@ghouljams Please help Lilac. She's tired enough to not realize Mom and Dad are fucking
Lilac woke to the sound of slamming. Sitting up, she looks around the dark room worriedly. It sounds like it’s coming from inside the cottage, even though the moon is still high in the sky and the wards are up. Slowly, she slides out of the bed Miss Witch was nice enough to let her use during her stay here. Wringing her hands nervously, Lilac hesitantly opens the door of her bedroom to peer out into the hall.
Nothing is there.
Swallowing nervously, Lilac shuffles over to her desk and moves around her grimoire and the tarot deck that she and Miss Witch are slowly working on together. Eventually, she finds the letter opener that Shop Keeper gave her on one of their more recent shopping trips, one made of iron with little pearls decorating the handle. Grasping it tightly, Lilac goes back to her door. Another series of loud thuds sounds through the cottage, making her jump.
Slowly, Lilac pads down the hall, her hand shaking as she figures out where the sounds are coming from. She freezes upon realizing it’s coming from Miss Witch’s room, fear making her stomach plummet.
“Miss Witch!” Lilac cries, running to the room and slamming the door open. Inside, Price looms over Miss Witch in her bed and both adults give Lilac wide eyed looks.
“Lilac!” Miss Witch cries back, shoving Price off her, “What are you doing up, sweetheart?”
“I-I heard slamming,” she replies, “Are y-you okay? He d-didn’t hurt you, d-did he?”
“No,” Miss Witch assures her, giving that nice smile that soothes Lilac every time, “No, he didn’t hurt me. I’m okay. You can go back to bed, okay?” Lilac hesitates, peering nervously at the frowning fae, before slowly nodding.
“G-Good night, Miss Witch,” Lilac repeats from earlier, before pauseing and adding, “Good n-night, Mister P-Price.”
“…Good night, little witch,” the fae offers back with a sigh. Lilac nods again and steps back out into the hall, but not fast enough to miss Mister Price mumbling, “Now, where were we?” There’s an abrupt sound of a hand against skin that makes Lilac jump and almost turn back, before deciding to trust her mentor.
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Soap and Gaz are howling, Roach is wheezing, and Ghost snickers, as they all sit in Price’s bar. Price scowls, holding his whiskey on the rocks against the still red skin on his cheek. Normally, he’d have taken that as his Witch being a brat, but after the little one’s rush to check on her, he can’t really blame her.
“Yuck it up, y’ muppets,” he grumbles, scowling as he lowers his drink enough for a sip before raising it back up to keep the cool glass against his heated skin, “I c’n kick all you out.”
“But ye won’t!” Soap immediately argues with a shit-eating grin. Price grumbles, refusing to acknowledge that he’s even remotely soft on his boys (and his Witch, with the little one becoming important too, but he won’t admit shit). Instead, he sniffs and turns to Soap with a warning look as the younger fae peers over at Moon, again.
“Stop starin’ at m’ bartender,” he scolds, causing Soap to avert his eyes with a pout. Gaz chuckles as Roach claps the catch their attention.
‘You have no one to blame but yourself,’ the little shit signs, ‘Isn’t rule number one to not fuck while a kid’s in the house?’
“Naw,” Ghost pipes in, “That’s rule two for kids in the house. Rule one is no cursin’.”
“Why do I deal with you idiots?” Price groans as Soap and Gaz both start cackling again.
“Because you love us?” Gaz manages to get out between snickers. Price flips him the bird while trying to figure out how to get back into Witch’s bed while her little trainee is still around.
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Loudclan - Moon 29: Part 1
Summer rolls across the valley territories with a vengeance. The sparse mountain territory of Loudclan offers little reprieve from the ever present sun that beats down on the cats. While most patrols rush back to camp to take shelter in the caves during the midday hours, young warriors itch for a chance to prove themselves, and evidence of trespassers provides just that for Fiercestripe's patrol.
A fight breaks out between the patrol and the farm cats. Though the clan-cats are highly trained fighters, save for Fiercestripe they are untested in battle, and are outnumbered more than 2:1. There will certainly be losses.
[clangen: *takes everyone's favorite characters, throws them in a blender, and sets it to liquefy*
me: *twirls my little metaphorical evil mustache* ahh, yes, just as I planned...
For real though, I am so glad to finally get this moon (half of it at least) out to you guys! It is definitely the biggest and most time and skill intensive moon so far and I had a ton of fun drawing it! Unfortunately, that means that the second part is going to take a similarly long while to finish, but I hope that the quality of them makes up for the wait! I hope you guys all enjoy!
If you're a little lost as to who the farm cats are check out this pmv and this family tree]
Edit: It's been pointed out to me that Rosehiptree's age is wrong here. That's my bad, this was a HUGE project and while I did my best to not make any mistakes it slipped past me. She's 14 moons old, the same as Dogwoodmoth, but it would be more trouble than it's worth to change it, given the size of the moon not allowing me to upload images on mobile, so lets all just do me a favor and pretend it says 14 instead of 13. Thanks!
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Prompt 245
Now Danny would openly admit, if only to himself, that he had a type when it came to relationships. If they were strong, if they were a threat to him, then chances were he would develop some sort of crush. It was how he had dated Sam and Valerie (And Johnny & Kitty) when he was a bit younger, and hell, Sam had technically succeeded in killing him, even if partly.
Attraction towards smart people who could kill him was honestly par for the course for a Fenton or Nightingale anyway.
And he’d also admit he enjoyed a bit of time travel, learning about times and culture long before his time, to the point that he could blend in in ancient times just as easily as the time he had been born in. That it was natural to mutter in a language lost to time.
So color him surprise when another man perks up in the bar he had paused to get a drink in, vibrant green eyes gleaming in interest and responds in turn. And not just in the language, but able to keep up when he talks about things that once existed but haven’t been rediscovered yet.
And one thing led to the other, and there might have been some assassins and some shenanigans that end with them both laughing together in an inn and then more and- Okay he has a type alright, and he’s ticking each box! How is that fair?
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