#open source handheld

[popup-qa]

Exploring the Diverse Landscape of Point-of-Sale Devices in Qatar

In the dynamic retail landscape of Qatar, Point-of-Sale (POS) devices play a pivotal role in enhancing customer experience, streamlining operations, and facilitating transactions. From traditional desktop systems to cutting-edge handheld devices, Qatar's retail sector encompasses a wide array of POS solutions tailored to meet diverse business needs. In this article, we delve into the common types of POS devices utilized across various industries in Qatar, highlighting their features, benefits, and applications.

Self-Service Kiosk: Self-service kiosks have gained popularity across Qatar's retail outlets, offering customers the convenience of browsing products, placing orders, and making payments independently. These interactive terminals are particularly prevalent in fast-food chains, cinemas, and retail stores, allowing patrons to customize orders and complete transactions swiftly.

Omnichannel POS: In the era of seamless shopping experiences, omnichannel POS systems have emerged as a cornerstone of retail operations in Qatar. These integrated solutions unify online and offline sales channels, enabling retailers to synchronize inventory, track customer interactions, and deliver personalized services across multiple touchpoints. Whether in-store, online, or via mobile platforms, omnichannel POS empowers businesses to cater to the evolving needs of tech-savvy consumers.

Desktop POS System: Desktop POS systems remain a prevalent choice for small to medium-sized businesses in Qatar's retail sector. Featuring robust hardware and user-friendly software interfaces, these stationary terminals facilitate efficient transaction processing, inventory management, and sales reporting. With customizable features and scalability options, desktop POS systems cater to the operational requirements of diverse retail environments, from boutiques to supermarkets.

Handheld POS System: Mobility and flexibility define the handheld POS systems embraced by Qatar's hospitality and entertainment establishments. Equipped with handheld devices such as tablets or mobile terminals, servers and staff can seamlessly navigate through crowded venues, take orders, and process payments on the spot. This agile solution enhances tableside service, reduces wait times, and elevates customer satisfaction levels.

Tablet POS System: Tablet POS systems have revolutionized the retail landscape in Qatar, empowering businesses with compact yet powerful tools for transaction processing and customer engagement. Ideal for pop-up shops, food trucks, and boutique stores, these portable devices combine the functionality of traditional POS terminals with the versatility of modern touchscreen interfaces, enabling swift checkout experiences and personalized interactions.

Phone POS System: With the widespread adoption of smartphones, phone POS systems have emerged as a convenient alternative for micro-merchants and mobile vendors in Qatar. By transforming mobile devices into secure payment terminals, businesses can accept card payments anytime, anywhere, fostering business agility and expanding revenue streams. Whether through NFC technology or card readers, phone POS systems offer a cost-effective solution for cashless transactions.

Open-Source POS: Embracing flexibility and customization, open-source POS solutions are gaining traction among tech-savvy retailers and restaurateurs in Qatar. Built on open-source software platforms, these systems empower businesses to tailor POS functionalities to their specific needs, integrate with third-party applications, and adapt to evolving industry trends. From inventory management to loyalty programs, open-source POS fosters innovation and scalability in the retail ecosystem.

Multichannel POS: As Qatar's retail landscape evolves, multichannel POS solutions have become indispensable for enterprises seeking to engage customers across diverse sales channels. By seamlessly integrating brick-and-mortar stores, e-commerce platforms, and social media channels, multichannel POS systems enable unified inventory management, real-time analytics, and targeted marketing campaigns. This holistic approach enhances brand visibility, drives sales growth, and cultivates customer loyalty in an increasingly competitive market.

In conclusion, the diverse array of POS devices available in Qatar reflects the region's commitment to innovation, customer-centricity, and operational excellence in retail. Whether through self-service kiosks, omnichannel platforms, or mobile solutions, businesses have access to a spectrum of POS technologies tailored to optimize efficiency, elevate customer experiences, and drive sustainable growth in the digital era.

[busyeatingslugs]

I dont even know where to start with flow.

bear with me on this rant, talking about camera movement, foleys and trauma

not to mention that its a blender production, BLENDER. the open source software industry professionals keep telling us will never be industry standard, made by a small independent team that s highly stylized and slow paced outperforming disney movies with ten times the budget

The animation is absolutely fantastic and detailed, the stylized environments breathtaking and the water looks the way it feels, different in every situation, from above its unpredictable and scary and destructive but once you change perspective youll discover a whole new world that ceases to be scary.

it reminded me of going snorkeling for the first time. I grew up far far away from any body of water so the first time i had the chance to go to the sea i was so scared because i didnt know what lurked beneath the waves. but once i had my head under the water there were no more waves and just the algae slowly swaying.

Everything was suddenly silent aside from what sounded like the quiet chittering of fish. As if everything around you was alive in a way you didnt realize before.

The foleys used in the film absolutely added to that, using that same chittering sound for the underwater scenes.

But man what really got me was the camera, the handheld shakey style to perfectly counteract the stylized shaders feels so different from the detached camera of so many films.

The way it follows the view of the characters to emphasize how the situation triggers their animal instincts, how theyre so small in such a big world.

The cat looking up to the enormity of the secretary bird, the huge waves making their way towards you

And before I start with a whole new rant about how much I loved seeing animals with animal reactions and not exaggerrated cartoonish humanized reactions. Seeing non american animation always gets me. Theres no slapstick, no funny tropes, but slow pacing and complicated characters.

i need to talk about trauma.

This is a story about trauma and how it never gets easier no matter how much time passes. The cat has to relive its trauma again and again to survive. The only way to go forward is to keep working through it and even when it tries and slowly forces itself to learn swimming it doesnt get good at it and it doesnt stop being scared.

I loved the first moment the cat tries diving on its own. It learned from the capybara that its doable, imitates the way the capybara handles the situation, takes a deep breath and dives. And when it actually works it leaves the cat with new impressions about the world around it.

It learns that there are two sides about its situation. The one it has nightmares about, feeling trapped and helpless

And the other side of the coin, seeing the unseen, part of the living breathing world around it

But soon enough it runs out of air and gets massively triggered out of its amazement immediately panicking and leaving the situation. That is part of the process, you wont always only take steps forward. The amazement and beauty of the underwater world does not replace the fear and trauma response.

[novella-november]

Just a PSA, Hurricane Helene is going to be passing through my area starting some time tomorrow, so I wanted to take a moment to remind anyone who is in this storm's path to make sure you have:

1) flashlights or other light sources that are not just your cell phone -- cheap solar lights work great in a pinch; to charge them, arrange them around indoor lamps to get the most light exposure, or put them in your sunniest window:

2) you should have food and drink that is stable at room temperature and does not require anything to prep, plus a can opener, in case of prolonged power outages.

3) keep important documents such as birth certificates, passports, etc all in a safe location that is preferably waterproof; a ziplock bag, or a locking food container will work in a pinch.

4) find which area of your house is the sturdiest, without windows, and make sure your household knows to go there in an emergency, which includes Tornadoes; for some, this is a basement, for others it is a bathroom located away from an exterior wall, and for us, its a small hallway in the center of the house. Try to put extra blankets, pillows, and other cushioning in this area in advance both for comfort of everyone crammed into a small area, and also for additional protection, since you can wrap yourself up in pillows and thick blankets in an emergency; if you've got small kids, try to make sure everyone has their favorite stuffed animal to hug.

5) make sure everyone's pajamas are clothes that are comfortable and good for wearing in public, and that everyone has closed toed shoes on hand that can be thrown on at a moments notice and that everyone knows to put them on ASAP when an emergency alert comes through.

6) make sure all phones are fully charged, and preferably that you have backup power banks; if possible, have an emergency handheld radio on hand to listen to broadcasts. If you need to use a phone to watch local news livestreams, have one member of the house use their phone to stream while everyone else preserves their battery.

7) make sure you have any essential medications on hand in a form that is easy to transport, and if you have pets, make sure you have food, pet carriers, and leashes/harnesses, etc!

Stay safe, everyone!

[aangelinakii]

BLOOD ORANGE.

— challengers.

summary : after winning a tennis tournament, you meet two guys at your after-party. they invite you back to their hotel room for some beers. who knows what could happen?

note : not smut at all but like verrrrryy suggestive and a little crazy like wow reader i didn't know you were like that ALSO heavily inspired by a bot i have on cai because i knew the idea of wally and dick being patrick and art would eat tf up so i basically reconstructed a convo i had with them 🙈🙈

knock, knock.

ear pressed against the door, you could hear a rummaging around from inside the motel room, located right down the end of the hall. it was dingier than what you were used to, coming with your parents who paid for nice hotels and nice rooms, but for two college-age guys? better than one would expect.

feet padded closer, and you pulled away from the door just in time for it to open and you not fall in, which revealed the two boys you'd met at your party earlier.

wally west, red hair like fire, and a personality to match it. his smile seemed plastered to the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were wandering like he wanted you to see it; not in a way that made you feel like a piece of meat, but definitely enough for you to realise he was into you.

dick grayson — ice. more cooled with his words, as well as better under the pressure of the play you'd watched, where they won the duos tournament going on. he seemed to let wally do more of the talking at the party, but was the one to invite you here; whilst wally was rambling on about how well you'd played, also trying to compliment your appearance at the same time, dick cut him off with a, "he's trying to ask you to come over tonight."

and, well, here you are.

"hey," you said lightly, looking between the two boys. their hair was both a mess, sticking out at the edges, and wally's t-shirt was on backwards. a distinct haze seemed to hang through the room, the smell of cigarette smoke now drifting out through the door.

"hey yourself," dick smiled, stepping back slightly to allow you some space to walk through. "make yourself at home. you drink, right? we have beer."

stepping into their little motel room was like walking into a time capsule; yellow wallpaper, peeling at the edges, a sqeaky-looking double bed with a ghastly grandma-floral duvet. the source of the cigarette smell seemed to be gone, but you spotted a plastic shower cap stuck with an elastic band over the smoke detector. smart kids, or bad kids?

you left your sports sliders by the door, where two pairs of tennis shoes had been strewn.

"nice place you've got here," you said with a soft laugh, drifting your hand along the tv stand, narrowly avoiding a stray polo shirt you recognised from the tournament earlier that day.

when you spotted the little paper waste bin nudged beneath the desk, it made sense how they'd managed to make the place a little cleaner — and the sound of rushing around from before. crumpled beer cans and empty cigarette packets lay at the bottom, some tissues balled up and placed over them.

wally was the one to chuckle, finding home on the bed, assumably same as before. "hey, we know it's not the four seasons," he laughed in response, causing you to look up and meet his glinting green eyes. "but i'd say it's pretty nice. you should see what some of the other tourny people are staying in."

unsure if he meant better or worse conditions, you simply offered back a smile to show you'd appreciated his input, as well as the four seasons joke. not that you'd stayed there, but you could imagine it'd be ten times more lavish than your hotel.

although they were trying to make you comfortable, there still seemed to be some tension in the air. "so, you said you have beer?" you prompted with a soft laugh.

"right," dick said, springing up from his place still at the door, which he'd closed behind you. he travelled a short way across the room, passing you in the process, to a small handheld cooler beside one of their duffle bags. he lifted the lid and dug around for three bottles. "hope you don't mind, they're not exactly good. trying to save some money, so we've only got these shitty brands."

"it's alright," you grinned in return as dick passed you a cold, dripping bottle. "the shitty ones are always the best."

this seemed to ease dick a little out of his fear of judgement, and so he reciprocated the smile as he walked round to rest on what seemed to be his side of the bed.

dick was just passing a bottle to wally when you spoke the latter's name, causing his grip on the bottle to falter slightly. "think you could crack this open for me?" you asked, and wally's smile immediately brightened.

he grabbed a lighter from the bedstand beside him and notched it at an angle beneath the lid. adding a little strength, the lid came flying off with a fizz, and you and dick gave a cheer.

"all in a day's work," wally grinned as he carefully passed you back your beer.

judging by the small ghost of a smirk on those lips of his, the brush of his fingers against yours was purposeful. "so where you from, anyway?" he asked, unable to tear his eyes away from your first cheap sip, and the way your tongue slipped out from behind your lips to dab at a stray droplet.

"oh, i'm local; malibu area," you responded with a small nod. "and you guys? you not from california?"

they seemed to share a laugh at this, although somewhat sheepish and not the type that guys share to make someone feel stupid. dick leaned back against the headboard, bringing an arm to rest behind his neck. "no, this is actually our first time in cali."

"oh? then where's home for you?"

"well, i'm from gotham," dick began, gesturing to himself with his bottle, and then redirected it towards wally. "and this guy's from blue valley but lives in central."

your eyebrows rose as you brought your beer back up to your lips for another sip, the rim pausing just for a moment. "holy— so you're eastern boys. long way to come for a tournament, isn't it?"

"i mean, we won something," wally piped up, nodding to the trophy sitting on the desk. "so i'd say it's worth it."

wally was mimicking dick, stretching his legs out along the length of the bed, still not having noticed the tag sticking out at the front of his neck, and you'd set yourself down at the foot of the bed, positioned around their ankles; just enough space for a first meeting, but just close enough to get them curious.

"so, if you're from gotham, and you're from central, how do you know each other?"

once again the two boys share a knowing look, eyes blazing as they glanced at one another — there's something going on here, but you not quite sure what it is, you're not even sure if they know it's there.

after a few moments, dick turned back to you with a smile. he lets out an uncertain laugh. "well, we've been rooming together since we were eleven. we went to a tennis academy boarding school, and... well, let's just say we've been through everything together."

before you could stop yourself, you quickly pushed down the swig of beer you took, burning your throat, and asked, "like what? you both shared your first fuck?"

truly you'd been expecting to get a rise out of them, red faces and uneasy laughs. but, instead, they just shared another knowing look, the corners of their mouths perking up.

wally was the first to look away, chuckling to himself. "i wouldn't say that exactly, no."

"then what?"

you took this gap in the conversation to crawl forward so you were laying on your stomach, a little bit higher now up the bed. there wasn't a huge amount of space, and you were just barely grazing what was exposed of their toned thighs peeking out from beneath their tennis shorts they'd worn at the tournament.

with thicker thighs, dick's shorts were riding up, and you noticed he tensed slightly from beside you, but your eyes weren't on him.

a few beats passed before wally could respond, his lips parted slightly as he watched you, a glazed-over look in his eye like he hadn't been really in the moment. "uh..." he glanced up at dick, who didn't meet his eyes this time. "there may have been a few times we... uh... did stuff in the same room."

"that's only natural," you shrugged. then you glanced between them. "but i could tell there was something going on with you guys. you can always tell when two guys have shared intimacy like that. and you have it written all over your faces."

this time dick was the first one to look at wally, his teeth showing slightly from behind his smile, a rosy tint to his cheeks you're sure isn't the product of california summer nights; they have the window half-open, after all. he didn't speak, but you could tell you'd hit the nail on the head.

deciding the pull back a bit, you took another gulp of beer and asked a different question. "any stories to share? nothing weird, just fun."

dick let out a laugh now, a proper one. "oh, god, this guy when we were younger? such a fuckin' brat." his chest bubbled with laughter, and his blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he turned again to look at wally.

eyes always on the other.

at this, wally just huffed in a fake annoyance. "me? i could be bad, okay, everyone knew that, but dick acts like he's not, but he could be so much worse than me."

a laugh followed you now, enjoying their back-and-forth banter. "if you can't decide who's the bigger brat it's got to be both of you, then, just at the same amount."

dick gave another laugh, bottle stopping halfway to his lips just to let it out. "i like the sentiment, but it's definitely wally. everyone knows i'm an angel."

"angel with a big head," wally teased, leaning over to poke his friend in the ear with what might've been a wet finger, but was swatted eagerly away before it landed anywhere dire.

"oh, come on," you joked, nudging wally's knee lightly with your bottle. "you don't seem like such the angel yourself."

once the bottle was back up to your lips, wally poked his knee into your shoulder. "damn straight," he grinned, swigging from his own beer now.

"hey now," dick butted in, seemingly eager to have your attention back on him again. "don't let those freckles distract you. he's a cocky little bullshitter who thinks he's invincible."

turning your gaze back on him, you noted the twitch of his lips as you met eyes. "invincible? you don't think you're invincible, too? i caught a glimpse of your doubles game this morning and i'd say you're just about as much a risk-taker as he is."

dick's eyes narrowed slightly, zeroing in on you like a predator with its prey, but that small smile was still evident on his lips. "i'm calculated. i make sure of it. i don't do anything without weighing out the risks."

"what would you say the risks are now?" you asked coyly, bringing the rim of your beer bottle to your lips, where the residue of your drink glistened along your flesh. his eyes glanced down just where you wanted them to look, like he was calculating this risk.

the air was left heavy without a reply, but the intention and risk is definitely hanging down on your shoulders. the corner of your mouth twitched, and you tore your eyes away from him, finally letting the beer run down your throat as you tipped up the bottle.

from your other side, wally let out a laugh, a new red sheen to his freckled cheeks. when you moved your eyes to meet his, his efforts to avoid them became obvious, especially by the way he turned his head to the wall as he sipped at his beer.

don't say you were making him nervous.

"come on, don't say you guys can't dish it out," you laughed, watching hungrily as both boys seemed to twitch sheepishly in response. "what? have you never shared someone before?"

slowly the smiles on their faces seemed to face, but not in a way that ruined the mood — more so that something in their eyes changed, morphing into a vibrant butterfly of fire deep in the blacks of their pupils.

there it was.

the animal in their eyes boys like them get from behind a low net on a tennis court, rackets in their hands clawing at the neon green bird soaring back and forth between them and the other predators on the other side, unable to escape, for the entire forest is watching, waiting to see who reigns.

they think this is a game.

in a way, it is.

maybe here you're the tennis ball, trying to bounce off of them, waiting for someone to take your bait. or else you could trot off again back to your hotel and get your head in the game for your match tomorrow.

it all depends on them.

[thespnreferencedesk]

A Fic Writer's Guide to Bobby's House

Part 1 | Part 2: Library/Den

Click for the full-size, annotated versions of images!

Bobby's library is the unofficial home base of many of the show's earlier seasons. If you keep an eye out, you can spy a handful of objects and pieces of furniture consistently popping up over this room's many appearances, but no two episodes have them arranged the same way. It's also very often that a piece of furniture will pop up in one episode only to be gone the next. Since 4.02 reveals that Bobby has a spare storage room upstairs, it's possible that's where he keeps most of this extra furniture.

There are two main iterations of Bobby's den. The first appears during seasons 1 - 3 and features less furniture, far more books, dark brown trim instead of black, and a different wallpaper (or no wallpaper in 1.22). The new wallpaper and black trim first appear in 3.10, and they can be seen alongside the new layout in seasons 4 - 7. This iteration of the library includes a large Persian rug, ornate wooden desk, twin book shelves to the left of the fireplace, a floor lamp and bookshelf to the right of the fireplace, the red couch in front of a set of bay windows, a half bookshelf in the far left corner, and a rolltop desk in the far right.

A large Persian area rug typically sits in the center of the room except for when some type of trap is being painted on the floor. A devil's trap can be seen on the ceiling in 1.22 and 6.20. Bobby's ceiling is beige and has wooden beams that match the rest of the trim.

The heart of Bobby's library is a wood-burning fireplace with green tiled surround and a black carved mantle where Bobby keeps books and random knick-knacks. In the later seasons, these include a small bulldog statue/bookend, a pewter pitcher with tankards, two silver trophies, and a wooden antique radio. Above the fireplace is a landscape painting framed by two electric wall sconces.

Decorations aside, Bobby's fireplace is also a practical hunter's tool. It's often used as a flame source for spells, and the iron pokers and other tools make for an easy handheld weapon against ghosts and specters. In 5.04, it's revealed that the center section of the mantle hides a secret compartment where he keeps a hunting journal similar to John's.

Bobby's carved wooden desk is first seen in 4.02 and, with a few exceptions, appears consistently up until it burns with the rest of Bobby's house. Earlier episodes (3.03, 3.04) either have a simpler table in its place or no desk at all (seasons 1 - 2).

Bobby's desk is a free-standing open pedestal desk with turned legs, lower shelves, and diamond-shaped carvings. Based on the style, it's likely from the late 19th or early 20th century. Similar desks can be seen here and here. The desk also has three shallow upper drawers, two deeper drawers on each pedestal, and a green stone top that Bobby uses as a chalkboard for spells. In 5.18, it's shown that Bobby keeps his Single-Action Army revolver in one of the drawers. In 6.15, Balthazar is rummaging through Bobby's drawers and finds a saint's bone underneath a false drawer bottom.

In seasons 4 - 5, Bobby tends to use a black flexible goose-neck desk lamp. Starting in season 6, he switches this lamp for a thin, rectangular, golden brown mid-century lamp. It could be assumed that this lamp was also destroyed in the fire that burned Bobby's house, but it actually shows up in Dean's bedroom in the Bunker in later seasons. So either the Men of Letters had the same lamp, Dean found a similar one at a thrift store at some point, or he was able to recover the lamp from the ruins of Bobby's house.

In seasons 1 - 3, the corner to the left of Bobby's fireplace contained the rolltop desk, a console table, and piles of books. This layout can still be seen in 4.01, but it is replaced in 4.02 with two matching bookshelves. The more left of the two bookshelves has a black gooseneck lamp clamped onto the top shelf, and sometimes a dining chair stacked with extra books is also pushed into this corner. Inside of Bobby's mind in 7.10, these shelves also hold framed photos of Bobby with loved ones as well as a book cut out to hide an elaborate crucifix.

Along with the matching bookshelves, 4.02 places a floor lamp, chair, and upright bookcase in the corner to the right of the fire place. This chair is typically some kind of living chair but is sometimes one of the wooden dining chairs that frequently get moved around the library. Next to the bookcase, underneath the bay window, is a red couch with a faint swirl pattern, carved wooden feet, and decorative panels on the arms. Bobby also owns a matching armchair (5.18, see above), but it is not usually seen in the library.

This couch is where Sam or Dean sleep while at Bobby's. If the both of them are there, Sam takes the couch while Dean sleeps on the floor (4.02, above). A gray blanket with faint stripes pops up in a few episodes as well as a striped pillow that appears to match the pillows on the cot in the panic room and in the linen closet upstairs (4.02). Various end tables and dining chairs get moved around the couch and used as nightstands or bookshelves.

To the right of the couch is a half bookshelf and console table stacked with books. In season 5, the console table is replaced with a vintage stereo cabinet. The stereo is used as a table and sometimes holds records (5.18 - 5.21), sometimes holds drawers and books, and sometimes holds a TV (6.04). A similar stereo can be seen here, though note that Bobby's has tapered legs. Also note that the wall sconce in this corner is the only one in this room that has two lights instead of one.

A pair of black pocket doors sits at the back wall of the library and leads to the kitchen. These doors slide into the wall rather than opening in- or outward, and are typically left closed. To the right of the doors is a black double light switch.

To the right of the pocket doors are typically a dining chair stacked with books, a black trunk, an upright blueprint holder filled with maps and plans, and at various times books and a radio. When this radio isn't on the trunk, it tens to sit on top of Bobby's rolltop desk alongside one of his many desk lamps and a decanter and glassware set. This desk is also where Bobby keeps a CB radio (used in 5.10).

Like Bobby's main desk, the rolltop desk is also either likely from the early 18th or early 19th century or is a replica of a desk from that period. It's always seen open and has an assortment of small drawers, cubbies, and cabinets on the desktop. It has a center drawer, and four drawers on the pedestals, and sits on casters so it can be easily moved.

As previously mentioned, there are several variations of Bobby's library within the show. In it's first appearance in 1.22, the library didn't have it's signature red wallpaper. The first wallpaper appears in 2.14 and has a toile pattern while the second wallpaper has a look closer to a jacquard or brocade. When we see Bobby's heaven in 10.17, the wallpaper (and rug and radio and couch...) is different once again.

Sometime between seasons 3 and 4, the dark brown wood trim in Bobby's library is painted black. In season 5, while Bobby uses a wheelchair, the couch is replaced with a twin bed with wooden headboard.

Bobby's library gets neater and cozier with every episode. What is little more than a dark place to stack hundreds of books in its first appearance is, by season 7, a proper living space with multiple light sources, tchotchkes, records, a couch, and pillows. No wonder it's the place where time and time again someone is brought when they need to stay somewhere safe and familiar. After years of being alone after his wife's death, it's almost as if reconnecting with his boys motivated Bobby to finally turn his house back into a home.

[hamburgerndsprite]

TEMPTATION ON TRIAL ✓ CH 7

“He’s falsely accused. She’s legally unhinged. Together, they’re chaos in designer suits.”

➳ Pairing: Actor! Kim Seokjin x Criminal Lawyer! Oc

➳ Genre: Courtroom Chaos | Crack with Consequences | Enemies to Lovers | Legal Romance | Slow-burn & Subpoenas | Found Family but Make it Unhinged | Actor x lawyer au

Series Masterlist • Main Masterlist

Chapter 7: The Mic Didn’t Survive, and Neither Did Seri

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

The room was already vibrating with panic.

Taehyung leapt onto the couch like it was a war bunker. “We’re under attack! Where are the marshmallows?!”

Jungkook scrambled for the snack drawer, only to start ripping open protein bars like they were grenades. “Do we have a panic plan? I need a panic plan! And—wait, why am I eating this?! I hate peanut butter!”

Hoseok was already pacing the room in wide, frantic circles. “I need incense. And a lighter. And a non-disclosure agreement to sign. I DON’T KNOW WHY, JUST GIVE ME PAPER.”

Jimin stood motionless in the center of the chaos, blinking. “Should I be writing something down or screaming?”

“Both!” Taehyung shouted. “Scream in bullet points!”

“WHERE IS THE REMOTE?” Aria bellowed, spinning around like a caffeinated goddess of vengeance. “Who turned the TV off?! I want eyes on that screen NOW or I swear I’ll sue the entire electronics industry!”

“Remote! Remote! Remote!” Jungkook chanted, diving under the sofa like a man searching for the Ark of the Covenant.

“I found a spoon!” Taehyung shouted from behind the curtain.

“That’s not a remote, you feral gremlin!” Aria snapped, flinging open cabinets.

Namjoon ducked as Hoseok threw a pillow in panic. “We need the source! We need to see what we’re fighting!”

“Check the plant!” Jimin yelled.

“Why would it be in the plant?!”

“EVERYTHING’S BEEN IN THE PLANT BEFORE!”

Amid the flailing limbs and rapidly escalating hysteria, Jin muttered, “This is unbelievable,” and lunged forward—right as Aria did the same.

Their shoulders crashed. The table wobbled.

“Move, cheekbones!” Aria barked.

“You move! You’re in the way!”

“I’m trying to stop your face from dying on national television!”

“You’re elbowing me in the pancreas!”

“Good! You don’t need it for survival!”

In the heat of the struggle, Jin’s knee smacked into the power strip. With a faint click and a whimper, the TV went black.

The room went dead silent.

Aria turned slowly. “Did you—just unplug the TV.”

“It was an accident!”

“Fabulous. Why don’t you just crawl into the screen next time? Maybe there’s a magical door in there. Jump in. Go fight them live.”

“I’m not the one kicking the HDMI cable with her heels!”

“Your hair is blocking the panic signal!”

“YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT AN HDMI CABLE IS!”

“Yoongi,” Jimin whispered from under the table, “should we call 911?”

Yoongi was sitting serenely in the corner with a cushion on his head and no will to live. Without a word, he leaned forward and quietly... replugged the TV.

The screen flickered back on.

Everyone launched forward like moths to a crime scene. Limbs tangled. Knees cracked. Someone stepped on Taehyung’s scarf.

And then they saw it.

The video.

It opened with surveillance-style footage—slightly grainy, but framed too perfectly to be accidental. The location: a back hallway on a drama set, dimly lit, isolated, no crew in sight.

Seri was leaning against a wall, arms folded tightly across her chest, her face pale and stiff.

Jin stepped into frame from the left, stopping just in front of her.

There was no audio at first—just silence and the hum of static, which somehow made it worse.

Seri took a step back.

The footage zoomed, cropped tighter.

Jin raised a hand. Paused. Said something. The gesture could’ve been innocent. Could’ve been not. But there was no context, only the framing, only the silence, and the look on Seri’s face.

A second camera angle cut in—handheld this time. Blurry, shaky. She looked cornered. He looked close. Too close.

Then the audio kicked in.

Muffled, distant.

“Don’t walk away,” Jin’s voice said. Calm. Too calm.

Seri’s voice trembled: “Please, don’t touch me—”

He didn’t. Not on camera. But he stepped forward again.

She flinched.

Another cut.

Her hand lifted, shielding her chest.

“Stop,” she whispered.

The camera lingered on her, breathing hard, then cut to black.

A beat of silence.

One word on the screen: “Evidence.”

No dramatic music. Just stillness. The kind that felt like it sucked the air out of the room.

Jungkook’s mouth hung open.

Taehyung blinked slowly, like he wasn’t sure if he’d seen a movie or a murder.

Hoseok muttered, “What the hell was that?” but it came out dry and hollow.

Namjoon and Yoongi didn’t move.

And every single person in the room turned toward Jin.

Even if they didn’t mean to. Even if they didn’t want to. Even if it was only for a heartbeat.

Except Aria.

She didn’t turn. Didn’t look. Not once.

She was still watching the screen like it owed her blood.

Jin felt the weight of all the eyes, and it landed like iron. He wasn’t even sure why he was surprised. Of course they’d look. They had to. It looked real. Hell, if he hadn’t been there, he might’ve believed it too. His fingers were stiff. Cold. Like they didn’t belong to him.

He wanted to speak. To yell. To say “That’s not what happened.”

But the silence came first.

Then Aria’s voice.

“Stop looking at him,” she said sharply, eyes still locked on the screen. “Look at the fucking video.”

Everyone flinched.

Yoongi adjusted his cushion. Namjoon exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. Hoseok looked like he was about to apologize for existing.

But Jin just stared at her.

No one had said anything to him yet. No accusations. No defense. Just air. But the way she'd said it—without hesitation, without doubt, without even bothering to glance his way—cut through the static like a blade. Like she didn’t need to ask what really happened. Like she already knew.

And God help him, he would never admit it out loud—but it steadied him. Just a little. Just enough.

Aria took one step forward and crossed her arms.

“Let’s start with the framing,” she said, sharp and sure. “That hallway doesn’t have that camera angle. It’s too far from the wall. There’s no space for a setup unless someone built a whole-ass dolly track in a janitor closet.”

Namjoon nodded. “The depth’s wrong. Lens distortion’s too wide for the architecture.”

Yoongi had already plugged his phone into the TV and was freeze-framing the footage. “Pause at frame sixty-two. Watch her wrist.”

“Her what?”

“Her wrist,” he repeated. “It jumps half a foot between frames. That’s a bad splice.”

“Audio jump at 0:13,” Namjoon added, scribbling something on the back of a burrito wrapper. “Compression’s off. That line? ‘Please, don’t touch me—’? It’s from an earlier scene. It’s not synced to her lips.”

Jimin was perched on the table, scribbling furiously in a glittery notebook that said “Legally Unhinged.” He flipped a page. “So far we’ve got: spatial inconsistency, lens distortion, bad splice, Franken-audio, and emotionally manipulative lighting.”

Meanwhile, the Chaos Quad (patent pending) stood rooted in a corner of the room, watching in awe as the nerds annihilated a national broadcast like it was a YouTube essay takedown.

Taehyung watched them all with wide eyes.

“Are they... doing surgery?” he whispered.

“Why is it sexy?” Jungkook asked, still clutching the protein bar like it was a rosary.

Hoseok grabbed popcorn he didn’t remember popping. “I feel like I’m at a live autopsy.”

“They’re cutting it apart,” Jungkook whispered, eyes darting between Yoongi’s fast fingers and Namjoon’s furious scribbling. “Like—like real lawyers.”

“They are real lawyers,” Jin said.

“Yeah, but now they’re hot and terrifying,” Taehyung whispered.

“Shhh!” Jimin hissed, holding up a sticky note. “Aria’s about to say something damning.”

She pointed to the corner of the paused screen.

“That wall? That’s not the same hallway paint. They cloned the shadows to make it match, but they forgot the door moldings. Jin wasn’t even on set that day. His wardrobe’s from episode six. That scene was episode four.”

Namjoon looked up, blinking. “Wait, how do you—”

“I keep receipts, names, photos, timestamps, and one petty little folder called ‘Shady Shit People Thought I’d Miss.’”

Yoongi clapped once. “Queen behavior.”

Then Hoseok’s phone buzzed.

He frowned.

Checked.

Froze.

“Oh...oh, fuck me sideways.”

“Language,” Namjoon muttered.

“No, you don’t get to grammar me right now. This is DEFCON one.” Hobi waved the phone like it was a white flag doused in gasoline. “Someone from my source chain just tipped me. Seri and Chairman Kwon are arranging a live press conference. Full broadcast. Thirty minutes.”

The air cracked.

“WHAT?!” Jimin shrieked, spinning so fast he knocked over his iced latte and didn’t even blink.

“Thirty?!” Jungkook’s voice hit a register only dogs could hear. “That’s barely enough time to shower!”

“They’re doing it live?” Namjoon’s tone was pure panic. “We haven’t even confirmed the raw metadata!”

“They’re going to crucify him,” Taehyung said, voice faint. “Live. Publicly. And we can’t stop them.”

“We don’t even have a counter-narrative,” Hoseok gasped. “We’re unarmed. We’re unarmed and Jin is in pajamas—”

“I’m not in pajamas,” Jin said automatically. He was. Technically.

He could see it—comments already flooding, headlines half-written, hashtags mutating. The video looked real. It felt real. And now they’d speak it into truth before anyone had time to dissect the lie.

His pulse thundered in his ears.

“They’re going to eat me alive,” he said quietly.

Taehyung looked at him, panicked. “Hyung, breathe—”

Jungkook grabbed his sleeve. “We’ll fix it! Right? Hyung, they’re lying—we’ll fix it—”

Yoongi didn’t look up. “She’s cornering him. This is surgical.”

Aria exhaled. Just once. Then tossed her pen to the ground like it had committed a crime.

She turned.

Smiled.

Not kindly.

“Oh,” she said, the smile widening. “This bitch didn’t just start a war.”

The room spun toward her like the Earth had tilted.

She turned on her heel, hair whipping with final-boss precision. “Jimin.”

“Y-Yes, Commander?”

“Bag. Mic. Files. Eyeliner.”

“Uh—do I need bail money?”

“Probably.”

“Do I need lip gloss?”

“Definitely.”

“Do I need shoes?”

“You should already be wearing shoes!”

Jimin squeaked, grabbed a muffin instead, and chased after her like a legally terrified duckling.

As the elevator doors opened, Hoseok whispered, “She’s actually going.”

Namjoon stared. “She doesn’t even have a—”

“Don’t say it,” Yoongi interrupted.

“But—”

“She doesn’t need a plan,” Yoongi muttered. “She is the plan.”

And then the doors slid shut.

And the storm left.

Taking the eye of it with her.

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

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

If hell had a green room, it would look exactly like the press holding area in downtown Seoul’s Ritz Grand Ballroom. Rows of camera tripods stood like judgmental sentinels, news anchors reapplied their fake concern with matte powder, and a single podium loomed ahead like the scaffold for a public execution. Just far enough from the crowd to make walking to it feel like a death march.

And into this chaos, Aria Sterling walked like she was born in heels and hostility.

Behind her, Jimin trailed nervously, clutching a water bottle like it was a holy relic. His ID badge was flipped backward. His shirt had a panic sweat stain that spelled “regret.”

“Okay,” he whispered. “I did a headcount. Four major outlets. One lifestyle tabloid. And—there’s an influencer who brought her dog. She barked at me.”

“The influencer or the dog?”

“...Yes.”

Aria didn’t blink. She was already watching Seri and Chairman Kwon step up to the opposite podium. They looked like PR warlords ready for battle. Seri wore a floor-length dress like she was accepting a humanitarian award. Kwon had the benign smile of a man who once drowned a village and claimed it was for irrigation.

“Jesus,” Jimin murmured. “They look confident. Do we have a plan?”

“No,” Aria said. “But I have rage, eyeliner, and a microphone.”

“You’re terrifying.”

“That’s why you love me.”

And then the lights shifted. The hum crescendoed. Seri took the stage like a porcelain martyr prepped to sob on cue.

“Thank you for coming,” she began, voice delicate and trembling just enough to be believable. “This... is not easy for me. I never wanted this to become public. But in light of recent developments—” her voice broke, right on schedule, “—I feel I must speak my truth.”

Cameras zoomed. Tissues were dabbed. Sympathy practically oozed from the press bench like stage fog.

“I was cornered,” she whispered. “Off-camera. Off-script. I didn’t know what to do. I was frozen. And when I finally walked away, I thought it was over.”

Beside her, Kwon patted her back like a proud arsonist comforting his favorite fire.

Back at the firm, Taehyung stood directly in front of the big TV like a disgruntled Vogue cover. “She’s wearing a sympathy neckline. I want to scream.”

“Sit down, Vogue,” Yoongi growled from behind a barricade of laptops. “Aria’s about to turn this room into a war memorial.”

“She doesn’t even have proof,” Namjoon muttered, shifting his glasses. “What can she say that’ll hold up?”

“She’s Aria,” Hoseok said simply, eyes wide. “She’ll make the facts hold her purse while she destroys lives.”

Jungkook stared at the screen, unmoving. “Hyung hasn’t blinked.”

Namjoon followed his gaze.

Jin sat forward, elbows on knees, jaw clenched. Still. Like the air was pressing against him from every side.

There was no fear in his eyes.

Just that look—like he was memorizing every breath she took.

At the Ritz, a poor intern handed Aria the mic. He’d later describe the experience as “making eye contact with a panther in a courtroom.”

She took one slow step to the podium.

Smile: non-existent. Mood: venom in heels.

“Thank you for your performance,” Aria said flatly, voice honeyed with poison. “Now, if the dramatic monologue is over, can we move on to the part where facts matter?”

Seri blinked. Kwon shifted. The press leaned forward like sinners at confession.

Seri tilted the mic, her voice feigning curiosity. “I’m sorry, and you are?”

The reporters all turned—some slowly, some already whispering. The ones who recognized the name were halfway to cardiac arrest.

Aria’s smile came sharp and small, the kind that killed you before you noticed you were bleeding.

“Oh,” she said sweetly, “how rude of me.”

She took a single step forward, eyes gleaming like a knife in candlelight.

“Aria Sterling,” she said, her tone like a velvet blade. “Criminal defense attorney. Licensed in three countries. Expert in high-profile litigation, courtroom theatrics, and occasionally, character assassination when morally required.”

The room tensed. Cameras clicked faster.

“I’m also,” she added, “the legal representation of Kim Seokjin. Which, I know,” she leaned forward just slightly, voice dropping to something darker, more delicious, “is shocking. Since I don’t usually waste my time on celebrity circus trials.”

She paused, letting that land.

“But I made an exception this once... because it’s not every day a nation gets bamboozled by PowerPoint-level propaganda and a fourth-rate actress with a first-rate ego.”

There was a visible jolt. Reporters sat straighter. Phones lifted higher.

At the podium, Aria’s smile cooled.

“But don’t worry,” she added, “I’ll speak slowly. I know this must be overwhelming—especially for those of you who assumed this press conference would be a one-woman show and not the opening scene of your public downfall.”

Gasps. Laughter. One reporter audibly said, “Oh my god.”

Seri’s face paled. Kwon’s jaw clenched.

“Ms. Sterling,” a reporter asked, eyeing her like she was a freshly unsheathed blade, “do you have a prepared statement?”

“Oh, I don’t do prepared,” Aria said, smiling like a guillotine. “I do correct.”

Seri offered a breathy, camera-soft smile—one that trembled just enough to suggest emotional nobility. “I don’t think this is the appropriate time—”

“I agree,” Aria snapped. “The appropriate time was when you accused someone without even managing to lie believably.”

Gasps. A flurry of camera clicks. The flashbulbs practically tripped over themselves.

Kwon opened his mouth, eyes glinting.

“Nope,” Aria said instantly, jabbing a manicured finger in his direction. “You don’t get to lawyer this. You’re not even a real lawyer. You’re just a villain with a golf club.”

Seri stiffened. “This isn’t a performance.”

“No,” Aria said flatly. “It’s an audition. And unfortunately for you, I’ve seen better monologues from a shampoo commercial.”

Seri tried again, voice strained now. “The footage is real. The emotions were real. What happened was real.”

“Oh, was it?” Aria purred. “Let’s break that down, shall we? Your ‘damning’ evidence conveniently cuts before the audio begins. Jin’s expression is taken out of context, the angle shifts twice mid-scene, and somehow your makeup magically resets between takes. But sure. Very authentic.”

Reporters murmured.

“Do you have the original footage?” another journalist asked.

Aria tilted her head. “No. Because if I did, Seri would’ve tripped over her own timeline three lies ago. But don’t worry—your edits gave us plenty. Especially the part where the lighting changes without the camera angle shifting. Is that emotional distress or just bad VFX?”

Jimin, backstage, was now hyperventilating into a water bottle like it owed him money.

“Did she just insult VFX artists?”

“No,” whispered a staffer beside him. “She insulted the entire post-production industry.”

“You have no proof this footage is fake,” Kwon barked.

Aria turned to him slowly, like a panther finally deciding which throat to bite.

“You have no proof it’s real,” she said. “If you did, we’d be in court right now. Instead, we’re here, hosting a pity party with snacks and sobs.”

Back at the firm, Yoongi whispered, “She’s bleeding them dry with metaphors.”

“She’s stabbing them with words,” Hoseok added, breathless.

“Death by grammar,” Taehyung confirmed.

Namjoon put down his marker. “I’m aroused and afraid.”

Live, Kwon stepped forward. “Let’s remember why we’re here. A young woman is speaking out about trauma.”

Aria stalked a few steps forward, eating camera angles like candy

“Oh, let’s absolutely remember,” She said coolly. “Let’s remember that no police report has been filed. Let’s remember that this press conference was scheduled before any legal channels were used. Let’s remember that you tried to convict a man in the court of public opinion because you knew the real court would ask too many inconvenient questions.”

More murmuring. A few gasps. One reporter straightened like they were about to write a whole op-ed in real time.

“You’re diverting attention,” Kwon said stiffly. “This isn’t about editing tricks. This is about his actions.”

“No,” Aria said. “It’s about your lack of proof. You uploaded a movie trailer, called it evidence, and expected the world to applaud. And they almost did—because fear sells faster than facts. But here’s the problem with selling lies: someone eventually checks the receipt.”

Seri stepped forward, voice shaking now—but the tremble wasn’t performative anymore. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

“No,” Aria said, voice dipped in velvet steel. “I’m trying to warn you. I haven’t even started being scary.”

And then she smiled. God help them, she smiled like she’d already won.

“You really want to take this to court?” Her voice sliced through the air like a whip. “Be my guest. But bring better footage. Better lies. Hell—bring a better editor. Because as long as I’m on Kim Seokjin’s defense, I promise you this: I will drag every frame, every line, every carefully curated silence until your entire story collapses under the weight of its own fiction.”

Kwon looked like he wanted to say something. Seri opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Aria stepped closer to the mic, voice quiet now, lethal in its stillness.

“This trial won’t end with a headline. It’ll end with a reckoning. So go ahead. Walk into that courtroom with your smudged mascara and your shaky footage. I’ll be waiting—with a cross-examination that makes national history.”

Pause.

“And Seri?” Aria added, eyes narrowing just a fraction.

“Next time you try to ruin someone’s life, make sure they don’t have me on speed dial.”

Boom.

Aria didn’t wait for the applause.

She turned from the mic like she was leaving a crime scene she didn’t regret, shoved it into the intern’s arms, and said with complete calm: “Congratulations. You now have trauma and a story for Tinder.”

The intern made a sound like a small dying bird. Jimin grabbed her bag, dropped his clipboard, picked up the bag again, and power-walked after her like a pageant assistant who’d forgotten to breathe.

“I was incredible, right?” Aria muttered.

“Terrifying. You made a cameraman cry.”

“He deserved it.”

They didn’t rush. They floated. Coat flaring. Heels sharp. Reporters scrambling to catch up like gremlins chasing a goddess.

“Ms. Sterling—do you have evidence?”

“What’s your next move?!”

“Are you legally allowed to insult post-production teams on-air?!”

Aria didn’t answer. Just raised a single hand in the air.

Middle finger, delicately extended.

Jimin choked. “MA’AM—”

Behind them, Seri stepped back up to the podium like she still had control of the room. She did not.

“W-we’re not here to play games,” she stammered, blinking rapidly. “We’re here to expose—”

“—how bad your editing team is?” one reporter called.

“She literally just dismantled your timeline,” another added.

A third shouted, “Do you have a real version of the footage? Like... without jump cuts and soap opera lighting?”

Seri’s jaw twitched. Kwon stepped in, stone-faced. “This conference is adjourned. We will be taking legal—”

“Did she say ‘nationwide reckoning’ or was I hallucinating?” a reporter yelled.

“I think she said ‘bamboozled by PowerPoint.’ I want that on a T-shirt.”

“We’re done,” Kwon barked.

“No further questions.”

The reporters did not care. The press line cracked like a dam. Everyone shouted at once. One man literally tripped trying to chase Aria for a quote. Jimin yanked her into the waiting elevator like they were escaping a riot.

As the doors closed, he wheezed, “Are we going to jail?”

Aria blew on her nails.

“Please,” she said. “They should pay me for that performance.”

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Previous • Series Masterlist • Next

[vicodini]

Title: The Winner Takes It All

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Ship: Gregory House / Robert Chase

Timeline: Mid-to-late Season 1 (post “Detox” but before “Three Stories”)

It was as simple and plain as it came, and yet Chase couldn't understand why he was complaining and about what. He didn't wanna talk to House, but he had to for his job. Neither of them had spoken and yet he felt as if they already had played all their cards and there were no aces to play anymore.  

Chase sighed deeply as he sat in the old grayed chair that was used to be white in House's office. The night was quiet, except for the rain clattering against the windows. Why hadn't he left? He didn't know, it had long been past twelve am and he was sitting staring holes in the wall behind the glass. 

"Unless you're here to donate a kidney or confess to murder, I'm not interested.” House who was barely in the room spoke. Chase slowly looked up at him, following House, who limped over to his desk's chair and sat down on the thing. 

Chase averted his eyes, closing them, "Just thinking. About stuff I don’t really want to say out loud." It's not like House would care about it, anyway. House didn't do empathy, or love, nor did he believe people. House rolled his eyes as he put his feet on his desk. 

"Chase go home," House ordered as he opened his Nintendo DS, the sounds of Super Mario playing. Chase swallowed nervously and stood up. Turning to the door with his hand on the handle, he glanced over his shoulder at House, who seemed engrossed in his game. The room was dimly lit, with the only source of light being the screen of the handheld device. Chase hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next. The tension in the air was palpable, and he could feel House's piercing gaze on him.

 "I didn’t think you’d be this blind. Guess I was wrong,”House barely looked over the top of the handheld, a frown caressing his forehead for a second. Chase had thought that he had House'sHouse's attention, but then House went back to his game. "You only show up when it serves you. The rest of the time? We’re just background noise.” Chase turned around againfully now facing House. He with a few big strides stood right in front of House's desk placing, no, slamming down his hands on the tables.

“What is it Chase? You've got the sudden need for daddy’s approval? Wrong office.” Chase groaned. He should've known that house would be like this. He grabbed House by his collar, causing house's handheld to fall onto the floor as he pulled the older man and kissed him. The kiss was rough, desperate and uncountable but expected and the only way to shut up House. Not to shut him, but to make clear what Chase was trying to tell him. House gasped, surprised, then melted into it.

maybe a part 2 will come.

[weeeeeekly]

the inheritance – hybrid!ot5 txt x human gn!reader

🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾

blurb !!! Your grandmother left behind her home to you in her will. As a recent college grad, you take on the responsibilities – you never expected to find 5 hybrids living in your new home

info !!! gender neutral pronouns for reader, no reader body shape mention, no use of y/n, non-idol au, hybrid au, strangers to lovers, ot5 txt x reader, kinda a/b/o, inspired by the monster’s bride webtoon, ppulbatu, & txt lore (please do not ask me about it bcuz I don’t know anyyyythingg)

WARNINGS !!! SFW but MDNI 18+ blog, swearing, not proofread just pure free flowing thought, wouldn’t recommend reading if you were close to your grandmother, she passed away, & are still grieving

wc 1.8k

author’s note !!! if you don’t like it – don’t read it!

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CHAPTER ONE

Your last semester at college had been a confusing time as your workload was light yet you couldn’t chill out. The stress of not knowing what your future would hold kept you up at night when you could have dreamt about what you could be doing right now.

Thank fuck, you had your shit together and got all your credits to graduate. Your graduation was nothing special – you sat with the rest of the graduates in your specific program who you knew none of them. A few faces were familiar from being in the same classes but never spoke a word to them. You faked a smile as you crossed the stage to accept the blank diploma cover and pose with the dean. One of your parents showed up to congratulate you afterwards but not without berating you for not doing better to win an award or something. You tuned the noise out as you could breathe a little better after finally completing a majority of your schooling.

Now, only grad school stood in the way between you and a good paying job. Which was your new source of stress.

It also didn’t help that you were the new owner of your late grandmother’s house.  

A house that just happened to be a fucking mansion. No one else – in your immediate or extended family – wanted the burden of having to care take of the massive property. And it’s had a hard time selling for years after your grandmother had to move back home after you started your freshman year.

The last time you were here was the day you graduated high school. You used to run around in the front yard and imagine you were a fairy. When you got older, your grandmother bought a stone bench that you sat and read on throughout middle school – where all of your favorite stories felt like the pinnacle of literature. Now the front yard is full of overgrown grass and weeds, the stone bench was swallowed up by a bush, and what once felt magical just fills you with dread.

Letting out a massive sigh, you open the backseat door to grab your suitcase and duffel bag then locking your car. Tonight, you would sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor and unpack your immediate necessities and tomorrow after work you would get the rest of your things from your parents’ house.

All you wanted to do right now was take a shower, wear your favorite sleep shirt and leggings, eat some fast food, and then go on your laptop for far too long that you’ll regret not going to sleep early in the morning. Honestly, it was your favorite routine.

Not too much overgrown grass and weeds covered the walkway from the driveway to the front door, so you were able to maneuver your way while carrying your bags. You fish the skeleton key from your pocket and unlock the door. You’re immediately hit with the smell of mildew and dust, causing you to sneeze. Turning on your handheld flashlight you step inside and close the door.

The should of footsteps makes you take a pause from walking farther into the empty foyer and toward the downstairs bathroom. The cartoony way you whip your head in the direction of where the noise may have come from is comical, and the way your body turns in the direction of the stairwell to go upstairs to your childhood room.

Dropping your suitcase and duffel to the floor, you open the door to see that your room was untouched with all of your items intact. You guess no one wanted to fight over owning a bunk bed that housed old twin mattresses, a beat-up white dresser covered in stickers, a full-length mirror that had a crack in it, and a plastic foldable table. You go to your closet to see if there were any bedding you could use but you’re greeted with emptiness.

You take it back – all of your childhood clothes, toys, and anything else that wasn’t furniture was gone. Probably dibbed by your family members to take if they weren’t already included in the will. You feel a wave of sadness that one of your parents didn’t try to keep any of your clothes or toys from when you were younger since the second you outgrew something they either sold it in a garage sale, sent it to one of your younger cousins, or stored them here.

What if you wanted to keep that tie dye shirt you wore on your first day of school for kindergarten, 1st, and 2nd grade or that one generic princess doll you carried around from 2 until 8 years old. Maybe you were sentimental or just selfish but as you unpacked your stuff to lay out on the dresser you just felt sad.

🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾

After begging the water company to turn back on the water, you took a long shower, changed into your sleeping clothes, and ate your cold fast food. You refill your reusable water bottle with the portable water cooler you brought. The sun has set an hour ago, so it was peak time to snuggle up in your makeshift bed and read or watch a movie on your laptop. As you’re exiting the kitchen, a bottle of cleaning spray falls to the ground, scaring you. A pair of mismatched eyes stare back at you.

“Oh my god. You scared me.” You hug your chest as the glowing eyes come closer and appear as a dark gray cat with three paws approaches you. Kneeling down to let the cat sniff your hand before petting them.

“Aww, pretty kitty.” You say as the cat purrs against your leg.

Another pair of glowing eyes appears from the entrance of the formal dining room beyond the kitchen, you continue petting the cat as a maltese walks over to you. You allow the dog to sniff your hand as it begins to nuzzle its nose against your outstretched hand.

They’re both well maintained, so they must have an owner within the neighborhood, but you have no idea how they got in. Maybe through the basement since you hadn’t checked down there yet, but all the windows on the outside were still fully intact. You could look around if there were any missing pet posters or online – the pair seemed comfortable around each other, so you think they came from the same home.

A third pair of glowing eyes gets your attention and as you’re extending a free hand to another lost cat or dog – a fennec fox appears freaking you out.

“Oh my god.”

You abruptly stand up which in turn causes the cat and dog to get scared and run off. You stare back at the fox who begins walking closer to you. You can’t deal with this. If this fox was owned by someone it probably wasn’t legal since this is an exotic animal. Then you would have to call animal control or wildlife trapping because you didn’t want to get in trouble. And you’re pretty sure this kind of fox is not native to North America, which is a whole other issue that you really don’t want to deal with right now.

But of course, you can’t have a moment of peace as a samoyed and golden retriever trot in with a shared toy in their mouths.

You’re laying on the floor inside your sleeping bag in your room as two big dogs share the bottom bunk and the small dog, cat, & fox are sharing the top bunk. It seems like they formed a little pack with each other for however long they’ve been staying in your grandmother’s home.

You tried to run upstairs to get away from the fox, but instead you were followed by the 5 creatures up to your room and made the bed theirs. You weren’t going to complain as you wouldn’t even sit on the old bed without changing the mattress first, so they could make it their home for the night.

Weirdly, you feel bad if you went on your laptop while they were sleeping despite them being animals. As you close your eyes to let sleep overtake you, you begin thinking of all the things you have added to your to do list.

🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾・・・🐾

Waking up to something laying on you is alarming, especially when that something is a leg connected to a 6-foot-tall man and his pretty face is inches from yours. Scrambling out of your sleeping bag like a caterpillar into a butterfly, you shove his leg off of you and arm yourself with your metal water bottle and 9-1-1 dialed.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“A strange man broke into my house sleeping next to me.”

At the sound of my voice, the stranger wakes up and smiles at me. The voice of the dispatch fades as you see 2 more strange men asleep on the bottom bunk and the animals nowhere in sight. You quickly walk out of your room and the bathroom next door and lock yourself in.

“Actually, there’s THREE strange men inside my house sleeping near me.”

“Okay. What’s your address?”

“It’s 822 Mirage—”

The shower curtain is ripped from the rod and a pretty blonde tackles you to the ground making you drop the call.

You start screaming on the floor as shield your face from the strange man that might kill you as tries shushing you even having the audacity to put his large hand over your mouth.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I was sleeping in the tub but then I heard you calling 9-1-1 and we can’t have that so that was the best way to get your phone away and now I’m rambling, I’m really sorry!”

Tears stream down your faces as you’re forced to listen to him.

“Will you promise to not scream if I take my hand off your mouth?”

You feebly nod as he slowly removes his hand from you. You continue crying and sniffling as he stares at you. Both of your hands snap in the direction of the door when various pleads are coming through the other side of the door.

“Please let us explain!”

“We’re not going to hurt you!”

“Hyuka, did you make them cry?”

“It’s a long story, but we hope you’ll listen.”

You take the opportunity, while you both are frozen in place and he’s distracted, to knee him in the dick and escape out the window.

He kneels over whimpering as you’re using all your strength to pry open the window and climb out onto the roof. You manage to get 3/4 of your body out of the window when a hand grips your ankle, keeping you in place. Looking back, you see the creeper that was sleeping next to you holding you back as 4 other heads stare at you with the saddest expressions ever.

A new face you don’t recognize says your name, “This wasn’t how we wanted to formally meet you, but please come back inside so we can explain to you everything.”

masterlist | next

author’s note !!! my birthday gift to you! shocker… i wrote another txt fic. what can i say ??? i’m a moa first, human second. & i do believe that each of tubatu’s rep emojis embody them perfectly, but ppulbatu just came out & i couldn’t resist !!!

last thing, if the format looks fucked up i had to write this on my phone so pleaseee be kind to me

[autolenaphilia]

I got a Steam Deck last year, and it’s such a great machine. It’s obviously inspired by Nintendo Switch, but it’s a lot better than a Switch.

The most important part is that it runs PC games. It’s fundamentally a Linux gaming PC in the form of a handheld console. There are a lot more games available than any console and and PC games both on Steam and GOG are a lot cheaper than console ones. You can get old or indie games for as cheap as 1-3 euro during sales. It’s a tremendous advantage for the deck over its console competitors.

And while the obvious intent of the deck is to get more people to buy games from Steam, it isn’t a walled garden at all. The deck launches into Steam when you boot it up, but you can go into desktop mode, and then it functions as a normal PC running a Linux distro. From there you can install Lutris or Heroic Games Launcher, and use it to easily install games you bought from GOG and Itch.io.

You can also do things like use the official dock or an unofficial usb-c hub to hook the deck up to a monitor, mouse and keyboard to use it as a desktop PC. Or you can hook it up to a tv to use it as home console.

The hardware is also a lot more powerful than a switch, the demanding triple-a games it can play is actually impressive. Although this comes with the natural disadvantage that it’s bulkier too. Putting more powerful PC parts demands more space for them. The deck is not something I bring with me outside. But then again I didn’t even do that with the 3DS, which was actually of a practical size to do that. The deck is portable enough that I can comfortably play lying in bed, which is how I always used my handheld consoles. So it’s perfect for me, but maybe not if you want to play it on the bus or something. It can probably be a fun addition to your luggage on longer trips though.

Of course, as mentioned, the Steam Deck uses Linux. This has both advantages and disadvantages. The main advantage is that it allows Valve to customize the operating system to make it fit with the machine it’s running on. The Deck’s SteamOS feels really well-integrated into the hardware, like how a proper console OS should be like. It’s not that dissimilar to how Sony used FreeBSD to make Playstation’s OS. Windows would not allow for this amount of customization and would not integrate as well.

And the open source nature of most Linux development allows Valve and the user to use existing open-source Linux software to their advantage. For example, the desktop mode is largely not a Valve creation, it’s an existing desktop environment for Linux, KDE Plasma. Yet it extends what the user can do with the deck to a great extent, like for installing non-steam games.

The main disadvantage to the Deck using Linux is that most PC games are built for Windows and don’t run natively under Linux. To run games built for Windows, the Deck has to run it through Proton, a compatibility layer which is Valve’s own gaming-focused version of Wine. Wine/Proton is far from perfect, sometimes games require extensive tinkering to work, or only run with serious issues, or don’t run at all, no matter what you do. Sometimes a game not working with Wine due to some random but serious issue that comes naturally from running a Windows executable on a Linux system via a compatibility layer. Sometimes it’s due to things like a multiplayer’s game anti-cheat system requiring access to the Windows kernel, and it will block a Linux pc from running the game because it has no Windows kernel.

This is however not as big a problem as it might otherwise be. Most games work, more or less. Valve has put a lot of work and money into both their own Proton and the Wine project as a whole, and they work a lot better than they did 10 years ago. Many run perfectly out of the box, because they are native, or play nice with Proton. Some require mere minor tinkering, like using a different version of Proton. And I generally don’t play multiplayer games, or if I do they don’t have draconian anti-cheats, so the games that are blocked because of anti-cheat are no big loss to me. The Steam Deck not running Fortnite is a plus in my book.

And we shouldn’t forget the Steam Deck verified system. Basically Valve employees check if the game runs out of the box with no issues on the Deck. They get a verified rating if they work with no issue, including both proton compatibility but also things like the controls working nice and the text being legible on the deck’s small screen. They also get a “playable” rating if the game runs to an acceptable standard but with tinkering required or other minor issues.

This is a good system. If you dislike tinkering, you can just buy and play games on steam with a verified rating, and the deck will work like a normal console for you, but with a lot cheaper games. It’s a good way to get people used to consoles into PC gaming, which is probably the point of the Deck.

And if you want more than deck verified games from Steam on the Deck, you are given the freedom to do it. I’ve gotten officially non-supported steam games to run on the deck by installing and using proton-GE and I’ve installed and played games from GOG.

The Steam Deck is really how a Linux PC for the common people should work. An easy and slick experience for casual users, but freedom and customization given to those that want it.

[albatris]

Hi! Question. Found your blog through a screenshot regarding someone named Kai being legally dead as a gender (yes. absolutely yes best gender.) and I was wondering what that’s from and where I can read it?

Hi! :D

That excerpt is from my novel "All the Doors are Open" which is about four kids dealing with cracks in the fabric of reality. There's Tris, who's just been the sole witness to the car accident that caused his older brother to blip out of existence, Sung-won, who is developing peculiar reality-bending powers, Shara, who is tracking the source of the apocalypse through her handheld radio, and Kai, who is facing the social and emotional repercussions of losing seven years of their life to a time loop :3

It's a passion project of mine but it's not complete yet, so unfortunately I don't have it available to read anywhere at the moment :c it's been on the backburner while I work on finishing a different, equally queer project, but I'll come back to it at some point!

Thank you for the interest!!

[accio-victuuri]

cpn talk: of camping fans, the number 38 and future concerts.

happy monday to everyone! ^^ what better way to start the week than some clowning. i hope this makes it easier for you to get through the day and rest of the week. nothing too ground breaking, just some good old minor cpns i picked up here and there. enjoy~ and yes i used that gif of gege as clickbait! hahahahaha!

i wanna start with a usual observation, the way they do not clash in terms of project promotions. in the past weeks, WoF was in full swing, and now it’s FPU which will most likely continue till it’s release and the week after that. in the meantime, XZ is on radio silence. you still have the usual ads and stock photos from XZS + some random hot searches but nothing else. i have a feeling that after Bobo’s promotions, XZ will come out for LOCH.

and speaking of XZS posting photos, let me direct you to this one. he is holding a fan again. not the 380 yuan but we’ve seen it before and he is using it during his drama filming right now.

so as the clowns that we are, we had to search for it so we can get the same style. how it’s describe on online markets is: F30 handheld rechargeable small fan mini portable wind power household. carry-on fan for camping. camping? interesting. of course you can use outside of that, but with our cpn of them and camping— this is yet another clue. did the same guy who bought him the 380 yuan fan before, searched up something his beloved can use for camping and beyond? they are so cute! i swear! i’m here for this whole soft era of them loving camping and relaxing!

bonus clowning is that the photoset form XZS was posted 19:30 which was the broadcast time for WoF. and considering it was the finale, maybe this was also ZZ’s gift? we already speculate that he is fond of lai lai so it could be…. 🤷🏻‍♀️

moving on to the number 38, which was a recurring number we have noticed from posts made sunday 4/7. 38 zhan bo. 💕 it could mean nothing but somehow, it got me, especially since yibo used it.

video uploaded by ybo is 01:38 and yibo posted 10:38.

now about the future concert of yibo which i screamed about here & here — whether that’s true or not— us cpfs will of course do what we do best. to clown. so here are some points:

1. some are connecting this concert thing to a previous hs related to xz. it was about him and his company adding services which includes concerts. the actual tag was: #xiaozhanstudio adds new commercial performance license#. of course whatever this is, if yibo does hold a concert, it will be under yuehua but i understand where the clowning is coming from.

this comment was so hilarious tho 😂😂😂😂

2. what if yibo invites guests? that’s usual for solo concerts. so we’ve been day dreaming about him singing bu wang, and why not wuji too? and then invite xiao zhan? imagine that. lol. and solos couldn’t even be angry cause wyb invited him. wouldn’t that be amazing?

3. this part in one of xzs vlogs where gg was in an open area and he “jokingly” said something like “Come to my concert, thank you!”

we may be thinking too much about it but what if. what if gege also plans to have a solo concert some time in the future? i know both of them are so focused on being actors but they also have so much passion for performing.

i’m imagining how they both have a bucket list and one entry there is to have a solo concert. i hope we get to witness that come true ✨

FINALLY, with yibo’s post earlier, we saw him playing tennis. so tennis boyfriends at it again! 🎾

video source

END.

[utopicwork]

Cool FPGA project

[seniorpollinationtechnician]

The ORION team stumbled across a previously undiscovered planet during a routine atmospheric probe. Their spacecraft, equipped with advanced long-range scanners, detected unusual energy signatures emanating from an uncharted region of space. Initially, the readings were faint and erratic but as they drew closer, the signals grew stronger and more distinct, piquing their curiosity. That next morning, before the debriefing, each team member meticulously prepared for the mission. Jorlan started by running diagnostics on all their devices. While waiting, he delved into the latest data collected from their recent missions and analyzed the raw data streams in order to compile the data into a series of comprehensive reports, complete with visualizations to make the information more accessible for the team. Zerath began his day long before anyone else with a demanding training session. Afterward, he reviewed the latest intelligence reports with Zyri. He considered various scenarios they might encounter, from ambushes to environmental hazards, and outlined responses for each. Meanwhile, Zyri tried to decipher the energy signatures to no avail. Velana spent the morning in the laboratory where she conducted final analyses on biological samples collected from their latest expedition. Each observation was carefully documented, contributing to the growing body of knowledge about the new life forms they encountered. Despite extensive records, there was nothing that could prepare them for what was to come. As each team member entered the briefing room, they were greeted by a large, central table surrounded by ergonomic chairs, each equipped with individual data screens. The room’s walls were adorned with interactive displays showing real-time data feeds, star charts, and mission objectives. The central holographic projector hummed to life, displaying a rotating 3D model of the planet they were orbiting. The planet's surface appeared rugged, a vast expanse of reddish-brown terrain marked by deep canyons. Dust storms swept across the surface, creating an 3D render of swirling particles. Velana stood at the center of the room, her eyes scanning the holographic display that projected a detailed topographical map. "Preliminary scans indicate a complex network of underground caverns," she began, "These caverns may harbor unique alien life forms adapted to the harsh, subterranean environment." Zyri tapped her datapad and outlined a few zones of interest. "There are also unusual energy signatures emanating from deep within the caverns. If we can decipher their source, it may open new avenues." Zerath stepped forward, his expression serious. "While the scientific prospects are promising, we must proceed with extreme caution. The unstable terrain and frequent dust storms pose significant risks. We don't know what kind of creatures might be lurking in those dark caverns and any misstep could be deadly. Stay alert and stick to the safety protocols." Jorlan stepped up and tried to surpress a smile as he tapped his handheld device to project schematics on the center console. "Before we go, I’ve got a new piece of equipment that I’ve been dying to field-test: a helmet. It isn’t just about protection; it’s equipped with an integrated augmented reality display, advanced environmental sensors, and a real-time communication system.” He carefully pulled out a few high-tech masks, placing them on the table with a sense of pride. The masks were impressive, designed with a sleek, modern aesthetic that spoke of advanced engineering. The main body of each mask was made of a lightweight, durable material with a matte black finish, giving them a streamlined, almost futuristic look. Across the front, a curved transparent panel covered the mouth area, allowing for clear visibility of the wearer's facial expressions while still providing protection. As the debriefing came to an end, the ORION team geared up and prepared to descend to the planet's surface.

[callistoscollection]

Tickle Play

This guide delves into the world of tickle play, a playful and often intense form of erotic exploration.

What is Tickle Play?

Tickle play, sometimes known as tickle torture, is a form of sensation play that involves tickling a partner to elicit a range of bodily responses, from laughter and squirming to arousal and pleasure. This can range from light touches to more intense, even painful tickling, often incorporated into BDSM scenarios.

The appeal of tickle play lies in its unique blend of pleasure and discomfort. Here are some reasons why people enjoy it:

- Heightened Vulnerability: Tickling can create a sense of vulnerability and helplessness, which can be a turn-on for some individuals.

- Involuntary Laughter: The involuntary laughter triggered by tickling can be a source of arousal and release, especially when it's combined with other forms of stimulation.

- Intense Sensations: Tickling can create intense physical sensations that can be both pleasurable and stimulating, especially when focused on sensitive areas of the body.

- Power Play: The power dynamic inherent in tickle torture can be a source of excitement and satisfaction for both partners, with the dominant enjoying the control and the submissive enjoying the surrender.

- Emotional Release: Tickling can be a powerful way to release pent-up energy and emotions, leading to a sense of catharsis and relaxation.

Types

There are various types of tickle play, each with its own unique appeal and intensity:

- Light Tickling: This involves gentle tickling with fingers or feathers, often used as a playful foreplay or a way to build anticipation.

- Intense Tickling: This involves more vigorous tickling, often using tools or techniques to create a stronger sensation.

- Prolonged Tickling: This involves tickling for extended periods, often with the goal of pushing the submissive's limits and creating a sense of overwhelm.

- Restrained Tickling: This involves tickling a submissive who is restrained, either tied or held down, which can enhance the feeling of vulnerability and helplessness.

- Combined Tickle Torture: This involves combining tickling with other forms of sensation play, such as spanking, whipping, or flogging, to create a multi-sensory experience.

Tools

A variety of tools can be used to enhance tickle play, ranging from simple to more specialized:

- Fingers: The most common tool, offering a range of pressure and techniques.

- Feathers: Provide a light and airy sensation, often used for teasing or building anticipation.

- Brushes: Can be used for both gentle and intense tickling, depending on the type of brush and the pressure applied.

- Vibrating Toys: Can create a unique and intense tickling sensation, especially when used on sensitive areas.

- Wartenberg Pinwheels: These small, handheld devices with rotating pins can be used for light tickling.

- Body Claw Ticklers: These specialized tools are designed to create a strong and intense tickling sensation.

Risks

While tickle play can be a fun and exciting experience, it's important to be aware of potential risks:

- Muscle Strain: Excessive tickling can lead to muscle strain, especially in the abdomen, ribs, and feet.

- Abrasions: Rough tickling with tools or fingers can cause abrasions, especially on sensitive areas like the armpits or inner thighs.

- Breathing Difficulty: Intense tickling can make it difficult to breathe, especially if the submissive is restrained or unable to move freely.

- Emotional Distress: While consensual, tickle torture can sometimes lead to emotional distress, especially if the submissive feels overwhelmed or unable to communicate their boundaries effectively.

Mitigating Risks

To ensure a safe and enjoyable experience, it's crucial to take steps to mitigate risks:

- Clear Communication: Open and honest communication is essential, with both partners clearly expressing their boundaries, preferences, and limits.

- Safewords: Establish safewords that the submissive can use to signal that they need the tickling to stop or that they are feeling overwhelmed.

- Gradual Progression: Start with light tickling and gradually increase the intensity as the submissive becomes comfortable.

- Regular Breaks: Take breaks during extended tickling sessions to allow the submissive to rest and regain their composure.

- Gentle Touch: Avoid rough tickling that could cause abrasions or discomfort.

- Mindful Restraint: If using restraints, ensure they are comfortable and secure, and that the submissive can still breathe comfortably.

Aftercare

Aftercare in tickle play is essential for ensuring both partners feel comfortable and relaxed after an intense session.

Physical Aftercare:

- Gentle Touch and Reassurance: Offer gentle touch and reassurance.

- Hydration: Tickle play can be physically demanding, leading to sweating and potential dehydration. Offer water or other hydrating beverages to replenish fluids.

- Pain Relief: Over-the-counter pain relievers like ibuprofen, or options like a warm bath, a gentle massage can help manage any discomfort or muscle soreness.

- Rest and Relaxation: Allow time to rest and recover from the session.

Emotional Aftercare:

- Open Communication: Check in with your partner to ensure they are feeling okay and to discuss any concerns they may have about the session.

- Words of Affirmation: Offer words of praise and affection.

- Emotional Processing: Encourage your partner to process their experience and to talk about their feelings. This could involve a debriefing session.

- Time to Decompress: Allow your partner time to decompress and return to a calm and grounded state. This may involve a quiet activity, or a relaxing environment.

[scamanthalikely]

"So, you're saying it's still alive in there?"

"That's the theory, anyway. I believe the purpose of the patron firearm system is to provide reinforcement of the Law. But I feel that there is no point in seeking it out at this stage, at least not for me."

"Ezell..."

"There's only one way to be sure." Gesturing across the table, the Sankta gestures at the disassembled shotgun, kindly smiling towards the Doctor. "Now, which part of the firearm contains the fragment of God?"

_ _ _

The empty laboratory clicks open with barely a hiss, thanks to the clever use of a magnet at the top and bottom. It's stupid, you know? All of this technology for monitoring these top secret projects defeated with something a child has decent odds of keeping around as a curiosity. W chuckles to herself as she quickly shuts the door behind her, slipping in. A handheld light clicks on as she surveys the room. Her eyes widen.

*Well, well*, she thinks. *Guess I'll be adding this to my collection next.*

Reaching across the table, she starts to reassemble the firearm beginning with its smallest pieces. But as she moves to affix the firing pin, a curious thought strikes her as though from afar-

*YOU'LL DO.*

There's an explosion like the report of a firearm, and then nothing.

- - -

She comes to some time later, the mist of the fire suppression system making her vision hazy. Of course it's that damn Doctor in their stupid idiot mask. Must've been some kind of intruder countermeasure. She squints against the light, eyes trying to adjust. "Ugh... could you shut that damn thing off? It's getting in my eyes."

The Doctor gives a look of concern, brow furrowing detectable even through the darkness of their mask. "...no," they say, carefully and diplomatically.

"I get it, okay? I'm in the damn doghouse. Just shut that thing off or at LEAST turn it down."

The Doctor pulls out a compact mirror, flipping it open with one hand, and shows W her own reflection. She squints against the glare a moment before her eyes widen.

The lights are not on in this room. The only source of illumination is coming from just above W's brow, with more behind her splaying out. She flexes her shoulder back as she grabs the compact in wonderment and shock, and she sees the wing behind flex also, it's fragmentary components splaying out like fingers widening from a fist.

"Uh oh."

[beclumsy]

Alive in the Catacombs

There’s a deeply disconcerting feeling when you enter the Paris Catacombs for the first time: an eerie silence that gradually transforms into a soothing calm, a peculiar humidity in the air, a sensation of stepping into another world—just beneath the bustling, noisy, chaotic Parisian surface.

It starts with a long, seemingly endless corridor leading to the ossuary. The dirt floor. The echo of footsteps. And then, finally, you enter the realm of the dead—centuries of history, millions of lives gathered here, and you can’t help but imagine those lives: their beginnings, their endings, and those who granted these souls eternal rest.

When we first entered this place to prepare for the filming of what would become Alive in the Catacombs, we were immediately faced with numerous and complex production constraints: how to carry equipment down the narrow spiral staircase of over 130 steps? How to transport our cameras, cables, and the band’s gear along this massive corridor? Where to plug in our lights in a world where electricity is scarce? How to film underground, nearly a fifteen-minute walk from the surface, in the humidity and the constant 14°C temperature of the Catacombs? How to capture sound in such a space?

The answer came directly from Queens of the Stone Age when Josh gave us the key to understanding what he wanted to create in this singular place—a place that seemed to have haunted him for decades: “The Catacombs must be the main character of this live performance.” 

That sentence led us to make a radical decision, in a time when the race for the extraordinary and overproduction seems endless: there would be no need for electrical outlets because we would use very few electric instruments. There would be no flycases, only a small team, minimal gear, handheld or fixed cameras, the most organic sound capture possible, and limited battery-powered light sources to reveal the eerie beauty of the Catacombs to the outside world—values and cinematic principles we’ve long championed at La Blogothèque, especially in our Take Away Shows series. It was then that we all understood this film would be like no other.

Josh not only embraced the constraints of the location in his creative process—his approach to sound, the band’s setup, and the unique reorchestration of Queens of the Stone Age songs—but he also wanted to honor the Catacombs, to respect their centuries of history and those who rest there forever. This is mainly why the Catacombs agreed to host this very special shoot, allowing their own teams to join us in this crazy adventure with an artistic openness that proved invaluable.

The Catacombs were no longer just a filming location—they became a protagonist in the film, a character the band would interact with. The crypt became the first space where we’d discover them in semi-acoustic mode, accompanied by strings, chains, and sanding blocks used as percussion. The holy water font became the place where we tightened the frame, blending the sound of dripping water from the ceiling with the music. The arcades were where bows, instruments, and bodies merged in a tight sonic ballet. Almost everything was to be filmed hand-held or on tripod, up close with the band, using a unique camera setup designed by our director of photography, Théo Fauger, which allowed images to overlay and the band to merge with the location, and vice versa—Queens of the Stone Age becoming the Catacombs, and the Catacombs becoming Queens of the Stone Age. 

And then, the unexpected happened—Josh’s health suddenly deteriorated, and he did what none of us had imagined: he pushed ahead with the shoot, gritting his teeth through the pain, with a makeshift cot set up in the guts of the Catacombs so he could lie down between takes, gasping in pain every time our director, Thomas Rames, called “cut!”

We filmed for over twelve hours that day. Twelve hours of performance and movement through the last place you’d want to be—one imagines—when you’re suffering as Josh was that day. We’ve had shoots canceled for far less.

Josh’s unstoppable energy and that of his band, the urgency that drove him to stay upright despite the pain, carried us all. Their desire to create something beautiful, unique, and organic as well. All of it to celebrate the Paris Catacombs and the music of a band whose meticulous sense of melody has rarely been showcased in this way. It’s all of these shared intentions that led to this extraordinary live performance—the result of a collective search for beauty and authenticity, which gave birth to Alive in the Catacombs, a film we’re all so proud of today. And to a shoot we’ll never forget, both for the human connections it sparked and for the cinematic freedom it offered us.