#Swat's Ocs

[swatthefox]

The oompa loompas encircled Victor's blue and round wobbling body. All he could do was watch helplessly as they got closer and closer. His jaw, unable to stop chewing, continuing to work at the gum despite his puffed up cheeks.

Victor’s eyes followed them as they grew closer until they disappeared under the horizon of his ballooned chest. Next he felt their tiny hands touching him. He felt them poking and pushing into him. "We'd better hurry" one softly murmured. "Yeah, poor thing is getting awfully tight!" Another from behind him jabbed at his taut stretched hide. His clothes were just as stretched, trying to contain his blueberry form.

The once cat furrowed his brows and flapped his hands in protest. He tried to do his best to kick his feet but that did nothing but wobble himself around. It was then that Victor noticed a sickly tune began to play. The oompa loompas began to sing as they rocked him back and fourth along his groin. They worked up the momentum to push him in his back. Victor gasped as it felt almost like he was falling. The only part of the ground he could feel was the small bit off it traveling up his rear and towards his back. They left him resting on his backside, his bottom half towards his former fellow tour guests. His tail and tie also drooped towards the floor. The latter of with annoyingly fell over his cheek, a little to close to his eye.

Two of the little orange dogs pushed into Victor’s body and began to roll him around the inventing room. It was all too crazy of a feeling for Victor. Worryingly he just now realized how tight his body has already become. He realized the funny feeling he had gotten at the start of all this was not just a feeling, it was pressure. He could feel the pressure building up inside his body as the gum filled him with more and more tart juice. It all audibly sloshed around inside him as they moved him around.

The song that Wonka’s workers sang was one mocking Victor and his pride. They sang that he now matched the size of his over-inflated ego. They joked about his fate and chastised him for chewing gum. Coldly they sang about how the cat might pop. And as if to simply tease him, the tiny dogs pushed into Victor, sending him rolling around the room. His vision rapidly changing from the ceiling to the floor and back again. His tie flying and flapping about, sometimes smacking him right in the face. Before Victor could crash into a wall or a stray machine, the dogs would quickly get in front of him and stop his momentum. Only to then push into him, sending him rolling all over the room once again. It was as if they were more concerned with parading him around in front of everyone then doing anything to actually help. 

Finally they stopped the blueberry in front of a massive pair of heavy metal doors. These were the very same doors Victor was standing in front of as he ballooned out. The song began to fade out as they pushed the doors open and they began to roll Victor towards the now opened up hall. 

"Help!" Victor tired one last to to beg someone to help him. He didn't even know how someone could, but there has to be something, "Please someone! Help!" He pleaded as the oompa loompas rolled him further and further away. He could only see a small bit of the group as he is being rolled away, but he could tell no one was following behind to help, "I feel like I'm gonna explode…." He bemoaned as he looked down at the blueberry mass he had become. He could feel he was only getting tighter and tighter as he continued to fill and swell.

The group watched as Victor was rolled down the hall and past a corner. His blueberry body being rolled out of site, as if he was never there at all. The oompa loompas were rolling him off to an uncertain fate. Whether saved or damned, he has no one but himself to blame for his fate.

Wonka just stared at where the blueberry cat was and said, "Where is fancy bred?, in the heart or in the head?" The purple clad Fox smirked, "Shall we roll on?" ----

Gave Victor a slight redesign, which of course meant I needed to blueberry him. I had a story about him that I've been waiting to use so here ya'll go.

[annqennel]

That first street boss was so hard for what 😭

[gomzdrawfr]

Thinking about Price who was the one who gave Eira the nickname “Raven” but in all honesty, he felt like she’s more of a black cat. Because every time he reach over trying to do something flirty or romantic she tensed up like a cat with their fur all standing up, and her immediate response is to either run away or smack his hand away going, “WOT are you doing”

“I’m trying to kiss my wife”

“Well you should announce that you want to kiss me first”

“It doesn’t work that way usually”

“Well I’m not normal and you know that”

“Can I kiss you now then?”

“No, my armpits sweating and my heart’s racing, gimme a sec”

“Darlin—“

[palettepainter]

This happens at least several times a month

[trishabeakens]

I offer more of my Swat Kats OC.

[covetyou]

no shortage of sordid

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader, Joel Miller x m!OC (unnamed) rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: very dubious consent (not from reader), oral sex (m receiving from m), voyeurism/exhibitionism, degradation, brief mention of food and allusion to hunger, unnamed m!OC, m/m, Joel is not exactly gay he's just a domineering asshole, drug reference word count: 3.1k summary: Your deal with Joel has changed into something else, something different to when you first came to his door asking for help months ago. But, when you try to take him up on your new arrangement, you're met with something you never expected.

A/N: this was originally a much shorter deleted scene from the start of the dark caress of someone else. I took it out because it was too much and after writing that chapter I told myself I would avoid writing threesomes for as long as possible, because god damn it there's too many body parts. well, me, fuck you, this is threesome adjacent and not technically a threesome at all.

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Six days. That's how long it takes for you to cave and admit you want him. It takes you another two to do anything about it.

The first time you make the trip to Joel's apartment, no pills necessary, you're faced with silence and a door that won't open.

With an hour break between your jobs the next day, you make another attempt. But, you barely make it through the market when you see him trailing behind Tess, hulking figure parting the crowd with ease. You don't stop to see where they're going, instead choosing to turn on your heel and head back the way you came. The less you know, the better. Using the cards he handed back to you nine days ago, you stop by a street food vendor on your way to your next job, eating your first hot meal not only of that day, but that week, the warm food soothing more than just the emptiness in your stomach.

It takes you much longer to convince yourself to try on the third day. Your thoughts hadn't immediately gone to Joel Miller that morning. You had toyed with going for a walk, with seeing if you could pick up more work. But soon your hands ache, bones creaking in their joints as you clench them once again, trying to stave off the want in your belly with the pinch of nails digging into your palms.

Fuck it. You're going. Whether he's there or not, the need to get out of this apartment far outweighs the desire to stay warm inside it.

So, one gray trudge across a gray Boston to a gray apartment block later, you're at his door. Again.

Only this time there's not silence on the other side.

You can hear a murmur - undoubtedly Joel by the heavy rasp of a wry laugh that follows it - and a garbled whimper.

And, of course, you could leave. You could turn your back and leave Joel up to whatever it is, whoever it is, he's doing in there, but you don't. You knock, wanting him to know that even if he's occupied, you showed up. You came to him, not for pills, but for sex. For want, for desire, for the ease of the ache between your legs and the itch in your palms that just won't quit no matter how much you make yourself come.

Even with company, he doesn't make you wait long.

So it's not that you're not expecting the shuffle of two sets of feet. Or the thud on the door, heavy and dull like something big had caught itself before falling down. You knew he wasn't alone and, after all, the only thing you could really expect when visiting Joel was that nothing would be as expected.

No, that's not what surprises you at all.

What surprises you is when the door drifts open a fraction, a disembodied hand reaching through and pulling you through the gap, dragging you inside. What surprises you is tripping over his shoes, only they're not his shoes, the feet turned the wrong way up to belong to the all too familiar man standing before you.

What surprises you is seeing a man on his knees in front of Joel Miller.

It surprises you so much, you don't even notice as the door clicks shut and the hand that dragged you inside pulls you once again to stand at his side.

From here you can get a full view. There's a man on his knees in front of Joel. Joel's pants are unbuckled and pulled low on his hips. And then, the entire scene becomes very, very clear.

There is a man on his knees in front of Joel with his cock in his mouth.

So, when Joel looks at you with a glint in his eye, you're suddenly rooted to the spot, staring between him and the man beneath him. A smirk from Joel tells you you've been looking a little too long so, embarrassed and not quite sure what to do with yourself, you spin around, turning to inspect the back of a chair as if it was the most interesting thing in the room, not the man currently bobbing his head up and down on Joel's length.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he drawls from behind you. "Ain't no fun for me if you ain't lookin'."

As you always do where Joel is concerned, you do as you're told, taking a deep breath as you turn back to watch the man swallow down Joel's cock. You'd seen this kind of thing before - turned down the wrong street at the wrong time more than once only to see someone on their knees for someone else, earning yourself a wink or an insult for the privilege. But you never stayed to watch. Yet, here you are, staying and watching either because it was Joel, or because he asked, you weren't too sure.

The why doesn't exactly matter, you figure, not when your cheeks were rapidly heating and the wet patch in your panties was doing nothing but grow.

"Think he likes the audience too," Joel is saying, nodding down to the guy on his knees. "Don't you?"

You can see that he does. There's a hard bulge in the front of his pants, a bulge that looks much harder than the cock currently in his mouth.

"Dick always so hard for a straight guy. Think you like being a cocksucker." Joel gives the man an awkward pat on the head and huffs out a laugh, looking away from him to look back at you.

"Likin' what you see, sweetheart?" he jokes, casting dark eyes up and down your body. He can't see much. It's still fucking freezing, which is no surprise for a February in Boston, and you're still wrapped up against the elements because of it. But you know his gaze is looking through all of it, seeing through the layers straight down to your flesh, to your hard nipples and the wetness between your legs. He raises that infuriating, knowing, eyebrow at you and you roll your eyes.

"'m serious, you gotta keep lookin' or I'm never gonna come," he says then, and you drag your eyes back in an instant. You briefly wonder why - how - he would never come from this until it hits you.

Having a man suck his dick isn't Joel Miller's idea of a good time. Whoever the man on his knees is, he owes Joel. Maybe just like you did, or maybe worse. It doesn't matter, because you're not witnessing a blow job, you're witnessing a fucking business transaction.

And so you laugh - not at Joel, or the man, not really, but at the entire fucked situation and the world that brought you to this place.

"Y'hear that?" Joel growls down at the man. "She's laughin' at you."

Pinching his eyes shut, the man groans, and you swear you can see a dark patch starting to form on the front of his pants. It almost feels wrong, looking at another mans bulge like this when Joel's cock is right there, disappearing in and out of the strangers mouth at a languid pace. You can't even ask his name - his mouth too full to get out more than a garbled moan. Maybe names don't matter either.

Joel's eyes haven't left you, and yours haven't left the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. He's harder now, softness completely gone now that you're here to witness it. Giving and watching a blow job are so much different to what you expected. There's a wet sound in the air, for one. That rhythmic, wet noise of a throat being fucked was usually masked by your own moans, made easy to ignore by the distraction filling your mouth. But here, several steps away, it is loud.

"That's it. Keep your eyes right there," Joel murmurs before pointing to your outer layer. "Unzip your coat, lemme see. Get those pretty tits out for me, sweetheart. Don't mind him. He ain't gonna look. Are you?"

The man groans again, keeping his eyes shut as his head bobs on Joel's cock, taking an impressive amount of him down his throat with each movement. There's a small shake of his head, and while you don't believe him, you find you don't care either. You don't know the man on the floor any more than he knows you, and you have a feeling he's likely to keep his mouth shut once he leaves Joel's apartment today anyway.

A fraction of a second later, you're pulling your jacket open and yanking your sweater up above your tits, baring them to Joel. He murmurs something to himself, fisting his shirt tightly as he holds it up, exposing his belly. It strikes you then how damn distracted you had been every time before now - Joel's fingers, or tongue, or cock working you in such a way that you were brainless and oblivious to the physical affects you had on him. Now, its obvious. Like a man possessed, he watches you with blown eyes, his cock in full hardness now as the man below him works him over with his mouth and tongue.

Dragging cool fingers down your exposed chest, you meet your already pebbled nipples, pinching them and holding back a soft gasp. It's as much for you as it is to get a reaction from Joel, and if he didn't know you were wet before, he does now.

"That's it, play with 'em. And keep watching, sweetheart. Want you to watch when I come down his throat."

It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but certainly not a chore. The man has picked up his pace, sucking and moaning around Joel's length as he slurps it down. He holds back a splutter when Joel's hips buck forward just as you pinch your nipples harder again, squeezing the flesh of your tits in cold palms.

"Fuuck, that's it, keep watchin'. You like that? Bet you want a taste of this dick too, huh?"

You nod, words stuck in your throat as Joel presses the mans head further into his crotch, rocking his hips to fuck lightly into his mouth.

"You needy and dripping over there ain't you?" he growls. He doesn't wait for you to nod, he doesn't need to. "Yeah you fuckin' are. Dirty fuckin' girl, watching my dick gettin' sucked. You like watching, don't you? Say it. Wanna hear it."

"I like it. I like watching, Joel," you say, barely more than a whisper as you become more and more entranced by Joel's cock in the mans mouth.

"Shit. Keep watchin'. Gonna come. Need you to watch."

It's all you can do to hold back a moan, your panties now probably ruined by your dripping, neglected cunt. This was not what you came here for, but watching Joel mumble obscenities and growl filth to you and the man on his knees as he gets his cock sucked was something you never knew you wanted before now. Sure, you want to touch, to play with him yourself. But watching is getting you wetter and wetter without even a finger or the press of your thighs to help you along the way.

"That's it. You keep suckin'. Fuck. Gonna bet you want this load in you not in him, right?"

Nodding frantically, you move a hand to your waistband, a soft plea on your lips, ready to pull your pants down any second. "Please - "

"Fuck - shit - well too bad, sweetheart. You look at that dick gettin' sucked. Shit - gonna come. Look at me. I said look at me."

Your eyes meet his just as they flutter closed. Joel groans a curse, his balls starting to empty into the throat of the man in front of him until he's suddenly tugging the mans hair, pulling his mouth off of his cock. The man gasps, swallowing down what he can as Joel rapidly strokes his spit soaked length, jerking the remains of his spend over the mans face and mouth. His eyes immediately flick to yours, a soft moan having left your own lips the moment Joel started to come, and he groans again, a final spurt coating the mans chin, soaking his facial hair. It's filthy. Not the most filthy thing you know Joel's done, but the most filthy thing you've ever seen him do from the outside. You can't help but stare on in silence, too captivated by the spurts of milky white dripping over the mans face, his eyes still screwed tight. You're aching and desperate to stick a hand down your pants, to feel how wet you are, to touch your clit and make yourself come as you try to hold yourself upright on shaky legs.

Through syrupy blood pulsing in your ears you hear Joel growl down at the man, removing his hand from his hair like it's burned his palm. Then, he's looking to you again, deep brown eyes searching your own before falling down, down to where your hand cups your breast and your other fists the waistband of your pants in a tight grip. He knows - knows that even if you came here already wet and wanting, you were even more so now.

And it's with a smirk and a sharp snap of his fingers that he pulls you back into the room. The man's eyes are open now, avoiding yours as he wipes cum from his face with his sleeve, covertly licking his lips for any remnant taste of Joel. You can't blame him, fuck knows you'd done the same when Joel had swiped a taste of himself over your own lips, but you can't help the jealousy at wanting to taste again too.

It's then you remember your exposed chest, and you yank your sweater back down without another glance to the man on his knees. Joel shakes his head, a shit eating grin spreading across his face as he strides across the room. He goes to the cupboard where you know he keeps a small amount of his stock, rifling through for a second before coming back with a baggy and tossing it down on the floor at the mans knees. He scrambles for it immediately, climbing to his feet and grabbing the door. Joel doesn't look at him again.

"Say hello to your wife for me," Joel calls over his shoulder, and the man scurries away without a word.

Now it's just you and him, his unbuttoned pants the only remaining evidence of what just happened.

You hesitate, partly in stunned silence, partly your brain having turned to liquid between your ears, all coherent thought lost the moment Joel's cum spurted across the mans face. But there's still that unsatisfied ache between your legs, throbbing and making your hand twitch, willing you to reach for him now that he's so close.

Joel sees it, he knows, knows what you came here for and knows what you won't be getting.

"Not today, sweetheart. Couldn't even if I tried," he says gesturing to his spent already dick tucked back into his pants. "Gotta head out again too, so whatever you got goin' on in those panties, you gotta deal with it yourself." He finishes with a wink and a tap to your chin before grabbing a small gym bag from the couch. You hadn't even seen it there, brain too occupied by more interesting things happening in this room at the time.

So it's no surprise, really, when your mouth starts running before your mind can process what it's doing. There's only one thing you're thinking of. One thing, aside from the throb in your core, that you can't stop thinking about, that envy won't let you give up.

"Would you - " your mouth gapes, opening and closing like a fish while your mind stutters and stops. You shouldn't even ask. There's no answer that can satisfy that particular itch. Not as quickly as you'd want it, at least. If he said yes, he'd already said nothing could happen right now, and if he said no, well... there was something about the thought of him denying you that did something to you too. There was no winning.

"Would I what?"

Of course, Joel had already heard. Even as he potters about the apartment, dumping stuff into the bag from places you've not been paying attention to. He stops, prompting you to go on.

"Would you... Would you come in my mouth like that? One time?"

He stares at you with his mouth open in disbelief. "You want me to come in your mouth?"

You nod, your mouth suddenly so fucking dry you can't speak anymore. You'd been salivating, able to practically taste the phantom flavor of Joel's cum on your tongue just a moment ago. Now, it was like you'd been chewing on bricks, tongue sticky and dry and your teeth feeling like an awkward jumble in your mouth.

"Well, shit. Call the press. Respectable good girl wants to be my little cocksucker -"

"Fine, if you're going to make fun, I don't -"

"Woah, hold on, I'm fuckin' with you. I ain't gonna turn down shutting that pretty mouth up with my dick. Gotta do it more than one time though, sweetheart. You around tomorrow?"

Between jobs and your dad having a day off, it would be a few days before you could come back. Shaking your head, you offer up Thursday instead. It's only three days away. You can make it three more days. Right?

"Thursday works for me. Come by in the afternoon. I'll come in that mouth, and then I'll play with that pussy while I get worked up again," he says before adding, with a cock of his head, "Then I'll come in that too."

And you're dumbstruck - the fantasy you concocted in your own head far surpassed by Joel's own, seemingly thought up right on the spot as he maneuvers you out into the hallway.

"See you then, sweetheart."

He pushes you out of the door, fingers electrified where they touch your shoulder. You expect the door to snap shut behind you, like it has so many times before, but he follows you out into the hallway, locking the door behind him. With a wink, he stalks off down the corridor, legs carrying him out of the apartment block too quick for you to keep up.

Later that night, alone in bed and wondering how the hell you're going to last two more days like this, you rub yourself stupid to thoughts of Joel's cock in a mouth that isn't yours.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

[novakyuu]

Eltanin: the dragon star 🐲 💚✨️

[dominiquelucalover]

Unpacking Regina Stern

Dominique x OC | Part One |

Summary: Regina has come to Street, and S.W.A.T., for one reason and it's time to find out why.

CW: death threats, discussions around missing and murdered people.

“What do you mean someone wants you dead?” Street asked, his eyebrows scrunching up. “What did you do now?” 

“Why do you automatically think this is somehow my fault?” she asked, her face twisting into one of offense. “Someone wants to kill me and you think that I just had to do something for that to happen? Wow, nice to know you have such great faith in me.” 

It was Street's turn to get defensive, “You know that's not what I meant. But you have a habit of sticking your nose into other people's business, which usually gets you in a lot of trouble.” 

“You say that like it isn't my job,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Or yours.” 

“That's different,” he said pointedly. 

His teammates around them watched with puzzled expressions, wondering if they should step in to stop the squabbling or let them carry on. However, they need not worry for long because Hondo and Deacon walked over as they heard the words being thrown back and forth. Hondo looked at Luca and Chris for answers but they looked just as lost despite knowing slightly more than he and Deac did. 

“Alright, alright, cool it,” Hondo said, causing Street and Regina to quiet down. “What's going on? Who are you?” 

Appearing more comfortable with Street there, she put out her hand to shake and Hondo took it. “Regina Stern.” 

Tan looked up. “Where have I heard that name before?” 

“I'm a reporter for Real LA Magazine. You've probably seen my exposes. I also run an online blog called ‘Unsolved but Not Forgotten’,” she said, turning to look at him. She grinned. “You must be Tan.” Then she looked at the team leader. “And your Hondo.” 

“How do you know that?” He asked, slightly amused but on edge. He put his hands on his belt and tilted his chin up, eyeing her suspiciously. 

She turned and put a hand on Street's shoulder. “Jimmy here just loves talking about you all.” She looked at Deacon and nodded. “Based on that ring on your finger, you must be Deacon.”

She had already been introduced to Chris and Luca, who were watching their teammates' unease melt away. Though they were somewhat entertained by her nature, their minds were spinning with one question. If Regina was such a savvy and intelligent woman, how'd she end up on someone's hit list? 

“She's Reggie, man, and she's here because someone wants her dead,” Luca told the other gentlemen, who looked at her a little surprised. “Mind telling us what's going on?”

She sighed and nodded, but before she could speak, Hondo offered her a more private place to talk. She thanked him and let him and the others lead her to an empty office. They sat down at a small table and Street sat beside her, across from his team leader. He watched her carefully, eyes hard and protective. 

She seemed a little more apprehensive to speak now that everyone was watching her, which seemed odd for a journalist, but the circumstances couldn’t be easy to talk about to people who were essentially strangers. Street reached out and rubbed her back. “It's okay. I trust them and so can you.” 

She looked at him and gave an appreciative smile. 

“It started a few months ago,” she began, taking a deep breath. “I was asked to help spread the word on a missing person's case, post about it on my blog and socials, ya know? But, I like to dig deeper, go to the places the person was last seen, interview anyone that might have been there at the time, get an idea of what could've happened. I don't just report the news of a death or disappearance, I like to get to the bottom of things. I didn't minor in criminology for nothing.” 

Hondo nodded along as he listened to her, taking in what she was saying. “Who's missing?” 

“A man named Lawrence Harold. He's a husband and father, a brother, a son,” she said, looking at him with strong, determined eyes. As she spoke about Lawrence, her tone shifted and commanded to be heard. “He disappeared over a year ago and his family refuses to believe he took off and abandoned them, and I believe them. Something happened to him, but the detectives on the case have no evidence to prove it and are dried up on leads. The family feels as though they aren't doing enough. That's why they came to me. They recently upped the price of the reward for information on the case and asked if I would post about Lawrence. I agreed.” 

“But you didn't stop at just posting about him,” Chris said. 

Regina shook her head. “Of course not. I needed to do more.” 

“You know that's a dangerous game,” Hondo said.

“Yeah, you're not a detective,” Street added. 

She glared at him. “I know that,” she said, then looked at Hondo. “This isn't my first time. I've done it before. I've helped find lost kids. I've led search parties. I've organized fundraisers for families who've lost their loved ones. Trust me, I know how hard and dangerous it can be, but this is the first time I've ever gotten something like this.” 

She opened her backpack and pulled out an envelope, holding it out to Hondo. He took it and opened it, pulling out a single sheet of paper. He read the message - written in fat red letters - aloud. It said: STOP SEARCHING OR YOU'RE NEXT BITCH. 

“Makes me think Lawrence is dead,” she continued. 

Hondo looked up at her and bluntly stated. “This is a threat.” 

“Yeah, I get a lot of them, usually online,” she told him. 

“What makes this one different?” Deacon asked, searching for her worry and why she came to them. To Street.  

“It was mailed to my house,” she said and Street looked at her, angry and protective.

“What? They know where you live?” 

“Yeah, they do,” she said, looking at him, “Now you see why I'm freaked out.” 

Despite her words, she appeared calm and collected. However, the trained eyes in the room noticed the way she played with her hair. Usually a flirty notion, it was obvious she was using it as a self-soothing tactic. As her fingers raked through her blonde hair, she threw it from side to side every few minutes. She was on edge but tried not to let it show. 

“Well, there's a return address on here, we'll check it out,” Hondo said, standing up. 

“I already did,” she said, stopping him in his tracks. “I went there.”

Street looked stressed. “Why would you do that?” 

“Because it's an abandoned shopping mall,” she told him, huffing. “One that's been set for demolition for the past three months, so unless someone is stupid enough to sleep in a hollowed out, creepy shopping center with a caved-in roof that's gonna been torn down, I think it's empty.” 

“You are unbelievable,” he said. 

She rolled her eyes. “Say that to the mirror.” 

“This isn't helping,” Deacon said, sighing. They'd get nowhere if Street kept insulting and questioning her. Yeah, she seemed to do some odd things when her life was in danger, but could any of them really speak against that? They were S.W.A.T. They put their lives at risk every day. 

“I'm sorry,” Regina said, looking at everyone apologetically. “I just… I'm scared. This is the first time a threat has ever felt personal.” 

Chris sat on her other side and rubbed her shoulder gently. “It's normal to feel scared. Besides, you came to the right place. We can totally help you.” She looked at her team. “Right, guys?” 

“I'm gonna square it away with Hicks, but yeah, we're gonna help you, Regina,” Hondo said, nodding to her affirmatively as if to say you have my word. 

He turned to the rest of his team, holding the letter and envelope out to Deacon. “Deac, you and Luca get to work on figuring out where this came from. Tan, Street, I want you to get the case file on Larence Harold and go over it.” 

Street stood up, looking at Hondo almost worried. “I'd like to stay with Reggie if that's okay.” 

“Uh-uh, you two need a break from each other,” he said, pointing between the two of them. “Chris will stay with her. I want them to go through the online threats and weed out any that could be from whoever wrote the mailed one.” 

Street sighed and nodded, then looked at Regina. “Think you can handle that?” 

“I think I'll manage,” she said sarcastically and pulled out her laptop from her bag. She obviously came prepared.

“Alright, let's get to it, people,” Hondo said, leading his men out of the room. He parted from them shortly after, making a b-line for Commander Hicks’ office. 

As they walked along, Tan clapped Street on the back. “Damn, for a minute there, I thought she might bite your head off, man. You two fight like an old married couple.” 

“Ew, try again,” Street said. 

“Why? You don't find her attractive?” 

“She's pretty, but no, I don't find her attractive because she's my sister.” 

They all stopped and looked at him, shocked. 

“I didn't know you had a sister, man,” Luca said, crossing his arms. 

Deacon looked at him, knowing that Street's childhood wasn't his favorite topic of conversation, so he kept his next question straightforward. “Biological or foster?” 

“Biological,” he said, sighing. “We got separated in the system and she found a family that would adopt her, a really nice, happy family. She didn't want it at first but I kind of talked her into it. I didn't want her going from family to family like I was doing, struggling through it. So. I told her it was okay and that no matter what, I'd always be her big brother.” 

“Wow, that's really sad, man,” Luca said, but that was an understatement. He kept his cool, aware that these were the facts of life, but to imagine even for a moment that teenage Street told his baby sister to go ahead and be a family with someone else was heart-wrenching. 

Street shrugged. “I'm just happy she got to grow up in a stable house and have a normal childhood. Her adoptive parents are great. They invite me to holidays from time to time.” 

“Why didn't they adopt you too?” Deacon asked, a little defensive. 

“They already had a daughter, so they only took in girls from the system. When they got Reggie, they absolutely fell in love with her, as they should,” he explained, “So they adopted her, fostered for another year, then stopped. They got the family they always wanted and Reg got the one she needed.” 

“They still shouldn't have separated you two,” Deacon argued. 

“I know, but I'm okay with it now, really,” he told them. “It was the first thing I ever made peace with about life. So long as she was happy, I was happy.” 

They were all quiet after a moment before Tan said, “And now her life's in danger.” 

Street's jaw tightened as he was reminded of that little fact. “Yeah, and whoever it is threatening her is in for a day of reckoning when I find them.” 

He walked past them all to go call about that case file they needed, his teammates’ eyes all on him. When he was out of earshot, they looked at each other, amazed. 

“A sister,” Tan said, chuckling. “I never would've guessed.” 

“It makes sense, actually,” Deacon said and started walking again, Tan and Luca following suit. “He's protective of her, is hellbent on looking after her-”

“He's been like a hawk watching over her ever since she said she was in danger,” Luca cut in to add. 

“I see the same thing with Matthew and Lila,” Deacon went on. “They're young now, so it's not as intense, but the instinct is still there.” 

“Well, let's do everything to help Regina,” Luca, said, looking serious. “She's Street's sister, so she's family.” 

[swatthefox]

Slow Dance

[atherflame-theconcubus]

Honestly I wonder how Callaway would react to old moon. I can see him reaching out once he hears that they have bloodmoon, asking to meet up to talk and explain things. He doesn’t know what nexus did but he needs to iron out tensions between the family and the human. They can’t risk their being any more enemies

Callaway agrees to meet him, under the condition that he wears things that suppress magic, that Evelyn comes along and he doesn’t try anything funny.

[rogdona]

[dividedsingularity]

Quick Faze sketches, readability may vary.

[rockersboy]

My swat oc (still deciding on a name 😔) and Rocker !!

[trishabeakens]

Do you guys wanna see my cringe Swat Kats OC I made 17 years ago

[cursed-blood-official-blog]

Happy Holidays from Cursed Blood! [18]

artist: @spemmort

[roboyomo]

Oh. Also.

Linn 🤝 Yi Ha-neul

DEBT COLLECTOR

HOHOHO. OHOHOHOOHOOOO > > we are putting More beastlers next to each other like dolls !!!!