#the quest for transcendant love
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girl4music · 3 months ago
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“Xena’s Quest for Transcendent Love
“WHAT WOULD XENA DO?” The question became a trademark of the syndicated TV series, Xena: Warrior Princess (1995–2001), highlighting the religious references that saturated Xena’s mystical universe. Through a crafty retelling of religious stories, the show subverted various myths and legends that have historically been created and perpetuated by those in power. Xena re-imagines a world through a feminine lens and draws from prominent spiritual traditions to center the series in an esoteric discourse that challenges the dominant ideology of today’s world religions, creating space for the possibility of a new mystical interpretation of divine truths.
The relationship between Xena and Gabrielle is described in language that’s reminiscent of the mystical texts describing a love of the divine. Xena’s quest is her mystical journey to unite her soul with that of Gabrielle: a union of her own darkness with Gabrielle’s pure light, of yin and yang, of good and evil. Xena finds that the Way of the Warrior is her spiritual path to union with her soulmate, which happens in the final moments of the series. Xena blends various spiritual traditions that expose its heroine to a variety of possible paths to her Truth. The retelling of these myths, and the creation of a lesbian subtext, find Xena as a disciple of the Tao, of Christ and the Virgin, and of an avatar of Krishna, all of which contribute to her spiritual quest.
Xena asserts that there are many paths, but that ultimately humanity is searching for a divine connection to the individual soul. Xena exposes the limitations of religious thought, broaching the possibility that spiritual completion can be realized by two mortals uniting as one; God need not be part of the equation. In this way, the notion of a mystical path has been taken out of the religious realm and brought into a secular arena, entailing unification not with a divine but with a mortal entity.
Set in Ancient Greece—and All That That Implies
The basic premise of the show is pretty straightforward. The show takes place in ancient Greece, where Xena witnessed the destruction of her village and the murder of her brother at a young age; she turns her anger inward by becoming a vengeful warlord and kills thousands of people. The show picks up during her quest for redemption, when “she renounces evil and resolves to spend the rest of her days doing good in order to atone for the misdeeds of her past” (Fillingim, 2009). She meets her sidekick, Gabrielle, and they set off to save the world from its suffering. At first glance, the show reads like an adventure story in which Xena battles evil armed with a hard stare and a sword. However, what brings the show to life is its meta-level awareness of its own dabbling in mythical, religious, and spiritual discourse.
The Xena universe is housed in a prominent oral tradition. By placing Xena in ancient Greece, the show’s creators can ask the kinds of metaphysical questions that Greece’s philosophers asked. The show even offers an explanation for why we haven’t heard of Xena along with Socrates and Plato: she has been written out of the history books by those in power (all men) who decided what to record. Throughout the show, Gabrielle is the bard who records Xena’s adventures in what become known as the “Xena Scrolls.” Thus what the audience is witnessing is a retelling of history, a recreation of our most prominent and indoctrinated myths, including that of Christ. But what the scrolls mostly contain is a log of Gabrielle and Xena’s adventures, including their many mystical experiences of reaching the divine through death and transfiguration.
The “meta” element to which I alluded concerns the way in which the show is aware of its audience, and particularly one segment thereof: the queer community, which is let in on this cryptic knowledge. The esoteric notion of same- sex love is a central subtext of Xena. These undertones give queer viewers a secret language in which to communicate with the Xena universe. The openly gay producer of the show, Liz Friedman, is arguably the catalyst for such content. In an interview, she acknowledged: “That’s one of the best parts of the job, getting to throw in references that I know the fans who are interested in that will pick up on, but don’t necessarily flash any irrevocable red lights” (B, 2003). An example of such innuendo occurs in season two, when the currently dead Xena possesses the body of Autolycus and instructs Gabrielle to “Close your eyes. Close them tightly and think of me.” As Xena leans in to kiss Gabrielle, the scene cuts to show Autolycus and Gabrielle kissing.
Another moment occurs in an episode in which the day keeps repeating itself over and over until Xena discovers the cause. A frustrated Xena lashes out at Gabrielle and her friend Joxer: “It’s not the Fates; it’s not Ares; it’s not something that I ate. No, I have no poison dart marks. I have no Bacchae bites.” A distracted Joxer then points to Xena’s neck and asks, “Is that a hickey?” The characters fall silent as both Xena and Gabrielle look away from the camera sheepishly. The hickey reference was Xena’s way of sneaking in a lesbian innuendo, a secret nod to its growing GLBT audience; and hey, the remark was tossed off during an endlessly repeating day, so no one will remember it, right? Similar innuendos—originally devised as a marketing ploy, perhaps—would eventually become part of the larger theme of redemption and love. As one critic observed: “As the series progressed, the sly jokes and innuendo turned into loving glances and a physical closeness that was increasingly intimate in nature, beyond the kinds of interactions one sees between ‘just friends’” (B, 2003).
Despite the subtext, there is no explicit affirmation of either Xena or Gabrielle’s sexual orientation. In fact, they both had relationships with men, but they always circled back to their eternal bond. Renée O’Connor, the actress who plays Gabrielle, admitted in an interview: “I think Gabrielle is probably searching for her soulmate and that she found it in Xena, actually. Having been through the entire series, she’s probably been searching for the love of her life, which is Xena” (B, 2003). The relationship becomes transgressive because it claims love cannot be defined in binary terms such as homo- and heterosexual. The relationship transcends the restrictive categories of human language, elevating Gabrielle and Xena’s love out of the human and into the divine realm.
Xena’s relationship with the Greek gods is always one of dysfunction, distrust, and disbelief. As the introduction to each episode announces: “In a time of ancient gods, warlords and kings, a land in turmoil cried out for a hero.” Xena forged her own path with a warrior cry and a sword. She didn’t rely on anything or anyone outside of what she knew. Her relation to the Greek pantheon was summarized succinctly by one critic (Fillingim, 2009): “In episodes where the Greek gods play a prominent role, the plot generally shows Xena’s moral, tactical, and intellectual superiority to the gods.” Xena finds herself within a myth culture in which she is not dependent on the gods but entirely self-sufficient, existing in another realm altogether.
But there’s another way in which Xena is influenced by Greek thought. In the Symposium, Plato describes a deep desire for a universal love: “Nor will his vision of the beautiful take the form of a face, or of hands, or of anything that is of the flesh … but subsisting of itself and by itself in an eternal oneness.” In this dialogue with the priestess, Diotima, Plato describes the quest for beauty—which Plato conflates with love—as a means of spiritual ascent: “Starting from the individual beauties, the quest for the universal beauty must find him ever mounting the heavenly ladder.” This knowledge of the divine may be considered a kind of esoteric knowledge that only a few people will acquire. According to Arthur Versluis, “Platonic philosophy is in some way esoteric, because it asserts that true knowledge is attained only by a few philosophers through deep contemplation while most people are deceived by the shadowy illusions of the physical world” (Bailey, 2009). In this scenario, Xena is one of those for whom this esoteric knowledge is not out of reach.
The Symposium does not neglect the purely physical attraction to beautiful boys, which indeed is presented as the first step toward the love of beauty in the abstract, and from there a love of wisdom, virtue, and the Good. Moving to Xena and Gabrielle, it is arguable that their relationship is not defined by sex but by the absence of any sexual category. In this sense Xena represents a universal love that is distinct from sexual love. The show neither labels nor defines the love between the protagonists, taking it to a level of transcendence that subsumes a physical union along with a mystical union of two souls. Reflecting on her former life of killing and revenge, Xena credits Gabrielle with her transformation: “Sure. I was trapped in a cycle of violence and hatred. And no matter how I tried to break free, something always pulled me back—until you. … You talk about trying to find your way, but to me, you are my way.”
Jesus, Mary, and Xena
This divine love between women is not a sexual love but an eroticized love. Briggs (2009) writes, “the death and resurrection of Xena and Gabrielle (homo)eroticize Christ but simultaneously spiritualize, desexualize and occlude any lesbian relationship between them.” The show plays on this eroticism with the footage of the crucifixion.
A similar eroticism can be seen in pictures of Jesus’ crucifixion where he is seen as mother, giving birth to the church, Ecclesia. The sentiment is expressed by the medieval anchoress Julian of Norwich, who wrote in 1395: “This fair lovely word ‘Mother’ it is so sweet and so kind in itself that it may not verily be said of none ne to none but of him and to him that is very Mother of life and of all.” Julian’s expressive words to describe Christ as mother derive from early Christian mystical writings in which Christ was seen as the divine tree of life, the giver of life itself.
This idea of an eroticized or ecstatic Jesus is developed further by Kripal and Hanegraaff (2008): “Western esoteric sources often describe the attainment of an ineffable mystical gnosis in erotic and sexual terms, that is, as a ‘consummation,’ ‘embrace,’ ‘unitive bliss,’ ‘rapture,’ ‘kiss,’ ‘cleaving,’ ‘marriage,’ and so on.” By eroticizing Xena on the cross, the series is not only connecting Xena with the Christian Savior but with an eroticized Christ. What’s more, Gabrielle is also crucified alongside Xena, implying a kind of unity in duality. The double crucifixion symbolizes two bodies dying to unite into oneness, one soul complete and purified in death. It is at the end of the episode that the souls of the heroes are seen to take flight, and, hand in hand, ascend together to heaven. The crucifixion of Xena and Gabrielle is the transcendent representation of the feminine mystical divine.
Xena and Gabrielle’s relationship is further eroticized in the final episode, in which Gabrielle attempts to rescue Xena, who has died yet again. To save Xena, Gabrielle drinks from the Fountain of Strength and kisses Xena in order to restore her by passing along the contents of the fountain. The kiss is reminiscent of the portrayal of Jesus kissing Ecclesia, which in turn is a reference to the Song of Solomon in the Old Testament. The Venerable Bede, an 8th-century monk, interpreted the Song of Songs as an eroticized love poem between the soul and God. If we think of the love between Xena and Gabrielle in this light, then it becomes apparent that what is between them is not a sexual lust, but sensual love that is divine in nature. It is love between two souls, two halves that have sought to become one.
At the start of the fifth season, Gabrielle and Xena find themselves in the spiritual realm, and Gabrielle tries to save Xena’s soul as she raises an army in Hell. With Xena and Gabrielle separated, Xena returns to the dark side, and it is their reunion that saves Heaven and Hell, restoring balance to the world. As Xena and Gabrielle are resurrected by their friends, Xena discovers that she is pregnant with Eve—an immaculate conception of sorts. Xena has become the Virgin Mary. “Her birth brings about the twilight of the Greek gods,” writes Kathleen Kennedy (2007). “But in the modern western world, the name Eve automatically invokes the mother of ‘mankind’ whose disobedience of God leads to the ‘fall of man.’” Xena is savior, mother, and protector of human life. It is through motherhood and love that she saves the world, not divine intervention. Write Kripal and Hanegraaff (2008) of this phenomenon: “In the depths of human sexuality lies hidden the secret of religion, occultism, magical power, spirituality, transcendence, life, God, Being itself. … We are dealing with a metaphysics of sex, itself intimately entwined with the destiny of the soul.” Xena’s spiritual journey brands her as savior, and mother, and all that is left is her final redemption in death.
Her Courage Will Change the World
Xena uses a feminist lens to explore the possibility of a world where the boundary between myth and reality is blurred, and where the esoteric meets the mysticism of divine love. The show relies on the esoteric knowledge of various spiritual traditions—as well as a lesbian subtext—to further its ultimate assertion that one’s mystical path is not toward God but toward the divine love of two souls joining as one. The show takes the audience through Xena’s spiritual journey in tandem with Gabrielle’s. Enlightenment is taken to mean spiritual redemption in which one’s soul is reunited with its other half. This oneness is the universal, divine love.
Xena makes room for the possibility of a mystical experience, a unification with something greater than ourselves, that is unburdened by dogmatic scriptures, the language of binaries, or other worldly limitations. In this way, Xena subverts the particularistic love paradigms represented by both Plato and Christianity, realizing a universal love that is rooted in two human lives but not dependent upon sexual love. This love is not strictly labeled or defined, but clearly it is a type of love that transcends death, a love that is ineffable, that literally does not have a name.”
This is it! This is it exactly! Xena and Gabrielle’s love was never a sexual love. Or at least it wasn’t depicted as being sexual. It couldn’t be of course. But they found a way to work with that by still erotizing it. By still illustrating that it is a very romantic type of love. Having them still kiss but in ways that provided a sort of “no homo” excuse for the network but still also providing something that of which was homoerotic.
I mean having them kiss as a water transfer is far more romantic and powerful than a kiss just to be a kiss because it’s about giving Xena the strength to fight. Gabrielle is literally reinvigorating her via kissing her. But at the same time, because she had to do it, they could get away with it happening. With showing it.
But that’s the perfect way to describe what their relationship is without giving it a label or definition in its nature that we can comprehend as a collective:
Transcendent Love.
Beyond sexuality. Beyond friendship. Beyond lovers.
But - at the same time - all of that combined together.
Their love was more emotional and spiritual in nature than it ever was sexual. But it was always romantic. It was always erotic. It was always an actual love story.
And no one was ever saying that it wasn’t ever sexual either. It’s implied frequently that they do have sex. It’s just that that could never be visually represented. And it didn’t need to be. It really didn’t need to be. You’ve got fanfiction for that. That should be enough.
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fragmentedblade · 1 year ago
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The implications that Blade and Dan Heng remember more than they admit is driving me nuts
#Fragments and scraps#I talk too much#I should probably delete this later#Not just Blade's general drive but already what Kafka said about how she was going to take off his mind#the memories of Jing Yuan‚ Jingliu‚ Dan Heng *and Yingxing* made me think he remembers a lot more than he lets on#And then Todd's quest? How he is watching the High Elder statue‚ wonders if that guy was happy‚ and tells us he is 'mourning for folly'?#And that short line uttered in that precise location after this animated short seems even more meaningful#And then Dan Heng? The way he is there? The way he knows where to he at all?#And he pours the drink and it's almost a shared drink beyond time. Once again. Like they did before#Like the wish mentioned in that one leaked Imbibitor Lunae character story. He did get it. In a way. He did get it#The way Dan Heng gazes with eyes full of tenderness and sorrow also seems to imply that he remembers somewhat#Perhaps not all. Perhaps there's not even the feeling#But it feels a bit like mourning lost friends. A bit like the gaze Jing Yuan can't help but give him at times#Perhaps not a lingering feeling Dan Heng has‚ but at least the echo of a love that once was#It also felt like he was seeing them for a moment#It felt like he remembered them#'I am not him'‚ he claims‚ over and over. And he is not wrong. But it seems like the fondness Dan Feng had for his friends#transcended the barriers of death and accompanied him to his next life somewhat#And after centuries of nothingness still Dan Heng can't help but give a tender sorrowful smile to the friends that were#It's heartbreaking that something in the four of them is still mourning‚ each in their way and as they can#What is Blade's and Jingliu's drive for revenge if not that? What is Blade's 'mourning for folly' if not that?#What is Kafka unable to control Blade's mara in the Luofu if not that? What are Jing Yuan's bouts of tiredness‚ the pressure on his chest‚#the way he welcomed his old friends with a joke? What is it if not that the fact that‚ yes‚ after using them‚ but that he let them go?#What is the weight of Dan Heng's smile and his gesture pouring the drink if not that?#No wonder they can't move on if they loved each other so much it transcended duties‚ time‚ life‚ death and madness#Edit: as per Jingliu's quest this was obviously confirmed‚ especially and most intensely in Blade's case (19/10/2023)
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floorpancakes · 3 months ago
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speaking of i rly wanna rewatch tatami galaxy. im an akawataozu two hands/dating separately type polycule truther but akawata is so douwata coded mostly in the 'akashi and doumeki are very similar and also deeply unserious but it makes them cooler romantic interests' sense
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prokopetz · 11 months ago
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Something I love about The Far Roofs is how much of a swerve its premise is if you're coming to it uninitiated.
Okay, so there's these talking rats with a culture of swashbuckling heroism – basic Redwall/Reepicheep stuff.
Also, there's a magical realm called the Far Roofs which exists above every human community, and that's where the rats go adventuring; a little weird, but you can see the precedents in popular fiction. It's like wainscot fantasy taken to its logical-yet-absurd conclusion.
By default, the game wants you to play as a fictionalised version of your (presumably human!) self and go up onto the Far Roofs to have adventures with the rats. All right, now it's coming together: it's like isekai fantasy meets The Muppet Show, with you as the obligatory human character, right?
Then we get to the nature of those adventures: the rats have this whole culture built around questing against beings they call "the Mysteries" – beasties with names like Harpy and Goblin and Unicorn. So basically it's a bunch of muppety rats on the roofs fighting Dungeons & Dragons monsters, and you go up and help them do it. Great.
And then you get to what the Mysteries are actually like, and... well, I'm going to let the following excerpt carry the weight here. (This particular bit of text also appears in a previously published work by the same author, so I'm not giving anything away that's still under wraps.)
Unicorn, which is named Numinous, dwells three steps away and beyond the world, but most often in the Farthest Roofs, where the Steppes of the Sky come down to touch the Vast and Earthen Court. There it is stepping upwards from the world, as it has always been stepping upwards from the world, caught in a moment of transcendent glory that does not complete. It simply is. Melanthios heard the footsteps of Unicorn. Melanthios heard the ringing of Unicorn’s bells. So Melanthios chased Unicorn off to the Farthest Roofs, and Melanthios did not return. Anton and Karel, who were his sons, were wiser than their father. They heard the bells but they did not follow. Instead, they memorized the scent. They gathered swords, and ropes, and nets, and they went out. They brought food and water and all manner of gear. They clung to the roofs with all four feet wheresoever after Unicorn they went. It proved no good. Anton looked up, and Karel to his brother. The world came down— That’s what Karel said. He had time to look away. He had time to bury his head in his paws. He did not see the fullness of Unicorn’s presence. He only saw Anton his brother become unreal. In the light of the moment of the Unicorn, Anton became as a paper figure in the fire. His reality burned out. His shadow seared into the roofs behind him. Where he’d stood, for just a moment, the Steppes of the Sky came down to touch the Vast and Earthen Court; and Anton was gone away. So Karel ran and Karel ran and Karel ran from the Unicorn; and all his life, he envied but was more fortunate than his brother.
These are gods. You're going up there to kill God.
Like, it's still silly wainscot fantasy with funny talking rats, but there's that tension. It's like if Fraggle Rock occasionally took a hard turn to serious cosmic horror – Lord Dunsany by way of Jim Henson – and that tonal juxtaposition was treated as something unremarkable.
Basically what I'm saying is go back The Far Roofs.
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wisesoultarot · 21 days ago
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Why will your future spouse choose you?
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Instagram | Want to tip me for my work? | For personal reading
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There exists a profound connection that transcends this lifetime, compelling them to choose you. This individual has traversed a landscape of relationships marked by numerous obstacles and disappointments, often grappling with the challenge of finding someone who embodies the feminine energy that harmonizes seamlessly with their own masculine essence. Each encounter has left them yearning for a deeper connection, a bond that goes beyond the superficial exchanges that often characterize modern relationships.
Upon meeting you, they will sense an immediate and undeniable bond that surpasses mere surface-level attraction. It will be as if the universe conspired to bring you together, and in that moment, they will recognize that you resonate with them on a much deeper plane. This recognition will be instinctual, a feeling that transcends words and logic, as if you both share a history that stretches far beyond the confines of this lifetime.
When they encounter you, it will be as if a missing piece has finally fallen into place, completing a puzzle they didn’t even know was incomplete. Your presence will evoke feelings of understanding and acceptance that they have long sought but never truly experienced. In your company, they will feel a sense of ease and comfort, as if they can finally let down their guard and reveal their true selves without fear of judgment or rejection. This connection will feel authentic and transformative, allowing them to embrace their true selves in a way they never thought possible, shedding the layers of pretense that they had worn for so long.
Most significantly, they will experience love in a way that feels entirely new, as if they are finally being seen and cherished for who they are at their core. This love will not be conditional or transactional; instead, it will be a pure expression of mutual respect and admiration. The profound sense of belonging and emotional safety that you provide will solidify their choice in you, as they come to realize that you are the partner they have been searching for all along. In your eyes, they will see a reflection of their own soul, and in your heart, they will find a sanctuary where they can truly be themselves.
Together, you will embark on a journey of growth and discovery, exploring the depths of your connection and nurturing the bond that has been forged between you. This relationship will not only enrich your lives but will also serve as a catalyst for healing and transformation, allowing both of you to flourish in ways you never imagined. As you navigate the complexities of life together, you will find strength in each other, creating a partnership that is both empowering and deeply fulfilling.
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This individual has navigated a romantic life that can best be described as rather uneventful, primarily due to the multitude of obligations they have had to shoulder for their family and household. These responsibilities, which range from daily chores to long-term commitments, have significantly impacted their ability to engage in a fulfilling romantic relationship. The weight of these duties has often left little room for personal connections, leading to a sense of longing for companionship that remains unfulfilled. As a result, they yearn for a partner who is not only willing but eager to share the load equally. They envision a relationship where the burden of responsibilities does not rest solely on one person, allowing both partners to thrive and enjoy their time together without the constant stress of unmet obligations.
In their quest for love, they seek a relationship characterized by fairness and mutual contribution, where both partners actively participate in the dynamics of their shared life. This desire for balance is rooted in a profound understanding of the challenges that arise from juggling various responsibilities, whether they be professional, familial, or personal. They hope to find someone who not only acknowledges but also values the importance of teamwork in a partnership. Such a connection would alleviate the pressure that has weighed heavily on them in the past, fostering an environment where both individuals can support each other and grow together. They dream of a partnership where responsibilities are shared, allowing for a more enjoyable and fulfilling connection that enhances both their lives.
It is highly likely that this person will deeply appreciate your own sense of responsibility and dedication. They will recognize in you a kindred spirit who understands the effort and commitment required to navigate the complexities of life. This mutual understanding could serve as a strong foundation for a more harmonious and supportive relationship. In such a partnership, both individuals would feel valued and empowered, knowing that they are working together towards common goals. The appreciation for each other's contributions would foster a sense of camaraderie and respect, creating a nurturing environment where both partners can flourish. Ultimately, this shared commitment to responsibility and partnership could lead to a fulfilling and lasting connection, one that transcends the challenges of the past and embraces the joys of a shared future.
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This individual embodies the essence of an artist, a dreamer, and a lover of beauty. Their creativity flows effortlessly, like a river of inspiration that knows no bounds. Each day is a canvas, and they approach life with the brush of imagination, painting vivid scenes that reflect their innermost thoughts and feelings. When love strikes, it becomes a catalyst for their artistic expression, often leading them to weave poetic verses that resonate with the depths of their emotions. These words, rich with passion and longing, serve as a testament to their ability to capture the ephemeral nature of love and beauty in a way that is both profound and moving.
With a vivid imagination that knows no limits, they possess the remarkable ability to manifest their desires into reality. Their mind is a kaleidoscope of colors, ideas, and dreams, each one more vibrant than the last. When you finally step into their world, it will leave them utterly astonished, as if you have unlocked a door to a realm they had only dared to dream of. Your presence will be like a breath of fresh air, invigorating and transformative, stirring the very core of their being.
Your arrival will stir a whirlwind of feelings and thoughts that have long been nestled in their mind, dormant yet yearning for expression. As a true connoisseur of beauty, they will be captivated not only by your appearance, which radiates a unique charm, but also by the profound connection they feel with you. It’s as if every brushstroke of their imagination has come to life, and this realization will sweep them off their feet, leaving them breathless in the wake of your enchanting presence.
In that moment, they will recognize that the vision they have cherished for years has materialized before them, a living embodiment of their dreams and aspirations. This enchanting encounter will ignite a spark of love that flickers brightly, compelling them to choose you as the muse they have always yearned for. The blend of admiration and affection will create a bond that feels both magical and destined, as if the universe conspired to bring you together.
Together, you will embark on a journey filled with creativity and passion, where every shared moment becomes a brushstroke on the canvas of your lives. The connection you forge will inspire them to delve deeper into their artistry, as they find new ways to express the beauty of your relationship. In your presence, they will discover a wellspring of inspiration, and their heart will sing with the melodies of love, forever grateful for the serendipity that led you to one another.
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divinationsanctuary19 · 3 months ago
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What does your soul desire? Pick a picture reading
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1. Ace of cups
You find yourself at a pivotal moment, where the whispers of your heart beckon you to open up and embrace a new wave of emotions. There is a profound desire within you to connect deeply, to share the essence of who you are with others, and to receive the same in return. You yearn for experiences that are rich with love and compassion, moments that fill you with warmth and inspire you to see beauty in the mundane. It’s as if your spirit is awakening from a long slumber, urging you to let go of past hurts and insecurities that have held you back. You long for an emotional rebirth, a chance to explore the depths of your feelings and allow them to flow freely. This surge of vulnerability can be both exhilarating and frightening, yet you are ready to embrace it, to dive into the depths of your own heart and experience life in its fullest form. You crave meaningful relationships that resonate with your soul, connections that nourish you and allow you to express your truest self without fear. The idea of love—whether it be romantic, platonic, or a deeper connection to your own self—calls to you like a siren song, inviting you to take the plunge into an ocean of possibility. In this journey, you seek not just to love, but to be loved in return, to feel seen and understood in a way that transcends words. This is a quest for a profound emotional experience, one that nurtures your spirit and fills your heart with a sense of belonging and purpose. As you stand on the threshold of this emotional awakening, you feel a sense of hope and excitement coursing through you, ready to embrace all that love has to offer.
2. The magician
You stand on the precipice of transformation, feeling the exhilarating energy of potential coursing through your veins. There is a growing awareness within you of the immense power you hold to shape your reality. You are ready to harness your skills, talents, and resources, understanding that everything you need is already at your disposal. This is a moment of profound clarity; you recognize that the universe is not merely a series of events that happen to you but rather a canvas upon which you can paint your life. Each thought, each intention, becomes a tool in your hands, empowering you to manifest your desires. You feel a surge of confidence as you consider the possibilities before you, realizing that you are not just a passive observer but an active participant in your own story. The realization that you possess the ability to influence your surroundings ignites a fire within you, fueling your ambition to create something remarkable.
As you delve deeper into this sense of empowerment, you find yourself reflecting on the importance of clarity and focus in your endeavors. The magic lies not just in your capabilities but in your ability to direct your energy with intention. You understand that true creation requires not only talent but also the discipline to refine your skills and the courage to pursue your visions despite challenges. This journey demands that you align your thoughts, beliefs, and actions, forging a path that resonates with your true purpose. In this quest, you become both the architect and the builder of your life, capable of transforming abstract ideas into tangible outcomes. You embrace the responsibility that comes with this power, knowing that your choices shape your reality, and you are committed to making decisions that honor your highest self.
However, with this newfound power comes a reminder of the balance that is essential for genuine mastery. You must remain aware of the potential distractions and illusions that can arise as you navigate this creative landscape. The thrill of your abilities may tempt you to rush forward without contemplation, but you know that patience and reflection are equally vital. You are called to remain grounded, ensuring that your ambitions align with your values and your authentic self. As you explore the depths of your capabilities, you recognize the importance of integrity in your pursuits. Your soul seeks not only to manifest your desires but also to create with purpose and meaning. In this way, you cultivate a profound sense of fulfillment, realizing that true magic lies in the harmonious interplay of your inner vision and the world around you, inviting you to create a life that resonates deeply with your essence.
3. The devil
You find yourself wrestling with an inner tension that is both exhilarating and confining, a powerful force that pulls you toward desires that seem irresistible yet leave you feeling trapped. There is a seductive allure in what you crave, whether it be material success, intoxicating relationships, or the thrill of indulgence. You are drawn to experiences that awaken your senses and challenge your limits, yet you also recognize that this same pull can lead you down a path of obsession or dependency. Your soul seeks to understand this duality—the fine line between enjoying life's pleasures and being consumed by them. This internal struggle prompts you to question what truly fulfills you, as the things you desire might bring immediate gratification but often leave a lingering emptiness once the initial excitement fades.
In this exploration of your desires, you are confronted with the shadows of your own psyche, the parts of yourself that you may have suppressed or ignored. You sense that beneath the surface of your cravings lies a deeper need for freedom and authenticity, a longing to break free from societal expectations and self-imposed limitations. This journey compels you to confront your fears and insecurities, those chains that bind you to patterns of behavior that no longer serve your highest good. You begin to realize that true liberation comes from facing these darker aspects of yourself rather than avoiding them. Embracing this shadow side allows you to reclaim your power, transforming fear into understanding and obsession into passion. Your soul seeks to navigate this complex landscape, inviting you to explore the richness of your emotions without being defined by them.
Ultimately, you long for a balance between the allure of temptation and the wisdom of restraint. You seek to transcend the immediate thrill of desire, finding deeper meaning in your pursuits that resonates with your true self. This journey challenges you to redefine what fulfillment means, shifting your focus from fleeting pleasures to enduring satisfaction. You are learning to cultivate a sense of awareness that enables you to make choices rooted in self-love and growth, rather than those driven by fear or scarcity. Your soul yearns to transform this inner conflict into a journey of empowerment, where you can embrace your desires while remaining anchored in your values. Through this process, you seek to uncover a profound sense of freedom, one that allows you to dance with your passions without becoming enslaved by them, ultimately guiding you toward a more authentic and fulfilling existence.
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headlinxr · 1 month ago
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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 ─── 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠-𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧
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SYNOPSIS  !  Sung-hoon is a renowned photographer who has managed to capture the essence of his models in a unique way, but his talent becomes his worst enemy. The moment he meets you, a young model whose beauty embodies his perfect vision of aesthetics, something dark ignites within him. What begins as an artistic fascination quickly transforms into a morbid obsession.
GENRE. non idol! au, f!reader, stalker x victim, obsession.
WARNINGS. stalking, Sung-hoon is weird, slight Stockholm syndrome.
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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The camera doesn't lie. Or at least, that's what Sung-hoon has believed for years, a truth he has carried with him in every step of his life. Through his lens, the world unfolds before him with absolute clarity, a universe reduced to lights and shadows, to shapes and textures, to a moment frozen in time that, according to him, reflects the immutable truth of existence. As a renowned photographer, Sung-hoon has achieved what few can: He has mastered his art with such skill that his images not only capture reality but also penetrate the very essence of his subjects, stripping their souls bare with almost surgical precision.
Each click of his camera is a sigh, a heartbeat, an attempt to capture the elusive. For him, photography is much more than a technical act; it is an unceasing quest for something deeper than a simple pose or a well-composed scene. In each photograph, Sung-hoon seeks to unravel the hidden essence of what he sees: that spark of vulnerability, that fragile beauty that lies behind everyday masks. The faces he photographs are not mere portraits, but windows to the truth, as if each image could decipher untold stories, repressed emotions, silenced fears. In his mastery of the interplay between light and shadow, he has found his most authentic voice, a visual language that allows him, with each shot, to transcend the limitations of the physical and touch the intangible.
He is a master in creating atmospheres, an alchemist of light who transforms the ordinary into something sublime. He knows that light, as elusive as life itself, has the power to reveal and conceal, to create depth in the superficial, and to give shape to what seems inert. For him, each shadow is a promise, and each flash of light, a revelation. In his hands, the camera becomes an almost divine instrument, capable of immortalizing moments that, in their transience, seem eternal. And yet, behind this unparalleled skill, there is a reality that Sung-hoon has refused for so long that he has come to forget it. His camera, which has been his most faithful companion, has also been his jailer.
Because while his art has elevated him to the pinnacle of recognition, it has condemned him to a solitary existence. The dedication he has put into his work, unwavering and absolute, has cost him much more than his time. He has sacrificed a personal life, a life he could never integrate with his vocation. He never had a partner who understood him, nor friends who shared his universe, nor family members who dared to call his attention outside of the studio. Love, friendship, human connections, seemed to him minor distractions in the face of the greatness of his photographic mission. In his mind, there was no room for anything other than visual perfection, the constant search for that transcendent image that could touch the very essence of life.
But while his world was being built through the lens, a subtle and silent darkness began to take shape within him. Each photo he took was a window to the outside, but at the same time, it closed the doors of his soul even more. The camera granted him the power to see and capture everything happening around him, but it denied him the ability to see what was happening in his own heart. In that space where shadows intertwine with light, where the ephemeral becomes eternal, Sung-hoon got lost. He became a distant observer, trapped in an endless cycle of images, but with no real contact with the life that existed beyond his lens. The loneliness he dragged along, hidden within the folds of his success, grew deeper, more overwhelming, until one day, he could no longer escape it.
As Sung-hoon's recognition grew, so did the shadow that loomed over his life. Fame, like a brilliant reflection, mirrored an image of success that the world applauded, but he felt increasingly disconnected, more alien to that applause, as if everything were part of a movie that was not his own. The galleries, the exhibitions, the critics' laudatory comments, the flashes capturing his moments of glory: none of it managed to penetrate the ice armor he had forged over the years. The camera, his tool of revelation, had made him an expert in the truth of others, but not in his own truth. And, despite being a creator of worlds, within himself lay a deep, unfathomable void that even the most powerful images could not fill.
In the stillness of his studio, surrounded by thousands of stories frozen on photographic paper, Sung-hoon found himself in a strange space, filled with foreign memories but empty of his own. The walls, adorned with his best works, offered him a vision of the world he had captured with meticulousness, but the images did not speak to him. Those faces, those gazes frozen in a second that seemed eternal, watched him with a fixity that overwhelmed him, as if judging him in their silence. The gestures he had halted in his journey through life now appeared to him as ghosts of a past he himself had lost. Each photograph was a masterpiece, yes, but also a cruel reminder that he had been a spectator in the lives of others, without truly participating in his own. The distance between him and his art had become an insurmountable abyss.
The studio lighting, which he had so expertly mastered when capturing the essence of others, now seemed distant and cold to him. The shadows he had used to build atmospheres in his photos now enveloped him like a mantle of darkness in his own life. His soul, which he had learned to sculpt in each image, slipped through his fingers like water, like a film unrolling before him, but which he could never touch. Sometimes, at the end of the day, when the last light of the day began to fade, he found himself in front of his photographs, in a silence that devoured him. A feeling of incompleteness overwhelmed him, as if his constant search in the eyes of others had been a way to evade his own face. Why, despite the fame, did he feel that something within him was slowly crumbling? The answer was not in the lens of his camera, but in the absence of a real connection with himself.
It was a typical work afternoon, without any preambles or announcements, when something inside him changed. While reviewing the photographs that would soon be part of his new exhibition, one in particular caught his attention. It was you, a young woman, with your gaze lost on the horizon, as if your thoughts floated beyond your body. In your expression, so laden with melancholy, Sung-hoon saw something he had never perceived before: His own reflection. The sorrow in your eyes, the fragility emanating from your face, the sadness seeping through your gestures, everything seemed so familiar. It was as if he himself, in his bewilderment and emptiness, had become you, trapped in a moment he couldn't let go of.
In that instant, the camera stopped being a simple tool to capture reality and transformed into a mirror. A mirror that reflected not only the image of its subject but also that of his own soul, slowly crumbling, invisible to the eyes of others. You were not just another subject in his photographic archive; you represented what he had left behind, what he had never been able to live. The melancholy of that image seeped into his very being, like an underground river that had finally found its way to the surface.
In that instant, the camera stopped being a simple tool to capture reality and transformed into a mirror. A mirror that reflected not only the image of its subject but also that of his own soul, slowly crumbling, invisible to the eyes of others. You were not just another subject in his photographic archive; you represented what he had left behind, what he had never been able to live. The melancholy of that image seeped into his very being, like an underground river that had finally found its way to the surface.
Sung-hoon was forced to confront the question he had been avoiding for so long: How many times, while observing others, had he seen his own emptiness reflected in their eyes? How many times had he searched in the gestures of his subjects for the humanity he had lost, as if he could find something of himself in the faces of others? Each photograph, he thought, had been a search to find what he had not been able to find in his own life. He had spent years chasing a truth that only existed in the shadows of his lens, without realizing that, in the process, he had stopped seeing the light within himself.
That night, when the studio lights went out and darkness began to fill the corners of the room, Sung-hoon found himself in front of the mirror. The reflection he saw there was not that of the renowned photographer, the man admired for his skill, for his unique vision. It was the face of a weary man, marked by years of sacrifices, of renunciations, of living in the world of images without ever daring to live in his own flesh. The dimness of the room was reflected in his eyes, filled with shadows, unfulfilled desires, lost affections. And as he looked at himself, he saw the traces of loneliness that he could no longer hide, the marks of a being who had been running for too long, without really knowing where to.
It was at that precise moment when something broke inside him. As if a window in your soul had opened, finally letting in the fresh and renewing air of introspection. The camera, which had been his refuge, his lifeline, his prison, ceased to be the only means of expression in his life. And for the first time in years, Sung-hoon began to wonder if it was possible to live outside the lens, if he could find a new way to connect with the world, to stop being a spectator and become a participant. Would he be able to find a life that was his own, without the mediation of the camera?
The search for truth in others had brought him there, to that breaking point. But now, something was beginning to take shape in his mind. Maybe the story he really needed to capture wasn't that of others, nor the image of a distant subject, but his own. The camera would no longer be his only way of seeing; perhaps the time had come to learn to look, for the first time, without filters.
Despite the internal storm that was tearing him apart, Sung-hoon found himself being pulled by an almost mechanical impulse towards the meeting he had with Jake. The appointment was marked in his agenda like a beacon guiding him towards a destiny he could not evade, a point in time that, no matter how much his soul screamed in resistance, he had to fulfill. In his mind, chaos reigned, a whirlwind of doubts and unease that rose like black clouds above him, so dense that he could barely see the light that once propelled him. Despite the years of success and recognition he had harvested in his career, an unfathomable void devoured his being. That void, which neither fame nor applause could fill, was his constant companion, his inseparable shadow. But still, he got up that morning, with a heaviness that crushed his shoulders, and headed to the café where he would meet Jake, his long-time companion, a man whose relationship with life was so different from his that he seemed from another world.
Jake had always been his counterpoint, his antithesis, and at the same time, his reflection. While Sung-hoon got lost in the dark depth of photography, searching for the soul of his subjects, Jake glided over the surface of life, finding beauty in simplicity and human connections with an ease that Sung-hoon had never experienced. Jake was a man who saw life in bright colors, with a cheerful disposition that contrasted with the photographer's somber and analytical gaze. For him, each encounter, each face was a story told without the need for capture, while Sung-hoon looked through the camera, searching for shadows and reflections, the invisible that could only be observed through the lens. But despite their differences, Jake was his companion, and that meeting was a bond that still maintained the appearance of normalcy in a world that was slipping through his fingers.
Upon arriving at the café, the feeling of unreality enveloped him strongly. The bustle of conversations, the sound of coffee being poured into cups, and the aroma that filled the air seemed like distant echoes to him, as if he were looking at the world from the distance of a photograph, frozen and distant. Each object in the place, each face that crossed his path, seemed like a lifeless painting, a static image that had nothing to offer him beyond its fleeting existence. Only the constant buzzing in his mind kept him anchored to that reality, but everything felt like a dream he hadn't chosen himself.
When Jake greeted him, his face lit up with that broad and contagious smile that had always been so bewildering to him. Sung-hoon looked at him, recognizing in him the unyielding energy that he so often wished to possess but never could. Next to Jake, there was a figure that seemed familiar, but he still couldn't put a name to it. A young woman, whose presence seemed to fill the space with a natural light that had nothing to do with the shadows Sung-hoon had grown accustomed to. It's you, your smile was so open and generous that it contrasted with the coldness surrounding Sung-hoon, like a ray of sunshine entering a gloomy room. Despite your apparent tranquility, your energy was so vibrant that it seemed to fill the air around you, flooding the room with a vitality that Sung-hoon felt was foreign.
—I'd like you to meet (Y/N)— said Jake, with a spark in his eyes that Sung-hoon couldn't ignore. —She's my new model and, well, also someone I've been dating lately.—
Sung-hoon nodded mechanically, unable to find words beyond polite formality. His mind, on the other hand, was already beginning to process the image of you. Something felt unsettling to him, as if your presence challenged the stillness he had sought in the photograph. When you extended your hand to him, your gesture was warm and filled with that energy that Sung-hoon had never understood, as natural and genuine as the air he breathed. Despite his attempts to maintain emotional distance, Sung-hoon, inside, was as tense as a wire, with his jaw clenched and his fingers closing around his hand with a rigidity he couldn't disguise. It was as if he were touching something that didn't belong to him, something he couldn't possess.
—(Y/N), it's a pleasure to meet you— he said, with his usual cold and calculated tone, but despite his control, a small crack opened in his voice, a slight tremor that betrayed the internal storm shaking his chest.
You looked at him with a smile that, although warm, never wavered. Your posture was relaxed, completely oblivious to the conflict raging within him. It was a sight that seemed out of place in Sung-hoon's world. In the photograph he had captured the day before, you had been a shadow of yourself, a figure breathing sadness, deep melancholy, as if the world had stopped offering something worthy of your gaze. He had captured that essence, that gaze lost on the horizon, that fragility that so attracted him, seeking in you what he himself felt was missing: A naked truth, almost painful, that could only be understood through a lens. But now, in front of him, stood a completely different woman. The melancholy he had imagined was replaced by a vibrant light, an energy that seemed so foreign to the image he had created in his mind. It was not the sad figure he had seen in his camera, but a beacon of joy, a warm glow that illuminated everything around him.
Sung-hoon, for a moment, was paralyzed, as if time had stopped. The figure of the young woman in front of him was not the same one he had captured. The reflection he had found in his camera, the sadness and depth he thought he understood, crumbled before his eyes. Reality was imposing itself with a force that bewildered him. This woman was not a shadow, not an emptiness; you were the very antithesis of what he had sought. Something twisted inside him, a mix of frustration and fascination, as if the image he had created, the one he had conceived through his lens, was being torn from his being.
Was that the same woman he had portrayed? Was it possible for a captured image to be so radically different from reality? Confusion overwhelmed him, frustration began to take shape, mingling with a strange feeling of jealousy, as if your life were a slap in the face to the truth he had tried to find in his work.
While the conversation continued between Jake and you, Sung-hoon remained silent, his gaze fixed on you, who now seemed an impossible enigma to decipher. Every word you spoke, every move you made, confirmed something he feared: The image he had built of you no longer existed, and he was unable to comprehend the real woman standing before him. The photograph, which had always been his refuge and his way of understanding the world, now betrayed him, crumbling in his hands.
With each breath, a small dark spark began to burn within his being. It was no longer about admiration, no longer just fascination. It was something deeper, something that awakened in him an even greater sense of emptiness. There was something he couldn't reach, something he had touched in his chamber but that now seemed to slip through his fingers, like the light he had tried so hard to seize.
And as his heart beat with growing anxiety, he realized something terrifying: Perhaps photography hadn't given him what he thought it had. Maybe what he needed to capture wasn't in the world he saw through the lens, but in the darkness that hid within him.
From that day on, something in Sung-hoon began to crumble like an old film that, exposed to light, starts to tear and disintegrate. His initial fascination with you, a light curiosity, an admiration fueled by the desire to capture your ephemeral beauty, slowly transformed into an excessive obsession. The lens of his camera, that object he had used for years to spy on the human soul, now took on a different weight, a dark power that seemed to dictate the rules of the relationship. He no longer saw you as a fleeting muse, but as an immaculate canvas, a virgin territory that had to be conquered over and over again. Each click of the shutter was not just a reminder of his technical prowess, but a twisted validation of his need to possess the image of you, to freeze it in a perpetual instant, to impose his will upon you. Each shot was a subtle, almost imperceptible affirmation that what he captured through his camera was his. In his mind, distorted by obsession, each shot reinforced the idea that his love, his devotion to you, was reciprocated, that his control over the image meant control over your being.
The first time Sung-hoon photographed you without your consent, it wasn't an accident; it was a chance disguised as an opportunity. You were sitting on the edge of a window, motionless, looking out at the garden as if the outside world were an extension of your thoughts. The soft afternoon light slipped through the curtains, illuminating your face with an almost celestial clarity. In that moment, Sung-hoon raised the camera instinctively, almost as if the gesture were an extension of his own being. There was no time to think about it, no space for reflection. It was a visceral impulse, a need to capture the image before it faded, as if your beauty were a flash of light that only he could capture, preserve, and, in his mind, possess. The sound of the shutter, so familiar, vibrated in his chest with an indescribable satisfaction, a shiver that ran down his spine. In that single second, something inside him broke even more. The image he was creating was not simply that of a beautiful woman, nor just another of his artistic photographs. It was an attempt to possess you, to trap you, to hold you in a space that he controlled. Through the lens, you became a static object, a being that, for him, no longer existed in the unpredictable flow of time, but in a capsule of light and shadow that only he could decode.
The camera, which had once been his tool to capture the essence of reality, began to transform into a channel to something much darker, a means to impose his will, to create his own distorted version of the truth. Thus, he began to photograph you compulsively, without rest. The sessions were no longer scheduled or agreed upon; they were driven by an uncontrollable impulse fueled by the need to see you in your purest, most fragmented, most his form. Sung-hoon was not just a photographer; he saw himself as a sculptor in the darkness, molding reality, shaping your figure with the precision of his lens, seeking perfection in every angle, in every light. He asked you to stay for an "improvised session," suggested poses with an apparent delicacy that disguised itself as professionalism, but in every gesture, every instruction, there was an insatiable need for control. The power of the camera, the ability to capture a moment in time, became a game of manipulation, a dance in which he was not only the director but the absolute creator.
Each image created was another step towards the achievement of his ideal, an ideal that distorted both your figure and reality itself. There was something perverse in the way he looked at you, a fascination that went beyond mere aesthetic pursuit. It was no longer just about capturing the beauty he had found in his other subjects; in you, he sought something more, something that belonged to him, a beauty he could hold in his power. And, like a painter who wants to capture the soul of his muse in every stroke, Sung-hoon aspired for that beauty to be his, only his, until it merged with his own vision. The camera was no longer just a medium; it had become an instrument of control, an artifact that, in his hands, could strip the woman of your humanity, transforming you into a frozen and manipulated image.
The sessions dragged on indefinitely, and you, although initially immersed in the fascination of art, began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. At first, you thought that Sung-hoon was simply an eccentric, a man trapped in his art, like those cursed geniuses of history who saw the world through a unique, distorted lens. You tried to convince yourself that your concerns were an overreaction, that you weren't seeing things clearly. But as the days went by, something inside you began to resist, as if a small alarm in your subconscious was going off. Every glance Sung-hoon directed at you, every moment he spent in front of the camera, made you feel as if his presence was constantly being analyzed, dissected, reduced to a series of visual formulas that he controlled at will. It was no longer just about capturing his image, but about taking possession of you. Each gesture, each instruction, felt like another strategy to strip you of your identity, to make it fit into the image he had created of you.
After one of those long sessions, you met with Jake to talk about what you had been feeling, even though the words seemed inadequate to describe the discomfort that was overwhelming you. You feared that by expressing myself, your feelings might seem excessive, melodramatic. However, something inside you told you that you couldn't ignore it any longer.
—Jake— you began, your voice wavering, —I'm not sure how to explain it, but... Sung-hoon is being weird with me. He is constantly taking pictures of me, but it's not just for work. Sometimes I feel like he isn't seeing the person I am, but rather an image he has created in his mind. It makes me feel… Uncomfortable. As if he were watching me to decipher something I can't control.—
Jake looked at you thoughtfully, but in his expression, there was something that suggested indifference. In his world, your image in Sung-hoon's camera was not just a portrait; it was an open door to fame. The name of Sung-hoon, so well-known, could be the key that launched your career. What better way to rise in the artistic world than to be under his lens?
—Come on, darling— he said with a confident smile. —Sung-hoon is eccentric, I know, but he's not doing anything wrong. You have to see this as an opportunity. Not everyone is lucky enough to be photographed by him. This could be just what you need to take the next step in your career.—
Despite Jake's reassuring words, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The discomfort you had started to feel with Sung-hoon persisted, growing with each session. Every time he looked at you through the lens, his eyes seemed not only to capture your image but to scrutinize, to penetrate deep within. In his mind, the photographs were not just images, they were not simply captures of a moment. They were symbols of his control, his power, his one-sided and uncontrollable love. In Sung-hoon's universe, each photograph was a declaration: I possess you, I have understood you, I have made you mine.
Meanwhile, Sung-hoon continued his obsessive collection of images. Each click of the shutter was another step towards the creation of a distorted version of you, a version that only he knew and that no one else could understand. In his mind, the photographs wove together like threads forming an invisible web, a space he controlled, where his impossible and unrequited love could live, eternal, beyond the truth.
As Sung-hoon's obsession deepened, his once contained and meticulous nature began to crumble slowly, like an hourglass whose grain of sand never ceased to fall. The darkness that surrounded him grew denser, like a thick fog that took over the room, the air, the space he occupied. Your perfection, so incandescent and ephemeral in its image, was no longer just your face, nor the curve of your body under the soft light of the sunset. No, you yourself had become the very essence of his vision, the focus to which Sung-hoon had dedicated every millimeter of his art. For him, you were no longer a woman; you were a symbol, a canvas yet to be painted, a mystery yet to be solved, and the camera, that extension of his being, was his only passport to that distorted world he had begun to build around you.
The photographer, trapped in his own twisted conception of love and beauty, no longer just captured the light that fell upon you like a brush caressing the canvas. He had become a sculptor of shadows, an architect of moments, a man trying to redraw reality to match the chaos that inhabited his mind. And while his lens rested upon you, his gaze went far beyond the visible, beyond the external appearance that so fascinated others. His eye, always trained to capture the raw and natural beauty of life, now dedicated itself to observing every crack in your soul, every fragment of vulnerability you tried to hide. His vision, once purely artistic, had become an act of possession.
Sung-hoon was not just a mere observer; he infiltrated, like a painter delving into the history of his muse before putting a single stroke on the canvas. He began to explore your intimacy with the same precision with which he composed a perfect shot. In every word you let slip unintentionally, in every sigh that was just for him, the photographer saw an opportunity to discover something new, something deeper. He knew you more than you could imagine. The cracks you had tried to cover with an impeccable facade were now his field of study. He knew of your fears, your dark memories, the scars you carried in your soul, those stories that, had it not been for Sung-hoon's meticulous patience, would have remained as secrets buried in time. He was not simply an observer, but a collector of broken memories, a gatherer of the fragments of your being that you had never shown to anyone.
In his daily interactions, his deep knowledge of your personal life slipped into the conversation with the subtlety of a sharp knife. In a casual comment, Sung-hoon inserted fragments of his private life, as if they were simple, unimportant observations. —I remember that time you mentioned your father, as if you were still seeking his approval— he said quietly one day, while adjusting the lights in the studio. —And that little corner in your apartment, where you keep the old letters... You always keep it closed, why is that?— Each word, each insinuation was like a fishing line cast into the wind, trapping you in an invisible net of your own past, a net that, although as fine as a thread, tightened over time until you could no longer move without being aware of Sung-hoon's constant watchfulness.
For him, it was not enough to capture the light that surrounded you; he had to seize your soul. With each shot, with each scene he asked to repeat, Sung-hoon was searching for something deeper: A distorted truth that only he could see, a facet of you that existed only in his mind. The camera, which had once been his tool to capture the essence of others, transformed into his chain of control, a tool of power that connected him to you, an invisible bond that kept you close, that kept you in his line of sight. And although you began to feel the pressure, the threat of the invisible, you couldn't escape. At first thinking that it was all part of Sung-hoon's eccentricity, his dedication to perfection. But soon, the truth became evident: you weren't being photographed; you were being observed, studied, dismantled piece by piece.
Sung-hoon never resorted to brute force or open threats. He was much more skilled than that. His control was not in strong words or confrontation; his power lay in subtlety, in silent gestures, in the whispers that accompanied each shot, in the way he manipulated the perception of reality through the lens of his camera. He didn't need to say it openly: He knew you were beginning to understand the extent of his influence. Each suggestion, each gesture of support, was imbued with a tacit expectation, the expectation that you would follow him, that you would continue playing your role in the image he had created. He offered you opportunities, but those opportunities were nothing more than carefully woven traps, designed to make you more dependent on him, to draw you even closer to the distorted picture of yourself.
And, like a photographer who discovers an imperfection in a seemingly perfect image, Sung-hoon begins to notice the cracks in your facade. Your smile, which had once been natural and carefree, was beginning to seem forced. Your responses, once so full of life, were now shorter, more evasive. The sparkle in your eyes, which I had captured so many times, was now subtly fading. For Sung-hoon, each of these moments was a revelation. He was not only seeing the woman you pretended to be, but he was also seeing the woman he had begun to shape in his mind, a creation that had no escape. The pressure, invisible but palpable, was his signature. In the tremor of an unspoken word, in the imperceptible shift in posture, Sung-hoon found what he had been searching for: Beauty in fragility, art in oppression, control in broken perfection.
Meanwhile, you began to feel trapped in your own image, a distorted reflection that Sung-hoon had created around you. He, the god of shadows and light, saw the truth behind the masks, and you could no longer hide what he wished to see. The worst part is that, in his mind, you were already part of his creation, a muse that only existed through him. In the web he had woven, you found yourself trapped, not knowing if the exit was an illusion or if the only way to escape was to become someone else, someone completely different from the image he had shaped. But, as always happened in photography, there was no turning back: The exposure had been made, and what remained was a fixed, unchangeable image that only he could understand.
As the days slid by slowly, like a movie advancing in slow motion under the relentless direction of fate, you began to perceive how the walls of your own world, once open and full of possibilities, were closing in, trapping you with a subtle but devastating force. It was as if you were trapped in a photograph that never stopped being taken, each moment immortalized, each gesture meticulously framed. Every word Sung-hoon uttered, every glance he cast, were no longer mere interactions; they were fragments of a story he had written without your permission, a tale in which you were trapped, like a porcelain figure in the lens of a photographer obsessed with capturing your essence, with no voice or vote over your own portrait. It was a story that had ceased to belong to you, a narrative from which you had become an unwilling spectator, watching yourself from a distance that stripped you of your humanity.
In his mind, the perception of time and reality began to blur like the light dissolving on the horizon, tinting everything around him with increasingly dense shadows. Before, your world had been clear, like a well-exposed photograph; but now everything seemed to be revealed through a dark filter, as if the image were taken with a defective lens that distorted colors and shapes. The man who had been, until then, your mentor and companion, began to reveal himself as a dark, twisted, and distant figure, whose influence had infiltrated her life with the subtlety of a rising tide. Sung-hoon, with his gaze fixed like that of a predator, had managed to weave his control over you in such a subtle and meticulous manner that, at times, you wondered if you had ever been free. Freedom, once a natural right, now seemed to You an illusion fading among the folds of a photograph that had been taken without her consent.
Sung-hoon had transformed every corner of your life into a stage where only he dictated the rules. In his mind, every scene had to be directed by him, and you were nothing more than the actress chosen to play a role you didn't know. At first, you had believed that his obsession with you was the passionate fervor of an artist who seeks, like a painter lost in the meticulous details of his muse, to capture every nuance of your essence. But soon you realized that the camera, that extension of the human eye in which he trusted blindly, had become a watchful eye, an unrelenting lens that not only captured your image but also disfigured you, twisted you, and reduced you to a distorted shadow. The light, that sublime element which once revealed beauty, had ceased to be your ally. Now, each ray of light seemed like a threat, a deadly trap in which you found yourself ensnared, trapped within the frame of a reality he had created for you.
Sung-hoon's camera was not simply a tool for creating art; it had evolved into a weapon of control. Each click, each capture, was an assertion of his dominance, a manifestation of his power over your life and identity. In his eyes, you were not a complete woman, but a canvas on which he could paint without your consent, a blank page that had to be molded according to his will. And the most devastating thing of all was that, at first, You had believed he saw you as you truly were, that his work as a photographer had allowed him to delve into the very essence of your being. But, over time, the truth began to slowly unveil itself, like an old layer of paint peeling away, revealing the cracks in the facade he had built. Sung-hoon didn't see you. He didn't understand you. I had reduced you to an image, a figure projected onto the wall, a puppet whose only mission was to fit into the distorted vision of your world.
However, something within you began to awaken. It was a small spark, almost imperceptible, like a glimmer in the darkness, but it grew with each passing day under Sung-hoon's control. The feeling of being trapped became increasingly unbearable, as if his room were an invisible prison, a glass cell that only reflected your own image, as if You were looking at yourself through a mirror that only returned your despair. Every time he looked at you, every word, every seemingly innocent gesture of affection, transformed into a symbol of his manipulation. The casual comments about his past, the insinuations about his darkest secrets, no longer seemed like simple observations; they became sharp knives buried in your skin, constantly reminding you that he knew your vulnerabilities, that he could destroy you if he wanted to.
Each day that passed under his dominion, you felt your freedom fading more and more, like a photograph that, as it develops, begins to dissolve in the water, losing its definition, its life, its color. The pressure that was once subtle had transformed into an unstoppable force, a rising tide that pushed you towards the unknown, towards the disintegration of your own identity. The camera, which had been your refuge, your art, your way of seeing the world, had now become your jailer. And Sung-hoon, the man you had admired, had transformed into the architect of your destiny, a god who shaped reality at his whim, playing with light and shadow like a puppeteer who manipulates humans to his will.
Like a lighthouse in the midst of the storm, the possibility of escape began to become clearer, though still vague. You knew you couldn't keep living trapped in the shadows that Sung-hoon had cast over you. The struggle to regain your freedom turned into a frantic race against time, a desperate sprint to prevent him from completely destroying the public image you had so carefully cultivated. You began to search for clues, to scrutinize the details, to look for the cracks in the perfect facade of your life that Sung-hoon had built. You were like a detective in your own life, unraveling the web of lies he had woven around you, with every word, every action of his turned into a clue about his hidden intentions.
As your thoughts organized themselves, You began to notice details that had previously gone unnoticed. The photo shoots, which once seemed like an artistic ritual, now revealed their true nature: A carefully designed strategy to keep you close, to continue controlling your image and, therefore, your life. The compliments I once considered sincere, the insinuations that seemed like flattery, the intense looks from Sung-hoon, were no longer mere displays of admiration. They had become tools of manipulation, like the light a photographer uses to highlight only the elements they want, the viewer to see, darkening everything else. The truth, like a film that has been exposed to the sun for too long, began to reveal itself with blinding clarity.
Sung-hoon, however, was not a man who could be disarmed so easily. In his mind, each interaction with you was another shot, another take that brought him closer to his ultimate goal: to possess you completely, to break you until only the perfect image he had forged in his mind remained. He knew you were starting to notice his control, but, like a photographer playing with light and shadow, he remained in the shadows, hidden, manipulating every piece of the puzzle without your seeing it. His power lay in the ability to make you feel vulnerable, to introduce thoughts into your mind that would leave You trapped in your own confusion, like a poison silently seeping into the current of your consciousness.
Time, that elusive abstraction that had always slipped through his fingers like fine sand, began to take on the texture of an impenetrable wall. The days, which once stretched like an endless chain of empty moments, now intertwined in a spiral of shadows that faded and dissolved into a whirlwind of uncertainty. Each attempt to flee, each fleeting glance towards an exit that became increasingly unattainable, evaporated with the swiftness with which shadows succumb to light, leaving behind only the sensation of emptiness. In the course of your silent resistance, you came to understand, with painful and dizzying clarity, that escaping from Sung-hoon was not a tangible option, not a viable alternative. Like photographic film that, when exposed to light for too long, develops prematurely, the fate of your actions was already marked, predestined. And as this truth settled in his chest like an unbearable weight, hopelessness began to wrap around his soul, as heavy and dense as the camera hanging from his neck, like an extension of his own being, relentless, like the presence of a specter.
The air, once light and breathable, became thick, like the tension-filled atmosphere inside a dark room, where harsh and cold lights create a palpable sense of claustrophobia. The flow of life, that incessant and turbulent river, seemed to have halted its course, gently moving you towards an abyss from which you could not escape. You no longer fought against the current. The tide of your destiny enveloped you, absorbing you with an almost hypnotic force, as if everything were in its place, as if everything were part of a carefully composed picture. Your resistance dissolved, like an image fading in the developer, when the chemical envelops you and erases the edges of what was once defined. The contours of his will blurred, softening, fading, until the unquenchable impulse for release that had burned in his chest extinguished, fading like the last light of day when the sun sinks below the horizon, leaving only the cold darkness that follows.
Sung-hoon, the man who had been your mentor, your companion, your torturer, and your savior, had taken on the form of a dark, almost mythical figure, a silhouette in which light and shadow merged into an incomplete portrait. Throughout your time together, you had believed you knew him, that you understood each of the intentions hidden behind his icy gaze, like the reflection on the calm surface of water disturbed by a stone falling without warning. But now, in the midst of the silence that surrounded you, you realized that you had been nothing more than a piece in a work that you could not fully comprehend. You were part of a photograph revealing itself before you, an image constructed by a photographer whose vision had transformed you into something even you didn't recognize. And yet, instead of rejecting that truth, something strange began to well up in your chest, like a subtle whisper, a spark of light filtering through a crack in the darkness. It wasn't love, at least not in its purest form, but it was something that resembled it, something more enigmatic and complex. It was a fatalistic acceptance, a kind of silent submission that was beginning to reshape your perception of Sung-hoon.
You had feared it before, that light emanating from his chamber, which you had believed revealed the truth behind the masks. That same light, which now trapped you like an invisible spider's web, kept your soul captive. The intensity of his gaze, that tireless observation that never seemed to leave you, had become the core of your anxiety, a focal point of unease that consumed you. But, as time passed and the concept of escape faded as quickly as shadows succumb to the first ray of sunlight, you began to see something different, something new. Like a photographer examining an image on their screen and realizing that what once seemed blurry is, in fact, a photograph with a disturbing and unique beauty, you began to perceive the complexity of Sung-hoon. The darkness that once terrified you now contained nuances you could not ignore. Each of his gestures, each word he uttered, each glance, contained a profound truth about his being, something that transcended mere manipulation. It was like a lens that distorts the world, but at the same time, captures a raw beauty, a beauty that was undeniable, though incomplete.
Sung-hoon, in his obsession with perfection, was not simply a man with selfish desires for control. His need to capture the essence of the world, of humanity itself, through his camera, was something more visceral, more profound. The photographer was not just an observer of the world; he molded it, took it in his hands like a sculptor shaping clay. And you, caught in that web he had woven around you, began to see, even to admire, that skill, that tireless drive to dominate nature through art. Sung-hoon's vision was not a desire for manipulation, but a primitive impulse, a need to freeze the essence of the moment into a pure image, albeit devoid of all compassion. Somehow, you felt a deep admiration for him, for his ability to distill the chaos of reality into something simpler, more comprehensible. Light and shadow, those two opposites, were no longer enemies in his world. Now they were your allies, and you found yourself trapped in a scene where you were not only the subject but also the spectator of your own existence.
Sung-hoon was not just a man. He was the architect of his world, the demiurge who wove reality around him, undoing and redoing the threads of fate with the same skill with which he adjusted the frame of a photograph. Somehow, you understood that his own complicity in that process had given him the power to transform you. Like an old photograph that, over time, fades and changes, your resistance to him began to crumble like a negative dissolving in water. You no longer saw him as a jailer, a monster who kept you trapped. Instead, you saw him as the creator of a world in which, despite yourself, you felt special, unique. Sung-hoon's control was no longer oppressive; instead, it became a reflection of his own essence, a control woven with almost artistic patience and precision.
That feeling was an amalgamation of fear, fascination, respect, and acceptance. You disliked him, yes, but at the same time, there was something about him that attracted you, something impossible to ignore, something that overflowed the surface of his being. The shadows that once surrounded you now illuminated the truth of your existence, and what once seemed like a prison, a space of despair, now became a refuge where your soul, marked and distorted by Sung-hoon's lens, found itself. The light and the darkness, the contrasts and the shadows, began to weave into a single thread, creating a new reality, a new identity.
Each shot from Sung-hoon's camera not only kept you under his control. It offered you a strange form of comfort. In each image he captured, you saw not only a distorted version of yourself but also a more authentic, more complete one. The light and shadow, which once disturbed you, now took on a new dimension, one in which you found acceptance, transformation. Somehow, you had learned to embrace the image that Sung-hoon had created of you, an imperfect, broken portrait, but essentially true. A portrait that, like humanity itself, reflected fragility, internal struggle, and the inevitable beauty of the struggle itself.
Sung-hoon hadn't destroyed your identity. He had transformed it. And, slowly, as you began to understand the depth of that transformation, you realized that you were no longer a victim of his control, but a work in progress, an image still taking shape under the relentless lens of a man whose art had learned to reveal the deepest essence of your being. Without being able to help it, your feelings towards him became a whirlwind of contradictory emotions, a spiral in which love and fear, submission and admiration intertwined, trapped in a portrait whose exposure was not yet complete. And, like a photograph that is yet to be fully developed, you found yourself trapped in the endless process of its own revelation.
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valsverse · 1 year ago
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but i love her !
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summary: to say that leo valdez is absolutely enamored with you would be an understatement. so, why don't you like him back?
pairing: leo valdez x fem!reader
word count: 2.3k
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LEO VALDEZ does not just like you. no, it is much more than that.
leo's feelings for you surpass mere affection. his love for you is deep-rooted and unshakable, transcending the limitations of the heart and mind. he doesn't just love you with his heart, which can falter or stop altogether. nor does he solely love you with his mind, which may fail him one day. no, leo valdez loves you with every fiber of his being, every inch of his soul, and every essence of his existence. his love for you is all-encompassing, unequivocal, and forever enduring.
so why don't you like him back?
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when you first arrived at camp, leo was immediately taken with you. while he had a reputation for falling for girls completely out of his league, this time was different. he knew deep down that he would do anything for you, even if it meant risking his own life. he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he realized this, but he was sure that you were the one he was meant to be with. despite piper's concerns, leo was undeterred in his pursuit of you.
as you sat at your usual table in the dining pavilion, enjoying dinner with your cabinmates, you were completely immersed in the moment. laughter filled the air as you chatted about your day and shared stories of past quests. just as you took a bite of your dinner, you heard your name being called out loudly and persistently. turning your head in the direction of the voice, you found leo standing right in front of your table. as you tried to recall any previous interactions with him, confusion washed over you. you've only ever spoken to the boy about a grand total of once, and you don't even remember giving him your name.
leo slipped into the empty seat next to you, his smile beaming as he waited for your reaction. gasps escaped the mouths of several of your cabinmates, because, well, isn't it forbidden to sit at another god's table?
“sooo, is this seat taken?” he asked suavely, and you mentally rolled your eyes at his attempt at charm, knowing exactly where this was going.
"well, it wouldn't matter if it's taken or not, because you aren't supposed to be sitting here in the first place."
he only smiled dreamily, seemingly unfazed by your response. the tension in the air grew thicker, and someone let out a snort, unable to contain their amusement at the situation.
it took you a moment to piece together what was happening. leo's sudden changes in behavior around you, the not-so-subtle glances, the smiles, and the way his eyes would light up - it all made sense now, although you didn't want to admit it. leo valdez had a crush on you, and there was nothing you could do about it.
leo leaned forward on the table, his chin resting on his hand. he was brimming with enthusiasm, and you couldn't help but feel just slightly uncomfortable in his presence. "can i ask you something?" he inquired eagerly, his eyes fixed on you.
you sighed inwardly, not wanting to engage but feeling obligated to respond. "do i have a choice?" you quipped, attempting to mask your discomfort. leo didn't seem to notice, too caught up in his own enthusiasm.
suddenly, he pulled out a metal rose from his pocket, presenting it to you with a flourish. "wanna be my girlfriend?" he asked, a hopeful expression on his face.
your siblings snickered around you as your eyes widened in absolute horror. your face felt hot with embarrassment as you struggled to maintain your composure.
"i practically just met you!" you protested, feeling the need to state the obvious.
he had clearly anticipated a different response, going so far as to prepare a metal bouquet in anticipation of impressing you. however, his efforts were in vain. "i'm sorry, but no." you replied firmly, not giving him any room for negotiation.
it was clear that this was not a successful attempt at romance.
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from that day on, it had become the norm for leo to actively pursue you, as he had made it his mission to win your heart. you couldn't deny that he put in a great deal of effort. and he was plenty consistent. for months.
you couldn't help but notice his constant presence, as he seemed to magically appear everywhere you went, making it impossible for you to ignore him.
despite his persistent efforts, leo never pressured you into anything you were not comfortable with. he respected your boundaries and always made sure that he did not cause you any discomfort. it was clear that he adored you, but he never allowed his feelings to dictate his actions towards you.
interestingly enough, it was the reason behind your initial hatred for leo that began to fade away. unfortunately for you, once that seed of doubt was planted, there was no going back. you found yourself unable to justify your previous animosity towards him, in fact, you began to feel guilty for the ill feelings you harbored towards the boy.
after leo's clumsy attempts at asking you out, things became quite awkward between the two of you. you did everything in your power to avoid him, convincing yourself that you loathed him. however, despite your best efforts to push him away, the universe seemed to conspire to bring the two of you together. in fact, you even found yourselves forming an unlikely bond that some might even consider a friendship. leo would somehow magically appear in the same places you happened to be (though he always insisted it was a coincidence), and you found yourself unable to shoo him away as you used to do. yet, despite this newfound closeness, leo's attempts to win your heart remained as elaborate and over-the-top as ever.
from writing your name in fire surrounded by a heart, to asking you out with grand gestures and signs, he never seemed to give up. unfortunately for him, all of his efforts were met with either an indifferent stare or a frown.
maybe your feelings towards leo had changed somewhat, but that did not make him any less unbearable.
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"i just don't get it!" leo complained to piper during free time that day. "i thought me and y/n were making progress, but today she didn't even look at me!"
piper paused from sharpening her dagger and looked up at leo. "what makes you think you were making progress?"
"she let me sit next to her yesterday."
piper couldn't help but let out a laugh, quickly covering it up with a cough. "that was for like two minutes," she scoffed.
leo's face fell. "but i swear i saw her wink at me a few days ago!" he protested.
"she was only blinking in your general direction."
leo mock-glared at the girl. "seriously, you're like an aphrodite kid, aren't you supposed to know this stuff?"
piper rolled her eyes. "shut up. okay, but seriously, come on. think about it. leo, you tend to get infatuated easily and your crushes never last. it's inconsistent. she probably thinks your feelings for her will change once you find someone new."
leo took a step back, not expecting her answer. "but that's not gonna happen!" he retorted, eyes wide with exasperation. "i love her, i swear!"
"prove it to her then." piper responded, running her fingers through her choppy locks. "go find her and prove it."
and that's exactly what he was going to do.
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it's been days since you last saw leo. the usual sight of him following you around, asking to hold your tote bag, or just plain flirting with you is now a distant memory. your tote bag, which he usually holds for you, is now slipping off your shoulder as you sit alone with a feeling of emptiness. you've only seen him run in and out of the workshop, waving at you with the same fire in his eyes but not speaking to you. you keep looking for his head of curly hair everywhere you go, but the inevitable disappointment strikes you every time it isn't him.
although you had been trying to deny it, the truth was that you missed leo terribly. despite his occasional obnoxious flirtations, he was actually quite easy to be around — even more than that, even. maybe you had developed feelings for him that ran much deeper than you ever anticipated. you've been grappling with your emotions for quite some time now, and you were certain that your mask of indifference had already slipped off without your knowledge. you slumped against the wall you were leaning on, feeling the weight of your emotions.
if leo were here, he would have moved you to somewhere you could sit more comfortably, instead of a damn wall. if leo were here, he would have taken your tote bag off your shoulder already, making sure you were not burdened with anything. the absence of his presence now makes you realize just how much he meant to you and how much you miss him.
you pushed yourself off the wall you were leaning against, making your way back to your cabin to sulk, when it happened.
you spotted leo approaching you. his strides were large and purposeful, and you could practically see the determination in his eyes. you could tell he had just emerged from the workshop, his face smeared with soot, but that didn't seem to bother him at all. before you could even react, he had his arms on your shoulders, shaking his head as he gasped for breath, clearly winded from whatever he had been up to. "i've been looking for you everywhere," he said urgently, not giving you a chance to respond.
"okay, look. you know i like you, y/n. you're not like anyone else i've ever met. you're kind, and smart, and funny, and beautiful. and i know that sounds like a lot of flattery, but it's true. i don't think i've ever met anyone who makes me feel the way you do. you make me feel alive, and happy, and.. stuff. and i don't wanna lose that. don't wanna lose you."
he took a deep breath, then continued, "i'm not going to pretend that it was always you, because i've liked other girls before, when i didn't really know what liking someone meant. what i felt for them is not even comparable to what i feel for you right now. it hasn't always been you, but from now on it will."
"i can tell you feel the same way too, even if you try to hide it. you always have a little grin on your face when i come around, and i know you still keep all the things i made for you in your cabin, even though you act like you don't care. but i get it, you're scared. that's okay. i'll prove to you that there's nothing to be afraid of. i'll be devoted and take on more responsibility, because you inspire me to try harder. if you could just give me one chance."
he took a couple steps closer, reaching for your hand, and intertwining his fingers with yours when you didn't pull away. looking deeply into your eyes, he adjusted his grip, his crooked grin indicating that he had rehearsed what he was about to say.
"i guess what i'm trying to say is..." he trailed off, and then pulled out a metal rose from his pocket, just like the one he had given you when he first asked you out. however, this one was special, its intricate patterns reflecting everything that reminded him of you.
"wanna be my girlfriend?" he asked, just like he had all those months ago.
you didn't even hesitate, you just pulled him in by the fabric of his shirt and slotted his lips with yours into a long-awaited, giddy kiss.
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a/n
ookaayyy it's been a while since i've read the books so leo may be a slightly ooc here?? or not?? y'all i don't know i'm trying. 😭😭
xx val
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beegomess · 6 months ago
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T.R. || Loving you forever
Summary: Tom and you made a pact that they would be together forever, and you are willing to do so. Even if you have to trick some people into having him in your arms again.
Warnings: The story will take place in the 5thº year.
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You, a brilliant student of Slytherin, carry with you an emotional weight and a story that few can understand. The connection you shared with Tom Riddle transcends mere friendship or romance; it was a union of souls who promised a future together, challenging not only conventions, but also the timelines themselves.
The promise made with Tom was more than words; it was a sealed pact with a love so intense that it seemed immortal. When the spell cast by him projected you forward in time, it was not just an escape, but a way to preserve this connection beyond death and forgetfulness. Every day at Hogwarts, while you keep your Slytherin student facade, it is a silent battle to hide the true weight of your heart — the pain of being separated from the one you love most and the persistent hope of meeting him again.
Current life, with its challenges and interactions, is constantly filtered through the memory of the past. Every step you take is calculated, each action is measured with the intention not only to fulfill your mission, but also to keep alive the memory of the love that once defined your existence. The fact that Tom's diary is the key to his resurrection makes his quest a mixture of duty and desire, an effort to restore what has been lost and, at the same time, a longing for a future where you can be together again.
As you approach Harry Potter, you are not only in search of a magical object; you are struggling to unite two worlds - the present and the past, love and obligation, the real and the imagined. Every moment you spend trying to gain Potter's trust is a step closer to realizing a promise that was made in simpler times, and also an attempt to reconcile what was left behind with what can still be achieved.
Behind his calm smile and the calculated strategies, there is a soul marked by an eternity of longing and a heart that still pulsates for the love that has never been faded. The mission is your redemption and your purpose, and its success is the key to restoring a piece of a past that you have never been able to leave completely behind.
His "frendity" began in a Herbology class. You were still someone unknown to him, which certainly helped you.
Harry began to sympathize with you some time ago, seeing you as an unexpected ally. It didn't take long for an obstacle to emerge in his path. Hermione Granger began to suspect her true intentions and decided to warn Harry about you.
One afternoon, while you were talking to Harry in the hallway, Hermione approached with a serious expression, which made you say goodbye and move away discreetly.
- Harry, are you sure you can trust her? - Hermione asked, her voice loaded with concern. - She is from Slytherin, and this should be taken into account.
Harry looked at Hermione, with a confused expression.
- I see no reason to suspect her. She has been very helpful. - Harry replied, trying to seem convinced.
Hermione crossed her arms, her eyes fixed on Harry with a determined look.
- Besides, she is also born a sucker, just like you. It wouldn't be a bad idea to have someone from Slytherin around. But don't worry, I know the reputation of the house is not the best. - He paused, as if expecting an argument.
Although it was not true that you were a "born sucker", the lie that you faced prejudice in Slytherin had a convincing effect on Harry. He believed it quickly, making his task easier.
- I just want you to be cautious. - Hermione insisted. - Even if she seems friendly, Slytherins have a reputation and, in my experience, it is always better not to let your guard down.
Despite Hermione's reservations, Harry continued to open up to you, but his interventions added a layer of tension to his plan. Maintaining Harry's confidence while dealing with Hermione's vigilance was a constant game of balance. Their meetings were planned to look spontaneous, always with a welcoming smile and an offer of genuine help. In each interaction, you calibrated your behavior to be useful and reliable, so that Harry did not suspect his true intentions.
[...]
On the night of that same day, the library was wrapped in an almost reverential silence, illuminated by the flickering light of the candles and the soft glow of the magic lamps. The tall bookshelves projected mysterious shadows, creating an environment that combined comminess and mystery. Harry Potter was sitting at a table, immersed in a thick book, but his expression showed distraction.
You approached with a calm and strategic posture, your clear goal. Harry was distracted, and you noticed a subtle glow emanating from his bag, which was partially open on the table. With a trained look, you immediately recognized Tom Riddle's diary, shining slightly under the light of the library.
- Harry! - You started, your soft and friendly voice - It looks like you're having trouble with this material. Do you need help?
Harry looked up at you, his expression mixing relief with a twinge of suspicion. He moved slightly away from the bag, as if unconsciously protecting the valuable object it contained.
- Oh, it's you. - Harry replied, a little surprised. - Actually, I'm having difficulties with it. I would appreciate it if you can take a look.
You smiled and leaned over to examine the book, your hand sliding discreetly in the direction of the bag. The diary was there, clearly visible through the opening. You tried to stay calm while adjusting your position, trying to get closer to the bag without drawing attention.
However, Harry seemed to notice the movement. His eyes fixed on his hand next to the bag and he hardened a little, his lips closing in a thin line.
The silence of the library was interrupted by a slight sound of something falling on the floor. Tom Riddle's diary, which was visibly exposed in Harry's bag, slipped from the opening and fell with a deaf thum on the tiled floor. The sound made Harry lean abruptly to pick up the object, his expression of concern quickly turning into tension.
He bent down and caught the diary quickly, his fingers squeezing the object firmly as he straightened. His eyes were now fixed on the diary, and there was a shadow of nervousness on his face. The tension was palpable, and he made a visible effort to hide the book in his bag carefully, trying to stay calm.
Taking advantage of the moment, you leaned a little further forward, watching the scene with a look of genuine concern.
- It seems that this is very important to you - you said, your voice loaded with a carefully calculated empathy. - What is this book? It seems to be causing a lot of tension.
Harry looked at you with an expression of surprise and discomfort. He hesitated for a moment, clearly struggling to decide how much to reveal. The shadow of distrust still hovered in his eyes, but the sincerity in his tone seemed to have created a gap.
- It's just one... a personal item. - Harry replied, his voice a little hesitant. - It's nothing to worry about.
You gave a slight understanding smile, trying to soften the situation and keep gaining your trust.
- I Understand. Sometimes, we all have things that we prefer to keep to ourselves. - You said, tilting your head in a friendly way. - But if you need someone to talk to or help with anything, I'm here for that.
Harry seemed to relax a little, although there was still a pinch of caution in his eyes. He clearly appreciated the offer of support, but was still struggling to balance trust with distrust.
- Thank you. - Harry said, his tone a little more relaxed, but still careful. - It's good to know that.
You took advantage of the moment to take a step closer, but without invading his personal space.
- No problem, Harry. The truth is that I'm here to help, and I hope we can work together to overcome any difficulty. - You paused, watching him carefully. - If you need anything, especially if the book is causing problems, know that you can talk to me.
Harry gave a slight nod, his gaze still a little cautious, but grateful. The diary, now again hidden in the bag, seemed to be a source of great concern for him, and his answer indicated that he was starting to open up a little more.
As you walked away, a feeling of satisfaction and relief mixed with the awareness that distrust was still present. Every step towards Harry's trust was a victory.
[...]
The next day, Hogwarts was immersed in an atmosphere of expectation. A timid sun filtered through the windows of the Great Hall, casting soft rays of light on the students' tables. The murmuring conversations and the usual clamor were interrupted when an urgent announcement echoed through the corridors.
Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were summoned to the Flitwick professor's room due to an unexpected situation: the House's Academic Performance Report was severely outdated and there was an alarming discrepancy in the grades of several students. Hermione, known for her perfectionism and dedication, was immediately involved in solving the problem, while Ron, although initially reluctant, was dragged into the task due to his friendship with Hermione and his desire to help her.
The situation was carefully orchestrated by you. A quick manipulation in the academic records and a subtle error in the calculations had been enough to create a distraction that involved Hermione and Ron for several hours. The confusion generated and the need to correct the data urgently caused them to focus intensely on the task, leaving Harry Potter alone and unprotected.
With Hermione and Ron busy, you saw the perfect opportunity to get closer to Harry. The day was clear and calm, and the library was almost deserted. Harry was sitting at one of the tables, studying alone, his concentration interrupted only occasionally by looks of concern.
In the following hours, you adopted a meticulous surveillance strategy, remaining discreet and observant while following Harry Potter's movements. At every moment, you him through the corridors of Hogwarts, keeping a safe distance so as not to raise suspicions. His goal was clear: to wait for the right moment to intervene and ensure that he could follow Harry's footsteps for Tom Riddle's diary.
The library, where you were often nearby, became your observation post. On some occasions, you infiltrated the common areas and spent time in strategic corridors, always with a watchful eye on any sign that could indicate the boy's plans.
It was on a particularly quiet afternoon, while you were leaning discreetly against one of the walls of the corridor near the women's bathroom, that something caught your attention. Harry was alone, his hesitant steps echoing down the deserted corridor. He seemed to follow a voice that no one else could hear, an expression of curiosity and confusion on his face.
The scene aroused your interest immediately. Harry approached the women's bathroom with a fixed look, almost hypnotized, following the inaudible sound. This place, in particular, carried an emotional weight for you. It was the same bathroom where you and Tom Riddle had spent intimate and secret moments during your youth. It was also the entrance to the Secret Chamber, a vital place for his plans.
You hid in the shadows, watching carefully as Harry stood in front of the bathroom door. He hesitated for a moment, looking around as if trying to understand the origin of the voice that called him. His heart beat faster when he saw his interaction with the family environment. The old walls and dusty mirrors looked like silent witnesses of the past, preserving the secrets and history of his love with Tom.
Harry entered the bathroom, and the door closed smoothly behind him. You knew that could be the moment you were waiting for.
With your mind boiling with excitement and a renewed desire to achieve your goal, you waited patiently. The anticipation of finally being able to recover his beloved Tommy and the certainty that the moment was approaching filled his heart with a mixture of hope and anxious expectation.
After a few minutes, you decided to follow Harry. Entering the women's bathroom, nostalgia enveloped him when he remembered the moments shared with Tom there. Each step he took brought her closer to the achievement of his goal. Harry's presence there meant that something important was about to happen, and you were determined to ensure that the plan to bring Tom Riddle back was realized.
You moved forward, your breathing controlled, moving with the grace and caution of a predator. When he entered the bathroom, he saw Harry standing in front of a sink, murmuring words that activated the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. A smile of satisfaction appeared on his lips. The way was open, and you were ready to follow Harry and recover the diary that meant so much to you and Tom.
Harry looked around one last time, then disappeared through the secret entrance. Without wasting time, you followed him, descending through the depths of the Secret Chamber, each step bringing you closer to your final goal.
Nothing could stop you from bringing your boyfriend back, not even the famous Harry Potter. After all, you had promised Tom eternity together, and you were willing to do anything to fulfill that promise.
With the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets open, you followed Harry carefully, keeping yourself in the shadows so as not to be detected. The narrow passage widened as they advanced, revealing a path of stones flanked by statues of imposing snakes. The air was humid and cold, and the smell of mold impregnated the environment.
The tension increased with each step. The statues of snakes, with their eyes fixed and mouths open, seemed to watch you as you advanced. The dim light reflected on the damp stones, creating a gloomy and mysterious environment. In the background, an immense sculpture of Salazar Slytherin's face dominated the space, his stern gaze seeming to judge anyone who dared to enter that sacred place.
You stayed in the shadows, watching as Harry approached the center of the chamber. His heart beat faster when he saw Gina Weasley lying on the floor, apparently unconscious. Harry ran to her, kneeling next to her and trying to wake her up with evident despair.
- Gina! Wake up, please! Gina!
You saw the frustration and fear in Harry's eyes as he insisted that Gina wake up. He shook her slightly, trying to resuscitate her. But before he could make any progress, a familiar voice echoed through the walls of the chamber, making his heart jump.
- She's not going to wake up.
You recognized the voice instantly. It was Tom Riddle, or rather, a projection of his youth. He emerged from the shadows, his imposing presence and cold look fixed on Harry. Time seemed to stop as you watched the scene unfold, the presence of Tom filling the camera with a sense of power and authority.
Harry stared at Tom with a mixture of confusion and determination.
- Tom... Tom Riddle. - Harry stuttered. - What do you mean she won't wake up? Is she...?
- She's still alive, but by a thread. - Your acquaintance and beloved Tom Riddle was finally there.
Tom's footsteps approached Harry, who stared at him with a certain fear.
- Are you a ghost?
- A memory preserved in a diary for 50 years. - Slytherin corrected it.
Tom noticed Harry's wand fallen and picked it up. Harry still seemed worried about Gina, a little distracted to realize.
- She looks cold. Tom, and the basilisk? - Harry looked up and noticed his wand in Tom's hands. - Return my wand, Tom. - The boy used an authoritarian voice.
- Why? You won't need it. - Riddle replied simply.
- Look, we have to go. We need to save her. - Potter insisted.
- I don't think I can do that, Harry. - He paused. - While Gina gets weaker, I get stronger.
It was at that moment that you decided to get out of the shadows. Harry, surprised to see you there, tried to position himself to protect her.
- Y/N, get out of here! He's dangerous! - Harry shouted, the concern evident in his voice.
But you just smiled and took a few steps towards Tom, ignoring Harry's warning. Her eyes fixed on the familiar and beloved face, Tom's expression softening slightly when recognizing her.
- Y/N? - Tom murmured, a mixture of surprise and recognition in his voice.
You nodded, the emotion evident in your eyes.
- Tom... Finally. - you said, the voice choked. - I spent 50 years looking for you, waiting for this moment.
Harry watched the scene, just shocked and confused.
- Y/N, what are you doing? He's trying to hurt Gina!
Tom reached out, and you took it without hesitation, feeling the familiar warmth of your touch.
- Y/N... my dear. - Tom said softly, his eyes fixed on yours. - I missed you so much. Every second away from you was an eternity.
- You have no idea how long I waited for this. - You answered, the emotion overflowing as I hugged you.
Harry, still processing the revelation, was trying to find a way to save Gina and prevent Tom's plans. But Tom's presence by your side and his growing power made it clear that you would not let anything or anyone interfere in your reunion.
Tom held his hand firmly, his dark eyes full of determination. Harry, still trying to understand what was happening, took a step forward, desperate to save Gina and understand the situation.
- Y/N, that's crazy! He's dangerous! - Harry begged.
You looked at Harry, without showing regret, just firmness. Tom, with Harry's wand in hand, turned to you, a cold smile on his lips as if admiring her.
Harry, confused and distressed, continued to look at you and Tom, paralyzed next to Gina's unconscious body. His expression was a mixture of shock and despair.
- Why, Y/N? How can you do that? - Harry managed to murmur, his voice full of frustration.
Tom gave an enigmatic smile.
- Harry, you can't understand. Y/N and I share a past that transcends any notion you may have. We were colleagues at Hogwarts, and our love was something deep and immortal. We made a promise of eternity that nothing and no one can undo.
Harry looked at Tom in disbelief.
- But... how did she not appear in the memories I saw? - Harry questioned, still trying to understand.
This time you answered coldly.
- Tom showed you only what he wanted you to see. There are many things you don't know, many hidden truths. I've always been by your side, even when you couldn't see it. - You pause, but then it continues. - Thank you for making things easier, Harry.
Tom began to resume his complete physical state, his presence solidifying as he again became an imposing and real figure. Harry, paralyzed next to Gina, watched feeling the failure on his shoulders.
_______________________________
masterlist
xoxo, bee 🫶🏼✨
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autumnslance · 9 months ago
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Ancient Transformation
I know how we all love to meme on how it's stated transformation is seen in the Ancient society, but I also tend to think it's one of those cases where the actual meaning of the passage has been, well, meme'd a little too far.
(Like how the devs have had to go out of their way to point out Estinien does bathe, guys, it was aetheric alteration to his armor, and he does regularly wear armor which might lead to funk and helmet hair but he likes to be clean when it's off.)
Let's look at the actual passage in the Elpis quest "Their Greatest Contribution" where they're trying to help the charybdis fly (bolding by me):
Hermes: I shall transform and fly with it, helping it to manipulate wind until it finds its wings. Troubled Observer: What!? Y-You needn't go to such lengths… (Emet-Selch notices the WoL's confusion) Emet-Selch: You don't know? But of course not… Emet-Selch: Transformation is an art in which one manipulates a vast quantity of aether to construct another body around oneself. Emet-Selch: In practice, this allows one to assume any conceivable form, and thereby transcend the limits of one's flesh. Emet-Selch: Yet convenient though it may be, transforming in the presence of others is considered vainglorious in the extreme. As uncouth and unseemly as running about robeless. Shameful. Emet-Selch: Am I to understand you make a habit of this? Hermes: N-Nothing of the sort. It's just that, when transformed, I can wield the wind and fly. Hermes: It may seem excessive, but what is our shame next to the lives of these creatures? Hermes: They deserve a chance, and we owe it to them to do all in our power! Emet-Selch: Be that as it may…
What everyone tends to focus on, of course, is his analogy of "running about robeless" and equating that it's the same as nudity. Which makes for funny memeing.
But look again at the actual description of how transforming is seen:
Yet convenient though it may be, transforming in the presence of others is considered vainglorious in the extreme.
"Vainglorious" is the adjective of "Vainglory" which Merriam-Webster defines as "excessive or ostentatious pride especially in one's achievements; vain display or show; vanity."
the "uncouth and unseemly" part isn't so much the nudity part, but the showing off. Visibly boasting about one's power and strength by displaying one's transformed state.
So why the nudity analogy? Well, for one, is it actually discussing nudity, or walking around in outfits/ways that don't conform to societal standards? Ancient society seemed to be striving for an egalitarian system, which their magics made easy enough, though there's still stratification of some kind (based on peoples' roles). But the robes and masks are an attempt to produce a visual equality among members with variable magical skill (and that would otherwise be seen via those transformations if they indulged in them). It's about the conformity (for better or worse) to community.
The other reason I can think for that analogy is how common Ancient Greek inspired words and names in Amaurot's world are. And what many people also equate to Ancient Greece, aside from the tales of the Olympians, is the myriad artwork, often in various forms of athletic bodies in competition, whether war or sports. While there's plenty of fully clothed/armored imagery, classic nudes are common imagery in popular culture and not even in a sexual way; they're showing off their prowess as athletes and warriors.
(The third possible reason is Emet-Selch has ever been a Dramatic Bitch Like That and tends to the theatrical in his wording, even at his most traditional and conservative.)
Emet-Selch's concern about Hermes transforming is because it's considered bad manners to just transform on a whim--because it would indicate he's a boastful show off, or reliant on his transformed state, or otherwise cavalier about societal norms--which however one reads the line about transformations, would, from Emet-Selch's view, be a bad look for a potential member of the Convocation!
And the poor charybdis observer is all too aware that a member of the Convocation is standing right there, boss! Even if this is something Hermes does at times in extreme cases to aid their creations in his role as chief, this is not the best time to break out the transformation, even for the sake of a troubled creature.
And of course we do eventually see Hermes in his transformed state, and just how capable he is at manipulating wind magics in it.
In the end, the question of transforming for something as simple as the charybdis's struggles strikes me as yet another indicator, despite his mentor's nomination, that Hermes was not Convocation material despite his role as Elpis's chief; his shaken state post-Ktisis would be seen as a reaction to the "accident", and he likely knew how to mask (in the social emotional sense) and give the right answers despite his own depression and doubts. And with none but Venat remembering what else happened in those days at the facility, he managed to obtain the role anyway, now that he believed his Meteion project to have failed.
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formulas-bitch · 10 months ago
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streamer Lando Norris x artist/reader
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In a world where streaming had become the new norm, Lando Norris found himself in an unlikely partnership with a female streamer. Their names were as different as their personalities; he, a young, charismatic racer with a penchant for speed and risk-taking; she, an enigmatic artist with a flair for storytelling and an uncanny ability to connect with her audience. Their partnership was not born out of convenience or necessity, but rather, a strange and inexplicable twist of fate.
As they streamed together, their chemistry was undeniable. Lando would bring the thrill of the race to the screen, his fingers dancing across the controller as he maneuvered his way through virtual tracks at breakneck speeds. His laughter and cheers echoed through the studio, filling the air with an infectious energy that seemed to lift the spirits of everyone around him. On the other hand, the female streamer would take the reins when it came to interacting with their audience, engaging in witty banter and sharing intimate details about her life as an artist.
Their fans, known as the "Lando's Angels" and the "Artiste's Aficionados," were equally devoted. They would tune in religiously to witness the dynamic duo's antics, often spending hours in their streams, cheering them on and leaving generous donations. The streamer pair's popularity only grew with time, transcending the boundaries of gaming and art. They became cultural icons, their influence spreading far and wide.
Lando and the female streamer continued to push each other to greater heights, experimenting with new games, art forms, and storytelling techniques. They embarked on charity streams, using their platform to raise awareness and funds for various causes close to their hearts. Their partnership was not without its share of challenges, of course. They had their fair share of arguments and disagreements, but they always managed to find common ground and work through their differences.
As their fame grew, so did the pressure. Lando found himself constantly in the spotlight, his every move scrutinized by fans and critics alike. He struggled with maintaining a private life and the constant need to be "on" for his audience. The female streamer, on the other hand, dealt with her own set of challenges as she navigated the often-misogynistic landscape of the streaming world. Despite these obstacles, they remained a beacon of positivity and resilience, inspiring countless others to chase their dreams and find their own unique voices in the world of streaming and art.
Their partnership eventually evolved into something more than just a professional arrangement. As they spent more time together, traveling the world for gaming and art conventions, attending exclusive events, and collaborating on creative projects, a deep bond began to form between them. Lando found himself falling for the enigmatic artist, her wit, charm, and unyielding strength winning him over. She, in turn, found herself drawn to his vulnerability, his willingness to open up and share his fears and insecurities with her. Their relationship was not without its fair share of challenges, but they faced them together, their love for each other serving as a guiding light.
As their personal lives intertwined, so did their professional lives. They launched their own production company, hiring a team of talented streamers and artists to join them in their quest to create something truly special. Together, they pushed the boundaries of what was possible in the world of streaming and art, exploring new genres, mediums, and storytelling techniques. Their streams became less about the games they played or the art they created and more about the stories they told, the lives they shared, and the connections they forged with their audience.
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gazeofseer · 8 months ago
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Soul Connection💙
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
'Love is too much glorified to ones dream
And quite petrified to savor it in life.........
Before you give up I want you to give in..
To your soul and find the other end of the
String that aches, arches, and embeds
you every night wondering
If there is no one for me what is this
love mourning for then..?'
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
Pick A Image
And let your heart guide you allow that feeling to stir out and take you in the message calling upon you ;
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Image.1
Best Friends, Platonic, Caring, Values, Spouse, Wrong Place with the Right Person
Message : The soul of yours is on a journey, of self discovery be it understanding what you truly want and need as an soul through life of human, to knowing it later after many lessons down the line that makes you see all the wrong things first and then things awaits on you to be corrected,
The connection you have is a Platonic one in this lifetime above mentioned are the forms you might have already met them or they are quite close but there is a wall of strangeness in between or a veil of unknown who is yet to arrive they are important part of your journey this makes you sad to not love like others, settle like others, but you are not one of them right? You are here for different things..they would be one of your greatest chapters that makes you worth the go towards the next.
Even if there is a separation it will be quite endearing and worth it. Because they would still wish the best from afar for you.
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'Maybe love was about a moment of relief for the one who was on a quest of the living'
- S ✍🏽☘️
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
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Karmic Bond, Purpose, Intent, Contract, Redemption, Salvation
Message : The dreams can weigh at times to, even if things seems enraging you hold it well behind a smile that a moment of ignorance and you would disappear amidst of the crowd to find your corner, comfort, of space where you shed all your emotions into a flow of thoughts that keeps you under greys before it rains.
There is a ache in your abdominal or chest, or a heavy guilt of feeling sorry towards something I am not able to see what exactly as I see you even feel hard to speak up like two Gulps down you take and sigh of eye rolls you go after doing any kinds of talk, your soul has a karmic bond it can be anyone in your family, but I see more in your social and friends group maybe even a colleague or romantic person, there is so much gloom, blues, and black here, a contract of hurt has begun that needs to be redeemed by the one who did to set the other person free with that state of feeling.
It will be really quite peaceful, refreshing yet painful as this heaviness will set both of your souls to move ahead in your life journey without holding anything back that can drown you at any time.
Timeline is near to 2-3 years it seems to be near the end by this year or next year's july.. monsoon is prominent and winter too.
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The beauty of life is, there can be an end to whatever happens within it, but beautiful things hurt too badly like love
- S ♥️
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
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Twin flame, Reflection, Transcend, Frequency, Attune, Trance, Mirror
Message : The idea or myth has a say that karma mirrors when it comes to twin flame but the reality has always been different and distinctive, You imbibe each other's nature timely..if you drink coffee now they might be having tea..
But the very same evening there will be a swap and you would wonder why did chose this when I am a specific this person; is how mirroring situations occurs in between you and your twin flame, I see you don't like to be too stereotypically girl but you have your own way to carry femininity same goes for masculinity,
To find a balance between the frequency of your energy will bring the space of mirrors into existence your twin flame is also seeking you the dreams you had about someone's safe touch but you have never been touched a dagger slashing something into two, all this is a sign of confirmation.
You will meet them when everything is balanced and attuned like a manifestation this entirely depends on how is your energy, divine timing, purpose, frequency, and attuning of your souls.
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We exist under the same sky sharing the same breath, the day we will meet what exchanges is the trance of our being till date gets seen, heard and felt a dream come true.
- S🌊
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
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Soulmates, Inner Knowing, Fidelity, Longing
Message : Everything speaks to you about love, hope and light no matter how much dark and cold things around may get there is warmth within, it is the longing towards your soulmate every songs remind you of the visions that you could possibly have with them not the delusions but the kisses on cheeks leaves a smile on your face by now for real as if you felt it happen for real but it is yet to.
I see you are quite pure at heart to see shades and imposters which makes you get influenced at a flinch but god's grace you deal with things very well that even through a mishap you come out like a boon.
It is a part and parcel of the growth towards enlightenment but just be cautious in case things can snap at you anytime even if you are ready for a war no need to invite one to prove everytime that you can do it. trust me this is from your soul mate you keep hurting yourself and they feel really helpless right now to not be able to help you through, so just let go of conflicts if it is around ignore..dodge deal it with grace or address it collectively instead of going and reacting rashly on your own.
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To look feel and experience one's soul all you need is love inside your heart's core to connect beyond all the veils of falls and lows, that elevates you heightens you through grounding your roots of existence deeply in each other's heart through foot imprints.
- S🩷
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
Paid Readings are Open Check my Pinned Post !!
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ru8yx · 8 months ago
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Your Jermey headcanons were so good, could we get some for Nora 🥹??
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NORA VON NÜRNBERGER X READER
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Nora's lips would curve into a dreamy smile at the mere mention of your name, as though the very sound of it held the power to ignite a flame within his heart.
Whenever his gaze would find you, his eyes seemed to light up with the warmth of affection, and his love-struck smile would widen naturally.
Each instance of you walking past him, or even just the sight of your genuine smile in his direction, would spark a wave of joy and contentment within him.
Nora cherished the hope that your relationship would never mirror the loveless and dutiful bond his parents shared.
He yearned for a love that transcended obligation, one that would bring not just duty but genuine affection and warmth into your hearts.
His quest to make you fall in love with him repeatedly not only ignited a spark in your eyes but also served as a testament to the unwavering commitment he held for you.
He dreamed of a future where the ring on your finger wouldn’t just symbolize responsibility but would be a tangible symbol of the deep and passionate love you shared.
Nora relished the tranquil moments spent in the garden with you, where the soft chatter of your words filled the air and left a joyful smile upon your lips.
As he sat across from you, his gaze remained fixated on your every feature—the way strands of your hair caught the sunlight, your eyes dancing with happiness, and the way your clothes perfectly complimented your angelic aura.
Each detail was etched into his memory, and he found contentment in observing the picture of you painted before him as if you were an angelic vision sent directly from the heavens just for him.
Whenever Nora engaged in training, he diligently kept a watchful eye for your presence, cherishing any opportunity to impress and entertain you.
When he was particularly playful, he would delight in flexing his muscles and showcasing his agility with weapons.
With a flick of his wrist, he would lift the hem of his shirt, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his toned abs, before wiping away the sweat from his forehead and tossing you a mischievous smirk.
His actions were a dance of prowess, designed to captivate and enchant you while he reveled in the moment.
During those moments of respite, Nora would seize the opportunity with a sly smirk, skillfully trapping you between the embrace of his arms on the bed.
As he pressed himself close, his kisses would land on the most ticklish spots of your body, igniting a symphony of giggles and laughter that escaped your lips.
He reveled in the adorable sight of you playfully trying to push him away, your legs kicking out in a valiant attempt to escape his teasing.
However, his gaze would pause upon your face, utterly entranced by your captivating beauty before finally capturing your lips in a languid, passionate kiss.
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RAHH!!! Thank u SMMM 💕💕💕AGAIN IM SORRY IF ITS BAD BC IM IN WRITING BLOCK
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thewulf · 9 months ago
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In the Arms of Fate || Aragorn
Summary: Request - During the war with Sauron, she gets kidnapped and tortured badly by Saruman. Aragorn and the others immediately get on a mission to rescue her and eventually find her barely alive... Read Rest Here
A/N: This was tough to write but I really like how it turned out. Thank you for the amazing requests anon, hope you all enjoy!
Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader
Word Count: 4,600 +
TW: talks of torture, pain, reader gets taken, general LOTR triggers
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In the middle of the raging war against Sauron you found yourself drawn to the Fellowship not only by fate but by your own unique blend of skills and qualities that made you an indispensable member of the group. Aragorn quickly recognized your unwavering loyalty and the depth of your courage. He insisted on your inclusion in the Fellowship. He saw in you a kindred spirit as someone who shared his determination to see the quest through to the end.
Your skills were varied and essential to the success of the Fellowship. As a seasoned fighter you were proficient in various forms of combat. You sported weapons with precision and grace. But it wasn't just your prowess on the battlefield that set you apart. It was also your keen intellect and quick thinking that made you invaluable to the group. You possessed a sharp mind and a strategic approach to problem-solving, often providing crucial insights and solutions during moments of peril. Even Legolas looked to you for guidance from time to time.
Gimli was initially skeptical of your presence in the Fellowship. But even he soon came to appreciate the depth of your skills and the strength of your character. Your friendship with him grew as you shared stories of battles fought and victories won. You formed a bond that transcended the differences between your races. Together you and Gimli formed a formidable duo. Your strengths complementing each other in ways that made the Fellowship stronger as a whole.
With Legolas, your relationship was characterized by playful banter and teasing exchanges. From the moment you met there was a natural rapport between you. It was like a shared understanding that lent itself to lighthearted jests and witty banter. Legolas never missed an opportunity to tease you. His playful remarks eliciting laughter and smiles even in the darkest of times. Despite the teasing there was a deep form of friendship between you. Formed through shared experiences and mutual respect. He loved to tease you, especially about a certain ranger that had captured your heart with ease. It was on one particular eve that Legolas had let you know that he knew too. He wasn’t blind. He caught your longing looks. But he too caught Aragorn staring right back at you.
The evening was alive with the crackling of the campfire and the soft rustle of the forest around you. As you sat beside the fire completely lost in thought, Legolas approached with his characteristic grace, a playful glint in his eyes.
"Ah, Y/N, lost in thought again?" he remarked. A teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. And he likely did.
You chuckled softly turning to face him. "Just contemplating our next move," you replied, though your thoughts were anything but focused on strategy. Instead, they drifted to a certain ranger sitting across the way who occupied far too much space in your mind.
Legolas arched an eyebrow, his keen gaze fixing on you with knowing amusement. "Or perhaps," he suggested with a knowing smirk, "you're pondering a particular king’s pining for you?"
Your cheeks flushed crimson at his words, and you sputtered in protest. "Wha—no, Legolas, you're imagining things," you stammered. It was a terrible attempt to brush off his teasing with a nervous laugh.
But Legolas only chuckled. His soft laughter mingling with the gentle crackle of the fire. "Oh, come now, Y/N,” he teased, his tone light and playful. "Even the trees can see the way he looks at you. And you him. It's as clear as the stars in the night sky."
You rolled your eyes. Though a part of you couldn't help but wonder if there was a kernel of truth to Legolas's jests. Aragorn's lingering glances and subtle gestures had not gone unnoticed by you. Though you had dismissed them as mere figments of your imagination. "He's just... concerned for my well-being, that's all," you insisted, though doubt lingered in the back of your mind. "We're friends, nothing more."
Legolas's smile widened as his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Of course, Y/N," he replied. His tone dripping with elvish sarcasm. "Just friends."
As he walked away quiet as ever leaving you to figure out you conflicting emotions, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps there was more truth to Legolas's teasing than you dared to admit. But for now, you pushed aside your doubts instead focusing on the task at hand and the challenges that lay ahead. You couldn’t let that distract you of all things. You had Hobbits to find after all.
As for Aragorn, the dynamics of your relationship were markedly different. From the moment he laid eyes on you Aragorn was captivated by your strength, courage, and insane determination. He found himself drawn to you in a way he couldn't fully explain. His heart skipping a beat whenever you were near. Despite his stoic demeanor Aragorn found himself unable to hide his feelings for you. His affection and admiration shining through in subtle gestures and meaningful glances. Whether it was a reassuring touch on the shoulder or a lingering gaze across the campfire Aragorn's love for you was evident to all who knew him. Maybe except for you.
And though you tried to hide it, the effect he had on you was undeniable. Your cheeks would flush with color whenever he spoke. Your heart deciding to skip a beat at the mere sound of his voice. Despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of composure Aragorn had a way of unraveling your defenses. His presence stirring emotions within you that you struggled to contain.
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The Battle of Helm's Deep raged on with unrelenting ferocity. The clash of steel and the roar of orcs echoing through the valley. As darkness descended upon the fortress you stood shoulder to shoulder with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. Your heart was pounding with adrenaline, determination, and a touch of fear.
Together, you fought valiantly against the relentless tide of enemies. Your blades flashing in the dim light as you defended the walls of Helm's Deep with all your strength. But as the battle wore on fatigue began to set in and the odds seemed increasingly insurmountable. In the chaos of the fray the enemy's forces surged forward with renewed fury. You were overwhelmed. The defenders of Helm's Deep were overwhelmed with their sheer numbers. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli fought with unmatched skill and valor. Their resolve unbroken even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds.
In the middle the chaos and confusion tragedy struck for you. As the defenders of Helm's Deep rallied for one final stand you found yourself separated from your companions. Unfortunately surrounded by a horde of wargs and orcs. With grim determination you fought with all your might. Every strike of your blade a desperate attempt to fend off the encroaching darkness.
But it was not enough.
As the enemy closed in around you completely overwhelming you with their sheer numbers, you felt a surge of despair wash over you. Your strength faltered and your movements began growing sluggish as exhaustion threatened to consume you whole. And then in a moment of cruel fate you were seized by the snarling jaws of a warg. You were dragged away from the safety of the fortress just as the offenders began to retreat. You were a prize.
Aragorn's heart constricted with dread as he watched helplessly from afar. His voice lost amidst the din of battle as he called out your name in desperation. His pleas were a cruel reminder of how quickly things could change. With every fiber of his being he longed to rush to your aid. To fight tooth and nail to rescue you from the clutches of the enemy. But the tide of battle had turned, and he had no time to rush after you for he would likely die in the cause.
And so, as Helm's Deep fell silent in the wake of the enemy's retreat. Aragorn's heart weighed heavy with grief and guilt. For though the battle had been won. The cost had been immeasurable. And the fate of his beloved remained uncertain, lost amidst the darkness that lurked beyond the walls of Helm's Deep.
In the grim depths of Saruman's fortress, you endured unspeakable torment at the hands of your captors. From the moment they laid hands on you their cruelty knew no bounds. Their twisted minds delighting in the suffering they inflicted upon you. They reveled in your screams of agony. Their laughter echoing off the cold stone walls as they subjected you to unimaginable pain and suffering. Every blow, every cut, every moment of pain was a sickening game to them. A twisted form of entertainment that they relished with sadistic glee.
But despite their best efforts to break your spirit you refused to fold. With every fiber of your being you clung to life with a tenacity that defied comprehension. You endured their tortures with a steely resolve. Your will to survive burning bright even in the darkest of moments. They tried their best to break you. To strip away your humanity and reduce you to nothing more than a shell of your former self. But still you fought on. Your spirit unbroken even as your body bore the scars of their cruelty.
In the depths of despair, you found a flicker of hope—a tiny ember of defiance that refused to be extinguished. And though they tried to snuff it out. To drown it in a sea of pain and despair, still it burned bright within you. It was Aragorn. He was your salvation. Your thoughts that brought light within your darkness. You couldn’t break. Not when you knew was alive and fighting to see you again.
And so, as the minutes turned into days and the days turned into weeks, you clung to life with a determination that seemed to defy reason. For though they sought to destroy you. To crush your spirit beneath their heel. Still, you refused to surrender, your will to survive burning bright even in the face of unspeakable evil. You began to worry they may tire of you. That they may get bored and kill you despite your efforts to survive.
In the grim confines of Saruman's fortress sustenance was a meager and scarce commodity, doled out sparingly by your captors. Each day you received barely enough to sustain your frail body. The meager rations serving as a cruel reminder of your dire circumstances. The food was tasteless. The water stagnant and foul. Yet you choked it down with grim determination. You did it in hopes of seeing Aragorn again. Maybe just maybe you could confess your love to him for this journey made you finally realize your feelings for him.
You couldn't bear the thought of leaving this world laying bare the depths of your heart and soul to him. And so, even as your body grew weak and your spirit faltered, you held fast to the hope that one day, somehow, you would find your way back to him.
As the news of Saruman's demise spread throughout Middle earth a small bit of hope rose within the hearts of those who had suffered under his tyranny. For you, however, trapped within the depths of Orthanc's dungeons, the passing of the once-great wizard brought no relief from your torment.
Barely clinging to life as your body was ravaged by weeks of unspeakable suffering. You lay in darkness your breaths shallow and labored. Each passing moment felt like an eternity as you teetered on the brink of oblivion. Your spirit beginning to falter by the weight of despair.
But in the cruelty of the shadows that engulfed you a faint whisper of hope stirred within your soul—a feeling, a sensation that you couldn't quite explain. It was as if a part of you knew deep down that your salvation was at hand. That somehow, someway, your beloved Aragorn was close and would come for you.
And come for you he did.
Driven by a gnawing sense of unease. A feeling that he couldn't shake, Aragorn ventured into the depths of Orthanc. His heart weighed heavy with dread and determination. Guided by instinct and a love that knew no bounds he searched tirelessly for any sign of your presence. His footsteps echoing through the cold stone corridors as it laid eerily quiet at Saruman’s demise.
And then, at long last, he found you.
Tucked away in the darkest recesses of the dungeons, barely visible amidst the shadows, lay your frail form. Your breaths barely there, faint. Aragorn's heart constricted with anguish at the sight of you, his beloved, so close to the brink of death.
With trembling hands and a voice choked with emotion. Aragorn gathered you into his arms. He cradled you against his chest as if he could shield you from the darkness that threatened to take you from him. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he whispered words of love and reassurance. His voice was a soothing balm to your battered soul.
As he held you in his arms as gently as he could he broke down. "Gandalf! Legolas! Gimli! Anyone, help!" His cries reverberated through the silent halls of Orthanc. Each plea in desperation for your salvation. He cried for someone to come to your aid.
Tears streamed down his cheeks as he cradled you against his chest, his heart breaking at the sight of you—so frail, so vulnerable, so close to slipping away from him forever. He whispered for you to hold on. His voice raw with emotion as he begged you to stay with him just a little while longer. But you remained unconscious. Your breaths shallow and labored, your life hanging by the slimmest of threads.
As Aragorn's desperate calls for help echoed through the halls of Orthanc. His heart broke with fear and anguish. Though finally his cries were answered. Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli came running, drawn by the urgency and desperation in Aragorn's voice. Their faces paled at the sight that greeted them. Your frail form cradled in Aragorn's arms, barely clinging to life.
Gimli, his usually stoic demeanor crumbling in the face of such tragedy, sank to his knees beside you. His heart heavy with sorrow. "By the beard of Durin," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "What have they done to you, lass?"
Legolas with eyes wide of shock and horror, approached tentatively. His usual grace replaced by a raw vulnerability as tears welled in his eyes. "Nay, this cannot be," he whispered. His voice trembling with grief. "Not Y/N... not like this."
Gandalf had a grave expression on his face as he stepped forward. His gaze piercing as he took in the extent of your injuries. "We must act swiftly," he declared. His voice commanding. "There is still hope, but time is of the essence."
With a sense of urgency, they rallied together. Their hearts heavy with grief but their resolve unyielding. With shaking hands Aragorn carried you from the depths of Orthanc, his footsteps echoing heavy through the silent halls as they emerged into the light of day.
As time grew short and the urgency of the situation became increasingly apparent, Gandalf knew that swift action was needed to save you. With a wave of his staff and a word of command he called forth one of the Great Eagles. Ancient creatures who served as allies to the free peoples of middle earth.
As Gandalf summons the Great Eagle to take you to Lothlórien Aragorn's determination to stay by your side remained unyielding. With a glance at the rest of the Fellowship he knew that their journey will be swift on horseback as the Great Eagle could not carry them all.
"Aragorn," Gandalf begins, his voice carrying a sense of urgency, "time is of the essence. We must act swiftly to save Y/N."
Aragorn nods solemnly, his gaze unwavering as he turns to Gandalf. "I will take her on the eagle to ensure she receives the care she needs. The rest of you must ride with haste to Lothlórien. I will meet you there." Gandalf and the others exchange a knowing look. Understanding the weight of Aragorn's decision. With a nod of agreement Gandalf turned to the rest of the Fellowship.
"We ride for Lothlórien," Gandalf declares, his voice echoing with authority. "May the Valar watch over us all."
As Aragorn carries you in his arms and mounts the Great Eagle the rest of the Fellowship saddles their horses and sets off towards Lothlórien knowing it would delay their plans to get to Mordor. But for you they knew they had to. With a sense of urgency driving them forward they rode with haste. Their hearts heavy with worry yet filled with hope that you will receive the care and healing you so desperately need.
After what felt like a lifetime to Aragon Great Eagle descended upon the lush treetops of Lothlórien. Aragorn's urgent pleas for help echo through the elven realm. Celeborn alerted by the urgency in Aragorn's voice, rushed forward from the heart of Lothlórien.
With swift steps, Celeborn reaches Aragorn's side just as the eagle touched down. He sees the urgency in Aragorn's eyes and the battered state of your body and without a moment's hesitation he takes you from Aragorn's arms. His expression a mix of concern and determination.
"Bring her to me," Celeborn commands. His voice carrying an air of authority.
Aragorn watches with a mixture of relief and apprehension as Celeborn rushes towards the healing chambers of Lothlórien. His skilled hands cradling you gently. With each step Aragorn's heart pounds with worry, but he knows that you are in good hands.
As Celeborn disappears into the depths of Lothlórien Aragorn's thoughts turn to the rest of the Fellowship who are still traveling on horseback. He knows that they will arrive soon with their hearts heavy with concern for you. He worried for you. For Frodo and Sam who were continuing their journey ahead. For the delay all of this brought. But he couldn’t seem to care about that all knowing the woman he loved was on the brink of death. The woman who was always so full of life may be taken from him far too soon. Before he could confess his true feelings.
With a silent prayer on his lips, he followed Celeborn into the healing chambers. His determination to see you healed burning brighter than ever. And as he stands vigil by your side surrounded by the gentle beauty of Lothlórien, he knows that though the road ahead may be long and fraught with peril. But together you will face whatever challenges come your way
As hours pass in Lothlórien, Celeborn's efforts to heal you are met with frustratingly little progress. Despite his skill and knowledge your condition remains unchanged. Leaving both him and Aragorn filled with growing despair. Realizing that more drastic measures are needed, Celeborn calls upon his wife, Galadriel, for assistance. Together they work tirelessly through the and night. Their combined powers focused on bringing you back from the darkness of unconsciousness.
Aragorn watched with a heavy heart as Galadriel joins Celeborn in the healing chambers. Her presence a glimmer of hope amidst the peril that threatened to consume him. He knows that if anyone can help you it is the Lady of the Wood, with all her wisdom and grace.
Days turn into nights and still you remain unresponsive. You were lost in a realm of unconsciousness from which you seem unable to awaken. Aragorn's faith began to waver. His heart heavy with doubt and fear as he watches Galadriel and Celeborn work tirelessly to save you. But just when all seems lost, a miracle occurred. After a few days of ceaseless effort, Galadriel kneels beside your bedside and offers a rare prayer to the Valar. Her voice is soft but filled with conviction as she calls upon their aid. Her plea echoing through the halls of Lothlórien.
And then as if in response to her prayer, you stir from your slumber. Your eyes fluttering open for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Aragorn's heart leapt with joy as he watches you awaken. His faith restored in the power of love.
With tears of relief streaming down his cheeks, Aragorn gathers you into his arms. Holding you close as he whispers words of gratitude and love. As you lay there finally awake but still weak and fragile, Aragorn's emotions overwhelm him. Tears stream down his face as he gathers you into his arms holding you close with a fierce, desperate grip but gentle so not to hurt you further.
"I love you," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "I love you more than words can express, my love. You cannot leave me again. Please, never leave me again. Please."
His words are a plea. A prayer whispered into the stillness of the healing chambers. His heart ached with the fear of losing you. The fear of facing a world without the light of your presence beside him. And as he holds you close, his tears mingling with yours. He knew that he would give anything to keep you safe. To protect you from harm. As he pours out his heart to you, he realizes just how much you mean to him—how much he needs you by his side, now and always.
"You love me?" you whisper. Your voice barely above a breath as you look up at him, your eyes searching his for confirmation.
Aragorn's laughter fills the air. A warm and comforting sound that washes over you like sunlight breaking through the clouds. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and reassuring.
"Did I not make it so obvious my wayward love?" he replies, his voice teasing yet tender as he meets your gaze with a smile.
Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at his words. You can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. Galadriel and Celeborn who have been observing the exchange with amusement, share a knowing look, their eyes twinkling with mirth of the love unfolding before them.
But in that moment as you gaze into Aragorn's eyes and share a laugh together all your worries and fears seem to melt away. For in his arms surrounded by the love and support of your companion, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead you will face them with him. Your beloved.
And as the laughter fades into a comfortable silence, you rest your head against Aragorn's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. With his arms wrapped around you, you know that you are home.
As Celeborn and Galadriel summon the rest of the Fellowship, the healing chambers soon fill with the familiar faces of your companions. Their expressions a mix of relief and joy at the sight of you awake, alive and with that smile adorning your soft features.
Gimli with his gruff exterior softened by the depth of his concern, rushes forward to your side. His eyes were brimming with tears. "By Durin's beard, lass! I thought I'd never see you awake again," he exclaims, his voice trembling with emotion as he clasps your hand tightly in his own.
Gandalf had his wise eyes shining with warmth, approaches with a gentle smile. "It is good to see you awake, my dear friend," he spoke. His voice filled with genuine relief. "You have faced darkness and emerged victorious. You are stronger than you will ever know."
Legolas, his fair face radiant with joy, stepped forward with a soft smile. "I am glad to see you awake, mellon nin," he smiled to you. His voice gentle and sincere. "The world is a brighter place with you in it."
Merry and Pippin, their youthful exuberance infectious as always rush to your side with wide smiles on their faces. "You had us worried there for a moment," Merry says, his voice filled with relief. "But you're back with us now and that's all that matters."
Pippin nods eagerly as his eyes shining with unshed tears. "We thought we'd lost you," he admits, his voice wavering with emotion. "But you're a fighter, just like Aragorn said. You'll always come back to us."
As the Fellowship gathers around you with their voices filled with laughter and tears. You felt a profound sense of gratitude wash over you. As you were surrounded by the love and support of your friends you know that no matter what trials may come your way you will always have each other.
As the night descended upon Lothlórien after you woke, Aragorn remained by your side as the rest of the Fellowship retired. His love and devotion unwavering as he tends to your every need.
With gentle hands he washes away the grime and dirt of your ordeal away. His touch tender and reassuring against your skin. He cleanses away the scars of battle as his fingers trace each line and mark with care, as if trying to erase the memories of pain that linger there.
As he helps you change into fresh clothes his gaze never strays from yours. His eyes were filled with an intensity of emotion that took your breath away. He spoke softly. His voice a soothing melody that fills the silence of the healing chambers.
"You are my light in the dark," he whispered softly to you. His words a declaration of love that echoes in the stillness of the night. "You are the reason I fight, the reason I endure. Without you I am lost my love."
Tears fill your eyes at his words. The depth of his love overwhelming in its intensity. "And you are mine," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you reach out to touch his face. "You are the reason I am alive, the reason I kept going. Even in the worst of times."
As the soft glow of moonlight filters through the canopy of leaves above Aragorn's adoration for you seems to shine even brighter. With every touch, every whispered word, he worships you as if you were a goddess descended from the heavens themselves.
He kneels before you, his eyes alight with reverence. He places gentle kisses upon your hands, your cheeks, your forehead, as if each kiss is a silent prayer to the gods, thanking them for blessing him with your presence. Thanking them for letting you live.
"I am unworthy of your love," he murmurs. His voice filled with sincerity as he gazes up at you with awe. "But I swear to you, I will spend every moment of my life trying to prove myself worthy of you."
His words melt your heart. Filling you with a warmth that spreads from the tips of your fingers to the depths of your soul. You reach out to cup his face in your hands, tracing the lines of his jaw with your fingers. Feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath your touch.
"You are more than worthy," you whisper, your voice barely a breath as you gaze into his eyes, seeing the depth of his love reflected back at you. "You are my everything, Aragorn. Without you I am nothing."
As you hold each other close surrounded by the quiet beauty of the elven realm. You know that nothing in this world could ever tear you apart. For in each other's arms, you have found a love that transcends time and space. A love that is as boundless as the stars themselves and as enduring as the ages to come.
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estapa-edwards · 9 months ago
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CAPTIVATED - N. HISCHIER
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paring: Nico Hischier x reader
word count: 1.3k
requested? yes - nico having fallen in love with a girl he saw dancing on a stage one day… what he didn’t know was it was his new teammates little sister timo
warnings: use of y/n.
*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*
As the pulsating rhythm of the arena music reverberated through the air, I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins. The spotlight illuminated the stage, casting shadows that danced around me as I moved to the beat. Each step, each twirl was a symphony of motion, a celebration of life in its purest form. Little did I know that amidst the cheering crowd and flashing lights, destiny was about to weave its intricate threads around my heart.
I live for the thrill of the dance. But on that fateful night, as I lost myself in the music, little did I realize that my world was about to collide with that of Nico Hischier, the captain of the New Jersey Devils.
Nico was more than just a hockey player; he was the epitome of leadership and dedication. His presence on the ice commanded respect, his determination driving the team forward even in the face of adversity. And yet, beneath that steely exterior, there was a warmth in his eyes that spoke of kindness and compassion.
--
As fate would have it, Nico found himself in the audience that night, drawn to the spectacle unfolding on stage. And amidst the sea of faces, his gaze found mine, locking in a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. In that instant, I felt a connection—a spark of recognition that transcended words.
For Nico, it was like being struck by lightning—a sudden jolt of electricity that sent his heart into a frenzy. He had seen many beautiful sights in his life, but none had captivated him quite like the girl on stage. Little did he know that she would soon become more than just a fleeting memory.
After the performance, Nico found himself unable to shake the image of the mysterious dancer from his mind. He knew he had to find her, to unravel the enigma that had taken hold of his thoughts. And so, with determination in his heart, he set out to discover the identity of the girl who had stolen his breath away
Nico's quest to find the mysterious dancer consumed his thoughts day and night. Despite scouring social media platforms and reaching out to friends and acquaintances, he found himself hitting dead ends at every turn. The enigma of the girl who had captivated him remained unsolved, a puzzle that seemed destined to elude him.
Days turned into weeks, and still, Nico's search yielded no results. Doubt began to creep into his mind, whispering words of frustration and despair. Perhaps she was just a figment of his imagination, a fleeting illusion that had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
--
But just when Nico was on the brink of giving up hope, fate intervened in the most unexpected of ways. It was a typical day at practice for the Devils, the sound of skates slicing through the ice echoing through the arena. Nico was lost in the rhythm of the game, his mind focused on the task at hand, when suddenly, he saw her.
There, standing on the sidelines, was the girl from his dreams—the mysterious dancer who had haunted his thoughts for weeks on end. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Nico's heart pounded in his chest. He couldn't believe his eyes, couldn't comprehend the reality of what he was seeing. As Nico's gaze fixated on the familiar figure approaching Timo, confusion mingled with disbelief. It was as though the universe had conspired to bring her into his path once again, yet the circumstances left him utterly bewildered.
Timo's expression lit up as he embraced the approaching girl, a smile stretching across his face. It was a sight that Nico couldn't tear his eyes away from, his mind racing to make sense of the unexpected encounter.
In that moment, a torrent of emotions surged through Nico's veins—hope, disbelief, and a profound sense of longing. He wanted to reach out to her, to bridge the gap that separated them, but uncertainty held him back.
As Timo and the girl engaged in animated conversation, Nico observed from a distance, his heart heavy with unspoken questions. Who was she to Timo? How had their paths crossed once more? And most importantly, why did she feel so familiar, as though she had been a part of his life all along?
Despite the flood of uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm him, Nico couldn't deny the magnetic pull drawing him towards her. With each step she took, she seemed to come alive in his mind—a vision of beauty and grace that left him breathless.
And as he watched her laugh and smile, a flicker of recognition sparked in Nico's heart. It was as though he had known her all along, as though their souls were intertwined in a dance as old as time itself.
With determination burning in his veins, Nico made his way towards Timo and the girl, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space of the arena. He knew that he couldn't let this opportunity slip away—that fate had brought them together once more for a reason.
As he approached, Timo turned to greet him with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hey, Nico! I want you to meet someone special," he said, gesturing towards the girl at his side.
Nico's heart skipped a beat as he met her gaze, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place with startling clarity. She was the girl from his dreams—the mysterious dancer who had captured his heart with a single glance. 
“Nico, this is my sister, Y/n.”
As Timo uttered those words, everything seemed to click into place for Nico. The pieces of the puzzle finally fell into alignment, and he found himself staring at Y/N with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"Y/N," he repeated her name, the syllables rolling off his tongue with a sense of familiarity that sent shivers down his spine. It was as though he had known her all along, as though she had been the missing piece of his life's puzzle.
Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as she met Nico's gaze, a flicker of recognition passing between them. It was a moment of profound revelation—a realization that their paths had been destined to intertwine from the very beginning.
For Nico, it was as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders—a burden of uncertainty and doubt that had plagued him for weeks on end. Here, in front of him, stood the girl who had captured his heart with a single glance, his soulmate in every sense of the word.
As they stood there, bathed in the glow of the arena lights, a sense of peace settled over Nico's heart. He knew that he had finally found what he had been searching for. 
--
As Timo introduced her to Nico, Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't deny the rush of excitement and nervousness that surged through her veins at the sight of the captain of the New Jersey Devils standing before her. But as she looked into Nico's eyes, something shifted within her—a sense of familiarity and connection that she couldn't quite explain.
When Nico repeated her name, Y/N felt a jolt of recognition shoot through her, as though she had been waiting for him her entire life. His voice was like music to her ears, resonating deep within her soul with a sense of belonging that she had never known before.
As their eyes met, a silent understanding passed between them—a shared recognition of the bond that bound their hearts together. It was as though they had known each other in another lifetime, their souls drawn together by an invisible thread that refused to be broken.
In that moment, Y/N felt a weight lift from her shoulders—a burden of loneliness and longing that had weighed her down for far too long. Here, in front of her, stood Nico Hischier, the man who had captured her heart with a single glance, her soulmate in every sense of the word.
As they stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the arena lights, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over her heart. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she had finally found what she had been searching for—a love that transcended time and space, a love that would endure for all eternity.
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imaginesforfandom · 11 months ago
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A Wolverine's Heartache - Part III
Part I Part II
i'm so sorry it took so long for me to post this!! i've been drowning in work :,(
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Logan/James Howlett x Reader
She/Her pronouns used!!
Summary: Logan struggles after seeing a person he loves alive. Will he be able to save her?
In the moments leading up to Logan's journey back in time, the Xavier Institute was a hub of frantic activity, a beacon of hope in the face of impending doom. The threat of the Sentinels loomed large, casting a shadow of fear and uncertainty over the mutant community.
Logan, haunted by the memory of Y/N's tragic death and driven by a desperate need to prevent further loss, had become the linchpin in a daring plan to alter the course of history. With the help of Professor Xavier and a handful of trusted allies, Logan prepared to embark on a mission that would defy the very fabric of time itself.
The decision to send Logan back in time was not made lightly. It required sacrifices – sacrifices that weighed heavily on the hearts of those left behind. Yet, in the face of imminent destruction, there was no room for hesitation.
As Logan stood before the makeshift time-travel device, his resolve hardened like steel. The weight of his mission bore down on him, a burden he carried with grim determination. He knew the risks – the possibility of altering the timeline, of facing enemies both old and new – but the chance to rewrite history and save those he loved was a gamble he was willing to take.
Before he could second-guess himself, Logan braced himself for the journey ahead. With a final glance at his comrades, a silent promise etched in his eyes, he stepped into the swirling vortex of energy, disappearing into the unknown depths of the past.
In that pivotal moment, the fate of the world hung in the balance. For Logan, it was a journey fraught with peril and uncertainty, but it was also a journey fueled by hope – hope for redemption, for a chance to right the wrongs of the past, and for a future where Y/N's death would be nothing more than a distant memory.
As Logan's consciousness shifted through time, propelled back to a pivotal moment before the devastation wrought by the Sentinels, a sense of urgency gripped him like a vice. His mission was clear: to prevent the cataclysmic events that had led to Y/N's tragic demise.
Arriving in the past, Logan found himself in a world that was both familiar and yet subtly different. The Xavier Institute bustled with life, its halls alive with the laughter of students and the gentle hum of telepathic conversations. But for Logan, it was a world tinged with sorrow, a reminder of the losses he had endured.
As he navigated the bustling corridors, searching for allies to aid him in his quest, Logan's heart quickened at the thought of encountering Y/N. She existed in this timeline, vibrant and alive, yet unaware of the role she would play in shaping their shared destiny.
When Logan finally came face to face with Y/N, his breath caught in his throat. She was different here – a younger version of the person he had known, her features softened by innocence and untainted by the scars of war. And yet, there was an undeniable familiarity in her presence, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time.
As their eyes met, Logan felt a surge of emotions wash over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs. In that fleeting moment, he saw echoes of the Y/N he had lost, a reminder of the bond they had shared across time and space.
But for Y/N, Logan was a stranger – a mysterious figure with haunted eyes and a sense of purpose that seemed to emanate from his very being. And yet, there was something in his gaze, a depth of emotion that stirred something within her – a feeling she couldn't quite place.
As Logan reached out to Y/N, his hand trembling with the weight of unspoken truths, he knew that convincing her to join him would be no easy task. But for Y/N, Logan's presence ignited a spark of curiosity, a whisper of destiny that beckoned her towards a future she could not yet fathom.
As Logan stood before the younger version of Y/N, his heart clenched with a mixture of emotions – longing, regret, and an urgent sense of purpose. He knew that convincing her of the impending danger would be no easy task, especially considering she had no recollection of their shared history.
Y/N regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice tinged with a hint of defiance.
Logan took a deep breath, steeling himself for the difficult task ahead. "I know this is hard to believe, but you need to listen to me. I'm from the future, and I've seen what happens if we don't act now."
Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief, a scoff escaping her lips. "From the future? That's impossible. Why should I trust you?"
Logan knew he had to choose his words carefully, to break through the wall of skepticism that surrounded her. "I know this is a lot to take in, but I've seen the devastation caused by the Sentinels. They've hunted us down, taken everything from us. If we don't stop them now, there won't be a future for any of us."
Y/N's expression softened slightly, but her hesitation remained palpable. "And why should I believe you? You could be anyone, spinning tales to manipulate me."
Logan's jaw tightened with frustration, but he forced himself to remain calm. He understood her skepticism – after all, he was asking her to believe in the impossible. "I understand your doubts, but you have to trust me. Lives are at stake here, including yours. We need to work together to stop this."
Y/N's gaze flickered with uncertainty, torn between disbelief and a nagging sense of curiosity. She wanted to dismiss Logan's words as the ramblings of a madman, but there was something in his eyes – a depth of sincerity that gave her pause.
As Logan pleaded with her to heed his warning, Y/N felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over her – fear, anger, and a flicker of hope. In that moment of uncertainty, she grappled with the weight of the decision before her, knowing that the fate of the world rested in her hands – and in the hands of the enigmatic stranger who claimed to hold the key to their salvation.
The moment hung suspended in time, a fragile balance between doubt and determination. Y/N stood before Logan, her gaze locked with his, uncertainty etched into the lines of her face. Logan's plea echoed in the air, a whispered promise of redemption and salvation, and for a fleeting instant, Y/N hesitated.
But then, something shifted within her – a spark of resolve that ignited in the depths of her soul. It was a quiet realization, born from the depths of her own courage and fueled by the unwavering belief that together, they could make a difference.
With a steadying breath, Y/N met Logan's gaze, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her. "Alright. I'll help you."
The words hung in the air like a beacon of hope, a testament to the strength of her conviction. In that moment, a weight lifted from Logan's shoulders, replaced by a surge of gratitude and relief. He had expected resistance, perhaps even outright rejection, but Y/N's willingness to trust him filled him with a sense of purpose unlike anything he had ever known.
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As the tension reached its peak in the crowded conference room, Logan and Y/N moved with precision and determination, their eyes locked in silent communication. They had trained for this moment, prepared for the pivotal role they would play in altering the course of history.
Amidst the chaos, Mystique, disguised as a government official, made her move, her gun trained on Trask, the architect of the Sentinel program. But before she could pull the trigger, Logan sprang into action, his instincts honed by years of combat.
With a swift motion, he intercepted Mystique's shot, deflecting the bullet away from its intended target. The room erupted into chaos as panic spread like wildfire, but Logan remained focused, his gaze never wavering from Mystique's determined form.
Beside him, Y/N moved with a grace and precision that belied her years, her powers weaving through the air like a symphony of light and shadow. With a flick of her wrist, she immobilized Mystique, her telekinetic abilities holding her captive in a shimmering cocoon of energy.
As the dust settled and order was restored, Logan and Y/N shared a fleeting glance, a silent acknowledgment of the pivotal role they had played in preventing catastrophe. In that moment, the bond between them deepened, forged in the crucible of adversity.
But as they stood amidst the aftermath of their actions, a sense of uncertainty lingered in the air. The future remains uncertain, and the threat of the Sentinels still loomed large. Yet, for the first time in a long time, Logan allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope – a hope that with Y/N by his side, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead, together.
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As Logan's consciousness shifted back to the future, his senses reeled from the disorienting transition. The world around him was a blur of chaos and destruction, the aftermath of the battle against the Sentinels evident in the smoldering ruins that surrounded him. But amidst the devastation, one sight stood out like a beacon of light in the darkness.
There, among the ragged survivors, stood Y/N – her presence a ray of hope amidst the despair. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Logan's gaze locked onto her familiar form, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and gratitude.
Without hesitation, he moved towards her, his steps fueled by an overwhelming urge to reach her side. As he drew closer, their eyes met, and in that instant, a flood of emotions washed over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs.
Unable to resist any longer, Logan closed the distance between them in a single stride, his arms enveloping Y/N in a tight embrace. It was a gesture born from the depths of his soul, a silent vow to never let her go again.
In that poignant moment, as Logan's arms enveloped Y/N in a tight embrace amidst the wreckage of their war-torn world, a whirlwind of emotions stirred within him, threatening to overwhelm his senses.
First and foremost was an overwhelming sense of relief – relief that Y/N was alive and standing before him, a beacon of hope amidst the devastation. The mere sight of her, her presence a comforting reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged, filled his heart with a profound sense of gratitude.
But alongside relief, there was also a deep-seated longing – a longing for the lost time, for the moments they had shared before the world had descended into chaos. Seeing Y/N again awakened a flood of memories, memories of laughter and camaraderie, of unspoken connections and shared moments that now felt like distant echoes in the wake of tragedy.
Mixed with longing was a potent undercurrent of regret – regret for the pain and suffering they had endured, for the lives lost and the futures stolen. Logan couldn't help but wonder if there was more he could have done, if he could have somehow prevented the devastation that had torn them apart.
Yet, amidst the tumult of emotions, there was also a fierce determination – a determination to protect Y/N at all costs, to ensure that she would never again face the horrors of war alone. In that moment, as he held her close, Logan made a silent vow to do whatever it took to keep her safe, to carve out a future where they could finally find peace.
And underlying it all was a profound sense of love – a love that transcended time and space, a love that had endured despite the odds. In Y/N's arms, Logan found solace amidst the chaos, a glimmer of hope in a world consumed by darkness.
After the embrace had ended, Logan held onto Y/N's hands tightly, his gaze locking with hers with a newfound intensity. In that moment, the weight of his unspoken emotions pressed heavily upon him, urging him to finally lay bare the truth that had long been buried within his heart.
"Y/N," he began, his voice rough with emotion, "I… I need you to know something. I've been a fool, blind to what's been right in front of me all along."
Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her heart fluttering with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. She waited with bated breath as Logan continued, his words carrying the weight of a lifetime's worth of regrets.
"I love you, Y/N," Logan confessed, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with an undeniable sincerity. "I've loved you for longer than I care to admit, but I was too damn stubborn to see it. I let my fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and for that, I'm sorry."
Tears welled in Y/N's eyes at Logan's confession, her heart swelling with a rush of emotions she could hardly comprehend. In that moment, the walls she had built around her heart crumbled, leaving her vulnerable but unafraid.
"Logan," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, "I love you too. I've loved you for as long as I can remember, but I was too afraid to say it. Too afraid of what it might mean, of what we might lose."
Their hands tightened around each other's, a silent vow passing between them. In that shared moment of vulnerability, Logan and Y/N laid bare their hearts, their love for each other a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness.
And as they stood together, tears mingling with smiles, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as they were together, they would face them with unwavering courage and unyielding love. For in each other's arms, they had found a home – a sanctuary amidst the chaos, where their love could flourish and grow stronger with each passing day.
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again, i'm so sorry it took me so long!!! this term has been so exhausting :,(
i really hope you guys liked the final part!! i hadn't meant to make it this long but i got a little carried away lol. i know it's not fully canon to the movies, sorry bout that.
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