#schoolcat

Here's another one

OH MY GOD IM SORRY IM SO LATE BUT WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT THIS IS SO GOOD WTF!!!!!!!!!!!!

omg LOVE the jersey for arti!!!!! i shouldve made that her design it's so real

tytyty THANK YOU this art is SO AWESOME!!!!!!

Saint was acutely aware of his mother opening the door downstairs and greeting a guest, but he was too focused on his homework to wonder who it was. Boy, does he wish he wondered now.

"M-Monk?" Saint internally cringes at his own stutter, but pushes past it. "What are you doing here?"

"What? Is it illegal now to want to visit my best buddy?" A wild, insane grin is spread from cheek to cheek on Monk's face. That emphasis on best buddy drips with venom. Clearly this situation calls for some quick planning on Saint's part. He concentrates on the memories and thoughts of his so-called best buddy.

Anger, overwhelming and flooding, casting a hazy fog over his other thoughts. Survivor, Gourmand, Hunter, Artificer... all coated in a layer of pure resentment.

He's mad at Saint, there's no doubt about it. This is fine. All Saint has to do is keep his cool and respond calmly to whatever Monk does. "There is nothing illegal about that," he responds, about five seconds after Monk spoke. "I appreciate you stopping by to wish me a happy birthday. It's not normally something that's celebrated for me."

Monk's wide smile contracts a bit, making it less disconcerting, but his eyes keep their intensity. "It's nothin'. Y'know, I have a present for you, but I wanna make something clear before I give it to ya."

Saint hadn't noticed, but indeed, Monk is holding his hands behind his back and presumably hiding that present. He stares at the abdomen of the yellow slugcat, practically peering right through them to focus on whatever's in his hands behind-

Monk's grip knocks him away from his imagination and pushes him further into the back of his chair, sending him crashing to the floor with a yelp. Pain fills his nerves, and his neck feels aflame. He hates this weakness of his. But he has no time to dwell on his self-loathing as Monk's face and body fills his vision.

Everything in Saint's being tells him to run. But he's long past those primal instincts, aware that movement would only result in more bruises. Though his eyes are wide and face annoyingly vulnerable, he stays limp beneath Monk's light squeezing of his neck.

"I'm not going to fucking listen to you anymore, Saint." Monk's words are slow, calculated, precise. His tempered breath is hot against Saint's thick fur. "Why would I listen to a damn word you say? You wanted me gone so badly? Fine. I don't need you. I'm awesome without you! You think you're hot shit? Well I'm the motherfucking sun!"

He removes his fingers from Saint's neck. The green slugcat is paralyzed in fear, not by his own accord but by his body's. The one instinct he can't rid himself of. Monk remains on top of Saint for a time, the latter clearly able to tell how much the former is relishing in this moment. Some sort of twisted self-pride in overcoming a tough foe. Perhaps Saint was wrong to think Monk was an easy pawn. No, rather, he was wrong to water the seed of whatever Monk has bloomed into now.

Finally, when his once creepy grin finally drops into a deep frown, the yellow slugcat stands and turns his back to Saint. Next to him sits a tiny, haphazardly wrapped bundle of something. Saint can't think straight; he isn't sure what it is.

Monk turns his head to look over his shoulder and down at Saint. There's some hint of a plead in his tone, as if it's directed more at himself than the slugcat he's looking at. "I don't care. I don't fucking care. Happy birthday, cousin-fucker." He kicks the small package in Saint's direction and walks out of the door.

It is now that Saint realizes this must be his birthday present. Such a small thing, whatever could it be? Shakily, he rips open the paper and... an old razor blade, coated in dried blood, the faint scent of karma flowers stuck to it.

A harsh shiver runs through him, colder than Bitter Aerie, more frozen than a river in a blizzard, and he finds no comfort in the fact that Monk has grown resistant to such a chill, even less in the fact that he is not immune to it even with the thick layers he’s built up.

anyways have gourmand schoolcat!! (he looks so ominous in this)

SORRY HI AGAIN GOURMAND IAHDJHDUEBDHD I LOVE HIMMMM

ill always be impressed by everyone’s godly skill at shading compared to me lmfaooo but thank you SO MUCH for the fanart i cant believe people like our silly lil fic so much teehee

ok i coulda waited for your answer but im impatient and draw too fast so here (the shading is wacky cuz oops my style do be like that)

im pround of monk tbh. whether by his own choice or not he is finally away from saint (for now atleast..) and him bandaging his arms was such a nice moment.

he DOES need to lay it off with bullying survivor tho >:(

THE NOTIFICATION DID NOT SHOW FOR THIS BLOG WHEN YOU SENT THIS SORRY😭

anyway OMG THAT LOOKS AWESOME JDMBFJFBDUBDHD I LOVE ITTTT I LOVE THE SHADING AND THE COLORS AND EVERYTHING RAHHHHH

also do NOT be proud of monk he WILL get worse