#Shorthorn

[silvermaplealder]

So I went to Starbucks with my new calf Tony. Everyone loved her and when I rolled up to the window I asked the barista if he liked my dog and he just stared at me and said "why"

I just bought her and was driving home and wanted a coffee, that's why lol. She was very happy to see people.

[postcard-from-the-past]

Shorthorn, Durham cattle on a vintage postcard

[wexlermendelssohn]

[bw6rvxq3nym]

TRANSPIRADO A FULL Gay twink gets daddy creampie and young boy scrotum twinks A minute Fucking sweet ebony pussy while gf is home Casal sexy transando Brazilian Girl PERFECT GIRLS TEASING Cute Booty Shaking ass twerk SEXY BOOTY big boobs big ass Filthy lesbians have a pleasure playing with wet cameltoes Classy blonde bombshell Madison Chandler banging Fake Agent Hot slow sex with hot tight shaven pussy on casting couch ام طيز Grosse levers and fucking abc Anal babes ass fucked

[cupbearers-comic]

ariadne, goddess of labyrinths and puzzles, and dionysus, god of wine and insanity

character reference sheets

more concept art coming out along side comic progress

[vintagewildlife]

Shorthorn bull By: Unknown photographer From: The Ox and Its Kindred 1912

[antiqueanimals]

From the Oilette postcard set "Famous British Cattle", illustrated by Nora Drummond (1862 - 1949)

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Ford Bronco Shorthorn Prototype, 1973. In order to compete with the Chevrolet Blazer and Jeep Cherokee Ford began work on several Big Bronco Concepts during 1973. The Shorthorn was based on a shortened F-100 chassis which would significantly lower production costs by sharing running gear and body panels with Ford’s truck. The oil crisis of 1973 delayed production and the F-100 based second generation Bronco went on sale in 1978. 

[commanderhorncleaver]

Pity the Fool

Horncleaver’s office was sparsely decorated and immaculately organized: this hadn’t changed in years, even after it had become the headquarters for Horn’s Gladium Outreach, even after the legionnaire–no, centurion, Terang Bulan corrected himself–had spent days fretting and cub-proofing the place. He’d insisted that they couldn’t be apart from the Black Citadel, even while the vast majority of its occupants glared steely dismissal and icy indifference down at them like hail and rain, and Terang Bulan had to admit that he had been right. Though it’d been slow at first, the trickle of charr looking for (or ready to accept)  help eventually became a near-steady stream on a daily basis, and their work had been recognized; the old man’s promotion had been sudden, but welcome.

“How long has this been going on?” 

Terang Bulan stood at attention as Horncleaver glared at him. It was rare that such ire (or any expression aside from mild annoyance or confusion) was directed at anyone within the warband; that hurt more than the numerous bruises that had formed which he hadn’t had the chance to heal.

“Since the rally, sir.”

The shame burned hotter as Horncleaver sighed. He didn’t know what was going on in the older charr’s head, but the disappointment was obvious enough. The two of them, alone for the first time in months–mostly alone, as Gloryana was curled in the crook of her sire’s arm, auburn on auburn like a puzzle piece, watching him with alarming blue eyes not unlike her sire’s–and it was about this. His fists clenched at his sides as he prepared to be shouted at, demoted, really the possibilities were endless now that he’d made Horncleaver upset.

A look crossed the old charr’s muzzle, but it was gone before Terang Bulan could identify it. Horncleaver’s free paw massaged his temples; Gloryana’s attention was caught by the shimmering light refracted from her sire’s glimmering horns, and the office was quiet save for the ambient sounds of the Citadel alive around them. Terang Bulan had never liked the view of the Citadel from these windows, because more often than not the charr below, cogs in the machine of the High Legions, reminded him more of ants milling around a corpse. 

“Cub,” Horncleaver cleared his throat. “I’m not going to say I understand how you feel; I’d prefer not to belittle you, and I know you’d appreciate the same.” 

Terang Bulan nodded, and the centurion continued, “However, I need to know what you’re thinking before I can help you.”

The situation, honestly, wasn’t even that serious; fights were commonplace in the Citadel, and neither Terang Bulan nor Kudo had pulled a weapon on the other. Rather, he was aware, the real trifle was that the Horn warband didn’t generally get involved in situations like this, least of all Horncleaver’s pet outcast and the asura boyfriend of his favorite cub. Terang Bulan’s tail lashed, and he continued to stew in silence as his throat began to tighten. When it was clear he wasn’t going to answer, Horncleaver spoke again. 

“I told you, years ago, to mind her boundaries. What made you think fighting him would help things?”

Terang Bulan didn’t have an answer that made sense even to him, let alone one that didn’t make him come off like an idiot creep, so again, he didn’t answer. If he was honest, the fact that he couldn’t rightly answer Horncleaver made him almost as ashamed as the fact that he’d lost the fight, and that only made his throat close up more.

“All right. Well, you’re being fined.” Horncleaver lifted his paw before continuing, “I’m going to handle that.” Then he shifted his daughter, scooting her into his other arm.

The frustration in Horncleaver’s features melted into something Terang Bulan recognized easily as the other charr continued to watch him: a mixture of affection and sadness tugged at the corner of Horncleaver’s eye. 

“I want you to take a leave of absence. I want you to focus on yourself,” Horncleaver said. “I want you to be able to talk about… anything. This is your warband, you should rely on us as much as we rely on you. I’m your legionnaire, Terang Bulan. Is that understood?”

Terang Bulan choked on his assent, and instead nodded. 

“This isn’t meant to be a punishment. I didn’t notice what you were dealing with,” Horncleaver grunted. His deep voice was resounding in the office, and Terang Bulan was momentarily distracted by the thought of how it must rumble like a distant storm in Gloryana’s ear before he could force his attention back to his centurion’s explanation. “I’m sorry for that, cub.”

[mercdraws]

study from @bovineblogger 's post

[alta1r1an]

Hey Raevik, buddy, how do you like that big chunky lad who's been cooking and keeping everyone healthy on your trip to the Wizard Tower? (@commanderhorncleaver)

Raevik looks up from where he was sitting on the grass next to his skyscale in the archipelago. It looks like he was trying to ground himself by the experience of his paws being in contact with the grass. He looks out into the distance for a bit. Considering who in his current travelling party would be 'big and chunky'. After considering the mentioned roles aswell his eyes widen for a fraction of a moment in realization.

"Ah, Shorthorn." He gets up, stretching himself out a bit as he folds his paws together behind his back. "I read his file, it is... marginally more interesting than usual." "Entered the fahrar late after living with a human couple. Expectable issues with integrating followed. Wound up in a less than favourable position within the legions."

He tilts his head, thinking things over for a moment. "Not the worst start he could have had, all things considered"

"Eventually he ended up in my sire's warband, and having earned my sire's trust he has mine too."

A small smile grows as the next thing comes to mind. "His file also had multiple reports related to incidents around romantic intimacy. Human sensibility around relationships is an unfortunate thing he picked up, and he seems to have... poor fortune when it comes to these matters."

He unclasps his paws and raises them up in front of him, shaking his head. "Of course, his file is not enough to fully judge him. From my personal observations he is competent, an excellent cook and a good component of the warband."

"The ease at which he grows infatuated is worrying, however. It is a weakness that is bound to get exploited."

[marowreck-archive]

i love how cow races sometimes arent translated. i cant look at "shorthorn" and immediately not read it "chorton" like all my teachers read that fucking thing.

[absmarchive]

Women's March brings protesters to campus in support of women's reproductive rights

[clownfucker21]

Happy new year's everyone! Hope this year treats you well.

[vintagewildlife]

Shorthorn bull By: Unknown photographer From: The Journal of Heredity 1910

[bebopbonk]

Does your brain ever just read and space out but you know your reading it and you have to turn the page/scroll back?

Because you realize you have no idea what happened and where we are in the story that have you have to stepback and reread it to catch up?