#I am simply a little beasty.

[eclipsecrowned]

rp lore cat being unsettled by the miniscule chance that mira could press a claim. her husband reminds her just how tiny that chance is. his brother never ruled. no one is going to back brandon's bastard over n3d's own legitimate children.

several deaths, mysterious disappearances, and forced marriages to the opposition later, and maybe there are factions who want to argue that a man's daughters inherit before his brothers, and of course they're not saying n3d was a usurper, but maybe they should consider brandon's d0rnish girl if the worst should happen--

[sierracolorstheworldofwords]

Does Hoggle have B.O?

Your husband held a crystal within his long gloved fingers, musing at it. Twisting it towards you, he finally revealed what he was looking at– Hoggle, the infamous dwarf, greeting yet another human at the entrance of the labyrinth. 

From the corner of his eye, the equally, or rather, exuberantly more infamous Goblin King watched your expression. Your nose scrunched up, your eyebrows knitted, and your usually kind eyes narrowed. You thought in silence. 

Until, finally, you spoke. 

“Do you think Hoggle has B.O?” 

Jareth froze, "What?"

"Does Hoggle have B.O?" You asked again. 

He took a breath and opened his mouth to speak. He then closed it, and simply stared at you. 

You gestured towards the crystal, “I mean it! Look at him!” your voice started to rise, “He’s been peeing in that damn pond for years! And you know what? I’ve never seen him wash his hands once!”

Jareth ignored the twitch of his lips. He stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore the way laughter ached to climb up his throat. Curse you! Why on earth would you even ask him a question like that? If you had let him throw that fool into the bog after he helped that girl, you wouldn’t even have to ask that! But noooooo! You had to look up at him with those beautiful eyes that twinkled like crystals and stars and all the twinkling things he could think of and say, But Jareth! Don’t you think that’s a bit far? Really, he did no harm! 

He had tried so hard to resist that day, because, honestly, how were his well crafted threats supposed to work if you looked at him so softly, and held his arm like that? He still couldn’t live down the fact that you had him wrapped around your finger. 

Finally, he turned to you, his spoiled little beastie, and tried his best to not give the goblins more fodder for their teasing. He sculpted his face into a very appropriate and serious frown. One could not joke when there was a runner within the labyrinth! Especially when said runner was currently talking to a dwarf who had helped a human! 

Anyways, it wasn’t like you were doing anything funny. Just asking a question, really. 

“You have watched him too much,” Jareth said, ignoring the warmth in his chest as you kept smiling, “You oughtn't watch him so much.” 

You rolled your eyes, slumping in your throne as you crossed your arms, “Says the one watching him right now.” 

“Shush you.” 

“Look, Jareth, I’m being serious!” you hit the arms of your throne, an exact copy of his, to make your point, “Does he have B.O?! I’ve only talked to him once! But every time a runner comes he does the same thing!” 

Jareth sighed, looking up in exasperation, “You’re really making a big deal out of this–” 

“Of course I am!” you cried, throwing your arms in the air, “He pees! PEES, JARETH! In that pond! AND, he never washes his hands! NEVER! NEVER, JARETH! So you KNOW he stinks! Why do you think I told you to spare him?” 

Jareth placed a hand over his mouth. He took a shaky breath, ignoring the jolt of his shoulders as giggles threatened to pop out. 

“My love, we really ought to change the subject.” 

“Why do you think I told you to spare him from a bog dipping, huh?” 

“My dear,” his lips trembled, “Please–” 

“He’d stink up the whole place if we dipped him in the bog, Jareth!” 

A snicker escaped him and he coughed, pushing it down, “I suppose you have a point.” 

In response, your lovely, boisterous laughter echoed throughout the once lonely throne room. He couldn’t help it as a smile crossed his lips. Oh, he loved your laughter! It wasn’t like his at all! It was beautiful– sometimes, you just giggled, or chuckled, or wheezed while holding your sides. Sometimes, if he got lucky, a cute snort would escape you, and he couldn’t help but place the crystal aside, admiring you. 

“You see what I mean, then! Look at that little fool!” you pointed towards the crystal which was precariously balanced on the semi-circular sides of his throne, “He doesn’t even know what a sink is! I think, when we got married, his shirt used to be white, Jareth. White!” 

He wasn’t going to let you win this. You were going to be the one laughing, not him. Especially because you always brought out his unmanicured laughter. The laughter he couldn’t control– the type that would have him, The Goblin King, hitting his throne before rolling on the floor. 

“I mean it! Now it's khaki colored!"

He bit his lip, shoulders shaking, before he cleared his throat, "Well, I do believe his pants used to be a bright red, but no they've turned.. into a rather.. burgundy color."

In response, you snorted. He felt himself melt. It didn’t help that you were perfectly stationed next to him, always ready to cause mischief right alongside him. In fact, it made him practically purr, but he wasn’t going to admit that in front of his subjects. 

"Jareth!" You whispered, playfully hitting his shoulder, "you're so bad!"

"Unless my memory fails me, you weren't saying that this morning."

You rolled your eyes, until you collapsed into joyous giggles again, "He really does have B.O, doesn't he?"

"I don't quite remember the smells of my subjects, dear."

"Perhaps I should investigate?"

"If you do, you'll insult him! I know you too well, cheeky thing!" He shook his head, "You won't even mean to insult him! You'll just blurt something out! Then we'll be off trying to break yet another horrid curse!” 

"It's not my fault some of us don't have senses of humor!" 

"Yes, just like it's not my fault you're a horrid little gossip!"

You smirked, before shifting in your seat, completely facing him. Leaning your elbows on the arms of your throne, you hooked a hand underneath his chin, giving him a soft kiss– for a moment, he knew what the entire universe felt like, and the goblins watching the whole debacle were completely forgotten. It was just you and him, ruling side by side. 

“Well,” you pulled away, “Aren’t we lucky that you’re my true love then?”

He turned away, “That’s besides the point, really.” 

“Is it, my love?”

Now, he couldn’t help but grin. His gaze turned back to you, and he absolutely melted. You looked at him so adoringly, so sweetly, that all he wanted to do was let you take him into your arms and give him more affection. He’d laugh as much as you wanted, even more, if you kept looking at him like that. Then he heard a snicker. He glared at its source, before you rolled your eyes and cradled his cheek, kissing it softly. He saw the flash of pride flicker across your features as he melted again. You were a wicked, tempting thing. He knew this when he married you, yet he did it anyway. Afterall, he was the one who proposed. 

“Well, I suppose I quite like that.” he murmured softly, “So.. I suppose it is only fair that I go and find the answer to your absurd question.” 

“Of course,” you replied, kissing his cheek again, before adding another peck just for good measure. 

He stared at the ground for a moment, contemplating.

"I expect ten more." 

More of your delicious laughter, "Alright."

So, you gave him ten more kisses, before he went on his way. 

When he came back, his curled nose confirmed your suspicion.

"Well, you were right."

"Oh?" You grinned, tilting your head playfully, "Was I?"

"Yes! And I now realize that my threats of throwing the bugger into the bog were futile. No wonder why he helped that human.” 

At his comment, you began to giggle, and again, his lips tugged, and laughter crawled up his throat. Throwing your head back, you snorted, and he landed on the throne besides yours. What did you remind him of? Of bells in autumn, of spring’s first dawn? Of warmth, of life, of more? Sighing happily, he rested his chin on his hand. 

“I knew I was right!” you paused, “Do you think we should give him a crown and officially make him a prince?” 

“A prince?” Jareth asked, shifting in his throne. 

“Yes! The prince of the land of stench, of course! We could dip his head into the bog for his coronation.” 

With that, his own laughter finally slipped out, and he laughed the only way he could with you– imperfectly and happily, without a care in the world.

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 16: PEGGING Eustass Kidd 𝘹 F! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Requested by: @thegrandlinesimp ➡ I am jumping and leaping forward for the kinktober list! Can we please get a bratty, demanding sub!Kid for day 16. Pegging 😍 tw: pegging. sub! kidd. dom! reader (kinda cruel). masturbation. orgasm denial. wc: 912 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

When you look at Kid, you simply know he is not a sub. His imponent frame and his violent demeanour are far from ever imagining for him to be under someone

However, when you came into his life things definitely changed… One of them, positions -quite literally-

Such a big man on all fours has to be an interesting  view. His spread buttocks, his lifted hips and curled back. Around his neck, what could be considered a dog collar. And, attached to it, a metallic leash.

His hair, crimson like blood, like hell, rains on his face and over his shoulders. He is not allowed to wear his goggles while you are in charge.

Red lipstick, smeared; Eyes a little watery that have turned his eyeliner into black drops falling through his cheeks. His whines, far from the usual beasty grunts.

“Should I peg you and let you come this time, Kidd? Or should I leave you on the verge of it?” you ask, drizzling a sweet slippery solution on your fake dick.

“Let me come, please…” he begs, with thighs trembling and toes curling. Kidd looks at you from the mirror of that low budget motel, the crimson lights of cheap LED lights on the ceiling bathe both of you.

You smirk, coating the dildo attached to your strap on very well with enough lubricant. And enjoy how desperate he is for you to fill his hole.

“Wiggle your tail for me if you want it. Be a good boy for your mistress”  you chime, looking at his delightful submissive reflection. There is something about dominating such big boys that makes you extremely pleased.

Kidd looks at you and begins to move his hips side to side; as if he had an invisible tail, he acts like a dog in heat.

“Such a good puppy boy! Come on, let me give you your special treat” you purr, coming closer to his pathetically attractive body and kneel right behind him. With your hand, you begin pumping his dick that hangs in between his legs. It has already made a little puddle of precum over that green -already sticky- carpet. A puddle you hope it becomes bigger the more he comes during the night.

Kidd’s head hangs down and his back arches more and more. His shoulder blades protrude, his fake arm carves on what’s left of his arm… and he doesn’t care, Kidd is now a slave of your hands… his body belongs to you, as well as all of his free will.

When he begins to tremble as you pump harder, and your index stretches his back entrance, you stop. Right, and exactly a second before he reaches climax. It is painful for him, as he quivers and moves his hips searching for more stimulation… being orgasm denied is quite a torture for him.

“My mistress… why?! Please, more… more” he begs. “Because I don’t want you coming just from my hand, puppy! I want to penetrate that man pussy of yours!” you scoff, spanking his left ass cheek. -Already pretty red and hot as you kept giving him sudden and rough slaps on it-

Eustass accepts the deal. If it’s you fucking him, he can stand not coming for once. You are amazed at how well behaved he can be when he wants his ass pounded; it’s glorious.

“Spread wide for me, ok? I don’t want you to hurt” you command, requesting for him to open his legs enough for his hole to be stretched really good.

He immediately obeys, because Kidd can’t wait a single second more for your belligerent hip thrusts.

You squeeze the lube bottle right over the small of his back, allowing for the silicone-based compound to slide down and in between his buttocks. It drizzles, coldly on his entrance, and then it keeps squirting until his perineum, causing him to almost mewl.

“Such a bitch you are, Kidd. You love being fucked in the ass, don’t you?” “It’s you, mistress. It’s just because it is you who is doing it”

You smile, pleased. His words are just more fuel to the flames. Violently, you pull from his leash, causing him to gag and choke and with a strong grip the jelly dick slides with little to non-difficulty into his insides.

He grunts at the first intrusive thrust, and the more he gets used to the pounding the more his eyes turn white.

“You like it, puppy?” you ask, fastening and deepening the rams. “Ye…. Yeah… I- do… more… please” he moans, throwing his hips back for more. Insatiable, desperate, eager to be destroyed, wanting to cum with no hands but a feral insides wrecking session.

And soon, you can tell that his hardness becomes even harder. Twitching, growing the puddle of precum, trembling, quivering, with his teeth chattering… should you stop again? Should you keep going? What do you prefer?

Maybe both… cry, Kidd… plead for your climax… beg for me to give you the right to finally release yourself.

“I’m coming, Mistress!!” “Are you puppy boy? How much you want it? How much you are willing to do for me to let you cum? Hm?” you ask, scoffing at his pathetic wiggles, at the way he is unable to touch himself. How cruel can you be, to take advantage of such poor man.

“Please, please don’t stop… please! I will do anything!” “Well, you’ve been a very good boy… so now, go ahead… cum!”

yes... my mistress... thank you ~

taglist: @stephisokay @henrioo @shuzuiikoii @bullbonez @fengxinwifutobecalled @i-started-reading-fanfics-at12 @crimsonlikeshellsing @weebare808 @thestarwasborn @bookandyarndragon @cyberdazetragedy @uzxotic @fushiguroshotwife 💖🙆‍♀️

[pearlcatcher-problems]

I realise I've shared Sezha without actually Sharing Sezha so behold, my boy

I've been having so much fun with this section of the lair, and I am a lore / story-building lair despite the actual lack of public lore, so have some rambles regarding him and his section of the lair below as I scream into the void about him q wq

warning: this is a hot mess of rambles

The acolytes are all 'new age' beasties compared to the rest of the lair, so younger sprites with smaller energy than the wizened elementals or eldritch critters from Oasis or Deepwoods. They first emerged from the far roots of the Deepwoods, tainted by the magics of the Solstice Trio, and as such are still bound to lands corrupted by the forest above. They're cave-dwelling creatures with albinistic traits, but all streaked with peacock tones from Solstice influence. As a whole, they're quick to act and quick to forgive, often tumbling into wild tousles out of nowhere due to some innate itch.

They're primal in a way that defies their age, acting on core instinct above logic at most times. The entire lair is curated by their instincts as well, tunnels burrowed to keep nails and sometimes teeth in shape due to their specific diet ( tainted fungi and roots from the forest ) causing some reactions to some reverting to more beastly forms than they started. Most of the Acolytes spend their time... pretty much having the time of their lives. Short lives, but still. They curate moss ( so much moss, ) sculpt sections out of the limestone to show praise to the Solstice ( which leads to ornate tunnels winding with scale-like patterns carved into the walls for most of the lair, ) and they eat their weight in plump mushrooms and ichor-tainted roots. There's nothing to complain for since they have their every need met for the time being, until something monumental changes they're more than happy to continue their strange little life below the ground.

Sezha is the lair curator -- the one that plans new winding tunnels or cellars for different types of jewel-toned mushroom growths, and decides the final colour palettes for new artistic projects run by Seiph and pong ( who are both equally as passionate about ensuring the subterranean lair is as beautiful as it is sustainable. ) He often spends his time ripping through the tunnels at full tilt, knowing the lair so well that he can whip past daintier sections of their artistic 'venture' into the depths without so much as rustling the daintiest of fungi. His body is more stoat-like than anything else, modified and specialised for this way of life away from the air, his feathery wings often just used for emoting rather than ever catching air beneath them.

When not 'working,' he spends a lot of his time breeding silkmoths, the colonies able to sustain some of their trades with the other branches of their alliance, but it's mostly just something he enjoys doing. Cocoons are often found tucked into his dense fur or strung carefully on wires and tucked into the crooks of his wings for safety. When a new fungi colony is settled into a new lair section, Sezha will often have plans made for new moth colonies to introduce.

He's meticulous about keeping himself tidy, often idly grooming his fur and feathers while discussing matters with other Acolytes. Most of the cave network have walls bound with marble rather than dusty stones or raw earth for that reason. His body is often painted with gold pigments, making him shine under glowlights and sparkle while streaking past.

The only time the Acolytes are able to properly leave their den is during the Solstice's wake, which lasts about two weeks in summer and winter. All four of these are usually a time for Sezha to simply exist and watch life continue above the surface, to enjoy the tones outside of his normal reach, and to memorise as much of it as he could to inspire him for the next six months of work.

BIG MESS OF RAMBLING but I love he so much, I love this section of the lair so much, they're all just literal goblin energy beans that love to make things pretty and consider themselves artists but half the time it's just hyper-fixation and so much needs to be knocked down and redone constantly like a giant ouroborous of cave networks. They dance and gnash teeth, create, destroy, worship, and repeat.

maybe some day I'll actually get my lair lore out properly but it's literally a 3-saga thing at this point because 3-generations of lair heads RIP.

[martynsimp69]

instead of sleeping i am thinking about snowy creeper hybrid martyn because he is simply so delightful to me. it’s martyn’s turn to be a funny little beastie i think

[thebeesareback]

I am, of course, a huge fan of frogspawn, tadpoles and frogs, and I wonder how long it took for people to realise that they're all the same beastie in different stages of life. Like, imagine someone comes up to you with a tadpole in a jar and then a frog and tries to explain that the tadpole just randomly grows legs, changes colour and learns to hop? Bonkers. I would simply not believe you. Similarly, if someone showed me a caterpillar, a cocoon and then a butterfly? Oh yeah suuuuuure of course this weird little dude builds herself a shell, turns into a liquid and then has wings....

[wroteonedad]

Songs for oddly specific occasions

I love listening to music. I love to play the same 10 songs over and over again, each for different walking situations whether that be the I'm running late for the train or I need to go to the shop and buy some more mushrooms, I will always have my headphones on as I complete my silly little daily tasks. I figured I would compile a little list of songs to listen to for those oddly specific occasions. You're welcome.

Songs I listen to rushing to work to pour Doom Bars for Dave

New Bottega - Torren Foot & Azealia Banks. (2023).

This song has a hard fast beat. Kind of the way that drum and bass makes a person feel after taking drugs, but you get the same effect on the way to your minimum wage job.

GOT UR NUMBER - v2 - bugcried. (2020)

A quite frankly poorly produced song that makes me want to run a mile with its harsh elements of hyperpop. Love it.

Buzzkill - Take Van. (2022)

Another song with a harsh hardcore beat. Feels fun in the same way it does when a family member would go 2mph over the speed limit.

Songs I listen to when I'm cooking up my mackerel fillets in sweet chilli sauce

Alien Crime Lord - The Voidz. (2020)

When I'm cooking I love nothing more than fun jumpy genres of sound and this is the one song by The Voidz that makes chopping a spring onion a fun experience

Why - Carly Simon. (1982)

What is so good about this song is that I can still hear it even if my extractor fan is on full.

Unconscious Melody - Preoccupations. (2014)

No thoughts, head quite empty music. A personal favourite.

Songs I listen to walking across the pop up bars on the beach

Do the Astral Plane - TOSHIO MATSUURA GROUP. (2018)

Nearly 10 minutes of jazz and funk bliss. Added bonus, a Flying Lotus cover.

Estrelar - Marcos Valle. (1983)

Heard this playing from the pop up bar last summer and became a favourite straight away.

Summer Madness - Kool & The Gang. (1974)

I think anyone who says they don't like this song are simply lying to themselves actually

Songs I listen to when I'm reading the book I've been trying to finish for a year

Audrey's Dance (Instrumental) - Angelo Badalamenti. (1990)

This song is simply the goated song on the entire Twin Peaks soundtrack and is so soothing

CHANCES (INSTRUMENTAL) - KAYTRANADA. (2018)

KAYTRANDA makes some of the most wonderful beats to grace the nation, any instrumental makes me concentrate.

No - Nicolas Jaar. (2016)

Nicolas Jaar has so many songs I could sit and be quiet to, but this is one of my favourites to simply unwind.

Songs I listen to when I'm getting ready to feel disappointed and whelmed in a club

Two of Hearts - Stacey Q. (1986)

Fun. Girly. Makes me feel like I'm in a time capsule of some form.

NEW MAGIC WAND - Tyler, The Creator. (2019).

If only the clubs around here played this instead of Drake.

Clear Air - Sevdaliza. (2015).

This was recommended to me by a Tumblr mutual over 5 years ago and still continues to be one of my favourite hype songs.

Songs I would listen to cleaning the glass washers at work if I was ever brave enough to play my music out loud

Babooshka - Kate Bush. (1980)

This song makes me feel like the most powerful woman on earth

Perseguido Por El Rayo Mixed - Pegasus & Peggy Gou. (2019)

I feel like I'm a character in a Mario game whenever this comes on

Shambala - Beastie Boys. (1994)

Mike Ehrmantraut I am looking at you

Songs I listen to as I walk by screaming babies in clothing stores

Bruce Lee - Underworld. (1999)

The song is so loud that it'll drown any loud noise out

Hallways - Grimes. (2010)

Grimes squeaks so much in this that the crying would blend in well

Atopos - Bjork. (2022)

Industrial sounding in a fun out of this world way

This is how I feel when I am walking around listening to any of these songs in any of these situations. Hope everyone enjoyed it :)

[tiefteefs]

Sometimes I accidentally queue non horned beasties… sorry I am simply a little guy who hasn’t updated his app since December ‘21

[lemonflavouredchaos]

Fuel to the Fire (Dmitri Antonov x Reader)

Based on a request recieved through my main blog - 

“dmitri antonov x reader where they angrily make out, maybe after a fight, thank you <3″

This is an AU where Dmitri has no family in Russia and has decided to flee to America along with Hopper, Joyce and Murray to evade the governmental forces who will quickly realize that he knows more than he should if he turns up alive. Y/N is a foreign journalist resident in America who caught and sent to Kamchatka after being sent to Russia on behalf of a newspaper.

*Part 2 is here*

      You had been no stranger to snow - at home the winters were bitter, but Russia was a whole new frontier. Even before you were caught red-handed on restricted grounds and sent to Kamchatka the sheer amount of snow had been mindblowing. 

The lands beyond the prison were almost apocalyptic with it. Cold-bitten hands jammed into your armpits, you push on, head down, cursing the day you had taken your job at the Post,  

“Keep up, little duck, or you’ll be left behind.” Even through the howling wind you could hear the smirk on his face. Dmitri Antonov was a smug arsehole - and that was a truth you’d take to your grave. Demons and monsters and beasties of all unknown varieties may have burst from the primordial ooze under the world to shake your concept of the supernatural, but God himself couldn’t have told you different about Dmitri, 

“Keep up little duck,” you mimic, screwing up your face behind the scarf, “should have left you in the yard with the rest of the guards.” 

“What?” Dmitri turns to call, eyes narrow against the wind but still bright and sharp in a way that makes your heart beat harder - the rest of the group grinds to a halt, 

“I asked if it’s very far?” You shout back and he shakes his head, 

“No - over the next hill,”

“You said that at the bottom of this hill!”

“Well forgive me for finding it hard to see in a blizzard, American!”

“I’m not American,” you call, but he was already turning away, “dickhead.” 

No amount of wrath could keep you warm, however, and the sight of a smudge on the horizon that slowly became a cabin of sorts was like manna from heaven. Though it was lean-to, weathered, and in darkness, it might as well have been a palace. Hopper throws his bulk against the jammed door once, twice, three times before it gives then stands back to usher you all in. It’s inky inside, but already warmer thanks to the wind. When the door shuts once more, the blackness is complete for a few moments; someone brushes past you, making the hairs on your arms stand up then a clicking breaks the tension and a dim gas lamp lights. 

Dmitri looks over his shoulder, raising the lamp with a wry smile, 

“Happy now?” There’s a glint in his eye that makes your stomach churn, but you simply raise your chin and shrug, 

“I mean, I’m happier.” 

“Then I am happy,” he says with a snort and pushes past you, “if only all our problems were solved so quickly.” 

The real problem, other than the fact that Katinka couldn’t possibly carry you all (which at least rid you of Yuri’s presence), was that he had a poker face most professionals would kill for. There was no way of knowing how much of what he said was a friendly, or at least non-malicious barb, and what was a serious jab. 

    With the lights lit and a small fire crackling in the woodburner that heats the house, the small building almost feels comfortable. You settle into a musty chair and sip your share of the nameless liquor that Hopper had pulled from a musty cupboard, 

“Well, the good news is that there are, in fact, dry, non-mouldy beds with blankets,” Murray says, striding into the room with his usual swagger, “the bad news is there are only three of them which means four of us are sharing... now, I don’t know whether getting a bed to yourself is the prize or the shortest straw, but I feel that whoever sleeps alone gets the extra blanket because... well, less body heat. Fair?”

“Hop and I can share,” Joyce says it nonchalantly, but a little too quickly. The room goes silent for a few seconds and Dmitri’s eyes flick to yours, brows quirking a little. 

“Ok, that leaves... us three,” Murray looks between you, 

“I think the two of you should share,” you say, crossing your arms, 

“I think I’d rather shit in my hands and clap,” Dmitri replies dryly, 

“I have to admit, between our resident Russian’s charm and your sparkling personality, the choice is hard to make,” Murray spreads his hands, “but I have a suggestion that none of us will be happy with.” He grabs a hanging edge of some peeling wallpaper and tears a strip loose, then hooks a piece of charcoal out of the fireplace with the poker. Tearing three strips, he smudges a black mark onto one piece and folds the three. Pulling the hat from his head, he drops the paper in and shakes it, “whoever pulls the black spot gets the honour of freezing his, or her, ass off alone. Yes? No arguing?”

You exchange a look with Dmitri then shrug, 

“Fine,” you say, 

“Alright,” Dmitri grunts and rolls his thick shoulders, “ladies first.” He motions to the hat and you reluctantly lean in to take a square of paper. He follows your lead and Murray claims the last piece, 

“Well... shall we find out together children?” Murray asks and you nod. The yellowing paper opens up to reveal... nothing. You resist the urge to swear, 

“Well shit.” Murray throws his head back and laughs, “look who won the lottery.” The black spot on his paper stands out like a neon light in the dim room. Dmitris eyes flash at you in the half light, 

“Alright American, looks like we’ll have to make peace, no?” He asks with a strange twist of his mouth, 

“I’m not fucking American,” you growl and turn on your heel, “and I’m going to wash.” 

“Leave the water in the tub” Hopper calls, “God knows how much hot water this fire’ll get us.”

     The water runs cloudy but warm, then hot as hell. Almost scalding, actually, thanks to the wood burner. An ancient lufah and a curling heel of soap, clearly left by the last people to pass through the safehouse make decent work of the grime and blood engrained into your body and you step from the steaming tub pink and tingling. Almost raw without the layer of dirt you have become so accustomed to, you peel the sodden underwear from your skin. It’s not exactly fresh and clean, but a quick scrub and a place to hang will be about as good as it gets until you get home, 

“Y/N?” Joyce’s voice is muffled through the door, 

“Yes?”

“I found some old nightdresses in the wardrobe, do you want one? Hop’s boiled a bucket of water for washing clothes.” 

“Yes, please,” you say, voice laden with relief and inch the door open, extending a hand, “thank you.” The material is slightly rough but thick, 

“There’s a pair of sock too,” Joyce says, “Hop and I are in the room by the stairs, you and Dmitri are at the back of the house.”

“Thank you.” The socks are clearly mens, but the thick wool feels heavenly on your feet and the voluminous night dress takes the chill from the air as you shuffle downstairs and Joyce takes your place in the bathroom. Hopper and Murray nod, “clothes,” you say with an apologetic nod, “I already did my... uh, undergarments.” Hopper nods and points to a makeshift drying rack in front of the wood fire, 

“I’ll do ‘em,” he said, “I’m last in the tub, anyway... for obvious reasons.” He is undoubtedly the most caked in grime and blood. You grimace and nod, 

“Thank you... I might just head up, then,” you say and he nods, 

“Night.” 

     Though run down in appearance, the house is solid - the floorboards don’t creak, and the hinges are silent as you open the door, which may be why Dmitri doesn’t look up when you walk into the room. Shirtless, in a pair of tight, grey lounging pants of some kind, and frowning into a mirror, he’s washing his face and body with a rough cloth and a steaming bowl of water. He’s imposing, of course, but somehow vulnerable in the dim, warm light - that’s your first thought, then his eyes flick to you and you jump, 

“Oh, shit, God sorry, I-”

“It’s fine,” he says and waves a broad, calloused hand before lifting a chunky straight razor to cut the dark, curling hair that had started to form on his face over the days of walking, “we’re about to get a lot closer than this.”

“Yep,” it’s meant to sound flippant, but your voice comes out hard and flat. Dmitri sighs and wipes his face, turning to face you as he crosses his arms across his broad chest. The dark hair peppered across his chest and belly shines in the low lighting, 

“You don’t like me very much, do you? Why?” He asks, and you gape, 

“Why? You’re... look, do we have to do this now?”

“I think we should,” he raises his brows, “rather than sleep with the issue between us.”

“You’d rather sleep with nothing between us?” You retort and he smirks, chuckling, 

“I’d rather sleep with the certainty you’re not going to smother me in my sleep,” he murmurs and looks down, “I know you have no reason to trust a Kamchatka guard, but I have no ill will to you...”

“You think I don’t like you because you worked as a prison guard?” You gape,

“Well, I can’t think of another reason why you would feel so strongly.”

“I don’t like you because you’re a sarcastic, caustic, infuriating, smug-”

“Hold on-”

“Arrogant-”

“Wait-”

“Arsehole,” you cross your own arms and then, emboldened by his shock, you push on, “and I don’t know why you bothered asking because you’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t think much of me.”

Dmitri scratches his clean-shaven chin and licks his lips, 

“You think I don’t like you?” He asks, and for some reason it makes you want to scream, 

“Oh you’ve made that very clear with your condescending ‘little ducks’ and ‘Americans’,and by the way fuck you for that - I am not American, how would you like it if I called you Lativan or Serbian?” His face starts to flush, and he starts to speak even as you push on. The words become uninteligible, mashing together as the two of you draw close to each other, hands gesticulating, until you are nose to nose and his face changes. Dmitri goes quiet and a small smile plays at his lips, 

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” he murmurs, and the words are louder than gunshots. You freeze, heart hammering in your chest, torn between the desire to scream and the overwhelming urge to laugh. The shock of it alone could send you to your knees, “very beautiful,” he says, then with a devilish smile, “for an American.” 

     If he had been expecting you to push him it’s likely he would not have stumbled, but your hands in his chest send Dmitri reeling before he recovers and closes the space between you, hand sliding into your hair to tug you close. It’s the kind of kiss that usually only exists in fiction; he looms over you, hands brutally strong as he bears you back against the wall. Struggling to pull your hands from between the rough material of your nightgown and the cool, soft skin of his belly, groping at the thick muscles of his shoulders and whimper into his mouth. Dmitri pins you with his weight, catching your bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before he wraps a strong arm around your waist and drags you to him. 

It still feels like a struggle as you dance backwards, his mouth trailing down your neck and he surges forward, but your hands seem to be tugging him close rather than pushing him away, now. Teeth nip at your collar bone, the heat of his tongue on the corner of your jaw sends electricity through your body. 

Lifting your feet from the ground, Dmitri grunts as your arms twine around his neck and wrap your legs around his waist, breath leaving you in a huff as you collide with the wall again and something clatters in the room. A hot, heavy tension settles between your legs and you nip his lips sharply enough to make him hiss. Dmitri pulls away for a moment, eyes heavy lidded and hazy as he dips down to seek another kiss, chasing your lips as you squirm and a giggle drips from your lips and his hands drop to your rear. The frenzy is over - the next few kisses are firm but slow, 

“God woman, you’ve decided to kill me slowly,” he growls, accent almost thick enough to cut, as his hands slide under the nightgown and find bare skin, “or perhaps this was your plan all along.” 

“Fuck you,” you whisper, but it lacks conviction - your body is humming with need. 

“If you insist,” he mutters, but before you can reply Hopper’s voice breaks the moment, 

“Y/N? Dmitri?”  You squirm away from his searching hand and he stops, pulling away to let you straighten your nightgown, 

“Yes?” Dmitri calls, 

“Everything alright, heard a crash?”

“That was me,” Dmitri calls, eyes sliding to you, “I knocked over the stool when I was shaving.” Silence, 

“Right.” Hoppers voice is so thick with disbelief it might as well be an accusation. You flush, “sleep tight you two.” .

You start to laugh, covering your mouth to muffle the sound as Dmitri purses his lips and shakes his head,  the skin at the side of his eyes crinklin, “forgive me,” he whispers after a few moments, “I couldn’t resist.”

“The joke, or the kiss?”

“Either,” he takes another step back, licking his lips, “I did not... I don’t dislike you, in fact I like you more than I should.” Suddenly it makes more sense - the way he herded you, checked on you, teased you. It wasn’t hostility. You take a breath, 

“I feel foolish now,” you admit and scratch your head, 

“No,” he shook his head, the clean, sharp smell of the soap he had used to wash worming its way into your nose as the windows rattle and the snow outside swirls, “it is perhaps, how do you say, a miscommunication?” You shiver and he turns to look at the bed, “I can sleep on the floor, if you will be more comfortable, I understand-”

“No,” you shake your head, “no, that’s not... necessary.” 

“I promise to be a gentleman,” he says, raising his hands as if in surrender and as you slip past him to clamber between the covers you smirk and take the plunge, 

“What a shame.”

[modmad]

wow so that story about the photography/rights was so scary- I'm glad it all worked out, do you have any other pearls of wisdom won the hard way? I'm young but so scared of the world and I want to learn all I can ahead of time ;;

Okay so I’m putting this under a cut bc it will be lengthy, it was also stressful as heck so while I’ll write it lightheartedly do know that I’m talking about something that has caused me ludicrous levels of anxiety when and ever since it happened, though with that came a great worldly wisdom. In summary this is the tale of-

Trust your gut. Pay up front. Do not work with crazy.

I will make this vague so as to protect the identity of the person, but if you guess or figure it out I do not want you to go after them for several reasons: one being that perhaps they have changed, but the honest fact is I am afraid of ever being linked to them again and any resurgence of this event could cause that.

Now to the part where I try to make this all sound sort of funny.

Long story short(er) I needed someone to make music for a project- I’d collaborated before with people I knew, but was running out of time, so connected with a new person through my place of study. At first it seemed fine! They were good at piano, knew what I was looking for, and other than a slightly odd way of writing in their emails all seemed well. I asked what the price would be: it sounded reasonable, and I offered to pay upfront or at least pay half in advance.

This is where the bridge began to crumble, kids. They refused. They wanted the whole payment after they’d made the music.

Now this might sound okay to some of you- great! More time to get the money together, right? But I had the money, I wanted to pay and do it right, 'have it over with', so to say. I always take payment in advance to protect myself when I’m doing commissions for people, so this was odd to me. Thinking it might be modesty I offered twice and they refused again, and not wanting to insult them I conceded.

Fool’s errand. You see, taking payment in advance is a protection for the artist, yes- but it is also protection for the buyer. But I did not know this, at the time...

Fast forward to the end: the project is done, music is great, when and how can I pay you? I ask. In person in cash on the night of *insert large important event that you are going to as well*, they say. Oh, sure! I said. I didn’t say that made me feel uncomfortable, which it did, because I didn’t want to have to take out a large cash sum and be carrying it around with me. Still, perhaps they had reasons, and the work was done so I agreed.

What I hadn’t anticipated, and could not have anticipated, was what happened next: I forgot to take the money with me.

Now before you think the worst: to give you some context (which you only have my word to believe but those who know me and have worked with me professionally I am certain can attest to)- I have never been in debt. I have never missed payments. I have never even been overdrawn with my bank account. This is not because I am the superior being, so organised or wealthy that such things are impossible! No, it’s because I am a tiny frightened little beast who can think of nothing more ghastly and terrifying than being in debt. I hate the idea of borrowing money so much that I have not even taken out a loan even during the direst times, and have literally arm wrestled my friends to pay for their lunch rather than the other way around.

You must also understand that I, small and anxious beastie that I am, have a brain that has a very limited capacity, and this event was huge for me- so important that it was the climax of the year, something I had been looking forwards to for months. I was so occupied trying not to forget myself, that I simply forgot the money: which I had! In my wallet, back home, in the wallet I forgot.

Comes the meeting: where’s the money? Oh shit, says I.

Giddy and embarrassed and trying not to fall behind the group that is moving on to the after party, a once in a lifetime event I could not afford to miss, I hope that this can be understood: Can I pay you tomorrow? I ask. I get a shade of kill bill sirens from the look they give me, but nothing further as I cannot be delayed any further. We depart, I move on, and experience one of the happiest nights of my life with people that I love.

I return to my flat and, possibly the biggest mistake yet? Check my emails before turning in to bed.

Lo: they have sent me the most angry, offensive email I have ever received, accusing me of duping them and threatening law action if I do not pay immediately. Remember what I said about paying in advance also protecting the payer? Yeah.

My anxiety gives way to outrage. I am insulted and sad and angry, and the worst of it is that even now I cannot remember the events of that happiest night with any clarity, because the party and the preceding event are so mired and blocked by the enormity of the mortification that single email caused me. I am with someone at the time, fortunately, so I have someone to grief with, though I rage and strike my desk so hard that I hurt my right wrist. So badly, in fact, that it has never fully recovered (at the time I had no idea of my pre-existing condition). In that moment I am so past any level of indignation I have ever felt before that it is an hour before I feel any pain. Meanwhile, said friend replies to the email as calmly as they can (surely a blessing, I cannot fathom having replied myself), and a payment is made via paypal within the hour: something which I offered to do on day one, right from the first conversation.

Is there a happy ending? No. Not really. That piece of work is forever poisoned for me, and other people who enjoy it can never know how much I wish it had another soundtrack. The memories of the event and evening are, as I said, inextricable from the trauma of that person’s email- something a therapist had to explain to me in later years- and all of it could have been avoided if I had paid when I wanted to, and offered to, back in the beginning.

The only commiseration I have is that perhaps people who read this Aesop's tale will be more willing than I was to listen to the little voice that chimes when talking to prospective partners. If you get a twinge of doubt- listen to it, what is it? Talk to it. What does it feel like? Where in your body? Find a word to describe it. Have you felt it before, and been right about something? Our bodies are finely tuned survival machines, and while we don’t always understand how or why, they often pick up on danger signals early in the game. Society and ‘politeness’ sometimes compels us to ignore them, and I have found time and time again that it is foolish to do so. I make the same mistakes even now, but much less often, and maybe you will make them even less often than me.

Don’t ignore your gut instincts, and remember to pay and take payments in advance if you can. Even in the worst case of 'if you pay and the person doesn’t produce the work on time', that puts you in the right: you have evidence, you did the right thing, and you are protected.

Take care of yourself folks, and if you get a ‘this person might be crazy’ vibe? Back away. Just back away.

[the-grumpywaterwitch]

I am a hill folk through and through. I don’t feel right if the roads don’t have four or five switchbacks on up to the top of the hill. If I can’t hike up a nice lil hill and look out over the land for miles once I get there it’s simply not for me.

I’m a woods person too. A place without trees unsettles me. I sleep uneasy without them.

There's that thing where you are a mountain, desert, or ocean person. I think there are more archetypes than that. There are mesa people, lake people, valley people, and woods people come so many different varieties.

I'm a mountain/pacific northwest woods/ river person. That's where I feel most me.

[infraaa]

Malleus breaks down… selfishly encapsulated by Yuu. In order to document his affections, he writes them down in an old notebook he forgot about, locking it away for no one else to find. Whats in there anyway?

tw// yandere themes, just a lot of violence and anger and death talk. ya’ll know the drill.

Order Notes: Written in Malleus’ perspective, GN!Reader, I have a tendency to write Lilia with gender neutral pronouns. Headcanon=gender fluid/non-binary bat dad-

『20 October 2021 ; 16:14 PM』

I remember when I first met them. Their glittering e/c eyes, bright and lovely when they look at me. When they see me. For Great Seven’s sake, I can not even draw a circle to save my life, however, I find myself sketching the shape and shades of their eyes so that I can gaze into them even when I am not present with them. I find their eyes to be so amusing to me, how they become glossy when they blush, how they glare at Trappola and Spade when they act up, when they roll when that little Beastie, Grim, gets all riled up.

I find myself fantasizing about their eyes more and more. I want to have them. To possess them, those mortal eyes. Not literally, of course, in a figurative manner. For them to see me and me alone in this mystical world, in my dark kingdom, where other dragons roam, I want them to be able to look at me, those enchanting eyes, and be able to speak, “What beauty he holds, what grace he carries, my great Prince Draconia.” More shiny than any other gemstone, those eyes. When they look to others, I feel a boil in my chest, like something bubbling. It feels like heartburn, itchy and painful. It makes me upset to see their focus on Kingscholar, that dreaded, angry lion. Or that pompous octopus, Ashengrotto. Those eyes… I see our destiny in those eyes. My destiny. My fate. My life. My love. I will have everything unfurl in my lap no matter what it desires. Even if I must, literally, take their eyes, coiled and dripping with blood, fresh, warm, lingering… I want that life. It will be mine. Soon enough, that life will be mine.

『20 October 2021 ; 16:35 PM』

My mind nearly went out the door when they wore the outfit they wore. They drive me up the wall, as the mortals say. Needless to say, I do not want them wearing that outfit around other men. I don’t like that idea. Those arrogant, perverse eyes on my most precious treasure. Soiling their name, their image. They looked so pure, like a doll dressed in white for a funeral. Something so precious and sweet can be so sinful, I see. They turned their head and looked towards the skies. Even if the skies hold something dear, it is not as dear as when the sky calls its beautiful chant, the wind cascading through their h/l h/c hair. Even their s/c skin looks beautiful in the moonlight, the moon is full of serenades. Just thinking about the moon goddess, Selene, makes me feel unsatisfied. Should I compare them to that beautiful goddess? It is too much for that dear mortal, I suppose. They are truly an enigma even for my intelligent, immortal mind. My retainers are growing wary of me. Wary that I may lose myself to that enigma of a human being. “Fret not,” I say, “I am simply infatuated.” But what is infatuation without interest? I had Lilia capture a photograph of them with their cellular… or… whatever they call it. They printed it out and gave it to me upon my request. If only this photograph was the real thing… yes… the real thing. If only I had them in my arms. If only I had them close to me. If only I had them… all fae are naturally born with the gift of flattery. I’ll ensnare them soon enough. I will have that human in my arms on no time, sooner or later, sooner preferably. And they will not resist. It’s fate. We were destined to walk hand in hand, a prince and princess, king and queen, my other half, standing beside me…

『20 October 2021 ; 19:31』

Shall I fall into madness? Shall I shake and tremble in insanity as I pull my raven hair from my scalp? I can hear each individual strand growing in their follicles. I can hear the soft clash of my eyelashes when I blink, and the sounds that my eyes make when they roll in their sockets. Pray tell, do people creep into your dreams and prohibit you from slumber? Although I need not to sleep, I feel as though I want to simply out of desire. The underclassmen have looked at me, the soft bags under my eyes. I am indeed losing sleep over this human. I do indeed hear them whisper that I’m turning into a maniac. But I do get manic when I cause a stir. I just want a taste of that mortal… But, even if I do, I know the normal sayings, it’s what’s inside that counts, yes? I want to take them for everything that they possess, whether internal or external. I hit my first unfortunate ingrate of a fool today. That Leech Twin, Floyd. He looked at them funny. I let him know just what exactly I think of that. My head was reeling when I saw the red… come out… Sinful choirs sing in my head. “The Red Means I Love You,” I have listened to that song before. How come that managed to encapsulate my emotions perfectly for them and the moment I was in with that senseless eel of a man. The family name Leech makes sense with his personality, that damn man! I WANTED HIM DEAD! RED! SPILLING! SPILLING EVERYWHERE! LEAVING ME HIGH! HIGH I DARE SAY SHAMELESSLY. And Crowley, the Dire President of this prestigious academy, I will see to it that he does not find a way home for that mortal. They are staying with me. They are leaving to the Valley of Thorns with me. It’s in my dreams, my visions at night, presented to me by the moonlight, the goodness of the night, plaguing me with copious amounts of insomnia filled hours within my bed chamber. It’s almost like they’re confining me in my own hell… Is this what it feels like to be desperate? If so… the desperation hurts so good…

[uesp]

What have I done?

It was but a simple experiment. A transmutation of features, a brand new fauna to bring to Vvardenfell. And what did I create? For perhaps the first time in my career, I wish I had failed. What sort of Telvanni mage am I to say such a thing? I made the immediate decision to destroy my creation. Yes, it was not inherently evil, or dangerous, or any of the traits normally associated with regrettable experiments. But it haunted me with its unnatural form, its protruding head, its fusion of scales and fur. I knew I had to destroy it.

My deep sense of curiosity was my downfall. My mind was made up to undo what I had done, but I was too vain to let my experiment be destroyed before setting up at least the most basic of tests. I was in the middle of one when my darling little girl burst into my office with her daily demand for sweets.

How this creature entrapped my daughter I will never know, but she was immediately besotted by it. She took that vile thing in her arms and began to coo. Its revolting tongue stretched from its snout and rubbed against her arm, and rather than cry out in horror she simply laughed and said, "Oh, father, what a cute little beastie! Whatever is it called?"

I had no choice but to think of a name. She demanded it as a pet, and I cannot say no to those sweet, crimson eyes. But I refuse to agree to her newest request, a family for the horrid thing. One of these creatures living within the world is horrible enough, but at least I did not create an immortal.

Master Scaly-Tale's death will be the end to his species, mark my words. Never will I allow my beloved Vvardenfell to be overrun by creatures so revoltingly … cute.

--A Telvanni Magister allowing his daughter to adopt one of his magical experiments as a pet, the first Vvardvark. While he claims here he wouldn't allow more to exist, more Vvardvarks were ultimately created.

[bombadills]

⌘Midna & Link⌘

for the loveliest @shallowmagics

The sun was going down when she arrived. The long shadows cast by the waning light enveloped her in a sort of embrace that you cannot comprehend unless you’ve been a creature of Twilight. The woman– pretty, willowy, regal– swiveled her head around, looking for someone, anyone, to ask questions; for she did not know where she was, nor how she had arrived there. She had simply woken up beneath a tree, and started to walk. She was heading away from the sun, for even in an uncursed form, the brightness of it was uncomfortable. 

Finally, a light in the distance gave her a direction to head. By the look of the few buildings there, this was human territory. Farmland most likely… yet there was a strangeness to the air. Midna used to be able to taste the magic in the air of Hyrule, but that wasn’t present here. Maybe this was another place entirely. The idea made her slightly nervous, fiddling with the end of the patterned veil that restrained her fiery hair from her face.

The air was cool, getting colder by the minute. It was starting to get to her, as her skirt was long, thin material with a slit up the side and her top was cropped with a little decorative shawl draped over her shoulders. An outfit which was clearly not meant for an evening in Wales, even for someone with a high tolerance to the cold. She was thinking of teleporting when a figure caught her eye a bit further down the path.

“Hey! Hello! Hey! Could you hang on a minute?” she called, extending a hand upward in a wave. Midna quickened her pace to catch up to him. “This is going to sound crazy, but I have no idea where I am, and I was wondering if you could tell me–” Her voice got lost in her throat when she saw who it was. Her beastie, her hero, her best friend, the one person she had wanted to see for years, but couldn’t reach. Grinning, she picked up the pace until there was no distance left between them. “Link!? Is that you? Oh this is perfect! I told you I’d see you again!” she giggled, before tossing her arms around him, though she quickly pulled away. “You smell like shit.”

[jewfrogs]

so was that turkey from a farm or wild? is that smth they get in usa? wild turkeys? (idk anything about usa)

there are simply turkeys sometimes! turkeys are native to north america and we have MANY of them esp here in new england. colonization caused the population to dwindle and they were nearly extinct by the mid-20th century but conservation efforts managed to save them... except they worked Too Well and now we are haunted by these beasts! we are caught in the clutches of their terrible bird feet. from a guardian article about the wild turkey problem:

It’s also one of the greatest conservation success stories in modern America, going from all but extinct in large parts of the country as recently as the 1970s, to so numerous that the 4ft-tall, 20-30lb, highly adaptable animals have successfully “overrun” hundreds of US cities.

Trashing homes, intimidating people and holding up traffic, earning their reputation as one of the most bad-tempered neighbours on the block.

Or, as Scientific American, put it, “ugly hooligan nuisance birds”.

which seems a little harsh to me these are birds! simply birds. they are creatures of g-d too and i am quite fond of them. i will concede the hooligan point however these beasties i met the other day did NOT look both ways before crossing the street:

[delimeful]

the end of being alone (1)

A WIBAR AU (that’s right, an AU of an AU) where the circumstances of Virgil’s introduction to the group-- or rather, Virgil himself-- are... a little different. A commission for @bumblebeekitten! 

warnings: unknowingly referring to a person as ‘it’, panic, fear, child endangerment

---

Patton woke up to the distinctive clamor of his teammates bickering. It was a familiar sound. 

“-- has been three days, are you certain we aren’t simply chasing a local legend with no basis in reality?” That would be Logan!

“Look, you two are the ones that decided to come with me, I would have been perfectly fine going alone!” And there was Roman, the swish of his tail betraying his agitation. “Besides, there’s something suspicious going on here, I’m sure of it.”

“Oh? And what evidence do you have to support your assertion?” 

“... I’ve just got a feeling.” 

Logan made a sound of disgust, and Patton sat up in time to see his friend throw all four hands out in an exasperated gesture. He sleepily rubbed at his eyes, shaking out his mussed-up feathers. 

“Are you tired of camping already, Lo?” 

The Ulgorian exhaled slowly, his ears twitching irritatedly. “No. I simply am uncertain that this venture will prove beneficial. We don’t have the budget to waste time on a vain attempt to soothe superstitious locals.” 

“Don’t be so heartless, Professnore,” Roman snapped, quickly checking his pack for everything he would need while out traversing the woods. “They’re asking for help because they’re worried. Something out there has driven the Humlilts into hiding, for all we know, the livestock could be next!” 

“They suspect the local fauna are being threatened, but that’s only one potential explanation--,” Logan started, and Patton swiftly tuned out the argument, remembering suddenly what he’d intended to check on. He hopped to his feet and checked on his ‘Humlilt bait’-- a small dish with sweet sliced fruit he’d set out.

Humlilts’s were relatively small, timid creatures, hoofed quadruped mammals that stood even shorter than Patton. They weren’t fond of being directly approached, and even initiating eye contact could scare them off, but if they took a liking to someone, they tended to be fiercely loyal. The fact that many had strayed from the nearby town was concerning, no matter the reason.

“Yes!” Patton chirped in glee when the plate proved empty, only a few spots of juice left behind. Behind him, the heated discussion faltered. 

“Something you’d like to share with the team, Feathers?” Roman asked, one of his ridged eyebrows twitching up curiously. Logan frowned at the dish, and Patton quickly replied before he could be lectured on leaving ‘fauna attractants’ out by mistake. 

“I’m one step closer to making a new friend!” he announced gleefully. “Good morning, little critter! Are you still around?” 

There was no response from the forest, but he remained cheerful, his antennae barely flickering. “Aw, feeling shy? I’ll befriend you yet, little critter, just you wait…” 

“Patton,” Logan started. “Do you mean to imply that last night, you intentionally placed food out to lure local creatures to our camp while we are in the middle of trying to track down an unknown, potentially dangerous beast?” 

“Of course not!” Patton responded, picking up the plate to stow it away. Before Logan could relax too much, he continued. “I’ve been leaving snacks out since the first day we made camp!” 

He scrunched his eyes closed to show his happiness, and not at all to avoid the incensed look Logan would be giving him right about now. 

“Have you any idea how dangerous—“ 

“Woah, Lo, it’s a-okay!” Patton hurried to reassure him. “I know for sure that it’s a little hummer and not anything else. The last two sunrises, when I woke up and greeted the day, I would hear it call back, just like the noise Logan said they make! The little critter is following us around, and soon we’ll be best buds, I can feel it.”  

Logan waved a spare hand dismissively, already well into his datalog, muttering as he scoured the articles he had saved for this journey for any mention of on-planet predator animals using mimicry. Roman shuddered his scales in fond exasperation, his tail thumping against Logan’s ankle.   

“Relax, Specs, I’ll be sure to protect us from any malignant beasties.” He paused, and then cast a slightly admonishing glance down at Patton. “That is, so long as there aren’t any more secret surprises you’ve been keeping from us, Pattoncake?”  

“No secrets here! The next time I try to adopt a new member into our little family, I’ll make sure to let you kiddos know in advance,” he chirped with his eyes crinkled. The gleeful expression didn’t fade a bit as his words prompted Roman and Logan to burst into brand new diatribes.  

“Wait, is ‘lure them with sweet snacks’ your usual go-to? Did that work on me--?” 

“Patton, we are not kidnapping local fauna--!” 

Yup, familiar sounds indeed. 

---

The rest of the morning was spent trekking through the woods and filling the air with companionable bickering, but by midday, Roman had found tracks. And then he found more tracks. And finally, he found The Tracks.

Unlike the first few instances, Logan was unable to confidently match the bipedal mammalian prints to any native creature in the area. After some triumphant crowing about his skills, Roman led the way with significantly less chatter, prompting the other two to follow suit as dusk slowly began to fall. 

Patton kept his feathers sleek against him so they wouldn’t brush roughly against the foliage, and made sure his glow was as muted as possible as the sky darkened. He didn’t come on bounty trips often, but every proper Ampen knew how to be stealthy when need be. Some made a whole career out of it!

Between one heavy step and the next, Roman suddenly stilled, holding up a clawed hand to ensure they did the same. His ear cones shifted subtly, searching. The moment stretched, tension so thick it felt stifling, and then--

A slight sound to the left. Movement.

“There!” Roman shouted, and a dark shape flashed past Patton, silhouetted by the moonlight off the pale rock wall behind it. It was big. Definitely not a Humlilt. “Cut it off!” 

Logan was already in motion, spines raised as he held out his staff and barred the creature's way. He flicked the glow light at the top of the staff on and illuminated the outline of the being, which seemed almost fibrous in nature. Patton knew of some planets with mostly chlorophyll-based lifeforms, and this almost seemed to match. The creature had a body erupting with brush and plant matter, and a face of flat wood.

“Drive it this way,” Roman called. “I’ve got the unit ready!” 

It hissed furiously as Logan swung the light closer, and Patton saw the moment it turned its head slightly and realized it was being corralled. It lunged forward in a feint, and then ducked away from Logan’s swing and grabbed the staff, wrestling viciously with the smaller alien for it. The reflected light seemed to shine eerily in the back of its hole-like eyes.

Patton hurried forwards, but he wasn’t close enough to stop the creature from wrenching the staff out of Logan’s grip, knocking the Ulgorian over in the process. Roman shouted, too far away to intervene. Logan shot a few spines, but they weren’t laced and barely seemed to phase the creature. It screamed gutturally as it lifted the staff up, and Patton forgot every promise he’d made to stay out of the way of any quarry larger than him.   

“Stop!” he screeched, throwing his arms out and letting his feathers flare up as bright as they could go. 

The distraction worked; the creature twisted away from Logan to focus on the new element, jolting forward a few steps before distinctly pausing, its shining eyes fixated on Patton. It took another smaller step towards him, tilting what Patton assumed was its head. 

“Little critter!” 

“Wh-- what?” Patton replied, stunned.

“Little critter? ...Good morning, little critter?” the creature chirped again, uncertainly. Every syllable was a perfect imitation of the phrases Patton had called out the three mornings they’d been there, just a little muffled.

The creature dropped to a crouch, and the abruptness of the motion made Patton flinch, startled. As though repentant, it set the staff on the ground slowly, and then made the distinct musical tone of a Humlilt. 

Patton gaped, the pieces clicking into place. Not a Humlit. The Humlit. The one he’d been working so hard to befriend, the one following them around, the one that apparently wasn’t a Humlit at all. 

In the next moment, Roman’s charging footsteps arrived, and all traces of softness vanished from the creature’s demeanor as it rose to its feet with a snarl, turning to face off against Patton’s crewmate. 

This isn’t right, Patton thought, and didn’t wait another moment before inserting himself between the two larger aliens, whistling shrilly. “Wait!” 

At his back, Roman skidded to a halt, incredulous half-formed protests spilling from his mouth. 

At his front, the creature held its aggressive position for a heartbeat longer, and then lowered its hands slightly, stumbling back a step and looking between Patton and Roman with uncertain antsiness. 

“Little critter? Little critter good?” it chirped, and Patton could feel the way Roman and Logan stiffened behind him. 

“Hey, little critter,” Patton said, slowly moving to sit down on the dirt. “I think we got off on the wrong claw. You don’t really want to fight, do you?” 

The creature shuffled anxiously, and Patton tapped the ground behind him. “Roman, why don’t you join me?”  

“Pat, come on,” Roman started, and then grumpily lowered himself to a seated position at Patton’s imploring look.

Across from them, the creature visibly relaxed, head cocking to the side inquisitively. After a moment, it lowered itself into a crouch like before. 

Patton’s antennae fluttered, and his happy glow increased slightly. “Good job! We’re already halfway to being friends, huh?” 

“Good,” the creature echoed, voice still uncertain and so small. “Hurt no?” 

“We won’t hurt you,” Patton replied, and the creature’s head lifted up to look at Roman doubtfully.   

After a moment, Patton heard the click of Roman’s scales flattening out in a show of nonaggression, and the Crav’on sighed. 

“On my honor, I won’t hurt you if you remain peaceable,” he said, extending a hand palm up to symbolize his oath. 

To their surprise, the creature reached out and touched him, grazing the dull talons and poking some of his smaller scales with cautious curiosity. It mumbled something to itself in a language Patton didn’t know, and folded Roman’s fingers into a loose fist before finally releasing him. 

“He’s pretty cool, isn’t he?” Patton whispered conspiratorially, and the creature held a hand out to him in a mirroring of Roman’s earlier gesture. He reached out and put his little clawed fingers on their palm, marvelling at the size difference. “You’re no critter, huh?” 

He turned to the side, the strange alien following his gaze. “Lo, I can hear you taking notes from here. You wanna come say hi?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Logan replied sourly, clasping his hands behind his back. “I simply didn’t wish to startle-- oh!” 

Logan’s eyes went wide as the stranger stalked over, body still low in its crouch. The behavior read as classically predatory, but the curious mumbling of the stranger made it clear that they weren’t acting aggressively. He hesitantly offered one of his own thin-fingered hands, the stranger pressing their palms together as though to compare the shapes. 

“Hello there,” he greeted belatedly. “Can you understand me? I am Logan, and those are Roman and Patton.” 

“Little critter!” the stranger offered enthusiastically, and then dissolved into another string of that unfamiliar language before bounding off and returning with the glow staff in hand. 

Patton could feel the way Roman went tense, but the stranger slowed down as they got closer and then set the staff on the ground a little bit in front of Logan, rolling it a few inches towards him.  

Logan made no move to pick the staff, and it was easy to see why. The fluorescent lights installed in the head of the staff lit the stranger up from below, illuminating the details that they’d missed before.

Four thin, pale limbs were smudged with dirt and grit, the edges of tattered old textiles peeking out from under the carpet of greenery that cloaked them. They could now see that the foliage wasn’t part of them, but a dedicated attempt at camouflage, built up for so long that some of the plants were growing around their shoulders or tangling in their dark hair. Most striking of all, the wooden plate that had covered their face had been knocked slightly askew, revealing half of a round face with big eyes and tiny features.    

“You’re just a fledgeling,” Patton said, something in his chest tightening at the way the child’s gaze flickered between them, nervous but hopeful. The curiosity, the nervousness, it all made sense knowing that this was a youngling.

“No, that’s not just a child,” Roman spoke up, shaken. “That’s… that’s a Human child.” 

Patton and Logan turned to him, shocked, but the child reacted the quickest of all, shooting into a standing position. They clumsily darted back a step as all eyes fell on them, chest rising and falling rapidly. “No! No! No Human, go away!” 

“Kiddo,” Patton tried, but before he could do more than reach out, the child turned on their heel and vanished back into the underbrush. The rustling of their movements quickly faded, leaving the three of them sitting in the clearing in silence. 

“Are you certain?” Logan finally said, rising to his feet and approaching them. “Roman, you’re absolutely sure about this?” 

“I… yeah.” The Crav’on flexed his hand, almost dazed. “I thought they would be more-- I mean, yeah, I’m sure. There’s no mistaking those eyes.” 

“Very well,” Logan nodded, hands already dancing delicately around him as he committed the encounter to memory. “In that case, I suppose we’ll be staying on-planet for a little longer.” 

“Wait, what?” Roman asked, both of them turning to look at the Ulgorian with surprise. 

Logan glanced up at them with a raised brow, knowing and smug. “I don’t believe either of you are the type to leave a semi-feral Deathworlder child alone on a planet where the locals believe them to be a monster. Thus, we are staying to help rectify the situation. Am I incorrect?”

“It’s not that simple,” Roman cautioned, but faltered after a moment. “However… you’re right. We can’t just leave them here. They need help, Human or not.”

“That’s right!” Patton agreed enthusiastically, his feathers ruffling up in excitement. “Looks like we’re getting a new member of the family after all!”