yammehog

The past does not sleep.
          
          It lingers in the quiet spaces, in the low hum of Mako reactors, in the glint of steel drawn under flickering lights. Once, there was camaraderie—late-night conversations beneath cold stars, the steady rhythm of boots on forgotten roads. Once, there was something like trust.
          
          But war does not make men. It unravels them.
          
          And now, standing in the dim glow of the materia’s pulse, she wonders if she is being unraveled too.
          
          Y/N stares at him—at the figure wreathed in shadow, silver strands catching the light like molten thread. His presence is vast, suffocating, yet she does not move. His voice is velvet over steel, smooth and sharp all at once.
          
          “Do not deny me.”
          
          She swallows hard, her breath catching in her throat. The firelight flickers in his eyes, or maybe it is something deeper, something ancient burning just beneath the surface.
          
          “Embrace me.”
          
          The words are not a plea. They are a command, a promise, a tether tightening around her ribs.
          
          And for one terrible, fleeting moment, she considers it.
          https://www.wattpad.com/1514884139?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=reading&wp_uname=yammehog

Hiiii
          How are youu
          It's been a long timee 

Reply with a setting, trope and genre and I’ll write it into a short story in the replies. Here’s an example: futuristic dystopian city (setting) where the protagonist is a reluctant hero (trope) who discovers they have the ability to manipulate time. (Group) Bts

"Infatuated?" Taehyung laughed incredulously. "This has nothing to do with infatuation. She opened my eyes to different perspectives, ones that challenge the narrow-mindedness I've seen in our families."
          
          "You're abandoning our traditions, our values," Imrelda accused vehemently. "And for what? Some girl who doesn't understand our world?"
          
          "She understands it better than you think," Taehyung retorted, his own frustration mounting. "Maybe if you tried to see beyond your prejudices, you'd understand why I value her opinion."
          
          Imrelda scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're deluding yourself, Taehyung. This isn't about her opinion—it's about you losing sight of who you are and where you come from."
          
           "So, all those times you were against her during our first year—it wasn't about Quidditch at all, was it? It was about me?"
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/371032273?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=yammehog

https://www.wattpad.com/1453874731?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=reading_part_end&wp_uname=yammehog

          Hi everyone,
          
          I hope you’re all doing well! I’ve been thinking a lot about my writing lately, and I’ve come to realize that I’m not entirely happy with my old writing style. Because of this, I’ve decided to revisit some of my older fics and give them a fresh rewrite.
          
          Your feedback and enjoyment mean the world to me, so I want to hear from you: Which of my older fics would you like to see rewritten? Your input will help me prioritize and ensure that I’m working on stories that you are most excited about.
          

In his right hand, Taehyung clutched an empty Pensieve vial, its glass cool and smooth against his skin. He turned it over and over in his fingers, the motion almost mechanical. He could no longer see the world around him, but he could feel the weight of his memories, the echoes of lost moments swirling in his mind. Each memory was a ghost, haunting him with the might-have-beens and the never-weres.
          
          The vial shattered with a sudden, sharp crack. Taehyung felt the jagged shards bite into his palm, the pain a brief, stark clarity in the fog of his thoughts.
          https://www.wattpad.com/1453874731?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=reading_part_end&wp_uname=yammehog

With a trembling breath, he forced himself to sit up. The world spun around him, the darkness pressing in from all sides, but he held on. He could feel the broken glass in his hand, the slickness of his own blood, and he used that pain to anchor himself, to pull himself back to reality.
          
          
          As he prepared to leave, a faint, humming noise reached his ears. It was a melody so delicate it seemed to blend with the rustling of leaves and the murmur of the lake. For a fleeting moment, Ominis thought he heard Y/n's voice, and he called out her name, his tone hopeful yet tinged with uncertainty.
          
          The humming ceased abruptly, replaced by the soft sound of footsteps approaching. "Ominis," a familiar voice called out, its timbre laced with curiosity. "You seem... off?"
          
          Imrelda's presence was as unmistakable as her voice.
          https://www.wattpad.com/1453733182?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=yammehog

Teaser of chapter two: The room buzzed with whispers. Ominis felt a chill run down his spine. Pensieve tears. He had never considered their use beyond their intended purpose of reliving memories. The thought that such a personal, intimate substance could be repurposed for power unsettled him somewhat.  For him they were a weakness, his drug of choice, a means to escape the present by immersing himself in the past. The allure of revisiting cherished moments, of reliving the highs and lows of his life, was intoxicating. Each memory, a fleeting escape from the harsh realities of the present, offering solace in their familiarity. But as he stirred the cauldron, the realization dawned on him that perhaps his dependence on these memories was more than just a habit—it was an addiction. And like any addiction, it held the power to consume him,
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/369753413?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=yammehog

 The Pensieve was empty, its promise shattered. Ominis stood motionless, staring at the now-void basin, the once shimmering memories dissipated into nothingness. His hands trembled, his breath uneven, as the weight of reality crashed over him.
          
          In a fit of frustration, he knocked the Pensieve over, sending a cascade of silvery liquid splashing across the ancient stone floor. The water, mingled with the remnants of his precious memories, spread in all directions, glistening momentarily before being absorbed into the cracks and crevices of the timeworn surface.
          
          His sanctuary, his one refuge from the relentless darkness that had consumed his life, lay ruined before him. 
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/369753413?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=yammehog