#paws are way easier to draw than hands

[5spot4fterdark]

flori de mai

[voices-in-dark-violets-head]

"Be Yourself", says the Furry Fandom.

And yet, as with many things in life, it's far easier said than done.

I've found that 'being myself' can take a lot of bravery, but I want to tell you why it's so, so important.

Storytime!

At Eurofurence this year, I ran the e621 Gameshow for the third year in a row. And for the third year in a row, we were over capacity. As in, security-comes-in-to-tell-people-to-leave levels of over capacity (Which, my dear sympathies once again with those who had to go!)

We had a crowd that was there for an hour and a half of weird furry porn. Who cheered for horsecock. Who delighted in Falco Lombardi macro art. A hundred people - a quarter of the room - gleefully admitted to being into vore.

The atmosphere was electric, and I hadn't even needed my e-stim kit. This was a crowd who rejoiced in the adult side of the fandom!

And then I asked them - how many people had a fetish they'd be nervous admitting to?

A third of the room raised their hands.

In a room that had been laughing moments earlier about the amount of Mufasa/Simba porn, or getting a 100% success rate on guessing popular cock shapes, 1/3 of them weren't confident in revealing those same parts of themselves.

I don't think this is rare.

I've had folks ask me if I get hate for the kind of art I draw (not really much at all, by the way). But worse, I get people telling me - they wish they could draw what they want, write the characters they love… but they fear what others might say.

I've had commissioners remain anonymous, for fear of people knowing what they're into. Known artists start up alt accounts, so that they can draw a kink without their friends knowing. Writers wringing their hands over possible reactions to their stories.

And I would love to tell you it's all just fear - but truth is, it isn't.

Because it ain't just the big patron sites that are swinging the axe on the 'too weird'. Our own sites - our communities - sharpen their restrictions. Whole kinks, loving and accepted, are now 'too far'.

We're fearing the gaze from the outside. We're hearing their derision. And that can scare us, cause us to hide not just ourselves, but those around us. "What if they think that I'm into that? What would they say? I need to prove I'm not!"

We all crave love and acceptance. And in a fandom formed in rejection from society, don't we just hold such ideals even more tightly? So much so that the very idea of this same community throwing us out - for being ourselves? Of course it's terrifying.

But it turns out, even us outcasts, outsiders… we can all hold prejudices. We all have the ability to draw lines, and give too little thought to what that means. We can so easily turn our own opinions, our fear of what others think of us, into rules that hurt and exclude.

And therein lies the issue. "Be yourself", says the fandom, without stopping to consider how treacherous, how thorned that path can be. To be yourself, sometimes, is to suffer the disgust of those who would tell you to do it in the first place.

But… I'm missing something.

Thing is, this fandom isn't based on any one thing. We're not just here because Zootopia was a kinda cool movie, or Twokinds is pretty sexy, or StarFox looks good when he's fifteen stories tall.

We follow no one IP, no webcomic, no TV show. We follow only one thing:

Ourselves.

WE make the fandom we live in. We're dozens of sexualities, a hundred meetups and conventions, a thousand discord servers and Telegram channels, a million pictures and stories and alt-accounts and roleplays…

We decide what we are.

Aren't we the haven of the weird? The questioning of sexualities? The taboo, even incomprehensible kinks? We joke about vore, knots, gratuitous foot fetishists, but isn't that what makes this place home? Isn't every artist drawing obvious kink art following a beautiful legacy?

We are the monsterfuckers. The maw-obsessed, the paw-sluts, the musk-lovers (er, not that one). With every fetish we draw, every kink we commission, every smut-filled story and problematic character and taboo-laden roleplay…

We're the fandom, making ourselves.

Through being myself, through art and stories and chats and servers, I've found new communities. New friends. New ways to think, new art to enjoy. I've found love, deeper than I ever thought possible.

I've found myself.

And I've been told that through my artwork, stories, friend groups, I've helped people do the same. They've found the words to describe what's been inside them this whole time.

They've found they're not alone.

It's one of the sweetest and most delightful things I've heard.

Yes, it takes bravery to be yourself. You risk being misperceived, either accidentally or wilfully. You risk hurt. You risk confusion. But it's nothing you haven't done before. And in its wake, you will find yourself.

Do not let other people dictate who you are.

Do not let other people dictate who you are.

So when I say to keep furry weird, this is what I mean. Find that part of yourself that yearns to be free, and make this fandom the place for it.

Be yourself. Be so amazingly yourself that your very existence is an act of rebellion.

And Keep. Furry. Weird.

[merbear25]

A place to sneak away to

You'd think being away together on a mission would make everything easier, but as you've come to understand, it has it's fair share of drawbacks. Seeing him in battle was casting a spell of lust over you; the swift motions and the ruthlessness of his attacks were making your heart flutter. As inconvenient as it was, you needed him now.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, gn!reader, public sex, established relationship

Sanji, Zoro, Law

Sanji: public restroom. Sanji was in the same boat as you in terms of his delusions of how wonderful it would be to spend each moment right beside you on a mission. Being there to protect you, your knight in shinning armor, having you swoon over him: all of which were shattered by the rude awakening of reality. He still loved being able to protect you yet had hoped there would've been more chances for cheeky kisses and passionate embraces.

The last fight caught the both of you off guard. You and him were on the same wave length, however, and managed to fend off the attackers. Taking a moment to get his bearings, he shifted his attention to you. He'd be lying if he wasn't taken by surprise at least a little bit by the desire looming behind your eyes.

When you rushed towards him, he instinctively held out his arms to catch you. Your kiss met him with such force that it nearly made him stumble backwards. Gripping his collar, you let him in on your intentions. Hearing how much you needed him just as much as he needed you made this man yank you into the closest building so quickly that you could barely comprehend what was happening.

He managed to immediately scout out the restrooms and practically dragged you to them. After promptly locking the door, the fire that'd been building between the two of you was finally being given the chance to burn hot and bright. The embers from it were heating your bodies, leaving your cheeks flushed.

Despite him being a rather gentle lover, he was pawing at you in despiration as he squeezed your hips and ass tightly. He tugged your pants down and you returned his eagerness. A few strokes from you was enough to edge him; he'd already been waiting far too long and would not stand to wait a moment longer. Easing you up on the sink, he shoves himself as deep as he can within you, being sure to catch the moans seeping out of you with a loving kiss.

Zoro: alleyway. He's determined to complete the mission, which means his mind hasn't been wandering like yours. The both of you had been fending off enemies left and right, but you were making rookie mistakes―leaving yourself open to attack being the most potentially fatal. Your imagination was starting to hinder your abilites in combat, drawing his attention to you in a much less favorable way than you'd wanted.

Expressing his annoyance with you, the shouting was underlined with a tone of concern. He was, of course, very protective of you, and what would that mean for him if you got injured and he couldn't save you? No, he wasn't having any of that. He demanded to know what'd gotten into you.

Knowing that you'd caused him distress for your safety, you felt slightly embarrassed by your lude thoughts. You leaned in closer and told him in a hushed voice what'd been causing your slip-ups. He snapped back and scoffed, thinking how you could possibly let something so trivial impede your survival in battle.

Taking a moment to process your confession, he then scanned the area and settled on an alleyway. He led you there, forcing you to quicken your pace so that you wouldn't be dragged by him.

It was still broad daylight and plenty of people were still out on the streets, though he figured if you were reckless enough to endanger yourself, you'd be reckless for just about anything.

He pinned you firmly against the brick wall and wasted no time in unleashing his already stiffened length. Without needing instruction, you followed his lead. However, you were met with a low grunt and a swift slap of your hand when you attempted to touch him. Forcing you to turn around, he dragged you both closer to the ground, hiding your indecency behind the dumpster. "If you want to act like a dirty whore, then I'll treat you like one," he hissed in your ear and ruthlessly forced his way into you.

Law: cave. These urges of yours could not have come at a more troublesome time. Not only did you feel forced to suppress them because you knew Law would outright reject the idea of doing anything sexual in the jungle, but your mission involved gathering information from the nearby navy base. Such misfortune was leaving you in a mental fog and in need of an outlet for release. You started making careless mistakes, which then earned you a spiteful glare from him.

Cornering you after narrowly escaping being captured by the marines, he pressed you for answers as to why you were acting like such a fool. Feeling more on edge from the confrontation, you suddenly blurted out the honest reason.

Despite his scowl burrowing into the depths of your soul, a faint hue appeared on his face. He clentched his fists and let out an exasperated sigh. As you watched him turn away from you, you worried if you'd been acting too out of turn for his liking. However, just as you were starting to berate yourself, you heard his stern command for you to follow him.

He was still avoiding direct eye contact and wearing a frown, even though the redness on his cheeks had deepened. Pointing at a nearby cave, he motioned for you to follow. You were trailing behind and upon reaching the entrance, he hastily pulled you inside.

Although he was getting more and more noticeably worked up, he made it known that this was only to shut you up, "If this is the only thing that will make you focus on our mission, so be it."

Your body was finally getting the touch it'd been craving, causing you to be too noisy given the circumstances. He clasped his hand over your mouth and bit down on your neck in an attempt to silence you, "Shut up," he warned. Then after promptly folding you into a mating press, he harshly bucked himself inside you.

[tezzbot]

Hiiii I love the way you draw the trolls!! I know this is weirdly specific but how on Earth do you draw the hands ;w;

I've (mostly) got the hang of troll anatomy with the feet, torso- even the neck and head but my gosh I cannot get the hang of the hands and arms. Do you.. mayhaps, happen to have any tips for a beginner artist? Or possibly a reference handy?

This is kiind of difficult to explain bc in my head it's just. I Do It KGJFH which I know isn't exactly helpful so I am gonna try my best to explain my process

I am gonna be describing how I do it in My style so there's gonna be discrepencies between how I do it and how they look in the actual movies, but I hope it helps break em down enough?? Idk we'll see

Gonna need a diagram to help bc it's easier to show than tell so uhhh hey Branch

So, I know you're asking for hands but yknow arms are part of it lol, so the trolls in the movies do have arms that go from slimmer at the shoulders to wider at the wrists (there is a word for this. they taper?? I think?), I tend to exaggerate it a little just because it makes more sense in my head and for me personally is easier to draw, think of em as like little teddy bear arms lol

Some proportions in Trolls (and to how I draw anything generally lol) are incredibly flexible so it really doesn't matter how good you are at anatomy, the idea is to make it look good moreso than make Sense a lot of the time, as long as it looks vaguely right then you're on the right track :P

Now for what you actually asked for: The Hands!!

Troll paws are real nubby little things lol, but they do operate just the same as any other regular hand you would draw, just a lil more squart and missing a finger sgfdhf

Think in more Rounded Rectangles than anatomically correct hands. I think that instead of the three knuckle joints humans have, it is easier to picture them as having two (I think that's how it is in the movies anyway?? icr lol) The knuckle where the finger connects to the hand and then a single joint in the middle of the finger to allow it to yk actually bend LOL

Also drawing hands in general, The little chubby bits on the outside of your hand under your pinkies and thumbs are really useful guidelines for me personally, so it's good to know if that helps you too ^_^

As for actually connecting the hands With the arms - Again this is for my style, it's not really how it looks in the movies I don't think but, it's close enough that I get away with it FHGFJH

So, generally what I'll do is I'll connect the back of the arm to that first knuckle, usually making a little triangle where I guess the back of the hand is??? This can be squarshed and stretched as needed, I usually don't even think about it tbh but I did notice that it's there DSGFDHF

And here's just a couple other angles of hand arm connection. Otherwise, yeah, they do basically just work like regular ol people hands they're just a lil chunkier hehe

Also you can hide a bent elbow behind a hand nobody has to know.... as long as it lines up it doesn't matter... GHKFG

Thank you Branch for being our wonderful hand / arm model this evening

And I hope this was in any way at all useful!! If you'd like any more explanation or have any other questions feel free to lmk!!

[beardedvulturethingz]

Here’s my Pomni design!!

She’s a lot more simplified because it’s easier to draw her from memory this way (I have a lot of trouble remembering complex patterns)

The hearts on her hands aren’t paw pads or anything they’re just markings, same for her knees.

Again, dimmed down her colors like I did Jax.

She has claws, they are way more dull than Jax’s though.

[shares-a-vest]

"One piping hot cocoa," Wayne announces, setting an Indy 500 mug in front of Eddie, "Extra cocoa."

The boy is sitting at the kitchen island, drawing and taking up what little space is left on the countertop with his tools. He's been sitting there for a good hour now, working on some of his fantasy drawings.

Wayne wants to tell him the dragon he is working on is getting pretty good - quite realistic compared to the wibbly line work he'd started with when he first came to live with him two years back. But he doesn't say anything, just stirring his coffee a moment longer than necessary.

Eddie places his free hand around the mug handle and Wayne stills, hoping the boy will at least stop to take a sip and save himself from a spillage.

"Thanks, Dad," Eddie mumbles, moving the mug a little too close to the paper's edge.

They both pause.

Eddie mid-pencil stroke, Wayne mid-sip.

The boy sets the pencil down and grumbles at the purple streak now painted clean across the dragon, ruining its brilliant sunset-like shades of red, orange and yellow. Wayne tilts his head. He thinks his nephew might have intended to colour the eyes purple.

He also suspects his heart might have just skipped a beat – even if he isn't too sure how he feels about the cause of the awkward silence they have fallen right into.

And their silence is never awkward. Just calm. Peaceful.

Wayne had always been that way anyway, but he'd made an effort when Eddie showed up two years ago, with a duffle bag of clothes, an armful of his favourite books and a beat-up old acoustic.

He wanted to give Eddie time, too. Let him be himself. Guide him without being too militant. Though, considering Eddie's boisterous age (the boy is now twelve – where in the world does the time go?), sometimes that's easier said than done.

But a purple streak ruining a sunset-coloured dragon seems a heck of a lot different.

"I... didn't..." Eddie stutters, scrunching the corner of his drawing in a fist, "I didn't mean that."

The kid scratches his head, brows wobbling and lip quivering as he runs his fingers over the hair, likely remembering he has no curls to twist worried fingers around just now.

Wayne braces a hand on the countertop, willing himself not to curse to the heavens over his own stupidity. A couple of months back, he'd made the downright asinine decision to allow his brother Al to take Eddie on a fishing trip. He was perfectly within his rights as the kid's father to do so.

Well, at least at the time, he was.

But Al rolling back into town with a suspiciously shiny car and Eddie sporting a buzzcut with disappointment in his eyes was the final straw.

He picks at the chipped Cubs logo on his own mug, mulling over the best place to start with this one. But Eddie slips off his stool and books it down the hall, firmly making the decision for him.

He sighs and slides the drawing closer. Turns out Eddie was working on adding details to the dragon's scales with the purple pencil.

Wayne gives it a full few minutes before he heads down to Eddie's room.

He opens the door to find his nephew lying flat on his back with his hood over his face and the drawstring pulled so tight that it only leaves room for a small breathing hole.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he moves to sit by the edge of the bed. Eddie pointedly folds his arms.

"What's going on in that noggin, kid?" he asks, leaning towards the hooded form, "If it hasn't been swallowed up into a fabric void, that is..."

Eddie stills for a moment before puffing out a laboured breath.

"I didn't mean it," he says after a long silence, "Freudian Slip."

"Eddie, you know I haven’t the foggiest what that one means."

Even though Eddie reads a lot of books, Wayne still doesn't know how his nephew comes up with half the stuff he says. Eddie groans and paws away at the tight drawstring. He starts to really struggle with it so Wayne reaches over to help.

"There you are," he says, smiling once he gets the thing untangled and open.

"It doesn't matter," Eddie gripes, waving a dismissive hand before letting it fall back against his chest.

Wayne looks around. Eddie must have tidied his room yesterday judging by the empty laundry basket – even if he didn't place the thing back in the hallway.

He's a good kid.

Wayne pinches his nose, hoping that the prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes will go. He looks down and instead focuses on his striped socks, a pair Eddie gifted him last Christmas that he saves for Sunday afternoons.

"You can call me 'dad' if you want," he finally offers.

"I don't," Eddie bites back.

The first feeling out in the kitchen might have been a hearty thud of his rusty old heartstrings, but this one stings. Wayne nods a little more curtly than he'd hoped.

Eddie huffs and scrubs a hand over his face.

"I don't mean... gah!" he babbles incoherently for a moment like he does when he is frustrated beyond words and trying to mind his manners, "All I mean is, the guy I call 'dad' – or I'm supposed to – sucks. So – to me – the word doesn't mean all that much. And you aren't like him at all. Which is why I didn't mean it."

"I understand," Wayne nods.

He looks up to find his nephew teary-eyed. Eddie used to wail away as a toddler, running around with all his big feelings. But over the last few years, with everything that happened with his parents and now living here, Eddie has struggled to express himself beyond frustration and acid-tongued anger.

Though, as he wipes his eyes, that might be changing. Just a little.

"Any plans for this afternoon?" he wonders aloud, patting Eddie's knee and catching on a dang tear in his jeans.

Eddie shrugs, "Might go practice with the band."

"Ah yes," he smiles, "The talent show."

"We are going into battle," Eddie clarifies, enunciating every syllable with the faintest smile.

"And I expect an invitation to come see your performance, regardless of what that flyer over there calls the thing."

He points to the school's Talent Show flyer Eddie has had pinned to his bedroom wall since the start of the school year.

"Sure thing, Old Man," Eddie says.

"Hey now," Wayne chuckles, "I'm going to draw the line with some other choice terms of endearment, y'know?"

Eddie scrambles to the edge of the bed, a cheeky grin stretching across his face.

"Maybe we should discuss this further over some cold cocoa."

[qserasera]

oneshot, matoba/natori, vaguely pre-homura arc. for hexfest2k24; title meaning from here.

soshotai

It had been duty, but not responsibility, that had brought him here. Wordless, unstated; no heavier than the slide of a haori over his shoulders.

There had been rumors, undertones, smoky whispers of a disturbance here near these mountains. One creature, or two, odd shadows moving in the woods, with an eerie glow; sounds that ranged from ominous snarls in one night, or the light clarity of swaying windchimes the next.

And where a disturbance would be--true or not, on his clan holdings or not--there a Matoba should go.

The sedate growth of expected maples and oaks from the populated areas had shifted with his steps into thickening undergrowth--juniper shrubs, and low-hanging branches, and cedars that reached high enough to cling to the edges of clouds.

He stops his stride. The silence does not disquiet him--but there is something there. Matoba turns his head towards the right.

With a sound as soft as the sweep of a brush over paper, as if by magic--a shiki. Long dark hair, and a pale face--unreadable were it not for the dark gleam of the shiki's eyes.

A performer entering the hashigakari to the stage. And Matoba too, must take part.

"What is it?" Matoba says. He does not speak the shiki's name, though he recognizes it by sight. To name something is to make a claim to it, is it not?

The shiki--Urihime--opens her mouth and says: "There is need of you." --

Matoba Seiji does not surprise easily.

And yet, he cannot deny his own interest in the tableau before him. Natori Shuuichi, looking for all the world as if he was asleep, in the center of a drawn circle among the leaves.

Curled up on his chest is a yokai--animal-shaped, with paws and fur, and little else to discern by sight. It glows faintly in the same whispers of gold that the sun steals from Natori's hair on occasion.

Matoba studies the circle, traces his eyes over Natori's uncreased brow, the untroubled slack of his lips. He doesn't neglect to read the circle either--the impressions of characters meant for healing, for purification. It's drawn for slow thoroughness rather than swiftness--easier on the youkai. But it extracts a higher toll from the exorcist who had drawn the circle as a result. Yet, he knows Natori. Knows Shuuichi-san. He had not left himself undefended. Had brought at least one shiki along with him, had added wards in a palpable perimeter around this clearing to warn against intruders.

(It hadn't warned against Matoba's own presence. Curious--perhaps it was because that shiki had shown him in?)

"Why had you brought me?" Matoba murmurs.

He stops--turns his head towards the northeastern point of the clearing.

Footsteps--loud, clumsy.

"The thing is," one of the intruders says--bearded, his robes repatched a few too many times-- "wards like this put up by competitors means that there will be something worth taking at the end from the assignment. The youkai here were rumored to have once been servants of a temple--they will be powerful, if we can bring them under our control." "Oh?" says the second one--younger, tall in the way reeds were tall at a riverbank, grown too quickly after a bout of rain; his grip on the sealing pot in his hand a little too stiff-- "and if our competitors are not to willing to acquiesce?"

"We would have other means to try," the bearded man says, voice stronger now.

Matoba sits himself in the space in front of Natori's body. Draws his knife from his pocket, for the lightest cut over a finger of his left hand. Draws out blank paper for a talisman. His hand begins moving in, the strokes easy, by rote.

To deflect. To defend.

The two intruders step even closer into view. Scavengers, who would follow behind other exorcists who had already begun on their work, hoping to swoop in for a prize as a carrion crown might.

Matoba smiles.

"Other means, you had said? Would you dare try them now?" Matoba Seiji says. --

The two's failure is a foregone conclusion.

Matoba slips away to a nearby tree once he hears sounds of Natori waking behind him. Between its branches, he spies the youkai uncurl itself from the purifying circle. A fox, fully glowing gold now--a kingitsune.

It flows into movement, into motion, twines a circle in the space around Natori's ankles once. Then it darts off, presumably in search of its silvery partner further in the forest.

Natori brushes stray leaves off his sleeve. Picks up his hat, and makes his way over to a nearby trunk to lean against it, as a steady support.

"Urihime," Natori says. "What had happened?"

"I followed your instructions."

"Oh. You did well then." He looks up to where his shiki hovers. And though it is impossible, Matoba can almost feign the feeling that Natori is looking straight at him. "Thank you for watching over me."

Their gazes break as Natori pats down his pockets looking for his glasses, his other materials.

Natori stills a little as his eyes drop to the ground. His toe nudges at something atop the leaves.

He bends down to pick it up in his hand. A paper talisman shows up in hand--ah.

That is not one drawn by Natori's hand. Natori seems to frown for a moment as he looks over the characters on the talisman--in familiarity?--and then it passes. He slips it into his right-side jacket pocket. And speaks no more about it.

[actual-changeling]

listen i love snake crowley so much and it's perfect in so many ways but i cannot stop thinking about crowley as a black cat.

he still sprawls and inconveniences everyone trying to walk past him even when sitting on a chair. obviously he has the same eyes—his eyes—that glint like a sky full of stars in the dark. a tiny, pink, distantly heart-shaped spot on his otherwise dark nose. short, sleek fur that is soft and shimmers in the sun, and his claws are sharp as anything and a pearling white.

crowley keeps his tattoo, more or less, but instead of a snake it's the tail of a little cat that likes to lounge on top of his ear.

he loves sunbathing in the bookshop or finding small spaces on the shelves to squish himself into, and if you think he cannot scare away customers as a cat—he absolutely can. someone tries to buy a book and next thing they know a cat that really should not be that big is threatening to sink their claws into their hand and growling loud enough to feel it in your chest. (it's also easier to follow aziraphale around outside as a cat, it draws significantly less attention than a big snake slithering on the sidewalk)

sometimes he hangs around aziraphale's neck like a shawl and his angel has to make sure he balances him out at all times or he will get four paws clinging to him and digging their claws into his clothes so he doesn't fall. but he also gets crowley curling up in his lap while he reads, one hand holding the book, the other lazily stroking and petting him.

when he loses control a little while in human form he purrs (usually around aziraphale and boy is that embarrassing) or hisses, gets incredibly sharp nails, fangs, etc. he always walks super quietly and aziraphale threatens to put a bell on him when one time he unintentionally sneaks up on him and makes him spill his cocoa.

just. ngk. crowley as a cat relaxing on aziraphale's lap and pressing his head into his hand just to spontaneously switch back and suddenly there's a demon demanding attention and gently nuzzling into his neck.

[neko-naruto]

new setting (new ideals)

Summary: Wherein John Dory accidentally sneaks into the home universe of Sans after a very small margin of victory in the latest multiversal tourney; things escalate in unprecedented ways after the local scientist sizes him up to scale.

Warnings: swearing, drinking, god i am so sorry for this

Authors Note: @ohposhers @bulliestrolls someone needs to put you two in the fucking slammer for drawing sansdory, and then they need to put me in the slammer for writing sansdory. for the sake of enjoying this fic please picture JD as a lot more creature than in canon.

John Dory was small enough to fit inside of Sans' coat pocket.

Sans discovers this the hard way when the ex leader of brozone falls out of his pocket after his return to Snowdin.

"Ain't snow fucking way." Was what Sans managed as he stared at the unmoving body in the snow, far too small to be considered the average monster for the underground. The Troll would be eaten without a second thought, mistaken for the bugs Muffet doesn't provide protection for.

He plucks the tufted tail and holds up John Dory like he's a dead rat. Of course he snaps awake as soon as Sans is holding him at eye height, and with a screech he's flung aside as the skeleton lurches back.

Sans pauses to catch his breath, "Okay, so you're not dead. That's good."

"Where am I?!" Was John Dory's instant question as he shook the snow from his hair and brushed himself down.

"Pipe down pipsqueak, I won't let you get squished," Sans said as he took a seat on the snow. He held out a hand, "We should probably get you situated with Alphys, size you up a bit."

John reluctantly stepped onto a gloved hand and took a seat on the palm, it was cold and unpleasant. His tail thwipped loudly despite his size, "Anything else in mind to get me back home?" The words are agitated.

"Want me to leave you here?"

Silence.

"Thought so, I'll give you a hand in figuring it out, but you're playing by my rules bud."

"How were you the reigning champ for years on end?"

"The girlies liked me for my dry humor, MILF hunting attitude, and undetermined backstory- and my infinite fuckability of course."

"Must suck not having a dick."

Sans just gives a hum before giving John a gently toss, only a few inches but he still yelps and clings desperately to phalanges when he lands back in Sans' hand. It garners a chuckle from the skeleton, "Pal, I got extremities you couldn't even dream of, and no, that isn't an invitation to start listing 'em off."

John Dory shuts his mouth.

"Don't be shocked if Alphys tries to fill you up with needles and probes."

"With what-"

"She's a curious gal."

-/-/-/-

Thankfully the resizing process involves a lot less probing than Sans said it would, which John is eternally grateful for. He'd like to avoid having a cold piece of metal shoved up his ass if possible. The process just required a small blood sample and some weighing before he was resized with one little ray.

And then he was the exact same height as Sans, give or take a few inches.

"Proportionately, I can see why you won," Sans said, hands stuffed in his pockets and expression same as always. It's far too hard for John Dory to read, he can't tell if it's sarcastic or genuine.

"Thanks." He shrugs off the compliment because he doesn't know how to take it.

"Is it easier to see why I was the reigning champ?" Sans asked.

"You're the furthest thing from 'sexyman' out there," John Dory said before he could actually think about the words exiting his mouth.

Sans laughed, "Tell it to The Onceler, if you can convince him to take me off the bracket then I'll stop trying my best."

"You don't try at all."

"The girlies like me for that."

"What is it with you and the girlies?"

"What makes you think that the guys were voting for me?" Sans shot back, "Think you can walk and talk? I know a shortcut."

"Good point," John Dory said, "I can walk and talk."

"Cool." Sans holds out a hand.

"What?"

"Gotta hold my hand to take the shortcut."

John places his paw atop Sans hand and the grip the motion is received with is far too intense to be considered normal. But a shortcut is a shortcut, and he'll just have to take help to get around this universe until he can get home.

-/-/-/-

"Ketchup?"

"Yeah man, ketchup." Sans tossed a bottle to John Dory as he spoke, the Troll catching it with ease.

"You expect me to drink ketchup? I've had worse, but what about alcohol?" John asked.

"Bud," Sans began, "The bartender is a living flame, you really think he wants to be handling highly flammable stuff?"

"Fair point, but can you actually get drunk offa ketchup?" John asked, and he gave this slanted smirk as he spoke, partially leaning an elbow on the bar. He's gotten more comfortable after a week in Sans' hometown, he lives in the room under the sink in the skelebros household and made it his own until later notice.

Sans gives a hum, "Wanna find out?"

John grins before popping off the cap, "Try me."

-/-/-/-

"What do they put in this shit, Sans?" The words are spoken with a giggle and despite the ache in his head John Dory goes back for more.

"Tomatoes," Sans answered with, still slowly downing his first serving of ketchup.

"It's gotta be more than that, bonedaddy," John Dory purred, leaning a little bit more on the bar and resting his chin in his hands.

A distinct azure rises to Sans' face, "I think you've had too much ketchup."

"You meant it."

"What?"

"When we were in the lab, when you said I looked hot. You meant it, you like me," John deduced rather skillfully despite his inept state.

"And if I do?" Sans asked.

John pauses, "It'd be hot, Sans and John Dory double teaming the tourney."

"Alright, we should get home," Sans said, sliding off his bar stool and holding out a gloved hand.

John Dory took it and slid off his own stool, his tail wagged about lazily. His face is burning up and he looks oddly lovesick, a realization that Sans makes the choice to ignore until he can contemplate it late at night. Alone. In bed. By himself.

The Troll slinks an arm under Sans' shoulders, face resting atop the fluff of his hoodie and nuzzled into the collar of his turtleneck, he still clutches a hand tightly. He gives a contented hum, "Your jacket's soft."

"I know."

"You're soft."

"That's an odd thing to say considering I'm all bones."

"I'll show you bones."

"We really gotta get you home."

"And then?"

"And then you're going to sleep, no goodnight kiss."

-/-/-/-

Another week passes and Papyrus suddenly has to deal with the fact that Sans and John Dory are being overtly romantic.

"Your teeth are cold." John Dory would always say whenever he tried to kiss Sans.

"The girlies like it." Sans would always answer.

And sometimes John Dory would try again to get the usually snapped shut jaw open, or he'd say, "I guess I'm one of the girlies."

They'd laugh and after a small beat of silence continue on with their day.

Maybe it's selfish that Sans is keeping John Dory from a way back to his own universe, but he's pretty sure the Troll doesn't mind. He's stopped asking when he'll get to go back home at least, and Sans is benefiting from having someone around.

It makes the resets more tolerable if nothing else, and Sans just doesn't tell John about them. About the times he's watched everyone die and everyone live, he never speaks a word of it. And unless Frisk brings it up, he won't have to know of the amnesia or the violence.

And they can keep living their happily ever after.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: Muriel's birthday

~ here's the other birthday I missed (September 10th) while I was on hiatus. enjoy! ^.^ ~

You know he doesn't like surprises. He doesn't like surprises at all

You also know that if he knew that you were planning something for his birthday, he'd draw the line at anything more involved than a cupcake, and even that would be stretching it

The solution is to make the kinds of plans he'll be okay with, and keeping the happy extra details to yourself

A picnic. Surely he'll be okay with a picnic on his special day, at least so that the friends who care about him can come by and wish him without the stress of having them in the hut?

He pouts, but he agrees, assuming that if he lets you have this then you won't trying doing anything else

He assumes wrong, in the most delightful way

You meet with all those invited one at a time, informing them of the picnic, making a suggestion or two for something fun to bring, and asking that (if they were planning on getting him anything) they send their gifts for him to you ahead of time

Because as much as Muriel is learning to accept nice things for himself, you know it's easier for him to do when he's not facing the pressure of multiple pairs of eyes

The morning of his birthday, you wake up while it's still dark

Inanna's snout is in your face, her wet nose snuffling in your ear as she cautiously straddles your sleeping figure and tries to wake you up without disturbing Muriel

This is something you have asked her to do - you don't know how else you'd be able to wake up and feed the chickens before he does

Getting out of bed without waking him is another matter. He's a heavy sleeper, sure, but he's also got heavy arms. Being pinned under them is a wonderful feeling until you're trying to sit up

Inanna guards you carefully as you walk outside to feed the chickens, collecting fresh eggs for breakfast before tiptoeing back inside the hut

It's a chilly autumn morning. The cold is already seeping into your bones after leaving the warmth of the furs and Muriel's steady supply of body heat, so you rush to build up the fire

The sounds of you starting breakfast don't wake him up. Neither does the slow brightening of the dawn through the window, or the growing fire in the hearth

No, it's the smell of mushrooms frying in the skillet

You try to convince him to sleep in a little longer, but he's already slept longer than usual without the hungry chickens scratching outside and Inanna pawing at his face

(the poor wolf does, in fact, get a fondly annoyed look for her betrayal, waking you up instead of him)

He's sleepy and relaxed and happy, bedhead falling over his stubble, morning voice even deeper than it already is

Eating breakfast together is a precious moment. He doesn't realize you're doing this for his birthday until you wish him, and his smile is slow and bittersweet. He never thought he'd have a birthday like this, but he's glad he does

You pull out his gifts afterwards. Warm clothes from Nadia, a fresh pouch of myrrh from Asra in a seventeen, now eighteen year long tradition, a salve for chapped hands from Julian ...

He grumbles over each one as though his fond smile isn't visible, taking his time to admire them before pressing a shy kiss to your temple in thanks

It gives him just enough time to plan his thank yous before you need to pack your picnic lunch and meet them out in the fields

Much to his surprise, it's easier than expected. There's no overwhelming crowds besides the curious ants that stop by

Between Nadia's social graces, Asra's old familiarity, and Julian's capacity to hog all the awkwardness, conversation flows seamlessly and Muriel finds himself quickly caught up in it

After you've eaten comes the one proper surprise you've prepared - flying kites

The autumn winds are brisk and cool, perfect for carrying the whimsical paper creations into the clouds

Watching the Countess of Vesuvia go sprinting down a hill with an excited shout trying to get her kite into the air is also quite the refreshing scene

The afternoon passes by faster than Muriel is used to. Soon enough, both the sky and fields are turning a fiery golden from the sunset, and it's time to head home

You give him some time to himself before dinner - it's been an unusually social day, after all - but he's more than happy to sit close to you as you roast vegetables over a campfire outside the hut

Sitting back against a fallen log side-by-side, feeling the cold nip at your noses while you snuggle together for warmth, smelling the smoke from the campfire as you watch it float towards the stars

The kisses you share there are sweet, happy, full of promises for a good year to come, and eventually, very sleepy

He might be used to feeding the chickens at dawn, but you're not. He's carrying you to bed

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Sanctuary part 2

Chapter 12: Lau

A/N: Last chapter before the reunion!

Warnings: 18+, mentions of injury, canon deaths, Crosshair being snarky, canon violence.

Word Count: 7.7k+

Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13

Masterlist

Tagging: @subbing-for-clones

Smoke filled the ship, making you cough as you waved a hand to try and displace it. “What can I do?” Flattening against the ship wall when Crosshair hurried past you.

“I could use some help up here!” Omega shouted from the cockpit. “Our comms are down. I can’t contact Hunter.”

“That’s not the priority,” Crosshair shouted back. “The ship sustained heavy damage.” You knew nothing about ships, the console displayed all the problem areas and you were fairly sure there should not be that many glaring red bits. “Do you know how to fly?”

“Fly?” The ship rocked alarmingly, tossing you into the wall while Crosshair easily weathered the motion. Pain erupted up your side from the knock and you crushed your teeth together so you didn’t whimper. He made a frustrated noise, stepping towards you in a way that had you flinching.

Crosshair grabbed your hand, wrapping it tightly around a hand hold. “Brace yourself.” Was all he said before disappearing in the lift to rejoin Omega.

You sank to the floor with the lurca, wrapping an arm tightly around her neck. The alarms were ringing in your head, lights flickered, leaving the red emergency ones to throw the entire ship into an eerie glow.

The hull groaned and shuddered with the stress of falling through the atmosphere. You could feel the heat on the other side of the alloy and it made you wince. Circuits buzzed and sparked from the consoles, frying wires and screens until they died.

Your feet slipped on the floor as the ship tipped. The hound scrabbled to find purchase with her paws and she whined against you. “It’s ok,” you whispered. When you closed your eyes you could see the ground. It was rushing to meet you at an alarming rate through the clouds. The ship screamed, cutting through the air, juddering against the controls as Omega and Crosshair tried to glide it down.

Mountains appeared through the gloom like jagged teeth. Ready to rip and devour the ship you were all in. At the very last second your eyes snapped open. Gripping onto Batcher as tight as you could with one hand and throwing your other out in the vague hope of saving yourself, before you were thrown into the blackness.

Stitch.

You were so cold. Smoke coated your lungs and pain fired through your body.

Stitch, you have to wake up!

A groan vibrated in your chest ending in a ragged cough that forced you awake. It was so bright. Light bled into your eyes but a shadow appeared overhead and you managed to focus on the face of Omega.

“Crosshair!” She moved aside and the clone you’d escaped with leaned over you.

“About time,” his cold tone sneered. “Get up. Imperials will be tracking this ship.” Omega helped you sit up with Batcher beside you. Everyone was coated in dust and smoke residue. The ship smouldered with great black clouds behind you, huge ploughs of earth had been kicked up almost burying the ship.

“Can you walk?” Omega asked.

“Yeah. Yeah I can.” You limped the first few steps, looking up to see Crosshair had already strode off. You forced yourself to settle into the pain, to work with it and eventually you began to breathe a bit easier.

“Crosshair said he scanned a spaceport a few klicks east, right before we crashed.”

“Hopefully we can get further from the reach of the Empire.” Away from the Emperor. Away from Hemlock, Tantiss. You wanted to slip into the crowd, become a nameless face and never see a white suit of armour again.

“What are you doing?” Your fingers were quivering as you ripped off the armour plates and scattered them on the floor.

“Too recognisable,” you told Omega. “Have to keep to the shadows until I can find something else to wear.” The Imperial sign made you feel sick, but walking around naked would probably draw more attention than a black bodysuit. Plus, it was the only thing keeping you warm right now.

You glanced at Omega, noticing the furrowed brow and the way she toyed with her bottom lip. She felt like a chaotic bundle of emotions, happiness, uncertainty, wariness. It all pulsed off her in waves. “You have questions?”

She looked up you, a sense of joy and safety warmed her presence but it died with the slight smile that had been on her face. “You really don’t remember me?”

“I am sorry, Omega.” She looked and felt familiar, you were drawn to her for some reason but why constantly eluded your awareness.

“What about, Tech?” There was a quickness to your breath, a slight jump in your heart but again, it had no foundation. All you could do was shake your head. “I’m not sure how he is going to cope with that,” she admitted candidly.

“Why?”

“Oh, well…” she spread her hands wide, clearly trying to think of something to say. “You two were close. Really close.” She didn’t elaborate, leaving you to think over what she’d said but it drew nothing substantial back to you.

“I know Hemlock took from me,” you told her. “I don’t know how, or how much, but I know I must have had a life before I woke up in Tantiss.” She tried to smile through her obvious sadness.

“You’re safe with us. I promise. You had a life with me, Wrecker, Hunter and Tech. Oh and Echo before he left to join Rex in freeing the clones. You helped them too.”

“Omega,” Crosshair had paused to watch you both for a moment. “She will not remember.”

“I was helping her,” Omega defended herself, giving him a frown.

“It does no good. Trust me.” He gave you a narrow look before continuing ahead.

“He will come around,” she whispered, throwing a quick smile at you.

It was hard to give one back, yet you managed and she skipped ahead with the hound to catch up with the clone. The wound under your arm was blazing with every breath you took. Neither of them had noticed the way you turned your body so they wouldn’t notice it, or how you kept your arm glued to your side.

It was better this way.

The town below sprawled across the plains, between some of those jagged looking rocks that stabbed out of the ground. The streets were grim, wet and covered with sludge from the constantly disturbed soggy ground. Beings of many different species wandered around, barely taking notice of a misfit group with a large hound following them.

You stuck to the walls, shadowing Crosshair and Omega, hoping not to draw the attention of anyone if you could help it. Crosshair threw out an arm, pulling you and Omega behind him and backed you both round a corner. She peered round him and drew in a sharp breath.

“The Empire couldn’t have followed us here that quickly.”

“They didn’t,” Crosshair answered. “That’s a standard patrol presence.” You looked back down the street, fearful another patrol would happen upon your position. Nerves made your stomach flip and your pulse throb. If you were caught, captured by anyone in the Imperial army, you would be sent back to Hemlock. A shudder ran down your spine, a sense of uneasiness creeping across your shoulders.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” you breathed.

“They didn’t see us,” Omega reassured you. “So we need to find a way to send a message to Hunter.”

Crosshair pursed his lips in frustration. “We can’t. They monitor long-range coms, it’ll give us away.” He sighed. “We’ll have to figure out something else.” He went to carry on when Omega tugged on his hand.

“Wait! We can’t walk around like this. We’ll draw too much attention.” Crosshair folded his arms as she spoke, a motion that she copied, whether she knew she was doing it or not.

“You’re the one who wanted to bring the hound.”

“I was talking about our outfits,” she countered. “Stitch can’t keep going around in that, and your face might be recognised.”

“And yours,” Crosshair retorted snarkily but she just grinned.

“Exactly my point. Come on.” She crept away from where you were all hiding. With a sigh and slight shrug at Crosshair you followed her, happy to hear him following after a few seconds. “Stay here,” Omega told you both in an alleyway before she disappeared.

Crosshair scoffed lightly and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed again, a moody expression on his face. He was watching you, a feeling you couldn’t readily ignore because it made you intensely nervous.

“Hello,” you said lamely, hating how his narrowed glare felt like a lance in your chest. “Have we met before?” You asked quickly.

“Once,” he drawled. “Not that you’d remember.”

“Oh. Were we close to?”

“Not. At. All.” The bite in his words made you want to shy away from him and the uneasy feeling gathered in your body.

“Here. Put these on.” Omega reappeared at just the right moment, holding a handful of clothes for you all and a bag. She produced a couple of hats and shoved some items at Crosshair and some at you.

“Where did you get these?” Crosshair asked as he inspected the clothes with a large dose of disdain.

“I stole them. Hurry!” You slipped on the jacket and trousers over your body suit, hiding the wince as the wound stretched and rubbed. It wasn’t bleeding, thankfully, but you could feel the subtle searing itch of infection. Not something you could stop now.

She stuffed all the spare clothes in a gap between two dirty crates, adjusted her hat and beamed at Crosshair before leading you all out of the alleyway. “See? Isn’t this better?” She asked cheerfully.

“No.”

You had to fight a smile at the way Omega sighed and rolled her eyes at the clone’s obvious disgust in his new outfit. You thought it was clever, how she had found a hat to cover half of his face, you’ll never know. This girl was resourceful.

Tension spiked when a new patrol walked past but they didn’t even glance in your direction. Still, the creeping darkness at the back of your mind was looming. This was not going to be easy.

“New plan,” Crosshair cast his eyes skyward to track a shuttle as it came in to land. “Let’s get to the spaceport. We can sneak onto one of those shuttles.”

Your hands were shaking. Maybe it was anxiety, exhaustion, residual shock from the crash, you had no idea but you wished it would stop.

“This doesn’t feel right,” you whispered to yourself. “None of this feels right.”

“What are you saying?” Crosshair demanded over Omega’s head.

“It’s not going to work…something…it’s just…”

Now the clone looked down at Omega and he didn’t even need to remove his face covering for you to hear the sneer in his voice. “Keep her quiet, or we leave her behind. Even the hound makes less noise.”

A little hand slipped into yours and squeezed. “It’s ok Stitch. We’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t want to be stuck,” you whispered furiously. “Trapped. I can’t be trapped, not again.” Omega’s reassurance was shaky but there as she hugged your arm.

“We won’t let that happen.”

“Speak for yourself,” Crosshair muttered. You knew, if it came down to the wire, Crosshair would leave you both. It frightened you. He was the ex-soldier, the unshakable one. If he left, you would probably fall apart.

The spaceport loomed with high walls and crowds with people making their way in and out of the landing pads. Troopers roamed the area, too many to consider slipping past, which Omega pointed out.

“It too well guarded. We’ll never slip past all those troopers undetected.”

Crosshair surveyed the area with a calculating eye. “I can take out at least half before they know what’s happening.”

You could hear the blaster bolts, the stench of scorched flesh, the screams of civilians… ”They would ground the shuttles,” you forced from between clenched teeth, trying to erase the vision.

“We would just steal one,” Crosshair replied coolly.

“Or we could try a way that doesn’t involve blaster fire,” Omega suggested, drawing his attention.

“Like what?”

She stared at the ticket counter for a moment, watching some people before she made her move. “Watch and learn.”

Crosshair visibly deflated with a sigh that hollowed him out. “I can hardly wait,” his tone dripped with sarcasm.

Omega was already halfway to the desk when you forced your feet to move. “This isn’t the way.” Crosshair shot you a glare and you shrank back slightly, putting the hound and Omega between you both.

“Hello,” Omega smiled brightly. “We’d like three tickets on the next shuttle, please.”

“Chain codes?” What even was a chain code? You knew this wasn’t going to work before they had even approached the ticket agent. Radio chatter from some troopers by the entrance made you jump, drawing another angry look from Crosshair.

“About that. We lost our chain codes,” Omega continued.

“No chain codes. No passage,” the agent said simply.

“Riiight. But you see, a problem for us could be an opportunity for you if, say, you knew of an alternate way of booking passage without a chain code?” Omega rubbed her fingers together. The agent leaned over the counter, lowering her voice.

“Are you insinuating that I should take a bribe?”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

“I do. And that could be arranged…for 15,000 credits.”

“For three tickets??” Omega almost screeched.

“Per ticket,” the agent said. “And it’s nonnegotiable. You’re lucky I’m not charging extra for the creature.”

Crosshair stayed beside Omega, his eyes watchful as they raked over the spaceport. He had resigned himself to this idea not working, but he let her find that out for herself.

“Where do you expect us to get 45,000 credits?”

“Sounds like, a you problem,” the ticket agent said. “Don’t come back without the credits.” Heavy disappointment tainted the air around Omega and she turned away, absently reaching for your hand. Usually when someone touched you it was to take blood, or to bind you. Never had someone just wanted reassurance from something as simple as hand holding.

“Well, that went well,” Crosshair said, the faintest hint of amusement lined his words.

“Stow it,” Omega snapped at him, her hand flexing in yours briefly.

The three of you wandered the streets with Batcher padding faithfully behind. Omega seethed, furiously trying to figure out a way off this rock as Crosshair kept watch and also tried to think of a new plan.

You couldn’t think. The world was a distraction. Sounds came to you from streets away, snatches of conversation, or were they thoughts, filled your mind. People were selling items on stalls, strange smells, the sizzle of food turned your stomach. You weren’t used to this. The colours, the loudness, the constant cacophony that assaulted all your senses until you were pulled out of it by Crosshair.

“What are you doing?!” Omega whisper shouted when the clone dragged you into an alley and pinned you against the wall. “Crosshair!”

“Shut up,” he snarled in your face. “You are going to give us away. Unless…” his brown gold eyes became molten as they narrowed dangerously. “Do you know something we don’t?” He asked you, his arm across your throat.

“Let her go!”

“No! She knows something,” he insisted.

“I don’t!” You gasped, curling your fingers around his arm. You didn’t want to hurt him but when the panic built like this you had less control over the power that vibrated under your skin. “Please, let me go.”

“I don’t trust you.” His words held vitriol, enough to stop the rising pressure and bring yourself under control.

“I don’t trust you either.” His hold eased but he didn’t move away, his eyes tracking over your face briefly.

“You shouldn’t,” he admitted quietly to you, just as Omega managed to shove him hard enough so he had to take a step back.

“Stitch is force sensitive!” The whispered admission was like ice water on the moment. Crosshair’s expression twisted under the face covering and you wished the wall would open up and swallow you. “She’s a healer. She saved Tech’s life. Hunter’s life. Our brothers.” Crosshair backed up another step, his eyes flicking between you and Omega.

“I see.” His emotions changed like the wind, from turbulent and angry, morphing into a wave of sadness that he ignored. It rocked you slightly, how quickly he could close himself down.

“She can’t help it, she has heightened senses sometimes. I don’t really know how it works,” Omega trailed off and rubbed her face. “We need to work together or none of us are getting off this planet.”

“I suggested storming the spaceport. Would be easier than getting 45,000 credits,” Crosshair spat, crossing his arms.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Don’t be naive,” Crosshair seethed at her. “Every second we’re here, we’re at risk.”

“Then quit wasting time complaining or throwing accusations!” Omega retorted abruptly.

“Troopers,” you hissed, pushing away from the wall to stand with them as though you were all taking part in a mutual conversation. Their radio chatter echoed down the alley as did the clink of credits which caught Omega’s attention. She went to the end and looked both ways.

“I think I know how we can make some fast credits,” she said with a hint of mischief, the disagreement already history.

“Of course you do. What is it this time? Robbing civilians again?” His anger still simmered, although he was willing to listen to any plan she came up with.

Omega made a face at him and pointed to a doorway across the street. It opened again, letting out two more troopers and a rush of loud music.

“Oh. I see I’m not far off in my assumption,” Crosshair sighed. Omega tugged on your hand, leading you across the street and into the cantina. She claimed an empty booth, Crosshair slipped in the other side so you were in the middle. Batcher sat at the front like a guard dog.

“This is your plan. You want to hustle someone?” Omega leaned around you when Crosshair spoke, determination setting her expression.

“I’ve done it before and I prefer to think of it as a temporary requisition of funds.”

“That’s Tech talking,” Crosshair settled back in his seat as he mulled it over. “What are you going to bet with? We don’t have anything.”

Now Omega grinned, her legs swinging under the table. “They don’t know that.”

You watched the Trandoshan at the gambling table throw out a guttural laugh as he raked some credits towards him with a clawed hand. Absently you rubbed your shoulder, staring at the wicked claws across the room.

Heat danced over your skin, like you were standing next to a fire except, there were none in here. A scream echoed and you flinched, lurching into Crosshair who tutted but he made no move to push you away.

“What now?” He muttered with contempt. “Got any bad feelings?”

“This entire town is a bad feeling,” you told him. Strangely, leaning on his shoulder calmed you a little and it was an effort not to lean into him more.

“Figures,” he commented dryly. “What if you lose, Omega?”

She sighed and shrugged. “Well, I guess we’ll be in more trouble.” Before he could protest or ask more questions, she slid out of the booth.

“Fantastic.”

“You worry for her.” The words slipped out and instantly you regretted them.

“Not in the way you think,” each word was drawn out enough to make you think, he really believed what he was saying. But you knew Omega had surprised him. The fact she had got him off Tantiss made him conflicted. It meant he was one step closer to seeing his brothers again and he had no idea if they wanted to see him. Omega started her game with the Trandoshan and you both settled in to watch.

It had been at least a couple of hours and the game had drawn in quite a crowd. Your nerves were shot, you could feel the sweat dripping down the groove of your spine. The ache of your wound wasn’t something you could ignore anymore, it felt like it was on fire.

Crosshair was more relaxed, he’d even thrown an arm across the seat behind your head. You were so lost in the sensations within your body, you didn’t notice Crosshair had put a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re shaking,” he observed, shifting himself a little and wedge in beside you.

“Trandoshans make me nervous,” you whispered.

“Why?”

“I don’t…I don’t know.”

“Hmmm.”

You swallowed, trying to rid yourself of the claggy dryness that filled your mouth and throat. You couldn’t even remember the last time you ate or drank anything. You had opened up the holocrons for Hemlock and slept in your room until Scalder dragged you for observations in the lab.

“Hemlock did things to me. He stole from me.” Crosshair tensed against you, his eyes never leaving Omega. You had no idea why you were confessing this now, maybe you were becoming delirious. “I get visions, it’s my curse I guess. But he…he gave me more.”

“More?” Crosshair murmured. The little sense of understanding that pulsed from the clone kept you talking.

“They would give me an injection every week and it would burn, it hurt so much.” Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, so you blinked to try and rid yourself of them. “I can’t go back. Will you kill me?”

“What?”

“If we get caught, I want you to shoot me.” The request sat heavily between you. It was a lot to ask.

“No.” Twisting in your seat you faced him, not realising how close he had gotten to you.

“I know Omega wouldn’t understand and her brothers…your brothers…I don’t know how it would affect you returning to them.”

“I don’t think I will be returning,” he said abruptly, refusing to look at you.

“You are a better person than you think.”

His gaze shifted. His caramel eyes blazed with something fiery and he tipped so close you leaned back slightly. “Do not pretend to know me. Because you don’t. The only time we interacted, you were my prisoner. Quivering on your knees, at the mercy of my rifle,” he sneered. An involuntary shiver grabbed your body as he slipped a hand around the back of your neck and applied pressure. You could feel each individual fingertip digging into your skin, his way of showing dominance, what he was capable of. But the threat was empty. Even now his internal conflict shadowed his eyes, it suffocated his presence and marred his expression.

“Then my request, is you completing unfinished business.” Holding his gaze made you want to squirm, your insides roiling more than they already were but you held. Letting your words sink in. Eventually he released your neck and sat back in his seat again.

“I guess it is.”

Invisible fingertips ghosted up your spine. Apprehension filled your chest making you clutch Crosshair’s knee as a reflex. He jolted, hitting the underside of the table which drew Omega’s attention for a split second. “What do you think, you are doing?” He hissed through clenched teeth, forcefully prising your grip off his leg.

“He’s coming!”

Crosshair paused. “Who?”

“I can feel…” your eyes widened. “The door!”

The noise in the cantina hushed when the door slid open and in walked an Imperial officer, flanked by two stormtroopers.

“He’s my feeling,” you breathed, realisation dawning on you. “The bad feeling. He’s it.” Crosshair leaned on his elbows and cleared his throat loud enough for Omega to hear, subtly tilting his head towards the Imperials as they headed towards the bar.

“We need to get her out of here,” he muttered.

“She’s about to finish her hand,” you told Crosshair. “She won’t escape his notice in time.”

“I’m not going to sit here and let him…” but Crosshair’s words died when the Imperial strode straight up to the gambling table where Omega was sitting. The pair of you stilled, straining to hear what was being said.

“Leaving so soon?” The Imperial asked Omega before turning to the Trandoshan. “You’re in my seat.” The lizard snarled but got up anyway. Omega made a motion to you and Crosshair as the Imperial sat down, giving you both no choice but to watch how this played out. “So, you think you’re good at this game?” The Imperial questioned but Omega only gave him a noncommittal shrug. “Want to try against a, uh, real opponent? I insist.”

Crosshair let out a sigh, his entire body on a hair trigger ready to react on Omega’s behalf if she needed it. Your hands began to shake more noticeably than before, so you dragged them into your lap where no one could see. The only way to calm them was to dig at the side of your nail, the brief bites of pain offered a distraction and it settled the feeling of your power sliding under your skin.

The Imperial dealt out the cards and dived into his first hand with Omega. People milled around, creating a level of curious chatter while they watched and commented on the girl and her unusual skill at the game. Batcher sat on the other side of the table, her deep rolling growls vibrated through the floor, her agitation and dislike at the Imperial was just an extension of yours.

“Your mutt don’t seem to like me,” the Imperial said to Omega, his accent sounded wrong for the uniform indicating he was from the Outer Rim.

“She’s harmless,” Omega told him, not taking her eyes off the cards in her hand.

“She’s a distraction. Get rid of her,” he ordered. You saw the frown she gave the Captain but she motioned for Crosshair to put Batcher outside anyway. Your fingers tensed, nails digging into your skin and leaving moon shaped grooves from the pressure. Your anxiety roared to life as both Crosshair and Batcher left you for a moment, pounding the inside of your skull with the beginnings of a headache.

“Never seen you or your parents before,” the Imperial was clearly digging around for details on your group. You tried to swallow the panic that was working its way up your throat, not wanting to take your eyes off Omega but desperate to seek out Crosshair near the door.

“We’re just passing through.” It wasn’t a lie from Omega. You were, hopefully, just passing through.

The Imperial Captain put down a card you couldn’t see and some of the crowd made cheering noises. “Eh, I’ll admit, you’re not bad.” The praise seemed almost genuine, but you felt he had an ulterior motive even if curiosity in Omega’s skill was driving him right now. “But you seem to have misunderstood your enemy.”

Omega cocked her head to the side, the barest of smiles on her face. “Did I?” She splayed out her hand over the cards already on the table and the bar erupted into cheers and some scattered applause. “I’ll take those 30,000 credits.” You tensed when a trooper approached the table and Crosshair materialised beside you like a shadow.

“I concede,” the Captain said. “You beat me fair and square.” He grabbed his hat, whispering something to Omega before he got up and left. You slipped out of the booth, barely containing the hiss of pain from the searing wound in your side. Crosshair spared a glance in your direction but his attention was on Omega and the credits she slipped into her bag.

The Captain was stopped by one of his troopers, his gaze slid to you while they talked and he noticed you staring. He gave you sly grin, touching the rim of his hat before the look was replaced with a scowl. Clenching your teeth against the pain, you forced your way to Crosshair’s side.

“We need to leave,” you mumbled, absently wrapping your hands around his arm in a silent ask for support.

“I know,” he grunted, motioning for Omega to speed it up.

“I’m coming,” she huffed, putting on her hat and walking away from the table.

“Now, hang on a minute.” The three of you froze at the sound of his cocky chuckle. Crosshair almost dragged you over, he turned so sharply to face the Imperial while Omega plastered on an innocent look. “We’re not done here.“

Your body was exhausted, trembling against Crosshair when a wave of nausea hit you. Nothing could stop your head flopping forward to lean on his arm, biting back a soft groan.

“My mother is sick,” Omega blurted out. “We must go.”

“Oh no.” The Captain looked so pleased with himself, rising on the balls of his feet for a brief moment. “You haven’t paid your fine.”

“What fine?”

“Gambling’s illegal in these parts.” You clutched Crosshair tighter when he took a step forward, a sense of indignation and anger spiked from his presence.

“What?”

“The law’s the law,” the Captain replied smugly. “Now, all you gotta do is pay the fine. And I’ll be on my way.”

“How much?” Questioned Omega.

“Fifteen thousand credits. Unless, you prefer to be arrested?” No. No! Crosshair was almost quivering with rage under your touch, but he still managed to put his hand over yours in the crook of his elbow. You had no idea if he meant to try and be comforting or not, it helped anyway.

If looks could kill, the Imperial would have dropped dead from Omega’s glare. She opened the bag and counted the amount he demanded. Putting the credits in the case that was offered to her.

“Excellent. Consider your fine paid in full. Try and stay out of trouble.” The Captain tipped his hat in mock respect, smirking at you all before he arrogantly turned his back and left.

“Let’s get out of here,” Omega suggested.

“How many credits do we have left?”

“Fifty five thousand,” she told him after shuffling through them. “Enough for three tickets on the shuttle and a little extra.”

“Hmm.” Now his attention turned to you. “Can you walk?” He asked with a softness you never assumed he could be capable of.

“Just about.” Truthfully, you wondered if your legs would give out once he took away the support and hoped he’d tolerate you leaning on him, a bit longer.

You all stepped outside in the colder air. It crashed against your skin, almost waking you up a little from daze your mind was falling into.

“Crosshair, where’s Batcher?” The flare of alarm from Omega made your hands twitch.

“I left her right here,” he defended himself, hands curling into fists. “I assumed she was so attached to you, she wouldn’t wander off.” Omega opened her mouth to argue back when a kid approached.

“Oy. You looking for that hound?”

“Oya’karir,” you whispered to yourself, triggered by the familiar sound. The hunt had begun, in more ways than one.

“You know where they went?” Omega asked urgently.

“Sure do,” the kid replied slyly. “But the answer’s gonna cost you.” You felt the deep noise of irritation that Crosshair let out from his chest. His internal conflict was raging right now.

“Ten thousand credits,” the boy was saying to Omega when Crosshair loomed over him.

“I’m getting tired of this.”

“Okay!” The kid cried out. “Okay. Five. That’s my final offer.” Omega handed the credits over more readily for Batcher than she did for the fine. Something that Crosshair clocked. “That Imperial officer and his troopers snatched the creature and headed for the cargo docks. Down that way. Nice doing business with you.” He ran off before Crosshair could lunge for his scrawny neck.

“Omega.” She had already started heading to the docks. You could already sense she wasn’t leaving without the hound.

“You heard him. Batcher’s this way.”

“And the spaceport is that way,” Crosshair pointed out. His arm dropped and so did your grip. “Forget the hound. We have to get off this planet.”

“We never would’ve escaped without Batcher. I’m not leaving her.”

“Omega…”

“No.” She cut across whatever you were going to say, her eyes full of disappointment when she looked at you. “There was a time you wouldn’t have hesitated.” The words cut deeper than you thought possible. Maybe it was your battered and exhausted mind that reeled from the blow, or Crosshair’s distress and internal conflict that made you flinch. It was becoming too much.

On one hand, you wanted to escape so badly you’d happily leave the hound behind. On the other…was a swirling ghost of loyalty for Omega. She had been the one to add you to their escape plan. She accepted you, no questions. She knew you. Niner said you had family out here…from the way Omega spoke to you and looked out for you, she was part of that family. You couldn’t explain it, but something made you take a step away from Crosshair.

“You’re making a mistake,” he snapped in desperation.

“I’m not abandoning her!” Omega cried, tossing the bag to Crosshair. “Take the credits. If you wanna go, then go. I’ll find my own way.”

“Omega!” She started to run off and you automatically followed her.

“What are you doing?” Crosshair hissed, snatching at your arm. “If he catches you again…”

“I know! I know.” You shrugged him off, unable to hide the wince of discomfort that crossed your face. “But I can’t leave her.”

“Foolish.”

“Maybe,” you retorted sharply. “But I can’t leave her,” you repeated as though it explained everything. You felt his anger at Omega’s recklessness, the disappointment in your decision and the way he was completely torn down the middle. It twisted into a form of anguish you felt deeply, running alongside your sense of fear as you once again, went to follow Omega.

By the time you caught up with her, she was already climbing the fence. “Omega!”

“You came!” She whispered, smiling brightly. “We can get in this way.”

“This is such a bad idea,” you muttered to yourself, ignoring the pull in your side or the shake in your exhausted arms when you began to climb up the crates to get over the fence.

“Wait.” The pair of you turned to see Crosshair placing the bag of credits down. “We’ll do this your way,” he said to Omega, hoisting himself up the first crate. “But my skills are being wasted.”

She smiled at him, her joy was briefly intoxicating. “Noted.”

He sighed, lacing his hands together. “You first, help Omega down the other side.” You nodded in agreement, wishing there was an easier way round. Leaning on the fence, you put a foot in Crosshair’s hands and he pushed you up. Your side screamed with agony, making your fingers spasm and slip when you reached the top of the fence. Luckily your other hand held on, allowing you to pull yourself up but there was no grace to it.

The way down was worse. Your foot slipped, leaving you no choice but to drop the last few feet to the ground. You bent your knees, absorbing the shock of the fall and then stumbling when pain radiated through your body.

“Stitch?”

“I’m ok. Come on,” you encouraged Omega, lifting one arm while the other hugged your side as you guided Omega down. Crosshair passed her the credit bag before he found his own way over.

“Stay low,” he breathed to you. “First chance you get pick up a weapon.” His gaze slid to the kid, noticing the way she was staring at him and he rolled his eyes. “Set to stun.” You wondered how much it pained him to say those words.

You weaved your way through the crates that filled the docks. Noises belonging to all different animals reached your hiding place while the three of you waited for a patrol to pass. Squawks, screeches, hoots and growls grew louder the closer you all moved to the centre.

“I can’t see her,” Omega whispered, ducking quickly so she wasn’t spotted by any of the many troopers in the area.

Leaning your back against the crate you closed your eyes. “Give me a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute,” Crosshair muttered, his tone tight with warning. You ignored him, imagining running your fingers over Batcher’s short coat, hearing her breathing, sensing her bright presence. You had never purposely searched for something before using whatever this power was…but right now, it was working.

You were drawn over to the right. “Check that way,” you gestured with your eyes still closed and Omega peeked over the crate again, looking in the new direction.

“I see her!” The massive crate beside you rocked and growled aggressively. Crosshair reacted, lifting his blaster ready to shoot but nothing else happened. “Shouldn’t we free the other animals too?”

“Don’t push it,” Crosshair told Omega firmly. He was here for Batcher and Batcher only. You moved around more crates, trying to ignore the way your stomach wanted to drop out of your body. The pain in your side was a constant throb, limbs shaking and your mind was trying to slip in random daydreams.

“I thought you’d come searching for your mutt,” a condescending voice rang out. Crosshair lifted his blaster, the thread of panic from Omega made your eyes focus on the man stepping out of the shadows and into the flood lights. “Yeah, unfortunately for you. Lau has a very strict pet policy.” Troopers filled the area and two cargo dock guards with stun sticks moved in.

The Captain flicked a credit bar, his thick air of smugness was laced with something that made the hair all over your body stand on end.

“No license means a hefty fine,” he crowed, grinning at Omega.

“How much, this time?”

“How ‘bout you give me all my money back?” His eyes fixed on you. “Though, credits won’t do you any good when Hemlock shows up.”

When Hemlock shows up.

When Hemlock shows.

Hemlock…

His name was like a trigger in your mind. Sharpness smothered the panic like a blanket. A moment of clarity where you could pinpoint every single trooper, every guard, all the animals and separate them out in your thoughts. You saw them all, even if they weren’t in your line of sight. A haze of red blurred out the edges of your vision. Defiance pushed outwards, forcing its way down to your very fingertips.

You were never going back. Never. The next time you saw Hemlock, it was to feel his life bleed out over your bare hands.

The Imperial was still talking, holding a blaster to Omega and demanding the bag of credits with the order to surrender. You couldn’t hear words, only feel intentions. Crosshair’s razor sharp focus mixed with your own and you used it.

He fired the first shot and it was like a domino effect. Bolts exploded all around but you didn’t run. The others scattered while you dropped to your knees.

Power released from your hand like electricity. It rushed out, pulsing in waves into the ground, feeding into cracks no one else could see until it reached the life force of a trooper. Three went rigid, their bodies spasming from the energy that was forced into them. And it felt bittersweet.

A shot was aimed at your head, but you felt it coming. Moving your head to the side and dropping a little, it passed harmlessly over your shoulder. A little sigh fluttered in your throat when the troopers dropped dead onto the floor. Tears brimmed at the dimness they left behind, but you had no time to mourn.

“Stitch!” You looked up, seeing Omega and Crosshair had made it to the control panel. You stood, immediately taking a step back to avoid the stun stick that was launched at you. The guard missed, leaving him no choice but to follow through on the motion and the end of the stick collided with the floor. Before he could right himself you grabbed the staff, kicking out his leg. As he dropped you whirled round, spinning the stun stick so the end was behind you to collide with a trooper that was rushing round the corner.

Crates erupted open. Animals from all worlds screamed into action and the whole cargo dock became an area of chaos. Through the disorder, you could feel Crosshair and you steadily made your way towards him.

The large ship in the docks roared to life but a familiar figure lurched upright in front of you. “They’re stealing the cargo ship!” He bellowed into the com, lifting his blaster to take aim at Crosshair’s back. Without thinking, you rushed him. Using the stun stick to knock his arm so the shot went wide, you hit him again and he went flying back to the ground.

Even with the blue light of the stick in his face, the Captain still managed to grin at you. “They’re going to leave you behind, and I will be rewarded handsomely for sending you back.”

“You believe that?” Your fingers twitched, feeling the cool alloy of the bolt holding those doors closed a few meters away.

“You’re Hemlock’s most prized possession. He’d do anything to retrieve you.”

“You are hoping for a promotion.”

“Oh, pet. I’m so close I can taste it.” The clang of the bolt falling to the ground drew his attention as the crate began to open up.

“Good luck with that.” Thick tentacles slithered from inside, followed by a rippling growl. The Captain tried to run, but the Rathtar was too quick. You watched with a sick satisfaction as the man was dragged screaming back into the darkness of the crate. He wouldn’t be coming out. You didn’t need his scream to be snapped off suddenly, to know he wasn’t getting up again. A dark shiver swept down your spine. Another death you collected like a stain on your soul.

“Stitch!” Crosshair’s shout made you turn and run.

Blaster fire smattered the ground at your heels. Crosshair covered your retreat, firing on the troopers until you were both safely onboard.

Omega was already in the cockpit. The ship was vibrating as the engines gathered power. The landing gear retracted and the planet began to fall away, replaced by creamy clouds and the darkening blue sky. She let out a cry of triumph, holding up a hand towards Crosshair who glared at her for a moment before reluctantly indulging her in a high five.

“We did it!” She shouted, launching herself at you and knocking the wind completely out of your body as she squeezed.

“Let’s get beyond the cloud bank at least, before you start celebrating,” Crosshair scolded but it held none of his usual cynicism. His voice was soft, almost happy while he concentrated on guiding the ship through the atmosphere. “Coordinates?”

“Oh! On it.” Omega settled back in the pilot seat, her hands flying over the controls as she programmed the navi computer. “I’ll send a coded message to the others before we jump to hyperspace.” She informed you both.

“Omega…” it was the first time you’d heard any real hesitancy from Crosshair. “It’s been months. What if they’re…”

“They’ll be there.” The force of her words and the glare she gave him, left no room for an argument.

He looked away from her, his attention drawing to you just as the lights of space bled all over the wide canopy of the ship.

“You did something.” Offering him a shaky smile you tried to act natural. As natural as you could, anyway, even though you were loosing all feeling in your body. Adrenaline dissipated, leaving you with all the worst sensations.

“I did a lot of things,” you breathed. “You’ll have to elaborate.” A cough almost blinded you from pain. Your legs folded and you collapsed to the floor.

“Stitch! Whats wrong?” Omega rushed over, her eyes travelling down your body as she tried to look for what was hurting. Crosshair frowned, kneeling beside you and moving your hand away from the smarting burn that continued to sear. It was infected. A wound that open, with no treatment, no cleaning…even you could feel it sluggishly running through your veins like a sickness. You had been holding it off for so long. So you could breathe freedom.

“She’s wounded.”

“Were you shot?!” Omega cried.

“Back at Tantiss,” you admitted.

“You never said.”

“I know. We w-were too busy escaping.” She shuffled closer and took your hand in both of hers.

“There must be first aid kit on board,” she told Crosshair who gave her a quick nod and stood up to investigate. “We’ll sort this.”

“This is fine,” you wheezed, trying to hold back another cough. “Hem—Hemlock can’t have me, n—now.”

“What are you saying?” Panic filled her voice.

“T-Thank you, Omega. For—For getting me out.”

“We’re going home,” she sobbed, her eyes filling. “You can’t give up now. What about Tech?” Her face scrunched as she tried not to give in to the tears.

Tech.

That name made your breath hitch, brought tears to your eyes. The name alone dulled the edge of your pain and you gave her a weak smile.

“He’s better off without me,” you breathed.

“That’s a lie,” she whispered. Batcher whined from the corner. Crosshair returned with a box he’d found behind a panel, wrenching it open to rifle through the contents. “She’s fading so fast!” Omega cried, placing a little hand on your forehead.

“She might have been injured in the crash and she never told us,” Crosshair accused, his gaze like a laser as he glared at you.

You wanted to tell him he was right. You were so exhausted from fighting your own body all this time, you just wanted to let go. They were safe, they were going back to their family.

You were so drowsy. Sleep wanted to claim you, cradle you into oblivion.

Hyperspace rushed past, lulling you deeper and deeper into peace and quiet until your eyes finally closed.

Maybe this was it.

This is where you died.

It was your best place yet.

[streamdotpng]

Military School AU

Wednesday gets (semi) seriously hurt in a challenge/Event and Addams' will fight to death (or just literally unable to continue) and Enid has a flashback to the night with the Hyde and her mind goes blank besides protecting Wednesday.

That's how the Nightshades/Wednesday realize Enid doesn't actually hate them/was just hurt and bitter. And how Enid's Pack realizes just how important Wednesday is to their Alpha/realize Enid Imprinted on Wednesday.

Or, Wednesday comes into contact with one of the Pack (handshake, combat, whatever), and has a vision of what Enid's been going through/feeling and how the Pack has been helping/taking care of her. And to everyone's surprise, Wednesday looks absolutely wrecked (but is trying hard not to show it), and gives them her gratitude and thanks for caring for her Wolf when she wasn't there (no matter how much she wanted to be).

[Sorry if this reads weird, I'm typing this in the car on my phone.]

its all good bud! sorry for answering this so late, my ass desperately tried to draw this but my hand is not handing today so lemme set the scene

Incoming huge werewolf lore dump!

Grimwolves are emotional beings. Any overwhelming emotion can lead to a partial shift! from the growing of teeth, a sudden burst of a werewolf paw or the shifting and dislocating of bones to a bigger form-

you can say its part of the reason why enid was so cold. Especially durimg her 'slump' in the 2nd semester of her sophomore year. It didn't help that when the pack settle into the dorm, there are times where they can see Enid desperately clenching her fists before slipping on her bracers.

Sometimes, when they wake up early enough to catch sight of Enid without them, they can see the way the muscles in her arms twitch and shift before settling.

They keep their mouth shut, all too aware of the fact that enid wears her muzzle during classes too. They aren't really dumb, they know of how Enid got her alpha rank after all but there's a difference between hearing and seeing

Sometimes, during the end of the semester when Enid seems to be coping all the more better and the muzzle wasn't such a need anymore, they can see the way she tends to pant with her mouth open at times. It wasn't anything new, most werewolves do that too at times

But it gives them an eyeful of the way too big teeth that most werewolves don't have

(aka enid still tends to get overwhelmed at times and having the ability to shift whenever isn't as much as a blessing like most think)

so! the pack are aware that enid's different. They don't know the exact name and she's a bit too big for her size whenever its time for monthly shifting but they never see her fully shift in distress

And that changes alot.

So as explained briefly here, werewolves have the whole day to get ready for their shift in the night. Which means that they don't tend to be too aggressive, theyre a touch more rational and their body can properly regulate all that wolf magic hormone stuff

Which leads to them looking more wolf than man. Which was a good thing! Makes it easier to blend in with the normies of back then

But grimwolves?

Their shifts are sudden and there is no period to get ready. It's just snap and you're a wolf but normal werewolves aren't made for that and so the body accommodates

So most of the time, it leads to the image above! Grimwolves were rampant back then along with violence so it spread to normies that these were how werewolves are supposed to look like and thus reinforcing their monstrous nature etc etc you get the point

Obviously it's been disproven by outcasts and grimwolves are totally myths

Now, imagine being in a tournament fully expecting to be able to beat a bunch of trained dogs because hey its not like it's the full moon, what can they do?

They already took down the Addams girl and her flowery friends, what's wrong with besting those smug mutts too?

Anyways I suck at words rn but enid beats their ass. She's been trying to control her shifting since her second semester last year but honestly, Wednesday has always lead to her doing the craziest of things

Revealing her existence on live was certainly not one she expected to do but if it meant keeping Wednesday alive-

Well, it wouldn't be the worst thing Enid has done

[stellarcat52]

A familiar needs a magician... right? Right.

Esther died and Monty should have too. But something saved him and Caleb Covington has something to do with it. The warlock seems to want a familiar, and Monty just wants to be safe.

This is one part of a larger story. I'll post more if people seem interested!

-----

When a magician creates a familiar, it connects the animal to their soul. A familiar lives and dies with its magician. A familiar cannot feel hunger or thirst. They are not animals, nor are they tools. A familiar is the living connection between a magician and the spirit of the earth, a core of night infinite magic. But the familiar will never be able to draw on that magic without it passing through it to its magician. A familiar can only use the magic its magician chooses to give it.

If a familiar were ever to survive the death of its magician, nothing would stop it from using the earth’s magic for itself. Of course, this is a purely hypothetical, impossible phenomenon. 

“A ghost such as myself can’t get a familiar, not like you have…” Covington mused. “You’ll get access to whatever profit my clubs produce,” Including the magic, of course, but Covington wanted to make her get a big head when she eventually figures that out. It would make things easier if he ever needed to knock her down a peg in the future. “on the condition that Monty becomes mine when you perish.” He doubted Esther had ever even heard of the legend of an unbound familiar. If she had, well, she had no reason to believe Covington had the means to sever the tie between a dying witch and her bird.

Esther scoffed. “Death will come for you before Lillith gives up on me. What do you really want?” Nobody in their right mind would trust such an obviously one-sided deal. Not even a vain, self-serving immortal such as Esther. 

“An IOU, then, if you insist.” Covington had set a trap with only a few words. If she took it back, she’d seem weak or afraid of what the warlock would ask of her. But if she insisted that wasn’t enough, trying to make sure it wasn’t a trap, she’d be insulting Covington and risk him adding something she couldn’t give him to the deal. “But he is still part of the deal, yes? I’ve always wanted a pet bird”

Of course she agreed to this, Covington would give her credit where it was due but she truly knew nothing about dealing with him. The IOU was only a decoy, he’d never need anything else from that useless witch. But it kept her from wondering why Monty was what he asked for in the first place.

Covington made sure to scratch the crows head on his way out. 

The bird barely reacted.

-Years Later-

Thomas felt the shift in the air instantly. “Caleb.” He smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Covington was dressed to the nines like usual, Wasn’t quite his type, but Thomas could appreciate him nonetheless. “Can’t I just come visit an old friend? You haven’t been to my club as much recently.”

“Well, another ghost has caught my eye.” The cat king admitted. “But Esther’s got her paws on him, and only one of them is going to walk out. Honestly, I don’t know which party has the upper hand here.”

“And here I thought that was always you.”

“You flit.” Thomas purred. But his eyes glinted with distrust. “You aren’t just visiting, are you?”

“I came here to check on Esther, I wanted to see if our little deal would be coming to fruition anytime soon.”

“Then I guess we both have a reason to want her dead right now.”

“I suppose we do.” Covington was silently proud of himself for baiting her into taking power from his clubs all those years ago. It had always been a power play, an ace up his sleeve that had waited decades to finally be played. With nothing more than a click of his fingers, the power flow that Esther had long ago grown used to was cut off completely from her. It wouldn’t do much- he never let her take enough to hurt him- but it would throw her off just enough to give someone else the advantage.

-----

When Esther was dragged away by Lillith, Monty expected to follow her. As her familiar, he should have been destroyed with her. He always knew that was his fate. But death wasn’t what was coming for him. It was a different kind of magic. For a second, he feared it was Lilliths. But it wasn’t there to hurt him. In the mere fractions of a millisecond before her death caught up to Monty, this odd magic came to his rescue and severed the magic link before it could destroy him.

But with the severing, came darkness and silence, and there was no thud of his body hitting the floor for the detectives in the other room to have a chance of hearing. All they’d know, would be that there wasn’t a second body to bury. Not that there was only one soul to mourn, and even then…

-----

Monty woke up slowly to loud, energetic music. Something about Hollywood? It wasn’t worth paying attention to yet because the ambient magic in the air around him was buzzing. Esther never let this much magic run rampant,  but then again she was gone. Monty had to remember that. He stood and spread out his wings, flapped a few times too. Flying wasn’t entirely off the table, he wasn’t injured like he expected to be. But he was fatigued, and it was warm here- if a bit noisy. But the music was much more pleasant than the screams he’d hear in Esther’s house, so Monty didn’t mind.

He sat on the leather seat where he’d woken up for a few more minutes, listening to the music. But it ended, and a ghost warped into the room right in front of Monty’s eyes. A ghost that Monty took a moment to realize he recognized him. And Esther had only ever let him interact with a select few before… Monty might’ve been a bit slow at the time, but he never truly forgets a face or name of someone he knows.

Covington looked at him with a smile as Monty squawked rapidly in surprise. “Oh, I can’t understand you like this. Why don’t we…” He blew a kiss at the crow and Monty found himself human again. Caleb seemed pleasantly surprised, he’d never excelled at biological transformations, and so he had to assume this wasn’t his work. “I see Esther gave you a body of your own.”

“Not that I asked for it.” Monty mumbled. He still hated her for giving him human emotions. It had been nothing but heartbreak- sadness, anger,- ever since. “Sorry, Mr. Covington. Sir. I… thought I was supposed to vanish with Esther. Did she-?” Was this fear? Worry? Shouldn't he have felt hopeful or happy? If he was still alive…

“No.” Covington put on a look of sympathy. ”She didn’t survive. But she and I made a deal years ago that if she ever perished, you would come to me. And it seems that deal had enough power to bring you right to me.”

“Why would she do that? Why would you do that?” It was almost definitely not for Monty’s benefit. Panic- maybe just fear? What was the difference?- was starting to settle in. Was Covington going to treat him the same way that She did?

“Montague.” His name- was that even his name? Wasn’t it just Monty? He couldn't remember that far back.- caught him off guard. “A ghost like myself, magician or not, cannot acquire a familiar through normal means. Every chance I’ve had to get one I’ve tried to take. Esther’s passing is a horrible thing, but it has brought you to me and that is a wonderful thing.”

“Now, there might not be any spell that will bind you to me the same way you were bound to her, but I do hope you’ll stay with me. I have my dancers, but alas they’re not the same as having a familiar.” Covington’s hands were suddenly firmly on Monty’s shoulders. The touch further grounded? Him. Grounding was supposed to be comforting, right? So this feeling of being trapped was wrong. Must be the bird instincts carrying over. “It’s not the same as having a family, Montague. The one thing my magic cannot bring me, and yet here you are. But you do have a choice.” Surely he wanted an answer instantly, Esther would have.

“I…” Monty's eyes felt wet. Tears..? Fuck these human emotions. He wasn’t even sure what he was feeling- it was all just so much. “I don’t know yet.”

Covington didn’t seem surprised at that response. He was fine without a yes or no right now. “Why don’t you see if you like being human? Stay at the club for a bit.”He suggested. ”If you’d like a job, I could give you a simple one.”

A job. That’s what Monty was used to. That didn’t need emotions. A tension in his chest that he hadn’t noticed was suddenly gone. “That would be great. Whatever you need.”

Covington seemed surprised for a second, maybe not expecting Monty to be so eager? “We’ll start you small. Just delivering dishes to the lifers after performances.” He smiled. “Maybe if you decide to stick around I can teach you the choreography.” Covington suggested as he summoned a new outfit and ID card out of thin air and offered them to Monty.

Monty would pay more attention to his appearance later, but right then he was focused on the ID that he had just accepted. “Montague Finch-Covington?”

“I hope it isn’t too much. You’re family now, let me show you off just a bit.” 

Was this what familial love was supposed to be? Monty felt… warm. And that feeling didn’t fade when the music started up again and Covington had to excuse himself to go entertain his guests.

Monty looked at the card. A black feather border decorated a picture he definitely never posed for. Some kind of illusion magic, probably. Covington was powerful, a little illusion printed onto a card wouldn’t have been that hard.  Would it have been difficult for Esther? She never cared much for illusions except for her own cosmetics.

Maybe Monty should compare them less. Covington was an improvement in any way he could think of at the moment.

He might not have decided on being human or crow yet, but Monty had decided that he would be sticking around in Hollywood. He was a Covington now, and as a familiar, he was meant to stay near his family.

-----

Caleb’s expectations for Montague’s ability to entertain were blown out of the water. No matter who the unbound familiar approached, with or without food or purpose,vthey all took to him like moths to a flame. Even the other workers, most of which had to be forced to stick around, were eating out of the palm of Montague’s hand after just a few exchanged words. As for his singing, well, crows might not be well known for their song but Montague was born to be a star. Even if the boy was still too shy to sing if he knew someone could hear him.

He was almost perfect. A little confidence boost here, some etiquette teachings there… But Montague’s biggest flaw was that he didn’t yet know how to use his nigh unlimited magical power. Admittedly it was just legend that unbound familiars were the among the strongest beings in existence, a story that Caleb had never had the chance to prove before, but Montague definitely felt as though he had quite a lot of magic built up in that sometimes feathery form.

Caleb warped just outside the room he had offered Montague. He rapped his knuckles against the door and waited only a second for a response.

“Come in!”

“Montague…” Caleb trailed off. The boy was sitting on the bed, in an absolute mess of blankets that had previously been neatly tucked in.

“Please, just call me Monty. I don’t even remember if Esther gave me that long of a name.” Montague was adjusting the blankets in a manner that just made them seem more messy to Caleb but he was very intent on moving them around in such a way. “So what did you want?” 

Montague still wasn’t facing him, which gave him a clear view of the boy’s back which was tensing with anxiety. An emotion Caleb both wanted to eradicate and take advantage of. “I came to ask how you felt today? I worried sending you right to work would be too much but it seems I underestimated your abilities.”

Montague sighed. No reason to lie, really. “I… All these human emotions are still new to me. I’ve been fully awakened for maybe a month now?” He laughed nervously. “Working is about the only thing I think I can do right now.”

“Esther hadn’t awakened you?” No wonder he was so innocent. Still, there was some darkness behind those ever-sparkling eyes. “Did she not have the power?” Caleb traded a secret method of filter feeding power specifically so he could acquire a powerful familiar.

“She did. Just wouldn’t waste it on me until I would actually be useful.” The mess of blankets finally seemed to be to Montague’s liking and he turned around to face Caleb. “Even then, she practically killed me like two weeks later when I failed.” Caleb’s eyes went dark with distaste and Monty’s eyes went wide with implemented fear. “Sorry, sorry. You weren’t asking about-”

“Montague.” The familiar froze at his name. Or maybe it was just Caleb’s voice that had that effect. It commanded him, but not in the same way he was used to.. “Esther was vain, arrogant, and apparently much more of a fool than I had thought. The reason most lifer magicians have familiars is to bring them power and provide assistance but she ignored and hurt you?” Unless given a reason, even Caleb didn’t hurt his people. And he never ignored them, even if they sometimes wished he would. “You’re safe here. And if you’d like to be given jobs then I’ll find work for you.”

It was becoming evident to Caleb that Montague wasn’t going to be all that troublesome. Kindness was more than enough to both terrify and enrapture the boy. Something- maybe beyond Esther- had hurt him enough that he wouldn’t go off chasing silly emotions like love or pity. This wouldn’t be a repeat of William, in fact Montague was already more than that freedom chasing fool would ever be.

Caleb could tell Montague had something to say so he waited until the boy was ready to speak. “I thought familiars were just… animals. For so long. I-I still can’t see why you wanted one. Much less… me.”

“I can see you were never informed of your own power.” He clicked his tongue in disappointment, not exactly at Montague but he wanted to see the reaction. It terrified the boy. “A familiar is not just an animal. Magicians throughout the ages have taken pride in their familiars because of their abilities.”

“What abilities?” Montague scoffed. “I can’t do anything without Esther, or I guess you.”

“But you can, Esther simply failed to show you what you can do.” Caleb smiled. “All the magic I can do and more, that is what you are capable of. And I will teach you everything I know.” he promised.

Monty’s eyes flickered a gorgeous deep indigo just at the thought of doing magic. A testament to how much power he held. “When can we start?”

[leavethemtorot]

fingers in my hands (i'm cancelin' my plans)

Listen. It's them, what was I supposed to do make something tame?? (It's still fade to black but)

The salt stung his nose and eyes, so palpable it coated his tongue. The wind was strong, a storm most likely on its way, but he couldn’t be bothered to care about his ruffled hair when there was a warm breath and a pair of lips on his neck. 

“Must you always be so indecent?”

“You act like you don’t want this, that you couldn’t just walk away.”

A chuckle danced across his skin, sending shivers up his spine. Hands pressed against his hips with fingers slipping under his shirt. He gets pulled even closer, back pressed against a warm chest, the lips getting even more aggressive, nipping at any movement from him. He couldn’t help but sink into the warmth, eyes fluttering shut, leaving him unaware of the approaching presence.

“You have duties other than him to attend to. Actually he isn’t one of your duties at all. Quit slacking off or you’ll be removed from your post and Harriet will be informed of your indiscretions.”

Diego removed his lips from his skin long enough to grin and remark to Sammy, “I’m sure Harriet would disagree.”

Anthony opened his eyes lazily, drinking in the sight of Sammy staring at the two, clearly used to Diego’s bullshit. He raked his eyes up and down over the blonde, taking both in the view and advantage of the rare opportunity to truly stare at the younger. The wind swept blonde hair and lean muscles painted such a lovely image, one can tell that he grew up working on a ship. 

Diego finally decides to escalate, slowly reaching up and tilting Anthony’s face towards his, kissing him while keeping his eyes on Sammy, daring him to try and stop the couple. Anthony finally took his eyes off of Sammy, eyes shutting once more as he turned to better kiss his partner.

Sammy scoffs and storms off, sending a pang in Anthony’s heart. It never let go easily and the sight of the first man he loved never stopped managing to hurt a little. Even if no one knew about his feelings.

He quickly got distracted again as Diego slid his hands fully under his shirt, stroking his ribs as he kissed him even deeper. Anthony finally took some initiative and wrapped his arms around the others shoulders, playfully tugging at his hair. They stood there making out for a few minutes before Anthony realized that Harriet might be in her quarters. He pulled away ignoring Diego’s slight whine.

“Harriet’s quarters.” 

Another kiss.

“Private.”

Kiss.

“Now.”

He started leading Diego away, occasionally planting another kiss on his hand. They stumbled across the deck, drawing whistles and eye rolls in tow. Once they made it to her room, Diego pressed Anthony against the door, pushing it open while staking an unnecessary claim on the older boy. Harriet, who had been actually working on paperwork for once, snarled before realizing it was just her boys, clearly engaged in something that had been going on for a while, clothes and hair disheveled and the darkening hickeys scattered along Anthony’s neck, enticing the woman to the lovely sight.

She pulled them apart, eyes dark as Diego once again whines, his hands reaching back towards Anthony before finally noticing Harriet. She grinned at the two, wide and teethy, before kissing the both in quick succession. Diego quickly fell into her, hands tugging at her coat as he pressed desperate kisses into her skin. She shucked her coat off, giving easier access for Diego to grab at her waist.

Anthony leaned back, half lidded eyes watching his lovers paw at each other's clothing, too lost in the other's mouths to make any real advancements in the pursuit of skin.  He stood there for a moment just enjoying the view before wrapping his arms around Diego, placing his hands on Harriets hips to trap the younger boy between them. He mouthed at any exposed skin he could as Harriet took the opportunity to remove Diego’s shirt. He began shuffling them all towards Harriet’s bed, connected to her office via an ensuite. 

Once making it to the bed, they quickly fell into it. Anthony strips Harriet of her shirt and himself of his. They had Diego laid out, pressing bruising kisses and nipping teeth into his skin. They were so lost in each other that they all completely missed the figure slipping through the still open door. She approached, finally closing the door behind her, curious and pouting all the same. 

Finally laying eyes on the trio, Ginny couldn’t help but whine.

“You didn’t wait or include me?”

“Gin.” Harriet breathed, barely audible but still filled with longing. She motioned for the girl to come towards them. Ginny complied, ridding herself of her shirt in the process.

The foursome were finally completed, alone in a bed and with others knowing better to disturb them. Not fearing death for anything but a pressing emergency. They remained alone and undisturbed for the night. A rare and savored occasion. 

[crab-instruments]

The Crime Lord’s New Groove Part 5

Master <Part 4 Part 6>

Pairing: Silco x GN Reader

Summary: You find that your boss, Silco, has been turned into a cat.

Warnings: none

a/n: I'm not dead, just listening to podcast about people with delusions of grandeur, and maybe that's where this story will end up.

Smuggling cat-Silco into his office was much easier than getting him out. It helped Sevika could glare anyone into submission, forcing them to look down at the ground while you carried the precious cargo that was your boss.

You and Sevika tore the office apart, searching for any clues. Random cursed objects, cat claws and whiskers used for a sacrifice, even Shimmer tainted catnip. There was nothing, though it’s not like either of you knew what to look for. Besides, neither of you spent enough time in the office to know if something was out of place.

The cat himself clearly had other things to do. You watched as Silco tapped objects around with mild interest, using some to test the gravity in the office. A small pile of trinkets and pens amassed on the floor as time went on. Every once and a while, Silco would sit his scruffy-looking ass down, tail wrapped over his front paws, and stare holes into you and Sevika. His look was bored, as if expecting to be entertained. Neither of you knew what he wanted, so he would go back to tapping objects.

“So, what you’re telling me is… you know nothing.”

Never taking your eye off a pen as it rolled under the desk, you responded dejectedly. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds like I didn’t try. However, I think I’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty here.”

Sevika scoffed. “Right. You have no answers and no leads but you definitely deserve a raise.”

You groaned and swiveled your head toward the golden armed warrior. “It’s not like I was here when it happened and I already told you my suspect is—”

“A lady with no appointment, who said something, and left without anyone noticing.”

“Yeah so, I mean, that’s not nothing—”

“There are many ladies in Zaun, you moron, it barely narrows it down.”

“I’m not exactly an expert in therianthropy or shapeshifting. I work behind the bar most nights! Y’all don’t even trust me enough to do inventory, so I fail to see how this is remotely my problem.” You dug the heals of your hands into your eyes and sighed, annoyed at how unlucky you were to have been the one to have found Silco. “Do you remember what that old hag looked like, from yesterday? She was the last one you saw come in here, right? Could you describe her enough so I could draw her face and see if we can use that to ask around?”

It was quiet for a moment. You looked up to see both Silco and Sevika staring at you incredulously. Raising your arms in question, you glared back at the two.

Sevika huffed, “You can draw? I’ve seen your handwriting, it’s dogshit.”

Underpaid and underappreciated, you wondered why you even offered and why you were still here. You grabbed a pen off the floor and some loose paper, making room on the messy desk. The sketch of the woman’s face started out generic, a base for Sevika to go off of.

It was all going fine until a few lines started to get out of hand and the pen became difficult to use. You scowled at Silco, who was much closer and swatting the moving pen. Lifting the pen out of reach, you frowned, trying to convey your annoyance. No emotion showed on his face, only focused on his target.

A silent battle was fought between the two of you. Silco looked at you with defiant eyes. This was Silco’s desk, pen, paper, and office, and if he wanted to play with the pen, it was his right. However, you were trying to help make him not a cat and his little paws were interfering with that work. After a few seconds, you made your attack. You lifted Silco up, keeping him at arms length, and placed him on the chair all while ignoring the deepening scowl the scruffy feline gave.

“If Silco remembers what happened while he was a cat, he’ll kill you. Maybe worse.”

You sighed, “He’ll have to get in line. Just tell me what the lady looked like.”

Silco accepted his fate, stretching his claws into the seat of the chair, walking in a circle, and curling up into a fluffy ball.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After pulling the details out from Sevika, which was more difficult than you could have imagined (like it was Sevika’s job to keep them secret and close to her heart), you had a sketch to go off of. When you had a moment to finally look at it, you were sure you messed up somewhere.

You turned to Sevika, the sketch outstretched in your hands. “Is this what she looked like?”

“Shit, that looks just like the woman. It’s almost like you’ve seen her before.”

Silco snapped his head up, eyes bleary from sleep, now alert. He uncurled himself from the chair to leap onto the desk for a better vantage point. A single paw tapped your wrist impatiently a few times until you laid out the sketch on the desk. Silco took a few steps back, taking in the portrait. His head tilted from side to side before he pounced on the paper and looked up at you, meowing in approval.

“Even Silco agrees.” You rubbed your face, giving yourself a moment to think. “Well, the good news is, I know who the woman is.”

“Really? Who?”

“My landlord.”

Seivka stood and started making her way toward the door. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get going.”

“Wait! But I live there! I can’t go accusing my landlord of witchcraft, she’ll evict me.”

“How is that my problem?”

You sputtered, thrown off kilter by Sevika’s lack of empathy. “Where would I live?”

Before Sevika could answer, Silco meowed loud enough to startle you both. He held his presence as if he was human again, demanding respect and attention. It was easy to forget how powerful he was when he looked so cute and fluffy.

“Silco will reward you for helping him, of course.”

Sighing, you considered the offer. Realistically, you couldn’t say no to Silco anyway. “Fine, but let me talk to her first. I’ll try to negotiate nicely and if that doesn’t work, you can be the bad cop.”

The golden armed brute looked toward that cat sitting on the desk, waiting for approval. Silco sat up straight, regal as always, and looked between the two of you. He nodded and blinked slowly. It was a weird scene to experience, waiting for a cat to dictate the path of your future.

The same cat that started grooming himself on top of the desk.

“The boss has spoken, let’s go.”

Part 6

*~*~*

[amazingmsme]

We absolutely want your version of events please and thank you

Thank you, y’all never fail to enable me, I love it

Warnings for mildly disturbing content, but if you saw Hey, Melissa you already know what you’re in for. & if not, then I guess warnings for kidnapping, torture, dub-con, & pet play (yeah this is one of the weirder nightmare time episodes)

So yeah, just so y’all know what you’re getting into

So when Melissa sees that Paul’s not really interested in her, she sets her sights on an easier target: Ted. She plays along with his flirting & invites him over with plans of keeping him

He takes her to dinner & while he’s in the bathroom, she drugs him to make things easier on herself. She strips him like we see in the episode & I feel like for the first time that he wakes up, he’s just tied up with a leash instead of in the cage. At first he thinks this is just some very kinky & abrupt foreplay, but the way she’s talking so sternly & seriously lets him know that it’s more serious than he thought. He starts apologizing for everything he’s said & done to her & she just keeps shushing him & telling him to “stop barking”

Replace the taser with a shock collar to keep him in line. & instead of, um, that fucked up shit she did to his fingers, she took a sharpie or some paint & drew on the paw beans. She was especially cruel when she got to his feet, ignoring his begging & cooing at him like the “cute puppy he is” & just kept asking if he had ticklish paws

If she catches him walking around, trying to use his hands, or other “human stuff” she uses the shock collar

From there, it’s a lot of the same stuff with keeping him locked up & feeding him dog food

Melissa finally manages to trick Paul into coming over & she manages to knock him out & put a collar on him & everything. Paul still remembers that she likes cats & meows trying to be set free, but really it doesn’t change too much. He still gets the bean treatment because this version isn’t painful. Since he’s a cat, I feel like she’d also draw whiskers

It took a few days for Ted to find where she hid his phone, but he had a ton of missed calls & texts from Peter asking where the fuck he is & he’s already got a missing person case for him (not that they give a shit, this is Hatchetfield, people go missing every day!) but he calls him & tries to explain what happened. Peter is freaking out & says he’s gonna call the police & Ted tells him not to because then it’ll end up in the papers & all over the news & “he’d rather be dead in some chick’s apartment than the laughing stalk of Hatchetfield” & says he’ll make it out on his own “when the time is right” whatever the hell that means

Peter is worrying himself to death & his friends are just laughing it up making jokes & memes at every opportunity

It’s all fun & games until Richie’s uncle goes missing SHUT UP GUYS IT’S NOT FUNNY!

Melissa still invites her friends over to play with her new “pets” & this time they tie them up to make sure they can’t get away (they have plans & they know they’ll get too squirmy)

& yeah Ted’s Ted so he kinda wants to see where this is going because hey, this many girls have never wanted him at once! But on the other hand paw, Melissa is fucking crazy & he wants to escape with Paul, he just wants these girls to have some fun first

The girls are so fucking teasy it’s unreal, & they brought some tools to help them like those fluffy cat toys, (keeping with the theme I see) makeup brushes, feathers, electric toothbrushes, etc. to keep the fun going!

It starts out slow & simple enough with the girls cooing & stroking them. Paul is scrunching up & trying hard not to giggle, but Ted doesn’t have the same luck because of course where do they fucking go first? His belly

Ted holds out for as long as he can, but their touches are light & they have long nails & it’s just so much harder than it looks! & once they get one laughing the others wanna hear Paul break down & they get him to crack when they bring out the feathers

When Paul giggles they’re like “awww listen to the kitty purr!” & while they tickle Ted’s stomach & he undoubtedly thrashes around, they tease him like he’s a dog shaking his leg & just ask repeatedly “aww you poor thing, does that tickle? Did we find your tickle spot?”

They play around with the different tools they brought & all the while just baby them like they’re cute little sensitive pets. & trust me, they take their time & they make sure to make their teases as flustering as possible. Melissa even has “muzzles” gags for when they get “too loud”

The girls eventually get bored & watch a movie or something & end up falling asleep. In their earlier excitement, Melissa didn’t latch the ton of locks on the front door, & they managed to escape

When they finally get back to work, they’re both SO jumpy around Melissa is hilarious. & they’re both trying to warn Bill & he doesn’t believe them at all because she just seems like such a sweet, normal, innocent girl!

& like I said, I’m a paulkins truther, so in my version Paul doesn’t come crawling back to be her poor little meow meow. Ted might tho, he’s gotta think it over first