#no because WHERE is his squirrel

[fdrsamericanflagduckfloaty]

?????

so i was looking at the NATM2 poster because why not and i just realized:

they got Jedediah on a horse, which, okay, cool, love that for him, but then they have Octavius just standing really... stiffly? without his then-new canonical pet squirrel? and now i'm wondering why they gave Jedediah his horse but not Octavius his beloved pet squirrel.

Give Octavius his god damn squirrel.

[stewiefanumtax]

i decided to draw something cause i just got out of a month long art block

i love ezekiel hes so silly i am the real ezekiel this is real true and not clickbait

[invinciblerodent]

Prayer of an unknown cleric

"Lord of Battles, Foehammer, protect me in the clash to come. Let my blade ring true, and my faith not falter. Let the tides of war turn in our favor, or let me fall with honor in Your righteous fire. Guide my soul to hold strong, and my arm to strike true, and allow Your sacred, impartial wisdom to sustain me so that I might guide us to Your blessed victory.

But.... in Your honor and glory, please... through Your divine will... please hear my fitful prayer.

Foehammer, at this troubled hour, hear that I beg of You, with the true and utmost devotion of a heart afire: I beg of You to heal and to keep, to protect that who is more dear than my own self- please, Tempus, my Lord of Fire and Steel, if he is to fall, then [multiple words scratched out] if he is to fall, then let my life be claimed in place of his, for he at holy hands has suff-- [large scribble] Just this once, please grant him Your divine presence. Keep his heart and hand strong, his mind sharp and magic mighty, and guide him to safety. Please, Foehammer, my Lord of War, let sword not touch sorcery on this day, and if it is blood that You desire, then I beg of You to take it from my devout heart sung in steel and psalm, from my sword forged in the crucible of combat, my faithful spirit and its complete devotion, and allow, in Your grace, for my beloved to live. And if life-- [large, furious scribble] if life is to be lost, if blood is to be spilled, let me exchange mine for his, have my life for it is already beholden to You, and let the trade be just, let it be fair, and let it be enough.

I request this of You as Your devout follower, as but Your most humble servant and sword- I beg of You to keep him, to save him; and if Your might is to hunger, to let Your appetite be whet on my skin, and Your teeth and blade be sated on my flesh, for I am Your creation.

Just... please, fuck, just... please let him live. Gods, please just let him survive this.

- an ink-stained prayer penned by a Baldurian war-priest on the eve of a great battle, 1492 DR. Divine magic shimmers in the parchment.

(Item received: Scroll of Warding Bond)

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

The little buddy effect: Defined as when you (usually a version of sonic or a character made to directly parallel Sonic) have a short best friend you cherish dearly. Anyone affected by the little buddy effect has the tendency to take to others of little buddy material or who remind them of their own little buddy very quickly. While generally (although not 100% of the time) the universe of Sonic the Hedgehog mandates each person affected by the little buddy effect gets to keep only one little buddy, this does not stop this person from trying. While all relationships come and go, the one between the affected and their little buddy is one to outlast them all (as long as the little buddy is properly cherished of course).

Another name for the "little buddy effect" is "the Tails effect.

Post brought to you by...

Mightray??

Sorry, I'm reading Archie Sonic and it's like. So far in every Sonic media, none of the Sonics affected by the little buddy effect recognize the eternal bliss you may receive by cherishing the little buddy and giving them lil kisses (aka pursing at least a not completely platonic but also not famial relationship). In fact, sometimes they neglect the little buddy to pursue romance with a girl (that ultimately doesn't work out).

Meanwhile Mighty over here is like L + I'll never leave Ray behind again + get gud + no matter what we'll adventure together forever + Ratio

Congrats for being the only one to figure out the little buddy effect and cherishing the little buddy, Mighty😂😂

[cicadaknight]

astarion origin playthrough, i've somehow made it to the goblin camp without anyone knowing he's a vamp?

not gonna lie, i'm kinda baffled there seems to only be one scene where you're forced to consider biting your companions? and there's no prompting from the narrator/dialogue to bite people or resist your hunger? in the only origin cutscene i've had, i chose to go after an animal instead of my party because it was literally the first night and it just never got brought up again?

i'm torn between trying to see how long i can keep it a secret vs. wanting to see if i'll get more content and dialogue after confessing.

[st4rrych111]

core childhood memory is 11 year old me reading the fire ascending and being so genuinely horrified but also totally lost because my child mind was not made for understanding timelines and other dimensions and angels and evil thought beings and dragon tears and alternate universes to that level and in the end the whole world was rewritten into fiction where all the characters were just actors and authors and i vividly remember laying in bed finishing the book and closing it thinking oh my god wow

[sorrellegiance]

THE TECH INTERACTIVE

[quilleth]

Going to start charging the squirrel(s?) In the walls rent. Like we have one big storm and suddenly they've decided trees aren't good enough for them

[princekirijo]

🐰 ehehe :3c

Thank you Misty 🥺🥺 I'm glad most people find me chill eheh

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Hot take maybe but I think Bertie would be FAR more likely to survive the first two months of Dracula than Jeeves would be. Bertie has a healthy sense of self-preservation. Jeeves consistently underestimates how dangerous a situation might get (Steeple Bumpleigh, the club book) because he’s overconfident about his level of control over any given situation. He'd handle Dracula masterfully if they faced off in England, but on Dracula's home turf? Much more doubtful.

I realize this might be a tough sell, so I will explain further (or it's not a tough sell, and I'm going to explain further because I want to). (criteria taken from @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula) Without further ado.

Would Jeeves and Wooster survive Castle Dracula?

Jeeves

Jeeves' survival will depend on how long Dracula finds him more entertaining than irritating. On that basis, I don't think he's long for this world. On the one hand, he has a huge wealth of knowledge about English society and culture that he can recite perfectly from memory. That should buy him at least a little time with noted teaboo Dracula.

On the other hand, he would be absolutely no fun as a vampire plaything. Jeeves cannot be got. Sneaking up on him while he's shaving will yield zero reaction (though that's at least good for his short-term survival--given that, although he DID take the crucifix from the old woman out of politeness, he certainly isn't going to wear it. The rules of fashion don't go out the window just because you're in a spooky castle). Then, although managing the whims of rich jerks is not an insignificant part of a valet's job, Jeeves usually does this by bending his employers to his will. Dracula is not the sort of employer this will work on. It'll just add insult to injury when on top of being impossible to scare, NOW Jeeves is telling Dracula that his favorite cloak is several centuries out of fashion and he's not allowed to wear it anymore.

Jeeves will 100% go exploring in the areas he was told not to go-- though to be fair, he MIGHT actually get away with this, what with his superpower of appearing in rooms without being seen or heard. Said superpower might save him from the brides as well (though this is by no means guaranteed). Since I find it doubtful that Dracula would come to rescue his annoying ass, not being noticed is his best defense.

There are a couple other things working in Jeeves's favor; the question is just whether they'll be enough to save him.

He DOES know shorthand, and could try to send coded letters. He might even have the foresight to squirrel away some extra stationary where Dracula can't find it. But could he get them posted? Would it even do him any good?

He certainly has enough cultural literacy to figure out what his new boss is pretty quickly. If he didn't chuck the crucifix out the carriage window, he might start carrying it around in his pocket.

Psychology of the individual, sure, but the individual in question is a 400-year-old vampire who lives in an isolated castle in a foreign country and is regarded as a terrifying mythological figure in the surrounding villages. Jeeves has never come up against anything this alien before, he's cut off from his normal resources, and opportunities to play people against each other are limited.

He probably has enough upper body strength from all that shrimping and fishing to climb the wall, so he COULD escape if he wanted to, if he survived long enough. It's just, again, that overconfidence, and also Dracula has a vast library full of rare old books that are entirely at his disposal. He's keeping his eyes and ears alert for potential escape strategies, of course, but I don't see him being as desperate to get out as Jonathan was.

There are just a lot of "depends on"s here, and I'm not convinced that luck would shake out in Jeeves's favor, all things considered.

Bertie

Bertie is so perfect for the job of Castle Dracula Prisoner it's like it was made for him. Think about it. Being held against his will in big manor houses comes more naturally to him than breathing. He's afraid of things that are scary. A lifetime of dealing with Aunt Agatha has made him the world's preeminent expert in "curl[ing] up in a ball in the hope that a meek subservience [will] enable [him] to get off lightly." He will NEVER go exploring in places he's been warned away from if nobody is forcing him to (Rev. Aubrey Upjohn's office notwithstanding. There were biscuits in there). He's both fun to talk to and easy to toy with (and extremely English). A+ prisoner. Dracula adores him.

In my opinion, Bertie is at Castle Dracula either because Aunt Agatha got some wires seriously crossed and thinks he’s going to meet an eligible potential bride (I mean, there are certainly brides there), or because Dracula has something Aunt Dahlia wants him to steal (far less likely, given that one of Dracula’s THINGS is famously not owning anything silver). Either way, he's shown himself entirely willing and able to escape down drainpipes if a sitch gets too scaly.

He DOES take the crucifix, and DOES wear it (which is what will save him during the shaving scene, because you KNOW he's going to jump a foot and cut himself like the dickens). He's read enough supernatural goosefleshers to be genre savvy about terrified old women cryptically pushing crucifixes into one's hands. I also think his sunny disposish endeared him to the villagers, and they were particularly vehement about urging him not to go. He doesn't speak German or Romanian, but he's empathetic enough to recognize Pure Terror. So by the time he actually gets to the castle, his imagination is already running wild and he's plenty aware that he is in imminent danger.

I think the biggest risk to Bertie will be the brides; whether or not he's susceptible to trances, if he thinks they're trying to marry him, it's against the code of the Woosters to turn them down. But that only becomes an issue if he comes face to face with them, which, luckily, I think is unlikely on account of the aforementioned "won't go exploring" (and if he did, Dracula would definitely rescue him).

I'm inclined to say due to his drainpipe-escape habits that he WOULD be able to climb the wall and MAY attempt to sneak into Dracula's room to look for the keys if his desperation grows to outweigh his fear. Whether he does or not, though, he does NOT have the stomach to attempt shovel murder, and therefore won't get magic brain fever, and may very well simply walk out the front doors when the people come to take the boxes away. OR he climbs his way out like Jonathan did. Either way.

When Bertie tells this story at the Drones later, Tuppy will say that no doubt it's been greatly exaggerated and all that probably happened was that he spent a couple months in an oldish house entertaining a weird loner.

[zooophagous]

I'm gonna be contrarian here for a minute and rant about "cats aren't even good pest control."

Which, one study that found cats don't do well against rats is not the be all end all of reality. A cat may not go after Norway rats, which are large and aggressive, no. An adult male wild Norway rat is large enough to give almost any cat a run for its money.

But Norway rats aren't the only thing that exist and get into houses and barns. It is very cold where I live, and while I see mice and packrats and voles, I have never once seen a wild RAT. Wild RATS don't get into my garage. Deer mice do. Bushy tailed pack rats do.

And you know what fixed it?

My cat. He's not even an outdoor cat. He's 100% indoors, or in the garage but only with the door closed so he can't leave.

He single handedly removed my packrat problem. I didn't need to resort to poisons and while I did set traps, none of them had even half of his success rate. Cats were domesticated primarily because of how good they are at catching small rodents. Their success knocked other animals such as trained ferrets off the popular spot for the task. Claiming a cat is useless as pest control is just plain not true.

Cats are decent pest control WITHIN CERTAIN PARAMETERS. They're good for certain types of small pest, and cats need ro be CONTAINED. Much like poisons, you can't just throw cats around willy nilly because they'll kill a shitload of non target animals.

A barn or shop cat is a good option for long term mouse control *if* it is actually confined to that barn or shop and not free to just leave. A semi feral cat that lives in a large warehouse and is vaccinated and desexed and vetted and kills whatever tiny pests get in to chew on stuff is the best case scenario for an adopted feral.

What I do NOT get however, is the insistence that terriers are better and you should just get one of those.

A dog is not an easy animal to keep and nor is it one you should go purchase because you want long term pest control in your barn. If you want a pest control solution call an externinator. If you want a dog that's intelligent and driven and needs dedicated training and care and you're happy to put in the energy to actually focus its chaotic energy into something useful then go get a ratting terrier.

These little dogs do not fill the same niche as a barn cat and their care is quite a bit more intense in general especially if the dog is going to be a house pet as well as a worker. They're intense and destructive and can and will pick fights, often fatal fights, with other animals. Stop telling people to go get one when all they need is to get some squirrels out of a shed. Buying a dog and buying pest control are not the same thing.

You could *hire* a ratter to do a sweep, but unless you're also removing the conditions that made your property popular with rats to begin with you're going to have to keep bringing them back.

The kind of people who leave feral cats outside to roam and breed freely are the last fucking people who have any business keeping a working line terrier.

[invinciblerodent]

you know what, actually, he can fuck all the way off with this look

he just can't look at her like that, that's not allowed

pull yourself together, boy, you have a bitch reputation to uphold!!!!!!! you can't look at her like she hung the stars in the sky lest she (rightfully) thinks you as smitten as you are!!!!!!!!!

[ceilidho]

prompt: reader is hired as a live in house cleaner because ghost is always away and he only comes back on leave and he insists she stay in the guest room. Over time he increasingly acts like she’s his live in girlfriend or something. Very confusing for reader lmao.

-

The job comes at the exact right time. 

The way you stumble onto your new job is a bit dicey, if you’re being honest. You’ve been meaning to get out of the waitressing life for a while—the tips are shit and the number of times that you’ve had your backside pinched has slowly but steadily climbed into the double digits. You just haven’t had direction; somewhere to go. 

Your savior comes in the form of a six foot plus soldier. Oh, he doesn’t tell you that, but his body language speaks for itself. 

At first, even the sight of him makes your belly clench and palms sweat like when you watch rock climbing documentaries or parkour videos online (all moist and clammy and you have to wipe them on your jeans before shaking his hand). He’s a one-time customer at your little roadside diner that gradually becomes a repeat offender. 

He comes at odd times, sometimes disappearing for a month or two before he’s back to sitting in the booth at the back of the diner with his back against the wall. You smile shakily when you pour him coffee after coffee. He never eats. Always sits in the same booth, dressed in the same black hoodie that does nothing to hide the sheer size of him and a black surgical mask that he never removes. He has a sixth sense for when you’re watching him from behind the counter, waiting for him to take a sip.

You never do catch a glimpse of his face. Not completely anyway. You know him only by the faint smell of gunpowder and metal that clings to him like a second skin, and the feeling of his calloused hand against yours. 

Like ice slowly chipping off a glacier that one day cracks, a huge chunk splintering off and crashing into the sea, you know nothing about him until you’re suddenly in his house. Simon, he tells you, and the sound of his name awakens something in you. He needs a housekeeper and you need a reason to leave. 

You quit the diner; barely even put in a week’s notice. 

The day you drive up the long beaten road up to his property, a cabin deep in the English countryside, clear blue skies follow you. Clouds crisp, delicate even. Simon takes you through the house, showing you to the guest room where you’ll be staying while he’s away. He never directly confirms your suspicions, but the faint tightness around his eyes when he mentions his job tells you all you need to know. No wonder he needs someone to keep the house in order. Never around to do it himself.

Then he’s gone, swift as a ghost. You wake up in the guest room to a hastily scrawled note on your bedside table and a faint feeling of loss. 

You scrub tiles and dust the top bit of the fan that everyone always misses; you mow the lawn, clean the gutters, and sit under the shade of a poplar tree with a glass of lemonade in the early evenings. If you look up into the tree, you’ll see spiders and squirrel nests. It’s almost therapeutic. 

Weeks pass at a time. Simon reemerges like clear skies between periods of rain. Sometimes even before you wake up, you can feel the change like lighting sizzling in the air, crackling hot under your fingertips and then stumbling into the kitchen to find him leaning against the counter, coffee already brewing. You blush into an apology that he waves off.

Good soldier. Better boss. 

You fall into a routine, something of a cadence that is only interrupted by Simon’s hands on your hips when he moves you out of the way to grab a mug from the top shelf. His finger brushing over the curve of your cheekbone to wipe away flour smudged on your cheek. Then he’s gone again, passing through like a ghost. 

Perhaps he’s a more tactile man than you originally assumed. Something about the way he held himself in those first few weeks in the diner suggested otherwise, the way he seemed to radiate a latent hostility. Do not get close. You read this in the general slope of his eyebrows and the scars across his muscled forearms up until he reaches out to touch you, growing more and more comfortable with you around.

“You alright, love?” said into your ear on a warm night when Simon materializes onto the couch beside you, practically out of thin air. Your heart almost bursts in your chest. 

When you turn, he’s as beautiful as ever, honey burnt eyes staring out from behind a balaclava this time. Still dresses in his standard issue tactical pants, the faint smear of grime and gore around the ankles. There’s a lump in your throat when you smile. 

He smells richer now. Deeper, like the forest floor. Like crawling through mud and spider webs and a thick, cloying miasma of desperation. 

“Sorry—I didn’t know you’d be back,” you apologize, going to rise up to your feet. It feels wrong to commandeer his house when he’s on leave, even though you live here too.

A heavy hand on your shoulder pulls you down, settling you to his side. “Off your feet now—there you go, atta girl. No sense getting up; show’s not even done.” 

He angles you back to face the TV and tugs you into his lap almost effortlessly. You do not look back, even when you feel him slip the balaclava off, hot breath fanning over your neck. Not even when fingers play over the thin line of skin where your shirt rides up. You blink like your eyes are gummy and try not to shudder when his thumb dips underneath your shirt.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Ooh I got something for you.

Cave Danny leaves the house, and comes back with a small child. He of course will be taking the child with him when he leaves, the child attacked him and tried to steal his food, so he must WANT to come with Danny. Stop laughing Jason.

I'll do you one better.

So this takes place before Danny goes on his solo trip to the mall and KOs the Joker.

Cave!boy Danny isn't allowed near humans or to leave the manor- to keep the cover story for his dimension traveling- but he is permitted to take walks on Wayne's property.

So Bruce opens the door to tell Danny that dinner is ready, and Bruce is stunned to see him sitting in the middle of the room surrounded by raccoons, birds, squirrels, and some rabbits.

Danny looks up at Bruce with a bright sparkling smile "Aren't they lovely!?"

The rest of the Bats look at Damian and respond, "Huh.

They never knew Bruce liked animals as a kid as much as Damian. Alfred laughs, saying that he used to chase out rats all the time because young Bruce kept scooping them up in the streets and bringing them home.

"Where are the bats?" Steph asks looking at the menagerie that Brucie snuck in. He got them from the property so she suprise he didn't grab some from the caves.

"No. Bats are evil" Brucie says with narrow eyes. "They remind me of tiny vampires. Fruitloop is a vampire"

Jason suddenly cracks up "I forgot Bruce is scared of Bats! That's why he dressed up as bat-man! To be fear!"

Dick laughs alongside him, voice going low and inheriting a growl " I am the night. I am the vengeance. I am the greatest horror to a fully grown man- a bat!"

Alfred laughs with the family until he sees one of the raccoons bite Brucie and all but launches himself at him with a rabies shot. "BLOODY HELL NOT AGAIN!"

[kennahjune]

HEAR ME OUT?? Please—

I LOVE love LOve when like, in fics, Steve has this really weird talent or interest that nobody knows about or like nobody expects but then oddly enough it sort of fits him.

And just like— it opens up so much possibility for character projection.

My favorite is writer Steve but I’ve been growing increasingly obsessed with Steve who’s hyper fixation is snakes.

The image in my head is like— everyone’s hanging out at the trailer park for one reason or another, and they hear Robin fucking /screech/.

Everyone’s on their feet in a split second, worry and confusion and deep dread forcing the way into the forefront of their minds.

Turns out: it was a snake. A really small one at that.

Eddie and Wayne offer to take it and dispose of it, the two of them having done this various other times with the other snakes people find in the trailer park.

But Steve pushes to the front of the group yelling and scolding.

“No absolutely not!”

Eddie shares a look with Nancy, both chalking it up to Steve’s hero complex acting up and him trying to protect them from the potentially dangerous critter.

“Look, Stevie—“

“You are not going to kill that little sweetheart!”

Eddie paused, shared a confused furrow of brows with Nancy and Robin, and turned to face Steve fully.

“Stevie, baby, that’s a snake.”

Steve stood with his hands on his hips, a determined glint in his eye, and nodded. “No I thought it was a squirrel.”

Eddie sighed loudly. “Then what do we do with it?”

“Well not fucking kill it for starters! It’s harmless. Aren’t you baby?”

Eddie and everyone else watched Steve step up to the snake that was hanging from the trailer’s side door. “Um, Steve what’re you doing?”

Steve ignored them completely and simply plucked the snake from its place on the door. From somewhere beside Eddie Robin squeaked in horror and Will groaned while Lucas gave a violent shudder.

“Such a small baby aren’t ya?” Steve cooed at the little snake wrapped around his hand.

“Steve— that’s a snake,” Nancy said warily, eyeing said snake like it killed her mother. “A potentially dangerous snake.”

Steve scoffed while the snake lifted the front of its body to peer at him. “She’s not dangerous, she’s a goddamn rat snake. They’re harmless.”

Just as he said it, the snake turned its head and not his finger. Where Steve didn’t even blink, everyone else freaked.

Eddie and Robin rushed over to him, Eddie immediately taking a look at his hand but keeping his hands away from the snake. Robin kept her distance but rambled about rabies or whatever.

Steve huffed and laughed quietly. “Guys, seriously. It’s a rat snake, they’re completely and utterly harmless to humans. They have such a small amount of venom it doesn’t bother humans. And besides, this little baby’s so small she couldn’t even break the skin.”

He was right, there was no sign of breakage or even redness on Steve’s hand where he was bitten.

Eddie looked at his boyfriend a little in awe and even more in love.

Jesus Christ.

Dustin and Mike walked slowly over to Steve, each asking to hold the snake.

Steve held it out gently, Dustin taking it first and holding it delicately in his hands. When he passed it over to Mike, the snake wrapped itself around his hands and a bit up his arms. Eddie was a little in shock at the giggle the younger Wheeler let out.

Dustin, Mike and Steve sat on the trailer’s side steps and held the snake together, going back and forth about random animal topics that Eddie couldn’t be bothered to remember.

When he asked later, Will and Lucas were delighted to explain that the entire reason Dustin was allowed to join The Party was because in 4th grade he brought Mike a frog he found. Lucas explained that Mike and Dustin had both gone through and extensive reptile and amphibian phase in elementary school and still held onto some of that obsession.

From then on, whenever anyone in the trailer park found any form of snake or rodent that they wanted gone, they called Steve.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Satyr König who is always chasing and herding poor nymph!reader and the other pretty nymph ladies around the shallow water where they played and giggled until this giamt horny beast appeared with his leaking cock and wanted to mate with them >:(

But honestly König doesn't care anymore, he wants to breed with the pretty nymphs and if that means getting overstimulated with how much you and the other girls are riding him then he'll happily accept such 'punishment'! He's awfull! But his balls are full and heavy and he's very virile so it's so big deal at all♡

Satyr!König is an absolute pervert, a lustful rural god as they say. Of course he's watching naked, unsuspecting nymphs playing in the water, chasing each other in the middle of a glade!

CW: Exhibitionism & masturbation. König getting frustrated with a bunch of nymphs because no one wants to mate with him.

They haven't seen him yet, slowly stroking his cock behind a tree. Grinding his hips against his hand, imitating thrusting inside a woman even if it's just his large, hard fist he's fucking here, their giggles make his tip wet as they splash water all over themselves. Sweet, soft bodies glisten in the sun, dozens of nipples perk up from the cold water, these nymphs are making his cock leak all over the ground :(

It's their fault for being so cute; he really has no choice but to start a little chase. First, he tries to walk into the sunny view, cock hard and very presentable, but to his great fury, the nymphs just scream and scatter like dandelion seeds in the wind.

He tries to catch them, even just one of them, to bully with his cock, but they start to play with him when they notice they're faster than a clumsy old faun. He almost snatches one by the waist, but the nymph turns into a young willow and he finds himself only humping against the soft bark of a tree.

Hearing a chime of giggles all around him, his cock gives another angry pull. They're laughing at him stumbling around like a centaur, or worse yet, they're laughing at his cock that's twitching and leaking between his hairy thighs, deprived of a woman's warmth :(

He's being played like a fool, and he throws his head back in the middle of the glen and roars, scaring away birds and squirrels with a mighty, furious bellow.

He just wanted to give them his seed, maybe tickle them with his tongue, but if they're going to make fun of him like this, he'll show them what they're missing... He'll show them what happens when you play cat and mouse with a horny god.

Catching his throbbing cock in an angry fist, he starts to stroke himself and play with his balls, the hairiest and heaviest part of all fauns. Knows that the dumb little creatures are watching with wide eyes and dropped jaws even if their stupid giggles have stopped.

The forest has fallen silent, and that's exactly what he wants. There's no bright laughter anymore, only fascinated, soft whispering all around him as he groans and moans, the thick release not far away as he imagines himself fucking a pretty nymph who's hungry and desperate for his cock. If no one's going to take up on this thick, hairy offer, he's going to ruin their day and cover their little nymph glade with seed...