The Snuggle Starliner
(Starring: One grumpy werewolf, one aggressively kind bear conductor, and a train full of dangerously wholesome vibes)
“THIS ISN’T THE IRON REAPER LINE,” growled Dagrin Thornbite, notorious werewolf bounty hunter and professional brooder. He stood stiffly at the edge of a carriage full of pink lanterns, fuzzy rugs, and teddy bears wearing conductor hats.
A teacup chimed softly. Someone in the next car giggled.
“I asked for a one-way ticket to Skullharrow. Not the Fluff'n'Stuff Express.”
A small, round bear in a powder-blue vest and monocle waddled up to him, clipboard in paw. “Welcome to The Snuggle Starliner, Mr. Thornbite! We’re thrilled to have you. You’ve been upgraded to our Healing Trauma Suite, and your Emotional Support Bunny is waiting in your bed.”
“…My what now.”
“Her name is Prunella. She has a minor in conflict resolution.”
Dagrin looked around, panic blooming beneath his chest hair. Every surface was soft. A baby harp seal just winked at him. There was a faint scent of lavender and sugar cookies, and.. was that a llama in pajamas offering him a mug that said “Growl Less, Cuddle More”?
He reached for his sword.
It was replaced with a hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and a perfectly roasted marshmallow shaped like a tiny moon.
---
Hours later, Dagrin was wrapped in a glow-in-the-dark cuddle quilt, his head resting on Prunella’s squishy lap. Tears sparkled in the corners of his eyes.
“I never got a birthday cake…” he whispered.
Captain Fuzzleton gently patted his paw. “You do now, darling.”
A cake floated into the room. It sang. It was shaped like a battleaxe.
Dagrin sobbed. Into a pillow.
A teacup chimed softly. Someone in the next car giggled.
“I asked for a one-way ticket to Skullharrow. Not the Fluff'n'Stuff Express.”
A small, round bear in a powder-blue vest and monocle waddled up to him, clipboard in paw. “Welcome to The Snuggle Starliner, Mr. Thornbite! We’re thrilled to have you. You’ve been upgraded to our Healing Trauma Suite, and your Emotional Support Bunny is waiting in your bed.”
“…My what now.”
“Her name is Prunella. She has a minor in conflict resolution.”
Dagrin looked around, panic blooming beneath his chest hair. Every surface was soft. A baby harp seal just winked at him. There was a faint scent of lavender and sugar cookies, and.. was that a llama in pajamas offering him a mug that said “Growl Less, Cuddle More”?
He reached for his sword.
It was replaced with a hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and a perfectly roasted marshmallow shaped like a tiny moon.
---
Hours later, Dagrin was wrapped in a glow-in-the-dark cuddle quilt, his head resting on Prunella’s squishy lap. Tears sparkled in the corners of his eyes.
“I never got a birthday cake…” he whispered.
Captain Fuzzleton gently patted his paw. “You do now, darling.”
A cake floated into the room. It sang. It was shaped like a battleaxe.
Dagrin sobbed. Into a pillow.
