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“ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ” ᴅɪɢɪᴛᴀʟ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏꜱʜᴏᴘ

I can hear the sound of a heartbeat before it goes out Won′t ever leave my memory Where is my home? I don′t recognize the faces anymore

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"ʟɪɴɢᴇʀ" ʙʟᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ʀᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ʙʏ ♡ʙᴏᴏɢᴀʟᴏᴏ

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"ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ" ᴅɪɢɪᴛᴀʟ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏꜱʜᴏᴘ

I wish you the best for the rest of your life Because for you I was the love of your life But you were not mine

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TS2 storytelling was peak life sim.

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"The greatest battles are won in the smallest moments."

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"ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇᴅ" ᴅɪɢɪᴛᴀʟ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏꜱʜᴏᴘ

➢ ｍｕｓｉｃ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴜꜱ | ᴇᴘɪᴄ ᴏʀᴄʜᴇꜱᴛʀᴀʟ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ The sun dipped low over the rolling hills of Westfall, painting the horizon in hues of amber and violet. Vailyn sat on a weathered stone fence near the edge of the village, her chin resting on her knee. The fields stretched endlessly before her, the same view she had known all her life. Barren, unchanging, lifeless.

A soft rustle behind her broke the quiet, and she turned sharply. There he was, leaning casually against a weathered oak, his cloak playful in the breeze. She hadn’t heard his approach, but his presence seemed to fill the air, heavy with an almost tangible allure, as always.

“You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?” he asked, his voice light with amusement. His emerald eyes sparkled as though they held secrets meant only for her.

Vailyn frowned, unsure whether to be annoyed or intrigued. “Should I be?” she countered, trying to mask the flutter in her chest. No one had ever looked at her like he did, as if she were something rare and worth noticing.

He chuckled, a sound as rich as velvet. “Depends on who you ask.” With a slight bow, he extended his hand. “Walk with me?”

She hesitated. Dusk was fast approaching, and she knew better. But the way he stood, tall and confident, was magnetic. His dark hair gleamed in the fading light, and his smile promised answers to questions she didn’t yet know how to ask. And after all, the Kirin Tor were reputable people—some of Azeroth’s stalwart defenders. Against her better judgment, she slid off the fence and took his hand. His touch was warm and steady, a stark contrast to the chill in the evening air.

They walked along a narrow dirt path, the village fading behind them as they neared the border of Duskwood. “I never actually asked your name," she asked, glancing sideways at him.

“Names are funny things,” he replied, a smirk playing on his lips. “They bind us, don’t you think? But if you must call me something, you can call me Riven.”

“Riven,” she repeated, her heart skipping a beat again. “And what brings you to Westfall, time and again? There’s nothing here.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. The fading light cast shadows across his face, but his eyes burned bright, like embers in the dark. “Sometimes, in the most barren places, you find the rarest treasures.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, unable to hold his gaze. “You don’t really know me,” she said, her voice dropping to an embarrassed mumble.

“But I’ve started to,” he replied, stepping closer. His voice dropped, soft and insistent. “I see something in you, Vailyn. Something powerful. You don’t belong here, scrabbling in the dirt. You’re meant for more.”

The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. She felt a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration, as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff, the wind urging her to jump.

“And you can show me this?” she asked, her tone skeptical but her anticipation building as she looked back at him.

“I can,” he said, his smile widening. “But only if you trust me.”

The weight of the moment pressed against her. A thousand warnings flashed in her mind. But the pull of his words, his presence, was too strong. She thought of their stolen conversations, the rare glimpses of warmth in a life so often cold, noticed in a way no one else had ever bothered to. For once, someone was looking at her as if she mattered, as if she were more than a pitiful girl from a forgotten pig farm.

“Alright,” she said at last, the word barely audible. “I’ll come with you.”

“Good,” he said, his voice like silk. He offered his arm, and she took it, letting him guide her down the darkening path. The trees closed in around them, their branches arching overhead like grasping fingers.

As they disappeared into the woods, the smile on Riven’s face changed, a flicker of triumph in his eyes. Vailyn didn’t notice. She was too lost in the rush of mattering to someone, of feeling for the first time that the world beyond Westfall might hold something more.

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"ʀᴇᴄᴋᴏɴɪɴɢ" ᴅɪɢɪᴛᴀʟ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏꜱʜᴏᴘ

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"ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ" ʀᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ʙʏ ♡ʙᴏᴏɢᴀʟᴏᴏ ʙʟᴇɴᴅᴇʀ

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“ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀʟʟ” ᴅɪɢɪᴛᴀʟ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏꜱʜᴏᴘ

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“ꜱᴜᴄᴋᴇʀ” ᴅɪɢɪᴛᴀʟ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏꜱʜᴏᴘ

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"ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ" ᴅɪɢɪᴛᴀʟ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏꜱʜᴏᴘ

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"ɴᴏ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ" ᴅɪɢɪᴛᴀʟ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏꜱʜᴏᴘ

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Sims theme intensifies

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"ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ʟɪɢʜᴛ, ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ʙᴀʟᴀɴᴄᴇ" ᴅɪɢɪᴛᴀʟ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏꜱʜᴏᴘ

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ᴇᴅɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴀɪ-ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴍɪᴅᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏ, ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏꜱʜᴏᴘ