invinciblerodent · 4 months ago
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i kinda love just how often art looks like absolute hot garbage from a dumpster until it's like... 90% done. because after spending so long hating it, and pushing yourself to trust the process, and muscling through the insecurity and discomfort, that moment when it finally COMES TOGETHER??? is so bloody glorious, it makes all of that itching feeling so worth it.
like this applies to just about anything I think (maybe more to things with a visual- or tactile component, but I can see it for written media as well) but right now it's is specifically about an amigurumi doll i'm making-- and for like the last three hours i've been working on it, it's been looking like a horrible little old man, a nightmare-realm chibi-version of Geri-from-Pixar-fame, and the second i placed the first little chunk of hair over the forehead, it became instantly adorable, and I can't wait to show off the finished thing ❤️
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seasaltandcopper · 1 year ago
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vampire hunter AU Pt 2
[Prev] | [Next]
Summary: Mal is handed over to Teddy by the vampire hunters.
(This one got longer than I expected, and is still mostly set up for the story and dynamics, but it's also chock full of whump, so I feel like I'm splitting the difference.)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Profanity, mentions of torture, blood and gore, violence, manhandling, nonsexual nudity, imprisonment, starvation, dehumanization, ‘it’ as a pronoun (only used by one character)
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“Mal.”
One word. One name. It dropped from the hunter’s lips and snagged Mal’s attention like a fishhook through the gut. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard someone say his real name out loud.
Years, probably.
And now it spat from the mouth of this woman, this hunter, like a curse. Like some personal ax she had to grind with him.
Like she knew him.
Stiffly, Mal raised his head enough to get a better look at her. Short. Subtly curvy, but muscular. Dark skin, deep brown eyes, well-kept hair, all leather and denim and piercings with an attitude to match. The ensemble practically screamed, pick a fight with me and see what happens.
Teddy smelled like clean sweat, gun oil, and the intoxicating vibrancy of blood flowing through her veins. Life. Food.
God, he was starving. He was so fucking hungry it hurt. More than hurt. Hurt was a broken arm, a knife digging between his ribs, the burn of a cigarette put out on the arch of his foot—this was closer to losing a piece of his soul. Feeling it shredded and screaming in agony without relief.
Mal swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth before he choked on it, and tried to ignore the twisting in his gut as the smell of them permeated the cramped space. He held Teddy's gaze, sunken eyes peering out through a mess of filthy hair, but the flash of recognition he hoped for never came. She stayed unfamiliar. A stranger.
But one who obviously thought she knew him.
“Today’s your lucky day, bloodsucker,” she said, eyes flint-hard and sharp enough to cut. “You’re coming home with me.”
What?
Mal blinked. It took longer than it should have for reason to catch up and plunge icy fingers past the fog of exhaustion and pain. He’d expected—well, more of the usual. Another guest looking to blow off some steam, or getting “justice” for someone Mal had likely never laid eyes on in his life.
This wasn’t the first time the hunters had brought in a friend; honestly, the bleak-humored side of Mal was surprised they hadn’t thought to charge admission. Probably could’ve made a nice little profit on the side.
Still, the script stayed the same: they took him out to hurt him, and after they got tired or bored or felt they made their point, someone dragged Mal back to his box. Time passed, alone, in the dark—sometimes hours, sometimes days—before he was fed just enough blood to heal the worst of his wounds.
Then the cycle repeated.
Over and over and over. A horrific, never ending nightmare, but a familiar one.
Leaving with another human—no, a hunter, who knew his name, how did she know his name, who was she?—smashed every established pattern to pieces. Unease tangled like thorny brambles inside his rib cage, clawed at the back of his throat.
Mal couldn’t ask what the hell she meant; he couldn’t even open his mouth, muzzled like this. Cautiously, he glanced towards Brooks, hoping for some kind of clarification.
The hunter chuckled. Hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, and leaned back against the wall, smug as could be. The nasty glint in his eyes sent a cold tremor down Mal’s spine; he dropped his gaze back to his lap.
Brooks was one of the ones who’d taken a personal liking to Mal, early on. Back when they’d been uncommonly cruel in their attempts to wear him down, testing the limits of their creativity with techniques that still left Mal nauseous to think about.
If Mal’s heart had been capable of more than sluggish, off tempo beats, it would’ve raced.
“You got your own restraints for transport, or should I write up a slip for loaner gear?”
Reaching behind to unclip something from her belt, Teddy flashed a standard issue set of cuffs and a muzzle, then tossed it to him. “Here.”
Brooks snagged the gear out of the air. Stepped away from the wall with a sigh. Tensing, Mal pulled in a shallow breath through his nose, and watched Brooks out of the corner of his eye. The man’s black-polished boots crunched on the grit strewn floor.
The woman made a noise at the back of her throat. Derisive. “And hose him down or something before you bring him out. Smells like someone left roadkill in a hot van.”
Brooks snorted. A half-beat later, the toe of his shiny, black-polished boot slammed into Mal’s hip. It tore a pained exhale from him as he lurched to the side, the clatter of metal singing against brick. Catching himself on his forearm, Mal winced at the stripe of skin he lost for his trouble. Blood welled up in dark beads, staining the pale firebrick with more of the same.
Dead blood.
It wouldn’t satisfy like fresh, human blood would. It didn’t smell like anything at all. But the sight of it still tied Mal’s insides in knots as the instinct to feed spiked in response.
All his body understood was that it was starving, and that looked like blood, even if logic knew it was only a trick.
“Look, I don’t give a shit about the transfer order. Whatever. You want the vamp, you can have it. But we’re not runnin’ a grooming service. You want the thing washed and styled, do it on your own damn time.” Eyes still on the other hunter, Brooks tangled a gloved fist in Mal’s hair and hauled him upright. “Alright, shitsucker, let’s go. Up.”
Scrambling to get his legs under himself before Brooks left him with a bald patch, Mal twisted and choked on the words trapped in his throat. The sudden shift in gravity left his head spinning, limbs somehow both too stiff, and too wobbly to fully bear his weight.
Legs shaking, Mal planted his feet as best he could, but stayed on his feet. Barely. 
Just do it. Hurry up and get it over with, I can’t—
Brooks came to the same conclusion a second later. He hissed an irritated sigh, and released his grip on Mal's hair. Unsupported, Mal sagged on his feet, brows pinched in a pained grimace.
“Lazy motherfucker,” Brooks muttered. “Told you. Give ‘em an inch…”
Yeah, and I'd tear your throat out, you fucking bastard.
Strong fingers dug into Mal’s arm as Brooks worked to unlock the manacles. Heavy iron clattered to the bricks. Then again, as Brooks stooped and did the same for Mal’s ankles.
Without the added weight, Mal felt marginally steadier on his feet. And uncomfortably naked.
Gingerly, he ghosted bony fingers over the red, raw patches of skin circling his wrists. Black humor bubbled in Mal’s chest, and he swallowed back a laugh. Now he felt naked—without the extra pounds of iron weighing him down—but not because he hadn’t worn clothes in years.
On his list of priorities, Mal's desire for pants had dropped depressingly low over the years.
At least when Brooks cuffed him again, arms behind this time, he left Mal’s ankles unshackled. The muzzle went last, and a part of Mal hated himself for the way he tilted his head without prompting, obediently offering Brooks better access to the buckles; the rest of him didn’t give a shit, as long as it got the fucking thing off faster.
Brooks tugged it, giving the muzzle a disgusted look as no small amount of crusted gunk and scabbed tissue pulled free too. Mal barely noticed. After days suffocating in the thing, he was just glad to have it off.
He sighed. Worked his jaw, and held back a groan as sore muscles twinged all the way down his neck. Dried bits of filth Mal definitely did not want to identify crumbled loose with the movement. More of it itched under his nose and around his mouth, but the worst still matted the scruffy mess of facial hair stubbornly clinging to his jaw.
Even when they deigned to leave the muzzle off, there was only so much grooming he could do without access to water or rags or full use of his hands.
At some point Mal just gave up trying.
Gloved fingers snagged his chin, pulling Mal from his thoughts. He flinched. Not enough to pull loose—even reacting blindly Mal was smarter than that—but enough to earn an amused snort.
“Maybe it could use a hose down,” Brooks muttered. He ghosted a leather-clad thumb over Mal’s chin, squinting. “Ehh.” Then shrugged, wiped his finger clean on Mal’s shoulder, and lifted the replacement muzzle to fit in place.
Mal shivered as worn leather kissed his skin again. It sat overlapping some of the bleeding lines chafed by the old one, bright stinging pain sinking into a deeper, throbbing burn as Brooks cinched the straps tight.
At least this one was purely to prevent accidental bites—just a simple, boxy wire guard and leather straps—not like the ones Mal was used to, meant to completely immobilize the jaw.
He could still open his mouth. Take a real, full breath. Run his tongue over the outside of his teeth, or lick his lips. Talk.
This was fine. Mal could deal with this. This was—better.
After double checking his handiwork, Brooks laid a heavy palm on the back of Mal’s neck. He tensed, visceral disgust tingling down his back and making his skin crawl. Touch didn’t carry many pleasant connotations these days, but being touched by Brooks left Mal feeling genuinely sick.
The hunter squeezed once, pinching with his index finger and thumb. A warning.
“Let’s go,” Brooks ordered. “Move.”
Gentle pressure turned to a vice grip, and Mal hissed. His entire body was an ugly patchwork of marks—welts, burns, the scabbed over remnants of a recent caning, bruises layered on bruises; and his neck was no exception.
Brooks’ fingers molded themselves to older blue-green imprints, pressing hard. A sharp boot-tap to the knobby part of Mal’s ankle followed, and he cringed at the pathetic, wounded-animal sound that rose in his throat. Lurching forward, he struggled to stay on his feet and limp along at Brooks’ pace.
“I’m—trying,” Mal rasped, frustrated. He tripped again on the lip of the kiln. Would’ve fallen if Brooks hadn’t literally had him by the scruff. Shit.
The world pitched. Dark spots burst across Mal’s vision.
“Quiet.”
Fuck you.
Teddy followed silently, a dark smudge in the corner of Mal’s vision as Brooks manhandled him out of the room. Up one flight of concrete stairs. And another. Past the living quarters, and then into a part of the compound Mal only remembered seeing once: a pair of heavy steel doors that led outside.
Out, to the wide, open world and a night sky Mal hadn’t laid eyes on in years. He didn’t notice he was shaking until they stopped. Blinking rapidly, his vision strobed. He felt light, fuzzed at the edges, like he was about to pass out.
The pressure vanished from the back of his neck. Replacing it, a hand curled around his upper arm. Skin to bare skin. Warm skin, and slender, strong fingers. Though Teddy's hands were smaller than Brooks’, one of them still managed to encircle the entire circumference of Mal’s bicep.
There just wasn’t anything there anymore.
Side by side, Mal figured he stood a good five or six inches taller than her, but she probably weighed more. She sure as hell could’ve picked him up if she felt inclined.
“I got it from here,” she said, to Brooks.
A nod. “Sure. An’ listen, you change your mind, you can always drop it back off. Teddy, right? No questions asked.”
“Mm.”
“Yeah, alright,” Brooks said. “You got my number if you need anything—” A pointed pause. “Y’know, anything—handlin’ advice, someone to share a drink with…”
Grimacing, Teddy shot Brooks a look that would’ve vaporized a weaker man on the spot. “Yeah,” she drawled. “I got it.”
Raising his hands in mock surrender, Brooks took the hint. “Alright, alright, Jesus.”
Eyes the color of dark amber settled on Mal’s face, and this time he visibly grimaced at the attention. Swallowing hard, he tried unsuccessfully to push back against rising anxiety as Teddy addressed him directly.
“You try anything and I’ll break both your legs, and drag you the rest of the way to the truck by your hair. Got it?” He nodded.
Yeah. Mal got it. And his tentative hopes for ending up somewhere even marginally better than here dwindled by the second.
Warm, sweet smelling night air folded around them as they stepped outside. Grumbling to himself, Brooks turned and vanished into the compound without a word, not even sparing a glance back.
He’d probably agonized more over tossing out an old pair of boots. Or getting shot down by a cute hunter.
With a sharp bang, the doors pulled closed behind them. Sighing, Teddy tightened her grip. Something Mal couldn’t identify flickered across her face. Disgust? Anger? Whatever it was, Mal blinked and it was gone.
“C’mon. I wanna beat the sunrise home.”
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AN: Annnnnd we're about to start really getting into the meat of it. I actually planned for more to happen in this chapter and had to shove that in the next one, and this still ended up 3x longer
Next chapter we get to meet Will, the other half of the hunter duo
Taglist: @whumpsday @writereleaserepeat @thecyrulik @lookbluesoup
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pianokantzart · 3 months ago
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Why on earth did Queen BeanBean take so long to knock out!?
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a-very-sparkly-nerd · 4 months ago
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Are you crazy about Sorvus? Do you like them even a teeny-tiny little bit? Are you a writer? An artist? Do you want to see more of Soren and Corvus all in one place?
Then come one, come all, to our lovely little Sorvus Sector! There's never too little room, so join immediately or ten years after (I'll probably still be lurking lol).
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ratcandy · 10 months ago
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do you have tips for writing eloquently?
I have started and scrapped and rewritten this post so many times because my confidence level is not working with me here sdhgkJSDGH
Well! Um! To be bluntly honest, I only write Zote's dialogue like that (assuming that is where this question stems from) because I read and reread his dialogue again and again over the course of a year back when I was writing CoGR!,,,
And then once you write like that for a year straight, it sort of becomes second nature to you hdgKHSKH
So if you've got a muse that you'd like to reference the word choice of, honestly, drenching yourself in their speaking mannerisms for a while can help you pick up on the subtleties of how they talk pretty well! Like genuinely! Just sit down and listen to fancy old english for a while, if that's what you're going for. Listen to it for hours and pick apart how things are said and why.
But um! Aside from that, the one big point of advice I can give is to not make it sound forced. The point of eloquence is that it's supposed to flow and feel natural. You can use as many fancy words and syntax as you want, but if it feels stilted and strange, the effect will be lost.
When it comes to the Big Fancy Words, so long as you're using them properly and not over-using them to the point of sounding pretentious (unless that is in-character), you should be fine! I would think, anyway!! I abuse the hell out of wordhippo to get my fancy words, for example. But I try not to fancy word too much, and I make sure those words make sense in how they're used and where. Because the last thing you want is for it to be super obvious you're taking from a thesaurus as you go.
Also, of course, a good rule of thumb: I double/triple-check every word I use to ensure I'm using it properly, even if I'm 99% certain I am. Because otherwise you look Real Silly for it. Check how it's supposed to be put into a sentence. Check the definition. Check alternate definitions to make sure you don't accidentally say something you don't mean!
(This is how I found out that saying "in of itself" is wrong, and it's actually "in and of itself." Which is fucked up and evil, yes, but grammar is bitchy and horrible! Something else I recommend coming to terms with if you're gonna abuse that grammar to sound prettier hgkjH)
I find the best way to check that something sounds natural is to read it out loud yourself. Can you follow along with what you're saying, or do you keep finding yourself tripping over the wording? If you have to read a sentence ten times before it sounds comprehensible, it might be time to modify that sentence a little hdgkJH
And if just reading it aloud doesn't help, try recording yourself reading it aloud. Then listen to yourself and see if it makes sense. A trick I found online to check for grammar/spelling mistakes is if you're using something like Microsoft Word, there's a "Read Aloud" option under the Review tab in which it will read what you've written back to you. You'll notice if something sounds funky pretty quickly when a text-to-speech is reading it ghkjshSDG
[Another quick tip: Rationalize how eloquent you want a scene described/dialogue spoken, and think about whether it fits. Or if it would sound better less eloquent. Genuinely, sometimes a character spitting out "fuck you" has a much harder hit than a long spiteful monologue! Especially if that character has been nothing but eloquent up until that point!]
Otherwise, um. Well! It really is just a lot of practicing. Which is the worst advice ever yes I know, but most people can't fling themselves effortlessly into writing immaculate prose. Which. I AM NOt clAIMING I DO. FOR ONE. Just putting that out there!! It takes getting the hang of. It takes noticing where you slip up and noting how to fix it. It takes a lot of reading other stuff/listening to how people talk to get a grasp on it.
At least For Me. That is what I Do. And I am just Sitting Here. I started CoGR when I was 16,
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frumpytaco · 6 months ago
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Yesterday in a conversation with an undergrad, my PI mentioned that he was planning to go to the university’s marine station today to sample seagrasses. This was my first time hearing about this and I (naively I guess?) assumed that he had been planning this all beforehand. I asked if I could go if it wasn’t too much trouble (I sit in front of a computer all day and I miss the grass) and he said yes so I was like cool great. THEN at 4:30 in the afternoon, aka 30 minutes before I have to run to catch my train he was like “hey can you find a rental car for tomorrow?” and I was so fucking speechless all I could say was “yeah sure” and frantically tried to find a place, none of which were both located nearby and had pickup times that we needed. But I found one. And I couldn’t send him a link to it because the stupid rental website was storing all the work I did in the cache or whatever (idk I’m not a scientist) so I literally had to hand. him. my. computer. so he could pay for the car. AND THEN I realized wait this is an all day trip should I bring lunch because idk what the culture is in this lab (as if there’s any lab culture whatsoever but that’s a broader issue) /university and I asked him as I was leaving if we were stopping somewhere and he was like “oh food that’s a good point haha” (!!!!!!) and then I thought oh wait what about gear, like does the marine station have boots or waders we could rent? what’s the tide supposed to be like tomorrow? what sites are we going for? are we targeting Phyllospadix or Zostera because they live in super different habitats and require different sampling gear? And he had no answers to these questions. Also the low low tide today is -0.1’. Also he told me that Phyllospadix is not a seagrass, which, it literally fucking is and he had to pull up Wikipedia to check. So then he sent an email to everyone asking me to provide logistical information for tomorrow and I replied with as little snark as I could saying things about what to expect from the habitats and where to find the grasses. I realized I forgot to mention that nearest location of Zostera is in a national estuarine research reserve and I would be very surprised at this point if he’s considered permitting.
But you know what the best part about being tasked with planning a trip I didn’t know about the day before? Since I wasn’t planning on coming until less than 24 hours before, I can back out just as easily. You’re welcome for my help. What were you going to do if I hadn’t expressed interest in coming?

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dreamaze · 2 years ago
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CREATOR TAG GAME ⟡ coloring before & after tagged by: @shorelinnes, @wonjinist, & @wabisaba, thank you! ♡ tagging: @slowrabbitpd, @jjaes, @hyungheons, @kyunsies (i’m almost 2 weeks late to when this was going around, so if you’ve already done it sorry for the second tag! no pressure either way!)
— — — original posts: 1 ⟡ 2 ⟡ 3 ⟡ 4 ⟡ 5 ⟡ 6 ⟡ 7 ⟡ 8 ⟡ 9 ⟡ 10
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machinedramon · 2 years ago
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started playing the master chief collection and the idea of finishing some of these levels in halo 1 in under 15-20 minutes is kind of insane to me considering i’m literally brute forcing my way through them and have no idea where i’m going
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seagullcharmer · 2 years ago
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me: breaking the chain is just my silly little pseudo-crackfic :-)
breaking the chain: accidentally has too much introspection and angst
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kaywinnittam · 24 days ago
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I've had a typo in my twitch header for like four years.
I spelled my goddamn username wrong.
How have I done this.
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fingertipsmp3 · 1 year ago
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Okay I'm officially doing NaNoWriMo lol
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zephyrchama · 3 months ago
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I hope demons have sayings that sound really weird and messed up to humans, just as there are many diverse sayings across varying human languages that don't always translate easily.
---01
Lucifer looked up warily as you entered his office before breathing a sigh of relief. "I thought you were Mammon, here to give me another headache."
You strided over to his desk to take a peek at what he was working on. It looked boring. "We both know you love your little brother. What could be so bad this time?"
Lucifer buried his eyes in his hands, brushing his hair aside with the tail end of a pen. "He's been gnawing on my toenails all week."
You coughed in surprise, smacking your chest to loosen up the muscles so that clarifying questions could be asked. "What? Why? How?"
"Just general Mammon buffoonery as usual. For some reason he's especially persistent this week."
"I have literally never seen Mammon chewing on toenails..." Your lip curled back in disgust just imagining it. "Has he... done this before?"
"What?" Lucifer narrowed his eyes, puzzled. "Oh." His gaze softened once he realized what was happening and he huffed in amusement. "Mammon hasn't actually been gnawing on my toenails. It means he's getting on my nerves, as you might say."
You clasped your hands together and sighed, letting a wave of relief wash over you. "Please. Just say that next time."
----02
"C'mon, c'mon! If ya move any slower I'm gonna exfoliate Diavolo!"
You were running as fast as you could, despite Mammon being the reason for your tardiness. You didn't have much to lose, but Mammon could be in deep trouble for missing another morning class.
You wheezed and almost ran into him, not realizing he kindly came back to carry you. "Wh..." After a few deep breaths, you choked out your question. "You're gonna what? To Diavolo?"
Mammon thrust his bag in your arms in a rush and picked you up instead. He spoke as he began running, "yeah. He's gonna have my neck if I'm late again!"
"I get that, but is Barbatos gonna make you wash him...? Or...?"
"Wha? Are you still half asleep? Is that why you're runnin' so slow?"
You leaned your head back against his upper arm to stare up at him in frustration. He couldn't ignore your pouty face inches from his own. Mammon's ears grew red. "Knock it off!"
"Tell me what you mean!" you ordered.
Mammon growled and ran even faster. "What do you mean? I'm just tryna get us to class!"
---03
You scooted your seat closer to Leviathan. He perked right up and froze as you approached to whisper in his ear.
"Levi, XYZ."
"W-w-what? Is that a code?"
"No, XYZ. PDQ."
He reached for a pen and began noting the letters down. "P... D... Q... Got it. What's next?"
You shook your head. "No, Levi, your barn door is open."
"What game are we talking about? I haven't picked up Moondrop Basin in a few weeks."
You made a zipping-up motion with your hand. "Your fly!"
"Oh." Leviathan ruffled the back of his hair and swatted the air around his head. "Is it gone now? I didn't see any bugs."
Though reluctant to be so blunt, you were out of euphemisms. "Levi, your pants' zipper is open."
With an "eep!" he turned away to fix his problem. It took a few seconds. In his haste, the zipper kept getting stuck. He was mad when he turned back around, his face colored crimson. "Why didn't you just tell me? Without turning it into... into some game!"
"I did! XYZ, PDQ, That's what we say in the human world! Examine your zipper, quick!"
"That's so dumb!" he seethed, punching his knee. "What a spumid flaming cabbage. Your sayings are so weird."
---04
"Ready for the next one?"
"Hit me," you told Satan.
He grimaced from across the desk, raising his eyes from the paper to look at you in concern. "What? No, I'm not going to do that."
"Not literally, it's a human saying. It means 'give it to me,' or something like that."
"Oh." Satan jotted that down in the margins of his own notes before reading off the next phrase on his list. "This is one of my favorites. It's a colorful saying, but if you're really mad at someone you can call them a snot-cobbling banshee. I like to say this while cursing their next three generations."
You wrote that down. "How often do you use this saying?"
"Not too often. Well, maybe once a week with my brothers. It goes along with this next phrase which implies someone is dangerously stupid. Barbed dingbat."
You nodded. You were truly learning so much on this cultural exchange program.
---05
Asmodeus came into the kitchen as you were preparing dinner and wrapped his arms around your neck. He looked exhausted.
"Careful, I've got a knife, don't want to accidentally nick you," you warned. "What's up? Long day?"
"Like you wouldn't believe." Asmodeus peeped over your shoulder to look at the vegetables you were cutting. "I'm so glad you're home. You know, all day, all I could think about was..."
He proceeded to say some incredibly vulgar things. Detailed depictions of debauchery. Irredeemable acts of indecency that cannot be repeated on this blog. It made you put the knife down in a tizzy.
"Are those more demon idioms?" You snickered awkwardly and wiped your hands on a towel. "I've been learning about your sayings recently. Can't say I've heard those ones yet."
"What? Oh, no." Asmodeus lifted your hand, raising it to his lips to lick a stray fleck of vegetable skin off your fingertip. "These aren't sayings, this is just stuff I've wanted to do all day."
---06
"I could just eat you up."
This was something Beelzebub said often, and something he repeated again today. His hands were occupied with a fresh four-pounder with cheese, but his eyes kept drifting from it to watch you shoot paper balls into a wastebasket.
"You know, humans have the same saying. Isn't that funny?" You bounced up to grab some of the wads on the floor that didn't make it into the basket, to try again.
Beelzebub swallowed the mass in his mouth. "Really?" he asked between bites. "I thought you guys stopped doing cannibalism, mostly."
"Uh." You missed your throw. What should have been an easy shoot bounced off the edge and rolled away from the wastebasket. "Yeah, we did. Just so we're on the same page, you're saying I'm cute, right?"
Beelzebub was concerningly quiet as he chewed.
---07
"Are you on your way back to class?" Belphegor stopped you in the hall. You hadn't even seen him there on the ground, curled up next to a shady pillar.
"Skipping class again?" you asked. "I thought you liked magic theory."
"Maybe," he yawned. "It's too easy sometimes."
Belphegor fished around in his pocket for a second before pulling out a tightly folded-up sheet of paper. He offered it up. "Can you turn this in for me? I don't want my grades dropping over late homework."
"Sure thing, but it might be better to turn it in yourself. I heard Barbatos is doing random checks in all classes this week. He'll notice you missing."
"Nah." Belphegor's head drooped down as he prepared to doze off again. "If you see him, just tell him I'm being flerchen in the garden."
That sounded innocent enough. "Okay. What does that mean?"
"Means I've got the sniffles," he lied.
---08
Barbatos' eyes grew big and he placed a hand over his heart, furthering crumpling Belphegor's homework sheet in the process. He looked around to make sure nobody overheard before leaning in. "I must ask that you never say that again."
Behind him, Diavolo's palm was clasped over his mouth as he struggled not to draw attention with loud guffaws. He had his back to the classroom, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
"Why not?" You nervously shifted from one foot to another. You'd been had.
"It's not a topic I can explain here. Perhaps you and the Young Master should excuse yourselves for now. I'll come collect you both later."
Barbatos readily escorted you and Diavolo out of the room, shutting the door behind you so that class could begin without interruption.
"I'm just the messenger," you tried to defend yourself. Diavolo's fit of giggles was renewed. He grabbed on to your shoulder for stability while doubled over, trying to ride out the laughter.
"Did... did Belphegor tell you to say that?" He wiped a tear running down his face. You furiously nodded.
"Haha! Do you remember where he's hiding? I'd sure like to have a word with him."
You couldn't tell if Diavolo was going to praise Belphegor or tear him a new one. Perhaps a mix of both. However, the curiosity over what you said was overwhelming. You wanted to know the full extent of what it meant before seeing Belphegor again.
You decided to bargain with the prince. "I'll show you, but first you have to tell me what that means."
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littlechivalry · 4 months ago
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I love the idea of our Hawkins teens going to a showing of a Rocky Horror so much so please join me in this:
Eddie's driving. He's excited, loves that he gets to 'pop their cherry.' He pulls up to Harrington house expecting to see Steve and Robin posted up outside in full Brad and Janet regalia.
Eddie of course is dressed as Eddie and of course he thought about Frank but that might be too much. Steve is cool but is he cool? Eddie hopes but he's not an idiot.
Instead of proper Midwestern church clothes he finds Robin standing out front in a raggedy black suit, her hair greased down while Vicki (and yes Eddie had had his suspicions) is next to her dressed as a maid with her own bright red hair teased out to heaven.
"Riff Raff? Magenta? I didn't expect to see you two here."
Vicki laughs but Robin gives him a look that makes a shiver run up his back.
"So where's Steve? Decided to stay home?"
The last syllable barely leaves his lips when the door opens and - - -
LEGS. Fishnet stocking LEGS. Tap pants and a bustier and a shining tail coat and a top hat and a blinding grin and LEGS.
"Columbia?"
Steve laughs and dances down the steps and he's wearing tap shoes too? Eddie may not survive this.
Robin laughs at him but Vicki pats his shoulder in commiseration.
The drive to Indy is filled with jokes and conversation and music and Eddie is paying attention to the conversation. And he is paying attention to the road. But
LEGS
They get to the theater and get their props and their seats. A few songs in Steve begs off to go to the bathroom. Does Eddie watch him go? Of course. Can he actually see him very well in the darkened theater? No. But it's the principle of the thing.
Then the music starts up for the Time Warp and Eddie is on his feet along with everyone else in the theater. There are performers on stage dancing along with the movie, a long line of tuxedo clad strangers when suddenly a figure goes flying across the stage and Eddie can hear Robin and Vicki whooping but he is frozen.
It's Steve. Tapping. It's a perfect recreation of Columbia's dance routine and when the other boy finally comes to a stop, gasping, on a chair at the corner of the stage Eddie finds his voice screaming louder than he has at any concert he's ever been to.
A few minutes later Steve makes his way back to his seat and Robin lunges past Eddie to throw herself at him. Eddie can make out that she's talking but not what she's saying.
They make it through the rest of the show and it's amazing. Eddie's second favorite moment may be when Steve and Robin wrapped their arms around him during "Eddie" wailing out fake sobs.
They sing and shout themselves hoarse. The ride home is quiet but in the best possible way. Robin and Vicki are as good as sleeping in the back of the van and Steve is leaning against the window, humming along with the radio.
"Hey," Eddie says softly. "Where did you learn to dance like that?"
Steve smiles but it's barely a shadow of his usual smile and it fades fast. "When I was little my mom still gave half a shit about being seen as a good mother so she put me in dance classes. It didn't last too long. My dad didn't like it and after a while it became more important for her to be seen as a good wife so I was taken out and put into every sport."
Eddie doesn't say anything. Can't say anything.
"I really liked it though? I can't play music and I'm not much of a singer but I really like dancing. Robin had to put up with me practicing this almost constantly for the past few weeks. I thought she was gonna kill me."
"So you learned this for tonight?"
Steve turned to face Eddie and smiles. "I learned it for you, man. Thought you would get a kick out of it."
The small ember of Eddie's crush on Steve had initially been lit years ago in high school. He had banked it carefully, couldn't bear to let it go cold but too worried about losing Steve as a friend to let it flare bright.
"You learned it for me?" Eddie's stomach feels warm
"Yeah," Steve says, smiling. "Every Eddie needs a Columbia, right?"
Steve is laughing at him and that only makes Eddie feel warmer. Steve. His crush, Steve. Steve did this for him.
"Yeah," Eddie says. "Yeah, he does."
"Thought so," Steve says, turning back to the window.
Eddie drives them back to Hawkins in a silence full of potential.
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teaboot · 8 months ago
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As someone who learnt english as a second language via textbook, I have to say "flying by the seat of my pants" is a hilarious idiom xD
It's the first time I've seen/heard it.
Could you share another one you like using?
Idk about idioms specifically, but there's a bunch of phrases I learned from my mom!
Lord love a duck! (Incredulous, like 'oh my god')
Lord suffer in sheep dip! (Sheep dip meaning sheep poop. Incredulous, but for annoying things- like 'are you kidding me?')
Is there a piano tied to your ass? ('Don't be lazy, do it yourself')
Someone's cruising for a bruising. (You're picking a fight.)
I don't give a rat's rip. ('I don't care'- a rat's 'rip' is it's butt crack.)
Pull up a stump! (Get yourself a chair, sit down.)
Everybody out of the pool! (Get out of the car)
I'm flying by the seat of my pants. (I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm doing it.)
Don't go blowing smoke up my ass. (Don't over-compliment me, don't flatter me, don't stroke my ego, don't tell me positive lies)
Looks like it's gonna rain on our parade. (A storm is coming.)
Sorry to rain on your parade. (I've given you bad news- can be used sincerely or sarcastically to denote sympathy for incurring a bad mood.)
Better button that lip. (Stop talking.)
Someone's gonna stick a boot up your ass. ('Stick a boot up your ass'- fight you, beat you, kick your ass.)
Stick that lip out any further, and a pigeon'll shit on it. (Stop whining.)
Suck it up, buttercup. (Stop whining.)
Dumber than a fence post. (Very stupid.)
The back forty. (The wild or forested area behind a rural home. The 'forty' being forty acres, or farmland.)
Don't go begging for a fat lip. (Whatever you're saying or doing is going to bother people and get you in trouble.)
What on God's green earth (What the fuck)
I'm sweating like a pig in a porta-potty (like a pig in a plastic outhouse- I'm very warm, it's hot here)
He thinks the universe flew out of his ass. (He thinks he's more impressive than he is.)
Your mouth wrote a cheque your ass couldn't cash. (You promised more than you were capable of providing.)
You've got a horseshoe up your ass. (You're very, very lucky.)
Taking a dirt nap. (Dead.)
Pushing (up) daisies. (Dead.)
Give me forty acres to turn this rig around. (I need time and space to move this large, heavy, or unwieldy thing. Usually about navigating a vehicle. Taken from a song lyric.)
Jesus take the wheel. (God help me, I can't handle this, I give up.)
Gone belly-up. (Has died.)
We've got a floater. (This one is dead.)
Herding cats. (Trying to organize chaos, managing an impossibly complicated situation.)
I've got a black thumb. (I am bad at growing plants, all my plants die- reference to having a 'green thumb', or being good at growing plants.)
Stop trackin' floor cookies. (Floor cookies are bits of animal shit that fall off your work boots- 'tracking floor cookies' means wearing your boots in the house; take your shoes off at the door.)
Running around like a headless chicken. (Frantic, disorganized, stressed out by many tasks or panicked by a big situation.)
Spinning my wheels. (Waiting around for something to happen, getting nowhere, frustrated by inactivity, not making any progress towards a goal.)
He's gonna blow a gasket. (He's going to lose his temper, he's going to be angry.)
They'll tan your hide. (They'll punish you severely; usually through violence. Specifically in reference to a spanking.)
He's a few bricks short a load. (He's not clever / he doesn't think things through / he's crazy)
Not the sharpest tool in the shed. (Not the smartest person. Very dumb, clumsy, or absent-minded.)
I'm not going to bail you out. (Not going to save your sinking boat- not going to help you out of your bad situation.)
Looks like things are going south. (The situation is growing worse.)
I'll start making tracks. (I'll leave now, I'll start working, I'll get going.)
He's fucking the dog. (He's not being productive, he's doing a bad job, he's made things worse, he's screwing around.)
He's making puppies. (Less graphic version of 'fucking the dog'.)
Plant your ass. (Sit.)
Playing grab-ass. (Procrastinating- accomplishing nothing, slowing people down.)
He couldn't find his ass in the dark. (He's stupid, ineffective, underqualified, or incompetent.)
He couldn't pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel. (He is unbelievably, comically dumb or ineffective. He can't do anything right.)
One foot in the ground. (Dying, or half-dead.)
I'm kicking rocks. (I'm not doing anything productive.)
I'm hauling ass. (I'm running away.)
Madder than a wet hen. (Very, very angry.)
Like I said I'm not sure that these are all idioms but they're all the phrases and sayings from my childhood that I can remember right now
EDIT: Cannot BELIEVE I forgot my mom's favourite
52. Wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which gets filled first. (Wishes don't come true by themselves)
Plus some more I forgot:
53. You make a better door than a window. (You're in the way of my view.)
54. You can take a long walk off a short pier. (Go fuck yourself.)
55. He's about as sharp as a bowling ball. (He's stupid.)
56. Scoot your poot. (Move over.)
57. Not my first rodeo. (I know what I'm doing.)
58. He's built like a brick shithouse. (He's broad and sturdy and very strong, solid.)
59. I smell bacon. (I saw a cop nearby.)
60. I don't want to hear a peep. (Stop talking.)
61. You're thinking with the wrong head. (You're making bad decisions because you're horny.)
62. I'd lose my ass/head if it wasn't tied on. (I'm very absent-minded, forgetful.)
63. That went down like a lead balloon. (That situation was bad.)
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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 4 months ago
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Write some baby Reid stuff?!
༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝
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— pairing: college!spencer reid x plus size popular girl!reader
— summary: who knew that seven minutes in heaven could lead to spencer losing his virginity to the girl he thought was completely out of his league?
— warnings: reader teaching spencer how to please her, light breast play, heavy consent reassurance (bc reader wants to make sure his first time is memorable), praise, sub!spencer reid, dom!reader, praise kink, heavy use of nicknames, petting if you squint, stripping, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, lack of foreplay, vaginal sex, teasing, a sprinkle of comedy in there cause i couldn't help myself, loser boyfriend!spencer plain and simple.
— wc: 1472
⋆ a/n: HIYAAAA this is the much demanded part two of my dry humping kinktober fic, but you don't have to read it to understand this one (but it would be preferred!!). i'm also writing this because I have something planned for this year's kinktober and i'm trying to set us up for greatness here sooo!! we'll definitely be seeing this couple again ;]
masterlist || AO3
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Oh God, Spencer was shaking. He was about to lose his virginity to the girl of his dreams, and he was fucking shaking.
You had to cut the man some slack, because throughout his college career, all he had been worrying about was working toward his first PHD, and his mother, who he had left back in Las Vegas.
As soon as he had entered your empty dorm room, your hands were on him. You tugged lightly on the roots of his hair, attempting to coax him into doing something, because right now, he was as still as a statue and yet trembling at the same time.
“Spencer…” You separated your lips with his and he immediately frowned. “Yeah - yes, yes? Are you okay?” Oh God, you were going to tell him you didn’t want to have sex with him anymore, that everything leading up until now was a mistake and -
“I should be the one asking you that.”
“What?” He asked nervously with furrowed brows.
“Well to start, you're shaking like you're cold and you aren't kissing me back.” He started to pick at his cuticles again. “I- I-” Stop stuttering, damnit!
“What?” You teased with a small smile, “Can you only get hard in public? Is it a kinky thing?”
“What?! No, no!” Spencer sputtered incredulously. His eyes were wide and frantic to the point where he stopped picking at his nails. That wasn't what this was at all! How could you think - oh. Oh. You were being sarcastic.
“I'm just kidding, Spence.” You took your hands off his body and he almost chased their warmth. “We don't have to do anything you don't want to; we can just watch a movie or something. My roommate isn't going to be back for who knows how long.”
“No - I… I want to. I'm just… nervous. I’m -” He gulped. “I'm a virgin.” His confession was muttered and meek but you heard him. The man looked up at you through his long eyelashes, his brown irises boring into your soul in wait for your reaction.
You bit the inside of your cheek and examined him for a moment. “How about this,” You grab him by his hand. “I’ll show you what to do and we'll rectify that tonight if things go well.”
You took a step toward him and his back but the door with a quiet thud. “And I'm sure you're a quick learner, aren't you Reid?”
“Very! I'm a very quick learner!”
“That's what I like to hear.”
You led him over to your twin sized bed and stood by it. You had no idea how the both of you were going to fit on it, but you were really just flying by the seat of your pants right now.
“Take off my dress.” You command softly. “O- okay.” His quivering hands grab at the hem of your dress and tug it up, all the while he was watching your face.
Spencer sucks in a breath at the sight of your bare chest and panty clad lower half. He was throbbing where he stood, and he almost died of embarrassment.
“Touch me, baby.” You encouraged him lightly by grabbing his lithe and shaky hands and placing them on your heavy breasts. He all but gasped at the feeling, but he quickly covered it up by clearing his throat.
He pinched your nipples gently and it caused you to moan quietly.
“Is this okay?” Spencer asked with a swallow. Your hands left his own and your fingers dug into his biceps, your lips rolled in between your teeth to hold back your sounds. “More than okay.” You breathed.
It goes on like that for a moment and the need that was pooling in your gut was nauseating, and your blood was rushing to every part of your body.
“Spencer…” You sighed. “Take your clothes off.”
His eyes widen in disbelief, his hands all but snatching them off your breasts and to the buckle on his khaki pants. His fingers are uncoordinated and nervous but he manages to get it out the loop while you work on pulling your thong down your legs.
You can tell he’s trying not to stare at your newly nude bottom half, and you approach him and drag your fingertips across the band of his underwear. “Can I take this off, pretty boy?” You ask just in case. He nods dumbly. “Yes, yes please.”
He decides to take off his shirt while you rid him of his boxers. “You’re so pretty, Spencer.” You coo and look up at him through your eyelashes. His cheeks flush a deep red, just like they did in the circle. “T - thank you! You are as well and… and you’re pretty all the time too!” You just chuckle. “Thank you, baby.”
“Get on the bed.” You command, and he scrambles to follow your words. You’d work on teaching him foreplay later, because right now you need him inside you, badly.
“I figured this was better than trying to have both of us laying down on this tiny ass bed.” You joke and straddle him.
Spencer’s hands are raised, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. You take them wordlessly, placing them on your naked flesh. He can’t help but squeeze the meat of your hips, the fat of them spilling out from between his nimble fingers.
“We’re gonna take this slow, okay? Because I don’t want to overwhelm you.” You placed a hand on his cheek and grabbed his cock. He yelped, his hips shooting up at the simulation. “Easy boy, easy.” You coax.
He attempts to steady himself, teeth biting down on his bottom lip in order to try and keep his composure when the tip of his cock brushes against your entrance.
“Ready?” You ask. He nods like a maniac. “Mhm!”
Then you sink down.
Spencer sounds like he’s getting his soul stolen with the way that he moans out loud. It’s a mix between a scream and a whimper really, and his eyes practically roll back into his head. His grip on you tightens, holding onto you like a lifeline, and you honestly think that his fingers are going to bruise, but you don’t tell him.
Your legs are shaking and your stomach is tight and you’re smiling deliriously like a mad woman. He feels so good and he’s filling you up so well. It reminds you of how people say the skinniest guys are always hung.
Spencer’s fully sheathed inside of you and he’s trembling, uncontrollable whimpers and whines spilling from between his lips.
“You’re so warm please…” He begs, his hips jumping up once more. You yourself yelp in surprise and he’s instantly apologizing. “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, I just - just need more, please…”
“I got you sweetheart, just hang on.” You lift up until his tip catches your rim before sinking down again. He chokes on his own spit.
You manage to find a rhythm and Spencer desperately follows you, trying to offer you some pleasure as well. You know he is bye the way he’s constantly searching your face for any kind of disappointment.
“Do you not -” He huffs. “Does it not feel good?” It brings out a sad mewl. “It feels great, baby, I promise; but we can worry about me later. Tonight is about you, okay?” You force him to look at you and accept his words. “Okay.”
Your legs are getting tired but you’re determined to make him cum and by the look on his face and the scrunching of his eyebrows, he’s close.
“You close?” You huff out, sliding up and down at an overwhelming pace, even for you. “I - yes! Where should I…” Cum. Where should he cum is what he wanted to ask but he’s too embarrassed to. “Inside me.” You say with a smirk.
Spencer really wants to question it, but all thought is thrown out the window when he feels his stomach tighten and his legs lock.
“I - I’m -” But it’s too late by the time he tries to tell you, because he lets out a long whorish moan, and his back arches off the wall.
You grin down at him as he paints your inner walls white, your hands that were gripping his shoulders rubbing at the skin of his neck and down his upper arms. A shiver shoots up your spine but you welcome it nonetheless.
You soothe him back down to earth through his aftershocks and tiny whimpers. You feel him go soft inside of you but you don’t try to get off just in case he still needs you there comfort wise.
“Holy shit,” You laugh. “Are you okay?” You ask in disbelief.
“I feel wonderful.” The undertone of his murmur is giggly and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.
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ellecdc · 6 months ago
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I HAD AN IDEA FOR A REQ BUT I FORGOT IT AND I JUST REMEMBERED AGAIN
okok so shy!reader (similar to r in the poly!marauders + lily fic that i am genuinely obsessedddd with) but with barty and she just gets so flustered and blushy when he’s so loud and outspoken about his affection for her
barty would absolutely accidentally (& lovingly) torment poor shy!reader. thanks for your request! (I'm obviously currently in my Barty-girl era - I deserve jail time ur honour)
Barty Crouch Jr x fem!reader who tries hiding from Barty, much to Remus' chagrin
There were very few places in the castle that Remus could escape to from his nettlesome roommates. Thankfully, his roommates would rather be trampled by a stampede of hippogriffs than spend their precious free time in the library of all places. Unfortunately, Remus was still too easily spotted in his current hideout.
“Rem! Hide me!” He heard you squeak as you came flying around one of the stacks of books; eyes wild like a prey animal looking for their last chance at survival. 
“What?” Remus asked dumbly, but it was no use. 
You let out a cartoonish ‘eep!’ sound and dove underneath the table Remus was currently sat at; your head basically situated in Remus’ lap as you looked up at him desperately. 
“Please.” You practically begged. “You never saw me!”
“Who’s looking for you?” 
Remus' question was answered in the form of a haunting whistling weaving its way casually through the aisles and aisles of books before pausing directly in front of Remus’ chair.
“‘Lo, Junior.” Remus greeted politely, causing the Slytherin boy to narrow his eyes at him.
“Lupin.” He drawled suspiciously. “Aren’t there usually…more of you?”
Remus grimaced as he felt your nervous claws dig painfully into his calf. “Nope.” He replied an octave too high to be considered casual. “Just me.”
Barty simply offered him a disbelieving hum. 
“So, Lupin,” Barty continued, chewing the vowels of Remus’ surname as if it tasted particularly rancid in his mouth. “See anything around here lately?”
Remus hummed as if pretending he was in thought. “No…nope, definitely haven’t seen anyo- anything.”
But it was too late.
“Haven’t seen anyone, hm?” Barty surmised with a wicked grin. “Not even…say…a certain witch who happens to be the object of my affections?”
You dejectedly thumped your forehead against Remus’ knee, hitting the nerve which caused his leg to kick out reflexively, thus pushing you over under the table.
“Merlin’s tits, Lupin, are you having a fit?”
“Oh my sodding Godric.” You finally grumbled from under the table, causing Barty’s face to brighten up astronomically. 
It took you far longer than Remus would have liked to be sitting in the awkward semi-company with Barty to extricate yourself from under the library table, and your efforts were accompanied by an awful lot of painful sounding bumps and cursing before your - albeit rather bedraggled - form materialized beside Remus. 
“There’s my girl.” Barty nearly sighed in relief; a dopey lovesick smile spreading across his face.
“Do you see it too?” You whispered to Remus conspiratorially.
“See what?”
“That look.” You whispered again, causing Remus to snort.
“The look of adoration currently decorating Junior’s face? Yeah, I see it.” 
You scoffed at him. “Barty doesn’t adore me.”
“Says who!?” Barty nearly screeched, causing Remus to look around nervously at the attention the trio was quickly gathering. “I’ll kill them.”
“What?”
“Can I be excused from this conversation?” Remus groaned as he returned to his seat.
Barty quickly agreed at the same moment that you hissed no!
“Listen - my darling angel - though I think you’re really great at just about everything you do, you are absolute pants at hiding.” Barty offered you solemnly as if he were gently giving you quite devastating news.
“Maybe you’re just too good at this finding thing.” You huffed as you crossed your arms; quite petulantly, in Remus’ opinion.
“At finding you?” Barty asked as his face broke out in a Cheshire cat grin. “Always.”
Remus was certain you were going to melt through the floor below you, and - quite frankly - if it got you two away from Remus’ library sanctuary, so be it.
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