cursed, cast, cat
Hi, lovebirds!!! It's been a minute since I've posted frogshow fic on here, but this spooky au concept and @themissakat's wonderful art of it simply will not let me rest (they helped me brainstorm for it and the stuff they've made is absolutely GORGEOUS - check it out here and here if you haven't already). I'm planning on adding more to this au (everything on here will be tagged under #cc au), so you'll see more of it soon, and this short bit is just the beginning! With all that said and done, the fic is below the cut! Hope you guys enjoy this new variant of our favorite trio <3
<I found you something,> a teasing voice singsongs through their link, honey-sweet and syrup-thick.
Marcy hums and finishes tying her bundle of herbs together with red twine, stepping up on her chair and then the counter to hang it from the rafters with its companions.
<Please tell me it’s more weeping trillium,> she sighs back. <We’re almost out, and mail order is so expensive - >
<Even better,> the voice purrs, and Marcy can practically feel the smirk in its tone, the ghost of it threatening to pull at her own lips. She rolls her eyes instead as their door creaks open, the bell at the top chiming a cheery welcome.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Marcy says aloud, eyes still focused on getting the twine to fasten tightly around the thick, oaken beam.
<I mean, I’d sure appreciate it if you looked,> the voice resounds in her head, snarky but warm.
“Okay, hang on, let me just - what did I tell you about bringing your kills into the house!?”
Sitting pretty just past the threshold is a rather large cat, brown-coated with darker markings around its face and paws like a Burmese would, but with luxurious, fluffy fur more comparable to a Himalayan. Said coat of fur is matted in places, speckled with burrs and forest detritus that indicate hours of scouring through the underbrush, and pretty gold-brown eyes stare up into hers.
In the cat’s jaws is a lump of brownish something that squirms in her unbothered grip.
<Firstly, rude,> the cat replies, promptly depositing the poor thing on the floor and casually trapping it beneath fluffy paws as it scrambles to get away. <That was one time, and I was half-high on the neighbor kids’ catnip! So not my fault. Secondly, she’s clearly alive.>
“I can see that,” Marcy says, catching flashes of amphibian-looking skin as the creature vainly struggles to free itself.
<And thirdly, I should get pets, because the way this one screamed at me the entire way here practically made me want to kill her.> The cat glares at its paws before letting out a shocked <You talk to your mother with that mouth? … Jeez, forget I asked.>
“Ooookay. Why on earth would you bring… a toad… to me?”
Marcy gets a light chuff in response.
<I’m gonna let you go now, but you gotta stay still or so help me, I will put you in my mouth again and both of us will hate it,> the cat says to whatever’s in its grasp before pulling back to sit on its haunches.
And sitting in the middle of their kitchen floor is the grumpiest-looking toad Marcy has ever seen. It beeps at - well, she isn’t sure who. Perhaps about the situation in general.
“Aw, that was cute,” Marcy coos. The toad beeps again, somehow angrier than before.
Maybe it’s… injured somehow?
<Look closer. Can’t you see it?>
The toad puffs itself up rather defensively under their twin scrutiny.
Marcy looks.
Oh.
She lets out a long, low whistle. “That is one heck of a curse you’ve got laid on you, ma’am.”
<I found her just from the smell,> the cat remarks. <So strong, I tracked her for acres before I got to ‘er. Pain in the nose, really.>
The toad makes a high, affronted little noise at that.
<The curse is what smells, lady, not you!> A pause. <Well, we’re gonna try to help you out, okay?> The mind-voice is soft and reassuring, a blanket to Marcy’s frantic inner monologue even when it isn’t speaking to her directly, and there’s a rush of fondness that Marcy knows the other can feel through their bond.
Amber eyes meet hers again. <This here’s Sasha, and she’s a fellow businesswoman!>
“A businesswoman, huh?” Marcy muses. “Well, lucky for you, I’m never one to turn away custom-ah!”
Marcy loses her footing on the countertop, foot slipping off the edge and sending her toppling face-first toward the floor. The cat dashes forward, surging upward, form growing and shifting and eyes alight with blue until -
A strong, sure arm wraps snugly around her waist, steady and tanned from the harvest sun, while its opposite spans across the backs of her shoulders. Marcy gazes up at her savior, taking in familiar mahogany-colored curls and onyx-dark eyes and full, grinning lips.
“Careful there, darlin’,” Anne says with a wink and a smirk, and Marcy can feel her face heat a bit.
“Ah.”
A leaf falls out of Anne’s hair. Marcy sends it back into place with a flick of her finger and a wink of her own, tucking one of Anne’s wayward curls behind her ear.
Anne splutters, and something sun-yellow and impossibly affectionate fills the cavities of Marcy’s chest. She presses their hands together, a habit-turned-spell, and she feels practically incandescent with the feeling, like she could-
<What the fuck are you guys supposed to be?> A new voice, steel-sharpened and moon-cold, breaks through Marcy’s mind and thus, the moment as well.
Oh. Right. The toa- the girl.
Marcy quickly clears her throat, untangling herself from her partner’s arms even as Anne mentally whines at her.
“Well, Miss Sasha, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Marcy Wu, and I’m a witch!” She exclaims with a dramatic bow and flourish. Sasha somehow seems even less impressed - it’s truly a marvel that she can express such an emotion with a toad’s face.
She gestures to the woman beside her, who rests a calloused hand on her shoulder. “And the lovely lady who brought you here is Anne, my loyal familiar.”
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