#knock out drum function

[sungov]

The Type of Knock-out Drums Used in Refineries

The Importance of a Knock-Out Drum

The vessel in a refinery that is intended to separate and collect the condensed liquid from process gases and to remove it is called a knockout drum. Called by other names such as mist eliminators, scrubber separators, vane pack separators, demister pad separators, inertial separators, the knock-out drum functions as one of the main components in a refinery and is made available in horizontal and vertical configurations. 

What are the Functions of a Knock-Out Drum

The knock-out drum’s applications are listed as follows:

Removal of oil or water from fuel gases, flare gas, other process gases

Elimination of water or oil that enters the compressor during the point of suction

What You Need to Know About Horizontal Configuration

The design of a knock-out drum is generally decided based on the space available and the operating parameters. A horizontal drum is used when the flow rate is high and there is a need for enormous liquid storage capacity. Some of the advantages of having a horizontal knock-out drum are:

Can handle larger liquid loads

Has low pressure drop 

The design of the knockout drum is determined by the path in which the vapor enters and exits the drum. Some of the popular horizontal configurations are as below:

Vapor enters the center and exits at each end on the horizontal axis

Vapor enters one end of the vessel exits the top of the opposite end (internal baffling-none)

Vapor enters each end on the horizontal axis and exits the central outlet

What You Need to Know About Vertical Configuration

When the load of the liquid is low and when there is a considerable space crunch, the vertical knock-out drum configuration is a preferred choice. The vertical knock-out drum designs are as below:

Vapor enters the vessel radially and exits at the top of the vessel’s vertical axis. However, note that the inlet stream has to be baffled and the flow directed downwards

Vapor flow enters tangentially from the tangential nozzle, and gravity plays its part in determining the settlement of the liquid at the bottom, while the vapor exits from the outlet at the top of the drum’s vertical axis

What is Common Between the Knock-out Drums

The knock-out drums include the liquid zone, vapor area, inlet and outlet lines, liquid level indicator, control valve and a de-entrainment pad. 

Sungov Advantage for Vessel Fabrication Using Knockout Drums

With over three decades of experience, we at Sungov Engineering are always brimming with ideas and experience to assist you in your project involving vessel fabrication. Sungov Engineering manufactures knockout drums for several applications including natural gas, flare gas, and other fuel gas. The drums are generally constructed to ASME Sec VIII Div. 1 Code of construction with/without ASME stamping. 

Our team of experts who are always passionate about what they do will gladly discuss your process and assist you with your questions. Call us today!

[katsukistofu]

my caffeine mix-up!

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ hawks x fem reader. fluff. slightly suggestive. you accidentally pick up the number two hero’s coffee so picks you up instead. | pt. ii

You take a sip of your morning coffee and almost spit it out on your dashboard.

This could not be your order. It was so… unusually sugary. Too sugary. Like someone liquified a whole candy store and shoved it into a venti cup.

Still reeling a little from the overly sweet aftertaste that lingers on your tongue, your eyes trail down to read:

Vt Crml Crnch Frap

5 Banana

Ex Caramel Drizzle

Extra Whip

Extra Ice

Ex Cinnamon

7 pumps Add Dk Crml Sauce

Ex Caramel Crunch

1 pump Honey Blend

Heavy Cream

Double Blended

What kind of pretentious asshole orders this garbage? Were their taste buds dead?

You mentally sent your condolences to the poor person that had to make this disgusting monstrosity of a drink. Please, you would’ve taken one look at the order and thrown it in the trash.

Your eyes searched the paper cup for who your local coffee shop transgressor was– catching sight of a scribble in blue marker reading “H-A.” You moved your hand a bit to reveal a “W-K-S.” A sense of dread creeps in as you numbly stare at the squiggly heart next to it.

It was like someone slipped an ice cube down the back of your shirt.

You had mistakenly picked up the wildly famous winged pro hero’s order and to make things even worse, put your mouth on where his was supposed to be.

Okay that sounded kind of dirty. But it’s not like you could drive back and return it now, what with your lip gloss already staining the lid.

Hey, um, I think I accidentally took a sip of the Hawks’s coffee? Oopsies? You guess you could pay for his order to be remade, but who’s to say he’ll even come back for it, much less accept it from some random stranger?

You were already running late to your desk job as is, and your coworkers were probably scratching their heads, wondering where you were since you always arrived at least half an hour before them. Should you just throw it away and pretend it never happened?

Oh god, would some person dig through the trash the moment you turned your back and extract your DNA from your lip gloss on the lid, thinking you were a deranged fan who stole his drink on purpose?

Or worse—that you were his secret girlfriend picking up his drink who had just wanted a little taste first before delivering it to him?

Your brain starts to wring itself dry of all the possibilities that could happen, shuddering despite each one being as unlikely as the next. An impressive mental workout for an un-caffeinated person at barely eight in the morning.

You wish you never even went to get your usual little treat today. That barista definitely looked right at you when you went to pick up your order, you swear they did.

But now that you’re thinking about it, maybe they were looking at the person standing behind you that you didn’t see as you rushed out of the shop? How do you even miss a man with wings that big?

Something gently knocks on the driver side window and you almost jump out of your seat.

As you roll it down with caution, your brain momentarily stops functioning as you’re met with a pair of striking golden eyes. Another inch of tinted glass down, a strong Grecian nose.

Forget work, the hell. You didn’t even know noses could be that pretty, and as your last bit of window disappears into the car so does your self-respect as you realize he’s abandoned his usual tan-colored jacket, standing before you in his black compression shirt with gold embossment.

Forget everything, actually.

You don't realize you’re holding your breath until he laughs at you, and you sheepishly close your slightly parted lips.

“Didn’t know coffee thieves came this cute.” Drinking in your appearance his keen eyes stray from yours, slowly trailing down to your trembling lips, a stark contrast to the growing smirk on his. “Or this nervous.”

His fingers drum absentmindedly on the side of your car door, clear amusement written across his handsome face as he waits for you to say something. You collect yourself and snap out of your thoughts, taking a deep breath.

“I’msososorryIdrankyourcoffee!” You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment as your words come out in a jumble. “I totally grabbed the wrong order and I can’t believe I didn’t see you waiting behind me, I swear I’m not a creep–”

“Hey, hey,” Hawks gently interrupts you, reassurance laced in his voice. “It’s all good, no harm done.” He taps the paper cup that somehow miraculously hasn’t slipped out of your fingers yet.

“Sooo was it good?”

You choke on air, not expecting that. “Your drink?”

“Yeah, my drink.” He shoots you a cheeky grin. That bastard. “Good or nah?” You pause, contemplating if you should lie–no. No, today you chose honesty.

“...Genuinely, I have no idea how you drink this shit.”

Hawks laughs at your bold answer. “Thanks for being my little taste tester anyways. Too sweet, huh?” The tip of his finger traces around the remnants of your lip gloss on the lid, the cup still in your now slightly shaky hand as you nod.

His touch seared against your skin, as his pretty fingers closed around yours to raise the drink up to his lips to take a slow sip, eyes never leaving your own.

With a gaze that was infuriatingly sultry as it was sweet, like a bird of prey beckoning a field mouse to be their next meal, he murmurs, “Just how I like it.”

You’re not really sure he was talking about the coffee anymore.

He hums, and your thighs involuntarily clench a bit as his soft-looking mouth closes around the opening of the lid to take another sip.

“I’d say you’re a villain that deserves their own special category.” He grins, eyes sparkling conspiratorially. “One that involves letting me take her out to dinner.”

If you weren’t sitting down you know your legs would have given out. “Like… like on a date?” You gape at him incredulously. Because there was no way. Hawks. Just asked you out.

“Now sweetheart, what else would it be?” Hawks smirks at your dazed expression, like you’re sure you misheard him. So cute. “I mean, unless you don’t want to–”

“No!” He blinks, and your hand flies to cover your mouth at your sudden outburst.

“I-I mean, I want to…” You shyly say at a much quieter volume, fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. He leans closer to you with a grin, languidly resting his folded arms over the open frame of your car door.

“It’s a date then. I know this really good sushi and ramen place down the block near my agency, my treat of course.”

“If I’m a villain is this your idea of rehabilitation?” You joke dryly. “Because it’s working.”

He tips your chin up. “Oh don’t worry pretty, I’m just getting started with turning you into a good girl.” A hot flush creeps up your neck to your cheeks, and you almost melt into a puddle right then and there at your steering wheel.

“I’d love to stay but I’m actually so late for work right now.” You utter weakly, chin still resting against his finger. Hawks tilts his head at that, unfolding his vibrant crimson wings as he wordlessly opens the front door of your car.

With little effort and an impressive flex of his biceps, plus a sharp intake of breath from you, one of his arms slips under your thighs and another firmly hugs you just under your shoulder blades as he lifts you up to his firm chest.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he feels your flustered arms hastily reach up to wrap around his neck. Honeyed eyes like molten gold meet yours as he gives a gentle squeeze to your thigh through your pencil skirt, and once again you find yourself needing a reminder to breathe.

“So, where to?”

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“IS THAT FUCKING HAWKS OUTSIDE OUR COMPANY’S BUILDING?!”

say you can’t sleep, baby i know, that’s that me expresso~ ♪

[freeabortionslol]

shake it off, babe (a lake house series fic) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pairings: cole caufield x reader, mentions of quinn, jack, luke, and trevor (but there's no dialogue with them) summary: reader feels lonely at the annual lake house party, cole steps in to cheer her up, italics means flashback warnings!! mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, cursing a/n: here's a lake house blurb for all you Cole lovers!! this was a request by an anon :) I love the suggestions so keep em coming!

wc: 2.4k lake house series masterlist

The volume of chatter and music ran high through the lake house, your eyes saddening with every beat of the drum. You sat on the couch, swirling your drink in your hand as you stared at the wall. Jack and Luke were somewhere in the house talking to various women, Trevor was far too drunk to function, and Quinn had to fly home to Vancouver for some emergency with his apartment. You were left sitting alone, missing Quinn more than ever. You pulled out your phone, already beginning to type out a message. 

You: miss ya lots

You sighed, placing your phone back in your lap and taking another sip of your drink. You sank back into your seat, your eyes scanning the room for anyone to talk to, but you didn’t recognize most of the people in the house. It was one of those weird weeks out of the summer where all your girlfriends were busy and couldn’t carve out the time to come to Michigan, so you were left with no one. You could get up and talk to the girls that the guys had invited, but you knew they were only here for whichever player invited them. You’d seen this film before; you walk up to a girl, start talking about something unrelated to hockey, and the conversation always flips to them trying to get you to set them up with one of the guys. Your girlfriends never did that, knowing how truly annoying your little band of hockey players could be at times.  

“Hey, you okay?” Cole asked loudly, planting himself down in the seat next to you. You jolted a bit as you were knocked from your daze, your gaze softening at the sight of Cole.

You nodded your head, gracing him with a half smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed, gently biting his lip as he stared you down. “I know what ‘fine’ means, and it definitely doesn’t mean you’re okay.” 

You sighed, sinking deeper into the couch, feeling the weight of your thoughts pressing on you. "It's just...I miss my friends. My girlfriends," you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended. "It’s weird, you know? Jack, Luke, and Trevor are off doing god knows what, Quinn left, and I'm just sitting here alone." 

Cole's expression softened as he turned toward you, his body language more relaxed. "I get it," he said quietly. "Jack’s always off trying to find his next conquest and Trevor-" He took a moment before continuing. "Trevor’s just over there being a fucking idiot." You let out a soft laugh, glancing over towards Trevor in the kitchen. He was shirtless, wearing a cowboy hat as he wrapped an arm around Jamie Drysdale, almost slipping on the linoleum. 

“Yeah,” You said quietly, taking another sip of your drink. “He’s ridiculous.” Silence draped over the two of you as you returned your gaze to the wall, fiddling with the drink in your hand. Cole let out a soft sigh, taking a look at your sad eyes before sinking in the couch next to you, knees touching slightly. He took a sip of his beer letting his eyes scan the room as the two of you sat in silence. He caught sight of a particular guy, one he’d seen hanging around Luke at various parties like this. The guy wasn’t much taller than Cole, maybe an inch or two, he had blonde hair that was covered by his Michigan baseball cap. Cole had met him a couple times, though it wasn’t enough to remember his name. He remembered the guy being an absolute dick, your typical pretentious hockey play-boy. The guy’s drunk stare was centered on you as you sat there with sad eyes and a pouty lip, clearly upset about something. Cole noticed immediately, his soft gaze turning into a more aggressive stare. Casually, he placed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side. Almost immediately, you leaned your head on his shoulder, assuming Cole was just trying to comfort you from the weight of the night. Cole’s arm around you felt warm and comforting, a subtle distraction from the heaviness in your chest. You breathed in, trying to steady yourself, but the thought of Quinn still lingered. You tried not to let it show, but Cole could sense it. You let out a long sigh, your gaze flicking across the room again, this time landing on the guy with the blonde hair in the baseball cap. He was still staring, his gaze lingering too long for comfort. Your stomach twisted, the feeling of being watched settling over you. You ignored it as best as possible, lifting your head from Cole’s shoulder to look him in the eyes. 

“You wouldn’t rather be talking to all these pretty girl’s instead of slumming it with my sad ass?” You asked, your voice quiet. 

Cole’s brows furrowed as he shook his head. “Nah,” He said, taking another sip of his beer. “Not when I've got the prettiest girl in the room sitting next to me.” You smiled softly, bumping your head against his shoulder before taking it off again. You let out a sigh, picking your phone back up to check for new messages.

quinnifer: Miss you too 🩷 don’t have too much fun without me

You simply turned your phone off and set it back down, not wanting to continue sulking. 

“Hey,” Cole said, tapping your shoulder lightly. You whipped your head to him, seeing that he was looking elsewhere in the room. “Girl in the white top, blue shorts.” He pointed to a girl on the far end of the room. She was sitting in one of the rocking chairs, both of her legs over each arm of the chair as she slouched, looking at her phone. 

You let out a soft giggle, now looking at her as well. “Holy shit. That can’t be comfortable.” Cole laughed along, feeling the vibrations of his chest rising and falling against your skin. 

“‘Have you ever tried this one?’” You and Cole said in unison, quoting the song ‘Juno’ by Sabrina Carpenter, like your brains were intertwined. You both whipped your heads to each other, mouths wide open as you realized you had the same thought. You both doubled over laughing on the couch, trying your best to catch your breath. Cole’s loud, hearted laugh echoed through the living room as you gripped your stomach, tears falling from your eyes. Once the laughter finally began to die down, you wiped your eyes and leaned back into the couch, still smiling. Cole took a deep breath, calming himself, but his grin was still wide, his eyes twinkling with amusement. 

“Man, you’re way too much fun to be sitting around here looking all mopey,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder. 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You always know how to boost my ego, Cole.” 

Cole let out a soft laugh, returning his arm around your shoulders. “That’s my job.” You held up your drink in cheers before leaning back into his touch. “When we finally get married-”

“And, you ruined it.” You interrupted, taking another sip from your drink. Cole groaned in mock offense, letting out a slight snort. 

"Come on, I was getting there!" Cole grumbled, feigning disappointment as he dramatically slouched back against the couch. "You can’t just cut me off mid-proposal, that’s rude." 

You couldn't help but laugh again, your heart feeling a little lighter despite everything. "Oh, was that supposed to be a proposal? Sorry, I didn’t realize I was supposed to say yes." 

Cole’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open in exaggerated shock. "You’re breaking my heart here!" he said dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d just delivered the worst news of his life. "I’m offering you a lifetime of terrible jokes, unsolicited advice, and questionable dance moves, and this is how you repay me?" You laughed again, the feeling of being surrounded by laughter and easy camaraderie easing the knot in your stomach, even if only for a little while. There was something about Cole’s effortless ability to make light of a situation that always made everything feel less serious. In that moment, you realized that maybe this night wasn’t all bad. It wasn’t the same as being with Quinn or Jack, but there was something comforting about having a friend like Cole, someone who could always make you smile when you needed it most. Just as you were relaxing into your spot, taking another sip from your drink, ‘Shake It Off’ by Taylor Swift came over the speakers. 

Cole’s head whipped over to you in a second, his eyes wide as his smile grew. “Oh shit!” He exclaimed.

You giggled, shaking your head at him. “Nuh uh. No way, Caufield.” 

“What? Why?” He groaned. “It’s our song!” You scoffed playfully, your giggles intensifying. 

Two years earlier…

You and Cole sat outside on the back porch, the wind blowing fresh summer air against your cheeks. The whole group had already gone inside after a smoke session. Everyone was sleepy, wanted to pass out as soon as possible, but you and Cole were always the late nighters. Cole was known to be effortlessly funny- the kind of funny that had you lying on the floor almost wetting yourself. You stuck by his side that summer more than you cared to admit, the tension from arguments from Jack causing you to drift away a bit. You and Cole just sat together, talking about random things in the midst of your loopy states. 

“Okay, Okay,” Cole started, brushing off his giggles. “What’s your best party trick?”

You wiped tears from your eyes, something that occurred almost every time Cole opened his mouth. “I don’t have one.”

Cole tilted his head, widening his eyes. “No way. You’re too cool to not have a party trick.” 

You laughed slightly, leaning back in your adirondack chair. “It’s true!” You exclaimed. “Never saw a reason to have one.” 

Cole scoffed, leaning his head against his hand. “Well, I don’t have one either.”

You whipped your head over to him, a stoned thought hitting you like a lightbulb. “We should come up with one.”

“Come up with a party trick?” He asked.

“Yes!” You said loudly. “But like…one that’s together. Something we can only do if both of us are there.” 

Cole sat up, his brows furrowing. “Hm…like what?” You pointed your gaze down at your hands, trying to think. Cole did the same, looking out at the lake as ideas swarmed his mind. “Like a choreographed dance?” 

You turned your head to him slowly, a bright smile on your face. “Exactly.” You whispered.

The two of you spent the entirety of that night strategically choreographing dance moves to Shake It Off. Most of the turns ended in you falling straight into Cole’s arms, stumbling and laughing as he pushed you back up on your feet. By the time the clock hit 5am you and Cole had a brand new party trick that you were both extremely proud of. 

“C’mon, babe!” He groaned, sitting closer to the edge of his seat. “It’s why we created this amazing dance.” He stood up in front of you, placing his beer on the coffee table before extending his hand out to you. “Will this beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, smokin’ hot lady please join me for a dance?”

You smacked your lips, a smile cracking slightly. “Well when you ask me like that, how am I supposed to say no?” A wide grin wiped across Cole’s face as you took his hand, standing up along with him. As you stood, you could feel the playful tension between the two of you, like something was about to unfold. Cole's energy was contagious, his grin impossibly wide as he pulled you gently towards the center of the living room. You could hear the music in the background, the familiar beat of ‘Shake It Off’ starting to fill the space around you. 

"Alright, here’s the deal," Cole said, his voice low and dramatic. "We’ve been practicing this for two years, and if we don’t do it now, it’s gonna be a waste of all that hard work." You laughed, shaking your head as you took your position, mirroring his moves from the countless rehearsals that now felt like a lifetime ago. The excitement in his eyes told you that he was all in, and you couldn’t help but feel the same. Cole threw his hands up in exaggerated excitement. "Let’s go!" The music kicked in, and without missing a beat, you both started the routine. Every move perfectly timed, every spin and shimmy choreographed with surprising precision. You fell into each other’s rhythm effortlessly, recalling the late summer nights spent perfecting this ridiculous but strangely satisfying routine. You twirled, and Cole caught you in his arms, just as he had done countless times before. You both laughed, the entire world outside the living room blurring into the background as you and Cole reveled in the moment. The laughter and joy from your past drifted through the air, only making the experience feel more surreal. As the song’s chorus hit, you both pulled off the final spin and ended it with an exaggerated bow, panting from the fun but smiling like fools. The living room went silent for a brief moment before you both burst out laughing, unable to contain yourselves. 

Cole wiped his forehead, pretending to be out of breath. "See? Told you we were the best." 

You doubled over in laughter, clutching your stomach. "I can’t believe we’re doing this in front of a party of strangers," you gasped between giggles. 

But Cole didn’t care. His grin never faltered as he threw his arm around you, pulling you into his side. "Who cares? We’re having the time of our lives, and everyone else can catch up. You’re welcome, world." 

You shook your head, still laughing. "I swear, Cole, you’re the only person who can convince me to do something so ridiculous and make me actually enjoy it." 

He shrugged nonchalantly, clearly proud of his success. "What can I say? It’s a gift." 

As you both settled back onto the couch, the energy of the moment still buzzing between you, you felt lighter than you had in hours. With Cole by your side, even the heavy moments felt a little easier to carry. 

[thelostmagicians]

Shield of a Heart | Harry Styles: Part I

The Assignment

Series Masterlist

Summary: You’re Harry Styles’s personal bodyguard [3.4k]

Fluff, comfort, angst, panic attack, security risks

♡

The scent of fresh coffee and polished wood lingered in Jeff’s office, blending with the faint aroma of cologne. The morning sun filtered through the half-open blinds, casting slanted golden lines across the desk where Harry sat, fingers idly drumming against the surface. He had heard this conversation before. The ticking of the clock seemed louder than usual, a reminder that time was never on their side.

"H, I know you hate the idea of constant security," Jeff said, his tone serious. "But we can’t ignore what’s been happening. The crowd outside the hotel last week? The guy who jumped the barricade at your show? It’s getting worse."

Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his curls, his gaze unfocused. "I don’t want to be that celebrity, Jeff. The one who walks around with an entourage, who has security pushing people away like they’re some kind of plague. I like interacting with fans. I don’t want to build walls around myself."

Jeff sighed, rubbing his temples, his face lined with frustration. "Then we find a way to make it low-key. I hired someone from an agency that specializes in undercover security. No obvious muscle, no uniforms, just someone watching your back without making it obvious."

Harry arched a brow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Sounds expensive."

"Worth every penny. You’ll barely notice her."

Before Harry could argue further, a knock at the door interrupted them. Jeff stood and opened it, revealing you—dressed in a sleek yet practical outfit: dark jeans, a fitted black jacket, and boots sturdy enough for function yet stylish enough to blend in. Your posture was confident, poised, and alert, projecting a quiet authority that immediately commanded attention.

Harry’s lips parted slightly, the surprise evident in his eyes. He had been expecting someone completely different.

Jeff cleared his throat, his expression apologetic. "Harry, meet your new bodyguard."

There was a beat of silence as Harry and Jeff exchanged a quick glance of surprise.

You smirked slightly, though you kept your posture professional. "Let me guess—you two were expecting someone different?"

Jeff opened his mouth to deny it, but Harry’s expression gave them both away.

"A bit," Harry admitted, his voice laced with humor. "Not in a bad way, just... surprised."

"It’s okay," you replied with a shrug, your tone light. "Happens all the time. People see me and assume I’m a PR manager or an assistant. Maybe even a stunt double on a good day. But I assure you, I’m more than qualified to keep you safe."

Jeff leaned forward, a mix of pride and reassurance in his voice. "She comes highly recommended, top of her class. Trained in multiple combat techniques, counter-surveillance, defensive driving—you name it."

Harry hesitated before shaking your hand. "Right. Of course. I appreciate you doing this."

"It’s my job," you said simply, gripping his hand firmly, your touch brief but firm. "And I take it seriously. I’ll be shadowing you from now on. I won’t interfere with your day-to-day life unless I deem it necessary for your safety."

Jeff let out a breath of relief. "Alright. You start tomorrow."

As you left the office, you could feel Harry's eyes following you, still assessing, still deciding how he felt about the arrangement. You had a feeling this wasn't going to be an easy job, but you were used to challenges.

—

The next morning, you arrived early, determined to start taking action. You wanted to make the house feel like a safe space for Harry, not one that reminded him he was constantly under threat. As you entered, Harry’s house was still quiet, but you could hear the faint hum of a coffee machine in the kitchen. Harry’s team had already started arriving, but they barely noticed you as you moved with purpose. You couldn’t afford distractions.

The first thing you did was walk the perimeter of the house. The gates were solid, but outdated. You noted the number of hidden spots that weren’t covered by security cameras. There was an entrance to the side of the house that led to a narrow alley, and another hidden behind a tall garden wall. You couldn’t trust that nothing could slip by unnoticed.

You took mental notes—doorways, windows, gates, and even the trees that created shadows by the fence. No blind spots could go unaccounted for. After another quick call, you arranged for a full security system update.

By noon, new security cameras were being installed. You had chosen ones with facial recognition, ensuring that only those Harry authorized would be able to get past the front gate. Each camera was strategically placed in spots Harry didn’t even think to look. One was on top of the high garden wall, offering a bird's-eye view of anyone who came too close. Another was hidden behind a small decorative tree in the yard, monitoring the back door.

The most important change, however, came at the gate. You had noticed the gate code was easy to remember, but anyone who had once had access to it could still get in if they tried. The security team replaced the old keypad with a biometric scanner—fingerprint and face recognition—making it nearly impossible for anyone other than Harry or trusted personnel to gain entry. It was a decision made in the best interest of both privacy and safety.

Later in the day, as Harry returned home from a brief meeting, you watched him pull into the driveway. He came to a stop, giving you a quizzical look as he noticed the new setup.

"Okay, this is new," Harry said as he got out of the car, motioning toward the new camera at the gate and the biometric scanner you had installed. He raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t think I’d need to scan my face just to get into my own house."

You smiled coolly. "Better safe than sorry. You never know who might have access to your old codes. This is the next level of protection."

Harry paused, eyeing the scanner, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. You weren’t just a bodyguard anymore. You were someone who understood how to keep him safe. His face softened slightly, but there was still a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

“I don’t know how I feel about all of this," Harry said, clearly uncomfortable with the changes. "It feels a little... extreme.”

You could sense his resistance, but you had expected this. "The changes are necessary, Harry," you said gently. "And it’s all for your safety. Trust me, it’ll feel like second nature soon enough."

You stepped away, watching him for a moment, before giving him some space. You knew Harry wasn’t the type to embrace change quickly, especially when it came to his personal life. But the new measures weren’t negotiable, and you couldn’t afford to back down.

—

That evening, after a brief rundown of your expectations, Harry seemed to nod along, seemingly compliant. However, as soon as he left Jeff’s office, you noticed his quick pace and sharp turns. You felt a shift in the air—the subtle challenge of Harry trying to lose you. He walked quickly, turning corners sharply, hoping you'd fall behind.

But you didn’t. You kept pace, your eyes scanning the area with precision, anticipating his every move. He stopped by a coffee shop, ordering something he didn’t even want, just to see if you’d relax your guard. You didn’t. By the time he reached his car, you were already standing beside it, waiting for him.

Harry sighed, shaking his head with a small, reluctant smirk. "Alright, I get it. You’re good."

"You should’ve figured that out when they hired me," you replied evenly, opening the door for him. He slid in, still watching you with mild curiosity, his eyes darting over your face as if trying to piece together the enigma that was you.

You didn’t talk much during the ride, but every so often, you could feel his gaze flicking toward you, studying you in his own quiet way. He wasn’t convinced yet, but he was starting to accept that you weren’t going anywhere.

—

After you dropped Harry off, you headed back to the office to wrap up the day’s tasks. Just as you were about to leave, Jeff caught up to you in the hallway. His expression was serious, a far cry from the casual confidence he usually carried.

"Look, I know this is only your first day, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up," Jeff said, lowering his voice. "Harry’s stubborn, and he’s not going to make this easy. He’ll try to shake you, test your limits. He doesn’t believe he needs this level of protection, and he’ll resist at every turn."

You nodded, already anticipating the challenge. "I can handle it. I’ve dealt with difficult clients before."

Jeff glanced at you, his eyes softening just slightly. "It’s not just that," he continued. "Harry doesn’t just push back because he’s stubborn. He won’t admit when he needs help, especially when it comes to anything related to his safety. He’ll act like he’s fine, even when he’s not. Just… be patient with him. This is going to take time."

You absorbed his words carefully, already starting to form a strategy in your mind. This job wasn’t just about physical protection; it was about navigating Harry’s emotional landscape, too. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Jeff sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just don’t back down. He might push you, but that’s just how he is. You’re doing good, though. I can see it."

You offered him a small, confident smile. "Thanks. I won’t let you down."

—

The following morning, after a restless night of monitoring security systems and reviewing the updated perimeter, you decided it was time to establish some ground rules. As you entered Harry’s house early, you noticed he was still in his pajamas, a mug of coffee in hand as he browsed through his phone. His hair was messy, and his usual polished aura was absent. He didn’t look up as you approached, but you knew this conversation was inevitable.

"No unannounced outings," you said firmly, your voice cutting through the morning air. "If you’re leaving the house, I need to know ahead of time. If you’re meeting someone, I vet them first. No exceptions."

Harry scoffed, slumping back in his chair as if the weight of the world had suddenly been placed on his shoulders. "You want to approve my dates now, too?"

You met his gaze without flinching. "If your date is a security risk, yes."

Mitch, one of Harry’s closest friends and bandmate, smirked from across the table. "She’s got you there, mate."

The room was filled with Harry’s band and team, all gathered together. Mitch and Sarah were there, along with Jeff, who had accompanied you to the house early that morning. Sarah stayed mostly quiet, watching the interaction with interest, while Mitch, as always, was ready with a teasing comment. Jeff, however, stood firmly on your side. He knew the importance of what you were doing and had already helped arrange the meeting. His presence was a reminder that this wasn’t just about you and Harry—it was about Harry’s safety, and Jeff understood that.

"I called everyone in this morning to go over some new ground rules," you continued, setting a folder of documents down in front of Harry. "This isn’t just about you, Harry. This is about your team too. It’s important that everyone is on the same page, especially when it comes to security."

Harry raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond immediately, still holding onto his coffee mug. Mitch, noticing the tension, leaned back in his chair, making a show of stretching. "Alright, boss," Mitch said with a playful grin. "What’s the first rule? Can we still sneak out for late-night gigs without her tracking us down?"

You shot Mitch a look, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Mitch, you’re not a teenager anymore. If there’s something important you want to do, you let me know first. No more spontaneous plans. You know I need to vet it. Same goes for all of you. It’s for your safety and Harry’s."

Jeff, who had been quietly watching, finally spoke up, his voice calm but assertive. "Mitch, she's right. We can’t afford to take any chances anymore. If we’re going to do this right, everyone’s got to be on board with the rules. For Harry’s safety and all of ours."

Harry muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue. He toyed with a bracelet on his wrist, his fingers absentmindedly twirling it, clearly irritated by the restriction. You could tell the added pressure was building. It wasn’t just the rules—it was the idea of being watched, the feeling of someone else controlling parts of his life.

But you had to be firm. He needed structure, even if he didn’t want it. And it was your job to make sure he understood that these boundaries were for his own good. You had to pick your battles carefully, but you couldn’t back down now.

"Look, I get it," you added, noticing the strain on his face. "You don’t want to feel like you’re being treated like a child. But I’m not here to ruin your life, Harry. I’m here to make sure you stay safe. That means I need to know where you are, who you’re with, and if anything goes off track. You may not like it, but it’s non-negotiable."

The room was silent for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. Sarah, always the mediator, glanced between Harry and you. She didn’t speak up, but you could tell she was trying to gauge the situation. Jeff, on the other hand, nodded in approval.

"This is exactly why we need to stay organized," Jeff added. "We’ve all seen the risks. It's better to be proactive than reactive. It might seem over the top now, but trust me—it’ll pay off."

Harry’s eyes flashed with mild frustration, but he didn’t speak up. The rules were getting stricter, and though you could tell he wasn’t thrilled, you weren’t about to bend. His life wasn’t just his own anymore—it was part of a much larger, more complex world now, and everything had to be accounted for. This wasn’t just about protecting him from the outside world. It was about making sure nothing slipped through the cracks.

You turned back to Harry, who was still fidgeting with his bracelet, seemingly lost in thought. "I’ll be reviewing all of your appointments and travel schedules. No more impromptu decisions. If there’s anything outside of the ordinary, you’re to clear it with me first. This includes interviews, public events, and meetings with anyone who isn’t part of your team."

Mitch, always ready to throw in his playful commentary, grinned. "So, does that mean you’ll be approving my plans too, or are you going to let me live a little?"

You gave him a deadpan stare. "If your plans involve a security risk, Mitch, then yes. I’ll be reviewing them."

Mitch raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I see how this is going."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh but didn’t argue further. His team wasn’t exactly hostile, but there was a clear air of tension. They were used to having more autonomy, and now they were all adjusting to the fact that you were calling the shots when it came to security.

As the meeting wrapped up, you found another chance to add more rules. "I’m going to be implementing a detailed daily check-in. If you’re going anywhere, I want to know your exact plans for the day. That means no unplanned stops, no sudden changes of heart. Everything is to be accounted for."

Harry slumped further into his chair, running his hand through his hair. "Fine," he muttered, clearly exhausted from the conversation. "But this better not become a habit."

You leaned in slightly, your voice calm but firm. "It will, for your safety. And we both know this isn’t just a ‘habit.’ It’s necessary."

Harry nodded stiffly, his posture still tense, but you could see a flicker of acceptance in his eyes. There was a silent understanding growing between you two—a recognition that this arrangement wasn’t ideal, but it was the only way forward.

You gave him a small, knowing smile. "I know you’re not used to this, but in the long run, it’ll make things easier for both of us."

Harry nodded stiffly, but his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. There was something unspoken between you now, a mutual understanding. He might have fought the rules at first, but you had a feeling he was beginning to see the logic behind them.

Mitch shot Harry a teasing smile. "Looks like she’s got you on lockdown now, mate."

Harry rolled his eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. He was adjusting, even if it wasn’t easy. And as for you, you knew this was only the beginning. Building trust took time, but you were willing to work for it. The rules you were setting were necessary. And despite his initial resistance, Harry was starting to realize that he needed them.

—

The next few days passed without incident, but you stayed vigilant, constantly assessing Harry’s routines and the security setup. You knew that with a celebrity like him, the danger wasn’t always obvious, and there would be moments when he’d try to slip through the cracks. He was stubborn, determined, but you had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time he tested you.

That night, after another late evening of monitoring Harry’s schedule, you retired to the security room once more. You pulled up a map of Harry’s estate, overlaying it with your notes. Every camera feed was up on the screen, every exit was accounted for, and you had finally established a solid perimeter.

As you closed the laptop, your gaze lingered on the footage of Harry smiling in front of the cameras, pushing through the crowd for his fans. The image on the screen didn’t capture the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes always darted around when he was surrounded.

You’d noticed it before, but now you understood it better. Harry wasn’t just worried about his fans. He was worried about the cracks that formed around him—the way people expected him to be perfect, the endless demands for a version of himself that could never be entirely real. The pressure was immense. Behind that charming smile, behind the carefully curated persona, was a man who wasn’t sure where the public’s love for him ended and where his own fear began. People wanted to be close to him, to see the man behind the legend, but the truth was, they didn’t always know what to do with the raw, unguarded version of Harry. The one who, when the cameras were off, sometimes felt like he was drowning in his own image.

You understood it now—the anxiety that haunted him, the cracks that formed around his confidence. It wasn’t just about the crowds or the pressure to always be "on." It was the constant battle of being vulnerable in a world that only ever seemed to want the version of him that smiled on stage, not the person who carried the weight of his own flaws, fears, and humanity.

Your job wasn’t just about protecting him from the outside world. It was about protecting him from his own vulnerability, making sure that he wasn’t consumed by the relentless expectations placed on him.

As you sat there in the dim glow of the monitors, you couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take before Harry truly accepted the help he needed. He had always kept his guard up, never fully letting anyone in. You had learned that much about him already. But you had to admit, there was a subtle shift in the way he relied on your presence. Even if he didn’t admit it, he was beginning to let you in, piece by piece.

You leaned back in your chair, taking a breath. You had your work cut out for you, but it was the job you had taken, and you were determined to make sure Harry never had to face the world alone.

The stakes were higher than just his safety now—he was at a crossroads, and so were you. But if there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that this journey would change both of you in ways you couldn’t yet predict.

[ryin-silverfish]

An informal translation of the Chinese dub dialogues in LMK S5 trailer

Sth I did on Discord earlier today. May as well put it here, with a few annotations.

Heavy spoilers under cut.

"The Ten Courts of Ksitigarbha has summoned you here to answer for your evil deeds. Do you three acknowledge your crimes?"

[地藏十殿 is referencing how in JTTW, Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha/Dizang is technically the boss of the Ten Kings of the Underworld.]

Li Jing: "I should take over all affairs in the Celestial Realm."

Ten Kings: "And this…is Devaraja Li Jing, the Pagoda King."

MK: "Nezha's dad?! Nezha, is your dad becoming the new JE?"

"But there is one thing that can bring the Great Sage Equal to Heaven to his knees/make him submit..."

Li Jing: "Don't you lot try to escape again!"

"Thou shalt be condemned for thy destruction of tis' world!"

"Right now, the damage caused to the Pillar of Creation is irreversible."

MK: "Wait a sec, what exactly is the Pillar of Creation?"

"This world's functioning depends on it."

[创世之柱 likely draws inspiration from "Nvwa patching the sky" mythos, where the water god Gonggong, after losing his battle against Zhuanxu or Zhurong, knocked over Mt. Buzhou, the sky pillar with his head.]

"Whatever happens, we'll always find a way, right?"

Mei: "It seems to have something to do with…rocks?"

"Regardless of whether there is some sort of secret conspiracy, the people we trusted are all by our side!"

SWK: "Everything will be okay, MK."

"There is something deep inside you that you cannot control..."

"What we gotta do is collect the Five-colored Stones, repair whichever parts that need repairing, and return everything to normal at last!"

"Here…comes…Monkey Kid!"

Red Son: "Let's put the topic of Divine Beasts aside for a sec, Dragon Girl. Distant water cannot put out a nearby fire——"

[远水救不了近火, a Chinese idiom that basically means "a slow remedy cannot resolve an emergency".]

Mei: "My codename is Long Dongqiang! Long-dong-qiang-dong-qiang…(humming)"

[隆咚锵咚锵, a Chinese onomatopoeia for drum + gong sounds. Mei is also making a pun here of her Chinese surname, Long.]

[Edit: the onomatopoeia is also used in a CNY song, 七个隆冬锵咚锵.]

[giveafike]

Starlit Season - B.T.S

TLDR: Christmas Market time! This is part 3/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 4.7k. including dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: Day 3/12! Can you believe we're already 25% through it? Don't worry though, we still have the other 75% to get through ;) Lmk how you feel about the series so far after you're done reading!

This comes out the day after the Garden Cup so I'll add my thoughts here ab it: HE PLAYED SO GOOD WTF? Exho's always bring out the best in him smh. He looked so happy so I'm happy. ALSO...i said "last night was a movie" in a twt...why was that his caption im kinda freaking out.

————————————————————————

As the sun descended early in the lazy winter sky, you, Ben and Emma found yourselves getting ready for a quick drive to Gainesville's Winter Wonderland Christmas Market. The drive to the Christmas market had all the easy comfort of time spent with people you loved; the faint hum of the car’s heater mingled with a soft holiday playlist Ben had set before they pulled out of the driveway, a mix of classics and pop covers. Emma was sprawled across the backseat, her legs tucked up as she lazily scrolled through her phone, chiming in now and then with observations about the playlist or comments on the sights outside. Ben’s hand rested casually on the wheel, the other draped over your thigh, mindlessly tracing shapes against your jeans. His fingers occasionally drummed to the beat of the music as you conversed.

Emma leaned forward in her seat, resting her chin on the headrest between you and Ben. “So,” she started, stretching her words out with a smile, “what’re you gettin’ Benny for Christmas? Any genius ideas yet?”

You groaned, letting your head fall back against the seat. “Em, I’m completely out of ideas. It’s bad. Like, I’m about to panic-buy socks bad.”

Ben chuckled, softly, shooting you a sweet side glance. “Socks are underrated, babe. Functional. Timeless. I’m into it!”

Emma rolled her eyes, swatting his shoulder. “Yeah, no, you’re too high maintenance for that. Remember when Mom tried to buy those cheap crayons for school, and you threw a hissy fit ‘cause the colours weren’t bright enough?”

Ben huffed, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “That’s called having standards, Emma. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Right,” Emma drawled, clearly unimpressed. Then, her attention swung back to you. “Didn’t y’all write Santa letters the other day? Mom mentioned she caught you at the table, covered in glitter and actin’ like five-year-olds. That’s gotta have some ideas in it, no?”

“Oh, don’t,” Ben groaned, already sensing where this was headed.

“What?” Emma teased, her grin wicked. “Benny pours his little heart and soul out in a letter to Santa, and you’re tellin’ me there’s nothin’ in there gift-worthy?”

Your voice softens as you decide to playfully tease Ben and pull out your phone, giggling. “It’s actually pretty sweet. Here, hold on.”

You scrolled through your photos until you found the picture you’d snapped of Ben’s messy, glitter-covered letter. “Knock yourself out.” You handed it over your shoulder.

Emma snatched the phone eagerly, her grin widening as she took in the chaotic page. Her eyes skimmed over the letter, and her smirk softened. “You really wrote all this? No help this time?” she asked, glancing at Ben.

He shrugged, ears turning a little pink. “What about it?”

Emma grinned, shaking her head. “Gotta admit, it’s sweet.”

She mimicked a dramatic sniffle, mocking her little brother but pressed her hand to her chest as she jutted out her bottom lip, smiling a bit. “ ‘A hug for my family’? ‘More chances to make people smile’? Oh, Ben... you’re gonna make Santa cry!”

Ben groaned again, but this time he was smiling, his hand giving your thigh a playful squeeze. “Emma, if you don’t stop, I swear you’ll be walkin’ to the market.”

Emma cackled, tossing your phone back to you. “Relax, man I’m not hatin’. It’s sweet, really. You’re just lucky Mom didn’t frame this and hang it on the fridge.”

You smiled gently, brushing your fingers lightly over Ben’s hand. “I thought it was perfect.”

Ben muttered something under his breath about it being private, but his smile lingered, soft and sheepish. Emma, of course, leaned back with a triumphant look.

“Y’all are disgustingly cute, by the way,” she added. “Now, can we please get to this market before I die of secondhand sap?”

As if on cue, the glowing palm trees of the Christmas market came into view, their lights twinkling against the dark sky. Ben adjusted the radio, and 'Feliz Navidad' played softly as he turned into the lot, grinning ear to ear like a kid himself.

“You ready for some holiday magic?” he asked, taking your hand in his, and squeezing it softly.

“I think I already got it,” you smiled back.

The Christmas market unfolded before you, a sprawling patchwork of lights, music, and festivity. The breeze carried the faint scent of pine and cinnamon, mingling with the sound of carolers harmonising near the entrance. Palm trees were strung with twinkling lights, their fronds swaying slightly, a reminder that even in Florida, Christmas had its own brand of magic.

Ben parked the car, and Emma was out almost instantly, her phone buzzing. “Alex’s here,” she said, pulling her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll catch up with y’all later.”

“You ditchin' us already?” Ben teased as he climbed out of the car, grabbing your hand as you stepped down.

“Not ditchin’, just… prioritisin’!” Emma shot back, beaming. “Y’all don’t need me third-wheeling all night.”

“You mean to say your boyfriend doesn’t wanna hang with his future brother-in-law?” Ben quipped, earning a laugh from Emma as she waved him off and disappeared into the crowd.

With Emma gone, it was just the two of you, your hands laced together as you stepped into the bustling market. “Well,” Ben said, his voice tinged with a playful challenge, “where to first, Captain?”

You tilted your head, scanning the stalls. “Somewhere with food,” you decided. “I’m starving.”

“Food it is,” he agreed, tugging you toward a row of food vendors. Each stall seemed to offer something better than the last, hot cocoa piled high with whipped cream and homemade marshmallows, candied goods glistening in the light, and the unmistakable sizzle of fresh churros frying.

Ben nudged you toward a cart with a small crowd gathered around it. “What about this?” he asked, pointing to a sign boasting fresh kettle corn.

The vendor handed over a bag the size of your torso, and Ben immediately snagged a handful, tossing a piece into his mouth. “Oh, yeah,” he said, nodding in approval. “This is the good stuff.”

“Let me try, I'll be a harsher judge” as you stole a handful from the bag. The sweet and salty crunch of the popcorn melted on your tongue, and you sighed. “Okay, fine, you're right.”

Ben looked down at you, gummy smile in full force. “You’re gettin’ better at admitting that.”

Rolling your eyes, you tugged him along, weaving through rows of stalls. The sound of music and conversations filled the area as vendors called out, offering samples and showing off their wares, handmade candles, intricate wooden ornaments, and shelves of baked goods that left you tempted at every turn.

At one stall, you paused to admire a display of tiny, hand-painted nutcrackers. “Look at these,” you said, picking up one with a red and gold uniform.

“Cute,” Ben said, though his attention was clearly on the stall selling mini doughnuts just a few feet away.

“Yeah, aren't they- Oh. You’re impossible,” you gushed before you followed his gaze, setting the nutcracker down and letting him lead you toward his next snack.

The two of you found a small bench under a string of lights and shared the warm, sugary treats, laughing as Ben somehow managed to get powdered sugar on his nose. “You’re a mess,” you said, wiping it away with your thumb.

“Comes with the territory,” he replied with a wink, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before pulling you back to your feet. “C’mon, there’s still so much to see.”

The market stretched endlessly, alive with light and movement. Every turn revealed another burst of colour or warmth, strands of golden fairy lights zigzagged overhead, framing the bustling rows of stalls. Palm trees wrapped in garlands stood proudly alongside traditional evergreens, their sparkling lights blinking cheerfully against the clear, starry sky.

Ben’s hand was warm and steady as it laced with yours, grounding you in the sea of activity. A couple walked past with steaming cups of cider, the spicy scent drifting your way, and you made a mental note to find some before the night ended. Ben seemed relaxed, his free hand swinging the bag of kettle corn he insisted on buying first thing.

“You know,” he began, his tone softer now, “I used to come here every year with my family. Me, Emma, Mom, Dad… sometimes a few friends would tag along. It was always this big thing.”

You glanced up at him, catching the faint nostalgia in his smile. “Bet you were the kid trying to climb the Santa statue or grab way too many samples.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he admitted, grinning now. “Emma and I had a contest one year to see who could make a better snow angel, on the fake snow, of course. I won, but she still claims the judges were biased.”

“Who were the judges?” you asked, laughing.

“Mom and Dad.”

You snorted. “Oh yeah, definitely biased.”

His smile softened, and he squeezed your hand. “It’s nice, though… coming back. And with you this time.” His voice dropped, quieter now, almost drowned out by the noise around you. “Makes it even better.”

A flutter of warmth rose in your chest. “You’re getting sappy, Shelton.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he teased, but his hand slipped from yours only to wind around your waist, pulling you closer. The gentle kiss he pressed to your temple sent a wave of calm through you, even in the lively chaos of the market.

“C’mon,” you said, nudging him. “Let’s see if there's anything exciting.”

The next stall you stopped at displayed rows of hand-poured candles in every scent imaginable. A cheerful woman greeted you, gesturing toward her neatly labelled jars.

“Christmas tree,” you mumbled as you read off one, uncapping it to take a sniff. The sharp, woodsy aroma filled your nose, instantly conjuring images of decorated evergreens.

“Good, huh?” Ben asked, leaning over your shoulder to smell it too. His arms stayed snug around your torso as he did, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Too much pine,” you decided, setting it down and picking up another.

“Ooh, peppermint hot chocolate. That’s festive.”

“Smells like dessert,” Ben said, then leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “Maybe I’ll get it so you think about me every time you light it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Smooth.”

“That’s me,” he winked, clearly pleased with himself as he added the candle to your growing collection of finds.

The two of you wandered further, pausing at a table of hand-crafted perfumes. Glass bottles in soft, pastel hues lined the display, each promising something unique.

“Pick one,” Ben said, nudging you toward the table.

“For me?” you asked.

“Well sorta, but more for me,” he corrected, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So every time you wear it, I remember this night.”

You reached for a bottle labelled “Winter Bloom,” its description promising hints of jasmine and frosted cedar. The soft, delicate scent won you over immediately, and you handed it to Ben, who promptly handed over cash to the vendor in a heartbeat without even sniffing it or giving you time to protest.

“You’re impossible,” you said, shaking your head.

“And yet you’re still here,” he shot back, pulling you into another kiss, this one deeper and lingering.

The warmth of the moment carried you to the next row of stalls, where a small crowd gathered around an artisan baking display. Cookbooks with ornate covers were stacked neatly beside racks of cookie cutters and colourful frosting tubes.

“Hey, look at this one,” you said, picking up a book titled Holiday Baking Delights. Its whimsical illustrations of gingerbread houses and festive cakes made it impossible to resist. “We should have a baking day.”

Ben quirked a brow. “You’re planning a whole day just to bake?”

“Absolutely. Cakes, gingerbread men...maybe even a pie if we’re ambitious!”

He smirked, pulling you closer by the waist. “You mean you're baking while I supervise.”

“I’m an excellent baker. You can do the dishes too if you'd like” you shot back.

“Hm, I think I'll assign myself as a taste tester and entertainment,” he countered, nuzzling into your hair. “Can’t wait. Just promise not to kick me out of the kitchen when I eat all the cookie dough.”

“Only if you leave enough for the actual cookies,” you said, laughing as you handed the book to the vendor.

Ben shook his head, his grin softening as he looked at you. “You know you’re cute when you get all excited like this, planning days ahead together.”

You looked into his eyes and leaned into him, letting his warmth anchor you as the two of you moved along.

You stopped at a display of delicate glass ornaments shaped like snowflakes and reindeer, their edges catching the light in a way that made them seem almost magical. Ben held up a particularly goofy one shaped like a Christmas pickle, declaring it “too iconic to pass up.”

“Ben,” you groaned through a laugh, nudging his side. “That's so ugly.”

“Come on,” he argued, holding it up to the light dramatically. “This little guy has character. Look deeper.”

You shook your head, moving down the display while Ben trailed after you. Among the whimsical designs, your eyes landed on an angel ornament. It was breathtaking; soft glass handmade and shaped into an angel soaring upward, offering a dove in its hands. Gold and silver flecks were delicately mixed into its flowing form, catching the glow of nearby lights. Its weight felt solid, important, as you picked it up carefully.

Ben leaned over your shoulder, his hand cupping yours as he reached to steady the ornament.

“Wow,” he murmured. “This one’s something else.”

“It’s so beautiful,” you gasped, turning it slightly to admire the details.

“It’s more than beautiful,” Ben replied, his voice quieter now. “Feels special, huh?”

He reached into his pocket for his wallet without hesitation. “We’re getting it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, though you couldn’t bring yourself to put it back, your eyes stuck onto the delicate figure.

“Of course,” he said, his eyes lingering on the angel. “It deserves to be on the tree.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding the ornament between you. Your brain slowly processed Ben's words; deserves to be on the tree. Your mind wandered to Lisa’s earlier comments about the ornament she and Bryan had from their first Christmas together. Somehow, this angel felt like a continuation of that story, a chapter for you and Ben, one that hadn't even been set yet by you intentionally. It was almost as though it were God or fate itself and whatever it was, it seemed to fall into place for Ben too as his hand shifted, his thumb brushing lightly against yours as he looked from the ornament to you.

“When we’re married,” he began softly, almost as if the words escaped him without thought, “we’ll buy another ornament like this… for our first Christmas together.”

Your heart caught in your chest at the quiet sincerity in his tone, his words hitting the reality you had barely processed internally. It wasn’t a grand declaration, just a gentle truth spoken as if he was seeing it unfold in his mind.

You turned your head to meet him, your eyes searching his face. He wasn’t grinning like he usually would after a smooth line or quick remark. Instead, he was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Ben…” you started, but the words trailed off, your emotions tangling in your throat.

He blinked, and a faint blush rose on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose as if he just realised he’d spoken out loud. “Uh...unless you hate the idea,” he added quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “In which case, forget I said anything. I didn't! Total brain slip.”

You shook your head, a soft laugh breaking through your lips. “I don’t hate the idea, silly,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His shoulders relaxed, and he let out a sigh and a chuckle, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I really meant it.”

The moment felt suspended, glowing like the lights around you. Finally, he handed the ornament to the vendor, carefully ensuring it was wrapped and protected before tucking it safely into the bag with the other small market finds. The angel seemed to hold more than just glass and flecks of gold and silver, it held a promise. One you were both content to wait for but knew in your hearts was already as real as the warmth of his hand in yours.

The moment settled as you continued your exploration, soon followed by more jokes and terribly smooth lines. By the time you reached the cider stand, your hands were full of bags, and your cheeks ached from smiling so much. Sipping on the warm, spiced drink, you leaned into Ben, who wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“This might be one of my favourite Christmas traditions now,” you admitted.

He glanced down at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing yours softly. “Mine too,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. Then, with a grin, he added, “Even if I’m carrying all these tiny paper bags.”

You laughed, letting the sound blend with the cheerful buzz of the market, knowing this was a moment you’d carry with you long after the lights were packed away for the season.

As you sat and talked, debriefing the stalls and resting up, the crowd shifted, and Ben was suddenly hailed by a familiar voice from behind.

“Shelton! No way, man!”

Ben turned, a grin breaking across his face as a group of guys his age closed in. Dressed casually but with a distinctly college sports vibe, they greeted him with a mix of backslaps and playful shoves, the kind of camaraderie that spoke of long hours spent on courts and fields.

“Look who it is,” one of them teased, crossing his arms with mock indignation. “Thought you were too busy being famous to hang out in Gainesville anymore.”

Ben laughed, throwing his hands up. “What can I say? I heard you guys were still here and couldn’t resist.”

“Oh yeah? We figured you forgot all about us. Moved on to bigger fish.”

“Nah, same ol’ me,” Ben replied, his grin widening. “What’s new with you guys? Still running the intramural circuit, or have you retired?”

“Please, we could still crush you,” another chimed in, jabbing a finger at Ben’s chest. “You might have the serve, but we’ve got stamina.”

Ben raised his eyebrows, leaning casually against you as he broke into that gummy smile and loud, boisterous voice. “The kind of stamina that left you gasping during our last match? I think we're rememberin' it differently, man.”

The group roared with laughter, clapping Ben on the shoulder as they bantered back and forth.

As the guys exchanged rapid-fire jokes, Ben slipped his arm more securely around your waist, drawing you slightly forward. “Guys, this is my girl,” he said, his voice warm and proud. “She’s just been introduced to the chaos that is the Sheltons' Christmas.”

“Ah, so you’re the one putting up with him now,” one of them said with a grin, extending a hand to dap up yours. “Condolences.”

Ben rolled his eyes but tightened his arm around you. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. She’s got better taste than all of you combined.”

You chuckled, dapping a few hands as introductions and jokes circled loosely, and before long, they were back to ribbing Ben about everything from his college game to his inability to blend into a crowd anymore.

“Seriously, though,” one of them said, crossing his arms with a mock-serious expression. “How does it feel to be the golden child of Gainesville? We're gettin' griefed over your whole legacy.”

Ben shook his head, his laughter easy and genuine. “Man, I’m just here for the fried Oreos. Gator pride doesn’t stand a chance against those.”

The group dissolved into more laughter, the energy infectious. For a while, you stood beside Ben, enjoying the warmth of the moment. He was clearly in his element, his laughter brighter and his jokes sharper as he fell back into the rhythm of old friendships.

But as their conversation turned to recounting games and road trips that you weren’t a part of, your attention started to drift. That’s when your eyes landed on a quieter corner of the market, where a small, unassuming booth caught your attention. The sign above it read Silver & Steel, and something about its simplicity called to you.

Leaning into Ben, you tugged his sleeve lightly, quiet not to interrupt the current conversation. “I’m going to wander for a bit, okay?”

Ben’s laughter softened as he looked down at you, his expression shifting to something more tender as he cupped your face softly, tucking hair behind your ear. “You sure? I can come with you in a second.”

You shook your head, smiling. “No, no. Stay and catch up. I’ll be right back.”

His eyes lingered on you, warm and steady. “Don’t get lost,” he teased, pecking your cheek before letting you go. “I’ll come find you if you do.”

You laughed softly, slipping through the crowd toward the silver stall, while behind you, Ben’s laughter picked up again, blending seamlessly with the lively hum of the market.

The silver stall was tucked away from the main thoroughfare, its quiet contrast drawing you in. The old man running it looked up from polishing a bracelet as you approached, his weathered face breaking into a kind smile.

“Evening, miss,” he greeted, his voice gravelly but warm. “Looking for something special tonight?”

You glanced over the display, captivated by the understated elegance of the pieces. Rings, bracelets, cufflinks, and keychains, each item was crafted with a simplicity that was masculine and timeless. The soft glow of the polished silver under the warm lights was mesmerising.

“These are amazing! All made locally?” you said, running a finger lightly over a sleek keychain engraved with Roman numerals.

“Mhm, yep thank you,” the man replied, setting down his polishing cloth. “Been doing this for over forty years. Every piece’s got a story waiting to be written.”

You smiled at the sentiment and glanced over your shoulder. Ben was still deep in conversation with his friends, his head tipped back in laughter. He looked so at ease, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke. A pang of warmth spread through you, and you turned back to the display with a clearer purpose.

“I think I’d like to write one of those stories,” you said softly, your eyes settling on a ring, a simple band, smooth with some ridges and unadorned except for the possibility of engraving. “Could you engrave initials on this?”

The old man nodded. “Absolutely. What initials are we putting on it?”

“B and-” You paused, your cheeks heating as you whispered the rest of your initials to him.

He chuckled knowingly as he shot up a glance over to where you were just looking. “Young love. Nothing quite like it.”

You giggled shyly, glancing again at the stall’s offerings. Another item caught your eye: a small, rectangular keychain plate, its surface just wide enough for something simple. The thought of engraving your anniversary in Roman numerals struck you, an intimate, subtle way for Ben to carry a piece of you wherever he went.

“And this,” you added, picking it up. “Can we do Roman numerals? For a date.”

“Of course,” he said. “Got the date in mind?”

You told him your anniversary date, watching as he carefully jotted it down. He took both items and began his work with a diode laser cutter, his movements deliberate and practised.

As he engraved, you struck up a quiet conversation. He shared stories about how he’d started the shop back in the seventies, and how Gainesville’s Christmas market had always been his favorite event of the year. You told him a little about yourself too, skimming the surface but enough to let him know why these pieces were so important. When he finished, he held them out to you with a smile. The ring gleamed under the lights in its soft blue velvet box, your initials etched delicately on the inside of the band. The keychain plate, meanwhile, sat in a red velvet box, slightly larger as it bore the Roman numerals of your anniversary, its clean lines perfect and understated.

“These turned out beautifully,” you said, your voice filled with quiet awe.

“They’re for someone special,” the man said simply, packing them carefully into a small velvet pouch. “That kind of love deserves something lasting.”

You paid and thanked him, clutching the small bag in your hand and hiding it in your jacket pocket as you turned to head back toward Ben. He was still with his friends, but his eyes caught yours immediately as you approached, lighting up in that way that always made your heart skip.

“Everything good?” he asked, breaking from his conversation to reach for you instinctively, his hand settling at your waist.

“Perfect,” you said, slipping the pouch discreetly into your pocket. His hand tightened slightly on your hip, his lips brushing your temple as if he couldn’t help himself.

Ben turned back to his friends with a content smile, but you couldn’t stop glancing at the pouch in your pocket, already imagining the look on his face when he saw what you’d chosen.

The evening wound down with the two of you making your way back to the car. Emma had waved goodbye at the market entrance, letting you both know she was staying a bit longer as she rejoined her friends. Now it was just you and Ben under the soft glow of string lights, the buzz of the market fading behind you.

Once inside the car, Ben started the engine, the faint hum filling the space. His hand found its way to your thigh again, a familiar gesture that made you smile.

“So you went explorin' without me?” he teased, his thumb drawing lazy circles through the fabric. “You didn’t get lost, did you?”

“Not at all,” you said with a smirk, leaning back in your seat. “But if I had, I’m sure my knight in shining tennis gear would’ve come to rescue me.”

“Damn right I would’ve,” he replied, shooting you a grin, his confidence tinged with playfulness. "If you hadn’t come back when you did, I was this close to pulling a market-wide search party. ‘Has anyone seen my girlfriend? She’s the cute one, probably holding something sparkly.’”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “You’re silly.”

“Yeah, but you love me for it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“Mm, debatable,” you teased, biting back a grin of your own.

As the streets of Gainesville stretched out before you, dotted with houses wrapped in holiday lights, Ben glanced over. “Thanks for coming tonight. I know it wasn’t exactly Wimbledon-level excitement, but…”

“Ben,” you interrupted softly, looking at him with a smile that you knew reached your eyes. “It was perfect. I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice dipping into something quieter, more sincere.

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Besides, I got to watch you charm half the market and run into old friends. Pretty much a hometown hero, aren’t you?”

“Oh, totally,” he said, the playful edge returning to his tone. “They’re probably erecting a statue of me as we speak.’”

You shook your head, laughing again.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, the house glowed warmly, the Christmas tree twinkling in the window like it had been waiting just for you. Ben killed the engine but didn’t move to get out right away. Instead, he turned toward you, his gaze soft in the dim light.

“Tonight was really good,” he said quietly, his hand brushing against yours. “Thanks for making it better.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied, leaning toward him. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the one who made it better.”

His lips found yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate as if he wanted to savour every moment. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his grin lazy and content.

“Let’s get inside,” he murmured. “I’ve got a date with those goodies we bought. I also bought some candied pecans!”

Laughing, you grabbed your bag of goodies and followed him up the steps. The scent of pine and freshly baked sugar cookies greeted you, promising warmth, laughter, and more unforgettable holiday memories.

[mothdruid]

Happy birthday!!

For your blurb party....how about TG:M Bob and “what are you doing here?”

thank you so much emily! i'm sorry but this turned out a little more angsty than i intended.

His heart was racing as he made his way up the stairs. Each beat could be heard in his ear drums. Nervous beats driving his anxiety through the roof. Bob wasn't exactly sure why he was doing this, but he just had too. Especially after hearing that you were leaving. He refused to let you leave without telling you.

The summer had been perfect.

He hadn't expected you to come home for the summer. It was more than a pleasant surprise. Then when you continually came by his families coffee shop he knew something was different. The way the two of you kept stealing glances from another. All the late nights at the coffee shop, you staying to help him close then heading to the old ice cream shop. Staying out under the stars while the both of you finished your cold sweet.

Throughout the summer he had learned that you had someone waiting for you back in the city. That someone wasn't the best though, a blonde model looking douche bag that treated you like shit. Bob didn't understand why you stayed with him still, and honestly it didn't sound to him like you did either. He had tried hard to understand, but you also didn't really try to explain it too him.

Then one night to two of you went out to the bar. Drinks after drinks, a random shot here and there. By time last call rolled around the two of you were laughing and stumbling down the street. You were attached to his side, one arm thrown around his shoulder and directing him towards the apartment you were renting. It was above one of shops on main street, meaning a set of stairs would be an obstacle.

Once in the apartment, you had pulled him onto the bed with you. That was when you told him "I wish I would have never left" and he asked the age old question "why?". That was when you moved closer to him and caressed his face.

"I love you."

Your body had felt perfect underneath of him. Skin softer than he could have ever imagined. Each noise that came from you sounded like a symphony. The way your hands ghosted over his own body, chest pressed tightly to his. Feeling the pure ecstasy running from your body to his. It was enough to set the world on fire.

But once the two of you woke the world shattered. Reality was back, the alcohol having left your systems. He felt terrible when you started to panic and break down. Bob held you as you sobbed against his chest. When you asked him to leave it broke him. Then when he heard you were leaving town next week he couldn't function.

And now he stood in front of the old apartment door. There were only two days left. It had taken him a long time to gather the courage to face you. To potentially break what tiny amount of friendship the two of you still had, if any at all.

He knocked lightly.

Bob was shocked when you opened the door quickly. You honestly looked like a mess, but still beautiful to him.

"What are you doing here?"

"You can't leave," Bob pleaded.

"Wha-what?" You asked him.

"You can't leave," Bob repeated. "I'm sorry about that night, but I love you and I can't stand the thought of you going back to him."

"Bob, we can't do this," your eyes were starting to tear up.

"That's not true," Bob's own eyes were starting to tear up.

"Bob," you stepped towards him.

Bob felt you press your lips to his. They were just as soft as that night. The kiss reminded him of all the emotions from that night. You had said that you loved him, and he could feel it through the kiss. But before he knew it, you were pulling back and stepping back into the apartment.

"I love you, but I'm sorry."

Those were the last words he heard before you closed the door on him.

[loonarii]

Ari's K-Pop Roundup: March 2024 (ILLIT, ARTMS, CHUNGHA, VCHA + MORE)

Check out last months installment here :) sidenote: sorry about this episode being a bit heavy on the smaller reviews - have been experiencing a cruel and unusual combination of illness and exam season lol - next month will hopefully be slightly better

Magnetic - ILLIT (SUPER REAL ME)

Whether you watched HYBE's 2023 idol survival show 'R U Next?' or you had the self preservation to skip it, if you were into k-pop at that time, you definitely heard about it. The show gained attention from the community originally because it was from HYBE, the newest, and arguably currently the most influential k-pop company goliath, and because HYBE's girl groups (notably Le Sserafim and NewJeans) are famous for influencing the kpop scene instantly upon debut, and maintaining their spots in the top 10s of the charts for many months. This was HYBE giving us a look behind the curtain at the making of the next big girl group, and letting us call a lot of the shots along the way. Or at least that's what it was supposed to be. Rigging in these type of idol shows is practically expected, but HYBE was a new offender, and their crimes weren't only frequent, but pretty obvious. The fans protested, but nothing changed. ILLIT, the group that emerged on the other side, was a group that was hardly a showcase of the talent on display on the show, nor a reflection of the fans and their biases. It was a reflection of who the producers felt fit their pre-established concept for the group, an influencing factor that wasn't made clear to the fans watching, nor potentially, to the idols participating. Ironically, since the whole point of a survival show is to drum up support and build a fanbase for a group's upcoming debut, ILLIT has arguably started off on a worse foot than if they had just dropped 'Magnetic' on YouTube out of nowhere, NewJeans 'Attention' style.

However, regardless of their rocky start, ILLIT is here, with their debut mini album 'SUPER REAL ME', featuring the title track 'Magnetic' - let's talk about it. 'Magnetic' capitalizes on that glitchy, 8-bit, distorted, bedroom pop sound that's been blowing up recently, both in the k-pop industry by NewJeans, LOONA, and tripleS, and in the western space by Pinkpantheress. It's easily catchy, and highly danceable, and the members sound amazing on it - I felt especially drawn to Minju's delivery, her vocal tone is beautifully unique, and Wonhee did a stellar job as the centric member of the choruses. Magnetic's allusions to NewJeans are undeniable, if only lacking that certain NewJeans je ne sais quoi. I don't really have a problem with this, if I get more fun songs out of groups allegedly 'copying' NewJeans then it's a win for me, my only fear is that if ILLIT doesn't find their own niche they will be called knock-off NewJeans for the rest of their careers, which isn't fair to the girls. TripleS got accused of something similar back with AAA's 'Generation', but since then they have carved out a space for themselves in the industry, making music and exploring aesthetics others aren't.

As for the b-sides, I was kind of obsessed with 'My World', even though it is functionally an intro; it's such an unexpected earworm. 'Midnight Fiction' is cute, even if I think it needed another hook or layer of production to elevate it more. 'Lucky Girl Syndrome' is slightly better than 'Midnight Fiction', but a bit worse than 'Magnetic'. It's very obvious that the title came before the track, and it bizarrely sounds kind of like 'Sensitive' by Loossemble? The chorus is slightly weak, but I am obsessed with the instrumentation and the production choices - this song sounds nothing like NewJeans, I really hope they draw from this vibe in their future releases.

Overall, a pretty decent debut. You will definitely catch me streaming 'Magnetic' over the next few weeks, whether it will have the longevity to stick around in my playlist for longer remains to be seen. Good luck ILLIT, you've had a rough start in the industry, but it's clear that they have a big career ahead of them, and I for one, am seated.

Pre1: Birth - ARTMS [LOONA] (Dall)

After an iconic run of Haseul and Heejin's solo projects, as well as ODD EYE CIRCLE's first release out of BBC, 5/12 of the LOONA girls are here as ARTMS. 'Birth' is a song that operates outside of the conventions of kpop formulae; its experimental, confrontational, melancholy and bears an undercurrent of rage. Tonally and structurally it is unique from anything being released right now, and lyrically its compelling and mysterious. If this is a taste of what the upcoming album is going to sound like, I am extremely excited.

The music video is one of the best kpop has to offer - its so unlike anything else I have seen. I heavily encourage you all to go check out the theories the orbits/ouriis have been cooking up because LOONA LORE IS BACK!! I am very curious if the loossemble lore will link to this in any way, but that remains to be seen.

EENIE MEENIE - CHUNG HA, feat. HONGJOONG

Chungha is back, with a new company and an old concept. I'm not sure how to feel about this track, its clear she feels very confident in this style and it does suit her more than 'Sparkling', but I think 'Sparkling' was overall a better song. The production of 'Eenie Meenie' is very high quality and I especially loved that guitar layer in the chorus, and bringing Hongjoong in for a verse was a great call, he fits the song and matches Chungha's vibe perfectly. Unfortunately however, I don't find the chorus to be very catchy, which is clearly what the song is banking on in order to chart. The whole 'eenie meenie minie mo' thing is odd, but honestly could have been worse if this song had been given to anyone other than Chungha, the real death sentence for this song was the lack of interesting melody. I'm happy that Chungha is now making the kind of music she wants to, I just hope that the quality of releases go up in the future.

Only One - VCHA

Who knew that when Fifty Fifty crumbled due to their (allegedly) god awful company, it would be VCHA of all groups to successfully pick up the retro girlpop gauntlet?? 'Only One' is genuinely so fun, that post chorus is a killer, and even the mildly awkward writing clears up after the first verse. The girls have such great chemistry, and they are all genuinely improving their skills every comeback, and although I may have questioned JYP's decision to debut girls who had barely been in training, seeing the girls improve in real time is lowkey actually a selling point - like now I want to pay attention to them to see how good they are going to get?? JYP making an intelligent marketing decision?? In this economy?? Congratulations VCHA, you have officially established yourself as a force to be reckoned with, KATSEYE had better bring the heat when they debut to compete with this.

MINI REVIEWS:

Get Goin' - aespa: did you know this song existed? no! Is it surprisingly really fun? well yes! not sure what aespa has to do with fraggle rock, but if it takes Apple TV spamming SM Entertianment's dms to get aespa to release more music, then that's what must be done.

The knight who can't die and the silk cradle - LUCY: (req. by @a-moth-to-the-light) I've always been mildly aware of LUCY, but until my moot requested I review their latest release, I had never heard any of their songs. Needless to say, I was severely impressed. This song is so cinematic and heartfelt - to my knowledge it isn't part of an OST to a particularly cinematic kdrama, but it might as well be. I heavily encourage you all to go watch the mv with subtitles on, or read the translation, because lyrically this is a masterpiece. LUCY, you have officially caught my attention, I will be checking out future releases.

Paths to home - 문채원, HOWUS: The music video for this song, at time of writing, currently has 147 views, I have no clue how I stumbled across it, but I am so glad I did. 'Paths to home' is a beautifully constructed and performed citypop inspired track that to me evokes LOONA's early discography, especially those from Hyunjin's solo project. It is so perfectly constructed to my tastes, I love it to death. I have no idea how 'HOWUS' as a project works, I don't know if it's a group, a company, a subunit, or apparently even when it was released because according to some websites it came out in 2022 (the struggles of extremely nugu kpop cannot be understated), but what I do know is that this song deserves more attention, and I adore it. This is one for the NewJeans, LOONA yyxy, tripleS +(KR)ystal Eyes girlies.

Wish You Hell - WENDY (Red Velvet): SM finally gave Wendy a song that isn't a ballad!!! This song is pretty fun, but I wish it bit more oomph. The lyrics leave much to be desired, but Wendy's vocal performance is naturally very high quality, although I wish she went a bit harder in some sections - she's singing about wishing someone hell, but tonally it sounds like she's serenading them lol. A fun song, could have been better with another few drafts. Seulgi's 'best Red Velvet solo project' crown is yet to slip.

BBB - Purple Kiss: I will never shut the fuck up about how good 'Zombie' is, so seeing them explore similar sounds is so exciting for me!! 'BBB' is a very easy going listen, never awkward, never unpleasant, and although I think it needed a little something more to elevate it, it's a fun song I could easily see myself loving this summer. Swan absolutely ate up this comeback btw.

XXL - YOUNG POSSE: Bizarre sfx aside, I am very glad young posse is attempting to bring back 2000s hip hop into kpop, even if the execution is mildly clunky.

[captainkurosolaire]

Sublunary Love

A ghastly apparition tread to where a contract flower would be reunited its garden. Upon crossing a bridge the rushing river-stream he foresaw that abhorrent reflection of a deathly harvester. It wasn't honorable to present himself in this manner. There's a moment to sheathe. Value's learned, conscious of choice was his belonging. Time to rectify his mistakes in their short-date. He'd clean, bandaging wounds, dressing formally. Having a hobble-step, but stony composed. Fellow amber-hues, enlarged of Kunoichi, as she opened a door-knock, with a coquettish grin, purring cat-like, "Wow our favorite slayer returns, meeeow. Strikingly!" The colorful-assassin imparted. Then gave a boop upon his nose, teasingly, "She's all yours, we'll reconvene one-day. Imagine repercussions will come. Should those-arise, I'll be close. Embrace solitude, stud." Companionship offered. Overall drowning her feelings. Answer was clear towards Shaman's effect on him. Those who're sentenced amongst darkness, may find a vigil-light they're in need to crawl out. Dangerous-heel's clacked distantly, his voice-interrupted, turned and eastern-bowed, "Thank you." Nerves in his facial-features couldn't function, yet emotion's in voice resonated harmonic. Ya'chi could truly-depart with a proven gleam; waving him off. His new-wielded blade; was a Sakurasou as he approached Client. She'd comment, "Someone's always got tricks! Arsenal of killer-techniques. Should've expected you'd complete my task without any hiccups. As I vowed, I'll not bother any-longer, you're free." Sorrow tinged in octaves, extending her fetch for flora retrieval. Unexpected, he struck. Knees collapsed beneath her stead, with-forgiveness. His thumb-ever bent the tip of a petal, intentionally, wasn't enough to damage, but showcase blemish. Sincerely billowed, "I'm afraid, I've failed the contract... I'd seemingly lose, again and again, with you." Inflection carried emotions. Crossed-hand's came over her facial-features gasping, awestruck. Confession played, "...But what's inside me tells me, I'm victorious within your company; that I am. If given opportunity, I Hoku, would properly like to show you a true date." Not only did the nameless-one, shed his name, he was proposing for a date? What a goof-ball! She'd hysterically cackle, eyes-teared happiness, "...Such unpredictability. I accept, also I'm Rokeia! You're silly too, even under those guises of a formidable-killer! Not certain what your disciplinary training did... Only thing, missing is this..." Two-fingers intersected across his lip's spread into a kingly smile. Her warm-sensations, made eyes-close; intoxicating peace. Revealing coyly, "I'll have to equip you with these from now-on Mister! Smiles lay important, keeping darkness at their bay not to be all-consuming; but still to be marveled. Like the Sun's Setting Shadow!" Thriving knowledge was given. She's life - a road light, left-on for creatures that hunt as night, a soothsayer which awakens those beastly hearts from captivity. He's shadow - avatar of death, cold-steel of security, carrying resolve that'd arm upon need. Hoku detached his weaponry, only him remained. "I only want to be with you." A palpable heart-beat, Thrummed... Thumped... Drummed Her own hypnotically sung. Blush-ignited her cheeks; crimson for once not of blood was made, "...Y-you assassinate many barriers, such trouble, it's unfair!" Making a pretend-pout. Spider-like-digits; heavenly splendors, tracing from his woven lips until her delicate palms melted his cheeks; wielding him. Attention orbited to her, type shadows followed if permitted. Mirror motions came descending to eye-level. Her violet-orbs encouraged those star-golden, twinkling for cosmic unity. Following, would be their first joining of many. A force known as [us.] emerged. Promising eternal, ever-afters. The balanced-kiss, sealed it.

[Prev:Chapter]: Unsheathe, Heart ~ ♪"Eternal Requiem"♪

[pearynice]

Chapter 4

Or, start at the beginning!

Summary: He never wanted this, is the thing. Never wanted to stay in Hawkins. Never wanted to work for his father. Never wanted to be the guy who peaked in high school. But once his options had dried up, this is exactly where Steve Harrington ends up.

Enter Eddie Munson, who tears all of that to shreds, thank god.

Excerpt: Steve’s dripping blood all over the front seat of Eddie’s van.  “Sorry.” He croaks, his hands cupped under his cheek as the blood pools in his palms, some of it slipping between his fingers to land on his jeans. Steve watches the drops fall, bright crimson dots that splatter against his light wash jeans.  He hopes they’re not out of stain stick. Eddie tsks, reaching across Steve’s lap and opening the glove box, rifling through before pulling out a crumpled mass of takeout napkins. “They’re clean.” He promises, and hands them over.  Steve, one handed, cups the napkins to his cheek. “Thanks.” He slurs, his mouth hot and swollen. 

“Don’t mention it.”  Then, over gravel and grass, Eddie pulls away from the dwindling party. The bumpy road makes the pain in Steve’s shoulder flare, and he hisses as his elbow knocks against the door.  “We’re almost on the road.” Eddie reassures, quiet. Steve closes his eyes, tries to focus on breathing, focus on the rise and fall of his chest as Eddie’s old van rumbles over the dirt. The napkins in his hand are already beginning to dampen, and he hopes his cheek slows before more drips over Eddie’s interior. His dad’s gonna fucking kill him. But he’s glad, at the very least, that Robin isn’t seeing him like this. He knows she’d panic, worry about tetanus and infection and prod him about hospitals and any other odd number of things until he’s spiraling right alongside her. But Eddie said he spotted her climbing into someone else’s car, and Steve hopes it was Vickie’s.  He maybe crosses his fingers that it was Vickie’s.  He hopes his parents are asleep by now, hopes they drank enough at whatever function they’d attended that they won’t wake when he comes home.  Steve lets out an exhale when they finally get on the road, the asphalt far more forgiving on his stiff and aching shoulder. “You can take a right up here.” Steve says, as they approach the stop sign. “I don’t live far.” Eddie snorts. “Yeah, like I’m taking you home right now.” The van slows. “Dude, your cheek is busted. Your shoulder needs set. I’m taking you to the hospital.” Steve jolts, his shoulder burning as he does. “Woah, no way, man. My dad will skin me alive if he finds out.” He swallows, pushing his panic down. “Just—take me home.” He adds, calmer. “I’ll be fine.” The van stops. Steve adjusts his hold on the mess of napkins, wishing he could see Eddie, see if he’s going to heed his words. But his eye is swollen nearly shut, and the thought of twisting to look at him makes Steve’s shoulder pulse. “‘Then ‘m taking you to my place.” Eddie decides. The van moves again. “My uncle’s a vet, man, he’ll patch you up.” Steve bites at his cheek. “‘S not that bad. Bleeding’s slowin’ down.” “And your shoulder?” Eddie asks, and Steve can see him flick his hand out of the corner of his eye. “Even I can see that thing needs set, man.” Steve’s quiet, and Eddie fiddles around for a moment before music he’s never heard before begins playing. Loud, with pounding drums and ringing strings, and it does little to help the pounding that’s beginning to set in behind his eyes.  After several turns he closes his eyes and tries to settle back into the seat, but pain shoots from his shoulder through his chest when he does, stealing the breath from his lungs. So he sits, straight backed and stiff, as the van rumbles on.  He wonders how the hell he’s supposed to play this off to his parents. If they’ll believe him if he says he didn’t start it.  Not long after the van stops again. Steve cracks an eye open to see Eddie hopping out, jogging around the front to open Steve’s door. “C’mon tiger,” Eddie encourages, holding out his hand for the third time that night, “bandages and painkillers await.”

Thank you to my beta, @ghostdeb

Tagging people who were interested, just let me know if you would like on or off 🫶

@hbyrde36 @starryeyedjanai @perseus-notjackson @hotluncheddie @theheadlessphilosopher @steddie-island @sidekick-hero @finntheehumaneater

[emptymanuscript]

Holeee f.... wow, Sinners was AAA+ with extra credit great.

It did not have to go that hard but it did and 97% fresh is kinda not really doing it justice.

That's a 100%.

That's a Secretariat winning the triple crown, Babe Ruth knocking it out of the park, have you heard of this new movie, the Matrix, good. deserves to sweep everything like Everything, Everywhere, All at once.

Jordan deserves best actor for it. He nailed it. Twice. And that's underselling it.

Like it's a ha ha bit for the first few minutes, yeah, they split the shot, and filmed it twice. Classic. For a reason. ...and then you just forget that Smoke and Stack aren't actually played by real life twins instead of just one actor.

By the time those hats come off, there is no mistaking them for each other. They move different. They talk different. They emote different. BUT also not so different that you ever have the thought that they aren't twins who have spent their entire lives bouncing off of each other. This whole movie is him showing off just how amazing an actor he is, in nearly every scene. And just... killing it every single time.

And, AND, everyone else in it is amazing, too. I don't think I ever had a moment of, wow, stellar acting, everyone just smacks you over the head and drags you under so you forget they're actors on a set.

And the film lives up to it. I swear there are so many shots that just could have been paintings, they're so good. I know there's CGI in there but there's so much traditional old fashion technique that you never even think about it. It's just a masterpiece.

While the story is tight as a drum. Like you can see exactly what the movie is doing and it doesn't matter because it's just... phhh... high art. It plays on you recognizing what is going on and delivers it perfectly with enough nudge to satisfy, nope this one is different, wink, wink, and so it is entirely functional without the reference, too. The tension just spools along from the opening shot to the moment the credits start to roll and it keeps going.

This is sort of thing I HOPE writers study to see how it works because this is the sort of story worth learning the clockwork for.

And good lord, the dance scene.

Just magic.

Pure magic.

True magic.

The sort of magic that most of Hollywood hasn't just lost but never even remotely had.

And it managed that more than once, too.

Ugh T__T it was so, so, so good!!

I'm glad the preview is pretty darn good because I have zero way how to sell it to people who need to see it without spoiling it to hell and back. Like, even the thing that it most powerfully occurs to me to compare it to is kinda a potentially massive spoiler.

Seriously. If you like that kind of slow burn social drama horror - I don't know how else to describe it - where it's more about real people than the monster and the monster is absolutely an expression of real social constructs, yeah, this'll knock your socks off.

I don't think my wife and I were the only ones whispering to each other during the movie how much we freaking loved this movie.

[swimmingferret]

okay so thanks to rosewood1999 for translating this anon for me lmao

I'm gonna presume you're talking about Skinned Hearts, anon, as that's the only Reader fic I'm writing

so I'll just copy/paste the chapter I've already got done and waiting (in the far...far future) of when Red first gets an idea that she's knocked up. Marv remains the bestie

"What?"

"Well by human standards it's that way," Marv shrugged, though his eyes were bright and sharp despite his nonchalant posture, "Ya know, pukin', felling like shit, dizziness, eating anything you can get your hands on."

You frowned at the demon who looked fairly unbothered by your glare before trying to focus your attention inward. Again, you just got an odd fuzziness like a television on bad reception. A part of you wanted to protest Marv's suggestion as you'd done scans on yourself before, you knew the necessary organs of yours didn't work. For demons, their fertility was largely up the type of demon they were and some didn't even reproduce normally- you knew of one type that could 'breed' via shucking off their skin, stuffing it with bonemeal and burning it to create an offspring. But with humans they only had one method and while you and Vergil had been intimate you had never gone through a human menstrual cycle. By that logic you should be sterile or infertile. Even with your previous scans of your body those organs had essentially been stagnant.

So you were skeptical despite Marv's suggestion.

Though you had noticed the lessening of your devil soul in the consolidation of aura in your abdomen. You just assumed your demon spirit was reacting negatively to your emotional upheaval same with your exhaustion. After all there was a reason why the Queens of demonic species were always so much larger and stronger than the males or drones- it was because they had to bear the strain of birth and had the might to back it up. So the lethargy you were feeling potentially had that problem.

"But I can't be," you instead protested, "Those organs don't work."

"Two to tango right? You had a honey you were interested in right and that's how humans function." Marv paused, drumming his talons on the counter before saying, "Though did you...Uh, go through with the courtship? Or did your eggs just go 'lets rumble' and do it on their own?"

"Stop talking about my eggs," you said, annoyed, "Humans don't reproduce that way anyway. But um. Yes I. Did."

You fell silent, feeling too uncomfortable to talk further. Marv probably just had a scientific interest in that but you weren't interested in elaborating too much especially considering how your relationship with Vergil had burned down so spectacularly.

Marv rolled his eyes, "Alright so we can try the human way then? Since like, you're half one."

A part of you was gratefully he wasn't pushing though you wondered about the 'human way' as he pushed away from the counter and went down one of the aisles. There was some grumbling as the Púca browsed the shelves before letting out a triumphant noise as he snatched up something from the bottom most one.

"Ah here we go," Marv thrust a narrow box at you, "It's somethin' humans use to check if they're knocked up. Go piss on this then wait twenty seconds."

"Excuse me?"

"Sounds weird I know but humans get like chemical fuckups when they're carrying pups or whatever the shit they call their young. I know a dude who owns a human farm and that's how he checks 'em, only one who really buys them but whatever. It's an actual thing humans can do since they only like have sprogs one way."

"...Right."

"You know where the bathroom is. And y'all paying for that, don't think that just 'cause you're gonna piss on it that it's yours. I ain't bound by those dog demon rules."

Rolling your eyes at the Púca's dramatics you went back to the front and past the counter, Marv waving his decoy into being as he followed you through the bead curtain. You felt horribly anxious as you locked yourself in the bathroom, which was gaudy with solid marble walls and a gold plated toilet and ivory mirror, and you pulled out the small stick inside the box. The box itself had a cartoon pirate drawn on it with the words 'Captain Jacklyn's testin' stick ahoy' which just made no sense to you. Meanwhile the small white stick had a capped end with a tiny screen in the middle. Pulling off the cap there was an odd absorbent tip and you felt a bit weird peeing on it but Marv wouldn't joke with you- not about this anyway. He knew some topics weren't worth the hassle of lying about.

As you waited for the colour change you felt your breath getting tight and stuttery; you had utterly no idea how to react if you were since it shouldn't be possible. Yes you'd had sex with Vergil but that didn't meant you'd be ready to have a child from it. A part of you rationalized it was highly likely if you were then you would end up miscarrying or still birthing but you still weren't convinced. Your frantic emotions could just be messing with your sense, that was it. It'd happened before, some demons got physically warped from strong emotions. It was likely that-

"You died in there or somethin'?" Marv drawled through the door, his deep voice making you twitch violently.

"Um. It changed colour but I don't know what it means."

"Check the box for instructions, genius."

You snatched up the small rectangular box and squinted at the brightly coloured words before saying aloud, "So it says...'Red as rum, naught a babe in tum, Blue as the sea, baby thar be'."

"So what colour you get?" Marv asked.

"...Purple."

"For fuck's sake. Okay, this ain't working. Plan B."

[all-for-geek]

The Cal Who Kinda Liked Musicals - Chapter 2: Just a Typical Day...

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Fandom: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals/Starkid/Hatchetfield

Summary: What starts as a fun musical adventure slowly turns into a theatrical nightmare. Maybe someone should've thought about the implications.

Word Count: 1,798

@micropeter I hope you enjoy :)

Saying Cal woke up the next morning would imply that they went to sleep. They got a couple hours at least. It was enough to remain functional but not enough to trigger any nightmares. They grabbed a Monster out of the fridge that would be their lifeline for the day before heading off to work. 

A funky bass line was the music for today’s walk. Cal tapped their fingers along to it, the drum beat mimicking their rhythm. It wasn’t until they looked around and noticed people along the street dancing that they realized the music wasn’t just in their head. Cal continued drumming, bouncing in and out of people’s way to not disrupt the flash mob.

Their beat faltered when Pete popped up in front of them. They shuffled back, leaning on the back of the person behind them as their knees bent on beat. He smiled at Cal widely, holding out his hand. They chuckled, but it didn’t take any convincing for them to take it. The music around them swelled as Pete led Cal in a series of complicated lifts and twirls and steps, Cal following close behind as the music hummed around them.

On the final beat, Pete spun Cal into his arms, dipping them. Cal blushed, smiling up at him a little out of breath. He smiled at them almost curiously, pulling them back onto their feet and dangerously close to him in one fluid motion. Cal’s blush only deepened.

“I-I didn’t know you could dance like that,” they stammered out.

“You’ll find that I’m just full of surprises, Cal,” he says, his voice modulating in perfect pitch, “I think you are too.”

Before they had the chance to ask him what he meant, Cal remembered why they were out here in the first place.

“Shit I gotta get to work!”

Pete’s hold on them loosened enough for them to slip away, the blue-haired teen racing down the street.

“I’ll see you around, Cal!” he called out, a sense of finality in his tone that Cal didn’t pick up on.

“Yeah! See ya later!”

Cal wasn’t the only one who got caught up in the flash mob. As they walked into the work, they could hear incoherent mumbling coming from near the break room. Curious, they poked their head inside. Paul was pacing the floor, knocking his fists together while Bill, Charlotte, and Ted looked at him concerned. Well, Bill and Charlotte looked concerned at least.

“What’s going on with him?” they asked as they entered the room.

Bill opened his mouth to answer, but Paul started rambling. “They were singing…and dancing…like it was some kind of…musical.”

“Oooooooooh. You got caught in the flash mob too, huh?”

Paul turned to Cal, nodding slowly with a deranged smile on his face. “Yes, of course, it was a flash mob. Right.”

“Cal please tell me you took a video of it,” Ted interrupted.

They shook their head.

“Oh god damnit, Cal you’re fucking useless!”

The teen rolled their eyes. “Just ask Pete about it. I’m sure someone there took a video.”

Ted eyed them, confused. “What?”

“He was part of the flash mob. Did pretty good too.”

“...that little nerd joined a flash mob and he didn’t tell me?!” Ted scoffed.

The two are interrupted by the clattering of the coffee pot. Charlotte stood above it, chuckling awkwardly. “Sorry, everyone.”

Ted hummed, half-heartedly scooping the coffee pot up while Bill went to find a janitor. Cal eyed the visibly frazzled woman.

“You alright, Charlotte?” 

Charlotte smiled at them. “I’m fine it’s just…oh it’s nothing. I’m just being silly.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing, doll,” Ted muttered nonchalantly, a thick layer of apathy masking his concern.

Charlotte tapped the mug in her hand nervously. “Well, Sam, my husband, he got home real late last night…”

Ted scoffed. “He didn’t come home at all.”

The other three in the room paused, staring at Ted. Paul seemed more concerned with what Charlotte was going to say, Charlotte herself looked mortified, but the face that made Ted pause the most was Cal’s. Their mouth hung open, the corners beginning to twitch upward.

“...I heard I wasn’t there.” He tacked on the sentence at the end, but the damage had already been done.

Charlotte continued on to say something about Sam singing in the shower which seemed to upset Paul even more, but neither Cal nor Ted were paying much attention. Both kept glancing at the other in devious excitement and justified fear respectively. Thankfully for Ted, Melissa walked in. It caused enough of a distraction that he slipped out before Cal could follow. Still, it was only a matter of time before… 

“FUCKING CHARLOTTE?!” Cal bursted through Ted’s office door.

The man practically jumped out of his seat, slamming his laptop shut. “KNOCK YOU LITTLE SHIT! And keep your voice fucking down.”

Cal flinched at the sudden noise, but quickly recovered. “Oh, I’m sorry, let me try again.” They cleared their throat before whisper shouting, “Fucking Charlotte?!”

Ted rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair. “What can I say? She fell for the old Spankoffski charm.”

Cal shivered. “Ew. Gross. Stop. Also, isn't she married?”

“Like that’s ever stopped me-”

“To a cop that looks like he wouldn’t think twice about killing a grandma?”

Ted paused, his cocky swagger faltering slightly. “Sam’s a scumbag. No doubt about it. But I’ve been a sleazeball for longer. I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh? Is that what that little comment in the break room was? Knowing what you were doing?”

“You know, would it kill you to shut your mouth? Just once. Ever.”

“Probably.”

Ted rolled his eyes. “Last I checked, Char and I are two consenting adults allowed to make our own poor life choices. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh if you’re gonna give me a hard time for what’s not going on between me and Pete you sure as shit know that I’m gonna give you a hard time about what is going on with you two.”

Ted blinked. “I hate you. So, so much.”

Cal gave him a shit-eating grin. “Thank you.”

“Not a compliment.”

“From you? Yes it is.”

“No it’s not!”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it-”

Before they could continue like that for hours…again, their witty banter was interrupted by some music blasting in the hall. It sounded oddly similar to the music from the flash mob.

“The hell…” Cal walked over to the door, peeking outside. “Uh…hey, Ted?”

“What?”

“If you want that video of the flash mob, now might be the time.”

Ted popped up from his chair, looking out at the musical extravaganza going on in the hallway. Most of the office was humming and bustling around in perfect time. The clicks of the computers and beeps of the printers kept the beat as they bounced around the hallways. A few people were eyeing the commotion, slightly concerned. Bill kept a polite smile on his face while his co-workers danced around. Charlotte was visibly shaking.

As Ted walked over to Charlotte, Cal’s eyes traveled to Melissa. Her cheery smile was wider than normal as she approached one of the confused co-workers, ushering them into Davidson’s office. Her smile seemed to widen as she closed the door on a downbeat. A few minutes later, the employee exited, humming along with everyone else. Cal rushed over to Charlotte’s desk, sidestepping the dancing co-workers as they kept dancing in front of them. Almost like they were trying to block them in.

“Look, we gotta get outta here. There is some fuck shit going on, and it’s giving me every bad feeling known to man and-”

Cal’s ramble was interrupted as Ted placed a hand on their shoulder. “Kid, chill. It’s probably just some weird prank or something.”

Cal shook their head. Something was wrong. They couldn’t put their finger on what, but something was. Their face paled as Melissa approached them.

“Cal, there you are. We’ve been looking all over for you!” Her voice resonated, speaking in a melodic pattern. “Mr. Davidson wanted to speak to you in his office.”

“Nope!” Ted muttered. Even if this was a dumb prank, it was going too far. Neither Cal nor Charlotte needed much more convincing as the three made a beeline for the door with Bill not far behind them, much to Ted’s chagrin.

People were singing everywhere they went. The butcher, the baker, the post office. There was a song around every corner. It unsettled something deep within Cal. This was more than a flash mob or some elaborate prank. Something was wrong.

The four dodged past the elaborate musical numbers, racing out of downtown. Luckily, no one seemed that interested in them, too engrossed in their choreography to pay much mind to a few stragglers. It wasn’t that big of a deal anyway. They would be joining them soon enough.

They ran until they reached a residential area just out of downtown. One clear of any people. They all stumbled to a stop, panting heavily. Bill gasps for air, bent down over his knees.

“What…the hell…is going on?” he forced out.

Cal shook their head, still pacing slightly. Despite their legs burning from exhaustion, they couldn’t seem to stand still.

“Why would everyone be singing? Why now shit like this doesn’t happen overnight what the fuck happened what was going on in his office…” As Cal continued to mutter, the streetlight above them started flickering. A firm hand squeezed their shoulders. They’re turned around, Ted looking them dead in the eyes.

“Calm your ass, kid.”

Cal paused, nodding. The light stopped flickering.

“What do we do?” Charlotte asked, “We can’t keep running forever.”

“Get the hell out of town?” Cal suggested.

“And go where? Fuckin’ Clivesdale?” Ted cringed.

“Besides, the bridge is back through downtown,” Bill adds.

“Well is there anywhere else we could go?” Charlotte asked desperately.

“We could hide out in the Witchwood!”

Ted groans at Cal. “Kid, what is with you and the fucking Witchwood?!”

“Don’t see you coming up with any ideas, asshole!”

Ted grumbled, looking around before his eyes lit up. “The trash cans.”

The other three looked at him. “...the what?!”

“Hide in the trash cans. No one will expect it. The singing fucks won’t even look in their if we’re quiet.” Ted nodded, confirming his totally foolproof plan.

Ted rushed over to the trash cans, Charlotte following close behind him. Bill watched for a moment before shrugging and making his way over, leaving Cal staring at Ted bewildered.

“That’s your master plan?! Hide in a trash can for who knows how long?!”

“It’s better than the creepy fucking haunted forest!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Cal mumbled, walking over and climbing into a trash can.

[get-back-homeward]

Guess what arrived this week!

I never buy reissues let alone preorder, but I had a hunch this set would be worth having, and I’m very happy with it. They look lovely together.

There's a nice little essay in each booklet that feels very appropriate for the times. You can read them here and here. If I had anything to complain about I'd say the CD sleeves are pretty risky. They're so tight, you gotta pinch them just right to get the CD out without scratching. I doubt I'm putting them back to their original spots. The spot behind the booklet is wide enough and will work fine as a substitute if you have single protective sleeves for each disc.

But all I really care about is the sound. And man, the sound knocks me out. Giles really outdid himself with these mixes. The only one I'd say I'm truly unhappy with is I Am The Walrus. The 2017 mix was fine to me, and messing with the ending seems silly, but it's easy enough to swap out. Out of 75 tracks, I expect a few to not be my favorite. It's more than worth it for the tracks that have clarified the sound and helped me to hear details I couldn't before.

The big changes are the additional songs, including George's songs and covers, and the 2023 mixes. With the backwards reissues, it's the Red Album that has the most new mixes here. They really surpass my expectations. This is the best I've ever heard their 1963 songs. Disc 1 adds I Saw Her Standing There, Twist and Shout, Roll Over Beethoven, This Boy, You Really Got a Hold On Me, and You Can't Do That. Disc 2 adds If I Needed Someone, Taxman, Got to Get You Into My Life, I'm Only Sleeping, Here There and Everywhere, and Tomorrow Never Knows. I have no qualms with any of them, they all feel like they belong here.

The biggest advantage of these newest mixes is the space between parts. It helps to hear Ringo's drums and percussion better in one part and George's guitar in another, hear Paul's bass here and harmonies there. I don't find any of the mixes too drastic save Walrus but together they really elevate the listening experience.

I found myself flagging John's songs as sounding best, and I think that may be a function of hearing more of the layers underneath along with the clarified vocals. Some of his harmonies with Paul just sound exceptionally good with this new tech. Norwegian Wood is a standout, as is Ticket to Ride. Norwegian Wood seems to push John's vocals further to the front instead of getting masked by the acoustic. The three-part harmonies sound divine on This Boy and Nowhere Man. I've seen criticism about the space changing the magic of the Rubber Soul tracks. If you don't like it, it's easy enough to swap out, but I didn't really have a problem with it.

On the Blue Album, of the five new mixes, Magical Mystery Tour and Hey Bulldog stand out best. It's actually kinda embarrassing how much I was missing from MMT before. I felt halfway through like I was listening to a brand new song. My one quibble is the strange placement of Hey Bulldog. It expected it to follow Lady Madonna on Disc 1 for roughly chronological order but instead it's between Blackbird and Get Back on Disc 2. I guess they were going by order of original release instead of recording date order used in the Anthology. But it was the one place the order threw me for a loop.

Placing Now and Then at the end of this hefty 75 track list is a controversial choice perhaps, but I think it bears the weight of the legacy well. Particularly because it's following The Long & Winding Road, which ends on Paul's plea: Don't leave me waiting here Lead me to your door

Now and Then starts with John's confession: I know it's true It's all because of you And if I make it through It's all because of you

It feels like a continuation of a conversation. An answer.

Paul's lyrical input is small but powerful, adding "will" and "always" to add certainty to John's cool now and then I miss you. Two lines were incomplete and required that Paul finish them. The completed line packs a punch: I want you to be there for me Always to return to me

This is officially the last Lennon-McCartney lyric, constructed across decades. But it doesn't feel like an ending, only a completed circle. Perhaps because this ending so seamlessly loops back to the beginning again: Love love me do You know I love you I'll always be true So plea-ee-ee-ease Love me do

And I guess if you want to go further: I'll do anything for you Anything you want me to If you'll be true to me

You can find bits across the track list that link as well: Now and then I feel so insecure Know that I just need you like I never done before

I’ll get to you somehow/until I do I’m telling you so you’ll understand

Life is very short and there’s no time for fussing and fighting my friend

Though I know I’ll never lose affection for people and things that went before I know I’ll often stop and think about them

To lead a better life I need my love to be here

Had you gone you knew in time we’d meet again for I had told you

Knowing that love is to share, each one believing that love never dies

Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns and calls me on and on across the universe

It leaves me with an abundance of multiverse AU feels in the vein of Everything Everywhere All At Once.

Maybe there is something out there, some new discovery, that will make us feel like even smaller pieces of shit. Something that explains why you still went looking for me, through all of this noise. And why, no matter what, I still want to be here with you. I will always want to be here with you.

I would just like to say, in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

We live in the world they chose music and fame, and the songs they leave us with is their legacy and our gift.

The press for these releases has been a mess. But the BBC Eras series on The Beatles ends on two quotes that been stuck in my head all week:

It’s the last song that my dad and Paul and George and Ringo will get to make together. You know, even though it took a long time, it feels very synchronous that the lyric speaks about time and that it’s taken so much time and that it sort of fuses the past and present. It's like a time capsule. And it all feels very meant to be or fated or something. In the nicest sense. —Sean Lennon

When I remember the Beatles, I remember the joy. The talent. The humor. The love. And I think if people remembered us for that, for those things, I’d be very happy. —Paul McCartney

Full circle, indeed.

[bejoomi]

plotcall + event tracker!

here i am with a second ooc post as promised, a little belatedly! this is a plotcall post. i'm going to just post a little summary of what my muses are up to these days, as usual, including feelings on the songwriting bootcamp for my trainees! pls like this post if you want to plot, tho just keep in mind that i might be kinda slow aslddfsdf i'll do my best tho! things should ease up once i'm on winter break. i'll also use this to track event requirements, as i usually do! i'll put everything under the cut.

JOOMI

HOLIDAY MARKET joomi is not a christmas guy. he is not a christmas Hater, but he is a spending christmas extra depresseder. as someone without a functional family whatsoever, family-oriented holidays are a little rough. that being said, he's been so busy and cares about christmas so little that he totally forgot christmas was coming up. all of the christmas decorations and festivities are probably the only thing that made him realize. all of that being said, he feels more loved this year than ever before thanks to all of his friends, and feeling Supported by studio delta also helps, so he is Cautiously Optimistic that this might be a good christmas for him for once. i think he'd be happy to spend part of his sundays hanging out and enjoying the holiday festivities. i just don't know if he'll orchestrate the outing, so somebody else may need to mention it to him first!

market thread 1: @beyejun (3/4) market thread 2: @bexsua (2/4) bonus thread: @jueunbe (3/4) ✓ bonus thread: @behyunki (3/4) ✓ bonus thread: @bexstevie (3/4) ✓ performance thread: open

SONGWRITING CAMP joomi is super super excited about the songwriting camp! songwriting is His Thing, he writes lyrics and composes and produces, the whole shebang, so he will be really willing to help anybody struggling with anything during the camp. this is actually boosting his confidence a lot in general, like, he's not the best Idol Trainee, but he's really confident in his songwriting skills, and it's encouraging to him to see that delta Really Values songwriting, enough to make a whole camp for it. he also knows lots of instruments (piano, guitar, bass, drums, in order of proficiency) so he can help with that too if needed. despite being a Vocalist he's actually interested in rapping these days, so u can expect him to be at a few of the rap workshops because he just wants to learn! he's not the best rapper, he just learned to be able to do rock covers of kpop songs with rap in them with his band, but he actually thinks it's really fun.

thread 1: @behyejin (3/4) ✓ thread 2: @eunaebe (4/4) ✓ thread 3: @kouxbe (4/4) ✓ bonus thread: @beyuji (4/4) ✓ creative direction thread: @bedohyun @renxbe (6/6) ✓

GENERAL UPDATES for general updates with joomi, he's actually pretty happy these days. he's enjoying training way more than he thought he would, isn't as bad at dancing anymore, and is surrounded by friends and people that want him to succeed for the first real time in his life. he felt alone for so long, but now he gets to write music and train with his friends every day and wake up next to the guy he's in love with most mornings, so life is actually kinda good. he's making me say knock on wood.

NAYOUNG

HOLIDAY MARKET nayoung actually loves christmas, but in a lowkey way, because god forbid nayoung ever outwardly express love for something. it's a bittersweet time of year for her, though, because her parents who are now divorced met on a ski slope, and she was a figure skater for nearly a decade when she was younger, so the winter season brings back those memories. they used to celebrate christmas a lot together as a family, but her relationship with her mom is now strained and her dad still lives in the us and she has mixed feelings about him now. we could maybe do something with this, i feel like the christmas season might make her a bit more Vulnerable too just because. nostalgia and melancholy. so maybe someone can get her to open up a little?? i think she'll mostly just be quieter than usual, but she would like to go to the market and experience the holiday festivities. she might even just go by herself, so she can like...Experience all of her feelings and deal with them alone, like she likes to do. so running into people while she's there might work best! but friends could probably convince her to come with them too. maybe.

market thread 1: @behaneul (1/4) market thread 2: @beseira (0/4) bonus thread: @bexalex (2/4) performance thread: open

SONGWRITING CAMP nayoung is not creative at all. she is very good at following what other people tell her to do "to perfection" (according to her) but when it's on her to come up with stuff she cannot ever think of anything unique, so the songwriting camp will be a struggle for her. she thinks putting so much effort into songwriting is kinda stupid when delta is probably the only company that will let their artists do anything super creative in their careers, but she will try to be a good sport about it and do her best, which will be very bad. she also hates being bad at things so she will get frustrated. people trying to help her would be appreciated (by me, probably not by her). genuinely she's so bad at this i almost don't even want to participate in the event because she doesn't deserve composition points. but that would be no fun.

thread 1: @bexrisa (2/4) thread 2: @behaein (4/4) ✓ thread 3: open creative direction thread: open

GENERAL UPDATES as for how life is going, not much is going on with her, which is part of why i need more plots and threads for her! she doesn't have that many friends, especially that aren't trainees, and she is not particularly social, so she spends pretty much all of her time training, and then working her convenience store job on sundays. she's not bored, she actually likes the routine, but it is a bit mindnumbing sometimes. maybe the songwriting camp will actually be refreshing?

AHYOUNG

HOLIDAY MARKET ahyoung isn't as big on christmas as she is on halloween. like, at all. she actually kinda thinks it's stupid and annoying but not enough to be a scrooge about it really. mostly. she does complain and talk shit a lot. she might hang out around the holiday market just because she's curious about everything. she DOES like shopping and she DOES like discounts so if she goes it'll be for those reasons and not for the sake of holiday cheer at all. i think she'll still like the light displays regardless, though. she'll kind of see it as an art thing more than a christmas thing, as long as there aren't like, massive santas around or something. she'll think that's corny and probably say so to anyone she's with. she's GREAT at lying though, so she will pretend to be a couple with literally anyone to get a discount, even if you're a stranger. nobody is really a stranger to ahyoung. she treats everyone like friends. she's also down to do an impromptu busking session or sing for open mic night even though she is Not a great singer, or if she can get a band together soon enough, maybe busk with them or something. who knows. market thread 1: @minjube (1/4) market thread 2: @bexmatt (0/4) performance thread: open

GENERAL UPDATES ahyoung isn't up to anything particularly special! she's going to school for sound engineering (i don't think i determined what uni.....i can't remember if i plotted w someone over this...) and then she's doing concert photography and general freelance photography on the side. she can also do some video and photo editing, though she's not a professional at either of those. she's also putting together a band! it's slow going because she is super picky and also lazy and doesn't want to do the organization aspects but maybe it'll come together soon...she's generally super talkative and friendly tho, she's great at striking up conversation so it shouldn't be too hard to plot stuff for her! once i actually put the work in alsdjlsdaglkdgs

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

TES Summer Fest Day 3: Starlit

You'll Be In My Heart

Summary:

I will tell you the story of the traitorous Dragon Priest who ever truly served one single dragon and no other—the woman he fell in love with; his own Dragoness, the sun-eyed bride of flame, the one who redeemed him from a death everlasting. But in every tale, little one, this one has also a twist: it was he who was first destined to rescue her from a demise, even if they both found out many years later.

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ Guided by the moonglow and a starlit sky, the First Dragonborn comes to realize that not even the confines of Oblivion can prevent his spirit from finding its evermore destiny.

Rating&Warnings: Teen And Up Audiences. Some (mild) descriptions of the near-death of a newborn child, and some fleeting references concerning changes in Miraak's physical appearance/emotional state in Apocrypha.

Wordcount: 2,006 words

@tes-summer-fest, thank you for this lovely event! 🥰

This one-shot is below the cut and you can find it posted in Ao3, too!

There are no stars in Apocrypha.

Miraak, the First Dragonborn of an Aedra and the First Servant of a Daedra in equal measures, knows this all too well. Much to his despair, he has conceded to it for eternities unending now—or is it perhaps hours, minutes, or mere heartbeats of a second ever since a reel of obsidian-black ink engulfed and swiped him forever from a place asunder in two and smeared in blooded snow? This, he could never really say; time is a thing most whimsical in Oblivion, anyhow. When he is courageous enough to raise his eyes from the intricate filigree full of scattered pages below, to this caricature of a sky aloft, all he damns himself with is a canopy green and swirling, like a poisoned typhoon, like a polluted abyss, and in the place of the moon and stars he once marveled, named, and dreamed under somewhere in Frostwood's ice-sprinkled tundra, now there are only the boneless limbs, and the demon-like, sleepless, ever-watching eyes of the Woodland Man, as his fellow Atmorans called him; the Gardener of Memories, of Knowledge, of Fate—the Gardener of Men, is his most precise name.

His body does not function in Apocrypha; his heart does not beat, and so the blood in his veins does not flow—instead, it lies stagnant with no other option but to adjust with the ink puddles beneath his feet, altering him into a Seeker clad in the tainted flesh of a death-pale man, little by little. His body does not hurt in Apocrypha; if he ever felt any sensation, it was nothing more than the phantom pain one feels upon a limb they have already lost. His body has no need for sleep in Apocrypha; his eternal damnation is to always remain awake, watch how everything changes around him, and how it remains the same.

But, why now, does Miraak feel something changing? 

For the first time, a pain keen and penetrating and endless rends through him. It reaches the very depths of his dragon soul that wails its reverberating suffering across Oblivion, it carves him like a razor with a scalding and rusty tip, and it knocks his breath out. As he falls to his knees that crack under the weight of his body, his heart thunders like the drums of a tribal war dance beneath his chest, down his ribs, in his ears, in his face, in every fiber of his being, everywhere, everywhere, setting his blood alight and moiling. 

On his knees as he is, his neck and head jerk up against his will as though in a forced slumber, in a trance, his hood and mask slipping and clattering to the stale floor, freeing his waist-long all-tangled hair, and before his bottomless eyes roll in the back of his head, he manages to catch a thing most curious: the evermore swirl of Apocrypha's sky has now ceased, the immense double-pupils of Herma-Mora nowhere to be seen, and everything is frozen and standstill and put out.

_____________________________________________

The extinguished light slowly returns to him, and Miraak is on his feet, feeling no pain this time—on the quite contrary, all he feels is an unexplained calmness, that sort of peace one makes with themselves when they have a clear purpose to fulfill, an inescapable destiny written in the skies before they are even born. Though, there is a more crucial difference now: that light growing its sheen above his head, is not of Apocrypha, its sick green shade is no more, neither on him nor anywhere about. 

That light is a delicate, silken caress, limning and bathing him in a milky luster; it reflects flawlessly on his marble skin, burns up the ebony pools of his eyes with a silver flare like a celestial fire, and mirrors his ashen-white hair like an iridescent halo, until it becomes one and whole with his very being, and he looks like—like a lokzii, the eternal entourage of the Divines in Aetherius.

That light, is the light of a starlit needlework, embellished with smaller and larger seams, each representing a distant luminary and various constellations connecting the galactic dots between them. The starglow mingles with the radiant rays of a moon so full that, for an instant, Miraak thinks it is not a mere moon but the heart of an Aedra, expanded and centered inside the night sky's velvet embrace.

And there are stars anew. 

Real ones, he then realizes in awe.

Is he—is he back to Nirn? So soon? He has just set in motion his pursuit of enchanting the Skaal Stones with his Bend Will, so his hypnotic influence on the people of Solstheim in toiling them all day and all night long, fueling his return with the sacred ancient power of the All-Maker could have been... not nearly enough to help him escape the confines of Oblivion yet!

"I am lost and adrift," he looks up at the moon and speaks to it as if it were a living person, a fleshed guide. "It has been millennia since I last marveled at the sky, you see, and I cannot recall how it is to follow the path of the stars. Care to show me the way?"

And as if heeding his plea, a moonbeam flashes above him and starts to forge the route—or maybe it is his feet that begin to move first, and he becomes an astral walker with a destination untold but predestined and familiar-to-soul all the same, damning on the boundaries of his hellish prison and spanning through Nirn. As the case may be, the stellar canopy overhead will burnish brighter, as though all the stars together suddenly went supernova, momentary converting the night into day, the moon into the sun, when Miraak finds himself by the heavy, wooden gates of a building—a mead-hall that has the shape of a lavish... longship, a shield-adorned one at that, exactly like the ones once swayed upon the sun-shimmered seawater of Jylkurfyk's harbor; like the ones heroes-of-old sailed across the Sea of Ghosts to meet their coveted plunder at the other side.

He cannot help but recognize the midnight firmament's apparent signal to him, and so Miraak passes through these gates, stepping inside the mead-hall. Like an intangible specter he wanders within, and even though his view continues to be softly wreathed by the white-blue moonglow that escorted him to this place, he is completely indiscernible by every person dwelling there. His hands may graze against theirs as he glides his way amongst them, though he is naught but a whispering zephyr to them, a wisp of shadow, and they are but scarcely limned figures, fleeting forms in his eyes. 

Everyone and everything, ephemeral thready presences all around. Except—

Except for a newborn girl, her mirage so clear to his vision as though he faces his reflection in a grand soul gem; a girl with few red tufts upon her delicate crown, set in an oak-timbered cradle chiseled into wolven motifs, next to a bed that smells of blood, wolfsbane, and primrose. A girl that does not get to be held and protected by her mother's loving arms, nursed from her breast, and put to sleep by her soothing lullaby; all because—because Arkay claims her first.

Death has stretched its bloody talons towards the child who just met the world outside the womb, though earlier than she was meant to—always so hasty, always so impatient, the little fool, Mother Mara have mercy on her—and thus she bears a tiny and too-frail body, a listless surrender on her limbs, an ill pallor on her cheeks. A lily, she is; an ivory bud on the edge of withering.

This infant will be dead before the night is done. 

Be not afeared, soothes Miraak as he bends over the crib—it is his very dragon soul that it is speaking at this moment, while his human voice does not make a sound, his lips, not even a stir—death's darkness shrinking aside, life-light prevailing. I will tell you the story of the traitorous Dragon Priest who ever truly served one single dragon and no other—the woman he fell in love with; his own Dragoness, the sun-eyed bride of flame, the one who redeemed him from a death everlasting. The knuckles of his hand brush the child's soft cold cheek in the most feathery caress. But in every tale, little one, this one has also a twist: it was he who was first destined to rescue her from a demise, even if they both found out many years later.

And then, silent like a prayer and thunderous like a battlecry, he says: Whatever Light I have left in me, let it pass to her; let her be saved and live.

If the stellar-burst he saw by the time he found the gates of the mead-hall was like a supernova of all stars exploding as one, the forceful blast he sees after these very words leave his dovahsil is equivalent of— 

Realms crashing together, galaxies spinning in interstellar dust, nebulae forming new stars over and over again—

Newborn constellations—a shimmering crescent with a fraction of its disk slowly illuminated by direct sunlight, until all Miraak beholds is the moon and the sun united, bound together, rising up up up the starlit sky, finding its place amidst the constellations of the Ritual and the Lord— 

Uncreated Light that blinds and redeems him all at once— 

And in the end?

In the end, two eyes previously sealed shut, now open wide.

Two eyes, of pure molten sun. 

_____________________________________________

A violent inhale plunges down Miraak's lungs, chest heaving and falling by vigorous turns, and he blinks his strained eyes. For some unfathomable reason that he cannot recall no matter how much cognitive effort he puts forth, he is not standing on his feet; instead, he is sprawled upon Apocrypha's moist pages, his body numb and drained, his muscles aching and shaking as though he'd just traversed miles and miles away. His hair is free, his face is uncovered, hood and mask gone, even if he always made sure to conceal his countenance—no, his shame—ever since he set foot in this nightmare.

He bares his teeth and glares at the familiar abyss floating above his head, to his left, his right, behind, in front of him, and everywhere all at once. "Why am I like this?" He croaks, trying to get himself up, but the effort goes in vain, his legs giving up and falling to his back again. "What have you done to me, you foul bastard?"

And while Miraak would have expected some ambiguous but no less sharp rejoinder, Herma-Mora merely narrows his prominent gigantic eyeball in a way that makes him appear infuriated, as if... as if he likewise does not know what to respond to Miraak's demand. As if he is just as baffled as his Servant. 

"I am the Demon of Knowledge, Guardian of the Unseen, Knower of the Unknown. No knowledge can evade me forever," he rumbles in the end, almost like he's struggling to assure himself, of his own influence on his very sphere; one would even say he sounds fretful. "Have no fear, dear Champion, and this one shall reveal itself, sooner or later." 

Twenty-six years later, a woman will read a Black Book and fall into Apocrypha. She will be stunned by the Dragon Priest's spells in what they both thought to be their first encounter, and down at his feet as she is, she will raise her face and look at him straight in the eye—and for the second time after five millennia, his heart will beat once more. Twenty-six years later, she will kiss his lips and confess her soulful love with a bard's ballad. 

Titles, triumphs, praise, power, and pain. All in the shape of hers.

A woman so different and yet so same as him.

Death-grazed, fire-blessed, a clawed-and-teethed spirit.

A Dragoness—

Sun-eyed.