#Restore hearing clarity

[hearlossremidy]

Discover the Hidden Cause of Ear Ringing (and the Simple Solution You Need)

Are you tired of the constant ringing in your ears? For months or even years, you might have tried every remedy under the sun to restore peace to your mind and health to your ears, only to find little or no relief. The frustration can feel endless, but what if I told you there’s a surprising root cause of tinnitus that most remedies fail to address?

Here’s a hint: it has nothing to do with loud noises or genetics.

According to groundbreaking new research, the persistent ringing, buzzing, or whooshing sounds in your ears aren’t just a problem with your hearing. The issue actually originates deeper—inside your brain. Yes, you read that right. Scientists have identified a hidden “wire” that carries electrical signals and sound data from your ear cells directly to your brain. When this wire is damaged, it disrupts the sound signals, leaving you with the maddening noise we know as tinnitus.

Why Traditional Remedies Fail

If you’ve been trying hearing aids, sound therapies, or other over-the-counter solutions, you’re likely just treating the symptoms. The real problem lies in the damaged communication between your ears and your brain. Think of it as a frayed cable: no matter how much you fiddle with the speaker, it won’t work properly until the cable is fixed. That’s exactly why so many people struggle to find lasting relief.

The Breakthrough Solution

Fortunately, there’s good news. Researchers have discovered a way to nourish, regenerate, and rebuild this critical “wire,” restoring harmony between your ears and your brain. By addressing the problem at its core, this breakthrough approach doesn’t just mask the symptoms but actually helps eliminate them altogether.

Imagine waking up to silence. No more ringing. No more frustration. Just the peace you’ve been craving for so long. It’s possible, and it’s easier than you might think.

The Simple Step to Take Right Now

Thousands of people are already finding relief with this revolutionary method, and you can too. Whether your tinnitus started due to aging, stress, or unknown reasons, this solution could be your ticket to reclaiming your life.

Curious to learn more? Don’t let the ringing hold you back any longer. Click here now to discover how this breakthrough solution can help you finally experience the quiet, peaceful life you deserve.

Why Wait? Take Control Today

Tinnitus isn’t just an annoyance—it can affect your sleep, focus, and overall quality of life. But you don’t have to live with it forever. By targeting the root cause, you can break free from the cycle of frustration and find true relief.

Every second you wait is another moment of unnecessary suffering. Don’t let tinnitus control your life. Take action now and click here to unlock the secret to silence. The solution is waiting for you—all you have to do is take the first step.

[aeth-eris]

★  moon  signs  |  how  they  express  empathy  ★

★  aries  moon:  empathy  for  an  aries  moon  is  fierce  and  immediate,  like  rushing  into  a  burning  building  without  hesitation.  they  feel  others'  pain  as  a  call  to  action,  their  heart  igniting  with  a  need  to  protect,  defend,  or  inspire.  their  empathy  doesn’t  linger  in  quiet  reflection;  it’s  raw,  honest,  and  bold,  often  expressed  through  decisive  action.  they  show  up  when  it  matters  most,  offering  strength  and  courage  to  those  who  feel  small,  reminding  them  they  are  capable  of  overcoming  anything. ★

 ★  taurus  moon:  taurus  moon  empathy  feels  like  a  warm  blanket  wrapped  around  you  on  a  cold  night.  they  offer  comfort  through  presence,  creating  a  steady,  grounding  space  for  others  to  feel  safe.  their  empathy  is  tactile,  expressed  through  gentle  acts  of  care—a  shared  meal,  a  soothing  voice,  or  the  simple  act  of  staying  close.  they  don’t  rush  to  solve  or  fix;  instead,  they  hold  space  with  patience,  letting  you  know  you’re  valued  and  understood,  just  as  you  are. ★

 ★  gemini  moon:  gemini  moons  express  empathy  by  weaving  words  into  connection.  they  listen  with  curiosity,  their  heart  sparking  with  every  story  shared,  finding  the  threads  that  link  their  experiences  to  yours.  their  empathy  is  light  and  conversational,  making  you  laugh  through  tears  or  helping  you  reframe  pain  in  ways  that  feel  lighter.  they  may  not  dwell  in  the  depths,  but  they  bring  clarity  and  perspective,  reminding  you  that  life  is  full  of  possibilities  even  in  your  hardest  moments. ★

 ★  cancer  moon:  empathy  for  a  cancer  moon  is  an  ocean—vast,  deep,  and  all-encompassing.  they  intuitively  feel  the  emotions  of  others,  often  carrying  your  hurt  as  if  it  were  their  own.  their  empathy  is  nurturing,  like  a  mother  cradling  a  child,  offering  unconditional  love  and  protection.  they  instinctively  know  when  you  need  comfort,  whether  it’s  through  a  soft  hug,  a  kind  word,  or  simply  being  there.  their  heart  creates  a  safe  harbor  for  others,  a  place  where  feelings  can  be  honored  and  healed. ★

 ★  leo  moon:  leo  moons  express  empathy  like  sunlight  breaking  through  storm  clouds,  warm  and  affirming.  they  see  your  pain  and  immediately  want  to  remind  you  of  your  strength,  showering  you  with  encouragement  and  love.  their  empathy  comes  in  bold  gestures—a  compliment,  a  heartfelt  reminder  of  your  worth,  or  simply  standing  by  your  side  when  you  feel  alone.  they  lift  others  up  by  reflecting  their  light  back  to  them,  making  sure  you  know  you’re  seen,  valued,  and  deserving  of  joy. ★

 ★  virgo  moon:  virgo  moon  empathy  feels  like  someone  noticing  the  little  things  you  didn’t  realize  you  needed.  their  care  is  quiet  and  precise,  often  expressed  through  practical  help—a  problem  solved,  a  task  taken  off  your  plate,  or  advice  that’s  exactly  what  you  needed  to  hear.  they  show  empathy  by  making  your  life  easier,  creating  order  in  the  chaos.  their  love  is  thoughtful  and  grounded,  reminding  you  that  healing  often  starts  in  the  small,  overlooked  moments  of  care. ★

 ★  libra  moon:  libra  moons  express  empathy  through  harmony,  seeking  to  restore  balance  when  others  are  weighed  down.  they  listen  with  open  hearts,  reflecting  your  emotions  with  kindness  and  understanding.  their  empathy  is  graceful,  often  expressed  through  acts  of  mediation  or  support,  helping  you  see  beauty  even  in  struggle.  they  make  you  feel  heard  and  validated,  as  if  your  feelings  belong  in  the  grander  picture  of  connection.  their  love  is  the  soft  hand  that  guides  you  toward  peace  when  the  world  feels  overwhelming. ★

 ★  scorpio  moon:  scorpio  moon  empathy  is  intense  and  transformative,  like  staring  into  the  depths  of  a  deep,  unshaken  well.  they  feel  your  pain  as  if  it  were  their  own,  diving  fearlessly  into  your  darkness  to  help  you  find  your  way  out.  their  empathy  is  raw  and  profound,  unafraid  to  sit  with  the  most  painful  truths.  they  offer  their  presence  as  a  sanctuary  for  vulnerability,  holding  space  for  emotions  others  shy  away  from.  their  love  is  a  reminder  that  even  in  your  darkest  moments,  you  are  never  alone. ★

 ★  sagittarius  moon:  sagittarius  moons  express  empathy  through  optimism,  offering  their  belief  in  your  strength  when  you’ve  forgotten  it.  they  encourage  you  to  see  the  bigger  picture,  helping  you  reframe  struggles  as  opportunities  for  growth.  their  empathy  feels  like  a  warm  fire  on  a  cold  night,  comforting  but  also  igniting  hope.  they  may  crack  a  joke  to  lift  your  spirits  or  invite  you  to  explore  new  perspectives,  reminding  you  that  life  is  full  of  adventure  even  in  hardship.  their  love  is  an  open  road,  reminding  you  that  brighter  days  are  always  ahead. ★

 ★  capricorn  moon:  capricorn  moon  empathy  is  steady  and  unshakable,  like  a  mountain  offering  shelter  against  harsh  winds.  they  express  care  through  reliability,  stepping  in  with  quiet  strength  when  others  falter.  their  empathy  may  not  be  overly  emotional,  but  it’s  deeply  practical—they’ll  help  you  build  stability  in  moments  of  chaos,  offering  guidance  and  structure.  their  love  is  a  reminder  that  you’re  not  alone  in  carrying  your  burdens,  that  there’s  always  someone  willing  to  share  the  weight.  their  presence  is  grounding,  a  constant  you  can  rely  on  no  matter  how  hard  things  get. ★

 ★  aquarius  moon:  aquarius  moons  express  empathy  with  clarity  and  vision,  seeing  solutions  where  others  only  see  problems.  their  care  is  intellectual,  offering  perspective  that  makes  your  struggles  feel  smaller  and  your  dreams  feel  closer.  they  may  not  sit  in  the  heaviness  of  emotions,  but  they’ll  inspire  you  to  rise  above  them,  reminding  you  of  the  bigger  picture.  their  love  feels  like  a  cool  breeze  on  a  sweltering  day—refreshing  and  unexpected,  pushing  you  to  think  differently.  their  empathy  is  a  light  in  the  distance,  guiding  you  toward  hope  when  you  feel  lost. ★

 ★  pisces  moon:  pisces  moon  empathy  is  boundless,  like  water  flowing  into  every  crack  and  crevice,  touching  places  no  one  else  can  reach.  they  feel  your  emotions  as  their  own,  often  carrying  them  without  hesitation  or  complaint.  their  care  is  soft  and  intuitive,  expressed  through  quiet  acts  of  kindness  and  unwavering  presence.  they  love  without  limits,  offering  compassion  that  feels  like  a  whispered  promise  of  understanding.  pisces  moons  remind  you  that  it’s  okay  to  feel  deeply,  that  even  the  hardest  emotions  hold  beauty.  their  empathy  is  a  gentle  tide,  washing  over  you  with  healing  and  grace. ★

★ book a reading ★ ★ masterlist 1 ★ ★ masterlist 2 ★

[xuchiya]

"stuck in this fairytale" || choi san || series || epilogue

| genre: prince! san. fluff. angst. adventure | mentions: cursing. | here's the first part

masterlist

ONE WEEK LATER...

The restoration of the kingdoms progressed slowly but steadily, like new shoots emerging from scorched earth. The JeoKang Kingdom began to bloom once more. Trees that had stood lifeless for years now swayed with vibrant leaves, their branches alive with the chatter of birds. The gardens, once barren, now boasted bubbling fountains and fragrant blooms. The people returned to their homes, their laughter echoing through the cobblestone streets. The kingdom itself seemed reborn, its essence transformed into something stronger, brighter, and filled with hope.

In the Jung Kingdom, trade flourished anew. After years of isolation, the gates stood wide open, welcoming merchants and travelers alike. Caravans loaded with exotic goods and medicinal herbs moved back and forth between kingdoms, rekindling alliances and friendships. The air carried the mingling scents of spices, dried flowers, and the faint metallic tang of coins exchanging hands—a testament to a future built on collaboration.

The Kim Kingdom radiated wisdom. Scholars filled its libraries, their heads bent over ancient tomes as they sought solutions for tomorrow's challenges. The people, guided by the kingdom’s sage leadership, found balance in their lives. “A wise man hears one word but understands two,” the saying went, and the wisdom of the Kim Kingdom was reflected not only in its governance but in the clarity of mind and health it brought to its people.

Finally, there was the Choi Kingdom. Though it would never be as it once was, it had begun to rebuild into something even better. The scars left by the curse remained, but they were now markers of resilience and growth.

As sunlight beams into your room, the morning light pours in through tall windows, illuminating the large bookshelf that San had personally commissioned for you. The golden rays danced over the polished wood, casting soft shadows that seemed to breathe life into the quiet stillness of the room. Your fingers brushed along the spines of the books, feeling the smooth leather covers and gilded titles, their intricate designs catching the light. Each book held a story, a piece of history, or a dream of what could be, their very presence filling the air with a comforting sense of possibility.

A small smile graced your lips as your eyes scanned the thick and thin pages of the books. There was something endlessly satisfying about the sight of books stacked neatly on shelves. It brought you back to childhood, where you often imagined yourself in a world of endless stories and knowledge. The scene reminded you of Belle—a kindred spirit and bookworm—who had tamed a beast and found love in the unlikeliest of places.

The thought drew a chuckle from you until it suddenly shifted to San, and your heart faltered for a moment, thudding loudly in your chest. Your smile faded into a look of surprise as a blush crept to your cheeks. It had been almost a week since San had come to your chamber at the JeoKang palace. His visits had been frequent enough to draw attention, though he had insisted on coming to "see the hero of the kingdoms."

You had tried to play off his visits as casual gestures of gratitude, but you couldn’t ignore the glances, the subtle warmth in his voice, or the way his expression softened when his gaze lingered on you. The hero of the kingdoms—those were his words—but through the eyes of their distant cousins, Yunho and Yeosang, you suspected there might be more to it.

You exhaled a shaky breath, trying to steady the sudden flutter in your chest. Your hand paused as it touched one particular book, different from the rest. The leather was worn, and its edges frayed, as though it had been read countless times. It was the book—the one that had brought you to this world. Your breath hitched as you pulled it from the shelf and sat on the edge of your bed, the weight of it settling in your lap.

The pages flipped easily beneath your fingertips, each one carrying the familiar scent of old parchment. You stopped at the place where you had left a bookmark weeks ago—the story of the first dragons created by Brigid, the goddess. Your heart tightened as you read, memories of recent events flooding your mind. The parallels between the tale and what you had experienced were too surreal to ignore.

One illustration caught your attention. A woman stood surrounded by towering shelves of books, her face streaked with tears. The library seemed otherworldly, filled with a golden light that softened its grand, infinite expanse. The details tugged at your memory, though you couldn’t quite place why.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

“Miss Brigid, Sir San is looking for you,” Seonghwa’s voice came from the doorway, his tone polite but warm.

You glanced at him, nodding as you reluctantly closed the book, though your fingers itched to read more. It had been so long since you and San had spoken—his days consumed by the kingdom’s restoration. This was your chance to reconnect.

“Is he alright?” you asked as you returned the book to its place on the shelf.

Seonghwa chuckled, his tone light. “More than alright. He’s been asking for you all morning.”

Walking down the hallway with Seonghwa, you noticed the subtle shifts in the castle—the softened tension in the air, the gentle smiles exchanged between guards and servants. It felt lighter, more alive, than it had a week ago.

Seonghwa cleared his throat, glancing at you. “I should thank you for everything you’ve done. Not just for us but for everyone.”

You looked up at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “There’s no need to thank me, Seonghwa.”

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you with an intensity that made you pause. “You haven’t just saved the princes’ lives. You’ve rewritten the story itself.”

Your brow furrowed as his words settled in. “The story?”

Seonghwa’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You have saved these people from meeting their doom, Miss Brigid. And afterall, you are a descendant of Brigid, aren’t you? The goddess who created the dragons, the keeper of balance and the justice maker. This was more than fate—it was your history unfolding before you.”

The realization struck like lightning. You had been so consumed by lifting the curse and uncovering the Choi family’s truths that you had barely thought about your own origins. Being a descendant. Now, pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Your mother’s fiery red hair that you thought was just natural orange hair, your father’s dark locks, and the inexplicable warmth you had always felt within yourself—all signs you had overlooked.

“I... I am,” you murmured, your voice wavering as the truth took root in your mind.

Seonghwa tilted his head, studying you. “You seem troubled. Have you been struggling to make sense of your past?”

You looked away, the weight of your thoughts bearing down on you. “It’s not that. It’s... I thought this was just a story. A fairytale. But it feels so real, like it’s more than that.”

Seonghwa regarded you for a long moment before stepping closer, his expression soft. “Sometimes, the truth hides in plain sight, dressed as a story to protect itself. But you have lived it, Brigid. You are part of it, and it is part of you.”

Your breath caught as his words resonated deeply. Was this world truly a reflection of your past, a mirror held up to show you who you were meant to be? Or was it something more?

“Is this... real?” you asked, your voice a whisper laden with emotion.

Seonghwa’s brows knit together, his own uncertainty mirrored in his eyes. “Does it matter if it is? What matters is what you do with it now.”

Before you could respond, the heavy oak doors of San’s office creaked open, revealing him standing at his desk. His gaze lifted, meeting yours, and for the first time in weeks, his expression softened into something almost resembling peace. And in that moment, surrounded by restored kingdoms and unanswered questions, you realized that whether this was a fairytale or reality, it was yours to shape.

When San let you into his office, your eyes immediately landed on the familiar faces gathered around a round table—Wooyoung, Yunho, Yeosang, Hongjoong, and Noella, with Mingi casually leaning against the wall in the corner. He waved enthusiastically, and you waved back, utterly perplexed by the sudden reunion.

“Are we recreating the Knights of the Round Table?” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood. While most of them looked at you in confusion, Wooyoung snorted, his laughter breaking the tension. Even after everything you'd been through in recent weeks—no, months— Wooyoung felt light as your sense of humor hadn’t abandoned you entirely. The sound of your humor warmed him. 

“No,” San answered, his tone both amused and serious, “but Yunho found something important.”

Curiosity piqued, you allowed San to guide you to the table, his hand on the small of your back. Your cheeks burning and your body sparks. It was when you reached the table, your gaze shifted to the centerpiece—a book surrounded by scattered papers, their edges slightly curled.

“What is it?” you asked, eyes darting between the group. Yeosang stepped forward, a small grin tugging at his lips. “It’s about your world and ours. Apparently, your world has a portal that connects to this one—and to others as well. These portals can only be accessed by those who share a connection to the universe.”

You squinted, trying to wrap your head around the revelation. “Which means…?”

Yunho stepped in, handing you a picture. Your breath caught in your throat the moment you saw it—it was the very illustration Aven had shown you back at your mother’s house.

“This…” you began, your voice trembling with shock. “This is the one Aven gave me.”

Yunho nodded. “Aven wasn’t just a guide in your world. He was Brigid’s messenger. Whenever her lover, the True King Jeoyoung, was away, she sent Aven to deliver messages and look out for him.” He gestured to the picture in your hands. It also brought you back to how you met Aven— the zoo’s eagle. It didn’t leave your shoulder, many of the zookeepers lured him with various snacks and foods but to their avail, it stayed on your shoulder. 

“Aven isn’t just the only one who stayed on your side.” Wooyoung whispers. You look at him, confused as to what he is pertaining to. He gave you another illustration yet it was just a polaroid. It was you, Wooyoung and Jongho.

Your eyes burned from the tears and your nose clogged at the sudden rush of emotions. Wooyoung had told everyone about Jongho’s sacrifice. That night, every kingdom assembled and lit up lanterns to offer their gratitude to Jongho. You couldn’t sleep that night because of what happened, Jongho is someone you hold dearly in your heart. That little bear that stood lost in the crowd. 

“Jongho was Aven in my universe.” You whisper, your thumb brushing his gummy smile. Jongho stays beside you whenever Wooyoung is occupied with his works. Jongho keeps you safe whenever you return from your night classes to your dorm. Even if San had come along the scene, he still kept himself present in your eyes.

San noticed your shaking shoulders and pulled you to his chest, “He is written amongst the stars. The one you point at night.”

Now, the illustration seemed even clearer. Your eyes focused on the image—a castle, a dragon, and two figures standing side by side. Brigid and King Jeoyoung. A small bright star at the far right corner of the illustration.

“That’s not you, nerd,” Wooyoung chimed in, breaking the solemn silence. He smirked as you rolled up the paper and smacked him lightly on the head. “I know it’s not me,” you retorted, voice slightly muffled from the clogged nose as you try not to suppress a smile. “But my grandma and I do look alike.”

“Of course she’s your grandma!” Wooyoung countered, grabbing a nearby paper, rolling it up, and swatting you back. The room collectively groaned as the two of you bickered although relief from your light impact on the topic about Jongho. San stepped between you, snatching the makeshift weapons from your hands. “Enough. Brigid, you’re uncovering answers about your past. And Wooyoung, focus!”

“You two seriously…” Seonghwa muttered, shaking his head.

You turned back to Yunho, an apologetic smile on your lips as he chuckled, shaking his head. You were eager to redirect the conversation. “So, you’re saying I traveled here because my great-grandmother was Brigid’s daughter?”

Yunho nodded solemnly. “Their story ended mysteriously, leaving few answers. But since you’re here…” He motioned for Hongjoong, who handed you a book.

“This,” Hongjoong said, his voice calm and steady, “was stored in our library. It’s written by your great-grandfather, recounting Brigid’s life and her legacy.”

Your fingers trembled as you took the book. The cover was worn but familiar, as though it had been waiting for you.

“So… I can go back and forth between this world and mine?” you asked hesitantly, the initial thought of having two worlds that you can travel as portals existed. An awkward silence fell over the room. Most of them avoided your gaze, save for Wooyoung, who, ever confident, spoke up. “Even if you’re connected to both, a life you belong to will stay rooted where it is.”

Your heart sank at his words, looking around to confirm what Wooyoung said. “So… I can’t?”

Mingi shook his head slowly, the solemn expression on his face making the reality even harder to bear. The weight of the revelation hit you—this might be the last time you’d see this world, this other version of yourself, or the people who had become so dear to you.

“Each universe holds its own imperfections,” Noella said softly, her smile tinged with bittersweet understanding. “Not everything works out the way we want, but each world functions as it should. Pain, imperfection—they make the universe what it is.”

Her words lingered in your mind as the group fell quiet. Then Wooyoung’s voice broke the silence. “Nerdy girl…” You turned to him, noticing the uncharacteristic seriousness in his expression.

“You might have the chance to go home,” Your heart lifted slightly at his words, “We’re going home?!” you said, optimism lacing your voice.

But Wooyoung didn’t smile back. His solemnity deepened as he shook his head. “No… “ His eyes look around as though the final news or whatever vibe you failed to notice from the beginning dawns at you as this meeting was not all about your family tree line.

Your face pale as you look at Wooyoung. You studied his face, searching for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was quiet conviction. His breath hitch as another set of fresh salty tears were in the corner of your eyes. His nose had burned from the upcoming tears, “I-I’m not coming with you.”

His words stopped you cold. “What? What do you mean, Woo?”

“This is my home,” he said firmly, gesturing around him. “This is where I belong.”

Wooyoung sighed, the weight of his decision evident in his eyes. “It may sound selfish, but I grew to love your world—being a normal person, a college student, hosting parties, making friends. But my only reason for being there was my mission. Hongjoong gave me a vision, a glimpse of what he saw. The answers were in your universe, and I had to find them. Now that I have finished my part and you save us all… I have no more reasons to go back.”

A lump formed in your throat as his words sank in. The time you’d spent together, the bond you’d built—it was all coming to an end.

“Wooyoung…” you began, your voice trembling, but he cut you off with a small, sad smile.

“I’ll miss you nerdy girl.” You swallowed hard, nodding as tears blurred your vision. Saying goodbye to this world, to him, felt like losing a piece of yourself. But as you glanced around the room at the faces you’d come to love, you realized that your journey had been about more than lifting a curse or uncovering your past. It was about discovering your strength, your place, and your connection to both worlds.

“Even if I leave,” you said softly, “I’ll carry all of you with me.”

Wooyoung grinned through his own tears. “And we’ll always be here—rooted where we belong.”

As you clutched the book to your chest, you knew that no matter where you went, you’d never truly be apart from this world—or the people who had changed your life forever.

The meeting had ended on a solemn note, leaving you feeling as though the weight of the universe was pressing against your chest. As San walked you back to your room, you clutched the ancient book tightly. The leather cover felt cool under your fingertips, but the knowledge it held burned in your mind. Each step felt heavier, the reality of your situation sinking deeper with every stride.

You couldn’t help but think about the people you'd come to care for in this world—the bonds you'd formed, the laughter, the struggles, and the unexpected moments of peace. Would it all disappear the moment you stepped back into your own universe?

As you entered your room, you stopped in front of the bookshelf San had crafted for you during your time here. Its polished wood gleamed softly in the dim light, filled with books and trinkets from your adventures. Your fingers ghosted over the edges of the shelves as your vision blurred.

San lingered by the doorway, his arms crossed but his expression open, watching your hunched shoulders and faraway gaze. He hated seeing you like this. A part of him wanted to say something, to reassure you, but how could he? The reality was as cruel as it was undeniable—you belonged to another world, and no matter how connected you felt here, this wasn’t your home.

With a deep breath, he stepped inside. “Hey…” His voice was soft, almost hesitant.

You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his for a moment before you let yourself lean into his chest. His warmth grounded you, a temporary solace in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside. The steady beat of his heart was a contrast to the erratic rhythm of your own.

“I don’t want to leave,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

San rested his chin atop your head, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “I know,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to feel sad about leaving us. You’ll always carry a part of this with you.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tears clinging to your lashes. His hand came up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “Wooyoung said there are people who look exactly like all of us in your world,” He said, yet you shake your head in disagreement as a frown settles. “But it’s not the same. The life we’ve lived here... it’s different.”

San gave a small chuckle, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Then make a difference,” he said, tapping a finger gently between your brows to ease the frown forming there.

“What do you mean?”

His expression softened as he cupped your face, his thumbs lightly grazing your jaw. His gaze held yours, sending a shiver down your spine as heat rushed to your cheeks. “If you want things to change, you take the first step. Change begins with you. Whether here or in yours, the journey starts with one choice— it's yours to take and risk.”

The sincerity in his voice struck a chord deep within you. For a moment, the ache in your chest lightened. But the thought of leaving this world, leaving him, still clung to your heart like a vice.

“San…” you began, but the words caught in your throat. He smiled faintly, his hands lingering on your face. “Brigid,” he said softly, then paused. “Or should I call you by your real name?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to bring it up, especially now. The sound of your real name slipping from his lips made your heart flutter unexpectedly, and a small, playful smirk crept onto his face. The Choi San smirk—the same mischievous expression, from yours and this, he wore whenever he and Wooyoung teamed up to prank Jongho.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, despite yourself. “How do you always manage to make my heart race?”

“Because you already won my heart.”

Before you could say more, San’s gaze grew more intense, his hands steadying your face as he whispered your name again, this time with a reverence that made your breath catch. The space between you vanished as his lips pressed against yours in a kiss so soft, so full of unspoken emotions, that it left you dizzy.

Your hands instinctively found his wrists, your fingers curling gently as you gave in to the moment. The kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was a quiet exchange of everything you both couldn’t put into words. His touch was warm, grounding, yet bittersweet, as if he was memorizing this moment in case it had to be the last.

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as he let out a shaky breath. “No matter where you go,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, “you’ll always be a part of this world.”

“And... you’ll always have a place here.” He said as he guided your hand towards his beating chest. Both of your eyes locked once again. Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t solely from sadness. There was something else—a mixture of gratitude, love, and the faintest glimmer of hope.

“San…” you whispered, your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to spill over. He smiled softly, brushing his thumb along your cheek one last time before stepping back. “You’ll be okay,” he said gently, his voice tinged with the reluctance to let you go.

As he turned to leave, your hand ghostly reached out for him but pulled back, you clutched the book tighter to your chest, your gaze lingering on him. He turns around, “I’ll see you again, my sapphire.”  Until he disappeared down the hallway. Alone in your room, you let out a deep breath, feeling both the weight of the decision ahead and the comfort of knowing you wouldn’t face it alone—not truly.

For even if this chapter of your life was ending, the memories and connections you’d made would stay with you, guiding you through whatever came next. As new tears streaked down your cheeks, you whimpered softly, squinting against the bright light that suddenly enveloped you. Instinctively, you raised your arm to shield your eyes, but the brilliance was overwhelming. Closing your eyelids became your only refuge.

When the light began to fade, you slowly lowered your arm. For a moment, you lingered, dazed and unwilling to accept the quiet truth settling in your chest: the pain of parting. It felt like the weight of everything you’d experienced crashed down on you at once, leaving you hollow.

A voice suddenly broke through your haze.

“Oh? You’re here?—Hey, why are you crying?”

Startled, you turned toward the voice and froze as arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace. The scent of cologne tickled your nose, bringing with it a bittersweet comfort. When the person pulled away, holding you at arm’s length, their worried eyes scanned your tear-streaked face.

“I’ve been searching for you for the past two hours!” they said, frustration laced with concern.

You furrowed your brows, confusion swirling in your mind. Slowly, you glanced around, noticing the Victorian-style room was gone. In its place were the familiar colors of your university. The huge ceiling fan spun silently overhead, and the muffled hum of students echoed faintly in the background. You were surrounded by bookshelves, their spines a comforting reminder of the library you frequented.

Looking back at the person before you, your gaze settled on their worried eyes. A faint smile tugged at your lips despite the tears that refused to stop.

“I... I’m okay, Mingi” you whispered, the words as much for them as for yourself. It was at that moment, you totally forgot why you were standing there inside the library and why you have tear stains in your eyes.

Heck you don’t remember why you have a book about “Stuck in this fairytale” on your hand and the page was bookmarked to where two people share a moment and the last thing that guy said is, “I’ll see you again, my sapphire.”

The following weeks passed in a blur. Though life had returned to normal, a strange sense of déjà vu lingered in your heart. It was as if the world was nudging you, preparing you for something.

Yunho had burst inside the library, startling the students and the librarian shushing him as he sheepishly apologised and rushed towards you both worriedly after Mingi found you in that library, dishevelled and confused. At first they thought you were so immersed in the story because of the bookmark to the two people kissing.

But they weren’t expecting you to react in a way that is out of yourself. “I— I don’t know … I don’t even remember having this book.” You whisper as your finger traces the outlines of the said prince of the story. A tinge of familiarity tickles your brain yet you couldn’t place a finger on it.

 Both Mingi and Yunho stare at you confused and concerned as tears run down your cheeks. That day, they have to drag you to the nearest arcade place to distract you. It was successful despite the harsh winds of November hitting your face when you stepped out of the library. The wind was comforting even if it nips your skin, you look around as it just drapes around you in a warm way.

A week goes by and when you entered the university campus, Mingi had pushed you into joining the student council because of your steadfastness and stubbornness along with your fierce look. That was like weeks after your weird encounter inside the library. You knew about these two boys distracting you in whatever you were going through and you were thankful for that.

Back to where Mingi had written your name in the list of the student council. It was ridiculous at first because you weren’t that competitive but when you saw your opponents, it was like a sudden burst of fire or determination flared inside you. 

And that is where the first time you met Wooyoung. He is loud yet his voice is fierce and strong. It was during a heated student council meeting. He stood out immediately, his energy and charm commanding the room. He caught you watching him and gave you a grin that made you feel both seen and challenged. Something about him felt... familiar, though you couldn’t place why.

“Fire playing with fire does get you burned but hey … “ He sticks his hand out, a smile on his lips, “Friends?”

You chuckle, gripping his hand as you shake it gently, “Friends, Wooyoung.”

Months have passed and you, along with your new friends, Wooyoung and Yeosang— that you met during your Christmas break. He works part-time in a museum that your mother took you to. He works to explain the illustrations. It was that day when the museum wasn’t that busy as always and you found yourself wandering around the goddess area as your mother yaps on one of the statues with your aunt. 

“She looks like you.” A voice said. You turned and saw someone the same age as you, also staring at the illustration. If it were a different person, you would laugh and thank them politely but this person made your eyes widen and blush crept in your cheeks.

“I— Thank you?” He chuckles, turning to you. His side profile seems so perfect already but seeing his entire face plus the red spot on his cheek, it was that moment you have seen a statue alive. 

“I meant it to be true. She looks like you, the curls and the redness of your hair.” He explains. You return your gaze to the illustrations and to be exact, the guy was true. It did look like you in some angles that your eyes gaze a little too long. “She is Brigit, she’s a goddess of the hearth, forge, and sacred flame.” 

Nodding, yet your head tilted to the side when you noticed a creature behind her, it was something in your head that had been tickling you. Pointing, “Is that a dragon?”

He hums, “She gave birth to the first breathing dragons— actually before it was dragons, it was called …”

“Pseudodragons.” Your voice overlaps with his to which he finds shocking as he watches you stare with a frown on the illustrations. He walks up to you yet maintains the distance between you two, “It seems like you know more about this than I do …”

You turned to him, inside you were in confusion but there was a pull that this is going on the right path, “Perhaps … I do.” 

Senior year arrived with its relentless demands, and your role as head of the student council kept you busier than ever. And as soon as you mentioned bloody works, you were walking around the campus to find Wooyoung because he decided to ditch at the last minute.

Grumbling, you huff as you turn down the corner and approach the open area where students go around in finding their designated clubs. As you pass by a desk, Jongho raises his head to place a banner on their table which is the student council.

You weren’t quite aware of the new member of the student council after your senior— Seonghwa— gave his position to you as the head chief of the student council. Jongho has been part of the student council for quite some time during the Christmas break, immersed in his responsibilities when he notices you, looking lost but determined to find something or someone. Before he had a chance to offer help— it was you who approached him but in a different matter— you’d hurried over to him, grabbing his arm just in time to pull him out of harm’s way as one of the string lights hanging above came crashing down where he’d been standing.

The moment left him stunned, but you only brushed it off with a simple, “You’re not hurt, are you?” He nodded slowly, still processing what had just happened, while you let out a relieved sigh, you were about to speak when Wooyoung appeared behind you, tackling you with his usual playful energy. Jongho heard you laugh as Wooyoung’s arm draped around your shoulder, pinching his side in response to his antics and it sent calmness in his whirlwind mind.

“Oh Jongho! You met my friend here! This is your head chief—” You elbow Wooyoung playfully as you look at Jongho, sticking your hand out with a smile on your lips. 

“Nice to meet you Jongho.” When your hands clasp, an electricity zaps between you two. Both of you must have felt that electricity as you stared at each other with wide eyes. It was like something clicked in your mind that is yet to be known.

New Year’s came and went in a blur, and soon February arrived, bringing with it a campus draped in red hearts, pink ribbons, and mischievous little cupids seemingly floating over your head. The festive decorations felt like a personal affront as you groaned, dodging a massive bouquet of red roses that nearly hit you square in the face. A guy rounded the corner excitedly, oblivious to the near-collision as he hurried to surprise his girlfriend.

It wasn’t the romantic atmosphere itself that irked you—though, admittedly, it might have been a little of that. The endless barrage of chocolates, squeals, and hand-holding couples was grating.

"Seems like someone woke up on the wrong day," Yunho teased, leaning casually against the lockers with a knowing smirk. Beside him, Mingi, Wooyoung, and Jongho chuckled, clearly enjoying your irritation.

You crossed your arms and stopped in front of them, huffing dramatically. "Oh, hush! If I could abuse my position as head chief, I’d ban Valentine’s Day on this campus altogether."

Your indignation only made them laugh harder, and you retaliated by kicking off your shoe and playfully throwing it in their direction. Mingi barely dodged, holding his sides as he doubled over with laughter.

The moment was interrupted by Seonghwa, who appeared with a regal air, followed by Hongjoong. With a flourish, Hongjoong handed you a paper bouquet, while Seonghwa dramatically slung a glittering sash over your shoulders.

“Make way for the Queen of Hearts!” Seonghwa announced with a grin, drawing curious stares from passing students.

You blinked in surprise, looking down at the sash’s glittery letters spelling out the title. "Wait—what? Where’s this coming from?"

“Where’s the crown?!” Seonghwa called theatrically.

As if on cue, Yeosang appeared from the far end of the hall, carrying a delicate crown adorned with red and gold accents. He approached with his usual quiet confidence, gently placing it on your head and adjusting it until it was perfectly set.

“Perfect,” Yeosang said softly, stepping back with a satisfied nod.

The boys erupted in cheers, with Mingi and Wooyoung hyping you up so loudly it was impossible to hide your embarrassment. The attention from nearby students only made you retreat behind the paper bouquet, your cheeks burning.

“Alright, alright, let’s take it to the club room,” Hongjoong interjected, ever the responsible one, shooing the group toward a less crowded space.

As the group began moving, Wooyoung suddenly broke away, “You guys go ahead. I’ve got someone to meet!”

You furrowed your brows at his departure, curiosity sparking, but decided to let it go. You’d pry it out of him later, knowing Wooyoung couldn’t keep a secret for long. Back in the club room, Yeosang placed your crown, sash, and bouquet carefully on one of the tables before settling into a seat. His art and calligraphy classes kept him on the other side of the building most of the time, which explained why he often seemed like a rare guest among the group.

Seonghwa, always one to blend work with banter, perched himself on a table and gestured toward a stack of junior applications for the student council. “Head chief,” he began with mock seriousness, “what’s your verdict on the next batch of council hopefuls?”

You leaned on the edge of the table he sat on, scanning the neatly organized stack. "Honestly, it’s not just about their qualifications. It’s about their will and determination to balance the responsibilities of handling each club while keeping up with their studies."

Seonghwa nodded thoughtfully, his expression serious for a moment before a grin broke through. "You’ve been hanging around Hongjoong too much. That’s exactly what he’d say."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Being surrounded by this lively, supportive group had turned what could’ve been another Valentine’s Day to dread into something memorable.

As you were engrossed in the papers in your hands, Yunho let out a curious, amused sound that broke your focus. His sudden noise pulled your attention, and you turned to see him gazing out the window, his expression equal parts fascination and bewilderment.

“An eagle!” he exclaimed, pointing outside.

Your brows knitted together in confusion as you followed his gesture. Perched on one of the tree branches outside, a magnificent eagle sat perfectly still, its sharp eyes locked on the room. It didn’t move or flinch, even as the group began to stir around you.

“That’s odd,” you murmured, stepping closer to the window.

The boys crowded near the glass, each one squinting at the bird as if trying to decipher its intentions. You stood behind them, your curiosity piqued. The eagle’s presence felt deliberate, its intense gaze focused unwaveringly on all of you.

“Damn, this is creepy!” Mingi said, breaking the tense silence.

You chuckled softly, but your eyes remained fixed on the eagle. There was something about it—something strange and familiar. You let your gaze drift over its sleek feathers, its curved beak, and the way its piercing eyes seemed to follow your every move.

You tilted your head to the side, testing its reaction, and to your surprise, the eagle mirrored you, tilting its head in unison. A spark of unease fluttered in your chest, quickly replaced by a growing warmth. Your heart began to race, pounding harder with each passing second, as though something deep inside you had been stirred awake.

The room around you seemed to blur, your ears ringing faintly as an invisible force pulled you inward. Time slowed, and your surroundings melted away.

In a blink, you weren’t in the club room anymore.

You found yourself in a grand bedroom, lined with tall bookshelves that stretched toward a ceiling adorned with an intricate Victorian design. The faint scent of old parchment and polished wood filled the air, grounding you in the peculiar space. Your breath hitched as you took it in.

The room felt like a memory—something buried deep within you.

A soft creak broke the silence, drawing your gaze toward the door. Slowly, it swung open with an almost theatrical deliberation. Your pulse quickened, and you turned to face whoever, or whatever, was on the other side.

The sound of Wooyoung’s voice snapped you back to the present before you could make sense of the vision.

“Hey guys, I want you all to meet the newest member of our group,” Wooyoung announced, his voice tinged with excitement.

You blinked, disoriented but drawn to the scene unfolding before you. Wooyoung stepped aside to reveal a figure standing in the doorway.

He had striking red hair that seemed to glow under the sunlight streaming through the windows. Tall and poised, he carried himself with the regal air of a prince, bowing gracefully as if he were greeting nobility.

“This is San,” Wooyoung said, throwing a casual arm around the newcomer’s shoulders. “He’s one of my closest friends through my mom. Thought it was time for you to meet him.”

As San lifted his gaze, his eyes locked onto yours with startling intensity. For a moment, the world seemed to pause. His lips curled into a small, knowing smile, and his eyes held a glimmer of recognition—as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

“It’s nice to meet you again, my sapphire,” he said, his voice smooth and resonant, carrying a weight that made your heart skip a beat. The words struck you like a bolt of lightning, your chest tightening as memories, emotions, and fragments of something familiar surged forward. It all clicked—the faces, the connections, the inexplicable feelings.

You weren’t just reliving your past; you were stepping into it all over again. But this time, in your own time and path.

And this time, you vowed to cherish every moment, whether things felt too good to be true or overwhelming to comprehend. You reminded yourself to believe that everything happens for a reason. Meeting people who fit perfectly into your world, who understand you deeply, or experiencing stories that surpass your wildest expectations—all of it had already begun unfolding.

Exaggerating these moments, highlighting their significance, felt necessary because they were pieces of something greater. They were reminders that life, in all its unpredictability, is a story worth living.

Life back then may not be the same as the life you have now, but what makes it extraordinary is that you were the one who started it. You made the choice to step forward, to embrace the unknown. Let it flow, wherever it may go. Let it be what it’s meant to be. And most importantly, learn from it.

In doing so, you found not just a story to live, but a reason to thrive.

𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔡

taglist: @passerbyforfun . @seongwars . @candied-czennie . @ffenjoyerdazme . @jiwoongsblondehair

[janearts]

what would be Roisia's reaction if Astarion had accidentally killed her and had to get Withers to help her get up the next morning?

This is such a good question!

Roisia would have been angry at Astarion, of course, both for the act and for demonstrating a pitiable amount of remorse. But her anger toward Astarion would be pretty shallow because Roisia would be able to hear with utmost clarity the irate tone of her mother, a retired Necrobane, upbraiding her for being so unthinking as to let a starved vampire spawn anywhere near her. It is in a wolf's nature to bite, so how can she rage against a wolf when it bites? What did she expect to happen? What was she thinking?! So the majority of her anger would be directed inward.

Roisia would ultimately mark the experience—Astarion's shoddy apology aside—as a learning opportunity, and a rare one at that. She experienced death! And popped right back. That gives her first-hand insight into her undead father's experience and, in Roisia's mind, an edge in figuring out how to complete the process of restoration. After all, she knows what True Resurrection feels like now, shouldn't she be able to recreate it?

[pink-amethyst-tarot]

What you need to hear RIGHT NOW

Oh, my goodness, the urgency of it all...

Take what resonates and leave the rest. In the end, you are the one who is in control of your life.

P I L E 1 ~ P I L E 2 ~ P I L E 3

Pile 1 ♡

Judgement, Ten of Swords (Reversed), Two of Wands (Reversed), Page of Wands, The Star, King of Swords Bottom of the Deck: Wheel of Fortune

A decision has finally been made and you can now rest and recharge. You are now in a place where you can set long-term goals and will be inspired. You are now ready to explore new ideas and possibilities. The tables have turned, and good fortune is on your side. Your faith will be restored, and you will have the mental clarity to move forward.

Pile 2 ♡

Queen of Wands, Four of Cups (Reversed), Eight of Pentacles, Ace of Cups, King of Pentacles, Four of Wands Bottom of the Deck: The Magician

You need to be celebrating yourself! You have worked really hard for this. Be confident in what you've done. You gotta own it! Your hard work is leading to financial success, and you have many love offers coming your way! One of which is the person you will marry! You did this! You did the work so be proud of yourself!

Pile 3 ♡

King of Cups, Queen of Pentacles, The Devil, Judgement, Knight of cups (Reversed), Ten of Cups (Reversed) Bottom of the Deck: The Hermit

You are very caring and kind. That in of itself is not a bad thing to be. But you give so much of yourself, that you are left empty. It seems like you think you have to be needed to have value. That is not true! YOU HAVE VALUE BECAUSE YOU EXIST AND YOU DON'T NEED ANOTHER REASON FOR IT TO BE TRUE!!!! You are being asked to heal and free yourself from any guilt or obligation. It's time to rest, recharge and take time to understand yourself and maybe even doing some shadow work. This is the time that you need to be alone to better understand yourself and so you can learn to pour into your own cup. It's unrealistic to hold yourself to these sky-high standards.

If you are looking for a personal reading, you can look on my shop on Etsy at PinkAmethystTarot, DM me or send me an e-mail at pinkamethysttarot@gmail.com

If you feel called to tip:

C@SH@PP: $oddlycozycottage

Thank you all so much for interacting with me and my readings, it really does mean the world to me!

Page Divider by @reveriesources

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. THESE READINGS ARE FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. no guarantees are implied. These readings are not a substitute or replacement for any professional help or services. My readings are not a substitute for any form of professional legal, medical/psychiatric, relationship, religious/spiritual or financial/ business advice nor consultations. You should always see a professional legal/trained adviser for help in any matter. I am not responsible for any decisions/ actions you take.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 12

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.12 

“Are you working on another one of your ‘conceptual’ death ray schematics, Fiddleford?”

“I didn’t have the easiest time with Psych as a subject because of its abstract nature, I thought that if I could connect it to something more tangible maybe I could understand it better.”

“So you made a psychology gun?”

“Conceptually, think of it more as a memory gun. Most of our memories are stored in our hippocampus and temporal lobe - if I could create a device that interacted exclusively with those structures, and only for memories…”

“You could restore them?”

“Right now I’m focusing on the opposite - destruction.”

“What, Fiddleford, we’re-.”

“Don’t blow a gasket. I’m not intending to erase any more of your brother's memories. This is reverse-engineering, in a way. If I can understand how memories can be suppressed in the first place, I could perhaps understand how to bring them back.”

“Okay…”

“I know, in your own emotionally constipated way, you’re just worried about him. I’d be worried about my family too if any of them up and forgot everything. But I promise you, I’m not trying to harm either of ya’ll.”

“I trust you.”

“I’m glad to hear that, I know it ain’t easy for you.”

“Any breakthroughs during your sessions?”

“I can only possibly isolate an event happening about a year ago, but he can’t specify what type of event it was. He may have been suffocating in some way? All he could say was that he couldn’t breathe.”

“...”

“Stanford, do not go into your own head about this. What happened- whatever happened, it wasn't your fault.”

“Yes… I suppose you are right, old friend.”

“In fact, I had a question about y'all's upbringing.”

“What about it?”

“Did you two share a room growing up?”

“Yes, our home was very small because our family was low income. We shared a room until he was- until he left. Why?”

“I checked your security feed and noticed something peculiar about his sleeping pattern.”

“Were you really watching my brother sl-.”

“Don’t you start now. I sped the footage up. You spend an awful lot of time down there, right?”

“Of course, it is my laboratory after all.”

“And he sleeps a bit, you’ve noticed? Quite soundly?”

“It is not that different from when we were younger.”

“Here’s the interesting bit. The other times he sleeps - when you aren’t in the lab, he doesn’t get high quality or quantity of sleep.”

“What do you mean?”

“I expected this - he’s been in unsafe, unstable environments for the past decade. He has difficulty falling and staying asleep; he wakes up frequently throughout the night, and when he is asleep he looks like he has nightmares, because he tosses and turns, and panics himself awake sometimes.”

“I didn’t know that…”

“Of course you wouldn’t. If he falls asleep while you happen to be in the lab, it doesn’t happen. At first, I wondered if being alone put him out of ease. But one night I was down there running a few tests, and he was still waking up hyperventilating every other hour.”

“I do not understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

“Stanford, what I find most interesting about this; he does not sugarcoat that you abducted him. He has stated multiple times that he believes you are out of your mind, and that your ‘real twin’ is dead and you can’t accept that. But in spite of these things that he says, in spite of all of that; in his most vulnerable, inoffensive state, he subconsciously associates you with safety. Stan says you’re just a stranger to him, but he feels completely safe and at ease with you.”

“...”

“It may seem like we’re hitting a lot of brick walls with him, because ya’ll are just as stubborn as each other. But he remembers you, just not with his waking mind.”

“...I need to write this down in my journal.”

“I know you’re just burying your face into that thing to hide your tears.”

“I believe I have gotten ink into my eyes."

“O’ course you did.”

To be continued…

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS24 fic" For All Life and For All Time" {the final chapter, fic complete!}

Yes, it has taken me longer than I hoped, but I have finally finished my three-part Dracula-themed Victorian CS AU for the @cssns!!! I'm really pleased with how it's come together, and I'm excited to share this last part with you. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. (And I hope the mostly happy ending will allow you to forgive the bit of pain we'll have to endure in getting there...

Summary: Having lost her dearest friend and with her own life on the line, Emma Swan joins a noble band to face an ancient evil. Three of them stand by her in honor of the one they loved and lost. The other might be the first man she could love. He might love her as well - even more than life itself. Time will tell... if they both survive the fight against their immortal enemy.

Also available from the start here on Tumblr or on AO3

(See just a couple more author's notes at chapter's end)

Part Three

by: @snowbellewells

Unable to help himself, a roar of outrage and horror tore from Killian’s chest, ringing across the wide, high-ceilinged space at the sight of the monster draining Emma’s life flow from her veins. Forgetting their plan, forgetting the compatriots around him, seeing only another woman he loved ravaged and dead and himself unable to save her, violent red rage coursed through his body as he charged forward.

Either the prick of the vampire’s fangs into her neck, the pain that immediately followed, or the wild howl of a man unmoored and the sound of oncoming feet, seemed to snap Emma into awareness. A startled cry escaped her lips, eyelids fluttering rapidly as she struggled to regain her bearings before they snapped open in shocked realization of her position in Dracula’s clutches and what was happening to her and around her. She recoiled with a visible shudder, and what strength she had saw her struggling once again to free herself. 

Somewhere in the haze that nearly consumed him, Killian drew some morsel of comfort from the sight. Though her slim build and weakened state made her attempts akin to those of a songbird beating its wings against the firm, steel bars of a gilded cage against von Stiltskin’s implacable, inhuman strength, she didn’t stop for even a moment. Emma was still herself, not lost to them yet.

Killian mastered himself somewhat as he drew near to the vampire and his struggling victim. He must find his clarity, follow through on the plan they had laid out if they were to give Emma her best chance, and to survive themselves. Thankfully, his brothers-in-arms had only recently weathered the horrifying loss he feared, the image of Aurora’s pale and terrifying beauty as the vampiress the Count had made her, and the lengths to which they had gone to restore her humanity, if only in death, must still haunt them now, but it had served them well. The other three had fanned out over the space, insuring that whichever way the monster turned he must needs face one of them in an attempt to fly.

To see the feral gleam in the creature’s eye though, Killian did not believe retreat would be his action this time. As much as on her blood, Dracula was feeding on Emma’s wretched noises and her futile attempts to escape, writhing and bucking in his grasp to no avail. A malevolent glee seemed to seep from every pore under the dead, white skin, causing the vampire to glisten with it, an oozing sheen of evil that seemed almost a protective layer cloaking their foe.

It was now or never; Emma could not afford their hesitation, the element of surprise had been lost even before their arrival, and they were all in place now, as prepared as ever they could be. Raising his voice with a commanding authority he hardly felt, Killian drew from his cloak for the vampire to see, the dagger he had sought halfway across the continent, brandishing it as he would a shining shield. “Von Stiltskin,” he bellowed, staring down the nightmare who had stalked his dreams for years, “let her go!”

At first glimpse of the dagger in his adversary’s grip, the vampire fell back with a hiss, momentarily struck enough to ease his grip on Emma slightly and to remove his fangs from her neck as his displeasure was made known. The unsettling, glowing eyes were murderous, unhinged, but also showed fear in spite of the creature’s anger. Killian moved forward again that much more confident the weapon must indeed wield the powers purported. Why else would the Count hesitate to attack him now, as he drew within striking distance? Particularly with the speed he knew Dracula to possess. He had set himself as the bait for that very reason; to draw focus while the others attacked from all sides. It took almost more restraint than he possessed not to dart forward and pull Emma from the suddenly lax grip the vampire held upon her, to get between them and shield her with his own body from further harm. In truth, the way she slumped as the hold grew less nearly made his panic soar beyond his control, until she managed to catch his eye, raising her head just a moment, but the flicker in the snapping jade orbs told him she was ready the moment she had an opportunity, not quite as limp or defeated as she meant to appear.

The relief that flooded him was almost certainly premature, a distraction he could not afford, and yet it also suffused his being with new strength and will. Only a few steps more, and he would be close enough to land a damaging blow. From the corners of his vision, Killian could see that Jefferson, Graham, and Philip were all in position, each man poised and alert, ready to do just as they had planned. Wordlessly, Killian gave the signal, and even as he pushed forward, the dagger raised to drive through Dracula’s heart if he were to have the chance, the others moved in with him, matching him stride for stride.

If not for their stalwart presence, he might have lost himself, Killian realized, shaking the reddened haze of anger from his vision. But as they tightened their circle, his aim sharpened, and their monstrous foe’s attention was split between the oncoming assailants, just as they had hoped.

Even as Killian readied his arm, steeling himself to sink the dagger home, he saw the rapid movement to his left of Graham Morris driven forward by fighting instinct and chivalric nature past any further hesitation, despite their previous agreement that Killian must strike first with the fated blade. Graham’s slice went deep, and with a roar of pain the monster dropped its clawed grip on Emma completely. She fell to the floor in a heap, and that taloned grasp swiped outward, catching Morris in the gut and dragging across his torso viciously. Graham stumbled back with a gasp, clutching his middle where red already leaked through his fingers.

Killian could not falter; for just one moment, Dracula was stunned, injured - vulnerable - and so he drove the dagger into the monster’s chest, right where its heart would be, if that organ could still exist in one such as he, and followed through with all his might. 

The vampire howled and snapped its terrible jaws, resembling even the guise of humanity less and less with every second. Mere breaths after the deathblow struck home, the vampire sunk to its knees. Yet, even with strength waning, lashed out and gripped Killian about the neck, too firmly to be shaken off and inexorably squeezing, closing off the air from his lungs. It was as though the fiend knew he had finally been bested, but would not sink into the fires below without taking his conqueror with him.

Killian Jones had long since readied himself for such an eventuality. In the long, solitary years he had spent tracking Dracula von Stiltskin’s whereabouts and seeking out any possible weaknesses which might bring about his defeat, he had accepted that his quest’s end would almost surely mean his own as well. And he had been at peace with that. There had been little but bitterness and pain for him in the world at any rate. But now, he found he could not let go just yet; he had reason to stay on this Earth, to live again, beyond Dracula’s downfall, thanks to the band of brothers who surrounded him, and especially the woman who was now rising from where she had fallen.

Scrabbling frantically at the hands which closed off his windpipe, desperate to see this battle finished once and for all, and that Emma was alright, he fought to free himself of the iron hold and the darkening edges encroaching on his sight.

Though it could not have been more than moments, time seemed to have stretched and lengthened oddly, so that Killian had almost forgotten Seward and Thornswood, until both made their own strikes at the monster almost simultaneously. Thornswood came from the right, hacking the creature’s arm with such force it was nearly detached at the shoulder, finally loosening the death grip on Killian and allowing him the air to stay conscious. Seward had attacked from behind, wisely intending to sever the vampire’s neck and remove the head, the only sure way to finish him off. The creature’s fall to its knees had thrown his aim off, however, and his blade was now sunk so deep in the fiend’s back that he struggled to pull it out to try again.

Pulling in great, gasping breaths, Killian searched for the dagger to remove the head himself. No matter how badly they had wounded Dracula, he would regenerate if they did not make certain he was ash. Yet all he could find was the intricate jeweled hilt. It would seem to have disintegrated within the beast upon finding its mark.

Before he could think what to do, Killian saw Emma rise, wavering unsteadily on her feet, but with the hair-raising war cry of a Valkyrie. She had pulled the knife he had sent with her from its sheath at her thigh and she struck the monster’s neck swiftly and certainly - as well as he could have done it himself - before falling to the floor again with a wail and turning her head into his chest.

Though Killian was honored and truly touched to have Emma turn to him for strength in that moment, he pulled back slightly, lifting her chin and urging her to turn so she could also see what was happening before his very eyes. He felt he knew and understood Emma Swan almost as well as he knew himself, and he was unwaveringly sure that - just as he did - she would need to witness what was unfolding, for her own future peace of mind.

And what a sight it was at that - one he had nearly despaired of ever witnessing. With a last bellow that seemed to shake the rafters and the floor beneath their feet, the immortal monster met his end. An otherworldly wind whirled around the vampire as it was buffeted and torn, with bits of him being stripped away piece by piece. Chinks of light began to show through his form to the the far wall, and then it was as though he began to crystallize and dissolve, blown away like sand on the wind.

The howl of the dying creature as it was pulled apart, combined with the pressure and whipping of the blinding wind nearly stole their breath. It was all Killian could do to stand his ground and cling to Emma with all his might to steady her as well. When the small whirlwind finally eased, seeming to vanish back from wherever it had come, all of their company stood still as stone for several long moments. They were silent; frozen in shock and hardly daring to believe that Dracula von Stiltskin was now the mere pile of ash at their feet; the dust barely settled, but the long reign of terror at last at its end.

A wheezing gasp, low and ragged, from off to their left was what finally broke them from their frozen state. “I-Is he f-finished?” the voice asked desperately.

Where Emma had been leaning on him heavily, her reserves of strength and adrenaline nearly drained away, she suddenly jerked forward, her eyes meeting his in alarm, seeming to ask, ‘How could we have forgotten?’

They hurried toward the pained voice, now clearly accompanied by labored breathing, once the tumult had died down. Philip Thornswood had beated them there, already dropping to his knees beside their fallen comrade with a tense exclamation of “Morris!” that made his dismay all too clear. He reached beneath the other man’s shoulders, elevating his head and torso slightly and looking with worried brow to Jefferson for direction.

The doctor had also knelt beside the brave adventurer, pulling back the remnants of ruined shirt and vest to examine Graham Morris’ wound. But his grim expression only told them what they had already feared. There was so much blood - beneath him, around him, still leaking from the open wound - gaping appallingly no matter how much they wished to see otherwise.

Graham’s large, expressive brown eyes had gone a bit glassy, but they still flicked from one to another of his friends earnestly. “Tell me, please… whatever it is. Is the monster gone?”

There was nothing to be done for him, not that could be accomplished in a dank, drafty castle with no surgical equipment and so much blood loss. Clearly even the cowboy already knew it, and so none forced Seward to put the bleak reality into words. Instead, he reached out and took Morris’ hand in his, clasping tightly as Thornswood did the same at his shoulder. “Dracula’s reign of terror is over. We did it, my Friend. Rest easy on that.”

A rattling breath escaped the Irishman’s lungs at those words, as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment in deeply felt relief. They almost wondered if he was already fading when they flickered open once more and he asked, “A-and Emma? Miss Swan? Is she…?”

With a pained cry, Emma stumbled to his other side and dropped next to him on the cold cement floor, anxious to ease his mind and offer him her thanks if that were all that she could do. Reaching out a trembling hand, she smoothed a sweaty curl from his clammy forehead, squeezing his fingers - heedless of how they were tacky with dried blood - tightly in her own and then pressing their joined hands to her chest with emotion.

“I’m here,” she murmured, “We all are.” She didn’t know what else to do, but she didn’t want this brave man who had fought against evil and helped to save her life to feel alone for even one second in this horrible passing.

Morris managed a faint press of Emma’s fingers in return, almost smiling tremulously as he added with a ragged gasp, “M-Miss Swan? It is g-good to see you, milady.  Are you truly alright?”

Tears still rimmed Emma’s green eyes, glittering in the strange half-light like jewels on her lashes as she nodded fervently. “Yes, I am. Please do not fret on that anymore. I will be fine. Thanks in no small part to you, Mr. Morris.” Her voice trembled with emotion at feeling the strength in his hand that she clasped in her own lessening with each moment that passed. The roving hero’s journey was inescapably nearing its end, and though he had fought well and seen their battle won, he would not have the chance to savor the victory they had wrought, nor to enjoy the newfound peace he had helped to secure.

“Thank the Lord and all His saints for that,” he exhaled, the words barely more than a whisper of breath. When his eyes fell closed that time, his lashes did not flutter open again; the struggling rise and fall of his chest went still, and Graham Morris breathed his last.

Strong, formidable men all, his allies were, and still in that frigid, ruined throne room Emma’s tears were not the only ones shed over the body of the impetuous wanderer who had given his last to the cause. Somehow the hours had hurried on; the sun was rising once more over the eastern peaks, and they had to leave the forbidding outpost of their vanquished foe. Though it was hard to believe they would leave that castle to tread on the same earth after the waking nightmare they had just survived, there was little else to be done but to press onward as best they could.

Emma Swan raised her eyes, her gaze seeking the only imaginable solace to be found - the answering blue stare of Killian Joens, mourning too, but still resolute and offering the hope of comfort to which she could cling. She focused on him and drew from his strength as the new day’s sun bathed the tragic scene in yet more red and gold with its returning glow. For the moment she must beyond the loss to the future - one they would have with certainty, now that the vampire was no more.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Two Years Later…

A cool, gentle breeze drifts in through the open window as Killian Jones, once the driven and coolly implacable vampire hunter Van Helsing, stands looking out over the fields and grounds of the country estate he now shares with the two lights of his life: Emma, his beautiful bride of more than a year, the savior of his heart and soul, and their new son, who gurgles happily in his arms. Looking down at the baby’s playful noisemaking, Killian grins, utterly enchanted by the gummy smile the little lad gives him, kicking his chubby feet energetically and latching onto his papa’s finger with an impressively tight grip of his small fist. For a babe just days old, Killian feels he must be especially brilliant to already show such personality and expression, though he knows he is more than biased and does not care one bit.

Emma is still recovering from the delivery in their suite just down the hall, so he happily took the wee one for a bit of a walk about the place after his last feeding, and now finds himself standing in the nursery enjoying both the peaceful meadows outside the window view and the tiny miracle in his arms, still rather stunned that he ever managed to find such contentment after so much struggle and pain.

Just then he hears lightly shuffling footsteps behind him, mere moments before his wife’s slender arms wrap around him from behind. He smiles warmly, feeling the same satisfaction she seems to as she burrows her face between his shoulderblades and hums delightedly while breathing him in.

Making sure their son is cradled securely against his body and within the crook of his arm, Killian brings his other hand down to cover Emma’s own and squeeze gently, gladly returning the affectionate touch, even as he chides lightly, “You, my darling, are meant to be resting, not up and roaming about the manor.”

Her soft laughter seems to brighten the very air with its light notes of joy, carefree and open as both of them are only now learning to allow their emotions to be - on the surface and able to be shared. Laying her cool, soft hand to rest over his heart, even as she returns the loving press of his fingers around her own, she cannot help the playfully tart response that escapes her lips. “You know better than to coddle me like some china doll, Mr. Jones.”

He can practically see the challenging quirk to her brow, the way she tilts her head in expectation when when she baits him, just waiting for his reply, and the knowing curve upwards at one corner of her mouth, even though he cannot actually look her in the face with her cuddled against his back.

Taking the hand he holds and using it to pull her in a wide circle, Killian brings his wife around to face him and gather her close again. His arms are wrapped around his whole world in their small family, and their little one is cradled between them as he gazes down into Emma’s eyes. “Forgive me, Mrs. Jones, but I believe it is my duty and right to care for the well-being of my lady wife.”

Shaking her head at his overly formal repartee, she huffs out an affectionate breath of exasperated acquiescence. 

Their back and forth is interrupted when their son begins to fuss, nosing doggedly at the front of Emma’s gown and letting her know without question that he is again ready for his meal. “He’s your child, that much is certain,” Emma adds tartly, a sardonic tone to her voice as she eyes her husband. “Insatiable.”

But even as she takes the child more fully into her own arms, moves aside her robe, and brings him closer to her breast, she lets one hand trail along Killian’s flank and playfully squeeze his rear in a moment’s tease, before moving away to carry their little boy to the rocking chair by the bassinet and settling in to feed him properly.

Killian’s body cannot help but jerk slightly in surprised response to her amorous caress, several parts of his anatomy coming to life. It is true that he always wants her, but he is not about to risk Emma’s health or comfort before her body is fully healed and restored from the birth of their son. “It would seem your roving hands prove I’m not the only insatiable one,” he murmurs lowly, a feral grin lighting his features as he follows her across the room and bends to take her lips with his own. The kiss is deep and leaves them both breathless. If all he can have at the moment, he will certainly make his kisses count.

She hums in agreement; relaxed, at ease, and happy as the little one settles again and she brushes tender fingers over the soft tufts of dark hair atop the boy’s hair. Quincey Morris Jones blinks eyes as blue as his father’s up at them sleepily once he has begun to get his fill. They had decided almost immediately to pass the surname of the lost member of their band of brothers on to their first child; it seemed the only tribute fitting enough to truly honor his sacrifice, and a worthy namesake to give their boy who would surely grow up to be as honorable and true as the man of whom they would tell him proudly.

As Killian takes the newborn, who is once more dozing, from his mother’s arms and lowers him carefully into his crib, he looks back at his wife. Her eyes practically glow with love for him, and a small, secret smile plays upon her perfect mouth. Beckoning Killian to her, Emma accepts his hand to rise, and lets him guide her back to their bedroom, where he curls around her protectively, staying dutifully at her side to insure her rest. Watching over her as she drifts back to sleep, and he hovers on the brink of it himself, Killian thinks of the day when he will tell young Quincey tales that prove just how marvelous a woman his mother is. So beautiful, daring, and brilliant that men would dare to risk all for her sake.

THE END~

Author's Note: I truly cannot believe that I've completed this story - and my work for the last @cssns but I won't be too sad as I still have ones from past years to finish, and I can always come back to read the many other amazing entries to the event's collection. @cssns was such a wonderful thing to be part of, and I will always be grateful to have been a small part of it!

As to this story's last chapter, I hope you will fondly remember a similar final line to the novel by Bram Stoker. When it struck me that I could use a similar closely line for this story, I was so excited!!! (Still, I thought I should give credit where credit was due, even if I have put it in my own words and context.)

And secondly, please PLEASE forgive me for Graham Morris! You truly can't be hurting much more than I hurt myself in trying to write it. (That's part of what has taken so long to complete this final chapter.) I knew when I made him the likeness of the American cowboy Quincey Morris (my adored fave character in the original novel) that this part of the story would come, I still wasn't prepared for how hard it was to actually follow through and do it.

I hope you've enjoyed this one - I've really loved working in this universe!!

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615

@searchingwardrobes @xarandomdreamx @myfearless-love @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic

@apiratewhopines @anmylica @laschatzi @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight

@tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @revanmeetra87

@lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @hollyethecurious

@gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @belovedcreation @jonesfandomfanatic @kday426

@resident-of-storybrooke @drowned-dreamer @booksteaandtoomuchtv @everything-person @winterbaby90

@undercaffinatednightmare @caught-in-the-filter @darkcolinodonorgasm @goforlaunchcee @laianely

@elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @grimmswan

[mariacallous]

Donald Trump signed an executive order on Wednesday banning transgender athletes from participating in women’s sports, the latest in a slew of moves rolling back the rights of trans people.

The order establishes stricter mandates on sports and gender policy, directing federal agencies, including the Department of Justice, to interpret federal Title IX rules as the prohibition of transgender girls and women from participating in any female sports categories.

The order is titled “Keeping Men Out of Women’s Sports”.

The order, which mandates immediate enforcement, directs state attorneys general to identify best practices for enforcement.

“With this executive order, the war on women’s sports is over,” Trump said on Wednesday. The timing of the order coincided with National Girls and Women in Sports Day.

The order, which is likely to face legal challenges, calls for “immediate enforcement” nationwide. It threatens to cut off federal funding for any school that allows trans women or girls to compete in female-designated sporting competitions.

The order would affect only a small number of athletes. The president of the National Collegiate Athletics Association told a Senate panel in December he was aware of fewer than 10 trans athletes among the 520,000 competing at 1,100 member schools.

Athlete Ally, a non-profit athletic advocacy group, released a statement in response to the order, saying: “Our hearts break for the trans youth who will no longer be able to know the joy of playing sports as their full and authentic selves.

“We’ve known this day was likely to occur for a long time, as this administration continues to pursue simple solutions to complex issues, often resulting in animus towards the most marginalized communities in our country.”

This latest attack on trans rights follows a sequence of controversial mandates by the Trump administration. During his first day in office, Trump signed an order calling for the federal government to define sex as “only male or female” based on reproductive cells and for it to be reflected on all official documents such as passports.

Last week, he signed an executive order prohibiting gender transition for people under the age of 19. It included gender-affirming care, such as puberty blockers, the use of hormones such as estrogen or testosterone, and surgical procedures.

Trump has also taken aim at Biden’s orders to combat gender discrimination. Last month, Trump signed an order called “Defending Women from Gender Ideology Extremism and Restoring Biological Truth to the Federal Government” that instructs the federal government to remove “all radical gender ideology guidance, communication, policies, and forms”.

The White House expects all sports bodies such as the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) to change their rules in accordance with the latest order.

“We’re a national governing body and we follow federal law,” the NCAA president, Charlie Baker, told Republican senators at a hearing in December. “Clarity on this issue at the federal level would be very helpful.”

The trans community has already seen the effects of the barrage of attacks on their rights. Following Trump’s orders, several hospitals across the US stopped providing care for transgender youth.

Prisons have likewise isolated transgender women in custody, telling them that they will be transferred to men’s prisons after losing access to gender-affirming medical treatments.

Olivia Hunt, of the group Advocates for Trans Equality, told Britain’s Sky News: “For the past two weeks the trans community across the United States has seen unending attacks from this administration on all aspects of our rights and daily lives. And seeing this attack, like the others, knowing it’s going to be very long on hostile rhetoric and inflammatory language and very short on clear, actionable policies, it’s always very concerning … especially when it’s targeted at a relatively small and already marginalized community across the country.”

[darkmaga-returns]

The following information is based on a report originally published by A Midwestern Doctor. Key details have been streamlined and editorialized for clarity and impact. Read the original report here.

Did you know modern sleeping pills disrupt healthy sleep, making you 2 to 5 times MORE likely to DIE?

There was one prescription sleep aid that actually worked.

But it was so cheap and effective, the FDA launched a 10-year campaign to take it down.

This is the ivermectin of sleep.

Poor sleep doesn’t just make you tired. It wreaks havoc on virtually every process in the body.

Not getting adequate sleep destroys your memory, wrecks your metabolism (increasing your risk of cancer), makes you more likely to die from heart disease, and more.

And here’s the kicker: some sleeping pills don’t fix this—they make it worse. They sedate you instead of restoring real sleep, and that disruption is part of the danger.

It’s really serious.

[wintrrliqht]

Looking for prayers if anyone would want to, waiting to hear back ab my dads colon cancer and very anxious ab it 🙏

Heavenly Father, I come before you with a heavy heart, lifting up their dad to you. Lord, you are the Great Physician, the One who heals and restores. I ask that you place your healing hands upon him, remove every trace of cancer from his body, and strengthen him for the journey ahead. Give wisdom to the doctors, clarity in their decisions, and hope in every step of this process. Father, I also pray for his family; bring them peace as they wait, comfort in their uncertainty, and unwavering faith in your goodness. Let them feel your presence surrounding them, reminding them that they are not alone. No matter what comes, let them trust in your love and sovereignty. Show them your deliverance and salvation by healing them of their pain, God. In Jesus’ name, we pray, Amen.

Jehovah-Rapha

Jehovah-Jireh

Jehovah-Tsidkenu

🤍🤍🤍

[altocat]

Plz make us cry Alto

Seph and Lucrecia reunion 🥹🥹

RAISED

PART 7

Vincent settles in with the group during the brief journey to the mountains. He is confused at Sephiroth's often childlike, messy mental state but Zack explains everything, right down to the entire plot of CC up until now. Vincent gradually ingratiates himself with the group, determined to help heal Sephiroth as atonement for his sins. And now that Cloud is out of commission and Genesis has been dormant for some time, the group is confident they can safely make it to the cave in one piece.

Sephiroth is nervous, naturally. Nibelheim really reopened a lot of old wounds. He's still trying to place together how much of himself is human, an alteration under Hojo, a false memory, or part of Jenova. The idea of him coming from Jenova sickens him to his core, makes him angrier than ever about all the things Shinra did to him. Rather than turning his anger towards humanity though, Aerith continues to emotionally strengthen and encourage him, telling him that regardless of whatever answer he finds, it's up to HIM to decide who he truly wants to be. She eventually reveals what she is (she finds out during one of the early Shinra encounters) and why she feels she's beginning to truly understand her place on this planet. To pave the way to a brighter future. She and Sephiroth are relics from an ancient world. They've come into existence in order to lead the way to a NEW world, a KINDER world.

Zack, meanwhile, is still trying to figure out what role he plays in all this. What happens after they heal Sephiroth? They still have no idea where to go. And that's not even telling what's going to happen with Genesis or Cloud. How do you begin again when your world is so messed up? His relationship with Aerith is getting closer. But Zack is tired. And he's been really pushed to the brink this entire journey. More than anything, he needs time to process all the trauma he's witnessed, and in even bigger need for a bit of hope.

They arrive at the cave, Vincent leading the way as they weave through walls of crystal. Sephiroth becomes increasingly more agitated and on edge, sensing something, something that tugs at his chest, something lost, brutal, shattering. His mangled mind twists for clarity, nearly falling into full insanity again before the group manages to tug him forward, dragging him step by step. They can't turn back. They're so close now. And while Aerith and Zack don't know what's going on, they can FEEL it. It's here. It's real.

And at last, through years of agony, abandonment, loss, and confusion, Sephiroth finally finds what he's looking for.

He finds HER.

After breaking through the emotional formalities of greeting the group (and Vincent) Lucrecia reaches out to her son. She apologizes for everything, for the experiment, for her foolishness, for her absence. She shows Sephiroth everything from the very beginning, unfiltered, unrecognizable from the hellish truth he'd uncovered in Nibelheim. And as she envelops her son in ways she never could have before in life, she finally lets him know what he needed to hear--that this was never his fault. And that she loves him. And that maybe, in some small way, she can finally atone, find peace at last.

With the last of her energies as well as utilizing the full power of the Jenova cells inside her, Lucrecia embraces her son, restoring his mind to full sanity before fading away to finally rejoin the Lifestream, her suffering finally at its end. Sephiroth has little time to really feel her, clarity finally snapping into place just as he feels her receding from him. He can only watch as she leaves him for the second and final time, surrounded by his allies, finally healed and fully aware of the person he truly is.

He cannot have her. And he never will. But he knows now that he is not a weapon. He is not a mindless tool. He is not an alien or a monster or a victim to be brutalized by Shinra. He is wanted, cherished. He was sheltered, raised back to completion by people who truly care about him. And he will continue to protect them, help them find a new home and regain a new sense of purpose. After all, they brought him here. They never gave up on him. They are a testament to humanity's worth, to the life Sephiroth always wanted. He loves them. Just as he would have loved her. And he will fight for them, die for them if the situation calls for it.

He is human. He survives. And he survives with his friends, his family.

And for now, that's enough.

END OF PART 1

[wearepaladin]

Well, if you'd like to restate your positions, I'd like to hear your thoughts on the Oaths (particularly Vengeance, Devotion and Ancients, as they seem to be the most iconic) and to hear your position on them?

Oath of Devotion: The more traditional oath among the core three, and my favorite, if I'm being honest, for among other things, it provides the most clarity on how the oathkeeper is supposed to act.

Honesty: Don’t lie or cheat. Let your word be your promise.

Courage: Never fear to act, though caution is wise.

Compassion: Aid others, protect the weak, and punish those who threaten them. Show mercy to your foes, but temper it with wisdom.

Honor: Treat others with fairness, and let your honorable deeds be an example to them. Do as much good as possible while causing the least amount of harm.

Duty: Be responsible for your actions and their consequences, protect those entrusted to your care, and obey those who have just authority over you.

Every tenet begins with a virtue, a clear ideal to aspire to, followed by clarity on how best to fulfill that tenet. While this Oath would thrive in the Altruistic Collectivism that typically embodies the Lawful Good Alignment, it is by no means not capable of providing guidance and purpose to a person who lives outside such systems. It is my favorite oath because it's not overly ambiguous, has solid and clarified ideals and how to achieve them with the freedom to interpret them to their best fulfillment.

Oath of the Ancients: While the most popular according to polls I've taken in the past, and while I don't dislike it, it is my least favorite among the core three. It's an Oath that encourages goodness and benevolence to an admirable degree, but I sometimes feel it is too nebulous in its directives.

Kindle the Light. Through your acts of mercy, kindness, and forgiveness, kindle the light of hope in the world, beating back despair.

Shelter the Light. Where there is good, beauty, love, and laughter in the world, stand against the wickedness that would swallow it. Where life flourishes, stand against the forces that would render it barren.

Preserve Your Own Light. Delight in song and laughter, in beauty and art. If you allow the light to die in your own heart, you can't preserve it in the world.

Be the Light. Be a glorious beacon for all who live in despair. Let the light of your joy and courage shine forth in all your deeds.

It encourages a philosophy of altruistic consequentialism, a benevolence that focuses more on the final result than how best to achieve it. If it it stands against anything, unnecessary destruction and despair are illustrated as the closest it will acknowledge as Darkness in a tenet system that wants to encourage Light in all its forms. It is a moral oath that wants to find the goodness in everyone, foster it, strengthen it, but hesitates to name its enemy. Perhaps this is a statement that goodness can be fostered anywhere, and that is admirable.

Oath of Vengeance: The most martial of the core oaths, and one that embraces ruthlessness as a virtue. Out of all the Oaths, its perhaps the most focused in its belief and means of achieving it, to the point that the unwary can trap themselves.

Fight the Greater Evil. Faced with a choice of fighting my sworn foes or combating a lesser evil, I choose the greater evil.

No Mercy for the Wicked. Ordinary foes might win my mercy, but my sworn enemies do not.

By Any Means Necessary. My qualms can't get in the way of exterminating my foes.

Restitution. If my foes wreak ruin on the world, it is because I failed to stop them. I must help those harmed by their misdeeds.

In a way, its the opposite of the Ancients Oath in that it focuses more on the Enemies of the Oathkeeper than how to best live a virtuous or benevolent life. The only virtue it name sis restitution which it underlies as the final world: Where Evil Harms, you shall Restore. For many avengers, this can be overlooked or seen as less important than the Hunt, but allows the Avenger a means of reminding themselves that destruction of evil is meant to lead to good prospering. Destruction is not the end goal. Unlike the other 2, this is purely a warriors oath and can be ended by action, fulfilling the Oath, either allowing the person to move on or focus purely on the restitution tenet.

All three have a place and can be coterminous.

[floretskybright]

Snow Macaque AU

I suddenly had this idea for a lmk Au

Basically it starts when Macaque is in diyu and the lady bone demon appears to make a deal with him

But Mac is too weak and delirious from the diyu cleaning his soul to understand a thing

Then Mac tries to gain some clarity and strenght by absorbing the spirit of Lbd to boost himself

Mac had successfully absorbed Lbd because she was already too weak from being sealed away to survive being absorbed

Mac gained clarity and understood what he did and what absorbing Lbd did to him

Because of Lbd's powers he changed both in appearance and powerwise (I will draw how he looks after I return back home from vacantion)

His fur became a snow white and his eyes became a scarlet color with the white of the eyes being golden , his sight was restored but the scar on his face remained , it seems that Ldb's clairvoyance powers made him gain six colourful ears to hear the past , present and future and lastly he gained ice and necromancy powers(he basically gained some immortality as he can just revive himself and because Lbd was a former celestial)he used necromancy to return to the mortal realm

After coming back to life he got attacked by the not-mayor for killing his lady but Mac was much stronger than him and let his shadows consume the not-mayor

Macaque wanders a snowy mountain with his shadow lantern in hand still not knowing what to do with himself yet after reviving

The villagers in the area will see Mac and start a rumour of an Ice king living on the mountain

The rumours will attract the bull family for an alliance and will be surprised of who the ice king really was but will then maintain a good relationship with each other

Mac doesn't want to see Wukong so the bull family makes sure nobody knows of Mac being alive but that will later be in vain by meeting MK and therefore Wukong later on

Before Mac died he and Wukong were best friends without any romantic feelings for each other (*cough*they're*cough* both *cough*dense*cough* jeez what a coughing fit) then after their fight they became enemies , and will still be at the start of their first meeting after Mac revived , they will remain somewhat civil for MK but then Wukong will fall in love with Mac and will have to try to court the oblivious Macaque

[brokehorrorfan]

4K Ultra HD Review: Basket Case

Unlike most "prestigious" organizations dedicated to the arts (I'm looking at you, Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences), the Museum of Modern Art doesn't ignore the existence of genre fare. Nevertheless, there's something surreal about seeing "This film is from the collections of The Museum of Modern Art" at the start of Basket Case, a sleazy exploitation picture shot on 16mm over the course of a year for under $35,000.

The 1982 film follows Duane Bradley (Kevin VanHentenryck), who carries around his formerly-conjoined twin brother, a deformed, fleshy menace named Belial, in a wicker basket. While Duane intends to get revenge on the medical professionals who performed their unwanted separation surgery, Belial indiscriminately kills anyone who opens the basket like a malevolent jack in the box.

It's clear from the start that some sort of creature is contained within the basket, but writer-director Frank Henenlotter (Frankenhooker, Brain Damage) smartly allows the tension to build before revealing Belial in all his glory at the end of the first act. There's no mistaking it for anything but inanimate rubber (save for a primitive stop-motion sequence), but its blood-curdling screams give it life. Special effects artists Kevin Haney and John Caglione Jr. both won Oscars for Best Makeup — for Driving Miss Daisy and Dick Tracy, respectively — less than a decade removed from Basket Case.

MoMA's 4K restoration of Basket Case's original 16mm AB negative reels arrives on 4K Ultra HD with Dolby Vision (HDR10 compatible) and original uncompressed PCM mono audio via Arrow Video. Importantly, the restoration presents the film in newfound clarity while preserving the '80s NYC grime inherent to the film. The limited edition set comes with reversible artwork, a double-sided fold-out poster, and a booklet with writing on the film by horror historian Michael Gingold and a Basket Case comic strip by Martin Trafford, all housed in a slipcase featuring artwork by Sara Deck.

While no new special features were produced for the 4K, the plethora of existing materials including cover every conceivable aspect of the film. Henenlotter and VanHentenryck's breathless commentary from Arrow's 2017 Blu-ray doubles as a low-budget film school, from reusing sets to dumpster diving for decor. An archival track from Something Weird's 2001 DVD with Henenlotter, producer Edgar Ievins, actress Beverly Bonner, and Basket Case 2 production assistant Scooter McRae repeats most of the insight, but it's fun to hear their rapport.

Interviews are ported over with VanHentenryck, who discusses his cerebral approach to playing the character; Bonner, who wrote and starred in a play examining where her character might be 30 years after Basket Case; Florence and Maryellen Schultz, Henenlotter's identical twin cousins who play nurses in the film and share his unique sense of humor; and legendary film critic and The Last Drive-In host Joe Bob Briggs, whose campaign to host the film's drive-in premiere saved it from being cut by its distributor.

A joke interview with Henenlotter features the filmmaker portrayed by Albert Cadabra, a sideshow performer who edited Henenlotter's Bad Biology, in the nude. The Latvian Connection explores four crucial members of the Basket Case team of Latvian descent: Ievins, associate producer/effects artist Ugis Nigals, casting director/actress Ilze Balodis, and Belial performer Kika Nigals. What’s in the Basket? is a 78-minute documentary produced by Severin Films in 2012 covering the Basket Case franchise with cast and crew.

Three short films are featured: Basket Case 3½, an 8-minute mockumentary from 2017 in which Henenlotter interviews "Duane Bradley" (VanHentenryck) about the events of Basket Case; Slash of the Knife, Henenlotter's 1976 short film that ultimately lead him to make Basket Case, with optional commentary by Henenlotter and playwright Mike Bencivenga and outtakes; and Belial’s Dream, a 2017 stop-motion animated short by Robert Morgan (who just made his feature debut with Stopmotion), accompanied by its own brief making-of featurette.

Other extras include: the MoMA's 2017 restoration premiere introduction and Q&A with Henenlotter, VanHentenryck, Bonner, the Schultz twins, and Ugis Nigals; The Frisson of Fission, a video essay by film historian Travis Crawford exploring the history of conjoined twins and "freaks" in cinema; a 2011 filming location tour with Henenlotter and rapper R.A. The Rugged Man (who co-wrote Bad Biology) explore the filming locations; outtakes; five image galleries (promotional stills, behind the scenes, ephemera, advertisements, home video releases); three trailers; a TV spot; and two radio spots.

Henenlotter didn't set out to make a cult film — in fact, he didn't think anyone would ever see his feature debut — but that's what he accomplished with Basket Case. Shot on location in New York City, the picture doubles as a time capsule of a seedy version of Times Square that no longer exists; one littered with drug dealers, sex workers, and porno theaters. While the sequels would lean more into the comedy, the original film balanced its camp with well-placed shocks.

Basket Case will be released on 4K Ultra HD on April 30 via Arrow Video.

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 1: lucifer / night dagger scene

ao3 link

note: what better way to kick things off than to make lucifer so very sad! this is based on lesson 38 of the original game, during the whole three-realms-imbalance-lucifer-amnesia arc. requested by anonymous - thank you!

little bit of context: in our version, the source of the imbalance is an 'aberration', which ik is the 'host' of - owing to the weird time stuff + exposure to extremely potent foreign magic, meaning she has the exact specific constitution that allows the aberration to form

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

“I’ve told you everything I know. Do what you think is right - I trust you.”

Solomon tells me this, presses a cold blade into my hand, and leaves. Lucifer stands in his wake and stares at me in blank silence.

Do what you think is right.

For the first time since he woke up without his memories, I’m grateful that he doesn’t remember anything. I don’t think I could have looked him in the eye if they’d held even a shred more clarity.

“How much did you hear?” I ask.

“...enough.”

Ten frozen seconds tick by without a word. Lucifer steps forward - cautiously, as if approaching a stray dog - and slips the dagger from my hand.

I watch as he balances the blade between two fingers. It looks so fragile that it might shatter at a touch. A single ray of light glances from the sharp edge, into the red of his eyes.

He doesn’t flinch. “So this is the solution.”

He’s holding the blade just out of reach - just high enough that I can’t snatch it back. I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose.

“It’s only a last resort,” I say, without really processing it. “Solomon’s clever. He’ll come up with something else. He will, he— he has to.”

Lucifer’s eyes flash down to me. Slowly, he crouches down.

“...it’s strange. There are certain things that still haven’t disappeared, even if I’ve forgotten everything else." He smiles a little. "This house - I don’t remember how we came to be here. But I know it is where we've all been together, and I know it is where I want to stay.”

He reaches up, cradling my cheek in a gloveless hand. His skin is ice-cold - but I can only lean closer, grasping for comfort where it lingers, in the way that his thumb still moves in exactly the same soothing motion.

“I don’t remember who I must have been,” He says softly. “But the feeling remains. If this is what it takes to keep you safe, so be it. If we don’t fix this quickly, you’ll all suffer for it. I cannot allow that.”

I hate that he can make it sound so easy. When he presses the dagger back into my hand, I can’t fight it.

“Just close your eyes.” He cups his hand around mine, closing my numb fingers around the handle. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

And he points the tip into his heart.

My hand trembles. He holds it steady. He won’t look me in the eye, won’t raise his head - he keeps it bowed in supplication, waiting silently for the blow.

I can’t do this.

Lucifer doesn’t know how to die. I don’t want to be the one to teach him.

Do what’s right. Do what you think is right.

Do what’s right.

Do what you think is right.

I don’t understand. This is all to restore balance - but why? Why does it have to be like this?

The dagger needs power if the aberration is to be cut out with precision. It has to be done with precision if I don’t want it to tear me apart on the way out. Once torn from its only host, it’ll disappear.

...I should’ve put two and two together. It’s not that I’m special enough to need this whole fancy scheme. This is all a work-around for just how mundane I am.

Solomon hasn’t been telling me everything. Either he’s tricked me, or he’s tricked himself - into thinking that the only solutions for this end with me alive. He watches over humanity, and that includes me - so of course he wouldn't tell me. Of course he's decided that this is the best course of action, because he thinks he knows best.

The dagger could drain the life from my weak human body in an instant - no extra fuss. With that, everything would be fixed. But he's chosen something else. And for this version of the plan, Lucifer has to die instead.

I suppose Solomon doesn’t know me as well as I thought he did. Surely he’d realise that this is worse than anything else he could have asked me to do.

Do what’s right.

Or maybe that’s why he asked me to do it. He knows what would happen if I realised I had any other choice, and it goes against his very purpose to let me do it.

In fact, he's known for a while now. He's just pretended not to, and I haven't questioned it because it's so obvious. If it did work, he'd have brought it up, right?

And that's exactly what he was banking on. Too bad I've outsmarted him at this turn.

Do what you think is right.

I’ve made up my mind.

“No.” Before Lucifer can pull away, I reach up and seize the knife with my other hand as well. “I’m not doing this.”

His expression stutters. “What—”

“This is stupid.” I try to wrest it from him, but he holds fast. “Why are we doing this? Wouldn’t it be so much easier if I just—”

His eyes widen, and he interrupts sharply, “That is not an option.”

“If I'm gone, it all ends." I can't fool him. All I can do is try to reason with him. "I can fix this. I can give you your memories back.”

“And what do you expect me to do after that?!” His voice cracks. It feels as if the sound might break him apart. “You’ll give me my memories - and what will happen when I remember who I am mourning?!”

“You’ll carry on. You always do.” I try to look him in the eyes. He refuses to look back. “If I let you die— that’s thousands of years gone, and thousands more that you won’t have anymore. I know you - you'd want those memories back."

"Your family matters more to you than anything - you'd never want to forget them." I try to offer him a smile - just as he did as he prepared to tell me to kill him. "I'm not important enough to make you give that up."

He stops struggling. His expression is hollow. “...you are lying to me.”

"I know."

Stalemate. Neither of us will back down. Neither of us will let go.

My sleeve has slipped up. There’s a pin-prick of dark blue light winking up at me - a pact he once made to protect me.

I won’t make him do it. But I have to make sure he won’t stop me.

“Lucifer. Give me the dagger.” My head is clearer than ever before. “That’s an order.”

[b1udk1tty-mk]

I feel like the last song that Donnie would’ve listen to before he saves the world, would’ve been

(Don’t Fear) The Reaper- Blue Öyster Cult

(HEAR ME OUT!)

Also TW- mentions of death and MAJOR spoilers!

As we near the end of the movie, Donnie comes to terms with his fate: he must die. The entire story essentially takes place in the tangent universe, which begins when the jet engine falls into Donnie’s room.

Throughout the movie, Donnie is confused and overwhelmed by the bizarre events unfolding around him, like Frank’s cryptic guidance, his strange visions, and the discovery of a book about time travel that eerily aligns with what he’s experiencing. These events lead him to realize that none of this is a coincidence.

Eventually, Donnie pieces together that it’s his responsibility to save the world. He understands that to restore the primary universe and prevent catastrophic destruction, he must sacrifice himself in the tangent universe.

Towards the end, Donnie laughs because he’s not afraid of dying because inevitably, everyone dies. He understands that, and he also understands that he has to go a little earlier than his loved ones because of his purpose of being here. His purpose being to make everyone go back to the primary universe and although at first he was confused and afraid, he accepts his fate.

This song fits perfectly to what I said because the songs meaning is that we all inevitably die and that we shouldn’t be afraid of death. It’s a natural part of life and how we shouldnt have anxiety about death and honestly I agree with this so much.

See my interpretation of the song is that, there is no way we can escape it, so when it comes time we got to embrace it. We shouldn’t fear the reaper and run from him, but rather accept that the reaper has his reasons to take you from this world at a specific time.

It makes sense that he would reflect on the song’s message as part of his final realization, because the song’s philosophy aligns so well with the clarity he gains by the end of the movie.

But… I will say though, Donnie would’ve obviously explain the meaning of the song and how he interprets it in a more complex way.

But I guess will never know cause he’s DEAD

(Sorry I got emotional there…)