The Rise Of CuteGuy

Magic

The investigation was moving forward smoothly, but what I didn’t expect was how different working with Cute Guy would feel in this kind of setting. I mean, sure, he was still chaotic and brought his own kind of light to everything, but there was this strange calm to him now. He wasn’t as carefree as he used to be when we were patrolling or in the middle of chaos. He was… thoughtful. Critical, even, in a way I wasn’t used to seeing from him.

He had this way of reading people, of picking up on the little things that everyone else missed. It was like he could see deeper into things, almost like he could feel out the truth without even speaking. It was fascinating, and honestly a little intimidating at times. He would often use his magic—his purple mist—to show me things that my tired eyes couldn’t catch. Subtle body language, small inconsistencies in interviews, even things hidden in plain sight that I didn’t realize I was overlooking. He made it look easy. Beautiful, even.

His magic was mesmerizing, flowing from him like an extension of himself. But it drained him, too. Every time he used it, I could see the way it took something out of him. He’d go from being so alert and sharp to looking a little more worn, a little more tired. It didn’t take long before he’d be curled up on the couch in my office, fast asleep, his wings folded neatly against his back, his breathing even and soft.

And there I was, sitting at the desk, buried in paperwork, sorting through computer files, trying to piece everything together while he rested. It felt almost domestic, the way our roles naturally formed. I would finish what he couldn’t, and when he woke up, we’d dive back into the investigation.

There were moments, though, when I would just stop and look at him, taking in the peacefulness of him being so calm for once. The same chaotic, unpredictable CG that I had missed so much was here, in a way I hadn’t expected—different, yes, but still him. And for the first time in a while, it felt like things were… okay.

I didn’t know how long this would last—how long this quiet, domestic partnership would last—but for now, I appreciated it. It was grounding, and maybe I didn’t know how much I needed that until I saw it in him.

Every so often, I’d look up from the piles of paperwork and catch sight of him, and there it was—one of those subtle shifts that always seemed to happen without me noticing. He’d start sitting up, probably in some attempt to stay alert or not fall asleep, but then just like that, without a sound or even a shift in the air, he’d curl up on the couch. It was almost like his body just instinctively knew how to relax, how to rest in the moment.

What always fascinated me, though, was how he used his wings. They’d unfurl just enough to tuck around himself, like a blanket, cocooning him in this soft, protective layer. His wings were so much a part of him, and seeing them wrapped around him, almost like a comfort, was… surprisingly endearing. His feathers were so soft and seemed to glimmer slightly in the light, and when he curled up, it was like everything else just faded away, leaving him in this almost peaceful, serene state.

I didn’t want to disturb him, not when he looked so comfortable. But there were moments when I’d glance over and see him so still, so small in that vulnerable position, and it made me smile to myself. The chaotic energy he always carried seemed to slip away when he was resting. And when his wings were wrapped around him like that, there was this sense of calm, this almost fragile sense of peace that made him seem more... human. More grounded.

It was a side of him I didn’t often see—the side that wasn’t rushing into chaos or charging headfirst into a fight. But it was still him, just a quieter version. A version that, for some reason, I found myself getting used to.

Mumbo’s entrance was always accompanied by his usual energy, the kind that filled the room in an instant. He wasn’t shy about making his presence known, and as usual, he had something to show off—this time, a new batch of equipment he had crafted. The hum of his excitement buzzed through the air as he made his way over, but of course, he couldn’t resist the temptation to poke fun at Cute Guy, who had somehow managed to drift off on the couch.