#I wish I could just howl so loudly rn

[false-lycanthrope]

I FINALLY GOT MY FIRST PROPER TAIL!! I’m so excited about it and I love it so so much! I tried on when I got home and I didn’t want to take it off, it just feels so natural for me to have. It’s the perfect texture and coloration, and even wags like a proper tail. I will definitely share some fun IRL photos when I have the opportunity to wear it more!!

(Also excuse the glare it was very bright outside today!)

[rustic-space-fiddle]

Part 4 – The Grave of Crutchie Morris

Friday morning lit up the city, and Race returned as he promised, bleary eyed with Spot in tow. The crew had planned to expand their area of search by at least two miles, and to check every train station and cabbie service in Manhattan to see if he’d just left town. Jack had spent the majority of the night sketching missing person signs to put up. He’d managed to make fifty of them before he finally blacked out from exhaustion.

They split ito teams of two, each team taking a small stack of Jack’s signs to tack up. Elmer was with Boots, Specs with Mush, and Race with Spot. Jack however, insisted on searching alone. Race thought that was a stupid idea, and said so.

“Get Davey,” he suggested. “He’s smart. Plus he’s better with people.”

“I’m just fine with people,” Jack argued, but the others agreed.

They set out on their search, Jack taking the route that would pass the Jacobs’ household. Davey was eager to help, and Les insisted on tagging along as well, despite Davey’s protests. And off they went again.

Hours passed, and they hadn’t found anything. Some people had recognized the image of Crutchie from times when he had sold them papers, but no one had seen him around for days. Les found a few of his stray newsie friends and told them too, and offered them each a penny to help their search. Davey asked store clerks and grocers to post flyers in their windows, and when they ran out, Jack bought some butchers’ paper and drew more.

At one point, a couple of policemen passed by on their horses, and Les suddenly turned to the older boys with a look of panic. “What if he got rolled up?” he whispered loudly.

Davey quickly looked at Jack. “You think?”

Jack exhaled, grimacing. “I dunno. They don’t roll us up nearly as much now that Teddy shut down Snyder. I mean, I’m pretty sure the guy sent a notice out to leave Crutchie alone. Like him specifically.”

Davey almost laughed. “Are you serious?”

“If I wasn’t, I’d have busted into juvie like two days ago.”

“Did he put one out for you?”

Jack scratched his chin, looking somewhat abashed. “Well, no. He said I’ve stolen too many horses. So I can still get locked up. Ya know, if need be.”

Davey and Les both cackled. “Gotta keep the city safe somehow!” Davey almost howled.

“Look out! It’s Jack the horse thief!” Les hollered. “Even the gov’ner don’t trust him!”

“Oh, shut up,” Jack glared, but he was smiling.

“Come on,” Davey slapped Jack on the shoulder, wiping tears from his eyes. “Let’s keep looking, Horse Thief.”

* * *

Ten hours, twelve minutes, and forty-eight seconds. That’s how Jesse had been walking, leaping over downed trees and climbing over boulders each tacking a few extra seconds onto his trek. He’d been counting his footsteps until he lost track and had to start again, the only way to keep his mind from wandering back to that little Lodging House in Manhattan, New York.

One hundred eight, one hundred nine, one hundred ten…

He had considered stopping to rest, as even immortals can grow weary, but he knew that as soon as sat down, his mind would stand up and read him a sililoquy of guilt.

A rush of hooves exploded off to his right, and four deer away leaped across his path, causing him to stumble backwards before they darted away into the trees and faded from view.

Jesse caught his breath and realized he’d been thinking again. Maybe counting his steps wasn’t helping as much as he thought.

He pulled off his knapsack and dropped it, plopping to the ground and flopping over. He stared up at the canopy of tree branches above him, wishing he could shut his brain off and just not exist for a moment. After a moment he reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter, now wrinkled and damp from the journey.

He unfolded it slowly and read it again.

“They’ve got onto us,” it said. “They know you’re there. Return to Treegap to remap. Love, Father Time”.

Father Time was the code name their father used in messages. Their mother was Mother Time, of course, with Miles and Jesse being First of Time and Last of Time, respectively. If anyone saw their mail, they wouldn’t have their names. It was sort of stupid, Jesse had argued. People have got records now, and besides, they’ve been “dead” for years! What good would these be? But the others had insisted, and despite the many times he rolled his eyes at them, the code names were fun.

He wondered who “they” was. He’d successfully played the part of crippled newsboy for almost six years, and no one had figured him out, as far as he knew. It was amazing how many questions you could avoid by simply donning a crutch.

Granted, that disguise had cost him somewhat. After six years, he’d been so immersed in the role that he’d actually begun to think he might be lame. It had stopped being an act and become a bit of a curse. When he dropped the disguise, it had taken a good two miles or so of forced, shakey, painful steps before his legs finally remembered that they were invincible. Even after all the walking and climbing, they still felt strange. Oddly, he found that he almost missed the pain. It had made him feel strangely human to be so flawed.

“Stupid,” he muttered to himself. What sort of person wished he couldn’t walk? He’d missed running and climbing and leaping and dancing! But as he lay there alone, under the trees, he found he missed being Crutchie Morris, scarred by polio and surrounded by his newsboy brothers. The boy who had nothing, and yet had everything.

What did Jesse have? All the time in the world, and no one to worry about? Maybe he’d have said that six years ago, but now he understood what everyone—his parents, Miles, and even Winnie Foster—had been telling him, and right then, he realized that he’d much rather die with the newsies than spend the rest of eternity alone.

But the world, as cruel as it was, had decided for him.

|||——————————————|||

Part 4 of The Grave of Crutchie Morris. Parts 3, 2, and 1 are under #the grave of Crutchie Morris. I’ll start including links to the other parts, but rn I have no idea how to do that so yEET.

As always plz TELL ME IF THERES GRAMMAR OR SPELLING PROBLEMS and also plz review because idk what I’m doing I’m just making this up as I go lolllllll k thanks! Bai

[labellerose-acheron]

Howl ting jane and Phillip

howl: i was gonna write this about how howl had to ask belle how to do belle's hair but then i remembered they have long glorious hair and so the new reverse HC is that actually -- howl taught belle how to properly condition her hair with like hair masks and stuff. anyway -- i am trying to do these NOT involving my characters so bonus one is:

howl wears black 90% of the time but sometimes he wears very dark blues and will tell people loudly about how they are feeling so brave rn wearing color, just so people pay more attention to their outfit.

ting: mei taught ting ting a bunch of stretches that she could do in her room when playing video games to keep herself from getting too creaky and she used to knock on ting ting's door before going to bed to remind her to stretch <3 (this hc comes to you from my knees currently hurting bc ive been sitting at my desk all day)

jane: sometimes...jane secretly likes trashy romance novels...especially the ones that feature hot pirates and such. she tells no one about this but we all know it is true.

phil: one time, phil found a poem in his bedroom and he couldn't figure out whose it was, figuring it was probably a one night stand's. he claimed it as his own and read it in class and it got really excellent crit...he wishes he could remember who it belonged to.