#you give me peace and clarity and belonging

[ghostlyferrettarot]

♥︎Pick a picture:💕⭐️Channeled messages from your future self⭐️💕

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

⭐️If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!⭐️

💕Masterlist💕

💙Pile 1:

"You are closer than you think to the life you truly desire, just trust the process."

"The change you fear so much is the door that will lead you to what truly belongs to you."

"Do not underestimate the power of patience; what is to come will be much greater than you imagine."

"Your intuition already knows the answer, it is time to listen to it and act with confidence."

"Remember: everything you have overcome has prepared you for what is to come. There is no turning back."

"Sometimes, moving away from the known is necessary to make room for the new and extraordinary."

"The love you give yourself is the first step to attracting what you deserve in all areas of your life."

"It is time to let go of what no longer serves you; the universe has something better in store for you."

"Your personal power is unbreakable. Do not let anyone or anything make you doubt your ability."

"Opportunities are in front of you, you just need to take the first step with faith and courage."

Hi Pile 1! Your future self is so wise and clever, they are in a powerful position for sure. It's time to take the first step you need, you are capable and are ready for what's next!

💖Pile 2:

"The calm before the storm is the sign that something big is coming, get ready to receive it."

"Your efforts have not been in vain. The universe is preparing the ground for your success."

"You don't have to have all the answers now. Sometimes, the most important thing is to trust the path."

"You are breaking free from what was holding you back. Peace and clarity are closer than you think."

"Your energy is aligned with change. Don't resist the inevitable, embrace the transformation."

"The time to heal has come. Emotional release is your first step towards fulfillment."

"The stars have aligned your destiny for a greater purpose, trust that everything happens for a reason."

"It's time to manifest what you want. The universe is listening to your deepest thoughts."

"You are in the process of rebuilding yourself, give it time."

"What seems uncertain now, will become clearer in time. Allow yourself to trust the journey."

Hi pile 2! You are in a transformation process and your future self wants you to know that everything will be fine, just give yourself the time you need and don't push to hard; be gentle with yourself, a big hug for you pile 2.

💕Pile 3:

"Your capacity to achieve great things is far beyond what you imagine. Trust your potential."

"The opportunities you seek are on your way."

"You are ready to receive everything the universe has prepared for you."

"Every challenge you face is an opportunity in disguise. You are being prepared for something much greater."

"The key to success is constant action. Don't stop, the universe is aligning everything for you."

"Doors are opening, and you hold the key. Don't doubt your ability to take advantage of every opportunity."

"Your dreams are valid and attainable. The first step is to believe in them as much as you believe in yourself."

"You are attracting success because you are aligned with your purpose. Keep believing, keep moving forward, the best is yet to come."

"Your capacity to love and create is infinite. Everything you put your heart into doing, becomes art."

"You are exactly where you need to be. Every step you take brings you closer to the person you are destined to be."

Hi pile 3! You are definitely working hard for your dreams and I see that you will be someone very successful! Feel that you are someone artistic, who connects with the most sincere parts of yourself when creating, this will lead you to find your way. Keep going pile 3!

💕💖Thank you for reading and tell me if it resonated 💖💕

[antebunny]

go away

After Bruce Wayne dies, it only takes Tim about three weeks to show up on Dick Grayson’s doorstep with a 3-ring binder full of evidence. He runs a finger along the top metal ring of the binder over and over as he waits for a response to the doorbell. All at once he feels thirteen years old again, clutching months of painstakingly collected notes written up neatly and sorted into sections. Dick never read any of it, yet Tim did it all again. Had his photos developed for ease of viewing access, included sources for all of his claims, stuck to his main points for clarity’s sake but has pages and pages of extra information in the back of the binder for when–if–Dick decides to give his idea a thorough look. 

But Tim is seventeen years old now, old enough to know where he went wrong the first time. Yesterday he spent hours coming up with argument after argument, approach after approach, to get through to Dick. Mr. Grayson, I’m so sorry for your loss. He’s probably tired of hearing that. Mr. Grayson, I have something I think you’ll want to see. Too quick to the point. If he doesn’t recognize Tim, maybe he’ll try Mr. Grayson, I know about your night life and I want to help. If he does, then maybe Mr. Grayson, I want to say I’m sorry about last time, but this isn’t like last time, I swear–

The door opens. Tim knows that it’s Dick by the smell. Sweat, unwashed clothes, and misery. How like last time. Dick looks like the epitome of grief, which is to say, not like himself. Dick Grayson is a creature of happiness by nature, of high-flying freedom, of beloved family and friends, a picture-perfect cover boy, always adored, always with a beautiful redhead, Batgirl or Starfire or Arsenal, yes Tim knows his type, always kind, always charming, always happy to be there. But Tim only ever seems to know him in these liminal states of horrible tragedy. 

Worst of all, Tim can’t quite tell if Dick recognizes him. 

“Mr. Grayson,” he begins, heart pounding so loudly he cannot hear himself speak, “I don’t think Mr. Wayne is dead.”

For a moment longer than Tim’s entire lifespan, Dick just stares at him. Blue eyes hazy and unfocused. One hand on the doorframe, one hand dragging through the stubble growing on his half-shaved jaw. He’s wearing an AC/DC shirt. Given Dick’s fashion tastes (bright colors) and Bruce Wayne’s music tastes, neither of which Tim should know, he is 98% certain that the AC/DC shirt used to belong to Bruce Wayne. 

When Dick finally speaks, his voice sounds like the death of all joy. 

“How many family members do I have to lose before you let me grieve in peace?”

Tim’s pounding heartbeat becomes a deafening white noise as Dick’s question pangs around his chest. His eyes sting so fiercly that Tim knows it is as visible as Dick’s misery. Nevertheless, he persists, if only for Bruce Wayne. No one else will save him if not for Tim. So even though his hero thinks Tim is a creepy little stalker with the unbelievable audacity to swagger into Dick’s life and tell him how to fix it, well. He’s not wrong, is he? What does it matter if Tim once upon a time dreamed of more? Saving Bruce Wayne is far more important than Tim’s nonexistent chances of becoming friends with Nightwing. 

“Jason came back.” Tim’s chin, lifted stubbornly, trembles. 

Dick’s face clouds over with a rage so terrible that Tim sincerely believes he’s about to get punched by Nightwing. Which wouldn’t be so bad. Tim deserves it, doesn’t he? Intruding on a stranger’s grief like this is probably a punchable offense. He’ll bear it all if only Dick listens, but it looks like he managed to blow it in the span of two sentences. 

In the end, though Dick’s hands curl into fists and his shoulders shake like traintracks, he turns his head at the last second and rests his forehead on the doorframe. Tears streak down his perfect jawline. Watching Dick Grayson cry is like watching Atlantis sink. It’s like watching the Mona Lisa go up in flames. Tim knows stuff like this is why Dick treats him like a celebrity-obsessed stalker living in a weird fantasy world where he’s a part of the Wayne family. He knows it’s why Dick hates him. Tim still can’t help that it’s captivating to watch.

“Go away,” Dick begs.

Tim has never felt more like the scum of the earth, yet still he’d persist if he thought there was a chance of getting Nightwing to listen to him. But there isn’t. So Tim, as lonely, rejected, unworthy and fucking correct as he is, sees himself out of the apartment building.

Two weeks later, he catches a flight to Lahore.

[tarotofhope]

PAC: ♡ Channelled Love Songs from your Current/Future Romantic Partner ♡

(Please Read My Pinned post *IMPORTANT NOTE* before selecting a Pile)

Pick an Image by meditating and selecting the image you feel called to. You can be attracted towards more than 1 image. If you are not able to select maybe this reading isn't for you.

(You can find all the songs mentioned in the Piles on SPOTIFY. Unfortunately Tumblr only allows 10 audio links per post🥲)

Pile 1

Songs - Aaya Jado Da by Asees Kaur

Screen Time by Epik High ft. Hoshi

Don't Forget To Breathe by Aaryan Shah

Welcome to your reading, Pile 1. First of all, lot of green ink occured in your pile. Your partner seems very caring, nurturing and protective of you. They might be a very caring and loving person themselves, very protective of their belongings and loved ones. They like to have a quick check on you(like not in a toxic or negative way). They want to know you better and your little quirks. They genuinely care about your well being. They might be very cautious, structured, organised individual, a fitness freak as well. They seem kind of very picky, they don't open up to just anybody, they might have very few close friends. They're mostly not interested in flings and one-night stands. They take relationships seriously so they'll only jump into it when they see some real value in it. This person is like a 'husband/wife material' person or atleast a long term partner. This also seems like a long distance relationship to me or getting into a relationship after a series of personal hardships when you've become very mature either age-wise or experience-wise.

So, that's all I got for you, my dear Pile 1.

Hope you're with this person or find this person soon 😉

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌸🌼🌻

Pile 2

Songs - Talk About Love by Callum Beattie

Seven- Clean Version by Jungkook

Tenu Khabar Nahi by Arijit Singh

Welcome to your reading, Pile 2. Have you guys currently been in separation or broken up with your partner? This could be a recent past energy as well. See, now this also looks like an ex's energy(I don't like to go into this topic because it creates unnecessary confusion but it appeared in the reading so I had to) and whether ex or not, if you strictly don't want this person back into your life, you must then very well know that you've ended up for good and you don't need to allow this person back or this pile totally isn't for you, you should select another pile. One thing is prominent though, one of you has done something bad to the another person..and that was the main reason for your guys' separation. I'm nobody to judge you guys, you know yourselves better. Well, whoever this person is, they want to reconcile with you or you're currently reconciling already. It could be a different case for everyone choosing this pile. It could be so that this person or both of you might still have feelings for each other. This person wants to make things better or do things right. There is a promise of not making the same mistakes again. This person is asking for another chance. Now, you need to decide for yourselves, what's good for you and what's not. It's totally up to you.

That's all I see in the cards for you, my dear Pile 2.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌸🌼🌻

Pile 3

Songs - Tera Mera Hai Pyar Amar by Ahmed Jahanzeb

I'm Gonna Love You by D.O. ft. Wonstein

Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley

Welcome to your reading, Pile 3. This person looks so in love. But more so, this person is very sure of you, there feelings are very intense, too. As they are saying, that it's so easy to fall in love with you, either it's a love at first sight situation or there is a certain clarity about choosing you/about wanting to continue further with you. Nothing can change their mind about you. They are giving me strong future spouse energy because they just want to take you away as soon as possible. So, they'll be very assertive in their approach towards you in the courtship period itself. I also think that they'll be the first one to approach you if you've not met this person already. They'll make sure that you know they are not just fooling around, that you're in for a very long ride. They'll also want to make sure that you too, feel the same way for them before going very far because they want it all or nothing. They'll definitely try to win your heart over, Pile 3.

That's all I got for you, dear Pile 3.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌼🌸🌻

Pile 4

Songs - Young And Beautiful by Lana Del Rey

Every Second by Baekhyun from EXO (Record of

Youth OST- 3)

Aadat Se Majboor by Benny Dayal

Welcome to your reading, Pile 4. This person might be a heart-throb. Popular person energy(for their work or looks). Everybody swoons over them. Their energy is quite charming and charismatic. They are bold, fun loving and outgoing, life of the party kind of person. You both might be quite the opposite of each other. They will be very confident in their approach. They might just be nervous about how to woo you because you are different from others and they don't want to make any mistake. They don't want to look like a creep. If you've already met this person or in a relationship, you know. They are someone who'll totally make a fool out of themselves to make you laugh. They love to see you smile and laugh but also, you don't laugh a lot, it seems. There seems to be a lot of people who are sexually attracted to them, but they choose you because you are special to them, you're not like the others according to them. They might've got their heart broken a couple times earlier due to which they're afraid of losing you but that's not going to be the case because they're sure of one thing that you're very firm in your decisions, rock solid and you won't run away when life gets bad. You guys are going to be like a power couple, each helping the other person where they are lacking, each completing the other.

So, that's all I got for you, my dear Pile 4.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌻🌼🌸

Pile 5

Pile 5

Songs - Lover by Taylor Swift

Spider By Hoshi

Tere Mast Mast Do Nain by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan

Welcome to your reading, Pile 5. Your person seems very Venusian(very lovey-dovey, full of charm, likes fine art) and Neptunian(very dreamy) to me, a hopeless romantic even. Some of you might also be attracted to Pile 4, because this pile has got some similar vibes. They are magnetic, could also be popular for something that they do, something that only they create. They have a good taste in music as well, could be a musician or they like to play musical instruments. Dancing and singing could be their hobby or talent. They are also someone who knows flirting like the back of their hand. It comes naturally to them, sometimes they don't even know that they're flirting. They might also like good food and fine-dining, might also love to cook. You might not like this person in the beginning because you think they're a flirt and they don't look serious, but you'll eventually start liking them because they're not what they seem from the outside. It is giving me the vibes of 'One fell in love first, but the other one fell harder.' Their heart is so pure and innocent. They'll woo you with their heart, Pile 5. You seem like a tough nut to crack to them, someone who's hard to get. I also think you've got pretty eyes and a resting b**** face. They love it. There's going to be a playful banter between you guys. Everything will be worth it in the end.

So, that's all I've got for you, my dear Pile 5.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌻🌼🌸

Thank you so much for being here. I post PAC readings every Tuesday and Friday. Do love and support by reblogging, liking or following.

———————————♡ ♡ ♡———————————

[just-a-ghost00]

The way you make me feel ~

Images found on Pinterest. Deck used : golden thread tarot. Reading written from their POV.

Group 1

Hermit, Temperance, Queen of pentacles, The Magician, knight of pentacles, ace of pentacles

You make me feel safe. Cared for. Loved in ways I never thought were possible. Nurtured. Understood. Appreciated, not only because of my work or my wealth but solely for who I am as a person. You make me feel strong. Like the world is at the tip of my fingers and all I got to do is to reach further to make my wildest dreams come true. You make me feel strong. Determined. Wise. With you, everything seems so simple. So bright and warm. You make me feel like time has stopped and it's just the two of us. I feel like I am in a bubble. A cozy cocoon that was made just for me. I feel like I belong somewhere. Like finally, after so many trials and errors, I get to be rewarded. I feel so blessed to have you in my life. I still wonder how all of this is possible. You make me want to believe in magic again. I feel like I'm walking on a line, perfectly balanced and at peace with myself, reassured by the thought that whatever I decide to do, whichever way I decide to go, you'll be there to catch me if I fall. Like you'll always follow me and never leave my side. I feel so happy I could cry. You make me feel like everything is possible and nothing can stop me from my success. I feel invicible with you by my side. You make me want to believe in myself and move forward with my head held high, slowly but surely, at my own pace, on my own terms. With you I feel secure, confident in my ability to create a life I can be proud of, to embody a person that people can look up to with respect in their eyes. You make me feel grand, so much bigger than I am. You bring so much in my life that I don't know how I could ever thank you. In your presence, I feel like I am given a second chance at life. Like my time has come and I can be born again.

Group 2

10 of swords, 4 of wands, Temperance, 9 of pentacles, Hanged man, ace of wands

You make me feel puzzled. I don't know if I should be mad at you or adore you. You get on my nerves and yet you make me so proud. With you I feel like I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I don't feel as lonely as I used to be. I feel like I can hope for a better future than what I've been handed so far. I feel like I can overcome my fears and face any obstacle coming my way. Like I am worthy of love and interest. I feel alive again. I feel hopeful about the future and inspired to move forward. My creativity has rocketed. I feel triggered. Like everything I thought I knew is complete BS and that honestly shakes me and upsets me in a way. I feel like I have to start all over again, like my work wasn't enough and as good as I thought it was. You make me feel like focusing on myself and taking care of my own goals isn't as bad as it sounds. That I too am capable of creating a reality I can be proud of. Like my unique perception of life and lonely nature can actually be an asset and a driving force. You give me the courage to face my demons and be a better person. You make me feel like I can tip the scales in my favor and change the course of action. Like life isn't as harsh and bad as I thought it was. Like I can be whole again and enjoy the pleasures this world has to offer. You make me feel bold and curious again. You make me want to celebrate and have fun, to shift my perspective and learn. You challenge me. And as much as that confuses me that also sets me free. I'm not sure why or how you do this but I thank you for the clarity you bring into my life.

Group 3

Empress, 8 of pentacles, 8 of cups, High Priestess, 9 of pentacles, 10 of swords

You make me feel whole. Worthy of love and attention. Beautiful. Valuable. You make me feel powerful and important. Like all the worries in the world are nothing for I am stronger than this. With you I feel like there will never be a day where I feel sad again. Like I can tackle anything and turn dust into gold. You make me feel fearless. With you, the dark and sorrow don't sound as scary as they once were. You make me feel like my despair is over. Like my prayers have finally been answered. But I also feel scared. Scared that my depth and darkness will have a repelling effect on you. I fear that the more I grow, the more chances I have of losing you. You make me feel attractive. You make me want to love myself more and work harder to be a version of myself I will adore. You make me feel human. For the first time in my life I feel like I don't have to apologize for who I am. You make me feel understood, seen and appreciated. With you I feel protected. I feel like sadness can no longer hold me down. You make me want to reach higher heights and set higher goals, to prove everyone how wrong they were of underestimating me. You make me want to fight. You make me feel like I can own the world. Like I can finally stand in my power and embrace the entirety of my being without shame nor fear. You make me feel brand new, like I am reborn, like I have everything to gain and nothing to lose. You make me want to go beyond my limits and transform my being, to heal my wounds and move on once and for all from my past. I can't find the words to describe how much this means to me.

[gazeofseer]

🩵 Wⁱⁿᵗᵉʳ Sᵒˡᵃᶜᵉ ❄️

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

'Life has been quite weary, and I had so much to share the shed of my spirit, but not has a flush of storm but more like a divine solstice trance between the seasons, the sun during winter warm yet deeply cold and engaging with from my bones, wish someone heard me, rather than saying anything to me, if not all these things what can I feel is a lie? Or Life itself?'

°°°°♡°°°°°°°♡°°°°°°°°°♡°°°°°°°°♡°°°°°°°°°°°°

Pick a Pile of guidance for your soul (;

°°°°♡°°°°°°°♡°°°°°°°°°♡°°°°°°°°♡°°°°°°°°°°°°

Image.1

'Confusion is the only clarity, I have right now all the people around me feels perfectly fine and fit to whatever they get and give, while I am still at a thought why would somebody do that to me? What did I lack exactly to be ostracized by the living society? Why can't have emotions, why, and exactly why..?

The rage seems quite resilience but that does not mean you are not burning within, like the depth of the blue flames underneath the ocean you exist in this world with your utmost compassion, when one fails as a human they fail to be anything further, but who defined that part? Too many questions is juggling all the answers you have received so far but deep down you know what is yours and what is not.

Still letting go all at a pace seems like a game of pull and push where you may fumble off everything from your hands.

But isn't that beautiful to realise what you were holding was an mere idea and not an entire reality to that?

Be it people, be it a thing, its limitation is end to what they can reap here with you on this surface so let things be, is how you let go, let happiness be happy, let sorrow sorrow itself, sink with this reality where truth prevails, even beyond the thickest curtains that has been shed and covered.

Winter Season Guidance & Blessings );

- Aquarius, Gemini and Saggitarus in big three you may feel all your life so far has been somewhat gloomy or questionable of which you have no answer to this following season you will have a major breakdown which will begin. Pilling up as small conflicts, chaos and confrontation throughout the November.

- One thing you have to do is break your ego, you have this subtle of it where you do not show off but keep it as a fake guard so merely people don't bother you but it has been blocked your sense of living entirely where every choice you make seems wrong and regretful and every other action becomes a repent.

- Blessings, that follow through is protection timely guidance on your journey as long you are on a receiving edge then on a push away where you will suddenly realise even if you feel horrible within yourself people are there who are kind, loving and will reflect exactly what you are meant to feel within.

Signs : You are on your own kid by Taylor Swift, ring lover, six fingers, mole on feet or behind neck. Ground, Shed and drive through the chaos towards peace.

Image.2

'Enduring life as if it's a badge that I have to carry and show so that don't bring the worst at my table so never left the idea of being the best in the room even if I was clumsy I slammed disciplines out of passive aggression which failed my scores to repeat the same mistakes, again and again nobody is a problem but I am, at least that's how I feel.. because I don't care about what others think..but do they even think that I exist too? That never being the one or the last hurts like the middle child who neither belongs to dad or not to the mother? Like a lost and found thought I carry myself like a baggage full of grief barely smiling at lies anymore choosing to cry over the truth as better as I feel'

You have a special message from your soul ancestors, who could be you or from your tribe ;

- It's not your first time here you have 8 as prominent number and Saturn's 8 influence you may be attracted towards infinity sign if not all these you find these strange connection with things but that may not resonate like you have not much with moon but there is something keeps your drawn towards it.

- Your ancestors by soul are people who are waiting for you as an reward after you complete certain set of karmic cycles and journey throughout the age of 23 to 25 of you have passed then these are the years, you may even heard death or something illness or fatigue around you.

- The place you work/study at seems toxic enough to bloat or drain your energy you are being asked to wear some solid protection crystal or evil eye or carry some iron nails or tie a black knot thread on neck or wrist.

- They are here to assure your present self that you may feel what's the point of living tomorrow if all I have to do is die today, what if I not only survive the bests within me and reach my success as somebody in a worst state keeps you worried but take this as a release then stroke attested nothing is final unless you decide it is.

Signs : Mess it up by Gracie Abrams, Capricorn, Venus earth sign, saturn rings, introvert, queer, cynical and thinking throughout the sleep.

Image.3

'Wish, world was a kind place so that violence would have not been the way to attain, chaos would have not reaped peace, and sorrows would have not be awarded with the happiness, the constant sell and buy has consumed my heart enough to think where did I wet less by to be who am I ? What if I love myself? And still not chosen to give? Would I be mean judged and hated for? Can't I choose myself for one fucking time? Oh that foulness in my soul speaks so does this make me impure? Why can't I just live

Your soulmate has a say (;

- You had quite relations based on intent of compassion and comfort so whenever there was change it went a bit into the hands of confusion, enclosures and uncomfortable for you where you stood for the sick unless you become one and they all left one by one.

- You kept losing people because they were your soulmates reflecting you on different level even if they were opposite on the surface.

- You attract elderly people, be it a woman, men you have this demure and mature gaze that pulls people with intellect finding you adorable but it turns them off when you get pissed off and a cute mess which can't be controlled.

- Your soulmate assures you to carry on this journey you are on the right path, growing greys recently in your hair? Something about white, off whites and lighter greys are sign also the cardigan.

- Stop, finding a end to your love let it expand with you wherever you go, is how you will meet me.

Signs : Daydreaming, Lucky Girl, Pearls, Water Signs, Air signs, Stars, Night Lovers, His name starts from E, W, A and S. He is a random person who will enter by or during Christmas by this or next year's, avoid any red or yellow color his favourite colour is white.

.

Hope this reading reached the parts it was meant to !! ❄️🩵

[dearaur0ra]

five

silco x fem!oc

tw: blood, sex (vague), violence, mentions of death, cursing, hallucinations

previous masterlist ao3 next (soon)

—

the room was quiet save for the drip of a leaking pipe. i stood in the center, hands clasped behind my back. the dim light twisted my shadow into jagged shapes on the wall. before me, the table was a clutter of ledgers and schematics, topped with a glass of amber liquid that sat untouched.

across from me, the man knelt on the floor, his breathing shallow and stuttering. blood leaked from the gash on his temple, staining his shirt collar. he wasn’t begging yet, though the tears in his eyes told me he was close.

i tilted my head, studying him the way one might examine a bug caught underfoot. “do you have any idea,” i began, my voice a soft rasp, “how fragile all of this is?”

his gaze flicked up to me, trembling, silent. good. fear was starting to take hold.

“my city.” i paced around him slowly, tugging at the knot of my tie as i moved. “it balances on a knife’s edge—power and chaos, order and ambition. the smallest slip, the tiniest crack, and it all comes crashing down.”

his lips quivered. “i... i didn’t mean to—”

i yanked the tie free, cutting his stammer short. “didn’t mean to,” i repeated, wrapping the fabric tightly around my knuckles, pulling it taut. “that’s what the dead tell themselves before the ground swallows them. their intentions don’t matter, and neither do yours.”

he opened his mouth to protest again, but i was already moving.

my fist slammed into his face, the tie softening none of the impact. the sound of bone cracking filled the room, sharp and satisfying. the man crumpled forward, clutching at his nose, but i grabbed him by the back of his collar and dragged him upright.

“look at me,” i snarled. when he didn’t respond fast enough, i struck him again—this time, his cheek split under my knuckles.

his eyes fluttered open, dazed and wet with blood.

“this city doesn’t forgive,” i hissed. “and neither do i.” another punch drove him to the ground. this time, he didn’t try to get back up.

i stood over him, breathing hard, knuckles throbbing beneath the fabric of my tie. the air in the room was heavy with copper and sweat. my hands reach down, looping his neck into the snag of my tie and mimicking the wrap of my one hand to the other.

he attempts to wrestle out of my grip but I pull tight, my knee bending against his spine to hold him still until he chokes himself limp. I drop his body onto the ground with an echoed thud, and glance toward the corner, where sevika leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“get him out of my sight,” i muttered, unwinding the bloodied tie from my hands.

sevika didn’t hesitate. she strode forward, her heavy boots echoing against the concrete, and hauled the man by his underarms.

as the door groaned open, i turned back to the table, picking up the glass. the slam of the door, followed by the brief thump of sevikas boots, didn’t faze me.

the whiskey burned on the way down, a welcome fire in my chest.

“trust,” i murmured, setting the glass down with a deliberate click, “is earned. and broken trust��” i glanced at the blood spattered across the floor, then turn to the table of chem-baron observers, their face washed with fear, “must be punished.”

—

every day. the same time.

there’s a singular clarity in the moment the needle pierces my eye. that sharp, fleeting agony, and then the shimmer seeps in—dulling the constant sting, just for a moment.

i let the metal drop onto the desk with a hollow clink, my hand instinctively clutching my throbbing eye. the agony fades, slowly giving way to peace. my vision steadies as i lean back into the leather chair, breathing through the lingering discomfort.

since vander’s death, the lanes have shifted. their loyalty, their fear—it all belongs to me now. whether it’s out of hope or terror, i couldn’t care less. the shadow i once lived under is gone, buried six feet deep alongside my fears.

betrayal no longer feels like a threat; it’s simply another tool in my arsenal. invincibility, that’s what i feel now. i’ve earned their respect, torn it from their hands with my own.

vander. the so-called hound of the underground.

i know what they say, that we turned on each other. that we tried to kill one another. and they’re right. but the difference between us? i finished the job.

and jinx. poor, broken jinx.

i’ve built a home for her, one where people respect her, fear her. she’s everything i once wished i could have been. everything i’ve become. no one will take that from me again. no one.

a knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.

it swings open, and sevika strides in, dragging jinx by the fabric of her sleeve. sevika looks worn, frayed at the edges in a way that only someone living through this city’s rot can.

jinx, by contrast, looks pleased. smug, even.

“she’s been busy,” sevika says, her tone clipped.

jinx pulls free from her grasp with a laugh, tossing something small and metallic onto my desk. “you’re welcome,” she says, a grin spreading across her face.

i glance down at the object. a detonator.

“and this is?”

“proof,” jinx replies, leaning casually against the edge of the desk. “proof that they’re listening. they’re always listening. but not anymore.”

sevika crosses her arms, watching jinx with equal parts annoyance and begrudging respect. i can see the irritation etched in her face, the frustration of having to corral someone so chaotic. but even she can’t deny the results.

“a factory in piltover,” sevika says, “a big one. or it was. until she got creative.”

jinx’s eyes flash with pride as she waits for my reaction.

i pick up the detonator, turning it over in my hands. small, simple. effective.

“you made sure there were no witnesses?” i ask, keeping my voice calm, measured.

jinx tilts her head, her grin unwavering. “witnesses don’t talk when they’re ash.”

there’s a flicker of something in her gaze, a mixture of glee and defiance. it’s a dangerous balance, one i know all too well.

i set the detonator down and meet her eyes. “good. but don’t get careless. even ash leaves traces.”

her grin falters for a moment, but she nods.

“that’s all,” i say, dismissing sevika with a wave of my hand.

she hesitates, glancing between me and jinx before stepping out of the room.

jinx lingers, fidgeting with one of the many trinkets she always seems to have on her.

“you’re proud of me,” she says, not quite a question, not quite a statement.

i don’t answer immediately. instead, i study her, the girl who’s both my greatest weapon and my greatest risk.

“you did well,” i say finally.

her grin returns, wider this time, as she skips out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her, and for a moment, the silence returns.

i lean back in my chair, fingers brushing the edge of the detonator. the weight of it feels heavier than it should.

she’s everything i’ve worked for. everything i’ve fought to protect.

but there’s a fire in her, wild and untamed. and fires, when left unchecked, can burn everything down.

—

shimmer production has tripled in the past two months. tooth and nail, people claw for it—scavenging like rats for a reprieve from this hell. it’s their escape. their hope. and one day, they won’t need it. one day, i won’t need it.

the chemists stand before me, faces tight with forced calm. pride and unease flicker across their expressions like shadows in a dying light. i tolerate their pride; their unease, i cultivate.

“production is ahead of schedule,” one of them stammers, a wiry man with shaking hands, no doubt sampling his own supply. “we’ve optimized the process, cut down on waste—"

“waste?” i cut in, my voice even, cold. the word hangs heavy, seeping into the air like poison. “there’s no such thing as waste when it comes to shimmer. every ounce has its purpose, even if you don’t see it.”

he nods quickly, looking to the others for reassurance, but none meet his gaze.

“good,” i continue, leaning back in my chair, fingers steepled beneath my chin. “because the moment you lose sight of its purpose, you become a liability. and liabilities…” i trail off, the silence finishing the thought for me.

the air thickens, heavy with unsaid truths.

a woman with sharp eyes and a steady voice steps forward. “we’ve also improved distribution. piltover’s docks are more secure than ever. fewer enforcer sweeps, higher yield.”

i allow the faintest ghost of a smile. “you’ve exceeded my expectations. for now.”

relief flashes briefly in their eyes, but i don’t let them linger in the illusion of comfort.

“double the output,” i say, standing. the words strike like a hammer. “if any of you think that’s impossible, you’re free to walk out that door and never come back. but if you stay—know this: failure is not an option. not for you. not for me. zaun’s future depends on shimmer. on us.”

they don’t move. their silence is answer enough.

i turn to leave but pause at the door. “singed, stay.”

the head chemist inclines his head, his expression unreadable behind the veil of his mask.

the others file out quickly, their footsteps fading down the corridor. the room feels larger in the silence that follows, the hum of equipment filling the void.

“what is it, silco?” singed’s voice is calm, clinical, but there’s an edge beneath it—a sharpness honed by years of working in the shadows.

i study him for a moment, the man who has built the foundation of shimmer with his own hands. the man who understands its potential—and its dangers—better than anyone.

“are they lying to me?” i ask, my voice low, measured.

singed tilts his head slightly, considering. “no. production is ahead of schedule. they’re more capable than you give them credit for.”

“capable doesn’t mean loyal.”

his silence is telling.

i step closer, the faint glow of the shimmer vials on the shelves casting eerie patterns across the room. “you’ve seen what happens when ambition outweighs caution. the first misstep, the first failure—it spreads like a disease. i won’t allow it.”

“you’re not here to talk about failure,” singed says, his tone cutting through the tension like a scalpel.

he’s right. i never am.

“the formula,” i say. “you’re still refining it.”

“always,” he replies, his gaze unwavering.

“then tell me why the latest batch was weaker. why it didn’t last.”

he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate. “a miscalculation. one of the newer chemists—”

“your chemist,” i interrupt.

“—corrected it,” he finishes smoothly. “the next batch will be stronger. more stable.”

“stability isn’t enough,” i say, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “we need more than that. shimmer has to be... undeniable. addictive. it’s the lifeblood of the lanes now, but piltover’s rats will want their taste soon enough. when they come sniffing, it has to consume them.”

“addiction is already part of its design,” he says.

“make it stronger.”

singed regards me carefully, his sharp mind calculating. “there’s risk in pushing it too far. the human body has limits.”

“then they’ll adapt,” i snap. “this isn’t about limits. it’s about control. shimmer isn’t just a drug. it’s power. and power doesn’t settle for moderation.”

he doesn’t argue, but his silence feels heavier than words.

“you can do it,” i say, more softly now.

“of course,” he replies, almost to himself.

i nod, satisfied, and turn to leave. but before i step through the door, i glance back.

“you understand what’s at stake, singed. for all of us.”

his mask hides his expression, but his voice is steady. “always.”

the door shuts behind me, the faint hum of his machines following me down the corridor.

the door creaked as i nudged it open, the dim light from the hallway slicing through the shadows in her room. she was on the floor again, surrounded by her endless creations, scraps of metal, wires, and tools scattered like an unspoken language only she understood.

“jinx,” i said, stepping inside, the weight of the day still heavy on my shoulders.

she didn’t look up, her fingers busy rewiring some contraption that sparked faintly in her grasp.

“what?” she muttered, her voice sharp but distracted.

i ignored her tone, crouching beside her. “it’s late. you should be in bed.”

“so should you,” she shot back, her eyes flicking up briefly before returning to the mess in her hands. “but you’re not.”

a faint smile tugged at the corner of my lips, but it didn’t last. “i’m not the one who needs sleep.”

her hands paused for a second, the spark dying with a faint click. “neither am i,” she said, almost too softly to hear.

i reached out, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. the gesture felt awkward, unnatural, but her hair was a wild tangle, and something about it made me want to fix just one thing in this chaos.

she flinched, her eyes darting to my hand.

“what happened?” she asked, her gaze narrowing on the knuckles of my right hand, faintly bruised beneath the skin.

i drew it back quickly, wrapping my fingers into a loose fist. the tie had been enough to shield the worst of it, but not enough to fool her.

“nothing you need to worry about,” i said, standing before she could pry further.

“it’s something, though,” she pressed, her voice carrying a stubborn edge.

i sighed, dragging a hand through my hair. “some things are better left unsaid. go to bed, jinx.”

she frowned but didn’t argue, climbing into the bed shoved into the far corner of the room.

“you’re always like this,” she mumbled, pulling the blanket up to her chin.

“like what?”

“hiding stuff. thinking i can’t handle it.”

i hesitated, my hand on the doorframe.

“it’s not about handling it,” i said quietly, not turning to look at her. “it’s about not needing to.”

she didn’t respond, the faint hum of her breathing slowing as she drifted into sleep.

i lingered for a moment longer, the bruises on my hand aching with a dull throb.

then i turned, shutting the door softly behind me.

—

her head lifts, and our eyes meet. tears shimmer, barely restrained, her expression stripped bare. then, without warning, she leans into me, her arms circling my shoulders.

the embrace steals my breath. for a moment, i’m motionless, unprepared for her closeness. her warmth. her trust. but instinct—or desperation—pushes me to hold her, my arms locking around her as though she’s the last solid thing in a crumbling world.

her voice trembles against my chest, muffled but piercing. “you can disappear again after this, silco. i just… i just need this one moment. just this one.”

the words carve into me, sharp and unforgiving. she expects me to vanish—assumes i’ll leave her again. maybe she’s right. maybe i’ve given her every reason to think so. but i can’t bring myself to confirm her fears.

“i’m not going anywhere,” i rasp, the words rough in my throat. “not tonight.”

she shifts, her arms loosening, her posture tilting ever so slightly away. the subtle distance between us claws at me, quiet but unbearable.

i reach for her hand, my fingers brushing hers. “stay with me,” i whisper, voice soft but urgent.

her gaze snaps to mine, a storm of emotions swirling in her eyes—longing, pain, doubt. “i can’t,” she breathes. the words slice me open. “my family… they need me. they’d never forgive me. for…”

she doesn’t finish, but i know.

“for being with me,” i finish bitterly, the truth a weight in my chest. her silence is answer enough.

“i’ll leave it all,” i say, leaning closer, my voice shaking now. “zaun, the fighting, the power—if it means keeping you, mercy, i’ll walk away.”

she flinches as if struck, her expression hardening—a shield against my desperation. “that’s the problem, silco,” she says, trembling. “you destroy everything. i can’t be part of that.”

her words are a knife. they twist and dig deeper than anything else could. my breath catches, a sharp pain spreading through my chest.

“i need you,” i say, barely more than a whisper. vulnerability seeps into my voice, raw and desperate. “now more than ever.”

she tilts her head, her wide, tearful eyes locking on mine. “i know,” she says softly, her voice breaking.

but something shifts. her expression twists—hurt, agony—and her breathing quickens.

and suddenly, i’m not beside her anymore.

i’m a crowd away.

the rain comes first, cold and unrelenting. it soaks me to the bone as voices rise around me, muffled, chaotic. vander’s voice cuts through, sharp and thunderous.

“you stood by and did nothing!” his rage shakes the air, reverberating in my chest.

her eyes—so full of panic—find mine through the crowd. she tries to stay calm, but the cracks show. fear bleeds through. a forced reassurance to vander. a pleading glance at me.

i scream his name. “vander! stop!” my voice feels distant, swallowed by the rain.

pain explodes behind my left eye, sharp and blinding. blood drips down, hot and sticky. my vision blurs, his figure mutating above me. a knife glints in the dim light. his scream. her scream.

did she scream? did she cry?

i don’t know.

“please,” i beg, my voice raw. “please, vander…”

cold water rushes into my mouth, my lungs. over and over, i’m drowning.

“you’re the one she chose,” vander’s voice growls, echoing in the darkness. “and you killed her.”

“i know!” i scream back, my voice hoarse. but i’m not in the water anymore.

i’m in the crowd.

bodies shove past me, faceless shadows rushing for the door. i fight against them, desperate to push through. to reach her. to see her one last time.

“rebellion is a disease,” a voice rasps in the distance, cold and clinical. “and like any disease, it must be eradicated.”

the words repeat. over and over, the tone flat and merciless.

rain. water. blood. it floods my head, suffocating me.

i shake from the cold, gripping my head in my hands. my knees buckle. the world blurs, fractures—

a shot rings,

and then i’m awake.

cold sweat drenches me, the taste of iron lingering in my mouth. my chest heaves, breaths coming fast and shallow as i sit upright, trembling.

i’m not in the crowd. or the bar. or the water.

i’m home.

but the fear doesn’t leave. my hands won’t stop shaking.

and her voice lingers, haunting the edges of my mind.

her scream won’t stop. it clings to me, a shadow that gnaws at the edges of my sanity. my hands shake, tremors coursing through them as if they belong to someone else. weak. pathetic. i press my palms to my thighs, forcing them still, but the shaking only intensifies.

the room feels too close, like the walls are pressing in. every breath is a struggle, dragging through my throat as though i’m drowning all over again.

move.

i swing my legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor. the sharp chill bites, grounding me just enough to push myself upright. my legs wobble beneath me. weakness again. my own body betraying me.

my fingers find the glass of water on the bedside table, but my grip falters. the glass wavers, spilling over my lips and down my chin. i slam it back onto the table, harder than i mean to, the sound sharp and accusing in the silence.

useless.

the bathroom door creaks open under my hand. inside, the stark light overhead sears into my skull. it’s too bright, too real, but i force myself forward.

my reflection waits for me in the mirror. i almost don’t want to look, but i do.

what stares back at me isn’t a man. it’s a hollow thing, eaten away from the inside. the scars around my eye are raw, angry, as if it remembers too. but it’s the eyes—my eye—that’s the worst.

wide, bloodshot. terrified.

pathetic.

i lean forward, gripping the edges of the sink so hard my knuckles ache. the cold porcelain bites into my palms, a dull, grounding ache.

the faucet squeals as i turn it, water rushing out in a steady stream. i plunge my hands beneath it, the cold biting and sharp.

then i bring it to my face.

the icy shock hits like a slap. i gasp, the chill cutting through the fog in my mind. again, and again, until the cold is all i feel.

but even as the water drips from my face, pooling in the sink, her voice is still there. her scream. her eyes.

weak.

my grip tightens on the sink, nails biting into the porcelain.

i grab the towel from the rack, dragging it over my face. the roughness scratches against my skin, grounding me just enough to stand. but when i lower the towel, my reflection catches my eye again.

this is what she saw.

a man too weak to hold his ground. too blind to see the end coming. too desperate to keep her close and too reckless to protect her when it mattered most.

i turn the faucet off, the silence roaring in my ears.

for a long moment, i just stand there, staring at the droplets of water trailing down the sink.

this is what failure looks like.

the bathroom light goes dark as i flick the switch, plunging the room into shadow again. but the darkness feels heavier, weighted with all the things i couldn’t do.

i don’t go back to bed. i can’t.

instead, i stand in the doorway, staring at the empty room, the cold pressing into my skin.

this is what weakness costs.

i turn to leave. fresh air may do me some good, though it’s dense and polluted, anywhere is better than here.

—

the cigarette burns in my hand, the ember lighting a dim path ahead of me. my steps feel automatic, one after the other, leading nowhere in particular.

the air is thick—stale and sour with the grime of the city—but it’s better than the suffocating weight of that room. i don’t know where i’m going. i don’t care. every step is meant to drown out the roar in my head, to dull the echoes of her voice, her eyes, her screams.

when i pass the brothel, i don’t stop. i’ve walked this path before, countless times, and the whistles, the calls—they barely register anymore. they’re just part of the noise.

but then i see her.

it’s the hair that catches me first. long, soft waves the color of rich chestnut, tumbling down her back. and then she turns.

hazel eyes, warm and sharp, cut through the haze of smoke and shadow.

my breath catches.

it’s not her. i know that. it can’t be her. but for one maddening moment, the ache in my chest dulls, replaced by something sharp and dangerous. hope.

she waves me closer, her movements slow and deliberate, her lips curling into a practiced smile. her clothing clings to her curves, worn to seduce, to draw in the desperate and the lonely.

and i am both.

my feet hesitate, caught in the pull of her gaze. she isn’t mercy. i know that. but something in the way she looks at me—something about her—makes it easy to forget, just for a moment.

i could walk away. i should walk away.

but i don’t.

instead, i move toward her, each step heavy with shame and need.

her smile widens as i draw near, her voice low and smooth. "you look like you could use a distraction."

the words hang in the air, sweet and simple, but they’re not what i hear. not really. i hear something that doesn’t exist—her voice, soft and unguarded, breaking through the chaos in my mind.

i nod, the gesture automatic, my body moving before my thoughts catch up.

she turns, leading me inside, her steps light and confident. the sway of her hips, the soft curve of her silhouette, the way her hair catches the dim glow of the undercity—all of it feels like a cruel imitation, a shallow echo of something i can’t name.

the hallway is narrow, the light flickering above like it could die at any moment. the scent of perfume lingers in the air, cloying and heavy.

she opens a door, gestures me inside, and i step through without hesitation. the room is small, the bed unmade, the walls covered in peeling paint.

she closes the door behind us, her movements fluid, rehearsed. her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, i falter.

this is wrong.

but wrong feels like the only thing left.

her hands touch my chest, and i exhale, my breath ragged.

"you alright?" her voice is soft, her eyes searching mine.

for a moment, the lines blur. the edges of reality and memory smudge together. her voice becomes mercy’s. her touch becomes hers.

and i let it.

i fucking let it.

—

her nails pierced into my back, reddening and worsening as I picked up the pace. her head fell back in pleasure with a whine as I adjusted her hips against mine.

i would be lying if i claimed it wasn’t good. in truth, it was exquisite—a fleeting reprieve that bordered on intoxicating, however undeserved. the air lingered in the stench of sex, a real and suffocating haze. my forehead began to bead of sweat, exhaustion brewing within from an ever growing lack of sleep.

i was chasing something. someone.

her words clogged in her throat while her fingers threaded through my hair with a deliberate slowness as though testing the fragile boundary between comfort and intrusion. the sensation was grounding, almost maddening in its intimacy, her touch lingering like a whisper against the chaos of my thoughts. a groan fell from my lips. the sight of her lidded eyes and parted lips resonated deep inside me.

the thing about whores is, they don't tell you when they're close. they're payed not to. but I wanted to hear it.

I needed to hear it.

she was pressed so close to me that it felt as though the boundaries between us had dissolved, intertwining in a way that made the moment feel almost surreal. the warmth of her body against mine, the rhythm of her breath, the rolling of her hips slipping me in deeper. it doesn't feel real.

her eyes lock with mine, a fleeting moment of recognition that feels both grounding and distant. but as quickly as they meet, they dissolve into a shimmer with an intensity that borders on overwhelming, a haunting blend with a quiet, devastating clarity that threatens to unravel everything i’ve tried to bury. her moans become lighter, breathier, as she reaches her climax.

all I see is mercy.

i can’t do this.

i lower my head, pressing into the hollow where her neck meets her shoulder, her skin warm and inviting against mine. but the moment feels fragile, hollow—its promise fleeting. i withdraw, slipping out of her heat, the absence already gnawing at the edges of my resolve.

hovering above her, i catch the faint crease of concern in her expression. she says nothing, but her eyes linger, questioning.

i push myself away from the bed, the faint chill of the air a stark contrast to the warmth i’m leaving behind. no explanation escapes my lips. words would be redundant here—pointless. instead, i turn my attention to the scattered remnants of my clothing, gathering them with sharp, purposeful movements.

she shifts onto her side, her form unashamedly languid, the curve of her hips a calculated display. “what’s the matter, mister?” she asks, her smile coy, though there’s an edge to her voice that betrays genuine curiosity.

i remain silent, focused on my task. the weight in my chest tightens, an unwelcome reminder of why i allowed myself here in the first place.

my trousers come second, tugged on hastily over my boxers, the buttons left neglected. my shirt follows—a half-hearted attempt at decency as i fasten only the middle few buttons.

“you don’t strike me as the shy sort,” she muses, rolling onto her stomach. her legs sway lazily, an air of amusement in her movements.

i retrieve the coins from my vest pocket, the weight of them cold in my hand. they clink against the surface of the nightstand as i drop them, a more than adequate amount for what this exchange has cost.

“my apologies for wasting your time.” i say, my tone measured yet distant.

she offers a soft laugh, indifferent yet biting in its dismissal. “you were a good fuck while it lasted. shame you’re leaving so soon.” her gaze lingers, assessing, but i meet it briefly before returning to the task of straightening my cuffs.

she stretches, unbothered by my detachment. “when you’re ready for another round, come find me. i’d love to see the look on your face again when you finish.”

her words strike at my composure like a careless blade. i offer no reply.

she rises as i step toward the door, her movements fluid and deliberate. before i can cross the threshold, she leans in, pressing a kiss to my cheek—a fleeting gesture, calculated, but not without warmth.

“goodbye, mystery man,” she murmurs, her voice trailing after me as i pull the door closed behind me.

the hallway is dim, the flickering lights casting fractured shadows along the walls. the air feels heavy, stagnant—a mix of cheap perfume and sweat clinging to the narrow corridor.

i descend the steps quickly, each one a deliberate motion, as if putting distance between us could somehow quiet the dissonance in my mind.

but the streets outside are no better. the damp, acrid air of the undercity greets me, laced with the stench of rot and neglect. the muted buzz of life surrounds me—voices rising and falling, bartering, arguing, laughing—but it all fades into a muffled hum.

i light a cigarette, the ember flaring briefly as the smoke fills my lungs. each inhale feels like a reprieve, albeit a fleeting one.

i came here tonight seeking distraction, a momentary escape. instead, her voice is louder now, as though this futile attempt to forget has only sharpened its edges.

mercy.

the name claws at me.

the memory unfurls against my will—her eyes, wide and fierce, the faint tremble of her lips as she smiled through grief she never allowed herself to show.

and then the way her body fell, limp and lifeless, as her breath fled her.

the cigarette burns down to the filter, heat grazing my fingertips. i drop it to the ground, grinding the ember underfoot.

the streets blur around me as i move, my steps steady but aimless.

the city stretches endlessly ahead, its filth and desperation a reflection of my own inadequacies. no matter how far i go, i can’t escape her. and as i disappear into the shadows, the only certainty is that i’ll keep walking until they swallow me entirely.

—

i move through the halls, slow and deliberate, like i’m carrying the weight of a thousand promises. every piece of this house, every choice i’ve made, it’s all for her.

i reach her door and pause for a second, a breath caught in my chest. the room is dim, lit by the soft flicker of a lamp on her bedside table. the walls are covered in her mess—scribbles in pink and blue, wild and untamed, much like her mind. i’ve never minded it. it’s hers. it’s what she needs.

i stand there in the doorway, watching her sleep. she’s curled up under her blanket, clutching that old stuffed animal like it’s the only thing left in the world that makes sense. she looks peaceful, but i know better. peace doesn’t last for long. not for her. not for me.

i move quietly, sitting beside her bed, careful not to wake her. i study her face—those soft features that still carry the innocence of the girl she once was. it’s hard to believe sometimes, when i look at her, that she’s been through all she has.

“jinx,” i whisper, my voice barely a sound in the stillness. “i’ll keep you safe. always. no one will ever hurt you again.”

my fingers move to brush her hair, gentle like i’m afraid i’ll break something if i touch her too hard. it’s a softness i don’t show often, but for her, i can. “you don’t have to be afraid anymore. not here. not with me.”

the promise is heavy in my chest, more real than anything i’ve ever made. i can’t fail her. i won’t. she’s all i have left, all that matters now.

“you’re mine now, jinx,” i murmur, the words feeling strange on my tongue but true all the same. “and i’ll never let anyone take you from me.”

i sit there for a while, watching her, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing. there’s something calming about it. in her sleep, she’s still my reason for all this. i could lose everything else, but i can’t lose her.

“sleep well, little one,” i say softly, just a breath in the dark before i stand. i take one last look at her, the girl who has become more than just a broken piece of the past.

and as i walk away, i let myself believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, i’ll be enough to protect her from the world that has already taken so much from both of us.

—

three years future

the office reeks of smoke, the heavy air lit by the dim orange glow of the stained-glass window. i lean over the desk, shuffling through reports, though my attention falters with every passing minute.

the door creaks open behind me.

“what is it, sevika?” i say without looking up.

she steps inside, the sound of her boots sharp against the floor. there’s an unusual weight to her movements, hesitation that’s unlike her.

“you’re going to want to hear this,” she says, her voice low, steady but strained.

i straighten, finally turning to face her. “then speak.”

“vi’s alive.”

the words hit like a fist to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs. i blink, once, twice, the name lingering in the quiet.

“alive,” i echo, disbelief threading through my voice.

sevika nods, her face grim. “spotted her in the lanes with two others—a young enforcer and a woman.”

i move around the desk, closing the distance between us. “you’re certain it’s her?”

“i saw her myself,” she says, her tone heavy. “same hair, same fists. she’s older, rougher, but it’s vi.”

for a moment, the room feels smaller, the air thinner. vi. the girl i’d thought long gone, another chapter buried beneath years of power plays and battles.

“and the others?” i ask, grounding myself in the present.

“the enforcer’s sticking close to her,” sevika says, her voice thick with disdain. “a piltie, young, armed, and not shy about showing it. and the woman...” she hesitates, her brows knitting. “she’s... hard to read. moves like she knows the lanes, but no one recognizes her.”

“so, they’re making themselves known,” i say, my tone sharpening.

“they’re asking questions,” she says. “about shimmer. about you. and they’re not subtle.”

i step back, pacing to the window. the city stretches below me, a restless sea of flickering lights and shifting shadows.

“send out the men,” i say after a moment. “i want them found.”

“and when they are?” sevika asks, though there’s no mistaking the answer in my tone.

“kill them,” i say coldly.

there’s a pause. sevika doesn’t move. when i glance at her, her face is tight, unsettled.

“it’s vi,” she says, the words quiet but pointed.

“and it doesn’t matter,” i reply, my voice firm. “not anymore.”

she stares at me for a moment longer, then nods and turns toward the door.

just before she leaves, she stops. “jinx doesn’t know, does she?”

the name pulls at something buried deep, but i shove it down.

“no,” i say. “and she won’t.”

sevika nods again, lingering only a second before leaving.

the door clicks shut behind her, and i’m alone once more. my fingers curl into fists, the silence in the room amplifying the steady drum of my heartbeat.

vi alive. the thought churns in my mind, unease settling like a stone in my gut.

and the woman. who is she? what does she want?

questions for another time. for now, the only answer is power. and i won’t let them take what i’ve built.

—

the apartment is modest, the kind of place where every creak of the floorboards tells a story. i step over the threshold, surveying the small living room cluttered with toys. it smells faintly of soup left on the stove too long. my men follow, silent shadows, positioning themselves near the walls like they belong there.

a little girl, all fiery red hair and wide, curious eyes, stares up at me from the floor where she’s building a shaky tower of blocks.

“hello there,” i say smoothly, crouching to her level. she eyes me, wary but intrigued, clutching one of the blocks to her chest.

“what’s your name?” i ask.

she hesitates, then mumbles, “wren.”

“wren,” i repeat, tasting the name on my tongue. “a lovely name for such a clever girl. do you mind if i join you?”

she glances at the door as if seeking permission, but her father isn’t home. with a small nod, she gestures to the blocks, and i take a seat on the floor beside her.

we work in silence, her small hands deftly stacking the pieces as i place mine deliberately, carefully. her gaze flickers to the scar on my face, but she doesn’t ask. children rarely do.

the sound of hurried footsteps echoes down the hallway outside, and then the door bursts open.

“wren!”

marcus freezes in the doorway, his face pale as he takes in the scene before him: his daughter sitting calmly beside me, my men looming behind us.

“ah, about time daddy joined us,” i say, not bothering to rise. “you were so busy, little wren here saw me in.”

“let’s talk outside,” marcus says, his voice tight, his eyes darting nervously between me and the men.

i pick up another block, balancing it precariously atop the tower. “can’t you see we’re playing?” i say without looking up. “you remember our old friend vi, don’t you? vander’s daughter?”

marcus shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn’t answer.

“she was about your age,” i continue, my voice soft, conversational. “her father went on a long trip, and daddy here assured me that she left with him. but it seems she never made it. isn’t that sad?” i glance at wren, who looks up at me with innocent confusion. “could you imagine being separated from your father?”

marcus’s jaw tightens. “she’s in a safe place,” he says finally.

i place another block on the tower, my hand steady. “she’s in the lanes,” i say evenly.

“that’s not possible,” marcus snaps.

“oh, but it is,” i reply. “and she’s not alone. there’s an enforcer with her—a girl, roughly the same age. apparently, there’s a woman with them too.”

his face pales further. “caitlyn,” he mutters. “she’s a kiramman. just like them. she does whatever she wants. i can’t control her.”

i set the last block down, the tower teetering but still standing. “then of what use are you?”

marcus’s shoulders slump, and he stammers, “i’ll track her down. i can fix this. please.”

i rise slowly, smoothing out my coat. “everyone makes mistakes, marcus. what’s important is that we don’t repeat them.” i take a step toward him, lowering my voice. “my people are tracking vi and this caitlyn. they cannot be allowed to resurface. do we understand each other?”

he nods stiffly, his face drawn with fear.

satisfied, i turn back to wren, who watches me with wide eyes. i crouch down again, reaching for the tower we built. with a flick of my wrist, it topples over, blocks scattering across the floor.

wren gasps, her little hands clutching the hem of her dress.

“oops,” i say with a chuckle, glancing back at marcus, whose face is etched with barely concealed terror. “accidents happen.”

without another word, i rise and motion to my men. as we leave, i hear wren’s small voice behind me.

“daddy?”

the door clicks shut, and the night air greets us, cold and quiet.

we step into the streets, the uneven cobblestones slick with grime and rain. my men flank me, silent as always, their boots echoing faintly in the oppressive quiet of the lanes. the shadows stretch long, twisting and curling like smoke, and the dim light of flickering street lamps does little to banish the darkness.

my mind lingers on marcus’s face, the fear there, the tremble in his voice as he pleaded. i’ve seen it a hundred times, maybe more. but it still never quite satisfies, never fills the space left hollow by the years.

i glance sideways, catching movement ahead—a figure walking toward us. the air catches in my throat.

her stride is slow, deliberate, her head down, as if trying to avoid notice. but even in the dim light, i can see her. the same sharp cheekbones, the curve of her jaw, the way her dark hair falls to frame her face.

i stop dead in my tracks.

my men falter, confused, but i barely notice them.

it can’t be.

it isn’t.

she’s gone.

my fingers twitch at my sides as the figure draws closer. when she passes, the faint scent of oil and lavender clings to the air. i know it well.

too well.

the figure pulls up her hood as she nears, obscuring her face, and dips into a narrow alley without looking back. i turn to watch, my eyes glued to her retreating form, the way her shoulders hunch against the cold, the way she seems to melt into the shadows.

“boss?” sevika’s voice is low, hesitant.

i don’t answer.

she’s gone.

i know she’s gone.

and yet... everywhere i look, i see her.

i take a step toward the alley, then stop myself. my breath fogs in the air, heavy and uneven.

“just a trick of the mind,” i mutter under my breath, though the words feel hollow.

my hands curl into fists as i turn sharply, brushing past sevika and the others without another word. the mission is clear. vi, caitlyn, the woman with them—they’re the priority.

but the image of that face lingers, burned into my mind. a ghost. nothing more.

and yet, as i walk on, i can’t shake the feeling that the shadows are watching me.

-

taglist:

@lilyreira @we-are-here-as-well @ml8126

[argisthebulwark]

Cleanse Me With Pleasure

summary: second chance! you've known them and lost them, but fate brings you back together. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used feat: Miraak, Hadvar, Vilkas warnings: very mild body horror (miraak has too many pupils), depiction of overstimulation (vilkas)

Miraak

He was your first love, the one meant to outlast all else. He became the one who shattered your heart. Your shared power as Dovahkiin should have brought you closer - your fates as the First and Last intrinsically twined together, though Miraak seemed intent on severing it. His refusal to share power turned to distrust, a fracture your relationship never recovered from.

He became obsessed. Blinded by his need to rule over Tamriel, you found yourself growing apart until you could hold onto him no longer. Miraak forgot all else when he became lost to his hunt for power, casting aside love and humanity as he lusted after forbidden knowledge. He forgot about you, his fellow Dragonborn. His beloved.

As the ages have passed, you now find yourself unfulfilled. You’ve seen much of the world in your time, taken fleeting lovers and leaving few traces. The dragon blood in your veins keeps you stationary while the world shifts around you, able to inflict little change upon the matters of men. Civilizations develop and empires crumble before your eyes as you search for the place you belong. No matter how much you love this world you still seek the place that feels like home.

After many years spent unsuccessfully settling into a small village you decide to leave Skyrim. At least for a short while. Too many eyes are on you after your influential part in the civil war. You need somewhere quiet. Hoping for the comfort of an old friend or a Telvanni tower your eyes turn to Solstheim. It’s been far too long since you’ve walked its shores, perhaps clarity awaits there.

Your wish for peace is unfulfilled as always. Rumors of locals wandering off into the ashen wastes reach your ears in every tavern. Just one night, you promise yourself when you fall into a cheap rented bed. Just one night of rest and I will investigate in the morning. 

A voice you’d forgotten ages ago invades your dreams. His mantra shocks you to your core - he was behind those horrid stones? Scrambling for your pack you set off into the night fueled by anger, old and long forgotten. You don’t care how powerful he’s become in your time apart - it matters little if he’s finally ascended to godhood, you’re going to give him an earful. 

Sharp spikes and dark towers loom over the horizon - his palace. The elegant arches are beginning to crumble with no sign of repair. Perhaps all of his loyal subjects are too busy tending to those awful stones, minds stolen away by Mora’s influence. Stomping through his castle you’re horrified by the years of dust and grime accumulating on every surface. Much like yourself, it seems that this palace has spent ages stuck in a time the world has forgotten. 

Upon a spiraling staircase, the railing is surprisingly clean. Tracks of fingers trail through the dust and a shiver runs down your spine. Weak light flickers from above and you steady yourself for whoever lurks in this ancient place. It may be a sign of life but you cannot decipher whether that is a good thing.  

You should have known. The only visible light emanates from the heart of Miraak’s palace - his library. Tomes written in dead languages give way to the common tongue, each shelf meticulously cleaned. Your footsteps are careful, though you can do little to calm the erratic racing of your heart as you wind through his maze. 

A dark cloak is draped over hunched shoulders. His quill scrapes over the parchment without pause. Blazing light from the fireplace illuminates his silhouette and for a moment it’s far too easy to forget about how everything ended - the fighting, the screaming, and that uncrossable distance that grew between you. When Miraak’s head tilts you catch sight of stubble across his jaw, the once black hair now peppered with gray and white. There is the sharp angle of his nose and lips that had once spilled nothing but admissions of love. For one moment he is the man your heart still screams for. 

“You must be brave if you dare to enter.” His deep voice rumbles through the library and you’re shocked back to reality. Deep green eyes sweep toward you, pinning you in place as too many pupils assess your interruption. “Remove your hood and state your business.” 

“What have you done?” Miraak’s fingers clutch the edge of his desk, revealing sickly black veins creeping under pale skin. His eyes narrow and in a dramatic flourish he stalks toward you. Old rage builds with each step that draws him closer; that sneer on his face, the condescension in his tone, the terrible way that power has warped him. 

“How dare you speak to me like this?” He seethes, teeth practically bared when he glares you down. Standing only inches away you can feel it, the terribly oily power infecting the rest of Solstheim. It is like nothing you can recall dealing with. Attempting to move swiftly you remove your hood, brandishing a reliable dagger between your bodies to hold him off. 

Something you cannot read shifts in his eyes. He blinks too many times before one hand reaches past your weapon. You consider slicing into his arm, calculating how likely it is that Miraak could cast some horrible spell upon you when cool skin cups your cheek. 

“Darling.” Your heart squeezes when Miraak draws you closer, completely ignoring the blade pressed to his chest. “My love, where have you been?” 

“I left.” Your voice is harsh, cutting through the strange softness of his tone. You cling to the rage that fueled you to find him, grasping for something to keep you upright when his thumbs trace so lovingly across your cheeks. 

“I have searched this world for you.” 

“What?” You sputter, taking a step back. Your heart slams into your ribs when he looks at you, such adoration in eyes you have not seen in centuries. “You let me go. You forgot me.” 

“I was wrong.” Bravely, he attempts to move closer. “I cannot do this without you - I do not work without you, my love.” 

“I do not wish to rule.” Your voice quivers and you steady the dagger. Miraak makes no move away from you, still carefully holding your face. “I have never wished to rule.”

“Tell me what you want.” 

“I have told you.” You insist, obnoxious tears pricking at your eyes. It’s terribly hard to remain angry when he’s so close. “You never listen.”

“Tell me once more.” Miraak gulps, unnatural eyes never moving from yours. “Please, just once more.” 

“I want,” your voice falters as you consider your options. Rationally, you should drive the dagger into his chest and free the world from his influence. You should kill Miraak while he is distracted. You should end him before he does further damage to this world. 

But you cannot. Sweaty fingers clench around the blade but your muscles have turned to stone. He may be different, hell he may be awful, but you cannot bring yourself to kill him. He is still Miraak. Your blade stills over his heart, the only one that has called out to yours. Despite the inky black stains these are his hands, the ones you’ve imagined each time you’ve taken a lover. 

“I want you.” Fat tears coat your cheeks when you relent, speaking the words that have been a thorn in your side for too many years. Old desires wash away the anger, each night spent missing him fresh and new in your memory. You remember speaking the same words during your last argument with him, one final plea for him. “I want to find somewhere quiet and grow old with you.” 

“I am sorry that it has taken me so many years to agree. I am yours, entirely, if you will have me.” Miraak’s nose brushes yours and through your bleary vision, you see him. His vision is no longer clouded with obsession, eyes focused entirely on you. Something wrenches deep in your chest and time seems to grind to a halt. 

It is all you’ve ever wanted from him. There is fear in Miraak’s eyes while he awaits your response though he makes no offensive moves - he’s left himself open if you decide to strike. There is no defense, no shield to hold you off. Miraak has made himself vulnerable to you. 

Joy and grief and all other emotions swirl together as your blade clatters to the ground. Desperate hands dig into the back of your cloak and you feel his sigh of relief against your chest, unheard promises whispered into your skin. 

Hadvar

Training. Guard rotations. Research assignments. Reconnaissance. Palace guard duty. Shift changes. Too many responsibilities and not enough time, yet for so long you managed to cling together. There was never time for anything more than falling into bed together, a shared cot and the comfort of one another. 

Schedules shifted every few weeks, never amounting to much more than a change in when you're afforded time to sleep. Without bothering to open the envelope for your new assignment you’d hobbled back toward the barracks, muscles aching from a day stuck near the city gate.

A sharp bark of your name stopped you short. A harsh explanation that you were heading off to some newly established camp in the Rift. No time to change or grab your supplies, they’ll have clothes waiting for you at the new camp. Your heart was in your throat when your commanding officer bundled you into the back of some carriage and sent you to another Hold without a chance to tell Hadvar. 

In the shuffle of everything, you lost each other. No letters could be sent as you had no idea where he’d been stationed or who his superior became after the new assignments. Though your nights were lonely, over time you accepted that he’d simply slipped through your fingers. 

Leaving the army was a difficult but necessary choice. That strange power seemed to grow with each day that passed yet you had no clue what it was. Something terrifying was happening inside you and you snuck away from your camp, deserting in search of answers. 

Your many attempts to diagnose whatever lay inside you remained unanswered. It felt like some sort of serpent, often dormant and rarely flickering into life. Presently, you find yourself glaring into the horizon and regretting that shitty mug of ale. Falkreath has yielded no answers and although you’ve tried to avoid Skyrim, the College of Winterhold may be your last resort. 

It all happens so fast. The clanging of armor and harsh shouts ringing through the forest. Dozens of blades are pointed in your direction and before you can think your hands are cuffed, pack ripped from your back and you’re shoved into a cart of fellow prisoners. 

The ride is quite short but one man insists on chatting, drawing the attention of the soldiers. Imperial soldiers. Your stomach turns sour as you rush to come up with a story - it’s been years since you deserted, no one will recognize you. You can claim to be a hunter. The forest has enough elk to make the weapons in your pack plausible. 

Staring straight down at the tips of your boots, you avoid acknowledging what is happening only a few yards away. The pleading words, the blade cutting through the air, the sickening thump. You shuffle through the line of prisoners intending to recite your half baked story, steadying yourself when you finally look up. 

“And who are,” Hadvar pauses, still staring down at his parchment. Your heart stops when he finally looks up, face bright red as recognition lights his expression. “You?”

You’re fucked. 

“I’m a hunter.” You lie as another guard ushers you toward the block. “I was looking for elk. Just a trader.” 

“Yeah.” The guard snorts, guiding you to kneel. “I’ve heard that one before.” 

There is nothing more to say, no words that will change their minds. Dew coats your knees and you can feel Hadvar staring at you, blue eyes sharp and mouth still parted with questions. You try to take comfort in the clear skies and calm breeze. If you are destined to die today, there is something nice about knowing that the last thing you see will be Hadvar. 

“Dragon!”

Your world is a blur of fire and smoke. The executioner’s blade thumps to the ground, mere seconds from taking your head. Rough hands drag you to your feet and you stumble along, unsure if you’re alive. On all sides Helgen is burning, shrieks of the dragon blend with screams of humans into one horrible sound that drowns all else out. 

Time slows to a crawl when Hadvar wheels toward you, soot staining his features as steady hands check you for injuries. For one brief moment the world is quiet, Helgen’s Keep miraculously still upright. 

“Are you alright?” All you can manage is a nod. Hadvar passes you a sword and plants his helmet on your head, instructing you to stay close. Falling into line with him is too easy - ducking when you feel his muscles flex to swing his sword, backs pressed together as you cut through Stormcloaks and spiders. 

The road is quiet, its usual sense of peace only heightening your nerves. Acrid smoke clings to your nostrils and burns sting at your skin but you continue walking, unsure of the destination. Hadvar’s steps are sure through the small village, explaining the situation with only a hint of the panic still lacing your veins. You anticipate questions he does not ask, explanations cluttering your mind but he doesn't breathe a word of your desertion.

His family is wary but welcoming. They don’t ask questions when you refuse to part, sides glued together as you recount your stories. You feel their curious eyes as Hadvar leads you downstairs to where you’ll be staying. He doesn’t pause before unbuckling his armor and falling into the sole bed, one arm open in silent invitation.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” Hadvar murmurs, allowing you to curl into his chest. You can hear the racing of his heart as one arm rests around you, perfectly aligning with all those memories. He’s warm and still smells like fire but you block it out, focusing on nothing more than Hadvar’s hands combing through the mess of your hair. “I’ve lost you so many times, I don’t know if I can let you go again.” 

Vilkas

Although Whiterun would always be your home, somewhere deep down you’d long harbored a distaste for how crowded it was. Too many sounds and smells, elbows jostling you and siblings to keep track of. Food sizzling and water gurgling from the nearby fountain, it all turned into one overwhelming wave of sensations. High walls kept out the breeze and often you found your skin felt too tight, ears ringing as you ran off toward one of the abandoned watch towers. 

From far below you heard the delighted shrieks of your younger siblings as they frolicked through the market. Your head pounded although the breeze cooled your overheated skin, lessening the sensory terror of the crowd. 

“Mind if I sit?” Your eyes shot open and you saw a boy no older than yourself standing on the final step to your hideout. “My brother’s down there but it’s - well, it’s too loud.” 

“Sure.” You agreed, scrunching your legs closer to make room. He didn’t say a word, merely plopped down and began reading the book he’d tucked under his arm. His presence was nice, silent and uncaring as you unwound. A breeze whistled through old shudders carrying a welcome chill. 

“I should get back to my brother, he’ll start to worry.” He carefully placed a bookmark before standing. “My name is Vilkas.” He only introduced himself upon parting.

Your friendship was easy. Afternoons spent in comfortable silence, tidbits of information swapped once your ears stopped ringing. Vilkas’s way of speaking was refreshing; his tone was always even and getting right to the point. You never had to puzzle through the hidden meaning of what he said not did he push past your limits.

There was no way to know one meeting would be the last. Vilkas was recalled to Jorrvaskr and sent on some mission by his superiors and your mother was being shipped off to Solitude to serve the Jarl. Between packing up your entire life in a few chests and wrangling all of your siblings there was simply no time to find Vilkas, you never got a chance to say goodbye. 

Now, the title of Dragonborn grows hefty. You’ve carried it for years but it never seems to get easier - there are constantly people asking for favors or wanting to hear stories you’ve told dozens of times. Although many years have passed you often find yourself wanting to regress to that child that hid away in abandoned guard towers, wishing you could simply curl up in some corner and let the world forget you for a while.

Too many eyes are always on you, watching your every move and telling tales of your heroism. Taverns herald your arrival, merchants offer special deals for your presence, fighters either want to duel or be in your employ. It seems that quiet is simply not in the cards for you. 

Trekking across the plains, the buzz of conversation finally ceases. Most civilians aren’t motivated enough to follow you out of their walled city. You walk until your legs are numb and collapse, back pressed to Whiterun’s massive wall as you stare out across the heavens. There's no telling how much time passes - elk skip over the hillsides and shadows grow longer yet you remain, unsure if you are ready to face the bustling city once more.

“You alright?” 

There's no hiding your groan at the interruption. A gruff voice breaks through the quiet of nature, ruining the ruffling of wind through tall grass. Biting back whatever truth threatens to spill from your tongue you turn to the offender, intending to ask for a bit of time alone when you pause. 

His brown eyes have hardened, now lined with the telltale signs of many sleepless nights. Dark hair has grown out over the years and stubble lines a strong jaw, hands that once carefully balanced books now perched precariously on the hilt of his greatsword. Relief washes away all the annoyance as he silently eases to sit at your side, eyes cast out over the plains. 

“You look different.” You dare to observe, a nervous smile breaking out at his snort of laughter. 

“You’ve been gone for quite a while.” 

Everything is so easy with him. Conversation comes and goes in waves, hours spent catching each other up on your lives lapsing into a comfortable silence. As the sun dips below the horizon and Whiterun’s plains are ablaze in deep shades of orange and pink the tightness in your chest lessens, noise from of the city quieting as its inhabitants seek shelter in homes and taverns. You remain there with Vilkas for far too long, both relieved to reconnect with the one person who understands their need for quiet. 

[bipolarman2022]

Amir: Santiago, you have followed my words for months, you have felt our truth resonate within you. I know you have struggled with doubts, with the ghosts of your former life, but the time has come to leave all that behind. You cannot continue with one foot in the past and one in the future. To embrace who you truly are, to join us, you must leave your world.

Santiago: Amir, everything you say fills me with clarity, but leaving my life behind… my family, my culture… is not easy. How can I give up everything I have always been?

Amir: The life you have led so far has served you, Santiago, but it no longer defines you. Look how far you have come following the teachings of “The One.” The past is a shadow, a reflection of what you were. What you are now, what you can be, you will only discover if you dare to take the full step. There are no half measures anymore. To be reborn, you must let go of the old, cut the ties that bind you to that previous life.

Santiago: And what awaits me on this new path, Amir? You say that I must follow you, that I must belong to this brotherhood, but how will I know if I am worthy of that future?

Amir: It is not about being worthy, Santiago. It is about being willing. Being willing to trust, to give yourself completely, to let me guide you. The brotherhood will welcome you as one of its own, but only if you let go of any doubt, any ties. We do not carry the weight of the past, we look forward, to a future where we all walk under the same faith, the same light. You have to give yourself completely, without reservation.

Santiago: And if I do, if I give up my life, what really awaits me? What does this new beginning promise?

Amir: I promise you freedom, Santiago. Not the superficial freedom that you know, but the real one. You will be free from everything that has limited you. Free from fear, free from the chains of the past. In our brotherhood, we are all equal, we all serve “The One,” and under that faith, you will find purpose, strength, and peace. But most of all, you will be part of something bigger than yourself. This is your chance to transcend, to leave a mark that matters.

Santiago: Everything you say sounds like the truth I have always sought… I am ready, Amir. I am ready to leave my life behind, to follow you as my leader. Guide me to that new beginning.

Amir: So, Santiago, from this moment on, you no longer belong to your past. You now belong to our brotherhood, and together we will walk towards a new future. Don’t look back. The world we left no longer exists for you. Go ahead, brother, our destiny awaits us.

[llondonfog]

If you're still taking prompts, could you do a Halloween Event AU where the Knight of the Dawn's ghost appears before Silver to take back his "son." Lilia shows up just in time to see the specter before it drags Silver to the Underworld.

the way ur request hit me like a truck after the new update drop....... i've been toying with the idea of henrik having some kind of control over the knight's soul even in death to bend him to his will, and now that he learns of the knight's child surviving? and with such an interesting, exploitable magic that could offer them a way to break free from the spectral realm and command the dreams of men? oh. well, he simply has to give his eternally bound soldier a new mission. with that in mind, this is a more hallloween/horror au set after the events of this update— mal has been beaten back to his senses, everyone has woken up, lilia has put his plans to leave on pause, but silver is still grappling with the heavy truths he's learned....

the man in the mirror is kind, and that makes everything worse.

he leans in, presses up against the glass in a silent rustle of armor and silks as if his hands might cross over to the other side this time, and asks as he's asked every morning in a voice that rivals the low croon of a mourning dove—

did you sleep well, my son?

my son. my son.

the very title is the reason for the boy's haunted expression, his clouded eyes, the trembling pull of his lip. he has not slept for the past several nights, this the man in the mirror knows, and yet he asks the question without fail and with such sincerity as if he might soothe the shadows that bruise and deepen beneath the boy's gaze, as if he was not the one to put them there.

ah, but that's not entirely fair now, is it?

he did not install this bleeding, aching chasm inside of his child's heart, his is not the name that lingers on the back of his child's throat, choked and stifled under tears as he languishes under unseen night terrors and monstrous shame of guilt. he is not who his child wants, but he will help to teach his child that he can be all that he needs, if he would simply reach out and take his hand. he can ease away the pain, he can learn to hold him close— has he not been denied this for nearly four hundred years? did he not love his child too, once upon a time?

and perhaps he did. but the bindings in death are even stronger than those in life, and henrik's greedy, twisted claim upon the loyalty of his soul has persisted and thrived in the depths of the spectral realm, festering like a weed and rotting away at the clarity of his mind. where once he would have fought to protect his child among the land of the living, he now is blinded, driven by a tainted desire to see him here, safe and sound, among the dead where he belongs. where he should have never been taken from their side, where he can be protected and loved for all of time.

it is easy to whisper such promises when he believes in them, to offer a balm to his child's broken heart. look at what the fae have done to him, look at how they've ruined him so— a prince trained to die, a boy blessed to be love now cursed to question his own worth. if his child does not wish to continue living this painful, miserable lie, then why must he linger and suffer? why, when he could simply reach out and take his father's hand, sink into such sweet, pleasant dreams where the torments of his past could never reach him, not when he has his true father guarding him ever faithfully by his side—

when the door slams open, it is too late.

he smiles, the weight of his child's hand warm and living, full of strength within his own. and to the sweet sound of the fae's anguished screaming, he pulls his son through the mirror, through the glass, and into his father's arms to sleep in peace, forever.

[thelampisaflashlight]

What The Garden Grows

[A short drabble wherein Dew speaks with a strange woman in the woods.] Below the cut.

She sets the mug down in front of the man, placing it so the handle faces away from him, and Dew has to fight the urge to adjust it.

He stares at the golden ring around the rim of the mug instead, admiring the delicate shine.

The cup she holds is simpler.

Off white with a single, thin, tan line wrapped around the body.

It reminds him of the sort of dishware you'd find at a twenty-four hour diner where the waitress' name is Pam and she calls you "Hun" in an endearingly rough smoker's voice, in fact...

"My grandmother liked to take souvenirs back from the restaurants she visited." she explains, answering his unasked question.

"Sticky fingers?" he chuckles.

"Like a bird sitting in pine sap."

Dew gives a small smile before picking up his mug and sipping his coffee.

"You have questions." she says, pulling her chair out, the old wood creaking as she makes herself comfortable, "Ask."

Without hesitation, "Who are you?"

"I'm Bea." she replies, "Beatrix Milne, and so you don't have to ask, I'm a gardener."

"At the abbey?" he states, seeking clarity, and the woman nods, "How come I've never seen you before?"

"How often do you come out this far?"

"Touché." he swirls his coffee a little, watching the little bit of unmixed cream make trails, "I suppose you know Mountain then?"

"We've worked together before, yes." she confirms, "...I would consider him a friend... a good friend."

Dew hums, gesturing to the building itself, "What is this place?"

"I think the official name is 'The Cottage'... It's part of an old homestead that belonged to a fellow named Lars a very, very long time ago."

"Mountain's old house then." Dew looks around at the woodwork, ancient, but still standing tall, "He told me about this place a long time ago... Just never knew where it was."

"Then you know the story."

A pause as Dew traces his finger around the rim of his cup.

"...I do."

"You're trying to understand why he did it, aren't you?" Bea guesses, and Dew runs a hand through his hair.

"I know why he did it, I just don't know how." he says, "Do you?"

Bea slides him a plate of pastries, homemade, and Dew carefully takes a bite of one.

Apple.

"Everyone here has secrets, child of Bothynus." she smiles, "Sometimes it is better to live without knowing."

"Ignorance is bliss then, is it?"

"So it seems."

Dew looks at the flecks of thin bread upon his fingers, "...What are you?"

Bea breaks one of the pastries in half, dunking it in her coffee, "Human."

"You're a very odd human." Dew remarks, "Is that an American thing?"

She laughs, "Maybe. Who can say?"

"Why did you come here, Bea?" Dew asks after a moment, "What called you to this place?"

"Family." she says, "A promise."

"You have family here?"

"Not anymore, not in the physical sense at least."

"I was worried for a moment," he whispers, "that you might be one of the old bastard's secret children."

Bea takes a small bite of her treat, "Perhaps, perhaps not. I don't know who my father is, but I doubt he was anyone important."

"And your mother?"

"Troubled in life, hopefully at peace in death." she folds her hands upon the tabletop, "You can relate."

Dew sits back in his chair, "See, that's what makes me wonder if you really are human. You know too much."

"I could know more." she offers her hands to him, and he finds himself setting his own upon her palms, "What do you want to see?"

"You already know."

"You have to say it." she tells him gently.

"...I want to see Aether." he admits.

"I make no promises." she says, locking eyes with him.

"I expect none."

"Let us gaze into the deep then, together, shall we?"

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

portal points

it doesn't matter how I craft the map

or try to compose the direction I'm meant to take

I run my fingertips over the places where we met

I pause and let memories take me by the hand

my eyes close and I let myself dream and feel

whatever it is they want to show me

what lesson have I learned from the situation

how painful it was between confusion and clarity

what peace I found in the beauty of our connection

what emotions did you inspire within me?

how did they sink into my body?

my heart is strong but she's still so shy

sometimes I fall back into the pattern where I think

everything I say or do is a burden or trouble

you heal in layers and that feeling has the most

the cardinal in my juniper bush sings me awake

when I collapse back onto my bed like a gothic heroine

in the sunny afternoon he returns to remind me he's there

it's the scarlet bird that represents this kingdom

and he does what he can to remind me I belong

as I surrender back to a reality I understand now

you only treated me like that so I could feel

what you felt when everyone told you

something about the way you wore your skin

somehow meant you weren't part of the world

your only crime was to be born into

we shared that same heartbreak since children

and I'm so sorry I somehow made you feel it again

I wonder if you ever lose the feeling of being an exile

it does have the benefit of hiding in plain sight

you become a mirror that people either

love you for reflecting their energy back to them

or hate you for exposing them as they are

it's not quite the same as being seen but it works

at least you exist as long as you play the part

everyone wants to get their hands on beautiful things

not everyone wants to protect or value them

imagine me taking those old maps I drew

rolling them up and giving them directly to the fire

I wouldn't smile as they burned but I would

watch paper turn to smoke and ash intently

I wouldn't let go until the flames nipped my fingers

I'm releasing the hurt of everything I've known

I will no longer store it in this body

I'm releasing the destructive hopes that keep me

waiting for an outcome I'll likely never see

nor do I even know if I want it

and I know I gave it enough time

like a flower I will bloom and open my arms to the world

and see where that gets me

[faithfullyfound]

The Power of the Lord

God will use anyone, and I mean anyone to spread His message. I often wonder why God allowed me to find Him, allowed me to accept Him, I often wonder why I am so blessed to belong to this kingdom.

But then I fear that by following Him I am missing out on the world. I fear I'm missing out on experiences that I will never be able to have if I continue walking in faith.

But this is so ridiculously stupid. Sure I might miss out on parties, drinking, etc. but that is nothing compared to the light, joy, and patience God's goodness and grace give me. I also remember what my life looked like when I was a lukewarm Christian. I practiced witchcraft (convincing myself that this was ok), I affirmed sin, I was depressed, I was anxious, but most notably I was so confused. I questioned my existence and if I even mattered. I felt confused in my own body and I did not truly care about myself.

But after I found God, and truly grew with Jesus I felt loved, and accepted. I still struggle with anxiety and intrusive thoughts at times but I am NOT CONFUSED. I have eyes to see the evil present in our world. I have eyes to see TRUE CHRISTIANITY and most notably I have a tongue to proclaim that Jesus is Lord, and He's my Savior. Not only has He saved me from my inevitable death but He's saved me from dying right now. Every time I sin I am digging my own grave but Jesus picks me up when I stumble and He truly loves me.

It is so hard for me to listen to the Lord's voice because I fear I am becoming a "crazy Christian" someone who is doing too much and could potentially push people away from the Gospel. But at the end of the day, I need to remember that my hope is found in Jesus. He is my Savior no one else.

For Luke 14:33 ESV says, "So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple." We are called to give everything up. I will be very transparent and say there are habits, shows, and friendships that I haven't given up to the Lord. But I pray that through the power of conviction in the Holy Spirit the Lord leads me and anyone else reading this to live a life where we can renounce everything for our Lord.

Isaiah 42:16-19 CSB says, "I will lead the blind by a way they did not know; I will turn darkness to light in front of them and fought places into level ground. This is what I will do for them, and I will not abandon them." If the creator of the universe can do this much for me I can give up my fears and worries to Him.

For while my flesh has led me astray and gives me doubt and death and destruction. Following God gives me peace and clarity which I value more than any happiness that things of the world have given me. I remember praying for people to like me, my crushes to be my Valentine, etc. and then feeling betrayed by God when that did not happen. But God sees the bigger picture and He's looking out for me. I do not need to know God's exact plans for me I just need to trust in Him. Even amid my struggles, temptations, etc. I will trust in Him.

*Also side-note but I literally was wondering how to get closer to God and I wanted to feel His presence so I opened my Bible just randomly and turned to Isaiah 42 which in my bible is titled The Servants Mission & A Song of Praise, which both perfectly told me who I am in Christ. Trust me Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit are always with you.

[thegirlmaxine]

I know this is going to be weird, being instructed on something by a kid, but bear with me. Meditation is great. It's relaxing and fun. It may help with some mental disorders like anxiety and depression for example, but that's not my main point here. I want to give advice on doing it as a recreational activity.

First step is figuring out whether you want to clear your mind, focus on something, or just increase awareness of something. Generally, I think you should only do the latter in a calm state of mind so you don't spiral from following a negative thought. Clearing your mind: This one I recommend trying to think of nothing. That doesn't mean to not think of anything, I mean to try to imagine and conceptualize nothing. Whether that is a void, something incredibly small, some deity or something you worship; try to focus on that unknowable thing. Don't block other thoughts, let them flow or float past, not latching onto them, but not pushing them away either. Let them fall into that void. You may eventually find the noise in your head quieting. That is what this method is good for, peace, clarity, a general sense of wellbeing. Focusing on something: This is a bit more like a flow or trance state; find a relatively comfortable activity, this can be solitaire, knitting, it could be more intense like osu or a shoot em up game, just something you like that is a one track activity. Try to remove distractions, silence your phone, clear your area beforehand, try to remove anything that could shift your attention away from your chosen activity. Try to get everything set up so once you start, you don't have to stop. Then try to focus all your thought and attention on the activity. You will hopefully start to go into a flow state and become completely involved in the activity. Hopefully that should also bring a sense of wellbeing as well.

Increasing awareness/introspection: Again, you probably should only do this in a good state of mind to avoid spiraling. You can do this one on a walk or looking around you. Pick something or someone to focus on and pay attention to in-depth, not as a feature of the world, but as something important in a way. Like how with moving to a new school or house everything has a sort of "new to me" sheen on it. Wipe that away from the world around you. Those cars aren't on rails, they are someone's belonging; they are part of someone's life. That loaf of bread was once part of someone's job. None of these things are new to the world. You could also look at a scripture or text whether from your own faith or another, and try to understand how it got to you in its current state. It has passed through the hands of humankind for who knows how long, devote some time to tracing it back through time; feeling out the minutiae of its origins and interpretations. Maybe it could actually be a rope or cable passing through a needle and not a camel doing so. Try to make sense and see all points of view. Feel the hands of those before you in the writings. Find the will or voice of whatever deity or force you feel may be behind it. Think outside the self. This practice can also increase a sense of wellbeing, belonging, and understanding of what is important to you.

This is not meant to be an authoritative guide, just my own advice from my own experience with meditation. Take what works for you and leave what doesn't. In the end, you are more of an authority in your experiences than I can ever be. I am providing this to hopefully help others find the same enjoyment in meditation I find in it.

[changingplumbob]

Pancakes Household: Chapter 8, Part 2

In this part Fergus' sleepover continues then Eliza tells Bob about her pregnancy decision. It's a quick Freezer Bunny day and Iggy and Carson catch up after their scout meeting. Contains some sim spice, as usual no pixel private parts are shown.

For clarity Bob's nickname for Eliza is Jumble, and Eliza's nickname for Bob is Sleek. I'll try to capitalise them when they're being used as names to make any translations easier.

Eliza: Kids! Come eat! Bob left waffles

Drake: Sweet

Fergus: Did Atlas just disappear

Eliza: He left, he’s not coming back

Fergus: OMW mother what did you do

Eliza: Nothing! He was coughing and his mum rang and said she tested positive for Llamaflu and thought he should get home and rest just in case

Kelly: I hope he infected us all, it’s what I would do

Iggy: Fergus why are your friends so weird

Drake: I’m sure your friends are more weird

Ginger: *whines* just drop a corner, come on, give me a taste of waffle

Iggy: Kelly? Weren’t you just here

Kelly: It’s called a sleepover and if it goes well the watcher will count it as one of needed three gold sleepovers

Iggy: I’m not sure that’s how the watcher works

Kelly: How would you know? Had a conversation with them have you

Iggy: Just about how annoying you are

Eliza: Ginger? Where are you?

Ginger: *barks happily* 🎵trash, oh glorious TRASH🎶

Eliza: Ginger did you come outside?

Ginger: *barks happily* 🎶Trash I love you, oh trash I do🎵

Eliza: GINGER! We do NOT play in trash! Are you a common stray? No, you are meant to be domesticated. Get your paws OUT

Ginger whines sadly, learning not to play in the trash.

Eliza: There there, it’s okay. You’re still the best girl around here

Eliza: Lets go give you a bath before Bob decides you smell great in trash scents

Fergus: It’s called- mother, why are you here

Eliza: It is my house, I need good light

Fergus: But this is my sleepover

Eliza: Relax Fergus. I’m nearly done then I’ll leave you three in peace

Drake: Knew we should have done this at my house

Kelly: To bad you were to stupid to book this weekend first

The kids bicker and Eliza once again wonders how any of them call Kelly their friend.

Drake: I hope Atlas will be better for school

Fergus: The family always get their vaccinations, they’ll be fine

Kelly: Unless they all die

Drake: You don’t seriously think that

Kelly: Maybe they’re getting a visit from Grim right now, he’s going to get us all

Fergus: Oh yeah? Is Grim going to get Anya then?

Kelly: Obviously, Grim means business

Fergus: I forgot to tell you, I’ve joined the drama club

Drake: Why

Fergus: Just had a whim to try it

Kelly: Yeah I have whims to but they’re normally stuff like, make enemies

Drake: Do you actually have any enemies

Kelly: *sighs* it’s not for lack of trying, believe me

Fergus: Plus look at those two on the TV, they’re our age and they would have made money from this

Drake: Their parents probably forced them to do it

Kelly: Parents are the worst

Fergus: Make that all adults *titters* I’m an adult and you need to do what I say

Drake: If you don’t you’ll be sent straight to bed

Kelly: With no supper to wither and starve

The three wind themselves up with their impersonations and eventually have to give up on the film after missing what was even happening.

Fergus: Okay, story time! Come here Ginger, you can help

Drake: Why is your dog half inside your sleeping bag

Fergus: Dogs belong everywhere, don’t question it

Kelly: This better be scary

Fergus: Actually I’m going to tell the tale of a pirate

Drake cheers while Kelly boos. Fergus launches into his adventurous tale anyway. He has fun and the boys can see he’s practicing for drama club already.

We had some minor game glitches (by minor I mean it took between 1 and 2 hours of mod testing to find the culprit) so if there’s some continuity errors we will all just roll with it.

Bob arrives home happy. He had a stern critic come by the restaurant and rather than bore them with the house staple he decided to make them some comforting mac and cheese. He didn’t lose any job performance, so he calls in a vacation day for tomorrow. He sneaks inside past the sleeping kids and goes to find his wife.

Eliza: And that is why your only choice can be to invest in the company

Bob: I’m convinced

Eliza: You’re home, finally! Let’s get it on

Bob: Can we talk first

Eliza: Sure. What is it Sleek?

Bob: Have you thought about if we’re going to properly try for another pregnancy

Eliza: *sighs* I have thought about it

Bob: Do we have a verdict

Eliza: Lie back, get comfy, and listen

Bob climbs on the bed and Eliza begins to speak between kisses.

Eliza: I want another kid with you. I do. But I’m proud of what I’m achieving career wise right now. This next promotion will take a lot of work. If we get pregnant, then we get pregnant and I will love our child, but for now my focus needs to be on upskilling myself

Bob: I think you’re very skilled already

Eliza: *smirks* I can hardly use these skills in the boardroom. But I’ll make you a promise

Bob: I’m listening, I am a captive audience after all

Eliza: If we don’t get pregnant by the time Fergus is a teenager, we can start properly trying again. Will you be okay with that?

Bob: I can be. I love you. I want you to be happy

Eliza: Believe me Bob, right now you are making me very happy and… *chuckles* yes it feels like I’m making you happy to

The conversation draws to its natural conclusion, woohoo. The next day is Freezer Bunny Day and the slumber party kids wake up pretty early.

Eliza: Have you lot had breakfast already?

Fergus: Of course mother

Eliza: Are you alright Kelly? You don’t look too flash

Kelly: Bloody Atlas must have infected me before he left

Eliza: I think it’s time to head home then. You to Drake

Fergus: Mother what time is the holiday ceremony

Eliza: Not until 10, we have some time

Bob: I wanted waffles for breakfast

Eliza: You could always make some more

Bob: No point, I’m doomed to be sad

Eliza: Have some of this trout with me, you did a great job with it

Bob: Really?

Eliza: It’s excellent, I promise

The two eat and flirt some more before Eliza gets up to wash the dishes.

Eliza: I can feel you staring at my ass Sleek

Bob: But it’s such a fine ass

Eliza: I’m glad one of us appreciates this unshifting baby weight

Iggy enters the kitchen and Bob decides to pull Eliza aside to keep talking.

Bob: I’m sorry you’re unhappy with it, but I do love the curves

Eliza: I know you do, I just wished I loved them more. I mean looking at me, who would know I’m fit

Bob: Don’t worry about what other people think, to me you’re the most beautiful sim in the world. Remember what I told you last time you felt like this

Eliza: *sighs* That me being curvy was a sign of love? Love for the food you make and love for the lives I brought into this world

Bob: Exactly. You know I met this stunning girl in university who told me, weight doesn’t equal worth, and it helped me beyond measure

Eliza: She sounds like a catch

Bob: *chuckles* why do you think I married you before some other sim could. Now come on, or we’ll be late

After the Freezer Bunny Day ceremony Eliza goes to practice her skills and Bob searches for Ginger. She is very dirty so Bob decides the smartest thing to do is wait until after a jog to give her a bath.

Fergus: Did you check the couches

Iggy: Yes, I found a couple. Did you look in the laundry bins

Fergus: I don’t think the Freezer Bunny would put eggs in dirty laundry

Iggy: Yet you said we needed to check the toilets

Fergus: You’ve been pranked!

Iggy: How could it be a prank if I found an egg there

Fergus: *huffs* stupid Freezer Bunny

Bob: We did the jog, no more avoiding, it’s bath time

Ginger: *whimpers* but I don’t even know how I got dirty

Bob: I’m sorry. If it was up to me you could stay dirty forever. But we need to think of the others in the house, and they don’t enjoy dirty dog smell

Ginger: *whines* but I just had a bath yesterday, infants don’t even get bathed daily

Bob: Guess we’ll do this the hard way then

He scoops up Ginger and carries her to the bathroom, all the while she yaps in protest.

Bob: See, if we keep the harness on we can clean it at the same time. Eliza had to get me to stop showering with my clothes on, but it saved time so it was hard to convince me not to

Bob places Ginger down and she immediately begins flinging off all the loose water. Bob tries to avoid it but a puddle appears. He decides it will dry by itself. Carrying Ginger in to the lounge he sets her down and switches her into he collar.

Bob: There, clean and fashionable

Iggy brings Carson with him after scouts. Harvey is going to swing by for dinner and pick him up then. They do the secret scout handshake and reflect on the meeting.

Carson: I can’t believe you found that super rare badge

Iggy: I can’t believe they dropped it. I’m glad the troop leader knew who it belonged to though and was able to get it back to them

Carson: You definitely couldn’t have kept it, the leader would know you didn’t earn it

Harvey: I saw your wife tuning up the doorbell

Bob: I knew there was probably something I forgot to do

Harvey: Are you looking forward to your birthday tomorrow Iggy?

Iggy: Yes! Though it sucks Carson can’t age up at the same time

Carson: We are technically the same age after all. Promise me you’ll still come to my birthday party when I have it

Iggy: Absolutely!

Bob: Food everyone! Come and get it!

Iggy: It looks great dad. Mother are you... smoking?

Eliza: I’ll be fine. I just got electrocuted by the doorbell

Bob: Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should lie down? With soup!

Eliza: I’ll be fine Bob

Fergus: Wait… if both of you are Llamacorn scouts... why don’t you have matching uniforms?

Iggy: I don't have an answer (and neither does the watcher)

Previous Part ... Next Part

[thejournallo]

Dear journalist ,

Hi,I hope you are having a good day. As I approach a new milestone in my life—my 18th birthday this November—I find myself reflecting deeply on my aspirations and the future that lies ahead. It’s an exciting yet daunting time, and I feel it's the perfect moment to seek guidance and support in my journey of manifestation. 

Throughout my journey , I keep grappling with self-doubt, particularly when it comes to envisioning and manifesting my dreams. However, as I step into this new chapter , I am determined to focus my energy on what truly resonates with my heart. Here are a few aspirations I am longing to bring into my life: 

My Dream Career as a Mangaka: I have always been passionate about drawing and storytelling, and my ultimate dream is to create captivating manga that resonates with readers worldwide. I've envisioned moving to Japan and establishing my own company to share my stories, potentially even having my work go viral. I know this journey will be challenging, yet I’m eager to learn and grow. 

Finding Love: Love is a beautiful concept that I hold dear, and I dream of marrying my absolute favorite celebrity—though the irony is, no one knows what she looks like! This might seem like a grand ambition, but I firmly believe in the power of love and connection. I trust that, in time, our paths will intertwine in the most wonderful way. 

Owning My Dream Home: I envision a sanctuary that reflects my personality and dreams—somewhere I can create, feel at peace, and grow. It’s more than just a house; it’s a space where my heart can thrive. 

Building a Large Family: Finally, I dream of having a vibrant family filled with love, laughter, and support. I long for those shared moments and experiences that contribute to a rich family tapestry, creating lasting memories together. 

Given my challenges with self-doubt and the manifestation process, I would greatly appreciate any methods or tips you might have. I truly believe that with the right mindset and tools, I can attract these dreams into my life. If you have any insights, resources, or practices that have worked for you or others you know, I would love to hear about them. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this. 

Hi there!

First of all, I apologize profusely for the late reply. I did read your message when you first sent it, but I didn’t have a quiet moment to respond until now.

The beauty of all this is that you already know what you want. You can see it, you can feel it—it’s there, just waiting for the right time and mindset.

One thing I often suggest when people ask about overcoming self-doubt is to respond directly to those doubts. For example, if you find yourself thinking, “This will never happen for me,” or “My manifestation is stupid,” take a moment to stop and counter those thoughts. Tell yourself, “I believe this will happen for me at the right time, and I’m going to take steps to help it along. My manifestations aren’t stupid, and I should be proud of myself for trying to create something great.”

I did this a lot when I was struggling with self-doubt and insecurities, and over time, my mind learned that those feelings didn’t belong to me anymore.

Another thing I always recommend is writing. You can write about anything—what you want to manifest, how you imagine it, who you are now, and who you want to be in 10 years. You can write about your good and bad feelings, and you can even create a fake chat to respond to your doubting thoughts. Writing is a powerful tool, and it’s fascinating how much clarity it can bring once you put your thoughts on paper.

One piece of advice I really want to give you specifically is to re-read what you wrote to me. You already have everything sorted out. It seems like you just need a little nudge to continue on your manifestation journey, but in reality, you’re already well on your way. Manifesting doesn’t have to be complicated or involve a bunch of methods. It can be as simple as taking one small action that impacts your future.

For example, one day I said out loud that I wanted to learn about social media management, and boom—I found a whole course on it for free, just because I put it out there. Imagine what you could achieve with your mindset focused on the future. It’s going to be stunning and full of great things.

(Of course, don’t forget to live in the present too—that’s what makes life worth living.)

[cosmicroseflower]

God told me, you're not broken, you're not lost or hopeless. You are not behind or devolving. You are trying to survive in a world that was designed to set you up for failure and burnout. You're also very uncomfortable where you are at because you're healing, learning how to regulate your emotions, learning how to place healthy boundaries and you're evolving.

Does that sound like a lost person? That sounds like a person growing who's stressed trying to be perfect in crazy capitalist society only focused on the illusionary 3D simulation. Stress is just fear of something you believe will happen. Find the illusionary fear to remove the stress. If someone is pressuring you to have it all figured out they are projecting their own illusionary fears onto you. Don't listen to them if all you can do is rest, please rest. You receive so much more by resting than doing.

Letting go of control over your physical circumstances will open you up to all the help you deserve and need. Find your peace and clarity and blessings will find you. You are receiving so many upgrades and activations while you are sleeping. You are becoming so much more aligned to Source by involving your spirituality into every part of your life. By breathing and eating more consciously and feeling the way you want to feel. That will never require you to people please and do what everyone else wants and expects of you. Keep healing, keep having boundaries and keep evolving. You are doing enough. You are enough. You are enough as you are now and that is good enough for God, believe me it is.

You have nothing to prove to anyone and you have nothing to prove to God. Religion, society and family will project their outdated fears onto you saying you need to figure it all out right now but they are just following the crowd trying not to get left behind. Meanwhile unaware they are behind in their own evolution by following what everyone else is doing. You are enough as you are my love, say it every single day as you wake up and go to bed. " I am what I am and that is enough." Experiment with new things any chance you get but don't beat yourself if you're still healing from things that no one is holding space for you to talk about. You're not lost, you're stressed.

Find time today to breathe deeply any chance you get and let all that negative energy out that doesn't belong to you. Know you automatically are transmuting that energy you don't have to try so hard. You are moving in the right direction by being aware of all those things that don't feel good in your body and moving toward the things that do feel good in your body. That is how you know you are moving in the highest path for you. You will get inspired thoughts when your spirit team knows you are ready, so rest until you get those gentle nudges. No one wants more pain and suffering in their lives unless they love pain and challenges. You do not have to suffer to get to where you want or get what you want and ascend.

Suffering is not a virtue. Suffering is a side effect of transformation. You are being transformed into a diamond. Pressure forms diamonds. You do not have to experience poverty to ascend or be homeless or give up those things you really enjoy doing to ascend. Just don't resist your feelings and triggers when they come up. Catch them. Feel them. Accept them. Forgive them. Love them freely. Let them go. You need to feel joy to ascend. Ask yourself, "How can I be love in the face of this?" And that will help you ascend by leaps and bounds far greater and faster than someone pressuring you to do something you don't want to do and have no idea how to do right now. Just be, just relax, stop stressing, let go, feel joy and appreciate feel gratitude and feel love for no reason at all.