CosmicBreath

TW: Bullying The wind rustled the leaves of the trees, the grass pleasantly cool, brushing along Strix's feathers like a silk brush, eyes half closed in a sleepy doze while Skipper leans against his side for support as she finishes up coloring the last few flash cards they created. The glass of his clamber throat frosted over inside from the condensation of his breath, his glands emanating a vibrant red glow, increasing body temperature to keep the both of them warm. Strix's ears relaxed against his skull, twitching on occasion from the sounds around them apart from Skipper's soft humming and occasional murmur. Her chatter had ceased when she became focused on this project, the books beside them, thick with paper describing all sorts of seafarer knowledge and anatomy of boats. It was currently open to a page that Skipper was copying the colors of. Strix had barely laid his head down between his paws when he heard that condescending laugh, the male slinking through the woods with

The pattering of rain against the rooftop, the soft howling of the wind, the cold drops of water stinging his face through his “suit” as he perched on the edge of a building, feeling the water slick down his back in freezing rivulets. The lenses of his mask were narrowed as he scanned the city below himself, watching the people mill around below him. Next to him perched a much larger individual, the deep black suit and orange nebula a stark contrast to his own, both clearly uncomfortable with one another's presence but still wanting to try and get along. “Hey,” Chiron spoke, his gruff voice breaking the silence between them. Cassiopeia glances over, the lenses of his mask mimicking a quirked brow. He's never spoke while wearing his mask, and he sure as hell isn't taking it off now. “What was the closest moment you had to having your identity revealed?” The question was innocent enough, however it very much felt like a jab towards his secrecy abilities, and Cass couldn't help but

TW: Suggestive Content, Oc x Canon Mars-3110 B, Gravitational Pole, a unique location by all means and one that Miguel was new to frequent, out of character for even himself. Clubs like these were commonplace on Nueva York, some official while others were hidden in dark alleys and suspicious crannies, dingy and dark and definitely not something he found himself interested in. Yet here it was..different. “This is the last time, Miguel, no more visits. Just monitor, assess, and deal with the anomaly.” He mutters to himself under his breath as he fishes his ID from his wallet, flashing it to the bouncer who was already familiar with him, letting him in without even a glance. The music was lively, filled mostly with lonely men who mingled around the bar, sat at tables, or, mostly, standing or sitting in groups around the four outward stages, all with their own unique dancer. Glitter and cash covered the floor, the smell of sweat and perfume and..Other things making the man's head