#get from lizard brain back to human brain

[teaboot]

Tell us about your OCs! (If you want.)

omgggggg I just spent my whole lunch break on this

Okay so the spaced-out blonde at the top is Lore. It’s short for Lorelai but she hates that so it’s just Lore. She’s sort of-technically more closely related to Fungi than Animalia, so you could jokingly call her a mushroom.

Lore’s SPECIFIC family is sort of similar to a mycelium network, and the oldest core of that network that sustains all the information from everything it’s connected to is her mom. And I say “mom”, but they have this whole asexual-splitting thing, so no actual sexual dimorphism. Lore is kinda-sorta in her spore stage, like a baby, and while most of her sisters remain underground to lure and drag wandering creatures to their death to be consumed, Lore works at a shitty gas station-convenience store in the middle of nowhere and lives in a shack, for identity crisis reasons.

Len is one of Lore’s many clone-“sister”-twins. He is very very rare in the sense that he is ALSO choosing to wander above-ground like Lore, and has also decided that he’s a He, while the vast majority of their siblings lean closer to what we would call the feminine end of the spectrum. He’s also a huge loser because he named himself Leonard on purpose.

(Their Mom is a She, but primarily due to the identity of Mom and her connection to her many many many many children- she herself doesn’t much care, and isn’t so much a singular identity as she is the nerve center lizard brain of a hive in the incomprehensible sprawling body of an eldritch horror that is only slightly overbearing about Lore’s life choices.)

Len respects Lore’s choices not to eat sapient creatures and sleeps on her couch because he can’t be arsed to get a job and usually just gets fired for not showing up anyways. (His grip on human time is sorta fucky.)

Crow is the human wife of the Bird King and was initially a mortal woman until they tied the knot about a hundred fifty years back. They’re going through a bit of a rocky patch right now though so she’s been booted from the netherworld. They haven’t really broken up, though. It’s complicated.

Buddy with the “???” is sorta weird. Len calls it “Dude”. Lore is pretty sure it’s a spirit of death or something, but she isn’t quite sure why it’s there. It sort of just appeared in the yard one day and has been hanging out for about a year since. He/she/it/they/ze/xe answers to pretty much anything, and isn’t creepy or evil they way you’d expect it to be despite looking like a mass of pitch-black flickering smoke wrapped around a skeleton. It mostly seems to just wander around the woods. It doesn’t talk or try to communicate much, but Lore figures she can tell when it’s in a bad mood because it steals her and Len’s pajamas and wears them around while moping.

Lore is. Doing her best about it

(Dung isn’t in the picture yet, but she’s about to become a Problem)

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I love therapy, highly recommend for everyone. I learned a new coping skill, and she let me go five minutes early to dance the anxiety away. 10/10 experience

[gaykarstaagforever]

YouTube has this thing now called YouTube Playables (great name as usual, guys; it's not a children's snack pack), that are basically in-app "Flash games"-style things that are just enough game to keep you watching ads.

The ones of these that aren't direct ripoffs of owned IP (very specifically Zuma) are barebones exercises in that bog-standard FTP addictive mobile gaming loop we all know and hate but also LOVE, minus the in-app purchases (for the time being). Like, shallow systems that are fun for exactly 30 minutes, then get stupidly hard so you'll pay to win, though you can't do that yet, so...kind of pointless.

...I still spent FOUR HOURS playing these, because they tapped into my primitive lizard brain's desire to try and master an utterly meaningless task and then feel undooly smug about it.

I didn't get any ads, because I'm a stooge that pays real money to Google every month for this, because once you go adless, you CANNOT go back. Which kind of negates the whole point of these, as addictive time-wasters that keep you glued to the platform and its commercials? But I already pay for YouTube and STILL got caught in these, so I suppose everything is going according to YouTube's plan either way, and I need meaningful human relationships.

But THAT isn't going to happen any time soon! So let me waste another evening on these by reviewing some crap garbage games for idiots that no one cares about, on Tumblr dot com!

1. Totemia: Cursed Marbles

It's Zuma. That's it. With a couple minor tweaks that make it harder and more annoying.

Just license Zuma, YouTube. I think you can afford the, what, $25 that would cost atm?

2. Sword Play

An on-rails sword slashing game (you don't control the movement, just the slashing), and you kill plastic doll guys before they kill you.

At some point they get projectiles that move really fast, that you can only destroy via specific directional QTEs that don't register properly half the time, because this is all relative finger smearing across the screen.

It was fun before that. The guys fall apart specific to how you slash them. That's something.

3. Dessert DIY

This one sucks. You're just picking from very limited options, then doing specific motions to trigger animations that create desserts that don't even look much like the promo art. People request different things, but early game all they ask for is "whatever you want to make" and "do one out of poop with bugs on it to make someone I hate throw up."

And then there's an animation of someone accepting what is obviously poop with bugs on it from their sworn enemy, they eat it anyway, then vomit.

The only fun part about this is the shameless inclusion of NPCs that look like celebrities, specifically Billie Eilish, Kanye West, and Donald Trump.

If you want to make a poop ice cream cone with bugs on it and feed it to Trump until he vomits all over his desk, this is the game for you. Otherwise, this is meh even for one of these meh games.

4. Bowmasters

Dueling Angry Birds, but you have no control of the camera and it focuses on you so you have to trial-and-error the degree of angle and throwing force to figure out how to hit and kill your opponent before they hit and kill you.

There are many colorful pop culture-inspired combatants to unlock, with a huge variety of projectiles of different weights, sizes, and behaviors. This is the most "very nearly a real, good game" one of these.

...Except that the level progression forces you to do Bonus Rounds, and one of those is "knock fruit off the head of an opponent without hitting them, and you have to do this like 5 times in a row, and we move you further away from them another 30 yards every round, and you have to use a wildly different unique projectile every round, and you get 3 chances, and that includes if you miss entirely."

It is basically impossible to do this, because your ever-changing location makes calculating arcs and force, with the ever-changing projectiles, impossible, in this limited amount of attempts. It turns into grinding it out until RNG randomly makes you win.

Which is a shame, because otherwise, this is fun. But you WILL get stuck on a stupid fruit round and stop playing this.

5. Mob Control

You have a cannon that launches blue guys. The NPC opponent does red. You both are trying to bumrush the other's base, taking advantage of buttons and switches and bonus gates that speed you up or slow you down and multiply your number of guys. Guys annihilate each-other when they run into each-other, so you need to overwhelm Red before they overwhelm you.

It's fun until it gets so fast that it becomes a chore to manage where precisely to launch guys specifically to annihilate other guys.

6. Merge Master

This goddamn game. This was 3.5 hours of my 4 hour playtime.

You have a grid board, with you at the bottom and an opponent at the top. You both have an army of warriors and dinosaurs, and a team HP bar. You click go, the warriors fire projectiles and the dinosaurs melee the nearest enemy, and last man standing wins.

Before each round, you can arrange the placement of your army, and use money you won from the last rounds to buy more warriors and dinosaurs. But the kicker is, you can combine like warriors and dinosaurs to make more powerful units, which you keep at the end of every round. They don't gain XP or anything, but as you make more money, you can buy more 1st-level units (that's all you can buy), and gradually combine them and then combine the combinations, and on and on and on, making incredibly powerful new units. And you need a mix of low-level and high-level units to have enough melee dinosaurs and projectile-throwers to overwhelm high-level enemy units, or draw fire away from your own, against the ever-changing enemy army each round.

It's a process of slowly adding more units and combining them to make stronger and stronger units, and as many of them as you can get, accounting for the limited board space. Also the price of units rises exponentially each round, so you may have 1 trillion gold, but at this point a new 1st-level dinosaur costs 245 billion.

I couldn't stop with this. It just got me. I wanted to see new exciting high-level warriors and dinosaurs, and see how fast I could take the other army down. There's more than zero strategy at work here, and battles can vary substantially from round to round, depending on what mix of units the enemy brings to the board.

It's still a rudimentary Flash-esque game, and very much akin to those shitty mobile boss rush games that raid our shadow legends. But it's not PTW yet, and the graphics are a charming and distorted replica of early 2000s 3D games, like Age of Mythology or GTA 3. It felt like something, for awhile.

It isn't, and I wasted valuable battery charge on this stupid shit. But I was having fun. And sometimes, that's enough.

...And posting about it here. It's something to talk about that isn't the world eating itself.

And we all need that sometimes.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Hello!! Could I request an angsty/fluff fic between Remmick and a reader that is getting used to him being a vampire? They found out recently and now they are adapting? Thank you so much keep up the great writing!!

Still trustworthy||Remmick x GN!Reader

Summary-Remmick never Told you that he was a vampire and now after accidentally cutting your finger you learn the truth and learn how to adapt to him.

Word count-2.5k

@abriefnirvana @fuckoffbard

A/n I kinda went off the request a bit I’m sorry it’s still good tho

I was also inspired by that one scene in the vampire diaries when Elena accidentally cuts herself

It starts with a cut.

Small. Barely noticeable. Just the edge of a kitchen knife nicking your fingertip when you’re slicing tomatoes.

You hiss, more from surprise than pain.

Remmick is behind you, halfway through pouring wine. He stills completely.

You don’t notice at first—your attention on the faucet, washing the blood away. It’s already clotting. No big deal.

“Shit,” you mutter. “I’m fine. Just stupid.”

Still no answer.

You glance over your shoulder.

Remmick’s not moving. Not a twitch. One hand grips the neck of the wine bottle, the other clenched tight at his side. His face has gone… blank. Too blank.

“Rem?” you ask, confused.

He lifts his eyes to yours.

And something inside you freezes.

His pupils are blown wide, nearly swallowing the irises. His breath has gone shallow. Sharp. Almost panting.

“What the hell—“

You instinctively step back, fingers still dripping faintly red. The scent of copper is faint, but it hits the room like perfume.

“Remmick?” you repeat, slower now.

His jaw tightens. He sets the bottle down with almost mechanical control, every movement deliberate. Too careful. Like he’s holding himself in place with everything he has.

“You need to leave,” he says, voice hoarse.

“What—?”

“Go to the bedroom. Shut the door. Please.”

Your stomach drops. “Remmick, what’s going on?”

He turns away from you—violently, like looking hurts.

His shoulders shake. Not with pain. Not even with restraint.

With hunger.

You see it now.

You smell it. The blood. It’s not even much—but the room is different. Like the air thickened around you.

Your brain is scrambling for logic, for sense. But your instincts know before your thoughts catch up.

You take another step back. Cold creeping up your spine like a whisper.

He’s gripping the edge of the counter now, knuckles white. You’ve never seen him like this. Not even close.

He always had perfect control. Always.

“Remmick,” you whisper. “Talk to me. What is this?”

He swallows hard. Then again.

When he finally turns his head—only slightly—you see them.

His teeth.

Elongated. Sharpened. Not bared like a threat, but unmistakable.

You stop breathing.

He sees it—your stillness. Your silence.

Sees the moment you realize that he’s not quite human.

His face crumples.

“I never meant for you to find out like this.”

The world tilts.

This isn’t real.

It’s a joke. A dream. A delusion—

But your heart is pounding too loud. Your hand stings where you cut it. And the man you’ve been waking up beside for months is standing in front of you with fangs and trembling restraint and eyes like a wounded animal.

“You’re—” Your voice breaks. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s the way he says it that makes it real.

Not with malice. Not even shame.

Just grief.

Like he knew, eventually, this would be the end of everything.

You stumble back a step, and it’s automatic. Not even fear—just the lizard part of your brain begging you to put distance between you and a predator.

He doesn’t follow.

Of course he doesn’t.

He’s still gripping the counter like it’s the only thing keeping him from doing something monstrous.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. “I would never—”

“You can, though,” you snap. It comes out harsher than you mean it. “Don’t lie to me, Remmick. Not now.”

His face hardens—only slightly. “I’ve never lied to you. I just… didn’t tell you. Yet.”

You almost laugh. “You drink blood.”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“I was turned in the 5th century not long after the Christians came to my land and converted my people.”

Your breath leaves you like you’ve been punched.

He’s older than you.

Older than you ever thought possible.

You clutch the edge of the sink. You’re shaking. You don’t know if it’s rage, terror, betrayal, or some mix of all three.

He stays silent. He lets you feel it. Doesn’t try to talk over your panic.

That somehow makes it worse. Because he’s not denying it. He’s not chasing you down to convince you he’s harmless.

He’s letting you choose.

That’s when the tears sting your eyes.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” you ask.

“Yes.” No hesitation. “I was waiting for the right moment.”

“There is no right moment for this,” you whisper.

“No.” He nods. “But I still hoped I’d find one.”

You stare at him.

Not the man you love. Not right now.

Right now he’s a stranger in the same skin.

Something ancient, restrained, dangerous—and heartbreakingly sad.

“Do you feel it?” you ask suddenly. “Right now? My blood?”

He closes his eyes. “Yes.”

“Do you want it?”

He doesn’t lie.

“Yes.”

The room goes still. All you hear is the clock ticking, and the distant hum of the fridge.

And your heartbeat.

Loud. So loud.

He hears it. You know he does.

He’s always heard it.

You turn your face away.

“I need space.”

“I’ll go,” he says immediately. “I’ll stay at the old place.”

You nod. You can’t look at him again.

He leaves quietly.

No door slam. No dramatic last look.

Just the soft click of the latch and the sound of your own heartbeat in the silence he leaves behind.

You don’t move for a long time.

You stand in the kitchen with the tiny cut on your finger stinging under the faucet, and your legs locked like if you move, the truth will catch up to you.

It already has.

The first night is the hardest.

You leave the bedroom door open out of habit.

You think about texting him.

I’m okay.

I’m not okay.

Please tell me this is a dream.

Please tell me you still love me.

None of them get typed. None of them get sent.

You turn over in bed again and again. The pillow smells like him. The sheets feel colder than usual.

You don’t cry until three in the morning.

You don’t stop until five.

The second day is worse, because there’s no shock left to pad the grief.

You wake up to sunlight through the blinds and it feels wrong. Like too much light is hitting a world that’s cracked open and bleeding underneath.

You sit on the couch and think about every moment that now feels like a lie.

The way he used to press his nose to your neck like he was breathing you in. The way he knew when you were getting sick before you did. The way he always ran warm somehow, like magic.

It wasn’t magic.

It was blood.

You curl up under a blanket and stare at the window all day.

You want to be angry. You want to scream, to break something, to call him names that would hurt.

But you just sit there. Hollow.

And you miss him.

God, you miss him.

By the third night, you’ve stopped trying to sort it out.

You’re just tired.

You don’t know what you’re grieving: the man you thought he was, or the comfort of not knowing the truth.

Maybe both.

You’re lying on the couch again, wrapped in that same blanket, when you hear something shift on the front porch.

Not a knock. Just the faint scuff of boots.

You freeze.

You know it’s him.

It’s a full minute before you stand up. Before you walk to the door, slow and heavy. You don’t open it.

You just press your palm to the wood. Like maybe he’ll feel it.

“I don’t know if I’ll be here when you come back.”

“I know. But I’ll come back anyway.”

You say nothing.

But you don’t tell him to go.

The next morning, there’s no sign he was there at all. Just a tiny wet mark on the wood from where he must’ve leaned his head.

You touch it.

It’s gone by the time you blink.

But something in you softens. Just a little.

The fourth night, he knocks.

Once. Quiet. Like he’s testing the world.

You’re already sitting on the couch, wrapped tight in the same blanket.

You don’t move. You don’t speak.

You just look at the door.

And then you do something you didn’t expect.

You whisper.

“Come in.”

The door clicks open.

You don’t know why you said it. Your heart is slamming in your chest. Your body screams at you to run.

But he steps inside like he’s afraid to break something—and maybe he is.

And now…

Remmick’s standing at the threshold of the living room, coat half-unbuttoned, boots tracking in mud on the rug. He hasn’t moved since he walked in.

You’re on the couch, knees drawn to your chest, the blanket bunched in your lap like a shield. You’re not cold, but your hands are clenched tight in the fabric.

He looks at you like he’s waiting for something.

Maybe permission to speak. Maybe permission to leave.

Instead, you say quietly, “You fed.”

His lips press into a tight line.

“I did,” he replies.

You nod, barely, and try to keep your voice steady. “You’re still warm.”

He’s not supposed to be. Not usually. But after feeding, he flushes a little—almost human.

Remmick doesn’t answer that. Just takes a slow step forward and stops again when your fingers twitch.

Your pulse hammers in your ears, traitorous and loud.

He can hear that, you think.

He always can.

He always could.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks, voice soft, like he already knows the answer and doesn’t want to hear it.

Your throat tightens.

No, you want to say. Stay. Please. Don’t make me do this alone.

But your body remembers what your heart keeps trying to forget.

The first time you saw him bare his fangs.

The way he growled—actually growled—when someone brushed against you in the bar.

The look in his eyes when you bled, just a little, and how he froze like every atom of him was screaming.

He didn’t hurt you. He’s never hurt you.

But he could.

And that knowledge coils in your stomach like cold iron.

“I don’t want you to go,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes. “But I don’t know how to be near you yet.”

He nods slowly. Like that hurts—but not more than it should.

Remmick takes a few steps forward and kneels on the floor in front of you, careful, deliberate, like you’re a wounded animal and he’s trying not to startle you.

Not touching. Not even close enough to.

“I’ll sit here,” he says. “If that’s okay.”

You nod again.

Silence stretches between you like a tightrope.

He doesn’t fidget. Doesn’t breathe, even. Just watches you with that quiet reverence that used to make your heart race for all the right reasons.

Now it just makes you ache.

“I’m not scared of you,” you finally say. “I’m scared of what I don’t understand.”

“That’s fair.” He swallows hard. “What do you want to know?”

You hesitate.

There are a hundred questions. A thousand.

How do you feel when you bite someone?

Can you smell my blood right now?

Do you want it?

But what comes out is smaller. Softer.

“Do you ever wish you hadn’t told me?”

He blinks. His expression doesn’t change but his shoulders stiffen like he’s been struck.

“No,” he says immediately. “Never.”

Your gaze finally lifts to his. You expect pity or guilt, maybe that practiced calm he wears like armor.

But what you see instead is fear.

Not of you. For you.

“You deserve the truth,” he says, voice low and tight. “Even if it means losing you.”

Your breath catches.

He’s terrified, too.

That realization cracks something open inside you.

You study him in the low light. His jaw, sharp and tense. The soft dark shadow under his eyes. The way he’s holding himself back from you—not because he wants to, but because he knows you need it.

Because he doesn’t trust himself either.

“I miss you,” you murmur.

He closes his eyes. “I miss you too.”

Slowly, you shift forward on the couch. Not close enough to touch. Just a few inches.

It feels like a mile.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admit. “How to be near you and not be afraid sometimes.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” he says. “You don’t owe me that.”

“I’m not pretending.” You pause. “I’m just learning.”

Remmick looks at you, eyes shining faintly with something raw and aching.

“Then I’ll learn with you.”

You want to reach for him. You almost do.

Instead, you say, “What does it feel like… when you feed?”

He blinks. You’ve never asked before.

He takes a breath, just for the motion of it.

“It’s not like hunger,” he says slowly. “It’s more… need. And noise. Everything sharpens. I feel everything—sound, scent, your heartbeat… it’s like drowning.”

You don’t interrupt. You let him keep going.

“And then when I feed, it’s quiet. The world gets quiet. I don’t feel like I’m going to lose control. It’s the only time I feel… human.”

Your heart thuds. “Does it hurt them?”

“No. Not when I do it right. But that’s why I go to the clinic. No risk. No fear. No guilt.” He pauses. “I’d starve before I took it from someone who didn’t want to give.”

You believe him.

You do.

But the fear isn’t logical. It’s primal. And it sits just under your skin like splinters.

Still, your body starts to loosen. Just a little.

Your hand falls out of the blanket.

Remmick’s eyes flick to it—then back to your face.

You see the restraint in every line of his body.

And you reach out.

Just a few inches. Your fingers brush his.

He goes perfectly still. Not tense. Just reverent.

Like your touch is holy.

Like it could save him.

You don’t pull away.

“Your hands are warm,” you murmur.

“I won’t be, in a few hours.”

“That’s okay.”

You inch closer.

Now you’re only a foot apart. He’s still kneeling, and you’re still guarded—but the space feels different. Less like a wall. More like a boundary you’re both respecting.

You slide your hand into his fully.

He closes his eyes like he might fall apart from that alone.

“I want to be able to touch you without flinching,” you whisper. “I want to kiss you and not wonder what’s behind your teeth.”

He swallows.

“I want that too,” he says, voice thick. “But I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

You lean in.

Slow. Slow.

And press your forehead to his.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the day you found out.

“I love you,” he says, voice cracking. “Even if you never let me close again.”

You tilt your head, just slightly, and brush your lips against his.

It’s not deep. Not urgent.

Just real.

He doesn’t kiss back not fully. Just lets it happen, lets you lead, lets himself be chosen.

And when you pull back, your heart isn’t racing out of fear.

It’s just beating.

“I do love you,” you whisper. “Even if I’m still figuring out what that means.”

A flicker of something wild and gentle flashes in his eyes.

“I know,and that’s okay too. Take all the time you need.” he replies.

Later, you fall asleep with your hand in his. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even shift his weight. He stays sitting, holding your hand like it’s a lifeline.

And maybe it is.

Not for you—

but for him.

[monstersflashlight]

Monster smash (part 3)

A/N: Hi lovelies! I finally decided how this one is going to play out and who is going to be the main romantic partner (or partners) in this story. So now you can see it’s minotaur x dragon x lizard-woman x human, I’m all for a good poly relationship and I want to explore this one with y’all, hope you are on board, too. You can read part 1 here and part 2 here. Enjoy!

Minotaur x dragon x lizard-woman x fem!reader || sfw

“You are all monsters…” You let out in a whisper, all of their faces impassive as they stare down at you. You blink slowly, still trying to process.

“Yes, we are, honey. I thought you knew, you were so excited to be here I just assumed…” The lady from the grocery store, the fucking scary demon in front of you, is being so careful and cute and it’s making your head hurt. She’s so nice, but looks so scary… Your brain can’t fully comprehend what is all that about.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” the big orc says, blinking slowly at her as she hits his arm.

He lets out a high yelp and that, of all things, breaks you. You let out a manic laughter, your whole body moving with the force of it, tears rolling down your eyes as you feel like you are descending into madness.

And then the tears turn into sobbing, and you are almost convinced you are insane. Totally insane, and everyone is looking at you like you are, indeed, insane. The grocery lady offers you some tissues, and you take them, your breathing labored between sobs. You feel a hand on your back, rubbing soft circles, and when you turn to the side and see your dragon neighbor, you can’t even react accordingly. You stare at them, their big body looming over you as they pass you another tissue.

“Are you okay?” Their voice is soft but with a hint of fire under it (get it? Fire because they’re a dragon). You shake your head, but your sobs stop, only lonely tears running down your cheeks at that point.

You are sitting on the floor, with a dragon consoling you and a bunch of monsters staring you like you are the weird one. Which… maybe you are. In that particular group, you are the weird one. That realization leaves you feeling a bit better, taking a deep breath and wiping away the few tears still clinging to your eyelashes.

“I think I’m going to go,” you whisper, shaking your head and avoiding your best friend’s eyes.

“Let me walk you home,” your minotaur landlord says, his voice soft as he helps you to your feet. You let him, your body and mind too tired to fight him or anyone else. You need to sleep, to process… You might be in shock.

You walk alongside him when the dragon yells: “Wait for me! I’m leaving, too!”

They rush behind you two, a big smile on their face. You have to bite your lip to avoid chuckling. They are fucking cute in their dragon form, even cutter than their human one, and you might have a bit of a crush on them. You had it before when you only knew about their human characteristics and now… Now you think they are even more special. And you lowkey dig that.

You are definitely in shock.

They stop at the door, and you watch in fascination as they turn to their human selves. You think your mouth is open, but you can’t get it to close as you watch them change completely in front of you.

The walk home is silent, their presence making your heart a bit faster, but not in fear exactly. You feel some kind of anticipation, as if the idea of them being monsters is not as weird as you thought. You think about all the weird quirks you’ve seen before. The dragon hoard, the weird way in which your landlord always played with his septum, now replicated with the big ring you knew his minotaur form had. It all makes sense in a weird way.

All but one thing… your best friend lying to you.

They stop in front of your door, both of them staring at you as if you are going to start crying again at any second, but you don’t. Your brain feels weirdly calm as you say your goodbyes and watch them walk down the hall. The dragon sends a wink your way, and you smile at them. Your landlord only grunts on his way down the stairs, and you can’t stop yourself from checking his ass.

You walk into your apartment with your head pounding and your body feeling weird. You have to sit down and process what’s going to happen next… But you have no idea.

“The best way to deal with shit is going to sleep,” you say out loud, laughing at yourself as you get out of your silly costume and fall face first onto your mattress.

Your dreams are plagued with monsters and heat, and you wake up with a jolt. You rush through your morning routine as if the world wasn’t upside down. As if you didn’t discover the existence of monsters less than 24h. The wonders of capitalism, your life might be in shambles, but you have to get dressed and go to work either way. And that’s exactly what you have to do.

You are almost out the door when you saw the tiny piece of paper slipped under your door that reads: Meet me for tea?

You know who wrote that, she wrote those exact words a thousand times before, and you always said yes. But now… Now you aren’t sure if you want to meet her. You aren’t sure if she deserves you to meet her. She lied to you, and you are still mad about it. You talked about everything and anything, you shared your deepest, darkest secrets with her, and you thought she did the same with you… But she didn’t. And it hurts. It hurts so bad you want to scream. But instead you take the piece of paper and break it into dozens of tiny pieces.

You exit your door at the same time her door opens. She stares at you, and you stare at her. It’s so weird to see her back in her human form. She sees the mess of tiny papers on the floor and she sighs, letting out a soft: “Darling, please…”

“Don’t call me darling,” you tell her, an accusatory finger pointed in her direction.

“I can explain everything, please. Just one cup of tea. And then I’ll leave you alone,” the plea in her tone makes your insides turn, your resolution melting as her eyes flash yellow in front of you.

Ugh, you the that she’s your weakness. You didn’t have enough crushing on your best friend, but on top of that she had to be a lizard-woman… How the fuck was your life like that?

“Ugh, fine.”

You hope you don’t regret it.

[possibly-god]

Threshold: Unlocking the Good Ending

Happy Threshold Day, everyone! Here's how that nonsense (and beyond) could have gone differently if Tom Paris had chosen different dialogue options. Inspired by this post by @starship-butterfly

Tom talks his way back into the Warp 10 test another way – he and Harry figured it out together, they should test it together. Plus, two heads are better than one if something goes wrong, and there’s no one he trusts more to have his back.

Just as before, right as everyone’s praising them as heroes, Tom goes down. At first everyone assumes it’s the Doctor’s “2% chance” coming to pass… and then Harry goes out too.

They babble and reminisce together in the surgical bay. They clasp hands as they die and embrace as they reawaken. They butt heads and bond as they mutate – Harry rips Tom’s tongue from his mouth, Tom helps Harry not to choke as his detaches.

Between the two of them, busting out is no problem – for them, at least. Before the Doctor can get them anywhere near the warp core, Tom and Harry are out of Sick Bay, in the shuttle, and off God knows where.

When the crew finally tracks the duo down, they’ve gone full amphibian – including froggy sex-swapping adaptations, because the lizard babies must exist in every timeline (let’s be real, “turn into frogs and have frog babies with your bestie” is such a Harry Kim thing to happen).

As does Chakotay going “fuck them kids” – against Tuvok’s advisement, Janeway agrees to keep the incident classified.

And then, of course, the Doctor spills the beans (“Any other symptoms?” “I don’t know, my abdomen is cramping something awful…” “That’s hardly surprising, you did just give birth.” “…what.”).

The second they’re unsupervised, Harry is dragging Tom to the shuttle bay (Tom's on board, he just doesn't want them getting caught) because they can work through that mountain of weird feelings later but right now Babies.

Meanwhile everyone on Voyager is freaking the hell out because they just stole the fuCKING SHUTTLE AGAIN-

The second they touch back down on Voyager, Tom is out of the shuttle and straight-up decking Chakotay before he can say “what the hell” and having strong words with Janeway when she tries to object (Tuvok coolly decides not to get involved).

Harry meanwhile is sprinting to the med bay (he’s not risking the transporter with neonates of an unrecorded species) with an armful of deeply bewildered salamanders.

A temporary habitat is set up in Sick Bay while their care needs are established – including enrichment and education, because as a brain scan and mind meld determine, these kiddos are indeed fully sapient (and very confused and scared by the events of the past few days).

The crew asks about reverting them back to baseline human, but the Doctor informs them there’s nothing to revert – his method works off the subject having been human at some point, and these kids have never not been squishy.

They can’t stay in Sick Bay forever, of course, and will require regular care wherever they end up – ultimately, it’s decided the whole family will move into a vacant officers’ quarters, with Engineering converting the common area into a tank/terrarium.

Of course, this new cohabitation situation means confronting that mountain of weird feelings – after a rather fraught period of counseling, parenting establishment, and romantic experimentation, Tom and Harry eventually settle into a mostly-platonic partnership.

Amid said period, the kids finally get names – meet Philo Jonah, Micah Drew, and Jamie Kris Paris-Kim (after esteemed Starfleet captains, tweaked for gender neutrality – even if they can guess the kids’ sexes now, there’s no guarantee they’ll stay that way).

Harry with the babies:

Tom with the babies:

Whenever both Harry and Tom have to be on duty (or just need a break), other crewmates are often roped into babysitting (Chakotay volunteers whenever he can, mostly out of guilt – when he can’t himself, he can usually talk B’elanna into it).

As “evolved beings”, the triplets’ intellectual development is accelerated – when they’re about 2 years old, they start going to lessons and holodeck playdates with Naomi Wildman, and later the Borg kids.

While the Paris-Kims prefer a warm, damp environment, amid the regular chaos on Voyager it’s discovered that they can withstand just about anything due to the nature of the Threshold mutation (essentially, having briefly existed at every point in the universe at Warp 10, the human body attempted to adapt to all of them, settling on Extremophilic Amphibian as Most Likely To Survive Everywhere) – a trait which comes in handy in some particular disasters.

Language is an interesting challenge with the triplets – they can understand Federation Standard, but can’t vocalize it, so they have to come up with and teach their own chirp-based analogues (coding “Pakimese” into the ship’s translator becomes Micah’s pet project).

Their physical growth is also unusual, quite different from their parents (it seems being born fishy is more stable than having fishiness thrust upon one), as they slowly develop more humanoid arms and thoraces while never showing hind leg stumps – by adulthood they’ve nearly gone full mermaid.

To help the kids get around the ship without having to crawl everywhere, Harry and B’elanna develop mobility devices for them, creating a sort of hybrid wheelchair-segway that allows the kids to lie forward in their natural posture rather than sit backwards in a chair.

Harry gets a promotion. This has nothing to do with Threshold, it just needs to happen.

Tom’s initially reluctant to pursue a relationship with B’elanna with his family obligations, but Harry eventually encourages him. When the two get married, Harry and the kids are Tom’s groomsmen, and when B’elanna gets pregnant, family swim time is one of the first planned activities.

Once contact is reestablished with the Alpha Quadrant, it takes Harry a few tries before he works up the courage to tell his family about their new additions. It takes John and Mary a while to fully grasp their origins (“Who’s the lucky girl?” “Um… Tom?”), but they adore their grandkids from day one.

Tom, meanwhile, staunchly refuses to inform his father about his grandchildren, not wanting him to mess them up too – when Voyager finally reaches Earth, Owen Paris damn near has a heart attack when he finds Tom with 2 partners and 4 kids.

In adulthood, Philo becomes a geoengineer and joins one of the first permanent survey outposts in the Delta Quadrant, reconnecting with and later marrying her childhood friend Mezoti. Micah settles on Earth as a xenolinguistics professor, programming fantasy holonovels in their spare time. Jamie is the only one to join Starfleet as an officer, studying astrogation and becoming the first “human” in Cetacean Ops.

[whiskis]

Monster smash (part 2)

A/N: Hi lovelies! Welcome to this new-ish blog, I thought a good way to move was to post part 2 of this story y’all loved so much.

Multiple monsters x fem!reader || sfw, funny situation

You wake up to the sound of voices. Many voices, some grumbly and some other very deep, inhumanly deep. But there’s also clicking sounds, like the ones little forest creatures make when you get too close. You don’t even remember what happened. Did you faint?

“Honey… Are you all right?” A deep voice asks as your eyes flutter open, they feel incredibly heavy. There’s a lady with too many teeth in front of you… She’s scary enough that you close your eyes instantly, breathing hard as you try not to panic. And then the memories come back rushing through your mind.

The monster smash!

The person in front of you with thousands of pointy teeth is… the grocery lady! Shit, shit, shit… What did you get yourself into? Your brain is running so fast you feel almost dizzy, your body threatening to shut up again, but you breathe through your nose until you feel calm enough to re-open your eyes. The lady is not there anymore, but the tech dragon from your building is.

They are staring down at you with slow blinking eyes and a tiny smile, their nostrils flaring as if smelling your emotions. Can they do that? Can dragons smell emotions? Shit, what if they can? What are they able to smell? Can they smell your fear? Shit, could they smell that you didn’t shower for a week back when you had a big project at work? Oh, shit… Now you have to rethink about all the encounters you had with all of them.

“Pull back, you big dragon, let the lad have some space!” Someone else reprimands, pulling the dragon away with a chuckle. You only see a big gray hand but you can’t see who it belongs to, they move too fast to be caught by human eyes. What the fuck?

How can this be possible? How the fuck did you find yourself in that situation? Surrounded by monsters in a speed dating event… For fucks sake what was even your life anymore?

You try to sit up, but your brain is not agreeing with that decision and you fall back. You brace for impact, but you don’t land on the hard floor, but a soft surface that reminds you a lot to somebody’s lap. You look behind you and stare into thin vertical pupils that make your blood run a bit colder. That’s, that’s…

“You are a lizard woman!” You say a bit too loud if the flinch of everyone around you is any indication. But you don’t care, your confusion and hint of fear are rapidly replaced by indignation. You know that face, you know those eyes. You know them very, very well. “We shared tea many times and you didn’t tell me you were a lizard woman!?” Your tone is almost as angry as Bella Swan when she discovered Jacob named her daughter like the lake Ness monster.

Shit, was the lake Ness monster real? Was Twilight based in real events?! You have so many questions your brain can’t stop spinning.

“Darling, I-” Your friend from 4B tries to argue, but you are not having it. You sit up straight and get help from your landlord to get up, the minotaur landlord. The minotaur landlord that has no shirt on and has a very hairy chest you lowkey want to bury your face in. Focus, you remind yourself.

And the realization hits you like a brick.

You live in a monster building.

All your neighbors are monsters.

The one you considered your best friend is a lizard-woman.

What the actual fuck?

A/N: Reminder that you can read all my other stories back in @monstersflashlight (all organized in this masterlist), thanks for reading!

[sparrowlucero]

would life as a larrow suck? like if you could choose to be isekai'd as a larrow rn would you take it up? what about the other way around, would a larrow want to be us

It doesn't really suck anymore than life as a human does, but a lot of humans would see it as bad or stressful in certain ways:

Larrow imago usually only live about 30 years, and it's not super abnormal for them to die before 20. They're also very tiny (like on average the size of a button quail or a smallish parrot) so compared to humans they seem pretty fragile.

Their society doesn't consistently exist; eggs are produced, hatched and grow up at roughly the same time, and all the larrow of a single generation usually die off entirely before new ones emerge from the ocean (with an occasional outlier). That next generation isn't exactly the same culture as before, just formed through similar needs and off of the technology left behind by the last. their whole 'rome falls every few decades' set up would probably be very offputting to most alien cultures

They have next to no health care; larrow learn medical care by themselves, for themselves, and they practice surgery and similarly extreme procedures on themselves quite regularly.

Larrow are basically fine not socializing and will sometimes go years without talking to one another; it's to a degree where even anti social humans may be stressed and lonely. They also don't really show a ton of concern for other people and animals, empathy is more of a philosophical idea than this totally innate thing.

The world they live has very extreme storms; their average low winds would be difficult for a human to walk around in. They don't have houses but public access "storm shelters" which, from a human perspective, look woefully incompetent as they're full of holes and look more like animal nests than a "real" building

On the other hand:

Larrow are adapted to live in an environment with constantly moving air and are instinctively adverse to areas with stagnant air, as they struggle to breathe in it and it can make them really sick. Human buildings seem really gross to them in the same way rot or mold does to us

The way humans are constantly trailing each other and actively trying to initiate touching and interaction all the time feels both animal-like and weird/scammy/aggressive to them, our social behavior is their "about to get mugged" behavior

complex nest building in constant storms was like their main evolutionary pressure to Get Good with the brain power, so they're very technologically minded in a way humans just aren't. They could open up a human car or computer (or indeed a body) for the first time and understand how it worked back to front. This is all just architecture to their lizard brains. Which means humans needing to go to school to study this stuff sounds like, really stupid to a larrow.

the whole idea that humans will bribe other humans to knock them out and operate on them sounds like a horror show. What if the doctors got bored and left? What if it turned out they wanted to hurt you while you were asleep? If letting other people chop you up is a normal cultural quirk why do they keep making scary movies about it

the way humans have all these complex daily networks of giving things up and gaining them is confusing and stressful. they're kind of like that boar in this tumblr post

This is all to say many humans would see larrow as living short lonely survivalist lives in ramshackle houses in a dying culture too selfish to care about each other, where many larrow would see humans as spending most of their lives in gross little prisons being so incompetent at everything that they'll die of minor ailments like "tumors" and "internal bleeding" if other humans don't randomly take pity on them.

Not to say some people wouldn't be interested or jealous about aspects of each other's lives... "what if you could just fly alone for weeks at a time and work on the first draft of your novel" would obviously be appealing to a lot of humans, and getting to root through a world of completely alien tech and biology would make a larrow feel like it was one of these caddisflies

[marlynnofmany]

One More Earth Animal -- Part Two

(Part One is here)

Fernando Hwan Tengku-Jones was expecting a cat. His friend on the colony world had said they were sending one that somebody’d left behind — poor thing! —and Fern couldn’t wait to give it a good home. He’d already cat-proofed his quarters as best he could. Fragile things were put away, his reading lamp was secured to the bedside table, and he’d grabbed a few cardboard boxes from the recycle stash that would make good hidey-holes. A litter box should be available somewhere in this space station’s commerce sector — he’d been here before. He could check after the drop-off. As much as he would have liked to get that set up first, he wasn’t in charge of the schedule.

His Frillian crewmates were curious about the companion animal that the captain was allowing him to bring onboard. He’d spent the last half of the trip telling them every story about cats he could think of. Each of them rippled their frills in patient disinterest, but he didn’t mind. They’d be won over by the adorable kitty soon enough.

When the ship docked at their usual berth, Fern did his part in helping unload the usual shipment. The specialty maintenance shop here always ordered the same stuff at this time of the rotation. Everything was normal. But then Fern got to dash off to meet another ship, and he was more excited than he’d been in a long time.

He called ahead, and was told to meet at the cargo bay door. When he arrived, he saw that this ship was unloading boxes as well. He didn’t see any logos anywhere, and the boxes weren’t even all the same kind, plus the crew wasn’t wearing uniforms.

Looks like one of those freelance setups, he thought while he patiently waited at a distance. That always sounded like such an unreliable way to make a living. But at least they get to travel to interesting places. Where there are cats!

When the crew finished handing the motley assortment of boxes off to a motley assortment of customers, the one with the tablet waved him over. This was a cute little lizard who probably wouldn’t want to be described that way. As yellow as a very serious banana. She called into the ship for somebody else to come out, and Fern was delighted to see another human carrying a cat-sized cage.

“Hello!” the other human said, waving her free hand. “I have something important to tell you about your new friend here.”

Fern was immediately worried. “Is it injured? Or pregnant?” His captain had approved a single animal, not a litter.

“Thankfully, no!” she replied, setting down the cage with the front turned away from him. “First of all, he’s perfectly healthy and perfectly tame. And he’s been fixed. But most importantly, his stink gland has been removed.”

“His what?” Fern thought of his aunt’s cat who had stunk up the house by scent-marking the walls. Wasn’t that just pee, not a gland?

“Congratulations,” the other human said. “You are the proud owner of a non-spraying skunk.”

“A what?” Fern said on reflex, processing her words.

She lifted the cage and turned it so he could see inside. “This is the friendliest little snuggle buddy, and he likes being brushed.”

Fern stared. A very fluffy skunk stared back. While most of his brain was still circling in shock, the thought surfaced that the animal really did seem tame: not threatening to spray even though its gland had been removed. Theoretically.

He asked, “You’re sure it’s completely de-stinked?”

“Yes.” The other human nodded. “Our medscanner is top-notch. And I spent a lot of time with him on the trip here; I’m certain he was hand-raised as a pet. No idea how the poor guy ended up in the middle of nowhere, but he more than deserves a loving home. Think you can give him that?”

Fern’s heart twinged, and he shook himself. “Yes, absolutely. Did he come with a name?”

The other human smiled. “Nope! That’s up to you. I’ve been calling him Fluffy, but that’s just a placeholder.”

“Seems pretty accurate,” Fern said, gazing through the bars.

The yellow lizard stepped forward with the digital paperwork. Fern signed for the skunk, his thoughts in a whirl.

“If you’re already set up with cat food, good news: skunks will eat that,” the other human told him. “They’re omnivores, so this guy will eat a lot of the same stuff you do, just try to keep it as close to nature as you can out in space: plain and not overly processed. He’ll love peanut butter and chicken eggs if you can get them. Oh, and keep him away from the usual list of Crazy Human Toxic Foods! No chocolate, onions, garlic, or caffeine. Or hot peppers, though that’s more unpleasant than poisonous for him.”

“Right,” Fern said, handing the tablet back. “Good to know; thank you.”

“Sure thing! I hope you guys have a long and happy life together.” She presented him with the cage and gave his uniform a look. “Merchant ship, right?”

“Talented Toolmakers, of Frillian Pride,” Fern recited automatically as he accepted the armload of skunk. “I got hired when the route changed to spend more time in human territory. But then it changed back, and I haven’t seen much from home lately.”

“Well this guy’s glad to have you,” the other human said. The lizard was already walking back into the ship. “We have to rush off to another delivery, but good luck! Skunks can get into places they shouldn’t, and claw things open that a cat wouldn’t be able to, so keep him away from the engine room.”

“Got it!” Fern waved goodbye as the other human trotted back onto her ship. While the bay doors closed, Fern took careful steps back toward his own.

He expected his crewmates to react in alarm at the news that his cat was a skunk … but he’d forgotten that they were unfamiliar with Earth animals.

“If it can’t make that smell, and it isn’t going to bite anyone, then I don’t see a problem,” the captain said. “Just keep it in your quarters while it gets settled in. You can bring it out under supervision later.”

“It really is as fluffy as you said,” remarked the engineer.

“What does it eat?” asked the pilot.

Fern replied, “A lot of the same things I do.”

“That’s convenient!” the pilot said. The others agreed.

And that was that. Fern took the skunk into his quarters, let it waddle around and sniff everything, then fed it a messy plate of cat food. He put a folded hand towel in the cage and gently stuffed the skunk back in so he could run off to buy a litter box without worrying about what it would do while he was gone.

He splurged on a fancy litter box with a covered top and an auto-scooper, designed for ship’s cats. When he set it up and opened the cage, the skunk went right for it, which was a relief.

Probably a relief for him too, Fern thought. He’s been in that cage a while.

The captain announced that they were taking off. Fern settled down to socialize with his new pet, confident that he wouldn’t be needed for a while yet. Their route was predictable, after all, and this next part involved a lot of empty space before they reached the warehouse.

A lot of empty space, and pirates.

Human ones according to the intercom, which just made the whole thing more insulting. This was NOT the taste of home he’d been missing. The captain’s announcement held a lot of profanity, and Fern could see why. It was bad enough to be shaken down when they had cargo they could be reimbursed for, but right now their hold was empty. And the pirates wouldn’t accept that.

They’ll want our own tools, Fern thought, looking around his quarters. And food, and fuel, and… His gaze fell on the skunk nosing about his bookshelf.

And fuck them.

He lunged for the intercom button. “Captain, if you’re sure they’re human, I have an idea.”

Several minutes later, the pirate ship locked onto the merchant vessel, and clamped an adapter over the airlock. Pirates gathered, ready to board, armed with guns and knives and vicious grins.

Those grins evaporated when the first pirate looked through the airlock porthole at what waited for them on the other side.

One lone human, wearing a breather helmet and carrying a fluffy, agitated skunk.

The pirates detached immediately and took off with enough thrust to rock the ship.

The pilot got the merchant vessel back on course, while the captain sang praises over the intercom, and Fern brought Fluffy the Fearsome back to his room for some well-earned brushing.

The next time that particular merchant ship passed through the area, it had a large emblem of a skunk pasted next to the company logo.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[icedrake25]

Me losing my goddamn smooth lizard brain clay eating mind when I see the animator getting a pay raise mid-animation when Marcille performs some wacky science experiment to remold the flesh and blood of a dragon into her formerly dead lover and we get to see the aftermath of whatever morbid shit just happened.

I really love that scene because it is so clearly very spooky and morbid and evil looking and yet so joyful at the end. Like yeah, I just performed human transmutation and put a dead person back together atom by atom, recomposing their body from reused skin and muscle and cartilage. But it’s FALIN YAYYYYYY FALINS BACK and also she’s just kinda tranquil for a sec because like what I just died and got reassembled huh that’s cool.

Also gotta love the visual of frame by frame the blood and flesh and hair and muscle weaving and bubbling up to fill out an empty skeleton, finishing with a bloody, emotionless face. A human adult just got built RIGHT THERE. Whoa

[tyrantisterror]

My Childhood Wonder Grew Up

Yesterday I wrote a short post about how I had a smutty story idea that none of the friends I showed it to discouraged me from developing, and as a result it's, uh, developed into something I might actually make. And because the past two months have been ABSOLUTE HELL, especially for any other more fruitful/less smutty creative endeavors of mine, I feel the need to share something I've created to validate my existence in some way. But because this idea is, again, shamelessly smutty and self indulgent, I'm going to give you a proper warning of what you're getting into so you can back out from looking at it.

Ok... so... I'm a big Digimon fan, or at least a big fan of the first three seasons/series of Digimon anime - I feel they kind of dropped off in both story and monster design after Digimon Tamers, though they've been returning to form lately. Have you seen Dinomon? Dinomon kicks ass, even managed to supplant Plesiomon as my favorite mega.

But anyway! Digimon designs vary a lot more in aesthetics than pokemon do, but the best ones all have this cool grungy punk rock feel to them. And because Digimon was the punk rock to Pokemon's pop music, it had more edge to it. Yeah, your dinosaur buddy could evolve into a bigger dinosaur if you want, but it could also evolve into THE FUCKING DEVIL if you played your cards right/wrong. And while the Digimon animes have more or less focused on the most logical evolutions - little dinosaur becomes bigger dinosaur becomes cyborg dinosaur becomes, like, humanoid dinosaur knight - there's a part of my brain that's always thought about how you could take the "person partnered with an evolving monster" setup in a weird direction. Like, what happens if your fun monster pal digivolves into one of those nightmarish Final Boss digimons like Diaboromon or Apocalymon? What if you had a partner who digivolved into one of the "garbage" monsters, i.e. the pathetic, gross, mostly useless digimon that were a result of you sucking at playing the virtual pet game these were originally made for?

Or... I mean, I warned you this was a smutty idea... what if your digimon partner evolved into one of the hot digimons? Like any of the MANY digimons that are basically monster girl dominatrixes? What if your partner turns into LadyDevimon?

And that silly, smutty idea just rattled in my head for a while. 'Cause there's sort of a fun twist you can do on the stock "I've grown up and my childhood friend is now hot and I don't know how to process that" plotline in romance stories with it, you know? Because how does that cliche storyline change if the childhood friend in question was originally a three foot tall lizard, but now she's a nine foot tall dragon-woman?

It's a smutty idea! A terrible, shameful, smutty idea!

...

but no one's stopped me, so...

My Childhood Wonder Grew Up! is the story of five ten year olds who accidentally wandered into another world filled with monsters called wondersprites. Partnering up with five of these wondersprites, the kids went on a grand and harrowing adventure to defeat the Dread Kings, five uniquely strong and wicked wondersprites who were deadset on ruling both the World of Wonder and the human world with a tyrannical iron fist. They defeated the evil, parted with their wondersprite friends, and sealed off the World of Wonder forever, becoming celebrities in the human world in the process.

And then eight years passed.

The "Wonderkids" have graduated high school, and are all struggling with the burden of childhood fame, the gnawing fear that their lives may have peaked when they were preteens, a complete loss as to what they should do with their adult lives, and most of all, a deep sense of grief at being parted with the weird creatures they had befriended during that bizarre and wondrous childhood adventure. As they step out of childhood into adulthood, something remarkable happens.

Wondersprites reappear in the human world, chief among them are their old partners. Except their partners have grown up too, transitioning past what was thought to be the final level of their life cycle. And their new forms are... unexpected.

The leader of the "Wonderkids" was/is Ren Akari. Once a bold, confident (perhaps even overconfident) kid with a flashy and bizarre sense of fashion, Ren's lost all that brash attitude over eight years of people mocking their childhood exuberance and role as the face of the Wonderkids. Now they just want to be invisible, covering themselves in dark and muted clothing, hiding their face (and their goggles - try as they might, Ren can't give up all their childhood habits) beneath a hood, and generally trying to shrink from the public eye as best as they are able.

Their sprite, Scaly Wonder, was a sweet dragon that could match and exceed Ren's enthusiasm pound for pound. She's kept that exuberance, but in her new form it reads a bit differently than it did when she was a pudgy (if badass) dragon.

(Ren and Scaly both identified as male when they were kids, but as young adults they identify as nonbinary and female respectively).

The "bad boy" of the Wonderkids, Colt Ford was stoic, aloof, and generally had an air of being too cool for all this fantasy isekai bullshit. He was always the first to criticize Ren's leadership, but also the first to jump into the fray to help out his friends. Though he often insisted to the contrary, it was clear he cared a great deal for his friends, especially his bird-like partner, Feathery Wonder.

Colt has, unfortunately, remains distant, aloof, and closed off through his adolescence, growing into a young man who's even more shut off from his feelings than he was as a kid. That's ok, though, it's what a man's supposed to be according to his parents.

Colt's partner, Feathery Wonder, has struggled to live up to those same expectations. Though he's definitely tried to keep getting stronger like colt wanted, somewhere along the way he crashed, and his new form is... well, it's anything but strong, though it does has surprising utility in helping out the other wondersprites with mid-battle upgrades.

A tomboy whose confidence almost matched Ren's, Jaime Shannon was the heart of the group in many ways, mending disagreements between the other Wonderkids and always making sure they remembered they were in this together. Jaime was never afraid to speak her mind, and also enjoyed playfully ribbing her friends when they got too wrapped up in themselves.

Unfortunately, that confidence was relentlessly criticized when Jaime and the other Wonderkids were put in the public eye after saving the world, with many tabloids and pundits singling her out as a "bad role model." Jaime purposely tried to distance herself from her childhood personality as much as possible, becoming prim, soft-spoken, and very traditionally feminine in a hope to prove she's not the grubby tomboy everyone thought she was.

Her wondersprite partner is Shaggy Wonder, a fuzzy furball of a creature who was perhaps the most self-serious of the lot, constantly making heroic proclamations and speeches, much to Jaime's amusement. He's still like that, of course, but with his much more heroic build, he's beginning to look like he might actually live up to his own hype now.

Seymore Sullivan was a scrawny, bookish kid who tried to live up to the idea of brains beating brawn, often with very limited success. Though shy and full of insecurities, he proved an important asset to the Wonderkids, as his wealth of knowledge and analytical mind allowed him to devise strategies his fellow ten-year-olds could not think of on their own.

Seymore had a very eventful journey of self discovery after the whole Wondersprite Adventure. She goes by Siobhan now, and with that change in identity she seems to have gained all the self confidence that many of her fellow Wonderkids lost.

Siobhan's partner was Crawly Wonder, a goofy and mischievous wondersprite who took a playful and irreverent attitude to their adventure in the World of Wonder, even when things got VERY perilous. Though Crawly loves putting people off kilter, they're a little worried their newest transition might be too much - it looks a little terrifying, doesn't it?

(Siobhan/Seymore identified as male when she was young but now identifies as female, while Crawly Wonder was and is nonbinary)

A girly girl through and through, Cassie (yes, Cassie, ignore the name I wrote on the paper, this is all a work in progress and shit will change) Vasquez may have been a bit whiny in the eyes of her peers, but she also had the strongest moral core out of all of them, and was the most successful at winning other sprites over to their side and away from the rule of the Dread Kings. She proved again and again that her femininity was an asset, aided by the help of her surprisingly versatile aquatic wondersprite.

Cassie has grown up to be a bit less traditionally feminine, though she would say her love of all things lady has only grown with age. She picks and chooses aspects of various alternative lifestyles that suit her - a little hippie here, a little punk there, etc. - and of all the Wonderkids, she's the one who most openly pines for the World of Wonder, even sporting several tattoos in explicit honor of her wondersprite partner.

Said sprite, Slippy Wonder, was invaluable in the water as would be expected, but also surprisingly capable of holding her own on land, battering enemies with her venomous tentacles. Slippy also openly pines for a reunion with Cassie, and is even more overjoyed than the others that the World of Wonder is connected to the human world again.

While the return of wondersprites to the human world is, ostensibly, the conflict that the Wondernot-quite-kids and their partners need to solve, the meat of My Childhood Wonder Grew Up lies in how their relationships to each other have changed now that they've grown up. Sure, there's a new Wondersprite Adventure for them to solve, with threats both old and new alike to deal with and a big mystery to solve, but all of that is hard to focus on for our no-longer-kid protagonists. As much as it seems like their childhood is back again, can it really be when they themselves have changed so much?

And also... are they gonna smooch those monsters? 'Cause some of them are... oddly smoochable.

...so yeah, that's the smutty little idea I've come up with and no one has stopped me yet. None of this is set in stone, naturally - I might age up the kids a bit, for example. Like, 18 feels thematically appropriate, it's the official transition point between childhood and adulthood, and graduating high school feels like a potent time to explore the feelings of leaving childhood behind and entering adulthood... but also I'm thirty-six and 18 doesn't really feel like an adult age to me now, even if legally it is, you feel me? Twenty would feel more appropriate, even if it's a less thematically interesting age.

And either way this probably won't come to fruition for, like, MANY years yet - when I get back my writing mojo I will be going right back to Maude and Mordi, and Wizard School Mysteries still has five books to go yet, and Dark Chivalry needs to fit in there somewhere too, not to mention a polished version of At Sea Without a Map and the 10th anniversary special editions of No Sympathies and ATOM Volumes 1 and 2...

But someday, maybe, we'll see this become a thing. A smutty, smutty thing.

[rs-hawk]

Female human x vampire!gf and dragon!gf

Fluffy/smut

Plz

I'm touch-starved

Honestly? Getting lost on that castle tour was the best thing that ever happened to you. You ended up trapped in a hidden hallway, with only the the torches lining the walls to guide you. Panic and fear welled up inside of you, as did tears. As you leaned against the wall, you slowly slid down it until you hit the ground with a soft thunk.

“Now now there. You don’t have to be so scared. It’s just the dark,” a hissing voice seemed to come from everywhere, making you curl more into yourself.

“Not everyone has night vision as excellent as yours, my love,” a purring sort of voice answered.

You wiped your tears away, feeling your pockets for your keys. Sure, they weren’t much, and you typically weren’t afraid of other women, but being lost and scared made you feel more paranoid than you usually did. Stumbling to your feet, you turned towards the side of the hallway you thought the voices were coming from.

There was the clicking of heels and the sound of… wings? The second sound puzzled you enough to make you drop your guard, your head tilted as you tried to identify it. Yeah, wings. You were fairly certain of that.

Into view stepped a beautiful woman. Tall, elegant, with pearl-like skin. It seemed to shimmer under the torchlight, and it was so clear, so pale, that it seemed nearly opaque. Her eyes were dark and slightly sunken in, but that did nothing to take away from her stunning beauty. Despite the terror that began clawing at your brain when you saw her, something in you screaming Predator. Danger, you couldn’t bear to look away from her.

The only reason you looked away was the creature that landed next to her. A towering terror of a woman that made your mouth go dry with a mix of want and fear. Her eyes were slitted, and teeth too long, too sharp, for her mouth protruded from it, reminding you of a crocodile’s maw. Her nails were long, black claws that were carefully draped over the pale woman’s shoulders. She had to stoop to fit in the hallway. It was no wonder that she was flying, using wings that were half tucked behind her back.

“You’re…,” you trailed off, staring at them in wonder. A thousand words filled your mind to describe them.

“Frightful?” the pale woman asked, flashing a fanged smile.

“Disgusting?” the dragon woman echoed, tilting her head as she looked at you.

“Horrid?”

“Horrifying?”

“Monstrous!”

The last one made them both laugh, but you stayed rooted to the spot in awe. “Stunning,” you whisper, feeling like you were in a trance state.

That made the laughter die on both of their lips as they turned back to look at you, now looking curious and slightly confused. “Is that so?” the pale woman, a vampire if you had to guess, inquired, her clicking heels echoing in the empty hallway and she sauntered closer to you.

“Wow,” was all you could think of as she closed the gap, taking your chin in her hand. Her cool touch sent a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you stared up at her, mouth slightly open with an unfounded excitement.

The Dragon chuckled as she dropped to her hands and knees, crawling over like a lizard would run. You tore your gaze from the Vampire just to be able to look at her with that same awe and wonder. She popped up besides the Vampire, running a claw down the bridge of your nose. For some reason, you giggled, grinning at her. You felt so… safe. Comforted. Like you were in the presence of two beings that could only love you.

The two women exchanged looks before looking back at you. “You’re not scared?” the Dragon asked. You shook your head as much as you could with the Vampire still holding your chin. “You’re not going to scream or ask us to leave you alone?”

“Why would I do that?” you blurted out.

They both looked at you with confusion, but you couldn’t help but let the words tumble out. You felt safe with them, and you knew that was silly because you hadn’t even really met them, but you couldn’t help it. They seemed confused but softened as you talked, and especially the way you started leaning into the Vampire’s touch.

“Maybe we should play with her, at least a little bit,” the Dragon nearly purred as she cupped your cheek.

“You read my mind as always, darling,” the Vampire grinned as you whined against both of their touches, trying to stand on your tiptoes to lean more into them.

The Vampire drew you closer to her so she could plant a cool, forceful kiss against your lips. You moaned softly against her lips as you reached for her, trying to wrap your arms around her neck to draw her in closer, but you’re stopped by the Dragon, who started to kiss and nip along your neck. You’re picked up and sat on the Dragon’s lap as she sat down, the Vampire leaning down to keep peppering you in kisses as the Dragon’s tongue flicked out to tease your neck.

You whined again, leaning back against the Dragon as she racked her claws over your your stomach, trailing down to the sweet, wet spot between your legs. Your mind was fuzzy as you felt the heat between your legs burn as she easily cut away the fabric there teasing your clit carefully with one of her claws. Part of you wanted to flinch away, but you had enough sense to stay still.

“What a pretty little one she is,” the Dragon cooed, her tail now between your legs, prodding open your dripping hole.

“Maybe could keep her,” the Vampire agreed.

She sat in front of you, helping it guide the Dragon’s tail into you. You grunted as it was pushed in, the thickness and texture of the scales unfamiliar but not unpleasant. Before you knew it, you were whining and limp in the Dragon’s arms, legs spread widely by her as she kept fucking you with her tail. The Vampire had her lips attached to your clit, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you, not caring as you sobbed from over stimulation. Not that you ever actually asked her to stop.

The Dragon pushed her tail deeply inside of you, mocking you in a warm voice for how wet you are, and how easily you take it. All you can do is babble out a thank you as the Vampire teased another orgasm out of your poor spent body. By the time they’re done with you, you’re sticky and exhausted, but you still cling to the Vampire as she helped you redress.

“You don’t have to do that. We’re not leaving you after that much fun,” she promised, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead as the Dragon took you both in her arms.

[thecherrylady]

ROTTMNT: The Komodo Sisters

[Tap for better quality ♡]

Oh, what's this?? An OC rewrite??? If you followed me from my previous blog, you already know Tasmin [the name is Tasmin now] is a familiar TMNT OC of mine, and yall, I missed her and this fandom sm. 😭 I decided my girl needed a re-write and character update, she deserved it. And she's also got a few new friends I'd like to introduce to you all! Featuring my take on a Rise Version of Mona!

[Rambles and character into below♡]

Up until Rottmnt, the Komodo sisters other than Tasmin did not have names, as in the beginning of the TMNT franchise they were just a group of rebellious human juveniles with Tasmin as there leader- but in Rise, the roles are a bit swapped. Instead, Mona is the leader of the group and the oldest, with Madonna and Angel being three Komodo Dragon Yokai and Tasmin, the only human. She was found as a baby on the streets of New York by BG and taken under her care.

They were taught and trained under Big Mama and the hotel staff and are all vigilantes in the works. They are minor Antagonists to the Turtles when they carry out missions for Big Mama around New York or sometimes in the Hidden city when the Turtles run around having shenanigans there.

But Tasmin on the other hand is usually directly at Big Mama's side- since she's a human, Mama wants to keep her sheltered from the upside world as well as the Hidden City to keep her protected from danger. So Tasmin usually has to miss out on all of the fun whilst her sisters are out doing all the cool stuff.

But Tasmin isn't completely rendered useless, while she's also Mama's little tea maid, she's also the tech-wizz of her sisters, and uses wristbands or ear pieces to communicate or track/watch the Komodo sisters and give them information on what their mission is.

🩷

Mona is the oldest of the sisters, even if her stout and shorter appearance compared to her other sisters seems to defy that fact. But don't let her size fool you. This ball of energy can be firey - and she's a total brute who can carry things like 10× her weight. For a brutal vigilante, Mona is a very bubbly and sweet lizard who loves her sisters and is always trying her best to make them all get along. She's willing to stick up and defend her sisters for anything.

💙

Madonna is the next oldest and is on the more contrast side of Mona. She's stubborn, aggressive, and competitive. She likes to take missions seriously and do her best to be praised and respected by Big Mama. Tasmin and Madonna have a slight sibling rift/rivalry between another, mostly because Madonna sees Tasmin as some 'golden child' who is Big Mama's favorite, making her very jealous.

💛

Angel is the happy medium of the sisters. She's very chill, laid back, and mellow. A hippy/surfer is what the youngest of the sisters is usually called [by Madonna, mostly] with her seemingly calm and annoyingly peaceful approach to even the most intense situations. Angel tries to keep all her sisters from getting to each other's throats when things start to get rocky, making her the mediator half of the time.

💚

And finally, Tasmin, the only human of the sisters. Tasmin is the brains of the Komodos, and uses her smarts and wits to keep her sisters on track and focusing on their missions... Even if her attempts are futile. Though she tries her best to hide it under the 'perfect' child image for Big Mama. Her competitive and rebellious spirit battles her smarts and desire obey at times, with Tasmin love for adventure and the idea of going to the upper side of the city with her sisters, sometimes it's a battle between what her heart wants an what her brain wants.

Facts♡

The sisters weapons [if not their sharp teeth, claws, and strength] are blow darts. They use their venomous spit to coat the darts as their weapons. In reality, their saliva is toxic, but in the show it just causes the victim to grow paralyzed and inebriated for a while.

Tasmins weapon of choice is what appears to be a measly staff, but with a little push of a button it transforms into a large hammer/weapon.

[inferno-0]

Frame

────────────────────────────

You just need the shots.

────────────────────────────

Sorry for the English.

Titans have always defeated their enemies. For millennia, if not more, they have fought for balance and peace on this planet. They were all strong in their own way. Even those same pests had some potential, but decided to go the other way, with poor results in the process. Victory has always been on the side of good. It had to be. Any way. Especially for creatures like Kaiju, who are truly majestic.

They had their own zest, and maybe even several.

Some people liked them

And some preferred to run far away, the main thing was not to look at them and save their lives. But that's what life is for, to preserve it and make that remnant richer than being eaten or trampled by the Titan. But do the Titans really need to do anything to humans? Their work is done.

There was no enemy and there was no point in doing anything else.

It's just people who are like that. Their size was really poorly chosen by nature and therefore you have to somehow survive and turn on instincts for advancement.

It's no one's fault that half of humanity actively avoids all these Kaiju.

It's just a smart decision of nature, or maybe fate itself, that gave all these Titans the ability.

The ability that people liked, who are not afraid of them and consider them something beautiful and attractive.

Especially you. A simple girl, an ordinary resident in the city,

Just a creature with a destiny to follow.

But this fate was difficult and you didn't know what to do and how to decide.

For some reason, your ego can't get enough of all these shots from the news on TV. You've always wanted something more, and you didn't know what it was. Even photographs that were accidentally photographed by people were kept for themselves. Everything that had to do with the Titans, you put aside for yourself. All the information that kept you afloat was yours.

You were obsessed.

Especially from the moment He arrived.

You've seen this fight and watched it several times. The Lizard fought other Titans unknown to you. You couldn't find an animal that matched these looks, but they all looked mysterious and beautiful in their own way. But there was a bad intention behind this beauty. You have heard and understood that these two Titans were parasites. That is why the one who fell into your soul mercilessly destroyed them. The one you've always liked and the one that sticks in your head to this day.

It's been many years since you've seen it. You didn't know where he was going or what he was doing. But perhaps he, like all animals, slept somewhere and accumulated strength for the next fight.

You've always been following the information about this Titan. Especially when he came back a couple of years later.

You've seen this fierce battle once again. But it's more terrible with the enemy. Their struggle was serious and decided the future fate of the planet. Two alphas and two kings.

But you've always been in favor of the former, and for good reason.

He won again and left again. And you were left sitting in your room and looking at the photos, which were added a few years later. And again. Struggle.

No matter how many years pass, no matter how many times you learn everything in your life. Your brain couldn't get it out of your head. So much time has passed, and you're still into it. Any ordinary person would call you crazy and frivolous, a person with a childish imagination and inspiration in the next book with Dinosaurs.

Or maybe it was.

For these people.

For you, this was the first step to destiny. Yes, it all started with simple reptiles and dinosaurs, and then the Titans, which seductively torment your soul. But you don't mind. You just need to shorten the distance to them.

And to him.

The one that ate up your brain and all the unnecessary thoughts every day.

You couldn't help but think about him. For you, it has become something ordinary.

It's already familiar.

A habit that only gives you a step forward.

And off you went.

The next struggle that was in front of your eyes. The Four Titans. Two by two, and Odin died. You didn't understand how you managed to survive in such a deadly situation. Buildings collapsed step by step, you desperately ran where your feet led. Where my instinct led me. The loud screams of people, the growls coming from somewhere above, made you close your eyes and ears and squeeze into yourself like a child in a corner.

It wasn't like what you saw on TV.

It was scarier.

It was worse.

But for some reason, you didn't run where the rest of the people who were saving themselves were running. You ran to him.

To Godzilla.

Its spikes were visible between the buildings and you took advantage of this by speeding up your run. The closer you were, the scarier it became from the size you gradually notice in front of you. You knew you could die, but you went anyway.

You've been dreaming for so long and couldn't miss this moment.

You don't care if you're going to die.

It's like someone steps on you.

You want and move forward, crawling through broken roofs and structures. Yes, it was difficult, but you walked.

They were practically near you, but not yet completely. They won't see you. Much less will He see.

A couple of meters left. You've already noticed the big ape that was called Kong. You recalled the struggle that took place a few years ago. It was him. The only thing that distinguished him from that image was a large and yellow metal glove, which seemed to increase his strength.

But it doesn't matter, what matters is that the one you admired, or even loved, has also become different. You walked to the last tall building that could withstand such storms and looked up.

Your favorite.

A creature that has sunk into your little heart from the very beginning. That has become something mundane in your head. He was in front of you. The changes that touched him excited your mind even more. His breath was pink, and his spikes became sharper and more curved. The legs have clearly become longer.

So beautiful and so attractive.

You watched in amazement as the Titan shot its beam into the sky, pulling apart the cold clouds, letting the sun into the world. It was perfect. It was so beautiful that we didn't notice how we pulled out the phone for another photo. This picture will be truly sensational. The most beloved in my entire life.

A smile immediately enveloped your face, you slowly picked up your phone and looked across the screen at Godzilla, who was unaware of anything. But he's unlikely to notice.

The finger cautiously approached the mug through which your life would sing again for a few days.

Squinting your eyes, you gasped for air.

"Click"

"Oops" You pursed your lips into a thin line and carefully moved the lens away from you. Okay, that wasn't the plan. It was ridiculous. A failure and a mistake that will probably ruin your life right now.

Reaching for your pocket, you put your phone back in and took a step back.

I don't think the sound reached them because of the difference in size, you just need to quietly step back from this fuss.

Slowly turning your back on the Titans, you took another step away from them. The quieter the step, the stronger the crunch of stones under your feet, which was a problem.

"Everything is fine. All.. Good.." You could barely hold back a sigh.

"Everything is wonderful..."

A huge shadow immediately loomed over you, right over your pathetic body. Your shoulders stiffened. You remembered how you came here without fear, but with a suspicion of death.

And here she comes.

That is, He came.

Warm air enveloped your shoulders. A rhythmic growl followed you, as if interested. You didn't dare turn your head, but you can't run away either.

Two options and two different answers.

How could you not hear this colossus approaching you?

Absurdly.

You swallowed, praying you wouldn't be in any danger. Just like yard dogs, they will smell it and move on. But not everyone does that.

Making a different decision, you jerked away from the Titan, jumping off a collapsed chunk of the building until you stopped again with a furious scream at your back. Out of your fear, another one sounded, but this time another, more rude. And it didn't seem to be aimed at you.

With tension, you turned all the way.

The two Titans growled at each other as if to say something, but it was not yet known what it was. Very strange. But you silently thanked the monkey for not letting you offend, to put it mildly.

You looked at the two kaiju one more time before pulling out your phone again.

Turning on the camera and adjusting the lens, you pointed your gadget at one cute Titan on the left. You didn't notice it right away, but when you caught your eye, you decided to take a picture and capture it as a complement to your passions.

Squinting your eyes and adjusting for an angle, you finally clicked.

"Click"

"Damn" You banged your head on the screen, bumping your forehead right at that button, where there was another click in the direction of the Titan. "What's the matter... "

The three of them stared at you.

The three mighty Titans fell abruptly silent. The one in white was just looking at you curiously, bowing his head slightly while the other two looked at each other. Although Godzilla still had a quiet growl in the direction of Kong, who just turned away with a frown, not wanting to start a fight again.

Now you're in their sight.

Here it is, embarrassment in front of an idol.

You raised your eyebrows, looking back. If you say something, they are unlikely to understand.

Lifting the camera again, you brought your finger closer to the button once more.

"Click"

With a shake in your hands, you brought the screen closer to you, staring at the photo in the hope that the second attempt would not come. You breathed a sigh of relief. All three of them looked at you peacefully, without screaming and without anything that could ruin the shot. Even Godzilla silently stared at you, even though it was scary. But you didn't mind.

All that's left to do is reach out, poke your hand on that muzzle, and feel the texture of the scales.

But it will only be in dreams.

So far.

And now.. Enjoy a bunch of beautiful Titans that flaunt in your lens. After all, it's not for nothing that you stepped on that very step as a child.

────────────────────────────

[monstersflashlight]

Monster smash (part 2)

A/N: Hi lovelies! Welcome to this new-ish blog, I thought a good way to move was to post part 2 of this story y’all loved so much.

Multiple monsters x fem!reader || sfw, funny situation

You wake up to the sound of voices. Many voices, some grumbly and some other very deep, inhumanly deep. But there’s also clicking sounds, like the ones little forest creatures make when you get too close. You don’t even remember what happened. Did you faint?

“Honey… Are you all right?” A deep voice asks as your eyes flutter open, they feel incredibly heavy. There’s a lady with too many teeth in front of you… She’s scary enough that you close your eyes instantly, breathing hard as you try not to panic. And then the memories come back rushing through your mind.

The monster smash!

The person in front of you with thousands of pointy teeth is… the grocery lady! Shit, shit, shit… What did you get yourself into? Your brain is running so fast you feel almost dizzy, your body threatening to shut up again, but you breathe through your nose until you feel calm enough to re-open your eyes. The lady is not there anymore, but the tech dragon from your building is.

They are staring down at you with slow blinking eyes and a tiny smile, their nostrils flaring as if smelling your emotions. Can they do that? Can dragons smell emotions? Shit, what if they can? What are they able to smell? Can they smell your fear? Shit, could they smell that you didn’t shower for a week back when you had a big project at work? Oh, shit… Now you have to rethink about all the encounters you had with all of them.

“Pull back, you big dragon, let the lad have some space!” Someone else reprimands, pulling the dragon away with a chuckle. You only see a big gray hand but you can’t see who it belongs to, they move too fast to be caught by human eyes. What the fuck?

How can this be possible? How the fuck did you find yourself in that situation? Surrounded by monsters in a speed dating event… For fucks sake what was even your life anymore?

You try to sit up, but your brain is not agreeing with that decision and you fall back. You brace for impact, but you don’t land on the hard floor, but a soft surface that reminds you a lot to somebody’s lap. You look behind you and stare into thin vertical pupils that make your blood run a bit colder. That’s, that’s…

“You are a lizard woman!” You say a bit too loud if the flinch of everyone around you is any indication. But you don’t care, your confusion and hint of fear are rapidly replaced by indignation. You know that face, you know those eyes. You know them very, very well. “We shared tea many times and you didn’t tell me you were a lizard woman!?” Your tone is almost as angry as Bella Swan when she discovered Jacob named her daughter like the lake Ness monster.

Shit, was the lake Ness monster real? Was Twilight based in real events?! You have so many questions your brain can’t stop spinning.

“Darling, I-” Your friend from 4B tries to argue, but you are not having it. You sit up straight and get help from your landlord to get up, the minotaur landlord. The minotaur landlord that has no shirt on and has a very hairy chest you lowkey want to bury your face in. Focus, you remind yourself.

And the realization hits you like a brick.

You live in a monster building.

All your neighbors are monsters.

The one you considered your best friend is a lizard-woman.

What the actual fuck?

[inmedicalres]

Flight

Rezi became a pilot because she could. She stayed because nothing in human life could compare to being a dragon in flight.

That was on the good days. On the bad ones, there was Griswold.

Griswold had twenty-seven names, each one from a different century in which his power and his magic had made him some variant on The Terror of the Skies. Griswold had grown enormous on magic, and then the day came that magic failed.

Now Griswold Oa’Manth Emon-Raut, the Stone that Holds the Mountain, the One Who Flies Most Often, the Scourge of Trains, the Nightmare relied on pilots.

Relied on Rezi, specifically.

It wasn’t fair. The pilot who had previously flown Griswold had retired, and Rezi had been new in the ranks, and that was how it happened. Griswold should have gone to an older, more experienced pilot, but none of them wanted him and had explained that taking on more than you could possibly handle was how you became older and more experienced.

Unless the goddamn dragon fought you too hard and the mass of bitter lizard pride crashed you and your entire crew out of the sky. Dragons were meant to fly, but at some point their magic failed and the laws of physics took hold. And dragons needed to fly -- something about how the oxygen moved over their wings like gills. Humans had designed machines that could bring them back to the sky, and with the funding of hoards, the technology was only getting better.

But while dozens of people kept pistons greased and braces bolstered, the entire endeavor hinged on the psychic pilot to suppress the dragon’s reflexes. In an ancient dragon, the frontal lobe could be ten yards from the brainstem. It took a signal milliseconds to travel that far, and in that time, an instinctive tail flick could take out an entire wing support.

And God forbid you survive the crash, because the Parliament of Dragons would hold you accountable, and you’d spend the next thirty years of your life answering for a moment of being just a little too tired, a little too frustrated.

So Rezi stayed on high-alert when she was tuned in to Griswold. Not that the Dragon Parliament had any great love of him, either, but if they wanted to live unnaturally long lives, it meant Griswold got to, too. Griswold was the size of a town square, and he hated pilots. 

You again, came the low rumble inside Rezi’s head. His voice was like stones cascading down a mountainside. 

The cockpit was a small, leather-clad chamber between the dragon’s brows. The sloping expanse of Griswold’s snout spread out before her like a sledding hill, pebbled with oily purple scales. At the base of the snout stood nostrils the size of carriages. Beyond that, the ridge of the upper lip. And beyond that — Rezi shook her head. It wasn’t a good idea to think too much about the teeth. 

Greetings, Fair and Mighty Griswold, replied Rezi. Shall we take to the skies today?

A rush of air that could blow over a house erupted from Griswold’s snout. 

What else would I come here for?

She readied herself for the plunge into Griswold’s brainstem. It hurt him just as much as it hurt her, and that was what was so awful about being entwined in a dragon’s brain. Everything you did to them, they did to you. She punctured through his mind, feeling his own rage and pain as she forced her way to the brainstem and settled over the physical reflexes. 

“Ready for launch?” came a voice through her headset. 

“Ready,” she replied. But she was never ready for Griswold.

On the back of the ancient dragon, pistons began firing. Braces gripped the torso, granting anchors to the wings. A dozen humans ran back and forth, tending to the light-weight mechanisms that had to keep a mountain in the air.

I was once so much more than this, came Griswold’s voice. Rezi tried to shut it out. His tail yearned to remove the fleas from his back, and it took most of her concentration to suppress the damn thing. She knew other pilots saw their connection in different ways. For her, she imagined herself walking inside the dragon’s skull, phasing in and out of the anatomy to get where she needed to go. It didn’t matter that it didn’t quite work like that. It was just how it made sense to her. Griswold’s brainstem was made of barbed thorns that fought back when she tried to grab them.

It wasn’t like this with other dragons. Other dragons welcomed pilots, granted them space in their mind, took the insertion peacefully and even tried to help.

As they launched into the air, a wall of regret and pain slammed into Rezi’s mind. The problem with being psychic was that you were psychic for all of it. Somehow, other pilots could shut out the emotions that screamed through their dragons’ minds, but flying Griswold was having your heart ripped out again and again, rage against the cruel, fickle ways of magic, painful joy as fresh gusts of air moved through your wings, bone-deep shame that the disgusting little monkey on your head had to control your body for you, fantasies of ruling the sky once more, laying waste to the flight academy, taking back your place as a thing to be feared and mighty

—Keeping the goddamn tail streamlined, keep it away from us, he’d kill us all— 

The itch on the wings! The itch and the shame and the bastards that did this to you, you did not used to be broken, you used to be whole, and when you were whole not one of these bald monkeys would have dared to imagine they could rip their way into your mind, control your own body for you, you were king

—Keep his goddamn tail straight or you’re going to have to lock him out of here entirely— 

Ha! As though you could! As though you had the right!

If you please, your graciousness, I must delve a little deeper.

Before he could give a response, Rezi plunged from the surface of the brainstem into the roots. She grabbed the nerves to the tail tight in her psychic fists and squeezed, killing off the signals that threatened to crash them. She felt Griswold howl in pain but kept her grip tight, trying to shut out the threats of death and dismemberment that ripped into her brain.

After a small eternity, they landed. Rezi shakily resurfaced into her body.

Ever a pleasure to be some small part of your greatness, she managed.

Get off of me, came the stony response.

“No one makes you do this,” muttered Rezi. Ensconced between the dragon’s eyes, her voice was too soft for his distant ears to hear. “You could just fucking die.”

-

Rezi came back to her bunk at the base and collapsed on the floor. It would be another month before Griswold needed to fly again. But he’d need to fly again. He always needed to fly again. 

Adam walked by her room and stopped. He looked at her on the floor. “Griswold again?”

“He’s the fucking worst,” groaned Rezi. “And I hate saying that. It’s supposed to be an honor to work with his greatness, yadda yadda. I get to help keep one of the ancient wonders of the world alive.”

“But you fucking hate it.”

“I fucking hate him.”

Adam sat down on the floor next to her. “You only sound like this after flying Griswold. You’re Squishy McGee for everyone else.”

“Everyone else seems to understand that I’m there to help. Griswold acts like I’m the reason he can’t fly anymore.”

“You’ve been trying to shut him out?”

“YES,” growled Rezi. “I try, and I try, and I can’t do it.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” said Adam.

“I know it’s the problem, everyone keeps telling me it’s the problem.”

“No, I mean — maybe you have to stop shutting him out. Every time you tell me about a good flight, it’s one where you and the dragon get hella entangled and unified and shit. Maybe Griswold’s exhausting because you keep trying not to do that.”

“I don’t want to be hella entangled and unified with a mind that hates me and wants to sear the flesh from my bones.”

“Yeah, I feel that,” said Adam. “I dunno. I just hate seeing you like this. You’re a good pilot. Don’t forget that.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said Rezi.

Adam laughed. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a dragon. I know when you don’t mean what you’re saying.”

“I don’t feel like a good pilot,” said Rezi. “I literally muttered to myself that he should just die.”

“You’re human, and he sucks,” said Adam. “You’re still a good pilot. Come on, let’s go eat.”

“I don’t want to eat.”

“I will grab you by the brainstem, so help me God.”

“Rude,” said Rezi, and stood up. She knew he was only joking — a psychic never used their powers that way, it would be hugely invasive and a fucking crime.

-

A month passed. A little calendar in Rezi’s head kept silent, dreading count of how long she had until she had to fly Griswold again. Despite Adam’s words, she couldn’t shake that it was wrong to pilot a dragon you wished were dead. 

She didn’t have to take to the cockpit until late afternoon. It would take nearly twelve hours to set up the mechanisms that would allow Griswold to fly, and that wasn’t her job. But she woke up at three in the morning anyway and went to the broad, misty meadow where the dragon lay sullenly. The techs were just getting the harness onto him, and he snarled at them intermittently.

Lord of Terror, the Nightmare that Never Ends? It is I, your pilot.

The dragon turned his head to look at her, and his voice was surprised. To what do I owe this early-morning pleasure? I had thought pilots treasured their sleep. 

We do, replied Rezi. But our flights have been…fraught. And I think I must be failing you.

Griswold snorted. We rise into the sky. We land again. I live. 

But you fight me. I feel how you feel. I feel your rage. I feel your hatred. I…I would like things to be different, if they could. 

The dragon let out a laugh like a sudden downpour. Go home. We do not need to speak more.

Please. Most dragons love to fly. You hate it. Why? Why bother?

There was long silence, but Rezi could feel the contempt emanating from him as he put his words together.

I do not hate to fly, he said, slowly. But would you like to know what I hate?

Rezi felt her heart pounding in her chest. Yes, she thought.

Never once has it occurred to you that I feel what you feel, too.

Rezi felt her heart stop beating.

You look at me as a thing. A series of reflexes to be suppressed. Pain to be ignored. You ransack my mind with a passing pleasantry that you resent even having to make. You speak kind words because it is expected of you, because you have been taught that dragons respond well to flattery. Your words mean nothing, and I feel your thoughts when you are struggling against me. You respect nothing about me. You violate me. And you wish that I would die and leave you be. Tell me, why should I enjoy the indignity it takes to live?

Rezi had nothing to say. If you want another pilot—,

No need. They are all like you.

A wall of shame crashed down on her that was entirely her own.

I’m so sorry, she said.

Curious, came Griswold’s voice. You mean it.

-

When she strapped herself into the cockpit, she could barely bring herself to make the connection. 

Lord of the Skies, do you wish to fly today?

I do not wish to fly anymore. But I must. 

…Would you like my help?

I would not. But I will accept it. 

I am asking entry to your mind. Will you grant it?

If I say no?

Then I would leave.

Then I suppose I have no choice.

She kept her mind more open as she entered. It was painful. He was gasping for breath, how had she never noticed that before? The lack of oxygen was like a hunger eating at the edges of every thought. 

He noticed her noticing. There was a wry twist to his words, but they were not cruel.

You have been here many times. This is the first you have felt what is like to be without air?

We’re not supposed to connect too deeply. It makes it hard to concentrate. We can’t fly if we’re both suffocating.

Were you not chosen for this task specifically because you can connect in such a way?

We’re trained out of it. It’s amateurish. Dangerous.

You were taught to ignore pain?

We have to. It hurts you when we enter your mind, it hurts you when we control your reflexes. If it means saving our lives and yours, we can’t be afraid to hurt you.

Griswold’s mind rippled with wordless resentment. 

It doesn’t have to be like this, thought Rezi. If you invite me in, make space for me — it doesn’t have to hurt so much.

There was a time that a monkey like you would never have even dared approach me.

I know, said Rezi. But you came to us.

It was the wrong thing to say. The rage roiled out of Griswold’s mind like a forest fire. 

To stay alive! I am coerced by Death! No other force could bring me here.

Everyone dies eventually, thought Rezi.

Suddenly, the harsh oxygen hunger bit into Rezi’s own lungs. Unbidden, she felt the dread and fear of what it would mean to let it take over. The long, slow death of hunger, lungs burning to death.

You’re not scared of dying, she realized. You’re scared of suffocating to death.

Obviously.

But — it doesn’t have to be like that. No one dies that way anymore. I can turn off your reflexes — I can turn off the hunger for air.

The dragon’s mind was silent.

Prove it, he said.

You’ll have to let me in deep, said Rezi. It might hurt.

You may try.

Rezi found her way to the brain stem. It wasn’t hard to find the part that was causing the air-hunger; palpable pain came from it in waves. Approaching it was difficult, as her own lungs clamored for her to breathe. 

She laid her hands on the screaming neurons. They were cold and smooth as steel, biting as though it were a winter’s day. She reached inside her own chest and found her own calm and her own breath. She closed her fingers around the vibrating nerves and willed them to still.

Clear, clean relief flooded around her. It hit her hard in the chest, euphoric.

We can fly if you want to, whispered Rezi. But you don’t have to. You get to choose.

I wouldn’t have to wear the harness. I wouldn’t have to feel the itch and thrum of those terrible machines.

Never again. Not if you don’t want to. 

I would choose this, thought Griswold. You can promise me there will be no pain?

Pain is a reflex. Reflexes are what I do. I can give the word right now and we’ll stop gearing you up for flight. 

Do it. A pause. You will stay with me?

Rezi hesitated. I can’t do it alone. It will take months to die this way. It will have to be done in shifts. But I will be one of the pilots, yes. 

I want no one but you.

I can’t do that. But I will be one of them, I promise.

…Compromise. Even in death, I am made to compromise. There was a time no man would ask me to do such a thing.

Time makes bitches of us all, sir.

The dragon’s laughter rattled her chest.

I like your true voice. Very well. It will be as you say. 

And it was. It took slow months. Long months. Effort and time, soaking in the dragon’s thoughts and regret as his mind slowed and drifted. The scream for oxygen, though, was silent. And for that, Rezi found she had endless energy. They made her take breaks, and she took them, because it wasn’t healthy to be so entwined with a dying creature. But whenever she started to falter, she would take in deep pulls of Griswold’s gratitude and relief, his delight at no longer feeling short of breath. It was better than flight. It was exhausting, physically and mentally. She slept hard in her bunk and forced herself to eat. Adam worried about her.

She wasn’t there when he died. No one could predict when exactly the moment would come, and she’d been on one of her mandatory breaks at the time. But when she came to his body, the pilot there nodded silently and let her have the cockpit to herself.

When she returned to her bunk, Adam found her.

“Told you you were a good pilot,” he said.

“Joke’s on you,” she replied. “I wanted him dead, and he fucking died.”

“That’s why I don’t get on your bad side.”

There would be another flight tomorrow.