#wildcat writes

[lunar-lattice]

He Followed You Home

So I saw a post from @raccoon-in-a-dumpster (original post) and I was so intensely inspired that I just had to write something! (In fact, the idea kept me up for a whole hour past i meant to)

The timeline for this isn't too important so don't think tooo hard on it. What you need to know is FNAF1 has happened (though Michael had nothing to do with it) but Sister Location hasn't (because it felt important Michael look...human).

Michael's taken a seasonal job at Fazbear's Fright where the owner swears up and down that he's still looking for a working, real animatronic for it. He expects nothing of it. However, the next day a banging at his door wakes him up. Someone followed him home. Someone he never thought he'd see again.

Michael wasn’t quite sure why he let the old animatronic into his home. He didn’t really know why he did a lot of things nowadays. Maybe he was curious. Maybe he felt bad for it. Maybe he didn’t want it to get rained on. Maybe he was just lonely.

It was a dreary Saturday morning. Clouds gathered overhead and thunder grumbled somewhere in the distance, promising rain that hadn’t fallen yet. Mike hadn’t been home that long. He had picked up a night guard job at a horror attraction called Fazbear’s Fright. It was a seasonal job but jobs in Hurricane weren’t really in abundance and well, he was nostalgic.

It seemed like it was going to be easy sailing. Just watch over the place and make sure no one got in. ‘Or out!’, Logan, the owner, joked with him before admitting he hadn’t yet found an actual working animatronic for the attraction. He had a few leads but Mike, cynical as ever, doubted they’d go anywhere.

He was awoken only a few hours into his sleep by a loud banging at his front door and a sharp, electric keening. He jolted up out of a dead sleep, still groggy, head swiveling to find the intruder. None to be found but the noise still persisting, his confusion morphed into fear. What was that? Wary, he retrieved the metal bat he kept beside his bed and went to investigate.

The noise only seemed to get more frantic. Michael could count how many people might visit him on one hand and even all those seemed unlikely. He lived a quiet, unassuming life and that’s how he liked it.

He made it to the front door and peered out the peephole.

Fredbear’s face stared back.

He stumbled back with a swear. What was this?! Karma come to collect after so damn long?!

Did it maybe follow him from the attraction? Logan swore up and down he hadn’t found a functioning animatronic quite yet. So either he was lying or...he didn’t know what he had.

Michael dared to look again. From what he could see, Fredbear had really seen better days. His face was no longer brilliant gold but a sickly green-yellow. Only one of his eyes shone in a single, almost ghostly, blue hue. Despite all the years that had gone by, his muzzle still had a faint brown discoloration.

He knew he probably shouldn’t let the animatronic in but…

...he looked so sad.

Fredbear keened again and scratched at the door. Michael’s icy heart melted and he sighed, “What am I doing.”

He raised his voice and lowered his bat, “I’m going to open the door. No funny business, alright?”

Fredbear made a happy chirp, which was agreement enough for Michael. He opened the door and the animatronic lurched inside, looking all around the entryway then at him. Fredbear, even with all the decay, still towered over him and Michael had to will himself not to visibly panic. Up close, he could see the extent of his wear. There was only half of his foam covering remaining over a rusted endoskeleton. As he moved, the metal grinded against itself in a low, pained groan.

The animatronic tilted his head and then did something curious: he reached out and touched Michael’s face.

Michael flinched and Fredbear did so in turn, as if he had been burned. He chittered anxiously, pulling his hand back. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” Mike murmured but still took a step back.

Fredbear lowered his head, looking the part of a sad, depressed kid. Mike hissed through his teeth and ushered him in, “Um, come in, come in.”

He led the animatronic into the living room, babbling as he did, “This is my home. Um, well, it’s my father’s home but no one’s really seen him for a while and I’m his next-of-kin so. I guess that does make it my home.”

He stopped in the middle of the living room. He really was lonely, wasn’t he?

Fredbear seemed to have forgotten the incident and was investigating the living room, circling the couch then stopping in front of the TV and entertainment center. His joints screeched as he bent over to look at the DVDs and VHS tapes and Mike made a note to go look for some oil. Probably out back in the workshop.

Suddenly, Fredbear made a noise, a sort of strangled keen. Mike wandered over to see what he was looking at.

Arranged neatly in order was Evan’s collection of Fredbear and Friends tapes. Michael asked, “You...want me to put one in?”

Frantically, Fredbear shook his head then whined again. Michael frowned, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

That struck some chord inside the animatronic who bowed its head. It was almost...contemplative. A very human emotion to assign to a machine. Then, without more of that, Fredbear rose and went wandering down the hall. Michael followed.

They went past Lizzie’s room, which had been closed since...she passed. Then his own childhood room, which he had been sleeping in. Finally, they stopped at Evan’s at the end of the hall. Like Lizzie’s, it hadn’t really been opened since his passing. Fredbear opened the door, much more gently than one would expect from an animatronic of his size, and went inside. He stopped in the middle of the room, between the bed and the closet and just...stood there.

Michael lingered in the doorway, “This is...was my brother’s room. Dad left it like this and I really didn’t feel like I should mess with it either.”

Fredbear wandered around, ears raised in what seemed to be happiness. He stopped in front of the bed where a quartet of plushies sat. Bonnie, Chica, Freddy and even Foxy was there. Last time Mike had seen the fox plush it was after he had decapitated it in his youth. He couldn’t even remember why he did that. But now it looked like someone had sewn him back together. He imagined it was probably his father, in a quiet moment of grief he kept privy to everyone.

There was a glaring omission and Fredbear noticed it. He made a series of clicks, pointing to each plushie then the empty space beside. Michael furrowed his eyebrows, “Ev had a Fredbear plush too but dunno where it went.”

He tried to think back but it really had been a long time ago and the stress of his teenage years had chewed a lot of his memories up. Maybe his father had taken it somewhere. Maybe he had ended up putting it in Evan’s casket, so the pair would never be apart again.

Fredbear made a disappointed whirr as he gathered the plushies. He went next to the toy box and put them down before he began to rummage inside. Michael couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t think Evan would mind very much. At least he hoped so.

A thought came to his mind and, determined to follow it, he said, “Are you going to be fine by yourself?”

Fredbear turned to him then nodded. He went back to setting up some sort of town with the blocks.

Michael disappeared into the attic for fifteen minutes and returned, standing at the doorway. “Hey, kiddo,” he greeted, landing on the term of endearment rather than call the animatronic by its name.

In the time he had been gone, Fredbear’s town had grown and he appeared to be playing out a story with the plushies. Michael held out two new plushies, a dusty but otherwise new Fredbear and Spring Bonnie, “We still had a bunch in the attic. Fredbear’s not the same and his hat’s not the right color but um. You have the whole set now!”

Fredbear accepted the plushies, looking from one to the other. Fredbear was set with the others in the town but Spring Bonnie was tossed dismissively onto the bed where she rolled off between the bed and the wall. “Huh,” Michael wondered but decided to look no deeper into it. Maybe he just didn’t like Spring Bonnie and it amused him to imagine how huffy his father would get about that.

The silence of the room was broken by his stomach growling. Michael blushed, his cheeks flushing red. Fredbear chittered in amusement and made a gesture, shooing him out the door. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll make breakfast. If you need me, the kitchen’s right off the living room. You’ll see me.”

Once in the kitchen, Michael got a chance to ask himself what the hell was he doing? Fredbear, the animatronic who haunted his nightmares for years, shows up and he just lets him in? Treats him like a kid, acts like nothing was weird about this? He hung his head.

The house was lonely enough when it was just him and his father but now that William had disappeared, it felt like a mausoleum. Everywhere Michael looked was memories of a time long past. He couldn’t bear to go into his siblings’ rooms (at least, before today) or even his father’s. He mostly stuck to the living room and his own room, but those still stung with the pain of memory.

He wasn’t going to deny himself this little scrap of happiness that had wandered into his home. Even if he wanted to, Fredbear seemed too happy for him to. He didn’t really understand why but decided maybe it didn’t matter. And if this was all some ploy for the animatronic to kill him...well, that would just be karma, right?

He had just finished breakfast, a giant plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, when Fredbear came back in. Clutched between his hands was a piece of paper and, excitedly, he offered it to him.

Michael took it and it felt like a vice had closed on his heart. In messy but careful strokes, Fredbear had drawn a little yellow bear in a striped sweater and a fox in a tank top. The pair stood outside a house that looked like the one they were inside. A giant red heart was between the two. Unbidden, tears welled up in his eyes and he couldn’t choke back the ragged sob that tore through his chest.

Fredbear chittered quietly, sadly and he turned to him. Through his tears, he assured, “No, no, it’s alright! We’ll...we’ll put it on the fridge. Just like Mom would’ve.”

He crossed the kitchen, hands shaking as he held the drawing like it was sacred. He carefully pinned it front and center on the fridge. How did Fredbear know?

A thought came unbidden to his mind and, as fast as it appeared, he dismissed it! There was no way! He couldn’t still be around! Pained, he imagined stuffing the notion into a box and latching it shut. He couldn’t have consigned his brother to such a fate!

He wiped his eyes then turned, finding Fredbear had moved his plate to the table and was trying, very carefully, to lower himself into the chair. It protested but, miraculously, held. Michael smiled through the last of his tears and joined him at the table, “I’d make you something but...you really can’t eat, I guess.”

As if he made a joke, Fredbear chittered again and he smiled, wider this time.

After breakfast, Fredbear led him back out to the living room by the hand. He stopped in front of the VHS tapes again and looked at them. He picked one out and offered it to him. “You want to watch one, after all?” Mike asked and, determined, the bear nodded.

While he made sure the VHS player still worked and put in the tape, Fredbear left to retrieve his plushies and the blanket off Evan’s bed. He came back and sat in front of the couch, gesturing for Mike to drape the blanket over his shoulders. Just like…

He did all the animatronic wanted and, once the tape played through the theme, he settled on the couch. It really did feel like a lazy Saturday morning back in the early 80s. The house was pleasantly cool, the Saturday morning cartoons were playing and he had no worries in the world. Fredbear was clicking happily as he watched. Maybe for once, in a very long time, he did something right.

He settled his head against the pillow, listening to the TV until he nodded off.

Evan watched through the first episode before turning to see his brother’s reaction. Michael was sleeping, curled up into a ball with his arms around himself. He was cold. As quietly as he could, he rose and pulled the red quilt off the back of the couch and over his brother. Then, for good measure, he took Foxy and tucked him between his arms.

Michael was so different now. Obviously, he was much older now and looked painfully like their father but, if Evan looked, there were differences. Just like their youth, his hair was grown out into a messy mullet. When his eyes were open, they were silver-blue, like a mix of both their parents’ eyes.

He was kinder now too. And sadder. And lonelier.

Michael hadn’t realized yet who he was. Evan wondered if he even had an idea and, if he did, if he was even willing to face it.

If only his voice box wasn’t as damaged as it was! He needed to communicate with him, with more than mechanical sounds and pantomiming. He had so many questions to ask and so much to tell but...he really just wanted him to know who he was first and foremost.

Evan missed his brother. It’s why he wasn’t mad, not anymore. What point was there to hold a grudge when all he wanted to do was see his brother again? It was like a wish come true seeing his brother led through the halls of that rundown building. He had almost thought it wasn’t him until he saw his eyes. Even with how sad his brother was, they weren’t their father’s steely silver. They sparkled with life.

He let the second half of the tape play as he mulled over his dilemma. Trying to contact him through dreams was too risky. He was rusty with it and the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally scare him.

The tape ended when it came to him. There was a way. A way that was so surefire, he knew it would work.

It was late afternoon when Michael awoke. He was covered up with a blanket and the Foxy plush was tucked in his arms. The tape has ended, lighting the room up with a blue hue as it bid him to rewind it. Fredbear wasn’t in the living room anymore and he had left his blanket and plushies. “Kiddo?” he asked into the empty air.

Fredbear was where he expected him, back in Evan’s room. When he entered, the bear excitedly waved him over and gestured for him to sit beside him. Still groggy and a bit confused, he followed suit, “What’s up? Wanna show me something?”

Fredbear nodded and laid a drawing in front of him. It was a drawing of Evan and himself, smiling in front of their house. He tapped Evan then presented a second drawing.

This one was of himself, older (evidenced by how taller he was and the fact he was dressed differently) and of Fredbear in front of the same house. Fredbear arranged it so it was directly below the first drawing, so the two pairs lined up perfectly. He tapped the teenager him then dragged his finger down to the older him. He repeated the gesture between Evan and Fredbear.

Michael stared. Fredbear repeated the gesture, slowly this time, clicking as he did.

There was no way...but yet…

He looked at the pair of drawings then at the bear, his brother, and croaked, “Evan…?"

Evan clicked happily and nodded. This time, Michael couldn’t stop himself from full-on sobbing, “Oh, Evan!”

It felt absurd but he couldn’t stop himself from throwing himself at the animatronic, hugging him as tightly as he can and muttering apology over apology. He could apologize a thousand times and a thousand more and it still wouldn’t have felt like enough. Evan whirred at him, so softly it could have been a comforting purr, and returned the embrace.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Michael pulled away. He sniffled, “Evan, oh my god, I’m so sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt. I never meant for you to end up like this!” he gestured to him.

Evan made a waving gesture, like he was asking him to not worry. Still, Michael continued babbling, “I’ll make this better, alright! Your brother’s gonna fix it, no matter what! We’ll get you cleaned up even! I think maybe Uncle Henry will understand, if I explain what’s happening, I don’t think he’s mad at me even though we haven’t talked in a while. I never really got all the animatronic business but I bet I can learn and make you comfortable and—“

He was cut off by Evan laying his hand over his mouth and chittering sternly at him. “Right,” Michael imagined pulling himself back, “One step at a time. So...what first?”

His brother made a show of thinking then pantomimed putting a VHS into the player. Michael laughed, “More Fredbear and Friends?”

Evan nodded so he agreed, “That sounds perfect.”

[kosmicsandshoes]

doodles

[starvingdelusions]

Pairings: Smii7y/Kryoz, Droid/Pezzy

Fandom: Banana Bus Squad

No. of works (currently): 12

Series description:

A Slice of Life series.

[Written in a wacky order. Enjoy :)]

Ongoing...

I have been working on this series since the beginning of May, and wow, I love it so much. It's definitely some of my favourite stuff I've ever written.

[rosesradio]

ej being deprived of his last summer as a teen before being cast out of his abusive household to work four jobs to support himself is crazy…they couldn’t let him have one more summer of fun…diabolical…

[vanosslirious]

SMii7y is able to compromise for the sake of his beloved work and the relationship he searched for...

Words: 2.346 | 75.385

Excerpt:

John was frowning at SMii7y. "She really doesn't bug you or anything?"

"Does her presence make you feel as if there's bugs under your skin?" SMii7y asked, smiling. "Human's are more…relinquished of control with Reaper's. I'm sure you've seen one when you died too."

"I don't recall…"

[bitterrobin]

I have a very quickly fic idea growing centering around a rewrite/AU of Battle for The Cowl and Batman and Robin (2009) where Dick is replaced by Bette Kane. Not as Batman or anything, but as the main “caretaker” so to speak of Damian after he arrives in Gotham.

This came about bc I’m super interested in exploring Bette Kane as a genuine Bat-character rather than a background character that she’s usually portrayed as. I think with her as Flamebird, there’s room to have her directly parallel Dick Grayson as a character.

They’re both athletic, gymnastic heroes without powers and a generally positive attitude. But they can also be antagonistic within relationships as Dick can be…a dick to others and Bette is always regarded as an annoying, clingy person in comics where she features. Bette is just always put down in the comics I’ve read as inexperienced (which I’ve actually never seen put into actual writing with like, an example) which additionally rings untrue when you factor in canonically being Batgirl.

Despite Morrison’s many fuck-ups in Batman Inc alone, I did really like that they brought back Kathy Kane (the og Batwoman) as an agent of Spyral. Taking in her time as Batwoman and Bette’s time as Batgirl, they could parallel Bruce and Dick as mentor/mentee and mother/daughter.

I plan on having Kathy adopt Bette as a direct parallel, but also have Kathy abandon Bette to continue her Spyral duties/fake her death in order to further add to the sense of loneliness/attachment issues that Bette seems to have in canon. There’s a lot to be explored regarding Spyral as a spy agency too. Though obviously when I get to it, Im completely cutting Otto Netz and the N*zi backstory of the organization out. (Seriously Morrison what were you thinking!?!)

While I’m not entirely sure of the overarching plot of the fic yet, I do want to further develop Bette as a full character -tragic backstory and all- and have her interact with Damian. Bette is an 80s California valley girl/competitive athlete type of character that will be super fun writing interacting with Damian’s younger, angstier self.

One big idea I also might add is the inclusion of Gotham heroes who aren’t Bat-related. We get a small glimpse of them in The Network spinoff of the BfTC, but not enough that I would like. I might include snippets of Mother Panic from the Young Animal imprint bc she’s very cool. Ragman is a character I adore (ironically despite the fact that I am not Jewish and Rory Regan is a very Jewish character) so he’ll definitely be given a larger role in BfTC. While I like Ted Grant-Wildcat and I’m still catching up on Yolanda Grant-Wildcat, I’ve read the 2006 Justice Society and I fell in love with Tom Bronson’s Wildcat. So he’s definitely having a role too.

Anyway, to finish this up, if anyone has any Bette Kane comic recs or any fun hcs for her and Damian’s interactions - feel free to tag them!

[dragongirlclawtoes]

CHIMERA HEART LOG - NS 1578/03/11

"Chimera Heart operator WILDCAT... what was the damn keyphrase again?" A voice crackled over the intercom. The thunder boomed. The storm had been going for a good 12 hours at this point. "Shit! Just let me in already!" she shouted. The door slid open, and the guard scanned the blood-soaked tiger girl and her unexpected luggage. \QUICK DIAGNOSTICS: - VIXEN operator WILDCAT: severely damaged arm, mental distress peaked - Unknown biological: alive, mortally wounded, barely breathing

The guard nodded, before getting shoved aside as WILDCAT rushed past. She turned immediately towards the stairs to the basement level. The guard shook their head and radioed in for a janitor to be dispatched; the fresh blood trail directly to the safehouse door would attract unwanted attention on a less stormy day.

---

WILDCAT stepped into the medbay 3 minutes after entering the building. She dropped the half of her arm that had broken off into the electronics bin on her way past the desk.

"Let me-" a medic started to say. WILDCAT growled.

She laid the body on the nearest free bed. "Now you can examine them." she declared, already heading towards the back. The cybernetics half.

The medic engaged their eye augments and stared at the body on the bed. So many fatal wounds... Did WILDCAT really think this local civilian, this unfortunate bystander could be saved...?

The maimed bystander's heart took half a second longer to beat. The medic disengaged their eye augment. "Medical operator calling CHRYSALIS team..."

-------

By the time the 7 minutes it took for WILDCAT to be fitted with a temporary replacement arm and be sent on her way had passed, the body she'd left for treatment had been taken, bed and all.

"There was nothing I could do, the wounds were too deep for me to heal." The medic apologized. "Their heart was already failing too..."

"CHRYSALIS?" WILDCAT asked. It was as much a statement as a question.

The medic nodded solemnly. "I advised the team to send whatever results come from the conversion process to you. Even if it fails-"

...CHRYSALIS could fail? Had it ever failed before? Then again, this would probably be the first time it would be used on someone in this condition...

WILDCAT couldn't help but wonder.

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

WHG Prompt 4 - Temper Temper

Lyra loses her temper a little and smashes a TV

Taglist: @concealeddarkness13 @maple-writes @pied-piper-of-hamlet @pen-of-roses @ratracechronicler 

------------------------

Right, the train. She remembered this from last time.

Last time she was bowled over with curiosity at the train, but she’d been on a few since last time. Still, she was surprised how spacious it seemed. How fast it moved.

She swiped a few plates of food for herself and made her way to where screens displayed the other tributes, both already chosen and the ones that were still being chosen. If she was going to try and help, she wanted a better idea of who might need her help and who might be able to help her. She watched closely this time, paying attention to the tributes, the way they stood, what was being said, who they were already talking about being favorites. Who was going to need an ally, who was going to be a problem. Which of them seemed to have winning on the mind versus those that simply looked like they wanted to get out.

A commotion caught her ear, and she listened as the one who was calling names harassed the other tribute that had been selected in the same district. Chewed lightly on a bit of something gummy that tasted a bit like cheese and relaxed a little against a table, keeping her attention on the conversation. Waited for it to finish and for the same name-caller person to stroll up to her.

“Now…” he checked something in his hands before looking back up at her. “Lyra, was it?”

She gave a noncommittal shrug and made some sort of noise, eyeing him. He seemed to try and smooth his suit down and contain irritation, but wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

He tried to recover. “So, I believe you’re new to our district. First time in the games?”

She shook her head and gave another shrug, watching his irritation build.

“Well if you have any–”

“You’re just a citizen, right?” The question caught him off-guard. She finally looked directly at him, waiting for an answer that was a short affirmation.

“I’m–”

“I don’t care. I’m asking if you have any right to treat us like some sort of vehicle just to get you from where you are now to wherever it is you want to be.” She leaned forward a little bit and gave him a grin wide enough to see the sharper bits of her teeth near the back of her smile. “You want to get out of here, right? That’s why you threatened the other one by telling them you could make their life a living hell unless they made you look good so you don’t have to come back? Sounds like you got owned enough, but let me add to the sentiment.”

She gave a small laugh and turned fully to him, putting her hands behind her back and leaning in with the same unnervingly wide smile. “If you torment us by acting like we’re feral animals put on display that you’ve somehow tamed, I will in fact act like a feral animal that you have not managed to tame.”

To make her point, Lyra jumped up on the seats on one side, climbed and shoved off the windows, using her length to jump for the roof of the train. She managed a grab at the metal bracers there and swung her full weight into the screen on the far wall, hitting it with both her feet square against the surface and smiling at the cracks. She let go of the bracers and pushed off the screen in one motion, the thing snapping off the wall as she spun and twisted enough to land on her feet directly in front of the same man who had backed away. She got directly in front of him and smiled sweetly, hands behind her back again.

“Now…what was it you said? Your goal is to look good to your high-borns? How do you think that’ll play to them?”

He started to get properly angry, going to grab her by the arm in an angry spout that she imagined was designed to tell her off. So she just hauled off and bit him, latching onto the fussy fabric that tore under her jaw as he yanked it back and made a complaint about his suit. Sounded like a cover for the fear that was taking over in his eyes.

She tugged at the fabric and made a face. “Ugh, that tastes and smells as nasty as it looks. The least you could do is wash your suit with something that has a flavor and a good smell. You look like you could afford to do that.”

He started muttering as he backed away, Lyra debating whether or not she should haul off and ram him with her horns. But before she could decide -- the voice of her Qwkas already getting after her and begging her not to use her horns in such a manner -- he was already retreating, so she just waved with a smile.

“Thanks for the bit of your suit!!” she called after him. “I’ll keep it so I can remember what you smell like in case I need to hunt you down later like a dog!!!”

There was a commotion, and it sounded like someone was coming to check on the commotion. Lyra glanced at the screen with a pout before grabbing a muffin with something caked on the top, stuffing it in her mouth, and taking off.

Her Qwkas always warned her that her wild temperament would get her in trouble some day. Now she had to go hide out until they gave up looking for the troublemaker and then find a screen so she could resume watching the reaping.

[ramp-it-up]

• @rafaelcasal Ok first, the ranch bathroom has confidence building lighting, and I appreciate that. It wants you to feel good, it tells you that you should. Channeling my inner Kentucky today.

Why? Because WILDCAT has gone wide, opening at a ton more theaters across the country! Check out @maya_hawke and @ethanhawke’s beautiful film, and when the high hats start, catch me bringing Parker back. We had such a great time making WILDCAT, it’s a total work of art. See if it’s playing near you. S/o to Louisville where we shot, and Stinking Creek where turns out my grandfather was born. On that side of the gene pool, they literally got it out the mud. (Whole other story.)

[wipbigbang]

WIP BIG BANG SIGN-UPS ARE LIVE!

The 2024 round of WIP Big Bang is now open for sign-ups! Any fandom is welcome, as long as the fic is 500 completed so far and will be at least 7,500 words upon its finishing. Signing up is easy: just fill out the form linked below after you read the FAQ and take a look at the schedule.

[chiropteracupola]

ladyhawke (foth or sharpe)??? 👀👀👀

EXCITING DOUBLE BIRD EVENT! and here we get the fun time of describing the Difference between the sharpe and foth ladyhawke stories, and also why the sharpe one has been so much easier to write.

so the film Ladyhawke, in which both these stories are based, is about a curse placed on a pair of semi-star-crossed lovers, involving day-night animal transformations that don't overlap with the other half of the duo. but a lot of Ladyhawke's humor and charm proves to come from the fact that it's told from an outside perspective — a silly fellow with a penchant for theft, prison breaks, and general mischief. and thus, it's a much smoother journey to allow the Chosen Men to scamper about low-fantasy vaguely-medievalpunk au-Spain...

“We ain’t deserters,” said Cooper, offended, and set his jaw. “We was on a mission.” “It wasn’t really a mission, you know that perfectly well,” interrupted Harris, shoving his way forward. “But it was important we found the Major! …more important than that fool’s job we were s’posed to be working on, anyway,” admitted Cooper, refusing to show any fault on his part. Sharpe stared at him in mixed confusion and dismay, and Harris determined that he’d speak his piece more fully this time. “Well, you see, it was that you up and vanished, and so we figured that we ought to go and find you.” “And it’d be helpful, wouldn’t it, if we did!” put in Perkins. “We didn’t mean to be gone long,” said Hagman, the only one out of the four of them to display even a smidgen of guilt. “And we wouldn’t have been, if he hadn’t—“ “—if you hadn’t broken into the—“ “—well, you’re the one who—“ “—you and your damned rum—“ “…and that’s how we went and got ourselves arrested,” finished Harris, as if Sharpe had been able to determine the slightest through-line of truth in the cacophony of conflicting stories. “But we got out again, as you see.” The four Chosen Men, the last remnants of Richard Sharpe’s final command, looked at their officer proudly, quite as if they expected to be congratulated for their unexcused jaunt off from the army and their trip in through one side of a prison and out the other.

...than to take that whole journey through the soggy and sorrowful perspectives of Keith 'frequently is a cat against his will' Windham and Ewen 'really would not like to be an eagle anymore' Cameron...

The next day dawns misty and damp, a clinging curtain of fog folding itself around the two travelers. The sick, dizzy feeling that comes with transformation takes far longer to leave than is typical, and so he remains prone beneath the overhang of rock as his cramped muscles slowly ease. He had cared little for where he fell as the morning’s shift took him off his feet, sprawling to lie on his side with one hand fallen in the now-cold ashes of the previous night’s fire. Despite the scrap of shelter provided by the outcropping of stone, the thick wetness of the air has already seeped into Keith’s hair and clothes, and as a tendril of wind brushes across his back, he finds himself shivering enough to set his already-strained body to aching. “If this is summer, Ardroy…” he mutters, knowing that his words will be neither finished nor heard. The mere suggestion he has put forth inspires a wholly new fear in him — where shall each of them be come winter, and will the curse still bind them together when the seasons have made their turn? Keith laughs cheerlessly, stretches out a hand to feel the rain against his palm. Damn this country, damn this war, damn whatever fate had been cruel-handed enough to serve him so poorly…. Catching his words close again, he stops himself before he can finish. One thing at least, he cannot curse, and that is Ewen Cameron.

...so yeah! you see the tonal shift between these two.

[kosmicsandshoes]

How susceptible are the 3p! Crew to Nogla's powers?

In the 3p! universe, Nogla's family was gifted by some old pagan gods long ago with the power of manipulation. With mere words, he's able to command most people to do anything his heart desires. Since he, obviously, uses his power all the time (mostly to his own benefit, or simply because he's bored), that means those around him fall to the powers too. But some members are more resilient than others, and here's the explanation for them, on a scale of 0 to 3 (0 being not at all affected, 3 being affected massively);

-3p! Vanoss: 1

3p! Vanoss, while starting out in universe as just a regular owl guy, was heavily experimented on by 3p! Basically. So much so that it caused his feathers to go black from stress, and killed any and all people skills he had, making him naturally distrustful of anyone and everyone. He gets frightened very easily, and as a result, lashes out by biting or clawing. It's extremely difficult to get him out of this frenzy, even for 3p! Terroriser (who's essentially trying to train him to be a guard dog), so Nogla's ability comes in handy. Like I said though, Vanoss is extremely distrustful of everyone, so he doesn't always calm down right away, but he can still be convinced to calm down regardless.

-3p! Terroriser: 0

No matter what universe he's in, Brian is 100% robot. Being a slightly more advanced model, especially a narcissistic one that's extremely susceptible to negative human emotions, you'd think he'd bend to Nogla's wills. But he doesn't. He can't. There's numerous amounts of code he was embedded with (even before his chip took a detour) that prevent any sort of verbal and emotional manipulation. That's why Nogla keeps him around, he tries to find ways of cracking the mechanoid's code so he bends over backwards for him just like everyone else does.

-3p! Basically: 3

While criminally insane and chronically evil, at the end of the day, Marcel is still human. Most humans are extremely susceptible to the powers of manipulation. That is how Nogla's family became so powerful in the first place.

3p! Wildcat: 2

Tyler is kinda in the same boat as Marcel, where he is only humane. The only reason he's not at a full 3 is due to his observant nature. He's able to resist the manipulation a little bit due to his ability to pick out when Nogla will attempt to charm anyone, and he can walk away before that even happens.

3p! Moo: 3

Same as Marcel, he is just human. He's a bit more easy to command, due to his habit of playing dumb to save his own skin.

3p! FourZer0: 0

3p! FourZer0 was once human, but not anymore. Not really, anyway. He's a zombie. Marcel reanimated the lifeless corpse of his best friend, only to find that his brain was alive just enough to keep his body alive, which in turn meant he was just alive enough to be able to learn basic tasks, like holding trays or standing on specific platforms. Without the ability to think for himself, this means Scotty cannot be manipulated by Nogla at all. At least until Marcel figures out a way to revive his brain, that is.

-3p! Delirious: 3

3p! Delirious is sort of an enigma. No one knows whether he's human or not, and he stays mute by choice. As such, we can only assume he's just as susceptible to Nogla's manipulation as everyone else is, or he just has no qualms with Nogla's suggestions (see- orders) and follows them to a tee.

-3p! Cartoonz: 1

3p! Cartoonz is an ancient demonic entity that dwells in a swamp and has been summoned and banished numerous times. It's a given that he's not very susceptible to Nogla's manipulation; but it's not impossible for Nogla to command him, it just takes a lot of time and charming.

-3p! Lui: 2

Lui is a chronic hypochondriac, and he automatically assumes the worst outcome of everything. He's similar to Tyler in that vein, where due to his cautious and paranoid nature, he can resist Nogla's manipulation a little bit. But, he's only mortal, and thus he can still fall victim to Nogla's will; when Nogla does catch him of course.

3p! Ms. Vixen

Considering her history with the 3 psychos across the hall, Lanai is naturally more mentally fortified against Nogla's power. She's snapped herself out of a command before, and she will do it again. However, being able to be manipulated at all lands her at a solid 2.

[martyrbat]

^^ guy that deserves to get fucked with his ex boyfriend's gun

[lawful-evil-novelist]

I've noticed I tend to give Rizzen's kids an insect/arachnid and at least one surface animal to represent them.

Like I use butterflies and foxes as shorthand for Nalfein, then scorpions and jackals for Dinin, and moths, cats, and snakes for Maya.

I found it an interesting observation.

[vanosslirious]

I was rewatching Vanoss & Lui's video, Into The Pit, and Evan's little fanfic of how he and his friends met as if they all lived in the same area/country and hung out in a ball pit. Lol.

[direwombat]

for the NSFW asks:

can I get some kitxsyb and orgasm denial

and/or some syb and jacob and handjobs/fingering

fla;sfdjasdf;lkjdf had to do both. at once. couldn't resist the idea of the murder ot3 <3

anyway yadda yadda Minors DNI

There are some days where they simply don’t unchain her from the bed. It’s better than being in the cages, Sybille supposes, but it’s just as physically taxing as the trials. Even if the leather collar wrapped around her neck weren’t chained to the headboard, she’d still find it difficult to move. She can’t run if her legs don’t work, and both Kit and Jacob make sure their little “fuck-bunny” stays right where she’s supposed to. 

But she fights back in her own way. They wouldn’t keep her here if she didn’t -- that’s part of the fun. 

Kit’s hand grips roughly at Sybille’s hair, trying to force her further, deeper -- ordering her to get a fucking move on, to let her cum already. “Come on,” she hisses, rolling her hips and raking her nails across Sybille’s scalp.

And Sybille, cocky and operating under the limited, supervised control they’ve granted her, circles Kit’s hole with her tongue before receding to suck on her clit. She gives a small hum, and stares up at her, docile and doe-eyed, as if she has no clue what Kit’s talking about. 

Jacob huffs a laugh behind her, and a large, warm hand comes to stroke down her spine. She arches her back to the touch and he murmurs a soft, “Good girl,” before he leans over her to capture Kit’s open and panting lips into a kiss. 

“Hold her--fuck,” Kit groans. “Hold her down.”

A low sound rumbles in Jacob’s chest and before she realizes it, both of Sybille’s wrists are snatched up by one of Jacob’s and she’s flipped over onto her back. She barely has time to breathe out an inarticulate, “Wha--?” before Kit’s legs are straddling her head and she eases herself down onto Sybille’s face, smothering her with her pussy. 

“Come on, Bunny,” she says, reaching forward to run her hands down Syb’s body, groping at her tiny breasts and pinching her nipples. “Wanna cum all over your face.” 

Sybille groans, her eyes fluttering shut and she works her tongue against Kit while she grinds against her face. Kit’s thighs squeeze her skull when she moans again, this time from Jacob releasing her wrists and instead using one hand to hold her legs open while the other slips two fingers easily into her dripping cunt.

He crooks his fingers, stroking roughly against her walls and she lets out a muffled shout.