#anyway furry habit

[markiza297]

brainrot continues

I swear to god I won't stop drawing everyanimalHYBRID til one of you comes to my house and forcefully takes all of my drawing supplies from me

This brings me so much joy i loved every second of drawing it i love every second i think about this silly little au

[ohnoitsz1m]

Uhh post canon Barney

Man who has not had a break since the rescas and refuses to start now. Alyx and Gordon are hiding his gear as we speak while Kleiner distracts him.

I was sposed to do Alyx too but I blinked and it was 3 am so. Next time

Oh also I forgot to make a note but he does carry a sidearm

[myriadebleue]

Near the start of october, something possessed me to draw hualian as disney lions.

[fangyymusic]

Happy Sunburst Sunday!

Reblog art that you enjoy.

[paradoxical-machine]

Me? Making and posting art?? Unheard of

Anyways heres my avali Jester :3

[kitsuraki]

So my sister and I did a collab sketch with a commission. He wanted it of his furry character , and since we were cosplaying mulder and scully, he requested it xfiles themed. We were ecstatic to comply

This was my favourite sketch commission I ever done. Unfortunately I wasnt around when he picked it up, but apparently he loved it and gave permission to "spread it far and wide"

My sister drew scully, the lettering and the poster, I did the rest

Character's credit :

[yo9urt]

guys i kind of love being graduated

[thelov3lybookworm]

Cat claws

Day 2: Scarred.

Summary: Maybe he can forgive Nuts.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1177

Warnings: cat being mean to hazel :(

A/n: azzie just loses his mind in tis lmao nd you cant blame him hazel's the most adorable little thing ever 🥹 yall just wait till she begins talking azs going to sob his eyes out (subtle foreshadowing 🎀)

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel watched, amused, as Hazel attempted to crawl towards the black furry creature that sat in the corner licking its paw.

Hazel had only started crawling a week or so ago, and Azriel absolutely loved watching her drag herself around. It was often amusing to see her get angry when the carpet slowed down her movements when it caught on her clothes, or when she bumped into the couch and glared at it.

She would always turn to search for Azriel when that happened, letting out the loudest yell her tiny body could muster as if ordering him to get rid of the offending item.

Even barely eight months old, Y/n always said Hazel had her father’s ability to glare and grumble.

Azriel always scoffed in return to that statement before forcing himself to stop and realise him being grumpy only proved his mate’s words to be true.

Hazel was currently looking at her father with her brows furrowed, and Azriel blinked, coming back to the present as he realised she was trying to move over the carpet. He grinned at the anger on her face and stood, bending down once he was close enough to pick her up.

He set her down closer to the cat Y/n had insisted on getting after Hazel’s birth, her reasoning being that their daughter needed a friend and then named him Nuts.

Hazel and her best friend Nuts.

‘Get it? Hazel-Nuts’ She had giggled.

It made Azriel laugh back when she had suggested it, but soon enough he’d realised she was not joking. At all.

Azriel watched on with a smile as Hazel reached Nuts and tried to grab his fur. Nuts walked away without a look in her direction, which always pissed Azriel off. Who did the creature think it was?

"Azriel, that’s a cat. He does not understand how to act with a baby-" Y/n called out from the kitchen, having peeked into the living room to see what had caused her mate to get so mad that his emotions reached her through the bond.

"Well how long does it take to learn? I swear to the mother one day I'm kicking him out if he continues to bully my daughter."

Azriel heard Y/n sigh and walk closer to him as Hazel crawled towards Nut again. He now sat closer to the hearth, where a fire burned red to ward off the winter chill that was beginning to set over Velaris.

"Az-"

But Azriel did not hear the rest of Y/n’s sentence.

His ears began ringing as he stepped forward as if in a daze, eyes sharp on the raised paw of Nuts, who, having seen Hazel get close to him again, tried to hit her.

The firelight glinted off his claws.

And then Hazel’s loud cries filled the room as her head reared back, eyes clenched shut in pain.

She had a habit of flopping on her back when she was mad. Azriel had never really worried too much about that particular habit of Hazel’s until now, when she was too close to the fire and the tiniest movement would end up with her-

No, Azriel did not want to complete the thought.

In that moment of panic, Azriel did not care that there was a glass covering separating the fire from the room, and that no matter what Hazel did, she would not be able to be burned.

In that moment all that mattered to Azriel was that the fucking cat living in his house had the audacity to hurt his daughter.

Azriel grabbed Hazel, frantically looking over her to check for her injuries. There weren’t any big claw marks, but the tiny scratch on the chubby flesh of her upper arm connecting it to her shoulder made Azriel see red.

He turned to glare at Y/n as he pulled Haze close.

"I am telling you Y/n. If by the time I return, that bastard is not out of this house, I will drop him into the sidra myself."

Y/n’s eyes were helpless, but Azriel did not wait for a moment longer as he walked out of the main door and took flight, his only mission to find Madja and get his daughter healed.

He did not want her to be scarred like the hands cradling her.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Flying back home, Azriel decided that he needed some time alone to figure out why he had reacted so harshly.

He knew Y/n had been right. Nuts was an animal. He did not understand how to treat babies. But Azriel did not want to admit that.

The stars were out, so clearly visible as Azriel flew his daughter back home. It had been over an hour since he’d left the house in such a hurry, wishing he could strangle the cat.

He had taken to the skies after Madja had assured him that Hazel would be fine, and had his emotions not been so high and panicked, maybe Hazel wouldn’t have cried at all. After long moments of being assured by Madja, Azrie finally calmed down and left.

"I’m sorry baby. Did I scare you?" Azriel mumbled, glancing down at his daughter who stared up at the sky with wide eyes. She only giggled back in answer.

The innocence in the sound made Azriel smile.

The smile faded just as quick as it had come when his eyes fell on his hands cradling her head and back.

They once were soft and smooth like Hazel’s. They once had grabbed his own parents hand with as much love as he now grasped his daughters. Only now, they were uglier.

If Y/n heard his thoughts, she would have yelled at him and forced him to say they were beautiful. But Azriel knew better. They weren’t, and they never would be.

The only thing he liked even a little about his hands was the fact that their texture was so different from other’s hands, Hazel always immediately figured out she was in her father’s arms.

Y/n always talked about how the same scarred hands he despised were the reason she and Hazel felt safe. Those words echoed back to Azriel when he began doubting himself. It always made him feel better.

Hazel squealed loudly when Azriel dipped lower, air pushing gently against her back.

She was so pure, so innocent. She did not even know of the cruel world she was born in.

And Azriel swore to keep it that way. He had hoped the world outside his father’s dungeon would be better, once, and quickly realised that there were people in the world that would pounce at the chance to scar innocent souls just for the sadistic pleasure of ruining their lives.

He did not want her soul to turn out as scarred as his too.

As he finally landed on the front porch of his home and heard loud meow’s coming from inside, he contemplated letting the cat stay.

Maybe a cat’s claw scratch was not that bad.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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@okaytrashpanda

[midnightwriter21]

jjk hcs: satoru gojo meeting soulmate!reader

characters: satoru gojo x reader, mentions of megumi, yuji, nobara, and principal yaga

warnings: language, mentions of a giant spider

AN: AS PROMISED!!! the soulmate gojo fic!! i’m a sucker for non-sorcerer!reader x gojo. so if u want a version with a sorcerer reader lmk!!!

edit: sorcerer!reader version is published!! read it HERE

- soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed in their handwriting somewhere on your body!!!

SATORU GOJO

you’re working at a small, family-run cafe

which just so happens to be quite close to jujitsu high school

it’s quite often that students and staff from the school are stopping at the cafe for a quick snack, coffee, and sometimes lunch

and due to an unfortunate run in with a low grade curse during a rush, you are very aware of the jujutsu world

principal yaga himself exorcised the curse when he was on his lunch break at the cafe

usually you’re working in the kitchen, baking, whilst someone else takes orders

until a coworker of yours calls in sick at the last minute… so ur on ur own rip

taking orders, cooking, serving, all of the above on your own

the 3 first year jujutsu high students, megumi, yuji, and nobara come into the cafe after a mission

they place their orders and megumi tells you that their sensei would be joining them shortly, with yuji letting you know that their sensei would also be picking up the bill

as if it would even put a dent in gojo’s wallet

anyways after taking their orders you walk into the kitchen to begin making their food and drinks

as you get to work, gojo walks into the cafe, joining his students at their table

you’re rushing around the kitchen, flour stuck to the font of your shirt, hair sticking out in different directions

trying to get the food cooked and out to them in a timely manner

and the world is just not on your side today because guess what shows up in your kitchen…

a cursed spirit

but not any cursed spirit

a cursed spirit in the form of a spider

a GIANT spider with what seems like a million eyes, the 8 legs, kinda furry looking

oh and did i mention it was giant? by giant I mean it stood at abt 6ft tall

two words: hell. nah.

when you turn away from the stove and find it standing behind you

you, like any normal person, let out an eardrum shattering screech of terror and back away from it as fast as possible

backing yourself into the corner of the room, with no room to escape…

the 3 first years and their sensei hear your scream and spring into action, running into the kitchen to defend you

that’s a lie

the 3 first years run to defend you

their sensei takes his time, sauntering towards the kitchen with his hands in his pockets

bastard

the kitchen door slams open as the 3 first years spring through the door, with yuji pouncing on the curse

the pink haired boy delivers a heavy punch, knocking the spider curse away from you

you take the chance to run

yeah girl it’s better to give them their space fr, yuji has a habit of punching through walls with his bare hands

you run through the door, looking behind you towards the scene, and you run head first into what feels like a brick wall

before you fall onto your ass, you feel two large hands latch onto your shoulders to steady you

“woah! don’t go falling for me already.. we just met.”

you look up at the voice, finding a man with stark white hair, a blindfold, and a cocky smirk

adrenaline coursing through your body you don’t even process the man’s words and you find yourself babbling almost unintelligibly to the man

“kill it! please kill it! i can’t stand spiders!”

the mans grip on your shoulders tighten slightly before he releases you, pushing you behind him, chuckling quietly with a “anything for you, sweetheart”

and with the flick of his wrist the spider curse literally explodes

staring at the tall man in both shock and awe, you don’t realize until you smell smoke

“THE FOOD IS BURNING SHIT!” and your running back into the kitchen to see if anything is salvageable

it’s not lol but honestly the food is the last thing on anyone’s mind

as you throw the ruined food away, the same hands from earlier sit themselves on your shoulders again, turning you around

“so… if i’m gonna actually get you to fall for me, i’m gonna need your number.” and there’s a phone thrust in your face

and at his words you remember his earlier statement to you, “woah! don’t go falling for me already.. we just met.”

you look up at him in shock, putting a hand on your forearm, over your soulmate mark with those exact words covering your skin

and he just smirks and pulls the sleeve of his uniform up to show you his own forearm

and printed in your own handwriting is your terror filled words from earlier, “kill it! please kill it! i can’t stand spiders!”

as the blush crawls up your neck and into your cheeks he laughs, throwing an arm around your shoulders and saying, “so.. does this mean I get free sweets from now on?”

[mariaxman]

Hello!

Might I request a romantic fluff fanfic for Hank McCoy and a Gender Neutral reader? Maybe just some morning cuddles?

BEAST X READER

Resume: your husband tries to sneak away on his day off. How dare he!

A/N: I Kinda lost track, there’s still cuddle but it’s not only that😭

The soft glow of the early morning sun creep trough the blinds, hitting the back of your head. You were woken up by Hank sloooowly trying to slide out of bed. You hum lowly and curl in on yourself, wrapping an arm over your husband, clinging onto Hank like your life depended on it. It wasn’t even 7 AM yet and he was trying to get out of bed!

‘’Mh.. hon, stay here..’’

You mumble groggily, wrapping your legs around his furry waist

‘’I need to get to work, my dear’’

He whispers in your ear with a peck to the cheek.

‘’Can’t you stay just a while longer? It’s not even 7 yet..’’

You hum against his neck. Hank sighs, wrapping his arms around you in a loving embrace, while you cling to him like a koala.

‘’I guess I can, can’t I?’’

You smile and finally open your tired eyes, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him

‘’Why were you even trying to get up so early anyways? It’s Sunday. You don’t work on Sunday’’

Beast swipes a thumb across your cheek to push away a stray lock of hair.

‘’It is a force of habit I suppose, my love’’ you chuckle and hold his hand, intertwining your fingers together

‘’Well, you’ll need to break it someday’’ he hums and rest his chin atop your head when you nuzzle yours to his chest. You eyes flutter closed with a content sigh

‘’Go to sleep, hon..’’

Your husband mutters in your hair

‘’I will if you promise you won’t sneak away to your lab if I do’’

The man let’s put a chuckle and cuddles you closer.

‘’I promise’’

<33

[patricia-taxxon]

hi, sorry if this is something you've said before and I missed it, but since conceptualizing Amber and Avery, has the way you want to be addressed by the parasocial internet hoard changed at all? is Patricia Taxxon still a singular entity that goes by she/it? Or are they a group of two entities who individually go by she/it and collectively are they/them in the plural sense?

it occurs to me that when I reblogged you yesterday I used plural they/them out of the habit I've formed talking about other systems I know, but its been bothering me since then that like, you never told people to do that, and it feels weird to they/them you even in the completely epicene "multiple entities" sense without your go-ahead. i know that your self conceptualization at this point is more complicated than "i'm definitely a plural system" so there's that too.

anyway, hope you're faring well, and I basically just want to be able to refer to you comfortably. see you on the internets

Thanks for asking, I'm not entirely sure yet. I'm still using singular first person pronouns naturally, cus it feels like I'm one point of view exchanging emotions, preferences, and identity between two different consistent clusters of traits that I call Avery and Amber. Which one I am at any given time is only really crucial information for my friends who have to talk with me. It helps to personify us sometimes, like when I feel Avery clambering to front, but it probably won't be important for everyone in my audience to participate. Patricia is still one entity that prefers she or it.

Basically, the only boundary that I think concerns most of you, cute dog furry asks are fine but cute raccoon asks are not. Avery just likes indulging in roleplaying as a dumb animal wayyyyy more.

[ennaku-sirri-da]

[ ID: Digital fanart of a headshot of Dr Habit from Smile For Me the game made till slightly above his chest. Its in a 3 by 4 view. This is a furry version of him as a borzoi dog. The style is simple, smooth and cartoony.

Habit grins easily, his tongue out and eyes looking calm, ears flopping at a lower level. His figure is done in a light, pale grayscale except for the black hat. BG is a mild orange-yellow. End ID]

What if i made him into a fursuit

What if he had a little voice clip that played if you pinch him nose....

[alexaloraetheris]

Ohgod I fucked up

Kitten has a bad habit of waking me up by fucking zooming straight into my face like a furry facehugger. Bad but no amount of flailing and screaming made her stop.

Today. Today she missed. She didn't get a good grip

I was laying on my back. Upon being startled I sat up like Rasputin on a pyre and fucking CATAPULTED MY CAT TOWARDS THE WINDOW

SHE MADE A CARTOONISH SPLAT SOUND

WHICH IS GOOD BECAUSE THAT MEANS THE WINDOW WAS AT LEAST CLOSED. IT USUALLY ISN'T.

Anyway kitten is currently avoiding me and I am fighting back a heart attack.

Whether she learns anything from this remains to be seen.

[cakelitter]

Home Sweet Home .・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜

summary: a drabble about what I think Leon's home would look like

Words: 785

a/n: this came out a bit more depressing than i would've thought lol, but hope you enjoy

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜

・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜

Leon is more of an apartment guy, no specific reason for that, just preference. He can most definitely buy himself a nice house with a spacious backyard in one of the nicest neighborhoods, his job might be shitty but it pays real well, a compensation for his mental wellbeing like he likes to say. But reality is he is lonely and having a big house would only amplify that feeling, instead he opted to buy a decently sized apartment in a quite neighborhood with two bedrooms incase someone visits, no one really will but it's nice to be optimistic for a change.

He would be a liar if he said that he wasn't living in an empty apartment with nothing other than a couch facing an empty wall and a sad mattress for the first 3 months after moving in. Leon is many things but an interior decorator is not one of them. When he eventually came around to furnishing, he only bought a couple of necessities, a dining table that can fit 6 people even though he doubts he even knows that many people anyways, a bed, dresser blah blah blah. The décor is lackluster to say the least, and as far as color scheme goes, mostly black and gray cause those are the easiest to clean.

However he did try to bring in some life into his apartment by buying a plant! He named him Hank... he died a few weeks later but he really wasn't shocked to be completely honest, who knew plants were this codependent. Unfortunately Hank's withered body remains in his living room, he doesn't really have the heart to throw him away. He did consider at one point adopting a furry friend to keep him company, you know , to have someone greet him at the front door when he comes back home, perhaps someone that misses him and anticipates his return could feel nice, but Hank's presence or the lack there of, is a constant reminder to him that he does not possess the capabilities of caring for someone.

You can't technically blame him for the lack of personality in his apartment since he is barely home anyways. He simply just wants a place to rest and rewind after a long day before getting up and repeating the cycle all over again, matter of a fact when apartment hunting his requirements for his new home were:

Has a roof

Not rat infested like the last one

Has windows

Listen, this poor unfortunate soul had the displeasure of sleeping in not the most ideal of places, such as sleeping in a room with 15 other men during his time in the government training program. And he thought that was as bad as it gets... that was until he had to experience sleeping in a dusty, cold cave with no sleeping bag during one of his missions, his body felt like it was in shambles for weeks afterwards. So, he would really appreciate not having Remy the rat as a roommate in his new home.

His apartment is pretty tidy for the most part but does he have the habit of stacking laundry on the chair in his room cause he's too lazy to actually put them away? Yes, but he's an adult with no will to live and insomnia so cut him some slack would you?

The fridge would be as empty as the right side of his bed if it wasn't for the few beers he always keeps on hand, you know for emotional support and the left overs of the takeout he ordered the night before. He once made the mistake of buying a couple of vegetables before leaving on a mission and came back to a whole eco system growing in his fridge drawer, pain in the ass to clean.

His bathroom cabinet is filled with enough painkillers, bandages, band-aids, plasters ,and burn cream to supply a whole hospital. As for his shower rack, it holds his expensive shampoo bottle, shower gel and believe it or not conditioner. Leon Kennedy is a man with not many fears, after all he's seen everything, however the idea of looking in the mirror one day and seeing a reflection of himself with a shiny bald head is enough to make him drop to his knees. Hence taking proper care of his hair is vital for him, and even made the effort of consulting Claire for some tips.

He keeps a pistol in the drawer of his bedside table cause it's better to be safe than sorry right? Is that his paranoia speaking? Absolutely. But he's not willing to test his luck on whether someone would break in or not.

・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜

[littlelostmabari]

Some Galemancing fluff for @sorceresssundries and @miradelletarot and @gale-force-storm who fill my dash so reliably with the delicious wizard.

Gale x f!Reader, post-epilogue. (Reader unnamed, referred to as she/her/wife) Word Count: 2.2k

Edit: Now on AO3!

The evening sun threatens to kiss the horizon across the bay of Waterdeep as you weave your fingers through the feathery fur of your favorite four-legged companion.

Well, the closest four-legged companion, you laugh to yourself as you hear a familiar roar from a floor above where Karlach and the owlbear were no doubt tussling in the arcane arena your darling wizard had installed in the upper levels of his newly conjured tower. She arrived from Avernus a few hours ago with some rage to burn, and Nugget was always willing to practice new ways to defend his nest. His home.

“Your hand is on the page, pet,” Tara purrs. Your thoughts are quickly brought back to the balcony and the sunset, your hand naturally moving back to the delicate fur on the top of Tara’s head. You run her fingers down the tressym’s neck and back, finally scratching the base of Tara’s tail — just as you know she likes it — before resting back on the bench. You’ve purposefully avoided Tara’s reading material this time. The apprentice Aribella rests on her stomach on the ground nearby, her legs kicking up into the air as she hems and haws over the bud that won’t quite open into bloom from her palm. The violent magic of nature's wrath had been easy for her to draw on after her experience with the druid totem, but under Gale’s tutelage she was slowly learning the calmer patterns of the Weave. She focuses intently on her latest homework to druidcraft a flower crown for her constant canine companion.

Speaking of, Scratch had been noticeably absent from Aribella’s side. You feel a frown cross your face, and find your eyes drawn deeper into the dim light of the tower. The study had slowly gotten messier the longer you had lived there, an awesome wreck after only a few months (although Gale often commented that since there was a wide pathway through the mess, technically it wasn’t hoarding). Aribella devoured books the same way Tav imagined Gale did at her age. There were tomes lying on every surface: open, closed, dog-eared, bookmarked, stacked to the ceiling. No one but Gale and Aribella knew which projects were active and which had been discussed, debated, discarded.

The piano in the corner played a new tune, a soft baudy jingle that you had accidentally brought home from your most recent night out with Alfira and the other tiefling refugees from the Grove. No, not refugees, not anymore. They had found their homes in Baldur’s Gate, and you visited the Elfsong Tavern as often as you could — you knew all Alfira’s songs at this point but loved absorbing the joy from the room as she played... But the piano had a terrible habit of catching any tune hummed in its presence, a constant bittersweet reminder of the distance to your friends.

Not seeing a white furry tail wagging from this distance, you murmur an apology to Tara, who fluffs her feathers indignantly. She digs claws just the other side of painfully into your lap as if to dare you to get up. Knowing she will be just fine without you, you take in one hand your empty wine glass, then close your eyes and gently tug on your connection to the Weave. A misty step cruelly leaves Tara with only a conjured pillow for comfort. Tara would call it cruel, anyway, regardless of Gale’s gentle warming spell that forever permeated the pillow slip. The tressym narrows her eyes without leaving her most recent tome — her only other reaction reaching out with a back leg to scratch a spot behind her ear.

With a chuckle, you absentmindedly bring the glass to your lips, remembering at once that it was empty. To the kitchen then.

The noise is the first thing to reach you. It is uncommonly loud for your little tower (ignoring the more recent arcane stories), even considering its normal inhabitants. You had grown used to raucous laughter from your many adventures, but it had been too long since it echoed within these walls. You pause with one hand just barely touching the door into the parlor, smiling contently as a soft memory of bedrolls and looted wine and butter buns crosses the forefront of your memory.

“And then… and then…” you hear Wyll’s tenor deep into another story, laughing so hard he can’t find the words. “The kid asks me if I’ve ever bested an owlbear!” Another ringing laugh joins in, then, and you find yourself pushing the door open. Your eyes land first on your dearest, closest friend, currently desperately trying to pat down a growing wine spill on the ruffles of her white shirt. Shadowheart brushes hair and tears out of her eyes. “I’m sure you then told the poor lad that you fought back-to-back with an armored Nugget? Just to see the soul leave his eyes?”.

Wyll nods. “I did, I did! And the kid just stood there staring at me… and then he turned on his heel and left the tavern! Fool trying to out-match the Blade of Avernus!” The two dissolve into another fit of giggles, uninterrupted by your entrance into the parlor. The door swings shut behind you with a soft reverberation, and Shadowheart’s eyes brighten to meet yours. She points at her shirt and winks; you gently pluck at the Weave and the wine stain is gone, prestidigitated to wherever those lost memories go. You reach out for Shadowheart… before ducking the hug and stealing her wine glass. A hearty laugh follows you to the other side of the parlor as Shadowheart rises from her stool and chases after you with a sudden hug from behind. You feel the soft echo of magic between the two of you, knowledge of each other harmonizing. Wyll swings around the table to refill both glasses, a lingering kiss on your cheek on the way.

“I’m so glad you both made it,” you smile to two of your dearest friends. “I heard Karlach come in earlier, she’s still upstairs.”

Wyll nods. “We missed Mizora by this much,” he sighs, bringing his pointer finger and thumb to a centimeter apart before looking up and out to the entrance to the upper floors. “She’ll be alright come dinnertime.”

“And who exactly are we having for dinner tonight?” a smirking voice sings from the end of the room as the door to the bustling outside world closes with a sharp click. His arrival had been expected… arrived last night in fact, with business in Waterdeep important enough to go out cloaked rather than waiting for the sun to set.

“Depends, Astarion, would you prefer the red wine or the white? I’m sure Gale could make some recommendations,” Shadowheart snorts. Laughter meets the wrinkle of Astarion’s nose as he removes his deep purple enchanted cloak to hang at the side. There are still too few outer layers missing from the coat closet --- friends yet to arrive for the celebration.

As if summoned by the hungry rumble of your belly — and knowing your husband, it probably was — a platter of cheese, cured meats, and pickled bits and bobs appeared within arms reach. Shadowheart and Wyll lunge in competition for first taste, and you decide you'd prefer your first bite directly from the source. 

The kitchen is only across the hall, a single sip of wine away. Laughter fades gently into the clink of dishware and the soft hum of another song you had brought home from the Gate. This one was a moving tune in three-four time, and the soft pat of house shoes suggested the kitchen's occupant was floating about his dinner prep with perfect rhythm. 

You push the door open gently, mindful of its creak so as to not disrupt one of your favorite sights in this tower. His hands are in his hair, again, pulling another traitorous lock back from where it had escaped from the bun he sports when he is at his most focused. You had left him to his work this afternoon, as he had requested, which meant no one had been around to tell him which spots of gray were his natural coloring and which were simply dashes of flour. The chorus of the waltz rises, his hands back at his hips as he surveys another recipe written carefully by his mother into a book that was so lovingly used you'd insisted on rebinding last year for his nameday. He balances on the balls of his feet, prepared to move the moment he knows what comes next. 

Time slows around you as you watch him slide between dishes, one stirred with mage hand, another whipped by an unseen servant. He tastes each, seasons one, and spins through a crescendo in the source-less music, intent on the oven. It is in this turn that he spies you leaning against the wall with the door closed softly behind you. 

If the kitchen had been completely frozen over, his smile would have melted it all away in an instant. 

“My love!”

You can feel the effort it takes for him to drag his eyes away from you, but a short ring from the oven indicates something desperately needs his attention more than you.

He pulls a kitchen towel from the ether and wrestles the roast from the oven under his own power. His mother insists that this particular recipe out of all of those tucked away in her book must be done with mortal, mundane hands. When it is safely secured on the trivet (quickly set in place by an unseen servant), he brushes the day's mess from his palms and rushes to your side. 

“As always you have the most impeccable timing, my darling.” 

Gale has many different kisses, you have come to learn. Some, like those he left on your forehead and nose and lips this morning as he crawled from bed, ignoring your pleas to sleep in, were soft and kind and loving. Those kisses were reserved for sleepy minds and moments in between moments. Others, like those you anticipated would follow the last of your friends succumbing to slumber this evening, were deep and pressing. Those kisses begged for the barriers between two souls alight with desire to be sundered so that the two could become a single being of light and love. 

And then there were the kisses like the one he pressed into you now. These were promises of tonight and tomorrow and the next day and next year and forever. These were the kisses that made you hope, that drove your soul to the gentle smile of one who loves and is loved in return. It was the kind of kiss that he had pulled you into when Shadowheart had called out to the temple “man and wife”. 

One hand reaches down to your waist, pulling you away from the wall and into the warmth of his body. The other passes up to your jawline where his fingers press gently into the back of your neck. When he finally relents, a crooked grin alights across his face. He has evidently left something of dinner behind on your jaw, which he wipes away with a quick rub of his thumb, and with a soft breath he brings to your lips. The taste is sour and sweet, the tang of lemon and honey glaze — 

“I believe that particular flavor is meant for the roast, my dear,” you murmur, pressing your tongue against the flat of his thumb.

“Ah, you would be correct. The time is long past that I attempt to improve upon a lover's perfection.” He leans in and presses more than casually into your core, his next murmurs meant for your ears only with how he nibbles gently on your neck. “Besides, I have other flavors in mind when it comes to complementing your particular essence…

“But!” He pushes away suddenly, and you have to catch yourself from falling into the space he leaves. “That discussion must be put on pause for the time that our long-awaited guests have found their lodgings and I am able to devote my full attention away from this feast.” His smile and the crinkles around his eyes betray his teasing — you both know you must leave him to work if your guests are to be fed anywhere near on time. He leans in only once more to press a kiss of the first kind onto the tip of your nose, and then rapidly shoves a basket of garlic and spring onion rolls into your unoccupied hand. “I am certain my beloved has many a song or story that can distract from her husband's deplorable time management.”

A sizzle of an over-boiled pot pulls his attention away. You linger just long enough to see that errant lock fall back into his face once more, before you turn toward the door and hallway that will allow your return to the gentle bubble of companionship. 

You should enjoy the evening with your dearest friends, for Gale will be here tomorrow when they have left — some for Avernus, others for the Gate, and others back to lives hidden and quiet. 

When they are gone, Gale will remain, and perhaps you will learn what his newest kisses taste like. 

[bottle-of-harpoons]

Sorry for pushing my autistic furry agenda on you guys but I can't control it.

Anyway, crack submas sonic au.

They are jackals (mainly because of the black and white colour scheme). They're freakishly tall and very silly.

There isn't any deep lore to this, they're just a bunch of furrys who are very dedicated to their train.

Ingo has a droopy ear because, as a kid, he used to be very self-cautious of his stern expression. It's his way of making himself look less intimidating. He still does it out of habit.

Emmet doesn't take shit from anyone. He knows people think he's weird but he doesn't care. If you disrespect his train or his brother, he'd probably run you down.

They also have Barry and Infinite working for them due to shenanigans.

Here are the older designs