#relic recollection

[choidaisy]

where mingyu finds memories of his first girlfriend and decides to send her a message upon realizing she is nearby (part 1)

Part 2 here

words: 1,892 warnings: not many, just mingyu feeling nostalgic and regretful about past choices a/n: i think im a bit sad after writing this, i wish i could hug mingyu

Upon awakening at dawn, Mingyu felt an unexpected urge to revisit the past. The day promised to be busy with a looming show, but he decided to dedicate some time to organizing dusty relics that had rested for years in his closet.

As he pulled boxes from the dark hideaway, one of them caught his attention in a peculiar way. "I didn't even remember you were here," he chuckled, releasing a sigh of nostalgia. He sat on the floor, unraveling the treasures buried in layers of memories.

The lid of the box, when lifted, unleashed a specter from the past. Photographs, yellowed and blurred as if the previous decade had wrapped them in a nostalgic veil. Mingyu held one of them, observing with eyes that absorbed every detail. A smile, immortalized on paper, evoked long-dormant emotions.

Among the relics, a crumpled and aged letter captured his attention. The faded ink gave the words a melancholic tone, as if time itself had intertwined them with sadness. Unfolding it, Mingyu encountered handwritten messages, a distant voice echoing through the lines on paper.

Each item taken from the box told a story from ten years ago, a time when the world seemed simpler, and smiles came more easily. The room, once bathed in morning light, transformed into a theater of shadows and longing, where the silent echo of the past filled every corner.

Mingyu, sitting on the floor, embraced his memories as if holding a part of himself that had been left behind. The clock on the wall, like a silent witness, marked the present, but the open box cast a bridge to a persistent past.

Thus, he spent the morning immersed in the melancholy of recollections from a decade ago, a journey through time that left scars on the fabric of his soul, like indelible marks of a sad song echoing beyond the decades.

Mingyu's gaze lifted towards the ceiling as a specific photograph emerged from his memories. He closed his eyes, leaning against the wall. The image captured a moment of genuine laughter between him and Y/N, an instant immortalized where worries were forgotten in the face of her amusing words. A bittersweet smile illuminated his face, contrasting with the frozen joy in the photo.

Mingyu's mind traveled back in time, recalling how Y/N had the gift of eliciting laughter from him at every turn. Nostalgia enveloped him like a mist, and he found himself smiling in a different way than that depicted in that old picture.

"How must she be these days?" he questioned amidst the shadows of the past. He decided to explore the virtual world in the hope of finding traces of her life. He opened Instagram, typing her name in the search bar with a tentative expectation.

And there she was. Y/N's account, though not abundant in photos, revealed the path she had taken over the years. Mingyu scrolled through the images, witnessing fragments of a distant life. She had grown, distancing herself from the scene they once shared.

The photographs told silent stories of adventures and growth, of laughter that now echoed elsewhere. Mingyu, lost in the visual narrative, felt the distance that time had imposed between them. A sigh escaped, echoing in the quietness of the room as he absorbed the metamorphosis of the one who had once been the constant source of his joy.

He opened photo after photo, immersing himself in the visual narratives that composed Y/N's life. He read comment after comment, each word resonating like a melancholic melody that transported him to a time that no longer existed. "Damn, why am I doing this to myself?" he wondered, a storm of emotions churning within him. On impulse, he turned off his phone screen, trying to distance himself from those bittersweet memories.

He closed the virtual box that was her profile, and with a heavy sigh, he promised himself that it was time to close this chapter of the past. The day progressed slowly, each second feeling like an additional weight on his shoulders. Mingyu became entangled in the whirlwind of emotions, struggling to find a peace that seemed elusive.

When night settled and the show in Seoul finally came to an end, Mingyu remained backstage, the energy of the stage still pulsating in his veins. A persistent intuition whispered in his ear, urging him to reopen her profile. A mixture of curiosity and self-destruction led him to succumb to the silent call.

The screen lit up again, revealing Y/N's world in a way he couldn't avoid. The past resurfaced in digital colors, the photographs a window to a time he thought he had left behind. Mingyu found himself scrolling through the images, a roller coaster of emotions sweeping over him as the silent backstage of the show became the backdrop for a personal drama unfolding before the cold glow of the screen.

Y/N had posted a story, an update that hadn't existed before. Mingyu took a deep breath, feeling his heartbeat quicken as he embraced all the risks of being caught snooping on her social media. "What the fuck is this?" he exclaimed, the intensity of his voice echoing and surprising those around him.

"What's going on, Mingyu?" Wonwoo asked, showing surprise at the sudden reaction.

"Oh... sorry, guys," Mingyu stammered, distancing himself from the group still stunned by what he had just discovered.

Sitting on a bench, disbelief written on his face, Mingyu fixed his gaze on the phone. "Y/N, are you here? Were you watching our show?" he whispered to himself, as if uttering the words made the situation more tangible.

Without giving himself much time to think, Mingyu decided to respond to the story. "You here?" he added a shy emoji, a mix of surprise and anticipation that shone through the typed words.

The night stretched on, a tapestry of anticipation woven with threads of uncertainty. Mingyu, immersed in the anticipation of a response that felt surreal, watched the hours drag on. Before heading home, he joined the other band members, sharing a few glasses of beer in a ritual that would normally be synonymous with relaxation and laughter. However, his mind was elsewhere, more focused on his phone than the lively conversation permeating the table.

Even amid laughter and toasts, Mingyu was shrouded in a cloud of thoughts, lost in his own reflections. Tension hung over him as his eyes occasionally drifted to the device, eager for a notification that had yet to arrive.

It was then that Mingyu made an unusual decision. He was the first to say goodbye, breaking the tradition of staying until the end. The night continued for the others, but for him, the journey back home was marked by a heavy silence and an anticipation that stretched beyond the visible night horizon.

It was around six in the morning, and Mingyu was still tossing and turning in bed, desperately trying to fall asleep when a notification flashed on his phone. "Mingyu...?"

She had finally responded. Without thinking much, he initiated a voice call right there, in the Instagram direct messages chat.

"Oh... Mingyu. Is everything okay?" She answered with a cautious voice, a tone laden with surprise and concern.

"Hm, hey Y/N, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called, I just..."

"Did something happen?"

"I just... thought about you all day... I'm sorry." He scratched his head, words coming out in a thread, his voice choked with emotion, an echo of the restlessness consuming him.

"Are you drunk? Your voice sounds (pause) weird (pause) and it's like six in the morning..."

"No, I'm not drunk... I'm sorry, Y/N. I'll hang up, I shouldn't have done this." There was a tense pause, a contained sigh in his voice, echoing regret. The girl on the other end of the line sensed the vulnerability in every word, the complexity of what was unfolding in this unexpected conversation.

"No, Mingyu... Stay on the line, I'm just surprised... It's been so long since we last talked. I thought it might be an emergency or something."

"Yea, quite a while... Almost ten years?"

"Something like that... How are you? Did you have to wake up early today?"

"Oh... actually, I haven't been able to sleep yet..." A pause to take a deep breath. "And you, why are you up early?"

"I'm at the airport, heading back home..."

"Oh, so you didn't move back to Korea?" Sadness echoed in his voice as he verbalized the realization.

"No, just passing through..."

"Ah... I was really surprised when I saw you were watching my show."

"My niece is a big Seventeen fan," she explained.

"Daennie?" That's how he used to call little Shin Dae years ago. "God, she was a little kid... She's, like, twelve now?" The question arose gently, an attempt to map the years that had slipped away, even though distance had kept them apart.

"Yea" she laughed from the other side of the screen. "She's almost my height now."

"That's crazy..."

"Yea, time flew by... Mingyu, how did you find my Instagram?"

"Oh, about that... I stumbled upon a photo of us yesterday morning... I got curious about you and looked you up... Don't think I'm a stalker or anything."

She laughed on the other side of the screen, a gentle laugh hovering between nostalgia and the present.

"Y/N, I miss you, you have no idea how much..." he confessed. "You know, you'll always be my first girlfriend, my first love... I regret my decision so much."

"Mingyu, you didn't decide alone, it was the wisest choice. You know that."

"Honestly, I don't know if it was worth it."

"How not? You're living your biggest dream."

"But you're not here with me..." The last sentence slipped out like a sigh, heavy with a lament that echoed between the words, outlining a wound that time hadn't completely healed.

"Mingyu, don't do this." She heard him let out the sound of a sniffle. "Mingyu? Are you crying?"

"I'm sorry for saying these things, Y/N... I just wish I could go back in time and make different choices; I would have found a way to make both things work well."

"You would have regretted it, Mingyu. Look at how you're a star now."

"I regretted the same way."

"Mingyu, listen to me... We were very happy together, but our story happened at the wrong time. We were young, but we had an important choice. We did the right thing." She paused. "We grew up well."

"And will our story ever happen at the right time?"

"I don't have the answer to your question." Her response hung in the air, a sincere confession that floated between the uncertainty of the future and the certainty of the past. Silence became a delicate bridge between two hearts that, even at a distance, still shared an intertwined story.

"Y/N, I always thought I couldn't have you, that you're someone I should forget, but..." He was interrupted by the girl who spoke hastily.

"Mingyu, I need to hang up; I'm boarding now... we'll talk later."

"I wanted you to know that..." The call ended. "I still love you." Mingyu murmured to the silence of the phone, the words lingering in the void like an unspoken sigh, while the sound of farewell echoed in the distance between them.

Part 2 maybe? let me know :)

#svt fanfic #svt imagines #seventeen #svt #svt fluff #svt x reader #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x you #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios #mingyu fic #mingyu imagines

[fortunatelyenchantingtaco]

2.1 spoilers!!!!

Listen i will probably soon calm down again but its so fucking insane to me how badly literally everyone treats Aventurine but they want him on their side all the same

For IPC he is still a slave but they gave him a stone thats one of the relics of Qlipoth, the Tavern has sent him an invitation, fucking Sunday straight up mind controlled him into “either you die or become part of the family” and its so insane

Literally all of rhem disctiminate him on account of his birthplanet and his past but he’s also smart and skilled and lucky to have survived and gotten this far so they want him to themselves. Even the Nameless and the Garden of Recollection goes “he’s fucking weird but too useful”. I cannot with this man. Someone fucking give him a break

#hsr spoilers #hsr dr ratio #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail

[monk-of-figaro]

Indirect Storytelling

@tayasigerson's recent (and amazing!) art of Sabin and Gau with Tiger Masks got me thinking about ways in which games can offer means of indirect storytelling that standard literature cannot.

I'm no expert on linguistics or the English language, so maybe "indirect storytelling" isn't the proper term. Or maybe I'm wrong about my assertion in the first place. But to me, the fact that only Sabin and Gau can equip the Tiger Mask feels like there's a character trait that is implied but never stated.

Why is it that only Sabin and Gau can equip the Tiger Mask? What is the commonality between the two that nobody else shares? What does this imply about their characters?

I have my own theories, of course - thoughts about how they both embody the idea of "wildness", both literally and figuratively; or maybe how they each have a connection to "nature" that is stronger than other party members; or maybe even their connection to each other has something to do with it - but the fact that something as simple as who can equip an item can be used to hint at character or plot elements is pretty wild, isn't it?

The Tiger Mask isn't even the only example of this in FF6. Probably the most famous example is the Memento Ring, which can only be equipped by Shadow and Relm, and to my immediate recollection is the only direct connection they share in-game. Everything else about their relationship is implied through Shadow's flashbacks (which only connect them by showing he was in Thamasa with a dog at some point in the past) and through Interceptor's uncharacteristic affection for Relm.

Because Shadow and Relm are not shown to have any real relation or connection, and in fact speak probably less than a dozen words to each other the entire game, the fact that this seemingly-random pair are the only ones who can equip the Memento Ring is really special (and easily missable). If everyone could equip the Memento Ring, it would lose its specialness, and we'd lose a key aspect of the Shadow/Relm backstory.

The Memento Ring also adds additional context by its description:

Ring blessed by departed mother's love. Prevents petrification, zombie, and instant death.

Most Relics in FF6 don't have as much lore behind them as something imbued with a "departed mother's love", so the fact that only Shadow and Relm can equip this strongly implies they each have a connection to this "departed mother". There are even fanfics (like this amazing one from @azurefishnets - A Nameless Memento) that use the Memento Ring directly as a plot element for the Shadow/Relm/Strago dynamic.

A third implication can be drawn from the fact that the Memento Ring prevents all instant-death techniques. Why is that? How and why does a departed mother's love protect against instant-death? What does that imply about the mother's own death?

In addition to the Memento Ring and the Tiger Mask, there are other items that can only be equipped by specific people. Here are a few choice examples:

Royal Crown (Edgar, Sabin)

Red Jacket (Edgar, Sabin)

Snow Scarf (Gau, Mog, Umaro)

All the "Suit" costumes, like the Moogle Suit (Strago, Relm)

Some of those make some sense - like the Royal Crown - but others are kind of open to interpretation. Maybe it makes sense that Mog and Umaro can equip the Snow Scarf, but why can Gau, and why can't anyone else?

What about the Red Jacket? Does that have some connection to royalty, or is there something else being hinted at? After all, red is not one of the Figaroan colors; it's the opposite of blue, which actually is one of the Figaroan colors. And why does it negate fire damage? Is there some connection with the desert heat?

Anyway, sorry for the rambling post. It just struck me how cool it is that gaming - and particularly FF6 - has this unique method of conveying story that is not possible with any other medium, and that's pretty cool! FF6 is also the only game that I can recall that uses equipment to convey (or imply) untold elements of the story like this.

As if I needed yet another reason to obsessively love the game so much.

#ff6 #thoughts from my brain

[creepzkilla]

[BRIAN THOMAS, TOBY ROGERS, TIMOTHY WRIGHT x FEM! READER]

chapter warning. gore, death, mutilation, maggots, talk of killing an animal, gutting an animal.

wc. 7860

authors note. this fic gonna be long asf so buckle up. sorry its lowkey boring up yk its building suspense. any questions about the fic or concerns please submit an ask!

important, read. even though this is implied to be a female reader that has she/her pronouns, I suggest downloading this extension for Microsoft edge to replace [Y/N] as your name and to replace she/her with your preferred pronouns to make you feel more comfortable if you do not identify as a female.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏: 𝐇𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐑𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄

meaning. a mushroom that grows over decaying bodies

As the sun rose above the eastern horizon, casting its golden hues across the land, a lone car ventured forth on the winding roads leading to Grove, Oklahoma. The engine purred softly, its rhythmic hum blending harmoniously with the melody of nature. With the sounds of soft rock and country preoccupying the silence that the car held in its void. The silence was filled with the songs of Linda Ronstadt, and Deana Carter; two maestros of musical storytelling, graced the airwaves, serenading the passenger with a poignant repertoire of cherished memories. The tunes resounded with the recollections of sun-drenched summers spent in the Western fields, where her mother's berry farm unfurled its emerald charm.

[Y/N]’s mind wandered back to the days when the weathered white barn stood as a sentinel, and the family's nearly antique truck nestled alongside, an endearing relic from bygone eras. Each note carried her back to the sight of verdant paint curling and surrendering to the passage of time, revealing glimpses of raw metal beneath. She vividly recalled the delicate act of running her nails over the lifted layers of paint, peeling them away one by one, as if uncovering the hidden stories embedded within the truck's weathered facade.

In nothing but her nightgown, [Y/N] ventured out, her bare feet delicately dangling just beyond the worn-out Ford logo adorning the truck bed. Wandering through the fields, she traversed the rough terrain, her feet bearing the brunt of her barefoot journey. The berry saplings, a recurring sight in spring and summer, had now blossomed, displaying their succulent fruits as late summer approached. Yet before their transformation, the bushes stood tall, their leaves pointed and vigorous. Her path, confined to the Western fields, beckoned her toward the barn. Basking in abundant sunlight, the western expanse fostered accelerated growth, causing the saplings there to sprout thorns at a rapid pace. As a consequence, the girl’s feet endured the accumulation of mud and crusty blood, an undeniable testament to her traversing the formidable fields.

With dirtied feet and a stained nightgown, she embarked on her ritual every morning, just before the sun's radiant glow graced the sky. Ascending the antique truck, she found her perch, eagerly awaiting the mesmerizing spectacle of the sun's rays stretching across the vast expanse of land. Yet, amidst this ethereal beauty, her heart danced with anticipation for a different kind of awakening.

As the first glimmers of light began to peek over the horizon, a familiar melody filled the airwaves, heralding the start of a brand new day. Soft country tunes, like those sung by Tanya Tucker and The Judds, tenderly embraced her senses. However, her ears strained for one particular tune, a treasure she yearned for each morning at 8 AM.

And then it happened—John Denver's timeless classic, "Take Me Home, Country Roads," resounded through the airwaves, soothing her soul with its heartfelt lyrics. Sitting atop her vantage point, she became a symphony of joy, her voice bursting forth despite its imperfections. With every note, she poured her heart into the song, her little lungs valiantly attempting to reach every high and low.

Though [Y/N]’s singing may have lacked finesse, it mattered not, for her spirit soared with unbridled enthusiasm. Without pausing for breath, she sang the entire composition, as if on a sacred mission to carry its melody across the rolling hills and valleys. In those precious moments, the world was her stage, and she, the star of her own enchanting performance.

 Queens ensemble of trumpets and brass instruments harmoniously faded into a gentle hum, merging with the engine's subtle vibrations. With every turn of the wheel, a captivating journey unfolded, transporting her to an enchanting realm where time lost its urgency, and the world transformed into a vibrant symphony of colors.

[Y/N]’s grip on the steering wheel remained relaxed, a testament to her confidence in navigating the road ahead. However, the weight of exhaustion was evident beneath her eyes, concealed by bags that hung like heavy burdens. Her gaze alternated between the winding road and the small, blaring red text of the clock on her car monitor: 7:59 A.M.

Anxiously, her fingers drummed against the supple leather steering wheel, mirroring the racing beat of her heart. Her eyes darted back and forth, desperately seeking confirmation of the fleeting minutes. As the hum of the engine threatened to engulf her senses, its dominance was suddenly overpowered by the opening notes of John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads."

In that moment, her attention was captivated by the red letters once more, and they revealed the time: 8:00 A.M. A gentle hum escaped her lips, akin to a sigh of relief, as she muttered along with the song's lyrics, embracing them with unwavering devotion. Without pausing to catch her breath, she sang along, infusing her voice with the song's nostalgic melodies.

The road stretched out like an asphalt ribbon, carving its way through sprawling meadows and rolling hills. Fields of emerald green extended as far as the eye could see, adorned with delicate wildflowers that danced in the gentle breeze. The air, crisp and invigorating, carried with it the scent of earth and the promise of new beginnings.

As the car glided forward, the scenery unfolded like pages in a vivid tapestry.Towering trees lined the roadside, their branches stretching toward the heavens like ancient sentinels. Leaves shimmered with a kaleidoscope of autumnal shades, painting the landscape with fiery reds, burnt oranges, and golden yellows. The trees seemed to whisper secrets to one another, their rustling leaves creating a symphony of nature's own design.

The road wound its way up and down gentle slopes, revealing panoramic vistas that stole the breath away. Mountain ranges stood majestically in the distance, their peaks kissed by the wisps of ethereal clouds. They stood as guardians of the landscape, their stony faces etched with the stories of ages gone by. But nothing could compare to Grand Lake. 

The bridge, spanning what felt like endless miles, gracefully arched over the water, its reflection shimmering in the gentle waves. As if in a dance, a multitude of boats navigated the water's expanse, trailing wakes that glistened in the crystalline depths, mirroring the celestial azure above and the passing cars on the bridge. The radiant spectacle transformed the water into an irrefutably luminous spectacle. It seemed as though liquid silver veins intricately intertwined with the land, carrying the harmonious melodies of life and the captivating tales of the creatures that resided within its mysterious depths. Geese gracefully etched invisible patterns against the vast canvas of the heavens, casting a mesmerizing spell on the onlookers below.

The scratching of gears wound up, blending into the symphony of sound, as the window glass slowly rolled down. The mechanical protest produced a terrible screeching sound, reminiscent of an animal's anguished cry, piercing the air and capturing her attention. Her eyes widened, captivated by the scene that unfolded before her.

Inhaling deeply, she savored the dewy summer air that gracefully entered her lungs, infusing her with an ardent fervor. Each breath became an embrace of life itself. The atmosphere, cool and revitalizing, carried a tangible energy, blending the essence of earth with the promise of new beginnings. The aroma of raindrops and freshly cut grass intermingled, filling her senses with a harmonious fragrance that evoked a sense of contentment. As she exhaled, a sigh of satisfaction escaped her lips, releasing any lingering tension—contentment.

The car engine purred in agreement at the sight of landscape, the tranquility of and complete beauty was simply enchanting.  

In a graceful display of poise and determination, she effortlessly steered the sleek vehicle away from the confines of the bustling main road, opting instead for a captivating detour onto a secluded single-lane path. As the tires glided over the uneven terrain, the verdant canopy of lush green forests enveloped the winding road.

Along this path, a humble dirt road emerged, veering away from the well-trodden route. Its weathered surface, pockmarked and rough, dictated a slower pace, Each jolt and tremor sent ripples of anticipation coursing through her veins, heightening her senses as she pressed on with unwavering resolve.

Gradually, the path unveiled a breathtaking vista, an opening that seemed to materialize from the very fabric of a storybook. A small pond, its crystalline waters shimmering under the gentle caress of the sunlight, beckoned with an irresistible allure. Nestled harmoniously by its side, a resplendent cabin emerged, a captivating testament to rustic beauty.

The cabin, although once a haven of tranquility, now appeared as a relic of forgotten memories, as if time itself had woven a shroud of neglect around its weathered exterior. Weeds triumphantly sprawled across the surroundings, their emerald tendrils dancing in the wind, while determined vines conquered the cabin's weathered facade, gracefully ascending its walls in a seemingly eternal embrace with nature itself.

In this serene tableau, the intrepid traveler found herself drawn to the essence of this forgotten refuge. Its dilapidated state only served to enhance the mystique, inviting her to uncover the tales that lay dormant within its timeworn walls. She sensed that beneath the encroaching foliage and the fading echoes of life, whispers of untold stories and echoes of forgotten laughter still resonated within, yearning for someone to listen, to breathe new life into their cherished existence.

As the shadows danced amidst the rustling leaves, she stepped out of her vehicle, her footsteps cautious yet filled with reverence as the gravel beneath her crunched. The air seemed to hold its breath in anticipation, as if the surroundings acknowledged her arrival, recognizing the significance of this encounter.

As her boots pressed against the gravel roadway, their crunch merged seamlessly with the harmonious of natural sounds that enveloped the picturesque surroundings. Advancing towards the cabin, each step resonated through the ancient floorboards of the front porch, releasing a melancholic creak as if the timeworn planks were exhaling with a subtle sigh. Weathered by countless footsteps, the wooden planks bore the indelible marks of their enduring journey, their once vibrant hue now transformed into a rich, dark oak shade. Inhaling deeply, she absorbed the essence of the place, her hand gravitating toward the doorknob of the screen door. For a fleeting moment, her gaze caught the old rocking chair, swaying gently in response to the playful caress of the breeze that meandered through the air. Finally, [Y/N]’s turned the the doorknob as the screen door creaked open—exhaling.

 She inhaled, the sharp fragrance of pine and bleach wove its way into her senses, its pungency tugging at her  nostrils. Their potent combination was not without consequence, for it provoked a reaction within her, eliciting a gentle scrunching of her nose. 

The house exuded an eerie aura of both familiarity and enigma.  She found herself standing in an expansive, open area cabin, devoid of hallways, which seemed to beckon her further inside. With each step, the immaculate cleanliness of the interior revealed itself, creating an almost surreal ambiance.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the second floor, with its single set of stairs ascending like a mysterious gateway to another realm. On the ground floor, to her right, lay a quaint and compact kitchen, an intimate space that appeared to have witnessed the preparation of countless meals and conversations with its worn down appliances. 

To her left, the living room stretched before her like a tapestry of memories. A comfortable couch adorned the space, an inviting haven where the occupants must have spent many hours engrossed in captivating tales or deep contemplation. In front of the couch, the heart of the room resided—a grand fireplace. Its flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, seemingly whispering forgotten secrets.

Perched atop the fireplace, an old flat screen TV served as a window to the past, where characters from era that might have come alive came alive, momentarily escaping their scripted confines. The juxtaposition of the antiquated screen and the modernity it once represented painted a vivid portrait of the house's intriguing history.

Yet, despite all the intriguing elements that adorned the room, her gaze eventually shifted downward to the very foundation of the space. The wooden floor bore the weight of countless footsteps and stories, its grainy texture inviting her to feel the past as she walked upon it.

In the realm of her consciousness, she possessed an intimate knowledge of the house's history. In the era preceding her own, her beloved grandparents had entrusted its care to a man of enigmatic nature, one by the name of Willard Tucker. The townsfolk, adorned with tales and whispers, had deemed him a peculiar figure, cloaked in the shadows of perceived insanity. Yet, the precise details eluded her, veiled behind a shroud of uncertainty. All that remained were fragments of narratives whispered through the winds of time—stories suggesting that the man, his heart shattered by the loss of his wife, had departed for the fertile lands of West Virginia, seeking solace within the embrace of family ties, all while taking up farming.

She had guessed that Willard was the reason for the foul smell of cleaning products. Cleaning and scrubbing off residue so as to not leave it behind for the next tenant. That being her—a girl from small town Kansas in the depths of the west. However, she secretly cursed Willard for using so much of the cleaning product.

Upstairs and to the left, In the midst of simplicity, her bedroom exuded a quiet charm. Nestled against the wall, a regal queen-sized bed commanded the center stage, flanked by two modest nightstands. On the left, a generous window framed the wall, revealing a glimpse of the  wooden sanctuary beyond.

As she gazed through the window's translucent pane, a tingle of anticipation caressed her being. It was as if the wistful tendrils of nature, woven into the fabric of the scene, beckoned her. The sheer simplicity of the room was deceptive, for within its unassuming boundaries. A shiver traced its delicate fingers along her spine, electrifying the air with a gentle chill.

She shook it off as paranoia. 

As she ventured into the confines of the bathroom, her delicate fingers gently placed the small pills of respite into the trinity of mirrors ensconced within the cabinet. Ambien, a faithful companion in her torment against insomnia, found solace in this sanctuary. The affliction had haunted her since the early years of her high school debut when a merciless onslaught of ghastly nightmares infiltrated her slumber. Rarely, she could sleep without nightmares, rarely she could sleep at all. Not through a full night at least. In a valiant attempt to retain her grasp on reality, she adorned her abode with vibrant beacons of guidance, neon yellow sticky notes that served as simple reminders.

Before she placed the pills in their place, with meticulous care, she tenderly appraised the contents of each vial, her discerning gaze fixed upon the pills nested within. Twelve, she confirms. Retrieving a vibrant yellow sticky note from her pocket from her linen jacket, her blue pen danced across the note, etching the numbers upon the labels of both bottles with blue ink. 

Nestled gently beside the cabin lies a quaint garden, albeit a modest one, marred by a profusion of resilient weeds. Throughout her family’s lineage, they had cultivated a bounteous farm teeming with an abundance of blossoms, nourishing produce, and succulent fruits. This trio, her mother, father, and herself, helmed a "berry utopia"—an expanse of verdant fields, stretching across countless acres, brimming with an assortment of fruit:  blueberries, blackberries, vibrant raspberries, strawberries, and cranberries—each variety harvested with unyielding dedication.

As her gaze fell upon the  garden, now overrun and wild, a surge of nostalgia washed over her like a familiar melody from a song. The sight evoked memories of her home, where there were fields upon fields of saplings of fresh berries. Determination welled up within her, fueled by a profound sense of connection. With resolute certainty, she understood that this hallowed ground deserved to be restored to its former glory. And then this became her mission.

With a hum, she nestled into the plush embrace into the seat of her car, releasing a wearied sigh that spoke volumes about her exhaustion. The weight of countless sleepless nights seemed to settle beneath her eyes, casting shadowy hues that deepened with each passing moment. Her gaze drifted toward the console, where a vibrant neon yellow sticky note had found a temporary perch upon the sleek gear shift. Delicately scripted upon its surface were two simple yet poignant words: "Call Mom."

A flicker of recollection sparked within her. Reminding her of the promise she had made to her worry-laden mother. A call was expected, an assurance of her safe arrival. Jane, her mother, possessed a peculiar knack for turning fret into an art form, yet in her own idiosyncratic way, her daughter desired nothing more than the act of vanishing without a trace.

In the tender embrace of  Jane’s watchful care, her protective nature has forever been her daughters steadfast companion. Jane ardently desired for [Y/N] to remain by her side, nestled within the sanctuary of her love, tending to the bountiful fields of the farm until the end of days. Undoubtedly, affection for her only child knows no bounds, yet an undeniable sense of confinement subtly gnawed at her being. 

Since the untimely demise of [Y/N]’s beloved father, a transformative shift enveloped her mother's being. Like a shadow cast by the moon's gentle glow, she became an ever-watchful sentinel, closely monitoring her daughter's every step with unwavering dedication. Her love took on an armor of protection, shielding [Y/N] from the world's perils with an intensity that left her in awe. The mere notion of forging friendships seemed inconceivable, friends were near to few, yet she made it through. 

As she embarked on her journey to the store, a fleeting thought of reaching out to her beloved mother danced in her mind, promising to materialize into a heartfelt conversation once she fulfilled her immediate errands. Before delving into the realm of garden essentials, a trusty blue ballpoint pen found its place in her hand, etching a list: a delightful assortment of blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, and  blackberries. A sudden mishap tainted the pristine clarity of the yellow paper, as her thumb inadvertently collided with the wet ink, obfuscating the very last word with an smudge, rendering it a mere blur, without her noticing

The jingle reverberating through the air above the door was no delightful melody, but rather a haunting creak that sent shivers down one's spine. As the door swung shut, it unleashed a piercing screech, its brass hinges groaning under the weight of accumulated rust. In that moment, it seemed as though a flurry of white paint chips had erupted into the air, propelled by the force with which the door had slammed shut. She was consumed by a wave of embarrassment, cast her gaze around, desperately seeking an opportunity to offer a timid apology to the cashier. Regrettably, the name tag affixed to the cashier's uniform bore the name "Ranae Reeds," yet the older woman remained oblivious to the commotion, deeply engrossed in the captivating narrative of her newspaper, so captivated that she spared not even a passing glance.

The quaint little store exuded an ambiance both intimate and grundgy. Its petite dimensions were adorned with luminous streams of yellow light, gently cascading overhead, a mesmerizing sight that lured a vibrant array of insects, their presence immortalized by a delicate layer of expired life at the base of the ceiling fixtures. Amidst this glow, a second source of illumination emerged from the rear of the store, emanating from the flickering glow of the freezers, whose contents contained nothing but dairy products.

Four rows stood in perfect formation, each aisle beckoning with an irresistible allure. Yet, it was the initial 3rd island that caught her attention. Like echoes from her college days, these rows overflowed with an abundance of budget-friendly delights, an ensemble of delectable junk food.

On the 4th and final row, she found what she needed; seeds.  She picked up a variety of packets of seeds, holding the small packets between her fingers. Blueberry, Raspberries, and strawberries—She was missing one thing

She nestled her hands into the cozy refuge of her coat pocket, avidly searching for that elusive neon yellow sticky note. Days of inadequate slumber had exacted their toll, leaving her mental acuity adrift in a sea of drowsiness, a constant companion to her weary mind.

The yellow paper must have slipped out somewhere. 

As she turned to retrace her steps, her gaze fell upon a figure standing a few feet away. Dressed in a dark hoodie that seemed to swallow his form, he was an enigmatic presence amidst the mundane shopping atmosphere. His face was partially concealed by a dark yellow hood, casting intriguing shadows upon his features.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should approach him. But something compelled her to step forward, her curiosity overpowering any apprehension she might have felt. With a nervous yet determined smile, she approached the figure.

"’scuse me," she began, her voice tentative but polite with a southern accent slipping through her lips. "I seem to have dropped something, and was wonderin if you happened to see a yellow sticky note?"

He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers through the darkness of the hood. His gaze was intense, as if trying to unravel the secrets hidden behind her words. Without a word, he bent down and picked up the stray yellow sticky note from the floor, holding it out to her.

Relief washed over her as she accepted the note, feeling a strange connection form in that brief exchange. "Thank you lots," she said, her gratitude evident in her voice. "I wouldve been lost without this."

As she looked up to thank him, her eyes widened in surprise. The hood that had previously obscured his face had fallen back, revealing his features in full. His brown hair was unkempt, falling across his forehead in a disheveled manner, matching the roughness of his beard. There was a weariness etched into his face, as if he carried the weight of a world unseen.

His eyes, though tired, possessed an unmistakable glimmer of something deep and complex. They held a mix of vulnerability and strength, as if he had seen things that most could never comprehend. The lines around his eyes spoke of experiences that had left their mark, making him seem older than his years.

He was quite handsome, [Y/N] thought.

A ghost of a smile played upon his lips as he nodded in response to her thanks, acknowledging her gratitude. “Ain't no trouble.," he replied, his voice a low rumble that held a hint of grave and southern twang. "Happy to lend a hand."

Silence hung in the air for a moment, as if both of them were caught in a suspended moment, each waiting for the other to break the spell. It seemed like the man found himself unable to tear his gaze away. 

‘Dude, fucking break eye contact, this is getting weird’, She thought as an awkward frown formed on her face.

Her eyes flickered to the red gallon he held in his hand, the word gasoline emblazoned across it. Questions formed in her mind, but she hesitated, deciding against asking him directly. There was an unspoken understanding that some things were better left unsaid.

Instead, she mustered a smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, thanks again," she said, her voice warm with sincerity. "It was nice of ya to help me out."

His lips curled into a slightly deeper smile, a tooth gap evident, a hint of something genuine breaking through his stoic demeanor. "No worries," he replied, his voice tinged with a quiet appreciation, before going back to looking at the seeds. 

The way his lips curled into a grin, sent shivers down the curve of her spine. Though his smile, expansive and brimming with teeth, held a peculiar detachment within the depths of his eyes, a dissonance that left her unsettled. His lips, etched into a smile, never reached his eyes. Like an emotionless facaque. He had something of a crooked grin, skewed in its authenticity, that just didn't seem right Deep within her core, an unsettling awareness resonated, silently cautioning her about the man before her. Still, an irresistible force tugged at her very being, pulling her closer to his presence.

She glanced down at her yellow sticky note for the last item, only for the blue writing to be smudged. 

“Fuck.”

The man couldn’t help but notice the frustration on her face as she stared at the yellow sticky note in her hand. The item she had written on it was smudged, rendering it illegible. He cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between them in the garden aisle at the back of the store.

"Hey again,  uh... , 'scuse me for interrupting but aah couldn't help but notice yer frustration. Do you still need a hand?" The man had asked, his voice gentle and concerned.

Startled by his sudden address, she looked up, her eyes meeting his. She blinked a few times, trying to regain her composure. "Oh, hey. uh... i was just trying to remember what i needed to buy," she stammered, a hint of embarrassment displayed on her face. 

He nodded, understanding the struggle of forgetfulness. His gaze fell upon a rack of seed packets nearby. "Well, if yer open to suggestions, there's this type of berry seed that might do the trick.  They're strong and grow plenty. Might just be what ya searchin for.”

She hummed, her eyes widening as she turned her attention to the seed packets he indicated. She scanned them, reading the descriptions and imagining the bountiful berries that could grow from them. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Imma give em’ a try," [Y/N] replied, grateful for the suggestion,"Thank you."

He reached out, plucked a seed packet from the rack, and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed briefly, a fleeting connection that sent a shiver down her spine. She accepted the packet, feeling the weight of the possibilities it held.

"Yer welcome," He had said with a genuine smile that still didn't reach his eyes. "Aah sure hope they bring you a fruitful harvest." he laughs.

As she held the seed packet in her hand, she couldn't help but be struck by a sudden curiosity. "Do you gotta a garden?" [Y/N] laughed, “You sure seemed to know lots bout’ plants and whatnot.”

His smile faltered slightly, and he glanced away for a moment. "Well, I used to have one," he replied softly. "But things shifted ‘round, and aah had to leave it behind… but ah’m fixin’ to start a new’un.” He drawled out with a smile. 

Understanding flickered in her eyes, and she nodded in sympathy. Sometimes life forces people to leave behind things they hold dear. It reminded her of something, but she just couldnt put her finger on it. Before she could delve further into the subject, his phone buzzed loudly, interrupting their conversation.

He fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. A serious expression settled on his face as he answered the call. His voice was barely audible, and he moved away from her, creating a physical distance between them.

She watched him, a mixture of caution and curiosity mingling within her. His hushed conversation gave away little, leaving her to wonder about the nature of the call. 

As the call ended, He turned back to face her, his eyes filled with a mixture of apology and urgency. He didn't say a word but mouthed a goodbye, his hand waving gently in farewell. Without another word, he swiftly made his way out of the garden aisle, leaving her standing there, holding the seed packet in her hand.

“I wish i would’ve at least gotten his name.” [Y/N] hummed, rubbing the packet in her hand. She really hopes that the man was right about this seed packet.

She read the packet again, more carefully. The packet read Boysenberry. A cross between  a raspberry, blackberry, dewberry, and loganberry. She could make this work. The picture showed something like a blackberry , yet it was enlongated and a deep red, almost black color. The description read that when freshly picked, it tasted like a sweet blueberry with a tangy aftertaste. 

[Y/N] grabbed a few more more things: 2 bags of fertilizer, Top Soil, and Green gloves

She sighed, walking towards the front desk, flashing a soft smile towards the cashier, Ranae Reeds, she recalled. The woman’s name tag was worn around the edges, with her name partially faded. Much like the name tag, Ranae was a little worn around the edges. With her gray roots, her deep smile lines told tales of a younger, happier her.  

Ranae Reeds delicately placed her magazine, adorned with the captivating headline, "Infamous Serial Killer, Jeffery Woods caught," on the polished surface before her. [Y/N]’s eyes beheld the image of a man whose countenance bore the unmistakable evidence of two hauntingly deep gashes etched into his cheeks, and a profound sensation seized her being. The spectacle unfolded before her like an eerie tableau—an unsettling tableau that seemed to suspend the very breath in her throat. Its sheer grotesqueness sent tremors coursing through her, causing the hairs on the nape of her neck to rise in response.

Ranae cashier merely looked at the younger girl, almost with sympathy.

The cashier took the seed packets with a shaky hand, her golden bracelet jingling  as she scanned the packets of seeds with a ding of the scanner, “I ain’t neva seen ya round’ before.” Ranae spoke with assertiveness and confidence, surprisingly, as her stature was rather petite and she seemed to be soft-spoken. But that was in fact not the case.

[Y/N] was taken aback by her sudden curiosity, she blinked and said, “I just got ere’ this morning, moved in today.” She rocked back and forth on her toes and heels, eagerly wanting to leave already.

Ranae looked at her up and down with a bored expression on her face and asked, “Where yer from girl?” Her lips never moved from the straight line that almost seemed to be formed. Her freckled hands grabbed the fertilizer as she scraped the bag of pellets across the scanner, never taking her eyes off of  [Y/N].

DING. 

“Oh, aah’m from Kansas. Born n’ raised.” [Y/N] didn't have a Southern dialect—well, not anymore. It only slips out on occasion, particularly when talking to someone else with a southern twang. Her momma and daddy always had a thick southern voice, as they were both from Texas and moved to Kansas. 

Kansasans don’t exactly have an accent, besides not pronouncing the “R” in words. Yet, they got a way of speaking that you can clearly tell their from somewhere in the West.  If you went south, close to the Oklahoma border, the accent would get thicker as you went. 

Ranae hummed, almost like she had something to say, yet she bit her tongue. She scanned the items slowly, like she was purposely taking her time.

[Y/N] shook her leg rapidly, impatience growing within her as she watched Ranae struggle to bag the items in a brown paper bag. 

DING.

“My PawPaw and MawMaw died recently, so I inherited their cabin down by Grand Lake,” She said in attempt to fill the silence that annoyed her so much, in hope to pass the time. [Y/N] has always been rather extroverted, starting conversations with strangers she didn't mind, it was this silence that ate at her. The silence was bugs crawling underneath her skin, like roaches gnawing at her veins as they swam in her blood. 

Ranae merely hummed again, scanning an item, completely uninterested in the  conversation at hand, letting silence fall over the conversation once more. The silence was only broken by tapping of [Y/N]’s leather boots, which were worn out and needed replacement. 

“A man named Willard Tucker used to live there—“

DING.

“Ya best be careful round that house,” Ranae suddenly spoke up, her brown eyes boring into the girls, a serious expression took over her features,“There been rumors bout’ some folks down by those parts doing god knows what.” The woman's veiny hands wandered through the bag of fertilizer in search of the bar code.

[Y/N] stiffened at her sudden demeanor. “I see,” She watched intensively as Ranae scanned the last item before bagging it into a brown bag and pushing it towards [Y/N].  

Y/N smiles, “I’Il be sure to be careful—“

“And ya best be careful round that man that was in ere’ earlier. Aah’ve seen him do some suspicious things with those little friends of his.” Ranae cut her off once again, except her loud and apprehensive nature was no more; instead, it was quiet, and she was talking merely above a whisper. 

“He’s up to no good, girl.” Ranae’s eyes once again, bore into [Y/N]’s with a sense of urgency and protection. Ranae reminded [Y/N] of her mother, Jane. From the way, she spoke with a protectiveness of a mother to her veiny freckled hands that trembled constantly. 

DING.

[Y/N] hummed, taking the brown bags underneath her arms hastily, “I will don't worry.” She reassured Ranae with a tight-lipped smile, before pushing through the door that opened with a groan.

The smell of summer once again hit her, and she inhaled the sweet, tangy air. It was humid as well, the weather was hot and sticky. [Y/N] was used to it from being on a farm for all of her life, yet she never really enjoyed it. Her dad, Steve, enjoyed the heat, he loved it. He would always drag her out of the house when it was well into the 90’s.

She really misses her dad.

[Y/N] threw the brown bags in the tail bed of her 1995 Ford 150. She slid into the plush fabric of her seat, shutting the car door behind her as she slumped against the leather steering wheel. 

“Why in the hell is it so damn hot?” 

She peeled herself off of the steering wheel, her head heavy as drowsiness took over. partly from the lack of sleep, and the warm sun that scattered it’s light against her face.

She shoves the old, almost rusty, key into the ignition, turning it to start the car. The car sputtered, before failing to start. [Y/N] sighed, before trying again, turning the key in the ignition. Yet again, it groaned and sputtered with a metallic scratching noise that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. 

It was an old truck, a gift for her 16th birthday. Painted a dark red that rusted around its silver rims, the truck was a relic, almost like a family heirloom that her family passed down from one generation to the next. It was frequent that the truck wouldn't start, constantly breaking down from a plethora of problems. It wasn't just one problem with the truck, but everything. The engine, the ground cables, the filter, overheating-- the truck almost had every problem in the book.

“I swear to fucking god,” She turns it for the third time, Please, god, start.” She pleaded as the engine sputtered once more, before roaring to life with fever. 

[Y/N] slumped her head on her steering wheel once more and said, “Thank you,” She kissed the leather steering wheel, thankful that the universe had answered her pleas. 

With the roar of the engine [Y/N] peeled out of the small parking lot of the Grocery Store.

Within the forgotten garden, an eerie silence lingered, broken only by the faint rustle of weeds that thrived unchecked. Like rebellious tendrils, the vibrant greens stretched beyond the confines of the patch of tilled earth, entwining their wiry strands with the blades of grass and any unsuspecting object within reach. Mushrooms and fungi covered the garden like a blanket, growing in mass abundance. This unruly congregation of vegetation and fungi seemed to possess a will of its own, reclaiming its dominion over a forsaken realm. Amongst the overgrown foliage, unseen insects and arachnids sought refuge, their presence betrayed only by an occasional scuttle or a shimmer of silken threads. Camouflaged amidst the verdant chaos, they patiently awaited their next unsuspecting prey, ready to seize upon any who ventured too close. 

As the sun descended in the western sky, its golden rays extended through the dense foliage of towering oak trees, painting a mesmerizing tapestry of light and shadow. The ethereal dance of illumination and obscurity enveloped the scene, amplifying the eeriness that permeated the air. The songs of robins and mourning doves serenaded the somber landscape, their delicate melodies contrasting with the ominous backdrop. Amidst the rustling leaves and trilling birds, She heard the distant grunt of a white-tailed deer. And as the final rays of sunlight retreated beyond the horizon, they bathed the discovery in a soft, eerie glow, accentuating the unsettling sight before the witness's eyes.

[Y/N] glanced at her phone, which glowed an illuminating white. She looked at the white numbers that read: 6:00 PM.  

She stretched her limps as they  ached from hours of being hunched over digging to completely remove the wild grass and herbs that grew. Her arms gave a satisfying crack, just as her back did in response. She had napped for a satisfying 7 hours,only waking a few times. [Y/N] was suprised that she was able to nap in general. She was content and fully recharged. On the downside, she probably won’t be able to get any rest tonight. 

At least she'll be able to stay awake binging Netflix.

With a determined grip, she thrust her green gloves into the yielding earth, their fabric sinking into the damp soil as she uprooted the herbs with a swift, purposeful tug. As she pulled, the tips of her gloves absorbed the essence of the earth, their vibrant hue now tainted by the stubborn remnants of the earth's bounty. The once-pristine fingers of her gloves were adorned with a telltale shade of brown, evidence of their close association with the soil. And beneath the surface, her nails bore the weight of the garden's secrets, caked with a fine layer of dirt that clung tenaciously to the thin, porous material. 

[Y/N]’s mind wandered as she aimlessly dug through the soil, ripping the herbs from their roots like tendrils. Until her hands gripped something that squished beneath her fingers.

She gazed down, her eyes widening in pure horror, as a gut-wrenching sight unfolded before her. In her trembling hands, a writhing mass of maggots squirmed with repulsive vigor, their pale bodies contorting and intertwining in an unsettling dance. The pungent stench of decay wafted through the air, assaulting her senses and threatening to overpower her resolve. As her grip tightened involuntarily, the soft flesh of the larvae ruptured, smearing her trembling hands with a sickening mixture of viscera and fluids. The once-innocent soil beneath her feet became a graveyard for crushed worms, their slimy remnants mingling with her fingers, an unholy stain that marked her as both witness and participant in this grotesque scene. 

[Y/N] let out a blood churdling scream as she stumbled backwards from her squatting position, landing on her backside. She frantically swiped her hands together to get the maggots off as they fell into the grass beside her. 

The squirming maggots, now a grotesque spectacle in the dew-kissed grass, seemed to writhe in agony. Their once pale, plump bodies were now stained crimson, their delicate flesh bearing the gruesome evidence of their fallen brethren.  Each wriggling creature fought desperately, their tiny frames flayed violently as they were torn away from their decaying feast. The gore of destruction painted the once vibrant green blades of grass a haunting shade of red.

“What the actual fuck?” 

Laying where [Y/N]’s gloved hand dug, was a mound of dirt that maggots swarmed, their white skin hiding beneath the dirt.

[Y/N]’s curiosity peaked exponentially as she moved closer to the mound, dirt staining her knees brown. Her gloves dug through the maggots filled mound, her stomach filling with uneasiness as they glided through the soil.

Suddenly, her hands struck a soft, pudgy, material. [Y/N] dug through the dirt to fully uncover the mound, and as maggots crawled anxiously around her hands, she recoiled in disgust. She was sure it must be a dead animal, and the land must have grown around it, right? 

[Y/N] knew the stench of death, and didn't partially mind the sight of dead animals. Her father, Steve, was a frequent hunter of deer and other game, to which [Y/N] accompanied him. Steve had taught her from a young age how to field dress a deer. Hanging the deer up by its hooves to a tree, she remembers taking her father's hunting knife and running it down the belly of the animal-- very gently to not puncture the belly. Scooping the contents of the deer out, leaving the inside of the deer completely bare. That was the easy part. Now to field dress the deer, was a tedious and lengthy process, using the tip of her knife to slowly peel the hide off of the animal. Hours would pass in the blistering Kansas heat and wind. It was revolting, yet she grew accustomed to the sight.

For her 13th birthday, she was gifted an old 22. rifle from Steve—an old gun that needed to constantly be cleaned and scoped in. The bullets weren’t made for large game such as deer, but they did work on prairie dogs that plagued cow farmers' fields. Eventually, she got a .300 WIN MAG, which now sat below her bed.

She had guessed the rotting carcass of an anwinsle from the potent smell wafting through the air. An unmistakable and haunting odor tainted the air, suffusing every inhalation with a chilling foreboding. It was the stench of death, a macabre orchestra composed of decaying flesh and the ghostly remnants of blood.  

As she slowly uncovered the mound, it became more and more apparent what the mound was. Her hands swiped away the last layer of dirt and maggots to reveal the form underneath the soil. 

[Y/N]’s features contorted with sheer terror again, the lines of his face etched deep with despair. The pallor of her skin turned with goosebumps, a stark contrast to the clammy beads of perspiration that clung to her furrowed brow. Eyes wide, they became twin portals to the void, reflecting the depths of her fear—paralyzed.

A corpse, abandoned to the earth, lies in a state of advanced decomposition. Its once vibrant form is now a haunting testament to the inevitability of mortality. The body, stripped of life, is a pillar of grotesque transformations. The flesh has given way to a grotesque canvas, with patches of decomposed tissue revealing glimpses of bone beneath. The skin, mottled and discolored, hangs loosely, tattered and ravaged by relentless decay. Time etched deep crevices into the once-familiar countenance, obscuring any resemblance to the person it once was. Swarms of maggots and other scavengers feast upon the remains, their writhing presence further amplifying the scene's repulsive nature. 

 Bile crawled up through [Y/N]’s as she doubled over, vomiting into the grass next to her. Food chunks and liquid sprayed the green grass a vomit brown. A tremor coursed through her trembling frame, betraying her tenuous grasp on composure. It was in this harrowing moment that horror unfurled its chilling wings, casting an indelible veil upon her face—a blanket of anguish. The very air seemed to quiver in the presence of such raw, unadulterated fear, as if nature itself recoiled in silent reverence for the intensity of her terror. 

She had torn off her gloves as she scrambled across the grass, grabbing her phone, in an attempt to distance herself as much as possible from the corpse. Her surroundings seemed to spin as the drum of her heart overtook her hearing as well as the sound of the dial tone. When did she call 911?

“This is 911, what’s your emergency?” A woman's voice came from the other side of the phone. Calm, and tender, her voice was comforting. Yet her voice was almost muffled as [Y/N]'s heartbeat filled her eardrums.

“I," [Y/N]'s breath was shaky, quiet as she spoke with a sense of urgency, "Would like to report a dead body."

tag, @rat-briccs-trauma, @strawberrie-fluff, @spookyravioli @darkovergrownforestnymph, @urmomisaqt420 @yipeeesstuff

.@qupiikaaa @fynnwolff

#⌗weeds #—*. * ·creepzytalks #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta fanart #creepypasta art #ticci toby #marble hornets #ticci toby x reader #masky mh #masky x reader #masky marble hornets #creepypasta toby #mh hoody #hoody creepypasta #hoodie x reader #creepypasta hoodie #ticci toby creepypasta

[nintendo-b1tch]

Forget Me Not

Based on a dream I had after playing Twilight Princess again, hope you enjoy!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your eyes, usually sharp and focused, were fixated on the picture flawlessly etched into the weathered wood of an ancient tree. It was as if time had halted, for the world around you faded into insignificance compared to the overwhelming emotion that welled up within you. As your gaze lingered upon the carving, a silent tear escaped your eye, tracing a path down your cheek. In that poignant moment, the magnitude of what you were witnessing sank deep into your soul.

The crude depiction before you held more meaning than you initially comprehended. It wasn't just a unique design etched into the bark; it depicted your past husband, a person whose memory had been buried in the sands of time and now resurfaced unexpectedly. The realization shattered your very existence, your heart torn between joy at the recognition and sorrow for the forgotten love. What were the odds of stumbling upon such a profound relic that intertwined your past and present selves?

Overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions, your entire being trembled uncontrollably. Your hands instinctively reached up to shield your tear-stained face as you sought solace in the darkness behind your closed eyelids. However, amidst the cacophony of your sobbing, a peculiar sound seeped through the anguish that blanketed your senses. It was a distant howling – mournful yet hauntingly familiar.

Curiosity and an insatiable longing compelled you to lift your head, the tears mingling with the remnants of grief on your flushed cheeks. Sensing a mysterious connection between the unwavering howl and your fragmented memories, you rose from the ground with an unsteady grace. One hesitant step after another, you ventured in the direction from which the forlorn melody emerged, an invisible thread guiding your uncertain path.

As you continued to follow the echoing sound through the winding paths of your inner labyrinth, the pursuit of its origin propelled you into a profound self-exploration. Memories, vivid and ephemeral, danced in your mind like distant dreams. Struggling to unravel the enigma that bound you to this mournful call, you delved deeper into the recesses of your consciousness, grasping at fleeting wisps of familiarity.

The intertwining symphony of anguish and hope reverberated within you, forcing forgotten recollections to resurface like fragile whispers carried by the wind. Through the labyrinth of your own mind, you ventured, driven by an urgency to uncover the truth lying dormant within your subconscious. Each step, each stride, brought you closer to unlocking the enigma that bound your past and present, unraveling the symphony of emotions playing delicately within your soul.

In this ethereal journey fueled by the haunting howl, the boundaries between time and memory blurred, intertwining seamlessly. No longer were you merely a witness to the past, but an active participant in the unraveling tapestry of existence. With every beat of your heart, the melody grew stronger, an echo of lives intertwined, echoing through the corridors of time.

And so, as you ventured further into the depths of your being, determined to uncover the source of the haunting howl, the connection between the carved image and the resurfacing memories began to crystallize. The symphony of your past and present harmonized, revealing the threads that bound your souls across the eons. With each step, your path became clearer, steadily guiding you toward an understanding that had long eluded you.

In the whispering shadows of your own mind, the familiar melody grew louder, igniting a spark of recognition deep within your core. The tears that once fell from sorrow now glistened with a glimmer of newfound revelation. With every stride forward, you inched closer to a revelation that would forever alter your perception of love, loss, and the intricate tapestry of existence itself.

Memories came rushing back to you in an instant as you fell to your knees, overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions. Time seemed to lose all meaning as you realized you had been walking for what felt like an eternity, yet you found yourself standing before a majestic stone adorned with the distinctive crest of the sheikah, instantly triggering a surge of adrenaline and tension within your body.

Your eyes widened in astonishment and wonder as they locked onto the mesmerizing figure of a golden wolf standing proudly in front of the stone. Its haunting howl pierced the silence, causing your heart to skip a beat. Every fiber of your being tingled with recognition as you realized this wolf was a familiar presence from the depths of your past.

This majestic creature, with its golden fur shimmering in the faint light, seemed to possess secrets untold. It stood there, as if waiting for something, its back turned towards you. A flood of bittersweet memories washed over you as you recalled the times you had spent together, harmonizing with each other's souls. The image of him playing his ocarina while you lovingly sang along filled your mind, bringing forth an overwhelming surge of emotions and tears to your eyes.

As the wolf continued to howl, it was as if it was beckoning you, calling out for you to join in the magical melody once again. Despite the rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm you, you mustered the strength to slowly begin singing. Each note escaping your lips carried with it a piece of your soul, intermingling with the wolf's howl in a symphony of longing and remembrance.

" Day to night, dark to light,

Fall the sands of time…

Let the years, like the gears

Of a clock, unwind... "

In those captivating moments when you found yourself in the presence of him, an inexplicable whirlwind of emotions washed over you, evoking a powerful sense of longing and pure joy in equal measure. Your eyes, filled with anticipation and enthrallment, began to trace the majestic figure of the wolf standing before you, carefully examining each exquisite detail that adorned his being. The glistening coat of golden fur that gracefully enveloped him crafted a mesmerizing contrast against the surrounding scenery, casting a breathtaking allure that left you spellbound. As the wolf gracefully shifted its gaze towards you, a profound connection seemed to materialize, transcending the boundaries of mere physicality. His resonant howls filled the air, their haunting echoes reverberating through your very core, echoing the depths of your soul and forging an undeniable bond.

" In your mind walk through time

Back to better days…

Memories, like a dream,

Wash tears away… "

As you locked eyes with him, a wave of emotions washed over you, leaving you breathless. The sight of his face, adorned with intricate markings, stirred something deep within you, evoking a mixture of awe, curiosity, and an inexplicable pain in your chest. It was as if a sudden influx of understanding hit you with full force.

As your voice faltered, punctuated by soft sobs, you felt your legs give out beneath you, causing you to collapse to your knees. The weight of the realization, finally connecting the dots, overwhelmed you. You knew exactly who he was - the significance of those markings, etched onto his golden fur as if painted by a divine hand, became starkly apparent.

The familiarity of those markings, as they graced his face and flowed seamlessly into the magnificent patterns on his fur, served as a catalyst for a profound sense of realization. Through the tremors in your voice, you continued to sing, the haunting melody intertwining with the mythical resonance of a howling wolf.

Every note you emitted was fraught with emotion, echoing your own journey of self-discovery. The melodies danced between tears and determination, weaving together a tapestry of vulnerability and strength. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, captivated by the enigma before you.

In that moment, it was as if time itself stood still, a tranquil oasis amidst the chaos of the world. The ethereal connection you shared with him intensified, fueling a fire within your soul. This encounter marked a turning point in your life, a profound realization that you were bound to this mystical creature in ways beyond comprehension.

So, you continued to sing, your voice carrying both the weight of your own emotions and the echoing memories of distant lands. The howling wolf, embodied by his presence, became a symbol of untamed spirit, an embodiment of resilience and a reminder of the mysteries that lay beyond ordinary existence.

As your singing continued, swirling with the essence of your newfound understanding, you remained on your knees, humbled by the profound connection that blossomed in that singular moment.

" Like a star in the sky,

Darkness can't reach you.

Light the night, joy is light,

Till the new dawn... "

The untamed wilderness echoed with the hauntingly melodic sound of the wolf's howl, captivating and mesmerizing. Surrounded by the moonlit darkness, it seemed almost as if the majestic creature had developed an uncanny admiration for your singing prowess, eagerly urging you to persist in your harmonious performance. As each note effortlessly escaped your lips, carrying with it a celestial resonance, it charmed the wolf, touching its very core.

In the midst of this ethereal encounter, your trembling fingers became entangled in the delicate fabric of your tunic, their desperate grip betraying your deep emotional connection to the song. With each verse, the melody reached its pinnacle, wrapping around your heart and finding expression through your outstretched arms, desperately yearning to reach the enigmatic creature before you.

Yet, despite the tender beauty of your angelic voice, sorrow intermingled within the harmonies. Fleeting moments of vulnerability pierced through your singing, manifesting as delicate sobs that fell like gentle raindrops upon the wolf's fur, leaving trails of dampness upon its noble countenance. Unbeknownst to you, your tears mingled with the wolf's fur, almost as if nature itself recognized and sought to console the raw emotion that poured forth from your very soul.

In this mystical union of song and empathy, time itself seemed to stand still, as if enraptured by the depths of emotion unfolding before it. The wolf, moved by your voice and touched by your tears, stood there, immobile, as if held in a trance-like state, its piercing gaze locked onto you.

In this profound instance of connection, as you poured forth your melody like a cascading waterfall, the wolf's eyes, reflecting the shimmering moonlight, revealed a glimmer of understanding. It seemed as if the creature had consumed not just the song, but the very essence and passion within, recognizing the raw vulnerability and unfiltered emotion that flowed from the depths of your being.

" Cast away your old face,

Let go of your spite…

With this mask I'll ask

To borrow your light... "

As he ferociously pounced at you, your once-drowsy eyes were jolted with a sudden surge of adrenaline, forcing them to instantly flutter open. Slowly but surely, you found yourself in an intriguingly ethereal realm, akin to a fantastical dream unfurling before your very eyes. It was within this surreal landscape that the majestic Hyrule castle loomed in the distance, its grand silhouette casting an awe-inspiring shadow over the surroundings. Gradually, you rose to your feet, feeling a potent mix of both curiosity and trepidation coursing through your veins.

As you turned around, your gaze fixated on a skeletal figure that stood before you, its presence commanding and filled with an air of mystery. The ghoulish being was adorned in intricately crafted armor, with each bone encased in thick, plated layers that revealed the passage of time and countless battles fought. This haunting sight stirred an overwhelming wave of emotions within you, causing hot tears to flow freely down your cheeks. The juxtaposition of fragility and strength, beauty and decay, adorned this enigmatic guardian in an aura of tragic elegance.

Driven by an instinctive mixture of fear and longing, you found yourself propelled forward, your heart pounding fiercely within your chest. With an almost desperate urgency, your body collided with his bony embrace, seeking solace and stability amidst this surreal encounter. Your trembling hands instinctively clutched onto the sturdy armor, desperate for a connection, as if hoping to merge your energies with this stalwart sentinel. In this poignant moment, your hands served as a lifeline, tightly gripping the metallic shield that protected the fragile essence beneath.

" Link! " Your desperate cry resonated through the silent air, a mix of sorrow and longing. Tears dripped down your cheeks as you clung onto his weathered armor, your grip tightening as if trying to hold onto a fleeting memory. The weight of his absence pressed heavily against your heart, causing soft sobs to escape your quivering lips. His touch, even if imagined, brought solace to your broken soul, his fingers delicately caressing the strands of your hair.

And then, like a balm to your wounded spirit, his voice enveloped you with affection.

" Hello, Dearest, " he spoke, his smile radiating warmth as he pulled you closer into his ethereal embrace. The overwhelming flood of emotions made it impossible for you to contain your tears, but in his arms, you felt safe and understood.

" Dearest, you must find a way to move forward, " his voice resonated, his arms encircling you in a protective stance. The words, though well-intentioned, clashed with the fear that gripped your heart. The idea of letting someone else in, vulnerable to the possibility of heartbreak, seemed unbearable. Despite the comfort his words provided, the path to opening your heart again felt treacherous and uncertain.

As if sensing your internal struggle, he gently explained the purpose behind his plea.

" Your healing is intertwined with the wellbeing of my descendant's heart, Dearest, " he revealed, his voice tinged with a mix of wisdom and tenderness. His lips brushed against your forehead, leaving a lingering kiss of reassurance. Before you could fully process his words and the weight they held, a blinding light engulfed your vision, engulfing you in a cocoon of brilliance.

As you gradually opened your eyes, you realized that the familiar surroundings of the forest had been replaced by the comforting ambiance of a warm and cozy home. The tranquility and sense of security that enveloped you in this unexpected abode were nothing short of remarkable. As you gathered your thoughts and tried to make sense of your situation, you gingerly lifted yourself off the soft bed that cradled your weary body.

However, just as you were beginning to explore your unfamiliar surroundings, a sudden and unexpected movement jolted you out of your reverie. Startled, you let out an inadvertent squeal, losing your balance in the process and ending up on the floor. In that bewildering moment, a face appeared before you, causing your heart to leap in your chest.

" Shit! Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you, " the southern accents lilted in the stranger's voice as he quickly realized the effect of his abrupt appearance. With a sideways grin on his face, he explained, " I found ya in the Faron Forest unconscious, do ya remember how ya ended up there? "

As your eyes scanned the rest of the man standing before you, it became evident that he bore the unmistakable appearance of a Hylian. His untamed mane of dirty dark blonde hair framed a face that exuded a unique kind of rugged charm. Piercing oceanic eyes seemed to gaze deeply into your soul, and a subtle curiosity danced in their depths. Your gaze then shifted towards the attire he wore, which oddly juxtaposed the traditional Hylian garb with his own individualized modifications.

It was, however, a captivating necklace that effortlessly drew your attention like a magnet. Nestled within it was a crystal that seemed to emit an aura of dark power, its energy palpable even from a distance. The combination of the familiar green tunic and the alluring charm of the necklace left you curiously intrigued, pondering the circumstances that had brought you to this enigmatic encounter.

" I-I saw a golden wo-wolf, " you stammered, your voice trembling with uncertainty. As the words slipped from your lips, you could see the disbelief in his widened eyes. Feeling a sudden wave of vulnerability, you instinctively looked away, hoping to shield yourself from the doubt that lingered in the air.

But much to your surprise, instead of dismissing your encounter as a mere figment of your imagination, he probed further with a question that caught you off guard.

" Did he have a red eye? " he asked, his tone laced with genuine curiosity. It was as if a glimmer of recognition flickered in his eyes, intensifying your own astonishment.

With a small nod, you acknowledged that your description of the mysterious golden wolf matched his own perception. It was a validation you desperately needed, considering the overwhelming emotions that were welling up within you. The tears that had been threatening to spill finally escaped, cascading down your cheeks as you struggled to maintain composure.

Caught off guard by your sudden display of vulnerability, he became flustered, his voice betraying a hint of panic. " Crap, please don't cry! I didn't mean to make ya feel bad! " His words were filled with remorse, his concern evident as he grasped for an explanation that would ease your distress.

As you wiped the tears from your cheeks, your voice trembled with a mix of awe and confusion. " Yo-you're his descendant, aren't you...? " The realization hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over your emotions and leaving you breathless. The significance of the moment began to sink in as you grasped the connection between this man standing before you and the majestic golden wolf that had left such an indelible mark on your soul.

In that fragile moment, as tears continued to stream down your face, you finally comprehended the depth of what this encounter meant. The words that had initially escaped your lips now carried an even greater weight. Your husband's descendant, the embodiment of a lineage intertwined with the mythical creature you had encountered, stood before you. It was a convergence of worlds, a merging of past and present, filling the room with an undeniable sense of destiny.

" Someone left you broken hearted too, right....? "

As the weight of your question hung heavily in the air, you couldn't help but notice the sudden shift in his demeanor. His gaze, once filled with warmth and affection, now averted from your tear-stained face as if unable to bear the truth. The absence of that familiar glimmer in his eyes spoke volumes, confirming what your heart had long feared.

The weight of this revelation crashed into you like a tidal wave, shattering the walls of denial that you had built so carefully around your heart. Tears welled up in your eyes, a floodgate of emotions overwhelming your trembling form. It was a moment of heartbreaking realization, where the fragility of love had been laid bare before you.

In the midst of your anguish, he pulled you into his embrace without hesitation. His arms wrapped around you tightly, providing a semblance of solace amidst the chaos of your emotions. The fabric of his tunic pressed against your face, absorbing the traces of your tears, as you sought refuge in his comforting presence.

You clung to him desperately, your fingers clutching onto the fabric as if holding onto the last remnants of the life you had built together. Each sob that wracked your body felt like a release, as if exorcising the pain from the depths of your soul. In that moment, you were both a storm of raw emotions and a fleeting sanctuary, seeking refuge within each other's arms.

As you continued to cry, each tear mingling with the echoes of shattered trust, he held you closer. The silence between you seemed weighted with the unspoken words and shattered dreams, a poignant reminder of the love that now lay in ruins. But in that embrace, there was also a glimmer of strength and the promise of healing, as he silently vowed to support you through the storm that lay ahead.

And so, you wept together, finding solace in each other's vulnerability, as the beginning of a new chapter unfolded before you - one where the wounds would slowly mend, the broken pieces would be painstakingly pieced back together, and where the resilience of love would ultimately prevail.

A few hours had passed, and exhaustion had finally taken hold of you, causing you to rest against his warm body. The rhythm of his gentle snores provided a soothing lullaby, while your body remained tense even as you surrendered to sleep. The tears that had once streamed down your face had ceased, but the lingering evidence of their existence in the form of tear streaks marred your cheeks, tugging at the man's heartstrings. Witnessing your vulnerability and emotional turmoil during your conversation had been an eye-opener for him. He had come to realize just how deeply you loved your late husband, and the intensity of this love reverberated through his own being, almost as if his heart threatened to burst out of his chest.

The man's gaze lingered on your peaceful face, the weight of conflicted emotions settling heavily upon him. Gently, he carefully adjusted your sleeping form, tenderly tucking you into the bed and ensuring your comfort without disturbing your deep slumber. Stepping outside, he found himself drawn towards the tranquil presence of the nearby spring. There, amidst the darkness of the night sky, he wrestled with his own internal struggle. Falling for you, he admitted to himself, had become an undeniable reality. However, the circumstances surrounding your past and your unwavering affection for your late husband, who he had also come to know and respect as the person who had imparted his own sword skills, complicated matters further for him. Deep in thought, he settled by the spring, allowing the starry expanse above to provide solace and companionship as he reflected on the complexities of his feelings.

As he observed you speaking of your past relationship with your beloved husband, it became abundantly clear that you possessed an extraordinary depth of compassion within you. Your heartfelt words, filled with love and admiration for the man who was once known as the renowned hero of Time, resonated deeply with him. It was evident that the connection you shared with your husband ran far beyond what he had initially anticipated, touching the very core of your being.

Overwhelmed by the emotional intensity of the moment, he instinctively closed his eyes, seeking solace in the comfort of the surrounding silence. He reclined against the solid ground, feeling its stability beneath him as his weary eyelids gradually fluttered shut. The weight of your profound emotions lingered in the air, subtly coursing through his consciousness.

With each passing moment, the world seemed to fade away, until darkness enveloped everything. And then, as if summoned by the mysterious forces at play, his eyes flickered open once more. To his surprise, a sense of familiarity washed over him as he found himself sitting up, encountering the striking presence of a golden wolf before him.

In an instant, his heart skipped a beat as the wolf pounced on him, their connection unmistakable as he was transported into a familiar dreamlike realm. The sublime beauty of the scene unraveled before his eyes, revealing the ethereal majesty of Hyrule castle in the distance. The harmonious blend of the wolf's vibrant presence and the setting's serene atmosphere created an awe-inspiring tableau that captivated his senses.

Time stood still, as if frozen in a moment of perfect symmetry. The wolf's companionship, though enigmatic, brought a sense of profound comfort and familiarity, as if it belonged to a world intertwined with your own. It was in that divine intersection of love, recollections, and a subtle touch of destiny that he found himself, inexplicably drawn into this enthralling journey alongside you.

" Ah, once again our paths cross, " he greeted, a mix of surprise and familiarity evident in his voice. His eyes scanned Twilight and remarked, " It's clear you've encountered the reincarnation of my beloved spouse. And now, I have another quest, a task of great importance that I bestow upon you. "

Rising from his seat, Twilight watched as the skeleton delved deep into his satchel, finally retrieving a delicately crafted necklace. With a glimmer in his eye, he spoke, " I entrust you with this necklace, the very token of my affection meant for my spouse. And you should know that I bear no grudge if you happen to fall for them. "

Taking hold of the necklace, Twilight examined it carefully, a soft smile forming on his lips. The thoughtful nature of his departed husband warmed his heart, and he marveled at the aesthetic beauty of the fairy-shaped pendant, a gift bestowed upon him by the hero.

" O-Oh no, you misunderstand! " Twilight stammered, his cheeks flushing with a rosy hue. He could feel his heart pounding fiercely within his chest, a sensation he couldn't ignore. Despite his denial, he couldn't escape the truth that he was gradually falling for the person in question, even though their time together had been brief.

The skeleton listened, his expression wise and understanding, as Twilight hastily explained, " I may have just met them, and I assure you that my feelings haven't fully formed! It's merely a coincidence, nothing more. "

A mix of reassurance and wisdom shone in the skeleton's eyes as he replied, "Indeed, your connection may still be in its earliest stages, but believe me when I say that you hold the key to their healing." With a curt nod, he continued, expression somber, before an intense light enveloped Twilight, momentarily blinding him.

Twilight's tired eyes blinked open, fighting against the heaviness that threatened to pull him back into the depths of slumber. Slowly, he exerted effort to push his body up from the cold, hard ground beneath him. Gazing upwards, he noticed that the once vibrant blue sky had dissolved into a velvety blanket of darkness, indicating how late it had become.

Realizing it was time to make his way back home, Twilight embarked on a weary journey. Each step felt like an uphill battle against gravity, but his determination urged him forward. As he finally arrived at his doorstep, a comforting aroma wafted through the air, teasing his senses. His curiosity piqued, he cautiously ventured inside, scanning his surroundings.

When he finally arrived home, his senses were assaulted by mouth-watering scents wafting from the kitchen. Despite the late hour, there you were, diligently preparing a delicious midnight snack. The sight of you, your apron slightly askew and a gentle smile adorning your face, warmed Twilight's heart in a way he hadn't known before.

" Oh, you're back! " you exclaimed, your voice filled with genuine delight. " I hope you don't mind, I decided to make a midnight snack. Would you like some? " The sincerity in your question caused a faint blush to creep onto Twilight's cheeks. To have someone go to the trouble of cooking for him was a novel experience, one that filled him with a tender appreciation.

" Su-sure... " he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. As he prepared to settle down and savor the meal you had so thoughtfully prepared, a sudden realization jolted his memory. His encounter with the enigmatic golden wolf flooded back into his thoughts. In a rush of movement, he reached into his pocket, retrieving the small, delicate necklace that had been entrusted to him.

" I almost forgot, " Twilight exclaimed, his voice tinged with a mix of eagerness and trepidation.

" Your husband asked me to give this to you. " As the necklace landed in your open palms, the weight of its significance seemed to ripple through the room. The items that had previously occupied your hands fell to the floor, forgotten, as your gaze fixated on the necklace before you. Tears welled up, glistening in your eyes like fragile morning dew.

The overwhelming wave of emotion crashed over you, forcing your body to move before your mind could catch up. With unbridled joy and gratitude, you rushed forward, enveloping the hero tightly in a much-needed embrace. " Thank you... " you whispered, the words barely managing to escape the tight knot of emotions that had formed in your throat.

In that moment, amidst the warmth of home-cooked food and the tender connection shared between two souls, Twilight realized the true value of human connection. It wasn't just the physical sustenance that you had offered, but also the deep emotional nourishment that comes from knowing someone cares. And as you held each other tightly, basking in the solace of one another's presence, Twilight understood that the bonds formed in the darkest hours can often be the ones that shine the brightest.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, your bond with Twilight grew deeper and stronger. Each passing moment spent in his presence felt like a step towards dismantling the walls guarding your heart. And so, you made the bold decision to live with him for a while, a decision that he eagerly and wholeheartedly accepted.

Living together brought about a new phase in your relationship, one that involved a harmonious integration into Twilight's village. It didn't take long before you became acquainted with the local children, forming quick and genuine friendships with them. Their youthful energy and innocence were contagious, and you found yourself running around, playing with them, and experiencing pure joy.

All the while, Twilight observed you with a mesmerized gaze, his heart fluttering inside his chest. Your laughter acted as a soothing melody, turning the key that unlocked the hidden chambers of his emotions. His cheeks would flush with a soft blush whenever he watched you, his mind repeatedly drifting off into a realm of fond thoughts and affectionate daydreams.

Caught up in your enchanting presence, Twilight never expected Ilia to break the silence.

" You like them, don't cha? " Her voice jolted him out of his reverie, causing his body to jerk with surprise. The suddenness of her question made his face burn with embarrassment, and he stammered in his response, denying any romantic interest with a flustered " N-no! " Yet deep down, he knew that convincing Ilia, of all people, to believe his denial would be a truly arduous task. After all, she had been his friend since their tender years of childhood, and her intuition was astute.

" Why wouldn't you like them?! " Talo's enthusiastic voice suddenly intruded into the ongoing conversation, interrupting the trio. The rest of the children, sensing some excitement, hurried over to join them. Twilight's face turned an even deeper shade of red, feeling slightly embarrassed by the sudden attention and the accusations being made.

Beth, always the optimist, chimed in with a smile, " Yeah, they're so nice! Can't understand why anyone would dislike them. " Colin nodded in agreement, as they saw you as more than just a friend - you were like another parent figure to all of them, someone they loved and looked up to.

Colin further reiterated, " Yeah, they're like another parent to us. Always taking care of us and looking out for us! " It was true, Twilight couldn't deny the kindness and compassion you showed towards others, even in the face of rudeness or negativity. But amidst this shower of praise, a small seed of doubt sprouted in Twilight's mind.

Confusion taking over, Twilight finally voiced his thoughts, " Wait, where's _____? " The question lingered in the air, but before anyone could respond, Talo eagerly answered with a bright smile.

" Oh, they went to the ranch to see the goats! " It was a well-known fact that you had a fondness for the goats at the ranch.

Twilight couldn't help but smile too. The image of you eagerly feeding and interacting with the goats on the ranch flashed in his mind. It was a sight he had grown accustomed to seeing whenever you weren't with him. The goats had always held a special place in your heart, and visiting them was a cherished pastime.

Later that night, as the soft embrace of slumber found you, he found himself immersed in a sea of thoughts, unable to escape the lingering impact of today's encounter. It was a moment that had left an indelible mark on his heart, replaying over and over, like an ethereal melody. You, dear soul, were an embodiment of sweetness and kindness, your compassionate nature evident in every action and word. The trials and tribulations you had endured in the past seemed to have only made you stronger, forging a resolute spirit that refused to be submerged by the storms of life. Always there for others, a steady pillar of understanding, you possessed an extraordinary capacity to empathize and lend a helping hand.

And yet, amidst the tapestry of admiration that had woven itself around his heart, he couldn't deny the blossoming of his own emotions towards you. It was a gentle awakening, a tender flowering of affection that he had tried to suppress for fear of disrupting the harmony that existed between the two of you. Uncertainty gnawed at him like a persistent whisper, whispering doubts that mirrored his deepest fears. Would you reciprocate his burgeoning feelings? Could his love find a place within the fortress of your heart, already loyal to the irreplaceable hero of time, your deceased husband?

His desire to honor your memory and respect the sacred bond you shared with your late husband was unwavering. It permeated the deepest recesses of his soul, and he vowed to never betray that devotion. The last thing he wanted was to impose his own desires upon you, for your happiness and emotional well-being superseded any longing that coursed through his veins. In essence, your feelings, thoughts, and desires were his compass, guiding his every action and thought.

As he rested in the darkness of the night, thoughts raced through his mind. Contemplation enveloped him like a gentle mist, bringing forth a host of uncertainties that he grappled with. Would you, in all your compassionate splendor, ever consider granting another piece of your heart to someone new? Could he be that person, worthy of your love and affection? These questions danced within the chambers of his heart, intensifying every emotion he felt for you.

Patience became his watchword as he navigated the labyrinth of his own feelings, hoping that one day, the answers would reveal themselves. Until then, he would remain steadfast, ever ready to stand by your side, supporting you, cherishing you, and ensuring that your happiness remained at the forefront of his intentions.

The next day, just like every other day on the peaceful farm, you found yourself assisting Fado with his goats. The sun was shining brightly overhead as you gleefully fed the goats, finding joy in their adorable antics. Your laughter filled the air, a soft and melodic sound that reflected your genuine happiness.

However, your peace was momentarily interrupted by the sudden voice of Talo echoing from behind you. Startled, you jumped slightly, but soon realized it was none other than Talo, the energetic and lively child who always had a question or two up his sleeve.

With his signature exuberance, Talo eagerly exclaimed, " Hey _____! I've got a question for you! And, of course, I'm here for my daily dose of morning kisses! " Typical of Talo, he always demanded affection with his loud voice and overflowing energy.

Amused by the boy's liveliness, you chuckled softly, your eyes crinkling with warmth. Despite the inevitable chaos that Talo often brought, you couldn't help but appreciate his wholehearted enthusiasm. You happily obliged, pressing a gentle kiss onto his forehead, a gesture that had become a daily ritual between you and the children on the farm.

Each morning, you made it a point to give every child a tender kiss on the forehead, a simple yet meaningful act that conveyed your love and affection for them. It had become a routine, a way for you to not only show your love but also to strengthen the bonds you had formed with these children who had become an integral part of your life.

Gently brushing aside a strand of hair from Talo's face, you asked, " What's the question, Buddy? "

Talo's eyes sparkled mischievously as he leaned in close, unable to contain his excitement. His words tumbled out eagerly, " Do you like Mister Link?! He's always talking about you and how he would love to be with you!! "

As Talo's question hung in the air, the blush on your cheeks deepened to a rosy hue, a silent testament to the effect that his inquiry had on you. It wasn't just Talo's words that flustered you; it was also the swirling emotions within you that had been growing stronger with each passing day. Unbeknownst to anyone else, you found yourself inexplicably falling in love with Mister Link, the kind-hearted farmer who had captured your heart in the most unexpected way.

" U-uh, yea I do like him, kiddo, but don't tell him okay? " you stammered, your voice tinged with a soft blush. Admitting your feelings became a challenge, as you were torn between the emotions blossoming within you and your unwavering loyalty to your beloved husband. The conflicting thoughts swirled in your mind, leaving you unsure of how to proceed.

As Talo's innocent eyes sparkled with delight at your response, a wave of affection washed over you. There was something undeniably endearing about the way he ran off, his childhood excitement contagious. It was moments like these that made you think twice about your own feelings.

Shaking off the confusion, you redirected your focus to the tasks at hand. The goats, your cherished companions, awaited your care. With a sense of contentment, you lovingly tended to them, ensuring they were well fed and cared for. The rhythmic act of nurturing the animals brought a sense of tranquility, allowing you to momentarily escape the internal battle brewing within you.

With the goats contentedly fed, you gently guided them towards the safety and comfort of the barn. As the animals trotted alongside you, their hooves echoing in unison, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort in the routine. The familiarity of this daily routine provided solace, grounding you amidst the chaos of conflicting emotions.

In that moment, the barn became a sanctuary, a place where clarity found refuge. Amidst the rustling hay and the calming presence of the animals, you sought solace, hoping to untangle the web of emotions that entangled your heart.

You were at a crossroads, torn between the love you had for your husband and the undeniable connection you felt with Twilight. Each passing day brought a surge of conflicting emotions, making it impossible to escape the constant whirlwind in your mind.

As you lay in bed, the weight of your thoughts engulfed you. Images of the farmer's gentle touch and heartwarming laughter played out in your mind, reminding you of the comfort and happiness he brought to your life. But alongside these idyllic visions, a deep sense of guilt and betrayal took hold of your heart.

With each passing moment, the walls you had built around your emotions seemed to crumble in Twilight's presence. His understanding nature, genuine care, and the way he effortlessly made you feel heard and valued had shattered the barricades you once erected to protect your heart. It was as if Twilight possessed the power to unravel the fortress you had carefully constructed for years.

Your conflicted state reflected the intricate web of emotions entangling your being. Your heart yearned for the connection, the passion, and the excitement that Twilight brought into your life, yet your mind was clouded by the guilt of forsaking the promises made to your beloved husband.

Clutching the necklace that symbolized the eternal bond you shared with your husband, tears welled up in your eyes. The significance of the necklace weighed heavily on your conscience as doubts plagued your mind.

What lay ahead was uncertain. The path that once seemed so clear had become obscured by this newfound love. The road forked, leaving you to contemplate which direction would lead to fulfillment and ultimate happiness. The turmoil within your soul made it impossible to find an answer, leaving you helpless in the wake of conflicting desires.

With a heavy heart and a maelstrom of emotions, you pondered the choices that awaited you. It was a defining moment, where your actions would shape not only your own destiny but also the lives of the two men who held such significant places in your heart. The road ahead was clouded, its outcome unknown, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of uncertainty and fear.

In the midst of this internal struggle, you knew that whatever decision you made, it would come at a cost. The bonds of love had ensnared you, pulling you in different directions, leaving you grappling with your own convictions and desires.

What were you going to do? Only time would tell.

Several weeks had passed since the day you first laid eyes on your husband's descendant. Little did you know then that those weeks would turn into months, and eventually, a whole year had gone by. As time went on and you spent more and more moments together, you could sense the walls you had built around your delicate heart slowly crumbling. The connection between you and this farmer man grew stronger with each passing day.

On this particular day, you found yourself bathing Epona, the gentle creature that had become a close companion during your time in this new land. As you lovingly stroked her mane, a mischievous idea sparked in your mind. With a playful smirk, you cupped your hands, gathering water, and playfully splashed it on the farmer man's face. The sound of your laughter filled the air as you couldn't help but feel pure joy in that moment.

But to your surprise, the man, named Twilight, retaliated swiftly. With a gleam in his eyes, he tackled you into the water, provoking a delightful squeak of surprise to escape your lips. The two of you engaged in a playful battle, pushing and splashing each other with glee. As you managed to push him away momentarily, a mischievous glint remained in his eyes, fueling your anticipation for his next move. You playfully ran off, feeling the refreshing spring water embrace your every step.

Twilight, not one to back down from a challenge, chased after you, laughter erupting from both of you. In the midst of this carefree pursuit, he finally caught up, swiftly embracing you and once again guiding you into the water. Your bodies intertwined, laughter blending together, and the sight of his smiling face above you took your breath away. The water carrying away your playful struggles, leaving behind tender moments that words could hardly capture.

As you lay there with Twilight on top of you, you couldn't help but reflect on the journey that had brought you to this moment. What started as an accidental meeting had blossomed into something beautiful. And in the depth of that spring water, you knew that your heart had found a place of solace and sanctuary. Together, you two were immersed in a love that transcended time and space, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

In this unexpected moment, a surge of surprise and excitement coursed through your body, prompting you to emit an involuntary squeak. As your startled eyes glanced up, you found yourself in a rather compromising position. There he stood, with his hands skillfully pinning your wrists against the cool and grainy texture of the sand beneath you. The mere physical contact caused a rush of warmth to flood your face, making it glow like a vibrant beacon.

Yet, despite the initial shock, you couldn't help but lock eyes with him. His piercing blue orbs held an enchanting gaze that seemed to penetrate your very soul, completely captivating your attention. It was in this moment that you decided to take charge, to assert yourself in a daring and unexpected manner. Leaning up, you pressed your soft and trembling lips against his, an act that seemed to catch him off guard, his face instantly flooding with an intense blush.

A mischievous smirk danced across your lips as you felt the grip on your wrists loosen, giving you an opening to maneuver. With swift and nimble movements, you managed to skillfully reverse your positions. Now, perched atop his hips, you relished the newfound control that came with this sudden change. Your hands confidently grasped his wrists, firmly holding them in place, gently breaking the kiss in the process.

A playful exclamation escaped your lips, " I win~, " as you playfully teased him with a glimmer of triumph in your eyes. Inclining your body slightly, your noses nearly touched, creating an intimate proximity between you both. With a tender touch, you planted a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, savoring the sound of his soft chuckle that filled the air. It was in this sweet and affectionate moment that you truly comprehended the depth of your feelings for the farmer.

Slowly but surely, he had managed to break through the formidable walls that shielded your fragile heart, unveiling the vulnerability that lay dormant within.

" Did you not know about what happened between me and Midna? " The question made you shake your head, as you had previously inquired but the farmer was not yet willing to disclose that information to you.

" I encountered her right after being cursed by the twilight, she aided me during my imprisonment and proposed a bargain. She promised to assist my escape if I followed her commands. Without hesitation, I complied and as our adventure progressed, our bond strengthened. Gradually, I realized my emotions had deepened for her. She possessed such resilience and allure that my heart could not help but declare her as the one I loved.

Nevertheless, as I saw her walk onto the platform inside the mirror chamber at the end of our journey, I held onto the hope that I could still visit her while she guarded her kingdom. As we headed towards the mirror of Twilight, she displayed unusual behavior. Upon stepping onto the platform, she directed a tear falling from her eye towards the mirror, causing it to break. Before I could intervene, she stepped onto the platform and uttered, "Although I love you, Link, I need to prioritize my kingdom. I wish you nothing but the best." She vanished before my eyes, leaving me heartbroken, with any connection to her world now severed, the mirror shattered just like my heart... " As he reached the climax of his emotional narrative, tears streamed uncontrollably down his face, leaving wet trails on his cheeks. In the midst of his sorrow, his trembling hand instinctively clutched the delicate necklace resting against his chest. This seemingly insignificant artifact held immeasurable weight for him, as it symbolized the only remaining connection he had with his beloved.

After a few hours, you sat with Twilight near the spring, finally comprehending the meaning behind your husband's words.

Overwhelmed with concern and empathy, your brows furrowed, revealing the depth of your genuine care for him. With utmost tenderness, you delicately lifted his head, cradling his tear-stained cheeks in your warm palms. In a hushed and soothing voice, you assured him of your unwavering devotion.

" I will never abandon you, rancher. You mean everything to me, " you whispered earnestly.

His teary eyes met yours, searching for solace and sincerity amidst the turmoil in his heart. Seeking reassurance, he sought confirmation from you.

" Promise? " he choked out, his voice laced with fragility and vulnerability.

Your response was immediate, heartfelt, and filled with absolute conviction, intertwining your fates together.

" I promise you, rancher. Forever and always, " you vowed, your words serving as an unbreakable pact between two souls entwined. The gravity of your promise hung in the air, conveying the depth of your commitment as you sealed it with a lingering, tender kiss. In that moment, his arms instinctively encircled your waist, drawing you closer as your lips met in a passionate embrace, symbolizing the unbreakable bond that would endure the tests of time.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu four #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu sky #lu time #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu wild #lu wind #linked universe legend #linked universe four #linked universe sky #linked universe time #linked universe wild #linked universe warriors #linked universe wind #linked universe twilight #twilight princess #twilight princess link #loz oot #ocarina of time #ocarina of time link #linked universe fanfic #link x you #link x reader #linked universe imagine

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, on 13th January, 2017

Lord Snowdon, former husband to Princess Margaret and photographer,died at the age of 86

Brian May remembers

Sad to hear of the passing of Lord Snowdon. I can’t say I was his friend, though perhaps I would like to have been. We did spend a couple of days together as Queen (the rock group) and portrait photographer, and it was very memorable. I knew of Lord Snowdon from when I was quite small. As Anthony Armstrong Jones he had married the very glamorous Princess Margaret, in Westminster Abbey, in top level splendour, televised in colour (!) and celebrated throughout the land. Somehow it caught my imagination, gave me a thrill, to the point where I pasted a picture of the handsome couple in my personal photo album. It was a fairy-tale. Shy handsome commoner weds beautiful royal princess. Much later I realised that Tony Armstrong Jones, now Lord Snowdon, was a dedicated artist, a gentleman photographer in true Victorian style, and that his world had stayed quite separate from the Royal Family he had married into. I believe he had a Victorian sensibility in more than one way. A Gentleman, certainly, and a man of independent means, he did not need to take photographs to earn a living. It was his art. And in the details of his practice, too, he adhered to early traditions of photography. He believed that the essence of a sitter for a portrait was to be revealed only in natural light.

Well, this is what he told us, when the four of us found ourselves at his house, our mission being to find the elusive ‘Group Shot’ - a four-fold portrait of a Rock Band, for the cover of an album. Now this was around 1981, about 35 years ago. So the portrait of this session in my mind is a little faded. But Snowdon was a delightful, thoughtful, modest and gentle man, given to pausing to ponder, in his walking around the room, with a slight limp, a relic from a childhood illness, as he looked at us, planning his shoot.

I’m sure Roger has better recollections than I, but I seem to remember us sitting around a little awkwardly, sipping coffee, discussing what we were trying to achieve. I don’t believe we had any preconceptions at all … the four of us hadn’t had the chance to confer beforehand, and I think on this occasion we didn’t have a plan. We assumed that this accomplished photographer would bring a fresh approach. We’d done a lot of this kind of session, of course, over the years, notably with George Hurrell, iconic Hollywood portraitist, and Mick Rock, who had pulled off a very memorable diamond format four-shot on a black background, which not only graced the cover of our early album Queen II, but, brought to life, became the shot that everyone remembers from the Bohemian Rhapsody video some years later.

Snowdon told us that he didn’t want an overriding theme - he didn’t think we need to ‘try so hard’. He said he wanted us naturally filling the space, and he was absolutely insistent that the lighting would be natural too … only the daylight which pervaded his studio, again, Victorian style - more or less a glass-house. He would not use any artificial light. Now I may be wrong about this, but I seem to remember we talked so much and drank so much coffee, that time passed and the light started to fade. Anthony took some test shots on his large-format camera (no 35mm for him) and wasn’t happy. So he said something like … "I know what to do now, but we missed our slot. I’m not going to use studio lights - I want the quality of daylight in this shot. Can you come back tomorrow?” Strangely enough we could. And then it was all very quick. He took a few solo shots of us singly (I wonder where they are ?) And then went for the cover shot of the four of us. I think he only took a couple of dozen shots, very much like we’d seen Hurrell do. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he knew when it was in the bag - even though he couldn't verify that on the spot. The developing of the negative had to be done, and prints made, before anyone could see the result.

So we said our goodbyes and left - and … that was it. The picture we wanted arrived a couple of days later, and it was perfect for what we needed - nicely balanced in composition, with all of us looking quite decent; understated, a little formal, yet not stiff, and beautifully lit by Nature herself, with a little help from Lord Snowdon.

The album ? It was to become the biggest selling British album in History - Queen’s Greatest Hits.

We decided to mount the picture in an unusual way. Inspired by the first Superman Film, we skewed the photograph as if it were mounted flat on a piece of glass spinning through space. So our faces are distorted by perspective. Years later, for the re-issue for Universal Records, we decided to ‘undo’ that distortion, and on this cover you see Snowdon’s picture exactly as it was taken. Pure ! I like that version best. As Snowdon himself might have said … it wasn’t trying too hard.

You won’t find this stuff on Wikipedia, of course. In the anarchy of the Internet based information, anybody can contribute stuff as long as they are citing someone who said it previously ! So the entry as I just looked at it is a ripe mixture of fact and inaccuracies - they don’t even mention who took the cover photograph. Who will write history ? Well, certainly not me … with my memory weaving its own spells at this distance. But History was certainly made in those fleeting moments when we were privileged to enjoy the company of that fine gentleman, Snowdon

RIP

Bri - january 13, 2017

(source: brianmay.com)

#lord snodwon #photosession 1981 #1981 #queen greatest hits #freddie mercury #queen band #london #zanzibar #legend #queen #brian may #john deacon #freddiebulsara #roger taylor

[sebastians-niffler]

Define Unforgivable | Sebastian Sallow x GN Reader (REQUESTS ARE OPEN)

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR SEBASTIANS QUEST

Summary: After the ministry caught word of Solomon’s death, all eyes were on Sebastian. How were you going to save him from a life in Azkaban?

The air was damp. There was a stale smell alongside the chill in their air that made your spine shiver. You were alone, walking through the maze of corridors that filled the Ministry of Magic; papers flying in every which way towards offices, owls swooping inches overhead, the hustle and bustle of the busy daily commute put you on edge. Your eyes darted around to each sign that floated above its respective corridor until you found the one you were sent for - Courtroom Ten. Your hands inside your pockets had turned to clammy fists as you walked your way toward the elevator that would lead you to the place where your best friend; your lover would be tried for the murder of his uncle. You were called to the trial since you had been the only other one there, beside his sister Anne; for which reasons she declined to testify were apparent to you both.

You’ve always been aware of Sebastian’s dodgy moral compass from the day he introduced himself to you. For this reason, his actions, however clouded, were not entirely of surprise to you. In fact, you believed yourself to be just as guilty. You might not have been the one to cast the killing curse from your wand, but you were encouraging Sebastian from day one to do whatever he felt necessary to cure his sister- whom you yourself had come to love dearly. The recollection of the day flooded your mind as the elevator bell dinged to signify the opening of the doors. Find the relic, save Anne. It really was that simple. Now, you need to convince the entire ministry of that and save Sebastian from a life living as a lifeless corpse in Azkaban. As the elevator stopped at your floor after passing the Ministry of Mysteries floor. You stepped out, taking your hands from your coat pockets and shaking them out. Whether this was to shake away the memory or a self soothing technique you weren’t entirely sure.

The room was even colder than the corridors leading to it. A dark green and black marble wall covered the dome like room. Black risen stands on either side of a large black podium were lined with workers in red and black robes, signifying their rank amongst the others. Your eyes drifted around the room as you took your seat at the back of the courtroom, noticing artwork from wizards in years come and gone.

“Ladies and gentlemen-“ a booming voice spoke as they approached the podium. “Today, we gather to discuss the fate of one young wizard that broke wizarding law not only by using an unforgivable curse, but using it on their own family.” The judge's face was finally visible behind the podium, a short mustache belonging to an equally short man with peppered gray hair that poked out from the rim of his cap. “Bring in the boy.” The man spoke to the guards beside him as he retrieved papers from behind the podium.

Sebastian was dressed in a black and white striped jumpsuit that was three sizes too big for him, his excess fabric gathered around his feet causing him to trip as he walked in. The guards sat him down at a small wooden chair in the middle of the room, causing some chatter to be spread across the room. “State your name for the court, boy.” A quill and notepad had begun floating next to the man, scribbling frantically at each word that was uttered. “Sebastian Sallow, sir.” You could tell from Sebastians tone of voice that he had been crying prior to being ushered into the courtroom. Your heart sunk from the looks of him as tears began to well in your eyes. “And I presume you know why you are here?”

“I do, sir.” His hands were dry and cracking, knuckles covered in what could only be assumed as dried blood as he readjusted himself in the chair. “I have done something unforgivable and should be punished as such.” Before your mind could react, you stood from your chair and opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out but a soft sigh. You slowly sunk back into your chair, covering your hand over your mouth to contain the lump in your throat. “And if my records preceded me, you were not alone on this fateful day, am I correct?” The man looked in your direction, his blue eyes piercing into the fragile state of your being. “Correct, sir. Both my-“ Sebastian began, unsure of what choice of words would be most suitable for this situation. “Both my sister and my partner were there, sir.” Sebastian started, his head twisting just enough to catch a glimpse of you from his peripheral vision. “I would like to call the witness to the stand.” The man spoke as two of the guards approached you and ushered you to the middle of the room beside Sebastian, just far enough away that you couldn’t offer him a consoling hand on the shoulder.

“Let us cut to the chase, shall we? We all are very busy, you know.” The man shared his glances between you and Sebastian as he settled in his seat. “Sir, if I may-“ you finally looked at Sebastian and gave him a worrisome smile. “I know that the wizarding world has laws in place for circumstances such as these. However, I must say that the context leading up to this, albeit fateful, decision was not made in malice.” Your trembling hands found their way back out of your pockets and began to wring themselves in a soothing manner. “Sir, as I'm sure you’re very aware, Sebastian's sister is deathly ill. After losing his parents, could you possibly imagine how helpless it must feel to have to rationalize losing a sister on top of that?” Your eyes darted from Sebastian and back to the man behind the stand. “I could certainly imagine that being difficult to process, yes. Please, continue.” A quick smile spread to your lips as you felt the process was heading in a far better direction that you had anticipated. “Anne loves her brother dearly, as I'm sure you can imagine. They are all that each other has left, sir. The day I met Anne, the way that the two interact with each other was uplifting. After all of the hardship these two have faced, they still manage to bring out the best in each other.”

“How can you stand by idly and say that rubbish when she clearly wasn’t enough to uplift him to doing the right thing!” A voice shot from the back of the courtroom, earning some chatter amongst the crowd. “I’m not sure if you missed it when I said that Anne is deathly ill, she is not in any health to be reminding her brother of morally right and wrong.” You spat back, your tone harsher than you had anticipated; causing you to bite the tip of your tongue as you composed yourself. “I am equally as guilty as Sebastian is.” Sebastians head whipped around to see your face, your eyes unable to meet him for fear of falling apart. “Sir, from the first day I met Sebastian, I knew that he was a troublemaker. When you first attend Hogwarts, you typically have that assumption of Slytherins.” You joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere of the courtroom, even earning a few scuffs from around the room. “The thing that drew me to him was his unwavering loyalty to his sister. From the first trip to Hogsmeade where I even learned that she existed, I knew that he truly loves her and would stop at nothing to protect her. Your honor, this man-“ you choked out the trailing words as you finally looked down at Sebastian. “Is the bravest, determined and above all else; loving man I have ever had the pleasure to know.” A tear dropped from your cheek and trailed down to your chin before leaving a wet patch on your coat. “I asked him to learn the unforgivable spells. I asked him to teach me what he learned. I am the one that encouraged him to find the cryptic and go through with finding the relic to save Anne because Merlin be damned- I am not going to lose both my partner and best friend because we were trying to save a life.” Your cheeks began to flush with anger as you slowly approached the podium with a fire burning in your belly. “If you think for even a second that you will send that boy to Azkaban, you best take me too. I will not sit by complacently as you throw him away to rot for trying to save the only thing in this world that matters to him.” Your words began to sound more like an angry growl as your hands formed fists at your side. The guards began to walk up behind you until the man behind the podium held up his hand to call them off.

“When I was a boy, I was sorted into Slytherin.” The man stood from his podium and began to walk down the black staircase to the floor where you stood. “You were right, no matter if it hurts my pride to joke or not. We can get up to some mischief whether we intend to or not. Seems to follow all of us. Isn’t that right, Mr. Sallow?” The judge looked past you and to Sebastian who was nodding in agreement even though the current situation was confusing him. “I presume that, in the search for a cure for your sister, you took her to see an array of doctors before making such a rash decision to rely on something as flimsy as dark magic?” The judge walked right past you and to Sebastian who was shaking so nervously you thought he would slip out of the chair if he hadn’t been shackled to it. “Of course, sir. We are from Feldcroft and I took her to anyone that would see her from there to Pitt-Upon-Ford.” The man slowly nodded as he stepped down another step. “I feel it's safe to assume that your partner means a lot to you as well, yes?” Sebastian tried to lift his hands to grab yours but was cut short by the shackles. “Sir, they mean everything to me.” He spoke with a shaking agony in his voice. “And you, you must care for Mr.Sallow if you’re willing to support him in such a way as this.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in and nod as you slowly take a step backward towards Sebastian. “I would do anything for him, sir. He stood by me in my time of need, it is time for me to reciprocate.” The judge let out a snicker of annoyance as he stepped closer to you challengingly. “Then how about you take his place in Azkaban?” His words were shallow and short as he got closer and closer to you. “If it will clear him of all charges.” You whispered in a hushed tone, your chest heaving from your rapid breathing. “Take his restraints off.” The judge motioned his head towards Sebastian, causing the guards to move swiftly towards him and free him. Sebastian rolled his sore wrists as he stood from his chair and looked at you with desperate eyes.

“You can’t do this. I won't let you. I did what I did and none of it is your fault, do you hear me?” He cupped your face in his hands as his tears began to stream down his freckled cheeks. “I love you, Sebastian. Please take care of yourself and Anne. For me.” Your voice suddenly felt stronger, as if subconsciously you knew that it was your turn to be strong and let Sebastian fall apart. The guards quickly grabbed your wrists, placing them behind you as they attached the shackles to them. “I must admit, this is very admirable of you. To give yourself a death sentence to Azkaban so haphazardly.” Your anger was building as you adjusted your arms behind you. “Nothing like that at all, sir. Ever since that day, I have been thinking about how I was going to help Sebastian. How I would testify here today, how I would do anything to go back in time and do the entire day differently. I wished for so long that it had been me that casted the curse so that he wouldn't have to live with this burden. So now, I am getting what should have come to me a while ago. But don’t you dare think for one second that I didn’t think this through. I haven’t slept in months, I can’t eat or breathe knowing that the man I love is locked in a cell smaller than my bathroom with the worst things imaginable.” Your heart was beating so hard, you could feel it in your neck, choking you with every pump of blood through your body. The judge rolled his eyes as he walked his way back to the podium.

“So that’s it? You are just going to let an innocent human spend the rest of ther life in Azkaban? Are you mental?” Sebastian stood looking up at the man, his voice as unstable as his knees trying to hold him. Before another thought could cross his mind he held his arms out to the guards next to you. “Take me too. My sister won't speak with me after what I've done, and now you want to take the one thing I have left in this world?” He looked at the guards helplessly as he motioned his wrists toward them. “Didn’t you hear me? I said take me too! Ill die without them! Don’t you care? You have taken everything left from me!” Sebastian screamed at the guards as he fell to his knees, his hands hiding his sobbing from the courtroom. “That’s quite enough.” The man spoke loud enough for only the ones paying close attention could hear. “Mr.Sallow, I will admit that you have certainly faced your fair share of hardship. However, the unforgivable curses are named as such for this very reason. You cannot just use them whenever you please.” Sebastian lifted his head and looked at the man as he returned to his feet, the guards removing your shackles. You ran over to Sebastian and held him as tight as you could. “You showed us that you really do care for people. Especially the two most important that you have left. You proved that even in a moment of intense stress, thinking that you would be losing not only your freedom, but your partner, you did not react with malicious intent. You could’ve retrieved a wand and cursed any number of us if that was indeed your first initial reaction.” You buried your face deep into the crook of Sebastian's neck as you listened to the man speak. “We coordinate this effort with your partner to see how you would react at a moment's notice. It was actually their idea.” The judge forced a half smile as Sebastian wrapped his arms around your waist, still in a daze. “They knew that you wouldn’t hurt anyone. So they put themselves on the line for you. They said that if you did hurt any one, that we would take whatever measures necessary and they would take your place in Azkaban. However, I believed it worked in both favors here. So let me end with this-“ The judge stood up along with all of the others in the room. “Let this be a warning to you. Think before you act. And more importantly, remember what, or in your case who, is worth losing everything for. Please, take care of each other.”

====================

NOTES: Holy cow I was NOT expecting the niffler post to get so much love ;w; thank you so much! I have so many more ideas I want to work on, but if you have any requests please let me know! Thank you all again for your love! c:

#sebastian sallow hc #sebastian sallow​ x hufflepuff #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #azkaban #ominis x you #ominis gaunt #ominious #ominis x mc #ominis x oc #ominis x reader #hogwarts legacy #HL

[graveyard-gumbo]

caved in and started the joy of life challenge by @simelune with my dear friend @honeytoastie !

generation one: the baking extraordinaire

coco blythe 🍪 young adult, she/her

foodie, overachiever, perfectionist

aspiration: famous pastry chef

There was a warmth and coziness in rolling out dough, mixing up frosting, creating masterpieces with a piping bag. Most of your days are spent whipping up new creations in the kitchen, enjoying the smell of a delicious apple pie baking in the oven. You dream of having everyone know your name and saying "Their cupcakes are the best I've ever had!"

Coco glanced at the house before her, once her favorite place on earth that had held so many cherished moments. Now, it lay in ruin, a forsaken relic of the past. The recollections of her childhood summers surged through her mind as she stepped her foot back on the island—the soothing rhythm of ocean waves that greeted her every dawn and the aroma of freshly baked pastries that permeated the whole summer house as the 10-year-old Coco would return to the house, dripping with water, after an afternoon spent frolicking in the ocean.

It doesn't take much time before she's jolted back to reality and finds herself back on the tiny Piccola Luce island years after her beloved aunt—the island's former owner—tragically passed away.

After many summers well spent at the Piccola Luce summer house, Coco, inspired by her aunt’s love of baking (and the unlimited baked goods she was fed during her summer stay), enrolled at the culinary arts school. Turns out helping her aunt roll out the dough and create a masterpiece with a piping bag proved to be very much useful when she graduated top of her class and landed herself in the kitchen of a prestigious restaurant in San Myshuno.

However, her journey took an unexpected turn when she found herself dismissed from her job due to some workplace drama. Unfazed by this abrupt turn, Coco clung to what was left of her dream of becoming a famous pastry chef, yearning to share her delectable creations with the world. The enchanting summer house on the Piccola Luce island beckoned like a promising ray of light, a great place for her fresh start.

#the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 edit #ts4mm #ts4 screenshot #simblr #☆ : mine #tjolc #the joy of life challenge #🎞️ tjolc : gen 01 #coco blythe ┇she / her

[loretta-dont-you-oppress-me]

Donation to the Shutanic Temple

I have an announcement to make to Bildad, the Shuhite (midwife slash cobbler) high priest of the Shutanic temple aka @bil-daddy

As is well-known throughout history, this is one of the most important religious relics.

Exhibition Piece (fake)

In fact, I was there when this relic was consecrated:

And I can assure you there was a lot of turmoil and shenanigans as well as commotion and mischief! With the effect that:

(According to the recollection of the 1st witness)

(According to the 2nd witness' recollection)

To make a long story short: As it happens, this sandal is still in my possession. But it has seen better days.

And I would like to donate it to the @shutanictemple. If this donation is not acceptable, I would simply like to have it repaired. By the world's best shoemaker (who also lent a hand with my childlessness).

Praise be to the cobbler! Praise be to the midwife! Praise be to the high priest of the Shutanic temple! (all in one)

#shutanic temple #bildaddy #bildad the shuhite #good omens monthy python overload #monty python #good omens #life of brian #holy sandal #loretta's donation

[hlficlibrary]

Can you recommend vampire fics but not if they're like young, I don't want anything less than 500 years you know? Like ancient vampires? I just love that vibeee. The regalness and the high class aura. I hope this makes sense.

Hi, anon! So I hope you don't mind if it's just one of them that's an ancient vampire. There are a lot more fics where it's just one of them who is a vampire or one of them who is ancient. If you want fics where both are ancient vampires I can try and look for that if you send another ask.

Love Endless: Road to Recollection by wubwubnparmaham

The year is 1973, and eighteen-year-old Louis Tomlinson is perhaps the gayest teen to ever grace the gloomy, hateful town of Fortwright, Idaho. He has a best friend, Niall, a kindhearted music teacher, and his mother on his side, and everyone else is endlessly trying to kill him.

All signs pointed to his life playing out in much the same way it always had, and he was trying his best to come to terms with that.

But the course of that life changed forever when he found the mansion. A notoriously haunted mansion hidden deep within the forests of his tiny blip of a town, it sucked him in and then never let him go.

After discovering the mansion was less abandoned than he'd previously thought, he is now left with the most riveting mystery of a lifetime, each new finding leaving him with more questions. Who is this elusive owner, and why won't they show themselves? Why is there a set of journals in the same handwriting that span over centuries? Who could ever explain owning assumedly authentic ancient Roman garments and relics of the French Revolution in the comfort of their own home? Why in the world is there a padlock on the refrigerator...and who the hell is Alexander?

Among the Humans by thecheshirepussycat / @the-cheshire-pussy-cat

A gothic, modern day vampire romance between a young human named Louis Tomlinson, and Harry Styles, ancient vampire and gentleman.

Creatures of the night come with more trouble than they wish to make it seem.

As Cold as a Whisper by panda_bear21

Harry did not turn around to face Louis yet and Louis’ body screamed at him to take the opportunity and run. Run until he couldn’t anymore, until his lungs collapsed out of breath and he was either safe and away or caught back in Harry’s gaze. Harry turned then, and his eyes were darker than the heavens and just as green as the haunting woods surrounding them, entrapping Louis. Focused, and clear. Louis' heart rattled in his ribcage, shaking, wanting to escape his unmoving body. Harry walked closer and Louis’ eyes stayed on him, breath leaving in a sharp exhale when Harry bent down to touch his face.

A fairy tale au where people in Louis' village are disappearing and Louis is married off to uphold a centuries long agreement.

I Love The Very Blood Of You by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10

“I don’t like him …” Harry muttered, fiddling with the string at the waistband of his jogging bottoms that had definitely seen better days. “I love him, Zayn. I’m in love with Louis. With a vampire.”

He looked up just in time to see a small smile on Anne’s face, and she reached out with a hopeful look. Harry couldn’t resist, and put his large hand in hers, letting her squeeze him for a moment.

“I could tell there was love between you,” she confessed softly, a light blush on her cheeks. “When I met you, I knew you were smitten with each other. I won’t pretend it doesn’t make me nervous, but … I can’t tell you who you can and can’t love, sweetheart.”

A vampire. A human. A broken arrangement. A love long since forbidden. Hunted by hate. Destined.

#ask #anon #ficrec #minificrecs #vampire #vampireharry #vampirelouis #lovelarry10 #pandabear21 #thecheshirepussycat #wubwubnparmaham

[invested-in-your-future]

For a show whose premise uses inspirations from (and homages to) various fairytales and myths, the show doesn't really explore the concept at all, does it?

For example, we are told the tale of what happened with the two gods and then (in spite of calling it "the lost fable) instantly reassured that this is 110% truth and exactly as it happened. The same is true with the Maidens myth and that's just...ultra-dumb and a huge missed opportunity?

The show is quick to throw random surface-level references to fairytales and myths, but is not really interested on actually exploring the concept, in spite of the supposed protagonist being inspired by the said fairytales (yes I am ignoring the absolute nonsense use of it in Ever After right now and even Ever After's dumb use of it seems to miss the point).

What does the concept of folk tales being passed down from generation to generation mean to the story and it's characters? Can you always trust the narrator of the stories being told? What is the intent behind the many myths and legends that exist and does the said intent still remain or have the stories changed and gained life of their own as time passes?

RWBY as an idea should absolutely be about playing around with that kind of ambiguity.

The idea of gaining inspiration from legends and fairytales because of how our imagination perceives them and then the possibility of sheer disappointment that comes with the truth.

Why should every myth characters learn be true? Why should their recollections of specific events and people in their past be exact and truthful?

Part of journey to adulthood is about uncertainty, about challenging your ideas and worldview as you learn and see more than before and the world you live in slowly opens up.

V3 literally ended with the world opening up for the characters and them being thrown into different environments than before, while also being shaken to the core and unsure of themselves.

So where's the actual challenge? Where's re-evaluating of what they believe in? Where are the ideas and truths that challenge what they think of others and of themselves? Did they re-evaluate their goals and ideals? Or even the concept of what a huntsman/huntress is?

Not really. Yang stays angry and plays exact same role, Blake gets to regurgitate the exact same rhetoric without answer as before, Weiss gets to be nostalgic about how her grandpa was The Good Capitalist and Ruby gets to learn how changing or questioning herself is wrong and evil. The show is so quick to reassure the leads that they can't possibly be wrong, that there's no real growth involved.

Wouldn't it be a lot more interesting to see Ruby struggle with the idea of being A Hero/Huntress and the lack of clear-cut good-and-evil in the world?

Wouldn't it be a lot more interesting to see Weiss rose-tinted perception of her family history be put to the test?

Wouldn't it be a lot more interesting to see Blake's motivations and inconsistencies/hypocrisy within them be explored?

Wouldn't it be a lot more interesting to see Yang actually look inward, face her emotions and worries and actually find a path forward she can take?

Wouldn't it be a lot more interesting to have characters actually question the motivations and truths of the world around them instead of being told the Definitive Past History via Plot Narration McGuffin Relic? Wouldn't it be more interesting to see characters try to reconcile conflicting tales of ancient past that DON'T match together at all? And characters having to question the motivations and goals of various characters arriving at different conclusions with the information they have?

#rwby #rwde

[songbirdsanctuary]

Safe Space, part 5: Red and Blue

Part of a HermitCraft au read the rest to understand.

Part 5/??

Warnings: Panic attack, almost self-harm

Word count: 1,121

Grian sat in silence, his gaze fixed upon the contents of the blue sulker box laid out before him. The weight of unexpected emotions pressed heavily upon his chest, threatening to overwhelm him. He hadn't intended to open this particular box, yet here he was, confronted with memories he had long sought to bury.

His eyes lingered on each item with a mixture of sorrow and regret. There lay a pair of red and blue headphones, once cherished by someone dear to him, now silent and forgotten. Beside them rested an old blue t-shirt, its fabric worn and faded. A piece of broken glass caught his attention next, the shard glinting in the dim light.

But it was the sight of the bloody pocket knife that seized his heart with a vice-like grip. His fingers trembled as he reached for it, the metal cool against his skin. It was a relic of darker days, a symbol of violence and desperation. The blade, once sharp and gleaming, now dulled and stained with rust, bore witness to a past he could never fully escape.

He traced the outline of the knife with a heavy sigh, memories flooding his mind like a torrential downpour. Each nick and scratch told a story of its own, a narrative of pain and regret etched into its very being. Yet, amidst the chaos of his thoughts, one truth remained painfully clear – he had never wielded this knife in self-defense.

In that moment of quiet reflection, Grian found himself grappling with the weight of his own actions, the choices that had led him down that path. And as he stared into the abyss of his own soul.

Something within him shattered into irreparable fragments, as if a dam had burst within his soul. He crumpled, collapsing onto the unforgiving wooden floor, consumed by a deluge of emotions. Waves of anguish, sorrow, and despair cascaded over him, each wave crashing against the fragile walls he had erected around his heart. As tears streamed down his face, he found himself enveloped in the suffocating grip of his own grief.

In a feeble attempt to shield himself from the onslaught of pain, he instinctively curled his wings around his trembling form, seeking solace in the only refuge he had left. His wings, once symbols of freedom and strength, now served as a fragile barrier between him and the world that seemed intent on tearing him apart.

“Grian?” The sound of his name, spoken with concern, pierced through the haze of his anguish. He lifted his head, eyes swollen and red, to meet the gaze of Iskall. Panic surged within him at the thought of being seen in such a vulnerable state. No, he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone witnessing him like this.

As Iskall cautiously approached, his hand extended in a gesture of concern, Grian's panic intensified. His heart raced, and a surge of adrenaline propelled him into action. Without a moment's hesitation, he unfurled his wings and launched himself into the air, the frantic beating of his wings propelling him forward with reckless abandon. In his frenzied flight, he narrowly avoided colliding with the walls, his mind consumed by the overwhelming need to escape.

Turning sharply in mid-air, Grian fled from the scene, desperate to put as much distance as possible between himself and the source of his turmoil. Yet, amidst the chaos of his emotions, a flicker of lucidity emerged—a distant recollection of the Safe Room he and Mumbo had painstakingly constructed for moments just like this.

With newfound purpose, he altered his course once more, streaking through the sky with unwavering determination. The memory of safety and sanctuary spurred him onward, each beat of his wings driving him closer to the haven he sought.

Arriving at Mumbo's base, Grian landed with a sense of urgency, wasting no time as he sprinted towards the door of the Safe Room. With a forceful swing, he flung it open, the heavy door reverberating with the impact as it slammed shut behind him.

Seeking solace in the comforting embrace of the room, Grian collapsed onto the bed, its surface adorned with layers of soft blankets and an array of plush toys. Clutching a green dragon plush tightly to his chest, he surrendered to the overwhelming weight of his emotions, tears flowing freely as he curled up amidst the warmth and familiarity of his makeshift refuge.

Exhausted from the tumultuous journey of his heart and mind, Grian succumbed to the solace of sleep, his troubled dreams enveloping him in a temporary respite from the pain that had engulfed him.

.

.

As he gradually emerged from the depths of sleep, the disorientation that enveloped him was palpable, like a thick fog obscuring his senses. For a fleeting moment, the world around him seemed alien, unfamiliar, until the fragments of memory pieced themselves together, revealing the source of his unease—a haunting echo of the panic attack that had seized him. Tears welled up once more, a testament to the raw intensity of his emotions.

With trembling limbs, he rose from the confines of his bed, the weight of exhaustion dragging at his every movement. Navigating the brightly lit room with faltering steps, he found himself drawn towards the bathroom, a refuge in the midst of turmoil. There, amidst the sterile gleam of porcelain and metal, he confronted his reflection, the twisted reflection of a soul in turmoil.

The rusted pocket knife lay nestled within his grasp, its edges dulled by neglect, a silent witness to the depths of his despair. For a heartbeat, he entertained the notion of surrender, of succumbing to the siren call of oblivion. He pressed the blade to his wrist, but he stopped himself.

“This isn’t good,” he murmured to himself, the words a mantra against the encroaching shadows.

With trembling hands, he closed the blade, a gesture of reluctant acquiescence to the whispers of reason that echoed within. Fleeing the suffocating confines of the bathroom, he sought solace amidst the disheveled sheets of his bed, a sanctuary in the storm.

Grasping the communicator that lay discarded amidst a sea of unread messages, he cast aside the clamor of the outside world, focusing his attention on a singular name—Mumbo. Fingers trembling with urgency, he typed out a plea for aid, a lifeline cast into the abyss of despair.

<Grian> Mumbo, can you come to the safe room?

As the message hung suspended in the digital ether, a glimmer of hope pierced the suffocating darkness that threatened to consume him whole. Moments stretched into eternity, each heartbeat a drumbeat of anticipation, until finally, salvation arrived in the form of a single response.

<Mumbo Jumbo> Of course, I’m on my way.

#hermitblr #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitfic #hermitcraft #safe space au #grian #mumbo jumbo

[merrysithmas]

@ atla showrunners

id really like a show not about Aang (but Aang can be in it as a very minor-type character, along with Kuzon etc) that focuses on Air Nomad characters and culture before they were exterminated by genocide. so we can see the vibrancy and beauty of Air Nation culture at its peak, untouched. (maybe young Gyatso could be the MC - i mean you have to be pretty boss to get tasked with training the Avatar)

in The Headband seeing Aang's joyful dance party enliven the rigid and suppressed Fire Nation children was so delightful and really makes you see how disadvantaged the world is without the influence of Air culture

plus, seeing what Aang lost would make the og ATLA (at this point in time) even more poignant since we as the audience never saw the Air Nation in its heyday and only know of it by hearsay and/or Aang's muddled & strained recollections in ATLA. even in Korra we don't get much info into any recovery of its relics or culture

i think this would be a good avenue for a story set in the past

#atla #aang #kuzon #monk gyatso #maybe young Gyatso can be the focus i mean you had to have been pretty boss to get tasked w training the avatar #bryke

[wolfylady]

Remnants

Summary: Unable to sleep, they go and confront the phantom that haunts their fragmented mind.

Rating: MATURE

Warnings: Smut, abusive undertones

Pairing: Gender-neutral Dark Urge/Durge x Enver Gortash (Mentions of Durge/Astarion/Halsin)

Word Count: 1,735

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a while since the Necrotic Labrartoty and even longer since Durge had glanced at the scroll they'd found there. 

On nights when sleep was impossible, they would steal away, reading and rereading the passage, each time feeling the creeping tendrils of familiarity intertwining with the sheer horror of the revelation. It was their own hand that had penned these dark intentions, their own thoughts twisted and corrupted by the influence of their divine heritage.

"...Forgive me, Father, for I cannot help but admire the Chosen of your sworn foe: Enver Gortash's genius will take us far, but fear not - those of Bane always fall to the same folly: they cannot see the beauty of obliteration. The Absolute hoax will garner false love from our new slaves, but once I've built a large enough army, I will use our hold upon the Absolute's slaves to begin this vile world's end.

I can see the path through Gortash's brilliant plan. Gortash, Ketheric, and I will seize the Netherese relics that control the Crown and then use the Crown to command the illithid Grand Design. The Dead Three, age-old foes and our dire patrons, will be bosom friends for a time.

Father, you created me to be the last soul alive. When the time is right, and my power is assured, I will slaughter Gortash and Ketheric upon your altar, where I myself hope to die when the world itself is gasping its last.

At the end of this all, Father, there will be not a single creature living. Everyone will die. Everyone will die for YOU. I will make you proud…"

Durge's mind echoed with the words. A puzzle of their past slowly took form as they discovered more of who they'd been. Durge was created and crafted for a much darker purpose than they had ever imagined, but which explained the haze of red that threatened to consume them.  

One thing became crystal clear: Gortash was the root of their inner turmoil, then and now.

A tiny flame of defiance flickered in their heart. Durge refused to be a puppet manipulated by their divine progenitor. They were determined to forge their own path, carve their own destiny, and resist the darkness that threatened to consume them. 

Despite the shadow of their past self, Durge longed to know themselves once more, and only one person knew who that was.

Under the cover of darkness, Durge waited until the soft sounds of sleep filled the camp. Ignoring the gnawing guilt as they slip away from the warmth of their partners' embrace. Ignoring the gentle pull of Halsin's comforting presence and the cool touch of Astarion's hand, Durge's mind was consumed by a singular purpose: to confront Enver Gortash.

Guided by fragments of recollection, Durge navigated the shadows of Baldur's Gate, their footsteps barely making a sound as they entered Gortash's private chamber. The air was thick with anticipation, every heartbeat echoing in Durge's ears as they approached the door.

With trembling hands, Durge pushed the door open, revealing the dimly lit room. Gortash sat at a desk, his back to Durge as if he knew they were coming.

"Darling," he turned towards them, a sly twinkle in his eye. His voice was like velvet, smooth and seductive, sending shivers down their spine as he spoke. "I've been waiting for you. You're a day late, but I can forgive you."

There was no fear in Gortash's eyes, only a sense of anticipation, as if he knew the depths of Durge's heartache and welcomed it with open arms.

Durge's heart raced as they stepped further into the room, their gaze never leaving Gortash. Memories, both painful and intoxicating, flooded their mind as they struggled to find the words to express the tumultuous emotions raging within them.

"Why did you do it?" Durge finally managed to choke out, their voice barely above a whisper yet filled with raw emotion.

Gortash stood, his expression unreadable. "Do what, my dear?" he asked, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

The air crackled with tension; their body ridged with a mixture of anger, confusion, and desire. The dim light cast eerie shadows across the room.

"You know what I'm talking about," Durge insisted, their voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "You toyed with me, manipulated me, knowing I'd seek you out. Why?"

Gortash regarded them with a cool detachment, his gaze piercing through the darkness. "Ah, my dear Durge," he replied, his voice dripping with honeyed charm. "You misunderstand; I am not the villain Karlach painted me as my love."

Durge recoiled at the mention of love, the word carrying a crushing weight. "Love?" they scoffed, disbelief coloring their tone. "You call what we did love? You used me, manipulated me for your own twisted desires."

Gortash's lips curled into a snarl. "Is that what you believe? Perhaps you have yet to remember the truth of our connection."

Durge's fists clenched at their sides, their resolve hardening with each passing moment. "I don't need your lies," they spat, their voice laced with venom. 

Gortash grabbed Durge, their strong, calloused hands tangling in Durge's hair, pulling them close. "What we had was never a lie," Gortash growled, his deep voice rumbling through Durge's body. "I may be Baane's chosen, but when we are together, there is no grand design, only us. Only this overwhelming feeling." He kissed them, their lips crashing together with an almost violent passion, and Durge drowned in him, fangs and claws tearing at one another's clothing.

Durge's body moved on autopilot, their mind consumed by a different kind of red haze, a primal need to dominate and possess Gortash. They slammed him onto the bed, their lips and teeth attacking his exposed skin with a ferocity that left both of them gasping for air.

Gortash's moans only fueled Durge's desire as they sucked at the blood that welled within the love bites they left in their wake. His hands clawed at Durge's back, leaving deep scratches that only served to heighten their pleasure.

Their bodies moved together in a frenzied dance, each touch igniting a fire within them that threatened to consume them both. Clothes were torn and discarded as they desperately sought more skin to mark and claim.

The familiar scent of blood and sweat filled the air, and the sweet sound of Gortash's voice. 

His moans and pleas only fueled Durge's hunger, driving them to sink their fangs deeper into his flesh. They reveled in the taste of his blood, the rush of power that surged through their veins.

As they reached the peak of their passion, Durge could feel their control slipping away, eyes glowing with that hunger. Gortash's grip on Durge's body tightened, almost to the point of pain. But Durge welcomed it, relished in the sharp sting that pushed them both closer to the edge.

In that moment, there was no past or future, only the present and the overwhelming need for one another. As they tumbled over the edge together, their bodies shuddering in ecstasy, they were lost in each other.

And when it was over, Durge collapsed on top of Gortash, panting and covered in a mixture of sweat and blood. For a moment, they lay there, their bodies entwined and their breaths syncing, their hearts beating as one.

But as passion gave way to exhaustion, reality began to creep back in. 

Durge couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

"Enver," they whispered, running their fingers through his sweat-drenched hair. "What are we doing?"

Gortash didn't answer immediately, instead choosing to pepper kisses along Durge's collarbone. But when he finally did look up at them, there was a glint of something in his eyes – something that made Durge's heart clench with longing.

"We're living in this moment," Gortash said softly. "And isn't that all that matters?"

Durge pulled away from Gortash, sighing heavily as they struggled to regain control of their thoughts. They pulled the remnants of their clothing back on.

"I can't do this anymore," they said finally, tears threatening to spill from their eyes. Durge realized that they had been searching for an explanation, a reason to justify their feelings. But the truth was that they loved Gortash, whether they wanted to admit it or not, but that love would only bring destruction.

Gortash reached out for them, but Durge stepped back out of reach. "Please," he pleaded. Durge wanted to believe in this connection, to bury themselves in this feeling and ignore everything else – but deep down, they knew it couldn't last forever.

 "No, I can't keep going back and forth between hating you and wanting you," Durge shook their head, their voice barely audible. "I need to find my own path, away from all of this darkness. I can't let you pull me back in." Gortash's expression hardened, a hint of betrayal hiding behind his eyes. "I am not going to follow through with the plan," Durge whispered. "I will destroy the Netherbrain and protect Baldur's Gate."

Shadows fell across Gortash's face, his voice soft and emotionless. "Very well."

Before they could respond, there was a loud knock at the door followed by a Banites booming voice. "Gortash!" They shouted. "You are needed at the foundry!"

Gortash let out a heavy sigh before getting up from the bed and quickly throwing on some clothes.

For a moment, they looked at one another, the air now heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

As Durge retreated from Gortash's grasp, they couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for what they had just done. But they also knew that they couldn't go back to the way things were, not without endangering their own sanity.

As they made their way back to their own camp, Durge took a moment to bathe and wash away the remnants of their love. They knew that they would always carry a piece of Gortash with them, but they also knew that they needed to move forward and forge their own path.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

wolfYLady: This unexpectedly became a series of snippets. I love Durge and Gortash.

If you liked what you read, please comment, I am always looking for new ideas and appreciate the support.

Part 1 - Part 2

#bg3 #fanfic #fanfiction #romance #durge bg3 #durgetash #dark urge x gortash #gortash x durge #enver gortash #bg3 gortash #fantasy #angsty smut #heartbreak #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fandom #bg3ficfeb

[thefirstknife]

Help my raid team believes with all their heart that nezarec was a guardian at some point in the lore. For my sanity I need you to explain this to me

I don't know where they got that from tbh. Genuinely interested to know what are their arguments.

Nezarec played his part and died before Guardians existed and remained inactive until the raid. Outside of influencing people through the sheer Darkness and power that come from his body, he has not been really alive until now. The raid cutscene says that he was accidentally "revived" by the Traveler's terraform beam since his body was in the Pyramid hit by the beam. He didn't become a Guardian though nor was he one before.

We have confirmation that he is a really old alien creature by the virtue of him being initiated into disciplehood by Rhulk, probably long before anyone on Earth existed. We also got it confirmed that he heavily influenced the Psions which is also something that happened ages ago before any Guardian existed.

This raid also confirmed that he was killed by Savathun during the Collapse and his Pyramid crashed on the Moon. Guardians did not exist then. Pretty much his first interaction with anything Guardian related is this raid. An interesting thing that was also said in the raid is that Nezarec has no clue what was happening to his body parts, not directly in any way. His lines from the raid:

Really intriguing since he was obviously able to influence people with relics and his merchandise in general, as well as had people who swore on being his followers for generations, but he does not appear to have any recollection of this. He asks us if anyone suffered from his pieces and wonders if we could tell him who took them.

He does have knowledge of us and of our past, but speaks of us as not a group he belongs to:

Here he has a whole thing about praising for us being efficient at killing and asking us if we enjoy the final screams of our enemies and so on.

He basically died before Guardians were created and he stayed dead since, with people picking on his body parts. The Hunter chest piece from the raid set also shows that:

So he wasn't secretly rezed as a Guardian after dying or something. Also, I've only seen him in the post-raid cutscene so far, but if that thing has ever been a Guardian, we would've known. He's literally an alien from before Guardians existed. His remaining body parts have apparently been collected by the Witness and placed in a tomb which is in the raid:

He definitely influenced people, possibly even humans. There's a few other unknowns as well, but nothing to imply that he was ever a Guardian. He influenced a Guardian, which can be seen in the Titan raid set. Maybe they confused it with him? The people named in the raid gear are his acolytes, spreading his cult or whatever it would be called.

There's an unknown person in the new lore that apparently has the "scent" and "vibe" as Nezarec and that goes around recruiting acolytes and apparently looks like a normal human. Possibly someone passing down the knowledge about him. This person claims to have had the knowledge of Nezarec run in his family and carries an old tome with information about him, probably the Of Hated Nezarec text because it's quoted in the raid sparrow. It also does not appear that acolytes become acolytes entirely willingly. Description of the tome and how it's about "an ancient being":

Unless I'm seriously misreading something or there's a huge reveal in the raid boss fight where he tells us he's been a Guardian and shows his Ghost, I don't think that makes any sense. Purely timeline wise. He obviously wasn't a human on the account of literally being an alien and predating humanity. And he's been dead (also uses the word "trapped") ever since Savathun put him in timeout.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #lightfall #lightfall spoilers #the root of nightmares raid #nezarec #ask

[play-now-my-lord]

The idea of there being a "veil" between the immanent world and the immaterial world is a relic of Cartesian dualism that haunts the attempts by moderns to understand premodern spirituality like an unquiet ghost.

One time my mother's family was out of town and she and my dad were fooling around - you gotta picture they're, like, what, 20? thereabouts. Young, stupid kids, playing like the world belongs to them because they've got a moment of privacy. My mom sees something out of the corner of her eye and my dad jumps and screams.

They're telling me this story, they're in their thirties, I'm a teenager. They leave out the parts where they're fooling around. (They tell me about that later, when they're in their forties, I'm in my twenties.) They tell me, what they startle at is my grandpa, my mom's dad, walking down the stairs, like he did that time of night every Saturday night when he was done with grading papers for the week.

My grandfather, they explain, was a punctual man. And I know my grandfather, he is. Obsessive-compulsive, everyone says he is. Maybe that, maybe autism, maybe it's a spectrum. But every night at around seven PM he walks down the stairs and sees what's up with his family.

Of course, at the time he was in Oregon and they were in Nevada. This is the most ordinary thing in the world to both of them; he left some trace of energy behind that they could see.

When I picture that story, I picture them as they were when my mental image of them all soldified - roughly the time they told me the story, early 2000s. my parents about the age I am now, my grandpa in his early 60s. When they tell it, they're picturing themselves as kids, my grandpa in his early 40s. He's been dead for years, but I can still hold forth on what he was like. So can they. His apparent appearance on the stairs, a ghost before his time, would have been sometime in the early 80s. I wasn't born yet, and I know about it. I can picture it, although for all I know my exact recollection of the arrangement of furniture is wrong.

We're all there, in superposition, my parents, my grandfather, and I. The stairwell is a place we all know, and a place none of us will be again.

Someday they will be gone, the way he is, and someday I will be gone, the way all people are gone, and someday these words will be gone. But I wrote them down, like my grandfather descended the stairs, day after day, like my parents startled, like they told me about startling. I do not mean to propose there is no explanation for such things; I don't even mean to propose the event must have happened as my parents recall it. But all these recollections and whatever event did transpire itself linger over each other, superimposed.

Anyway, the veil is fake, the dead endure in us, and Descartes rots - in an orphans' graveyard, in Saint-Germain, and in a museum, all at once, like a man and his ghost descending the same staircase.