#wereross

[deer-dog]

I’ve had a bunch of requests for wereross, tross and hatsome so I figured I’d do a lil sketch dump whilst taking a break from coursewok <3 I ended up drawing mainly ross tho because dat doggo boiiiii

[lightriley]

Haha! I really should be studying!

[doodleburr]

Yeah.

[vexxxus]

Moon Sickness part two

Oh my gosh Here it is folks ----- The moon was rising when Ross found himself on all fours at the foot of a tree. He coughed and gripped at his hair as he turned himself to sit on the cold grass. Far away from him were the lights of civilization, blurred from his tired eyes. He could feel his heart beat in his head, his ears thumping loudly. Not one memory came to him as he sat there against the tree. Only that he had felt sick and then that was it. He didn't even have the slightest clue where he was. A little ways off he could see a barn, or maybe a house but other than that it was only trees beyond the vacant field. He curled in in himself, a puff of air visible as it left his mouth. Shivers ran up his body and he tried his hardest to stay warm, curling into a pitiful ball. Despite the cold he was tired, his eyes heavy and falling. Sleep should be the last thing on his mind but it's all he can think about. Not about how his friends must still be looking for him, or how he nearly killed numerous people or even that Trott had sliced right through the edge of his ear. None of that even came to mind in the slightest form. It got to the point where he couldn't fight it anymore, and fell asleep against the cold bark of the tree. Nothing has ever been more welcoming in that moment. If only he could sleep forever. He woke up to the chill of damp clothing and dew on his face. At some point he'd fallen over onto the grass. He felt so cold and his limbs stiff and frozen. It didn't bother him so much as the ache did. Mostly it was his head that was throbbing but it was his stomach as well. Moving was difficult. He felt frozen solid and moving the slightest inch was painful. His bones cracked and protested each movement he made even as he stood. Nothing was making sense in Ross' head. He was in a daze, unaware of anything happening around him. When he started to walk it was like some one else took control of him. The mystery pilot lead him along on a hidden path, he traced the very steps he had a day ago. If he would have stopped to look he would have seen paw prints the size of his foot below him. But he didn't stop. He kept walking robotically along the chosen path. It lead him to the city, to a bus stop where the other people waiting for the vehicle stared at him with both disgust and concern. He payed them no mind as he took a seat, staring blankly at his feet. A bus rolled up to the stop and a woman who was sitting by him tapped his shoulder. He snapped out of his slight daze and blinked back to reality. "Wh-at..." He mumbled, looking around. "Are you getting on the bus?" She asked, bent slightly to speak down at him and behind here an impatient driver glaring at him. "Oh... No-no I'm not... Where am I?" He asked, standing and looking for a street sign. He spotted one but it had no meaning. The woman was kind enough to tell him and offer to pay for his bus fair if he needs a ride. She must have thought he was homeless. God knows he looked the part, looking raggedy and dirty. He turned her down and sat back down once the bus started to drive away. He set his head in his hands and let out a breath. "What the fuck is happening to me?" He whined. Something vibrated in his pocket and caused him to jump. His phone... He forgot he even had one. He pulled it from his pocket and looked it over, taking note of the long list of missed calls and texts from both Trott and Smith. He let out a small laugh and almost called them. That was in fact a bad idea. They would question him and he didn't have the mental capacity at the moment to respond properly. No, calling them would be a bad idea, he didn't even want to return home with the chance that they would be there. It's just getting too dangerous. He can't control his changes anymore and with two hunters constantly around him it's a death wish waiting to be fulfilled. Then it's decided. He's leaving, for the safety of himself, his friends, and the people around him. Trott and Smith will be better off without him, they won't have someone to worry about all the time and they can get back do doing their job instead of trying to hide it. Ross stands from the bus stop bench and starts walking. For the first time that morning he feels like he's in control. It won't last though. It never lasts. ----- It takes an hour but he finally gets home. The door creaks like it always does and he cringes at the oddly loud sound. It's always seemed quieter, maybe it got worse. As far as he can tell the house is empty but it looks like a mess. Ross ignored it and hurried to his room, grabbing a single duffel bag and starting to through things into it. Shirts, pants, socks, anything he owned that might be needed. A small black box where he kept his savings is included, only having fifty dollars in his wallet. While he was packing he started to linger on the little things in the room. Little trinkets that he shouldn't take stayed in his hands for longer than they should have as he recalled all the happy times they held. Ross will go to the ends of the earth to deny the few tears that fell from his eyes to be wiped by a dirty sleeve. He didn't want to leave. This place was his home after all. The small trinket in his hand fell to the floor with the sound of a door being slammed open and then shut again. Followed by that was the shouting. He recognized Smith's angry tone easily. "Damn it Trott we've looked everywhere and we haven't found him. I swear to god if that fucking creature killed him I'll chop off its head and hang it in my room! You should have let me shoot it you asshole!" "Yeah ok, and what would have happened if you took the shot and missed? Would you keep shooting like a bloody maniac until the police arrested you? Yeah that's a real smart idea Smiffy, just go and get yourself arrested for shooting up a mall. Instead of arguing over something that happened yesterday, why don't we worry about something that actually matters huh? You remember Ross? Well I do. He's been fucking missing since yesterday!" Ross bent down to pick up the item, eyes down cast as he listened. He's never heard Trott get so angry. He set down the figurine and glanced back at his half packed bag, wiping his eyes of the watery blur. A hand steadied himself on the dresser while the other covered his face. He could feel himself shaking and that horrible lump forming in his throat. He needs to leave, but he can't when they're downstairs. He asked himself, is it worse to disappear without a trace or to face your friends and tell them you're leaving with no real explanation? On one hand he wouldn't have to see their faces as he told them he was leaving, and on the other he could only imagine one of them going missing and never coming back. It's times like this he wished he could save and try both options but real life doesn't work that way. It's pick one and hope for the best. The only thing left to do is decide and this is by far the hardest decision he's ever had to make. Well whatever happens, he needs to stop crying. He just can't be crying. If he goes down there or they come up here and find he he can't be crying. The arguing has stopped for a long while now. He can't even pick up any kind of conversation. He would hope they left but there was never the sound of creaking hinges or the rumble of Smith's engine. Ross has stopped crying but only barely. He's been thinking of what to do, the right thing and the best thing. The best thing is to leave, but the right thing would be to stay, maybe even tell them straight out what he is but that's never been an option and it never will be. A decision is finally made and Ross eyes himself in the mirror and looking himself over. A sigh escapes him and he walks out of the room. Ross barely gets a foot out the doorway; pausing to wipe his eyes again, when a voice speaks up. "Oh my god." Are the words breathed out in disbelief followed by a rush of steps. He felt himself be swallowed up in a tight hug from someone just barely taller than him. In his current state he could only respond by holding him back. Oh god he was going to start crying again. "Trott! Trott get over here now!" Smith choked out. He held Ross so tight he expected his ribs to snap. Smith was mumbling in his ear, mostly talking to himself but Ross took the words as being addressed to him. "I thought you were fucking dead mate. You just disappeared, we looked all night but fuck I'm glad you're alright." "Smith I'm tired alright? We'll continue looking for him in a little bit, I just need to sleep for a little wh- Ross? Ross you're ok!" A second pair of feet trampled up the steps and nearly knocked them over. Ross couldn't hold it back anymore and the tears fell endlessly. Smith was the first one to pull away, though he didn't go very far. His hands cupped tightly at Ross' cheeks, like he didn't think he was real. He looked up at the other's eyes and noted how watery they were as well as the darkness that gathered below them from lack of sleep. Trott had to be the same way. "God what happened to you... Ross you're filthy." Smith said, a smile creeping into his face that fell slightly as he turned Ross' head. "What happened to your ear?" He asked, reaching up to pinch at the edge of his ear causing ross to flinch away. "Let me see..." Trott butted in, moving Smith to the side so he could see. It was a small cut right through his ear. "I don't know what happened. Just one minute I was walking outside the theater, I felt a little sick and..." What can he say? That he blacked out and woke up in a field? That'll be a red flag no doubt. But there's a clever way he can go about this. "There was this... This dog. It was fucking big, I'm not even sure it was a dog at all. It charged at me and I just ran. I didn't stop until it was dark and by that time I just passed out. I just got home a little while before you did." The safest way to lie about all of this is to involve himself with the incident in a different way. The two of them exchanged glances, having a silent conversation between themselves. Trott blinked and nodded his head and Smith looked away. "Ross... We need to tell you something." That's all that was said to him before they started to lead him down the steps. He stopped them halfway. "Do you think it's possible that I shower first? It'll give you guys time to think over what you have to tell me." They looked relieved to have some extra time and Ross was as well. Then they separated, Ross retreating to shower and the others downstairs to discuss how they were going to tell Ross that they were hunters. He showered for longer than was needed and took his time drying and dressing. He felt both parties needed it and if he could choose he would hide in here forever. He did however note the cut in his ear. He never noticed until now. The edges of the cut looked singed, and he just knew it was silver. It would never heal. He sighed and assumed it happened while he had lost it. There's nothing to do for it. And it's come to the point where he can't stall any longer. Trott and Smith had sat themselves on the couch, a drink in each of their hands as they chatted while waiting for Ross. Their heads turned as he entered the room and when he gave a small wave of his hand they waved back. Ross sat it the chair near the couch and the two turned toward him. "Ok... What did you wanna tell me?" He asked, settling in his seat. Trott was the first to speak up after a quick glance at one another. "The best place to start is probably saying it outright. Smith and I are hunters." "Hunters? Like deer and stuff?" He asked, playing dumb. It was Smith who pitched in. "Hunters of the supernatural. Ghosts, demons, vampires, that dog you saw? It was a werewolf." He said it with complete seriousness. Ross played his part, putting in a blank face then throwing in a laugh. "You're kidding right?" He hated seeing the hurt looks on their faces. "No we aren't kidding. It's serious Ross. These things are out there and they hurt people and we save them. If you don't believe is then come on a run with us." Smith defended, crossing his arms. "No nono, that's a horrible idea. Ross you don't have to go with us." "He doesn't believe us Trott, how else are we gonna prove it?" "We don't need to prove it to him." "Guys... I believe you ok?" He started, cutting off their argument. "I mean it explains a lot." He shrugged. The looks of complete surprise made him want to laugh. "Y-you really believe us?" "Well yeah. You're my friends, why wouldn't I believe you? You're always going out real late, you've got a mini hospital in the bathroom, it just makes sense." The two looked relieved that they weren't called crazy or insane for what they do. Ross had every reason to believe them because he was what they were after. Of course now with the lie set in place he should be safe. ----- He's never seen the two so happy. They just revealed their biggest secret and things could continue like normal. It was a pleasant change from constantly telling lies or skirting around subjects. It's also the first time they've ever talked this much. Ninety percent of their stories revolved around them hunting and he was hearing them all for the first time today. They've never just sat in a room together and talked, and Ross was crying from laughter. It was dark outside, the sun setting slowly. They were all tired, he could tell. Trott and Smith has the worst though. Their eyes were dark and struggling to stay open but according to them they were wide awake. It took some convincing but they got up and made the journey upstairs. Ross had said he wasn't quite tired just yet, that he would stay up and watch tv for a bit or maybe pass out on the couch. The time alone was well needed though. All the laughter and stories were great but he enjoyed time to himself all the same. He lay back on the couch with a sigh and shut his eyes. The peace and quiet didn't last long though. That sick feeling returned and for a long while he tried to ignore it. He gave in and stood from the couch, having to stop once he became lightheaded and his eyes seemed to stop working. When his vision cleared he continued to walk towards the door. Fresh air... He just needed fresh air. He grabbed the door handle roughly and turned it, ignoring the creaking of the door he walked outside and let himself breathe in the cold night air. The sick feeling subsided for the time being, but there was something else that caught his attention. There was a sound, incredibly faint but just loud enough for Ross to pick up. It sounded like air, or wind, but there was no breeze. So breathing. He's hearing breathing. As horrifying as that is he doesn't get back in the house and lock the door. He followed the sound. It lead him toward the street, some cars whizzed past and one or two people were out walking. He looked left and right and saw nothing and the sound seemed to stop. Well that was weird. Maybe he was just hearing things. It wouldn't surprise him in the least given the strange things that keep happening to him. Ross sighed and turned to return to the safety of home. What actually happened though was that he turned around to face a tall man. Ross yelped and the man lunged at him, covering his mouth and picking him up with ease. He was taken out of view of the road and shoved against the wall. The stranger got close to him, close enough that Ross could see his sharpened canines behind his lips. "You idiot. Don't you know what's going on?" He asked, voice deep and raspy. "You're like me... I know you are. I can smell it on you. You've been changing haven't you? Changing against your will. We all are." Ross just stared at him blankly with his mouth covered. Even if it hadn't been he wouldn't know how to respond. The man started to grow restless. "The eclipse! The eclipse you stupid child! When the red moon comes you lose everything!" He screamed, and his nails were becoming sharper, digging into his skin. Ross feared for his life then, but he was released and the other was running. He watched him change as he did so and then he was gone. "What the fuck..." He muttered, rubbing at his arm. What was all that about an eclipse and a... Red moon? It all had to be nonsense. On impulse he looked toward the sky where the moon was nearly full. It was white and gray and always. ----- Ross slept on the couch that night, though it wasn't until five in the morning that he passed out against his will. Why stay up so late? He was studying, trying not to figure out what the hell that guy was talking about. He had written out a list. It read: red moon (eclipse?), forced changes, and a flurry of random notes he'd found on the computer. From his research he concluded that the moon did become a reddish color during an eclipse but what effect that had on werewolves was beyond him. There was also the fact that the next 'red moon' was three days from now, or... Two days now technically. He was struck with the ever popular dilemma... Tell his friends or wait it out. He couldn't get over the last words he said. When the red moon comes, you lose everything. Smith had woken him up with a tap on the shoulder. Ross had jumped awake causing Smith to voice his concerns. "Jesus Ross it's alright... What happened?" He asked looking around. Ross hadn't realized the mess he made. There was paper everywhere and the laptop left open and drained of battery. "You look like you had an epiphany or something. You wanna talk about it?" He said, sitting down on an open space on the couch. Ross sat up and cleaned up some of the papers, mostly notebook paper and a few scribbles. It's now or never. "A little while after you went upstairs I started to feel sick... So I went outside to get some fresh air." He started and Smith adjusted his position to sit facing him with his head propped on his fist. He nodded and Ross continued. "Well I was starting to feel better and I was about to go back inside. And I thought I heard something so I went to check it out. I didn't see anything so I was going back and then..." Smith motioned for him to continue. "A guy grabbed me and started talking about... He started talking about an eclipse." He left the first part out. "An eclipse? Was he mental or something?" "I don't know, he was just talking about an eclipse and a red moon and a bunch of nonsense. He started freaking out and ran away but... I saw him changing." That for sure caught the other's interest. "Changing...-" "He turned into a big dog, a wolf really." It was then that smith started to hug him. "You're lucky you're alive you idiot. It must be the one from the mall. It's gotta be hunting is, or hunting you." "H-hunting me? Why would it be hunting me?" "I dunno mate, but from now on you can't be alone. That or- hold on a second." He trailed off, moving away from the couch to dig through his jacket hanging off a chair in the kitchen. He returned with a large hunting knife. He could smell the silver trough the sheath. "Take this. Take it wherever you go. God if something ever happened to you because of us... I'd never forgive myself." "Smith I can't. I can't take this from you." He spoke mostly out of fear. "Yes you can and you will. Now tell me everything about this guy. I wanna know what he looks like, what he said and what you've found out because it looks like you researched something." Ross just nodded and accepted the knife. He held it with shaking hands as he explained what he could to his friend. He showed him his notes and told him about the eclipse in two days. It wasn't hard to tell he was worried. It was written on his face clear as day. "And you're sure all of this is right? You weren't dreaming or you heard wrong?" "I'm absolutely sure of everything. I wouldn't have brought it up if I didn't think it was serious." "No no I believe that I just... Two days. I've never heard of this red moon nonsense. I have no idea what will happen. I'm scared Ross. That doesn't happen all the time. But we need to deal with this. And I've got a plan if you're willing to hear it." "What about Trott?" He asked, curious about the absence of their friend. "I'll fill him in later. So are you in?" Ross though for a moment, eyes downcast at the shiny dagger in his hands. This whole ordeal could kill him. He's at risk being around the only people he cares about when this fabled red moon happens. But if there is the slightest chance he can make it out of this with his friends killing that other werewolf... Then it just might be worth it. "I'm in." ----- Smiths plan was exactly like one would think it would be. Dangerous and risky, with the high chance of death and failure. But it was the only plan they had. What was the plan? Well Ross was to act as bait for the werewolf, he would be placed in an open area and Smith and Trott were to wait in hiding until the right moment. It was a good plan if it weren't for Ross being a werewolf. But that bridge would be crossed in the future. He was assured that he would be fine a hundred times over, and when the plan was relayed out to Trott he was furious. "There's no reason to bring Ross into this! You're going to get him killed!" Were his exact words as soon as Smith finished the explanation. "I know what I'm doing Trott. This thing obviously wants him so it only makes sense if he acts as bait. It's the only way we're gonna kill this thing." "The only way or the quickest way?" "It's the smartest way-" "The smartest way? Putting Ross' life in danger for the sake of getting a chance at taking this thing down is the smartest way? It's evaded us so far and you think this shitty plan is gonna work?" Ross had expected this kind of reaction from Trott. He was prepared to jump in before they could rip each others throats out. "Trott listen. I agreed o this alright? I helped make the plan. I'm fully prepared to do whatever it takes to help you guys get this thing. Instead of fighting we should be getting ready." He spoke up, gaining the attention of the others easily. There was a moment of silence before Trott nodded. "Fine... We'll do this but only because you're ok with it." And it was settled. They had today and tomorrow morning to prepare for whatever it was that was going to happen. The plan was went over time and time again until it was absolutely perfect. Each person knew their place and their purpose. For a moment, Ross actually thought this was all real. He felt he was a hunter and this was his team. He'd forgotten what he was if only for a moment. Time went by too fast for his liking. It was like he blinked and was in the back of their car, a knife attached to his belt and the sun on its descent. This was it. His hands were shaking as he climbed out of the car, Smith had assured him he would be fine. For some reason he believed him. The engine of the car became less and less audible as they drove away from him, leaving ross alone in the field he's been to so many times before. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. From where he was he could just see the outline of the car behind him and the two heads that were protecting him. It was quiet for what seemed like so long. It was dark before long and the moon was high in the sky and a rusty color, not violent red but it wasn't normal either. Just looking at it made him feel strange. Ross felt sick for just a moment, then he felt himself slipping away. There was a familiar scent in the air, his friends and a third scent that he's encountered once before. There was a split second where time stopped, he heard someone call his name and warn him. By the time he'd registered the words he was bowled into by a large furry being. Ross snapped out of his daze and shouted, being pinned by a massive werewolf. It had to be the man from the alleyway. His eyes were bloodshot and he was foaming, eyes darted everywhere and ears twitching every which way. "Smith take the shot! Take the shot you asshole take the shot!" He heard from behind the growling beast above him. One, two, three bullets whizzed passed him, one of them embedding itself in the ground inches from his head. Luckily one also found its way into the dark hide of the beast. It howled and yelped with the burning silver stuck in its flesh and it ran. It ran and Ross got up right after it, losing himself again. He felt... Angry. He didn't have a reason and he didn't need one. He dropped the knife as his claws started to form and he shouted after the creature, a deep, primal noise. He was running after it, two voices shouting at him to stop, come back, questioning him. He didn't need them. He didn't want them. Ross wasn't here anymore. He may be fighting it but it was an uphill battle and he was losing. ----- "Smith take the shot! Take the shot you asshole take the shot!" Trott screamed at him, from their place in hiding by the car their view of Ross was blocked by a massive body made of fur and muscle. It was happening and not how they had planned it. "Stop screaming at me mate! You're the one who always tells me not to shoot if I don't think I can hit it!" "You never listen to me! Why do you start now?" Trott had his nails digging into Smith's shoulder, urging him to shoot before Ross gets hurt by that thing. Smith growls and the gun fires three times. Three rounds forged of silver rocket through the air, one almost hits Ross, one flies way over their heads and the final hits it's mark. There's a small cheer from Trott as the wolf man starts to writhe and runs. Both are stunned as Ross stands and chases after it. "Ross what the fuck are you doing? Get back here!" Smith shouted after him, Trott joining him. They lost him in the fog. "We gotta find him." Said Smith, moving from his hiding place and starting off at a quick pace in the direction their friend has run, Trott was right behind him. This is exactly what they didn't want to happen, Ross getting attacked but why would he run after it? He even dropped the knife, which Smith reclaimed. "Should we split up?" He asked, looking down at the knife. "In this fog? We'll just lose eachother. Let's go, we'll go the direction he went and figure something out." Smith won't admit that he's freaking out on the inside, but he definitely is. Alex Smith is completely freaking out because Ross is gone. He promised him nothing bad would happen and now look where they are, running around a giant fog filled field with a werewolf on the loose. They ran straight, or at least they think they ran straight, no one could be sure. Through the fog noises of fighting were heard, growls and snarls and howls. There were more than one, there had to be with this amount of noise. "I can't see a damn thing Smith, we're lost and Ross is gone. Any other brilliant ideas." He could tell Trott was fed up with this suicide mission of a plan. He couldn't think straight, he was all turned around and couldn't tell which way was up. It was a miracle when the fog lifted just barely and a run down house was revealed. Well it looked more like a barn than anything. "Over there. We can regroup in that barn, figure out a plan and get out bearings back." "What about Ross?" "Ross is tough. He'll be fine." Those were some of the hardest words he had ever said. He swears he'll find Ross alive and never let anything like this happen again. Defeated, they make their way to the old barn. It's missing half the roof but it's at least free of fog. They were in a sectioned off part of the structure, the walls lined with shelves that at one point were probably full of feed for the horses. "Ok... Now what? I don't have any idea what to do Smith. We're wasting time here. For all we know, Ross could be dead." "I know, but how about we don't think about that and say he's still alive right at this moment, what do we do?" Ross can't be dead. He's not allowed to be dead and he'll refuse to think like that. "He's got his phone on him right? We should just call him." Smith proposed, leaning against the shelves with his free hand buried in his hair. "And what if he's trying to hide from that thing? It'll give him away." "Well we need to try something-" he stopped mid sentence when the sound of heavy steps became audible. Both he and Trott froze, listening to the heavy panting and coughing. Smith gestured for silence as he crept his way trough the dark space to the doorway to the rest of the barn. There may not be fog trapped in the building but it's still dark out, and visibility is low. Smith turned the corner of the doorframe, the wide open space of the barn dotted with support pillars and stables. Through the darkness he can make out piles of what could be hay as well as the moving shape of the intruder. The shape was human, he must have changed to try and hide. Even as it was trying to catch its breath he could hear the animalistic sounds coming from it. "You bastard... I'm gonna kill you this time." Smith mumbled, bringing his pistol up to aim. It was dark, but he had a good idea of where it's head was, and he wouldn't take any chances of missing this time. "Smith wait a minute-" Trott started, sentence cut off by the firing of the pistol. The bulled was flung from the barrel and rocketed toward its target who's sensitive ears picked up the sound of a silence firearm. There was no chance to dodge it, the silver bullet buried itself deep in the targets shoulder. Smith let out a small cheer, a wide smile on his face. He finally got that son of a bitch. One less werewolf means fewer victims of their wrath, fewer families torn to shreds and fewer children left alone and parentless like he had been. The wolf man screamed and fell to the floor clutching at his shoulder and smiths blood ran cold. That voice was... He knew that voice. Trott came to the conclusion before he did, pushing past Smith and running to the writhing body. "You shot Ross!" No... That couldn't be true. It couldn't be Ross. But the sound of his voice was undeniable now, there was no other possibility. How could he let this happen? He promised him nothing would happen, he- Ross' wound was smoking, glowing and Ross was growling and shouting in pain. This didn't make any sense. Ross was... Ross was a werewolf? ----- A weight was lifted off him and, the hot breath of the beast's maw gone and replaced with the chilly night air. The rusted moon hung high in the sky and mocked him, taunted him. It made something deep inside him boil with anger. He was running after the retreating creature before he knew what was happening. He changed mid sprint, the most fluid and painless transformation he's ever had. The older wolf man was not match for his speed, he caught up to him easily, he'd followed the sent of blood and burning flesh. He leapt at him, long claws sinking into the others thick hide. This one had attacked him, had challenged him and he would see to it that he was the victor. He tasted blood and muddy fur with a large bite to the back of the neck. The larger of the two yelped and attempted to fight back even though it was wounded. The scene could be compared to a dog fighting ring, at least that's what it sounded like. Ross continued to bite, claw and shred the body long after it stopped fighting. He was after one thing, the heart. No longer beating but still warm, it was all he wanted. His jaws were stained almost black and dripped blood into the earth, his paws were no better. His rage started to fade away, clearing his thoughts and judgements. He looked down at his hands, slowly changing from huge paws to the hands he was so familiar with. The rest of his body followed suit until he was kneeling on the ground, out of breath and horrified at the state of his arms and the coppery taste flooding his mouth. He spat and spat the foul stuff from his mouth but the taste was set into his tongue like a stain. The dark mass before him began its change as well. It slowly went from large dark brown and bloody fur to a tall, bulky man whom he'd seen only once before. He was disgusted with himself, horrified that he could do something so macabre as that. He'd just shredded a man beyond recognition and devoured his still warm heart. He felt sick and dizzy, like he was going to throw up, but he feared what it might look like. He did what Ross knew best. He ran away. He let his legs carry him away from the bad memories, the horrifying things he'd done. They carried him toward the beat up building in the center of the field. It had to be here, where his body kept taking him. Ross could still feel the need to change, only the disgust he felt for himself kept him from doing so. When he stopped running he found himself out of breath and relying on a support pillar so as not to collapse. God he was going to throw up, he could feel it rising up and- Black and red sludge erupted from his throat, bits and chunks of possibly flesh were very noticeable in the watery vomit. He coughed and hacked up more of it, the bitter taste returning ten fold. In his current state he didn't hear the two others near him, or the faint firing of a bullet. He only noticed when the silver pellet lodged itself in his shoulder, setting his skin ablaze with invisible fire. He yelped in pain and slid from his resting point against the pillar, his hand that had been for support now clutching at the burning wound. His shirt nails dug into the dirt floor and clawed deep trenches in the ground. His instinct was to run but he couldn't run anymore. His legs felt like jell-o and his skin burned. He heard his name being called and there was a body near him. He couldn't make out the scent, not with the smell of vomit so strong in his nostrils. There was a gentle hand on his back accompanied by a soft voice. "Ross you..." "Trott get away from him." Came a second voice, hard and cold. Slowly thing were starting to make sense again, he knew Trott and recognized him as well as the voice of Smith, but something wasn't right. "Smith hold on a second." "Shut up!" He suddenly barked, and Ross picked up the sound of the gun being cocked. He turned from his spot on the ground, face pressed to the earth and eyes set on the taller male with a gun in his hands. This wasn't the Alex Smith he knew. There was no life in his eyes, they were dark and empty. "He's one of them." "He's our friend-" "He lied to us! It's what they do Trott! They lie and make you think everything is ok, that they're human and then you know what they do? They stab you in the back!" "Smith please..." Ross choked out, trying to push himself to a stand. His attempts were cut short by a rough kick to his side. "Don't you fucking move you monster! I lost everything because of your kind. I lost my home and my family because of creatures like you! Don't fucking open your mouth to speak to me like you're one of us. I trusted you! I fell for all of this bullshit again. You were my friend Ross! I though you were my friend!" "Please... Just let me... Explain-" "I said shut your filthy mouth you animal. Don't you ever speak to me like we're equals." He shouted, waving his gun around as he spoke. It would take an expert eye to see the shaking of his hand as he held that pistol. "Smith just calm down. This is Ross ok? Just put the gun down and-" Smith snapped and the gun pointed toward Trott now. "Don't you tell me to calm down. I finally understand why you were so weird. I should have known you were hiding something. I just wanted to believe for a second you were fine, but I guess that's impossible. Well fuck you Ross! Fuck you!" Smith raised his gun directly at Ross' head, he turned his head and pulled the trigger, the silencer keeping the noise low but to everyone in the room it was the loudest noise they've ever heard. Ross cringed, waiting for the inevitable to strike, for the bullet to pass through his skull and take his life away. He waited and waited... But it never came. Instead came the thud of a body and he opened his eyes to see Smith laying unconscious on the ground, Trott above him with the other's pistol in his hands. The firearm was dropped and Trott sent a look towards him. "You have some explaining to do when we get home." ----- Getting to the car with a wounded man and an unconscious one was more or less impossible, but they did it. Smith was sprawled out in the back seat and Ross in the front holding his shirt up to his shoulder to stop the bleeding. The bullet had been removed, not easily but it was done and all Ross wanted to do was curl up and sleep for the next week. All he remembered was Trott talking about how pissed Smith was going to be when he woke up. And he was indeed pissed. So pissed in fact that he had to be tied to a dining room chair just to keep him from attacking Ross. "Why is that monster here? Why didn't you kill it?" He shouted, Ross hanging his head a bit away from the others. "Smith would you listen to yourself? Let him talk. Just a few hours ago you were freaking out because you thought he'd died and now just because you know what he is you're talking about him like he's a mindless animal. I mean jut think about it? We've known him almost two years and this is the first we've found out. Do you think maybe he was trying to keep it hidden? I mean hell just a few days ago we told him we were hunters! Do you honestly think he would have kept up the act for two years just to kill us?" Smith didn't say anything and Ross took the silence as his cue to speak. "This is why I didn't say anything." Suddenly all eyes were on him. "I knew what you guys were, I was absolutely scared to death when I found out. I'm honestly amazed I lived this long with the both of you. But you need to understand that I never wanted to hurt anyone. I tried so damn hard to keep it hidden because I didn't want to ruin what I had. I didn't know about your parents and I'm sorry, but don't compare me to that thing that ruined your life please... I'm not a monster or a thing.... I'm just.. Ross." Smith glared at him for a long time before finally sighing. "Would you fucking untie me already? Jesus what is this an interrogation?" He mumbled, turning away from Ross. Trott untied him and Smith rubbed at his wrists as he took a few steps toward him. Ross did the same, meeting him halfway. "I'm still pissed, at you and because my partner pistol whipped me with my own gun." He glared daggers at Trott as he said that part. "But... I'll give you a chance. I'm not gonna just trust you outright like before this, but I'll give you a shot alright?" Ross nodded, wiping at is eyes. "Now come here... I thought you were fucking dead you asshole." He laughed, trying to lighten the mood by pulling Ross into a light hug. ----- It took almost three months for things to return to almost normal. Smith started to trust Ross more and since he'd killed the only other werewolf they knew about, he'd earned some respect from the red head. Things were simple and easy, Ross still had his days where he didn't come home till late and smelled of wet fur and mud, but he never had a spec of blood or any sign that he'd hurt someone on him. There was even a few times he helped the two with a case. As it turns out, having a werewolf on the team can be pretty beneficial, what with the good sense of smell and hearing. Right now, the three are sat in the living room crowded around the tv, Trott alone in his chair, Smith and Ross on the couch. Ross' legs are draped over Smith's lap but neither have any complaints about it. Everything is perfect. Well... Aside from the scar on his shoulder, but he sees that as a reminder that he could have died. It shows he was given a second chance and he can't bring himself to hate it or the person who gave it to him.

[vexxxus]

Moon Sickness

The pounding of a large heart fills his ears in time with the heavy thudding of large paws against the rain softened soil. His dark fur is soaked through to the dense under layer allowing the chill of the night to seep through to his skin. Hot blood flows through his veins like angry rivers and a cloud of breath erupting from his open mouth with each panting breath. Don't stop running, the chorus of voices keep ringing in his ear. "Monster, beast, kill the beast, don't let it escape." They can still be heard over the rushing of blood. Fear and adrenaline push his tired body onward despite his aching muscles. The muddy earth attempts to drag him down, sucking him into a grave to be lost forever, safe from the mob yet death would take him in minutes. Muddy water would fill his but in lungs with each struggling breath and would seep into his eyes making the world go dark. There would be nothing left but the end of his tracks, a sudden disappearance of prints. No one would know, it would be like he vanished from thin air, never having existed in the first place. The soft soil is left behind in favor of solid pavement, trees change into buildings. The car filled roadways are avoided at all cost, alleys being the preferred route to take. When the voices no longer rang in his ears he slowed to a stop, legs shaking and weak, breathing ragged. His legs give out and he falls to the cold wet pavement. He let's out a long, tired sigh and his weary body begins to change from canine to human. Arms still shake and eyes rest half shut and dazed. Thank god he at least has a few layers of clothing on to keep away the chill of the wind. A low pained sound escaped his chapped lips as he rolls to his back examining the palms of his hands; torn and bleeding and caked with dried mud. His limbs fall to his sides and eyes set straight to the sky, the full moon staring down at him like the giant white eye of the who gave him this curse. The night is barely halfway through when he pushed himself to a stand, using the wall for support as not to fall over. Priority number one being to get home where it's safe and warm and not die on the way. The milky light of the moon drapes him as he walks out of the alley. It watched him the whole way home, watched him stumble and fall and shake in the wind. He didn't ask for this. Ross hornby didn't ask to be a werewolf. ----- The door hinges cry out as Ross opens the door to the flat, the others aren't home which is how he preferred it at the moment. What would they say if they saw him like this? Hands all cut up and covered in mud, not to mention he looked like he just ran the Iditarod. Joke intended there. The door was shut behind him, wincing when the cute on his hands started to sting. First things first is to get these cleaned and wrapped up. The sink is first on the list of attractions. The icy water running over his beaten hands is a numbing feeling but welcome to the agitated skin. A long sigh escapes his lips and he regretfully turns the water off. Newly cleaned hands are dried gently and wrapped with gauze from the medicine cabinet. Living with two people who get hurt a lot has it's perks. That being a shit ton of medical supplies including some real strong pain killers. One of those is swallowed down with a glass of water, the excess poured down the drain and the cup set aside on the counter. The roll of gauze is grabbed and Ross heads off to the shower. His feet are no better that his hands. He runs lukewarm water over his aching feet with the detachable shower head, careful to avoid getting his hands wet. Once clean his feet are dried and wrapped just like his hands. The clock in the bathroom sits at a little past two in the morning and Ross has never felt more exhausted in his life. Just as Ross enters his room, lights shut off and almost in bed, he hears the front door creak. There's a moment where he tenses in fear until he hears the laughs of his flat mates. Though really he should fear them more than anything. After all, the two are hunters and himself just another type of game. The heavy smell of gun powder and the feather light scent of silver fill his nose as footsteps journey closer to him, up the stairs and to their rooms. He's not supposed to know what they do or that they had even left that night, but they won't know either. Ross has long since settled in his bed, blanket up to his neck. He can hear them speaking from halfway up the stairs. "I'm telling you I saw it. It was big with dark fur and if you weren't so busy mucking about we would have his head." Smith was speaking, loud and on edge about something. The hunt had been unsuccessful as far as he knows. "Smith get over it. You never would have caught it anyway. How fast can you run huh?" "Well I'll bet that thing couldn't outrun a bullet!" "Would you shut up? You're gonna wake Ross. And if you wanted it so bad why didn't you shoot? You don't need to stay at my side at all times." "Yeah yeah what ever. See you in the morning mate." The conversation ended there. Moments later two doors clicked shut. He thought he heard the shower start up and worried maybe he forgot to clean up. What if he forgot some blood or left the gauze and scissors on the table? They would ask questions, wonder what he was doing with those things or how he'd gotten hurt. He would be a dead man. At some point though he stopped caring. It was around that time that he'd passed out, sleeping soundly under the thick duvet. Warmth surrounded him that reminded Ross of how a puppy must feel when it's curled up against it's mother and siblings. It must seem funny to feel like a small pup but that's the only way he can describe it accurately. The only difference was that he was alone here. No warm mother or siblings were here with him to keep him safe. Just the warm facade of the blanket. ----- Morning came with the sounds of slamming cupboards and scraping pots over a stove. In fact, by the time Ross even opened his eyes it had just turned one. About twelve hours of sleep yet here he was feeling just as tired as the night before. Funny how that always seemed to happen. If he had slept for only a few hours he would have been wide awake. All he needs is some coffee really. Knowing the two downstairs there's a cup just waiting for him with a steaming pot of black coffee to be tampered with as he pleased. Trott knew how he liked it, but he also knew how Ross preferred to make it himself. It "tasted different" when someone else made it for him. No doubt there would be a comment with his arrival about how his coffee was made just the way he liked it, untouched. It would be like every other morning, only this time he had bandages on his hands and feet. Rolling out of bed was more or less the hardest thing he's done in his life. Getting up in the morning shouldn't be painful. The moment his feet hit the ground small waves of pain surged up his leg. He winched with each step until he became used to the feeling. A clean t shirt was put on, his pajama pants made of felt stayed on. A pair of slippers he hardly wore were used to cover the bandages in his feet and a moment was spent coming up with a story if they asked about his hands; which he knew they would. Hardly anything got by them, except for the fact that they live with a werewolf but it's best they don't know that. What he came up with in the early morning daze was that he was cooking the night before, making soup and he spilled it over his hands. It wasn't the best lie but it would suffice for now. Old floors creaked under his weight as he walked and the stairs were no different. The laughter and conversation ended as he reached the last step. Immediately to his right was the kitchen where Alex sat at a table and Chris was leaning against the counter with a bowl in his hands. "Morning Ross." Came both their voices in unison. They were good at that, doing things fluently with one another. It had almost everything to do with the fact that they were a team and spent all hours of the day with each other. At first is was creepy, now he was just used to it. Ross yawned in reply and offered a wave, robotically moving to the coffee maker. He could feel the eyes on him, making his arms itch. He tried to focus instead on making his coffee while Chris ate out of his bowl uncomfortably close to him. He cast a glance over to the other and in the bowl looked like actual shit. "Bloody hell Trott, what are you eating?" He asked, making a disgusted face. He looked to Alex for some kind of explanation but on his plate was some strange looking pancake that took up the whole plate. Said owner of strange one inch thick breakfast smiled like a child who just had his picture put up on the fridge. "Trott and I made pancakes." The man spoke through a mouthful of handmade pancakes. Being homemade didn't explain why they looked like shit, or why Trott's was in a bloody bowl. "We did make pancakes. But we made them blindfolded." Trott added. "Smith's has about three small bottles of Jack Daniels and mines got a whole chocolate orange in it. It didn't quite cool right." "I can see that. It looks like literal shit." He said, pressing buttons on the coffee maker. The machine was already heated up, all he had to do was add in the grounds and wait about thirty seconds. The coffee maker whirred to life and in seconds steaming black liquid fell into the waiting coffee cup below. He could already taste it, just the smell was enough to calm his nerves. All he wanted was that hot cup of morning coffee and there was nothing he couldn't handle. He would be able to take on the world with caffein in his system. He kept a his eyes trained on the trickle of coffee as it started to slow, the last few drops joining the rest in the cup. He let out a sigh, grabbing the cup with both hands and bringing it to a clear space on the counter where he could add the final components like a skilled alchemist. "So what's up with the wrappings mate?" He heard Alex asked through a mouthful of liquor filled pancake. There was a split second he froze in the middle of adding sugar to his drink. He stuttered for his practiced answer, fumbling over the words he so carefully chose for this moment. He could feel their eyes burning holes into his back, the skin there starting to burn and bubble and itch with discomfort. But it wasn't real. It wasn't real but still he could see clear as day a vision of him turning around and staring down the barrel of a gun loaded full of silver. "Ross?" The voice belonged to Trott but in all honesty he couldn't tell. "I-I burned myself." He blurted out, looking down into the half made coffee. Creamer swirled around it in light brown swirls, it looked like a portal, one that he would have loved to jump into. Anything that would take him away from this kitchen and those peering eyes would be a blessing. "Burned yourself? Both your arms? What were you sticking your hands in fire?" He couldn't tell who's voice it was, he was freaking out inside and it was starting to show. Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and he jumped, nearly knocking his drink over. It was just Trott, with a worried expression on his face. "Soup. I was making soup last night and I spilt it. It got on my arms and I took care of it." He explained, trying to distract himself by stirring the contents of his cup. They knew, there's no way they fell for that. God he's so stupid. Who would believe that he spilt soup all over both of his arms? No one. But they seemed to accept it, at least the topic was dropped entirely. The reason was both of his flat mates were good at reading people and they could tell something was bugging their friend. And with a slight nod from Trott, and a return nod from Alex, the topic was tossed. He was thankful for that, a chance to let his beating heart rest. He lifted his coffee with shaking hands, taking a small sip and burning his tongue in the process. He didn't care enough to worry about it, only took a second sip with his back still turned to the others. "Ross, did you want anything to eat mate? I can make you something-" "I could make you a liquor pancake." Alex chimed in. Food sounded tempting but at the same time made him sick. He shook his head and finally turned his back to the counter, keeping his eyes set on the tan liquid in his cup. "No one wants your liquor pancakes Smith." Trott barked at him. "Yeah well no one wants your chocolate shit bowl either." Alex responded. Trott made a face at him and Alex returned it all the same. It's funny how they seemed so normal at times like these. But Ross knew. He knew all too well what the two of them were capable of. He's seen them fight and he's seen the damage they receive. Hell he's seen the damage the can cause. It was unbelievable to think two people could do what they do. "Guys I'm alright. I'm not really hungry, coffee is enough for now." He smiled, holding his cup up some. "I'm gonna go watch some tv ok?" He said and set off to leave the kitchen. He took a seat in Trott's chair, knowing the other male won't kick him out of it like he does Smith. It was the comfiest seat in the house and he needed a good place to relax. He brought his knees up and held his drink close, sipping slowly at it, not even remembering to grab the remote before he sat down. It didn't matter, he would have ended up closing his eyes anyway. More or less he felt safe here, and that's all he needed. Behind him; in the kitchen where his two flat mates remain, he can hear voices. He knows what they're talking about, him most likely and the real reason behind the wrappings. Ross wasn't exactly the smoothest guy when it came to lying, which is really funny considering he's lived with those two for a little over a year. He can just barely hear the mention of his name, but the time of voice suggests worry rather than ill intent or plotting. They don't press the matter when they walk into the living room. Smith leans over the chair, causing him to jump slightly and Trott stands at the side, both hands planted on the arm rest. Ross eyed them both curiously, a hint of fear hidden away. "Yes?" He asked, cradling his coffee close like they were trying to steal his child. "When's the last time we all did something together mate?" The voice came from above him, and he craned his neck back to stare at Smith. "Uhm..." Smith made a buzzer sound before he could answer. That was left up to Trott to do. "The correct answer is too long Ross. So we've decided that to rekindle our dwindling friendship, we're going out. Where you ask? Well anywhere." Trott explained in a pseudo announcer voice. All ross could do was stare at them with a puzzled, somewhat horrified look while he held his coffee close. "You guys are ridiculous. What's this all about anyways? We never do anything together besides eat together or watch a movie." "And that dear Ross is why we're going out." They seemed stubborn about it. In fact, so stubborn that the next ten minutes were spent with them trying to convince him. He agreed just to get some breathing room. They would be seeing a movie, then after that waking around an outdoor mall complex. No amount of complaining or excuses could get him out of it too. He tried. An hour after he finished his coffee they left the house. He had to change and went with a hoodie and jeans, needing to cover his arms. Though he caught them staring at his exposed hands a few times. They had questions but actually knew better than to ask him outright. After all the time they've known him, they know that if it's something he can't handle he'll tell them when he decides to. But knowing Ross, this is one thing he won't tell them. ----- The smell of hot buttered popcorn filled him, made him crave the snack food instantly. It was the only thing on his mind while they waited in line. He zoned out, looking at everything and nothing at the same time. It was Trott who got his attention by pulling his sleeve and handing him a ticket. The movie was called the moon's curse and he can only guess what it's about. Of course it would be some shitty werewolf movie. Oh well, at the very least he can bury himself in popcorn. Trott and Smith were sat on either side of him, though still talked to each other across him while Ross lay back with his feet up to watch the previews. Some good movies were coming out soon, at least they looked good. You never really know how a movie will be until you pay to see it. But this really wasn't that bad. Trott and Smith bickered about something he'd tuned out long ago and before he even realized it the movie was starting. The theater dimmed and the two quit their bickering to pay attention. Smith took it upon himself to get the last word in when it was too late for Trott to respond. He snickered and flashed that troublesome smirk that no good ever came of. Halfway through the movie he'd run out of popcorn. He was almost too distracted by the screen to notice. The graphics of the film were decent for a werewolf movie. The actual werewolf looked believable if it weren't for it being too human like. Beside him he heard Trott mumble, "they look nothing like that." And Smith hummed in agreement. He agreed with them but didn't voice it. He only knew because he was one. The other two believed he was human and naive as all the rest when it came to the supernatural. Of all the werewolves in cinema, it was sad to say that Twilight had the closest being more wolf-like. Of course it does vary between people and place in the world. It came to the part in the movie where the main girl was kidnapped by the wolf-man and taken into the woods. The team of people going after her were setting up, readying their guns. "They're doing it all wrong. It's silver you idiot not steel. Who made this movie Trott? It's shit." Alex chimed in. "You picked it Smith." "I know... Why did you let me pick this shitty movie then?" "Just shut up, people are trying to watch the movie." Came Trott's voice with irritation creeping it's way into his tone. "Ross-" oh no. Please don't bring him into this. "- you know it's silver yeah? Everyone knows it's silver." He did. He brought him into the conversation. Now both of them were looking at him. "Uh... Yeah?" "See? Ross agrees with me." "All he did was agree that it's silver, that doesn't change the movie Smith." "No but it proves I'm right." Smith grinned from ear to ear with a proud air around him and Trott sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand. Ross stood up from his seat and excused himself. The excuse was getting more popcorn and it would buy him some time to himself so he could breath. He ignored the concerned looks of his friends and hurried down the steps of the theater. The dim lights of the hallway were bright in comparison to the theater and hurt his eyes. After a moment of adjusting and looking down at the empty popcorn bag he threw it out, feeling sick at the thought of eating more. He sat down on a bench near the theater doors for awhile. Why did he feel so sick all of a sudden? It could be the popcorn but this was more of a nausea sickness instead of a stomach sickness. "I need some air." He told himself, standing from his seat and heading for the doors. It felt fake, him moving. It was like he was watching someone else in his body. Once he was outside he felt better with the evening chill on his skin. He let out a sigh and almost slumped to the ground. Then he actually did fall to the ground, the sick feeling returning full force making him feel rice of bile in his throat. Don't throw up he told himself, absolutely don't throw up. He found himself coughing and struggling to get a decent breath of air. Then he felt himself changing. The nails on his hands grew thicker and pointed and his teeth became fangs in seconds. Why was this happening , he wasn't doing this. He needed to hide, people can't see him change. He found his bearings and ran for a hide away place behind the theater. It smelled of smoke and other things that became more and more assaulting to his ever sensitive nose. He was slowly losing himself, forgetting where he was even who he was. His body became more canine and coated in dark fur. Pained sounds became growls and Ross was gone. ----- Inside the theater, Trott and Smith take notice of Ross' prolonged absence. It shouldn't take this long just to refill a bag of popcorn. Smith was the first to say something. "Should we go look for him? Maybe the line was just really long, or he had to go to the bathroom." "Smith it's been almost twenty minutes. He should be back by now. I'm pretty worried. He's been a bit jumpy recently hasn't he?" Smith nodded, remembering how he acted when he asked about his hands being wrapped. "Fuck it. Let's go look for him. This movie is shit anyway." He spoke, standing abruptly and starting at a fast pace down the stairs. Trott wasn't far behind him and they left the theater just as the wolf man on the big screen let out a howl to the overly large full moon. Two pairs of eyes scanned the crowed instantly though noticed something else, something very different from what they were searching for. Outside people were screaming and in the theater people were running and blocking the doors, leaving others trapped outside. "What the bloody hell?" "What's going on out there?" Trott was cut off by a woman screaming near the doors. "Wolf! There's a wolf out there!" That got their attention real quick. Another man chimed in. "A wolf? That's a fuckin' bear out there!" The two ran towards the doors and windows to peer outside at the chaos, people running and screaming and a large creature circling the fountain as mall security tried to subdue it. "It's huge..." Said Smith, hands against the glass. That thing easily could have passed for a bear only the tail and face were all wrong. It read wolf all around but it was no wolf, at least not completely. They could tell by the way it was stood and by the paws that looked too much like hands. Werewolf. That was the only explanation. "You got your gun on you mate?" Smith asked, turning to look at the shorter male with serious eyes. "In the car, I got a knife though." "Think you can hold it off while I get the car?" "No but we don't have much of a choice." He sighed, pushing past people and through the door, Smith right behind him taking a sharp turn toward the parking lot. The mall security were surrounding the monster but too fearful to get close. Trott pushed them out of the way and charged the werewolf. He drew his knife, the shiny blade ready to be soiled and the white and black handle held tight. He made a move to slash and missed as the creature retaliated by throwing its weight onto him, knocking him aside with a bump of the shoulder. Trott steadied himself and fixed his grip on the knife. The werewolf in front of him snarled and showcased it's large teeth. For a second it seemed to hesitate, staring at him like he was familiar. He took the chance and tossed his knife at it, the blade cutting through its pointed ear. The wound fizzed, a thin trail of smoke rising off of it. It yelped and shook it's giant head back and forth, giving him ample time to sprint for his knife. Just barely he heard the rev of an engine. Just seconds later came a car speeding through the place, the horn blaring with Smith's voice shouting to get out of the way. When Trott finally looked back to the werewolf it was running through people and away from the mall. Smith had climbed out of the car, pistol in hand and taking aim. His hand flew out and grabbed the barrel of the gun and disrupting the others aiming. "Are you fucking insane? You're gonna hit someone!" "It's gonna get away Trott-" "People's safety is more important that taking a shot in a crowd Smith!" He kept his grip firm on the gun until the other gave up, watching the monster run away out of sight. "Now come on, we gotta find Ross and get the hell out of here." He said, letting go of the firearm and leading the way to the car. Smith nodded and followed, sparing a moment to stare where the beast had run. He swears on his life he'll kill that werewolf or die trying.

[vexxxus]

Moon Sickness (snippet)

"Ross-" oh no. Please don't bring him into this. "- you know it's silver yeah? Everyone knows it's silver." He did. He brought him into the conversation. Now both of them were looking at him. "Uh... Yeah?" "See? Ross agrees with me." "All he did was agree that it's silver, that doesn't change the movie Smith." "No but it proves I'm right." Smith grinned from ear to ear with a proud air around him and Trott sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand. Ross stood up from his seat and excused himself. The excuse was getting more popcorn and it would buy him some time to himself so he could breath. He ignored the concerned looks of his friends and hurried down the steps of the theater. The dim lights of the hallway were bright in comparison to the theater and hurt his eyes. After a moment of adjusting and looking down at the empty popcorn bag he threw it out, feeling sick at the thought of eating more. He sat down on a bench near the theater doors for awhile. Why did he feel so sick all of a sudden? It could be the popcorn but this was more of a nausea sickness instead of a stomach sickness. "I need some air." He told himself, standing from his seat and heading for the doors. It felt fake, him moving. It was like he was watching someone else in his body. Once he was outside he felt better with the evening chill on his skin. He let out a sigh and almost slumped to the ground. Then he actually did fall to the ground, the sick feeling returning full force making him feel rice of bile in his throat. Don't throw up he told himself, absolutely don't throw up. He found himself coughing and struggling to get a decent breath of air. Then he felt himself changing. The nails on his hands grew thicker and pointed and his teeth became fangs in seconds. Why was this happening , he wasn't doing this. He needed to hide, people can't see him change. He found his bearings and ran for a hide away place behind the theater. It smelled of smoke and other things that became more and more assaulting to his ever sensitive nose. He was slowly losing himself, forgetting where he was even who he was. His body became more canine and coated in dark fur. Pained sounds became growls and Ross was gone.

[moon-device]

but what about werewolf ross who turns into a pomeranian instead

[yogbabs]

some nights i thirst for real blood