#'whats important is that we can make words in the right sequence and not that we are actualyl saying anything'

[dullahandyke]

sidenote speaking of polls that infuriated me, that poll like 'does a story require themes to be good' was sent from hell to kill me

[freedomfireflies]

Off the Shelf*

Summary: The second part to 404*

The one where you hate working with Harry and can’t ever seem to agree.

Except on one thing.

Word Count: 3.9k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

(Note: This edit is not mine!! I believe the @ is on it, but full credit to the incredible creator! It's so perfect!!)

“And what seems to be the problem?”

Instantly, you and Harry are at each other's throats.

“I told him two fucking times to check his email for confirmation—”

“She wouldn’t shut up about the goddamn code—”

“—like that’s somehow my fault when he’s never on time—”

“—already in the middle of fucking rewriting the last sequence—”

“—which is ridiculous because I already told him—”

“—can’t do fucking anything when she’s yapping in my ear all goddamn day—”

“Okay, okay, all right,” Mr. Prescott sighs, raising his palms in surrender. “Let’s just take a breath—”

“She’s fucking up our project,” Harry interjects before leaning back. “Sir.”

Mr. Prescott rests his arms on his desk and glances between you. “From what I remember, the two of you agreed to work on finalizing the AI program. Comb through the bugs and whatnot.”

“Yeah, well, that was before he decided it was a waste of his time,” you retort, ignoring Harry’s obvious glare.

“That’s not what I said,” he huffs. “I said that we need to be working on expanding the GUI—”

“Except that wasn’t a part of our job, so—”

“Oh, and what? I can’t try to make the program better?”

“Maybe if you knew how—”

“I got hired for the same fucking job you did—”

“A job you don’t even want to do—”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t do it—”

“Oh, bite me, Harold—”

“All right, all right,” Mr. Prescott interjects, running a hand down his cheek. “Listen, the two of you are more than qualified for the position and perfectly capable of executing the sequence you were designing. I understand it can be hard to collaborate, but this is what you agreed on—”

“I don’t mind collaborating as long as he does what I need him to do,” you correct while Harry scoffs and uses his knuckle to shove his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “He just doesn’t like to listen.”

“If what you were saying was worth listening to, maybe I would,” he agrees. “But until then, I’d like to handle my shit and you can handle yours.”

Stuck without much dispute, you bring your attention back to Mr. Prescott, eager for his response. 

The poor, older gentleman crosses his arms and studies you both, seemingly unconvinced but perhaps too exhausted to fight it. “That’s fine by me. As long as you’re reporting your progress to your supervisors – and to each other – I don’t see why you can’t work on different aspects of the sequence.”

“Thank you, sir,” you exhale, glancing toward your partner who’s already turning around on his heel. “Uh, we really appreciate it. And we won’t cause any more trouble. We swear.”

“She swears,” Harry calls, already halfway out the door. “I don’t swear anything.”

Biting back a snort, you scurry after him and toss Mr. Prescott one final, “Thank you again!” before the door falls shut.

Harry is rounding the corner when you finally catch up, hands shoved into his dark jean pockets, and shoulders slightly tense. It’s not unusual, you suppose. He’s always tense. Muscles rigid beneath his clothing. Lip perpetually stuck between his teeth as he gnaws on the pink fibers until they tear and bleed. And glasses that are always about halfway down his nose from the bouncing of his knee.

He’s striding through the lab like he’s got somewhere important to be, and it drives you fucking mad because he’s technically done for the day. The only thing the two of you have left is a staff meeting with your supervisor before everybody is allowed to head home, and that shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.

But you don’t like when he walks like that. You aren’t sure why, but it’s always irritated you. Like he thinks he’s so goddamn special – so important. Like his presence is so valuable. And even worse, he’s always walking away from you. Like your presence isn’t.

However, instead of going straight to his desk – his favorite hiding spot – he rounds another corner and disappears into the next hall.

You pause, unsure whether or not to follow. He had to have known you were right behind him, so is he leading you somewhere? Or is he simply trying to escape you?

Either option seems likely.

Curiosity outweighs logic, and you continue after him until you manage to find where he’s disappeared to.

He’s hiding in the shadows of the abandoned walkway, lurking near a door you don’t recognize, his eyes now on you.

You skid to a stop, confused and a little cautious of the smirk on his face. “Uh…what? What are you…the hell are you doing?”

“You are so fucking annoying, you know that?” he scoffs, nodding his chin at you. “‘Oh, Mr. Prescott, Harry’s being mean to me. Oh, Mr. Prescott, Harry won’t do what I want.’”

Your eyes narrow at the falsetto tone of voice used to mock you. “Fuck you, I’m just trying to get our shit done and over with so we can move on—”

“Clearly,” he hums, but it’s riddled with sarcasm. “No, yeah. You wasting time going through the same data I’ve already been through is a great use of our time—”

“I’m going through it because I’m trying to make it better—”

“I made it. It was already better—”

“God, you are so fucking dumb—”

“Yeah, and you’re a cunt,” he retorts before he’s reaching for the door and swinging it open. “Get in.”

A bit stunned by the sudden and strange command, you blink. “...what?”

“I said, get. In. What, are you deaf and stupid?”

“Harry, it’s the middle of the goddamn day—”

“Get in the fucking closet, Tinkerbell, before I come over there and make you.”

Your eyes roll but you aren’t about to pretend you aren’t intrigued. Despite your revulsion for him, he seems to be in possession of the cheat code to your sex drive. All it takes is a look or a suggestive comment (or a rather rude demand for you to get inside a tiny storage closet) for you to fall victim to his intentions.

And it’s been that way since you met him. 

Which only makes it that much more infuriating.

You obey – with a pointed scowl – striding past him and into the small space as he follows suit and pulls the door shut.

A light flickers on overhead, allowing you to see Harry’s amused expression as you huff, “Now what—”

He kisses you. Instantly and without a single moment of pause. His palms quickly press to the wall beside your head, caging you between his arms as he takes your tongue between his lip and sucks. 

His glasses are cold against your face. You remember how they used to scratch you when the two of you first started this little arrangement but they don’t as much anymore. You think he might have changed the frames for this very reason, but you aren’t sure.

After all, that would be nice, and Harry isn’t nice.

“Harry—” you pant during a quick gasp for air. “We don’t have time—”

“I’m making time,” he counters, pressing his hips into yours while his mouth moves to your neck.

You want to snort your exasperation, but you’re too far lost in the feel of his body. “I thought you had shit to handle.”

“I do,” he replies smoothly, his hand now curving around your cunt until he can squeeze it tight in his grasp. “This is me handling my shit.”

His touch is unforgiving but incredibly welcome, and you whine softly before quickly reaching for his hair. “I thought I was annoying.”

“You are,” he says, sucking bruises into the space below your ear. “But there’s something about the way you stomp your little foot and tell on me that gets me all hot and bothered.”

You yank on his curls until he hisses, although he’s still much too smug. “So this has nothing to do with the girl who dropped by earlier? Or the fact that you apparently couldn’t finish?”

His eyebrow raises but he’s biting back a smile. “What girl?”

“Ha. Very funny. Are you gonna fuck me or are you gonna try to be cute?”

“Why can’t I do both?” he retorts, grinning wildly before pressing his lips to yours once more. 

It feels familiar, this routine. This dance you’ve so quickly memorized, and it becomes increasingly easier to play along as you scratch your nails against his scalp and tug on the loop of his pants.

His hand slips into your jeans, the tips of his rough fingers smoothing down the front of your panties. A teasing touch, and you jolt in his hold before grabbing onto him harder.

“Harry,” you sigh, lashes fluttering as your head falls back into the wall behind you. “God, just…hurry. Please—”

“No.” It’s an easy response. Cruel, almost. But he’s focused on you. On your body and the way it responds to him. “I’m working right now, Tink. Leave me to it.”

He crouches down, pulling on the fabric around your legs until it pools near your ankles. He seems tantalized by the way your pussy sits so close to his face. The way it looks behind the pale blue cotton with the tiny bow. 

He surges forward and presses his mouth to you. Lapping at the material until there’s a rather obvious wet patch – either from you or him, you can’t really be sure – while making your eyes roll back.

“Shit,” you whimper, once again grabbing onto his curls for stability. “God, Harry…we don’t have time for this.”

He smirks against your cunt before dragging his tongue over your covered clit. “D’ya want me to stop?”

Your lips form around the word, “Yes,” but what comes out is a very strained and breathless, “No. Please, no.”

He grins, large palms kneading on the flesh of your thighs to keep them spread before he lands a firm smack to your leg. “Good girl.”

His technique is sinful. Ruthless yet mesmeric, and you look at him with a kind of wonder you can’t explain.

Harry isn’t anything like what you expected. He’s incredibly smart and focused. He cares about his work to a point of obsession. He’s a perfectionist, through and through. He’s diligent and has a great attention for detail.

And yet this man has the most insatiable appetite for sex. 

His list of kinks is a mile long. He’s out almost every night at bars, at clubs, at parties. He likes degradation, he likes pain, he likes bondage. He likes to bend you over your desk and spank you until your skin is raw and red. He likes to yank on your hair and drag his teeth down your throat. He likes to go deep – likes to go hard and slow. 

You aren’t sure why you assumed he’d be docile and a bit vanilla in bed. Perhaps it was the glasses or the way he always corrected your grammar. Which you know wasn’t exactly a fair assumption, but you didn’t have much else to go on.

Well…until the first time.

“You’re holding your breath,” he murmurs from beneath you, forcing your attention back. “Stop doing that.”

Sucking in a quiet inhale, you oblige. “Sorry.”

You have a rather dangerous habit of taking in large gasps for air when he’s eating you out or making you feel good and then forgetting to release them. Which is all fun and games until you begin to feel a bit lightheaded and nearly pass out. In fact, one time you almost did, and it had scared Harry so bad, he refused to touch you for about a week.

Glancing up to make sure you’ve obeyed, he nods once. “Attagirl.”

Your cheeks warm slightly at the praise – another nasty habit you wish you could break – before he’s diving back in.

Despite the way the seconds are ticking by on your watch, Harry continues to revel in the taste of you, even through your panties. He hums until your legs shake, head bobbing to accompany his mouthing at your pussy.

He enjoys eating you, even like this. He always has and you can’t say you quite understand it. Perhaps it’s the power it gives him. The way you whine and whimper. The way you grab at him and give him everything you have to offer. The way you fucking hate him…yet you still let him in.

“Harry, please,” you nearly groan, tugging on him again. “If you’re gonna fuck me, then fuck me already. We don’t have time.”

He makes a tsking sort of noise before nudging his tongue against the front of your underwear. “God, you’re no fucking fun, you know that? And to think I was actually gonna take my time with you.”

Your expression is playfully unamused, but you can’t deny you’re somewhat curious.

He lands another spank to your leg and stands back up. “But that’s not what you want, huh? You just want me to be quick. Want me to fill you up and send you on your way. Don’t want me to play with you.”

You watch as he flicks his belt open and steps closer to you, a rather salacious look in his eye.

“And wouldn’t that be a shame?” he whispers, long fingers sweeping up the inside of your thigh. “For you to go into that meeting with my cum dripping down your leg? When you can’t do anything about it?”

You feel your breath catch, throat going dry at the way he drags the tip of his nose along your jaw. You want to resist him – you should resist him. And yet… 

“Maybe it would be,” you reply coyly. “If you could get it up.”

To accompany your taunt, you reach down and press your palm to his cock, smirking when he sucks in a sharp hiss through gritted teeth.

“Seems you’ve gone soft on me,” you murmur, squeezing once more for good measure before releasing him. “That’s the real shame.”

The hand beside your head smacks against the wall. “S’cute, Tink. Real fucking cute—”

“Is it because of her?” you ask, straightening up until you can ghost your lips along his. Close, but not close enough. “Could she not take your tiny, little dick down her throat?”

You notice the way he swallows. The way the muscles in his arm flex beside you. The way his lashes flutter angrily from behind his glasses.

“Or could you not get yourself off?” You reach for him again. He's already beginning to harden from your touch – your voice – and despite yourself, your ego swells. “Was it when you were fucking your fist in your car this morning? Were you thinking about her? Is that why you couldn’t get hard?”

Something finally snaps, and instantly, you feel his fingers slipping around your throat. Just hard enough to make you grin. “What if I was thinking about you?”

“Mm. I don’t think so. Said it yourself. If you’re thinking about me…you’re always hard.”

He’s amused by this, squeezing your neck before surging forward to kiss you again. “Naughty little Tinkerbell.”

You smile.

With this, he spins you around and tosses you toward the empty and somewhat dusty bookcase in the corner of the closet. His touch is firm and unrelenting. Perhaps even a little cruel. The way he tugs on your hips as though to punish you. The way he shoves you until you’re bent over the shelf, allowing him access to your body like it’s his right.

And you don’t mind. This is the kind of dominance you’ve come to expect from the quiet yet horny man you work with.

Your underwear is yanked to the ground, the sound of a ripping stitch echoing throughout the small space. You frown but you don’t comment.

His palm smooths along your pussy, cupping it somewhat gently before his thumb flicks across your clit. He just wants to see you jump. Make you whine and push back into his touch. 

You hear him chuckle. “Easy, princess. Gotta make sure you’re ready first.”

“I’m ready, just go,” you huff, staring down at the dust beneath you. 

His finger slides inside your cunt, feeling you out for only a moment before retreating. “I don’t know. Seem a little tense.”

“If I’m with you, I’m tense,” you retort, making him smile. “Go already.”

“Now, now,” he warns, slipping in a second finger. “You wouldn’t rush Picasso, would you?”

You groan. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry—”

“What?” He’s enjoying himself. “I’m the painter, and you are my art.”

“No, you’re fucking irritating, that’s what you are.”

“Oh, come on, I thought girls liked sappy analogies like that.”

“No, they like to get fucked. So, hurry up already.”

He lands another smack to your ass before dipping down to whisper, “As you wish.”

You hear the sound of him pulling himself out before you feel the tip of his cock dragging through your arousal. Collecting every drop while slowly pushing in.

He’s right, you are tense. And the stretch that accompanies his large size is enough to make you wince, yet…you love it.

Despite the slight pain, it feels good. Full in every sense of the word, and you focus on the deep breaths you’re taking as your nails begin to curl into the shelf. 

Through clenched teeth, Harry calls, “You okay, Tink?”

“Mhm,” you hum, lashes fluttering shut. “This is easy. In fact, you could go faster, actually.”

He exhales a strained laugh, readjusting his hands on your hips. “Funny.”

“Yeah, I’m hysterical.”

He pushes in a bit further but still slow. He knows your body well enough to know what it can handle. And he understands his size is a touch above average. 

Although he never lets you forget it.

“Being so brave,” he coos with a playful air of condescension. “My brave girl, yeah? Taking it like a champ.”

“Bite me, Styles.”

“Yeah? Just tell me where.”

You get ready to respond, but your remark is ripped from your throat when he suddenly drives in to the hilt. Ripping off the band aid and giving you exactly three seconds to adjust before he begins to fuck you.

The push and pull is everything. The pace, the anger, the pain. His hand is against your scalp, keeping you bent and pliable to his intentions. He’s grunting softly, slowing down just to speed back up. He listens to the noises you make, the way you clench around him. And he uses that to decide what he does next.

Your heart is hammering in your chest and your stomach is doing cartwheels. It’s as though this is the first rush of relief you’ve felt in weeks. Your hands can’t do it. Your vibrator can’t do it. Not even the guy you met at the bar could do it. 

Nobody can do it like he can.

And you fucking hate it.

He lets go of your hair to reach around and slip his hand up your shirt. Finding your tit and giving it a nice squeeze before slapping his palm along the tender flesh. “Oh, you like that, princess, don’t you?”

You nod faintly, whimpering from the subtle sting, silently requesting he do it again. 

So, he does. “S’cute how much you love when I hurt you. Makes me think you might even like me.”

You manage to scoff between unhinged whines. “Shut up, Harry.”

“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?” he continues. “You like me more than you think you do. That’s why you always do what I ask. Like a good girl.”

You sneak a glimpse over your shoulder, studying the crooked angle of his glasses, and the slight smirk on his face. 

He’s cute, you think. He’s always been kind of cute, but he’s especially cute when he’s ripping you apart from the inside out.

He meets your eye and travels his fingers down to your clit. “Need more, don’t you?”

But you don’t just need more. You need everything. 

He pinches you tight and readjusts his stance to make sure he’s fucking into you at just the right speed. Just the right place to make your back arch and your toes curl. 

“Gonna have to cum for me,” he grits, the graveled request woven between your anxious moans. “You wanted quick, so be fucking quick.”

You nod your agreement, the pleasure at the base of your spine building until it becomes your singular focus. 

You hadn’t realized you were this worked up. Hadn’t anticipated being so close to release after such a short amount of time but maybe Harry was right about something else. Maybe fighting with him is your aphrodisiac.

The first few sparks explode behind your eyelids, taunting you with more as he begins to groan softly from behind you. 

“Fucking shit—” His hips are slapping into your ass, the sound of your arousal being fucked into you by his cock like music to your ears. “There you go, princess. Just like that – keep squeezing me. Yeah…fuck.”

He’s close and you clench around him to get him closer, needing to feel him fill you more than you need air in your lungs. 

When he does, it tips the rest of the dominos. One after the other until everything is falling apart. The warmth of his cum inside of you, the pulsing of his cock in your pussy, the scattering of pleasure between your thighs.

And he sounds so beautiful. Rough and exceedingly desperate. The most perfect, delicious sound and it makes your stomach flip in the most excruciating way. You could listen to him for hours. Could get off to his voice alone, the way he grunts and moans for you. The way he says your name through a heated curse and spanks his hand along your ass.

“S’fucking good, Tink,” he exhales, tightening his hold on your waist to keep you upright and steady. “Milk me, baby, come on. Fucking take it.”

You can feel him dripping down your legs. Can feel the heat and the soreness already settling but you thrive off it. Indulge in the way he takes care of you for a moment more before finally pulling out and turning you around.

He checks your face for signs of distress. Brows furrowed and expression scrutinous from behind his glasses. You can tell he’s got another sarcastic comment locked and loaded but before he can fire it, you reach up, and slip the frames from his nose.

Then, you kiss him. Hard and with fervor. It’s oddly passionate – perhaps filled with the lingering frustration from your previous altercation. But you don’t mind. It feels like him.

After a minute or two, you pop off his tongue, return his glasses to nose, and shove him back. “And now we’re gonna be late.”

He smiles to himself, stepping closer once more to run his thumb just beneath your eye. Collecting what you assume are dried tears and runny mascara. “Oops.”

However, before you can pull your jeans back on, Harry is crouching down and grabbing onto the material for you.

He pulls your panties up and secures them around your hips, ignoring the sticky cum beginning to seep out of your pussy. 

Confused, your eyes narrow. “Har—"

“I told you,” he says calmly while zipping your jeans. “You’re gonna go into that meeting with me inside you.”

You feel your heart skip.

“But maybe if you’re good,” he whispers before looking up with a devious wink, “…I’ll do something about it.”

Next Part:

~ SnakeBite*

Previous Part:

~ 404*

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics

[othervee]

Finale thoughts!

Interesting to find out that Hillerska has had multiple warnings over several years and still didn't pull their heads in. Clearly they thought they were invincible.

Vincent and Nils stepping up to the plate when they see August's genuine distress, the way Vincent is stroking his arm. There's real friendship and love to be found, but you only see it when you're honest. Similarly, their reactions when they find out that August is backup. August receiving the posioned chalice. What else can he do now, though? He's lost Arnas, or at least part of it. He has to do the military service; he's in the position Wille has been in.

Haha, the housemaster having a drink with the boys. What else is he going to do?

Loved the scene with Felice dragging Wille to the party. Her facial expressions, she's so cute. Wille negotiating with Malin shows a level of maturity, but the male bodyguard is SO not impressed as he follows them to the palace, LOL.

LOVE that Simon brought Rosh and Ayub to the white party. And Ayub reassuring Rosh, after Stella shows herself for who she is. She's chosen the Hillerska way, all the way.

The scene between Wille and August in the clubroom. He didn't know it, but that was the closure he needed. THat they both needed. They've made peace, they can even develop a familial relationship again into the future, but right now this is as close to peace as they can have at this stage.

Nils, you giant dork. And also... They're shocked he didn't say anything earlier,  but would things have been different if he had?

No Royal house, no Prince, no socialist, no drama. No before. No later. Only now. As the previous song said, back to basics. Back to the pure connection they have with each other.

The lake scene. So beautiful.

Simon's Song! Did Felice initiate that, do we think? A few of the choir were smiling at Simon. Nice to see they all (or most of them) wanted that and not the musty old version.

Oh, Kristina, that really is too little too late, but I'm glad you came through in the end.

The little token the Queen and Duke put around August's neck is a frog prince. The symbolism would be a sledgehammer if the direction or script drew attention to that, but they don't.

In the car, Wille beginning to feel the panic attack happening, the constriction of the collar around his neck, and realising what that means. This is an unhealthy system and if he stays in it, this will be his life. The constriction, the desperation, literally struggling to breathe. Echoing Simon's words to him, "I've seen how it makes you feel". Being calm because he's no longer coming from a place of despair, a place where he has no control. And Kristina knows it. It was important for Wille to tell his parents he loves them. He's coming to terms and making peace with everyone.

That closing scene, oh my god. The montage was cheesy as fuck and I am here for it. The dialogue and the execution were not cheesy. They established the important things. Wille is doing this for his sake, not for Simon's. For the first time in his life he is making an informed, calm, active choice.

Simon's FACE. OMG. The shock, barely daring to believe it, but knowing when Wille says 'For my own sake' that this is it. It's real. And then! The tears, the gasping, the incredulous joy! Omar is a natural who stepped it up even more this season, and I do hope he continues to take on acting roles because he is amazing.

Wille's FACE. The joy but more importantly the PEACE.  His entire being, his posture, his aura changes and he radiates rightness. Edvin is incredible.

Also? They both look so, SO beautiful in this episode. This closing sequence, but really the entire episode.

Heading off into the sun, in white, whooping and cheering, Felice with her legs up on the dashboard, free.

And now I want LOADS of future fic about The Adventures of Wille, Simon, Sara och Felice. Tack, Lisa, for leaving it so open for us to do that!

[hazarambling]

Ok that Stonehearts trailer is making me think more about the IPC and I need to yap

The thing that struck me the most while i was watching it was this sequence of events where the resources bleeding out from the colonized planets was the thing that healed the cornerstone, but then opal says that "we will follow the preservation to the end"

this violent colonization (look at boothill's planet) inherently goes against everything the preservation stands for, so why are the stonehearts even able to call themselves followers of the preservation, much less draw power from it like the cornerstones themselves?

it could be linked to the IPC voracity theory but i dont like that theory so i won't go too in depth on it. it makes sense, but it's a bit boring tbh.

instead, let's get bogged down in semantics and interpretations of what 'preservation' can be seen as

because i think that's more interesting and can explain why the ipc follows the preservation and why qlipoth is fine with the ipc using their power.

the word preservation means "maintaining something in it's original state", "retaining a state of affairs", "maintaining a quality of something", "keeping something safe from harm or injury" and those are just 4 contexts where the meaning of the world is a bit different.

as we know, people can follow a path but not agree with all of it's ideals (lan was born to destroy the abundance, yet galaxy rangers, who don't care about the hunt-abundance feud, exist and can draw power from the path of the hunt). and since we know there are so many interpretations of the WORD preservation, it makes me wonder if the stonehearts do care about 'preservation', but fix it to suit their own need.

i think the clearest example of these extraordinary interpretations of preservation come with obsidian.

(notice how the stones of the more scheming, bloodthirsty stonehearts are right next to diamond (opal and obsidian), while amber (who "prefers to remain neutral") and topaz (who is seen as the least controversial) are much further away?)

obsidian's interpretation of preservation

aside from being another gorgeous dangerous lady voiced by the wonderful Erin Yvette (yay!!), obisidan is clearly a bit loopy. BUT, she draws power from the preservation (she has a cornerstone, and is a high rank in the ipc, p46, only being under diamond, a confirmed emanator, at p47.) so how does she interpret "preservation" to exist as such a contradictory state to the safety that qlipoth wants to provide?

i think her form of preservation is the preservation of the selfish part of humanity and the preservation of human indulgence.

firstly, we can see from her luxurious home, with everything enlaid with obsidian and covered in blood, shows the materialistic and violent side of obsidian's selfishness. she's here when making a decision about aventurine's fate, and her only comment about it is that SHE would "like everything to become more of a bloodbath". she doesn't care about him individually, she just cares about manipulating the status quo to suit herself - which she can easily achieve in the selfish and greedy ipc.

obsidian, as a stoneheart, being a famous person within the ipc, and an important ipc representative in the cosmos, can also serve as a personification for the cruellest parts of the ipc - the colonization, the violence. its important to recognize that obsidian is pretty, but that's just meant to MAKE us like her, so we ignore the wrongdoings of the ipc.

this wish of her's to maintain the status quo and only manipulate it when it suits her also links her to opal, who seems eager to rush off and get more power from diamond in the upcoming war among the aeons. opal seems to be selfish and manipulative too. i imagine they're quite the devilish pair when they want something.

i also think obsidian has something to do with life, considering the pomegranates (which represent life) we see next to her bath of blood, and also that obsidian blades were used in the distant past, and that obsidian is formed by volcanos (something destructive that also keeps life in check. the aftermath of volcanic eruptions is death, but also fertile lands).

considering these links to life (pomegranates), death (her love for bloodbaths and watching prey suffer), and pleasure (her extravagant home and preference to indulge in her violent hobbies), it seems that her view of preservation is one that encourages the preservation of the self indulgent, selfish side of humanity.

i think her having so many links to life, death and pleasure can also link to the ipc's motto "all for the amber lord" - everything, life, death and pleasure are all the domain of qlipoth and can be manipulated as much as anyone likes, as long as it suits the ipc and therefore qlipoth.

her viewpoint is that things should remain as they are, and that humanity should remain selfish and self-indulgent (which obsidian relates to, she has her obsidian bath of blood and her wine in her goblet, she wants to relish in the thrill of the hunt of her prey).

(of course, i'm going off of 2 pieces of symbolism, but stick with me. i wonder if any of this will turn out to be right? also HOORAY ERIN YVETTE VOICING SOMEONE IN HSR!!!)

[justlemmeadoreyou]

hopelessly devoted to you - 4

Summary: The divorce battle is here, and Harry has prepared you well. Will it go exactly how you wish it should?

Words: 4.3k+

Warnings: angst, crying, insecurities, a divorce and custody battle in court, a kiss. fluff too!

previous part here | series masterlist

The morning of the custody hearing, the courthouse was tense. . You walked in hand-in-hand with Harry, drawing strength from his reassuring presence. Elliot was already there, stone-faced with his arrogant lawyer in tow. The second you made eye contact, his expression twisted into a sneer, looking at you with so much anger and disgust.

Harry leaned in close as you took your seats. "Don't worry about him, yeah? We've got this in the bag as long as you stick to the truth."

He knew that Elliot still had an impact on you, years of torture doesn’t just slip away in one day. But when he wanted to pull you down, he knew he needed to be the support you could climb on to.

You gave a jerky nod, your stomach tying itself in knots. Despite all the evidence and preparation, a nagging voice whispered that it could all go wrong. That Elliot might somehow slither his way out unscathed like he always did. That he would take your daughter away from you, and you would end up with nothing.

The courtroom quieted as the bailiff's gruff voice rang out. "All rise for the honorable Judge Peterson."

Here we go.

The opening statements set an ominous tone. Elliot's lawyer, an oily shark of a man, wasted no time painting you as a scorned, unstable wife making reckless accusations against his client. He portrayed Elliot as a doting family man being unfairly persecuted. A man who was always devoted to his family, and never showed even the tiniest bit of anger toward you.

What a lie, what a lie, what a lie.

But the facade he was putting on didn’t seem to be working. He kept looking down, at the walls, at the stenographer, but never straight front, like an honest person would

Harry's jaw tensed, but his rebuttal was measured and methodical. Over the next few minutes, he clearly outlined the mountain of evidence against your soon-to-be ex -eyewitness testimonies, the drunken, unhinged video from your mother's home, and most damningly, Ellie's own statement about the threatening "uncle" who accompanied Elliot.

You could see the first fissures of doubt cracking Elliot's cocky veneer when Harry finished. His smug lawyer already looked rattled.

Finally, you were called to the stand. Harry's steadfast gaze assured you as you raised your right hand to be sworn in. This was it - time to confront your demons once and for all.

"In your own words, can you describe the sequence of events that led you to pursue this divorce and custody case against Mr. Harris?" the judge prompted in a neutral tone.

You took a fortifying breath and launched into your well-practiced testimony. Every sickening detail, from the escalating verbal and emotional abuse to Elliot's drunken rampages, poured out in an unstoppable torrent. In front of you, Ellie huddled against your mother's side, her little face pale. You never wanted her to listen to these horrors you had experienced, but her testimony was important for the case too. Plus, it was the hearing for her custody, so she had to be present.

Elliot's lawyer tried to shake you, pelting you with ruthless character attacks about being a negligent mother, a cheating wife, an alcoholic with anger issues. 

But, Harry had prepped you well. 

"Look him in the eye and don't let his tactics rattle you. He's trying to make you doubt yourself, but we both know your truth."

So you steeled yourself and stared Elliot down, refusing to be cowed any longer. The more you spoke, the more flustered and furious his lawyer became until he finally sputtered to a halt, realizing his tactics weren't landing.

When you finally stepped down, Harry's proud smile was all the reassurance you needed. The evidence was mounting, the cracks in Elliot's case becoming increasingly apparent. You could sense the momentum shifting in your favor.

The final twist came during Elliot's ex-buddy's testimony. His so-called "friend" strode in, flanked by guards, having been detained on an unrelated matter. The guy's sheer size and plethora of vivid tattoos made it instantly clear why Ellie had been so frightened.

Elliot kept shooting venomous glares at the hulking man, until the shocking revelation dropped - Elliot had hired this terrifying figure as hired muscle to muscle you into giving up Ellie during their confrontation at her school. He was going to take Ellie home with him, once he had threatened you when you came to pick her up.

Pandemonium erupted. Elliot was forcibly restrained as he launched himself towards his traitorous former ally, bellowing vile curses and threats, even spitting at him. The judge had to call a recess while order was restored, the courtroom buzzing with shocked murmurs.

When proceedings finally resumed, the flinty-eyed judge stared Elliot down as a broken, bitter man. Any veneer of upstanding family man had been irrevocably shattered, leaving only a twisted bully raging against consequences of his own making.

At long last, Judge Peterson took a fortifying breath and delivered her ruling. "In light of the preponderance of evidence pointing to ongoing domestic abuse, alcoholism, and reckless endangerment of a minor, I am awarding full legal and physical custody of the child to Mrs. Y/N Y/L/N . Mr. Elliot Harris will be granted supervised visitation rights upon completion of court-mandated therapy and rehabilitation, to be re-evaluated quarterly."

You sagged in your seat, all the tension fleeing in a rush of dizzying relief. It was over. You had won. Tears were welling up in your eyes, but you didn’t want to cry. Not right now.

Harry was beside you in an instant, strong arms enveloping you in a fierce hug. "You were incredible, darling," he murmured against your hair, steadying you while happy tears streamed down your cheeks. "You never gave up fighting for your little girl. I'm so damned proud of you."

His warm breath caressed your skin as you tilted your head back to gaze up at him, savoring the admiration and affection blazing in his expression. For weeks you had fought to ignore the deepening feelings simmering between you. There was a connection, an intimacy that went far beyond even close friends.

Now, caught in his tender embrace, everything suddenly felt so complicated. This remarkable man had strode into your life like a soothing balm, sheltering you and Ellie from the ugliness with his steadfast strength and kindness. He had faced down your darkest demons and emerged victorious, like a knight in shining armor.

Surely you couldn't be naive enough to believe he felt anything more for you than loyalty between friends and allies? And even if he did share the growing spark you felt, acting on it would only stir up more upheaval in the wake of this custody battle, wouldn't it?

You almost convinced yourself that Harry sensed your spiraling doubts at that moment. His bright green eyes dimmed ever so slightly, letting you tuck away whatever fragile intimacy had been blooming between you.

Instead, he simply rested his forehead against yours for a heartbeat, offering you a tender smile before releasing you from his arms. 

Right, back to being consummate professionals.

"Let's go get your little girl so we can celebrate properly, eh?" he murmured, clearing his throat. "I'll call for a car to take us back to mine. Pizza and a night in watching crappy telly. Think Ellie would like that?"

You had no place to live, and in a moment, he had given you a home and a promise–of keeping you and your daughter safe till you parted ways.

Parted ways.

You managed a shaky laugh, ignoring the dull ache in your heart as the moment passed. "She'd love it. Thank you, Harry...for everything."

So you followed him obediently towards the corridor where your mother was waiting with Ellie. For the time being, you would bask in your hard-won victory and focus on nothing but enjoying this reprieve. As for whatever was simmering between you and Harry...that would have to wait.

Because you couldn't afford more complications right now. Not when you were both still putting the shattered pieces of your respective lives back together. Not when the slightest miscalculation could unravel the fragile peace and security you had fought so hard for.

So you pushed away the nagging awareness of all the lingering glances, the heated charged moments when you gravitate towards one another without thought. The profound sense of being utterly seen and cherished for the first time in your life.

All of that would need to be firmly locked away for now, you decided as Harry swept Ellie up into his arms amid her delighted squeals. The way he blinked rapidly to hold back tears you pretended not to notice. The tender, protective way his free hand found the small of your back as he ushered you both out of the courthouse towards your waiting car.

He was fulfilling something he didn’t have to.

For this little while, you would dwell only on the joy. On reveling in your fresh start, free from the shackles of abuse and toxicity that had haunted you for so long. When the time was right to face your blossoming connection with this man who had become your steadfast champion, you would find the courage to lean into those feelings.

But first, you would savor this night with your daughter and the closest friend you now considered family. You would let Ellie's happy laughter soothe every last ache as you snuggled on Harry's plush sofa watching terrible rom-coms and eating a greasy pizza.

Tomorrow could bring what it may. Tonight, you were simply basking in your own rebirth alongside your two favorite people in the world.

The next few weeks passed in a cozy, domestic blur. True to his word, Harry insisted you and Ellie stay with him to decompress after the emotional turmoil of the custody battle. His spacious flat became your safe haven, a sanctuary where you could begin piecing your little family back together.

With Ellie happily ensconced in the guest room surrounded by plush toys and her favorite books, you found yourself settling into an easy routine with Harry. Mornings were spent enjoying elaborate breakfasts he seemed to delight in whipping up - blueberry pancakes drizzled with sweet lemon curd, thick-cut bacon, and frothy hot chocolates for your girl.

"She barely ate anything for months with all the stress," you admitted one morning, watching Ellie devour her third pancake with unbridled glee. "It's such a relief to see her appetite back."

Harry merely reached over to squeeze your hand, offering you that soul-soothing smile. "She's got her mum back now. And she knows she's finally safe."

You tried not to dwell too much on the way those words settled deep in your bones like a warm caress. How you lived for the casual touches, the reassuring embraces that always seemed to ground you so effortlessly. For the first time in forever, you felt truly seen in a way that transcended the ugliness of your past.

Evenings were spent watching musicals and Disney classics cuddled on the sofa, Ellie snuggled between you both. Her delighted giggles as Harry crooned along to the silliest songs in that rich baritone never failed to make your heart swell. Sometimes you would glance over to find him already watching you with an achingly soft expression, his gaze heated yet tender.

Those were the moments your breath would catch, the awareness of him washing over you with heady intensity before you quickly averted your stare. Falling for your knight in sharply-tailored armor would only lead to catastrophe, you constantly reminded yourself.   

Because Harry was planning to request a transfer out of the city once your divorce was finalized.

"Big changes are in order for me too, love," he confessed one evening after Ellie had dozed off between you, her beloved stuffed bunny clutched in her arms. "I've been feeling the need to shake things up for a while now, get out of the big city's toxic rat race. Go to a more quiet place."

You tried not to let your broken expression show, focusing instead on stroking Ellie's soft curls. "That makes sense. You've more than earned a fresh start after...well, everything."

Harry hummed in agreement, lazily tracing patterns on your knee with the pads of his fingertips - an idle gesture that nevertheless sent shivers down your spine and heat lancing through your core. 

It was a harmless habit you had gotten yourself, feeling safe with his touch on your body.

You would have to get rid of it soon too.

"Who knows, maybe I'll finally make good on that dream of opening a practice in some sleepy seaside town where the most vicious crimes are petty theft and parking violations," he teased, emerald eyes twinkling mischievously.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't quite banish your looming sense of loss. The thought of this man eventually exiting your life, leaving just another Harry-shaped hole...it was unfathomable after everything you'd been through together. But you would never ask him to derail his aspirations just to assuage your own growing fears of abandonment.

No, you loved him and–

Oh.

Oh shit.

You loved him.

And loving means knowing how to let go.

"Well wherever you end up, I hope a certain little moppet will be welcome to visit her favorite uncle from time to time," you replied, aiming for a lighter tone.

Harry's penetrating gaze flickered over your face, savoring every feature in a way that made you flush with self-consciousness. "Nothing would make me happier," he rasped, his voice thick with an undercurrent of emotion that sent your heart racing.

You cleared your throat and quickly glanced away, cursing your traitorous heart. Allowing yourself to indulge in the growing spark between you would only lead to more pain when he eventually left. It was better to savor these peaceful moments without becoming ensnared by the hope of anything more lasting.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," you said, forcing a smile. "I'm sure Ellie will be heartbroken when you inevitably move on to greener pastures."

Harry's expression faltered, a shadow of hurt flickering across his features before he schooled his face into a neutral mask. "You're right, of course," he murmured, shifting his gaze to Ellie's sleeping form. "I wouldn't want to upset the little one."

An awkward silence fell between you, the air thick with unspoken tension. You hated the way you could practically feel the walls going up around him, the fragile intimacy you'd shared fracturing under the weight of your own doubts and fears.

Desperate to recapture the easy camaraderie you'd found, you reached out and squeezed his hand. "Harry, I...I don't mean to push you away. It's just—" You sighed, struggling to find the right words. "This has all been so overwhelming, and I can't bear the thought of Ellie getting her heart broken when you inevitably leave.” you took a applause, before saying, “Like everyone else does”

And that shattered Harry’s heart.

His grip tightened around your fingers, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin. "I understand, love. Believe me, I don't want to hurt either of you. But I hope you know that no matter where I end up, you and Ellie will always have a place in my life."

You offered him a watery smile, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection for this incredible man. "Thank you, Harry. That means more to me than you know."

He returned your smile, the warmth in his gaze making your breath catch. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss him, to let yourself get lost in the comfort and security of his embrace.

But you couldn't. Not when the future was so uncertain, not when your wounds were still so fresh. So you settled for savoring the tender intimacy of the moment, committing every detail to memory.

So you smiled and changed the subject. Because you were the one who chose this path by pursuing divorce, setting into motion the dominos that would ultimately rob you of Harry's steadfast presence.  This day had always been coming.

Still, you couldn't regret finally summoning the courage to shed your shackles and start anew, no matter how bittersweet the cost. For the first time in her young life, Ellie could simply revel in being a normal little girl without the specter of her father's anger and demons looming.  You had given your daughter the truest gift of all - the freedom to grow up unchained by fear and toxicity.

Looking at Harry cuddling her sleeping form, his handsome face awash in tender adoration, you felt a sudden flare of bone-deep gratitude for this remarkable man despite the pain of his future absence. You would carry the strength and resilience he had shown you for the rest of your days. 

So you allowed yourself a fleeting moment of weakness, reaching over to interlace your fingers with his where they rested on Ellie's back. Harry froze at the contact, eyes snapping up to bore into yours with molten intensity. His sharp inhale was clearly audible in the stillness of the room.

But you simply angled your body to face him fully, committing every chiseled plane and nuance of his expression to memory - from those soulful evergreen irises to the dusting of freckles across his proud nose to those ridiculously lush lips you had definitely not imagined kissing more than once.

You didn't speak, though. Somehow you both instinctually understood that words would only taint the profound intimacy thrumming between you in that suspended heartbeat. 

Then you released his hand, the moment fracturing before your heart could betray you even further. Harry gulped harshly, his throat bobbing as he visibly steadied himself.  The air itself seemed to shiver with all the things you refused to acknowledge aloud.

This connection - this blissful yet transient pas de deux you had stumbled into with your dearest friend and savior - was too profound to be reduced to something as ephemeral as mere words. It simply was, and you would soak in every remaining second before you inevitably drifted apart.

Because people like Harry Styles didn't stick around forever, no matter how desperately you might wish it. He was a brilliant, vital force of nature destined for a grand future full opportunity. While you, well...you were just the broken divorcee still only beginning to rebuild your life from the ashes.  

So you would let him go with your blessing, just as he had given you the greatest gift imaginable - your precious Ellie's hand to cling to as you stepped out of the shadows and into the warmth at long last. As you inhaled the gentle citrus notes of his cologne that had become such a source of comfort, you swore to cherish every beautiful memory this extraordinary man had gifted you.

Then tomorrow would come, and the future would wash over you with its inevitable tides of change. But for tonight, you had this: your baby girl secure in Harry's loving embrace, oblivious to the bittersweet poignant permeating the air. The sense of belonging, even if it was only fleeting.

So you smiled and tucked yourself against Ellie's side to bask in their combined warmth, feeling more whole and cherished than you ever dared to dream. The outside world and all its tumult could wait until morning. Here and now in this fragile cocoon, you had finally rediscovered your sense of home.

The next few weeks passed in a cozy, domestic blur. Harry's spacious flat became your safe haven, a sanctuary where you could begin piecing your little family back together. Mornings were spent enjoying elaborate breakfasts he seemed to delight in whipping up, while evenings were spent watching musicals and Disney classics cuddled on the sofa.

And through it all, Harry had been your steadfast champion, your guiding light. Even if the future held the inevitability of his departure, you knew that the indelible mark he'd left on your life would continue to sustain you.

So as you drifted off to sleep, your head resting on Harry's shoulder, you allowed yourself to savor the fragile beauty of this moment. Tomorrow would come soon enough, with all its uncertainties and challenges. But for now, you were home.

In the days that followed, you found yourself clinging to those precious moments of stillness and contentment. The easy camaraderie you and Harry had built slowly began to mend, the awkwardness of your previous conversation fading into the background.

Ellie's joyful laughter and unbridled enthusiasm were a balm to your soul, and you reveled in watching her blossom under Harry's doting attention. He seemed to have an innate knack for making her feel safe, treasured – qualities you'd long feared your daughter would never experience.

As you observed the two of them together, you couldn't help but find yourself falling deeper under Harry's spell. The way he looked at Ellie, with such pure, unconditional love, made your heart swell with a yearning you dared not give voice to. And when his gaze would shift to you, the tenderness and raw adoration shining in those mesmerizing green eyes left you positively breathless.

Still, you resisted the urge to lean into that budding connection, reminding yourself of the inevitable heartbreak that would follow. Harry's plans to leave the city were a constant presence in the back of your mind, a relentless drumbeat that refused to be silenced.

But as the days turned into weeks, and your divorce was finalized without incident, you found yourself growing bolder. Little by little, you allowed the walls around your heart to crumble, letting Harry's presence seep into the cracks. His unwavering support, his fierce loyalty – it was a lifeline you clung to .

And when he would catch you watching him, that all-too-familiar heat blooming in the depths of his gaze, you didn't look away. Instead, you'd hold his stare, daring him to make the first move, to finally tear down the fragile barriers you'd both erected.

The simmering tension between you was palpable, a living, breathing thing that threatened to consume you both. You knew you were playing with fire, risking the precious friendship you'd forged in the crucible of your darkest moments. You couldn't resist Harry's warmth and devotion.

Harry reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. The simple gesture sent electricity crackling down your spine, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I can't stop thinking about you. About us."

Your heart pounded in your ears as you slowly opened your eyes, drowning in the vulnerability etched across his handsome features. "Harry..." you breathed, your fingers trembling as you covered his hand with your own.

"I know it's complicated, and that I'm planning to leave," he continued, his thumb tenderly caressing your cheek. "But I can't deny this any longer. The way I feel about you, it's...it's everything."

You found yourself nodding, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as the weight of his confession settled over you. "I feel it too, Harry. God, I've tried so hard to ignore it, but—"

He silenced you with a gentle press of his fingers against your lips, his gaze burning with an intensity that stole your breath away. "Then don't," he murmured, his face inching closer to yours. "Don't ignore it. Let me in, Y/N. Please."

The world seemed to slow to a crawl as you stared into the depths of his eyes, searching for any hint of doubt or hesitation. But all you found was a fierce, unwavering adoration that threatened to unravel you completely.

Slowly, reverently, you lifted a trembling hand to cup his jaw, marveling at the soft scratch of his stubble against your palm. 

"Well, then, I guess one man's trash is another man's treasure," you said, the words slipping out without a second thought. The smile faded from Harry's lips, his brow furrowing.

"Don't ever say that again." His voice was soft yet firm. "You are a treasure. You're my treasure. But you were never anything less than that, not to me."

Before you could respond, he leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss. All the unspoken feelings between you ignited, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. You melted into his embrace, your fingers tangling in his soft curls as you surrendered to the passion consuming you both.

His lips moved against yours in a way that had you melting into him. His touch was soft, almost as if trying not to break you.

When you finally parted, breathless and flushed, you found yourself drowning in the sheer adoration etched across his face. "Bloody hell, you're everything," he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. "I didn't mean to fall for you, but I can't imagine my life without you in it."

You chuckled weakly, your fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jaw. "I think it's a little late for that, Harry. I'm afraid you're stuck with me now."

His answering smile was dazzling, a glimpse of the boundless joy that had been lurking beneath the surface. "Good. That's exactly how I want it."

In that moment, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you and the sleeping child you both cherished. The future was still very much uncertain for you, but it seemed less uncertain when you knew you had Harry.

You knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy, not with Harry's departure coming. But as you curled up against him, Ellie's soft breaths ghosting across your skin, you felt a profound sense of peace wash over you.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

feedback | masterlist

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @me-undiscovered @tbsloneely @whoreonmondays @kathb59 @avalentina @kittenhere @speedywritingharrystylesjudge @mypolicemanharryyy @theendx888 @ladscarlett @daphnesutton @youcan-nolonger-run @prettythingsworld  @chesthairrry   @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs   @hisparentsgallerryy   @storyschanging  @selluequestrian   @islakp217 @swiftmendeshoran @princessaxoxo @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hermoinelove @chronicallybubbly @angeldavis777

[appendectomy]

the house/cuddy relationship is also so interesting because a big part of the essence of 'doom' that the writers give their relationship is also based in direct comparison to the not-doomed-ness of house/wilson. there are so many moments where it feels to me that the writers are grabbing me by the shoulders, shaking me and going 'look!!! look at them and compare them look at how different these two dynamics are'.

one of the most obvious examples of this is in 7x09 when house is trying to get out of hanging out with wilson and going to cuddy's birthday dinner at the same time. cuddy outright asks 'you have to choose one of us,' and house replies 'i choose wilson'. apart from making me giggle, these lines also serve the very obvious purpose of not just being about where house would prefer to spend a thursday evening. it's quite blatant foreshadowing about the fact that, at the end of everything, house always prefers to choose wilson and is more capable of being there for him than he is for anyone else, including romantic partners and especially including cuddy.

the next big example of this that struck me is in 7x15 when cuddy is in surgery. this is an almost word-for-word recreation of the scenario in 6x10 where wilson went into surgery. they both want house to be there, and house struggles to show up both times. we even get this wonderful visual parallel between the two, which is something i've noticed has been talked about a little by other people on here, and so is definitely something I imagine the writers thought about too. with 6x10:

and 7x15:

the key difference between these two situations is house being sober in one, and on drugs in the other. house can be there for wilson and emotionally support him while also being sober, but he cannot do the same for cuddy. this comparison i think is such a clear communication that not only is house's relationship with wilson easier for house to maintain than his relationship with cuddy, but that it is also better for him mentally. with wilson, there isn't an anxiety that he isn't good enough for him the way there is with cuddy, and this just fundamentally fosters a better environment for him as an addict.

this says a lot about house/wilson, but it also says a lot about house's approach to romance versus friendship in general. he places so much more importance on the emotional challenges of a romantic relationship than he does platonic. he spends the whole episode of 7x15 practically agonising over wether cuddy will be ok or not, whereas he spends most of 6x10 telling wilson he's an idiot. he seems to doom himself in romantic relationships by creating so much of his own anxiety: he worries about getting it right, being the man cuddy needs him to be, doing what a good partner should, and it causes him to be unable to actually perform any of these actions without the crutch of being high. this in turn underminines the genuineness of any attempt to be better that he makes in cuddy's eyes. i don't think any of the emotional demands cuddy makes of house are unreasonable at all, but because house is such an emotionally stunted and volatile person he can't approach the very normal expectations of a romantic relationship in any sort of healthy way. the only relationships he can maintain are unconventional ones that don't have these expectations, like his friendship with wilson.

the next example, and the one that is most likely a little bit of a reach, is also in 7x15, specifically in the few dream sequences cuddy has that feature wilson. in the first, she imagines house and wilson as rachel's adoptive fathers (which i've already written a little bit about here if you're interested). then she has another dream set in a black-and-white 50s sitcom where she is the breadwinner, house is the housewife, and wilson is the mailman/milkman (not completely sure which of these he is, but he's definitely one of them). in both of these situations, wilson is the proverbial 'other woman': he takes the place of house's domestic partner in one of the dreams, and in the other he's the mailman/milkman to house's housewife, which traditionally in media is a comedic character pairing that involves the housewife cheating on her working husband with the mailman/milkman. i doubt this symbolism is really that intentional, and i don't think that it's meant to imply any sort of genuine romantic coding between house and wilson, it's probably just a couple of early 2000s gay jokes. but if you critically look at these instances, you can begin to extrapolate a sense that in house's romantic relationships, wilson is always hovering in the background. wilson is always the proverbial 'other woman', someone who's relationship with house is just as important and very likely also easier to maintain for house, just as the inverse is true for wilson as established by testimony from his ex-wife bonnie. i mainly think this inclusion of wilson in these dreams and the deliberate role he plays just serves to remind the viewer that while house and cuddy's relationship is rocky and uncertain, house and wilson's is pretty much constant and inevitable.

the last comment i have on this is about the scene in 7x23 where house crashes his car into cuddy's home. i think you can pretty easily compare wilson and cuddy situationally in this scene: house is putting cuddy in immense danger (though not actually intending on hurting her), whereas in comparison he yells at wilson to get out of the car before he does it. to me, there's an obvious difference there - a deliberate effort to endanger a person vs a deliberate effort to remove a person from danger. and in both instances, house is intentionally causing the danger. it very strikingly reminded me of the scene in 3x07 where house tells wilson to get out of their hotel room before he does something that could incriminate wilson. he specifically tells wilson 'maybe i don't wanna push this til it breaks' in regard to their friendship. house is very cognizant of not pushing wilson away completey, not squandering their relationship once and for all with his dangerous behaviour. but with cuddy, he gets to a point where he actively burns the bridge. the difference to me is sad and clear: house is willing and able to maintain his relationship with wilson. he is not willing and able to maintain his relationship with cuddy. and by comparing the two, each dynamic becomes clearer.

[wangxianficrecs]

Rewind 2023 - Part II

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2023

Here is part two of our favourite stories published in 2023! Reminder that if you also want to give a shout-out to a story, submit an ask and we will share it in an upcoming post featuring Follower Recs and Proud Author Spotlights.

Part I

~*~

the dream of the fisherman's husband

by luckymarrow (@luckymarrow)

E, 5k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “Really? Are you fucking with me? Once for yes, twice for no.” Two taps. Wei Ying scrambles from his desk and over to the tank, presses his face right against the glass. “Was Wen Ning right?” he whispers. His breath fogs the glass. “Are you our new cephalopod overlords?” Once again, the little blue and white octopus taps twice against the glass. Wei Ying goggles. Then it taps a sequence against the glass. But Wei Ying has worked on enough expedition ships to know Morse code, or at least the most important code of all—SOS. This little octopus needs help.

~*~

New Perspective

by mrcformoso (@mrcformoso)

T, Series, 34k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary Part One: “Lan Zhan, let me go.” The last memory Lan Zhan has of Wei Ying was the soft, serene smile on his face as he fell to his death. It was, perhaps, what haunted him the most. When it came to the matters regarding Wei Ying, Lan Zhan was always too late. A character study looking into Lan Zhan’s character development between Wei Ying’s death and resurrection, and his struggles of changing in the wake of his newfound fatherhood.

~*~

The Art of Communication

by mrcformoso (@mrcformoso)

G, 4k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Zhan can only say so much before the words get caught in his throat. He has long learned how to use his words sparingly, how to build enough of a reputation to minimize the use of words, has learned to hide behind little grunts and pointed looks. In contrast, Wei Ying never seemed to run out of words, speaking often and quickly, whatever was on his mind, mumbling equations and theories and his own thoughts as if he had a word quota to meet and exceed on a daily basis. So the Gusu University students found it rightfully strange that the two were dating. Chapter 1: Outsiders POV Chapter 2: Lan Zhan POV Chapter 3: Wei Ying POV

~*~

❤️ Across the street to another life

by danegen (@danegen)

M, 99k, Wangxian | Kay's & Mojo's Rec

Summary: Wangji stays on the piano bench as they’re closing up. Wei Ying chews his lip, knowing what he’s going to do but horrified at himself. But what’s the alternative: kick the guy out and find him sleeping beside the dumpster in the morning? And that’s if the cops don’t take him in for vagrancy. “Wangji?” Wangji looks up. Please don’t be a serial killer. “So, we’re closing up for the night, but A-Yuan and I live upstairs. Do you want to join us for dinner?” Wangji blinks. His head bobs in what’s probably a yes. “Great!” Fuck. Or a ragged monosyllabic man wearing a collar shows up at Wei Ying's music store. Wei Ying and A-Yuan ask, is anyone going to adopt this guy? And then they don't wait for an answer.

~*~

💙 Concord

by Deastar (@youhideastar)

T, 41k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji hopes, somewhat frivolously, that his betrothed might find him an acceptable companion. Neither he nor Wei Wuxian are able to bear children, so there will be no need to share a marital bed; that should make it easier for the two of them to reach a natural, comfortable equilibrium. Two strings played in harmony: this is Lan Wangji’s quiet hope, as he arranges the Jingshi to accommodate a second inhabitant. Perhaps, he thinks, they might even become friends.

~*~

silk linked together

by theLoyalRoyalGuard

G, 6k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji runs a sanctuary for rescued bunnies. His life is quiet and routine. Until Mo Xuanyu needs a place to stay out of trouble. He doesn’t expect to end up rescuing him, too.

~*~

Making Mouths at Dragons

by athena_crikey

E, 10, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Ying takes a slow breath, then another. “Then you’d want… that? A baby? A kid?” Lan Zhan’s low rumble has a hint of dragon in it, a lick of thunder. For a moment Wei Ying can almost hear the rush of the tide in his ears, storms and seafoam. His mind is full of the glint of moonlight on scales, silver and rippling like silk. “With you? Yes.”

~*~

Behind the Scenes

by QueenXIV

E, 5k, NMJ/LWJ | Kay's Rec

Summary: Nie Mingjue felt dirty. Horrible. He had paid to see his best friend's didi fuck himself with a dildo. He had jerked off to it. He had liked it. He was fucked.

~*~

Playing Possum

by DizziDreams (@dizzi-dreams)

T, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji is woken in the night by the sound of animals fighting, and there is more to the opossum he rescues than there seems.

~*~

Once-body

by ByCandlelight

M, 10k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Years after he was disowned by the Jiangs, Wei Ying lives a quiet life working at a funeral home. Then he reencounters his former high school classmate Lan Zhan, who is planning his father’s cremation. Wei Ying won’t pass up the chance to get closer to his former crush, but first he has to hide all the brains in his freezer.

~*~

Lessons in Belonging

by Nyatci (@nyatci)

M, 12, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Zhan looks back at various moments during the years and thinks about the emotional wounds caused by Wei Ying’s adoptive family. Or alternatively: 5 times Lan Zhan worried about Wei Ying and 1 time he realized he didn’t have to worry anymore.

~*~

Jin Ling and Demonic Cultivation

by ImNobody122 (@colorsunlikeanythingseen)

Not rated, 8k, Jin Ling | Kay's Rec

Summary: Mo Xuanyu was not the first demonic cultivator Jin Ling had to rescue from his uncle's hands.

~*~

mother of mothers

by SpeedingCheetah

T, 11k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary:There was a girl in Gusu, who played the flute and sung songs to the fish in the rivers as townspeople let her sit on their boats; stirring away and humming. There was a girl who smiled, who had a blood red ribbon and blood red eyes. The girl was a boy who was not alive. A ghost who stayed in the city because his mother made him promise. He seemed happy enough anyway, coming to the docks, coming to the paths. He bought apples, he spoke Gusu’s dialect in a rustic tongue that was many, many years out of date—ancient, prosperous. Only a few elders understood the clicking accent the way Wuxian spoke it. He was Lan Wangji’s sole companion. He was also the being who had been cursed many years ago to never wake up, and never live. Lan Wangji wished to help fix that. (or: cangse sanren’s child is a ghost of nature, and cursed to sleep forever. a boy still makes friends with the ghost anyway.)

~*~

exit, pursued by fierce corpse

by hauntedotamatone (@hauntotamatone)

Not rated, 4k, WWX & WN | Kay's Rec

Summary: “The Jin clan of Lanling is rich beyond rich,” The second boy whispers, or rather, attempts to whisper. “If we bring them the head of the Yiling Laozu, they’ll have no choice but to reward us!” It’s quite a stupid endeavor, especially for three, unarmed, young masters whose knowledge of combat and heroism likely comes from playhouses alone. - “Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning whispers, barely louder than the sound of a person breathing and all the more striking when it comes from one who does not. His face is still, the undisturbed waters of a pond, but there is something in his eyes that reminds him of brightness, the shine of a dragonfly skimming the water. - alternatively; wen qionglin, the method actor.

~*~

If I had to keep being separated from you like this (I'd rather die)

by katje

E, 30k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “So, you’re here to become my blood thrall, are you?” Mr. Wei finally turned, and Lan Wangji had to fight to swallow the gasp that tried to escape his throat. He was beautiful. His long, pitch-black hair was pulled into a ponytail that flowed in smooth waves over his shoulder, and he was clad in a red dress shirt that was buttoned only halfway up his chest, exposing his sharp collar bones and a hint of the smooth skin of his torso. He was pale - too pale. And he had the most striking grey eyes Lan Wangji had ever seen. Eyes that immediately betrayed him as a nonhuman. As a cold, powerful, immortal vampire that Lan Wangji was about to sell himself to. OR Lan Wangji enters into a contract to become Wei Wuxian's blood thrall to save his uncle, and finds more than a heartless vampire at the end of the deal.

~*~

fracture fix

by phosphorous

G, 5k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: What he did not say: I don’t want to be anywhere in this world where you aren’t. I want to know you inside out. I want to know you forever. I want you to know me inside out and I want you to know me forever too. I am a burden. But I am yours. I want to be yours, for as long as you will have me. “I love you, Lan Zhan,” he had said instead. It had ebbed and flowed in the space over their heads like tides in a river. Eventually, it had settled. Eventually, it had stayed.

~*~

What Dreams May Come

by Admiranda (@ladypfenix)

G, 5k, Ouyang Zichen | Kay's Rec

Summary: Qiu Shiyu is a pragmatic young woman, she knows that the marriage her father wants to arrange will be more for his benefit than hers. But even so, she cannot help hoping that her prospective husband to be just might be someone who can match her romantic side too.

~*~

Mask

by BurningTea (@humanformdragon)

M, 30k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: The cultivation world knows that Wei Wuxian is dead. It knows that the Yiling Patriarch has appeared, dangerous and powerful enough for Wen Ruohan to offer an alliance. And a prize. The Wen Sect is happy to agree when the Yiling Patriarch demands one of their hostages, Lan Wangji.

~*~

Letters along a River

by Ilona22

M, 19k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: They met at the stairs leading to the Cloud Recesses and when days spent together lead to a tentative friendship, letters lead to more. Meanwhile, trouble grows, quietly creeping along in the realms of politics and the supernatural.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[trungles]

Processing Process, and More Processing

I made this post free and publicly readable on Patreon, but I'm reposting the whole thing right here too because, well, it's a free post, and I don't want to make you click away from your dashboard if you don't need to. But also if you want to support my work, here's the link to the post.

It's a little bit about cartooning, a little bit about drawing, and then it turns into a eulogy for a chicken.

I wrote “process” more than once, and now the word looks funny and is beginning to lose its meaning to me.

This post is about a few things, and it’s a little bit on the sad end of things. Nothing dire! No worries. There’s just a little mention of death, just as a heads up.

Before we get to that, though, I’ve been doing some work and had some thoughts.

I’m often asked about how I draw the noodle hair on my characters, and the answer is typically that I draw each and every line with my hand. But there are considerations of movement and volume that go into it beyond its texturally decorative purposes. I love being able to convey shape and motion with it. It’s less evident, I think, in my illustration work, but I think it’s much more obvious when I do sequential work. In the above image, you can see me working out a sequence of Angelica having a series of thoughts. Her head sort of moves, and her eyes follow. You can see I’d planned out the general shape of the hair and how I’d like it to move.

I wound up moving the drawings a little bit so that the readers eyes will actually follow the character’s eyes as it moves gently rightward on the page. The hair is there to accentuate the movement, like so:

It’s a consideration I employ in all my drawings, but especially when I’m drawing hair and fabric. I don’t use a lot of action lines, so this becomes an important way to give the reader the information that someone is moving through a space. Resistance, gravity, and motion are all things I have to keep in the back of my head when I’m doing these little drawings. I think the planning actually takes more time than the inking, which can happen pretty quickly once I map it all out.

In other news, I’m starting to take my extracurricular artistic development a little more seriously in the silliest way possible.

You wouldn’t know it, but I studied painting college—a medium I switched to after the printmaking professor and head of the Art Department at the time told me I probably shouldn’t be an artist (he gave me a hard candy for my trouble). I recently bought a bunch of little dolls, dressed them up, and am returning to my painting roots. It feels really nice to work in big blobs of color instead of lines. It’s an exercise I came up with in response to a common lament from art students.

One of the more aggravating generational tensions described to me by art school students is when professors describe a student’s portfolio as “too anime” without much explanation. I know what the professor means. They’re trying to get at how referencing your favorite anime or cartoons means that your style becomes a simulacrum, an imperfect copy of a copy, and you never learn to develop your own sense of judgment about where a line or a shape needs to go. And we can tell. It’s a way of working that is perfectly fine for cartooning because cartooning is closer to hand-writing than it is to drawing. I always turn to Charles Schulz’s work for an example. Those figures aren’t literally depicting children—with their little chessboard-pawn proportions and bread-loaf feet—but we read them as endearing children because we’ve come to a consensus between us, the readers, and Charles Schulz, the author, that those shapes mean those things. There are no whiskers or paws in the shape of the word “CAT” but you look at those three letters together, and you know the thing to which it refers. That’s an aspect of cartooning, too. Of course, what elevates it from mere writing is, in part, due to the fact that those little figures do not lose their meaning the more you depict them.

To really draw well, though, you have to do those fundamentals. You have to draw from life. There’s no way around it. It helps you develop a stronger sense of where you like to lay down your lines and shapes, no matter how stylized you like to work. It grows your judgment, and every artist’s best tool is their own well-honed sense of artistic discernment about their own work.

But that doesn’t mean you have to surrender the stuff you like or the things that inspire you to make art! I tell students that if they want to hold fast to their anime style AND hone their fundamentals to develop their eye as an artist, they should buy little figurines and toys of their favorite characters, prop those up against a light source, and draw them as still life objects. Like, yes, do the vases and the figure drawings and all those, I still think those are important. But if this is what you need to keep you interested in drawing from life, having some toys around is a great way to do it! Also, bless those sculptors and toy designers. They’re the best.

I think there’s something to be said about remembering to imagine the physicality of the things we draw, in all its dimensions and in the way it catches the light or casts a shadow. It helps sentimentalize things, too. Makes them feel more real, even emotionally.

Edwina died on Tuesday night, after a few final snuggles, surrounded by her favorite treats. She was about five years old, which is old for a chicken, and she had a very comfortable life. We buried her this morning. She was a good hen, J’s personal favorite.

It really feels like the end of an era. She was the last surviving member of our very first flock. After the other hens died, she really seemed to prefer the company of people over other hens. She is survived by Snooki and Nelly, our two other young birds who get along quite well together, actually.

A baby chick costs between three and five American dollars, typically. An egg-laying hen could be between twenty and fifty bucks, depending on the breed. There are roughly 26 billion chickens living in the world today, about 518 million of them here in the United States. They come pretty cheap. And a part of me was moved to cynicism, entertaining the thought that it might be strange to feel sadly over a little animal that, at most, might be roughly equivalent to the price of a fancy lunch and a coffee.

I watched the 1974 musical version of The Little Prince recently, and I remember it mostly because Bob Fosse was in it and scared the crap out of me as a kid—he played the snake that would take the Little Prince back into the sky when his body gets too heavy to take with him. Gene Wilder plays the Fox whom the Little Prince befriends and tames among a garden of roses. The Fox explains that he is like any other fox in the world, but he is changed—made special and particular to the Little Prince—with time, effort, and patience. So, too, is the Prince’s little flower special to him. Out of all the flowers in the universe, she was the one he watered and protected under a little glass jar. And that’s enough.

I knew my little hen would not live that long. It could be very easy to take a broad view of the life expectancy of a hen and distance myself from it by virtue of its mortality and its commonness. People who raise livestock do it all the time. But I also think it’s wonderful that we should all be capable of loving very small, very brief little things. Edwina is not, to my mind, the rough equivalent of a fancy lunch and a coffee. She was our little hen. For her whole life, she was ours. And I’m so happy she was here.

[valkyriexo]

Invasion of Privacy | Ep. 5 -Draw me like one of your French girls

ᑉ³SYNOPSIS; In the dazzling world of fame, you have it all—a beautiful home, devoted fans, and Chan, the love of your life. But when cryptic messages start arriving, the line between adoration and obsession blurs. With each note, you feel increasingly unsafe. Now, you're on a dangerous journey to uncover the truth before it's too late.

ᑉ³PAIRING; Chan x Idol! reader. Ft. Stray Kids

ᑉ³GENRE; Smau, FF , Angst, Hurt, Comfort, mystery

ᑉ³GENERAL WARNINGS ;Violence, Sasaeng (Stalker). Mentions of a knife, mentions of blood, Home invasion, cursing, Kissing, Pain, death, Implied female reader, Certain episodes may be Suggestive MDNI ᑉ³EPISODE WARNINGS;  Violence, Injuries, Blood, Pain, unconsciousness,

EPISODE WORD COUNT; 7.2K

AUTHOR'S NOTE ; a little Longer of a Chapter..

If you enjoyed this episode, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Whether it's through comments, reblogs, or sending an ask, your feedback means the world to me. Remember, none of this is real. It is a story. It is fiction. You can choose not to read it if it will make you uncomfortable.

Master Post | Teaser | Suspect Cards

STOP. THIS EPISODE CONTAINS THE ANSWERS TO THE GAME. IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO PLAY BEFORE CONTINUING CLICK HERE.

The first puzzle appeared on the screen, and you, Chan, and Seungmin leaned in closer, each trying to get a better look.

"Cross out six letters and you'll find a word that we should know, This must be done in order." Chan read aloud.

You furrowed your brow, your gaze fixed on the tangled mess of letters displayed before you. With a thoughtful expression, you began to mull over the puzzle's challenge. "Let's see... if we remove six letters, what word could it form?"

"Nothing? There's no combination of words just by taking out six," Chan remarked, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone.

Seungmin nodded, his gaze still on the screen. "They wouldn't have specified 'SIX' spelled out like that. If they meant the number, they would've just written the number 6. Right?"

You pondered the arrangement of letters. "What if the instruction 'six letters' is a hint itself?" you proposed.

Seungmin's eyes lit up in recognition, his expression mirroring yours. "That's it! If we take out the letters 's', 'i', 'x', 'l', 'e', 't', 't', 'e', 'r', 's', we're left with........'important'," he exclaimed, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.

Excitedly, you double-checked his deductions, your eyes scanning the letters on the screen once more. When you found that Seungmin was indeed correct, you wasted no time in entering "important" into the text box. With a satisfying flash of green, the puzzle was solved.

"Great catch, Minnie," you praised.

The next puzzle appeared on the screen. it seemed to be a series of numbers: 0,3,4,5,8. 

You furrowed your brow, trying to make sense of the sequence, but before you could even start, Chan spoke up confidently, "This one's easy. It's a simple code."

You looked at him, intrigued. Chan's mind raced as he analyzed the clues. "4 is on 5's right, but not directly next to it, so that means 4 can't be the last digit, and 5 can't be the first."

Seungmin and you nodded, following his train of thought.

"Also, 0 and 5 keep a maximum distance," Chan continued, his eyes scanning the screen. "So, they're likely at the ends of the code."

"The 3 is between the two numbers that usually follow it, which means its in between 4 and 5." you added, trying to piece together the sequence. Chan's brows furrowed in concentration. "And the two digits on the right add up to the same number as the two digits on the left."

With practiced precision, Chan arranged the digits according to the given criteria. "The code is 53480," he declared confidently.

With a few taps on the keyboard, Chan quickly deciphered the code. "53480 translates to 'clues'," he announced, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

You blinked in surprise, impressed by Chan's quick thinking. "That was amazing! How did you figure it out so fast?"

Chan shrugged modestly. "Just a knack for puzzles, I guess.... Let's enter 'clues' and see what happens."

Following Chan's lead, you entered "clues" into the text box, and sure enough, the screen flashed green, indicating that you had successfully cracked the code.

"Nice job, Chan!" Seungmin exclaimed, patting him on the back.

Chan's chest puffed out slightly, a hint of pride evident in his demeanor. He shot you a sideways glance, a playful twinkle in his eye. Unable to resist, you leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Chan's cheeks flushed bright red, a mixture of surprise and delight spreading across his face.

The next puzzle appeared on the screen.

It wasn't a series of numbers or a cryptic code, but rather a poetic verse. You furrowed your brow, trying to make sense of the words.

"It seems like some sort of riddle or poem," you mused aloud.

Chan and Seungmin leaned in closer, reading the verse carefully. "But what does it mean?" Seungmin wondered.

"It feels like there's a hidden message here," Chan observed, his eyes scanning the lines intently.

You nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of frustration at the puzzle's ambiguity. "Let's break it down. Maybe there's a clue hidden within it."

Together, you dissected the verse, searching for patterns or hidden meanings. But despite your efforts, the true significance of the poem remained a mystery.

"We're missing something," you sighed, feeling a twinge of disappointment. With each passing moment, the answer seemed to slip further from your grasp.

"Wait a minute..." You glanced back at the screen, your eyes scanning the verse once more.

And then, it clicked.

"It's an acrostic," you exclaimed, excitement bubbling up inside you. "The first letter of each line spells out a word!"

Chan and Seungmin looked at you, puzzled at first, but then their eyes widened in understanding.

"H-I-D-E-S," Seungmin spelled out, realization dawning on his face.

"Exactly," you confirmed. "The answer is 'hides.'"

With a sense of accomplishment, you entered "hides" into the text box, and the screen flashed green, confirming your correct solution.

As the final puzzle materialized on the screen, the room fell into a hushed silence. The string of seemingly random letters stared back at you, taunting in its indecipherability.

"Looks.... like we have another code to crack," Chan remarked, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

You nodded, your mind already racing to decipher the hidden message within the jumble of letters.

"Bnmfqzstzshnmr..." you murmured, your lips moving silently as you attempted to decode the message. You paused, then couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, that's certainly a word… in some alien language, perhaps."

But despite your best efforts, the letters seemed to resist your attempts to unlock their meaning, the message remaining stubbornly cryptic.

"This is harder than I thought," Chan admitted, frustration creeping into his voice. 

You nodded in agreement, feeling a pang of disappointment. "Let's take a step back and look at it again. There must be a clue we're missing."

Seungmin sighed loudly and then quipped, "You know, if we had a Scrabble board handy, I bet we could score some serious points with this."

For what felt like an eternity, you and your friends wrestled with the puzzle, trying different approaches and strategies to crack its code. But each attempt seemed to lead to dead ends, leaving you no closer to unraveling its mystery.

Chan leaned in closer, his expression thoughtful. "There has to be a way to form words from this," he mused, his mind already working on potential combinations.

Seungmin chimed in, "Yeah but we shuffled the letters around and tried different combinations, and nothing makes sense."

But Chan shook his head, a spark of insight in his eyes. "What if we're approaching this the wrong way? Maybe we're not supposed to rearrange the letters, but instead, they mean something else altogether."

His suggestion gave you pause, prompting you to reconsider your approach to the puzzle. As you sat hunched over the puzzle, your fingers absentmindedly traced the delicate patterns of the bracelet wrapped around your wrist.

The bracelet adorning your wrist was an intricate design a mesmerizing tapestry of silver and sapphire. Delicate silver links intertwined with precision, forming a lattice-like pattern that shimmered in the soft glow of ambient light. At the center of each link nestled a small sapphire, its deep blue hue reminiscent of the ocean at twilight.

As the minutes ticked by, the tension in the room grew.

"Wait a minute," you exclaimed, a memory sparking in your head.

"Fetch!"

"I know I'm a puppy but I don't really feel like running right now." seungmin whined taking a sip of water from a glass.

"No. Not you Seungmin.... Fetch." you said again.

Chan looked at you quizzically. "All these letters translate to the word 'fetch'?"

"No. No. Fetch. The show," you replied.

"The kids show?"

"Yes."

Chan and Seungmin looked at you, their eyebrows raised in disbelief at the unexpected reference. It was as if you had suddenly suggested decoding the message using a recipe for chocolate cake.

"What?" Seungmin said incredulously. "How does a kids' show have anything to do with cracking codes?"

" Well there was this spy episode where they talked about how spies would communicate with each other."

Chan and Seungmin looked at you, intrigued by the sudden recollection.

"They would encode their messages using a specific key or pattern, so that only other spies code read it. Both sides would have the key to the code," you continued, the pieces slowly falling into place in your mind.

It was as if a light bulb had gone off in their heads, illuminating a path forward in the puzzle.

"A cipher" Seungmin said.

As the wheels of your mind spun in search of a solution, Seungmin's eyes widened. "Wait a moment," he said, reaching for his phone. With a few swift taps, he brought up an image of a cipher wheel on the screen.

"Look at this," he exclaimed, displaying the intricate design of the wheel to the group. "If we shift each letter by one place according to the wheel, it might reveal the true message."

Hope ignited within you as you examined the image, the simplicity of the concept striking you as a potential breakthrough. "That's perfect," you said. "Let's give it a try."

With Seungmin's phone serving as a guide, you and your friends set to work, shifting each letter forward in the alphabet. As you made the adjustments, the seemingly random string of letters began to take on new meaning.

With the screen now displaying the deciphered message, excitement filled the room as you all read the words:

"Congratulations! If you can read this, you have figured out that it is a cipher! Aren't you smart. The word is Member.'"

A collective sigh of relief and accomplishment swept through the group.

Chan eagerly stepped forward, confidently entering the password "Member" into the screen.

With bated breath, you awaited the response. And to your joy, the screen flashed green, confirming the correctness of your input. Excitement filled the room as you all realized that you had successfully cracked the code.

"We did it!" Chan exclaimed, a broad smile stretching across his face.

Seungmin chuckled, shaking his head in amazement. "I can't believe we actually cracked it."

But then, a new prompt appeared on the screen: "To find the Password, take all the words and put them in the correct order."

You exchanged puzzled glances with your friends. Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you recalled each puzzle and the words associated with them: "important," "clues," "hides," and "Member."

With a mix of anticipation and caution, you entered the final code:

"Member hides important clues."

Anticipation hung thick in the air as you awaited the screen's response. Then, with a satisfying beep, the screen flashed green, indicating success.

The screen flickered for a moment, and then a new page loaded, revealing a chilling image accompanied by an address.

The image sent a shiver down your spine, its eerie composition and unsettling ambiance heightening your sense of unease. It depicted a dimly lit room, and in the center, a lone figure stood, their face obscured by darkness.

As you and your friends exchanged uneasy glances, the words below the image caught your attention.

"Come find me."

Beneath the message was an address, standing out against the ominous backdrop of the website. It beckoned you, and sent a chill down your spine.

What awaited you at the address?

Who had sent the messages, and why?

With your heart pounding in your chest, you knew that the journey was far from over. The address was a new clue, a new mystery waiting to be unraveled. And with determination burning within you, you knew that you had no choice but to heed the call and confront whatever awaited you at the designated location.

As the weight of the situation settled in, a tense silence enveloped the room. The address on the screen seemed to pulsate with a silent urgency.

You quickly pulled out your phone, fingers trembling as you typed the address into the search engine. The results were chilling—nothing but a desolate warehouse located on the outskirts of town, its exterior shrouded in darkness.

"Are we… are we actually going to go to that address?" you finally voiced the question that echoed in the minds of all three of you.

Chan's expression darkened with concern. "Absolutely not. This is not safe," he asserted firmly, his voice laced with urgency.

But despite his warning, a sense of determination welled up within you. The need to confront the source of the messages, to uncover the truth that had eluded you for so long, burned within your chest.

"I have to go," you declared, your voice resolute as you met Chan's gaze head-on. "I need to know who's behind this, and why they've been sending these messages."

Seungmin nodded in understanding, his expression mirroring your resolve. "You can't go alone," he stated firmly, his eyes meeting yours. "If your going, I'll go with you."

Chan's features hardened, his concern palpable. "No, absolutely not," he repeated, his voice stern. "I won't let you put yourselves in danger."

As Chan's insistence rang through the room, you felt a surge of frustration mingling with your determination. His concern was understandable, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were on the brink of uncovering something significant.

"Chan, I appreciate your concern, I really do," you began, your voice steady but with urgency. "But we can't just ignore this. We need to follow this lead, find out what's going on."

Chan's jaw tightened, his gaze unwavering. "I understand that you want answers, but this is too risky. We don't know what we're walking into," he argued.

"But we won't find out unless we go," Seungmin interjected. "And Y/N's right. We can't just sit back and let this mystery go unsolved."

The tension in the room escalated as Chan's frustration became palpable. His brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched as he struggled to contain his rising anger.

"Seungmin, this is not up for debate," Chan snapped, his tone sharp with frustration. "I said no, and no means no."

But you couldn't let his resolve deter you from your mission. The need to unravel the mystery gnawed at you, driving you forward despite the risks.

"Chan, please," you pleaded, your voice soft but insistent. "I understand your concerns, but we can't turn back now. We have to see this through."

Seungmin nodded in agreement, his expression unwavering. "We'll be careful, Chan. But we have to do this."

"We're not doing this," Chan declared firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You'd put yourselves in danger."

"But Chan, I'm already in danger," you countered. "Ignoring this won't make it go away."

For a moment, Chan's gaze softened, his features betraying a flicker of uncertainty. But then, with a heavy sigh, he shook his head, his resolve hardening once more.

"I can't let you do this," he stated firmly, his voice tinged with resignation. "I won't."

With a heavy sigh, Chan's frustration reached its peak. Without a word, he strode over to the computer, his movements tense and purposeful. With a swift motion, he slammed the laptop shut, cutting off the ominous glow of the screen.

With frustration boiling within you, you couldn't contain the anger that surged to the surface.

"Chan, you don't get it!" you exclaimed, your voice laced with agitation. "I'm tired of sitting back and waiting for things to happen. I need answers, and I'm not going to just let this slide."

But Chan remained unmoved, his expression stubborn and unyielding. "I understand that you're scared," he responded, his voice strained with frustration. "But rushing into this blindly is not the answer!"

"I've had enough of waiting and planning," you declared, your voice trembling with righteous anger. "I'm done playing it safe while someone out there is toying with me." His words only fueled your anger, igniting a fire within you that refused to be extinguished.

"I'm not asking for your permission," you continued sharply. "I'm going, with or without your support."

With resolve burning fiercely within you, you stormed away from Chan, determined to take matters into your own hands.

As you made your way to your room, frustration and determination mingled within you, fighting for dominance. With trembling fingers, you pulled out your phone and hastily composed a message to your bodyguard. Anger simmered beneath the surface, threatening to spill over as you fought back tears of frustration.

You told him to meet you at the house ASAP.

You hit send before second-guessing yourself, the urgency of the situation propelling you forward. As you waited for his response, the minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity, each passing second amplifying the tension that hung heavy in the air.

Finally, a notification chimed on your phone, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you read his response. "On my way," it read, accompanied by a reassuring emoji.

You hastily gathered the essentials: a flashlight, water, an extra phone battery pack, and anything else you thought might come in handy.

You hesitated, torn between your determination to move forward and the lingering sense of guilt at leaving Chan behind. But as he entered the room, you knew that you couldn't leave without at least attempting to persuade him to join you.

"Chan, I'm going whether you come with me or not," you stated firmly, your voice steady. "But I'd feel better knowing you're by my side."

Chan's gaze softened, his features etched with worry. "Y/N, this is dangerous," he protested, his voice pleading. "I can't let you go alone."

You took a step forward, closing the distance between you, and placed a hand on his arm. "Then don't," you urged, your voice gentle yet determined. "Come with me."

As Chan's hesitation lingered, his eyes searched yours for reassurance amidst the tense atmosphere of the room. You held your breath, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air, hoping fervently that he would agree to accompany you.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Chan nodded, his decision apparent in the reluctant tilt of his head. "Alright," he conceded, his voice carrying the weight of his reluctance. "But on one condition."

Your heart skipped a beat, anticipation coiling within you as you waited for him to speak.

"You stay by my side at all times. If I can't touch you, you're too far," Chan insisted. His hand reached out, gently grasping yours. "If things get too dangerous, we turn back. I'm not leaving there without you in one piece. You hear me?"

You nod, unable to form any words.

"Y/n.. If anything happens to you..." His words faltered, the weight of his love filling the air. It was as if every syllable carried the weight of his fears, his heart laid bare before you.

His voice trembled as he fought to express the depth of his feelings. He paused, his gaze locking with yours, his eyes filled with an intensity that took your breath away. "I need you to understand, Y/N," he continued, "I love you more than anything in this world. I cant lose you.... Please."

With a solemn nod, you conveyed your understanding and acceptance of his words, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. "I love you too, Chan," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath but carrying the weight of your sincerity.

Without a word, he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours.

In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his lips against yours.

Just then, the sound of footsteps approaching broke the spell, and you turned to see your bodyguard leaning in the doorway.

Adam's muscular frame was outlined by the soft glow of the hallway lights. He wore a fitted black suit, the fabric stretched taut over his powerful physique, thanks to years of training and discipline. Despite the seriousness of the situation, you saw reassurance in his eyes, a silent promise to protect you with every ounce of his strength.

Adam, spoke, his deep voice resonated with a calm authority.

"Sorry to interrupt. Everything okay?" he inquired, as he took in the scene before him.

You and Chan exchanged a brief glance.

"We're heading out," you replied, your voice steady. "There's something we need to investigate."

Adam nodded, his expression serious but unchanging. "I'll be right behind you," he stated firmly, his commitment to your safety evident in every word.

As you turned to leave, you noticed Seungmin waiting nervously nearby.

"Seungmin, are you sure you want to come with us?" you asked. He nodded firmly, his eyes meeting yours.

With a grateful smile, you nodded in acknowledgment of his loyalty.

As the group prepared and gathered by the doorway, you filled in Adam on the details of what had happened.

"We need to consider who else we can trust," Adam suggested, his voice full of concern.

"I know it can't be Jeongin. He was with me when we first encountered the stalker an-"

Just then, there was a knock at the door, interrupting your conversation. You exchanged wary glances with the boys, none of you expecting any visitors at this late hour.

Felix stood on the doorstep, his brow furrowed in confusion as he took in the four faces staring back at him. "Did I leave my Switch here...." he asked, his voice trailing off. The dim light from the hallway cast shadows across his features, accentuating the lines of concern etched into his expression.

Felix's confusion deepened as he surveyed the group, dressed in dark clothing. His eyes darted from one person to another, searching for an explanation to the unexpected sight before him.

"Where are you all going?" he asked, his voice tinged with surprise and apprehension. His gaze lingered, silently pleading for an answer. You exchanged a quick glance with Chan and Seungmin, unsure of how much to reveal to Felix. 

But before you could respond, Felix spoke, his expression turned serious. "Look, I don't know what's going on, but it's clear that something's not right," he stated, his voice firm but compassionate. "And whatever it is, I want to help."

His words caught you off guard. You knew that bringing Felix along would add an extra layer of risk to your already risky mission.

"It's okay, Felix. We'll be back soon," you say, trying to navigate past him, but he remains unmoved, his gaze fixed on the group with determination.

"Uh, it's not really a trip to the store, Felix," you began again cautiously, trying to find the right words without revealing too much.

Felix's brow furrowed in confusion, his expression betraying his growing curiosity. "Then where are you guys going?" he pressed. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, an impatient energy radiating from him.

Chan hesitated, clearly grappling with how much to disclose. "It's... it's a bit complicated," he replied vaguely, his words failing to mask the unease in his voice.

But Felix wasn't about to let it go. "Complicated how?" he persisted, taking a step closer to the group, his curiosity piqued.

You realized that avoiding Felix's questions would only make things more suspicious.

"Felix, it's not something we can really explain right now," you finally admitted reluctantly. "But trust us, it's not something you want to get involved in."

But Felix remained resolute. "I don't care," he asserted firmly. " I'm going."

You exchanged a helpless glance with Chan and Seungmin, realizing that Felix was determined to accompany you, regardless of the risks involved. With a heavy sigh, you nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Fine, but stay close," you insisted. "And follow our lead."

Felix nodded eagerly, his expression filled with determination. "Got it," he replied, his voice brimming with conviction. "Let's go."

With Felix now added to the group, you all piled into the car. Felix sat in the backseat, his bright yellow shirt standing out like a light against the darkness of the night.

"You're too bright," you remarked, handing him a black hoodie from the backseat. "We don't want to draw unnecessary attention."

Felix nodded in understanding, slipping on the hoodie . As he zipped it up, his expression mirrored yours, a reflection of the seriousness of the task ahead.

With one last glance exchanged between you and your friends, the car pulled out of the driveway. The road stretched out before you, winding its way through the darkness like a path into the heart of the mystery that awaited you at the address you'd been given.

As the car came to a stop in front of the warehouse, a sense of apprehension settled over the group. The imposing structure loomed before you, its darkened windows and looming shadows creating an eerie atmosphere. The gravel crunched under the tires as the engine cut out, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

Felix, ever the inquisitive one, couldn't seem to contain his curiosity. "So, what exactly are we doing here?" he asked, his voice filled with what sounded like excitement and fear.

The group, ignoring his question, stepped out of the car. The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they shut the doors with a bang.

Felix, sensing the gravity of the situation, followed suit, his curiosity still burning brightly despite the lack of response to his questions. With a determined stride, he joined the others, his gaze fixed on the structure before you. Unable to contain his curiosity, he piped up again, "Guys, seriously, what's going on? Why are we here?"

Chan shot him a withering look, his patience wearing thin. "Can you please just shut up for a minute?" he snapped, the tension of the situation beginning to take its toll.

Felix recoiled slightly, stung by the harshness of Chan's words. 

"We need to figure out how to get in," you interjected, redirecting the conversation away from confrontation. "Let's focus on that for now."

After a moment of scanning the building, its weathered exterior hinted at years of neglect, with broken windows and faded paint, Seungmin spotted a side door slightly ajar. "Over there," he whispered, gesturing towards the entrance.

"Let's go," you said, your voice low but determined. Chan stayed close, his presence reassuring you in the darkness. You felt the weight of his hand on your back, a silent gesture of protection. The rusted hinges creaked softly as Adam opened the door, as if protesting the intrusion.

"Stay close," Chan murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. With cautious steps, you all slipped inside, the darkness of the warehouse enveloping you.

The interior was dimly lit, the faint glow of distant lights casting long shadows across the floor. You moved forward slowly, your senses on high alert as you navigated the labyrinth corridors of the abandoned building.

As you ventured further into the warehouse, the darkness seemed to press in around you, suffocating in its intensity. But just as the shadows threatened to overwhelm you, the lights flickered to life, illuminating the interior with a harsh fluorescent glow.

For a moment, you were blinded by the sudden brightness, blinking against the glare as your eyes adjusted to the light. And then, as the scene before you came into focus, a gasp escaped your lips, a sharp intake of breath that caught in your throat.

It was a chilling sight that greeted you, a scene straight out of a nightmare. The walls were adorned with photographs and drawings, a chaotic collage of images that seemed to stretch on endlessly. 

There were photographs of you, hundreds of them, each one capturing a different moment in time. Some were innocent snapshots, while others were more sinister, taken from a distance or in secret. And interspersed among the photographs, were drawings, sketches that depicted you in various poses, some eerily lifelike, others distorted and grotesque.

But it wasn't just the images that sent a chill down your spine.

Scattered around were pieces of clothing, personal belongings that had gone missing over the past few weeks.

And in the center of it all was a single photograph, larger than the rest, framed in a gaudy gold frame.

As you stood frozen in shock, your eyes fixated on the central photograph framed in gold, a shiver ran down your spine. It depicted a moment of triumph, frozen in time. You, standing on stage, holding the award for Artist of the Year.

You stumbled backwards, your legs threatening to give out beneath you as the full weight of the situation crashed down upon you. This was no ordinary warehouse. It was a shrine, a twisted homage to your darkest fears and deepest secrets, and you were standing right in the heart of it.

Chan's strong arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace, steadying you as you stumbled backward.

With trembling hands, the world spun dizzily around you as you struggled to make sense of the nightmare unfolding before your eyes. But deep down, you knew that there was no rational explanation for what you were seeing. This was the work of a madman, a predator lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike.

 "What the hell is all this?" Felix exclaimed, his eyes darting around the room in bewilderment.

Seungmin's gaze flickered to the surroundings, taking in the eerie display with a mixture of dread and fascination. "It's like some kind of twisted shrine," he remarked. Felix's eyes widened in horror as he processed Seungmin's words, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

"Who would do something like this?" Adam murmured, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

You shook your head. "I don't know," you admitted, your voice trembling with fear and uncertainty.

As if drawn by an invisible force, the five of you stepped closer to examine the items scattered around the room. In the photographs and drawings, there were poloroid images of you with all the boys, your manager Zayne, and even your bodyguard Adam. Each picture was a secret snapshot, taken without your knowledge or consent.

Among the photographs and personal belongings, you noticed familiar items that didn't belong to you alone. Some were pieces of clothing worn by the boys, and others were personal effects that belonged to them.

"This is sick," Chan muttered, his eyes widening in horror as he took in the disturbing collection. "Wait.... these are Han's shoes," he exclaimed, pointing to a pair of sneakers tucked away in the corner. As he leaned closer, the intricate designs drawn on the shoes became clearer—Hyunjin's distinctive style evident in every stroke. "Hyunjin drew on them for him, remember?" he added, as he glanced at you for confirmation.

Seungmin's brows furrowed in concern as he surveyed the scene. "And those are Changbin's headphones," he noted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You felt a chill run down your spine as the realization sank in. Whoever had orchestrated this twisted shrine wasn't just fixated on you—they had been watching all of you, collecting pieces of your lives like trophies.

And then, as you continued to sift through the evidence, Felix's sharp intake of breath caught your attention. His eyes were fixed on a small camera lying among the other items, its sleek black exterior gleaming dully in the dim light.

With trembling hands, you picked up the camera, its weight heavy with the weight of its implications. The sleek black surface was marked with a small detail that made your heart sink:

HH initials engraved discreetly on the side.

Felix's eyes widened in recognition. "Wait... this is Hyunjin's camera," he exclaimed, his voice trembling with disbelief.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as Felix's words sank in. Hyunjin had mentioned misplacing his camera not too long ago, but to find it here, in the heart of this twisted shrine, was beyond unsettling.

Seungmin's brows furrowed in concern as he reached out to inspect the camera. "But how did Hyunjin's camera end up here?" he questioned.

Felix shook his head, his expression a mix of confusion and alarm. "I don't know, but… look at it," he urged, pointing to the camera's worn exterior. "It's like it's been through a lot… and the photos…" He carefully picked up a photograph, holding it up to the dim light. The image, a faded Polaroid, matched the type that Hyunjin's camera would produce.

"T-They match." he stuttered.

Your stomach churned with dread as you noticed the telltale signs of wear and tear on the camera. It looked like it had been used extensively, as if it had been the one responsible for capturing the hundreds of photographs that adorned the walls of the shrine.

As you mulled over Felix's revelation, Chan's voice broke the heavy silence. " There's drawing's too," he added, his tone grim as he gestured towards a pile of sketches nearby.

You put the camera down and approached the pile of sketches, your heart pounding in your chest. As you sifted through them, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you. The drawings were indeed different, varying in style and execution, almost as if they had been created by two different artists or personalities. Chan picked up one of the sketches, observing it silently.

"Who else can draw like this?" he pointed out after a while, his tone grave. The style was unmistakable—it bore a striking resemblance to Hyunjin's artwork, the same attention to detail and fluid lines that he had meticulously honed over the years.

A knot formed in your stomach as you considered the implications. Hyunjin, your friend and confidant, had always been a pillar of support and kindness. But could he be capable of something so sinister?

Seungmin's expression darkened as he processed the possibility. "It doesn't make sense," he murmured, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Hyunjin wouldn't... he couldn't..."

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you feeling sick and unsteady on your feet. Hyunjin, your friend and confidant, had always been a pillar of support and kindness. The thought of him being capable of such a sinister act was almost too much to bear.

As the conversation unfolded, your eyes flicked nervously around the dimly lit surroundings. Suddenly, a movement caught your attention—a figure standing atop the railing, shrouded in darkness and clad in all-black attire, their face concealed by a mask.

Your heart leaped into your throat as you caught sight of the mysterious figure, their presence sending a jolt of fear coursing through your veins. Seungmin and Felix followed your gaze, their expressions turning to shock as they spotted the figure.

"Who… who's that?" Felix whispered, his voice barely above a horrified murmur.

Chan's grip tightened on your arm, his expression grim as he took in the sight before him. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice tense with apprehension. "But we need to get out of here, now."

Your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with the mysterious intruder. Yet, before you could react, Seungmin's darted towards the railing where the shadowy figure had been perched just moments before, his footsteps echoing off the cold, hard surfaces as he ascended the stairs.

"Seungmin, wait!" Chan called out, his voice ringing with urgency as he reached out towards his friend. "Get back here!"

The figure, sensing Seungmin's pursuit, sprang into action, leaping off the railing and onto the platform below. As they landed gracefully, they wasted no time in breaking into a swift sprint down another flight of stairs and out the door.

You were torn between the impulse to follow Seungmin and the instinct to stay rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the surreal turn of events. As Seungmin surged forward, his voice rang out in the night, sharp and commanding. "Stop! Come back here!" he shouted, his words echoing off the walls of the deserted alley. But the figure showed no signs of slowing down, their pace unyielding.

As the figure dashed away, Seungmin in hot pursuit and Chan torn between following him and ensuring your safety, Adam leaped into action. With a swift motion, he bolted after Seungmin, his muscular frame disappearing into the darkness outside.

With Adam gone, Chan's attention snapped back to you, his grip on your arm tightening even further. "We need to go," he said urgently, his voice strained with worry. "Now."

As the tension mounted and the urgency to leave intensified, Felix remained steadfast, his phone in hand, capturing every detail of the eerie scene with precision. With each click of the shutter, he immortalized the chilling evidence before you.

"Felix, let's go!" Chan called out, his voice edged with urgency as he urged everyone to leave the warehouse behind.

"We can't leave without this evidence," Felix insisted.

Chan's patience wore thin, and he shot Felix a stern glare, his expression conveying a sense of urgency that left no room for argument. Felix, momentarily taken aback by the intensity of Chan's stare, quickly backtracked.

"Okay, let's go," Felix conceded, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension as he hastened to join the group. With Felix now at his side, Chan led you out of the warehouse through the same door you came from.

As you made your way to the car, the adrenaline coursed through your veins drowning out the sounds of your footsteps, your heart pounding in your ears.

Outside, the cool night air offered a welcome reprieve from the stifling atmosphere of the warehouse. You breathed deeply, trying to calm yourself as you leaned against the cold metal of the building's exterior.

But even as you tried to push aside the unsettling thoughts that gnawed at your mind, one thing was clear:

the nightmare was far from over.

And until you uncovered the truth behind the twisted shrine and the person responsible for it, you wouldn't rest easy.

In the dim light of the alleyway, you could only catch a faint glimpse of Seungmin in the distance, grappling with the shadowy figure. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched Seungmin's valiant attempt to apprehend the intruder. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though he had gained the upper hand, his fingers closing around the figure's arm in a desperate bid to restrain them.

But then, in an instant, everything changed.

The figure, desperate to break free, lashed out with surprising strength, delivering a powerful kick that sent Seungmin staggering backwards. With a sickening thud, he collided with the side of the building, his head striking against the unforgiving surface.

A gasp escaped your lips as you watched in horror, the scene unfolding before you in slow motion. Panic surged through you as Seungmin crumpled to the ground, his body limp and motionless.

Seconds later Adam appeared, racing to Seungmin's side with lightning speed. With practiced precision, he assessed the situation, his hands moving swiftly to check for signs of injury.

"Seungmin!" Chan's voice pierced the silence, his tone laced with urgency as he sprinted towards them, his footsteps echoing in the alleyway. His command compelled the rest of you to follow suit, each step heavy with dread and apprehension.

With every passing moment, the weight of the situation bore down on you, the reality of the danger you faced becoming all too real. As you all reached Seungmin's side, Chan knelt beside him.

"Seungmin, can you hear me?" Adam's voice was urgent as he gently cradled Seungmin's head in his hands.

But there was no response, only the haunting silence of the night, broken only by the distant sound of footsteps echoing in the darkness. Adam carefully examined Seungmin.

"He's alive. He's.......He's breathing, but he's bleeding."

"We need to get him to a hospital," Chan declared, his voice steady despite the panic that you all were feeling.

With Adam's assistance, Chan carefully lifted Seungmin's limp form, supporting him as you all made your way back to the car. Each step feeling like an eternity.

You quickly formulated a course of action, mapping out the fastest route to the nearest hospital.

As the car sped through the darkened streets, the urgency of the situation hung heavy in the air. With each passing moment, Seungmin's condition seemed to weigh on you more heavily.

Together, you navigated the twists and turns of the city, your eyes fixed on your friend as you raced against time to save him. And as the lights of the hospital came into view, you felt a surge of hope, knowing that help was finally within reach.

As you rushed Seungmin into the emergency room, the hospital staff sprang into action, whisking him away for immediate treatment. Your heart pounded with fear and anxiety as you watched them disappear behind the swinging doors, leaving you feeling helpless and alone in the sterile corridor.

As you waited anxiously for news of Seungmin's condition, your phone buzzed with a new message. With trembling hands, you unlocked your phone to find a text from the Unknown number that had been haunting you.

The ominous words sent a chill down your spine, a reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows. Whoever was behind this was playing a dangerous game, and you were caught in the middle of it.

ઇଓ EP.6 - To be or not to be

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

ઇଓ Taglist

@kayleefriedchicken  @stellasays45 @beautyandmentalbreakdown @bo-fairykim @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@seunghancore @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @stayceebs97 @julciaqwerty @jaiuneamesolitaiire

@bowsnbang  @skzruby @miss-delaneyrose @candyquokka @miin17

@mellhwang @christopherisfoive @linoalwaysknows @lyracarvahall @user09876512345678

@hyukazwifey @sunoosfavsposts

Red means you are not able to be tagged! Please Send me a dm to get removed from the taglist.

[biceratops7]

… let’s talk about “Arrival”

So I was fully intending on making a more general but thorough peruse through the new Good Omens title sequence, because my FUCK aren’t those always a gold mine. But then I thought to myself, “hey wait a minute, I can be even more unhinged and on brand.”

Something I’ve seen nobody talk about yet is that the movie that the procession is marching into is The Arrival, which is a 90’s movie that draws a pretty straightforward parallel. But I think if it doubles as a reference to 2016’s Arrival, THAT has some much more interesting implications. Either way this reference is doing some heavy lifting.

For those who haven’t seen the movie (or that one philosophy tube video about it lol), the basic plot is that a group of aliens later named heptopods arrive on earth scattered across the world, and just kind of invite humanity to check them out. Each country hires a team of linguists who are all tasked with figuring out what the visitors are here for. But the thing is, it’s only about aliens on the surface level. This is really about communicating, cooperation, and how language holds the power to alter your very fabric of reality.

Spoilers for the movie:

Two major revelations occur towards the end of the movie. The first is that an element of fluid time is revealed. Throughout the movie, the main American linguist has been having flashbacks to a daughter that passed away of an illness. But since the heptopod language has no regard for chronological order, we learn that these are actually flash-forwards when she becomes nearly fluent. In other words, learning heptopod, having a genuine curiosity and even compassion for these vastly different beings. has given her the ability to perceive reality in ways thought previously impossible.

Even before noticing the Arrival reference, I’ve been side eyeing these “flashbacks”, but this and the image above confirmed it for me. Any instance of the word “becoming” when talking about the past indicates some sort of fluid time nonsense. The past is fixed unless something ✨happens✨. I don’t think these are simply memories, I think something rather cosmic instead is afoot.

But it’s more than just “there’s probably time travel in this” though. Simply having Aziraphale as a companion has changed Crowley. It’s given him an ability that he’s not meant to be capable of as a demon. He already had it in him to be good and have mutual relationships based in trust and kindness, I’m sure all demons can if given the right nurture… but Crowley is experiencing love. In the show, something tangible to the senses and distinctly angelic. I’m very much hoping that that whole element of things is going to somehow be a driving factor in what’s occurring over all, and possibly involved in time going screwy.

The other element of Arrival’s ending that’s of import, is the heavy emphasis on the importance of cooperation. First of all, we learn at some point that not every country has the same message to decipher, they each have one piece of a whole. Some of the countries begin using games to communicate with their heptopods, and this poses a problem because it causes messages to be more easily interpreted as hostile. For example, the phrase “we brought a tool” can be easily misconstrued as “we have a weapon.” Eventually, the world gets impatient and scared, and a war is imminent. What finally leads to everyone putting down arms and cooperating, is the American linguist sending a message to the Chinese linguist saying “in war, there are no victors, only widows.”

Something noteworthy about this particular march is that the procession never splits like it does at the end of the first season’s. Not only are both angelic and demonic figures marching into the light atop a mountain as a United front, but this actually seems to be a theme this season. Heaven and Hell aren’t working together as far as we know, but they are at least working towards the same goal, which for some reason is getting Gabriel’s ass. There is also a heavy emphasis on mending broken relationships, with Crowley and Azirphale trying to fix a (probably) lesbian couple literally being the B plot.

Now this is where we bring in what’s actually on the movie screen, which is that damn box. So at this point we know basically nothing about it accept for it probably being a Mcguffin. But we DO have the imagery of three feathers, a black one, a white one, and a bluish grey one, falling into it… and it sure as fuck looks like a moving box. So back to arrival, what actually was the message? The heptopods told the linguist that they’re here to help humanity (via giving them a tool or new tech I think?) because in 3,000 years, they will need humanity’s help. So with this and the world eventually being inspired to stand down and share their pieces of the message, it’s this over arching theme of setting aside fear of the other and cooperating indefinitely for the benefit of the whole. The black feather, the white feather… and then something that is somehow both yet entirely unique.

I think… somehow, someway, this season may culminate in Heaven and Hell reconciling. Whether it be against a common enemy, for a shared goal, or in love, there seems to be many clues both symbolic and literal that show them learning to be one again. Learning to understand eachother’s language and see new ways of being neither before could fathom.

[gayboysteve]

It makes such perfect sense to view Marmalade as a manifestation of her wild youth whereas "Baron" is the simple dreamer she wishes she could've been. His being naive and his misusage of words are SO important. He's the person that could've been. And then the "Baron" we see after leaving the prison is the grounded mature version of both mixed together- calculating but also kind, a man but also a woman. Marmalade created Baron to protect her from her trauma and to control her more wild impulses; while in kinda Baron created Marmalade to protect his inner softness that wasn't able to be beaten out of them by a cruel life. "I just want to be with my one and only. She's my girl to protect."

And Baron is talking about themselves. She is her own protector. He has his own plan for justice. Not just for himself, not even just for their mother, but for other abused kids who were failed by a corrupt system and other old people who were failed by an entirely different corrupt system. (Both are represented by the same CEO.) To do so he must let that part out of herself again- that rage-filled impulsive girl stunted by her abuse. It's not a coincidence she appears just after Baron gets news about his mother's medication rising. She is his protector as much as he is hers.

It's important that Baron describes Marmalade as his dream girl to Otis. It's just not the kind of dream that Otis interprets. She basically "arrives" ( maladaptive coping mechanisms reemerging) to plan out the heist. It isn't just that Baron is the person Marmalade wishes she could've been in another life (naive and kind and part of a community), it's that while Marmalade is also a representation of their wild youthfulness she is also now the person that the present "Baron" (recently presented with the rising cost of his mother's medication and medical bills) wishes he could embody again despite having grown out of it because of his loving mother's influence.

I think it's very important that the almost sex scene after they get the masks but right before Mama Eda "dies" is shot almost like a horror sequence with discordant music and quick flashes of Marmalade on top of Baron in their respective masks. This happened just after the heist of the thrift shop where they stole the masks, Marmalade pistol-whipping the cashier before fleeing. An old woman staring up at Baron in fear on her knees.

Whether this is the reality of how this played out (with obviously just Marmalade there) is unimportant. Baron and Marmalade are the same person and when she looks into that mask and sees herself she's horrified at what she's capable of, the kind of harm she can inflict even when her intentions are at the end of the day pure of heart. That her letting back in her past negative impulses makes her a worse person than she is as the adult "Baron" who has repressed his trauma but matured because of their loving relationship with their mother.

Mama Eda's "death" comes quickly after and Marmalade's culpability is called into question narratively. She increasingly answers that she doesn't know what happened and that she was in the other room. She wasn't present. Nor was Baron. This, I think stems from Marmalade's manifestation of her guilt over Mama Eda being in a home where they can't actually care for her directly- and as a manifestation of any potential fears he might have at the idea of attempting to do so. As well, it's just a very real fear of her mother's inevitable death, especially as the heist has already commenced and now the final act is in motion.

If her plan fails then he won't be there for Mama Eda. There won't be anyone there to deliver the pills she (and others need) and thus if the plan fails then any deterioration in her mama's health is her fault. Her culpability for the plan. For not being there. For being in another room when/if/should the time quickly come.

Which is why I think the confrontation between "Baron" and Marmalade is so important. It isn't Baron being unable to trust Marmalade it's Marmalade being unable to trust herself. Trust in her plan and so the two sides of herself stand against each other in a kind of opposition. Self-blame and doubt, rage all in response to the fear she feels at the final leg of the plan.

It's important that this is the last time that we see Marmalade as she appears in the physical manifestation of "Baron's" story. The music goes dreamlike and ethereal as they speak. "You are the man of my fucking dreams. I love you like I've never loved anyone and I've never been loved."

Marmalade is speaking to herself. The version of the man that she's become and the person she is now; it's representative of Marmalade reconciling his past trauma while preparing for the final play in her plan- enacting revenge against those that caused her trauma. Marmalade as the wild youth she was before meeting Mama Eda was someone who never felt like she was loved, and that part of herself is now looking at the grown version of her that loves her back and accepts herself for all her faults. Her parting words are, "Dream big or don't dream at all".

And then we're thrust into the action from the start of the story with "Baron" getting arrested. And so she has now fully become one with herself. Both facets of her life are on the same page, reconciliation of the self. Acknowledgment of that trauma and the plan to enact in order to move on from it.

And then the final piece in her puzzle- Otis. She obviously had been keeping tabs on him. The comment about keeping his hair long because of a show he watched about Rastafarians tells us that he already knew about Otis' mother being from Jamaica. Baron had to sell Otis on Marmalade, he had to make Otis fall in love with her and trust what Baron was telling him was true about their love for each other. Baron needed to truly love Marmalade in order for the story to sell and the plan to work. And by embodying that she finally learned to fully love and accept herself.

"I just want to be with my one and only. She's my girl to protect."

[elly99]

Just Another Night

The queue to check in was long at the hotel you were staying.

When you had been told about this city, this was not quite what they were saying.

But what was that Saying exactly, if not the misconceptions of the majority?

Who say it's the city of romance, love and, like, beauty?

They'd probably never been to Paris, really.

Because it was hard to picture all of that, taking an overpriced taxi.

Or the metro that you were certain doubled as a sewer.

And seeing the swarms of tourists along Champs-Élysées lining up to buy bags or whatever.

So what was it, really? What did everyone come here to find?

And what was it you were expecting an ideal night in Paris to be?

Well, if we're talking about Ideals, only one name comes to mind.

And of course it's her. It's Kim Minji.

So you imagine that Ideal. You imagine her just ahead of you in the queue.

And she happens to be here, right now, in the same city, at the same hotel, because she's here to see you.

Wait, no. This is your imagination, sure, but you'd still like to be realistic. Yes, that's what you'd like to do.

So you tell yourself she'd be here for work. And if you asked her what she thought, she'd probably think that was more realistic, too.

So, she's here for work and you're also here, just by complete chance.

And she finishes checking in and happens to shoot you a glance.

And she's here for work, but of course she's here alone, without her manager.

Because you like to be realistic, except when it comes to thinking about her.

Just like in high school when you thought you could ask her out.

But to her, you were just The One Sitting Two Rows Behind, no doubt.

That's beside the point, though, because she's here now and she's staring straight at you.

Checking to make sure that it's really Her Classmate From A Year Ago Or Two.

She walks over to you and you walk over to her, leaving your place in line as you do.

Because, with her right in front of you, there can be nowhere else to go to.

And she's smiling with those eyes, the ones that had you enchanted, enthralled, enraptured and all that.

And she's happy to see you, it seems, and she wants to have a chat.

The typical How are yous and I'm goods are exchanged.

A predetermined sequence of words that someone else arranged.

That should be awkwardly repeated whenever you meet Someone From Way Back When.

Or, in this case, when you happen to meet the girl who was your High School Crush then.

But we all know you never stopped liking her. You were in love and you always had been.

A Crush, evidently, does exactly what it says on the tin.

Because you feel again now that familiar pressure in your chest. That Feeling you feel whenever she's near.

And after not seeing her for so long (she's more stunning than you remember), you're falling all over again, you fear.

You're falling but this time she catches you. She has something important to say.

She says, "You can check in later. Wanna hang out in my room?" Stunned, you manage an Okay.

So you two are alone, heading to her room in an elevator.

You think to yourself, "What if someone finds out about this later?"

But she leaves you no time to think as her hand brushes yours.

And suddenly you want the building to have an infinite number of floors.

Because her hair is tucked behind her ear just so.

So you can see her neck and watch all her skin glow.

Stupidly but slowly, you lean in.

And she turns to you with this stupid grin.

An I've-got-you-now grin that's just so sly.

You have no other choice now but to comply.

And her eyes say something like, "I want you, too."

And the next thing you know, she's kissing you.

Her perfume. It's Chanel. Chance, Eau Vive.

And she smells so good, like you wouldn't believe.

Then you're in her room and she's in your embrace.

And you finally get it, why people love this place.

Because Paris is Paris. It's the City of Love.

And you found her here under the stars above.

But the morning comes and reality sinks in.

Your mind has been wandering somewhere it shouldn't have been.

She says, "See you around," but those weren't the three words you wanted to hear.

You know she'd never say them. You know you'd never hold her near.

So in response, you whisper, "I wish you were mine."

Because it was just another night in Paris and you were still stuck in the line.

[oneatlatime]

Appa's Lost Days

Dare I hope?

You know, if ten year old me had turned on my TV to watch my weekly dose of Avatar and been greeted with a nearly two minute long uninterrupted sequence of a frightened and distressed animal being mistreated, that TV would have turned right back off again.

I don't buy that a ten tonne bison who has the leverage of his own weight as well as his airbending abilities would succumb to so few people.

Name one other character that Avatar has presented as so thoroughly without any redeeming characteristics. Even Zhao was at least kind of funny. Everything about the chucklehead on the left is rotten to the core. "What's your dad going to do when he finds out we broke his stuff while doing crime?" "Nothing. It's not his stuff; it's previous crime."

I thought beetle-headed was a commentary on their intelligence, but it's actually a description.

I'm rapidly coming to the conclusion that I should have waited to get my hopes up until I came to an episode called Appa's Found Days. Is this whole thing going to be a series of near misses with the Gaang?

You know, if I had a nickel for every time an animal companion on this show has been threatened with a trip to the butcher's, I'd have two nickels. In the space of two episodes.

This is not fun to watch guys.

Not if I break you first asshole.

The way this Nurse Ratched type circus guy says "earn it" is chilling.

Of course the Fire Nation would find a way to turn bending into animal abuse. Of course.

a) that cage is way too small b) who knew cabbage suction could be so cute?

Completely unsubtle parallel with the boy here, right down to the complete disregard they show to the threats thrown their way.

Stubborn and wilful are not adjectives I would use to describe Appa this episode, or ever.

Wind buffalo. Wind Buffalo. Really? Was Fart Cow taken?

That's a very relatable facial expression.

That makeup and costume is awful.

Now that's satisfying.

Is the Fire Nation kid voiced by Aang's voice actor?

Nevermind. THAT'S satisfying.

I was right - this episode is Appa always being a step behind the Gaang.

Baby Appas! This almost makes this episode worth it!

It's funny how a single feature can contribute so much to a character's design. Arrowless Aang is just some kid. Let me rephrase that, since such a big part of Aang's character is the fact that he's just some goofy kid. Arrowless Aang is indistinguishable from other kids for the first time this series, because every other time we've seen him on screen he's either the only child airbender with his arrows, or the only airbender left.

Lady monks. Nuns? I don't think I've seen those before.

Appa and Aang share a dreamscape? That could be useful.

There's dumb, there's really dumb, and then there's 'wake a completely asleep and therefore harmless unknown creature with threats of violence' dumb.

Close call for Iroh. Do you think he's suspected that Appa (and presumably the Avatar) haven been in Ba Sing Se this whole time?

Bipedal Appa is strange. A very effective fighter, but strange to look at.

I'm amazed that giant boar thing walked away from that.

And now they're hitting me with an 'Appa's given Up' montage. Someone who works on this show hates me.

*Heroically refrains from ranting about the impracticality of using white fabric for an active warrior's glove.*

"This could be our most important mission yet." Foreshadowing?

Did Suki and Appa actually meet at any point in the Warriors of Kyoshi episode?

Turns out 'Aang' is a magic word.

Appa kisses!

Appa is apparently legally banned from having anything good for more than five minutes. Although it's good writing that they're using a previously established weakness - Appa's shedding - to bring the danger ladies back in.

I guess they have Azula drop the line about her brother to remind the audience of who she is, but surely Suki's like "Who are you? Who's your brother? Why should I care?"

Azula going after the Kyoshi warriors is completely unnecessary right? The Avatar isn't there. Neither are Zuko and Iroh. It doesn't even net her Appa. She's just looking for someone to beat up.

WOW this is bad writing. Like really bad. My Immortal levels of bad.

Would it be too much to ask for the Kyoshi warriors to do even slightly ok against the Azula ladies? Couldn't they at least get a couple of hits in?

Kudos to Suki for essentially sacrificing herself and her warriors to save Appa. 'Most important mission yet' was a bit on the nose.

Out of options, Appa goes home. Ouch.

Someone explain this to me. Air Bison teething ring?

My what a human sounding cough you have buddy.

This is why you don't use Air Bison as guard dogs.

I like what this Guru is saying. Fear displacing trust but not love feels more accurate than how I usually see the consequences of trauma discussed.

The music playing throughout this sequence fits so well. I think it's some sort of metal thing you hit - I want to say a variation on tubular bells, and maybe something Glockenspiel adjacent? It's unlike anything I've heard in this show before and it fits so well that I'm nerding out a bit.

Disney princess Guru. Aang has Disney princess moments too. Maybe it's an Air Nomad thing?

No wonder the monks built a temple here. Even destroyed, it's gorgeous.

And Appa decides to trust again. I love it when an animal visibly comes to a decision about your trustworthiness.

This energy reading stuff makes sense given that Aang and Appa already share a dreamscape.

He IS a great beast. The best!

OH COME ON

Someone whip up a wanted poster for Long Feng: Cattle Rustler. It had also never occurred to me that he was an earthbender.

That flip move with the earthbending platform must have caused Appa to land on his back. I bet that hurt.

One of the times I am very grateful that the closing credits music is so upbeat.

Final Thoughts

@aboutiroh I see why you recommended I save my chocolate for this episode.

The Tale of Momo was really just a preparatory taste of things to come, huh? Almost a microcosm of this episode.

This is the first episode where I had to take breaks while watching. Especially the circus sequence, I think I got up twice to do things like get a cup of tea and stare randomly out windows at squirrels. I didn't even have to do that with Zuko Alone, despite freaking out a lot about it, because at least that episode took breaks from the child abuse to check in with Aang being miserable. This episode was unrelenting.

If I had seen this episode when I was the age of the target audience, this may well have turned me off the show for good. If my Mom had seen this episode, I would have been banned from watching the show entirely. Not a decision I'd agree with, but my Mom is the type of person who banned her kids from watching Bambi.

To watch through all of that unrelenting animal (at best) unhappiness, and still not get Appa back at the end of the episode? That's a bit much. It's not often that this show ends its episodes without at least a little bit of something positive.

Once again, the music did a lot of heavy lifting this episode. The animal noises weren't quite as emotive as the ones in Momo's Tale, but Appa's face is more expressive, and more was shown through his expression than through Momo's, so I feel like this episode had just as much non-verbal animal communication as Momo's Tale.

I think I'm renaming season 2 "the Suki redemption arc." I really didn't like the Warriors of Kyoshi episode, and I didn't like what her character did in that episode. But every time Suki appears in season 2? She absolutely nails it.

The show since losing Appa has taken to wallowing. Even with bright spots like the poetry bouncer, the overall tone since Appa's appanapping has been ever more dark. If this keeps up for many more episodes, it will no longer be fun to watch.

Somehow I don't think this one is going on my rewatch list.

[thecollectivefixation]

POPPY PLAYTIME chapter 3 analysis… PART 2

ALRIGHT IT'S QUEEN AGAIN. I know, I know... IM STILL NOT DONE WITH POPPY PLAYTIME. But guys... I hadn't covered everything in the last post and obviously there are still many questions left unanswered. I'm going to see where these questions go and what answers I might be able to come up with. But hey, enjoy the ride! 😘💪

__

So first off, I didn't talk about the reversed audio that appeared during the hallway sequence after going into 'home sweet home.’ 😤😤😩THE ONLY REASON i didn't, was because I didn't hear it previously in the gameplay I was watching. However, I was just searching around other peoples gameplays and I heard this audio and so I decided to find out what it actually says.

[hallway sequence during ‘Home Sweet Home’]

The audio reveals: “I find your presence intrusive. After all this time you return, you come in here and you kill and murder, you pillage and destroy! Your presence was demanded 10 years ago and you didn't show up! 8/8/1995, you were supposed to be here. Why weren't you here? You missed the event, you missed the meeting, you missed the party! You have no right to be here. 8/8/1995."

So this confirms that ‘the hour of joy' did happen on the 8/8/1995 and that the game is placed 10 years after. Also what may confirm that we, as the protagonist came back because of guilt, is the writing on the floor. While walking through the halls as the reversed audio plays, what can be seen on the floor is the words: 'Guilt Haunts You’ These words also appear on other places such as walls.

[GUILT HAUNTS YOU]

Before this sequence we walked into red gas that seemingly makes us either hallucinate or fall into a gas-induced sleep. But either way Catnap can somehow control the people who inhale this gas, and perhaps the hallucinations they have from it. This can be proved by Catnap speaking through the radios and appearing for split seconds to stalk the protagonist.

[Walking into the gas-filled room]

Furthermore, it's interesting how the reversed audio was so accusatory. This further expands on the theory that the protagonist is an important figure in Playtime co. The experiments, or seemingly just Catnap wanted us there, 'demanded our presence' to be there.

Also you may be wondering who was speaking on the reversed audio. I believe Catnap was the one speaking, this is the most likely answer since during one of the tapes Catnap said a line and the voice he had was the same exact voice that was in the reversed audio. There are other theories but l'm sure it was Catnap speaking since he could have also been the one telling us "Don't move. Don't move an inch” and “Get up” during the end of the sequence as he was watching/stalking us the whole time.

Now, another question that we may be thinking about is, what happened to all the children in the Play-care orphanage during 'The Hour of Joy'? Now we know that many of the kids were used as test subjects for the experiments in order to find the secret to immortality or resurrect people who had passed away- Elliot Ludwigs child, for example. But there wasn't just a couple children living in the orphanage, there had to be lots more that hadn't been used for experiments yet.

[past children running through halls]

We know from Miss Delights conversation with Catnap the he locked the children away somewhere so Miss Delight couldn't get to them, and all the employees died. But Catnap said the children were safe, so what happened to them? The answer to this is that... We don't know yet! There are many, many theories out there and some say that perhaps they all got eaten, had already been turned into toys or are probably still alive out there, somewhere...

We have to assume that if they were still alive, the children didn't leave the factory because i mean, it should be obvious to the outside world if dozens of orphans came out from the ground and suddenly rejoined society. 😭 We know that there was a food shortage years after the events of ‘The Hour of Joy’ so it's hard to fully assume the children could have survived ten years in the factory, but really, who knows?

Obviously they didn't intend to kill the children, since Catnap wouldn't have locked the children away from Miss Delight. There's also another theory that says the prototype was using the poppy flowers to continue the experiments with the remaining kids, to turn itself human again. BUT! We won't be finding out until possibly the next chapter.

[Playcare underground orphanage]

About Miss Delight and the lore surrounding her, I don't really know a lot other than her conversation with Catnap from the tape and that she is one of the worst of the monster murders that occurred during ‘The Hour of Joy’. However I have read around that she was once a kind and sweet teacher, but when ‘The Hour of Joy' happened, her and her sisters were locked in a room by Catnap.

[miss delight]

Notes found in the game during the school section reveal that Miss Delight slowly succumbed to madness and went insane. She formed a makeshift weapon and called it Barb, even considering it as a living person later on (which is crazy 🙀). According to the notes scattered around in the school, being locked in the school for so long after ‘The Hour of Joy’ and being singled out by the other teachers to die first caused Miss Delight to go as far as cannibalising the rest of the teachers/her sisters, stemming from her desperation to survive.

Her desperation would soon develop into a twisted, sick obsession for bloodshed. Had Catnap not hidden the children from Miss Delight, she would have killed them all as well. 😔☝️

I know there are so many more secrets and questions needed to be answered but that's all I have for today. Poppy Playtime chapter 3 has shined new light on so many new possibilities and now that so much has been revealed, I'm sure that we will be able to come to a conclusion soon. Thanks all for listening, see you — IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!!!!!

— Queen.

[animehouse-moe]

The Apothecary Diaries Episode 5: Covert Operations

Sure, this might not be the most visually stunning series of the year, or the most engaging or whatever other metric you might measure by, but I think, much like today's episode of Spy x Family, it does something that a lot of people wouldn't truly appreciate until they understand it, and that would be blocking and layouts.

Yes, blocking. It's a weird thing to talk about in terms of an anime, but it can be incredibly important in the process of "building" a scene, and comes from the heart of the storyboards. I mean, just look at this scene from early on in the episode.

What does it do so well? It makes sure that viewers understand that the space that exists within this series is three dimensional, and it accomplishes that very efficiently with character blocking. They're not orthographic or perfectly aligned with one direction or right in the center of the screen or anything like that. They're placed within the scene in a way that remains very intentional and purposeful, but without "catering" directly to the eyes of the viewer. It forces the viewer to understand the scene in a totally different context because of how things are placed and where.

Let me give another example with Maomao.

This one's incredibly simple but I think in the most deceptive way possible very good. The general idea that they're playing with is "balance" and is very important in scene composition.

Allow me to explain. What we have in this is: the back wall, a desk with a lamp and some fabric on it, Maomao, and then a table in the front left corner of the scene.

And I think that table is the sneakiest part of the whole thing, because it's what really provides the depth and distance of Maomao in this sequence. Even better is that, much like the fabrics and large desk, it's cut off by the frame. I talked about this sort of thing to no end with Skip and Loafer, but to bring it to this episode in particular, cutting objects off, especially in a three dimensional space where they don't just extend in one direction past the frame, but in multiple, is such an incredibly good trick for providing depth and a sense of space to a layout.

Finally, to tie a neat bow on this one, how the placement of objects builds the frame. Maomao is not in the absolute center of the frame, both horizontally and vertically, and that offset requires effort from viewers to correct for. Similarly, placing objects at the edge of the frame forces viewers to become aware of the limitations on the lens that they are viewing the content through. It builds an impressive sense of scope that exists outside what is being shown and is a great trick to use to accentuate things like Maomao's character acting in the sequence.

Armed with that knowledge, the episode really shines in its effort to place character acting and interaction at the forefront while providing a far larger sense of space through its layouts that love juxtaposing proximity with distance. But also, just look at how impressively well the episode adheres to the rule of thirds.

I think my favorite example of the expert blocking and layouts is how they use it to convey the differences between the four concubines and their ladies in waiting.

It's incredibly impressive in how they're able to convey so much from so little. The difference in the angles (both pitch and tilt), the spacing between the concubine and their ladies in waiting, the organization of the ladies in waiting, there's a world of information that appears with them that tells countless stories without saying a word.

That said, the best example of blocking with the concubines is Gyokuyou's later on in the episode, just look at this.

Gyokuyou and Maoamo, the "main attractions", of this grouping comprise the middle of the scene, while the other ladies in waiting are off in the wings. What's so great about it though is the depth that is provided by the layout. None of the characters are sharing the same space in terms of depth, and it builds a really impressive scene where Gyokuyou comprises the front of the group as the "head" and Maomao brings up the rear as the last, but most important in the group. All the while, the main duo separate the pairs of ladies in waiting vertically. Just really incredible stuff that gives life and feeling to the composition of the scenes in the best possible way.

And then there's the stuff between Maomao and Jinshi. I just love how they intentionally preserve the height difference and are aware of that despite the two not sharing a scene often. And then the dark vs light in terms of composition and brightness? Really just expert work that makes for an incredibly satisfying scene in ways that you might not grasp right away.

There's just a hell of a lot of effort in terms of direction and boarding to create an episode that is not just consistently aware of space, but puts focus on character acting and movement so efficiently. Really really great work on the episode as a whole.

[audiodramayearbook]

A compiled list of all the polls!

This will be updated as new categories go live.

Show that is begging the world to please stop making their fictional torment nexuses a reality. (AKA the Stop One-Upping Us Amazon Challenge award)

Listening to this show is cheaper than therapy.

Fuck I missed an important thing because I was listening to this show. (AKA the Do Not Listen While Driving award)

Best show a listener might not like at first, but really picks up to be something special after you give it more then three episodes and leaves you wanting more.

They warned us about this show but we didn't listen and now everything hurts.

I listened to the whole thing and still have no idea what’s going on. (AKA the It's Been A Wild Ride award)

Character most fully unaware of the genre they’re in.

Please just let us take them home and feed them soup (aka the Wet Cat Award)

The character that left us too soon.

The character that didn't leave us soon enough.

We hate them, but love every second they’re on air.

This character is entirely too pure for the show they're in (aka the Cinnamon Roll Award)

The most character of all time.

Actor most likely to jump-scare the listener (aka the Wait, they’re in this too??? award)

Look, all we want to know is when do they breathe. (aka the Pacing And Lung Capacity Award)

The actor whose voice wraps us up in a warm blanket.

If this actor was wearing pants, they acted them off. (aka the Scenery Chewing Award)

We heard their voice exactly once and immediately started daydreaming about who we wanted to hear them play (aka The Fan Casting Award)

Best blink-and-you'll-miss-it cameo

What do you mean it’s not punny? (aka the Highest Form of Humor Award)

Most likely to have detailed notes for expansive worldbuilding & backstory that doesn't appear on screen (aka the There's More Lore Than Script Award)

Writing this show is cheaper than therapy

Writer most likely to be lovingly bullied by their actors & fans.

Best made up word(s) even the writer can’t pronounce correctly (aka the Yes, But is It A Conlang Award)

Enemies-to-Lovers arc but it's you and this show's writer.

Is this a stock sound or custom foley????? (aka the We Do Not Deserve the Priceless Treasure That Is A Good Editor Award)

Longest credit sequence (aka the Award for Most Times Looping The Outro Music)

Most likely to make you say “Wait, This Wasn’t Recorded Live, In Person???” (aka the It’s Like I’m There Award)

Creator of the most artfully-awful misaphonic nightmare. (aka the Oh God It Squishes Award)

This soundtrack is a banger. ( aka the That's What the Kids Say, Right? Award)

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

And remember, any and all shows that released an episode in 2023 can be submitted to the Yearbook! Do that here!