#interesting as a cat. just brown. brown cow

[marc--chilton]

house and wilson. but they are cats. warrior cats, if you will,

(bases by googaoo!)

[merletka]

Collaborated with amazing writer @alexcors and illustrated her fanfic about Damian Wayne. You can read it bellow! 💚

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– Concussion, multiple beatings, fracture of the collarbone, two ribs and the radius of the right arm, with multiple fragments. Do you have anything to say to that, Robin?

– This dealer raised his hand himself, covering his worthless face. What?

– You beat the suspect to a pulp! Batman barked at his son. – No patrols until Cantelli is transferred from the intensive care unit to the general ward.

– But…

– That's all.

Damian clenched his teeth, but at the last moment decided not to fight with his father over a small dealer. Cantelli wasn't worth it. And therefore, having drowned himself, the boy just fell asleep.

***

The morning began with the usual five o'clock wake-up, a workout with pruning the squalid park art that Damian disapproved of in his garden. And he was already tired of explaining to Pennyworth that the enemy could be hiding behind large figures! Then a walk with Titus on a leash, Alfred the cat on his shoulder (because the mustachioed one did not want to wake up in any way) and a red-haired squeaking lump in his hands.

The kitten was dragged by a Red Hood a couple of days ago, startling Damian at first by pronouncing his full name without hesitation (few people in the family could pronounce Hafid ibn Ksufash Dami al Ghul even from the third time), and then by an attack of compassion for the animal. However, the boy quickly recovered from the shock, named the red kitten Roy Harper and now did not miss the opportunity to tease brother with the phrase "You gave me your accomplice, Todd."

By eight in the morning, Damian had time to check on the bat cow, comb Goliath, lose the nimble red Harper and find him sleeping peacefully in the cowshed. In general, Batman's heir successfully redid all his affairs, even phoned each Teen Titan individually and gave valuable instructions. On little things like different time zones, young Wayne habitually waved his hand, and everyone also grabbed a moral slap on the back of the head for trying to be indignant:

– Do it, Beast!

– Buzz me here again, Bug!

– The aliens were not given a word.

– Witch!

Damian belatedly realized that arguing with Raven was not worth it, because the importance of portals to any part of the world is difficult to overestimate. Fortunately, he knew about the weakness of every member of his team, and in Raven's case, it was sweets. Especially his sweets, with honey and spicy notes, which the girl fell in love with from the first bite. He will have to share again… She's definitely a witch!

At nine o'clock sharp, Pennyworth served breakfast, with tea in fine china, brown sugar, a slice of lemon and... an envelope?

- You have received an invitation, Master Damian.

- It's not interesting, - the boy muttered, finished with the meal and dryly told him not to disturb him. He was going to decide the fate of the world here, and they came with some kind of invitations!

However, the plan to destroy all (crossed out) almost all people did not come to mind, but the world itself lay perfectly on paper with watercolor paints, fortunately the view from the window was conducive to this. Up to a certain point.

– Todd!

- Hello to you too, Gremlin, - the Red Hood replied, climbing into his brother's bedroom through the window, while unsuccessfully clinging to the tulle with the toe of his boot.

- Pennyworth will bury you for this.

– Yes, yes, and will plant roses from above. Not that I mind much, but that's not the point right now. Get ready to go out.

Damian took a deep breath and unleashed his entire supply of Arabic obscenities on his brother, knowing full well that Jason would understand him. Unfortunately, the pressure of the negativity did not take him back out the window, he had to take up a katana.

– Put the skewer down, shorty, the meat has just been sent to marinate.

– Will you leave on your own or will you be thrown out in parts?!

– Shut up and listen to me, - Todd barked, casually showing off his pistols with the safety off. – In short, Alfie organizes a family get-together, with meat and without a fight. Dad promised to be, I'll bring a replacement, the Gotham crime storm in a thong will come running himself. You got the simplest thing – to lift your little ass off the chair and walk to the place. You can take the menagerie with you.

- I'm not going to any gatherings with my father," Damian muttered, but he put away his saber. – So you can get out and report your failed mission. I'm not leaving my room today, basically!

- No questions,– Jason agreed surprisingly easily. - But if you walk out the door, you're going to hang out with everyone, okay?

– Tt.

–That's settled,– Jason grinned, ducked out the window and disappeared.

Damian managed to exhale with relief, when suddenly something buzzing flew over the windowsill. Titus reacted first, barking loudly at the wasp's nest rolling on the floor!

- You're dead, Todd! - Damian yelled, unceremoniously grabbing the cat and rushing out the door with him and the dog.

***

- No corpses,– Grayson repeated calmly but firmly (for the fifth time!).

- I'll beat him up so that no Lazarus Pit will help, - the boy grumbled into the phone, the call to which stopped him from righteous revenge.

– Alfred said it clearly, without a fight. Let's get together with the whole family, have a nice time, have a delicious meal.

– Tt.

– We have chosen a picturesque place by the lake, you will like it.

–Okay, - the Batman heir finally gave up. – But only because painting was part of my plans today.

– It's wonderful, – judging by the sound, Dick broke into his trademark smile. – You will draw a beautiful landscape.

– I'll paint it! Artists paint with paints, you idiot.

– And I love you, little brother.

– Tt.

Author: @alexcors

[pedge-page]

Plushies 6 - MooMoo

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Plushies Series Masterlist but Can be read as standalone

Summary: you surprise Joel for your 2 year anniversary by being the fuckable plushie tonight.

Warnings: literally 99.9% smut. Unprotected sex (she is on the pill but they’re playing with the idea of it failing), BREEDING KINK, pregnancy kink, plushie milk sucking (? You’ll see); nipple pumps, nipple play, nipple orgasm, boobjob, oral m-receiving, squirting, cream pie, belly bulge, no breastfeeding but Joel has a breastfeeding kink (obviously!), Daddy kink, spitting, bimbofication, lots of cow talk, praises you and degrades you, cringe ass language overall for these horny fucks

18+ ONLY

- - - -

It's getting pretty bad now that every time you see your pile of plushies in the room, your panties dampen. And you can’t really avoid them because Joel’s been adding to the mountain of stuffed animals with every excuse to get you a gift.

And then outright making you cum on them before he’s ripped the tag off.

You suspect Joel also gets equally as hard by them too, with all the interesting things he’s been sharing since starting your Plushie-sex journey. He’s pretty quiet and reserved any other time, even during regular sex. But when all your little beady stuffed animals start getting involved…

You’re startled by a gentle knock at the door. “You okay in there, sweet pea?” 

“Mhm! I’m almost ready!”

You both just got back from a fabulous date—ready to seal the night with passionate sex. And you’ve planned the perfect 2 year anniversary gift for him.

You stare in the mirror in your new “outfit” to surprise Joel’s loins: naked, save for a spotted felt ear headband, a leather collar with a big golden bell dangling from your neck, knee high white and black spotted stockings, and a slutty garter body harness speckled in black splotches. The straps dip and curve over your hips with cute ribbons on the waist, snaking under your soft parts, accentuating your breasts, tummy, thighs, ass—everything that Joel finds bitable. 

^photos + product by GlamourIsTheEndGame on Etsy

When you finally walk out into the bedroom with all the might your tiny little harness could muster, Joel’s eyes finally land on you. You smile at him with a sultry, pretty, and far from innocent smile.

"I was thinking maybe I could be your plushie for tonight,” you say, pushing your breasts out with your arms drawn tight, and shaking a little so he can see them sway and hear the jingle of the bell bounce over your collarbone.

Ok, so you know the scenes in Tom&Jerry where Tom sees a female cat, and his eyes bug out cartoonishly and jaw falls down to the ground?

Yeah, that’s Joel right now.

His jaw is so slacked it might unhinge itself. Eyes straining because they can’t go any fucking wider, and his pupils literally so blackened, you wouldn’t know he had baby brown eyes.  

You’re standing there very expectedly, waiting.

Waiting.

… waiting.

Say something you kinky bastard, damnit NowILookLikeAFool—!

Your nerves are starting to curl in on themselves...maybe you don’t look as sexy as you’d hoped...

“Um…if… if you don’t like it—I mean if you wanted to pick up a stuffie instead…”

The man takes advantage of your brief embarrassment and jumps you, shoving you against the wall and caging your legs around his hips.

“Oh!”

You whimper as the unmistakable bulge of his package presses hungrily, slipping past the little string and nudging your wet clit.

He glues his lips to yours, devouring your tongue. It’s extra hungry, extra needy tonight than usual. His lips twitch with the rumbling growl reverberating deep in his chest. 

“You’re so fucking sexy holy fucking shit baby-jesusssssss look at you— fuckfuckfuck I’m so lucky, luckylucky bastard—FUCK ME—you’re mine? You’re actually fucking mine????”

You giggle, confidence surging again as his hands struggling to grab every bit of you all at once. Holding you captive nonetheless, eyes raking over in wonder and astonishment.

“I’m all yours, Daddy,” you hum sensually. You grab his hands and bring them to curl along your harness, under the straps to feel your skin all hot and tingly. Begging for his touch.

“Happy fucking Anniversary to me.”

Joel scoops you up and sits on the bed, immediately having you straddle him. You grind down on his tent poking up between your cheeks. His fingers dig into your thighs when he feels the flutter of your folds.

He knows you feel as sexy as you look. 

“Gonna be my cow slut tonight, huh? You know what good little cow sluts do?”

“Suck cock?” You ask cheekily, preparing to sink down to your knees to pleasure him with your mouth.

He lets out a happy sigh. You’re ready to move, your teeth sucking in your lower lip, but he stops you, instead choosing to pin you closer to his body. His voice drops an octave:

“They birth and they milk.”

They—what? “Um—come again?”

“Breeding, baby. That’s what we’re doing tonight.”

He knows you’re on the pill, so it’s not like you’re really trying to get pregnant…but the thought of getting knocked up tonight sends a particularly dangerous chill down your spine. He never uses a condom so the chances are still….there. Every night. Each time he blows his fat load deep inside you; like a good little cumdump, he says. 

Why not indulge his fantasy tonight?

“You wanna breed me, Daddy?” You tease, hips swaying along his clothed member, dancing along your slit.

“Mmmm, yeahhh. Shit, baby. You’d look so good pregnant. And these—“ he grits his teeth, fingers pinching the straps that circle your mounds, watching them squish together, “—Are gonna fill up with so much milk, gonna feed me with your delicious cunt and sweet milk 24/7.”

You want to slap the smug look off his face, but now’s not the time. It’s time to get those pouty lips on your breasts and the cock in your cunny.

“Better start getting them open so I can satisfy that big thirst of yours.”

On cue, his lips wrap around your nipples, kneading your tits in his big rough hands. You start bouncing steadily along his cock. He’s domineering and digging into your skin harshly, teeth overly excited and sinking into your pebbled nips while he grinds up against your heat.

He’s biting and sucking so hard, asking-PLEADING-for your milk.

Milk that is definitely not there!

"Ouch! Joel I'm not going to give you milk, we’re just—playing—I’m not actually pregnant!"

But the THOUGHT of you exactly like this but stuffed full of a baby, just imagining your tits all round and belly bursting, the garter harness pulling tight against your skin and your tits poking out with that big heavy swell of your tummy making you look like his own breeding stock.

Desperate whines rush out of his mouth in a string of babbling: “I can get ya pregnant, please? Pleasepleaseplease darling let me put a baby in you— breed ya so good, just look at ya, could get ya knocked up, just think how cute you'd look gettin' all round with my calves grown in that tumtum. Fuck! what a sight, showing off to everyone our hard work breeding, evidence of our love making, and these titties would just swell n get all heavy with all the creamy delicious milk ya could give me like the best momma n—“

Your palm splats against his mouth to shut him up. “Slow down, cowboy. We aren’t having a real baby any time soon. We don't even live together yet..."

"Then move in with me,” he proposes without hesitation.

You …blink for a moment. His mouth hovers over your breast again but you drag him up to look you in the eyes—so you know he's not just fucking around.

“Really?"

"Yes! Why the fuck do we still have separate homes? I'm here all the time anyway. Plus, takin' care of all those plushie pets must be exhausting on your own, they're partially my kids anyway so.”

"You really want to live together?"

"Yeah. Yeah I do.” 

You and Joel were a ‘take it one day at a time’ trusting kind of love, but right now as you stare into his heart-shaped eyes, you can see your whole future together. The kind of earth shattering reality that’s never been more clear and more desirable than this moment. 

“I—“

“Don’t gotta give me an answer right now. Wanna ask ya again when we’re—less horny. So you know I’m bein’ serious.”

You grin and kiss him.

“Show me a good anniversary night and I’ll give a good thought-over.”

“Oh babygirl,” he tuts. “Think you were gonna be the only one showin’ me a good time? I got ya something too, sweetheart. Gonna go perfect with ya cow slut theme ya got goin’ on.”

You don’t know what he could possibly have that could “match” your very specific cow themed sex outfit—

Unless its more cows.

So when he sits you on the bed, stumbling over his shoes because he can’t take his eyes off you, Joel equally surprises you with a box of cow themed gifts—little calf beanie babies, which are conveniently jerry-rigged to two separate nipple pumps with their little snouts pointing towards the  suction cups, and a cow plush toy that has a compartment in the top to pour milk in, complete with rubber “practice” utters for farmer kids to learn milking.

“I swear, I had no idea you were gonna be dressed as slutty cow momma for me. I just—saw this shit online and thought my girl needed to be drinking some cow titties when I fuck her swollen cow tits.”

“We’re so in sync,” you muse, shaking your head with an amused smirk. 

Its honestly should be... kinda concerning.

He sits back next to you on the mattress, shoving some of your animals off the edge. You instinctively crawl atop his thighs again, and his hands settle once more protectively around your waist. You stare down at him, his sinful lips practically begging to get sucked while that lidded lustful gaze lulls you in a trance. The Joel Miller spell is wordlessly working on you again—and you know you’re gonna be cracking and doing anything this man says within a few shorts minutes.

You beam at each other tenderly, unable to help the genuine happy crinkle at your lips as you kiss him softly.

Then it starts:

"Can ya moo for me?"

You roll your eyes. Not quite doing anything he says so soon.  “Fuck no I'm not doin that shit again for you. You want a farm, go get one yourself."

"Please Angel?" He plants wet kisses along your jaw before giving two fat ones on top of your breasts.

"Still no."

He groans, but continues to nip at your breasts like a scolded child. "Can I fuck your big mommy milkin' cow titties?”

“There is no milk!” You snap. You’re ready to throw the whole idea away, but his persistent hold around your waist and cock nudging your throbbing puss is making it difficult to resist him for long.

His big brown chocolate lab eyes bleed into your horny little soul. “C’mon, MooMoo, for Daddy?” 

“I am NOT your MooMoo—“

He jingles the bell dangling from your neck. “Ya’sure sound like my MooMoo.”

you clench your fist around his shirt and take a deep breath. "Fine, Fine! Whatever."

"Say it."

"You can—ugh—fuck my big... mommy milking cow titties." You face feels so hot with embarrassment, but Joel purrs with such satisfaction that you feel even WORSE how much you don't hate it. 

Since when did the double entendre of being called his "kitty" and "puppy" when Joel fucks you and your animal themed plushies become his "moo moo girl"?

He grins with such a dirty, perverted look about him. Continues to kiss over your mounds, massaging the muscles in your back so you don’t notice when he bends over you to grab his homemade breast pumps.

He looks at you sideways with expectant hope in his eyes. 

You roll your eyes again. Of course he can’t just get a normal titjob and blow his load in your mouth. There’s always some fucking thing else you gotta do. But with the way his cock pulses under your drooping pussy, you decisively snatch it from his hands and get to work just so that he’ll call you his slutty cow again. 

“That’s my girl,” he groans, rubbing along your hips excitedly. He holds them in your hand and exhales hot air over the cups so they aren’t cold against your skin.

The clear tubes are narrow, obviously meant to resemble that of utters rather than actually breastfeeding from a bottle. You stick them on each tit, and very quickly Joel is pumping the little hand squeeze that starts to suction the small space of air into the connecting wire.

You gasp at the sensation. Slowing latching on, the small of your breasts are pointing inward towards the pumps, sticking up on their own now as Joel continues to suck the air out. 

You hiss a strangled moan. The sensation isn’t—bad. It’s like an invisible hand is dry vacuuming your pebbles.

“Fuck—fuck look at that,” he growls. “Your nipples are sooooooooooo fucking suckable right now.”

You look down and see their hardened state reaching out into nothing. As more of your flesh and tissue gets sucked in, pressing tightly, trying to fill the small space, the pain mixes with pleasure. Joel’s continually nipping at your chest with lidded eyes glued to the scene helps spread the multiple sensations your body is feeling.

“There’s not gonna be any milk,” you warn again, shifting uncomfortably in his lap. Your breath hitches in your throat when you get to a particularly suffocating phase of tightness in your breast.

He casts a sorrowful grin before yanking the pumps off together with a loud SCHMOP.

You screech unexpectedly, rolls of pleasure sparking through your chest, up to your brain then right down to your tummy and cunt, your eyes rolling back as you collapse forward on to him.

You’re both quiet for a moment save for your heavy pants. Until you feel a wetness growing on his pants.

“Joel—did you—?”

He laughs out, “No baby, that was all you.”

Your cheeks go warm in embarrassment, looking down to confirm that you had actually squirted onto his jeans just from getting your nipples suctioned.

“Didn’t know ya titties were so sensitive…” he goads.

You shake your head and nudge it into his neck—because you didn’t know you could squirt just from getting your breasts suctioned either. 

“Shhh, I know. I know baby, just breathe. Little titties are so sore, but we gotta get them ready to start feeding from. S’not my fault you’re just a little slut, so hungry to be a momma—don’t you worry, Daddy Bull is gonna make it happen. Ya can squirt your little juices all you want when I breed your cunt like my own personal livestock.”

You have half the mind to tell him again there is no baby to be feeding any time soon, and you sure as heck weren’t his livestock to be bred, and had nothing to say about "Daddy Bull", but with the harsh throbbing along your nipples, dragging sensitively against his cotton shirt, you don’t care to do anything else but drool and hump your weeping clit against his soaked thighs.

 “Let Daddy see his work,” he mumbles into your throat with a kiss.

You sit up again with his assistance. 

He groans heartily at the sight of your swollen, redden tips poking from your boobs. “Jesus fuck, MooMoo.” He rubs his thumb over your mounds and you wince away. “They hurt?” He laugh sadistically.

You cover your lips with the back of your palm, unwilling to let him see your delirious heaving. Your pussy throbs desperately for more his unique torture. “You….bastard…”

He soothes over the swollenness, groping your breasts and telling you how they’ll be sore like this all the time when they start filling with milk. How he’s gonna breed you so full of calves you’ll be bursting milk on your own, and he’s gonna lap it all up to keep you happy.

You don’t know why you keep letting him put the pumps back on. He doesn’t try to rip them off like before, but keeps bringing you close with tight compresses before letting air quickly filter in again. The little cow beanies bob up and down with each deep breath you force through your nose, eyes glittering up so innocently. You’re trying to ignore the equal throb in your untouched clit as the ones in your overstimulated perky nips.

Once they’ve swelled to a level of his satisfaction…

“MooMoo…”

“Huh…”

“Time for cow titty fucking.”

He throws you down on your back in the heap of your plushies. Wasting no time pulling his stiff member out of his jeans, he pumps a few times with one hand. Like a professional Joel wraps his belt tightly around your wrists, like a cowboy expertly tying his prize calf he just lassoed in. 

You twist your legs to hide the leaking drip of slick sliding down to your ass. Your head leans to the side, arms thrown behind you so you can see him, biting your lips and furrowed brows of want, admiring his physique when he pulls his shirt off with a satisfied grin. 

“Fuck me, cowboy,” you hum, shifting your bum up  and spreading your legs so he can see your swollen slit twitching up at him.

But he throws your legs down and cages you under him. “I’m makin’ a mess of those god damn Mommy milkers first. Then your cunt gets whatever Daddy Bull has left.”

DaddyBullDaddyBullDaddyBull, you chant in over and over again your dumb little cow brain...

Oh Christ, tonight’s gonna be wild.

You watch him crawl over your body, fisting his leaking member over your chest. You want it, licking your lips in anticipation, pushing your boobs together with your arms to entice him. He twists the bell-collar so its dangling off the side of your shoulder before placing his leaking tip right at your lips, smearing his precum. Moaning at that fucking taste of Joel you’d been craving all day. You lap at the saltiness, begging him to force it deep into your mouth, but all he does is rub it over your lips, your tongue peaking out to get it nice and wet for him.

His cock falls right in the valley as you smoother it with your supple breasts. “Soft titties all mine to play with? You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck them?”

He starts thrusting, suffocating his cock between your tits. With one hand, he’s pulling the harness roped around your body tight like he's riding a God damn horse, the other still possessively pumping the nipple suction cups so they squeeze harder around your precious tits. His balls rub along your sternum while he bounces his hips, rocking back and forth again and again, making a sticky mess of his arousal and your drool all over your chest.

"Angel, imagine how fucking good this is gonna feel when these pups are filled to the brim with Daddy's milk.”

You nod dumbly. “Want you to fill them, Daddy. Want you inside,” you moan. Your head leans forward as you try to suck in his tip each time it poked through your boobs. 

Joel lets out a shaky breath, trying hard not to blow his load too soon. Though the sight of your face and cowbell all sticky with his creamy spent has him drawing away quickly, a firm grip wrapped around the base to hold his twitching balls from releasing his seed just yet. 

You cry out, tongue chasing his retreating tip. 

“You ready to be my little cocksleeve plushie tonight?” He asks, raking his nails over your chest and belly, raised red trails marking you in their leave.

“I’m ready Daddy, fuck me like your dirty whore!”

He spits a fat gob of saliva right on to your slit before rubbing it over with his thick tip. You don’t need the extra lubrication due to how drenched you are, and the sweet squirting you did earlier, but oh how he admires the way it mingles with your juices and slides down your ass.

He rips the cow patterned garter ribbon from the waist buckle and wraps it around your calves, sticking your legs straight, and pulls your ankles taught. You’re completely tied off at his mercy, like cattle being tamed. He hoists your legs straight up in the air, his bare cock grinding against your wet heat.

"D-daddy!"

He leans your straight legs against his left shoulder and peers down over you: messy lipstick, bound wrists pulled together and straight to your stomach, pushing your tits even closer,  and the harness does nothing but give each one an immaculate show of perkiness. Paired with the tight press that the pumps are still holding your nipples captive.

He decides to show you some mercy by removing the tubes. He kneads their swollen state at the same time his cock rubs along your slick folds.

“T’Thank you, Daddy Bull,” you puff.

“Good girl. Didn’t even have to remind you,” he praises with gentle strokes of your cheeks.  “Your little calf babies are full now. Time for DaddyBull to spend time with Momma.”

You hope he doesn’t see the way your stomach clenches at being called Momma—a kink you’re shelving for much much later.

He’s got such stamina to be still gliding himself along your pussy but not penetrating just yet. Your brows are scrunched together in a plea and desperation, and those little cow ears are flopped back into the mess of softness. Softness that surrounds you, that innocent feel of cute plushy fur and cotton all rubbing against your body below you despite the numbing throb in your breasts and cunt. 

He puts his fingers in your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his digits, getting them wet before he’s drooping them down your puffy lips, down your breasts each with a squeeze, trailing warmly over your belly before coming to the place where he’s about to impale you.

Your entire body is thrumming with need.

He takes the moment to see how wrecked you already are for him—and to savor your body, knowing he’s gonna breed you so good one day and everything is gonna swell, like a stamp of ownership.

“You’re so fucking breedable,” he whispers in awe of your body. You don’t think he meant to say it out loud, but it turns you on all the more to hear his inner thoughts that would most likely scare away other women.

Not you though. You shutter at the thought of it taking, of making something evident of all the fucking and cum dumping he’s been giving you.

The pornographic gasp you let out as he slides his cock over your folds, between your squished thighs. Your slick lathering his length, prepping him and teasing your clit with long strokes. You whine as his mushroom tip glistens with precum, poking through your thighs then retreating. Getting your hopes up and holding it there sadistically.

"Don't gotta do nothin' tonight for me, sweet pea. Just gotta hold on for the ride."

You're not ready when he latches at your entrance and thrusts in all at once. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as he fills your gut with his fat cock, stretching you in the best way only Joel Miller knows.

“Ahhh--ah!—f—f—fuuuccccckkkkkkkk!”

Joel Miller does have a Bull sized cock. More evident now stretching your little hole than you’d ever truly thought before.

The position is so restraining, leaving you no way to move or adjust - just take take take take his pounding. You both groan at the sight of his tip ballooning in your lower belly with each thrust. 

He throws his arm over your straight thighs and thumbs over your swelled naval. "Fuuucccckk look at that, look at that!"

"S-ssoooooo deeeeeeppp," you wreathe, lips curling in delirium.

“Yeah-yeah babygirl, gotta stretch you—get ya ready to hold my calves huh? Gotta make room for them to pop out—“

“M—mnot—pregnant,” you rasp hoarsely, eyes closing when he starts angling his hips up and rutting along the gummy part in your cunt.

“I’ll make it happen, don’t you worry your little brain.” He laughs. “You like getting stuffed like your stuffies. Turned you into a proper fuck toy—mm—there we go—but you’re always gonna be my favorite toy to hump, to fill, to own." He forces each word out with each rut. “You’re so fucking good at being a soft whore for me to use, all precious and pretty on the outside. Just another one of these plushie sluts on this bed,” he grunts.

You stick your tongue out dreamily and smile, fingers getting lost in the scattered stuffed animals surrounding you with their soft, fluffy textures and hard or squishy bodies. 

It feels really good to have 0 thoughts and just get fucked like a cow plushie.

He kisses your ankles soothingly, almost pathetically attempting to distract you from the sudden lash of his palm slapping against your ass.

“DADDY—shit!” You whimper. He doesn’t love the way you instinctively try to squirm away from him, but with how tied up you are, continually impaled on his throbbing length, you have nowhere to go. 

He continues to spank you, the same spot, fingers splayed wide until his reddened print is left etched into your skin "Gotta brand ya baby, make sure everyone knows who owns this body.”

Lewd noises of wet skin slapping, and the little cow bell clanking on your neck fill the room along with your pathetic whimpers and Joel's repressed grunts.

"Yeah? You like daddy's bull cock ramming that tight little Moo Moo pussy?"

“Yea- ohh-f—fuck yes Bull Daddy, cock so good, fuck— nobody stretches me—ah shit!Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes—m’gonna be bred so fucking full Daddy fuck yes!”

“My little cow breedin’ bitch,” he hollers. He tears the cute little cow patterned bow from that had held your calves together and quickly parts your legs, shoving your knees up to his shoulders so you’re in full mating press. He continues thrusting aggressively downward. Despite still being bound by the wrist, your elbows part slightly enough to slot him between your arms, slinking your hands over his neck to bring him closer to you.

"Breed me!" You cry, literally cry. He doesn’t relent his rough thrusts despite cooing your tears welling.

 "Gonna take all that bull cum in your slutty womb? Gonna let me put a baby in ya?”

Your walls clench down on him harder in response. The more his thick tip nudges your cervix, the less words you’re able to string together in sentences.

He doesn’t wait for answer—doesn’t think he ever will because he’s dangerously dreamt of impregnating you for so long now, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop the day you said yes. Never bringing it up but fuuuccckkk he can’t stop his confessions from tumbling out: “Shit baby, might take this time. Lookin like my breeding stock n shit, gonna plow ya, you'll milk my cummies in your tummies and then—"

"Jesus Joel stop your yapping and FUCKME.”

"Ya gonna moo for me?"

You're moaning more, but with the way your sockets are rolled to their whites, arching up like the exorcist as he rams himself so deep its puncturing your belly, the sound’s eliciting from your mouth coming out as "mmmmmaaaauuuuhhhhhau-huh-hhuhh-huhhhh!"

He chuckles. "Close enough.”

He grabs the moo plush and shoves its utters in your mouth. You tilt your head to the side and your tongue circles around the rubber part. He almost busts his nut at the gorgeous sight below him: your pretty lashes closed as you suckle from the utters, each little swallow of milk going sown your throat. You're so delirious and cock drunk that you don't care about the trickles of cream dribbling down the corner of your lips. Your tits swollen and red, nipples so perked up they may actually start bleeding milk if he were to play with them any more, and your breasts bounce back and forth with each thrust, the jingle of the cow bell clanking loudly with no sense of tune but with all the hymns of his fucking he can give you. He snaps the garter belt strapped around you like reins, free ruling restraints that only make every bit of you even more voluptuous. Your legs are so strong, thick yet securely plastered together by his knot.

Your brows pinch together as your orgasm builds from your belly, making you arch violently against the pillow.

You pull away from the cow to take a gasp of air. Joel sticks his finger in your mouth and swirls it around. You hum in content, letting him make a mess of your drool and leftover milk spilling out, down your chin and cheeks with his thick digits. He yanks it out and licks it clean.

"Taste so fucking goo—“

"Keep fucking me with Daddys Bull cock fuck daddy I wanna get bred so fucking much wanna be your breeding little cum slut daddy fuck yes! You're so fucking huge, splitting my little moomoo pussy in half poundbreedbreedbreed daddy want all your cummies inside!"

"Fucked ya so dumb. All that ‘no baby, no milky talk.’ Shit! Fuck I'm gonna wreck this pussy, my fucking pussy! Nobody comes inside this sweet little womb but Daddy!"

"Just you just you daddy all yours please brand me make me yours! Oh-oh fuck Daddy yes! I’m cumming , I’m cumming so hard Daddy Bull fuck yesyesysssssyesyesyes!!!” you hiss through gritted teeth.

Your mouth parts as a silent scream is let out into the air. Joel keeps fucking you through your orgasm, his pained gasps while trying to remain sane with your convulsing walls choking his cock, sucking him in so tight he wouldn’t be able to pull out if he pried himself from you. He reaches between you to rub your clit, and your head thrashes about in overstimulation. Hard teeth latch on to your collar bone as you squirt once again all over his cock, streaming to his balls and soaking the bed and poor plushies caught in the crossfire with your naughty juices.

“There’s my slutty girl! Squirt that puss everywhere, want to stain everything with that cunt, my pretty cow girl.”

Joel’s whole body ruts into you like his life depends on it. The bed lurches violently against the wall, plushies falling over the sides like an avalanche while your battered soaked pussy takes the beating of a lifetime from the man who undoubtedly has ruined you and laid claim to your soul for the rest of your life. You hold on with the little strength you have left as he readies to empty his balls into you.

“Shit—shit—oh ff-ffuck baby—Daddy Bull is cummin—gonna breed ya SHIT oh baby,baby,babbyyyy gonna flood ya, you’re gonna take it? Gonna take all that cum—not a drop—haa-left—Gonna knock you up this time-mmmf—fuck! My good cow sluuutt—Baby give it ta me so good, Breed ya full o’me!FUCK!!”

With a final slam, Joel plunges his cock balls deep and shouts into the mattress, pumping his cum as deep into your womb as it could possibly go with thick, fertile ropes flooding every inch of space inside you.

He forces out each harsh, agitated pant into your neck, sweat sticking between the two of you. Your hips are held upright, walls fluttering with each pulse of his dick still unloading inside.

“I love you,” you whisperinto his ear, mind all hazy as you stroke his damp curls. He shudders, relaxing into your embrace, and you welcome the crushing sensation of his body on top of yours.

He pulls away to admire your barely conscious state: stockings all torn up, harness now tattered and  straps broken from their belts, the cow-eared headband snapped in half. Bruises and purple markings and love bites scattered all over your skin, your breasts the most damaged and swollen. He wonders how long it will take to fully heal, and how sensitive those little nipples are going to be for the next few days. Most importantly, he can’t tear his gaze away from the beat of your pussy lips struggling to swallow all of his creamy seed. 

You gasp out when Joel pushes his cock all the way back in, his cum spilling out the sides and coating you but trapping a good amount inside, leaving it nowhere else to go.

“I Love being your cow MooMoo plushplush,” you hum, wiggling your bum and holding him close. 

“How bout this one still?” He grabs the forgotten milker toy and brings the utters between the two of your lips.

Your tongue wraps around one utter and you start suckling the sweetness. 

Joel yanks the toy away.

“Show me.”

You open your lips so he can see the pool of milk filled to the brim, spilling over the dips of your cheeks.

He dips his tongue into your mouth and begins sucking out your split-mixed milk, kissing you passionately so you’re both gulping around each other’s tongues.

Drunk. You feel drunk off him. Off the milk. 

Eventually he pulls away so you can both breathe.

“I mean it.”

You draw away momentarily, wondering. it takes a moment to process anything that the two of you talked about while his cock still twitches in your cum-filled vagina.

You laugh when it hits you. “Yes, I’ll move in with you—“

“—You’re gonna look so fucking beautiful when you’re pregnant.”

You both pause for a moment before bursting out in a fit of giggles.

“Oh, I already knew that,” you taunt.

-

After you sleep for 14 hours straight, you wake up to find your tattered costume is gone, and your body completely naked. You don’t feel as achy as you expected—thanks to Joel probably massaging you in your sleep. Your cunt and breasts, however, are puffy and bruised as hell. You’ll have to restrict sexy time from Joel to just regular, Plushie-free fucking.

Speaking of, there’s an unfamiliar little guy on your bed right under your arm right now: yet another cow plushie, but it’s sooooo much softer, a bit heavier too. You turn it over and switch the little battery pack on, and the animal begins expanding and deflating with gentle breaths, its tummy warm and comforting against your body.

Joel comes in with a cup of tea  placed on your bedside before jumping on the Plushie bed. You poke his face.

“Whaaaat!”

"Joel, you know this is for babies,” you say, gesturing to the new cow breathing cow plush.

Right my babygirl.” He smiles proudly, stroking your face.

"No, like actual babies. It’s a breathing soother to help them sleep. Did you not notice what section you were in when you bought it?”

He looks ahead at the wall for a briefly, revisiting the memory. “Ya know what, that might be why the lady asked if it was for a girl, and I said ya my girl. N’ then she asked 'how old' and I told her ya age and she gave me a weird look.”

Your eyes squeeze tight as you fall back in a fit of cackles. “You were literally in the baby section Joel."

"Ain't all these plushies for kids anyway?” He gestures to the pink, purple, frilly, soft, funny faced squish stuffed animals you have on your bed. “What’s the difference?”

You switch the heavy cow animal on again and the cow starts slowly inflating then deflating with each breath. 

He gets all amazed like the marvels of today's technology far exceed his imagination. “Holy shit it got a real heart in there! No wonder it cost me 60 bucks.”

“Pretty sure a real heart would cost more than 60.”

“Mmm, cost me even more to keep yours.” 

You glance over at Tomm—ahem, Teddy—sitting upright in the corner of the room, the dildo still strapped around his crotch, and at Mr. Oinkers who’s jittery fun was sometimes too much to handle, and at Valentine Puppy that has a permanent white streak in his hair when you tried washing out Joel’s cum, and at every other plush on this bed that has occupied an ever growing space in Joel’s horny head below the waist.

“I don’t love you just cuz of the plushies, you know.”

“Oh? I’ll take them all back then, since ya don’t appreciate—“

“No!” You cry desperately. “I—I love them.” You cold your cow plush close and kiss his head.

 Joel curls up next to you and spoons your body. “But I love you too. Just you.”

He hums in agreement. “I know you do. Who else would dress like that just for fun?”

You cringe at the image of the destroyed cow garter that sits helplessly on the floor. Definitely cost waaaaaay more than $60.

“I can’t wait to move in,” you mumble into the pillow.

“Oh—about that.” 

You lean back and meet his gaze. Was it a farce? Did he not actually want you to move in? Was it jut to get you excited for sex last night? You already feel your heart shattering, knowing its gonna take more than 60 bucks to put it back together—

“While you were sleeping…I brought all my shit here already. Cancelled my lease this month and packed for weeks. Figured it be easier than making you have to pack all your little fluffy bitches in boxes—”

“Well they wouldn’t go in boxes, they’d be buckled up in seatbelts.”

“Exactly my point. Would have been a nightmare trying to move you.”

You slap his shoulder.

“Um… what if I said no?”

“Oh…” the thought never actually crossed his mind that you’d say no.

You laugh again, kissing his jaw reassuringly. “Kidding, Bull Daddy.”

He grumbles into your back and kisses the back of your head. His big meaty paws rub over your thighs, the little dents from the strap still ghosting your skin, trailing up over your belly that he can’t wait to see swell one day, even if not any time soon, and snaking up to your aching chest—

“Don’t you dare touch my fucking tits.”

10 minutes later, you catch Joel’s cuddling the breathing cow right next to his face, snoring soundly as it exhales next to him. you kiss the tip of his noses and burrow yourself closer to your sleeping giant.

It really does help babies sleep.

- - - -

Notes: this ended up being waaaaaaay longer than I thought holy heck.

Bonus of Joel x Preggo reader thot in the plushies saga

Permanent Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

[buckysgrace]

Gator Tillman Headcanons

Just some random thoughts I had about baby boy tonight <3

I for sure think he was born premature? A teeny tiny little baby with big brown eyes lol.

Definitely got doted on because of his huge eyes and messy hair. Very hyper kid too, always needed to be doing something. Probably a biter tbh (spanked a lot sadly smh)

Threw an absolute fit when he was itty bitty and they were weening him off of the pacifier. That was his paci damn it!

Grew to love snakes because his mom hated them and he was quick to remove them from her garden. He thought it was funny to chase her while holding them

Roy use to make Linda keep it in a buzz cut because he hated how long it was on Gator. Thus, leaving Gator to find his own style when he was old enough.

He definitely showed cattle when he was younger. His favorite cow was named Rosie and he won several ribbons for how well kept she was <3

Knows how to ride a horse but doesn't have a desire to do so. Plus his lower back and hips are always so sore after

Prefers dogs over cats, but you best believe any time a cat is around him they're all up in his business

I also think he struggled with asthma when he was little too?? He hasn't had an attack in years but still carries an inhaler around

(don't bring up him vaping while having asthma, he gets very defensive and irritated lol)

Never been out of his hometown unless he needed to travel for competitions or for work. Probably never been on a real vacation before either.

I think he was always tall and lanky but stopped growing his sophomore year of high school?? He always wanted to be taller tho

Was in the FFA obviously.

Being an all-state quarter back I'm sure he had a ton of college offers? I imagine he was fairly average in school, probably enjoyed science more than anything else

Had a really hard time after his mom "left". I think he had a lot of anger issues at this time

His leg injury blew away any chances of him really believing that he could do better for himself, so he followed in Roys footsteps

He gets cold easy, so he always bundles up into layers and layers.

Sucks at cooking. Could not boil water to save his life. I think that he'd take cooking lessons later in life (or learn from someone hehe)

Has a surprisingly good green thumb if he'd keep up with it

Enjoys drawing in his free time and is actually really good at it.

Cannot survive anywhere where it gets too hot. He burns easily

He's in church every Sunday (sometimes Wednesday nights too, depending on his shifts) but it doesn't stop his potty mouth

Car lover of course. Likes to work on vehicles too. Occasionally welds I believe.

Loves going to car shows, or to tractor pulls lol

Most of his tattoos were random, little afterthoughts or done while he was drunk. I think he bought his own tattoo kit but opted out of it.

Flirts like a middle school boy. Will poke and prod at you, lots and lots of teasing. If you meet at a bar you best believe he's gonna be showing you all of his cool drinking tricks lol

A surprisingly good big brother, although Karen thinks he's a bad influence so he doesn't get to spend much time with them

Big fan of Game of Thrones but also loves Golden Girls lmao. And Westerns.

Does that thing where he acts like he's not interested in what's on TV but then he stands there with his hands on his hips watching the whole time lol

Do not ask him to pick you up something for the store, he will not find it

When he's high on weed he's very giggly; thinks everything is hilarious. Will absolutely lay underneath the stars and try to explain the way the universe works. Very snuggly and has the worst munchies (devours a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos in one sitting smh)

Will drink coffee (usually with a protein shake mixed in) but he 100% prefers energy drinks

Jack Daniels and PBR are obviously his drinks of choice hehe. Although he does love a good margarita occasionally

Absolutely devours some Taco Bell after he gets off the night shift. He always gets a box with a chalupa, beefy 5-layer burrito, and the fiesta potatoes but he's also getting a cheesy gordita crunch and the Cinnabon delights. And a Baja Blast. Mans has worked hard and he's hungry lmao

Hates ankle socks

For a late night snack he is breaking open something sweet. I imagine he prefers Heath bars and 100 Grand Bars.

He also loves carrot cake

[gabessquishytum]

So there's this piece of art on Pillowfort that's human cow Hob and its been living in my head rent free since I saw it and I have thots.

So I would like to propose semi anthro au warprize Dreamling. Dream is the King of Cats whose kingdom was challenged. Bovine soldiers are not hugely uncommon, but they usually tend to be huge bulls that are just huge and solid enough to plow through anything. The pretty soldier with brown patches looks more like an adorable dairy cow in Dream's eyes and after the fighting is over, he selects Hob as his personal prize. After all, a cat of Dream's status always needs a source of fresh cream. And he is so looking forward to wrapping himself around his pretty new milk cow and teasing him with light brushes of his tail and listening to him scream so pretty while Hob bounces on Dream's barbed cock.

Anon you got me SHAKING with this one…….. I don’t need another wip but the temptation to make this into an absolutely debauched fic is sooooo strong.

Hob wasn’t even supposed to go into the army - but he needed money, and as he’s fairly strong and robust he was allowed to serve. His fellow soldiers always made fun of him, though. Partly because he was so obviously not cut out for being a soldier, but also because he couldn’t even produce any milk at that time. The army diet was too bad, the conditions were bad… so when Dream sees him, he knows that he’s got to take this adorable creature in and help him to serve his true purpose.

Hob is moved in to a pretty little room next to the king’s. He has attendants who care for his needs, he’s put on a good, rich diet and the king comes to visit every day. He talks to Hob about their shared interests, and he’s always touching him with delicate white hands (and those terrifyingly sharp claws). Hob develops quite a crush on the feline king.

Luckily, as soon as Hob starts producing milk, his relationship with Dream gets ever more intimate. The king wants to taste his milk each morning, so Hob is sent into the bedroom and allowed to climb right into bed with him. Dream is always full of praise for how delicious the milk is, how Hob is doing such a good job at producing more each day. For his good work, the king starts rewarding Hob with kisses and sweet touches. And soon that escalates…

Hob accompanies Dream almost everywhere in the palace as a symbol of the king’s wealth and power. He can stop any time to drink from his own personal milk cow, as is befitting of a king. Hob is also just very pretty, and everyone takes pleasure in looking at his soft brown eyes, fluttering eyelashes… and of course the teets which provide delicious milk for the king. It’s not uncommon to see the king of the cats with his prize squirming in his lap, Hob’s legs spread wide as he desperately tries to take Dream’s cock deeper. He’s learned to be so good when the king fucks him full of cum. Apparently it makes his milk even sweeter…

[heavenlyeros]

£30 clay creature commissions & 20% discount on a second one

✦ animals !

i only put cats & big cats on the flyer because i love cats, but i have made all sorts of creatures, like sheep, cows, prehistoric animals, dragons, an octopus, birds, frogs, reptiles, bunnies, fish, pokemon, bugs and lots more, and i am always excited to try new things too. although i'm behind on updating it with my new projects, my website has photos of other fun stuff i've made ! i promise it's not all cats

✦ what i can do

your pet, fursona, favourite ffxiv minion, beloved pokemon, rarely depicted special interest, science outreach mascot, tabletop game character, and anything else you love long as it is creature shape (rather than people shape). they can have little accessories and fun details both sculpted and painted, but obviously the scale means these details will be somewhat minimalist for safety's sake (like in examples). they can have patterns and colours painted or i can marble and swirl clay of different colours. i can also texture them to appear fluffy or scaly. i love using shimmery and metallic paints - neat for the festive season! if you are gifting, i can add a little card and/or ribbon to your creature and mail it directly to your giftee.

✦ refs

images of the actual creature you would like me to make you are always neat, but it is okay if you do not have those. a little doodle, a moodboard, a picrew, a detailed description are all very good too, and i will ask for any info i need. or if you only have the vibes and would like me to come up with a design that's neat too.

✦ what i cannot do

because these are small and they must also survive in the mail, i cannot add super fine details like long antennae or thin tentacles. i can still add details like these in, but they will be chubby and short. the tails on the flyer are about as thin as they can go. i am also wary of creatures with very delicate details coming out to the sides from the main bulk of the animal (like wings and antlers) because they have a riskier time in the mail. these will also need to be very chubby in order to be sturdy. where viable, i would prefer creatures to remain on all four legs (like meerkat being long instead of tall) and that they are standing, not sitting. this works best with my sculpting technique, but i am happy to branch out where needed. loafing and splooting creatures are very welcome. because they need to be able to stand, biped creatures have to be extra chubby on the bottom. for this reason i tend to not sculpt legs at all (on birds for example), but i can paint them on where it is an option. if the creature really needs legs they can be sitting instead with their legs in front of them or similar. i will do my best to come up with an idea that works for your creature and still allows them to balance fine ! i prefer mixing clay and getting colour variation that way if the creature is not one colour. for paint, i generally use dark blue or dark brown for darker details, and white for lighter details, with other colours used sparingly where that detail is necessary, like eye colour. i am most comfortable with minimal paint, because it means the finish is much sturdier and will not get damaged with regular handling and play. so patterns like multicolour spots or swirls and accessories like hats and scarves will be a different clay colour rather than painted, most of the time.

✦ about your creature

the animals are about 5cm/2 inches long. wolf & ghostling creatures always have beans and x shaped buttholes and other little details like that where applicable. i make the creatures out of polymer clay (usually fimo) and they are painted with acrylic paint and sealed with glossy acrylic varnish. i also use shimmery and colour changing powders that i mix into the paint sometimes to get metallic, pearlescent, and holographic effects. they are waterproof (just don't scrub them) and they are very sturdy. they can survive falls and even being yeeted across the room by my bastard cat. they are weak to things falling on them and to being squashed. the clay has some flexibility but it will eventually snap under pressure. the finish should not rub away at all with handling, long as you do not scratch it. unless they're super stubby, their legs and tails are built on armatures (wood and wire). this makes them extra sturdy and also quite easy to fix should an accident happen. they are full of love. i adore making them. they bring me so much joy. i hope you will feel the same.

✦ timeframe, shipping, and shop policies

your creature will be finished in 1-4 weeks. it depends on how many i have to make and whether i have the right colour clay on hand or must order it online. i will always aim to work as fast as possible. i do not always complete the first orders i received before later orders - i work on them depending on which one i feel is best for me to tackle at the time so that i am always excited and get the best results. i will contact you with updates if you like, and to ask any questions if something is unclear. i love taking wip photos. once your creature is finished, i will ship it out using royal mail. uk orders are shipped tracked and international orders are shipped standard. if your country has notoriously unreliable post service or you'd just feel safer with a tracking number, please let me know and i can invoice you via paypal to upgrade to tracked shipping for around £6. creatures should arrive to anywhere in the world in 2-3 weeks maximum, but of course i cannot guarantee, and varies by time of year and your local carrier. as these are custom orders there are no returns or refunds. if your creature gets lost in the mail i will do my utmost to sort it out with royal mail but i unfortunately cannot refund you out of pocket as i am barely covering my own costs and offering these so i can afford the most basic of necessities. if your creature arrives damaged please get in touch and i will provide advice on how to fix it or a replacement, depending on circumstances.

please message me on here or on ko-fi if you have any questions at all and thank you for checking out my creature commissions <3

[jesslovesboats]

Getting to know someone better

Thanks for the tag @ktredshoes!

Last song: Don't Go to the Woods by the Decemberists

Favorite color: hunter green

Currently watching: Star Trek Voyager reruns. I also just finished The Good Lord Bird, which was an interesting take on John Brown

Last movie: First Cow- watched it on a friend's recommendation and it was very good!

Sweet/savory/spicy: a toss up between sweet and savory, but I'm giving it to savory because one of the saddest things about getting older is that some of my favorite things are now too sweet, which is cruel beyond words

Current obsession: Aside from polar exploration (which is less of an obsession and more of a lifestyle at this point), I am obsessed with the 588th Night Bomber Regiment, a Soviet all female aviation regiment that fought during WWII. I've been doing a lot of genealogy research lately, and I'm also volunteering with Women for Harris-Walz. Mostly, though, I'm close enough to my upcoming trip to Europe that it consumes 75% of my thoughts on any given day. I'm making a spreadsheet of friends to meet up with, museums to visit, and bookstores and perfume shops that will bankrupt me!

Last thing I searched: the address for the surgery center where my cat got neutered earlier today, but that's boring, so I will also tell you some things that I'm currently researching for Baby's First Big Writing Project That May or May Not Pan Out: the history of the US Marine Reserves in WWI, Appalachian folklore, the Christian Science movement, nativism and discrimination against German-Americans in the years leading up to WWI, spiritualism and astrology in the 1920's, and buffalo head nickels.

Absolutely no pressure tagging @i-have-loved-you-too-much, @overlysweetcoffee, @johnnystorrm, and @sastrugie, as well as anyone else who wants to play!

[jxmieswxnter]

things about Father Brown series 10 that make it good (in my opinion): (contains spoilers)

Brenda. She's great and she's fun, she's a young person learning to navigate the world. Found family trope for days.

Mrs Devine. Adore her. Also fun, and she's bright and intuitive and inquisitive. Drives like a mad lady. Outfits always on point.

Hercules

Chief Inspector Sullivan. He's back, never going to complain. He's softened and we get to see more aspects of his character, like his interests and hobbies outside of work.

Sullivan giving gender envy

Brenda giving gender envy for that matter too

Goodfellow being brilliant as always. He's come so far since we first met him. Him taking his exams and passing is great and I feel personally so proud to have watched him grow.

seeing the Kembleford Players

Sullivan in a dumb Shakespeare costume

Goodfellow in a dumb Shakespeare costume

tbh literally everyone in their dumb Shakespeare costumes

tiny adorable model village, I love model villages and train stations

seeing Mrs McCarthy's and Bunty's little models at the model presbytery

seeing Lady Felicia again

seeing Flambeau again

Mallory canonically moving to Scotland to get away from Father Brown

1954

car chase

just the cool cars, I love them

some more gay people

a rich twat getting murdered

Sullivan getting beaten up after he was an asshole to everyone

and then deciding after all that drama, he's going to stay anyway

Sullivan and Mrs Devine. Controversial opinion, but it's definitely nice seeing another side of Sullivan, and for her still speaking so lovingly of her husband and thinking of him but also letting herself still be happy

the way Sullivan goes completely soft after Isabel and how he won't arrest Brenda because Mrs Devine says no

Brenda's accent

Mrs Devine just adopting Brenda instantly

costume/wardobe is doing great work as always

Lady F just hadncuffing herself to the bar and Sullivan having to snip her free

Sullivan calling a man "his Royal tallness" when according to imdb, Sullivan is an inch taller

seeing another village

Father Brown war flashbacks

canonical Sullivan birthday

cow calender

Sullivan being canonically attracted to chaotic dumbasses who put themselves in danger to help others, likes to meddle, and drive like a lunatic

Brenda launching herself out that train

Goodfellow curtsy

that little black cat finding a home

the way Brenda is always still scared when getting into these scrapes and having her life in danger but she still keeps doing it to help others

singing through a field

that leather jacket

biker gang

Brenda being just a little bit gay with all the girls in the series (imo)

miserable Sullivan drinking

canon Edgar

Father Brown on his bike as always, zooming about

I have no doubt I've forgotten things so please add more in the tags!!

[babyhunnybear]

—arf! 🐾 welcome to my comfort corner ♡

hi, i’m honey bear ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

papa calls me honey bear and h.b. but you can call me bear! i’m a puppy regressor & i’ve used age regression to cope with trauma and mental diagnosis’s for 8 years. i’m autistic and a semi-verbal kiddo. my regression is a coping mechanism which sometimes occurs involuntarily.

🍯 big age: 20, zodiac sign: scorpio

🧸 regressed age: 3-4

about honey bear’s tumblr

i post/reblog things that make me feel nostalgic, relaxed, sleepy, regressed, just over all comfortable and safe. i want to protect this blog and really make it my place. so please be gentle, i wear my heart on my sleeve, and i don’t want my safe place to be anything but exactly that!

hashtags:

#hbbabbles <- regressed posts

honey bear’s favorite shows & movies

Alice In Wonderland (1951) , Baby Einstein , Adventure Time , Fionna & Cake , Bluey (Bingo is my favorite!) , Strawberry Shortcake , early 2000s Nick Jr , Bear In The Big Blue House , Blues Clues , Kipper , Once Upon A Time , 80s My Little Pony , Toy Story , Tangled (i love Eugene/Flynn)

honey bear’s special interests

papa!! , vintage toys , Lalaloopsy dolls , Disney , Noggin , stuffies , strawberries & cream flavor , kitties , pink & neutral browns , 2000s nostalgia , Autumn , Christmas , Dreamlight Valley , Stardew Valley , Sanrio , cows , black cats

DNI 🚫 do not interact with this blog if you are nsfw, g0r3, or anti-lgbt+

pr0-@na, th1nsp0 and other variations are absolutely NOT welcome.

***my blog is strictly SFW! this is a safe place for my regression, and i use this as a coping mechanism ♡‧₊˚

disclaimer: anything i post comes from pinterest!

sincerely,

🧴જ⁀➴ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫

[labellefleur-sauvage]

A Most Dangerous Magick

Summary: Deep in the woods, the villagers say a forest witch dwells in her hut, alone, tending to her garden. They say she’s mad, that the bones of children hang from her ceiling and that people who enter the woods and stray from the path never leave. 

When Elain Sees a nefarious visitor is on their way to her forest cottage, she decides to entertain her guest for an evening they both will never forget.

I was inspired by this post by @bittermuire, saying that Elain should have been creepier in canon. I wholeheartedly agree. I took it a few (a lot) steps further and made her a violent, bloodthirsty, unsettling forest witch, because, at the end of the day, Elain deserves it.

Rating: Mature/Explicit. Violence, animal death, bodily harm, body mutilation, smut. This might not be everyone's cup of tea but if you're in the mood for unhinged Elain, read on.

Word Count: 10K

Read on AO3. There are research notes at the bottom of the AO3 link, if anyone is interested.

XXX

Elain could feel change in the air like a punch to her gut. 

It came on suddenly: the sensation lit across her fingertips like little shocks of static and settled on her arms like an unnervingly thick coating of dust. It filled her lungs like smoke from a forest fire and its bloody metallic tang hung in the back of her throat and coated her tongue. 

It disappeared just as quickly as it had come on, leaving her slightly disoriented and gasping for breath. She spat on the ground - bloody. Elain frowned slightly. Yes, change was coming, and soon, though she chose to keep optimistic until she could divine more of the situation. 

She hurried through the forest towards her house. Her dinner - a rabbit, neck broken - hung from the ratty belt around her waist. Her feet were bare and covered in dirt; a few twigs were tangled in her long brown hair. Her dress was filled with rips and stains, the hem nothing more than a tangle of threads. 

“How interesting,” she mused aloud. “It’s been… decades, I think, since something has happened here. Not since that silly little human marched here with his fancy horse and iron weapons to try to take the woods away from me.” She looked down at the dead rabbit hanging from her belt, its body bouncing against her leg as she walked. “What do you think, Mrs. Rabbit? Is someone coming? Or perhaps a storm or drought?”

The rabbit did not deign to give a response.

Elain tsked. “Well you’re not a very good conversationalist.” 

She was close to her home - she could feel her magic traveling through the earth under her feet. The trees around her reacted to her presence, dragging their leaves and branches across her body as she passed. They whispered their tantalizing secrets they had plucked from the air to tempt her to stay. She closed her eyes and sighed, enjoying the feel of them around her but sadly called out, “I really must hurry home.”

The forest groaned its lament but obliged. The trees picked up their roots and moved, revealing a small clearing ahead. She waded through the knee length grass towards her cottage, smoke billowing from the chimney. Her goats and chickens were in their pens, pawing and pecking at the ground, and her lone cow stared balefully at Elain as she passed, a large wad of grass sticking out from her mouth. 

She threw open the door to her hut and tossed the dead rabbit on the table. A large tabby cat sat on top of her shelves, glaring at her as she entered. 

“Hello Gray,” Elain chirped. The cat arched its back and hissed at her, its hackles raised. Elain ignored the cat’s frosty response. “Where are The Ravens? Have they dropped by while I was gone?”

The cat only growled. His memories were apparently sharp today. 

As she did whenever she entered her home, Elain moved to the altar dedicated to Mother and added her new offerings she had collected while she had been out. She lovingly caressed the bit of bone and hair that had once been a part of Mother’s body that now blessed and protected her home before moving away.

She unlocked her corner cabinet and pulled out her grimoire, the cover cracked and slightly peeling. Elain frowned - she would need to capture another child to repair her book’s damaged skin. Gently she flipped the book to the ‘Prophet and Premonitions’ section and began reading. 

Different spells required different ingredients, with the most powerful spells in her book demanding personal sacrifice as well. She didn’t really feel like offering anything of herself at the moment - the fingernails on her left hand were still growing back after she had ripped them out to ensure her chickens laid enough eggs so she could make her prized lemon bars- so she decided on a basic precognition spell. 

This particular spell was rather simple with its three requirements: something from the earth, something from the sky, and something vital to life. The first two were easy - she plucked a bunch of henbane from her extensive herb garden and rooted around in her cabinets for the preserved sparrow entrails she kept on hand - but the third had some leeway. 

‘Something vital to life.’ This was up to the discretion of the spell caster. Most people used an object that made their own life worth living - a bottle of their favorite liquor, their most prized book if they were a great reader, or perhaps their favorite food. 

Elain tended to be more literal with her interpretation. Walking out to her chicken pen she surveyed the animals. She needed to keep her sole rooster and most of her chickens were on the younger side. 

She sighed. “Sorry Nan,” she apologized, stepping over the fence and plucking her oldest chicken up. Nan squawked indignantly and tried to flap out of Elain’s arms. 

“It’s alright,” she cooed in Nan’s ear, stroking the soft downy feathers of her head. A firm hand on the chicken’s body, another on the head and Elain snapped the chicken’s neck in one smooth, practiced motion. 

Back inside her house, she set the dead chicken on the table next to the rabbit and hauled a bucketful of her Cauldron blessed soil to the wood floors and scattered it in an even layer on the ground. Crouching down, she began tracing the image of a Daisy Wheel in the blessed soil on the ground: a large flower with six thin, oblong petals evenly spaced apart, all contained within a large circle. 

She laid her ingredients in the center of the Daisy Wheel then dug her teeth into the soft chicken’s body, covering the spell components in a thick layer of blood. The blood seeped into the grooves she had drawn. Elain plucked a few feathers from her mouth and daintily wiped the chicken’s blood running down her mouth and neck away on a stray kitchen cloth. 

Elain knelt on the ground and took a deep breath. One had to go about witchcraft with a clear mind, lest one's thoughts and emotions muddle the results. She let her body relax, her muscles and bones becoming soft and pliant like the dead animal bodies littering her home. Her eyes drifted closed. 

“One two three, one two three,” she muttered to herself in a sing-song voice. “Oh Mother dear, what will you reveal to me?”

Nothing. Elain waited for several moments, still as a stone. She opened one eye, looking around her expectantly for something to happen. A breeze drifted through her open door, wafting around her head, carrying the faint, cruel sound of mocking laughter.

Elain huffed like a petulant child - Mother did always demand more from her daughters. She angrily tore at the flesh of her palm. Her blood sprayed out onto the floor, mixing with the soil and offerings she had laid out.

The effect was instantaneous. A happy sigh on the breeze, then, like her blood on the ground was a living thing with a mind of its own, it raced through the grooves of the Daisy Wheel, coating each petal before zooming around the outer circle to complete its bloody mission. 

When her ichor completed its route around the symbol, it began beating and pulsing like the heart of an ancient slumbering beast taking its first breath of fresh air after a thousand year hibernation. It shuddered and quaked, sending small vibrations through the ground, before small tendrils of blood began branching out from the daisy wheel. 

Elain sat, transfixed, as the blood snaked its way through the dirt and began forming an image of its own: a snout, two pointed ears, four legs supporting a small body, a long bushy tail. It was an obscene two-dimensional masterpiece. Finally the blood finished its painting. All was still as she studied the drawing in front of her. 

A fox? Elain hummed thoughtfully to herself. All of the predators in the woods knew to stay as far away from her clearing as possible, guided by a deep rooted instinct that they most likely didn’t fully grasp. A simple fox couldn’t do any harm to her or the woods. 

But what did foxes represent? Cleverness, cunning and mischief. Elain swiped a finger through the bloody fox and brought it to her lips. Images like lightning came to her in flashes: a lone figure in a deep green cloak walking through the woods; a handaxe, gleaming, attached to a hip; a sheath of long, red hair; a large golden brown hand squeezing her hip - 

Elain found herself on her back, eyes closed, a heavy weight on her chest. She wasn’t sure how much time passed. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to see Gray sitting on her collarbones, one clawed paw extended towards her throat, his eyes narrowed in anger at his plans being thwarted. 

“Oh hello silly,” Elain said weakly, reaching up to scratch his ears. A growl - too deep for a cat - rumbled in his chest before he slunk off under a cabinet, his yellow eyes the only thing visible. 

Elain let out a deep breath, still laying flat on the floor. Change was coming, in the form of someone out to deceive her. Did they want to hurt her or the woods? She would never let that happen - the only way she would ever be separated from the woods was if her head were no longer attached to her body and plenty of people had tried and failed over the years. 

There were only two reasons anyone came to her remote dwelling: the first was if a wayside witch or warlock came to trade stories or materials or spend the night; the second was a mortal arriving to kill the bloodthirsty witch rumored to live in the forest. She didn’t get the sense that this person was magical - her territorial instincts would have been set off much sooner if a fellow witch was near. No, whoever was coming was definitely mortal. 

All this meant was that she was getting a visitor. 

Elain sat up and clapped her hands together, beaming. “Well ladies!” she said brightly, addressing the dead chicken and rabbit around her. “It looks like we’ll have a guest sometime soon - time to make the home presentable!”

XXX

Hosting an impromptu dinner party for a yet to be seen guest was not a skill Elain could say she was blessed with. She had already spent hours cleaning up her cozy and charming home and had to admit that anyone other than a fellow witch would be horrified at what they saw. 

Her altar to Mother was covered in dried blood and offerings; her apothecary filled with jars clearly labeled with all manner of poisons that would kill a human in seconds; a collection of bones, animals and human, children and adults, hung from the ceiling in the corner; and her fireplace was embarrassingly sooty and grimy. 

Elain bit her lip. Cleaning all this was a daunting task and she wasn’t sure how much time she had until her visitor arrived - the sun outside was beginning its journey towards the tops of the trees and it would be dark soon. She could cast a glamor but the magic required to transform her entire house for an extended period of time would take a significant sacrifice. Slave away to clean and put away her private items, or glamor her house to make it look like a normal human house? 

She had balked earlier today at the thought of giving any more of herself than needed to perform some basic Seer work and here she was, debating on sacrificing a not insignificant part of her body to hide her home and transform it into something human-like. Heaving a great sigh, she consulted her grimoire. More skin flaked off the cover. She thumbed through the pages as she went, ignoring spells allowing for someone to read other’s minds (too intrusive for Elain’s sensibilities), granting someone giant bat wings (cumbersome, how would they put shirts on?), and a potion granting the ability to change into a great beast (something to keep in the back of her mind, she thought appreciatively, if a man ever dropped by). Finally she found the glamor spell, written in old spidery handwriting. 

She bit her lip and groaned - she had never cast a glamor and didn’t realize the cost: a long list of herbs, various potion ingredients, an essence of the space being glamored and a sacrifice from the bearer. 

There was a sudden flapping at her window. Elain looked over to see The Ravens pecking at the window, begging to be let in. She opened the window and they hopped in, yammering at the tops of their voices.

“A stranger! A stranger approaches!”

“Deceit crowns him like the flames around his head!”

“Yes, yes, I know this already,” she snapped, her head beginning to throb. “It would have been nice if you two would have shown up earlier!” Gray hissed at her tone of voice and Elain hissed back. 

Elain threw her head back and groaned. Why did she even care who this person was or what they wanted? She could rip them to shreds as soon as they crossed the threshold of her clearing, dead before their body hit the ground. 

“Kill him and be done with it!” A Raven cried. Something soft twined itself around her ankles and she looked down to see Gray sitting dolefully at her feet, his prior memories gone for the moment. 

Because your familiars don’t talk back the way a human would, a taunting voice whispered in her ear. It was true. Elain was terribly lonely, having no one but The Ravens and Gray to talk to, and they never talked back - not in any meaningful way. She was so desperate for any type of interaction with something that didn’t either squawk or hiss at her, that she was willing to harm her body to give the appearance of normalcy so this stranger would spend time with her before trying to kill her, based on the handaxe they carried.

Despite the threat of violence that hung at her doorstep, Elain couldn’t help but feel a small sense of elation that someone was coming to visit her. If she could perhaps persuade or trick them into thinking she was somewhat normal and not a witch, they might even stay for a while and have a chat. She could make a normal human meal and talk about… What did humans talk about? The weather? Their occupations? Regardless, she would find out when her visitor arrived.

It seemed her decision was made. Taking another look at her grimoire, she began gathering the needed ingredients: pressed chamomile flowers, fresh sage, vervain, foxglove, a sprinkling of dried meadowsweet, nightshade, dandelion leaf, lemon balm, hibiscus and finally freshly plucked rose petals. She had nicked her fingers on the rose thorns as she collected the rose petals and cursed the plant, thinking that she should enchant her garden gloves to protect herself.

She placed the plants in her large mortar and consulted her ingredients cabinet. She began pulling the rest of the potion ingredients and adding them to the mortar as well: an owl wing, a mummified finger bone from a fellow witch who had died several centuries ago, a bit of a tongue from a man sentenced to hang for thieving, and her last vial of virgin’s tears. 

(Adding the virgin’s tears to the mortar brought up fond memories of the sniffling man she had killed to obtain said tears. Elain smiled softly to herself as she remembered collecting the tears from the dark haired man beneath her, after he had foolishly tried to seduce her by gifting her a glittering necklace. She had cut his throat with the glass charm and then wrung him dry.)

“Ravens,” she called to the twin birds, “could you bring the Cauldron blessed soil over here?”

Ever the dutiful servants, the birds glided down to the large pail full of soil and flew it over to her workstation, setting it next to the mortar. She scratched them behind the ears before shooing them away. 

This next part was perhaps the most difficult: an essence of her space being glamored. She glanced around her home. It was small but it had everything she needed: a small kitchen space, a cozy armchair by her fireplace, cabinets and nooks and crannies to store all her ingredients, books and knick-knacks, even a separate bedroom off to the side of her altar.

The altar. Of course. It was the only area in her entire home that defined her space, as it was Mother’s relics - her bit of bone and hair - that had literally brought the cottage into existence.

Nearly a century ago, after Elain spent months wandering woods and swamps and glens, she had taken a rest in this empty meadow with her few meager belongings: some clothes, her grimoire, and those physical bits of Mother that connected Elain to her ancestor and the original witch. When she awoke, she found herself on the ground in front of the entranceway of a small cottage. The only thing inside the empty cottage was a clean altar, Mother’s bone and hair placed neatly front and center. 

Mother’s relics were sacred and nearly impossible to come by now - for Elain to have two spoke of how highly Mother favored her, and why she pushed Elain to give more of herself than other witches. But could Elain sacrifice even a bit of these precious objects, items with which she derived her power and gave her everything she had and made her who she was? For a chance to have a normal conversation, to relieve this unending loneliness she experienced day in and day out?

She took her knife and began shaving a bit of Mother’s bone away. Yes, she would definitely give a bit of Mother in exchange for a normal house for her visitor. 

The bone shards fell into the mortar; black smoke wafted from the bone. She was almost done, just a sacrifice from herself. She knew it had to be significant. She had just given a bit of bone from Mother for the glamor - surely she would demand bone from Elain as well, or something similar. 

She ground her teeth in frustration - and did it again. Teeth were similar enough to bone and the effort and pain that would go towards getting it out of her mouth would surely count towards her sacrifice as well. Besides, her tooth would eventually grow back.

Elain grabbed a pair of rusty pliers out of her ingredient cabinet and steeled herself. Not giving herself time to talk herself out of what needed to be done, she wrapped the tip of the pliers around a back molar and tugged with all of her weight. 

A burst of white hot pain, some of the worst she had ever experienced, shot through her head. She gasped, choking on the blood that instantly filled her mouth and dripped down her throat and flooded over her lips. Elain stumbled, nearly falling to her knees and dropping everything that was in her hands. Whimpering and groaning, she blindly grabbed a kitchen towel and stuffed it in her mouth to try to staunch the flow of blood. She bit down gingerly with her back teeth and moaned at the excruciating pain that rocketed from her head all the way down to her feet.

She could fairly hear The Ravens squawking in concern around her, the slight breeze from their wings beating near her head wafting her hair away from her heated face. 

“Up, up, up!” one screeched, while another alighted to her side with a shiny red button in its mouth. It set it down on the ground and hopped back, looking at her expectantly. 

“Oh thank you,” Elain gritted out through the blood and towel. “What a nice gift.”

Taking a closer look at what The Raven had brought her, Elain saw that it wasn’t a red button but the tooth she had just yanked from her mouth. Reaching forward with a shaking hand, Elain grasped the slippery tooth and pushed herself up on colt-weak legs. She stared at the tooth in her hand. Bloody nerves and blood vessels dangled from the pale roots obscenely like a second pair of legs.

Elain struggled to stand and threw it in the mortar without a second glance. The pain was nearly blinding and she wiped the sleeve of her dress over her eyes to collect the few tears that were threatening to run down her face. She reached over to grab the pestle and began pounding and grinding the ingredients into a thick paste. 

She could feel the magic growing and forming as she continued working the mixture into a more coherent paste. Some of it traveled through the arm working the pestle and moved to her mouth, settling in the empty tooth socket and filling the void where her molar was just a few moments before, leaving a sharp zing in her mouth in addition to the throbbing ache in her jaw. Other traces of the magic traveled through her torso into her limbs, stretching all the way down to her toes, through the skin and seeping into her bones and marrow.

Finally the glamor paste was mixed and done; it had turned an oily black color, thick and sticky like molasses. Pure, raw power thrummed through her veins. This was what being a witch was all about, what made every sacrifice and day of loneliness worth it. The access to so much strength and potential made Elain feel drunk with giddiness and excitement and she realized belatedly the muffled, choking guffaws were coming from her own mouth.

The energy running through her veins was masking the pain in her mouth. Removing the bloody towel and replacing it with a clean cloth, she quickly consulted her grimoire for what she needed to do with the glamor paste. The paste needed to be spread around every opening of the space being glamored. She only had one window and the front door, so it didn’t take her long to spread the mixture around the frames with trembling hands, making sure the paste formed complete borders with no gaps.

Almost there. All she needed was to imagine the space she wanted and the glamor would take effect, and not too soon. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and the back of her neck with sweat, she could taste and smell nothing but the thick, metallic tang of her blood in her mouth and her legs felt like they were going to collapse under her at any moment. Turning and gripping the sides of her altar so hard her knuckles turned white, Elain thought of her cozy home free of anything that mortals might think odd and unseemingly. Gone were the bones dangling like a grotesque weeping willow in the corner; gone were her apothecary jars filled with poisons and items no one but witches would possess; gone, too, were the suspicious rectangular holes and mounds of all sizes behind her house, temporarily hidden from sight. Gone was her blood consecrated altar to Mother. The process of temporarily glamoring it felt like an act of betrayal to her very core. 

Elain opened her eyes. If she hadn’t been intimately familiar with every inch of her house, she would not have believed she still stood in her abode. Her bone collection had been transformed into dried stalks of corn. The apothecary cabinet had been filled with a series of glass jars holding cooking herbs. The altar was now a basic three drawer bureau and her grimoire was disguised as a cook book.

Her fireplace was clean, and a bubbling pot of chicken and rabbit stew was placed over the hot coals. A fresh loaf of steaming bread was on the clean kitchen table, already set for two with what appeared to be a bottle of wine set in the center. The floor was swept and a clean rug was in the entryway and a coat rack - with a coat and scarf she had never seen before - delicately hanging on a hook.

Elain sucked in a breath, looking around her in awe before registering the lack of pain in her mouth. Her tongue darted to the corner of her mouth where her missing back molar was. The tooth was still gone, the space empty in her gums, but it was no longer bleeding. She touched her mouth, face and hair, startling at the feel of suddenly soft locks framing her face. Racing to the small mirror she kept in her bedroom, Elain lifted it up to look at herself. 

All traces of blood, grime and dirt had been cleared from her face. Her dark brown hair, impossibly shiny and fluffy, hung around her round face in long, delicate waves. Her lips were parted in shock, her cheeks tinted with the light pink blush. Her large brown doe eyes were framed with long, dark eyelashes. 

Even her outfit had been glamored. Her dirty, rough dress she had been wearing was replaced with a pale pink dress with long sleeves, a buttoned bodice and a cinched waist that flared out to a pleated skirt. A white apron was tied around her waist. 

She had never seen herself look so… different. She no longer looked like a forest witch who regularly communed with nature; she was otherworldly in her beauty, stunning enough to bring anyone under her spell just by her appearance alone. 

Elain laughed in disbelief at everything around her. Mother went above and beyond what she had requested in her glamor. 

There was a crash from the front room followed by screeching from The Ravens. She ran out to find them flying around the room near the ceiling, a broken butter crock on the ground.

“The Fox approaches! He aims to kill!”

“The Fireling is near!”

Gray was sitting on the altar-turned-bureau, hissing and swatting at The Ravens as they flew around. 

“Yes, yes, I know they're near!” Elain shouted over the squawking of The Ravens. She moved Gray off of his perch as she tried to corral the birds towards their clean golden cage in the corner and picked up the broken butter crock and threw it in her waste can.

Elain took a deep breath. Besides her familiars running around like chickens with their heads cut off, everything was in order and ready. A mixture of excitement and nerves coursed through her veins. She felt drained from all the magic she had performed today but couldn't find herself regretting any of it. Soon, very soon, someone would be here, with her, in her house, hopefully talking and conversing with her like mortals do all the time. They would share a meal and some drink and she’d learn what was going on outside of the woods, what petty issues the humans concerned themselves with. It was terribly mundane but Elain had to pinch herself to keep from screaming.

And then this visitor would most likely try to kill her, but she could preemptively forgive that, as long as they behaved like a decent guest for a short time before they attempted to murder her. 

Suddenly Elain could feel the change in the air and knew the visitor was here. Smoothing out her dress, she swung open her door to reveal a tall, hooded figure, one hand raised as if to knock on the door. Their green hood fully obscured their face but she could make out a few deep red strings of hair peeking out.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds before the stranger lowered their hand.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the stranger said in a deep voice that shocked Elain and sent a ripple of excitement through her body. “I’m a traveler who has gotten lost in the woods. Would I be able to shelter in your house for the night?”

Liar, Elain thought with a smile on her plump lips. “Oh of course,” she replied graciously, her smile never straying from her mouth. “All manner of beasts lurk in the woods at night - do come in.”

The man stepped inside and threw back his hood, revealing the most magnificent man - mortal or otherwise - Elain had ever seen. He had golden bronze skin, framed, like The Ravens had said, with flaming fire-like hair falling past his shoulder blades in a long, straight sheath. He wore a clean tunic over dark brown pants with knee high boots and though he most likely thought himself clever by trying to hide it, she could see the outline of his handaxe on his hip under his clothing.

“Would you like to hang your cloak by the door?” Elain asked. 

Her visitor didn’t answer right away, taking a moment to study Elain and his surroundings and refusing to meet her gaze. “No thank you,” the man replied. “It’s rather cold outside and I’ll need it to warm up.” 

Elain nodded and moved aside so she could close the door behind him. An awkward silence followed, with Elain staring at the stranger and the man staring anywhere but her, his eyes narrowed slightly. She realized she had no idea how to be a good host - must she insist he take off his cloak or shoes? - but thought offering some comfort would be a good start.

“I have stew,” she said cheerfully, moving towards the fireplace. “Wine as well, if you’d like.”

“What’s in the stew?” he asked sharply, still standing stiffly by the door like a caged animal.

“Uh, chicken and rabbit. I threw in some carrots and potatoes - ”

“I - yes,” he said, coming to stand next to the kitchen table, flexing his hands. His eyes finally darted up towards hers, looking slightly abashed and surprised. “I apologize for my tone. I was rather nervous that I would be lost in the woods for the night.”

Liar, liar, Elain thought viciously to herself, turning her back on the man to stir the stew as she smiled to herself. You knew exactly where you were going.

Ladling two bowls of the stew, she turned back to him with a pleasant smile on her face, batting her eyelashes over her large doe eyes at the man. “My name is Elain, by the way. Stew?”

It had the desired effect - the man almost dropped the bowl she handed him, stammering his thanks, before he placed the stew on the table and drew back a chair to sit. 

Elain settled across the table from the man and opened the bottle of wine, pouring it into two glasses. It was a light golden color that sparkled in the firelight. 

“Honey wine,” Elain said without thinking, a tone of surprise in her voice - her favorite. The stranger raised an eyebrow at her, as if she should know what she had put on the table. Rushing to cover her slip up, she said, “Made from honey from my bees.”

The man sniffed his drink before taking a sip. “I didn’t notice any beehives as I was walking to your house.”

“They’re around the back,” Elain improvised. “With how cold it is, they’re not producing anything at this time of year.”

She took a sip from her glass, enjoying the sweetness that flowed over her tongue. Seeing Elain drinking, the man also took a sip and began eating his stew.

Companionable, if a little awkward, silence followed. Elain couldn't help herself from sneaking glances up at the mystery man, who steadfastly ignored all further eye contact with her and focused instead on his food or trying to discreetly look at her house, no doubt looking for evidence of witchcraft. Doubt was marring his face, however. He had clearly come here expecting some wizened hag and her bloody ramshackled abode, not a clean young lady in a homey but isolated cottage. 

She wasn’t sure how long the glamor would hold but prayed it would be long enough to get to know the man better.

“You know,” Elain started in a light teasing tone. “I’ve now invited you into the goodness of my home, and provided you with food and drink. I believe you owe me something in return.”

The man tensed in his seat; she noticed one of his hands leave the table. “Oh? What are you thinking?”

“Hmm.” Elain made a show of placing her chin in the palm of her hand, her fingers drumming along her cheek, her brows furrowed is if deep in thought. “Let’s start with your name. I’ve been calling you ‘Man’ and ‘Stranger’ in my head and that seems rather rude.”

The man relaxed. “My name is Lucien. Lucien Vanserra.”

Now it was Elain’s turn to narrow her eyes in thought. “Vanserra? Are you related to the local baron?”

“Aye,” Lucien answered, relaxing fully and grinning softly, confidently, as if he thought the power and prestige of his family could protect him from the horrors Elain was already picturing for him. “My reputation precedes me. The seventh son of the Baron. With six brothers ahead of me, I’ve had plenty of time over the years to travel the land, get to know the people here very well,” he smirked.  

Elain could see the exact moment when Lucien no longer suspected her of being the gruesome witch the local villages gossiped about: his body loosened like jelly, his eyes stopped taking in his surroundings and his sultry gaze focused solely on her. The heat from the fire was nothing like the fire in Lucien’s eyes as he openly gazed at her and discarded his traveling cloak over the back of his chair. 

She felt her inner witch awaken and stir with hunger, the need to tear, rip, kill rising, boiling her blood and causing it to sing in joy and exhilaration. Soon, she thought to herself. For the time being, at least, she was still a gracious host to her lordly visitor and would need to wait to pounce on her prey. 

“And why was such an esteemed and noble gentleman like yourself wandering the woods this late at night, unarmed and alone?” Elain asked innocently, taking a sip of her wine. Her tongue peeked out from between her lips to gather at the liquid on her lips and she noted Lucien tracking the movement of her tongue like a hawk.

He drew in a stuttering breath. “I’m on my way to Alton to look to purchase a new riding coat. It’s an easy enough walk that I've done dozens of times so I didn’t bother bringing anyone with me. I got distracted and found myself off the trail, wandering the woods until I came across your little cottage.” 

Liar, liar, liar. Whatever he said, Elain knew Lucien originally came here with all intents and purposes to harm her even if he no longer thought her a witch but she could barely stifle her feet from tapping the ground excitedly. Here she was, talking and eating with a handsome mortal who talked back in complete sentences, who answered her questions and no longer believed she was the fearsome witch everyone thought lived here. All it had taken were her precious ingredients, a bit of her most prized possession, a tooth pried from her mouth with her own hands and the most pain she had ever experienced in her life.

What an utterly delightful evening she was having. 

Lucien smiled lazily at her like a cat that got the cream as he leaned back in his chair and finished his wine. “Now, what’s a beautiful young lady like yourself doing out here in this remote place? Does anyone live here with you?”

Elain blushed. No one had ever called her beautiful before. “I… ah… moved out here a short time ago. I’m originally from a small village down south but when my father died I had nowhere to go so I started making my way north. I heard of this abandoned house and that’s that,” Elain ended lamely. 

Lucien hummed as he poured himself another glass. “And no other family?”

“Nope. No one but me.” Elain took a large mouthful of her stew to buy her more time and hopefully distract Lucien from asking any more questions.

She did have family but she hadn’t seen her two sisters in years. She had no idea where they were or what they were up to; knowing Nesta, death and destruction, and Feyre, hunting mortals for sport. 

The light from the fire reflected off his russet eyes. “It must be lonely, being here all by yourself.”

Before she could answer, The Ravens started cawing from their cage. Lucien jumped, spilling some of the wine on his tunic.

“Oh, ignore them!” Elain called, rushing over to The Ravens and dragging a blanket to cover their cage. “Just some noisy birds -”

“Ah, so you don’t live here by yourself,” Lucien said conspiratorially, grinning at her. He walked over to the cage before Elain could cover them. They began screeching even louder as he approached, puffing their chests and flapping their wings at him. 

“Stranger! Stranger!”

Lucien tilted his head and stared at the birds. “Fascinating,” he whispered. “I know ravens can sometimes imitate speech but it’s rare. Did you teach them this?”

“Oh no, they, uh, came with the house,” Elain laughed weakly, throwing the frayed blanket over their cage. Immediately the birds settled and quieted. 

Elain was about to suggest they head back to the kitchen table when a small mass streaked by her and stopped at Lucien’s feet. Gray hissed at Lucien and butted his head against his ankle, herding Lucien away from the birds - and towards the front door.

That little bastard. Ignoring Lucien’s confused stutters, Elain picked up Gray and bundled him to her so he couldn’t claw and bite her. Gripping his body and neck tight, Elain hurried towards the bedroom. “Behave, or I’ll slit your throat,” she whispered in the cat’s ear. Gray growled and Elain tossed him in the bedroom before quickly shutting the door behind her.

Elain turned back to see Lucien staring at her. “An old forest cat,” she blurted out. “He’s rather resistant towards staying indoors.”

Lucien huffed a laugh. “You didn’t tell me you already had houseguests,” he teased, smirking at Elain with a heat and familiarity that far exceeded the short time they had spent together. 

“Well, a couple of loud birds and an angry housecat don’t make the best guests,” she said, shrugging her shoulders and grinning back shyly. “I was hoping they’d all be on their best behavior.” 

“And have you?” Lucien asked, sitting in her single cozy armchair. His voice had lowered an octave and he was staring at her with an intensity that rivaled the fire just a short distance away.

“Am I what?” Elain asked, walking to stand a few feet in front of Lucien, keeping her breath steady. 

“Have you been on your best behavior for your esteemed guest?” His hand shot out to grasp her wrist and dragged her on top of him, her knees bracketing his hips. His warm lips placed small kisses on the inside of her wrist, moving up her forearm.

“It must be so lonely, being here all by yourself, with only some half-feral animals to keep you company,” he whispered, his voice low and deep. One hand kept her wrist steady in his grasp while the other trailed lazily up her body, along her outer thigh, a hip, then moving to her back and moving higher and higher up her body.

For as long as it had been since she last talked to someone, it had been even longer since she’d been intimate with another. She had had plenty of affairs with fellow witches and some warlocks over the years. Most recently a gorgeous blonde witch with the most beautiful red cape had spent the night in her bed and fucked Elain so thoroughly she had needed days to recover. 

To say she was going through a dry spell was an understatement. 

Elain took a shuddering breath, both to steady her nerves from his words and the feeling of his hand that had reached the back of her head and was now tangling in her hair, his fingers lightly massaging his scalp. She placed her hands on his shoulders and felt him flex his muscles. “It’s not that bad. I have my garden and my animals and my bees - “

“Oh, you lovely fawn,” Lucien whispered. “You wear your loneliness like a second skin, tighter than this dress you have on.” 

She froze. That he had managed to get to the crux of her deepest shame so swiftly felt more damning towards her than any intelligence on his part. Had she been that obviously desperate? Should she have not been so inviting when she let him in and fed him? She had only wanted to be kind and welcoming to make him doubt, if only for a time, that she was a violent and bloody witch who could easily flay him alive.

Elain swallowed. “You must think yourself so clever to come to my home and attempt to make the measure of me based on knowing me for only a short amount of time.” 

He chuckled. “Do you know what they call me? Lord of the Foxes, because I’m so smart and adept at reading people, figuring out what they want, what they desire.” The hand holding her wrist released her, his fingers weaving a delicate trail along the sensitive skin of her arm.

“Oh yes?” Elain said imperiously, trying desperately to wrest some control back into her hands. “And what is it that I want?”

Lucien smiled, all teeth and for a flash of a moment, Elain thought she had underestimated the man beneath her. “Me,” Lucien snarled, bringing her head down to his and claiming her lips in a brutal kiss. 

A bolt of lightning must have struck the house and landed squarely on Elain. That was the only explanation she could think of when Lucien’s lips met hers and a zap of heat moved through her entire body. His lips were plump and slightly chapped and they moved effortlessly against her own. His one hand remained tangled in her hair, pulling softly, while his other hand moved to her chin so he could better direct her face over his. His tongue stroked against her closed lips, begging for entrance, for more, and she obliged, parting her lips with a gasp as she tasted the sweet wine on his lips.

He wasn’t entirely wrong, Elain thought dazedly. She did want him - just not the way he was perhaps thinking. 

“Such a perfect flower you are, blooming for me so prettily,” he rasped against her jaw. His hands had dropped to her hips, squeezing the flesh there in his big hands. The honey wine had clearly given way to honeyed words, if his soft ramblings were anything to go by: she heard compliments - so beautiful, such perfect lips - and praise - yes, move your hips like that, you’re doing so well - and fevered confessions - I want nothing more than to hear you moan for me. His words sent a frisson of heat between her legs and Elain was helpless to do anything more than feebly clutch his shoulders and take whatever Lucien was willing to give. 

His hands left her hips to move to her bodice and began slowly thumbing the buttons there. Elain was in no mood to be teased; she swatted his hands away and began unbuttoning the top of her dress herself, staring down at Lucien through heavy half-lidded eyelids. 

The sides of her breasts were just visible after Elain had finished. Apparently no longer wanting to delay any longer, Lucien gripped her bodice and tugged, exposing her pert breasts to the warm air. 

Lucien groaned at the sight of her breasts and immediately moved to cup the small swells in the palms of his hands. Elain gasped and shuddered, silently begging him to do more than just fondle her tits. He pressed between her shoulder blades towards him so she was forced down closer to him and his lips sucked a peaked nipple into his mouth.

“These tits are perfect,” Lucien groaned, sounding drunk off her body. Elain let him suck and caress and lick her breasts, feeling the rush of his fevered touches and words move through her body and end on her throbbing center. She wanted too many things at once - she wanted those clever lips of his elsewhere on her body, she wanted more confessions spoken into her skin like a sinner at church. Most of all, she wanted to see and feel more of the hard length she felt twitching against her covered center. 

She settled on moving her hands to his luxurious hair and threading her fingers through the deceptively thick strands, giving a slight tug on his roots so he was forced to detach himself from her breasts and stare up at Elain, wild-eyed, lips swollen and glistening, his chest heaving.

She stared unblinkingly into his eyes, willing him to see and sense her desire for him - not just physical but emotionally, mentally. Damn him, but she wanted him more than she anticipated. She had only set up this farce of an evening as an excuse to temporarily fool the stranger beneath her to spend time with her, talk with her, before he undoubtedly went about his murderous plot. Now here she was, a writhing, panting mess in his arms and lap, letting him lick and fondle her to his - and her - heart’s content. She couldn’t get any more attached to this arrogant mortal than she already was.

Lucien stared right back at her, one of his hands drifting upwards to cup her cheek in his hand in the first bit of tenderness he’d shown all evening and she’d received in years. She melted into him like a newborn deer, turning her head slightly to kiss his palm. A spark ran through her lips at the contact with his warm flesh; based on the surprised gasp from Lucien, he felt that same spark as well.

A pause that lasted two, three heartbeats, then Elain tore into Lucien with a ferocity that surprised even her, and Lucien met her with a frenzy of his own.

His big hands rushed down her body and forcefully bunched up her dress so he had unguarded access to the heated flesh between her thighs. His fingers glided along her bare thighs towards her center and they gasped in unison at what he found.

“Oh, my darling fawn,” he groaned, lightly brushing a finger through the wetness between her thighs. “Do you always walk around bare, with nothing under your pretty dresses?”

Elain whimpered against his neck, too flushed with arousal to answer that yes, of course she never wore anything under her dress, why would she, when his cunning finger rubbed against her clit. Elain could feel the heat from Lucien’s eyes trained on her face the entire time he rubbed and caressed her folds, a satisfied smile gracing his lips whenever he found a particularly sensitive area.

Without warning, a single thick digit entered her pussy. Elain gasped at the sudden intrusion, shocked at how good a single finger could feel. She crashed her lips against his, clutching his upper arms for dear life and shifting her hips over his hand when another finger entered her slick channel, stretching out her sensitive walls and stilling inside her. Lucien nipped her chin and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Elain gave a shaky nod and Lucien began moving his fingers inside her at a leisurely pace. 

It would be a shame that she’d have to kill him after this night. 

As Lucien’s fingers picked up their pace inside her, his thumb slid up her folds to circle her clit in quick motions at the same tempo as his fingers. His clever fingers, so thick inside her, reached ridges and flesh her own fingers couldn't. Her hips were moving over his on their own volition, rocking onto his hand for more thrusting, more friction, more anything.

She was so close. A little more, a little more, she begged, not realizing she had spoken aloud until Lucien answered, “Yes, yes, anything -” 

One last quick flick against the side of her clit and Elain was tumbling down an impossibly deep mountain, falling and falling, gasping her pleasure-filled moans for anyone to hear. Lucien worked her through her orgasm, his fingers steady inside her before she grabbed his wrist to stop his ministrations, the nerves in her pussy hypersensitive to any more stimulus. 

No, Elain thought, as she came down from her high, Lucien’s smug grin highlighting his perfect face, why must she get rid of him? She bore him no ill will for his original plans, even if he hadn’t confessed as to why he originally came to her home. He was a handsome man that coincidentally also found her attractive and freely gave her pleasure. Why should he be separated from her? 

A plan, half formed in her hazy post-orgasmic brain, was taking root. Why indeed should this exceptionally stunning man be reduced to spare parts around her house? She originally thought to strip his skin and bind her grimoire with it, pluck out his eyes and install them over her door to serve as an alarm system, cut his lovely hair and use it as thread to mend her pillowcase, or perhaps make a lovely decorative wreath with it. 

Using his body and discarding it would be a waste when it was his charm, his cocksure grin, his breathy moans and whispered words that attracted Elain and made her mad with desire. She couldn’t stand to be parted from this man after tonight.

Reaching down to his breeches, she began fumbling with his ties with trembling, excited fingers, barely able to contain her glee. She pulled his hard cock out from his pants and wasted no time in wrapping her hand around his length and pumping her fist. He was harder than a rock and thick, covered in the same golden bronze skin as the rest of him. Small tufts of amber pubic hair peeked out around his cock and Elain was desperate to get him bare, to see how much hair crowned his length but she could be patient and wait another time. 

There would be plenty of time for that later, after she had bound them together. 

Elain continued moving her hand up and down his swollen cock, twisting her wrist at the fat, red tip and squeezing slightly. Lucien threw his back and screwed his eyes shut, his hands grasping his hips and thighs.

“Look at me,” Elain commanded. Lucien snapped to attention, transfixed as he watched Elain spit in her hand and continue moving her hand up and down his cock, squeezing his base as well as the sensitive tip.

“Fuck,” Lucien gasped. He grit his teeth and a vein popped out of his neck; Elain resisted the urge to bend down and bite and tear the vein out and slurp it down, instead leaning forward to nip at his lips. She bit just hard enough to draw blood and delighted in his moans as the taste of his heady, metallic blood filled her mouth.

“Gods I’m close,” he groaned against her lips. Elain doubled her efforts, her wrist and forearm beginning to ache but she dared not stop, needing to see Lucien combust at her hands.

“Come for me,” Elain whispered in his ear, tugging his earlobe between her teeth as her hand clutched the tip of his cock, “and I’ll show you even more of what I can do.”

With a strangled moan, his spend spurted over her hand and landed on his breeches and her dress. She kept moving her hand up and down his length as he climaxed, feeling his cock pulse and throb in her grip. He had made a thorough mess of her but she found she couldn’t be angry - not when she suddenly had everything she wanted.

Lucien lay boneless beneath her, his body twitching with the aftershocks of his orgasm as the final drops of his come tribbled out of his softening cock. Lifting her come-covered hand to her lips, Elain took a tentative swipe over her fingers, then another when Lucien let out a wrecked groan at the sight of her licking his spend from her hand. 

He grinned lazily at her. “How fortunate for both of us that I became lost in the woods this evening.” He was breathless, still recovering from his orgasm, his half lidded eyes taking in her flushed cheeks and disheveled appearance. 

Elain leaned forward and brushed her lips against his before moving her lips to kiss along his jaw, one of her hands trailing down his body. “Well, we both know that’s not true, is it?”

Lucien froze beneath her. Her lips moved to his neck and she could feel his pulse beating wildly against the skin of his throat, could hear the rush of blood through his veins and arteries as his heart began beating a wild staccato in his body. 

“Elain?“

“You were never lost. You entered the woods for one purpose: to kill the witch who lives here.” She leaned away from his body but kept herself on his lap. His eyes were wide with shock and a hint of fear. Only a small sliver of russet shown in his nearly black eyes.

“How - what -”

“You’ve been lying to me the moment you stepped through the threshold of my house,” she tsked. “Naughty boy. And once you decided I was no threat, merely a mortal woman, you decided to seduce me instead?” 

Lucien stared at Elain with a mixture of blatant fear and rage roiling in his eyes. Neither moved for a second before his arms suddenly reached down to his side while his hips tried to buck her off of him. With preternatural speed and strength, Elain squeezed her thighs around his hips to prevent him from tossing her off him, while one of her hands shot out to wrap around his neck and squeezed.

“Looking for this?” From behind her back she pulled the handaxe that had been on his hip. She applied a bit more pressure to his neck, watching with delight as his face slowly turned more and more red. One of his hands flew to her wrist at his neck and the other reached towards the handaxe feebly. Elain chuckled. “Men really get far too relaxed with women after their cock’s get a little attention.”

Lucien’s eyes were becoming bloodshot as she strangled him, his face swelling and small, purple clusters of broken blood vessels appearing over his skin. He thrashed against her like a bucking bull, trying his hardest to escape.

Elain shushed him gently. “This will all be over soon,” she cooed. “Be still, just for a moment.”

Elain brought the handaxe down on the largest expanse of his available skin - his face. She only intended to skim his cheek but he jerked at the last moment and the sharp blade of the ax ran down the side of his face, too deep, over one of his precious eyes.

She threw the handaxe away after she had cut Lucien and removed her hand from his throat. Lucien screamed in pain as his hands went to his face to cover his bloody, mangled flesh and he threw his weight around to try to force Elain off of him.

She tried to pry his hands off his face but he refused to budge, moaning to himself through his pain. “Lucien, stop, I can make it better -”

“Get away!” he gasped, shaking with fear and blood loss, a whimpering mess. “Gods, please, just let me go!”

Elain sighed sadly. “I can’t do that. I told you I would show you even more of what I can do.”

Ignoring Lucien’s shuddering moans, Elain forced her hands against his bloody face, letting some of his blood mix with his come still on her hands. She licked at the mixture, her eyes slipping closed at how good Lucien tasted. 

Cutting her palm with her nails, she let her own blood mix with Lucien’s fluids. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, clearing her mind of all the external forces around her. Steadying herself, she began chanting:

Seed of my enemy, wrought from my hand

Blood of my enemy, I command

Transform this man, bound to me

Into a beast, ne’er wild and free

Lucien’s eyes rolled back in his head as the spell took effect. Scrambling off his lap, Elain watched in breathless delight as his body seized and twitched, his blood seeping into the fabric of the chair around him. His body slumped in the chair and he gave one last heaving breath before his body went still and silent.

Elain smiled. Now all she had to do was wait.

XXX

Hours, then days, passed. Lucien’s form was curled in front of the fireplace, now as sooty and dingy as ever. The glamor had remarkable staying power - it had lifted only earlier that evening in waves and pieces until finally, her beloved cottage had returned to its normal appearance. 

A soft whimper came from the bundled mass in front of the fire. Elain shot up from her chair and rushed to kneel next to Lucien, cooing softly and running a gentle hand down his body.

Russet eyes shot open in fear and alarm at the sight of her. He tried to back away from her but his body was weak after her spell. 

“It’s alright,” she murmured softly. She gave him her nicest smile, showing her lovely sharpened teeth. “You’re fine. You’re safe with me.”

Lucien finally got ahold of his bearings and tried raising himself off the floor but was hampered with his extra limbs. Flailing about, he looked wildly at himself as best he could in his new body. No doubt he could make out the most impressive features: four slim, strong legs and a small body covered in an auburn pelt with a long, bushy tail. Lucien fumbled about and began barking, his fear palpable.

It was only fair that a man who thought himself as a Lord of Foxes would turn into such a lovely fox himself. 

Elain waited patiently for Lucien to settle down. “Do you really think you’re the first person who’s tried to kill me?” She cocked her head at him. “Hardly. In fact, I've had plenty of practice turning violent men into my pets.”

A soft fluttering and then two light weights perched on her shoulders. Elain saw Lucien’s panicked eyes dart to The Ravens who had appeared. 

“These two,” she said, motioning to the birds, “were the first. Sent by some of my father’s acquaintances after I murdered him and fled. Twins. For human men, they put up a decent fight. I was going to just kill them and throw them in the chicken coop but thought, two assassins who call themselves The Ravens may have their uses. They’ve been like this for so long they’ve completely forgotten they were ever humans and only answer to me.”

Lucien now appeared paralyzed with fright, too scared to do anything but stare between the two birds cuddling against Elain. His terror was palpable and was the most delicious thing Elain had ever tasted.

Some softness grazed Elain’s leg as Gray rubbed himself against her, purring loudly. She smiled and reached down to stroke him behind his ears.

“And this one,” she said fondly, “was the son of a local lord who thought himself a general, with his impressive horse and iron armor. He came with his men to kill me and take the forest from me.” Elain laughed but there was no humor in her voice. “He was before your time - maybe the people still talk of the missing lordling who entered the woods one day and never returned. He’s still resisting the change but it’s been nearly fifty years - soon he’ll have forgotten all about those pesky human memories and emotions.”

Lucien was making soft whining sounds, his ears flat to his head, his body trembling. He was looking around wildly like he might escape but Elain saw defeat cloud his eyes.

“But you’re different,” Elain said indulgently. “None of the others tried to get to know me, none of them told me I was beautiful and made me come on their fingers. I’ll admit, I was just going to kill you but thought how nice of an evening we had together and what a waste it would be if I never got to kiss those lips again. When I allow it, you’ll be able to change back into your human form temporarily - when I need someone to talk to, or when I want you to use those clever fingers on me again.”

She patted his head and felt a growl rumble in his chest. His lips were in a snarl, his canines gleaming in the firelight. He raised himself on his new four legs and puffed himself up to make himself appear larger than he was.

Elain sighed happily. He was adorable, and all hers.

“Welcome home, my clever little fox.”

[goddamnwebcomics]

Alright. So what are the best character designs you've encountered in a webcomic? It can't all be bad.

Oh sure, this time I'll go in no particular order. Let me start with the most obvious.

1. Matt from Gene Catlow

I may be biased but Matt is a character design masterpiece, he's got a simple yet effective design that captures his personality as a self-serving schemer. His appearance is very much inspired by Cassius from Kimba the White Lion, making him appear as a vicious panther-like cat as opposed to Gene's tomcat design. Matt is also sexy despite not being conventionally attractive, but part of that is thanks to the wide range of emotions Matt goes through. He is the most emotional character in this comic, and his expressions come off as natural due to how flexible his face is. He can look adorable in one panel and scary as hell in the next. You can tell Albert put a ton of care in Matt's design. It didn't start out perfect, hell, it didn't even look like him at all, but eventually, he became the design masterpiece he is now.

2. Dr. Universe from Spinnerette

While Krawniverse is an annoying objectivist self-insert, I think he has a great design. The mad scientist look that is eyecatching from the get go. He also does look somewhat like a normal human being when he's in a civilian outfit, but he looks so much more interesting as the mad scientist. I went with the black jacket he wore at the beginning of Fat Spinny arc as my favourite look for him.

Demikhov does also deserve a shoutout for being a russian remix of Universe's design.

3. N.O.S. from Console Girl

Of course the best character from Console Girl also has the best design, it really sucks that every other console's design prioritizes author's fetishes or cosplay instead of giving them an unique outfit that have the colors of console on the forefront. N.O.S. not only looks great, she can go from elegant to psychotic in the blink of an eye. Her grey skin also makes more sense than with Vibibi because it's part of the CONSOLE's color. She also looks oddly cute when she doesn't do the mad eyes.

4. Sir Ari from Kit n Kay Boodle

It's a snake with a top hat. Sometimes less is more.

5. Celesto Morgan from Dominic Deegan

This is another biased choice but of all the characters in Deegan Celesto has the best design, he has a consistent hairstyle and his design is the perfect foil for Deegan. He started off as Szark/Lady Szark's lover who later became the truth-spitting edgelord we all know and love. I also like how his eyes glow black instead of white, which probably fits the seers more. Anytime shit is about to go down Celesto will show up, but he also might show up to bang some chick.

6. Stealth from Alien Dice

Yes, Stealth is also in the best design list, more specifically her old design. Even if Tiffany has learned to draw the new Stealth, the old design is just so much superior. I think Stealth's old design may be my favourite of all the dice designs as rest of them are either malformed animals or discount Digimon. She looks like what you expect alien cat to look like with green large eyes, two tails and hypnotic fur pattern. Can you imagine what the evolved forms would've looked like if she never got whitewashed? Just...keep the human hair out.

7. Alejandra Coldthorn from Las Lindas

Chalo's art and Las Lindas as a whole peaked during Alej's revenge, originally she was just another big booby cow with tight office clothes but when she plotted the insane scheme of ruining Mora's life she became both fashionable and threatening at once. I love her brown jacket and her much more menacing demeanor. Makes you think she's gonna play the World's Most Dangerous Game with Las Lindas residents. Of course that didn't last long, but damn, Alej was so fun to watch during this time and her design here was the cherry on top of the cake.

8. Bloodcrow from Spinnerette

We end on another Spinnerette character. Bloodcrow is a tragedy because when he isn't wearing that stupid Birdman of Alcatraz mask he looks actually really sexy even with his facial scars. He's also built great like damn. Now I kinda wish I could riff that porn co-OKAY I STOP.

[nel-world]

hi

You know, I needed a job. So, I’m flipping through the student paper, and I see this opening in the computer lab. Perfect, right? Except, I knew next to nothing about computers. I mean, I knew how to turn one on, and if something went wrong, just reboot it. Coding? Programming? Troubleshooting? Yeah, no.

I go in for the interview with this quiet guy named Dominick. He’s wearing glasses, a buttoned-up shirt, light brown khakis, and Nike running sneakers. He goes, “Hi, Kunal, nice to meet you,” in this soft, high-pitched voice. “What are your skills?”

And I’m like, “Troubleshooting, programming, Excel, PowerPoint.”

He’s like, “Can you give me more details?”

“Sure, I’ve read courses online, fixed bugs on my computer, developed applications.”

“I like you. I’m going to hire you,” he says. Bingo! “Given your advanced skill set, I’m going to give you a very special project.”

So, he turns to the computer and opens up some software I’ve never seen before. “The school is integrating this new voice recognition software. I want you to figure it out, dissect it, and write an entire instruction manual.”

So, three days a week, four hours a shift, I’m trying to figure out this voice recognition software. First day, I’m taking it very seriously. I speak into the microphone, “The cat drank the cow’s milk.” On-screen: “You drank the milk.” I try again, slowly… “You drank the milk.” I basically give up after a few days. I spend fifteen minutes on the software and the rest of the time chatting.

The week passes, the manual is due, and I’ve got nothing. I decide to write something like, “Click the L button… etc.”

Then Dominick emails me. “I have some troubling news.” Shit. My scholarships. Dominick takes off his glasses. “The school has decided to stop the software. The license expired.”

I say, “Whatever’s best for the university.”

“Because of your hard work, I’m promoting you to lab manager of the engineering building.” And he bumps me up to nine dollars an hour. I was a good lab manager.

After college, I got a job as a waiter. But I also had to wash dishes. I was slow. The restaurant needed clean dishes to keep running, so I kept going. The owner would come over, shaking his head and yelling, “Wash the pots first! Why are you washing the plates? We have lots of plates!” When he got really frustrated, he’d grab the spray nozzle and clean a bunch of pots in minutes.

Then, I got a job as a used car salesman. Apparently, you need zero qualifications for that. The car lot manager, Larry, was a sixty-year-old alcoholic. I wouldn’t see him for days, and then he’d come and sell ten Dodge Neons in a week. I looked up to him as a top-notch car pusher. I learned from Larry and got good enough to afford HomeTown Buffet once a week. I knew that if I worked hard, I could afford Red Lobster one day.

I saw a job posting in the college newspaper for a telemarketer. The college building was squeezed between a sandwich place and a bookstore. The guy interviewing me looked like Paul Giamatti from "Billions," but there were no billions to be made here.

He asked simple questions like, “Who’s used a computer before? Who knows how to use a phone?” I got hired and was given a script. My job was to keep alumni on the line and talk about how great the university was. I’d ask them for a hundred bucks to support the college. One alum, Milli, says, “Oh, I’m barely scraping by on a fixed income. A hundred dollars? Not happening.” So, I lower it to fifty. Still no. Then twenty. She agrees.

After an hour, a bell rings for a break. The boss stands on a chair and announces how much everyone brought in. He gives cookies to the top three earners. It was an interesting experience, but I quit before the semester started.

[ermbabyel]

Hi! I was wondering if you could match me with a Stardew Valley male character. (If you have time and you feel like doing it, if not, its completely okay :))

So I'm a 20 year-old girl with dark blonde hair, heterochromy (one eyes is brown and the other greener). Im short, by the way :').

Now, about my personality, I'm very social, but at the same time Im an introvert. I am very anxious and i kinda fall into being a people-pleaser, but im getting better. I am a very lovely person who enjoys a calm and joyous ambience. I love my friends and family and I try to help them if they ever have any problem.

I love animal, i own two dogs, but if i could i would have lots of other animals: cows, rabbits, birds, cats, hamsters...

Im also studying fine arts, and although i dont do it too much, i enjoy reading and wayching series and films.

Im a helpless lover, but have trouble with intimacy and physical contact, and showing my deepest feelings. Besides, sometimes i feel a little bit depressed, and lazy (or burnt out, i dont know).

Still, overall, Im a very happy person and I love playing games (any kind: vudeogames, board games, child games..)

And thats pretty much all :))

Hello~! I’d love to match you up, I hope you enjoy~! :3

Your stardew matchup is…Sebastian~

Sebastian kind of has a tough exterior, but I think your kind and warm presence can help him break down some walls. And of course, it’ll take some time to get him to fully open up to you.

I can see you two becoming close after sharing the same interests in gaming and board games. Sebastian would ask you to play “Solorian Chronicles” with him and Sam.

Sebastian is also passionate about frogs. And with your passion about animals as well, he’s more than excited to show you how knowledgeable he is with frogs.

Sebastian understands you having a hard time showing intimacy, so he won’t push you until you feel ready. Honestly, he’s the same way, but he wants to make sure you’re comfortable with him.

But once you get comfortable with each other, Sebastian is very subtle with his physical intimacy. For example: He’ll give you a gentle kiss on the forehead when you’re buried deep in a book.

He’d bring you to the saloon to hangout with Sam and Abigail on Friday nights. I can see you and Abigail being really good friends as well.

Sebastian appreciates how caring and help you are to others, but worries it’ll eventually drain you. So, he takes the time and effort to make sure you’re taking care of yourself as well.

I think Sebastian will love your calm and joyous ambiance. He appreciates the quiet side of life with you and loves how he can just relax and let himself relax in your presence.

I hope you liked your matchup~! Feel free to request again. 🥰💜

[dp-marvel94]

Birds of a Feather- Part 1

Summary: Later, Danny would say it started with an itch right below his shoulder blades, an itch that never seemed to go away. But in truth… the first sign was the corvids.

Prompt by @zomb1e-teethteeth Ever since the portal incident, most animals have been incredibly wary around Danny due to his pseudo-undead nature. Except for corvids, which have taken to flocking around him at all hours of the day. (PR395)

Words Count: 2,845

Also on AO3 and FF.net

“Fetch, Cujo!” Standing in front of the fountain, Danny threw the stick, smiling as the green puppy ran after it. His eyes followed the figure. Soon, it disappeared through the trees. Disappeared…

The boy blinked, brow furrowing. “Cujo?” He called. 

No response. Danny frowned. Maybe the dog did disappear, literally. It was a ghost after all. 

“Come here, boy!” He tried again.

A bark sounded, a panting form running out of the trees. The boy perked up. Except… shaggy brown fur, longer legs, floopier ears. This was a different, definitely not ghostly, dog. Still, the animal trotted forward excitedly, a stick in its mouth. It slowed to a stop, five feet from Danny.

The half ghost held his hand out, eyes flickering to the collar. “Hey, where’s your owner?” He took a step forward. 

But the dog shrunk back, whining. 

Danny froze, shoulders falling. “It’s okay.” He tried to soothe. 

The dog dropped the stick, before turning tail and running away. 

The boy sighed. “That keeps happening.”

Sam’s cat, every dog he sees at the park, the rabbits and guinea pigs at the pet store, even the cows and sheep when he and his friends went to the county fair last month…. Even since the accident, most animals have been warry, even incredibly fearful towards him. Something in Danny’s heart clenched, disappointed. This really shouldn’t bother him. He’s not an animal person, never really had been. He’d never been interested in working with animals. He didn’t live on a farm, like his mom had growing up or like his aunt did now. He’d never even had a pet. So it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t a big deal. And yet…

Danny flopped heavily down onto the stone border around the fountain, frowning deeply. From the trees, echoing barks sounded. Soon, a little green dog came running out of the woods. Cujo yipped happily, dropping his stick. Then the dog ran up to Danny. Hoping up on his back legs, Cujo planted his front legs in Danny’s lap and started licking the boy’s hand. 

His lips slowly stretched into a smile. He scratched the dog’s head with his free hand. “At least you like me.”

Cujo yipped again, before jumping up to sit on Danny’s lap. The boy patted his dog for a long moment. Yeah, at least, ghostly animals didn’t have any problem with him, even their living counterparts always ran away or cowered in fear.

Or so Danny thought…

So lost in his thoughts, the boy didn’t notice the ruffle of feathers beside him. Then… there was a chirp. The half ghost turned his head and… there, not a foot from him, was a young raven, its black feathers glistening in the sun.

Danny held his breath, waiting for it to let out a distressed cry, to fly away in fear. But instead… shiny black eyes fixed on him. The raven tilted its head, almost curious.

The half ghost’s brow furrowed. He tensed as the bird hopped forward. What was it doing? Another hop and…the boy gasped, surprised. Smooth black feathers brushed up against his arm. 

Danny looked down, gapping in surprise. The bird had sat down beside him. Beady eyes gazed up at him as well before blinking. The raven looked away, shifting slightly, as if to get more comfortable. One of its wings brushed his leg. A curious chirp, just like before, exited its throat. 

With wide, confused eyes, the half ghost looked between the dog and the bird. Cujo wagged his tail, having only eyes for Danny as the boy patted him; he hadn’t even noticed the bird. The raven chirped a third time. 

Danny’s brow furrowed. What did this bird want? It ruffled its feathers, instantly brushing up against him. And… the boy blinked. He had an idea…

Tentatively, so tentatively, he reached down. A finger touched the black feathers and… the bird instantly relaxed into the touch. It let out a low humming sound, eyes softly closing. It squeezed once, as Danny gently stroked its wings, before it kept humming.

Something in his core leapt. It sounded…. Happy, he thought. Danny continued petting the soft black, feathers. It looked like all living animals didn’t hate him after all.

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

The raven stayed by his side long after Cujo hopped off his lab and started chasing his tail. The bird stayed until the sun went down and Danny had to go home. But the next time he came to the park, it returned. 

“Hey there.” Danny greeted as it swopped down, handing on his outstretched hand. He gently scratched its beak, eliciting a pleased thrum.

The raven hung around as he played with Cujo that day. Then, when he transformed, it flew with him back to his house, landing on the tree outside his window as he phased inside and turned back into a human. The bird stayed there all night, waking him up with loud caws in the morning. Danny glared out the window and… instead of one bird looking at him through the window, there were two.

That first raven had gained a friend, now a pair of birds that followed him on his flight to school. But soon, two birds became three, became five, became ten, became twenty. A whole flock. Soon, a whole flock of ravens and crows followed Danny wherever he flew.  Whenever he flew. And sometimes… when he kept his feet firmly planted on the ground as well.  

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

In class, Danny slumped in his seat, a bored expression on his face. The lecture went in one ear and out the other as his eyes drifted to the window. It was such a nice day outside, sunny but pleasantly cool. A crow flew by, letting out a caw before it landed on the tree, joining two more of its brethren on the highest branches. 

The corner of Danny’s lip ticked up, watching the group. The newcomer flapped its wings, fluffing out the feathers. It titled his head, its cloudy unfocused eye now becoming visible to  Danny. The bird lowered its beak to each feather as it started grooming. That bird preened for a bit before hopping over on the branch and investigating something near the tree trunk.

The movement disturbed one of the other birds, both of which had been sleeping with wings sheltering their heads from the light. One bird suddenly poked its head up, letting out an undignified squak. It hopped to its feet and started chittering unhappily at the bird that had disturbed it. 

Danny slowly smiled at the antics. Man, those birds were something. Ever since they’d started hanging out around him, he’d started to notice little quirks of behavior. The bird that had just woken up, the one he’d dubbed Mango in his head, was very feisty when bothered. The cloudy eyed one, Cotton-eyed Joe, liked to bring him candy wrappers. And the last bird, the one who was still asleep… that was Vax. And Vax loved beak rubs.

The boy sighed fondly. Earlier, he’d thought he wasn’t much of an animal person but boy, did he love watching those birds. He loved discovering their personalities. He loved picking out silly names. Sure, being followed around when he was a human was stressful; at first he’d worried about his secret. But the birds never seemed to follow him into any building. Except, well…

A soft snore could barely be made out, coming from Danny’s bookbag. One bird had taken to following him much more closely. That first young raven to approach him, a juvenile he called Maggie, liked to snuggle up in his bag. Or on his shoulder. Or in his hair. 

Danny glanced down at the bag, smirking. Yeah, having to hide said bird from his parents and teachers was annoying but… his laughter as the small beak picked through his hair, a fond smile as Maggie snuggled against his cheek. It was definitely worth it. 

The boy looked out the window again. Yes, he really did love those birds. Not only was it nice to be around animals that weren’t terrified of him but… he watched as Vax poked its head up and with a caw, flew off the branch. Really, the best part was getting to fly with them.

Sure, it was annoying and stressful when they got in the way during a ghost fight, except… he held back a fond chuckle. Skulker had learned the hard way not to mess with his birds.

There were more caws as the other two birds lifted off the branches, flying away. Danny’s core twisted at the sight. It was such a nice day… he wished he was out there, flying with his birds. He wished he was soaring through the sky, surrounded by excited calls and fluttering black feathers, instead of land-bound, stuck in this classroom.

Danny glanced at the clock, just another hour. Then he could take a short flight before getting started on homework.

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

“Hey, Danny? You wanna go to the Nasty Burger.” Tucker asked.

Well… he was gonna go for a flight. “Sure.” Danny shrugged. He’d just go later.

Sam joined the boys, the trio walking towards the doors. Danny’s backpack gently swayed with the movement. A chirp sounded from inside. The boy blinked, surprised for a moment. Then… oh, Maggie must have woken up.

Once the teens were on the steps, the half ghost took the bag off and gently placed it on the floor. Carefully, he reached inside and pulled out the bird. 

“Hey there.” Danny murmured fondly, scratching the bird right below the beak. 

Maggie hummed, pleased, before hopping onto its feet. With a flap, it moved to Danny’s shoulder, then his head. The half ghost chuckled at the action.

Careful to not dislodge the bird, he bent down to grab his bookbag. He swung the pack onto his back, addressing his friends. “Come on, guys.”

Sam and Tucker both glanced at the bird but didn’t comment, used to the new oddness. They did, however, yelp and duck when the trio were dive-bombed by a hurricane of feathers. 

Danny just laughed, grinning at the onslaught. Suddenly, two birds landed on him, one of each shoulder. “Storm, Luna.” He addressed, recognizing them. Each bird bent down, gently grabbing his shirt. The bird on his left shoulder started flapping. “Not now, guys.” He chuckled.

Another bird fluttered in front of him, cawing insistently. “I can’t go flying with you right now.” Danny waved the birds off. “Later, Poe, okay?”

The bird seemed to understand, even if it let out a sad warble and sagged in the air. Poe flew up, the two birds on Danny’s shoulders following. The half ghost tilted his head up, watching the flock rising through the air. His shoulders fell. Despite the fact he’d told them to go… his core still clenched uncomfortably, wanting to fly with them. 

“Man, they were really excited today.” Tucker commented with a chuckle.

“Yeah.” Danny said mildly.

Sam noticed the reaction, the wistful look in his eye. “What is it?”

The half ghost bit his lip, glancing at the retreating forms. “Oh umm.. It’s nothing.”

The goth raised a brow. “You sure? You’ve that look in your eye.”

Danny hesitated. Then… “I’ve just…. Been itching to fly since the beginning of last period.”

Tucker frowned, looking towards the cloud of black feathers. “Why didn’t you tell us? We can go to the Nasty Burger later.”

The other boy shook his head. “No, it’s fine.” He waved his hand, dismissing the concern. “I can alway go flying later.”

Even as he said the words, his core squeezed uncomfortably. The thought of staying grounded for the next few hours…. It made him suddenly feel almost unbearably heavy. He glanced towards the sky, one last time. He really did want to fly, just for a bit. A muscle in his back twitched oddly at the thought. 

Danny shook his head, dismissing the feeling. “Come on.” He walked faster, the movement jostling Maggie who lifted off his head and followed after the rest of the flock. The half ghost tried not to frown at the action; the bird would be back. “I bet you guys are starving, I know I am.” 

Later, there would be time to spread his metaphorical wings, for his head to get lost in the clouds. But for now… his friends were beside him, his feet planted firmly on the ground.

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

Sadly, Danny didn’t get to fly anytime soon. Just as he was leaving the Nasty Burger, his parents called. They wanted him home asap; he needed to help his dad clean out the shed. After was family dinner. Then Jazz insisted on helping him study for his math test, refusing to leave him alone until he agreed. Before he knew it, it was time to get ready for bed.

Sighing disappointedly, Danny looked out the window. The clear, star filled sky. The wind, gently rustling the leaves on the trees. And…his birds. The corner of his lip sank down, as it almost always did these days, the tree in front of his window housed a large portion of the flock. Beady black eyes peered at him through the window. 

And Danny’s core clenched, longingly. The day had been long, almost achingly so. His body felt too heavy, too earth-bounded. He wanted to be outside in the sky, flying. 

“After Mom and Dad go to bed.” The boy whispered to himself. 

He couldn’t afford to get caught missing if his parents checked on him after he was supposed to go to sleep. But… he couldn’t go another night stuck on the ground. He needed to stretch his muscles. He needed to fly.

Danny laid down on his bed, with the lights out and waiting. 11:30. 11:45. Midnight. The lights down stairs turned off, the sounds of his parents’ voices quieting. Another fifteen minutes and…

The half ghost grinned, almost leaping out of bed. His powers tried to boost him, in his excitement. His core strained to lift him off the ground but he barely lifted five inches. He was much too heavy for that as a human. So the half ghost transformed. With a burst of light, he was light as air. Effortlessly, he lifted off the ground and phased through the window. 

Instantly, the birds on the other side noticed. They chattered excitedly in greeting. On another occasion, Danny would have shushed them, worried about the commotion waking his parents. But tonight, he beamed. This was going to be amazing.

“Come on!” The ghost boy took off, rocketing through the sky.

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

Flying was Danny’s favorite power, his favorite thing about being a ghost. It always had been, even since he drifted up through his ceiling a week after the accident and realized he couldn't just levitate, he could fly. He could fly. And it was… breath-taking, freeing, incredible. 

Danny breathed deeply, awed as he took in the scene. His town, Amity Park, dimly lit and stretched out below him. The crystal stars hanging above him. It was awe-inspiring. Up here, so far away from the world, he felt free. Like he could go anywhere, do anything. For just a moment, his problems melted away, unable to touch him. He was free, just him and the sky.

The flutter of feathers pulled Danny out of his thoughts, his eyes drifting down from the stars to the air around him. The boy smiled softly. No, it wasn’t just him and the sky. 

Danny’s eyes drank in the sight. The sparkle in the birds’ eyes. Their excited calls. The way their feathers glissen in the moonlight. The bird swirled around him, loving flight just as much as he did. 

And yet it was so different from how he himself flew. As a ghost, flying was effortless. He was light as air, like an astronaut in space. He just thought about where he wanted to go and his body would move there. It was freeing, simple, completely natural. His ghostly body ignored gravity just as easily as his human body breathed.

But the birds… they have to fight against gravity. They pumped their wings, muscles straining, hearts beating wildly to lift them above the ground. They caught updrafts, moved with the wind to fly. The wind moved through their feathers, caressing their wings in a way it never did for him as a ghost. 

Danny floated, stationary while the flock flowed around him. They swooped and dived in a complicated dance. Ordered, carefully controlled chaos. Not ignoring gravity but defying it. 

His core sang at the sight. It was beautiful. So beautiful. And so different from how he flew. And yet, he got to share it with them, one of the few people who ever would. This freedom, this miracle, he got to share it with them, even if ghostly flight was different, a pale imitation even, of their flight. And yet….

The half ghost could almost imagine it, the sensation of feathers ruffled by the wind.

It was then, Danny’s back started to itch.

[stop-entropy-lie-down]

got licked by a cow today. youngish and brown. tongue like a thigh muscle, stone-textured so i kept checking my arm for upwelling blood.

he was curious and loved head-scratches. head full of slobber. didn't want the grass i'd picked for him (he knew more than me really). just a lick of a human.

(in about 4 months he will be shot in the forehead while trying to escape from a 6-foot cage, have his neck cut open so thoroughly you barely need a knife to pull the head the rest of the way off, and be turned into a selection of delicious treats, e.g. spam, sirloin, cat food)

i wonder, if i go back to the field, he will recognise me. they all seemed interested but he was the only one bold enough to stay close to the path

[jacks-obsessions]

JJBA characters' reaction to having a s/o who lives on a farm close to a small town, because I can.

Rohan

He's really excited to see it

The inspiration is endless

He is a bit bothered with your home being just outside of a town of barely 2,000

He is about to burst because he can't get things drawn fast enough

His favorites are the barn, the horses, and the gardens

He is more than willing to help out around the farm, no better way to get inspired then to get your hands dirty

Yes he does participate in hunting season

Okuyasu

He is immediately in love with your dogs and cats

Is fascinated with the dynamic between the chickens and rabbits

Is tickled pink when he gets to collect the eggs

Finds it funny when the cattle get in the feed bunk

Loves the horses and loves riding them along with wagon rides

Eats the hard corn off the cob

Doesn't care to much for hunting season

Narancia

He's practically vibrating by the time he's in the car

It's only because of Fugo that he knows brown cows don't produce chocolate milk

Really really loves the cows and loves graining them

Shows up in a full on cowboy costume

Is in love with your rabbits

Very intimidated by the draft horses

This guy uses Aerosmith when you take him out to hunt

Mista

He’s nervous because of the Pistols

The Pistols end up eating the grain, chicken food, rabbit food, and whatever they can get out of the garden

Is terrified of your flemish giant because it could definitely beat him up

Loves wagon rides and watching the cattle

Actually likes gardening alot

Likes to go hunting with you, and the Pistols like to eat what you get (only person to hunt with a six shooter)

Bruno

Finds it to be very quaint

He's very interested because of his upbringing as a fisherman

Really likes the chickens and rabbits but he also really likes the horses

Finds gardening to be very relaxing

Loves seeing the cattle running around and having a good time same goes for the horses

Likes hunting with you and this includes fishing (he sees it as bonding time)

Risotto

Finds it to be a nice get away

Big beefy man, very, very good at helping with farm work

Has no problem helping out with working cattle

Is in love with the draft horses (big horse for a big man)

And your flemish giant

He is even more thrilled when he gets to not only ride the horses but the wagon as well

Yes he uses Metallica for camouflage (he enjoys bow hunting because it's more of a workout)