#shannon pristin

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[hotshotsxyz]

hope for the future (got me on my knees)

(buddie) (s8 spec) (2.4k words) car crash spec <3 title from bastille's hope for the future, which, imo, is one of the eddie songs of all time cw: blood (like. a lot)

Eddie’s not supposed to be here. He’s not—

He’s—

God, he’s not supposed to be here again. He’s not even on shift. But Buck is.

It was a favor. He’s covering for a last minute absence on C shift. So now he’s—

He’s on shift and he’s lying in the middle of the road and he’s not moving. And Eddie. Can’t. Breathe.

“Buck!” someone shouts, and Jesus it sounds like their entire world just crumbled. Eddie’s throat feels raw like—

Oh.

He’s the one screaming.

Buck’s three feet away from him, sluggishly bleeding out on the pavement. Shannon’s six feet under in a graveyard halfway across the city. Buck’s ribs are giving way beneath Eddie’s hands. Buck’s blood is soaking through his jeans. It’s staining him, his skin, his mind.

He—

“Sir!” Someone snaps. “You need to—shit, Diaz?”

No, that’s—it’s not Eddie who’s broken and unmoving on the ground. It’s not Eddie who’s going to die with or without a tube down his throat.

It’s—

It’s—

Two pairs of hands grab him, yank him away.

“No!” Eddie screams, thrashing wildly at whoever it is that thinks they can keep him from Buck.

“Diaz, stop!”

He can’t. He won’t.

“You have to let them help him.”

They won’t do enough. Only Eddie will fight for him hard enough. Only Eddie knows how to bring him back. An animalistic snarl climbs out from his chest.

“I’ve got a pulse!” a paramedic Eddie doesn’t recognize shouts. She’s a floater, probably.

A floater is holding Buck’s life in her hands. Does she even know? Does she know that the world will stop turning if he’s not in it?

Eddie’s knees hit the pavement. Distantly, he feels the sting. Mostly, though, he feels Buck’s blood. It’s on his hands and soaking through his clothes, painting him red, red, red.

Two firefighters carefully roll Buck onto a body board and lift him to the stretcher. For a split second, it’s 2019. Eddie’s watching his wife die. He’s holding Buck’s hand and trying not to stare at his mangled leg.

“Diaz! Now or never, are you coming with us?”

He doesn’t feel himself move, but between one blink and the next he finds himself in the back of an ambulance staring down at his—

His—

Buck’s eyelashes flutter and Eddie can’t do this.

“Please,” he sobs, clutching Buck’s hand. “You—you have to—”

He’s squeezing too hard. So hard he might break Buck’s hand, but he’s terrified that if he lets go, so will Buck.

The floater moves to intubate, but before she can Buck heaves a shuddering breath and opens his eyes.

Eddie thinks he might be screaming again, only this time the sound is trapped deep inside him.

“Eds… hurt?” Buck manages.

He must be. He’s dying maybe, because that’s the only explanation he can think of for the creeping numbness in his limbs.

“He’s fine, Buckley,” the floater says.

She’s wrong. She doesn’t— how could she? She doesn’t know that every piece of Eddie that’s worth anything is dying right alongside his—

“I can’t wait any longer,” she says apologetically before shoving a plastic tube down Buck’s trachea. He chokes on it, and oh, Eddie’s choking too.

The ambulance slows and Eddie’s about to bang against the wall, about to demand they keep going, when the doors are flung open revealing an entire trauma team dressed in pristine scrubs.

The floater rattles off Buck’s vitals and the injuries they know of.

As they pull Buck from the back of the ambulance, one of the doctors catches Eddie’s eye. He nods, and Eddie hopes to God that means he knows that Los Angeles will be swallowed by the sea if this man doesn’t live.

All at once, Buck is gone and Eddie’s left standing next to an ambulance that could be the last place he ever hears Buck speak.

“Diaz, you okay?” The C shift captain whose name Eddie can’t be bothered to remember right now asks.

No.

No.

No.

He doesn’t answer.

…

There’s blood on his face. Buck’s blood. Eddie doesn’t— he’s not sure how it got there, but now that he sees it, he can feel it too. It’s tacky and drying and God, there’s so much.

Gentle hands turn him away from the mirror.

“No,” Eddie says as his sluggish brain recognizes Bobby. “No, no he can’t—“

Bobby was there when—

He held Eddie. Let him weep into his shoulder. Stood steady as Eddie’s world crumbled to pieces.

“He’s in surgery,” Bobby says.

“They don’t know,” Eddie babbles.

Bobby’s face creases in concern. “Know what, Eddie?”

“He’s— he—“ He can’t force the words out.

“Eddie,” he repeats forcefully.

“I love him,” Eddie croaks.

Bobby, steadfast and solid, cracks.

One sob escapes his chest, then another, and soon they’re both sliding to grimy bathroom floor, trying not to shatter entirely.

“I can’t lose another—“ Bobby gasps.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. Bobby can’t lose another child. He can’t lose another spouse. Not now, not when he’s just begun to understand the depth of what he’s been denying himself for what feels like his entire life. Not now, not ever. Not— not, Buck.

The bathroom door bangs open and Hen steps in. Tear tracks stain her cheeks, but Eddie can’t bring himself to analyze her expression further. If Buck’s— Eddie wants to live in a world that hasn’t quite ended as long as he possibly can.

“No update,” she says quietly.

She grabs a few paper towels and wets them in the sink. She kneels in front of Eddie and brings one to his face. He flinches back.

“Eddie?” she asks.

He swallows past the lump in his throat. “What if…”

What if the blood staining his skin is the last piece of Buck he gets to keep? What if he dies on the operating table? What if he’s already dead? Eddie can’t— he won’t let anyone take the last of him away.

A harsh sob drags itself past his lips.

“Oh, Eddie,” Hen whispers, and why do people keep saying his name?

No one— he’s never heard it so many times from anyone but Buck. He doesn’t want to hear it from anyone but Buck. He shakes his head and presses his hands to his ears.

Hen says something else, but all he can hear is the whoosh of his own pulse, and it’s so unfair. Shouldn’t his heart know not to beat until he’s sure Buck’s will again?

“Eddie,” Hen says, taking his hands. “Let me, please.”

He can’t bring himself to agree, but he doesn’t fight back when she raises the paper towel to his face again. She pulls it across his skin in gentle drags, but it’s cold and Eddie can’t help but think uncharitably that Buck would’ve waited for the water to warm before he wet the towels.

When she’s done with his face, Hen guides him to the sink to wash the blood from his hands too. For a split second, Eddie wonders if Buck washed his blood away in this same sink after Eddie was shot. He wonders if Buck’s hands shook the way his are shaking now.

“That’s good Eddie, there you go,” Hen encourages him softly.

He bristles at her careful tone. Nothing she says can make any of this better or worse, not unless she can tell him with absolute certainty whether or not Buck will survive the night.

“I grabbed your duffle from the station,” she continues, and it’s only then that he notices his own bag slung over her shoulder. “Think you can get changed?”

Eddie nods mutely. Distantly, it occurs to him that this is part of what makes Hen such a good paramedic— her ability to meet someone where they are. He peels off his henley and exchanges it for the long sleeve LAFD crewneck she hands him.

He swaps his pants next, and for the first time, wearing a piece of the uniform feels wrong. He couldn’t— he wasn’t a medic today. If it had just been him and Buck out there, Buck would be dead already. He’d, what? Held his torn skin together? As if that was the wound that was going to kill him. Shannon didn’t even bleed when she died.

“Maddie and Chim are waiting for you,” Hen says, nodding toward the door. “I’m going to sit with Cap for a little while, okay?”

Again, Eddie nods. He stumbles through the door and into the arms of a woman who, for all they share, he barely knows.

He can’t bring himself to look her in the eye. She’ll know, he thinks, know that he didn’t do enough. Know that he failed one of the three people she loves most in this world.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks into her hair.

“For what?” she asks shakily.

“I should’ve— I didn’t—“

“You were there,” Maddie says. “You made sure he knows he’s not alone.”

Eddie swallows harshly.

“He knows what he’s fighting for,” Maddie continues. “Thank you.”

He wants to shake her. He should’ve done more. He’d demanded it once of a different team of doctors, and then he couldn’t even—

He was there and it didn’t matter. Buck’s still dying in a sterile operating room.

Maddie pushes him toward a chair next to Chimney in the waiting room, then sits on his other side. They talk to him, Eddie thinks, but he doesn’t hear a word.

…

“Family of Evan Buckley?”

Eddie’s on his feet before he’s even made a conscious decision to stand. Maddie follows quickly behind him, and— oh, Bobby’s in the waiting room now, too.

The doctor smiles at them, and while Eddie’s sure it’s meant to be reassuring, every second that passes without news is more excruciating than the last.

“Mr. Buckley did well in surgery,” she says.

Eddie’s entire body sags, like a marionette with its strings cut. Hen’s subtle but steadying hand on his back is the only reason he doesn’t collapse to the floor right then and there.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” the doctor continues, “but his CT was clear and we were able to locate and repair the source of his internal bleeding.”

“He’s going to be okay?” Maddie asks, high and watery.

The doctor nods. “We’d like to keep him a few days for observation, but barring unforeseen complications, we believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

Maddie presses a hand to her mouth and nods, eyes shining.

“The effects of the anesthesia should be wearing off soon, I can take two of you to his room.”

To Eddie’s surprise, Maddie takes his hand. “We’ll—us,” she says.

Eddie looks at Maddie, then Bobby. “Are you—are you sure?”

“Go,” Bobby says. “He needs you.”

Eddie’s not sure that’s true, but he sure as hell needs Buck and he—he thinks this is probably one of those times when he’s allowed to be a little selfish.

“Through these doors,” the doctor says, leading them back with a wave of her key card.

…

He’s pale, unnaturally so. It’s like, despite the massive transfusion he received, there still isn’t enough blood pumping through his veins. Eddie wishes he could wring out his shirt and return every drop he took.

“Eddie, what happened?” Maddie asks softly.

Eddie shakes his head. “I, uh, I wasn’t supposed to be there,” he says haltingly.

Maddie takes his hand with the one that isn’t holding Buck’s and squeezes.

“I don’t think he knew I was there,” Eddie continues. “It was just… God, Maddie, it was a coincidence.”

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath.

“It came out of nowhere. They were responding to a fender bender, wouldn’t have even been a call except one of the drivers was stuck in their car, I think. He was helping someone when it—there was a car. And then he was just—I couldn’t—he—”

Maddie squeezes his hand again. “You know, I—” she hesitates, then nods like she’s made a decision. “I’ve never seen him happy the way he is with you.”

Against Eddie’s will, a pained noise escapes his throat. “I don’t know why,” he admits. He looks down at his feet.

“Sure,” Maddie says, blowing out an amused huff.

“He’s so good. He walks into a room and everything gets brighter. He’s the sun,” Eddie says helplessly.

Maddie’s smile turns impossibly fond. “You love him,” she says. It’s not a question.

A smile of his own spreads unbidden on his lips. “How could I not?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath.

Eddie whips his head around and sees Buck, eyes open, lips parted.

“Eddie,” he breathes.

He should be panicking, maybe. Throat closing, heart racing, but—the singular feeling in his chest is relief.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie says, incapable of and unwilling to keep the warmth from his voice.

“You—” Buck blinks twice, slow, like he’s trying to keep himself awake.

Eddie lays a hand on his ankle and squeezes. “Rest,” he says. “I’ll stay.”

“Stay… s’nice,” Buck slurs as he slips back into sleep.

“For what it’s worth,” Maddie says after a long moment, “pretty sure he loves you, too.”

Eddie watches the slow rise and fall of Buck’s chest. “Yeah,” he says, biting down on a grin that’s far too wide for the ICU, “I think he might.”

“Could take a second for him to work that out for himself,” Maddie says.

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle. “Oh, I know,” he says. “Gives me time to pick out a ring,” he jokes. Kind of.

Maddie laughs and shakes her head. “Is this your way of asking for my permission to propose?”

“Well I’m not going to ask your parents,” Eddie replies, wrinkling his nose.

Maddie’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Could you imagine if I said no after all of this?”

“I’d ask him anyway,” Eddie admits.

“Good answer,” Maddie says.

Eddie laughs. “Oh, so that was a test?”

“No,” Maddie replies, shaking her head. “But he deserves someone that chooses him no matter what.”

“I do,” Eddie says with conviction. “I will.”

“Then yes,” Maddie says. “Just—don’t ask him in the hospital.”

[titleleaf]

Trick or treat 🧺

A dastardly trick has been played! You look in your basket and find only a surprisingly pristine copy of R.L. Stine's Fear Street: SKI WEEKEND!

Snowbound! “Red” Porter was a stranger they’d met on their ski weekend. But Ariel Munroe, Doug Mahr and his girlfriend Shannon Harper were grateful he was there when they set out for home on the icy roads. Thank heaven for Red! He spotted the hilltop lodge when they were stranded by the blizzard. He took charge when they stumbled into strange surroundings, scared, tired and looking for refuge. But can he save them when their refuge becomes a trap? Suddenly their hosts are acting very sinisterly. Doug’s car is gone. The phones are dead. And the house is full of guns. If they steal one, maybe they can escape! Until a shot is fired and the real terror begins…

[cutwhipburn]

Mistake (Chapter Two)

WARNINGS: Mental Fuckery, Dehumanization, WRU/Box-Boy Universe Themes, Mental Torture, Human Experimentation, Alluding to Food Withholding, Fake News and the Spread of False Information, Illiteracy/Illiterate Whumpee, Alluding to Abuse of Underage Characters, Vomit/Throwing Up, Mentions of Previous Torture

Shannon came out of her office and made a beeline for the front door, Mistake and Norman following her as silent as two ghosts. Mistake knew they weren't supposed to be curious. These weren't its’ guests, they were their mother's.

But still, curiosity got the best of them, peeking out from behind their father as the door opened. If their father was right about the guests on the other side, it was more than excited to see Morgan Duevant again. She was so much kinder than either their mother or Evelyn. And best of all, she was Mistake’s age. That meant even if Mistake was half boxie, it didn’t matter much to Morgan.

Yet.

Norman was correct. Evelyn stood on the other side, arm holding tightly to her daughter. Cyrus loomed behind the two.

“Welcome Evelyn.” Shannon said with a quaint formality. Welcome back Morgan.”

“Hello Miss. Shannon.” Morgan said politely, noticing Mistake’s interested stare. She said nothing, where others would immediately inform Shannon to get Mistake in trouble.

“Hello Shannon. We are just-“ Evelyn took off her coat and thrust it into Norman’s arms. “-delighted to be seeing you again.”

Cyrus helped Morgan out of her coat, and she carefully handed it to Mistake. Mistake had never had a coat, certainly never one so soft like this. It was a white faux fur, perfectly pristine. Mistake carefully hung it up, Norman doing the same with Evelyn's before turning back to greet them.

“Hello Ms. Evelyn. Hello Miss. Morgan.” Norman kept his eyes trained on the ground, Mistake quickly copying the action. They weren't supposed to look guests directly in the eyes unless ordered too. It was rude otherwise. 

Mistake echoed their father’s words dutifully, following his lead in everything, just as they were supposed to.

Shannon, Evelyn, and Morgan moved further back into the house, Cyrus stepping in after them. He was followed by Evelyn's three other boxies.

Mistake didn't really know why she wanted-or needed-four, but it seemed Evelyn just got what she wanted. She had two box-boys, her Guard-Dog Cyrus and Romantic Sebastian; and two box-babes, a Custom Guard-Dog/Romantic called Elizabeth and a Platonic named Theodosia that Mistake had heard mentioned more than once was really more a boxie for Evelyn's boxies.

Mistake kind of liked the other boxies, besides Cyrus. They were always nice to it and called it Missy instead of Mistake. And, most importantly, they were nice to their papa. They always felt bad that they couldn’t be nicer to him since its mother could be so mean to him sometimes. Mistake had heard him crying before when he thought they were asleep.

Sebastian and Elizabeth especially were as sweet with Norman as they could be without getting in trouble. Theodosia was sweet on Mistake, fussing over their wounds in private and asking about its’ day. She was the same way with Morgan, almost blatantly obvious that she wished she had children of her own.

But a boxie wanting something? A ridiculous thought.

Boxie’s did not want things, nor need things. That was the way they were supposed to be.

Mistake was desperately trying to learn that for themselves. It was not meant want things, but they wanted so very much. They wanted its mother to love them, and to be allowed to speak with Morgan, and to read and not get hurt anymore and for their papa to be happy.

It was so hard not to want.

They don't know how their papa managed so well, he had dozens more rules and expectations than Mistake.

Elizabeth's hand almost brushes against Norman as the boxies all walk to the dining room.

Theodosia and Sebastian delicately sit on the floor, Elizabeth staring rigidly as she waited for Evelyn to tell her if she was allowed to sit.

Mistake admired Elizabeth the most of the other boxies, mostly because of how brave and tough she always seemed. Elizabeth never seemed scared of anything and nothing ever hurt her. 

Mistake wished they could brave the experiments like that.

Evelyn was almost pointedly ignoring her, handing Cyrus a drink cup they'd brought with them, and ordering him to go stand by the door. Mistake had never seen him eat. Only drink whatever was in the cup. Protein shakes, they were pretty sure.

They didn’t think that it had to be very fun to have a protein shake every day, but they weren’t supposed to think. Thinking too much was bad, it led to thoughts and ideas that upset Shannon and got Mistake into all sorts of trouble. And yet, they could never stop the way its mind wandered, fidgeting as Shannon looked up at them.

“Sit down, Mistake, what on earth are you doing?” She questioned. Mistake practically slammed into the floor with how fast they sat, mind searching blankly for an answer and finding none as their face flushed.

Their body ached terribly still.

“Copying her.” Evelyn said in amusement, giving the barest nod of the head towards Elizabeth. “Sit Elizabeth, position two.”

Elizabeth immediately did as told, Mistake taking care to push the demand out of its’ head. The position wasn't for them, just Elizabeth. They'd get in just as much trouble for accidentally following someone else's order and not following their own.

Mistake clasped their hands together, trying to think of nothing as they stared at them. Its eyes weren’t to wander, and they weren’t to copy Elizabeth, and they weren’t to want or think or talk. There were so many rules and they bored Mistake so, and yet, they were still nothing compared to the other boxies’ rules.  They couldn’t understand why they couldn’t be as perfect as them.

Shannon and Evelyn both served themselves first, Evelyn serving Morgan next while Shannon made up Mistake’s plate, passing it to them. Evelyn gave what portions she wished on each of her boxies’ plates, but she didn't hand Elizabeth hers after giving Sebastian and Theodosia their plates. Norman never got a plate. He had to sit underneath the table, at Shannon’s feet, where she could them feed him whatever she wished off her plate.

She never gave much.

“Don't you want your food?” Evelyn taunted, Elizabeth forcing her face to stay still and neutral. “Why don't you ask for it?”

Mistake held back a cringe. looking nervously at Elizabeth to see if she'd fail that test. Elizabeth held strong. She wasn't permitted to speak.

Evelyn finally gave her a plate after a few more seconds of silence.

None of the boxies were given silverware.

Mistake stared down at their plate of food. It was full, it nearly always was. Their mother always wanted them fit and ready for experiments at all times, so that meant they had to be fed well, and regularly. If they wasted away, after all, who would be her test dummy? 

But they always hated its food. Shannon always gave them too much, which Mistake couldn’t wrap their head around, since their father got so little. They always ate it all, of course, but it hurt their stomach to the point where they’d sometimes throw it up. Complaining about it was a sure way to get into trouble, and to get no food for the rest of the week. They had been good this week, and hadn’t complained once or thrown up in front of Shannon. They had to keep this up.

Mistake should be grateful. Their father hardly got anything and never complained. Why should they complain about getting too much?

They wished they could just see him while it ate. It would make them feel better, being able to sit with him, maybe even be allowed to talk over dinner like a normal family. But they never could. The tablecloth was too long. Even if it wasn't…Mistake didn't really think its’ father wanted them to see

Shannon took the first bite of the meal, triggering Mistake to follow along in her action, taking the food in their hands and eating as carefully as they could. If they made too big a mess or spilled, they’d get in so much trouble.

The meal went as it usually did, with Evelyn prattling on about her accomplishments and everything she’d done, only for Shannon to quickly overshadow it with talks of her experiments and inventions. Morgan, of course, was silent eating her food.

Mistake cringed when Shannon spoke of her latest invention, the pain returning to their legs like an awful phantom.

“Well won't that be handy for the little runners.” Evelyn laughed, feigning charm. “They should know better, rushing off could only get the poor things hurt.”

Mistake liked to run. It was probably where their mother had gotten the idea for the invention in first place. Mistake, in their few moments of free time, ran themself silly in the backyard, until they were exhausted. Shannon had not approved.

It was not an appropriate part of Mistake’s training. Why on earth would they ever need to run?

Only to leave, and that was dangerous, like Evelyn said.

“Yes,” Shannon agreed, her smile sharp and casual. “Mistake quite proved the value of my invention. Mistake,” Shannon directed suddenly at her child. Mistake paused eating to indicate they were listening. “Do you want to run?”

Mistake knew the answer to that question, their little legs still trembling in pain.

“No, Mother,” Mistake mumbled, head low and behind her hair. “I don’t.”

Evelyn tattered with laughter. “Goodness you raised a pathetic one. At least it knows its’ place. Morgan's acting out all the time now that school is back in session. When she's a little older, I'm getting her a box-boy and retiring Theodosia.” Theodosia's head snapped up, her hands shaking against her plate. “Hopefully a boy will help with her-” Evelyn gave a vague gesture, abandoning whatever thought she'd had. “Too young still. But in a few years.”

“Of course. Maybe thirteen?” Shannon suggested. “God knows you've had worse age differences.” Shannon gave Evelyn a knowing look and said jokingly. “Got your eye on anyone yet?”

Evelyn’s eyes flickered across the room, grazing past the boxies, spending perhaps a second too long on Mistake than expected.

“Not quite yet,” she said finally. “Really Shannon, a bit silly to be thinking about that, all the trainees currently in the facility will be much older when Morgan is thirteen or fourteen.” The two seemed to be sharing a joke Mistake didn't understand.

They tugged on their curl, trying to force themself to eat the rest of the food on their plate, staring at it miserably. Just looking at it was making it sick. Mistake forced back a gag as they took another bite of food, their stomach aching.

“Permission to speak?” Theodosia asked hesitantly, her voice all but swallowed up. Her hands were still shaking. Evelyn raised an eyebrow but gestured a hand casually.

“Permission granted,” she said, sounding bored. 

“May I go to the bathroom please Ms. Evelyn?” Her voice was shaky. It sounded like she was going to burst into tears.

“Granted. Go.” Evelyn rolled her eyes as Theodosia rushed away. “See that Shannon? My boxies’ emotional support boxie needs an emotional support boxie. How's that for a waste of my money? And she wonders why I'm retiring her soon.”

Mistake had never heard of a boxie being retired before. All the cartoons made it seem like boxies had a forever home once they left the facility.

The question of what that meant gnawed on them curiously, and they could never deny their curiosity.

“Permission to speak, mother?” Mistake asked carefully.

“What is it Mistake?” Shannon sighed as she slipped another piece of her food under the table for Norman.

“What happens when a boxie gets retired?” They asked, the words barreling out faster than they can control them. “Why don’t the cartoons mention it? Is it bad?”

“That's nothing you have to worry about.” Shannon shot a glare at Evelyn. “Really, hardly any boxies get retired, Mistake. If they simply aren't a good fit for a family like Theodosia, the facility will do everything they can to find them a better fit, reeducate them, and ship them there. Theodosia will still be with Evelyn for a few more years until Morgan is older. Why, Evelyn, you and I could convince the Burr family to take her, couldn't we?” Shannon stared at Evelyn. “Doesn't that just sound like a good fit? They've never had a boxie before, and Theodosia is very beginner friendly. She could look after Beatrice. Right, Evelyn?”

Evelyn looked thoroughly annoyed, but she forced a smile. “Of course she is. You’re absolutely right, Shannon, Theodosia would be a perfect fit for the Burrs.” 

“Lovely,” Shannon said with her casual smile. “Anymore questions, Mistake?”

Mistake frowned, a bit disappointed at not getting the question fully answered but overall satisfied with the response. At least then Theodosia could maybe be happy. She loved taking care of children.

“No more questions,” Mistake shook their head. “Thank you mother.” It returned to picking at their food as Theodosia re-entered the room, eyes red and puffy from crying as she sat down. Mistake looked at her sadly. They wished they could make her feel not sad, and tell her she wasn’t going to be retired after all.

Mistake didn’t know who the Burrs were, but at least they’d probably keep Theodosia. They tried to convey this whole message through their eyes when they looked at her, but it suspected she didn’t catch a single thing. Mistake dropped eye contact as they took their final bite of food, their stomach churning as the dinner progressed.

It didn’t take long for them to throw it all back up.

[lesbiancarat]

Shannon (producer under pledis and former pristin member) released a new song "Voicemail" featuring hoshi!

[dustedmagazine]

Mikaela Davis & Circles Around the Sun — After Sunrise (Kill Rock Stars/Jealous Butcher)

Photo by Matthew Reamer

The Grateful Dead cast a long shadow over this free-jamming, fusion-funk collaboration, which sprinkles sparkly harp dust over 1970s synth boogie. Harpist Mikaela Davis is likely best known for her work with Bob Weir. She has also played with Bon Iver and the Punch Brothers and made this lovely alt-country solo album. For its part, Circles Around the Sun came into being when guitarist Neal Casal needed an instrumental band to play incidental music for the Dead-celebrating Fare Thee Well concerts in 2015. Casal died in 2019; John Lee Shannon now plays guitar, while Justin Kreutzmann (son of the Grateful Dead’s Bill Kreutzmann) is on drums.

Given those extensive links, you might expect After Sunrise to lean into a hippie folk good time groove, but while the vibes are sunny, the sounds tap into Tangerine Dream-ish synth prog. “Gloaming Way” starts in pristine, pretty harp figures, a sun-dappled, folk-rooted reverie. However, it’s only about a minute before the aesthetic shifts, a 1970s boogie arising from syncopated guitar and harp, laid atop big blasts of synth. It’s a percolating mix, expertly played but resembling sitcom sound-trackery. “Moonbow” likewise dusts blurting funk with trebly harp star dust, an uneasy meld of porno-thrust and dream sequence. If you like Stanley Clarke’s gleaming, futuristic funk or Emerson Lake & Palmer’s technologically enabled arena rock, you might enjoy this. It’s a little too clean and muzaak-y for me.

The set closes with a long, live performance of “Language,” the title track from Circles Around the Sun’s fourth full-length, which gives you a sense for this band’s loose, vibe-y conjunction of disco groove and intergalactic riot. Davis’ harp careens over pop-locked syncopation, leaving cascading trails of silver on surreal washes of tone. It sure doesn’t sound like the Grateful Dead, more like an instrumental Earth Wind and Fire or “The Hustle” on a lot of acid. Not my bag, but maybe yours.

Jennifer Kelly

[trashyswitch]

Pranks and German Lessons

Henrik is about to start his day at work. But there's one problem: His password is claiming to be incorrect. And he is certain he didn't change his password. So...What's going on? Who's responsible for changing his password?!

This fanfic was suggested by Shannon. I hope you enjoy!

Marvin had ran up to Henrik’s room, and quickly snuck into his office. He closed the door and started to mess with some of the stuff in the room. When he was done, Marvin planted a camera in his room, before leaving the room through the examining room and walking back to the couch to get a good view of all the commotion. 

Marvin pulled out his phone and pulled up the camera screen. The office was sterile, pristine, and perfectly organized. Well, so it looked. Marvin looked up at Henrik as he walked up to his office. 

“Hallo, Marvin.” Henrik said. 

Marvin nodded. “Hey Doc.” Marvin replied. 

Henrik headed into the room and closed the door behind him. Marvin looked at the phone screen and watched as Henrik moved around his room. He opened his computer and put in his username. 

[Username: Henrik-Von-Schneeplestein@brightonhospital.org]

[Password: ***********] 

[PASSWORD INCORRECT] 

Henrik blinked and tilted his head. Did he used caps lock? He looked at his keyboard and saw that the caps lock light wasn’t on. Just to be sure, he clicked the caps lock light on, and then off again. Then, he put in his username and password.

[Password: ***********]

[PASSWORD INCORRECT] 

Henrik grunted and grabbed the sticky note that had his password. And…the username was fine. But the password that was written on his sticky note was crossed out with black sharpie marker. On the back, was a hand-written note in the same sharpie: 

[Try to guess your new password! In the different patient files, are the letters and numbers to your new password. Have fun! ^_~ ]

Henrik audibly growled and threw the sticky note onto the table. “Was für ein Haufen Pferdescheiße!” Henrik yelled. Not only did Marvin change his password and make him find it out for himself, but Marvin had opened up patient files…And that was literally illegal. 

Henrik opened the door to his office and stomped up to Marvin, who was doubled over laughing. “OHO MY GAHAHAD! Your fucking FACE!” Marvin yelled. 

Henrik grabbed Marvin by the ear. “Ich werde dich töten!” Henrik yelled in his native language. 

“Ow-ow-OW! HENRIK-” Marvin yelped, clearly in pain. 

“HALT DEINEN MUND!” Henrik shouted at him as he yanked the magician into his office. “You are going to fix zhis mess, or ELSE.” Henrik threatened, throwing Marvin into his office chair. 

“Oh come on, Shneeple. Can’t you take a joke?!” Marvin asked. 

“BREACHING PEOPLE’S PRIVACY IS NOT A SCHERZ!” Henrik yelled. 

“...Is that joke in german?” Marvin asked. 

Henrik growled even louder at Marvin’s remark. “Youfuckin-” Henrik grabbed his duffle bag, and removed the long over-the-shoulder handle from the duffle bag. He wrapped the handle around the front of Marvin’s waist, and tied the two sides together on the back of the chair. 

“What the- the fuck are you doin’?!” Marvin asked, growing super confused. 

“Making you regret your choices.” Henrik replied as he grabbed Marvin’s legs. 

Marvin raised an eyebrow as he saw Henrik removing his socks. “...A foot massage?” Marvin asked. He guffawed in reaction. “What is a foot massage gonna do?!” Marvin asked. 

Henrik wrapped his one hand around the left ankle, and started to skitter four of his fingers on Marvin’s arch right away. “It is not a foot massage, Marvin.” Henrik told him. 

Marvin gasped right away. “EEK! Wait- NOHO!” He shouted, pulling his right foot back so that Henrik didn’t tickle that foot too. “YoufuckingAHAHASS!” Marvin yelled as he felt Henrik’s fingers move from the arch up to his toes. 

“You gonna tell me vhat my new passvord is?” Henrik asked. 

“NOHOHO WAHAY!” Marvin yelled. He could feel Henrik’s hand move back down to his arch. “Thahat’s for you to fihihind ohout!” Marvin replied as he wiggled his toes to try (and fail) to cover up his ticklish foot.

“Vell, zhen it looks like I vill have to tickle tickle tickle you, until you give me vhat I need. Because I have vork to do.” Henrik told him. 

“Ihihit’ll only take a- GaAAAAHAHAHAHAAAHAHA! NOHOT THERE! NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!” Marvin tried to reach out and cover up his poor foot, but was unable to because of the rope that was wrapped around him. 

Henrik smirked as he mercilessly tickled his heel. “I’ll only tickle harder if you vait.” Henrik told him. 

“EHEHEHEEE! WHYHYHYHYHY?!” Marvin yelled. 

“Because you have made zhis very inconvenient for me.” Henrik told him. 

“IHIHIT’S A JOHOKE! TAHAHAKE A JOKE!” Marvin yelled. 

Henrik moved his hand up to the sole of his foot. “Now is not zhe time for zhe funnies.” Henrik told him. 

Marvin’s laughter lessened a little bit. “Ohokahahay. Fihihine! Ihi’ll tell you whahahat the pahahassword for your compuhuhuter ihihis.” Marvin finally replied. 

Henrik smiled and stopped tickling. “Good.” He let Marvin breathe for a moment. 

Marvin took the time to fill his lungs generously with air. Though he hadn’t been tickled for very long, he was already a little bit tired. “It’s…” Marvin started. He let out another breath. “The password is ‘Hellohenrik456.” Marvin told him. 

Henrik raised an eyebrow, but nodded and put the password in. 

[Password: hellohenrik456] 

[PASSWORD INCORRECT] 

Henrik hummed and looked at Marvin. “Any capitals?” Henrik asked. 

A capital H at the beginning.” Marvin told him. 

He typed in the password with a capital letter this time. 

[Password: Hellohenrik456] 

It started to load…Then, his familiar portal started to display itself onto his screen. Henrik smiled and then went to settings, and changed his password back to what it was before. “Zhank you, Marvin.” Henrik told him. “Now:” He minused out of his program and walked up to Marvin again. “I am not quite finished vizh you yet.” Henrik told him. 

Marvin widened his eyes. “Wait, what?! Why?!” Marvin asked, wiggling around. 

“Because I still need to make sure you do not prank me to zhis level again.” Henrik told him. “Simple zhings like svitching salt for sugar, or putting kleenex in my shoes is fine.” Henrik told him as he walked up behind the chair. “But changing zhe password to my vork computer?” Henrik grabbed Marvin’s sides with a smirk. “Utterly unacceptable.” Henrik told him. 

“Wait- Yohou dohohon’t uhuse that wohohord in thahat cohohontehehext!” Marvin reacted. 

“Vhy not?! What are you? Die grammatikpolizei?!” Henrik asked. 

“WHAHAT ARE YOU SAYIHIHING?!” Marvin yelled. “SPEAK ENGLIHIHISH PLEHEHEASE!” Marvin begged. 

Henrik just laughed. “Hehehe! Fick dich!” Henrik declared back with a smirk. 

Marvin couldn’t understand what a dich was…but he could somewhat understand the moment he guessed what fick likely meant. “Dihihid yohou juhust tehehell mehe to fuhuhuck ohoff?” Marvin asked him. 

“Nein. I specifically said zhe vords ‘Fuck you’.” Henrik told him. 

“Wohohow.” Marvin muttered. 

“Now how ticklish is zhis belly of yours?” Henrik brought himself to the right side of the chair, and lifted up Marvin’s blue shirt. “I have heard from a leetle bird that your belly is a good spot to go for.” Henrik asked as he slowly started to tickle right around the magician’s belly button. 

“Wahahait- NOHOHOHAHAHAHAHA! AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHA STOHOHOHOHOP!” Marvin shouted, kicking his legs wildly as he wiggled back and forth in an attempt to get out of the chair. “LEHEHET MEHE GOOOHOHOHOHOOO!” Marvin shouted. 

“Let you go? But vhy vould I do zhat?” Henrik asked. 

“BEHEHECAUSE YOU LOHOHOHOVE MEHEHE?!” Marvin asked. 

“Platonically? Or intimately~?” Henrik asked as he leaned into Marvin’s face with a smug little grin on his own face. 

Marvin’s face morphed into a bright red color almost immediately after hearing those words. Feeling a pair of eyes on him, Marvin opened his one eye. Quickly, he opened both his eyes and widened them once he realized how close Henrik was to his face. He immediately pushed Henrik’s face away from his own. “Shuhuhut uhuhup! Ihihi meheant platohohonicallyhyhyhy!” Marvin told him, covering up his face with his own hands. 

Henrik stuck out his bottom lip and looked down dramatically. “Aww…Shame.” Henrik whined, before dropping his facade with another smug grin. 

Marvin split his index and middle apart from each other to look out his left eye, so he could see what Henrik was doing. When he saw the doctor was smirking at him, Marvin whimpered as he covered up his left eye again and grew very timid. 

Henrik chuckled and removed his hand from the exposed belly. Marvin kept his eyes and face covered, hoping Henrik would leave him alone to melt into his seat like lukewarm ice cream. But when nothing else had happened for the next few seconds, Marvin uncovered his left eye again. 

“Uhhh…Hello-” 

Marvin SCREECHED and just about jumped 10 feet in the air! SPIDER! SPIDer- 

Henrik fell onto his back with laughter, pretty much rolling around with fits of laughter. “OHOHO MYHY GAHAD YOU’RE SOHOHO TIHICKLIHIHISH!” Henrik yelled. 

Marvin stared at him in disbelief…before embarrassed and slightly angry. He kicked Henrik’s chest with his heel and growled. “Leave my feet alone, ya fuckin’ weirdo.” Marvin told him. 

“Alright, alright. I vill leave you alone.” Henrik told him. “But only if you promise to not change my passvord again.” Henrik decided. 

“...But-” 

“No buts! Versprechen oder kein Versprechen.” Henrik told him. 

Marvin raised an eyebrow. “...and that means…?” 

Henrik sighed. “Promise, or no promise.” Henrik told him. “Jésus Chrístus. You need to learn German.” Henrik reacted. 

“Do I now?” Marvin asked. “Or do you need to practice your englisch?” Marvin asked, specifically impersonating Henrik’s pronunciation of the word ‘english’. 

Henrik rolled his eyes. “First of all: German is pronounced as ‘Deutsch’.” Henrik told him. 

“Oh! Yeah, I remember you mentioning the words ‘Deutschland’ often when I first met you. Does that just mean German land?” Marvin asked. 

Henrik closed his eyes and huffed. “Nein. Deutschland only means Germany.” Henrik told him. “Yust like Yapan is called Nihon.” Henrik added. 

“...Yeah, I guess.” Marvin muttered. “Alright. Deutschland! I speak the Deutschland language.” Marvin joked. 

Henrik couldn’t stop himself from chuckling in horror. “Verdammte Hölle…You are killing me vizh your vords and pronunciation.” Henrik told him. “Zhat is like saying ‘I speak the england language’.” Henrik told him. 

Marvin laughed. “Really? Cause English actually comes from-” 

“Latin. Ya, I know. And Deutsch is from zhe Indo-European people. The Indo-European people have multiple versions of zhe same language, one being zhe Germanic people, who spread from Norway and Sweden, to zhe Slovenian border.” Henrik told him. “Zhere vere even Deutsch people in zhe scotland and English- 

Henrik squealed in a girly high pitch voice, interrupting himself in the process before doubling over. “BAHAAAHAhahahahaha! VAHAHAIT- VHAHAHAT AHARE YOU DOHOHOIHIHING?!” Henrik yelled, trying to push the tickling fingers off of himself. “HOHOW DIHIHID YOU GEHEHET OHOHOUT?!” Henrik yelled. 

“I wiggled myself out while you were rambling on and on about the origin of Germany.” Marvin told him. “Now tell me, oh wise Deutsch: What is ‘tickle’ in German?” Marvin asked as he gently skittered and squeezed his ribs. 

“IHIHI’M NOT TELLIHIHING YOHOHOU!” Henrik yelled back. 

“Come ooooon. You sounded so excited about teaching me German! Or Deutsch, I guess. What’s ‘tickle’ in Deutsch?” Marvin asked as he severely lessened his tickling for a moment. 

Henrik’s laughter lessened to small bouts of giggles. “Ihihit’s…uhuhuh…k-kihitzeln. Kitzeln. Ihihit’s kihihitzeheheln.” Henrik repeated. 

Marvin giggled. “Kitzeln. That’s the noun, right? What’s the verb?” Marvin asked next. 

“Ihihihit’s kihitzehehelt. Kihitzelt.” Henrik replied.

Marvin smirked evilly upon being fed this wonderful information. “So does the phrase ‘Kitzelt, kitzelt, kitzelt’ make sense in Deutsch?” Marvin asked with a shit-eating grin. 

Henrik verbally groaned. “Nohohohoho. Dohohon’t sahahay zhahahat!” Henrik complained. 

“So I’m right! Kitzelt, kitzelt, kitzelt! Kitzelt, kitzelt, kitzelt!” Marvin teased as he started tickling faster and faster. 

“HaltdeineFresse! HALTDEIHIHINEFREHEHEHEHESSE!” Henrik yelled. “HAAAAALT! BITTE HÖHÖHÖR AHAHAHAUF! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Henrik kept yelling and laughing, weakly punching Marvin with his petty little hands. 

After a couple more minutes, Marvin stopped his wild revenge game. He placed Henrik onto the chair, quickly removing the bag handle that was holding him down right before sitting Henrik down properly. He filled up Henrik’s dried coffee mug with some water from his own water bottle, letting Henrik drink while he grabbed the camera that was still recording. 

Henrik hummed and removed his mug from his lips. “Vhat’s zhat?” Henrik asked. 

Marvin couldn’t stop the smirk from growing onto his face. “Noooothing…” Marvin teased. “...Except for a camera that I used to record your reaction…” Marvin finally confessed. 

Henrik widened his eyes…and opened his mouth, forgetting about the water in his mouth. All the water in his mouth quickly started spilling out of his mouth like a waterfall…Then, Henrik wiped off his chin and slammed the mug onto the ground. “Fünf…” Henrik started. 

“Hahaha! Is that Deutsch for ‘Fuck’?” Marvin asked. 

“Fünf is a number.” Henrik said. “Fünf…” 

“Number? Wh- Oh shit you’re counting.” Marvin muttered with a surge of panic running through his veins. 

“Vier…” Henrik said. 

“Shit shit shiT SHIT SHIT!” Marvin shouted. 

“Drei…” Henrik counted next. 

“Oh fuck OH FUCK UH- BYE!” Marvin sprinted towards the door, before crashing into the closed white door. “OW!” 

“Zwei…” Henrik said, before taking a step. 

Marvin gasped and heaved on the doorknob. “FUCK!” 

“EINER!” Henrik sprinted up to Marvin and grabbed his shoulders. He threw Marvin to the ground, before tickling him mercilessly. The camera flew absolutely everywhere, before being flung onto the ground nearby. All you could see was the wall…but Marvin’s strong laughter could tell you everything you needed to know:

That you should NEVER prank Dr. Schneeplestein. 

[daisychainsandbowties]

10 17 22 idk if you've done those I'm illiterate

10. Has a piece of writing ever "haunted" you? has your own writing haunted you? what does that mean to you?

EM. YOU. yourself. come over here and ask if i am haunted?? yes, every day, by the image of shannon slipping mary's motorcycle helmet off her head. this:

"then she steps forward and removes Mary's helmet with careful hands and Beatrice has never felt more a voyeur in her life than when she watches Sister Shannon dab the blood from Mary's split lip with the pad of her thumb. Watches Mary bat her hand away, her eyes rolling, "I'm fucking fine" and "Language" a practiced one two punch" ~ tmtl ch. 1

and this:

"Lilith shudders at her touch, makes a mournful sound, then comes awake in an instant.... Beatrice withdraws, sits for a moment on the edge of Lilith's bed before rising. Lilith's melodramatic groan of relief makes her tempted to drop back down, to curl up alongside her and try to pick the pieces out of her, to reassemble them and form an image that's whole, but she resists. All the better to let sleeping Liliths lie."

~ tmtl ch. 3

i terms of other things i think the book of the outsider trilogy by Mark Lawrence is quite haunting, as a story. i find a lot of the poetry i read very haunting. but mostly it is lines like those above - moments of absolute intimacy shadowed by restraint. that line from harrow the ninth that goes "you were so afraid she might touch you. you were so afraid anyone might touch you. you had always been afraid of anyone touching you, and had not known your longing flinch was so obvious to those who tried."

my own writing... sometimes. when i write about sickness, certainly. that feels haunting. but mostly my own writing is when i let the ghosts fly out of the window.

17. talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. tell me about the lore, the history, the things that won't make it in the text.

as you well know i have about eight WIPs. but my actual novel really actually resonates with that very popular line from, again, tasmuir "love is too long and life is too short" but ah... kind of flipped. what happens when the life goes on and the love is there but not the beloved? the story started there, moved onto a dragon with a clockwork heart and a boy and the colour purple, of a very empty landscape and the very loud dead. naturally i have spider-people and none of my characters have bodies without a bit or the horrific or the angelic crammed into them (often both). the lore is a lot, but the story is about gods and spitting in the face of fate. it has Monster Hunter vibes and also a bit of Cormac McCarthy's the road (vast emptiness. two bodies inside it). it has all the things i like - horror and blood and intimacy. but yeah, the lore doc is a chonky boi.

22. how organised are you with your writing? describe to me your organisation method, if it exists.

my entire process involves the notes app on my phone and like three documents all called the same thing except lore 1, lore 2, lore 3 where i dump vomited-up fragments of sentences and half-baked ideas and then occasionally a 8000 word dump of pristine lore. i plot only inside my own brain. my masters thesis supervisor had to cut me open to get a plot outline from inside me, and it was all lies anyway. i am more of a character writer than a plot-specialist, but i feel like once i have My Guys and A Problem the story pretty much writes itself (and i'm so wrong about that). mostly i outline in my brain and then by writing random lines from the start, the midish, and the kind-of-end, and then i do linguistic gymnastics to reach those sentences. (and boy am i clumsy)

i type everything. writing with pen + paper is still not my favourite thing to do - still slow and a bit painful - so i prefer to type. i have calluses, in fact, from typing, which is really quite embarrassing.

[fitz-avery-vacker]

Decided to post another Keefe POV fic.

I wiped off the top of the box with the back of my hand gently, surprised at the dust that had collected along my skin. Things aren’t normally dusty in my house. My parents like keeping things pristine and clean and shiny and whatnot. 

Apparently not this box. Or whatever was inside. I’d been sent to go ‘fetch it’ (playful use of vocabulary, Mom, thanks) from the 12th floor. Surprisingly low. That’s where they normally shove stuff they’re never gonna use, but I’m normally not allowed on that floor either. Doesn’t mean I haven’t had my fair share of peeks from time to time. 

The box was decently heavy, and cold though that’s a given due to it existing in my house. Aside from that, it was normal. So I hefted it up pretty well despite my very scrawny child body, and returned upstairs to my parents. 

My father scoffed as I walked into the room, sitting up from his chair and standing. Not a hair was out of place, which just heightened my urge to mess it up. He approached me, telekinetically lifting the box out of my hands and setting it aside. He looked down at me, a disappointed scowl set on his face. 

“You’ve got dust all over your clothes,” he said, “whatever will I do with you.” He shook his head and tutted, obviously disappointed with my appearance. He always was. He began to fuss over my clothes, pointing out every small detail that wasn’t as prim and proper as he wanted. Which happened to be every fiber of my being. 

After what felt like my ears were going pointy with age, he reclined and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“It’s not good, but it’ll have to do. Help your mother with the decorations.” he demanded, gesturing with his hand to the boxes Mom seemed to be drowning in. I approached a bit too eagerly, and she tutted. 

“Control yourself just for a little while, Keefe. Honestly, you must start showing more self restraint before your term begins.” she scolded. I knew what she meant and immediately obeyed, stiffening my body so I wouldn’t move as excitedly as I did before. The Foxfire term began in a few months, and I’d been counting down the days. Anything to get out of this stupid tower. 

“Help me hang up the globes, will you?” she asked, flawlessly using telekinesis to lift a glass sphere out of its box and hanging it on the wall. 

I tried doing the same, but my telekinesis wasn’t strong yet. But I still tried. I cupped my hands underneath it just in case it fell. It wavered in the air but it held strong. I could feel all eyes in the room on me, and heard the scoff from behind my back as my dad disapproved of my lack of control. 

The only surprise I had about this situation was underestimating how close my dad was. I could hear his scoff right in my ear, and it startled me. I flinched, losing my telekinetic hold over the sphere and dropping it. 

It shattered at my feet, the glass shards scattering across the floor as the orb broke.

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

 LET'S GET FORSAKEN!  Soul of the Forsaken by Brenda Trim and Tia Didmon is now live on Amazon and available in KindleUnlimited!!

Universal: https://geni.us/SoulForsaken

A deranged demigod. An unexpected ally. A fatal choice. When I am called to Harmonia Grove by the leader of the Apollonians, we find the once pristine land is wrought with disease and its people are not faring much better. We search for the source of the decay and the madness afflicting the once-peaceful people, but Miletus circumvents our efforts at every turn. To have a chance at saving his people, we have to convince Apollo it's time to leave our realm. But how many people have to die before a god turns against his own son? Find out what lurks in the shadows of Ravenholde by reading Soul of the Forsaken, the new Paranormal Women's Fiction series readers are comparing to Shannon Mayer, K.F. Breene, and Victoria Dannan. One click to continue this Magical Midlife adventure now!

About The Authors

A USA Today bestselling author, Brenda loves everything paranormal. She has co-authored over twenty-five books in the best-selling Dark Warrior Alliance series, as well as the Hollow Rock Shifters series. She also has best-selling solo titles readers are raving about. Brenda created worlds that feature dangerously handsome heroes and feisty heroines. With the help of popcorn and candy, she takes dragons, fairies, witches, vampires, and so much more and brings them to life. She lives in Texas with her husband and three kids who fuel not only her heart but her life. If she's not writing, she's reading, traveling, or knee-deep in projects with her husband and five sisters. She encourages readers to Dream Big. If your dreams don't terrify and electrify you then they aren't big enough!  

Tia Didmon is a USA Today bestselling author of provocative paranormal romance. When Tia isn't busy writing about sexy shifters and dreamy demons, she spends her time binge watching The Order and reruns of The Vampire Diaries, cooking with her daughter, and serving her cat. Her love of writing stems from a self-diagnosed book addiction.  Subscribe to Tia's newsletter at tiadidmon.com for a free book and start your journey through Tia's supernatural world today!  Find Them Both Online! https://www.brendatrim.com https://tiadidmon.com

[landleader]

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[9823678]

♪Bad Bxxches Drink - Shannon bae

[chuuuvi]

Cyn’s Top 10 Kpop B-sides of 2023!

The sequel no one asked for but I couldn’t help myself. I love ranking things!

10. Melting Point by ZB1 - It basically interpolates Hush by Miss A which is just absolutely iconic. I applaud them for that. Keeping 2nd gen kpop alive. It’s a great song. I’m going to be telling you that with every one of these explanations lol. I love how it’s so light and fluffy sounding but then the chorus comes in so hard only to go back to the sweet sounding “touch touch blush blush” post-chorus.

9. Wonderland by TRI.BE - Ya’ll are sleeping on these girls! To be fair though so was I. I only knew them for that blow a little blow a little kissss song but I learned this year that they’re one of those groups with really good b-sides. I was so sad when I realized that In The Air (777) came out in 2022 instead of 2023 bc it was going to top this list. Instead though we have Wonderland which is almost as good! It’s just a super fun poppy song and the english version is great too.

8. Blue Wave by NCT Dream - This song is so easy breezy wonderful. It’s light and refreshing. Random comparison but it reminds me of that snapple rain drink? Have y’all had those? They taste like what this song sounds like to me. Lol I should rank my gas station beverage picks next. Got a little sidetracked there but yeah I love this song!

7. Eve, Psyche, & The Bluebeard’s Wife by Lesserafim - Absolutely iconic. Theres a reason this song got like a thousand remixes. Theres a reason it went viral! It’s really really good! I don’t know how to explain why it just slays. It’s cunty as the kids say. I will in fact be getting it like boom boom boom.

6. Tape by Kep1er - Potentially the most Kep1er-y sounding song they’ve ever made despite the fact that it’s a subunit song. Like it’s just the perfect encapsulation of their charm. It’s fun and quirky and catchy and I love it. One of my favorite songs for walking around campus. It just puts me in a good mood!

5. Next Page by IVE - I don’t have any complicated reason for liked this so much. It’s just a pretty and sweet sounding song! The chorus is so cute!! Baby, 난 이 다음이, 다음이 궁금 해 Oh, I love you so, l love you so ♡♡

4. Enhanced Flower by tripleS EVOLution - I admit this is a weird one to put so high because its more of an outro than anything. I love the atmosphere of the song though. It’s so peaceful and dreamy but also vaguely menacing? It’s just so captivating to listen to. Also I was pleasantly surprised to find out that Bae Shannon (Sungyeon of Pristin) has a writing and composing credit! Of course the song she worked on would be my favorite. Once a HIgh always a HIgh ^_^

3. Will I Ever See You Again by Red Velvet - I loved this song from the first moment. That little piano part is so lovely and then when it came back in the chorus with the synths I ascended! The vocals are insane too! The whole thing is so beautiful. It manages to feel gentle and dreamy but it also has so much forward momentum the whole way through.

2. Here We Go Again by JINI - Imma be honest I don’t stan NMIXX so I had no familiarity with Jini before this. I was drawn in though by the badass album title (An Iron Hand In A Velvet Glove) and ended up absolutely loving this solo debut. I really would have made HWGA the title track though. The lyrics are so perfect for her situation, like it’s practically a song about her redebut after leaving her former group. It’s almost too on the nose but I love that! Plus it’s just super fun and punchy and danceable.

1. Back To The City by Kep1er - I’m so glad that people are giving this song attention now because I knew as soon as I heard it that was THE Kep1er song. When they disband this is the one we’ll be crying to. (Well this one and tOgether fOrever and I’ll be getting emotional to Daisy too.. okay so lots of tears lol). This song is just nostalgic feeling. It feels like running in a field catching fireflies with your best friends. Just pure innocent joy.

Also heres a tangent, despite the fact that she has like 3 lines, back to the city BELONGS to Yujin in my book. She brings such earnest emotion into every performance. The fancam of her dancing to it with a big smile and visible TEARS in her eyes?! I love her so much T-T

Honorable Mentions Time!! - Lemonade by BBGIRLS (formerly Brave Girls), Kill Shot by Itzy, nevertheless by Billlie, agit by Purple Kiss, Cool As by KEY, The Feeling by Shinee, New Jeans by New Jeans, Touch by tripleS, New Kidz On The Block by ZB1, Ludid by Odd Eye Circle, Addicted by Heejin, Newtopia by Loosemble, Attitude by fromis_9, Chaconne by Enhypen

[chauffeurservicesdublin]

Finding Serenity at Sea: A Photographic Journey Along the Wild Atlantic Way to the Cliffs of Moher

Embarking on a Cliffs of Moher tour from Galway is more than a mere excursion; it's a voyage into the heart of Ireland's natural grandeur. The journey begins in the vibrant city of Galway, known for its rich history and lively cultural scene, and soon unfolds into a panoramic drive along the Wild Atlantic Way – a route that is as dramatic as it is beautiful.

The untamed and rocky landscapes of the Irish west coast welcome visitors as they depart the hustle and bustle of the city. The road meanders, offering glimpses of the Atlantic Ocean, its waves dancing in the sunlight or thundering against the cliffs, depending on the whims of the weather.

The photographic opportunities along this journey are endless. Each turn in the road presents a new vista: rolling green hills dotted with sheep, ancient stone walls dividing the landscape, and quaint villages where time seems to stand still. The play of light and shadow over these scenes creates a tapestry of images that are as captivating as they are serene.

As the tour approaches the Cliffs of Moher, the anticipation builds. These cliffs are one of Ireland's most spectacular sights, standing tall and majestic against the might of the Atlantic. Photographers will find themselves in awe of the sheer scale and beauty of this natural wonder. The cliffs stretch for 8 kilometers and rise to over 700 feet at their highest point, offering a view that is both breathtaking and humbling.

The experience of viewing the Cliffs of Moher is deeply moving. The vastness of the ocean, the strength of the cliffs standing resolute against time and tide, and the wind – always the wind – weaving its way through every moment, create a sense of connection to something greater than oneself. Here, one can truly feel the pulse of the earth and the whisper of history in the breeze.

A Cliffs of Moher tour from Galway isn't just about the destination; it's about the journey. It's about the small, hidden beaches and coves that beckon along the way, the local wildlife that occasionally makes an appearance – a playful seal or a majestic falcon – and the charming Irish towns that offer warm hospitality and a chance to experience local culture and cuisine.

For the photographer, whether amateur or professional, this journey is a treasure trove of moments waiting to be captured. From the vibrant colors of Galway City to the ethereal beauty of the Cliffs of Moher bathed in the golden light of sunset, each picture tells a story of Ireland's wild heart.

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A photographic journey along the Wild Atlantic Way to the Cliffs of Moher is more than just a trip. It's an exploration of tranquility and beauty, a chance to connect with nature in its most pristine form, and an opportunity to capture memories that will last a lifetime. This is not just a tour; it's an experience that enriches the soul and leaves one with a profound sense of peace and wonder.

Source: https://www.dmexecutiveline.ie/photographic-journey-to-the-cliffs-of-smoher/

[lesbiancarat]

also Shannon (former pristin member, current pledis producer) helped compose and write lyrics for oh mymy : 7s!