Basically teaser/WIPs of some fanfics I'm working on and/or planning to do. Will they be completed? Who knows!!
Also, drawing SQUIP as a cat gives me life and NO ONE CAN STOP ME!
Contents:
•SQUIP/Reader (angst, gore, generally fucked-up)
•SQUIP/Read...
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A n o t h e r o n e Soft boi hours
Also, have a somewhat decent sketch from around the time of writing this. •••
Growls left the Hunter, echoing in the safehouse’s darkened livingroom. He was pacing, movements silent. ‘Where were they? They should have been here a long time ago!’ He’d been cooped in this house for entirely too long, legs screaming to leap and claws aching to slash-and-tear. The prey-things in his pack didn’t dare let him out whilst they weren’t home. He still couldn’t understand that; he’d brought them back a whole deer! And he’d even left it alive for them! They were terrible hunters, though; leaving the door open and blundering around after the buck lead to it’s escape. Roanoke was still miffed about that, since he had to hunt it down all over again and bring it back -dead, this time- to them. They made shrieking noises when he dragged it through the door, but quickly shut up when he screeched back. He grumbled, pacing faster. And then he stopped, turned, crouched, and hurled himself at one of the chairs. The force of his landing sent it toppling backwards, and Roanoke tore into the soft fabric with tooth and claw. The display to anyone -survivor or Infected- would be terrifying; Hunters were known for their savage, malicious, and merciless brutality. They were known to toy with their prey, taunting them, and luring them into a false sense of security. Then they would pounce, doing to their prey what Yawp was doing to the recliner. No wonder this particular Hunter’s companions were so skittish with him. At some point, during the mutilation of the chair, Roanoke’s companions returned. They didn’t dare interrupt, fearing he would turn his frenzied gaze onto them. The leader of the trio, ‘Alpha’, sighed. Her and the other survivors knew the dangers of letting the Hunter loose in their absence. Though he proved an excellent help in pairs, leaving the house completely unattended could result in various things hidden around. The deer incident had been the final straw, yes, but there was a build up. From mice, squirrels, and birds to arms, legs, and more, various things would be stashed under chairs, in the sofa, and under pillows. It was a nightmare, especially in the rare occasion he’d forget his prize and it began to- When he brought in the deer, it was a harsh reminder that he was, in fact, still a zombie. Scar-throat joined in, and the sound of laughter soon filled the room. Even Alpha was giggling, reaching down to ruffle the Hunter’s hair. “Must you always do that?” She huffed, wrinkling her nose in an attempt to scowl. Roanoke, not understanding the words, just beamed wider, a ragged purr rumbling from his chest. He had fun with his packmates, even if they were prey-things. And he would keep them safe. He owes them that much, at least.
