Holly March she/her 📚💙❤️‍🔥🌶️🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿🏳️‍🌈

@marcherwitch.bsky.social

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arocishet romance storyteller • autistic • depressive+anxious • celt • thornback • expanding my paradigm Heart of Gold via www.loveafricapress.com Fairytail Romance self-pubbed www.marcherwitch.com @marcherwitch on discord, reddit, youtube, literotica

screenshot of the gobble dee gook mess amazon made of the heavily accented angst strom audio book title. i won't type it out lest your text reader jump off a bridge
Entry Ticket flash sale: 29th-31st May 2026 50% off tickets for one weekend ONLY Discount code: MAYFLASH Tickets get you: entry, tote bag, and swag goodies! 60 authors and vendors in attendance Tickets are available on Event Brite support indie romance and find your next book beloved at Brangwen Hall 24/10/'26
infographic listing all the attending authors but there's like 40 and i don't want you stuck in an unskippable cut scene... it also has the website https://indielove.wales and has a map of where brangwen hall is in relation to swansea train station and a photo of the building!
biggles purring into my mic while i play vampire the masquerade
screenshot of loupee's skeet saying he's blocking someone for baiting him shiwing that i already havd that person blocked
We have also updated the reasons we can close a PayPal Account without giving advance notice so that we may only do this if: it’s being used for fraud, money laundering, terrorism, or other crimes; we can’t complete the legal checks we’re required to do; the law or a regulator requires us to close it; you or someone linked to your account is on official government sanctions lists; or your account is being used in a way that breaks the law.
screenshot of a stage direction as follows: vigorous squelching
"We are being followed." She'd known it would be useful if they were, known it was good for the enemy to see her, but still she had wanted him to herself. "But it's a scout, and not a talented one. I've seen him three times. Maroon coat, beaver hat, green cravat or scarf." He went tense, leg hard beneath her. "Bastard shot my bloody horse in the second ambush," he started to rise and she put two fingers on his forehead to halt him. I am in charge of protecting you," she reminded him. Old habits slid into place, like an iron helm with its visor clicked into place. "You stay here. We do not confront him unless he makes a move." "Tess," his voice, so confident and sure, sounded so desperate, "please. You cannot be hurt because of me." She knew how he felt. It was the same terror that had her determined he would not face his attackers again. She stroked her gloved fingers down his beautiful nose and over his lips. "We have to be good," she reminded him. "I can't run him to ground in case there are others after you. You can't avenge your horse just yet. We have to control the field!" For a moment she worried. Worried that his worshipful attraction to her would not survive facing her cold, manipulative tactics
All the nice, bright-eyed novices desperate for any knight to get them out of the Abbey of Estmont and off into the world made him consider going warlock. Just... breaking his vow and finding power where he could to help people. Anything to stop feeling like an uncle who had been left with his nibling to look after. They were good kids, he just didn't want to be their teacher. He stared at the tapestry on the abbey wall, a ring of interconnected dancers around the Goddess, some naked, some veiled, all praising Her with dance. Please, Goddess. Don't make me do this! Then the acolyte showed in the next candidate. And Max realised there was something worse than a raw novice who knew nothing but the Abbey and schoolroom. "Hullo, thank you for seeing me, sir. It's an honour." Her voice was just as crackling as he remembered. Just as powerful. It was not that it was particularly husky or deep, not melodious or shimmering, it just thrummed chords in him that bypassed his brain and swelled heart and cock in chorus. And when she called him 'sir'... that did something. She made him feel twenty two instead of forty two.
Bloodlust would suggest an easily slaked desire. A surface want that would be excused as need. What Vala felt as they waited outside the gates of the Fort was to bloodlust what love was to sexual lus ran deep. It twisted but uplifted. It changed her as she grew with it, always knowing that she would have this as a part of her. What Vala felt was as eternal as stars and dangerous as mirror. It was a part of her paradigm. Hywel, father of Rorsch and Mawde, the man who had driven her mother away, the man who had mauled her so badly one of her hands was now wooden. Packleader. Man of violence and wolf of cruelty. Marked for death while the blackbirds and corvids chittered in the trees. "Who approaches?"
She shield-barged the leftmost wight, charged her mace with Righteous Fury, and swept at the robes and the empty ache of power within them over and over, ver, fighting the entity's ability to hold itself together. Burning cold raked her throat and face and nausea rose in her throat and chest and ears. "Fuck you," she growled, striking again and again. "Fuck you! Fuck you!" She finished it off with a crushing overhead strike and bent to bless the old shroud so it could not be used again. As she rose, she had to throw herself forward to block a third creature ganging up on him. The knight commander was fighting with his usual familiar skill, putting his axe through its figures, swirling and striking, protecting him from any chance attack while beating life from the shrouds that had been stolen from the dead. He was magnificent. As she beat away at her new opponent, she saw the knight commander falter, the ephemeral blows and clawing attacks taking their toll. Ro blocked with her shield and outstretched her mace. "Be Well," she commanded, pouring healing into him. "Thanks. Ro!"
He took the time to breathe, and she rose up and broke his nose with the heel of her hand. Shame he was too tall. It didn't kill him.
venn diagram intersecting with thomas hobbes' leviathan with the circles being transphobia and pushing AI
But this... this would be fun. And perhaps a little part of him wanted to prove that he could control her when he wanted to.
And he didn't laugh. He didn't give her a mocking Look that called her out for trying to take the lead in their play. "Please, Tess, don't stop." Chapter Three; Sex at last: "I have a fever, don't I," a moment of lucidity that brought such a lovely smile to her weary face. "Hullo, there," she put the back of her hand against his brow and he hoped she didn't hotice him luxuriating in that touch. "You're not as bad as you have been." "I've been a burden, my apologies." She flicked his nose. And not playfully. "Ouch!" "I will tell you if you are a burden, George. You don't get to decide! Understood?" "Yes. Eris." Tobias' breathing against her ear tickled her skin and stirred her hair. His hands were firm at he waist, keeping her upright and anchored. Her brain was screaming. There was danger. Their time was limited. He would eventually marry someone else. But he was so beautiful and he tasted so good. She leaned back, and looked at his pleading eyes, watched them close as she leaned forward...
infographic with the same info as the post, along wish a nap of swansea showing the train station and brangwyn hall, a picture of the hall, and a list of the authors attending
He was just the sort to see 'old' as an insult. So he made a mistake. He vaulted over the parapet, dropped nine feet, and grunted as he hit the icy mud. As he straightened, hide cloak flapping around his legs, she could see the pain in his pursed lips and gritted jaw. She wouldn't be the only one fighting injured. So she surged forwards and punched him in the throat, and slammed a foot sideways against his knee. He toppled, snarled, and reached for his wolf. She punched him in the face, and heard a crunch of breaking bone. Then he was finished Shifting, and she was on the wolf's back, arm around its neck, pulling backwards, throttling while her knee stabbed down, down, down into his ribs and spine. With only one hand breaking his jaw would be almost impossible. Something crunched under her knee and he yelped. He went still and she anticipated the Shift, pushing off him t as he became a man, Shifting into her fur, and ripping his hamstring with her teeth while her front paw raked claws at his heel. He screamed, hitting the mud, fingers digging trenches as he tried to crawl away.
small black cat jumps off a chair
biggles and clawdia all snuggled and intertwined
Auvanna Slip raised her head above the low parapet. "Come to bargain, Vala?" "You will address me as Packleader," Vala called back, jutting her chin up. "And no, Auvanna Slip, I've come to eliminate a threat to my tribe." Auvanna's anger broiled around her. "How do you know that name?" She snapped, ignoring frustrated growls from behind her. "Who told you?" "I lived in Selkrost for years," Vala felt pettiness swell in her throat. "They tell children about the bumbling mummer who tried to be a queen and was seen for what she was." "Have-" Auvanna's warpaint was hurriedly applied, smeared around her mouth. "Have my daughters heard "Doesn't matter," her brain swelled with dirty, shameless glee. She grinned, baring her teeth. "They're dead" Auvanna swayed. At her side appeared one of the old grims who played Hywel's games. She searched her memory for his name, but could only dig up that he'd liked to go by Ironpelt.
Maybe The Real XP Was The Coterie We Made Along The Way
She sat quietly and waited. "Do you feel more able to enjoy your daily activities and hobbies?" The questions were easy to answer and quick, and she was glad to see both men looking pleased. She had once allowed herself to be tricked into believing she was loved, had been rutted with while she was making love, and it had been mortifying, horrifying, life altering... but it had also made everything with the doctors easier. After all, they ordinarily only treated married women. But her case was different enough that they were prepared to assume a twenty-eight year old spinster would not be too shocked by the things they had shown her, and done with her consent and then her relief and joy. It was just that first parosysm, wonderful and mind-freeing as it had been after two months of learning pleasure, had been rather loud. Halloway had been concerned that if she was focused on staying quiet, she would not be able to rid herself of her tensions. "Excellent," the doctor set down his pen. "Do you require the housekeeper to help you
line from a script i'm writing. it's a stage direction in square brackets as follows: bell rung semi colon tinkle tinkle not bong bong
She felt it slower than it happened, her body not able to process the icy water as it hit her feet, shins, knees, thighs, belly, breasts, throat, and swallowed up her head. The water welcomed her back, and she held her breath and felt regret and remorse flood from her heart. And forgiveness surrounded her for a moment. And then the stream went colder and colder, and Vala felt fear from the spirit The water pushed her upward, and she swam to the raised rock, and stood up on it. And Rorsch held out his hand the way he had a thousand thousand times when they were children. She took it, and jumped up the bank, trusting him to right her and pull her up. "The river accepts the new Packleader," the Denmother announced, and Vala dropped Rorsch's fingers at the sound of his mother's voice. But when Rowahn did not mention the warning, Vala looked at her. The Denmother shook her head slightly.
me with pink blush lines on my cheeks
He couldn't hear her, but as long as he heard men struggle he knew she was all right. Or at least alive. Sweat slicked his palms as he pulled one hand free and yanked the rope through the bedframe. Fear and utter fury warred within him as he gathered his pistol and headed for the stairs His legs were leaden, his muscles weak, each barefooted step jarring his body. He rounded the turn on the stairs as a man was flung into the bottom ones, his head thudding with dull horror into the bannister, his whole arm at an angle that spoke to a break or dislocation. Tobias wrenched his head up as the remaining intruder was twisted about in a macabre dance, his head yanked back, and a blade appearing above his stock collar. "Stop!" Her hand froze, the slightest smearing trickle glinted darkly in the light coming through the only window, and the only sound was breathing. Now Tobias could see the mashed face of the man she had very nearly killed. Could see her bloody knuckles poking through a ruined glove, tight around the knife's handle. In the minute it had taken him to get free and follow her she had disarmed two men. Two soldiers.
advert for aunt bessies, a company that makes roast dinner side dishes like yorkshire puddings and roasties, but presented as an eating asmr
Tess raised her eyes to Marjory's amused gaze and raised eyebrows. The Scotswoman was precisely aware of the precise nature of shit she was stirring. Tess put her thumb level with the artery in her neck and jabbed toward it. Marjory winked. Damn scots and their winking. Georgie- No. No! Major Tobias Merrick cleared his throat again, raising the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck. The bare couple of times they had gently kissed had been prefaced by one of those little throat clears. How a spy survived with such an obvious tell she did not know! "However." he continued. "I have all the paperwork for the estate's beneficiaries and so on!" "We need Iris for that," Angelique pursed gallic lips around the problem. "We have Dalglish," Tobias grinned. His stubble reflected silver and gold in the lamplight. His jaw was apparently greying faster than his head. He was so achingly beautiful that she hadn't thought of him aging. She felt the years as they started to ache in her, but him? His mortality was not something she wanted to face. She had distracted herself again.
"Won't your shoes rub without them?" "Sadly true," she sat down in the chair the desk was supposed to be used with, scooped up her stockings, and lifted each leg in turn to pull them over her knees and hurriedly tie the ribbons. He made a gratifyingly flattering noise in his throat. Then he helped her into her dress and when she emerged from the neckline she met his kiss. Slow and soft, it made her toes curl. His tongue barely touched hers, his lips nibbled and pressed and rubbed, and she put a hand up into his soft hair. He groaned just slightly, perhaps even a manly whimper in disguise, and his breath shuddered. "I-" he cleared his throat, resting his forehead against hers. "I could do this for hours, Dorothea." "Then you shouldn't have told me there are plans," she dimpled up at him. "Never tell an hysteria victim there are plans. It lurks in our brains tapping its pocketwatch." He chuckled, straightened, and helped her with her buttons.
He was dying of thirst and nothing could quench him. Tonight he'd see her again. The sweet young knight serjeant Yulis with her sweet, instantaneous way of accepting orders, and thick, sweet thighs that were driving him utterly demented. No one else did this to him. He'd seen chest muscles that looked like they were sculpted by the gods, breasts of perfect proportion, pretty smiles, soft skin... but not since he'd been a recruit had controlling himself been difficult. But with her? He found excuses to be in the common rooms at the same time as her. He'd started swapping books just so he could read stories she loved and touch pages she had turned. His political responsibilities had started to mean nothing more than missed chances to talk to her. Beck sighed. "Please, goddess, stop me turning into some old man chasing a young woman. I... crave her... He rubbed his hands against his face. Then he recited the first edict of the Temple of Love: "It's not love if it's not requited. It's not sex if it's not consenting." What he wouldn't do to set her on her
"He seemed like a good man. Him and Bero both They stayed calm when... when Hywel tried to provoke them. And any man with the sense to choose Mawde must be smart." She nodded, and silence stretched. She tormented herself with his closeness. She could feel his heat, stark in the cold air. She wanted to lean against him. She did not. "She's in good hands, and so is he," she drew in a breath and watched the steam curl as she released it. "Wild! It is not normally this this sodding cold, right? I know I've been going soft by the seaside but this?" "It is freezing." he agreed. "Should we go wolf?" Vala felt the current of an easy path pull at her. No more talking. And if wolves huddled for warmth it was natural. If she wrapped herself around Rorsch now, her body still injured from the fight with his father, his still telling the tale of a thousand blows taken, she would not be able to stay calm "We could just take the whole tribe awav from this place," once the words were out, she knew he would refuse.
me talking over with discord friends if there's a momdere thpe
"Are there any back entrances? Unblocked shafts in the mine, gates toward the river?" Her head turned to him like a flower to sunshine. Rorsch shook his head, his hair tumbling over his forehead before he shook it back. The little movement was so familiar it felt like a fist was clenching under her lungs. "But the palisade is climbable. If we approach together, your friends could go the long way around and climb the back while we keep them focused on us." He frowned, and she barely even registered that she was staring at him, not looking out to the mine at all. "But it's a risk that depends on them not setting lookouts. With a grunt for the bitter air, Nerkun Shifted. "If it doesn't work, we'll retreat. Regroup." He Shifted straight back into fur again, shuddering nose to tail before crouching down next to his sibling again. Iraja bit him, their teeth nipping as they got up and shuddered nose to tail, bit Nerkun's shoulder teasingly, and trotted through the trees to the side of the sled track. Within seconds the awkwardness of the silence began to press on her. It wasn't as though she could ask him how he had been, she knew, it was drawn on his body. Knowing the artist would never use him again was scant comfort.
"Do you have any mead?" He asked, but before he was half way through a pretty ceramic bottle was on the bar and a small wooden cup. "She said you'd want mead!" Fuck. Fuck, he loved that! He loved that she knew, that she'd told the barkeep in advance, that she knew. Max took his bottle of mead, his half finished bitter, and the little mead cup, and went to the table next to Ro's party. He wanted to be near her anyway, sure, but he really wanted to be there if the big farm lads turned nasty. Beating the beefy fuckers might get rid of this aching need. She'd known he'd want mead tonight. The kid had not known she had been reprimanded for not talking to him and her advice was spot on. And she looked... The whole walk from the bar to his table he had stared at her. Her hair was damp, wavy and curling in a few places. She looked fresh and scrubbed and she was laughing almost painfully, her eyes glittering with mirth from her throne: the lap of a lad younger than her and far younger than him, with a big blonde beard and an arm looped around her middle. The glorious plumpness had hardened here and there as muscle grew and they lived on ration food between towns, but she was still a gorgeous armful of woman
"I need help. If I die those dependent on me lose their homes and welfare. And... my friends could be in trouble too." The pressure got to be too much, and he finally stopped being a coward and looked sideways at Tess. She must be disgusted. An earl. A lord. The class she stood against for all she was the first to denounce the Terror; oppressors and wastrels. and him. She was blushing hard, meeting his gaze steadily with accusation in her eyes. Marjory cleared her throat. "What have the attacks been?" The Scotswoman moved, shifting in her chair and shaking out the sleeve of her evening gown - longer than was strictly fashionable to hide the muscle beneath the fluffy fabric - to draw eyes away from him and Tess. Marjory's ability to control focus was a marvel. "The first were thugs in the street. Once walking home from Tess and Gwen's," he'd had to stop going, been terrified he had led trouble to her door. "After it happened the second time I started using a curricle. There was a gap. I thought I had been paranoid. Then I was shot by a crossbow of all things from around three hundred yards away. It was a good shot. I bent to give money to a veteran." "Saved by charity," Angelique smiled. "How very you, Major.
all three of my cats chilling on my chair
Which was when her door opened and the knight commander stormed in. "Cleric, you have- Fuck." And for a moment, he did not leave. For a moment he did not move and neither did she. He stared at her tits and her hands cupping them. Ro barely dared breathe. She was too tired to think, and she really did want him, but all the same, she was mortified. Anger had melted from his face, and his jaw had gone slack. His eyes darkened and glazed. He wanted her, and a flicker of happy hope kindled. One of them had to break the moment, and he wrenched around just as she reached for a towel that wasn't there. There was nothing within reach to cover herself with. "I am sorry," his voice was tight. "I should have knocked." "I should have locked the door." She countered. "I apologise." "Are you... covered?" She looked around the room and spotted cotton towelling on top of the coffer at the foot of the bed. "Could you pass me--"
She had looked sincerely dejected by his comments too. Except one. Telling her she was gorgeous was a mistake. Not just because he could not pursue her and make her feel chased by the man she had to rely on in battle, but because the way she shone as soon as he said it had made him feel so happy inside. Goddess, help me. I cannot take advantage... So he had taken himself in hand, put a pillow over his head, and tugged his cock half off thinking about those perfect, beautiful, rounded tits and the perfect fall of her lower lip when she was shocked. And her perfect eyes softening and be warming when he told her she was gorgeous. He'd intended for it to be the one time but he had been getting dressed in casual, if creased, clothes and remembered when he'd woken that morning and she'd had to tell him she was already low on Grace because an energy sapping spirit had tried to feed on them during the night. The rush of soft, odd gratitude he had felt on realising she had taken care of him, protected him so he could sleep had been gnawing at him all day. And that reminded him of that soft, lovely joy while she hunched under a towel looking up at him like all she wanted was his company. He already fancied the absolute drawers off her! He could not start getting attached at the heart. Ironically, the servants of Love rarely found it in each other.
She had never had to stitch him up before. Never had her fingers slick with his blood to the wrist. Her boss. Her knight commander. Max. Her voice warped in her recitation about the benefits of betony, going flat and weird as the tears tried to come again. She had to thrust her hands under his body, passing bandage about and about, wrapping him up. She lifted him onto his side to make it easier, half lying against him to keep his body propped so neither back nor front were pressed into the injuries. Her hair fell from the pretty twist she'd put it in when they'd been looking over a local map, the silly plait and knot that had been crushed under her mail hood. A lock of it stuck to her pain sweat streaked forehead. She blew at it. Once, twice.. The body before her moved, and he brushed her cheek with his hand. It smelled of blood, sweat, the oil they used to treat their weapons, leather... He tucked the lock of her hair behind her ear, but when his hand went back it flumped onto t mattress. His eyes never focused on her once. die on me. Don't die for me. Please. commander, please... stay awake!"
"You'll keep me safe," he sounded hurt, but not disgusted at least. And he meant it. He trusted her. She had become nothing but a sometime tutor, a facilitator of convenience, but he believed she would keep him alive. The simple sincerity scared her, but it fed her bruised self esteem. She would not let him know she was not sure of herself Would not let him know... "In which case," Tobias gave a little, anxious throat clear. "Shall we return to your home?" Hestia chuckled, her face all the more lovely for the sparkle in her eyes. Hestia and Gwen never seemed to age. Always beautiful, her dear friends, and always caring. At times Tess found it hard to care. One thing after another became exhausting, draining, and too much. Losing Gwen to her homeland of Gwynedd meant Tess was likely not fully comprehending the situation. She was distracted. The thought of having him in her home, just the two of them, was tempting her weary mind. No longer able to keep her face still, she covered it with one gloved hand. Pressing her eyelids with her fingers sent dancing silver and rust red spots across her blinkered vision. She had just accepted the news. What was important was that someone was trying to kill
infographic with basically the same info but with lil pictures of the book covers
biggles the white cat using clawdia the black cat as a pillow
For a quarter hour they aided the watch with their enquiry while a crowd of burly grooms who had come with Josh acted as a Greek chorus. And she got to see Major Tobias Merrick throw english affront at everyone. He used the words ruffian and footpads. He even threatened to go over their heads to the Runners. He handed the serjeant his visiting card, for goodness' sake! She even threw a snotty 'disgraceful' into the melange. By the time they were done as much light as this summer ever managed filled the street Then she went back to the horses with Josh, soothing and calming the big, frightened creatures. And she listened to the grooms talk about how strange it was to see such prime beasts on an old-fashioned and tatty carriage. Slowly the hard, cold violence dropped into trembling shock, and she shoved simmering anger into the hole to force herself calm. She was glaring, arms folded, elbow pinning a handkerchief over her scratch, when Tobias approached. His eyes started to shift over her dirtied walking dress and jacket. "Tess-" She flared her eyes at him, and the angered toff dropped from his shoulders, leaving a chastened man in its place.
"I am delighted that you have come here, Dorothea," he took possession of her name for the first time aloud and the taste of it on his tongue gave him a quivering, delicious sensation. "I am ecstatic. Touching you each time you visit Dr Bridger has been wonderful but also the greatest test of my resolve and most agonising torment of my life. Not being able to kiss you, to taste your skin as a lover might, has been interminably difficult. Worth it, but oh so difficult. May I touch you again, Dorothea?" He could say her name with every sentence he spoke and never tire of the lightening strike of pleasure that hit him in the heart at getting to use her first name. The tightness in his chest. however. he did not like. It would not do for them both to be nervous. He wanted to be everything for her, wanted to be her teacher in this world that was new to her. and a stalwart friend if she wished it. He could not do that if he started stammering and shaking. She nodded, and then shuddered...
He hid most of his surprise, but the anger was blatant. And it was satisfying to her marrow. "You-" He strode over, looming over her, using his height and growling when she didn't back down. "Me," she replied. "Vala, born here and thus having-" "I nearly killed you once! I'll just take you the rest of the way." He believed it too. "You left me because you weren't sure if you could push me through the Veil," she tossed her head, deliberately playing up affected calm. Her blood was still pumping through her veins. She wanted it to begin. Wanted the blood and fur and teeth. He reached out and grabbed her arm, lifting above the elbow joint, displaying her wooden forearm and hand. "Is that-" "You're not even whole!" he bellowed over her.
To my sister Katy, who read piss and blood history because she hates romance. To Bernard Cornwall, who wrote piss and blood history for romance’s sake. To Sean Bean, because you gave me a chance to love something my sister loved. And to Jason Salkey, for the way you delivered the epic comeback: “I can read, sir.” None of you will ever see this dedication. One of you has no excuse.
so the setup is one if those "meh" then "yessss" reactions and i've used marton csokas in triple x because he's the fc for my character's ancient vampire boyfriend... the meh caption is "creating a legacy with a line of vampires stemming from your bloodline" and the happy yes one is "creating a legacy by giving all your money to a mad scientist who may well use mpreg or a vat so you can have a baby"
biggles the white cat lying atop clawdia the black cat
ebay email as follows: Turn unexpected gifts into wins It’s thoughtful, bold and… not your style. Get listing and pocket the cash to fund something a bit more you. Selling’s so easy, you can’t help but say when it’s eBay.
me, lace and lil maid ruffle on my head in eight inches of makeup looking over my glasses
three cats sleeping together. now, it looks like two and some totally black nothingness but i assure you there are three
me wearing an abysmal maid cap
And he’d never seen her naked, but once she had been soaked in the rain and sat playing vingt-et-un in a house coat, and when Gwen made tea he’d had it off her shoulder, peppering kisses against her skin, and his tongue had dragged over the tail end of either a bad gouge from a whip or a slice from a blade that had healed badly.
biggles the white cat standing over his fallen prey, the miniature xmas tree
it's a bit from psych where jules tells lassiter to take off his sunglasses and he snaps back "you put some sunglasses ON!" bur i labelled jules as "the other clans" and lassiter as "setites"
just the worst scratchy sketch with bad proportions and a wolf that looks like a horse-dog