Everything was good and normal in the world of Landry Jones. Except, ya know. For the god-damn fact she had stubby little furred ears and claws. No big deal. Seriously. She was just one of those furry freaks she’d seen around conventions, when she’d done the convention circuit. Those kids who wanted to be green wolves or whatever the fresh hell they were doing these days. Yiffing? Fur piles? Yeah, whatever. She looked like she belonged right in the muck of that nasty-smellin mess.

Staring in the mirror, Landry ran her clawed hands over her furry little ears. They were cute, honestly. Just kinda impractical? Like, who the hell had furry ears? It wasn’t that stupid s**t on the top of her head, thank god. That might’ve just been the end. That damn Loveless s**t, and yeah she’d done her time in weeaboo hell. Landry was just… too old to deal with that nonsense these days.

Was this something to do with the honey thing? Tasting things differently and all? Either this was a really well coordinated drug trip (and it’d been a long, long time since she’d done anything illegal like that), or this town and its little ‘quirks’ were finally starting to get to her.

Yeah, she’d heard the rumors. ********’, everyone in Ashdown had heard rumors about the Blackfriars. You had to have your head pretty damn far up yer own a** not to hear about the college and the fur pile that had gone down there. Only it wasn’t just neon wolves. People had actually died and gotten torn up. Nasty business, that s**t.

…Was the same going to happen for her? s**t, she hoped not.

Landry’s was a safe space. She’d worked her whole damn life to build up the arcade as a haven for anyone who needed it. Kids, adults, whatever. She didn’t judge. But if she was one of those angry furries who was gonna tear people apart…

Where the ******** did you even go about this? Google was about as helpful as baby powder for a greased hog. In that, ya know. IT ******** WASN’T.

Landry clacked her claws on the bathroom counter, scowling at herself. This wasn’t her. This angry looking lady with claws and ears. She was Landry Jones, overgrown teddy bear. She was a hugger, not a fighter. And a technician, all that s**t. And a mom!

Well, maybe not literarlly a mom. But spiritually, she was as mom as it got.

Whatever. Whatever, you know? It wasn’t that big of a deal. She could… wear gloves or somethin’. Claim this was a makeup test for some convention. It was believable enough. For ******** sake, she had a sailor moon leather jacket. The arcade regulars who knew her well enough would believe it.

…But who would she claim she was working on? That was the real question. Her clawed hands scratched at her chin, pondering. This was gonna take some research.

…Oh. The furry thing, too. Not just. Who the hell to pretend she was cosplaying.