#but sometimes (a lot of the time) it still feels like its out of my hands yknow? almost like

[dark-moonlust]

Cοckwarming Minοtaur PART 1: Office

I’m turning this imagine into a series!!!!

Pairing: Minotaur x human reader

Summary: your Minotaur boyfriend Balen is madly in love with you. And he has a wicked little obsession with cockwarming. He always finds excuses to have you sit on his lap. Even when you are at work.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, semi-public workplace smut, Minotaur huge🍆, cοckwarming, lots of come. Don’t like, don’t read please.

This is a series and you can find more here.

You loved your Minotaur boyfriend, Balen.

The two of you had met three years ago at a workplace friendly to both monsters and humans. Balen was your superior, and you had just started working as his secretary. From the very first meeting, you had felt something deep and strong connecting him to you. You were attracted to him, incredibly aroused and in need of him. Balen had explained that it was the mating bond, a sacred bond that tied his heart to yours. Since then, you’d decided to give your relationship a chance and be together.

Your relationship was based on mutual trust and security, a connection deeper and stronger than you’d ever experienced.

Fast forward to the present, you still loved him like crazy, your relationship never better.

Balen was a fascinating presence in your life. Despite his towering and unusual appearance, your Minotaur was tender and sweet. You saw past his different appearance and found something deep and poignant with him. He cared for you better than any human boyfriend would — and fucked you with a passion that left you breathless.

Balen was madly in love with you. And he had a wicked little obsession with cockwarming. He was obsessed with the feel of you, the security of holding you in his arms while his cock pulsed inside you. And he always found excuses to have you sit on his lap, his cock thrust up your depths as he resumed his day as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

During shopping? During work? During lunch, dinner or any time of the day. Yes to all. Balen somehow made it work.

At work, he was particularly demanding when cockwarming him. Coworkers might enter his office, but he kept you there, your neat dress hiding your flushed face and betraying your state. Sometimes he played with your clit and made you cum, other times, he just stayed inside you and made work calls and reviewed business files. And when he finally pulled out of you, it was always with the promise to find a way to be close to you later.

That morning, you were in your office working on a presentation for an important project. You’d finished it with ease and were eager to share your ideas with your boss and colleagues. As you sat at your desk, typing away at your computer, the phone rang.

Called ID: Mr. Balen - Office.

You had an idea of what this call was about.

“Hello,” you answered casually.

“Come to my office,” your boyfriend said, his voice deep and throaty. “I need to check the progress of your presentation.”

“Yes, Sir.”

You complied, standing up and making your way to his spacious office. You knocked and entered discretely.

And there he was.

Seated at his magnificent mahogany desk, the sheer size of him dwarfed the surrounding furniture. Balen’s hulking form filled the room, his presence overwhelming. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit, the clothing tailored to fit his immense size. He was at least three times bigger than you, his body chiseled with muscles and silky fur. His head was crowned with a pair of curved horns, his face a captivating combination of beast and man. Upon seeing you, his dark eyes lit up and he let out a deep rumble, vibrating from his chest.

“Come here,” he said, his voice casual but demanding.

“I’ve brought my presentation,” you said but as soon as you were inches from him, he pulled you to him, his hands lifting your dress and guiding you to sit on his lap.

“Balen,” you whined as he quickly tugged away your panties, a finger finding its way inside you. You were drenched, wet from the earlier fuck he’d given you during the car ride to work. You clutched his broad shoulders, burying your face in his chest and biting your lips as that wickedly perfect digit stretched your walls, preparing you for his cock.

Soon, you felt him shift, unzipping his trousers and freezing his monstrous cock. Your Minotaur sported a dick unlike any other. It was long and curved, thick and surrounded by protruding veins. The head was broad and leaking pre-cum, his balls round and swollen, the poor babies squeezed between his legs.

Strong hands cupped your ass, positioning you over his raging girth. The cockhead nudged your entrance, coaxing your pussy lips apart and slowly invading your depths. With a slow, deliberate upward thrust, he buried himself inside you, a low groan of satisfaction rumbling from his chest. Your belly bulged from the sheer girth of him inside you. You moaned lewdly but quickly muffled your cries by biting his shoulder. He loved it when you did that.

“So good for me. Just for a little bit, baby, okay?” he murmured, his hands resting possessively on your hips. “I need this.”

You nodded, trying to control your breathing as you adjusted to the invasion and stretch. Balen resumed his work, one large hand rubbing your ass from under your dress while the other resumed his work, moving expertly over his keyboard as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He even studied your presentation while you struggled to focus with the constant feel of his cock stretching your pussy.

“Excellent work with your presentation,” he praised, “you covered every important point.”

“Th…thank you,” you murmured, running your fingers through the exposed fur at his neck.

You wiggled a little, desperate for release and rubbed your clit against him. His hand on your ass pressed you closer against him, thrusting just barely inside you. He did it again and again, rewarding you for taking his dick so well. A few minutes later, the friction against your clit was perfect and you came, your walls contracting hard around his cock. You bit his shoulder to muffle your cries and Balen followed, releasing pump after pump of his load inside you. He was surprisingly quiet and reserved, but you knew his passion was great; his heartbeat was erratic.

“Good girl,” he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against you.

It was at that moment, that a coworker knocked on the door. You clutched your boyfriend, your heart racing. Balen remained calm, his hands steady as he continued to work and bid the coworker to enter. The coworker, a male werewolf, entered, used to the sight of you hugging your boyfriend and what was happening beneath your neat clothing. Everyone in the office knew of your relationship and the demands of your minotaur boyfriend. Balen had made it so everyone respected you no matter what.

Balen and the werewolf discussed business as usual, while your face flushed with the effort of maintaining composure. Balen’s cock was throbbing inside you, his seed overflowing even if he was buried balls deep inside you. Once the coworker left, Balen kissed you, his tongue brushing against your lips before thrusting into your mouth. He tasted every crevice of your mouth and then drew back, a hint of a grin on his bull face.

“You did well,” he drawled, his voice thick with pride.

“Don’t I always?” you teased sweetly.

“Always.” He pressed you closed against him, his cock kissing so deep inside you that you groaned. “I love you mate. Love your beautiful smile, your lovely heart and your pretty little pussy.”

You smiled. “I love you, too, my horny minotaur.”

“Hmmm…” he growled. “You are my everything, little mate and it seems I can’t function without you.”

“Balen…” you trailed off, winching as more of his seed tricked down your thighs. “We made a mess. Shouldn’t we—”

“It’s alright, my love,” he said. “There are clothes in the cabinet. I always keep spares for both.”

Did you enjoy? Follow for more! Click to get notified when I update. I’ll post PART 2 as soon as I can!

[bookobsessedfreak]

lost in translation ◦ b.c

-being an author comes with its ups and downs, when your deep in the dumps about your poetry bangchan is quick to comfort you.

Paring ◦ Bangchan x GN!Reader Words ◦ 3,045 Genre ◦ Hurt and comfort Warnings ◦ Lotsss of projecting, descriptions of blood, lots of depressing thoughts, descriptions of drowning, bad jokes, rambling ofc, mild cursing cause the reader is frustrated, bangchan being the sweetest boyfriend ever, to much crying, pretty sure I said the same damn thing like 12 times 🥲 not edited cause half my shit deleted trust this was 10 times better when I wasn't scrounging to try and remember what the fuck I had said 3 weeks ago💀 A/N ◦ This is literally just me projecting lol. I kinda wanted to write something about what it's like to experience feeling like you're an idiot because sometimes the words just aren't coming to you. idk how I feel about the poetry sorta thing at the beginning I'm still trying to find my voice so please be gentle also the beginning Is a little weird but I kind of was trying to make it look chaotic to symbolize the chaos in the readers mind idk tell me how you feel about it, also if anyone is willing to be my beta reader id literally love you forever okay enough rambling hope you enjoy reading it :) P.S the 6th line says missing but its supposed to symbolize the fact that the letter is missing just in case you don't catch that the first time around :) P.P.S(cause I never shut up) Future cookie here: ngl I'm rereading this and I'm like wtf is this I really don't even know if theirs a plot here idk Links ◦ Masterlist ◦ Taglist ◦ Rules ◦ Navigation ~CookieCreates🍪

Poetry was the language of the soul, but sometimes it felt like your words were lost in translation, living in a constant state of lethologica.

Poetry wasn't supposed to be perfect, it was supposed to make you feel something. Well, what do you do when your poetry is about as poetic as wet dirt.

Your art always felt awkward

out of place

like the letters were seemingly bent out of

s h a p e

or maybe some were

m i s i n g?

Punctuation like pretzels twisting about.

Periods,

commas?

Why couldn't your brain just work?

Why wouldn't your heart just bleed?

Synonyms were slick, slithering between your fingertips like snakes, but when you searched your soul for the sentences, it felt like they were always stuck.

The world of writing was such a confusing place.

Your words grew dull under the pressure of a pencil, always writing, always working, always saying the same damn things over and over. Your work was like a cemetery, gray ghosts of eraser marks and pencil scratches, sentences you ditched, splinters of your soul you couldn't seem to squeeze out, your writing was always faded but never forgotten. 

They mocked you, laughed at you, words with mouths, sentences with structures. 

How silly. 

How stupid. 

You stare at the paper, imagining them with mocking mouths and smiling lips. Some would think you’re crazy, but you're not crazy. No, you’re spiraling. 

Spiraling

Spiraling

Spiraling in a whirlpool

Spinning 

Spinning 

Spinning in a riptide

Sinking 

Sinking 

Sinking under the waves of words left unwritten 

Pockets filled with the sand of synonyms you sifted through too often. How much more pressure can you take as you plunged-

Deeper 

Deeper 

Deeper until you fall into the vast open ocean where the shadows dance in the sea, its marvelous, it's magnificent, it's a beautiful sight to see as your lungs fill with water, your eyes fluttering shut, the tips of your fingers touching the waves. You admire the ocean, wishing one day you could be like the sea, dancing with the shadows of your mind. 

You sigh, aggressively rubbing your eyes. Writers Block was a metaphor, but sometimes it felt like a reality, a literal cinder block resting in between the path where your heart meets your head, your hand coming up with nothing new, tired of typing the same words, the same sentences. Your vision began to blur, flickering over the work you spent hours creating. An odd sort of hatred spreads through your skin, boiling in the back of your brain. 

You feel like a kettle getting ready to… 

"Hello, my love," Chan whispers, wrapping muscular arms around your waist. He dusts his lips over your cheeks, brushing soft kisses across your skin.

Blow 

"I hate it." You shout, chucking your pen. at the wall. Chan's heart jumps against your back as he flinches.

"W-What baby? What did I do?" The panic in his voice makes guilt rush through you immediately, quickly turning around to comfort him.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, lazily locking your hands behind his back, embracing him in a tired hug, hopefully strong enough to wipe that kicked puppy dog look off his face. You nuzzle your nose into the hard planes of his chest, hoping you would just melt into him, meld your bodies together, never having to face life again.

"You didn't do anything." You whimper, digging your face deeper into his skin, wishing the world would just wash away, drip down the walls like the ink that's running down your paper, wiping away all traces of the terrible writing that plages the poor dead tree that gave his life for that pile of flaming crap you wrote.

You were suffocating. 

Suffocating in feelings you couldn't articulate, emotions you couldn't convey. You were a poet.

A poet who was drowning under words left unsaid. 

“I hate everything right now, Channie." You sniffled, tears rushing to your lash line. "Everything I write sucks! Everything!" You dig your face deeper into his chest, he squeezes you tighter, rubbing reassuring circles on your back. You sob, almost having the urge to lean your face over the page to collect your tears that are laced with the emotions you are supposed to be writing but instead are crying out into your boyfriend's chest. You stay like that for what feels like forever, sobs spilling over the silence that cloaks the room, your knees ache from staying in the same position for so long, holding onto him like he was a balloon and if you let go he was going to float away. Still, he never once scoffed, never once rolled his eyes, never once showed any sign that he was annoyed, bothered by your endless crying, even when his shirt was soaked, even when it felt like your sobs would never stop. 

He stayed. 

He always stayed. 

Moments like these make you believe in the type of love you write. 

Moments like these make love look like art. 

You've spent so many days creating art out of letters, beauty out of words, and yet you could spend a million years searching for the proper terms to describe the love he filled you with, but no matter how hard you try, you will always be so grossly inept. The English language seems so flimsy.

So shallow. 

So empty. 

So you place your ear to the cavern where his heart is kept and listen to the vibrations his body is sending you instead. You sigh contently, nuzzling your face into his shirt, your sobs long forgotten, now nothing more than sniffles that rack your spine as you hiccup—a terrible feeling—crying for so long just for the echos of your sorrow to come out through your lungs, contracting in painful hiccups.

(Cookies interruptions: please tell you know what im talking about I hate crying for so long and your lungs keep like dying in a weird form of a hiccup because you've literally been crying for so long 🙄)

He chuckles, the sound echoing through his ribs as he peers down at you with soft eyes, amusement dancing on his face. You scrunch your eyebrows, partly confused and partly offended that he's laughing at you. 

“What?” you ask, reeling your head back from the comfort of his chest.

“Are you going to share?” he smirks, eyes flickering down to your hands. Heat crawls up your neck as you glance down your hands, which were indeed, kneading his chest like a cat making buiscuts. You cringe, suddenly fairly embarrassed, at the way you were acting like a pathetic pet desperately needing attention. You pull your hands away from his chest slowly, looking him dead in the eyes, cheeks hot, face blank. 

“You know I don't like sharing my food, Channie, especially my biscuits.” He grabs you by the arms, pulling you back into him. Throwing his head back in laughter, you snort, cuddling closer to him. Your cheek smooshed into his shirt.

“You know cats only knead people when they feel safe” You whisper, he stops laughing, he stops breathing, he stops moving those sweet circles down your back; you freeze, suddenly more bashful than before.

“You feel safe with me?” He breathes, his eyes warm, swirling with a mix of pride and surprise. You nod hesitantly; you've never seen anybody look at you like this, like you're the source of all their joy. His forehead crinkles in a gentle sort of appreciation. Glad that sharing even the most vulnerable parts of yourself with him.  He smiles, a toothy gummy action, tilting his head to the side before shoving your face back into his body. “It’s all I've ever wanted.” Your heart fills with an unfathomable feeling of pure unadulterated warmth, you can't help but grin.

“Do you wanna talk to me about what happened today, pretty?” He whispers, his lips hovering over your head, before ghosting a kiss on your hair.

“I don't know channie,” You tilt your head back, lifting your eyes to meet his. “I-I just hate everything I write right now. I try so hard to create something, anything, but the words just never come to me, so I’m sitting here writing junk, a bunch of useless rambles with the same fucking words over and over, cause it feels like my vocabulary diminishes to the range of about 10 words as soon as I pick up a pencil, and today I was just writing.” You scoff, annoyance at your own stupidity filling your veins. “Or the pathetic attempt to do so, and I got so mad c-cause it just felt like everything I wrote j-just...” You taper off, averting your eyes from his, shame flickering in the back of your brain. “Sucked,” You whisper, looking down at your fiddling fingers. 

You remember the first time you ever showed him a piece of your work, studying his facial expressions like an FBI agent doing an interrogation. Swarms of anxiety-flavored butterflies were fluttering in your stomach as you watched his jaw drop. You stared at him nervously, expectingly, a face waiting for failure, for him to nod awkwardly, handing you back your computer, not quite meeting your eyes before reluctantly telling you it was great. It was what you expected from such a brilliant, talented man like him; it baffled you the way he could play with words, teasing them on his tongue like smooth honey dripping from his lips. The feeling compared to a composer handing their piece to Mozart, waiting for his reply, but instead of the fleeting look of disgust that you expected, his jaw dropped almost comically, staring at you with wide eyes. You had chuckled anxiously, gripping your knees, studying his every move, hoping to gauge his reaction. You bit your lip to hold the grin that arouse when his face quickly compared to that of a cartoon character. 

“Baby,” he had beamed playfully. “You wrote this.”

“Yes,” you chuckled.

“Oh my gosh, I'm dating a genius." He stared out into space, like he was pondering some deep philosophical thought. "Who would have known such a big brain was hidden in such a beautiful body? Damn baby, your a catch," he smirked as he set your computer down to pick you up bridal style. You don't think you've ever smiled so big before in your life. 

He was always your biggest cheerleader, so why were you so ashamed to tell him you thought your writing sucked? 

But most of all, why were you scared that maybe he might agree? 

“Baby,” he leaned down to get on your level, face full of sympathy. Your bottom lip trembled as you averted your eyes. Sympathy was exactly what you needed, so why does it seem to make the wound burn more? You feel so wholly pathetic as you stare at the floor, words welling up in your chest, but you don't know which way to express them. You were so used to pouring your emotions through a pen, communicating seemed impossible. 

"You don't have-" he starts, but you interrupt him. You just can't wait for the words to marinate in your mind. Sometimes you forget you had a boyfriend who cared about you, somebody you could always count on to listen to you, so even though it's hard, even though it's scary, you take a leap of faith, knowing he'd catch you every time.  

“I-I just… Poetry is the language of the soul, Chan. It's everything to me. I speak it, breathe it, write it, love it. You don't understand how amazing it is to take such an ugly emotion and twist it into something so beautiful, like a rose sprouting from muddy, murky ground. It's just...” You stare at the floor, softly kicking your toe to the carpet, a nervous reaction to the burn of his eyes scraping across your being, studying you, judging you. You know he's not, not really, but you felt naked under his gaze, strangely vulnerable. He hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your face up. Your met with welcoming eyes and an impressed expression.

“Go on,” he encourages. “Just what?” 

You stare at him reluctantly, not liking the gross feeling you get when you share your feelings, but his smile surrounds you in security, quickly loosening your lips.

“That's what hurts the most about it, though it's apart of you, and when you look at your work and all you see in the muddy, murky ground, what does that say about you? These words are coming from your soul, and sometimes it feels like they're all just lost in translation.” You whisper, blinking away tears that swell in your eyes, shyly shuffling.

“I do understand,” he says, “I understand completely, feeling like you have to transcibe your soul, and to my listeners, your readers, you wonder if what you said got lost in translation. It's scary, it's exhausting, but you know what it also is? It's beautiful and rewarding. It's amazing being able to share such intimate pieces of yourself with the world, but it's normal to feel like you suck at what you do. That's the only way you can grow.” He leans down to kiss the tips of your nose; your eyelids flutter shut as a smile dusts on your face. “How do you think you would have grown into the amazing author you are now if you looked at the short stories you wrote when you were little and thought, Wow, this is exactly how far I want to progress.” You giggle, thinking about how horrible your writing was when you were so young. You fold your arms in front of your chest, scrounging up the best sassy face you can—popping your hip out.

“I'll have you know, sir, my 9-year-old fanfictions about Harry Styles goated.” You jest biting your lip to contain your smile, he groans, scrunching his nose up in faux disgust. “Ew Y/N, please never say goated again.”  

You glare at him playfully. “I hate you, you know." He smiles softly, but it carries weight—warmth. The previous humor washed away like rain rushing down a child's picture made of chalk. He cups your cheeks in warm hands, eyes swirling with sincerity.

“But I love you, and I can assure you, you are the most amazing writer I know, Y/N L/N. You are brilliant, you are beautiful, you can turn even some of the most ugly emotions into the most stunning writing I've ever heard. You amaze me.” He states it like he's stating the sky is blue, like it's such a well known fact that anybody who would dare to disagree is just plain stupid. 

That's certainly not what you expected.

Your bottom lip trembles as you attempt to smile. His words sound like cotton candy in your ears, but even candy floss melts when met with water, and right about now you were drowning. 

"I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do when I feel like I can't write. I want to write so badly, but everything I say is so stupid!” You gurgle, he thinks for a minute, pulling his bottom lip into his teeth before beaming, a lightbulb practically shining above his head.

 "You know what you do when you can't write?" 

“What?” you sniffle, blinking aggressively trying to dry your eyes. 

“You just do it. You just write.”  

“What?” You state, staring at him like he's the biggest dummy in the world.

“You just write.”

“Wow, how couldn't I have thought of that one?” You roll your eyes. He ignores your sass, placing a hand on the small of your back, leading you to your writing chair. He pulls it out for you, which you reluctantly sit in, not really wanting to go through this whole exercise, especially when your brain short circuits staring at your paper, filled with faded sentences you really don't want to face. He scoots your chair back, holding on to the back of the wood. 

"Become brainless,” he says, leaning his face into yours, cheeks practically touching. “Like you're not even in you're body, immerse yourself in the characters, play them, become them. Be them. Let their characteristics cover you. Don't let it be what you are going to say; let it be what they are going to say.”

“Where’d you learn this?” You ask, confused about why hes speaking like hes the author. You had asked what he did when the words weren't wording, but he's talking like he creates characters and not lyrics—not that you're complaining, of course. 

"I had a feeling something like this was going to come up with your... author-a-try?" He stops, contemplating if that was a word—it isn't, by the way—realizes he doesn't care and continues, "So I did some studying on it," he says, like it was something every boyfriend did, like it was the bare minimum. The depth of his kindness truly baffles you sometimes. 

When you are with Chan, you realize how feeble the English language really is. You could study every word in every dialect for the rest of your life and never once find a term great enough to suit the emotions that consume you when you're with him. You know you don't deserve him, but you will spend the rest of your life trying.

“Just write. You can worry about all of the rest later, baby. Don't even think about how others will perceive you. Don't even think about your word choice or your punctuation. You take that pencil, and you let your heart do the talking for you.”

 Even though sometimes your words got lost in translation on the path from your heart to your head, it was a comforting thought to know you'd never have to worry about that with Chan, for your souls spoke the same language. You peered up at him, his eyes reminding you of spills of stars that swam in a chocolate galaxy. He looks down at the paper encouragingly, gesturing for you to start, so you do.

You pick up the pencil and let your heart bleed

Poetry was the language of the soul, but sometimes it felt like your words were lost in translation, living in a constant state of lethologica.

©CookieCreates (posted: June, 16th 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Our children yearn for the waterpark

part one

barbie dolls: Jegulus x you

word:3.9k

summary:James takes you and regulus (along with your children) to a waterpark

warnings: your son is named Elliot, also you're referred to as Ren and Rena like the gn term for your parent so just yk it's not an oc i promise, pushing the trans James agenda, James is a baker and regulus is a stay at home dad/writer you’re a teacher just so you know, modern au I'm SORRY, James’ parents are alive, Regulus has freinds, Regulus hates the public water, Allusions to poc Luna harry and james, your race and elliots race is not menntioned everyone is welocome, you dont get in the water, Regulus is a sunscreen god he loves sunscreen so much, Harry is mentioned to have moms theyre giving divorce core mom and dad’s house, james drives a minivan, allusions to autistic reader and Elliot but its not specified, your swimsuit is not mwntioned or described so again everybody welcome, i hate typos oh my god

You liked dating James and Regulus. Your relationship was still very fresh, but their effect was hard to miss. They made you laugh all the time. James was very energetic, matching your kids well. Regulus was blunt and it relaxed your nerves of missing a hidden message in a conversation. And they were both great parents. Your kids already loved each other and they got along well.

School was out. Meaning both you and Elliot had loads of free time on your hands. With summer in full swing, you set up frequent playdates with Elliot’s two best friends. You wanted him to keep his strong bonds with them and it definitely wasn’t because you missed Regulus and James. Regulus was really self-employed. He stayed at home to raise Luna and to write his books. He could easily add a playdate to his schedule. James however was a baker with hours he had to meet. So he didn’t always have a clear schedule. Harry would stay with his grandparents, Euphemia and Fleamont, while James was at work. Harry also spent a lot of time at his Moms’ house. So making a playdate with all three children involved was harder than expected. Elliot still liked hanging out with Luna, and sometimes even Harry too on certain weekends.

Your phone rang as you were cutting up celery for Elliot. He was going through a peanut butter phase, eating it on everything. You picked up the call, holding the phone with your shoulder and the side of your face.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Pretty. It’s me.” You smiled at James’ voice. Just as you were about to tell him hi again, he started talking. “Lemme add Regulus.” You stayed silent as his side went quiet. You heard Elliot in the other room, clacking his toys together on the dining room table. You snagged a pretzel from the small pile on his plate. Soon enough James and Regulus both joined.

“Are you guys busy this weekend?” You scoffed at James. You heard Regulus sniffle a laugh on his line.

“James, baby, we’re always free. Do try to remember our professions.” You said as you smeared peanut butter onto Elliot’s celery.

“Right yeah, well I just accidently bought exactly six passes to this really cool waterpark,” James said, whispering the last word. You oooed while Regulus snorted.

“James, do share with us how you accidentally bought exactly enough passes for all of us and our children.” Regulus pressed. You heard Luna in the background let out a yell filled with laughter.

“Was that Luna?” You asked. Regulus explained that her uncles were over and attacking her with tickles. Regulus returned the conversation to the waterpark passes.

“alright fine, you caught me. I missed you guys. I’ve been so busy with work, I feel like I haven’t seen you all summer.” You cooed at James while Regulus let out a whine.

“He cares.” Regulus mocked.

“How adorable.” You joined in making James groan loudly. “What day were you planning on going to the p-a-r-k, James?” You spelled out where you were going so Elliot wouldn’t overhear and get excited. You turned around to the color-coordinated calendar on the fridge. It was mostly empty, you and Elliot preferred the company of each other than strangers. Though you had a really exciting playdate with Luna planned next Thursday. What a wild life you lived.

“This Saturday if that works for you two.” You glanced over at the empty box.

“Yeah, I could squeeze you in.” You muttered into the microphone as you turned back to Elliot’s plate.

“Lemme check my planner.” Regulus waited for a second. “Oh that’s right, I hate human beings. I'm completely free.” James let out a sigh of relief. You picked up Elliot’s plate, walking it to the dining room. Elliot was sitting in a chair, his little arms just barely reaching over the edge of the table, smacking two toy cars together. You set his plate in front of him. Elliot thanked you, shoving the peanut butter-covered celery into his mouth. You kissed his forehead, ruffling his hair before pulling back. You noticed his bare legs.

“Baby, where are your pants?” You tilted your head. Elliot pointed to the bathroom.

“Hamper,” Elliot answered.

“Well, good job putting them in the hamper but why aren’t they on your legs?” You asked.

“Didn’t wanna wear ‘em,” Elliot said, his mouth full of celery.

“Can’t argue with that, make sure you chew all the way okay.” Elliot nodded as you left to go clean the kitchen.

“One thing I will say though, I’m not getting that water. Do you realize how filthy those things are?” You tuned back into the conversation listening to Regulus list off statistics of how gross waterparks are.

“That’s okay, I’ll be in the water so I can make sure Luna doesn’t swim away or anything,” James said, clearing up the problem. You nodded.

“I’ll dry off Luna if you don’t want to touch the water on her, and we’ll lay a towel over one of those chairs that are shaded so we know it's clean. If you feel lonely, I'll sit with you and James if you feel tired we can swap places.” You offered, wanting to fill in any potholes in your plans.

“You are very kind, darling,” Regulus muttered. You cooed at him as you shoved the peanut butter back in the high cabinet so Elliot wouldn’t eat it all in one sitting and hurt his stomach.

“You guys are nasty. I was thinking maybe we carpool so nobody gets lost and it saves gas.” James said. You hummed while Regulus made a disapproving sound.

“James, there’s like twelve of us. Are you driving a bus?” Regulus said, poking holes into James’ ideas. If you were looking at James you assumed he’d be rolling his eyes.

“I have a big van. It has enough seating for us, I counted to make sure.” You hummed.

“Okay, baby, whatever you want.” You agreed, putting the celery into the refrigerator. Regulus sighed.

“I suppose that could work.” You snorted at Regulus’ faked disappointment. You heard Luna call for Regulus on his side.

“I’m being called for Yeti in my Spaghetti, I have to go.” You all said bye before hanging up.

Saturday came faster than you thought it would. You were packing a big bag of sunscreen and towels, in no time. You told Elliot he didn’t need to wear his goggles before you even got in the car but he was excited. You let it slide, you’re only seven once. You were a little anxious about the whole thing, you worried one of the kids would splash Regulus. You were worried they would slip on the wet concrete and crack their head. You worried Elliot’s goggles were too tight on his head. You heard an engine approaching. You looked out the window to verify it was James. Definitely his red minivan, bumper stickers littering the back. You turned around to Elliot.

“You know who’s in the driveway?” Elliot jumped up off the couch, bouncing on his feet.

“Harry and Luna?” You nodded. Elliot bolted towards the door. You were opening the minivan door in no time, a wave of hello’s meeting you and Elliot. Luna and Harry were next to each other in the back row.

“They wanted to sit in the back because they’re spies.” You hummed at Regulus’ explanation. You were able to fit Elliot’s booster seat in the back, next to Luna. You pushed the seat in front of them back, sitting in the row in front of theirs. Regulus was in the passenger seat, tilting his head back to see you. You smiled at him warmly as you buckled your seatbelt. James’ face appeared next to his, looking at you.

“Hi,” James said, a light air to his greeting.

“Hi.”

“Okay, waterpark here we come!” James said, loud enough for the back row to hear. The kids all squealed, thrashing their legs and arms around. Your trip to the waterpark calmed your worries. James and Regulus’ presence already working numbers. James apparently made a summertime fun playlist specifically for this. The kids seemed to enjoy it. Luna made her doll dance and Elliot made his car dance. Harry just made himself dance.

You six easily made it through the gates. You were holding hands with Regulus on one side and Elliot on the other. When you look back to see Elliot holding onto Luna’s hand and Luna holding onto Harry’s hand, you had flashbacks to watching ducks cross the road. James was in the front leading you all to his Harry’s favorite part of the waterpark. Regulus narrowly avoided a small kid with Nemo arm floaties splashing. You rubbed his arm in sympathy.

“I'll dry you off if you get any water on you, and I have hand sanitizer and butt wipes in my bag. Regulus knocked your cheek with his head in a thank you. James ran ahead, snagging a sunlounger for Regulus. You pulled a towel out of your bag, handing it to James. Regulus settled onto the chair, digging into his own bag. He motioned for Luna to come over, squirting a mountain of tinted sunscreen into his hands. Regulus smothered Luna in sunscreen, making sure she was covered entirely.

Luna had on an adorable bright orange swimsuit with ruffles around the edges. She had matching arm floaties that she talked Regulus out of, pinkie promising to stay in the shallow end. You knew that within an hour she’d want to go into the deep end and Regulus would have to talk her into a life vest and arm floaties. Luna was free though, slipping her Tinkerbell flip-flops off and splashing into the shallow end. You were in the kid's area so there wasn’t even really a deep end but you could easily imagine Luna tricking someone into taking her to the lazy river.

Harry was next in the sunscreen line. Harry had on a long-sleeved swim shirt and Lighting McQueen shorts. James had on just red shorts. He had already tossed his coverup tee off. You didn’t want to oggle him. James had antler tattoos following the path of the scars on his chest. Regulus’ shorts were blue, you expected him to stay under the shade the whole time.

James pulled his spray can of suscreen out of his bag. Regulus looked aghast at James even thinking of covering a human in that. Regulus slapped it out of James’ hands, using Luna’s sunscreen on Harry instead. Regulus forced James into using Luna’s sunscreen as well. Regulus smothered some over James’ cheeks. It made James fluster, giggling and needing to turn around to take a moment to himself. After Regulus smothered James and Harry in sunscreen, he pulled Elliot over.

You sat next to Regulus as he rubbed sunscreen into Elliot’s skin. You held onto Elliot’s hand, he was squeezing the life out of it. Elliot hated the texture of sunscreen but he liked playing in the water more than sitting in the shade. He just needed a little bit of comfort through it and he was okay. After Regulus was done Elliot moved into your arms for more comfort. You hummed, squeezing him tight. You rocked him gently, giving him all the praises he needed. Elliot eventually pulled back, leaving his shoes next to his friends’ and joining them in the water. You smiled at him splashing with his friends, the three of them flinging water at James, who pretended to die and crash into the water.

You turned back to Regulus, happy you were all together. Regulus was staring at you with a deadly serious look in his eyes. His palms were pointed towards you, you glanced down at them. Your smile slightly fell when you realized they were coated in sunscreen.

“Oh Regulus, I actually put some on at ho-“ Regulus shut you up by smothering your face with his hands. He removed them, smearing his hands down your arms. You sputtered, he avoided your eyes and mouth shockingly. Regulus returned his hands to your face, now gently rubbing it into your face. You understood now why this flustered James. Regulus had both hands on your face treating your skin with such love, making sure you were fully protected. He eventually sat back, adding more to his hands before looking up at you.

“Can I do the rest or do you want to?” You shrugged.

“I’m cool with whatever you want, babe.” Regulus sighed. He hated when people made him make decisions.

“I'll do most.” You hummed in approval. He rubbed sunscreen into most of your skin, handing you the bottle to finish. When you were done you squeezed some of Regulus’ sunscreen into your hands, facing him with the same severity. He looked up from rubbing some into his arms. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“I'll get your back, baby.” Regulus squinted his eyes at you. You grinned.

“Are you trying to steal my job?” You shook your head moving to sit behind him. You applying sunscreen devolved into you just rubbing the tension out of his shoulders. Regulus dropped his head back against you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, lightly pecking his cheek on the way. You both watched as James picked Harry up by his ankles, wrapping his arms around Harry’s legs, and swinging him around. It made Harry giggle loudly, squealing and swinging his arms around. James gently set Harry back on his feet, splashing all three of your kids with a large swing of his arms. James left the water, squeezing his shorts out. He slumped down into the sun lounge chair next to you that you claimed with your bag.

He pulled his arms under his head, sighing. You admired the way the sun warmed his skin. You were not checking him out you were just checking for sunburns. Regulus pressed a kiss to your arm, leaning out of your hold. James opened his eyes, looking over at you both.

“So I was thinking, maybe we go out to eat after this.” You hummed nodding your head.

“You pick, I hate making decisions,” Regulus muttered. You patted his shoulder.

“Parenting must be hard for you.” Regulus nodded at you. He looked up when he heard Luna scream. Harry was splashing her. Elliot was near them staring at the lost water shoe sitting at the edge of the shallow water.

“Elliot, leave the shoe alone.” You yelled over at him. His head shot up, caught. He stood up and pointed down at it.

“Rena, it has no brother. Where’s the owner?” You shrugged at him.

“I don’t know, baby. Leave it alone, you don’t know what somebody could’ve stepped in.” Elliot pouted at you. Your yelling caught the attention of the other two. They stood around the lost shoe staring down at it. You stood up, joining them so now all four of you were standing around this lost shoe and inspecting it. You told them not to touch it running over to the nearby snowcone stand asking for napkins. You picked the shoe up with a napkin. The three children follow you to the trashcan. You set it on top in case the owner came back, and looked for it. You tossed the napkins into the trashcan, turning around to your little huddle of kids.

“Why can you touch it but we can’t?” Luna asked, staring up at you.

“I had napkins, and I��m an adult so I can make my own decisions about my health.” Luna pouted at your answer.

“That’s unjust,” Luna muttered under her breath.

“Can we have napkins?” Harry asked. You shook your head. Elliot scoffed.

“This sucks, you took away my shoe.” You dropped your shoulders.

“I’m sorry hun but you can’t have that shoe. it’s not for you.” You looked around the huddle to make sure they all understood. Luna pushed her wet hair away from her face. Elliot turned around and left, the other two following after him. When you returned to James and Regulus, you noticed how much Luna was fighting with her hair. It kept sticking to her face and annoying her. Her eyebrows were pushed together and she looked close to drowning her mermaid doll.

“Regulus, could I put Luna’s hair up? It keeps getting in her face.” Regulus shrugged. He reached over to his bag, pulling two hairbands off a key chain and handing them to you. You asked Luna if she wanted her hair up. She said yes and settled in front of you on the chair. You had James run to the snowcone stand and ask for a cup of water. You made sure her hair was damp, so you wouldn’t hurt it. You gently pulled her hair up into a ponytail, using the hair ties Regulus gave you to hold it. You patted her arms when you were done. Luna turned around and gave you a tight hug.

After another hour of the kids and James being rowdy, you were all tired. You stayed true to your word, drying Luna off with her towel while Regulus packed up his bag. With everyone buckled in the car, James started towards whatever food place he picked. The ride back from the waterpark was much calmer and quieter than the ride to. The kids were tired, you were tired, the car was tired. You glanced over at Regulus when you heard him mutter something. You noticed James’ hand resting on Regulus’ thigh. You smiled at that, glad you were all close. James smiled brightly at Regulus, making the car heat up with his joy.

“Well thank you, I like your swimsuit too.” You glanced at the backseat making sure all three kids were asleep.

“Oh, that’s why you invited us to the waterpark. To see me and Regulus half naked. I get it now.” James looked at you through the rearview mirror.

“No, I wanted you guys to have fun, don't soil my good name like that,” James said, giving you a playful glare. Regulus ignored you both, resting his head against his arm on the door. You noticed James’ thumb swiping back and forth in a soothing manner. You smiled at him before returning your attention out the window.

Eventually, you were gently rocking the kids’ knees so they would wake up. When they realized they had the prospect of chicken strips and french fries, they were scrambling out of their seats. You were sat at a round booth. It was more of a fast food than a restaurant place so your wet swimsuit coverups weren’t really a problem. You helped Elliot pick out his meal as James helped Harry. Luna apparently already knew what she wanted, busying herself with the sugar packets.

Your food arrived and you cut up Harry’s chicken strips while James caught you and Regulus up with what was going on with him. You slid Harry’s plate back to him. Elliot handed you the small bowl of ketchup like it was going to bite him.

“Nasty, Rena. I don't want it.” You nodded, taking it away. You set it between you and James so Elliot wouldn’t have to look at it.

“Oh thank you.” James dunked one of his fries into the bowl. You weren’t going to correct him and tell him you didn’t do that on purpose so you just smiled. You checked on Elliot, seeing him chomp into his chicken strips, tearing it away. He rawred before chewing properly. You put together that he was probably pretending to be a dinosaur. His favorite was a velociraptor. He liked that they looked like ‘stupid chickens’. You glanced over at Luna. She was chowing down on her burger. She ordered for herself. She did a great job too. Luna was very well-spoken, she seemed to have a big vocabulary. It probably had something to do with living with a writer. Especially a writer like Regulus.

You tore off a corner from your paper napkin. You rolled it into a ball before chucking it at Regulus. It hit him square in the forehead. Regulus set his fork down, looking down at the paper ball in his lap. He looked up at you and James both smothering your laughter. He reached over and covered Harry’s eyes before flipping you off. Elliot was luckily under the table getting his crayon off the floor. James dropped his fry. Regulus picked up his fork taking a proud bite out of his own fry. You ignored the fact he was eating fries with his fork and that he passed it to Luna.

“What about Luna?” James asked. Regulus removed his hand from Harry. Harry glared at Regulus before picking up another chicken strip.

“Oh, I already sawed that. Uncle B said it means I love you but Uncle Rosie told me the truth. Uncle B likes partial jokes.” Luna said, matter of factly. She kept her eyes on her burger before taking a bite. Regulus nodded at her.

“Practical, not partial. You used the phrase practical jokes correctly though. Good job, Lue.” Luna smiled with her cheeks full at Regulus. You understood why her vocab was so big now, it was Regulus. Elliot rawred again, making three claws with his fingers to pick up his chicken strips.

You were all strapped into James’ minivan and on the way back home, in no time. The kids were entertaining each other in the backseat. James had his playlist softly playing in the background.

“We should get together just us,” James said. Regulus looked away from his window raising an eyebrow at him.

”Is that not what we just did?” Regulus asked. James shook his head.

“No I mean like we should go on a for real date, not a playdate that we happen to flirt in the background. We go out just the three of us. Maybe not the waterpark though.” James explained, keeping his eyes on the road.

“I want to but it’s kinda hard getting a babysitter.” You said, looking between them. Regulus turned around to make eye contact with you.

“Elliot could spend the night at my house, I have like a thousand free babysitters,” Regulus said, waving his hand through the air.

“What will Uncle B teach my kind how to say fuck in every language?” You teased. Regulus pressed his lips togehter.

”He’s actually not that bad, he’s really good with kids. He just also has an odd sense of humor.” you squinted at Regulus. ” It's alright if you don't want him to babysit I can have Evan and Dorcas babysit. Evan is just as insane as Barty but he lowers it while around children. Barty doesn’t. Docas is super cool, she’ll probably teach Elliot how to sword fight with wrapping paper tubes.”

“Docas does sound sick.” You muttered. James cheered.

“See we can go out for real, Regulus you do the planning this time.” Regulus nodded at James.

“I actually really like planning, I wish I had my joural. I would’ve taken notes.” Regulus sadly muttered. Once you were back home, Elliot passed out on the couch. You smiled at him clutching his car to his chest. You were excited for Regulus to call you and start his planning process.

[twig-tea]

Love Sea Ep 2 Thoughts

Love Sea is, as of ep2, my favourite show airing from Thailand right now.

In addition to being beautiful, and sexy, this show is funny. And I appreciate so much that sex is being treated as a fun thing people who choose to sometimes engage in together rather than as a proxy for/declaration of love (it can be that too, but we get that a lot, and that's not all sex is or can be).

Rak and Mut start off in ep1 by being clearly attracted to each other, maybe even curious about each other, and in some ways having fun getting one over on the other, but they don't really like each other yet. In episode 2, they have sex and then more sex and they are intrigued. They spend more time together over the episode, have a few real conversations, and we get to watch them start to actually like each other in real time. It's fantastic.

I also want to shout out the way this show is highlighting the importance of supporting local business when you travel, and safe sex (one day, I pray, someone will not open a condom with their mouth, unfortunately today was not that day), and being respectful of one another's out statuses (checking in on whether each of them was concerned about being seen with another man before doing any public canoodling was a fantastic touch, especially Rak understanding that there were higher stakes for Mut because this was his hometown). I also love how this show is handling its class dynamics so far, it is very intentional and I'm enjoying watching it play out.

This show has also laid some groundwork for future plot stuff that I am very excited about.

There was a moment in this episode where Rak talks about being an author and how some readers criticize his work for being unrealistic, when he writes fantasy so of course what's happening should be unrealistic. In addition to this moment feeling a little like MAME was staring directly into the camera, it also is interesting in the context of Rak's panic-attack-flashback when he remembers his mother telling him that he should not love anyone to avoid being abandoned like his mother; he then later says love is a figment of our imagination.

Well, guess who's a fantasy BL author? I'm assuming he's going to write this fantasy and will need to be brought around to believing that it can be true. Luckily Masamut is an experienced guide.

We've also got context that Rak's father said he'd stay if he were paid, which means Mut has set himself perfectly as someone Rak can trust to stick around, because/as long as he's being paid by Rak. The trick will be in getting him to believe that he won't be abandoned as soon as he stops paying.

Finally, Mut mentioning his father kicking him out when he was 15 had me very curious--what did they not see eye-to-eye on?

I'm admittedly still unsure what's happening with the GL side couple; the fact that Muk was excited to be kissed by Vi, things aren't quite what they seemed in ep1.

Very much looking forward to watching all of this unfold in this gorgeous show over the next several weeks!

[livingthedragonlife]

i make good playlists too sometimes. listen to it maybe?

explanations for why i chose the songs under the cut because i miss 8tracks. BIG HUGE SPOILER WARNING if you haven’t read/finished the manga!!!

Pure Love by Mother Mother — I always liked this song as a comforting presence but you could also read it as a sinister one. Definitely leaning into the sinister version here. I was also thinking of the innocent beginnings of the Winged Lion, just a little speck granting tiny desires before it was drawn "like a moth to a flame" to bigger ones. And the rest is history.

Remain Nameless by Florence + the Machine —

But know I'll always be around This can remain the same

Call me when you need me Call me anything you want Darling, believe me Nothing I haven't done before

The King by Anjimile — This one just gives me the vibes of how the power of being a dungeon lord drives everyone insane.

The Cage by Vera Sola — Deeply Mithrun

Under A Dome by Of Monsters and Men —

I'm taking over my own throne I’m holding my heart and it's overgrown I'm kicking out and I’m full of life So why should I cry over northern lights? And it's over now and I'm falling

It Will Come Back by Hozier — This WHOLLEE song is just. The Winged Lion in a nutshell. It's the entire premise.

Thousand Eyes by Of Monsters and Men — The dungeon lords can see through all their monster servants. A thousand of them even

Everybody Wants to Rule The World by Lorde — "uh oh shit is getting real"

Moderation by Florence + the Machine — The Winged Lion having absolutely no chill

Never Pleased by Portugal. The Man —

No I'm not Jesus but I'm more than a man I'll never grow old or lonely or sad Still I'm never pleased I'm never pleased

From the corners until I wake up walking as careful can be Careful to miss out on all that I see I'm never pleased

Tethered to the Dark by Anya Marina — The way the Winged Lion can manipulate you in fucked up ways you didn't even know were possible

Dangerous by Son Lux —

Are you dangerous? Carved right into my bed Quick lobotomy Then left me for dead

Mr. Lonely (feat. Fat Lip) by Portugal. The Man — Ultimately, being a dungeon lord leaves you alone and obsessed and with ultimate power that you don't even have full control over.

Forever by Mother Mother — Marcille's motivation but also the Winged Lion's? Marcille essentially never wants to see anyone her loves die ever again, and the Winged Lion wants to feast on desires forever. Unfortunately, entropy.

Guilty Filthy Soul by AWOLNATION — The Winged Lion doing some more crazy manipulation.

Propaganda by Muse — Obviously the dungeon lords are taken in by the Winged Lion's "propaganda," it "eats souls," it "toys with the truth." BUT!! Mortal desire is also something the Winged Lion "can't refuse." It's convinced by its own lies. Did I just blow your mind

Carnivorous by Band of Skulls — Eating yummy desires om nomnomnom

Little Monster by Royal Blood — The Winged Lion wants to eat Laios sooooo bad and this is a song about that.

Animals by Muse — LAIOS IS GONNA ENSURE HIS OWN SURVIVAL!!!!!!!!

Leave My Body by Florence + the Machine — The Winged Lion leaves its own body to steal Laios', for "one grand moment." Laios leaves his own body to be become a monster. But the Winged Lion loses a lot more than its mind in that arrangement! I feel like the "Your history keeps pulling me, pulling me down" part can be interpreted in this context as like... the history of life. Of survival. Finite resources, something the Winged Lion will never understand. Florence Welch did not intend for this to be what her song was about but I don't care it's blorbo time

[irishmammonagenda]

Hii!! 🧚‍♀️It's Wee Emo anon 🍾

Really liked your last work, so here i am again

Can i request brothers reaction on MC who cry over small things?

Like they see little kitten on the street and - WHOOP! - they're bubbling sobbing mess

I'm kinda can't cry (sounds dramatic lol) and wanna MC to feel it instead of me 😬

Love your works, keep going bestie💐🏃‍♂️

HI WEE EMO <3 please ignore the fact you sent me this on april 27th and its now june i had gcses to prepare for 😔✊

anyway, who let you into my house 😧🤨

no seriously i've cried at multiple south park episodes. south park. sometimes i wanna cry when i see my dog i cannot be trusted i tear up so easily especially when im writing🙁

for not being able to cry that is not very good for you fr:

i used to not be able to cry + still only really tear up, some tears drip down and let out like 2 sobbing sounds before im good again, i dont even have to try and stop crying, two sobs and im done, but my biggest tip is, get tired like really sleepy to the point where your eyes water bc of tiredness then watch something really sad.

i ha to literally train myself to be able to cry again bro dw, i wish i could have a big long cry but like 3 mins of crying is better than none, trust me wee emo you'll feel better

#dontbottleupyouremotions

ANYWAY:

this was very hard to imagine their reactions to idk why, but i tried so 😔✊

grma wee emo for requesting <3 and grma everyone else for reading <3

Obey Me Brothers With a Sensitive MC <3

It was safe to say you were sensitive, back when Melanie Martinez's music was a lot better, you really could say that the song 'Crybaby' pretty much encapsulated your entire being, it still did, but you liked to think you were more mature in your music taste now. (You weren't)

Being suddenly catapulted into the Devildom did a number on your emotions, and you found yourself quite numb. But as you adjusted, and bonded with the others, you found that you were back to your usual self, which was a crybaby.

So then how do the brothers react?

LUCIFER

Great. Two Mammons.

At least Mammon No.2 (you) isnt a tsundere about it.

Lucifer does not like seeing you cry. Even if its because something is cute, (although he does find it quite adorable, not that he'd admit it)

This demon is of the opinion that tears should never disgrace your beautiful eyes.

He will invite you to listen to his records with him and purposely put on sad ones or really sweet ones so you grip onto him while you tear up,

He is a demon, after all. ;)

MAMMON

Finally. Someone who cries more than him!

It actually makes him feel safer around you, like you wont bully him for being more sensitive than his brothers.

Actually ends up dropping a lot of his tsundere act around you.

You watch movies together, but always have to check the Devildom version of 'doesthedogdie.com'

Idk, I feel like Mammon would give you a bit of bother for it at first but then slowly start to like, open up more, because he really does see himself in you like that.

LEVIATHAN

He blanks.

One day you start crying because of how cute the anime you both were watching was, Levi thought you were geniunely upset, so he tried to cheer you up.

You end up thinking that its really sweet and start crying harder.

Leviathan PANICKS.

Even now, he still gets really nervous when you start crying, and has popped into his demon form more times than he can count when you grab onto him and sniffle.

Please he's already so awkward he can't handle how cute you are.

You might make him start crying as well :(

SATAN

Satan 100% gets so angry he starts crying so he can kind of understand it.

He's just glad you cry over positive things :)

His favourite moment was definetly when you teared up over a small kitten. (He took several photos and also took the kitten home)

Like Lucifer he 100% invites you to read with him and picks the fluffiest most adorable romance he can find, or the saddest most heartbreaking romance he can find.

He likes when you cling onto him and look up at him with those big teary eyes.

He's a demon. What did you expect, ;)

ASMODEUS

He thinks you're adorable.

Any emotion on your face is adorable to him actually. <3

If you wear makeup he makes sure to get you waterproof mascara and other eye makeup so your beautiful tears dont ruin your beautiful makeup <3

If any of you remember that crying girl makeup trend? Yeah he deffo starts that up in the Devildom (a) to make you feel less embarrassed about it and (b) because he thinks youre so beautiful when you express yourself.

BEELZEBUB

He doesn't cry a lot, it's not exactly something that comes naturally to him at all.

Its not that he CANT cry or that he holds his tears back, its just that he doesn't normally process or reaction to things with tears.

Only in serious serious situations will he cry.

So when he sees you crying over one of those little onigiri things that are literally adorable, he thinks that you've somehow hurt yourself. (i nabbed this off of pinterest)

Beel panics, and mentally goes over the ingredients in his head, did he order something with an ingredient that was dangerous to humans?

He calms down when he realises that you're crying because it looks cute.

He feels you with that.

Makes an effort to take you to more places with food items displayed in cute ways.

Though you do have to look away while Beel cuts them up for you, otherwise you wouldnt be able to eat it.

BELPHEGOR

He laughs at you.

Point blank.

Originally when he's in the attic he uses your sensitivity as a way to manipulate you.

But post lesson 16, he really starts to appreciate it more.

This bastard will use his powers as the youngest sibling against you, he'll dress up in cute onesies and give you puppy eyes, all to coax you into taking naps with him.

Which you do.

I have no idea how half of these fuckheads would react tbh

[coldgoldlazarus]

Okay, mostly done screeching in excitement, now it's analysis time.

First point: That purple blast of the turret getting taken out looks great.

Looks like we're opening hot, a lot like Corruption's beginning. Hopefully won't be quite as protracted as the Norion battle, though, lol.

Also, I've seen some jokes already about how this section will end with Samus getting depowered like the openings of Prime and Echoes, but given how barebones her arsenal seems to be here, (missiles and morph ball, which sometimes she just starts with and keeps, maybe bombs too) I don't expect that to happen.

The HUD and helmet edges are a lot more dialed back this time, pushed as far into the corners as they can go. Probably better for visibility this way, but I am gonna miss the more wraparound feel of the previous setup, with the missile count and hazard meter along the sides. But this isn't a bad look by any means, and we still have a fair few items here.

A & B: My bet is this is the replacement for the old hazard meter. In addition to keeping it out of the way, putting it right next to the motion tracker is a good move. I may actually remember to use that more this way.

C: Health bar is obvious, of course, but I really like the move of tucking it away into the notch on the top of the Echoes/Corruption/Beyond(!) helmet visor. The lines around it suggest an empty row above, undoubtedly for the energy tank pips once those are picked up.

D & E: Minimap is present as usual, not really much to say there, but I love the addition of a compass direction scroll beneath it, which should be helpful for putting places in context of the broader map. (Tallon IV's elevator label system, anyone?)

F: Missile count has been shunted down from the side to the bottom corner. I'm interested to see if it will grow upward, or just stay in its present spot and scale accordingly, as you collect more expansions.

G: This is the one everyone's already pointed out, but it seems that we won't have a visor OR beam swap readout.

Scan Visor is still an option as shown in the next bit, but based on the lack of an indicator in the hud, it's probably just going to be a toggle between that and combat, without anything else like X-Ray or Thermal or Echo or what have you. (Or it could be that that would only get added to the HUD after picking up a third visor, but I won't hold my breath for it.) Kinda disappointing to deemphasize one of the cool new mechanics the Prime subseries brought to the table, on one hand, but I'm still grateful to have the Scanner, and the extra ones always did struggle a bit to see much use.

Similarly, a bit disappointed this means we're probably looking at a stacking beam like in Corruption and the 2D games, (unless of course beam swapping is still there and just being left off the HUD until relevant for the sake of cleanliness #copium) but not entirely surprising; I'll live.

But what is interesting is what's there instead. The D-Pad seems to be tied to non-Beam weapons or tools instead, with the missile launcher as the only one available at present. I'm really curious to see what the other items will be; I imagine this is going to be Prime 4's unique spin on things. I saw someone suggest affinity weapons like in Hunters, but given those all function like Beams, it feels weird to me to set them against Missiles instead, ammunition requirements notwithstanding. I'm not going to rule those out, of course, but I could see this being something completely different entirely.

Again, I am very glad to see the Scan Visor is still here at least. Even better is that it uses the full-body highlighting of objects like Echoes and Corruption instead of Prime 1's icons. Pretty minimalistic layout, all told; I like that the scanning bar is a ring now. And it doesn't reflect Samus's face by default like in Corruption, which makes sense since we're not liable to have the same kind of mutation shenaniganry happening here.

I forgot to snag a screencap of this bit on my computer, so forgive the lower quality, but this scene is interesting for a few reasons.

The Pirates' breaching charges letting them into this room just as Samus passes through a gap in the wall overhead is a nice touch, and also remniscent of some sequences from early on in Corruption.

The Federation guys in here seem to be wheeling away someone or something on a stretcher in a hurry. That could be important.

Energy tank up in the rail section, but blocked by a box. Are we just going to bomb through to get it right away, or will we drop down into the room, and have to come back from the other direction to pick it up? (Please be the other direction)

Samus looking spiffy here, even at a distance. And as some have pointed out, looks like she's walking out of a portal instead of a door, pointing to either more dimension-hopping shenanigans like in Echoes, or possibly the time travel elements I recall hearing Tanabe wanted to play with at some point. (This plus the black hole look of the logo makes me think this could be more likely.)

Whatever the nature of the portal, though, the interesting thing to me is the sort of circular structure in the rock around it, suggesting a doorframe almost. A lot of the portals on Aether seemed to actively cut into the environment at random, the rock carved out in perfect spheres with fucked-up edges, and interrupting the pre-existing architecture or geology. In contrast, this looks like it was put here on purpose, implying a more controlled creation. Potentially really fascinating implications in that.

I also kinda wonder if these portals will be replacing elevators as a way to get between regions.

Ignoring the big numbers in the middle, (though they do kinda mess with my prediction that Prime 4 was going to be a 2024 holiday title to avoid getting eaten by Switch 2's inevitable 3D Mario launch title,) a couple things stand out to me here.

Giant tree in the background is giant, and I love it for that. Also looks like it's not the only giant tree here, even if still probably the biggest. I hope we get to go there later.

But in addition, we have a bridge in the middle distance, and a tunnel opening in the foreground. I will eat my hat if we don't get to cross that bridge, and my bet is that they're going to pull a similar trick here as with Skytown, letting low-poly versions of other "rooms" be visible from the current one, but dividing them with interior sections for optimization reasons, allowing for amazing landscapes of all traversible terrain. I loved that there, it looks great here, I can't wait to go explore all this myself next year.

[toovaeloe]

ditzy | he loves you to death, you’re just a little bit dumb and disaster prone sometimes.

☁️🤍☁️

Choso loves you.

Really, he does.

He wouldn’t be able to count all the things he admires about you on his hands, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop discovering new things he just adores about you.

One thing maybe being that you’re fairly independent and self-reliant, somewhat like he is, and he really appreciates this detail of you. It somehow makes him feel more connected to you, like he understood you on a deeper level. And it made his heart swell to know he was one of the few people you’d ask for help, that you sought the advice of. Because Choso knew just how capable you were on your own. There wasn’t any question to your intelligence whatsoever.

He didn’t know how you did it.

…

…That being said…

He also didn’t know how you did it.

How can you manage to be one of the smartest people he knew and then at the same time a completely klutzy airhead?? In the most adorable way possible, of course. But still. Adorably annoying.

It was little things sometimes, like frequent incidences of you totally flipping out because you lost your phone— meanwhile it’s right there tucked in your pocket, or even in your hand.

Or maybe it’d be right to mention your complete lack of directional sense.

Phone calls with the preamble, “Choso, I think I lost my car in the parking lot, I don’t know how I’m gonna get home—!” Your distressed voice filtering through his phone speaker, insisting you’ve been looking for at least an hour now making him leap up and snatch his keys to come to your aid at 8:42pm on a Thursday evening.

Spoiler alert: it was parked in one of the first spots near the door. Somehow you had managed to have ventured into the neighboring store’s parking lot in search of your car.

It was things like this that made him run his hands through his hair in an expression of stress and relief all at once; his hands drag down his face in frustration. All the while he would shake his head, still thinking you were still the cutest little shit.

But it was worrying to a degree. (And definitely got his heart rate up.) How had you made it so far in life like this?

You guys were chilling in his apartment one weekend night, maybe binge watching a show, and he swears he only left you on the couch for 5 minutes tops while he took a piss.

It’s your blood curdling scream that has him storm out the bathroom without drying off his hands and faucet still running.

“What, what’s wrong!?” He urges as he charged back into the living room, prepared to be confronted with the worst. An intruder, perhaps.

But all he’s met with is you standing on the opposite corner of his sofa, clutching onto it as if for dear life and pointing shakily down at something on his hardwood.

“Spider!! It’s huge- kill it, hurry! please!!” You fretted in terror….over a lump of fuzz that must’ve collected and detached off his rug he had under his coffee table.

He didn’t know whether to outright laugh or just sigh.

Instead he shook his head with a barely stifled grin, striding over to the incriminated lump of carpet and bending down to pick it up, presenting it to you with exaggerated theatrics.

“Oh, this spider?” He mocked, taunting and exasperated as he rolled the material between his forefinger and thumb; watching as you squinted at it before your eyes went wide with realization and growing embarrassment. “Well don’t worry, you’re safe now.”

What was he going to do with you?

a/n: make his heart palpitate 🤍

a preview of my choso bot intro here on j.ai

but basically a fluff piece if it stands on its own

consider checking it out if you’re a user on there! my ask box is open to requests that I’ll try to fulfill or suggestions for what you want to see!

[meetinginsamarra]

Self-rec Thingy

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Thank you for the tag @raina-at

It feels like betrayal to my beloved children 😉 to pick five but here we go.

The Perfect Place 

Sherlock needs a flatmate and already has the perfect person in mind. Now he only needs to convince his object of desire to move in and also find out if he desires Sherlock as well.

I am so in love with my second newest fic! Written daily for some of calais_reno's mayprompts 2024, it evolved into a hilarious funny cringefest with pining idiots and snarky comments made by the narrator. I grinned/laughed all the time while writing and people in the comments said they did, too. 10k words.

The Curious Case of the Casablanca Killer 

Deemed a three at best, the case of an invisible burglar in a historic cinema who stole nothing only caught Sherlock’s attention because he was bored. Also, he wanted to do John a favour. In the end, this proved to be a real stroke of luck. Otherwise, Sherlock would have missed an intriguing mystery that quickly ramped up in complexity.

I am very proud of this one! My first real 100% case fic. It took a lot of plotting and about a year to complete. It started as a gift for my friend and beta reader @peageetibbs , a short idea for a murder in a cinema since my friend runs a real cinema with a group of people in real life.

I have imagined that a lot more people would be eager to read this (ngl I am disappointed about its hit count development). Sherlock solves a complicated case, lots of hints and clues, all is logical and an epic chase sequence at the end. Established friendship, no smut. 56k words. Go read!

Learn My Scars 

After being thrown down and strangled, Sherlock leaves John in the restaurant, angry and deeply hurt. When John follows Sherlock to 221b, he learns that Sherlock's scars have not been acquired by “gallivanting around” for two years.

Very proud of this one, too. It has been written under a huge amount of stress. Written for whumptober 2022, it was posted daily for 31 days with sometimes really long chapters of over 2k words. Looking back, it feels like I've written all my spare time and doing little else for six weeks. It was insane and it was great.

It has the most kudos and second most hits of my fics, 38k words.

Sherlock comes home after the hiatus. My S3 fix-it fic starts at the restaurant scene and goes very differently afterwards. Johnlock endgame, lots of hurt/comfort and tales of what happened to Sherlock while being away, including a long part set in the Serbian cell.

The 13th Book 

Summoning a demon was actually quite simple if you could avoid getting killed in the process. Therefore, only the powerful, the desperate or the stupid would attempt it. John Watson was likely the first, definitely the second but hopefully not one of the third kind.

A magical realism AU. Sorcerer John summons a demon, Sherlock. It happens very differently than it's been expected. Not a lot of actual magic but enemies to friends and an epic bromance ensues. Funny moments, no smut. 26k words.

My AU world interweaves with BBC Sherlock universe and incorporates "Inspector Columbo" and "On the run elements" and this is the reason why I've picked the fic for this list. I made real still-life arrangements for each chapter and photographed them. The pics are posted in the fic. I am a bit sad that there are not so many hits on this one.

Wretched and Divine 

Dr. John Watson is on call at the A&E when he attempts to treat a very special patient. Instead he finds himself a very special treat.

My first ever posted fic. The punklock AU different first meeting is still very well-written (so I believe) for a first! It's funny, in character, on point and John is so in for a surprise! 5k words.

I love the punklock theme so much that this one spawned a sequel and I wrote another 3-part series with punk!Sherlock.

+++++++

Tagging @keirgreeneyes and everone who wants to share (I forgot who's already been tagged).

[mactiir]

sword misconceptions part 2: shortsword

Post series: longsword | rapier | buckler | dagger | spear

so as I'm getting back into fantasy lit as a historical fencer, there are a lot of things I am noticing cropping up in swordfights that are inaccurate or flat out wrong. So i wanted to write a post for my fellow writers putting down a few things I've learned in 2.5 years of swinging the actual weapons around!

Disclaimer: i REALLY wanna emphasize this because in my last post someone decided to get cute (and wrong) about this. Historical terms for weapons were NOT STANDARDIZED. There as no "one" longsword/rapier/shortsword etc when we're talking about a weapon that existed for hundreds of years across an entire continent. And "shortsword" especially is not a specific term. As how you use weapons are governed more by their properties than their names, you can generalize many things that may not have historically been called "shortswords" under this term. There are like five or six different weapons which have distinct traditions in HEMA which match the fantasy game description of "shortsword". So I'm talking here about any one-handed, straight-bladed, double-edged sword with a (mostly) simple hilt/crossguard and a blade length typically between 2 and 3 feet. As "shortsword" is a generic and not a specific weapon descriptor, this covers what we in HEMA call arming swords, gladiuses, some messers, and probably a bunch of other types of swords I can't think of right now (the "simple hilt" rule is because I'm putting italian side swords and scotch broadswords in a different category. They feel really really different to wield than an arming sword/messer, and classing them as shortswords feels wrong).

Misconception 1: dual wielding shortswords is safe and effective.

When you dual wield, you really REALLY want different length weapons in each hand -- like a dagger in the offhand. Otherwise they cross over each other, get in each other's way, and generally slow you down and mess you up. We'll dual wield matching weapons for fun sometimes, but it strangely feels very unsafe and most of the time you have to resort to windmilling (getting stabbed in the chest as a result). Is this a skill issue? Maybe partially, but there's another reason to have a shorter weapon in your weaker hand, and it's physics. Maintaining parry structure and speed in a full size blade is really hard to do in your weaker, non dominant hand, so if you're going to hold an offhand weapon, you want it to be something that can't be easily wrenched or beaten aside, and instead something that has more leverage (like a short lil dagger!) so that you can turn aside incoming hits without the sword getting blasted aside. If you have a character that's really, truly ambidextrous they might be able to legitimately dual wield full length weapons, but most of the time this one just looks silly.

Misconception 2: since it's a one handed weapon, you shouldn't use your nondominant hand at all.

One of my favorite things about slashy one handed weapons like messer and arming sword is that your offhand still gets a job, but it has to diversify its job prospects! Most "shortsword" traditions aren't like modern fencing the way saber or rapier are, where you only use your sword arm. In messer, which is a very grappling-focused system, your offhand's job is to grab your opponent's arm, put them in joint locks, seize the opponent's blade after you've locked it in a bind, and otherwise be a nuisance. In arming sword and buckler, the offhand holds a lil shield, whose job then becomes to suppress the opponent's sword by shoving the buckler into a bind, protect your sword hand, parry afterblows, or deny entire target areas to your opponent. Most shortswords are NOT weapons designed to be used without backup from your other hand in some way. Don't just have your character hacking an arming sword around. Have them close distance, grapple hard, yank, push, armlock, trip. Shortswords don't grant the luxury of distance longswords can. You have to be up close and very personal.

Misconception 3: shortswords are faster than bigger weapons.

And in close quarters, they sure as hell ARE faster, because that's where longswordsget jammed up by proximity. But "close quarters", in this case, is "less than five feet apart". I'm talking CLOSE. Correct to: measured by speed of the hand, you can swing a shortsword more times per minute than a longer weapon. But a few things equalize that: their length, so you have to step in to score a hit, making them slower; and their relative lack of mass. This seems counterintuitive, but think of it this way: cutting a longsword around often just involves redirecting its velocity, which is already trying to continue forward due to its mass, in a different direction. Cutting a shorty around often involves restarting the whole cut: it's probably stopped against your opponent's weapon or bounced off, so you have to re-engage your swinging muscles to get it moving again. This is why when you watch sword and buckler or messer fighting, fencers will often avoid binding their blades at all costs and instead repeatedly disengage under or around each other's blades instead -- because in this situation, with good footwork, the sword actually FEELS its proper speed. A two-handed sword is going to be faster and more nimble than a one-handed sword in almost all cases UNTIL you get close enough that the longsword wielder can no longer move their sword properly -- which is well within the longsword's cutting range.

Misconception 4: shortswords are for weaker characters than longswords.

My beef with d&d 5e is that every sword SHOULD be a finesse weapon with a strength prereq to wield. Yes, shortswords ARE lighter than longswords, but only by about a pound. Add that to the fact that you can only use one hand to hold it and the fact that you're probably trying to swing it faster due to being practically in the other guy's teeth, I find short swords actually more physically taxing to wield than longswords. They burn out your dominant shoulder BAD and there's no way to relieve the weight on your arm without dropping your sword and probably taking a point to the chest. Yes, they are easier to pick up. They are harder to fence/fight with for extended lengths than longswords, at least to me.

That's all I can think for now! Hmu with any questions or confusions.

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[jash-updates]

Most normal energy drink consumer

[weirdmageddon]

sorry for liking davejade in 2023 btw its in a cool way though

[idolomantises]

there's something so comforting about artists you admire talking about their own struggles and insecurities

[narwhalandchill]

every day i wake up have another fucking Realization about ajax and the shit he says and i just. Holds head in hands

WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE SAID THIS IN 1.1 WHAT DOES HE KNOWWWW

like childe Literally said skirk never elaborated on the narwhal thing to his face At All nvm explicitly bring up its origins as a cosmos traveling entity so its like. Either he lied (which would be funny as fuck im ngl) or Literally just . got the completely coincidental urge to call out the phrase "celestial voyager" at . his elemental attack recreation of the creature that just Happens to indeed be A celestial voyager . just Somehow. like how wildly convenient of you to identify that element specifically there with 100% accuracy ajax care to fucking Elaborate on the source of that inspiration there . Thanks xx

(i want this man dead irl)

[suffarustuffaru]

ok but im getting emo over heinkel again so im gonna talk about him again because yeah hes yet another sad character in a sea of sad characters and i love rezero for that but like he is a character consistently characterized by one loss after the other. it's a rollercoaster and its going straight fucking down and he is so miserable and absolutely alone and its both his fault and not his fault at all. but the way it starts is - its all out of his control. the more you think about the trajectory of his life the sadder it gets.

imagine you are heinkel and your parents are the sword saint and the sword demon and you come from a long line of knights and sword saints so thats almost definitely where youre headed, right? thats whats expected of you. you are nineteen years old and youre a knight in the royal guard, which was expected of you, and you have a wife and a beautiful baby boy, which was also expected of you, but at least you have so much joy and love for the latter while the former is just another chain on the astrea family line of people who are stuck to knighthood whether they like it or not. but your family is also just another chain because youre nineteen and your mother is still the sword saint and youre playing with fate here because either youre going to be the sword saint or your son will be.

your wife, the only equal you have, falls asleep one day and never wakes up. you are twenty-one years old and a single parent and then you are twenty-three years old and your son's fate is so much bigger than youll ever be. having the worlds love means that your love pales in comparison, doesnt it? everyone knows about your comatose wife because you keep searching so much for a cure that its just another thing to gossip about. every year that passes by she just continues to look the same as she did when she was awake and alive and loved you. (you dont know it yet but your son is going to reach the same age as her, because you dont find a cure for another sixteen years and you know that she wont love you anymore because who does? theres no one left because your son doesnt count.)

and everyone knows about you because of your family. because yeah, youre a good swordsman, but youre not liked by anyone in the knights. youre not a friend and youre certainly not a sword saint or sword demon. your son mind controls someone because he loves you so much that he would do anything for you and looks up to you like youre some hero, but youre just a wreck whos scrambling to keep what little you have. youre twenty-four and you lose your mom because you were too scared to go on the mission you were assigned on, because youre a coward and youre in over your head and you know, because everyone knows, that you dont measure up. you could never be prepared for this. in a long line of people who have to carry the weight of the world, you crumble easily. your mom goes on that mission and dies and your son becomes the sword saint like this was always going to happen. this is what being loved by the world means. you just killed your mom because you just couldnt suck it up and die on that mission instead. on top of that, your dad says that your five-year-old god of a son killed your mom. its just you and your son and the two of you both killed your mom but youre the worlds biggest laughing stock and your son is the up and coming hero and monster. but you still love your son. you really do.

right?