#fawn wants asks 🦌

[akkpipitphattana]

love the emoji for my name ahahahhahah but I have a gayer reason. Tinkerbell fairy was my childhood crush >-<

THATS SO FUCKING REAL FAWN WAS SUCH AN AWAKENING FOR ME SHDKEKF

[lay-z]

🦌 Day 5 ‒  Bambi

Synopsis: Your two annoying teammates convince you to go ice skating with them… and it doesn’t go too well.

Pairing: John Soap MacTavish x fem!Reader x Kyle Gaz Garrick

Warnings/Info: No smut. | military!Reader; cussing; humour; flirting; mild description of injury; friends/teammates to lovers; fluff; eventual romance

Word count: 2.1k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

“I am a fearless, highly skilled and trained special forces soldiers,” you mutter to yourself, “I have been on countless deployments and battles across the globe,” you grunt, huffing through your nose as you continue speaking through clenched teeth, cold air fogging up with each sharp puff of breath, “been tortured, shot and nearly bled out twice already–“

“Boooo!”

“Are ye feckin’ done yet?”

You huff again, only letting go of the railing you’re clutching desperately to lift your hand up high, flipping both of your teammates off with a gloved middle finger.

Gaz and Soap keep skating past you on the empty ice rink – without any effort it seems – calling out to you with their playful taunts.

“Fuuucking assholes,” you mutter again, clutching the railing once more as you inch forward on the slippery white surface; toes curling inside the tight ice skates to get better grip.

“Should’ve known better than to let myself get dragged along to this rubbish.”

It was a crackpot idea of theirs after learning about the ice rink in the next town over, close to the base you’re currently stationed at. They’d begged you all day to join them and after hours of their obnoxious pleading, you’d caved in.

Soap, with his ice hockey background, having played a lot in his youth, seems confident as ever, while Gaz is surprisingly skilled, too. In contrast, you’re a total newbie, wobbling on the ice like a fawn – and hating it with a burning passion.

It’s not in your nature to simply jump into a new experience without testing the waters first and the sheer thought of asking for help makes your hyper-independent-self bristle.

As usual, neither one of your teammates can resist a bit of friendly teasing, their taunts echoing in the empty rink. “Watch out, princess! You're gonna fall flat on your cute ass,” Gaz calls out as he skates towards you with a mischievous grin; pearly whites gleaming in the rapidly setting sun.

You glare at Gaz over your shoulder, your cheeks warming up from his comment. You’re too bloody proud for this and don’t like to admit that you’re struggling, though it’s painfully obvious to anyone who’s watching.

“Put a sock in it, Garrick! I'm just warming up!” You retort, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

Soap, always the cheeky bastard, skates up to you with a boyish smirk, his stubbly cheeks flushed from both exertion and the cold. He skates up and down in front of you, even skating backwards with ease to show off.

“Ye call this warmin’ up? Looks more like Bambi tryin’ ta stand.”

Soap's comment grades your nerves, but you suppress an urge to flip him off again. You’re determined to prove yourself and get the hang of this, even if it means risking a few fresh bruises.

“Bite me, Johnny.” You retort, keeping your eyes fixed on the ice while you try to steady your footing.

Gaz skates up closer beside you, still smirking but with a hint of concern in his eyes. He glances at Soap and then back at you, as if weighing the situation.

“C’mon, princess,” Gaz says eventually, reaching for one of your gloved hands still clutching the railing, “I’ll help you, yeah?”

Glancing up into Gaz soft caramel-coloured eyes, still crinkling at the corners with mirth, you hesitate before you let him take your hand. That nickname, ‘princess’, coming from him makes you roll your eyes while that same strange feeling of warmth starts blossoming in your chest again like it keeps happening lately, but you keep your composure, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Gotta give me your other hand, too, if we’re gonna do this,” he chuckles, reaching for your other hand to pry it off the rink’s railing, “Don’t be shy now.”

Gaz' gloved hands grip yours firmly, guiding you out onto the ice. You can feel his warmth through the gloves, and it's oddly comforting. You're used to keeping yourself guarded, blame it on your occupation and upbringing, but for some reason, Gaz' presence is slowly chipping away at your defences.

Soap watches with amusement, a smug smile on his face as he starts skating circles around the pair of you, “Will ye look at that, Garrick. Looks like our wee lass jus’ needed a prince charmin’ ta give her some courage.”

You grit your teeth; your patience wearing thin with Soap’s unrelenting teasing. Gaz, however, just ignores Soap, keeping his focus on helping you.

“Don't mind him,” Gaz says, offering an encouraging smile, gently pulling you with him as he glides backwards, not as smoothly as Soap, but still ten times more skilled than you could probably do it, “Just focus on me for now, yeah? Trust me, I won't let ya fall.”

His voice is soft and reassuring, but there's a hint of something else in his eyes that you can't quite place.

The sun sets in the distance, its golden hues casting an amber glow over the expansive ice rink, reflecting on the smooth ice while snowflakes begin to fall around you, covering the nearby buildings and parking lot in a thickening blanket of fresh snow.

As time passes, Gaz continues to guide you through the motions, patiently teaching you the fundamentals of ice skating while Soap adds his commentary like a sports caster, making his rounds around you two. Before you know it, you start to feel a growing sense of confidence and control over your movements next to them. However, despite your progress, Gaz' hand remains firmly holding yours, ensuring that you stay stable and steady on the ice.

With him by your side, you glide in smooth circles around the rink, the rhythm of your skating falling into sync with his. The cold air nips at your face, but the warmth of Gaz' grip is comforting, adding assurance to each stride.

Soap's voice suddenly cuts through the tranquil silence, “Oi, lovebirds!” He calls out with a smirk, skating over to where you and Gaz are.

Gaz rolls his eyes but doesn't let go of your hand, making sure you keep your balance. “Yeah, yeah, we haven't forgotten about you,” he replies, a hint of mock annoyance in his tone, “How could anyone ever forget about ya, mate?”

Soap grins, "Jus’ makin’ sure. Ye two were lookin' mighty cozy over here." He waggles his thick dark eyebrows at you, and then shares a significant look with Gaz over your head – one you can’t quite decipher – before Gaz gives him a curt nod.

Without another word, Soap reaches for your free hand, grasping with his own gloved one, not giving you a chance to object as he gives your smaller hand a squeeze while he starts skating at your pace.

“What’s this supposed to be now?” You mutter, glancing at both men to your left and right, “I’m not a fucking toddler.”

Soap chuckles at your comment, squeezing your hand again in response, “Aye, we know ye're not a wee toddler, lassie. We just cannae have ye fallin’ on that cute arse o’ yers."

Gaz pipes up with a smirk, joining in on the banter, “Exactly! We wouldn't want to risk any permanent damage to that pretty face of yours, either, princess.”

You roll your eyes again, grumbling under your breath, “Why are you two so exceptionally annoying today, huh?” You ask, irritation creeping into your tone, as you start wrenching your hands out of their respective grips.

Thanks to the smooth fabric of the military issued gloves which all three of you are wearing, you manage to break free from their hold before you start taking off on the ice in a sudden streak of overconfidence.

Ignoring both men calling out to you, you start gaining an impressive speed on your ice skates as you try to get some distance between you and your annoying friends.

“Damn, she’s going fast.” Gaz remarks with a hint of awe in his deep voice as he watches with a mixture of pride and concern as you take off at high speeds with newfound confidence.

“Aye,” Soap agrees, bright blue eyes narrowed against the blinding daylight as he watches, slightly impressed, how you speed off and skate towards the railing – before his eyes widen at once.

“Ah, Gaz? Mate? Did ye teach her how ta stop?”

The initial moment of pride and confidence wears off fast as you start struggling to slow down, knees bending and wobbling while the ice rink’s white railing approaches comically fast. The snowfall intensifies, creating a blur in your vision as you desperately try to stabilize yourself.

Just as you consider dropping down, a chorus of panicked voices cuts through the freezing air.

“Oh… shit–!“

“No, no, NO, lass! Slow down!” Soap's barks, a mix of panic and worry etched in his tone as he swiftly goes after you, covering ground fast with his skating skills while his skates slice over the ice.

Gaz' voice, laced with tension, echoes in the air as he calls out your name, “Jesus bloody Christ, STOP!” But all you can focus on is the approaching barrier.

You force yourself to keep your eyes open and brace yourself for both collision and pain; perhaps you can drop and fall in a way that won’t cause too bad of an injury–

But Soap catches up to you just in time, approaching at full speed. With a quick, fluid movement, his muscular arms snakes around your waist from behind, holding on to you tightly as he tries to bring both of you to an abrupt stop on the ice, but your arms flail with a yelp, knees bucking as you drop in his embrace, causing you both to slip and fall.

“AH! Johnny!”

“FUCKIN’ HELL, LASS!” Soap cusses and grunts as he tries to roll you over mid-fall, to make you land on top of him, but he loses his balance and crashes on top of you instead.

Gaz is not far behind, his eyes wide with alarm as he watches you two crash just before hitting the railing together. His normally easygoing demeanor is replaced by a focused intensity as he pushes himself to catch up.

When he approaches the crash site eventually, he’s panting slightly, cheeks stinging after the rush of chilly wind whipping against his skin. His brow furrows with worry, finding you and Soap in a chaotic tangle on the ice. His eyes scan both of you for injuries, concern evident in his gaze.

“Are you both alright?! What the hell were you thinking, Soap? And you, idiot, taking off like a shot without knowing how to bloody stop! You could've broken something!”

Soap groans, reaching up to adjust his black beanie with a mixture of pain and annoyance on his face before he untangles himself from you slowly.

As you shift to push yourself up again, a sharp pain shoots through your left wrist, causing you to hiss in pain and cradle it to your chest, a grimace playing on your face. “Ouch... Fuck!”

Gaz' concern deepens upon seeing your reaction, “Damn, you are hurt, huh?” He asks, his voice laced with genuine worry as he glides closer to crouch down next to you on the ice.

Soap quickly notices your pain, immediately turning sheepish. “Oh shite, I'm sorry, lassie.” He says, remorse etched on his face as he kneels and reaches for your injured wrist, “Lemme see, aye? Did ye fall on it? It's probably jus' sprained,” he mutters as he starts peeling off your left glove carefully.

“Ow, ow, ow!” You whine, admittedly sounding quite pathetic, causing Gaz to shoot Soap a glare and mutter a firm, “Watch it, Johnny, she’s hurting.”

Soap nods, wincing in sympathy, and responds with a grumbled apology, “Right, sorry, lassie. Didnae mean ta go so hard.” As he slowly, finally peels off your glove while each movement is met with your pained hisses, whimpers and mumbled curses.

Eventually, Gaz stands on his ice skates again, swaying slightly as he catches his balance, watching with a deep frown. “C’mon, princess, we’re gonna take ya back to base.” He suggests while Soap nods, inspecting your rapidly swelling wrist.

[lunajay33]

The Deer and the Fox

•🦌🍁🪵•

Summary: Being Rhysands little sister had its perks except when it came to your interest in a specific heir of Autumn, one night you decided to sneak away to the autumn court and when you get lost a certain fox finds you and the story unfolds

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x f!reader

•Masterlist•

Love

Love is all I ever wanted, I craved it seeing all the ones around me find the perfect mate for them broke my heart, of course I’m happy to see my loved ones happy but sitting around the family table, my brother sat with his beautiful mate and son, Cassian with Nesta, Mor with her girlfriend, and Azriel with Gwyn, it made me the odd one out, they never left me out which I appreciate but it’s not the same, I want to experience the love that makes my heart pump, my knees weak, my head fuzzy and the only time I’ve felt a morsel of that was at a ball Rhys and Feyre had thrown a month ago, where a certain red haired man caught my eye, he was beautiful he was perfect, his suit tailored perfectly to his firm body, his hair combed back showing of his sharp features, seeing him from across the room my heart jolted and he caught my eyes sending me a wink

I blink once and he’s right in front of me his warmth surrounding me in a comforting blanket, his smell a mix of cinnamon and autumn leaves

“And who might you be little fawn?” He asked a twinkle of curiosity in his amber eyes

“I’m Rhysands sister, y/n”

“A sister and how come I’ve never seen your beauty around before” he said leaning closer as I felt the heat rise up to my cheeks

“This is my first ball, I’ve never had the chance before, and you are?”

“Eris Vanserra, I’m from the autumn court” he bowed

“I could tell from your scent, if the court is any essence of how you come off it must be lovely” his eyes widen

“You can smell my scent”

“Of course it’s quite strong, cinnamon laced with autumn leaves, everyone is this ball should be able to sense it why?”

“Most people can’t smell my scent little fawn” he smirked

“And why is that Eris?”

“I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you, till next time beautiful” he leaned forward taking my hand and placing a gentle kiss to my hand before he was gone leaving me with so many questions

•

“Earth to y/n you in there?” Mor asked waving her hand infront of my face breaking my thoughts of Eris

“Oh sorry were you saying something?” I asked embarrassed as the whole table had their eyes on me

“I’d say you had your mind on a certain someone again” Mor is the only one I’ve talked to about Eris and she told me the truth about what really went down that night between them

“What no, mor shut up” I groan

“Thinking about who might I ask” Rhys asked amusement written all over his face

“No one don’t worry about it”

“Eris Vanserra” not blurted out and I smacked her arm

I looked at Rhys nervous I knew his feelings towards the men of the autumn court

“I will not allow it, my baby sister will not be mistreated by a man like that”

“Rhys I’m not a baby and nothing happening I talked to him once, but he was nice to me” I said fiddling with my fingers

“Rhys she’s just exploring my love” Feyre stepped in trying to calm him

“I’m only trying to protect her” he sighed

“I’m sick of being alone Rhys”

“What’re you talking about you have all of us”

“Come on, every one of you are mated or with a partner I’m lonely I want to experience a romantic relationship I want to feel wanted I want to feel love, and he is the only one to ever make me feel something even for a brief moment, and his scent was so intoxicating mother above is it so wrong I want all of that when all of you do?” I huffed after my rant

Everyone was silent mouths basically dropped to the floor

“What?”

“You smelled his scent” Azriel asked

“Yeah what’s so bad about that?”

“Only mates can smell each others true scent”

My heart almost burst through my chest, mate are they sure

“I doubt that he’s way too handsome for me I mean have you seen him, maybe it was just his cologne or something”

“No girl, that’s your mate” amren said non chalonte

“This can’t be happening” Rhys said dragging his hand through his hair

“Mate” my heart felt at peace for the first time in a while

•

That night I couldn’t settle knowing that what I’ve been wanting forever is out there right now waiting for me, atleast I hope he is, I got up collecting myself throwing a sheer shoulder covering over myself for the chill of the night and winnowed away landing on the edge of the autumn court, the woods whirling with the wind rustling the leaves, the scent reminding me of the man I came here for, the night is dark only being illuminated by the full moon above

I started to head inwards, jumping at ever little noise, an owl screeching, a twig snapping, so preoccupied by every little noise I didn’t notice the sudden dip into a hill ahead of me till it was too late, tripping forward down the hill leaves crunching as I rolled until I bumped into a rock hitting my hip at the end of the hill stopping my fall

Groaning I sat up feeling the sharp pain throbbing in my hip and the definite bruises that would litter my body, then suddenly my senses were enveloped in the warm cinnamon I craved to smell again

“Oh dear if you wanted to see me that badly you didn’t have to fall so hard for me” he smirked as he kneeled infront of me and suddenly all the pain faded to the back of my mind

“Eris! You’re here” I said excitement lacing my voice my smile ached with how wide I was smiling

“I could sense you were hurt little fawn, I’ll find you anywhere” he said gently brushing his fingers against my hip over my silk night gown

“You know”

“Of course I know how could I not when I was graced the most beautiful, delicious little mate, I knew from the moment my eyes landed on you” he stated as he picked me up into his arms, gasping as the pain came back

“What does that mean now I’ve never……I’ve never really had a relationship before” I said wrapping my arms around his neck as he headed to his home I assume

“We can take things slow, take it at your pace get to know each other, as long as you’re comfortable my fawn” in the clearing a warm light emerged from a little cabin pumpkins on the door step, fallen leaves covering the roof

“I’d really like that but, can we not tell anyone for a while, I want to just be me and you not have to worry about what anyone else thinks”

“I think that’s a good idea” he laid me on the couch slowly lifted my nightie enough to see the gash on my hip

“Oh angel, let me fix you up can’t send you back home all banged up” his words had my heart aching

“What I don’t wanna go home yet, a little longer please”

“I wouldn’t be apposed to the most beautiful being staying the night in my home”

“Really?!”

“Of course now relax the nights just starting”

•

The night was warm feeling his arms wrapped around me his chest pressed firmly to my back it all felt right but the sun rose and I have to go home

“Goodmorning” he smiled his voice deep from sleep, I turned our faces so close I could feel his lips

“You’re like a fox you know”

“How so” he laughed

“You’re so alluring, your smile pulls me in but there’s something dangerous lurking but I can’t help myself but wanting more and you’re so mysterious and sly”

“Guess this fox caught the perfect deer, so sweet and beautiful, innocent and those big doe eyes” his voice getting husky as his hand traces my waist

“Please kiss me Eris” not being able to wait anymore

His lips warm our lips melded together because they were made for eachother, we are meant for eachother, I slowly got heated but I got nervous and didn’t want to go too far too quickly

“I have to go, someone will notice” he sighed resting his head against mine

“Be careful and don’t go tripping down a hill again, until next time Angel”

•

I winnowed back to velaris right outside the door of the house of wind, walking inside to Cassian and Nesta sat infront of the fire place as it was still early and the other were still probably asleep

“Well if it isn’t my little sis having her first walk of shame” he laughed as Nesta smacked his chest playfully

“I don’t know what you’re talking about I was just out for a early walk” I said sitting across from them

“In the same nightie as last night? Is that blood?” Nesta asked making Cassian shoot up quickly examining my hip that was already delicately wrapped by Eris

“What happened are you okay?” He asked like the big brother he is to me

“I’m alright I just fell and cut open my leg, but it’s all okay now”

“And who patched you up”

“Ummm majda?”

“You think we’re fools, she’d have healed you immediately” Nesta stated

“Please don’t say anything” I said worrying my lip

“Don’t worry sis your secret it safe with us”

•

Being mated wasn’t how I thought it would be, yes I knew mates were madly in love but feeling it was completely different, I craved to be near him to feel his touch, to just hear him speak but alas Rhys sent me on every job possible leaving me exhausted for a week too tired to winnow until tonight, Feyre convinced Rhys to give me the weekend off and thankfully he listened and I am finally able to see him again, the sun starts setting and I winnow away back to the cabin I remember feeling so warm and cozy

“Eris are you here?” I called out as I entered the cabin just to see Lucien sat on the couch

“Y/n? What’re you doing here?” He asked surprised

“I……what’re you doing here?” I asked trying to deflect

“This is my families cabin I can be here” soon I felt that loving warmth behind me in the doorway as strong arms wrapped around my hips

“I’m here now my dear”

“What is going on here?” Lucien groaned utterly confused

“Nothing of your concern brother let’s just keep this between us especially from your dear mate okay?” His voice commanding making my knees weak

“Fine just be nice to her brother” Lucien had always been a sweetheart

“Come my dear let’s go somewhere private” we walked through the darkening woods hand in hand

“I’m sorry it took me a week to come see you again, Rhys has been on me to do everything I’ve been exhausted”

“I’ve missed you, thought of you every night waiting to be able to hold you again, you know I could come to you aswell, sneak me in like we’re young again” he smirked squeezing my hand

“You might be joking but I’d really like that, I missed you too, I can’t go that long without you again”

“And you’ll never have to again”

[kittykatthatbitesback]

Hey! I love your beach head canons, and I would love to see your take on the Hazbin Hotel characters on a road trip/maybe a trip to a theme park? I feel like that would be cute lol.

Yes of course! This sounds so fun but I decided to make it a road trip to wherever the reader decides (Theme park, wherever)! This actually works perfectly as a prequel/sequel to my Beach Trip! Headcanons I've posted. Hope you enjoy!

Hazbin Hotel Road Trip! Headcanons

Characters: Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Angeldust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Vox, Lucifer, Adam, and Cherri Bomb

Charlie 🐐🫶

Originally wanted to be the one to drive, but Vaggie figured her inclination to be distracted by anything on the side of the road would cause everyone to crash, so Vaggie refused to let her drive at any point

Doesn’t even have her license so she wouldn’t be able to drive anyways so

“Ugh fine! Well, then, I call shotgun!!”

Went from Princess of Hell to passenger princess hehe

Was upset at not driving but got over it quickly as realizing she enjoys the view more than driving

“Oh my gosh look at those deer! Wait there’s more over there! Wait. Did we just drive past the rest area, I need to pee again!!”

Constantly nags the driver by chitchatting to them, regardless if they’re listening

A bad habit of hers is playfully hitting others when Charlie talks, but she forgets to not do this when driving

A couple of minor accidents nearly occur but she is unfazed

Is so pumped and asks to stop and look at any roadside attraction

It begins to become a bit annoying after a while

Vaggie ❌🥀

Is the one who drives for the most part on this road trip

Is a bit grumbly because she was woken up so early by an eager Charlie to go on this trip and needs her beauty sleep

Is the only one who can handle Charlie’s constant nagging and pushing, and is also the only one with a license out of the whole group, so logically the ex-Angel is the one who drives

Only pays attention to the road and not Charlie unfortunately for maximum safety

Is sipping on a large Circle K cup that she filled with Monster Energy prior to the trip

This just barely wakes her enough to watch the road

Has a bit of road rage but these guys are from Hell, what can you expect

Refuses to waste gas so only stops for gas when the car is literally empty

Empty like everyone else had to get out of the car and push it to the nearest gas station that was three miles away, empty

“Come on guys, we’re almost there.” She’ll say smugly sipping her Monster from within the car in the AC

Alastor 🦌📻

Was invited on this road trip, but ended up driving on his own to their destination

Yes, he doesn’t have a license, but he’s the Radio Demon he does what he pleases

Mainly decided to drive separately so that he could listen to his radio in peace without complaints or extra unnecessary noise

Is listening to jazz, and keeps on repeating the songs: “Fly Me to the Moon” and “Sing, Sing, Sing”

Also prefers to be alone, he vibes better that way and is more in his element

Drives the coolest, red, vintage pick up truck ever

All the girls and guys at the stop lights are just fawning over him but the Radio Demon can’t see anything past the road in his shades

Drives super fast and only stops for gas, which considering the age of his truck, ends up happening often

Angeldust 🕷️❤️‍🔥

Wanted to get one of those party buses with the strip poles inside but now has to make do with the crew’s giant van

Enough space to do lines of coke so it’s okay

Obviously snuck in drugs and alcohol, this is a given, it’s Angeldust come on

“I call aux!!” and plays his playlist titled Cunty B*tch

It’s a bunch of Ayesha Erotica, Kesha, Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, etc.

Screams all of the songs at the top of his lungs while hanging out of the window

“HE MIGHT NOT LOOK LIKE HE GETS BITCHES, BUT HONEY THAT DICK WAS ELEVEN INCHES!”

Husk has to pull him inside but he’s just having the time of his life

Loud as Hell but provides the entertainment, and Vaggie appreciates his music taste

Has to get Vaggie to pull over and proceeds to violently throw up all the alcohol he chugged earlier on the side of the highway as Cherri films laughing from inside the van

Immediately falls asleep after this embarrassing moment as the aftermath of his “fun” takes a toll on him

Husk 🐈‍⬛🥃

Was planning to catch up on missed hours of sleep by dozing through this entire trip, but Angeldust made this quite hard

Is wrapped up in a blanket, eye mask on, earplugs in, headphones on, neck pillow propped, and stuffed toy snuggled (HE SLEEPS WITH A STUFFED TOY OMG)

It’s a miniature Pegasus he named after his favorite drink: Whiskey

Angeldust, Cherri, and Adam won’t stop making fun of him the entire trip

This, plus Angeldust’s music, Charlie’s nonstop talking causes Husk to EXPLODE

“IF YOU ALL DONT SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR A SECOND!”

But his geared-up sleep ware makes him look a bit goofy as he shouts this, so everyone instead bursts out laughing

The feline just grumbles to himself as he decides to just stare out the window depressingly for the rest of the ride

Gets bored and ends up practicing Poker and Solitaire with the cards he brought

Is also keeping an eye on Angeldust who at first was off the wall

Once Angeldust passes out, Husk covers him with his blanket so he’s not cold (aww)

Sir Pentious 🐍🥚

Actually was the one who designed and crafted the van

The original van wasn’t big enough for the whole crew after Cherri decided to join in last minute, so of course the snake is going to build an ENTIRE new vehicle for his Cherri Bomb <3

Engineered the van for maximum comfort and refused Angeldust’s pleads for strip poles inside; “Thossse would be ssso uneccesssary!”

Instead, he included luxurious feet space, and AC and heater system throughout the whole van, seats with massaging for backs and feet, mini TVs on the back of each seat, and a fancy mini fridge for food

Also built miniature seats for his Egg Bois with built-in heating pads in case they get too cold in the AC

These Egg Bois have a really specific temperature range they can survive in, so those same heating pads were engineered by Sir Pentious to also work as cooling pads

“Anything for my babiesss”

Came extra prepared and was the only one to bring snacks and drinks to put in the cooler

Is constantly offering Cherri a water or coke whenever she is “looking a bit dehydrated”

Which happens to be every 2 minutes according to him

Is trying so hard to flex on her the fact that he built the van

“Ssssoo Cherri, how are you enjoying the back masssssage? I programmed it to perfectly meet the needsss of a beautiful lady like you”

Bro with 0 rizz somehow ends up charming her

Vox 🖥️⚡️

This TV ignores the mini TVs Sir Pentious built arguing they’re “not of top Vox quality”

Tries to hijack them to prove his point, but Sir Pentious is smarter than that and even his mini TVs are Vox-resistant

Ego bruised, now tries to hijack the radio to turn off Angeldust’s loud ass music, but Sir Pentious ALSO came prepared for that

Sir Pentious even shaped his seat and headrest to fit Vox’s big ass TV head perfectly, so Vox isn’t able to complain about anything

Now an upset Vox is left to sit in silence for most of the trip

Will chime in occasionally to the conversations but you can tell his pride was hurt

Spends his hours of silence to brainstorm ways to defeat Alastor

Lucifer 🪽🐤

Brought his rubber duckies to play house with them on the ride

To everyone’s surprise, knows all the lyrics to all of Angeldust’s songs

“What! I enjoy these too!” Proceeds to lip sync them in the most fruity way

Is Lucifer straight or gay? Bi? No one knows.

Is definitely that one person in a car ride to try to start a game of “100 bottles of beer on a wall” or the game of concentration

LIVES for these games

“20 questions” is his favorite

Tries to get everyone involved and yells at Husk once he sees he’s playing his own game of Poker

Husk suggests that Lucifer should play the silent game

Will try to convince the others to play by reciting them old dad jokes

This does not work

Adam 🎸🤘

Will definitely pig out on all of those snack Sir Pentious brought

“YO WHERE THE FUCK IS THE BEER”

Forces Vaggie to stop at a gas station 5 minutes into the trip to buy 3 twelve packs of beer

Is absolutely in his happy place with the massage chair, vast feet space, TV playing “Too Hot to Handle”, chips, and beer

Is the only one who manages to trash his space with wrappers, spills, and crumbs

Does not give a fuck

Has his window down, sunglasses on, and wind blowing in his face while he just yells

Shouts and catcalls to every hot chick they pass by

Brought an air horn to do that more efficiently while on the highway

Is seated next to Vox so is taunting and teasing him about the whole incident earlier

“Hmm not so tough anymore huh? Even these mini TVs are doing a better job than you!”

Is a bit of a menace

Cherri Bomb 🍒💣

Only joined last minute for the trip because she thought it would be lame at first

But Angeldust promised to bring along drugs and alcohol so she agreed

Made a certain snake sooo happy that she decided to come

Is constantly nagged by him throughout this whole trip but she has grown used to it

She even starts to think it’s cute how much he cares

Has to stop to go pee so often because of all the beverages Sir Pentious keeps offering her

Doesn’t wait for a rest area, will pop a squat on the side of the road

Sings along with Angeldust (and Lucifer??) to all the songs

Actually she’s the one who made the playlist and shared it with Angeldust ;)

“Ooh ooh skip this one, the next one’s even better!”

Brought an Erotica novel to read (she usually just skips to the good parts)

Is glad to be sitting next to Angeldust but still films him as he throws up so that they can joke about it later

Passes time with him playing, Fuck, Marry, Kill

She ends up answering Fuck to all the options

[hannibalzero]

Im posting this here to see if I want to work on this fic or not.

Please let me know!

Spotted fawn!

Chathur 🦌🦬

He had to get away. He couldn’t stand to be in that damn camp a second longer. The camp near Blackwater felt like a noose around his neck, tightening with every passing second. The clatter of tin plates, the low murmur of voices, the occasional bark of someone calling for a favor—it all made his skin crawl. They didn’t see him as a man anymore, not really. Just a mule they could hitch to the wagon when things got heavy. A workhorse, there to carry their burdens, haul their troubles, and then fade back into the shadows until someone needed something else.

Arthur Morgan shifted in his saddle, the leather creaking under his weight as the camp shrank in the distance. Maybe it was petty, maybe it was foolish, but he didn’t care. He’d rather stare at the open plains, feel the cold bite of the January wind, than sit there in that pit of silence and expectation another minute. He wasn’t sure if he was angry or just tired.

Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time anyone talked to him just to talk. Not to ask for a chore, not to bark orders about the next job. Just to talk. Once upon a time, he might’ve called them family. Now? It felt like he was a stranger among them, the outsider who’d overstayed his welcome.

Christ, he was lonely.

The thought hit him harder than he expected, forcing a ragged breath from his lungs. His jaw tightened, but it didn’t stop the truth from sinking in. Arthur Morgan was a lonely man. It sat heavy in his chest, that need for something—anything—more than what he had. He wanted love. He wanted kindness. He wanted someone to look at him like he was worth a damn, someone who didn’t just see the mud on his boots or the blood on his hands.

It wasn’t just the warmth of company he craved, though that was part of it. He wanted to feel wanted. To feel like a man again, not a beast of burden.

And more than anything, he wanted a kiss.

Not the bored, transactional kind in the backroom of a saloon. No, he wanted a kiss that meant something. A kiss from someone that was happy to see him, someone that smiled at him, wanted to hold him close like he was worth a damn. The kind of kiss that left you breathless, that made the world fall away and left you lighter than air. The kind of kiss that stayed with you long after it was over.

His lips twitched at the thought, a faint tingle brushing against his skin, and before he could stop himself, a name surfaced in his mind. Eliza.

That was the last time, wasn’t it? It had to be. The first time he’d really kissed someone, the kind of kiss he still remembered even after all these years. They’d been nineteen, wild and careless and hopelessly in love. Maybe love was pushing it, more like in lust. But Eliza was the only woman who’d ever seen him for who he was under the mask of the enforcer—just Arthur, not a gunman, not an outlaw. That night, they’d shared all their firsts in the space of a few stolen hours, and for once, he’d felt like the world might actually have something to offer him.

But life didn’t work that way, did it? Not for him. Not at all, Arthur tried not to remember her boots swinging in the air and the sound of Colm laughing. Arthur shifted in the saddle, running a gloved hand over his lips as if he could wipe the memory clean. He didn’t want to think about Eliza—not now, not ever. Wanting wasn’t enough. It never was.

The sky above was dull and gray, heavy with clouds that threatened rain or snow, and the air carried a sharpness that gnawed at his exposed skin. It was as if the world itself was mocking him, giving him nothing but cold and emptiness to match what was already inside him. Whiskey snorted beneath him, her ears flicking back as if she could sense his mood. He reached down and gave her neck a rough pat, his gloved hand brushing against her coarse mane.

“At least you don’t expect much from me,” he muttered under his breath.

Whiskey nickered softly in response, the sound almost reassuring. Arthur huffed out a breath that might’ve been a laugh, if there was any joy left in him.

The horizon stretched endlessly ahead, a flat expanse of open fields and twisted trees, their bare branches clawing at the sky. Maybe if he rode far enough, he’d outrun the weight sitting on his chest. Maybe he’d find some forgotten town, a place where no one knew his name. Or maybe he’d just keep riding until there was nowhere left to go.

Arthur sighed, the sound lost to the wind. For now, it didn’t matter. For now, he just rode.

His loneliness felt sharper than usual, like someone had kicked a beehive inside him, sending old memories swarming up into his head. Was it because he was getting older? Or was it the first signs of spring creeping into the edges of winter? Maybe it was that doe he’d seen yesterday, her spotted fawns trailing behind her. He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

Arthur was lost in thought as Whiskey carried him forward. Somewhere.

Honestly, the horse was smarter than he was most days. She seemed to have a way of knowing where to go even when Arthur didn’t. He gave her her head and let her lead, his hands slack on the reins as the landscape passed in a blur.

The image of those spotted fawns kept circling in his mind, refusing to leave him be. At first, it was just a harmless thought: Arthur holding two little deer fawns, their soft muzzles brushing his hands as they licked at him. He almost smiled at the absurdity of it, but then the image began to shift, twisting into something warmer, heavier. The fawns turned into children, small and laughing, their buckskin tunics brushing against his arms as they clung to him. He could almost feel their hands, tiny and trusting, reaching for him. One of them giggled as she kissed his cheek.

Christ. Was he…?

Arthur’s throat tightened, and he straightened in the saddle, his pulse quickening. He shook his head sharply, as if the motion could knock the thought loose. It didn’t. The familiar heaviness settled low in his gut, a restless, prickling tension that felt too warm, too alive in the biting January cold. His gaze dropped to his wrist as his gloved fingers tugged back the edge of his coat sleeve, revealing the simple beaded bracelet looped snugly around his skin. Black and white beads, strung in a precise pattern, their smooth surfaces worn down from years of use.

Arthur stilled, his thumb brushing over the beads as he began to count. Black to white. Black to white. The rhythm was steadying, grounding him in the here and now. He’d done this a thousand times before, in moments of doubt or unease, when the world felt like it was slipping out from under him. The beads were his anchor, his measure of time and self. Hosea had taught him the system when he was barely old enough to ride a horse.

“You’ve got to know your own seasons, son,” Hosea had said, handing him the bracelet like it was some sacred tool. “Your nature don’t make you less of a man, but it’s your job to understand it. To track it. That’s what makes you stronger than the rest.”

Arthur hadn’t understood what Hosea meant back then, not fully, but he’d learned. He’d learned that some men could ignore their bodies, could push through life without thinking much about what they were. But he wasn’t like most men. He couldn’t afford to be. The bracelet helped him keep track—helped him know when the changes in his body were coming, when the heat would burn through him like wildfire.

And as his thumb slid over the beads now, counting each one carefully, he grunted softly. He was out of season. The beads told him what he already knew—or what he should have known. His next heat wasn’t due until late spring. Months away. This shouldn’t have been happening.

And yet, the low thrum in his chest told him otherwise.

Arthur groaned, shifting in the saddle in a futile attempt to get comfortable. But there was no escaping the feeling, that coiled tension building under his skin. It wasn’t sharp or unbearable, not yet, but it was there—persistent and nagging, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. His jaw clenched as he shook his head again, more firmly this time. No. This wasn’t it. It couldn’t be.

He leaned forward, digging through his saddlebags with stiff, gloved fingers. The leather straps creaked under his touch as he searched, his movements growing more frustrated by the second. The tonic. Where the hell was that damn tonic? Dutch made sure Arthur always had plenty of it—cases of the damn stuff, enough to keep him in line for months at a time. Arthur hated the stuff. It tasted like tar, thick and bitter and clinging to his throat long after he swallowed it. But it worked. It kept the worst of it at bay. Kept him useful.

His hand came up empty.

“God damn it,” he muttered, his voice low and rough as he leaned back in the saddle. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, dragging his palm down his face. Of course he was out. He’d meant to stock up when they’d passed through Strawberry ast, but he’d put it off. Or maybe he’d been avoiding it, like he could pretend he didn’t need the stuff anymore if he just ignored it long enough.

It wasn’t heat. It wasn’t. He told himself that again, but the thought wouldn’t settle. It gnawed at him, stubborn and insistent. Maybe it was just the damn spring air creeping into the edges of winter, the faint promise of renewal seeping into his bones. Or maybe it was the doe he’d seen yesterday, her fawns trailing after her, full of life and possibility.

Arthur pulled his coat tighter around him, the rough fabric doing little to keep out the cold. The wind had picked up, slicing through the open plains like a blade, but he still didn’t care enough to notice. His mind was too crowded, too heavy with thoughts he couldn’t shake.

Life. The word echoed in his head, stubborn and relentless. It wasn’t a word he usually gave much thought to, but now it clung to him, refusing to let go.

He wanted a life.

It felt ridiculous, almost laughable. Men like him didn’t get to want things like that. A life wasn’t something you could just pick up at the general store or stumble across in the middle of nowhere. And even if it was, what kind of life would be waiting for a man like him? A man with blood on his hands and sins carved deep into his soul.

Arthur shook his head and glanced down at Whiskey. She plodded forward steadily, her ears twitching at the occasional sound of the world around them. A bird somewhere in the distance, the rustle of brittle grass under her hooves. She wasn’t in any rush, and Arthur wasn’t either.

He sighed, his breath misting in the cold air as his thumb brushed over the beads again. Black to white. Black to white. The bracelet felt heavier today, like it carried more than just its purpose. It was a reminder of what he was, of what he couldn’t run from no matter how far he rode. It was a chain, plain and simple. Hosea had told him it didn’t have to be, but sometimes Arthur wondered if Hosea had been wrong about that.

The ache in his chest flared again, sharp and sudden, and Arthur grimaced, leaning forward in the saddle. He rubbed a hand over his ribs as if that might soothe it, but it only made the feeling worse. It wasn’t the cold, and it wasn’t the wind, and it wasn’t the damn bracelet.

It was loneliness.

Arthur hated to admit it, even to himself. Hell, especially to himself. He’d spent years convincing himself he didn’t need anyone or anything, that he could get by just fine on his own. He was the big bad outlaw, the Van der linde gangs enforcer, the one that gets things done. But now, out here in the middle of nowhere with nothing but Whiskey for company, the truth was harder to ignore.

He wanted more than this.

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of his lungs. He gritted his teeth, shaking his head again like he could shove the feeling aside. But it didn’t go anywhere. It sat there in his chest, heavy and unrelenting.

He thought of that doe and her fawns again, the way they moved together, the way they belonged to each other in a way Arthur couldn’t begin to understand. He thought of what it must feel like to have something like that, something to call your own. Someone who’d look at him and see more than an outlaw, more than a gunman or a workhorse. Someone who’d see him.

His jaw tightened. Stupid thoughts. Pointless, useless thoughts.

Arthur shifted in the saddle, trying to push the ache down, to bury it deep enough that it couldn’t claw its way back up. The reins hung loose in his hands, and Whiskey kept moving, her steps slow and steady as the horizon stretched endlessly ahead of them.

Maybe it didn’t matter, he thought again. Maybe he didn’t deserve more than this.

But that small, stubborn part of him—the part he could never quite snuff out, no matter how hard he tried—didn’t believe that. That part of him clung to the idea of something better, something worth fighting for, even if it felt like a fool’s dream.

The thought of a life wasn’t much. It wasn’t something he could hold or reach for, not yet. But it was something to wish for. And in the quiet moments, when the noise of the world faded and it was just him and the wind and the empty horizon, wishing felt like the only thing keeping him going.

Arthur tipped his head back, letting his gaze drift to the dull, gray sky. The clouds hung heavy overhead, thick with the threat of snow, but for a moment, he thought he saw a break in them. A sliver of pale light bleeding through, so faint it might’ve just been his imagination.

Still, he let himself believe it.

Whiskey snorted softly, her ears flicking back as if to challenge the silence that lingered in Arthur’s mind. He smiled faintly, the gesture barely tugging at the corners of his mouth, and reached down to give her neck a gentle pat.

“All right, girl,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “Let’s keep moving.”

The road stretched on ahead of them, cold and barren and endless. The horizon seemed to shift and blur with the rolling gray of the sky, but Arthur didn’t mind. He kept riding, letting Whiskey choose the trail, her steady gait lulling him into the rhythm of the open plains. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the ache still lingered—quiet now, but insistent, like a splinter buried too deep to dig out.

It had been hours, maybe more. Time had a way of slipping from him out here. He let it. He hadn’t been riding with any real destination in mind—just moving, letting the motion of the saddle and the sound of Whiskey’s hooves against the earth keep him company.

Eventually, he pulled back on the reins, bringing Whiskey to a halt. She huffed softly, her breath curling in the crisp air as she shifted beneath him. Arthur reached into his saddlebag, pulling out his worn, tattered map. It unfolded with a familiar crinkle, the creases worn smooth by years of use.

He glanced around, taking in his surroundings. The tall trees stretched high overhead, their bare branches twisting toward the sky like bony fingers. The distant call of elk echoed through the valley, low and mournful, carrying on the wind. Arthur’s brow furrowed for a moment, and then he chuckled softly, patting Whiskey’s neck.

“Big Valley,” he said, the recognition settling in. “West Elizabeth, huh? You know me too well, Whiskey girl.”

Whiskey nickered softly, her ears swiveling back toward him at the sound of her name. Arthur’s grin widened slightly, his fingers brushing over her coarse mane.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice lighter now, a flicker of warmth breaking through the usual gravel. “I see a few carrots and a peppermint in your future. Yeah, you earned it.”

He folded the map carefully, tucking it back into the saddlebag as his gaze swept across the valley. It was quiet here, save for the occasional call of wildlife and the rustle of branches in the breeze. Peaceful. But there was something else tugging at him now, something that made his chest tighten and his skin prickle with a restless energy he couldn’t quite explain.

Shelter. He needed shelter.

No—he needed a home.

The thought struck him hard, almost knocking the wind from his lungs. It wasn’t just the practical need to find a place to stop for the night, to escape the creeping cold that was working its way through his coat. It was deeper than that, sharper. A demand rising from somewhere inside him, clawing at his frayed nerves. The urge to nest, to carve out a place for himself, was overwhelming.

Arthur sniffed the air, his head tilting as his sharp eyes scanned the trees and the terrain beyond them. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for, but his instincts seemed to know. His body moved without thought, his muscles coiled and ready, his senses sharp and alert.

“Okay,” he muttered under his breath, his voice a quiet rumble as he pulled the reins gently to the left. Whiskey obeyed without hesitation, her steps sure and steady as they moved deeper into the valley.

The air smelled of pine and damp earth, mingling with the faint, distant musk of elk. Arthur’s gaze swept over the landscape, taking in every detail—the slope of the ground, the break in the trees up ahead, the way the shadows fell across the snow-dusted grass. He was looking for something specific, even if he didn’t know what it was yet.

It wasn’t just instinct—it was need.

Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a place to call his own. Camp didn’t count; it never had. Camp was a pit of obligation, a place to be needed but never truly seen. What he wanted now was different. It wasn’t just about finding shelter from the cold or a spot to rest for the night. It was about carving out something real, something solid.

His chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t painful. It was…expectant.

Whiskey snorted softly, her ears flicking forward, and Arthur felt it too. A faint tug, somewhere in the distance, like a thread pulling him toward something just out of reach.

“Here,” he said quietly, the word barely more than a breath.

Arthur urged Whiskey forward, deeper into the valley, letting the pull guide him. He didn’t know what he was chasing, only that it was waiting for him, somewhere ahead.

The valley opened up before him, the dense trees giving way to a clearing that stretched wide and quiet under the pale gray sky. Arthur blinked, almost dazed, as his eyes settled on the sight before him.

A ranch.

Hanging Dog Ranch, to be exact.

Arthur’s chest tightened as he took it in. The place was eerily still, the kind of stillness that carried the weight of death. His sharp gaze swept over the scene, the faint metallic tang of blood hanging in the cold air. It wasn’t just a ranch. Not anymore.

Bodies littered the yard, slumped over fences, sprawled in the dirt, or leaning against the walls of the house. O’Driscolls. Their lifeless forms were twisted in unnatural angles, faces frozen in grimaces of pain. But it wasn’t the bodies themselves that caught Arthur’s attention.

It was the arrows.

Every last one of them had an arrow sticking out of their body—some buried deep in their chests, others snapped off at odd angles. Arthur’s stomach tightened as he slid off Whiskey’s back, his boots crunching against the blood-soaked ground.

Arrows like that didn’t just come from anyone.

He crouched near one of the corpses, his eyes narrowing as he studied the arrow’s fletching. The craftsmanship was clean and sharp, precise in a way that felt deliberate. He recognized the style immediately, and it made something cold twist in his chest.

The Wapiti Tribe.

Arthur straightened slowly, his gaze sweeping across the ranch once more. The Wapiti must’ve done this. He’d heard whispers about the tribe’s growing frustration, the way O’Driscolls had been encroaching on their land, stirring up trouble where there didn’t need to be any. Looks like the bastards had finally pushed too far, and the Wapiti had answered in kind.

Arthur let out a low breath, dragging a hand over his jaw.

“Serves you right,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and quiet. There was no pity in his tone, no sympathy for the men who lay dead around him. The O’Driscolls always brought trouble with them, and whatever had happened here, they’d had it coming.

Still, the sight stuck with him. Not because of the blood, or the death, but because of what it meant. The Wapiti were holding their ground, striking back against those who tried to take from them. A part of Arthur respected that. Another part of him wondered what kind of trouble it might stir up next.

His lips twitched faintly, and he shook his head. Whatever it meant, it wasn’t his concern right now.

Because standing here, staring at this broken ranch with its blood-soaked dirt and bullet-scarred walls, all Arthur could think about was one thing.

Home.

The word rang clear in his mind, cutting through everything else.

He stepped further into the yard, his hand brushing over Whiskey’s reins before he let her go. “Stay close, girl,” he murmured, his voice low and calm. She huffed softly, her ears twitching as she followed his movements with her sharp, knowing eyes.

Arthur moved slowly, his boots heavy against the dirt. He could still smell the blood, thick and cloying, but his focus was elsewhere now. Past the bodies, past the violence, he saw the ranch for what it could be.

The barn was big, its doors slightly ajar, the shadow of a Gatling gun visible just inside. The house was large too, its roof mostly intact despite the bullet holes scattered across its exterior. The place even had a latrine out back, though it was clear the setup needed work—a water boiler, maybe some pipes.

Arthur could feel it now, thrumming just beneath his skin. Energy. Purpose. His heart raced in his chest, his breath coming faster as the possibilities began to unfold in his mind. He felt like he had chewed through four packs of cocaine gum, he never felt more raring to go in his damn life.

The ranch wasn’t perfect. Hell, it wasn’t even livable right now, not with the blood and the bodies and the damage. But it was something. It was far enough from civilization to give him the quiet he needed, but close enough to be practical if trouble came knocking.

It was…his.

Arthur ran a hand over his face, his gloved fingers brushing against the stubble on his jaw. He’d been running for so long, always moving, always chasing something he couldn’t name. But standing here now, in the middle of this battered, broken ranch, he felt the pull of something real. Something solid.

He could make this work.

Arthur turned back toward Whiskey, who was standing near the edge of the yard, her head raised and ears alert. She watched him intently, her breath curling in the cold air.

“Well, girl,” he said, his voice quieter now, but steady. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a project.”

She nickered softly, as if in agreement, and Arthur felt a faint, tired smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

There was so much to do. Cleaning up the bodies, patching up the barn, fixing the holes in the walls. The ranch was in shambles, a carcass of what it might’ve been, and Arthur could feel the weight of it pressing on him already. It’d take days, maybe weeks of hard work to drag it back from the brink. The kind of work most men would balk at.

But for the first time in a long time, Arthur didn’t mind.

He stepped toward the barn first, his boots crunching against the frosted ground. The familiar weight of his revolver at his hip gave him a kind of comfort as his fingers brushed over the worn grip. The place needed clearing out—both the bloodied remnants of the past and whatever else might’ve taken root in the quiet aftermath. But Arthur didn’t hesitate.

For once, he wasn’t just running.

He was building something.

The barn loomed large and dark against the gray sky, its doors slightly ajar. Arthur reached out to push one open, the heavy wood groaning in protest as it swung wide. The cold air followed him inside, but the space itself was still and stale, carrying the faint scent of hay and rot.

His sharp gaze swept the interior, his instincts on edge even though the Wapiti’s work had likely left no stone unturned. He muttered under his breath, the words lost in the stillness, and stepped further inside. The shadows shifted as the light from the open door stretched across the dirt floor, revealing everything the barn held—and everything it didn’t.

Damn, the Wapiti didn’t miss. The blood on the ground and the broken tools scattered near the walls told a story of violence, swift and efficient. Arthur spotted a simple wagon in one corner, its iron frame still intact and the wooden boards sturdy enough. It had the hooks for a pair of horses, and Arthur figured that was how the O’Driscolls had hauled in the Gatling gun now sitting just outside.

The Gatling gun glinted faintly in the daylight spilling through the barn doors, its polished steel an almost comical contrast to the grime and chaos around it. Arthur’s lips twitched into something that might’ve been a smirk. He wouldn’t mind trying that thing out one of these days—there were enough men in his life who deserved to be on the business end of it.

But not now.

Dirty work came first.

Arthur leaned the shovel and lantern against the wall, the metal clinking softly as he took a long look at the space around him. A ditch. He’d need to dig one—deep and wide enough to handle the bodies out front. That wasn’t the kind of work anyone enjoyed, but Arthur didn’t flinch at the thought of it. He was no stranger to graves, after all.

His gaze flicked to the wagon again, and an idea tugged at the corner of his mind. Maybe he could hook Whiskey to the plow after clearing the barn, start tilling the ground for a garden while he worked on restoring the place. Some vegetables, maybe a few hardy crops. And the bodies… well, even the dead could serve a purpose out here. They’d make fine fertilizer if nothing else.

The thought twisted something in his gut, but he didn’t dwell on it. Morbid or not, it was practical. He let out a rough huff of breath, shaking his head. “Goddamn O’Driscolls,” he muttered. “Good for somethin’, at least.”

Arthur picked up the shovel again, its weight familiar in his hands, and stepped outside. The cold bit at his face, but he didn’t bother pulling his scarf higher. The work would warm him soon enough.

The yard was still, the bodies lying where they’d fallen, their blood soaking into the thawing ground. Arthur stood there for a moment, the shovel in one hand and the lantern swinging lightly in the other. He let his gaze wander over the broken fence, the bullet-riddled walls of the house, the way the barn cast long shadows over the mess of it all.

And yet, he didn’t feel overwhelmed.

This place wasn’t a ruin. Not to him. It was the beginning.

He walked toward the far end of the yard, where the ground sloped slightly downward, a natural low point that would serve well enough for what he had in mind. The shovel dug into the thawing earth with a satisfying crunch, the sound breaking the heavy silence of the valley. Arthur set a steady rhythm, working the soil loose with practiced efficiency.

His breath came in clouds, small puffs of white against the gray afternoon, and before long, a faint sweat began to bead beneath his coat. He paused to shrug it off, tossing it over the nearest fence post before wiping his forehead with the back of his glove. The cold air prickled against his skin, but it felt good in its own way—bracing.

He hummed softly under his breath as he worked, an old song he couldn’t quite remember the words to. It filled the quiet, its low, gravelly tune mingling with the scrape of the shovel and the occasional creak of Whiskey’s tack as she shifted nearby. The sound wasn’t for anyone but himself, but it steadied him, kept his thoughts from wandering too far into the dark corners of his mind.

The ditch grew steadily, a dark scar against the pale ground. Arthur worked until the ache in his arms became a familiar thrum, until the frost gave way to the dark, rich soil beneath. It wasn’t perfect yet, but it didn’t need to be. Not today.

Leaning on the shovel for a moment, Arthur caught his breath, his chest rising and falling in time with the slow plumes of air around him. His eyes drifted back toward the ranch house, its walls still scarred but standing, stubborn and unyielding.

This place had survived, in its own way. And maybe, just maybe, it could help him do the same.

“ get to it,” Arthur muttered, straightening with a quiet grunt. His body ached, muscles tight from days of relentless work, but he barely noticed it now. He rolled his shoulders, grabbed the lantern, and headed back toward the barn to gather what tools he’d need next.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t cleaning up someone else’s mess.

This mess was his.

His land. His home. Where his babies would be born and raised.

And he’d make it something worth keeping.

He fell into a steady rhythm, the kind of back-breaking work that might’ve sent most men running. But for Arthur, it felt… right. Familiar, even. Hard labor had always been a kind of comfort to him, a way to quiet the noise in his head. But this was different. This wasn’t just work—it was purpose.

He crouched beside another O’Driscoll corpse, his fingers steady as he gripped the arrow lodged deep in the man’s chest. The shaft slid free with a wet sound, the blood-stained fletching catching the light of his lantern. Arthur turned it in his hand, inspecting the craftsmanship with a critical eye. The arrow was sturdy, its tip sharp and precise—Wapiti work, no doubt.

“Good condition,” he muttered to himself, tossing it into the growing pile in the bucket at his side. No sense wasting good arrows, not out here.

The body landed in the ditch with a dull thud as Arthur heaved it over the edge. His breath misted in the cold air, but his body was warm, his skin flushed with the unnatural heat that had been gnawing at him for days now. He paused, his chest rising and falling as he straightened, the lantern casting flickering shadows across the yard.

He should’ve felt disgusted—tossing corpses like sacks of grain, the stench of death hanging thick in the air. But all Arthur could think about was the future. This ditch, this ugly scar in the dirt, would be the start of something new. The bodies would rot, sure, but they’d feed the soil. And the soil would feed his garden.

A soft rumble stirred in his chest—something that felt dangerously close to satisfaction.

Arthur knelt beside the next body, his movements automatic now. Pluck the arrow. Toss it in the bucket. Drag the corpse. Repeat. It was almost meditative, the rhythm of it steadying the restless energy that had been driving him to the edge.

The smell of pine and damp earth mingled with the sharp metallic tang of blood, filling his lungs as he worked. The wind picked up, cutting through his sweat-dampened shirt, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. His body refused to let him, the heat thrumming in his veins like a second heartbeat, urging him forward.

By the time he’d reached the last body, the bucket of arrows was nearly full. He crouched down, his fingers brushing the splintered wood of a broken shaft, and a strange thought flitted through his mind. Wapiti arrows… Strong, sharp. Made to last. Built with care.

Built for survival.

Arthur sighed, tossing the broken arrow aside before gripping the corpse by its boots and dragging it toward the ditch. His muscles burned, his shoulders screaming in protest, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on.

When the body finally hit the edge of the ditch, Arthur let it roll in with a grunt, wiping the back of his hand across his brow. The faint orange glow of the lantern caught on the blood-streaked ground, and for a moment, the yard looked like a battlefield.

Maybe it still was.

Arthur stared down into the ditch, his chest heaving as his breath fogged in the cold air. The silence pressed in around him, heavy and unrelenting, broken only by the distant rustle of bare branches in the wind.

But it didn’t feel empty. Not anymore.

Arthur rested the shovel against his shoulder, his gaze drifting toward the barn. His barn. His land. The ache in his chest flared again, sharp and insistent, but this time it wasn’t unbearable.

[idkfitememate]

Hello! I’m here to enter my thoughts for a deer! Creator! Reader in Sumeru! I know there’s tiger creator! Reader for Sumeru already but I feel like since nahida is so peaceful and kind she deserves an animal (even if only by isekai) buddy that matches her vibes because deer are usually symbolic with peace and stuff.

So deer! Reader starts out as a wittle ol’ fawn with gangly legs that they can’t seem to get the hang of at all. Teyvat helps their creator out with giving them food that they can reach out and nibble and it conveniently rains water in a small pool for reader to drink from. So they take the first few days easy trying to figure out how to stand and stuff. Everything is going well, all is peaceful and no one has tried to kill them yet. They could even stand on their stick legs for a full minute yesterday!

But that all changes when some sleazy treasure hoarders from Liyue decide they want to hunt for some easy grub as they smuggle expensive artifacts out of the nation. Sadly for deer! Reader, that means they want them on their dinner plates tonight. An odd choice, but right now you are easy pickings.

Teyvat is obviously not happy about this, so the rishboland tigers and birds near Gandharva Ville are trying to get Tighnari’s and Collei’s attention while small shrooms try and protect you. Though it is a slowly loosing battle.

Tighnari quickly realizes the wildlife is acting strange. His large fox ears help him pinpoint the problem and he rushes off into the forest with his bow. Collei quickly follows behind, although confused. They follow the roaring rishboland tigers to a secluded grove in the forest and find deer! reader an inch away from getting hit in the head with an arrow.

Both the tigers and the forest rangers are not happy.

Tighnari has no time to nock an arrow so he uses his dendro vision to slap the arrow out of the air. Deer! Reader is saved! The treasure hoarders are swiftly knocked out by Tighnari and Collei(with a few…casualties because of the tigers). They were going to be turned in to the authorities. But before they could do that, Tighnari and Collei had to figure out what to do with deer!Creator first.

They thought you were a normal wild deer that the rishboland tigers might have taken as one of their own by some miracle. So they tried to leave you be after they checked that you were unharmed but you were adamant about going with them.

You bleated and wailed pitifully, trying to stand on your thin legs only to topple over. Getting used to standing on four hooves was one thing but trying to walk was another. So you gave them your best baby deer eyes until Collei caved and tried to find an excuse to convince Tighnari to bring you with them.

She winged it and spoke about how your legs weren’t working properly. You weren’t standing and you couldn’t walk when it was obvious you looked a few months old. Maybe they should take you back to the village for better inspection?

Tighnari didn’t buy it but the sad look you were giving him with your droopy ears and (fake) teary eyes made him cave. He would break protocol just this once. He couldn’t leave a possibly sick baby deer all alone could he?

So he scooped your small deer body into his arms and set off for Gandharva Ville.

Little did he know you would refuse to leave his and Collei’s side afterwards.

—-

Sorry if it seems long! 😖 I just have so many deer! Creator reader brain rot ideas I want to share with you!

If it’s okay with you and no one else has taken it, could you call me 🦌 deer anon ?

Tighnari & Collei Encounter

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Deer Reader x Tighnari & Collei

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 197

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Never apologize for a long ask! It shows your idea in the fullest and I love it! ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

I’ll just pick up where you left off!

Now he had a deer in his office. Tighnari simply stared at your small body as you tried to stand. He honestly didn’t know why he allowed himself to take you.

(It was those stupid perpetually teary eyes of yours)

He stood and stared at you.

And you stared back.

And it continued like this for a least five minutes.

“… Mr. Tighnari?” Collei called out.

He only hummed in response.

“There are a bunch of Rishboland Tigers outside.” She said. And he sighed.

“I’m just going to assume it’s the ambush that was watching them. Just… inform everyone not to attack. They seemed relatively harmless and I’d like to keep it that way as long as possible.” He didn’t turn away from you and you didn’t turn from him.

“…Okaaayyyy then.” Collei said. She stared from the door before gently closing it.

The fox and the deer continued their staring contest.

Until you sneezed.

And threw your tiny head back, shaking your head with a surprised expression. You rubbed your nose a bit with your front hoof, your ears swinging a bit from the motion.

Tighnari suddenly understood why Collei was so keen to keep you.

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Hehe little guy. While I think I’ll be keeping the Tiger!Creator cannon, I would adore to see more of Deer!Creator from you! Can’t wait to hear more!~ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

Also fun fact! A group of tigers is called an ambush! But a mother tiger and her cubs is called a streak! ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

[macabr3-barbi3]

I'd like to request a reader stumbling upon Alastor and a deer having a squeaking contest in the woods. I don't know why I need it but I need it because squeaking contest. Thank you

Hello! I hope this scratches the itch for you, it was super cute and fun to write ❤️🦌

You were perhaps a bit early for your meeting with Alastor, but you didn’t think he would mind as you eased open the door to his hotel room and let yourself in. You had been regularly spending time together for a few months now since you had started staying at the hotel, and normally you shared an evening cup of tea about an hour later than you currently were. 

Alastor wasn’t in his room when you stepped inside though, the fire going but no sign of the Radio Demon. You set the new tea you had brought along for the two of you to try on the table near his armchairs and wander further into the room.

He might be in his bayou dimension, you figure. It wasn’t like him to be outside the hotel at this time of the night, so unless he was down at the bar or something he had to be out in the swamp. You had been itching to take a closer look at the ecosystem anyway, so you hoped he wouldn’t mind if you took a look around.

Stepping over the threshold from bedroom to bayou, the difference was immediately noticeable- the atmosphere felt thicker, warmer, more tangible. You follow the path that’s been eroded into the earth through the trees, marveling at the world that Alastor has created here. It was beautiful, the stars shining through the canopy of trees above you, green-tinted moon casting a faint glow on the flora and little creatures you could see skittering about. Maybe he wouldn’t be too averse to having your tea out here sometimes- iced, since it was a bit hotter, but you didn’t think he would mind.

A faint squeaking noise draws your attention, feet halting as you try to pinpoint the direction it had come from. A moment of silence, and then you hear it again coming from your left. You slip your shoes off to muffle the sound of your feet in the grass and creep towards the sound.

You’ve found Alastor, at least- he’s bent at the waist and face to face with a baby deer, ears flattened against his head and his smile thin. Your eyebrows scrunch at the sight, and then the fawn makes the noise that you had followed; high pitched and cute, it makes you smile, grin widening when Alastor glares at the tiny creature and imitates the sound.

They go back and forth several times, the squeaking increasing in volume and length and Alastor getting progressively more frustrated. You hadn’t even known that he could make a noise like that, so sweet and soft and genuinely deerlike that it finally makes you giggle, the fawn taking off into the darkness of the woods and Alastor standing to his normal height, ears pointing skyward as his eyes narrow at the sight of you.

“What,” he inquires, “are you doing out here?” 

“What am I doing out here? You were in some kind of squeaking contest with a baby deer- so cute by the way-”

“My actions are none of your concern.” He turns his head away from you, but even in the dim lighting you can see the faint blush to his complexion.

“Come on, Al,” you tease lightly, not wanting to actually anger him. “You can tell me- did the fawn offer you its soul if you could out-adorable it? You were doing a great job from what I could see.”

“If you must know, it was a riveting argument about the state of my bayou- whatever level of ‘cuteness’ you apply to it is merely a byproduct of the conversation. Since you’ve scared the damned thing off, I shall have to resume the conversation another time.” His smile is tense, leaning into your personal space. “You will speak of this to no one,” he says, brushing his hands off on his suit jacket. “Know that it is only the faintest sliver of platonic affection keeping your afterlife uninterrupted.”

“Gotcha,” you agree. “Big scary Radio Demon? Not cute in the slightest; I have no evidence to the contrary if anyone asks. You have my word.” You place a hand over your heart in mock-seriousness, and know that you’ve won him over when he scoffs and his smile softens. “Now come on, I brought a new tea for us to try- back to society!” You’re already contemplating how to make him make that squeaking noise again; maybe if you asked nicely he would do it for you, or perhaps you’d have to startle him into it-

“It’s not even a mile back to the room, and this is hardly the wilderness,” he complains, but he follows you anyway, your nefarious plot unnoticed.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mise en Place 9

Warnings: noncon, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

You lean on the cart as you roll it towards the door. You limp but the more you move, the less difficult it is. Sonny turns and points at you with his knife.

“Where do you think you're going?” He barks and you freeze. “I told ya to sit your kiester down.”

He drops the knife and comes around the metal island. He takes your arm, not unkindly, and ushers you back to the stool he planted earlier by the sink. You hide your face, ashamed at your helplessness.

“This place will be fine with a bit of mess,” he goes to the door and pushes it open, “big guy, get in here.”

Thor appears and you keep your head down. The glasses on the cart clink as he turns it.

“You doing okay?” He asks.

“I got her. You get back to work. Enough to worry about around here,” Sonny goes back to the counter and washes his hands.

You turn and go back to washing, slipping down to just lean on the stool. Sonny clucks as he chops loudly behind you. The club is already buzzing with noise.

“Fell down some stairs, eh? Musta been some stairs.”

“Yeah,” you shrug and wince, “I told my landlord to fix the railing…”

“Mhmm,” he doesn't seem to believe your story. “Next time you hit those stairs back. Maybe carry pepper spray.”

“Sonny,” you sniff.

“Yeah, yeah, you fell,” he relents.

You sigh. What good would it do to tell the truth? When you did before, no one did anything. No one believed you. They won't this time either.

🦌

Work ends and you grab your bag and jacket from the back room. You make a slow advance through the empty barroom and stop at the top of the stairs. You're just as daunted by the descent as the idea of walking home in the dark.

“Ah, ah, fawn,” Thor startles you as he strides towards you, “you're not going anywhere without me.”

“What? I– I'm fine–”

“I must insist. I can hardly bear to see you this way. Do me a favour and let me get you home safe.”

You sigh but don't protest. You're exhausted and sore and scared. You can try to deny it but you can't stop looking over your shoulder for Johnny.

“Why don't you sit?” Thor makes you flinch again as he draws you back to the present.

You just nod and let him lead you to a stool at the bar. They're tall and you grab onto the bar's edge and step up on the cross bar to get up. Thor helps as he grabs your waist and guides you onto the seat. You wiggle and thank him, slouching down to make yourself smaller.

You lean on the leather trim as Thor sets to his work. You stare at the shelves of bottles and glasses. You just want to lay down and not think.

When he's finished, he pulls on his pale blue coat and checks his watch. You focus on his arm as his strength bulges under the fabric. You are safer with someone like him shadowing you.

He offers his hand to help you down from the stool. You ignore it and try to do it on your own, only to stumble. He catches you and puts you right. You really are pathetic.

The stairs are treacherous and at the bottom you're out of breath and trembling. Thor has his hand on your back as he ushers you outside, bidding a booming farewell to the bouncers. You just shuffle on, intent on your destination.

The walk is slow and quiet and long. Thor tries to chat, asking about your day, then if you have anything exciting going on. You grumble, no and no.

You get to the alley by your place and hug yourself.

“Thanks, I got it from here,” you give a tight-lipped smile.

“I don't mind,” he steps into the alley.

“No, it's fine, really, I can–”

“Come, I'll feel better to know you get through the front door in once piece,” he beckons you onward and you drag your feet.

You try to get ahead of him as you near the door, hoping to hide the broken handle. Before you can, he grabs onto your arm and hauls you back as he stops. He squeezes you tight.

“Your door–” he growls, “someone–”

“The inside one is fine,” you shrug and try to slip free, “it happens. It's a bad neighbourhood.”

“Fawn,” he keeps his iron hold on you, “don't lie to me.”

“Let go,” you plead and jolt your arm, only to make yourself yelp.

“You didn't fall, did you?”

“What?”

“Someone did this to you,” he grits out.

“N-no, I told you–”

“I knew it. When I saw you, I could tell,” he hisses as he turns back to you, making you face him, “why wouldn't you tell me?”

“It's not a big deal,” you whimper as his fingers crush your arms, “you're hurting me.”

He releases you, opening and closing his finger, bunching them to fists as he looks around the alley. You cower and touch the sides of your neck. The anger rolls off of him in waves.

“I'll be okay, I just want to lay down–”

“No, no, you can't,” he blocks you as you try to sidestep him, “what if whoever did this came back? What if they hurt you again?”

“He won't,” you murmur, once more he puts himself between you and the steps.

“He? Who did this?”

You shrug, “I don't know but… they wouldn't come back.”

“You know who did this. You sound so sure.”

“No, I don't--Thor, please, I'm tired and I need sleep.”

“Sleep? You can sleep. At my place.”

“What?”

“I won't leave you here alone. I can't. I wouldn't forgive myself if that menace returned and– how do you know they won't do worse next time?”

“Thor, please, it's not a big–”

“You keep saying that. Well, I'm making it a big deal. You come with me or I stay. Either way, I'm not leaving you alone.”

You huff. You can't argue anymore. You couldn't make him leave if you tried. You throw up your hands and hang your head.

“Why?”

“Why?” He echoes, “why would I want to protect my friend?”

“Why do you care about me?” You scoff and lift your chin, “what do you want from me?”

He's taken aback by the question, an accusation really. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath.

“Nothing, fawn, nothing but to have you safe and sound. As anyone should want you,” he slowly reaches to touch your shoulder, trailing his fingers down as you wince, “you are worthy, you know that, don't you?”

You pull back and cross your arms. You peer up at the dark windows and shake your head. You don't need to answer that.

“Can I grab a few things?”

[whumping-valentine]

🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 7 🦌

"Ghosts and Dreams"

Content: Paranormal, ghosts, threats of future punishments, getting caught snooping, whumper comforts whumpee after a strange nightmare and everything is great but then everything goes wrong and worse and oops my hand slipped.

1,500 Words

Heyyy it's part 7! Do you like paranoid whumpees? Whumpees who get caught snooping through whumper's things? Whumpees who push a lenient whumper to their snapping point? Ghosts?! Then you'll like this part!

The first part of Fawn and Hunter is getting loads of attention all of a sudden, which is perfect timing as I've just finished this part! Make sure to leave a like so I know you want more ♡ thank you!

Let's go! 👻

       The next day, Hunter was skinning the deer on the kitchen table while Fawn sat in the living room, sitting on the old, dusty couch as they were instructed. They were crouched up, hugging their knees, wearing socks, sweatpants, and their sweater. They were better able to take in all the details of their surroundings now.

       The dusty floorboards, the dirty rugs, the broken clock on the wall that ticked, but the hands didn’t move. The bookcase of old, tattered books. The wooden walls, the dim lamp, the ceiling fan that looked ready to fall off its hinges. The place was ready to collapse, but still it stood.

       They listened to the floorboards that creaked under Hunter’s feet as they occasionally moved around in the kitchen. The sound of slicing flesh and sawing disturbed Fawn. They tried to focus in on the sound of the ticking clock, or the wind outside, listening in silent thought.

       They always felt tired, and now had a near constant headache. It was difficult to sleep, the pain distracted them, despite how sleepy they were. They didn’t want their head to hurt anymore. They didn’t want to feel tired and cold all the time. They felt about ready to cry from it all, burying their face into their legs. They just wanted it to stop.

       The next time they lifted their head, it was from a nudge on their shoulder. They turned their head and looked at Hunter.

       “Sleepy, hm?”

       Fawn nodded their head, holding back tears. They must’ve dozed off, but still felt just as tired and in pain as they were before.

       “Have you been getting enough sleep at night?”

       Fawn shook their head. How could they sleep in a place like this? When they were scared, and in so much pain? Not to mention Hunter’s recent paranoia made Fawn extremely on edge. Hunter tried their best to hide it, but Fawn could see it clear as day. Something unsettled them, and that unsettled Fawn.

       “Why not?” Hunter asked.

       “I'm in pain. And scared. This place is haunted.” Fawn answered, meekly.

       “What makes you say that?”

       “There are ghosts. I see ghosts. All the time. I— I thought it was my head. I think. I don't— I don't know. They watch me."

       Hunter chuckled, “You’re afraid of ghosts?”

       “I always have been.” They said quietly.

       “More than you are of me?”

       Fawn didn’t answer.

       “Oh, that’s so cute.” Hunter said, “You’re more scared of ghosts than me. Adorable.”

       Fawn grumbled and mumbled, “I have anxiety. I can’t help that I’m scared of ghosts.”

       “Ghosts that aren’t real and can’t hurt you, might I add. Though I’m very much real, and very much can hurt if I so please.”

       “I told you I can’t help it. I don’t decide what I’m scared of, my stupid fucking brain does. I just— ugh— just leave me alone.” They sighed in frustration, burying their face back into their knees, wanting nothing more than their head pains to go away. Maybe then they could actually think.

       Night came faster than usual, but it might be because their sense of time started to blur. Everyday felt foggy as they all seemed to blend together. They were all the same.

       Fawn curled up on themself as they tried to hide. They had no blankets to hide under, no lamp to turn on, no safe place to run away to.

       They couldn’t stand how much this place reminded them of home. All the worst parts of it. With no way out.

       Trapped again in the very place they tried so hard to escape.

       Though worst of all was the horrendous fact that Hunter was better than both their parents. A reality that was hard to stomach.

       It was extremely difficult to sleep. Every little sound made them want to cry. The rotten smell of the cabin felt different. It didn't smell like a dead deer anymore. Hunter never let them rot like that. No, this smell was vile. The putrid smell of death. Though Fawn had no idea where it was coming from.

       They held themself back from gagging, or throwing up. Their fear didn't help in the slightest. They felt their hands shake, and their headache started pounding as they clenched their jaw. They couldn’t hold back their tears any longer as they flowed from their eyes as they cried in the pitch darkness.

       Eventually through the turmoil, the tossing and turning, and the tears, they managed to fall asleep. Though it was far from a peaceful one. They repeatedly woke up throughout the night, their heart racing, sweating, cold, aching, it was terrible. But the worst of all was the eventual nightmare they had.

       In the nightmare, they saw a massive apocalypse. They saw zombies, aliens, mass murder, vampires, werewolves, and massive mutated beasts. The thing that finally woke them was a voice that sounded real, like it was spoken directly in their ear. Just the simple word, "Consequences."

       They jolted awake, jumping up with a gasp. The sound of their heaving breaths was the only thing in the silent air. They’d never had any kind of dream that was like that. They were on the brink of a panic attack, and ran up the stairs, pounding on the basement door, "Hunter! Hunter!"

       Hunter opened the basement door, and Fawn instantly wrapped their arms tightly around them, crying into their chest. They couldn’t hold it back anymore, they needed any kind of comfort, even if it came from Hunter. They didn’t care.

       “P-please. It’s scary. And I’m in pain. Please, I— I don’t want to be alone.” They cried.

       "Hm." They scoffed with a smile, "I've gotta say, Fawn, you're the strangest person I've ever held here. Come on, let's get you back to bed." They said, picking them up. Fawn simply whined as they were gently thrown over their shoulder, wrapping their arms around Hunter’s neck.

       They were carried to their room, and roughly placed down on a bed. "You're really pathetic, you know that?" Hunter said, looking down at them, "Pathetic ir stupid, I'm not sure which one. Calling out to me for help. Help from what, spirits?"

Fawn didn't respond, simply they rolled over on their side and curled in on themself. Hunter crawled on the bed with them, "You don't get to yell for my help and then ignore me." They grabbed onto their shoulder, laid down behind them, and put their arms around them. Fawn only made a small grumble in response, but neither said another word.

       Though Hunter had to admit, it felt nice to hold something so tiny and scared. And for Fawn? It was nice to be held.

~~~

       Fawn refused to leave Hunter’s side all day. They followed them like a scared puppy, eyes wide, fidgeting with their own fingers as they kept their gaze towards the floor. Hunter found it cute, and almost pitiful. 

       The next night felt even worse than the last. Fawn felt like they were starting to lose their mind. All of the fear, the pain, and their own self-hatred at their reliance on their captor. Their hands shook as anxiety coursed through them, their heart rate spiking, their head starting to pound. They were angry, they were scared, they were sad, and they were in pain.

       Fawn clenched their fist as they dug their fingers into the mattress, angry tears falling from their tired eyes. They didn’t care anymore. They didn’t care.

       They got up and turned on the basement light, and immediately began rummaging through Hunter’s stuff more. They took a closer look at the collection of missing posters. They inspected their faces, some of them looking vaguely familiar, though they couldn't for the life of them think of where from. Their hands shook as their grip tightened on the old dusty paper. They were angry.

       Hunter could be as nice as they wanted to them. That doesn’t change the fact that they killed all of these innocent people. Innocent people who’s missing posters this monster kept as trophies. Well, fuck your trophies.

       It was an involuntary movement at first as Fawn tore the poster they were holding in half. But it felt good. So they destroyed more of them, ripping them to shreds.

       Suddenly they had a moment of realization and almost… comfort. The ghosts they felt they’ve been seeing… maybe they weren’t crazy, maybe it was the trapped spirits of Hunter’s victims. Maybe that’s why they felt familiar. Maybe ripping the posters is freeing them and the comfort is their thanks? Well, either that or they ARE completely insane, but either way, they finished ripping the posters with a smile on their face.

       They were so lost in their own thoughts, they didn’t even hear the basement door opening, nor the footsteps coming down the stairs…

       "Really, Fawn?" Hunter said sternly loud, almost in a yell. "After everything I do for you, this is how you repay me? By disobeying me? Snooping through my things?"

       "Hunter, I—"

       "No, I've had enough with you. I told you, you have no idea what I'm like when I'm mean. I can be your worst nightmare. I'll make the ones you've been having look like a fucking fairytale."

Taglist: @parasitebunny

Fawn's headache that I wouldn't shut up about this chapter was basically a vent from me. I have this occasional sharp stabbing pain on the left side of my head, and in my ear, and it's been really hindering my ability to focus as well as sleep. I'm not sure yet if I want to see a doctor. I'm hoping it's just something to do with my jaw, as I do clench my teeth from stress but idk.

Also sorry for how abrupt/sudden the ending was or any of the writing quality here. The aforementioned headache is to blame for that (or at least that's my excuse lol)

Lmk in the comments if you want added or removed for any future updates !

Thank you for reading ! 💕🦌

[clingyypuppic]

Hi! 🦌I'm Lottie! Charlotte, Lott & Lotta are also okay! ♡ I'm a 22 year old femme lesbian, and my pronouns are she/fae! This is my pet regression blog <3

Mostly I will just be a little fawn/deer, and sometimes puppy or lamb! I am importantly (!!) also Lottie Matthews, and an angel! These are all spiritual kins, and literally me, so I ask that you please be understanding!! My kin blog is @propheticfawn if you are interested in this !!

I enjoy making friends and interacting, so you are very welcome to !! Posts here will be less formal, and even though I don't use babytalk, they will be less fluent, and more just simple and soft and excitable !!

I will make a better introduction soon but wanted to have something for now! thank you forr reading 💜

[circavel-ask-blog]

"hallo!"

Heheh circle x thavel ask blog less goo!!

Headcanons, rules and information down below!!:

circle is clingy sometimes when mad or sad, and absolutely LOVES when thavel offers to cuddle with her.

When they cuddle, one of them, usually circle, will nuzzle the other like crazy while the latter takes it. Thavel uses this to steal small pecks from circle when she does this.

Obviously, circle can purr, growl, hiss, and has multiple cat like instincts. Thavel can do the same for deers and wendigos. She can let out squeaks, belts, screeches, calls, and had many deer instincts.

they also have a child, fern! Because of her parents, fern has both cat and deer instincts, but the deer is more higher Because she takes after thavel more.

Thavel calls fern 'little fawn', and circle calls fern 'lil kit', sometimes 'lil oreo' when she wants to play around.

Symbols!

🍪🐾: "hi" - circle

🦌📝: "hi" - thavel

🦌🍪: "hi!" - fern

((Hi!!)) -ooc

Rules are simple, no nsfw, but slight mention of it is fine.

And i think thats all!! Ask are open, so go ahead!!

Fern ref!

((Main ask blog is @3dward-th3-s1lly!!))

[climbthemountain2020]

hey boo 👻

i’m back with a second spooky question to spice up your night…

a little helper elf may have told me you want to receive a piece with our favorite fox 🦊 and fawn 🦌🌸

but i can’t help but wonder what your favorite dynamic for these iconic mates might be🤔🤔😉

perhaps rakish gentleman lucien, or assertive elain? (or maybe both…😏😘😘)

are you more interested in steamy passion or simmering, but reserved, desire? or unfettered joy?

your dutiful secret santa 😘🎁🧑‍🎄

Hey booooo 👻👻👻

Omg ask away I'm literally just making spaghetti and this is more important by far

I love a snarky Lucien who refuses to back down from treating elain like a real person! I KNOWWW it's not current canon, but I'm such a sucker for a Lucien who refuses to see her as some fragile teacup and actually pushes her to come out of her shell. I'm a slut for banter!

On that same note, I love an Elain who steadily turns out to surprise Lucien (and everyone else) with a sense of humor and snark!

At their core, they were both built to be emissaries and entertainers and hosts, and I just feel like their back and forth commentary is gonna be unmatched once they let it fly!

As for steam, baby, smoke me up!! I'm all for the entire spectrum of 🥵🥵🥵 whatever is comfortable!

[tinybabycatpaws]

hello everycat! this is our age regression & syskit blog, created with the intent to explore and blog about our regression & as a safe space for our syskits, and to create things for the community others may enjoy .

ask games we are currently doing ; one, two, three, four, five.

please include the question as well!

we are a system that have a few age regressors, age dreamers, pet regressors, pet dreamers, & syskits. however, collectively you may call us kit, or any cute pet-like cat-like petnames ( e.g. ; kit, kitty, mittens, furball, bean, etc... )

we go by it/its or kit/kits on this blog, and we prefer feline or nonhuman terms.

our big age won't be revealed, however, we are an adult. our little age is whatever the clanmate regresses to or already is, so for simplicity, we regress to all previous ages.

and though we don't know exactly know what ages we all regress to, we do know that we regress to a kitty the most often in regards to petspace.

we don't really have a big do not interact list, but some obvious ones we do want to interact are ; ageplayers, anti-agere/petre, anti-therian/otherkin/fictionkin, anti-furry, kink, or NSFW accounts.

after the cut is the tagging system, but it's extremely long

GENERAL TAGS ;

🐈 . . . ; any text posts from us when big. 🍼 . . . ; any text posts from us when in littlespace. 🐾 . . . ; any text posts from us when in petspace. 🩷 . . . ; any text posts from us when in caregiverspace. 🎨 . . . ; any arts or crafts any of us might make when small. 🖼️ . . . ; art we reblog from other people. 🧸 . . . ; our stuffies or toys. 🧶 . . . ; any asks we might get. 🌈 . . . ; any moodboards we might make. 🗝️ . . . ; anything regarding our journal 🧵 . . . ; anything we reblog. 🪽 . . . ; intros of clanmates.

EMOJI CODE ;

🤍 ; neutral / no space ✉️ ; caregiver space 🩹 ; slipping 🎧 ; big space �� ; little space 🦴 ; pet space 🎀 ; little clanmate

CLANMATE INTROS & TAGS ;

the emojis will be used for the tags.

only actually active clanmates will be listed. so no dormant clanmates are going to be listed.

AGE/PET REGRESSORS/DREAMERS ;

🐾 whisker 🐈 - syshost + roleflux ✦ aesity - they/them ✦ 18-22 - flip, no lean ; agere to 0-3 ✦ petre to kitten

⚡ volt 🔌 - energetic alter ✦ fictive - he/zapp/bolt (they/he/fluff/paw when little) ✦ 22 - flip, regressor lean ; agere to 0-4 and 6-10 ✦ petre to kitten & dragon.

🌲 lupus 🐺 - syshost ✦ aesity - it/its ✦ ageless - flip, no lean ; agere to all previous ages ✦ petre to puppy.

SYSKITS ;

🍄 lumen 🌙 - doekid + comforter ✦ aesity - it/they ✦ 10

🪵 timber 🕯️ - battery ✦ aesity - he/they/bark ✦ 8-10

🦮 bailey 🐾 - playmate ✦ octive - it/pup ✦ 23 (permaregressed to 10-12)

🎈 fizz 🚀 - vernalian ✦ aesity - he/him ✦ 4

🌳 mudpaw 🌧️ - roleless ✦ clangen - they/rain ✦ 6

CAREGIVERS ;

🐾 whisker 🐈 - caretaker ✦ aesity - they/them ✦ 18-22

🌲 lupus 🐺 - caretaker ✦ aesity - it/its ✦ ageless

⚡ volt 🔌 - caretaker ✦ fictive - he/zapp/bolt ✦ 22

🐦 robinleaf 🌿 - caretaker ✦ fictive - she/fern/kyu ✦ 19

🦌 willow 🪵 - caretaker comforter ✦ aesity - they/fawn ✦ mirror age

[mydissociativediaries]

1/20/2024: Fawning

Sometimes, I think about the time that I fawned over people (apparently, that's one of the most common trauma responses), thinking that their bullshit was my fault. If I kept sucking up to them, messaging them like we were still friends and apologizing for THEIR abuse, they'd stop insulting me.

One person in particular (a former coworker) was such a vile, disgusting person who treated me like shit, but I kept sucking up to her because I stupidly thought we were still friends. We were tight before the abruptly turned into this obnoxious monster. Surely, it was my fault? If I apologized and kept seeking her attention, all the insults and abuse would go away?

She was disgusting, like countless other abusers in my life, and that's what she wanted. Wanted a lackey who would keep feeding her ever-inflating ego.

Man, people like her make me sick, but I hate myself most of all. Hate myself for putting up with abuse, insults, harassment, humiliation and just outright lying from various assholes because their sudden heel-turns and red-faced screaming tantrums threw me off.

And let's face it: I love it. I love it when people shit all over me because I deserve it.

I ask myself "What's it going to take to forgive myself and move on?", but the truth is, I don't want that. I thought I did, but I had an epiphany lately. I keep doing this because deep down, I enjoy it.

Trying to improve while hating yourself is agonizing.

Thanks for reading,

🦌

[yanderesmythos]

🏹Yandere! Platonic! Artemis with a Child!reader (Scenario)🦌:

Tw: Yandere themes, Kidnapping, Stalking, Implied child neglect, implied murder, Manipulation.

She watches you. She always does. Your innocuous outlook towards life and people has her intrigued. Whilst your precocious talent at hunting, has wrapped her around your small fingers. Artemis was pleasantly surprised at the fact that a child as fragile as you, was already becoming a full fledged hunter.

She was over the moon, when she noticed how you respected her and her twin brother regarding their laws of hunt. She was certain that you were no ordinary child. Perhaps, the child of hunters, with the way you hunt proficiently.

That didn’t matter to her in slightest, if anything she was in ire of your parents. How could they leave a defenseless child wondering in the vastness of the wild? Have they no concern for their child? Artemis maternal instinct has been stroked and its fire won’t be quenched until your safety was guaranteed.

In any case, she decided to approach the young child in the form of her sacred animal. A deer. After all, she doesn’t wish to frighten you at all. Like a doe sheltering her fawns from predators teeth, she too wants to protect you from the neglect of your parents.

She waited and waited for you to come, so she could get answer from you. You can’t imagine her joy, when she finally laid her silver irises on you. You were adorably strong. An oxymoron, yet she didn’t mind. Once she gets you under her protection, you’ll be stronger that she vowed as the goddess of hunt.

Unaware of silver doe eyes, you were beaming with contagious happiness as you have just finished hunting a rabbit. Maybe then, your ma and pa will be proud of you following their step. Instead of being ignored, it broke your tiny heart into pieces. But that didn’t stop you from trying, as you were tenacious. However, your train of thought was interrupted by the cries of a deer.

Pivoting around, they met with its own mesmerizing silver eyes. It was not like any deer, they’ve seen in their hunting journey. No. It was larger in structure, with enchanting grey white antler that closely resembles the hues of the moon, and grey-ish fur with strange marking all through its body.

“Oh, Hello there. My apologies, if I bothered you. I was just hunting, so I could provide for my family.” Ever so polite, too. Yet, it perturbs her that she can sense a melancholy aura surrounding the child. As if they’re lonely, so Artemis decide to gently poke her. May haps, they will be recipient toward her affection.

To say the least, she was platonically enamored with them. She knew why you did visit her forests often. It was impressive you taught yourself the art of hunting, but it was all for the wrong reasons. Hunting is a sacred activity that free the soul, yet you used to appease your ungrateful parents. You didn’t know any better, but soon you will.

Her anger towards your parents was very familiar, to when Niobe mocked her mother. Now, she is certain that you are in need of her guidance and protection. By Olympus, she’ll provide it and more to ensure your happiness is met. However, she has a business to take care of first.

She stayed with you, until you drowsed to sleep and carried you on her back to her temple. That way no beast, hunter, and deity will ever harm you. You’re officially part of her hunters. With that done, She shifted back into her human form, grabbed her sliver bow, and had began her hunt with only one thought on her mind. Your safety, even if it meant getting rid of those horrid excuse of a parents. Artemis knew she will be better than them, after all she won’t let her child out of her sight at all.

“So long you are within my forests, you safety is ensured. Any transgressions against you or your happiness will be dealt with. All I ask of you is to stay here, after all you witnessed the cruelty of the outer world. Here, you will only find serenity and freedom under my care.”

[whumping-valentine]

🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 11 🦌

"Fear and Fangs"

Content: Rival Cults, Vampires, Blood Rivers

2,000 words

Hey it's time for part 11! So sorry this took 10,000 years 😭 I hate writing. I don't think this is my best work, but I say that about literally everything I ever write, ever, so it doesn't really mean much. It's admittedly choppy and fast paced but I'll be honest I don't care lol.

This is where the plot really starts kicking off and it turns from just another whump story into something that actually has direction.

But yeah, hope you guys like it, you're all awesome!! 😁

       “Where the Hell are you taking me?” Fawn demanded, glaring at Hunter in discontent as they pulled them through the woods.

       “Can’t you go just one moment without the attitude? You can at least pretend to like me, you know.”

       “Absolutely fucking not. I’m not insane, unlike you.”

       Hunter rolled their eyes, “Well, for your information, I want to go and check something out, and you’re coming with me.”

       “Oh, whoopee.” Fawn cheered, tone dead and monotone. “Sounds so fun.”

       "Just shhh." Hunter shushed.

       "Well maybe I don't wanna shhhhh. I want to know where the Hell we're going! What's so important you're dragging me along to come see?"

       "I was kidnapped by a cult last week and I wanna know what's going on."

       Fawn stopped in their tracks, bewildered, "You were fucking what?!"

       "You heard me."

       "Oh, no, no, no. I wanna know! How did that happen? And why the hell are we trying to go and find a kidnapping cult? And how did you get out? What happened?"

        "I told you to shush. You ask too many questions."

        "Uh, I think asking questions is perfectly acceptable in this scenario! Hey!”

       Hunter ignored Fawn as they kept walking, picking up the pace as Fawn kept trying to get their attention, stumbling through the snow behind them. They made it to a small unkempt road, but you couldn’t tell through all the white layers that coated the ground, as well as the vehicle that was left there.

       Hunter opened the passenger door, making a simple command, "Get in the truck."

       "Wha— where the hell did you get a truck?"

       "Stop asking questions and get inside."

       “Oh, yeah, sure. Nothing more trustful and less suspicious than when your captor tells you to get inside a fucking car.” Fawn said, though still obliged, folding their arms in the passenger seat. “Especially when they’re apparently on the search for some fucking cult. Am I some sacrificial lamb, huh? Is that what this is? You made a deal with them to let you go and that’s why you’re being all secretive. Oh, I’ve got you down to a T!”

       Hunter rolled their eyes, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Yeah, definitely. A sacrificial fawn to appease the gods, or whatever.”

       “Sounds so fun. I bet they’re a bunch of cannibals too, they’ll eat my innards and wear my bones like jewelry.”

       “You have such a morbid mind.” Hunter started the truck.

       “Says the murderer. Jesus, this thing is loud, good luck sneaking up on people with this hunk of junk. I know you don’t want me to ask questions but I just gotta know where you found this.”

       “I found it near a road when I ran away from the cult. I would’ve froze to death without it.”

       “Darn, what a shame.”

       “You say that until you’re left stranded in the middle of the woods. You couldn’t survive without me, don’t deny that.”

       “I ain’t. I’ll give you that one.”

       Hunter slowly drove down the snow-covered back roads, bumping up and down, sliding, and finding it difficult to control.

       “You drive like fucking shit.” Fawn said.

       “I never got my license.”

       “That sounds like a you problem.”

       Hunter sped up, then slammed on the breaks, causing Fawn to fling forward. “Oh wow, looks like you weren’t wearing a seatbelt! Sounds like a you problem, doesn’t it?”

       “Ow! Fuck, okay, fine, I’ll take the fucking point.” They grumbled, sitting back in their seat, buckling, “I’ll shut up.”

       “Took you long enough.” Hunter continued driving. Fawn bit their lip and kept their gaze out the window, folding their arms again. “Besides, the road isn’t in good condition. It’s not my fault.”

       After a few silent minutes, Hunter stopped the truck, and turned it off. The roaring engine quieted, and they were left in silence. “Time to get out.”

       “What? You want to leave the car? The one thing shielding us from danger and cold? You want to leave it?”

       “You said it yourself, it’s too loud to sneak around. We have to go on foot. This was the general area I found them in if I remember correctly. Let’s go.”

       Fawn hopped out of the truck and followed behind Hunter as they stalked off into the woods.

       “You know, I can’t believe you’ve survived so long in the woods on your own.” Fawn whispered, “Sneaking through the woods in the middle of winter, looking for a whole cult with nothing but a shotgun? You’re genuinely insane.”

       “Wow, took you this long to figure that out, did it?”

       “No, you just find new ways to impress me in the worst ways possible.”

       "I'll take that as a compliment."

      "Of course, I'd expect nothing less." They rolled their eyes. Though now that the conversation stopped, they were forced to confront their anxiety.

       Fawn tried their best to stay composed and act nonchalant, but it was hard when they were so jittery. This was crazy, and Hunter was crazy, and everything wasn't right and they just wanted to go home to their own bed and sleep and never leave the house again.

       They were incredibly alert and on edge, so they were easily the one to spot something unusual.

       “There!” Fawn suddenly exclaimed in a whisper, grabbing onto the sleeve of Hunter’s coat as they pointed, huddling to hide behind them. Hunter pulled them both behind a tree, staring off into the distance. Among the white of snow, figures moved in the distance, walking across the horizon.

       Hunter narrowed their eyes, "No, those guys are different."

       "What do you mean? They're clearly a fucking cult. I didn't think they'd look so spot on. That's every single stereotypical movie cult I've ever seen."

       "Yeah, but it's not the same one I saw last week. The one I saw last week wore wolf masks. These guys are plague doctors."

       "Are you suggesting there's some kind of rival cult thing going on?"

       "No, but you are."

       “Well that’s the only thing that makes sense if you insist they’re different. Either they’re the same, or there’s two of them. What other answer is there?”

       "Would you please stop asking me questions that I don't know the fucking answer to? God, I'm just as clueless as you are. I don't fucking know. Let's keep looking." They said, and began to walk the direction they were coming from.

       Hunter's eyes were fixated on the horizon, making sure they were staying out of sight, hidden. Fawn, while following, ventured slightly off the path in the other direction. Hunter didn't notice they left until they frantically tugged on their coat.

       "Shit, Fawn." They were startled, "What is it?"

       "Dude. There's a fucking blood river." Fawn said, voice incredulous.

       "A blood river? And you're calling me insane?"

       "Come look at this. Right now. I'm serious."

       Hunter could hear the fear and amazement in their voice. Fawn grabbed the sleeve of their coat and pulled them off through the trees. “Look!” They said, pointing to the river.

       It wasn’t a small creek, though also not too big. It ran along the outskirts of the woods and an open clearing. The water ws indeed dark red. The two crouched down in the snow next to it.

       “Well, it certainly looks like blood.” Hunter said. Fawn reached out to touch it, before Hunter quickly reached out and grabbed their wrist, “Don’t! You don’t know what this shit is or why it’s red.”

       Fawn twisted their wrist from their grip, “I’m not a fucking child, I can make my own decisions.” Fawn again reached down towards the still river, dripping the tips of their fingers into it. The top layer was thick, and despite the cold of winter, it was warm.

       Fawn pulled their fingers from the river, eyes wide, “Hunter, it’s warm.”

       “What? Don’t fuck with me.”

       “I’m not!”

       Hunter, now immensely curious and fearful themself, reluctantly stuck their fingers into the river, only to immediately pull out at the warm feeling, hand shaking. They wiped their fingers in the snow before standing up, slowly backing away. “That’s fucked.”

       "Yeah, I told you!"

       "Fawn, I— I have a confession to make. You remember when I took you out hunting, and it was all foggy?"

       "Uh, yeah?"

       "Well, I don't know if I was crazy or what, but— but I saw a massive deer skeleton. And I'm talking huge. I'd— I'd never seen anything like it, that's why I was so shaken up. I'm really starting to think it was real. I— I thought it was some kind of statue."

       "So… what? You're saying something paranormal is going on here?"

       "Well it certainly isn't fucking normal, I'll tell you that."

       "Yeah, obviously. Some giant skeleton, two cults in the woods, a fucking blood river and your stupid haunted house. That's not just another Tuesday. Are— are you sure this isn't something we're reading too much into?"

       "There's a fucking blood river, Rudolph, of course I'm fucking sure!"

       "Yeah, yeah, okay. And don't call me that."

       "You used to be so mad at the nickname, is there anything that'll make you happy?"

       "I'd be very happy if you weren't some creepy bitch who kidnapped me."

       "I didn't kidnap you, I just took you into my home and didn't let you leave. It's called being held captive, not kidnapping."

       "Oh, that's such a big difference. Please, enlighten me with more of your knowledge."

       Hunter was about to bite back, when an unexpected voice caused the both of them to jump.

       "What's going on here?" A feminine voice asked. One of the masked plague doctors stood behind them, her arms crossed. Hunter instinctively pointed their gun at her.

       “Woah there, mate, put the gun dow— wait—” She peeked under the mask, "Rudy?"

       "Anaira?" Fawn was incredulous.

       Anaira fully removed her mask, “What— I—" She looked at Hunter and pointed, “I saw you at work last week!”

       "Oh, yeah, I found ‘em!" Hunter said, putting an arm around their shoulders.

       "They didn't find me, they're the one who kidnapped me!" Fawn shoved them off.

       "Held you captive." Hunter corrected. Fawn kicked them in the shin, then ran to hug Anaira.

       "Oh, thank fuck! Get me away from this psychopath!"

       "Oh, okay, so you'll trust the cult lady with the plague doctor mask over me." Hunter said, and asked Anaira. "What the hell is with that, by the way?"

       "Why do I need to answer? You're the one who's apparently been holding Rudy captive."

       Fawn looked up at Anira, and it was the first time they had seen her without a facemask on. They took notice of one tiny detail, “Wait, do you have fangs?”

       She ignored them, “Look, both of you follow me, and I’ll explain everything.”

      She didn't give either of them any time to respond as she quickly took off, forcing them to either stay behind or follow.

       She led them through the snowy woods, though it felt like a race to keep up with her. Her cloak blew through the wind as she effortlessly climbed up icy hills, darted through the trees, and jumped through the snow.

       "Can you please tell us what the hell is going on?" Fawn asked as they tried to keep up, “Why are you out in the middle of the woods wearing plague costumes?”

       "It's not easy out here for anyone, Rudolph." She said, "Not humans, not us. I'm trying to get us out of wolf territory. It wouldn't be good to get caught on their turf, especially not by—"

       "Well, well, well, look who decided to come crawlin' in the wrong neck of the woods." A new voice entered the room, the tone and cadence of an older woman.

       Anaira finished her sentence, "—Ethel."

       Ethel chuckled, “Long time no see, Anaira.”

Taglist: @parasitebunny @whumpy-wyrms @fruitypinapple00 @otterfrost

Fawn and Hunter's bickering this chapter reminds me so much of me and my little brother lol. I'm Hunter and he is Fawn. He won't go a single day without insulting me lol

Sorry about the pacing this part.

Lmk in the comments if you want added or removed !

Thanks for reading !! 💕🦌