that what motivated me eventually to break my silence – was the piercing eyes of the young Palestinians when I was barging into their house in the middle of the night. I could always justify it to myself, but those eyes, the anger, their fear, was what eventually helped me overcome that. The house of a physician in Nablus for example, that I entered in the middle of the night, taking him, his wife, and his daughter, and pushing them in the (a) room – If they wanted to use their bathroom, or their kitchen, or use their phone, they need permission from me. That specific house in Nablus stayed with me for a while because that physician himself was kind enough and generous enough to sit down and explain to me what it means to be a Palestinian. And I thought that I was a good moral soldier, that I was actually helping entrench the occupation in that sense.

[For the second clip, this stays on the screen for the entire time, too] ex-Israel soldier explains what is happening

So this (these) Jewish settlers that live in Havaan are living under the same rights that I live in, in Jerusalem, but the Palestinians next to them, next house over – next building over, sometimes next apartment over – lives under my rule, my military rule. And I can do whatever I want with him: I can take his home as a temporary base for a few hours, to a few days, to a few weeks. I can decide that I’m arresting the people of the house and tying him up to the fence of my base.

If you will get an order to demolish their home, or just lock their front door and don’t let them out into the street – their house is on a street that only Jews (Jewish) settlers can walk on, and Palestinian cannot – so they have to walk through windows to (through) yards into the other side, into the casbah of Lebanon. I think realizing all of that in a very, very early stage in my service help (helped) me undertood that someone was lying to me along the way. I didn’t feel like I’m protecting anyone, I didn’t feel like I’m helping anyone feeling more safe. I feel like I’m terrorizing people, I feel like for the first time in my life, the boundaries between good and bad that I learned as a kid – and obviously I know that I’m on the good side – was broken. I felt like I am the terrorist and my job was literally to scare people so they cannot think about acting against Israeli settlers, or the Israeli military. That was actually our defined mission. /id]

[dr9com9ge-ix]

Hi Sprunki oc jumpscare BOO!- Mostly made em to fill out some gaps in some town stuff in the AU- Anyways things about them below— They’re still being fleshed out

Princey

45 She/Her

- She is a Doctor / Field medic and runs the town’s clinic.

- Is very nonchalant even in the face of really gnarly injuries or even just at weird situations. Simply just gets to work to treat it as if it were just a scrape that needed a band-aid.

- Efficient and mechanical with her movements.

- Very straight to the point and blunt abour diagnosis but will ask before she states how bad an injury/illness is.

- Either does not get sarcasm or completely does but takes it as exactly said. She will not say if she understood or not.

- Resting “judging you” face but she really isn’t.

- Didn’t have any intent on running a clinic until she was asked to and she realized the town at the time did not have any dedicated medical care. Doesn’t seem too bothered by this, Just sees this as “Ah well I need to, Who else will?”

- Lives a floor above her clinic, So that she isn’t too far from it when someone needs help and to keep tabs on it.

- Very meticulous on keeping things organized to a point where she can tell someone has been in a room because they moved something slightly. Has a catalog of both the clinic’s things and her own belongings.

- Made the decision to keep brud in the clinic due to his multiple conditions and usually accompanies him outside if nobody else is available. This seems to be the only thing so far that makes her openly nervous. So she usually has others do that for her when she can.

- Has a very specific schedule for things she does through a week, for example: 8pm fridays after work are for drinking with Tunner and she has weekends off. She has a hard time doing anything herself spontaneously.

- Has a little watch she checks frequently as the town’s constant daylight disorients her time telling by a good amount.

- Prefers listening rather than talking, usually to her patients but this applies to her friday drinking.

- Has a spritz bottle she sprays people who get on her nerves with. It’s just rubbing alcohol she also uses on her hands.

Glowe

30 He/Him

- One of the Mayor’s assistants, Though mainly appears in their stead. Is very dedicated to this job, is often mistaken for being the mayor but will immediately correct that.

- Very cheery and acts as if he were on a stage- He would be a good stage magician if he had any interest in it.

- Partially blind due to his constant staring up at the sun. Has been doing this even before the town was established and refuses to stop despite being told he’d go completely blind at some point.

- Habitually spins his cane around when talking and/or for empasis, Has knocked things over before but has since gotten good at stopping the spin before things fall.

- The baubles at the ends of his fins glow in the dark, He’s very proud of this fact and its how he got his name.

- Is scared of the dark and sleeps with his curtains drawn and a lamp open.

Therman

30 She/Her

- The mayor’s other assistant, more so a secretary. Handles the town’s paperwork even as the records are digitalized. Still has a room in town hall with the papers just in case anything goes wrong.

- Much shyer than Glowe, would rather work behind the scenes rather than present things. Would probably faint on stage if she mispronounced something or dropped a pen.

- Tends to sleep at her desk because she tends to do her work in one long session and forget to go to her bed.

- Glowe is usually the one who drags her outside her office and probably the only one she tolerates that from.

- Light sensitive so she usually stays indoors, Especially does not look directly at the sun when she sits with Glowe. Used to live in a cave town inside a mountain.

- Can’t see anything without her glasses.

[grison-in-space]

Watching the new Alex Jones doc, which is heavy on the alt right response to Sandy Hook and the gun rhetoric that followed... so yeah I thought of when I was teaching during #GunFreeUT back in 2015 as a PhD student in Austin. I would have been about 25. When people came to my workplace and the state said that the students had been complaining* about how frightened they were to be away from their firearms for twenty minutes. When the entire campus was newly declared acceptable for open carry of ducking semiautomatic rifles. The undergrad who organized #CocksNotGlocks, who accurately pointed out that state obscenity laws banned sex toys in public to appeal to people's comfort and sensibilities, but would not consider such a thing for deadly weapons. As I recall, she drew massive waves of harassment from random people who were actual alt right adults with jobs and lives, not college students. I think she had to take a gap year.

*in fact the law was extremely unpopular among the UT Austin student body, most of who were horrified by having to confront the possibility of deadly weapons belonging to fuck only knows whom in not only their workplace but their homes.

I remember standing in a room for staff resistance through #GunFreeUT, the smell of the room, the texture of the cotton shirt I wore. The hastily organized attempts to carve out any freedom we could. The horrified stipulations about whether firearms could be kept out of classrooms themselves if not campuses (no), and the fretful whispers about what the state had declared about our offices, how we were going to be able to declare them gun free zones... If we agreed that students with concealed carry licenses could choose to meet with us somewhere where the gun was allowed to go. The group that announced it was going to celebrate its new open carry status by staging a school shooting on campus, the shooter of course to be played by a "good guy with a gun." The university announcing that they had interceded and made clear to the group that this re enactment could not take place, so they kicked the demonstration a couple of blocks away. Happened at a local gas station.

I was still seeing sad flyers from office staff and teachers saying things like PLEASE NO GUNS IN THIS SPACE when I graduated with my PhD in 2020, the first winter the pandemic was in full swing. I remember the texture of the paper the last time I saw it vividly. I catch myself starting to think about the campus school stabbing I would teach through in 2017 and any one of a hundred more rearguard final stands between the city and the state and—

Okay, that's where I got up and walked off to get a soda. You're getting me now after I've had a minute.

That's a classic PTSD flashback, in case you're wondering. At no time do my senses report anything to my mind about anything unusual happening in the room. At no time, while I remember these things, do I believe that I am currently in danger for my life. It's a strong, vivid memory, but only a memory.

But it's a memory that grabs you by the mind and shakes you. That's a flashback. It's a classic simple PTSD flashback as a consequence of fear and stress sustained over time. Other folks around me who think maybe PTSD or maybe cPTSD applies to you, if you're hung up on not thinking you get anything like flashbacks?

That's what a flashback is from the inside. Your brain is running over the memory of the thing that forever changed your estimation of safety. Just in case you might forget.

Just, you know. In case anyone is wondering.

[jazzy-art-time]

Alli - JarbleAU

Alli belongs to @curce [ I had permission to Jarble-ize her. Curce willingly sacrificed her to me ]

Diagnosis information below the cut

DIAGNOSIS:

Alli

Job: Stage performer / Stage magician

Despite her flamboyant and spectacular performances on stage at the Shining Ring's biggest Casino, Alli is all but a fraud.

Most wouldn't be able to tell that her acts are all fake. Just tricks of the light or very strategic stage tricks. She works hard to make sure everything looks spectacular and entertaining from down below in the seats… or well.. at least makes sure her stage hands work hard.

Whether or not magic does exist doesn't matter, in the end its just about money. Real or fake it doesn't matter, what sells, sells. Wasn't entirely the route she was expecting to take in her life but it's where she's at now and she is good at it.

She is extremely cocky and arrogant and demanding of those around her to make sure her performances go well. At this point, is she even doing much work out there?

However, stage tricks aren't enough to keep a crowd interested, so she sometimes has to resort to… interesting outfit changes to gather attention. She isn't the best at flirting face to face, but that doesn't really matter when you are on stage with a short skirt.

She gets easily worked up over any critic reviews of her show. What would they know anyhow. Better hope you aren't a stagehand who happens to be nearby when a bad review drops.

But despite her cockiness on stage, there is some level of discomfort with it. Sometimes she wonders if it's really worth it to be this way. Maybe she shouldn't rely on such cheap tricks to gain a audience. A deep ache resides in her chest whenever a child happens to pass by mentioning that they love magic and hope to see a show of hers once they grow up. She remembers when she believed in that stuff too. It hurts a little.

But she doesn't know why. DEFAULT WEAPON:

Expandable Cane/Wand

Is conjured by "pulling" out of her head gem.

Usually summoning it causes a mild headache. She cannot conjure it if her gem is somehow damaged or covered, even by her own hair.

The wand/cane can expand for as long as she needs to for the situation. She can also determine how flimsy or stiff the cane is. So it can either be being hit with a flimsy switch or getting nailed with a lead pipe.

Normally a clear glass like appearance during the day. But within starlight or specific brands of stagelight, it glows. EXTRA DESIGN NOTES:

-> Has a more witchy type outfit but had to go more magician for the gimmick. BUT kept the hat overly large with the crinkled tip just as a bit of a nod to the original.

-> Sparkle markings appear on her face, her hair shimmer and lightly faded on her tail tips. The ones on her face are supposed to mildly resemble that of clowns.

-> Has several gems that mimic her forehead gem on her body. When she performs, she somewhat hides that she is pulling her staff from her head gem. That way it leaves to some illusion on just WHICH gem she is pulling it from. Most assume she can pull it from any of them.

-> The inside of her cape has that like… "space" texture that changes and warps as she moves around. Is it just some kind of mythical fabric or does she own like 50 fucking capes with different sequin space patterns? WHO KNOWS

-> I'M NOT... ENTIRELY HAPPY WITH THE OUTFIT but like. Magician outfits can be kinda basic and so trying to do something more flashy but also like?? I don't know! I don't know how fashion or clothing work I'm still learning and practicing give a man a break

[beingalive1]

Bibi And Her Blue-Eyed Baby ⎯ Pt. 2

Rosie Rosenthal x Oc [Batya Bernstein]

Part 1: Here

Summary: Coerced by Harry Crosby to sing at Captain Dye's 25th mission celebration, Batya spends her evening crooning on stage. Her dulcet tones enchanting everyone around her. Finally calling it a night Batya runs into someone unexpected as she breaks for the door, her toe almost breaking in the process...At least her attacker sounds rather guilty.

Author's Note: Ok so I sad a couple of days - I lied. I'm a woman obsessed so here is another chapter! Hope you enjoy x

September 20th, 1943

The evening had come too quickly. Frozen fingers gripping the singular telephone belonging to the entirety of the female officer dorms – manicured red fingernails shining as she gripped the cord with a newfound sense of cold. Even inside the confines of her dorm she couldn’t feel her ears, the scarf tightly wrapped around her face doing nothing to quell the icy breeze of the English air. Nights like these made her miss New York and her apartment’s central heating.

Her father’s voice transcended through the earpiece; it was too late to be listening to such loud exclamations. How stupid she was for leaving home and joining the war effort. How disappointed he was. How the Rabbi was no longer joining them for breaking of the fast on Yom Kippur due to her terrible behaviour. How he would most definitely have to build a second structural addition to the synagogue in order to make up for such a blunder. He briefly had mentioned her mother: how her mama had not stopped crying in multiple rooms of their apartment staining his new white fringe carpets. Batya assumed she had about ten more minutes of him shouting about shame and the rabbi before he eventually gave up trying to convince her to jump on the next boat back home and ask her what she was having for dinner. She’d tell him she was having whatever the cooks at the mess hall were making, he’d get upset again and rant for another ten minutes.

She’d been dealing with the same scenario for the last year. 

Holding the telephone in her left hand and a cigarette in her right, Batya balanced the earpiece of the phone precariously between her ear and the dirty white dorm room wall. Her eyes drifted around the metal tin box she had called home since she had been shipped over to Thorpe Abbots in the winter months of early 1942. It was unnaturally quiet without the poignant rush of the other girls. Her fellow officers most likely dancing the evening away in their sensible heels down at the officer’s club. She longed to be there. Her father’s speech of shame continued on in her ear. 

Abandoning her park avenue apartment and condemning her parents to a never-ending cycle of shame within the community, Batya had joined the war effort with a smile upon her red-rimmed lips. She was an Air-traffic operator and a damn good one at that. Her dulcet tones no longer crooning across a jazz club in downtown New York, but guiding her many pilots through take-offs and landings onto the cold tarmac of Thorpe Abbots air base. She leaned on the dorm room wall; hair tucked up into what her mother would surely dub as an “unflattering” bun. Her khaki dress uniform tight upon her figure. Thanks to good old President Roosevelt she had finally been granted a rank along with a pretty little badge upon the lapel of her uniform jacket. Second Lieutenant Bernstein. She thought it sounded pretentious, but it gave her first dibs on the red-cross donuts ahead of the other girls every morning, so she didn’t mind it too much. Helen, one of the red cross girls, had told Batya she looked professional with her bronze badge. Batya figured Helen just wanted a friend with a higher ranking than most of the male officers. 

Perks of the job.  

Her father’s time spent raving about her choices in life had finally come to an end. Batya had briefly said goodbye with horribly pathetic kissing noises and a poignant slam of the telephone onto its hook. She had places to be. A crowd to impress. Stepping out of the freezing interior of her dorm and into the even cooler exterior of Thorpe Abbots air base, Batya made her way to the officer’s club with a brisk pace. Her hands stuffed so deeply within her pockets she could feel the rough stitching of her dress jacket. She silently cursed whoever had made it compulsory for female officers to wear a sensible skirt and stockings with their dress jackets in favour of her comfortable tweed work trousers.  It must have been a man, only a man would think woman would prefer to freeze their assess off in the icy tundra that is the English Countryside. 

She heard him before she saw him.

The faint sound of his atrocious voice paired with the crushing noise of gravel under rubber tyres echoed through her ears. She continued on walking. Maybe if she pretended to ignore him, he’d drive past her. She heard the sound of the vehicle coming to a halt. Her eyes meeting his cheeky grin with a slight turn of her head. She was never so lucky. ‘Songbird.’ He greeted cheerfully, his tone dripping with excitement. She briefly wondered what he would do if she stopped and lay down in the path of his jeep’s tyres. Hopefully drive. 

Deciding that taking a ride in his jeep would get her to the officer’s club and out of the cold much quicker than walking in her uncomfortable heels, she climbed carefully into the passenger’s seat. He took off without haste. A cloud of dust formed in their wake. They drove swiftly across base, headlights illuminating the greenery of the surrounding English farmland. He lent across from his seat and reached towards the console placed in front of her person: two cigarettes. He held his face towards her as she lit the one placed within his mouth. ‘So,’ he began, his eyes stilling upon her figure before drifting back to the road. ‘heard you singing tonight.’

Her fingers found their place wrapped around her cigarette. The warm smoke emulating from her mouth a small aid in her fight against the cold. Her scarf blowing in the breeze behind her. If she were with anyone else it would seem almost romantic, an evening drive around the countryside, but she was with him. He wouldn’t know romance if it hit him in the face. ‘Yeah,’ she replied coyly, ‘you jealous?’ 

He laughed, a rough sound breaking through the stillness of their surroundings. ‘No’ he exclaimed, his chuckle still resounding through his words, ‘excited to hear you is all. Crosby’s been raving about you for a week now.’ 

Harry Crosby. The unlucky navigator had been in charge of the decorating committee for the little soiree they were on their way to. Celebrating Captain Glenn Dye completing his 25th mission. Hearing rumours about her enchanting voice from the red cross girls: Crosby had asked her to sing. She would have been ecstatic to preform again if it was for anyone else; but Captain Dye had given her dormmate Susan the clap and she was secretly hoping he’d be medically prevented from flying for weeks now. No such luck. The bastard came back unscathed. ‘Well,’ She sighed her eyes drifting to the officer’s club as it flew into view, ‘hope it lives up to your expectations Major.’ 

They screeched to a halt, her feet already on the ground by the time he had ran around the jeep to help her out. Major John Egan shook his head at her with a smile. ‘You, Bernie, never fail to make a gentleman feel small.’ It was said as a compliment, but the use of her nickname made her roll her eyes in frustration. She grabbed his arm roughly, he chuckled. Bernie. A new nickname given to her by one of her many pilots. They had been rather shocked at the realisation that their flight operator was a woman, but had quickly warmed up to her brash and sarcastic commentary. She had a sneaky suspicion it had to do with the pilot whose arm she held at this very moment. He had always seemed rather forward thinking. She might’ve even had found him chivalrous - if he wasn’t so downright annoying.  

Her red fingernails tapped his cheek in farewell, ‘See you later Johnny boy.’  A smile breaking out upon her face as she entered the warmth of the club. Removing her scarf, she placed it on the overrun hatstand by the club’s entrance door. The stand tilting slightly due to the sheer number of coats upon its hooks. He hated being called Johnny, but she figured it was a fair trade for the hideous name he and his crewmates had given her. Colonel Harding had been extremely confused as to why they were calling her by a man’s name; it had taken two meetings and five cups of coffee to reassure the Colonel that it was merely a nickname and that no man named Bernie was helping her in the radio tower. 

She almost killed Egan.

Her eyes caught the group of women she had been looking for: khaki uniforms of her fellow officers and the blue tint of red cross badges shining brightly in the warm light of the club. They cheered as she caught their eye; her girls welcoming her with a pat on her back and a cold iced martini thrusted into the palm of her hand. She sipped it slowly, the bitter taste bright upon her tongue. 

‘So’ began Helen, her face flushed due to the heat of the room and most definitely a few gin and tonics, ‘How was your talk with your dad?’ Helen’s voice, tinted with warmth and interest, was loud throughout the rush of the room. The small woman definitely succeeding in being heard despite the chaos of the club. 

Batya sighed as she swirled her drink. Ice tinkling against the sides of her glass as she thought back to her previous conversation. ‘Same old same old.’ She started, her finger immediately cooled as it entered her drink and fished out its olive garnish. ‘My mother is moments away from a self-inflicted stroke. The rabbi still hasn’t forgiven them. I’m a disappointment to my family. Normal father-daughter conversation.’ She popped the garnish into her mouth, the bitterness of her drink mixed with the tarte of the olive set her tastebuds alight.

Helen nodded in recognition. She was far from unaware of Batya’s status as the black sheep of the Bernstein family. Her eyes drifted around the room. ‘Well you didn’t miss much.’ She sighed airily, her hand gesturing vaguely to a group of men across the room. Batya didn’t bother turning to look. ‘We were only scoping out the new replacements that arrived this morning. There was this dancer guy that we thought you might’ve liked. Absolute twinkle toes. He looked Jewish, think his name was Ros-‘ Her sentence was cut off by a new arrival at their table. 

He looked flushed. His hair in disarray as he smiled widely at them. ‘Ladies,’ he greeted, his eyes jumping immediately towards Batya’s figure. ‘Bat.’ His head tilted awkwardly towards the stage. She briefly thought he resembled a cartoon character, his face screwed up into an expression she could only describe as mild guilt. She nodded in defeat. The blaring melody of the band tittering to a close as they made their way towards the wooden stage. The palm of his hand wrapped around hers as he led her up the stairs, her red lips drifting towards his ear. ‘You owe me for this Cros.’ He only nodded in resignation, his eyes easily conveying his day-old promise of buying her a drink after her performance.

She’d force him to buy her multiple. 

He swiftly made his way back down the stairs resembling that of a man fleeing a burning building. Her hand wrapped around the base of the microphone. A few of her pilots whistled, she smirked wildly as her eyes met Captain Dye’s across the room. ‘Before I begin, I just want to say congratulations to Captain Dye for achieving his 25th successful mission.’ Her voice echoed over the cheers. ‘Hope everyone clapped when your plane landed safely.’ Clapped. Even from across the hall she could see the burning of the Captain’s ears. Only a few people in this room would understand her peculiar choice of diction. Somewhere within the crowd Major Egan laughed loudly. She adjusted herself on stage, clearing her throat, ‘this one goes out to all of you lover boys out there searching for someone to spend your Saturday nights with. It’s a little song I wrote myself called "Bibi and her blue-eyed baby". Hope you all enjoy.’ The sound of trumpets burst through the air. The crowd roared with a fury.

She sang five songs before calling it a night. The incessant whines of the crowd only increasing when she happily told them that Major Egan would be taking her place on stage. It had made her laugh, a rare smile perched upon her lips as the sound of Blue Skies began to swirl through the room. She minced her way to the bar, the grin remaining upon her face as Crosby handed her a martini. He seemed relieved, the apparent stress of organising such a party and entertainment seemingly melting off of him as he leaned against the wooden counter.  

They spoke for about an hour, her eyes eventually drifting away from the bar and onto the now almost deserted dance floor. Helen seemed to be dancing with a handsome soldier whom Batya had not seen before; must have been a replacement. The smile upon the red cross woman’s face enough for Batya to decide against asking Helen to join her on her walk home. Batya instead headed towards the club’s entrance on her lonesome. Crosby’s promise of buying her another drink tomorrow evening wafting over her ears as she reached for the club’s brass doorhandles. The cool metal of the handle felt icy against the palm of her hand. 

The door opened from the outside swiftly, the wooden frame colliding briefly with her left toe as she stumbled backwards to avoid it. She cursed under her breath. Her head faced downwards towards her now most definitely blackened toe. Pain radiating up her shin as she willed herself not to hop on one foot like a child. ‘Oh god! I am so so sorry!’ A hand reached out and gently perched upon her elbow. The voice of her attacker rambling on as he helped her into the nearest chair he could find. ‘I don’t know why I was in such a rush. First night on base and I’m already injuring pretty officers. These doors should never open both ways I mean that’s just dangerous. You could sue. I would know I’m a lawyer, or I was one before the war –‘ She looked up at him, his ramblings coming to a swift halt at the sight of her face. 

 Through the haze of martinis and aching pain her mind vaguely registered a khaki uniform and a pilot’s badge upon his jacket. Her gaze drifting up and up until she met a pair of eyes. Her entire body froze. 

Two years later. 

Thousands of miles away from New York. 

Here he was, wearing a uniform of a pilot and slamming a door into her toe. 

Her Blue-eyed baby. 

Hashem help her. 

Yiddish/Jewish terms dictionary: • 'Yom Kippur' - incredibly high holy day. The day of fasting and asking G-d for repentance and forgiveness for any wrongdoings you have committed in the past year. Breaking of the fast is a huge deal - inviting the rabbi and him showing up is basically the jewish equivalent of winning an Oscar. • 'Hashem' - word for G-d meaning 'the name.' [If there are any parts of yiddish/jewish diction you are ever mildly confused about - never be afraid to ask! Happy to explain x ]

Authors note: thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! This is also posted on my AO3 if any of you prefer reading there: username is All_the_small_things. Link is here. [If you would like to be tagged in any future chapters - drop a note in the comments xx]

[invisibleicewands]

Hello! Here's a fan of your reviews again (they are really great)

Would you mind giving your opinion on Nye, please? I def need your insight on it!

Hi, Anon!

Thank you for your trust, I'm feeling a responsibility on my shoulders now... I'll try to do my best to deserve it, since you appreciate them.

It's not easy for me to write a 'review' about Nye tbh, because there's a lot to unpack and I am terribly slow in finding the right words for this kind of posts (proof is I'm replying only now).

Anyway.

First, I must tell you that my impression may be influenced by the lack of experience and culture in theatre and plays in general. Nevertheless, I think I'm not wrong if I dare to say that "Nye" may be considered a masterpiece. For the theme, the meanings, the perfect execution of all the cast, the writing, the visual impact of the lighting designs, the choreography, the tricks and the original technical solutions with the props on the stage, as well as the rollercoaster of emotions during the entire show. It's all amazing, all perfectly synchronized like the gears of a clock, a real wonder for the view.

The storytelling is neat and well built, the direction is fluid, meaningful flashbacks of the past alternated with the present ones, touching moments balanced with songs and dances, lighter jokes and deep thoughts. There's rhythm, there's a bit of drama and a bit of musical, sadness and happiness, cruelty and compassion; there's speed of execution but also time to breath, to reflect, not a single wasted moment. A perfect team job, a well oiled machine that runs full power for about 2 hours 30.

The actors are really all exceptional, professional, tireless, talented and admirable in their roles. I loved the precision of every movement, the perfect timing of their steps, the expressions, the attention on every little gesture, the care for the detail.

A mention for the performances of some of the supporter actors, excellent, well trained and at their best, who know how to stay on a stage and fully entertain the audience.

Sharon Small (Jennie), with her grit, her grace, her versatility, her patience (when she stays still in the background for minutes, wow), is perfect in portraying this special modern woman: strong, intelligent, nonconformist, but also romantic and soft.

Roger Evans (Archie), Nye's best friend, eternally loyal and protective, sometimes even jealous of Jennie: always on point, a reliable presence in every scene.

Tony Jayawardena (Churchill), with his impressive figure, as Nye's opponent and his doctor, crafty but funny at the same time, and... a very flexible dancer.

And then, obviously, him.

Last but not least: Michael Sheen.

Monumental. Powerful, in his presence on the stage. Inspired, with his long speeches. Ecstatic, during his vivid crazy dreams. Mesmerising. A natural born orator in a play which is his perfect environment. A driving force. He's not just playing a character. He's living an ambition, a mission, that represents the core of all the values, the qualities, the feelings and the things he loves more and ​​in which he recognizes himself. He put his body and soul in this portrait, he cried and laughed, relentless, passionately, he bore the weight of an incredibly high emotional stress for months (all those rehearsals, every day, two times a day sometimes), showing an energy and an unimaginable stamina.

You can understand why he deeply felt this project: he fully believes in its message, and I sense there's also a lot of personal in it, emotions, situations that somehow belong to him. Nye, generous, crazy dreamers, fragile, stubborn, silly, irritating, strong, moving: he perfectly painted all these nuances, because they are also part of himself.

I could also add that some scenes reminded me others he already played in previous works (MoS, H.G. Wells, Dirty Filthy Love, The Passion), but maybe I'll keep these parallels for another post, since this is already too long. It's like there's almost a pattern in the choice of his characters, a little hint that he has a soft spot for some topics, definitely very important for him.

The same for other scenes that really impressed/touched me, but that would take too time to be discussed here.

It was an incredible show to put together, made with hard work, imagination, heart and dedication. To share a story and a message true for many people and different generations, in every eras. For those countries that have a NHS and for the ones that have not. To show how difficult but essential is to fight for the rights, against the social injustice but not only, to care about our families and the others. And affirming that making politics doesn't mean just balancing the books, but giving dignity to the people. This is how the politics becomes a real noble thing.

A huge effort, a great play, a deserved success. A necessary reminder.

(And now, after using too many adjectives, like Nye it's time to expand my vocabulary and find more synonyms.)

[methed-up-marxist]

The coming insurrection “I AM WHAT I AM.” This is marketing’s latest offering to the world, the final stage in the development of advertising, far beyond all the exhortations to be different, to be oneself and drink Pepsi. Decades of concepts in order to get where we are, to arrive at pure tautology. I = I. He’s running on a treadmill in front of the mirror in his gym. She’s coming back from work, behind the wheel of her Smart car. Will they meet?

“I AM WHAT I AM.” My body belongs to me. I am me, you are you, and something’s wrong. Mass personalization. Individualization of all conditions—life, work and misery. Diffuse schizophrenia. Rampant depression. Atomization into fine paranoiac particles. Hysterization of contact. The more I want to be me, the more I feel an emptiness. The more I express myself, the more I am drained. The more I run after myself, the more tired I get. We cling to our self like a coveted job title. We’ve become our own representatives in a strange commerce, guarantors of a personalization that feels, in the end, a lot more like an amputation. We insure ourselves to the point of bankruptcy, with a more or less disguised clumsiness.

Meanwhile, I manage. The quest for a self, my blog, my apartment, the latest fashionable crap, relationship dramas, who’s fucking who ... whatever prosthesis it takes to hold onto an “I”! If “society” hadn’t become such a definitive abstraction, then it would denote all the existential crutches that allow me to keep dragging on, the ensemble of dependencies I’ve contracted as the price of my identity. The handicapped person is the model citizen of tomorrow. It’s not without foresight that the associations exploiting them today demand that they be granted a “subsistence income.”

The injunction, everywhere, to “be someone” maintains the pathological state that makes this society necessary. The injunction to be strong produces the very weakness by which it maintains itself, so that everything seems to take on a therapeutic character, even working, even love. All those “how’s it goings?” that we exchange give the impression of a society composed of patients taking each other’s temperatures. Sociability is now made up of a thousand little niches, a thousand little refuges where you can take shelter. Where it’s always better than the bitter cold outside. Where everything’s false, since it’s all just a pretext for getting warmed up. Where nothing can happen since we’re all too busy shivering silently together. Soon this society will only be held together by the mere tension of all the social atoms straining towards an illusory cure. It’s a power plant that runs its turbines on a gigantic reservoir of unwept tears, always on the verge of spilling over.

“I AM WHAT I AM.” Never has domination found such an innocent-sounding slogan. The maintenance of the self in a permanent state of deterioration, in a chronic state of near-collapse, is the best-kept secret of the present order of things. The weak, depressed, self-critical, virtual self is essentially that endlessly adaptable subject required by the ceaseless innovation of production, the accelerated obsolescence of technologies, the constant overturning of social norms, and generalized flexibility. It is at the same time the most voracious consumer and, paradoxically, the most productive self, the one that will most eagerly and energetically throw itself into the slightest project, only to return later to its original larval state.

“WHAT AM I,” then? Since childhood, I’ve passed through a flow of milk, smells, stories, sounds, emotions, nursery rhymes, substances, gestures, ideas, impressions, gazes, songs, and foods. What am I? Tied in every way to places, sufferings, ancestors, friends, loves, events, languages, memories, to all kinds of things that obviously are not me. Everything that attaches me to the world, all the links that constitute me, all the forces that compose me don’t form an identity, a thing displayable on cue, but a singular, shared, living existence, from which emerges—at certain times and places—that being which says “I.” Our feeling of inconsistency is simply the consequence of this foolish belief in the permanence of the self and of the little care we give to what makes us what we are.

It’s dizzying to see Reebok’s “I AM WHAT I AM” enthroned atop a Shanghai skyscraper. The West everywhere rolls out its favorite Trojan horse: the exasperating antimony between the self and the world, the individual and the group, between attachment and freedom. Freedom isn’t the act of shedding our attachments, but the practical capacity to work on them, to move around in their space, to form or dissolve them. The family only exists as a family, that is, as a hell, for those who’ve quit trying to alter its debilitating mechanisms, or don’t know how to. The freedom to uproot oneself has always been a phantasmic freedom. We can’t rid ourselves of what binds us without at the same time losing the very thing to which our forces would be applied.

“I AM WHAT I AM,” then, is not simply a lie, a simple advertising campaign, but a military campaign, a war cry directed against everything that exists between beings, against everything that circulates indistinctly, everything that invisibly links them, everything that prevents complete desolation, against everything that makes us exist, and ensures that the whole world doesn’t everywhere have the look and feel of a highway, an amusement park or a new town: pure boredom, passionless but well-ordered, empty, frozen space, where nothing moves apart from registered bodies, molecular automobiles, and ideal commodities.

France wouldn’t be the land of anxiety pills that it’s become, the paradise of anti-depressants, the Mecca of neurosis, if it weren’t also the European champion of hourly productivity. Sickness, fatigue, depression, can be seen as the individual symptoms of what needs to be cured. They contribute to the maintenance of the existing order, to my docile adjustment to idiotic norms, and to the modernization of my crutches. They specify the selection of my opportune, compliant, and productive tendencies, as well as those that must be gently discarded. “It’s never too late to change, you know.” But taken as facts, my failings can also lead to the dismantling of the hypothesis of the self. They then become acts of resistance in the current war. They become a rebellion and a force against everything that conspires to normalize us, to amputate us. The self is not something within us that is in a state of crisis; it is the form they mean to stamp upon us. They want to make our self something sharply defined, separate, assessable in terms of qualities, controllable, when in fact we are creatures among creatures, singularities among similars, living flesh weaving the flesh of the world. Contrary to what has been repeated to us since childhood, intelligence doesn’t mean knowing how to adapt—or if that is a kind of intelligence, it’s the intelligence of slaves. Our inadaptability, our fatigue, are only problems from the standpoint of what aims to subjugate us. They indicate rather a departure point, a meeting point, for new complicities. They reveal a landscape more damaged, but infinitely more sharable than all the fantasy lands this society maintains for its purposes.

We are not depressed; we’re on strike. For those who refuse to manage themselves, “depression” is not a state but a passage, a bowing out, a sidestep towards a political disaffiliation. From then on medication and the police are the only possible forms of conciliation. This is why the present society doesn’t hesitate to impose Ritalin on its over-active children, or to strap people into life-long dependence on pharmaceuticals, and why it claims to be able to detect “behavioral disorders” at age three. Because everywhere the hypothesis of the self is beginning to crack.

[japanesedoramaandanimelover91]

Kazunari Ninomiya, who won an award in the Arts and Culture category, made his debut as a member of the popular idol group Arashi and appeared in many popular films and TV series. Even after going independent from the agency he belonged to for many years, he remained active as an actor, entertaining many fans with his "YouTube" videos and writing. We asked Ninomiya-san, who is at the forefront of the Japanese entertainment world, about what he values in his creative endeavours and his future aspirations.

-I often watch the "YouTube" channel that Ninomiya-san created with Yuichi Nakamaru, Ryosuke Yamada and Fuma Kikuchi. This "Yonino Channel" has gained the highest popularity in the entertainment world, and the other day, "All Night Nippon Premium" was also broadcast, where the members act as hosts. Ninomiya-san's passion for entertaining his fans is clearly felt these days.

Ninomiya-Thank you very much. On "YouTube" i want to be able to show you what i really like and how i like it, in its purest form.’

-So Ninomiya-san shows the part where he's genuinely having fun.

Nino-If we don't do that, i don't think the audience will be able to fully enjoy it. The staff suggests different projects, and after we're in full agreement with them, we do what we like. We may cancel projects that look too much like television or seem forced. In this case, i think fans will enjoy it more if we just talk. -Is it because Ninomiya-san built his career that he was able to do this? Or is it because "YouTube" is a place with a lot of freedom? Has the environment changed significantly since you became independent from the agency?

Nino-The environment can be a big factor…. But my mindset hasn't changed much. The desire to share the fun with my fans has always been a prerequisite for any job. We have worked hard to make "Arashi" concerts a time and space that people can still enjoy, whether they are close to the stage or far from it, or even if the blind or hearing impaired come. That's what we did it for. to have fun in the first place. It's ingrained in us. But "YouTube" is a step down from that, and in a good way it's a little bit easier to get into, so maybe that's why people are so favourable to it.

-Watching "YouTube" and entertainment shows on TV, I realised that Ninomiya-san has very good small talk skills. The conversation is very natural and interesting. I think you're very adept at choosing your words, whether it's on "X" (formerly Twitter) or in an essay for a series of magazines.

Nino-is this true? If so, i think my life has been shaped by encountering more words than the average person in film and TV scripts. After receiving the script, when i'm forgiven, i feel like i change the line text as i see fit so that the words can come out and i haven't given it too much thought.’ -This Suits Of The Year was chosen under the theme of "Stimulating the Five Senses," and we chose people who excelled in their fields. Ninomiya-san, you've helped many people in many different fields, including acting, but is there anything you keep in mind while doing your expressive activities or anything you're doing to improve your skills as an artiste?

Nino-Hmm, that's a tough one. If i had to pick one thing, it would be games, even when I'm busy (laughs).

-You like games, don't you? Do you feel rested?

Nino-Instead of trying to change my mood, i want to keep my energy up by playing games. The more i have to work, the more i end up playing "Puzzle and Dragons". I get a lot more ideas that way. It's a strange story, but i have to create a situation where i don't have enough time. In the past, i was always short of time, doing doramas, appearing on entertainment shows, and then going on tour. I really don't mind that kind of busyness. I actually prefer this high rotation speed, so i try to maintain a high rotation speed during games and i feel like I'm already mentally prepared.

-Wouldn't it be a good idea to rest here?

Nino-No. Maybe i'm the kind of person who doesn't need a long rest.

--I feel like the game makes me immerse myself in the world.

Nino-This is a bit contradictory, but the more you immerse yourself in the world of the game, the more you don't have to think about anything. For example, even when I have to memorise lines for a TV drama, i still play games, i can concentrate on a lot of things.

--This feeling is a bit interesting. It would be the best environment for me.

Nino-Right. When words come into your head when you're not thinking about them, it's hard to get rid of them. If you're in a hurry and you're thinking, ‘i have to remember, i have to remember,’ they won't come in at all. Even during meetings, i write them down on the board. Sometimes i come up with better ideas while playing than when i face them face to face. Sometimes i get scolded and ask, "Are you really listening to me?" But that's never a problem for me. Now that i've started working in the entertainment industry myself, i often catch myself thinking, "Wow, this is how things work." For example, when it comes to working in film, so far someone has had to do all the work for me. All i had to do was memorise the script. When i think of the people who have done all this for me, i am truly grateful. I want to work feeling that gratitude. It's good to try new things, but i also want to acknowledge again what i've done, is very important to me right now, and that in itself is a challenge. For example, if i were to start making music again, where would i release my album and how would I do it alone, i think that would be a huge challenge.

-What do you see for the future of "offices"?

Nino-If the company wants to keep going the way it is, i want to attract all kinds of people. I started this company for myself, but i want to help people who share the same thoughts as i do and feel stuck in some way. There is someone, i would be happy to take them on and work with them, whether i can help them or not. I hope some kind of chemical reaction happens between us.

Ninomiya-san has worn a variety of suits due to his job, but he has surprisingly few suits and isn't particularly picky about them. However, it seems like it took him a long time to choose the fabric for this suit from Paul Stewart.

Nino-I wanted to use a fabric that could be worn in a variety of situations and that would fit well on the body. This suit was recommended to me in the shop and I liked it because when I saw it, it had a soft texture. I tried it on and it was just as comfortable as I expected. I think suits are worn when you want to look fresh, but the feel of this fabric allows you to relax and act casual, I felt that way.

The colour pattern with light grey base and wide stripes is also new to him.

Nino-Was a type of fabric with a narrower pitch of stripes, but I thought this one gave a softer impression. The tailoring is very lightweight and I think it will make people I meet feel more relaxed, as I heard from the stylist. I said earlier that this suit looks good with knitwear, but I'd like to try wearing it a bit more fun.

Paul Stewart in a tailored suit.

A bespoke tailored suit based on the Baker model, which is a relatively new model amongst the brand. The very soft-textured flannel fabric is made by the prestigious Italian company Vitale Barberis Canonico. It has a light grey base with a touch of green and slightly wide stripes. The trousers have a neatly tapered silhouette. A single fit is included to create a moderate amount of space around the waist. Combined with the laid-back vibe of the lightweight, shoulderless jacket, it feels like a go-to suit for going out to work.

Kazunari Ninomiya was born in 1983, in Tokyo. He is a member of the male idol group ‘Arashi’ and is active in various fields including acting, voice actor, TV host and blogger. He made his Hollywood debut in the 2006 film "Letters from Iwojima". He won the 39th "Japan Academy Award for Best Actor" for the 2015 film Kurashiba and His Mother and the sixty-fifth "Blue Ribbon Award" for "Best Actor" for "From Camp with Love", released in 2022. Declared independence in October 2023 and established the Office ni no.

Interviewer: Kazuka Matsumoto, Editor-in-Chief of NIKKEI Magazine, Composition: Iwao Yoshida, Photo: Yoshiaki Tsutsui.

[somethingvicked]

True love of mine part 13

warnings: female reader, fluff, slight nsfw.

Now

Y/N

After Eddie’s statement things got better. Your Instagram was still private so no one could send hateful messages to you. That didn’t stop them from making rude comments on Eddie’s account however, but you could live with that.

As long as no one sprayed hateful words on your building or tried to throw eggs at you when you went outside, it was okay.

Already you and Eddie were planning to move in together. A bit soon, some might say, but you had known each other since you were barely twelve years old – you’d already gone through the dating stage back when you were teenagers.

It just felt silly to start dating again. Even so you both knew that fifteen years apart could’ve brought changes so you decided to wait a month at least before starting to look for a place together, and see if any troubles came up.

It didn’t, so when the month was up you gave your notice to your landlord.

Eddie was usually based in Los Angeles, where he had a house, but he also had an apartment in your city, which is where he had stayed since you two reconnected that night after the concert.

You couldn’t move to Los Angeles because of your job, though, and Eddie understood that. He said that his job was flexible, he could practically live everywhere. Most of his team lived in L.A. but in the age of technology everything was possible.

You two agreed to find a new place together, because your apartment was too small for Eddie to have a studio in and Eddie didn’t want you to move in with him – he wanted you two to have a place that belonged to you both.

Eddie would sell his apartment in the city but keep his place in Los Angeles, for when he was needed there.

You said no when Eddie wanted to buy a big house for you two – you had never seen the point in having a house with eighteen rooms when there was just two people living in it. Eddie also needed privacy from his fans so you decided on a condo, in a secure building. Eddie would pay the bigger share of the rent, because he needed more space to work.

You would get your own study for when you needed to work at home and to keep your collection of notebooks with your poetry as well as shelves for your regular book.

Eddie had been concerned over you going to yoga classs and after a few times when journalists and gossip bloggers had crowded you, you understood why.

Eddie offered to hire you a private yoga instructor, but you didn’t want him to pay for your exercise, so instead you two agreed that you would use apps on your phone instead. Eddie had already wanted a gym in the apartment - or live in a building with a gym available for its tenants - for his own workouts. Since Eddie would use the gym as well, you agreed. 

You didn’t try to be obnoxious on purpose, you knew that Eddie would share every penny he had with you, without you asking for it.

But the comments about you being a gold digger had stung more than you realized. They could call you ugly, old and everything in between that, but they wouldn’t accuse you of taking advantage of Eddie. You never had and you never would.

And perhaps it was a bit of a pride thing, too. You would never make as much money as Eddie did but you refused to not contribute to anything in this new home of yours.

Otherwise it would be the same thing as you moving in with Eddie, with everything being his, in all but name.

Eddie hired a real-estate agent to help you find a place and you two were lucky – only a month after the first, the ‘test’ month, they had found an apartment that met your criteria.

Eddie

It took about two weeks for Eddie and Y/N to move into their new home. It would take a bit more time to unpack and make it an actual home, but Eddie didn’t care. He and Y/N were back together and now they were also living together in a place of their own.

Eddie planned on making good of his promise, to propose to her, but decided to wait with that – maybe on the the very anniversary date which they both had tattooed on their arms – the day they met.

They could even have a year long engagement then and then marry on the same date. That would be amazing.

One day when they were unpacking and Eddie placed his box of jewelry in the closet while Y/N was stashing away her shoes – God, so many shoes! – she asked Eddie a question he had just waited for her to ask.

“Hey, what happened with your guitar pick necklace? You used to wear that all the time but not now.”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his eyes. He remembered the devastation he had felt when losing it. That pick had been like his lucky charm for so long.

“I lost it when I went to jail,” he confessed, shaking his head. “I had it on me the day they transferred me and it was supposed to stay among my things until I got out. But when I got out and my things were returned it wasn’t there. Someone must have taken it. I complained, of course, but what could I do?”

Y/N gaped at that and then came over and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, running her fingers through Eddie’s curly hair. “I know how much that pick meant to you.”

He nodded. “Yeah. But still, if I had to pick which I’d rather have back, I would always chose you.”

Y/n snorted at that but gave him a kiss, a look on her face Eddie recognized. It meant she was thinking about something, but when Eddie asked what it was she just smiled and said it was nothing.

Turned out it was not nothing, Eddie found out a few days later when she came home with a present for him. Eddie was surprised, because it wasn’t his birthday, but she snorted at that and said that it hadn’t been her birthday when he got her the cat ring either. “When you’re in a relationship you can give presents whenever,” Y/N told Eddie with a smile. “In fact ‘whenever’ is the best time for a present!”

He laughed at that and then opened the present, his jaw dropping when he saw that it was a small jewlery box, inside a chain with a small guitar pick in silver, and the inscription, I will always pick you.

Tears clouded Eddie’s eyes as he immediately put it on and then lifted Y/N up in his arms, refusing to let go for over ten minutes.

That was also when he got the bright idea for them to ‘christen’ their home by having sex in every room of it.

Then,

Hawkins, 1984

“Hey, can I ask you a question,” Y/N said one day when they were sitting on the couch in Wayne’s trailer, sharing a joint.

“Sure,” Eddie said, blowing out smoke. “What’s on your mind, kitten?”

“Where did you get this?” she asked curiously, leaning forward and touching his guitar pick necklace.

The neckline of her shirt fell with her movement and Eddie had to swallow hard to be able to answer and not just stare at her beautiful breasts. It didn’t matter how many times he saw them, they were always gorgeous to me.

“Earth to Eddie!” Y/N giggled and waved a hand in front of his eyes.

“Hmm? Oh! Well, it’s not that deep of a story, kitten. It was the first guitar pick I ever owned. I bought it myself with my allowance when I was eight years old and started to play guitar.

I of course bought and acquired new ones later on during the years, but somehow… that became my lucky charm. A reminder of the first time I managed to get a melody out of a guitar and realized that I was good at something. Not just a failure of a kid, with a dead mother and a criminal father. That I was good at something too.”

Y/N’s eyes became wet and she took the joint from him, wrapping her arms around my his neck and kissing him.

“You are good at a lot of things, Eddie. So many things. Not just guitar, even though you have a heck of talent. But you know what’s more important than that? You are a good person. The best person I know. And even better – you’re my good person. My favorite person.”

taglist: @ali-r3n @quinnyficsy @mewchiili @melodymunson @ches-86 @jenniquinn @eddiemunsonfuxks @stolen-in-moonlight @alastorssimp @pandemoniusstuff

(let me know if you want to be on the taglist!)

please, like, comment and reblog!

Your likes are wonderful but reblogs expand my reading circle.

[mpregtales]

Leo & Nate Part 1

Leo had always found solace in the rhythm of New York City. The hum of the metropolis, with its ceaseless energy and eclectic mix of souls, was the perfect backdrop for his life. At 23, he had carved out a space for himself in Brooklyn, where he could pursue his passion for music. Dark brown hair curled just above his ears, and a light dusting of facial hair accentuated his sharp features. With an athletic build, Leo was the embodiment of a modern rock musician—his electric guitar slung effortlessly over his shoulder, his fingers dancing across the strings with a fervor that spoke of years spent practicing in secret, away from the disapproving eyes of his parents in rural Connecticut.

Music had always been Leo’s escape. It began with a single concert—The Rolling Stones' Live Licks tour at Madison Square Garden. His Uncle Jack, a Wall Street financier with a penchant for rock and roll, had taken him to the show. The energy, the crowd, the sheer power of the music—it was intoxicating. Leo was just a boy then, but from that moment on, he knew he was meant for something different. He threw himself into learning music, teaching himself to play the guitar, immersing himself in the history of rock legends, and dreaming of one day making a name for himself in the music world.

But Leo’s parents had other plans. They were not religious but held firmly to socially conservative values. They envisioned a traditional life for him—college, a stable job, a wife, and children. But Leo couldn’t reconcile their expectations with his own dreams. Growing up, he was always more mature than his peers, with interests that set him apart. By the time he reached high school, it became clear to him that he was different in more ways than one. When he came out as gay during his senior year, the fragile peace between him and his parents shattered. Their disappointment was palpable, and the friction that had been building for years finally reached a breaking point. Leo’s parents pushed him out of the house, unable to accept the life he wanted to lead.

Leo found refuge with Uncle Jack and his family in New York City. Jack lived with his wife, Kay, and their two daughters, Denise and Ash, in a spacious apartment in Manhattan. They welcomed Leo with open arms, providing the support he desperately needed. Jack even got Leo a job in his office, but the world of finance wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to be a burden on Jack’s family, even though they insisted he was welcome to stay as long as he needed. After a few months, Leo saved enough money to rent a small apartment in Brooklyn. It was modest, but it was his—a space where he could be himself, free from the constraints of his parents’ expectations.

Leo stayed close to Uncle Jack’s family, visiting them often, and relishing the stability they provided. But his heart was in his music. In Brooklyn, he found a community of like-minded souls, people who shared his passion for rock and roll. He started a band with some friends—guys who, like him, had day jobs to pay the bills but lived for the nights when they could take the stage and lose themselves in the music. They played in clubs around the city, making just enough money to keep the dream alive. Leo was the lead guitarist, and though he didn’t sing much, his occasional vocals were raw and powerful, a reflection of the emotions he poured into every note. Most Fridays, you could find Leo and his bandmates on stage, giving it their all before returning to the 9-to-5 grind the following week.

Nate, on the other hand, had taken a different path to the city. At 25, he was a gifted artist with a natural talent for painting. Tall, blonde, and with an athletic build, Nate had an air of quiet intensity about him. His life had been marked by loss and longing—growing up in foster care after his teenage parents gave him up, Nate never quite felt like he belonged. His birth parents were two kids themselves, too young and too overwhelmed to raise a child. They put Nate up for adoption, but he was never chosen. Instead, he bounced from one foster family to another, never staying long enough to feel at home.

The closest thing Nate had to a real family was Linda and Jeffrey, an older couple in California who fostered him from ages eight to thirteen. They were avid collectors of art, their home filled with paintings that fascinated Nate. Linda and Jeffrey recognized his talent early on and nurtured it, paying for art classes and encouraging him to pursue his passion. Nate loved them dearly, and they loved him back. He felt safe with them, and for the first time, he believed he had found a place where he truly belonged. They even planned to adopt him, and Nate couldn’t have been happier.

But fate had other plans. One day, while Linda and Jeffrey were out running errands, their car was hit by a semi-truck. Jeffrey was killed instantly, and Linda was left in critical condition. Nate spent days at the hospital, praying for her recovery, but she passed away soon after. The loss shattered him, and his world fell apart. He was sent to another foster family—his last before he aged out of the system. But this family was nothing like Linda and Jeffrey. They were abusive, both emotionally and physically, leaving Nate with scars that ran deep.

Despite the hardships, Nate’s talent for painting never wavered. He earned a full scholarship to an art school in New York, a chance to start over in a city that promised opportunity and anonymity. The transition was tough, and Nate often felt alone, but he found solace in his art. He threw himself into his work, and his paintings began to gain attention. Nate managed to sell a few pieces, and with the money he made, he rented his own apartment in Brooklyn. Slowly, he built a new life for himself, making friends at art school and developing a small but loyal clientele for his work.

Nate was bisexual, having dated both men and women during his time at art school. He was still figuring out who he was, still searching for the connection that had eluded him for so long. And then, one Friday night, everything changed.

It was a typical Friday night at The Velvet Knot, a small but popular venue in Manhattan where Leo’s band was performing. The joint was packed, the air thick with the smell of beer and the sound of clinking glasses. Leo was in his element, strumming his guitar and backing up the lead singer, who was already a few drinks too deep. The bassist, Tony, had recently met a girl named Sarah and invited her to the show. She didn’t want to go alone, so she brought her best friend, Nate, along for the ride.

Nate wasn’t sure what to expect. He had planned to stay in and finish a painting, but Sarah had convinced him to come out for a drink. He didn’t know anyone else in the group, and when they arrived at the venue, he felt a little out of place. But as soon as the band started playing, his attention was drawn to the stage—and to Leo. There was something about the way Leo played, the way he moved, that captivated Nate. He felt a flutter in his chest, a sensation he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

The band’s lead singer, Rick, was the classic frontman—charismatic, with a voice that could command a room and a personality to match. Rick was known for living life on the edge, and his turbulent love life was a constant source of gossip among their circle. That night at The Velvet Knot, Rick was in rare form, downing shots between songs like a man on a mission. His girlfriend, Claire, had just broken up with him, and it wasn’t the first time. The band had a running joke that Rick and Claire were as stable as a house of cards in a crossfire hurricane. Their on-again, off-again relationship was a rollercoaster, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before it would crash for good. But Rick, ever the hopeless romantic, refused to see it that way.

As the band played through their set, it became clear that Rick was struggling. His voice began to slur, his words becoming less coherent with each song. By the time they finished a cover of Led Zeppelin’s “Rock and Roll,” it was obvious they couldn’t continue with him on lead vocals. Leo exchanged a knowing look with Tony, their bassist, and Mark, their drummer. They needed to finish the gig to get paid, and there was only one solution.

“Leo, you gotta take over,” Tony said, his voice low but urgent. “Rick’s done for the night.”

Leo hesitated. He wasn’t used to being in the spotlight, but he knew there was no other option. “Alright,” he nodded, picking up the mic. “Let’s do this.”

As Leo stepped forward, the crowd’s energy shifted. He launched into a cover of The Rolling Stones’ “Happy,” his voice strong and clear. The audience responded immediately, the room buzzing with excitement. And then, in the middle of the chorus, Leo’s eyes swept over the crowd and locked with Nate’s. It was only a brief moment, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity through both of them.

The set continued with more Rolling Stones covers—“Honky Tonk Women,” “Jumpin’ Jack Flash,” and a few others. By the time the band finished, the crowd was buzzing with excitement. As the music faded and the lights dimmed, Leo and the band joined their friends in the audience. Sarah introduced Nate to the group, and when she introduced him to Leo, there was a moment of awkwardness, followed by a shared smile.

When the set ended, the band joined their friends in the audience. Sarah introduced Nate to the group, and when she introduced him to Leo, there was a moment of awkwardness, followed by a shared smile.

“Nice set,” Nate said, trying to keep his cool, though his heart was pounding in his chest.

“Thanks,” Leo replied, his eyes lingering on Nate a little longer than necessary. “Glad you could make it.”

“So, what’s the deal with your lead singer?” Nate asked, glancing over at Rick, who was now slumped over a table, a drink still in hand.

Leo chuckled, shaking his head. “Rick’s going through a rough patch—again. He and his girlfriend just broke up, for what, the tenth time? We keep telling him it’s not gonna last, but he’s stubborn.”

“Sounds like a mess,” Nate said with a grin. “But you handled it well. I’ve never heard anyone cover ‘Happy’ like that.”

Leo’s smile widened, a hint of pride in his expression. “Thanks. I’m usually more comfortable behind the guitar, but sometimes you just have to step up, you know?”

“I get that,” Nate nodded, feeling a connection forming between them. “I’m the same way with my art. I’m a painter, and sometimes I feel like the canvas is my shield. But there are moments when you have to put yourself out there, be vulnerable.”

Leo’s interest piqued. “A painter? That’s awesome. I’ve always admired artists—takes a lot of guts to put your work out there for everyone to see.”

“It’s not always easy,” Nate admitted. “But it’s what I love. Just like you and music.”

They continued talking, the conversation flowing naturally between them. Leo was struck by Nate’s quiet intensity, the way he spoke about art and life with such passion. Nate, in turn, was drawn to Leo’s charisma, his warmth, and the depth he sensed behind those hazel eyes. As the night went on, they found themselves gravitating toward each other, sharing stories of their pasts, their struggles, and their dreams for the future.

By the end of the night, they had exchanged numbers, both secretly hoping this was the start of something more. As it turned out, their Brooklyn apartments were just three stops away from each other on the F train. The following week, they met for coffee at a small café near Nate’s studio. What was meant to be a quick drink turned into hours of conversation. They talked about everything—music, art, their pasts, their dreams for the future.

On that first date, Nate found himself captivated by Leo’s stories. Leo’s journey from a small town in Connecticut to the vibrant streets of New York fascinated Nate. He admired how Leo had stayed true to himself despite the obstacles he faced—the rejection from his parents, the struggle to make a life for himself in a city that could be as unforgiving as it was inspiring. Leo, in turn, was fascinated by Nate’s resilience. Growing up in foster care, losing the closest thing he had to a family, and still managing to find his way to New York, to pursue his art—Nate was a survivor, and Leo admired that deeply.

As they got to know each other better, their feelings for each other grew. Leo loved how Nate’s mind worked, how he could see the world in ways that others couldn’t. Nate’s art was an extension of himself—each painting a reflection of his experiences, his emotions, his view of the world. And Nate loved how Leo brought music to life, how he could take a simple melody and turn it into something powerful and moving. They found that their artistic passions were more than just hobbies—they were the core of who they were, and they understood that about each other in a way that few others could.

Their personalities complemented each other perfectly. Leo was the spark—energetic, spontaneous, always ready to take on the world. Nate was the steady flame—calm, introspective, providing a balance to Leo’s fiery spirit. Together, they brought out the best in each other. Nate helped Leo see the beauty in the quiet moments, in the details of life that could be easily overlooked. And Leo encouraged Nate to take risks, to step out of his comfort zone and embrace the unpredictability of life.

Over the next few months, they spent more and more time together. They explored the city, visiting art galleries, catching live performances, and sharing meals at little-known restaurants that became their favorites. They found joy in the simple things—taking long walks through Central Park, staying up late talking about their dreams, and just being in each other’s company. The more they learned about each other, the deeper their connection grew.

One evening, after a particularly long day at work, Leo found his thoughts drifting to Nate. Over the past few months, their connection had deepened in ways he hadn’t expected. Nate wasn’t just someone he enjoyed spending time with—he was someone he could see a future with. The thought both thrilled and scared him, but more than anything, it felt right. That night, Nate had invited Leo over to his apartment for dinner, a quiet evening in after a hectic week. Leo had eagerly accepted, looking forward to the comfort of Nate’s presence.

Nate’s apartment was a reflection of his artistic spirit—filled with light, color, and the subtle scent of oil paints. The walls were adorned with his artwork, a mix of finished pieces and canvases still in progress. It was a space that felt both lived-in and deeply personal, a sanctuary where Nate’s creativity flourished.

They shared a cozy meal of homemade pasta and red wine, the conversation flowing easily as always. After they finished eating, Nate suggested they move to his studio, where he had been working on some new pieces. Leo agreed, eager to see more of Nate’s world.

Nate led him into the studio, a large room at the back of the apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the soft glow of the city lights. The space was cluttered in a way that felt purposeful, with canvases propped against the walls, paintbrushes scattered on the tables, and a faint hum of music playing in the background. It was here that Nate spent most of his time, creating art that was as complex and layered as the man himself.

As they wandered through the room, Nate stopped in front of a particular painting, still a work in progress. The canvas was large, dominated by deep blues and greens, with strokes of vibrant yellow cutting through the darker shades. It was abstract, yet there was a sense of movement and emotion that drew Leo in.

“This one’s been on my mind a lot lately,” Nate said, his voice thoughtful as he gazed at the painting. “I’ve been trying to capture the feeling of... I don’t know, hope, maybe? Or the idea of finding light in the darkness.”

Leo studied the painting, feeling the weight of Nate’s words. “It’s beautiful, Nate. There’s so much energy in it, like it’s alive. I can feel what you’re trying to say through it.”

Nate turned to look at Leo, his eyes searching. “That’s what I love about art. It’s a way to express things that are hard to put into words. Like how we’ve both been through a lot, but we’ve found something good, something bright in each other.”

Leo felt his heart race as Nate’s words sank in. There was a vulnerability in the way Nate was looking at him, a raw honesty that matched what Leo was feeling. He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving Nate’s. Slowly, Nate reached out and caressed Leo’s face, his thumb brushing softly against Leo’s cheek.

“Nate,” Leo began, his voice soft but steady, “I know it’s only been a few months, but... I’m really glad we met. I feel like... I don’t know, like we just get each other, you know?”

Nate’s hand lingered on Leo’s face as he looked deeply into his eyes. “I feel the same way. I never expected to find someone like you—someone who understands what it’s like to go through what we’ve both been through, and still find joy in the world.”

There was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken emotions, before Nate leaned in and pressed his lips to Leo’s. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if they were both testing the waters. But as the seconds passed, it deepened, becoming more intense, more urgent. Leo’s hands found their way to Nate’s waist, pulling him closer as their kiss grew more passionate.

For both of them, the kiss was a confirmation of what they had been feeling for weeks—their emotions running deeper than they had allowed themselves to admit. Leo felt a rush of warmth spread through his chest, a sense of belonging that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He could feel Nate’s heartbeat against his own, the steady rhythm matching the excitement that was building between them.

When they finally pulled away, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other’s. Leo’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Nate’s gaze, which was filled with a mixture of affection and desire.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” Leo whispered, his voice barely audible. “It’s like... like everything makes sense when I’m with you.”

Nate smiled softly, his thumb tracing the outline of Leo’s jaw. “I know what you mean. It’s like we’ve been searching for something, and now we’ve found it.”

They stood there for a moment, just holding each other, before Nate gently guided Leo to the couch that was tucked into the corner of the studio. They sat down, still close, their legs brushing against each other. Leo’s hand found Nate’s, their fingers intertwining as they shared another kiss, this one slower, more tender.

As the passion between them intensified, Nate shifted closer, his free hand gliding up Leo’s back, pulling him in until their bodies were flush against each other. Leo responded eagerly, his hands exploring the firm contours of Nate’s chest, feeling the warmth radiate through the fabric of his shirt. Nate’s hands moved slowly, savoring the feel of Leo’s smooth, defined muscles beneath his fingertips. With a tender yet deliberate motion, Nate began to lift Leo’s shirt, revealing the toned lines of his chest and abdomen.

As the shirt slipped over Leo’s head, Nate paused to admire him, captivated by the way Leo’s lean physique complemented his own more muscular build. Leo’s body was like a masterpiece, every muscle sculpted and defined—almost as if he had stepped out of one of Nate’s paintings. The sight of Leo’s bare skin ignited something deep within Nate, a desire that surged through him with a force he had never felt before.

Leo, equally moved, reached for the hem of Nate’s shirt, gently pulling it upward to reveal the powerful expanse of his chest. When Nate’s shirt joined Leo’s on the floor, Leo’s hands roamed over Nate’s broad shoulders and chiseled pecs, his fingers tracing the lines of Nate’s muscles with a mixture of reverence and hunger. The closeness of their bodies, the feel of their bare skin pressed together, kindled a fire between them that was unlike anything either had ever experienced.

Their kisses grew more heated, more urgent, as the passion between them blazed into an uncontrollable fire. Nate’s hands traveled down Leo’s back, tracing the smooth curve of his spine before resting on the firm, rounded muscles of Leo’s buttocks. With deliberate slowness, Nate began to unbutton Leo’s jeans, his fingers brushing against the denim before sliding the fabric down over Leo’s hips. As he did, Leo’s hands settled on the taut, muscular contours of Nate’s glutes, gripping them with an appreciation that transcended mere physical attraction.

Leo had always taken pride in his athletic build, particularly the fullness of his glutes, which had drawn admiration from others in the past. But when Nate’s hands settled there, appreciating the strong, rounded muscles, it felt different—more intimate, more profound.

Breaking the kiss, Leo gasped for breath, his eyes locking with Nate’s, now darkened with desire. “You’re stunning, Leo,” Nate whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Like a Greek Adonis.”

Leo’s heart pounded at Nate’s words, the compliment sending a surge of heat through him. As the intensity between them deepened, Leo instinctively turned onto all fours. Slowly, he reached back, sliding his underwear down to reveal his smooth, fuzzy, muscular cheeks. With a deliberate arch of his back, he offered himself to Nate, his heart racing in his chest as a potent mix of anticipation and vulnerability coursed through him.

Nate took a moment to drink in the sight before him. Leo’s body was a masterpiece of strength and beauty, his glutes full and rounded, the muscles subtly flexing as he held himself steady. The combination of Leo’s athletic frame and the vulnerability of his position ignited a powerful wave of desire in Nate, stirring something deep and primal within him.

As the intensity of the moment grew, Nate’s hands trembled slightly while he began to unbutton his jeans, the anticipation thick in the air. Leo’s eyes widened, a mix of awe and anticipation shining in them as Nate slid off his underwear, revealing the impressive length and girth of his manhood. The sight sent a surge of raw, primal desire coursing through Leo, his heart pounding with longing.

Nate leaned forward, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses along the small of Leo’s back, savoring the feel of the smooth skin beneath them. His hands moved to gently caress Leo’s hips, tracing the contours of his cheeks with a reverent touch. Nate’s movements were slow, deliberate, building the anticipation between them as he lifted himself up with his strong arms, positioning himself over Leo.

With a playful smile, Nate tapped his hardened length against Leo’s right cheek, causing it to bounce slightly. The gesture sent a delicious ripple of desire through Leo, the sensation heightening the tension and deepening the connection between them.

Taking his time, Nate applied lubricant to his impressive length, ensuring every inch was slick and ready. With a gentle touch, he spread a cool layer of the lubricant over Leo’s entrance using his index finger, the sensation sending a shiver of anticipation through Leo’s body. A soft moan escaped Leo’s lips, his body instinctively responding to the care and intimacy of Nate’s touch.

Nate then carefully positioned himself between Leo’s cheeks, guiding the tip of his manhood to rest just at the entrance. Leo could feel the pressure of Nate’s bulbous head against the delicate folds of his skin, a sensation that made his heart race with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

As Nate began to press forward, the tip slowly breached Leo, who instinctively flexed his glutes to accommodate the initial intrusion. With each measured push, Nate eased himself deeper, the sensation of stretching and adjusting intense yet exhilarating for Leo. His hands clenched the sheets beneath him, gripping them tightly as he felt Nate fill him, inch by inch, until finally, Nate’s hips met the firm, rounded muscles of Leo’s cheeks, their bodies fully joined.

Both men let out deep, resonant moans, the pleasure they shared unlike anything Leo had ever experienced. As Nate leaned forward to place a tender kiss on the nape of Leo’s neck, they both reveled in the closeness and profound intimacy of the moment. Leo’s body was warm, inviting, and perfectly fitted to Nate, as though they were made for each other.

Nate began to move with a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hands firmly gripping Leo’s hips as he found a pace that felt instinctual and deeply satisfying. With each movement, Leo surrendered more fully to the moment, the sensation of Nate inside him overwhelming in its intensity. The way their bodies moved in perfect harmony was almost too much to bear, a symphony of pleasure that built with every thrust.

As Nate gradually intensified his pace, Leo’s glutes responded with a rhythmic bounce, his cheeks reverberating with each powerful thrust. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, the pleasure within him building to a crescendo. Every thrust from Nate awakened a newfound, electrifying need in Leo, driving them both closer to the edge, united in a moment of pure, unrestrained passion.

Nate’s grip on Leo’s hips tightened, his fingers digging into the firm, rounded flesh as he drove them both deeper into the moment. Their gasps and moans filled the room, creating a symphony of passion that echoed the intensity of their connection. As the rhythm between them grew more fervent, Leo’s body responded with equal force, his glutes flexing and relaxing with each thrust. At one point, Leo took control, pushing himself back onto Nate with deliberate movements, eliciting a deep, guttural moan of pleasure from Nate.

Nate leaned forward, pressing his chest against Leo’s back as he continued to move. The heat between them was almost unbearable, but they were lost in each other, completely consumed by the love and desire that pulsed between them, drawing them closer with every passing second. The tension in Leo’s body built to an almost unbearable crescendo, the sensation of Nate moving within him pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Nate’s breath grew ragged as he felt the pressure building, each thrust bringing them both closer to a powerful release. “Leo… you feel so perfect,” Nate murmured, his voice thick with emotion and need. “I’m so close…”

“Me too,” Leo gasped, his voice trembling with anticipation. “I need you, Nate… don’t stop…”

With one final, powerful thrust, the tension that had been building within them both reached its peak. Nate let out an impassioned groan as Leo was overcome by the intense warmth spreading through him as Nate filled him completely. The sensation was overwhelming, the depth of their connection almost too much to bear. The wave of pleasure that crashed over them was so powerful it left them both trembling, their bond deepening and solidifying in a way neither had ever experienced before. In that moment, their bodies and souls were perfectly in sync, united in an embrace that transcended the physical, binding them together in a profound love and shared ecstasy.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, Nate gently withdrew, his hands caressing Leo’s cheeks one last time before he turned him to his side and held him close. Their bodies were still humming with the afterglow, their hearts racing as they tried to process what had just happened.

Nate pressed an impassioned kiss to Leo’s lips as they lay together on the couch. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion and certainty.

Leo’s eyes shone with tears of happiness as he looked up at Nate. “I love you too,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, but carrying the weight of his feelings.

As they lay entwined in the quiet of the night, their bodies still connected, neither of them could have imagined that this night of passion would soon lead to a new chapter in their lives—one that would bring them even closer together and test the strength of their love in ways they had yet to discover.

Leo & Nate Part 2