#tw implied animal abuse

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 7

Chapter 6 || Index || Chapter 8

WARNING: This chapter contains animal husbandry from the perspective of animals. There will be themes of: dubious consent, pregnancy, abortion, and implied animal abuse.

If you do not want to read any of the above, the chapter summary below describes all the important plot beats going forward. If you do wish to read the chapter, see below the cut. Chapter summary for those who wish to skip: Fireheart visits with Princess and learns that she is carrying kits. Seeking to help her, he brings Yellowfang and Dewpaw to speak with his sister under Tigerclaw's nose. They bring back some catmint to use for any leafbare greencough, and Fireheart learns about the greencough epidemic the leafbare before he joined, in which many older warriors and elders died, including Peppermask's grandmother Swiftbreeze.

The days grew colder and colder as the last of the leaves dropped from their trees onto the forest below. Fireheart shivered as he passed between the barren bushes, his long puffed fur not keeping him warm enough in the cold leafbare morning. He had told Tigerclaw he was off hunting near Tallpines, hoping that the location far from camp would yield more prey. While he would, eventually, the truth was a little different.

“Princess!” He called over the fence, trying to keep his voice light even as his body shook from the cold. It was about this season that he had first been taken from the nursery to his new Twoleg home, and something about it made him long for his sister’s comfort more than ever. He wouldn’t dare tell anyone in the Clan that, of course, as they would surely make fun of him for having such kittypet weakness, but he knew his sister would understand.

Cold silence filled the air around him as he stood there, waiting for her to appear. Perhaps she was in her Twoleg nest, curled up beside her Twoleg for warmth. They had plush beds that kept heat long after the body that had warmed it was gone, and burning fires that they kept in little stone dens to warm their nests. Very few kittypets would be willing to brave the cold when they had all of that at their paws, and he couldn’t say he blamed them.

Still, he thought - he hoped - that his sister would come out, at least for a little while, to talk to him. “Princess?” He called again, unable to keep the apprehension from creeping into his voice. She took longer before, when he had come to the wrong garden, but he was certain he had the right one this time. And yet, as he stood there and shivered patiently, there was still no response.

Maybe she just hadn’t heard him? He hesitated, not sure if he should call for her louder. He didn’t want even the cats in Riverclan camp to hear him crying for a kittypet, though, and part of him worried what might happen if a Twoleg heard his yowl. Maybe he could enter her garden, just this once?

Still, as he bunched up his legs for the jump, part of him held back. He recalled Lionheart’s dire warning when Bluestar had first extended the offer for him to join Thunderclan;  “If you did become a Clan cat, you would never return to your Twolegplace. If you did, then you would be exiled.” Just the mere threat was enough to make him shiver, not from the cold, but from fear.

He shook his head. They had meant that he couldn’t return to being a kittypet. And he wasn’t going to! He would only talk to his sister, nothing more. He wouldn’t even go in the Twoleg’s nest. It would be fine.

His mind made up, he jumped to the top of the fence in one easy bound. He hesitated at the top, looking down into his sister’s garden. It was filled with flowers, much like his own garden had been, although they were dying off now that the frost had come. In the center was a circular stone floor; a ‘patio’, they had called it; with spindly chairs and a table on top of it. His own Twolegs had had a similar setup, though they had rarely used it.

He still didn’t see Princess as he scanned the flowers. Where had she gone? His heart quickened as he imagined her entering the forest searching for him. But surely that would have been news amongst Thunderclan? Unless she-

A flash of motion from the Twoleg nest caught his attention, and he was about to leap back the way he had come when he realized it was Princess emerging from the cat flap. “Princess!” He mewed happily from where he sat on the fence. “Why didn’t you say something? You had me worried!”

“I’m sorry, Fireheart.” Her voice was even softer than he remembered it, and he frowned as he looked down at her. Her tawny pelt, normally silky and smooth, looked as though it hadn’t been groomed in several days. Her tail was low, brushing against the ground, and even her emerald eyes seemed to have lost their spark as she looked up at him. “I… I suppose I must not have heard you the first time.”

“What’s wrong?” He asked with a frown. “Is it because I almost entered your garden? I’m sorry. I can stay outside, if you prefer.”

She hesitated, then slowly shook her head. “No, it’s not you. I’m sorry, Fireheart, I just…” Her voice trailed off as she slowly looked down to her slightly dirty white paws.

He glanced around, looking for any sign that someone might spot him, but the forest and Twolegplace were both still and quiet. Gathering himself, he leaped down into her garden, fur prickling in worry as he pressed into her side. “What’s wrong? You look-” He cut himself off. Life in the Clan had quickly taught him that making comments on a molly’s appearance was a bad idea. “Are you sick? Did something happen? If any cat attacked you, I’ll-”

“No, Fireheart. I haven’t been attacked.” He blinked gently at her as she interrupted him. She looked briefly up into his eyes, before squeezing them shut and turning away. “Fireheart, I- I think I’m going to have kits.”

“Huh?” He stared at her in confusion. He knew what that meant; after all, Goldenflower had carried Frostfur’s kits, back when he was an apprentice. But they had been mates, and they were both queens, and that was normal for them. There had been talk of Whitestorm and Lionheart having kits come newleaf, thanks to the Clan’s queens. But they too were mates that cared deeply for each other. “You’ve never even told me you had a mate!”

“I don’t.” She was on the verge of tears as she looked back down at her paws. “I don’t- I don’t know if I even want kits, Fireheart!”

He stared at her, his mind racing. None of that made any sense. And yet, he knew that he loved his sister, the only family he had, and that whatever else happened, it was his responsibility to help her. “Tell me what happened.” He mewed at last, padding over to sit beside her and beginning to gently lick at her forehead.

“Oh, Fireheart. I don’t know what to do. I’m all confused inside.” She cried, tears dripping down her cheeks even as her eyes were screwed shut. “I- I trusted them. My housefolk, they’ve always been so good to me, but now… I don’t know. I don’t know!”

He didn’t answer for several moments as he lapped at one of her ears. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?” He finally suggested to her.

She hesitated, then nodded softly, letting out a small hiccup as she did. “It all started about a moon ago. My housefolk, they took me to the vet. It was this big, strange smelling place with all white floors and walls. Another housefolk, they came in and felt me all over and poked me a few times with strange claws. It was weird, but it seemed like it made my housefolk happy, so I just smiled and purred.”

He stopped washing her for a moment as something in what she said tugged at the back of his mind. “We’ve been to the vet before, haven’t we? When we were young kits.” He mewed softly. “Our mother’s housefolk, they put us all in a big hard box with a little door. They poked us with those big claws then, too.”

“They did!” She seemed surprised at the mention of it, then gave him a weak purr. “Do you remember how our littlest brother howled when they first poked him?”

“Do I ever! You would’ve thought they were killing him.” Fireheart shook his head bemusedly at the memory. “That was just before we went to our new housefolk, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” She was suddenly somber again, and he gently lapped at her cheek twice before moving on to groom her neck. “My housefolk took me in one of those boxes to the vet last moon as well. It wasn’t… it wasn’t fun, but they seemed pleased with themselves, so I just let them do it.” She flicked her ear sadly. “But then, a few days ago, they put me in that box again and carried me back out to the Monster.”

“Again?” He mewed in surprise. The box, as he recalled, had been a very rare occurrence when he had lived as a kittypet. “Why would they take you back to the vet?”

“That’s what I thought, at first.” She replied, her voice tinged with regret. “But they took me somewhere else, instead. They put me in a nice room, with furniture and scratching posts and lots of food and water. And… and there was a tom.” She choked up for a moment. “His name was Oliver.”

Fireheart flicked an ear to show he had heard, but said nothing yet. “He asked me if I knew where I was, and I told him I didn’t. He told me that was normal, and he’d tell me everything.” Tears started flowing from her eyes, staining her tawny fur a dark brown. “He told- He said that he was what housefolk called a ‘stud’, and that other housefolk brought him their cats so they could have his kits. I asked him why, and he said he didn’t know, but that the housefolk got very angry at him if he didn’t do his job, so…”

The ginger warrior struggled to understand what she was saying. “So the housefolk make him father all these kits? But why?”

“Yes- no- maybe? I don’t know.” She struggled to find the right words. The young tom pressed closer into his sister’s side and began lapping at her fur faster. “He said that the housefolk would get really excited when the queens had kits, and they’d take good care of them before giving them to other housefolk. Sometimes the same queens would come back, and that’s how he knew, but not all the time. Sometimes, he thinks they would then go to different ‘studs’ instead.” 

Her whole body was shaking now, though her fur still held the warmth of the Twoleg nest. “He was so nice, and my housefolk were so gentle when they came back for me, but I hated it. I hated it!” She howled it out into the cold, still air, icy tendrils curling around her mouth as she did so. “Do you think this is going to be the rest of my life, Fireheart? Having kits to make the housefolk happy?” 

He didn’t know how to answer that. In the Clans, kits always seemed to be a joyous occasion. They were new life, and they would eventually become new warriors that served the Clan. That was a good thing. But the queens did so happily, and they never seemed to harbor doubts about their role in Clan life, not like his sister was. 

“Do you think that the same thing happened to our mother?” Princess asked softly as she stared out at the flowers in her garden. “Do you think she’s had another litter by now?”

“I- I don’t know.” Fireheart meowed at last. “She seemed happy around us. She seemed to love us.”

“She seemed to, though.” The light brown molly’s body was wracked by another sobbing fit. “What if she didn’t? What if she only did it because she thought she had to?”

Had their mother been happy? He wished he could go fetch her, or one of the queens, to talk about it with her. But if he did, then the whole Clan would surely know that he had been talking to a kittypet. What cat in the Clan could he trust to keep such a secret? As he thought about it, he realized he might have an answer to that question.

“Princess, I won’t leave if you don’t want me to, but I think I know a cat that might be able to help you.” He mewed softly. “She- she takes care of all the queens in our Clan. She’s seen a lot in her long life. Maybe she knows of something that can help you.”

His sister was silent for a long time. Just as he thought she might not have heard him, she shifted away slightly. “Help me how?” She asked distrustfully.

“I- I mean, like I said, she takes care of all the queens in our Clan, and the kits when they get sick. She probably knows a lot more about being a queen than I do.” He thought back through all the interactions he’d had with Yellowfang. “And she treats them with herbs, too, to help them with their kits. Maybe… maybe she knows something about preventing queens from having kits, as well?” He didn’t know if such a thing existed, or if queens would even have use for such a thing. He didn’t know a lot, as he was very quickly realizing.

They sat in tense silence for a long moment. “If you think she’ll help.” Princess finally agreed with a small dip of her head, beginning to lap at her chest fur, though he could tell her heart wasn’t in it.

“I- I hope she will.” He didn’t know for sure, but he had to have hope. “I’ll be right back, regardless of whether she agrees to come or not. Okay?” As his sister flicked her tail farewell, he turned and bounded back out of the garden.

He encountered no cat within the forest: all were busy on other patrols. He raced through the forest, not daring to stop for anything. Luckily, nothing disturbed him.

 At least, not until he dashed through the bramble entrance into camp. “Where are you going?” He flinched as he heard Tigerclaw’s familiar growl from near the leader’s den, and turned to see the dark tabby watching him. “I thought you were out hunting.”

“I was!” He panted, winded from running back so quickly. “But- I saw a flower- still growing- saw Yellowfang- use it once-”

The deputy’s lip curled in a grimace. “And that’s enough for you to come back to camp without any prey?” He snarled down at the young warrior. “The Clan needs food, not herbs.”

“I know, but I-” He noticed Dewpaw slip out from the healer’s den. “Dewpaw!” He called quickly. The small tabby molly perked up at the call, and scanned the clearing to notice him and Tigerclaw. She padded over with a polite smile to the both of them. “Can you convince Tigerclaw for me? I saw a rare flower in the forest, one that I think Yellowfang needs.”

She looked a bit confused at his statement, but her ears perked forward nonetheless. “What did this rare flower look like?” She asked him quickly.

He hesitated. Was she calling his bluff? “It- it was golden. Like the sun. But it had orange flecks too!” He stared at her, pleading with her to understand the hint. It was exactly the same way that he had described Redtail’s eyes to her, as proof that he wasn’t lying about seeing the former deputy’s spirit.

Her eyes widened, and she nodded quickly. “Oh yes! That sounds like the firefern. It only blooms for a few days, after the first frost, but we can use it to cure suncough. Yellowfang will want you to show her where immediately!” She turned to Tigerclaw, a scowl quickly coming to her face. “As for you! Why would you detain a warrior that is only trying to help his Clan thrive? Just because you’re deputy now doesn’t mean you can interfere with healer affairs!” She flicked her tail for Fireheart to leave, clearly prepared to square up to the deputy for him.

He gratefully scuttled away, leaving the two to bicker behind him as he sped into Yellowfang’s den. The grizzled molly was pawing through the herbs, mumbling to herself about stocks and supplies. “Yellowfang!” He whispered urgently. “I need your help, but I also need you to keep it a secret from the Clan. Can I trust you to do that?”

The healer paused, and for a few heartbeats he wondered if she was thinking about yowling for someone to help. Instead, she turned to face him. “I’ve kept Redtail a secret, haven’t I?” She replied in her usual bitter growl. “What is so important that you would need my help, of all things?”

“I-” He hesitated, trying to figure out where to start. “I’ve been meeting with my sister. She’s a kittypet, in the Twolegplace.” Yellowfang’s ear flicked, but she didn’t seem very surprised by the admission. “She thinks she’s going to have kits, but she’s not sure if she wants them, either. It- it’s complicated. I think she can explain better than I can.”

The old molly regarded him with a stern copper gaze. “You want me to use my limited stores to treat a kittypet?” She asked him slowly, a fiery spark in her eye.

“I- maybe? If she needs it. Look, I just- I want you to talk to her, at least. She needs someone that isn’t a mousebrain to help her, and I just can’t do it alone.” He pleaded with her, hoping that she would agree rather than reveal to the Clan what he had been doing the past few moons.

She stared at him a little longer. “I’ll talk to her. But only if Dewpaw can come along.” As Fireheart bristled, opening his mouth to reply, she shushed him with a flick of her tail. “These are rare healer secrets you’re asking me to use, and as my apprentice she should be there to learn them. You know as well as I do that Dewpaw will never reveal your secret to the Clan either.”

He hesitated. He hadn’t told Princess that he would be bringing back two cats. Yet, he couldn’t deny Yellowfang’s request either. “Alright.” He admitted with a sigh. “Just- be gentle with my sister, won’t you? She’s very confused right now, and scared, and I don’t want her to be hurt more.”

Yellowfang chuffed in amusement. “I’ll treat her however I very well please, thank you. Now, then; the Twolegplace, you said?” She asked, beginning to push past him.

“Yes. I’ll show you the way.” As she moved towards the entrance, he remembered Tigerclaw and Dewpaw were still likely arguing in the clearing. “Wait! Before you go out there, I, uhm, lied to Tigerclaw to come see you. I told him I had seen a rare flower while out hunting, and Dewpaw said it was a ‘firefern’, which treats suncough, or something.”

The old healer snorted. “At least she’s better at improvising than you are.” With that, Fireheart followed her out of the den and towards where the deputy and apprentice were still bickering. “Dewpaw! Come on! That firefern isn’t going to last very long in this frost!” 

The two turned to look at Yellowfang storming her way across camp, the ginger warrior on her tail. “Right away, Yellowfang!” She chirped, trotting beside Fireheart as they headed for the bramble entrance. He could hear Tigerclaw yowl something at them as they exited, but he didn’t want to put the energy or thought into puzzling out what the deputy was saying.

His heart raced faster than his paws as he led the two healers to his sister, filling Dewpaw in on the way. He was risking a lot, and he knew that, but he also knew that he would do anything in his power to help her, and this was hopefully one such thing. 

It seemed impossibly long before he saw the treeline, and beyond that the fence of his sister’s garden. He slowed to a halt at the edge of the trees. “Wait here until I call for you. She’s scared, and I don’t think she’ll react well to two strangers appearing in her garden without warning, even if I’m with you.”

Yellowfang nodded and sat down, muttering something to Dewpaw he didn’t catch as he bounded out to the Twoleg fence. He leaped over to find her sitting in the same place he had left her, shivering in the cold but waiting determinedly for him nonetheless.

“I’m back.” He mewed softly, rubbing his cheek against hers in greeting. “I brought back the cat I was telling you about. Her name is Yellowfang. She might look scary, but I promise you, she’s the best healer I’ve ever met.” 

“I- Okay.” Her white-tipped tail twitched nervously at his words, but she didn't voice any worries she might have.

“She also brought her apprentice, Dewpaw. She’s training to be a healer, like how I was training to be a warrior.” His sister stiffened at his words, but he quickly held up his tail to hush her. “It was the only way I could get Yellowfang to agree to help. And I promise that Dewpaw is much nicer than her mentor. She’s about our age, and she’s very understanding.”

Princess stared down at her paws for a moment before finally nodding almost imperceptibly. “Okay. If you believe it’s for the best, I believe you.”

“I do.” He nuzzled her once more and bounded back up to the top of the fence. “You two can come out now.”

The healers came out from the bushes warily before they scrambled over the top of the fence, evidently not quite used to having to make such high leaps. As they all dropped down into the garden, Dewpaw looked around with wonder. “There’s so many herbs here! And- is that catmint?” She gasped as she caught sight of a frosted, bushy plant. “Yellowfang-”

“Hush, child.” Yellowfang murmured. “If his sister allows it, perhaps we can harvest some to take back with us. But we have a job to do first.”

Princess’ green eyes were wide as she stared at the two new wild cats. “You’re Fireheart’s friends?” She asked cautiously, though she didn’t move away as they approached. 

“His Clanmates, yes.” Yellowfang replied, though he could tell she was holding back the barbs she would normally have used in response to being called his ‘friend’. “My name is Yellowfang. I am responsible for healing all manner of ailments in our Clan, both mental and physical.” She drew Dewpaw closer with her tail. “This is my apprentice, Dewpaw. She is learning to do the same from me. She is here solely to observe, and will only speak if you ask her to.”

The little apprentice sat primly beside the grizzled old healer and nodded to affirm her words, though didn’t speak as though she were sitting vigil. “Uh- Thank you, Yellowfang, Dewpaw.” His sister mewed, though he could tell she was still wary of them as she glanced at Fireheart. “Did- did my brother tell you everything?”

“He told us enough.” Yellowfang responded as she also sat down beside her apprentice. “But whatever you feel comfortable sharing with me is up to you. We are here to help you, whatever you think that might entail.” 

The grizzled molly caught Fireheart moving close out of the corner of her eye, and turned to give him a surprisingly dirty glare. “Why don’t you go run off and do whatever it is you warriors do when you’re not bothering us?” She growled at him. “Go chase mice, or whatever. Don’t worry; we’ll take care of your sister.”

He hesitated, glancing to his sister for her approval, but she gave him a quick nod. He had to trust that Yellowfang would treat her well. “Alright. I’ll be hunting nearby; you can yowl if you need me.” With that, he jumped to the top of the fence separating the Twolegplace and the forest, taking one last look behind him at the three mollies. They were huddled close together, murmuring softly, and as he watched Yellowfang gently cleaned one of his sister’s ears while she leaned into it. The simple act made him smile, and with more confidence he bounded off into the forest, looking to return to camp laden with prey.

He didn’t return to camp until just before sunhigh, carrying a cardinal and a mouse that he had managed to catch on the way back. Though Tigerclaw glared as he walked by, the deputy said nothing as he put his prey where the freshkill pile would be. Most of the prey had been distributed out for sharing tongues; as he looked up, he could see most cats clustered around the fringes of camp, including two familiar mollies sharing a robin.

He bounded over, the anxiety he’d felt leaving Princess alone with the healers suddenly welling up once more. Just as he stopped in front of Yellowfang, mouth open to issue a greeting, she held up a paw to stop him. “I already know what you’re going to ask.” She rasped at him, swiping her tongue around her mouth to collect some stray flecks of prey. “And I can’t answer anything. If you want to know what happened, you’ll have to ask her yourself.”

“Maybe I was just going to say hello.” Fireheart retorted.  “But I understand. I just want to know one thing: Did you help her?”

The old healer regarded him for a long moment. “Yes.” She answered at last. “We did.”

“That’s all I care about.” The warrior mewed with a dip of his head. “Thank you, both of you. For- for everything.”

Yellowfang shrugged in response. “We’re healers. It’s what we do. Besides, I wasn’t going to leave a young molly like her in distress. I know it’s a hard position to be in, even without being a season-cycle or so old.” 

He perked his ears at that, but before he could ask more she chuffed in amusement. “Why, we should be thanking her! She let us take some catmint when we left, and while it’s old it’s still fresher than the stores Spottedleaf left me.”

He tilted his head in confusion. “Dewpaw mentioned it too. Why is catmint so important?” Nearly every kittypet’s garden had had some, and while it was a wonderful smelling plant, he couldn’t imagine that was why the healers seemed to regard it so highly.

“It’s very rare in Clan territory, but it’s also one of the best cures for greencough.” Yellowfang glanced at her apprentice with a wry smirk. “And unlike firefern and suncough, both are most definitely real. Most leafbares will bring a couple of cases of greencough, but I witnessed one leafbare where nearly a dozen cats caught it. Nearly all of them died.” She shook her head mournfully. “The fresher the catmint, the more likely it will treat it. Perhaps this leafbare we’ll get lucky.”

“That’s good to hear.” He looked up to see Peppermask and Graystripe sharing the cardinal he’d caught. “I’ll leave you two to eat in peace, but I- if you need anything from me, just let me know. I appreciate what you did.”

The old healer rolled her eyes. “Yes, for this and everything else, I’m sure.” She flicked her tail dismissively. “Go on, then. Let us enjoy our meal. Surely you can find someone else to share tongues with for sunhigh.”

He gave her one last appreciative nod before turning and bounding over to where his warrior friends were sitting. “I hope you don’t mind sharing.” He mewed as he settled down besides Graystripe, giving the tom a bump with his shoulder.

“Only if you tell us what you were talking with Yellowfang about.” Peppermask mewed, her ears perked curiously. “Did something happen while you were out hunting?”

He hesitated. Part of him wanted to tell them the truth, but he feared how they might react. Besides, what had happened was just one time; never again would the Clan need to know that he was talking to his kittypet sister. “I found some catmint out on patrol.” He mewed, careful not to lie entirely, though certainly not telling the whole truth. “I remembered Dewpaw talking about it one time. I just wanted to know if it was useful, that’s all.”

The side-eye Peppermask gave him told him she certainly didn’t believe him, at least not entirely, but she nodded slowly all the same. “Helpful as always, aren’t you?” She mewed at last as Graystripe nudged the cardinal slightly towards him. “Was it useful, then?”

“It was! Yellowfang told me about how it’s used to treat greencough in leafbare.” He mewed, before taking a carefully timed bite. 

“Greencough.” Peppermask’s face dropped at the mention of the sickness. “You weren’t here for it, but it killed many in the Clan last leafbare. Between that and the Great Hunger, it devastated the Clan. So many cats died.” She shook her head slowly. “Still, if you found a cure for it out on patrol, that’s a good thing. Maybe it means we won’t suffer so much this season-cycle.”

“I did. Yellowfang said it wasn’t as fresh as she wanted, but it was still better than nothing.” Fireheart mewed, hoping she could hear the honesty in his voice. “Did anyone you know die?” He asked softly, touching his nose to her cheek for comfort.

“It never spread to the nursery, thanks to Spottedleaf’s hard work.” The spotted molly replied slowly. “But many elders and senior warriors died. Swiftbreeze, our grandmother, was one of them.” She shook her head briefly. “It doesn’t matter much anymore. I’m just glad to hear that this leafbare might fare better than the last.”

“It will.” The ginger warrior mewed determinedly. As he pushed his worries about his sister to the back of his mind, confident in Yellowfang’s promise that she had helped Princess, he instead turned his thoughts towards the coming moon. Even with Tigerclaw’s plotting, he would do his best to help the Clan survive the frigid grasp of leafbare. He just hoped that Starclan wouldn’t give them too many challenges, and that the deputy’s inevitable betrayal didn’t come before they could stop him.

[iheartnimbassacity]

[A video, it begins with Dave sitting on the ground of what looks to be a hotel room, slightly disheveled and, even with his mask on, dark eyebags can be seen under his grey eyes.

"Its on? Its on. Uhm, hello! I am Dave Amaryllis." The man waves at the camera, "I was talkin about this earlier, but I may as well show how it. The little shiny fellow, how I'm gettin him to eat." He leans behind the camera, grabbing a Pokeball. With a flash, a shiny Joltik pops out of the ball, but with no other movement.

"Still freaks me out, how he don't move. Ok, not the point, here lemmie…" Dave sets down a small battery. A regular smaller joltik comes from off screen to investigate, but it gets pushed away gently, "Not for you, I gave you a treat earlier." He chides the Joltik, before focusing back on the shiny one. It still isn't moving, only squeaking at the battery.

"If I just say," Dave gets closer to the shiny, "Hey buddy, you can eat, its ok." His voice softens, talking to the spider. Yet, it still only hesitantly moves foward, "It barley moves. But if I command it, Joltik, eat this." The Joltik immediately moves, with no hesitation, to the battery, and sparks come from it.

Dave makes an audible sigh, "This poor guy. Quincy, you can turn it off." The video ends.]

video says it all

[cardinal-contest-king]

You know, if your roserade ever warms up to you, maybe it would be able to help take care of that berry, being a grass type and all?

Yeah, that's true! I hope she likes me sooner rather than later.. she's real pretty, and really should be able to just.. relax. I don't think she hated me for no reason. She was always.. tense. And on guard. I can tell she's been hurt before... so maybe gardening will help her out too?

[zooted-jax]

(it’s me, the anon that gave you the 1 winged bat in the first place)

Some person was abusing the poor thing so I saved the little guys, the person tore its wing off, the poor thing is in so much pain I trust you with him, keep him safe, this is why I gave you the bat in the first place

*He looks uncomfortable and worried, both more for Coffee the bat and you yourself.*

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

What’s That Saying About Cinnamon Rolls. . ?

(Disclaimer: only two of the characters in this story belong to me. I’ve recently made a sister for my dear cannibal boi, and this is my first story involving her, so go here for context. If you’ve read my stuff, then you’ve probably gotten to know the aforementioned cannibal boi by now, but just in case, go here to learn more about him. And if you’d like to learn more about the mob that these two work for, go here. )

(Much appreciation to @sammys-magical-au for not only allowing me to have their very own Louise Editor—go  here and here for more information about her—make a cameo, but also for helping me come up with a name for the mob that I plan to grow and write much, much more about in the future!)

(Also, just to clarify: I don’t really have a timeline set up, but this story takes place before my other stories involving Caliban.)

(Trigger Warnings: murder/death, poisoning/descriptions of toxic chemicals, blood, descriptions of illegal business, implied animal abuse, descriptions of eating, slight mentions of cravings/hunger pangs, implied cannibalism, mentions of past abuse, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

The chatter of patrons and the miscellaneous clinks of silverware greeted Azalea like old friends as she pushed the kitchen’s aluminum door open. She maneuvered around tables, nodding to the waitstaff as she passed by. The customers paid her no mind; after all, she was just another employee going about the daily grind, wasn’t she?

Aftertaste was by no means a cramped establishment. Despite this, it wasn’t at all uncommon for the restaurant to get very crowded, considering how good the food was. Fortunately, the building had come equipped with two staircases.

Azalea soon found herself ascending the first, which was located in the main dining room. (The second one was in the kitchen, leading down to one of many old subway office-platforms, hidden behind a false wall that only she and a select few other staff members knew about.)

The second floor boasted a smaller-scale room (which, admittedly, hadn’t been used at all before the building fell into The Boss’ possession). Shortly after she’d been put in charge of this restaurant, Azalea had tidied up the second floor and included it in advertisements; since it was sequestered from Aftertaste’s typical hustle and bustle, it could be reserved for private parties and the like.

On certain occasions, it could also be used for more. . .important matters.

At the top of the stairs, a door was waiting patiently for her. Azalea gave a foreshadowing knock, then slipped across the threshold and closed the door as quickly as she’d opened it.

A lone figure sat at a table in the corner; a bit of a local superstar, to be more precise, with a head of perfectly-gelled black hair and eyeliner sharp enough to rival some of the knives in the kitchen. Azalea had seen this person’s photograph on posters around the city, advertising drag races at the clubs downtown and queen storytimes at the bookstores uptown. She gazed at Azalea with wide, dark eyes, clearly startled by her sudden entrance.

“Ah, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Azalea offered a small wave as she approached the table. “Have you been enjoying your order?”

The drag queen shook off her surprise with impressive speed.

“Yes, thank you,” she murmured, revealing a thick Portuguese accent. The wine she’d requested earlier swirled as she gently shifted the glass in her hand. Less than half of a serving of tiramisu remained on the plate in front of her. “I think I’ll need your catering for one of my events sometime.”

“You’re too kind,” Azalea replied. Slyness crept into her calm smile as she took a seat on the opposite end of the queen’s table. “But I was told you have some different business to discuss. So, for now, let’s focus on that.”

Azalea couldn’t be sure what this queen had heard or where she’d heard it. However, that didn’t matter quite yet. What mattered was that, according to one of her in-the-know employees, she’d carefully used some distinct wording when she’d made the call to reserve the entire second floor, when she’d asked to speak with Azalea in private.

She obviously wasn’t just another customer.

She was a potential client.

The queen stared at Azalea for a long, tense moment. The anxiety in her eyes was clear as crystal, but that didn’t take away from just how determined her expression was. She sighed and nodded, fishing through the purse that was hanging on her chair to produce a small folder. She then reached across the table, offering it to Azalea.

“I’ve tried less extreme options, but nothing has worked. Nobody is willing to take this issue seriously,” she declared as her host opened the folder, uncovering several photographs that came in varying degrees of quality. “Name your price, and I’ll pay it. . .”

___

Azalea parked her car near the entrance of the cul-de-sac, right around the street corner. Not too far from her destination, but not too close, either. True, there were only a couple other houses near the one she needed to enter (this was one of those oddly spacious neighborhoods), but she wasn’t about to test just how nosey her target’s neighbors were. She moved quickly and quietly as she approached one of the larger houses, holding a small black box close to her chest.

There was no such thing as a perfect place. Every city, no matter the population or location, had its issues. The severity of those issues depended on who you asked. When it came to the Cove Port Inlets, basic criminal activity wasn’t too prevalent. But then, that was just on the surface level (figuratively and literally).

Despite its underground reputation, The Pentas Family was well-camouflaged among the more legal aspects of the Inlets. Rumors did trickle through, of course, but they were easy to manage. In fact, sometimes rumors were even welcomed: not only could they alert the mob’s representatives to potential threats, but they could occasionally pave the way for those representatives to take on a job.

As she grew closer, Azalea noticed how blinds had been twisted shut on the other side of the front windows. There was no light peeking through the aforementioned blinds. To the average person, this would’ve been a sign that the house was empty. Azalea, however, was undeterred. She knew someone was home, and she knew that they were expecting a visitor.

She climbed up a small set of concrete stairs, coming to a halt at the front door. She knocked three times, then took a step back and waited, drumming her nails on top of her cargo. A couple moments dragged by before the door creaked open, revealing her latest target on the other side.

“Good timing. I was starting to think your boss was just giving me the runaround,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. 

Azalea had known who this man was before her current client had hired her. Hell, she (and her associates) probably knew more about him than most of the people he was actually familiar with. But she didn’t bother thinking of his name.

Like the majority of people, he was much taller than Azalea (who, even with heels on, was quite petite). And like so many before him, he immediately made a show of looking down at her. 

In the back of her mind, Azalea added this to the pile of mistakes the target had already made.

“We don’t do things halfway around here,” Azalea answered. Though she smiled politely, the look in her eyes made it clear that she was neither intimidated nor amused. “And I know we weren’t giving off the wrong vibes when you first came to see us.”

Calling hit-jobs complex would be an understatement. Although word spread fast along the illicit grapevine, clients could still have some level of control over what information contract killers had on their targets. Disturbingly high salaries (and disregard for morals) aside, one could not simply kill another person without knowing anything about them. If someone was willing to pay for a death, there always had to be a reason or two for it. . .

The target hummed at this, ever-so-slightly furrowing his brow. “Well, your boss didn’t give off the vibe of someone who’d have some half-pint running her deals for her.”

. . .Not that that was a problem right now. There were more than enough reasons for Azalea to complete tonight’s job.

“First of all, I was in the same room as you during your meeting with The Boss; unless it’s for something very personal, she always includes us in decision-making. I can get why you might not have noticed me, but it’s still not my fault if you aren’t as observative as you think you are,” Azalea retorted, raising an eyebrow. “Second of all, we rotate between these kinds of assignments, because that’s how things actually get accomplished. And third of all: who the hell are you calling a half-pint? I’ve been in the business probably five times longer than you have.”

“Well, if part of your ‘assignment’ is to convince me of something, then you aren’t doing a very bang-up job,” the target sneered.

Azalea barked a laugh. “You think I’m the one who needs to be convincing here? You seemed pretty damn desperate during your first elevator pitch with us.”

The target responded to this by leaning forward and glowering in a very unpleasant way. He was dangerously close to getting in Azalea’s face, but she defied yet another one of his expectations by not flinching at all.

“Look,” Azalea said pointedly, signaling just how thin her patience was wearing. “The Boss sent me because she’s thinking of giving this another chance. But if you’d rather just throw that chance away. . .”

The uncomfortable starting contest continued for a few more seconds. Azalea immediately noticed a spark of panic mixing into the target’s anger. He knew he was about to screw himself out of something he wanted a second time. He knew she was right, that she had the upper-hand here, and he was furious about it.

(And knowing that really helped to calm Azalea’s frustration.)

Eventually, the target moved to the side, closing the door behind Azalea as she strolled in. He then quietly led her through the house, and while she followed along, she subtly scanned this new environment. A few lights were on in the nearby rooms, so her eyes adjusted quickly.

This place offered several indicators that the target was rather well-off; plenty of furniture, various expensive-looking knicknacks strewn about, and the size of the house in general. However, none of that changed the fact that this place was also kind of a pigsty. 

Stains dotted the carpet here and there (some were at least semi-cleaned, while others had simply been hidden in a way that just made them more obvious). There were also strange indents along the edges of the walls (a few of which were clearly scratch marks that obviously hadn’t been produced by a human).

Soon, the two of them came upon what Azalea assumed was the dining room table. The target took a seat at the end, motioning for Azalea to follow suit. Once she settled down on one of the chairs, she placed the black box on the tabletop and pushed it closer to the target. Getting the message, the target reached out and lifted the lid to reveal a small assembly of cinnamon rolls.

His features were etched with a look of surprise. He glanced at Azalea curiously. “. . .What’s this supposed to be?”

“A peace-offering,” Azalea announced, lying straight through her teeth. “We might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, but that shouldn’t have to affect business.”

The target’s eyes grew wider, tension quickly draining away to be replaced with more ignorant assumptions. “That’s awfully kind of you.” With that, he fished one of the cinnamon rolls out of the box and took a bite.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Azalea had to stifle a laugh as she watched the target make two more mistakes. She leaned back in the chair, a timer starting in her head, careful to keep her expression neutral.

“So,” the target pronounced, his voice semi-muffled by the treat. “You guys are finally opening negotiations?”

“We might be.” Azalea shrugged. “Might. There’s been a lot of stuff on our plate lately, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“I get that,” the target chuckled. “Sometimes you’ve just gotta be picky, right?”

“Right.” Azalea nodded, smirking at the irony.

The Pentas Family wasn’t the only mob the Inlets had to offer (though it often seemed to be the only mob whose members actually knew what they were doing). There were a couple embarrassing street gangs here and there, but they never lasted very long. A few lone thugs wandered into the area, but they tended to have a bad habit of vanishing without a trace.

It was rare for another actual crime family to try and compete.

Rare, but not impossible.

“This is delicious, by the way,” the target admitted, having gone through more than half of the cinnamon roll in his hand. “Did you make these?”

“Yeah, I did. They were fresh out of the oven before I made my way over here, ” Azalea beamed. “When The Boss organized her turf, she ended up assigning me to Aftertaste. So, I had to act accordingly.”

(For the record, she knew the target was only being more polite because of the deal he thought was at stake. But she also knew that she was one of the best chefs in town, and there was no shame in taking praise for that.)

“Well, I hope you know that baked goods won’t be the most sufficient payment.” Surprise soon left the target’s expression. After he swallowed the last bite of the cinnamon roll, his smile became condescending once again. “If your family actually gets around to starting this partnership, that is.”

“You and your guys weren’t exactly invited to this area,” Azalea deadpanned. “You can’t blame us for not accepting your offers right off the bat.”

The target rolled his eyes. “Rumor has it that your crew has already entered an alliance with someone else. So we figured asking you to work with us would be doing you a favor on top of that.”

Azalea folded her arms across her chest. “Whether or not we’ve already got allies isn’t the point. The point is that our business doesn’t correlate with yours, and if that’s not enough of a hint, then nothing is. The only reason The Boss is considering changing her mind is because she’s a lot more mature than most people with power.”

“Since when does correlation matter?” The target pressed. “There’s strength in numbers, and our respective trades are both lucrative as all hell. Shouldn’t that be what matters here?”

Azalea raised her eyebrows at him. The target was acting just as entitled as he had been during that last-minute meeting a few weeks ago. Azalea had been sure that The Boss would’ve just assigned her or Murdock or one of The Pentas Family’s other representatives to bump him off. The fact that Azalea’s client had come complaining about the target’s business practices so soon afterwards was just a lucky coincidence.

“You’ve said so before,” Azalea eventually sighed. “That your little hustle is worth all the risks it comes with. You’ve said it, but you haven’t really done much to prove it.”

She reminded herself that the timer was still ticking. She’d only have to deal with this guy for five more minutes or so. She just had to keep an eye out for the signs.

“You think I’d be so insistent on negotiating if I didn’t have the goods to show for it?” The target scoffed, clearly frustrated at how Azalea had called him out so blatantly. He was probably trying to convince himself that, somehow, she still didn’t actually know what she was talking about. “I’m not like the dumbass wannabes you’re used to. I’ve got more than enough proof of what my deal could do for your posse.”

Azalea leaned forward, tilting her head to the side in a challenging manner. “Then let’s see that proof.”

The target pursed his lips before nodding. He rose from his seat, breaking eye-contact so quickly that it was obviously on purpose. Azalea got up, once again trailing him as he retreated further into the house. 

He led her down one hallway to a door that boasted a comical number of locks. After the target disengaged said locks, he pulled the door open to unveil a staircase, which he and Azalea quietly descended (Azalea made sure to stay behind him).

It took no time at all for the stench to punch Azalea in the face. She didn’t stop moving forward. At least, not until she and the target reached the foot of the stairs.

There was no carpeting to cover the concrete floor, and many of the walls were bare and without insulation. Despite being so unfinished, the target’s basement was roomy. Almost as roomy as The Pentas Family’s dens in the abandoned subway tunnels. And the target had definitely taken advantage of that space.

Several cages were scattered about, coming in a variety of sizes, materials. . .and contents. Many of the creatures being contained obviously hadn’t been born in the States. The noise they made wasn’t so cacophonous as it was depressing.They shuffled behind bars, cowering back, attempting to cover their eyes. They were all obviously cramped and in pain.

“Well?” The target asked smugly. “How’s all this for proof?”

“It’s. . .more than I expected,” Azalea answered honestly. She took a few subtle deep breaths, feeling her fingernails dig into her palms.

Among the many types of illegal business, exotic animal trafficking had never been very respected. Oh sure, you could make a fortune off of selling something that should either be out in the wild or in a zoo, but it was never as simple as that. It caused too many problems for the payoff to really be worth it. Especially since the clientele for that particular trade was frequently composed of rich assholes who wouldn’t know responsibility if it jumped up and went for their jugulars.

Azalea glanced at the target. Her anger cooled down a bit as she noticed beads of sweat collecting on his brow at a suspiciously fast rate.

“How exactly is this going to work?” Azalea inquired, gesturing towards the cages. She didn’t need (or want) to know, but now that the target was officially where she wanted him, she had to keep him distracted.

“That depends on my clients, really.” The target shrugged. The movement seemed casual, but Azalea could instantly tell that he was a bit shakier than he had been before. “Most of ‘em typically want a pelt, though I have gotten orders for complete taxidermy before. And that’s not even mentioning the crackpots who think blood or feathers or bone marrow or what-the-fuck-ever can cure diseases.”

“Oh, really? I always thought some people just wanted a special pet to brag about.”

“No, I do occasionally sell live specimens,” the target explained. He paused to clear his throat before continuing. “But it’s uncommon for most animals to actually make it this far. I guess some of the ones in this batch are just tougher than what I’m used to.”

His lip curled into a cruel smile, though it was wavering. His eyes glistened, suddenly looking very puffy and red around the edges. Confusion briefly crossed his features, along with anxiety that he attempted to hide.

Azalea blinked innocently, acting as though she hadn’t been carefully watching the target up until now. “Is everything alright? It looks like something’s bothering you.”

“Ah, no. I-I’m fine,” the target stammered, raising a hand to knead at his forehead. “Business just. . .takes a lot out of you, right?”

Azalea hummed, nodding in a way that was understanding but not at all sympathetic. “Well, I appreciate you taking the time for this little visit. But I still don’t think we’ll be able to open negotiations.”

The target did a neck-snapping double-take. “W-what?”

“You heard me. I’m not convinced that my family should start working with you. And if The Boss were here, I doubt she’d be convinced, either.”

“Why?” The target’s voice was louder than he’d probably wanted it to be. Azalea wasn’t sure if that’d been caused by his arrogant temper or the side-effects. “I’ve already told your boss about the prices that can be expected! You literally just asked to see what I had in store! How the fuck can you not see the benefits here?”

“Like I said before: our businesses aren’t compatible,” Azalea replied tersely. “We made that very clear the first time you tried making a deal. But apparently you thought screwing around in The Boss’ territory would somehow sway her opinion.”

The target sputtered at this, grinding his teeth as his face contorted into a furious scowl. He made to say something else—well, he was probably just going to start spewing insults—but Azalea cut him off via shaking her head.

“See, that’s another reason why my family doesn’t want anything from your group. You just can’t be professional.” Azalea paused, glancing at the cages again. “Besides, you guys only specialize in your trade, and the performance is sloppy at best. My family is all about variety; no two of us carry out business the same way.”

The target blinked, then barked a mirthless, disbelieving laugh. “Your boss just took ‘expect the unexpected’ and ran with it? Is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Azalea grinned. The target must’ve gotten so worked up that he didn’t even realize how hoarse his voice had gotten, how close he was to slurring his words. “I really don’t understand why so many people don’t have faith in that kind of work. I mean, you didn’t hesitate to eat from that little box I brought. . .”

The target froze in place. His eyes bulged from their sockets, his mouth gaped open like a suffocating fish. 

Then, as if on cue, he doubled over, clearly not having expected whatever pain he was now feeling. His breathing became ragged, his body as a whole shuddered in an odd way. He let out a strangled gasp; when he tried to straighten his posture, he went sprawling to the floor, his hands not instinctively flying out to break his fall like they should have.

The convulsions grew steadily stronger. The target’s efforts to regain his balance were obvious, but it seemed like some invisible force was pinning him down.

“No one would ever expect batrachotoxin to have a sweet flavor,” Azalea pronounced. “I mean, I certainly didn’t at first, but research proves otherwise.”

She took a few steps closer, now looming over the man who’d towered over her just a moment ago. The target was coughing and choking now, blood-tinged mucus leaking out of his mouth. The veins in his neck were now distended in an awful way, more or less threatening to literally pop out of his skin.

“What was that you said earlier?” She asked. “Something about being a dumbass wannabe?”

Her tone wasn’t low or dangerous. Rather, it remained as chipper and casual as it had been for most of this interaction. And that automatically made her more terrifying than she’d been given credit for.

As he was no longer capable of speaking coherently, the target could do nothing but gawk in total horror. For good measure, Azalea didn’t stop staring down at him until his watery eyes eventually rolled back into his head. He still had yet to go completely limp—some of his joints kept twitching—but there was no saving him now.

Azalea lightly shook her head, fished her cellphone out of her pocket. She tapped at the screen, making sure for probably the thousandth time now that her conversations, whether by text or call, were shielded. The Boss had pulled a helluva lot of strings to ensure that those working for her wouldn’t have to worry about being recorded, but it never hurt to double-check.

Once she was satisfied, Azalea dialed a certain number, then held the device to her ear.

The phone had barely started ringing when someone on the other end picked up, though there was silence for a good five seconds or so.

“. . .Is it done?” Inquired a familiar voice.

“Sure is,” Azalea stated, figuring her client had just been bracing herself. She couldn’t really blame said client for needing to do so, considering what she was calling about.

“Good.” The client sighed. Surprisingly enough, her apparent nervousness didn’t seem to overshadow the relief in her tone. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it to happen so quickly.”

Azalea chuckled. “We try our best to be efficient.”

“Are there any animals in the house?”

“Yes, quite a few. I had to bide my time to make sure the poison properly took effect. So, I goaded him into showing me where he’s been keeping them,” Azalea explained. “Why do you ask?”

“You said that some of your colleagues would come by once the job was done. Would they be adverse to. . .picking up those animals?”

“Well, that depends: what exactly do you expect the cleanup crew to do with them?” Azalea asked, both curious and suspicious.

“I was hoping they could be taken to Wild Things Rescue. I have connections to that place.” The client explained, meaning the endangered species sanctuary on the northside of town. Then, probably having remembered how she’d been sworn to secrecy, she hurriedly added, “A-and I can make sure that the employees won’t find out about my deal with you! All I’m asking is for the animals to be dropped off at the shelter; I’ll take care of the rest from there. I’m willing to pay more if I need to.”

“Whoa, slow down,” Azalea announced. “I don’t think an extra charge will be necessary.”

“You won’t have—wait, what?” The client had obviously been caught off guard. “Are—are you serious. . ?”

“I am.” Azalea paced around the dead man on the floor. “This guy already had a price on his head; your patronage just sweetened that deal. Besides, you didn’t skimp on the original fee. So, I might as well help you out one more time.” She looked over the caged creatures and felt her face drop. There were a couple panda cubs, a few wolf pups, a pangolin, and even a tiny white tiger. And that was just what the cages immediately in front of her had to offer. “Just because your heart’s in the right place.”

“Oh.” The client stayed quiet for a long moment.

Though Azalea didn’t have a problem with the client’s confused relief, she was still on the clock. Plus, awkward silences weren’t really her thing. “Cleanup’s already on their way, but I’ll bring ‘em up to speed once they’re here. They know this city inside-out, so they won’t have trouble getting to the sanctuary. Can you meet them there?”

The client cleared her throat. “Yes. Yes, I absolutely can.”

“Perfect. It’ll take them some time to erase everything here. You should be able to expect them within an hour or so.”

“I’ll be ready,” the client promised. And, despite being able to tell so much just from her voice, Azalea still couldn’t imagine the look in the client’s eyes when she said, “. . .Thank you. For everything.”

With that, a loud click sounded on the other end before the call went completely silent.

After Azalea returned her phone to her pocket, her eyes landed on a cage at the end of the row. Unlike all the others, it was empty, and its wire door hung open. Azalea took a closer look and quickly realized that the latch on the cage’s door was somewhat bent, as well as covered in scratches and grooves.

Something must have gnawed on that latch until it finally gave way. . .

Out of nowhere, the silence was broken by a series of shuffling noises. Automatically tense, Azalea gazed around the basement. She carefully reached into one of the pockets in her vest, wrapping her hand around a small syringe.

(An emergency dose of bullet ant venom. It was one of the very few things in her collection that wasn’t actually lethal, but having it in your system was agonizing enough to make you wish it was.)

She soon discovered a large hole in the wall to her left: an empty, unfinished door frame. Azalea chewed her lip, then maneuvered herself around the cages. The shuffling grew louder and louder as she came to hover in the frame.

This sideroom wasn’t much better than the rest of the basement. A desk had been positioned there, supporting a laptop and cluttered stacks of paper and folders. Beside it stood a tripod, complete with a large camera that was aimed at a white sheet on the floor. (This must have been how the target advertised the animals he trafficked. Once you had some quality photos of your wares, all you had to do was post them somewhere online and start taking bids.)

Across the room from this setup, a refrigerator stood in the corner. Its door hung ever-so-slightly ajar, allowing a strip of bright, artificial light to peek out. The sounds of something scratching against plastic echoed from within.

Azalea paused, chewing her lip. Now sure that she wouldn’t have to deal with one of the target’s cronies, she released her hold on the syringe

She inched towards the fridge, moving slowly and quietly. She didn’t plan on opening it all the way—her instincts just demanded that she get a look at whatever was inside.

Once the device was within touching distance, Azalea leaned down, craning her neck to peer through the crack in the door. She soon came to the conclusion that maybe her instincts should’ve just screwed off this one time.

A pale blur erupted out of the fridge, accompanied by a loud, gravelly hiss. Azalea let out a small scream and staggered back, nearly losing her balance. While catching her breath, she watched the creature dart away from her, soon backing into the opposite corner, still hissing as it thumped one of its hind legs against the floor.

Now that it was standing still, Azalea could see this thing for what it was: a hare (admittedly, she’d thought it was a rabbit at first, but then she remembered the differences between them).

Its fur was white. Azalea immediately thought it had to be one of those arctic species, but as she continued examining it, she realized that wasn’t the case. The tips of the hare’s long ears lacked black spots. Azalea’s mind went to albinism, but that couldn’t be right either. The hare’s eyes weren’t pink—their hue looked like a combination of hazel and gold. Like deep, dark amber.

Azalea knew there was another mutation that made animals white when they probably weren’t meant to be, but she couldn’t start racking her brain for the exact term.

Because by now, she’d finally noticed how the fur around the hare’s mouth and forepaws was stained red.

She glanced back at the fridge. Now that the door was wide open, she had a perfect view of all the packages lining the shelves. They each contained varying cuts of raw meat; probably what the target had been using to feed those animals. One of them was laying on the floor—it must have fallen out when Azalea startled the hare. The plastic wrap had clearly been torn open by small teeth, leaving the ground beef inside partially uncovered.

“I didn’t know you guys could eat meat,” Azalea said as she put two and two together. She had no idea why she’d just decided to start talking to the hare. It wasn’t like it could answer her. “. . .Are you hungry?”

And what kind of question was that? Of course the hare was hungry. Why else would it have climbed into a refrigerator to eat some raw meat?

Azalea lightly shook her head, attempting to calm those nagging questions. She worked for a mob full of contract-killers. This was pretty normal compared to some of the stuff she’d done before.

She stooped down to pick up the package. She saw how the hare’s eyes followed the ground beef, wide and hopeful. But as she took a step forward, its ears flattened as it let out a strange, high-pitched growl.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Azalea called softly. She held out her free hand in a calm gesture. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” After that, she plucked a piece of meat from the package and lightly tossed it forward. It landed in front of the hare, who hesitated before wolfing it down.

The hare immediately went back to staring and hissing at Azalea, but that didn’t deter her. She kept sending little bits of ground beef the hare’s way, slowly moving towards it all the while.

Sooner or later, she slowly lowered herself into a sitting position beside the hare. She took yet another chunk of ground beef into the palm of her hand, and then rested that hand on the floor.

The hare warily looked back and forth between her and the offering. Eventually, it claimed the treat—its little teeth nicked the skin of Azalea’s palm, but she stayed still. The hare probably hadn’t meant to bite her; now that she was so much closer to it, Azalea could see just how badly it was shaking.

It wouldn’t have taken a genius to guess that a person who trafficked animals wouldn’t care enough about said animals to treat them properly, but watching the hare shiver and hesitate. . .

It wasn’t just malnourished. It was afraid.

It hadn’t just been underfed. It had been abused.

And just like that, Azalea finally realized why this seemingly random animal had struck such a chord with her. Oh sure, she’d always been an animal-lover, but the hare specifically reminded her of someone.

Someone who she’d grown up with.

Someone who, like her, had been the subject of cruelty for the majority of his childhood.

Someone whose developing appetite had made the neglect he’d experienced so much worse.

Someone she’d smuggled food to whenever she’d gotten the chance. . .

Azalea felt her eyes start to burn. She swallowed a lump in her throat, blinking back tears as she quietly set the package down in front of the hare. This time, the hare didn’t hold back. It attacked the ground beef with newfound vigor, its little teeth audibly snapping.

Despite the painful memories now circulating through her head, Azalea chortled at the sight. “You’re kind of like a little snare-trap, huh?”

Another couple minutes dragged by before Azalea raised a hand and cautiously pushed it toward the hare.

The hare froze mid-bite, jerking its head to stare up at her, its amber eyes still full of stress. Azalea kept her movement even as her fingertips brushed the hare’s soft, white fur.

The hare flinched, but it didn’t try to run off like she’d expected.

Azalea repeated that action, slowly but surely stroking the hare’s back. Sooner or later, the hare went back to eating. It didn’t resist the petting, didn’t hiss, didn’t try to bite Azalea.

Time just seemed to slow down as Azalea sat there, watching the hare, hoping that comforting it would make the horrible ache in her heart go away.

She was so busy calming herself down that she almost didn’t notice how the hare had suddenly abandoned its meal in favor of sidling up to her, leaning into her touch.

It reared back on its hind legs and braced its paws against her shoulder, then proceeded to push its muzzle against her neck. It wasn’t shaking anymore.

With her eyebrows now on a collision course for Mars, Azalea gently gathered the hare up in her arms, being as delicate as humanly possible. The hare didn’t resist this, and she felt a delighted smile materialize on her face.

She knew she couldn’t keep the hare. It wasn’t like The Boss prohibited her associates from having pets, but Azalea already owned Cuddles. She simply didn’t have enough time or space for another animal.

And in spite of that, Azalea had already made up her mind. It didn’t matter how accidental this encounter was. It didn’t matter how ridiculous it was for her to adopt an animal that just so happened to be in the place where she’d killed a person no more than ten minutes ago.

“I think I might have a friend for you,” Azalea told the hare, her smile growing wider.

The hare, of course, didn’t respond. But the way it tilted its head at Azalea’s words was encouraging enough.

___

Azalea may have loved decorating as much as the next gal, but after she’d cleaned all the old junk out of her secret underground den, she just hadn’t really felt the need to embellish it beyond the necessities.

To the right of the concrete passageway, a huge storage cabinet took up space against the wall. Similarly to one or two of the cupboards in Aftertaste’s kitchen, it was full to bursting with bottles and jars that came in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors.

The only difference was that the stuff in these containers couldn’t be used in cooking unless Azalea planned to kill someone. (Which, to be fair, was a scenario she found herself in quite regularly.) A few boxes could be found at the bottom of the cabinet; they stored things like syringes and transportation vials.

Right next to the poison cabinet was a mahogany bookcase. Its shelves were inhabited by various chronicles about cooking, baking, hazardous chemicals and how they affected the human body, stuff like that.

She’d also brought a couple tables down here. One was in the corner, currently supporting Cuddles’ terrarium and heat-lamp. The other was in the center of the room (along with a couple chairs), a base for harvesting, or experimenting, or whatever Azalea found herself needing to do when it came to working with poisons.

Right now that table would’ve been completely vacant, if not for the hare, who was currently trying to pace around on it in order to get a better view of this new environment.

“Hey, c’mon. Can’t you hold still for a few more seconds?” Azalea asked, gently keeping the hare in place. 

She’d taken one of the hand towels from the restaurant’s kitchen and soaked it in warm water. She was now using it to carefully scrub at the hare’s fur, cleaning off the blood that had been caked around his mouth and paws. For the most part, the red stains had disappeared. There were just a few more specks left, but the hare apparently thought he’d stayed in one spot long enough.

Cuddles, who was loosely coiled around Azalea’s neck, ever-so-slightly leaned toward the hare, angling her head curiously. Her forked tongue flicked in and out of her mouth like a party favor. The hare returned Cuddles’ gaze, his twitching nose somehow adding to the strangely thoughtful look in his eyes.

Azalea knew it usually wasn’t the best idea to have a snake in the same room with a small mammal. However, that didn’t change the fact that scarlet kingsnakes only grew big enough to be a danger to things like mice. Besides, Cuddles wasn’t nearly as aggressive as most people with ophidiophobia would probably suggest

“You must be pretty excited, huh?” Azalea asked the hare. “I don’t blame you—just wait until you see your actual new home.”

Make sure you have a Plan B, chided a voice in Azalea’s head. There’s still a chance that this won’t work out the way you’re hoping.

Azalea had to bite back a sigh at the thought. Logically speaking, she knew she couldn’t really expect Caliban to just randomly take a new pet home tonight. Especially since she hadn’t mentioned a potential new pet in the text she’d sent him ten minutes ago.

She knew he was on his way here, and that made her simultaneously eager and anxious.

Even so, she still had a good feeling about her plan. She knew her brother better than anyone on planet Earth; hell, he’d said that himself on more than one occasion.

Almost immediately after Azalea had finally restored the hare’s fur to its pure white hue, the door across the room lightly shook as knuckles rapped against it on the other side.

“Speak of the devil,” she murmured, rising from her chair.

Just to be sure, Azalea took a quick peek through the window at the platform outside. After that, she stood before the door, her hand on the knob. “Who is it?”

“It’s the pizza guy,” replied a voice that was as familiar as it was muffled, both lighthearted and sarcastic. “Who do you think it is?”

Azalea pulled the door less than halfway open, poking her head through the crack. There her brother was, amusedly smiling down at her. The dim, flickering light of the abandoned platform shone against his red leather jacket.

“What’re you doing out so late?” Azalea greeted, smiling right back. “You know there’s crazy people down here, right?”

Caliban’s eyes grew wide as he put a hand on his heart in an elaborate mock gasp. “You’ve seen them, too? Don’t you realize how much danger you’re in?!”

The siblings burst out laughing like only self-aware lunatics who’d made their way in a life where murder was casual business could.  

“Anyway, what was with that message?” Caliban asked. “You’re only vague like that when you’re up to something.”

“Exactly.” Azalea hummed. “Would you prefer me telling you or showing you?”

“I mean, both would probably work.” Caliban moved forward, obviously expecting his sister to step aside. When she didn’t, he gave pause. “. . .Can I come in?”

“You can,” Azalea replied, “but you’ve gotta close your eyes first.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t want to spoil the surprise.” Azalea quickly glanced over her shoulder, making sure the hare was still on the table, then returned her focus to Caliban before he could try peeking inside.

Caliban blinked at this, raising an eyebrow. Azalea knew he trusted her, but she was just now remembering how his (and, admittedly, her) concept of surprises had become a bit warped over the recent years.

“Does this have anything to do with that job you were talking about yesterday?” Caliban inquired.

“. . .Kind of,” Azalea admitted before hurriedly clarifying, “Nothing went wrong! The target’s dead, I didn’t get hurt or caught, don’t worry!”

The anxiety that had started forming on her brother’s face was replaced by subtle relief. He gave her one more puzzled look before he nodded.

“Alright, then. Lead the way,” he sighed, closing his eyes.

Azalea snickered, taking one of Caliban’s hands in hers to carefully guide him into her den. Once they were both inside, she lightly kicked the door shut and brought Caliban over to the table. She gently pushed down on his shoulder, having him sit on her chair.

The hare wandered right up to them, peering back and forth between the siblings.

“Can I open my eyes now?” Caliban asked, his tone caught between amusement and concern.

“Almost, almost,” Azalea assured. “Just wait a little longer. . .” She couldn’t help but giggle as she watched the hare crane his neck to push his little face closer to Caliban’s, nose twitching adorably.

Caliban could obviously sense that something had entered his bubble, because he immediately began leaning back in the chair. “If whatever this is makes me fall and crack my head open, I swear to God—”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Azalea interjected. “Open ‘em up.”

Caliban’s eyes snapped open, and he very nearly jumped in his seat. The hare flinched back a bit, but he didn’t start hissing. That was a good sign.

Caliban’s shock was quickly replaced by confusion. He looked at his sister, then back at the hare. “Look, I don’t have a problem with bunnies, but I’m not sure if I want to know how or why this one got here.”

“Well, first of all, he’s a hare, you uncultured swine,” Azalea snorted. “And second of all, I didn’t just pick him up off the street. I found him at the target’s place.”

“. . .Are you saying he played a part in how that job went down?” Caliban asked, starting to chortle at how odd that sounded.

“No, not really. He might’ve wanted to, judging by how scared and hungry he was.”

That made her brother’s laughter come to an abrupt halt. The bewilderment was still very much present in his expression, but his eyes made it clear that a chord had been struck.

He cautiously raised a hand, glancing back at Azalea. 

“Is it okay if I. . ?”

“Yeah, go ahead!” Azalea beamed. “He really seems to like pets.”

Caliban nodded and held his palm towards the hare, who responded by taking a few seconds to check this new person’s scent. After that, he rubbed his little head against the offered hand, much like a cat.

Despite knowing the things her brother had done—and would likely continue doing for a long while—Azalea knew there was no denying how delightful it was to see his face light up. Slowly but surely, the hare shuffled closer to Caliban, clearly enjoying his attention.

“Not to be rude,” Caliban eventually pronounced, still petting the hare, “but you still haven’t really told me why you asked me to come over.”

“Right, right,” Azalea coughed. “Well, it’s kind of a long story. But for starters, when I saw this guy, I thought of you.” She reached over to scratch the hare’s ears. “He’s got some strange tastes—”

Caliban sputtered with humor, looking briefly shocked at being called out like that. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“—and he’s feisty when he needs to be. But he’s really nice once you get to know him.”

Her brother hummed at this. One part of his expression showed joking denial, but the other part was clearly touched by the sentiment.

“We both know how I can’t really feed you like the others,” Azalea continued, unable to stop herself from sounding a bit guilty.

Caliban caught onto that quickly, his eyes becoming slightly worried. “It’s not like I hold that against you. You know that, right? I mean, in all fairness, it’s better that you don’t give me any bodies. Because of the whole poison-is-your-trademark thing.”

Azalea softly laughed in agreement, but it didn’t do much to hide the fact that both she and Caliban were most definitely on the same train of thought right now. 

Before they’d joined The Pentas Family, before they’d even become adults, she’d been the one to care for him when he needed it the most. She’d been there for him every time he couldn’t sleep or got sick due to malnourishment, every time the end of a day saw him bruised and shaking. . .

Just as he’d been there for her whenever she’d experienced similar abuse.

On one hand, they’d both tried so hard to repress those memories, which they had every damn right to do. On the other hand, however, they both knew that they couldn’t afford to forget how they’d managed to survive.

“Aside from that,” Azalea mentioned, her voice growing softer, “I can imagine how lonely it might get around your place when R.D. has to travel for her projects. And since I’m so busy most of the time, I can only do so much to help with that.”

Caliban slowly nodded, biting his lip.

“So, I thought that maybe Snare could help keep you company. That’s his name, by the way. Snare.”

A few long seconds passed before Caliban echoed, “Snare. Snare the hare.” He paused, then let out a quiet chuckle. “I like that.”

@sammys-magical-au @the-matpat-ever  @callmegkiddo  @insane4fandoms  @inkangeliguess  @flamestar456  @forestcouncil   @slasher-smash  @themarpsimp   @neons-trash-blog  @ayoreneehere   @sw33tst4rs @butterboyfly @i-dont-like-it-here-please-help @dleep-deprivation-idk-jelp

[swarmishstrangers]

They tore out my fangs..but they only grew back stronger and sharper.

They will never be torn from me again.

[marcelshorjian]

[aftgficrec]

favourite fics featuring halloween? (thank you guys for all your work!)

Here are some spooktacular fics for you! You may notice we often point out where a fic has been recced before. If you like the theme or mood of a fic, chances are you will find more like it in the ask where it was featured. -A

previous recs:

Staff Recs Oct 2020 Halloween/Spookiness here

Staff Recs Oct 2021 - Halloween here

Staff Recs Oct 2021 - More Halloween: Costumes, Fluff & Crack here

foxes in a haunted house here

supernatural compilation here

autumnal/spooky fics here

Flavors of Fall by NikNak22 [Rated E, 146194 Words, Complete, 2022]

Previously recced here

…Neil’s not the only one with secrets in this town. Everyone seems to have something they’ve kept hidden in the dark. And as soon as one thread gets pulled, they all seem to come unraveled… Featuring second chances, making mistakes, budding relationships, and as many fall shenanigans as possible – welcome to the smalltown world of Palmetto!

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: panic attacks, tw: homophobia, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: self harm, tw: animal abuse

Fang and Stake by darkbluebox [Rated T, 2658 Words, Complete, 2020]

Previously recced here

For most hunters, it would have been a wet dream: his quarry beaten, bleeding, trapped and prone before him. He might as well have been holding a stake on a silver platter. If it had been any other vampire in the world, Andrew wouldn’t have hesitated to drive the splintering chunk of wood through his chest and be done with it. Unfortunately, Neil wasn’t any other vampire.

tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced abuse

swing me your bones by sundowne [Rated T, 3447 Words, Complete, 2022]

Ditched parties, neglected movies, cold cocoa.

Sugar & Spice (and everything... nice?) by Willow_bird [Rated T, 7468 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Fall 2020]

Previously recced here

“I’m not going as Tombo.” He’d end up looking like Where’s Waldo if he’d been a short angry bodybuilder and no one wanted that. Renee’s little smile hinted at her having a similar visual. “I think I may have something that would require few changes to what you’re wearing now and would be minimal hassle altogether.” Andrew accompanies Renee to a Halloween party, allowing his best friend to dictate his costume because he really couldn’t be paid to care. Then he gets there, and yeah, his crush is wearing the exact same costume. Feelings happen.

deadly encounters by jeanyvesmoreau [Rated T, 4012 Words, Complete, AFTG Halloween Zine 2022, Locked]

Neil, trying to avoid Halloween celebrations once again, finds his way into the dark corner of a bar. There, he meets Andrew. Or, how Neil Josten discovers vampires are real after hundreds of years he's been alive.

tw: violence, tw: blood

Cryptid Serial Killer Witch Man by attfna [Rated M, 17008 Words, Complete, 2020]

Previously recced here

Just a story about your typical, spooky cryptic and his curious gardener.

tw: scars, tw: explicit sexual content

open season by nomadicdeer (someonestolemycoffee) [Rated G, 2287 Words, Complete, 2017]

Previously recced here

Dan declares open season just before Halloween. Featuring andreil kisses, misuse of brussel sprouts, Matt in lingerie, and more.

5 times realisation struck Neil & 1 time he acted on it by alex_wh0 [Rated T, 7503 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2020]

Previously recced here

"Neil looked across the room at Andrew and felt a surge of affection so intense that it stuck in his throat. He wondered how someone who had rolled out of bed barely an hour ago could have the audacity to make him feel like this." or Five times Neil Josten had a realisation and one time he did something about it.

if you're just tuning in walk into the light by orphan_account [Rated T, 8824 Words, Complete, 2020]

Previously recced here

Andrew runs a small shop in Palmetto with his brother. It's monotonous. He takes care of his plants, makes tinctures, provides minimal customer service, and teases Kevin for his heart eyes over Aaron. It's boring, but it's good. And then Wymack hires someone new, and some things change.

The endless mental math required to simply survive. by melbopo [Rated T, 17400 Words, Complete, 2021]

Free booze and candy at Seth's expense for his frat's Halloween party on Friday? Say no more, Andrew will be there, mandatory costume and all. Perhaps Matt's new Exy loving stray will even occupy Kevin for the whole night so he doesn't give Andrew inane lectures about wasting talent and potential on intramural teams, leaving him to drink his free alcohol in blissful peace. Really, the simple mental math checks out in his favor on this one. ~~~~ (alternative title: Andrew Minyard and his acquaintances [that are actually his friends])

tw: homophobia

aaron's lament by nanatsuyu [Rated T, 9061 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021, Locked]

Previously recced here

It's the first holiday Katelyn and Aaron have hosted in their own apartment. Katelyn thinks it'll be fun. Aaron thinks there are far too many people in his home.

An Unpleasant Surprise by justdk [Rated T, 3689 Words, Complete, 2018]

Previously recced here

Neil's visit to the haunted house is not fun. At all.

tw: panic attacks

best thing by exactly13percent_OLD (hymbeaux) [Rated M, 4117 Words, Complete, 2019]

Previously recced here

Aaron has 48 hours off. Kevin has a party to attend. They both have unanswered questions.

firsts by exactly13percent_OLD (hymbeaux) [Rated G, 6270 Words, Complete, 2019]

Previously recced here

Andrew and Neil have fostered Clara and Riley for a little over a year. It's their first Halloween. It's taken a while for both kids to become comfortable, and tonight is for them.

Say something, say yes by DeyaAmaya [Rated T, 2851 Words, Complete, 2018]

Previously recced here

'I can't leave. I need to say goodbye to your son. I can't leave like this.' Mary smiles. Andrew feels a shiver down his spine. Her lips don't move, but he can hear her voice clear as a bell. 'You're not saying goodbye to him.'

tw: major character injury

House To Haunt by moonix [Rated M, 65356 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

This fic is a choose your own adventure game! Follow Kevin as he explores an abandoned mansion with a Fox companion of your choice. You can discover different parts of the mansion, learn about its previous owners' history, romance Kevin's companion, collect interesting items, solve puzzles, rescue Kevin and his friends from a variety of sticky situations... and then do it all over again! !!Please make sure to read the instructions at the beginning before you start playing!!

Something Out of Nothing by Aquared46 [Rated E, 20831 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

Fox’s Hollow had attracted tourists for decades with its haunted history and Halloween festivals. A resident for many years, Andrew doesn't believe in ghosts or hauntings, but when his workplace is being investigated by ghosthunters, he spends his early hours with a man far more intriguing and haunted than a ghost could ever be.

tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced torture

it's almost halloween by reaching_my_summit [Rated T, 2677 Words, Complete, 2017]

the Foxes celebrate halloween together at Eden's. someone flirts with Andrew. Neil is not about that.

do you like scary movies? by Ominous, Stjosten [Rated T, 22519 Words, Complete, 2020]

Previously recced here

To say Andrew has never seen the benefit in the make-believe would be a lie. However, he finds less and less use for it as he grows older. He especially fails to see the benefits of anything from the horror genre; he’s made plenty of his own mistakes, has seen more than enough to terrify him in his life. He doesn’t need to rely on jump scares and idiotic protagonists. But when he meets Neil, self-proclaimed horror archivist, he finds that maybe he never gave the genre the credit it was due, and he ends up thanking the dull movies eventually… They lead him to Neil, the realest thing he’s ever known.

pumpkin heads by moonix [Rated T, 4278 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

Tonight is the night. Halloween, Andrew and Neil's last night working at the pumpkin patch, and the night Andrew is finally going to ask Kevin out. If only they could find Kevin... (Based on the graphic novel Pumpkin Heads, but you don't need to have read it to understand the fic.)

Andrew Minyard Loves Fall (and will fight anyone who doesn’t) by mareofthesky [Rated G, 11074 Words, Complete, 2022]

Andrew is trying to enjoy his favorite season in peace, but a certain Mystery Man keeps popping up out of nowhere. With a long string of aliases, an infuriating mouth, and striking features, he's managed to catch Andrew's attention in a way that not many can. Andrew can't seem to get the menace out of his head, but he's beginning to think he doesn't want to.

NB: author’s fall spotify playlist here

skylight by djhedy [Rated T, 5560 words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2020]

Previously recced here

neil moves to a pro team, a new apartment, in a new city, and is held up by his friends. and by a series of mysterious gifts left on his doormat.

What if We Held Hands in our Pyjama Pants by transjorts [Rated T, 9301 Words, Complete, 2021]

A very soft, autumn-themed high school au in which Andrew, Aaron and Nicky are the new kids and Neil accidentally catches feelings.

tw: dysphoria, tw: transphobia, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Art

aftghalloweenzine cosplay by @foxy-exy

your favorite emotional support sapphics art by @kashjsnsndnan

Renison as Witch and vampire art by @pria-png

adoptive!Bee halloween and happy halloween! art by @deklo

andreil halloween costumes art by @manekkii-art

andreil halloween costumes art by @lunapiq

All family together art by @kurra

the foxes in their costumes art by @jojen-hewitt

Neil and Andrew in Eden’s outfits + Halloween art by @fabulousmisfits

happy halloween, foxes art by @jeannemaybedarc

Put ‘em up and Neil costume comic art by @emry-stars-art

Halloween party… art by @stiigex

Halloween andreil makeup meme art by @jesperandwylansittinginnatree

AngelJean and DevilJeremy art by @blablablabel

[aria-greenhoodie]

Abigale Northwest, your wings are clipped and your nest is full. How do you keep your fledgling safe when you cannot fly for yourself?

Click for Quality

Version without face covering + some ramblings below cut ↓

Ok so. I have a very specific interpretation of Abigale Blackwing/Northwest and I’ve constructed a whole narrative so I’m going to vomit some bullet points here because I’m CRAZY.

After the conference that got the Anti-Cipher society disbanded and had Thurburt Mudget Waxstaff III institutionalized, Abigale fled the scene for fear of meeting the same fate.

As an unmarried woman with an eccentric personality (and a checkered past according to my own headcanons) she would have been VERY at risk of being institutionalized as well, and mental hospitals in the early 1900s were uh. Definitely not great places to be if you’re a woman (Obviously it’s not great for men either but they did some real heinous shit to women specifically), and Abigale knows that.

While in hiding, a wealthy man by the surname of Northwest finds and approaches her with an offer; he would offer her safety from authorities and mental institutions in exchange for her hand in marriage.

Not seeing another way out, and her paranoia flaring due to still being taunted in her dreams by that damned triangle, she agrees.

She HATES her husband. Fucking DESPISES him. She hates their house, she hates how he refuses to let her tinker and invent in peace, she hates his rules and mannerisms. She is MISERABLE.

The only good thing to come from that man is their son. She ADORES her boy, and desperately wants to keep him safe and well.

Unfortunately Mr. Northwest is a huge piece of shit to both his wife and child so that doesn’t go very well.

Abigale feels trapped. She thought this marriage would cement her freedom from the asylum, but now she just lives in a different type of cage. She’s not sure how much longer she can take this before doing something drastic.

I have a different artpiece about that drastic thing she may or may not have done…. Teehee…. I’ll post it later 😇

Anyway long live Abigale Blackwing I am her biggest and only fan and proud to be

[chocobosdungeon2]

this is hands down the worst thing ive ever made but their similarities (and differences) have been rattling around in my head

[mikiib]

TADC Freakshow AU POISON

Its coming out swimmingly! Sorry it's been a bit, work life balance is difficult to manage right now- but if you'd like to support me and my other projects to get this out sooner feel free to check out my Ko-fi! https://ko-fi.com/mikiib

Freakshow AU OG creator: @hootbon Marriage Plot inspired by: @sm-baby

[c0ckedgun]

guardian angel

[ofishialy]

Vaguely inspired off of Crime and Punishment by DECO*27

[aftgficrec]

I would loveee fics where Andrew defends Neil to aaron and the other foxes (but definitely Aaron), i’ve seen so many of Neil defending Andrew but not a lot of the other way around and Neil deserves to have his man defend his honorrr

In canon, post-medication Andrew does not talk much to anyone besides Neil. Still there are definitely fics with this. Just know Andrew’s defense of Neil can be one sentence in a story, and physical violence is often his preferred method of communication. -A

previous recs  

‘The Ash is in Our Clothes’ here

‘Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder’ here

‘in the common tongue’ here 

‘I hate him,’ ‘One day we'll reveal the truth,’ ‘i'm getting static from my better sense’ and ‘My brother under the sun’ here

‘some1 saying something…’ here

‘Ember’ here

‘Can he play?’ here

‘Surreal But Nice’ here

‘Least Favorite Only Child’ here

‘Fighting Words’ here

‘Trust Fall (And Welcoming Arms)’ here

‘(Don't) Stand So Close’ here

‘In the Eye of the Beholder’ here

‘Beach Bois’ here

‘I'm Not Okay (I Promise).’ and ‘It’s not living (If it’s not with you)’ here

‘soft spots make easy targets’ here

‘Even the Darkest Night Will End’ and ‘The Andreil escapades’ here

in Masterlist for Nicky Kissing Neil: ‘The Kiss,’ ‘History Repeating,’ ‘Andrew Finds Out,’ ‘Something, Nothing & Everything’ (also big twinyards confrontation), ‘A Crack in the Mask,’ ‘Truth Time, ‘Truths Come Out,’ ‘The Unkindness of Ravens’ ch 16, ‘Delayed Reaction,’ ‘Delayed reaction (the fear of falling remix),’ ‘All For The Game Musings,’ ‘andrew finds out about what happened…,’ ‘Hold Each Other’ ch 6 and ch 15, and ‘Slip’. Finally, ‘Lessons in Cartography’ has Andrew defending Neil to both Aaron and Jack throughout

Andrew defends Neil to non-foxes

‘Something About The Sunshine’ here

‘Warmth’ here

Foxhole Tidbits ‘Ch. 22: Silent, but Snarky’ here

‘Through A Glass Darkly’ and ‘Some Things You Just Can't Bury’ here

‘Martyr’ here

‘The Bones of You’ here

‘monsters at night’ here

‘Killer Bunny’ here 

‘you're not next before forever’ here (completed)

‘looking for you’ here

‘Give Me Another Minute (to Lay Here in Your Echo)’ here 

‘Ficlet Collection…’ ch 35-37 here

you may also like

feral protective Andrew here

protective/possessive Andrew here

overprotective Andrew here 

protective Andrew here

protective Andrew gets hurt here

protective Neil/Andrew here

jealous Andrew here

previous recs where Andrew kills Nathan here

our latest Neil & Aaron ask here

Unconventional Therapy by JostenlovesMinyard [Rated M, Twinyards Appreciation Week 2021]

Twinyard Appreciation Week - Day 2 | “bottle episode” Andrew and Aaron attend their weekly therapy session but things don’t quite go to plan when the door handle falls off and they’re stuck in there together.

tw: implied/referenced rape/nocon, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Written On His Skin by hismiley16 [Not Rated, 11344 Words, Complete, 2023]

Part 4 of Nothing is Safe Series

The Foxes face the Ravens for the first time since Riko's death and things go as well as expected. Andrew is mildly injured on the court and isn't there to protect Neil when the new Evermore captain comes for him after the game. The team sees more than Neil ever wanted them to, including the ghost of Nathaniel he thought he'd buried in Baltimore.

tw: vomit, tw: bullying, tw: nonconsensual touch/assault  tw: dissociation, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced animal death, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

this is me trying by crownowl [Not Rated, 2142 Words, Complete, 2023]

After Neil has a panic attack Andrew finds out exactly what happened when Nicky drugged Neil and he is not happy.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced nonconsensual kissing, tw: implied/referenced nonconsensual drug use, tw: ptsd

Don't let me be by Cutie_Wan [Not Rated, 1983 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil suffers a major dissociation episode in front of the Foxes.

tw: dissociation, tw: violence

One Step Forward by thecompletebookworm [Rated T, 1665 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Winter 2020]

Based on the prompt: “Andrew and Aaron talking and solving their problems” "If you really don't care about Andrew, why does Neil bother you so much?"   Dobson asked during their Wednesday session. Aaron dug his fingers into the couch.  He hated this.  Hated that the only time he could get answers out of Andrew was when he was sitting in front of a shrink.   A shrink who was undoubtedly on his brother's side. And that in order to get answers he had to rip himself raw first.  

tw: implied/referenced rape/nocon, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Angry Alone by obsessivereader156 [Not Rated, 1799 Words, Complete, 2023]

“Of course I’m not homophobic, you asshole. What are you even talking about?” “Aaron, please don’t use that type of language here,” Betsy softly interjects. “You’ve been very hostile towards Neil,” Andrew says plainly, as if that’s enough of an answer. ______________________________ Aaron has been feeling angry and alone lately. Maybe he doesn't have to be alone about it.

Everything's Alright by DarkD [Rated E, 182901 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2023]

Souls weren't meant to be left alone, so they split, always looking for their other half. No matter how long it took, the moment a soul existed, it sought the one that would complete it. The main indication is, when one of the halves of the soul turns seven years old, an identical mark appears on both parts. Along with that comes a set of unique abilities that soulmates can only use with each other—for protection, for finding each other. Soulmates would never be alone.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: gun violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: murder, tw: canonical character death

A flash of anger. prompt fill by @nickyhenmick [Tumblr, 2016]

All reporters got on Andrew’s nerves. They were invasive and never asked interesting questions, and there was probably a reason he was rarely allowed to be on press duty.

a stupid ass decision prompt fill by @find-yourself-in-passion [Tumblr, 2017]

“I recognize that you have reached a decision,” Andrew replied over the top of Neil’s protests, unwrapping his right hand in such a rush that Neil knew he was going to have red marks where the tap ripped at his flesh. “Andrew-” “But given that it is a stupid ass decision,” He continued on, refusing to acknowledge the other man’s piercing gaze on him as he threw his bag and shoes in the closet, knowing what faced him when he turned around. “I have elected to ignore it.”

Art

3 & 10 art by @thematicallycoherent

im thinkin bout these two art by @wiltkingart

Safe. art by @eislekaj on instagram

exy banquet smoke break art by @twohiddenhalves

Vkook as reference art by @reyko__ on instagram

roof. andrew. tattoos. and two cigarettes. and neil. art by @puhnatsson

Someone strong to lean on art by @fornavn

[symbioticsimplicity]

Of all the things he'd imagined doing over the weekend, being drug around the pound by an overly excited Maxine hadn’t been high on his list.

Sure, he'd told her his therapist had advised getting himself a dog, but he hadn’t expected that to translate into "We're going dog shopping right now." He supposes he should have seen it coming, but he was always kind of out of it after therapy.

The lady at the counter had given him the stink eye at first, but relented when Max had bopped up to her instead. Not that his sister had any better manners than he did (worse, he'd argue), but she was small and she was excited and it was hard to say no to those big green eyes.

Which was how he ended up being pulled around to every kennel at the shelter.

In truth, Billy had hardly been paying attention. He figured whatever dog they'd land on would be fine. He'd never had a dog but how different could it be from having a sister?

It wasn't until they passed a seemingly empty kennel that his attention was snagged.

"The card on the door says there's a dog in here." Max gestured to said card, containing a little information on the supposed dog, "Daisy, five years old, red nosed pitbull, recent rescue. Huh."

Billy peeked around her, first at the card, then at the seemingly empty kennel before a though occurred to him.

He dropped down into a crouch, a little too quickly for his knees, and checked under the little doggy cot set up in there. Sure enough, there was a little ball of short fur tucked away in the very corner.

She was almost as red as Max's hair, though there were patches missing. Billy had had more than enough cigarette burns to recognize them on sight. It made his stomach turn, the idea of someone using an animal as a punching bag like that.

"Daisy?" He called, keeping his voice as soft as he could, with limited success. Gentle was still new to him.

To his surprise, a head perked up. Just a little bit, just two floppy ears twitching towards the sound of her name. Both ears were notched, and one didn't sit at the same angle as the other one.

"Hey there, Daisy." He spoke again, "You picked the best hiding spot in the house."

The only one really, one Billy himself had tried a time or two before he realized hiding only made things worse.

To his surprise her tail thumped against the ground in an aborted wag. Like she was happy to be spoke to, but so nervous at the same time. He knew that feeling all too well too.

He sat himself down on the floor since crouching was making his legs go numb, making sure he did it slowly so as not to spook Daisy.

"It looks kinda small for you though." He continued, "But I guess that's kind of nice sometimes too."

Billy loved small spaces. No one ever expected him to be able to fit into them, so no one ever looked for him there. Plus the tightness almost felt like a hug. There had been plenty of times he slipped himself into a crawl space or an overfilled closet and just let himself daydream he was somewhere else.

Daisy's tail thumped again, twice this time, and Billy found himself smiling a little.

"Well," Max said, just as quietly as Billy was, "I think we found the right fit."