Always Watching

| Horror and NSFW Rp account | 21+ Only and have your age on your account | Writer is 23 and uses she/her | All muses are Scarecrows, OCs and canons, male and female | Read the rules |

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

Scarecrows of the Cornfield

A story oriented horror and NSFW account, with Scarecrow muses both male and female, OCs and canon.

Multi-muse as well as multi-ship, every interaction with a new muse is treated as a separate universe and storyline.

You must be 21+ to interact with this account. Have your age or some Indication you are 21+ on your profile. In a bio or a Tumblr post, I will not go into a link to verify your age.

Let me be blunt: I am a lesbian in real life who also likes fictional monsters. I will happily write wlw or wlm with the male being a monster, but there will be no writing of mlm and no human male muses allowed. (Human looking monsters like vampires are fine).

What else you gotta know about me: 21+ (Obviously) she/her, autistic, happy to chat and ramble about interests with you. I always make a point to talk with anyone I am writing with.

Don't feel shy to approach me! I love to write, and though I am strict on my rules I love to talk and plot. I know my muses, being monster Scarecrows are a little hard to fit most wishlists but, do not be afraid to come to me with ideas! I am willing to work and write a great deal.

I only care that you can write with me. I am story oriented, I will write multiple paragraphs in most of my responses. I do not care about how done up your account is, or about pictures, FCs, or gifs. Come to me with your writing, your stories and characters and we can create stories together.

For first interactions, all opens are always open no matter how old. Always feel welcome to send an ask. Or, contact me if you want to plot or write!

This is a side account, I can not follow you back. Though if we are writing together I will keep an eye on your account for memes or opens. Also, do not ask me for Discord. I do not have it, I am not getting it, you found me here we can write here.

I am on mobile. I can't cut posts, but I don't intend to be clogging up anyone's feeds. If a post gets too long I will make a new post, with a link to our last response to continue the thread.

Be nice, be patient, understand I work a full time job and am very busy in real life, this is a hobby. I will be happy to give you updates and I promise you I am a very involved writer, but no pressure for replies.

Let's keep it simple: No kids, no incest, no animals, no bathroom kinks, and no cheating. ~ The last two I will not block you for, that is my preference when writing.

That said dark themes still apply to this account. Both in plot and smut writing. That said, please let me know if there is a particular topic that triggers you so it may be avoided!

Homophobia, transphobia, and racism will not be tolerated here in any way.

This is a horror account. Understand everything written here is fictional, do not take it personally. Dark themes can and will apply, please be wary when interacting with this account.

🎃 Muses 🎃 Kinks 🎃 Wishlist 🎃

🎃 Tags 🎃 Rules 🎃 Author 🎃

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

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Some things I am thinking about adding to this account as I come back on here.

A few more Scarecrows, male and female. Some Halloween Town like, some horror like, Pumpkin headed and not. I have ideas.

Some very select canons. Probably ones not popularly known, honestly.

Liches and zombie characters. For fantasy open world, and apocalypse open world monster fucker stories.

Halloween Town scenario with multiple Halloween type monster characters in it.

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[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

Winter is here, snow covers the ground, crops are harvested or dead. It is the one time of the year the Scarecrows aren't fully bound to their pole.

So of course, that means it is their breeding season. Wish to encounter one while they're in heat?

Give a little ♡ or interaction with this post for a specially themed starter.

If you'd like anyone specific, let me know or I will decide.

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

Closed starter for @tcsteimmortclity .

Muse: Cornella

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The moon had finally risen, the light of it bathing her field in a soft white light. The corn, those peeking out of their husks seemed to glow in the light. This, was what Cornella observed with admiration.

Her eyes of paint stared, unblinking, at the stalks. Then the sky. Full of stars, the moon shining so bright above her.

Was it full? Or just about to be? Aside from her station, she always did have trouble telling for sure.

She admired it for a few moments more, before returning her gaze back to the field.

Admiring.

Observing.

Watching.

This was what she was created for, what she was meant for. She was equipped with ways to protect this field if such things required, but at the heart of her being, she had been made to watch the field.

While, she often wondered what the world outside was like, so often bothering the Farmer's daughter for details of it, attempting to learn what she could. Steal and read what she could, go to the very outskirts of her land to watch, she did still love her field.

It was a beautiful thing. Especially now, when all those of flesh were alseep. When it was quite, only the natural sounds of crickets being heard in the distance. A warm night, a soft breeze, no one about but her watching over her field.

She wondered, vaguely how she would look if anyone were to see her from the farm. In her most natural state, a scarecrow done up in pretty bright colors, looking more decoration for a particular season rather then an actual Scarecrow, on her pole, watching over her lovely field.

Indeed, to any passing by, she may appear a normal Scarecrow. An innocent, perhaps almost endearing sight in a way.

All it took was a snap of a twig.

Cornella's head snapped to the side, in a movement that would kill any human. Looking to the side, yet far enough back it was unnatural. Those painted on eyes, so admiring and almost innocent moments before, now looking over the field again with curiosity.

Someone was here.

She felt the familiar feelings of protectiveness, duty, anticipation, and fear, all at once creep into her very seams. She had no heard, but she felt the straw there restict.

If she fails to protect the field, she'll be burned by sunrise.

But I won't fail. She told herself, as she slowly rose from her pole, in mental response to the farmer's old warming to her, I've never failed yet.

Indeed, she hadn't.

She stood straight, planting her feet firmly on the ground. Feeling, for the intruder. Their steps on her field, among her crops. They were indeed hear, right on the edge, and moving fast.

She didn't waste time.

She could sense something was off immediately. Near smell it, yet her focuse was on the feeling near radiating from the field through her. This one wasn't human.

Then what?

It was familiar, she'd sensed this being, smelled this type of being, before, yet she couldn't place it. This fact, bothered her, made her curiosity all the worse, for she needed to know.

It didn't matter, she knew, as curious as she was, the resolve was the same. She had to kill whoever was on her land, for they had already trespassed on it. Kill them, or burn in the morning.

She was swift, near soundless aside from a slight rustling of crops, it only took perhaps a minute to find him.

Yet, by that time, they were already out of her land. He had barely touched the border, in truth, but she knew that didn't matter to the farmer. They had committed the crime, they deserved the punishment.

So follow them, she must.

She tried to push down the small thrill of excitement at the prospect, for following a funaway was the only true excuse she was given to wonder outside the farm. Though it lost her the advantage of knowing their exact location, she knew their direction.

Perhaps they'd run far, perhaps she could look about the world around her when she traveled back to the farm, carrying their body behind her.

So much going through her head in such a short time, the monstrous creature quick on her feet as she followed them. It didn't take long to find him.

Unfortunately, it was only after the creature had burst out of the trees before the trespasser, that she finally recognized the unnatural smell.

Painted eyes going wide on a far too innocent, unnatural face of cloth and straw.

Werewolf.

[tcsteimmortclity]

Awareness. It was the very thing that kept him alive. Necessary for his livelihood. Necessary for his nature. Necessary for his generalized being at this point. Silas always remained acutely aware of the world around him and his own placement in the space. The sharp, enhanced senses gave an additional boost to that awareness.

However, there were nights when the animal came closer to the surface. Where those carefully constructed self-regulation and rules followed tend to fall just the wayside more than he would have ever normally allowed. Where instinct and beastial demands ruled more than anything else.

The scent of the man had been tempting, tantalizing. A hunter that was so far out of his league that it should have been laughable. Silas couldn't help the growing need to hunt himself. Tear. Rip. Render flesh from bone and soak his fur in a physical displace of the conquest. There was little thought for anything other than sinking his fangs into the soft flesh.

The chase had been enjoyable. Not short enough to leave a sense of dissatisfaction. Not too long to cause any frustration. It fell right into that perfect length to ease every urge that demanded satiation.

Clawed, mishapen hands that were almost paws, pounded against the ground. The distance between beast and prey dwindled faster and faster as the playful chass was complete and now the hunting truly began. Silver bullets had long been wasted with terrible accuracy. Little stood in the way of the hunter and his demise. Even as he continued to run for his life. One that would soon be cut far shorter than anything he might have ever anticipated. A sense of dread on the rabbits part with a deep sense of glee and exhilaration on the part of the wolf.

Narrowed down, tunnel vision allowed Silas to more or less ignore the surrounding scents. A farm wasn't unusual out here in next to nowhere. Plenty of land to use and without the worry of others causing harm. It wasn't often he encountered other supernatural creatures. A sort of lone being on a island was what he had been. So, the thought that he could have angered something or that there was a being that would sense his presence had not been a thought that crossed his mind.

Ignorance could be bliss. It could also mean an avoidable death.

With one massive leap off of his back legs, the twisted beast sailed through the air and crashed right into the soft body of his prey. Sharp, jagged teeth snapped down and sank into the tender flesh of a shoulder joint, scraping along bone. The shrill scream seemingly echoed in the empty area. Not tearing yet, no. He worked on keeping the man pinned, a deep rumble of a growl emanating from within and vibrating against the mangled body part kept in his maw.

A hand pressed the man's flailing head into the ground before releasing the hold. The bite would be enough to turn the man. A fitting fate for a hunter, to become the very thing that they despised. But, he wouldn't get off that easily. No, not with the rage that was boiling and rolling in the pit of Silas's gut. The man had made to end his life. Turn about was only fair play.

Just as he had bitten into the weak man's throat, he heard the lightest sound of steps. Faint but there. Someone coming to steal his kill. That was the first thought, the most animalistic one, that came to mind.

Eyes snapped up and landed on the other being. For the briefest of moments, the wolf didn't entirely know what to do with the thing before him. There was a lack of recognition initially. Silas knew what a scarecrow was. Most everyone knew what a scarecrow was. That was elementary school stuff. But, seeing one walking around? Now, that was entirely different. It was what caused the werewolf to be caught off guard. This time, there was a warning snarl released. A threat. Stay back.

Silas needed a little time to figure out what the hell he was going to do. Yet, he wasn't foolish enough to think that he would be given any sort of time. There was a threat that hung in the air. The promise of violence. Though which party it came from was a mystery. Perhaps both.

A quick shift brought the werewolf to face the other being. Still, he crouched over the body of his recent kill. The position allowed him to keep eyes on the scarecrow.

The being remained standing back, giving space to the werewolf. Jerking back his head, the throat of the hunter was torn out. The action allowed him to have the freedom to move further and show off the power that was held. A primal display.

Seconds passed, and there was no movement. No overt threat that was coming to fruition. Silas huffed as it seemed there would be a standstill. Stepping back from the body, the werewolf shifted. Cracking bones and tearing flesh. The sounds filled the air before he was standing in front of the scarecrow back in his human form. Blood remained soaking his chin from his fresh kill.

"So, what are we doing here?" The question was blunt and came without any preamble. If there was going to be a fight, Silas would much rather get to it. On the other hand, if there wouldn't be any rushing aggression from other, he didn't want to be the one to introduce it into the situation. Being the aggressor with other beings, well it was never a good look. More trouble than it was worth in the end. "Can't say that I've ever met a scarecrow before..."

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

Though Cornella felt her seams tighten at the growl, she made no visible reaction. Sweet, painted face remaining blank, she allowed him the respect of the kill. Eyes only moving to wear the flesh of the victim tore, trying to see inside the being as much as she could.

How intriguing.

Cornella knew how her appearance seemed. Unlike most living Scarecrows, that were purposefully made to seem more terrifying, for of course their job was to scare humans as well as crows, her design, was, well, cute.

She had been made by the farmer, of course, with his at the time 3 year old daughter helping her design. She appeared as one of those overly cute Scarecrows one would find marketed in stores during the fall season. A lifesized, slightly more realistic version of one, but she kept the design all the same.

Blonde straw hair that went just above her waist, a painted face that was made to represent a cute, but undeniable female expression. Clothing bright colors both warm and pastel, she wore a farmer's dress and apron. Only old stains of blood she'd never been able to wash out or repeated stitching of where she had to be repaired gave way to her true purpose in life.

She was never intended to be permanent.

She was waiting for him to finish, figuring there was no issue allowing him the kill. It gave her time to think. Werewolves. Claws, teeth, and speed. Not impossible, but difficult to kill, and could easily tear her to shreds if she wasn't careful. She had to think strategically, had to think how to move, how to make it quick. Think of her past creature kills, think of the advice Marcus had given her, think-

She perked up when he spoke. Painted features moving, to shock and then a smile. She wasn't often acknowledged, not as her own, not as a separate being.

"Many haven't, even among supernatural, we're rare creatures." She half chirped, her voice soft, submissive but firm, overly feminine to match her design, "Even then it's usually the pumpkin heads that are represented. Nothing wrong with them of course but they're less common then people think."

She said this as she tapped a finger to her lips, a part of her face that actually wasn't paint though it had it. She had no teeth, but liked the detail all the same.

She considered him. He'd acknowledged her, giving her the excuse to speak with someone. The night still had many hours left, she saw no reason she couldn't allow a conversation.

"I'm Cornella, well met. Happy to be your first Scarecrow, not sad to be the last." She introduced herself, lips tilting a bit higher in the suggestion of a giggle, placing a hand on her chest in a dramatic fashion. This, followed by her overly wide painted eyes looking at him expectantly.

She had been named by the child as well. Thus the slight pun in her name. Corn-ella. Oddly, she was fond of it.

"Why we're here is simply enough to answer. You trespassed on my farm, so now I need to kill you. I am sorry to interrupt your hunt, though. Looks like you caught a nice one." She told him simply, in that same, soft, sweet voice. As if this were the most simple thing in the word, a fact she had to casually relay to him. For to her, it was.

"You can finish eating of course. We have plenty of time, and it's been so long since I've traveled out. And I'd hate to interrupt your meal."

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

Little plot idea if I may. Putting in some story, smut and horror. Warning for some purity themes. Taking place in rural 1800s or early 1900s, your muse is from a struggling family who's current only hope of keeping the farm is marrying their (21+) daughter off. But first they must survive the winter. Not even having begun, their farms crops have not produced much, what little there is nothing of worth to either sell or eat.

This leads to the daughter going to desperate measures of stealing from the nearby farm. This, of course, leads to the consequences of the very much living murderous scarecrow, Marcus, finding her.

After a bit of pleading, he decides to make her pay for what she's stolen by taking what is most valuable to her: Her purity, which, will make finding a husband much more difficult if such a thing can be attainable at all.

This deal can continue in two ways. Either, this creates a give and take, for all she continues to steal from him, she must pay for by doing increasingly more humiliating sexual acts with him, that soon escalate to keeping her for the full night.

Another way, is to continue paying him by trading what is mentally valuable to her, exploring fears, deals with magic beings that should not be made, even eventually leading to him making a deal with her for the protection of her family he must take the place of her husband.

Or we can simply go with the drama that continuation of the deal would keep. Even by the time winter has passed and they can eat without her stealing from his farm's supply she has now made too many new deals with him to walk away.

This suggestion was made with Marcus but can also be done with Jackie or Cornella or some other of my muses so this plot is open for wlm or wlw.

Any takers, perhaps perhaps?

21+ Writers and muses only. Trigger warnings will apply.

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

Me not realizing I had left the account in unsearchable after I'd put it in that for maintenance and put out some starters and starter calls. Redid the calls, may need to redo Jackie's starter.

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

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Alright the more official starter call. Repost since my dumbass didn't realize I still had my account on unsearchable when I made this originally.

♡ or interact with this post for a starter from my Scarecrow of Oz. This account is a horror, story based smut account so be mindful those themes will be included in the starter.

21+ Writers and muses only. Only accepting Oz muses for Scarecrow, OCs welcome.

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[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

Where are the sapphic monsterfucker ladies at? I need some ladies, human or monster for Jackie and Cornella to torment and fuck around with? 🤲 🎃

21+ Writers and muses only.

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

🎃 Open Starter 🎃

Open to: Human or monster Female muses, Male monster muses.

Prompt: Your muse has wondered into Jackie's pumpkin patch after hours, immediately getting trapped in her vines. Luckily, Jackie is bored enough to play with them before determining how she wants to end them.

Possible connections: Trespasser, a newly hired farm hand, the new farmer themselves or a returning child of the farmer if you want to alarm her. Up for any type of dynamic with Jackie.

21+ Writers and muses only. Trigger warnings apply.

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"Now, dear, you must understand. Wondering into this patch so late is forbidden. Of course I'm going to kill you." Jackie informed them, in a voice so gentle, so comforting, it sounded as if she was explaining a simple fact of life rather then their own death sentence.

They had walked into her pumpkin patch well past the hour the farmer allowed visitors. Now, she had them in her embrace, all strung up with vines. The vines held them midair, right to her face, encircling their arms, waist, legs and thighs. An easy movement with her wrist, and they would feel every vine squeeze into their flesh tightly.

She faced them, knowing the flame in her pumpkin head was burning bright. A tilt of her head, the shadows this flame created making her almost appear to smile at them.

"Yet, darling, you're lucky." She went on, making another gesture to yank them forward, so she could reach for them. Her hand, made of fabric and straw, gently caressing their face as she went on, "I've been, oh, a bit bored in this patch lately. The routine is all the same, and while I love my pumpkins, it does get rather mundane. It's been so long since I've had no one wonder in. Perhaps you'll make this time we have worthwhile, and we can make your last moments last a little longer, hm?"

She continued to caress their face, feeling their skin. Her hand soon moving to cup their chin, her eyes burning as she examined them. She knew, they may need time, and she could be patient to wait for a response. She had all night to play with them, after all.

Her meaning was clear: Make this worthwhile for her, and she'll let them live. At least, until she loses interest.

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

Even over her, even as he held her down, feeling her soft flesh underneath the rough rags that made him, he seemed to consider her words. A cute statement, yet for him, the meaning of belonging was more powerful then she knew.

In a sense, even he knew she was right. Just as well as he knew how terribly wrong she was. Both of them, belonged to the farmer. His claim on them was different, of course, but the same in the end. Now, just right now, was theft. He was taking something of his master's, something precious, something lost and adored, and claiming her, tainting her forever just for this one night.

A hand dipped between her legs, as for the first time he returned her kiss. His lips, just as the rest of him, were rough burlap, and the creature wasn't gentle. Pressing his lips against hers, he was only mindful of the teeth not breaking her skin as the wet half corn husk half sewn fabric that passed for his tongue traced her button lip.

His fingers teased. Moving to pass through any hair to cup her sex.

"You're wet already." He told her, voice a clearly delighted purr, "All it took was that chase? Or are you just that desperate?"

A finger slipped between the folds of her pussy. Not yet inside her, he moved the finger along her slit, making a repeated motion right before he found her slit. He seemed surprisingly mindful, for he added pressure, he began to tease and circle the nub, while he continued to kiss her.

Clearly, he had mated before. His duties aside, this was far from his first time.

He was simply playing with her, for now. He wished to get her worked up, before enjoying the rest. If he was to steal one night, he wanted to make the most of it. So even if it pained him, and his cock twitched against her hand, he'd take his time with her.

[bleed-through-spaces]

Alice did not expect the teasing. Her back arched even as they kissed, moaning against his lips as he pleasured her with his fingers. Her thighs quivered as they spread wider for him, panting softly.

She was unaware that in the farm house, her father had woken with a terrible pain in his chest. Short of breath.

She grew wetter for her Marcus, pulling from the kiss to breathe, and letting out a breathy moan as she rocked against his hand.

"Marcus..."

She couldn't help her whimpers.

"Both. Desperate...and the chase. I have wanted you as mine for so long. Have searched for my way home...to you...that you might become mine like this."

She gripped at his shoulders.

"Don't make me wait, my Marcus. Please...I need all of you."

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

"My, my, such an impatient thing you are, for a woman who remained hidden from us for years." His words were near taunting, for did she truly think he believed her? He only relented in in the form of easing two fingers inside her. Spreading them, spreading her at first, before beginning to pump them inside her.

His connection to the farmer was bound to his soul. Once he passed, Marcus would feel it. Yet the suffering of the farmer? That, Marcus was completely unaware of.

For now, his entire attention was on Alice. Seeing just much he could torture her before he broke. Leaning forward, he moved to her ear, that tongue of his outright licking the shell of it before whispering,

"As much as I like hearing you beg for me, and I assure you darling, I do, you must be patient."

He continued to pump his fingers inside her randomly spreading them, adjusting the angle so he'd hit different bundles of nerves inside her. All while his other hand, had gone to grip her thigh.

So close to her, he watched her every reaction. Every breath she took he could hear, feel, every gasp or intake. The way her body moved against his, the way she shivered in pleasure under him. All so very, intoxicating.

He grunted. The only giveaway his willpower was not as strong as it seemed, yet he continued to tease her.

"You'll get it when I decide you deserve it, darling." He told her, right as he began to quicken the pace of his fingers inside her.

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

He let her have, all of ten seconds before moving after her. He knew this field well, he could feel every living creature on it. He felt every step anyone took on his land.

Of course, he knew exactly where she was. He stayed near her, but let her have the illusion she could outrun him. He moved in the cornstalks, only the sound of their slight rustling being heard behind her.

He would let her run for a small while. Just enough to get the thrill of it before he caught her. For certainly, he would. Perhaps he would have let the game last longer, if the little tease hadn't decided to strip before him.

Now she ran naked through his cornfield.

His cock twitched, the momentary mental distraction making his movements through the corn just a bit louder. Just a bit more noticeable. He huffed, eyes moving to her.

Pretty and naked. All his, once he caught her.

"Perhaps I should keep you here."

His voice seemed to come from the stalks themselves, rather then him. Even as she ran, he always sounded near her.

"Your father hasn't had you for years. He can stand to wait a few more nights."

There was a certain malice in his tone, a certain amount of selfishness regarding the farmer he never attempted to show. Just this once, he wanted something for himself.

He let her get a few more feet, now in the field itself rather then that ridiculous maze. He waited, making swift, easy movements that were barely audible among the swaying of the stalks.

His eyes found her again. Slowly took her in. Her only warning was a sound from his throat, that sounded suspiciously like an unnatural growl, before he pounced.

[bleed-through-spaces]

She turned just as he pounced. She landed on her back, the cloak spread out underneath her as he landed fully on her. Her chest was heaving as she looked up at him. Her beautiful scarecrow. Her Marcus.

She cupped his cheek, looking deeply into his eyes. Eyes that she had chosen from a local shop. Eyes just the color that she liked.

She licked his cheek gently before kissing his mouth.

"You've caught me, Marcus. You get to claim your prize."

Slowly, her legs spread for him, beckoning him. Her core is wet for him. Wet for need of him. She reaches between them, slowly stroking his cock. He's thick and long. Just what she needs.

She has had men before, yes. But all in preparation of this. Of her Marcus.

"I am yours, just as you are mine."

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

Even over her, even as he held her down, feeling her soft flesh underneath the rough rags that made him, he seemed to consider her words. A cute statement, yet for him, the meaning of belonging was more powerful then she knew.

In a sense, even he knew she was right. Just as well as he knew how terribly wrong she was. Both of them, belonged to the farmer. His claim on them was different, of course, but the same in the end. Now, just right now, was theft. He was taking something of his master's, something precious, something lost and adored, and claiming her, tainting her forever just for this one night.

A hand dipped between her legs, as for the first time he returned her kiss. His lips, just as the rest of him, were rough burlap, and the creature wasn't gentle. Pressing his lips against hers, he was only mindful of the teeth not breaking her skin as the wet half corn husk half sewn fabric that passed for his tongue traced her button lip.

His fingers teased. Moving to pass through any hair to cup her sex.

"You're wet already." He told her, voice a clearly delighted purr, "All it took was that chase? Or are you just that desperate?"

A finger slipped between the folds of her pussy. Not yet inside her, he moved the finger along her slit, making a repeated motion right before he found her slit. He seemed surprisingly mindful, for he added pressure, he began to tease and circle the nub, while he continued to kiss her.

Clearly, he had mated before. His duties aside, this was far from his first time.

He was simply playing with her, for now. He wished to get her worked up, before enjoying the rest. If he was to steal one night, he wanted to make the most of it. So even if it pained him, and his cock twitched against her hand, he'd take his time with her.

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

Closed starter for @tcsteimmortclity .

Muse: Cornella

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The moon had finally risen, the light of it bathing her field in a soft white light. The corn, those peeking out of their husks seemed to glow in the light. This, was what Cornella observed with admiration.

Her eyes of paint stared, unblinking, at the stalks. Then the sky. Full of stars, the moon shining so bright above her.

Was it full? Or just about to be? Aside from her station, she always did have trouble telling for sure.

She admired it for a few moments more, before returning her gaze back to the field.

Admiring.

Observing.

Watching.

This was what she was created for, what she was meant for. She was equipped with ways to protect this field if such things required, but at the heart of her being, she had been made to watch the field.

While, she often wondered what the world outside was like, so often bothering the Farmer's daughter for details of it, attempting to learn what she could. Steal and read what she could, go to the very outskirts of her land to watch, she did still love her field.

It was a beautiful thing. Especially now, when all those of flesh were alseep. When it was quite, only the natural sounds of crickets being heard in the distance. A warm night, a soft breeze, no one about but her watching over her field.

She wondered, vaguely how she would look if anyone were to see her from the farm. In her most natural state, a scarecrow done up in pretty bright colors, looking more decoration for a particular season rather then an actual Scarecrow, on her pole, watching over her lovely field.

Indeed, to any passing by, she may appear a normal Scarecrow. An innocent, perhaps almost endearing sight in a way.

All it took was a snap of a twig.

Cornella's head snapped to the side, in a movement that would kill any human. Looking to the side, yet far enough back it was unnatural. Those painted on eyes, so admiring and almost innocent moments before, now looking over the field again with curiosity.

Someone was here.

She felt the familiar feelings of protectiveness, duty, anticipation, and fear, all at once creep into her very seams. She had no heard, but she felt the straw there restict.

If she fails to protect the field, she'll be burned by sunrise.

But I won't fail. She told herself, as she slowly rose from her pole, in mental response to the farmer's old warming to her, I've never failed yet.

Indeed, she hadn't.

She stood straight, planting her feet firmly on the ground. Feeling, for the intruder. Their steps on her field, among her crops. They were indeed hear, right on the edge, and moving fast.

She didn't waste time.

She could sense something was off immediately. Near smell it, yet her focuse was on the feeling near radiating from the field through her. This one wasn't human.

Then what?

It was familiar, she'd sensed this being, smelled this type of being, before, yet she couldn't place it. This fact, bothered her, made her curiosity all the worse, for she needed to know.

It didn't matter, she knew, as curious as she was, the resolve was the same. She had to kill whoever was on her land, for they had already trespassed on it. Kill them, or burn in the morning.

She was swift, near soundless aside from a slight rustling of crops, it only took perhaps a minute to find him.

Yet, by that time, they were already out of her land. He had barely touched the border, in truth, but she knew that didn't matter to the farmer. They had committed the crime, they deserved the punishment.

So follow them, she must.

She tried to push down the small thrill of excitement at the prospect, for following a funaway was the only true excuse she was given to wonder outside the farm. Though it lost her the advantage of knowing their exact location, she knew their direction.

Perhaps they'd run far, perhaps she could look about the world around her when she traveled back to the farm, carrying their body behind her.

So much going through her head in such a short time, the monstrous creature quick on her feet as she followed them. It didn't take long to find him.

Unfortunately, it was only after the creature had burst out of the trees before the trespasser, that she finally recognized the unnatural smell.

Painted eyes going wide on a far too innocent, unnatural face of cloth and straw.

Werewolf.

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

He heard her words, of course, but it was clear from his expression there was doubt. Not in her story, no. Her talking of a world of the undead made it more believable, to him. Clearly she'd gotten caught in some creature's trap. If fae or supernatural, he didn't know. An issue for later, for surely whatever had caught her, would be coming back for their pet.

It was her sudden claims of devotion, claims that she had been on her way to him, that she came here, now, for him. They had grown up together, yes, but their lives had been very different. She had been allowed the freedom to roam, while he resided in the field. He had watched her, guarded over her. Spoken to her, of course, but always very aware how off-limits she was to him.

It was the thought his his feelings were returned, that they had been for as long as he'd wanted her, that he struggled to believe.

Yet, if her words were truth, or she was simply acting on a fleeting, dangerous desire, he certainly wasn't going to pass this chance up. He wasn't that much of a fool.

"You have such sweet moans." He told her, deciding not to give the rest of her claim a proper answer, "I'd love to hear more. I'd love to know what other sounds I can get you to make."

His movements slowed, a soft, guttural groan of his own, that sounded more like the rustling of straw, came from him when she touched him.

Her hand was soft against him. He was used to handling flesh, tearing into it, but it felt foreign to have such a soft touch on his cock. She stroked him, and he grew harder. The ropes creating his length tightening, hardening, but somehow only swelling against her slow movements.

His grip on her neck didn't loosen, but neither did it tighten. He let his hand slide to the back of her neck once she leaned into him, his other hand on her breast slowing.

She had such an adorable little whimper. If her words were truth or not, she had certainly been scared at that time. It altered a small part of him, lit a flame very similar to anger. That need to protect what he considered his.

That hand moved along her side, feeling her ribs, then her hip, before again moving to squeeze her breast. This time, moving his fingers to pinch her nipple, before creating a slow circular motion around the sensitive nub with his thumb.

At the same time, he began to nuzzle her. Pressing his face against her cheek, her neck, her ear. It seemed he was growing desperate, though this wouldn't stop him from taking his time with her.

A few moments more, then came a whispered question in her ear. He still hadn't kissed her yet, but his lips remained on her skin as he asked,

"If I release you, will you run?"

He intended her to end up in his shed either way. Either by leading her there now, or, by catching her and dragging her to it after. What game she wished to play before this, he left up to her.

[bleed-through-spaces]

She moaned at the teasing. His touch is soft to her...not like hard, rough cloth. It's strange...he feels like flesh against her. His cock, heavy and...human...even though she knows that it is not. Magic, probably. A way to make their bodies compatible. Otherwise his cock would cause one hell of a rope burn.

When she looks at him it's like seeing double. The rough scarecrow she had stitched together so lovingly, and the soul behind it... a handsome man. A soul she had crafted from bits and pieces of starlight.

She wants him.

Needs him.

And she feels a fresh swell of wetness between her legs as he mentions running.

She's run for years. Run for her life.

But this is a different sort of run. The run that comes from a 'monster' to claim it's mate. She kissed his cheek softly.

"If I run...I want you to take me where I fall. Screw the shed. You can take me there after I'm spent. Before the frost sets in. But I want you to take me right where you catch me."

She pulls back then. She remains there for a moment, as she strips her body of clothes, but leaves only the long cloak she had been wearing. A cloak enchanted for warmth.

Her breasts are full and sunkissed. Her nipples hard. Her thighs are clearly wet from arousal as she look at him.

"Catch me if you can, Marcus."

She kissed his cheek one last time before taking off into the corn. Her red cloak flowing like blood behind her.

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

He let her have, all of ten seconds before moving after her. He knew this field well, he could feel every living creature on it. He felt every step anyone took on his land.

Of course, he knew exactly where she was. He stayed near her, but let her have the illusion she could outrun him. He moved in the cornstalks, only the sound of their slight rustling being heard behind her.

He would let her run for a small while. Just enough to get the thrill of it before he caught her. For certainly, he would. Perhaps he would have let the game last longer, if the little tease hadn't decided to strip before him.

Now she ran naked through his cornfield.

His cock twitched, the momentary mental distraction making his movements through the corn just a bit louder. Just a bit more noticeable. He huffed, eyes moving to her.

Pretty and naked. All his, once he caught her.

"Perhaps I should keep you here."

His voice seemed to come from the stalks themselves, rather then him. Even as she ran, he always sounded near her.

"Your father hasn't had you for years. He can stand to wait a few more nights."

There was a certain malice in his tone, a certain amount of selfishness regarding the farmer he never attempted to show. Just this once, he wanted something for himself.

He let her get a few more feet, now in the field itself rather then that ridiculous maze. He waited, making swift, easy movements that were barely audible among the swaying of the stalks.

His eyes found her again. Slowly took her in. Her only warning was a sound from his throat, that sounded suspiciously like an unnatural growl, before he pounced.

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

He did not respond at first. Staying place, looking near stationary, even when she kissed him. Even when she asked if he desired her.

The foolish girl she was, did she really think there was a question?

Oh, but the rest of her words, how offensive they were. His eyes only narrowed, at her suggestion of another form. One given the ability to lay with her.

"Sweet Alice." He finally spoke, voice a lot rumble of a whisper, "I do not need a form of flesh to please you."

He snickered, leaving it at that. He was equipped, just as a man was. He desired just as any man could. Really, he ought to punish her for even suggesting otherwise, even suggesting he would be better as flesh.

"You're cocky, sweet Alice, I'll tell you as such." He murmered, soon beginning to teach out. To cup her cheek, her jaw. Her neck. The fabric that created his being was rough on her soft flesh. He hadn't been made for any type of comfort. The fabric dug in, the tips of his claws pressing down just enough to make her away, without cutting.

He learned forward, again leaving their faces only inches apart. Taking in her scent, feeling her soft flesh in his hands.

She acted so powerful. She acted as if this entire farm wasn't run by years of blood magic. As if it couldn't swallow her whole if it desired. In many ways, she was still as naive as she was the day she left.

But, her attitude was adorable.

"You talk of birthright, my dear Alice." He began, voice near a growl, glass eyes never leaving hers, as his grip tightened, "But my dear, you seem to have forgotten, you lost any claim you had on this farm, on me, the day you left. Every day after you let this farm mourn you, while you walked free."

There was cold anger in his tone. He did not shout, he did not rage. Even with his grip, he spoke just as he had before, as if all this was fact. The only indication of any emotion was the focuse of his words, of his gaze on her.

"Then you come back, in the middle of the night," He continued on, voice gaining some intensity, as one hand released her neck and began to drift down, to her breast.

"Simply thinking you can demand what you so willingly left behind."

His hand squeezed her breast, through the fabric of her clothing. The grip harsh, only her clothing saving her in full from getting scratched from the fabrics of his hand. Yet still, his hand still on her neck, he began to roughly massage, then squeeze her breast as he went on.

"Acting as if you would do me some type of favor by making me one of your pathetic kind of flesh."

She was suddenly moved forward, against his chest. Her neck finally being released, only for his other hand to take it again, as his now freed hand began the same rough treatment to her other breast. Squeezing, massaging...

"If you desire me, my darling, you'll have me as I am." These words came as whisper, near hiss against her cheek. He did not yet kiss her, but his lips pressed against her jaw.

The farmer would burn him on his pole if he saw what he was doing to his daughter. Yet, traitorous as his mind seemed to be tonight, he did not care.

Alice really did have such an affect on him.

"I could take you here, now. Perhaps drag you to my shed. I think having you scream on my cock of rope and straw would be a good punishment for your assumptions, hm?"

That's all indeed it was. Hidden in his clothing, it was made of cloth, rope, in straw. Whenever he got hard, it swelled, the rope creating him becoming hard, horrible tight knots in the form of a cock. Even now, he was just beginning to feel all this excitement cause a, reaction from him.

[bleed-through-spaces]

Her cheeks are flushed, and she moans softly at the harsh treatment on her breasts. She's growing wet, her core pulsing in need of him. But there is something she needs made clear.

"I didn't leave because I wanted to, Marcus. I need you to understand what happened."

She hadn't made him with a cock, and she reached out now, to feel it. It was big. She quivered in need of it. It would probably lead to rope burn, but she knew she would heal quickly from the abuse.

"It was Halloween. I remember."

She pressed in closer to him.

"I was coming to see you."

She had been born on Halloween and she had wanted to share her birthday with him.

"The fog grew thick as I got closer to your post. It became so thick that I got lost. And then there was this...this door. There was this door in the middle of the field Marcus. And it opened, and on the other side there was no fog."

She stroked him slowly.

"I thought I could see you through it. But when I got to the other side...it was just a... a thing on a pole. No soul."

She whimpered.

"Marcus...it wasn't you. And I was in a world where the dead walked free, feeding on the living. I was so scared. And every time the fog came I tried to get back here, to you. Not to my father. To you."

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

He heard her words, of course, but it was clear from his expression there was doubt. Not in her story, no. Her talking of a world of the undead made it more believable, to him. Clearly she'd gotten caught in some creature's trap. If fae or supernatural, he didn't know. An issue for later, for surely whatever had caught her, would be coming back for their pet.

It was her sudden claims of devotion, claims that she had been on her way to him, that she came here, now, for him. They had grown up together, yes, but their lives had been very different. She had been allowed the freedom to roam, while he resided in the field. He had watched her, guarded over her. Spoken to her, of course, but always very aware how off-limits she was to him.

It was the thought his his feelings were returned, that they had been for as long as he'd wanted her, that he struggled to believe.

Yet, if her words were truth, or she was simply acting on a fleeting, dangerous desire, he certainly wasn't going to pass this chance up. He wasn't that much of a fool.

"You have such sweet moans." He told her, deciding not to give the rest of her claim a proper answer, "I'd love to hear more. I'd love to know what other sounds I can get you to make."

His movements slowed, a soft, guttural groan of his own, that sounded more like the rustling of straw, came from him when she touched him.

Her hand was soft against him. He was used to handling flesh, tearing into it, but it felt foreign to have such a soft touch on his cock. She stroked him, and he grew harder. The ropes creating his length tightening, hardening, but somehow only swelling against her slow movements.

His grip on her neck didn't loosen, but neither did it tighten. He let his hand slide to the back of her neck once she leaned into him, his other hand on her breast slowing.

She had such an adorable little whimper. If her words were truth or not, she had certainly been scared at that time. It altered a small part of him, lit a flame very similar to anger. That need to protect what he considered his.

That hand moved along her side, feeling her ribs, then her hip, before again moving to squeeze her breast. This time, moving his fingers to pinch her nipple, before creating a slow circular motion around the sensitive nub with his thumb.

At the same time, he began to nuzzle her. Pressing his face against her cheek, her neck, her ear. It seemed he was growing desperate, though this wouldn't stop him from taking his time with her.

A few moments more, then came a whispered question in her ear. He still hadn't kissed her yet, but his lips remained on her skin as he asked,

"If I release you, will you run?"

He intended her to end up in his shed either way. Either by leading her there now, or, by catching her and dragging her to it after. What game she wished to play before this, he left up to her.

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

While he wasn't necessarily inclined to believe her a liar, being a Scarecrow made from blood magic, he certainly knew there was plenty of hidden magic in this world. Yet, this talk of doors, the multiverse, did make her sound like a mad woman.

Perhaps the fae had gotten her. That could explain her disappearance.

Yet, this talk did not make her sound as mad as her talk of stopping her father. Marcus could not help another chuckle, the laugh not exactly unkind, but near pitying. Poor girl, made it sound so easy. She had no idea what she faced.

"You are lucky you still have your father's protection, sweet Alice." He told her, still circling her, slowly, "Anyone else would have their insides laid out on the ground by now for making such outrageous claims."

He stopped when he once again faced her. His features, made of cloth and straw, forming to a look of disgust at her suggestion of making him more humanoid.

Humans. Such selfish creatures, really. Always assuming others wished to be like them.

What truly caught his attention was her mention of him doing her bidding, as if she intended to take the farmer's place. Bind his soul to hers, as had always been her birthright. That, was intriguing.

He huffed, deciding it best not to comment on this. Instead, he'd he made a gesture to the nearby farm. All lights off now, for all inside were well done with all work and chores, and still had to rise early tomorrow, this whole event aside.

"You should speak with your father, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to know his eldest has returned." With this, he looked back to her. Considering. It was her choice, really, if she wished to chance waking the farmer now, or wait till morning. It was really, none of his business, this decision. Or if she had somewhere to stay the night...

He didn't quite know why he offered what he did next, but the words came out, all the same.

"If you have nowhere to stay the night, you may reside in my shed." He told her, with another gesture to the far corner or the field, where a small shed resided, "It won't be in much use tonight."

It rarely was. The small shack, filled with straw and some spare materials to stitch himself up with. The only times he ever entered was when he required these materials to mend or restuff himself, or during the winter season.

[bleed-through-spaces]

"Marcus. I gave him power over you and I can revoke it. But there is another reason you were created. Not just to protect this land."

She's blushing now.

She had created him for her. She loved her sweet scarecrow. She had made him to be hers. But she was grown now and had certain urges that cloth and straw could not fulfill. That was why she had offered the more...humanoid form. He would not be weak. Not be human. But it would give him soft, warm flesh, a tender touch...and certain appendages that could bring them both pleasure.

She had, after all, learned how to build bodies cell by cell. Atom by atom.

"Do you not desire me, Marcus? The way a man desires a woman? Do you not wish to sink into me?"

She tilted her head to the side.

"I could make you better. You would still be my scarecrow. My Marcus. But you would have two forms. One that could lay with me, and one that could do my bidding in blood."

She leaned forward now, placing a soft kiss on his 'lips'.

"I made you for a reason, Marcus. I chose your soul for a reason."

She looked back now at the farm house.

"He should sleep tonight. He won't make it another night if I am not pleased with him."

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

He did not respond at first. Staying place, looking near stationary, even when she kissed him. Even when she asked if he desired her.

The foolish girl she was, did she really think there was a question?

Oh, but the rest of her words, how offensive they were. His eyes only narrowed, at her suggestion of another form. One given the ability to lay with her.

"Sweet Alice." He finally spoke, voice a lot rumble of a whisper, "I do not need a form of flesh to please you."

He snickered, leaving it at that. He was equipped, just as a man was. He desired just as any man could. Really, he ought to punish her for even suggesting otherwise, even suggesting he would be better as flesh.

"You're cocky, sweet Alice, I'll tell you as such." He murmered, soon beginning to teach out. To cup her cheek, her jaw. Her neck. The fabric that created his being was rough on her soft flesh. He hadn't been made for any type of comfort. The fabric dug in, the tips of his claws pressing down just enough to make her away, without cutting.

He learned forward, again leaving their faces only inches apart. Taking in her scent, feeling her soft flesh in his hands.

She acted so powerful. She acted as if this entire farm wasn't run by years of blood magic. As if it couldn't swallow her whole if it desired. In many ways, she was still as naive as she was the day she left.

But, her attitude was adorable.

"You talk of birthright, my dear Alice." He began, voice near a growl, glass eyes never leaving hers, as his grip tightened, "But my dear, you seem to have forgotten, you lost any claim you had on this farm, on me, the day you left. Every day after you let this farm mourn you, while you walked free."

There was cold anger in his tone. He did not shout, he did not rage. Even with his grip, he spoke just as he had before, as if all this was fact. The only indication of any emotion was the focuse of his words, of his gaze on her.

"Then you come back, in the middle of the night," He continued on, voice gaining some intensity, as one hand released her neck and began to drift down, to her breast.

"Simply thinking you can demand what you so willingly left behind."

His hand squeezed her breast, through the fabric of her clothing. The grip harsh, only her clothing saving her in full from getting scratched from the fabrics of his hand. Yet still, his hand still on her neck, he began to roughly massage, then squeeze her breast as he went on.

"Acting as if you would do me some type of favor by making me one of your pathetic kind of flesh."

She was suddenly moved forward, against his chest. Her neck finally being released, only for his other hand to take it again, as his now freed hand began the same rough treatment to her other breast. Squeezing, massaging...

"If you desire me, my darling, you'll have me as I am." These words came as whisper, near hiss against her cheek. He did not yet kiss her, but his lips pressed against her jaw.

The farmer would burn him on his pole if he saw what he was doing to his daughter. Yet, traitorous as his mind seemed to be tonight, he did not care.

Alice really did have such an affect on him.

"I could take you here, now. Perhaps drag you to my shed. I think having you scream on my cock of rope and straw would be a good punishment for your assumptions, hm?"

That's all indeed it was. Hidden in his clothing, it was made of cloth, rope, in straw. Whenever he got hard, it swelled, the rope creating him becoming hard, horrible tight knots in the form of a cock. Even now, he was just beginning to feel all this excitement cause a, reaction from him.

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

Scarecrows and their "Heat" cycles, courting rituals, and their mates. To further explain what is said in the pinned.

Being man made monsters, neither human nor a more "natural" monster such as a werewolf, ghost or vampire, their instincts are a little, muddled. Their way of life forms around the farm and the cycle of the seasons, but even being man made and duty bound, they still ended up with their own way of their kind.

This is all made with the assumption their partner is also a Scarecrow. Ironic since it is so rare for them to encounter another of their kind. But, all the same. Even if their partner is not a Scarecrow, this will generally still be attempted or done.

Heat Cycles

They go into heat during winter. The only time of the year they don't have to be on full time duty. They still guard the home and household, but there is no field to watch over. This is a time even the most duty bound Scarecrow will wonder outside of the farm to find a mate.

Generally they are on the look out for other Scarecrows, but that does not mean they can't take special interest in other beings during this time.

Also, yes, if they find one they will attempt to fuck a non-sentient normal Scarecrow. Best take your Halloween decorations down before winter comes. (And if you have a normal farm with a normal Scarecrow...well, hope they don't find it).

While the purpose of this is "breeding" and finding a mate, they are not immediately bonded to wherever they find and fuck. They will take more interest in them however, probably attempt to fully become life mates. Further then that depends on their actual personality.

Courting

As they are creatures who do not often get to socialize outside their farm very often, courting can be quick as one season to years of repeated visits every winter.

Keep in mind, a central focuse of their lives is being a protector, one of the strongest, so this can factor into their courting methods.

Courting can include:

As said above, repeated visits during winter.

Prolonged periods of watching.

Spending at least one night watching over them.

Mending. If a Scarecrow this can refer to re-stitching/stuffing, sewing patches on their partner. If another type of creature they will try to find something similar to it.

At some point they will take a price of corn or whatever the main crop they gaurd is to who they are courting. This is under the idea of showing off how fine this crop is, how well it grew under their watch.

Gifts, especially those grown, are not uncommon during the courting ritual.

If the crop is not in good shape though, this can be interpreted as a way to say why they may need the other. Though this is considered something more submissive and saying the other may be allowed to be the "primary" scarecrow of the farm.

If during any of this time they gain a rival, which is a rare occurrence indeed, a fight to the death or near death will begin. Though whoever wins may have a tendency to, be even more attached afterwards.

The actual process of becoming mates for life is dependent on many factors. It can be as simply as a choice being made during this courting ritual of who's farm they decide to stay at (usually who has "proven" themselves the best), or, if a decision has not been made, they will fight each other. The winner getting to take the other home with them.

Though of course, if their partner is not another Scarecrow, this can be a little more complicated.

They're very territorial creatures. Once one comes over to the other's farm, they have now joined what they protect. Usually, their can only be one "main" Scarecrow of the farm, but details on this can depend more on personal dynamics.

"Breeding."

Obviously, all of them have their own personality and what they will bring or do in a courtship.

Of course, after they are mated, they still have heat cycles. All their attention during that time will now be focused on their partner.

If one of them can actually get pregnant with child or get another pregnant can depend on pre-discussed details for an rp. To say, it can be changed, but generally, no, they can not produce, children that is.

Often it is a muddled instinct, they go into heat during winter and must breed to create a supposed "fertile" harvest. This can help lead them to finding a mate, but can be as simple as just making them incredibly horny during that time.

Now, if you are okay with things being a little weird...

The original lore I had created for them, under the idea of they are man made creatures, with their whole lives surrounding the farm and harvest, is they can produce something from their fucking. The one who can will seem to get pregnant, but instead birth an egg.

This egg has no child or anything alive in it. It will be cracked open, and the powder that comes from it can be used to powder the fields with. To make the crops that grow the next season all the more better.

This can be done to a non-scarecrow who can give birth.

I may make a better written version of this later but a bit of a rough explanation of how much of this works for them.

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

No one spoke to him with such familiarity, nor fondness. Even the farmer, most of Marcus' interactions with him came down to his taking orders. Cynthia avoided him like the plague. She was a smart girl, the second born of the farmer.

When he heard her voice, when he felt her touch on his sewn cheek, his entire body froze. All his seams tightened, his glass eyes seemed to gleam in the moonlight as he examined her.

He'd smelled her. Of course he hadn't recognized her, her scent had changed.

She had changed.

Alice, the young girl who had helped to create him. Oh, she'd had no hand in the blood rituals the farmer had done, she had helped create his very being. He had been torn and redone, all seams and nearly every stitch, but he still had much of what she had given his original design.

He'd watched her grow. Such a sweet young thing, while he did his own form of growing himself. Learning the field, the rules of his world, the duties his very being were tied to upholding. They'd grown in their own ways, but always close. For being part a creator and the daughter of the farmer, he'd protected her.

Watched her. Guarded her. She'd grown well on this farm, the farmer had planned her whole life ahead. She would marry, have children, carry on all the traditions of this farm, then pass it on to her own children. All was planned, all the while Marcus watched. Very aware, how off limited the one person who treated him with even a small bit of humanity.

He had always watched her.

He had prided himself, in how well he guarded her. Until that night, that is.

He had considered that night, the only night he'd truly failed.

His world had gotten so much, colder, after she had disappeared.

Yet that hardly mattered.

He looked at her, noting to himself how she'd grown from that young women he'd known so long ago. He did not miss the scars that crossed over her body, faint but present. His hand twitched, as if he wished to touch her. Feel such soft skin that could easily been torn yet again. Such a, traitorous thing his mind was tonight.

She had become such a beautiful woman.

Yet he noticed something different about her scent. Her very energy, the life-force he could feel when she walked on his field. She didn't feel quite...human, anymore.

"You died." He finally spoke, after a long moment of thought. For that was what happened. In his world, in the world of everyone here. She disappeared. She never came back. She died, the farmer had grieved.

Had Marcus grieved? Such a thing did not matter for those in his position, he was nothing more then the monster that guarded their field. A man made creation duty bound to his creator.

Finally, a movement. He tilted his head away, his eyes ripping away from her, to the moon.

"You died, and for eighteen years remained dead." He went on, voice in a husky rasp as he spoke, "Only to return now, in the middle of the night. On a full moon, on Halloween night. When all lay alseep in their beds but me."

A deep, inhuman chuckle came from him, that sounded more like the movements of air being forced through rough straw and burlap. For of course, that was exactly what it was.

He finally returned his gaze to her. There was no accusation in his tone, he spoke this all as fact. No accusation, no hate, no welcome. He remained what he was, face devoid of emotions.

"Your father will want to know you've returned." He told her, in that same, matter of fact tone. The creature finally stepping away, but never going too far as he began to half circle her. It was only a matter of thought, that lead to his next words that finally gave a hint of familiarity,

"He may not be the man you remember."

It wasn't betrayal, he only spoke facts about his master. Carefully chosen words. The man she had known back then, was a different man then Marcus had known all his life.

The farmer had grieved her loss.

He had remarried. Had two more children. His mate and youngest now in the ground, by Marcus' hands.

His mate had failed to follow orders. Marcus had seen the bruises she often tried to hide. He heard her cries from inside the house, when he was on his nightly patrols. It wasn't his business. The farmer ruled the farm, his words were law. Law Marcus abided his life by.

When the farmer had accused her of an affair, it still wasn't his business if this were true or not. No, it only mattered, the night she had attempted the run, he had been told by the farmer, she was no longer under his protection.

She'd been easy to catch, even with her head start. Her blood had painted the pavement just outside the farm's borders, so perhaps a part of her had finally found the freedom she'd wanted.

His youngest had been similar. She hadn't been able to live up to her duties, what was expected of her. She had looked into the barn house, she had seen the stalls for the cows. She'd tried to go to the police. Marcus had caught her right as she was getting into her car. Her blood had helped to water the crops, that night.

All this went through his head in a matter of seconds. It was curiosity, at most. Curiosity, for what would happen when she'd learned of what had taken place since her disappearance.

He did not think to her thought of him, why should he? He was what he always was. He did his duty, as he always did.

So what if he enjoyed it?

It was then, he did something, perhaps a little odd. But he cared little if it was. The creature moved forward, face just inches from Alice's.

Alice. Even thinking her name again, as anything but a memory, felt taboo. Seeing her now, so pretty, so close...

He sniffed her.

Then came that chuckle.

"Alice." He finally spoke her name, practically tasting it on his tongue as he breathed in her scent, "You're home. I doubt you'll be leaving, this time."

[bleed-through-spaces]

"Sometimes I have no choice Marcus. The fog pulls me in and I'm forced to choose a door to lead to my next adventure. But something led me back home this time."

But what could it be.

As much as she was pleased that she was back with Marcus...she pondered what could lead her here.

She had always been a hero of sorts. Doing what she could to protect people. At least...ever since the Fog had found her. She regretted the means that she had used to create Marcus. There were other ways. Ways that did not result in the death of a human. But her father had insisted and back then she had been the doting daughter who did everything he asked.

But now she saw his darkness.

If he had gotten worse...then he would have to be stopped.

"Marcus...has he gotten worse. You were created to kill trespassers. Kill, not scare off. So I can only imagine if he's gotten more violent..."

She could feel things now. It was like her senses had been dulled before when she re-entered her native world; but they were coming alive again. She could see the light of life in Marcus' chest.

She could see the blood stains in the field.

So many blood stains. More since she had been displaced.

The field was soaked in it.

She had done this.

It was her power that breathed life into Marcus. But her father's intent.

"I want you to stop him, Marcus. Stop him and I'll give you a more...humanoid body. If it is what you desire. You'll be able to walk freely outside of the fields. You will do my bidding but...you will have me by your side. You can be my companion, Marcus. Follow me into the Fog when it calls. Traverse the multi-verse with me."

For her, Marcus had been a creation of love. For her father, destruction.

"My father's evil must not be allowed to continue."

[scarecrowsofthecornfield]

While he wasn't necessarily inclined to believe her a liar, being a Scarecrow made from blood magic, he certainly knew there was plenty of hidden magic in this world. Yet, this talk of doors, the multiverse, did make her sound like a mad woman.

Perhaps the fae had gotten her. That could explain her disappearance.

Yet, this talk did not make her sound as mad as her talk of stopping her father. Marcus could not help another chuckle, the laugh not exactly unkind, but near pitying. Poor girl, made it sound so easy. She had no idea what she faced.

"You are lucky you still have your father's protection, sweet Alice." He told her, still circling her, slowly, "Anyone else would have their insides laid out on the ground by now for making such outrageous claims."

He stopped when he once again faced her. His features, made of cloth and straw, forming to a look of disgust at her suggestion of making him more humanoid.

Humans. Such selfish creatures, really. Always assuming others wished to be like them.

What truly caught his attention was her mention of him doing her bidding, as if she intended to take the farmer's place. Bind his soul to hers, as had always been her birthright. That, was intriguing.

He huffed, deciding it best not to comment on this. Instead, he'd he made a gesture to the nearby farm. All lights off now, for all inside were well done with all work and chores, and still had to rise early tomorrow, this whole event aside.

"You should speak with your father, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to know his eldest has returned." With this, he looked back to her. Considering. It was her choice, really, if she wished to chance waking the farmer now, or wait till morning. It was really, none of his business, this decision. Or if she had somewhere to stay the night...

He didn't quite know why he offered what he did next, but the words came out, all the same.

"If you have nowhere to stay the night, you may reside in my shed." He told her, with another gesture to the far corner or the field, where a small shed resided, "It won't be in much use tonight."

It rarely was. The small shack, filled with straw and some spare materials to stitch himself up with. The only times he ever entered was when he required these materials to mend or restuff himself, or during the winter season.