#antler words

[soberhorn]

really cool and normal shit happening on my twitter timeline today. surely this is healthy for the average human mind.

[tddoodles]

Okay, listen Courtney as a deer faun

[lambotel]

[lizarr7]

The final batch: Ozlem. Salem absolutely slaughtered me with those antlers. Queen of Extra. (team rwby and team strq)

[fotos-art]

Red deer in the Caledonian Forest, Glen Affric, Scottish Highlands

© Terry Whittaker

Alamy

Meet the mighty red deer! With its majestic presence and robust antlers, this animal is a true wonder of nature. Photographed in the ancient woodlands of Glen Affric, one of Scotland’s most picturesque valleys, the red deer is Britain’s largest land mammal. Found in various regions of Europe, Asia and North Africa, it has historically been a central figure in cave art and medieval hunting traditions. Its imposing and noble figure symbolises the wild and free spirit of nature.

[vulpes-pax]

[radicheart-a]

Help, he's fallen and can't get up—

[beastsovrevelation]

I'm tempted to turn this into a fic... Like I need any more fic wips (though, I do have only one from the YJ fandom, it's about Jackie getting resurrected AU I once mentioned). 😈

Jackie could tell the survivors something like "so now you need us, apostates."

There could be a plot of Jackie planning to have the Wilderness be born in flesh through a fucked up ritual. But not, like, a sex ritual, that's boring. Think, blood, a guy's balls getting cut off to squeeze out the semen, butchering things, a live bird getting sewn into a bear uterus, and the bear uterus getting sewn into a stag carcass...

Or, Jackie might come to Lottie's compound, and drag her into the whole bringing forth the Wilderness in flesh thing. That could be what the cult wants to do... And, there might be a scene where Jackie cuts the stag open, pulls out a live baby, says something like "behold, the Wilderness lives", to the horror of the survivors, and the worshippers fall to their knees before their goddess.

Hm, what I started could work as the prologue, and then we jump to modern times where Jackie shows up, having her own secret plans... But why would the survivors call out to the Wilderness?.. Maybe one of them does, maybe it's Lottie... Or not. Maybe someone's desperate for something... What do you think?

[enteragoodnamehere]

never listen to hospice by the antlers while thinking about your horrible fucked up furry ocs biggest mistake of my life

[springcatalyst]

sometimes writing is the horrors yes. but sometimes u get to do something cool

[waltzing-with-butterflies]

but a child, the fawn swore

《 only for the moon,

that my brow shall fall 》

yet soon her antlers grew

the good lady's gaze upon them!

water glazed her cheeks

a fool!

and grazed the ground,

freshly branched flimsy bone

[noodles-in-the-sink]

I NEED TO KNOW EVERYONE’S FAVOURITE ETHEL CAIN SONG AND WHY, IMMEDIATELY

[secludedraven]

Putting the Dog to Sleep - The Antlers

[velvetjune]

the Logan and Casey portraits on either side of Saga when she does her profiling :’)

[midnight-roses-candy]

Thinking about girls with antlers again. Huge ripped moosegirls, shy little deergirls, I just need to hold onto someone’s antlers while we fuck.

[pollinateme]

Antlers as a Metaphor

I find myself reflexively touching the two soft points behind either ear,

My tongue grazing the corners of an exposed molar, touching as feeling

Pain only created through inertia. Calcifying submission, 

Into prideful limbs unbecoming of a lady. 

It's easy to feel satisfaction at your own nature,

Benign growth imitating change, a cycle 

Of puffed chests and crossed limbs - wearing party costumes. 

Only inevitably, the rutting comes. 

Velvet dripping spiked punch, sucking on the penny you find in his coat pocket. 

To be adorned in your own flesh as sanctification, an organic altar 

To leave yourself behind, picked clean and white and virginal.   

I melt down coins from between the couch cushions, 

Before pouring it down the remnants of my dominance.

No one asked me to do this. 

A mold to form around my skull, holding it in place. 

Until inevitably, the removal comes.

Sweaty fingers, clambering over one another, to trace shapes on your body

Until She disavows the king of the trees and his phony crown

A self-inflicted immurement, my breath smells sweet.  

Have you ever looked a deer in the eyes?

I found myself distracted by his eyelashes as I read him this poem.

Soft spots approaching my mother hunched over her favorite garden, 

He slept on the floor my life fell apart.

I imagine him with those strips of bloody velvet, sucking on sugar

Sanctification as sport and routine and kinship, 

Patiently awaiting to collect the offering you grew for me,   

Inevitably, it rots - an act of God.