#werewolf!Molly

[lightthemaskedone]

WereMolly is on the prowl!! She isnt really running from anything, she just found a pretty butterfly! Maybe she should slow down a bit...

[b00pyb00p]

Werewolf Molly McGee?

[aleprouswitch]

Zeena Schreck, often known as just Zeena, is a musician, writer, spiritual leader, and advocate. She is the daughter of Church of Satan founder Anton Lavey and spent her formative years actively involved with the Church. In the 1980s (during the height of the Satanic Panic age), she and her then-husband, Nickolas Schreck of goth/deathrock outfit Radio Werewolf, were regulars on the talk show circuit where they defended the Church and its principles, often in defiance of Christian religious leaders who were also invited as guests.

Then in 1991, Zeena abruptly departed from the Church of Satan and cut all ties with her father; Nickolas also followed suit. The most widely accepted reason was that Zeena no longer believed in the Church's teachings and realized that her father was nothing more than a fraud. However, there are also rumors of sexual abuse within the Church that Zeena herself may have been subjected to - she gave birth to a son at the age of 13 (Church of Satan leader Stanton Lavey) and the father has never been publicly identified.

As of today, Zeena is an adherent of Tibetan Tantric Buddhism and refuses to be associated with her late estranged father in any sort of way, including refusing to be associated with her maiden name. She and Nikolas separated in 2007 but still maintain an amicable relationship. Currently, Zeena works as a bereavement counsellor with the The Sethian Liberation Movement, an organization that helps deflectors from religious cults heal from trauma and start new lives. She also still makes music, which you can check out HERE.

[tornrose24]

More TGAMM werewolf au doodles, featuring some funny stuff, angst, and FINALLY some sort of reveal of the werewolf that bit Scratch/Todd.

-Had this idea of Molly and Libby needing to get into Andrea's good graces for a bit and then gaining some form of entry in order to have access to her home since there's a library that might have something on how to reverse a werewolf curse. And of course, Libby needed to be in disguise (and is disguised as a kappa for an obvious reason).

-They ended up stealing the book, due to shenanigans.

–Which leads to the reveal of there being only two ways to undo the curse, which invites a lot of angst for those involved.

–Ok.... so Ollie's dad has been tracking a specific werewolf that was targeting the midwest a few years back, and estimates that it might be coming back very soon. All he could gain for his efforts was one photo. However, this particular werewolf seems to show up around the time a very brutal death occurs (and the fact that it happens around a full moon confirmed it was a werewolf) and they were dangerously close to Brighton a few years back... on the EXACT day Todd was biten. I'm sure you can connect the dots on that one.

(Putting a tw for slight body horror. Why? Well... take a look at the werewolf. For one thing, it might not look like it, but that werewolf is actually MISSING a nose).

[bigfootsmom]

you've set me running free by bigfootsmom

explicit • 20.2k • buddie

“What do you need, Eddie?” The warmth of Buck’s words vibrates through his chest and into Eddie’s, making his heart thump against his ribs.

It takes Eddie a second to remember how to find his words. “You— need you.” Eddie holds Buck tighter, pressing wet kisses to the side of Buck’s neck, grinding his hips forward until he can slot the growing bulge in his jeans against Buck’s ass.

Or, the one where Eddie is a werewolf and he’s going into rut.

Read on ao3

[bennydwight]

A dialogue snippet that turned into this:

Standoff (TGAMM Oneshot: Spoilers for season 2)

Summary: Half-feral, trapped in a snare barely big enough for his fluctuating form and Oliver Chen's gun trained directly at his head, Scratch is out of options.

So why isn't Ollie taking the shot?

Intrinsically, Scratch was a pretty simple, lazy guy. He liked an easy routine, a familiar path. The hardest work he did most days was figuring out how to avoid hard work. He didn’t have the patience for strategy (why, when cheating was faster and easier?) and trying to think in multiple directions at once just sapped his strength and made his head hurt. All that variety, all that junk humans did to ‘better their mind’ was just so hard.

Astonishingly, it was made ten times harder when he was near bursting out of a containment unit, a wide barreled gun trained directly between his eyes.

He couldn’t even pinpoint where everything had gone wrong, too much focus funneled into clamping down on a base instinct: trapped in a snare barely large enough for his normal size and his afterlife on the line, Scratch’s scare form had started to take over.

He strained against the effort of keeping his ectoplasm intact, phantom breaths coming in rapid huffs even as his teeth lengthened, spines burst from his arms, his shape swelled and pressed dangerously against unyielding steel and electrons. Somewhere, quietly in the back of his mind and underneath the screaming need to SCARE SCARE SCARE SCARE, he realized dimly that he’d never been afraid of being crushed until now, after he’d gained the ability to phase through objects at will. Well, most objects. Go figure.

So it was here, desperately trying to reign in his higher processes, that through an animalistic red haze Scratch glowered into the eyes of his captor. Ollie stood mere feet away, that biohazard-yellow gun a shield between him and his helpless prey, and Scratch acknowledged a terrible gleam of satisfaction as even now the weapon trembled in the boy’s hands.

Across the other side of the warehouse, behind the orangey shimmer of the Chens’s forcefield, Molly lay prone, the tiny movement of her breaths the only reason any of the Ghost Chasers were still alive. Esther knelt next to her, first-aid kit in hand, expression one of barely-contained terror. Not his doing, but he’d take credit. Maybe next time she’d learn not to chuck a knockout bomb at a child. Well, at him. Molly had taken the metaphorical bullet (not a pretty mental image, given the circumstances), and if anything happened to her then Scratch was going to make all their lives a living hell.

Provided he got out unscathed. Somewhere, out of the thick of battle, Andrea fought to take the snare’s electronics offline, and no doubt June was blocking every attack with equal fervor. And even with legs as long as Libby’s, it would take too much time for her to reach the McGee’s house and bring back Pete and Sharon. Time Scratch didn’t have.

Imprisoned, half feral with the urge to survive, and one finger twitch away from total erasure, Scratch was out of options. Just him and Ollie, and the trap and the gun.

And the father.

Ruben stood, face and hands pressed against the forcefield, vibrating with adrenaline. His attention laser focused to his son, caught on the opposite side with the enemy (that was Scratch, he had enemies now), the shouts of excitement and encouragement died at Ollie’s hesitation and veered distinctly into confusion and urgency.

“Finish it, Ollie, it’s trying to take attack form! End it before it escapes!”

Ollie’s only acknowledgement was the hitch of his shoulders, eyes locked with Scratch in a way that felt like he was missing context. Scratch had seen this boy’s hatred firsthand, he put things on the internet that should not be there, so what stopped him now?

A memory flashed to mind: Molly throwing herself in front of the knockout bomb, and someone shouting ‘NO’ nearby, and Scratch swelled painfully against the snare as a fresh wave of rage tore through his ectoplasm like the hiss from behind his fangs.

Ah. So now he knew.

“We’re so close, Ollie,” Ruben continued to not shut up, voice like fingernails down Scratch’s strained self-control. “Our family’s whole legacy has led up to this! You can give us everything we’ve ever dreamed, just pull the trigger!”

The monster was caged, and still fear shone like a beacon behind Ollie’s eyes. Everything they’d worked for at his feet and he still didn’t move. Didn’t look away.

Scratch was not a smart man on the best of days and now, claws scoring uneven grooves in the ground as their length oscillated with his concentration, he was grossly, hilariously far from his best. “Do it kid,” Scratch snarled, sucking harsh breaths from between gritted teeth. “You know what it’ll cost ya.”

“Do it, Ollie! This is our only chance!”

A long beat passed.

Ollie’s hands shook, but his trigger finger didn’t waver.

From outside, a roar, and then a scream. Good old Geoff. The Chens’s heads whipped towards the door, and their combined fear-smell nearly whited out Scratch’s mind for good.

“Go help June!” Ollie’s voice pitched high with terror, and something else that tugged Scratch’s mind back to clarity. Surprise registered through the darkness clouding his mind as his parents obeyed, gathering a limp Molly into their arms, and a strange quiet settled over the warehouse.

And then, there were two.

Most of the threat and the fear-smell were gone, but Ollie still had a gun to his head and Scratch was still angry. His hue shifted, deepening to a sickly green, mouth stretching wide in a grotesque grin. “So what’ll it be, Ollie? Gonna finish me yourself? Or gonna make your daddy do it for you?” The snare creaked ominously as his growth strained the limits. The ropes of plasma burned fierce red lines through the green, but he barely registered the pain. “Either way, she’ll never talk to you again. Won’t even look at you. She thought better of you, y’know. Tried her darnedest to change your mind. You want her to wake up and find out she failed?”

Ollie’s eyes hardened, and Scratch’s temperature dropped several degrees. He really should’ve known better by now than to make calculated risks, this one might’ve just cost him his life.

Ollie’s hand moved, and Scratch bit back a flinch before watching it dip into a pocket and emerge with a square device. As he pressed the giant, terrifying button right in the middle, Scratch braced for pain.

Instead, the pressure around him retreated, and Scratch floated up into the air. Free.

Free, and alone with the Ghost Chaser, who kept the gun trained on his head even as scared tears pooled at the corners of his eyes.

They stared at each other in a stalemate, Ollie unwilling to put down his weapon and Scratch wobbling between forms as he considered whether to put his uncomfortably pent-up scare energy to good use. Or at least entertaining use.

“Run,” Ollie whispered, and Scratch couldn’t tell if it was a threat or a plea.

The instinct-induced haze lessened. If Ollie took the shot, he’d be disappointing Molly. (Who was he kidding, life without Scratch? He’d be devastating Molly!) But if Scratch proved the Chens thoughts on ghosts right, he’d be doing the same thing.

Ollie hefted the gun higher, looking no keener to use it. “Run,” he repeated.

The easy way out. No lie, Scratch had considered it immediately. Molly was safe enough with the Chens, and all he wanted was to disappear into a dark corner and forget this whole nightmare ever happened. He could run, and they’d be more careful, and this whole debacle meant Molly would stop hanging out with Ollie, and Scratch’s life could go back to normal. Save being on the run. Forever.

(Or until the Chens died out, and with Scratch’s luck this would absolutely turn into a multigenerational blood feud.)

Facts were: he was outed, and so was Molly’s connection to him. They’d never be safe, not while the Chens were determined to cleanse the world of ghostkind.

Scratch took a deep breath and thought of his family, and the last of his spines smoothed and his colour returned to its natural blue and his shape stabilized. It might’ve been easier to go underground, but even these past few months of avoiding their (many, many) ghost traps had triggered an exhaustion that would’ve been called bone-deep if he’d had bones. He didn’t want to put his family through that, and frankly, Scratch was just damn tired. All he wanted was to sleep for a century.

He'd finish this first.

“Look, Ollie,” he started, relieved to find the bass in his voice had returned to normal. “As far as ghosts go, I’m a pretty lazy guy. Rather take a nap, y’know? All that exercise ain’t good for you.”

Ollie’s eyes darted to the side, face screwing up in that ‘um actually’ wince that Molly liked to adopt whenever she annoyed him enough to bring up the flat-earth theory. The first flicker of character he’d shown since this whole standoff started. “Not how that works, but what do you mean?”

Scratch smiled at his mortal enemy, and somehow it felt natural. “Means I’m tired of running, kid.”

 END

[artistcaptainbendy]

You can't tell me this isn't what his first transformation was like.

Werewolf todd belongs to @tornrose24

[experimentjr]

Commission done for @theskullton about their WereMolly AU. These are vampire Libby, zombie Andrea and vampire hunter Ollie.

Thanks for commissioning me :D

[hogwartsthenextgeneration]

Teddy Remus Lupin

Edward “Teddy” Remus Lupin 

Nicknames: Teddy, Ted, Tedward (James)

Sexuality: Demisexual

Ethnicity: 1/2 English , 1/4 Welsh, 1/4 Hungarian

DOB: 11/04/1998

Parents: Remus Lupin & Tonks

Siblings: James, Albus & Lily

Godparents: Harry & Ginny

Best Friends: Yusuf Bashar, Sophia Greene, Imogen Schäfer

Started Hogwarts: 2009

House: Hufflepuff

Wand: Unicorn hair, Ebony, 11 1/2

Patronus: Stag

Boggart: Bellatrix LeStrange

Ex curricular: quidditch beater, VC from 6th year

Best Subject: Transfiguration 

Worst Subject: History of Magic

Hair: Naturally mousy brown but usually wears it turquoise and short and spikey

Eye colour: Light brown

Build: 6ft, average/ athletic

Favourite music genre: Doesn’t have one

Favourite artist: Muse/ Adele/ Post Malone/ Boygenius

Favourite song: Starlight - Muse

Favourite colour: Turquoise/ dusty pink 

Health: Seasonal affective disorder/ heightened senses (son of a werewolf)/ Dissociative Disorder

Career: Auror

Family: Married Victoire Weasley age 27 (2025). They finally became a couple age 19 & 21 after Teddy threw Vic a surprise birthday party for her 19th as she had never wanted to celebrate her birthday out of respect for everyone, especially Teddy who lost his parents on that date. They live in Cornwall, England and have 3 children-

•Matilda Dora Lupin (Female, b. 2028)

•Freya Ander Lupin (Female, b. 2030)

•Aiden Remy Lupin (Male, b. 2032)

[lovelesskiaart]

Vampires & Werewolves, oh my! Happy Halloween! 🎃

[redratt]

realized i have 5 bratoviches

I only have art of 3 of them . . .

Rattler Bratovich, 33, Second in Command of the Family Homestead and local menace. She wasn't Embraced, not like Molly, but is the oldest of the Bratovich girls there and the second-oldest of the 'Kiddos' at the homestead-- the only older one is Elijah, who spends most of his time off the land and looking for meat to kidnap for the Tzimisce. Rattler's fucked up eye lets her see spirits/wraiths/etc if she closes her other eye and focuses and is an implant from Gulo, the Tzimisce who maintains their home.

More Rattler Sketches, because she's a terrible woman and I love her dearly. Rattler is both victim and perpetrator; she's trapped in a situation she had no chance of escaping, and has been made into something truly horrid -- but the fact that she never had a chance to be anything else makes her a bit... tragic. It's one thing to be a monster because you wanted to, but another entirely to be born into a Revenant House-- and in particular, the house with the reputation for being the most fucked up out of them all, you know? She's not a good person by any means, but she is a good character. You've all seen Molly, of course, and she's Bratovich number 2 -- 7th/8th gen Tzimisce, got locked in a shed for a while until she picked up the flesh-warping practices properly, all of that.

Abbot of the Garden Snakes, Molly has a sense of hospitality that makes her a natural for the position. She shares what she has with the rest of the pack, and gets very frustrated when dealing with Cainites who are more selfish. She understands it, but... c'mon.

Then there's Patchwork/Patchcoat "Patch" Bratovich, the Bone Gnawer Hillfolk Ahroun who hates humans, hates the society of Garou, and refuses to listen to a lot of what the Nation proposes. She hates you, if you're a Silver Fang, a Black Fury, a Talon, a Coggie -- she fucking hates you, because where the fuck were you when the Kin-Blooded Bratovich were suffering? Where were you?

Black Furies in particular really make her mad.

Patch fights the Wyrm, but she doesn't have a pack. She doesn't often attend Moots. She refuses to associate with a lot of the Garou of the Nation, because she thinks they're all just fucked up angry failures who don't actually care about the world beyond their narrow view. She does a lot of work with the poor and the suffering, though, and actually knows a few healing gifts. Patch's Rage is fuelled by what she's seen.

When she was first-changed, Ma Bratovich leashed her up and put her in a silver cage. The muzzle and the scars that are burned into her skin left Patch in a near-constant state of Frenzy. It was there that Rat reached out to her and offered something more than just... being imprisoned.

The fourth Bratovich is Mar'yagh, and she's a Black Spiral Dancer Galliard. Not from Molly/Patch/Rattler's branch of the family, Mar'yagh was fourteen when she Changed, and was immediately driven out to a rural Pit where she was made to Dance the Spiral. Mar'yagh seems pretty normal, and actually has a series of gifts to hide her wyrm-taint. She's amicable, ambling, and has a series of good jokes.

But the Rage is there, and the Wyrm is there, and sometimes her head just hurts, you know?

Her personal Patron is Singing Bat.

The fifth and least-developed Bratovich is Winona (Winnie/Wyn) Bratovich. She's either going to be a Hunter of some kind or a Widderslainte, and I'm not too sure what I want to do with her yet.

[pigeonwhumps]

Hunting Night

Sam and Lucan masterlist

Whump Girl Summer day 5: hunted for sport | traditions

@whumpawoman

Taglist: @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @onlybadendings @whumpofdory @haro-whumps @flowersarefreetherapy @enigmawritesstuff @quietly-by-myself

Kara and Edith are hunted as part of a centuries-old tradition.

3.5k

CWs: non-human whumpee, use of silver on a vampire and werewolf, slavery, hunting for sport, bounty hunting, mentioned murder, hate crime, discrimination, dehumanisation, burning, taunting, bound, broken bones, painful transformation, whumpee thinks caretaker is new whumper, caretaker turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, implied past rape, mentioned panic attack, branding, grief, vigil mention, scared whumpee, expectation/fear of punishment, sadistic whumpers, gore, drinking blood

She should've known better.

That's all Kara can think as the bus grinds to a halt yet again. She should've known better. Tonight's Hunting Night, and everyone knows you don't go out on Hunting Night. Even humans don't, if they can help it, because it's so easy to pretend that, well, you attacked them because you thought they were a glamoured faerie or an untransformed werewolf and it wasn't your fault, really, and although Hunting Night is illegal the police don't care enough to even give cautions. No non-human would ever report an attack anyway.

They should never have gone out. Certainly not in the late afternoon. But the fridge broke, and Edith's blood apparently tastes bad (she won't say so, but the look on her face was proof enough), and she went so long without anything at all that Kara never wants her to make do with sour blood. Kara's food is going off too, she won't be able to eat it all before it's rotten. And on top of all that, Edith seems to believe it's her fault, somehow.

So they had to go and buy UHT mini blood cartons, and ice, and something for Kara to make Edith feel better, and Edith panicked because they were selling blood cartons laced with silver for punishing your vampire (her reading skills are still very rusty, Kara's going to kill whoever fed her them in the past), and then some people's treatment of Edith had reminded Kara of her own slavery and she'd had a panic attack, and everyone was staring and they'd almost left half the shopping behind in their rush to leave before someone called the cops.

And now they're stuck in a traffic jam. They're unlikely to make it back before moonrise, which is when the hunt starts despite being well before sunset, and this year's Hunting Night falls on a full moon.

She checks her watch. 19:00. Definitely won't make it back.

She presses the button, waiting anxiously for the bus to stop.

"We gotta get off an' walk, baby," she mutters to Edith, standing in front of her – slaves aren't allowed to sit in seats on buses if even one passenger objects and she hates it. "Moonrise."

Edith's eyes widen and she follows Kara off the bus when it finally stops, full rucksack on her shoulders.

Kara takes her hand and hurries along the pavement, taking a quick turn into an alley she knows far too well.

"Okay. Right. It ain't far, that bus takes the long way round, but we might not make it 'ome in time. If anyone attacks, Edie, run like 'ell. Ya got it? I can defend meself, jus' get outta 'ere."

"Yes, Mistress Kara."

Kara... isn't sure Edith will leave, actually, but if she pushes she'll get cowering or begging or freezing that they don't have time for, so she just nods.

"Good."

They're close when Edith does actually freeze, glancing up at the sky. Kara feels the heart palpitations she always gets when her body's partway between one form and another, at the start of her transformation, body chemicals shifting. She drops Edith's hand and backs away slightly, gritting her teeth.

Her bones and muscles crack as they break and reform, and at first it's not too bad, it's a bit like stretching, but then it gets stronger and stronger until she can't do anything but let out an ear-splitting scream. Halfway through, the scream turns into a howl, as her snout lengthens, vision changing.

She pants as she feels the aftershocks of the change, slowing down but still there. Edith is frozen entirely, eyes wide.

Vampires really don't smell good.

Kara's instincts are more animalistic like this, but as she's got older, she can recognise people, control herself a bit. When she was fifteen she may well have attacked Edith. Or perhaps not – the vampire is definitely in her pack.

Someone laughs from the end of the alleyway, and she shrinks into the shadows, Edith following.

"You might be hiding but I know you're down there! We heard you change! Come out, come out, little werewolf."

Kara sees them. There's five, and they smell like sweat and cheap aftershave and silver. And there's bloodlust in there too, excitement, the thrill of the hunt.

In a fluid motion, she grabs Edith, swings the vampire onto her back, and bounds the other way down the alley. She just runs, with no regard to where she's going. She has to get away.

She skids to a halt as the smell of silver hits her nose, so much of it, and more humans too. She hears a *thud* and hopes that Edith's okay. She emits a low growl and backs away, keeping an eye on the three heavily-beweaponed humans, low to the ground with ears pinned flat to her head.

Then there's laughter behind her, humans she somehow missed, and she yelps as her tail is pulled, spinning to see the five humans from the other alley.

"You were right about blockading these alleys. Two already. Tonight's gonna be a good night, I can feel it in my bones."

Kara snarls, lip curling so they can see her teeth. An instinctive movement that shows one of her greatest weaknesses to the hunters. What seems to be their ringleader guffaws.

"Oh, this is gonna be easy. It's no fun, it can't even fight back."

"Still adding it to the tally though. We've got ourselves a stray werewolf. How many points is that again?"

Edith steps between her and the humans with a growl. "Stay away from her."

Two humans grab Edith as she swings a punch, pulling her off to the side and throwing her rucksack and ear defenders into a skip. She struggles desperately, more than Kara's ever seen. More than she thought possible from Edith. But despite the vampire's strength, she doesn't manage to get away before silver ropes are wound around her arms, binding them together. Then four of the humans can hold her still.

"Guard-class vampire," reports one, looking at her bracelet. "Dunno whose it is though. Kara... Evans."

"Who cares? Must be a runaway. We need to mark these two for proof it was us."

"Might be safer to just mark the bodies."

"Now, where's the fun in that?"

Kara tries to rise slightly, in preparation for another escape attempt, but before she can even process it her skin's burning. Her snout's first, and then her body and she tried to shake it off, scratch it but that just burns her pads, it doesn't come off and she howls in agony. She can't hear or feel anything else beyond the burning that's everywhere, all-encompassing, completely overwhelming. It's so much and she can't stop it.

_

Edith watches, horrified, as the diluted silver hits Mistress Kara. She howls and immediately tries to get it off, scratching at her fur and turning endlessly.

She won't manage it. It'll burn and burn and eventually burn through skin and flesh and bone if it's left on long enough, that liquid sticks, and then her arms and legs will dissolve, and they'll taunt her, place blood where she could reach it if she had arms, if she could stand. And, well, if she only managed to control herself better, this wouldn't be happening. She might even be allowed some of that blood. A few licks off the basement floor would be enough, please, she's not sure she can keep going.

She hears an animalistic whine and jolts. She's not there, she's in the present, with the hunters, and that's just as dangerous.

Her arms are burning from the rope but it's not about her. Mistress Kara is being hurt and the hunters are going to kill them both and there's nothing she can do about it.

The hunters' laughter is raucous without any ear protection, but she can't do anything to help and she isn't about to show them that it hurts. She knows what humans do when she shows weakness.

"It's not going anywhere now. Time for the marking. Hold the vampire's face."

Edith's head is grabbed by multiple hands, all over, suffocating, sweaty hands and too much contact as a circular silver thing that looks like a branding iron is positioned above her cheek. She's been branded before, but she can't get away as the silver stamp comes down on her cheek.

The pain takes her breath away, she can't even scream as the silver's pressed in and held until it's nearly burned through her cheek.

"Stinks."

"Yeah, well, get used to it or go home, there's gonna be a lot tonight. Now for the werewolf. Paint it. It is an animal, after all."

A can's chucked across and some of the humans guffaw as one of them starts to spray.

"Should tag their ears as well. We're slaughtering them like livestock apparently, after all. Isn't that what those activists say?"

"Those idiots should be hunted too. Their views are too backward to let them live."

Amanda. They're talking about Amanda and others like her. That's the final straw for Edith. The hunters have slackened their grip and she focuses, ripping her arms free. She grabs the nearest hunter and sinks her fangs into his neck.

Oh, she hasn't had blood directly from a human in so long. Shame it's tainted by bitter alcohol but it's so warm, warm and pumping. She doesn't have time to drink the full hunter, instead turning to the next.

She's quick enough that they don't start screaming and fighting until she's on her third hunter.

It all becomes a bit of a blur after that. She comes out of a daze, stomach full of warm human blood, injured a little possibly, when the remaining hunters are all dead on the ground.

Good.

She's surprised she managed it actually, she thought she was trained better. But Mistress Kara was in danger.

Edith approaches Mistress Kara, careful not to touch any silver on the way. She's still pawing at the diluted silver, and Edith touches her snout cautiously. She shouldn't touch her owner in this way but she has to. The silver burns as she attempts to brush some off.

"Mistress Kara? Are you here?"

Mistress Kara yips at her, still pawing at her snout. The hunters didn't manage to get much spray paint on her before Edith killed her, that's good. About the only good thing, aside from them not being dead.

"We need to go home. Can you lead the way? This vampire does not know it."

Mistress Kara stops pawing herself and stares at Edith, and Edith repeats herself calmly. After a few minutes she seems to understand.

Well, almost.

She sniffs the air, and limps her way over to a large skip. Edith follows.

Oh. She didn't realise where Mistress Kara's belongings had gone. She thought the hunters had taken them or maybe she just hadn't thought at all. She pulls them out, swinging the backpack over her shoulders, holding her ear defenders in one hand.

They're not too bad. A bit smelly, and damp, but they'll be okay.

"Thank you, Mistress Kara."

Mistress Kara yips again, pressing her snout up against Edith's palm, and starts limping down the road.

Mistress Kara was right earlier, it isn't far, and Molly comes bounding up when Edith unlocks the door. She strokes the dog's head and drops the backpack in the hallway, grateful at least that they didn't bring Molly. Molly isn't hurt.

"Hello Molly. Mistress Kara, Edith is going to wash your fur, if that is acceptable, and then comb it out. It should get the silver out. Edith has done it on hair before, but not fur." Edith pauses momentarily. "Edith does not know how much you understand in this form, but please be lenient on this vampire. Edith understands this vampire needs to be punished for pretending she has agency but it is an emergency."

Mistress Kara whines, and Edith leads the way to the bathroom, Mistress Kara's snout pressed into her cupped hand. She wonders whether it's something to do with the familiar smell, if it's somehow distracting or grounding.

"Edith will make the shower warm but you do not have to wait, Mistress Kara." She strips down to her underwear and picks up the grooming brush, stepping into the shower. The water is freezing when she turns it on, but she stands under it anyway, washing off the silver that's made its way onto her. Slaves shouldn't waste warm water on themselves. But she has to wash herself, because it's more effective to help Mistress Kara if she is not also burning.

That's what she tells herself anyway. She shouldn't be cleaning herself without Mistress Kara's permission, if Mistress Kara wants her to stay with silver on her for any reason that's her prerogative. Mistress Kara will punish her later for her audacity, she's sure. She has to.

Mistress Kara bounds into the shower before it's warm and stands under the shower, turning round and round in circles. She lets out a happy yip.

"Edith will brush your silver out, Mistress Kara," says Edith, "will you stay still so this vampire can?"

Mistress Kara stills, vibrating in place and sticking her snout out. Edith takes the hint and carefully rubs it with a cloth, taking care to reach everywhere and get out every fleck and drip of silver.

The bright red burns stay. They'll be there when she transforms back to human form, Edith knows, and she only hopes they don't scar.

Then she cleans Mistress Kara's ears, careful of the burns that make her owner let out quiet, pained whines. It's not fair, she's so nice, far nicer than she should be to a vampire like Edith, but she keeps being hurt.

"Edith is going to brush your fur now if that is acceptable."

Mistress Kara tilts her head up into the stream of water, washing her eyes out. Edith crouches down and brushes her methodically. She uses Mistress Kara's nice shampoo and conditioner, careful to catch all the snags in her fur and all the silver, liquid and solid and scraps. So many strands are coated and Edith has to scrape them out by hand. It hurts but she doesn't mind, it's what she's for. The pain's nowhere near as bad as the burning brand on her cheek anyway. The transferred silver flecks are washed off now, but it still burns.

She's trying not to think about the brand. If the silver had been pressed there much longer she'd have a hole in her cheek, and she could start to heal but she can't drink without Mistress Kara's permission. Her healing will be slower, then.

She gently holds the werewolf's paws up as she cleans them one by one, gentle with the toes that have been cut, scrubbing the edges of her pads thoroughly. There's not so much silver on them, only the bits she transferred herself, but anything on the ground could've been covered in silver, Edith doesn't know. So she cleans everything carefully.

"Is there anything else this vampire needs to clean?" Edith asks uncertainly. In answer, Mistress Kara jumps out of the shower and shakes herself off. Edith rubs her with a towel, and then quickly towels herself off and dresses. Mistress Kara won't want to see her naked if she doesn't have to. Right? Right.

She is not sure where the burn cream is kept, unfortunately. She hopes Mistress Kara can forgive her.

"You should rest, Mistress Kara. You will be all right now." Mistress Kara nudges her hand, and she's taken aback, despite all the past kindness she's received from her. "You would like this vampire to come with you?" The werewolf yips. "This vampire will come then."

Mistress Kara bounds ahead and jumps onto her bed. Edith tries to lie on the floor or at least at the foot of Mistress Kara's bed, but Mistress Kara tugs at her until she's in the middle, the werewolf curled around her.

It's very warm and comfortable, and Mistress Kara falls asleep quickly. Edith has to resist the urge to join her – although she has finished most of her job, she cannot leave anything incomplete. It doesn't matter how little she's slept recently, or how comfortable she is here, she is a slave and needs to finish working before she's allowed to rest. Besides, Mistress Kara didn't say she was allowed to sleep.

_

There's sunlight filtering through the curtains when Kara wakes.

Her memories of the night before are vague at first, although she remembers the terror and pain. The longer she's awake in her human form though, the clearer the memories become. The hunters. Edith defending her and being hurt for it. The silver. The smell of Edith helping her back to herself. Edith tending to her.

Kara's face and hands still sting, despite Edith's best efforts. The injuries will heal with time, but they might scar. She'll have to check them over.

She's so much less stiff than usual after a transformation, though. Edith didn't just remove the silver, she did it so thoroughly, so carefully. Even her tailbone isn't aching as much as it should after her tail was yanked like that, and her hair is shiny and so soft. It gives Kara hope that the vampire's not just scared of her, she might actually care too.

God, Kara hopes so. She doesn't want to force Edith to stay with someone she's scared of. She'd never want that. She is not like her owner was.

A thought strikes her suddenly. Oh. Oh, god. She's curled up, in her human form, naked around Edith. She scrambles to her feet, face heating, remembering her insistence that Edith sleep with her. Okay. Okay. Edith won't think anything of it, right?

She hopes fervently that she doesn't. The first (and last) time Kara accidentally made an innuendo about having sex with Edie, she'd panicked and hidden for a week.

Time to look at her injuries, she supposes. The vampire's still asleep, and she heads to the bathroom, fully expecting to need to clean it. There was a lot of mess. But it's sparkling.

Oh, Edie. Of course. Kara feels a pang of gratefulness mixed with sorrow. She's not sure she could deal with cleaning it today but at the same time, she knows why Edie did it. Why she would've thought it was her job. She would've cleaned instead of sleeping.

Kara tilts her head to either side as she looks in the mirror. Her injuries don't look too bad. Edith must've gotten most of the silver off before it had a chance to burn her too much. It takes longer to burn her than Edith, after all.

She pads groggily into the kitchen and picks up a couple of blood cartons for Edith. She won't have eaten without express permission either.

When she gets back to her room, Kara tucks her weighted blanket around the small vampire, smiling helplessly as she pulls it tighter around herself, nuzzling into it. She's so sweet, Kara doesn't understand how anyone could want to harm her.

She needs to contact Amanda, tell her they're safe. Her phone was in her rucksack, and Edith unpacked that. Where would she have put it?

On the bedside table, apparently. Kara slides it onto her hand, muttering into it until she has a coherent message for Amanda. She's just sent it when she notices the breaking news alert.

Oh, god, why does she leave those on? Actually she knows why, but last night was not the night for them.

Vampire nest destroyed in Hunting Night raid

She sinks down on the floor under the window, hugging her knees to her chest and watching Edith. She doesn't even bother to open the article, slamming her phone into the carpet with a soft thump. She knows what it'll say.

She's exhausted. All the hate... it's too much. How can humans hate so many species so viciously, so thoughtlessly? How do they have the capacity for it? To kill and maim so many, and barely mention it, barely care. They don't even bother to try and get the terms right.

Not all humans, she reminds herself forcefully. Not all. People like Amanda... they care. But they don't always make it out alive.

She pulls herself up small, blinking back tears. Today they rest. Today the volunteers recover the bodies and count the missing and mark the dead. Kara and Edith will both start to heal, some scars fading faster than others. They're luckier than some. At least they're both still here.

Tomorrow the community remembers. The names go on the wall, in a vigil broadcast live from the Isle of Man, and they remember, and they grieve. Those they knew, those they didn't. Humans, non-humans. The vampire den on the news will only be the start of last night's casualties.

And then they'll try their best to survive another year.

Kara looks down at Edith, snuffling in her sleep, and amends that sentence.

She will keep Edith safe for another year.

And another, and another. And hopefully they can both stay safe for the rest of their lives.

[nightly-ruse]

I only found out about the possibility of a Werewolf Mothwing and Fairy Leafpool au today, but I wish to have this au become a reality. I love supernatural aus so much.

I have had the passing ideas so many times of supernatural au’s but it was most often with Siren Mothwing instead but then, Werewolf Mothwing fell into my mind like a gift from the gods. And I am obsessed with her. I have no clue if all cats in this world are specifically magical whatever or if it’s just specific cats but I love her. My idea would be that certain magical lines have spread so like in the clans there are a few mermaidy cats, fairies that specifically are tied to the healing role, taloned cats?? So many options but I think specifically werewolf comes from Tigerstar’s blood and isn’t natural. A curse from the amount of terror he caused. All his kin turned to beasts marked by their furious natures and hidden terrifying sides meant to keep hidden.

With the fairy idea maybe all fairies are made to be healers and are all ancient kin of Moth Flight, Leafpool gets it from her mom Sandstorm who has it through her aunt Spottedleaf (who’s parents were Rosetail and maybe Featherwhisker? T4T Cats). Healers instead in this world are by law supposed to pass on their genes for more healers through specific ceremonies that are foretold by the stars. Leaf gets in trouble by having the three instead because they are products of holy and damned blood since in this world healers are meant to have kits.

[tornrose24]

For those who'd want to know how the big confrontation would go in the TGAMM werewolf au, here it is (TW for blood, eye scream/injury, body horror, and injuries)

In case you forgot, it's established in this au that if you kill the werewolf who cursed you, you have to kill him in order to lift said curse. And as hoped for, that extends to anyone else you bit, be it intentional or an accident.

Also yes, that suspiciously familiar shadow around Scratch/Todd's eyes WAS intentional.

[artistcaptainbendy]

@tornrose24

Drew some pictures of werewolf todd and molly. Todd protecting Molly and him getting a snack.

[experimentjr]

Oh my I totally forgot about this commission!!! Commission done for

@theskullton about their WereMolly AU. Thanks for commissioning me :D