lcvejjoong

[lcvejjoong]

one of the things i really love about ateez is that most of their music has nothing to do with romance. they make you throw your ass to either anarchist propaganda or lyrics about *checks wrist* getting diamonds from a dentist and playing tennis or something similar. but even if they do decide to make a romance-oriented track once in a while it's just blatantly gay

[lcvejjoong]

Just read all you works and wanted to let you know I really enjoyed them! Thank you so much for writing 💕💕

omg thank u sm this means so much to me 😭🤍

i’ll continue to do my best and write more for u guys 🫡

mwuah 😘

[lcvejjoong]

letters i didn’t send

pairing : boyfriend! seonghwa x fem! reader

synopsis : You discovered your boyfriend’s betrayal and your own terminal illness, but told no one. After your death, he finds the letters you left behind that shattered him with the tenderness he didn’t deserve.

genre : angst, drama, bittersweet romance

warnings : illness mentioned, strong angst

author’s note : make sure no one is looking and prepare your tissues 🤧

word count : 1.35k

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

You never told him.

Not about the girl he was seeing behind your back.

Not about the way the sickness had already begun to spread through your body.

You had every reason to scream, to leave, to tell him the truth. But you didn’t. You stayed. You stayed because some part of you still loved him—because the memory of how he once looked at you was stronger than the hurt of knowing who he looked at now.

And the cancer… you couldn’t bear to see his face twist with pity. You didn’t want him to stay because he had to. You wanted him to stay because he still wanted you.

So you loved him in silence.

You smiled when you wanted to cry.

You held his hand while your own trembled.

You kissed him like you had forever, even when you knew you didn’t.

And when you couldn’t hold it all inside anymore.

You wrote.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

draft 1: may 7th, 2025

You don’t know I found out.

Not from me.

The moment I saw the message on your phone—her name, the words that weren’t meant for me—something inside me cracked.

It wasn’t sharp. Just quiet.

Heavy. Like the kind of silence that doesn’t leave.

You also don’t know about the scans.

The appointment. The way the doctor didn’t need to say much—just the look in her eyes was enough.

I remember nodding, asking calm questions, smiling tightly as I folded the paper with the diagnosis into my bag.

I haven’t unfolded it since.

Some days I don’t know what hurts more: the betrayal you think I didn’t see, or the weight of this thing growing inside me that I know I’ll never outrun.

But I couldn’t tell you. Not either truth.

I couldn’t ruin what little time we have left—these almost-moments, the way you still kiss my forehead in the morning, the way you rest your hand on my knee when we drive.

So I smile. I hold both secrets inside me, quietly. One in my heart. One in my blood.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

draft 2: may 15th, 2025

Ever since I found out, I watched you differently.

I memorize things now. The sound of your voice when you’re half-asleep. The way you laugh at things I don’t find funny anymore. The shape of your hand resting on the table, close but not quite touching mine.

You don’t know I’m dying. You don’t know I’m already halfway gone.

I spend mornings sitting in the shower, waiting for the nausea to pass. I hide the pill bottles in the back of the bathroom drawer. I cancel follow-ups. I push the pain aside long enough to sit beside you, nod along to your stories, kiss you goodnight.

And when you leave the room to answer her call—I pretend I don’t hear.

Maybe I’m selfish.

Maybe I just wanted to keep you a little longer, even if it wasn’t really me you were loving anymore.

But there’s a comfort in pretending. There's peace in the lie.

Because the truth would only make you leave.

And I want you here—just a little longer.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

draft 3: may 21th, 2025

I don’t have much time left.

But some nights, when it’s quiet and I can finally let myself feel, I curl up under the blanket and press my face to your pillow.

You’re asleep in the other room, pretending not to be drifting away from me.

And I’m pretending not to be fading too.

I see it in the mirror.

My skin paler, my collarbones sharper, my strength thinning like fog. But I still laugh with you. I still hold your hand.

I still wake up early to make coffee just the way you like it.

Even when you’re texting her from the bathroom.

I thought about telling you yesterday. I had the words in my throat, but your eyes looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to ruin that. I didn’t want the look on your face to change—to turn from love to fear, or worse, guilt.

So I swallow it again.

The words. The pain.

All of it.

I carried you and the cancer together like secrets I’m too tired to confess.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

draft 4: may 30th, 2025

Today I sat on the couch next to you while you scrolled through your phone, and I counted the seconds before you looked up at me.

You didn’t.

But I still smiled. I still told you I was okay.

I asked if you wanted dinner. I touched your arm gently, even though the weight of the day had settled into my bones and I could barely keep my hands from trembling.

I know I won’t get better. I’ve known that for a while now. And I’ve stopped hoping for more time. I just hope what time I do have doesn’t feel empty to you.

Even if you’re already giving pieces of your heart to someone else, I still want to be the one you come home to. I still want to be the silence you rest inside.

There are moments when I almost say it.

About the tumor. About the truth.

But then you kiss my cheek, like you used to, and I let the lie live a little longer.

Because even if I’m slipping away from you, I’d rather disappear gently.

Loved, even if imperfectly, than be watched like someone already gone.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

the final letter: june 3rd, 2025

My Seonghwa,

If you’re reading this, it means I’ve gone ahead.

Somewhere quieter. Somewhere softer.

I don’t want you to feel sorry. Not for the things you didn’t say. Not for the things I never told you.

Yes, there was someone else.

I knew. I saw. I felt it.

But I never wanted you to carry the weight of it. I didn’t want our final days to turn bitter.

I wanted to leave with you still smiling beside me, not shrinking away.

And yes, I was sick. For longer than you realised.

I knew what was coming. I knew my body was losing the fight before it even began.

But I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to stay for me, not for a diagnosis.

I chose to love you through all of it. Through the heartbreak, the silence, the pain. Through the cheating, through fear.

I chose to love you until my last quiet breath.

I hope when you think of me, you remember more than my leaving.

I hope you remember mornings when I kissed you like we had forever.

I hope you remember how fiercely, how fully, how silently I loved you.

Be good to yourself. Be kind to the next heart you hold.

And if you ever wonder whether I knew, or if I ever stopped loving you—the answer is simple.

Yes. I knew.

And no. I never stopped.

Not even in the afterlife.

Always yours,

Y/n

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Seonghwa didn’t make it past the second draft before he started crying.

Not the quiet kind. The kind that hits without warning—full-body, chest-caving sobs. He had to sit down. The papers were shaking in his hands.

Your handwriting blurred from tears.

You had known. About her. The lies.

The nights he left you alone and came back smelling like someone else. You knew.

And still—you stayed.

And then the letters told him why you’d been tired all the time. The doctor visits. The way your hands shook.

Cancer.

He pressed the page to his chest like it could bring you back. But it couldn’t.

He thought he had more time.

He thought you didn’t know.

He thought wrong.

And now the silence was unbearable.

You had died loving him—while he was breaking you. You never asked for an apology. You just wrote the letters. Left him with grace he didn’t deserve.

He’d never forgive himself.

For the other girl.

For the things he didn’t see.

For loving you too late.

And now he sat there, hands over his face, whispering one useless word through every breathless sob.

“I’m sorry.”

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

© lcvejjoong, 2025

[lcvejjoong]

they put this man in an all black outfit 😩

[lcvejjoong]

signal lost, heart found

pairing : space comms worker! san x sapce comms worker! fem! reader

synopsis : You chose solitude among the stars — until a voice made you want to stay. Now, with the signal fading, you have to decide if love is worth the risk.

genre : sci-fi romance, strangers to soulmates 

warnings : none

author’s note : thank yew so much for the love on my yunho fluff <3

word count : 1.9k

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

You didn’t mean to disappear.

You just wanted to stop feeling everything all the time.

People say space is cold. But it wasn’t the cold that drew you in — it was the stillness. The way it stretched out, wide and undemanding. The way it asked for nothing but your silence.

You applied for the off-world communication post the day after your world collapsed.

You remember the way your hands shook filling out the form. The sting of your supervisor’s surprise when she approved your transfer.

“You’re overqualified for that orbit station,” she said.

You nodded. Didn’t care.

You wanted to be somewhere no one could find you.

So you left.

You were never a coward. Just… tired. Tired of being the one people leaned on. Tired of smiling when you were breaking. Tired of the noise, and the looks, and the weight of trying to hold yourself together in rooms that never let you grieve.

Out there, in a comms station above a dead moon, no one asked questions. You were alone.

Efficient. Invisible.

And it suited you.

You learned the rhythm of silence fast. Systems check. Satellite ping. Console calibrations. Meals eaten without speaking. Sleep without dreams.

The others on the base rotation left after their six-month tours.

You re-signed.

Twice.

Soon, they stopped asking why.

You told yourself you liked the solitude.

You told yourself no one missed you anyway.

You told yourself this was peace.

And maybe it was.

Until one day, the console crackled.

It starts with static. Then:

— anyone read me?

This is Station 9. Please. Someone.

Your blood runs.

Station 9 was written off two years ago. System collapse. Total decompression. No survivors.

You stare at the console. A fluke, maybe. Ghost signal. Delayed transmission bouncing through junkspace.

Then, again:

I repeat. Station 9. Still here. Still breathing.

If anyone can hear this… talk to me.

You hesitate. You shouldn’t respond. That’s protocol.

But you do.

Receiving. Please confirm identity and condition.

His reply comes ten minutes later, scrambled but unmistakably alive.

Not dead yet. Condition: bored, slightly underfed, and alarmingly hopeful.

My name’s San. Who are you?

You don’t answer that part. Not yet.

But something shifts.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

San’s voice is warm. Tired. Curious.

You start to look forward to his messages — the jokes, the way he narrates his day with dry amusement, the questions that get a little more personal each time.

“How many mugs do you own?”

“What do stars smell like to you?”

“Do you think the silence listens back?”

You scoff at first, call him dramatic. But you answer.

You tell him you only own one mug. That stars smell like burnt sugar and old paper. That the silence doesn’t listen — but maybe it’s waiting.

He tells you he used to love the stars. Before he got stuck in them.

He never asks where you’re from. Or why you’re alone. But he listens.

And you realize, slowly, terrifyingly:

You’re not alone anymore.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

“Why are you out here, really?” San asks one cycle, quieter than usual. “You sound like someone who used to belong somewhere.”

You don’t respond at first.

Then, hours later, you send a single line:

I used to be good at being known. It just got too heavy.

He doesn’t reply with pity. Or advice.

Just:

Yeah.

I get that.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Then the signal weakens.

At first, you blame solar interference. But soon, the messages stutter. Break apart.

Power’s failing. Systems too.

I’m trying to hold on.

Just… wish I had more time.

You stand frozen in your console room, holding a mug that’s gone cold.

Your heart is too loud in your ears.

If I go quiet—

I just wanted you to know—

This was the best part of my life out here.

The line cuts off.

You don’t sleep that night.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

The next morning, you override your contract.

Abandon your post.

Fuel your shuttle with trembling hands.

You tell no one.

You just go.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

His station is a ruin. Lights flicker like dying stars. The air is thin. You breathe through a filter mask as you cut through emergency doors and debris.

And then—

You hear him.

A cough. A wheezing breath.

“You… actually came,” he murmurs, blinking up at you from where he’s slumped against the wall.

His voice is weaker than you’ve ever heard it, but it’s him. It’s him.

He looks different than you imagined. But his eyes — they match everything he ever made you feel.

You drop to your knees beside him.

“You idiot,” you whisper, voice cracking. “You weren’t supposed to matter this much.”

San smiles. Soft. Tired.

“And yet here you are.”

You press your forehead to his.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

“Good,” he whispers. “I was waiting for you.”

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

The flight back is slow. You don’t mind.

San sleeps most of the time in the medical cot. You keep checking his vitals. Heating up food. Sitting in the co-pilot seat just to be near.

One cycle, he stirs and says your name — your real one — the one you gave him right before he passed out.

He looks up at you, blinking through the haze.

“You stayed,” he says softly.

“Of course I did.”

“I thought maybe I dreamed you.”

You smile. “You think your dreams are this sarcastic?”

He laughs. Weak, but real.

You sit beside him on the floor, shoulder against the cot.

“Why did you answer me that first time?” he asks.

You look at him for a long time.

“Because I was already drifting,” you say. “And then I heard you. And I realized I didn’t want to be alone anymore.”

He stares at you.

“I didn’t want to fall for a voice,” he murmurs. “But I did.”

You take his hand. Let it rest in yours.

“I didn’t want to be loved,” you whisper. “But I think I already am.”

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Earth is bright. Loud. Unbelievable.

You land. Report. Debrief.

Someone says:

“You broke protocol.

But you saved a life.”

You don’t apologize.

You rent a room with big windows and a garden outside. San fills it with music. You fill it with books and plants and heat.

You both fill it with silence that doesn’t hurt anymore.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

One morning, he stirs in the sheets, wraps an arm around your waist and mumbles:

“I dreamed about the stars.”

“Yeah?”

“They were lonely without you.”

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

You never meant to be known again. Never meant to be found.

But someone spoke into the dark and you answered.

And now, for the first time in a long time, you’re learning how to stay.

Not because the silence broke.

But because you did.

And he loved you through it anyway.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

© lcvejjoong, 2025

[lcvejjoong]

hello can i hv a mb with this pic please

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎▄▄▀▀▄▄ ‎ ‎ ‎ㅤ𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐆ㅤ𓏧 ‎ ‎ ‎ 𒅄

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𓏧ㅤ ‎ㅤ🌴ㅤ ‎ㅤㅤ𓉹ㅤ ‎ㅤ🏀ㅤ▂

[lcvejjoong]

PARK SEONGHWA WHAT ARE U DOING

[lcvejjoong]

you’re not supposed to be here 

pairing : hunter! yunho x witch! fem! reader

synopsis : A solitary witch wants nothing to do with the world—until an unexpected visitor begins showing up at her doorstep. 

genre : fluff, strangers to lovers

warnings : none

author’s note : just a short fluffy one shot bc im bored 

word count : 1.7k

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

A boy is lying in your yarrow patch.

You don’t see him at first. Your basket is slung over your elbow, half full of dewdrop petals, and you’re still bleary-eyed from sleep. The morning fog is thick. The forest hums quietly in its usual way. But then something shifts — a shape where no shape should be.

A body.

You blink. Stepped closer. His cloak is moss-green, soaked through with rain. There’s a long gash across his forearm, and one cheek is streaked with blood and dirt. But his chest rises and falls, just barely.

Alive.

You sigh. Loudly.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you mutter.

His eyes flutter open. Soft brown, a little dazed. And then, to your surprise — a faint, lopsided smile.

“Nice to meet you too,” he murmurs.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

You bring him inside.

Not out of kindness — of course not. You don’t do kindness. Not anymore.

But it would be bad manners to let someone bleed out next to your chamomile. The dryads would complain.

He doesn’t speak as you clean the wound, doesn’t even flinch when you dab it with sting root tincture. He just watches you with that same faint smile, like he’s not afraid of you at all.

“You’ve got a steady hand,” he says, voice hoarse but sincere.

You grunt.

“I’m Yunho, by the way.”

You don’t answer. You don’t ask his story. You don’t want to know.

When he finally leaves the next morning, you pretend not to watch him go.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Three days later, he returns.

“I left my scarf,” he says, grinning sheepishly. “Might’ve blown off in the wind.”

The scarf in question is neatly folded on your garden bench. You hand it over with a frown.

“Strange place for the wind to put it.”

“Forest magic, maybe,” he says with a wink.

You cross your arms. “That pie in your bag isn’t enchanted too, is it?”

He holds it out like an offering. “It might be cursed.”

You roll your eyes.

But you let him inside anyway.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

He comes again. And again.

Never unannounced — he always knocks, polite as anything — but never truly invited either. He brings broken things to fix. Burnt bread to improve. Questions about your plants, your spells, the strange, shimmering boundary that separates your clearing from the rest of the world.

He smiles too easily. Laughs too loud. He’s the kind of person who hums when he works and names the crows in your trees.

You, on the other hand, prefer silence. Order. Predictability. It’s how you’ve kept yourself safe.

And yet—

You start making two cups of tea instead of one.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

“Why do you live all the way out here?” Yunho asks one afternoon. You’re both in the garden, your hands stained green with soil, a breeze fluttering through his curls.

You don’t look at him.

“It’s quiet.”

“But lonely.”

You pause.

“I chose lonely.”

He studies you for a moment. Then, quietly: “Was it because someone hurt you?”

Your hand stills over the pot.

You say nothing.

Yunho doesn’t push. He just reaches over, gently brushes a bit of leaf from your sleeve.

“Not everyone wants to hurt you,” he says.

You don’t answer. But you let his hand linger.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

The next morning, there’s a charm on your windowsill.

Lavender wrapped with silver thread. A sun-shaped pebble tied at the center.

You know the spell: warmth, comfort, safety. A soft kind of protection.

You hold it in your palm for a long time.

That night, you place it beneath your pillow.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Then, suddenly—he stops coming.

No knock. No clumsy pie. No terrible questions about moon phases or nettle tea.

The first day, you don’t care.

The second, you brew two cups of tea out of habit.

By the fifth, you’re pacing near the garden gate. Muttering under your breath. Listening for footsteps that never come.

The charm under your pillow is silent now. Still warm, but distant. Like its maker is out of reach.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

He arrives on the seventh day, just as the storm breaks.

You hear the knock and throw the door open before he can knock again.

Yunho stands there, drenched, hair plastered to his face, holding a crushed bouquet of moonlilies in trembling hands.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “The storm came faster than I thought. The forest changed. I kept trying to find the path back—”

You step forward and pull him in.

No words. No scolding.

Just the heat of his skin, the pounding of his heart, and the ache in your chest finally softening.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

He’s curled up by the fire now, wrapped in your blanket, fingers around the chipped mug you gave him. His hair is still damp, cheeks pink from the cold. You sit across from him, your tea untouched.

The silence between you is soft but heavy. Like breath held just a second too long.

“I really thought I’d never find the path again,” he says, voice low.

“You did.”

“I kept thinking… if this was it — if I never saw you again — you’d never know.” He pauses. “That I missed you. That I liked… being near you.”

You stare at him, heart rattling in your chest.

“You talk too much,” you murmur, but it’s not harsh this time. It’s barely even a whisper.

Yunho smiles at you across the flickering firelight. “And you barely talk at all.”

Silence stretches again. He sets his mug down.

Then: “Do you want me to stay?”

The question hovers, trembles in the space between you. You swallow hard.

“I don’t know how to want things,” you say. “Not openly. Not out loud.”

“That’s okay,” Yunho replies gently. “You can show me slowly. I’ll wait.”

He rose, slowly, and walk toward you, like he knows not to move too quickly. Like he knows you’re afraid.

When he kneels beside you, he took your hand in his. His fingers are still cold. Yours are always warm.

“You’re the first person I’ve let in,” you whisper. “And I don’t want you to leave.”

You don’t say please. You don’t need to.

He leans forward until his forehead touches yours.

“I’m here,” he breathes. “You don’t have to ask.”

And you close your eyes, holding onto him like you’ve finally stopped resisting gravity — like you’ve come home to something you never thought you deserved.

There’s no grand magic in the room. No dramatic spark.

Just two people learning how to stay.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

© lcvejjoong, 2025

[lcvejjoong]

thanks for the tag <3

pretty boy -p1h

gnarly - katseye

chocolate - baekhyun

jumping machine (跳楼机) - LBI

duh! - p1h

lemon drop - ateez

masterpiece - ateez

bad desire - enhypen

now this house aint a home - ateez

1&only - xlov

taggies <3

@kysstar @guzhufuren

Share the first 10 songs in your ✨on repeat✨ playlist

Thank you to @loverboykirstein for the tag! I love tag games 😋

🌸 Otonoke - Creepy Nuts

🌸 Pink Venom - BLACKPINK

🌸 Hum Hallelujah - Fall Out Boy

🌸 Overdose - EXO

🌸 MIC Drop - BTS

🌸 Country Song - Seether

🌸 Sugar, We're Goin Down - Fall Out Boy

🌸 One Week - Barenaked Ladies

🌸 Human - The Killers

🌸 Girlfriend - Avril Lavigne

Not quite sure what this playlist says about me, but it is very accurate to my listening habits lol

No pressure tagging: @bookvvitch and anyone else who wants to participate!

[lcvejjoong]

yeosang smile appretiation post ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) happy yeosang day! #615HugsForYEOSANG

[lcvejjoong]

HAPPY YEO(DOBERMAN)SANG DAY

[lcvejjoong]

me for the next weeks

[lcvejjoong]

LEMON DROP

[lcvejjoong]

I SAWW OMG AND I FREAKED OUT UEDBSJNSBZ MY P1ECETINY HEART 😭 THANKS FOR TELLING ME BAE MUAH 😘

OMG OMG @lcvejjoong CHAE CHAE BABE YOU ARE GONNA LOVE THIS

[lcvejjoong]

just keeho spitting facts on his live

[lcvejjoong]

NEW HAIR COLORS 👹👹👹

[lcvejjoong]

ATTENTION ✨ATINY💅✨ it is ATEEZ🇰🇷👑 💦CUMBACK💦💦 SEASON 💪💯 so GET OUT your WALLET 👛💰💳 it's TIME 🕒 to make a 🕯️ SACRIFICE 🕯️ to DADDY🥵💦 HONGJOONG 🐿️👑 and his BABYGIRLS 💅✨ get ready to SHAKE 🍑 THAT ASS 🍑💃🕺 and POP 👊💢 THAT PUSSY🐱🥭 like NEVER 🙅🙅 BEFORE ‼️ in HONOR of the 🎵💥 BANGER 💥🎤💯💯 we're ABSOLUTELY GETTING 😤 cuz WHEN has ATEEZ ♾️👑 EVER let us DOWN ⬇️👇 thats right NEVER 💪💯💪💯 so GET ON IT ❗️if you're a NASTY 👅 HUNGRY 👌🏽🥵 little ATINY 💅✨ and you WANT OPPA'S 👅💦 or HYUNG'S 🏳️‍🌈💦 CUMBACK💦💦 you better MAKE SOME NOISE 👏 SEND THIS to 1️⃣0️⃣ NASTY 😈👅💦 CUMBACK👅💦 HUNGRY ATINY💅✨ get 3️⃣ back and 🎀YEOSANG🎀 will post📱 an UNSETTLING🧍👀 SELFIE 📸💯✨ get 6️⃣ back and you will WIN 🤩👑 a FANCALL 📞💦 with SEONGHWA💅👅✨✨ get 1️⃣0️⃣ back and YUNHO 🐶🌳 will MANIFEST in your ROOM👀 and SHOW YOU his 😩BIG😩💦💦 HANDS ✋✋😈 and REMEMBER ‼️‼️ 🐿️JOONGRAMI is WATCHING 👁️👄👁️ so MAKE GOOD😇✨ DECISIONS 💯‼️ 8️⃣ MAKES 1️⃣ TEAM 💯💯💪💦🎵