#From his somewhat baffled and concerned expression

[sophieswundergarten]

Kate and Alpacas

[ash-rigby]

It Becomes Us (Male Mutated Werewolf)[NB/M]

Featured Characters: A nonbinary human (initially) and a male werewolf. Both are adults.

Description: Nightingale, a sorcerer who studies interdimensional portals, accidentally opened a gateway which led to their werewolf partner being bitten by an unknown creature. Orion feels changed in a way he can’t place and asks to be restrained during the next full moon as he is worried it will affect his typical shift. Little do either of them know, but his concerns are completely founded, as intense yet exciting changes occur. And perhaps they’re a little contagious.

Contains: Eventual Monster/Monster, Light Bondage, Transformation, Stomach Mouth, Long Tongues, Tentacles, Diphallia, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Excessive Cum, Praise Kink.

Nonbinary Character Anatomy: Nightingale uses a spell which allows them to switch their genitals at will. They utilize both a penis and a vagina at separate times during this scenario. Terms for both sets are used. Their original sex is not specified and their chest goes undescribed.

Content Warning: Body Horror

Completion Date: February 29th, 2024

Word Count: 4937

Requested by @mushki-art (this was won via a raffle; requests are not always open) who asked for a submissive werewolf story and invited me to spice it up with some eldritch elements. I hope you like it!

-

The tension immediately left Orion the moment he was bound. He released a relieved sigh, a soft expression coming over his face that made Nightingale want to kiss the breath out of him. Or tease his body until those honey-brown eyes swam with tears. But despite his position, it wasn’t the time for it; this was technically their fault.

“Comfortable?” they asked him, allowing themself the somewhat innocent action of running their hand through his thick, dark chest hair.

Orion cleared his throat and shifted under their touch. “As much as I can be.”

He was laid out on their bed, Nightingale’s magic purple rings glowing at his wrists and ankles which kept his arms out from his sides and his legs lightly apart. It wasn’t an uncommon look for him. Nightingale’s eyes trailed over his naked form, their lips quirking at the sight of his already half-full, twitching erection. He was always easily excitable in the days leading up to the full moon. At least that was a sign of normality.

They sat on the edge of the bed as their hand travelled to the newly healed bite scar on Orion’s left bicep. An uninterrupted ring of teeth marks with a single puncture at the center. The colour was dark and shifted to carry a green tint in certain light. It had baffled Nightingale for weeks, matching nothing in any of their peers’ records. They gently ran their finger around it.

“You simply can’t help getting bitten by things, can you?” Nightingale asked. “First that mangy, cursed wolf and now whatever this wants to call itself.”

Orion shrugged as much as his bonds allowed, giving a crooked grin. “I must be tasty.”

“Oh, I can vouch for that.”

“Really though,” Orion said, bringing Nightingale’s attention back to his face. “Thank you for doing this. It’s hard to say what’s going to happen tonight…and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Nightingale leaned over him and wrapped a set of deft fingers around his neck. His breath hitched, pulse quickening under their pressing thumb. He swallowed hard against their palm as his eyes glazed.

Nightingale smirked. “You couldn’t hurt me even if you wanted to.”

They closed the distance and kissed him, invading his mouth with their tongue and making him moan. His sweet noises stirred a needy throb between their legs. There was nothing they wanted more than to take him apart.

He was panting when they pulled back. A drop of saliva escaped the corner of his mouth. Nightingale licked it back up past his lips, passing once more over his lower teeth before moving away.

Orion whimpered. “Touch me? Please? Just a little before—.”

Nightingale shook their head and clicked their tongue at him.

“Down, boy,” they said. “You know that can trigger you to shift early.”

“Right…right,” Orion said. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, an involuntary growl sounding in his throat as he released it. “Fuck.”

He was hard, his cock straining and leaking as he hissed his desperate curses. Nightingale only just managed to keep their head about them. Respecting their partner’s concerns had to come first. They swiftly stood from the bed and moved towards the door.

“I’ll responsibly admit that you are far too tempting,” they said, drinking in the bound, aroused form they were walking away from with immense regret. “I have some things to finish up. Will you be fine on your own for a while, darling?”

“Yeah,” Orion said. His hands curled into shaking fists. “Probably for the best. I—I need to calm down and your scent is…it’s a lot right now.”

“Poor thing,” Nightingale said with a theatrical pout. “Though…if all our worries turn out to be for nought, I’m also looking forward to some play time.”

Orion groaned, his head falling back against the pillow. “Not helping.”

“Apologies. I’ll see you later.”

Nightingale left the bedroom and closed the door behind them before making their way to the candlelit workshop. They went to the organized chaos of their desk; loose papers, open books, their peacock-feathered quill. It was easy to pick up where they left off in transcribing spells from a borrowed tome but their mind still wandered.

It had been a little over two weeks since the incident that led Orion to wish himself bound. Nightingale’s interest in exploring other planes and dimensions was to blame. However, they didn’t regret their choice of pursuits. Years prior, it had allowed them to uncover a sigil that granted the ability to shift their body’s sex at will; which had been a godsend to ease their frequent but not constant dissatisfaction with their birth equipment.

However, portal-based magics were unpredictable by nature. Not to mention intricate. One misplaced stroke in drawing a circle could send one off their target; as Nightingale had unfortunately discovered. It was embarrassing, to say the least. They prided themselves on their attention to detail but perhaps they had become cocky after so many successes.

The portal opened to a clearly hostile environment. A long, maw-bearing tentacle had lashed out at Nightingale almost immediately. Orion, ever the dependable protector, lunged to their rescue. But he paid the price of a nasty bite wound and gods knew what else. He told them he felt changed in a way he couldn’t place. Some ineffable thing that had been lodged deep inside him and brought fear.

Nightingale was forced to hastily destroy the circle during the struggle to banish the portal, thus wiping away any knowledge of where they went wrong. They had been trying to recreate their mistake. It was dangerous, recklessly opening unknown portals, but having access to where the creature originated from was looking to be the only way to glean answers. To fix this.

With a heavy sigh, Nightingale set aside their quill and stared at the closed bedroom door across the room. They usually took great joy in binding Orion; he was so well-behaved for them. The unease on his face had soured things. However, not enough to void their arousal it seemed.

Despite the circumstances and attempts to distract themself, Nightingale was unable to banish the lewd thoughts from their mind. Orion had looked so pretty, spread out and tied down as he whimpered into their kisses. How wracked by need he was; panting, begging, weeping from his hard yet untouched cock.

Nightingale couldn’t help themself; perhaps it was what this worry needed. Quick hands untied the front of their robes and pulled them aside. Their breath stuttered as their fingers went straight to what was currently their pussy. They were already wet.

The goal was release; not a prolonged, indulgent pleasure. Nightingale stroked themselves furiously, the sigil tattooed on their abdomen glowing warm as they focused on their clit to make it larger. The growth was rapid and they whimpered at the swelling sensation. Its stout two inches pulsed under their hand, aching to feel that familiar lapping tongue.

“Orion,” they whispered. “Orion…Orion.”

Their hand flew over their sopping folds and clit. The filthy, wet sound of it was the only one in the room as they bit back their moans. In their mind was a vivid evocation of themself bearing down on a thick, raging werewolf cock as its owner tearfully begged to be inside them. It had throbbed so desperately against their pussy, the thick knot bulging in anticipation at its base but doomed to not fulfill its purpose that night.

A memory of a delicious, mournful cry as Orion came all over his heaving chest heralded Nightingale’s only briefly satisfying orgasm—gods, they needed him.

Nightingale slumped in their chair, a relentless quiver between their legs. Their swollen clit twitched as if suggesting a second round but they denied it. How dare they consider touching themself stupid at such a time? Shame was hot in their chest. Panting, their eyes drifted from slick-glistening fingers to the closed bedroom door, concern as much as arousal remaining unabated.

Please be okay.

It was then that they heard something, muffled behind the wood of the door. Orion’s voice, deeper and laced with growls. Their gaze snapped to the clock. It was only a little after nine in the evening; his shift normally happened closer to midnight. He was groaning, sounding distressed. Nightingale shot out of the chair and raced towards the bedroom, not bothering to take the time to close their robe before bursting inside.

They could barely process what they saw.

Orion had undergone a change. That was expected; though the exact form, not so much. The wolven features Nightingale knew were visible even through such mutation. But his dark fur carried a green tint. Gnarled horns sprung from his brow. Countless eyes adorned his shoulders and upper chest like a mantle, as wide and rolling as the four on his face. A long, tentacle-like tongue stuck out from his open mouth as he cried out. But Nightingale knew then that it wasn’t out of pain.

He was moaning in pleasure and they could see why. A second pair of arms had sprouted below the first, unfettered by Nightingale’s magic as their large hands stroked his cock; no—cocks. He had two. His mindless pumping was halted with a flick of Nightingale’s hand and glowing rings affixing to his wrists.

Orion growled in frustration but seemed to quickly come back to himself. Though his raging dicks continued to visibly pulse against his palms. All of his many bright yellow, now-reptilian eyes met theirs. His voice held a serrated edge and somehow sounded like two speaking in tandem, echoing and deep as an abyss.

“F-fuck…I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know you didn’t give me permission to—I-I couldn’t help it. Please don’t leave me like this—oh, gods, I need to cum.”

Nightingale shushed him gently, waving their hands to situate his new appendages at his sides. With him laying still and fully spread, a last oddity made itself known. A large, fanged maw had opened up in his stomach. The surrounding fur was wet with drool. Nightingale watched as a tongue snaked out from it and wrapped itself around one of his swelling knots. Orion groaned.

“Stop that,” Nightingale hissed, fearful and vexed over his lack of priorities. But he obeyed, keening as the tongue retracted and the strange, wide lips pressed tightly together. “This is serious, darling.”

They strode over to the bedside, heart pounding; though, to their chagrin, for two reasons. Cursing the pulse being echoed in their needy cunt, Nightingale looked Orion over. One half of his eyes fixated on their naked form visible between either side of their open robe while the other stared longingly at his dual endowment.

“Are you in any pain?” Nightingale asked.

“N-no,” Orion said. “It felt good. Really good. More than usual.”

Nightingale nodded, recalling his reassurances that shifting was a full-body pleasure instead of agony. Stretching, swelling, elongating. Hence the large erection he typically sported by the end of it that begged for any and all attention.

Orion had managed to calm himself somewhat and was speaking clearly. Disregarding the clear issue of him prioritizing the need to satisfy his arousal, his mind was still there. He hadn’t been lost to some unknown abomination's will—thank goodness.

“Well, you seem like yourself so far,” Nightingale said, a bit of tension leaving them as curiosity began to brew. They were certain he wouldn’t be hurt from touching and carded a gentle hand into his chest fur. “Any new urges? Aside from cumming in two damn directions at once.”

Their eyes flicked to his cocks, watching as precum pearled at one of the tips and lazily dripped down the thick shaft. It took everything in them not to rush and catch it with their tongue. They tried not to long too much for the taste. Or at least not let that show on their face.

“I don’t want to swallow you up if that’s what you’re asking,” Orion said and, despite themself, Nightingale grinned at him. “Not—not in the eating you kind of way anyway…I….”

His mouth snapped shut. The adorable thing was still under the impression that he wasn’t going to get fucked. But his eyes and straining, leaky cocks did all the begging for him. Denying him started to feel pointlessly cruel; as fun as it was under other circumstances.

This was proving to be no different from Orion’s typical shift. Not violent or dangerous. Just needy. A dog wanting to be good for his master for sweet, little rewards. Nightingale decided then that a touch of caution could be thrown to the wind. They weren’t so different from their lover after all; chasing pleasure before answers—reckless, amorous fools.

Fear abandoned, they had to admit it. This new form deeply excited them. He was beautiful. Such a striking change that begged to be known. A deep, thorough exploration was in order. One for the books indeed.

Orion’s breath hitched as Nightingale disrobed fully in one fluid, graceful motion. They climbed up onto the bed and sprawled belly down across his torso with their legs on either side of him. They pillowed their chin with their hands as they looked up into his face.

“Wh-what are you…?” he asked, bewildered.

Nightingale waggled their hips, rubbing their enlarged clit into thick fur. “I was thinking, given your over-excited state, perhaps this needs to be fucked out of you. Remember that pollen you stumbled into a few months back?”

“Yeah,” Orion breathed. They felt his heart begin to race beneath their hands, excitement from the memory and the confirmation that he was getting what he wanted. “Go for it…keep me tied up though. I don’t—I don’t know—.”

“Shh… of course, love,” Nightingale said. “I want to see what this body can do. Start with that pretty new mouth.”

They rose from Orion’s chest and turned, moving down until they were straddled over his stomach. The mouth opened beneath them with an audibly wet parting of lips. Hot, humid breath came in quick bursts against them as it opened wide; they could have sat fully into it if they had wished. The dark tentacle of a tongue writhed in the slick maw before rising and licking a line over Nightingale’s pussy. Orion shuddered.

“You’re…already soaked,” he said, digging deeper against their folds for the second pass.

Nightingale bit back a moan. “You were indisposed. I had to take matters into my own hand, so to speak.”

Orion groaned in a desperate and desolate tone.

“I know,” Nightingale said sweetly. “So awful of me to cum on my own. Not wrapped around your cock so you can feel my tight, squeezing heat milking you dry. Or buried deep inside you; throbbing, filling you until you’re leaking me.”

Every word seemed to spur Orion into licking Nightingale more fervently. A quick, ceaseless lapping as if they were water and he had been parched for days. His cocks pulsed in heavy, rhythmic tandem before them, spilling clear fluid in rivulets. The scent of him nearly had them drooling. His breath was so sweltering against their ass and cunt that it was akin to melting.

They wanted more.

“Darling,’ they said, drawing out the vowels. “I don’t recall telling you to hold ba—.”

A sharp gasp was punched from Nightingale as Orion shoved his tongue swiftly inside. He reached deeper than he ever had before with this method, twisting and pumping into them. They ground down to meet each thrust of the probing muscle.

There was a shift and a sucking sound within the maw and Nightingale felt a second tongue at their ass. They could no longer suppress a moan as it worked its way in, carefully but greedily. A third wormed into their cunt next to the first and entwined with it. A fourth, fifth, and sixth wrapped lovingly about their thighs, smearing warm saliva.

“Good boy,” Nightingale praised. “Goooood boy.”

Feeling he had earned it—and unable to help themself—, Nightingale reached out and brought their palms to those swollen cocks. They couldn’t fully wrap their hands around either one but they began to pump the throbbing shafts. Orion cried out, hips shaking and lifting as much as his restraints allowed. He dropped heavily onto the mattress as he was stroked. Precum spurted from him, running over Nightingale’s fingers.

“Y-your hands are so soft!” he said; whimpering, lower tongues thrashing inside Nightingale. “And you taste…you ta—fuuuuck. I’m not good. I’m a bad dog. I’m a bad dog! I can’t hold it—I can’t—!”

He came with a wavering cry. Thick, copious cum pumped out of both cocks, painting Nightingale’s chest. It splattered their face; hot, musky, and landing or dripping into their open mouth. They swallowed a half mouthful as their hands relentlessly milked.

Cumming took nothing out of Orion. He breathed heavily around whines, but Nightingale’s holes were still stuffed with wildly thrusting tentacles. They released him and leaned forward until their hands met the mattress between his spread legs. The tip of a seventh tongue curled around their pulsing clit. Their head snapped back with a loud moan as they instinctively began to thrust into it.

“There you go,” they said, practically growling. “Keep that right there.”

Orion’s dicks, full of boundless vitality, were pressed against Nightingale’s cum-covered torso. Their hard, sensitive nipples grazed the weeping heads as they moved. The tentacles squirmed deep inside them. They could feel a warm mix of Orion’s saliva and their slick making a mess of their thighs.

“Perfect, darling,” they moaned. “So perfect for me. Make me cum…make me cum.”

Roiling heat built inside them, pleasure throbbing through their holes out to their clit. With a few final thrusts, they were clenching down on Orion, squirting around his tentacles and into the gaping maw. His tongues paused as if to feel them come apart. He came again with a grunt, his cum hitting the underside of Nightingale’s chin as they panted and shivered.

Before Orion could think about starting again, they stood. The tongues exited them with multiple lewd, wet noises. Slick dripped from Nightingale in their wake. Both holes quivered; spent. But their clit had other plans, twitching insistently. Wanting to be enveloped again.

Nightingale gave a breathless, unsteady chuckle before mentally reaching out to the sigil bound to them. They gazed down, always loving to watch. A, swelling sensation overtook their clit as it lengthened into a thick cock, balls hanging beneath. It pulsed itself to a full erection without the aid of touch.

They took it into their hand, stroking as they looked over their shoulder to catch Orion’s many eyes.

“Objections?” they asked with a grin.

Orion swallowed, his dual endowment still raging. “N-no.”

“Let’s get a better view, then.”

Nightingale dropped off of the bed and, with a few waves of their hands, compelled the magic rings to re-situate their darling werewolf. Orion was placed face-down, his ass in the air. His top set of arms were set reaching out over his head, while the bottom ones connected at the wrists behind his back.

The position revealed that the mantle of eyes extended over his shoulder blades. And Nightingale also watched a line of sharp, deadly spines flare out from the base of his neck to the small of his back. They sidled up behind him where his tail lay draped down.

“Show me that hole,” they said, digging a hand into the fur at his thigh.

Orion obediently raised his tail, leaving it to curl over his back. He sucked in a breath as Nightingale took his large, furry balls into their palm. They teased, watching his cocks leak onto the sheets with every caress and squeeze. The flesh between his balls and hole twitched uncontrollably.

“Nightingale,” he moaned. “Fuck me…please.”

Nightingale hummed and released him. “Wag for it.”

A sweet, little whine sounded in Orion’s throat. His tail gave a twitch before waving through the air. It was soon whipping, his ass moving with it from the sheer eager force. His balls and cocks swung as well in an enticing display.

Nightingale halted his movement without a word, hands lighting on his ass. They spread him open, ready to work his hole with their fingers. But they took pause. They had seen the wetness there and assumed it was precum from his earlier position. But his wildly twitching, swollen-looking hole seemed to be dripping a clear lubricant; like a beast in heat.

There was a scent to him that made Nightingale’s head swim. They felt their cock take up a heavy, demanding throb. Their shaft was burning in their hand as they lined themselves up, a breath shuddering from them as they pressed against the fevered ring of muscle.

Perhaps they could simply just—.

Nightingale carefully breached Orion. He took them with ease and they moaned as they were welcomed by wet, clinging walls. The squeeze was exquisite, tight yet effortlessly accommodating to their shape. A single, slow penetration had Orion wailing with pleasure which compelled Nightingale into fucking him without a second’s thought, eyes wide and heart pounding.

Unbelievable.

Their thrusts were short; despite it all, they still held a distant concern over hurting Orion. They had impetuously shoved themself in after all. But that pulsating heat continued to serve their cock so well, clasping and sucking without resistance. A perfect fuck hole.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Orion chanted, slurred in ecstasy. “It’s never felt this amazing before! Harder…please, harder!”

Nightingale bottomed out with a grunt, pausing as they activated their sigil. There was a surge of heat as their length enlarged to a broad seven inches in Orion’s ass. They grinned at his loud, unsteady moan. Their hips pulled back and rammed them in to the hilt once more.

“That’s it,” they groaned, gripping at Orion’s fur. He whined, his hole pressing in around them, and they began to slam into him. “Good boys get every inch of this cock. Ngh—because they can take it so well. You make me so hard. So wild. Oh, gods…such a good boy!”

Nearly lost in the snap of their own hips, Nightingale almost didn’t notice a strange feeling coming over them. A sensation on their sides just below the ribcage. At first, they thought it might be the sweat pouring off of them and crawling its way downward. But this was different. Like someone had pinched their flesh, pulled, and their body yielded to it far beyond its natural elasticity.

There was no pain. It felt like stretching a muscle—until the moment it escalated to a near-orgasmic pleasure. Nightingale moaned with it and all at once became aware of their ability to move something new. Doing so brought two alien—yet very familiar—appendages into their view; long, dark green tentacles that opened into toothy mouths.

“N-Nightingale?” Orion questioned, the eyes on his back falling onto the new developments. “What’s going—ahhh, fuck.”

It should have frightened Nightingale or at least given them pause. But excitement coursed through them instead. They kept driving themselves into Orion as they fixated with fascination on the tentacles, reason outmatched by the sheer, feral arousal of it all. What would it take for more?

Something in the back of their mind answered. Not with words, but with ideas. Knowledge came to them in an instant and showed Orion as the answer to their heavily aroused query.

They needed more of his cum.

A laugh laced with pleasured noises bubbled from Nightingale. They guided their tentacles to Orion’s drooling cocks and latched on, one in each maw. There was more than enough space in those wet, fleshy sleeves to take him entirely. Orion moaned, long and loud; his face was out of view but it sounded like it came from around a lolling tongue.

“Mmm, you like that?” Nightingale asked.

“Yeeees!” Orion cried, all visible eyes rolling back. “More. More. More. Suck me more!”

Nightingale began to milk him with their tentacles as they relentlessly thrust, pumping at a desperate pace. He throbbed hard in their squeezing confines as precum streamed from him. They could taste it. The saliva at the tentacles’ mouths became profuse, speaking to their eagerness and hunger. Ready to drink him dry.

It didn’t take Orion long to cum this way. His hole clenched as his cocks pulsed with release. The tentacles sucked greedily, not letting slip a single drop of hot, potent cum. Nightingale could feel it travelling through the appendages and into their body.

Give it to me, they chanted internally with a need they could sense wasn’t entirely their own. Give it all to me.

Nightingale kept fucking, plunging deeply into wet, pliant heat. Orion was still hard. He had more to give; they could sense the mutation-driven overproduction of seed taking place inside him. Churning, spurting, primed to burst and sate this madness’ appetite. They would take it all. It was theirs.

Theirs to use; a delicious, addictive means of shucking off the limiting prison that was a human form.

“Let’s feed this together,” they growled, an abyssal tone creeping in with every syllable. “Succumb with me…succumb. Su—cum. Cum. Cum.”

The tentacles drank well with Orion’s frequent orgasms. He was a mess of moans and babbled words; begging for more when he was coherent, wracked by ecstatic shaking. Nightingale’s cock dug for that sensitive spot deep inside him with every thrust, forcing out smaller spurts of cum even when he wasn’t caught in the twitching throes of release.

Nightingale took in his lewd ambrosia, being suddenly struck by the licking tendrils of an otherworldly energy. A heated tingling overtook every inch of their flesh and turned the whole of them into one active pleasure center. Every pounding beat of their heart brought a deep ecstasy, their moans wild as they fucked and swallowed and changed.

A green tinge spread over their skin from their hands, claws sprouting from grasping fingers. Muscle and bone alike swelled and stretched as their body grew. Their large hands were soon able to fully grip Orion’s waist and pull him into their thrusts. The bed creaked threateningly beneath them.

Their skin rippled with emerging scales and a thick mane of fur erupted at their shoulders and upper back. Horns burst from their skull and curled backwards. Facial bones shifted to account for lengthening, sharpening, multiplying teeth and the first of two long tongues that lolled from their jaws as their tailbone pleasurably stretched out into a whip-like, spiny tail. Eyes and mouths opened up where they had no business being.

Nightingale’s head tipped back. “Fuck! Fuuuuuck!”

It was discordant roars as every maw found its voice; tongues lashing, teeth gnashing. More tentacles sprouted from their back and found their way—almost of their own accord—to being pushed in alongside their now-ridged cock in Orion’s hole. They panted and grunted, saliva dripping freely; bearing down on him like the feral, horny beast they now were.

Orion was soft in their sucking tentacles. Though spent, his voice came to them clearly through the haze.

“I need it. I need it…gods, fill me!”

A thick, pulsating knot swelled at the base of Nightingale’s dick and, when the final shift of their form clicked into place, popped in as they came with a warbling howl. Cum poured from them in a rhythmically pumping torrent unlike anything they had ever experienced before. They were locked in, but their hips continued to thrust forward with every throb, rocking Orion forward with their newly acquired superior size.

Nightingale curled over Orion as the pleasure abated; a low, prehistoric-sounding growl rumbling in their heaving chest. The room was suddenly deadly silent. Save for two unsteady breaths and a wet shifting as their connected bodies swayed.

Orion broke it first, shivering beneath them. “Nightingale…are you okay?”

Nightingale could only nod, not yet having caught their breath. They looked down at him, catching his eyes and expecting to find fear or disgust now that the spell of pleasure-chasing had likely faded. But there was awe and a softness in the way the gazing mantle roamed their body. Pure adoration.

He liked this, was Nightingale’s realization. Maybe because he had always been attracted to these things. Or because he was simply looking at his lover with unconditional affection—a loyal dog through and through.

A fierce possessiveness washed over Nightingale. They dismissed Orion’s bindings so they could lay on top of him comfortably, their still-throbbing dick nestled warmly inside. He smelled amazing as they nuzzled their nose into his fur. Mine, they thought, directed at no one. The presence in the back of their mind faded with an air of satisfaction and the planted knowledge that this was permanent; it had passed on what it wanted.

The mixed feelings that brought on lasted a fleeting moment before landing easily on acceptance. Nightingale had always somewhat envied monsters; too much else for people to focus on that the specifics of their gender weren’t often a consideration. It felt right in a way. Comfortable and fitting.

Even as Nightingale settled into the reality of this new body, they were still resolved to find the portal that the being had sprung from. And given this—however exciting—development, they needed to warn their peers as well. Direct visits would be best. To all of them. All who would listen. All with the mind and body to accept It.

Consume. Spawn. Proliferate.

Nightingale’s cock pulsed.

End

Masterlist

[0alanasworld0]

Atay (Hakim Ziyech x reader)

Request: Hi please can you write something for ziyech I missed him and I missed ur writing (it could be something inspired by ziyech making tea w nayef and zouma!)

Warnings: none

“YES!” Hakim exclaims, quickly sitting up as he looks at his phone. That unfortunately brings your tired, cranky morning self up with him and you groan as you lament the fact that you were having a nice, quiet night in until it was rudely interrupted.

“Hakiiiiiiiiiiim!” you whine as you shift yourself so your head is laying on the pillow again. His eyes widen and he quickly turns to look at you, his concern overriding any urge to make fun of your current state.

“Sorry, love.” he says quietly and you huff in contempt.

“What could possibly have caused you to nearly throw me off the bed?!” you ask incredulously with a scowl and he chuckles, flicking your cheek.

“I’ll have you know, I’m not on the lineup!” he cheers, dropping back down to hug you and you can’t help but invite the warmth.

“That’s amazing, love! When does trai- wait what?”

“I’m not playing tomorrow?”

“Is that not a bad thing?” you’re completely baffled by his cheerful tone. These past few weeks, it was this very situation that had been upsetting him beyond heartbreak, he loved to play!

“I’ve got better things to do with my time.” he shrugs, tapping away at his phone with a smile on his face. You narrow your tired eyes, trying to read any signs of upset, even small ones but nothing. His eyes are bright and sparkly, his thumb is twitching in the way that it always does when he gets excited. He’s genuinely happy.

“Hakim…” you repeat yourself, placing a hand on his cheek and you successfully gain his attention.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” he smiles softly at your concern.

“Love, without meaning to sound bitter, this team sucks. There are so many things I could be doing rather than offering myself up as a scapegoat.” he explains.

“What’s brought all this on?” you wonder, a smile appearing on your face and concern melting away.

“When you have every important person in your life telling you the same thing day in and day out, it’s bound to make sense eventually.” he winks and you roll your eyes. He was right, you had all been telling him words to the same effect but none of you believed that he would ever actually take them to heart. But you’re grateful because he deserved to know his worth and not cast it in doubt every time his hard work went unnoticed and unappreciated.

You peer over at his phone out of curiosity and see a familiar name on the screen.

“Oh no…” you smirk, lifting your head to get a better look at his face.

“Okay this is nothing in comparison to my previous ideas.” he reassures you but you remain unconvinced. Free time was a rarity so when he was blessed with it, he just couldn’t help but go all out. He had to find something crazy to do: pottery painting classes, renaissance fairs, escape rooms, you name it. Nothing ever quite beat the balloon ride but he never ceased to find new and outlandish things to do.

“I just think that a day in with a couple of friends will be a worthwhile use of our time.” he shrugs, still looking to your eyes for any protest. He laughs when he sees your somewhat shocked expression. He knew it wasn’t usual behaviour for him but what could he say? He was just feeling a little teamsick and the closest thing he had to that team was a man he saw as a brother.

“It has been a while, would be nice to catch up, I suppose.” you contemplate and you can see his smile growing from the corner of your eye as you look into the distance. Your eyes drift to the frames sitting pretty on top of the dresser. Alongside the many photos of the pair of you on your various excursions lie the team photos. Photos from their field trips around the Qatari malls, the historical sites in Morocco. Of course there were the photos taken after their matches. Their faces all lit up with a mixture of joy and shock and disbelief. Those were his absolute favourites because they captured moments he could never have foreseen at any point in his life before that. He still struggled to believe that it happened.

He’s looking the same way and he immediately starts beating quickly as he relives the memories. He’s zoned out but he comes back to at the sound of his ringtone.

“C’mon! No time to waste!” he claps his hands before leaving the bed, much to your dismay. You groan out, flopping back into the warm sheets, still not ready to move.

“Sweetheart…” he taps your cheek and you roll your eyes, hauling yourself out and shivering at the cold morning air making contact with your skin.

You both hurry to get ready, opting for more comfortable clothes since you were likely spending the night with your friend. It seems that the pair of you aren’t the only ones to be excited because the whole car-ride there, you’ve both been receiving text after text from Nayef asking you what's taking so long.

Hakim doesn’t even have to knock the door before it sings open and the pair of you are engulfed in a bone-crushing hug by the man himself.

“I was starting to think you cancelled on me!” he tuts and Hakim slaps him on the back of the head as Nayef leads you to the living room where you see yet another friend already there and patiently waiting. He looks up from his phone, eyes lighting up at the sight of you and Hakim. He jumps up from his seat, going straight for Hakim for a bear hug that seems to knock the breath right out of your husband.

“It’s been way too long!” Kurt shakes his head and you can’t help but be in awe of the interaction. He simply didn’t get enough of things like this. The crazy adventures were great but sometimes he needed the simpler things that would bring him back down to earth and keep his heart and mind at rest. A reminder that he did have a little bit of back home still with him.

After a couple minutes of silent thinking, Nayef opts to get the dreaded uno cards out which had you a little concerned. You knew that despite being some of the loveliest people on earth that they could get a little… passionate about uno. But you decide to stay silent about it this once because it was also some of the best, cheap entertainment you could get your hands out.

The boys don’t disappoint as barely 5 minutes into the game Kurt has to go and change into a different shirt after your dear husband throws a cup of water over him and Nayef almost breaks the buzzer after being dealt some of the worst cards of all time.

“You know what! I’m really feeling some tea right now! How’s about we turn on a movie and I make you all some?” Hakim suggests, the tension in his voice is still very apparent from the game that really couldn’t have gone any worse for him towards the end.

“Please, as if you know the first thing about Atay!” Nayef laughs and Hakim gasps as he notices you giggling at him. You couldn’t help yourself, his cooking left a lot to be desired.

“Is that a challenge?” Hakim raises an eyebrow, while you and Kurt look on at the scene rolling out in front of you.

“Ha! How could it be a challenge when we know who’s going to win?” Nayef laughs mockingly and with that they’re both stomping over to the kitchen. The rest of you remain still for a second to process whatever’s just gone on. From one friendship-breaking event to another. Hakim stomps back in and he looks at the pair of you as if it's obvious what you’re supposed to do.

“We’re gonna need some judges, aren’t we?” He pushes you both into the kitchen with a shake of his head.

“Please try not to murder each other this time!” you sigh and they both look up with surprise.

“This man is my brother! I would never even think of such a thing!” Nayef gasps, placing a hand on his chest in offence. Hakim gives him a little side hug and you would be more convinced by the display if you hadn’t sat through as many of their tantrums as you had already.

At first, things start off well for both of them. No one spills anything, or scalds their hands. There hasn’t been any bickering over utensils and ingredients courtesy of Nayef always keeping a fresh stock of everything he could possibly need. Even before the competition began, you knew who you were going to pick as your winner. It was very simple for you. You’re content with that choice until you see something out of the corner of your eye. You don’t think you believe it so you quickly look up to what Hakim is doing.

As soon as Nayef and Kurt realise, they too break out into a fit of giggles while Hakim smirks, cool as you like. You think you counted 5 cubes of sugar but it could have easily been more, you feared.

The rest of the tea-making session is without any more heart attacks and runs smoothly, albeit the inevitable little spats between Nayef and Hakim. Apparently having the best spoon was a vital part of the experience and it seemed that neither would let up until they found a bunch more of the same spoon tucked away in the back of the cutlery drawer.

Once they are sure they have everything ready, and after a few more minutes of trash-talk between the competitors, they hurry over with the trays with you and Kurt trailing along excitedly. Hakim always flat-out refused to ever order Atay from the restaurants so it was quite rare that you had it, although you were both extremely fond.

You get comfortable as they begin to pour out the tea, the delicate scent of the mint warming up your senses. You get a little too excited before remembering that neither of them are particularly capable culinary wise and your love had a crippling sweet tooth.

As they both attempt to lift the teapot on the pour, their lack of experience becomes all the more apparent as their aim misses the cups and splashes onto the tray. You supposed that they were at least very enthusiastic about the whole thing.

When they finally both manage to fill two cups each, they attempt to show some class by gently placing the cups in front of you both, bowing their heads before taking their own seats.

You would have been more convinced by the display if you hadn’t seen Hakim and Nayef bicker over spoons or the eventful uno game before that. Nonetheless. You decide not to make a comment as you and Kurt grab your tea cups at the same time.

You take a precautionary sip, careful not to burn your tongue as you sample the drink. You’re pleasantly surprised by the taste. It's the perfect strength to warm your body up and the taste of the mint is refreshing on your tongue but not too overpowering. You easily finish the cup before taking Hakim’s cup. Again, you still know who your winner is but you humour the petty contest anyway. You glance up and you can see that he’s nervous. Only slightly, no one else would notice but you had spent far too much time with him to not be able to read him like a book.

You treat his cup the same as Nayef, one small sip to get a feel of it and it goes about as well as expected. You can barely taste the mint over the overwhelming sweetness, much like his coffee. One sip was more than enough but you recall the nerves on his face and remember the task at hand. You can almost feel your teeth hurting but you power through and drink it with the same, if not more enthusiasm. Its taking everything in your power to hold back a grimace because the sweetness was almost sharp.

You don’t get another chance to look up at Hakim as you’re drinking but you best bet that his are dead set on you. And he can see that you’re struggling in spite of your best efforts which causes a wave of irrational nerves to overtake him. He knew this didn't matter at the end of the day but still.

By the time you’re both done, Hakim keeps his eyes on the ground, twiddling his thumbs while Nayef looks up at both of you with a proud smirk on his face. He was within his rights to feel that way since his tea-making skills far surpassed his cooking but you had other plans, not quite ready to give him that satisfaction.

“… so?” Nayef asks expectedly and Kurt takes the opportunity to give his verdict first.

“Yeah its kind of obvious…” he trails off, looking at you expectedly and you shrug nonchalantly.

You both go to give your answers at the same time. One expected and the other… less so.

“Nayef” “Hakim”

“Wait WHAT?!” Nayef exclaims, Kurt and Hakim equally surprised.

“I like my tea sweeter.” You calmly justify, a small smirk painting your face as you take another sip of Hakim’s concoction.

“You may as well eat a whole sugar cube!” Nayef yells, you definitely don’t regret your decision now. You look up at Hakim to see him quietly laughing at the situation unfolding.

“Seriously? That’s your final verdict?!” Kurt clarifies, equally surprised but less hysterical than Nayef who’s currently burning a hole through your temple with his gaze as you look to Kurt, nodding surely.

“Yep.” You assure, making sure to pop the p to further irritate Nayef who rolls his eyes.

“I guess its a tie then!” Kurt sighs, shrugging his shoulders and Nayef goes to argue his case again but is thankfully interrupted by his temporary housemate.

“MOVING ON…” he announces, grabbing the TV remote and opening up Nayef’s endless film catalogue. Of course, still sulking but Nayef is eventually able to move on and Hakim lifts himself off of his seat to take his place next to you. He throws an arm around your shoulders and you lay your head on his and the chosen film begins to play. You decide it's only fair that you let the sore loser take his pick after the robbery that just occurred. No pushback from Hakim either although you had watched the particular movie so many times that you practically had the screenplay memorised but you refrain from making any comment.

By the time the end credits roll, it's completely dark out and you and Hakim take that as your sign to leave. You say your goodbyes and Nayef delivers a particularly firm handshake to you on your way out. Again, expected and perhaps deserved.

The car ride home is fairly quiet because babysitting 3 man children was quite the exercise and you had almost completely ran out of energy. Ever the gentleman, Hakim takes it upon himself to carry you to the house once he’s parked and he somehow manages to get the door open with you tucked safely and comfortably in his arms. He gently places you onto the bed, pulling you to sit upright so he can get you into your night clothes. He allows his fingers to ghost over your most sensitive parts as he goes about it, enjoying the way it sends a shiver down your spine while you scowl at him.

Once he gets into his own nightwear, he hurries to join you under the covers, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you into your chest which you happily cuddle into. One of his hands plays with your hair while the other draws smooth circles on your back and you can’t help but sigh out in relief and pleasure.

You yelp as you suddenly feel a small pinch at your side.

“Hey! What was that for?” You whine and he rolls his eyes, still unable to bite back his smile.

“You’re a little liar.” He puts simply and you look up at him, confusion apparent on your fsce s you gaze into his deep brown ones.

“You and I both know that that amount of sugar in my drinks is barely palatable for you. Why on earth did you pick me?” He wonders out loud and you laugh.

“Eh, who cares.” You shrug.

“You’re my husband, you’ll always be my winner no matter what.” You struggle to hold back a laugh at your cheesy words and he narrows his eyes at you. Within a second you’ve borh broken into a fit of giggles.

“The look on Nayef’s face was too good to miss, you know that.” You say as you attempt to catch your breath.

“I know but at the cost of how many cavities?” He jokes and you tuck your head back under his chin. He can still feel you laughing against the soft skin of his neck and smiles at the tickling sensation.

The exhaustion does finally take you over completely and you let out one last yawn before muttering a soft “I love you,” before falling asleep on his strong chest.

“I love you more, sugar…” he whispers. Barely giggling at his stupid little joke, being careful not to jostle you around too much and eventually the eventful day hits him too. He falls into a content sleep for the first time in ages, you nestled in his warmth and hopefully having dreams as sweet as his own.

Hello, loves! It’s been a hot minute but I’m finally gonna be rolling out my fics and getting back to working on all your requests. Of course I had to start with Hakim because he’s a favourite amongst everyone and I’ve been stalling on this one for the longest. Thank you all for being so kind and understanding about everything and I hope u enjoy!!!

[mythicamagic]

Xiaolumi Week Day One: Magpie. Chapter One.

Summary: Xiao has been acting strange- bringing back all kinds of pretty things to his room. Jewellery, nick-nacks and fine silks. After seeking out advice for this behaviour, Lumine comes to learn that her adeptus lover is...nesting.

Rated E for eventual smut. Read the whole thing on Ao3 soon: here

AN: For Xiaolumi Week 2024! I wanted to write a new oneshot everyday for it but didn't have the time after my assignments, so I've decided to break down this story into smaller chunks and just post a chapter every day for the ship week.

Todays theme was either First Encounters or First Time - and though this fic will include smut later it won't be for a few chapters, so I picked 'first time' but changed the meaning a little here. Enjoy!

----

Chapter One

Xiao had been acting somewhat…odd, recently.

Not that a little weirdness was a bad thing, Lumine mused. Especially for someone like Xiao, with his sense of duty enforcing strict daily patrols- newness was usually a good and unexpected happiness in his life.

But that didn't make this any less baffling. Lumine sat atop Xiao's bed, or rather, what resembled his bed at Wangshu Inn. During the past week, he'd been changing it from its usual style:

The bedding was now comically fluffed up with comforters and excess pillows like a stowaway sumpter beast was hiding underneath the covers. He'd been adding so many blankets and covers it was any wonder they could both climb into it at all.

That was just the start though. Next, he'd begun adding random things to the walls and rafters, leaving and returning with new hoards each day. Silk scarves and gossamer drapes wrapped around his bed posts. Trinkets he'd usually never care for were abundant. Tiny glass figurines, starconches, ore stones, fresh qingxin flowers and jewellery littered the nightstand and windows. They glittered in the sunlight, casting pretty hues.

During it all, Xiao added everything with quick, agitated movements. He'd occasionally stop and look at his handiwork, before tucking more filling under the bed or adjusting the drapes.

"This Spring cleaning session has been going on for a little while now, hm?" Lumine smiled. She'd tried gently asking about it before, but he always brushed her off.

"Almost done…I think," Xiao muttered distractedly. He didn't look at her, focusing solely on the bed. "No, there’s still something missing…"

Lumine's brows pulled together. She reached out and caught his face in her hands. "Xiao, look at me."

She waited until his murky gaze connected with hers, offering a concerned smile. "I think it's great you're interested in something new like this for the first time. Decorating is a really fun hobby- but you're kind of worrying me. You seem distracted, almost like you’re losing sleep over it. Anything you want to talk about?"

Xiao took a shaky breath. His skin felt hot and clammy under her touch. He reached for her, only to gently grasp her wrists. He kissed her outstretched fingers in parting as he pulled away and created distance between them.

"I'm fine. Don't be concerned."

Lumine frowned.

He took one look at her expression and faltered, clearing his throat.

"That is to say, this is just something I feel like I need to do. I'm not entirely sure why. It's as though there's an itch in the back of my skull," he uttered thinly, gazing at the room again as if he couldn't bear to stop looking at it, searching for something inexplicable. Luminous golden eyes then swung to her unexpectedly- striking her like a lance. Intense. Hungry.

"And I can't add to the room unless you're here. It's not right until you're with me. On our bed."

Her heart skipped a beat and picked up the tempo until it pounded. Xiao was usually so logical. Curt and no nonsense. The only time she glimpsed a more feral nature, befitting of a Yaksha was in the field fighting monsters. This was no fight or flight response though- there was an unfamiliar quality about how he was holding himself: looking at her. All coiled tight, tense muscles at the ready.

Why was he looking at her like that?

Heat rose to her cheeks. It was Lumine's turn to look away and distractedly gaze around the room. “Right. Okay. Well, if that's the case, and you really feel you need to- then sure, keep going! But can I help too?”

“You want to…help me build it?” he rasped, eyes widening.

Build it?

She nodded slowly, not sure what she was agreeing to but wanting to be useful. "Sure, of course. Always happy to lend a hand."

A shudder went through him like he'd been afflicted with electro. Xiao closed his eyes, breathing deeply as his chest heaved. Lumine quickly stood from the bed. “Xiao? Are you alright?”

He held up a palm to signal she stay back, panting softly and bowing his head. Inky dark hair obscured his expression- but his ears betrayed him, holding a faint red tinge.

Lumine felt her own blush return with a vengeance. Had she said something strange?

“I'll…see you later. Just add whatever you want to the room-” was all he said, disappearing shortly after in a plume of dark matter.

[kazimakuwabara]

Set during the Dark tournament, Hiei is surprised that Kuwabara's hair doesn't always look like how he is used to seeing it.

(story under the cut, 700+words)

"Ah!"

Hiei's short-lived, audible gasp, was loud enough to get the other occupants of the room's attention.

Kuwabara, not amused by Hiei's sudden and loud gasp, groaned, "Come on Hiei! My head is killing me!"

Kurama, a little more sympathetic and concerned, studied Hiei's shocked face, "Hiei... Hiei, are you alright?"

When Hiei did not answer, Yusuke leaned over the bed to look at Hiei, and then when there was still no answer, Kuwabara also slid his eyes to Hiei.

Kuwabara squinted at Hiei's expression, "What's eating you, shorty? Seen a ghost?"

Hiei, his face wrestling with his shock, and now anger, managed to finally speak, "Your... your hair..."

Kuwabara squinted further, "My hair?" He pointed at himself, "Mine?"

"What happened to it?" Hiei asked, eyes full of suspicion.

The room was quiet as Kuwabara worked to try and understand what Hiei meant. He glanced at Yusuke, who looked as baffled as him.

But Kurama, his hands now frozen in place, gripping some bandages he'd been wrapping around Kuwabara's head, let out a little chuckle. Kuwabara could not tilt his head enough to look at Kurama, so he glanced at Yusuke, who was staring at Kurama in wonder.

And then Kurama let out another chuckle and with a shakey voice, he asked Hiei, "Did you think Kuwabara's hairstyle was how Kuwabara's hair looked... all the time?"

All eyes snapped to Hiei's stunned, and angry face, slowly growing darker as his friends stared at him. Finally, Hiei muttered, "...Yes?"

A beat of silence... and then all of them were howling. Kuwabara was grateful Kurama was propping him up, he was laughing so hard. Yusuke buried his face in his hands and wheezed, "Oh my God, Dude!"

"Shut up!" Hiei snapped, his eyes wide, and face glowing red.

"No... no, Hiei!" Kurama wheezed, choking on his laughter, his voice full of sympathy, "Kuwabara's hair is not... It's not naturally..."

"Lookin' like a bread roll!" Yusuke snorted.

"Hey!" Kuwabara snapped, but everyone was howling again.

And while Hiei turned his face away, they could all tell that he was laughing too.

When the room settled down, everyone wheezing and wincing from their too hard laughter, a peace settled around the group. A peace none of them had fully felt since entering this stupid Dark Tournament. Feeling charitable, Kuwabara admitted, "Well, I don't think I've ever had my hair down around you, Hiei. But just like you, I use gel in my hair."

There was a beat of silence.

Kurama snickered again.

And then grinning a little, looking somewhat vindicated, Hiei informed Kuwabara, "I don't use gel. My hair is just like this."

There was another beat of silence.

Another snicker from Kurama, and then Yusuke.

And then it was Kuwabara's turn to give off a loud, shocked gasp, "WHAT?!"

[randomwriteronline]

It was hard not to fight, sometimes.

It was much harder when Ingo was busy with something else, like apparently training a bunch of Snorunts to walk in a single line and complimenting the perfomance of each one of them with a treat.

It was nearly downright impossible when Melli decided to throw snow at Gaeric for no reason.

The first time, he'd glared at the leaner man and the bastard had turned away immediately as if he hadn't done anything, arms folded and foot dangling idly; still, it had been just a little bit of snow, so an attempt was made at keeping the peace and pretending nothing had happened.

The second time he had been hit by a somewhat proper ball, or at least by a not indifferent amount of frozen water in a vaguely spherical shape.

The third one had smacked him straight in the face, but he'd remained still as stone.

There had been no fourth one, because Gaeric snapped his head to the side so suddenly that Melli nearly yipped and in the jolt that almost had him jumping into the air the snowball he was holding ended up falling back into the white coat made from its brethren.

"Stop that," Avalugg's warden hissed through his own teeth.

His Diamond counterpart replied by angrily showing him his tongue: "Why? Getting cold?"

"More like you're getting on my nerves."

"Oh, please," the other rolled his eyes: "It'll just evaporate off of you."

"Excuse me?"

"What, isn't you blood always boiling? Or are you so insecure of your charm that you need to be shirtless all the time?"

Gaeric did not dignify him with a response.

He wordlessly turned away and began gathering a few large armfuls of snow, bunching it all into some kind of shapeless mound a little further away from himself. Melli grew terribly bored of looking at him do something completely and utterly senseless for no reason at all after approximately two minutes at best, shifting his attention back onto their partner - who was now busy teaching the Snorunts some other trick.

He was as such extremely spooked when he felt something clamp both sides of his waist.

His body gave a violent cringe, both legs leaving the ground to kick as far into the air in front of him as possible as a strangled shrieked barely managed to leave his mouth. He did not fall down to the cold wet ground due to the iron grip holding him aloft effortlessly - which became much less reassuring when he was then lifted horizontally into the air, swung him across it, and finally landed him straight in the previously placed heap of snow with a muted 'plomf', lodging him into the white mound so thoroughly that he wasn't even sure he could have moved.

He looked up with an affronted gaze; Gaeric replied with a wide, plain smirk, eyes narrowed in a satisfied expression as he took in the sight of his humiliated rival.

"Did something happen?" a voice that was very obviously neither of theirs reached them.

Evidently the Diamond's half baked yelp had frightened away the Snorunts, as they were scampering off down the side of the mountain, while also attracting Ingo's somewhat concerned attention. His white head, distinguishable from the rest of the environment mostly thanks to his black hat, was tilted towards them in a state of mild alert.

Melli opened his mouth to tell on the other warden, but was beaten to the punch: "Nothing to be worried about!" that stupidly strong fiend reassured their boyfriend, "Melli and I were just playing around."

"I heard him yell!" Ingo replied.

"Oh, I just threw him in some snow. He asked me to! He wanted a demonstration!"

"Ah!" why did he sound so relieved? Melli was too baffled by the fact that Gaeric had told the truth only to cover it up in one fell swoop to properly rebuke or realize that Ingo was running up to meet them. "I'd like to give one as well, if he'd allow me!"

Still half stuck in the snow and only vaguely aware of what was being told to him, Electrode's warden gave a sort of absent-minded affirmative noise.

He was then very surprised when his beloved ducked his head, rushed to his second boyfriend, and slammed his shoulder into his stomach to hoist him up in the air with an ease that genuinely terrified his fellow clansman for a second.

There was a moment of pause, in which the apparently frail man looked around as though searching for something specific.

Finally locating a safe amount to snow, he then launched Gaeric into it.

Face first.

Melli laughed so hard he thought half the mountain would come down.

Ingo, immensely proud of himself, gifted him one of his singularly shaped smiles that looked like incredibly misshapen frowns.

Still laying face down in the snow, Gaeric was struggling to be absolutely furious about the Diamond making fun of him amidst the intense, weirdly enamored fluster of having been picked up and thrown like a bag of potatoes.

[01solarsmiles]

[ 3 ] moonlight dancing

synopsis: you go for some fresh air

genre: magic, faerie!au, mark is mortal

wordcount: about 500 words

tags: @kiri-ah

The week following your first encounter with Mark was a tumultuous one. The initial shock and discomfort you felt at his presence had not diminished; instead, it festered like an open wound. Every day brought new challenges and moments that tested your patience.

At the heart of your frustration was the realization that Mark was not like the other fae students. He was, after all, a human, and his actions and reactions were a constant source of bewilderment. While the fae moved gracefully and spoke in riddles, Mark stumbled and bumbled his way through every task and conversation.

You found yourself assigned the unenviable role of Mark's guide, a responsibility you had begrudgingly accepted. Each morning, you met him at the appointed spot, where Chaeyoung eagerly awaited his arrival. She seemed determined to be his friend, a sentiment that both baffled and annoyed you.

Mark's attire remained a sore point for you. While the fae wore exquisite, ethereal garments that shimmered with magic, Mark stubbornly clung to his mundane human clothes. He claimed they were more comfortable, but to your eyes, they were a glaring reminder of his otherness.

One particularly sunny morning, you decided to address the issue. "Mark," you began, your voice tinged with irritation, "you really should consider wearing fae attire. It's not only a matter of tradition but also a matter of safety. The magic in our clothing protects us from certain dangers in this realm."

Mark blinked at you, his expression one of genuine confusion. "Oh, I didn't know. I thought these clothes were just fine. But if it's a safety thing, I guess I should give it a try."

You nodded, somewhat mollified by his willingness to comply. But your exasperation returned in full force when he attempted to change into fae attire right then and there, in the middle of the courtyard. Fae clothing was not donned so casually, and you hurriedly averted your eyes, scolding him for his lack of decorum.

As the days passed, you tried to teach Mark the intricacies of fae culture and etiquette. You introduced him to the delicate art of flower language, explaining that the fae often used blooms to convey unspoken sentiments. Mark, however, struggled to remember even the most basic meanings. His attempts at using flowers for communication were met with unintended hilarity rather than the intended grace.

One evening, you attended a gathering in the faerie court, where all the students mingled and danced under the silver moonlight. It was a tradition that dated back centuries, and the elegance of the event was a stark contrast to Mark's clumsy movements.

As you watched him fumble through a dance with Chaeyoung, your frustration reached its peak. You excused yourself and retreated to the garden, seeking solace among the moonflowers. Their pale, otherworldly beauty had always comforted you, but tonight, even they couldn't soothe your troubled thoughts.

Mark found you there, out of breath and flushed from his dance. He seemed genuinely concerned. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You turned away, not wanting him to see your vulnerability. "I'm fine. Just needed some fresh air."

But Mark didn't give up so easily. He sat beside you, his presence oddly comforting despite your earlier irritation. "I know I'm not like the others here," he began, "but I'm trying my best to fit in. I don't want to cause trouble."

His words struck a chord within you, and you finally turned to look at him. His earnest expression revealed the sincerity of his intentions. For the first time, you saw Mark not as a burden but as someone genuinely striving to belong.

Maybe, you thought, it was time to let go of your resentment and give him a chance. After all, Mark was a newcomer in a world that was as strange to him as he was to it. And perhaps, in time, he would prove to be more than just a source of frustration.

[tinydappledleaf]

Title: Stay

Chapter: 1/6

Pairing: Ezra x f!Reader, Ezra x you (Reader is addressed by 'you' or nickname)

Rating: 18+, smut in chapter 6

Content: Situationship to romance, soft Ezra, intimacy, loss of limb (non-explicit), canon compliant

Summary: When you've almost given up waiting for him, a certain prospector returns to the Pug to call in a favor...

Ao3: complete fic

chapter II 》

Chapter I

Each night you scale the building, let yourself fall flat onto its roof of corrugated sheets, and stare skywards, eyes searching for the pale red dot that is Bakhroma. The targeted date of his return has come and passed, many cycles prior, and you've long since abandoned counting.

You will yourself to believe that he's somewhere out there and, very much like you, gazing into the endless night and searching for the star that marks your home.

It’s a nice thought. A consoling mirage. One that keeps you going with each new rise of daylight.

Deep down, however, you know it’s nonsense. It feels like he's gone. One way or another.

The more the surprise it is, when his shadow falls into your workspace, his somewhat warped but still familiar frame filling the space of your doorway. Your vagrant friend.

"Hey Patches," says Ezra, wearing a rare expression of guilt, thinly veiled by the forced smile plastered across weathered features, "I need to call in a favor."

*

That was three cycles prior. Now, Ezra is laying on your couch on his back. A damp rag obscures his closed eyes from your view and adds moisture to his slicked back fringe. You're still baffled that you managed to get him there. In your stupor you nearly stumbled over a toolbox as he collapsed right into your workshop without further warning.

With the aid of his mysterious shadow - Cee, you are aware now - you had heaved him up the stairs, cleared away the clutter, and maneuvered his limp body onto the cushioned sofa.

He hasn't moved much since. Neither has the silent teenage girl, that guards his sleeping form like a gargoyle, perching on a chair beside his blanket-covered feet. She isn't much of a talker, that much you know. She answers when spoken to, clipped and vaguely, but otherwise keeps to herself.

Most of the time, her nose is buried into a tiny notebook, in which she furiously scribbles away. You’re curious about her writing, but if you asked, you're certain her reply would leave you none the wiser. If she even offered one at all. She radiates a fierce wariness towards you that speaks of horrid encounters and a stormy past. A kid of the Frontiers, you infer. Poor thing.

Only occasionally she ditches her book to raise her gaze. At a twitch of Ezra's body or a quiet murmur. Any sign of consciousness draws her attention - just for her to drop back into the chair dejected at each false alarm. He doesn’t wake. Not properly, at any rate.

By now you've helped him to the bathroom twice, but even then, he'd run on autopilot, disconcertingly silent and focused on each shaky step ahead. It scares you, his eerie and unfamiliar silence, and more than once, you've questioned if this is your fever dream, rather than his - wishing him back desperate enough to conjure up the vexing scenario you find yourself in. A glimmer of hope, though tightly wrapped in layers woven from threads of your nightmares.

But it’s not. He’s here, in your home, after having vanished on you for seasons. As surreal as it appears.

"He's gonna be okay... right?"

It takes you a second to register the question's essence, surprised by Cee's first direct approach, ensuing hours of nearly wordless co-existence. She's watching you from her spot by the couch and there's fatigue in her eyes. And concern.

You lay down your work, tools neatly aligned on an otherwise cluttered desktop, and leave it behind to step closer to her and your sleeping friend. Wiping both hands on your overall, you crouch beside Ezra's body, gaze grazing his bandaged shoulder. It still rattles you, the sight of his missing limb, but the initial panicked lurch of your stomach has long since settled. He's still breathing.

Given you had been convinced you'd never see him, never hear his winding speech and endearing drawl again, you're nothing but grateful for his presence.

"I don't know," you answer and the honesty stings as the words leave your mouth.

You don't dare glance at the girl, guessing it scares her just as much.

Reaching out, you tug the rag away from Ezra’s forehead and gently wipe the dampness off his skin. He's sweating, still running a searing fever. But you try to convince yourself he's gained some color to his cheeks. A hint of life. It's a good sign, right? That he's no longer pale as death herself.

"I choose to believe he's going to be alright," you add as you brush a few stray strands of dark hair from his forehead, briefly stroking the odd patch of bright blonde with your thumb. It no longer stands out lonely against the mass of dark hair. There's a hint of grey smattered along both sides of his temples. For now, it remains hidden, swallowed by the mass of dark locks, only visible up close. A detail you'll cherish. One that you might reserve for the occasional banter that you promise yourself for the future. He will be alright; you again assure yourself.

Once more you rinse the towel in a bowl of cold water, wring it out and replace it on his brow.

"Hmm," says Cee.

Then silence falls again.

*

Time drags, but you're occupied enough to get through the cycle. Of course, there's taking care of Ezra. Cee has opened up enough to you, to agree on taking turns. When its yours, you take her place and watch, dutifully, over your shared patient and friend. At first, she rarely leaves the room, sticks around to observe quietly. Makes sure you can be trusted.

But with each passing rotation of your shared watch, she slowly begins to use her time off more easily. By this time, she's taken a shower. Even left the flat to do some exploring all by herself. You’re in no place to order her around or confine her to your living space. So, you leave her be.

She appears to value the respect you show for her privacy, rewards you with a few more words, more detail on her person. You still know next to nothing about her encounter with Ezra or how she came to be his travel companion.

But you learned that she trusts him. That she cares for his wellbeing. As he does care for hers.

You feel like there's something she tries to repay. Some unspoken debt. But again, you don't pry.

When it’s her turn, you work. You've closed the repair shop downstairs soon after your unexpected visitor had fallen right through your door, quite literally. But a pile of previous orders still remains to be handled. You've relocated your workspace, or at least most of it, into your already cramped up living quarters.

With Cee around for help it’s not strictly necessary, you know that. But it calms your nerves and helps your concentration to be within the same four walls as your fever-stricken friend.

Besides, there's some tasks, that Cee rather hands off to you, as long as you're available. She changes bandages, offers him water from drenched towels, swaps and airs the blankets... but trips to the bathroom or administering medication are your 'field of expertise'. She calls you, you step in. It’s a silent agreement.

You tighten a fickle screw inside an ankle joint, as you hear your name for the third time since morning. Ready to abandon your work, you turn, but it’s not your help that Cee seeks, but conversation.

"For how long have you known him?"

Surprised by her unexpectedly personal question, you hum in thought and return to your work as you sort through memories.

"A decade? A bit longer, probably."

She nods in acknowledgement and seems to search for something to say, but remains silent, uncertain. You pick up the hint - or maybe it’s just your own desire to banish the lingering quiet.

"We met on my first job. Had no shop yet, was out there in the void as a mechanic for hire. Little older than you are now. About 19, I think?"

The memories come flooding in. Of endless freighter travels, empty pockets and wrong crowds.

"He kinda saved me. Fringelings don't exactly care much for anyone but themselves. Fledgelings 're easy prey. I had no idea what to expect and a tad too much confidence.”

You halt your story to solder a fiddly spot. Tongue between your teeth, you manage to get the unruly wire back into place. Satisfied, you speak on.

“Ez already had some reputation, back then. Was a bit longer around than me. Don't know if it was sheer coincidence or pity, but he picked the right time and place to step in and chew my ear off. Shooed an awfully nasty guy away with it."

From the corner of your eye you catch the girl scowl and grimace back to her in empathy. Her reaction speaks volumes.

"I stuck with him, after that,” you continue, “Let him show me the ropes and listened in return. We owe each other a lot. Kinda lost count who's turn it actually is to call in a favor. Not that I could ever turn him down."

That sparks a smirk and the tiniest bit of relieve rolls over you. To see anything else but a frown on Cee’s youthful face is progress. At least in means of trust and communication. Loosely you nod in your mutual friend's direction.

"He's a scoundrel, that one, I'm sure you know as much. But there's lots of good inside. Just have to dig a little."

"Oh, how it soothes my soul to hear you praisin’ me so very nicely. Keep goin'."

The hoarse murmur startles you both. Within the fraction of a tick, you're on your feet and beside the couch. So is Cee.

Its sole occupant cracks one weary eye open and the twitch of a wicked smile flutters across his face.

Your eyes sting, as you take him in. Still sweaty and flushed with fever, he blinks languidly and licks across dry lips. The effort it takes him to stay conscious is apparent, manifests in the sluggish loll of his head.

You still grapple for something to say - a witty retort. An exclamation of relief. Anything. But nothing comes out.

"Thank Kevva, you're not dead," mutters Cee into your silence and earns a weak chuckle from Ezra. "'m not quite ready to turn up my toes to the daisies, little bird. Not after all the effort you put into savin' me."

You want to whack him, really. For scaring you. And her. For taking so long. For making you believe he is, in fact, dead. Instead, you laugh, short and relieved and watch him break into another smile. This one is warm and honest, if exhausted.

"You better stick to that, hear me?"

He frowns, gives a curt nod and tries to focus on you both, but fails. His eyes droop closed again and he breathes deep, remainders of dust rattling faintly.

"Promise," he murmurs. Then he's out cold again, face slack bar a hazy smile.

"Idiot," says Cee and she's definitely right about it.

[colderdrafts]

8: A late night walk

The Great Assembly, gender neutral reader x monster (male naga). Sfw. Previous Next

You eat an early dinner (actually managing to convince Amren to COOK his food before eating it) and pull on your now only slightly damp clothes.

You grimace. Hopefully, they’ll dry a bit more as your body heat does its thing.

The sun hadn’t completely set yet when you went out, though it’s not long before you have to pull out your flashlight to know where to place your feet without slipping. The night air is cold, and you mentally berate yourself to allow Amren once again bringing you along for his wacky ideas.

It’s like with Irwin, you realize, constantly being pulled in several directions at once for the next shenanigan - the only difference this time being it's not funny at all and includes slightly more potential for bodily harm.

The sounds of the night isn’t helping your confidence, and you look up and around at every crack and noise.

“You’re like a deer in headlights,” Amren comments, slightly amused.

You glare at him. “What the hell did you expect? I can’t believe I let you drag me out here.”

“You’re walking on your own. As far as I’m concerned, you came at your own volition.”

You ignore him, and turn your light to the source of some brush rustling nearby.

Amren sighs exasperated. “It’s a deer.”

“And how would I know that?” you grunt. “I don’t have a magic detect-animals tongue to flicker around. What I have currently is a flashlight. You bet your ass I’m going to investigate every single thing out here. If it’s annoying, it’s your own fault.”

You can’t tell in the dark, but you can almost hear how he is once again irritably rolling his eyes.

“Squirrel,” he says, when something in the branches above move. “Mice in the brush in front of us. Bird on your right. The deer from earlier is running away.”

You look up at him as he’s looking around and tasting the air as he lists off anything he happens to note.

“Molerat. More birds in the shrubbery.”

“What are you doing?” you ask, even though you do have a feeling you know.

“Have a glimpse of my world,” he says. “Did you honestly think we’d be out and about right now if I wasn’t sure the boarbeast had left for good?”

You look at him for a bit. “You’re not just messing with me? You can actually tell all of those animals are around?”

“Figure it out,” he grumbles.

There’s not much to figure out. If he’s actually trying to do something sort of nice in reassuring you, you shouldn’t bark at him about it.

“Is that just a naga thing, or did you have to practice?” you ask.

“Terrible student,” he sighs. “And you still haven’t answered my question from earlier.”

“I’ll answer yours to the best of my ability if you answer this one.”

“You first.”

“No.”

He gives you a stubborn sideways glare. “Fine. It’s both. We’re just good at recognizing all sorts of scents. Though I had to train to learn to follow a specific one to a location – but it’s useful for hunting.”

“Wait, hunting? So that’s why you know these mountains?”

He nods. “Been here a lot.”

“Huh. You weren’t kidding when you said ‘carnivore’.”

He snorts. “In case it wasn’t obvious. I can eat bread and stuff. I just don’t like it.”

“You don’t like bread?” you gape, incredulous. The nerve. The actual mockery. How can someone not like bread?

“You don’t like raw meat?” he copies you.

“If I ate it I’d get. So sick.”

“And there you have it. Now. Your turn.”

He looks at you expectantly. You sigh. Explaining the whole ordeal of body issues is somewhat of a difficult topic to tackle. You try your best to cover the basis of bodily dysphoria and the many ways it can present itself.

Amren listens intently to your description, a somewhat concerned expression on his face. When you finish, he says: “That explains your modesty-thing."

"Oh, no that's different - for most of us it's like- it's rude? And uncomfortable to show yourself like that. Unless everyone who can see you, and you yourself, is okay with it."

He looks utterly baffled. "I don't understand."

"It's kinda hard to explain," you finish.

He doesn't press the issue.

“What do you hunt?” you ask after a beat, mainly to change the uncomfortable subject.

“Whatever is around,” he replies. “Though I prefer deer, they’re easier to wrangle and one alone will last me about two weeks.”

“’Wrangle’?” you inquire.

His taps the side of your foot with the tip of his tail.

Ah.

You guess it’s pretty regular in the mon world to take down something like deer with your bare whatever-nature-gave-you. A mental image of Amren crushing the life out of a defenseless deer with his tail intrudes your mind, and you quickly file it somewhere under lock and key in your short term memory. You walk through the night, your clothes thankfully dry enough now to actually help keep you warm.

The quiet walk in the night gives you space to think back on Irwin and Elise, and wonder how they’re doing with all this - and more importantly if they actually had a run-in with the northern pack of boarbeasts. You’ve only seen one, and that was more than enough.

Why on earth would you be sent out into dangerous territory on a working conference? And why send you out two-and-two? Wouldn’t groups of four or more be more beneficial, if the whole point was to create some sort of cheesy bonding experience? Clovers are rare, sure, but then choose a different price – people would probably still be happy competing for a hotel stay or something.

If you had Irwin and Elise with you here, or maybe even Mira as well, this whole trip would have been so different. You’d be four on one, and actually have gone north, and you wouldn’t be out here feeling somewhat useless, stumbling around in the dark.

On the other hand, you probably wouldn’t have gotten to know Amren at least a little bit better. He’s still a living brick wall to get through, though you sense there are cracks in the cement forming. At least very small ones, since he’s somewhat actively engaging with you now.

You glance at him and wonder what spurred you to even start the process of socializing with him. Any sane person would probably have taken his hostile behavior for what it was, and not made any effort whatsoever. He sure tried to make it very clear he wanted to be left by himself. To be honest, if Irwin hadn’t pulled Amren’s name from the hat, and you weren’t forced to be out here alone with him, you’d probably have listened to him.

But here you are, and at least he’s shown he doesn't want you dead. Progress!

“What are you thinking?” Amren suddenly asks, taking you out of your thoughts.

You frown. “I’m wondering how things would have been different if Irwin hadn’t pulled your name from the hat,” you reply. Might as well be honest. “And then I’m worried about him, Elise and Mira.”

Amren thinks for a minute, tasting the air.

“Do you wish your partner had pulled someone else?” he asks.

You grin. “We didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, so in the start I was kinda grumpy about it. I’ve accepted my fate by now, though.”

Amren snorts, but stays silent to let you continue.

“And don’t get me wrong. You’re still a major pain in the ass. But I guess you are practical with all this survival stuff. If I’d been here with Irwin, we’d probably both be dead by now.”

“Your partner doesn’t seem like the most responsible type,” Amren agrees. “I’m still surprised you went out of your way for him like that.”

“Come on, this again? Really, you’re starting to sound like my manager. I would ask if you wish he’d pulled someone else so you could get a cohort who’s actually useful,” you say, looking at him.

He looks somewhat puzzled.

“- but since you hate everyone, I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

“I don’t ‘hate’ everyone, and who told you it didn’t matter?” He smirks. “If I’d gone with Elise instead of you, everything would have gone much easier.”

You scoff and lightly punch his shoulder. “Asshole.”

“Slowpoke.”

“Bastard.”

“Tiny.”

“Oversized serpent.”

He nods at you. “Correct."

“Well, if I’m so tiny, it’s a good thing Mira was around to help me up after you snapped at me when we first met.”

He ignores your attempt at guilt-tripping. “You keep mentioning ‘Mira’, but I don’t recognize her name. What department is she from?”

“Does it matter?”

“I work security. Elise and I know who’s attending the conference,” he shrugs. “It bothers me I don’t remember seeing her name on the list.”

“She’s with the cleaning staff,” you offer his memory.

Amren frowns. “Cleaning? The cleaning staff isn’t attending this conference. They get their own trip later in the year in the holiday season.”

Now it’s your turn to frown. Mira definitely said ‘cleaning staff’, didn’t she? Maybe you misunderstood? “She came here alone. Said she was the only one they could spare.”

Amren flicks his tongue. “Maybe she was on a separate list then. Odd they’d send her alone, though.”

“Or,” you offer nonchalantly, “could it be possible you forgot her name?”

He looks at you grumpily, and doesn’t reply.

You continue through the dark forest and, according to Amren, you manage to make up for some lost time. The forest has been mostly quiet, save for a few noises from the nocturnal part of the animal kingdom and the wind howling through the trees. The moon shines down between the branches, and though it’s dark, the starry night is beautiful.

You’re however exhausted and cold at this point, and you catch Amren every so often also suppressing a yawn. One time he fails, and you get a full view of his long row of small, but needle sharp, teeth.

“You don’t have fangs,” you note.

Amren stares at you puzzled, mid-yawn, as very clearly he does. “What?”

“I mean like. The two long ones in front,” you elaborate.

You can’t tell if you’ve offended him somehow from his expression, and you’re about to mumble an apology when he beats you to it.

“I don’t have venom,” he explains. “Don’t need them. You’re thinking of another type of naga. I’m a constrictor, not a viper.”

“Huh,” you say, and grin to yourself. “I’m still confused about something, though.”

“What?”

“How did you get the venomous attitude, then?”

You laugh at you own joke as Amren looks very unimpressed.

“You’re horrendous,” he exhales, rubbing his face.

“I’m tired,” you correct him. “Which is your fault.”

“Being tired is nowhere near an excuse for your behavior,” he grunts.

“Sure it is. A tired human is a messy human,” you state as-a-matter-of-factly. “But seriously, we should probably camp soon and get some sleep. It’s like 2am, and you honestly don’t look so fly either.”

You shine your light in his face for a better look, though he actually hisses at the light and covers his eyes.

“Ow, Tiny, not directly in the face!” he snarls, harshly pushing your flashlight down.

“Oh hush you big baby,” you pull the flashlight out of his hands and wave him off, but keep the light pointed to the floor.

You look around.

“There’s a clearing over there. Should we make camp?”

A little while later you’ve both set up your tents and crept in to settle for the night. Despite your eyes being so heavy, you find it difficult falling asleep. Today’s events has grown nervous strings through your core, gripping tight. The looming anxiety of you actually being in danger won’t leave your gut. You try and logic your way out of it, because nothing really happened and you are by all accounts, safe, but it doesn't seem to work.

You hear Amren moving around in his tent again, and berate yourself for the sense of security the sound gives you. It’s not that you exactly feel completely safe just because he’s in your proximity, but it somehow feels.. safer.

Though you’d never tell him that. You don't think you'd be able to reach his face in time to punch off the smug expression he would make.

The wind is howling outside your tent. You stare out in the darkness, just listening for a bit, and waiting for sleep to take you. You’re about to drift off when Amren suddenly hits against the plastic wall of his tent and it makes a sharp squealing noise, immediately startling you back to full awareness.

You groan in annoyance.

“I was this close to falling asleep,” you complain at him.

If he heard you, he ignores you.

You sigh. You momentarily wonder if there’s any connection out here. Since you're up now anyway, might as well check. You pull up your phone, turning it on, wincing as the sharp light from the screen hits your eyes as it’s booting up.

You wait for a few seconds for everything to start, and smile slightly when you spot you actually have bars in this location. Then, your phone starts chiming rapidly.

You swear and cover the speaker as much as you can as it blares multiple times with text messages and notification sounds.

“You were saying?” Amren hisses from his tent.

“You woke me first,” you hiss back.

Your phone finally calms down, and you dare peek at what caused the calamity.

Your stomach drops.

You have 13 unread messages and 6 missed calls.

They’re all from Irwin.

[sharkface]

see i thought personally that it was good for them to finally address wash's mental health issues and ptsd! its always been kind of on the backburner, i think it was nice to see some emotional maturity in the group for once and a plot that wasnt about bland space wars/military stuff

I have got to respectfully disagree. Not only do I think they did an extremely terrible job handling the subject matter in the first place in pretty much every way they could have, it's also just like. Not remotely tonally coherent with the rest of the show. RVB's emotional development has always been filtered through the lens of these characters all being military men who think washing your ass makes you gay, like, even when they aren't being outright emotionally immature, they only really express affection or concern in the awkward way that like, someone's somewhat distant ambiguously conservative dad would. One of the most emotional conversations between two men in the show prior to this includes one character telling another about getting his balls stuck in a grappling hook lol.

I also think to suggest that significant emotional maturing was done in the cast is also to ignore the extreme backpedaling they did wrt to existing development. Like, seasons 11-13 were in large part about Tucker emotionally maturing and getting over his personal issues in order to become a leader- Notably with major help from General Kimball but I'm not gonna claim I think RT respects its female characters in any capacity, lol- to a group of people at imminent threat of straight up genocide but for some reason in season 15 he's just back to being a cringy misogynist who only cares about getting laid.

Also not to like be a cunt or anything but I'm kind of baffled by the assertion that RVB is better when it isn't about shitty dudes being in the space military because that is. Always what it was about? And the seasons you're talking about are probably the only seasons where they didn't focus primarily on that. I dunno you can like what you want but it just seems kind of wild to say that a show about a bunch of terrible assholes in the Halo military is better when it isn't about that.

[sunny6677]

Spooky Month: The Dating Sim

Part 11

(I'm mainly just doing this because it's fun to watch, but this is basically a spooky month interactive thing/poll which is kinda like a dating sim. Of course, only the adult characters can be your love interests. So do take that in mind.)

(Btw, the two people in masks are the robbers, just clairfying.)

————

In that very moment, you decided to try and grab it before it would hit the ground.

You began to run towards it, ignoring all other movements surrounding you. You had one thing to do: Grab the donut. You ran and ran as it continued to descend slowly to the floor. It was mere seconds from hitting the sidewalk! It was about to hit the sidewalk and be dirtied up!

In one last attempt to grab it, you contorted your body downwards. And then.. you felt the soft dough of the donut against your fingers. You had grabbed it! You managed to save it at the last second! But.. you could feel the pain of the concrete that had scraped against your skin. You let out a small groan of pain, still holding the saved donut in your hand. You most likely just humiliated yourself in front of two strangers you didn't even know. Great..

You could still feel the gaze of the two men upon you. You continued to let out small groans of pain. You then heard one of them speak. A deep and gruff voice then slipped out of the one who had the cigarette hanging from his mouth. "Holy shit—are you alright?!...". He seemed to be asking this in a way that sounded both concerned, and judging by the furrow of his brows, somewhat baffled.

You croaked out that you were. But judging by the pain in your tone, it was clear you weren't.

"Ho—Hold on. Let me help you.." The taller one said. You could then hear the light footsteps of the taller one approaching. He then took your hand slowly, and slipped another around your upper back. He slowly supported you to your feet so you could stand. "Are you sure you're alright?" The taller one inquired.

You nodded in response. And then held out your hand, trying to give the donut to him.

He slowly took the donut from you, saying, "Uh.. thanks. But.. why did you do that? Were you trying to get somewhere or something?"

You explained hesitantly that you happened to see the donut falling to the ground, and that you intended on grabbing it before it could, but it was already near the ground by the time you managed to grab it.

You still groaned in pain. The taller one slowly took his hands off you, arching a brow. "Well.. thanks again. But.. you didn't have to do that, you know?".

You only nodded, a little embarrassed. You said that you knew.

The shorter one with the cigarette only sighed, "Listen, you can't just try and help with everything, okay? You fuckin' fell to the ground because you were tryin' to grab that thing."

You nodded in shame. You felt a little humiliated, since you had just embarrassed yourself like that in front of two cops. And the fact that they were both lightly scolding you didn't make it any better.

The taller one then looked at you, giving you a somewhat sympathetic expression. "Well.. hey, don't worry. Just don't do it again, okay? You don't really need to jump to help with everything."

You nodded again, still a little in shame.

The taller man then looked off to the side, and blinked, as if seeing something. His eyes widened, a thought clearly occurring in his mind. He opened his mouth to speak, though before he could, the shorter one spoke again. "Hey, did you happen to see two men in masks comin' down here?"

You arched a brow, puzzled. You shook your head, and said that you were too busy exploring some parts of the town and meeting different people to really notice any people in masks.

"Uh..okay? Why were you explorin' the town?" The shorter one asked.

You explained in reply that you were new here and were just taking a look around.

The shorter one paused for a moment, before sighing. "Well.. alright. Just let us know if you see anything, okay? I'm the sheriff 'round here, and he's the deputy, so if anything happens, you come straight to us."

You nodded in response once more, giving a polite smile. You internally noted that maybe the next time you saw all the people you had met today, you could give them a little warning about the apparent people in masks.

You then began to slowly turn around, preparing to leave. Though you couldn't help but remain curious about the two officers in question you had just met.

You decided to at least give a farewell before you left, thanking them for telling you about the two people in masks.

In reply, the shorter one mumbled something that sounded like, "Yeah.. no problem..". But the taller on who held onto his saved donut said with a smile, "No problem! Lock all your doors, alright?". At the very least, he seemed a bit friendlier than the shorter one.

You nodded, and began to head toward your house. A part of you wanted to get to know the two officers you had met more, but you decided against it, not wanting to seem creepy.

Finally, you headed into your house. You locked the doors, the windows. And then, like you had been wanting to do for the entire night, you collapsed on your bed in your bedroom and drifted off to sleep.

————

The next morning, you awoke. Sunlight shimmered through your window. And you could hear the chirping of the birds from outside. Your first morning in this suburban neighborhood.

Your first instinct was to stress. Though when you stopped, you sat for a moment. You contemplated what you were going to do for the day.

[prismaticpichu]

From the prompts: 80. "Teach me?"

Aye aye captain!!

Complete nonsense, shallow as a kiddy pool. That’s where my brain was at today <3 (and totally not to counteract the trailer bc NO ONE GOES INSANE HERE *loads silly spray can*)

Seph started towards the trash can with a veiled expression, crumpling whatever it was that in was in his hands and shaking it free. It drifted into the bin without a sound. And, for some reason, Zack deduced that was not the dramatic, satisfying effect Seph had wanted.

“Whad’ya throw out?” Zack blinked, shifting on the couch to face his friend. The way it crinkled reminded him of a wrapper, but that was as impossible as a pigeon playing poker.

“A wrapper,” Sephiroth answered, somewhat deflated.

Well. Guess he was playing cards with a pigeon later.

“For real?!” A sudden flash of blue eyes appeared in front of Sephiroth. “What did you eat?!” Seph hardly ate—they were working on that, promise, but the fact that he had ate and it was something from a wrapper made it all the more magical.

Sephiroth nudged the cluster of black quills away. “Just… one of those sandwich cookies you’re so fond of.”

Oh man. Was there a full moon out or what?

“You had an Oreo?!” There was a supernova in Zack’s heart, swelling with pride and some other emotion he didn’t really have the time to decipher— because Seph, the fantastical and maybe malnourished Seph, had eaten an Oreo!

Seph responded to the jubilance with his version of a face-palm, thin and tired fingers kneading his eyes while he was at it. “Yes…” he sighed. “I did.”

It was pretty obvious that Seph didn’t want a celebration. And… the more Zack thought about, the more his hopping slowed, he realized why would he? He was doing the equivalent of bursting into applause because the underdog of the basketball team scored his first net. That… couldn’t feel good.

Zack’s chest suddenly twisted with guilt. For all the times he promised to treat Seph like a human, and what does he go and do?

“You’re right,” Zack sobered a little. “Sorry about that, pal. It’s nothing to go crazy about.”

Sephiroth crossed his arms, none of the uncomfortableness seeming to thaw. “It’s… not that. I was expecting that response, regardless.” I’m glad you’re proud… he added to himself.

Zack smirked, briefly, and then canted his head. “It’s not?” Fire lanced his heart. “Hojo didn’t see you, did he? I swear if that platypus—“

“No, no, that’s not it,” Sephiroth interjected before Zack came to any hasty conclusions—realistic, yes, and a concern he had scouting for as he slid change into the vending machine… but not this time. A deep, long sigh gusted from his lips. “Some of the SOLDIERs, as they saw me eating the treat, they…” His nails bit into his sleeves. “They started to laugh.”

For skin as polished as marble, for all the mirrors and forts he always could so skillfully stand behind, it truly baffled him that the immature scoff of three wayward Seconds managed to graze him. He had hesitated. Hesitated, pulling the cookie into his line of sight and studying it. Feeling as if he had to guard himself. To get away from that corridor and find shelter.

It was what he had feared all along: sandwich cookies and military generals did not mix.

Zack looked utterly deflated. “Awwww,” he squeaked, wrapping his arms around his friend’s neck in apology. “People can be so mean. You eat whatever you wanna eat.”

It was no surprise that Zack had figured out his qualms so quickly, a gentle balm that always made things easier to relive. Sephiroth rested his head against the boy’s shoulder, sinking into the warmth, serrated laughter fading into the back of his mind.

“Did you get all the frosting off?”

“Hmm?” It was a confused hum, Zack recognized; he had been studying them all for months.

“The frosting!” Zack elaborated. “It takes true talent to lick all of the frosting off.”

The humming escalated to a blink. “There was no… frosting licked off.”

Zack’s arms tore away in a heartbeat, still clamping his shoulders, still tight, but now the Mako-blue orbs were shot wide with shock. And understanding. And horror.

“Oh no, no no no no, Seph! Don’t tell me you ate the Oreo all in one piece!”

There was another round of blinking, much slower. “Is that… not right?”

Zack’s expression said it all.

“Ohhh man! No wonder they were looking at you weirdly, Seph! It wasn’t because you were eating an Oreo! It was how you were eating the Oreo!”

Sephiroth’s gaze fell to the floor, wondering how to process this information. It was a strange, looming feeling. On one hand, Zack had only been proven right, in that he could enjoy any food that he desired; on the other…

He still had so much to learn.

The man lifted his chin, green eyes rippling as they met with blue. “Would you… teach me, then?”

And that, that there, that is what set fireworks alight on Zack’s face. “Of course! What else are friends for?!” He sprang past his best friend and into the kitchen, a disorderly rustle echoing over the counter. “Just wait right there, bud. You’re gonna love this! You’re also super smart, right? I’m sure you know all about bisecting…”

Sephiroth lingered by the couch, just as instructed, actually finding himself looking forward to this lesson. The cookie had already been delicious… maybe it would be even more so with a friend.

[phantasmaltrain]

chapter three for today!! :]

check it out on ao3 if you prefer that!

or read below the cut!

general summary :

ingo finds many things question worthy while trying to follow his brother.

word count :

1,707.

( in his pajamas and a trench coat, sure, but clearly intent on not being left in the dark. )

to the passerby folk, seeing the sight that was subway boss ingo striding down the sidewalk with the motivation of an irritated tauros, yet looking as if he had just hardly rolled out of bed, was an odd sight, but everyone kept their comments to themselves.

it was nimbasa city, anyways. there was hardly anything you could consider a normal sight.

further up ahead, with emmet walking with roughly the same amount of resolve, nobody bothered question that either.

and to the much fewer who had put together the two were in a tense pursuit of one another, it raised mild flags, but it was rightfully not their buisness to interfere.

( for it being somewhat late in the evening, the streets were hardly close to empty. ingo noted that with a silent huff, weaving in and out of groups of strangers and somewhat familar passengers alike with an apology and polite tip of his hat; like he always did. )

( though perhaps falling into work habits now of all times, especially when this was now family buisness, at least to him, was to mask the concern sitting in his chest, like an uncomfortable, shifting weight. )

( something about today in general frankly disturbed him, even if it was just a little bit, and he certainly did not appreciate the lack of context he was being given. )

( that, and he was worried. )

( rounding another corner, he nearly crashed face first into another man; ) who, clearly, was much more attentive then he was, and swerved out of the way with a mild look of surprise.

( while ingo quickly turned to sputter out an apology, ) the blonde haired man shook his head with a soft laugh.

“ hey, hey- don't worry about it. no hard feelings. ”

blinking a few times, the other man seemed to stare for a few moments, as if he was practically studying his expression, before nodding, snapping his fingers.

“ ah- you're subway boss ingo, right?”

“ yes, that would be me. although it seems you've caught me off my usual tracks. ”

( haftheartedly gesturing to the fact he was not in uniform, ) the blonde haired stranger nodded, eventually holding out one hand with a hum.

“ well it's a pleasure to meet you, off duty, mr. ingo. my name's volo. i don't think i've had the pleasure of taking the battle subway very often, i've stopped on the doubles lines a few times. ”

( ingo held his hand out as well , accepting the polite gesture of a handshake with a nod. ) eventually volo drew his hand back, craning his head while clearly rummaging through his pockets for something.

eventually procuring a light blue post it note, neatly folded up in half, then in half again the other way, he handed the paper to ingo, ( who took it from his hand tentatively with a puzzled tilt of his head. before he could even unfold it, ) volo chimed in, a now oddly chipper tone to his voice in comparison to before.

“ well, i don't mean to hold you up, seeing as you're clearly in a rush, but would you mind passing this on to your brother for me when you see him next? i meant to give it to him tommorow, but this just seems all too coincidental to not take the oppurtunity, hah. ”

( while still admittedly offput by the other's switch in demeanor, ingo did eventually respond with a firm nod. )

and with that, volo practically dissapeared into the crowd with a simple wave goodbye.

( blinking a few times, ingo did eye the paper a few times over, baffled as to what someone could need to tell emmet so soon, yet feel the need to use post it notes instead of, what-- a text or email, but it wasn't his buisness. he'd give it to him at the station, as promised. )

( ..then again, he never distinctly promised anything. )

( no, no, no, you are not opening that letter, ingo treyne-- the man scolded himself practically like a toddler, stuffing the note in his jacket pocket and continuing on his way. )

( trodding right through the interpol station doorway, ingo quickly swept over the 'waiting' sort of area, eventually spotting emmet amongst the rather quiet room. )

the man was sitting half hunched over in a chair with his head rested on his hands; he kept bouncing his knee; the source of the constant “tap tap tap” echoing through the room, and his mouth did not move once, ( not even when ingo walked over and sat down beside him. )

“ emmet? are you ok? ”

tap. tap. tap.

“ you haven't informed me of anything that happened today, emmet. i'm concerned. ”

tap. tap. tap.

“ are you upset with me, or is right now just not a talking time? i don't need you to speak to me, emmet, but- ”

taptaptaptaptaptap--

still staring at the ground, a repeated clicking sound still eminating from the heel of his shoe hitting the floor, emmet held up one hand, then what one could read as a peace sign.

two fingers; that meant the latter.

( ingo could not help but sigh in relief. )

” that works. is it alright if we communicate like this until you've done what you need to do here, or until you're ok to talk? “

emmet's two fingered gesture then changed to a thumbs up.

” alright. how are you feeling right now? “

a thumbs up quickly shifted to a thumb's down.

“ ..is it related to what happened this morning? “

back to a thumb's up.

“ did you know something was going to happen today? ”

while he seemed uncertain, his hand stayed in a thumbs up.

“ how? ”

no response.

“ ah - no, that's too broad of a question. did someone tell you, or did you know on your own? ”

one finger. that meant the former.

“ were they on the doubles line today? ”

( ingo began to search his pockets for the note, ) while emmet's gesture of choice changes to a thumb's up.

( he carefully retrieved the pale blue slip of paper, showing it to the man sitting beside him; ) as emmet's expression turned from that of a frustrated look to just stunned, ( ingo had a solid idea on what to ask next. )

“ did they write on post it notes and go by the name volo? ”

emmet practically nabbed the paper right from his hands without responding.

( while ingo was surprised by such a reaction of all things, he did not react or make any sort of comment, simply watching with a raised brow. )

eventually after skimming the contents, emmet quickly folded the note and stashed it away; glancing back to ingo, almost apologetically, at first, before his face seemed to twist into a more confused look.

( as ingo stared back, initially in understanding, he eventually looked equally puzzled, craning his head. )

silently answering the equally silent question, emmet pointed to one eye, winking, before pointing to ingo's face.

” ..huh? is there something on my face ? “

he shook his head. slightly more aggressive with the gesture, emmet nearly poked ingo in the eye, trying to get his point across with a huff.

” is there something wrong with my eye? “

a nod. emmet quickly fished his xtransceiver out of his pocket; turning on the camera, he held the device between the two of them, gesturing for ingo to lean over and look.

seeing the worry cross ingo's face at his own reflection, emmet's brows furrowed. eventually the man cleared his throat, making an attempt at voicing his concerns before being cut off.

“ mr. emmet treyne? there's an officer availible to take your case, now. ”

the man at the front desk spoke up, in the direction of the twins; emmet nearly shot out of his chair like a misfired rocket, stuffing the paper note as well as his xtrans back in his pocket, before briefly turning to ingo.

“ will explain later. promise. “

( another thing, ingo could note about his brother; he despised breaking promises nearly as much as he hated lying. )

( so a nod in response was all he needed to do to show he understood. )

( ultimately, ingo chose to hang around in the waiting room. )

( frankly, he was rather sure he should see a doctor; human pupils were not supposed to change shape, especially something as jagged as a triangle of all things. )

( while he did have to admit it looked quite cool-- it still was a pressing matter! )

( snapping him out of his thoughts, his xtrans buzzed a few times over. drawing it from his pocket, he skimmed the messages, noting they were from emmet. )

em 🚊 || 9:17pm

hello

do you know who is on overnight security duty at the station tonight

there is something the officers want to take a look at

( something that urgent had happened at the station as well? ingo could not help but bite down on his tongue. he knew emmet had left early due to a headache, according to what he had been told; but that was it. )

ingo || 9:18pm

Jackie always covers the night shifts. They’ll be there regardless. I believe Cameron is there as well tonight.

Why do you ask?

em 🚊 || 9:20pm

security cams

there is something important on the securities cams

verrry important

could you contact them and let them know we will be making an unexpected stop there they don’t get too caught off guard

more for cameron then jackie

ingo || 9:22pm

👍

( … )

( right. he had promised. promised to explain everything later. )

( with that, ingo excused himself outside of the building with a hum, dialing to make a call. )

[seventeengoingunder]

As always when i consume a music related piece of media that makes me Think I am going to ask your opinion... if you find the time to read the Yungblud Rolling Stone cover story, what are your thoughts on it? Specifically the way he talks about himself vs. "great musicians"

The most succinct way I can describe my thoughts is that I am confused.

From what I gather, he's saying that he's more concerned with the message itself than how to present and word it. Which makes sense if you don't think about it too hard. Then you consider the fact that he's a musician who cares about the message of the music, but not…. the music? And my question is, why make music and not just simply be an influencer then? Which makes me feel like I'm reading this in bad faith, and I'm not trying to but I'm struggling to understand what he's actually getting at. I would understand if he said that he cares about the message and not how to promote the music. He seems to be very involved with the promotion though? I don't know. Moving on to the great musicians section!

“I look at truly great British artists like Amy Winehouse or Arctic Monkeys or Sam Fender, they have their critically acclaimed albums on [album] one or two or three. I am not like them, I will never be like them. My masterpiece is not Back to Black or Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not.It’s a 35-year career of making other people feel like they can express themselves. They are about the music; I am about the fucking people.”

I would somewhat understand what he's trying to get at if he only mentioned Arctic Monkeys. They don't have a core message, their music is not deeply or obviously political, they're not social media people so someone who is very wrapped up in TikTok trends and the like seeing them as unapproachable/not involved with their fans makes sense. They are about the music; I am about the fucking people. Okay. Sure. (bringing up AM as an album instead of you know. the one with When the Sun Goes Down would make more sense here but whatever floats his boat).

Saying that you're different from Sam Fender because you care about the people on the other hand. I mean. I don't have an explanation for that one. Amy is also a confusing mention to me. There are artist you could list here and have them make sense because they're known as being stuck-up and rude. This lineup is baffling.

I guess what he's trying to say is that he doesn't care about critical acclaim and awards but about people liking the music and finding comfort in it. That was a weird and long-winded way of saying that, and I don't think it separates him from other artists. But reading it as great albums instead of critically acclaimed albums would mean he doesn't think he'll ever make a great album. I would assume he doesn't think his music is bad? As I said. Confused.

[galaxythixf]

"…" Silence is what befalls him, unable to parse how someone could function without a care in the world. Inosuke's inability to think passed the present was both baffling and concerning, yet the only expression that he wore was drained from any praise he could have given the boar, simply perplexed. "I'd kill to be that dense." Is what finally leaves his lips, staring blankly at the other served in monotone.

His delusions of grandeur were almost paralyzing. Becoming a Hashira? How was Inosuke constantly living in a fairytale? Was there even a thought behind those eyes? Although his logic surrounding food did seem to check out. Zenitsu contemplated eating but he still found it hard to focus on stuffing his face when he knew it could possibly be his last. It's difficult to push passed his anxieties but he somewhat agrees with Inosuke that it would be best to give himself something filling.

"What else am I supposed to eat when you ate my food?" He questions, although Zenitsu technically didn't fight on for it. There were still rations for him to pluck from and he assumed Inosuke had been partially sated already after eating both his own and Zenitsu's food. "If you keep blowing through the rations like that there won't BE any food left! So keep your cravings under control!" He warns, possibly a bit too loud as he attempts to find something small to munch on instead. If they kept picking at their rations like this they'll sooner die of hunger before any demons even have to skewer them. The thought makes his blood run cold and frantically he searches for a bento to pick at.

"How can I be worried about something I don't know? Best case scenario, it's something strong and the fight will be interesting! Worst case, it's some weak thing and the fight's over in just one swing, but either way, I'm adding a kill to my tally! And I'm one step closer to becoming a Hashira!"

There had been an increasing amount of the first scenario's occurences. Inosuke was careful not to mention the few times where neither played out, and the result was not a victory for him to boast about.

"If you don't eat when you have food, you're a dead animal. When you're hungry, your body grows numb all over, you can't run as fast, and you can't move the way you want. Basically, you're already dead."

He eyed Zenitsu a little longer, his gaze travelling down to his comrade's protesting stomach.

"...we better find you something to eat. Or you're definitely gonna die in our next mission."

[theminecraftbee]

AU where Grian didn't leave the dragon egg behind on the rocket and Boatem has to deal with a baby dragon in the void?

"Hey guys," Grian says.

That, Pearl thinks, is a dangerous tone of voice. Not dangerous in the 'Grian is about to make up new games' sort of way, or even dangerous in the 'Grian has had more cows on his side of the void' than me way - Pearl has been winning the cow game, by the way, and she will continue this streak that she definitely actually has control over - but in a far more concerning sort of dangerous way.

That tone of voice is dangerous in the way of 'we have been trying not to talk about the revelation Impulse gave us the other day, or our general lack of food/hope/way out, and whatever he's about to say is going to rub up against that somehow'. That tone of voice is dangerous in the way of Grian doesn't want to talk about it but is anyway.

"Yes?" says Scar cheerfully, either entirely failing to pick up the tone Pearl had, or deliberately ignoring it.

"How mad would you be if I said I was hiding something?"

"I would kill you," Mumbo says.

Everyone looks at him for a moment. His expression is light. Pearl mentally says a prayer for Grian. F.

"Right," says Grian. "So, hypothetically, if I were to tell you I kept the dragon egg -"

"Hypothetically, I would kill you," agrees Mumbo.

"Hm. Maybe I shouldn't say that it's hatching then."

Pearl blinks. "Oh, it won't have a suit."

"Technically neither do we," Impulse says.

"Thanks," says Pearl, trying not to look at the crack in her suit.

"No problem!"

"I'm just saying, though. Your hypothetical dragon won't have a suit. What if it gets cold?"

"Don't dragons live in the End?" counters Impulse. "Dragons don't normally wear suits there."

"I mean, we don't either," says Mumbo. "Should we? Maybe that's why Endermen attack us. Because we aren't wearing suits. I don't think that makes sense, but it could. Maybe I should test that. Someone normally builds a nice enderman farm, so if I tested it -"

"I think dragons don't breathe," says Scar.

"What?" says Grian, baffled. "No, wait, focus. So, my hypothetical dragon egg is hatching -"

"It'll be so cold and alone," Pearl says.

"Where do you think we'll be?" Grian says.

"I mean, if I were a baby dragon, I would not want to be here with you all," Mumbo says.

"Mood," Impulse adds.

"AS I WAS SAYING," Grian says. "My hypothetical dragon egg is hatching. Should we like... make a plan?"

"How?" Pearl asks.

All five of them contemplate this for several minutes. Pearl considers their options. They've all only gotten somewhat better at moving. Maybe a dragon, with its wings, would be better at moving than they are? There's not really air. Actually, maybe Mumbo had a point - does the End have air? How did they breathe there? Maybe the suits have been a placebo all along, for real, instead of anything else happening? Anyway, she's not sure how to make a plan. Not that she can't plan. Several well-executed pranks indicate otherwise. No, it's that she has no plan-making tools on hands, and four other idiots to account for. These are not ideal planning circumstances. These are, in fact, anti-planning circumstances.

They're interrupted from contemplating how to make a plan when there's a very audible cracking noise. Pearl reaches instinctively for the cracks on her helmet, but they continue to do nothing, just as they have since she noticed them.

Instead, there's a tiny chirp as a dragon crawls out of Grian's pocket.

"Aw," Pearl says, all thoughts of plans leaving her mind. "I didn't know they'd be so cute as babies. Oh, I need to teach you to fly upside-down. Who's a sweet little thing?"

"Pearl," says Grian, faintly. "Pearl that dragon doesn't look right."

Pearl looks up. "What on earth do you mean? It's an ADORABLE dragon. Don't insult it."

"Pearl," Grian says again. "Guys. You all see it, don't you?"

The dragon blinks its five, pitch-black eyes and mewls.

"Yeah, that doesn't look right," agrees Impulse.

Pearl huffs. "Stop being mean to it. Come here, sweetie."

"It's leaking black goop," Mumbo says.

"It's a baby!" Pearl says, holding out her arms. "I will teach you to fly upside-down, yes I will, yes I will..."

"I am definitely going to kill you," Mumbo says to Grian as Pearl begins to scratch under the baby dragon's chin.

"You know, that's fair," Grian says.