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#“start with the muzzle” that's great. on a canine or feline face that works! but it doesn't for a sheep bc it doesnt line up the same
doodlboy · 2 months
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I'm in hell actually
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dulcidyne · 6 years
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The Hazards of Inviting Wizards
SFW. Mystic Messenger. RFA+Saeran+V. Halloween AU. [Chapter 1][Chapter 2]Chapter 3/? Summary:The RFA’s Halloween costume party turns into a night of mayhem after Seven offends a wizard.
“You’re...a cat.”
The cat in question heaves another sigh, tapping the marble floor with a white paw. “I’m starting to think you really do have a concussion.”
You ignore him because he’s probably right. Your head is doing a great job of acting as if a swarm of bees have taken up permanent residence between your temples. Everything is buzzing, stinging and painfully loud. You clutch a hand to your forehead mid-wince and jolt when your knuckles brush against the wide rim of your witch hat. The stupid costume hat that had been slipping off all night staying firmly put despite all the damsel antics from before...somehow this is weirder than the talking cat.
Seven. The talking cat. The talking cat who is Seven Zero Seven.
A giggle pops on your lips like bubblegum. Another one follows, and another in rapid jolting gasps that don’t do anything to help the head full of bees situation. But before you know it, you’re laughing so hard, you have to brace your hands against your legs as if you might shake apart from the hilarity at any moment.  
Seven clearly thinks you’ve lost it and humors you with a nervous chuckle of his own. It looks weird to see a cat try to chuckle. Their mouths aren’t made for it and it makes him look like he’s halfway through a sneeze. “I’m going to go see if I can get some help.”
Before the cat can slink away, you stop giggling and gently scoop it up into your arms, skimming your hands through the silky white fur around its neck.
“M--MISS!...W-w-what what are you doing?!”
You frown when your searching fingers don’t hook on a collar. Where did he put it? He didn’t use tape did he? The poor thing. Your hands smooth downward and the cat squirms out your arms with a yowl.
Seven’s bad animal treatment must be contagious.You feel terrible and coo apologetically at the poor creature for manhandling it without warning. “I’m sorry! I was just trying to find where he put the microphone.”
The cat spins to face you, affronted. Long white fur sticks up every which way and you have to keep yourself from reaching out and smoothing it back down. It could pass for Elizabeth the 3rd if it weren’t for the golden eyes--although Jumin would probably disagree vehemently that any other cat could approach the otherworldly beauty of Elizabeth.
“Microphone? This isn’t a prank! It’s really me.”
For half a second, you consider the possibility of a very realistic robot but discard it immediately. Seven is a genius but the movements were too fluid to be anything but real.
“Alright.” You decide to play along. He’s so committed, it’s just less effort to let him think he’s tricked you. “So how’d you turn yourself into a cat?”
“ I didn’t do this. It was the wizard.” You nod to indulge him, your eyes wide as if you’ve been taken in by all this. Speaking slowly, with an animated lilt to your voice, you say, “Of course, that only makes sense.”
Still nodding, you extend your hand towards the cat for a proper introduction. But it doesn’t tentatively sniff your outstretched knuckles or hiss and recoil. Instead, it glances askance at the limb.
“...what are you doing?” How did he manage to train the cat to look like it was speaking? Just one more Seven mystery for the pile. You mean to find out. His pranks aren’t funny if they involve animal cruelty. You wish Jumin hadn’t left, he be much better at handling this traumatized creature.
“Stop that.” Seven demands, exasperation working its way into his voice, tapering it into a feline-sounding hiss at the end. “Look, I may have been wrong about the wizard, alright? And he maybe took offense and decided to put us all under a spell to prove me wrong. I mean, just look around. Everyone’s gone. Your costume is different. I didn’t do any of that.”
Your costume? You glance down and see that he’s right. The skirt brushing over the tops of your knees isn’t the cheap costume-store nylon from before. Black satin edged in gold scrollwork puffs out over a tulle petticoat trailing strands of gold lace stars and crescent moons. When you move, the dark material frothing over your lap catches the light, sparkling glittering green-gold pinpoints.You frown, tugging at an yellow ribbon cinching a small corset into a vee at your waist. Well that’s weird.
The buzzing in your head gets louder and the floor is doing another Tilt-o-Whirl shift but you viciously will back the grey static and focus on Seven’s paws, pressing two small indents into the cloud of fabric around you.
“Miss Coordinator--”
You both hear it at the same time. Worse, you feel it, reverberating deep in your bones. Seven’s fur stands up on end until he’s twice the size of a normal cat and he hisses as another guttural snarl claws out from the shadowed curve of the staircase banister. You have to crane your neck to find the source of the sound--two red points glittering in the dark, as large and vivid as the winking ruby (entirely real and worth millions Seven informed her) pendant on Jumin’s vampire costume. A wisp of residual fog vanishes and a shaft of faint moonlight filters through the tulle draping the windows to catch a silvery line beneath the rubies. As they draw closer and you see more lines etch silver in the dark, tracing gleaming outlines of curved knife-points against the pale shape emerging at the top of the stairs.
“Zen.” Seven says as your mind makes sense of the monster taking shape in front of you. It’s hard to look away from the mouthful of teeth. They must the length of your entire palm, sharp as the butcher’s knives from the kitchen, and glistening bone-white and wet against the snarling muzzle of the animal.
But--but, Zen would never hurt either of you. Just like Jumin didn’t hurt either of you. Sharp teeth or no, it was still Zen . Zen the Knight. Gallant and sweet and eye-rollingly corny. All men are wolves . But not literally right? .
The wolf--no, werewolf --pauses and drops down to all fours, tension coiling beneath the rippling white fur and you can’t stop your scream when he leaps over the balustrade, the floor groaning and shuddering violently around you beneath his bulk. Claws gouge furrows into the marble just centimeters from your skirts as you lunge away just in time to avoid snapping jaws. Tiny needles dig into your shoulder, a weight pressing you down to the marble as you yelp out in surprise. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a small paw swiping out as if to bat away the mouthful of fangs cutting through the air just above you, sluicing spittle down their treacherous curved points.
“Seven!” You scream, snatching his furry body into the crook of your arm as you reach out with the other and hope desperately that your hunch is right and that the thing with the fog wasn’t just some weird fluke.
It’s as if someone’s lit off a dozen sparklers in front of your face. They pop and fizzle, throwing embers into the air, some of them landing on the snarling, furry muzzle. A canine yelp and a pitiful whine echo through the banquet hall and before the brilliant afterimages fade from your retinas, a voice cuts through the furor.
“Did you hurt him? You tried to didn’t you?”
Relief sags through your shoulders and if you could collect your shaking limbs off the floor, you’d run over to her and sweep Jaehee into the biggest, tightest hug. Only...once your dazzled eyes manage to track her through the gold, glittering smoke left by your magic fireworks, you see that she is furiously scowling at you from the staircase. Her straw basket bounces against her hip as she adjusts her glasses to leverage the scariest look you’ve ever seen Jaehee use against another person. It’s a look you’ve seen her direct (frequently) at Seven, even Jumin. But you’ve never seen it, the full indignant glory of it, aimed at you.
“A witch--I can only presume to be of the wicked variety given your treatment of my beloved dog.”
Maybe...a hug would be a bad idea.
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The Science Of Fear And Why Individuals Believe In The Astonishing.
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