flea fur

Strays

@cobaltmoony needed some fluffy Bucky and cat.

Well… there’s Bucky and cat..

He’d had so many names over the years (many years, far too many years). The Fist of Hydra. James. The American. The Asset. Jerk. The Winter Soldier.

Once, he had even been Bucky.


He still is, according to Steve. Steve who has lived too long, and has his own string of names trailing in his wake. Captain America. Steven Grant Rogers. Stevie. Star Spangled Man with a Plan. Punk.

Steve is still Steve, he may even be Stevie. He’s not Captain America anymore, not since the Winter Soldier appeared at his window, metals fingers pressed to the bullet wound in his stomach, scratching at the glass to be let in, like some kind of stray animal.

Steve, Stevie, still had no sense of preservation. He should have closed the blinds and left the thing that had tried to kill him months ago bleed out on the fire escape. But no, he wrenched open the window and dragged the assassin into his home (for fuck’s sake Stevie).

The Winter Soldier had bled all over the bedsheets, and as far as anyone was concerned died there, leaving a ghost.

The ghost of James Buchanan Barnes.


Steven Grant Rogers, Stevie, Dumb Punk, gave up his shield. He had picked it up to save Bucky once, and put it down to the same ends.

They didn’t so much live as warily co-exist in the apartment, on the corner of a street both familiar and strange. They had lived there before, Steve told him, but the building got torn down and they built a new one. Best thing for it, Bucky had said. The old one was a death trap. His mouth did that sometimes, opened up and words spilled out, unexpected and sweet and bitter. Like a head full of firecrackers, memories popping and snapping and if too many went off at once it made him flinch. Made him shiver and tuck himself into the smallest. darkest corner of the apartment, like a stray animal.

So Steve filled the refridgerator with the kind of things the ghost used to eat. Filled the shelves with books that the ghost used to read. The apartment was never silent, a radio in the kitchen, the volume turned low, played big band and swing and jazz, things the ghost used to dance to.

Steve was always so damn stubborn.


Baby steps, the therapist said. Small victories.

He’s killed presidents, and now he’s supposed to feel pride when he walks downstairs to get the mail. He’s brought down governments in a single night but barely manages three stops on the subway.

But it’s worth it, worth all of it and more to see the way Steve lights up when he comes back upstairs with the mail and announces the mission suffered zero casualties. When Steve’s hand wraps around his on the crowded subway and squeezes.

So he walks down to the corner store for milk when they run out, and eats at least once a day, and all the other little things that keep the furrow in Steve’s brow from running too deep.

And he doesn’t punch through the metal side of the dumpster when it starts rustling.


He had managed to pick up orange juice from the store. Not the nearest one just across the street from the apartment, but a bodega two blocks away. When he walked past the dumpster down the nearby alley (old habits die hard and he’s more likely to enter Steve’s apartment by the roof than the doors on the ground floor) it rustled at him and let out a pathetic whine.

Bucky had lifted the lid and found the cat.

The thing was not much more than a scrap of fur and fleas. He had no idea what colour it was, its coat dingy grey and matted. It still had a mouth on it, giving him a half-hearted hiss as he pulled it out of the garbage by the scruff.

The Ghost stared at the cat, and the cat stared back. Then bit his finger.

He offered it a metal fingertip and it bit that too, not even slightly dissuaded by the way it’s teeth skidded over the metal plates.

For the first time in seventy years, Bucky smiled.


The bodega stocked catfood, though Bucky had no idea if the cat preferred the wet stuff in cans or the dried kibble in boxes, so he bought both, the cat safely zipped up in his jacket, it’s flat little head poking out. It’s oversized ears swivelled back and forth as Bucky held out a can of chicken chunks in gravy in one hand and salmon pieces in aspic in the other and told the cat to make up it’s damn mind.

“Mrrr,” the cat said finally, which Bucky chose to interpret as ‘both’.

He pays for the items and walks back out onto the street. The cat makes itself comfortable, borrowing down into his jacket and going to sleep. It’s needle-like claws prick at his thin shirt, digging in whenever he turns too sharply or moves any faster than a walking pace. Since Bucky doesn’t want to be completely perforated he walks slowly down the street rather than take to the rooftops, and anyway he has a bag of catfood.


Steve didn’t look up from his spot on the couch when Bucky slipped through the apartment door and kicks off his shoes, though Bucky would bet good money that he’d spent the whole of Bucky’s absence at the window, quietly worrying.

“Hey Buck,” Steve muttered with a forced nonchalance that fools no one. “You get lost?”

“Mowr,” the cat answered.

Steve’s head snaps up, “What-”

“I founds it in the trash,” Bucky blurted out. “It’s greasy and cranky and smells like crap but…” he falters at the complicated run of expressions that passed over Steve’s features. “You seem okay with taking in strays,” Bucky finished weakly.

Steve frowned silently, and Bucky tensed up, one hand curled protectively around the lump of fur under his jacket. Something in Bucky’s expression seemed to settle him though, and he dropped the book he was reading on the coffee table.

“We’re gonna need more stuff,” Steve announced and pulled out his phone.

He wasn’t Captain America anymore, but that didn’t mean Steve couldn’t get things done when he put his mind to it. Twenty minutes later a harassed looking SHIELD agent dropped off several boxes of random crap that were supposedly essential for cat ownership.

Bucky couldn’t understand the need for a litter tray and unscented, clump-forming, biodegradable whatever-the-fuck to go in the tray (cat’s went outside, right?), or the twine-wrapped wooden kitty adventure playground thing. The collar, okay, fair enough. The shampoo and the flea drops, fuck yeah.

Steve read the instructions on the bottle carefully and gave the cat a wary look. “You’ve got the vibranium arm, you can hold it.”


They covered the bathroom floor with towels, and Bucky placed the cat carefully in the bath, where it gave him an unimpressed look and sat down to wash itself.

The disdain might have been more effective if the cat didn’t stop every time it licked itself to twitch and flap it’s tongue.

Bucky poured a little shampoo into his hands and coated his fingers before rubbing them into the cats matted fur. It gave him a curious ‘Prrrp’, but didn’t freak out until Steve turned on the showerhead, checking the water temperature on the inside of his elbow.

The cat hissed and yowled and bit Bucky’s metal thumb, sending half the tub water onto the floor in its thrashing. Bucky pressed his hand between the cats shoulders and it flattened itself on the bottom of the tub while Bucky rinsed off the soap. Underneath all the grime was silky black fur with white paws and chest and a splodge of white on his nose.

Bucky wrapped the cat up in one of the towels until it was a damp and squirming burrito, it’s nose poking out of one end. Bucky cradled it in his arms, murmuring softly as he carries the cat out to the living room and sits down on the couch. The cat bites his wrist half-heartedly, teeth skidding over metal plates. Steve watched silently from the doorway as Bucky carefully dried the cats fur, working through the tangles with his fingers until it curled up in his lap and falls asleep.


Bucky glanced up when Steve sat carefully on the couch beside him, silently waiting for permission before reaching over to stroke the cats still-damp fur.

Bucky thinks of his first night back, when the Winter Soldier bled to death on Steve’s white linens. It had taken days to heal, the bastardised version of superserum that crawled through his veins forcing out the bullets and knitting flesh and skin back together.

Steve had carried him, bridal style, to the bathroom and placed him in the tub. It hadn’t mattered, ghosts couldn’t feel the washcloth passing over bruises and scar tissue. Ghosts didn’t lean into the touch of hands in their hair, carefully rinsing away shampoo. Ghosts didn’t sigh at conditioner being massaged into their scalps, large, gentle fingers teasing out the knots and tangles.

Ghosts didn’t fall asleep on the couch, wrapped in towels and blankets, half listening as their failed mission made endless phone calls in a hushed voice, pulling apart the pieces of his life and putting them back together again with a ghost shaped hole in the middle. In the heart.

The cat purred in it’s sleep, it’s claws flexing rhythmically, leaving pinholes in Buckys jeans.

Piece by piece, everything falls into place


“He needs a name,” Steve murmured.

The cats head was pillowed in the palm of Bucky’s metal hand, fingers curled loosely around it’s fragile skull. It had one paw wrapped around Bucky’s wrist, holding him in place. As if he could even consider leaving.

Such a fragile little thing, and yet it trusted him. Trusted him to keep it safe and warm and alive.

Bucky glanced at Steve. “He?”

It’s not the thing he wants to say. There aren’t words in any language for that. There isn’t time enough in their artificially extended lives to explain it all.

“I got a, uh, eyeful when he was thrashing around in the tub,” Steve mumbles. “Definitely he.”


Ghosts don’t have names. They have identities - The Weeping Woman, The Headless Horseman, The Winter Soldier. Not names.

Bucky isn’t a ghost’s name.


Bucky shrugs, feigning nonchalance. Steve knows him too well to fall for it. “You pick.”

Steve takes a long moment to consider the cat. Bucky watches him from the corner of his eye. The lines of Steve’s face, the curve of his jaw. Things that ice and time and mind-wipes couldn’t erase.”

“He’s your cat, you choose,” Steve says finally.

Bucky huffs. “I’m bad at names. You’re the one who came up with Bucky. You pick.”

Steve lights up, and for a moment Bucky can’t look at him. It’s like staring into the sun.

“You remember that?”

Bucky bristles under Steve’s look of surprise. “Yeah. ‘Course I remember.”

Steve turns his face to Bucky’s neck and has to take a deep, shuddering breath.

Bucky waits for Steve to pull himself together, Steve’s breath, hot and damp against his skin raising goosebumps.

Really, it’s frankly embarrassing. A former spy and a decorated military tactician, and neither of them had figured it out yet.

You don’t go against your commanding officer and damn well walk into enemy territory in a stage costume for a friend. Seeing an old friend doesn’t break seventy years of Hydra programming.

You don’t hand over your shield to a guy dressed like a bird for a friend.


“Tom?” Bucky asks.

Steve snorts, still hiding in the collar of Bucky’s shirt. “That’s not very creative,” he mumbles.

Bucky shifts and turns to Steve, pressing his lips to the top of Steve’s head.

“Orange Juice.”

Steve’s head snaps up, and he meets Bucky’s eyes. “What?”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth ticks up. “I went out to get orange juice.”

Steve coughs out a laugh. “Seriously?”

Bucky gives him a mock glare. “You gotta problem with that?”

Steve shakes his head, his eyes bright.

“You want to keep him?” Bucky asks softly.

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

“You want to keep me?” Bucky murmurs.

Steve frowns. “You’re not a thing, Buck. How many times do I gotta explain-”

Bucky leans forward and kisses him, soft and brief. Steve falls into a shocked silence.

“I mean…” Bucky whispers against Steve’s soft, warm lips. “Do you want to keep me?”


For a second, a heartbeat, Bucky thinks that he’s made a terrible mistake. Steve lets out a soft breath and kisses him back.

“Yes,” he chants between sweet presses of lips. “Yes. Yes.”

Faerie Tale Theatre [Pt. 2]

[ ➤ Change pronouns and adjust to fit your muse! ]

Little Red Riding Hood

  • “I want to grow up, I just don’t know how… I have limited experience.”
  • “Who wants to live with a pack anyway? If they don’t want me, FINE.”
  • “Three days and not one edible thing has come down that path.”
  • “Now there’s a tasty little DISH.”
  • “We can be alone together, just you and me.”
  • “On anybody else, this would look perfectly hideous, but on me, ahh, beautiful.”
  • "Stay where ya are, ya miserable flea-bitten fur-bag or ya’ll end up a rug on my floor!”
  • “What great, terrible teeth you have!”
  • “What took you so long I damn near suffocated!”
  • “Well in addition to be eaten by a wolf, I’m sick as a dog.”
  • “Sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth.”

Hansel and Gretel

  • “How can I possibly sleep with you rolling around next me like a pig in the mud.”
  • “What’s to become of us? How am I to feed my poor children?”
  • “I’m sure they’re eating venison with a prince right now without any a thought for us.”
  • “Surely God will take pity on two children and watch out for us.”
  • “We must have been very bad children for them to leave us in such a place.”
  • “Nibble, nibble little mouse who is eating up my house?!”
  • “Eat me out of house and home will you? We’ll see who eats what.”
  • “She doesn’t see very well, but she has the nose of a wolf.”
  • “Heart to batter, batter to heart, death’s a treat, so sweet to eat.”
  • “I want fat, fat, fat! Rolls of fat, flesh and more flesh! Soft, undulating, quivering jiggling young flesh!”
  • “You sit in a little cage all day, while I’m running to and fro: ’fetch this, boil that, c-c-c-cook.”
  • “I don’t care if DO you lose your temper! You’re a horrible woman!”
  • “Our sorrows have ended and we’ll live together in great happiness!”

Goldilocks and the 3 Bears

  • “She was always kind of… spunky.”
  • “Let me sleep for 2 more weeks… I’m dreaming about food.”
  • “My teacher says to not let anybody see my papers because it’s a big secret.”
  • “Little kids don’t think as well on Saturdays! It’s a scientific fact!”
  • “What if you got a thousand bees all in one place? Then if you got a million queen bees and some kings too? You’d get a million-trillion bees!”
  • “We have to be very carful, there are highway men and robbers all around, they may be close by!”
  • “I don’t care if she’s ‘just a little girl,’ that doesn’t give her the right to barge into people’s homes without their permission.”
  • “What if one of these weeds has a poison thorn and it sticks me and I die right here in the front yard?!”
  • “I’d think a green cow would look something like a dragon, don’t you think?”
  • “I’m TOO smart!”
  • “I’ll wear my prettiest dress, and comb my hair real nice and smile my best smile, and for sure they’ll fall for it!”
  • “They’re the nicest bears in the world.”


The Princess and the Pea

  • “Oh yeah, real tough being prince: you’re rich, you’re powerful, oh it’s a real burden!”
  • “I know exactly where I am: I’m lost.”
  • “I’ll probably sneeze to death, but anything for chivalry.”
  • “You have the most expressive eyebrows I’ve ever seen!”
  • “In my spare time I like to count horses and think about my feet.”
  • “For the past few hours you have been rude, obnoxious, arrogant, and not a great deal of fun.”
  • “You are simply a rung on my ladder to success. An object to be stepped on.”
  • “I’ve traveled all the major roads, I’ve stayed in 2 or 3 kingdoms, I’ve been wooed by a couple village idiots, and I’ve met some very interesting people.”
  • “Good company, bad company… at least you’re not alone.”
  • “The whole family’s a little bit off, and seeing is how I’m sitting here talking to myself I’d fit right in.”
  • “It was like I was sleeping on a boulder–I’m black and blue from head to toe.”

Pinocchio

  • “I wonder if you can wish to the moon, or just the stars… they’re in the same universe.”
  • “You can move, you can talk, you can think on somewhat limited basis of course, given you’re a teenager.”
  • “He attacked life with the gusto and the innocence of a small child.”
  • “I understand you, but the other people? They start to talk and think you’re a little bit you know– bugabugbuga.”
  • “I’ve got to be the stupidest person I’ve ever met.”
  • “You’re going to go home, you’re going to tell the truth, and promise to never ever do this sort of thing again.”
  • “You take your money, bury it in the ground, you wait overnight, and you’ve got 5 times as much!”
  • “Ever see a wooden donkey? I’d make a fortune!”
  • “I’m so sorry, that’s why you’re here, because I was so bad and thoughtless!”
  • “It’s part of my job, but I love wood.”

Thumbelina

  • “You have been so kind to me, allow me to give you something in return.”
  • “You’ll learn that beauty and talent are a blessings, but if they are too much admired, they can be curses as well.” 
  • “I won’t marry your creepy son, I won’t! I won’t!”
  • “I’m sure he’ll find you delightful, and your story fascinating.”
  • “How does one conquer Gaul? Doesn’t one already have the gall, as in ‘he had the gall to call me a nitwit?’”
  • “It takes more than sweet songs to get by in life.”
  • “I do my best to secure your future and this is the thanks I get?”
  • “I’m always the bride and never the bridesmaid.”
  • “Prince or no, I can’t marry anyone without my mother’s consent.”
  • “Flower angels can slip in and out all sorts of places… even dreams.”

Snow White and the 7 Dwarves

  • “The years do not effect my beauty, my skin could be satin.”
  • “That gawky brat! How I hate her!”
  • “Cold soup… cold meat… cold peas… I could eat it all if I weren’t so tired.”
  • “That’s a STUPID assumption,_____!”
  • “Her heart is in this box. You’re lying again.”
  • “When a mirror tells a lie, it shatters in shame.”
  • “She’s a witch! I knew it when I saw her, and don’t call me stupid!”
  • “The gentle arching of my eyebrows fascinates me, most others eyebrows are grotesque and misshapen.”
  • “I don’t even miss the castle anymore… It’s so big and cold and lonely. But I do miss swimming in the moat.”
  • “No one can argue now. Now there’s only one beauty in the land.”
  • “I cannot imagine anyone hurting you, you should only be loved.”
  • “Each and every mirror as you turn to look at it, will turn to black.”

gravegh0st  asked:

hiya! i'm really curious how to get into vc? i've always been intrigued even before i knew what it was (in 3rd grade i wanted to keep a rabbit that died in our garden's skull and the skull from a roadkill skunk). but i just don't know where to start? do i just go pluck some roadkill from the road? honestly just some links or maybe phrases to search to get me started would be nice tbh. thanks for running this blog! it's really cool man

Welcome to the community! I’m glad you like our blog =)

To make things easy, click here to access the Vulture Culture Masterpost, which has different links for animal processing methods and tutorials. This post should have all the information you’ll need to get started with processing animal parts. And here’s a nice page about roadkill collection alone.

I’m also going to add in another link:
This is Lupa Greenwolf’s website on animal parts laws, which has a good summary of different laws but isn’t listed on the Masterpost.

Before you get started doing much of anything I’d first recommend that you brush up on your laws. While it may be a pain, look up your local laws. It’s always easier to keep things legal instead of trying to go through hoops and hope you don’t get caught.

Also, feel free to ask around in the community if you ever need any help! Tumblr has a very active Vulture Culture community and many of us would be glad to assist fellow Vultures if we’re able. I’ve also noticed there’s several VC groups on Facebook, and some Vultures like to hang out on Instagram.

Another thing I’d like to mention is that if roadkill doesn’t work out for you, whether it be because of laws or you just find out it’s not your cup of tea, there’s always other ways to obtain animal parts. Finding stuff in the woods, getting in contact with hunters/trappers, getting “ins” with pet breeders/pet stores/farmers/butchers, buying things in thrift stores/oddity shops/trade stores/fur dealers/flea markets/garage sales, or even buying online whether it’s from a fellow Vulture or bigger websites like Moscow Hide & Fur or even eBay. Find what works best for you.

Finally, here’s some common phrases you might want to know:

Bone Phrases:

  • Maceration: A method of processing bones, where you soak them in plain water.
  • Degreasing: The process of removing grease from bones. This is done after cleaning, but before bleaching. Common methods include soaking bones in water with plain Dawn dish soap and changing the water until it becomes clear, or for tougher jobs you can use ammonia or even acetone.
  • Bleaching: NOT referring to actual bleach! Bleaching is using hydrogen peroxide in order to whiten and sanitize bones after they have been cleaned and degreased. Actual bleach will set in grease, and eventually cause your bones to become brittle and flake or otherwise turn to powder.
  • Nature Cleaned: Refers to bones that were found “clean”, as in they were free or mostly free of meat and skin.
  • Boiling: DO NOT BOIL BONES! If someone who knows better says their bones are boiled, it’s likely that they actually mean “simmered”. Simmering bones is just what it sounds like, and has to be done carefully to avoid cooking the fat into the bones.
  • Grease Spots: These are unsightly (and sometimes smelly) dark or yellowish spots on bones that were not properly or thoroughly degreased. Bones can usually be degreased again without any problem. If a skull was bleached with actual bleach it’s not recommended to attempt to degrease them, as they may disintegrate more quickly if submerged in water.
  • Articulation: Putting a skeleton back together after cleaning.
  • Staining: The act of coloring bones using different dying agents.
  • Replica: As it implies, this is not a real skull/bone, it is an artificial fake, usually made from some form of resin.

Pelt Phrases:

  • Green/Raw: This means a pelt that is not tanned, and likely not processed in any way. An untanned pelt will eventually decompose, so if you want to keep a pelt you will need to tan it.
  • Fleshing: Fleshing is the process of scraping or otherwise removing any extra meat or membrane from a pelt in preparation to have it tanned. This step, while difficult, is necessary in order to have a tan penetrate the skin. If a pelt is fleshed, that means someone has already done this step.
  • Salted: A pelt that is salted is also not tanned, but is dried. This also applies to dried pieces such as mummified bodies or dried wings or other parts. Usually done after fleshing a pelt, salting will temporarily preserve a pelt so that it may be transported or stored until it can be tanned. It’s recommended to use non-iodized salt for this process. Borax can also be used, and is good for deterring bugs, but it tends to have bad reactions with tanning agents. Borax can be good to use for salting bird wings, feet, or other things that you cannot tan.
  • Rehydrating: This refers to wetting a pelt, usually for the purpose of shaping it or tanning it (if not already tanned). Can be done with a salted or tanned pelt. Taxidermists and crafters commonly rehydrate pelts or parts of pelts to work with them. Not recommended to do multiple times, as it can weaken the leather.
  • Slipping/Slipped: This refers to patches where fur comes out of the pelt, usually during or after tanning (though slipping can happen before that). Typically the result of improper preservation, and more common to happen with animals who were left to sit and rot before being either processed or frozen whole.
  • Pickle/Pickling: Part of the tanning process, this step helps kill bacteria left in the hide. Not referring to what you can do with a cucumber.
  • Blown Ear: This means the ear is ripped, which can happen when the ears are being turned. Not desirable for taxidermy.
  • Turned Ears/Split Lips: If a pelt has its ears turned and lips split, that usually means the pelt in general has been prepped for taxidermy. Turning ears refers to removing the ear cartilage, while splitting lips means separating the inner lip skin so there is enough skin left for tucking. Usually you’ll also want the nose cartilage removed, and for the inner eyelids to be in tact.
  • Craft Quality: This means a pelt is suitable for crafts, but is not suitable for taxidermy, and possibly too “unsightly” for displaying on its own. Usually for pieces such as faces or paws, or for pelts with a lot of slips or holes.
  • Wallhanger: Referring to a pelt that is good for display. Usually also good for crafting with, however it’s best to ask to ensure the leather isn’t too weak.
  • Mountable: A pelt that should be suitable for taxidermy. This means that the pelt is complete, holes are minimal, there is no slipping or very little slipping, the leather is strong, and preferably it is “taxidermy prepped” (ears turned, lips split, etc.).

I think between this list and the Masterpost you should have enough information for a good start! I hope this isn’t too much all at once, or too basic and stuff you already knew. If you have any questions feel free to send us another message, or ask around in the community in general.

My husband found this tiny scrap of fluff abandoned just down the road from our little wooded abode. She was covered in excrement and fleas, her fur dirty and matted. We gently bathed her with lavender soap and gave her a dose of flea medicine and what a world of difference it has made.
Her name is Persephone, goddess queen of the underworld and goddess of spring growth.

My mom and I found a little maltese wandering around by herself on the side of the highway. We took her to the vet and learned that she had no chip, was pregnant, and infested with fleas and hookworms. Her fur was matted, and she was dangerously underweight. We tried to locate an owner through a variety of means, but no one claimed her. We took her home, treated her infestations, and got her going on a high calorie diet. A friend of mine fell in love with her instantly. She decided to adopt her, and name her Yoko. 8 weeks later, Yoko popped out 4 of the cutest puppies you’ve ever seen! Gordon (above) is one of those puppies! His siblings were a adopted, but we couldn’t let this special guy who stole out hearts slip away from us. We knew we had to keep him. Today, Gordon just had his 7th birthday last week, and he is our loyal companion. He is a sensitive dude, acutely aware of our moods, and wouldn’t let me out of his sight throughout the pregnancy of our daughter. We may not have adopted him from a shelter, but I absolutely believe that picking Yoko up from the side of the road that day saved him and his siblings lives.

anonymous asked:

what are the downsides of bein a werewolf? or is it a spoiler? :o

fur, fleas, awkwardly precise sense of smell….

But mostly the biggest downside is the full moon, when they lose control and have to be locked down in safehouses. And then there’s all kinds of awful control stuff where they have to go through a special sort of test if they’re suitable for city living and won’t be a threat to others etc etc…. which can be very humiliating.

Also, some people just aren’t suitable for being werewolves. They can snap easily, be aggressive, hurt people around them (thus the tests) and if so they have to go live in the wilds.