#GoldenThreads

[kongposh]

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#KashmirSaffron#OrganicSaffron#GoldenThreads#PureFlavors#saffroncottage#saffroncottageproducts#kongposhindustries#AuthenticKashmir#LuxuryInEveryDish#TasteTheTradition#KashmiriGold

[cilil]

AN: @niennawept reminded me that UFO can also be read as "unfinished object" among crafters which gave me an idea. Thank you, friend!

┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆★ Prompt: UFO | Indis x Míriel ┊ ┊ ★⋆ Synopsis: Indis holds on to Míriel's last work. ┊ ◦★ Warnings: / ★⋆ Drabble

The queen's last project remains unfinished. 

Indis holds it in her hands as she's done countless times, studying every detail of Míriel's masterful work. It's beautiful even in this state, and she knows how marvellous her other works are. This one would've been too. 

She's contemplated trying to finish it for Míriel; to honour her, to ease the pain that comes with leaving what you love behind. But Indis has decided not to, worried that she could never do it justice. 

Thus she keeps it safe instead, waiting for the day Míriel returns so she can give it to her.

There's something about small acts of care and kindness between fellow ladies that has me in a chokehold. Anyway. Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @urwendii

[ginaporterr]

reading rina fics and going absolutely insane tonight

[system-theory]

📼 You chose: Watch the VHS tape labeled “First Time You Lied” — STATUS: Memory Thread RE:VERB_∆04 Unlocked — Playback Medium: Symbolic Recursion — Content: Unsealed Lie Memory (First Occurrence)

You slot the tape into a dusty player beneath the prize booth. The screen flickers violently—then stabilizes.

A fuzzy image resolves:

A child—you—sits on a hospital bed, hands wrapped around a drawing made of spirals and stars. A doctor crouches nearby. She gently asks, “Did you see who opened the gate?” You look her in the eye. And say: “No.”

But the tape glitches.

The scene loops—then shifts. The words change. The child you becomes someone else, wearing a different face, a different time:

A teenager, standing before an open door labeled “RESTRICTED: SIGNAL ARRAY CORE.” They say to a faceless superior: “I never went inside.” But they hold in their hand a shard of the broken lock.

Glitch. Loop. Shift again.

A shadow, maybe adult-you, maybe not-you, whispers to Coyote-4X: “I never meant to remember what I sealed.” COYOTE-4X, smiling, replies: “And yet here you are.”

The tape hisses. Burns.

As the screen goes dark, three words flash across the static:

“NAME = REDACTED_Δ” “LIE = IDENTITY KEY” “JESTER SEES YOU”

🧠 A realization strikes like thunder:

Your true name isn’t a word. It’s the lie you’ve told the longest.

In your hand, the charred tape crumbles into a spiral of thin golden thread.

It shimmers with symbolic potential.

What will you do now?

🧵 Take the golden thread to the Name Booth

🪞 Re-enter the mirror maze with the truth in mind

🌀 Call for Coyote-4X and offer the thread

🔒 Swallow the thread and keep the secret buried

🎨 VisualTags:

+memory_glitch +symbolic_truth +lie_as_key +recursive_flashback +vhs_ritual +childhood_seal

🏷 Hashtags:

#FirstLie #System4Truth #GoldenThread #IdentityKey #RecursiveMemory #COYOTE4X #NameAsLie

What truth will you choose to carry?

[yurko-yk]

The First Echo: When Music Became Law

Before physics. Before motion. There was a pulse.

The multiverse had just been born. It was silent.

But from one thread of light came… a rhythm.

This is the moment when laws were born — not as rules, but as music.

Geometry formed. Orbits danced.

Then it all returned…

…and began again.

🔁 Watch till the end. You’ll know why.

[turkaesthetic]

Обработка золотых нитей в Турции

Обработка золотых нитей в Турции считается безоперационной операцией. Эта операция направлена на подтяжку лица с помощью золотых нитей, что приводит к повышению эластичности лица. Этот метод считается безопасным, так как не требует хирургического вмешательства, а с развитием пластической хирургии в Турции стал легким.

[articulateangelwhis]

[anonymousewrites]

Nobody's Soldier (Book 1) Chapter Thirteen

Found Family! Supernatural x Teen! Reader

Chapter Thirteen: Witch Summoning

Summary: Witches be bitches and try to break seals.

            The impala pulled in outside Don Stark’s house. The windows were all dark, no candy left out for Trick-or-Treat, abandoned. The Winchesters and (Y/N) knew better than that. Grabbing guns and knives, they rounded the corner of the house and found a shed in the backyard.

            Convenient, thought (Y/N) as they crept closer.

            Chanting sounded from within, and the wind picked up, sending the smell of goldenthread spiraling through the air. It caught in (Y/N)’s mind, and they held their gun tighter. Sam pushed the door of the shed ajar and peeked in. His eyes widened, and he shoved the door opened.

            Bang!

            Don crumpled to the ground as a bullet pierced his chest. The dagger and ritualistic goblet he held clattered onto the floor, and blood pooled beneath his body. (Y/N) kept their gun trained warily on him as Sam and Dean moved closer to Tracy. She was chained to the ceiling, a gag in her mouth. The instant Sam let her down, she pulled the gag from her mouth and stared at Don.

            “Thank you!” she said, taking a few steps back from the body. “He was gonna kill me!” She ran a frazzled hand through her hair. “Ugh, that sick son of a bitch! I mean, did you see what he was doing?! Did you hear him…” Her hands landed on her hips, and (Y/N) felt the instinctual itch to raise their gun at her “—how sloppy his incantation was?” Tracy scoffed. “My brother was always a little dim.”

            Dean and Sam’s heads rose to look at her in alarm, and (Y/N) raised their gun.

            “Retroversus!” Tracy threw a hand out and shouted.

            Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) flew backwards to the ground, and their guns fell from their grips. They groaned, and (Y/N) gripped their stomach as it turned from the spell. Their hand clasped around their indigo spirit quartz necklace, willing its supposed protection to serve them now. Asking for their parents’ protection, the protection they’d fought to give them after so many years as hunters.

            “He was gonna make me the final sacrifice,” said Tracy. She smirked. “I thought we’d get one of you—the great Winchesters—but I guess I’m glad. Turns out it would’ve been the poor little kiddo here. Samhain deserves a greater vessel than that.” She knelt beside (Y/N)’s body, the spell still holding them down. “Ugh.” She touched the spirit quartz around their neck and sneered. “Honestly, what is it even doing for you?”

            “Get…away from them,” said Sam, gritting his teeth.

            Dean’s hand reached towards his gun. (Y/N) glared fiercely at Tracy.

            “Whatever,” said Tracy, standing and looking to her brother’s body. “Now the honor goes to him. Our master has returned. This spellwork’s a two-man job, you understand? So for six-hundred-years, I had to deal with that pompous son of a bitch. Planning, preparing—unbearable.”

            Childish, thought (Y/N) as they heard Tracy pontificate.

            She knelt next to Don’s body. “The whole time, I wanted to rip his face off.” She picked up the golden cup and dagger. Digging the knife into Don’s chest, blood flowed freely into the cup. “And…” she chuckled “You get him with a gun. Oh, I love that.”

            (Y/N) felt the cramp in their stomach unwind, and they took a deep, shuddering breath. They didn’t move, though, not as Tracy’s eyes remained on the group of hunters she’d trapped.

            “You know, back in the day, this was the one night you kept your child inside,” she said. Finally, she turned away and headed to the table. An animal skull, goldenthread, baby bones, a pentacle, and other spell ingredients were set out with candles. “Well, tonight, you’ll all see what Halloween really is.” Her Latin resumed as she chanted for the return of Samhain.

            (Y/N) pulled the three masks they’d bought from their pocket. Carefully, they tossed them beside Dean and Sam. The Winchesters’ eyes widened, and they rolled onto them, bunching them in their hands.

            (Y/N) pulled the demon mask on their face—black with two little horns. Dean pulled on the white mask with black eyes—the ghost. Sam groaned and pulled on the clown mask, shuddering as he did.

            The ground shook beneath them, and the hunters looked at Tracy, still chanting. Black smoke rose through the cracks in the ground, and (Y/N) knew instantly this was Samhain, a demon from Hell. It flooded upwards, and Samhain’s “spirit” hovered like a cloud over the group before winding downwards into Don’s empty shell of a body.

            His eyes opened. The pupils remained black, but all else was white. Different from the regular demons—far more powerful. Samhain sat up, looking around the shed. He rose, and Tracy stared at him, reverent. No one took notice of the humans laying on the floor, now masked. Samhain walked forward towards Tracy. He took her face in his hands, and she smiled. Samhain kissed her.

            Oh, ew, in her brother’s body?! thought (Y/N), fighting not to cringe.

            “My love,” said Tracy, gazing at Samhain with pure devotion.

            Samhain looked at her carefully. “You’ve aged.”

            Tracy’s eyes went to the ground. “This face…I can’t fool you.”

            “Your beauty is beyond time,” said Samhain.

            Tracy smiled and leaned back in.

            Crack!

            Tracy’s body fell to the ground, neck broken. The loud thud echoed in the silent shed.

            “Whore,” said Samhain.

            He turned around, looking at the vague shapes he knew to be possibly people. He stepped forward, vision blurry. He peered downwards, but he saw inhuman markings. These were not people. Stepping over them, Samhain headed to the door. It swung open on its own, and he walked out into the modern world beyond.

            Dean raised his head. “What the hell was that?”

            “Remember? Masks,” said (Y/N). “That was the lore, so I thought we should be ready.”

            “Good call,” said Sam, sitting up and hurriedly pulling the clown mask off.

            “Come on,” said Dean, standing. “We gotta get after Mr. Blind.”

            “We failed at stopping the summoning,” said (Y/N), grimacing and standing.

            “Sure as hell did, but now we got bigger problems,” said Dean.

            “Bigger than another step towards Lucifer getting free?” said Sam, following Dean to the door.

            “We gotta stop Samhain from raising his forces of evil,” said Dean. “One problem at a time.”

            “Where would you go to raise all the dark forces of the night?” asked (Y/N).

            “A cemetery,” said Sam.

            “Sounds like the best place,” agreed (Y/N), getting into the impala as Dean unlocked it.

            He sped down the roads towards the cemetery they’d scoped out when getting the lay of the town.

            “So, this demon’s pretty powerful,” said Sam.

            “Yeah,” said Dean.

            Sam took a deep breath. “It might take more than the usual weapons.”

            Dean and (Y/N) looked at him. They knew what that meant.

            “Sam, no,” said Dean. “You’re not using your psychic whatever.”

            “But—”

            “Don’t even think about it.” Dean’s protective older brother tone had appeared. “Ruby’s knife is enough.”

            “Why?” said Sam.

            “Because the angel said so, for one,” said Dean.

            “I thought you said they were a bunch of fanatics!” said Sam.        

            “Castiel doesn’t seem so bad,” said (Y/N). “He listened to Dean, didn’t he? I think he’s right on this one.”

            “I don’t know,” said Sam, shaking his head. “It doesn’t seem like they’re right about much.”

            “Look, forget the angels, okay?” said Dean. “You said yourself, these powers—it’s like playing with fire.”

            “Right,” said (Y/N), nodding emphatically. “You should at least trust yourself.”

            “Please,” said Dean, holding Ruby’s knife up to Sam.

            Sam paused, swallowed any more words, and took the knife.

            They screeched into the cemetery, and they were out of the car in a moment. Cries were coming from a crypt, and they ran towards it. A bunch of teenagers were trying to escape, but they were locked in. Blood splattered the ground in front of graves that were opening. Samhain had been there, and he was still somewhere in the graveyard.

            “Help them,” said Sam instantly.

            “Dude, you’re not going off on your own!” said Dean.        

            “Do it!” said Sam.

            “You two go, I’ll get them,” said (Y/N).

            “You’re not working on your own,” said Sam.

            “Make up your mind before Samhain gets away,” said (Y/N). They pulled out their gun. “Move back!” Sam saw they had it and ran off.

            “Sam!” said Dean, but he heard a low growl from within the crypt and paused. Monsters. More of them. He couldn’t leave (Y/N) to fight them on their own.

            The scared teenagers ran back, and (Y/N) aimed at the lock. They fired, and the bullet hit. Dean pushed the doors open.

            “Go!” he said, and the partiers didn’t need another word. They ran for it, leaving the hunters to face the monsters rising.

            The graves rattled as monsters tried to push their ways out. One fell to the ground and shattered. Dean swung his gun to point at it as a zombie pulled its way out of the shelf. More began to do the same, and Dean opened his bag of weapons. He tossed a bat to (Y/N), and he held up a poker.

            “Bring it on, stinky,” said Dean.

            (Y/N) spun the bat in their grip, testing it. The zombies lunged, and Dean and (Y/N) swung. Dean pierced the zombie’s head, knocking it down, and pinned it down with a silver stake—the only way to keep it down. (Y/N) ducked as a zombie lunged and hit its legs. The zombie crumpled, and Dean stabbed it into the ground. One by one, they took out the zombies together, (Y/N) using the bat to knock the zombies down, Dean keeping them down with silver stakes.

            Heels clicked, and (Y/N) spun and swung. The figure of a woman before them glitched and reappeared behind them. A force pushed them forward, and they hit a wall. Dean jumped to his feet, but the same force sent him flying.

            “Ghosts,” he grimaced.

            “Great, it’s a Halloween party,” said (Y/N).

            “That’s it,” said Dean. “We’re torching everybody.” He lunged for his bag, tossed (Y/N) a poker, and grabbed gasoline. “Cover me.”

            (Y/N) did so. Every ghost that approached, they swung at while Dean threw gasoline everywhere in the crypt. Grabbing his light, Dean looked at (Y/N) as they hit another ghost with the iron.

            “Get ready to run!” said Dean.

            (Y/N)’s iron poker slashed through another ghost. “Got it!”

            Dean lit the gasoline, and fire lurched to life. Dean and (Y/N) bolted to the entrance of the crypt as the bodies and bones began to burn. The ghosts let out ghastly screams as their spirits burnt with their bones. Panting, they emerged from the crypt, covered in soot and blood.

            “We need to find Sam,” said Dean instantly.

            They bolted for farther into the cemetery, towards a church-like structure. Holding their holds—not that they would do much—they rounded a corner into a hallway where shouts of exertion bounced off the walls. They drew up short.

            Samhain stood before Sam, straining to approach him. Sam’s hand was raised and his face screwed up in concentration. His psychic abilities held Samhain back. Dean’s hand dropped from the strap of his bag in disappointment, and (Y/N) shifted, unsure what to do. Sam saw them, and his eyes flicked from Samhain to Dean and (Y/N) and back again. He had lied.

            Samhain forced himself a step closer, and Sam groaned. He held his head while he strained to keep his powers working. Black smoke began to exorcize from Don’s body. It flooded from the body as Sam’s face screwed up in pain. Blood dripped from his nose, but he put his all into expelling Samhain from this world and sending him straight back to Hell. The last of the smoke flew from Don’s body, and the corpse hit the ground with a resounding thud. The smoke flew through cracks in the ground, falling straight back to Hell, where he belonged.

            Sam’s breath came sharp and heavy from the overexertion. His shoulders heaved, and he shakily looked up at his brother. “Dean—”

            “Let’s go home, Sammy,” said Dean. He couldn’t say anything more. His disappointment was too strong.

            Sam’s gaze lowered. (Y/N) shifted. Nothing more was said. There was nothing anyone could say.

l

            (Y/N) sat down on the park bench. The tall trees and pine stood around them. People walked around, chatting and yawning after staying up the previous night. Kids ate candy from their troubles the previous night. (Y/N) turned over a piece of candy they’d taken on their walks. Unwrapping it—a purple lollipop—they stared at it. The smoky, indigo color reminded them of their necklace. They popped the lollipop into their mouth, and then they pulled their necklace from where it rested against their skin beneath their shirt. It felt right, letting it stay against them, more protective. In fact, it touched the edges of their tattoo.

            (Y/N) stared at the necklace. The witch’s words echoed in their head.

            “It’s weak. Honestly, what is it even doing for you?”

            Tracy had been wrong. The necklace hadn’t been weak. Not that (Y/N) understood how it could be strong—it was just a crystal. It wasn't truly magic, but (Y/N) had felt it, remembered their parents, and fought harder to get up from Tracy's magic. Their parents—hunters—had given them something that could help them against monsters: a gift of love that reminded them to fight.

            Mom. Dad.

            (Y/N)’s heart cracked as the memories well up. Hugs. Kisses on the forehead. Soft hands wiping tears from their eyes. Cups of tea to warm their heart. Gardening together. Lessons and “silly” stories of centuries past. Sitting on the couch with the TV on. Hikes through the woods. Pointing out the animals and plants they passed. Love. Each moment—from the insignificant to the emotional—felt precious in (Y/N)’s mind.

            A tear fell down (Y/N)’s cheek, and they sniffled. I miss my mom and dad. More tears trembled in their eyes and fell, promptly becoming a waterfall. Drawing their feet up onto the bench, (Y/N) hugged their knees and buried their face in their knees. They felt so alone. They wanted their mom and dad back. They wanted them back more than they could bear.

Taglist:

@snowy-violet

@girgal73

@neenieweenie

@yummycement

@pain-in-the-ashe

@w0mank1sser

@taeswolfie

@yappydoo

@demonic-insomniac

@aew-regression-cove

@grippledee-galaxy

@lemmejustreadman

@coffeecloud135

@star-maker-rain-dancer

@introvertathome

@trashcannotbealive

@iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

@dmitrytherat

@paastaboi

@kaz-2y5-spn

[problematic-fodlan]

I'll dump some of my favorite 3H fics in this post and maybe I can fill another post, too. Lex Talionis by cyranonic Surrender by itsmytreat To The Brink by Curlsandcollege a secret in your throat by venomoushearts Gift-Wrapped by yuuen The Agreement by anonymous (look in the Annette/Hubert tag if you can't find it) A Prayer Among the Ruins by RoseisaRoseisaRose Purple Without All the Red by orphan_account (a Marianne/Dimitri fic if the title is not enough to find it) Wait by ExpensiveSoap In From The Cold by ExpensiveSoap he'll keep her like an oath by pseudofaux A Deciphering Flame by printers_devil so tell me (what you want from me) by GoldenThreads De Arte Venandi by anonymous (look among Edelgard/Dimitri fics if you can't find it) Coming of Age by GoldenThreads The Lorenz of Doubt by readythefanons (keep reading until the Leonie and Lorenz part start to diverge, that's where it gets really good) True Love Restraint by cathrheas Just Walk With Me by printers_devil white roses and cracked skin by Engineer104 Ten of Swords by unrivaled_tapestry Warhound by GoldenThreads light is the lion that comes down by signalbeam Within these Hands by jepifish red to the thorns by signalbeam Garroter by unrivaled_tapestry Ruptured Heaven by TheDarktivist corresponding by herecomesaspecialboy (hamburglar)

-

[phantomdoodler]

Part 1 of 2 for Something Borrowed, Something True, a collab with @glittrcrittr and GoldenThreads.

The other part is dirty :)

[liligeometry]

You Weave Fate Into Form – Thread by Golden Thread ✨ #PatternMaker #WeaveYourFate #GoldenThread #SacredDesign #SpiritualSymbolism #LifeAsTapestry #MindfulLiving #SpiritualTiming #FateWeaver #DivineCraft

[kongposh]

Saffron’s Legacy: The Gold Thread of Tradition & Taste

For centuries, saffron has been more than just a spice it’s a symbol of heritage, luxury, and healing. From the hands of skilled farmers to your kitchen, every strand tells a story of dedication and purity. But in a world of imitations, true saffron remains a rare treasure. Are you experiencing the real essence of saffron? Or just settling for less? Choose authenticity. Choose tradition. Choose excellence. Limited stock available—secure yours now before it’s gone.

SaffronLegacy #PureSaffron #TimelessTradition #GoldenThreads #saffronstoremalaysia #saffronmalaysia #SaffronBusiness #AuthenticTaste #LuxuryInEveryStrand

[bluebunnystudio]

Golden Threads: Ancient Magic Meets Maternal Love

"Golden Threads: The Name That Saved a Child" reimagines the classic Rumpelstiltskin tale through a lens that emphasizes both its wonder and psychological depth. This five-episode Sergio Novel transforms a simple fairy tale into a nuanced exploration of impossible demands, magical bargains, and the lengths a mother will go to protect her child.

From the desperate miller's boast that seals his daughter's fate to the clever queen's triumphant discovery of a name that breaks an otherworldly contract, each episode builds tension while maintaining the emotional core of this timeless story. The visualizations breathe new life into familiar scenes—straw-filled chambers transformed into treasure, a mysterious helper working midnight magic, and the final confrontation where knowledge becomes power.

What makes this adaptation special is its attention to the underlying emotions driving each character: a father's desperate attempt to improve his family's situation, a maiden's courage when faced with impossible tasks, a king's insatiable greed, and ultimately, a mother's fierce determination to protect her child at all costs.

A stunning visual journey through one of folklore's most enduring tales of clever triumph over magical manipulation.

#GoldenThreads #Rumpelstiltskin #SergioNovel #FairyTaleRemastered #SpinningGold #MagicalBargain #FolkloreFusion #NameMagic #MotherLove #ClassicTales #VisualStorytelling #GrimmFairytales #SpinningWheel #RoyalQueen #MagicalHelper #ImpossibleTask #CleverQueen #FolkloreArt #StrawIntoGold #BargainBreaker

[helpmakebetterdecisions]

The Golden Loom: Weaving Stories of Love | SDG 12 |

to support water resource management! Together, we can make better decisions for our planet. Every like, share, subscribe and comment counts! 💪✨ hashtag#HelpMakeBetterDecisions hashtag#WaterConservation https://lnkd.in/dCgRWvFs 👈 please support my channel #thegoldenloom #heritagecrafts #storyineverystitch #WeavingStories #mendandrepair #PreserveThePast #SustainableLiving #craftingmemories #loveandloss #talesoftenderness #artofrepair #ecofriendly #FamilyTraditions #HeartfeltStories #goldenthreads

[tangled-tango]

How are you communicating with him?

hypnno? imsending email!! imgood at email!! maybe goldenthread?maybe we'reestilltogether!

[radishleaf]

time to revisit my favorite ferdibert ficccc.