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Nothing exciting particularly happens until she swaps out books beneath the avatar of sloth's head, all the titles relation indicating she may have placed them there before he fell asleep. "When did you find time to fit three books beneath me?" Belphie grouches and stretches, "And stop staring at me. It's disturbing my sleep." "You had five at one point. I've been swapping out…" she picks them all up and puts them on the table, "Lord Belphegor, you haven't slept for one second since entering this room. Your consciousness has been fully aware." How- "Are you staring into my mind?" he accuses, obviously itching for a fight. "No, Lord Belphegor. I would not be serving you well to intrude upon your mind. You already hate my species. It's contradictory to give you more reason to." Every time she addresses him she turns fully to him, but the moment she ceases speaking she continues flipping through books in a non-immersive way. Her skill for multitasking is definitely notable. "Scum of the earth." "Noted, sir." Satan snickers. He was trying to keep the noises of amusement down, but it bursts forth despite his mask. Their eyes on him makes him reign it in once more. "Have you been following him since breakfast, Ewa?" The sight of the human sitting beside Belphie then in front of him then trailing behind the avatar of sloth fills his head. He wasn't sure how they would work out, but the clever human has found a way to firmly attach to his brother without the avatar being able to escape yet not breaking any rules of etiquette. Even her formalities did not miss a beat. "No, I have been following him since Lord Beelzebub carried him out of his room. It took me roughly twenty minutes to find his room and familiarize myself with the path from mine to his. I was only waiting for him to rouse for a couple of hours." "Humans are so damn creepy!" he hisses and stands up, stomping off, "Stop following me!" "I can stop following you closely." "Do that!" Ewa nods despite the fact that the avatar of sloth cannot see her and begins to levitate. A quick mutter and she attaches to the ceiling, sticking with as much ease as a lizard. Satan coughs at the unexpectedness of it. Belphie did not notice and looks behind him. "Where is it?" "…" He'll figure it out eventually.

Snippet from chapter 11 of The Madness of Magic (WIP)

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Thank you to everyone who got me to 500 likes!

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50 posts!

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He's still in the marketplace too, talking to one of the people from grandma's work about the artifact she's displaying. I'm not supposed to be here, so I don't creep closer to watch. The thing I really want to see is his tail. When we were traveling from our research house to our city house, I heard some big brothers whispering about our archon being conspicuous. That big word means he's doing a extra bad job of hiding, more than usual. He's already pretty bad at playing dead and being a human. He’s so bad at it that there’s even a rule for the citizens to uphold, though the Millelith won’t arrest you if you break it. Children first learning to speak are taught to not point out Rex Lapis when they see him. They can write a book about it or tell stories, but saying it right in front of him might make him sad or, even worse, disappear. He tries very, very, very hard to not have everyone's attention on him when he's in disguise. I think whatever he tells grandma's work-friend helps her because she bows more than usual when she thanks him. I think he's a bit embarrassed from how he gestures back, but he forgets to make his face change colors again. I hope she doesn't get loud. That breaks the rule a little bit. Too much attention is a no-no unless he tries to obtain it himself (and he doesn’t). I cannot hear what they say over the crowd, but I do recognize the way the syllable for “food” forms on Mr. Zhongli’s lips. Genshin Most of the seller people at the marketplace know my family name, so I don't attract too much attention if I try not to look like I'm following Mr. Zhongli. I did bring my allowance to buy flowers for the aunties in my city house. Sneaking out is not good when you're grounded for a week, but bringing back gifts for relatives makes the loud family members think my mama did the crime instead of me. They use a certain phrase to talk about my repentance. I think the word is earnesty. I’m not sure what it means, but it makes me get forgiven for my mischief faster. Following Rex Lapis around the harbor is my third favoritest hobby and second biggest secret. My first favoritest thing to do is listening to stories, and my second favoritest and biggest secret is not being a young lady. I’m very good at following Mr. Zhongli now that I’ve had so much practice. When I was very little, only four years old, I tried to follow him and would get lost because his legs are so long, even longer than most of the Millelith. My uncles used to be cross with me because it made it seem like they weren’t watching me during business, so I told Mama I was very good at sneaking away and it wasn’t my uncles’ faults. I got grounded from following Mr. Zhongli, well, grounded from sneaking away. I still don’t listen. Baba is fine with me wandering as long as I can see a Millelith at all times. He says he knows little boys like to wander and explore. I don’t know how he figured that out though; I never told anyone the secret I’m keeping better than Mr. Zhongli.

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Snippet from chapter 2 of A Laugh That I've Been Holding (WIP)

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"Belphegor, you're here!" Diavolo's gratingly merry voice greets him, "I would like the contract to be cast before we officially start the meeting. It will make things go faster." "Lord Diavolo," he hopes the poison in his smile finds its way into the prince's system, "What sort of contract is this?" "It is for the safety and comfort of the human. I need your verbal consent to activate it. She does not need to say a word for it to activate." The lord of sloth is reminded of who he is speaking to. A crown prince who is a sentence away from being the only mentioned ruler yet already performing the duties of such—Lord Diavolo does what he wants, when he wants, how he wants and only asks opinions when it is a yes or no question. He couldn't imagine feeling bad for the human, but the predicament is similar. They are both trapped beneath this tyrant for varying reasons. Being simply released and made to play cloudy cake was too easy to be all the prince could want from him. A tie of requited? It sounds like a punishment his brother would subject him to under supervision. He is more than supervised. If anything, this specialty is too good for the human. Breaking his own laws and taboos to keep a sin in line—honestly, would Diavolo stop at anything? Is it a wonder the denizens glorify him? He's the epitome of truly demonic demeanor. He even has the smile and disarming laugh. "How long will it last?" Belphegor refuses to sign up for this supervision without his own knowledge of autonomy. He's a ruler in this realm, regardless of the convict status. "How long will your hatred last?"

Snippet from chapter 7 of The Madness of Magic (WIP)

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"Most dear to our ruler, we greet you," the guard to the right of the palace entrance nods his head, his companion echoing. "I said just Polites is fine when I enter the palace this way. I have no need for that title beyond official business." I mean, for crying out loud, it's not the front entrance. They shake their heads solemnly, "We could never dismiss so easily an honorary member of the royal family's personal guard. The king owes you his life and we our jobs. You will always be a respected person in these walls." There's no dissuading earnesty. "Chin up, then. I trust you'll do your best on the fields." He breezes past the two, but he hears their gasps as he gets out of sight. "Sweet sea and sky, he talked to me!" "Shhhh, he can probably still hear us!" "Isn't he so compassionate and manly?" "Have you forgotten o-" The words flame his cheeks. It is a small secret secret that his notoriety had spiked among those in the guards and advisors after his untimely visit ended in an assassin's death. When it comes down to either his king or his morals, his head bows to one man and not a set of ideals. At least, he was able to slit the throat quickly and end the life there. I make exceptions for my dearest friend and our families only.

Snippet from chapter 2 of A Laugh That I've Been Holding (WIP)

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The feathers get closer when Hermes lowers himself, face oddly close. He has an expression the man does not recognize, studying, studying. "Do you have an opinion on my wings now?" His murmur is just loud enough for Polites to hear it clearly. He reaches for the god, not sure what he wants to grasp but wanting to touch the divinity. Nodding, he replies, "They're more than beautiful, Lord Hermes. Even the feathers back here-" His fingertips trace the lesser sickle feathers, starting from the immediate back and twirling with the tips. The god remains still. He does not realize that he's lost himself in the masterpiece that is his existence until the wings below tickle his own ankles. The thought makes him flush in embarrassment. "Sorry, I- I'm- I didn't-" "You apologize for your worship," Hermes cocks his head. Polites gasps, "No! Never! I simply thought my touch disrespectful because…" The Herald twirls around him like a blown leaf. It's peculiar, but everything about their relationship seems unprecedented. Nothing in the records or tales comes close to what is transposing between them. "I could stop you at any time. A god cannot be beheld by any mortal without their consent. Your logic is silly. Am I not your god?" He states it factually, but the man's heart and mouth gasp. "My- My god?" A mortal can devote themselves to a deity, but they can never claim to own- "You sought me out and studied me since you were just leaving Artemis' domain. I am your god." Polites does not argue. He does not want to.

Snippet from chapter 2 of A Laugh That I've Been Holding (WIP)

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Snippet from chapter 2 of A Laugh That I've Been Holding (WIP)

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If only you would love me in a way that you know. The man entices him gently, like soft sunshine. His kisses are as sweet as biting into a fruit so perfectly firm and juicy. His smile coaxes out an aching delight from the god. He would consume him if only it would not make him be gone. I love you. They strip their garments and entangle limbs, but he does not say it. He does not fear rejection, only dislikes the thought of it. Polites would not. He wouldn't, but does he want to force this creature of smiles to have that expression become worried or strained? He doesn't care. He doesn't, but displeased lovers are a burden. They cannot. They can't, but he is banishing the ideas once more. You're so perfect for me. The way Polites bends under his touch and can turn him into knots is a talent like no other. Ravish him or cherish him—he is a god, and he will take and take and take from this spring. Why should he think of whether it will be too much? Can he not make more of anything? More of anything…yet the thing cannot be multiplied from nil without changing who the creature he adores is. He wants it all, and it matters not how so- Why does he reject me so oft? Hermes tries to hold it all in, the monstrosity of possession and desire. He'll destroy this dear mortal. He'll tear him to shred if he does not keep his claws inside his hands and his fangs at a blunt as he must pretend. Alas, it is too much, the gap between humanity and godhood. He groans, again drowning to stave off his bright mind.

Snippet from chapter 2 of A Laugh That I've Been Holding (WIP)

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Polites isn't thinking straight when he bites down on the being's flesh, but in his defense, he was just lifted ten feet into the air by a squealing voice. He can't even see their face. "Argh! What a feisty mortal," his teeth are shaken off, "I suppose looks are deceiving, considering how cute you look without your teeth bared. Say, aren't you the friend of my great grandson? Polites, I believe." Oh my gods, I just bit Hermes. I'm pretty sure this is Hermes. The flight is a dead giveaway. He knows my name; he knows where I live- Am I going to smitten on the spot? Who will care for the sheep?! "Lord Hermes," he cries out, "I beg your forgiveness. I did not know who you were or my situation." The god hums and sets him down while staying aloft himself. The figure towers above Polites, who has promptly taken a position of kneeling. I'm so sorry, Odysseus. I think I'm going to die. "I'm not one for picking fights, but you did attack me first, mortal. Tell me why you deserve forgiveness." His body's trembles transfer to his voice, "I am in the wrong completely, my lord. I deserve punishment, but please I ask for mercy until the evening time. The shepherd who usually watches this flock is sick in bed, and I offered to take his shift. If I am turned into a rock, there will be none to watch over these creatures." He does not dare look up. Any movement could be his last. Perhaps the god is considering. Perhaps the god is stewing in rage. No common mortal has ever struck a god and lived to tell the tale. Hermes, on the other hand, has been reduced to a blushing mess. The mortal is so cute—have you seen his wide eyes?!—and soft. His curls confused the god for one of his ewe's whom he had named peace. He is trying to quickly get a grasp on his gasping heart and maintain his godly composure, so wishing to snatch the mortal up and keep him with his own creatures.

Snippet from I'm No Pet; I'm A Fluffy Man chapter 1.

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Tw for mention of domestic violence (none is happening in this situation tho)

"I may not want you? You mauled your own inner being in order to avoid a man's caress. Do not trifle with me, wife. I brought no gift and gained interest in your cousin just to be given you because of your devaluing. I wanted a woman of wit, not one consumed in beauty." His fangs are bared in offense rather than hostility. Helen can easily tell by his posture and warning peppery scent. She bares her own teeth, fangs larger than his yet probably less threatening from one without a scent to back it up. "I was only allowed to focus on my looks in order to obtain the highest price. Who cares if an object could be sharp when it is meant to be used as a decoration? You insult me with assumptions and humiliate your own intellect wit-" The King of Ithaca pounces upon his new bride. She's alarmed yet annoyed. Never one to receive rough treatment, she can't but wonder if he's the type to hit his woman. She has had maids with related males who would do such. From whispers and gossip, she knows the best thing to do is bare one's neck and apologize. Must my life be full of submissions and mockery to my being? The touch is painful just from the force. Her skin is too soft to handle it without gasps of pain escaping her. She tilts her head the slightest. Of course, Helen is angered at this misuse of power, but she realizes her growing stubbornness that clouds her mind could leave a maim that a god will not clean up. She does not know this man. "If a man's embrace is what you truly wish, I will give it to you, but if it is not, refuse me now. I do not wish even my private chambers to be fouled by someone taken by force. You may not diffuse a scent, but it shall not sit well with me to be wed to a woman who feels violated by her own spouse."

(Context: They're arguing weeks after being married because Ody didn't sleep with Helen like that even once, but despite that, he ensures that he covers her with his scent so no one doubts her or suspects that her gender may be missing. So she's confused and sort of hurt. Even though she doesn't want to care about how a man values her, her mind and body is still tied up in the trauma and normal society of her being her husband's property. Meanwhile, Odysseus does not care about all'at and is still sour he got the pretty woman shoved on him when he clearly didn't want her hand.)

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ho ho ho where did my motivation go

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ho ho ho where did my motivation go

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Dropped the first chapter of a fanfic :3

A Siren Cannot Sing If Its Throat Is Not Free

Fandom: EPIC: The Musical

Pairing: Odysseus/Poseidon

Rating: Explicit

Current word count: 1959

Warning: Heed the tags~

Summary: A young, unproven Odysseus fought the god of the seas...and lost. But the god's not too angry about that. After all, the loss gained him a beautiful little siren(?). At least, he thinks so. Odysseus doesn't. The king may be currently locked under spell and sporting a tail, but he's no pet for a presumptuous king. It's just going to take more than a tactician's mind to escape this one. Perhaps, his body too.

Or:

An alternative ending and follow-up to episode 40 of "Voice of an Angel," if Odysseus hadn't won.

(This can be read without having read the fanfic this was inspired off of.)

Tag list: @geekyrie

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