harpy.

some of your feathers are tangled. do you want help with that?

so .. you’re a furry

Who the hell are you for taking down my bad guy ? Not cool , man , not cool .

// At night, my cat stays locked in the living room downstairs. We do this because 1. He'll wake up the entire house with demanding meows at 5AM, 2. he'll low key choke me and my mom by laying down his fluffy body on our necks. 
          
          So I woke up at 3AM (it's 3am now.) Went to the bathroom, which is on the first floor. Apparently my cat woke up. How I know that?
          
          Loudness. It sounds like there is a little Siamese demon wailing downstairs. Have you ever heard those warning sirens that mean something's really bad is going to happen in the country? No, they don't use some machine for that, they let my cat scream in a megaphone. 
          
          The little demon is watching out for me because I'm physically impaired right now, but still - hE'S LOUD. He woke up my parents. But damnit, I love this cat. You better love my cat too. LovE HiM. 
          

@strangemagic- 
          
          The rustling and messy flaps of wings was heard as he hastily got up from the couch. Steve had been napping there, wings wrapped around him like a warm, feathery cocoon. Now he had gotten up and he was awake, eyes sleepy. Some brown feathers drifted onto the floor. 
          
          "Hi," he greeted. "I didn't know you were coming. It's good to see you." 

@bIackmagiic 
          // oO-

did you eat lunch ?    thor made some pasta , i had some it was pretty good . 

* / just a warning, it’s gonna get a lil gory
          
          maybe it was just getting too much. being like this...was he going crazy ? he must be going crazy. blood drenched his clothes. blood pooled over the counter. his human hand gripped the saw, it trembled as it hacked through this skin and bone of the beast — the beast that will consume him...one day. beads of sweat dripped from steve’s head as he continued on his way to cut off his arm. that monster of an arm. that hideous, scaled thing people stare at. 
          
          no longer had covering it up be an option, no one else might not see it but he woke up with this thing. he woke up knowing damn well he killed people out of greed for some stupid gold and jewels and now he was paying the price for it. steve had hit bone and he didn’t stop there. he didn’t care if he became an amputee. he just wanted this off. he wanted the memories to go along with it. 
          
          no one seemed to look at him in the eye anymore. he could smell fear, the worry, the threatened feeling that sinks way deep into their stomachs as he speaks to them or even looks at them. he’s tried everything to be normal again, to just carry on. he’s tried and he’s tried and now...this was his last resort. cutting off his own arm. steve didn’t feel the pain. adrenaline kept a shield around it so he didn’t have to feel anything. until the effects wore off. 

* / okay okay without any context, chose between ‘arm’ or ‘falling’ :P

M'kay, so if we had sex, would that be bestiality?