my2phetaliaheadcanons

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Chains

The plastic grocery bag crinkled and rustled as Francios carried it through the dull, carpeted hall of the apartment complex. His stride was slow, relaxed even as a lit cigarette hung loosely from his dominant hand. Occasionally he would take a puff or two as he walked along the yellowing, cracked walls and after passing each decrypted door, he came to stop at Apartment 339.

As he returned the cancer stick to his lips and lazily riffled through his pockets for a key, he heard it. A faint sound. A thunk, thud, thunk, thud that repeated over and over again. Like someone was rhythmically pulling on something heavy to only be dragged by the rocking structure.

 Francios rolled his eyes with a head shake and puff, as he finally pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the faded door. The sound was a little louder, but the pattern stuttered like the puller had paused to listen. But quickly returned to it. Like they hadn’t heard him enter.

Good.

He moved from the entry silently and placed the bag on the counter. His movements were just as quiet as he removed a block of muenster cheese, a baguette, and a bottle of red wine.

A plate was grabbed from the sink, and after a brief inspection, Francios deemed it clean enough. Thus, he placed the cheese and bread on top and left the wine with the bag, discarded on the counter for later.

He made no effort to hide his footsteps as he left the kitchen and crossed the living room towards the source of the sound. The thunk, thud, thunk, thud lied behind one last door.

Francios didn’t bother to knock on it, instead opening the door and walked in.

The sight before him wasn’t anything new. After all, his Cher was still adjusting. Though, she still had some moments, much to his disdain.

(Y/N), the woman he had claimed as his Cher, lover, and darling, was having one of those right now.

Typically, her flighty nature was something Francios had been able to control with basic chains. For weeks, he had been able to leave her unattended, knowing they prevented her from wandering and fleeing what should have been a happy relationship.

Today, however, she had somehow managed to get her ankles free. He could smell the iron and see the scabs that had begun to form on her once smooth skin as she stood on the wooden floor. Her face was drenched in sweat as (H/C) hairs stuck to her forehead and temples. (Y/N)’s face was set in a determined snarl as she used her arms to help hold onto the chains as she pulled like some kind of psychotic bull, each thunk was her using the chains to try and pull the bed, probably some sad attempt to break the chains, while the thud was the heavy, king sized bed dragging her back.

“Cher.”

Francios’ voice was like a shock to (Y/N)’s system as she turned to look at him. The snarl became more subdued as her body shock.

“Y-you’re home?”  

He nodded, not yet acknowledging her fear as he set the plate on the nearest nightstand before he approached.

“And you are off the bed.”

(Y/N) backed up, her steps as unsteady and frequent as a nervous horse. She brought her hands up to her chest, unsure whether to hold them up to beg or to defend herself.

“You said you were going to be gone for hours…”

“Oui, I was gone for AN hour.”

He came closer. His pale hand reached out for where the metal chains met the wooden frame of the bed.

“Bu-“

Francios grabbed the chain and pulled. The force of the movement caused (Y/N)’s knees to hit the bedframe, knocking her onto the bed with her arms out stretched like she was going to slide on her stomach.

“It does not matter.”

He towered over her.

His face was blank, but his eyes burned with silent promises of pain. Of additional restraints.

“You are mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HI GUYS!! It's been way~ too long. My computer decided to caput and I don't like writing on my phone, but now I've got some new tech. Give me a bit to get my flow back, but have this little ditty that I wrote in practice.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Oh!!! I love it.

An amazing build up for France.

How about yandere 2p face family but make them some kind of supernatural monster. The poor MC just happened to stumble upon their territory…

A/n: this was written with insomnia, zero motivation, and no proof reading. Please ignore all grammatical issues…. yk what i’m trynna say. Yeah, this is poorly written and it sucks, but it’s content.

TW: brief mention of blood

Part one

Ever had the kind of thirst that you just can’t seem to quench? Lungs ablaze, throat burning, and that disgusting taste of pennies on your tongue? And no matter how much you chug, slurp, or gulp; it just doesn’t go away. The feeling of liquid sloshing around your stomach and teeth aching from the cold, but the feeling of thirst still lingers…

Y/N had always carried that sentiment into everything she did. Her brain had that itch that always tingles even if you had already scratched your skin raw. Every one of her endeavors were supposedly “the last,” but it seems that the goalpost is ever moving: however, worry not for this one will be the last.

This addiction had started slowly; exploring abandoned towns, then mineshafts, and now The Catacombs. It seems as though she’s never heard that curiosity killed the cat. She’d started slow, learned the ropes, and felt more prepared than ever to take on this new task. Admittedly, Y/N had always had a fascination for the intricate weaving of the bones into walls, and even more for the many individuals who’d gone in alive, but not left in such condition.

Y/N instinctively closed her eyes in response to the blinding light of her flashlight piercing her unadjusted eyes. She soon opened them to see the glorious sight of rows and rows of ornate skeletal remains. As she ventured further into the labyrinth of bones, she felt a sense of dread magnetic pull towards the darkness. She heard an inhuman sound from the distance… a growling…? No, definitely a hiss or screech of some kind; piercing and echoing throughout the cavern. Her thinking was interpolated abruptly when a swarm of her “thoughts” seemed to fly directly into her face: knocking the flashlight right out of her hand. With a thud and click, her light source vanished away. Y/N’s hand was quick to fly up and swat these intruders away as she dropped to the ground in a desperate search for her flashlight. Hands circulating around the sand until she felt the familiar plastic enter her hand. With a sigh, she clicked the “on button,” and was met with darkness… She smacked it once, nothing, twice, a rattle, and after the third she threw it to the ground. Rolling deeper into the tunnel. Useless.

With both her light source and energy depleted it seemed only logical to turn around and call it a day. If only things could be that simple… Determined, she traveled with an onward stride. The smell of metal filled her nostrils as the path became even steeper. Her scotopic vision finally caught on as she noticed the footsteps on the ground. Squatters? She’d heard rumors of the catacomb people before, but these footprints seemed unnatural… deep rooted and misshapen at the toenail… like talons. Her heart raced with excitement at this discovery. Finally maybe there’d be something interesting enough to quench that thirst… Y/N heard that all too familiar squawks and hisses from the distance as she branded herself for another bat ambush, however, this time was different… Instead of that

impact she was expecting: she was met with only the sound of breathing. The kind of guttural breathing you’d hear in the background of your hospital room. With a soft thud, she felt something being rolled toward her foot. Instinctively, she reached down to the familiar feeling of her flashlight: clicking herself back into that comforting light.

Slowly she raised her flashlight up into the distance. Only to be met with fierce, indigo eyes and a hungry yet blasé expression plastered on his face. Y/N left out a gasp she didn’t even know she was holding in as the “man” bolted toward her. Eyes widening, she bolted, legs cramping with fast strides, lungs ablaze, but this proved futile against the speed of her foe. As calloused fingers grabbed her roughly, pulling her back. Sharp canines sunk into her neck as she left out a desperate cry: her hand intuitively flung toward her wound as the crimson liquid flowed out. Animalistic slurping was ended only by a gargle of a laugh: “We’ve only just started mon cœur qui bat.” Y/N felt him draining her very essence with no end in sight. Insatiably.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Not a request but a question

Does 1p and 2p France know the their way through the catacombs underneath Paris?

And in your opinion, do you think it’s haunted?

Hmmm… that’s a good question.

I would say both of them can get around the catacombs. More so 2p France than 1p. The dude’s been down there so many times it’s second nature. His 1p, it’s not as infrequent since people aren’t buried down there anymore, and he doesn’t remember which halls had the people he did know.

Personally, I do think it’s haunted, but in a weird way. Let me explain, but I don’t know if it will make sense. It’s a place where so many people have been laid to rest so, to me, it makes sense for that energy to remain. I don’t think of it as a malicious haunting or typical thing with angry spirits. More like you feel the energy of the departed has remained and it feels more like a sacred space that should be respected. Ya know? Though I wouldn’t be surprised if it was haunted in a more traditional sense.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

World Building 4?

I think were on 4... I really to complete the master list and it’s been a while… So, lets do another one of these.

So, in a past one of these, I’ve mentioned that both 1ps and 2ps view children as king. Without them, they will cease to be. Makes sense right, you need a new generation to keep having a nation… but adults and teens on the other hand… they kinda fall into categories.

      The first group are those that tolerate their citizens. Nations like 2p France, 1/2p Russia(s), and 1p China views it as a duty to protect their citizens. These nations are the type to that can just as easily help one of their citizens as to leave them to die. They are the often called upon to give advice to their bosses and to lead warrooms, due to their desire to see their people thrive, but are also expected to speak up to prevent their generals from creating suicide plans that could destroy their long legacies.

      Next are nations are protective of their people. These nations tend to put themseleves between their citizens and danger like an overprotective, yet rabid dog. 1/2p America, 2p Canada, 2p Germany and 1p Japan. Some of the nations like these few see their citizens as an extention of the children, so of course they will step up to protect them. Maybe not with the same degree of kindness but will still do something. On the other hand, there is a selfish compentent to it too. You can’t have more kids being born, if there arent any adults, and if you save the ones you like… You can control what the next generation stands for.

      We all knew this group was coming… Its hatred. For one reason or another, these nations HATE their citizens. They will do the bearest minimum when it comes to helping their nations, BUT (as long as it won’t results in their down fall) will do whatever it takes to irk and make life harder for them. Some of these nations are; 1p Canada, 2p Italy, and 1p England. To an extent, it is them being prideful and viewing normal humans as lower beings. Another side of it, we haven’t had to suffer the same losses they do or have been blown off too many times by people to consider it worth helping. Even if they were to fall in love with a citizen, there will always be a a part of them that will look down on them until they can ‘erase’ the humanness from them.

      This kinda goes in with hatred, but its different enough to leave it on here. These are our enviousness nations, i.e. 1p France, 1p Germany, 2p England and 2p China. Nations like them, ache to experience what people take for granted. Living a short existance, finding love, experience ‘some’ loss, but having a system behind them to overcome it. Then to die and leave a leegacy behind them. Wouldn’t that be nice? Anyways, they tend to follow same plan as those that tolerate their citizens but through in some of the pettiness that comes from those in the hatred category when any human pisses them off or they believe is taking their life for granted.

Sometimes it doesn’t matter if it’s a 1p or a 2p, we, normal humans sometimes notice things that make them unnerving. One of those things is their attention span. They are incredably long. You have to remember they came from eras that required focus and, it’s been a trait that has never gone away.

Even those nations that, in comparison, have shorter attention spans when compared to their fellow nations, its still longer than the average human’s. And people that are on the receive end of it, and know it, compare it to one of two things. A starving hunting dog that one isnt sure if they are about to do a job or devour them. The other thing is a uncaring parent, one that watches them because its entertaining but doesn’t feel true affection for the child.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Thanks for the support! The likes are all appreciated. I really like your works!

Sparks

Thank you! I love your works too. <3

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Quick question about the request you’re currently working on.

Since you already did a similar request of yandere 2p allies reacting to their homeless darling, is this one going to be non yandere or are you just going to do yandere 2p axis reacting to their homeless darling?

It will be nonyandere unless I get someone asking for it to be yandere

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Oops… it got queued instead of drafted…. I’ll reblog once it’s done

What would the 2pAllies/2pAxis do if they found out that their darling was homeless?

working on this one

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

What would the 2pAllies/2pAxis do if they found out that their darling was homeless?

working on this one

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Can't send notes from a side account but hi!

-Sparks

Hiya!

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

It’s true.

You WILL be his valentine 🫵

2p America my beloved

Lineart/greyscale under the cut because I think they look pretty too

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Stumbled upon your blog a few hours ago, and I am amazed by it! I love everything you write here.

I wanted to ask: Regarding those past asks about 2p Russia becoming the reader's husband, how would he act? I mean- talking about domesticity ofc.

Imsoobsessedwithhimomfg

It got long I'm sorry, take your time answering!(English isn't my first language aa)

A few hours... *cough, cough* more like years... Sorry for taking so long!! Adulthood sucks.

And again thanks for being so patient. Adulthood can really drag at times when it comes to answering asks. I don’t want to admit how old my oldest ask is…

Anyways, on to the headcanons!!

Viktor as a husband, falls into the traditional sense. He will be the breadwinner and handle the finances and outside areas of the home. While he expects you to handle the inside while being a stay-at-home wife. This makes him soften a lot when you first marry as you settle into the role and change his cold house into a warm home. His favorite thing was how you changed the lay of your master bedroom making it a place of relaxation, a refuge for him to be with you.

At times you and Viktor will disagree. He knows it will happen, its only natural. During those moments, Viktor will make sure it’s a private conversation between the two of you. He will listen as you say your peace and expect you to do the same. If either of you become too heated, he will remove himself. Once the two of you have calmed, then he will allow the discussion to continue. This way no lines are crossed.

When you two have children, he will be more involved with the housework. He’s seen how his sister Ukraine (Maria) struggled to balance him and Belarus (Anastasiya). When he comes home from work, if the babes are nipping at your heels for attention, he’ll scoop them up and away. Distracting them while you finish dinner and then helping you clean up afterward. During his few days off, he’ll give you and the children attention. Sometimes it’s as simple as being active in your lives or other times, it's going out of his way to quietly get you something you want or to make the kids happy.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Short headcanon idea for 2p axis and allies.

How would they feel about a s/o that gives them love bites, not in a sexual way but in a loving way. Like biting their arm while cuddling?

That just sounds super cute.

He yawned as he laid back against the old leather couch. The cushions felt nice against his sore back as the muscles tingled and relaxed.  

He had put on a simple show that he had seen a thousand times now, the familiar lines fuzzed his brain the toll of the exhaustion from work began to show.

His eyes were fluttering shut as you crept into the living room. A smile on your face as you forced your way into his arms. There was no resistance as he sleepily welcomed you and nuzzled your head under his chin.

It was a perfect morning. The rays of first light bleed in as he began to welcome sleep.

A pinch to his bicep jolted him awake as he gazed at his arm.

There you were with an innocent smile and his muscle resting between your teeth. If you were a cat, he would swear you were purring as you remained still attached.

Chuckling with the rasp of exhaustion, he nosed your forehead before traveling lower his lips to your cheek. There was a pause before he nipped your cheek.  

He chuckled at your whine as you let go of his arm. Holding you tighter, he forced you to cuddle with him, a smile on his lips as he fell asleep. – Canada, America, Germany, Italy

He sat at his desk; a variety of different herbs and flowers were scattered across it. His eyes flowed from one plant to another as he thought to himself. His pen scratched the paper as he noted the properties of each and what could happen to a person should they be mixed together.

When you slipped into his station, all he did was tilt his head in hello. A silent way of greeting while expressing his desire to remain focused.

You listened as you quietly slunk up to him. Leaned your chest to his back as you put your face to his neck and took a deep breath of his scent with a sigh. Your arms hung loosely over his shoulders as their weight caused them to droop towards the flowers and herbs.

It was a few minutes of sweet silence and lazy hugs before you became bored. A mischievous smile on your face as you nosed his neck once more.

His hum of acknowledgement stalled mid-note as you bit his neck.

He side-eyed your sweet smile as you let go and snuggled down into his shoulder.

“At least you’re cute.” He smiled back before returning to his work. – China, England

Spring has sprung and the best way to experience it is by going to the park. At least that’s what you told your nocturnal nation of a boyfriend.

To an extent, he would agree it was nice. The two of you walked through the park in the late afternoon and he could smell the flowers’ soft aromas. The sounds of families, friends, and other couples alike enjoying the bounty of nature were enough to make him smile softly.

In the distance, along the path you two walked on, was a wooden park bench facing the pond. It glimmered as the sun started to set, and it seemed like a perfect place to stop and chat.

Gently, he guided you there. Your intertwined fingers allowed him to pull you there without words.

As he went to remove his hand from yours, you huffed and gripped it tightly. A sweet pout on your lips as you gave him a soft, but annoyed look.

“Don’t let go.”  

His heart softened at the words as his smile grew by the length of a mere eyelash. He drew you closer. He brought your intertwined hands to his lips and kissed them softly.

“Never.”

You smiled and lowered the hands to your height. You had intended to be sweet. To place a lover’s kiss upon his scarred and calloused knuckles. But, a part of you called for a more mischievous action due to him thinking to separate your hands so soon. To warn him what would happen if he tried it again.

With a smirk now, you leaned to your joined hands and bite his ring finger. Hard enough that he jolted, but not enough that he felt the need to pull away.

When you release your teeth, you gave it a sweet kiss and looked up at his confused face.

He could only say one thing to your little act. “What the hell was that for?” – France, Spain, Prussia

You peeked around the corner. Smirking as you spotted him in the kitchen.

His posture was loose as he moved about. Dishes were being put away while he waited for something on the stove to finish. A gentle rock in his step as he seemed to let the beat of his heart guide his order of action.

It was perfect… for an ambush.

You waited until his back was turned. A few cups stacked in hand as he turned his back to you. His arm stretched slightly to put them aw-

Rushing, you hugged his back. Nearly knocking the man over as you giggled and opened your mouth. You were centimeters away from sinking your teeth into his shoulder when his palm came up to your forehead.

“No.” He pushed you.

The momentum caused you to fall to the floor with an oof.

“Hey!” You snapped at him with a pout as you sat up. “That hurt!”

He only raised a brow as he shook his head. “I told you not to bite me.”

“But it feels right.” You argue. A mischievous smile on your lips as you slide to his side. “Its like a weird little need, ya know. It just happens.”

His brow stayed raised, maybe even went a little higher.

“If you have to bite something,” He paused as you leaned closer. “We’ll get you a squeaky toy.”

“WHAT?!”

He chuckled at your screams of defiance. – Romano, Russia, Japan

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

First I just want to say I literally adore your writing and get so excited every time you post! Thank you for all of your amazing work!

If you don’t mind, I really loved your scenario with the FACE family bringing their s/o to dinner, would you be willing to do something similar with the Nordics?

Thank you very much, and I’m glad you liked that one. It was fun to write, and now to revisit.

FACE

Denmark’s Darling: Upon hearing his sweet darling’s request to join the family dinner, Markell was surprised. Didn’t you listen to his stories? As fun as the tales are, those dinners aren’t a place for something as soft as you. He doesn’t want to risk you getting hurt by one of his brothers… or taken by them.

But you were persistent and asked in ways that made his cold heart melt. So, you win but only if you follow his terms.

Those terms being that you must follow his lead and commands to a T. If he says don’t eat, then don’t. If he says you can only have water, drink it happily. He’s doing it to keep you safe, trust him.

He does warn his brothers ahead of time that this dinner is to introduce them to his darling. But they don’t believe him. With his stoic nature, they think he’s just talking about a close friend or some favorite politician’s kid forced to hang out with him.

It wasn’t until you walked in on his arm and kissed his cheek did they realized the truth.

There is a lot of loud talk as they all ask questions. They range from surface-level topics like how you met and your favorite color to the more personal topics of whether he is truly keeping you happy.

Just follow his lead and the dinner will go well.

If they or you screw up, then Markell will just keep you away. After all, it’s easier to hide one person than four bodies that regenerate.

Finland’s Darling: Niilo’s answer is no. Absolutely not. There is no way in hel-

Wait. Who’s at the door?

It's his brothers' for dinner. And boy were they shocked to see him with you.

Yeah… Sadly that is the only way you’ll meet Niilo’s brothers. All it takes for him to forget he was hosting. Then you have no choice but to help him out and cook while enduring the mischief of his brothers.

The other members of the Nordics will filter in and out of the kitchen as they help the two of you cook while interrogating you. Even if the questions all stay lighthearted, Niilo would be quick to put himself between you and whatever brother and shoo them out. Threats of bullets and dog teeth if they don’t move fast enough.

Once dinner is cooked, and you all sit to eat, the brothers launch an assault of teasing and questions. Niilo’s easy on you since he thinks it's cute that you get along with his family, but the rest not so much.

Their personal questions and picks at y’all’s relationship make him bristle as he keeps a pistol on the table as a silent threat. Which they proceed to ignore.

At some point in he’s temper blows, and he shoots one of them (Most likely Sweden). As you gasp, he hugs you before you can question him and tells them all dinner’s over and get out.

As the pack of artic hyenas laugh their way out with a couple of them ‘welcoming’ you to the family, Niilo hugs you tighter and sighs.

You can only chuckle as he explains himself, and you hug him back.

Here’s hoping the next dinner goes smoother.

Iceland’s Darling: You had only known Erlingr for two weeks when he decided it was time to introduce you to the family. You didn’t even know he had brothers nor where he lived when he decided this.

When he tricked you into coming to his house, and meeting his family for the first time, none of them were shocked that you were there. If anything, they gave you small looks of pity as they realized you were oblivious to what he was trying to do.

The dinner went well. Lots of food, games, and tales were told. It wasn’t until everyone tried to leave that you realized he had problems.

For starters, Erlingr broke your car. And it's not an easy break, it’s was control arm behind both front tires. Which means you can’t drive on it at all.

Then when you tried to call for a tow truck, Erlingr ‘accidently’ bumped you and your phone fell into the full sink.

As more misfortunes happen, each of the brothers shakes their heads and pat you on the shoulder before leaving. One of them, feeling some pity, said someone would come for you in three months.

Before you can question the last brother as he leaves, Erlingr hugs you tightly. He practically purrs with happiness as the door shuts.

It's just the two of you now.

Norway’s Darling: Lidolf was excited when you asked to meet his family. After all, it means plenty of attention for him too!

He doesn’t tell anyone when he will bring you to the family dinner. He lets it be a surprise when he walks in with you on his arm.

They’re surprised when he moves you to sit on his lap as he introduces you to them all. Then vibrates as the two of you are given loads of questions. He soaks up the attention and answers it all. Lidolf will let you answer from time to time, but otherwise, it's easier to let him go through all the details.

Overall, his dinner is the smoothest. Its light hearted and happy as he gets to do a few of his favorite things. Take the spotlight, have your pretty body on his arm, and have his brothers’ jealousy.

Sweden’s Darling: Bernard would fall further in love if you asked to meet his brothers. After all his sons already loved you, why wouldn’t they?

He hosts the dinner but asks his brothers to keep the location quiet due to introducing you. Bernard wouldn’t want his boss to take you like he did the others.

The dinner for the most part is normal. Just maybe a little louder as Bernard enjoys showing off his latest treasure to the family.

At least it would have been if it wasn’t raided.

Poor you, pulled away by a swat team as the brothers scatter and had to watch as Bernard went berserk as he reached for you.

After your government-sponsored rehab period, you’ll know your true feelings. If you really loved Bernard, you’re returned and he’ll throw a welcome back party with his brothers. If not… Sleep with one eye open and a bag packed. Bernard will be at your door soon.

Regular Dinner: A normal ‘family’ dinner between these five is usually chaotic. Especially when Sweden brings his boys over. But, it’s the kind everyone wants to be a part of. The loud chats about their current life status, retelling of old tales, and reminiscing of times long past. Once in a while, these dinners do get a bit violent. Someone just has to bring up a victory over the other and rub in too much salt on an old wound. Then hit the deck as bullets and flames fly between the strikes of blades.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

2p America, Canada, Russia, England and France with a mysterious novelist that has continued to evade them because they enjoy their safety.

Spicy! I’m sorry it took so long! But it's here, and it's done!

It’s raining again.

The thought rang out against the silence of the streets like the thunder did above. It echoed and bounced around my brain like the heavy drops that fell around me. Each small droplet that hit my umbrella slid off toward the hard ground, they splashed before joining their brethren as one of the various puddles. Then just like that thought and singular drop did both disappeared. Fading back into the emptiness of my mind.

I carried that emptiness with me. It followed like a second skin as I continued my walk home in the rain.

My slow steps eventually reached the familiar walkway of my home. The singular paved way of stones that led to my grey, front door.

The one that should have been locked. Shut tight to protect its valuable insides from the elements and threats.

Yet, it stood before me ajar.

In the evening light I could see the dark crack behind the door. In the silence it called to me. Whispering tales of untold dangers. Threats that could be lurking in the shadows of my safe place.

As I bit into my lip in thought, my brain fought the darkness’ song with logic. I could have left the door unlocked. Maybe the wind knocked at the door just right. There was probably nothing inside but a couple leaves…

Something moved.

My feet stuck to the stone like I was a statue as I swear something flickered briefly in the dark crack.

Was that an eye? A piece of clothing?

No, I took a step back as the rain pounded against my umbrella. This was beginning to feel familiar.

A poor girl, young and tired returned to an empty home. The first victim that lied within the ink of my latest mystery/thriller.

SHE found her door unlocked.

SHE played it off.

SHE discovered the killer in her house.

SHE DIED.

A draft I had shown no one. Not even my editor.

And yet, this was too similar.

To exact to be anything but a recreation of my undisclosed work.

I shudder as I take another step back. I can feel my heart race against its cage, my breath picked up as the door starts to open.

I can’t stay here.

Acting on instinct as I see a shadow of a man, I bolt. Away into the storm.

Nature would be safer than whoever that predator was.

America: Baby-doll, *glass crashes* it’s time to put down that pen and come with me.

 Allen’s not the happiest man as you use mystery logic to evade and escape. Like who just keeps a lock pick on their person? No one… unless you’re a 2p that is. But that’s different according to Al, he needs it to work.

The worst part is that you saw through his ploys to enter your life. Which means there is no emotional trap he can pull. He would be lying if he said that fear isn’t a pretty look on you.

Over time, Al’s pride will be crushed, just like with the professor. So, he eventually does something similar: He surprises you by holding your loved ones at gunpoint.

I would say it’s either him or them.

But we all know, it’s him.

Canada: Maple…

Matt’s torn. He loves the thrill of the hunt. The fact you use the research from your books to dodge his hands makes him ‘hungry’. At that same time, it pisses him off because he has to return to a cold cabin empty-handed.

Why can’t you just submit? Let him take care of you. He promises it is safe.

As long as you stay inside.

Eventually, he can’t handle your escape attempts any longer. It’s time to change these little sprints of attempts into a full marathon win.

Just like a good mystery, he’ll start by herding you into the woods. One where he’s certain that if he and Kuma can keep you from the road long enough, you’ll give up. Too tired to fight back, he’ll take your exhausted self to his home.

Hope you're ready to become a piece of local folklore.

Russia: любимый, come quietly and I promise you, that your career can continue.

Viktor will watch your escape attempts and evasions with a quiet, yet prideful disdain. He admires the skills your writing has helped you to craft but hates how they take you further from him.

It makes him wonder to what extent he should contain you. If he were to buy your publisher’s company. Then buy your manager. Perhaps a blacklist that prevents you from finding another publishing company and undermines any outlets you try to put your work out.

Those might be enough. If he’s lucky you’ll come crawling to him first.

If not, at least he’ll warn you before your stubbornness just gets you shoved into a car.

England: Poppet, it's time you become the damsel of your own mystery.

Sweet Ollie feels like you’re playing hard to get. Flirting with him almost as you try to twist and turn out of his grip.

Each escape causes his eyes to twitch and swirl with pink as his smile only widens. Maybe it was time to call in a couple ‘mysteries’ he knows well.

Sure, you’ll scream as various different beasts and things from local folklore come after you. But once you’re in his arms, you’ll happily let him hold you, if only to keep the monsters away. Show him the sides only he gets to see. Don’t show them to anyone else.

And they’ll stay away.

France: No more running Mon Cher.

Unlike most other chases, where François quickly resorts to drastic and yet effective means, this one he happily drags out.

The French man is eager to see how far he can push you and how much of your own work you will use to escape him. He hopes to catch you in a trap from your own works, but… if that doesn’t work he will settle for a different piece of mystery.

You won’t last forever. Eventually, he’ll find the right puzzle. The correct trope that will drag you into his arms.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Part 2

I forgot how fun this story way to write. It may only be two parts but man does it make me chuckle.

It’s Weird It Happened Twice Part 1

A short, chubby, 5-year-old girl followed behind her mother like a yellow, fluffy duckling through the various aisles of the local grocery store. Together they filled a silver cart with shiny bags of snacks and boxes of green produce until the buggy contained a great tower of foods and goods.

As they crossed the checkered tiles to the self-checkout bullpen, our tiny heroine stopped. Gasping with wide eyes at the display case full of colorful candies. Everything from her favorite chocolates to the sourest of gummi worms was all softly chatting to her. Calling for her by name, begging to be consumed in the animalistic way only a child could.

“Maisy. Maisy!”

When her silence continued, a hand joined the new, louder voice to shake Maisy from the sweets’ siren song. She finally jumped and turned to see her mother standing there with a quirked brow and an amused smile.

“Whatcha lookin at Daisy-Maisy?”

Pointing to the large display, Maisy spoke with a smile and big puppy dog eyes. “Momma, can we get some? Pretty please?”

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but candy isn’t in the budget this week. Maybe we could make some cookies instead?”

Maisy pouted and questioned why. Every other time they came to the store she got candy, what made today any different?

Sighing, her mother gave her a gentle push forward. “I promise you that cookies will taste infinity times better than those.”

Huffing, Maisy turned her head to make one more attempt. “But, momma I feel icky and candy could make it go away!” Her arms crossed over her belly as she curled inward to emphasize the severity of her sudden ‘disease’.

Chuckling, her mother shook her head. “If it’s that bad maybe a doctor with a shot would do you better. They could make sure that the pain will never come back.”

“No!! I’m fine momma. See!” Maisy jumped up and down before showing her ‘muscles’ to show her health.

Heartily her mother laughed before ushering her forward again to the checkout. “Alright, I believe you.”

As cows herded toward a new pen, Maisy and her mother fell into the long line. Maisy rocked on her toes between steps as she heard the high-pitched, monotone beeps of the registers. As they slowly made their way to the line’s front, and with a quick nod from the apathetic employee they pulled up to the open blue and silver register.

Her mother was quick to follow her predecessors by continuing the patterns of shrill beeps, but Maisy paid it no mind.

For her old tempter was back once more. The cheap checkout candy display cast its spell, this one feeling stronger than the one minutes prior.

As the low-quality candy sang, she smelt something that made her young mind think of burnt eggs and smoke. A deep voice from her right spoke saying, “Take it.”

Squeaking, Maisy stumbled backward closer to the cart. Her mouth dropped in shock at the figure before her.

He was tall with blond hair that would have made him appear normal, and handsome even if it wasn’t for the sharp, black, ram horns protruding from his head, the dark, bat wings on his back, and the long spade tail.

“Hey, darlin.” He smiled lazily with a mouth full of fangs as he lowered himself to Maisy’s level. “Heard you weren’t feelin too hot. Do you still need that candy cure?”

Maisy stuttered, and questioned who he was, as she felt paralyzed by his wild, blue eyes.

Chuckling, with snake-like motions the demon used his tail to push the unsteady child closer to the shelves. “It doesn’t matter, but come on sweetheart. Just take one.”

“But,” Maisy glanced back to her mother. Noting that she seemed unaware of her daughter’s dilemma “Momma said that I can’t.”

���Well, Momma doesn’t need to know. After all, you would only gonna take one,” His smile somehow grew even bigger. “right?”

Blinking Maisy asked how she would do that. Moms know everything.

Moving to squat beside her, he gestured her closer. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Moms don’t know everything. Besides she can’t even see me and that should be proof enough that I’m right.”

As he pulled back, Maisy looked at her mother once more, watching her having scanned and bagged most of the cart.

“Also, wouldn’t your pockets hold a candy bar better than those cookies she promised?”

“I guess your right,” Maisy said as her stare returned to the cheap display.

Her tiny hand reached out to grasp the silver and red chocolate bar. Small fingers grazed the smooth, papery wrapper when a large, tanned hand grasped her own.

Maisy gasped and snapped her head to the left. Startled to see another man, this one had appeared somewhat similar with the same face and build as the demon, but at the same time, he was different. Blue eyes were now red, his hair a copperish crimson, and instead of bat wings, the stranger had shining, white, and silver eagle wings. Finally, a sparkly halo sat on his head instead of the evil-looking horns.

The new creature ignored her stare as his fiery glare was fixed on the other. “What do you think you’re doing Alfred?”

The now-dubbed Alfred stood to his full height. Smile tight as he leaned forward. Hand gesturing to Maisy. “Curing this child of her sudden illness, Al~.”

“By convincing her to steal?!”

“Her mother failed, so I’m stepping up.”

Forcing a rush of air out of his nose, Al kneeled before Maisy. His body softened as he pulled her closer before releasing her hand. “Did that piss head hurt ya, pigeon?”

Maisy quickly shook her head no while blinking her eyes owlishly. Before a quick tug moved her away from Al and back to Alfred.

“Allen, you can’t use that language around a child!”

He scoffed as he reached for the child again. “I will use it as I please. Especially” Allen dragged Maisy back to him. Wrapping his tattooed arms around her. “If it helps get the damn message through their thick ass skulls faster.”

“ALLEN!”

Ignoring the flustered demon as his black wings flapped, Allen forced Maisy to look him in the eye.

“You love your mother?”

Maisy nodded with a little hum.

“Then do you know what happens to mothers when you steal?”

Wide-eyed Maisy shook her head no again.

“They get sad. Like so sad that you can hear their hearts shatter like that prick’s ego.”

“Is that loud?”

“Very.”

For the second time that day, Maisy softly ohed as she looked at the candy behind the angel. Her lips pouted and then trembled as she realized how she could have broken her mother’s heart. Her eyes filled with tears at the fear of her mother dying because a broken heart sounded deadly to her young mind.

The blue-eyed demon gritted his teeth as he pushed the angel over and onto the dirty tile. “Now, look what you’ve done! She’s crying, how is she gonna steal if she’s in tears!”

Grinning Al stood and pushed Alfred back before spreading his arms in an ‘I win’ gesture.

Maisy’s sobs went ignored as the two continued to shove each other. Getting more aggressive and throwing in insults before Al had enough and tackled the demon. Causing them both to fade like the text on a PowerPoint.

Now feeling alone Maisy’s cries became hysterical as she ran back to her mother. Crashing into her legs as she begged her mother not to die.

Shocked her mother pulled her into her arms. Shushing her and muttering calming phrases as she urged Maisy to explain the reason behind her tears.

Maisy hiccupped as her emotions finally calmed. She sought out additional comfort by burying herself deeper into her mother’s embrace. Repeating her pleas for her not to die.

With a confused giggle, her mother promised that she wouldn’t. Asking if she was ready to go home and make some cookies.

With a sleepy yes, Maisy was carried out of the store as the cart squeaked. The warmth of her mother chasing away the memory of the demon and angel for now.

Before anyone asks, I have dubbed this AU already. It is Ornery Angels because that can be the only true opposite of the Sweet Devils. And part 2 is already in the work, hopefully I can get it out soon.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Unasked for Questions/Opinions About A Random Thing: Hybrids

I struggled with some motivation this week, and I wanted to post something...

So we have this thing.

This may or may not become a series in which, as the title says, I share opinions and questions about things that no one asked for. But only when I have no motivation to answer asks or work on other projects. These aren't meant to be any kind of attack or judgement, its all in good fun. And I don't expect much to come from it..

Anyways on to the backstory for the topic of Hybrids!

This all started because my motivation was in the dirt and I was tired of seeing all the Chat-Ai bot commercials. So, I did what anyone would do, I go two of the apps and played around to see if it could motivate me, and it did. Just to play around more.

Looking through as I played around, I tried a few different ones, and even made my own, but the hybrid models left me with questions and opinions that caused me to reflect on the character type/trope/what ever other thing it can be classified as.

And to be honest, I have read quite a few hybrid fanfics and original stories so I wasn't going in blind, but just realize some things.

And if you have any feed back or things to add, feel free to. I would like to see where this goes or if it gives people ideas.

Of if you have any works that could fit/answer these questions please send them my way. I would love to read them.

Why aren't there groomers? Like the hybrid equivalent of dog groomers, I get if they society has hybrids as equals to people, but in the case they are pets, it should be something to include. Especially if the hair on their head is fur. It acts different and different species have different needs. Like if its a GSD, you're gonna want him to be deshed. Because your poor shower drain if you don't. Or it's a cute set up for a meet-cute. Either way.

Services, a lot of stories take place at home, a shelter, a zoo/aquarium, labs or in the wild. Where's the daycare equivalent, like you could do a basic kennel situation with some playrooms or go EXTREME! By having a large center that's like an amusement park style daycare with different areas for different things; hunting, playing, sleeping, eating, mating if your feeling spicy. Then make them as fancy as you want. What is they also were boarding facilities too and the hybrids/owners could customize their experience to what the animal side required? What if it was ran by a hybrid in secret, one that didn't like humans and all the employees were instructed that there was a 100% owner compliance rule. That once the human owner was behind a certain point anything their hybrid said went? And what about pet sitting, training? How does those come into play? I know many stories do mating as their own industry, but what other type of ways can it be done?

Are they treated by a vet? But branched like exotic animals where it is considered a specialty, with some vets having no training to help them? Or is it a human doctor with some veterinary training? Do they go to the Human ER or Vet ER? What about dental care, if we worry about wisdom teeth, what about them?

How are they categorized? Like at what point is a hybrid considered livestock animal, work animal, a pet/companion, an exotic or wild life? Is it the animal side of them or is it their personality? Do you need any type of license for specific groups? What about owning the more wild ones? Where is the law in this?

Why do we write hybrids as those that enjoy being pets? I get some would, but like, personally, I would struggle with someone else having that level of control over me, even if I did have animal like tendencies and instincts. There has to be one, where the hybrid is grumpy and over being seen as a pet, even if their human sees them as a mate or friend. Like what if he tries to flip the script and make his owner/human the pet and take care of them? What if there was a law to allow them to present in court that they deserve to be seen as a person? What happens if granted and what happens to the human they leave behind? And what happens if they flip the script of authority legally rather than just forcing submission and house arrest?

Can they be service animals? If so, do they get fancy vests and badges? More freedom to act and even speak for their owner if they are seen as a pet in their society. Or is seen as equal in the work of fiction, is it like a different type of nurse? Like a job only they can fill and work in shifts? What if a blind person has a hybrid as their guide, do they switch every 8-12 hours? Just emailing where the blind person is and hand off the person like a clock in ticket?

Would they have to segregate places? Because imagine you have an cat allergy and a hybrid feline sits by you. Then the MC has an allergic reaction of varying degrees, wouldn't it be safer if your separate? What happens if a hybrid is allergic to a human? Or are they hypoallergenic?

So, if a hybrid is mixed with livestock. Are they gonna be eaten!? Like if its a pig-girl or cow-boy are they being fatten up and turned to steak? Or is it other things they are used for? Like cows for milk, pigs for truffle hunting and garden care (not gonna lie, I had to google for the pigs.)?

That's all I have. I would be curious to see the answers, but no pressure.

I may or may not use these for projects latter on (I can already see where I can use these with my characters). But it was fun to write these out.

Feel free to reblog, add thoughts, use for ideas and whatever.

Have fun!

Thanks for reading my madness of questions no one asked for.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Day 3 - The Warren

Day: 1, 2

As you looked up, a shuttered gasp was your only response. A pale ‘man’ towered over you, his blue eyes swirled with vivid shades of pink as your eyes remained locked. A small twitch threw your eyes to the top of his head, and then downward back to the floor as you discovered his two long, strawberry-blond rabbit ears. Their fur appeared velvety in the glimmers of light as they floated centimeters about the floor.

But the appearance of softness meant nothing as you shivered. The stranger had his full weight on you. Pinning your stomach to the stone as his clawed hands pushed against your shoulders. His wide smile seemed off as you felt his hands clench and relax against your tense muscles.

A silent warning.

Stay still.

For a moment longer he stared. Ignoring the barking and snarling that echoed off the stone and soil. Until two shadows fully bathed the two of you in the soft darkness. Only then did the ‘man’ slowly turn his head upward to the front of the hole.

Your eyes followed his as you saw the two canids. They were reunited. The copper coywolf next to the blond wolf. Both snarled at the rabbit man. Drool dripped down their chins as they glared from the exit. It was a tense stand-off. One that you could taste as it choked your throat.

“Now, boys.” He spoke. “It looks like you’re a touch too late.”

His hands moved. They slide like cold serpents down from your shoulders to your hips.

The dogs responded with thunderous growls; the blond took the lead. His large, scarred hand reached forward into the hole. A promise of pursuit as his nails dug into the soil.

Somehow, the rabbit’s smile grew even larger.

“So, that’s how you want to play it.” He chirped.

It was like a flash bang went off when he grabbed your bag from your back. He pulled hard enough that you felt the straps snap and your body rise off the floor.

You hit the floor with a grunt as he threw it at the blond. Then with his sharp hands flipped you over. Your stomachs now touching.

The wolf caught the bag and threw it at the other, dashing down the hole. The coywolf yelped but was quick to follow after.

The rabbit wasted no time in forcing your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist.

“Hang on, Love.”, was all he said, before jumping backward down the tunnel.

Shocked, you slotted yourself against his bare chest and prayed for strength to return to your weary limbs as you felt the rabbit man move.

Out of your periphery, your heart raced as you saw the beasts run forward. The blond’s large canines glinted as he snapped at your shirt. The copper one following behind, his bays reverberated around you.

Yet, the rabbit seemed more confident. His movements were fluid as they came to a more open space. In the dim light, his hand moved to the small of your back as he turned from his backward movements to a more forward one.

You almost screamed as the world turned upside down. Your hips bounced as the beast man changed his stride.

He picked a tunnel to the right, and your bodies bounced off each other as he tried to spirit you away from the dogs.

The chase felt like a morbid rollercoaster. Each turn he took felt like a rocking cart as your weight swayed to the balance of the rabbit. The hills and valleys of the tunnel mazes became dizzying as he kicked up dirt.

As the world of tunnels grew darker, so did the growls soften. In the inky blackness, the labyrinth became near silence. Soon the only sounds you could hear were the rapid beat of your heart and the faint heavy breathing from the rabbit.

You could feel his running slow. Then stop as he came to another open cavern. One of his clawed hands reached again to the small of your back. This time, with an unexpected gentleness, he caressed it. His head lowered to your tucked face and whispered.

“It’s okay now, Poppet.” His breath tickled your ear as your arms trembled. “We’ve gotten away, you can let go.”

With a heavy breath, you dropped. Your limbs fell to the earth like they had gone numb. While your head luckily, was still being held by the strange man. Who paused at your collapsed state before easing it onto the dirt.

 All you wanted in that moment was to take in the darkness. Let the coolness of the dirt and peace around you take you away. To fall asleep. To pray that this time, you would wake up at home. In your bed.

But, you couldn’t. Not when that rabbit thing hovered nearby. Especially not when several questions banged around your head when you remembered he spoke.

Slowly, you rose up. Gazed at where you assumed he moved to and you called to him.

“Thank you.” You started, “But, who are you?”

You heard the rabbit shuffle closer to you again, a smile in his British voice, replied.

“My name’s Oliver, Poppet. But you are welcome to call me Ollie. And you are?”

Nodding you spoke your name as your dominant hand reached to your neck. Fingers felt for the headlamp and slumped forward at the relief of its mechanical presence. “Where are we?”

“The warren, aka" He stated proudly. "my home.”

You gave another nod as you pushed for more details. What was that place above, who were those beasts, and what were they?

Oliver hummed for a second. “I’d be more than happy to answer you, Darling. But, not here.” You heard him shuffle towards you again, this time you felt his hand on yours. “Those boys could still be in the tunnels, and I would hate to be ambushed during a good chat.”

“Where do we go then?”

Oliver chuckled. “To the nest, Love.”

Before you could question why a rabbit would have a nest, he tugged you along. His long nails loosely grazed your hand as you were forced to crawl in front of him.

At another tunnel entrance, he pushed you through. “Go on, Poppet. I’ll be right behind you.”

With no other choice, you moved forward. Just like your first race through the tunnels, Oliver led. This time, from behind. He didn’t complain about your slow pace but instead commented on how rough it must be for a soft being like yourself to navigate these tunnels.

You didn’t comment back much. Just little nods and hums of agreement. Especially as the rough terrain scrapped against your palms and knees.

How the heck did he fly down these halls?

“Alright, Poppet.” His hand came to rest on your back. He whispered to you.

“I’m going to need you to lean low." Before you could question why. He finished his dialogue with a simple. "Then, you’ll have to forgive me for climbing over you.”

“What?! Why?!” You scream-whispered.

“Because,” He giggled. “How else will I be able to open the door. You don’t quite have the strength to do it?”

You oh’ed and squished yourself flat. A small heat on your cheeks at the innocence of the situation. Then realized he mentioned a door. You didn’t see a door in the darkness. Nor come to a crashing halt. Where was-

Oliver hopped over. Even in the tight space and dark, you were sure it was graceful.

You heard his feet move against the dirt. They sounded large as he pushed open a wooden door, and a teal-blue light flooded the tunnel.

Astonished, the light didn’t hurt your eyes. You blinked, finally seeing Oliver in his full lagomorphic glory.

You were right, his feet were large, and just like the dogs from before the rabbit legs reached up to his knees. They were well-muscled and coated in what appeared to be thick, strawberry-blond fur. Luckily a simple, brown loincloth kept him decent. As he turned to invite you into his nest, you were able to see his tail. It looked like someone flicked a fat glob of whipped cream onto his backside. It was a perfect swirl of white and pink fur. His arms were lean and had patches of fur that flowed up to a matching chest. His smile and strange eyes were still bright as he leaned back to you. His hand took yours as he pulled you inside.

Allowing yourself to be dragged inside, you sat near Oliver as he shut the door. You watched as he pushed it outward with a heavy grunt. Then he produced a petrified-looking log and barred the door with it.

He clapped his hands and turned back to you with a satisfied smile.

“Righty-o Poppet. Now,” He moved through the circular room to sit in the pile of the glowing moss and fur that sat in its center. His hand gestured to a spot next to him. “What were your questions again?”

Slowly, you crept to the spot and settled on the moss and fur. Your hand carded through the material before repeating your questions.

What was that place above us? What are you? Who were those two dog beasts? And what did they want from me?

“That’s right.” He nodded. Then he thought for a moment. “Well, poppet we don’t really have a name for this place. Most of us just call our territories home, but I never heard of a land getting some kind of title.” His hand waved as if he dismissed the thought of the creatures here being united under a single-named land. “As for what we are," He smiled and leaned closer. "Primitiva Animarum, is what we call ourselves at the very lea-”

“But, what does that mean?” You interrupted.

Oliver’s eyes swirled pinker for a second as his eyes became hard. His hand reached up and covered your mouth. You could feel the claws dig into your cheeks as his smile became demeaning.

“Now, Poppet it’s rude to interrupt. Let me finish your questions and then you may speak.”

You nodded quickly. The silent threat prevented you from making a sound.

“Good” He purred while removing his hand. “Now, where was I?” His fingers tapped against his chin before snapping. “That’s right, as Primitiva Animarum, we are beings with more,” His eyes rolled as he struggled to find the right word. “primitive instincts. The desire to survive and feast. Just like the animals that exist outside of this place. And like them, we vary greatly in appearance and strategy.”

You nod again. Unsure why he would describe himself so basely. He seemed to act with more sense than the previous two. Almost like a human cosplaying as a hybrid creature.

“Regarding the boys. That would be Allen and James. A pair of canid brothers that own the meadow above. They have for moons now, and they wanted to eat.”

“Eat?” You echoed, dread again filling the pit of your stomach.

“Yes,” Oliver nodded. “Eat you.”

“But,” You shuffled backward. “I’m Human! Sure, I’m made of flesh, but we’re so similar in appearance.”

“So?” Oliver cocked his head as he smiled sharply. “How else do you expect to survive?”

“Aren’t there other creatures here, things that aren’t the Primitiva Animarum?”

Oliver just shook his head. His eyes sly as he spoke. “Just us.” He paused for a moment. “And the occasional human.”

Your chest felt tight as your lungs burned. You realized how close you had just been to being devoured. The materials of the nest seemed to wrap around your legs. Trapping you to the floor while the walls closed in. If it wasn't for Oliver, you would have been dead. As you rolled into the fetal position, your eyes drifted to the blocked door. If it’s a dog-eat-dog world here, that means you've locked yourself in with a predator.  A helpless meal that happily walked through his door?

Sensing your fear, Oliver leaned forward. His nails caressed your hair as he cooed to you. “It’s ok Poppet, I’m a part of the leporines.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re safe.”

You lifted your head, and slightly leaned it to the right as you looked at Oliver. “What do you mean?”

“Leporines tend to eat plants.” He grabbed a lock of your hair. As he drew his arm back, he let it fall between his fingers. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

You watched it fall, chewing your lower lip all the while. Your mind replayed Oliver’s words. It made sense, he’s a part rabbit. You’ve never heard of a rabbit eating meat or anything about a rabbit killing a human.

He also saved you. And in no easy feat, carried you from danger into his odd, little nest.

As you released a calm, steady breath. You met his eyes and reached out for his hand. A simple, thank you left your lips as you glided your hand across his.

Oliver smiled back at you. His expression softened with a dark look in his eyes as he used his free hand to hold your cheek.

“You don’t have to thank me, Poppet.”

You yawned and leaned into his hand. The calmer atmosphere started to sink into your weary bones.

The Primitiva Animarum chuckled as he looked upon your blunter teeth. His hands moved to your arms, messaging them until he stopped at your shoulders. “You must be tried.” He then hopped back, removing himself from you. “Why don’t you rest, while I go gather some herbs for dinner.”

Before you could even question or argue Oliver pushed you down. His sudden pounce knocked the air out of you as your back collided with the nest.

“Just rest.” Oliver put his head close to yours. His clawed hands groped at your flesh in a poor attempt to ease their ache. His breath tickled your ear as he purred. “Your muscles feel so stiff. Dinner will taste so much better if you relax.”

The feeling of shock returned as you stared. All you could think to do was agree as he continued his handsy behavior.

“Good.” He muttered. This time, he removed himself slowly like he feared you wouldn’t listen. When you didn’t get up, but instead cuddled down into the moss, he turned and left. The wooden door screeched as it trapped you in his nest with the log cast off to the side.

You were cut off from the rest of this strange world.

With Oliver gone and the silence of the warren around you, exhaustion and relief finally bore their full weight. The brunt of it sat on your eyelids as they drooped. Then closed.

A feeling pulled at your lower abdomen. It was subtle enough at first that it could be ignored but then became intense. Then changed to a full feeling as you rolled. With a huff, you rose but regretted it as your bladder fluttered. You had your new dilemma.

To find a place to pee.

Now alert, you floundered to crouch. Your eyes followed the walls as you looked for an outlet or a side tunnel.

There was a spot to the right where the glowing moss thinned. The shadows around it created the appearance of a solid curve, but as you crawled closer, you felt a gap.

A tunnel!

Like a drunk man on his fifteenth drink, you dove through. You followed the grooved surface as it ran deeper, and thankfully not darker. The outlet eventually evened as you found another section of glow moss.

In the faint light, you saw another opening to your right. With no fear, you turned to it. Hoping that it would be a bathroom of some sort.

Creeping inside you expected a bad or unusual smell.  Instead of the scent of earth or a latrine, it was iron. Faint, but distinct enough to give you pause.

Your nails ground against the loose soil as dread began to rise. The words from Oliver played like a skipping CD in your brain.

Leporines tend to eat plants. Tend to eat plants. Tend to. Tend. TEND.

Your gut dropped.

Adrenaline made quick work of shutting up your bladder. The crawl became painfully slow as you came closer to the end. The smell of iron became stronger, and somehow wetter. Like someone had turned on a rusty hose. Or been heavily wounded.

The light was beginning to become fainter as the moss was left behind. In the dimness, you pressed on but hissed as your knee bumped something.

It was sharp. And slashed your knee as it bounced up to hit your arm.

Leaning back, you grabbed your leg. The wound didn’t look too big or deep in the faint light. Your blood flowed like a warm, sticky river as it gushed and covered your calf. Quickly, you grabbed the bottom of your shirt and forced it against your knee. You held it for a few minutes, and the flow slowed. Then stopped.

Satisfied with your makeshift treatment, you reached for the object that hurt you.

At first, you weren’t sure what it was. The object was dark and looked broken. Almost like something had chewed the original piece until it snapped. You leaned back more to hold it up to the light. Rotating it in your hands, you gasped and dropped it.

It was bone. A human-looking bone. One that had deep bite marks.

Disgusted, you kicked it away.

It clattered and banged. The cacophony didn’t sound like stone. More like bowling pins when the ball hits a strike.

Shakily, you crawled again. Chasing the source of the sound.

Your hand slipped against an edge. Then your other went down against the cliff side. In a flurry of panicked pushes were able to help you regain your balance as you backed up. The stability of the earth beneath your palms and knees was only comforting for a moment.

Sweat beaded as you looked down. The urge to vomit became great as stomach acid rolled up to climb your esophagus.

Bones. Bones everywhere.

The cavern was full of them. They came in all sizes and shapes. Even from this distance, you could make out a few dismembered skulls.

It felt like a morbid collection.

Or a sign.

He was gonna eat you.

You dashed back. Scrambling to fly like Oliver had earlier through the tunnels.

You raced back up through the first tunnel as you recalled that first interaction with him.

"Now, boys.” He spoke. “It looks like you’re a touch too late.”

He didn't mean that in terms of rescue.

He meant it as a boast.

That you would HIS DINNER.

Nails broke further as you reached the nest. Your head whipped around as you looked for the rabbit.

He wasn’t there.

You have a chance to escape.

Pulling at the door, you grunted. A come on, breathe between your clenched teeth.

It groaned. Moaned as it moved an inch at a time. The bottom of the door rattled as it caught and released itself from the floor.

You didn’t have time to wait. When you felt the door open wide enough, you forced yourself through like a panicked cat.

Then paused.

You forgot about the dark.

In a panic, you rushed to your neck. Scrambling with pained fingers for the headlamp. A loud click resonated as you forced the button down.

In an instant, the labyrinth ahead was bathed in an artificial, white glow.

Steeling your resolve, you moved the lamp to your head. A deep breath to steady your shaking hands before you crawl forward. Your hands and tender knees padded along the dirt. Your pace was even at first, steady like the rapid beat of your heart. Each turn you took; you paused to listen and glance around.

You hope that just like your fall into the mines, something would signal an exit. A breeze, a glint or glimmer, something would save you.

“Poppet!”

His call was faint. A mere echo off the walls as you turn to look behind you.

There was nothing there, but that didn't mean he wasn't in pursuit.

Moving more rapidly, you ignore Oliver’s calls. You scramble to move faster up the tunnels as his voice grows louder.

“Dearie!” He pleads as sweetly as nectar. “Come out! I promised not to hurt you!”

You start to pant. The tunnels feel tighter as you turn a corner. The earth beneath you shook.

Is he running?

His cries were getting louder. More desperate and frequent like an overprotective parent calling for their missing child.

“Please come back. I’m here to protect you.”

He kept calling. Repeating false promises of safety.

Then something changed. He wasn’t pleading anymore.

“I’m guessing you found the bones?”

He knew and was getting closer.

“The smell of blood gave it away."

His voice was getting louder.

"Don’t worry Love, I’ll make it quick.”

Fearing the worst, you follow the tunnels faster as you switched from a crawl to a crouched hobble. At each junction, you picked ones that slope upward. No matter how slight the incline was. Your fingers began to bend and tremble as they tried to hold onto the stone. Anything to prevent you from sliding down the ever-increasing incline.

“Poppet, the longer you draw this out the worse it will feel!”

The earth went from a tremble to a harsh shake. And against your better judgment, turn your head backward.

There he was.

In the faint light of your lamp stalked the rabbit Primitiva Animarum. Even from the far end of the tunnel, you could see the hunger in his eyes. The lamp caused them to flash blue like a police siren crying out in warning. The long canines that were once hidden by the shadows and dim lights were now prominently displayed.

You knew he desired something carnal. Something primal.

He wanted your blood.

He stalked closer. Nails glinted in the light as you scrambled.

He wanted your flesh.

“There you are.”

Your bones were to grow his collection.

He rushed forward.

Screaming you jumped higher. Barley escaped his nails as you fought to get higher.

He thumped his foot and growled as he watched you climb up. Dust fell from his hair and face as he repositioned. Then he lept.

It was a race and Oliver was catching up quickly.

There was an opening ahead! You hoped that this one would be an exit.

A hand gripped your leg. You rolled as Oliver tugged on you. Trying to pull you underneath him.

“NO!” You screamed as you kicked at him. Your free leg aimed for his hands and face.

Oliver’s free hand moved in a blur as it tried to catch your other leg. His smile grew as he inched you closer.

You kicked up.

Your foot connected with his chin. A harsh clack rang out in the tunnel as his grip loosened and his head flew up smashing against the tunnel roof.

Taking some initiative, you kicked again. This one struck his shoulder. The force was enough that he gasped as he slid down. He scraped the floor as he went to the bottom of the underground hill.

You wasted no time and scrambled again. This time reaching the outlet. You stuck your head out.

A cry of relief went out into the ‘fresh night’ air. You pulled at the ‘moonlit’ grass around you as your legs kicked against the warren’s walls.

Almost there.

Clawed hands grabbed at your waist.

“Not so fast, Poppet.”

He was back.

Oliver heaved. He was determined to drag you back down. His nails dug into your hips. You could feel the points in your muscles as you struggled against him.

“LET GO!”

You kicked again. Hoping for a successful strike again.

He moved and pushed your legs outward. Quick to slot himself between them.

You pushed against the dirt again. You got a little higher. Your chest was now on the grass and you could feel him pull again.

Kicking again, you struggled for a grip as he attempted to wrench you off the ledge.

You yelped as you felt his teeth sink into your left love handle. Your blood flowed for the second time that night as his arms wrapped around your thighs. He groaned, reaching up to claw against your back.

No, no! You panicked. His nails sliced your shirt. Your hands scratch at the ground. Where’s a rock when you need it.

You feel his teeth slice into your flesh. A howl escaped your throat as your hands clutched something hard.

A rock! God hadn’t abandoned you.

Quickly you dig at it, slowly trying to win against the life-or-death tug of war you two were locked in.

Oliver’s jaw tenses as it prepares to rip that chuck away. Ready to start devouring you.

The rock came loose.

The momentum of the freed stone caused you to fall. Down into Oliver’s arm as he released his bite. The large wound on your love handle flowed freely, but the flesh was mostly intact from his sawing.

On a dime, you turn. You face the man with a bloody smile and lift your rock high.

You hit him. That corner of the stone pounded against his skull.

He screamed as you struck him again. This time in the temple he staggered backwards. For a second you feared that he would bounce back, but his eyes remained rolled back as he twitched on the floor.

Wasting no time, you clutched your rock and climbed out of the exit.

The lamp lit the way as you ran away from the warren. Determined to put as much space between you and the primitive animarum.

The grass crunched as you slowed and gazed around the area. The once bright ‘sun’ crystal was as dim as the moon as you looked at the mostly empty grass behind you and in the dim distance, the strange boreal forest.

You couldn’t go back. It was too risky.

But. You looked ahead. There was a groove of conifers.

You jogged and did your best to ignore the throb in your sides as you ran to the conifers.

It felt like forever but it was really only thirty minutes.

A loud scream turned your back to the grassy field as you slowed to a stop at the base of the conifer groove. You felt your legs nearly give out as you saw the small speck of Oliver exit the warren.

He stood at full height. His teeth were bloodied and barred as he whipped every which way. His head angled upward then downward, seeming to sniff for something.

His body turned straight to you.

Oh no!

You dashed into the woods. Your legs were unsteady as you bushed your way through the foliage.

You had to get away. Your survival instincts tunneled your vision.

It caused you to ignore the golden strands. The strands that seemed to float from tree to tree. That sparkled as they draped over the plants around you in a sticky frost.  

But, you had no choice. Better to face the spider’s web than the rabbit’s wrath.

Day 4