#Soundproof Window Panel

[noiseproblems]

Can You Soundproof Sliding Glass Door

In the crazy rush of regular life, it is so vital to have some serenity and peace in our workplaces and homes, right? I mean who doesn’t want a bit of serenity? This is where soundproofing comes in. It is a major deal for businesses and homes also, specifically speaking of your sliding glass doors. This is why you have to Soundproof sliding glass door.

The tempt of sliding doors lie not only in their aesthetic appeal but also in their functionality. Nonetheless, accomplishing soundproofing in these dynamic doors imposes unique challenges.

Challenges to soundproof accordion doors and sliding doors

The idea to soundproof accordion doors or sliding doors involves navigation of a set of challenges that are inherent in their design. The seamless gliding mechanism, while visually enticing, can enable sound waves to get pathways, creating a possible acoustic challenge.

Possibility for soundproofing

In spite of these challenges, there exists a realm of possibilities for improving the soundproofing features of sliding doors. Development in materials and technology has paved the way for creative solutions. Knowing the aspects that impact soundproofing efficiency is vital. From the choice of materials to installation method, every aspect is conducive to the overall acoustic performance of the sliding doors and also to soundproof window panel.

Conclusion

So, in a nutshell, delving into the world of sliding doors and soundproofing have provided us some eye-openers on making our workplaces and homes peaceful. We looked at the challenges and ways to harness them, from cool new designs to better materials.

As you soundproof underlay to venture on a journey to a serene place, the tricks of soundproofing, the essence of good materials, and how professional installation can make a difference.

Our team of experts are ready to offer customized solutions and advice to meet your unique requirements.

[hsmagazine254]

Soundproofing Secrets: Enhancing Your Off-plan Property While Under Construction

Soundproofing Symphony: Elevating Your Off-plan Property Purchasing an off-plan property opens up a world of exciting possibilities, allowing you to customize your future abode to match your dream home vision. One crucial element often overlooked during this phase is soundproofing. Whether you’re a fan of serene quietude or simply wish to shield your space from external disturbances, integrating…

[ilovemilestellersmoustache]

is it chill that you’re in my head?

Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts!reader

Summary: You’ve been alone all your life so moving into a tower of people who considered each other family wasn’t ideal, already not being able to spark a connection with anyone you were alone most of the time searching for the feeling of home… Then again do you really know what that feels like? Maybe not until a late night accidental meeting with the most timid member fills you with nothing but these so called sparks.

WC: 2.1K

The Thunderbolts Tower didn’t exactly feel like home.

It had walls, sure. Expensive ones. Reinforced steel, soundproof panels, panic rooms tucked behind sliding concrete. It had amenities too, an espresso machine Yelena had nearly gone to war for, a rooftop garden Alexei insisted needed “more nature” a gym Bucky used at 3 a.m. when he thought no one was watching.

But it didn’t feel like home. Not in the way people always talked about it in books and movies. The way they described a home as something you felt comfortable in, regardless the place. This… This place to you was shelter. A bunker. A glorified holding cell for the world’s sharpest, most broken tools.

Home had always been a delicate concept to you. Something you brushed against in dreams and woke up aching from.

You weren’t built for places like this. Maybe if really was just shelter to the rest of the team, you wouldn’t feel like you were alone.

You moved like smoke and silence, with eyes that had seen too much and lips that rarely curled into something that resembled softness. You haunted hallways instead of walking them. Shadows slipped around your shoulders like a second skin. And even though no one ever said it out loud, you knew what they whispered when they thought you couldn’t hear:

“She doesn’t sleep.”

“She never eats with us.”

“Doesn’t even flinch when Alexei sets off the dummy mines…”

You weren’t cruel. Just… quiet. Always on the outside looking in. Ava was the only one who tried sometimes passing you energy drinks like peace offerings, leaning against walls near you without pushing conversation. Even then, her ghost skin sometimes glitched if your gaze lingered too long.

So you stayed to yourself. Up late. Headphones in. Music low enough to hear your own heartbeat, just loud enough to drown the past.

Until that night.

⸻

It was the kind of night that pressed against the windows like breath, thick and humid, the air barely cool enough to pass for midnight. The city was still awake below, glowing soft and gold, like someone forgot to dim the lights before sleep.

Bob Reynolds hadn’t meant to leave his room.

He was used to the nightmares by now. Most of them started the same, the Void dragging his name across black skies like a warning, cold sweat trickling down his neck, the echo of screams that had long since blurred into static. He usually stayed curled up on the edge of his mattress, white knuckled and wide eyed, talking himself back from wherever he was. The Other.

But tonight, the weight was heavier. He could feel it clawing under his ribs, thick as tar, breathing down his neck.

So he ran.

Barefoot, hoodie half zipped over his threadbare sleep shirt, hands still trembling from the remnants of the dark. He didn’t even realize he was heading for the roof until he felt the air shift. Third floor, westside. The door creaked open, and—

There you were.

Perched on the ledge knees tucked to your chest, one headphone in, hair stirring slightly in the breeze, swimming in dark jeans and sweater a colour of blue he’s never seen. The moonlight poured over you like it had been waiting all night just for this moment, soft silver across your cheekbone, dancing along your collarbone. You looked like a memory. Or maybe something from one of his dreams, the rare kind that didn’t end in screaming.

You barely glanced at him.

Not startled. Not wary. Just… curious. Then you looked back at the skyline like he was nothing more than another part of the silence.

Bob froze.

He hadn’t seen you like this. No one had. You were a myth at best. A name on a file at worst. A flash of movement out of the corner of a bloodied mission. But this? This was something else.

Still, you didn’t move.

Didn’t disappear into smoke or shadows. Didn’t pull a knife or raise an eyebrow or ask what he was doing there.

Instead, you pulled one earbud out, a gentle movement, deliberate, like offering someone the last piece of chocolate without saying a word.

“…Can’t sleep either?”

Your voice was softer than he expected. Nothing like the precision of your fighting or the clipped orders you gave on missions. It was fragile. A little sad. And something about it made something in him crack.

“…No,” Bob said quietly. “Nightmares.”

You nodded once. Just enough to say I know.

And then you did something that made his heart ache a little.

You patted the space beside you.

He walked over slowly, cautiously, as if he might spook you. But you didn’t flinch. Didn’t vanish.

And when he sat beside you, legs dangling off the ledge, hands tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie… he realized something.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, he wasn’t the most dangerous thing in the room. (At least felt like it)

But for the first time, that didn’t terrify him.

It comforted him.

Because beside you, wrapped in moonlight and a silence that felt like safety, Bob Reynolds didn’t feel like a monster.

He felt human.

And somehow, that felt like the most dangerous thing of all.

⸻

It became a pattern.

Not the kind that wore out, not the kind that dulled with repetition… But the kind you traced with your fingers in the dark, over and over, just to remind yourself it was real.

Every night, like clockwork, around 1:30 a.m., your phone would buzz. Your phone lights up your nightstand in the black more than the actual lamp.

Roof?

Just one word. No punctuation. No signature. As if he knew and maybe he did, that anything more might scare it all away.

You never replied.

You didn’t have to.

Five, sometimes ten minutes later, you’d climb the stairs barefoot, hoodie half zipped, music still humming low in one ear. There was never an announcement, no grand entrances. You just… appeared. Like the breeze. Like the hush before rain.

Bob would already be there. Perched on the ledge or leaned back against the wall, that soft, faraway look in his eyes like he was already a million miles into his own head.

And you’d sit beside him, not touching, not asking.

Just existing together in the quiet.

It became your rhythm.

Two ghosts in the night, finding each other again and again.

You talked.

Just thinking of all the fun things you guys could do. Sometimes it was nonsense, constellations, movie soundtracks and why Alexei even insisted on a garden if he won’t tend it. Other times, it cut deep. He told you about the Void and how it felt like being strangled by your own reflection. You told him about the first life you ever took, how the blood didn’t scare you, but the stillness afterward did.

“I didn’t flinch,” you’d whispered, like it was a confession.

He hadn’t judged. Just nodded, like he understood that kind of stillness.

He told you he liked your laugh.

The way it caught in your throat and crinkled the corners of your eyes, like you were surprised by the sound.

You told him you liked his voice low, patient, like warm hands wrapping around your ribcage and holding everything inside together.

And slowly, so slowly, something inside you began to thaw.

Like frost giving way to spring.

⸻

By daylight, you were still the same.

Guarded. Sharp edged. Vanishing before anyone could hold on too long. When John teased or Alexei roared with that too-loud, too-big laughter, you smirked, nodded, and slipped out of the room like you’d never been there.

But Bob noticed the changes.

The subtle ones.

Sticky notes on the fridge reminding him to get the oat milk he liked. An extra tea packet slipped beside his thermos. Your hair which you’d always tied back with clinical precision, now down more often, curling in the wind just like it had that night on the roof when he’d told you it looked soft.

He noticed everything.

And your phone…

It didn’t just light up your nightstand anymore.

It lit up you. Your heart. Your whole damn being.

Sometimes, when you were alone in the lull between missions, curled on top of too-starched sheets, you found yourself replaying his voice like a secret song you weren’t supposed to know the lyrics to.

You caught yourself smiling.

“Sometimes I wonder,” you whispered to no one in particular, “when you sleep… are you ever dreaming of me?”

You hated that you felt like this.

You weren’t supposed to.

This was a foreign feeling. Truth be told you didn’t really know what it was, just that you’ve never felt this good, this nice. People like you didn’t get nice. Didn’t get soft or safe or whole. You were a blade, and blades didn’t get to love things. They cut them.

But still. You relay the echoes of his footsteps coming up the roof stairs. You wanted long nights with his hands up in your hair… Just want him to stay with you and not share him.

Every night when that single word lit up your screen, your heart raced like it had something to lose.

⸻

And then came the night everything shifted.

You’d been laughing, breathless, aching laughter about nothing at all. Something he said. Or maybe it was the way he’d said it. His hoodie was too big on him, his hair curling at the ends from rooftop humidity, his eyes glowing soft in the starlight like he’d swallowed a sunbeam.

And suddenly, your laughter faded.

You just looked at him.

Watched him in that long, quiet way that made the air feel thinner, like the moment itself was fragile and sacred. You memorized every inch, the scar on his chin, the faint stubble on his jaw, the way he sat so still like he didn’t want to startle the peace between you.

Your voice barely made it above the wind.

“Sometimes…” you breathed, “when I look into your eyes… I pretend you’re mine.”

The silence cracked.

“All the damn time.”

Bob blinked. Like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right.

You laughed, soft, nervous, filled with static.

“Is it cool I said all that?” you rushed. “Is it chill that you’re in my head? I know this is all… delicate. But I think about you all the time. And I know you probably don’t feel—”

You didn’t get to finish.

He kissed you.

Gentle. Unrushed. The kind of kiss that felt like a question. Like he was afraid of breaking something sacred.

And when you kissed him back, your hands in his hair and his breath catching against your lips it didn’t feel like fire.

It felt like falling.

Like walking into the sea and letting it swallow you whole.

When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours.

“I’ve been dreaming about you,” he whispered.

“Every night. Even when I’m awake.”

⸻

Yelena was the first to know.

You came to training the next morning late, hair slightly windblown, smile lingering at the edges of your lips like a secret you weren’t quite ready to share.

“She’s glowing,” Yelena muttered to Ava, who gave a smirk that said finally.

Even Bucky, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow when he saw Bob in the hallway.

“So…you and our little shadow, huh?”

Bob turned the color of his hoodie. But he didn’t deny it.

No one teased. Not really. Maybe they all understood something unspoken:

That sometimes, the softest things grow in the harshest places.

That even steel can bloom if you leave it in the right hands.

⸻

Now, some nights, you still go to the roof.

But you don’t leave alone.

Bob’s already there, hoodie sleeves too long, arms open, waiting like you’re the only thing he’s ever waited for.

You crawl into them like you belong there. Because maybe, just maybe, you do.

The city hums below.

The stars blink above.

And somewhere between everything you were taught not to want and everything you’ve dared to feel, you realize—

Your reputation’s never been worse.

But when he looks at you like you hung the damn moon?

He must like you for you.

And no, you can’t promise this will last. You can’t promise you’ll survive this world with all your pieces intact. You don’t know if happy endings are real for people like you.

But maybe that’s what makes it matter.

The most delicate thing in the world…

is choosing someone in the dark,

and letting them love the parts you were sure no one ever would.

And he does.

Night after night, word after word, kiss after kiss.

Bob Reynolds loves you like it’s the only truth left in the world.

And you’re finally letting him.

⸻

A/N: Uh so if theres like a part here where it looks like its missing a paragraph or sum lemme know bc my tumblr has been acting nuts and i had to lay this out like 100 times and i genuinely cannot read this one more time again I’m crashing out

[imma-soft-beeboy]

A/N: You probably thought I didn't see this, but I did. Ngl I don't have a strong attachment to my sperm donor so you can keep him lmfao. I do have a soft spot for Bumblebee so here's the 3k :)))) Hope you enjoy! @amityax

WARNINGS: Reader gets kidnapped by cons, mildy tortured, almost suffocated, then held hostage. Brief mention of death, possible aerophobia/acrophobia trigger, infirmary stay, mild angst

[ Just Another Meet Cute ] Bee x Reader - Word Count: 3k

One minute, you had been minding your own business, walking to the nearby corner store, and the next, you were trapped in the cockpit of a transforming jet. All you had wanted to do was make a ‘girl dinner,’ and now you were being kidnapped by a living jet. You wished you were joking, or even dreaming, but you weren’t. You had pinched yourself to be sure. This jet had landed in the alley next to you before transforming into a giant robot to snatch you.

You had tried to scream for help, but the robot had covered your mouth quickly before throwing you in its soundproof cockpit. So here you are now kicking like your life depended on it –and it very well might have– because your throat was too raw to scream anymore. Based on the grunts coming from the machine, your kicks were at least hurting it a little, and that gave you enough motivation to continue. 

After tiring of kicking the floor, you decided to raise your legs and start kicking anything your legs could reach. The windows, the control panel, anything was free game. “Let. Me. Go,” your voice rasped. There was no response as the jet kept flying, so you decided to spit on their inner windshield. This got a response. The jet transformed into its robot form mid-flight, allowing you to drop a few feet before catching you by the ankle in a jarring save. It continued flying through the air, its feet housing boosters. You felt your joints strain in protest, pain blooming as the machine grasped you, holding you miles above ground.

“Fowl little thing,” it seethed at you. Its voice caught you off guard, and you tried to scream again, except the air up here was thin. Quickly, you realized you couldn’t breathe.

“I… can’t breath-e,” you coughed feebly, wiggling in the thing's grasp. Looking down at you, the robot transformed back to a jet, throwing you back into its cockpit again. 

“Be good, I won’t be so nice the second time,” the thing warned before falling back into silence. After falling back against the seat with a thump, you inhaled the filtered air greedily. Your head was swimming, you weren’t sure how much longer you would have lasted. Once the burning in your lungs had subsided, you risked glancing through the window over the side of the jet. The world below looked like ants, and was reeling by at an alarming speed.

Defeated, the reality of the situation was closing in on you. You had been kidnapped, no one had seen it happen, and this robot was much stronger than you, leaving you at its whim. Who knew where you were going, or if it planned on keeping you alive. Tears started to slide down your cheeks as ugly sobs racked your chest. You cried until you had no tears left.

You weren’t sure how long the thing flew for, but eventually it started its descent. A strangely shaped rock became bigger through the windshield. Suddenly, it hit you that it wasn’t a rock at all, but a metallic base meant to look like the surrounding desertscape. It was this thing's home base. Did this count as abduction? Giggling hysterically at your joke, you thought it out. An unknown creature had taken you, put you in a flying object, and whisked you away to its foreign base. Yeah, that sounded like abduction. Maybe it was going to probe you next.

Still laughing maniacally, you felt your body lurch as the thing transformed around you to land. It landed on its feet, holding you at arm's length away from itself. A hidden door on the side of the base opened, flooding your eyes with the sight of many more robots, some of them corralling humans of their own. You gasped. How many people had they kidnapped?! The other robots looked up as the one holding you entered. “Blitswing,” one called, “well done. With your contribution, I believe we’ll have enough hostages to enact our plan. I’ll go hail Prime now.”

Being roughly thrown in a cage with the other humans, you grunted with pain. Clearly, they didn’t understand much about humans if they were handling you with such force. You would have bruises everywhere and be sore for days. The surrounding people didn’t look much better, only further proving your theory.

“Do you really think Optimus Prime will save some random humans,” one of the robots who got stuck guarding them asked.

“He cares too much about protecting life not to, it would be impossible for him to resist twenty human lives at risk.” You gulped in quiet panic. Whatever they had planned sounded awful; you really hoped this Prime guy had what it took to save you all. Since escape was impossible in your current situation, you decided to sit on the floor; others followed suit. You were tired and drained; the least you could do was make yourself comfy until something happened.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you remember was the cage moving. Waking with a start at the movement, your eyes darted around trying to figure out what was happening. They had connected chains to the cage, allowing them to lift it in their jet forms. Now they were flying it low over the desert, most likely to whatever designated meeting spot they had set up with ‘Prime.’ This definitely counted as abduction in your book, and abduction was not on your bingo card for this year. In fact, none of this was. Not the abduction, or the hostage situation, or alien giant robots; all of it you could have done without.

After traveling an undetermined amount of distance, the cage you were in was dropped in the middle of nowhere. There was desert as far as the eye could see. But you supposed they needed remoteness to remain hidden. So what happens now, you thought to yourself, before you spotted movement on the horizon.

Cars. 

There were cars driving toward you, and you found yourself not surprised. Of course, ‘Prime’ was just another one of these alien robots. And of course, he would bring backup. Watching you counted about a dozen of them. They drove until they were almost upon you, then they transformed. Looking at them, you admired how diverse they were, much like humans. Green, white, blue, scuffed, polished, heavy duty, sporty. You found yourself admiring their fixtures, they were all so different and futuristic. 

It was fascinating, and frankly, made you momentarily feel cool. Like one big sci-fi movie, you briefly dreamt of being sworn to secrecy and befriending these giants. With these thoughts fresh in your mind, you concluded you must be in shock. Why else would you be considering an alien race that had involved you in their conflict as a hostage, neat?

Suddenly, a scraping sound broke you from your reverie. Turning to look, you spotted a robot slowly trying to pick the lock on the cage, there were two more behind him, covering his back. They were trying to steal you from the back while Prime distracted your captors! You clapped a hand over your mouth to hide your excitement, memorizing their look so you could thank them later. V-shaped glasses, short yellow, bulky red.

Others around you started to notice what was going on as well. Red –behind V-Shaped-Glasses, who was picking the lock– brought his finger up to his mouth in a quiet motion, and the other humans stilled. With a nod, they went back to work. Before you count to sixty, the lock had sprung open, and they started slowly pulling out humans.

They loaded people into Red first; its large, open floor van form taking most of the prisoners. Next was Short-Yellow, which transformed into a VW Bug, which you found weirdly fitting. Short with a cute vehicle form. V-Shaped-Glasses grabbed more prisoners, including you, to load into Short-Yellow. Surprisingly, the large robot was very gentle with you, minding your size and squishiness compared to it. It was a nice change from how the jet had handled you earlier.

Once your group was loaded in Short-Yellow like sardines, V-Shaped-Glasses put the last few prisoners into him. (Which turned into a sleek Pontiac.) With all three cars now nearly bursting with people, they peeled out. Dust flying, and your heart in your throat –because you had actually escaped– you let out another hysterical laugh. However, the laughter was short-lived as gunshots rang out.

“Fuck,” you screamed, along with others, as Short-Yellow started a serpentine maneuver.

“Everybody relax,” its voice came over the radio to address the group, “the others are returning fire. It should give us enough cover to get you all to safety.” Nodding to yourself, you looked out the window. If you didn’t pretend to believe him in this moment, you were going to lose it. All around you, lasers hit the sand, causing it to puff up in clouds of dirt. And for the first time this entire ordeal, you blacked out.

When you woke, you were being held by a white robot with red hands. You screamed, kicking at his thumb. The last thing you remembered was being sandwiched in Short-Yellow, now, where were you? Eyes darting around, you took in the room around you. It looked to be some type of infirmary. The bot holding you bore the medical red cross symbol.

“Easy there, spitfire, just looking you over,” the red and white robot soothed.

“W-where am I?”

“At base, Bumblebee seemed to think you needed extra aid,” the robot responded coolly. His tone soothing you some.

��Bumble-? Short Yellow?” The medical robot laughed at your nickname for Bumblebee as it placed you on a metal bed.

“Yes, Bumblebee was worried about you passing out. He has a soft spot for humans.” It grabbed a device and used it to scan you. “And before you give me some colorful nickname, my name is Ratchet.” This was the first moment it occurred to you that these things –robots– might be fully sentient. They had names, lives, and personalities; they were nothing like Earth robots. They were living.

“So are you guys living robots,” you asked as Ratchet looked at the results on his device. He looked up from his device at you, furrowing his brow.

“Robotic organisms, made from living metal, hailing from a distant planet. But yes, if you wish to dumb it down, we are living robots.” In the same breath, he added, “your heart rate and blood pressure seem elevated, is that normal?” His face clearly bloomed with worry.

“It is when you get kidnapped by an alien race,” you replied. Rolling his eyes, Ratchet started setting up a bed with comfy human things. A blanket, pillow, water, and he even dimmed the lights for you.

“Well, in that case, I must recommend you rest,” he shot back before turning away to perform other duties. You settled into the little nest he had made for you, sipping the water. You momentarily wondered how they knew what humans needed or liked, but decided it wasn’t important. You were dead tired and weren’t going to look a gifted horse in the mouth. Just as you had gotten completely comfortable in your space, the infirmary door opened, and in walked Bumblebee.

“Short Yellow,” you called before you could stop yourself. Somewhere behind you, you hear Ratchet chorkle.

“You’re awake,” Bumblebee cheered, speeding up his pace to get to you. “You looked so pale there for a while.” He poked at you gently, doing his own inspection of your form.

“Yeah, doc just says I need to chill out,” you reassured, then quickly added, “cause you know, stress is bad for humans.” You still weren’t entirely sure what they did and didn’t know about humans, but Bumblebee nodded. His lips formed a straight line.

“Right, right; I forget how fragile your species is.” Bumblebee lowered himself to your level, holding out his hand gingerly, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” you smiled at him, placing your hand in his, “for everything.”

He squeezed your hand, “just doing my job.”

~~~~~

Ratchet forced you to stay in the Autobots' infirmary for three days until he was happy with your vitals. He kept going on about something called hypertension, but by day two, you were getting a touch of cabin fever. Luckily, throughout it all, Bumblebee visited you every day. Somedays he’d bring other bots to introduce you to, and others he’d spend hours explaining things. By the end of the three days, you were a self-proclaimed Cybertronian expert. 

Honestly, your favorite part of the visits wasn’t the answers or the extra visitors, it was seeing Bumblebee's cute faceplate. Seeing him caused your face to light up in a way that had the base buzzing with rumors. You were obsessed, and everyone could tell. In fact, they were taking bets on how quickly you two would become an item.

On the day of your discharge, you were waiting anxiously on your medbay berth (Bumblebee had taught you those terms) when he walked in. “What's happening today, Short Stuff?”

“I'm being released,” you beamed up at him, and he grinned back. As if on cue, Ratchet came over to give you one last scan, nodding the all clear.

“Primus, I thought you'd in here forever! Now I can finally show you the rest of the base,” Bumblebee pumped his fists in excitement. Jumping up, you made grabby hands at Bee so he'd help you off the berth. He did so with such ease that it made you feel fuzzy with adoration. Once you were firmly on your own two feet, he started walking, you following along behind him.

It was easy to keep up with the little bot. You weren't sure if it was because of his minibot size or if he was shortening his stride for you. Either way, you were grateful. Then you imagined trying to keep up with some of the bigger bots in base and shivered. Hopefully, they would be kind enough to pick you up, cause you would hate to have to jog.

As you followed him, Bumble droned off locations within the base. Obviously, you had seen the medical bay, but there was so much more you hadn't seen. Wheeljack's Lab, their habsuites, an exercise room, storage, and the hub. 

This place was huge.

The hub was a large open area with one wall covered in a command board and display feature. It looked very Star-Trek-space-shippy to you. But it also, somehow, had the vibe of a living room, and housed most of the Autobots in that moment. Everyone looked up as Bumblebee entered the hub with you and gave a small chorus of remarks.

Giggling at their jokes, you looked up at the group and joked back, “it's nice to be let out of prison.” They all laughed at your little dramatic quip before you felt yourself being picked up. You let out a short scream that caused the group to laugh some more.

“Easy, Small Fry,” Bumblebee soothed before placing you on his shoulder. “I just didn't want you straining your neck to look up at us.” Settling into your spot, you let out a dramatic huff.

“Give some warning next time before you manhandle someone, okay?” Another round of gut-busting chortles rang out around the hub as you pushed against his cheek playfully. Rolling his optics, Bumblebee reached up to playfully poke you in return, causing you to squirm & slap at his finger. Once the laughter from the other bots died down, they watched the interaction with knowing looks. Oh yeah, they were down bad for each other. It was only a matter of time.

“Hey, Bee, Prime wants to see you and the human ASAP,” Jazz said as he entered the space. You and Bee looked at each other; what could Prime want?

Shrugging, Bee replied, “alright,” before heading off towards Optimus Prime's private quarters. Clenching and unclenching your hands, you tried to wipe the sweat off them. You were nervous.

Knocking before entering, Bumblebee made his way to stand in front of Optimus. Dropping his data pad the Prime looked at the two of you before addressing both of you. 

“I would like to apologize on behalf of the Cybertronian race for the things the Decepticons have done to you. They have strayed far from the path of righteousness. Their actions seemed to have struck you to your core and left you unwell for days; as a sign of good faith, I allowed Ratchet to nurse you back to health. Now that you are better, I ask that we part ways, for both our sakes. Being affiliated with us would prove too great a risk, and pulling from our ranks for your protection would be too time-consuming. I have been told the hostages were selected at random, meaning your life will be at no further risk.”

“But,” Bumblebee started.

“You will be sworn to secrecy and asked to take your knowledge to your grave,” Optimus continued on. “I will permit Bumblebee to take you home, and after that, we will never enter your life again. Things, as you know them, will go back to normal. Do you both understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you and Bumblebee spoke in unison.

“Excellent. Bumblebee, please take the human home and say your goodbyes, it's for the best.”

Nodding Bumblebee set you down before transforming into his alt form. “In you go,” he said, swinging open his door. You climbed in solemnly. As he drove out of the base, you sadly rubbed the inside of his door.

“I can't believe I'll never see you again,” you huffed.

“As far as Prime knows,” Bumblebee shot back.

“What?”

“As far as Prime knows,” Bee restated, “and what he doesn't know won't kill him.” You smiled widely, patting his inner door now, as you imagined all the secret meetings you two would have.

[reyaint]

the academy | looks

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date: march 16, 2025. i slept through the storm

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✧˖*°࿐ The Exterior

𓂃༊ Veltrius Lumos Academy’s campus is a harmonious blend of classical elegance, modern innovation, and natural beauty. the school’s design draws inspiration from historical universities, sleek contemporary architecture, and rich organic elements like wood, stone, and glass. every corner of the campus has a sense of purpose, aesthetic appeal, and prestige, creating an environment that encourages both learning and personal growth.

𓂃༊ the campus is vast but interconnected, with stone pathways lined with lanterns, ivy-covered buildings, and wide-open spaces for students to relax and socialize. natural lighting is a key feature across the campus, ensuring that classrooms, libraries, and social spaces feel bright, airy, and inspiring.

✧˖*°࿐ The Rooftop and Garden

*ೃ༄Rooftop

𓂃༊ the rooftop garden is a hidden gem of Veltrius Lumos Academy, providing a peaceful retreat above the city. designed to be both aesthetic and functional, this space is used for relaxation, quiet study sessions, and small social gatherings.

𓂃༊ the rooftop garden offers a quiet escape, with vines creeping along the railings, comfortable seating areas, and a view of the city skyline

*ೃ༄Garden

𓂃༊ the gardens are lush and immaculately maintained, featuring a grand stone fountain at the center, stone pathways, and benches for relaxation.

✧˖*°࿐ The Greenhouse

𓂃༊ the greenhouse complex is expansive and serene, consisting of multiple glass-paneled structures framed with wood and stone. hanging plants drape from the ceilings, and stone pathways wind through exotic flora, medicinal herbs, and student-grown botanical projects.

𓂃༊ a small water feature runs through one of the largest greenhouses, creating a peaceful ambiance. This space is used for biology classes, plant studies, and quiet study sessions.

✧˖*°࿐ The Entrance

𓂃༊ upon entering the academy, students are greeted by a breathtaking glass-ceiling walkway, allowing natural light to pour in. ivy drapes over elegant archways, and potted greenery lines the sides, enhancing the academic and tranquil atmosphere.

𓂃༊ marble and dark wood details give the entrance a classic academia feel, while sleek, modern lighting fixtures illuminate the space at night, casting a warm golden glow. the entrance immediately establishes the prestige of Veltrius while maintaining a welcoming, inspiring aura.

✧˖*°࿐ Hallways

✧˖*°࿐ Bathrooms

✧˖*°࿐ The Classrooms

𓂃༊ the classrooms vary between high school and college-style, with some featuring tiered seating, and others structured for roundtable discussions. most have large windows, allowing in ample natural light, with rich wood paneling, deep-colored walls, and elegant yet modern furniture.

𓂃༊ each classroom reflects its subject—literature classes have ornate bookcases, science classrooms have sleek lab stations, and philosophy or history classrooms are adorned with historical maps and framed classical artwork.

*ೃ༄Science Lab

*ೃ༄Classrooms

✧˖*°࿐ The Art and Music Studios

*ೃ༄The Art Studios

𓂃༊ art studios are expansive and filled with natural light, with paint-splattered wooden floors, massive canvases, and large windows that overlook the gardens. wooden easels, stone sculptures, and modern drafting tables fill the space, providing students with the ideal creative environment.

*ೃ༄The Music Studios

𓂃༊ music rooms are soundproofed, sleek, and modern, with grand pianos, violin stands, and digital composition equipment. there are practice booths for solo rehearsals as well as a large orchestral rehearsal space.

*ೃ༄The Dance Studios

𓂃༊ dance studios feature wall-length mirrors, wooden flooring, and high ceilings, with light pouring in from floor-to-ceiling windows. soft drapes give the space an ethereal touch, and seating areas are available for observation and critique sessions.

✧˖*°࿐ The Library

𓂃༊ a multi-floor, grand library that is a blend of dark and light academia aesthetics. the lower levels feel cozy and historic, with dark oak bookshelves, green reading lamps, and towering bookcases. the upper levels have floor-to-ceiling windows that bathe the space in natural light, complemented by cream-colored walls, soft wooden tables, and modern seating areas.

𓂃༊ individual study rooms with stained glass windows, fireplaces, and soundproof walls allow students to focus in solitude, while communal study tables are arranged for group projects.

✧˖*°࿐ Sports Facilities

*ೃ༄The Gym

𓂃༊ the gymnasium is massive, with a mix of wood and modern white paneling. it houses multiple courts for basketball, volleyball, and indoor sports.

*ೃ༄The Pool

𓂃༊ the swimming pool is equally grand, featuring a brown wooden ceiling with exposed beams and floor-to-ceiling windows that allow in natural light. the white tile flooring reflects the water, making the space feel bright and open.

*ೃ༄The Lockerooms

𓂃༊ the locker rooms are pristine and spacious, fitting the academy’s prestigious reputation. marble and dark wood details, heated floors, and private shower stalls make the space feel luxurious.

✧˖*°࿐ Culinary

𓂃༊ the culinary arts wing of Veltrius is designed to be both professional and welcoming, blending modern kitchen technology with warm, natural elements like wood and stone finishes. the space allows students to hone their cooking skills, experiment with flavors, and develop their craft in an environment that feels both functional and high-end.

✧˖*°࿐ Cafeteria

*ೃ༄Main Cafe

𓂃༊ the cafeteria is modern and sleek, featuring high ceilings, wooden beams, and walls of glass windows that allow in natural light. the white and brown color scheme, complemented by lush indoor plants, creates a warm, inviting atmosphere.

𓂃༊ buffet-style dining with international cuisine, fresh produce, and gourmet student favorites ensures that every student has options that suit their dietary needs.

𓂃༊ third-years are allowed to leave campus during meal breaks to explore the nearby restaurants.

*ೃ༄Campus Cafe

𓂃༊ a smaller, more intimate café located in a quiet corner of the academy, designed for studying and light conversation. Wooden bookshelves, soft lighting, and window-side seating make it the perfect space for students looking to read or work in peace.

𓂃༊ the café serves artisanal coffee, herbal teas, and fresh pastries, making it a favorite spot for late-night study sessions or morning reflections.

[kikorikoiko]

Wrath

Just Shamura being a great sibling! For context, Shamura is 37, Heket 8, Narinder 10, and Leshy is 2 but I made him crawl when he was not even one day old so he can do what he wants.

- Were the hell did those bastards go?- an owl asked, annoyed as she stepped on the cold floor of the sacred place.

- Surely not too far away. They are just kids and the temple is not too big. I am sure we will have their heads on a platter soon enough.- a woodpecker replied, looking around, examining the big dark colons and the few purple drapes hanging on the walls

- I just want to end this. I don't like being here- a robin murmured, as other two birds walk past them, searching for the kids - we should thank Aria that none of War's disciples actually managed to get us, or things woukd had gotten ugly.-

- Come on, Darla!- the woodkeeper smiled as she wrapped an arm around the robin - Even if they did, we could handle them! Aren't we the best, after all?-

- How about you stop wasting time and come here?- she was called out by the swallow examining the altar searching for any clue -I am pretty sure those hellspawns have some kind of panic room or whatever. Do you see anything?- he asked the last member of the group, a canary, who flew near the windows, which were letting in the sunlight.

- Someome is coming- the yellow bird managed to say before the windows suddendly started to be covered in a series of webs, blocking the light.

The temple itself opened its doors, letting inside its rightful owner.

The birds started to fully understand how bad the situation was for them as the doors closed on their own and another set of webs sealed them, cutting off any escape.

- What are they doing here...? Weren't they supposed to be on a mission...?-

The Spider started to get closer, and the others started running, the robin was frozen by fear.

War was towering over her, even if they were a relatively young god, staring down at her with eyes filled with anger.

When they spoke, their voice was cold, apathetic even.

- You broke inside my home, desecrated my temple, attacked my family, and expect me to not find out?-

- We... I... please...- while the assassin tried to find any excuse, or at least the strenght to move, the Spider's was slowly looming over her, their neck starting to grow, the bones in their back starting to move, other sets of limbs starting to push their way out from under their skin.

Their mandibles snapped, a new set of fangs impatient to tear off her head appeared.

- Spare your prayers-

Finally, the adrenaline kicked in and she turned around to run, but the monster did not waste another second before killing her.

The rest of the heretics could only stare in horror as the robin's corpse disappeared immediatly after a few bites, leaving behind just a puddle of blood.

The massacre that followed wasn't a series of sommary executions, or a fight, or really anything the god of Wisdom would had done if they were lucid.

It was messy and it was bloody and the screams of their victims were echoing in the temple as they teared off wings and legs from whenever tried to run.

Feathers, blood, and a spare limb that got thrown in the direction of the altar were all that were left of the sacrifices (sended as a provocation against War itself, no one was actually expecting them to survive), but the Spider was still restless.

They could hear still some heartbeats.

Find

A low, grutturual growl filled the temple as the monster started to search for the source of that  sound.

They stopped in front of a specific section of the walls, that they themselves designed as a soundproof empty chamber hidden from anyone views as a safe location to hide relics.

The Spider quickly managed to destroy the panel, revealing three small creatures behind it.

One was smelling of the blood pouring from a stab wound.

Enemies

The spider hissed once again.

Their enemies did not move.

They barely flinched.

One of the three started crying, and the creature keeping the weeping one by the hand looked at the monster and said something.

That was weird.

Small

Something was off. Even with their mind fogged by the purple crown, they could still notice something was clearly wrong.

Weak

Not armed

Defendless

Sacrifices.

The spider leaned forwards, the blades at the end of their upper set of limbs cutting off any escape

No

They opened their jaws, letting out another battle cry

No, no, stop it! No!

Ready to pounce

No, not them! No!

The Spider hesitated, letting out a perplexed clicking sound, trying to wrap what was left of their mind around  why they still felt like something was wrong.

The crying one was covered in leaves.

Big round eyes.

The smaller of the trio.

The creature holding the crying's one hand was the tallest of the group by little, and tilted his head, flicking his ears with perplexity.

The wounded one had one hand pressed against a recent stabwound in their left arm, and staring at them.

- 'Mura...? Why are you screaming?-

Why were they screaming

Shamura snapped back to reality, and took a step back as they tried to focus.

Slowly, they managed to retake their mortal form, kneeling on the cold stone floor, steading their breath.

They lifted their head, feeling the taste of blood in their mouth.

They were fine.

Narinder was busy murmuring something to Leshy, as Heket got closer to the bloody god.

- 'Mura? Are you okay?-

- I thought you were dead. I thought...- the spider clenched their fists, and forced themselves to stand up - No matter. You're going to the healer immediatly. Does it hurt?-

Heket nodded, letting the spider check her wound.

Allocer and some other disciples managed to break down the doors and enter the temple, so Shamura let him cure their sister.

- Murr!- Narinder called them, handing them the wormling - Leshy doesn't stop crying.-

Shamura reached with their bloody hands for the little one.

They hugged him, cradling him until the worm calmed down.

- You're safe- they murmured - No need to cry. You're safe now.-

[anonymouslyel]

"you'd never look back"

skimming through the manga to find a certain akihiko panel and by god mr. realtor was so on point when he said this to akihiko

from an underground basement to a rooftop penthouse

from small windows that "didn't let it much light" to big windows with "not a bad view of the sky"

from "it was soundproofed" to "noisy ass place! i can't hear myself think!"

from "i didn't even know there was an annual fireworks show for this holiday" to "they do fireworks around here in the summer. ... i bet you can see them from here"

bonus is kizu's notes saying "i gave akihiko a questionable apartment that's seen better days" & "it seems the company that owns the downstairs apartment might be a front for something"

[seokminded]

To date a singer ♪ ₊˚

Woozi ✗gn!reader

꒰☆꒱ Genre: sticky cutesy stuff - fluff.

꒰☆꒱ Warning: rainy weather, close proximity, cheek kiss, some technical terminology? fuels delusions.

꒰☆꒱ Wc: 438

Soundproof glass panels muted the heavy drops that pelted against the windows. The beige leather of the couch cool on your skin as you set aside your MacBook that glowed to display work mails.

Getting up with a little stretch you decide to find your boyfriend in the little nook of his studio where you were right now.

"Jihoooon-ah! Still working?"

You called out as you found him behind bright panels of AMOLED and purple LEDs creating shadows on his focused features.

"Hmm. Just a sec babe."

Pouting just a little, you peeked over his lavishly cushioned chair for your eyes to be bombarded by the bright screen that displayed his DAW messy with layers of colored bars of various amplitudes. Your peripheral vision caught a neon sign of your name, making you smile to yourself.

After a few more clicks and approving nods, he spun his chair around and pulled you into his lap.

"Done."

He sighed and placed his chin on your shoulder as he pulled your back flush against his chest. Your cold feet slipping out of your slides as you rested your toes on his warm socked feet.

"I want you to listen to this."

He spoke against your skin.

"Oh, sure, go ahead."

With a hum, he reached forward and hit the play button.

Beautiful tunes and delicately interwoven notes filled the room as you heard his voice through the woofers. A love song. The lyrics were like something you had never heard him write before. They spoke to you. Closing your eyes you felt the music better and drummed your fingers to the beat. A mellow rhythm that felt like the crisp afternoon air of a beach swirling around you, feeling like a warm embrace.

"How is it?"

You heard him ask.

"So good! Something different, it feels more emotional than the other songs. Is it for your next comeback?"

A gentle smile on his mouth and he pecked your cheek.

"It's for you love."

Turning around to look at him,

"For me? What do you mean?"

"Well, wouldn't it be a sin to not write my beautiful lover a song...hmm?"

You were touched. Gosh, you loved this man.

"Jihoon, I...thank you so much! What's it called?"

Wrapping his hands around your waist, he snuggled into your neck and whispered.

"Y/n."

You let out a little chuckle and hugged him close. Writing you a song? No wonder the lyrics make you feel some type of way. What on earth did you do to deserve someone like him? You thought to yourself...

This is what it feels like to date a singer.

Expected.

Send in requests cause I strive to please.

© 2023 SEOKMINDED. Do not copy, translate or repost any of my works or i'll cry.

[belit0]

Modern Mafia au

I promise this is my last request... Today (probably)

Maybe at school? Or somewhere where Raizen playing his bass while Fuyumi is listening and sketching.

Getting curious Fuyumi ask if she can play/try Raizen's bass, promising to be careful kdkckc

How would that go?

Not RAIZEN'S MIND ACTING AGAINST HIM (context: in this mafia AU, Indra plays the bass since his youth, and he is the one who taught Raizen to play it, sharing his hobby with his son. Dad has a whole room dedicated to music.)

The low hum of Raizen’s bass thrummed through the room—deep, smooth, controlled.

Each note was intentional, his fingers gliding over the fretboard with silent precision, the amp turned low enough not to shake the room, just enough to fill it like a heartbeat.

Fuyumi sat cross-legged a few feet away, her sketchpad resting on her knees, a pencil between her fingers and a slight crease between her brows as she traced soft outlines onto the page.

She wasn’t sketching him directly—at least not obviously—but her eyes flicked up every now and then, studying the angles of his hands, the slope of his shoulders, the way his head dipped when he lost himself in the rhythm.

The music room was nothing short of a shrine.

Sleek shelves held rows of pristine bass guitars—each one gleaming under the warm, golden light filtering through tall windows.

The walls were soundproofed in elegant black-and-deep-red panels, and one corner was practically overflowing with vinyl records, studio monitors, old tapes, handwritten sheets.

Indra’s presence was everywhere.

But it was Raizen who moved in the space like it was his own.

Fuyumi hesitated a moment, lowering her pencil.

-...Can I try?

Raizen’s fingers stilled on the strings.

He looked up, one brow raised slightly—not in suspicion, but something close to curiosity.

-You want to play?

-Just for a second. I promise I’ll be careful,- she added quickly, her voice soft but earnest. -I’ve never touched one before... but I’ve always wanted to feel the strings up close. They look like they buzz when you touch them. Do they?-

A rare flicker of amusement passed through Raizen’s expression.

He leaned forward and unplugged the amp cable, setting the bass down gently across his lap.

-They don’t buzz unless you mess up.- Then, after a pause, with a faint tilt of his head:

-Here.

She blinked, then shuffled over, setting her sketchpad aside and folding her legs neatly in front of him.

Raizen shifted the instrument in his lap, adjusting the strap, then offered it to her like it was something delicate and sacred.

Her hands were cautious, reverent even, as she cradled the neck and let him guide the body into place against her.

It was heavier than she expected. Smooth. Cool to the touch.

She glanced up at him nervously.

-What do I do?

Raizen reached around her, careful not to get too close, his hand hovering over hers as he placed her fingers gently over the strings.

-Hold here. Thumb behind the neck. Press—gently, but firm. Just enough so the note comes through.- He leaned a little closer, brushing one fingertip along the thickest string.

-Now pluck this with your right hand. Just once.

Fuyumi did.

The string snapped under her touch with a thick, satisfying thrum that vibrated right through her ribcage.

Her eyes widened.

-...Oh. That’s... kind of amazing.

Raizen gave a quiet huff of breath that might’ve been a laugh.

-Told you.

She tried another note. This time it buzzed.

Raizen winced. -Okay, that one was bad.-

Fuyumi chucled dramatically. -Ah... I buzzed. I messed up.-

-It’s not the end of the world,- he said, lips twitching as he sat back and let her fumble through another string. -Even my dad buzzes sometimes.-

-Really?- she looked up, scandalized.

-Once. In 2017. He never speaks of it.

That earned a small, stifled laugh from her, the kind where she covered her mouth immediately after.

But she didn’t stop playing—not yet.

The bass sat huge in her arms, foreign, but not unkind. Her touch was careful, her brow furrowed in adorable concentration.

And Raizen—watching her hold something that meant so much to him, seeing her try—felt something unfamiliar and warm creep into his chest.

He didn’t interrupt her again.

Instead, he just watched.

Quietly.

Softly.

And smiled when she plucked another wrong note and hissed under her breath like she’d just kicked a sacred instrument.

-You’re not that bad,- he said, just above a whisper.

She looked up, eyes wide.

-You really think so?

-...No. But you look cute when you try.

The silence afterward was immediate and sharp, both of them stiffening.

Fuyumi’s face flushed so fast it was like a switch had been flipped. Her hands froze over the strings. She stared at him like he’d just declared war.

Raizen looked away.

-...Forget I said that.

-Too late.- she murmured.

She plucked another string—on purpose, this time.

It didn’t buzz.

[password-door-lock]

Mystictober Day 18-- Antagonist/DLC

Unknown comes to rescue you following Jumin’s BSE2 (832 words).

When the window breaks, you expect the alarm to sound. It doesn’t. You also expect Jumin to come running— when he doesn’t, you’re reminded of the work he ordered recently to soundproof your bedroom. At the time, you thought this was a smart decision, but now, you’re beginning to regret allowing him to proceed. He wouldn't have heard the glass shattering unless he was outside, and in that case, he’d be calling out for you to run. Well, you don’t need anybody to tell you to do that— without even checking behind you for the source of the sound, be it a rock thrown from ground level of a prodigiously buff pigeon, you make for the door. 

“Ah-ah,” scolds a chilling voice behind you, “That won’t work, prince(ss).” 

You tug on the door handle with more urgency, and find, to your horror but not to your surprise, that the door is locked. Jumin installed a safety lock protocol controlled by a panel just outside your door— but he’d have no reason to engage it on a random Friday morning. Certainly not without telling you.

But then, something occurs to you. First, the alarm ‘malfunctioned,’ and then the door followed suit… all while an intruder was breaking into your home. That can’t be a coincidence. It seems that you’re the victim of a nefarious plot carried out by an intruder with intimate knowledge of the building’s security system. This person would have to be a very skilled hacker, not to mention incredibly confident. “Who… are you?” you turn around to face the stranger.

He’s leaning against the wall beside your ruined window, a smug expression on his handsome face. He looks vaguely familiar. “Didn’t you figure that out by now?” He drawls.

“Seven?” You ask. Recognition has clicked in your mind.The man’s facial features are undeniably identical to those of your friend— but you quickly abandon this idea when an expression of pure, unadulterated rage crosses the man’s face. “No. He’d never do this,” you correct yourself.

Seven expressed some concern the last time you spoke to him about your relationship with Jumin, but nobody with as many secrets as 707 would dare to cross the heir to C&R. If Seven tried to steal you away, Jumin could hire the best hackers in the country, if not in the world, to track him down. 

“That’s right, prince(ss).” The intruder’s tone is chillingly restrained as he crosses the broken glass to pin you against the useless door. “He’d never come to rescue you like this. He’d rather let you suffer.”

“Rescue me?” You’re baffled. “From what?”

Jumin already does so much to protect you from harm. He barely even lets you out of his sight— if there was something dangerous in your life, he already would’ve had his people take care of it. And you certainly aren’t suffering in this place. Sure, you miss your friends in the RFA, but you still get to see them sometimes. Jaehee visits occasionally, and you even get to play LOLOL with Yoosung. You definitely don’t need to be rescued, and least of all by this guy. 

The stranger just laughs. “Are you really so brainwashed that you think you like being locked up in here by that guy? He thinks you belong to him or something.”

“I do—”

“No,” The stranger with Seven’s face corrects you. His eyes are different, too, now that you’ve gotten close enough to make them out. Seven never mentioned having any siblings, but then again, he always kept a lot of secrets, so you can’t really be surprised. “You already belong to me. I’m the one that sent you to the RFA in the first place. Now, I’m taking you back.” His firm grip on your wrist tells you that you don’t have much of a choice. 

“Unknown?” His name pops into your mind. 

“You remember,” he sounds pleased. “Good.” 

“I’ll scream,” you warn, “And Jumin will come running.”

Unknown laughs. “Jumin is meeting with the sommelier.” This type of meeting could only take place in the wine cellar, which means neither of them would hear you if you scream. And he let the butler go last week, after he already got rid of the housekeeper two months ago. Nobody else is here. “You know what that means, right?”

“Yes.” You may as well resign yourself to your fate. Kicking and screaming will only put you in more danger, if you truly have no way out of this. Besides, Jumin will be able to find you again, won’t he? 

“Don’t worry,” Unknown ruffles your perfectly styled hair, eviscerating all the work you put into it this morning with a single touch. “I’ll take better care of you than that guy does. Now, come on, before the C&R gets back into their server and turns on the alarm, mhm?” 

You shouldn’t follow him, but you do. As usual, you trust that everything will work out for the best.

[ajqwrites]

COD: Modern Warfare Reboot (Under Siege - Book 1)

John drove at ease while his hand tightened on the steering wheel. The leather creaked under the pressure of his grip as the morning sunlight filtered through the windshield, highlighting the tight line of his jaw and his face as his narrowed eyes focused on the road.

Her words about her mother—how she worked in intelligence, always busy with military operatives and classified cases. It had seemed vague, but now it made sense on what her mother does for a living.

Kate Laswell.

Her mother.

The girl he was falling for was the daughter of his superior.

He tightened his grip as his nose scrunched.

Fucking hell.

The base came into view, its slate-gray structure rising from the trees like a fortress cut from stone—remote, contained, and heavily secured. But this wasn't any military compound.

This was the 141 base.

Tucked deep within the bounds of a larger British military facility outside London, the building stood apart—isolated behind an additional layer of fencing, surveillance, and coded entry. Way behind was the woods that was meant for training or hunting purpose, twenty minutes away from the base to Simon and Gabby's house. No other forces step their foot here. Just him and his team.

John slowed only to swipe his clearance badge at the outer gate.

The reinforced steel doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, and he drove through, watching the world outside slip away behind thick, electric fencing. He parked just outside the main structure and stepped out. Even from the lot, you could tell this place wasn't standard issue.

To the right of his SUV sat Soap's old truck—a beat-up, blue-green 1975 Chevrolet C/K, still caked in dried mud from god-knows-what backroad in Scotland. The body had dents that looked like they'd been earned, not repaired. It ran loud and stubborn—just like him.

Next to it was his daughter, Cam's bright yellow Jeep Wrangler Sport, doors removed like she preferred. There were claw marks scratched across the paint from a training mishap in the woods last spring—she'd left them on purpose.

On the other side of the lot, Gaz's car stood sleek and clean—a matte gray Aston Martin DBX707, understated but sharp, polished like the man himself. Tactical, quiet, fast. The kind of car that looked like it could disappear in a second and leave no trace. Practical luxury—exactly what Kyle would choose.

And then there was Gabby's beast—a towering black Dodge Ram 2500 Big Horn Off-Road, tires thick as tree trunks, hood bug-splattered from long, late-night drives between recon stops and home. The windows were tinted dark, the bumper reinforced. It looked like it could survive a landmine—and knowing Gabby, she tested that theory. He'll assume that Simon's motor vehicle wasn't here. So, he must have tagged along with Gabby.

Heading towards the building, it looked more like a retrofitted warehouse from the outside—long, high-ceilinged, no windows facing the front. But inside, every inch was hand-picked and designed with care, meant for Task Force 141 alone. The ground floor was meant for a massive hangar, built large enough to house two fighter jets, a helicopter, a C-130, and space for several ground vehicles. Tool chests, crates, and racks lined the walls, every piece of equipment labeled and locked in tight rows. Making the air inside to be cool, metallic, and still.

At the back corner of the hangar sat a small steel-paneled office, plain at first glance. But inside, behind a hidden biometric panel, was his classified mission room and his office—his main room. The room was soundproof, lined with encrypted servers, stacked with files, maps, and black ops case logs no one else had clearance to see. Only he held the key, including Simon, Soap, and Gabby.

Just right of that office was a windowless interrogation room, where they had dealt with Rich and Harkin last time. It was stuffy but it has purpose to make it look like an interrogation room like crime drama shows would set the mood as one.

To the left, a metal staircase led upward to the second floor.

At the top were two heavy doors: one marked only with a sticker that read "Keep Ear Protection On", leading to the shooting range, lined with soundproof walls and reinforced floors.

The second door opened into the gym/training room, fitted with everything from weight benches and sparring mats to a caged ring where they ran drills or settled grudges in silence.

Back downstairs, a side door from the hangar led directly into the living quarters—starting with a hangout lounge. The space was comfortably cluttered: a worn leather couch, mismatched chairs, a wall-mounted screen, and a corner shelf stacked with half-read books and beat-up decks of cards.

A speaker hummed low in the background, often forgotten but always playing.

There was even a hint of dog toys strewn around since their 141-guard dog, Jasper, is Simon's pet. But, Jasper is still a pet to the 141. Meant to be treated as a guard dog and K-9 type to sniff and snuff out insurgents.

Which, John like about Jasper. He can love and bite at the same time.

His two bowls were empty and needed to be cleaned anyways.

Beside the lounge, an open kitchen stood stocked. Nothing fancy—just enough for a team always running on caffeine and food to survive. The fridge was filled with energy drinks and leftover food that Cam, Gaz, and Gabby usually cook or bring some from their homes.

A narrow hallway beside the kitchen branched off to ten small bedrooms—five on each side—each room uniform in size but personalized with minimal touches: old posters, spare uniforms, and boots lined in straight rows.

At the very end was the laundry room.

Off the kitchen, a small conference room used for non-classified mission prep, quick huddles, or the occasional argument over intel. It had a whiteboard stained from dry-erase markers and a tactical digital table at the center, its screen blank for now. Beyond the back doors, a stretch of woodland forest bordered the base—dense and wild. The team often used it for training and stealth drills, where the crunch of leaves under boots was the only sound, and they learned to move like shadows.

Everything here was designed for a living and going to war. No one came in without his say. No one stayed unless they earned it. And today, he was walking into his den of his own making.

Exhaling slowly, he opened the door and entered the debriefing room—the team was already gathered around the long table that doubled as both mission hub and war room.

Soap leaned casually against the edge, arms folded across his chest, wearing his usual off-duty look: a faded hoodie, dark jeans, and scuffed boots. His hair was slightly mussed, like he'd either just rolled out of bed or finished a quick workout—probably both.

Gabby sat at the far end, one leg hooked over the other, fingers flying over her laptop keyboard as she was typing. She wore a black leather jacket layered over a faded maroon tee, jeans, and black combat boots laced tight to her calves. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, though she spared a glance upward when John entered.

Cam was perched on the arm of the couch near the wall, twirling her red hair between her fingers. Her yellow hoodie contrasted with the dark tones of the room, sleeves shoved up past her elbows, jeans ripped at the knees with vanguard shoes. She didn't say a word—just watched her father stepped in.

Gaz sat on a chair nearby with his arms crossed. He wore his usual grey hoodie with matching sweatpants and nike black and white shoes. His sharp gaze flicked up as soon as the door opened.

"Good night, boss?" Gaz asked with a subtle smirk.

John paused at the entrance, letting the door close behind him with a soft click. He looked down briefly at himself—still in the dark navy shirt and pants from last night, though now clean and freshly groomed.

"Didn't know I had to dress for you lot," he said dryly.

Gaz gave a low chuckle. "Just sayin', you've got that morning-glow on you."

Soap grinned, already amused. "Aye, I noticed that too."

His eyes narrowed at both of them. "Don't start."

Soap raised his hands. "What? Can't a man point out when his captain looks shagged out?"

"Johnny, I'm right here." Cam frowned.

Gabby snorted under her breath but didn't stop typing.

"You leave the base doors unlocked again?" John leveled his look at Soap sharp enough to skin a man.

"Technically, they weren't locked after training yesterday."

"Technically," John echoed, biting the word off. "This isn't a youth hostel. Lock. The. Fucking. Doors."

"Alright, alright," Soap said, backing off with his eyes rolled. "Don't have to be stormin' in like a bloody thundercloud this morning."

"Yeah? Try waking up to find out your superior is the mother of the girl you've—" John caught himself and exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Never mind."

Simon, seated in the corner with his hood up and stern glance, spoke, "Reckon that's one hell of a debrief to walk into."

John didn't respond right away. His jaw flexed, eyes icy as they flicked between Cam and Gabby.

"For the record," Gabby said without glancing up, still typing. "I didn't know either. Not until Kate showed me Charlie's file. And yeah, she is beyond pissed."

"She's en route now," Cam said, voice soft but direct. "Should be here any minute."

John rubbed his face before dragging a hand down his face. "Brilliant."

"So, uh... you gonna tell her?" Soap asked, almost nervous.

"I'm going to tell her exactly what she needs to hear," John said it straight and frowned. "And nothing more."

Silence fell over the room for a beat—until Gaz turned toward the kitchenette and grabbed the coffee pot.

"You want morning shot, Captain?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Black. Strong. Don't water it down." John answered straight.

“Yes, sir.”

As Gaz poured, John stepped closer to the table, eyes scanning the scattered files, satellite photos, and mission notes. His shoulders were tense, jaw tight.

"Alright," he said finally, voice dropping back into command mode. "Let's start with what we know. And someone brief me before Kate walks through those doors swinging a bloody axe."

Gabby finally looked up from her laptop, eyes serious. "Then let's make it count."

***

Every detail of the plan ran through his head like a well-rehearsed script. The intel they had gathered over the past few weeks had finally come together, and in a couple of days, they would execute the plan.

Gabby hovered near the map with him, her sharp eyes scanning the details. They had been collecting bits and pieces of information from various sources until they had enough to break Zakhorov's arms deal network wide open. The plan was set for a night op when Zakhorov's men would least expect it. They would hit the shipment channels hard, severing the lines and keeping his operation running. It was risky, but it was the kind of risk John was used to taking.

Up to his second cup of coffee, his fingers traced a path along the map. His eyes narrowed as he went over the key points of the operation once more. The locations of the warehouses where Zakhorov's shipments were being stored.

Everything was marked with accuracy in the docks where the arms were loaded. It was meant to hit the right places at the right time to disrupt the entire network without tipping Zakhorov off too early.

"We've got everything in place," Gabby said. "Our contacts in Prague confirmed the shipment is set to move in two days. If we hit them now, his whole operation crumbles."

"What about the docks? Have we got eyes on them?" Gaz asked.

"Simon will take care of that. He's got overwatch on the docks, and our contact there will keep us updated if anything changes," Gabby explained.

John nodded, his gaze flickering over to where Soap and Simon were reviewing the final details of the mission. He trusted his team implicitly—each knew their role and what needed to be done.

They'd done this before, too many times to count. But this mission was more at stake, not just for them, but for their home. Their country. And Charlie.

The thought of her being oblivious to the danger made his heart clenched. He hadn't told her what he would do—not because he didn't trust her, but because he didn't want her to know and worry about him. She had enough on her plate, with her thesis, school, day job, and normal life to live. And as long as he kept her out of it, she would be safe. But John couldn't deny that part of him was conflicted.

She had slipped into his life, and now, she was rooted in his heart (and his mind) in ways he hadn't expected. And while he knew how to control his emotions.

He couldn't ignore the nagging thought at the back of his mind: What if it goes wrong?

Biting his inside of his cheek, John breathed out his nose. Gabby could sense the tension in him. Her eyes softened as she studied him.

"It's going to be fine, John. No mistakes."

His eyes moved to hers. He gave her a curt nod.

As if on cue, Soap wandered over, and he glanced down at the map. "So, Cap'n, you think we'll finish this in one smooth strike? Or you think Zakharov's gonna throw us a curveball?"

"Zakharov's smart. He'll have contingencies in place. But we'll be ready." John said without looking at Soap.

Soap crossed his arms. "Aye, that's what I like to hear. We'll hit 'em hard and fast; by the time they know what's happened, we'll be long gone."

John nodded and turned to face the rest.

"Listen up, this isn't about taking out the shipment channels. Zakharov's network stretches far beyond this, and if we do this right, we'll cripple his operations. But we need to be smart. We hit them before they know we were there."

Simon nodded and continued. "We'll need to keep eyes on the ground even after the strike. Zakharov's got too many allies for us to assume it'll end well."

John nodded in agreement, his eyes flickering back to the map one last time. "As soon as Laswell gives us a green light."

"Dad, she's here," Cam called out after she put her phone away.

They heard the door knock and Kate Laswell stepped in. She wore her tailored navy blazer over a cream blouse, dark trousers, and ankle boots. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, not a strand out of place. Her presence could make the seasoned operatives stand at attention. Her sharp blue eyes scanned where the group was with a calculating gaze as her heels clicking against the concrete floor as she entered. Her expression was neutral, but there was a sternness in her demeanor that wasn't lost on anyone.

"Morning," she said curtly, her gaze swept over the group. Her eyes lingered on John for a fraction longer before she turned her attention to Gabby, who stood closest to the table. "I trust everyone's been briefed?"

"Yes, ma'am," Gabby said, her tone respectful but tinged with unease.

Soap, sensing the tension, shifted uncomfortably. Gaz offered a small nod in greeting, his usual humor subdued.

Cam looked away and tried to act normal by being casual.

Then, Laswell landed back on John. Her eyes studied his outfit and she frowned.

"John," she said sternly.

"Laswell," he replied, crossing his arms. Though the sharpness in his tone hadn't softened.

There was a brief silence as the two stared at each other. The air between them was taut with unspoken words. The rest of the team exchanged glances, sensing that this was more than just debriefing.

"Before we get into the details, I want to make clear to all of you," she said in her cool and even tone. "I did not expect my daughter becoming involved in this operation—let alone tangled up with one of mine."

John didn't flinch, but his jaw tightened.

"She was never meant to be a part of this," Laswell added, voice lowering just slightly. "Yet here we are."

Her eyes stayed forward, trained on them all. "Charlie isn't built for this. I've spent my whole life trying to keep her sheltered from my world." Then her gaze cut to John. "Until now."

John met her stare without blinking.

Then Laswell landed her on him. "Starting with you Soap."

Soap straightened instinctively, caught off guard. "Ma'am?"

Her gaze narrowed. "You're the one who set him up, right?"

"Uh... yeah, technically—"

"Don't 'technically' me," Laswell cut him off. "You thought it'd be funny?"

"I was just trying to get him out of his cave, y'know?” Soap shifted, scratching the back of his neck. "Didn't expect it to go this far. And I swear, Laswell. I didn't know Charlie was related."

"Well, now you know," Laswell snapped. "You lit the fuse, MacTavish. You might've thought it was a joke, but now you've dragged my daughter into a circle she was never meant to be in!"

Soap opened his mouth, but Laswell didn't give him the chance.

"And if anything happens to her—anything—because of this..." Her voice dropped to a chilling calm. "It won't just be on John. It'll be on all of you."

She looked around at them—Gaz, Gabby, Cam, even Simon—her sharp stare pinning them each to the floor.

"I trust all of you to handle war zones. Assassinations. Ghost operations in enemy territory. But if you can't protect a single civilian—my daughter—from the fallout of your choices, then maybe I put my trust in the wrong people."

Soap swallowed hard.

"I'm not asking for favors," Laswell continued. "I'm telling you—if this gets worse, and she bleeds, her blood's on this floor. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am," all of have said together except John.

And then, she set her eyes on John.

"A word with you."

He tightened his jaw and watched Laswell step out of the room, and he followed her behind without a word.

✨Return to Masterlist (RTM)✨

✨Chapter 74✨

👉🏽 Return to Main Post (RTMP) 👈🏽

[noiseproblems]

How can you get a soundproof sliding glass door?

Doors and windows are part of a home. Windows help in space ventilation and doors enable homeowners to move in and out conveniently.

As walls have insulation, to assist in regulating the interior temperature and to lessen noise, a door can offer similar functionalities.

Depending on the area you live, it is pretty unrealistic to expect your home is not subjected to external noises.

By installing the right type of soundproof accordion doors, you can better the insulation of your home and create a more soundproof home along with various other advantages, including:

• Improved security

• Enhanced energy effectiveness

This implies selecting a soundproof window panel that is made of dense; multiple layers can lessen external noise infiltration up to 40%.

Sliding doors with soundproof underlay

With doorways an integral part of your home, it is vital to have the best performing solutions installed in your home.

Cost-efficient insulation for soundproof underlay

Creating a soundproof oasis doesn’t need to be hefty for your pocket. You can get pocket-friendly ways to insulate sliding glass doors without compromising on efficiency.

No matter you are looking to improve the current insulation of your doors or considering cost-efficient options, we have got you covered.

Conclusion

So, in a nutshell, delving into the world of soundproof sliding glass door has imparted us some true eye-openers in making our workplaces and homes peaceful. We looked at the challenges and ways to harness them, from cool new designs to better materials.

As you cover your journey to a serene place, keep in mind the tricks of soundproofing, the essence of good materials, and how professional installation can make a difference.

And, if you are after not only peace but a blend of style and functionality, check out our range of soundproof accordion doors.

[lastimeexteriors-nebraska]

How do skylights affect room acoustics?

When you think of skylights, the first thing that probably comes to mind is the natural light they bring into a space. But skylights are more than just architectural enhancements—they can impact various aspects of your home, including its acoustics. While the benefits of brighter rooms and an elevated aesthetic are undeniable, it’s also worth understanding how skylights might influence the sound dynamics of your space.

Skylights have the potential to transform your home by bringing in sunlight and creating an open, airy feel. Yet, many people overlook the effect they can have on sound. Whether you’re planning to install skylights in a living room, bedroom, or workspace, taking a closer look at their impact on room acoustics ensures a more functional and harmonious environment. From the materials used to their placement on your roof, the way skylights shape sound is worth considering as part of your home improvement plans.

If you’re exploring ways to make your home brighter while maintaining comfort and practicality, adding skylights could be an excellent choice. However, it’s essential to balance their aesthetic and functional appeal with other factors like noise control and sound absorption. Let’s delve deeper into how skylights interact with acoustics and how you can make informed decisions to enhance your home.

What Are Skylights, and Why Consider Them?

Skylights are essentially windows installed on a roofline, designed to flood your home with natural light. They’re prized for their ability to transform dimly lit spaces into bright, inviting areas while also offering ventilation and a stronger connection to the outdoors. Whether you want to make a small room feel larger or reduce the need for artificial lighting, skylights are a versatile solution that complements any home style.

Beyond their visual appeal, skylights can serve practical purposes. They improve air circulation, help regulate indoor temperatures, and add a modern architectural touch. However, many homeowners don’t realize the role skylights can play in shaping the sound quality of a room. That’s why it’s important to explore their acoustic properties before installation, ensuring that the addition aligns with your home’s specific needs.

How Skylights Affect Room Acoustics

While skylights offer undeniable benefits, they can influence the way sound behaves within a space. Here’s a closer look at their acoustic effects and how to manage them effectively:

1. Potential for Increased Noise Levels

Skylights, particularly those made of glass, can introduce more external noise into your home. The large surface area allows sounds like rain, wind, or traffic to enter, which may be amplified in some cases. This is especially noticeable in rooms with hard surfaces where sound can bounce and create echoes.

2. Material Matters: Soundproofing Options

Not all skylights are created equal. Choosing skylights with thicker or laminated glass can reduce external noise, creating a more peaceful environment. Some skylights are specifically designed with acoustic features to minimize sound intrusion, making them an excellent option for busy neighborhoods or homes near highways.

3. Sound Absorption Inside the Room

In addition to blocking outside noise, it’s essential to consider how skylights affect sound within the room. They can reflect sound waves, leading to echoes in open spaces. Incorporating soft furnishings such as carpets, curtains, or acoustic panels can absorb sound and create a more balanced acoustic experience.

4. Shape and Placement of Skylights

The shape and positioning of skylights also play a role in acoustics. Flat skylights often reflect sound, which can lead to reverberation. On the other hand, domed or slanted skylights can disperse sound waves more evenly, improving the overall sound quality of the room. Strategic placement can further minimize unwanted noise.

Tips for Achieving Acoustic Balance with Skylights

To enjoy the benefits of skylights without compromising on sound quality, consider these practical tips:

Combine Skylights with Acoustic Solutions: Use rugs, upholstered furniture, or sound-absorbing panels to reduce echoes and noise within the room.

Choose Quality Skylight Materials: Opt for skylights made with soundproofing materials or those designed to dampen external noise.

Consult Professionals: If sound quality is critical—such as in a home theater or recording space—seek advice from contractors who understand acoustics and can recommend tailored solutions.

Evaluate Your Environment: The surrounding noise levels in your area should influence your skylight choice. Quiet neighborhoods may not require extensive soundproofing, while busy areas may demand additional measures.

Skylights are a fantastic way to enhance your home’s aesthetic, improve natural lighting, and even boost ventilation. But as with any home improvement, it’s crucial to think about the bigger picture. Understanding how skylights interact with sound can help you create a space that’s not only visually appealing but also acoustically comfortable.

If you’re ready to brighten your home and take advantage of the transformative power of skylights, consult a trusted contractor in Nebraska who can guide you through the process. From selecting the right materials to ensuring proper installation, an experienced professional will help you create a space that’s as functional as it is beautiful. Explore your options today and bring both light and harmony into your home!

[hdtalent]

The company canceled all training on MAY 19, 2025 for SELECT TRAINEES to begin filming for pre-debut project. PART TWO/3!

On MAY 19, 2025, the selected HYDRA trainees touched down at Los Angeles International Airport to the warm sun, excited whispers, and flashing cameras. The two groups are quickly whisked away (after their first [!] airport appearances) in private transport to their temporary new homes: two sprawling luxury villas.

Each villa, carefully curated to reflect the unique identity of the two groups, features rehearsal studios, outdoor lounges, game rooms, and cozy personal spaces where the members can settle in for the whirlwind ahead. Set just outside the city, nestled in the foothills above Los Angeles, the two homes offer privacy, personality, and purpose.

The GIRLNEXTDOOR VILLA is soft Mediterranean-style home nestled between lavender gardens and white rose bushes, the GIRLNEXTDOOR villa feels like it was pulled straight from a dreamscape. Modern with a vintage flair, it reflects the duality of the group: youthful charm with mature undertones. The interior holds pastel tones, floral wallpapers, wooden floors, and gold-accented furnishings. Natural lighting floods every room through tall French windows, creating a cozy, lived-in atmosphere. The girls will have plenty of shared spaces like a sunroom lounge with woven swings, potted & unpotted plants, and a record player, perfect for slow mornings or late-night heart-to-hearts. And a chance to decorate the house themselves with their own touch.

There's also a training studio with whitewashed walls, soft lighting, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors and windows. Mood boards and quote cutouts hang on the walls: "Grace in every step. Power in every move." Downtime available in the game room. Arcade cabinets, a karaoke machine, and a cozy reading corner filled with photobooks, fashion magazines, and journaling supplies. Now each girl shares an entire room with five beds, personalized with nameplates, LED signs, and corkboards for photos and letters from home. And don't worry, there will be group vanity room equipped with professional makeup stations and full-length mirrors, where members can prep together and chat about their days.

The whole villa comes together with a rose garden patio with string lights overhead, a pool, and a small outdoor stage used for informal vocal rehearsals and mini-performances.

SUPER REAL GIRLS ( Click! Demo Line Distribution )

Perched higher in the hills with sweeping views of Los Angeles, the VARSITY VILLA is a sharp, glass-paneled modern mansion that makes a bold architectural statement, mirroring the ambition and energy of the group it houses. Designed with urban minimalism in mind, the villa strikes a balance between edgy and youthful, channeling the group's intense drive and experimental spirit into every corner of its space.

Inside, the aesthetic is distinctly industrial chic: concrete accents, black steel railings, and narrow LED strips illuminate the stairwells and hallways, casting a cool glow across the cool-toned walls. Now the villa's shared areas buzzes with energy. A soundproof multimedia den, outfitted with LED light panels and a powerful custom gaming rig, acts as a multi-functional space for livestreams, video editing, and digital beat production. Down the hall, a streetwear-inspired wardrobe room houses racks of pre-debut outfits, rows of sneakers, and quirky props meant for content shoots and style tests. The open-concept kitchen and living room serves as both a functional meal space and brainstorming zone, where late-night conversations turn into ideas and impromptu debates.

The training studio for the boys itself is an open-floor space. Exposed brick walls clash stylishly with graffiti-style artwork and neon signs, while digital panels line one wall, allowing the boys to review choreography breakdowns and past performances. It's gritty, bold, and unapologetically performance-focused. The game room provides a welcome release: ping-pong and pool tables, VR headsets, and a wall-mounted digital scoreboard keep track of team challenges, victories, and bragging rights.

The 5 bunk-style bedroom has its own personality. LED nameplates glow above the beds, mood lighting sets a calm post-training vibe, and many rooms lead out to open balconies that frame panoramic views of the L.A. skyline. The trainees can make the space their own with collages of family photos, letters from friends, and vision boards taped above their beds, a personal sanctuary within the high-pressure environment.

Outside, the villa’s backyard boasts a sleek infinity pool that spills toward the horizon, mirroring the city lights below. A built-in firepit area, circled by low lounge chairs, becomes a ritualistic nighttime gathering spot, where the boys decompress, share personal stories, and reflect on the steps ahead. The VARSITY villa is more than just a home, it's a launchpad for their dream.

BOYS NEXT UP ( Click! Demo Line Distribution )

After a day of unpacking and exploring their new environment, both male and female trainees are summoned to the shared rehearsal space where staff formally announced the next phase. Behind the scenes, they'll get a chance to see what each episode will entail:

"You will be filming between 8 to 10 episodes for the reality show. Each episode is designed to explore not only your growth as artists but as individuals and teammates. Your story starts now."

🎬 EPISODE OVERVIEW (Working Titles 😂)

EPISODE 1: "Touchdown L.A." The trainees arrive, tour the villas, go out to buy items to decorate their rooms, and play icebreaker games. First mission: a collaborative performance challenge between groups to break the ice and the nerves.

EPISODE 2: "First Class" Daily training begins: vocal, dance, and stage presence workshops. Coaches arrive. The pressure builds. Unexpected home sickness, hidden talents, and the first taste of idol-level discipline.

EPISODE 3: "Roommate Diaries" Camera crews follow the trainees through their daily lives; cooking, cleaning, late-night chats. They record diary cams revealing their insecurities, hopes, and early friendships forming under the pressure.

EPISODE 4: "The Challenge Stage" Each group is split into respective groups and must plan a full-stage performance on their own for trainees at Hydra America. From picking songs to designing choreography, it's their first taste of creative control.

EPISODE 5: "Crossfire" The groups swap coaches for a day. Lee Hyori trains the boys, while SHINee's Minho pushes the girls. A tough episode that tests mental resilience and physical limits.

EPISODE 6: "Homesick, But Holding On" A slower, emotionally charged episode. Surprise video messages from family back home. Some trainees get calls. Others break down. Some reflect. This episode is meant to showcases their human side.

EPISODE 7: "Lights, Camera, Promotion" A few trainees are selected to fly back to Korea for surprise variety show guestings. Those who stay behind must hold mock interviews and test-run photoshoots with staff playing reporters.

EPISODE 8: "The Pre-Debut Showcase" In front of a small audience, the groups perform their pre-debut songs "Attention" and "Favorite." Tears, triumphs, and a glimpse of what's to come.

POSSIBLE EPISODE(S) 9 & 10: "Back Home, Forward Bound" (TBD) Filmed upon their return to Korea: final evaluations, debut prep, and goodbye scenes from the villas.

MISCELLANEOUS MOMENTS & CONTENT

A late-night pool party where they freestyle rap and sing old K-pop hits.

GIRLNEXTDOOR hosts a mock talk show episode with VARSITY as guests; chaos ensues.

A "24-hour Switch Challenge" where the girls train like the boys and vice versa.

A surprise pet therapy day arranged by staff after an especially tough rehearsal.

When trainees receive fan letters from the company's trainee fandom circle, many tear up.

Miru and Amaru have to act as translators for a short promo video in Japanese.

Naimei accidentally burns rice and becomes a meme.

Nayoung quietly writes a letter to her future self and the trainees find it.

Weekly Regimen (5 Days a Week): Mornings: One-on-one vocal lessons Afternoons: Minimum 3-hour dance sessions Evenings: Assigned studio recording blocks

Daily Athletic Conditioning:

100 Jumping Jacks

100 Burpees

100 Core Drills (crunches, push-ups, hip raises)

100 Side Core Drills (oblique twists, side planks)

3-minute Plank/Viparita Karani during full-length song

Coaches stress open communication. "If you're overwhelmed, speak. We're building idols, not burning them."

For both GIRLNEXTDOOR and VARSITY, the central focus during their time in Los Angeles will be the full vocal recording of all debut tracks and select high-profile music video productions. Every day not be spent training or filming reality content is devoted to refining vocals, experimenting with ad libs, fine-tuning harmonies, and capturing that perfect take under the direction of HYDRA’s elite production team. GIRLNEXTDOOR will film 'Attention' and all versions of 'Hype Boy' in California, but all other tracks will have later filming time once they return to South Korea in June. Same with the boys, 'Favorite' and 'Love Language' will be filmed in California, the rest in South Korea.

Industry-recognized vocal coaches and producers, including HYDRA's in-house A&R leads, will rotate between villas, ensuring both teams receive equal technical support and creative input. Trainees will be challenged not just to sing or rap on beat, but to emote, to connect, and to bring raw narrative to their performance on and off camera.

With the premiere fast approaching, HYDRA’s PRE-DEBUT PROJECT is ready to immerse audiences in a show full of heart, laughter, sweat, and dreams. The episodes will stream weekly on major platforms, with special behind-the-scenes drops and exclusive livestreams scheduled between releases.

The pre-debut stage is set. The spotlight is on. Now, they just have to shine.

In order to participate in this event, players must complete the following:

COLLABORATION: Partner up with 2 players about TWO EPISODES. Each player must complete 2 FULL THREADS to earn 4 PTS per thread, which can be used to improve ANY SKILL(S).

SOLO #1: Write a detailed solo scene capturing your character’s thoughts, routines, or personal rituals as they prepare for debut and the overall experience in LA. Mention at least TWO EPISODES. Each player must complete 1 FULL DRABBLE (+300 words) to earn 4 PTS, which can be applied to ANY SKILL(S).

SOLO #2: Write your character's decision about what role they'll take (main vocal, visual, etc). The company is letting the team decide but the decision must be ran by the group's leaders: PEERANAT NEAR & TAKADA MIRU. Each player must complete 1 FULL DRABBLE (+300 words) and select 2 positions to earn 3 PTS, which can be applied to ANY SKILL(S).

Be sure to tag threads with #hd:debut2k25 ! The deadline for threads/point submissions is JUNE 23, 2025. Feel free to reach out for an extension if you need more time for completion, the mod team is happy to assist.

[stars-shine-for-me]

heyyyyy ⭐️

HI RAINN i've been dying to talk about this bit of u21 for EVER thank you for giving me the opportunity LMAO

He raises his bow to the violin and jerks it sharply over the G string, once, twice, three times. The sound falls flat slightly, jarring, and Rin reaches up to turn the peg in one smooth, practiced motion. He draws the bow up again once he’s deemed the tuning sufficient, and slices it back down, knife to neck, and the G note rings out, clear as a blood splatter on powder snow. He moves through them, string by string, cut by cut, until his violin sits perfectly tuned in his palm, strung up tight like a crime scene.  The metronome beats on through it all, incessant and unending, palpable like a heartbeat. His wrist does not shake, nor does it lock up the first time he raises the bow to rest against the bridge. The strings press into his fingers as he takes up the starting chord, tiny blades carving papercuts ad infinitum. Penderecki screams at him from the stand, insistent, so he bites down the hesitance his brother would chalk up to not being good enough, adjusts his grip, and begins his own vivisection.  He plays like it’s a marathon, hardly allowing himself time to breathe. Rin flays himself, peels his skin to strips with horsehair and lays it out on the table, each sheet of music a layer of the epidermis picked off and discarded. The voice of the singer next door ebbs and flows as the tide of his focus pushes and recedes – he catches snippets of a song when he pauses to pour water down his throat, parched dry, takes in stray scales sung as he wipes the sweat from his palms so they don’t slip on the bow. Rin whittles down the hours, sun sinking like a rock, accompanied by matching symphonies that suffuse through the panels of soundproofing.

so i think my main priority during this section was forming rin's opinion on violin in isolation. so far in the fic every mention of the violin and music and general has been at least SOMEWHAT connected to sae, and that tends to mean that rin's feelings about his big brother bleed into his feelings on their shared craft, which alters its portrayal pretty significantly.

you see earlier in the fic rin's got a pretty like. i guess motivated outlook on the violin. he wants to get better (for sae) he wants to get into music school (like sae) he wants to become the best (so he can catch up to sae). his relationship with his brother overshadows his relationship with his violin completely.

but the thing is that rin hasn't seen sae in four years. the important thing is at this point in the fic is that rin has changed massively while sae has been away, and sae hasn't been there to see it. there's no sae at the moment to influence the way that rin sees his violin and what he does. and while perhaps when he's going about his daily life, eating, sleeping, etc., he still has that connection with sae, but when he's by himself in his practice room that's not quite silent, it's just him and his instrument really.

at this point we don't really know how rin feels about the violin outside of sae, so i wanted this scene to be a window into that -- into the rin without sae, when he's alone. and obviously it's rin and so he feels everything very intensely and very gruesomely, so i tried really hard to sew in a lot more of the visceral imagery here.

it's here where i want the reader to realise for the first time that rin's relationship with the violin (and with himself, obviously, but that's discussed a bit earlier) isn't quite what it seems and that his motivations aren't exactly a cut-and-dry "i want to be the best in the world with sae" like we thought they were.

that's to be honest the entire point of u21; at its root it's a character study of rin. even if i've modified the circumstances and his characterisation slightly, it's still the same rin itoshi as in canon. so really this scene is a reflection of what i think of the canon rin's feelings on football and on his brother, and as we'll see much later in the fic, the effect that isagi has on that.

so yeah while i was writing this i wanted to include a lot more of the more confronting, gory imagery. this scene in particular is really important to me just because of how MUCH it says about rin. i think it's lowkey kinda beautiful, in a gruesome way.

i hope everyone likes this fic when it comes out :-)

[leejenowrld]

Would you share some visuals/images of jenos very huge apartment? 🤣

i’m sorry for how this took to respond to

jeno’s apartment is a seamless blend of opulence and functionality, where every detail reflects his personality—meticulous, powerful, and commanding attention without ever trying too hard. the first thing that catches your eye is the sprawling basketball court at the center of his home, surrounded by walls of glass that open out to an unbroken view of the sunset over the ocean. the lines of the court glow faintly under warm led lights embedded into the polished flooring, giving the space an ethereal quality as night falls.

above, the glass-paneled ceiling stretches across the court, allowing natural light to pour in during the day while soft, golden lighting creates an almost celestial atmosphere at night. two levels of the apartment encircle the court—a sprawling, modern kitchen with sleek marble countertops and industrial finishes on one side, and a cozy, sunken living area on the other, lined with plush, oversized couches that practically beg you to sink into them.

to the left of the court, a passageway leads to his private pool room, a sanctuary of luxury with an infinity pool reflecting a ceiling mural of a star-filled sky. waterfalls cascade gently along one side, adding a serene soundtrack to the space. floor-to-ceiling windows frame the pool, offering the same panoramic ocean view, though this room feels quieter, almost sacred, as if meant for unwinding after a day of chaos.

his bedroom is darker, moodier—a retreat that contrasts the openness of the rest of the apartment. black, textured walls are accented by warm, dim lights, while a sunken jacuzzi sits near a wall of glass that overlooks the city skyline. the bed is massive, its sharp, clean lines softened by the layers of lush bedding and blankets, the kind of space that feels indulgent without being ostentatious.

and then, tucked away near the living room, is a private cinema. rows of modular, deep-gray seats are arranged like a luxury theater, the ceiling lit with tiny led stars that mimic the night sky. the walls are lined with soundproofing material, ensuring complete immersion into whatever world you choose to escape into for the night.

the entire apartment feels like a contradiction—open yet intimate, polished yet warm. it’s a space designed for dominance but touched by small, quiet moments of softness, just like jeno himself. every inch of it is curated, purposeful, and entirely unforgettable.