#they really really really should have hired a drag artist

[normalady]

..... It's not even even

Baffling

[nanamiscocksleeve]

For my request, can you write a oneshot featuring Nanami and a woman reader in an Aladdin AU with chastity and edging please? In the story, Nanami has been hired to work as a palace guard for the sultana aka the reader. But he realizes too late that part of the job involves having his cock locked in a chastity cage and enduring various edging tests to determine his willpower. What do you think?

As You Wish, Princess

I'm so sorry this took so long! Here you go! I truly had fun writing this because subby Nanami isn't requested too often. Also, the premise was really fresh, which is something I've been struggling with. Ideas for JJK seem to be going like hotcakes, and while I can appreciate different takes on the same idea, I always want mine to be different, even if it's slightly.

Warnings: MDNI, coercion, male chastity, edging, ruined orgasm, power dynamics, dubcon

Applying for a position as a palace guard for the precious sultana was something Nanami had done for two reasons; one, the pay was amazing, and two, the position came with living quarters. As someone who had lived a hard life in the small streets of the marketplace as a laborer, there had been no qualms in his mind when a man from the palace had walked through the dusty roads calling out that the palace was hiring help. 

When he’d arrived at the outer courtyard, looking dog-eared and dirty, the designated official had looked at him up and down, wrinkling his nose, but had refrained from saying anything on account of his impressively muscled and toned body, the long hours spent dragging bags of rice, wheat, and other essential grains making him akin to a sharp, chiseled, marble statue, something that should belong in a museum for others to wonder at. He towered over the puny official who had directed him to the head guard. They had an array of tests that he needed to pass and he had done so with ease; running a mile within a few minutes, climbing various obstacles to check his core strength, and how quickly he could escape when surrounded on all sides. The only test he had almost failed was swordsmanship, barely managing to take down his opponent, winning by a hair. 

“The sultana has a final test of her own, after which it’ll be determined if you can keep the job. Wait here.” The head guard walks off into the cool, marbled entrance of the palace, and Nanami paces, awaiting his return. It takes a while before the guard comes strutting back, and then beckons him to follow. Nanami walks unassumingly behind him eyes scanning the opulence that is the palace. The marble seemed to shine, spotless and polished, with hints of gold tucked away artistically. Small murals adorned the walls and ceilings, rich tapestries hung everywhere. 

The guard leads him to a private wing where there is a single door, quite plain looking and rather lackluster. “The sultana is waiting in there. And remember peasant, whatever she tells you to do, do it. No questions, lest you want to be beheaded for impudence. Now go on. Don’t keep her waiting.” He knocks on the door and leaves. 

Nanami waits, wondering what kind of test this would be, and then startles when the door opens. You look at him with pretty eyes lined in kohl, dressed in a simple, flowy, full-armed, muslin dress that managed to flatter your figure despite not giving anything away. He bows and waits. 

You giggle. “Well, aren’t you polite? Enter, Mr…?”

“Kento Nanami,” he supplies as he raises and walks into the room. The shades were drawn despite the heat, and the room was lit by dim oil lamps scattered across the room. He awaits his permission to sit and hears the click of the door as it shuts behind him. You move towards him, admiring the thickness of his biceps, the broadness of his shoulders, and the sinew and tightness of his thighs, barely contained by the threadbare flowy pants he was wearing. 

“What brought you here?” you ask, circling him. Nanami is acutely aware of your gaze but he acts indifferent. 

“I was told the sultana needed a bodyguard. It’s a job preferable over manual labor.”

“Oh,” you titter, then come to a halt in front of him. He’s tall, and you have to tilt your head up to look at him. “Is that all? You didn’t come to admire my beauty and grace? Or for the prospect of being the only one who would be accompanying me everywhere? While I’m eating, bathing, changing my garb…none of that came into your mind?”

Truthfully, it hadn’t. The promise of gold, a roof over his head, and food in his belly had been his only motivators. But now as he gauges you standing so sweetly in front of him with those doe-eyes and full lips, he realizes that it made sense you were asking him this. The sultana’s bodyguard needed to have self-control after all, given that parts of the job required being somewhat intimately in proximity to her, as far as the decency laws allowed. 

“I admit sultana, no, it hadn’t. But if you are worried about me behaving indecently or taking advantage of you, there’s no reason to worry. I understand my limitations and would never compromise your purity.”

“You wouldn’t?” you cock your head to the side and tsk. “How boring.”

Taken aback, Kento stares at you, unsure how to respond. It wasn’t a reply he had been expecting. Your eyes are glittering now, full of mischief, and he wonders for a split second if you were toying with him. Surely not? The sultana had a reputation to maintain. You may have said it as a joke. He mustn’t take it seriously if he wanted this job.

“I was told that the final test before qualifying to be your bodyguard was set by you, sultana,” he ventures, hoping to change the topic. “If your grace so allows, may I ask what it is?”

You hum, then wander over to one of the divans and settle down on it, fiddling with your neatly styled hair, wondering. Kento truly was a treat for the womanly eyes. How such a delectable-looking specimen had managed to stay hidden for so long truly boggled your mind. However, he was a man, and men were fallible to their desires. 

“Have you ever been with a woman, Kento?” 

The muscled man looks rather startled at the question. Purity laws meant little to those who were not nobles. Of course he had been with a woman, many in fact, but he remains silent, trying to arrange his features into one of polite inquiry. 

“I beg you pardon your grace?”

“You see, our laws dictate I cannot intimately know a man unless he is wed to me. I must remain chaste and pure for the man who is to be my future husband. And that means that whoever becomes my bodyguard must remember this at all times, even when I am in immodest situations. After all, the sultana’s bodyguard remains with her at all times, sometimes right outside the door as her husband makes love to her.” You watch him squirm uncomfortably under your gaze and he quickly bows to you.

“I beg your forgiveness sultana but I cannot discuss this matter with you. It is very unbefitting for a woman of your birth.”

You giggle at his response. “A woman of my birth? Oh, how considerate of you Kento. So am I to assume you were a rogue out in the lawless streets beyond the palace? Have you tumbled with many a maiden then? Jumping from bed to bed whenever it suited your fancy?”

The color rises in Kento’s cheeks and he continues to keep his head low. “Sultana, I understand if this raises concern for someone such as yourself but I assure you, my intentions are unsullied. If I was hired to be your bodyguard, I understand I cannot live as I previously did. I will reform of course, to your bidding. I would consecrate my life for you, your grace. No one, man or woman, is a higher priority than you.”

You consider his words but can’t resist the unholy thoughts forming in your head. His clothes were so worn that you could grab his shirt by accident and it would tear. At least, you would make it look like an accident. You wondered how those muscles would ripple if you ran your fingers across them…maybe even daring to dip your fingertip into the little depression of his belly button. 

“So incredibly dedicated. I suppose I won’t find a bodyguard who passed all the other tests and also be this devoted would I?”

“I promise your grace you will not. I will be the only security you will ever need.”

“Then you won’t mind if I test your willpower? Put you to your limit and see how much you can take before you finally snap under the tension?” There’s a strange lilt to your tone as you speak, and Nanami can’t help but have his interest piqued.

“Not at all sultana.”

“Very well. Now remember, you must obey my requests without question. This is about me ensuring you have what it takes to be my personal guard, even if what I’m asking seems…unorthodox.” You sit up straighter on the divan. “You may begin by removing your clothes.”

Kento’s eyes widen in shock his mouth going dry. You were surely joking? “Sultana?” he asks hesitantly, hoping he’d misheard you. 

You giggle. “Oh, I assure you that you heard correctly. Remove your clothes.”

The burly man looks down at himself uncertainly. Sensing his doubt, you repeat the command with a firm touch of authority. “Your sultana, the person whose life you will be responsible for, has already made her request twice. Do not make me say it again.”

Kento’s jaw clenches as he tries to think of a good way out of this. Was this a test? Was he supposed to try denying you again? It didn’t feel so, not with the way you sat with your arms crossed impatiently over your chest, the fabric of your muslin dress curving over your bosom. Kento quickly kills that thought, images of food, fresh clothes, and money in his pocket tugging at his indecisiveness. He swallows causing his Adam’s apple to bob, a gesture that does not go unnoticed, as you wait for your unwilling prey to make a move. 

You can see the cogs in his brain turning, trying to think of a strategic way to another path forward but you know there are none. He was at your mercy if he wanted the job. Kento sighs, and then to your satisfaction, his hands start to bunch up the fabric of his thin tunic.

Kento is blushing as he pulls the cloth over his head, and he stands stripped to the waist, all hard muscles and veiny arms, looking like a delicious cut of steak. Your eyes wander over his skin, tanned from the sun, with a tatch of golden hair on his pecs that trailed down over his belly button and disappeared below his pants. He truly was a stunning specimen of masculinity. You can see him growing shy, grappling with the idea of whether or not he should continue.

“Everything looks good from here. Please continue.” You prompt him, unable to stop your lip from curling as he jerks his head in your direction. With shaky hands, he undoes the drawstring that holds up his loose cotton trousers, and with a soft swoosh, they fall to the floor, leaving his powerful thighs and toned calves bare. You’re pleased to see there’s a prominent bulge in his underwear. 

“Come on now. That too.” You say cajolingly glancing at his underwear. He can barely keep his head up and he pulls them down with trembling hands and your mouth waters as his cock finally springs free, looking so pretty and needy as it rests against his belly. 

“Hmm that's more like it.” You rise gracefully and saunter over to him and before he has a chance to react you grab his erection. His mouth falls open and his eyes widen in shock. 

“You keep insisting that you’re dedicated. But I wonder how much restraint you have when you’re frustrated? Or when your patience is running thin. I believe it’s better to test it now.” You run your thumb over the head of cock, feeling the telltale signs of precum beginning to form in the slit. 

Kento was in hell but he doesn’t dare move. He knows how precarious this situation was. If anyone were to come in here and see them like this…it’s his head they would be after. He watches your small fingers wrap around him, barely touching around the column of heated velvet. He grits his teeth, a strangled grunt leaving him. What was your goal?

As you start to pump him, you can feel the angry throb of his cock, feel the pulse and observe the way the little veins bulge as you tend to him. You knew you had him cornered. He couldn’t cry for help. If he did, you would act as innocent as a lamb. You preferred it this way. Subservient guards were the best. You continue to play with him, even going as far as squeezing his balls, giving them light tugs that has him moaning, his hips bucking in hopes of finding a release. His eyes close and you can tell he was anticipating a sweet climax…before you stop, removing all physical contact and letting his cock hang in the lurch.

His eyelids fly open wildly and he looks at you in what looks like disbelief. You laugh at his state and run a finger down his brawny chest. “What did you think was going to happen here?” You see the confusion in his eyes as he tries to bring himself back to reality. “Did you forget this was a test of willpower?”

His eyes nervously follow yours as you stalk your prey. “You should be thankful I stopped before you came all over yourself. It would be messy to clean that up and there are no wash chambers nearby. You would have to go all the way down to the servant’s quarters. And I’m sure everyone would be curious as to why you’re leaving your meeting with the sultana with various stains on your clothes.”

Your eyes gleam as Kento blushes at your description. “Now, we are going to repeat this over and over again until I’m satisfied you can control yourself.” You gesture to a pouf and indicate you want him to sit down. Kento backs down shakily, unsure what to say. Morally, he knows this is wrong. But the authority you’re taking over him, this confident ownership, was gnawing away at his strength. Because didn’t the sultana own all her subjects? He was at your mercy, obliged to indulge your whims. He was ashamed at his arousal, at the thoughts forming in his head about what he would like to do to you now. He could imagine tearing off that frumpy muslin gown, exposing your nipples to his mouth while his hand presses against the tatch of curly hair between your legs while he stroked you to ecstasy.

His thought are interrupted as you kneel before him. You pump his cock again, and make direct eye contact. Wordlessly, your mouth opens, and Kento’s heart shoots into his throat as he realizes what you’re about to do. With a slurp, you take his heated flesh into your mouth, the hot wetness of it enveloping him like a glove. His fingers dig into the soft cushion and he bucks with abandon. He knows you weren’t planning on letting him cum but maybe if he was quick enough he could before you took your sweet, wet, cavern away…

You’re far too observant and quickly pull away your mouth and Kento is left heaving, an animalistic look in his eyes. He had been so close, had felt that telling scrunch of his balls before you abandoned him again. There’s a numb sensation of pain in his tip and he lays back trying to gain control.

“Not bad. Most men would be trying to pounce on me by now I suppose.” You stand, wiping saliva from your mouth, feeling the lingering aftertaste of his salty beads of precum that had escaped into your throat. You smack your lips, then make up your mind.

“You have the job.”

Disbelievingly, Kento looks at you. His cock pulsed from unleashed need. You quirk an eyebrow. “Unless, you don’t want it? Perhaps you’re a lion pretending to be a meek little kitten? Are you waiting for my back to turn so that you can pounce on me? Catch me unaware?”

Kento scampers to his feet and bows, his cock comically flopping as he expresses his gratitude. “Not at all sultana. I’m…” He clears his throat, trying to catch his breath. “I’m very thankful you’ve chosen me.”

You grin wickedly. “Of course. And I find the best guards are the ones that are always on high alert. Therefore-” You gesture at his semi-hard cock, “I think it’s best if that remains unrelieved.”

Kento feels his mouth go dry. “Unrelieved?”

“Don’t tell me that you weren’t planning on jerking yourself off once I’d dismissed you?” Your eyes gleam as he shrinks at your words. “That simply won’t do. You’re my personal guard now. Therefore, you must always be on my schedule.” 

You walk to a cabinet in the corner of the room and Kento watches you dubiously as you bring out a sort of cage made of metal. “Do you know what this is?” you ask, letting the contraption dangle from your finger. He shakes his head. He honestly had no idea.

You giggle and slip a metallic ring over his cock, pushing his balls through it and securing it behind them. The coldness makes him hard again. “Oh perfect. Makes this part easier.” You slide the strange, curved, cylindrical, device over his cock and he watches in fearful fascination as it lines up with the ring behind his balls. You smirk and slip a lock between the two, securing it in place, his cock contained inside.

“This is called a chastity cage. Think of it as a way to help your urges. From now on, your pleasure will be on my time.” Kento’s mind goes blank as he watches you pocket the key.

You chuckle. “What? This is what it means to devote your life to the sultana.” You pleasantly hand him his clothes. “Report to the main security quarters where they will give you your new uniform as well as information about your wage and living quarters. Report back here once this is all taken care of.”

You start to saunter out of the room, leaving Kento looking dumbstruck. At the door, you glance at him over your shoulder.

“Be prepared for regular testing from now on. Nothing like frequent training to keep your skills sharp hmm?” 

reblog divider by @/ cafekitsune

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@aether-seawolf @makingtimemine @snwvie @facelessfionna @sweetskozume @theimmortalbuns @supernaturalbaesduh @marusatonanhin @pwd54gr54 @brekkersgf

[janeyseymour]

The Artist in Me

Summary: a request from a LONG time ago. Reader is the upper grades art teacher, but when the lower grades art teacher has to leave, Reader ends up taking over the arts for the entire school.

WC: ~3.45k

By some Grace of God, Abbott Elementary has it in the budget this year to hire a second art teacher. And you, after leaving your old school due to issues with the principal, were able to snag the position to teach the upper levels of the school.

In the time that you’ve been at Abbott, you mostly keep to yourself upstairs and throw yourself into providing the best education that you can for these kids. Despite being a related arts teacher, you’re also able to integrate different core subjects into your teaching, and you love being able to help enrich students with information that they might not get otherwise.

You’ve also made yourself out to be a bit tougher- the younger elementary art teacher is all sunshine and rainbows, and you can’t find it in you to be like that. So, you’ve gotten the reputation as the hard-ass of the related arts programs. You don’t really care. Some of these kids need discipline, and as long as they’re doing what they’re supposed to (and not trying to eat the clay you have for pottery projects), you really aren’t that tough.

The other thing is… your principal isn’t all that fond of you. You can’t quite figure out why though. You’re always on time, you’re prepared, you stay professional. It is what it is, you suppose. So, you keep to yourself, and you don’t really mind it. You’ve always been a bit more introverted and quiet, yet not timid. The only times you really see any of the other teachers is if you walk past them in the hallways or during a faculty meeting.

During those faculty meetings, you tend to doodle. All of the things that Ava speaks of either don’t relate to you, or they pertain to trainings you’ve already taken care of. You look up at her and her slides every once in a while, just to give off the illusion that you’re paying attention, but after diligently listening to the first meeting, you realized you didn’t have to do that to keep your job.

So, instead… you draw. You draw still lives of the library, you doodle up little flowers and other scenes, and then you take to drawing portraits. You have about a dozen drawings of your own face before you decide that maybe you should attempt another subject. So, your eyes wander around the room. Your gaze immediately focuses in on the beautiful red hair that is sitting with the one group of teachers that Ava always seems to chat with during her free time, which is conveniently a lot.

Melissa, you think that’s her name, rolls her eyes at something ridiculous that comes out of your boss’s mouth, and then she turns to another teacher and fake yawns. You only get a glimpse of her eyes for a moment, but in that second, you’re captivated. They’re a stunning shade of green, and you could swear you could see the little specks of gold in them too. You spend the rest of this pointless faculty meeting trying to get a sketch of her eyes just right.

The next faculty meeting that you find yourself dragging yourself into, you pick a seat where you can see Melissa fully. And… damn. The second grade teacher has quite a figure, and her face is beautiful. You spend most of that meeting drawing the redhead as she props herself up with her elbow. You’re just perfecting the glasses that hang off Melissa’s nose when you hear your name.

“And since we are losing Miss Lee so suddenly, Y/N will be taking over all of the art classes until I can find a replacement,” Ava sighs.

Your eyes widen, and you can feel every other staff member’s eyes on you. “I- Ava, what?”

“You heard me,” your boss shrugs. “Miss Lee is moving away next week, so you’ll have the entire school.” She then continues on about another topic- one entirely unrelated to the absolute bomb that she just dropped on you.

You glance to your lower grades art teacher and give her a questioning look. She just frowns and shakes her head, a tear falling down her face silently.

You spend the rest of the meeting trying to wrap your head around the fact that you are now in charge of the entire art curriculum, and your doodling of the redheaded teacher’s emerald eyes is put on pause.

It feels like an eternity before that meeting is over, but as soon as it is, your coworker is apologizing profusely to you.

“Y/N,” Miss Lee sighs softly. “I’m so sorry. I- I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I just haven’t had the time while trying to prep everything and come up with a way for you to be able to teach everyone.”

“What’s going on?” you ask her quietly as the two of you make it out of the library and into the hall.

“I’m leaving,” is all she tells you. “I- It’s for the best… if I want to live.”

“Soph,” your jaw drops. 

“Just… trust me, okay?” your coworker wipes a tear away. “C’mon. I’ve already come up with a schedule for you. You’ll have two classes at a time, but they’ll all be doing relatively similar things, so… I had the rest of this year planned too, so… hopefully this won’t be too difficult for you.”

You allow yourself to drop your act of not quite caring for your coworkers and squeeze the woman’s elbow gently. You don’t miss the way she flinches- it would be hard to. You immediately know why she’s leaving with such urgency.

“Don’t worry about me,” you tell her softly. “Just… keep yourself safe, yeah?”

“I’m gonna do my best,” Sophie grimaces. “If we meet during our preps the rest of this week, I can help you prepare.”

You nod. “And- and if you need any help with anything, I know we aren’t close, but… I’m here for you.”

As you transition into teaching the entire school for art classes, Sophia helps you as much as possible. You begin to combine classes, and you’re quite thankful that every teacher is a fan of your coworker’s, because they don’t ask questions about her leaving, and they are more than supportive of this decision. Although, those that don’t usually make it to the second floor aren’t necessarily thrilled about the trek they have to take to come up to your room. They just give your coworker a sad smile as they know it will probably be one of the last times they see her before she heads out and on her own. You continue to offer your support to Sophia as the days stretch on.

But she never asks for help. Instead, she whole-heartedly throws herself into helping to prepare you the best she can- everything from lugging materials up to your room to ensuring that what you’re having the older students do at least somewhat lines up with what she was planning for her younger students to make life even the slightest bit easier on you. 

And after Friday, it’s like she never existed. She completely goes off the grid. You can only hope that she’s alright in her endeavors.

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve taken over the arts for your school. You feel like you’re up to your eyeballs in clay, paint, paper mache, and pretty much any other art supply that would be able to stick to your body. You’re exhausted, to say the least. The days where your preps used to consist of cleaning up your room and settling in with a nice book are gone, and they’ve been replaced with a preparation period of running around trying to set everything up while also grading the elders’ art essays, firing up the kiln, scrubbing down tables from glue that the kindergarten and first grade students managed to get everywhere… it’s ridiculous. While you used to leave right as the teachers’ bell rang, you’re stuck staying late, and you usually come in at least an hour early to ensure that everything is as organized as it can be before your hurricanes you call students run amuck in your space. And if you’re being honest, you’ve had enough. 

So, while you should probably be preparing for the next… what feels like ever, you take your preparation period to head down to the teachers lounge and actually relax for once. You already worked through your lunch- you deserve this. 

As it would turn out, your preparation time is when the group that your boss loves has lunch. How convenient for them to all have lunch at the same time…

You give them a small wave as you practically drag your exhausted body over to the refrigerator to grab the small lunch you packed yourself this morning. You take a seat that’s somewhat distanced from the group and begin to eat.

You don’t even realize how tired you are until your eyes begin to droop and your head begins to lull forward. You have to catch yourself with a small gasp before you smack you face on the table. Of course, that draws attention to you, and your face turns about as red as Melissa Schemmenti’s hair.

“Oi,” the woman lets out a small chuckle. “Work wearing you down lately?”

You just nod as you continue to feed yourself from the tiny bag of pretzels you packed.

“Of course she’s exhausted,” another voice pipes up- Barbara Howard’s. “Who wouldn’t be exhausted after taking over art classes for the entire school. Oh dear, have you heard from Sophia at all?”

You shake your head silently before just barely offering up, “And I doubt I will. She left pretty abruptly, and from what I could tell, her situation was pretty serious.”

“Well, we do thank you for helping our classes,” Barb tells you with a sad smile. “As much as we hated to see Miss Lee go, our students are still going to get a fine arts education because of you.”

“I’m doing my best,” you sigh quietly as you finish off the rest of your pretzels. You nod to yourself as you close your bag and take another deep breath. You go to stand from your place at the table, but you find yourself seeing a few black spots in your vision. You force yourself to sit down again.

“You alright there?” Melissa asks, clearly at least a little concerned.

You nod. “Just a little tired is all.”

The green eyes that you still haven’t gotten quite right in your sketches stare into your soul for a split second. “Is that all you had to eat today?”

You shrug. “Don’t have much around the house.”

“No wonder you’re on the verge of passing out,” she rolls her eyes. Before you know it, she has a plate in front of you and is spooning some of her meal out onto it for you.

“This is yours,” you say quietly, in protest.

She dares you to challenge her as she continues to ration out her food. “And I also don’t need you passing out today… my kids have art later.”

You look to her, as if to see if she’s testing you or something. She just looks to the food pointedly and then back to you.

With a sigh, you thank her and begin to eat. “You didn’t have to,” you tell her softly.

The redhead shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. I blame it on my being Italian.”

The rest of your lunch is spent trying to subtly stare at Melissa Schemmenti’s eyes in order to perfectly capture how to draw them in your sketchbook.

When you’re finished, you sigh softly and thank her again before heading for the door.

“You should start having lunch with us if you can,” Janine tells you. “If we’re going to be working with you now, we should probably get to know you, right?”

You bite your lip nervously, thinking. Doing that would give you the perfect opportunity to observe the second grade teacher. You would probably be able to capture not only her eyes then, but different looks of hers, aside from just a standard sort of portrait. You nod. “Y-yeah. If I can fit it into my schedule, I’ll try to start coming down.”

When the redhead brings her class up to your room, she has a mug of coffee in hand too. Silently, you wish that you had a cup of coffee for yourself. The proper meal that you had helped to bring your energy up a bit, but the coffee would certainly be a nice pick me up. Maybe you can convince her to bring you one for when she picks up her-

The mug is being offered to you with the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen out of the tough teacher. “Thought you might like the pick-me-up.”

You tilt your head to the side, touched by this small but sweet gesture. “Thank you.” You take the mug gratefully, allowing the warmth of the steaming liquid to warm your cool to the touch hands.

Green eyes are rolled with a hint of a smirk dancing on her lips. 

Your days go by much nicer when you’re able to join that little crew for meals. They’re actually a lot nicer than you expected them to be. Melissa continues to bring you food, claiming that you’re actually helping her by eating some of the portions because she only knows how to cook for twelve. And when you aren’t able to make it down to the staff lounge, preoccupied with prepping new units for your classes, the second grade teacher makes her way up to you and sits with you while you continue to flit around the room and try to get everything in order. She continues to bring you cups of coffee on days where her class has art, and when her friends have art too, they usually come up with a mug and a soft, “from Melissa.”

As time goes on, you begin to show your less professional side- the side that your friends see. The Abbott crew begins to welcome it warmly, seeing that you aren’t as stuffy as you play. And in doing that, your boss begins to take more of a liking to you as well. It makes working at this school much easier. The only thing that is becoming more and more difficult as you integrate yourself into this school is the growing infatuation you have with a certain redheaded second grade teacher. She shamelessly flirts with you now, and you find yourself reciprocating quite often.

Since growing closer to the quirky little group, you have doodles of almost all of them down to a science. But there’s still one person who you can’t get quite right. Melissa Schemmenti. And for the amount of time you spend watching her and smiling with her, she should’ve been the first person you drew at the school to perfect. But you just aren’t satisfied. Or maybe you don’t want to be satisfied, because then that means you don’t really have a reason to sketch her anymore.

You’re sitting at one of the tables in the library while Ava drones on about God knows what. Your sketchbook sits in your lap as you continue to try to get her look just right- the way her eyes sparkle and her glasses sit on the tip of her nose as she clearly doesn’t pay attention to what your boss is going on about.

There’s something about this drawing that has you thinking you might just get it right this time. And because you have that feeling, you start to focus so intensely on your art that you don’t notice the meeting going on around you ends. In fact, you’re only made aware of the ending of the meeting when you feel a familiar hand on your shoulder.

“Wow,” is all she breathes softly as she looks at what you’re working on. “Is that… is that me?”

Instinctively, you try to slam your sketchbook shut. You can’t believe you got so into the zone that you didn’t realize the faculty meeting was over, and you really can’t believe you were just caught in the act of sketching your coworker.

“No,” Melissa says. “Open it back up. I want to see.”

You shake your head and try to stand.

“C’mon, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” the redhead tells you.

You just shake your head again as you head out of the library, refusing to make eye contact with her. You practically sprint up to your classroom and shut the door behind you. Your cheeks burn, and your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

Your coworker doesn’t try to approach you right after the meeting. Instead, she waits until her lunch period. You don’t come down, just as she predicted. So she brings you up the portion that she brought for you. As she expected, you don’t turn when she enters your room, instead focusing all of your attention on the papers in front of you and trying to grade essays.

“You ain’t coming down?” her gravelly voice asks you.

You just wave your hand as you continue to bite at the tip of your pen. “Gotta grade,” you tell her from the little corner of your room that has a bean bag.

Green eyes glance over at your desk, and right there is your sketchbook on your desk.

“I’ll just set your stuff over on your desk then,” she says slowly as she toys with the idea of peeking at it.

You just nod along, entirely forgetting that your book is sitting there and open to the page that you were working on during the meeting this morning.

You hear her heels clicking against the tile to your desk, but you don’t hear them walking away. Only then do you look up and see that she’s once again looking at your sketchbook. And then you watch her flip a page, and you’re mortified.

The previous page is quite literally just you trying to get her eyes right- something that you finally achieved last night.

“Hun, this is-“ she’s going to say incredible, but you all but tackle her to get your book back.

“Please stop looking at my things,” you say sharply as you grab the book from her clutch.

“Have you been drawing me during faculty meetings?” she asks you as she takes the book back into her hands. At this point, she’s holding it just out of your reach, and you know she’s already seen your work, so it’s futile to try to hide the sketchpad from her.

“I’ve been sketching a lot of things lately,” you sigh as she flips through.

Her eyes gaze over the still life of the library, of your classroom, of the portraits of your coworkers, but she looks at you with a furrowed brow.

“A lot of these are of me,” she notes quietly.

You worry your bottom lip through your teeth. “I’ve been trying to get your eyes right,” you manage. “They’re a bit more complicated than the others- brown eyes, green eyes, you know?”

The redhead continues to scan your sketchbook. There’s doodle after doodle.

“You’re real good,” she whispers as she allows her fingers to gently trace the pencil marks in your book. “Like… you shouldn’t be an art teacher, but an actual artist good.”

You blush. “I ain’t that good.”

“You are,” she promises you, and her green eyes look into your own. “But if you need help getting my eyes right, you can always just ask.” She looks up at you through those long lashes, and then her eyes flit down to your lips.

“M-maybe,” you whisper, your own eyes glancing down at hers, as you lick your lip subconsciously.

“I’m honored you would try this hard to get my eyes right,” the second grade teacher says softly as she moves just the slightest bit closer. 

You give her a nervous smile. “A beautiful thing deserves to be captured just right.”

“I’d say you captured my eyes nicely,” Melissa mumbles as she allows her hand to cup your cheek.

“Oh?” you raise a brow. “Can I try to capture something else of yours?”

“And what would that be?” You can practically feel Melissa’s breath on your lips.

As you give into your desire to kiss her, you mutter, “Your heart.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie

[cupsy-daisy]

Woagh! 2 posts in 1 day! (Saying this like it’s not uncommon) but have my tma sona!!! These drawings are a month or 2 old but i’m finally posting them!!

This is just my sona from season 1-3 the progression of it n stuff, there were some sketches of 4 and 5 but i never finished them, idk if i will! But idk! We’ll see!

I’m wanna ramble a bit about my sona so if you wanna read it’s under the cut! Grahh

Got the idea from bestie @catattack08 to make it so i got hired at first for redesigning the institute logo, Because i’m a freelance artist, but then i started working on organizing physical files n caseloads on the shelves n stuff.

Hired me (mostly) because i had severe connections to a lot of entities, i had been touched by several throughout my lifetime :p

Nothing major happened to me through season 1 and 2 besides being kinda wary about john and probably agreeing that he murdered leitner in season 3.

So like- my sona story is involved with my friends a lot- and my friend was leaning towards john being innocent so managed to keep contact with him and we both went to georgies house to deliver some books, and i came with them to make sure they didn’t get murdered cuz i was still under the impression he murdered that guy.

John went out for a smoke, got kidnapped, i stepped outside to “have a word” with him abt what really went on and breekon and hope saw me, said “no witnesses” and dragged me along too, i have some drawings of that if anyones interested aaghh

When we were both together we had some time to connect and understand eachother (or as best we could) i was kept for the sake of extra skin in case john didn’t “fit” but anywayss- we bonded a lot and this is probably where i would’ve (in super canon) died, nikola kinda using me as a decoration for the ritual.

BUT i dont think abt that cuz i wanna see what happens if i live, so instead, micheal almost leaves me for dead until helen comes along and letting john and me pass through her door, we both make it back and i gain a lot more mutual respect and understanding for him, we’re both decently good friends now, then everything kinda moves forward from then on.

Until peter comes in, this is already getting long enough but long story short, i was used as a practice dummy for the lonely kinda, and i couldn’t kill em, so i got sent to super hell where martin found me. Talked me out of it, withhh the poowerrr of friendshipppp/j

Thennn i either go back home to @catattack08 orrr i stay and they come, and those have 2 different routes but grahhh idk if i should put it here, feel free to ask!

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - thirty-one | JUPiTER

You walked into the studio to the cacophonous sound of multiple keys on the keyboard being held down. You looked over at the keyboard to find Hongjoong, face down on the keys.

You laughed softly; he probably fell asleep there last night and didn’t even hear the noise. This poor guy was going to make himself deaf before thirty if he kept doing this kind of thing.

With a chuckle, you walked over to the keyboard and switched it off.

“Why’d you do that?”

“AHH!”

Hongjoong looked up at you, the lines of the keys indented on his face.

“What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you fell asleep like last time.”

“Oh…” he touched his face and then ruffled his hair in frustration. “I was just thinking.”

“Having emos?” You chuckled.

“Yeah, having emos.” He turned the keyboard back on.

Now that your heart rate had lowered to a number under 180 bpm, you could put your stuff down on the table. “What about?”

“This song I’m working on for my own recordings.”

“Are you also a soloist?”

He nodded as he pressed a few keys idly. “I release under another name though.”

“Really? Why?”

He shrugged. “I’d rather people look at my solo work without being biased by my producing work.”

“Makes sense. You are one of the most famous producers in the business.”

He nodded tiredly. “Anyway, JUPiTER is coming in today so I think I need to give up for now.”

Your eyebrows ticked up. 

JUPiTER was Wonderland Entertainment’s most popular boy band. While their main concept was astronomy and Greek mythology, each of their comebacks had a different vibes, from cool, to cute, to sexy, they pulled them all off well. As expected of a group managed by Wonderland.

“Wow, really?”

“Mhm. we had finished their album right before we hired you. I think they had some questions for their performances.”

“Umm, what should I be doing?”

“You should just observe today.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

You took your notebook and a pen out of your bag so you could make notes if you needed to. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Hongjoong watch you for a moment before going back to idly pressing the keyboard keys.

A few minutes later, Maddox came in with JUPiTER behind him.

“Yes I be the cat and, yes I do the dragging.” He sang as he walked in, followed by his temporary entourage.

You looked up and bowed as they came into the room.

Hongjoong stood as well. “This is our new bassist and producer in training, t/l/n t/f/n.”

The group of boys took turns shaking your hand as they introduced themselves: the leader, Dal; the “mom”, Max; the unofficial maknae, Keeho; the fashionista, Jiung; and the actual maknae, Jongseob. You had seen them all on stage and in pictures before but - even though they were wearing casual clothes - they were all gorgeous in real life. Who could possibly think the visual arts were still needed when there were people this pretty on planet earth?

“It’s nice to meet you all.” You said.

They all nodded and responded with the same sentiment to varying degrees.

“So what are you doing here today?” Dal asked.

“She’s here to observe the recording process,” Hongjoong answered.

“But we’re done,” Keeho pointed out.

Hongjoong nodded. “And answering the questions of the artists is also part of the process. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in the studio today, would you?” He smiled.

They all nodded. He was right. 

He gestured to the chairs at the table. “Please, sit.”

Maddox joined you on one side and Keeho sat on the other side.

A few hours of discussion went by as mostly Dal and Max asked questions having to do with technical aspects, and asked for notes Hongjoong might have for the sound guys on the music shows.

You paid attention and took copious notes; if Hongjoong was really serious about training you as a producer, you wanted to show him that you were serious too.

When the conversation slowed and it seemed like the meeting was about to adjourn, Keeho turned to you.

“So how long have you been working here? You’re new right?”

You nodded. “I’ve been here… a few weeks already?

He nodded. “That’s cool. You’ll be around for our comeback-- Dal?”

Dal looked up. “Yeah?”

“When’s this comeback again?”

You opened your phone and went to the recording calendar, it had the comebacks on it. You checked the upcoming week. It was in three days.

“Umm… You know, it’s soon but I forgot the date again. I’ll check when we get back to the dorms. It’s not this week, I know that.”

“Okay.”

Your brow furrowed, could he have forgotten his own group’s comeback date? That’s weird.

You opened your mouth to help him, when you felt something hit your foot. Looking down, Maddox’s foot was now against yours. You looked up at him, confused, and he shook his head slightly. You looked to Hongjoong and he did the same.

You closed your phone and put it in your pocket.

After a few more minutes of questions and notes, the members, you, Hongjoong, and Maddox all said goodbye to each other and the members left. Maddox and Hongjoong went to their chairs at the desk and you sat at the table and got ready to do some transcribing.

“So um… is there a reason why Dal forgot his own group’s comeback date?”

Hongjoong and Maddox both laughed.

“What?”

“Dal knows it,” Hongjoong started, “he’s a really good leader who’s on top of everything. It’s just that Keeho…” He looked for the right words and looked to Maddox for help.

“Keeho is a streamer,” Maddox said, “and has spoiled every single comeback in some way since they debuted, so eventually the rest of the group decided that they had to lie to him if they didn’t want to continue getting yelled at by their managers for spoiling their comeback dates.”

You laughed. The idea was absurd. “On-- he’s spoiled them on purpose or by accident?”

“By accident. Every single one.”

“Wow,” you laughed. “Okay.”

They both nodded.

“That’s kind of ridiculous that they had to resort to lying to him about it.

“It really is.” Maddox laughed.

“Honestly, they’re doing it for his own good.” Hongjoong added.

“Does he know they’re lying?”

“At this point? I’m not even sure.”

You shook your head with a laugh and got to work transcribing.

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luvvvx • iamthehotdemon • hrts4hanniehae • rachs-words •

[youranemicvampire]

Thoughts and opinions on The Little Mermaid (2023) with SPOILERS.

First of all, i'm so happy to be able to watch it. I've been waiting for it since 2019. And the casting announcement was the reason i became a fan of Chloe x Halle

The casting is perfect! I'm really a sucker for a good casting so....

Halle Bailey is everything Ariel. TBH, it feels like she's not acting that hard coz her expressions and voice are naturally Ariel. She's born to be a Disney princess. I could not imagine another person playing this role. From her face, features, physique, height and voice. She's a whole package.

Jonah Hauer-King is indeed charming. When his casting got announced, i never doubted him coz from his looks, he also has this Disney and Princely face. And i even like his version of Prince Eric better than the animated one.

Melissa McCarthy is great. She is actually terrifying lol but my complaint is that her make-up is lacking and then i found out that a straight person made it. I don't see the Drag in her face. It should have been better. Way better. They should have hired a queer make-up artist or someone in the Drag scene.

I know we all hate Awkwafina, but she actually has this annoying bird voice that is right for the role.

It's my first time to see Jessica Alexander act and whew! I think i might have a new crush. And she's bisexual??? I stan!

I don't have that much say for the other casts, but they are all great and visually amazing.

I expected a lot of changes, but i think it's good that they only changed the things that are necessary. It felt more genuine.

It's not that dark! It was just the right level of darkness for the scenes that are meant to be dark. The day scenes are actually colorful.

I saw a take about the sea creatures not being animated and expressive enough, but i think it's more of the CGI limitations, not the movie itself.

Having said that, Flounder could've been better. Still cute tho.

Halle and Jonah's chemistry is amazing. I'm a hetero-hater, but i was gushing in the theatre. Ariel and Eric are the best Disney live-action couple 💯 And Jalle's friendship offscreen is cute and wholesome.

I'm also a big musical fan so this live-action is special to me because they actually casted a singer and not just a basic one. What i hated about other Disney live-actions is the autotune. It's so annoying.

One of the minor issues i have is that i wished they didn't release too many stills and clips. I was kinda pissed on the "Under the sea" part coz i already saw the majority of it on social media. I wanted to be surprised because that scene was so fun and magical.

They should definitely have a sequel, a prequel, and a mermaid sisters spin-off. It would be a waste to only see them once especially Halle and Jonah's chemistry. The sisters are also too beautiful not to have their own stories coz from how they look, they have really different identities.

People complain too much on animal designs, but ignore the mermaid tails of Ariel and her sisters.

I'm also proud of Halle's acting coz i watched her on Grown.ish and her acting skills and confidence really improved by miles. Even when she lost her voice, she was very expressive. She didn't even have to try that much.

For me, this is the 2nd best Disney live-action so far. My first is still Maleficent.

Idk if I still need to say this, but the soundtrack is on-repeat after I watched. I actually want to rewatch the whole thing with subs coz i can't understand the British accent. lol

Halle Bailey needs to be in more musicals. I just can't get enough. Jessica Alexander should also be in more villain roles. Sapphic villain specifically 🥵

I also liked how Ariel and Prince Eric were longing for each other's world you know. It's a story about freedom really, not wanting to be boxed, and wanting to explore no matter how dangerous it is. It's such a queer allegory. And it's special knowing the original version of Hans Christian Andersen.

[queenofcats17]

I've been thinking about how I want to handle BATDR in my AU and this is what I've come up with.

So, after Henry frees everyone from the studio, GENT probably comes in and repossesses the machine, much to Tom and Joey's collective horror. They both try to argue that it should be destroyed, but GENT refuses to listen.

Tom and Joey end up meeting up quite a bit to try and figure out some contingency plans and what to do if the machine gets turned on. They actually start to become somewhat good friends during these meetings. Joey begins to really respect Tom and his knowledge and Tom admires how dedicated Joey is to trying to be better.

And then Nathan buys the machine and some other assets from the old studio.

Both Joey and Tom are nervous about this, but Joey's still in a bit of a self-deprecating slump, so he thinks his legacy would be better off in the hands of someone else. Not to mention, both Joey and Tom are pretty paranoid about what might happen if anyone finds out just what the Ink Machine is truly capable of.

Unfortunately, GENT has already figured out some of the machine's capabilities, having gathered data from the remains of the studio and the ink left behind once everyone was freed. And worst of all... Wilson has caught wind that something strange is going on with his father's old friend and the fact that he doesn't seem to have aged in the 20 years he's been gone.

So, Wilson goes and starts messing with the machine.

And Joey feels the first time it gets turned on. Fusing himself with the Ink Demon for 20 years gave him a connection to the machine and the ink that none of the other survivors have. So, he calls Tom in a panic and the two of them head over to the Arch Gate building. But, of course, they aren't let in. And by the time Joey manages to get Nathan over to let them in, the machine's been shut off and Wilson's cleared out.

This repeats a few times more times as Wilson goes back and forth, building up an empire in the studio world. After the first two or three times, it becomes clear that they can't keep rushing over every time Joey feels the machine turn on. So, they elect to just observe for now, with Joey telling Tom when he feels the machine be turned on so Tom can note it down.

In this case, I think an imprint of the studio would have been left in the ink. None of the people who were trapped there for those 20 years are there anymore, but imprints of them remain, captured in the ink. So, there's a twisted Alice Susie, a more perfect Alice Allison, a Tom Boris, a deranged Prophet Sammy, et cetera. So, it's a pocket dimension like the base game, but also a recreation of the real place.

And while Wilson is messing with the studio, Joey is having dreams about what's going on. But they're pretty vague, just sort of thoughts and feelings coming through from the Ink Demon.

I think by the point Wilson starts messing with the machine, Audrey's been working at Arch Gate for a while. Nathan probably hired her as a favor to Esther and Joey, wanting to give his friend's daughter an opportunity. Not that he goes around saying that, of course. And although Audrey is probably using the name Klein, Wilson knows she's Joey's daughter.

And, like, all the other times, Joey feels when the Ink Machine is turned on when Wilson drags Audrey in. But he also feels Audrey go in. Which leads to another panicked call to Tom to alert him. But Joey ends up going to the Arch Gate building on his own. He can't wait for Tom. He needs to go in there.

So, Joey ends up in the pocket dimension to try and rescue his daughter, forced to confront his mistakes once more.

I think he and Audrey do meet up pretty soon after she goes in. Maybe when she's getting ready to head to Artist's Rest. And, Joey had told her about the things he'd done after he was freed. But being told and actually seeing the devastation is another thing entirely.

I think the Ink Demon and Baby Benders would be especially hostile toward Joey because he perceives Joey as having abandoned him. The Ink Demon didn't get to be freed with the humans. He returned to the Ink. So he didn't understand why Joey had left and why he'd had to go through the pain of Wilson's experiments alone. A part of the Ink Demon also probably both resents and sympathizes with Audrey. Because, on one hand, he feels like Audrey is the child Joey chose. But on the other hand, he knows Joey abandoned Audrey too. So, the Ink Demon has some complicated feelings.

There also probably wouldn't be a cell for Henry in this, or a Henry at all, because it's not a timeloop. But Joey would probably get thrown into a cell when the Keepers catch Audrey and take her to Wilson. Which would mean he'd be the one going through The Cage plotline that's coming up.

I'm not entirely sure how things would end, but I think Joey and Audrey would try to work with Tom to figure out a way to help the memories left behind in the ink. Especially the Ink Demon, whose mind Joey knows he poisoned.

There would also probably be a very interesting conversation with Nathan about how his son is dead.

[scribblyshipping]

(Critter) Scribbly lore rambles bc I can’t sleep:

Scribbly meets Charlie and Pim through the smiling friends- she calls them. She wasn’t even sure the company was real.

She’s in a place similar to how Desmond was. Except she’s just not as… outward… as she was with it.

She explains that she was recently cut off from help from her parents (not much details are shared) and has been paying for everything from her savings account as well as trying to finish college while feeling lost on what she wants to do in life and with herself overall.

Needless to say the two critters helping her are stumped. With every positive thing they try to suggest, push her life towards, she doesn’t take to it- talking about all the things that can go wrong with it.

“I like drawing, I guess…” “then you should become an artist! They make money offa that, right?” “I’ve been trying since I was 16 this shit is not gonna work out.”

It’s so bad that by the end of the day, they can’t make Scribbly smile. They take her to the establishment so she can fill out some paperwork saying they couldn’t help her.

While Charlie is finding the papers, she ends up meeting Allan and Glep. They have pleasant conversation, and as Pim watches, he gets an idea.

“Scribbly- you said you were looking for a job, right? Why not work here?”

She’s reluctant at first- the only reason she made it here was because she was a failure, and he thinks she has a chance at being hired?

Allan and Glep talk about how there’s more than just ‘field work’ to do and she could become an intern or simply run errands.

She starts nodding along, growing to like the idea of it. Pim drags her into The Boss’ office for an impromptu meeting/interview and she’s hired. Turns out he’s really chill.

As Pim and Scribbly walk out of the office and explain the good news to the others- she finally smiles, and that little jingle plays and everything.

Seconds later Charlie walks back into the room holding the paperwork.

“Are you fuckin serious, you just wasted like five minutes of my time dude. I am not putting these back where they belong.”

Credits yaayy

WOW this turned into an Episode Idea Post. I think I’ll do a separate one for little details and fun facts

[kpoptarotvibes]

Jungkook's posts were messy and I think while his heart was in the right place, he went about it terribly. He's been in the military on a really strict base for months and friday/saturday was most likely the start of chuseok holiday break (which is why other bts members who are enlisted also posted or were out and about). I think he probably got out, saw the youtube video the girls had made and felt the need to speak up. With all love for jungkook, it reminded me of a middle schooler making a post about #kony2012 on facebook after watching one video about the matter. I feel bad for the other groups who were affected too, but my guess is that he wasn't fully educated/updated/aware of all the fallout surrounding the situation. Tbh, if he was, he would have realized how useless his post was since the artists he's saying shouldn't be used, are the same ones choosing to force themselves into the legal/corporate matter. They WANT to be tied to MHJ, they literally include her in all their demands and in their sns posts.

As for MHJ, yes she's absolutely a bad guy. Hybe is a corporation, so treat them accordingly (i.e. fuck companies because they're just out for profit), but MHJ is a whole other monster. A former ador employee is suing her because they tried to come forward about sexual harassment and she just disparaged them and called them a liar. Real messages were leaked (she admitted they were real) of her body shaming and shitting on the NJ's girls. She has a pattern of sexualizing minors and using themes of p*dophilia in groups concepts she has worked with. Based on this recent mess, there is concerns about if she groomed the NJ girls based on reports about how intertwined she was with them and their families since they were minors. And this is all on top of her trying to overthrow hybe and dragging hybe groups into the mess to get hate. She's overall a terrible human being.

Honestly I don't even know what we are debating about because. Both sides Hybe and MHJ are bad. They are both playing dirty and petty with each other. And New Jeans are in the middle of them. I feel two things can be true at the same time MHJ could have been protecting those girls for her own gain and intentions.

Meanwhile Hybe should have never hired her in the first place. She been a problem since Cookie song and everyone in Hybe brushed it off. Also if Hybe was really standing on business with her they could have beaten her in court on workplace data and complaints alone. But no you take her personal texts to court. So to me no side is good in the end of all this.

Because honestly fact of the matter is there are games being played back and forth between the higher ups. And who suffers at the end of the games. It trickles down to the people who work for them. The artist, management, etc.

[pendinghope]

A list of shows where I question my decision for watching them. They’re not bad just got some concerning plot lines. If you enjoy them good for you, if not that’s cool too. I’ll just write what they’re about and you can decide for yourself.

Paint with love. The concept seemed interesting. A company president obsessed with profit needs to hire an artist for a job. Due to unforeseen circumstances they’re now stuck together in business. And then… the plot worsens. Interesting start but then the subplots and misunderstandings kinda drag the story down. There are some side couples in the show as well. There’s this one subplot that just… once it’s revealed you’ll be like oh… ohhhhhhh.. oh no… why?! Just why?! And then once one of the characters knows about it they still misunderstand?! Why!?! What’s the point? At the most dramatic part of this plot it does get resolved within an episode and a half. And then it comes back? After being resolved? Leading to my confusion and concern. And then one of the characters just acts super rude to this other character for no apparent reason. Leading to more unnecessary drama. The main romance also starts to feel off balance after a while. As one of the characters always apologizes but the other character never does. Which feels bad, like the other character gets a free pass for his actions. I don’t know how to feel about this show. The subplots are just getting ridiculous as well as the drama. We finally reach a good understanding and boom unnecessary conflict… I am still going to try to finish it and hold onto hope that it gets better.

My stand-in. Super toxic romance. Toxic workplace, mistreatment, etc. A lovely main character gets dealt a bad hand in life and love the first go around only to find himself in another body... with perhaps an even worse hand in life. The main character is nice and kind and has a handful of wonderful people surrounding him. But the more powerful ones are far more impactful, dangerous, and toxic. Poor guy. If you want the main character to be happy, good luck. It's gonna take him a while.

Love syndrome. I have no idea what this one's about. Stumbled upon an episode and was highly confused/concerned. From what I saw, super toxic and concerning behavior. However there does seem to be multiple seasons or parts of this show and I only saw one of them out of order. So who knows. Update: there’s a lot of different versions of this show. What I saw was called love syndrome the beginning, so my view of the show is from that specific episode. The other versions could be very different, I have no idea. I looked through it and realized I recognized some of the actors so imma try to see what it’s about. Uhh never mind. Reading up on it I don’t think this show is for me. Enjoy if you want, imma check out.

Update: I’ve started watching love syndrome 3. It’s been months since I wrote this and now I feel like trying it out. It is insanely toxic but it’s what I feel like watching right now so I am. Until I can handle the next episode of peaceful property at least. Have a wonderful day! (My thoughts while watching this show “Oh they’re adorable!… oh they’re toxic as hell! Oh look they’re adorable again!”) Not me just now realizing that not only do Unforgotten Night and Love Syndrome take place in the same universe, the main characters actively interact. Sometimes I just don’t notice things until a while later into a series.

Dance with the devils. A vampire anime... yes one of those vampire animes. However, it's a musical. So it's really enjoyable to watch in the sense of laughing at its goofiness and staring in horror at its... other scenes. Also the bestie should have totally gotten with the mc.

Ah that’s all I have time to ramble about at the moment. More to come later so have a wonderful day/night!

[buchdrache]

Review: Mitternacht by Christoph Marzi

Christoph Marzi was one of my favourite authors in my youth. In recent years, however, I have had to realise that his Uralte Metropolen has unfortunately not aged well. But what about his newer works? So I grabbed Mitternacht and headed to London once again.

Nicholas lives a typical student life: Making ends meet somehow, sometimes this, sometimes that low-paid student job and generally taking a relaxed view of life. He is all the more thrown off course when he suddenly finds himself in an alternative London and then also has to learn that the ghosts of the dead linger in this London until no one in the world of the living remembers them and they fade away. Someone in hiding, however, is trying to influence the world of the living from the realm of the dead, and Nicholas, with his ability to shift between worlds, may be the only one who can turn events around for the better.

Christoph Marzi likes London as a setting and he likes a magical setting, that should be well known by now. And a nebulous London in which the dead of various times linger is pretty cool.

In this London, there are so-called Whisperers, who are ghosts hired by other ghosts to enter the stories of the deceased in their sleep from an in-between world of artists, so that their stories are not forgotten and thus the ghosts can continue to exist. The inspiration to tell certain stories does not (always) come from the authors themselves, but can sometimes be given to them.

So far, so good. I actually didn't think this was a bad idea at all and enjoyed reading about it. I am more at war with the technical aspects of the narrative. What bothered me right at the beginning was an unnecessary hetero drama when Nicholas catches his girlfriend Erica cheating and breaks up with her. Erica adds nothing to the actual plot and could have been dropped without replacement. As it was, it was just annoying and exhaustingly heteronormative.

The narrative style, too, what once fascinated me so much about Marzi, struck me as rather tiring here. I don't know if my reading habits have changed so much over the years, or if Marzi is simply weakening. But I just found it exhausting how characters sometimes repeat things several times and only reveal information in very small steps (after all, Nicholas also finds this annoying at one point, so it was probably intentional, at least in parts, for Chesterton to have everything pulled out of his nose). In general, I think the story could have been told in far fewer words, some of it drags on for a long time and takes time to get to the point.

And then there is the end of the novel. It's just a big, disappointing nothing. Marzi tells us in the epilogue how it came about: He had a severe stroke while writing, which left him paralysed on one side. This made it immensely difficult for him to write and I can absolutely understand if he then doesn't want to type tens of thousands of words when he can only manage it with great effort. Unfortunately, the novel was not yet finished at that point, and accordingly Marzi could only sketch out the ending so that the novel would come to any kind of conclusion at all. However, "any kind of conclusion" is accurate, since the last chapters are really little more than a few short sentences each, roughly telling what should have happened in these chapters. In other words, a very disappointing ending, but in this case there were simply higher powers at work, so it is actually quite remarkable that Marzi finished the novel anyway. I wish him all the best!

Those who like ghost stories can definitely give the novel a chance. For me, the narrative remained too bloated and long-winded in places (despite the fact that I read through the novel in one day) and the characters didn't leave a lasting impression either.

Potential triggers:

- Death (off page, topic)

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Series information

Author: Christoph Marzi

Title: Mitternacht

Language: German

Series: No

Pages: 314

Original price: 15,00€

Publisher: Piper

Genre: Fantasy

ISBN: 978-3-492-28090-7

Year of publication: 2019

[the-possum-writes]

How about Marshall Lee (Adventure time) with a s/o who also sings and plays the piano? In headcanons please, and perhaps a small scenario if u want ^^ /nf!!

Marshall with a Pianist!Reader

❥Tags: Gen neutral reader, headcanons

❥ Marshall is a solo artist first and foremost, sure he hires the occasional backup guitarists and drummers but they're usually a temporary addition to his on going indie gigs.

❥ He first knew of you when you were playing the piano as background music for a local establishment.

❥Your melodies were the perfect blend between haunting and beautiful, dragging him overboard like a deranged sailor captivated by a siren's call.

❥But he didn't immediately fall head over heels overnight like a school boy, oh no, with a talent like yours he can only think of one thing. "Looks like I have new competition." the vampire smirks.

❥You two wouldn't meet again until a music festival came along the way.

❥ His audience is like a pack of hungry wolves, and he's more than happy to feed them with his sick beats, watching them unravel at his feet on stage with every tug of a string and hardcore vocals. By the end of his song his dark locks are sticking to his forehead with sweat as the crowd cheers on. "Thank you Cube kingdom, I'll be here all night!" Marshall recklessly drops the mic even though the equipment team told him to stop doing that multiple times.

❥ He walks past you backstage, holding a towel to his shoulders. "Looks like you're up pianist, you better not bore them to death." his words aren't fully malicious, taunting in nature? Most likely but it was also challenging. How will you quelch the thirst of an audience after the vampire king rattled them up like that? That's what Marshall was eager to find out.

❥ If he thought he was already captivated then watching you perform live fully cements it, the audience was absolutely enthralled as well. And for good reason. Unlike Marshall's alternative rock that solely consists of him and his guitar, your singing combined with the back up instrumentals enhances the whole experience, just when he thought it couldn't get any better you have a bewitching solo with your instrument of choice breaking into something that sounds like it was composed by a madman.

❥ If Marshall was left sweaty after his performance you were chugging down water bottles like it was a contest.

❥ "Not bad pianist." Despite the one sided rivalry, you didn't have any ill intention towards the vampire King. Eagerly shaking his hand while spewing nothing but compliments after witnessing him beforehand.

❥ "You weren't so bad yourself. I loved those cord arrangements in the final act, it really tied the whole song together!"

"Thanks, the rhythm was inspired from a leak in my bathroom."

"Fascinating, I'd like to hear more about your creative progress."

"How about a drink after the concert ends?"

❥ The next time he has a song in mind and needs extra vocals you are the first person he calls to. "You want me to perform a song with you??" Marshall rubs the nape of his neck. "Yeah, if you're not busy I mean-" you immediately interrupt him.

"I'D LOVE TO!" you cough. "I mean, nope I'm not busy at all."

❥ But you two don't just start sharing the stage in front of a wide audience, sometimes when the spotlights become one too many, you invite him over to hang out and brainstorm ideas. That's where he learns how versatile you are with different song genres on the piano.

❥Riling up a crowd is fun and all, but vibing to sea shanties with you also seems to make him inexplicably happy. Marshall: "Going solo all the time is getting boring anyway."

❥ It's like a match made in heaven (or should I say the Nightosphere?) when the two of you are on stage, your vocals compliment Marshall's guitar riffs like peanut butter on jelly. It's rare to have Marshall sing to your music notes but it's usually something reserved behind closed doors, when he allows to unravel himself in your presence and make sweet, sweet music together.

[latenightdecaf]

No Signal [1/3]

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship, fluff, angst, idol!yoongi

summary: you're dating Min Yoongi, member of bts and he.. well the busy man that he is forgot about you for two days.

one out of two three shots!

warnings: alcohol consumption?

word count: 4,599

a/n: i know, i know. i should be updating the other one and not starting another story again but I saw this airport photo of yoongi on instagram wearing that blue bape beanie and gray hoodie. and well it screams, boyfriend!yoongi to me. so i went ahead and got a little carried away. thank you for reading my short (?) daydream heheh

“I…” backing off, you slowly stepped backwards, heart beating fast and eyes blinking in panic. You didn’t calculated this when you punched in the code to his studio. All you thought was he might just be happy to see you because you would.

Yoongi immediately stood up from his seat, in the middle of his conversation with the girl producer he works with. “What are you doing here?” He said in an unfamiliarly cold tone, something you haven’t really heard before. Looking straight into your eyes, while you try your best to avoid his gaze. You uncontrollably frowned in his welcome.

You looked around his studio, remnants of crumpled yellow pages still left on the floor, empty plastics of coffee, guitar casually sprawled in the girl producer lap as she sits there looking at this small situation that you’re in.

“I messaged you…. a couple of times” Still standing in the doorway, finding the next words to say, noticing his phone has been by his side all along. You figured after not hearing from him in two days, he probably lost his phone or something but it looks like its been alive somehow just not being able to answer your calls or messages for that matter. “I haven’t heard from you in a while… so I figured you might need this.” Raising in your hand, a couple of homemade decaf cold brews in a bottle and sandwiches you made. Gulping and trying to hide your disappointment.

You quickly placed the coffee and sandwiches you made onto the nearest table, while Yoongi just looks at you. Expression empty, you can tell he was caught off guard by your visit, gaze just following every move you make.

“I’ll just go. Just call me when you can.”

Immediately retreating, bowing politely to the co-woker who unfortunately had to witness it all. Wishing every step would just bring you closer to the door or better yet if the land you’re standing on can just swallow you whole. And when you made it outside, clutching in the doorknob on your behind. You immediately sighed and if you weren’t any stronger than this, you would’ve cried but you didn’t. You didn’t know what to feel, relieved that he’s alive? Mad because he is alive just not answering your calls? You walk in slow steps,dragging your feet—with a small ounce of hope and wishing that maybe if you wont go any faster he can eventually catch you.

But you reached the elevator and there’s no sign, not even a shadow of the man you called your boyfriend. Pressing the button, your afternoon is just full of sighs, you haven’t been dating for long.

You met him in one of your projects almost a year ago in which Hybe hired your firm to do the marketing for one of their events. You didn’t expect to meet him, usually when comes to those events the artists doesn’t play that much role. It’s always the staffs you present your proposals to, and in that case after several back and forth with the team, the marketing strategy has finally been approved. But on the last minute, the coordinator from Hybe asked if you can also brief BTS about the event instead of him, citing changes in schedule.

You on the other hand, doesn’t mind. Everything has already been polished, briefings are no big deal. You know BTS, you like their songs but you’ve always been neutral when it comes to celebrities. You dont really have strong opinions about them, to you they’re just humans.

And so you did, briefing with them was indeed brief. Everyone seems so tired and exhausted, but still politely nodding, looking at the material and listening. You kept it as concise as possible, only limiting the information to what they need to know to avoid any more problems. Not even an hour later, your briefing ended. Thanking them for their time right after, and they bow thanked you for your hard work in return.

You met there first.

Brief, concise and no sparks flying.

Not before you reached the ground floor of their building, you sent a text to your friend.

“Why did I agree to date him again?”

You wonder and kept wondering. You don’t like asserting your position in someone else’s life, most especially if they don’t make it obvious on where you stand. And in this case, you can’t blame him either if you’re not part of the priority—it was most likely given. You’ve only been dating for more than 3 months. You don’t know where he stands in yours either but he sure does feel important.

You shake your head contemplating on the event that just took place. You really can’t feel anything, you weren’t exactly mad or hurt but something felt wrong. You hopped into your car, checking to see if your best friend already saw your text. And at the same time, Yoongi’s message showed up. With the glimpse in the notification, the message started with “Sorry. I should’ve seen your messages…” and you watch as the notification disappeared, leaving his message unread on purpose. You’re glad he apologized.

Pressing the breaks and starting your car. You drove out of Yongsan and back to your apartment. You stare at such good weather outside. Sometimes Seoul traffic soothes you; some days you hate it—but today it seems fine. Saturday afternoon, people are out on dates and families are spending time outside.

You live alone and a certified home buddy, you can spend days not leaving your apartment but on days like these you wish you have somewhere else to go or at least someone to be with. You thought of Yoongi and the last time you saw each other probably around 12 days ago? You weren’t so sure either and the fact that you can’t remember made you laugh.

He called, asking what time are you going to get out of work and if you have time that evening. You were surprised by the bunch of questions he doesn’t seem to ask before but you replied anyway. “I still have one meeting in the afternoon, probably be done by 6? 7 latest… I guess? Not really sure. Why?”

“I’ll pick you up. Call me as soon as you’re done.”

“What? Yoongi wait…”

And the line got cut off. You can’t tell if its a joke, but he never really picked you up from work before. Your dates are short and casual, sometimes it doesn’t even feel like you’re exclusive but for you, you are. Most of the time, it’s just eating in the car, hanging out in your place or simply just talking over the phone. Reassuring him that if he needs anything, you’re there. You have no energy to even meet someone else and besides—you like him.

Meeting ran unnecessarily long and under the meeting table you texted him, “Hey, still in the meeting. 7:30? Really sorry! 😭” and not a minute later he replied, “No worries. Go, do a great job. I’ll wait here, front of Coffeesmith. It’s a white car this time. Call me when you’re done.”

And as soon as the meeting’s done, you were basically running out of the office and into the streets. Running at least a block away; hand on your phone. You called him up and after a few rings he answered. “On your right.” You turned and a white Benz car is flashing its headlights onto you. You went immediately and into the passenger’s side, catching your breathe and feeling infinitely relieved to see him again. “Hi.” You shyly smiled. Buckling up your seat belt and settling in. Yoongi looking casual with his blue Bape beanie, gray hoodie and black mask resting on his chin. You noticed a big white box on his lap, and asked “What’s that??” He placed the box on your lap casually and said, “It’s for you.” Looking at him with a brows furrowed in confusion as he started to drive out of the street. Looking straight at the road acting nonchalantly. And with intense curiosity, you untie the ribbon of the big white box and opened it. And to your surprise, a box full of croissants that has about 12 flavors.

You felt your stomach dropped and your mouth left agape, not knowing what to say. You just looked at him as he drives, waiting for him to say something. He notices it and smiled, “What? You said this morning, that ‘Goddamned bakery ran out of croissants again.’ so I got you some.” He literally even did the air quotes of your rant this morning. “You didn’t have to get me every flavor possible though.” Still feeling incredibly touched by his gesture. “I just want to try it together—2 for you, 10 for me.” He jokingly said. “Dibs on the ham & cheese though, best croissant ever.”

You got lost in that memory of weeks ago, while the traffic light hit red and you stopped that’s when it hit you, you miss him.

Your short reverie got cut off by the sound of you phone, and flashing on your car monitor the name of your best friend. “Where are you?” People don’t answer the phone by saying hello anymore, you noted. “Driving back to Ilsan, where are you?”

“Perfect, pick me up—let’s go to Yangyang tonight.”

“What? Yangyang?”

“Why you have other plans? Didn’t you just got dumped? I have to say, your last relationship was what? for 4 years? This one, unfortunately I have to pay Ji-eun back. I bet it’ll last longer and I lost.”

“We did not broke up.”

“Great then! Call me when you’re near.”

Picking up your best friends on the way, with them all ready for a quick get away. You wondered how come they are so prepared for this. Ji Eun and Skye are two of your closest friends, been together since middle school, high school and university. They’re basically the only people you talk to almost everyday, sending memes and rants about life in general.

They hopped into your car and Ji Eun showing off, “We got you your favorite, and my favorite and her favorite and everyone’s favorite.” Immediately realizing what this is. “You started without me… I’m offended.”

“Yangyang is at least 2 hours drive. You can’t drink yet.” Frowning at your best friends as they started clinking their cans of beer. “I hate you.” Appearing from the back passenger seat, “Oh and btw, call everyone that needs to know where you are before anything else. Cause the place we’re staying at has no signal. It’s almost an island so—no signal. I don’t think you’d mind tho.” Ji Eun dropping a very important information. “You didn’t make up with your boyfriend yet?” Skye casually asked. And you just replied by making a face. You have no idea how to answer that. You guys didn’t fight, there was not an ounce of discussion so that wasn’t a fight. If you’d need a term for it, you’d say it’s more of a cold war.

You and Yoongi have never fought about anything—yet. But let’s be honest, you both don’t have that much opportunity to fight about anything. Maybe this small misunderstanding is the first one, maybe it’s really no big deal you think. After a few minutes you all arrived to your apartment, gathered all the stuff that you need. You and your friends have always been spontaneous, always casually escaping somewhere any chance you get. And you haven’t done this in about a year so when this opportunity comes, you just drive right in. Before leaving, you made sure that there are no plugged appliances left, even turned off the water supply just in case.

And before 5 in the afternoon, you’re off to Yangyang with your friends.

Turning on the radio on your car, BTS’ Butter instantly played.

You frowned at very sound of it, reminding you of the man you called your boyfriend again. You attempted to switch the station when Ji Eun stopped you, “What? You don’t like BTS?” You sighed and said just let out a sound, “Ehhh”

“Who’s BTS again?” Skye interrupted, being the one who only likes girls. She’s never really interested in any other groups other than Twice.

“Didn’t you have a project with Hybe before? Were you able to meet them?” Your best friends in this whole world, have no idea that you’re seeing one out of the seven members of the band Ji Eun just mentioned. You hate this. You have this whole plan of keeping your relationship with him a secret until you reached the 6th month. You didn’t want to tell them anything until you know for sure that you and Yoongi are just not testing the waters.

“Yeah, I did…” answering Ji Eun’s question.

Your last relationship was heavy. You didn’t want to be in any relationship after that ended, you were single for 2 years and you were happy that way. You didn’t know how to date anymore, maybe that was the problem. Maybe that’s why you’re having a hard time now.

Their conversations about kpop just fade into the background as you continued to drive. In fast highways and clear skies, leaving the city behind you’re determined to clear your head first before even talking to Yoongi again. You’re just a few years younger than him, you’d hate to look needy or clingy or irresponsible or anything—but you also don’t want to lose him.

Summer gives the best sunsets and latests sunsets. You figured maybe that’s why you’re more exhausted during the summer, because the days are too long. Makes you feel like you can still do so much more.

Arriving at the rest stop, 20 more minutes away from the place you’d be staying at in Yangyang. And the sun hasn’t set yet. The rest of your company went out for a bathroom break after chugging in the canned beers they have bought as pregame. You stare at your phone, looking at the message that Yoongi just left you from hours before.

“Sorry. I should’ve seen your messages…I have been really busy lately. You must’ve been really worried to even go to my studio. It’s my fault, we agreed to only use the passcodes in case of emergencies. I should’ve called you. Be careful driving, call me when you can.”

You stare at your phone again not really sure what to feel. Typing and erasing and typing again, you have so much thoughts in your head. He was right—on your forth date, he gave you the passcode to his studio and him the passcode to your house. Given the situation that you’re in, there are only limited places in which you can see each other. So in case of emergencies, in case you need to find each other there’s no one really to ask because no one really knows that you’re dating—so in the event that any of you needs to, your house and his studio is ground zero. And you never really thought you would use it today, but you did.

“I’m out with friends, I’m not sure when I’ll be back in Seoul. The place I’d be staying at doesn’t have a signal. I’ll call you as soon as I’m back. I just need some time to think. Sorry, for using your code just like that. Don’t work too much, drink water and yes the cold brew is decaf.”

When you met him again at a cafe near Hybe couple months ago, the store’s about to close and you’re still settled on the veranda at its small rooftop. Lost in the book that you were reading, refusing to go home because Spring has just started and you were enjoying your coffee when the coordinator you knew from Hybe walked in a greeted you, along side him is Yoongi. Not really recognizing him then, as he’s wearing his black baseball cap and mask on but you bowed and greeted him as well. When they both passed by, you heard him ask the coordinator if you were the Team Manager of that event last year and you heard the coordinator said your name. As they disappeared into the background, you went back to reading you book and sipping the last of your coffee. Iced already melted but you finished it anyway.

Minutes later you stood up, carrying your empty glass to clean up when the coordinator called your name before your left, jogging towards you and holding in his hand his phone, in it a picture of an invitation to a small gathering in Hybe that coming weekend. Asking for you to invite your team members as well, reassuring you that’s also open bar. You smiled at his invitation and accepted it politely and scanning the qr code he gave as a pass to that gathering on Saturday. You parted ways in that cafe briefly, and you scanned the rest of the cafe and on the seat not so far away, the man in his baseball cap and mask bowed to you politely and you did the same.

The next day, you mentioned it to your team and everyone was excited. From girls, boys and even the gays—everyone was thanking you for getting the pass to that party on Satruday. “I’m pretty sure he said it was small gathering, not really a party—I think.” Clearing up the possible misunderstanding that might arise. Playfully tapping your shoulder, Rina one of your officemates, “Eyy it’s basically the same. Do you think BTS will be there?” You looked at her with shrugged your shoulders, “Not sure.”

“But you’ll go, right? We probably won’t be able to go in without you.” You flashed her a reassuring smile, “I’ll be there, as your gate-pass and for the free booze—I promise.”

Saturday came, and you napped that afternoon. Napped that went long, too long that when you woke up it’s already past 8pm and you looked at your phone with almost 15 missed calls, 8 text messages, 5 voicemails. And panicked that someone you love might have died so you scan through your phone calls hurriedly and wonder why are people from work calling you on a Saturday. Completely forgetting about the party in Hybe that you and your team got invited to. You called Rina back, “Hey, did someone died?”

“You. Are. About. To. Die.”

“What did I do?” Completely oblivious to the situation.

“Party, at Hybe. We can’t go in without you.” And that’s when it hit you.

“Oh shoot, I’m so sorry! I won’t be able to come—joke. I’ll be there in about 30 mins? Sorry I fell asleep. And who goes to a party so early anyway, it’s just 9. So you kids go get dinner first. I’ll be there in a few.” Teasing and reassuring these kids that they will be able to go in. Shaking your head before you gather up the strength it takes to put yourself out of your pajamas and into an actual decent clothing. You don’t really like going to parties at all, you like drinking but parties meant dancing and people not hearing each other. And you’re not really a fan of those. So you hoped and prayed it really is just a ‘small gathering’ as the coordinator said. You drove yourself up, Yongsan and got caught in traffic. You were really starting to feel bad for being late. Rina already called multiple times in a span of 15 mins, and traffic is still not moving. You have no choice but to call the person who invited you instead. And so you did, with much politeness and apologetic feelings you asked him to let your people in and that you’ll be there in just a short while. He find it funny that you were feeling even shy. He said it’s no big deal.

When you arrived, you thanked the heavens your people are already having fun. Immediately looking for Team Coordinator Lee, to thank him personally. The place is not that packed, obviously majority of which are Hybe employees. Mingling and playing games. Standing by the bar, Lee Han, one of the other team manager who came as well came to you with a cup of beer, “Pre-game? I was actually betting that you would bail on us tonight.” Drinking empty the beer he got for you before even responding, “I was actually thinking of doing it but then I remembered free booze.” He followed you to the bar to get more drink. When you saw they have a beer pong table and no one’s playing. And it instantly reminded you of college, time that feels so long ago. You grabbed Lee Han’s wrist and dragged him to the beer pong table, you checked the cups and it’s all empty. “What are you thinking?” You’ve been workmates with Lee Han for almost five years already, he knows your coffee orders, your past relationship, your weekday routines and even your choice of booze. And in return you know him as well, his type of clothes, his type of food and his type of men. No one in the office knew because he never made it obvious. But you knew and he knows also that it’s a secret you’d keep.

“I’m pretty sure Team Coordinator, Lee told me it’s open bar.”

“Open bar meant free flowing drinks, not one bottle of tequila per person.” You gave Lee Han a shocked expression. You were hurt by accusation, fake hurt—but it’s true though.

“I did not, meant that—I plan to share it with you. So now that’s one bottle for 2 person? How’s that sound?” Lee Han can only shake his head. You made your way to the bar and asked for a bottle of tequila in which the bartender gladly gave and even asked if it’s lime or lemon or salt. “I’d say you’re very accommodating, sir. I am now a fan of Hybe parties. I’ll take a bunch of lemons if it’s okay.” And he gladly gave you a bucket.

Prepping your beer pong but not drinking it with beer. Lee Han on the other side as you took your first shot, not with the game but with the tequila. You made that sour look, as heat flowed through your body. And Lee Han growing impatient. “Come let’s play! What’s the point in playing if all you want to do is drink anyway.” Raising your hands to come clean, “Okay, okay—let’s play.” And you did. Shooting it in one cup after the other, Lee Han had already drunk 4 shots and you with only one. Cheering as you go, gently dancing to the the loud music that fills the room—and then one specific song played, Bts’ UGH—that stopped you for a second, with an alcohol filled mind you went to Lee Han’s side with a shot on your hand and whispered, “The guy who rapped the first part of this song sounds so hot.” Stating your observation with a frown and drinking the shot on your hand. Lee Han immediately laughed at your statement, “You’re drunk and have been single for a long time.” Raising one eyebrow and with a sigh you admit. “I know.” Going back to your end of the table as the song finishes. You both are left with one cup to play. And in a matter of minutes the game ended.

You’re starting to feel dizzy and uneasy with all the alcohol you consumed. You told Lee Han that you need to go to the restroom but you never found the restroom. Some of the people you bumped into have greeted you and you stopped for a while to make small talk, feeling dizzy but feet still on the ground. You figured you just need some water, you found a fridge filled with bottled water and you got yourself one. With a sigh of relief, you felt an ounce better—you can hear a voice in your head saying, ‘You should’ve eaten something. Drinking on an empty stomach is never a good idea.’ And another helpless voice answered, ‘I know but some things never change.’ Leaning in a wall by an empty hallway, you found a stairs at the end of it, leading to the rooftop of the building.

You felt even more relieved, with a bottle in your hand you sit yourself down by the far end of the empty rooftop. Feeling really dizzy and somehow sleepy, you kept your leather jacket close and hug your knees and just stared at the ground for a long while. Hearing the party music in the background, your inner voice fighting on how in the world are you going to drive home again, sighing and looking back at the stars. When a man in all black and oversized shirt and leather slippers came to your side and in a good distance away from you. He offered a bottle of water, “Do you need more?”

You smiled and looked up to him, “Thank you, I do need more.” He opened the bottle for you and you drank the water he offered. He leaned his elbows into the rooftop wall, staring at the view of the city. Sharing silence with this stranger on cold spring night, feels comforting then you heard him sigh. “What are you thinking about?” You casually asked. Still on the floor, legs all weak you try not to look at him. Standing still and just lost in thought, “Do you think that living like this is enough?”

“Like what exactly?” He let a puff of air out along with his thoughts, “Like I’m just going with the flow, probably more like floating on thin air.”

“Floating means you have to get down at some point—cause you know gravity.” He smiled at your statement. He looked down at you, leaning your back to the wall with your arms and legs still flopping in the ground, not moving. He asked for your name and you told him. And he told you his was Yoongi, Min Yoongi. You frowned in the familiarity of that name, but can’t remember where you heard it from. You looked up at him still looking at the view the same. “Why does your voice sound like that?” He looked at you straight into your eyes, “Like what?” And you answered unknowingly, “Like I’m never going to forget it.” You were blinking your eyes a couple more times into this staring contest and you both smiled at each other.

You gathered all your strength to prop yourself up and dust the back of your jeans off. You held out your hand, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Min Yoongi.” As soon as he shook your hand, it hit you where you heard that name from. “You’re member of Bts?” Still holding on to his hand. He just laughed at your statement.

Few seconds later, you realized you were holding onto it a little longer than normal and you immediately retreat. “Sorry. I probably should’ve recognized you, right?” He smiled again, “It’s okay. Are you okay?” Tilting your head and realizing you are no longer dizzy.

“Yeah, I surprisingly feel better.” Nodding back at him.

Getting your phone at your back pocket, fishing out your car keys on the other and carrying two empty bottles in your hand. You smiled back to him, “I’ll go ahead.” And you went your way and before you could even go farther, he asked “You’re not driving are you?” You turned back to him and just smiled. “Thanks for the water!”

next part here

[supercorpbb]

Are you a fan of SuperCorp or a fandom creator? Want to see more art and fics like this or take part in this kind of collaboration where artists inspire writers? Follow us! Sign ups begin soon. Everyone is welcome! Now, enjoy the story.

(Thanks @iwishicoulddrawheatherforaliving for the art and @emiliarowan for the story !)

It wasn’t entirely unusual for Kara to visit Lena at work.

What was unusual, however, was Supergirl barreling headfirst through a plate glass window into the conference room while Lena was personally welcoming the newest group of L-Corp interns.

Lena stood at the front of the conference room, heart thundering in her chest, as Kara rolled around on the floor for a long moment before standing and whipping her cape over her head.

“Whoopsie-daisy!” Supergirl exclaimed in a sing-song voice not entirely appropriate for the amount of destruction she had just caused. She looked around the room with wide eyes before her gaze landed on her wife. “Lena!”

“K— Supergirl,” Lena huffed as the Kryptonian hugged her, squeezing just a bit too tightly for Lena’s human rib cage. “Are you alright?”

“Just peachy,” Kara replied. “You smell nice.”

“Supergirl,” Lena muttered as Kara inhaled deeply into Lena’s hair. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Kara said innocently. “Ooo, what’s that?”

Lena looked up and realized that she had squeezed the laser pointer in her hand, and the small red dot was moving across the screen behind her. Kara released her from her hug and backed up, sticking her tongue out and furrowing her brow in concentration before launching herself at the wall. Lena’s wrist flicked in surprise, sending the little red dot across the wall and onto the ceiling. Kara, unrestrained by the laws of gravity, took off after the dot, and in doing so sent the projector screen to the floor with a loud crash.

“Miss Luthor?”

Lena looked away from the chaotic Kryptonian as her assistant poked her head into the room. “Jess, I’m not sure now is the time…”

“Agent Danvers is on Line One,” Jess told her, but she was watching as Kara chased the laser pointer into a corner, knocking over a potted plant in the process.

“Right,” Lena replied. She looked back at the dozen interns currently watching National City’s heroine pouncing on a red dot. “Okay, I think everyone should head to lunch a bit early. Orientation will resume at one thirty with your department heads.”

The young scientists didn’t even grumble as they shuffled out of the room.

“Here, keep her occupied,” Lena instructed, handing over the laser pointer to Jess as she stepped into the lobby to take the phone call. “Alex?”

“Heeeeey, Lena,” Alex answered, raising Lena’s suspicions. “I don’t want to alarm you, but, um, have you seen…?”

“Have I seen my wife? Yes, she crashed through the window into my conference room about three minutes ago, and now Jess is… entertaining her,” Lena replied, peering into the next room. In fact, Jess might’ve been having a bit too much fun leading Kara around the room using the laser pointer. Lena sighed and focused her attention back to the phone call.

“Oh, good, good,” Alex replied. “Does she seem a little… off?”

“If by off you mean high as a kite, then yes, I’d say she’s a little off,” Lena told her. “Care to explain?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line and Lena could practically hear Alex trying to formulate her response. “Well, the team got a call from the NC Botanical Gardens about this plant that somebody donated that they couldn’t identify and it turned out to be alien and while they were inspecting it, the plant shot some kind of pollen in their faces.”

“Some kind of pollen?” Lena interrupted. “Is it dangerous?”

“I don’t think so,” Alex replied. “It affected them all differently. J’onn passed out immediately— he’s fine, he’s sleeping it off in the infirmary. Brainy is acting like he’s had fifteen shots of espresso— he’s currently reprogramming the Roomba for combat. It didn’t affect Nia at all, probably because she’s half human. Kara flew off before I could really get an idea of how it was affecting her, but you say she’s… high? How so?”

Lena looked back into the other room to see that Kara was lying on her back beneath the broken potted palm, slapping playfully at the fronds and giggling. She really only had one comparison she could make.

When she was seven years old, Lionel had brought home a kitten as a pet. A little black and white fluff ball with a flat face, Lena had named her Duchess. Lena had doted on the cat until Lillian sent her away to boarding school, and she wasn’t entirely sure what became of it after that. One distinct memory of the cat came to mind now. She had given Duchess a catnip-stuffed toy, and the normally refined feline had spent hours rolling around on the toy, carrying it from room to room, pupils dilated, completely relaxed, stoned out of her mind.

That was exactly what Kara looked like now.

“Are you telling me my sister is—“

“Basically a human-shaped cat at the moment? Mmhmm,” Lena confirmed.

Alex let out a long-suffering sigh on the other end of the phone. “Okay, we need to get her someplace safe where she can’t do any damage until the chemicals get out of her system.”

“If I can get her home, I can turn on the red sun lamps in the bedroom,” Lena replied.

“Every time I try to forget that you had those installed, you just have to remind me,” Alex grumbled. “But yeah, good idea. Take her home, make her shower to get any excess pollen off, and then just lock her in the bedroom until it wears off.”

“Okay, I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes.”

Lena made her way back to the conference room where Kara was hiding behind the edge of the table, eyeing the laser pointer on the wall yet again, and Jess was smiling gleefully as she slowly moved the light in circles around on the wall.

“Okay, I hate to break up the fun, but hand over the laser pointer,” Lena said, holding her hand out expectantly.

“Awwwww,” Jess groused.

“Jessica,” Lena warned.

Jess sighed and gave her the device. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” Lena told her. “I’m gonna need you to—“

“Cancel your meetings for the rest of the day and have facilities come clean up this mess and replace the window?” Jess supplied. “On it, boss.”

“Now I remember why I hired you,” Lena said with a grin. “Come on, Kara, darling, we’re going home.”

“But—“ Kara began to argue, only to stop when Lena aimed the laser pointer at the door.

Lena managed to get the pouncing Kryptonian into the elevator, downstairs, and through the lobby with minimal incident and only one bent elevator panel of destruction. What Lena hadn’t realized, however, was that once they were outside, the bright midday sunlight made the laser pointer’s dot near-impossible to see, even for Kryptonian eyes. The city itself, however, offered plenty of things to distract Kara away from the town car on the curb.

“Ooo, look, Lena!” Kara exclaimed. “Kebabs!”

Lena grabbed Kara’s cape in an attempt to stop her, but that only resulted in her being dragged across the sidewalk towards a falafel stand. Once they were at the front of the line, Lena bought several servings of kebabs and grabbed them all up before Kara could get hold of them.

“Nuh-uh,” Lena chastised. “You only get kebabs if you get in the car. Deal?”

Kara pouted, but she reluctantly cooperated. Once they were in the car, Lena instructed George to take them to her penthouse. When they reached the apartment building, however, there was an ice cream truck serendipitously stationed on the corner, and Kara pointedly refused to enter the building without getting ice cream. Lena couldn’t help but scowl as she paid for a heaping cone of Kara’s favorite chocolate swirl. Her dour mood couldn’t last, however, with Kara happily lapping at her ice cream cone as the elevator made its way to the top floor.

Once inside their apartment, it wasn’t difficult to get Kara into the bedroom, and once she was there Lena immediately hit the button that switched on the red sun lamps and locked down all of the windows and doors. The room was awash in a coppery glow, and Kara immediately sank down on the foot of the bed.

“Whoa!” she exclaimed woozily.

“You okay?” Lena asked, immediately concerned.

“Yeah, just really sleepy all of a sudden,” Kara replied, and then she yawned in further confirmation. She stretched her arms high over her head, the remainder of her ice cream cone tipping precariously.

“Easy there,” Lena warned, pulling the offending dessert back down to face-level. “Why don’t you finish that up while I get the shower going, and then after that you can take a nap. Sound good?”

“Will you nap with me?” Kara asked pitifully

“Of course,” Lena replied. After the last half hour, she certainly felt like she needed a nap herself.

Kara finished the ice cream quickly, as Lena collected towels and pajamas. She managed to get Kara out of her super suit and into the shower without using the laser pointer or bribing her with food. For a moment Lena felt quite successful— until Kara reached out and yanked Lena, fully clothed, under the spray.

“Kara!” Lena sputtered.

Kara just giggled, eyes fixated south of Lena’s face as her white blouse became more and more transparent. “Hehe… tiddies.”

Lena put her fingers underneath Kara’s chin and pushed her face up until she met her gaze. “Eyes up here, Danvers.”

By the time she got Kara out of the shower her wife was practically falling asleep standing up. Lena managed to get Kara’s blonde hair mostly dried and forced her into a t-shirt and pajama shorts before she staggered to the bed.

“Just gonna close my eyes for a bit,” Kara murmured as she cuddled into a pillow.

“You do that, darling,” Lena chuckled. Then she made her way back to the bathroom. She cleaned up the puddles of water, dried her hair, and put on her own pajamas before returning to the bedroom.

She blinked at the sight that greeted her. In the ten minutes she had taken in the bathroom, Kara had raided their closet for all of the pillows, blankets, and extra comforters, and had used those to construct a round fort on their king-size bed.

“Kara?” Lena called hesitantly, and a blonde head appeared over the top of the nest.

“Lena!” Kara exclaimed, reaching toward her with grabby hands.

Lena went willingly, climbing carefully over the blankets and into the red-tinted pillow fort Kara had created. Once she was inside, Kara tucked a blanket over her and then curled into her body, resting practically on top of her as her head found Lena’s chest for a pillow.

“Mmm, this okay?” Kara asked.

Lena sighed, moving a bit until her body fit even better against Kara’s. “This is good.”

“Yeah,” Kara sighed. “You’re so soft. Love you.”

Lena stroked her hair and let out a sigh of her own. “Love you, too.”

[hmspogue]

Outer Banks season 2 Official Trailer shot-by-shot rundown

A comprehensive post where I scream about analyze the entire trailer frame by frame for clues, theories, and plot. Just my own opinions and general tin foil-hatting

These are screenshots from Netflix’s trailer for Outer Banks season 2. I do not claim or own any of these.

note: this post is tagged as a long post if you wish to avoid having to scroll until your thumbs break.

“My old man used to tell me, ‘it’s best to never say you’ve hit rock bottom’.”

(Putting all of these shots together since they’re scenes we already know but-) Holy shit, okay let’s just....start off like this I guess, damn.

“'Trust me’, he said...”

Kiara looking back and forth between the boys like this really just feeds the headcanon I have that her form of grief this season is going to be her trying to hold it together for their sakes (and eventually just snapping).

JJ just looks fucking furious someone give these kids a hug? I already know this scene is going to ruin me.

“You can always go...”

JJ back working at the hotel. He looks literally so angry again in this scene I could see him self destructing at work and losing his job? (Please do not be isolating yourself you beautiful son of a bitch even though I know you’re going to).

Pope in the Twinkie (costuming wise they all are in warmer looking clothes for some of the shots, so just confirming it’s a little bit into the school year when this all takes place).

“Lower”

Big John was real big into pep talks, I see. (seriously can you imagine Big John having this conversation with like 8 year old John B after he fucking dropped his ice cream cone or some shit I shouldn’t be laughing).

I’m just-

These poor kids, I wanna know how the police all the way down in the Bahama’s knew about them?

Their calves....

“RUN!”

Are going to be so fucking jacked by the end of this season I stg.

Fuck you.

“The gold from the Royal Merchant....it’s here.”

For a while, I had thought that maybe they didn’t even make it to the Bahama’s at the front of the season and ended there (because everyone had been filming in there). But I guess they’re going to be making two trips.

If I were a bird from this POV I’d shit right on that house no questions asked.

oooooh ho hokay. Just so we’re clear. Ward Cameron not only get away with murder and about two dozen other felonies, but-

“Half a billion.”

HE STILL FINDS THE GOLD IN THE CRAIN HOUSE AND GETS TO KEEP IT?

Not the polo with the snap back, I just know this man has a playlist called Sad Boi Hours that is just Juice WRLD’s top 5 songs on Spotify and he tells his friends they wouldn’t know the underground artists he listens to.

Sh, you have lost screaming privileges. Go inside and take a nap maybe.

“John B, we are fugitives in a foreign country.”

So, previously, I was talking about how I was confused how they would still be trying to find him is everyone thought he was dead, but here the wanted poster clearly says “presumed lost at sea”. I think that will be interesting to see how the Pogues all interpret that. 

Especially because they already had a memorial for John B and everything, I wonder if there will be any part of the Pogues holding out hope that they both could still be out there OUCH.

I’m going to circle back to this, but it looks like John B and Sarah are going to get separated for a little while in this man hunt, I could see my idiot himbo son trying to sacrifice himself so Sarah can get away but in reality just....stranding her.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”

Oh, sweetie....

“Well, Sarah Cameron, I do stupid things all the time without realizing it.”

The volume of his self awareness is astronomical. sir, that is your whole character summed up in your own words.

GOD, IT’S ME AGAIN. PLEASE LET THEM LEAN INTO COMPLETE HIMBO JOHN B THIS SEASON I’LL DO ANYTHING-

nyyooooOOOOOOOOOOOOM-

“Hold on!”

The complete abject terror I would feel having John Booker Routledge driving get-away and then saying the words “Hold on” while reaching fro the gear shift? The english language fails me. 

Sarah, bestie, I’m so sorry.

I just wanna know-

what the plan or objective was in this situation. What was the reason for being this dramatic.

Rest in piss, bozo <3

“Ward’s still out there...”

Okay, same conversation they were having as before. I wonder what makes them decide they need to get back to the OBX for this tho.

“I can clear my name. This can all be over in one shot.”

It looks like Topper watching this but way more concerningly, correct me if I’m wrong but this 100% looks like....John B gets caught. And the DEATH PENALTY?! He did have a mug shot for the fliers in s1 and the one above but he was never brought in? Plus he just looks super dirty and dishevled in this one so I-

Jail break anyone?

I also still want to know if they’re going to go with a Topper redemption arc this season. like, does he know more than he should just from being around Rafe and his big fat mouth? Is he going to help out the Pogues even if it’s just for Sarah?

This shot just suddenly made me really sad. The thought of this all started because Big John left one last thing for his son to find, his literal life’s work. And when it all started, it was just a fun adventure John B and his best friends were going on together and having fun with. Then it all got dragged to absolute shit and turned into what it did, including the remaining 3 Pogues thinking that this treasure hunt took their two best friends away from them. And it’s nothing like Big John intended it to be.

Why my eyes wet?

Now we’re edging into what I was talking about earlier with John B and Sarah getting separated.

“If you think there is anything I wouldn’t do...”

Once again, John B is no where to be found. Also, just in case y’all didn’t already know or forgot Ward is an actual psychopath.

I believe this one of the new character, played by Jontavious Johnson (Stubbs). Based on the voice over it lowkey sounds like they’re implying Ward maybe hired Stubbs and Cleo to find and bring Sarah back. My theory would be I bet they do go to retrieve her, but she somehow convinces them that it would be more beneficial for them in the end to be on the Pogue’s side instead.

Miss Girl you gotta be keeping your head on a SWIVEL. Especially when you’re a FUGITIVE of the LAW-

“...you haven’t been paying attention.”

My guy, who are you clarifying this for?

It’s what you deserve for monologuing.

in all seriousness, the idea of them coming to face to face with Ward in Nassau after thinking they finally escaped him is genuinely terrifying.

“SARAH!”

It kind of looks like they’re either hiding their faces or covering their noses? I don’t know maybe it was from some tactic to get away from Ward.

What did I literally jsut say about yelling privileges, you unhinged mother fucker?

“I’m calling the shots now. I’m driving.”

The following progression of scenes made me actually snort-

“I can’t drive stick.”

PLEASE THE FINGER GUNS LAUNCHED ME INTO ORBIT I LOVE THEM, YOUR HONOR.

Alright, so now it looks like we’re in Charleston. This is the same scene with Heyward’s truck that got leaked from BTS (read: JJ and Kie shoulder touch).

One of the main things that stuck out to me in the following scenes which, you will see, is it lowkey looks like Pope is kind of heading up this part of the operation, or even going in alone? The following clips are just very Pope focused. 

I don’t know what it means, it’s just an observation.

“John B was not the only one that Ward double-crossed.”

LIMBRY-

Bro, we have been hearing about this woman for literal months and I just have....so many questions? 

Who the hell is she? How is she connected to Ward? Why is she in South Carolina instead of the OBX? How do the Pogues even learn about her and how to track her down? How is she meant to “help” them? GAH I JUST WANNA KNOOOW. I already know I don’t trust her though and no I will not be offering up supporting evidence.

Sir, that is my son please unhand him.

“I think you know what I want.”

.......no? But feel....free to explain yourself?

The print on the paper is the same one that’s on the ceiling tiles in the following scene. Obviously, with a key on it that most likely goes to the place a few shots from now.

Hell yeah, son, let’s get SLEUTHING.

“The treasure belongs to the Pogues.”

DAMN STRAIGHT.

Bestie’s I’m not going to lie, I stared at this frame for a solid 10 minuets and I have no idea what it says on there I’m sorry. Someone in the comments is welcome to enlighten us.

“We gotta find it first.”

I can’t tell if that’s just dirt or if he hurt his head? But he look GOOD right now for one thing. For another, same outfit as the one in the Twinkie from the beginning of the trailer.

Look at her. LooK AT HER! LOOK! AT! HER! I MISSED HER SO MUCH even in that damn smiley face top that continues to haunt my waking hours she is in it so much and it stresses me out for literally no good reason I’m sorry-

I could literally cry right now and I think that speaks volumes to how little we actually see him genuinely happy. Have I mentioned how much I love that red hat?

Also, probably not that important, but this is not from the same scene as the shots of Pope and Kiara were. This is from the next one-

“Woogity-woogity?”

“Give me some woogity, baby!”

Yeah, this pushed me over the fucking edge, the way that they’re actually happy and laughing? The fact that they kept woogity-woogity and made it A Thing? Yes.

I am, however, going to be intentionally ignoring what appears to be the very intentional stagingof having such an obvious space between where Kiara and Pope are sitting adn where JJ sits, even including the level they’re sitting on because I don’t have the emotional capacity to face those implications right now. Thank you for your time.

Yes yeeeeEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

GIVE ME ALL OF THE SCENES OF THEM ACTUALLY GETTING TO BE TEENAGERS AND JUST BREATHE AND LAUGH AND HAVE A GOOD TIME AND NOT BE RUNNING FOR THEIR FUCKING LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!

before Rafe comes in and literally starts shooting because they can’t breathe for more than 7 seconds but we’ll....get to that.

They refer to Sarah as a Pogue this season or I burn Netflix to the ground. Your move, Jonas.

50 bucks says John B is driving the Twinkie again for the first time since being back.

I deadass think the Pogues JUST got Sarah and John B back and they’re just having the time of their life. Kie was in her smiley face outfit when Pope was in this one a few clips ago, and I still hold to the belief that that one still they released of JJ and Kie hopping over a fence is the Pogue reunion so-

Ward? I have no idea what he’s looking at behind the wall paper and I’ll be so honest I don’t care my eyes are only seeing Pogue content right now.

“This is a map of the whole island.”

This fit, when will John B learn how to operate buttons, stay tuned for season 5. Also my previous theory of this being their reunion outfits and stuff because Pope is in the back in the same jacket as before.

The plot thickens and so has JJ’s hair, Rudy drop the shampoo brand.

Please, dear God, tell me they’re back in the sex church. For @jiaaraa sake.

Kiara, your Madison is showing.

Okay, I really did try but all I can make out is Something to the tomb begin something something.

You’re welcome.

I am no expert but I do not believe boats operate on land.

John B looks like he is in the same outfit here that is in his mug shot we saw on the TV screen so I have a sneaking suspicion this is where he gets caught. 

“John B is back-”

Once again with the damn sexual tension that’s always between Barry and Rafe in every scene they do are we about to kiss right now?

“-it’s him or me.”

First of all, no.

Second of all, I’m just....so very confused about this time line this season. It kind of looks like Ward and Rafe follow and find Sarah and John B in Nassau (unless those scenes by the truck were actually back in the OBX). So did they....go to Nassau, then just come right back when they did? I’m just confused.

Put that thing back where it came from or so help me.

Literally when will you stop at this point I am begging you. 

This looks like the same scene the Pogues were, ya know, literally just having a good time at so fuck me, I guess.

Yeah, no, it’s going to be a no from me, I’m just going to pretend like I’m not seeing this and moving on.

I have simply no idea what is going on here or who that is on the bike but maybe JJ? Maybe Luke even? I think that’s JJ’s bike. 

The sewer scene. The SEWER SCENE-

For months sicne that tiktok leaked this damn scene has been genuinely all I could think about. So (obviously) it seems like they’re sending Kie down into the sewer to go do seomthing and things go horribly, horribly wrong. 

If you haven’t seen the tiktok, essentially all it was was JJ and Pope screaming and trying to lift up the man hole cover while Kie is begging for them to hurry from inside. I’m cheating a little bit as this isn’t a shot from the trailer but this picture was posted and it’s from the same scene.

I’ll just....leave this here. Back to the trailer shots.

Nice. Also, same shirt as mugshot.

Hey, um, what? 

Kiara’s car, she’s driving, I can’t tell who’s in the back seat or the front.

Holy God what is going on and how can I as an audience member put a stop to it?

So, same scene as we will see and was in the teaser but, for some reason, they’re all jumping off of a giant ass boat into the little life raft where it looks like JJ gets hurt later but don’t you worry we’re getting to that.

JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE THEY BOTH LOOK SO DAMN GOOD AND THEIR LITTLE SMILES SPARE ME-

Cleo 🥵

I’m so excited to see her arc and what it brings this season you guys have no idea.

Please for the love of God be about to get Ward Cameron’s ass like he deserves literally punt him into jail right from Tanny Hill.

Sarah at My Druther’s with what looks like a bloody bandage on her side? Same outfit she’s wearing when they’re running from the police on the beach and she has the bandage there too so. Interesting. 

Topper hugging who I’m pretty sure is Sarah, being a general douche because he’s clearly looking at John B like 😏 

Clips like these serve to remind me just how many of my worldly posessions I would gladly give up to be able to punch Topper Thorton in the throat one time. 

I think this is Cleo jumping off the boat with Pope after John B and Sarah. 

Absolutely busting a lung at Pope’s form in this one.

John B and Sarah waiting in the life raft, still Cleo and Pope coming after them. The obvious next question is where are JJ and Kiara. The scene I’m sure you all have been waiting for is coming up and clearly takes place in the life raft as well.

So, I really think JJ and Kie get left for last, something horrible happens as they’re trying to jump (my head instantly goes to JJ maybe like pushing Kie out of the way and getting hit on the head instead or even just some accident). 

And, oh my GOD a scene of him falling off the boat after it happens and Kiara diving in after him immediately, having to desperatly try to stop him from sinkingand get to the life raft holy shit-

Girl CATCH HIM?????

Because why wouldn’t this be Rafe’s fault. Part of me wonders if this isn’t related to JJ being hurt.

I am going to try and unpack this as calmly as possible because behind my computer screen I am vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass but respectfully.

WHAT IN THE FUCK IS TIAUEWFHLAILA

Okay, so scene wise, JJ’s hit his head somehow (probably while he was jumping with Kiara) it looks like and now they’re back on the raft. 

In my opinion, this is either:

A) JJ is in really, really bad condition after getting hurt in the jump and they’re not sure he’s going to make it. So this is a “Please stay with me, stay awake, please don’t die” hug OR

B) They very narrowly just avoided a deadly situation (my first thought is JJ hits his head while jumping, passes out in the water, maybe almost drowns but Kie and the others get him onto the life raft in time) and this is more of a “Oh my God, you’re okay, you’re safe now, we’re okay” hug. 

I honestly lean more to the second one based on the little bit of Sarah’s face we saw in the background. To me, it almost looked like she was smiling thru tears, which, fits way more with the second option than the first. 

Anyways. Moving on before I burst a lung again.

(also, before anyone comes at me, no, I’m not happy JJ is hurt, obviously.  

(Once again, arrest outfits). You can still see the bandage but it looks like Sarah’s limping now too so...good Lord give the girl a break maybe?

Everything in this trailer just went to shit so fast I think I have whip lash, can we go back to the Pogues hanging out and being happy now pkease I liked those scenes.

“I get it. You guys are scared.”

“No.”

She’s cute but, uh, hello sewer scene outfits. Seems like them planning to do whatever the hell they were going to do in the sewers but the boys are starting to get cold feet as maybe they should but hind sight is 20/20 I suppose.

“It’s kind of cute.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You should’ve just led with that.”

I will never be able to express how much I adore Pogue banter and general dumbassery and I have a feeling this season will not be lacking in either department

I high key don’t think these two are actually going to be there for this scene to go down but I’ll let it slide this time because-

They do be kinda cute.

It both feels like I’ve been waiting for this damn show for 3 years and also like I just watched season 1 last month explain that to me. 

Either way holy shit. I missed this dumb show and these dumb kids so much it physcially hurts and WE GET THEM BACK IN T-MINUS 16 DAYS.

Also. Where The Hell Is Wheezie Cameron And When Will She Have The Rights She Deserves.

[nn1895]

AU August Fic 17

Annoying Neighbor

Warnings: grief, recovery from a severe injury, death of a loved one, ableism (?)

Prowl had concocted the perfect plan of revenge.  It had eleven steps and was guaranteed to succeed.  Then he’d logged onto Electronics Planet-Wide to purchase micro-motors and industrial adhesive and The Morally Correct Decision was on sale instead.

It had started six weeks ago when his new neighbor had moved in.

Prowl had caught sight of him from a window the day he’d moved in.  Being the vigilant, concerned Enforcer that he had been, he shifted his chair slightly to one side and watched him.

(It was not spying.)

He was easy to peg - flashy expensive paint, very trendy color changing visor, and smooth curves from helm to pede.  Beside him was a music case - which meant he was a Serious Musician and not a dabbler like Nightbeat.  Serious Musicians insisted on having their weapons - instruments with them at all times.  They babied the bits of string and metal like real sparklings and ordered everyone around them about.  It was all done in service to ‘The Music’ or ‘The Muse’ depending on how pretentious they were.

Prowl may have been asked to do protection detail for one too many ‘artists’ when he’d been a patrol bot.

As he’d watched  a trio of mismatched trucks had pulled up and more bots had hopped out and started unloading.  Obviously not a hired company.  Friends from the way they greeted his new neighbor.

Prowl had been deciding if he should start running the plates or not when something heavy slammed into his front door.

The fraggers!

Prowl rushed to the door, dragging himself along by the back of his couch and the edge of the table.

He slammed his fist on the panel and the door slid open to the sight of two femme with sparkly pink and green paint trying to manuver a box that was at least five inches too long to fit through the doorway from the hallway.

“What do you think you are doing?!” he yelled.  The two femmes jumped and dropped the box.  “If you’ve damaged anything -!”

Prowl heard running pedes and turned to see the musician jogging over.  He came to a stop and put a servo on the box.

“Sorry, sorry, mech,” the musician said.  He sounded tired.  Probably partying all night with beautiful bots on either arm.  “We’ll try to keep it -” The mech’s optics looked down and caught sight of Prowl’s-  Now he looked sympathetic and Prowl hated it.

“If you are so incompetent and stupid to try and fit that up here, I won’t count on it!” he growled.  There, now he looked angry.  Better.

“Whatever, mech,” the musician said, waving a servo and turning away.  He grabbed one end of the box and the femmes took the other.  Prowl watched them struggle with it for a few more minutes and then closed his door.

There.  His neighbor would have no reason to bother him.

Prowl limped over to a chair and slowly lowered himself down.  He looked around at this meticulously clean habsuite.  Everything matched.  Everything was in order.

It might be his prison, but it was still his.

0-0-0

That night the music started.  At first Prowl had written it off as the Great Musician trying to announce his presence.

The second night it happened again.  Then the third night. 

By the second week, Prowl was already plotting destruction.

It wasn’t even a song - not really.  He’d tried to find any pattern, but it was just an odd collection of notes, strummed at odd times, as if the musician was playing half in his processor and half in the real world.

(It gave him something to blame the insomnia on at least.)

It was nearly morning and The Musician still hadn’t stopped.  Prowl had given up on recharge hours ago and was trying to at least read a datapad.

He started to press himself deeper into his favorite chair - the way he had since he was a youngling - to feel the thick foam curl up around him and the tension in his legs and hips stretch sleepy cables and sensors.

His fake pedes slipped.  Without sensors or the instant control of his processor, he couldn’t get enough traction and he slipped out of the chair and onto the floor with a thump.  

He’d done some physical therapy and training just after the - just after.  They covered the basics of standing, walking, and getting up.  His medics had warned him that there would be some things he would never do.  They’d warned him that too much repeated strain on his healing stubs would cause damage and had advised him to break the habit.

Prowl crawled across the floor and into his berth.  The strange music notes tapped on their shared wall as he waited for the rage to stop shaking him.

0-0-0

“This is Knock-about, signing off for the night!”

Prowl itched to respond, to correct him, to tell him that was not the proper way to -

But he couldn’t.  As far as anyone was concerned, Prowl had left his enforcer’s comm chip once he was put on leave.  They had neglected to check if anyone else’s comm chip got ‘misplaced.’

He couldn’t risk plugging it into his frame and alerting them, so he’d hooked it up to a radio speaker.  With no transmitter, despite how much he was tempted, he couldn’t talk to them.

He wanted to tell Nightbeat to stop shilling his new mystery novel and investigate the west dock more thoroughly.  He wanted to tell Chase he was doing an amazing job with the Balljoint case.  He needed to tell Strongarm she was being an idiot about the report format.

Prowl looked out the window and down into the street.  If he had his times right then - there!

A fluorescent blue and yellow two wheeled altform was zipping down the road - Knock-about.  Prowl raised a servo even though the mech wouldn’t see him so high up.

Be safe, he thought, watching until he was gone from view.

“This is Unit 994, I need some backup for a -”

There was a knock at the door.  Prowl leaned forwards and flicked off the radio. He brought up the door camera on his HUD and -

Ugh.  His Building Manager.  Prowl pinged the door to slide open and there stood Alchemy, shinier than a racer, dumber than a senator.  More annoying than a medic.

“Good evening!  I hope I’m not interrupting?”  Prowl heard him add the ‘my dear’ in his processor.  He hadn’t done it out loud since Prowl had blown up on him that first week.  Progress at least.

“What do you want, Alchemy,” Prowl grunted and turned his chair away from him.  He wanted to watch Chase make it home at least and his shift should be ending any klik now.

“It’s going to be a lovely day tomorrow!  I’m going to walk down to the street market and pick up some sweets - do you want anything?”  Alchemy took a few steps into the room and put on a winning smile.

Prowl glared harder and didn’t answer.

“Maybe you’d like some fresh crystals to brighten the place up?” he offered, his smile stretching his face almost painfully.

“No.”

“A cup of warm candied energon?”

“No.”

“We could -”

“No.”

“Go away,” Prowl snarled.  Any minute now -

“No,” Alchemy said, crossing his arms.  He sat down defiantly on the couch.  “You can’t lock yourself up in here like this Prowl.”

Prowl turned slowly, his spark tight and huge in his chest.

(He wasn’t used to being scared.)

“Go.”

“I’m not leaving here until you agree to do something besides sit in that slagging chair and stare out the window.  It’s weird.  It’s not healthy.”

“Leave.  Now.”  Prowl could feel his voice trembling slightly.  He was - he was going to lose it.  The medic had called it a panic attack.  Prowl just hoped this one was one of the ones where he got violent.  He was going to wipe that smile away.

(He hated the panic attacks.)

“I’m not leaving and you can’t make me,” Alchemy said primly.

“No,” Prowl said quietly.  “I can’t.”

For a moment Alechemy looked pleased.  Then, Prowl watched the realization come over him like the shadow of a moon.  

“No - I mean.”  He stood quickly.  “I didn’t mean - I’ll go.  Sorry!  I’m sorry, Prowl, I’ll just -”

The door thudded closed.

He’d missed Chase driving home.  He hadn’t told him to be safe.

0-0-0

The true horror of the week was when the Musician Himself came to visit again.

Prowl was in the process of re-sanding his tabletop because the slate blue didn’t match the trim as well as he’d thought.  After a very heated conversation with the local paint store and one drone-delivered can later, he was finally re-doing it.

The knock was another annoying tune - up-up-down - and he didn’t bother getting up.  It came again.  

(Leave.)

“Hello?”

Scrap.  Slag it all to hell.  Prowl lifted himself into the chair and ping it to open. 

The musician still looked tired, but he was smiling.  Prowl glared back.  He stepped inside and the door closed behind him.

He was beautiful.  He was clearly built for performances - simple, bright paint and accents, strong hips and shoulders for stunts, delicate pedes and ankles for dancing -

Prowl didn’t think about his chipping paint (couldn’t get to the detailer’s) or his (don’t think about it).

“Hello,” the mech said, his voice surprisingly rough, “we’re neighbors and I’ve been wanting to introduce myself.  I’m Jazz.  Jus’ moved here from Polyhex.”  Yes, Prowl recognized the accent now.

“Do you need anything?” Prowl bit out, digits curling into the arms of his chair.  

“I jus’ think we got off on the wrong -” panic stole over the mech’s face as he changed his words.  “I think mebbe we started wrong, so I wanted ta introduce myself and find out a bit more about ya.”

Prowl said nothing, letting the silence stretch.  On the other side of the room, Jazz fidgeted.

“I’m a musician?  Do you like music?  I see ya got a radio -”

“No.”

(Don’t look!  That’s private.)

“No…ya don’t?  Ah, ‘kay.”  He looked down at the tarp and the sandpaper.  “Oh!  Are ya doin’ some renovatin’?  I did a bit wit’ my - my family when I was a bitlet.  I could -”

“I do not need help.”  That was sharper than he’d intended, but if it got him to leave -

The mech flinched.

(Sorry.  Sorry!)

“Well, even if ya don’ need help, if ya jus’ want somebot ta keep ya company.  Ya can always call, I’m not doin’ much these days… If - if ya need anything -”

Need anything from a healthy, whole-framed musician who was probably just getting home from a party or the racetrack or a lover’s house?  Ha.

“I won’t.  Good-bye.”

The door closed and Prowl was shaking.  He vented.  He wrapped a blanket around himself.  He counted ceiling tiles and sparkbeats and colors.

0-0-0

So Prowl planned out the Perfect Revenge.  He made sure it was untraceable, that no one would get hurt, and hoped it would be enough to drive the mech away.  There would be lights, confetti, and minor damage to the doorframe.

He logged onto the site to buy the last thing he needed when a pop-up ad filled the screen.

External Helmphones!  29.99!  Block out noise without mods!  Play your favorite tunes!

Prowl had gone to exit out of the pop-up when he’d hesitated.  Only bots like The Musician and constructionbots had internal control of their audials - increasing and decreasing their sensitivity.  If he could just block out the noise…

He wasn’t sure why the noise bothered him so much.

(That was a lie)

Maybe for many reasons.  

It kept him up.

(Lie.)

It was all nonsense sounds and that irritated his tactical computer.

(Lie.)

He needed the quiet to concentrate.

(Lie.)

It…was a reminder that there were people outside these walls.

(...)

He added them to cart, checked out, and closed out of the site entirely to remove temptation.  

He was going to be a ‘good person.’

Slaggit.

0-0-0

Prowl waffled for the next few days between being glad he’d decided to just order the helmphones and wishing he’d bought the industrial adhesive at least so he could glue the Musician to the ceiling.

He had realized after he’d repainted the table that it was not the exact match he’d intended and so he was now repainting the shelving to match.

Primus, he was tired of this.  Even the paint dealer had thought it was weird, getting mad about a .023 difference.  But once it was finished he could -

(Why was he doing this?)

He was making good progress on the shelves.  He’d probably be finished in time to listen to Chase and Knock-about use the comms for their lunch orders. He’d told them many times not too, but since it was a closed circuit between just his team…

The delivery company pinged him that his package was at his door.  Finally!

Prowl closed the paint can - he’d learned his lesson - and rolled onto his knees.  He shuffled to the chair.

(Thank goodness no one could see him.)

He heaved himself up and walked (stumbled) towards the door, gripping the edge of the furniture.

(He’d lined it up like this so he didn’t have to use -)

By the time he reached the front door he was panting.  He waited a moment for his venting to slow and the heat in his helm and thighs to dissipate.  Then he opened the door.

No package.

Prowl cycled his optics.  Where - ?

He looked right and there was his package, box loudly proclaiming it contain the planet’s the best helmphones, in front of the Musician’s door.

Prowl growled.  If he used the wall and went slow, he should be able to make it and pick up the box.  It would be tricky, but if he -

The door opened.  Prowl jerked back and slid his door mostly shut, leaving just enough room to watch.

The musician looked down.

“What?”  He knelt and lifted the box, turning it back and forth.  Fraggit, Prowl’s address would be on it and then the mech would come return it, make it awkward and ask questions and-

He was opening the box and lifting the helmphones out, turning them over.

Fraggit!  Now the mech was stealing his helmphones too!  Prowl seethed behind his door.

The musician held them in his serovs and then -

-pressed them to his spark with a sob?

“Thank you,” he whispered, looking around.  Prowl pulled back, closing the door until just a strand of the hallways was visible.  What the pit was going on?

He waited until he heard the door slide shut and lock before he closed his own.

That night he laid awake.  The silence was strangely uncomfortable.

0-0-0

The knock came the next evening, just as Prowl had dreaded.  He considered pretending he wasn’t home, but the mech had seen him - he knew Prowl wasn’t driving off anywhere.  Scrap.

He was in his chair already so he pinged the door open.

Jazz looked smaller today, his shoulders rounded and his servos clutched together in front of him.  He smiled, weakly.

“Ya got a minute ta talk?”

“Yes,” he answered stiffly.  Scrap, he was dreading this.  

Jazz shuffled forwards.  “Do ya mind if I sit?”  Prowl shook his helm and Jazz settled on the couch just like Alchemy had.

(It felt different though, from when Alchemy had done it.)

“I jus’ wanted ta say…thank ya for the helmphones.  An’ I’m sorry.  I was sitting here thinkin’ ya were - but I guess you’re not.  Didn’t think ya’d do somethin’ like that for me.  Thought ya hated me.”

Ah.  So he did think the helmphones were a present for him.  At least it solved his problem.

(Did it?)

“You do the radio ’m guessing,” Jazz continued, gesturing to it, to Prowl’s confusion.  “I thought about getting one after I saw your’s, but…  That would be too much like admitting it, if I bought it, ya know?  Not sure why.”

Now he was lost.

“For me, for me I keep hearing his voice, ya know?  Oh, sorry,” he said at Prowl’s probably obvious puzzlement.  “My twin, um, slag this is hard, and it’s been six months.”  He closed his optics and vented slowly.  Prowl realized it was the same venting his therapist had tried to teach him.  He opened his optics.

“My brother died of an overdose six months ago.”

“Oh.”

“It wasn’t really a surprise,” Jazz said, hurriedly.  “We’d known for a while that he wasn’t going ta his meetings an’ he wasn’t speaking wit’ his therapist.  Towards the end he was angry all the time.  He wanted us ta stop tryin’ ta help, wanted us ta stop pityin’ him, wanted the drugs more than anything else.  Got the call at night.”

“So you play at night,” Prowl found himself saying before he could stop himself.  “Because you can hear the comm ping if you don’t.”

(I hear them calling for backup.  I hear Strongarm trying to stop the energon.)

“Yep.  Can’t - can’t stand the silence anymore.  I can’t give myself too much room ta think most ‘a the time.  So…thank you.”

Oh.  Jazz played his music at night so he thought Prowl had given him the helmphones to help.

(Jazz played his music at night for the same reason Prowl couldn’t stop sanding and painting and listening to his radio.)

Prowl felt a stab of guilt, but pushed it away.  Besides, it all ended well.  Now Jazz could leave him alone and he would have the quiet again.

(He hated it.)

“I’m glad they helped,” he said, hoping to end the conversation.

(But what if they kept talking?  Maybe he wanted that.)

Jazz didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave.  He wrapped his arms around himself and leaned back against the couch cushions.

“Yeah.  I jus’ wanted ta say, too - it’s okay if ya need ta ya want ta play ya radio louder.  That is, if ya need ta take ya time wit’ it all.  My friends don’ really get it, ya know?  They think I need to move on.  I think it’s probably the same for you, isn’t it?  It’s a whole tangled thing - it’s him and it’s all the stuff we never got ta do together and it’s having to look normal when ya not.”

“I don’t - “ Prowl started to say.

(He did.)

“I mean, I know he wasn’t the best of bots,” Jazz said, his voice edging closer to a sob, rough and trembling.  “But he was my brother.  I - I miss him.”

“Of course,” Prowl said quietly, “he was your brother.”

Jazz nodded and gripped his arms hard, servos denting the metal.

“I thought maybe if I moved outta Polyhex, away from where we’d always been together, I could at least not see his ghost ‘round every corner.  Guess I didn’t realize ya bring ya ghosts wit’ ya.”

Prowl knew that feeling - wanting to get away from the tragedy - drive until he could outrun it.

“And, well -” Jazz’s laugh turned into a sob.  “I didn’t realize how much work grief was.”

Prowl remembered the therapist’s words, right after they realized his injury couldn’t be fixed.

“It will take time.  Grief is work.”

He flinched away from the memory.

“I just wanted it to be over.  I jus’ wanna stop bein’ sad all a’ the time.”

“I don’t.”  Oh.  That was him.  Blurry optics looked up and Prowl felt something twist in his spark again.  “I’m so angry I can barely think in the mornings.  I don’t want to be over it - I don’t want this to be my new normal.  I want my life back.”  A sob escaped the lockbox of his spark - slag, he hadn't cried about this.  He wasn't going to cry about this.

(He wanted to.)

“I’m not going to get it back.”  

There he’d said it.  His therapist would be pleased.  It changed nothing.

(He felt different.)

“I wanna go back ta when me n’ Rico were bitlets.  I want it to all be easy again.”

Prowl (understood) - he understood.

(His spark hurt but it was a new hurt)

A new hurt.  It felt like having a gash welded.  Like 

(Like healing?)  Like healing.

Prowl stood up.  It was shaky and inelegant and it was nothing like how he used to be able to spring to his pedes.  He still did it.

He took two steps and fell onto the couch next to Jazz.  What was he doing?  He held out his servo - he held open his arms - and Jazz turned to him.

At least they could grieve together.

0-0-0

Time passed.  They spent it together.

0-0-0

“I promise.”

“Unless you are in possession of mind control powers I am unaware of, you cannot make that promise.”

“Okay, I promise if it gets awkward and people start starin’ at ya, I will announce that I am engaged ta a Vosian Prince an’ we’re adoptin’ a Quintesson ta complete our family.”

Prowl snorted and readjusted the stabilizing extensions that looped from his wrists down to the ground, ending in rubber tips.  He didn’t want to use them, but if he was going to walk down to the outdoor market with Jazz he would need to.

The market itself was a shock.  It had been so long since he’d left his habsuite for more than a medical appointment.  Seeing so many bots moving around had been a welcome sensory explosion.  They were loud - he could hear half a dozen accents and everyone was talking - about the food, about the art, about the nice weather.  He had to move carefully as the flow of bots from stall to stall changed - sparklings darting out and bots calling their friends over.

The canes…helped.  He was surprised how much more steady he felt with them.  The only time he’d used them was in the physical therapist’s small office.

He didn’t realize how much faster he would be with them either.

“Prowl, slow down!”  He looked back and saw Jazz chasing after him with a cream bun in each servo.

“Captain Prowl?” He spun around, his spark twisting.

“Hello Strongarm, Chase, Knock-about.”

It felt like stepping back into his life.  He was Captain Prowl, whether or not he could walk or transform.  He was their Captain.

Strongarm was shifting back and forth.  She’d been his second, his strong right servo.  She was probably up for promotion to his position.  He was so slagging proud of her.

“Sir?  Are you alright?”

“I am, Strongarm.  I’m glad to see you.”  He smiled.  How long had it been since he’d smiled?

Knock-about, true to his designation, took that as permission to thump! into him and try to squeeze the spark out of him like a tube of grease.

“Knocky!”  Strongarm was trying to scold him, but Chase was right behind him, thudding into Prowl’s other side.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” he wailed, face buried in Prowl’s shoulder.

That had been exactly what he’d said after Prowl had woken up.

“Chase!  You’ll knock him over!”  Strongarm was there suddenly and all Prowl could do was smile at her.  He looked down and laid a servo on Chase’s bent helm and said the words he hadn't been able to then.

“I’m going to be okay, Chase, Knock-about.  It’ll be alright.”

He looked up and caught Jazz’s optic.

“Come meet my new neighbor.  He’s a musician.”