#link click decoding

[sicnin]

link click letter decoding with the bestie. if u even care.

thank you @courtjoxter my bitter ex (slash j) for the ceaser ciphering

"HE HEART OF THE FOREST A SUDDEN IC SPREAD AMONG THE ANIMALS FOX T RECTING ELEPHANT TO DOUSE THE FLAMES D WIFTLY SPREADING MESSAGES OF URGENCY RA HOWEVER ONLY CARED ABOUT FLEEING FOR SAFETY THE FOREST SUCCUMBED TO THE FIRES WRATH

DETERMINED TO PREVENT SUCH TRAGEDIES THE ANIMALS HIRED A DETECTIVE TO UNCOVER THE CULPRIT WHAT THEY DISCOVERED WAS BEYOND THEIR WILDEST IMAGINATIONS

HE BELIEVED THAT THE KEY TO SOLVING THE PROBLEM WAS TO ELIMINATE ALL POTENTIAL SPARKS THAT COULD IGNITE TROUBLE"

[bithcisweartogod]

ep4 and no beautiful mystery lady but we’re FOR SURE getting her in the next one, the girl from the pv looked just like her…and maybe she doesn’t have abilities, and the reason why her eyes glow in the ending was because it was actually cheng xiaoshi diving..

[dakusan]

S K Z   D I C K   A N A L Y S I S

stray kids ot8 x reader | field research, god-tier dick, you won’t walk tomorrow

🖤 synopsis: eight men. sixteen hands. one universal truth: they’re all built different. this isn’t a thirst post. it’s a forensic study. a field report. a soul-snatching gospel of hips, tongues, and the quiet cruelty of a man who knows how to fuck. some of them worship you. some of them destroy you. all of them leave you shaking. welcome to the skz dick analysis. we’re not just rating dick. we’re decoding it.

💌a/n: i don’t even know how we got here. one second i was sipping tea like a sane person, the next i was writing about han jisung crying in your arms post-nut while “That That” by PSY (feat. yoongi, because of course) blasted in the background. filth. absolute filth. but you know what? it’s what they deserve. it’s what we deserve. also if it wasn’t obvious by now — yeah. my favourite colour is red. has been for years. red + black is a whole era. i don’t just want to write skz dick analysis… i want to bleed it in velvet. p.s. reblog this post like it gave you a hickey p.p.s. tag your bias & cry about it in the notes p.p.p.s. give some love to Flavor click the link or don't

⚠️warnings: : 18+ ONLY (MDNI) — explicit sexual language and themes, kink-based character analysis, dom/sub dynamics, degradation, praise, overstimulation, body worship, size kink, oral fixation, possessive behavior, creampie mentions, implied breeding, power imbalance, aftercare, emotional collapse, use of pet names (e.g. "good girl"), choking, mirror play, neck biting, fear of God inserted through dick game, and aggressive levels of brainrot. all fictional, all consensual, and all unhinged.

🎶now playing: "Flavor" – VX

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

BANG CHAN // 방찬

Length: 6.5" – 7", but it’s not the size that breaks you — it’s the command. It’s the way he angles himself just right, drags it out slow at first, then gives you everything when you’re begging prettily.

Thickness: Thick and hefty, the kind that makes you gasp when he slides in. Veins you can trace with your fingers. Warm, weighty, always throbbing against your thigh when he gets needy.

Stroke Game: Rhythmic. Calculated. Insane. He doesn’t just fuck — he directs. One hand pinning your hips, the other on your throat, whispering “Take it like a good girl. You’re doing so well.” Alternates between deep, punishing thrusts and slow, ruinous rolls that leave your legs shaking. You’ll lose count of your orgasms — he won’t.

Cum: Heavy. Warm. Deep. He always finishes inside — slow thrusts, gritted teeth, holding your hips still as he fills you up. Groans in your ear, “Fuck, you take me so well.” The kind that drips out for hours and makes you blush when you shift in your seat the next day. Breeds you like he means it, like it’s a ritual, not a reflex.

Dick Game Verdict: He doesn’t just fuck you — he orchestrates your undoing. With precision. With obsession. With love so filthy it makes you sob. You’ll forget your name. You’ll remember his.

Lee Know // 리노

Length: 6.5" — sleek and sculpted like everything else he owns. Elegant curve, perfect for that spot. His hips do most of the talking. He knows what he’s working with.

Thickness: Just enough to make you stretch and shudder. Not monstrous — but deceptively perfect. Every thrust feels like a calculated violation of your sanity. Fit like a lockpick, not a sledgehammer.

Stroke Game: Deliberate. Cruel. Precise. The kind of man who watches your face while you fall apart and smiles. He’ll edge you with shallow strokes until you’re begging, then snap his hips once and have you seeing stars. Minimal movement, maximum destruction.

Cum: Warm. Coats your insides with slow thrusts and low moans. Doesn’t always finish inside — sometimes he likes to paint your stomach, your thighs, your tongue. But when he does finish in you, he makes you stay full. “Don’t let a drop go to waste.” Then fingers it back in while whispering, “Good girl.”

Dick Game Verdict: Not loud. Not messy. Just lethal. He’ll fuck you like a science. Break you in silence. Leave you so ruined, you’ll flinch when someone says his name. He never rushes. Because he knows — when he’s done? You’ll never look at anyone else the same again.

Changbin // 창빈

Length: 6" — don’t let the number fool you. It’s the girth that has you blacking out mid-thrust. Short king? Try wrecking ball. When he slides in, you feel every inch, every time. You’ll swear it grew mid-session. It didn’t. Your walls are just traumatized.

Thickness: Unholy. We’re talking stretch-your-soul level. You’ll see stars before he even bottoms out. Has that heavy, veiny, “you’re not ready for this” kind of presence. Leaves you breathless, wrecked, and praying for a second round you know you can’t survive.

Stroke Game: Rhythmic. Punishing. Zero brakes. Thrusts like a gym playlist — fast, powerful, relentless. No teasing, no build-up — just impact. You’re folded in half, being pounded like a drumline, choking on your own moans while he’s still breathing steady. “C’mon, baby. You can take it.”

Cum: Heavy. Sticky. Endless. Loves finishing inside — but also loves watching it drip out of you. Will thumb it back in just to see you flinch. Grabs your chin after and says, “What’s wrong, baby? Thought you wanted all of me.” Leaves bruises. Leaves marks. Leaves memory loss.

Dick Game Verdict: He’s not just built. He’s built for destruction. You’ll scream. You’ll tap out. You’ll beg — and he’ll just tilt his head and go, “Already?” Sex with him isn’t just a night. It’s a full-body event. And he’s the headline, main act, and afterparty.

Hyunjin // 현진

Length: 7 – 7.5" — long, elegant, dangerous. The type that makes you gasp when he pushes in slowly, watching your face with hooded eyes like he knew it would hit that deep. Fills you up like he’s been dreaming about it for days.

Thickness: Sleek but firm — a velvet blade. Enough to stretch you, but it’s the depth he reaches that changes you. The curve? Unfair. Like it was sculpted to kiss your g-spot just to hear what you sound like when you lose composure.

Stroke Game: Flowy. Deliberate. Unfathomably deep. He starts slow. One hand gripping your thigh, the other tilted under your chin, lips barely touching yours. Once you’re a whimpering mess? He speeds up just enough to overwhelm you. The hips don’t lie — and they destroy. “Take all of it, baby. I’m not stopping.”

Cum: Slow, hot, emotional. Finishes deep with long strokes, burying himself fully as he breathes your name like a prayer. Moans in your ear while holding your waist tight. Likes to cum inside — watches it drip out with dazed eyes and kisses you between the legs like an apology.

Dick Game Verdict: He doesn’t fuck. He haunts. Every moan is a poem. Every thrust is a love letter sealed with bruises. He’ll make you feel like a canvas and leave your body shaking like he wrote a sonnet with his hips. You’ll walk home sore and smiling. And you’ll want him again immediately.

Han // 한

6" — average but deceptively powerful. It’s not the size that ends you. It’s the way he uses it — every thrust hitting just right because he’s memorized every inch of your body like it’s his favorite song. You’ll forget air exists.

Thickness: Slightly girthy with just the right stretch. Has that perfect snug fit — enough to make you gasp, never too much to tap out early. Just the way he likes it: “I wanna feel all of you squeezing around me.”

Stroke Game: Fast. Desperate. Unhinged. He fucks like he’s trying to get you addicted. Starts off whimpering and soft, then kicks into overdrive when you praise him. Slams into you with frantic rhythm like his soul depends on it. You’re drooling, overstimulated, and he’s still muttering, “One more. Just one more, please.” (Lie. It’s never just one.)

Cum: Hot, fast, everywhere. Finishes with a long, desperate groan — body trembling, fingers digging into your hips. Might cum inside without realizing because he’s too far gone. Or on your chest while panting apologies like “I couldn’t hold it, you were too good.”

Dick Game Verdict: He’s your emotional support slut. Will rail you to pieces and then cry in your arms. Sex with him feels like a confession, a breakdown, and a fireworks show all in one. You don’t just cum — you ascend.

Felix // 필릭스

Length: 6.5" – 7" — smooth and beautiful. Not too much. Not too little. It’s the kind of dick you see once and think about forever. The first thrust always makes your breath hitch — not because of size, but because of how intentional it feels. Like he’s been waiting for this.

Thickness: Just right — sleek and filling. Perfect pressure, perfect stretch, perfect rhythm. You don’t get overwhelmed, you get hooked. Hits that spot and stays there, grinding slow, deep, and steady until you’re breathless.

Stroke Game: Deep. Rhythmic. Lethal. The slow strokes kill you. It’s the way he grinds, chest pressed to yours, whispering soft filth in that low voice — “You’re so pretty like this… all mine.” Will go harder if you ask, but he prefers to fuck you through eye contact and emotional damage. Makes you melt, then makes you moan.

Cum: Warm, slow, and intensely possessive. Finishes with a deep groan and wraps his arms around you instantly. Fills you up and doesn’t pull out — “I wanna stay like this a little longer.” Watches it leak out of you with a dazed look and kisses your trembling thighs.

Dick Game Verdict: He doesn’t just make love — he devours your soul. You’ll cry, you’ll shake, you’ll feel cherished and wrecked. Sex with Felix is like being adored into submission. You’ll never recover — and you’ll never want to.

Seungmin // 승민

Length: 6" — but don’t get comfortable. He doesn’t need to be huge — the control, the angles, the timing is what sends you to the ER. Slides in like he’s done it a thousand times in his head. Because he has. “Told you I’d fit perfectly.”

Thickness: Sleek and dangerous. Just enough to fill you right — just enough to make you squirm. He lives for the moment you exhale and say, “Oh my god…” because he already knew it would feel that good. He's been patient. Calculating. Now you're his problem.

Stroke Game: Controlled. Cruel. Clinical. Each thrust is calculated. Each change in rhythm is intentional. The kind of sex where he grabs your jaw mid-stroke, leans in with a smirk, and says: “You’re so loud. You trying to get caught?” You’ll cry. He’ll coo. And then he’ll go deeper.

Cum: Hot. Possessive. Intentional. Loves cumming inside — and watching it leak. Will plug you up with his fingers and say, “You’re not wasting a drop.” Doesn’t make a sound when he finishes — just a quiet gasp and clenched jaw like he’s in complete control even now.

Dick Game Verdict: He’s a fucking weapon. Not loud. Not flashy. Just precision-based annihilation. He’ll gaslight you into thinking it wasn’t even that intense — while you’re still shaking 30 minutes later. You’ll never win. But you’ll beg to lose again.

I.n // 아이엔

Length: 6.5" — a sleeper hit. You don’t expect it to hit like that… until it does. And then you’re arching, twitching, grabbing sheets with a voice you didn’t know you had. He gives you that deep, shaky breath before sliding in like, “Tell me if it’s too much.” (It is. But you won’t dare say no.)

Thickness: Slim but deadly. Slides in too easily. And that’s the trap. He gets deeper than he should, hits angles that make you shiver, and then stays there. Tilts his hips, watches your eyes roll back, and just smiles. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Stroke Game: Evolving. Dangerous. Addictive. At first, he watches you — every gasp, twitch, stutter. Then one day he finds a rhythm that makes you break and he never lets it go. From then on, it’s deep, slow, purposeful fucking. Holds your hands down. Bites your neck. Makes you beg with a soft whisper: “Louder, baby. Let them hear who owns you.”

Cum: Hot, messy, unexpectedly filthy. Finishes with a choked gasp and a twitchy thrust, still buried inside you, whispering your name. Then collapses on top of you, breathless and shaking. Sometimes asks if he can stay in a little longer. Sometimes goes again while you’re still twitching.

Dick Game Verdict: He is the sweetest weapon you’ll ever encounter. You think it’s cute until your legs are shaking, your brain’s gone, and he’s pulling you in for another round with a soft, dangerous smile. He didn’t ask to break you — but now that he has? He’ll never let anyone else put you back together.

[mathildeaquisexta]

How to search for a specific document on the French National Archives website?

I'm going to use this post by @montagnarde1793 as an example because it's very convenient for me: she perfectly noted the archive's class mark and she chose a document that requires going through several files.

Here we have a letter from the Comité de Salut Public by Barère, Prieur de la Côte d'Or and Billaud-Varenne and adressed to Prieur de la Marne. The details are as follows:

There is a lot of informations. They have to be decoded one by one. For now, only those details are important :

"AN" means "Archives Nationales". So the virtual reading room of the Archives Nationales is the most suitable website to conduct researches if you live far away from Paris and cannot go directly. This is what their home page is supposed to look like.

Okay now, remember the following numbers provided by montagnarde1793 right after the "AN" ? "AF II 37" ? This is the archive's class mark, its identity card. Now, we are going to use it.

Now, we see that that we put the right number and it is giving us the following information : the letter comes indeed from an archival fund produced by the Comité de Salut Public, it is stored in Saint-Denis, and it is available to be "Reserved" or "Added to the class marks cart". For now, we ignore those. We only click on the number.

And here appears a problem: the number exists twice, in two different places. I started by looking at the first fund, but it soon became clear that it didn't contain what I was looking for (here, the AF/II/37 call mark referred to naval affairs, which doesn't correspond to the document published by montagnarde1793), so the right link must be the second one.

So we click on the second link and we end up on this page.

We don't care about the general presentation of the fund because we are searching for a specific item so we directly go to dig into the details.

Okay. We know we have to click on the last link titled "Comité de Salut public. Cartons." because we already know the letter we are looking for is a CSP document and AF/II/37 is obviously somewhere between AF/II/20 and AF/II/42. And now we keep searching for AF/II/37 until we find it.

Now, remember the informations provided by montagnarde1793 ? The rest of the numbers is finally going to be useful.

Oh, it's here !

And finally :

AHAH, HERE IT IS !

And you found the document. Good job ! <3

[thecuriousbeauty]

Different Frequencies- Part III (Harry Styles!Au x autistic!reader)

Series Synopsis- College heartthrob and football captain Harry Styles needs extra credit to survive the year. His only shot? Mentoring Y/N, a brilliant but blunt autistic student who couldn’t care less about his charm. What starts as an obligation soon sparks something neither of them expected.

A/N:- Most awaited Part 3! Please like and reblog if you like it, and here's the link to Part 1 and Part 2 if you haven't checked those out yet. Now gear up for lots of soft fluff!

Warnings: Talks of abuse, mild violence.

Word count: 6,043

_________________________________

The soft buzz of chatter and the clink of dice filled the air, mingling with the scent of melted cheese, warm chocolate, and too many fizzy drinks. The Game Den, a cozy corner café was a haven for people who liked their socializing with a side of strategy and snacks.

y/n was in her element.

Curled into the corner booth, she arranged her game tokens with careful precision, sleeves tugged halfway over her palms. Her eyes scanned the board like it was a puzzle only she could decode, and she looked completely at peace doing it. The golden glow from the overhead fairy lights caught the curve of her smile as Zayn cracked open another can of soda beside her.

Harry, on the other hand, looked like he’d wandered into a high-level math exam by accident.

“Okay, so, if I land here,” he said, pointing to a space marked with a tiny wizard hat and a skull, “do I fight the goblin, or summon a storm?”

y/n tried to hold back a laugh and failed. “No! That’s the negotiation tile.”

“The what now?”

Zayn grinned, sliding a card toward him. “You barter with the next player. If they roll a five or higher, they get your amulet. If you roll a six, you steal their spellbook.”

Harry blinked. “This is illegal. I’m reporting both of you.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong.,” y/n said, wondering what made him say that. Then it slowly clicks. “Wait..that was a joke, right?”

“Yes, Cherry, it was a joke.”, Harry grins, poking her nose and her cheeks tint a little red.

“You already signed the wizard code, by the way.”

“I what?”

She giggled, and the sound, soft, sudden, real, hit Harry like warm sunlight through stained glass. He didn’t care that he was losing miserably. He didn’t care that he had absolutely no clue what the rules were. She was laughing, and for the first time in days, she looked light again. Not floating, but steady. Present.

They played for two hours, switching games mid-way and half-finishing a plate of curly fries while Zayn waged war against the soda machine and Harry tried to convince Y/N that his strategy of “vibes only” would eventually pay off.

It didn’t.

When their energy mellowed and their fingers were sticky from too much candy, they found themselves in the quiet back booth, arms brushing now and then as they leaned in over the table.

“Leah told me everything’s fine,” Y/N said softly, her voice different now, flattened, quiet. Her eyes didn’t lift from her drink.

Zayn, halfway through a caramel pretzel, froze.

“She actually said that?” he asked, wiping his fingers on a napkin.

Y/N nodded. “She said he didn’t mean it. That he just gets angry sometimes. That he loves her.”

Harry’s stomach twisted. He pushed his fries away, appetite gone. “That’s bullshit.”

“Harry,” Zayn warned gently, but the sharpness in Harry’s eyes didn’t fade.

“No, I mean it. Darren’s a dick. I’ve seen the way he talks to people. He’s a walking red flag. The guy’s had three warnings already this semester from Coach.”

“Yeah, but warnings about his attitude in practice,” Zayn pointed out. “That’s not the same as this.”

“He’s dangerous,” Harry muttered. “All I need is something solid to get him off the team. Just one reason.”

y/n looked down at her hands, quiet. “But Leah doesn’t want to report anything. She says it’s her choice.”

“It is,” Zayn said gently. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do something.”

“I can talk to Darren, it’s probably end in a fight but if I can get him to-”

“-No, no fights.”, y/n cuts Harry off and Harry nods, pressing his lips together. “Then you just have to get through to Leah..any other ideas?”

“We could keep an eye out for any other abusive instances.”, Zayn says.

The evening began to wind down as other patrons started clearing their tables, folding boards, and placing cards back into boxes with reluctant goodbyes. Someone flicked the lights above the café door, a subtle nudge that it was almost closing time.

y/n stretched her arms over her head with a small yawn, the kind she tried to hide behind her sleeve.

Harry smiled at the sight.

“You okay?” he asked, sliding the empty fry basket to the side.

She nodded. “Tired, but… yeah. This was good.”

Zayn stood, brushing crumbs from his hoodie. “We should do it again. Maybe next week?”

y/n turned to Harry, uncertain. “Would you… come again?”

He raised his eyebrows, mock serious. “Even after getting destroyed by the ‘Wizard’s Union of Honor and Card-Stealing’? I’d be honored.”

She laughed again, softer now. Her shoulders didn’t look so tense anymore.

As they walked out into the cool evening, the sidewalk quiet under their feet, Zayn had parked the car somewhere at the back, he ran off saying he’d go get it and pull up. That left just Y/N and Harry.

They stood near the curb for a beat, neither quite ready to say goodbye.

“So,” Harry said, rocking back on his heels a little. “We’ve officially eaten our weight in carbs and lost all sense of board game logic. Want to take it to the next level?”

Y/N blinked at him, confused again. 

He grinned. “Come to my game. Day after, evening. Home match. You don’t have to stay long if it’s too much, but..I'd really like it if you were there.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You want me to come watch you play?”

“I do,” he said, more gently this time. “It’s loud, yeah. But I can save you a seat. Somewhere quieter. You’d be safe. I’ll make sure of it.”

She hesitated, not out of fear, but out of surprise.

Then, after a second, she gave a tiny nod. “Okay. I’ll try.”

His smile broke slowly across his face, wider than he intended, and warmer than he could hide.

“Good,” he said. “It’s a date.”

She looked up sharply, eyes wide again.

He backpedaled instantly. “I mean, not a date date. Unless you want it to be? Or we could pretend I didn’t say that. Up to you.”

Y/N bit her lip, hiding another smile. “Okay.”

“Okay, okay or okay to ignore it?”

She turned and started walking toward the dorms, her voice drifting behind her like a ribbon. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Styles.”

Harry stood there a second longer, watching her disappear down the sidewalk, heart doing something stupid in his chest.

Then he exhaled, shoved his hands in his pockets, and grinned at the empty street.

_____________________________________________

The squeak of sneakers and the sharp echo of bouncing balls filled the gym. Whistles blew. Sweat dripped. The energy was off.

And Harry felt it crawling under his skin.

Darren was playing like the court belonged to him. Hogging the ball, ignoring plays, showboating with unnecessary spins, and shooting from angles that made zero sense.

“Pass it, Darren!” Harry barked as he ran for an opening.

Darren ignored him and launched a wild three-pointer that hit the rim and bounced hard off the backboard.

Missed. Again.

“That fucking shithead.”, Nate groaned, the rest of the players murmuring curses as well. 

Coach blew the whistle. Hard.

“Enough!” he snapped. “We play as a team or we don’t play at all.”

Harry clenched his jaw. His fists were already twitching. Not just because of the selfish play, but because every time he looked at Darren, all he could hear was y/n’s voice from last night.

He didn’t mean it. He loves her…

Bullshit.

“Get it together,” Coach growled, throwing Darren a sharp look. “One more screw-up and you’re benched for game day.”

Darren muttered something under his breath and jogged to the bench, sulking like a child.

“Harry?” Harry realizes Nate was talking to him and unclenches his fists, slowly moving his gaze away from Darren. “I was saying how coach himself will throw him out soon if he keeps this up.”

“I hope he does.”, Harry mumbles. The only reason why Darren was still in the team was because he is a good player. Doesn’t miss the basket often. Only if he gets in his head too much.

Practice ended ten minutes early. Coach stormed off and the players scattered.

“Not coming mate?”, Nate asks him as Harry head’s towards the locker room. “I’ll catch up, you get going.”

Harry stayed back, and so did Darren.

The locker room was nearly empty when Harry finally walked in, towel over his neck, sweat still cooling on his back.

Darren was at his locker, shirtless, humming like nothing happened. Harry didn’t wait.

He slammed his locker shut with a loud bang that echoed through the room.

Darren didn’t flinch. Just smirked over his shoulder. “Problem, Captain?”

Harry stepped in close, voice low but sharp. “You’re done. One more stunt, one more attitude, and I’m taking it to Coach. All of it.”

Darren raised an eyebrow. “What’s all of it, huh?”

Harry stared him down. “You and Leah. I know.”

Darren scoffed. “You know nothing.”

“I know enough.”

There was a moment of silence, heavy and charged. Then Darren turned around fully, tossing a shirt over his shoulder as he sneered.

“Oh, wait. This is about that little weirdo you’ve been babysitting, isn’t it?”

Harry’s jaw tensed.

Darren leaned in mockingly. “She got you wrapped around her quiet little fingers? I saw her, all twitchy and awkward. Speaks so damn slow and looks like she’s in play school still. Heard she’s quite stupid and hopeless. Freaks like that are easy to-”

Crack.

The punch came before Harry could think. It landed hard, knuckles against jaw, skin against bone.

Darren staggered back, hitting the locker door behind him.

“Say her name again,” Harry snarled, his voice shaking with fury. “Go ahead. I dare you.”

Darren wiped blood from the corner of his lip, staring up at him. His cocky grin was gone now. “You just screwed yourself.”

Harry didn’t back down. “No. You did. And if I hear anything about you putting your hands on Leah again, or so much as breathing in y/n’s direction, I will make it my entire mission to make sure you lose everything. Team, scholarship, reputation, everything.”

Darren glared, chest heaving.

Harry turned and walked out before he could throw another punch. His heart was still pounding, but not from adrenaline.

It was rage. 

____________________________________________

A half-empty coffee cup sat forgotten beside Harry’s open textbook, and he hadn’t turned a page in fifteen minutes.

y/n noticed.

She sat across from him, legs tucked under the chair, her pencil tapping lightly against the edge of her notes. She tilted her head slightly, studying him, noticing the way he kept drumming his fingers on the table, how his eyes kept flicking to the window like something outside was pulling at him.

“You’re not reading,” she said quietly, touching the tip of the pencil to his nose.

Harry blinked, startled out of his thoughts. “Huh?”

“You’ve looked at the same sentence four times.”

He dropped his gaze and gave a sheepish shrug. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… got a lot on my mind.”

She hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Is something wrong?”

He looked up at her then, her eyes soft and searching, and immediately felt bad for not being fully there.

“No. Nothing’s wrong. I think I’m just… nervous. Big game tonight.”

Y/N nodded slowly, accepting the explanation, though she didn’t entirely buy it. Still, she didn’t push.

Instead, she smiled a little. “I’ve never been to a basketball game before.”

That caught his attention.

His lips quirked into a grin. “Seriously?”

She shook her head. “Not even one. I don’t know the rules. Or… where to look.”

Harry leaned back in his chair, suddenly amused and more relaxed than he’d been all morning. “Alright, well… it’s not rocket science.”

“Zayn has said that to me before. He said the same for social cues, and it’s not true.,” she rambled.

He laughed and the tension in his shoulders finally began to ease.

“Fair point,” he said, grinning. “Okay, let’s do a crash course.”

He pulled his notebook toward him and drew a rough outline of a court. “This is the hoop. You want the ball to go in the hoop. Not rocket science. We’ve got five players on each team. Two guards, two forwards, and a center.”

“You?”

“Me? I’m point guard. I run the plays. Set up passes. Kind of like the guy with the map.”

“So you’re the map guy.”

“Exactly. Except if the map guy is also yelling and sweating and trying not to get elbowed in the ribs.”

She leaned forward, chin resting on her hand. “Is it dangerous?”

“Nah, I’ll stay safe.”, he smiles, leaning towards her too.

“I’ll be honest,” she said, voice softer now, “I’m a little scared. The noise. The crowd.”

“I get that,” he said gently. “I’ll save you a seat near the front, by the benches. It’s not as loud there. Less people. Coach will be cool with it.”

Her eyes flicked up to his, grateful.

“I’ll be okay,” she said, more to herself than him.

“I’ll make sure of it,” he promised, without hesitation. He reached out to gently tuck away a strand of her hair that came out of her side braid, behind her ear. y/n just smiled but her heart beat just a little faster at his soft gesture.

“Green.”, she whispered, her focus shifting. 

“What’s that, Cherry?”, Harry watches as her eyes focus on his, which rarely happens. 

“Your eyes, green like the forest. There’s gold too, like..like sunlight and the left one has more brown around the iris.”

Her brain panicked a little, maybe she made things weird and said too much. She quickly looked down. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I think about yours too.”, Harry mumbled and his gentle, warm fingers grab her chin and tilt it up so she looks at him again. “They’re soft. Quiet, but not dull. Like they’re always thinking ten layers deeper than what you say out loud. You know, even if it’s for a few seconds, I love it when you give me your eyes, Cherry.”

She took a few seconds to process what he meant and when she did, she felt warmth unfurl in her chest. And she was still maintaining her eye contact with him, his green eyes staying still too. 

She realized that she was starting to trust him. With her words, and with her eyes.

______________________________

y/n stood in front of her bedroom mirror, staring at herself like she wasn’t quite sure who she was tonight.

It was just a basketball game.

Except it wasn’t.

It was his game. And she was going for him.

She tugged at the sleeves of her soft navy sweater and smoothed her jeans, mentally checking the list of things she needed. Fidget cube. Water bottle. Small weighted lap pad folded into her tote bag, just in case. She didn’t know what the bleachers would feel like. Or how loud it might be. But she was going. Because he asked.

A quiet knock came at her door, and then her mom peeked in. “You look great, honey.”

y/n turned, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s not… too much?”

Her mom smiled. “It’s just right. He’s going to love seeing you there.”

She blushed. “It’s not..it’s not a date.”

Her mom raised an eyebrow. “Mm-hmm.”

Before she could protest, a honk sounded from outside.

“Zayn,” she muttered.

Her mom pulled her into a hug before she left. “Be safe. Text me when you get there. And after. And if you need to come home early—”

“I know,” y/n said softly. “I’ve got it.”

And strangely… she really felt like she did.

Zayn had music playing low, one hand on the wheel and a smug grin on his face.

“So,” he said, after five whole minutes of silence, “are you gonna tell me what you’re wearing under that sweater, or do I have to assume it’s ‘I heart Harry’ merch?”

She groaned. “Zayn—”

“I mean, I get it,” he teased. “Hot basketball guy? You? Mentorship turned romance? It’s giving a YA novel realness.”

She turned her face toward the window, biting back a reluctant smile. “It’s not a date.”

He snorted. “He invited you to his game, is sitting you front row, probably gonna win MVP while looking at you dramatically mid-free throw… Yeah, alright. Not a date.”

She sighed, cheeks hot. “You’re annoying.”

“Extremely. Also, if he so much as breathes wrong near you, I’m throwing hands. Don’t care how pretty he is.”

y/n laughed quietly, and Zayn’s smile softened at the sound.

“You okay, though?” he asked more gently. “We don’t have to stay the whole time.”

“I think I’m okay,” she said. “I want to try.”

And she did.

The moment they walked into the gym, the shift hit her like a wave. Lights. Noise. Movement. A dull roar of voices. The smell of popcorn and sweat and the sharp echo of basketballs bouncing.

y/n’s fingers found her tote bag instinctively, grounding herself.

And then she saw him.

Harry.

He was already walking toward them, towel slung around his neck, jersey half untucked, curls wild and damp with pre-game sweat. The second his eyes landed on her, his face changed, lit up in a way she’d never quite seen before.

“You made it,” he said, a little breathless. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she managed, voice soft.

Zayn gave Harry a look, protective and unreadable. Harry gave him a polite nod, then turned his full attention back to Y/N.

“I saved you a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the far side, near the team bench. “It’s quieter over there. You’re not too close to the student section.”

As they walked, he pulled something from behind his back. “Also… got these for you.”

Noise cancelling headphones. And it was a baby pink shade. 

“I figured it might get loud,” he said, trying to sound casual, but his voice held a nervous edge. “And uh, I also brought those chewy mints you like. For, you know. Sensory stuff. Read that it helps.”

She stared at him.

“I just wanted to make it easier,” he said, quieter now. 

For a long second, she didn’t speak. Just stood there, heart doing strange and sudden things.No one had ever done that for her before. She didn’t know what to say, so she just gave a tiny nod and mouthed, thank you.

His smile returned, softer, just for her.

“I have to go warm up,” he said reluctantly, already backing away. “But I’ll see you after, yeah?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

He turned, jogged a few steps, then looked back, just once. Like he had to make sure she was still there.

_______________________________________

Harry reached the bench, jaw tight again.

Because he felt it.

Eyes.

Darren.

Sitting just across the court, lacing his sneakers with a slow, mocking smirk on his face. He was watching Harry, like he knew something.

Like he was waiting.

Harry’s fists clenched.

He didn’t care if he threw another punch tonight. Didn’t care if it cost him the game. The season.

But if Darren so much as looked at y/n the wrong way-

He’d bury him.

He scanned the crowd one more time, just to be sure. And there she was, settling into her seat beside Zayn. But something else made his stomach twist.

Leah.

Sitting only a few seats down from Y/N, alone.

Too close.

Harry tore his eyes away and jogged back toward the huddle, trying to shake it off.

Focus. Play. Win.

And after that?

He’d deal with Darren. One way or another.

The gym was electric.

Music pumped through the speakers. Students screamed in waves. Sneakers squeaked across the polished floor. The scoreboard buzzed as the numbers climbed. Harry’s team was holding the lead, but barely.

Y/N sat near the bench with Zayn beside her, hands pressed against the warm cup of cocoa he’d insisted on getting her from the vending machine outside. Her headphones dulled the roar of the crowd to something distant, like waves crashing behind thick glass. She breathed easier because of it.

But she was still watching him.

Harry.

Number 7.

He moved across the court like he belonged to it. Fast, sharp, focused. But every few minutes, after a pass, a rebound, or a timeout, his eyes found her again. Quick glances. Like silent check-ins. She didn’t know how he always knew where she was, but he did.

“Damn,” a girl a few rows behind her giggled to her friend, loud enough to hear through one ear cup. “Is it just me or is Harry Styles actually looking over here?”

y/n smiled faintly.

He was.

But not at them.

She didn’t need to turn around to feel their curious stares. She just lowered her eyes to the cocoa again, her fingers curling a little tighter around the cup.

She didn’t need to say anything.

She knew.

The buzzer rang and players jogged off the court toward the locker rooms. The gym roared around them, full of cheers and music, and Zayn got up to stretch.

“I’ll grab you a protein bar,” he said, heading toward concessions.

y/n gave a small nod.

She didn’t notice Leah until she was already beside her.

“Hey.”

The voice made her turn, and the tone made her stomach twist.

Leah looked pale, too thin, her hands shaking slightly as she folded her arms over her chest. Her makeup was smudged in the corner of one eye. She didn’t look like someone enjoying a basketball game.

She looked like someone trying not to fall apart.

y/n sat up straighter. “Leah… are you—”

“You need to stop,” Leah cut in quickly, eyes darting around. “This thing you’re doing. Trying to tell people something’s wrong.”

y/n froze.

“He didn’t do anything,” Leah said, too fast, too rehearsed. “We’re good. We’ve worked things out. You misunderstood.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did,” Leah insisted, voice a little louder now. “Just… drop it, okay? I know you think you’re helping, but you’re not. You’re making it worse.”

And there it was.

y/n could see it. In Leah’s trembling hands. The way her eyes never met hers. The small flinch when a loud whistle echoed across the gym.

He’d threatened her.

y/n’s heart ached.

“Did Darren tell you to say that?” she asked quietly.

Leah blinked hard, jaw tightening. “Just leave us alone. Please.”

And before Y/N could say anything, she was gone. She was distracted for the rest of the game, repeatedly running the conversation with Leah in her head, her body cues, her tone, everything.

The buzzer blared, the crowd roared, and just like that it was over.

Victory.

Harry’s team had won.

Confetti cannons went off somewhere near the student section (probably Niall’s idea), and people were flooding the court before the players could even make it to the benches. Teammates clapped Harry on the back, ruffled his hair, shouted his name like he was royalty.

But all he was looking for… was her.

And there she was, still in the same seat, standing up now, hands clasped in front of her, headphones pulled off, eyes wide.

He pushed through the crowd to reach her, breath still heavy from the last quarter.

“You saw that?” he asked, grinning like a kid. “You watched the whole thing?”

y/n smiled, a little softer than before as she gives him a victory pat on the shoulder. “You were incredible.”

His heart swelled.

But before he could say anything else, Niall threw an arm around his neck, dragging him backward.

“C’mon, Styles! Team photo! You can flirt later!”

Harry groaned but let himself be pulled back, looking over his shoulder. “Don’t leave! I’ll be right back!”

She nodded.

But she didn’t say anything.

___________________________________

y/n turned to sit again but before she could reach the bench, a voice cut through the noise behind her.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come.”

She froze.

Darren.

He stepped beside her, too close, his breath hot with sweat and something sour. His smile was twisted like it always was when no one was watching.

“You’ve got a real hero complex, huh?” he said, voice low so no one else could hear. “Trying to fix things that aren’t yours?”

“I’m not trying to-”

“You are,” he snapped, eyes narrowing. “And you need to stop. Leah’s fine. We’re fine. Whatever Harry thinks he knows, he doesn’t. And if you don’t want things getting messy for you, you’ll keep it that way.”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

He leaned in, voice a whisper of venom. “I’ll say this one last time. Drop it.”

Then, just like that, he slipped back into the crowd, smiling, laughing, blending in like he hadn’t just poisoned the air around her.

_____________________________

Harry was finally free from the circle of teammates and photos and coach talk. He ran back to the bench, looking for her and found her standing quietly, arms wrapped around herself, her eyes distant.

“Hey,” he said, gently touching her arm. “You okay?”

She blinked, like coming out of a trance. “Yeah. Just tired. I think… I want to go home.”

His smile faltered. “Right. Yeah, of course. Do you want me to drop you or-?”

“Zayn said he’d drive,” she interrupted quickly, her voice light but hollow.

Harry frowned, searching her face. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I am,” she said. Too fast.

He didn’t believe her. But he could already see Coach waving him over, teammates calling his name again.

“I’ll text you later?” he offered, reluctantly stepping back.

She nodded, forcing a smile. “Good game, Harry.”

He watched her walk away with a strange ache in his chest.

Something was wrong.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

__________________________________________

y/n sat curled into the far end of Zayn’s couch, legs folded under her, hands wrapped around a mug she hadn’t sipped from in an hour. Her eyes were on the rug, distant. It was the next day, and her radio silence with both the boys had made them curious, or rather concerned.

Zayn paced.

Harry sat in the corner armchair, elbows on knees, bouncing one leg restlessly. He’d come over as soon as she stopped responding to his texts, because something was wrong, and he couldn’t stand not knowing.

“I just don’t get it,” Zayn muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not saying anything. Either of you.”

“Because we’re trying not to overwhelm her,” Harry said, a little sharper than he meant to.

y/n didn’t react.

Harry turned to her again, more gentle now. “y/n… did Darren do something to you? At the game?”

She blinked. Slowly.

Zayn looked between them, brow furrowed. “Wait, why Darren? What does he have to do with anything?”

Harry’s mouth opened, then shut. He exhaled through his nose.

Zayn stared at him. “Harry.”

“...After practice the other day,” Harry started, reluctantly. “He said something. About her. About y/n. It was disgusting. I hit him.”

Zayn stared. “You what?”

“I didn’t tell you because—” Harry glanced at Y/N. “I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. I thought I could handle it. And I thought maybe he wouldn’t try anything.”

Zayn’s jaw locked. “He talked about her how, exactly?”

Harry looked away. “You don’t want to know.”

“No, see-I do want to know,” Zayn snapped. “Because I let her go to that game, Harry. I left her there while you were taking photos and Darren was, what? Circling her like a fucking vulture?”

“Nothing happened,” Harry said quickly. “I swear.”

“But he could have! You knew he had a problem with her and you still—”

“Stop.”

Both boys froze.

Y/N’s voice wasn’t loud. But it cut straight through them like a knife.

She looked up slowly, eyes clearer now, voice shaking but steady.

“Just stop.”

Zayn swallowed, guilt pooling in his throat. “y/n-”

“You’re both talking about me like I’m not sitting right here,” she said. “Like I’m not the one who got threatened. Twice.”

Harry went quiet. So did Zayn.

She put the mug down. Stood up.

“I know he’s dangerous. I know Leah’s scared. I know none of this is easy. But I’m not made of glass, okay?”

Harry stepped toward her, careful. “We’re not trying to treat you like-”

“Then don’t,” she said. “Don’t yell at each other and keep secrets and make decisions without me. I’m tired of everyone trying to protect me by excluding me.”

They both looked gutted.

Zayn cleared his throat. “Okay. You’re right.”

Harry nodded. “You are.”

y/n’s voice was quieter now, but still firm. “What we need to do now is stop panicking and think. Because Darren isn’t going to stop. And if Leah won’t speak up… then we have to figure out what comes next.”

Harry looked at her with something close to awe.

She wasn’t shaking anymore.

She was steady.The living room had shifted.

No more pacing. No more arguing. Just three people sitting on the floor, a half-empty snack bowl between them, and tension humming like static in the air.

Zayn had a pen in hand, tapping it against his knee. Harry was cross-legged, frowning at nothing. y/n sat between them, blanket draped around her shoulders, focused in a way they hadn’t seen since before the game.

“She won’t say anything,” y/n said, breaking the silence. “Not unless she feels safe.”

Zayn nodded. “Then we make her feel safe. Pull her aside at school.”

Harry shook his head. “That won’t work. He watches her. All the time. He’s like... attached.”

“Then what?” Zayn muttered. “We can’t go to the dean with nothing but vibes and bruises we haven’t seen.”

Y/N was quiet for a second. Then: “What if we don’t ask her to come forward?”

They both looked at her.

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said slowly, “what if we find a way to prove it without needing her to speak first? Something he’s already done. Or is going to do.”

Zayn leaned forward. “Like… catching him in the act?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not baiting him. That’s dangerous. But maybe… maybe we just need Leah to know she has a way out.”

There was a pause.

Then Harry’s voice came low.

“What if we talk to someone she trusts?”

“Does she even have anyone else?” Zayn asked. “She’s always with him.”

“Maybe we’ve just never seen her alone long enough to know.”

y/n looked down at the blanket around her, then back up.

“I can try,” she said. “I know how to be quiet. Invisible, even. That’s what people expect from me. But I see things. If I can find her… just her…”

Harry leaned closer. “You’d do that?”

“I have to.”

Zayn exhaled sharply. “Alright. We try to reach her. We give her a safe out.”

Harry added, “And if she still doesn’t talk, we make sure Darren doesn’t have anywhere left to hide.”

y/n looked between them.

“Then we need a plan.”

Zayn grabbed a notebook, flipping to a blank page, pen at the ready. “Okay. Let’s start with where she goes when she’s not with him—”

Harry’s phone buzzed just then. A text.

He glanced down and tilted his head in thought as he read the message.

y/n saw it immediately. “What?”

Harry didn’t answer at first. He read it again, then looked up, slowly.

“Coach,” he said. “He just texted to ask if I knew where Darren was. Said he never showed up to review.”

Zayn frowned. “Weird. Wait..Leah didn’t show up for the morning class. I heard her friend say that they hadn’t seen her after the game.”

“And you’re telling this now.”, Harry groaned. 

“It was the first class Styles, I was barely awake! And I was busy thinking about what can happen to my grade if I skip my next class because you two losers called an emergency meeting-”

y/n’s fingers tightened in her sleeves.

“Both of them?” she whispered. “Gone?”

Harry nodded. “Looks like no one’s seen either of them since the game.”

The silence in the room turned cold.

y/n swallowed hard. “Then we’re already out of time.”

_____________________________________

Harry jogged down the front steps of the Fine Arts building, phone to his ear. “Nothing. Checked the studio wing, the greenroom, even the vending machines. No Leah. No Darren.”

Zayn’s voice crackled from the other end. “Try the back exit near the theater. I’m heading toward the library now.”

“You sure this isn’t just some Romeo and Juliet ‘run off together’ kind of thing?”

Zayn sighed. “Leah didn’t even look at Darren after the game. She looked… terrified.”

Harry muttered, “Yeah, well, if this is Romeo and Juliet, I hope we skip the dagger-to-the-heart ending.”

He hung up and turned, nearly crashing into y/n.

“Whoa,” he said, grabbing her arms, steadying himself and her. “Didn’t see you there, Cherry.”

She rolled her eyes, and Harry moved his hand to grasp hers, looking into her eyes. “Hey, I want to apologize for not telling you about the locker room incident. I just didn’t want to overwhelm you. But I shouldn’t have kept it from you, I understand it now.”

She nodded, weirdly comforted by his hand in hers. “Okay. Now search.”

Harry smiled, letting her hand go with a kiss on the back of her hand, making her blush furiously. He kept looking at her, so she said, “Not for me, Harry, for Leah.”

“Right. Sorry, Cherry, you’re distracting.”

Zayn joined them a few minutes later, slightly breathless from running. “Nothing at the library. But guess what? One of the assistants said Leah didn’t return her books this morning.”

“She always does that. Like… clockwork.”, Harry said.

“So either she’s sick,” Zayn offered, “or she’s being held hostage in Darren’s basement while he reads her feminist theory books out loud in a threatening tone.”

y/n looked at him. “You’re not helping.”

“Dark humor is a coping mechanism,” he said, hands up. “I’m fragile.”

Harry laughed softly, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Why do I feel like I’m in a true crime documentary and you’re the sidekick who gets us all killed?”

“I might die first,” Zayn agreed solemnly. “But I die hot and beloved.”

y/n looked at both of them and groaned. Why did she have friends like them?

__________________________________________________

“I don’t like this,” Harry murmured, frowning as he slowed. “Something feels… off.”

They were heading down the sloped walkway behind the old Science building, a quieter part of campus students usually avoided unless they had class or were hiding something. Cracked concrete, empty bike racks, the back door of the greenhouse padlocked shut.

Zayn glanced around. “Creepy. This is definitely where I’d lure someone if I were a serial killer.”

“Stop saying stuff like that, Zayn.” y/n  muttered, walking slower now.

Harry stopped.

“Wait.”

He crouched near the base of the wall, beside a utility shed.

“What is it?” Zayn asked, stepping closer.

Harry held up a phone.

A pink case.

Cracked screen.

y/ns heart dropped. “That’s Leah’s.”

Zayn reached for it but Harry was already staring down at the screen.

A message was still open.

One that hadn't been sent.

“Please don’t tell them. I’m fine. Just needed space. Don’t—”

Harry read it aloud, then stood slowly.

“She didn’t get to send it.”

Zayn was quiet for a beat. “This wasn’t just her skipping class.”

Harry looked around again, closer this time. His eyes caught something on the side of the shed.

A mark. Red chalk?

A crude arrow. Pointing toward the woods behind the fencing.

y/n followed his line of sight.

Her stomach twisted.

“Guys,” she whispered. “Darren wants us to follow.”

Zayn squinted. “That’s weirdly theatrical, even for him.”

“No,” Harry said, voice low. “It’s a setup.”

And just then-

A buzz.

Harry’s phone.

One message.

Unknown number.

“So predictable. Come find her.”

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

Please let me know if there are any changes to be made to the tag list.Taglist: -@livypops12352568 @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan, @kiwitsayedsugar, @angeldavis777,@madstyles3204, @youngpastafanmug, @fruity-harry, @wannaliveinparadise@hermionelove@mayalove014 @vikiii07@ell0ra-br3kk3r @thelooneytoon @charlesleclercwifey, @stylesftcher @mads3502 @somewiseguy @huhidontknowstuff @sincerely-yours-marsbar @p3ach-m1lk

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

guilty as sin? masterlist

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

warnings: (specific chapter warnings will be posted at the top of each chapter, before any content) fem!reader, eventual smut, language, mentions of insecurity and mental health, intermittent mentions of disordered eating

notice: if there is an asterisk after any body of work, this indicates that the body of work contains smut and other such adult topics. For more specific parts of the story, please click the links below and you should be able to navigate by chapter, however this will only be available to view once the chapter is published. 18+ only please, and remember, you are in charge of your own reading experience and the media you wish to consume.

chapter one: the bolter

chapter two: making amends

chapter three: in the blink of a crinkling eye

chapter four: who else decodes you?

chapter five: fucking situations, circumstances, miscommunications

chapter six: i think he knows

chapter seven: looming on the horizon

chapter eight: twenty stitches in a hospital room

chapter nine: truth, dare, spin bottles

chapter ten: i don't want you like a best friend

bonus - chapter eleven: he better lock it down*

bonus - chapter twelve: i love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?*

[pforestsims]

🔊 The Sims 2 sound effects - instances list (WIP)

Download txt file (BOX)

Below you'll find a list of The Sims 2 Base game sound resources that I've identified so far, along their instance number - this is for people who'd like to export particular sound, or replace it with something else.

My first attempt at replacing game sound resource with MP3 failed (older sound defaults: less dog barking in hood view and no bed woohoo music were made with resources found in the game files).

I used wrong export settings back then, now I tried MP3 32000 Hz /48kbs and it seems to work fine.

Worth noting - sound duration has to be the same as cutscene (or longer). If it's too short, it gets stretched and becomes too slow.

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

ALL sound resources extracted with SimPe get .MP3 extension, even if it's in fact an .xa file. Most audio players can't open .xa files and will throw an error.

XA format files can be converted to .WAV with Xantippe app. You need to change .mp3 extension to .xa before you open it - if xantippe throws an error that means the file is actually an mp3 or spx.

'Voice' files are almost exclusively spx format, more about that here, post by lingeringwillx @ MTS2 - they created python script to decode it, post includes instructions on how to tell if a resource is .xa or something else.

Lazyduchess has shared a re-encoded version of TS2 spx voice resources, these are mostly mp3 and can be played in any app. (Patreon DL link).

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

How to search for the sound in the game files:

Open TSData folder [The Sims 2 / base game Folder]/TSData/Res/Sound

Open one of these three sound packages in SimPe: Sfx1, Sfx2, Misc. Browse "mp3 or xa Sound File"

open "filter resources" tab on the right, paste Instance number (the last one in a row) and click 'set'

if nothing shows up, drop another sound package into SimPe (Sfx1, Sfx2, Misc) until you see the sound on the resource list.

Instance number is the LAST in a row

[ ? ] - [Instance(high)] - [Group] - [Instance]

example: 2026960B-7F75E59D-0B8AB3CD-FF05C5C6

instance = FF05C5C6

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

Cinematics / Events

(I've only specified if a file is MP3 in a few cases, but there could be more of those. Some sounds have a few versions so I can't guarantee these are actually used in the game)

0C6E3A70-0B8AB3CD-FF45ABBA lost Weight

2026960B-91CC2AC3-0B8AB3CD-FF081A6A giving birth

2026960B-8BB1E2CE-0B8AB3CD-FF2B96EE UFO abduction (an MP3 file)

2026960B-7F75E59D-0B8AB3CD-FF05C5C6 UFO - Sim returns (an MP3 file)

2026960B-8A0F83A5-0B8AB3CD-FFFA7AB9 alien birth

56A9AC78-6B8AB3D7-FFD763E1 plumbing malfunction

A60A0E48-AB8AB3D2-FF660BBF burglar theme

05EA3037-AB8AB3D2-FF838B86 developed a crush

00EC7172-AB8AB3D2-FFB15612 feLL IN LOVE

2026960B-ECDE4BA5-0B8AB3CD-FFF34D2B failed engagement

6F564CA3-AB8AB3D2-FF9F10A7 caught Cheating

2026960B-A1842B83-0B8AB3CD-FF509848 bed woohoo (an MP3 file) this one is used in the game

2026960B-2AA91173-0B8AB3CD-FF0C1673 hottub woohoo (an MP3 file)

2026960B-673DF43D-0B8AB3CD-FFCDA5F8 hottub woohoo, same as above, but louder (an MP3 file) Possibly used in the game but I'm not sure

E3017DDD-0B8AB3CD-FFDE90FB fireworks 1

1D29A473-0B8AB3CD-FF4A709D fireworks 2

4E7A4676-AB8AB3D2-FFDF28E2 Got promoted

2935C11F-AB8AB3D2-FF6777E4 social workers arrive

412D2401-AB8AB3D2-FF9EFAEC death

2026960B-5DE2C0D0-0B8AB3CD-FFABCEC1 ghosts? (creepy ambient)

C49567B9-ADA1F468-FFC79BDF quiet bells, mysterious ambient

9B817E4F-AB8AB3D2-FFC7516B bling !

50C4F377-0B8AB3CD-FFFA3E65 doorbell

5D87D5AE-0B8AB3CD-FFF6A793 nice Doorbell

Nature

2026960B-8E6F500E-0B8AB3CD-FFE90CD9 big fire

2026960B-B91CBC2E-0B8AB3CD-FFC106A2 thunder

2026960B-75C4A7CB-0B8AB3CD-FF441EAE Flies

2026960B-1DDBF5CB-0B8AB3CD-FF69A5A0 slow cicadas

2026960B-1098D312-0B8AB3CD-FF653C56 cicadas

2026960B-3E358AB1-0B8AB3CD-FFD3391C crickets less loud

2026960B-3376AC68-0B8AB3CD-FFDFA0EA crickets / jungle

660B32B0-4CC9E945-FF001DF3 single Cricket

A4890932-4C3E66EE-FFBFF835 single Loud Cricket

14E06D63-4CC9E945-FFAB8C2B very quiet Bird

05E7CF3B-2C3E53D9-FFDD6645 quiet bird 1

36DF6C79-4CC9E945-FF5558D6 quiet bird 2

4C7EC562-2C3E53D9-FFF0046A birds 1

4E1730EB-2C3F70D5-FFF352E8 birds 2

64ADEDB6-2C3E53D9-FF06AFCE single Bird 1

860EE7CD-AC4C568B-FF7A9383 single bird 2

A5961275-6E0A5058-FFDADC9C weird owl or something

C45E6713-2C3F70D8-FF6E98CC Owl hooting

ABC18F4D-4C3F70DE-FF223DA3 single Bird 3

ACA90A53-2C3F70D5-FF11F737 single chirpy Bird

DE814E15-6E0A5058-FFBBEC05 Crow

5A0AAD22-AC4C5684-FFCC9AC5 frogs

electronics /water / machines

49F28038-0B8AB3CD-FF5B3156 blender

E2B508B7-0B8AB3CD-FFC67282 jazuzzi hum

2026960B-7BDA5F0B-0B8AB3CD-FF6CC7D9 jacuzzi Hum 2

2026960B-FA6CA340-0B8AB3CD-FF2B2732 machine 1

2026960B-79FDA8C9-0B8AB3CD-FF39184F quiet car engine

2026960B-A5CCBC84-0B8AB3CD-FF67AFB1 hum

2026960B-51F6E7DF-0B8AB3CD-FFC77487 quiet hum

2026960B-0ACED28F-0B8AB3CD-FF21A07D tub water splash

2026960B-078DF456-0B8AB3CD-FF2D398B tub splash 2

2026960B-EF594603-0B8AB3CD-FF7BF68C machine 2

2026960B-6056339D-0B8AB3CD-FF8DED15 machine 3

2026960B-8FD1A3D8-0B8AB3CD-FFF6B07A water 2

2026960B-F8828DBC-0B8AB3CD-FF4BC580 machine 4

2026960B-53751DDD-0B8AB3CD-FFDDF748 water gurgle

2026960B-F5732187-0B8AB3CD-FF4FF045 jet

2026960B-42A7FD9F-0B8AB3CD-FFF6A592 quiet car engine

2026960B-62B6A707-0B8AB3CD-FF3592EC car 1

2026960B-78C55345-0B8AB3CD-FF205208 car fade off

2026960B-DAFBA3F9-0B8AB3CD-FFEA9191 jet fade off

2026960B-82F59CEF-0B8AB3CD-FF184230 light trafic

2026960B-BE0D9651-0B8AB3CD-FF62BECD shower or rain

2026960B-8FB6BA36-0B8AB3CD-FF14DBC6 light Traffic

2026960B-D4473A8C-0B8AB3CD-FF240C5E car 2

2026960B-D231F6E9-0B8AB3CD-FFF5F774 car 3

2026960B-A49FFBC2-0B8AB3CD-FF434DCC another car

2026960B-0164A643-0B8AB3CD-FF74F7C7 noise or shower

2026960B-193EDDA2-0B8AB3CD-FF010DB5 car 4

2026960B-8B2844F8-0B8AB3CD-FFE3B6EB car/ bus

2026960B-D7D2EA5F-0B8AB3CD-FF02932F cheap car or something

[lemondoddle]

what happens when you type into the computer (BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS)

HELLO THE WEBSITE HAS UPDATED and different things happen when you type things into the computer on the screen. if a character/word isnt relevant the computer gives a red X. so far i've found:

stanley: takes you to an ebay search for brass knuckles, entering his name repeatedly will take you to various grunkle-related eBay searches until you get to bill's wheel of shame with much more to click

mabel: adds stickers to the set. you can keep hitting enter until the the room has been "fully mabelized"

ford/sixer: a case file on ford's extra digits

soos: a long set of notes about how soos is doing running the mystery shack

dipper: a note presumably from bill to dipper "informing" him that he can decode messages by staring into the sun. if you enter his name multiple times bill urges you to keep looking with words of encouragement as each note becomes progressively blurry and splotched with black until the entire notecard turns black

bill: this youtube video (and no it's not a rickroll)

gideon: an audio recording plays of gideon humming/scatting to the tune of "we'll meet again", ending with a whispered message of "i love you, mabel"

wendy: a note pranking you with the the 👌 emoji

mcgucket/fiddleford: the cotton eye joe music video

pacifica: a warning note about the book of bill mabel made her write

robbie: chat messages between him and thompson as they prepare to summon bill (as mentioned in tbob) with an image of their encounter

tad strange: the computer plays clips of bread being sliced set to jazzy instrumentals. this enables the glowing red button on the computer to turn green to switch the bread videos on and off at will

blendin: a message appears on the screen reading "time agent lost and presumed incompetent"

weirdmagedon: a newspaper page from the gravity fall's gossiper utilising the "nevermind-all-that-" act and stating "nothing happened" that day

axolotl: text onscreen appears: "you ask alotl questions"

T.J. eckleburg: text onscreen appears: "never mention that name again"

cipher: links to a wikipedia page about triangles

blanchin: pulls up a youtube tutorial on how to blanche vegetables

triangle: one half of a parenthesis appears on the computer ")", will also pop up with "tri harder"

dippy fresh: links to this image

mystery shack: links to a google search for confusion hill

gravity falls: text appears onscreen reading "never heard of it"

portal: text appears onscreen reading "portal.exe has been deleted. i bet you could build one"

theraprism: a notice sign appears- "in case of (coded words) do not use elevators" with a graphic of a person and a cthulu like monster on stairs

blind eye: an eye chart utilising the same string of letters- "WKHBOOVHH" that gets smaller each line, paired with blocks of color- the cursor turns into a "zoom in" tool that actually just makes the page blurrier with each click

creepypasta/horror: an entry on the urban legend "the always garden"- a liminal space/backrooms style restaurant anomaly

alex hirsch: links to a google search for flannels

toby determined: links to a google search for restraining order

dorito/chip: a dorito slowly enlarges on the computer screen and then becomes a jumpscare of a toothy bill, who periodically screams for a bit before the video finishes

love/boyfriend/romance: pulls up the parody romance novel, clicking starts an audio recording of the book

death: text appears onscreen: "life's goth cousin"

book of bill: text appears onscreen: "hide it under shirt during pledge of allegiance"

life: text appears onscreen: "life: 72% complete. now loading: death"

baby/lalala: an ultrasound of a baby bill in a womb and a message congratulating you

pines: text appears onscreen: "a good family tree"

weird: a video of weird al yankovich appears on the screen, he's confused and shouts for bill to get him out of there

waddles: links to a pig adoption website

mickey/disney: text appears onscreen: "rat.gif censored for your protection"

ducktective: text appears onscreen reading "ducktective stars in 'love, quacktually', coming to 'oi, it's the cockney channel innit?' this fall"

mason: a note from dipper about ford teaching him anagrams, plus a coded message with that technique

tyrone/clone: a picture of the janky dipper clone with a message that he's yours now

matpat/game theory: a video of matpat and a conspiracy board, he turns to say "hello internet, you're on... you're own... good luck" as he holds the book of bill

skeleton: text appears onscreen: "the one with the sword! he found you!"

scary: pulls up a parody goosebumps book "spookemups", clicking on it starts an audio recording of neil cicierega reading a section

divorce: pulls up a logo for "o'sadley's'"

music: enables you to click the dial, clicking the dial plays loud static

math: bill recounting an encounter he had with plato

conspiracy: a video of charlie day in a tin foil hat rambling about the website's previous state, holding the book of bill

okay that's enough from me, there's SO MUCH MORE that I just can't keep up with!! Happy searching!

[sillyjpeg]

BOOK OF BILL WEBSITE CHANGE

this contains MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE WEBSITE CHANGE. if you want to find shit urself, dont read this!!!

also this is part one of probably many bc i cant fit everything in here. curse you image limit

i wont be going over alot of the not as important stuff, but still go explore the website for it because i got alot of good laughs!

RIGHT OFF THE BAT. In the top right corner of the screen when the lightning flashes, there are words revealed carved in the wall. it reads: VALLIS CINERIS. when this is typed into the computer it gives this video:

haunting. really giving me analog horror vibes. wasnt sure what else to do with this though.

I also noticed that on the candle in the right side of the desk, there is a code

this is decoded used the rune code, and translates into CURSED. when put into the computer, this is what is given back:

interesting.

One of the first things me and my friends did was go through the main characters names. the most interesting one of these for me is definitely Stanley, but i want to go over Pacifica first because Stanleys is LONG.

When you type in Pacifica you get this:

I love her signature btw. BUT if you type in Platinum Paz, you get somethin very, very interesting.

This may not be in the right order so forgive me, but at the end of that code, if you use a shift decoder (im so smart sue me)

it says: "STAY AWAY FROM HER CIPHER. SHE HAS THE PROTECTION OF THE LUMBERFOLKS SPIRITS"

pacificas character development has always been special to me, and this was honestly chilling. in the book of bill we see that she has nightmares about the lumberjack, and this shows how much guilt she carries. her finally finding her peace with what happened made me smile :)

but as nice and heartwarming as this is, were moving on to STANLEY PINES! and oh BOY are the stanley lovers having a field day. so first of all, if you type in Stanley, it will take you to a few different links. including gold chains, brass knuckles, an 8 ball cane, a fez, and a colonel neck tie. funny right? if you keep entering his name, this pops up:

Below this is a bunch of things with the label of being shameful. one of them is very interesting but im gonna put some lighter stuff first for the sillies.

i need alex to show us the photos from the hunky drifters catalogue alex can you hear me please i mean WHO SAID THATTTT WHO SAID THATTTTTT

ALSO NO ONE COMING TO HIS FAKE FUNERAL EXCEPT HIS MOM :( she loved her little free spirit stanley

ALSO- him stripping for flour in Tijuana, again, i need photographic evidence.

his ex wives list also made me giggle. he was MARRIED TO OLD GOLDIE????? also Marilyn being Eda made me giggle, i love the fact that they got married at some point. get them back together please. also stan having smaller hands than ford and being self-conscious about it stan i love you mwah mwah mwah

ALSO FILBRICK TRYING TO SELL STAN FOR GETTIN AN F- PLEASE

anyways now onto the section at the bottom of the Wheel of Shame page!

Its titled : HOW HE BEAT ME. im not adding a photo bc ur guy is running out of room :(

you have to click on this repeatedly to get anything good out of it, so i took the liberty of milking it for all it had!!! i didnt take screenshots of everything because some of it was redundant, but here are the interesting and or funny bits:

just reiterating, this is not all thats in there, im just putting parts that stood out to me. please take the time to go through all this urself bc its a TREAT.

now into the crazier stuff

hes obviously having some sort of breakdown, just like we see at the end of the book of bill. the last page i decoded myself, and i got this using all the different decoders:

"THROUGH LQS SFSE CN EVERYONE IVE EVER"

for "LQS SFSE CN" i used the original bill cipher code, and im not sure why it gave me this. a smarter, better decoder probably has the answer.

i can theorize a few different things on what this could possibly mean even with it not being all decoded. the one that comes to mind is "I can still see through everyone ive ever met" maybe knowing too much? but without the middle part decoded i cant say much. if you have the solution for this please leave a comment as any help would be greatly appreciated. this all did drop a few hours ago so i doubt many people are working on decoding all this.

UPDATE!! I TRANSLATED IT WRONG.

IT SAYS “THROUGH THE EYES OF EVERYONE IVE EVER”

this makes alot more sense. bill can see through others eyes so it most likely is refering too how he possesses people and sees through their eyes. In the book of bill he shows how angry he is having to watch the Pines family be happy.

It says that when he closes his eye, he can still see through the eyes of everyone hes ever…possesed? probably. So can Bill still see through Ford, or maybe Dipper, and he cant turn it off. Whenever he closes his eyes he is haunted by the happy life he failed to destroy. To see through their eyes.

This poem using gambling as a way to describe Stan's life choices really struck me. the more i thought on it the more it made sense. he gambled that Ford's project would probably still work, gambled with all of his sham products. His entire life has been a betting game. The most interesting thing about all this is the end of the poem. It reads

"IM STILL ON YOUR MIND"

this has been a theory for awhile in the gravity falls community that if stan got back all his memories, including ones about bill, wouldnt bill come back? for me this confirms the theory, and opens up a whole new can of worms which i will talk about later.

I have reached my image and video limit, but expect more posts!

stay weird yall :)

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

i love you, i’m sorry

── hockey player!rafe x fem!singer!reader

ONE | TWO

click *HERE* for the description +table of contents

january 1 ~

liked by taylorswift and others…

yn.sings new year new me! jehdjssjfjajd jk anyways might release a song tomorrow idk tho

sarah.cam just did the presave link from your stories 😙 miss you so much!

↳ yn.sings ugh my baby i miss you!! thank you 💕

johnb let’s goooooo 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 and to think i’ve known you since you were asking for help putting your songs on cd’s so you could send them to record labels 😭

↳ yn.sings stop i will cry right now!!!!

jjmaybank that’s my girl! heard the song yesterday, fucking incredible. proud of you ❤️

↳ yn.sings thank you j ❤️❤️

↳ heywardpope wait why did HE get to hear the song 🤨

↳ jjmaybank what’s with the HE?

↳ kiecarrera yeah why did HE 🤨🤨🤨

↳ jjmaybank i have a simple answer, its obviously because she loves me more than both of you 🤷🏼‍♂️

↳ yn.sings stfu j you’re gonna get me in trouble jdenzjssndjdjs but really guys it’s because he asked me to send him whatever i’m releasing next. i don’t ever wanna just shove my music in your faces so i only send stuff if you ask

↳ jjmaybank no, it’s definitely what i said.

↳ sarah.cam baby idc, i want your music to punch me in the heart every single time.

↳ johnb same here tbh.

↳ yn.sings hehehe okay i’ll send it to you guys now!

user1 who are all of those people she’s replying to and why am i not one 😭😭😭

↳ yn.hq friends from back home. if you watch her stories, they always post when they’re together. well yn.sings does. her friends are all private accounts so idk about them. and before you ask, no her and jjmaybank are not dating. they’ve been best friends since they were 8.

↳ user1 ahh, gotcha. thanks!

↳ yn.sings oh god you’ve summoned him

↳ jjmaybank yeah we’re not dating because she rejected me ✊🏻😔

↳ yn.sings jackson im gonna kill you shdhdksndj

↳ jjmaybank first name and a threat, kinky 😛

↳ jjmaybank wait fuck i got the notification put me back on close friends hahdbdhd

itsmekelce snippet you sent sounds good! 🎧

↳ yn.sings thank you kelc!

↳ kiecarrera umm 🤨

taylorswift such a good song! you should probably, idk, perform it for like a lot of people 🤭

↳ yn.sings the fact that you know who i am is still insane even 2+ years later. thank you!! also, you’re right i totally should 🤭🤭🤭

↳ user2 wait!!!! what the fuck does this mean can a swiftie decode this secret message thanks

↳ user3 taylor’s rumored to be going on tour, but we don’t know when. maybe yn.sings is the opening act?

↳ user4 would taylor use her? she’s kind of already a big artist.

↳ user3 true but opening for taylor especially if it’s for the whole tour, would for sure be a huge step in her career.

↳ user5 i will kick a child out of the way to see that concert.

topperthornton heard you’ll be back in the obx soon

TAG LIST ── 5 of 50 spots taken!

@kissylec | @empath-bunny | @pillowprincess4him | @fieryghxul | @imtalkinnonsense

[thepinkpanther83]

And They Were Roommates (Pt.21)

Chapter Twenty One: “For Keeps”

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Find me on AO3.

Read this story on AO3.

Previous Chapter: Chapter Twenty: “A Feast for the Dysfunctional” Next Chapter: Chapter Twenty Two: “Title TBD” (Link Coming Soon)

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

Chapter Twenty One: “For Keeps”

It had been weeks since the pregnancy test.

Weeks of pacing the halls of your own brain, wearing grooves into the wood floors of your patience, trying to decide when or even if, to tell him.

Because the timing was never right. Not when Eddie was sprinting around like a man on a mission, muttering about errands and setlists and “a guy Jeff knows with a soundboard the size of an RV.” Not when he kept showing up late from band practice with sawdust on his jeans and paint under his nails and a mystery glint in his eye like he was trying to build a future with his bare hands and no blueprints.

Every time you worked up the nerve to say it… I’m pregnant, just two words, really, he’d derail the moment with something stupidly sweet.

Like holding up a paint swatch and saying, “Babe, which one says ‘hopeful but rebellious’ to you? This one’s called Stormy Cobblestone and I think it speaks to me.”

Or handing you a flyer for a Corroded Coffin show with your name scrawled in marker hearts in the corner and a post-it note that read: “DO NOT EAT THIS. NOT A SNACK. YOU ALREADY TRIED THAT ONCE.” Which was categorically untrue.

The longer you waited, the heavier it sat. Your secret. This tiny, massive truth curling like a kitten in the pit of your stomach.

Meanwhile, Eddie… Eddie was being weird.

Not bad weird. Just… Eddie dialed to eleven weird.

He disappeared for hours at a time with excuses so flimsy you could read a newspaper through them.

“Wayne needed help moving stuff,” he said one night, tracking glitter across the carpet like it was a normal byproduct of lifting boxes.

Another time: “Had to meet a guy about a…uh…metal thing. Real urgent. Very heavy metal.”

You found a Christmas wreath taped to the closet door with duct tape. A “Winter Vibes” candle in the bathroom that smelled like cinnamon and panic.

And it wasn’t just the stuff. It was him.

Touchier. Gentler. Quieter sometimes.

He’d come home late, see you curled up on the couch, and just stand there, like he was memorizing the shape of you against the throw pillows. Sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the night and find him in the kitchen, writing something in his notebook with that intense furrowed look like he was decoding the meaning of life between coffee rings.

And the worst part…

He was so happy.

Bubbly, distracted, brimming with the kind of joy that made your chest ache. Because what if this… this whirlwind, this rise, this shining new chapter with his band, was everything he’d waited for his whole life?

What if your news wasn’t a blessing, but a wrecking ball?

So you stayed quiet.

And the secret stayed loud.

Again, you’d tried to tell him.

Twice.

The first time, he’d come home late, suspiciously glitter-covered again, tracking snow and excuses behind him, clutching a paper bag with something clinking inside. He’d kissed you stupid before you could get a single word out, declared “Emergency cocoa mission!” and launched into a chaotic retelling of some band drama involving Gareth, a fumbled stage dive, and a very mad Santa impersonator.

The second time, you’d been sitting on the couch, heart in your throat, trying to figure out how to gently say Hey, I’m pregnant, surprise, when Eddie walked out of the bathroom with two candles and a new towel rack and proudly declared, “Babe, I am curating ambiance.”

It wasn’t that he was ignoring you. If anything, he was more attentive lately. He made you breakfast three days in a row without burning down the apartment. He kept lighting candles like the house was possessed by a Bath & Body Works spirit. He’d rearranged the couch pillows in a spiral and called it “aesthetic seating,” then nearly cried over a commercial where a man buys his wife a puppy for Christmas.

Eddie Munson was not himself.

Correction: He was entirely himself, just dialed up to eleven and smudged with a different kind of nervous energy.

He didn’t notice your long silences. Your distracted fidgeting. The way your eyes lingered on his hands when he played with his rings or how you couldn’t quite laugh fully when he made a dad joke about the fridge being haunted by “leftover demons.”

Because you couldn’t shake the thought that this… this house, this life, this man with his crooked smile and record collection of dreams, might not be big enough to hold one more bombshell.

The moment always passed before you could speak.

It was too big.

Too final.

Too… fragile.

So instead, you watched him.

Watched him spiral over whether or not to put the Christmas lights up “rock star style” or “emotionally repressed suburb dad style.”

Watched him panic over not being able to find the “good lighter” like his life depended on it.

Watched him kiss your cheek absentmindedly as he hid a folder labeled DO NOT OPEN under his arm and dashed out the door muttering something about Wayne’s truck and “Jeff being useless in all emotional matters.”

Whatever he was doing for Corroded Coffin, it was important.

He kept disappearing. Coming back with little things. Acting like he wasn’t acting weird.

And maybe you were imagining it. Maybe it was just holiday stress and Eddie’s brain chewing itself into tinsel.

But something was building.

And so was someone inside of you.

You found him in the living room, kneeling on the floor with a roll of scotch tape between his teeth and a Sharpie lid stuck behind one ear.

He was muttering to himself, rearranging a stack of flyers on the coffee table. Band posters, setlists, half-doodles of skulls with Santa hats, and one tragically misspelled note reading: Do Not 4get: Get Wrapping Paper, Dipshit.

At the top of the pile was a crooked page from a spiral notebook. At first glance it looked like a battle plan, or maybe a treasure map, but no, it was titled:

"Holiday Household Harmony Schedule (Beta Test)"

Complete with sparkly stickers, tiny hearts around your name, and a very aggressive reminder on Saturday that read: "NO FIGHTS DURING TREE DECORATING, I MEAN IT."

You hovered in the doorway, heart thudding, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

This is your window, your mind whispered. He’s calm. He’s here. Tell him now.

You took a step forward. “Hey, babe?”

Eddie looked up with the sunniest smile you’d ever seen, full wattage, no filter. “Hey you,” he said, sticking the Sharpie behind his ear like he thought it made him look professional. “Are we or are we not the most terrifyingly domestic rockstars in the Midwest?”

You opened your mouth. The words danced on the tip of your tongue. I’m pregnant.

But all that came out was: “I think you got marker on your face.”

He blinked, reached up, smeared the side of his cheek even worse. “Dope.”

You smiled, but it felt shaky. You tried again. “Actually, I wanted to-”

BANG.

The front door crashed open so hard the wreath fell off its hook.

“GUYS,” Gareth yelled, stumbling in like he’d run the whole way there. “Dustin has locked himself in the back of the van with a roll of wrapping paper and says he’s ‘preparing for battle.’ What do we do?!”

“Tell him this is why I said we needed team therapy!” came Jeff’s voice, muffled behind him.

Eddie popped up like a meerkat. “I’m sorry… what now?”

You deflated. The moment was gone. Again.

He kissed your cheek quickly before darting toward the door. “Don’t move. I’ll only be five minutes. Ten tops if he starts quoting The Fellowship of the Ring again.”

And just like that, he was gone in a flurry of socks and winter air.

You stood in the middle of the room, alone.

One hand drifted to your stomach. Still small. Still quiet. Still only yours. For now.

You didn’t mean to cry.

It wasn’t even a big thing. Not a fight, not a crisis. Just a mug.

You were in the kitchen, alone again, staring at the chipped coffee mug Eddie always used. The one that said #1 Dungeon Master in barely-legible Sharpie, faded from too many trips through the dishwasher.

It slipped out of your hand. Hit the counter. Cracked right down the middle.

And something in you cracked, too.

You sank to the floor, mug in pieces, breathing like someone had sat on your chest. You pressed your hands to your stomach, your vision going blurry. You didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt the tears cooling your cheeks.

You heard Eddie’s footsteps before you saw him.

“Babe?” His voice was soft at first. “Hey, what’s-”

He stopped when he saw you. On the floor. Crying. Surrounded by ceramic shards and the echo of something much, much heavier.

He dropped to his knees. “Sweetheart, what happened? Did I- did I do something? Are you hurt? Did someone call? Did… what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, tried to speak, failed. The words clawed up your throat like they’d been waiting all along.

“Eddie… I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed felt like falling through a trapdoor.

Eddie just stared at you. Eyes wide. Mouth parted. Frozen in place like the moment itself didn’t know what to do with him yet.

You tried to swallow it back, but it was too late. Everything poured out.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t… I didn’t plan this, Eddie, I swear, I’m not asking for anything, I’m not trying to trap you, I just… you’ve got so much happening right now. The band’s taking off, and everything’s finally going right for you and I didn’t want to be the reason it changed or got harder or-”

Your voice cracked. You looked down at the floor, at the mug shards scattered like a broken constellation.

“...I just needed you to know.”

Eddie just stared.

No words. No breath. Just him, slightly crouched, heart in his eyes, like you’d knocked the air right out of his lungs.

But then-

A smile. Slow at first, then impossibly wide, overtaking his whole face like a sunrise made of chaos and eyeliner. His eyes went glassy, but he didn’t blink.

“You’re… holy shit. You’re serious?” he whispered, like it was too big to say louder. “You’re pregnant?”

You nodded slowly, still unsure, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And that’s when Eddie Munson, metalhead menace of Hawkins, dropped to his knees.

Like a freaking knight in a leather jacket.

He took your hands like they were holy. His voice wobbled with every word:

“I swear on Dio’s grave,” he breathed, “I will never… never, be the man my dad was. I’m not goin’ anywhere. You hear me? Not now. Not ever. This kid’s gonna know what it means to be loved properly.”

Then, because he’s Eddie, he shuffled forward on his knees and kissed your belly through your shirt. Gentle. Devoted. Reverent.

“Hey, mini-Munson,” he murmured, lips still pressed to your stomach. “It’s me. Your dad. I’m a little loud, and your mom is way too good for me, but I swear to all the gods of metal, I’m gonna figure this out. I’ll learn how to do diaper stuff. I’ll feed you healthy things, and carry you around like a gremlin prince and teach you power chords and the difference between good and trash horror movies.”

You stared at him, stunned. Tears still on your cheeks. “You’re… not mad?”

He blinked up at you like the question was absurd. “Mad? Babe, I’ve already got a nursery theme in mind.”

“…What?”

He beamed. “Guess what it is.”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s Dungeons and Dragons. Surprise.”

You laughed, a little choked, a little wild, as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his ear to your stomach like he was already trying to hear the baby whisper back.

“Little Shredder,” he whispered. “We’re gonna be a family. You, me, and Mom up there who’s still gonna be hotter than sin even after stretch marks and baby puke. Right, sweetheart?”

You could barely breathe through your smile. “Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

You cupped his face, thumbing away the tear he hadn’t noticed was there.

“I love you so much.”

He grinned, watery-eyed and stupid-happy. “Good. ‘Cause we’re keeping it. All of it. The kid. The chaos. The family band. We’re doin’ this, baby.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Eddie stood, lifting you with him before pacing like a man with way too many thoughts in a head that only ever operated at full volume.

Then he stopped. Looked at you. Rubbed the back of his neck like his skin didn’t quite fit right.

“Okay,” he said, voice cracking just a bit. “Okay. Now I gotta… gotta ask you something.”

Your brows furrowed, heart still racing from the news you’d just dropped, and everything about him was twitchy: the way his fingers curled and uncurled, the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot like he was about to go on stage or into battle.

He reached into his back pocket, cursed, tried the other side, cursed louder, then crouched to dig through the lining of his jacket, muttering, “Come on, where are you, you little shit… aha!”

When he stood again, his face was flushed. His eyes were bright and terrified in that specific Eddie Munson kind of way, equal parts chaos and soul.

He dropped down to one knee for the second time that night.

And this time, he held out a ring.

Not flashy. Not massive. But perfectly, beautifully Eddie. Gold. A little gothic. Probably bought in the back room of some tiny pawn shop between sets or something. But so clearly chosen with love it nearly knocked the wind out of you.

Your mouth fell open. “Eddie…”

He smiled up at you, breath shaky, fingers trembling. “I’ve been carrying this thing around for a month and a half, babe. Waiting. Planning. Failing at planning, honestly, ‘cause I kept changing the details. But this… this was always gonna happen. This isn’t about the baby.”

Your heart was slamming in your chest now. “Wait… Eddie- wait, no, you don’t have to do this. Just because I’m pregnant-”

“No!” His voice rose sharp and startled, like you’d hit him. “No, no, no, sweetheart, this isn’t about that. I mean, it is now, kind of, in a cool bonus way- but I’ve been ready. This was happening no matter what.”

You tried to process. Tried to find a steady place to stand inside this moment that had already turned into a whirlwind.

“You’re sure?” you whispered.

He nodded so hard his hair bounced. “Swear on every mixtape I’ve ever made you. This was always the plan.”

He must’ve seen the hesitation still swimming in your eyes, because Eddie let out a breath and dug into his pocket again, this time pulling out a crumpled, half-torn receipt like it was a relic from the holy vaults of Valhalla.

“Okay, okay… look.” He unfolded it with all the grace of a raccoon rifling through a dumpster, holding it up in your face. “November third. Kay’s Jewelry. Kay’s, babe. That’s how serious I was. I let a woman in a blazer talk me into a payment plan.”

You blinked.

“I canceled two movie nights with the guys. Didn’t go to that Halloween cover gig at The Hideout. Skipped bowling. You know how much I love bowling. All so I could stash away enough for this thing.” He gestured wildly at the ring. “And still have enough left over to buy you a drinks and a burrito after I proposed.”

A laugh slipped from your mouth, wet and shaky.

“I was gonna propose to you tonight,” he said, cheeks flushed now, eyes practically glowing. “Had this whole thing planned. Candles, music, glitter bombs, doves… I don’t even know where I was gonna get doves. Wayne was on standby with his ancient camcorder, ready to film the whole thing like it was a goddamn Hallmark movie.”

You blinked again.

“I had glitter. In my pockets. Do you know how long glitter lives in a pair of jeans?”

The ring sat between you both, golden and strange and so, so him. Like it had waited its whole life to be exactly here in this moment.

“I love you,” Eddie said, voice softer now. “More than all my dumb ideas. More than Dio. And that’s saying something.”

You opened your mouth, but he held up a finger, grinning nervously. “One more thing to get off my chest.”

He leaned forward, kissed your knuckles, then looked up at you, no theatrics this time, just honest, unshakable truth.

“You really think I’d wait till you were carrying a whole baby to decide I wanted to keep you forever?”

You stared at him, at the gold ring glittering softly in his calloused fingers, at his flushed cheeks and wild, hopeful eyes, like a man who had just sprinted through a storm to stand still in front of you.

And then it hit you all at once.

Not just the baby. Not just the ring.

Him.

The man who wanted to build a life with you before he knew it was already growing. The man who sacrificed bowling nights and burritos and probably some truly unhinged glitter-splosion plan just to get this moment right. The man who had somehow become your best friend, your home, your heart.

Tears stung your eyes, hot and immediate.

“Jesus, Eddie…” you whispered, voice cracking.

His smile faltered. “Too much? Should I have saved the glitter speech for later?”

You laughed, a helpless, watery sound, and nodded, slowly at first, then all at once, the way a dam finally breaks.

“Yes,” you said, breath hitching. “Of course, yes.”

Then you launched at him.

There was no delicate movie kiss. No choreographed dip or sweeping orchestral music. Just two people crashing into each other like magnets, clumsy and crying and a little snotty from emotion overload.

“I’ll marry you,” you whispered into his neck, clinging to his shirt like it might float away.

“Yeah,” he sniffed, hugging you tighter. “I figured that was the vibe.”

He tried to slide the ring onto your finger and absolutely chose the wrong hand.

“That’s my right hand, genius.”

“Oh! Shit. Okay, hold on, wait, do over.”

You guided him, and he got it right on the second try, grinning like he’d just summoned Excalibur.

There was a distant meow from outside. Probably the neighbor’s cat. Probably crying at the beautiful moment. Eddie wouldn't blame it.

He held your face in his hands, like it was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. “You just made me the happiest man on earth.”

“You’re gonna be someone’s dad,” you whispered, stunned all over again.

He beamed. “And someone’s husband. Which means I get to annoy you forever, and you’re not allowed to leave.”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him again, already thinking about how you’d absolutely never want to.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes shining with something wild and tender all at once. "Okay, okay, wait... hold on, I gotta do this right."

He scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over his own boots in the process, then dramatically cleared his throat like he was about to deliver the most important speech of his life.

Which, knowing Eddie, he probably was.

"S-Sweetheart," he began, voice cracking on the first syllable. He winced, shook his head, and tried again. "Sweetheart."

You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

"By the power vested in me by absolutely no one," he continued, gesturing grandly, "I hereby declare that you are now legally... no, spiritually bound to me for all eternity. Or until the heat death of the universe. Whichever comes first."

You snorted. "That's not how marriage works."

"Our marriage does." He grinned, crooked and bright. "Also, I reserve the right to serenade you at inappropriate times."

"You already do that."

"Yeah, but now you'll be legally obligated to find it romantic."

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was so full it ached.

Eddie's expression softened then, his fingers tracing the ring on your hand like he couldn't believe it was real. "We're really doing this, baby?"

You nodded, pressing your forehead to his. "Yeah. We are."

And just like that, the future stretched out before you, messy, chaotic, and entirely yours. Together.

The ring on your finger was still new, still strange and gleaming, like something out of a dream you weren’t quite ready to wake up from.

Eddie’s fingers hadn’t stopped touching it. Or you.

He paced the inside of Wayne’s trailer like he’d downed a dozen pixie sticks and a bottle of cherry cola, which, knowing him, wasn’t entirely off the table. “Okay,” he said, clapping his hands together, “we have to tell Wayne. Like now. Before I explode and ruin it by blurting it out in the middle of dinner or a Slayer song or-”

“Babe,” you said, grabbing his arm. “Let’s go.”

Wayne was out on the porch again, fiddling with his radio like it owed him money. He didn’t look surprised to see the two of you emerge again, hand in hand, Eddie practically vibrating.

Didn’t even glance up as he said, “That thing better be a cassette or I’m not helpin’ you wire it again.”

Eddie snorted. “Better. We’ve got news.”

That earned you a glance. Wayne gave you a squint, then looked at Eddie, then back to you. “News?”

You nodded, heart thudding, and held up your hand.

There was a long moment of silence.

Wayne squinted harder. “That what I think it is?”

“Depends,” Eddie said, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “If you think it’s an engagement ring and not a candy prize from a Cracker Jack box, then yeah.”

Wayne stared for another moment.

Then he gave one, small, satisfied grunt. “’Bout damn time.”

You blinked. “That’s… it?”

“Hell, I’ve known he was gonna propose for weeks,” Wayne said, waving it off. “Knew it when he started hiding his tip money in the coffee filter tin at my place. Thought I was gonna find Folgers and stumbled on a receipt for a ring instead.”

You laughed, stunned. “You serious?”

“Dead,” he replied. Then nodded toward you. “And I also knew you were pregnant.”

Eddie choked. “You what?”

Wayne just shrugged. “She’d been queasy for weeks. You got sick, then she got sick. You stopped, she didn’t. And I’ve lived long enough to know what kind of sick hangs around like that.”

You covered your face with both hands. “Oh my god, it’s like everyone knew before me.”

“That’s why I gave her the bag,” he added, like he was confirming a package delivery. “Wasn’t medicine. Figured she’d wanna know for sure before you both started making crazy decisions.”

Eddie turned to you with his mouth open in betrayal. “You told him before me?”

“I didn’t! He just… Wayne-d it on his own.”

Wayne finally stood, walked over to you, and pulled you into the kind of hug that only existed in Munson family lore, one-armed, a little stiff, but warm all the same. He patted your shoulder once, rough and gentle all at once.

“You’ll be good at this,” he muttered. “Both of you.”

Eddie blinked furiously like he was trying not to cry.

Wayne grumbled, “And if you name that kid something dumb like Dio or Lasagna, I will intervene.”

“Big talk from a guy who named a turkey ‘Sal,’” Eddie murmured snidely.

“Big Sal was distinguished,” Wayne shot back.

Eddie let out a wet laugh, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Yeah, yeah, okay, old man. But I will be naming my kid after at least one metal legend."  

Wayne sighed, long-suffering. "Lord help me."  

You grinned, leaning into Eddie's side, feeling the warmth of him seep into your bones. "We'll compromise. Maybe something classic, but not too wild."  

Eddie gasped in mock horror. "Compromise? Sweetheart, this is my child we're talking about. They're gonna have a name that makes people fear them."  

Wayne rolled his eyes and turned back to his radio, muttering, "Kid's gonna be born wearing armor and a pacifier shaped like a battle axe."  

Eddie beamed. "Now that's a nursery theme."  

You groaned, but you couldn't stop smiling.  

Because this was it.  

This was your life now, chaotic, ridiculous, and so full of love it made your chest ache.  

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The sound of a car pulling up was your only warning.

Then came the unmistakable stomp of multiple pairs of boots, the slamming of doors, and Gareth’s voice echoing from outside: “I brought chips and an attitude!”

The knock on the door came just as Eddie was still straightening up a pile of junk mail like it would somehow make the place more “announcement ready.”

You gave him a look.

“What?” he said, eyes wide. “This is historic, babe. I want it to look nice.”

“You shoved a pizza coupon under the couch.”

“And that’s restraint,” he countered. “I almost vacuumed.”

You barely had time to open the door before the chaos flooded in like a wave of overly caffeinated teenagers and questionable fashion choices, a small crowd of mismatched flannel and leather, most of The Hellfire Club.

Gareth was grinning before he even crossed the threshold. “So? She say yes or what?”

Jeff gave you a lazy thumbs up. “Told you she’d say yes, man. You had the ring and the hair going for you.”

Grant waltzed in behind them with a six-pack and a devilish smirk. “I assume this is the ‘she said yes’ afterparty and not the ‘she threw the ring in my face’ debrief?”

“She said yes,” Eddie confirmed, flashing your hand for you like a proud raccoon who found treasure in a dumpster. “And nobody threw anything. Yet.”

There was a round of hollers and claps on the back. Gareth threw both fists in the air like Eddie had just won prom king and battle of the bands in one night.

“Hell yeah, dude! I had the glitter cannon in the car and everything!”

“Please tell me you left it in the car,” Wayne called from the kitchen.

“No promises.”

Gareth, flannel tied around his waist and a suspiciously bulging duffel bag slung over one shoulder. “Okay,” he said, dropping it dramatically by the door, “tell me everything, and also, bachelor party. I already have three venues in mind. One has a mechanical bull, the other has a dunk tank, and the third is just Jeff’s uncle’s backyard but there’s definitely fireworks.”

“I’m not letting you near explosives,” Eddie muttered.

“Too late,” Gareth grinned.

Eddie laughed, tugging you close. “Alright, alright, celebration’s cool and all, but there’s more. Sit your asses down, I got another announcement.”

Everyone blinked at once, and like trained goblins, they immediately plopped down wherever they could, couch, floor, folding chair, one particularly daring soul- Grant, perched on the arm of the recliner like a cat who doesn’t pay rent.

Eddie ran a hand through his hair. You could tell he was trying to play it cool, but the bounce in his step and the way he kept fidgeting with your fingers gave him away.

“So…” he started, then faltered. “You all know I’ve been kind of… freakin’ out lately.”

“No more than usual,” Jeff offered.

“But like,” Eddie waved a hand. “Happy freakin’ out. Big life freakin’ out. Like 'I bought a blender and started comparing curtain colors' freakin’ out.”

“That is new,” Gareth whispered.

Eddie looked over at you, and you gave him a little nod. “Go on, baby.”

He turned back to his boys and beamed, full force. “I’m gonna be a dad.”

The silence hit like a cymbal crash in a church.

Then-

Dustin shot to his feet. “I knew it!”

“You what?” Eddie asked, scandalized.

“I knew she was pregnant!”

Grant groaned. “Dustin, you didn’t even know what an IUD was last month.”

“I said knew, not understood,” he said. “Her boobs got bigger. That’s how it always starts in the movies.” he announced proudly.

Jeff snorted soda through his nose. Grant choked on laughter. Gareth immediately began coughing something that suspiciously sounded like 'Dustin’s funeral is Tuesday.'

You blinked. “...Are you basing my pregnancy on Hollywood tit science?”

“Yes. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

Eddie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay. One, don’t talk about my girl’s boobs. Two, please never be right again. Ever.”

Dustin grinned like he’d won a Nobel Prize. “I’m gonna be the godfather.”

“You are not,” Eddie and Gareth said in perfect unison.

“That would be me, I’ve known Eddie longer!” Gareth said beaming.

You put your face in your hands.

Eddie pointed at Dustin like he was banishing him from the kingdom. “You are absolutely not the godfather.”

“I didn’t ask to be the godfather,” Dustin muttered, crossing his arms. “I just assumed.”

Eddie glanced over at Wayne, who was pretending to be very focused on scraping the label off his beer bottle. That gruff act might’ve worked on everyone else, but Eddie had known him too long to miss the way his mouth twitched at the corners like he was trying not to smile.

“Hey, uh…” Eddie started, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly shy in a way he never was around this crowd. “So, we haven’t really figured out all the baby stuff yet, names, cribs, diaper logistics, but…”

He stepped forward, catching Wayne’s eye. “We do know who we want to be the godfather.”

Wayne paused. Blinked. Looked up slow like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

Eddie grinned. “It’s you. If you want it.”

There was a long moment of silence. Then Wayne cleared his throat like something got caught in it, and mumbled, “’Course I want it.”

His voice was hoarse, eyes glassy but firm, like maybe the weight of what Eddie had just said hit him harder than he’d expected. Then he straightened his shoulders, all business again.

“I’ll teach the kid how to fish,” he added. “How to change a tire. Maybe how to spot a liar from a mile off.”

Eddie smirked. “And I’ll teach ‘em how to shred ‘Master of Puppets’ by age five. We’ll cover all the essentials.”

Wayne finally let that proud little smile slip loose. “Damn right we will.”

Gareth reached out and clapped Eddie on the back so hard he nearly knocked him over. “A baby and a wedding? Shit, I’m gonna have to upgrade my bestman speech.”

“Already got a sitter lined up,” Jeff said casually, sipping his soda. “I mean, for the kid, not for you. Though, if the shoes fit…”

Grant leaned forward. “Wait, wait,” he said, holding up both hands. “Okay but real talk, can dudes come to baby showers? Like… is that legal? And if so, is there gonna be cake? Because that’s sort of the entire appeal for me.”

“Yes,” you said.

“No,” said Eddie, at the same time.

“Dibs on the cake,” Grant added.

Wayne rolled his eyes in the background and muttered, “Jesus Christ,” but he was smiling.

And in the middle of it all, Eddie looked at you with that crooked grin like you’d hung the stars yourself.

“Little Munson’s already got a village,” he said.

You reached for his hand. “The weirdest village, but yeah.”

The laughter had finally hit that mellow stage, half the guys slouched in chairs, someone fiddling with Wayne’s old radio, the buzz of soda fizz and contented sighs replacing the earlier chaos. Jeff had commandeered the recliner. Grant was halfway into the chip bowl like it owed him rent. Dustin had passed out with a dish towel on his head for reasons unknown.

Wayne rose from his seat with a groan and a stretch, cracking his neck like an old oak tree.

“Well,” he said, glancing around the living room like a man surveying the aftermath of a bar brawl, “since you’ve turned my trailer into a maternity ward and a bachelor party at the same damn time… what do you say we take this circus to Benny’s?”

Eddie perked up. “Wait, really?”

Wayne shrugged. “You got big news. Should be celebrated somewhere with fries and working napkin dispensers.”

“I’m in,” said Gareth, already grabbing his coat.

“You just want an excuse to eat a triple cheeseburger at ten o’clock at night,” Jeff said, standing anyway.

Grant added, “If this baby shower doesn’t come with curly fries, I want a refund.”

Wayne looked over at you and Eddie, voice softer this time. “You two deserve a good night. Let’s mark it.”

Eddie gave you a look, wide-eyed and giddy, like a kid who’d just been told he could have dessert and stay up past bedtime.

You looped your arm through his. “Benny’s it is.”

Outside, someone set off a rogue glitter popper. Dustin screamed. Confetti rained down.

Wayne sighed.

“Every damn time.”

But he was trying not to smile.

The neon glow of Benny’s Diner flickered like a beacon in the Hawkins night, casting a warm, greasy halo over the parking lot as the Munson family, newly expanded, newly engaged, and newly expecting, piled out of the van like a pack of overexcited hyenas.

Gareth was already halfway to the door, hands full of leftover confetti he’d scooped off the ground like a raccoon with a prize. “I’m getting the milkshake tower,” he announced.

“That’s not a thing,” Jeff said.

“It is now.”

Wayne trudged behind them, hands in his pockets, looking like a man who had long since accepted his fate as the reluctant ringleader of this circus. He held the door open for you and Eddie, nodding toward the booth in the corner, the one with the cracked vinyl and the wobbly table, the one that had seen more late-night Munson family meetings than the Hawkins PD interrogation room.

“Home sweet home,” Eddie muttered, sliding in beside you, his knee bouncing under the table.

The waitress, Marge, a woman who had served Eddie enough pancakes to feed a small army, took one look at the group and sighed. “You boys break anything, I’m telling Benny.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Marge,” Eddie said, grinning.

She squinted at him. “You’re lying.”

“Yeah, but I’m charming about it.”

Marge rolled her eyes and slapped down a stack of menus. “Special’s meatloaf. Don’t ask what’s in it.”

Grant leaned forward. “Is it meat?”

“Don’t ask.”

The table erupted into laughter, and for a moment, it was just like any other night, Eddie stealing fries off your plate when they got delivered, Gareth arguing with Jeff about whether ketchup belonged on a burger, it did not, according to Jeff, who was wrong, Wayne nursing a black coffee like it held the secrets of the universe.

But then Eddie’s hand found yours under the table, his thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles, and you remembered, oh yeah, everything’s different now.

He caught you looking and smirked. “What?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Nothing. Just... this is nice.”

His smirk softened into something warmer, something real, as he leaned in close enough for you to catch the faint scent of leather and shampoo. "Nice?" he echoed, voice low. "Sweetheart, this is perfect."

It was.

The clatter of plates, the hum of the jukebox playing some half-familiar rock ballad, the way Gareth was now attempting to balance a spoon on his nose while Jeff groaned in secondhand embarrassment, all of it, messy and loud and theirs.

Eddie squeezed your hand, his rings pressing into your skin like a promise. "Think the kid's gonna like Benny's?"

You laughed, resting your free hand over your stomach like you could already feel the tiny life inside you kicking along to the rhythm of the chaos. "If they're anything like you? They'll love it."

Eddie's grin could've powered Hawkins for a week.

Then-

A milkshake flew across the table, splattering Grant square in the chest.

Silence fell.

Gareth slowly lowered the now-empty glass, eyes wide. "...That was an accident."

Grant blinked. Looked down at his ruined shirt. Looked back up.

"War," he declared.

Wayne sighed, pushing his coffee aside like a man preparing for battle. "Lord give me strength."

Eddie just leaned back, pulling you with him as the first fry missile sailed past his ear. "And this," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple, "is why we're keeping them all."

You knew something was up the moment you walked into the apartment and nearly tripped over a pool noodle zip-tied to the coffee table.

Eddie popped up from behind the couch like a jack-in-the-box with a minor god complex. “Don’t touch anything, it’s all strategically placed.”

You stared at him. “Is there a reason all our furniture looks like it got attacked by a preschool safety consultant with a glue gun fetish?”

He beamed, hands on his hips. “Baby-proofing.”

“With pool noodles?”

He pointed emphatically to the neon green foam now duct-taped around the table edges. “They’re soft. And I already had 'em. That’s called resourceful parenting, sweetheart.”

You blinked. “I’m not even showing yet.”

“Exactly! Gotta get ahead of the curve. We’re setting a precedent for a prepared household.”

You opened your mouth to reply but paused as your gaze tracked over to the bookcase, which was now wedged at a forty-five degree angle in the corner, stuffed animals crammed between the shelves like weird sentries.

“…What happened there?”

“I moved it. Feng shui. For the baby.”

“For a fetus,” you clarified.

He gave you a very solemn nod. “The vibe matters, babe. Babies can sense energy.”

“And what energy are we cultivating, exactly?”

He looked around at the half-rotated recliner, the living room rug now folded under itself at one corner, the duct-taped drawer handles, and the random motivational poster that just said "POOP HAPPENS" in glitter letters stuck to the bathroom door.

“…Uh,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Kind of a chaotic good, thrift-store wizard aesthetic?”

You snorted and nearly tripped over a rolled-up towel Eddie had apparently stuffed under the entertainment center “in case of baby-level floor drafts.”

But honestly?

You wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Because the look on his face, half-panicked, half-proud, all heart, was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

He caught you smiling and immediately pointed at you like he'd just won an argument. "See? You like it. Admit it. My baby-proofing skills are impeccable."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the grin. "Impeccably deranged, maybe."

Eddie gasped, clutching his chest like you'd wounded him. "Wow. Wow. The mother of my child, ladies and gentlemen. Brutal."

Then he flopped dramatically onto the couch, or tried to, at least, before remembering the pool noodles and having to adjust his landing.

"Okay, so maybe I went a little overboard," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But in my defense, I got excited. And also, I may have watched, like, one too many videos on 'DIY Baby Safety Hacks.'"

You raised a brow. "How many is 'one too many'?"

He hesitated. "...Seventeen."

"Seventeen?!"

"In a row!" he added, as if that made it better.

You laughed, shaking your head as you stepped over a suspiciously placed yoga mat, another "safety measure," no doubt, and plopped down beside him.

Eddie immediately wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "Okay, okay, fine. Maybe I don't actually need to duct-tape the fridge shut yet. But can you blame me? I'm just-" He gestured wildly. "Preparing. Like a responsible future dad."

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "You're gonna be such a good dad."

Eddie went quiet for a second, then swallowed hard. "...Yeah?"

"Yeah," you murmured.

He squeezed you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Good. 'Cause I'm already way too invested in this whole thing."

You snorted. "I noticed."

Eddie grinned against your hair. "Just wait 'til I start on the nursery."

You groaned. "God help me."

But honestly, you couldn't wait.

A few hours later, y​ou found him standing in front of the fridge like it was a sacred altar.

Glitter sparkled in his curls.

“Okay,” he said, without turning around. “Don’t freak out, but I may have used all your star stickers.”

You approached with the cautious energy of someone who’d already been betrayed once by a man wielding duct tape. “Why?”

He stepped aside with a flourish, revealing The Munson Family Christmas Countdown™ a hand-drawn calendar now covering half the fridge. Each square had some sort of event scribbled inside it, ranging from “Put up tree (finally)” to “Steal mistletoe from Jeff’s porch,” to “Wrap a few fake gifts for under tree: DO NOT use toaster box again!”

There were stickers. There were doodles. There were very detailed reindeer who all looked suspiciously like Eddie but with antlers.

You blinked. “What… exactly am I looking at?”

“It’s festive and practical,” he said proudly, waving a glitter-covered sharpie like a wand. “I’ve combined holiday cheer with rigorous planning. We’re now functioning like a real household, babe.”

You opened the fridge, revealing that the freezer now had a sticky note labeled “Christmas cookies: DO NOT EAT (until I get a photo for the memory book).”

“…What memory book?”

He waved you off. “Work in progress.”

You closed the fridge slowly, squinting at him. “How long did this take?”

“Four hours. Not counting glitter cleanup. Which is eternal, by the way. That stuff’s basically herpes for crafting.”

You couldn’t even argue. He was right.

Then he turned to you with a spark in his eye and a crooked little grin, and said, “Also… I’m moving in.”

You blinked. “You… live here already.”

“Yeah, but like, officially moving in. Merging the Munson realms. Consolidating closet space. Making your room the main nest.”

Your brain processed that just in time to catch his next words:

“That way I can start converting my room into a nursery.”

You froze.

“Don’t worry,” he said quickly, misreading your expression. “I’ll still use it as a band practice zone slash studio slash gaming retreat until, like, February. Maybe March. But then? Baby haven.”

You raised your hands slowly. “Okay, hang on. You’re building a nursery already?”

He was already nodding. “Yeah! I cleared half my books out, moved the lava lamp-”

“The lava lamp-?”

“-and I taped this to the wall.” He held out a wrinkled page torn from a notebook. One side had baby names scrawled in permanent marker. One list was titled “Hell Yes” and included names like Zeppelin, Lestat, Ganon, and Ash (Like Evil Dead). The other list was labeled “Baby Mama Said No,” and included Thor, Meatball, and Babyface McGee.

Next to both lists…

A Corroded Coffin flyer.

Taped proudly to the wall with skull-shaped stickers.

“Balance,” he said, gesturing between the lists. “It’s all about balance.”

You looked at the fridge. Then the glitter. Then back at him.

He grinned, all teeth and wonder. “Welcome to Dad Mode, baby.”

And god help you… you loved it.

He watched your face, waiting for the verdict, his fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against his thigh. The silence stretched just a little too long, and his grin faltered. "Too much?"

You exhaled, shaking your head. "No. Just... so much."

Eddie's shoulders relaxed, and he stepped closer, his hands finding yours, his rings cool against your skin. "I know I'm going overboard," he admitted, voice softer now. "But I just- fuck, I wanna do this right, you know? I wanna be the guy who shows up, who builds the crib and reads the books and doesn't fuck it all up."

You squeezed his hands. "You are showing up, Eddie. You already are."

He swallowed hard, eyes flickering between yours like he was searching for proof. Then, slowly, he smirked. "So... does that mean I can keep the skull stickers in the nursery?"

You groaned, shoving at his chest. "No."

Eddie laughed, catching you around the waist and pulling you in. "Compromise," he murmured against your lips. "I'll put 'em on the inside of the closet door."

You rolled your eyes but kissed him anyway, tasting the sharpie and glitter and the stupid, overwhelming hope on his tongue.

The scent of slightly scorched bread and too-sweet chocolate hit you first, followed by the sight of Eddie standing over the stove with the focus of a man diffusing a bomb.

He was holding two mismatched mugs and glaring at the toaster like it had personally betrayed him.

“Cocoa,” he said, very seriously. “With exactly six marshmallows each. Any more and it’s overkill, any less and it’s just sadness in a mug.”

You peeked over his shoulder. “That toast’s a war crime.”

He winced. “Yeah. That’s for the raccoons now.”

You laughed, and he looked over at you with that dopey, lovesick little half-smile that made your stomach flip even before you were pregnant.

“Anyway,” he said, turning off the stove with a flourish. “Behold: comfort in a cup. Now with 30% more marshmallow love.”

He handed you a mug like it was made of gold. You sipped it.

Sweet. A little burnt. Very Eddie.

But it wasn’t until later, when you came back from changing into your pajamas, that you found him in his softest form.

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, surrounded by a small pile of baby things. A handful of tiny socks, striped and plain and one pair with a little bat on it. A onesie that said Born to Rock. A folded baby blanket that still had the store tag on it.

You hadn’t bought any of it.

He looked up when he heard you, cheeks going a little pink. “I, uh... found a coupon. And I went on a little spree.”

You didn’t say anything. Just walked over, knelt beside him, and picked up one of the socks between your fingers.

It was so small.

Your throat tightened.

Eddie scooted closer, slid his arms around your waist and tugged you into his lap like he couldn’t bear the distance for another second. You ended up half-sitting on him, cradled by flannel and denim and the pounding of his heart against your back.

His voice came quietly, just above a whisper.

“You’re my always, you know that?”

You nodded, eyes burning.

He kissed your temple, slow and reverent. “Not just cause of the engagement. Or the baby. Just… because. You’re it for me.”

Your fingers laced through his where they rested over your belly, anchoring you both.

In the middle of the glitter and chaos, the burnt toast and duct tape, you breathed in the moment and knew… he meant it.

Every messy, miraculous word.

The silence stretched between you, warm and heavy like the steam rising from your mugs. Eddie’s fingers traced idle patterns over your belly, his chin hooked over your shoulder as he stared at the tiny sock still pinched between your fingers.

“...I got the bat ones ‘cause they match my tattoo,” he admitted after a moment, voice sheepish.

You snorted, elbowing him lightly. “Shocking.”

He grinned against your neck, unrepentant. “What can I say? Branding’s important.”

You turned the sock over in your hands, marveling at how something so small could hold so much weight. Eddie’s arms tightened around you, his breath hitching just slightly when your fingers brushed over the little embroidered wings.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” you murmured.

Eddie went still for a second. Then, with a quiet certainty that made your chest ache, he said, “Yeah, sweetheart. We are.”

No jokes. No theatrics. Just Eddie, raw and real and so damn yours.

You leaned back into him, your head on his shoulder, letting the sock fall into the pile of baby clothes he’d bought, as his hands splayed over your stomach, his touch feather-light.

“Think they’ll like Metallica?” he asked after a moment, the smirk back in his voice.

You rolled your eyes. “They’ll have no choice.”

Eddie laughed, bright and unguarded, and pressed a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. “Damn right.”

Outside, the wind rattled the windows, the first real bite of winter creeping in. But here, tangled up in Eddie and possibility, you’d never felt warmer.

The future stretched ahead, messy, chaotic, perfect.

And you couldn’t wait.

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list! @justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55, @kelsiegrin, @ash-stardust, @meankenna, @kellsck, @chronicles-of-koystee, @micheledawn1975, @fckyeahlames, @cantstandya2000

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[wyrmarchives]

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Nuclear

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Triggers: Non-canon, cursing/strong language.

Context of Soulmate AU: link

Oh fuck.

Really it all happened so fast. Him running to the chaos, civilians away from it.

The blast was relatively small in comparison to what it should’ve been. The bomb destroyed one building, the same one used as a lab; a parking garage, abandoned at that, but, it was still enough to cause panic to surrounding locals and tourists. It’s been like this for months. Small bombs, terrorist projects popping up around the world.

The 141 has been spread thin chasing the “experiments” down, but it’s been hard. It’s not just one organization; it’s multiple groups. Simon’s never been particularly good at science, and the height of his math skills is calculating the trajectory for a well placed bullet; but even he could see the appeal behind the mad scientist who sold a hypothesis on the dark web which kickstarted this shite.

“Polarized electrons and nuclei? (Hypothetical) Evolution of The Human Race and Advancement of Nature.”

That’s what Laswell read during the brief eight months ago. “They want to basically fry atoms in the air with nuclear radiation, and kickstart survival of the fittest to see what’ll happen.”

“So, mad scientists?” Price summed up with annoyance. Thumb drumming on the table as he leaned back in his chair.

“The hypothetical seems… Enlightenin’, ay?” Scottish brouge mocks. Voice grating as gum pops.

“Easy, Johnny.” Masked weight shifted in his chair, arms crossed; eyes glowered at the screen through balaclava. “We handle this like we handle the rest, aye?”

“Not exactly… It’s experimental right now.” Laswell gestures to the screen, click of the remote in hand; slide show flickering to the next page. Deleted and encrypted forums from illegal sites. “Intel managed to decode a majority, but compounds in the equations got scrubbed by the site’s moderator. We’ve got about half the equation on the board for bow, and it’s not pretty from what the Snoops gathered.” She glares at the formula on screen. “Basically, from what I was told, they charged the bombs with electricity by polarizing the nuclei before they split them. Kinda like forcing two magnets together until they shatter. Fortunately, because the shards after the explosion try to rotate and magnetize, we won’t see an explosion like world war two but it’s still pretty destructive.”

“Well, that’s assuring. Jus’ us against a clock then, no?” Gaz’s knee bounces; steady tap of heel dulls against the tile as his boot makes contact.

They found out later that the bombs were worse in other ways. The radiation had a larger area of effect; it started off with small reactions in people. Feelings of numbness in bodies, higher electrical conductivity that killed people with pacemakers and other assortments of medical devices… The bombs got more advanced with each “failure”; got more deadly… Then the narrative changed.

“Re: ‘Nuclear charged electrons and nuclei. Evolution of The Human Race and Advancement of Nature.’ What if we used 2 positive polars instead of 2 negative polars?”

Intel managed to scrub the site for the location of the new bomb, even though they didn’t get a time, it was still enough to deploy.

For some reason, his luck always seems to run out in the most inopportune moments; and his skin feels like it’s on fire as electricity chases up his veins… Shit.

They got there as the bomb had gone off. Landed not even 40 minutes prior, they’re lucky in all honesty that they didn’t make it into the garage; but that doesn’t stop the air that feels like bricks slamming through their chests, the impact after getting knocked off foot isn’t a new feeling… But the charged air is.

Thick, heavy, suffocating; it reminds him of Mexico, being buried alive- that’s not the jarring part… The electricity is; a dense charged fog that clouds around their feet in a dusty orange. A static shock with every ragged breath, every movement subtle or not. Slow electrocution, that’s what it feels like.

“Johnny?” Simon manages up to his knees, head tilted to glaze the Scotsman still laid out. He breathes despite the pain when the brunette groans, rolling onto his back.

“Aye, gona’ need ‘a pint aft’ this’, LT.” Soap mutters; breathing shallow and labored.

Price got the worst of it, always in lead. Gaz kneeling over him. “Broken, Cap’?”

“Not,” a huff, “yet, Sergeant.” He slowly sits up with help of the younger man.

“Never simple, ‘init?” Simon rumbles reaching his feet finally, head on a swivel; rumble, car alarms matching the ringing in his ears, civilians laid out. Some screaming, some silent; the consistency? Horror and shock, pain and fear. He huffs. “Orders, John?”

Deep breaths sound from the Captain as he catches air; trying to fuel his body past pain as he stands. Knee twisted no doubt by his limp, hand raising to his chest where his calloused hands grasp his radio. “Bravo Six to Watcher, do you copy? Over.”

“Watcher to Bravo Six, copy. Over.”

“Got a situation down ‘ere, Watcher. Timing was all off, bomb detonated. Over.”

A brief pause that Simon recognizes, no doubt Laswell cursing off comms.

“Copy, change objective. Aid and retreat. Clear site; sending EVAC. Over.”

“Copy. Over and out.” John nods. They have their orders; they organize and move.

It’s methodical. Swift. Local government doesn’t take long to send in guard and emergency personnel; code victims, organize, and aid.

Physical contact proves to be some disaster though after a few minutes of evacuation.

A shrill scream paired with a baritone cry; both dropping to ground where lightning seemingly struck between bodies… Then again, two men. Next an elderly couple who made it out alive on the sidewalk.

Blue. Purple. Gold. The light doesn’t discriminate, nor the order of choice to strike. It’s seemingly at random. Smell of burnt flesh, and angry scars…

“Bloody hell!” Price’s voice rings, dragging a body by vest away from a woman. Gaz, the first of the team to drop, out cold, but alive.

“Steamin’ Jesus!” Johnny, the closer of the two rushes to aid, med kit already out and open as his knees make contact with concrete. Torch in gloved hand checking the colored man’s eyes for dilation.

It’s enough to put pause on rescue. Everyone freezing in place as eight people almost simultaneously collapsed at first attempts to help.

Dark eyes scavenge for answer. The man and woman, the two men, the couple, gaz- gloves. Bare skin.

“Nobody touch anyone.” Simon’s voice carries. “It’s contact. Flesh.”

Orders, and people follow. EMS extra attentive; local forces grabbing gloves from pockets, police officers grabbing rubber gloves from kit.

Simon looks at his own gloves; the knuckles scuffed and tore from the blast when he landed in the street. Protective plating torn from the thick leather. Thank God for gear.

He has orders, his gaze lifts to John. A shared nod as they both move once Garrick coughs and wakes. Disoriented but fine otherwise by what MacTavish can tell. They have a job to do, no matter the circumstances.

Simon works alone, pulling people from rubble before handing them off to a medic/firefighter/cop on standby.

It was an accident when his grip slipped; his eyes meeting bleary pained ones, and Shit. He understands, eyes locked with yours as your hand wrapped around his in attempt not to fall back down, fingertips brushing against his bare knuckles.

Fireworks? No. Thunderstruck. That’s what the jolt feels like when electricity chases up his arm. Contact arcing like lava as the skin whelps instantly to scar. Like a knock to the jaw, stunning function of brain.

Yeah, he gets what that lightning means.

It means when he wakes up, he ain’t lettin’ you go, luv.

Tag List: @wickizer

Thank you for your support! ❤️

[vintage-tech]

useful information: How to get a USB Blu-Ray player to work on your computer

Not a post about vintage technology, just an explanation of what you think might be simple to do but isn't: There are Blu-Ray players that plug into your computer by USB, and you discover that just plugging it in doesn't make it work* in the same manner that CD-RWs or DVD-RWs are automatically recognised and function. You will see "BR Drive" in My Computer and the name of whatever movie you have inserted, but that's as far as you're able to go.

*There is software you can buy to make a Blu-Ray (internal or external) function, sure, and if an internal came with your computer it's likely already installed -- but if you're like me you don't have that software, you're cheap and won't pay for software, and you want to use what you have installed already or find free solutions.

Looking in the Blu-Ray drive's package, there's not a lot of info about what you're supposed to do. The above no-name Blu-Ray player cost $40 from a popular website; name-brand ones can set you back $120 or so. Looking around online for those instructions, I never saw the whole set of directions in one place, I had to cobble them together from 2 or 3 sites. And so here I share that list. To keep out of trouble, I'm not linking any files -- Google will help you.

Get VLC, the free video player available for pretty much any operating system. Thing is, it doesn't come with the internals to make it work with Blu-Ray even if when you go to the Play Media menu there is a radio button for selecting Blu-Ray.

Get MakeMKV, a decoder for reading Blu-Ray disks. This had been totally free during the beta testing period but it's come out and has a month or two trial period you can work in.

Get Java if you don't already have it. Reason for this is, the menu systems on Blu-Ray disks uses this... technically it's not required, however it does mean you don't have options such as special features, language and sound changes, or scene selection if you don't have Java installed; insert a disk, it can only play the movie.

Get the file libaacs.dll online so you have AACS decoding. I am told it hasn't been updated in awhile so there may be disks produced after 2013 that won't work right, but you won't know until you try.

There's a set of keys you will also want to have so that the player knows how to work with specific disks, and so do a search online for the "FindVUK Online Database". There will be a regularly-updated keydb.cfg archive file on that page to pick up.

Got those three programs installed and the other two files obtained? Okay, here are your instructions for assembly...

In VLC: go to Tools, Prefs, click "show all"… under the Input/Codecs heading is Access Modules then Blu-Ray: Select your region, A through C. You can change this if you need to for foreign disks. Next related action: go to My Computer and C:, click into Program Files and VLC, and this is where you copy the libaacs.dll file to.

In MakeMKV: click View, then Preferences, and under Integration - add VLC.

Confirm that Java is set up to work with VLC by going to the computer's Control Panel, going to System Properties, and into Environment Variables. Click System Variables, and click New to create this key if it doesn't already exist: … Name: Java … Value: [the location of the Java 'jre#.##' folder... use Browse to find it in C:\Program Files\Java]

Let's go back into My Computer and C:, this time go to Program Data, and then do a right-click in the window and select New and Folder. Rename this folder "aacs" (without the quotes), and then you click into it and copy the keydb.cfg file here.

REBOOT.

And now you should be able to recognise Blu-Ray disks in your player and play them. Three troubleshooting notes to offer in VLC:

"Disk corrupt" -- this means MakeMKV has not decoded and parsed the disk yet, or that you don't have the libaacs.dll in place so that it can decode the disk. ...After checking the VLC folder for the DLL to make sure, launch MakeMKV, then go to File, Play Disk, and select the Blu-Ray drive. Now it will grind a bit and figure out the disk's contents.

A note appears when a movie starts saying there will be no menus, but the movie plays fine -- Java isn't running. ...Invoke Java by going to the Java Settings in Start: Programs. You don't have to change anything here, so Exit, then eject the disk and put it back in to see if the movie's menu now appears.

Buffering between chapters, making the movie pause for a few seconds? There is a setting for this but I need to find that info page again for where that is. (If you find it, tell me where it is!)

I don't claim to know a lot but if you have any questions I might have some answers or suggestions. So far I've watched "Office Space" and Disney's "Coco" without any issues beside occasional buffering.

[atlaskrr]

[The Eye] Link Click Yingdu OP Analysis

In the first scene we can see lu guang being seperated in two, his past which is in color and he himself who is in grey. This is mainly a visual thing but can also symbolize the change in his soul after all the dives, especially his blood tainted hand which is likely left from cheng xiaoshis blood when he held him (though lu guang playing a role in one of his death is possible.

in this opening scene we also see this butterfly which could be refrencing the butterfly effect

• Black and white butterflies symbolize balance and harmony

• They often represent transformation and new beginnings

• Seeing a black and white butterfly might be a sign of spiritual growth

• These butterflies can remind us to embrace both light and dark aspects of life

butterflies alo have many other symbolisms such as: love, luck, dreams, yin and yang, new beginnings, transformation, cn medicine, etc

heres my more in depth analysis

as it also appeared in the s2 op draft

its also shiguang colors lol which also ties to yin and yang.

another visual element we see a lot of is these white feathers

common symbolisms for them are

love (cn)

protection (celtic, indegenous)

spirtual

the divine

innocence, new beginnings and hope etctetc (ties to butterflies)

guidance (christianity)

good luck and fortune in china

soulmates

most connotations are positive but in WW1 it was used as a symbol of cowardice to get men to serve in the military.

one i find especially interesting is the egyptian myth tied to feathers. In ancient Egypt, the white feather represented truth and judgment. It was believed that, when a person died, they faced tests to gain entry into the afterlife. One test involved weighing the person’s heart against the white feather of the goddess Ma’at. If the heart weighed more than the feather, the person was found to be unworthy, and they would be sent into darkness. If the person was virtuous, the scales would be balanced, and the god Osiris would welcome them to the afterlife. In this context, the white feather symbolizes truth and divine justice. Tying to a lot of the divine symbolism we've gotten in the villain chara pvs such as liu xiaos.

Could this be about lu guang facing judgement?

the sign on the passing bus says "look carefully" as well as "afternoon tea". low and behold when we see tea

the only characters with gloved hands are vein and xia fei and based on the style this is probably vein.

thats relevant because of this. this is a pigpen code with a ceaser cipher. dark_decay and roshieberry on the lc discord server decoded it to this

```

IN THE HEART OF THE FOREST A SUDDEN

PANIC SPREAD AMONG THE ANIMALS [...] FOX

[...] RECTING [...] ELEPHANT TO DOUSE THE FLAMES

SWIFTLY SPREADING MESSAGES OF URGENCY

HOWEVER THEY ONLY CARED ABOUT FLEEING FOR SAFETY

THE FOREST SUCCUMBED TO THE FIRES WRATH

DETERMINED TO PREVENT SUCH TRAGEDIES THE ANIMALS

HIRED A DETECTIVE TO UNCOVER THE CULPRIT WHAT THEY

DISCOVERED WAS BEYOND THEIR WILDEST

IMAGINATIONS

HE BELIEVED THAT THE KEY TO SOLVING THE PROBLEM WAS

TO ELIMINATE ALL POTENTIAL SPARKS THAT COULD

IGNITE TROUBLE

```

the fox could refer to the twins or perhaps vein or xiafei since we dont know their animals yet. this feels like it could explain how these powers even came to be, a way to prevent tragedy? to investigate as shiguang does? the last paragraph seems to be right up liu xiaos alley of thinking.

these bells and clock actually corelate as 3 bells is 9 30 in a ships bell, the time on the clock. the lyrics in the scene befire the bells appears also refrences the ringing of bells and 9pm (which would be two bells) im not exactly sure on this significance but ig we'll see.

---

now thats it for the hidden things. there are skme more obvious concerns such as

yk. vein pointing a gun at lu guang. now while this could be the case i actually think this is refrencing one of cheng xiaoshis deaths, by veins hand. this is because all the other scenes seem to point through lu guang shifting through different timelines in a montage such as the ones in the mvs.

this ties to why hes crying later on in the basketball court in this montage (not like he doesnt have a million reasons to cry already) also, one of the scenes flashing here seem to tie back to that divinity them with the lighting

these all contain actual scenes from the show so the following montage is of the past from lgs prespective.

here we see the photograoh transforming into a bubble, confirming this

one of them is this which someone pointed out cxs possibly has an elbow brace from an injury

additional details i ran out of images to show is lu guang coming into color when held by cheng xiaoshi, the shakespheres sonnets making a return and vein watching everyone, as well as the woman from the newspaper in the poster making an apperance. also lg and vein in the same room but its still grey lg. are they connected??

theres also the notebook at the end which appears to contain something but its very blurry and i suck at reading cursive so if anyone figures it out please do tell. also let me know if i missed anything i love everyones analysises

[sweetlady555]

In your Destiny Matrix Chart, when the arcana you started with repeats itself at a later stage of your life it symbolizes a full-circle moment where everything suddenly just *CLICKS* !

Lets say you were born with a 8 arcana starting from 0, and when you turn 18.5-19, the same 8 arcana reappears, this can show and signify major rebirth happening that year and it can feel like opening your eyes for the first time again.

Expect to see life with new clarity and stepping into alignment with your souls purpose.

Heres a link to see your Destiny Matrix Chart if you haven’t already, its such a powerful tool similar to a solar return chart except it shows the main theme for that year according to the arcanas (tarot) !

[zitrontorte]

NSOTF Ad Secret

The NSOTF website has fun little in-lore "ads" that pop up in the Promoted box under the series cover page and the link to the latest chapter. Most of them have thumbnails of talents from one of the Big Three agencies and link, accordingly, to the webpages of those agencies.

One of them is completely blank.

(The NSOTF homepage with a blank ad.)

Let's see where it goes.

Clicking the ad brings you to nsotf.com/h/, which is apparently a page with nothing on it.

Hitting ctrl+a or clicking and dragging over the top of the page reveals a string of characters. These are illegible, so I searched "text decoder" and found this website:

www.dcode.fr/cipher-identifier. Pasting the text into the box and hitting the "ANALYZE" button gives a set of likely encodings.

Here, the only option in the list that comes up with anything is ASCII85 Encoding, so I click that.

Now all that's left is to hit "DECRYPT". The website already pasted the text in the input box for me.

A message in plain English appears on the left side of the page. It says:

Do you think everyone's already forgotten about me? … I'll bet they have. My replacement's already shining on that stage, after all…. It's as if I wasn't ever there. But I was, wasn't I? I was there, right? My existence- it surely was worth something, wasn't it…? …. You agree, don't you, M?

Frankly I have no idea who could have said this. It can't have been Tech--at least, not the Tech we know now, who seems to have entirely moved on from the idol business. And it doesn't sound like her. If anything, it sounds like Shine, who has never been on a stage and therefore does not have a replacement for the job she never had.

I can't think of anyone with a "replacement" except for Roll's brother, Rock, but Honey never actually replaced him because Roll didn't agree to the fake-twin-contract deal. He shouldn't even know that his agency tried to replace him with another Len. And he was never onstage anyway.

It sounds like this is coming from an idol who disappeared from the public eye and who was either part of a group (and had their slot in the group replaced after they left) or had some kind of persona (that got adopted by someone else after they left). I can't think of a group so far that had one of its members replaced. As for personas, it could be Magical Mirai or Snow Miku, but every Miku in either of those shows is her own character--it's not like they kept putting Snow Miku in the same recolored V2 costume forever.

And who could "M" be? Momo or Mimi, Shine's classmates? Muresu, the Minase Kou from O-Len's show (who I had to dig through the comic to find)? Mikuo? Miku????

Conclusion? Idk. I bet neither the speaker nor M have even been mentioned in the comic yet and I'm just grasping at straws. Fun monologue, though.