#of stars and science and magic // asks

[swan2swan]

...would a one-armed vampire have problems climbing walls?

As in, do her lizard-climb powers come from razor-sharp nails and a supernatural grip, or is it just Vampire Magic that lets her stick to things? Meaning her feet can be shoed and they'll still stick...and a residual limb can just be considered the New Point of Magical Vampire Contact Between Stone and Flesh?

Or is it always just the hands clinging to the stone, and tremendous body strength keeping the body flat (a one-handed handstand, if you think of it, during position shift), meaning the feet aren't sticking to the wall, but just providing support and anchorage while the hands do all the work? If that's the case, losing a hand might mean a vampire can no longer climb walls, because the gripping limb can't switch...unless she's does a sort of hop-skip method. Or applies a prosthesis to maintain grip with the residual limb.

How do three-legged lizards climb? I imagine the fact that they still have three limbs might render the question moot if we're just dealing with grip...and I know there are plenty of athletes, but that's traditional rock-climbing. I am talking full-on Spider-Man style.

[tortoise-teapot]

ahhhh the relief i just felt after deciding avery convinces the veilguard crew that the veil's gotta go (if for no other reason than besides it's the practical, prudent thing to do given its state and nature)(lol and lmao at 'veilguard') and they all figure it out amicably (or at least nonviolently) while facing the larger threat and solas helps clean up the south (after putting up like one million more wards around the black city) and then when the dust has settled he and avery go soothe the blight tesseract thing (takes a few centuries) and then-- ok i'll stop

is it as high tension as the narrative in canon? nope! but it felt like getting in a warm bath

[starsmapped]

updating my tags (again)

[angel-of-depravity]

Specific query: What Colour mana do you favour? Also to add in horny yapping, is there any particular card you find hot?

And yeah Tumblr is notoriously bad in general for notifications. I have lost track of how many times I didn't respond to an ask or message for a a day or two because Tumblr never told me it existed 😅

Kinky autistics unite! 🤭 I actually studied psychology before dropping out of uni lmao (so much money for something i didn't finish 😭😅). I'd probably say kink and bdsm as concepts are sorta special interests for me. I always say I'm a try any kink at least twice kinda person (just in case the first experience was affected by something beyond the kink lol)

AH- A MISUNDERSTANDING. I MEAN THE WITCHCRAFT MAGIC, MY APOLOGIES. I AM A PRACTITIONER OF MAGIC (which. Was very much fuel for the drabble involving sigils and knifeplay and such 👀)

Alas as far as magic the gathering I know Not Very Much (but I do know someone who does and has that level of interest in it)

And oh yeah. Ngl college is a scam for what you pay to do with it. It should be free (but that's wandering a lil too off the path I spose)

And that's actually kinda smart to try something twice! Scientific method-esque really. Making sure there wasn't a wild variable that made the first time unable to be replicated. Fascinating actually 👀

[pankesitopank]

thoughts are thoughting zzzzz ... enha hyungline measuring dick sizes BUT. through reader's tummy bulge while inside her.. hagahahshbjhracgjt

Enhypen hyung line measuring their d!cks by your belly bulge!!!

cw: sex w/no plot - size kink - belly bulge - ... it is kinda obvious, i never know what to put in here...

note: lol i said thoughts and they are more like some silly lil scenarios hehe.

i hope that's what you had in mind. i was between two options, like this or like an ultra orgy (which i suppose would actually be like a gangbang... i don't know) where each member fucks you and sees how deep they are... but i assumed you'd want it as a reaction.

In case you want that version or the maknae line, don't hesitate to tell me!!!!!

HEESEUNG

You don’t even realize it at first — the way he slows down, the way his hand drifts from your hip up your stomach mid-thrust, the way his eyes go dark and unfocused like he’s seen a ghost.

You’re too busy moaning, legs spread wide and trembling, hips tilted up so he can get deeper, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. But Heeseung’s not hearing it anymore. He’s watching. Staring.

At your tummy.

Where he’s pressed so deep that there's a little bump showing through the softness of your skin.

“Oh… fuck,” he breathes, more to himself than to you. His hips still, cock throbbing inside you, and his palm flattens gently over your belly, right where he sees it.

“What is it?” you ask, voice thin and dazed.

Heeseung doesn’t answer right away. He’s fixated, blinking slowly like his brain is short-circuiting. Then—

“Is that… me?” His thumb traces the bulge, and when your body twitches under him, his breath catches. “Is that my dick? Baby… holy shit.”

The way he says it sends a jolt straight through your core. You’re suddenly hyperaware of the stretch, the way he’s filling you, how deep he must be to actually show on the outside. Heeseung is silent for a moment, then looks up at you with pure awe — wide eyes, lips parted.

“You’re so small,” he murmurs, slowly starting to move again, grinding his hips to press in even deeper, deeper, deeper. His hand never leaves your belly. “I’m so deep inside you, I can see it—fuck, I can feel it right here.”

He presses down gently on the bulge, and you whine, your entire body clenching around him. He moans at that, letting his forehead drop to your shoulder.

“God, I can’t believe this. You’re made for me,” he whispers. “You’re taking all of me.”

Heeseung gets weirdly quiet after that. Focused. Like the science of it has consumed him. His hand keeps tracing over the swell, even when he pulls out a little and thrusts back in to watch it appear again. Like magic. Like proof.

“You feel that? Right here?” He presses your hand to your belly, placing your fingers directly over it. “That’s me, baby. That’s my cock. All the way in.”

You’re squirming now, overstimulated, overwhelmed, gasping every time he shifts and the pressure changes. He’s whispering the filthiest things, words that make your brain go static—

“You’re gonna remember this every time you look at yourself. That bulge? That’s my shape, baby. No one else can make you feel this full.”

He finishes with your hand still on your belly, trembling under his, both of you watching that obscene little bump move with every deep thrust. It’s not even about his orgasm anymore — it’s about staying inside you, making you feel him long after he’s gone, proving that no one can stretch you like he can.

JAY

Jay is cocky even before he gets inside you — smirking, teasing, brushing your inner thigh with his fingertips like he’s already won. And to be fair… once he’s buried deep, all thick and slow and smug, he kind of has.

“You feel that?” he says, gritting his teeth as he bottoms out. “Shit, you’re tight.”

You’re already seeing stars, legs shaking around his waist, trying to adjust to his size. Jay doesn’t give you much time. He starts thrusting with that confident rhythm, like he knows exactly how to break you down. And then—

He pauses.

Still buried to the hilt, his hands slide up your sides, slow, possessive, until they reach your belly. He presses down. Pauses again.

“Wait a second…” He furrows his brow, then pushes just a little harder, and you gasp when he hits a sensitive spot inside you—and outside. You watch his expression change instantly.

“No fucking way,” he mutters, eyes going wide. He presses his hand flat to your tummy, then looks up at you with this crooked little grin.

“Is this me? Right here?”

You try to respond, but all that comes out is a wrecked little “uh-huh,” and Jay just laughs—deep, warm, dripping with satisfaction.

“Well, shit. I knew I was deep, but this?” He taps the bulge lightly, then rolls his hips slow and low until your back arches. “This is next level.”

And then it’s like a switch flips.

Jay becomes feral. He keeps his hand on your belly, palm firm, holding you in place, using the pressure to feel himself move inside you. The way his cock drags against your walls is already too much, but now? Now, it’s like he’s watching it happen from the outside too.

“Look at you,” he growls. “You’re so full, it’s visible. I’m stretching you open like a fucking glove.”

He shifts so you’re more folded up under him, angling your hips just right to make the bulge even more prominent — and then he thrusts deep. Your vision goes white.

“Tell me who makes you feel this way,” he demands, voice tight with lust. “Come on, baby. Who reaches you right here?” Another thrust, harder. “Say it.”

“Y-you—Jay, it’s you, it’s all you—”

“Damn right it is.”

He leans down and kisses you, open-mouthed and desperate, while his hand keeps stroking the bump his cock makes through your belly like it’s a trophy. His pace gets rougher, driven by the obscene feedback of watching himself ruin you.

By the time he comes, he’s panting into your neck, hips jerking, whispering

“God, baby, you’re so full of me, look at what I do to you.” And when he pulls out and sees that soft bulge slowly fade?

He actually groans.

“Fuck… I gotta get a picture of that next time.”

Hiii angel!! You checking in for Jake & Sunghoon? Because Part Two is right here, hot and filthy and absolutely unhinged — exactly like we promised.

Get comfy again, because these two are about to join the bulge-obsessed club in their own unique, messy ways.

JAKE

Jake knows he’s big. But it’s not something he’s cocky about—he’s just… shocked. Every single time. And this? This is a discovery.

You’re riding him, knees on either side of his hips, hands braced on his chest as you slowly bounce in his lap. He’s watching you with half-lidded eyes and parted lips, moaning with every downward grind of your hips. And you think he’s going to keep his hands on your thighs like usual, let you have control.

But then his palm slides up your front. Fingers splayed wide, moving higher, until he stops just below your ribs. He blinks. Looks again. And you watch him freeze under you.

“Wait… wait, wait—what the fuck is that?” His voice goes higher in pitch, caught somewhere between panic and awe. “No way—babe, hold on—hold on.”

You gasp when he pushes his hips up into you suddenly, chasing the feeling, and his hand flies to your tummy—right over a firm little bulge pressing against your skin.

His jaw drops.

“Oh my God, is that me?”

You nod, dazed, and he goes absolutely feral.

“No way. Oh my God. Oh my God.” He keeps repeating it, over and over, like he’s malfunctioning. His hand is just hovering, hovering—then he presses, just a little, just enough to feel the shape of himself move inside you. You clench down around him immediately.

“Jesus Christ—” he moans, nearly coming on the spot. “I didn’t think I was that deep. That’s me, babe. That’s my dick. In your stomach. What the fuck?”

You can barely speak because his words are too much, his thrusts getting faster as he stares at your belly like it’s the holy grail. He can’t stop touching it, tracing it, pressing it, pulling out a little just to watch it disappear and reappear again.

“Look at it—look.” He grabs your hand and puts it over the bump. “You feel that? That’s my cock in your guts, baby. I’m so fucking deep inside you, it’s not even normal.”

You whimper, and Jake groans—loud, desperate, messy.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he pants, hips bucking up into you with a new urgency. “No one else can take it like you do. You were made for me, you have to be.”

When he finishes, he’s still inside you, palm warm over your belly like he can’t bear to let go of the feeling. He looks up at you with the most wrecked expression.

“Next time I’m filming it. That’s insane. That’s so hot. You’re gonna let me do that again, right?”

SUNGHOON

Sunghoon’s not loud about it. Not at first. He’s quiet, concentrated, lips parted, brows slightly furrowed in focus like he’s studying you.

You’re lying on your back, legs folded up around his waist, and he’s deep inside you — slow, deep strokes that make your eyes roll back and your fingers twist into the sheets. Sunghoon is breathing hard, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead, but his hands—

His hands are pressed firm to your belly.

You don’t even realize why until he lets out a shaky breath and says, almost like he’s not meaning to speak out loud:

“...I can see it.”

You blink down at him, and his eyes meet yours—dark, wide, starving.

“Baby,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I’m so deep inside you… I can see where I am.”

He slides one hand up your belly, following the subtle bulge with reverent fingers. He presses gently. You twitch. He moans—hard, broken. His thrusts pick up immediately.

“Oh my God,” he gasps, like he’s genuinely overwhelmed. “You’re so tight. So fucking warm. And I’m this deep? I’m… inside your tummy?”

His tone gets breathless, almost pleading. He cups the bulge with both hands now, head dropping forward so he can kiss it. Kiss it.

“Fuck. Fuck—look at how small you are,” he groans. “I’m too big, aren’t I? You love it though. You love how deep I get.”

You’re already unraveling under him, but Sunghoon’s not done. He starts rolling his hips, staying pressed to your stomach like he needs the pressure, needs the confirmation that he’s that far inside.

“This is mine,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “No one else gets this. No one gets to see their cock inside you like this. Just me.”

The possessiveness in his voice destroys you.

He fucks you like he’s trying to keep that bulge there permanently. And when you finally come apart, shaking and sobbing and stuffed full, Sunghoon keeps his hands right where they are, stroking the place where he was deepest.

“Still there,” he murmurs, smiling faintly against your skin. “Even after I’ve finished. Fuck, I love this.”

[jellyfishsthings]

The Things You Say

navigation , dc navigation

Summary: Jason yearning for a nerdy girl who constantly talks about her new books or new science inventions, he doesn't understand shit and they have to look stuff up constantly trying to keep up with her

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

Jason knew pain. He knew the taste of blood and the sound of a heart flatlining. He knew what it was like to dig his way out of a grave with his bare hands, lungs full of dirt and rage. He knew war. Loss. Fire.

But none of that prepared him for the experience of falling for someone like you.

He also knew two things for certain:

One: he was not, and never would be, a science guy.

Two: he was completely, helplessly in love with the weird girl who never stopped talking about subatomic particles like they were fairy tales.

He met her in a bookstore, because of course he did. Gotham’s oldest secondhand shop, tucked between a closed-down deli and a tattoo parlor. She was in the nonfiction aisle, holding a hardcover titled Quantum Entanglement and the Fabric of the Cosmos, murmuring to herself while frowning at the margins.

Jason should’ve walked away. Should’ve grabbed his Hemingway and gone.

But instead he found himself saying, “Is that English?”

She looked up.

Big glasses. Hair half-up, half-falling. A tiny scowl, like he’d just insulted her childhood dog. “It’s physics.”

He blinked. “I gathered. Still looks like math’s evil cousin.”

That got a laugh. Or something like it. A half-smile, crooked and unsure, like she didn’t laugh often and wasn’t sure she should now.

Jason tilted his head. “You work with this stuff?”

“I study it.” She pushed the book against her chest. “I’m trying to understand quantum coherence in biological systems. Mostly theoretical. I bore people.”

“I don’t mind theory,” Jason said, which was a lie, but a nice one.

She stared at him for a long second. “You’re trying to flirt with me.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “How am I doing?”

“Terribly.”

He grinned. “You want coffee?”

She hesitated.

“Not a date,” he added quickly. “Just... if you want someone to listen while you explain quantum thingies.”

“Quantum thingies,” she repeated. “Tempting.”

It was supposed to be one coffee. It turned into four. Then dinner. Then late-night texts, where she sent him screenshots of new studies and he replied with bad memes and pictures of books she’d made him read.

Jason wasn’t used to this—whatever this was. There was no game here. No dramatics. Just this girl with a constellation of freckles and a mouth that moved too fast when she got excited.

She’d sit cross-legged on his couch, hair up, socks mismatched, spouting things like:

“Did you know cephalopods can edit their own RNA in real time?”

Jason, who was halfway through re-reading The Count of Monte Cristo, would look up and go, “Cepha-what?”

“Octopus brains. They’re insane.”

He had a notes app. No joke. It read:

Quarks (ask which one is the cute one)

Octopus RNA = science magic

Don’t say atoms are tiny planets—she hates that

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to understand. He did. Desperately. Because her eyes lit up like stars when she talked, and Jason wanted to know what it was like to hold a universe like that in his head.

Because you talked about neutrinos over coffee. Neutrinos. Subatomic particles. And you said it with a smile like it was common small talk, like most people spent Sunday mornings curled up reading quantum mechanics papers instead of the funnies.

Jason pretended to get it. He even nodded sagely.

He did not get it.

"They're fascinating," you said once, feet tucked under you on his old beat-up couch, eyes lit like they held galaxies. "Like these ghosts of matter. They pass through everything, almost impossible to catch. It's like trying to bottle a secret."

"Uh-huh," Jason said, staring at your lips. Not because he was being disrespectful. But because they moved when you talked, and sometimes he understood those more than your words.

He googled them later. Spent two hours falling down a scientific rabbit hole so steep he got a headache, just so he could maybe ask the right question next time. So he could deserve to be in the same room as your mind.

You never made him feel stupid.

You never made him feel like he had to prove himself. But Jason was built of sharp edges and pride. He came from alleys, from blood-streaked streets and textbooks that were ten years too late. You were made of stardust and curiosity, of words that leapt like fire from your tongue.

He wanted to meet you there.

So he read. And re-read. Fell asleep listening to science podcasts he barely understood. Texted Tim questions like, “What the hell is a muon?” and got responses like, “Why are you asking me this at 2AM?”

You were working on something new. Something about microfluidics, which sounded made-up but wasn't. Your whiteboard was filled with squiggles and Greek letters, and Jason stood behind you one afternoon just... watching.

"You know," he said finally, leaning a shoulder against your wall, "I'm starting to think you might be the smart one in this relationship."

You turned, brow quirked. "Only just starting?"

Jason laughed. It cracked something open in him. "You know what I mean."

"I do," you said, crossing to him. You had ink on your fingers. Pen behind your ear. Your shirt was inside out. Jason thought you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "But I'm not in love with me. You are."

He blinked.

You kissed his cheek, then went back to your board, humming. As if you hadn't just sent his soul straight out of his body.

Jason spent that night learning about laminar flow.

Sometimes, you talked so fast you forgot to breathe. You’d get this wild look in your eyes, like the whole universe was cracking open and only you could see it.

Jason lived for that look.

You told him about CRISPR once, gesturing wildly with a fork in a shitty diner, eggs going cold.

"It’s gene editing," you said. "Like molecular scissors! You can cut DNA—literally edit life. Isn’t that insane?"

Jason chewed his toast. Nodded. Took a mental note to google "molecular scissors" the second you hit the bathroom.

He didn’t get it. Not really.

But he loved how your face lit up. Like discovering was your religion and you were halfway to ascension.

He wanted to believe in something like that.

The problem, of course, was that he kept falling harder.

It hit him slow at first—like rain soaking into the collar of your coat. He’d look up in the middle of a lecture she didn’t know she was giving and realize he hadn’t heard a word.

Because she was smiling. Because she was alive in that moment in a way that made the world blur.

And then one night it hit him all at once.

They were on his fire escape, watching the sky turn blue-black over Gotham. She had her legs pulled up to her chest, hoodie sleeves covering her hands, talking about something called CRISPR and how gene editing could eventually reverse certain degenerative conditions.

Jason lit a cigarette. Didn’t smoke it. Just let it sit in his hand.

“You ever wonder,” he said, “how you ended up where you are?”

She blinked. “All the time.”

“I used to think I was supposed to be something. Like... some big cosmic screw-up happened and I got turned into this.” He gestured vaguely. “A walking wreckage.”

“You’re not a wreck.”

Jason didn’t answer. Just watched her through the smoke.

“You read the books I send,” she whispered. “You ask questions. You try. That’s more than most.”

He looked away. “You make me want to try.”

She leaned into his shoulder, quiet.

That night he dreamed she was stardust and he was gravity. Always falling toward her.

Jason didn’t call it love. He didn’t know if he deserved to.

But he was the one who brought her soup when she got sick, even if he burned the rice.

He was the one who asked her to explain particle spin six times and still got it wrong.

He was the one who, during one of her meltdowns about failing a grant application, cupped her face and said, “You’re brilliant. If the world can’t see it, that’s not your fault.”

She cried into his shoulder for an hour.

One night, you fell asleep with your notes scattered across his bed. Jason gathered them carefully, reading snatches as he did.

"Theoretical modeling of fluid behavior in low-gravity environments..."

He smiled.

You’d joked once that you were building something for NASA. He wasn’t sure if you were actually joking.

He sat beside you, brushing hair from your forehead. You sighed in your sleep.

Jason Todd, child of Gotham's gutters, held your research like it was sacred.

He didn’t understand the math. But he understood what it meant to love something so fiercely you stayed up nights chasing it.

He understood what it meant to chase you.

It wasn’t easy.

You didn’t always get his silences. His scars. The way he sometimes drifted mid-conversation, haunted by a past he couldn’t shut up.

But you waited.

You asked.

You never made him feel like a puzzle to be solved. Just a story worth reading slowly.

One day he caught you reading War and Peace. Not for class. Not for work. Just... because.

"You know that’s, like, a thousand pages, right?"

"Only 1,225," you replied without looking up. "You should try it."

Jason chuckled. "You trying to turn me into a nerd, sweetheart?"

You looked at him then, all sharp eyes and soft affection. "You already are. You just don’t know it yet."

When you said "I love you," it was after explaining something about black holes.

Jason had no idea how you got from "gravitational collapse" to "I love you," but he wasn’t complaining.

He’d spent so long being angry. Being alone. Being something sharp and armored.

You cracked through it all with equations and post-it notes, with quiet mornings and whispered facts about tardigrades.

You made him laugh. Think. Google shit.

You made him feel.

He didn’t always understand what you said. He never fully grasped string theory.

But he learned her favorite coffee order, and the way she curled her toes when she was focused, and how to tell when her anxiety was starting to spiral.

He learned how to love her without needing to understand every atom.

Because she made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a cosmic mistake after all.

He was just a man. With a girl. And a heart that beat a little faster every time she said, “Hey Jay, guess what I learned today?”

And that?

That he understood perfectly.

And that was enough.

[cherrygarcia-07]

Absolutely no pressure, babes. Writing should be fun, not stressful!

What thoughts do you have about say…early seasons Spencer being completely whipped for his girlfriend? He has absolutely no idea how he landed this really awesome gal, but there she is, his beautiful girl, who wants to listen to him, spend time with him.

Serendipity // Spencer Reid☕��

Thank you so much for my first request🥺 your support means so much! I got a little carried away, this is definitely more elaborate than what you asked, I hope you like it anyway but lmk if you want anything a little more playful and light and I can totally give that a go too!

Synopsis: Spencer Reid has never looked for love, believing it was simply just not in the cards for him. That was until you stumbled into his life, changing his perceptive on life- and on himself.

Pairing: early seasons glasses! spencer x reader

Genre: deep fluff

Word Count: 3k

Notes/Tags: bees as a catalyst for love because why the hell not, infodumping as flirting, talks about constellations (from me? shocker), lot of references to spencer’s past bullying & home life, hes down BAD bad he literally studies what to do on a date, princess and the frog reference at the end just pretend it didn’t come out in 2009 okay <3

masterlist

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Spencer Reid had always been a man of science, not of superstitions or of coincidences of the universe. While he found stories fascinating, to him that’s all they were- stories. He believed in facts and numbers, things that were tangible and real and he never indulged in any kind of magic of destiny. That was until he met you. No amount of research, no book he threw himself into or study he conducted could ever account for just how he ended up with you. He wrecked his brain trying to calculate the statistical probability of this happening and how you could have appeared right when he needed you, but for once in his life he was stumped.

He’d never been one to look for love. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it, in fact he felt it like a rock in his chest where his heart should be, heavy and aching behind his ribs as it yearned for what it thought it could never be. It was simply something Spencer believed just wasn’t meant for him. He’d never seen himself in the happy faces of couples he passed on the street, he never related to the dreamy, put-together romantic leads he’d seen in movies, rather he saw himself in isolation. In solitude. A lone star with no constellation. He was there, that much he knew, and he twinkled in his own way, but not in any way that drew attention. Just enough to show that he was alive, just evidence that he existed up there too. He had no connections around him, no story to be told and no greater picture that he was a part of. He felt more like a torch imitating a star, a false light that didn’t dazzle quite as authentically as it searched the dark for what it needed rather than just resting in what it had. Spencer had made his peace with this though- at least he thought he had. After all, the stories behind the constellations are just myths. They’re simply just things humanity had attached meaning to with no real science or history behind them, and he truly believed that.

That’s why you were so baffling to him.

It started with a bee, of all things. It was Spencer’s turn to do the coffee run for the team in the middle of a local case, his steps weighing beneath him with exhaustion despite it being the middle of the day as he dragged himself to the door of the café. He had just wrapped his fingers around the door handle and was gathering the little energy left in him to swing it open when a sudden scream rang out behind him, jolting him awake as he dropped his hand and spun to face the noise. On edge from the case, his mind rattled through a thousand dire possibilities as he mentally prepared to jump into action. What his eyes landed on, however, wasn’t any kind of crash or violent attack like he had feared, but rather a girl… swatting a bee. The panicked lump in his throat cleared as he caught his breath and watched you flail your arms in the air as you continued squealing, coffee flying out of the small hole in the top of your takeaway cup in every direction. Deciding to put you out of your misery, as it was still his duty to protect no matter how small the stakes, he took a step closer and with one heroic wave of his arm the bee was gone.

There was a feeling he couldn’t quite place somewhere deep in his chest as he took in your expression; big dazed eyes flooding with relief as they watched the culprit flew away; soft cheeks painted pink in the aftermath of the chaos; and lips parted ever so delicately as small puffs of air escaped them, before they spread into a brilliant grin that took over your whole face. Laughing lightly, you reached out and gently held his arm to grab his attention, not realising you’d had it the whole time.

“Thank you so much. You saved my life there.” Your voice chirped, though he barely registered it through the flustered rush of blood pounding in his ears.

Spencer looked down to where your hand still rested on his arm. Usually this was the part where he would recoil, politely but firmly snatching his arm back as he mumbled something about germs and bacteria and pathogens. But he didn’t pull away. Why didn’t he pull away? A beat of awkward silence passed as he stuttered internally, trying to get his mouth to cooperate with his brain as he failed to tear his gaze away from your eyes.

“It was a drone.” He groaned at himself in his head. Respond normally, idiot his brain yelled.

For a second, your brow furrowed as you bit your lip in thought. “I’m sorry?”

“It, uh-“ He stammered, painfully aware that your hand was still on his arm. “It was a drone. A male bee. It wouldn’t have hurt you.”

Nice going he cursed himself. Spencer held his breath as he braced himself for the inevitable reaction he was all too familiar with; the awkward hum as the other person pulled away, the barely masked grimace on their face at his compulsive need to drop facts at any given moment, and finally one of the many variations of ‘I’m running late, I better get going” among other excuses to stop talking to him. Except it never came.

Instead, you tilted your head to the side curiously, a thoughtful look on your face as you stared at the space in the air where the bee had been just moments ago. You were still touching him.

“Do male bees not sting or something?” You asked, the genuine interest in your voice taking Spencer by surprise.

He almost wasn’t sure what to do. If he wasn’t used to people actually listening to him when he rambled, someone asking him for even more information was practically unheard of.

“They can’t sting,” he begun, a mix of confidence and excitement at your interest bubbling up in his words, “stingers aren’t compatible with their anatomy. The stinger is essentially a modified ovipositor so it only exists on the female bees so they can lay their eggs. The stinger also isn’t needed for male bees for any defensive purposes since they have no role in defending the hive either so, uh.” His voice trailed off as he cleared his throat, his confidence dipping as he realised how much he was speaking. “Yeah, perfectly harmless.”

He sheepishly met your gaze once again, still half expecting to find that disinterested, disapproving look in your eyes. You finally pulled your hand away from his arm and oddly, Spencer found himself mourning your warmth through his sleeve and shocked himself with how much he wished you would reach for him again.

“That’s actually good to know.” His heart raced as you flashed a grin at him. “I’ve always been terrified of bees. That little fight you saw just now is a regular thing for me.” You replied with a giggle so sweet Spencer thought he should bottle it and pour it in his coffee- if he ever remembers to go in and get it.

“It’s a pretty common phobia, but actually bees have a lot of positive symbolism that contradicts people’s connotations about them.” His felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He ignored it.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Spencer noted the way your fingers drummed against the coffee cup in your hands, realising you had your drink already and there was really no reason for you to be here anymore. You were choosing to be here with him. For a moment, he felt like he’d had the breath knocked out of him and he felt his heart beat so hard behind his shirt he worried it would break out.

“Most commonly, they’re associated with hard work and community but in a lot of cultures they also represent prosperity and the circle of life. In ancient cultures they even believed bees to be of divine wisdom and they were seen as a symbol of guidance.” His cadence was suddenly a lot livelier, much more sure of itself as it evened out and strayed from the quiet shake of his words earlier.

“A symbol of guidance?” You repeated, not so subtly eyeing him up and down, adoring the nerdy way his glasses slipped down his nose as he spoke. “Maybe that’s what that bee was doing here today.”

There was a flirty undertone to your voice, not that Spencer noticed. Girls never flirted with him, or at least he convinced himself they didn’t. He’d spent far too much time on the receiving end of older girls in school pretending to like him for their own amusement and so he’d stopped looking for the signs entirely until they just began to pass him by.

“What do you mean?” He asked quizzically, his head tilting like a puppies in confusion.

“It guided you to me.”

His phone began ringing again- no doubt the team wondering where their coffees were, but he couldn’t even hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“Do you need to get that…?” You trailed off, trying to catch his name.

“Spencer.” He managed to croak out eventually. “And no- well I probably should actually, but it can wait.”

His doe eyes were blown wide, his mouth hanging open like a fish in a stunned state you didn’t yet know you would grow to love. You bumped his arm in a playful manner, holding back a smirk when his still dazed eyes darted between your face and your hand on his arm once again.

“Give me another one before you go, another nice bee thing.” You smiled softly, staring up at him through your lashes, and the invitation to teach again pulled him back to reality as he snapped into action instantly.

“This isn’t necessarily anything to do with bees themselves but have you heard of the Beehive Cluster?” He smiled fondly when you shook your head. “It’s a cluster of around a thousand stars within the Cancer constellation- described by Ptolemy as a nebulous mass. It’s named after its resemblance to a beehive, both in shape and in symbolism- the stars together in harmony like the bees.”

“That sounds beautiful, Spencer. You know a lot about the stars?” He nodded eagerly, but not smug. More like a man who was passionate about what he knew and was eternally grateful to have someone to share it with. “Well you’ll have to take me stargazing some time, it looks like I’ve got a lot to learn. What do you think?”

It was as if he’d been hypnotised, your proposal like the magic word that snapped his confidence back like elastic as his jaw dropped again immediately and he became a stuttering mess right there in front of you.

Spencer had a lot of explaining to do when he arrived back at the BAU empty handed.

Fast forward a few unfathomable months down the line and here he was, somehow lying beside you in bed watching the moonlight drape over your sleeping frame like the blanket wrapped around your waist. A heavy but pleasant feeling tugged at his consciousness, unsure whether it was from the late hour blinking on the clock or the love-drunk haze he always seemed to be in around you (though he would happily bet on the latter).

Afraid to touch you and disturb your sleep, Spencer let his eyes wander over you lovingly. His breath hitched with admiration as if it was his first time looking at you, overwhelmed and quite frankly astounded at the fact you were even here. With him. He gazed over your hands -your soft, gentle hands that pushed his glasses back up his nose with a touch so delicate against his face that he forgot about every hand that ever struck him there; your doting, attentive hands that buttoned his cardigans each morning when he was rushing too much to care about it himself; your tender, caring hands that combed through his hair as he cried into your shoulder after a case that hit him particularly hard. He let out a shuddering breath, his trance travelling to your lips, parted in your sleep and rosy like a cherub’s. Those same lips that harboured your sweet voice and that flashed your heavenly smile his way and made him weak. Those lips that reassured him that he was the only thing that mattered when he felt he was the only thing that didn’t. Finally, with bated breath, his focus shifted to your eyes that shone like the north star. His Polaris. His guiding light home, always waiting in the dark with open arms for him to fall into whenever he was lost. Those enchanting eyes that saw the beauty in everything- that somehow saw it in him.

Spencer was someone who valued his privacy and he had tried to keep the relationship to himself for a while, but working with a team of profilers and the fact he wore his heart on his sleeve meant it didn’t last very long. Before your first date he had shown up to work a little fancier than usual, like a child on their first day of school, knowing he would have to meet you straight from the office. Derek had immediately caught onto his gelled back hair and elaborate tie, embroidered with a sea of stars, and had thrown a few teasing comments his way along with his signature brotherly smirk. Gideon in a fatherly manner had straightened his tie for him before he left, patting him on the back and holding back a proud smile. The next day, when the grin Spencer wore pulled at his lips so hard it may as well have been stitched in place, his walls came crashing down and he told the team everything.

Spencer would never admit it but he’d studied beforehand, scouring the library for anything and everything even remotely romance related. As it turns out, being years below your peers your whole life doesn’t really open any doors in the dating world, often leaving him tuning out his emotions over a solitary game of chess, but he was determined to do everything he could to learn to be the perfect gentleman for you. At the restaurant, he pulled your chair out for you before seating himself closest to the door to protect you from the breeze whenever it swung open. Afterwards he walked you home, lingering close enough to breathe in the intoxicating smell of your perfume but refusing to touch you uninvited lest you think that was all he wanted from you.

Eventually, you approached your front door and you stopped for a moment, turning your head up towards the blackening sky, the stars not quite poking their pretty little heads out yet.

“What’s the matter?” Spencer asked, concerned as you sported a slight pout.

“I wanted you to show me the Beehive Cluster.” You sighed, dropping your gaze to the floor, a crease appearing between your brows that he found himself wishing he could kiss away, touched that you’d even remembered what he’d told you.

Your head snapped back up as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a notepad and pen with a small smile. You watched, confused as he frantically scribbled in silence, not daring to speak incase you burst the focused bubble he was in. After a moment, he glanced back up at you with a bashful expression, shyly holding out the piece of paper, now torn from the book.

“Until next time.” He said softly, barely audible but impactful nonetheless. Heart melting, you took in the scribbled illustration of the cluster on the page, fingers delicately tracing the ink like it was sacred.

That same drawing now lived framed on the nightstand beside where you slept, lit up by the moonlight creeping in through the curtains. The memory played over in Spencer’s mind on loop and he thought about waking you, overcome with the urge to pepper your face with a thousand kisses for every painful memory of his past you’d overwritten. For every girl that had asked him out as a joke; for every boy that made him feel inferior; for every time he had refused to let himself believe he could be in love, there was a countless amount of new memories with you. From his understanding of the world, love had always looked like something that left you in pieces more often than it put you back together. Love looked like a broken home and a broken family. Like something that only worked out in fiction and sometimes not even then. Love was a forbidden fruit hanging illuminated in an artificial light that looked just real enough to trick people into taking a bite, punishing those who dared think they were deserving of it. What he never even dreamed was that love could look just like this. Like sci-fi movie nights curled up together on the couch wearing matching mis-matched socks, or like quiet evenings spent comfortably side by side saying nothing but feeling everything. Truthfully, he never knew love could look like you.

All this time, Spencer believed it was his place in the universe to sit alone and observe, twinkling humbly from his place in the dark. He believed he was simply meant to tell the stories, not be part of one himself. Little did he know his place was beside you, his Evangeline, in a harmonious beehive all his own.

Spencer Reid had always been a man of science. But that night, as you lay beside him, he thought about the old mythological beliefs that bees were once divine messengers between mortals and the Gods- and he thought that maybe he believed it. Tears pricked his eyes as he leaned in and pressed a feather light kiss to your forehead and he found himself thanking that serendipitous bee that day for bringing him everything he didn’t know he was missing.

-

[mantisgodsdomain]

Here's a vocaloid song I watched that gave off vibes that, while not exactly the same as Marigold's, is probably in at least a related category.

I wanted to hear your thoughts on it.

(Also, tw for medical/dental horror.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UdpwOLSKMLA

Oh, we think we know what song this one is.

(pause while we click the link)

We've already watched this one! Novocaine is a Snakemouth Den song, we feel, and to a lesser extent a Dr. H.B. song. Not Marigold, though, just adjacent.

[velvetbeeez]

meet the child who beneath the blanket of stars had once wished to see the world from everyone's eyes. . .

a lover, a poet, a dream recurring . . .

hi hello hola bonjour namaste I am saadgi, my name means simplicity but it has always been a joke around school how my name fits me as a hat does a frog. I am seventeen and i brim with 3 am thoughts, ideas and wonders. I love spending all my time in my room doomscrolling and binge watching my favorite shows (tua, hi) until they do not ever feel the same again but i occasionally also love a good party with free alcohol. I vape like it's lifeline, a habit i must get rid of soon. My favorite colors are purple and pink. my birthday is on 28 December, i am a winter's daughter through and through, i can not stand summers, they drain my energy every time. I live in India (summers are lethal) i love our food, never hearing any criticism. I love the nighttime, i stay up the entire night just to sleep till 2 pm during the day, i love the stillness, the serenity, the soft humming of the moonlit stars in the background of my head. It remains all mine and i can not help but cherish it, i love how i can stare at the wall for an hour and no one would question me. I am an empath, i feel too much and it is a curse as well as a boon. I am the 'too woke' friend, I have had many of my close friendships broken because of the said wokeness. I am a capricorn sun, leo moon and aquarius rising, analyse me through that however you will. I am a sucker for numerology, i am a number 1, ruled by the sun, a leader, a winner. My hobbies include writing first and foremost, i am at my core when all the layers are peeled off, a writer, i sold my short stories to other kids for a sweet treat when i was 10, i wrote my first poem on my 8th mother's day.

she who wished, she who fulfilled . . .

My childhood was spend inside my head. My mind was always scattered in 10 different directions, i have lived different lives since forever, i was always in my palace, always in the beyblade arena, i was a vampire, i was a spy, i was dracula's mortal wife, i was a witch hunter...but i also was a student, i was slow at understand things of this reality, i used to daydream in class all the time, i remember my teacher yelling my ear off once but i couldn't hear her until she threw a chalk at my head because i was too busy being a pink haired vampire. I remember once asking my mom why i couldn't see the world from my best friend's pov....so yeah.

I was a witch and a master manifester even as a child. I remember bringing dirt from the garden and putting on it whatever leaves i could find and chanting a made up spell so rain would fall during hot summers....it always did....you are welcome, my neighbours. I got whatever i wished for, a thought of my favorite movie would pass my mind, it's being telecasted on the television. I think my english teacher is the coolest person on planet earth?? i am her favorite student. I want my favorite chocolate? dad has brought home a bag of it.

It is i believe in my veins to bend the thread of fate with a practiced swish of my fingertip, to whisper to the moon and have it return to me as an echo.

the multiverse left bare . . .

I had always known there was more to life, when i read 'earth is the only planet with life' in my grade 5 science book, i knew there was something unmistakably wrong with that sentence.

I found shifting at the worst time possible, summer 2022, 9th grade. I hated how i looked, i had an ugly haircut, i was in a trio (canon event). The sun blazed above my head everyday, everything was sticky smelly and clammy, i had a crush on a guy who had a crush on another girl, i doubted my competence, i was failing maths and science. I was losing my magic (or i believed i was). I had only recently found subliminals and decided i was not special enough for them to work for me.

Finding shifting then felt more of a burden then one lifted...i feared that i would try and fail, and when you think of failure it takes it's largest form and looms upon your silhouette like a victorian ghost unleashed mistakenly. I gave up on shifting, i decided it was not real, just an internet joke...after 2 years i found @hrrtshape's blog (forever grateful) and the lock on the door that i had been staring at for 2 years vanished, a flower bloomed inside of me, hope ignited like firework within my soul, i found shifting again and in a better place, i believed in it again, this time it felt like a sparkling wrapped present, like something given not taken.

characters across the multiverse who are but a reflection of me. . .౨ৎ

jo march, todd anderson, lexi howard, devi vishwakumar, loki laufeyson, klaus hargreeves, diego hargreeves, edmund pevensie, lucy pevensie, nadine (the edge of seventeen), lady bird, priscilla presley (not a character but...), lucy gray, cecelia lisbon, lux lisbon, celine (before trilogy), lisa swallows, miles teller, cassie ainsworth, tony stonem.....and many more i suppose, might edit later.

heavily heavily and i do mean heavily inspired by the amazing @kerryshifts

[sparrows4bats]

So I saw another edit of Jondami and Would you Fall in Love with Me Again from EPIC the Musical and I have gone down the rabbit hole and may never resurface. (I am obsessed with musicals and world mythos, and this is hitting all of my special interests at once) I know other people have done their versions of this, so this is mine.

What if when Jon goes to space, there isn't a dimensional time difference? What if each second of those six years of absence is felt by those who love him?

They all search for Superboy, tirelessly, relentlessly, but they can't find him. The Justice League, the Green Lantern Corp, and every ally they have ever made across space and time look for a child lost in the stars. And they all fail.

Clark never stops searching even though they all beg him to.

Lois mourns but still prepares for her son's return.

Konner and Kara pick up what is left behind because the world didn't stop needing their help when Jonathan Kent dissappears, but they ache in their grief.

Damian just stops.

After six months go by with no news, he gets desperate, studies magic and science for a way to bring his best friend home. It never works, and every empty lead and false hope breaks him.

So Damian searches and waits.

He joins Clark on his search in any way he is able, defying his father. He stays with Lois when Superman travels too far for him to follow. He sits in Jons kitchen and eats at his table consumed with longing.

When Clark comes home empty-handed each time, Damian holds them both as they cry in his too small arms. Lois and Clark thank him every time. Look at Damian and see a boy who believes just as much as they do that Jon lives still, that he will be back, that misses him.

All three hope.

Jon didn't plan to be gone long, didn't leave purposefully, or give any of them momentos. Everything he ever owned looks as he left it, ready for when he returns. His books, his clothes, his unmade bed.

Damian doesn't try to return to normalcy without Jon at his side.

Even when his father threatens to take Robin from him if he does not return to Gotham, Damian just rips the symbol from his chest and leaves the cave. What is the point of being a hero without Jon beside him? They promised they would do that together, and Damian would not betray him.

The rest of the batfamily try to encourage him to take a new name, a new team, or make new friends, but Damian refuses every attempt. He will do those things with Jon when he returns, not a second sooner.

When Bruce tells him he is waiting on a ghost, Damian feels his heart break, and he leaves permanently. Jon wouldn't be welcome in Gotham, anyway. Not with the no meta rule.

Lois and Clark take him in. So Lois is never alone, and they can wait together.

Clark refuses to give Damian back to Bruce. Damian asked to stay, and Clark will be damned if ever lets a child leave again if they dont want to. Bruce loses his temper and accuses him of using Damian to replace his dead son. Batman and Superman don't speak to each other again for a long time.

Talia, surprisingly, gives them temporary custody. She understands Damians longing and will never forsake any part of him he inherited from her.

Nightwing and the others visit the Kent house weekly and accept that Damian will not leave. They learn to be a better sort of family, loving their brother and starting to hope again for his sake. All of the bats, besides Bruce, have dinner with Lois and Clark twice a month. The seat beside Damian is always left empty.

Damians pets join him at Kent Farm, and Damian can't help but greive because this is the future he and Jon used to joke about under their covers during sleepovers. They used to imagine living together with as many animals as they wanted and building somewhere safe to come home to.

At least Damian can have one of Jons dreams waiting for him.

He never mentions how Jon used to joke about marrying him one day, a childish proposal sealed in a pinky promise while Damian rolled his eyes. He remembers the way Jon pecked his lips afterwards. The memories burn now.

Damian realised long ago that he is in love with Jon. He will tell him one day.

After some time, Lois encourages him to go back to school. When she sees how bored he is, she gets him placement tests, and when he tests out, she sets him up at an online university. He accomplishes degree after degree and starts to help Lois with her research. They take down several corrupt labs and corporations together.

Damian goes to med school after seeing how many die without proper care while working with Lois. Damian hopes that Jon will be proud of him for still saving people, even if it's different without him.

They all still search. They all still cry when they find nothing. They all still wait.

Then one day, Jonathan Kent returns.

The Watchtower picks him up, and Dick calls them as soon as it happens. Lois and Damian are home at the time and rush to the Zeta tube with a desperate speed.

Clark is already waiting for them when they arrive.

They walk, the three of them, on shaky legs, holding their breath.

When Damian opens the door, he can't believe his eyes.

"Jon."

The man turns, and Damian freezes, beside him Lois sobs.

He is taller, Damian, despite his growth spurt still has to look up at him. His hair is longer, his black curls almost in his eyes. He has lost his baby fat and instead grown broader and more defined. There is a scar on his jaw and Damian dreads to think how he got it. His eyes, though, are the same bright blue, tired and heavy as they look.

Clark and Lois embrace their son falling to their knees, but Damian stays back until they are done.

Jon hugs his parents tightly, and when they come back to reality, Lois whispers in his ear too softly for Damian to hear, but Clark smiles at them and turns to look at Damian.

Then, Jon breaks the hug and walks towards him.

"Damian." He says as he reaches for him, voice so full of emotion that Damian wants to cry.

"Is it you? Is it really you, habibi?"

"I'm not the same as I was, I don't think I could ever be. With everything I've seen and everything I've done." Jon starts hesitantly.

"I killed, I hurt people, I tricked, I manipulated, I did everything I could to come back home, to come back to you." He admits. Jon looks away in shame, and Damian can't bear it. "I'm not what you were expecting."

He closes the distance and grabs Jons face.

"I don't care!"

"But-"

"No, you remember what you promised me?!" Damian demands.

"Of course! That we'd be heroes together."

"And?"

Jon blushes. "And that I'd build you a farm, give you a safe place to come home to." He swallows nervously, "That I would marry you one day."

Damian smiles so wide, uncaring of the tears running down his face. "I have waited for six years in your house, on our farm for my future husband."

Jon gasps, but Damian continues.

"I love you, Jonathan Kent, I don't care what you have done or will do. I don't care if you're different, grown, or anything else. You are mine."

Damian takes a breath and stares into his eyes. "In this life and the next, I will always wait for you. I dont care how long or what you had to do. You came back to me, and that is all that is important."

Jonathan closes the distance between them and kisses him, pouring passion, desperation, and astonishing love into it.

When he draws back, he whispers against his lips desperately, "Always, my love. I love you, I love you so much. I will do anything to bring me back to you, oh god. Damian."

Damian feels something unwind in his chest and pulls Jon closer still. They'd never let go of each other again. Here, in Jon's arms, Damian felt whole for the first time in years.

"I missed you every moment," Jon says finally.

"Me too."

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Magic-Related Vocabulary

for your next poem/story

Amulet: An object worn, carried or placed to guard against negativity or other vibrations. A protective object.

Astral Projection: The practice of separating the consciousness from the physical body so that the former may move about unhindered by time, space or gravity.

Bane: A poison; that which destroys life. "Henbane" is poisonous to hens.

Banish: To drive away evil, negativity or spirits.

Beltane: An ancient folk-festival day observed by Witches that celebrates the fully blossomed spring. April 30 or May 1.

Censer: A vessel of metal or earthenware in which incense is burned. An incense burner.

Chaplet: A garland or wreath of flowers or leaves worn on the head, as in the chaplets given to classical Greek heroes as symbols of honor.

Clairvoyance: Literally "clear seeing." The ability to perceive facts, events and other data by other than the five "normal" senses, unaided by tools.

Curse: A concentration of negative and destructive energy, deliberately formed and directed toward a person, place or thing.

Divination: The art of finding things out through means other than the five senses, using tools such as tarot cards, crystal balls, and so on.

Enchant: "Sing to." Magically speaking, a procedure whereby herbs are aligned with your magical need prior to their use.

Evil Eye, The: Supposed glance capable of causing great harm or fear, once almost universally feared.

Fascination: The art of placing other people under one's power through sounds, gazes, colors, etc.

Hex: An evil spell; a curse.

Incubus: A male demon or spirit which was believed to sexually tempt and abuse women; the succubus was the corresponding female demon.

Infusion: An herbal tea.

Lughnasadh: An old harvest festival celebrated on August 1st or 2nd in Europe, reverencing the abundant (harvested) fruits of the Earth. It is still observed by Wicca.

Magic: The practice of causing needed change through the use of powers as yet undefined and unaccepted by science.

Magic Circle: A ritually-created circle (or sphere) that offers protection to the magician during magical rites.

Magician: A person of either sex who practices magic.

Magus: A magician.

Midsummer: The Summer Solstice, usually on or near June 21st, one of the Wiccan festival days and an excellent time to practice magic.

Pendulum: A tool of divination which consists of a heavy object suspended from a string or cord. The end of the cord is held between the thumb and forefinger; questions are asked and their answers divided by the movements of the pendulum.

Pentagram: A five-pointed star which has been used in magic for centuries. Highly symbolic, it is also a protective device.

Poppet: A small doll made of various substances to influence a person's fife. In herb magic, either a carved root or a cloth image stuffed with herbs. The use of poppets is known as "image magic."

Power Hand, The: The hand you write with; the dominant hand. This is a magically potent hand.

Samhain: An ancient festival day marking the beginning of winter. Also known as "Halloween" and All Hallows Eve. It is observed by Wicca with religious ceremonies.

Scry: To gaze into a pool of ink, fire, crystal ball, etc. to awaken and summon psychic powers.

Spell: A magical rite.

Talisman: An object worn or carried to attract a specific influence, such as love, luck, money, health; as opposed to an amulet which keeps forces from its bearer.

Wicca: A contemporary religion with spiritual roots in prehistory that worships the life-force of the universe as personified as a God and Goddess. It is sometimes erroneously referred to as "witchcraft."

Witch Bottle: A bottle or jar containing herbs, pins, shards of glass and other objects, designed to protect a person or area from evil and curses. Usually buried or placed in a window.

Witchcraft: The practice of natural magic, as that of herbs, stones, and candles. Spell-casting. Still used by some to refer to the religion of Wicca.

Wort: An old word meaning "herb." Mugwort preserves the term.

Excerpt from Cunningham's Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs More: Word Lists ⚜ Esoteric Vocabulary ⚜ On Magic

[sillyheheguy]

•~°◇ Just the Little Human Things ◇°~•

Prompt: Humans and demons are different, no duh. There are some things that we do naturally that shocked and freak out the brothers. Here are some random few (each linked to a specific brother, like 1 means Lucifer, etc).

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor.

• ~ ° ◇ ° ~ •

1. Cracking bones.

You spent a long day dealing with your studies. Your fingers cramped. So you cracked them. Lucifer was appalled. He thought you just broke yourself. Lucifer goes straight to you and asks if you just broke your finger or something along those lines. After calming him down and just explaining that you were popping the air bubbles in your joints because they ached, he was more appalled.

Humans can get air bubbles in between their bones?! That's so weird. Demons can't crack their joints. If they make any cracking noise, they probably cracked their bones.

At least you're not hurt. That is all that matters to him.

2. Adrenaline.

Demons have instincts like humans, but they don't have adrenaline. They have the same amount of strength and power, no matter the situation. No amount of tension will give them a random boost in a fight. Humans do. It's called adrenaline (SHOCKING). Boosting our stamina, pain tolerance, reaction time, and strength. It's like a superpower! A superpower that Mamon was unaware of at the time.

You both were running from trouble, as normal. Even though your body was in its flight or fight, no amount of adrenaline will make you run as fast as the fastest demon in hell! So how was he supposed to know! It was until there was a dead end. The door was locked. Mammon was about to use some magic to open it because the angry demons were very close behind you guys. before he could, BAM! You ram right into it and smash it open

What. The. Hell??? Are you on steroids or something?!

Once you escape, Mammon has so many questions. He now thinks adrenaline is so cool.

3. Being social animals.

Demons aren't necessarily social creatures. Some will go millennias without talking to anything, and they don't go insane. It's just a lot of demons like socialising. Levi is not one of those demons, though. Levi will go some months without speaking to anyone, even some days without speaking to his brothers. He thought humans were the same. He didn't know that it could cause mental issues like insanity or depression.

Levi only found out because he was watching a horror anime, where a human character was isolated for months and went insane. He thought it was fiction, but then he asked you. As soon as yes leaves your mouth, he is in utter disbelief.

Now he feels bad whenever he has you holed up in his room. Don't you want to socialise? He wouldn't mind if you went to party with Asmo and Mammon... At least he'd try not to mind. Are you sure you're okay with just him? Yeah? ... He thinks he is okay with just you, too.

4. Humans on the moon?

When you came to devildom, even though Satan wasn't that close to you, he did research about humans out of curiosity. Satan learnt about human history, myths & legends, science (a.k.a human magic), medicine, and even decided to research human technology.

The only thing he didn't know was that humans went to the moon. When he was doing human history, he was doing ancient human history. Being a demon who was immortal, Satan classed anything from the last 100 years as morden to him. He was alive during it. He should know when it happens. But somehow, no one talked about the humans landing on the moon.

You wanted to know if demons had also gone to space, and he answered with, "No. Some of angels have... What do you mean also?" Humans, flightless and magicless fleshbags, have gone to the stars?!

5. Baby teeth falling out.

Asmodeus wanted to see childhood pictures of you! He was going on about how cute you were until he saw that in one of your photos that you were missing a tooth?! Asmo didn't know you were missing a tooth! He immediately tried to look in your mouth for that missing tooth, but there was a tooth there?! What?! Did you get some sort of tooth surgery?

Demons and angels don't have baby teeth. They are made not to naturally lose any of their teeth, and if they lose a tooth, they have to get a surjery to get it back. So, this concept is crazy to them.

Asmo was thankful it was natural. You made him panic!

6. Stretch marks.

Demons have rapid regeneration, so they don't get stretch marks. The scars just heal immediately as it isn't a deep wound to them.

Beelzebub had no idea humans could get them. He thought some demon attacked or tried to put a hex on you, but once you explained it to him, it blew his mind. Losing or gaining weight causes these marks? Humans are stretchy??? That's cute.

Beelzebub likes running his hand over the marks. It's fascinating to him.

7. Modern medicine.

Belphegor knew a lot about humans due to his human phase when he was an angel. There isn't anything that you do that surprises him. Belphie even knows humans went to the moon because he is an astrology girlie. But he is clueless about morden medicine.

Belphie lost interest in humans when he fell, obviously. He didn't want to interact with humans after his hatred for them developed. So he has no idea about morden human medicine.

Humans don't use frog eggs anymore? They were unsafe? Really? Belphie thought they worked. He did not know humans were just as unknowledgable as he was back then. Belphie learnt after you accidentally got a paper cut, and Belphie said he'd go get the plasters and leeches.

You had to tell him that the leaches were outdated by a few decades.

•~°◇ Have a kind day! ◇°~•

[natsswife]

iris x fem!reader (nsfw, fluff) minors, cishet ppl DNI ill hunt yall down like shauna w mari

she gets the job DONE and managed to get u pregnant dont ask me how i wrote this while ovulating n listening to the giver by chappell, lesbianism is just that magic ok (sorry if theres some errors, english is not my first language and im not using a translator bc im tryna improve my C2 level frfr) cw: pregnancy, suggestive, iris is aware of what she is, my first time posting here im still learning how to put content warning so pls bear w me!!

⋆｡ the most sweetest wife ever, couldn't be more proud to have fulfilled your dream (and hers also)

⋆｡ you think it was impossible at first, after all shes just an AI companion, how can she push science limits just to accomplish one of your dreams right?

⋆｡ but your happiness is everything to her, even if she has to fight god and her own system herself to see you happy having a mini you and hers in your arms she will<3

⋆｡ at first you have to reassure her that you're happy even if she couldn't give you a baby, is not like you will love her less bc of that, you just thought that tiny human that is the living image of you and her is would be beautiful

⋆｡ but yk how is iris, she wont give up that easily so she’ll investigate by herself, searching on her tablet, digging in her own system how or what she can do to change something in her to fulfill your wish

⋆｡ and she DID!! but wont tell u until its done, she maintains daily checks on your cycle and wait until youre on your most fertile days, nd will accompany this be making you lots of drinks that benefit ur system, teas and juices full of vitamins that'll help your ovulation<3 

⋆｡ one night she makes your favorite dinner, you notice she has been more touchy and clingy these few days but you just cant figure what she wants:(!!

⋆｡ probably wants to try something new in bed or similar, and acc it wasn't far away from that!!

⋆｡ that same night she was the one who treated you like a princess, you could tell she was more delicate by the way her hands caressed your hips, how her wet lips kissed your lower stomach down to your pussy, taking her time giving sweet pecks to your clit before inserting her fingers 

⋆｡ she takes her sweet time down there before the real action starts, making you moan and squirt countless times like nothing before, you could swear something has changed in her, its not like she never pleased you like that, but this time was different.

⋆｡ it was the way her hands never stopped caressing your stomach, the way her eyes never left yours while her tongue worked wonders in your pussy, the way she kissed you with lust and love like it was gonna be the last time, like she has a purpose she needs to accomplish 

⋆｡ after that night you decided to just ask her what’s wrong, not like u wanted to complain for making you see stars, the milkyway and god itself in one night, but she was up to something and you needed to know what is it.

⋆｡ and thats how the sudden new left you in pure shock for a bit, u weren angry but rather shocked, how did she manage to hijack her system? was it even possible in the first place?

“dont worry my darling, i found the safest way to make it possible for both of us, arent you happy”

“well… yeah its- im i mean i’m amazed but HOW?”

“subtle changes in my system, i have managed to find a way to change things, it was rather easy since i am a companion model, set to accomplish my partners desires”

⋆｡ and with that the best months of your life came

⋆｡ it was shocking at first, especially when the blood test came out positive, when the first ultrasound showed a cute tiny baby size of pea, you could swear you heard iris sob a little when you heard their heartbeat, knowing there was an actual baby in there with their tiny hands, fingers, heart developing to become the most sweetest thing you both will have in your arms in some months.

⋆｡ as the months pass iris became more protective, she was always helping you with house chores before but now shes the one in charge of everything house-related, wont let u lift a single finger, and is there for anything you need.

⋆｡ will spend whole day if its possible kissing your belly, caressing and giving sweet kisses while talking to your baby, pleading them to move just a little bit so she can feel them

⋆｡ will prepare the most delicious meals full of vitamins to help you prepare for the breastfeeding

⋆｡ you got weirdass craving a 3 a.m but r too scared to go to the kitchen bc 3 a.m is the hour where the devil hangs around with their demons besties in everyone's house? dont worry iris there to prepare your super delicious sandwich which includes strawberry jam and lemon savored chips and why not also fight demons only for you<3 

⋆｡ shes even there when ur pregnancy hormones strikes and make u feel like the most sex deprived women where you only need her tongue licking your pussy and make you cum in 69 different positions till you feel pregnant again, doesn't matter, she will get the job done no matter what<3

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ｡˚

do not translate w/o permission, copy or use for ai training, train your useless brain instead<3

[cadyflowers]

pac : ur future kids personalities🥰

hiiii i'm cady🌷 take a deep breath, connect to your heart, and choose the pile that calls to you most🌷

pile i: omg such sunbeams :33 ur kids radiate warmth and emotional intelligence. they’re the kind of kids who sense when someones feeling off and offers a hug or a handmade card!! empathetic and intuitive, they may be a bit shy at first

theyll love cozy spaces, baking, and animals!! the type to rescue bugs instead of squishing them- they may enjoy journaling, art, or music, expressing their feelings in safe, creative ways. ull find them asking deep questions at bedtime like, “do clouds have feelings?” 🥺 strong cancer or pisces energy or even virgo

pile ii: ur kids are pure fire. independent, curious and unafraid to speak their truth they’re likely to be the one climbing trees, asking big philosophical questions, and starting passion projects at age 7.

theyre bold, vibrant, and sometimes a bit chaotic but never unkind. they believe in fairness, and theyll stand up for the underdog every time. their style might be a little eccentric and they’ll want to pick out their own clothes from the start.

they might be drawn to science experiments, mythologies, role-playing games, or building their own “museum.” aries, sagi, or aqua.

pile iii: ur future kids are otherworldly. very dreamy, imaginative, and wise beyond their years, those little souls might surprise you with their poetic nature or sudden philosophical insight. theyll feel deeply connected to nature, art, or the stars.

they may enjoy reading, fantasy stories, drawing magical creatures, or talking to their imaginary friends well into elementary school.

they might also be highly sensitive to energy and need a calm home to thrive. with strong placements in neptune or the 12th house, this could be a pisces, libra, or a scorpio baby.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing Fantasy

Every author has their preferred genres. I love fantasy and sci-fi, but began with historical fiction. I hated all the research that historical fiction demands and thought, if I build my own world, no research required.

Boy, was I wrong.

So to anyone dipping their toe into fantasy/sci-fi, here’s seven things I wish I knew about the genres before I committed to writing for them.

1. You still have to research. Everything.

If you want any of your fantasy battle sequences, or your space ships, or your droids and robots, or your fictional government and fictional politics to read at all believable.

In sci-fi, you research astronomy, robotics, politics, political science, history, engineering, anthropology. In fantasy, you have to research historical battle tactics, geography, real-world mythology, folklore, and fairytales, and much of it overlaps with science fiction.

I say you *have to* assuming you want your work to be original and unique and stand out from the crowd. Fanfic writers put in the research for a 30k word smut fic, you can and will have to research for your original work.

2. Naming everything gets exhausting

I hate coming up with new names, especially when I write worlds and places divorced from Earthly customs and can’t rely on Earthly naming conventions. You have to name all your characters, all your towns, villages, cities, realms, kingdoms, planets, galaxies, star systems.

You have to name your rebel faction, your imperial government, significant battles. Your spaceships, your fantasy companies and organizations, your magic system, made-up MacGuffins, androids, computer programs. The list goes on and on and on.

And you have to do it all without it sounding and reading ridiculous and unpronounceable, or racist. Your fantasy realms have to have believable naming patterns. It. Gets. Exhausting.

3. It will never read like you’re watching a movie

Do you know how fast movies can cut between scenes? Movies can balance five plotlines at once all converging with rapid edits, without losing their audience. Sometimes single lines of dialogue, or single wordless shots are all a scene gets before it cuts. If you try to replicate that by head-hopping around, you will make a mess.

It’s perfectly fine to write like you’re watching a movie, but you can’t rely on visual tricks to get your point across when all you have is text on a page – like slow mo, lens flares, epically lit cinematic shots, or the aforementioned rapid edits.

It doesn’t have to, nor should it, look like a movie. Books existed long before film, so don’t let yourself get caught up in how ~cinematic~ it may or may not look.

4. Your space opera will be compared to Star Wars and Star Trek

And your fairy epic will be compared to Tinkerbell, your vampires to Twilight, your zombies to The Walking Dead, Shaun of the Dead, World War Z. Your wizards and witches and any whisper of a fantasy school for fantasy children will be compared to Harry Potter. Your high fantasy adventure will be compared to Lord of the Rings.

You can’t avoid it, but you can avoid doing it to yourself. When people ask about your book, let them say “oh, you mean like Star Wars” to which you then can say, kind of, except XYZ happens in my book. These IPs will never fade from the public consciousness, not while you exist to read this post, at least, but Harry Potter isn’t the only urban fantasy out there. Lord of the Rings isn’t the only high fantasy. Star Wars isn’t the only space opera.

Yours will be on the shelves right next to them, soon enough, and who knows? You might dethrone them.

5. Your world-building is an iceberg, and your book is the tip

I don’t pay for any of those programs that help you organize your book and mythos. I write exclusively on Apple Notes, MS Word, and Google Suite (and all are free to me). I have folders on Apple Notes with more words inside them than the books they’re written for.

If you try to cram an entire college textbook’s worth of content into your novel, you will have left zero room for actual story. The same goes for all the research you did, all the hours slaving away for just a few details and strings of dialogue.

There’s a balance, no matter how dense your story is. If you really want to include all those extra details, slap some appendices at the end. Commission some maps.

6. The gatekeeping for fantasy and sci-fi is still very real

Pen names and pseudonyms exist for a reason. A female author writing fantasy that isn’t just a backdrop for romance? You have a harder battle ahead of you than your male counterparts, at least in the US. And even then, your female protagonist will be scrutinized and torn apart.

She’ll either be too girly or not girly enough, too sexy, or not sexy enough. She’ll be called a Mary Sue, a radical feminist mouthpiece, some woke propaganda. Every action she takes will be criticized as unrealistic and if she has fans who are girls, they will be mocked, too.

If you have queer characters, characters of color, they won’t be good enough, they won’t please everyone, and someone will still call you a bigot. A lot of someones will still call you a bigot.

Do your due diligence and hire your army of sensitivity readers and listen to them, but you cannot please everyone, so might as well write to please yourself. You’re the one who will have to read it a thousand times until it’s published.

7. Your “original” idea has been done before, and that’s okay

Stories have been told since before language evolved. The sum of the parts of your novel may be original, but even then, it’s colored by the media you’ve consumed. And that’s okay!

How many Cinderella stories are there? How many high fantasies? How many books about werewolves and witches and vampires? Gods and goddesses and celestial beings? Fairies and dragons and trolls? Aliens, robots, alien robots? Romeo and Juliette? Superheroes and mutants?

Zombies may be the avenue through which you tell your story, but it’s not *just* about zombies, is it? It’s about the characters who battle them, the endurance of the human spirit, or the end of an era, the death of a nation. So don’t get discouraged, everyone before you and everyone after will have written someone on the backs of what came before and it still feels new.

[inevesgf]

“come here, idiot” and oscar? 😇

"come here, idiot"⠀ + ⠀oscar piastri ⠀༉ ‧₊˚. ⠀prompt list here.

oscar comes to realize how wonderful of a chef his girlfriend is and wants to join in on the fun, though he can't bake to save his life.

content + warnings: oscar piastri + female reader, swearing, basically pure fluff. word count 1.1k+.

i fear oscar is so cutie i can't.. still working to plow out more of these blurbs so stay tuned x if you would like to find other works from this special or read my other works, click the link here ⋆·˚ ༘ * notes + reblogs are heavily appreciated and don't forget to tell me your thoughts via comment, reblog or ask.

the kitchen was alive with warmth and light, the morning sun spilling through the window and illuminating the scattered flour that dusted the counter. a cozy hum of hozier’s music played softly in the background, filling the air with a calming tone as you fished in the cabinet for ingredients. a tattered apron was tied snugly upon your waist, and you were certainly in your element as the aroma of vanilla and butter filled the air. 

baking was your santucary, a place where you felt free and at ease. if anything big or small was bothering you, you’d dive head first into some intricate recipe and bake the blues away. usually alone in the kitchen, you found yourself getting lost in the world of flour and sugar, whipping up pastries as if you were a five star chef, but you were quickly pulled out of your fantasy when a voice erupted, the tone laced with confusion.

“is it egg first or flour first?” oscar questioned, turning over to you as he raised a brow, holding the ingredients in his hands. a small laugh escaped your lips at his state, the boy's hair tangled in every which way as flour covered his apron. “it doesn’t matter, you know,” you teased, placing a small tube of vanilla extract on the counter next to him, “it’s all going in the same bowl, osc.”

you knew baking with your boyfriend wasn’t going to be all that easy, yet you didn’t expect him to be entirely clueless. growing up in a household full of girls, you were sure oscar had helped his mother out once or twice, but that clearly wasn’t the case – the boy was practically running around like a chicken with his head cut off.

“i don’t know how you do it,” oscar mumbled, trying to multitask between talking and cracking the egg delicately into the bowl, “you have to be so patient for this shit – what’s the fun in baking if you have to wait for the sweets? it’s no fun.” a joking tone fell from oscars lips as he discarded the empty egg shell into the trash bin, looking over at you with a smug look.

“that’s the fun part, you see, it’s like a little reward at the end of all your hard work,” you chuckled, smiling over at him softly. oscar swore up and down he was a big boy: able to follow the instructions and bake the cookies by himself, but he cleary wasn’t all that as he began to struggle. pouring some flour into the measuring cup, oscar raised a brow in confusion, his gaze looking similar to a baby who just saw its reflection for the first time. 

you playfully rolled your eyes, advancing towards oscar as if to offer help. “it’s not rocket science, osc,” a teasing tone poisioned your words, causing oscar to grumble and step to the side, “let me show you.” you moved gracefully over to oscar, your apron tied securely as you began to measure out flour with careful precision. you poured it into a mixing bowl, the powder puffing gently into the air. oscar huffed out, baffled at how you could do this so effortlessly, his gaze focused intently on the task at hand.

“see?” you hummed, “easy-peasy.” to which oscar found himself grumbling once more, coming back over to the bowl as he picked the spoon up from the flour covered cabinet. “can’t you just work the magic while i stand here and look pretty?” he teased, shoving the spoon into the bowl, “i can be your second-hand – toss the ingredients to you.”

a small laugh fell from your lipsticked lips again as you hummed, shaking your head back and forth. “i mean, you’d be great help, but this is supposed to be bonding time, remember? not myself baking while you sit and watch,” you joked, splashing a tad of vanilla into the bowl oscar began to stir, using his muscles to blend the thick batter. 

“i’m not great help, you know,” oscar laughed, huffing to blow the hair away from his forehead, the strands falling lazily as it clouded his view, “can’t keep myself together enough to bake.” you found yourself chuckling at his words once more, tightening the apron before lazily pushing the strand away from his amber eyes. 

you hummed again, leaning your body against the table, studying him softly as he blended the mixture in the bowl. the morning sunlight peered through the window, the suns rays illuminating the most miniscule of oscar’s features. you couldn’t help but oogle at the way his muscles flexed, the tiny freckles decorating his forearm comparable to the details on a roman statue.

“you may not be great help, but you’re wonderful company,” you teased, your eyes dancing over his face as his eyes looked over to you, a small smile overtaking his visage, “and i’ll pay you handsomely with these cookies for helping out even a little.” as if your words were the best hums of thought he had ever heard, the smile on oscar’s face only grew larger, a satisfied whistle falling past his lips as he mixed the batter.

oscar finished stirring the mixture, bringing the spoon to his lips as he looked you dead in the eye, his eagerness to piss off his ‘master-chef’ girlfriend promiment in his actions. keeping the spoon close to his lips, oscar stuck his tongue out, savoring the rich flavor as he licked the spoon clean. though as oscar relished the moment, a generous dollop of the batter betrayed him, slipping from the spoon as it landed squarely on his cheek.

startled slightly from the cold batter making contact with his skin, oscar froze, his eyes widening in surprise as a chuckle slipped past his lips. he glanced in your direction, your laughter bubbling up like the batter itself – bright and infectious. 

“come here, idiot,” in a moment of playful tenderness, you stepped forward, brushing the batter off his cheek with the soft pad of your thumb. your touch lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary, causing even the man you loved for years to blush deeply at the affection.

“there,” you spoke, smiling as you wiped your finger on a nearby dish towel, “now you’re ready to keep baking, chef osc.” oscar grinned, the playful banter hanging in the air like the sweet scent of the cookie batter.

the atmosphere was charged with a loving intimacy, a sense of joy enveloping the two of you. the laughter and warmth radiating between both of you felt as sweet as the pastries you were making, binding they two of you together in a dance where you played teacher.  it didn’t matter to you as you grew patient with oscar and his lack of baking skills, helping him step by step. even if he couldn’t use something as simple as a measuring cup, he was still your new baking buddy – one that didn’t fail to make you laugh as he made a mess of your small kitchen.

© inevesgf do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or claim any of my works as your own. notes + reblogs are heavily appreciated! ⋆·˚ ༘ * find my other works here.