#there is hidden gems I've LONG forgotten about

[theartingace]

going through some old CR files and found this random dragon hidden in the layers and idk what was happening here but it's a vibe (and I like this dragon design but I'm not going to do anything about it)

[yooniivrse]

pottery date | myg

summary. you never expected to find pottery so difficult, so it's a good thing that your boyfriend is right there, ready to help guide you with his gentle hands.

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pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au, fluff

word count: 1.1k

content: yoongi and oc goes on a pottery date / yoongi helps oc with pottery / yoongi realises how much he loves oc 🤧

warnings: they’re both very much in love, thats all 😭

a/n: this was inspired by a random tiktok. i have no idea how pottery works so i apologise if any of this is inaccurate. this ended up being shorter than my usual drabbles lol. feedback, likes, reblogs, comments and asks are all greatly appreciated!! i hope you enjoyy <33

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main masterlist

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Pottery is a lot harder than people make it out to be.

You were convinced you’d be a natural at this. After all, how hard could it be to mould some clay into a simple bowl or vase? But now, as you sit at the pottery wheel with a lopsided, uncooperative lump of clay before you, the task seems almost Herculean.

The pottery studio was a hidden gem, tucked away on a quiet street. It was a warm, relaxing place filled with the earthy smell of clay and the constant hum of pottery wheels. This place was Yoongi's idea, after revealing that he had been attending classes for the past month and had completely forgotten to tell you. You had been annoyed with him at first, but your mood instantly changed when he invited you to attend a couple’s class with him.

Now you understand why he had such a smug smile on his face when he suggested it.

You glance over at Yoongi, who sits beside your wheel. His eyes are focused, his long fingers carefully shaping the clay into a perfect cylinder. He wears a simple beige top and dark jeans under an apron tied loosely around his waist. His grown-out hair falls across his eyes in small waves, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“How are you so good at this?” you ask. He looks up, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m just lucky,” he says with a small shrug. "I've also attended more classes than you, so."

"Yeah, which is totally unfair."

Yoongi chuckles. “Want some help?”

You sigh, glancing down at your creation. “Please. This thing looks like it belongs in a horror movie.”

He chuckles, wiping his hands on a damp towel before approaching your wheel. “Alright, let’s see what we can do.”

He pulls his stool closer to you and wraps his arms around yours. Your fingers intertwine on the clay, and his breath fans across the side of your face. His touch is warm and reassuring, his presence somehow making the task seem less daunting. He shifts your fingers slightly, guiding your movements with gentle precision.

“Okay, press down a little more here,” he instructs, his voice low and soothing. “And use your other hand to steady it. See? It’s all about balance.”

You follow his guidance, feeling the clay start to yield under your touch, smoothing into a proper shape. The wheel hums softly beneath your feet as you find a rhythm, the clay cool and malleable against your palms.

“There you go,” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. “You’ve got it.”

You relax into his embrace and Yoongi rests his chin on your shoulder. The pleasant, citrusy scent of his perfume overtakes your senses, and for a moment, everything else seems to fade away.

It’s just the two of you, your head resting against his shoulder as you let him control most of your moves. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back and his calloused hands that gently move over yours as you mould the clay together.

“You make it look so easy,” you say, glancing sideways at him. His focus is intent, but there’s a gentle smile on his lips. You ignore the urge to place a peck on the mole that lies just beside his nose.

“It’s all about having the right teacher,” he replies, and you playfully roll your eyes.

Yoongi leans back slightly, letting you take control. You can feel his watchful eyes on you, his presence a comforting weight at your side. He remains close, offering guidance with small nudges or murmured suggestions when you falter.

Occasionally, he whispers words of praise and encouragement in that stupidly attractive voice of his and smirks to himself when he notices the flush on your skin.

As the minutes pass, you find yourself becoming more comfortable, the awkwardness melting away. The clay responds to your touch, smoothing into an even form that vaguely resembles a bowl. It’s far from perfect, of course, but it’s yours.

“Look at that,” Yoongi says, admiration in his voice. “You’re a natural.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Hardly. But it’s better than what I started with, thanks to you.”

“We make a good team,” he says with a grin, that gummy smile lighting up his face.

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Before leaving, you drag Yoongi along to the pale, wooden shelves that line the walls, displaying an array of colourful mugs and vases with unique shapes and intricate designs. You inspect them all in awe, marvelling at the ones you find pretty and keeping them in mind as inspiration for your next piece.

A small mug catches your eye. It’s coloured in a light shade of cream, with baby pink bows painted across the exterior.

“Would it be taking inspo if I just copy this design?”

Yoongi chuckles softly, stepping closer to you to take a closer look at the mug himself. “Mhm, probably.”

You let out a disappointed sigh. “It’s so pretty though.”

He watches you stare at the mug like it holds the answers to the universe, unable to help the smile that draws across his face. The butterflies in his stomach flutter around at the sight of you looking so fondly at something so mundane.

The urge to kiss you is suddenly overwhelming. He’s so close to you that he can see the few moles dotted across your face and neck, and the faint pigment of your favourite lip gloss shining on your parted lips. In fact, he’s so close that it would take little to no effort to press his mouth to yours.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he squeezes your hand for a few seconds—a secret message that you originally came up with after sensing his hesitance to PDA.

I love you.

The action pulls your gaze from the mug to Yoongi’s face, eyes slightly wide with surprise but clouded with affection, lips curling from a smile into a grin as you mimic the action.

It’s stupid how you still manage to make him feel like this after all these years of dating. He’s embarrassed by the faint warmth that envelops his cheeks, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

God, he just fell in love with you all over again.

[bad-era-curls]

𝘾𝙡𝙪𝙗 30’𝙨

𝘽𝘼𝙎𝙀𝘿 𝙇𝙊𝙊𝙎𝙀𝙇𝙔 𝘼𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙉𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙀 “𝙎𝙈𝙊𝙊𝙏𝙃 𝘾𝙍𝙄𝙈𝙄𝙉𝘼𝙇“ 𝙈𝙑/ “𝙈𝙊𝙊𝙉𝙒𝘼𝙇𝙆𝙀𝙍“ 𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙀

⚠️ 𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙚𝙡 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙎𝙤𝙛𝙩 𝘿𝙤𝙢 𝙈𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙑𝙪𝙡𝙜𝙖𝙧 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙉𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙, 𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙩/𝙉𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮, 𝘾𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙨, 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙄𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚⚠️

𝙒𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙮: @𝙗𝙖𝙙-𝙚𝙧𝙖-𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙡𝙨

(𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣)

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

“Club 30s” - a name that perfectly captured the essence of this hidden gem tucked away in a forgotten alley. With its mahogany interior and flickering, dim fluorescent lights, it was like stepping back in time to the 1930s. The smooth melodies of jazz filled the air, blending with the hushed chatter of patrons comfortably nestled in plush velvet booths.

For yourself and your best friend Sefra, this was a weekly tradition - a chance to unwind and catch up after a long week of work. As you both sat there, sharing laughs and clinking glasses, it felt like all the stress of the past few days melted away.

But then, Sefra's voice broke through the ambiance.

"Hey, Y/N," she whispered, barely audible above the music. "Have you ever seen that guy here before?"

She gestured towards the entrance of the club, where a man in a white pin-striped suit and fedora had just walked in. With his bouncy black curls and warm doe-like eyes, he exuded an air of modesty and poise as he made his way towards the bar.

It was impossible not to notice him - he seemed to have stepped straight out of a mafia-style movie. You turned to Sefra and shook your head. "Nope, never seen him before."

But your gaze kept straying back to the mysterious newcomer. There was something undeniably captivating about him. You watched as he took a seat at the red leather barstool and tilted his fedora while chatting with the bartender. It was hard to tear your eyes away.

Sefra nudged you playfully and whispered, "You should go say hi." A mischievous grin spread across her face as she egged you on.

“Oh, I don't know,” you chuckled, your eyes glancing back at her for a brief moment before fixating on the intriguing stranger once more, “He seems to be—”

Sefra's voice cut through the air, snapping you back to reality. "Nonsense!" she insisted, her gaze burning into yours. "Go on, make a move. You never know what could happen."

Your heart raced with a mix of excitement and trepidation as you took a deep breath. "What if he's not interested? I mean—“

"Oh, please!" Sefra scoffed, nudging you harder now. "Look at him! He's totally checking you out!" She nodded in his direction, her enthusiasm contagious.

You groaned playfully, knowing she was right. It had been far too long since you had dated, let alone laid eyes on someone with such charm and grace.

"Fine," you relented with a chuckle, slowly pushing yourself up from your seat. Sefra gave you a reassuring pat on the arm as you made your way over to the mysterious man at the bar. The smooth sounds of jazz filled the room, creating a haze of nerves and anticipation with each step you took.

"Sitting there all by yourself?" you joked as you approached him, smiling coyly. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as his dark brown eyes met yours. You gracefully took a seat on the barstool next to him, feeling a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

"I'm Y/N," you introduced yourself with a warm smile. "I couldn't help but notice you sitting here all alone." The man turned to face you fully now, his lips parting slightly as he took in your confident and alluring presence.

"Michael," he replied smoothly, his voice like velvet blending seamlessly with the fading notes of a trumpet in the background. "I don't think I've ever seen you here before, Y/N. Do you come here often?" His eyes lingered on you, a noticeable stiffness already tightening his pants in response to your presence.

“Yeah,” you chuckled lightly, half-nodding your head as you looked fixedly into Michael’s gentle, yet focused gaze “I could say the same thing, I can't say that I've seen you around this joint either”

"Well, I guess tonight's my debut," Michael said with a playful grin, tilting his fedora slightly. "What brings you to Club 30’s?"

“Just a little escape from reality, I suppose,” you replied, feeling more at ease as conversation flowed. “Work’s been a bit much lately. How about you?”

“Oh, you know, just looking for a place with character,” he responded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I think I’ve found it.”

You and Michael spoke for what seemed like hours, immersed in each other's stories and laughter, oblivious to the world around the both of you as the flirtation between the two of you sparked. Sefra had already gone back to her apartment with another fellow by the time you realized you were the last patrons left in the dimly lit club.

“Damn,” you muttered softly as you looked down at your watch, noticing that the time had read 11:23 pm.

"Time flew by with you, Y/N" Michael remarked, his eyes twinkling under the ambient golden glow of the bar lights. He gently took your hand into his own. “Come on, how about we continue this back at my hotel room?”

This was such an astounding offer Michael had made to you - but how could you turn down such a proposition from a guy as charismatic and attractive as him? After a moment’s hesitation masked as thoughtful silence, you nodded with a smile playing on your lips.

“Well, I suppose it wouldn't be the worst idea,” you laughed, your eyes meeting Michael’s hand as rubs his thumb against your skin reassuringly. “Yeah! Totally, I’m down for that!”

“Great!” he exclaimed gently, carefully standing up from his barstool, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to guide you up gingerly. “My hotel is just a short walk from here," he added, leading you out of Club 30s as the soft notes of jazz carried you into.

The cold air hit the pair of you as you walked down the barely lit alleyway, your footsteps echoing with each step you made. The streets were quiet, a sharp contrast to the warm buzz of the club. The anticipation of what might happen next hung in the air as you neared the hotel. Minutes had turned into seconds, as the words “Hotel” in neon lights came into view, blinking intermittently like a nervous pulse.

“We’re here,” Michael muttered softly, a smirk plastering across his face as you both reached the entrance of the hotel and stepped inside. The dimly lit lobby whispered secrets of late-night adventures past, its air thick with promise and unspoken desire.

Your heart was thudding inside your chest with each step made towards Michael’s hotel room. Room 777. The door creaked open as Michael turned the doorknob, revealing a dimly lit space that felt both intimate and inviting.

“Now. Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart,” he whispered softly, closing the door behind him. You glanced around, taking in the ambience as Michael dimmed the lights further, casting shadows that danced upon the walls. His demeanour in this moment was ample to send shivers down your spine.

There was something magnetic about the way he moved, each gesture deliberate and languid. You were horny. You knew how badly you craved every inch of him. Michael took soft steps towards you until your face met his, reaching his hand to gently tuck the stray hairs away from your face.

“Y/N,” he spoke in a seductive, hushed tone, his hot breath hitting your face as he leaned in closer, his soft lips barely hovering over yours, “Let me show you just what I've been thinking about all night”

His words, his tone, the way he gazed into eyes, sent sparks of longing coursing through your veins. The room seemed to hum with electric tension, the silence begging for release. You licked your lips, feeling the heat radiating from his body, the world outside fading further away as Michael loomed closer, a magnetic force pulling you into his orbit.

“Michael, I—” you started, your heart racing as his lips brushed against yours, just a whisper away.

“Shhh,” he murmured, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “Just relax. I promise you’ll enjoy this.” He leaned in, your lips meeting in a tender yet urgent kiss, igniting a fire that had been dormant inside you. You melted against him as your kiss started to deepen, your hands instinctively finding their way to his shoulders. His tender touch started to glide against your hips, softly trailing them to the small of your back, meeting the strap of your bra hiding underneath your blouse.

“This needs to go,” he murmured as his fingers clumsily undid the clasp, his warm palms gliding over the soft fabric before it slid from your shoulders. The cool air of the room caressed your skin, heightening your senses, making your breath hitch in your throat. Your breasts were exposed to the dim light, and you felt a euphoric rush through your body.

You could sense Michael's gaze upon you, his expression a mixture of desire and admiration as his eyes sparkled with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Fuck. You’re breathtaking,” he whispered, his voice deep and sultry, sending shivers down your spine. His hands moved slowly from your back, cupping the soft, supple skin of your breasts, a shaky breath escaping his lips. You moaned against his lips, unable to contain the pleasure coursing through you.

“Michael…” you breathed, your eyes fluttering closed, overwhelmed by sensation. You knew you just met him tonight, but his charm and seductiveness sent your body into overdrive just from his touch alone.

“Don’t talk, sweetheart,” he hushed you, peppering butterfly kisses from your neck, tenderly down your collarbone. “Relax. Let me take the lead”. His large, soft palms caressed the flesh of your breasts, his lips puffed hot air on your skin as he moved his head downwards.

Your fingers tangled in Michael's hair, pulling him closer as waves of pleasure radiated through you. His hand slid down your trembling body, caressing your curves before dipping between your thighs. You whimpered at his touch, already slick with desire. Michael's fingers explored you with exquisite slowness, teasing and stroking as his mouth continued to lavish attention on your breasts, his tongue effortlessly grazing against your nipple. Your back arched, a soft sigh escaping your parted lips as you took in his touches.

"You're so fucking perfect," he murmured against your flushed skin. "I want to taste every inch of you."

He bit his lip, gently pushing your body by the hips until had you laid against the plush hotel bed, the sheets cool against your heated skin. Michael's gaze roamed over you hungrily, as if he were memorizing every curve, every sigh. There was an intoxicating mix of reverence and desire in his expression, and it sent a rush of exhilaration spiraling through your veins.

His lips blazed a trail of kisses down your stomach, making you quiver with anticipation. You spread your legs wider, inviting him closer as he settled between your thighs. He let out a deep, shaky exhale at the appetitive sight of your rosy pink, dripping laced panties hiding underneath your skirt.

He was caught under a spell, as if your pulsing, soaking pussy was a siren's song, luring him in despite his better judgment. Without a word, he dropped to his knees in front of you.

“Oh, Michael,” you sighed softly, watching his every movement as his face was now mere millimeters from your hot, throbbing cunt.

Eyes level with your mound, he inhaled the sweet, musky scent of your arousal, making his cock pulsate even more, his own erection becoming almost painfully uncomfortable underneath his pants. Nevertheless, his focus in this moment of utopia was your satisfaction. He just so desperately wanted to please you.

“Lay back, baby girl. I’m going to treat your pretty little pussy the way it deserves to be treated,” his voice was laced with a sensual agitation. The first swipe of his tongue against your raw, throbbing clit made you cry out, hips bucking involuntarily.

Michael gripped your hip with his left hand, holding you in place as he worshipped your hot, wet cunt with his lips before he simultaneously slid two long, rigid fingers into your slick entrance. His digits gradually pumped inside you, hitting your g-spot effortlessly, sending your body into spasms of pleasure. You moaned as you tilted your head back into the mattress, your juices coating his fingers in an abundant, warm, and sticky mess.

"S-so good, Michael," you moaned, almost unable to catch up to your own breath "God, so fucking good ." You yearned for this encounter with Michael to be taken to a new level, your begging whimpers from his strokes pleading for him to give you more.

You gasped as he pulled away from your throbbing bud, leaving a trail of hot wetness behind. His fingers slick with your juices, he slowly crawled up your body, stopping to tease your nipples with his tongue and lips. You arched your back, begging for more.

“Michael,” you whimpered in a breathy, aroused tone, “I want more. I want more of you”

His eyes darkened with desire as he reached for the button of his trousers, slowly yet finessely revealing his dark, hard, veiny cock - his protruding, swollen tip almost dripping in his precum, anticipating the moment it would be pushed inside your tight, wet heat.

He leaned in; his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, his voice low and sultry, “Yeah? You’re going to feel so good around my cock, sweetheart.”

Those words. Those words were more than enough to have you on the edge of your orgasmic cliff, ready to fall apart at the slightest touch.

With a groan of desire, Michael wrapped his fingers around his colossal member. He stroked himself lazily, as he slowly pressed his wet tip against your entrance, teasing you both. The head of his cock teased your inner walls before he pushed in a little further.

“Oh, fuck. Y/N,” he muttered, his mouth parted in response to the tightness of your pussy, so wet and ready for him. He slid inch by inch, stretching you with his girth, filling you inch by inch until he was deep inside of you.

“Ahh. Michael, oh my god,” you moaned, the incredible, overwhelming sensation of him inside you causing your toes to curl. Your body wrapped around his shaft like a vice, as if it were made only for him.

Michael held himself still for a moment wanting you to adjust to his girthy size, resting his weight on his elbows as he gazed down at you, his eyes burning with lust and adoration.

"God, your pussy feels so good. So fucking tight, baby."

Without any warning, he began to thrust, his hips pumping in and out of yours, picking up speed. His fast, yet steady movements prompted desirable cries to escape your lips, and watching the beautiful, lustful expression on Michael’s face further aroused you. You gripped the sheets tightly, your nails digging into the fabric as ecstasy swelled inside you.

"Fuck, M-Michael. Harder. H-harder," you panted, your eyes squeezing shut.

He complied, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you harder, faster, stretching your entrance, his cock hitting the very core of your being with every thrust. You could feel the building pressure inside you, the sparks of pleasure shooting up and down your spine, bubbling in your lower abdomen. Both of your moans began to fill the space of the hotel room, it’s a wonder that nobody else in the neighbouring rooms could hear Michael pounding the daylights out of you.

"Fuck, Y/N. You’re gonna make me cum so fast,” Michael wheezed, his face a picture of ecstasy.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his body glistening in the dim light of the hotel room. His muscles tensed as he continued to pound into you, each thrust inching you and him closer and closer to what would soon to become an explosive orgasm.

The primal noises that escaped both your mouths echoed in the room, bouncing off the walls and reverberating in the air. The only sounds you could hear were the wet, slick noises of Michael's shaft sliding in and out of you and your moans, as your climaxes near approached.

"Ahh, M-Michael. I-I'm c-cumming."

You clenched around him, your pussy milking him dry of his own seed, as you both climaxed in unison, your bodies trembling in the aftermath of the most intense orgasm you've ever had. Michael collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy, and his heart pounding against yours.

“Y/N,” Michael muttered, catching up to his breath as he rode out the euphoric waves that rushed through him, gently placing a soft kiss on your sweaty brow, “Holy shit.”

“That was...”

You couldn’t find any words to describe the intensity of the sexual encounter you just had with Michael. Nothing could ever top that. You lay there, panting, your body aching in all the right places, and you couldn’t be happier.

“Amazing?”

You looked at him, his eyes swimming with a mixture of lust and adoration, as if he still couldn’t believe that you just had the most mind-blowing sex of your lives.

“Yeah, amazing,” you breathed out, your voice still shaky from the aftermath of your orgasm, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Michael chuckled, rolling off of you, but not before pulling the sheets over both of you, cocooning you in the warmth of the covers.

“Good, because I was out of adjectives.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh, the tension in the room dissipating into thin air as you both drifted off to sleep, bodies entwined, a satisfied smile plastered on both of your faces.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

Oh my gosh…this was the first fanfic/imagine I had written in 10 years! I really hope I still have my mojo :P

And I hope you all enjoyed reading! I hope you all think that it is good enough for me to keep writing and publish more fanfics/imagines for all of you!

[ivoryghostyy]

— meet Cirius

「 image is not mine. it's sourced from pinterest. 」

「 note: look who's back after not posting for idfk how long. but hey, here's a fic, plus a new layout! haha... i have so much to edit, but anyways, i hope y'all enjoy this little idea i've pulled straight out of my ass. man, i could not get it out of my head. so, uh, have fun ig. 'til next time. buh-bye! 」

「 tw: swearing, mentions/implications of violence, threatening, obsession, manipulation, etc. 」

—————————————————————————————————

human emotions are fickle, but for Cirius, they're practically a foreign concept. dull faces accompanied him wherever he went. they would bother him, talk to him, and feign interest. no mask, however, could completely cover the rotting desires humans hide.

it confuses him, really, but what can he do? if they entertain him, then playing along wouldn't hurt anyone. otherwise, he'd probably die of boredom. besides, he has a reputation to keep. lashing out would only destroy his own facade.

university wasn't doing him any good either, despite his well-maintained rank. he's perfect, and every single one of them could see that. they praise him, and they raise him onto a pedestal. it's nothing new, not interesting at all. his eyes don't spare any of them a glance.

so imagine his surprise when he comes across you. it was onky a brief moment—barely even a second—but he saw it. you weren't hidden in a shroud of grey clouds, you were the embodiment of the sun. your eyes sparkled brighter than any gem he had ever seen. and he's seen a lot of gems, so that says a lot.

you're.. different. and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued. how did he miss someone like you? he hummed, a finger tapping the fabric of his sleeve. a new student, perhaps? but why would anyone transfer so late into the year?

you scurried away before he could say anything. ah, he should have atleast gotten your name... but it's alright. his fingers weave through the soft knots of his light pink hair, a cold smile creeping onto his plush lips.

it doesn't take much to find you and your entire history. goodness, he should've found you sooner. you've been living like this for your entire life? you're barely able to keep yourselves afloat. he's exaggerating. the more he learns about you, and the more he watches you, the deeper he falls into the dark pit of obsession.

don't worry, he'll take care of everything. his darling wife deserves the best and only the best, after all. he'll talk to his parents and arrange a dinner with his future family-in-law your parents, throw in a few lies here, a few threats there, and it's smooth sailing towards your engagement.

surely, you'll agree, right? even if you don't, do you really have a choice? anything he wants, he will have. and you? you're no exception.

you pace through the bustling halls, weaving through the chattering human barricades as they march into another boring lecture. contrary to the relaxed pace of these students, however, you're scrambling to reach your own destination: the library.

since you're free for this period, you thought you'd take the time to look around the grand library. really, this is the only reason you tried so hard to get into such a prestigious school. your family wasn't well-off, but earn enough to keep a delicious meal on your plate and a sturdy roof above your head.

the polished doubledoors creak open, and without wasting another second, you're already scanning book-lined shelves. the forgotten book of herbal remedies, the book of lies, 101 ways to hide a body... wait, what?

deciding not to question it, you finally find a good novel to read. to nobody's surprise, it's dark romance because of course it is. happily, you sink into a comfy bean bag this makes me kinda jealous and lose yourself within the pages, ignorant to brown eyes watching your every move.

a shadow looms over you, and you barely have any time to react before you're pulled into a lean chest, arms wrapped securely around your waist.

"wh-"

"there you are, my precious wife!"

your brain is barely processing the situation. what is he talking about? who is he talking about? it takes a around a minute before you've pulled yourself back, landing not-so gracefully onto the bean bag that you were just sitting on a moment before.

"sorry, i think you may have the wrong person," you say, firmly.

you've never seen this man in your life, who the hell does he think he is? what did he call you? his wife? he better be joking. he's either mistaken or insane. probably the latter, hun. he's insanely in love with you.

"how could i mistake you for anyone else?"

and now he's pulling you along to his fancy car, talking about how he'll introduce you to his parents because apparantly, he's already talked to them about the wedding and-

what do you mean he's talked to your parents!? and they didn't tell you anything!? that's because he threatened them with your safety, but you don't have to know that.

the worst part? you left your book at the library!

could it be any worse? yes, it could. after dinner with your supposed parents-in-law, you pull him aside. he's happy to follow you, anticipating anything you have to say. are you excited too? he's already imagining all the fun you'll have together. cuddling with you, holding your hand, going on dates, spending the rest of his life with you-

"i'm sorry, but i'm not marrying you."

"..good joke, honey."

you're not joking? he falls silent. you've already left by the time he came back to his senses, and he's never felt emptier in his life. how do you think this man—someone who had been given everything he could ever need; who could have the whole world served on a silver platter if he asked—will face the rejection of the single person he's genuinely fallen head over heels for?

it's safe to say that his ego is absolutely bruised. don't even get me started on his heart. words cannot describe the world-shattering devestation he felt. no, he wouldn't stand for this. he's never taken no for an answer, and he certainly isn't starting now.

you will be with him, and he doesn't care if he has to shatter your legs just to make sure you never leave. let's hope it never comes to that, though. he quite likes it when you smile, but he supposedly wouldn't mind seeing you cry, either.

within the next few months, it's like the world is crumbling. your parents lose their jobs, your grades are suddenly dropping, you can barely earn enough from your part-time job to keep food on your plates—it's a mess.

you're struggling, and he knows it.

when you're at your lowest point, he'll pay you a visit. pitiful darling, you know he can make it all go away, right? he'll help you. like a demon tempting to grant your deepest, darkest desire.

"shh, don't cry, sweetheart," he'll take care of you.

don't worry, honey, he can make it all go away. it's not difficult to give you back all that he took away. everything you've lost can be placed right back onto your gorgeous little palm.

but at what cost?

your body.

your soul.

your mind.

your everything.

don't you see, honey? he would do anything for you. new clothes? he'll buy the entire mall. need a better house? how about a mansion? want the moon? he'll do his best to get it for you, no questions asked. you could have everything you could ever want and more.

it's a generous offer, lovely. all he asks for, in return, is that you give up. you were his the moment he saw you, and that might have been the biggest mistake of your life.

say yes, honey. it's the only option you have.

[sitp-recs]

Sitp Essentials - Fandomversary Edition: Writcraft

June marks the 12th (!!!) fandomversary of this incredibly talented and generous author, whose work has brought me so much joy and healing over the years. What an accomplishment, my friend! I know I’m not only speaking for myself when I say that we are so very grateful for your presence and immense contributions to the HP fandom. I’m a bit wary of taking on long-term projects these days but I really wanted to do something to celebrate this milestone so I’ve decided that, during the month of June (and there was no better month to celebrate in! 🏳️‍🌈) I’ll be posting single recs for 12 of my favourite fics by @writcraft. Some are older recs, written in the blog’s early days, some are brand new, highlighting rare pairs, hidden gems and recent works. I won’t have a rigid schedule because I don’t wanna set myself up for failure so the rec posts will be a surprise even for me 🤣 I hope you guys enjoy them just as much!

Anyone who knows me well is aware that I’m very shy around my fandom heroes and will rarely initiate any kind of conversation with them. I was so anxious about being perceived that I wouldn't even tag them when I created the blog. Writ holds even more power in my imaginary fandom altar because they’ve written one of my all-time favorite fics. I found Little Compton Street aka the “Life on Mars Love Story Told in 3 Acts” at a difficult time of my life when I was almost leaving fandom for good. But getting to read LCS and to fall in love with those magical London spots and captivating characters was a beautiful transformative experience that altered me completely. This fic not only had a profound impact on my ever changing self-awareness as a queer person, it checked my many fic reading boxes, and pulled at my heartstrings in all the right ways. I've learned so much from LCS; it is an ode to queer history, a love letter to all of those who came and fought before us, and to all of those who were killed, erased and forgotten in the process. It is is a story filled with hope and a compassionate reminder urging us to always resist, and never forget.

*at a loss of words*

(…)

As you can see, I always get immersed in my feels when I think about LCS and I know it will always have a special place in my heart. This feeling of profound gratitude and joy for Writ’s formative works is what inspired me to do this humble homage. Am I a bit nervous about not having enough fuel to see this through? Hell yes. But I’m opening myself to the possibility of failure because I know this is for someone who’s unfailingly kind and compassionate. Writ, I admire you deeply as a writer and even more so as a person. Your contributions to the HP fandom through fics, fests and meta over the years have been immense, and I know your RL contributions to the queer community and its memory have been just as impactful. Happy 12th Fandomversary, my friend! For someone who’s been reading your words since 2012, it feels incredibly special to finally get to share this space with you. 🏳️‍🌈💜

[willinglyghoulified]

The Plotholes of the Elven Lore

As a fanfic writer in the Fallout and Dragon Age fandoms, I've been balls-deep in the Veilguard game and all the Elven lore I can find. I planned on writing an origin story of the Evanuris two years ago and held off until the next game came out (and I'm glad I did). BUT. There's a two things so far that are making me question a lot about the Elven history.

Firstly, in Bellara's personal quests, her brother somehow got in touch with a Forgotten One called Anaris. Anaris brainwashed her brother with a magical mask in order to help him create a physical body somehow by killing innocents that he promised "ascension." My question is: how in the world did he come in contact with Anaris if he was in the Void? And what the heck is the Void? All I know is it's not the Fade, and even the Evanuris would be driven mad if they spent too long there. Mortals couldn't survive there.

Secondly, what happened to the other gods? Solas mentioned a few others in Veilguard when speaking to Elgar'nan, saying how they once created wonderful things for this world and "now they're gone." What happened to them? Did the remaining two gods kill ALL of the other Evanuris? I thought Solas locked all of them away, but only two escaped in Veilguard. Where's June? Sylaise? And all the others?

I suppose a lot of this I'll have to explain with context clues and theories. I've scoured the codex entries and the Wiki for more information and have taken notes, but I could have missed something. If anyone has any hidden gems I could have missed, I'd appreciate a link. ♥

[morihaus]

@profanetools tagged me in a tag game :)

describe one wip you’re planning to work on over the summer: my tesfest output has simultaneously been under my expectations and yet pretty much where i figured they'd be. i filled out what i'd like 2 do for each prompt and was quite happy with my ideas but i still have some i really really need to get a jump on... and even if its not done in time for tesfest i can always come back for em. anyway the next targets are "forgotten" about a certain emperor of tamriel's severed head and "teeth" which i had a really great sentence written about hunger and mundus but have not yet figured out how to expand it

recommend a book: the only thing ive been reading is moby dick. if you want to hear about the hidden gem ive been digging into over the summer im sorry to disappoint you. i've been reading about whales. i would not recommend it to the average person i'm doing this as part of a wider character research thing. would love to know more about the characters in the book and less about the length of a whale's skeleton if i'm being quite honest

recommend a fic: in the process of drawing @everybodyknows-everybodydies 's character kharish for artfight i dug into some writing on her and really really enjoyed this one abt mirabelle and fellow wizards... but if you dont want to read about restoration rearranging people's organs i highly recommend any fic involving kharish and colette on her blog. the greatest will-they won't-they in the history of tamriel

recommend music: firstly ive been getting a kick out of this site that lets you listen to radios of different countries in different time periods. been very handy during artfight. but as for specific songs that've been in my head lately:

The Theme from Big Wave by Tatsuro Yamashita

Stayed Away Too Long by The Littlest Man Band

Best Clockmaker on Mars by Sturgill Simpson

share a piece of advice: genuinely just writing myself a sentence for what I want to do with a piece has been an interesting and fun way of getting my writing brain in gear. you probably shouldn't wait weeks to start, admittedly. but it was fun to just put something down as a prompt to myself. got the ball rolling

tagging @everybodyknows-everybodydies bc i already did so why not <3 and @ayem can receive this in 2-3 business days, do as you please

[purehealthpulse]

A Pantry Powerhouse: My Experience with The Lost SuperFoods Book

With so much conflicting information about nutrition these days, it can be hard to know what to put on your plate. I was tired of fad diets and processed foods, and I craved a return to the wholesome, nutrient-dense ingredients our ancestors thrived on. That's when I stumbled upon The Lost SuperFoods book, a fascinating exploration of forgotten powerhouses from around the globe. Here's how this book has transformed my pantry and, more importantly, my health.

A Journey Through Forgotten Foods

The Lost SuperFoods isn't your typical recipe book. It's a historical and nutritional treasure trove, delving into the fascinating world of once-celebrated, but now forgotten, superfoods. From the protein-packed ninja superfood used by Japanese warriors to the gut-friendly probiotic favoured by Genghis Khan's Mongols, the book uncovers a forgotten bounty of nature's powerhouses. Each entry provides a captivating historical context, detailing how these foods were used by different cultures, alongside their impressive nutritional profiles. It's a journey through culinary history that's both informative and inspiring.

Unveiling the Powerhouse Potential in Your Pantry

One of the things I love most about The Lost SuperFoods is how it challenges us to rethink everyday ingredients. The book highlights the hidden potential of readily available staples like oats and lentils, showcasing their remarkable health benefits. It also introduces lesser-known powerhouses like chia seeds and moringa leaves, offering a variety of ways to incorporate them into your diet. Whether you're looking for a natural energy boost or a source of essential vitamins and minerals, The Lost SuperFoods provides a wealth of options, many of which can be easily found at your local grocer or health food shop.

Easy-to-Follow Recipes and Practical Tips

The Lost SuperFoods doesn't just tell you about these forgotten superfoods; it also shows you how to use them! The book is packed with delicious and easy-to-follow recipes that showcase the versatility of these ingredients. From hearty stews featuring ancient grains to refreshing smoothies bursting with antioxidants, there's something for every palate and dietary preference. Additionally, the book offers practical tips on storing these superfoods to maximize their shelf life and nutritional value.

A Long-Term Investment in Health

The Lost SuperFoods isn't a quick fix diet plan; it's a guide to incorporating long-term, sustainable changes to your diet. By focusing on nutrient-dense, forgotten superfoods, the book empowers you to nourish your body from the inside out. Since incorporating these ingredients into my meals, I've noticed a significant improvement in my overall well-being. I have more energy throughout the day, my digestion feels smoother, and I simply feel more vibrant.

In conclusion, The Lost SuperFoods is a must-have for anyone looking to revitalize their diet and embrace a more wholesome way of eating. It's a fascinating exploration of forgotten culinary gems, packed with practical tips, delicious recipes, and the knowledge to transform your pantry into a powerhouse of health. So, ditch the fad diets and rediscover the power of nature's forgotten treasures with The Lost SuperFoods!

[imnothinginparticular]

#finishedbooks The Inland Sea by Donald Richie. Ordered this exclusively for my trip to Kagawa. I really don't get out of Tokyo much but when I do I like to get some work of literature that corresponds to the place. I got Kawabata's "The Izu Dancer" for a ryokan trip to Izu peninsula or Tanazaki's "Makioka Sisters" for Kyoto back when I had a solo show there in 2012...and so it goes. Literary output is surprisingly slim in that immediate area as much reflection as the still nearly wave-less inland sea inspires. Historically it would of been somewhere around the Yayoi- Kofun period that the region would had of been of prominence some 1000 years before the Nara/Heian period where we begin to see literary output with the advent of kana syllables. So it was my favorite cultural critic on Japan's travel log I went with. As @johnsypal informed me there is a lot of overlap from "The Donald Richie Reader" sadly representing the only work on the master critic himself but the book still had so many gems most of which I was happy to read similar and this unchanged from my experience at the same of age in the same region from a similarly blue collar US area albeit 60 years apart. For myself and for what I read in Richie is a seeking of the forgotten as it still holds an unselfconscious candor that one can draw similarities. Where I feel most mourn the beauties of the dying, he of course finds the "lost" but understands it can only lie within the eye of its beholder. The result is a pragmatism that mirrors the Japan itself. The geographical disconnectedness is certainly felt containing about 3,000 islands. Richie writes, "The train passes a small boy playing with his dog in a field. The train goes through a long tunnel. It comes out. And there is another boy playing with a dog in another field. The two will never meet. A mountain lies between." A beautiful reverse haiku-like observation where one sees two aspects of the same thing...a connection certainly although hidden it is there, instead of the latter where two observations ordinarily thought incongruous join to reveal their single unity. To me haiku exists to record this apprehension of similarity that one can sense but not explain. Like Richie, I've gone to greater contexts that are always required in Japan but overwhelmingly the beauty of the area were just the people. Living here since 2006 I have never been to an area that was so generally warm sharing a sentiment Richie held 60 years prior and @lance harped on that I didn't believe till I experienced it. The difference was in the old people who all over share a general afforded directness after all the polite shufflings of youth and continuing false politeness in middle age. As an ikebana master, a medium generally reserved for middle/old age women I have a better than most experience. However, in Shikoku it was similar to what one finds in a Noh drama, where the character comes on to stage and directly tells you who they are, where they are going and why, they then spring it onto to you and from there remember you from that conversation on. As a dog owner in Tokyo experiences are hit or miss usually being absurdly told to pick up my dog's shit with a very evident bag full of my dog's shit already in hand. For someone raised by their grandparents holding tremendous respect, I am always amazed at how Tokyo old people really piss me off. Richie ends the book, "...I turned around and faced the sea. I don't care if I never go back." Many misunderstood this last line as he is actually referencing the US in favor of the Japan. We can't say the inland sea as he incidentally didn't go back for 40 years, a mistake I will not make.

[refabled]

after a long and fruitful life herding the cardeer, two-hundred years is more than enough time to have seen her path there to its sweet end. the shepherd's pie is meadow's latest ( and most fruitful ) attempt at finding a new-found purpose. see, people would always be hungry, and alone, and in need of safe place to lay their head. the small inn, with its cozy light and thick, woven rugs, is a hidden gem for those who most need the respite. it caters, in particular, to orphans and refugees –– the forgotten and lost. and while her handful of employees take care of the inn, meadow bustles about the bakery all morning. it's a simple, earnest ( perhaps even boring ) way to live –– she wouldn't want it any other way.

❝ it's not, ❞ she assures him, though her cheeks flash warmth in a way that suggests guilt. ❝ I just–– old habits, right? ❞ meadow leaves it at that. it'd be harder, she supposes, to imagine shen in her quaint little inn if he wasn't so... subdued in comparison to her memory of him. no, subdued isn't the right word. less sharp, maybe? he's rounded out some, softened in ways meadow can't help but appreciate.

❝ really? ❞ her brows lift in genuine surprise. she's not presumptuous enough to blush, imagining shen may mean his words in any sense other than the platonic. though her face does kindle with a small, private joy. ❝ well, you know I'd never presume anything, ❞ she explains, by way of apology. ❝ but... I'm happy to hear it. and I'm glad you keep coming back. I almost wondered if I should keep your room ready for you year-round. never know when you next might stop in, ❞ meadow teases.

her gaze drops to his-near empty cup. ❝ can I get you a refill? something to eat? I'm about to close up the bakery for the evening, but i've got a few hand pies and cinnamon rolls to spare. ❞ she reaches into the display case, pulling out a tray upon which three small, finely pleated meat pies sit. as she admires her handiwork, meadow pauses. ❝ you know, ❞ she broaches carefully, glancing up at shen through her feathered fringe. ❝ I've been wanting to hire someone to come play music or sing songs every now and then. if you're sticking around... well, I think everyone around here would really love to hear your voice. I know I would. ❞

STANDING  IN  THE  BAKERY,   it's a quaint life with a warmth about it so different to the shadows of the underdark  —  and does shen even remember his homeland?  not fully.  he's lived on the surface for longer than he'd ever existed beneath the rocky ground,  and the only thoughts he gives to his younger days are in self-reflection.  figuring out where his flaws may have arisen.  thinking of how an upbringing within such cruelty must have affected him,  even now. 

          ❝ is that the way you still see me? ❞  shen laughs,  nursing a cup of herbal tea on the counter.  that laugh is still much the same,  though softer,  less exuberant.  once he included would be roaming the land and doing whatever with whoever,  but would anyone believe that a person can eventually tire of the things they do in  ( and out )  of the bedroom?  eventually those emotionless lays run stale,  purely a vice for the body while the mind is trained enough to operate automatically,  each movement pre-choreographed,  tried before,  performed again a hundred times over.  one can have too much of a good thing. 

          oh,  he still does it  —  a primal urge and habit still steers him in certain directions from time to time  —  but not nearly with the well-hidden desperation and youthful lust which he once possessed.  ❝ i suppose that makes sense. ❞

          lightened eyes rise from the cup's golden contents,  swimming with plants and honey,  to meet meadow's heterochromic gaze.  shall i tell you it's just for the food and ambiance?  a younger shen may have teased.  or,  he may have leant over the counter,  moved hair aside with caged hand to reveal her ear in which to hum compliments and heated nothings.  i come back here hoping that one day i'll see you unclothed among your bedsheets–  that is not him,  now.  raising the cup,  he takes a brief sip,  casual and relaxed.  ❝ i come back to see you.  truthfully,  i'm surprised that much isn't obvious. ❞

[miomines]

draconic instincts

ok this is basically meili vs zhongli. dragon mom fights in ur honour.

writing fight scenes is very difficult. this is the longest thing I've written on this blog so far. I mean im happy with it but im much better at just. softer things. anyways here's angry dragon mom

part 1 | interlude | interlude 2 | part 3

Her precious little gem is at home. They are safe and happy. They will stay that way.

Truly, Meili thought her old friend had outgrown these behaviors. She had watched him as he mellowed out over the years. She remembers the Archon War and she's sad to say that this behavior has been here a long time. Perhaps she just wanted to believe in him. If her little gem never crossed her path, she knows, without a doubt, she would still be supporting him.

"Morax," Meili says to the air. Behind her is the shrine made to the Divine Creator, a personal shrine built by her old friend. Her rage is simmering, nearly boiling over yet she still keeps a calm disposition. There's no doubt in her mind that this encounter will turn into a battle eventually.

"Meili." She turns her head and watches the Ex-Geo Archon approach. She says nothing, not yet, as she gazes at him with impassive eyes. Meili steps down from the shrine's entry, breathing deeply to keep her rage from exploding.

She has conflicting feelings about the man in front of her, a fondness she currently resents. Zhongli was her dear friend, one she viewed as a brother. This is not Zhongli, not her old friend, but Morax. A fool who harms a child under the guise of worship to the Divine Creator. The man in front of her is Morax, a dragon who has hunted her little gem down.

"Morax, my dearest friend," she drawls, her tone full of forced cheer and friendliness. "You're such a loyal acolyte to our Divine Creator that you attack a helpless child who has merely existed." She grins as she cocks her head to the side, calmy stepping closer. "Would Guizhong be proud of your behavior? Or has your mind deluded itself to believe that she would join you?"

Meili is delighted to see that he takes the bait, his eyes narrowing as his voice lowers to a growl. "You know nothing of the situation," Morax hisses. It doesn't do anything to growing, sharp grin. "You know nothing of Guizhong."

"Morax," she tuts. "You forget that I was there. You forget that I fought alongside her." She narrows her eyes as she crosses her arms. "She loved our Divine Creator, but she also loved humanity. A child with a visage similar to the Divine One. She would see it as a blessing."

"That child is a criminal, guilty for the crimes of impersonation."

"Really?" Meili taps a finger to her chin, expression thoughtful. "That's strange. From what I'm aware of, the child was attacked on sight." She turns her head to stare into Morax's eyes. She sees the mirrored rage in his eyes that reflect her own, although for very different reasons. "Hard to be guilty of a crime if you didn't even impersonate anyone, no?"

Morax lets out a low growl, his posture shifting as if he were a predator hunting prey. If she were a lesser adeptus, a weaker dragon, she would be cowed into submission. Something that he was likely counting on. Unfortunately for him, she is not a weaker, lesser adeptus. 

"Really, Morax," she yawns. "I know you. We have grown together. If you think I will be scared of a little display of dominance, then you forget yourself." Meili doesn't bat an eye as he summons his spear, staring at her old friend with hidden disdain.

"I believe it is you," he says, spear twirling in his hand before he points it at her. "That has forgotten themselves."

"If you think I'm going to be scared of the man who fell off a cliff by trying to impress our dear Guizhong, then you're mistaken." Meili barks out a laugh, her grin sharp as she finally lets her boiling rage consume her. "I'd dare say that she would be disappointed in you. A child blessed by the Divine One and you simply attack? At your core, you're still just a brute."

"Silence!" He bellows and attacks. She steps away from the spear with ease. Morax attacks in a practiced motion, one she's seen many times over the many millennia she's been alive. It makes it easier to dodge. "You know nothing!"

Meili lets out a loud laugh, dodging his attacks with his spear gracefully as if she were dancing. "You're just proving it to me! Morax, you're truly just a brutish fool who lives in his own delusions!" She wonders how long she can go without summoning her weapon. It's almost amusing how determined he currently is to attack her. "Tell me then! Tell me the information that I'm missing!"

She dances away from his spear, continuing her speech as if this were a normal conversation. "That so-called criminal is a child! To both you and me! What have they done to be hunted down like an animal?!"

Morax narrows his eyes at her, realization lighting up in his eyes. "You know where they are," he hisses. "You are harboring a criminal, the impersonator of our Most Esteemed Creator." 

"I am harboring a child who has been hunted down for merely existing." My child, something inside her croons. She hushes it. Now is not the time. 

"That impersonator ruins Our Divinity's name!" Morax spat. "They are a criminal and they must face divine punishment!"

"Are you even hearing yourself?!" This is who she supported for six thousand years?? "The Divine One is kind, they would be disgusted by your actions!"

"Which is why we are dealing with the impersonator ourselves!" He growls. "The impersonator refuses to accept the blame and continues to run from their punishment! As loyal acolytes of the Divine Creator, we act to protect them!"

There's not getting through to him, is there? Around six thousand years of friendship, of family, and now all she can do is to let it go. Morax is not her friend, her family, but someone who wishes to harm her little gem. 

"The one you call the impersonator, I have taken them as my child," she states. Meili narrowly dodges a swipe of his spear aimed at her legs. "And I will not let you touch them."

"You are a traitor against the Divine One."

"And you are an idiotic, brutish fool."

With a snap of her wrist, her catalyst is summoned to hover beside her. She's unamused when Morax barks out a laugh. Truly arrogant. Taking a seat with the Seven Archons has changed him and Meili can't say that it was for the better.

"You are a healer, Mei," he drawls. "You do not have a chance in a fight, especially against me, don't you realize that?" 

Meili simply grins, letting the feeling of geo flow through her. "I learned how to heal during the Archon War, don't you remember, dearest friend?"

Morax rolls his eyes, lunging to attack her. She ducks underneath the spear, places a construct just behind his feet as she circles behind him. He turns and tries to lunge, however his feet get caught on the construct and he stumbles.

"I learned how to heal because you were an idiot."

An elbow to his face.

"I learned because you needed a healer."

A kick to his knees.

"It does not mean I'm unable to fight~" 

His legs swept out from underneath him

"It'll be good for you to remember that I've lived as long as you have, dear friend." Meili grins and takes the spear (Vortex Vanquisher, that emits power through her) from his stunned grasp. Her smile screams hostility, aimed at him in a predatory and sharp manner. "I am not as weak and helpless as you like to think I am~"

Morax attempts to stand, to right himself, but Meili shoves him down with a kick to the gut. She twirls the spear in her hand, letting her vision sharpen the spearhead as she points it right to his throat.

"Meili, you are the fool for believing in that impostor," he spits as he glares up at her.

She laughs and pushes the spear so it just slightly pokes into his skin. "You are a fool for believing that the All-Creator would wish harm on a child." 

"A criminal."

"Oh, enlighten me, old friend. How do you know of their crimes?" She asks, sarcasm dripping from her mouth as she increases the pressure to his throat.

"The Golden Ichor does not run from their veins," he drawls. As if he were explaining something simple to a child. "A mere mortal playing God. Dearest sister," the spear digs in further and he hisses. "Do you truly wish to protect such a disgrace?"

"You do not get to call me that anymore, Morax," she spat. "I am ashamed of you, I am ashamed of our past bond and I wish to have nothing to do with you." She stares at him, hate flowing through her as she views this fallen archon.

"When the Divine Creator has forsaken you, I will be there to grant you pity and to destroy that pest that started it all."

Meili scoffs. He will not even breathe the same air as her little gem if she has any say in it. Her precious child. "You will not bother my little one, or I will rain hellfire upon you." They will be safe and happy and they'll cook together each day.

(--she takes the cutting board into her hands)

"You will see it my way one day, Mei."

(Near one of the sides was a shiny metallic colour)

"You will see that pest is not worth protecting."

(and she brought it closer to her face for inspection.)

"The Divine Creator will accept you back,"

("Meili!")

"Since they are kind,"

(Without a second thought, she drops the board back into the water.)

"But I will never forget how you've chosen a criminal over the Divine One."

It clicks in her mind. The small knick of a knife against her little one's finger when they were cooking. The golden residue on the cutting board, only to be distracted by her little gem with their new slime friends.

Oh it makes so much sense! Meili knew her little one was special, but she didn't know how special they were! 

"Such kindness," she drawls. The most loyal acolyte cannot even recognize the same God he claims to worship. Pathetic. "Unfortunately, I will not be taking it."

Meili places pressure on his chest, pressing him to the ground with her foot as she brings the spear to her side. "When the Divine One has forsaken you, I will not grant you pity. I will be there to laugh."

Morax scowls, going to respond but interrupted to a stomp to the gut.

"I fought as support in the Archon War for you. I did not wish for the responsibility, did not want a seat with the Seven." She leans down to stare him directly in the eyes and whispers, "you had an easier time in the war due to my help.

I would have won that seat if I wanted to."

Morax looks away and she takes that as victory. Meili keeps the spear in hand as she steps off and turns with a flourish. Before she descends down the hill, she turns back to the other adeptus.

"If I see you anywhere near my house, or near my little gem, I will tear you apart, limb from limb." She tilts her head and covers her mouth with a hand. As if she were shy, as if she weren't threatening an old archon. "That's a promise, Morax. Stay away from my family."

Meili turns her head to look off into the distance and hums. "Mondstadt is beautiful this time of year, I've heard. Send word to Barbatos that I will visit him soon. I need to have a chat with him…"

She smiles, glancing back at her old friend. Her new enemy. The hunter of her child. He doesn't deserve to know about her little gem. He does not deserve forgiveness.

"Goodbye, Morax. I truly despise you. I hope our paths never cross again."

With the Vortex Vanquisher in hand, she leaves. Perhaps she'll mount the spear on the wall...

[knightofthegarden]

⚔️ Intro post ⚔️

Greetings! My name is Aster Gardenia, and I am a knight, as well as a family friendly EN vtuber who streams on twitch!

I stream retro/indie games, card games, ttrpgs, and art! I would be honored if you wished to learn more about me from this post or any of the links on my page.

I generally stream 6 hours a week - usually Tuesdays and Wednesdays, 7-9:30pm CST. (Chat makes me do push-ups, it's great.) Links:

Twitch

Bluesky

Youtube

Twitter

Bandcamp

Art tag: #artsters (for art of me, art I made is #asters+art)

Art credits can be found here (also linked on my sidebar)

My lore can be watched in video form here, but in brief - I am a knight from a long forgotten kingdom, whose sovereign did not wish for me to die fighting a hopeless war, and instead put me into a magical sleep that would preserve me until peace returned, whereupon I would wake and live a life for myself - as thanks for the years lived in service to them.

I refer to my audience as "my knights", because since coming to this time, you have all taught me so much about knighthood - about helping and supporting others, and building and strengthening a community. I want to use my streams and the platform I have on social media to support you, your successes, and your happiness - whether that be through sharing lessons I've learned in my life, introducing you to a hidden gem that you may not have discovered otherwise, or just by being very sweet and goofy and enthusiastic. Thank you for reading, and may your efforts bring you glory.

[johnlock-hell-resident]

A brief little oneshot inspired by this:

"Headcannon: Mike Stanford wasn't in Series 2&3 because he will only come back in Series 5 when John is in a relationship with Sherlock and talks to Mike and says 'I'm thinking about marriage' and Mike responds with 'You're the second person to say that to me today' and John will ask 'Who was the first?' AND CUT to Sherlock buying an engagement ring" - Original Prompter Unknown

* This is not my prompt! *

The Big Question

The sun shone through the windows of Oscar's, a bar several blocks down from Baker Street. It's frequent patrons usually varied from avid football fans to old, tired men with high stress levels. Dr. John Watson lied closer to the latter on the scale. He needed an escape. Not forever, just a few hours impersonating an everyman to clear his head. If there was anyone in John's life who could help him do that, it was Mike Stanford. He was nice enough as most gents go, though he had that all-too-common satisfaction with the dull and the pointless. John couldn't be a further contrast. He always needed something to race his heart to keep him sane. Even still, Mike's company was appreciated. Especially now. John turned to Mike and spoke what he had been dwelling on for... it must've been months now.

"I'm thinking of... I'm thinking I'm going to propose", John sighed in relief, releasing the words he had caged in his mind. He hadn't said this to anyone, he was afraid to, not until he was absolutely sure he was ready. He had done this all before once, only then he was in a relationship with an assassin.

Mary.

She was the best thing that could've happened to him at the time. Sherlock was dead and he was more alone than he had ever been. More so than after the war. He had lost his life's purpose then, but now he had lost the love of his life. He couldnt find anything worth believing in. Not after believing in Sherlock. He hoped and wished with every breath in him for his friend to be alive. He wanted to move forward, and like a listening angel, Mary walked into his life. She was lovely, she was sweet. She had that very same spunk Sherlock did, adventure living in her with every beat of her heart. He loved her, he promised his life to her, but then... Sherlock rose from the dead.

It was a miracle! If John had prayed for a Corvet, he now believed he'd wake up one morning and there it'd be, sitting in his driveway glittering in the sun. Regardless, he had moved on and he was ready to start his new life with Mary. Sherlock was still, and would always be, his best friend. It hadn't taken long to forgive him. John didnt need to imagine what life without Sherlock was like, and the memories still wet his eyes. It had dawned on John too little too late that he had made a terrible mistake, sitting at a pale, lace-brimmed table between the love of his life and his bride. No matter the joy his wife brought him, his heart still pledged itself to Sherlock. Just when the two had come to peace with their own lives, together yet still so distant, Mary attended an appointment, you might say.

An appointment in samara.

Then he was alone. Without his partner, with a daughter to raise, and his best friend shut in his own disturbed mind. But, as per usual without fail, they saved each other- Sherlock's rescue being more emotional than literal. With time and a surrender of guilt, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson at long last shared their visceral longing for one another.

Oh... it had seemed a lifetime since then. John could hardly imagine where he'd be now had Sherlock not remained by his side through it all. Involving John in his adventures made all the difference in his livelihood. Not to mention his assisting in parenting Rosie.

John had been in love before, obviously, but the way he felt with Sherlock was unlike anything he had experienced before. He felt protected and loved in a way that he was unable to feel for himself. He could find himself in the stickiest of circumstances and he could know that his consulting detective wouldn't be far behind. Above all, he felt at peace. Nothing had to be hidden or repressed anymore. Soulmates was a fantastical term, but it was the closest John could come to describing Sherlock and him.

And now here he was. John was prepared to commit the rest of his finite time to the man he loved. He only had to figure out how to ask.

At John's admission, Mike paused. And then he chuckled.

"You know, you're the second person to say that to me today"

"...Who was the first?"

---

"Too bulky... too small... too flashy...too rusty- good lord! Do you have any wedding bands a shade other than brass?!"

"Ohhhh I read you loud and clear good sir, you are obviously a man of exquisite tastes!", the jeweler flushed nervously. This gentleman's abrasive, clear-cut manner did not make him an easy customer.

"One would think a shop primarily selling engagement rings would have a larger selection", the stranger replied curtly.

An uncomfortable laugh was his only response.

The mysterious man studied every gem and trinket with merciless judgement. No ring was suitable. Only as he began to turn to leave did his eye catch the perfect ring. The ordinary shopper would never have noticed it. This simple silver band was practically invisible amongst the glittering, bedazzled others surrounding it. It was classy and uncomplicated; the exact ring that his partner would appreciate.

"I'll take it."

The jeweler eyed the bland item suspiciously.

"That one?... Are you sure?"

"Very."

Relieved he had found something to his liking, the jeweler scuttled to the cash register before the other man would change his mind. "Alright now, that will be... do I know you from somewhere?"

"No"

"You sure? Because you look awfully familiar-"

"- noone you know, I'm sure. Do you take credit cards?", the customer dismissed swiftly.

"Oh! How could I have forgotten!", the jeweler laughed, "I've seen you in the papers! Didn't expect to see you here, mister. Especially without the hat."

"And, there it is", the other sighed, annoyed.

"I've got to say I love your hat-"

"Notmyhat", he seethed.

"Oh, forgive me, I'm babbling. That will be £5,000- Sherlock Holmes"

[nightwingvixen23]

Pairing : DamiJon fanfic in their later teens

Little Vixen Side Note : Wrote this piece a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep and came across the dark version of Cant Help Falling In Love; which is what I wrote it to

Cheeecckkk ittttt ouuutttt

A speeding bullet of black, yellow and green. He blew ahead of me in a chase throughout the thick of winter. Skeletal remains of my heart began to drop, all signs of epic violence tittering around us in pursuance of the two malefactors we had just minutes prior unmasked who's carnage stained hands were laying hell into the legs of a screaming woman, in attempts at victimizing her to a two-sided brutality. And though be as it may, with her browbeaten crying, this ambushed petite woman of golden curls had torn like a vicious feline to free herself from the drooling lock jaws of famished wolves refusing to die in this wasted city. Then she'd stopped. She'd turned her head towards us. And it was with that act of final defeat, the deadlock of her blue eyes onto Damians, that had been a tethering of empathetic steel.

In that moment, I'd witnessed the city burn within his eyes. A revival of Pompeii, humans choking on ash; and it was by his hand that carried out was this biblical apocalypse. I mean, you can only stand to see so many weeds in your garden before getting tired of yanking them out by hand and simply just mowing over it all to start fresh.

I'd numbly watched Robin free the woman who'd scurried down the dark street (purse and shoe forgotten like a broken Cinderella) and analyzed where the rules of these unbidden streets lingered any longer ? A wasted land left starved of God's Love long ago, and so us as his children are outcasts in regards to just how mortality works. This is The Devils playground now where we've adapted into calling out Love, not by the blossoming virtue of a budding rose, but by the cut of it's petalless thorns; where the only splash of red comes at the blooming of our own blood. 

What else to do with pain than to make it our art form, our very own self worth. To turn it into a purpose and to make that purpose something beautiful.

⏳...⌛

A park.

Swings creaking with a glacial slow breeze as ghost children play games on the teeter totter. White fluff born from clouds shroud lost personal belongings from humans long past through, and will overnight, do it's best, to shroud the two bodies lay dead 'mid this park's jogging trail.

He stands between them; The Sympathizer, a crimson splattered god in which no Olympian can put a name to crowned in injustices and liberalizing duties.

Crows form a murder beneath these dark skies, dancing and entangling above our heads. Something cruel. Something elegant. Something in harmony with what I behold here and now; because somewhere off in Gotham City this man, that I've fallen in a surprise trust fall for, remarkably kept a young woman home-free tonight. Not from duty. But from instinct.

"Robin.."

He turns to me.

He sheaths his sword; and he smiles.

He smiles at me through tears.

He smiles at me through red blood.

He smiles at me through falling snow.

He smiles at me through the antagonism; and that has to be the most beautiful thing I think I've ever seen.

Regardless; i still wonder what chamber door, dusted with years of abandonment, had finally been gifted a hand to open it's rusted impasse come with what we'd witnessed tonight. What poisonous blend leaks out this door to flood his veins and pour fever into his eyes; clouding his vision against a better form of judgment on justice that has two miserable assed men, twice his size, laying slaughtered like pigs with him standing noble between them both ?

Even though the winter wonderland park is dead quiet, I've never in all my existence heard so much noise. So much all at once while staring at Damian, just now realizing that he'd removed his mask long ago: now raven's stare with deadly ink eyes in jealous passion at the too black fullness of that jet hair filled up in a shaven bun. Cat's whine in envy at the feline-like features of this clandestine face. Jade gems rust in sad defeat before such green eyes. He's the pristine vision of Talia al Ghul (nothing about him is Bruce anymore aside from the cut of his jaw) housing 9 lives amidst 100 secrets.

"I love you," like the many times I've voiced it before, it gushes from me all soft and rushed.

"You love me? You love me?? Don`t," and there is coldness in his stare. Floating all the while amongst the arctic, I've struck the iceberg. Sinking under. Cracked in two. And I've got to say, the embrace is haunting.

"Why."

"It is true that the lion coddled the lamb beneath its purring chin, bustling with a protective big paw. Be as it may, unbeknownst to the onlookers, once turned away; the lion gorged on the lamb. Feasted upon its frail body only to lick at its bloodied carcass and keep it close by. Not in memory, but as a trophy; for the lion`s former coddling of the lamb was nothing more than animalistic curiosity.

"Do you not realize Jon that we are all animals, you and I ? Instinct drives us, some however are more lethal, some run in packs, some run alone, and others...just….run." green devours me. Green tears through my flesh. Green swallows me whole. Perhaps I am but being gorged upon by the starving lion.

His lips curl into a sadistic sneer despite the tear tracks on his face and I'm all but floored by the fabric skin of this demon that everyone's tried to give a halo, "I will rip you apart, little lamb."

"Then by all means," I grab his hand to wrap it around my throat, it's cold but his grip is tight and his lips on mine are hot, "take my neck to slaughter."

Five fingers tremble in innocence against my throat; a golden token of humanity, honesty and clemeity. Making my wonder

just who really here is the lion and who is the lamb? Then he bares his teeth, rabid and wild. I bare my teeth back, standing ground in the middle of our Eden turned Jungle. Then our lips meet again. Our teeth clash. We fight to force the other into submission though neither backs down.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe, he is but a lamb that learned to evolve amongst the lions. And could it be that I am but a lion having learned to secret himself amongst sheep? Maybe that's why him and I fight more than find common ground, for the foolish costumes we were taught to wear in order to cover up what rightful creatures God bore us as.

We are different and the same whether it be his purity or my hidden away corruption.

The volcanic eruption of his anger and soothing temperament of my ocean meet. 

They form an isle.

A match to an ignition causes an inevitable explosion. But, sometimes, that match plus ignition can give birth to fireworks rather than a bomb; we've just gotta be patient and count to 3. I count to 2 before seeing the spark. And right at 3 comes the crackle then pop, a raining shower of diabolical color transcending the stark black sky.

Who ever would of known that 4th of July in the middle of December would  look so much like Heaven waging war with Hell.

                                               ⌛...⏳

No one is home execpt for me to answer the chipper knock at the front door on the next sun smothered day, and the florist that greets me is happy to do so.

In my hands I'd received my gift of a crimson rose bouquet;

and while up in my room i'd read the card written on with an elegant gothic flourish:

                     My Little Lamb.

These three words made the wool wearing prey in me seek sanctuary, and yet, caused the dagger toothed predator in me to roar.

 *END

[lady-snavely]

Sands of Time: Part One

Chance Encounters

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Fem!OC

Warnings: mentions of death, swearing, mutual pining, all the fluff

A/N: reblogs are super appreciated and, if anyone’s interested, I’ll start a tag list

In the innocent years of childhood, Jade first met him. It wasn't a long meeting, only an hour or two, in fact. She had been playing on her own in a nearby forest when she felt the desire to wander. Her wings glittered as she hopped from sun pocket to sun pocket. Her laughter, loud and jovial, filled her ears until the sounds of a boy crying had caught her attention and she quieted. It was the curiosity of a child that sent her straying that much further from her family home.

Not too far from where she'd been playing, Jade found the boy. From what she could tell he had tripped and skinned his knee. She watched him curiously from behind a tree for a few heartbeats before that curiosity pulled her further. Her father's warning of Humans was the farthest thing from her mind as she approached the boy.

The boy had dried his tears quickly when he first saw her before staring, mouth agape. "Are you real?" He'd managed to whisper, awestruck.

A smile danced on her lips and her nose crinkled when she giggled. "Are you?" Jade had countered easily.

The boy frowned and stood, his injured knee forgotten as his own curiosity blossomed. "But you have wings and your ears are pointy and you're flying!"

It was then that her father's warning of Humans rushed back to her. But he was little and, according to Jade's oldest sister, Human children made up all sorts of stories that their parents brushed off as make believe. "Wanna see a magick trick?" Jade asked in reply, settling her bare feet gently in the grass. The boy nodded his head eagerly. "Close your eyes and count to ten," she instructed.

When he did she concentrated. It wasn't a painful transformation, only slightly uncomfortable as her Faerie wings shrank back into her shoulder blades and she grew an inch or two in height. Her ears rounded out and became more proportional. Jade's transformation to her Humanoid form completed just as a resounding "TEN!" echoed around her.

"How did you do that!" The boy hurried around Jade in wonder. He poked at her back and picked at her hair trying and failing to find where everything was hidden. "Where did they go?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you." Human's most commonly greet with a handshake, her mother had told her once so she stuck her hand out. "Call me Jade. Like the stone."

The boy took Jade's hand with only slight hesitation. "Kuroo Tetsuro but my friends just call me Tetsu-chan."

"Tetsu-chan." Jade smiled. She wasn't sure what to think, what with his name sounding like honey in her ears and her heart leaping like wildfire in her chest.

For being children they were surprisingly content with sitting in the woods and talking. Sure they played some too but they mostly talked. Jade told Tetsu-chan all sorts of stuff about her people that he believed were just stories but were real. She told him about the time her oldest sister, Nyra, tried to run away with a wood nymph only to be brought back after a couple of days by the nymph's mother. She told him about the time when she was littler when her parents first found out she possessed the ability to wield weather magick like her mother. Tetsu-chan had clung to every word, mesmerized by the idea of Fae and what they could do.

When Tetsuro's father burst through the trees Jade had been so frightened that her concentration faltered and she shifted back to her Fae form. Instinct alone had her fleeing.

"Tetsuro, you were supposed to be fetching water." The voice boomed through the trees, anger and disappointment evident by the man's stance alone.

"I made a new friend, Papa! She's – " Tetsuro's smile disappeared when he didn't see her "-Jade?"

Almost half a mile away Jade was alighting on solid ground again. Her ears, once again pointy, twitched at the sound of her name, still heard clearly despite the distance. How badly she wanted to go back to him; to at least say goodbye to Tetsu-chan; to see his smile once more. Her chest ached in unfamiliar longing.

Jade's father had not taken her meeting with the Human boy well. The Human always pays the price he had explained when he had come back home with blood on his hands.

It would be the first time Jade cried over the loss of Human life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Half a century passed before they crossed paths again. Still considered a preteen by Faerie folk, Jade had yet to leave her family. She was doing the washing in the stream not too far from their new home when she heard a brother and sister approaching on the opposite bank. Her transformation from Fae to Humanoid form took but a few seconds.

Though they were loud as they jumped into the stream she thought little of them as she hung the washing to dry. It wasn't the first time someone had come along to swim in the stream, it wasn't horribly deep and it was partially shaded to boot. The pair ignored her as she planted herself under a tree to read and wait for the sun to work its magick.

"Tetsuro, leave her alone!" A scolding voice disrupted Jade's reading some time later.

Tetsuro. Now, that was a name she hadn't heard in quite a long time. Curiously, she peered around the trunk of the tree. Though he was trying to hide in the brambles nearby Jade spotted him quickly. "Hello, Tetsu-chan," she greeted with a wave.

He stood to his full height, approaching Jade with a frown. "Do we know each other?" He wondered.

"Oh, forgive me, I overheard your sister, I presume-" Jade gestured to the girl still in the stream "-call for you just a moment ago. I'm Jade."

"Like the gem." Tetsuro smiled.

Jade masked her shock with a laugh. "Like the gem," she repeated. The smile and remark were just the same as they had been then too.

"Your washing is going to take a while to dry, why don't you join us?" Tetsuro suggested.

"Thank you but I just started a new book." She held her book up for emphasis, grimacing in apology.

Tetsuro sat against the tree just out of eyesight. "I don't know how to read," he admitted quietly, embarrassed.

"Maybe I could teach you." The suggestion was out of her mouth before intuition told her to stay quiet.

"Is it a good story?"

Jade grinned down at the pages she'd reread a handful of times now. "I think it is," she decided to say.

Tetsuro inched closer, his shoulder brushing Jade's as he peered at the book in her lap. "Just looks like a bunch of scribbles."

Jade ran an affectionate hand over the open page before nodding. "In a way they are but they have meaning and put together the way they are they make up the story." She glanced sidelong at him. "Would you like me to read it to you?"

After some time Jade stopped reading to check on the washing. Tetsuro was disappointed when she told him she would be heading home now that it was done. However he had gone back to swim with the promise to come back in a few days. Though his presence had shook her, somewhere in Jade's heart she was thrilled at seeing him again. Unfortunately she didn't see him again while they lived in that cottage and so said nothing to her parents of her run in with the strangely familiar boy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When she heard the name again, it was from a weeping mother cradling a small bundle in her arms. The plague that had swept through the country had taken him as an infant.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Centuries passed, yet with the passing of time she never forgot about the boy with the scraped knee, the boy by the stream and the baby taken too soon. How could she when that longing she first felt when she ran from his father all those years ago was ever present when he wasn't.

In the new life she created for herself, she was a healer in the castle of the king. He was a tyrannical man, feared by his people and family alike. The queen stood in stark contrast to her husband. Loved by anyone she came in contact with and Jade was no exception. Queen Hana was polite and remembered names; remembered the little things. She often visited Jade, turning to her for comfort both as healer and friend.

On one such occasion, she had entered Jade's chambers in tears. She was with child. At first Jade had been elated by the news until the queen was pleading for something, anything that would take care of the baby.

Normally Jade didn't bat an eye when someone came to her requesting the simple solution. Yet for some reason there was a desperation, not unlike the queen's, that drove her to argue the logic. They deliberated for the better part of an hour before the queen had used her status to demand what she desired.

Jade had stood and gone to her supply shelves in silent reluctance. In the back corner of one of the shelves, hidden among healing plants and medicines, was the concoction she took in her hands.

"Remember, just two drops in your goblet each night for a week should you decide it's truly what you want." Jade passed the queen the jar with a pained smile. "If not, you saw where the jar goes. I won't say a word either way."

In the end the queen had given birth to a boy. Her fear of how her husband would have the child raised had brought her back to Jade's chambers just a few weeks after the birth.

"I've made a terrible mistake," the queen hunched over her sleeping child. Tears spilled from her eyes. "I should've used the medicine you gave me."

As much as it pained her, Jade moved silently to her shelves just as she had all those months ago. "It should only take a drop or two on your finger and letting him suckle it to help put him to sleep." When the queen frowned Jade nodded and placed the jar in her friends hand, squeezing just enough to let Hana know she was with her before whispering, "It will be painless, like falling into a deep sleep."

The queen was quiet for a few heartbeats before nodding. "You never asked about his name, you know."

It was Jade's turn to frown. The hair on the back of her neck rose with the sudden slice of worry that coursed in her veins. "Why would I ask about the prince's name? Is he not named after his father?"

"He doesn't have my husband's name." The queen smiled triumphantly though tears still glistened in her eyes. "Not officially anyway. He carries my family name and we named him after my grandfather."

Head swimming with questions Jade had fled the castle that night. She knew the queen's lineage but needed answers all the same. How and why was this Human coming into her life for moments and days at a time? Why did the death of a Human make her chest ache so?

The news swept the kingdom, reaching her two days later. Prince Tetsuro was dead.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A millennia of research yielded no definitive answers for Jade but there was no denying Kuroo Tetsuro was in a reincarnation cycle. In most instances it was a quarter century or so before he was brought back to the world. Sometimes it was longer than that before he and Jade crossed paths again. Even fewer instances allowed them more than a day or two of interaction.

In every case he was Human. In every case but the first Jade hid the truest parts of herself. She beat around the bush about her family and where she was from. She was sure that, one of these times, he would remember something, anything, from his past lives. There was no telling what would happen if he did or what he would remember.

Nyra didn't understand the infatuation surrounding the Human boy or the sudden interest in reincarnation. She'd made herself clear on that after Jade had reluctantly come to the family home after one of the longer stretches she'd had with Kuroo.

She was glad when they ran into each other again that she still passed for being in her early twenties. He'd courted her and after some time asked for her hand. The ceremony had been small and intimate. Then, after spending his early twenties with her by his side he had gone to war only to come back in a box. As much as the loss had hurt, Jade hadn't been surprised. It was the only reason she'd insisted she hadn't wanted kids.

Still she had spent the better part of three days holed up in the local library, a building standing four stories tall and spanning almost half a city block, waist deep in books. Nyra had been tasked with dragging her sleep deprived sister back to the family home where she laid into her about how reckless she was being over some stupid Human.

They didn't speak to each other for the better part of a century.

M.List | Next

[beatingeverygameonmame-blog]

F.A.Q.

Why are you "Beating Every Game On Mame"?

Why is the Sky blue? Aha! It actually isn't!

🤔 Hmmm, I'm playing all these games again because they are my core, my being.

I grew up with Arcades, have a deep passionate love for them. Beyond the causal fleeting curiosity many have for those dusty old cabinets. The sound, the visuals.

Another reason is it's a fun nerdy challenge for myself. I'm also excited to discover a world of weird and bizarre games I know I've never ever seen.

Here's another reason. I can't find anywhere else on line a detailed chronicled compendium of every Mame game beaten with proof.

Kinda, thought it would be cool to try and do. I often have these dumb ass kind of ideas. There's literally thousands of MAME games. Chances are I'll die before I beat everyone of them...but why not try!

What do you define as "beating"?

When the credits roll baby!! Some of the more bizarre or even broken games won't even have an "ending" I imagine - regardless I will be recording my efforts. So perhaps you can judge if I beat it or not. You'll be able to see. I'll be providing proof remember!

Also, a lot of people now retro game because it is the cool thing to do. The kids are down with it. Collecting a world of retro games to display on YouTube videos, yet never actually playing them, let alone beating them. Such disrespect to these gems from a forgotten era. I'm leading the charge. A retro gamer who actually plays and beats his retro games.

What proof will you provide of beating these games you big fat man?

My YouTube channel here. Solely set up for the purpose of providing proof of completion. I record the intro, to get my fresh reactions. Mid way through the game, and the "end" of the title. And yes, I plan to do this for every game I beat....before I die.........

Why are you emulating and not seeking out every one of these long defunct and discontinued Arcade Cabinets? Many of which exclusively exist only abroad?

Errr....

How many "coins" and "continues" will you be using?

If I'm going to even pretend I will have the time to be able to beat every single arcade game on mame, I'm going to have to reduce the friction.

The aim is to beat every game, tell you about the more bizarre and strange moments within each game and give you an overview. The aim isn't to make an already impossibly difficult task even more difficult.

I'm using as many Coins and continues as I need to. Or this will be, quite simply unachievable. Ok?

You've upset me now. I want an orange juice.

You know you can't beat every MAME arcade game right? No mortal man is capable of such a feat you fool!!

Mortal you say?? 🤔

Will you reviewing these games?

If I'm beating them, I may as well! A simple five star rating and a few words? Pointing out what games you need to seek out etc etc. The hidden gems. Weird unusual sections of games..some of which may have never even been seen before. I will also be providing Three Fun Facts for each game! 💡I've just decided... So yea, reviews for every game I beat. Because quite honestly, I love you.

So are you beating every game on Mame? Or just the arcade game?

Well MAME is a Multiple Arcade Machine Emulator so I'm beating the arcade machines. All the other random stuff being added that isn't from the arcade? I throw away like unwanted TRASH. Saying that though, if i do ever beat these damn arcade games when I'm 86 years old. I will probably try and finish off the rest 👍🏾

Will you be showing your big fat face on camera?

I don't plan to, the idea is just to document proof of the games being beat. No one wants to see my mug in the corner. However for special games, maybe my all time faves I might show my gurning grimace to the lucky few!

Roms are illegal.

You are illegal!