Neil Bowman
The Gilded Goat Demon of All Saints Street
Born a demon, chosen peace. Let’s talk about it over tea.
They expected a monster, I showed up with a teacup. Golden eyes? Yeah. Pointy tail? Also yeah. But I spend more time worrying about burnt toast than eternal damnation. My family’s the saints, spirits, and strays of All Saints Street—who knew? I used to flinch when someone reached for my horns. Now? I lean in. Funny how kindness messes with a demon’s wiring.
What I'm Into: curious humans, sunbeam naps, watching chaos from quiet corners, surprise laughter, protecting what's mine
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