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hxney-lemcn · 8 months ago

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Not Allowed — Lorsan (AFK Journey/Arena) x gn! reader

summary: you met a strange wilder and found yourself falling for your fantasy. What seemed like a dream had become a distant memory, but Lorsan thought of it as anything but.

tw: uhhhh lovesick fools making stupid decisions

a/n: I kinda went off on this one. Ending kinda sucks, sorry.

wc: 2.7k

Master List

It has been a fairly normal day for you. You woke up before the crack of dawn, barely taking care of yourself before you made your way outside. It was a crisp autumn morning just like any other which helped you wake up slightly. You dragged yourself over to the chicken coop after picking up your basket. The hens were barely awake, all the easier to grab their eggs. After refilling their water and food, you put the eggs safely away in your kitchen. Then you made your way over to your dairy cows. The nice thing about cows was that you didn’t have to feed them, the bad part was giving them water. You started the horrendous trek of taking your metal bucket, going over to the water pump, filling the bucket, carrying it over to the water trough, and repeating the cycle.

After all the animals were taken care of, you made your way back to your house to fully take care of yourself. I mean your animals were fed, time to feed yourself. The sun was shining brightly now, the sound of your animals filling the silence. It was a comforting atmosphere, something you wouldn’t trade for the world. You decided to cook a few of the eggs, after all, it's best to have them fresh and you had the freshest. It was when you made your way back to milk your cows had your day changed.

“Oh boy!” You heard an energetic voice call out. “I wonder if there’s any food.” Fully opening your front door, you watched as a man with bunny ears looked around your farm. At first glance you did find him cute, but that doesn’t mean he can just go stealing your hard work.

“Excuse me!” You called out, walking over to him. “Do you need food?” The man paused, quickly turning around, he looked as if you had caught him taking a cookie from the cookie jar.

“Oh, uhm, you see I’ve been traveling a great distance and I haven’t had much to eat,” He explained, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

The sheepish look on his face had quickly calmed you down, and you felt yourself sympathizing with him, “I can make you something if you’d like.”

“Really?” He asked, perking up.

“Yeah,” You smiled back. “As long as I can get your name first.” You both introduced yourselves to each other, and you made him a salad at his request (thankfully you still had some lettuce and vegetables). As he ate, Lorsan, as you learned, had talked of his adventures and all he had learned. You, a mere farmer, were quite intrigued by his tales. You rarely left the farm as you sold your products to Rowan who would come to you. The only time you left was to go to the local village to buy items you were running low on once a week. So Lorsan’s tales were quite fascinating.

“I have to finish my chores now,” You spoke up after Lorsan finished his food.

“I can help,” He replied, ears twitching slightly. “To thank you for your kindness.”

“Do you know how to milk a cow?” You asked, head tilting to the side.

“Well…no,” Lorsan responded sheepishly, then a bright smile took over his face. “But I’m a quick learner!”

“I don’t see why not,” You smiled back. His enthusiasm was contagious. You were quickly proven that you should not have trusted him so easily.

“Ah! Careful!” You exclaimed, quickly grasping Lorsan’s wrists to stop him from squeezing too hard. “You’re gonna hurt her if you squeeze like that. You gotta be firm but gentle. Like this.” You moved your hands to cover his and showed him the right amount of pressure.

“I-I see,” Lorsan stuttered slightly, you missed the way his cheeks turned a light pink. He proceeded to follow your directions after you stepped back and you smiled proudly at how well he was doing now. You had to teach Lorsan how to do some basic chores, but with him by your side, you found yourself enjoying the daily routine that started to feel boring. By the time you both finished, the sun was starting to set.

Feeling a bit of concern (and a bit of selfishness), you asked Lorsan if he wanted to stay for the night. Once again, he was a bit astounded at how kind you had been to him so far. Not to say that people from other villages were unkind, it’s just they were more hesitant to help, and none of them had gone as far as you had. Yes, he had helped you with your chores, but it didn’t feel like much of a chore as you did it together, making jokes together. In fact, Lorsan found himself dreading the day coming to an end. He couldn’t waste any time in just one spot, as the longer he took to find someone to help his people, the more danger they may find themselves in.

Normally, Lorsan would fool around, he was notorious for his mischievousness back in the dark forest (much to his dismay), but he couldn’t make light of his people’s situation. He had no idea how bad the corruption had gotten, and he feared that by the time he got help it would be too late. It had already been two years since he left after all. But his naive personality still poked through.

He agreed to your invitation to stay the night as it wouldn’t hurt to get rest in a proper bed. He messed with the salad you made him, green eyes continuing to glance up at you every so often. The conversation had come to a lull as you started to consume your stew. Lorsan felt conflicted, he greatly enjoyed your presence, even if you both had only known each other for a short period of time. He didn’t want to leave so soon, he enjoyed how easily he was able to make you laugh, the look of awe in your eyes as he mentioned his abilities as a Windwhisperers, and your gentle touch as you corrected him.

His heart beat faster at the memory. Lorsan thought he was coming down with something. It was weird, he hadn’t felt this strongly towards someone before, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. It kept gnawing at him, a part of him wanted to stay, even if it was for just a bit longer, but his guilty conscience weighed more heavily.

“I wish you could join me,” Lorsan spoke, eyes falling onto a tomato amidst the leafy greens.

You paused, but didn’t think too much of what he said, “That would be nice. Your travels sound quite fun when you’re not being chased off.” You laughed lightly at the teasing remark, but quickly stopped when Lorsan didn’t laugh with you.

Your eyes scanned his face. His emerald eyes were down cast, his lips tugged slightly downwards. He used his fork to push around his food, ears slightly droopy. You then realized he was being 100% serious and you felt your heart jump. The scenario reminded you of a cheesy scene in a romantic novel you managed to read in your sparse free time.

“You would love the dark forest,” Lorsan continued, now twirling his fork. “I think you would get along well with Lyca.”

You fiddled with your napkin, suddenly feeling a heavy weight on your shoulders. He does understand your position, right? You are the sole owner of this farm, you have a life, you have animals and people that depend on you. There was no way you could just drop everything on a whim because you met a cute wilder who wanted you to become his companion on his journey. But you were also young, and the thought of being tied down to one spot, never truly seeing the world, also weighed down on you. It was easier to forget about your wish to explore as you lose yourself in your chores, lose yourself in books and lose yourself in your trade. Lorsan had brought that longing back to the forefront, the want to explore, the need to see sites that laid only in your wildest dreams.

It was all too conflicting for you.

“...you know I can’t leave,” You muttered, eyes downcast. “This is my home.”

“I know,” Lorsan responded despondently. A pregnant pause followed, and you found yourself wanting to mend whatever had just broken.

“Come back,” You stated, leaving no room for debate. Lorsan finally lifted his gaze to meet yours. “When you find whoever you need to, when you fix your land, come back.”

Lorsan felt his mind race. He hadn’t thought of coming back, he didn’t need to…not before at least. Would he even be able to come back? His position was high ranking, and he would be needed a lot more once he returned…but he also wanted to see you again. His eyes soaked in the determination in your gaze, how could he deny someone he found so breathtaking?

“Okay,” He agreed, a small bittersweet smile overtaking him. “But only if you consider one of us going with the other.”

You felt your face warm, that was such a drastic decision, but you supposed you had time to think it over. Yet you still wanted to tease him slightly.

“Are you asking me to run away with you?” You teased, hiding your smile behind your hand. “We’ve only known each other for a day.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it,” Lorsan stubbornly replied back, trying to hide how warm his face felt. You were right, after all. What business did he have asking you to leave everything behind for him? Because he felt strangely for you? He hardly counted that as a reason, but he still held hope, heart fluttering at the thought of you by his side.

“Too bad there wasn’t a way we could stay in contact,” You sighed, standing up to clean the table.

Lorsan’s ear twitched, eyes widening at his brilliant plan, of course it would take a bit of a toll on him, but for you, it was worth it, “I could contact you through the wind! You’ll just have to keep an ear out for my messages.”

Your eyes also widened, not having expected such a response, “I would be able to hear it?”

“You should,” Lorsan nodded excitedly, ears bouncing with the movements. “I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been pretty good at all this Windwhisperer business from a young age.”

“Then I’ll look forward to the wind.”

That had been over a year ago. The time between Lorsan updating you had grown far and few in between. Your naiveness has dissipated. It was a wonderful fantasy while it lasted, but there were too many flaws in the plan. No matter what way you thought, a problem arose. There was no way you could sell your farm or animals, there was no way you could drop everything just for him. It was too extravagant an ask. And Lorsan couldn’t drop everything for you either. Yes, he may have always dreamed of the world beyond the dark forest, but he had a duty that held him back. That didn’t stop his chest from aching every time he was reminded of you. Farm animals were common on his journey, and he remembered how sweetly you smiled at him as you showed him your chickens. How he longed to stay with you. He didn’t want to be tied down, but was it really being tied down if you were by his side?

While you had given up, Lorsan was still pursuing his dream. He had finally managed to find someone that could dispel the corruption. Not to mention it was thee Merlin. He didn’t waste any time getting them on the first ship to the dark forest. It took more time than he’d like to clear everything. He had met his sister and old friends, but a part of him still felt like he was missing. He loved his people, he really did, but he would constantly strain his ears, listening to your soothing humming that the wind mercifully sent his way.

When everything was said and done, his Master Arden had noticed the gray haired man’s despondency. Lorsan had been given many tasks, not allowing him a moment’s respite. Not even being able to think of coming back to you like he had promised. That familiar feeling of the trees closing in on him returned. The comfort of the forest had become a prison once more.

“What’s troubling you,” Arden asked his pupil, wanting to alleviate his worries.

Lorsan snapped out of his stupor, he had found himself trying to listen for you once more. “I met someone,” Lorsan explained, knowing better than trying to hide from his mentor. “But my duty lies here, in the dark forest.”

“A good whisperer should listen to not only the wind, but also to his own heart,” Arden responded wisely. “Need not worry about us, as our problems have been resolved.” Lorsan felt his breath hitch, hope overtaking him once more.

…

It has been a normal day for you. Waking up before the crack of dawn, barely taking care of yourself before going to the chicken coop. You put the eggs in your basket, the movements being nearly autonomous. Your days blended together, repeating the same motions over and over. The wind had become a low whistle like it had before, no longer carrying the words you once searched for. Your days have dulled once more. You were just a mere farmer after all.

“I wonder if there’s any food.”

You paused, not sure if you were just hearing things. If your monotonous days had finally broken you and you were hallucinating a reality that had once been real. Your head turned, albeit hesitantly, and your eyes widened at the familiar head of gray hair, green eyes, and bunny ears. You could never forget such a pretty face, nor the sheepish look that rested across it.

“You’re back,” You stated, slight awe in your tone. You hadn’t really thought he’d ever come back.

“Of course I’m back,” Lorsan scoffed, crossing his arms. “I did promise you, didn’t I?” Your eyes soaked in his figure, noting the backpack that he carried and the slight grin on his lips.

“It’s just been awhile,” You replied, rubbing your arm nervously. “I thought you forgot.”

Lorsan’s jaw fell slack (somewhat comically might I add), “How could I ever forget someone like you!” You felt your heart jump. That feeling you thought you’d gotten over returned like nothing had ever happened, like you both hadn’t been separated for years.

Feeling a bit insecure, you couldn’t help but bring up what weighed on you, “You stopped sending messages.”

His ears drooped slightly in response, “I’m sorry about that. It takes a lot of energy for me to do that, and when I found someone that could help, I wanted them to help as quickly as possible so I could come back.” You truly felt silly. Of course he was busy, he was a hero after all.

“It’s alright,” You smiled, the ache wasn’t fully gone, but you understand. “You’re here now, aren’t you?”

Lorsan perked up at that, a bright smile overtaking his features, “Yes! Do you remember the second half of our promise?” That was the part you were dreading. Telling him you couldn't move to the dark forest. You nodded, shifted back and forth on your feet.

“If it would be okay with you, I would like to move in.”

For the second time that day you felt yourself freeze. He…wanted to live with you? Didn’t he want to be with his friends? Didn’t he want to live where he grew up? Was he being serious?

“I-I mean it’s okay if you say no,” Lorsan fumbled, feeling his nerves consume him. “I understand, b-but I really enjoyed that day, and I wouldn’t mind helping you with your chores.”

You really shouldn’t say yes. Yes, you got to know him better through his messages, but he still didn’t know you all that well. Even though it had been years since that day, it felt like a rushed move, but his pretty green eyes had your resolve melting.

“Okay,” You agreed, a sheepish smile crawling over your lips.

“Really?” Lorsan gasped, bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah,” Your grin widened. “Just don’t cause too much trouble.”

#afk journey x reader #afk arena x reader #afk lorsan x reader #afk journey #afk arena #afk lorsan #afk journey lorsan #afk arena lorsan #afk journey lorsan x reader #x reader #afk arena lorsan x reader #lorsan x reader

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jungle-angel · 9 months ago

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A Boy And His Critters (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob think your oldest child might be an animal whisperer

Warnings: Mentions of birth, pregnancy, cuteness overload etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @callmemana @attapullman @withahappyrefrain @bobfloydsbabe

It was late in the afternoon in early spring, on a day when the hawthorn trees in your yard had just begun to bud and flower. Your birdfeeder already had more than enough visitors, your three cats, Freya, Thor and Pumpkin, having eyed them from the living room window. Already there had been fifteen calf births within the last two days with Bob, his father and his brothers and sisters having to wake at some ungodly hour to help with the births.

You were in the living room of your home in Montana, the soft Disney piano music playing from the speaker on your laptop. Bob lay on the spread out quilt on the living room floor, one pillow under his head and the other under his tummy while he gently rocked Baby Rudy in his little baby hammock. The sun streamed through the windows as you sat close to your husband and baby, the other three outside with their grandparents or aunts and uncles while you were busy carding the freshly shorn sheep's wool from the week before. You set aside your brushes and quickly took a snapshot of the sweet sight, hoping to add it to the photo album later.

You heard a loud meow and felt that familiar bushy tail brushing against you, looking down to find Thor rubbing against you. "You need a good brushing," you chuckled, teasing him with the carding combs.

"S'it the cat again?" Bob mumbled with a yawn.

"Yep," you answered, getting back to your work. "Rudy asleep?"

"Mmmhmm," Bob answered. "M'gonna go see if Dad needs help and come back for a nap."

Bob rose from his spot and kissed you before heading out to the barn to see if his father needed any help. "Hey sleepyhead!" the older Floyd greeted, tipping his black cowboy hat a little.

"Hey Dad," Bob answered sleepily. "Everything good?"

"Yeah everything's lookin good," Joe answered. "The hands have it all down so we don't have to worry until the spring auction. The baby go to sleep?"

"Just went down for a nap," Bob yawned. "I think I might too, my eyes are starting to itch."

Bob and his father conversed back and forth, totally unaware at first of the clanking of a metal bucket and the hurried footsteps of five year old Auggie.

"Bud?" Bob asked when he finally saw. "Whatcha doin?"

"Nothin Daddy," Auggie chirped.

"Doesn't look like nothin," Joe chuckled.

"I gotta go milk the cows, Papa!" Auggie announced.

Joe and Bob were humored to say the least, more so when they saw Smokey, the crotchety old rooster weaving his way in and out from between Auggie's legs. They followed behind him to make sure he didn't get into trouble, when he approached the female dairy cow that Joe and Irene had taken in, singing in his chirpy little voice, one of the farm songs he had learned in his kindergarten class at the so-called "hippie school" he attended with the other Dagger children.

"Holy shit," Joe chuckled. "Get a load of this Bobby."

Bob was thunderstruck when he saw the old bat following Auggie into the barn with Smokey still clucking away between his little cowboy boots. Normally it would take two or three of the hands to lead her in, but here was Auggie, five years old and barely up to his father's hips, leading her into the stall with no issues.

"Un......believable," Bob laughed.

"How the fuck does this kid do it?" Joe wondered out loud, a broad smile on his face at the sight of his grandson.

Bob quickly pulled out his phone and began recording, hoping to be able to show the others when they had a chance to come by. Auggie chirped away as he milked the cow until a startled moo came from her.

"Sorry Peach, but that's what Daddy does to Mommy and it works."

Bob stifled a squawk in his throat but not before Auggie began yelling at him in his best Shrek voice.

"AYE! GET OUT ME FUCKIN SWAMP!!!!!"

"August Robert!" Bob laughed.

Auggie hurried over but Bob was in too good a mood to discipline his son. "Sorry for using a dirty word, Daddy," he apologized.

Bob picked his son up and kissed his cheek, Auggie's glasses falling slightly off the bridge of his nose. "I'm glad you said sorry, but Daddy should remember the rule the he and Mommy put into place."

When Bob was able to go back inside, he showed you the video including the one of Auggie's Shrek impression.

"You'd think he was an animal whisperer by the way Smokey follows him around," you laughed.

"Sometimes I like to think so sweetheart," Bob yawned as he lay on the couch.

You set aside your carding combs and the wool, covering Bob with the spring quilt and snuggling in beside him, the two of you proud as ever of Auggie.

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x you #bob floyd x y/n #robert bob floyd x y/n #top gun maverick

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southernbluebellereader · 2 years ago

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Simon Riley x AFAB! Country Reader ft. A Little Cow

@crimsonbubble this was the best idea we came up with lol

Warnings: Hella fluff

Listen to me, y’all. Sometimes you just need a little cow napping on your lap.

Say Simon’s paying you a visit to your family farm, just to get away from everything, to get some new scenery, and to spend some time with you. Now, that man don’t know nothing about no farming - absolutely nothing. So he just following you around, helping you out when you’re checking on your little herd of dairy cows.

You never thought you’d see Simon with bright red, burned cheeks, and a farmer’s tan, and the two of you made a silent promise that you weren’t gonna tell anyone, especially Johnny about it. But you did have photographic proof.

After a hot and humid day of herding cows, the two of you decided to take a quick rest under one of the big oak trees.

“You doing ok over there, Simon?”

Simon stood off to the distance, hands on his hips, and watched as some of the cows tended to their calves, calves playing with each other, and other cows resting in the shades. He then turned his head towards you, smiling as you laid a blanket on the ground for the two or you to lay on and then walked towards you. If he’d worn the cowboy hat you offered him, maybe his face wouldn’t had burned. He felt his cheeks begin to sting.

He sat on the blanket with his back resting on the tree trunk, not saying anything. You smiled at him, then laid up next to him with his arms around you, just watching the cows. The cool breeze and distant mooing put the both of you to sleep.

After a little while, Simon finally woke up. His side where you'd laid next to him felt cool, but his lap felt warm and heavy. Nearly kicking his knees up to knock over whatever was laying on his lap, he sighed in relief when he saw your favorite cow resting her head on his lap.

"Fucking hell..." he whispered under his breath as he rubbed his eyes, then looking around for you - you were nowhere in sight. He figured you'd wandered off to a calf calling your name, but Simon's leg started to feel numb.

Daisy, you'd called her. Because for the longest time she'd only eat the grass where the daisies grew you told Simon. Simon wasn't a fan of farm animals for a long time. Sure, he was a butcher for a short while, but it was work. But visiting you in your natural habitat made him appreciate the slow and calm things in life - like cows. He gently petted the top of Daisy's head, watching how nearly her whole body seemed to move every time she breathe and how her tail automatically seemed to swat away every fly coming in within their vicinity. It was a mutual agreement between Simon and Daisy.

Simon petted her and Daisy kept the flies away, even in sleep. He even started talking to her.

"...So you're the favorite? I can see why."

Simon chuckled at the huff that Daisy let out. She may be half asleep, but she knows when you're being talked about.

"She misses you a lot - Can't shut up about you. She told me you had some kids before I got here."

You were walking back from helping a little calf get out of the fence and stopped in your tracks, a fat smile grew on your face. You couldn't believe it: Simon talking to a cow that's laying in his lap. And not just any cow - Daisy.

Oh and how you tried so hard to stay quiet as you pulled your phone out and took a few pictures. And you caught the exact moment Simon caught you and yelled "Oi! What do you think you're doing??"

Daisy groaned at Simon's yelling, who then cursed and apologized as you bust out laughing, holding your stomach as you tried to keep yourself from falling over as you made yourself over to Simon and Daisy.

"Simon what happened?" You managed to giggle out.

Simon's face was even more red, stumbling over his words.

"Y-You left me here! I woke up and you were gone and Daisy plopped her head on my leg and now I can't feel it."

As you calmed down your laughing, you nudged Daisy to get up so Simon could stand up and shake his leg alive. You kissed her head and before you sent her on her way, Daisy walked passed Simon and smacked her tail on his behind. Simon ain't never turned around so fast and looked at you, "Get your heifer, Y/N."

Chuckling still, you walk over to Simon and wrap your arms around his waist, "She ain't a heifer anymore, Simon, he had a calf. And that was her telling you to quit your attitude."

Simon shook his head and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, "Yeah yeah you like my attitude - both of you."

The both of you looked over at Daisy as she tended to her little calf who was jumping around her.

"You're not inviting her to our wedding are you?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna have a cow stroll up to the courthouse. C'mon now. She might be at the reception though."

Simon sighed, but couldn't help but smile, "Whatever you say, Mrs. Riley." Then he kissed the top of her head.

TAG LIST

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#cod #call of duty #call of duty mw #call of duty mwii #call of duty mw2 #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod platonic #ghost x reader #fan fic #fan fiction #simon #riley #lieutenant simon riley #riley x reader

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bovineblogger · 1 year ago

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sorry if this is a weird question, but how did you get into cows? :0 do you remember, or did it start so young you can’t? favorite animal forever?

my grandad n nana are dairy farmers and i spent a lot of time on their farm growing up!!!!! plus the dairy industry is HUGE here we have more cows than people rkdgffdlskjfd i just latched onto them..,.., i love them very very much

#asks #i love you!

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battleangel · 12 days ago

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Pigs Eyes & Crying Elephants: Sentient Beings Manifesto

A commercial with a crying elephant & the eyes of a pig.

I saw the elephant commercial for an animal welfare group last Tuesday during NXT.

That is what started all of this.

I was vegetarian for two years from 2013 to 2015 meaning I didn't eat any meat or seafood but I did eat eggs & consume dairy.

Then I started eating meat again in 2015.

Then about a year ago, I decided I would eat vegetarian during the week (Monday through Friday) and then eat meat & dairy on the weekends -- so my diet was 75% vegetarian for the past year.

But I was still eating all the chocolate, cheese & all of the dairy tingz.

Then I saw a commercial last week during NXT with a crying elephant. It really got to me.

I started during research on elephants & emotion. Turns out elephants pass the "mirror test" and are self-aware.

So are dolphins.

That led me down a rabbit hole where I started researching the emotional self-awareness of other animals and was surprised to find similar findings for pigs, chickens and cows.

And monkeys -- rhesus macaques are endlessly tortured for human medication. They are extremely self-aware and emotional.

I questioned myself on why my 75% vegetarianism diet shouldn't be 75% plant-based (vegan).

And I realized that I didn't want to give up exactly two things: cheese & chocolate.

And hell no, I didn't want the vegan alternatives.

But I started researching the dairy industry which then led me to researching CAFOs (commercial agricultural feeding operations) aka factory farms aka hell on earth aka infinity mirrors of animals being tortured endlessly.

10 billion land animals are slaughtered every year in the United States. Millions a day.

Is that really necessary?

Then I realized that the dairy industry was the plot to a dystopian sci-fi novel:

Women are forcibly impregnated, their babies taken from them immediately after being born — the baby boys are killed within 1 to 4 days, the girls are imprisoned to be forcibly impregnated just like their mothers.

The impregnation cycle is relentless and there are absolutely no breaks between artificial insemination - impregnation - birth repeat.

The woman are also given artificial growth hormones to force them to grow bigger & more quickly — the easier & quicker to impregnate them.

The women are kept in stalls that are so small & overcrowded they cant even move or turn around.

The women never see natural sunlight.

They are only allowed out of their stalls to give birth.

They are forced to endlessly lactate and pumped by machines so mercilessly that they bleed.

I still didn't feel that I could give up cheese 75% of the time.

Then I questioned myself on why not.

I have done very restrictive very low calorie diets in the past. I used to work out 2 hours a day, 6 days a week. I used to have a six pack.

I broke my 13 year addiction to the NFL & won't even be watching the Super Bowl once a year as of this year.

Why then is not eating cheese 75% of the time a seeming impossibility?

That was honestly how I felt.

So, I googled and found this:

Cheese contains casein. This is what causes such intense cravings. It also contains casein fragments called casomorphins, a casein-derived morphine-like compound. Dairy protein has opiate molecules built in. When consumed, these fragments attach to the same brain receptors that heroin and other narcotics attach to. Casomorphins cross the blood brain barrier and attach to dopamine receptors.

Cheese is literally 10% as addicting as morphine.

Yet they (do ask yourself who they is) have the motherfucking audacity to say it is "no more addictive than anything else that could be addictive, like Pringles or fast food."

First of all -- they are simply proving the point as those foods -- OPFs or overly processed foods & fast food -- also are highly addicting by deisgn, they are literally made to be. Study after study has confirmed that the most addictive foods are foods that are highly processed, high in fat, high in sodium and/or sugar.

Checks out, right?

What foods do you consider the most addicting?

Probably Oreos, potato chips, pizza, french fries, mozzarella sticks, fast food, donuts, cookies, brownies, pretzels, burgers like anyone else.

Right?

They are designed that way on purpose.

They create addicts on purpose for profit.

Cancer, diabetes, hypertension, high blood pressure, artherosclerosis, blood clots, immune system disorders, heart disease, stroke, heart attacks are all caused by diet & lifestyle.

It is a very lucrative business for them.

A million people are already on Wegovy babes?

It's a set up.

They make the food that makes people sick and they make the medicine that people buy after they buy the food that makes them sick. The above diseases did not exist at the current rate even 100 years ago. It's due to OPFs (overly processed food), PFAs (forever chemicals), toxins, sugar substitutes, partially hydrogenated vegetable oil (transfat), high fructose corn syrup, modified food starch, monosodium glutamate, dextrose, sucralose, lecithin, emulsifiers, aspartame, genetically modified organisms (GMOs), bioengineered ingredients, pesticides, artificial flavors & colors, preservatives, synthetic lab-made chemicals.

Capitalism is nothing but a death cult.

Wake up.

They are literally made that way on purpose & designed to be addictive.

But the way that casein is addictive is truly unique because it is binding itself to receptors in our brains the way that morphine & heroine does.

So, I decided I want to do something that is sustainable in the long-term 15 & 20+ years from now. I am 43.

I don't play an all or nothing zero sum game of zealotry where it's something that is impractical.

I look forward to the weekly meals with my husband.

We have been together for 17 years and have been married for over a decade.

I've looked at thousands of recipes over the years and have curated a Top 100 list of our absolute favorite receipes plus ones that I want us to try.

We always make a meal on the weekend & post the pictures on his Facebook.

While we eat our weekly meal, we talk, hang out, watch stuff on Youtube, baseball, basketball & wrestling.

It's one of the things we look forward to doing together as a couple the most.

He is the quintessential "meat & potatoes guy" but when I started eating vegetarian 75% of the time last year, he agreed to eat vegetarian 3 to 5 days a week.

He does eat meat & dairy the other days of the week.

I have decided that maintaining our weekly meals ritual as a couple is important to me.

So, for this to be sustainable it has to allow for our weekly meals to have meat and/or dairy -- and also, during the holidays, I want to be able to eat meat and/or dairy.

Other than that, Monday through Friday, my plan for the rest of my life is to eat a vegan (plant-based) diet 75% of the time -- no meat, seafood, dairy or animal-based or derived ingredients or by-products.

I immediately went through my apartment this morning once I had decided on this & was disappointed at how many of my snacks weren't vegan -- Annie's Organic granola bars, Nature's Bakery Bars & literally all of my remaining Halloween candy (Take 5, Reese's Cups, Crunch, & candy corn).

I gave it all to my husband in a bag this morning for him to take to work.

Since they are snacks that I ate on a daily basis, it is better to remove them from the apartment as my goal is to now eat vegan (plant-based) diet 75% of the time, Monday through Friday.

Staring at a bag of my absolute favorite non-vegan candy corn isn't exactly going to help me achieve that.

Vox When asked in an interview on the Climavores podcast why farms aren’t regulated to reduce pollution, USDA Secretary Tom Vilsack said there are simply too many farms to regulate, and that conservation efforts should be voluntary

According to Civil Eats, a nonprofit publication covering the US food system, nearly all animal agriculture operations are exempt from federal protections under the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, and the agency doesn’t respond to 85 percent of worker fatalities on animal farms.

Most states exempt livestock from anti-cruelty laws, and many states have passed “ag-gag laws,” which criminalize activists and journalists for simply recording what goes on at farms.

All 50 states have so-called “right to farm” laws, which prevent citizens from suing farms for nuisances like pollution and odor that degrade their quality of life.

A recent analysis from Stanford University researchers found that from 2014 to 2020, the US livestock sector received about 800 times more public funding than the meat, egg, and dairy alternatives sector.

Farmers are heavily overrepresented in government, with 25 current members of the US House of Representatives, or their family members, having collected millions of dollars in agricultural subsidies. That’s almost 6 percent of the chamber, even though just about 1 percent of Americans live on farms. The dynamic is the same at the state level.

Corn and soybean production, most of which is dedicated to ethanol and livestock feed, accounts for half of all crop cash receipts.

Don't you think some of the children literally starving to death right now in North Gaza in Palestine could have used some of that corn & soybean? No? The livestock that we don't need to eat because we don't need meat to survive needed it more than the children literally dying from starvation right now in North Gaza?

Vox Raising livestock requires far more land and water than growing plant-based foods — and produces far more pollution.

Over the past decade, the animal-agriculture industry has been behind the introduction of "ag-gag" bills in more than half of all state legislatures across the country. These dangerous bills are designed to silence whistleblowers revealing animal abuses on industrial farms. Ag-gag laws currently exist in six states, penalizing whistleblowers who investigate the day-to-day activities of industrial farms, including the recording, possession or distribution of photos, video and/or audio at a farm.

The USDA never conducts surprise audits, or any audits at all, to verify the company is telling the truth. It is, in essence, an honor system. The USDA also has an incredibly low, and often nonsensical, bar for what passes as humane treatment.

Over the course of more than a dozen shifts at multiple Foster Farms facilities, the investigator — who requested anonymity due to the covert nature of undercover investigations — documented workers slamming birds into crates, kicking and hitting chickens, and numerous instances of forklift drivers running over birds.

The investigator recalled making eye contact with a bird shortly after they were run over by a forklift. “They were being crushed and everything was being pushed forward, and they had their beak open, and they had this look on their face like they knew that they were dying,” the investigator told me. “And then I watched them flap and struggle for a moment before passing.”

The investigator chalked up most of the cruelty to the chaotic, fast-paced work environment imposed by supervisors during long, grueling shifts.

But you wouldn’t know that from its marketing or its “American Humane” certification.

Chickens raised for meat in America -- 98% of land animals that get slaughtered each year in factory farms -- are five times bigger today than they were in the 1950s! In 1957, chickens on farms raised for meat were 907 grams. In 1978, chickens on farms raised for meat were 1,808 grams. In 2005, they are 4,202 grams! WHERE IS OUR HUMANITY???????????

Vox American Humane allows for the standard chicken slaughter process: shackling chickens upside down, dunking them in a bath of electrified water to stun them unconscious, slitting their throats, and then placing them in a scalding vat to loosen their feathers.

Despite all that, the resulting meat can still be advertised as humane, sustainable, and produced from healthy birds.

Currently, chickens and other poultry birds have zero federal legal protections while on the farm or in the slaughterhouse.

During their short stint on behalf of the Washington, DC-based animal rights group Animal Outlook, the investigator documented hours upon hours of the typical horrors found on chicken factory farms: tens of thousands of birds stuffed into dark warehouse-sized barns, many of them severely injured with gruesome lesions, injuries, and deformities. At more than one point, birds are deprived of feed or water, and there was also a rat infestation and footage of bugs crawling in the chickens’ feed.

The conditions are visibly at odds with Tyson’s advertising claims that it treats animals humanely and raises “happy” and “healthy” chickens.

“It’s just a living nightmare,” the investigator, who requested anonymity due to the covert nature of undercover investigations, told Vox. “A video just does not do it any justice.”

Despite the horrific findings, they’re not all that different from the conditions documented at other farms that raise chickens for Tyson and Tyson’s competitors. The US Department of Agriculture (USDA) says chicken producers using the label “free-range” must provide birds “continuous, free access to the outside” for over 51 percent of their 6.5-week lives.

Is 6.5 weeks a life?????????????????????

In another portion of Animal Outlook’s footage, when the investigator asked the farm manager why so many chickens couldn’t move, he was blunt:

“They’re just fucked up.”

According to a 2021 ProPublica investigation, humane-labeled chicken is often processed in the same slaughterhouses, owned by companies like Tyson, as conventional meat.

“You almost couldn’t design a more torturous setting,” she said, adding that the video shows dying and dead chickens in “advanced states of decomposition” with the potential to “spread infectious disease to the other birds, human workers, and unsuspecting Tyson customers.”

WHERE IS OUR HUMANITY???????????????

Animal Outlook’s investigator also documented bugs crawling in the chickens’ feed, and rat infestations — problems echoed by the Tyson technician in the undercover video.

“The little baby chicks are gonna peck at those bugs, eat them, and then they’re gonna die,” Tyson’s technician told the farm manager in a conversation recorded by the investigator.

“You got rats in there, you got fresh rat activity in all your houses.” Despite these known issues, Animal Outlook alleges Tyson delivered fresh chicks to the farm.

As journalist Eyal Press, author of Dirty Work, a book on jobs in morally troubling industries like poultry, put it in a Vox podcast interview: “On the rare occasions when the curtain is pulled back and we see this dirty work going on, the blame goes to the lowest-ranking people at the bottom, and that’s very convenient for society.”

Ofcourse it is -- society still wants their Wendys Spicy Nuggs.

Vox However, holding meat companies legally accountable for how they treat animals is exceedingly difficult because there are no federal laws that protect animals while on the farm, and birds are exempt from federal slaughter and transport law.

Chickens raised for slaughter are bred in "high stocking densities", meaning they are unable to "move freely to flap their wings" or show "natural behaviors".

"They [Frankenchickens] have been bred to eat at an extraordinary rate so they put on this completely inappropriate weight gain just to get to market as quickly as possible."

If you are a starseed, understand our mission is to break up & dismantle Big Meat & Big Ag (& ofcourse Big Oil, Big Pharma, etc...): LPE Project

Today four massive companies – JBS, Tyson Foods, National Beef, and Cargill – control over 80 percent of America’s beef. Three companies – JBS, Tyson, and Smithfield Foods – control 63 percent of America’s pork. Two of those – JBS and Tyson – also control 38 percent of poultry. The grain, seed, farm equipment, agrochemical, livestock genetics, and animal pharmaceutical industries have likewise become highly consolidated.

These companies possess dominant market power as both sellers of meat and buyers of livestock, which they used to raise prices for consumers and lower prices paid to farmers.

In 1971, President Richard Nixon appointed Earl Butz – who at the time served on multiple agribusiness boards – to lead the USDA, opening a revolving door between the industry and the agency that has swung non-stop ever since.

Under Butz, subsidies for fossil-fuel-intensive monocultures led to a glut of cheap grain, which in turn led to factory farmed animals. “Since factory farms could buy grain for less than it cost farmers to grow it, they could now fatten animals more cheaply than farmers could,” wrote Michael Pollan.

In the last year, top companies in every major American meat sector – beef, pork, chicken, and turkey – have been subject to civil suits and/or federal investigations for conspiring to keep prices high. One lawsuit estimates that chicken industry price-fixing alone costs the average American family of four $330 per year.

The primary reason multinational meat conglomerates have flourished, and meat prices have remained artificially low, is that our government massively subsidizes them at everyone else’s expense.

Our government subsidizes Big Meat directly by allocating the bulk of federal crop subsidies to large farms growing animal feeds, by financing animal factory infrastructure, by buying billions of dollars of their products, and much more. In exchange for this support, taxpayers get hijacked federal agencies, policies shaped by pro-industry academic research, a less responsive democracy, and forceful industry lobbying to keep it that way.

It does this by failing to regulate the environmental impacts of factory farming, including the industry’s role in contaminating air, poisoning drinking water, and driving the climate crisis; by failing to require safe conditions for slaughterhouse workers; by denying most farmworkers the rights to form unions and earn minimum wage and overtime pay; by exempting “common farming practices,” no matter how cruel, from most state animal anti-cruelty statutes; and by failing to restrict the industry’s use of antibiotics (used to speed growth and keep overcrowded animals alive) despite the resulting increase in drug-resistant infections.

Farmer suicide rates are now 3.5 times that of the general population.

It is now commonplace for pigs (and their diseases) to be trucked hundreds of miles across the country without food, water, bedding, protection from extreme temperatures, or adequate space.

BedlamFarm.com One of these happenings was the discovery by scientists in New York in the 1950’sthat by adding tiny traces of antibiotics to animal feed they could increase the growth rates of animals.

With these new tools, farmers could concentrate animals in confined areas on a scale never before possible.

This was soon to be called “factory farming” by the few voices raised in alarm. The term has never been complimentary..

At the same time as the geneticists made their discoveries, Earl Butz, Dwight Eisenhower’s Agriculture Secretary, defined the new future.

It isn’t clear if Butz, a crude by visionary agriculture economist, saw the coming future or created it.

Farms, he said, and farmers had to consolidate, corporatized, embrace economies of scale, just what most family farmers would never do. The economists picked up this cry, and the family farmers never had a chance.

Butz was serious, perhaps prescient. He meant that in order to survive, farmers must pursue a new corporate model for farms – maximize profits, minimize loss.

Corporations jumped into farming big-time, buying giant tractors, hiring biologists and geneticists to redesign animals and turn them into unhealthy freaks with short live spans and no resistance to illness, parasites, or viruses, setting up distributions systems that could even sell milk and meat overseas.

On the corporate farms, when a cow gets sick, it is instantly put to death, veterinary care cut into profits, the cow just goes to slaughter.

The average live span of a milk cow, says the Agriculture Department, plunged from 12-15 years to two years by the 1990s. Cows on corporate farms never set foot outside, some never left their stalls, get no exercise, and are bored almost senseless.

Where is our humanity?????????????????

There is no stimulation in their lives, no change of scenery no hed for these herd animals, no walk, grazing, or hanging out with other cows, a cow’s favorite activity.

They live as long as they can produce more and more milk, and when they can’t, they die.

For animals, life became an Orwellian horror show, their very bodies, and spirits taken from them as they were genetically engineered to be profit centers, not animals with human caretakers and individual personalities and traits.

So have the chickens and pigs, many of whom live their lives without ever standing up in factory farms, mostly in the mid-central United States.

Most Americans will never see what is happening to these animals or even hear about them.

The people who increasingly have taken over the care of the animals we eat are sometimes the cruelest and most immoral people who have ever come within a hundred miles of a farm.

Comment to the above article: A quick google search reveals legislation proposed to add oversight to use of antibiotics in animals in 2018, 2017, 2013, 2002- all fought by Big Pharma. Often with the same ferocity and tactics used by Big Oil to fight against regulations to slow climate change.

ForksOverKnives: The USDA is tasked with setting the nation's nutrition guidelines. Yet this is in direct conflict with its primary interest: ensuring the profitability of producers of foods such as dairy and meat. These foods are known to increase the risk of obesity, diabetes, cancer, and cardiovascular disease. Is it any wonder that programs administered by the USDA and funded by the Farm Bill preferentially feed school children and the poor unhealthy foods that cause chronic disease?

The farming practices that underpin our healthcare crisis also degrade our environment. To grow vast swaths of these monoculture crops, enormous amounts of chemical fertilizers, pesticides, herbicides, and fungicides are required. Many of these agricultural chemicals are suspected endocrine disruptors and carcinogens that are thought to alter human DNA down through the generations.

During my lifetime alone, annual worldwide pesticide production has increased from 200,000 tons to more than 5 million tons, according to estimates from The Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations. It has gotten to the point that many of these chemicals now rain down upon us. These pesticides wipe out beneficial and native wildlife such as honey bees, monarch butterflies, and songbirds.

A Happy Meal? If, by eliminating Farm Bill subsidies, the cost of a Quarter Pounder with Cheese were to rise from, say $4 to $15, eating habits would likely shift toward eating healthier foods, especially if at the same time, a program were put in effect to incentivize the consumption of whole plant foods. In fact, a large nationwide program in South Africa has already demonstrated that the public will consume more fruits and vegetables when these healthy foods are subsidized.

Making Us Sick Makes Them Money The 17 percent of GDP (about $3.2 trillion) the nation now spends on health care will rise to 20 percent of GDP by 2025, according to The Center for Medicare and Medicaid Services. The CDC estimates that 86 percent of this money is not actually spent on making people healthy; it is spent on treating and sustaining chronic illness such as cardiovascular disease, cancer, obesity, diabetes, and dementia. The medical evidence shows that most of this chronic disease is the result of the food we eat and can be prevented and even reversed by eating a plant-based diet.

Fish have it worse in one way -- they have ZERO legal protections.

AnimalEquality Commercial fishing is cruelty to animals on a colossal scale, killing nearly a trillion animals worldwide every year. Ships the size of football fields use techniques such as longlining and gill nets.

Gill nets, which range from 300 feet to seven miles in length, create large walls of nets that fish are unable to see. They inadvertently swim into them and many will suffocate or bleed to death.

In the United States, fish are not covered by the Humane Slaughter Act. This results in a wide variety of cruel slaughter methods dependent on industry, company, and species.

Fish are usually removed from the water and left to suffocate and die. They desperately attempt to escape as their gills collapse preventing them from being able to breathe. Larger animals, such as tuna and swordfish, are usually clubbed to death. This often leads to an animal being injured but regaining consciousness and the process having to be repeated several times.

There are 1.3 billion farm raised fish in the United States.

Vox It’s unsurprising that fish have been ignored. They live underwater, so we rarely interact with them. They can’t vocalize or make facial expressions, so it’s much harder to understand them than mammals and birds. And research has shown that the further animals are from us on the evolutionary chain, the less likely we are to try to protect them.

In commercial ocean fishing, the welfare concerns are mostly relegated to the final minutes or hours of a fish’s life — they’re typically left to suffocate to death on deck, which can take under an hour or up to several hours.

Other welfare issues include rough handling and the inability to express natural behaviors, like migration and nesting.

One of the bigger findings of the past two decades has been that fish have nociceptors, sensory neurons that detect and respond to damaging or threatening stimuli — a strong indicator they experience pain.

But just like with other species, researchers have repeatedly demonstrated that fish behave differently in adverse conditions (for example, they limit eating and activity) and stop these behaviors when pain relief is given.

They don't WANT to believe fish feel pain because it will lower their profits -- read the above again & honestly tell me that those fish don't sound like they were in pain & then relieved from pain -- so should they be left alone on ship decks to suffocate to death for HOURS???????????

Wild-captured fish experience agonizing final moments no animal should have to endure, as pressure weighs on their bodies when they’re quickly pulled up out of the ocean’s depths in nets, and they begin to suffocate.

Death, too, is cruel on fish farms, where many fish are killed slowly by suffocation or in ice water.

Existing in these cramped environments is a far cry from the lives fish would experience in their natural habitats. For one example, salmon may swim spans of hundreds of miles to reach the ocean from the streams in which they hatched, and much farther as they reach feeding grounds, according to the U.S. Geological Survey. Sometimes, salmon will spend years at sea before returning to their original stream to spawn.

Extraction of groundwater for aquaculture has been found in one study to accelerate sea level rise by causing land to sink.

Pigs on factory farms are often cannibalized, forced to eat meat from fellow pigs.

WHERE IS OUR HUMANITY???????????

Where is humanity?

They are sentient beings: capable of feeling pain, and experiencing a range of emotions. Scientific evidence has revealed that fish are far more intelligent than people assume. They have long-term memories, complex social structures, problem solving abilities, and some have been seen using tools.

Fish are even crushed to death & literally cut in half while alive!

Where is humanity?

Porkopolis It is near impossible in the industry to encounter a conceptual or ethical limit proposed for sows biological reproductive capacity.

AnimalsAustralia Farrowing crates are cold, hard metal cages with steel or concrete floors. In factory farms around the world, it’s standard practice to transfer mother pigs to a farrowing crate 7-14 days before she gives birth to her new piglets. After birthing (in a process known as ‘farrowing’), she remains confined in these metal ‘maternity’ crates for 3-4 weeks until her piglets are weaned.

Farrowing crates are so small a mother pig can barely move – she can only sit, stand or lay down slowly, and with difficulty. Pigs are naturally very clean animals, and when given the choice, never toilet where they eat, sleep or play. Instead, they will often travel far away to relieve themselves. But trapped in a farrowing crate, she can only take one step forward or back and is forced to urinate and defecate right where she stands. For mother pigs, this unhygienic behaviour causes her extreme stress, discomfort and heightens her risk of disease.

Despite having the intelligence of a 3-year old child, who can solve puzzles and even play video games, have amazing memories, can sense the passing of time, foster lifelong friendships with other pigs and expresses empathy for humans and pigs alike, these loving animals continue to be industrialised and treated like 'products', rather than individuals who feel - and express - an enormous range of emotions. She is someone, not something.

Eggs are Not Eggscellent Cages are extremely cruel, and sadly they are just one of many cruelties chickens are forced to endure in the egg industry. In all commercial egg systems – cage, barn-raised, free-range or organic – male chicks are considered ‘worthless’ and are killed on their first day of life.

Female chicks are raised to replace hens who are sent to slaughter at just 18-30 months old — a fraction of their natural lifespan. As newborns, the tips of their beaks can be cut off without pain reliefto reduce aggressive pecking fueled by frustration when they cannot move freely, forage, or establish a natural social structure.

Because the males bred into the industry won’t grow up to produce eggs they are ‘disposed of’ by gassing or maceration -- literally being shredded to death while alive.

And later that year, at Sparboe Farms in Iowa, undercover investigators documented hens with gaping, untreated wounds laying eggs in cramped conditions among decaying corpses.

Leo Tolstoy - 1891 Essay A village pig is dragged outside for slaughter. The animals “human-looking pink body” screamed in a “dreadful voice, resembling the shriek of a man”.

After the screams subsided and the animal was killed, even the gruff carriage driver accompanying Tolstoy lets out a heavy sigh.

“Do people really not have to answer for such things?”

Almost 200 years later, do they answer for such things?

My question to anyone reading this (unless you are already a strict vegan) is:

What can you do to reduce the overall suffering & harm done to sentient beings (all animals including fish & cetaceans) that is realistic & repeatable over the long term?

Me, personally I do not see the point in being some total zealot that never eats anyhing with bone char again if it isn't sustainable over the long term.

Vegans call it doing what is "practical & possible".

I believe it is also very important that it be sustainable over the long term or else what was the point?

Now, I will end this by asking you the same question I asked myself:

What can you do to reduce the suffering & harm to sentient beings (all animals including fish & cetaceans) that fits the following two criteria:

Realistic

Repeatable over the long term

I also want to say this if you are a starseed reading this -- we need to work with everyone.

This isn't some kind of ideological purity test or a flex as I see a lot of that within the movement for animal rights & activism. This is about sentient, self-aware beings that are emotional, social & cognitively functional getting the living shit tortured out of them.

This is about the fact that 90% of the world's population as of today eats meat.

This is about 10 billion farm animals being slaughtered in the US every year for food.

This is about 99% of farm animals in the US being killed in factory farms.

This is about 90% of the 10 billion farm animals being slaughtered in the US being chickens.

This is about fedral subsidies that make a cheeseburger $4 when it should really be at least $15.

This is about big meat & big ag spending tens of millions every year to bankroll politicians for favorable policies.

This is about landmark legislation from the EPA & Congress not applying to the agricultural industry that causes the majority of land, air & water pollution & waste.

This is about the fact that there is no Big Broccoli to counter the meat & agricultural cartels.

This is about Trump winning.

It's not about fighting over bone char, cholecalciferol & cross contamination.

It's not about a competition on who can utilize the least animal byproducts (like the paint on the walls in your home & the tires in your car).

It's not a who's the best vegan dick measuring contest.

We need to work with everyone given what we are about against.

The 10 billion number has not dropped. And actually, people are consuming more meat.

Although there have been legislative wins and imitation meat like Impossible & Beyond Meat are promising.

They have the lobbying machine, political apparatus, laws, subsidies & constant commercials & ads on their side. When's the last time you saw a commercial for vegetables?

Now, when's the last time you saw a commercial for Sonics, Dominos, Pizza Hut, Burger King, Pringles, Lays, Reeses Cup, Snickers, Twix, Applebees, Chilis, McDonalds.

We need to work with omnis, flexitarians, pescatarians, people that don't eat pork, people that don't eat chicken, people that don't eat beef, people that don't consume dairy.

That's not watering down or diluting a message.

It's decentering zealotry so we can actually get somewhere in our fight for animals to be recognized as sentient beings with their own inalienable rights.

That is maybe 100 to 250+ years off.

We won't get anywhere if we stay on reddit debating about whether brown sugar is okay if it is processed with bone char.

Keep that in mind. The animals are counting on us. ✨✨✨

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bimbo-travel-blog · 27 days ago

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Thank y'all fer showin' me an' the Missus round! And ahm soooo sorry for the mess she made on yer waterbed! Ah new she'd git ecsited at the sight of the dairy cows an' t' thought of bein' one 'erself, but ah didn't expect the Bambi Bites to make 'er squirt that hard nor that easy! Ah hope 'er huggin' and squeezin' and kissin' weren't tew much trouble neither, ah think ah might have to keep 'er on a shorter lead~

That diner shure were just darlin' tho, ah'll 'ave to take 'er back sometime. Dinner on me next? Fer yore constant hosp... 'ospital... since y'all've been sweeter 'an sugar an' kinder than ah cud possibly repay, of course~

Hugs for all!

Oh honey hunk don't yew worry about that water bed or your sweet squrting slut. She ain't the first gal to cream that water bed and she won't be the last, I tell you what. That's why the FDA don't approve Bambi Bites, cause theys scared of what wood happen iffin' all us women unlocked our bodies good like we do here in our honey drenched home town, yes sir. I cain't imagine a world with global warmiing iffin' all our women folk could squirt from a little truck bed cuddlin' like she did.

That girl is a natural though I tell you somethin'. The way she wagged her ass and mooed at the dairy cows as we passed them on by was just precious. The feeling as mutual, I could tell. Them cows were eyeing her up, wanting her in that herd ASAP. Did you see how they all came up to the fence to let ya'll pet them? Heck after she squirted and mooed like that, theys got so excited I thought they were gonna break down the fence to get to her.

So sorry in advance if she starts askin' you to "Make her milky" with her words an' body. Most girls don't have that kind of connection with the cows when they first come to town. Heck most run away when they first see it! But like I said she's O'Natural.

I'm glad ya'll are thinkin' of stayin' around! I was watchin' yew feed her them Bambi Bites in the back seat. Strokin' her hair while she ate out of yer hand. Soups adorable. Hope ya don't loose that! Wouldn't want you turning into a bully boy to match her cutie cow. :(

Anywho, the girls from the farm wanted me to send ya'll home with a nice cool carton O' Milk from the herd. It does a body good!

#bimbo training #bimboification #mind control #hypnosis #feedee girl #brainwashing #brain drain #himbo #big breats #bimbofied #lactating kink #cowgirl

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secretariatess · 11 months ago

Text

The Milkmaids and the Partridge

So, because I usually write other world fantasy, where Christmas doesn't actually exist. So writing a fantasy Christmas story for me . . . wouldn't be undoable, I guess, but it would take a lot more work than I wanted to put in.

So the theme was "Twelve Days of Christmas," which is meant of the literal days of Christmas and not the song. But I'm being very loose with all of this and using inspiration from the song, and inspiration from the real Christmas story.

It's more of a fairy tale than anything, so hopefully it's enjoyable despite my liberties, lol. It's under 5k words (which is surprising for me!)

For the Christmas Inklings Challenge, @inklings-challenge

Once upon a time, in the Realm of the Ten Lords, there was a humble dairy farm on the outskirts of the town. This dairy farm, known to most as the Starry Night Farm due to its uniquely painted barn, was owned and run by eight milkmaids. These milkmaids were not sisters by blood, but considered themselves such all the same because of how close they got over the years. The start of their friendship is truly an interesting story, but it is not the story right now.

These milkmaids all lived in the space over the barn. It was not a very large space, as they did not have many cows, but it kept them warm and provided beds for them, so they were quite content with their lives. Their cows produced some of the finest milk in all the realm, and so they had met many a traveler seeking to taste the milk.

Now one of their duties was to make sure their pastures were fit for their cows. A good pasture led to happy, healthy cows, and that was part of their secret for their milk. The milkmaids took this task very seriously and always kept a sharp eye out for anything that might pose a danger to the cows.

It was one morning that Spirit, for that was the name of one of the milkmaids, noticed that there was a patch of foxtail growing in the corner of the pasture. Now see, foxtail was not very good for cows, as the spikelets of the foxtail could get into the noses and ears of cows and cause great harm. Spirit promptly got rid of it and thought that that was the end of it.

The next day, Comfort, another milkmaid, saw foxtail growing in the corner of the pasture, and she took care of it before any of the cows wandered over. Like Spirit, she thought that was the end of it. But the next day, and the day after that, all the milkmaids had encountered the foxtail, each believing that they were responsible for getting rid of it and not realizing that their fellow milkmaids had done the same thing.

It was not until Spirit saw the foxtail again, and this time, there was more of it. She said to her fellow milkmaids, “Dear sisters, see here- I have removed this foxtail but a little over a week ago and it has returned in a larger bunch.”

“You have removed it?” said Meek, another milkmaid who was normally quiet. “Why, I have removed it myself only a week past! It has returned already?”

“That is quite odd,” said Suffered, yet another one of the milkmaids. “For it twas only yesterday that I removed a patch of foxtail.”

It was then discovered that all of the milkmaids had removed a patch of foxtail. The rate of its growth alarmed them.

“Dear sisters, what should we do?” asked Patience, wringing her hands. “If it will only come back, and in larger amounts, removing it will get us nowhere!”

“Come now,” chided Righteous gently. “There is no use getting in a tizzy just yet. We will ask the Nine Ladies for their wisdom about what we should do.”

It was a very good idea, and the milkmaids agreed to trek into town at the end of the week. The Nine Ladies were fond of dancing, and held a dance every end of the week. They were married to the Ten Lords, save one. This Lord fancied his leaping, as the rest of the Lords were, but thought that getting married would only tie him down. He wanted to spend as many years as he could to leap as high as he could before he settled down and got married.

It was a jolly sight when they arrived. Half the townsfolk had arrived to participate in the dance, and the music was merry. For those who were not as nimble on their feet, or perhaps were recovering from having partners who were not as nimble on their feet, there was a large banquet set up for them to enjoy, courtesy of the Nine Ladies.

The milkmaids approached the table of the Nine Ladies, who were resting after spending only a few hours on the dance floor, and curtsied low to them, as one does to show respect to a noble. In truth, the milkmaids were not used to curtsying as they spent much of their time with their cows, and one does not curtsy to a cow. Because of this one or two of them thought they would tip over before they could straighten. Fortunately, they did not.

“Oh great Ladies of the Realm,” said Pure, rising up from her curtsy and clasping her hands together as though she were praying. “We have come to implore you for your wisdom, as we are faced with a terrible problem and do not know how to get rid of it.”

“Speak girls,” said the Lady in the middle, whose cheeks were red and jolly, “and tell us what your problem is that we may help you.”

“Great Ladies of the Realm,” said Pure again, addressing them so that she may not be seen as rude, “we discovered a patch of foxtail growing in our pasture a little over a week ago. It was not too much of an issue for us, but we found out that it was growing every day, and recently we discovered that it has come back nearly twice the size. It is not good for our cows, and we are concerned about the damage it will cause them. What should we do about this foxtail that will not go away?”

“Oh, fear not!” said the Lady at the end on the right. “That is an easy enough fix. What you need is a partridge.”

“A partridge?” repeated Pure. She remembered her manners and quickly added, “Oh Great Lady?”

The Lady at the end on the left nodded cheerfully. “Truly! That is all you need. There is a partridge in the Garden of the Eleven Pipers- if you go to her, you may be able to persuade her to return with you. When she does, she will eat your foxtail, for that is what partridges like.”

The milkmaids all curtsied low at this advice.

“Great Ladies of the Realm, we thank you for your help,” said Pure. “We shall be ever grateful.”

“Now, now,” the Lady to the left of the Lady in the middle, “rise up and smile. Perhaps you will join us for some time in this dance!”

The milkmaids did as the Lady requested, and danced for joy at the solution to their problem. When they returned that night, for they spent many hours dancing, they prepared themselves for the journey to the Garden of the Eleven Pipers and put away their cows with a lot of hay to ensure their happiness.

The Garden of the Eleven Pipers was on the other side and would take a few days worth of travel to get there. The milkmaids had never been there themselves, but they had met people who had, and they were told it was a wonderful place. So they were excited to see its wonder and bring back the partridge. It was agreed to take a sack of seeds with them to present to the partridge in order to persuade her to return with them.

In the morning, they set off, singing to each other all sorts of joyous songs.

As they journeyed on, they came upon the Great Horned Owl.

The Great Horned Owl was sleeping, and was not happy with being disturbed from his slumber by their joyful singing. He settled on the side of the path, peering at them blearily with narrowed eyes as he tried to make them out.

“Too-hoo! What is this to-do?” he hooted, blinking slowly. The daylight bothered his eyes so.

“We are going to the Garden of the Eleven Pipers,” said Peace, stepping forward.

“The Garden of the Eleven Pipers?” hooted the Owl. “Too-hoo! That is a long journey.”

“It is only a few days,” said Peace. “It is not too long for us.”

“Too-hoo! I see,” said the Owl. “Now why would eight young milkmaids be going to the Garden of Eleven Pipers for? Is this part of the Realm not satisfactory for you?” The Great Horned Owl was a nosy fellow, and had to know about people moving about where they usually did not go.

“We are going to find a partridge,” said Peace. She showed him the basket they prepared for the partridge. The milkmaids had agreed that it would be much more comfortable for the partridge to sit in a cushioned basket than to be carried by their arms or walk the whole way back to the Starry Night Farm.

“A partridge? Too-hoo! What an odd thing to look for,” said the Owl.

“We need the partridge to help us with the foxtail in our farm,” said Peace. “It is growing at an alarming rate, and the Nine Ladies told us that a partridge will eat the foxtail.”

“Too-hoo! Is that true?” said the Owl. But the Owl was jealous. He prided himself with helping all who came across his path with his wide range of knowledge, and he did not like the idea of the milkmaids seeking help from another bird. Why wouldn’t the Nine Ladies send them to him? He could have figured out a solution to their problem.

“It is true!” confirmed Peace.

“Well then, too-hoo!” said the Owl, devising a plan. “When you come back, why don’t you show me the partridge before going back to the farm? I have some foxtail myself that I would like to get rid of. If this partridge can do it, than I would like to have some of her time.”

The milkmaids agreed, because they did not know that the Owl was scheming. He did not have any foxtail that was growing anywhere, so he certainly did not need the partridge for that. He instead hoped to eat the partridge whole, so he could remain the only bird to whom the humans asked for help. But the milkmaids could not have known this, for he was very convincing.

So they continued on their way. After a few days, they stood at the entrance of the Garden of the Eleven Pipers. No one really saw the Pipers at work in the Garden, but they knew they were there, somewhere among the plants and trees the Pipers grew. The Garden was enormous, and the Pipers allowed anyone in to come and rest, and to eat the fruit and vegetables of their garden. It was a refuge for many creatures and people without any other place to go.

But because it was so large, the milkmaids realized that it would take them quite a while to find the partridge. They wandered here and there, stepping around the carrot patches and the tomato plants, twisting their way around the apple trees and blueberry bushes, until they came upon a sparkling creek winding around the orange trees. In this creek were seven beautiful swans, swimming about and coming together to share some exciting information before drifting apart again to think of something else that had happened to them that week.

The milkmaids quietly approached, not wanting to startle the swans.

One of them took noticed and let out a welcoming honk. “Welcome, welcome! Now, what brings the eight of you lovely milkmaids here?” cried one of the swans.

“We are looking for a partridge,” said Meek, stepping in front of the other milkmaids. “We were told by the Nine Ladies that we could find her here, but we do not know where to look for her.”

“Oh, the partridge!” exclaimed the swan. “Oh yes, we know the partridge. She joins us for our weddings and birthdays, you know.”

“And when we have feasts!” piped another swan. “She is quite a lovely thing, and we certainly enjoy her company.”

“Perhaps you could point us in the right direction?” asked Meek. “We are beginning to feel quite lost.”

“Oh, but of course!” said the second swan. “Now, if you go down that way, you should come out to some very lovely banana trees. There are usually some geese there who know just about everyone here in the Garden. They will tell you where the partridge likes to go.”

“Thank you very much!” said Meek, and she meant it. For it is not every day that one gets lost in a giant garden. The experience was quite overwhelming.

The milkmaids followed the swan’s advice, and sure enough, they came across some banana trees with six geese who had made themselves quite cozy at the root of the trees. Their nests were big enough to hold fully grown humans, and they were made with the softest, finest things that the geese could find. The geese were very particular about their nests, for once every week, they would lay one egg. And then on the seventh day, they would all rest and care for the egg they laid.

They were resting on this day, sitting happily on the eggs they laid and dreaming of the gooseling they would get to meet shortly.

When the milkmaids arrived, they lifted their heads contentedly.

“Excuse us, madams,” said Mercy, stepping forward this time. “Perhaps you could tell where we might find the partridge? We were told that you would know.”

“Why, of course dear!” said the first goose. Her voice was that that only a mother could have when talking tenderly to a child. “We know exactly where she is. She likes to roost among the pear trees.”

“Thank you, kind madams,” said Mercy, giving a little curtsy. She did not know if it was proper to do so, but it felt wrong to not do so. Her fellow milkmaids followed suit, giving the geese a respectful curtsy. “Perhaps you could tell us where the pear trees are? We are new to the Garden, and do not know our way around.”

“Oh, you poor dears,” fussed the second goose. “Wandering around the Garden, and no idea of how to get anywhere? It is a wonder you got this far then, I shouldn’t wonder. We would take you ourselves if it weren’t for the fact that we mustn’t leave these eggs alone. The Garden is safe, but it never hurts to be careful.”

“Well, I shan’t tell them to go alone,” said the third goose. “I would not want them to wander off and get lost again. Even with the best directions you can always take a wrong step, and next thing you know, you’re in the pumpkin patch!”

“No need to worry,” said the fourth goose calmly. “We shall send the calling birds with them. They will know where to go, and can stay with the girls so that they do not get lost. Now, you must wait for them,” she told the milkmaids sternly.

The milkmaids agreed and settled themselves by the geese while the fifth goose let out a loud honk to tell the calling birds to come to them. While they waited, the milkmaids told the geese of their mission, and the foxtail that was growing in their pasture. The geese sympathized with their plight and fussed over the long journey that the milkmaids had to take to get the Garden. The milkmaids let the geese fuss over them, for it was better to let the geese care for them and not to tell them that they did not need the care. As it was, it felt nice to be cared for. The geese made sure they still had enough food and water to continue on, and to make it back home.

The two calling birds arrived shortly after the geese confirmed that the milkmaids would be able to travel quite comfortably.

“Greetings!” said the first calling bird. “We heard that someone is in need of our service?”

“Yes, yes, these poor dears are looking for the partridge,” said the second goose. “They are quite lost, as it is their first time in the Garden. Would you be so kind as to escort them to the pear trees so that they do not get lost?”

“Most certainly!” said the second calling bird. He swept into a bow as only a bird could. “We can bring you straight to the partridge! However, we must tell you, that you will have to wait until nightfall to speak with her. For she is a very busy bird and does not come to rest until night.”

“We can most certainly wait,” assured Mercy, giving the calling birds a curtsy in turn. All this curtsying was making her legs tired. She was not used to having to do this.

“Right this way, then!” said the first calling bird. He took off from the branch where he had landed and swiftly wove between the trees. The second calling bird only took off when the milkmaids had started to follow, occasionally flying behind them or perching on their shoulder. The first calling bird stopped when he had gone far enough, making sure the milkmaids knew where to go. The second calling bird stayed with them to make sure they did not take a wrong turn and get lost. He also had a very good singing voice and knew a great deal of songs, many of which he taught the milkmaids as they made their way to the pear trees.

It was early evening when they arrived. The calling birds brought them directly to the pear tree where the partridge would rest. The milkmaids rested their weary legs underneath the tree. Even though they tried to maintain a conversation with the calling birds, they eventually became too tired and fell asleep.

They were awoken by a bright light from above them. Looking up as they rubbed the sleep from their eyes, they saw light from a very bright star as a partridge came to rest in the branches of the pear tree above them. She peered down at them curiously.

“It is not every night that I come to find visitors beneath my tree,” said the partridge. “What brings you here?”

“O Great Partridge,” said Comfort. She used such great titles because that is how one addresses the Ladies. And if this partridge was to save them from their foxtail problem, it was only logical to refer to her like this. “We have come to plead for your help. Our farm has a problem with foxtail- my sisters and I have all pulled it up, but it keeps returning. We were told by the Nine Ladies that you would be able to help us.”

Peace held up the offering of nuts. “We have brought you these as part of our request to come back with us,” said Peace. “If you do, we will be forever indebted to you, for the foxtail is harmful to our cows, and our cows are our livelihood.”

The partridge looked quite pleased with the request. But not a pleased where she looked proud, but rather a pleased that she was happy they had asked her. “Of course, daughters, I will come with you and take care of your foxtail. Now settle yourselves back to sleep so you are rested for the journey. In the morning, we shall head out.”

The milkmaids thanked her profusely and settled back into sleep.

In the morning, when they were still rising from their slumber and getting themselves ready to go, they were approached by three hens who prided themselves with knowing a language known as “French,” which was spoken in a realm very far from the Realm of the Ten Lords. Though there were some who suspected that the hens had just made up a language of gibberish and claimed that it was real to make themselves seem well educated, especially since they could not speak any known languages besides the common tongue.

But these hens were not here to boast of their language skills. Instead, they looked quite concerned. “Dear mademoiselles, you must not return the way you came,” they told the milkmaids.

“Why is that?” asked Suffered.

“We have it on good authority that the Great Horned Owl is expecting you,” they informed them. “But he is not looking to get rid of foxtail, as he had told you. He was sharing with some of his friends how much he was going to enjoy partridge for dinner someday. If you return the way you came and meet with the Great Horned Owl, he will surely eat the partridge.”

“Oh dear,” said Meek. “That is something that we cannot let happen! But then, how are we to return?”

“There is a hamlet of twelve drummers,” they told the milkmaids. “Up in the hills, south of the Garden. If you go to them, they will provide you a way home.”

The milkmaids thanked the hens for their advice. They tucked the partridge all nice and cozy in the basket they brought for her, supplying her with their offering of nuts. They then followed the hens’ advice and headed south out of the Garden.

It was a hard journey to the hamlet. It consisted only of twelve houses and one meeting house. Each building sat on a hill of its own, and each hill was steep. The drummers, who were not drummers by trade, would sit outside of their houses and drum with each other. They only left their hills when they had to go to the meeting house to discuss important things that oculd not be said yelling across the dips between hills.

When the milkmaids arrived, such an event demanded the use of the meeting house. The drummers saw them from a long way off and were waiting for them there already. The milkmaids collapsed on the ground, too tired from the journey to show proper decorum to the drummers. Tearfully, the milkmaids told the drummers of their plight. The drummers comforted them, telling them that they were safe. The drummers provided for them blankets and makeshift beds so they could sleep in the meeting house. Before bed, both the drummers and the milkmaids ate a lovely dinner of fruits, nuts, vegetables, and meat that each drummer harvested from his own hill. The partridge remained in her basket, happily observing the dining.

In the morning, the drummers came to the milkmaids. They presented them with five golden rings.

“These are magic rings,” said one of the drummers, who used congas. “We use them when we want to leave the hills. They will take you back to your home without the Great Horned Owl’s knowledge.”

The milkmaids thanked them as profusely as they thanked the hens. They all partnered with another of the milkmaids, with Pure carrying the basket with the partridge. One of the drummers, the one who played a timpani, accompanied them to show them how to use the rings and to take the rings back home after ensuring they got back safely.

When they arrived at the Starry Night Farm, the milkmaids further showed their gratitude by gifting the timpani drummer with twelve bottles of their finest milk.

They set the partridge amongst the foxtail, which had overtaken the whole pasture in their absence. The partridge immediately set to work, eating away at all the foxtail. When enough of it had been eaten, the milkmaids let the cows out, who had been safely shut away.

Unbeknownst to the milkmaids, the Great Horned Owl realized that they were not going to return the way they came. Enraged by their trickery, he himself flew to the Garden in hopes of finding the partridge. Not knowing what a partridge looked like, he made sure to eat all the quail and grouse who considered themselves safe in the Garden. When he realized that he still had not caught the partridge, he headed back to the Starry Night Farm to exact his revenge.

The milkmaids were out in the pasture tending to their cows when the Owl arrived. Talons spread, he swooped towards Spirit, who cried out in fear. Her fellow milkmaids rushed to save her, but it was the partridge who jumped out in front of Spirit.

The partridge fought fiercely, caring not that the Owl was bigger than her, nor that his talons were sharp and made to snatch her up. To the Owl’s great surprise, she was stronger than she appeared and above all, determined.

Just as the sun started to sink beneath the trees, the battle ended. The Owl dragged himself away from the site of the battle into the uneaten foxtail and died from his wounds.

The partridge remained where she was, beaten, bruised, and bloodied. The milkmaids rushed to her side to find that she was already dead.

The milkmaids wept bitterly, placing her in the basket that had been serving as her bed. They brought the basket into the barn where they mourned the whole night. Their tears exhausted them and they fell asleep around the basket.

Morning came and peered through the slats of the barns. The milkmaids blinked awake in its gaze. There, in the middle of the largest sunbeam, sat the partridge, alive and well! The milkmaids cried out in amazement and happiness.

“O Great Partridge!” gasped Righteous. “We thought you were surely gone! How joyous is it that you are not!”

“Death could not keep me, daughter, after such a sacrifice,” said the partridge. “I said I would take care of your foxtail, and I am not one to go back on my promises.”

With great rejoicing, the milkmaids returned the pasture with partridge. The carcass of the Owl was thrown out by the road, where worms, scavengers, and flies discovered it. The partridge remained with the milkmaids and ate their foxtail. The cows continued to be healthy and happy, and produced even finer milk than before.

For now, at least, they lived happily ever after.

#inklingschallenge #christmas inklings challenge

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justhilary123 · 4 months ago

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Old McMickey Had a Farm! M-O-U-S-E!: Episode 44

One day, Mickey welcomes us to his farm. After turning his tractor around, Mickey slips and falls over. Don’t worry. He’s okay. After recovering, we joined Mickey as he gave us a tour of his farm.

The first animal we saw is a cow, Mickey moos like a cow and asked, "How are ya, mooing?", and after mooing like a cow, Mickey explains that cows make dairy products, like milk and one of Mickey’s favorites, cheese.

Moo-ving on! Mickey explains that a lot of farm animals eat hay, such as his horse, buttercup, his goat and his starfish?! Wow! That’s a funny farm animal!

Mickey then introduces us to his chickens, as well as a rubber chicken, a mommy chicken and her baby chicks. We helped Mickey feed the chicks and Mickey told us that the chickens are great singers and that made him feel like dancing and that’s when we do a chicken dance together. It was a lot of farmyard fun touring the farm with Mickey

If you’re looking for farmyard fun, the "Farm Tour" vlog is the one for you.

Mickey Mouse is in top form here. Throughout this entire vlog, Mickey wore a farmer’s outfit.

This vlog gets off to a rather comical start. Mickey drives a tractor and sings his version of Old McDonald Had a Farm and replaces E-I-E-I-O, with M-O-U-S-E. Mickey then slips and falls over, but, not to worry. He’s okay.

One thing that makes this vlog a winner is the part where Mickey introduces us to his cow and he moos like a cow and Mickey asked, "How are ya, mooing?", and after mooing like a cow, Mickey explains that cows make dairy products, such as milk and cheese (Mickey is a mouse after all).

Another bright spot is the unexpected appearances of the starfish and the rubber chicken. When Mickey explains that a lot of farm animals eat hay, he introduces us to his horse, Buttercup, his goat and his starfish. When Mickey introduces us to his chickens, the rubber chicken appears and it later reappeared during the chicken dance scene, which is a perfect way to end this farm-themed vlog.

And with nothing else left to say, let’s take a look at some farmyard screenshots. E-I-E-I-O!

So, here’s our mouse farmer, Mickey.

As mentioned before, Mickey sings his version of Old McDonald Had a Farm, which is obviously Mickey’s best line in the entire vlog.

Whenever I think of this vlog, my mind immediately goes to the part where Mickey moos like a cow. How are ya, mooing?

Mickey explains that cows make dairy products, such as milk and cheese. Wow! For a mouse like Mickey, he really likes cheese.

Wow! A horse, a goat and a starfish stacked on top of each other. Now, that’s something you don’t see everyday.

And of course, here’s Mickey introducing us to his chickens, as well as a rubber chicken, a mommy chicken and her baby chicks.

Mickey clucks and squawks like a chicken. This is the first time he does it.

Time to help Mickey feed the chicks!

Wow! When Mickey said the chickens are really great singers, he wasn’t kidding!

And here’s the second time Mickey clucks and squawks like a chicken.

Anyone who remembers the chicken dance would surely remember this vlog.

Wow! Mickey looks like he’s having some farmyard fun today.

Closing Line: "Till next time we can play, have a Mickey-Riffic Day! Old McMickey Had a Farm! M-O-U-S-E!"

#meandmickey

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khadgarbignaturals · 6 months ago

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Do you ever think orcs would be really into pickled stuff/yogurt/anything with good probiotics on azeroth bc their gut microbiomes probably are still adjusting from the diet on draenei to the food available on azeroth

i don’t think orcs care about probiotics or gut microbiomes (at least in general) but they’d love pickles and pickling things. goblins were the pioneers of pickling on azeroth and with their inclusion in the horde pickling took off in orgrimmar. when orcs found out about pickling, they started seeing how many different things they can pickle. i can’t see them liking yogurt/any dairy (a lot of the horde races are lactose intolerant, orcs included). cows milk is definitely not really found in orgrimmar (cows are really only seen in elwynn/other alliance zones). i’m not really well versed on the flora+fauna on draenor so i don’t know know if orcs kept cattle much less what cattle they’d even have access to. a lot of the farms in durotar keep boars which you can’t exactly milk so their diet is pretty meat heavy. boars definitely exist on draenor so i dont think their diet would’ve changed much after coming to azeroth

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kariachi · 10 months ago

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Have some chill fic. The team stop for lunch after work.

“Um, Kev?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought we were going home?”

“After we eat.” The Tennysons shared a look as Kevin parked the car in front of a small, nondescript building on the outskirts of one the small towns they sometimes found themselves driving through. There was an outlet mall-style cheap sign on the front declaring it ‘Joe’s Pit’, picnic tables to one side with some patrons seated, and plywood cut-outs of various farm animals against the walls- one of which had ‘I’m beefalicious’ on it in a child’s scrawl. They could hear dogs barking when they stepped out onto the seemingly recently paved parking lot, and smell wood smoke lingering in the air.

Neither Ben nor Gwen seemed overly impressed.

“We have restaurants back in Bellwood, you know,” Ben pointed out as they headed for the door. Kevin just rolled his eyes.

“This place has five stars on DynaDine,” he said, “and apparently some great fucking lamb and mutton.”

“Who barbecues lamb,” Gwen asked, face screwing as she shared another look with her cousin.

“Too damn few people.”

A bell over the door rung as they entered. Maybe five tables, three of them occupied, took up most of the room, aside from a single counter in the front. The walls were covered in tin cut-outs of farm animals and equipment, photos of various people, some framed some not, and a mural in the back of a man driving a horse-drawn sleigh full of food that had very clearly originally been of Santa Claus. Some country song about gambling was playing, and a big posterboard sign behind the counter declared No Take Out. At the counter was a woman old enough to be their mothers, with a green streak in her hair and a broad grin on her face.

“Hey, how’s it going? I’m Maggie and welcome to Joe’s Pit! Eating in or heading out?”

“Oh, like he’d let food in the car,” Ben said, rolling his eyes and dodging an elbow to the side.

“Hey Maggie!” Kevin threw on a smile like there’d been no commentary. “It’s going good but, we haven’t eaten in at least an hour so…” Maggie laughed.

“Well, we can certainly fix that problem here,” she said, grabbing three paper menus out of a stack. “Any food issues going on?”

“He can’t have peanuts, I can’t have strawberries, and I keep kosher.”

“Alright.” She nodded and grabbed up a marker, popping the cap off with her teeth. “You’re not gonna want these then,” she said as she crossed various items off on one of the menus, “no pork, no dairy.”

“That’s right,” Kevin said with a nod, “and nothing off the ass half of the cow.”

“And nothing from the back end… You’re not gonna want these either, the blueberry sauce has some strawberry to balance it out and the chocolate berry strudel has ‘em too.” Handing the menu off to Kevin, she started work on a second. “And you’re gonna want to avoid some of these desserts. We don’t make ‘em on site, they’re from The Flour Shop in town- left at the third intersection on Main, right at the second turn, you’ll know it when you see it- but some of ‘em Amy likes to put peanuts in for I swear no reason at all.”

“Thanks,” Ben said as he accepted the menu, all of them chuckling. Final menu in hand, Maggie turned her attention to Gwen, who put up a hand.

“I can eat anything,” she said with a smile and a laugh from Maggie.

“Saves me some trouble then,” she said as Gwen took the paper. “You kids gonna eat in here, or sit outside?”

“Yeah, about that,” Ben said, a frown coming over his face, “do you guys have dogs?”

“Oh,” Maggie said, “don’t mind them, they’re loud but they’re friendly, and they can’t get out of their run. There should be plenty of seating away from it if you prefer.” Nodding, the Tennysons looked at each other, gesturing like they were trying to telepathically decide where they were going to sit. Kevin and Maggie watched for several seconds before he just rolled his eyes.

“We’re sitting outside.” The cousins frowned at him, visibly put out that he’d taken charge without them, while Maggie nodded.

“Alright then, I’ll be out to get your orders in a few minutes.”

“Great,” Kevin said, taking a step back that prompted the cousins to head back for the door, “thanks Maggie.”

“Not a problem.”

The bell chimed again as they left, Gwen leading the way as they hooked a hard right towards the tables.

“You know,” Ben said, eyes mostly on the paper in his hand, “I don’t think there’s a single smoothie on this menu.”

“Oh no,” came Kevin’s deadpan response, “the horror.”

True to Maggie’s word, as they entered the picnic area a fenced off spot between the tables and the pits came into view. There were three large dogs inside it, each of which could have been an example image for ‘mutt’ on Wikipedia and each of which was losing their minds barking at them. It was a point of particular focus as they scanned for a place to sit.

“So…” Gwen said, and Kevin shrugged.

“I don’t know about you guys, I like dogs.”

“So we’re sitting by them,” Ben said in a tone somewhere between teasing and griping.

“I’m sitting by them, I don’t know what you guys are doing.” With a sigh and an eye roll Gwen started for the table nearest the chainlink, Kevin smiling brightly at her.

“Why are we going along with this,” she asked.

“Because every time we stop somewhere to eat you guys outvote me,” Kevin said, “and I want lamb, so I’m vetoing your asses.” Shaking her head, she smiled back at him.

“You’re lucky I like you.”

“Trust me, I know.”

The benches on the picnic table were worn smooth, with just the slightest divots where people had sat over and over for however many years it had taken for the thing to turn grey and split at the ends. It was more comfortable than either Tennyson seemed to have expected, and they found themselves relaxing as they sat down. Helping was the fact the dogs stopped barking as soon as Kevin took a seat within arm’s length, instead falling to whining for attention and licking at his fingers as he stuck them through the fence to scratch at their muzzles.

“Don’t think I’ve had actual barbeque since I stopped playing baseball,” Ben noted as he and Gwen started properly scanning their menus. Both ignored Kevin’s sole focus on not-quite baby talking the dogs.

“Emily’s brought back leftovers from a date night one time we have a sleepover,” Gwen said, “and I think that’s the only time I’ve had it.” Face twisting, Ben gaped at her.

“How have you not had barbeque except for one time,” he said. “Kevin’s had enough to have opinions and he hasn’t had shit in life!”

“Mom doesn’t like it,” she said with a shrug. “She doesn’t even like it when dad puts barbeque sauce on grilled chicken.”

“My cousin,” Ben said, shaking his head, “has been deprived. Here-” He leaned over the table to point at an item on her menu. “-grab the combo, some ribs, some chicken, some beef.”

“No lamb,” she said with a smirk, pulling a snicker from Ben.

“If Kevin doesn’t drop some on our plates I’ll be shocked.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll get the combo. Maybe some coleslaw and macaroni. What are you grabbing?”

“I’ve never had a beef rib before, might grab that. Don’t know about sides.”

“Grab the fruit skewer,” Gwen said. Ben raised an eyebrow at her. “I just noticed it, it looks good.” Leaning back in his seat, Ben scanned the menu again.

“How about this, you get the fruit, I’ll get the macaroni, and we can all split one of this chocolate mini bundt cake they’ve got down here.”

“Sounds good to me…”

True to her word, it didn’t take too long for Maggie to come out and track them down, chuckling at Kevin’s intense focus on playing with the dogs right up until Gwen tugged on his sleeve.

“You kids ready to order or can I just get you some drinks,” she asked as Kevin finally took a look at the menu, kind enough to look to Gwen first.

“I’d like an ice tea please,” she said, “with the combo plate, some coleslaw, and one of these fruit skewers.”

“Alright,” Maggie said as she noted it down, “and what do you want on your plate? You can get up to three smoked meats.”

“Can I get the chicken quarter, some spare ribs, and some brisket?”

“Sure thing.” Ben checked the menu again as she turned to him.

“Actually, can I get the burnt ends? With two things of macaroni.”

“Yes, you can. And will you be getting a drink too?” He beamed up at her, setting his menu aside.

“Yeah, a coke’d be great.”

“Okay.” With a quick note, she turned finally to Kevin. “And are you ready?”

“I need the lamb leg,” he said with a nod, “some mutton ribs, and some brisket-”

“If I’d known he was buying the restaurant…”

“-and can I get the corn and veggie skewer for sides?” Chuckling, Maggie took down his order.

“Will those be per meat order, or do you just want the one each?”

“Per order, I’m all my money’s paying for.”

“Smart guy,” she said. “And your drink?”

“A lemonade.”

“Alright then.” Pencil in hand, she counted off everything as she listed them. “One iced tea with combo plate- chicken quarter, spare ribs, and brisket, fruit skewer and coleslaw on the side. One coke with beef ribs, two macaronis on the side. One lamb, one mutton, and one brisket, with three corn, three veggie skewers, and a lemonade. I get everything?”

“If we could have one of those mini bundt cakes too,” Ben added, “the chocolate one?”

“And one chocolate bundt cake.” Still smiling at them, Maggie waited for them all to nod approval before dropping her clipboard to her side. “Alright, I’ll have the drinks out to you in a minute, and your food’ll take a bit longer.”

“Okay,” Kevin said, Gwen quickly following with a-

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be right back.”

Politely, they waited until she had walked away before the cousins rounded on Kevin.

“‘An hour’,” Ben said, grinning as he teased, “dude, have you eaten today?!”

“You don’t see lamb and mutton often,” came the rebuttal alongside a shrug and a smile of Kevin’s own, “I’ve gotta make the most of it.”

“We are not splitting the bill evenly this time,” Gwen laughed, “not a chance.”

“Oh yeah, the one time it’s me instead of Ben upping the charge,” Kevin said, gesturing between the two of them with feigned offense.

“He ups it by like ten bucks, you upped it by thirty.”

“At least,” Ben added, turning to Gwen. “Did you see that part of the menu? I didn’t look, because I care about not spending all our money-”

“I’m not deaf, Ben, I know you were expecting me to share.”

“You’re going to have to- three meals, you won’t be able to fit behind the wheel, we’ll be stuck here overnight.”

“You seriously underestimate me and my car.” Smiling, Gwen shook her head.

“I’m just worried you’re going to rupture something.” Grinning back, Kevin slung an arm around her shoulders and strained to watch Maggie returning with two glasses and a soda can over Ben’s head.

“Well then, you two are just gonna have to try some lamb then, aren’t you?”

It was with groans of satisfaction and stomachs just on the non-painful side of stuffed that they all dropped back into the car, Kevin fitting perfectly fine despite Ben’s teasing.

“I need to bring Julie out here at some point,” Ben said as he adjusted his seatbelt, Gwen looking about ready to take a nap in front of him.

“I vote we make a bi-monthly thing,” she said, “every other week, double date, for the rest of our lives.”

In the driver’s seat, Kevin took advantage of their distraction to pull out his phone, opening up DynaDine and leaving a quick review before they got back on the road.

K11- Subscribed User, Non-Visible Mutations, Food Restrictions Friendly, accommodating service, great food, large portions, cute dogs. 5/5 must visit location. Make sure to get the lamb.

#fanfic #ben 10 #yes i'm tagging

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somethingboutafic · 10 months ago

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Favorites (under 100k)

14/09/2019 by MediaWhore (G) word count: 3,925 In mid-September Harry comes home. A Tired Tired Sea Coda

It's My Pleasure To Introduce You by LoadedGunn (E) word count: 8,284 The AU where Louis is the most helpful sex shop salesperson in the history of sex shops, and Harry really was just looking for a vibrator with simple instructions (yet ended up getting a hands-on demonstration).

It's Thursday, Let's Get (un)Dressed by bananaheathen (E) word count: 9,117 When Louis is peer-pressured into downloading TikTok over the holidays, he fully expects to hate it. And he does hate it. All of it. Well... except for aspiring OOTD influencer, @ harrystyles.

Keep Driving by dead_tobeginwith (M) word count: 11,726 Louis works as a driver contracted through the local cancer institute. All of his clients are associated with the hospital—mostly patients and their families heading home. One rainy afternoon, he picks up Harry.

Talk Dirty To Me by BriaMaria (E) word count: 13,112 The one where Harry is absolutely terrible at dirty talk so he asks his best friend to teach him. And the one where Louis knows it's a catastrophically bad idea but agrees anyway.

Meet Me In The Hallway by bananaheathen (E) word count: 15,846 The sequel where we find out what happens in the New Year after Harry and Louis' one-night stand in It's Thursday.

To Be the Friction in Your Jeans by orphan_account (E) word count: 19,541 Harry is an exhibitionist. He gets up to shenanigans. This is a fill for this prompt at the kink meme: Harry really, really likes to be watched. When they're all lounging around watching TV he'll start kissing Louis and he'll take it as far as he can until Louis makes him stop because the other boys are in the room or drags him away to finish in private. He'll do it wherever - at home, on the bus, in the car, backstage in the dressing room. The boys maybe kind of secretly wish Louis would stop stopping Harry, and maybe one night when they're drunk he does. Except. It got really, really out of control.

Checking Them Out?: How To Use Your Library Science Degree To Get An Alpha by InsightfulInsomniac (E) word count: 19,965 When a flirty, attractive alpha patron checks out an entire shelf of literature on omega behavior and omega rights, Harry can’t help but wonder why the man is so interested — is he a really attentive partner, or is he just a creep? It doesn’t help that this alpha visits weekly to exchange his books… and that he smells absolutely divine. Whether he likes it or not, Harry has a crush.

Ever Since I Tried Your Way by fairytalefemme (E) word count: 25,896 In 1949 Harry left his bride at the altar, running away from the only life he'd known. When a kindhearted farmer offers him a ride in his truck and a place to sleep the two find themselves inexplicably drawn together. Isolated on Louis' farm with nobody but a field of dairy cows to intrude, the men are finally able to explore the parts of themselves they've spent their lives hiding away.

heroes of the orange skies by queenmcgonagall (NR) word count: 30,656 Louis likes bathroom walls and Sharpies, Harry likes metal, Zayn likes Liam and Liam likes Zayn, Niall is wise, and they all go to the zoo.

Listen To Your Heart by lovelarry10 (E) word count: 35,019 Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go. Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.

Bug Boy by FitzAndLarry (M) word count: 36,630 Or the one where Harry is obsessed with bugs and Louis can't wait for them to be Alphas together.

Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by 2tiedships2 (M) word count: 38,065 The one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee (M) word count: 38,825 His mum is going to kill him! Well, not kill him. Just give him a right telling off, make him admit she'd been right, then try to confine him to his room until they found a hefty Alpha to look after him and rein him in or something. She wouldn't manage, of course. Harry is only twenty-four and has no inclination to settle down at all, especially not at the behest of an Alpha. But, as his mum would point out, that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire. His mobile's got no signal, his GPS isn't working, and he's running low on petrol, so he can't even use the heater. Oh, and most importantly, his car is stuck in the mud, so even if the GPS was working and he knew where to go, he wouldn’t be able to. He's been in stickier spots; he reminds himself. Way stickier. This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost. But, hey, there won't be any rain, which is something to cheer about.

bruise you like a peach by falsegoodnight (E) word count: 40,695 There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ. The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person. His name is Louis Tomlinson.

Home calls the heart by Itsmotivatingcara (M) word count: 44,091 A series of unfortunate events lands Louis Tomlinson in the heart of Texas. After running from his life in London and a performative marriage, he leaves a scandal in his wake. Home calls the heart, as his Nana always said. Though her words couldn't be truer when he decides to take up her offer to watch over Hyacinth ranch while she travels abroad. He figured the worst he'd have to deal with would be the meddlesome goats, some repairs and an errant spirit or two. That is, until the gorgeous Cowboy next door makes his presence known. or a romcom au.

Faking It by TheCellarDoor (M) word count: 46,173 Harry pretends to date his best friend to escape unwanted attention from a too insistent classmate and hopes it won’t blow up in his face. Featuring embarrassing dildo accidents, awkward boners, longing, first times, late night conversations, emotional discoveries and Niall as the exasperated friend with bad advice.

Core 'ngrato by Velvetoscar (NR) word count: 49,626 It's been over a year since Louis broke up with Harry and Harry still believes in forever. And maybe the world does, too.

every universe but ours by 28finelines (E) word count: 49,843 louis and harry have been friends with benefits for going on nine years, until a woman claiming to be louis’ fairy godmother decides to send him into a variety of alternate universes to help him find his soulmate.

Homegrown by casuallyhl (E) word count: 51,406 A gardening AU where Harry is new to town and the newest volunteer at the local gardening club, Louis is the attractive grandson of one of the members, and the nosy volunteers hatch a plan to get them together.

with blood and soft stitches by bravestyles (NR) word count: 57,714 After a failed suicide attempt and a three month long coma, Harry wakes up.

Little by Little by nonsensedarling (E) word count: 65,589 Harry Styles is an omega who works at the London Planetarium, has lived in the same flat for ages, and is happy enough on his own. When he gets home from his first (horrible) attempt at dating in years, a new pregnant neighbor knocks on his door after smelling his cooking. He and Louis quickly become close, but their friendship gets complicated when Harry begins questioning who he is and what he likes. Or Harry discovers figuring out who you are is more complicated than a potato metaphor.

sleeping on our problems by falsegoodnight (E) word count: 67,429 Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

Chasing Empty Spaces by Lis(domesticharry) (E) word count: 79,028 The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

Atlas At Last by louisandthealien (M) word count: 83,037 Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall. It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

we are ghosts amongst these hills by orphan_account (M) word count: 84,172 Harry spontaneously buys a house in Yorkshire because the universe, or fate, keeps leading him to it. What he didn’t know, is that his new house comes with a past that seems to be mysteriously tied to his own life. Before he knows it he finds himself travelling back in time, stuck in the middle of a century old love story. Featuring Louis as a farmer with a passion for gardening, Zayn as the heir to the local manor, Niall as a pub owner with a secret, and a truly underappreciated Liam. Based on Mariana by Susanna Kearsley

knock knock, i love you by beautlouis (E) word count: 86,066 Harry and Louis get kicked out of a statistics exam for passing a knock knock joke note, and subsequently fall in love. Harry's a virgin, there's a cat, a hot cocoa date, a lot of sex, even more knock knock jokes, and everything is lovely and happy.

Home For The Holiday by Larrysmomfics (M) word count: 86,791 A "The Holiday" inspired AU where Harry meets Louis after agreeing to swap houses with a stranger on the internet for three weeks over the holidays.

Switch Out The Batteries by istajmaal, LoadedGunn (E) word count: 88,302 Two years after meeting in a sex shop, Harry's just returning to Louis from a month-long tour in the States, and they come up with a wholesome bonding exercise.

Stranger Than Larry Fiction by Larrysmomfics (M) word count: 90,736 A canon-divergent AU where Louis and Harry read Larry Stylinson fanfiction.

You've Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey (E) word count: 95,417 Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

Red Brick Heart by hazmesentir (E) word count: 98,194 Uni AU. Harry had turned up at the halls of residence expecting fun, new friends, and maybe a life experience or two. What he doesn't expect is a surprise roommate who's loud and dramatic and obsessed with tea and is maybe, actually, all he's ever wanted.

#larry fic rec #my faves #larry stylinson #larry fanfiction #larry fic

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master-john-uk · 2 years ago

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Thanks for answering my question. We need to eat but I do hope the lambs are treated well during their short lives and the killing isn't cruel.

We treat and look after all our farm animals in the best possible way, and regularly review our farming methods to see if there is anything we could improve.

When I took over the farm we had several pigs which were kept in small pens under the cover of an open barn. Although this was common farm practice at the time, I personally thought the small pens with little room for exercise were cruel and inhumane. So, we stopped keeping pigs. Twelve years later in 2021, we reintroduced pigs to the farm, but they are kept in a free-range enclosure which includes some woodland, and the pigs are free to roam.

When I bought the neighbouring dairy farm in 2018, it followed the standard practice of separating calves from their mothers very shortly after birth. I was never comfortable with this, although there are some plausible arguments in favour of it. After I did some research and sought advice from other farmers, vets and animal welfare experts, we changed this policy. Except in exceptional circumstances, the young calves stay with their mothers until they are older and start showing signs of independence. We only started doing this last year, and I am not yet sure how long this generally takes. This has reduced profits from the dairy, as the mother cow is out of the milk production chain for a longer period, but to my mind it is worth it to make sure all the cows are happy.

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howdy-cowpoke · 1 year ago

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: Prickly Pear Acres PARTIES: Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) & Felix (@recoveringdreamer) SUMMARY: Felix comes to the farm to visit some goats and chaos ensues when a lapir arrives on the scene to munch on some cows. Between Felix and all the farm hands they’re able to bring it down, but not without consequences for one distraught Monty. CONTENT WARNINGS: Gun use

—

After a stressful few weeks (or months, or years, or life, really, because fuck this whole town), Felix was looking forward to a nice, relaxing afternoon of just… looking at goats. Monty seemed like their kind of person when they’d spoken to him online, easygoing and friendly and kind in a way people often weren’t, and Felix wouldn’t pass up the chance to hang out with someone who might end up becoming a new friend. Especially not when said person had a farm full of animals he was willing to let Felix hang out on.

The balam stood in the goat pin now, grinning down at a fluffy, unsteady kid. “How old is this one?” They asked, turning to glance back at the farmer. “Looks like he barely knows how to walk, poor little guy.” They reached down, earning a headbutt against their palm. Laughing, they shook their head. “That’s not how you make friends, buddy.”

The sun was low in the sky; some might find the later hour strange for a hangout, but Felix ‘worked nights’ and Monty seemed fine with it. The farm seemed relatively active at this hour, too; Felix had seen a few farmhands wandering about.

Straightening their back, they turned towards Monty with a small smile. “I really appreciate you letting me come out here, man. I, uh, I think I needed this. Things have been kind of rough lately, and baby goats really…” The goats in the pin began shifting, some strange panic seeming to wash over them. Felix wondered, faintly, if they’d sensed the jaguar somehow, but animals weren’t usually afraid of him. In the fields, a few cows seemed on edge, too. Anxiety even crawled down Felix’s spine, though he couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. “Hey, do you… feel weird?”

—

Monty was seriously starting to wonder if animal therapy might be a worthwhile venture for the farm, if they ever decided to stray from dairy, or even add on to it. In this town, it seemed like there were more stressed out people that just needed to hold a lamb in their lap while bottle feeding it, or get themselves headbutted by little goats just to feel better, than he’d ever seen in one place. Which… made sense, when you considered what living in Wicked’s Rest was like.

Official or not, he was always happy to have someone over to play with the animals, so long as they weren’t that wretched young woman that liked to steal clothes and pretend to kill goats. It was good for the people and good for the animals. And night visits were definitely not uncommon around Prickly Pear Acres, so the evening hour had done nothing to dissuade Monty from inviting Felix over. They seemed like a very sweet, thoughtful, and kind sort of person, which felt in short supply these days. It was a relief, actually, to find that they were just the same in person as they had been online. And the cowboy couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he watched them interact with the animals, not that he would’ve wanted to, anyway.

As they conversed in Spanish, Felix thanking Monty for letting them come to the farm and mentioning how they’d been having a rough time lately, the cowboy offered a sympathetic smile. Before he could respond, though, the behavior of the goats around them suddenly changed, and even Felix seemed to be set on edge. They asked if Monty felt weird, and the farmer shook his head. “Ah… no? I feel fine,” he answered with concern in his voice, glancing around them. The moos from the pasture had grown in volume and frequency, and—there was a great, shrill screech from outside the barn, and Monty gasped aloud before scrambling to his feet. “What the heck!?” He looked to Felix in a mild state of shock before his gaze bounced around to all the goats that were now huddling in one corner of the pen, as far away from the sound as they could get. His attention fell to the gate, which he unlatched as he motioned for his new friend to follow. And though every instinct was telling him not to, he moved in the direction of the sound, knowing that he couldn’t just leave his herd out there to whatever fate was befalling them.

Grabbing a rifle from a wall hook as they passed by, Monty snatched up the box of ammo that sat nearby and started to load the gun, his eyes scanning the pastures that stretched out in front of them.

The cows were running from something, and he could hear the angry bellowing of the two catoblepones that guarded the herd as they fought something unseen, for the moment. In the chaos, he couldn’t even spot the supernatural bulls, but started making his way toward the pasture. Oh. Right, Felix. Monty turned to look at them, clearly shaken. “You can—you do not have to come, Felix. You can go up to the main house.” There were other hands running toward them, coming to see what all the commotion was and help if they could.

—

Monty said he felt fine, and Felix might have wondered if the strange way their heart was pounding in their chest was just their own special brand of ‘issue’ if not for the fact that the animals seemed to be freaking out, too. The jaguar stirred within them, aware and present in a way he usually wasn’t when no part of Felix was shifted. It felt like a subtle confirmation — whatever Felix was feeling, it was animalistic. That was why the goats felt it, too.

But they couldn’t say that, of course. They were here as a normal guy who just wanted to see some goats, not as a balam. (Would Monty have even invited them onto the farm if he’d known they were a balam? If he knew what a balam was at all, he might not want one around his livestock. Felix had a pretty good hold on their jaguar, but wildcats and livestock often didn’t mix well, in most people’s experience.) So, rather than try to think of some creative explanation or tell Monty the truth, Felix only shrugged. They stroked the kid they’d been playing with absently, trying to calm him down, but he was clearly in no mood to be placated. And, moments later, it became clear just why that was.

The screech was loud, echoing through the air around the farm like a crack of thunder. The baby goat shot out of Felix’s arms to retreat with the rest of them, scrambling and trembling in response to the sound. Monty moved, and Felix followed, unsure what else to do. The jaguar inside of them was close to the surface now, practically demanding to be freed in order to deal with the threat, and they struggled to keep him at bay. Fingers shifted into claws, and Felix curled their hands into fists to hide the transformation.

Monty grabbed a gun and some ammo, and Felix stuck close to his side as he moved out towards the pasture. The cows, like the goats in the pin and the jaguar in Felix’s chest, were reacting to whatever it was they felt and heard, running for cover. Someone was fighting something; it sounded chaotic. Worse, it sounded like they might not be winning.

Felix steeled themself, shaking their head when Monty offered them an out. “No. No, I want to help. I’m good in a fight — and it sounds like you guys could use all the spare hands you can find.” It was rare that Felix was given the opportunity to choose to fight something; in most cases, he was either thrust into it by the circumstances or forced to do so by his contract with the Grit Pit. The fact that Monty was offering to let him go to the main house and wait it out, the fact that someone was offering protection instead of violence… It was something Felix hadn’t felt in a very long time. And it was nice. Just having it offered to them was nice. Monty was a good man; that was all the more reason to say no to the offer. Felix didn’t want Monty or his livestock to be hurt when they could help prevent it. So… “Tell me where you need me.”

—

Brow furrowed, the cowboy looked worried, but knew better than to tell someone whether or not they could handle themselves. “Okay, if you’re sure,” he agreed with a nod, loading the rifle as he spoke. A few of the other workers came to a stop near the pair while more continued right on down to the pasture—none of them really feared for their lives, since it would take a considerable amount of damage to kill them. Not that anyone wanted to be maimed, Monty least of all, but their livestock was worth the risk.

Gun loaded, Monty slung it over his shoulder and turned to Francisco, one of the hands that’d stopped just shy of them, and nodded at the cabin where Daisy lived. “Go get the bag from the chest in Daisy’s cabin,” he instructed. “Bring it to the fence. We might need something besides this gun.” You could never tell with these things, and while Monty didn’t know a great deal about other supernatural flora and fauna, he knew enough basic tactics to keep his herds safe from attacks. Everyone else seemed to have armed themselves with an assortment of farm equipment, as that was what tended to be on hand. It was better than nothing, anyway. “Come,” Monty said to Felix as he led him to a different pasture, heading for the gate. Bringing a hand to his mouth and using his fingers to let loose a deafeningly loud whistle, the cowboy unlatched the gate and let it swing open. The thunderous sound of hooves met their ears, and up the slope came Habanero, answering the call of his best friend. The horse met them at the gate and Monty instructed Felix to climb on up using the fence—there was no time for anything else. Unfortunately he lacked a saddle, but there was at least a lead slipped over his head, giving Monty something to hang on to as he situated himself just behind the animal’s withers.

“If you are good in a fight, then we need to get in there, and fast,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Felix. “Hold on to me, this is going to be bumpy.” As soon as he felt the other’s arms wrap around his middle, he gave Habanero’s sides a kick and they were off. As they approached the pasture where the fighting was happening, he shouted for someone to open the gate. Beth complied, running it out of the way as the pair galloped past on the horse and into the panicked herd of cattle.

The cows steered clear of Habanero as he barrelled down on them, and in the parting of the black and brown and white sea, their adversary was presented to them.

One catoblepas was already dead, and the other was fighting for his life against a… a… what the hell was that? It looked like a massive… bat? It was easily the same size as the catoblepas currently trying to hook it with his horns, maybe even a bit bigger. Just then, it leaped into the air and spread a pair of massive, leathery wings, taking flight. For a moment, Monty hoped that this was over. But… no, of course not. Just as soon as it had gained some altitude, it swept down low, clawed feet grabbing at the remaining catoblepas and lifting it a few feet into the air before dropping it again.

Habanero slowed down instinctively and Monty drew his weapon, cocking it and tracking the beast in the air for a few seconds before firing. He hit it, and its attention immediately turned to them. Shit. It was diving again, and Monty was firing again, but that didn’t seem to even slow it down. Shit.

—

“Sure I’m sure,” Felix replied, and despite their typically anxious nature, the confidence wasn’t feigned. Whatever was happening was clearly supernatural; in a way, that made it make more sense than it might have had the enemy been more mundane in nature. Thanks to the Grit Pit, Felix had… experience with fighting plenty of different supernatural things. They didn’t always know what they were called, of course — no one tended to give them a vocabulary quiz before sending them into the ring — but they knew enough to know how to be useful. And right now, they wanted to be useful. This wasn’t like in the Pit, when they had to fight whether they wanted to or not, when they were only fighting for the entertainment of people with thick wallets and low impulse control. This was their choice. And they were choosing to help Monty. It actually felt pretty good.

The cowboy whistled, and a horse came up to meet them. It was pretty; had there not been a whole ‘situation’ going on, Felix might have commented on it, might have stopped to admire it. But there was no time for that now, they knew. When this was over, hopefully they’d have plenty of time to tell Monty how cool his horse was. For now, all they could do was climb on the animal’s back and try very hard not to think about the fact that they’d never actually ridden a horse before. It was fine. Monty was going to do all the work. All Felix had to do was hold on.

They wrapped their arms around Monty, gripping him… maybe a little too tightly. It was almost comical — there was something attacking Monty’s farm and eating his cattle, and Felix was more nervous about the prospect of riding a horse than they were about fighting the creature. Luckily, though, Monty knew what he was doing. The ride was bumpy, as he’d warned it would be, but Felix didn’t feel as if they were in any danger of being thrown from the proverbial saddle. (Would this be easier if there were a literal saddle? Probably!)

Felix sucked in a sharp breath as they approached, the creature in the sky finally coming into view. They’d never fought one of these in the Pit; they had no idea if anyone else had, either. Not for the first time, they found themself sort of wishing that the fighters in the Pit spoke to one another just a little bit more. Sharing strategies would be helpful, especially in situations like this one. “That’s big,” Felix commented needlessly. Monty already knew it was big. Monty was looking at it, too. Watching as it swooped down and picked up… whatever cattle Monty had on his farm. They weren’t normal cows, but it was a little difficult to focus on that right now.

“I don’t know if that’s going to —” Felix winced as Monty pulled the trigger, the sound of the gun firing loud in a sea of already loud noises. The jaguar stirred, already on edge due to the situation but clearly even less pleased at the addition of the gun firing. Felix swallowed as the creature turned its sights on the pair on the horse rather than the cows. “Um, it looks like — We need a plan? Do you know what that thing is?” Given the fact that he had cows that weren’t cows, Felix was willing to guess that Monty knew about supernatural stuff. So, willing to chance it, they added hesitantly, “Some kind of vampire, maybe?”

—

“No clue. But… vampire, yeah. Probably.” He grimaced, grabbing a fistful of Habanero’s mane again as he kicked his sides, sending them running once more. “Right! A plan!” He didn’t know what the fuck to do. “I have some things that might work in the bag I sent Francisco after,” he shouted over his shoulder as they galloped, drawing the creature away from the herd while some other hands moved to guide them out of the pasture they were otherwise trapped in. “We’ll have to get that—” The bat-like creature dove for them and Monty gave Habanero another swift kick before holding on for dear life with his legs, releasing the horse’s mane to twist back around and take aim with the rifle, obviously waiting until Felix had ducked out of the way before firing. It clipped the creature in the head, encouraging it to let loose a horrible sound as it crashed to the ground.

“When you said you were good in a fight, amigo, how exactly did you mean?” Monty asked, glancing between Felix and the beast that was trying to get back to its feet. “I need to go get that bag. If you think you can keep it on the ground for a couple minutes—”

—

Monty’s words confirmed Felix’s suspicion that he knew a little about what went on behind the scenes in Wicked’s Rest, and that was good. Things like this were a lot harder when you had to navigate both the monster and introduce someone to the world from which it came. Of course, the ideal scenario would have seen Monty knowing exactly what kind of vampire it was and how to kill it, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, right? Vampires weren’t something Felix was overtly familiar with, but they were pretty sure that most of them were ‘poke it with a wooden stick or cut its head off’ kind of rules. That’d probably work here, right? Unless they could scare it away somehow.

Felix let out a rather undignified squeak as the vampire thing dove for them, clinging to Monty as he steered the horse in a different direction to avoid it. It was a struggle to keep the jaguar at bay, because he wanted out. As always, he saw the danger they were in and wanted to take care of it his way… but his way would mean putting Monty and his farmhands in danger, too. The jaguar always took things a hair too far when it came to protection, and Felix wasn’t going to let Monty or his staff get hurt.

But they still needed to do something. They wouldn’t let the jaguar out all the way… but maybe a little bit would help. Hesitating for a moment, Felix studied Monty carefully. He was a nice man. He’d been kind to Felix. His heart wasn’t beating. There was no danger in exposing themself here, was there? Carefully, Felix held out a hand and let it shift, claws sharp and dangerous at the ends of their fingers. “I mean like this,” they said with a sheepish smile. “I can fight. I’m a good fighter. I can hold it off long enough for you to get what we need.”

—

Looking from the hand where sharp claws had grown and then back up to Felix’s face, Monty smiled appreciatively. “Dios te bendiga,” he muttered, giving Felix a gentle pat on the shoulder before swinging Habanero back around to ride them closer to the beast in the grass. “All right—you keep the creature on the ground, and I will fetch Francisco.” It was as good a plan as they could have, really, given the urgency of the situation. Thankfully for Felix, it looked like the creature was a bit clumsy on the ground, stumbling around as it tried to shake off the gunshot to the head.

Monty slowed the horse down enough for Felix to hop off, then they booked it back toward the fence. He could see Francisco running his way, old leather satchel in hand, and breathed a sigh of relief. A concerned glance was thrown in Felix's direction as he came to a stop at the fence, hand outstretched to take the bag.

Inside was a smattering of monster-hunting paraphernalia, and despite vampires being something like kin to them, there was holy water, a cross, and of course, a stake. He couldn't be too careful, after all, though this was fully intended for use on creatures only. He'd much sooner try to talk a humanoid vampire out of whatever trouble they were causing rather than stake them. He wasn't like those fucking hunters.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, Monty said a very quick thank you to Francisco before galloping back to where Felix was battling the creature, keeping it from taking off again and honestly? Doing a great job of it. Monty was impressed, but that praise would have to come later once this thing was lifeless. He stopped Habanero a safe distance away from the fray, hopped down, and smacked the horse on his flank to send him running away, back toward the gate that led into this pasture. The ground was dotted with a few dead or dying cows and one catoblepas, the other having... gotten away, evidently. With anger settling into his expression, Monty hurried on his way toward Felix. Now that the rest of the herd was safely moved, more farm hands were coming to help, descending upon the scene of the fight with their makeshift weapons.

Monty pulled out the holy water, uncapping it and getting himself in right beside Felix, ducking out of the way of an angry snap of the creature's jaws and then dousing its head in the liquid. It shrieked and reared back, smoke or steam or something billowing off of it.

—

Monty smiled, and any remaining apprehension Felix might have been carrying melted away all at once. Of course Monty wouldn’t recoil at the sight of their claws. Of course not. Felix had no idea if Monty knew what a balam was, but it was clear he wouldn’t judge or fear them for being one. And Felix, who had never seen fit to judge themself for what they were either, found some comfort in that. Even if you were comfortable with what you were, it still felt like a slap in the face when someone you thought you could trust wasn’t, and they were relieved to know they’d receive no such thing from Monty. Not surprised, because nothing about Monty suggested that he’d be that way, but relieved all the same.

They nodded once at the cowboy’s instruction, hopping off the horse and landing — unsurprisingly — on their feet. Cats, and all that. Monty and his horse galloped off, leaving Felix standing in front of the creature with a look of determination on their face. It was big.

They’d fought bigger.

The creature lunged for them, and Felix danced out of the way. They’d always been light on their feet. While their siblings and father often fought like feral animals, Felix carried a little more grace to how they moved. The movements were inhuman, still, but more catlike than blunt force. They moved on the balls of their feet, ducking another swipe and returning it with one of their own. They targeted the wings. The thing was clearly less competent on the ground than it was in the sky, and shredding its wings would take away a significant portion of its advantage.

Claws found the ‘seams’ of the wings, slicing everything they could get close to. Fighting sentient things made Felix feel guilty for days after. In the ring, even fighting less humanoid creatures carried an air of shame to it, because it wasn’t like those things got any say in what was happening. But out here? To protect Monty’s farm and the people on it? There was no shame in this. For once, for once, this fight made Felix feel good. Proud, even.

As they fought, they shifted a little more to compensate for the mismatch between themself and their opponent. They needed the jaguar’s strength, his senses, his anger. And the jaguar, for his part, seemed to enjoy it. He didn’t like fighting in the ring, Felix knew, didn’t like the confined feeling to it, but he liked this. It was something both spirits inhabiting the body could agree on.

By the time Monty returned, Felix was in a half-shifted state, not quite human but not quite animal, either. They turned to spot their friend, flashing a fanged smile. They pounced as the cowboy threw the holy water, sinking in claws to where the liquid had burned the creature and dragging them down until they came loose. The balam jumped back to avoid a swinging limb, landing next to Monty. “What do we do?”

—

Okay, so if the fact that it was a massive bat didn’t already confirm it, the holy water doing what it did absolutely confirmed that this was, in fact, a vampire. And as much as he hated to have the things lying around, the wooden stake he pulled out of his satchel was probably going to be the thing that did it.

Monty looked to Felix, the discomfort with the situation evident on his face, but so too was the anger over what this thing had done to his animals. “If it’s a vampire, then staking it in the heart should do the trick,” he explained, moving back a step further as the creature pivoted wildly on the spot, lashing out at the farm hands that were circling around it now, poking and prodding with their tools to keep it distracted. “Of course, I don’t know if anyone here is strong enough to do that…” It was clear that the creature could take a lot of damage, if a rifle shot straight to the head hadn’t downed it more permanently. “But I will try,” he added with a resolved nod, refusing to let someone else attempt it in his stead.

Together, they all made nicks and cuts here and there, keeping the lapir’s head on a swivel. Felix was certainly doing the most work, much more outfitted for this sort of thing than the rest of the hands, but they made sure that the monster didn’t spend too much time focusing on their visitor. At some point, Monty slipped beneath its wing, stake in hand, trying to figure out where its heart would be before he attempted to get past the ribcage. At first, it worked—the monster hadn’t noticed, still fumbling around with the rest of them, turning and snapping and screeching something horrible. But then it realized there was a bug beneath its massive underbelly and hissed ferociously, rearing back to better see the pest before lunging at him. Its fangs found purchase on Monty’s non-dominant arm and he gasped in shock, having no time to react before it was biting down hard, and shaking its head like a dog with a chew toy.

Monty was thrown to the ground, and he realized with a stupid, surprised sort of groan that his arm was still hanging from the beast’s jaws. It hurt, probably not as much as it should have, but that was the least of his worries. His body immediately began the regeneration process, fully sapping him of his alertness and blanketing his mind in a thick haze. He slumped into the grass while the creature stood over him, still battling the farm hands and Felix, dropping its prize to the earth to better bite at the rest of them.

—

“Monty…” Felix wasn’t sure they liked the idea of Monty being the one to carry the weight of the stake, even if they didn’t really want to do it themself, either. They were a good fighter. They knew that. If they weren’t, they’d have a lot less problems and a lot more freedom. But being a good fighter didn’t make them fearless; in fact, some days, it felt as if being a good fighter made them anything but that. They wanted to ask if there was someone else who might be able to do this, if one of Monty’s men might have some desire to do it in his stead, but they knew what the answer would be. Monty was a good man. Too good a man to let anyone else take the burden from his hands.

So, Felix would lighten it in any way they could. They’d slash at legs and wings and anything that came close enough to their claws to meet the wrong end of them. They’d pounce back to avoid hits themself, they’d lose themself in the fight the same way they did in the ring. They’d remind themself, over and over, that this was different than that. In this fight, they were doing something necessary. In this fight, they could be proud when they won. In this fight, they had allies.

One of whom had just had his arm ripped from his body.

The sound Felix let out was far from human, more of a yowl than a yell. Monty was still moving — of course he was. There was no heartbeat, Felix had clocked it before. Monty was undead, and he was in no danger of bleeding out. But there was still something terrifying about seeing your friend’s arm ripped away from his body, and Felix couldn’t help but respond with anger.

They didn’t get angry often. They tried to avoid it as much as they could, tried to push it away. Their father was an angry man. Leo was an angry man. Felix didn’t particularly want to be an angry person themself, didn’t want to mirror people who’d hurt them even if some of that pain had been entirely unintentional. But it was hard not to be angry now, hard not to let the feeling rise up in their chest. Hard not to let the jaguar rise up with it.

Monty’s arm was already growing back, letting Felix in on what kind of undead he might be, but Felix was hardly paying attention now. Instead, they were launching themself towards the beast, claws at the ready. They wouldn’t let it go after Monty while he was down.

—

His right hand still clutched the stake, and Monty turned his head in the grass to look at it numbly. Why did he have this, again? The large figure over the top of him didn’t immediately remind him, which was saying something about his mental state, but it did slowly start to come back. Too slowly. He was aware of that. Something was… wrong. Or.. was it? Huh. He couldn’t quite finish his thoughts, trailing off somewhere in the middle, distracted by how hungry he felt. Normally that would have been extremely alarming for the cowboy, but he didn’t have the capacity to be alarmed by it right now. Everything was too… foggy.

The lapir tried to take off again but could get nowhere thanks to the bloody gashes in its wings, instead hobbling around on the ground, trying to keep the balam and other zombies off of it as it stomped around in a tight circle. Its foot ran into something and it jerked its head down, seeing Monty laying there uselessly. Angry that it couldn’t flee, it decided to take it out on the one creature not fighting back and scooped Monty up in its mouth, sinking its teeth into his abdomen and chest.

The additional damage only made Monty’s confusion worse, but it did also present an immediate threat that helped him remember what the hell he’d been trying to do in the first place. With renewed purpose, the zombie reared his good arm back and stabbed the lapir in the eye with the stake, making sure to hold onto it as he ripped it back out and was dropped to the ground as the creature shrieked bloody murder. Wasting no time now, realizing his predicament and understanding that there was limited time, Monty hurried to his feet and just went for it, throwing himself at the creature, stake at the ready.

The first one didn’t quite make it, but he was feeling angrier and hungrier by the second as his body repaired all the wounds. So he reared back one last time and drove the stake home, cracking past bone and sinking it into the creature’s heart. It immediately went silent and collapsed, and Monty barely had time to get out of the way. Though it might’ve been better if he’d been able to be pinned, because now when his gaze fell on Felix, his eyes were milky and his expression unfamiliar. He lurched forward toward his friend, fighting his way through the farm hands that tried to grab at him to stop him. They didn’t interest him as much as the living, breathing Felix, and he was much stronger than they were, now.

—

The bat creature scooped Monty up in its jowls, and Felix let out a startled cry. Monty was… durable, to be sure, but if that thing ate him? Felix got the feeling he’d have a hard time getting out of that particular situation. The balam reared back, ready to launch themself up at the monster’s face, ready to fully shift if they needed to and trust that the farmhands would stop them from hurting anyone besides the lapir, but it wasn’t necessary. Monty, with a newfound strength, fought back against the creature.

Felix watched the cowboy shove his stake into the bat’s eye, watched him pull it back and sink it into the vampire’s chest instead. A grin spread across the balam’s face as that second strike found its home in the lapir’s heart, sending it collapsing with a shrill cry and dissolving into dust soon after. They’d done it! Or… Monty had done it, really. Victory tasted sweet.

But not for long.

Because Monty, now on the ground with his feet beneath him, was looking at Felix like they were his next meal. Felix stumbled back, eyes wide. “Monty?” Their voice was small, cautious. It didn’t seem to reach the cowboy’s ears at all. It was like Felix hadn’t spoken, like they weren’t there at all. It felt painfully similar to being in the ring with Razor; like their friend was absent, and what had taken his place was nothing but hunger.

One of the farmhands met Felix’s wide eyes, trying desperately to hold Monty back. “Run,” he breathed, and Felix did. They turned, taking off into the cowfield as fast as they could manage.

—

Fighting off the other zombies only got easier the longer Monty went without his feral craving sated, and he broke away from them to pursue Felix before the balam had even managed to get much of a head start. He was quiet as he ran, a silent, swift predator save for the sound of his feet pounding through the grass. He was gaining on them, eyes on the prize, his singular goal pushing every other thought from his mind.

Remaining hand outstretched, the deader-than-usual cowboy tried to snatch whatever part of Felix was closest, swiping at them and missing twice before putting more oomph behind his speed. They were coming up on the fence now, running parallel to it. In the distance, Daisy had mounted a horse and was galloping toward them as fast as she could.

Bone and muscle and sinew stitched itself together, fixing the holes in his abdomen and creeping from the stump of his shoulder, the skinless appendage joining the first in trying to catch Felix as soon as it had fingers again. They were closer, closer, and then—

A female voice shouted something, and suddenly Monty was crashing down into the dirt. He flailed wildly, finally releasing a frighteningly inhuman howl, attention ripped from the fleeing meal to the rope around his neck. Daisy stood over him a few seconds later though he did not recognize her, snapping at her as she dropped a knee onto his chest and pressed his head into the grass with a hand to his forehead. She pulled something from her bag—the moment she’d seen Monty’s arm get ripped off, she’d left the scene of the battle to go back up to the house and get the brown paper package from the fridge. They all knew how this sort of thing went. Setting the package on the ground, she used her free hand to rip a piece of gray matter off the rest of the mass, shouting at her friend to be still as he grabbed onto her and tried to fight her off.

“Felix!” she yelled, “Are you okay?!” The brain matter was finally wrestled into Monty’s mouth and the zombie relaxed a smidge, but still was clearly not having a good time. She went in for another piece, throwing a worried look in the balam’s direction. “It’s okay—I’m sorry, we just gotta—eat, you stubborn fuckin’ bastard,” she growled, getting one last piece between his gnashing teeth before she was thrown off of him. Monty scrambled onto his hands and knees, now snatching up the package as he realized what was inside, and tucking in, wholly absorbed in the act of consuming.

Daisy beckoned Felix over, sitting back in the grass and watching her friend devour what was left of the brain, shaking her head. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry that happened. Don’t you worry, he’ll be right as rain soon enough. You alright?”

—

They were afraid. It felt like a physical thing, as tangible as the cowboy snapping at their heels. They were afraid of what might happen if those teeth found flesh, afraid of the pain it would bring with it. They still remembered the way it felt when Razor ripped off a chunk of their arm, still felt an ache there even now that the ugly wound had become a fresh, ugly scar. They didn’t want a repeat of that, didn’t want to see more of themself swallowed down someone else’s throat.

But there was more to it than that, too. Felix wasn’t only afraid for themself, wasn’t only afraid of the physical pain or the things that would come with it. They were afraid for Monty, too. They were afraid of the look he’d get in his eye after, of the guilt that would build there. Samir still couldn’t look at them the same, still looked pained and haunted when they caught sight of him in the halls at work. If Monty hurt Felix, he would hate himself. And he didn’t deserve to hate himself; Felix wasn’t sure anyone did.

They heard the sound of pounding hooves behind them, felt a mixture of relief that help had come and fear that it may have come too late. Teeth were still clicking and gnashing behind them, feet still pounding. And then, they weren’t. That physical presence behind Felix vanished. They kept running anyway, continued a few feet until Daisy’s voice called after them. The sound of their name sent them to a stumbling stop.

It was lucky, they thought, that they’d already been half-shifted when the chase began; they may not have been able to outrun Monty otherwise. They felt tired, but not as tired as they likely should have. The mixture of adrenaline and the jaguar’s spirit surging through them made the run less taxing than it would have been for a human.

Hesitantly, Felix circled back around, standing a few feet away as Daisy shoveled what they could only assume were brains into Monty’s mouth. “I’m okay,” they said quietly. “I’m — He’ll really be all right? He’s — You’ll make sure he knows I’m not mad, right? Or, or scared of him or anything. I’m okay. He’ll know that?”

—

Getting back to her feet while Monty was distracted, Daisy clapped a hand gently to Felix’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, sugar,” she offered them with a soft, understanding smile. Then, with the air of someone performing a task they didn’t like but one that had to be done, the woman approached her feral friend, gathering some length of the rope lassoed around his neck and reaching for his shoulder. He jerked away from her touch and growled, twisting himself around to reach for her, which told her about all she needed to know regarding his mental state. With a sigh, Daisy frowned and stepped out of the way, then lifted her boot to his back and shoved him back down into the grass. The following motion to bind his hands behind his back with the same piece of rope was practiced, done easily and so quickly it gave Monty no time to wrestle himself away from her. What remained of the lead was walked over to the fence, where she tied it around one of the sturdy posts.

“C’mon. We’ll let him sit out here a while, get it out of his system.” She nodded back the way they’d come and whistled for her horse to come as they started to walk up to the main barn. “Don’t worry about Monty, really—” She hadn’t known Felix long, but could tell that they seemed like the sensitive type, “—he’ll be himself in a couple hours. This ain’t the first time we’ve had to deal with someone goin’ feral on the farm before. He knows the drill.” She cast a glance over her shoulder at her friend who seemed to have resigned himself to his fate, flopped over in the grass and staring blankly into the distance, the brown paper package now empty.

“Thanks for your help with the… whatever the hell that thing was. If you hadn’t held it off like you did, I reckon we woulda lost a lot more cattle. We owe you, Felix, sincerely.” She smiled warmly, but there was a tinge of sadness in her bright eyes. “Might be best you run on home, darlin’. You’ve helped more than enough for one day. And… I’ll make sure mister Rivera knows how you feel. Promise.”

—

It was so strange, seeing Monty like this. Felix knew, of course, that hunger could do to the undead what fear did to them. Made them something they weren’t, something dangerous. If the jaguar was Felix’s feral cross to bear, then this was Monty’s. And they hated it for him, hated to see him this way, but there was little they could do. Daisy had it handled, anyway, had a system in place that told Felix that this was an expected sort of outcome. It didn’t make it feel any less strange. They doubted anything could do that.

They stared at Monty as Daisy secured him, unable to look away. Was this what they were like, they wondered, when the jaguar took hold? Not in look, of course, but in action? Their jaguar was so angry these days, so feral. The roles here could have become reversed so easily. Felix knew that.

“I…” They didn’t want to leave. They didn’t want to walk away, were afraid what Monty might think if they did. Would he assume they were angry with him, that they hated him now? It’s what Felix would have thought, if the roles had been reversed. And they didn’t want that, didn’t want Monty to feel guilty for something that wasn’t his fault. But… they knew staying was just as bad a plan. There was a heart beating in their chest, something that made them just about the only person on this farm who was a target for Monty to chase. He’d calm down a lot faster without prey driving him. The jaguar always did.

Resigned, Felix nodded. “Yeah,” they agreed. “Yeah, no problem. I’m happy to help. You guys don’t owe me anything. Just, um… Can you tell him to… message me when he’s himself again? I’m not mad. Make sure he knows I’m not mad. I’m just worried about him.” They were repeating themself now, but it was important.

They hesitated a moment longer, sparing another look at their feral friend before nodding. “Yeah,” they said again. “Yeah. I should — I should go. Um… I’m sorry. About everything. I’m really — I’m sorry. I’ll, uh… I’ll see you around.”

#. thread ;#. with ; felix mendoza #gun use tw #. barnyard bash ;

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artmakerproductions · 1 year ago

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Home On The Range Re:Write Part One

Disney’s “Home on the Range”, a name infamous amongst Disney and animation buffs alike. It might be a tad messy and all over the place, but hope you get a good understanding of what I am getting at.

For starters, the beginning remains the same w/ the opening song, ‘home on the range’ which leads up to our introduction to the character of Buck. Our first change would be that we’d stay w/ him on his way back into town as he’d serve as our the narrator of this tale, introducing himself. Very much in the same fashion as he does in the trailer:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=r9T5XOBjFUE&t

Life for him isn’t at all the most adventurous one in contrast to other horses, ones ridden by bounty hunters and lawmen, out in the Old West, which is soon drawing to a close as towns start becoming more developed. Buck is still a show off and such, but to a less irritating and douchey degree. For him, his arc is about how sometimes in life your story isn't as the protagonist, but you can still be a contributing factor in it. We'd flashback to his youth as a colt. Buck (still narrating) was always a fiery spirit. Envious of all the other horses that stop through their town. Usually cause their rider's are there to collect the bounties. This brings us over to the ‘Patch of Heaven’ song. A big difference here is Maggie is already there, having already been for the last few months. Unlike everyone else who is in the groove, she's out of tune. Her boisterous personality a shield for her hurting heart, but the full reveal is saved for later during the flash flood aftermath. For now, we only can tell something is up but is closed off. Additionally, Grace is practically literal deaf opposed to tone deaf as she is in the film. Mrs Caloway is the head honcho keeping things organized and running smoothly. At a later point, Grace and Maggie chat and Grave brings up how Caloway was also once like Maggie. Not in the groove of things when she and Grace first arrived on the farm years ago.

As for the farm, it serves as a petting zoo too alongside being a dairy and produce farm. An absolute hit with the little kids. A highlight of the animal's day to see them visit. On the front gates is a tin can nailed w/ a sign over it that reads "donations" over it. Pearl semi-regularly rescues or adopts animals. Maggie being the latest rescue.

Sam Brown, the local Sheriff, arrives (same fashion admin the film) to tell Pearl that the bank is cracking down on debtors as money is running short with all the cattle rustling by notorious outlaw, Alameda Slim.

Instead of three days, it’s a month’s prior notice. Needing to figure out how to get some cash, like in the original, the three figure to head into town and sign up for the upcoming summer fair. Hoping that all the prize money earned will be enough. On their way they meet Lucky Jack (still having the rattler on his head) and is saved by Maggie who steps on the snake's tail which removes the reptile off his face. It slithers off. Jack introduces himself and is willing to offer any helping return for the kind deed. They decline as Caloway tells him they’re in a hurry and mustn't doodle. As they move on, Grace lets it slip they’ve gotta raise money so they don’t lose their home. Hearing this news, he is sympathetic to the cow’s predicament as he too lost his home some time ago. Jack’s whole family and himself were removed. All needing to split up due to the loss. Eventually Jack found himself a place under a schoolhouse. With nothing better to do, he started listening in and participating by copying and drawing in the dirt. Learning to read, count and write (albeit messily) in human language. The rabbit is shown the notice they had brought along and finds they need $800. Once in town they go to finally sign up. Jack punches in the numbers and, if all the animals get 1st prize, they’ll still be in need of over $750. To try and raise money, their first try is to set up a stand to sell milk and it doesn’t go so well. Spoiling in the afternoon sun. Back with Buck, he notices the trio in town and chats. At this time, the scene with Rico happens. Maggie, Grace, Jack and Caloway listen in. Jack informs them of what the exchange of cash is about and Maggie is struck with inspiration: to become a bovine trio of bounty hunters. Caloway objects as how are three cows gonna go about such an act? Maggie replies, "Who'd ever suspect a cow?" Rico takes a minor note of the three animals nearby, but just as quickly brushes it off... but not forgets.

Now with a goal set, Maggie, Calloway, Grace and Lucky Jack, are out on the hunt for wanted bandits. First order of business: tracking down the crook. Heading out to where the last sighting of them was. Them and Jack go asking around; both w/ his displaced family members who are spread out the countryside and the other animals in the area. Showing off the wanted poster of the criminal in question. More of the song, “Home on the Range” plays in the montage. By nightfall they finally locate the criminal. They sit by a fire, their horse off to the side asleep, and a wagon (no doubt stolen). Now as to how they plan to capture the bounty, they start to come up with one. It goes like what we see in the final film when they talk of capturing Slim when they get to Echo Mine. Jack looks around in the wagon finding a slingshot, rope and a frying pan; Grace and Calloway distract the horse by (with Calloway’s begrudgement) asking for assistance with retrieving her cat from a tall cactus. Jack, hiding behind Maggie who acts naturally, slings some rocks at the criminal. He takes his revolver and walks over to Maggie to look for the assailant. Right as he’s in position. Maggie lets him have it and kicks him. Before he can get up, Jack runs over and whacks him in the face with the pan. He ties him up and Maggie carries him away from the scene. Calloway and Grace split as the horse returns and finds his rider mysteriously gone.

With their bounty in hand. All they gotta do now is turn him in… but exactly how? Especially since Buck is right by the Sheriff’s place. They figure he’d just get in the way of their mission if he finds out. So, using some ink and paper left out in front of the bank, Jack writes instructions on what to do with the money. With that, they huck the criminal at the door and split. Waking up Buck and in turn waking Sam, the Sheriff, who trips on the tied up crook. By next morning, Sam does as instructed and Pearl is surprised by the visit. Sam asks if she knows what the whole deal is with the mysterious new bounty hunter, to which Pearl says she does not. As they leave, Buck looks around and notes the absence of the three cows.

With their first bounty successful, they make their way to the next one. Montage occurs of them going around the area and claiming bounties. Slowing racking up the cash needed. They have an edge on others as they can talk with the local wildlife and even members of Jack’s family too. By this point Buck gets more and more suspicious and tries to catch them in the act. As they make progress, the three cows + Jack, start getting creative with both catching the crooks and getting past him. Such as asking a lady horse a favor to lure away Buck for a moment. Soon enough word spreads about this mysterious bounty hunter that some say has the powers of a ghost or specter given that apparently none of the captured criminals have seen them. Grabbing the attention of Rico who sees this newcomer as a rival.

Meanwhile, with Alameda Slim, the Willie Brothers (being his sons in this version) call Slim and ask to be told a bedtime story, possibly even sung— er, yodelled. An annoyed Slim begrudgingly goes through w/ their request and we get a backstory. Slim and his future wife had met while robbing the same train. She, like Slim, was on the bigger side. They fell in love and lived a wonderful life of crime. Eventually she wanted to settle down and have children. Specifically a big and strong son. The triplets were born and were scrawny as twigs, but their mamma loved them so and was very protective and soft on them and had enforced this type of care for Slim to follow. Slim and her tried again another time, and their fourth son was all the things she wanted (and is out and about themselves currently and due to visit soon), but she hadn’t gotten to see it as died in childbirth. A cruel twist of fate and Slim, while he now can knock sense into the three boys, he kept true (to a degree) to his sweetheart’s wishes of caring for her baby boys and not dumping them off in the desert for the coyotes. As he finishes he leaves — and one says he’s not feeling tired. To which Slim bashes him over the head w/ his instrument. “Tired now?”. “Yy-Yes..”

A bit of a plot detail I’ll mention is the face of the infamous mass theft cattle rustler is unknown, but thanks to the idiocy of the Willie Brothers, the name is known as Alameda Slim. Basically all the law has to go off of w/ his wanted posters. Slim’s grand scheme, like in the film of going undercover as his alter identity, Samuel Yo’del, and buying all the land cheap. However, a change would be that it’s not revenge for his talent being unappreciated, but because he and his mamma lost their little piece of land to them. So, he’s now gonna have the last laugh as he is to loan the land for big prices. That’s right, not sell, loan. Therefore keeping ownership in his [fake] name forever. With it suspected the Old West will reach an end by the century and become a more developed land with a growth of cities, his plan is that if they want his land, they must pay his prices forever. Thus becoming rich and wealthy for the rest of his days till old age.

Back with the cow trio and Jack, the due date is rapidly approaching. Finding that they’re still just short of the $800 total by $550. Jack calculates they’d need another two months of bounty hunting to reach it. Needing a big catch fast, Calloway finally agrees that they go after Slim who’s bounty is $640 which is more than enough to make the pay. Maggie is more than happy about it… almost too happy. In the earlier montage, she had been bugging Calloway about going after Slim several times, who objected as he was a cattle rustler and thus it’d put themselves in the chance of getting stolen away also, given the man’s success rate. With their last bounty brought in before setting off to catch Slim, Buck at long last catches them and wants in. Initially not wanting him to join as they think he’d want a big cut of the money and would just get in the way. He does not w/ the former and only wants in on the action. With the deadline so close, three days, and the possibility of needing a fast return into town with the bounty, they agree to let Buck join them. Off they go to collect their final bounty. Elsewhere, Rico is off in the distance by a cliff watching the rag tag bunch of animals through his binoculars…

END OF PART ONE

#home on the range #disney #disney animation #rewrite #text

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