#master moo

[littleeyesofpallas]

DRAGON[ドラゴン] self explanatory

Oh okay... a bunch of these are super impossible to make sense of from the datacard portaits alone plus a few go through dramatic redesigns so here's some with their more notable changes all side by side and i'll get to the ones with less variation afterward...

CREVASSE[クレバス]

JIHĀD[ジハード] from... uh.... JIHĀD[جهاد]??? Not gonna comment on that one

RAGNAROKS[ラグナロックス] from Ragnarøkkr, the apocalyptic event of norse mythology where all the gods of asgard die seemingly returns in MR3 as just RAGNA[ラグナ]

TECHNO-DRAGON[テクノドラゴン]

ATHENA[アテナ] from the Greek Goddess ATHENA[Ἀθῆνα]

GALIEL[ガリエル] GALI and the suffix -IEL[יאֵל] meaning "-of god" in Hebrew and commonly used in the names of angels in both biblical and apocryphal, and erroneous european occultist texts

CAUCASUS[コーカサス] like the Chalcosoma chiron aka Caucasus Beetle, a type of rhinobeetle

CRUSTAA[クラスター] from CRUSTACEAN

DIABLOS[ディアボロス]

ARMORED-DRAGON[アーマードラゴン]

OCELOT[オセロット]

DODONGO[ドドンゴー] I swear I knew that the Dodongo was from some kind of actual folk lore and not just a Zelda thing but now I can't seem to pinpoint a clear origin

GHIDORAHS[ギドラス] like King GHIDORAH from Godzilla?

APOCALYPSE[アポカリプス] also came in a white variant

MAGMA-HEART[マグマハート]

MUU[ムー] the weird barely present villain of the franchise, from the Japanese MUU[無有]: "nonexistence/having nothing/oblivion"

SIMURGH[シムルグ] the legendary bird(?) SIMURGH[سیمرغ] of ancient Iranian mythology

ZARATAN[ザラタン] the ZARATAN[سرطان]: "crab(?)" of Arabic lore. Oddly it appears in the same text as a supposed sea dragon, but they didn't name it after that instead?

DURGA[ドルゥーガ] from the Hindu goddess DURGA[दुर्गा]

FAFNIR[ファフニール] the mythic dragon of Germanic lore in the Volsung saga

GRYPPS[グリュプス] another name for a Griffin/Gryphon

KUJATA[クジャタ] from the KUJATA[كيوثاء] from Islamic cosmology, which carries the world on its shoulders.

KUNGFU[クンフー] dressed like Bruce Lee in Game of Death

DRAGON-KATZE[ドラゴンカッツェ] from KATZE the german word for "cat

ROSWELL[ラズウェル] it's definitely how youd write ROSWELL like Roswell New Mexico, but it's a Mocchi subtype so I kind of ant to assume it was meant to be ROSE-WELL? But it kind of doesn't make too much sense either way.

FLASHER[フラッシャー]

JABBERWOCK[ジャバウォック] from Lewis Carrol's JABBERWOCKY

OCTOGON[オクトゴン] OCTOPUS DRAGON

CUÉLEBRE[クエレブレ] from the El Cuélebre of Spanish folklore

FUR-DRAGON[ファードラゴン] or maybe meant to be FURRED-DRAGON with the DO syllable shared

OUROBOROS[ウロボロス] from the Greek [ουροβóρος] the dragon eating its own tail

VOUIVRE[ヴィーヴル] the French folklore monster, akino to a Wyvern

DIVA[ディーヴァ]

HAMSTERN[ハ��スタン] HAMSTER DRAGON

FAIRY-FEATHER[フェアリフェザー]

GATE-KEEPER[ゲートキーパー]

VRITRA[ヴリドラ] from VRTRA[वृत्र] an asura in hindu mythology

LINDWURM[リンドブルム] another mythic serpent of european lore

DRAGON-CRYSTAL[ドラゴンクリスタル]

FEATHER-GOLD[フェザーゴールド]

WYVERN[ワイバーン]

OWL-BEARD[オウルベアード]

NIDHOGG[ニーズヘッグ] from the norse mythological Níðhǫggr

EDOKKO-DON[エドッコドン] from EDOKKO[江戸っ子] denoting someone born and raised in Edo and I assume DON here is mean to be the sound of a drum?

CHAOS-DRAGON[カオスドラゴン]

GIGA-METAL[ギガメタル]

SRAOSHA[スラオシャ] seemingly from the zoroastrian concept Sraosha[سروش]

PAPER-DRAGON[ペーパードラゴン]

VEGA[ベガ] seemingly named after the brightest star in the constellation Lyra, which is generally characterized as an eagle

WOODY[ウッディー]

[carnationopal]

I miss him... I offer a tiny sketch.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Mini Master List

Introduction

[juletheghoul]

The General

a/n: So, the Roman got me. It was to be expected, honestly lol. I am well aware we know practically nothing about this character but I couldn't help myself. I wrote reader as a slave here, if you aren't into that - no worries. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for letting me flood her with my thoughts and ideas and for helping me flesh it out🩷 Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, some dirty talk, creampie, alcohol, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) one creepy dude making a pass, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

reblogs are appreciated

Series masterlist Masterlist next chapter; the baths

He comes through the tent flap late into the night, covered in blood, grime, and rage, and yet - you are there to greet him. The gods have seen it fit to bestow him with another day of victory, another day of life and with that life, comes his expectations of you.

You rush to pour the water you’ve kept hot at his fire into the basin he uses to wash, eyes scanning quickly for the clean linens he uses to cleanse himself of the gore of battle, and making yourself scarce once the basin is full.

He says nothing, but he has no need to. 

You watch from your place at the edge of his vision, every nerve and receptor in your body honed to anticipate his needs. 

His armor needs to be cleaned before first light, thank the Gods I didn’t fall asleep. I will need to mend the tear in his tunic as well–

His hand shot out, face up towards you, interrupting your mental tally of his state but your body responds quicker than your mind and you’re there in an instant, placing the clean linen into his dampened hand. Still, he says nothing. 

You move towards his table while he finishes, shuffling his maps and well laid battle plans with great care in order to set out the olives and cheese he likes, the crusty bread and the dark wine he prefers. 

“General.” The gruff voice at the tent flap scares you half to death, but you don’t cry out. You’re too well-trained for that. A few of his soldiers stand at the threshold. “We wish to share a cup, a toast to your victory.” They are eager, the red glint of blood still fresh in their eyes. 

He grunts in response, but gestures to his table before giving you a pointed look. You rush to fetch more cups, setting them down at the extra places at his table. They are all seated by the time you finish pouring for them, and with another glance from Marcus–your general–you move to fetch more food from his stores. 

They’re raucous, the heat of the battle still coursing through their veins. Where Marcus is focused on calming the blood, they are eager to stoke the fire. They are either oblivious to his dark mood, or unbothered by it. 

“More wine!” One of them cries out, despite the way the General’s jaw clenches. You hurry to comply, pouring into the younger man's cup without spilling. “You are lucky General Acacius, a pretty, young, thing like this waiting to warm your bed of a night,” he leers up at you, his gaze slipping across your body like eels in a bowl, “would you share your wealth, I wonder.” His other hand slides up the back of your thigh causing you to gasp, his touch wholly unwelcome. 

“If you would like to keep your hands, I suggest you keep them to yourself.” His voice cuts through the air, “Come girl, take my cup away. I have no taste for wine just now.” You move away from the unwanted touch and towards Marcus, avoiding his eyes to complete the task at hand. “Go now, all of you. I will see you in the morning.” He moves from his place at the table, and if the others are unwilling to comply, they make no mention of it. The table is clear by the time he comes back, absent unwanted company. 

He says nothing while removing his armor, but you rush to his side to assist anyway, carefully putting the pieces aside to clean. 

The mood shifts, and his gaze now bores into you, and your heart races to feel it. Where the other man's eyes made your skin crawl, Marcus’ eyes feel like a caress. You feel them on the slit in your tunic, where your thigh is exposed. You feel them on your chest when you turn towards him to help take his chest plate off. 

Goose flesh spreads like a stain across your skin, and your cunt weeps for him, betraying any thoughts that you might not want what he quite obviously wants to give you. The proof of it tenting his tunic when the leather Pteruges are removed.

Those brutal hands, the ones that’d been covered in blood and grime not an hour past, now grab onto your hips, the grip hard enough to bruise. The thin linen shift does nothing to insulate you from his heat, does nothing to dull the press of his want against your belly. Any doubts swimming in your mind about crossing this line with him–again–are silenced when the linen is all but ripped off, leaving you almost shivering in his arms. 

The arousal is something fierce, an entity all in its own and it responds to his brusque movements with a perverse glee. It sets your nerves alight, drips down onto your thighs as he herds you towards his bed mat. His intensity infects you, it strengthens your grip, you’d swear it sharpened your nails by the way you rip at the very tunic you’re going to have to mend.

You land on your back amongst his linens and he’s quick to follow you there. It takes less than a breath for him to shrug everything off, both of you as nude as the day you were born. 

“Open your legs.” His voice is gruff, and thick with want, the same want that smears fat pearly drops against the skin of your thigh. 

Your nipples harden, drawing both his eye, and his mouth as you hurry to comply. He bites, pulling a gasp from your lips. His tongue quickly soothes it though, this is his pattern, an addictive balance of pain and pleasure. First one breast, then the other gets his attention, but only briefly, his desire burns too brightly. 

You only manage to pull his face up to yours before his cock finally slips into your wet heat, feeding a gasp directly into his mouth when you take his kiss with a force to rival his own. 

The size of him always shocks you into silence. He isn’t the first man to have you this way, your chastity had been gone long before you came into his service; you were glad of it to feel the way he molded you to accept him though. Now, and every time he’s been inside you. 

His stroke is brutal, it’s hard, and rough and all but moves you higher onto his mat. It’s perfect.

Your knees hitch high onto his hips, just as he raises one knee to press against the back of your thigh for purchase and it pays off because he finds the spot that makes you keen. 

He lets out a breathy laugh, relishing the state of you and the euphoria of your climax is far too close to feel any shame. Instead your cunt floods him, the slip of him moving so noisy and vulgar and welcome and blissful it pushes you closer still.

“More, please—“ you moan out the words, the first words you’ve spoken to him since he’d returned from a day of violence and he corrects you even now. 

“More what,” he grunts, anger and ecstasy shining on his visage, “speak correctly, girl.” His voice is clipped, his movements faltering and you know he’s close.

“More please, Dominus.” They’re a whimper, and he responds to them just how you hoped he might. He moves quickly and for a moment you can see how he’s earned his reputation, agile and smooth and within a moment he sits back on his haunches, pulling your hips up to meet his thrusts. 

You don’t know whether to scream, or weep, either way you thank the Gods for putting you in this man’s way. The pleasure is peppered with pain where his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, and you know you will feel the ache of holding them open tomorrow, but it’s so hard to care when it feels so good.

The precipice looms, the shadow of the climax clouding anything and everything and when you reach down towards where you’re spread wide, it only takes a couple of quick, wet circles at your clit to float away.

He groans, hips stuttering and you know you’ve taken him over the edge with you, you can feel the evidence of it painting your insides. His eyes glaze over as he watches himself fill you to the brim, slack-jaw and drunk on his orgasm and your flesh on display for him. 

“I expect you to remain full of my gift-“ his tone is filthy, lust and victory of a different kind on his features as he grinds himself deeper, “until I take you again.” He hisses the last few words out, pulling his softening cock out to inspect his mess. “Am I understood?”

“Yes Dominus.” The words are sweet as summer fruit on your tongue, eager to please him.

He smiles, but it’s predatory and it makes you clench around nothing, your body betraying your words when you feel his spend dripping out in front of his eyes.

He tsks, pushing it back in with thick fingers.

“You are well aware I don’t tolerate such insolence.” His eyes narrow, but his mood is still playful, removing his fingers from your cunt, only to stick them in your mouth. “Now, get some rest. I expect you up at first light.” He speaks with absolute authority as you suck his fingers clean, and nod.

------

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[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Speech & Language

Milestones Related to Speech and Language

Birth to 5 months

Coos

Vocalizes pleasure and displeasure sounds differently (laughs, giggles, cries, or fusses)

Makes noise when talked to

6 to 11 months

Understands "no-no"

Babbles (says "ba-ba-ba")

Says "ma-ma" or "da-da" without meaning

Tries to communicate by actions or gestures

Tries to repeat your sounds

Says first word

2 to 17 months

Answers simple questions nonverbally

Says 2-3 words to label a person/object (pronunciation may not be clear)

Tries to imitate simple words

Vocabulary of 4-6 words

18 to 23 months

Vocabulary of 50 words, pronunciation is often unclear

Asks for common foods by name

Makes animal sounds ("moo")

Starting to combine words ("more milk")

Begins to use pronouns ("mine")

Uses 2-word phrases

2 to 3 years

Knows some spatial concepts ("in" or "on")

Knows pronouns ("you," "me" or "her")

Knows descriptive words ("big" or "happy")

Uses 3-word sentences

Speech becomes more accurate, but may still leave off-ending sounds. Strangers may not understand much of what is said.

Answers simple questions

Begins to use more pronouns ("you" or "I")

Uses question inflection to ask for something ("my ball?")

Begins to use plurals ("shoes" or "socks"; regular past tense verbs, "jumped")

3 to 4 years

Groups objects, such as foods or clothes

Identifies colors

Uses most speech sounds, but may distort some of the more difficult sounds, such as l, r, s, sh, ch, y, v, z, th. These sounds may not be fully mastered until age 7 or 8.

Uses consonants in the beginning, middle, and ends of words.

Some of the more difficult consonants may be distorted, but attempts to say them

Strangers are able to understand much of what is said

Able to describe the use of objects ("fork" or "car")

Has fun with language; enjoys poems and recognizes language absurdities ("Is that an elephant on your head?")

Expresses ideas and feelings rather than just talking about the world around him or her

Uses verbs that end in "ing" ("walking" or "talking")

Answers simple questions ("What do you do when you are hungry?")

Repeats sentences

4 to 5 years

Understands spatial concepts ("behind" or "next to")

Understands complex questions

Speech is understandable, but makes mistakes pronouncing long, difficult, or complex words ("hippopotamus")

Uses some irregular past tense verbs ("ran" or "fell")

Describes how to do things (e.g., painting a picture)

Lists items that belong in a category (e.g., animals or vehicles)

Answers "why" questions

5 years

Understands time sequences (e.g., what happened first, second...)

Carries out a series of 3 directions

Understands rhyming

Engages in conversation

Sentences can be 8 or more words in length

Uses compound and complex sentences

Describes objects

Uses imagination to create stories

NOTE

The ability to hear is essential for proper speech and language development.

Hearing problems may be suspected in children who are not responding to sounds or who are not developing their language skills appropriately.

The above are some age-related guidelines that may help to decide if your child is experiencing hearing problems.

It's important to remember that not every child is the same.

Children reach milestones at different ages.

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ On Children ⚜ Hearing ⚜ Children's Dialogue

[howlingday]

Jaune: (Whacked in the head)

Coco: Jaune... How many feet are you from Velvet?

Jaune: Um... Not enough?

Coco: Not enough. Good morning, Bun-Bun.

Velvet: Um, good morning, Coco.

Fox: Don't tell me you're trying to get into the whole "Jaune Harem" thing.

Coco: Of course not! But I don't want Velvet to get involved, either. Whatever is going on around Jaune isn't worth it. Do you know how many girls I've caught climbing around our dorm to get to his?

Jaune: What are you guys talking about?

Velvet: You mean you haven't noticed the large amount of girls crawling around your dorm, both inside AND outside of it?

Jaune: Hm... Well...

Ruby: (Inside the walls) Do you think he's onto us?

Blake: (Inside the ceiling) No! That's impossible! We're masters of stealth!

Pyrrha: (Outside the window) Everyone, shut up and make bird noises! KA-KAW~!

Ruby: UM- UH- M-MOO?

Yang: (Inside the closet) Aw, you totally nailed it, Ruby! You're the best bird! Argh! You're so pretty and smart~!

[fatwolfpup]

Goth Milk? (Rapid expansion hucow transformation)

Hm? What do you want? Here to make fun of me again? Just get out of my way and leave me alone! Huh? What's that in your hand? An attitude adjustment? What's that supposed to mean?

Is this some kind of bell collar? Get it off me! I'm not your pet! Ugh why won't it come off? This stupid cow bell is so loud! I can't hear myself think! Take it off! What do you mean 'just wait'?

Oh fuck...what's that feeling? My chest is so warm...it feels like it's swelling. This bell...is still so loud...what are you moo-doing to me! Everything feels so...warm. Is that...are they filling with something? Are you giving me tits?!

M-moo...no! Stop! They're so big! And they're still growing?! I can feel them sloshing so much...is this stupid collar giving me udders? Even my nipples are growing now! Fuck they're so sensitive...m-moooooo...I can feel so much milk inside me...

Fuck I"m so swollen...they're so sensitive...moooooo~! You're turning me into a fat cow! 'Master'? No! I'm-moooo- not calling you that~! Ch-change me back! I don't want to be livestock! Fuck I'm so full....I need...I need to be milked...I can...still hear the bell...

Mooooo~! Please! I need to be milked so badly...my udders are so full...Master~! Master I need you to milk me~! I'll be a good cow I promise~!

[imjustudders]

It's impossible to tell how long you've been in that basement. The days seem to blur together, to the point where not even sleep properly serves to mark the passage of time. You usually pass out after He breeds you, after he ruts into you like the livestock you've become, and there's no way of knowing just how long you're asleep for.

You used to hold out hope that you'd be rescued one day or that, at some point, you'd be able to escape. But you know now that both of those things are absurd. After all, your udders have gotten so big. Too big. They're massive, huge, too big to even get your arms all the way around them. They weigh more individually than the entire rest of your body, and that's when all the milk has been drained out of them. When you're fully engorged, swollen to the point where you feel like you're about to burst, the idea of lifting even one of them seems ludicrous.

The worst part is how much you're starting to enjoy it. The sensitivity of your huge, swollen teats is higher than ever; hooking you up to the milking machine is tantamount to edging you, filling your mind with so much pleasure that it breaks in half. You can't think. You can't worry. All you can do is play with yourself, humping against your own hands, and wait for Him. Your master. Your owner. The man who rewards you with his cock every time you Moo for him. He fucks you. He breeds you. You feel your body stretching to his shape as he pushes his cock inside you, your body instinctively knowing which muscles to tense to draw him as deep inside you as it can. You need his cum. You need him to breed you. Your higher thoughts are slowly being eroded away until all that's left is the singular need to be a good fucktoy for Him and earning his load deep inside you.

this is basically 80% of my biggest fantasies so tysm for this ask i very selfishly got off to it twice before i posted here

[linkman447]

Married life (eve)

Sitting on his beach chair jaune arc in his swimming suit relaxed in the sun

Jaune: ahhh this is the life nice relaxing island home and a beautiful wife who should be back soon

Bullhead sounds

Jaune: and that’s her now

He gets up to greet his sexy Faunus wife

Eve: jauney~

She rushes out and kisses her husband

Jaune: mmmmm your feisty today

Eve: you bet now why don’t you give this heifer her tender love and care

Jaune: honey won’t our friends be arriving soon

Eve: oh but baby I have news on that

Flashback

Blake: EVE GIVE ME BACK MY BLOND HIMBO

Eve: he was never yours

Pyrrha: YES BECAUSE HE WAS MINE

She was backed up by both Yang and velvet

Eve: wrong again but enough talk

One fight later

Eve: hmm maybe you need to train more

Pyrrha: how

Eve: oh just my wonderful sexy husbands semblance boosts me and good (she hefts her enormous breasts) sexy like.

Blake with a bloody nose: hot

Eve: on what to do with you all

Flashback ends

Eve: their here

She points to 4 girls all dressed in cow print bikinis

Yang posing while pushing her breasts up: moo master

Blake showing off her glorious ass: moo nyaster

Velvet in her bikini with a bunny tail: m-moo m-master

Pyrrha showing off her thicc thighs: moo my handsome master

Jaune blushed hard: Eve what is this

Eve: well baby I thought it was getting rather lonely here so I brought us some pets

All 5 for them gathered around him

Eve: and now it’s time to play

They swarmed him

Jaune: aura don’t fail me

9 months later they ended up building a larger mansion on their island because this Arc did what Arcs do best

BREED

[carnationopal]

Again 🎠

[jymwahuwu]

@strawberri-yan little inspired...

"Mmm... rustle..." You chewed the fresh grass in your mouth, feeling peaceful and happy. It was a cloudy day that had just rained. You didn't notice the danger approaching quietly...

Overthrown like an avalanche. Those hands immediately squeezed your breasts, and the unprepared, intense pleasure immediately flowed through your skin like electricity. "Moo!!!"

That-that's Jing Yuan from the farm next door?

His thick and strong cock slipped between your wet legs, and his hands didn't forget to rub and squeeze your breasts. He pinches your nipples directly, and the smooth milk spurts out, forming two small white water columns. You moo and scream, but still can't escape. Those seeds are meant to fill you up.

Your master has dealt with this matter immediately after discovering it. You thought he was going to stop Jing Yuan, but he was actually discussing putting you on his farm so that everything would be more convenient <3

[love-toxin]

Cattle -> Harley Kunuk

plot: a world in which the realm of monsters & yanderes has merged--that's the au you find yourself in as a low-producing cow hybrid. you've never impressed any master as working cattle, always cast aside in favour of prettier, more talented cows. that might change once you get dropped off at the wrong farmer's ranch.

(cws: fem!cow hybrid!reader, chubby+naive reader, yandere themes, explicit smut, lactation, fondling, dry-humping, chest worship, dirty talk/soft degradation, clothed sex/cumming in pants, kinda monsterfucking, power dynamics, reader refers to him as 'Mr. Harley')

a/n: welcome to the long-awaited 'harley x cow hybrid reader' saga LOL

wc: 4.7k (art by milove @the-zipper !! <3)

If not for the grace of the gods, you'd surely be thrown into the ditch or to the wolves by now.

The transition between seedy motels has never been easy, sure, but you've reached new lows since your last rancher kicked you to the curb. Besides, nor has having to deal with the treatment from your superiors been easy when most of them see you as nothing but what your brand reads out.

Cattle.

If farm hybrids have anything, it isn't rights–at least not for undesirables like you. There's probably places out there like Runerhéa where you could live in peace, but this new world is even tougher than the last. When the realms merged as one, everyone on the lower side like you thought it would turn out to be a blessing. Maybe you'd finally get a break and wouldn't have to live like a piece of meat. But so far, it's only been a curse.

Ever since you were passed into the hands of these “livestock traders” your life has been absolute hell. Your last master had at least left you be most of the time, preferring to pay attention to his other, better-producing and prettier cattle rather than get on your case for this or that. These guys that have been toting you around since then have been complete nightmares to deal with–they're callous and cruel and they never let you rest properly, they keep you up all hours of the night with their hollering and drinking and gambling on those awful card games.

Yet, even when you were told that your time with them would be coming to an end, you weren't excited about it. Not one bit. How could you be, when you've been surrounded by horrible people saying such horrible things about your abilities? They've called you “moon-face” and mocked your pitiful history as working cattle, to the point that they've joked about re-branding you and making you a sex toy or something instead, because that's probably all you're good for. You can't even moo right, much less make any milk that doesn't taste sour or curdle within minutes. You're totally useless, and whoever your new owner is, he's quickly going to come to that realization too. Your handlers have been quick to remind you of that, just in case you happen to pick up some worth in yourself on the way there.

That's all you've thought for the past three days since you've been here, too scared to come out from the back of your stall for fear that the big, scary farmer with the loud voice is going to yell at you for not turning out to be what he hoped. You heard him arguing with the traders when you were delivered: ”What the hell is this?! I bought a cow, not some girl! Is this a joke? Did Elias put you up to this?” and since then you've cowered in the corner, refusing even to touch the water and food he brought and left at the door for fear he might just poison you to save the trouble of bringing you back. You've never been kept with real farm animals before, yet even now there's not much interaction you have with them. The big guy put you in a stall far away from his other animals, probably because he thinks you might infect them or something. It's always something with you.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. You've been hearing those noises from outside for the last two days, the sounds of wood scraping and hammering pervading your fuzzy ears and filling your mind with all manner of horrors that might await you. Is he building some kind of horrible torture machine? A rack? A device to forcibly milk you? Oh, that thought sends a chill down your spine. Or is he simply building your coffin? It could be any one of those possibilities or many, many more horrible ones, and it leaves you to tug your floppy ears down and try to block out the noise as you cry softly. I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die, even if I'm bad at being a cow. I just wanna live another day.

You pull the scratchy woolen blanket he left in here closer around your shoulders, hoping and praying with your head bowed that this won't be the end. With the clunk of the barn's door sliding open, with every step you hear thudding closer and closer towards your stall, you tremble harder and hurriedly wipe your tears dry while you pray to the Deity to shelter you from an early grave.

Kh-chunk. The clasp on your stall comes undone from the other side, and with bated breath, you watch as the door rolls open and lets in the streams of light you'd forgotten existed in this endless darkness.

“...Oh.” The farmer utters his surprise softly, his brow easing up as he looks you over. He's perched at the entrance to your stall still, not quite ready to cross the threshold yet. Maybe he's still trying to prepare himself as he sizes you up for the slaughterhouse. “You look…cold.”

You shake your head meekly and throw off the blanket. Straws of hay flutter about your knees as you do so, some of it already stuck in your hair and your meager clothes that don't cover enough for him not to blush and avert his gaze. “Uh…c'mon. We need to move you somewhere else.” He meekly produces a harness from his overalls, but it sits lightly in his hand like he's not really keen on using it. “It'll be safe. C'mon.”

If you weren't a lowly, domestic cow hybrid, one of the very lowest of the monster hybrid species, you'd be tempted to ask if he's always this awkward. He can't even look at you, he barely even breathes once you finally stand and skirt past him out of the stall. And he doesn't dare to touch you as he leads you out of the barn even though you're his property–it's like he doesn't even see you as cattle, but as…you don't even know what.

At the very least, despite the uncertainty around your new home, the first deep breath of fresh air as you step outside reminds you of the home you knew in childhood. Rolling grass in a sea of green, woods out across the field that are far from predators, safe fences and even a big, old farmhouse on the lawn that gives you a sense of homey nostalgia. As big and scary as he looks, maybe he's not so bad after all…maybe, as long as you do everything to appeal to him, he might treat you like nice cattle and not the nuisance you've long been defined as.

As you step out onto the grounds, the farmer introduces himself as Harley. He waits while you sniff around the fresh, clean air a bit before leading you around the side of the barn–that's where a small, shed-like attachment has been built on to the side of the structure, which opens into a surprisingly comfy and spacious area that he must have put together in a hurry. The floorboards have a nice rug over them and there's a soft, downy mattress in the corner on a little frame, and it's all built in and warm like it's an actual room. But when you turn to Harley with a quizzical look on your face and he tells you it's yours, you don't even know how to respond. So you just look at him blankly.

“It's…yours, y'know? It's, uh, like your…bedroom, I guess.” He looks around the space and rubs the back of his sweaty neck, seemingly sheepish about the simple construction even though you're standing there dumbfounded. “I didn't think you'd wanna live in the barn with the animals, but, uh, you wouldn't come in the house. So…yeah.” The silence between you is agony up until he just huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Listen, this isn't ideal for me. I don't deal well with people, and you're…sort of one, I guess. To be honest, I hate the idea of sharing my farm with some stranger.” He sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair, incidentally messing up his long ponytail that's just barely keeping all that thick hair tied up. With his hands set on his hips, he looks you dead in the eyes in a way that makes you cower at his sternness. “But you're here now, so whatever. Just behave yourself–and if some guy in a cowboy hat comes around, make yourself scarce. I don't want him messing with my-” He catches himself, but in your bovine wisdom you finish his sentence for him.

“Cattle?”

Harley swallows dryly and nods. “...Cattle. Yeah.” In any case despite the awkwardness and the tense air between you, he shows you how to work the little water pump he built the shed around so you can wash up and drink, your bed and blankets, and where to use the bathroom–which he insists you do inside the house, for no reason that he elaborates on other than the fact that you're able to, so you should. With that he leaves you be, letting you sit and ponder this newfound haven that he so casually dropped in your lap.

By the third day in your little mock cabin, six days since you've arrived here, you're pretty sure you've fallen in love with Mr. Harley. He won't tolerate you calling him ‘Master’ because it makes him all red in the face when you say it, so despite him insisting on no formalities at all you've settled on referring to him as ‘Mr.’ Harley.

It's been an easy process to say the least. Mr. Harley is gruff and speaks bluntly, but he never lays a hand on you and has never called you any mean names. He feeds you more often than he does his other animals, and despite getting annoyed and scolding you if you don't eat like you didn't the first three days, he's always gentle and doesn't yell or kick things over when he's mad. Plus, he treats his other farm animals real nice–you've heard him cooing and calling them by their names when he pets them, and most of them come running or perk their ears up when they hear his voice from far away. One of the chickens even tried to peck you when Mr. Harley was showing you around, and had his hand on your arm as he showed you how to feed them. They love him so much they even get jealous, and it's easy to see why. Mr. Harley is so caring and kind-hearted. He's got pretty brown eyes and such a low, deep voice, and big muscles, and soft hair, he's more handsome than any other master or trader you've come across in your whole life. It's no wonder you've fallen in love with Mr. Harley.

Where it's becoming an issue, however, is with your milk.

The first little while you were here, Mr. Harley didn't even make a mention about your production. There wasn't any bucket around for you to show him anyways, so you've been sitting around letting the milk build up and up and up until you're sore and swollen. The only reason you're sat in your shed with a bucket in your lap now is because Mr. Harley noticed your discomfort (because he's such a nice and caring farmer…) but, with you being too worried about your quality and Mr. Harley being too red-faced to stick around and watch, you're coming up on the end of the day without a drop to show for it. If you don't give him anything, he'll think you're a disobedient cow! But if you squeeze out your milk and it tastes sour, or makes him sick…oh, you couldn't bear to think of making Mr. Harley hate you with the taste of your milk. It's quite the dilemma that you have no easy way of getting out of, so you do what's likely the better option: you milk out just enough to make the swelling go down, but not so much that the taste will be too strong if it's bad.

But even with your clever thinking, your knees shake as you perch on your bed and listen to the big, thudding footsteps of Mr. Harley coming towards the shed. The moment the door slides open you spring into action, and pick up the bucket a quarter full of milk to hand to him, hoping beyond hope that he won't be upset over how little there is.

“..Huh.” After he jolts slightly at your sudden movement toward him, Harley glances down at the bucket and back up at you as he takes it gingerly, peering down at the milk as if it's some sort of magic that you've managed to fill it even as little as you did. He raises his hand and your instincts force you to flinch, your eyes squeezing shut as you anticipate a hit or something equally awful. But the moment passes because Mr. Harley pats your head instead, stroking your hair and your fuzzy ears gently before hiking up the bucket to grab and hold it by the handle. “Good girl.”

Good girl? Are those words for real? Was that…praise? And so easily given, at that?

You're practically on your knees by the time he steps out of the shed, they're so wobbly and weak, but before he can make it outside he halts and turns back to you. “So…” He lingers at the doorway, the bucket hanging from his closed fist. “...Where does your milk come from, exactly?”

Oh. That's…hard to explain. You had a sense that Mr. Harley already knew, but then again he owns farm animals, not hybrids. So you meekly point at your own chest in answer, and Harley's reaction takes you by complete surprise.

“...You're shitting me.” He breathes out in what comes off as disgust, but is really shamefaced embarrassment as he tries to avert his eyes but can't tear his gaze off of your…well, udders. It was obvious that they were impressive, but he clearly wasn't expecting such a blunt and simple answer. Harley clears his throat and tries to get something out, but sooner than he's able to he gives up and just wishes you a good sleep as he shuts the sliding door behind him.

The rest of that night is full of whimpers and soft cries throughout the shed as you weep out all your worries. Mr. Harley doesn't like me anymore! He thinks I'm gross! You sniffle into your tear-drenched pillow as the thoughts grow so loud in your head that they overwhelm you. In time, you cry yourself so dry that you can't help but drift off, your sleep peppered with bad memories and anxious nightmares of what Mr. Harley might do with you tomorrow, now that he's seen how worthless and disgusting you really are.

Though by now you're used to the rooster's screeching to wake you up, your morning is riddled with half-awake mumbles and drool caking your pillow as you try to remember what you were doing. It's not until you rub your eyes and look around that you notice the light filling the shed, and realize with a cold twist in your belly that it's almost midday and well past the time you should've been up and about. The sounds of Mr. Harley's boots in the barn next door rattle you out of your covers and up to your feet, your knees knocking and hands shaking as you try to figure out what to do.

Mr. Harley always comes by your shed to check on you after he's done with the animals, and by the whinnying of the horses as he sprays the hose you can tell he's just about finished up with filling their water trough. And if that's what he's up to now, that means you're next–and gods know what he's gonna do now that he doesn't think you're cute anymore! You're not sure now if he would kill you, or chop you up to sell your bits in some underground meat market, but he might give you back to the traders! You can't let that happen, you can't!

Little do you know that while you've bustled around your shed in a panic trying to figure out what to do, Harley has been pacing anxiously outside the barn doors before finally slamming them shut and heading towards you. Each step rings out like thunder. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump-

The door to your shed slides open, eliciting a startled shriek from your lips as you drop the bucket. It clatters to the ground and rolls to a stop just by Mr. Harley's boot. The two of you lock eyes and he utters a string of words that totally throw you for a loop.

“You had trouble getting your milk out yesterday, so I'm gonna help you.”

The air that hangs between you is heavy once he says that, pierced only by the gentle clinking of the bucket's thin wire handle as he reaches down and plucks it up off the hay-scattered ground. Harley rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, his steps taken slow and quietly as he slides the door shut behind him and approaches your skittish self.

“You want me to help you?” His voice remains stoic and strong, but when you nod so meekly that your ears twitch his face burns a bright red all the way down to his collar. He coughs into his hand and asks you to move into a comfortable position while he stands awkwardly and prepares himself for what's about to come. You can barely make eyes with him in the meanwhile, every bit of you is trembling as you sink down to your knees.

Mr. Harley sets the bucket down beneath you. The soft, almost imperceptible thunk rings in your ears like a dinner bell. A thought flashes over your head and you wonder if you should get on your hands and knees–but the shame of such a position quickly overcomes whatever else would compel you to do so, and you sit quietly and patiently with your ears flicking nervously in rhythm with your tail. He gets down on one knee and mutters something in your ear to soothe you, but you can barely hear anything over your own breathing as you try to will your heart into slowing down from its fervent pace. When he asks you to pull down your top, however, you certainly hear that command loud and clear.

The moment the fabric swishes down your chest in one clean motion, Harley has a look of utter redness and embarrassment all over his face. He's a bit more composed than yesterday, but he can barely tear his eyes away from them; your udders. They're so soft and weigh so heavy on your torso, it's a surprise you can even lift them up yourself. That's what he thinks, anyways–you can't even comprehend his awe when you're so self-conscious over your nipples pebbling in the drafty air. Your fingernails scrape against each other in a nervous tic while you wait. He has to get prepared, and he warms his hands by rubbing them together; the very action of which sends heat straight to your nethers and a twitch to your soft, fuzzy ears.

“M-My milk doesn't taste good…” You whimper to distracted ears, but still, Mr. Harley holds his hands back from reaching out and he meets your eyes in contemplation. Your worries explode out of you before you can halt yourself. “B-But I'll–I'll try really hard to make it sweet, Mr. Harley!”

To your shock, he just shakes his head. He scoffs, but then–then it's a chuckle. It's laughter, low and gravelly, but it's laughter all the same.

“You taste good.” Mr. Harley murmurs, and his eyes don't look at all daunted. He doesn't correct himself, either. He leans closer, reaches out, and then the callused pads of his hardworking fingers are brushing under the tender skin of your breasts.

The moment is…saccharine. It's divine. It's godlike! You can't see, can't hear, can barely breathe, and you've never felt more exuberance bubbling up in the back of your throat–you want to scream and cry and beg but the emotions jumble themselves all together and leave you stunned silent. You can hardly let out the gentlest exhale of disbelieving breath as Mr. Harley's hands fold over your chest, and you feel a warmth you thought was only reserved for cows of a much better pedigree than you. The man that's bigger and stronger and sweeter than you shuffles in closer, he wants his lips right against your skin; he wants to taste you and touch you while he gives you a squeeze, and when his tongue flicks out to dab the sweat off your neck you could just cry, it feels so exhilarating.

“M-Mr. Harley-” You gulp, your tone betraying your enjoyment in how it trembles with desperate need. Harley's hands start pressing and pulling on each teat, and in no time at all he's coaxing the milk from you as easily as he would his own dairy cows. No mess, no fuss, and no tears–not ones devoid of joy, anyways. You can't help your own instincts in this moment of pure, primal hybrid heat. “I-I love you, Mr. Harley.”

His head raises and tilts down to look at you. He doesn't even have to look to make sure he's getting it all in the bucket, he's so experienced. Something seems to brew behind those dark, cocoa-coloured eyes…and his words stir up the heat within you like a potent, bubbling love potion.

“I'm so fuckin’ glad they got you mixed up.”

With that admission of very Harley-like affection, he buries his tongue in your mouth and presses your lips firmly together in a wet, forceful kiss.

A kiss! From Mr. Harley! Your tail flicks to and fro with happiness while you're melting into it, into the softness and the strength of his tongue and the sticky wetness of your spit mixing with his. You've never been kissed like this, and when he pulls back you just have to lean in for more. He can barely stifle his lustful chuckles when you keep pecking his lips like a touch-starved harpy, hoping for more tongue and spit and warmth. He squeezes your left teat especially firm and a thick jet of milk spurts out, leaving you to hunch forward suddenly as a wet spot starts forming in the seat of your poor panties. Harley's slanted nose is the only thing keeping you up; he nuzzles it under your chin when your body threatens to pitch forward into the hard ground.

“So close.” He murmurs into your mouth as he seals his lips over yours again. His hair is mussed and he's blushing…a lot. “Almost there. Such a good product today. Nearly filled the whole pail. Good girl.” He whispers against your cheek as you try not to feel the delicate rumbles of his voice in your cunt. With a swish of movement, Mr. Harley maneuvers around your trembling body to slot himself up behind you, and lets his hands reach around you just so his thick, muscly biceps will keep you upright through to the end.

“M-Mr. Harley…I think I'm…I-I dunno, I feel-ah! Ah, weird. G-Good weird..” What feels like a brick presses up against your rear in that moment–you have a feeling you know exactly what it is.

“Yeah?” He scoffs with a thrilled smirk against your neck. “Dirty fuckin’ dairy cow. That's what you are, huh?”

“Y-Yes-!” You squeal, but whether that's an answer to his question or simply the reaction he's caused by bucking against you with a groan, it remains to be seen. Either way Mr. Harley is enjoying himself, and it floods your bovine head with vindicated glee that your master enjoys you. You're doing a good job. You're a good cow.

“Good fuckin’ cow,” Harley growls, completely lost in the softness between your thighs and the sweet warmth of your tits weighing heavy and milk-swollen in his hands. Your legs shake against his thick thighs as he pulls you back to practically sit on his lap, held up by the monster straining at his pants, begging to be let out. You've already left a soiled, sticky spot there through your clothes but Harley won't take any apologies–not right now, at least, when your milk is flowing at its peak and he's just about to lose his self-control completely…if he even had any left from the moment he held your soft, chubby body in his hands. A splash of milk jets from your swollen tits and splatters against the side of the pail rather than inside it, and with that you don't need to see Mr. Harley's face to know that he's reaching his end; in fact, he's already there.

A string of “fuck, fuck, fuck!”s erupts from his mouth that he buries in the juncture of your neck and your shoulder, his teeth not only grazing now but biting down hard into your sweat-soaked skin. The spot you'd left on his jeans is nothing compared to the damp mess he makes as his thighs shake beneath yours, his hips ruthless and powerful as he slams them up into you with the desire of chasing that invaluable heat between your legs. You've barely held back from spasming in pleasure this whole time, but once Mr. Harley has his needs sated is when you finally allow yourself to give in to yours. Groans, panting, and soft mooing resonate within the homey little room that you've incidentally turned into a den of pleasure. Mr. Harley finally slumps back with his arms tucked tightly around your middle, and a wobbly, satisfied smile makes its way across your face as you look down and see a pail full of warm, creamy-looking milk. A few spots and tiny puddles litter the hay-covered ground around it from where you spilled, and some still soaks Harley's massive hands, but you still managed to fill it–a whole bucket!

“I did…a good job, Mr. Harley?” You ask in such a sweet, timid voice that he can only manage a breathless scoff in response.

“You think you did a good job?” He asks, but not understanding his tone, you start to fuss and squirm in fear that you've disappointed him. It's only once he manages to wrangle you against his chest and pick you up off your feet with him that he manages to calm you down.

“Relax, little one. You did a good job.” Careful not to let you lose balance, he sets you down on your feet and holds you there, steadying you against his effortlessly strong body. The moment you look up at him with those sweet, wet cow eyes, he can't resist his affections and lovingly strokes your ears. “Very good. You're a good cow. Look at all the milk you made,” He reaches past you to pick up the pail and hold it out for you to see. The glistening milk swishes with the heft of the bucket, so he steps away and ensures he sets it aside amongst the empty ones to keep it from spilling over.

“So…c-can I stay, Mr. Harley?”

It seems your voice does more than earn you an answer from him–Harley whips around to look at you with a dumbfounded expression on his face, and his reaction is more than you ever could have thought you deserved.

“Stay? What d'ya mean, ‘stay’? You're part of the farm. You're my family now. You're not going anywhere.” He reaches out for you and in that moment it takes for him to get to you, the tears are already flowing and you're blubbering pathetically into his chest with gratitude, which he seems much less awkward in accepting now.

“Hey–quit sayin’ such stupid shit. Stay…are you crazy?” He murmurs into your hair, his arms so tight around you you're reminded of the soreness of your hollow chest as your tits press up against his firm body. What he whispers to you then, in the silence peppered only by your weepy cries of adoration and love for your ‘Mr. Harley’, is the one thing that will stay with you for a long, long time–perhaps for the rest of your life.

“Not just cattle anymore, little one. You're…mine.”

[undercovergamer]

✨Thoma’s Troubles✨

Idk why Itto is so low-res bro

⚠️This fic focuses mainly on tickling. Please do not read it if that upsets you.⚠️

Thoma is sad until Itto makes his day better :)

a/n: the word “muzzle” is mentioned, but it refers to the body part of a dog. I’m pretty sure the nose / face area is called that? Nobody is wearing a muzzle, English isn’t my first language. Also, some swears appear.

Word count: 2908

It was a rather gloomy day in Inazuma. The sky was cloudy, the weather was cold, and the air smelt of rain. Most people preferred to stay indoors today, so the streets were emptier than usual. Unfortunately, mother nature wasn’t alone in her sadness; it affected some of the people as well. Especially Thoma…

He let out a sigh after the last customer of the day left Komore Teahouse, relieved to no longer need the customer service mood. He was meant to assist the loyal pooch Taroumaru today, as Ayato had noticed he needed a break from his usual duties.

“Won’t this rain ever end…?” He mumbled, petting Taroumaru’s head to distract himself. He felt grateful for the break, though he still had a lot on his mind.

“Woof!” replied the shiba, his tail wagging as he received pats. The two of them wouldn’t receive customers for a while, so they could just chill.

“Haha, you sure are cheerful today, buddy…” Thoma said with a small smile as the doggo gave his hand a reassuring lick.

“Hm? Ah, it’s nothing, don’t worry about me.” Thoma said, trying to smile in spite of his mood, but he still felt that nagging pain of Sadge™️ in his heart.

“Woof woof!” This clever dog saw right through him, and he was having none of his lies.

“Hey, I’m not-…!” But before the shiba could scold him further for lying, footsteps quickly approached the teahouse’s entrance.

“Hoo! Phew, finally some shelter! C’mon, buddy! Hurry!” The door opened, revealing a slightly drenched Itto with his little bull companion Ushi, both wet from the heavy rain.

“I-Itto?! Oh my! You’re- You’ll catch a cold…!” Thoma exclaimed, surprised to see them entering like that.

“Heh! Oh don’t worry, this is nothin’. Mind if we crash here?” Itto said with confidence, shutting the door once Ushi was in. “I’ve been through worse!” he added with a chuckle.

“L-Let me get you some towels. I’ll be with you in a moment!” Thoma sprung into action right away, leaving the room for a moment while Taromarou went to greet his guests.

“Hahaha! Thanks, man! You’re a real one.” Itto replied, chuckling as Ushi tried to shake himself off. “Hey, hey, be still. Gimmie a sec.” he said, kneeling down to remove the bull’s armor.

“Mooo…” Ushi moo’d with satisfaction, stretching a little before walking towards Taromarou, who had hopped off the counter to play with him.

“Woof woof!” he barked, happily wagging his tail as Ushi replied with another moo.

“Hah! You two sure get along well, huh?” Itto said, chuckling at their cute communication. “Aww, hello, boy! Workin’ hard today, huh? Such a good boy!” He knelt down once more to pet Taromarou, before being “attacked” with puppy kisses.

“Woof woof!” The shiba was happy to see him, licking the oni’s face affectionately, which made him stumble a little.

“Hahaha! Easy there, pal! It tickles.” He said, laughing as he played with Taromarou. “Mooo…” Ushi watched and yawned a bit before he looked around, wondering when the retainer would come back. He preferred to be without chaos for now, wanting to sit beside his master after he’d calmed down.

Meanwhile, Thoma had found the towels, but struggled to leave the room to join the others. He knew they needed to dry themselves, but unfortunately he felt like he couldn’t go back just yet. He knew he should, but the moment he felt tears in his eyes from all the built up sadness, he just wanted to hide. Hearing the fun Itto was having, he didn’t want to spoil it. He knew deep down the oni would understand, being as kind as he was, but he chose to stay to finish crying first.

The playful chaos in the other room lasted for quite a while before the trio realized Thoma hadn’t come back yet. Taromarou had calmed down by then, laying in Itto’s lap with a content expressionon on his widdle face while Ushi huffed to get their attention.

“Hm… hey, shouldn’t Thoma be back now?” Itto asked, petting both animals on their heads.

“Moo.” Ushi agreed, looking to the direction the human had gone.

“Uh-huh… Hey, Taromarou? Wanna earn yourself a treat?” Itto asked with a smile. The shiba perked up and wagged his tail. “Go find Thoma for us, alright?”

“Woof woof!” Taromarou barked with some excitement before he hopped up and sniffed to pick up his master’s scent. He didn’t really need to do this, since he knew where the towels were, but he did it anyway just to be sure.

“Damn it…!” Thoma muttered to himself, wiping his tears away to stop crying. Hearing the door be pushed open by Taromarou startled him, and he almost dropped the towels onto the floor. The loyal dog whined as he walked up to his human, sensing something was wrong.

“Ah-.. what’re you doing here, boy?” Thoma tried to act normal, but couldn’t hide his slightly dampened face from man’s best friend. Taro let out a small growl before barking, basically telling Itto to get over there. “Ah- shh, sshh, don’t-!”

“Woof! Woof woof!” Taromarou huffed and looked at him with big puppy eyes, his tail resting behind him as he felt worried. Thoma was about to say something, but Itto came in just then.

“Aha! You found him! Good boy!” Itto praised, chuckling before he noticed the lack of excitement in the shiba.

“Ah…! S-Sorry for the wait.” Thoma tried to act natural, smiling slightly as he handed a towel to Itto. “You must be cold by now. Please, take this.”

“Ah- thanks, heh!” Itto focused on drying his hair before anything else. He had to be careful not to rip the towel with his horns as he rubbed it against his head.

“Moooo…” Ushi closed his eyes and Thoma knelt down to dry him off. It felt good, he thought.

“There you go, lil- ah, I mean, big guy. Hehe.” Thoma chuckled at his error, but to his dismay started to feel sad again. Emotions are complicated, he thought. He couldn’t hide them from Itto, especially not when knowing he’s so kind and caring. The oni was talking about the weather, but Thoma wasn’t paying attention, trying to control his tears and distract his mind.

“…and it was cold, man! I usually try to brush it off… real men don’t carry umbrellas, I say. I’m starting to reconsider that, though… ugh…” Itto rambled, messing up his hair with the towel as he tried to dry it quickly.

Taromarou whined at Thoma while Itto combed his hair to fix it. The oni glanced at the housekeeper and noticed a sniffle. “Hey…? Are you okay?” he asked.

And that’s when the floodgates opened, of course, at that simple question. He trusted Itto, so his brain was simply wired to let go of his emotions now. He couldn’t say much as he wiped his tears.

“Thoma…” Itto knew Thoma liked hugs, so he sat down next to him on the floor and invited him into one. Ushi wiggled away from the towel to comfort the worrying shiba while the men hugged one another.

“There there, I got you…” Itto comforted, patting the other’s back. Thoma’s cries were mostly sniffles and hiccups. His voice was barely heard. He rested his head against the other, melting into the embrace as he sought comfort. “I’m just so tired…” he said, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

“I get that…” Itto couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen Thoma cry before. It worried him, but he kept focusing on comforting the other. Poor guy, thought Ushi as he stood by and watched, trying to comfort the whining shiba. Thoma calmed down after a while, feeling much better after letting his frustrations out. He wanted to pull away, but simply couldn’t as he rested against Itto, so tired from such a long day.

“You okay?” Itto asked, patting his back as he loosened the hug.

“Mm… it’s been a long day, I guess…” Thoma replied, wiping his eyes again.

“Yeah. Maybe it’s the weather? I mean, it’s pretty shitty today, isn’t it?” he said with a light chuckle, pleased to hear a snicker from the other.

“Heh, yeah. It’s been raining all day. I’ve felt down since I woke up this morning.” Thoma said, sighing. “I guess I got up on the wrong side?”

“Mm, maybe. I know how it feels. It sucks.” Itto replied, adjusting himself as Thoma pulled away.

“Yeah… one thing lead to another, and-… here we are.” Thoma said, hinting as if something else was wrong.

“Mhm? What happened?” Itto gave him a curious look.

“Ah, just… minor inconveniences building up.” He didn’t want to talk about it and hoped Itto wouldn’t pry.

“Ah, dude, I hate when that happens! And it’s always when we’re already upset- THAT’S when our clothes get caught on door handles.” Itto ranted, crossing his arms.

Thoma laughed, and Itto felt glad for that. “It’s true! It really is…!” the pyro wielder agreed, chuckling at Itto’s attitude.

“For real. Ugh!” Itto rolled his eyes before smirking and laughing it off with Thoma. They were still sat on the floor, allowing Taromarou to come cuddle his master.

“Y’know you can tell me anything, right?” Itto asked, patting Ushi who’d come over to join.

“Yeah… I just… I heard some whispers around the estate, and all… I kinda miss Mondstadt, too.” Thoma took a breath and explained as best as he could. Sometimes, certain estate guards were not kind to him. They didn’t think a guy from Mondstadt belonged there, working for such an important family in Inazuma. Their distasteful jabs really stuck with him today, since his mood was already down to begin with.

“It’s not the first time… I’ve already told Master Kamisato about it. Again.” he sighed as he said this, petting Taromarou while he spoke.

“Psh, then you gotta tell them to fuck off! Stand up for yourself, man! Those guards ain’t shit!” Itto said, angry that someone would be so mean to Thoma. He was such a kind soul! He didn’t deserve that!

“Ah, I know… but- well, they’re kinda intimidating, heh…” Thoma chuckled slightly, a bit embarrassed. Ushi huffed in response.

“They’re pussies, actually! What, they can talk smack behind your back, but can’t say it to your face?” Itto questioned.

Thoma chuckled. “They do, sometimes. It’s pretty back-handed.”

“The audacity! Ugh, when I catch them-…” Itto huffed angrily, clenching his fists.

“L-Let’s not escalate anything, okay? I’ll talk to Ayato about it…” Thoma said, smiling nervously.

“You still need to stand up for yourself and tell those guys to buzz off!” he said, now censoring his swears for Thoma’s sake.

“I-… I can’t do that, Itto.”

“Yes you can. Ayato wouldn’t fire you for that, y’know. He’s a chill guy.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. Those guards just scare me too much…” Thoma frowned and looked away, getting nudged by Taromarou.

“Then scare them back. Tell them the big bad oni will come get them if they don’t stop!” Itto said, grinning with some amusement at his idea.

Thoma chuckled. “Itto, they’d arrest you on sight if I threaten them with that!”

“So what? I’m not going down without a fight!” Itto chuckled too, enjoying their newfound banter.

“And how do you think Ayato would react seeing you beat up his guards?”

“If his guards are asshats, they deserve it.” Itto shrugged. Thoma snickered and started laughing at Itto’s goofy arguments.

“Hahaha…! Oh you’re impossible to reason with~!” he teased.

“Pfft, so are you!” Itto struggled to contain his giggles.

“Touché. Hahahaha..!”

“Hahahahaha!”

Once they had calmed from their shared giggles, Thoma felt the weight on his heart lighten. Taromarou wagged his tail and nuzzled him to comfort further. Thoma giggled at the shiba’s antics, feeling ticklish from the way his muzzle rubbed against his neck.

“Aww~ such a good boy!” Itto cooed, smiling at the cuteness. Ushi agreed, giving a small nod he’d learned from the bipedals around him.

“Pfft~ Hehehey!” Thoma protested half-heartedly as Taromarou excitedly pawed at him, licking his face and wagging his tail. “I-It tickles!” Thoma giggled more as the dog managed to push him over.

“Hahaha! Yeah, get him!” Itto joked playfully, laughing along at the scene.

“Itto, help me~! Hehehehe!” Thoma laughed playfully, putting little effort into escaping.

“Haha, fear not, I’ll help ya out!” Itto said, with a rather devious expression which the housekeeper didn’t see.

“Ahahaha! Hurry!” Thoma laughed as the playful shiba licked his ear, trying to push the doggo away.

“Heheh, do I have to?” Itto took his time, giggling at the scene before scooping up Taromarou and placing him aside.

“Hehe…! Thank you…” Thoma chuckled, about to sit up before he suddenly found himself laughing out loud again as Itto betrayed him, tickling him instead. “WhAAHAHA!! Wahahahahait- nohohohohoho!!” he squealed with surprise, weakly pushing at his tickler’s wrists as he laughed and wiggled.

“Instructions unclear, couldn’t let him have all the fun!” Itto teased, playfully wiggling his fingers all around, gently but quickly tickling the other. Taromarou hopped around playfully as he watched, happy to see and hear Thoma smiling and giggling.

“Ihihittohohoho!! Ahahahahahaha! Plehehehease!” Thoma laughed, not squirming around as much as Itto had hoped he would. The tickly sensation of those nails combining with his shirt’s fabric was simply maddening, yet strangely fun.

“Heheh! You want me to stop?” Itto asked, targetting the other’s sides and ribs for the funnie.

“Ahahahahahaha!! N-Not thehehehere!!” Thoma squealed, his eyes squeezed shut as he laughed and wiggled. Despite how badly it tickled, Thoma didn’t squirm too much, but the teasing made him want to roll away and curl up. Itto snickered, finding him oddly adorable while tickling his tummy, making him laugh and flutter his legs. “Mhm? You want mercy yet?” he asked.

“Ahahahahahaha!! Y-Yehehes, plehehehease!!” Thoma finally pleaded, giggling his head off. He was a really ticklish guy; a fact both Kamisato siblings knew well before Itto found out.

“Hahaha! There ya go~ was that so hard?” Itto teased playfully as he stopped tickling. He reached out to help Thoma, pulling him up to sit.

“Haha… huff… haha… that was mean, you know…” He said, too shy to admit he’d needed it.

“Heh! Ya better keep on smiling now, or the tickle monster might getcha!” Itto joked, laughing at the playful shove he got in response.

“Don’t be so childish! Hahaha…” Thoma joked back, chuckling with amusement. Boy, he sure was lucky Itto had shown up.

“Hahahaha! I’m not being childish, I’m just warning ya.” Itto replied, sticking his tongue out in a playful expression.

“As if, you goof.” Thoma chuckled, feeling a lot better than he did earlier today. He was really glad Itto showed up, relieved to no longer have to cry. “Heh… thanks for cheering me up, though…” he said, a bit sheepish since he’d been tickled.

“Ah, no problem. I’m just glad I could help out!” Itto replied, grinning proudly. “And besides, it was really funny seein’ you giggle like that.”

“Oh, don’t even mention that!” Thoma blurted out, embarrassed by his teasing.

“Heh! Or what? What’re you gonna do ‘bout it?” Itto taunted playfully, giggling at the playful banter.

“Tch.” Thoma had to think of something…

“I’ll just tickle you agai-”

“Taromarou, get him!”

“Wh-What?!”

“Woof woof!” Itto’s confidence was short-lived as the shiba sprang up, wagging his tail as he unleashed his nuzzling attack. Ushi huffed and sat a bit further away from the chaos, knowing dang well his master wouldn’t last without squirming.

“Pfft- that’s not fair!” Itto protested, giggling his ass off already as he tried to gently push the dog away. The affectionate nuzzles and licks against his jaw tickled real bad.

“That’s how it started for me, so it’s plenty fair.” Thoma replied, chuckling with amusement. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the courage to tickle Itto himself, so he let his pupper do it instead.

“Hahahaha! Make him stop~! I- hahaha! I cahahan’t-! Hehehehe!” Itto struggled to speak through his giggles, and Taromarou pushed him over just like he’d done to Thoma.

“Hehehe, that’s so cute~!” Thoma cooed, adoring his dog’s antics. It was also really funny how such a small dog could bring such a powerful oni down like that.

“Hahahaha! C’mohohon! Stahp it!” Itto snickered and finally managed to convince Taromarou to let up, giggling as he caught his breath.

“Are you really that ticklish, Itto?” Thoma teased with amusement. He was genuinely curious, though.

“Tch, am not! Shut up…” Itto protested, though he struggled to act grumpy because that moment was simply too sweet not to smile at.

“You sure about that? Taro sure had you fighting for your life there.” Thoma said with a chuckle.

“Psh, that was nothing! It’s not like I was dying from some puppy love.” Itto scoffed, trying to save his pride.

“Mhm, sure…” Thoma chuckled and shook his head before standing up from the floor.

“I’m not lying!” Itto retorted, standing up as well.

“I didn’t say you were!” Thoma replied.

“You-…! Pfft-…”

Neither of them could continue their banter as they laughed at the situation. Itto never failed to bring joy and sunshine wherever he went, even on the gloomiest of days. Thoma felt grateful to have him as a friend; he was always so kind and loving to him.

Perhaps he should seek him out more often…

[engie-ivy]

Happy New Year!✨

Enjoy some New Year's Wolfstar Fluff😃

1430 words

“If, in the upcoming year, you actually manage to convince Lily Evans to be your girlfriend, then I promise that before the year is over, I will get up on a table and loudly proclaim my feelings for Remus Lupin for anyone to hear.”

May We All Have Our Hopes, Our Will To Try

Happy New Year - Abba

“I swear this is gonna be the year.”

“Mate, for Godric’s sake, just give it up.”

James shakes his head, not taking his eyes off of Lily. “She's warming up to me, I swear.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “And what gave you that idea? That she called you an arrogant pillock just a moment ago?”

“Her tone is changing,” James insist. “It may sound exasperated, but as of late, there's a hint of fondness underneath.”

“I'm not trying to rain on your parade,” Sirius says. “Really. I'm not. But I want more for you. You're a catch, mate.” Sirius clasps James on his back. “Best in every class, maybe except for me sometimes, absolute Quidditch hero, master of pranks, together with myself, of course. Do you have any idea how many girls are always looking at you? Who would give up half their house's points to be with you? There's so much more out there for you!”

“But I want her,” James says curtly.

Sirius sighs. “Yes, you've made that evidently clear over the last few years. Aren't you at least getting tired of constantly being rejected?”

Now James turns to Sirius. “At least I'm putting myself out there, putting my heart on the line. It's by no means a guarantee that my love will ever be reciprocated, but it sure as hell gives me more of a chance than you have, with your strategy of always keeping your feelings hidden for the object of your affections.” He turns his head to look at Remus.

Sirius cheeks colour and he slaps James’ arm. “Don't look!” He hisses.

“Really, Pads,” James says, looking back at Sirius. “It might not exactly be where I want it to be, but at least I know where I stand with Lily. You have no bloody idea how he feels about you, because you won't bloody tell him how you feel.”

Sirius crosses his arms over his chest. “Some of us are not quite as fond of rejection as you are.”

“There's a chance of rejection, by no means a certainty. If you would just take the risk…”

“Him and I have a close friendship that could be ruined,” Sirius reminds James. “Excuse me for not being willing to risk that.”

“Okay, fine,” James says, throwing up his hands. “Let's forget about reciprocation or rejection for a moment. I think Lily simply deserves to know she is loved, regardless of whether she loves me back or not. So I tell her, as often as I can. Don't you want Moo-”

“Ssst!”

“Don't you want the object of your affection to know that?”

“It'll probably just make him feel awkward,” Sirius mumbles.

“Or confident. Happy. Loved. And besides,” James shrugs. “If Lily ever does change her mind, she won't ever have to doubt where I stand.”

“Prongs, she's not gonna-” Sirius shakes his head. “You know what? Let's make a deal. If, in the upcoming year, you actually manage to convince Lily Evans to be your girlfriend, then I promise that before the year is over, I will get up on a table and loudly proclaim my feelings for Remus Lupin for anyone to hear.”

A grin spreads over James’ face. “Deal.”

It's five minutes to midnight and Mary is handing out glasses of champagne to everyone at her New Year's Eve party.

“Is everyone ready?” Mary asks excitedly.

“Well,” James says, holding his glass of champagne in one hand, while his other is resting on Lily's waist, who's leaning heavily against him. “I actually think Padfoot still has an announcement to make.”

Sirius glares at James, but he has given his word, Marauder’s honour, and he has been postponing as much as he could, with only five minutes of the year being left.

Here goes nothing.

He walks up to the table and climbs on top. All their friends, including one Remus Lupin, stop their conversations to stare at him.

“Right. Ehm, hello. So… I suppose I should tell you that…” Sirius takes a deep breath. “I, Sirius Black, have feelings for Remus Lupin. I mean, I'm actually quite besotted with him. In love, you could say. I'm in love with Remus Lupin.”

Gasps echo through the room.

“Finally,” Marlene says.

“I knew it!” Mary exclaims.

“What?” Fabian asks. “Our Remus?” Gideon asks.

“Sirius and Remus?” Peter squeaks.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Benjy says on repeat.

Caradoc is just opening and closing his mouth without any sound coming out.

Remus doesn't say anything, just stares at Sirius wide-eyed with his mouth slightly parted.

The new year arrives almost immediately after, and everyone snaps out of the shock by starting to hug and kiss each other and wishing everyone a happy new year. As they embrace him, people whisper things in Sirius’ ear like ‘good luck!’, ‘I'm rooting for you!’, ‘You've got some guts, Black’ and ‘I can't believe you just did that’.

Except for Remus. In fact, Remus seems to be avoiding Sirius completely.

“Give him some time,” James whispers as he embraces his brother.

Sirius just nods around the lump in his throat. This is why he had wanted to keep his feelings to himself, this is exactly what he thought would happen. Well, maybe it's not really… Maybe he had hoped…

“Give me your keys.”

Sirius, who ended up going home early and had just reached his motorcycle, turns around at the sound of the voice. “Excuse me?”

“Give me your keys,” Remus repeats.

Sirius stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head. “I hate to break it to you, Moony, but me having feelings for you is still no reason for me to give you my bike.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Remus retorts. “But you publicly embarrassing me is still no reason for me to let you drunk-drive yourself into an accident!”

“Drunk-dri- What are you even talking about?”

“Come on, Siri, you must be drunk off your arse.”

“Remus,” Sirius says. “I had one sip of champagne at midnight, and that's it. Do you really think I'd be that stupid?”

Remus blinks at him. “Then why… Then why would you… Why would you get up on the table and…”

“I'll admit that it wasn't my preferred method,” Sirius says. “But I had lost the wager I made with Prongs…”

Realisation dawns in Remus’ eyes, like the world suddenly makes sense again. “Ah, so you didn't publicly embarrass me because you're drunk, you publicly embarrassed me because you lost a bet.”

Sirius frowns. “I can't pretend I also would've done it if it wasn't for the bet, no, but honestly, I think I mostly ended up publicly embarrassing myself.”

“Can you at least try to consider someone else's feelings?” Remus asks angrily. “Do you, or you and James both, actually think it's funny to use pretending to be in love with me as a stake in one of your stupid bets? Did you ever consider what that would feel like for me?”

Sirius can only stare at Remus as he wraps his mind around his words, and suddenly he sees his anger from a whole new perspective.

“Of course you didn't,” Remus says, and he turns to walk away.

“Moony, wait!” Sirius rushes forward and grabs Remus’ arm, spinning him back around. “If you think what I'm thinking you're thinking, it's not what you think.”

Remus just gives him a cold look.

For Godric’s sake, Sirius thinks. He got up on a bloody table and announced his deepest feelings in front of all their bloody friends, he's not gonna let Remus walk away now still not knowing! For the second time that evening, Sirius takes a deep breath.

“I didn't believe James constantly publicly proclaiming his feelings for Lily would ever work, so we made a deal that if it did work, I would publicly proclaim my feelings for you.”

“Your…”

“My feelings. My true feelings. No pretense.”

“So you're actually…”

“In love with you.”

Remus opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. “You're an idiot, Sirius Black,” he eventually manages to say, which might not be as romantic as Sirius would've hoped for, but luckily, he continues. “Getting up on a table like that in the middle of the party, instead of just coming and talking to me.”

“So had I done that… you wouldn't have avoided me all night?” Sirius asks tentatively.

Remus takes a step closer and grabs the lapels of Sirius’ jacket. “My response would've been something like this.” And before Sirius can do anything, he crashes their lips together.

[thowawayuntilfurthernotice]

CW: Racism and slavery.

Alright, let’s open up this can of worms.

Let’s talk about race and how it pertains to Viv’s shows.

No, I don’t think Viv and Adam are inherently racist, they just don’t know how to write for a BIPOC audience.

Viv’s shows (Like most western shows) are written with a white audience in mind. Because let’s face it, white folks don’t like to talk about race. That’s why a lot of shows that do tackle the issue of race and racism do it in a way that’s very surface level, as they don’t want to make white folks uncomfortable.

Even shows that are written by BIPOC writers have to dumb everything down when it comes to race because that’s sadly one of the only ways to get white folks to listen.

For example the Brooklyn Nine Nine episode Moo Moo (Which was written by a black writer) does tackle the issue of racial profiling, but it does so in that after school special way. Where it’s so basic and surface level that it almost feels insulting? And the fact that the episode completely ignores all the systemic racism that’s prevalent in the NYPD somehow makes it even worse.

Seriously, the episode ends with Terry’s application for a liaison job getting denied because he filed a complaint against a racist cop. And Holt’s all like “At least you did the right thing.”

Now, I haven’t really talked about any of the Hazbin/Helluva lore in great detail because it’s a hot gigantic mess of titanian proportions. And trying to make any sense of it from a narrative perspective is headache inducing, but for the sake of this analysis I decided to make an exception.

It’s pretty obvious that the Imps are supposed to represent the lower class, the majority of Imps we see in the series are stuck with low level jobs, involved in shady activities or are willing to kill to survive.

A good writer would have used the concept to highlight the many injustices that are caused by systems that are hell bent on keeping systemic racism alive to ensure that white elites stay in power.

But Viv and Adam don’t give a shit about that, as they know that tackling those sorts of issues is bound to upset their white audience. So they just don’t bother.

The lore feels like set dressing, i.e something that’s only there to make the audience think that there is much more to Viv’s shows than meets the eye, but there really isn’t.

Helluva Boss’ racist class system is introduced, but it isn’t really all that fleshed out. Because Viv doesn’t really care about exploring themes that mirror real world issues, all she cares about is watching her characters fornicate or make out with each other.

Not saying that every adult show has to have a deeper meaning or challenge people’s worldviews, but having a toxic relationship between a slave and his slave master in a dumb demon cartoon is pretty fucked up, not going to lie.

[apothecaryscript]

Japanese "Onomatopoeia" 『オノマトペ/Onomatope)』

There are two types in Japanese Onomatopoeia. One is 「擬音語(ぎおんご/Gi-on-go)」 which is “written sound” as we hear, and the other is 「擬態語(ぎたいご/Gi-tai-go)」 which is “written sound of status” as we look or feel.

1) 「擬音語(ぎおんご/Gi-on-go)」: “sound” onomatopoeias

As examples, let’s compare onomatopoeias for some animal sounds in Japanese and English.

犬（いぬ/Inu）「ワンワン(Wan-wan)」 Dog: “Woof woof” “Bow-wow”

猫（ねこ/Neko）「��ャー(Nyaa)」 Cat: “Meow”

牛（うし/Ushi）「モー(Moo)」 Cow: “Moo”

豚（ぶた/Buta）「ブーブー(Buu-buu)」 Pig: “Oink oink”

にわとり（Niwatori）「コケコッコー(Kokekokkoo)」Rooster: “Cock-a-doodle-doo”

2) 「擬態語(ぎたいご/Gi-tai-go)」 “status” onomatopoeias

This type is onomatopoeias of “status”. An easy-to-understand example is “わくわく(Waku-waku)” which became famous through “SPY x FAMILY.” “Waku-waku” means being excited or thrilled about something you look forward to. Although the status does not have that sound, we can imagine Anya’s facial expression and emotions just by seeing the word.

By using onomatopoeias, we can describe the situation or the person’s feelings in detail with simple and short words. For example, if you want to say “It’s raining,” here are some onomatopoeias, from the lightest to the heaviest;

①「雨(あめ/Ame)がポツリポツリ(Potsuri-potsuri)と降(ふ/Fu)っている」…Raindrops are falling at intervals.

②「雨がポツポツ(Potsu-potsu)降っている」…Just a few raindrops are falling.

③「雨がパラパラ(Para-para)降っている」…Raindrops are falling continuously

④「雨がしとしと(Shito-shito)降っている」…It’s quiet, but certainly raining continuously.

⑤「雨がザーザー(Zaa-zaa)降っている」…It’s raining hard and making a fair amount of noise.

⑥「雨がドシャドシャ(Dosha-dosha)降っている」…It’s raining dangerously hard.

Onomatopoeias have existed since before manga and anime existed, but manga has made us more familiar with them, and they have enabled us to share delicate expressions with visual images using just a few words. So I think you’ll be familiar with them naturally while watching anime or manga, without extra effort to memorize them.

Hereunder I’ll pick up some lines with onomatopoeias from Season 1 episodes;

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From Episode 1 : Maomao

猫猫「たかがウワサ話に何を真剣になってるんだ。こんなのは、ただの憶測にすぎない。すぎないが…ちいとばかし、行ってみるか。そそそそそ…」

Maomao “Takaga uwasa-banashini nanio shinkenni natterunda. Konnanowa tadano okusokuni suginai. Suginaiga…chiito-bakashi itte-miruka. Sososososo…”

Maomao “Why am I taking a rumor so seriously? It’s all just conjecture. But still… I guess I can take a quick peek.”

Episode 13 : Serving in the Outer Court

壬氏「勉強の方はやっているのか？」

Jinshi “Benkyono-howa yatte iru-noka?”

Jinshi “Are you studying?”

猫猫「そそそそそ…」

Maomao “Sososososo…”

Maomao “Sneak, sneak.”

壬氏「おい！」

Jinshi “Oi!”

Jinshi “Hey!”

猫猫「そそそそそ…」

Maomao “Sososososo…”

Maomao “Sneak, sneak!”

「そそそそそ…」: sneak, sneak. (This onomatopoeia might be newly created in this anime.)

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From Episode 4 : The Threat

猫猫「ぴょーん、ぴょん。仕方ない。もう一度、作り直すか」

Maomao “Pyōn, pyon. Shikata nai. Mo ichido, tsukuri-naosuka.”

Maomao “Boing boing. Oh, well. Guess I have to cook it again.”

「ぴょん(Pyon)」： Jumping, 「ぴょーん(Pyoon)」: Jumping (higher or longer)

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From Episode 5 : Covert Operations

やぶ医者「お待たせしました、壬氏さ…しゅん」

Yabu Isha “Omatase shimashita, Jinshi-sa……Shun.”

Quack Doctor “Thank you for waiting, Master Jinshi- Oh.”

「しゅん(Shun)」: Get disappointed and depressed a little

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Episode 6 : The Garden Party

貴園「実際、若いの。だって、主上様を産んだのが…こしょこしょこしょ」

Guien “Jissai, wakaino. Datte, shujo-samao unda-noga… Kosho-kosho-kosho.”

Guiyuan “She is young. She gave birth to the emperor when she was…”!”

「こしょこしょ（Kosho-kosho）(with more comical nuance)」「こそこそ(Koso-koso)」： Talking in secret

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From Episode 6 : The Garden Party

桜花「ムカ～ッ！」

Infa “Mukaaa!”

Yinghua “Grr!”

桜花「キ～ッ！猫猫に謝りなさいよ！！」

Infa “Kiii! Maomaoni ayamari-nasaiyo!!”

Yinghua “Apologize to Maomao!”

「ムカッ(Muka)」 「ムカーッ(Mukaa)」「キーッ(Kiii)」： Getting angry

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From Episode 6 : The Garden Party

猫猫（へえ…こうして見ると、なかなか…。思ったより、お偉いさんなのか。やはり、武官に交ざっても違和感がない。

へえ、さっきの武官も、末席だが、年齢を考えると出世頭か？あのキラキラした宦官はいないけど、まあ、どうでもいい。おっ、それより毒見だ）

Maomao (Hee… Koshite miruto, naka-naka… Omotta-yori, oerai-san nanoka. Yahari, bukanni mazattemo iwakanga nai. Hee, sakkino bukanmo, masseki-daga, nenreio kangaeruto shusse-gashiraka? Ano kira-kira shita kanganwa inai-kedo, maa do demo ii. O, soreyori, dokumi-da.)

Maomao (He looks pretty good there. I guess he’s higher up than I thought. He doesn’t seem out of place among the military officers. Oh look, that officer from earlier. He’s at the very edge, but given his age, I guess that’s still impressive? Our glittering eunuch isn’t there, but who cares? More importantly, food tasting.)

猫猫（…新しいかんざし。宦官もかんざしをもらうのか。そういえば、襟も少し乱れてる。いつものキラキラさもない。うっ、宴席で姿を見ないと思ったら、そういうことか。でも、今なら年相応の青年に…というか、だいぶ幼く見える。こちらのほうが、まだいいな）

Maomao (…Atarashii kanzashi. Kanganmo kanzashio morau-noka. So-ieba, erimo sukoshi midareteru. Itsumono kira-kirasamo nai. U, ensekide sugatao minaito omottara, so-iu Kotoka. Demo, imanara toshi-so’o-no seinenni… to iuka daibu osanaku mieru. Kochirano-hoga mada iina.)

Maomao (A new hairpin? So the eunuchs gets hairpins, too? His collar is a little disheveled, too. Plus his normal glitter is gone. Is that why he wasn’t at the party? But right now, he’s acting his age more than usual… Or rather, he looks quite a bit younger. I prefer him like this, somewhat.”

猫猫（しおらしい。無茶なことを言っているのは承知の上か。いつも通り、無駄にキラキラしてればいいのに。ここ最近の壬氏様は、以前よりもずっと子供のように見えて仕方ない）

Maomao (Shiorashii. Muchana koto’o itte-irunowa shochino ueka. Itsumo-doori, mudani kira-kira shitereba iinoni. Koko saikinno Jinshi-samawa, izen-yorimo zutto kodomono-yoni miete shikata-nai.)

Maomao (How modest. He realizes he’s asking for the impossible. He should just be excessively shiny like his usual self. For a while now, Master Jinshi has seemed much more childish than before.)

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From Episode 7 : Homecoming

猫猫「チョキチョキチョキ…カチャカチャカチャ」

Maomao “Choki choki choki… Kacha kacha kacha.”

Maomao “Clip clip clip. Clunk clunk clunk.”

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From Episode 7 : Homecoming

猫猫「シャーッ！」

Maomao “Shaaaaa!”

Episode 14 : The New Pure Consort

猫猫（ハッ！大事な教材を見せるわけにはいかない！）「シャーッ！」

Maomao (Ha! Daijina kyozai’o miseru-wake-niwa ikanai!) “Shaaaaa!”

Maomao （I can’t let him see my precious teaching material.）

シャー！(Shaaa!) ： Hissing sound of cats or snakes.  It can also show water flowing or something else, depending on the situation.

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Episode 12 : The Eunuch and the Courtesan

壬氏「どよどよ…いじいじ…じめじめ…」

Jinshi “Doyo-doyo… Iji-iji… Jime-jime…”

Jinshi “Wah, wah, boo-hoo, sob, sob…”

「どよどよ…」: Negative aura stagnates around there.

「いじいじ…」: sulking

「じめじめ…」: humid, muggy, gloomy mood

These words express how depressed Jinshi is, and he isn’t actually crying. I guess they’re translated into “Wah, wah, boo-hoo, sob, sob…” since there was no suitable short word.

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From Episode 13 : Serving in the Outer Court

白鈴「フフッ、つやつやのぷるぷるに仕上げておいたから」

Pairin “Fufu. Tsuya-tsuyano puru-puruni shiagete oita-kara.”

Pairin “We got her all dolled up for you.”

「つやつや」: glossy, shiny, dewy

「ぷるぷる」： jiggly, texture like a jelly 

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From Episode 13 : Serving in the Outer Court

猫猫（この間やけど薬の実験したから、ぐちょぐちょなんだよな～。しみる～！）

Maomao (Kono aida yakedo-gusurino jikken shita-kara, gucho-gucho nan-dayonaaa. Shimiruuu!)

Maomao (I just tried out some burn medicine the other day, so it’s really messed up right now. Stings!)

「ぐちょぐちょ」： wet and dirty, soaked and dirty

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From Episode 15 : Raw Fish

猫猫（フグの毒…！あのピリピリした痺れがいいんだ…ああ、食べたい）

Maomao (Fuguno doku…! Ano piri-piri shita shibirega iinda… Aa, tabetai.)

Maomao (Pufferfish poison… I love how it tingles and stings. Oh, I really want some now!)

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From Episode 18 : Lakan

猫猫（何の薬だろう…？）「フン…ぺろり」（…芋の粉か？壬氏様の薬だよな？）

Maomao (Nanno kusuri daro…?) “Fun…Perori.” (…Imono konaka? Jinshi-samano kusuri dayona?)

Maomao (I wonder what kind of medicine this is.) “Lick.” (Potato flour? This is for Master Jinshi, right?”

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From Episode 21 : How to Buy Out a Contract

猫猫（こういうのはベラベラ話さないんだな）

Maomao (Ko-iunowa bera-bera hanasa-nain-dana.)

Maomao (So, he doesn’t blab about that.)

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From Episode 21 : How to Buy Out a Contract

やぶ医者「んん…似てなくもないねえ。唾液を混ぜたら、糊もドロドロじゃなくなるのかねえ」

Yabu Isha “Nn…Nite-nakumo-nai-nee. Daeki’o maze-tara, norimo doro-doroja nakunaru-noka-nee.”

Quack Doctor “Hmm, I suppose so. Maybe mixing saliva into glue would make it less sticky as well.”

「ドロドロ」: muddy, thick, with a nuance of “dirty”

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Episode 22 : Blue Roses

小蘭「大丈夫だよ～。ぽい！」

Shaoran “Daijobu dayooo. Poi!”

Xiaolan “It’s fine.”

「ぽい！」: light tossing or throwing small thing away