#coalescing filter

[kumarfilters]

What is a coalescing filter?

Filters play a critical role in ensuring the purity and quality of fluids and gases used in industrial applications. Contaminants like water, vapor, gases, and particles can degrade the quality of the product and harm the performance of system equipment. Coalescing filters are designed to prevent such contamination by efficiently removing liquid and vapor droplets from gases and fluids, safeguarding both the product and the equipment. Liquid-Liquid coalescers can also separate two immiscible liquids.

In this guide, we will explore the functions, applications, and benefits of coalescing filters, helping you understand how to choose the right filter for your specific needs.

What is a Coalescing Filter?

Coalescing filters are specialized filtration devices designed to separate liquid droplets or aerosols from fluids, particularly gases and liquids. These filters operate based on the principle of coalescence, where smaller droplets or particles merge together to form larger ones, making them easier to remove from a fluid stream. By agglomerating tiny droplets into larger ones, coalescing filters efficiently capture and remove contaminants such as water, oil, and other liquid impurities, ensuring a clean and high-quality product in various industrial applications. Read more here to get insightful information on filter systems.

[sungov]

Understanding Coalescing Filter Separators: How They Outperform Traditional Separators in Industrial Applications

In the industrial world, where operational efficiency and purity are non-negotiable, filtration plays a critical role. While traditional separators have long been used across industries to separate liquid and solid particles from gases and liquids, coalescing filter separators are emerging as the superior alternative—especially in demanding environments like oil & gas, petrochemicals, and energy.

What Are Coalescing Filter Separators?

Coalescing filter separators are specialized filtration systems designed to remove extremely fine liquid and aerosol contaminants from a gas stream. Unlike conventional separators that rely mainly on gravity or centrifugal force, these filters use advanced media to “coalesce” small liquid droplets into larger ones. These larger droplets are then separated and removed more efficiently.

Their design allows for higher levels of purity, making them ideal for sensitive applications such as natural gas processing, power generation, and chemical manufacturing.

How Do Gas Coalescing Filter Separators Work?

Gas coalescing filter separators operate in two distinct stages:

Coalescing Stage – The incoming gas stream passes through a fine media element. Tiny aerosol droplets collide with fibers within the media, merge, and grow into larger droplets.

Separation Stage – The enlarged droplets are too heavy to remain suspended and are removed via gravity or centrifugal force in a secondary chamber.

This two-stage filtration process ensures the gas is not only clean but also dry, significantly reducing the risk of corrosion, damage, or inefficiency in downstream equipment.

Key Differences Between Coalescing Filters and Traditional Separators

While both systems aim to purify fluid or gas streams, coalescing filter separators offer advantages that traditional systems cannot match:

Filtration Precision: They remove submicron-sized particles and aerosols that are usually missed by traditional systems.

Efficiency: Superior removal efficiency reduces the need for frequent maintenance and increases uptime.

Compact Design: Coalescing systems often require less space for installation due to their dual-functionality.

Versatility: Suitable for high-pressure and high-flow applications across various industries.

Why Choosing the Right Coalescing Filter Manufacturer Matters

The effectiveness of a coalescing filter depends significantly on the quality of design, material, and manufacturing. A reliable coalescing filter manufacturer will:

Provide filters that meet industry standards such as ASME, IBR, or ISO.

Offer custom-engineered solutions for unique operational conditions.

Ensure long service life and easy maintenance.

One such trusted name is Sungov, a global leader in engineered industrial filtration solutions. Sungov’s coalescing filter separators are designed with precision and tested rigorously to ensure superior performance under extreme conditions. Serving industries across over 35 countries, Sungov is recognized for delivering consistent quality and compliance.

Applications of Gas Coalescing Filter Separators

These systems are widely used in:

Natural Gas Pipelines – To eliminate water, oil, and other contaminants.

Power Plants – Ensuring clean combustion gases for turbines.

Chemical and Petrochemical Plants – Maintaining product purity and equipment integrity.

Compressed Air Systems – Preventing moisture damage to sensitive tools and instruments.

Wherever gas purity is critical, gas coalescing filter separators provide a reliable solution.

Final Thoughts

In industries where contamination can lead to costly downtime, damage, or safety risks, investing in advanced filtration technology is essential. Coalescing filter separators provide unmatched performance and efficiency, making them the preferred choice over traditional separators.

Choosing an experienced and certified coalescing filter manufacturer like Sungov ensures not just clean gas output—but also peace of mind. With precise engineering and industry-compliant systems, Sungov’s solutions stand out in delivering value, reliability, and efficiency.

[minimac-mspl]

Understanding the Hydraulic Oil Separation Method: Techniques, Applications, and Benefits

Introduction

Hydraulic oil separation is a process designed to remove impurities from hydraulic oil, restoring its original properties and ensuring it meets operational standards. By employing specialized separation techniques, contaminants like water, air, and solid particles are effectively eliminated, prolonging the oil’s service life and reducing the risk of component wear and failure. Regular hydraulic oil separation offers multiple advantages. First and foremost, it prevents the buildup of harmful substances that can cause corrosion, oxidation, and sludge formation. This not only enhances the oil’s lubricating properties but also contributes to maintaining the overall efficiency of the hydraulic system. Furthermore, hydraulic oil separation helps minimize maintenance costs, extend equipment lifespan, and reduce downtime, making it a crucial practice for industries relying on hydraulic systems.

Why is Hydraulic Oil Separation Important?

Oil testing serves as a diagnostic tool to evaluate the condition of the insulating oil used in transformers. By analyzing the oil’s composition and properties, experts can detect potential issues such as contamination, oxidation, or degradation. This enables early detection of problems, facilitating timely preventive maintenance or repairs.Hydraulic systems are the backbone of numerous industries, powering critical machinery and equipment used in construction, manufacturing, and transportation. These systems rely on hydraulic oil for power transmission, cooling, and lubrication. Over time, the oil can become contaminated with water, air, and particles, which can significantly impact its performance and the efficiency of the entire system. This is where hydraulic oil separation comes into play, providing a reliable solution to maintain oil quality and system performance.

Oil contamination can lead to various problems, such as reduced lubrication, increased friction, and accelerated component wear. Water, in particular, poses a significant threat as it can cause emulsification, leading to reduced oil viscosity and poor lubrication. Additionally, solid particles can cause abrasive wear on hydraulic components, leading to costly repairs and replacements.

Hydraulic oil separation is essential because it allows for the removal of these contaminants, ensuring that the oil remains in optimal condition. By using appropriate separation methods, industries can achieve cleaner oil, which translates to improved system efficiency, enhanced equipment reliability, and extended service life. This proactive approach not only prevents potential failures but also contributes to cost savings in terms of maintenance and replacement expenses.

Types of Hydraulic Oil Separation Techniques

Several techniques are employed to achieve effective hydraulic oil separation, each catering to different types of contaminants and operating conditions. The most common methods include:

Centrifugation: Centrifugation is a widely used technique that utilizes centrifugal force to separate contaminants based on their density. When hydraulic oil is spun at high speeds in a centrifuge, heavier contaminants such as water and solid particles are forced to the outer edges, while the purified oil collects in the center. This method is highly effective for removing water and solid particles from hydraulic oil.

2.Coalescence: Coalescence is a technique that involves passing the contaminated oil through a series of coalescing elements. These elements attract and merge small water droplets into larger ones, which are then separated from the oil due to their higher density. Coalescence is ideal for separating water from oil and is commonly used in systems where water contamination is a concern.

3.Filtration: Filtration involves passing the contaminated oil through a filter media that traps solid particles, dirt, and debris. This method is effective in removing solid contaminants and is often used in conjunction with other separation techniques for comprehensive oil purification.

Vacuum Dehydration: Vacuum dehydration is a process that uses vacuum pressure to remove dissolved water and gases from hydraulic oil. By lowering the pressure, the boiling point of water is reduced, allowing it to evaporate at lower temperatures. This technique is particularly useful for removing both free and dissolved water, as well as entrained gases from the oil.

Applications of Hydraulic Oil Separation

Hydraulic oil separation finds its application in a wide range of industries where hydraulic systems are used, such as:

Manufacturing: Hydraulic oil separation is essential in manufacturing industries to maintain the efficiency and reliability of hydraulic presses, injection molding machines, and other critical equipment.

Construction and Heavy Machinery: Construction equipment like excavators, loaders, and bulldozers rely on hydraulic systems for their operation. Regular oil separation helps prevent failures and downtime, ensuring that the machinery performs optimally even in demanding conditions.

Marine and Offshore: Hydraulic systems used in marine and offshore applications are exposed to harsh environments and the risk of water contamination. Hydraulic oil separation is vital to prevent emulsification and ensure the reliable operation of cranes, winches, and steering systems.

Aerospace: Aerospace applications require precise control and high performance of hydraulic systems. Oil separation ensures that the hydraulic oil remains free from contaminants, enabling safe and reliable operation.

Benefits of Regular Hydraulic Oil Separation

Implementing a regular hydraulic oil separation program offers numerous benefits for equipment owners and operators, making it an integral part of a comprehensive maintenance strategy:

Enhanced Equipment Performance: By removing contaminants, hydraulic oil separation restores the oil’s original properties, ensuring that it provides adequate lubrication, cooling, and power transmission. This results in smoother operation, reduced friction, and improved overall performance.

Extended Equipment Lifespan: Contaminants can accelerate wear and tear on hydraulic components, leading to premature failure. Regular oil separation helps minimize component wear, extending the lifespan of equipment and reducing the need for costly replacements.

Reduced Maintenance Costs: Preventing contamination-related issues reduces the frequency of maintenance and the need for repairs. This translates to lower maintenance costs and minimizes unplanned downtime.

Improved System Efficiency: Clean hydraulic oil allows the system to operate at peak efficiency, reducing energy consumption and improving productivity. This is especially important in industries where high efficiency and productivity are key performance indicators.

Minimized Environmental Impact: Proper hydraulic oil separation and purification reduce the need for frequent oil changes and disposal, contributing to a more sustainable and environmentally friendly operation.

Common Issues Detected Through Hydraulic Oil Separation

Hydraulic oil separation can help identify a range of issues that may affect the performance and longevity of hydraulic systems, such as:

Water Contamination: Water in hydraulic oil can cause emulsification, reduced viscosity, and poor lubrication, leading to accelerated component wear and potential failure.

Particle Contamination: Dirt, metal particles, and other debris can cause abrasive wear, leading to damage to hydraulic components and reduced system efficiency.

Oxidation and Sludge Formation: Oxidation of hydraulic oil can lead to the formation of sludge and varnish, which can clog filters and reduce the oil’s cooling and lubricating properties.

How to Interpret Hydraulic Oil Separation Results

Interpreting the results of hydraulic oil separation is crucial to understanding the condition of the oil and making informed maintenance decisions. Professionals with expertise in oil analysis and system maintenance evaluate the results to determine the type and extent of contamination present.

For example, high water content detected through centrifugation or coalescence tests may indicate leaks or condensation issues, requiring further investigation. Similarly, the presence of solid particles identified through filtration may suggest a need for improved filtration or system flushing.

Minimac Systems' Hydraulic Oil Filtration Solutions

To ensure optimal performance and reliability of hydraulic systems, Minimac Systems offers Hydraulic Oil Filtration Systems designed to remove contaminants like water, dirt, and particles that degrade hydraulic oil. Our systems are built to handle the most challenging industrial environments, utilizing advanced separation techniques such as filtration, vacuum dehydration, and coalescence to purify the oil and restore its original properties. With our filtration solutions, industries can maintain oil cleanliness levels that meet or exceed industry standards, reducing the risk of equipment failure and extending the service life of critical machinery. The benefits include enhanced equipment reliability, reduced maintenance costs, and lower energy consumption, making Minimac’s filtration systems a crucial part of a comprehensive hydraulic maintenance strategy. By investing in Minimac Oil Filtration System, industries can significantly reduce downtime, prolong the life of hydraulic components, and maintain smooth, efficient operations even in the most demanding conditions.

Conclusion

In conclusion, hydraulic oil separation is a vital process for maintaining the performance, reliability, and longevity of hydraulic systems. By employing techniques such as centrifugation, coalescence, filtration, and vacuum dehydration, contaminants like water, dirt, and air can be effectively removed, restoring the oil’s quality and ensuring optimal system operation. The benefits of regular hydraulic oil separation are manifold, ranging from enhanced equipment performance and extended lifespan to significant cost savings and reduced environmental impact. By incorporating oil separation as part of a proactive maintenance strategy, industries can unlock the full potential of their hydraulic systems, ensuring they remain efficient, reliable, and ready to tackle the challenges of modern industrial applications. For more information - Click Here

[idealdieselmarine]

HANYOUNG Engineering Co. Ltd

We offer 15PPM Bilge Separator parts, including filters and coalescer filters for sale.

We export all types of marine filters worldwide.

Exporter of machinery and parts globally.

IDEAL DIESEL MARINE  

E-MAIL: sales@idealdieselmarine.com (Primary) 

               idealdieselsn@hotmail.com ( cc ) 

[lcfiltrationla]

Lake Charles Filtration: Your Trusted Filtration Partner

https://lcfiltration.com/ - Welcome to Lake Charles Filtration, your reliable partner for filtration solutions in the Refining, Petrochemical, Midstream, and LNG markets. As industry leaders, we offer premium filtration products, specializing in air, liquid process, dust collection, automotive, and water filtration. Our expert team delivers exceptional customer service and comprehensive product knowledge, ensuring you receive the ideal solutions for your needs. We distribute products from renowned brands such as Pall, Jonell, Pentair Oil and Gas, Shelco, Shawndra, Nafco, Pentek, and Titan Flow. Our manufacturing capabilities include frame covers, air bags, strainers, yarn-wrapped filters, and specialty items, providing high-quality products at competitive costs with minimized downtime. Discover the difference with Lake Charles Filtration’s superior products and outstanding customer service.

Lake Charles Filtration 2113 Broad St, Lake Charles, LA 70601 Email: dhoussiere@lcfiltration.com Phone: +(337) 433-7896 https://lcfiltration.com/

[lcfiltration]

Efficient Coalescing Filters Houston TX

Discover top-tier coalescing filters in Houston, TX, from Lake Charles Filtration. Our natural gas coalescers ensure optimal filtration efficiency, offering reliable solutions for industrial applications. Trust us for superior filtration performance.

[inkeyjay]

🩸Blood & Honey 🩸

With your descent through the layers upon layers of arches and stairs, the forgotten ruins of the city that is Arca begin to hum to an otherworldly song. A choir made of thousands of voices, lily white wings vibrating against each other as they collect the fuits of their labor.

Blood of gods, Ichor filtered from the very veins of mortals, dripping like honey. Tempting to surrounding lips, shuddering with anticipation. To consume is to thrive, may the cost be sweet.

So... The campaing I'm dming for my friends,,, Mystery of Blood and Honey... No longer a mystery. Reveals that had been planned like three years ago coalesced into what have been two sessions full of reveals, old loved (and hated) npcs appearing and a lot of stress and strong emotions. Super glad to have experienced the thrill of leaving clues for the pcs and watching how they fared elaborating theories. I cannot stress enough how fun this was and god, i wish i could share it with y'all sometime in the future in some way. Dnd, am i right?

[tojisun]

space cowboys // cw: trauma getting triggered prev: a, b, c, d

simon goes under.

it happened instantaneously, during a quiet afternoon. she’s on her side of the couch, engrossed in the book that she’s reading, and simon had been discreetly watching because something about taking in the silence with her settles what is repugnant within him, but one thing led to another, and the careful sounds of her flipping the pages start to fade, like his ears are stuffed with cotton, and simon—

simon is drowning.

his memories are coalescing, miasmic as they raze his mind. they are pressing into his skull, thudding, pulsing. a beating staccato; a mimicry of his heart. simon’s known fear before — he is not new to the haunting — but it remains a void, jagged and armed to the teeth, no matter how many times it’s torn him apart.

big man, boogeyman, still reduced to this — putrid and rotting. a wolf caught in a bear trap; beastly yet ruined by man’s creation.

no. no.

he is an abandoned slaughterhouse. ravenous and empty; peeling at the seams. decaying. there is blood in the air; blood on his skin, dripping like molten wax, carving. painting. so blistering.

drowning. simon is drowning.

simon is—

“—to me.”

trying to wade through the tides, overcoming the current, but tendrils slither around his limbs, pulling him taut, dragging him down. a beast in the waters. another horror to fight for survival.

“si, dear—”

he cannot breathe. he cannot think. there is another war tearing him apart; coiling around his joints, scooping out his flesh, leaving him as he is. scarred. broken. a man. a boy. food for the dogs; for the yawning.

“—come back—”

all at once, sound surges into simon’s ears.

a blaring noise, tearing through the fog. a riptide, serrated with teeth, screeching. hissing. loud and angry and encroaching; unimaginable. uncontainable. unbearable—

simon is—

simon breathes.

he breathes.

one shaky drag at a time, pulling it from the edges of his lungs, grasping with a dizzying focus. he feels it spread through him, weaving within his bloodstream, like a trickle of a river. of hope. of life. of something so simple and kind and continuous.

of something grounding.

he breathes, blinking his eyes off the blur. the haze lifts, light filters in, once again, like curtains are peeled back to let the sun dance close, serpentine rays beaming with softness, like dawn is just about to break and spring is already whispering in his doorsteps.

like—

warmth.

pulsing underneath his palms, beating a faint song of a heartbeat that isn’t his. simon shakes his mind awake, feeling the haunting dissipate with every rasped breath he takes in, and tries to tear his eyes from the blanketing darkness to see. a memory licks at the back of his skull; it is a name. a face.

her.

simon surges back into his body, his shaking soul locking into the cages of his bones, and feels how he has pressed the both of them down to the cushions. he searches for her eyes, the words tripping over each other on his tongue, and he doesn’t know what first to say, then he finds her.

he sees the worry, her normally calm face awash by anguish so loud, he almost didn’t recognize her. his wife, in all but name and sanctity, gazes up at him with something so reverberating that simon feels his lips wobble, the backs of his eyes prickling with something he doesn’t have a word for.

he shapes her name in his mouth, trying to sound it out because what if she isn’t real? what if this is part of the haunting — a taunting of what could be?

but, she says his name first. she says it like it’s a prayer; like it’s something to revere.

“simon,” she says like his name is a gift. “are you—” she continues, but simon crumbles, and falls towards her.

she grunts, not expecting his bulk, but simon can’t sound out his sorry’s, feeling the way his throat is lodged with a lump that he can’t swallow down. all he can do is press his face to her neck, not minding the way his nose got snagged by the hood of her jumper, and breathes her in.

she doesn’t smell like all the other girls who he used to fall to the bed with, the ones with roses and apples and cinnamon dusting their soft points, or his mates who ground him with their scents of gunpowder and soot and tobacco. she smells like his shampoo, still, and her drugstore lotion of cocoa butter and vanilla, and ozone, the cloudy air of the city sticking to her still, but it’s to this that simon’s body uncoils.

it unfurls, the tension leaving him in heaps. and this, just like this, she smells like his home.

an anchor to his storm. a ship to his current. a light in the abyss.

alive and his.

[prettyundeadgirl]

Love Like Ghosts

│Track One of Strange Trails

Summary: Within the night, an inebriated Arthur returns. You take care of him, and when morning arrives, he realizes how in love he really is.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Wordcount: 1.0k

Tags: Fluff

AO3 Link

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated! :)

The silver moon, curved like a bear’s sharp claw, shone a hazy glow through the lattice of leaves in the caliginous night. Branches swayed peacefully in the breeze, and amid the grassy land, water coalesced atop the mire earth. Hidden in the wavering stalks, a small orchestra of katydids performed their stridulations.

Everyone had scattered to greet their awaiting slumber, and you remained awake, sitting on the stairs and leaning against the firm wooden pillar with nature’s veins strangling it. You were engrossed in a book Mary-Beth had lent to you—one she had owned the longest and must’ve been a personal favorite, you figured from the frayed edges of the spine and the worn pages. It had been your solace for the time being, distracting you from your ceaseless worrying about Arthur’s absence and staving off the encroaching drowsiness. The lantern beside you illuminated enough light for you to read the tiny printed letters.

Time flowed like a river, and you grew inevitably weary, eyelids beginning to close until you heard steady hooves clomping in the muddy grounds near the entrance. The sound resonated throughout the area as it came closer and closer. Arthur returned, almost falling as he tried to dismount his horse. He hitched the reins to the hitching post, all the while holding a bottle devoid of whiskey in his other hand. You closed the tattered book in haste and doused the lantern, rushing toward him.

“Oh, Arthur, I’ve been worried sick.” You admitted.

“Why?” He asked, practically tripping over his own steps.

“What do you mean ‘why?’ I care about you. More than you know.” Your voice was laced with much sincerity, and you stated your words in confidence, realizing he wouldn’t remember anything by morning. He looked into your soft gaze for a moment, his befuddled state along with the lack of light dulling your worried expression. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” He let himself acquiesce to your words, and you placed his arm across your shoulders to give him as much support as you could offer.

“You look pretty tonight.” He slurred, and although you smiled and blushed at the compliment, you still rolled your eyes, knowing he was drunk and those words possibly held no truth.

Entering the once charming and grandiose manor that is now timeworn, veiled in the overgrowth of untouched green and merely a tomb contained with memories of the ones who inhabited it before, you guided him through the dark. Strangely, it provided a sense of comfort and safety, though not as much as Arthur did during your time with the gang.

The old stairs creaked in protest as you went up, and there was the occasional trip or two from Arthur, with a small chuckle following after. Pushing open the door revealed his cozy room, which was bathed in the soft gleam of moonlight filtered through the begrimed windowpanes and casting shadows on the walls. You removed his hat, placing it on the table nearby, and then, with careful and tender hands, you unbuckled his gun belt. It clinked as it came in contact with the wooden table. You laid him down and removed his boots, and when his eyes closed, you slowly pressed a small kiss on his forehead.

As you turned to make your way downstairs, a weak grip on your hand prevented you from doing so.

“Stay.” He murmured. “Please.”

“Why?” You repeated it in the same tone he had given you before.

“‘Cause I…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence for his half-mast eyes had spoken beyond what he could not, and deep within the beating chambers of your heart you knew what it was and felt the same.

You let out a sigh, “Move over.”

He provided as much room as the tight-fitted bed allowed, and as you lay side by side, he pulled you closer into him, arm twined around your waist, the space once between now nonexistent. There was a strong musk that was woven into the linen of his clothes, amalgamated with the scent of heady whiskey, and it wrapped around you with familiarity. You rested against his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall and hearing the drum of his heart against your ear, its rhythm growing faster as you placed your knee on his hip. 

His love for you was a quiet thing; it’s unrelenting and inevitable, yet everyone knew and talked about it. He harbored so much of it for you that it seemed to overflow in his drunken state, though it could only be expressed through actions such as placing the gentlest of kisses on your head, taking in the freshly washed scent of your hair, and holding you as close as he could. In your arms, there was a sense of comfort and peace that he hadn’t felt in a long time and never knew he had been missing in his life, and he was lulled into a calming sleep.

In the early wake of dawn, he hadn’t remembered much from the night as it was, for the most part, a disoriented blur, but he did recall your benevolent disposition, and he didn’t understand why you were so kind to him and always made an effort to look after his well-being. He always appreciated it nonetheless.

He had also recalled the vibrant color of your eyes in your gaze—irises deep and atlantic. He felt as though he could fall through them, following their course and soon getting lost in the darkness that lay beneath. They were endless and almost confusing, and he’d spend an eternity figuring out the mystery of them. A simple glance into your eyes, whether inebriated or not, would make the relentless, gloomy ruminations that sat in his mind scatter away.

He felt your warm presence alongside him, turning his head to your beautiful slumbering visage—peaceful and in bliss—that began his matutinal admiration. It was mesmerizing; you were mesmerizing to him. Every inch of you was, and he longed to live in this moment forever.

He wondered what he had said or done last night for you to end up in his bed and how he wished he could remember that part of the night. He relished the moment for a bit longer, tucking the wisps of hair behind your ear before reluctantly leaving.

[ooo-goon-fiction]

Chloe’s New Beginnings

Chapter One: The Girl Who Had It All

Chloe Harper floated through the halls of Westwood High like she owned them. It wasn’t arrogance—it was just the way things were. Her laughter was a melody that turned heads, her presence a gravitational pull that even teachers couldn’t resist. She was the girl who made being perfect look easy. Straight-A student, captain of the debate team, and the kind of effortless beauty that didn’t need filters or makeup. But it wasn’t just her achievements that made her magnetic; it was the way she made everyone around her feel like they were part of something special.

“Chloe!” a voice called out, cutting through the chatter of the hallway. She turned, her honey-blonde hair catching the sunlight streaming through the windows, and grinned as Seth jogged up to her. His dark curls were perpetually messy, his varsity jacket slung over one shoulder, and his dimpled smile was as charming as ever.

“Late again, Seth?” she teased, leaning against the row of lockers. “One of these days, you’re going to miss the bell, and I’m not saving your seat in calculus.”

He smirked, leaning in close. “You’d never let me fail. Admit it, you’d miss me too much.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “Keep dreaming, Thompson.”

Their banter was a well-rehearsed dance, playful and easy. Seth was the kind of boyfriend who made her laugh until her sides hurt, who showed up at her door with coffee on early mornings, and who somehow managed to balance his role as star quarterback with being genuinely kind. They were the couple everyone admired, the one people pointed to and said, “That’s what I want.”

As they walked to class together, Chloe’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen. A text from her best friend, Oriole: *Don’t forget, we’re studying at your place tonight. No ditching me for Seth this time.*

Chloe chuckled, typing back a quick reply. *Wouldn’t dream of it. But if he shows up with pizza, all bets are off.*

The day passed in a blur of classes, laughter, and the usual rhythm of high school life. Chloe aced her history presentation, helped Oriole with her chemistry homework, and even managed to squeeze in a quick coffee run with Seth before debate practice. By the time she got home that evening, she was exhausted but content. Her life was a whirlwind, but it was *her* whirlwind, and she loved every second of it.

Her room was a sanctuary of soft lights, fairy lights strung across the walls, and a bookshelf overflowing with novels and trophies. She dropped her backpack by the door and flopped onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. For a moment, she let herself just breathe, the quiet hum of the house settling around her.

But then, something shifted.

The air grew heavy, the light dimming as if a cloud had passed over the sun. Chloe sat up, frowning. Her window was open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze, but something felt… off. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and a chill crept down her spine.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice sounding small in the sudden stillness.

There was no answer, but the room seemed to darken further, shadows stretching and twisting in ways that made her stomach churn. She reached for her phone, her fingers trembling slightly, but the screen was black, unresponsive.

And then she saw it.

In the corner of the room, where the shadows were deepest, something moved. It was formless at first, a shifting mass of darkness that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Chloe’s breath caught in her throat as it began to take shape, coalescing into something vaguely humanoid but wrong—too tall, too thin, with eyes that glowed like embers in the dark.

“Chloe Harper,” it hissed, its voice a grating whisper that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “You shine so brightly. But even the brightest stars can be snuffed out.”

She scrambled back, her heart pounding in her chest. “What are you? What do you want?”

The thing tilted its head, a grotesque parody of curiosity. “I want to play,” it said, its voice dripping with malice. “And you, my dear, are going to be my favorite toy.”

Before she could scream, the room seemed to fold in on itself, the walls bending and warping as if reality itself were unraveling. Chloe’s vision blurred, her stomach lurching as she felt herself being pulled into something she couldn’t comprehend.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

The room was normal again, the shadows retreating, the light returning. Chloe sat on her bed, trembling, her mind racing. Had she imagined it? Had it been some kind of panic attack?

But as she looked down at her hands, she noticed something that made her blood run cold. Scrawled across her palm, in jagged, black letters, were two words:

*Game on.*

Chapter Two: A New Normal

Chloe Harper woke up to the sound of her alarm blaring, a shrill beep that cut through the haze of sleep. She groaned, slapping at her phone until the noise stopped, and blinked up at the ceiling. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. For a moment, she just lay there, staring at the faint cracks in the plaster above her, her mind still foggy with sleep.

She didn’t feel different. Not really. Her body felt the same, her thoughts were her own, and the day ahead stretched out like any other. But as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, something felt… off. Not in a way she could put her finger on, just a faint, nagging sense that something wasn’t quite right.

Her room was a mess. Clothes were strewn across the floor, a tangled heap of fabric that seemed to have exploded from her wardrobe. A half-eaten pizza box sat open on the desk, the crusts hardened and greasy, and an empty can of energy drink tipped precariously close to the edge. The air smelled faintly of stale food and cheap perfume, a far cry from the clean, lavender-scented sanctuary she usually kept.

Chloe frowned, glancing around. Her bookshelf, once neatly organized with textbooks and novels, was now cluttered with glossy gossip magazines and a few dog-eared paperbacks with shirtless men on the covers. Her Latin Club certificate, which had hung proudly above her desk, was gone, replaced by a neon pink sign that read *Live Love Laugh* in looping cursive. She stared at it for a moment, her brow furrowing, but the thought slipped away before she could fully process it.

“Weird,” she muttered under her breath, though she couldn’t quite remember why.

Shaking her head, she padded over to the mirror, her feet crunching on a stray sequin that had fallen from… somewhere. Her reflection stared back at her, and she tilted her head, studying her face. Her hair was a bright, almost unnatural shade of blonde, the kind that came from a bottle rather than the sun. Her lips were fuller than she remembered, with a slight pout that looked like it had been sculpted by a professional. Her skin was a shade darker, too, a golden tan that didn’t quite match the pale winter light outside.

But none of it registered as strange. It was just… her.

She reached for her makeup bag, a bulky, glittery thing that sat on the cluttered vanity. Inside, it was a treasure trove of powders, creams, and brushes. She started with her foundation, blending it carefully into her skin, then moved on to contouring, shading her cheeks and jawline to create the illusion of sharper angles. Highlight came next, a shimmering powder that she swept across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. Her hands moved with practiced ease, as if she’d done this a thousand times before.

Next were her eyes. She applied a thick layer of mascara, then carefully glued on a pair of false lashes, their dramatic length fanning out like spider legs. A swipe of eyeliner, a dab of lip gloss, and she was almost done. She held up a hand, inspecting her nails—long, acrylic talons painted in a French manicure. They clicked softly against the vanity as she set down her lip gloss.

Her outfit came next. She rifled through the pile of clothes on the floor, pulling out a crop top and a skirt that barely reached mid-thigh. She paired them with fishnet tights and a pair of chunky platform boots, the kind that made her legs look miles long. As she dressed, she hummed softly to herself, the tune of some pop song she couldn’t quite place.

The room around her was a chaotic mess, but it didn’t bother her. The dying flowers on the windowsill, their petals brown and brittle, went unnoticed. The overflowing trash can in the corner, the crumpled receipts and empty makeup wipes spilling onto the floor, might as well have been invisible. To Chloe, it all felt normal. This was her space, her world, and she moved through it with the confidence of someone who had never known anything else.

Finally, she grabbed her bag—a sparkly tote with a designer logo plastered across the front—and slung it over her shoulder. She gave herself one last glance in the mirror, adjusting her hair and pouting slightly, before heading for the door.

As she stepped out into the hallway, the faint sound of her humming lingered in the air, a cheerful contrast to the disarray she left behind. The door clicked shut, and the room fell silent, the neon sign casting a faint pink glow over the chaos.

Chloe Harper didn’t look back.

Chapter Three: A Different Tune

Chloe Harper sashayed down the sidewalk, her platform boots clicking rhythmically against the pavement. The morning sun glinted off her peroxide-blonde hair, which bounced with every step, and her oversized sunglasses gave her an air of effortless cool. Her headphones were in, the bass of a bubblegum pop anthem thumping in her ears. Taylor Swift’s voice sang about love and heartbreak, and Chloe mouthed along, her glossy lips curving into a smile.

She didn’t notice the odd looks from passersby—the raised eyebrows, the faint whispers. To her, the world was a stage, and she was the star. The playlist blasting through her headphones was a far cry from the true crime podcasts and indie playlists she used to favor, but she didn’t think twice about it. This was her vibe now, and it felt right.

When she reached Westwood High, the halls were already buzzing with activity. She strutted through the doors, her bag swinging at her side, and immediately caught the attention of the shallow clique that lounged near the lockers. They were the kind of girls who lived for drama, their conversations a whirlwind of gossip, fashion, and boys. Chloe joined them without hesitation, tossing her hair and laughing at something one of them said.

“Oh my God, Chloe, your lashes are *amazing*,” gushed one of the girls, a redhead named Gina. “Where did you get them?”

“This little place downtown,” Chloe replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll take you sometime. You’d look so cute with a set.”

The girls squealed in delight, and Chloe basked in their admiration. It felt natural, like she’d always been one of them. She didn’t notice the way her old friends—Oriole and the debate team crowd—glanced at her from across the hall, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. She didn’t see the way Oriole opened her mouth as if to call out to her, then hesitated and turned away.

In class, Chloe was a world away. She slouched in her seat, her phone hidden under the desk as she scrolled through social media. The teacher’s voice droned on in the background, but none of it registered. Instead, she doodled in the margins of her notebook—hearts, stars, and the names of random boys she thought were cute. Her mind wandered to daydreams of parties, shopping sprees, and the attention she’d get if she posted a new selfie.

When the bell rang for lunch, she was the first out of her seat, linking arms with Gina and the others as they made their way to the cafeteria. They claimed their usual table, a prime spot near the windows, and Chloe immediately became the center of attention. She laughed loudly, flipping her hair and batting her lashes as the jocks from the football team stopped by to flirt.

“Chloe, you coming to the game Friday?” asked one of them, a tall guy with a cocky grin. “We could use you cheering us on.”

“Maybe,” she teased, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “If you’re lucky.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Chloe felt a rush of satisfaction. This was where she belonged—surrounded by admirers, the life of the party. She didn’t notice the way Seth lingered nearby, his brow furrowed as he watched her.

Finally, he approached, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Hey, Chloe,” he said, his voice cautious. “You okay? You’ve been… different today.”

She glanced up at him, her expression blank for a moment before she waved him off. “I’m fine, Seth. Just busy. You know how it is.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “You sure? You didn’t text me back last night, and you’re hanging with… them.” He gestured vaguely at the girls around her, who were now whispering and giggling behind their hands.

Chloe rolled her eyes, her tone dismissive. “God, Seth, relax. I’m allowed to have other friends. Don’t be so clingy.”

The words stung, and Seth took a step back, his jaw tightening. “Clingy? Seriously, Chloe? What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing’s *going on*,” she snapped, her voice sharp. “Maybe you’re just boring now. Did you ever think of that?”

The table went silent, the girls exchanging wide-eyed looks. Seth stared at her for a long moment, his expression a mix of hurt and disbelief, before he turned and walked away. Chloe watched him go, a flicker of something—guilt? regret?—flashing across her face. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a shrug and a careless laugh.

“Boys,” she said, rolling her eyes again. “So dramatic.”

The girls laughed, and the moment passed. Chloe went back to her lunch, her mind already drifting to the next distraction. She didn’t notice the way Seth glanced back at her from across the cafeteria, his eyes filled with worry. She didn’t see the way Oriole and her old friends huddled together, whispering about how different she seemed.

To Chloe, everything was fine. Better than fine, even. She was living her best life, and nothing—not Seth, not her old friends, not the faint unease that lingered at the edges of her thoughts—was going to ruin that.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, she stood up, smoothing her skirt and adjusting her bag. She didn’t look back as she walked away, her head held high, her heels clicking confidently against the floor.

Chapter Four: The Transformation

The entity watched from the shadows, its ember-like eyes glowing with satisfaction. Chloe Harper was unraveling beautifully, her once-bright mind dulling under its influence. It had started small—subtle shifts in her preferences, her habits, her personality. But now, it was time to push her further. Deeper. The entity’s power pulsed, a dark ripple through the fabric of reality, and Chloe’s world twisted again.

---

Chloe woke up the next morning feeling… lighter. Not in a good way, but in a way that made her thoughts feel like they were floating just out of reach. She stretched lazily, her acrylic nails catching the light, and glanced around her room. It was even messier than before, if that was possible. Clothes were piled high on her chair, makeup spilled across her vanity, and a half-empty bottle of glittery body spray sat precariously on the edge of her desk. A neon pink scrunchie dangled from her bedpost, and she grabbed it, tying her hair into a high ponytail without a second thought.

She didn’t notice the changes. Not really. Her room felt normal to her, just like the way she dressed, the way she talked, the way she thought. It was all… fine. Perfect, even. She was perfect.

As she got ready, she hummed along to the latest TikTok hit, her voice high-pitched and slightly off-key. Her makeup routine was more elaborate than ever—thick layers of foundation, heavy contouring, and a blinding highlight that made her cheekbones look like they’d been dipped in glitter. She applied a coat of lip gloss, smacking her lips together dramatically, and admired her reflection.

“Flawless,” she said to herself, flipping her hair. Her voice had a new lilt to it, higher and more nasal, with a faint valley girl accent that hadn’t been there before. “Like, literally flawless.”

She grabbed her phone, snapping a selfie with a duck-face pout. The caption came to her instantly: *“Ugh, Mondays. But like, still slaying. 💁‍♀️✨ #Blessed #GlowUp.”* She posted it without a second thought, then scrolled through the comments as they rolled in.

*“OMG QUEEN 👑”*

*“How are you even real? 😍”*

*“Goals AF.”*

Chloe grinned, her ego swelling with every like and comment. She didn’t notice the way her old friends had stopped engaging with her posts. She didn’t care. She had new friends now—better friends. Friends who understood her.

At school, the transformation was even more apparent. Chloe’s once-sharp mind was now a foggy haze, her thoughts flitting from one shallow topic to the next. In class, she doodled in her notebook, her handwriting bubbly and filled with hearts and stars. She didn’t bother taking notes; instead, she passed notes to Gina, giggling as they gossiped about who was dating who and who had the best eyebrows in their grade.

When the teacher called on her, Chloe blinked, her expression blank. “Uh, like, can you repeat the question?” she asked, her voice dripping with faux innocence. The class erupted in laughter, and she joined in, not realizing they were laughing *at* her, not with her.

At lunch, she was the center of attention again, holding court at the shallow clique’s table. Her laughter was louder now, her jokes dumber, her conversations more vapid. She flirted shamelessly with the jocks, batting her lashes and tossing her hair like a pro. When one of them made a dumb comment, she laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

“Oh my God, you’re, like, so funny,” she said, her voice dripping with exaggerated admiration. “Like, literally the funniest person ever.”

Seth watched from a distance, his heart sinking. This wasn’t the Chloe he knew. The Chloe he knew was smart, kind, and funny in a way that didn’t involve pretending to be dumb for attention. He approached her cautiously, hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl he loved.

“Hey, Chloe,” he said, forcing a smile. “You busy after school? I thought we could hang out.”

She looked up at him, her expression blank for a moment before she waved him off. “Uh, sorry, Seth. I’ve got, like, so much to do. Gina and I are going shopping, and then we’re, like, totally gonna binge-watch this new reality show. It’s, like, super important.”

Seth stared at her, his heart breaking a little more. “Chloe, come on. This isn’t you. You’re not… this.”

She rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with disdain. “Gawd, Seth, you’re, like, so dramatic. Maybe I’ve just, like, outgrown you. Did you ever think of that?”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and he took a step back, his jaw tightening. “Chloe, please. Whatever’s going on, just… talk to me.”

But she was already turning away, her attention back on the jocks and the shallow clique. “Whatever,” she said, her voice dismissive. “Like, don’t be so clingy, okay?”

Seth walked away, his heart heavy. He didn’t know what had happened to Chloe, but he knew one thing: this wasn’t her. Not really.

As the day went on, the changes became more pronounced. Chloe’s laughter grew shriller, her conversations more inane, her personality more exaggerated. She was a caricature of herself, a hollow shell of the girl she used to be. And yet, to her, everything felt normal. Perfect, even.

The entity watched from the shadows, its grin widening. Chloe Harper was exactly where it wanted her: shallow, fake, and utterly clueless. The transformation was almost complete.

And soon, it would be irreversible.

Chapter Five: The Fall of Marshall Thompson

The entity’s influence spread like a virus, its tendrils wrapping around Seth Thompson with a cruel precision. It had already reshaped Chloe into its perfect puppet, but now it turned its attention to her once-charming boyfriend. Seth was an obstacle, a reminder of who Chloe used to be, and the entity couldn’t have that. It needed him gone—erased, rewritten, reduced to nothing.

---

Seth woke up feeling… smaller. His room, once filled with sports trophies, posters of his favorite bands, and the faint smell of his cologne, was now dim and cramped. The walls were bare, the furniture outdated, and the air smelled faintly of mildew. He sat up, running a hand through his hair, and immediately noticed something was off. His once-thick curls were now thin and greasy, his skin dotted with angry red acne.

He didn’t question it. To him, this was normal. This was who he’d always been.

He shuffled to his closet, pulling on a pair of ill-fitting jeans and a baggy, faded hoodie that was at least two sizes too big. The clothes smelled faintly of detergent, but not the kind he used to buy. The kind that came in giant, cheap bottles from the discount store. He didn’t think twice about it. This was his life now.

At school, the transformation was even more jarring. Seth’s once-confident stride was gone, replaced by a hunched, awkward shuffle. His face, once handsome and full of life, was now pale and gaunt, his acne standing out like a map of insecurities. His glasses, which he didn’t remember needing before, sat crookedly on his nose, the frames thick and unflattering.

The halls of Westwood High felt different too. The once-bustling corridors now seemed darker, the fluorescent lights flickering faintly. The students around him moved with a strange, almost mechanical energy, their laughter louder, their voices sharper. Seth kept his head down, avoiding eye contact as he made his way to his locker.

He didn’t notice the way people looked at him—or rather, didn’t look at him. To them, he was invisible. A nonentity. Just another scrawny, awkward kid who didn’t matter.

The shallow clique noticed him, though. As Seth passed their usual spot near the lockers, Gina let out a loud, exaggerated gasp. “Oh my God, it’s *Seth*,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. “Like, I almost didn’t recognize you. You look… uh… different.”

The girls erupted in laughter, their voices high-pitched and cruel. Chloe was among them, her peroxide-blonde hair catching the light as she tossed it over her shoulder. She glanced at Seth, her expression blank for a moment before she joined in the laughter.

“Ewww, Seth,” she said, her voice laced with disdain. “Like, what even happened to you? Did you, like, forget how to dress yourself or something?”

Seth flinched, his cheeks burning with shame. He didn’t understand why they were being so mean, but he didn’t question it. This was normal. This was how things had always been.

“I… I don’t know,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I just… woke up like this.”

The girls laughed harder, their voices echoing down the hall. “Oh my God, he’s, like, so pathetic,” Gina said, rolling her eyes. “Like, can you even imagine dating him? Gross.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, her lip curled in disgust. “Uh, no thanks. Like, I have standards.”

Seth’s heart sank, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t even remember dating Chloe. To him, she was just another popular girl, someone who would never give him the time of day. He shuffled away, his head down, his shoulders hunched.

In class, the changes were even more apparent. Seth’s once-sharp mind was now foggy and slow, his thoughts muddled and disjointed. He struggled to keep up with the lesson, his notes a mess of scribbles and half-formed ideas. The teacher called on him once, but he stammered through his answer, his voice trembling and unsure.

The other students snickered, their laughter cutting through the silence. Seth sank lower in his seat, his face burning with shame. He didn’t understand why this was happening, but he didn’t question it. This was his life now. This was who he was.

At lunch, he sat alone at a table in the corner, picking at a sad-looking sandwich. The cafeteria was loud and chaotic, the shallow clique’s laughter ringing out above the noise. Seth didn’t look up, didn’t try to join in. He knew his place now. He was a nobody. A loser.

The entity watched from the shadows, its ember-like eyes glowing with satisfaction. Seth Thompson was exactly where it wanted him: broken, forgotten, and utterly insignificant. The transformation was complete.

And no one—not even Chloe—remembered who he used to be.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Seth stood up, his movements slow and awkward. He didn’t look back as he shuffled out of the cafeteria, his head down, his shoulders hunched.

But somewhere, deep down, in a part of him he couldn’t quite reach, something stirred. A faint, nagging sense that something was wrong. That *he* was wrong.

But it was easy to ignore. After all, he was just Marshall Thompson. A nobody. A loser.

What could possibly change that

---

Chapter Six: The Shallow Life

Chloe Harper was thriving, or so she convinced herself as she strutted down the high street with her clique, oversized sunglasses perched on her nose, designer bag swinging carelessly. The sun blazed, music pulsed from someone’s phone, and the world felt like her personal runway. She caught the stares—some admiring, some judging—but it was all fuel for her ego, part of the game she played so well.

The day kicked off at the salon, where Chloe and her girls had indulged in hours of primping. Her nails gleamed with neon pink acrylics that popped against her scrunchie, her freshly bleached roots shimmered under the lights, and her skin radiated with a bronze layer of fake tan. She felt untouchable, and she carried herself like royalty.

“Oh my God, Chloe, you’re, like, glowing,” Gina squealed as they stepped out of the salon, her voice dripping with exaggerated awe.

“Thanks, babe,” Chloe shot back, flipping her hair with a smirk. “You’re not bad yourself, I guess.”

The girls erupted into their signature high-pitched giggles, a sound that grated on anyone nearby. They swept toward the mall, their chatter a dizzying mix of gossip, fashion, and fleeting crushes. Chloe led the charge, her confidence blazing as she pushed through the glass doors. The mall was her playground, and she was ready to own it.

First stop: a ritzy boutique where Chloe zeroed in on the priciest rack. She plucked a sequined mini dress from the hangers, tilting her head as she sized it up. “This is, like, so me,” she declared, her tone brimming with certainty. “I’m trying it on.”

The girls trailed her to the fitting room, cooing as she twirled in the dress—too short, too loud, too everything, but Chloe adored it. The way it clung to her, the way the sequins shimmered—she was sold. She swiped her credit card without blinking, but as she handed the bag to Gina to carry, her eyes snagged on a rack of silk scarves by the counter. No one was looking. With a quick glance around, she slipped one into her bag, her pulse spiking with a delicious thrill. She didn’t need it—she just wanted it.

As they strolled out, Chloe’s gaze landed on a group of guys near the food court. Leather jackets, ripped jeans, a vibe that screamed trouble—and she was drawn like a moth to a flame. One of them, tall and smirking, had a cigarette dangling from his lips, the smoke curling lazily upward.

“Oh my God, those guys are, like, so hot,” Chloe murmured, her voice conspiratorial. “I’m going in.”

“Chloe, seriously?” one of the girls piped up, hesitant. “They look sketchy.”

But Chloe was already sashaying over, hips swaying, her confidence a magnet. The guys clocked her instantly, their eyes sliding over her like she was a prize. The smoker raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as she stopped in front of him.

“Hey,” she purred, voice syrupy and bold. “Got a cig for me?”

He chuckled, pulling a pack from his jacket. “For you, babe? Sure.” He lit it for her, his fingers brushing hers just long enough to send a shiver up her spine.

“Chloe,” she said, introducing herself as she took a deep drag. The smoke filled her lungs, sharp and warm, and she savored it—no coughing, just a slow exhale that made her feel alive, dangerous. “You?”

“Mike,” he replied, his tone low and easy. “What’s a girl like you doing slumming it with us?”

She laughed, a bright, flirty sound. “Oh my God, you’re funny. Maybe I just like the vibe. What are you guys up to later?”

Mike shrugged, his eyes glinting. “Not much. You wanna tag along?”

“Maybe,” she teased, flicking ash with a practiced flick. “If you play your cards right.”

Her girls watched from afar, a mix of envy and nerves flickering across their faces. Chloe was electric, the spotlight hers, and she basked in it. She didn’t clock the edge in Jake’s grin, didn’t care. This was her element.

The day spiraled into a blur of stores and chaos. At a makeup counter, Chloe “tested” a lipstick, slipping it into her pocket when the clerk turned away. Later, outside a burger joint, she bummed another cigarette off a different guy, leaning against the wall as she smoked, the nicotine buzzing through her veins. She loved it—the taste, the rush, the way it made her feel like she was teetering on some wild edge.

By sunset, they spilled out of the mall, Chloe’s bag stuffed with purchases—and a few extras she hadn’t paid for. The city glowed gold, and she felt invincible, high on the day’s reckless thrill. She didn’t notice Mike and his crew lingering in the shadows, watching her go.

In Gina’s car, Chloe sprawled in the backseat, scrolling through their photos. “Oh my God, we look, like, unreal,” she said, beaming at a shot of her mid-laugh, cigarette in hand. “This one’s going up.”

The girls crowded in, gushing as she slapped on a filter and typed a caption: *“Living my best life with my girls 💅🔥 #SquadGoals #NoRules”*. She posted it, and the likes poured in, each one a little hit of validation. She leaned back, exhaling a plume of imaginary smoke, already craving the next rush.

---

[perfectwitchcrown]

Make the Exorcist Fall in Love – Witches Part One

Ok, I finally finished this meta! I've broken it into two posts because it was getting a little too long. I’m covering some of the literary and historical references that Ekuoto plays with in regards to its witches hehe.. Regardless of whether Arima Aruma and Fukuyama Masuku are engaging with the actual history of witchcraft beliefs or the way it’s been filtered down into the contemporary cultural consciousness, I think it’ll be fun to present the real-life inspirations behind these ideas. Scholarly sources are cited so you can feel free to check out the information I discuss, and links are provided occasionally when I got lazy. All citations are in MLA form at the end of the second part because I didn’t feel Chicago footnote format would function well on Tumblr, so I apologize for any issues with the citations as I’m rusty with MLA. Take this all with a grain of salt, as I’m not an expert and also had to cover a lot of regions/periods of time. Hope you enjoy!

Content warnings for discussion of sexual violence, execution, images of cartoon nudity and violence (all Ekuoto panels), also major spoilers for Ekuoto and minor spoilers for Berserk, the movie Perfect Blue, and the movie The Craft

Link to Part Two of the meta (including works cited)

Witches – what did it mean to be a witch? Demonic Pacts, witch marks, and more

First off—what is a witch? This question is actually deceptively difficult to answer. For example, you can’t simply say that a witch is someone who practices magic: that’s too broad. “In September 1398 the theology faculty at the University of Paris approved a set of twenty-eight articles condemning the practice of ritual magic”—the targets of this were largely clerics (Levack 49), and there seems to have been a decent number of them (Apps and Gow 126). Those accused of witchcraft were considered distinct from these magic using priests for whom “this magic was practiced with grimoires or books of learned enchantments” (not that this was approved of by the church either) (Mackay 30-31).

What a “witch” was, is also something that could be wildly different depending on time and place. There was, however, a coalescence of ideas during the 15th century in Europe, followed by the “witch craze” of the Early Modern period (16th-18th centuries), in which there were an uptick in witch trials, provides an answer to what a witch is that has had a lasting impact in our present cultural consciousness (Witch Trials in Early Modern Europe and New England). This definition of witchcraft, then, I think, is the most relevant one to consider in this meta, although it will require a bit of generalization.

Essential to understanding this coalescence of ideas about witches is a book known as the Malleus Maleficarum, or “The Hammer of Witches,” a text on witchcraft published in 1486 by two Dominican friars, an order that focused on heresy (Mackay 1-2). Please note that mention of heresy, as it will be relevant later. How, then, did it imagine witches?

Christopher S. Mackay, in the introduction to his translation of the Malleus Maleficarum, calls this construction of witchcraft “the elaborated concept of witchcraft,” and defines it as follows (this is a direct quotation I just can't format it right on Tumblr LMFAO):

A pact entered into with the Devil (and concomitant apostasy from Christianity)

Sexual relations with the Devil

Aerial flight for the purpose of attending:

An assembly presided by Satan himself (at which initiates entered into the pact, and incest and promiscuous sex were engaged in by the attendees),

The practice of maleficent magic

The slaughter of babies. (Mackay 19)

The Malleus’s construction of witchcraft “represented a special form of heresy that played an important part in Satan’s plans for the Final Days” (Mackay 33) and borrowed elements from accusations made against earlier heretical groups (Saunders 85-86). It focused on women from the lower classes as opposed to priests who were practicing magic (Mackay 30-31). Heresy is key then to understanding witchcraft in this period. The Malleus’s construction of witchcraft also had a sexual focus, repeatedly bringing up the impact of demons on the genitals (Garrett 38). For example, there’s a whole section that details whether or not witches can take your penis away. The Malleus’s findings? No, but they can cast an illusion that makes it appear as though your penis is gone (Mackay 323-329). Breathtaking.

In Ekuoto, we see that the what makes someone a witch is a demonic convent, which involves erasing their names from the book of life and writing it in the demon lord’s book of death (which I will go further into depth on in the section on Sabbaths!), receiving a seal on their body, and merging bodily fluids through kissing or sex.

This process actually is pretty faithful to early modern beliefs about how one became a witch. The Malleus describes the process as involving a “sacrilegious avowal,” in which witches either make this vow to serve the demon ceremonially “when the sorceresses come to a certain assembly on a fixed day and see the demon in the assumed guise of a human as he urges them to keep their faith to him, which would be accompanied by prosperity in temporal matters and longevity of life.” While there, a new witch-to-be would be presented, and if determined to be “ready to renounce the Most Christian Faith and Worship,” signs themselves over (as in with a literal signature) (Mackay 281, 283). Non-ceremonially, a demon might just pop up when someone is in trouble and promise to help them if they help him (Mackay 286-287). So, here we see the idea of witchcraft granting long life and a physical signing over of the self to a demon.

But, witchcraft beliefs weren’t only constructed by books like the Malleus Maleficarum—those accused of witchcraft also contributed to these beliefs in their confessions (Roper Witch Craze 117).  As historian Lyndal Roper in her book Witch Craze describes of Early Modern witch confessions from Germany, “Intercourse with the Devil was the physical counterpart of the pact with him—and it was sex with the Devil which many accused witches talked about at length, rather than the pact which, according to demonological theory, actually made them Satan’s own” (Roper Witch Craze 85). Roper speculates that a large reason for this that many accused during this time period were illiterate, and so in their confessions, sex as the form of pact appears far in confessions than physical signatures (Roper Witch Craze 85). Regardless, we can see this as where Ekuoto borrows the idea of sex or kissing as a part of the demonic convent.

Sometimes, in these confessions, we also saw that the Devil would “give the witch a special diabolical name” as a sort of reversion of the baptismal process where a Christian name would be gained (Roper Witch Craze 116). Vergilius taking a new name as a part of his demonic pact then is completely in line with historical views of witchcraft, which I think is very fun of Arima Aruma.

Another idea of that shows up regarding people becoming witches is the idea of witch’s marks and devil’s marks, which were pretty significant in English witch trials. A Devil’s mark was a mark that was believed to have been left by the Devil when the witch becomes his, while the witch’s mark was believed to be a teat that the witch would use to nurse familiars their blood, although the terms were often conflated (Garrett 49-50). In England, searching for these marks was a major part of trials, and the experience was violating, the marks often being found near women’s genitals after they had been stripped of all their clothes, and pricked repeatedly on any mark that might be a witch’s or devil’s mark (Garrett 37).

Devil’s marks have been mentioned in Ekuoto, as seen in the earlier image, although we have not had any specifically pointed out. Vergilius’s heart under his right eye is likely a devil’s mark in my opinion, as he did not have it as a child when he was not a witch. I’ll be interested in seeing if it comes up and if there’s any significance to its shape. I could totally be wrong and it could just be like make up or a tattoo or something. This under the eye heart mark isn’t original to Ekuoto—heart patches for facial application have existed at least since the 17th century (not citing out of laziness but look up beauty patches), and under the eye heart make up was like a trend back in 2019 on Tiktok—but hilariously, 2012, when Marina and the Diamonds released Electra Heart, featuring MARINA with a heart mark under her eye, is also is presumably the year Vergilius became a witch (based on Daniel’s statement in one of the chapters that he’s been active for a decade). Maybe he’s just a really big Electra Heart fan lol.

The Witch’s Sabbath

A witches Sabbath was “where witches gathered to worship the Devil, dance, feast, indulge in sexual orgies, and practice cannibalism and infanticide” (Apps and Gow 120). As previously mentioned, the book Malleus Maleficarum set the stage for a lot of early modern witch beliefs within Western Europe. This text was written within a school known as demonology, “Commonly viewed as a branch of theology, philosophy and metaphysics” (Roper “Witchcraft and the Western Imagination” 119). Demonological descriptions of the witches Sabbath are an example of elite construction of witchcraft beliefs, and they focused on Christianity inverted: “The witches were bent double, candles in their anus, and in the place of the kiss of peace in the Mass, they had to kiss the Devil’s anus (Roper Witch Craze 113).

Of course, as also has been mentioned before, Early Modern witchcraft beliefs were also shaped by those accused of witchcraft drawing from their own experience in confessions. The dance, an element of the witch’s Sabbath, appeared in Witch’s confessions as an inversion of their village dances (Roper Witch Craze 107-108, 111, 116). At these dances it was said that music might be played on the fiddle and the bagpipes (Roper “Witchcraft and the Western Imagination” 128).

Make the Exorcist Fall in Love both presents the witches Sabbaths using ideas of inversion of Christian doctrine and of social gatherings with dance and music. For one, the witches set up shop in an abandoned church in France, where they place a statue representing Beelzebub in the sanctuary. Symbolically, then, they’ve inverted the worship of God to the worship of a demon.

Additionally, you can see the Witches lined up to kiss the statue on what seems to be a phallic protrusion. They’re inverting, then, the kiss of peace the same way historically witches were thought to kiss the Devil’s anus. Roper has a description of a woodcut that bears similarity to this image, describing it like so: “At the centre of the image, witches perform the anal kiss on a giant goat, while long lines of assorted pairs of Devils and witches wind their way in a snake like spiral around the picture, playing phallic-looking bagpipes and horns” (Roper “Witchcraft and the Western Imagination” 137-138). Now, traditionally this kiss is delivered on the anus rather than the phallus, but I’m not an expert so I can’t speak to whether there were regional descriptions of Witch’s Sabbaths that varied that Make the Exorcist Fall in Love is drawing from. I can say, though, that Berserk’s portrayal of a witch’s Sabbath, which imagery-wise definitely seems to draw from woodblock representations, does feature the diabolic kiss being received on the phallus rather than the anus. It is possible that this scene was visual inspiration for Ekuoto’s witch’s Sabbath. For those who are interested in independently checking what I’m talking about, it’s in chapter 139 of Berserk.

Now, in the same above panel in Ekuoto, we also see that the witches are singing a song. This song is an inversion of the Anglican hymn “Holy Holy Holy”—the original lyrics, that the witch’s invert, are “Holy, Holy, Holy! Though the darkness hide Thee, Though the eye of sinful man, thy glory may not see: Only Thou art holy, there is none beside Thee, Perfect in power in love, and purity.” The hymn is originally about the trinitarian god, so this inverted version becomes a worship of Beelzebub.

If you want to give the original song a listen, here’s a link to a recording:

This song later also appears in the flashback to the 2011 Beelzebub fight (where, interestingly enough, an eclipse is featured very prominently. Eclipses are pretty common “ooh spooky eek” imagery but it also made me wonder if there’s potential visual influence from Berserk). This also further establishes it as a song associated with Beelzebub.

Inversion also shows up outside of the Sabbaths in Ekuoto. Dante in the below images is invoking the Trinitarian formula: “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” which is from Matthew 28:19 in the Bible. Verge, and other witches in Ekuoto, invert the Trinitarian formula: “in the name of the mother, the daughter, and the evil spirit.” Not only is this an example of inversion, but it also aligns with a neopagan concept, the Triple Goddess (although usually the triple Goddess is expressed as the Mother, the Daughter, and the Crone). I’m not going to cite this because I’m lazy, but if you want you can check this one out on Wikipedia. The Triple Goddess in neopagan beliefs harkens back to older religious forms where goddesses appeared in groups of three—one of these, from Hellenistic religious beliefs, is associated with witchcraft: Hecate was associated with magic, and often depicted in a triple form (Also too lazy to cite this but you can check this out also on Wikipedia in both the Triple Goddess (Neopaganism) page and the Hecate page. You can also check it out on Encyclopedia Brittanica). Interestingly, and as I’ll touch on later, Baba Yaga also sometimes appears in three forms in folklore (Forrester xxxiv).

Walpurgisnacht

Now, the description of the woodblock of a witch’s Sabbath mentioned in the previous section wasn’t of just any Sabbath—it was a Sabbath on the Brocken, where according to legend witches would have a Sabbath every year on Walpurgisnacht (Roper “Witchcraft and the Western Imagination” 137-138).

Walpurgisnacht is on April 30 into May 1st, and is an actual real life religious holiday, celebrating the canonization of Saint Walpurga. It’s celebrated through festivals, some of which involve dancing around bonfires. In the 17th century, a book written by Johannes Praetorius cited the peak of the Harz mountains in Germany, the Brocken, as a site in which witches would meet for a Sabbath on the eve of May 1st (Weishaupt). It was this book, the Blockesberges Verrichtung, that features the woodblock mentioned in the Sabbath section, and would inspire some of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s drama of the mind, Faust (Roper “Witchcraft and the Western Imagination” 135-138). Faust also has a famous presentation of Walpurgisnacht on the Brocken (Weishaupt).

So yeah, Ekuoto’s mention of Walpurgisnacht is in reference to this! Moving on to what they’ve also mentioned in conjunction to Walpurgisnacht:

Baba Yaga

First and foremost, Baba Yaga has nothing to do with Walpurgisnacht in folklore, this is an invention of Ekuoto. The Harz mountains are in Germany, whereas Baba Yaga is a figure in Slavic folklore.  

Stories in which Baba Yaga appears often have several themes: “she lives in the forest, which is her domain” (Zipes VIII); that her house has chicken legs (Forrester XXVII); that her “house may be surrounded with a fence of bones, perhaps topped with skulls (Forrester XXVIII). She sometimes also has a black cat (Forrester XXVIII). Jack Zipes, in the foreword to Baba Yaga: The Wild Witch of the East in Russian Fairy Tales, describes her as “not just a dangerous witch but also a maternal benefactress, probably related to a pagan goddess” and “inscrutable and so powerful that she does not owe an allegiance to the Devil or God or even to her storytellers” (Zipes VIII). Sibelan Forrester, in that same book, describes her as “both a cannibal and a kind of innkeeper, a woman who threatens but also often rewards” (Forrester XXXV). Skulls with light coming out of their eye sockets shows up in the fairy tale Vasilia the Beautiful—“the eyes of all the skulls on the fence lit up, and the whole clearing became light as midday” (Forrester XXXVIII, XLIV, 175).

Now, so far in Make the Exorcist Fall in Love, we’ve been presented with Baba Yaga as a witch who Satan calls different from the other witches, who tried purifying the angry souls of those killed by the church until she became corrupted by their rage and desired the power to kill god, and has at least three contracts with Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub (but not Leviathan). She also appears as a black cat.

The parts that most clearly draw upon traditional Baba Yaga folklore are the skulls, the chicken legged house in the middle of the woods, and the idea of her being a total wildcard. As far as I can tell, the backstory they’ve given her about purifying souls killed by the church is completely original to Ekuoto, although it could be in reference to either some piece of folklore or literature that I’m not familiar with. Traditionally, the bones and skulls in Baba Yaga’s home are presumably a threat that the hero might next be a victim of hers (Forrester XXIX). Here, they are victims of the church.

The closest thing I have been able to find is the invented backstory is from Dubravka Ugrešić’s book, Baba Yaga Laid an Egg, published as part of the Canongate Myth Series (themed around reinterpreting international mythology): “That they would finally stop bowing down to men with bloodshot eyes, men who are guilty of killing millions of people, and who still have not had enough. For they are the ones who leave a trail of human skills behind them, yet people’s torpid imaginations stick those skulls on the fence of a solitary old woman who lives on the edge of the forest” (Ugrešić’ 243). Here also the skulls are affiliated not with her cannibalism but the killings of patriarchal power. The book was originally published in Croatian and has several different languages it is available in translation, although, as far as I can tell, Japanese is not one of them, so I don’t know how familiar Arima Aruma would be with it.

I’m also fascinated by the beheaded, veiled skeletal figure with the large stomach wound we see who points towards Baba Yaga’s house. Baba Yaga is sometimes presented as a mother (Forrester XXXVIII) and the large stomach opening to me almost looks like the surgical removal of a child from the womb, although that may be a stretch.

Contemporary c-sections are also often horizontal, although historically in Europe and the Americas, up until developments in surgery and gynecology in the nineteenth century, they were only performed when the mother was dead or had no hope for survival. The images I’ve seen depicting c-sections in the 15th and 16th centuries seem to depict vertical incisions though, which lines up more with this figure’s wound. (I’m not citing these but will provide links: https://www.webmd.com/baby/what-happens-during-c-section; https://www.nlm.nih.gov/exhibition/cesarean/part1.html ). I think it would also line up with some of the other imagery that’s been established in series, such as the wound/vagina/pregnancy image combo we got in the first chapter with Asmodeus.

It's also been implied that she had something to do with binding Beelzebub from entering Germany:

That file really closely follows the contours of a Baba Yaga fairy tale—getting lost in the forest, the flaming bone torch like in Vasilia the Beautiful. I’m extremely fascinated by the way in which Baba Yaga is being presented in Ekuoto and can’t wait to see more about her motivations.

Continued in Part Two

[minimac-mspl]

Understanding the Unit of Viscosity: A Key Parameter in Lubrication

Introduction to Viscosity

Importance of Viscosity in Lubrication

In lubrication, viscosity determines how effectively a lubricant can separate moving components, reducing friction, preventing wear, and minimizing energy loss. Using the wrong viscosity lubricant can lead to either inadequate protection (if too low) or increased drag and energy consumption (if too high).

For industrial machinery, oil and grease formulations are selected based on viscosity SI units and standardized measurement systems like ISO VG (Viscosity Grade) and SAE (Society of Automotive Engineers) viscosity grades.

Viscosity SI Units and Other Measurement Units

Viscosity is measured using several units depending on whether it is dynamic viscosity or kinematic viscosity.

Dynamic Viscosity (Absolute Viscosity) Units

SI Unit: Pascal-second (Pa·s) or milliPascal-second (mPa·s)

CGS Unit: Poise (P) or centipoise (cP), where 1 P = 0.1 Pa·s

Common Industrial Use: Centipoise (cP) is frequently used in lubrication industry applications.

Kinematic Viscosity Units

SI Unit: Square meter per second (m²/s)

CGS Unit: Stokes (St) or centistokes (cSt), where 1 St = 10⁻⁴ m²/s

Common Industrial Use: Centistokes (cSt) is the most widely used unit in industrial lubrication, with ISO VG ratings based on kinematic viscosity at 40°C.

Understanding Absolute Viscosity (Dynamic Viscosity)

Absolute viscosity, also known as dynamic viscosity, refers to a fluid’s resistance to shear stress. It measures the force required to move one layer of fluid over another.

Formula:

Where:

= dynamic viscosity (Pa·s or cP)

= applied force (N)

= area of the fluid layer (m²)

= velocity gradient (s⁻¹)

Dynamic viscosity is used to determine how a lubricant behaves under mechanical stress and is critical in applications involving gears, hydraulics, and compressors.

Understanding Kinematic Viscosity

Kinematic viscosity is the ratio of dynamic viscosity to the density of the fluid. It represents how fast a fluid flows under gravity.

Formula:

= kinematic viscosity (m²/s or cSt)

= dynamic viscosity (Pa·s or cP)

= density of the fluid (kg/m³)

Kinematic viscosity is widely used in industrial lubrication standards such as ISO VG ratings, which categorize lubricants based on their kinematic viscosity at 40°C

Viscosity vs. Kinematic Viscosity

While dynamic viscosity measures a fluid’s internal resistance to movement, kinematic viscosity considers both viscosity and fluid density. In lubrication, the kinematic viscosity-to-viscosity relationship helps in determining how a lubricant will behave under real-world operating conditions.

Coefficient of Viscosity Unit and Its Role

The coefficient of viscosity represents the relationship between shear stress and shear rate in a fluid. It is often synonymous with dynamic viscosity in Newtonian fluids. The coefficient of viscosity is crucial in industries where precise viscosity control is required for operations like metalworking, automotive lubrication, and hydraulic systems.

Viscosity Measurement Units and Techniques

Measuring viscosity requires specialized instruments that ensure accuracy in selecting the right lubricant.

Common Viscosity Measurement Techniques:

Capillary Viscometers (Ubbelohde, Ostwald) – Used for kinematic viscosity.

Rotational Viscometers (Brookfield Viscometer) – Measures dynamic viscosity.

Falling Ball Viscometer – Determines viscosity by measuring the falling speed of a ball through the fluid.

Redwood and Saybolt Viscometers – Used in petroleum industries.

Each method provides valuable insights into the viscosity behavior of lubricants under different conditions.

Conclusion

Understanding viscosity measurement units and their significance in lubrication is crucial for selecting the right lubricant. Absolute viscosity (dynamic viscosity) and kinematic viscosity serve different purposes but are interrelated. By using viscosity SI units like Pascal-seconds and centistokes, industries can ensure optimal lubrication performance, reduce wear, and enhance machinery longevity. For more information - click here

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quick drop the warlock/paladin Trafalgar Law and sun god Nika fic and run away (also on A03)

●・○・●・○・●

The temple of the god sits at the top of the hill, surrounded on all sides by dense trees and obscuring vines.

It's taken Trafalgar Law a total of seven days to find it—seven days of nonstop walking and walking until he finally caught the barest glimpse of the path that the villagers had told him to search for. It wasn't easy, seeing as the path had been all but lost to time and the elements. All that remained of the trail was a small collection of stones at the base of the hill, and a faded wooden stake that had long since rotted.

Now though, standing in front of the stone arch entrance overrun by vines, he has an overwhelming sense that he should not be here. Because truly, isn't all of this a fruitless endeavor anyway? He has spent all this time, all these years chasing after something that others would simply scoff at. He's been mocked, spat upon, laughed out of too many places to count on both hands.

Even standing in front of his one last chance, he can't help how his palms sweat as he steps through the entrance.

The inside of the temple is also in a state of disrepair. On the right, an entire tree has overtaken one of the old windows, the branches extending into the building and up to the arched ceiling above. Sunlight comes through the top, filtering through sets of artfully designed holes in the brickwork. Patterns of dancing sun rays decorate the floor, illuminating the grass and dirt underneath his feet with images of the sun and stars, of crowds of people and bright smiles.

The temple itself is, surprisingly, rather small. Law distinctly remembers the temples of his youth—the ones which he was brought to by his parents with his younger sister, when they were still alive—being far bigger than this one, with grand statues and magnificent marble carvings engraved into the walls.

He finds none of that here. The walls have been taken by nature, underneath which he can make out pieces of what might have once been beautiful paintings. The ceiling is possibly the grandest part, with the sunlight holes clearly having been placed to create the images that dance at his feet. At the very center of the room there is a small pedestal, and on that pedestal is a large golden chalice.

Law's breath catches in his throat, and he freezes in place. His entire body suddenly feels warm in a way he's unsure if he has ever felt before. It's as though the entire room has been shrouded in steam from a hot bath, or draped with a blanket and placed before a fire. But none of that is what makes Law stop.

He stops because inside of the chalice there is a flickering flame.

Seek the sun.

Truth be told, Law had always expected to fail. Even as Cora had died, even still, he could never truly convince himself that he stood any kind of chance. But it's there, exactly as he'd been told years ago as Cora lay dying in a pool of his own blood.

The burning white sun. Find him, Law.

I'm sorry I couldn't save you.

I love you.

Law jerks into action, stumbling over the corner step of the pedestal. His breathing is erratic now, heartbeat unsteady and loud in his ears. He makes to step towards the chalice, hands outstretched to grab it, when all of a sudden his entire field of vision erupts with bright orange flames.

He jumps back with a panicked shout, falling off the pedestal to the ground underneath. His hands burn, singed black by the column of fire that has appeared in a circle around the chalice. As he watches, the flames coalesce into two figures, each standing to either side of the chalice. Each of the figures appear humanoid, with long staffs of flame held out towards him.

"You would steal from a god?!" A voice comes from one of the figures, the one on the left seemingly. Law watches, eyes wide, as the flames get lower and lower until finally disappearing altogether. In their place, two men stand on either side, carrying burning golden staffs pointed directly at him.

"Explain yourself," speaks the second, with blond hair and scarred skin. The other one is dark-haired, with brown skin and freckles. Although they both appear human, he knows instinctively that if they so wished he would be dead in an instant.

"I-I'm sorry." He moves to a kneeling position and tilts his head forward.

The first man bares his teeth at him, making a jab with the flaming tip of his staff. "You were told to explain yourself, mortal. Why were you trying to steal him?"

"I—" Law bites his tongue. Is it truly a good idea to divulge everything to these two men? He has no idea who they are, and everything he's found over the last three years had indicated that he was looking for a singular god, powerful enough to topple nations with nothing but a gleeful laugh.

"Who are you?" He asks, even as they both raise their staffs to point at his face. "The legends speak of one god. With white hair and white clothes."

The two men exchange a look, one that Law can't read the intentions of. Neither of them move their weapons away from him. Eventually, they turn back to him with identical scowls.

"I am Fire Fist,"

"And I am Flame Emperor."

"We are the sun god's guardians." They both speak simultaneously, and Law notices the white flame inside of the chalice flickering higher.

"I didn't know the sun god had guardians."

"Well clearly he needs them, to keep random humans from wandering in and stealing." The one with dark hair, who'd called himself Fire Fist, glares at him.

"You were told to explain yourself." Flame Emperor speaks this time, nudging his staff even closer. "You have sixty seconds."

"I wasn't trying to steal." Law immediately defends. "I was sent here to find the sun god for a reason. I-I need its—um. I need his help."

Fire Fist arches a singular eyebrow at him. The burning staff comes closer, until the heat from the flame starts to brush his throat. "And you expect to get that help by stealing the last of his fire?"

"Then how do I do it? How do I get his help?" Law demands, trying to curb his mounting irritation.

"You can start by telling us exactly what you want from him."

"I need his help. I don't have anything else. This was my last hope. I can't defeat him without it."

"Him?"

"My uncle. He's taken over an entire kingdom, ousted the king from his own throne and killed the only person who I could turn to. I've spent years and years searching for this place, and I finally found it. Please, let me speak to the sun god. He's my only chance of winning."

"Did you intend to take the last of his flames for yourself?" Flame Emperor questions, although mercifully he lowers his staff, pushing down his fellow guardian's as well. "Because if that was your plan, I'm afraid it never would have worked. His power would have fizzled out long before you could make your way back to this kingdom to face your uncle. If you truly want to defeat him, you can't do it by taking."

"You would have to work together." Fire Fist interjects. "He can help you, but only if you agree to help him in return."

"What do you mean?"

"The sacred pact," explains the blond. "It's the only way he can be powerful enough to help you."

Law frowns. A pact with a god is the absolute last thing he had ever considered taking on, let alone with a dying god. And such pacts are notoriously difficult to dissolve should he want to do so in the future. Is it truly smart to tie himself to something like this?

Well…when he thinks about it more, yes, he decides. Even if it results in disaster, if Doflamingo's fall comes first, then everything else be damned. If things go according to his plan, then he won't be around long after the bastard is dead to deal with the consequences.

"Okay," He breathes. "I'll do that. I'll make the pact."

Again, the two guardians exchange a look between each other. A moment later they both burst into flames, which form out a semicircle on the floor around the pedestal with the chalice, with an opening right in front of it. For him.

Law swallows down the lump in his throat and pushes himself to his feet, approaching the chalice. The white flame inside seems to be burning taller now, nearly eye level with him. He stands there for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Should he plunge his hands into the fire? It seems insane to him, but he's heard stories of those who take the gods of fire as their patrons having to first set themselves alight to prove their worth.

Shoving down the nerves in his stomach, Law raises one hand to the chalice. Even as he moves closer and closer to the flame, though, he finds it does not burn as he had expected. It is warm, yes, but not painful. His hand does not shake as he finally presses his fingers into the tips of the flickering fire.

His first thought is that the flames tickle. In that same second, there is a flash of white and the flame is gone. Instead, hovering in place before him is a figure shrouded in white clouds, floating on his back with his hands behind his head and a radiant smile on his face. Law stares, watching in a mixture of awe and disbelief as the figure turns over onto his stomach and laughs.

"Ace and Sabo said you might try to kill me." He says, and Law gapes at him.

"K-Kill you?" He demands. "Aren't you a god?"

"Yeah," He waves one hand at him before letting it fall to the side, swaying through the air lazily. "But no one really cares about that anymore."

"I didn't come here to kill you. I came because I need your help."

"Really?" The strangely smiling god perks up immediately, sitting up straight and floating even closer until his face is so close they're almost touching. "With what?"

"To defeat someone."

"Who's that?"

"My uncle. His name is Doflamingo. He's—He killed someone I love."

"Hmm…okay! I'll do it!" The god laughs again, rolling over onto his back again so he's looking at him from upside down. "I'll help you beat this Dofam—Dof—uh, Mingo guy!"

"J-Just like that?" Law demands, wanting to slap himself because, really, is he trying to get himself killed after all this effort? "Isn't there something I'm supposed to do for your first? Like…offer an animal sacrifice, o-or pledge my firstborn child or something?"

"Nah, I don't care about anything like that." He laughs again. "You need help, and I decided I like you. So I'm gonna help you."

"That's…That's it?"

"That's it."

He grins and Law stares, stunned into speechlessness at the sheer nonchalance of the god before him. Were it not for the overwhelming sensation of warmth and power that surrounds him, he might have doubted that he was even a god at all. He is nothing like the gods Law has known, with their demands for worship and riches and sacrifice.

"Nika," He jumps, startled at the sudden reappearance of the two guardians. The god makes a face and moves upright, crossing his legs and looking over at the two men. The one who'd spoken was the blond, who sends their god a stern look not unlike that of a disapproving parent. "You're supposed to ask more questions than that. He might betray you."

The god groans, a distinctly childish sound. Clearly annoyed, he turns again to Law. "Are you going to betray me?"

Law swallows hard. "No,"

"There, see?"

Fire Fist closes his eyes and takes a deep, slow breath. "That is not what we meant."

"It's fine!" The god laughs, draping himself over the shoulders of them both. "Besides, this sounds like fun—way more fun than staying here all the time."

"But you didn't even ask what—" Fire Fist begins to protest again, but stops as the other guardian reaches out and grabs his should, shaking his head once.

"If that's what you really want," Flame Emperor speaks, sighing before turning back to look at the god, who keeps on smiling. "Then we're in no position to stop you."

"We're coming with you." Fire Fist says, pointing at him with a glare. "That, at least, isn't up for debate."

"So this is official, then?" Law asks. "What does that mean?"

"It means that Nika will become your god." Flame Emperor explains. "And you will become his warrior."

"His…warrior? You mean, like—"

"You'll swear the oath." He's cut off, again by Flame Emperor. "Give yourself over to him, and he'll do the same for you. That's the only way you can access each other's power."

"Then I can help you beat this Mingo guy." Nika finishes the explanation with his ever-present grin, floating over until his face is right beside him. "It'll be fun!"

"Fun…" Law swallows down the feeling of bile in his throat. Giving himself up to a god sound utterly ludicrous, and several years ago he would have scoffed at whoever would dare suggest such a thing. But now, all of his options were gone. This was his last remaining hope. "Okay. Okay…fine. What do I have to do?"

The god holds out his hands, and white flames burst forth from his palms. The light creates shadows on his face, rippling and changing in shape and size. He wiggles his fingers and blows on the fire. Small, thin tendrils of flame slip from between his hold and start drifting towards Law.

He tenses, but keeps his feet firmly in place. When the first of the flames touch him, he notices immediately that they do not burn. Instead, a pleasant tingling sensation spreads as the tendrils wrap themselves around his arms and legs, covering his torso and neck until his entire body is wreathed in warm, white flames.

"Trafalgar Law," Flame Emperor speaks up over the gentle crackle of the fire, and Law opens his eyes, not having realized he closed them to begin with. It will only be later that he will remember he never gave them his name. "The guiding light of the sun both warms and kills, protects and destroys, fosters and razes. To carry its power is to carry life itself. Is this a burden you are willing to bear?"

"Yes," He makes his voice as clear and loud as he can muster. It's difficult to see through the column of flames, but he's almost certain the god before him smiles again.

"Then accept the sun as your god, as your own guiding light. And the sun will protect you in turn, so long as you remain true."

The flames burn higher for a brief second, and then they're gone. Law gasps, blinking around the suddenly empty room. He spins around, searching for the three figures who'd just been here with him, only to find the temple totally devoid. Even the light coming through the ceiling has faded, giving way to the reds, pinks, and oranges of dusk.

Did I dream it? Have I finally gone insane?

He places a hand to his chest, intending to feel for some unnatural warmth, or perhaps a burn or two. Instead, when his palm settles just above his heart, his breath catches in his throat.

His heart is beating strangely, far too quickly and not even close to normal.

It's definitely not normal. Rather than the beating of a heart, it sounds like…

"Drums,"

He screams, scrambling backwards as he turns on his heel. The god has returned, hovering just behind him with a small smile on his face. His white, cloudy hair ripples back and forth like he's out in the wind. Upon closer inspection, his form is translucent, shifting and disappearing every few seconds. If he looked from the corner of his eyes, it might even be possible to pass over him completely.

"Drums?" He asks, one hand still pressed to his rapidly beating heart.

The god nods, laughing to himself. "Yup—the drumbeat. That's what you're feeling."

"Is that—normal?" He frowns, looking down at his chest like he expects his heart to suddenly jump out.

In response, the god merely shrugs. He turns over midair, standing upright but with both feet still hovering above the floor of the temple. "I've never made an oath before. But mine does it, too."

"It's not going to hurt me?" He questions even though he's fairly sure the best he's going to get is a shrug. "Human hearts aren't supposed to beat this fast. It's dangerous."

"Why would it be dangerous?"

Law frowns, letting his hand drop. He doesn't feel dizzy, and his breathing has returned to normal. Despite the rapid beat, his chest does not hurt, nor does he feel any throbbing in his neck or head. It doesn't seem to be having negative effects, but he plans to still keep an eye on himself just in case it does later on. "It—It doesn't matter. What do we do now?"

The god grins, an especially wide smile that takes up the whole of his face. "Now we go beat up your uncle, a'course!"

"…right." Law sighs, pulling his coat further around himself and turning for the door. "Okay. Let's go, then. It's a long journey back."

"Then it's an adventure!" The god shouts, zooming on ahead of him and right out the crumbled door. He hurries after him, leaving the temple of the sun god behind.

[drops-of-moonlights]

some more random items in ReStart cuz I need them for two future posts lmao

First off, the Moon Phase Music Box! It's a fusion of the Orgel/Star Locket from the anime and the watch from the other adaptations, a gift Serenity made to Endymion that Mamoru ends up getting. He in turn ends up giving it to Usagi, and this kickstarts the flashbacks for the two of them that end up in the awakening of their past lives once Mamoru takes a hit for Usagi. Its music can do two things - power up Serenity, and calm her down. It breaks during the final battle with Metallia, alongside Serenity's spirit.

Then we have the Holy Moon Blade! Silmil Venus' weapon that Minako then uses once she gains access to it (she gets it upon awakening as Venus instead of being at the Moon). It's a heavy sword, made specifically for Silmil Venus, and it has "For the Glory of Serenity and the Moon" engraved in the blade itself. Minako fucking hates this thing (and you can read about that in this old fic of mine lol) but during the fight at D-Point it is destroyed and lost forever.

The Grail of Serenity! My version of the Holy Grail. It was created by Queen Serenity, in an attempt to kickstart her daughter's Senshi form - via absorbing the energy of the other Senshi under her, of course. This never worked, and while a powerful item, it was simply stored and not thought of for milennia. The Death Busters want it, as its capabilities would let them finally awaken Mistress 9 who would in turn be able to summon Pharaoh 90, while the Senshi wanted it to avoid such fate. Pluto was in possession of it all along, and grants it to Usagi - who accidentally activates it, draining part of all Senshi present, and kickstarting her first transformation into Eternal Sailor Moon. Usagi reluctantly uses it for this purpose as the battle against the Death Busters rages on, until Mistress 9 claims it for herself, and having used it, destroys it.

Finally, the Elysian Filter! This is my version of the Stallion Rève, aka the Horse Container™ from SuperS. Tsubasa and Pegasus can communicate with it, and it's also used to purify Dream Mirrors, which you'll learn about below!

Now for the things that make up your soul!

Pure Heart Crystals work similar to how they did in S - they're a crystallized form of a person's emotions and determination, denoting what they're "pure" about, be it general demeanor or laser-focus into one thing. The Death Busters need them as their power can be used to feed their connection to Tau Nebula, while the Outers need them as two particular Crystals are the ones that hold their Talismans. People that have their Pure Heart Crystal removed will still live, but it turns them into a hollow person who have lost their drive in life.

Dream Mirrors are a person's coalesced wishes, each representing what they want out of the future, as well as a direct connection to Elysium, the realm of Dreams. If someone has their Dream Mirror removed, nothing bad will happen as long as they keep it in their possession, but if it's taken away or destroyed that person will fall into a coma, and possibly die. The Dead Moon Circus can remove and "infect" people's Dream Mirrors with nightmares, which then form from it as a Lemures. A tainted Dream Mirror has to be purified with the Elysian Filter.

Finally we have the Star Seeds, which ARE actually your actual soul. Every living being has one, created from the Galaxy Cauldrons at the heart of every galaxy. Most Star Seeds are colorless, but there is people with colored Star Seeds (called Shooting Star Seeds) who display powers above the normal person. a level above a Shooting Star Seed is a Sailor Crystal, associated with a celestial body and marking that person as the guardian of it, and a level above that is a Blessed Sailor Crystal, which is the same but you're markedly more powerful.