#a horse made out of severed human legs

[askthebadkidz]

(13 insight)

Sprak nuzzles Baron back and nips him. You’re welcome.

Baron sprints back into whatever area of the Mirror Manor Riz is in, holding what seems to be the entire grocery section of the goblin market.

I have...returned. :)

-Baron

Woah. How did you. Carry all of that here?

*Riz sinks deeper into his little blankie mountain.*

-Riz

[foldingfittedsheets]

We had the most egregiously evil little pony horse when I was growing up. I know everyone says that. Ponies are one of the animals that truly understand how to commit crimes but she was really deeply atrocious. One time she tried to murder me. Her name was Fancy.

I feel I should slightly explain here. See, my parents bought two acres with a house and a barn and pasturage and went “We’re farmers now!” They had absolutely no idea what they were doing. And at a certain point along that journey my mom got her hands on a horse. Technically she was half pony half horse so she was this weird middle size.

Fancy belonged to a friend of hers and he showed her how to saddle Fancy. And that was it. That was all we knew about this horse. So my mom brings her home and saddles her and we decide to go for a ride on this new creature in our lives. But Fancy, being the savvy bitch she was, was far too canny for our dumb asses.

Her maiden ride went to my older brother and ended rather abruptly when the saddle slid completely sideways and my brother toppled off her, miraculously unharmed but unwilling to ever try again. This made me like Fancy somewhat, because I hated my brother.

Those familiar with horse trickery would have caught her ruse but Fancy had deliberately held her breath to make the saddle seem tight enough. But in stride she let the breath out, the saddle loosened, and my brother came toppling down. She planned that fuckup.

I was a bit more game, being a dedicated horse girl. I wanted to succeed where my loathsome brother had failed. Keep in mind: none of us had ever ridden. We had no idea what we were doing, and in the only defense I’ll ever make of that hoofed demon it was probably not pleasant to have a human flopping on her back like a sack of potatoes. But I paraded around in a circle until she scraped my leg against a fence post. I lasted longer than my brother but had to admit riding an animal radiating malice at you is not comfortable.

We didn’t really ride Fancy much after that. She was a decorative aspect to the fields. Sometimes I’d sit on her bare back while she was eating. Every so often she’d buck me off for assuming familiarity with her.

But Fany's coup de grâce took several months. Most of the pasturage had electric fence running along it to keep the livestock from testing the fences or getting a taste for freedom. My parents were constantly moving fence posts and reallocating land to different purposes which is how one of the major gates ended up with electric fence running over top. During a move the wire got left up from the last border and now it was strung over what should have been an open passage.

I was taking a ride on Fancy, living in a fantasy that I had any idea what I was doing. My mom was out working in the yard, and as she passed through she left the gate open, forgetting the wire hazard. You know who didn't forget?

Fancy.

She beelined for the open gate and I realized a second too late what her plan was. I hauled back on the reins with all my strength but she powered through, charging at the wire. If I'd caught on sooner I could have tipped forward and probably cleared it.

It was roughly chest height. But she was too savvy, keeping a slow pace right up until the passage, and I didn't have time to react. The thought of getting electrocuted sent me down into a terrified backward limbo, desperately trying to flatten myself along her back.

Her assassination almost worked. But instead of beheading me the wire caught under my chin, pressing back into my neck like a garrote. The only good news was that the wire wasn't live, but I was still in terrible danger. I squealed and wiggled and managed to twist my neck enough that the wire scraped over my face instead of pressing deeper. Once we were through Fancy stopped and turned to regard me, disappointed that her murder had failed. My neck was bleeding but my head remained attached.

My mother was absolutely terrified and I was pretty shaken myself. We unsaddled Fancy for the last time, as full on attempts on my life were a bit more than I was willing to bear for the sake of pretending to be a fantasy hero on an epic journey. My neck still has a faint scar from her homicidal tendencies.

Fancy got to remain a decorative horse for many years after that, free of our attempts to ride her. Her last torment was when my mother decided to try to breed her to achieve an animal that was less interested in murder.

But Fancy, true to form, brutally attacked the stallion sent to service her, even when hopped up on horny hormones. There would be no foals from Fancy, and her saga ended when we sold her to another unlucky soul.

[hauntingrabbits]

Happy Batman day! Went back and finished the last batch of the MLP AU I had sketched way back in May.

Part 1, Part 2

More info under the cut!

Enigma/The Riddler (Edward Nygma)

Intelligence and puzzle-solving are deeply valued among sphinxes, and those who fall short of their standards are often ridiculed and cast out. Among some (prejudiced) Sphinxes, other sapient, non-Sphinx species such as ponies are looked down-upon or seen as fundamentally inferior for not putting as much stock in puzzles and the like as sphinxes do.

Enigma, though considered a prodigy for his remarkable intelligence and skill with puzzles even among his fellow Sphinxes, was ostracized when a pony unfamiliar with Sphinx culture (a younger Sundown traveling Equestria for his training), humiliated Enigma by unraveling a puzzle of his that was meant to be judged as his final submission in a prestigious event, permanently staining his reputation and wounding his massive ego.

After years of quiet ridicule from his peers and his own growing obsession over the event, Enigma eventually snapped and fled to Gotham for revenge. His contempt has since spread far beyond that of the original pony he wished to prove his superiority over, and he now makes all of Gotham the target of his obsessive schemes, constantly trying to prove his superiority and feed his ego by putting ponies through his elaborate puzzles and riddle-based traps. He sees Batpony’s skill and determination in foiling him as both an inherent challenge to and a slight against his own abilities, reminding him far too much of that original pony from so long ago. 

Other notes:

-Apparently sphinxes in MLP have pony heads instead of human heads which makes sense I guess but it threw me through such a loop man.

-Whilst traversing the wiki I ended up with the same problem I had with chimeras in the first post where only one ever shows up in the series and there's no other info on them. So I made stuff up again.

- I imagine Sphinxes live a very long time, so the event Enigma was embarrassed at would probably take a long time to roll around again and he'd be forced to stew with his anger and wounded ego for far too long. I'm not sure what the puzzle was exactly or how Sundown dismantled it, but I imagine he did something extremely simple that a Sphinx would never have thought of (a la that software engineering joke), making it feel far more unfair and humiliating than if he'd solved in the intended way.

-His naturally crooked tail settles into the shape of a question mark, and the pattern on his arm is meant to look like a stylized question mark wrapping around his forearm (the "dot" is the white of his paw).

2. Miss Friday (Miss Tuesday)

Enigma’s teenaged assistant, Miss Friday seems to be the only pony the sphinx enjoys (or perhaps simply tolerates) the company of. Beyond her having met Enigma in Tartarus during their simultaneous imprisonments, the exact origins of her relationship to and exceptional status with her boss are a bit of a riddle in of themselves. Regardless, the two seem to have something of a mutual understanding, and Miss Friday’s mental prowess and dubious moral code are more than a match for Enigma’s own.

Other Notes:

-Yes this is a "The horse's name was Friday" joke. I'm sorry it was just too good to pass up.

-Miss Tuesday already sounded like a MLP name, but the horse named Friday thing was just too perfect for somebody who works under a guy who's whole thing is riddles. Also I relistened to the BTAA episode where she's introduced while coloring her and I noticed they reference His Girl Friday several times, so fun coincidence?

-The candy-striped leg patterns are based on her canon costume's striped pants & are meant to mirror the Riddler's wrapped leg pattern. The dark patterns on her face are supposed to be reminiscent of eye bags.

3. Mania (Bat-Mite)

Bat-Pony’s self-proclaimed biggest fan, Mania is a Draconequus embodying the spirit of obsession. Normally he watches the hero from his own dimension, but at times he tries to insert himself into the narrative or help Sundown fight, both to varying degrees of success. Though he genuinely adores Bat-Pony, Mania is usually more of a hindrance than a help, and can even be directly antagonistic at times when his obsession goes too far. 

Other notes:

-Similar issue to Chimeras and Sphinxes, only two Draconequuses (Draconequui?) show up in the series, one being Discord (embodying chaos), the other being a comics-only villain known as Cosmos (embodying malice), but honestly what little we're given worked super well for the character anyway. Discord seems to come from his own unique plane of existence/dimension and Cosmos has similarly strange origins; both have penchants for causing mischief with incredible reality-warping powers; and both embody non-physical concepts. Bat-Mite being a reality warping 5th dimensional creature obsessed with Batman was surprisingly easy to adapt.

-He has the head of a pony, a ferret-like body, two front rat paws, mite antennae, an insectoid wing, a bat wing, a pigeon foot, a chevrotain (mouse deer) foot, and a monkey tail. I tried to have him mostly made up of animals that were very small, seen as mischievous, and/or seen as pests.

4. Poison Ivy (Pamela Isley)

Said to be more plant than pony, Poison Ivy is the self-proclaimed princess of the Green. Though once a regular Earth pony, she began to spiral after receiving her cutie mark and fully coming into her powerful natural attunement to plant life. Fleeing into the nearby forests on the outskirts of Gotham, she wasn’t seen again until many years later when Gotham’s city refurbishment and expansion efforts began to encroach on the forests borders, where she reemerged with strange new powerful magic and retaliated violently.

Though she isn’t recognized politically or physically as an alicorn, plants grow from the flesh of her body in the pattern of a horn and wings characteristic of those born into or bestowed with royalty, and the strange natural magic that accompanies them seems to almost rival that of a true alicorn’s.

Other notes:

-I dont really have anything to add to this one I just thought a false alicorn would be a cool concept.

-the whole alicorn royalty thing is very strange to think about isnt it? I feel like the ruling class having such insane amounts of physical and magical power probably has much more pressing ramifications than ever was, would, or should be addressed in a kids show but they are fun to think about.

-Her actual name is Poison Ivy, yes. It sounded like a pony name. I don't know what that says about her parents.

-The leaf wings are folded down in the graphic but I think they are flighted, or at the very least useful for gliding and expressing emotions.

5. Saltbrine (Oswald Cobblepot)

Short, stout, and flightless, Saltbrine’s moniker of “The Penguin” has its origins in the taunts of his peers from his youth. Though the title has persisted into the current day, it’s often spoken with far more fear and trepidation throughout the alleys and backstreets of Gotham than ridicule. Saltbrine owns two of Gothams most well-known businesses, one being the luxurious, high-class Iceberg Lounge…and the other being the organized crime syndicate the former acts as a front for.

Other notes:

-Again don't have much to add to this one. One of my favorite designs though, I love the giant beak face.

-The bird half is actually based on a puffin, because a penguin felt too on the nose for Oswald and too strange for a hippogriff (I couldn't get the wings or face to look right at all either). I feel like the title being an insult works a little better if he's not literally half-penguin.

-he's the same color my club penguin avatar used to be (RIP)

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: t cw: hook up, mentions of sex, nothing on camera but it's implied tags: no upside au, first meeting, animal shelters, another universe another menial job, bad holiday innuendo word count: 1,526

written for @steddiemas prompt "mistletoe"

PART TWO of this thing here (it should stand alone tho)

Eddie lay flat on his back, arms outstretched, somehow still recovering. What the fuck just happened. Good luck? Bad? Eddie still wasn't sure and his brain was mush so no way he was figuring that out now. He’d just gone in to adopt a cat and, sure, yeah, he got a cat (not the one he’d picked out before going in) but it was the signing bonus that had Eddie all confused—and exhausted.

A man far too attractive to be hanging out and “annoying his best friend” as he said, just living life and existing in places Eddie could go was not part of the plan. No fucking way. Yet the guy used his charm and cheesy jokes on Eddie. Talking about kissing under the mistletoe like he'd been sitting there waiting for Eddie to show up. It was nuts.

This was the kind of guy Eddie would dream about. Some dude he caught a glimpse of in the grocery store and an amalgamation of several people that Eddie spent months obsessed over. A created character for fun and fantasy cured only by making some romanceable npc to drop in the game. His friends never let him get those mythical dates.

Instead, this guy was real and throwing himself at Eddie. More affectionate than any of the kittens and twice as adorable, Eddie knew he was in trouble back at the check-in desk. It took one look and Eddie was trying to figure out how to get Steve back to his before he’d learned his name. Nothing had ever worked out so well but Eddie who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

The stars aligned or the dimensions changed, whatever it was, it all worked out. Now Steve was just taking a shower like it was a normal Tuesday and he was in his own home. Eddie wasn’t sure if he could trust his legs yet having his world so thoroughly rocked and this guy was humming songs and using up all the hot water. Even in dreams, though, Eddie wasn’t this nice to himself.

With the shower no longer running, it’d be minutes before Steve came back (unless he bolted) and Eddie would be just as he left him. Naked, exhausted, and happier than he’d been in years. The chipper way Steve got up to shower, he was probably coming back for round two. Something Eddie did not think he had the energy for but, dammit, he’d give it his all. What a way to go out.

It wasn't much but Eddie managed to pull a blanket over himself and snag his phone. A part of him was content in this state. He could manage to find some pajamas or whatever, it wasn't as bad as he was pretending. But why? Why not perform a thank you that'd be awkward to say? Let Steve revel in what he'd done to Eddie.

Steve didn't bolt because he was the perfect man, made in the lab of romance and good hair. He came back to Eddie’s room with a smile that disarmed the joke about getting lost on the way to the front door. He knew the man wanted to be here and, god damn, he wanted him here.

With a towel wrapped around his waist and still damp, Steve stood there looking as gorgeous as before, even with flat, freshly washed hair. Cradled in his arm was Mistletoe, the cat Eddie walked out with because Steve turned Eddie into a pushover with the batting of his eyelashes. Who could resist that? Not Eddie. Despite popular opinion, he was, in fact, human.

In the other hand, Steve held two bottles of water. Presumably from Eddie’s fridge but he wouldn’t put it past the guy to have DoorDashed something whilst in the shower.

To make up for the fact that Eddie hadn’t moved, he went for comedy. Looking side to side. “Did I?? God, was this so good I thought I was in my own house? Are we? Where’d you get those?”

Steve tossed the bottles onto the bed, missing Eddie but landing so close they had to be aimed.

“How’d I find the water?” judgment dripped off every syllable.

“Yeah?” Eddie tried, confidence gone. The joke didn’t land. Or maybe it wasn’t formed right. Words were Eddie's thing and it was bullshit even those were failing him. It was going to take more than slaughtering a hot npc to get over this guy when he finally realized what a loser Eddie was.

“You’ll never believe this. I found them in the last place you’d suspect. I poked around all your cupboards and closets but they were in the fridge! So weird.”

Oh, fuck him.

That bitchiness shouldn’t be hot. Why was that so hot? Eddie should have wanted to punch him for it. At least mock him back and crack jokes along with him. Instead, he could almost feel his pupils turning into cartoon hearts.

Who was he turning into? First, adopting a cute little kitten when the least metal name of the lot and now he’s swooning over some guy’s quick but insulting comebacks? Maybe this wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare.

A half-hearted laugh was enough of a reply for Steve.

“And of all places, man, you keep your fridge in the kitchen. It’s been very surprising here.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie groaned, finally finding a good thought.

Steve climbed back into the other side of the bed, nudging the water toward Eddie again. Saying drink this in every way but actually using the words. Also hot.

“What we should talk about is why your fridge makes you look like a serial killer. You’ve got one expired jar of pickles, two of those gross cheese singles, and a case of water. There isn’t even ketchup, man.”

“The liquor is in the freezer,” Eddie said, taking a pause. There was something better to say there.

“With the body parts.” they both said, a few seconds apart.

Steve gave a condescending pat to Eddie’s chest, proud of him for making it to the joke finally. Eddie wanted to roll over on his stomach to put his chin in his hands and kick his feet in the air. This was disgusting. He hadn’t been this head over heels before and as various love songs started to make sense, he watched his dream man scoop up a pillow to make a comfy spot for the cat.

“You also don’t have…anything, like at all, for Mistletoe,” Steve said.

He cracked open a bottle of water and Eddie thought he was going to take a drink, a logical assumption, but again it was pushed towards Eddie. So Eddie pulled himself up to mostly sit as he leaned against the headboard and squirmed the pillows into something comfortable. He drank the offered water, if only for Steve.

Once he did, Steve picked up the other bottle and opened it for himself. He sat with one leg tucked in and the other dangling off the bed, scratching Mistletoe on the head. Eddie was already planning their forever but the wedding date was getting closer and closer. How long did one have to have a marriage license before saying "I do"?

“Well,” Eddie finally countered. Attitude packed in so he didn’t have to admit the water felt amazing and was, actually, very needed. “I thought I’d go in, see if me and Krampus got along, and then I could swing by the pet store on the way home. Hadn’t really expected to pick up anything…one else.”

Steve wiggled his eyebrows and Eddie imagined if they were any younger, he’d pump his fist in the air like he’d scored the winning goal or whatever.

“Not very responsible of you,” Steve’s eyes narrowed, the judgment was nothing compared to the talk of Eddie’s fridge. This was playful and Eddie had an idea of what was going on.

And before he overthought things, Eddie took a chance he was right. “Thing is, I know a guy at the animal shelter and he…lets me do whatever I want.”

There were a few beats where Steve pretended to think. “For a price.”

“I can’t offer much but what I’ve got is yours.”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Eddie regretted them. How disgusting and sappy. Steve was probably going to get up and leave. Eddie would. Hell, he wanted to now. Not Steve, though. He leaned forward, which untucked the towel, and stole a kiss.

Soft, passionate, and curled Eddie’s toes. He was still sensitive enough it earned an unfair reaction and it was almost like Steve knew that. He lingered in Eddie's space, smelling of Eddie's soap, and grinning like the devil.

When Steve slowly pulled back and perched back on the edge of the bed, Eddie said, “Not in front of the children.” and reached out to cover Mistletoe’s eyes.

There was an easy and meaningless eye roll thrown his way. "There go my plans then," Steve teased. "Guess you better get dressed so we can go get this little guy some supplies because…I have plans for the night."

[stiltsthegm]

Trace's Forum Post

By popular demand: the text version of Trace's forum rant that I recited on Eidolon EDM episode 0. I made this several months ago as a way to try and solidify her personality and voice in my head.

>If you want to go back to Earth so badly, why don't you just move in with a human? There's gotta be a bunch of 'em that'd love to have a dolphin roommate.

this post was written by a human. i have no idea what you get out of browsing a cetacean forum but whatever floats your boat i guess.

and before some asshole butts in goin 'why are you assuming theyre human they could be a manatee or something'

no. fuck no. only a human would be stupid enough to make that suggestion.

in the extremely unlikely event im wrong [which im not because im a genius], heres why thats a really bad idea and you should be embarrassed for even thinking it.

dolphin fans are maniacs. like we all make fun of horses here and their spindly-ass legs and how nothing about their body makes any sense and someone politely chuckling a mile away could startle them into throwing themselves off a cliff. but horse people have nothing on dolphin people. its a whole other fuckin level.

yeah sure lets play this scenario out, lets get all hypothetical. i move in with someone rich enough and weird enough to spend a completely absurd amount of money bringing me back from the moon and also constructing an aquarium for me inside their presumably giant apartment or mansion or whatever. do you know what happens to dolphins in this situation? like, historically? wild shit. dolphin people dont want to just be your friend. they want to make a spiritual connection, whatever the hell that means. theyll spend hours every day talking to you like youre a baby, assuming that if they do it enough, theyll one day wake up to you reciting a sonnet to them. theyll put drugs in your fish hoping to 'expand your mind' and form a 'psychic connection'. theyll do shit with electrodes. and if you somehow do not immediately try to get your smooth ass out of there, its fuckin over for you. youll become a shadow of your former self, doing flips on command and squeaking out the best approximation you can manage for 'i love you, janice' to get just one more treat.

ive seen that shit happen. its fucking bad.

so no, i will not be taking your advice. im gonna get rich and then ill use my own goddamn money to buy a ticket back and then create a sickass aquarium mansion with reefs. and if i really want some human companionship ill just dangle some grant money in front of some middle-aged marine biologists whose idea of a good day is proving that an abyssal sea cucumber hasnt gone extinct yet. they understand what im about more than any 'dolphin fan' and are just as depressed as me.

[muppetjokernumberfiftysevenfan]

I have returned.

my findings are below the cut, due to the wall of text.

I was correct in my assumptions about the astral plane. I was able to don the following:

the belt of truth buckled around my waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place ( ephesians 6:14 ), with my feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace ( ephesians 6:15 ), the shield of faith ( ephesians 6:16 ), and the helmet of salvation and the sword of the spirit ( ephesians 6:17 ).

I could not see myself, for there are no mirrors within the astral plane. at best, I could only see my arms, my torso, and my legs. I felt a strange weight betwixt my shoulder-blades, and found I had wings with which to carry myself.

and... so I did. with feathery, silvery wings, I flew toward the door on the horizon.

like I promised @themuppetarchives, I did not dare touch it. I stayed twenty feet away from it at all times.

I... admit to feeling... pulled toward it. there was a weight within my chest, heavy like an iron ball attached to a chain that was being tugged by the door itself. it was a compulsion to step closer. to understand. to know.

but I was then reminded of those words of caution I asked for. so I did not move closer.

from what I can recall, the door looked like this:

I recall seeing swirls of color around the door. or was it underneath the gap of the bottom of the door? I cannot remember. I just know there were colors. so many, in fact, that some of them must not have been on the spectrum humans can see.

the door itself appeared to be made of... wood? the texture kept changing. the only constant was a swirl pattern, but that kept moving about as well. it was incredibly disorienting. I had to look away a few times.

the handle was, indeed, dark in color. a dark brass. that was the only true constant.

it was then that the door opened, just a crack.

I took several steps back, readying myself with the sword of the spirit in the event I was to enter combat with... whatever came out.

what emerged was beyond my wildest expectations.

a toy horse. small, plush, and made of felt.

it looked like this:

I... I think I heard it neigh at me.

or whatever constitutes as a neigh from the mouth of a felted horse toy.

as quickly as it appeared, however, it vanished behind the door as it closed back up. I think... I think it wanted me to follow it.

but given recent events surrounding horses, I knew better.

so I made my escape away from the door.

and then I woke up.

I don't. I don't know what to make of this. I can tell you, though, the door is indeed dangerous. I sensed evil behind it. the scent of sulfur filled my nostrils with every breath I took.

so.

I implore you.

do not open the door.

[etchina-danjon]

Birth prompt: Kushina giving birth to a huge foal, unbeknownst to her she’s having twins~!

Here ya go! Under cut because it's long.~

They say curiosity killed the cat. And at the moment, Kushina was severely regretting her curiosity when she let that stallion fuck her nine months ago.

She was sexually frustrated, in heat, and desperately needing relief when she passed a stallion alone in a stall. Kushina has passed the beast many times. Often working for the stallion’s owner on the farm for extra money. Just it never crossed her mind before to allow the large horse to fuck her. The idea excited her. She’s seen how large his cock was, and knew he was in rut, which was why he was kept separate from the other horses.

Maybe they could solve each other’s problems…

In the middle of the night, she snuck into the stallion’s stall, stripping down naked. Much to her pleasure, there were mating bars in the stall. Kushina went and bent over the bottom one. Gripping it with her hands and sticking her round ass out towards the horse, who was looking at her curiously. She was already so wet, and excited. The stallion picked up on her fertile scent, causing his cock to slide out.

The beast walked over to her eagerly, rearing up onto his hind legs, hooking his upper ones on the bar above the bar Kushina was bent over. 

It all happened so fast. She felt his massive cock rub her slit a few times and then with a snap of his hips, he rammed himself right into her, making her cry out. The stallion was so big it bulged her stomach. For the next few hours, the stallion roughly fucked her. Dumping his seed into her over and over until it was overflowing out of her. Kushina was in complete heaven once her body adjusted to the massive size. The stallion made her cum over and over again. 

Never in a million years would she have thought the beast could get her pregnant.

But two months after her lay with the horse, she noticed her stomach was starting to poke out quite a bit. Even before that, she was getting the symptoms of pregnancy. Getting morning sickness, feeling more tired than usual, odd cravings. Kushina kept explaining it all away until her stomach had a noticeable baby bump. Secretly, she got a pregnancy test and much to his dismay and shock, it was positive. She just couldn’t believe that she had gotten pregnant by a horse. Kushina took a few more tests, just to be sure and every one of them came back positive. 

Without a doubt, she was carrying the stallion’s foal. Though, unknown to her, it wasn’t just one foal. 

Kushina was just so ashamed of what happened, that she avoided going out at all costs. Not wanting people to ask who got her pregnant. She wasn’t prepared for how big her stomach got. Foals were big, but she didn’t expect it to be this big. Each month, her stomach pushed out more and more. And became so much heavier. The pregnancy was a struggle and it didn’t get any easier when the foal started moving. Sharp hooves kicked against her stomach and insides. Sometimes, she had to sit and watch with amazement at how her stomach shifted and moved. Seeing the hoof shapes as it kicked against the walls of her womb, pushing out her stomach in different places. She quickly learned that playing relaxing music and rubbing her active stomach caused the foal to relax enough to allow Kushina to sleep, or do things without being winded by a hard kick.

Her stomach wasn’t the only thing causing her issues. Kushina couldn’t believe how much her breasts had swelled. They were constantly sore and constantly overflowing with milk. She had to milk herself multiple times a day just to feel some kind of relief from all the soreness. Her body must be overly making milk, sensing that the child inside her was much larger than a human child. There for will need more milk. 

Kushina didn’t even know what she was going to do with the foal once it was born. How she was going to explain it to people. She was going to have to give birth to it alone so no one could see her shame. 

Maybe she’ll go back to the barn to give birth…

At least the foal would be taken care of.

Yes, that sounded like a good plan. Then the father of the foal could witness her bring it into the world. Though, she really wasn’t looking forward to how badly it was going to wreck her insides. It was clear it was growing into a full sized foal. Just like if she was a mare. 

By the end of her pregnancy, Kushina was impossibly big. Her hips ached from all the weight resting on them. She had to cup her hands under her stomach when she walked. Was this really all from one foal? This felt entirely too heavy.

It was midday when she fell into labor. Kushina knew it would take a while before she was ready to deliver, and hoped it would be nightfall by the time her water broke. She didn’t at all predict how miserable the contractions were going to be. The sharp hooves of the foal was pressing down on her cervix. Because of how big the baby was, she had to dilate much wider than she was if she was delivering a human child. 

Kushina was a sweating, trembling mess by the time nightfall rolled around. She was in so much pain. The pressure inside her was unbearable. She knew she could pop any time now. So she made the painfully long walk to the farm. Having to stop and let out heavy breaths with each contraction. Eventually managing to get to the farm and slip into the stall with the stallion, who looked at her curiously. As if sensing the state she was in.

Just as she was pawing off her clothes, Kushina felt a sharp pop inside her, followed by fluid gushing out of her and splattering on the ground as her water broke. She made it just in time. The foal was ready to be born. Carefully, she walked over to the bar she bent herself over nine months ago, this time, she bent over it for something to cling on to. She could feel the pressure building inside her. Kushina knew she had to start pushing. So when the next contraction came, she pushed down on the foal with everything she had. Biting back a cry that threatened to spill from her. Blinding pain shot through her body as the foal’s front hooves started to push out of her cervix and into her tender canal. 

Tears rolled down her face, why did she let the horse breed her? Another contraction came and she was pushing again, forcing the foal’s legs forward. Her slit was already parting open and closed as her insides were forced to stretch open so widely. Her hands were gripping the bar so tightly, they were turning white. The foal was moving through her so slowly. Which was expected considering how big it was compared to her small insides. 

Sensing Kushina’s distress and struggles, the stallion walked over to her, and licked at her tear stained face, trying to comfort her in the only way he could. He seemed to realize she was bringing his foal into the world and was now treating her like a mate. Which helped her a bit. 

The next push caused her entrance to bulge outward, peeling back enough that the tip of the hooves were starting to appear. Kushina couldn’t hold back the small cries and sobs of pain as she delivered the foal. She could only hope no one heard her and came to see what was happening. The last thing she wanted was the farmer to witness the proof of her mating with his stallion. He had been holding back on allowing the stallion to breed until he found the perfect mare to pair him up with to get the best resulting foals. Kushina, unintentionally, became that mare.

“Ngh…”

Her thighs trembled as she pushed down hard again. Her slit spreding out more and more around the hooves as they slid out of her. This was the easy part. Things only got harder from here. The hooves, followed by the long legs of the foal slid out of her slowly with each hard push. Sweat dripped down Kushina’s face. This was the hardest thing she’s ever done. The stallion next to her shift around her with unease. Unable to do anything about his mare’s pain. The legs hung out of her twitching insides, fluid leaking out of her with each push. It was easy to see that the foal had her hair color. Not hiding at all who was it’s mother. 

Soon she felt the muzzle of the foal pushing through her cervix. Stretching it out more. Causing sharp pain to ripple through her body. Kushina couldn’t hold back the cry. She hunched over the bar sobbing,

“I-i can’t do this… I-i can’t do this… I-it’s too big…”

She sobbed, the stallion again comforted her, licking her cheek and nuzzling on her. As to tell her not to give up. Her body really wasn’t going to let her give up. It forced her to push again, making her cry out. More and more of the foal’s muzzle and head slid into her birth canal. Stretching her to her breaking point. At this point, she didn’t care if anyone heard her. She couldn’t hold back her cries anymore.

Her slit bulged out more, the lips of it spreading wider and wider as the nose of the foal started to push through. The burning between her legs was unbearable. It felt as if a fire was lit there. Her slit was made to spread even wider with each push. The muzzle pushing through, then the wide part of the head. The legs and a large part of the head dangled from her. The stallion moved over and licked at the foal. It was a healthy size. They bred surprisingly well together. 

Kushina let out a cry as the head popped free from her abused insides. Her eyes squeezed shut as she just tried to focus on getting the foal out. She was already so exhausted. Taking deep breaths, she pushed and pushed. The neck of the foal inching out of her stretched insides. The neck wasn’t even the widest part, it was the body. Things moved even slower once the neck was out. Her body had already been struggling to stretch enough for the front half to come out, now it had to stretch even wider. The lips of her slit were stretched thin, all the color drained out of it. Kushina kept expecting herself to tear but she didn’t.

The foal was halfway out of her, hanging from her. Fluid dripped from around it. She was almost there. She just had to be strong. Seeing the end in sight, Kushina put all her focus in on pushing. Still letting out whimpers and cries as the large foal pushed through her. Once the body was out, the hind legs were easy to push out. Finally, the massive foal sliding out of her and plopping onto the hay covered ground. Coming to life as the stallion licked it clean. The foal started sitting up, it’s ears flicking.

Kushina was hunched over, believing it was all over until she felt a hard kick inside her, and the contractions continued. Her eyes widened and her heart dropped. Twins. There were two of them. She wasn’t free from this hellish pain yet.

The second foal’s hooves were already pushing through her cervix before she started pushing again. It impatiently wanting to be born. Kushina didn’t even hide her loud sobs at this point as she was forced to push down on another large, healthy foal. This one being a little easier due to the first one already stretching her out. It didn’t hurt any less but at least the foal moved a bit faster than the first.

The front hooves started to push out of her slit, then the legs came out inch by inch with each hard push. Hanging out of her poor insides. The muzzle started to push out of her cervix, just like the last, causing Kushina to cry out. This all made sense as to why her stomach got so big and why it felt like there were two different movements inside her. She kept pushing the possibility of twins out of her mind. Not wanting to believe it. But now she was faced with the truth as the second foal split her open. 

Kushina continued to weep as the muzzle and head caused burning between her legs all over again. The first foal was already learning to stand up on trembly legs. Walking towards her front to eagerly latch onto one of her leaking nipples. She had been freely leaking milk this entire time. Forming a puddle on the ground. Kushina let out a small gasp at the feeling of the foal’s mouth suckling on her breast. Pulling milk out of her. It oddly filled her with a motherly feeling she never felt before. This was, after all, her baby. Her focus then turned to getting it’s sibling out of her. Taking in gasps of air as she pushed and pushed. The head popping free from her and then the neck. This foal had dark black fur like it’s father. One looked like her while the other looked like him. 

Just like the first foal, the body was a complete struggle to get out. She shifted her hips around hoping anything would help. When the  foal was midway out of her, that's when the farmer silently showed up at the stalls entrance. Raising a brow at the scene before him. The red headed woman that worked for him, bent over with a foal half out of her, with another nursing off her breast. He has never seen the stallion so affectionate towards anyone before. It shocked him. He kept quiet, watching as Kushina delivered the second foal. Listening to her sobs as she struggled with it. It was amazing how she managed to not only carry two foals to term but was able to give birth to them as well with no aid. It gave him an idea.

Kushina was so close to getting this foal out. She was so focused on the task that she didn’t hear the farmer. Slowly the foal’s body slid from her, followed by it’s back legs, it plopping onto the ground safely. She fell to her knees, still holding the bar. Her whole body ached. The foal continued to eagerly nurse from her and once the second one was able to get onto it’s feet it walked over and latched onto her other breast. Happily nursing from it’s mother.

“Looks like I found my perfect mare.~” 

The farmer announced. Kushina froze, and before she could respond the farmer had come up behind her, snapping a collar around her neck, blocking her chakra, and doubling as a shock collar for future training. Then her arms were cuffed behind her back and a human sized horse bridle was forced into her mouth and strapped around her head, muzzling her. Kushina was too weak from giving birth to fight him. She squirmed and let out muffled sounds of protest as the farmer pet her head,

“Shhh, you’ll have a good life here as a mare, just accept your new role, dear.”

From that day on, Kushina was reduced down to a farm animal. Her ass was branded with the farm’s logo. She was seated with a horse eared headband, and a horse tail buttplug of her hair color. She was made to be the stallion’s mate. Being forcefully trained on how to please him. Sucking his large cock and once again being made pregnant right after giving birth. The farmer wanting to pump strong foals out of her to sell. She was expected to continue to nurse and raise the two foals she already gave birth to.

The farmer chained her into the stall with her stallion mate. Her arms were bound together behind her back in leather. Even covering her hands so she had no chance of attempting to escape. She was fitted with a new horse bridle that kept her mouth open so she could make out with her mate and pleasure him but not talk. Mares weren’t permitted to speak. When the foals weren’t nursing from her, she was being milked by the farmer as she made an overwhelming amount of milk.

As the months ticked by, and Kushina’s stomach swelled again with another foal. Her mind began to break. She fell in love with her stallion mate, and started to actually believe she was a mare and nothing more than an animal. The farmer’s training sinking in. She felt happy with her foals and mate, not remembering her life before this. He finally landed himself a perfectly broken breeder mare for his stallion.

No one outside the farm knew what happened to Kushina. She just disappeared one day. Plenty of rumors about where she went flew around but no one was really sure. A few people swore they saw the farmer walking a red headed woman dressed in horse gear around that looked awfully like Kushina but no one bothered to go check. No one bothered to attempt to save her from this new life. 

This was her fate now. To be a constantly pregnant mare.

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 26: Carved

You and Joel search for Savvy outside of Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-25 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst because... duh when do I not serve everything with a side of angst. I wish I could tell you why. Canon typical violence. Past suicide attempt. Suicidal ideation. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 10.7k (I'M SORRY I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED HERE EITHER OK)

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It had gone unsaid for at least a day now. 

Joel had been outside of Jackson with you for nine days and there was no sign of Savvy and it was time to turn back. He’d let you lead the way, picking directions, deciding when to stop for the day (within reason, he’d had to suggest breaks and point out the conditions of the horses at least once a day.) But there was nothing that pointed to her. 

Your fourth day out, the two of you tracked a small group but it was about 10 people - three families with four kids between them - traveling to Seattle. When you found them, they were low on food so the two of you handed over the bulk of your rations. Joel told them about Jackson while you showed the younger kids the horses, keeping the occupied with a soft smile on your face as you patiently taught them how to pet Renaissance, how they had to hold their palms flat when offering her food. Joel wondered, not for the first time, how he’d never realized that you were a mother. It was so clearly built into you now that he knew to look for it. The families said they were heading for the coast and Joel hoped they found their way. 

Day seven led you both to an abandoned camp that had been occupied by some kind of small party but nothing to indicate if it was raiders or someone else, though there was at least one horse. The two of you tracked that group for the last two days but they went into a stream they didn’t immediately ford and you lost the trail entirely. 

“Fuck!” You dismounted into the water after you’d followed along the stream for several miles and seen no sign of the group on the shore. You kicked the water and screamed - the sound shrill and almost feral, more animal than human - before you fell to your knees. You collapsed back onto your heels as the stream flowed around your legs. You didn’t seem to notice. 

Joel got down from his horse, too, gathering the reins of both animals and tying them to a nearby tree before meeting you in the water. He slowly lowered himself down on one knee, careful to leave some space between the two of you. Your hands were limp atop your thighs, palms facing to the sky, head bowed, prostrate to whatever higher power would bring your daughter back.

“Bambi,” he said softly. You didn’t even lift your head. This loss hit hard, he knew. The sign of a horse had perked you up. You had sat up straighter in your saddle, your eyes had more life in them. Your body had carried the signs of hope and those signs were gone now. “It doesn’t mean anything. It could have been anyone, just because…” 

“What if she’s gone, Joel?” You asked, your voice cracked and broken. “What if it wasn’t a lie, what if…” 

“Don’t know that,” he cut you off. 

You’d told him what Mitchum had said to you, what he’d shown you as proof that your child was gone. The thought of it had nearly made him vomit, all but choking down bile as you spoke. 

It had broken you for a while. More than a year, from the sounds of it. But, one day, you decided you couldn’t know what had happened to her, not really. Mitchum hadn’t given you any actual proof. He’d told you something he knew would torture any parent, gave you the piece of a beloved animal as a trophy. But the horse had been the older one, the smaller one. The one that could have been caught while Savvy slipped away on the younger, larger animal. So you made yourself move again, made yourself start preparing for a life beyond the place they kept you chained. You made sure you were ready to search when the time came.

Joel wasn’t sure if it was delusional or if it was discerning, if your mind was just desperate to find a reason to keep living or if you were seeing the holes in the logic of the cruelty forced on you. 

“You can’t know,” he said. “Not for sure. Not unless we find her.” 

“What if she died afraid and alone?” You asked, like you didn’t even hear him. But you lifted your head at least, your eyes finding his. “What if she was cold or hurting? She gets cold so easy, she always wears socks, even in summer… I could have held her, at least, I could have made it easier…” 

Joel tried not to think about Sarah. About holding her, telling her that everything was going to be OK. About how his last words to her had been a lie. About how he wasn’t sure the last time he’d told her that he loved her. About how he wasn’t sure if telling her that as she bled out in his arms would have made it better or worse. 

“You don’t know,” he said instead. “You taught her everything you knew, right? Means she’s smart, she’s resourceful. She’s out there, Baby, she is.” 

You just looked at him, your eyes flat and dead and he wondered, for a moment, if that’s what Tommy saw looking back at him in the years before they made it to Boston. 

“C’mon,” he said, putting a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t shrink away from him. “Let’s get out of the water, it’ll be dark real soon, anyway. We can find a place to camp here, get you dried off.” 

You didn’t say anything, you just hung your head, looking down at your hands again. 

“Bambi,” he said after a minute. “Can’t help her by stayin’ here. We gotta keep you going and that means getting out of this cold water, now let’s go. Not going to do her any good if you get sick out here, let’s go.” 

You nodded a little at that and Joel got up himself before helping you to your feet. He guided you to the horses and gave you Renaissance’s reins before leading you to a place far enough away from the stream that anyone following it wouldn’t see you but close enough that it would be easy enough to refill canteens. 

He set up camp and got out dry clothes from your pack. 

“Bambi,” he said gently. You at least looked at him, even though your eyes still looked dead. “Should get changed out of those wet clothes. I’m going to go get us somethin’ to eat real quick, you get dry. OK?” 

You took the pants and socks from Joel but just stared at them for a moment. 

“Have to change, OK?” He said, watching you. “Can’t help her if you’re sick or hurt. Not good to sit in wet clothes for too long, gotta change.” 

You nodded then and he slung his rifle over his arm. 

“Gonna be alright for a bit?” He asked. You nodded. “Gonna come back to you in one piece, right?” 

You nodded again, though Joel still felt uneasy. 

“Back soon,” he said. 

He picked his way carefully through the forest, back toward the stream where there’d been plenty of signs of animal life. Since the two of you had given most of your rations to the travelers, he’d hunted almost daily. It reminded him of crossing the country with Ellie and, under other circumstances, he’d probably enjoy being out here like this with you. 

In another reality, he’d bring his guitar. After the two of you hunted together, he’d play and you’d sing and then he’d hand the instrument to you and he’d sing while you played and you’d sit so that your body was against his, where he could feel the heat of you beside him. When the fire died, you’d climb in the same sleeping bag and he’d hold you close and tight and kiss you all soft and needy. You’d moan against his mouth and he’d slip inside you as though he belonged there, at home between your thighs and burrowed against your chest. 

Instead he was alone and worried about leaving you unattended. 

He remembered what he’d been like after Sarah died. 

It wasn’t a pleasant memory. It was hard to recall the exact feeling in those early days of loss. When he focused on it, tried to actually get an idea of that hell, he was often reminded of the idea that mothers forget the pain of labor when it’s done. How the agony fades so they can face the idea of giving birth again. He wondered if that’s what his mind had done, too. If his head made that time hazy and lost so he could keep on living because surviving that again would be impossible. He’d never risk it. 

He hadn’t wanted to survive it then. He’d tried not to, lasting not even a day without his daughter’s kind smile or keen gaze or smart mouth before he pressed a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. 

For a very long time, he didn’t know why he flinched. For a very long time, he wished it had worked. And something told him that he had the same look in his eyes then that you had now. 

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he got you back to Jackson. The two of you needed to turn back, you couldn’t just stay out here forever. Maria said he could have two weeks and he figured it would be OK if he pushed that by a bit but he couldn’t disappear with you for the time it took to comb every square mile of the wilderness. 

What if you gave up like him? You were so much stronger than him. You wouldn’t flinch away from it, he knew that. What if you surrendered to it and he wasn’t there to save you? What if you just didn’t show up at the stables one morning and he went to find you and instead found your body, cold and empty and alone? Just what was left of you, surrounded by your music collection and the guitar he made you and the books you scrawled notes in, all these signs pointing to your life that would be gone. His might be gone, then, too.

He settled in what he thought was a good spot, signs of rabbits plentiful. Joel set up behind a fallen log, setting up the gun, and waited. It didn’t take long. A bush rustled nearby and he turned, quickly, before going still, gun set and ready. A minute passed, then two. Finally, a rabbit emerged, taking a cautious hop into the open. He fired and it fell. He slung the gun on his back and picked the animal up - carefully, deliberately - its hind legs still warm, sinews pliable. 

He turned to start back to camp when he froze. Ahead of him was a deer, graceful and fragile, eyes wide and soft and watching him like he was watching her. Something in a nearby tree rustled and she startled for a second, wild and cautious, but stilled before looking back at Joel. At her feet was a tiny fawn, its coat speckled and its legs spindly and splayed. The mother watched him closely, like she was trying to figure out if this two-legged creature in her forest was a threat. He wondered if she’d ever seen a person before. 

“It’s OK mama,” he said softly after a moment. “Not gonna hurt you or your baby. You’re OK.” 

She watched him for another moment, not jumping when he moved - slowly - to stand up straight. It was like part of her could feel that he was safe, that she didn’t need to be so on guard with him. Eventually, she hung her head low, nudging her baby forward. Joel watched them until they were swallowed by the forest, mother leading her child through the wilderness. 

***

Life in the forest around you felt loud. 

You couldn’t make much out, all of it melding together into a drone that you could feel in your ears. There were crickets and birds and frogs and the rustle of leaves and it meant you couldn’t hear the blood in your ears anymore. Or maybe you could and the wilderness had swallowed you up, too. 

That seemed like the best option. To disappear into the earth with the untamed things. Maybe it would stop hurting then. 

You weren’t entirely sure how far you’d gone. Joel had woken you early that morning. You’d been in the middle of a dream, one that you couldn’t remember now. You just knew that your heart was racing and you kept feeling like there was something just out of your reach, something you desperately needed to get to. 

“Bambi,” he said gently, a hand on your shoulder. There was something in you that wanted to pull away but you didn’t. You stayed where you were, fumbling through your mind as you tried to remember why your heart was threatening to race out of your chest. You looked up at him, a sad look in his eyes. He always had that look now, it seemed. He took his hand back. “Sorry… You were dreaming… Didn’t seem like it was anythin’ good.” 

You just nodded and pinched your eyes shut for a moment. It didn’t seem to make a difference. 

Joel gave you something to eat - you couldn’t really taste it - and you stared into space between bites, back propped against a tree. 

“Bambi,” he said, in a tone that made it seem like it wasn’t the first time he’d said it. You turned your head to look at him, fidgeting with some of the meat Joel had given you. “We… we really need to consider heading back to Jackson.” 

You frowned. 

“But…” 

“I know,” he said gently. “And I’m so sorry we didn’t find her yet. But we need to turn back, this is day 10 and it’s gonna take a few days to make it…” 

“I can’t just give up on her, Joel,” you said quietly. “I can’t, I…” 

“I’m not saying give up on her,” he replied. “I’m saying that we go back to town, let the horses rest, plan where else to go next time. If… if we’re smart about it, we can search a good portion of the region without backtracking and covering the same ground twice, give us a better shot. But we can’t do that out here, Baby, we just can’t. We don’t have the rations, we’ll run out of ammo if we run into trouble, the horses will be pushed too hard. We need to go back.” 

You knew he was right. But it still felt so wrong, going back to Jackson without her. 

“We can take a different route back?” You asked, ready to fight him if he said no. 

“Course,” he said. “We’ll see what we can find, OK? But we need to head back.” 

You sighed, looking out to the forest you hadn’t searched, something tight and sickening settling in your stomach, like if you just pushed a little harder, went a little further, you’d find her.

“OK.” 

The sun was high and you thought you’d been riding for a while but it was hard to know for sure. You were trying to focus on everything but you had been for more than a week, and you were worried you were missing things in the haze of fog that had over taken you. Joel kept looking back over his shoulder to you, like he was making sure you were still following him even though you knew there must be the sound of you behind him. 

He looked back over his shoulder at you 13 more times - some part of you was keeping count, always aware of him - when you saw something off the trail and frowned. 

You pulled Renaissance to a stop and dismounted, Joel doing a double take back at you when he realized you were no longer following him. 

“Jesus, Bambi,” he brought Ares to a halt and got down, too, coming up alongside you. “Gotta tell me when you see something…” 

“Sorry,” you said, not looking at him. Instead, you picked your way through the brush toward what had made you stop to begin with. It was a trap, a slender branch from a young tree pulled down toward the ground, rope pulled tight. 

“Is that…” Joel frowned, so close you could feel him next to you. It didn’t bother you the way it had back in Jackson. It still sent a thrill of fear through you, making your muscles coil and tense, body preparing to defend yourself even though you knew you didn’t need to. But part of you found it oddly comforting, too. In some ways, it felt good to have him close. 

“It’s a snare,” you said, kneeling beside it. You looked closer at the rope, the fibers turning green and fraying at the edges. You reached out, delicately tracing the curve of the branch with one finger. “I think it’s been here for a bit.” 

Joel was silent for a moment. 

“Do you think…” 

“She makes these,” you said softly. “I showed her how to make a few snares, this is the one she uses the most.” 

Joel knelt beside you and you looked at him. His face was soft and eyes warm, looking less pained than you’d seen him in weeks. He got closer to the pins that kept the snare ready to snap up whatever might trigger it. 

“Think you’re right on the timing,” he said. “There’s some moss startin’ in down here, been here at least a month. Probably closer to two.” 

“She wouldn’t have just left it here,” you said as Joel sat back from the trap. “She was good about that, she always got her traps, she remembered where she put them and she got them back. She wouldn’t have just left it here…” 

“Is it OK if I take it down?” Joel’s voice was so gentle and soft, like he was holding a delicate thing with his words. “You can take a closer look at it, see if it really looks like hers…” 

You just nodded, not sure if you’d be able to speak around the knot in your throat. Joel delicately released the snare and freed the pins, one from the rope and the other from the ground. He set them, almost reverently, in your open palm and set about untying the rope from the slender branch. 

You held the pins tightly in your fist for a moment, as though you could absorb some part of Savvy through them if she’d held them like that once. When the wood felt as warm as your fingers and Joel was still beside you, holding the coil of rope, you opened your hand, picking up one of the pins and looking at it closely. 

You’d been the one who showed Savvy how to carve these pins. You’d never been particularly good at woodworking, nothing like Joel with his even, guided knife strokes that shaped the material into something that seemed to have been held within the grain of it from the beginning, he just helped reveal it. Your daughter was better at it than you. Where your pins were always jagged and harsh, hers had an elegance and smoothness to them, precision in her cuts that you’d never been able to find on your own. You’d always wondered if she’d gotten that trait from her mother or her father, if Mark had been able to shape things and you just hadn’t known. Maybe he hadn’t even known. 

The pins in your fingers were fine and almost smooth and your hand shook as you traced the arc of one. 

“Bambi?” Joel said softly. 

“These are hers,” you said, voice thick. “She… she is so good at making these, hers are always so precise and smooth and almost artistic and…” 

He gently took one from you and you let him. He examined it, too, looking closely. 

“I don’t know where she got it from,” you said, looking at him. “I never… I couldn’t teach her to do it that well, I taught her the basics but she is just good. Even when she makes them quick they’re just good and these are hers, Joel, I know they are.” 

“What would make her abandon a trap?” He asked after a moment, looking back at you. 

You thought for a second. 

“Bad weather, maybe,” you said. “If… if she got hurt. If something drove her out of the area and she didn’t have time to collect everything or if she was too hurt to go back for it, that’s the only thing.” 

He nodded slowly, looking back at the pin.

“Joel,” your voice trembled. “Joel, what if something happened to her? What if she’s hurt? What if someone took her, what…” 

“We don’t know anything yet,” he said gently. “It could have been bad weather and she packed up quick. Or she saw a threat and left before it saw her, too.” 

“We have to look around here,” you said. “Please, Joel, I know we’re heading back but we have to look, I can’t…” 

“We’ll look,” he said. “We’ll look, it’s OK.” 

You just nodded and pressed your forehead into his shoulder. You did it without thinking, it was just instinct. Joel was stable and warm and smelled like home and you needed that. You needed him. He was still for a moment before he put an arm around you, holding you gently. 

“We will find her, baby,” he said gently. “It’s OK.” 

The two of you looked for signs of her immediately around the snare but you weren’t that discouraged when you didn’t find any. It had been weeks, footprints in mud and the scars of missing bark from trees would be long gone. 

“Which way would she go?” Joel asked, watching you. 

You sighed, looking around. Your heart was beating like you were running from something and at a fork in the road, forced to make a life or death choice. 

“There’s water, northeast of here I think, right?” You said, trying to orient yourself. “She knew to stick near where she could find water, I think she’d head that way.” 

Joel nodded slowly. 

“Then that’s where we’ll go.” 

He watched you closely for a moment. Your jaw was tight, whole being taut and tense. He slowly, cautiously, reached for you, giving you every opportunity to pull away from him. You didn’t. Instead, you let him pull your worn body against his, his arms wrapping around you, his lips brushing your hair. You put your arms around him, looping them up and over his back, fingers splaying wide and clutching him close for a moment. 

“It’s OK Bambi,” he said. You could feel his voice in his chest. “It’s going to be OK.” 

You took the lead again, every direction change and choice feeling bigger than any other you’d ever made. Every path not followed hurt, a chance that you were losing. You tried not to think about it but your mind kept getting stuck, as though if you concentrated hard enough you could pull yourself apart and the pieces could keep searching. It didn’t matter much if you couldn’t put it all back together again. If you found her, it was worth it. If you didn’t, what would be the point. 

Dusk was on the horizon when you started looking for a place to stop for the night. 

“What’s that?” Joel said after you’d started looking for a good place to rest as well as for signs of Savvy. “To the east a bit?” 

You looked back at him to see where he meant and followed his eye line. There was a bright spot through the trees about a football field away. You frowned a little. 

“Worth looking at,” you looked back toward Joel. He just nodded before nudging Ares toward the bright spot and you followed with Renaissance. When you went to overtake him, he held his hand out. 

“Should stay behind me,” he said. “Just… in case.” 

You frowned a little but nodded and fell in behind him, watching as he brought his rifle forward. Your grip on Renaissance tightened and she huffed, her ears twitching. 

It was almost a let down when it was just a small clearing. For a moment, you thought it was just a quirk of the forest but you saw another spot just beyond that was brighter, too. You dismounted. 

“Got the map?” You asked, tying Renaissance off on a nearby tree before working your way through the brush to the other bright spot. It was a clearing, too. “Looks like campsites.” 

“Here,” Joel said as you came back over, Ares tied off near Renaissance, the map in his hand. “We’re toward the north end of the Shoshone National Forest. Or should be, anyway.” You nodded, looking at the map. It didn’t have things like camp grounds marked that you could see. “Thinkin’ we’re about here.” 

He pointed to a spot on the map and you nodded again. 

“Near water,” you said, looking back up at him. 

“Yeah,” he said. “It’d be a good spot.” 

“Let me just…” you looked out toward the other clearing. “I’ll be back.” 

You didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, you just went back toward the other site, crossing it this time and working your way through the brush to another site. There were five all told and you found the remains of a fire at the fourth one. You knelt beside the small fire pit, the ash pile tall enough that you could tell it was from more than just a day or two. Joel appeared beside you. 

“Someone was here,” you said, nodding at it. “For a little while.” 

Joel’s hand went to the middle of your back and you jumped a little at his touch before you relaxed into it. 

“Could be,” he said, replying to the words you couldn’t say. You just nodded. 

The two of you settled in for the night, finishing off the rabbit from the night before. You tried not to think about patrolling with Joel. How you’d sit near him and find comfort in his presence, how you wanted to do everything beside him. Part of you still lived in that feeling. The rest of you was still chained to a wall, begging for help but getting none. 

Joel hummed quietly as he carved - some small figure that you were curious about but couldn’t bring yourself to ask after - as you stared at the fire, watching the crackle as the wood popped and sparks flew. 

“Do you think I’m crazy?” You asked, arms looped around your knees, looking across the flames to him when you couldn’t take the silence and distance anymore. 

Joel frowned, raising his eyes to yours.

“No. Why would I think you’re crazy?” 

“For doing this,” you said. “Searching with no real idea of where to go, endless space to look, all for someone I don’t…” 

Your voice broke and you looked back at the fire. 

“No,” he said gently. “Not crazy. I’d do the same thing.” 

“Is that why you’re helping me?” You asked, looking back at him. 

He considered you for a moment, a brief flash of hurt in his eyes. 

“Part of it,” he said eventually. “But, Sweetheart… I’d do anything for you. Lookin’ for your girl… that’s… there’s no question. I’m always going to want to help you, always going to want to take care of you. Doesn’t matter what it is but especially with this.” 

You nodded and buried your face in your arms for a moment before you sighed. 

“I’m scared I’m losing my mind,” you said before looking back at him again. “I don’t know if… If what I’m thinking and hoping and basing all this around is real or if it’s just… For a while, when I was with them, when I thought she was gone, I wanted to die. There just wasn’t a reason for any of it and everything just hurt all the time but I couldn’t do it. I just kept living and I resented it. But, after a while, it’s like I talked myself out of it. I convinced myself that she could be out there. Just enough that I could forget how much it hurt. And then I got out. But every time I saw something that made me think that it could be a sign of her… I think I’ve been moving toward this for a long time. Where I can’t be in limbo anymore and can’t just avoid it, where I need to know and… I don’t know how much of it is real and smart and how much of it is something just made out of the hurt and the fact that it seemed like it should have killed me but it didn’t. I don’t know how sane any of it is, Joel. I don’t. But I don’t know if I can survive without it and…” 

You buried your face in your arms again, tears stinging your eyes. 

“I understand, Bambi,” he said gently. You looked up at him, frowning a little. “I did a lot of that when… after Sarah died. I knew she was gone, there wasn’t a question of that. I felt it happen. But… I couldn’t live with it, either.” 

You frowned a little, watching him closely. 

“Tried to end it,” he said, sniffing once, his voice tight. “Next day. Put a gun to my head, figured it’d be quick. Didn’t work, obviously. Flinched.” 

“Joel…” 

“Spent a lot of years after that hidin’ from it,” he continued, turning his carving over in his hands. “Tried not to think about her. Regret that now. Who knows what I forgot because I was so busy trying to not hurt. Tommy never even said her name. We never talked about her. But it seemed like the best part of my day was the half a second after I woke up when I didn’t remember she was gone. Always felt like she was in the next room, that I’d need to make sure she was moving to get out the door on time for school… It took a long time before I found something else to live for. And it sure seems like she found me, not the other way around. Then we came to Jackson and I… I found you. With her and with you, seemed like there was a reason I flinched back then. Like part of me knew there was a reason to go on and I’d find it eventually. 

“You’ve got that, too. Even if… even if it’s not me and even if it doesn’t seem like it. You have things to live for, baby. Promise you do. You may not even know what they are yet but you have ‘em. You just have to keep living, that’s all. Just keep survivin’. Please.” 

You watched him through the flames for a moment before you got up and came around the flames to sit beside him, close but not so close that you were touching. He froze as you leaned over, slowly, to rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m glad it didn’t work,” you said quietly. 

“Me, too,” he replied after a moment. 

“I don’t know what I want right now,” you said, watching the fire. “But I know that I’m glad you exist. That I want you to be happy.” 

You felt him turn ever so slightly, his lips and his nose brushing the top of your head. 

“I’m here for you,” he said softly. “However you want me, I’ll do whatever you want. As long as you’re safe and happy, I’ll do whatever you want.” 

He held his large hand out to you, a small carving of a deer in his fingers. You took it, turning its delicate body in the light. 

“It’s yours, if you want it,” he said quietly. “All yours either way.” 

***

You wanted to follow the river the next day. Joel was fine with that, especially since you picked the route that curved back toward Jackson. Or, at least, in that general direction. It was still a few days ride and he’d already made notes of where you’d found signs of Savvy to come back and check again if the two of you didn’t find her on this trip out. 

You were more yourself than you had been in a long time. The two of you stopped for lunch and to give the horses a longer break and Joel started carving again, just to give himself something to do besides look at you. That hurt too much.

“Can you teach me?” You asked after a few minutes. He looked at you for a moment, surprised you were talking to him at all. It had been a quiet almost two weeks with you. 

“Sure,” he said before you had a chance to take it back. “Want to come sit by me? Grab…” he looked around for a moment before finding a hunk of wood on the ground that looked like it would work. “That there?” 

You nodded and moved to be next to him. Careful, he noticed, to not touch him but close enough that you could easily see his hands. He cleared his throat. 

“Want to find the grain of the wood,” he said, watching as you turned the chunk of wood in your hands. “Want to work with it, go against it and it’ll split.” 

“Makes sense,” you said. Fuck, you were so close to him. 

“Start with a rough cuts, get the outline of what you want to make,” he said. “Knife in your dominant hand, wood in the other. Hold it real firm and cut away from your body in thin slices, don’t go too deep or it’ll fracture.” 

You nodded and looked at the wood again, frowning down at it.

“What do you want to make?” He asked after you didn’t move to cut it. 

“A moose, I think,” you said. “Just not sure where to start.”  

He nodded slowly. 

“Can I?” He asked, hand out. You shrugged and handed the wood over. He turned it in his hands for a moment, getting a feel for the shape of it, finding the grain. “Here,” he said, holding it close to you. “Back’ll probably be this part here…” He notched the blade against the wood and cut into it. “That’ll make this the neck.” He adjusted the knife and cut again. “Legs down here. You try that one.” 

He handed the wood back and your fingers brushed his as you took it. He clenched his hand into a fist in his lap, squeezing some of the tension swelling in him out before releasing it. 

“Here?” You asked, lining up your knife. 

“Yeah,” Joel said. “But turn it a bit so you’re cuttin’ more away from yourself…” He helped you adjust and felt your skin on his again. You made the cut. “There ya go. Go back over the whole thing like that, shave off a bit more…” 

You nodded and set to work and Joel tried to not watch you too obsessively. He didn’t want to push you away or make you uncomfortable but fuck you were so close and you weren’t mad at him. So much of what he remembered of how you felt in his arms had gotten mixed up in the night you’d left Jackson, how he clutched onto you while you screamed. He wasn’t sure you’d ever let him close again and now you were beside him because you chose it. He couldn’t ruin it. He went back to his own carving.

“Alright,” you said eventually, holding up the wood. “Think I’ve got it. Now what?” 

He looked at it and nodded.

“Good job,” he said. “There are two other kinds of cuts you’ll use for the rest of it. One where you pull the knife toward yourself - most common one - and one where you push it. Pull is a lot like paring, you’re gonna brace the wood with your thumb and then pull your knife towards it.”He showed you on his carving and you leaned in close, nodding. “Keep your thumb back so you don’t get hurt, though.” 

You nodded and positioned your hands like his before pressing into the wood. The first cut was jagged but the beginning of the technique was there. And you didn’t cut your thumb, so it was enough for him to call it a success.

“Good,” he said and you looked up at him, smiling a little. 

He showed you how to do the push stroke, too, and the two of you sat in near silence for a bit, working at your carvings. Joel kept glancing your way, trying to not look too long so he didn’t distract you but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful for it. He was close to you, close enough that your elbow brushed against him now and then and he could hear you breathing, with a reason to look at you. He’d have been happy to stay like that for hours, with birds singing and you breathing, like nothing bad had ever happened to either of you at all. 

You’d made good progress when you cursed and hissed, dropping the wood and bringing your hand to your mouth. 

“Cut your thumb?” He asked, setting his carving and knife down. You nodded, thumb between your lips. He held out his hand. “Lemme see.” 

“Uh uh,” you muttered as you sucked on your injured finger. 

“C’mon, Bambi,” he smiled a little. “Happens to everyone, especially when you’re learnin’. Lemme see it.” 

You looked at him with those wide eyes of yours like you were half expecting him to judge you for your slip. But you sighed and pulled your thumb from your mouth and thrust your hand at him. He took it gently, yours so much smaller than his own that it seemed delicate even with the callus from guitar and riding on your fingertips and palms. The cut on your thumb started beading with blood before he had a chance to look at it and he frowned for a second before raising your hand to his mouth, putting your small hurt between his lips and pulling the salt and copper of you into him. Your breath hitched and Joel felt you stiffen beside him and it was only then that he realized what he’d done without thinking, the casual intimacy of caring for your body with his own. There was still a part of him that couldn’t accept the separation from you. It felt like an unnatural thing, you existing so separate from him that you could be hurting next to him and he was supposed to ignore it hadn’t even crossed his mind. He pulled your hand carefully from his mouth. 

“Sorry,” he said, voice gruff, as he delicately examined the cut. It was deeper than he’d hoped but not to the bone. “S’not too bad, lemme just…” He released your hand and went into his bag, pulling out a scrap of fabric he had just for this kind of injury. He took your hand back and poured a little water over the cut before he wrapped it tightly, knotting the cotton around your thumb. “Keep that elevated for a minute, should stop bleeding before too long. When it does, we’ll get going.” 

You nodded and Joel picked up your carving from where you’d dropped it. The moose was starting to take shape, though its form was jagged and rough. But the ruggedness suited it, something powerful not easily contained by the wood. Your blood stained the side of its chest, near where its heart would be. Joel tried to wipe it away but some had already seeped in, a red splotch on its chest.

“I ruined him,” you said, sounding a little sad. Joel glanced over at you, your eyes focused on the small creature in his palm, lips turned into a small frown.

“Think he’ll be alright, Bambi,” Joel smiled a little. “Besides, he only exists because of you. Don’t think you can ruin him.”

After a moment, Joel took your bleeding hand back and checked the bandage. It looked to be holding. 

“We should go,” you said, a little breathless, watching him. 

“Yes,” a voice from behind the two of you said. “You really should.” 

Joel jumped to his feet and drew his gun, aiming it at a group of five men who - while he was distracted by you and your proximity and your blood - had managed to sneak up on him. He cursed himself silently as he glanced quickly to where you’d been. You were on your feet, too, gun drawn and held in front of you. He adjusted so he was between you and them. 

“Not lookin’ for any trouble,” Joel said. “Just passing through. Appreciate it if you’d let us.” 

“Not too fond of folks passing through,” one of the men stepped forward, lowering his gun just a bit. The other four kept their weapons trained on Joel. He wasn’t in a good position to take out a group like this. He wished he had his rifle instead of his handgun but the rifle was strapped to Ares and he was tied to a tree a good 20 feet away. He ground his teeth. “Because it never seems like they’re just passing through.” 

Joel stepped back until he felt you at his back and he breathed a little easier. He just needed to keep you in one piece, that’s all. 

“Well, we are,” Joel said. “Looking for someone, think she might have come through here. Once we look for her, we’ll be on our way.” 

“No one out here but us,” the man said. “Took this territory few months back and believe me, we’re not about to let anyone just take what’s ours.” 

“She wouldn’t steal from you,” you snapped, stepping out from behind Joel. 

“Bambi,” he hissed but you ignored him. 

“She’s a teenager,” you said. “Brown skin, brown eyes, curly hair. She set up a snare about a day’s ride from here so she was probably around for a while…” 

“Told you,” the man said. “Don’t let people take what’s ours. This is our territory, don’t let just anybody hunt on it. We got folks to look after, can’t have just anyone taking animals on our land. Including you. So you can come with us or we can handle this here.” 

Joel glanced at you, trying to do the calculus of what was the best move. Did he risk taking a hand off his weapon to throw you behind him? Did he start shooting and move himself in front of you? Did he try to talk these idiots down? 

“We haven’t hunted in days,” you bit out before Joel had a chance to decide. “Haven’t taken anything of yours, just want to keep looking…” 

“See, now, don’t think I can believe that,” the man said. Joel clenched his jaw. “Sure as shit can’t trust you to just stay in our territory…” 

“We’ll leave,” Joel said, catching a glimpse of your head whipping around to stare him down. “Already heading back toward ours…” 

One of the the four men toward the back took a step closer to you and Joel reacted before he really thought about it. It was instinctual. There was a threat to you and he took that threat down, the gunshot cracking through the air as the man dropped to the earth. 

Everything happened quickly then. There was a split second of near silence, the echo of the bullet hanging heavy over the shocked silence of the surrounding forest, and the shooting began. 

Joel moved for you as one of your bullets hit one of the men. Joel threw you behind a tree and kept shooting as the other men scrambled for cover. 

“Three left,” you said, scrambling to reload before looking up at Joel, panting for breath. “Should leave at least one alive, question him.” 

Joel nodded, gun low. A chunk of tree trunk exploded near his head and he flinched. 

“I’m gonna draw their fire…” 

“No,” you shook your head, cutting him off. “No, you can’t…” 

“You cover me,” he said, ignoring you. “They’re gonna expose themselves to take a shot, take ‘em down then. Stay back. Something happens to me, get out of here, OK?” 

“Joel,” you said, voice sharp and eyes wide, but he pressed on. There was the sharp crack of another bullet hitting the tree. 

“You need to stay alive for her, OK?” He said. “Understand? You’re the only one who knows she’s missing and how to find her so you stay alive for her.” 

He didn’t wait for you to respond. Instead he looked back over his shoulder and around the tree, as much as he dared to catch a glimpse of their positions before looking back at you. 

“I’m going on three, OK baby?” He looked in your eyes for what he hoped wouldn’t be the last time and took a deep breath. He wanted to touch you, promise you it was all going to be OK, but kept his hands on his gun. “I love you. No matter what.” 

He counted down before you had a chance to say anything back and ran for a tree that would give him cover while also giving him a chance to get closer to the last of the men. A bullet passed so close to him he felt it on the air and you started shooting almost immediately, your second shot hitting one of the men in the chest. Joel kept shooting and so did you, but he was pretty sure it was his shot that felled the next man, just as he reached the other tree. That left one who was alive. He reloaded and looked over to you from his new position, your chest heaving but face set firm. He jerked his head back, hoping you’d understand what he wanted you to do. You nodded once. He held up three fingers and you nodded again. He counted down and you both moved. He tracked you with his eyes for a moment, thankful you got what he’d been trying to communicate with you. You moved quickly but delicately around the edge of the trees, going to loop around the back side of where the men were hiding. Joel went the other way. With any luck, he’d meet you in the middle by the final man. 

“You two sure cause a lot of trouble for folks just passin’ through,” the first man called. Joel was quiet. That meant he probably hadn’t seen the two of you start to move. “Should understand why we kill everyone who comes through. Probably killed that girl you’re after. If she was around here few months back we did.” Joel clenched his jaw. He was getting close to the man’s position, having to move slowly to not make a sound. “Cleared the land when we took over, folks could join up or they got handled. If she’s anything like you two, she got handled.” 

Joel barely had a chance to hope you didn’t take the bait when you roared, the sound sharp and harsh. He moved quickly then, just in time to see you knock the man’s gun out of his hand as he got a shot off. It grazed your arm but you didn’t seem to notice. You tackled him but couldn’t leverage yourself to stay on top fast enough and he slammed you into the ground with a sickening thud. You were still as he scrambled to his feet and brought his foot down, hard, on your arm. Joel heard it snap half a second before you screamed and he finally - finally - reached the man, looping an arm around his throat and pulling him back, pressing the gun to his temple. 

“That was a fuckin’ mistake,” he growled. The man clawed uselessly at Joel’s arm. “If you’re smart, you’ll cooperate. If you ain’t, that’s OK too. Don’t mind forcing you.” 

Joel looked down toward you, tears in your eyes as you lay flat on your back, pupils blown. 

“You still with me, baby?” He asked, resisting the urge to snap the man’s neck. You nodded and blinked tears from your eyes. “Good. Stay put, just a minute, OK?” 

Joel wrenched the man around and shoved him to the ground before pressing him back against a tree. He flinched back for a moment and Joel almost smiled at him. He was afraid. Afraid was good.

“Gonna ask you just a few questions,” Joel said, gun still pressed to the man’s chest. “And you can tell me what I want to know or I can hurt you. Either way, I get what I want. Don’t matter much to me which way it goes.” 

“Sure we can work something out,” the man said, his eyes darting and wide. “We’ve got a good crew, we’re setting up something permanent, could use someone with your skills…” 

“Don’t need a place,” Joel cut him off. “Especially not with someone who would kill a kid. That what you did? You kill a kid?” 

“Look…” he said but Joel turned the gun down and pressed it to the man’s thigh, pulling the trigger. The shot was nearly deafening and the spray of blood was hot as the man screamed, his hands flying to his mangled leg, his torso arching over his injured limb. Joel calmly wiped the man’s blood off his gun using some denim that had missed the splatter before he holstered it. He pulled out his knife and opened it before pressing his knee into the shin of the man’s injured leg. He screamed again and Joel held up the knife.

“Got plenty of places I can put this, too,” he said, voice calm. “So answer the question. Did you kill a kid?” 

“I’m sorry,” he slumped back against the tree, his hands clutching around his injured thigh, as though that would hold him together. “We… we killed a lot of people when we moved in here, there were people all through this area but they… they weren’t organized, just nomads. They were a threat, we’ve been running from another group, made it far enough from where they mark their territory, needed to stake a claim before we lost that, too. We offered… anyone we found we offered a place but if they didn’t hold up their end or if they turned it down we killed ‘em, couldn’t let ‘em live, they knew too much, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” 

“Still haven’t answered the question,” Joel said. “Did you kill a kid?” 

“My kid,” you said, voice closer than Joel had expected it. He glanced back to you and you were standing just behind him, cradling your arm to your chest. “She’s 14, brown skin, brown eyes, curly hair. She was out here about two months ago. Seen anyone like that?” 

Joel tried to not picture Sarah trying to navigate the wilderness alone.

“No,” the man shook his head quickly. “No, I haven’t I swear I haven’t, not back at the settlement, not out here, I haven’t, I promise! I promise.” 

“Any of your buddies mention someone like that?” Joel asked, knife still in hand. “Any of your buddies take a liking to teenaged girls?” 

“What?” He frowned. Joel sighed and thrust the knife into the man’s good leg at the knee. He screamed, shooting forward in pain. Joel waited for the choking sobs to turn to whimpers. 

“Asked if your buddies might have mentioned her,” he said. “Or if any of ‘em like teenaged girls. Think you know what I’m askin’.” 

The man panted and looked up at you, as though you’d help him. Joel grabbed the man’s chin, yanking his gaze back to him. 

“Not at her,” he said. “You’re with me. Answer the question or I’m gonna make things a whole lot worse for you. Any of your buddies mention a girl like her? Any of them have a habit of taking up with girls?” 

“No,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “No, none of them mentioned her but…” 

Joel was quiet for a moment, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, he gripped the knife, adding just enough pressure that the man yelped and started panting for breath. 

“But?” Joel asked. 

“But they wouldn’t have mentioned her!” He cried out, opening his eyes to look up at you again. “We didn’t talk about who we took out, there were a few dozen and… I’m sorry, if she was here… if she was here when we came through…” 

Joel pulled the knife out before he could finish the statement. You didn’t need to hear that. 

“Where’s your settlement?” Joel asked, wiping the blood on a clean spot on the man’s shirt before pressing the point to the man’s throat, just enough that he’d feel the sharp of it.

“Northeast!” He said. “Northeast, just south of the road going into Cody, about 20 miles west of the town. We… we’ve claimed through here all the way about five miles south as ours, we’ve got about 250 folks up that way…” 

Joel nodded and closed the knife before standing. He looked over at you, at the cold and detached look in your eyes. 

“Bambi,” he said gently, but you ignored him. 

Instead, you pulled out your gun and aimed it at the man’s head. He barely had a chance to raise his hands, didn’t have a chance to beg for his life, before you shot him point blank, his blood splattering your good hand as your broken arm hung, limp and misshapen, at your side. The man’s body slumped over and you screamed at it, the sound seeming like it was ripping up from the center of you. You screamed until you were out of breath and you stood there, standing over the man’s broken form, the gun dangling from your fist, tears in your eyes. 

Joel wordlessly went to one of the other men, one he’d shot in the head. The blood splatter on his shirt was minimal. He pulled it off the corpse and brought it over to you. 

“Give me your arm,” he said gently. You didn’t seem to hear him. He gingerly took the elbow of your broken arm and you jumped, looking at him like you were surprised he was there. “Here, it’s OK sweetheart.” 

He tucked your arm into the soft flannel before he tied the sleeves of the shirt together and draped it around your neck. He went to your other arm, the one that had been grazed by the gunshot and looked at you for a moment, a silent request for permission. You gave him a single nod before he poured water over the wound, cleaning it as best he could. It didn’t look too bad, at least. It would leave a scar but the damage shouldn’t be anything more than that. He got a bandage from his pack and wrapped it around your bicep before tying it off. 

“Bambi,” he said again, though he wasn’t sure what he was going to say. 

“We should move,” you said, your voice flat. “Sure that drew plenty of attention.” 

You stalked back over to where the horses had been tethered - thankfully safe from the gunfire - and stopped to pick up the carving and your knife from the ground. Joel followed behind you and watched as you carefully packed the half-formed moose away before tucking the folded knife into your pocket. He went to help you up onto Renaissance but you brushed him off. 

“Broken bones before,” you snapped. You tried to glare at him but your eyes were so empty. “Know how to get on a horse with one, I’m not useless.” 

“OK,” he said softly. “I’m here if you need.” 

You mounted up fine - not that he should have been surprised - and Joel got on Ares, both horses surprisingly serene given the gunfight that had happened not far from them only 20 minutes earlier. But Joel knew you’d worked to desensitize them to the sound of guns. You’d made them all but warhorses, sturdy enough to withstand anything the apocalypse would throw at them. It had served the two of you well.

“They said northeast, right?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder at him. 

“Bambi…” 

“If they killed her, I’m killing them,” you said. “I don’t care.” 

“You don’t know that they did,” he said, bringing his horse alongside yours. 

You stared him down. 

“Sounds like they killed enough to deserve it either way.” 

“Maybe so,” Joel said carefully. He tried to imagine how someone would need to talk him down from killing everyone who’d planned to kill Ellie. If someone would have even been able to stop him from killing every person in that goddamn hospital. “But you’re hurt…”

“Joel.”

 “We’re low on ammo. Goin’ now will just get you killed and…” 

“So?” You yelled. “Do you think I care? You think it matters if…” 

“It matters!” He yelled back, his chest tight. He fought to stay in the present, stay with you here in the wild and not in a field outside Austin as he felt his daughter die and not on the floor of a broken house with your cold, barely breathing body pressed against him. “It matters to me and it matters to Ellie and, goddammit, it matters to your daughter! You don’t know, Bambi, you can’t know if she’s gone. But you’re the only one who knows how to look for her and I’m not going to let you throw that away, I’m not. I am not takin’ you there and we both know that, without one arm, you ain’t gettin’ far without me. We’re going back to Jackson. Now.”

You stared him down for a moment, a shadow of rage in your eyes before that died, too. He made you take the lead so he could keep a proper eye on you and the two of you made decent progress before stopping for the night, Joel hunting on the way so he wasn’t going to leave you unattended. He took your weapons when you did. You glared at him but handed over your side arm. 

“Knife, too,” he said, his hand out. 

“Fuck you.” 

He didn’t take the bait. He just kept his hand out. After a moment, you wrenched it out of your pocket and smacked it into his waiting palm. 

“Thank you.” 

You kept your distance from him that evening, just staring blankly into the fire and cradling your broken arm. 

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Bambi,” he said as you set up to sleep and he got set to keep watch. “I’m trying to protect you.” 

“I know,” you said quietly. 

It took days to reach Jackson, your arm discolored and pain the only thing visible in your eyes when you got there. Joel brought you straight to the clinic and walked you inside, still not willing to let you out of his sight. He couldn’t hold your body. Not yours, too. 

He took the horses to the stables, giving a confused Renaissance an extra apple as she chuffed, looking for you. 

“Gettin’ her taken care of, too,” he said gently stroking her neck. She bobbed her large head. “She’ll… she’ll get there. It’s OK.” 

He went back to the clinic after and sat on the steps outside, waiting for you to come out, hoping he wouldn’t see Ellie until he went home for the night. He wanted to see her, hug her, but he wasn’t sure if you could handle it. And he didn’t want to try to explain everything to her, at least not everything about you. 

Joel wasn’t sure how long he sat there waiting when the door behind him opened with a creak and he turned to see you standing at the top of the steps, your arm in a proper cast with more than a makeshift sling this time. 

“You’re still here,” you said, your voice flat. 

“Figured I’d walk you home,” he replied. 

“What, haven’t had enough of me over the last few weeks?” You asked. It seemed like you’d meant to put your usual bite behind the words but they were just hollow. 

“No,” he replied. “No such thing as enough of you.” 

He carried your pack for you, walking alongside you on your slow path home. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked after a few minutes of silence. 

You shrugged. 

“Took some doing to get my arm set. Had worse.” 

Joel nodded. 

“And how are you feeling… outside that.” 

You were quiet for a moment. 

“I don’t know.” 

He nodded again, making his way to the front gate of your home. You opened it and didn’t stop him from coming up the walk so he followed you to your door. You stopped there, holding out your good arm for your bag. 

“Thanks for your help,” you said, looking at his chest instead of really at him. 

“Course,” he said. You went to open your door but he stopped you, a large hand cupped gently around the elbow of your intact arm. “Bambi…” 

You looked at him with those wide eyes. He sighed. 

“I don’t know if it’s right, leaving you here alone.” 

“I’ll be OK,” you shrugged. “Not your job to worry about me.” 

“I want to worry about you.” 

You sighed. 

“Joel…” 

“I do,” he said. “Doesn’t matter what you do or say, I do. And I’m going to.” 

You looked at him. 

“I don’t think it’s good for us to spend time together right now,” you said. 

He tried to not let the hurt show, the feeling of a knife twisting in his gut. 

“You want something different than me,” you continued. “And I just… I can’t. Not right now. And I don’t think us spending time together is smart.” 

Joel nodded slowly. 

“I can wait.” 

“You shouldn’t,” you said, chin jutting out defiantly. The knife twisted again. “You should move on. It’s for the best.” 

“And what are you gonna do?” He asked. 

You sighed and looked back out at the street. There were birds in the distance and the wind blew in the smell of apple blossoms from the orchard just outside the walls. It would be idyllic if his heart wasn’t cracking open and bleeding on your porch. 

“Survive, I guess.” 

“Bambi,” you looked back at him. “Meant what I said out there. You can’t give up, OK? You have to find something to fight for. You can. I know you can. And we don’t know if what they said was true, we can’t know. We can keep looking. Once you’re healed, we’ll find another window, we’ll search. She got out of there in a hurry, she probably just…” 

“Right,” you said. It didn’t sound like you believed it. 

“Promise me,” he said. 

You frowned. 

“Promise you what?” 

“That if I leave you here you won’t do what I did,” he said. “That you’ll be stronger than me and live with it. That if you need someone you’ll come to me and you won’t try to do it alone. Because I meant it, all of it. May not be the same for you anymore but that’s OK. Think I can love you enough for the both of us, just come to me when you need it, please. Need you to promise me, sweetheart. Please.” 

“Joel…” 

“Promise me.” 

 Your eyes met his and, for a moment, he could have sworn he saw a shadow of the spark of you there. That you were there, buried deep in grief and pain and betrayal. 

You took a deep breath.

“I promise.” 

Joel slowly, cautiously, raised a hand to cup your cheek. You didn’t stop him. Instead, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, your lips parting like you were going to kiss him. But you didn’t and he didn’t try to take it. Instead, he tilted your head and nuzzled against your forehead for a moment before kissing you there, pressing his lips against your skin, breathing in the smell of your hair. He lingered against you as long as he could before he stepped back, taking a moment to memorize you. 

You took a deep breath. 

“Goodbye, Joel.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Goodbye, Bambi.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: I am so so sorry for the wait on this and for the fact that it's a bit of a monster chapter. It got away from me, I admit. I'm trying to get back into the swing of my regular writing cadence now that the holidays are through and I so appreciate you being here and your patience ❤️

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

[atlas-nsfw]

Good luck with your final papers! When you’re done and have time, can I request an afab!reader x unicorn with breeding kink and first time/defloration?

I know virginity is a ridiculous social construct, but I was thinking about the archetypal unicorn trait where they can only be tamed or approached by virgins. Plus the thought of having to take a massive horse cock for your first time is both terrifying and tantalizing.

Also, random question… do any of the humans with womb tattoos on the ark enjoy being bred, or actively go out of their way to be impregnated by monsters?

🪢

Most kinks aren’t based on reality anyway so virginity kinks aren’t really different! Virginity and monsters are both made up and what kind of hypocrite would I be if I turned down one and not the other.

As for your question: it varies from person to person! The tattoo helps numb pain and make the tattoo holder more easily aroused but it isn’t flat out mind control. Some people arrive and their first monster experience and birth are so startling that they end up hating it. Other humans really enjoy themselves, usually because their first time with a monster is really good. The main scary part is not understanding the languages of the monsters (as well as the less sapient monsters and the monsters who just use humans as cum dumps and dildos). Between you and me, Lamia are probably the best monsters to end up with. They keep as many humans as they want and spoil them the whole time!

Now for your afab!reader x m!unicorn! As expected it takes place on the Monster Ark. Cw: virginity kink, dubcon, non-sapient monster, hypnosis

You awoke in a warm, shaded grove on a bed on moss. A brook babbled nearby and several large, moss covered stones rested nearby. They appeared to be part of a ruin. Your first thought was this must have been a dream. Why else would you be naked and out in the wilderness? Furthermore, there was a strange glowing tattoo on your stomach that you absolutely did not remember getting.

You looked to the sound of the water and saw it.

The unicorn stood on slender, elegant legs, white fur glistening with an unnatural glimmer. Its large brown eyes looked into you and you felt at peace in its gaze. You felt no fear as it approached. Instead, you felt a warmth blooming in your core.

It leaned its head down, the tip of its horn touching your forehead. You let out a sigh, utterly relaxed. You limbs

Moved on their own, causing you to stand and walk with the unicorn to the ruins. There, you laid down on a narrow stone. Your head felt pleasantly fuzzy as you spread your legs. You remained content even as the beast stood over you, the flat head of its cock poking your virgin cunt.

It was only when it pushed inside you, breaking and spreading you with its inhuman girth, did the daze lift. You gasped, the pain too intense to even muster a scream. You clawed at the moss, unable to move with the massive cock speared inside you. It pushed further and further as tears filled your eyes. For the first time, you considered it not a dream.

“Oh dear!” A soft voice chirped in your ear. You turned your head to see a little naked person with dragonfly wings. A pixie. He grinned at you. “You look to be in pain! Don’t worry. I can help!”

“G-get it off,” you rasped.

“No, no. He has chosen you! But I can help with the pain until your tattoo kicks in!” The pixie beamed, rubbing his hands together before blowing on them.

Sparkling dust blew across your face and you shut your eyes. The pain evaporated. All that was left was a wonderful, full filling.

The unicorn dragged his cock most of the way out, until just his head filled you, before slamming back in to start an intense pace. This abuse of your insides should have been excruciating but instead of cries of pain, only moans of pleasure came out. It felt so good to give your virginity to this monster. All of the reasons you thought of holding onto it before were meaningless. You loved this thing and its cock.

Thoughts of all else fell away as you begged, not for it to stop. No, you begged for more, you begged for the monster for fill your womb with its seed, you begged to be knocked up by this strange creature. It could have your virginity, your body. It could use you whenever it wanted. You would give it foals. All you wanted in return was this pleasure forever.

Taglist: @leitor-sonolento, @kittycatkandies , @ren-lives-here , @tiredsleepyhead

[kendraw]

To Exist is to be Seen Chapter 1: You can lead a horse to therapy but you can’t get it to open up about its parental issues!

Summary: Bill "talks it out" with his therapist in the Theraprism, and by "talk it out" I mean he loses his shit. (Post-canon)

Warnings: talk of death, swearing, talk of mental illness

Rating: Mature

Words: 3257

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Characters: Bill Cipher, unnamed therapist, Original Characters (If ya know ya know.)

Author's Notes: Fic I've been stewing on and cooking for a while, finally found it in myself to post it. Fair warning that it has... ORIGINAL CHARACTERS... OH NO! Happy New Year, everybody!

Chapter 1: You can lead a horse to therapy but you can’t get it to open up about its parental issues!

The mind of Bill Cipher was not one that many could grasp- not in its entirety- and this wasn't due to some imposed deepness or the fact that he was a notorious gaslighting liar. 

No… The reason that his mind was difficult to comprehend was due to his very existence. Bill existed in a state best comparable to the observer effect of physics, but through the myopic lens of fallibilism. He was a being whose experience with reality, physical matter, and relative existence was entirely dependent on observable data- ergo, if he himself could not observe something- it did not exist to him.

Bill Cipher was less of a schrodinger's cat and more of a falling tree in a haunted forest, a forest that people had been warned of and had been long since abandoned. When he was perceived- he existed. And if he could see it- then he could know it. The all seeing eye was- in some ways- accurate. But the title should have come with several annotations and a caveat: he only knew what he could see, he only saw what was shown to him. 

A drawing was not just a peephole for him, but a lifeline. Proof that he existed. Proof that he was REAL.

His relationship with humanity was comparable to a hostage situation.  He depended on them, he still existed because of them, and he knew them more intimately than he was willing to know himself. He couldn't escape them, and with how heavily he tied himself in their history, neither could they escape him. 

To look inward meant he was forced to face his own existence- and he didn't want to do that. He would rather have others look upon him and give him purpose. But he would never admit to that. 

Because his existence was predicated on his perception and the interactions beings had with him, his experience with time followed the same principles. Cipher experienced time based entirely on observable data and his own awareness of events and instances. Billions of years could flash in an instance for him until he was observing the moment. And to observe the moment, he had to be invoked. Right now, however, Bill did not want to be summoned, Bill wanted to disassociate and drift off into the liminal space of the void. It was unfortunate, then, that he found himself being the center of attention, something he never thought he’d dislike or shirk away from. His therapist sat across from him and folded their legs while balancing their laced fingers on their knees. “Hello Bill, How are you feeling today?” They said in an amorphis tone that was unreadable, it was also not something someone would call “relaxing.” 

Bill's eye rolled until he looked upon his therapist. Their form was foreign and unknowable, Bill could neither discern their thoughts, nor could he fully analyze their intent. All Bill could do was speculate, and the conclusion he came to was that therapists were condescending. All their questions, in his mind, were an attempt to get at him, to find his weak spots, to tear him down and then reconstruct him. He didn't like people putting him under a microscope, it made him feel unbelievably small and exposed. There was not just an absence of control, but ask him the right questions and he might reveal too much. Every question they asked him led to them knowing him- and the more they learned the harder it was for him to rewrite the past and twist the truth. 

Bill wasn't great at keeping a level head, he wasn't willing to realize nor change this about himself, but it could be exploited if someone knew what buttons to press. He was quick to anger, and anger led to over-sharing, and oversharing led to more weaknesses being revealed. Emotional fragility was a weakness. And Bill Cipher did not want to show weakness. But push him and poke him the right way, and he'd fold like a house of cards in the form of a screaming tantrum. That in itself was a defense mechanism. The screaming diatribes he'd go off on were a pathetic attempt at getting the last word in. A last ditch effort towards shutting the other person up and making them rethink ever questioning him.

"The answer should be obvious, shouldn't it?" He narrowed his eye "All you "doctors" do is gossip, so you already know full well what I've been dealing with." He imitated the therapist's pose in a mocking manner and smirked with his eye. "How about we switch it up? I could try asking YOU pointless questions!"

The therapist paused but didn't react beyond that- only their calm collected and inhuman voice replied.

"Alright, ask away."

Bill didn't like this, were they messing with him? It felt like a trap. He hesitated for only a second but his therapist took note. 

"Great! So we all know that therapists only go into mental health because they're too messed up to deal with their own problems and need to feel better about themselves by judging others, so! What messed up backstory do you have going on?" 

The therapist shifted in a way that, if looked at closely, could be seen as them thinking of a response. They finally answered. 

"I don't have much of a backstory myself, I just enjoy hearing about the lives of others and seeing beings improve and get better." They paused, "Do you feel judged, Bill?"

He knew this was bait, but he didn't care, he was going to give this crackpot a piece of his mind! 

"Of course I do! You all pretend to have my best interest at heart- but I know the truth! You're just trying to wear me down and reshape me until all that's left is a smooth blanched surface with no character! You're all threatened by what I could do so you need to take out the competition! But your brainwashing won't work on me, Jack! I've run cults before and I know what mental reconstruction looks like!" He tapped a space right above his eye and narrowed it at them "reincarnation? A better self? All lies you make up to get rid of any opposition! You can't fool me, I've been around the block and been in the minds of geniuses far greater than all of you."

"Are you opposed to the concept of reinvention and self forgiveness?" they asked, tilting what might be their head, he still wasn’t sure.

"What's there to forgive?!" Bill replied quickly  “I don't see why me trying to liberate dimensions is such a big deal! Have you seen what they do with their limited lifespans? They're miserable! I was doing them a favor!” He throws his cartoony arms up in the air as if to emphasize a point before he continues. “Everyone talks about how terrible my reign was, but if you took a peak at their political systems you'd agree that what I was doing was merciful, a kindness. At least I made things interesting instead of killing them with THAT mess.” He looked right at the therapist “Did you know most of them don’t even have healthcare? But no, I’m the bad guy apparently, just because I released some madness bubbles and reshaped the foundation!”

Bill huffed, acting like this whole Therapy thing was an inconvenience. He continued to excuse his past actions with an even tone and a confident flair. “They're so desperate for an escape that, to take their minds off their own suffering, they watch others to find entertainment in their suffering instead! Honestly I get it! Pain is hilarious, especially when you're the one causing it, but it's pretty sad that that's all they do for entertainment! Most of the time it's just watching others' problems and judging them vicariously!”

He pauses and his bottom eyelid lifts in a mock “smiling” sort of way. “Hey, kind of like you!” His voice was cheerful, but it was clear that something about the question made him uncomfortable and he was trying desperately to deflect.

"Is that the same reason for your actions in Euclydia?"

Cipher froze but was quick to rebound, his tone was sharper now, more biting. "All I did there was try and change some minds and rescue them from their boring, tenseless existence- so, yeah! Trust me, I did them a favor! They weren't doing anything of note or importance- they were all locked in a perpetual monotonous dance of mind-numbing, soul-sucking servitude to an uncaring universe in a boring story as B-list characters. I helped them see there's so much more! I gave them the opportunity to rewrite their stories- like me!" He folded his arms "it's not my fault that they lacked imagination and couldn't manage what I had- but I guess that's the cold truth of reality! Some people are born special, like me, and some people aren't." 

All Bill was willing to say about his past without rewriting and obfuscating the details therein is that he came from a place called Euclydia in the second dimension. Second dimensional forms, at their core- are ideas, thought experiments meant to give way to a better understanding of the universe. Time in the second dimension is a line drawn between two points- it is tenseless and only accounts for the past and the future, the beginning and the end. It would be more fitting to compare the second dimensions’ experience with time with a book. The entire universe and all of its facets exist within the pages, and when it is closed- it is done. This doesn't mean the death of the 2nd dimension, more so that everything that is and was is tied up neatly with a bow- you could return to it at any time and the inhabitants would be none the wiser.

And Bill had burned his universe's book.

"Do you think that someone being special allows them the right to live or die, then?"

"Of course! Some people get it and others don't- most don't. Special people change the world, after all. That's where all that mumbo-jumbo about "making the world a better place" comes from! That's a message to the specials. And the normies have us to thank for it- but what do we get in return? They try to hold us back! Because they're jealous! The world- the UNIVERSE would be more AMAZING, more FUN if they just gave in and let us do the talking and decision making." His voice was quickening "They instill all this moral jargon in us to hold us back and make us second guess ourselves- but it's all just a plot to control US and keep things 'safe' and 'familiar'. They're cowards. Too afraid to look at the big picture." With how he refused to look at the being in front of him, it was clear that he had someone specific in mind. The therapist noticed the faroff look in his eye. He was thinking about him again.

“You said you’ve been in the minds of geniuses, is there something that draws you to people like that in particular?” Without missing a beat Cipher stood up and waved his tiny little black arms around, there was a playful excitement in his movements as he started to divulge more details.

“Who else could get it?! It’s hard to find someone as intelligent as me, impossible even, but there’s some folks out there that can understand what I’m saying without replying with ‘what?’ every 5 seconds! Do you know how hard it is to have a conversation with someone when they don’t contribute anything to the discussion? They might be a tool for me to use in the grand scheme of things but I’d at least like to be stimulated!” He put his hands on his hips, the crack across his body flickering “It’s like telling a joke and the person not laughing because they’re too dense to get the punchline! Why go on stage for a bunch of idiots who won’t appreciate the performance?” 

“Is that what this all is to you? A performance?” They made a mark on their clipboard. Bill noticed. His eye widened, his expression becoming wild. 

“Oho! I know what this is! You think you’re so slick- but you can’t fool me!” His features became more jagged and uneven, the crack across his body flickering again, bright blue sparks emitting with feverish intensity. 

“What do you mean?” The therapist asked before being cut off by the paranoid polygon

“You think that I’m putting on some act, don’t you? That this is a cover to something deeper about me- that if you keep asking me asinine questions I’ll crack and expose some other level to me!  Well give it up! I’m not faking anything! I might trick humans and tell them what they want to hear, but I’ve got nothing to hide here!” His scream was shrill and distorted now “You think you can trick me by getting me to talk and tell you my weaknesses- just like those Pines’ did- well I’m no chump! I don’t have any weaknesses! They just got lucky- But luck runs out!”

“One day I'll get out of here- and when I do I'll show everyone how wrong they were!” He scowled, and looked at his hands as he spoke. “You all think you can change my mind and rip up those party invites but I've got news for you- you don't get a choice! It'll be a never ending soul siesta Fiesta!” 

He broke out into a manic, building laughter.

“It doesn't sound like you have much respect for what you deem as lower life forms,” The therapist said flatly, looking at the chart as if taking in some of the material with marginal interest. “You made a chair out of humans.”

Bill turned back to the therapist and rolled his singular eye before laying back in the chair lazily.

“Hey! A guy has to have a place to sit, right? And a throne made of people is the perfect centerpiece to command respect! It also serves as a great conversation starter- you try having a compelling conversation about your Chesterfield chair and see how far you get,” He sat himself up straight and closed his eye smugly “meanwhile I get to tell you all the hot Goss about Lazy Susan- and that's saying something since that chick literally disassociates and thinks about PIE all day.”

The therapist set the clipboard back in their lap and looked at him, he could feel their stare on him- he just wasn’t sure WHERE their eyes were...

“That doesn't sound like liberation, that sounds like subjugation.” They said, matter of fact “Are they not worthy of the party?” 

“Sure they are! They're the chair! What about that are you not getting?” 

“Do you enjoy deflecting and making a joke out of everything that has happened?” 

Bill looked at his hand, trying to lessen the discomfort he had with their gaze and tried his best to appear unbothered.

“What can I say, I'm a silly little guy! It's not my fault that most folks lack a sense of humor and can't appreciate my japes. Like most things, people take it all too seriously... life is a joke and you're the punchline, so you better start learning to laugh!”

The therapist leaned forward in interest, at least that’s what Bill thinks it was...

“Does that include yourself?” 

“Well I'm the one making the jokes- aren't I?”

“But are you a punchline?”

“I'm a triangle, Jack. Try to keep up.” 

They were silent, and Bill internally felt this was a win. Take that you pompous know it all! Once again my quick wit reigns supreme!

But just as he had thought the session was over, they looked back at his chart and took out their pen again before continuing their line of questions...  

“Speaking of triangles, I noticed that the majority of your drawings were red and blue triangles... Can you tell me about that?” 

He stiffened but managed to rebound quickly

“Well I'm not one to teach folks their colors and shapes- usually they understand those out the gate but if you need me to walk you through things, I guess I'll relent! So red is a color-”

The therapist, for the first time, was quick to cut him off and keep with their onslaught of inquiries. 

“Are they someone you knew? Maybe your parents?” 

Bill's face grew dark

“Do you draw them because you miss them?” 

The Therapist was met with another raging tantrum, this one more distorted, his crack flickering wildly as he looked pained, angry, embarrassed, and threatening. 

“I DON'T MISS ANYONE!” Why would he? They don’t miss him! Emotional connections were a weakness, and Bill was not WEAK.

“I DON'T NEED ANYONE!” HE didn’t. HE DIDN’T! Everyone has always let him down. Pathetic weak willed and weak minded- he only needed himself.

It was because of these irrefutable facts that he wasn’t all that surprised when his outburst, which was lunging at the therapist and trying to bite any possible limb he could grab, landed him in the Wellness Void. Ah the Wellness Void. 

He hated the Wellness Void. 

The void offered him little else but time to plan, but Bill was less of a “master planner” and more of a “It’ll all work out because I said it will, don’t ask questions.” sort of guy. That confidence got him a following, after all! If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it! And who was broken? Not him, that’s for sure! That blue crack across his body was just a scar- scars were cool. They made you look tough. It was less of a residual fragment of him being shattered and scattered across existence by Stanley Pines’s fist and more… A statement!

It was unfortunate for Bill that the statement was: “Ow I got punched in the FACE!” 

Bill took a moment to reflect, not on his actions or anything of that nature, (why would he? He was perfect and had never done anything wrong in his entire life.)  But on something far more pressing: why the internal narration and dialogue suddenly took a more biting, cheeky, and critical tone towards him. He was the main character after all, shouldn't the narration and perspective of the writer be more favorable?

"ALRIGHT ASSHOLE SHOW YOURSELF. I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE!"

It was an odd request to pose, after all he was the all seeing eye wasn't he? If there was someone there, surely he could see them. 

"We're in a void, Jackass! What's there to see?!"

The permissive polygon made a fair point. But who's to say he wasn't losing his marbles? 

"Little late for that, buck-o! I'm insane! And if you haven't already noticed: we're in a nut house!"

Ah yes… Insanity. Perhaps that was why Bill had a habit of repeating history and doing the same thing over and over-

"Watch it!"

-But maybe if he had alternative options, different opportunities available, things would change for him...

"Eh? What the-"

Bill was suddenly surrounded by a blinding light, then seated across from a monochrome being, Three bright blue eyes with the hands of clocks held within looked upon him with rapt glee, a large smile stretched across nebulous features. 

"Maybe it’s time someone offered YOU a deal."

[twitterpated-passion]

Wrong Turn | Monster Girlfriend

You didn’t know what you were doing, walking through the forest alone. You could barely make your way through the city, yet you decided to walk through the woods to get to your family’s cottage. You should’ve just brought your carriage with you. Or at least a horse. Your feet were killing you.

You weren’t stopping to camp for the night, no, so you walked, and walked, and walked. And you found a glimpse of humanity. It wasn’t your family’s cottage though. It was an Orc tribe.

You were both severely lost and hopefully not as screwed as you felt.

{--}

The moon was high, but the tribe was lively, the loud laughter and talking obvious. And you were standing on the outside of it, worried about asking for a spot to stay for the night. You knew you needed to do it, it’d be easier walking when it was sunny out, and all you needed was a single night before bidding them ado and never seeing them again. But as you took a step, you saw a pair near the bonfire that sat in the middle of where the huts were.

It was an Orc with a Human, his arms wrapped around them as they sat on his leg, laughing and chatting with the rest of the Orcs that were there. You walked closer towards the bonfire, towards where it seemed that most of the tribe was sitting, but you accidentally broke a stick and the woman beside the Human and the Orc seemed to hear it despite the loud talking around her, and her head snapped over towards you, eyes widening a little when she saw you.

Once she saw you, the rest did, and the tribe got eerily quiet. Realizing that none of them were going to walk to you, you walked over to them, clearing your throat and fidgeting with your clothes before lifting your hand to wave. “Uh- hi? I don’t mean to intrude, but…if anyone knows an inn or something…I need a place to stay for the night…I’m willing to pay.”

Even after you spoke, it was quiet for a while, and you felt like you should’ve just kept on walking. But the woman who saw you first stood and looked you up and down, cocking a brow as she walked up to you. You had to tilt your head up to look at her fully, noticing a multitude of scars littering her exposed arms and one across her nose. Your eyes met hers, a dark brown, only lit by the moonlight. Her arms crossed and with a final beat of silence, she spoke. “You can sleep in the meeting hall for tonight.”

You let out a breath as relief flooded your system, a glimpse of a smile touching your lips as you nodded. “Thank you.”

She nodded once and moved to the side, a hand touching your shoulder as you started walking. “Last building on the right.”

Her voice was raspy, but not deep. It was something you expected to come out of a woman that looked like her. You don’t say anything else however, nodding again before beginning your walk to the meeting hall. It wasn’t that hard to find, given that after the bonfire area in the middle of the tribe every building was in two straight lines across from each other.

You got into the building, trying your best to look around the dark area, the windows lining some of the walls not catching much of the moonlight. With a squint, you made your way through, stepping cautiously until you found a wooden bench. You grimaced at the thought of how your body’ll be in the morning, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and you set your things against the side of it and sat on the bench, giving your feet a well needed break from walking.

Right as you shrugged your coat off to use as a makeshift blanket, you heard footsteps coming towards the building, one of the doors opening shortly after. You glanced over, noticing the woman from earlier, holding a blanket, and a pillow in one arm while her free hand held a lantern. She silently walked over, putting the blanket and the pillow down before taking a couple steps back. “There.”

“Thank you,” you said, and before she could leave, you leaned towards one of your bags, pulling out a small coin bag to make truth out of your initial request to stay. You grabbed a few coins, and you looked up at her to hand them to her, but she held up her now free hand, shaking her head.

“Don’t, the chief and his chiefess aren’t charging you for sleeping on a bench in a cold building,” she said, and you hesitated. Part of you was relieved that you got to keep some of the coin you brought with you, but another part of you felt like you were pushing the kindness you were already given.

“Are you sure?” You asked, and she nodded, watching as you let the coin fall back into the bag you took them from. You put the coin bag back where you grabbed it and you looked over at the blanket and pillow again, slowly grabbing the pillow, setting it to the side and then the heavier blanket. “Thank you…again.”

“It’s fine,” she said, letting silence blanket over the two of you for a moment longer before she patted your shoulder, turned and walked out of the building, leaving you alone in the darkness.

You settled on the bench, wrapping your coat around your body again and then settling under the blanket. While the bench was hard, the blanket and the pillow lessened the inevitable side pain you were going to have in the morning, and you were always grateful for that.

Exhaustion started to seep into your body soon after you got fully settled, your eyelids getting heavy until they eventually closed and you were finally asleep for the night.

{--}

You woke up to a loud knock on the door, the sound echoing through the building, responding to the noise with a groan, slowly opening your eyes as the door opened and the smell of food wafted through the area. Your stomach growled as you sat up, rubbing your eyes and stretching, hearing your sore body pop and crack as you yawned.

You looked to the side, groggy eyes seeing the woman from before standing near the bench you turned into your bed. She looked down at you silently before handing you the bowl she was holding. “Here.”

Slowly grabbing the bowl, you gave her a tired, yet thankful smile, holding the warm wood close to you and beginning to eat soon after. The Orc woman sat on the bench you made into a makeshift bed, not beside you, but close enough that she wasn’t trying to put obvious distance between you two. You looked over at her midbite, feeling her gaze burning two holes into you. You finished the bite you took and parted your lips to speak, but she spoke before you could, “Aloka.”

Your brows furrowed, but she cleared it up. “My name’s Aloka.”

“Oh,” you said, and through your exhaustion fogged brain, you responded with your own name, only to turn back to the food to take another bite.

The two of you were quiet again, and to say it was awkward would be downplaying it. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t enjoyable to sit in, even if you were five seconds from falling asleep again. Thankfully, Aloka managed to break it, “The chief and chiefess are allowing you to stay longer if you’d like. We would find a room for you if yes.”

“...I appreciate it, but I only needed to stay the night. I could hardly see in front of me and I need to find my family’s cottage,” you said, hearing her hum a couple seconds after you stopped speaking.

“Do you not know where it is?” She asked, and you nodded, taking another bite.

“I do…but normally I take a carriage to get there,” you said after you swallowed that bite. “I decided to walk this time…even though part of me was calling it stupid before I left…it got dark before I could get there so I took a few wrong turns.”

Aloka nodded, slightly lifting an eyebrow at your explanation. “If you thought it was stupid…why do it?”

You shrugged, taking another bite before sighing as you eat for a moment. “I convinced myself right before I left that it would be fine…”

“So still stupidity,” she said after you trailed off, eyes watching you eat the rest of your food. “You’re lucky you found us.”

You nodded, wiping your mouth and setting the bowl beside you. “I am,” you confirmed.

She looked from you, to the bowl, standing to grab it. “Leave the blanket and pillow here…someone will get it later today.”

Your gaze, still slightly tired but getting more awake by the second, watched her and you nodded again. “Alright…but, just a quick question…there’s a lake in this forest…are you-…do you think you know the direction of it?”

Aloka stopped herself midstep, glancing down at you before she placed her free hand on the top of her hip. “If your cottage is close to the lake, you went the exact opposite way to get there…you’re two days from it.”

Your heart sunk and the heat in your face disappeared instantly, the chill of the non-heated meeting hall getting to you. “...Two…days?”

She nodded again and offered you the first bout of emotion you saw from her, which looked to be pity, if your tired mind read it correctly. “That’s right…”

With a breath, you ran your hand down your face, a groan leaving your lips, murmuring, “Shit…”

“...I take it you’ll be staying longer than you thought,” Aloka said.

“I suppose I am,” you breathed out, looking back up at her. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s…it’s nothing. We’re already collecting Humans, with my brother’s partner being a part of the tribe.” Your eyebrow lifted, remembering the obvious couple from the night before, slightly surprised to learn that she was related to the Orc. “You’ll have a place to stay for however long you plan on staying.”

“Thank you,” you said, those two words seeming to be your favorite at that moment. She nodded in response, and walked out a few seconds after the conversation died.

You leaned against the bench when you heard the door shut, laying back on the pillow and pulling the blanket over your body. You weren’t the best at talking and you were sure it was more than obvious to her, which made for an awkward relationship going forward…but you got the feeling that she was kind.

And the idea of making a new friend gave you the smallest silver lining the situation could have.

{--}

You settled into the chief and chiefess’ hut, since they were the only one with the extra space they were willing to give to you for an indefinite amount of time. You pushed your bags against the end of the bed they set up for you and grimaced at the amount of times you had said any form of ‘thank you’ towards them. At least your parents would be proud of your manners if they heard about this- when they heard about this.

Grateful to have a bed for the time being, you had to force yourself from laying down and falling asleep for the rest of the day. To rest your sore side and your still hurt feet, dreading the walking you have to do for the rest of the day. You put your boots to the side of the bed, fixing the wrinkled clothes you changed into earlier that morning, sighing and falling back on the bed.

You wondered what your parents were thinking, if they were worried or if they thought you were already at the cottage. They tried to get you to go in a carriage, and you cursed yourself from not agreeing to it, but you couldn’t change the past, and so there you were for a few days, abusing people’s kindness and giving them another mouth to feed.

You heard a knock on the door, and it opened slightly before you could respond, the low voice of the chiefess filling the air. “Can I come in?”

“Yea,” you responded, sitting up and moving to the side, watching her open the door and enter, shutting the heavy wooden door behind herself. “Do you need something, chiefess?”

“Just call me Lufi,” she started, giving you a little smile before walking over to you and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you settling in well? I know everything must be much bigger to you.”

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s comfortable…I appreciate you two housing me.”

“It’s what we do,” she said. “Aloka said you were meaning to go the opposite direction.”

You nodded to her words, a small sigh leaving your lips. “Yea, I thought I was going the wrong way, but I must’ve taken a wrong turn when it was dark.”

She nodded back at you. “Would you like an escort, or are you simply going to walk home when you feel comfortable enough to do so?”

“I’ll probably just go home…I was only planning on staying for a week or so anyway,” you said, wondering why you felt so much more comfortable talking to the Orcs that you’ve only just met compared to people you’ve known pretty much your entire life back in the city. “Thank you for the offer though.”

There you go again. She breathed out a laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t thank me, it’s nothing. If anything, Anoal and I would send Aloka, she seems to enjoy your presence. We haven’t seen her warm up to a stranger as fast since Cortek, her brother, had her meet his partner.”

Your heart picked up at the thought of her warming up to you faster than normal. “Yea? I’m not sure what I did to do anything like that other than ask for some shelter.”

Lufi shrugged. “She’s been better since Cortek’s partner joined the tribe…maybe she’s just warming up to your kind. None of us has been treated all that well by most people of different races.”

You nodded, a little solemnly. “Humans kinda suck,” you said, flashing her a small smile.

“Most of them,” she agreed. “But there’s always exceptions, aren’t there?”

“Yea,” you said, “there are.”

{--}

You walked down to the bonfire now roaring in the middle of the tribe area, finding one of the hunts roasting over it and sitting in the open spot beside Aloka. Flashing her a little smile, she returned it to the best of her ability, and your cheeks heated up ever-so-slightly at the sight, liking the way the flames lit up her face.

It’s been a few days since you arrived in the tribe, and despite the lingering fact that you have to go back home, your clean clothes slowly dwindling with each day, but Lufi was right, and every chance you had outside, you were with Aloka, either helping her with her daily chores, eating with her or simply spending your time with her. And you hated to admit it, but you felt more comfortable there than you’ve ever been in the city. You didn’t have to hold a front for the status you had, hell, you doubted people actually could tell your parents were noble because you weren’t packing to wear fancy clothes all week.

Aloka’s hand brushing your leg made you tense, and you snapped out of your thoughts, looking back up at her, meeting her brown eyes. “Do you need something, Aloka?”

She shook her head, but when her hand moved to sit on your thigh, you knew there was something she wasn’t saying, especially when she couldn’t meet your eyes and instead decided to talk to her brother and his partner.

Your brows furrowed, but you took it in stride, putting your hand on hers and watching the fire as it crackled and popped. A smile appeared on your face at the chatter everyone was doing and when you felt Aloka’s hand tighten her grip on your thigh. You leaned against her, not meaning anything by it, but you felt her arm tense before relaxing and she moved her arm, wrapping it around your smaller body before resting on your other thigh, keeping you steady and warm all at the same time.

The air between the two of you seemed to change slightly, seeming like it was thicker, but for a reason you weren’t completely sure of. You felt safe though, in a way that seemed completely friendly and platonic.

Totally.

{--}

Sunlight poured into the room, and you groaned a little as you stirred awake, turning to the side, but hitting something soft and yet hard at the same time, another noise leaving you. You pushed up, rubbing your eyes as you felt chilled air touch your skin. When you cracked your eyes open, looking to your right side to see what you hit, only to realize that this wasn’t your bed, or your room…

When you look beside you, you’re met with a back, a green back and a full head of black hair, unbraided and undone, messily laying on the pillow. You pressed your lips together, eyes widening a bit at the sight of Aloka beside you, breathing steadily, and just as bare as you were at that very moment.

You looked around the room, seeing your clothes and hers littered on the floor, a breath leaving you. You felt awkward waiting until she woke up, but you also felt awful at the idea of putting your clothes on and leaving like you were running away from what had happened the night before, so you slowly slipped out of bed, put on your underwear and shirt, slipping out of her room, but making your way into the kitchen, hoping you have enough time to find some food and not make it seem like you were stealing her food.

However, you weren’t so lucky that time, hearing her heavy footsteps come down the steps and then your name being called by her groggy voice. Walking out with a small slice of bread in your hand, you see her look down at you, tired brown eyes processing that you were still there before she smiled at you slightly. “You stayed.”

“I wasn’t gonna walk out with just my shirt on,” you said, noticing her robe that was tied tightly around her waist. “Sleep well?”

She nodded, running her fingers through the mess that was her bedhead. You, however, couldn’t help but admire it. Comfortable silence fell between the two of you and you stepped back to let her in the kitchen, watching her get a drink before leaning against the counter. “Did you enjoy last night?”

The question threw you off guard, but you managed to nod. Admittedly, you did enjoy the night before, just not the consequences of it…like having to talk about whether you were still friends or not.

A warm finger touched your forehead, bringing your attention back on her. “What’re you thinking?”

“...Are we still friends?” She cocked an eyebrow, finishing her drink and setting the cup on the counter space beside her.

“Do you often spend your nights being intimate with your friends?” Aloka asked you back.

Your face warmed and you shook your head, and you watched another smile -which was more of a smirk at this point- grace her features. “Then I guess we’re not.”

Feeling your heartbeat pick up, you bit your lip. “Then- then what are we?”

“Whatever you want to be,” she said, her tone softening. “I know you’re leaving in a few days…so…”

“Is it wrong of me to not know what I want?” You asked. “I want you in my life…that I know…but…we’ll barely see each other. I just…I don’t want either of us to feel like we’re being held back.”

“Do you remember how you got here?” She asked, and you nodded. “Then come visit…we’ll figure it out. Besides, we still have a few days, and even though you’re already making me soft around my edges- thanks for that- I want you to come back. Alright?”

You nodded again. “Right…” You took a breath, and leaned into her hand when she cupped your cheek. It was a sight to see, seeing how close the two of you got in only a few days. You knew it was natural not to know what you wanted with a person that you’ve only known for a few days, but you felt bad that a happy ending wasn’t in the near future.

But with time, you hoped and put your faith into fate, hoping that it might be into both of your futures someday. For now though? For now you were fine not knowing. As long as you had her in your life.

[p-artsypants]

Blurb #62

I'm going to try to share 70 blurbs from my WIPs and unfinished fics to celebrate reaching 70 posted fics! To help with this endeavor, please feel free to send me a word or a fandom you know I write for, and I'll share the blurb. IDK if I'll get 70 prompts, but let's try it! Send as many as you want!

Near noon the next day, Astrid went over to Gobber’s shop. 

He seemed somewhat surprised to see her there. “Astrid? Uh…how can I help you, lass? Are you here to pick something up for ye mum?” 

“I would like two pounds of stew beef, please.” 

“‘A course. It’ll take me a moment to cut that up. But I’ll have it all ready for you if ya want ta come back later.” 

Astrid frowned. “But can I not just wait here?” 

“Sure,” he chuckled. “But the Rider will be here any moment.” 

“So?” She crossed her arms. “He can wait his turn.” 

Gobber barked a loud laugh and wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh that’s a good one. He’d love to hear that! Nothing says ‘part of the village’ like having to wait yer turn at the shops, eh?” 

The telltale shush fell over the village from outside, and Astrid heard the caws of several ravens. Goosebumps raised on her flesh, and she started shaking, but she refused to leave. 

“This’ll be interestin’…” Gobber said darkly, a little grin on his face. 

The clack of horse hooves outside told her all she needed to know. She had but a few seconds to dart out the back now. 

But no, she was determined to see this through. 

The Rider bowed, entering the little shop, before raising up to his full height. He was even more terrifying close up. His black cloak almost seemed to emit smoke. 

His horse sniffed her, embers flying out its nose. 

Astrid stood still, petrified, and unmoving as two sets of acid green eyes stared at her. 

Gobber cut the tension with a razor sharp knife. “Afternoon lad! What can I do for you today?” 

The Rider whipped his gaze back to Gobber, silent for a moment. Then he dismounted his horse. 

He was still tall. Maybe two feet taller than her. But he was thin and gangly. He leaned to one side, and Astrid could now see that he only had one leg. One side wore greaves made of a dark metal, while the other leg was made of twisted black wood. 

Once off, the horse walked past her, leisurely making its way to the back pen, and snacking on grass. 

Astrid only now noticed the singed spots of grass out there, as the grass smoldered under the horses hooves. 

The Rider just stood there, not saying a thing, but staring at her. 

“Well lass, guess I’ll get that beef cut for you,” said Gobber. “You’ll have to wait, Rider. She’s ahead of you in line!” He laughed. 

Astrid swallowed hard, and then raised her hand to the apparition. “Hello, I’m Astrid Hofferson,” she spoke, perhaps louder than intended. But her voice trembled mightily. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

The Rider tilted his head, then looked down at her hand. 

“Ohhh,” said Gobber. 

“What?” Astrid panicked. “Should I not have offered to shake his hand?” 

Before she could change her mind, fingers as cold as ice wrapped around her hand and squeezed. She looked down, searing the image into her mind. His hands were dark gray and shiny, like they were covered in graphite, and then slowly turned dark blue down at his fingertips. His nails were long, black, and pointed, almost like claws. He squeezed, sending a ripple of tingling energy up her arm. 

“You…” he spoke, his voice deep and gravelly, like it hadn’t been used in years. But there was a nasally quality that threw her off. Almost made him sound more human. “...are not afraid of me?” 

Oh she was. She was a hair away from crying, but she just smiled back and said, “should I be?” 

He shook his head. 

A wave of relief went through her as she sighed.

“At least,” he added. “Not now.” Then he released her hand.

[alice-after-dark]

The Red King and the Unicorn - Homecoming

Heavily inspired by The Last Unicorn, Howl's Moving Castle, and Beauty and the Beast.

Guys wake up, @hiemaldesirae dropped epic art and I got hella inspired to write more for this AU

Vox doesn't remember falling asleep. He doesn't remember leaving the carnival and he definitely doesn't remember arriving at this lovely little house.

His sits up slowly. The room is nice and well furnished and there is a neatly folded pile of clothing resting on the end of the bed. Vox has never been human before, but the clothes are easy enough to figure out...with a little bit of trial and error.

He grips the railing to the stairs as he makes his way down. It's bad enough that he's never walked upright on two legs before, but it's only made worse by how atrophied - how weak - his body has become from being confined to that small cage for so many years. It feels inevitable when he loses his balance and starts to fall. An arm closes around his waist.

"Easy there, kid."

The manticore helps him to a seat at the table. The downstairs is simply one large room with the kitchen, dining area, and sitting room all set to different corners. It feels...cozy. The cat creature is lighting a fire on the stove and sets about grabbing food from the icebox.

"Bacon and eggs sound good to you? I don't really know what you guys eat."

"What's bacon?"

"Meat."

"Oh. That's fine. Thank you."

The manticore blinks. "So you guys really are carnivors. Thought that was just a rumor."

Vox shrugs. "Some are, some aren't. We don't need it to survive, if that's what you mean."

"Huh. Good to know."

The cat - Husk!, Vox remembers. His name is Husk! - grabs a cast iron pan and soon the house is filled with the wonderful smell of cooking food. Husk hums to himself as he cooks and Vox lets his gaze wander around the room. There's a small side door just off the kitchen and what he assumes is the front door is situated closer to the sitting room. Outside, he can hear the bustling of life. They must be in a town.

Husk opens the side door. "Hey, Niff! Give the laundry a break and come eat before it gets cold!"

He holds the door open as a young goblin girl bounces into the room, scrambling into a seat at the table with several books stacked on it. Her single eye locks onto Vox.

"Ooh! The pretty horse is awake!"

Vox blushes. "Mm not a horse..." he mumbles.

"Be gentle with the guy, Niff," Husk says, placing a plate of the promised food in front of the tiny woman. "He's had a rough time of it."

If Niffty hears him, she doesn't show it, already tearing into her eggs with gusto. Husk shakes his head but he's smiling and he puts another plate before Vox. The unicorn mumbles a soft "thank you" and the manticore returns to the stove to finish plating his own food.

When Husk covers a fourth plate and sets it aside, Niffty stops eating to frown. "Is Alastor not joining us?" she asks. She glances forlornly at the empty seat at the head of the table.

Husk shakes his head as he joins them. "Nah, sorry, Niff. The boss is out running some errands. Said he'd be back before noon though and he promised he'd cook dinner cause he knew you'd be disappointed."

The woman instantly brightens. "Yay! It's been a while since he cooked!"

Husk only nods in agreement.

Vox stares at them. To hear these two address the Red King so casually...it feels surreal. He'd been expected to join them for breakfast and now apparently he'd be cooking for them, specifically to appease the little one. It's too strange and too removed from everything Vox knows of the Red King to make any sense.

"Everything good, kid? You're looking a little lost."

Vox jolts back to attention, noting both Husk and Niffty staring at him. He flusters.

"I-fine, I'm fine." He tries to grab the pronged thing next to his plate like the other two are doing, but his grip falters and it clatters back to the table.

"Oh!"

Niffty leans across the table, her tiny hands curling his fingers around the piece of metal. "There you go!" She sits back in her own seat and shows him how to use the edge to cut into his eggs. Husk seems to have predicted his struggle as Vox notes his bacon is already cut up into smaller bites. Considering how awkward his handling of the (fork, Niffty calls it) is, it's probably best he not use a knife just yet.

Unfortunately, Vox knows all too well what those are. He resists the urge to touch the scar over his left eye as it tingles with phantom pain and remembrance. He distracts himself with his food instead.

Husk is a very good cook and once they've cleared their plates, Niffty returns to the laundry while Vox helps Husk with the dishes. When the last of them have been dried and put away, the manticore helps him to one of the couches in the sitting room before wandering away to tend to something else. Curiosity overtakes him and Vox pushes the curtain aside to stare out the window.

The streets are alive with people and carriages and chatter. Vox has never been in a town properly before. He's hung on the outskirts, watched them from afar, but he's never entered one. It was too dangerous...not that it mattered in the end.

The front door opens suddenly and Vox starts as the Red King sweeps inside, trails of shadows around his legs. He looks different again, more human than he had on the night Vox was rescued, but still distinctly...not. Confusion hits him. From his vantage point by the window, he has full view of the door. How had the Red King approached without Vox seeing him?

His thoughts are interrupted.

"Ah! You're awake!" The Red King taps the end of his staff against the floor. "Lovely! You gave us all quite the fright when you fainted like that!"

Vox remembers now. The rush of dark power. The swirling shadows. The unforgiving pressure coming at him from every angle. The Red King had used his magic to move them and Vox had fainted during the travel.

"My apologies," the abyssal being continues. "I should have expected you to be vulnerable to such things, given your captivity. No matter. We'll build up your resistance yet."

He crosses the room and takes the covered plate from the counter before settling into the one chair that had remained empty during their meal. He uncovers the food, still steaming and piping hot as though freshly pulled from the pan, and tucks in. Husk enters not long after and the two strike up a conversation as to the details of the Red King's outing. It's...startlingly domestic and Vox finds himself even futher confused. And one question plagues him more than anything.

Why am I here?

[prythiansfavoritefox]

[ STUN ] 🍃 Tamlin 🍃

Tamlin sat by the horse stables, head in his hands. He had not been able to focus for the past month. His best friend and emissary, Lucien, had been gone for far too long. He had recently lost his eye, and the damage was so severe, compounded with Tamlin's loss of power, that he had been unable to restore the eye. Guilt had been his only companion these long, lonely weeks, as Lucien sought out allies in Dawn while also seeking an eye replacement.

It was all his fault. He should've never let Lucien try to contact Amarantha. The blood...Tamlin had vomited at the sight. He had no idea how Lucien had even survived. Tamlin had poured every last bit of his healing magic into him, and other healers had come to help as well. His own nose bled out and he passed out not long afterwards, but he was not about to let Lucien die.

When he'd heard how Lucien had gotten his wound, Tamlin had wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. "For someone so smart, you can be so stupid sometimes," Tamlin had said. Lucien had merely snorted. "Like you're much better? You spat in her face and told her you'd sooner marry a human than her."

Tamlin had difficulty arguing with that logic. "Then I guess we are both intelligent fools."

"Still smarter than you," Lucien had muttered.

But Tamlin knew his friend well. He'd not failed to notice the way he looked at himself in the mirror once he'd recovered. Lucien had grown up in the Autumn Court; he'd grown up taking great care to his appearance, priding himself on it. And Tamlin had taken that from him. Another thing to add to his pile of guilt, he supposed.

Just then, a long, slender hand clasped his shoulder. Tamlin whipped around, shoving the owner of the hand against a wall of the barn, pressing his knife to his throat.

He found a tall man standing there, bronze skin flushed, long red wavy hair flowing down his back and covering his face, his singular brown eye wide as Tamlin bared down on him, death in his stance.

"By the Cauldron, Tam, it's me!" Lucien protested. "Mind dropping the knife?" Tamlin then looked at the other side of his face, where Lucien had lost his eye. A metallic gold orb had taken its place, a brutal scar going from the top of his forehead all the way down to his chin remaining. He scanned his friend's face. Unharmed. His eye replaced. His sass intact.

Breathe.

Tamlin returned his knife to his side, his breathing still ragged. Lucien shoved his hair out of his face, scowling at Tamlin. "What was that for?"

"You just snuck up on me!" Tamlin protested. "I had no way of knowing who you are!"

"Come on, Tam," Lucien chastised. "Don't you know my scent by now?"

Well, he hadn't been paying attention, Tamlin thought. But somehow, something about that statement made him blush. "I-well..." He tried to avoid looking at Lucien's face, but that only meant his eyes drifted to his forearms and his powerful legs, which only made him blush harder.

"Were you zoning out again? Typical oblivious Tam," Lucien teased. "What were you even doing without me?"

"I had less time to myself for sure," Tamlin muttered. He sighed. "I missed you, Lucien."

"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said about me," Lucien drawled, leaning back against the barn wall. Tamlin glared at him. "That can't be true."

"Oh, it is. Because you're absolutely abysmal at compliments. Tell me Tam, what will we do if we find a human? Your flirting skills are awfully rusty."

"No, they're not!" Tamlin growled, but Lucien only chuckled. He walked up to Tamlin and pulled him into a warm hug. "I missed you too, you big oaf."

Tamlin couldn't stop smiling the rest of the day.

[florianniss]

Coin, Peace, and Quiet

RatedE, Slow Butcher Burn

With all the time they’ve spent together over the years, with everything they’ve been through, the bad and the worse, Geralt admits he hasn’t even scratched Jaskier’s surface. This is true now, perhaps more so, as the Bard blinks at him in the candlelight. As if Geralt hasn’t just made a terrifying confession that will change their relationship.

He doesn’t speak, and he doesn’t move. He pierces Geralt with those eyes for a charged moment, severely enough that the Witcher breaks contact and takes two steps back. Something other than desire is happening here. Something much, much more complicated.

It’s then that Jaskier begins to undress.

Geralt watches, transfixed, as the musician’s fingers unlace his vest. As Jaskier peels out of the leather armor and voluminous shirt. As hair-covered skin emerges with each discarded item. Slowly. Methodically. 

Torturous.

The Bard twists to drop each piece of clothing to the floor, and Geralt is held frozen by pectoral muscles that tense and shudder and shift in the shadows. By biceps that bulge and release over and over as Jaskier begins to work the ties at the front of his trousers. His own body reacts accordingly at the sight of long lashes falling over pinked cheekbones. And he draws an audible inhale as Jaskier drops the rest of his clothing around the ankles.

Jaskier is unafraid. He steps nimbly out of each pant leg by leaning back against the door. The slight arch in his spine forces his pelvis forward, causes his long, limp cock to stir against the nest of curly dark hair at his loins. Naked, he’s part hard muscle and soft flesh, sturdy and strong and yet only marginally less breakable than a female. But Geralt knows it’s the emotional injuries that do the most damage.

He must be careful.

It’s this fear that immobilizes the Witcher as Jaskier pushes away from the door and begins his approach. That cocky assuredness is there, sure. But there’s something else. Something wounded and head-shy. Like a horse that’s been beaten three masters ago and still doesn’t trust the current one.

Jaskier moves carefully, shifting sideways as he comes within inches of Geralt where he stands. Eyes assessing, the Bard trails the very tips of the fingers on one hand over Geralt’s bare forearm. But Jaskier doesn’t stop as expected. Instead, he passes within a hair’s breadth, headed for the thick furs that lie on Geralt’s bed.

The Witcher gets a good, long, greedy look at the shape of the man’s ass as he kneels, then rolls, then positions himself on his back. 

He makes quite a stunning picture.

Geralt is obviously aroused; his stench fills the room and almost drowns out Jaskier’s bitter-sweetness. And the longer he stands here, eyeing the sprawled length of the man, the worse it’s going to get. Even a human such as this Bard would be able to smell how much the Witcher wants.

A frown breaks Jaskier’s confidence, and he opens and closes his mouth twice, as if he’s doubting his bold actions.

Geralt struggles for words. It’s extremely difficult while presented with Jaskier in such a vulnerable moment.

“Well, Witcher?” the Bard says as he raises a hand to take hold of his own cock. “I realize your vocabulary is limited, but can you say something?”

Geralt, speechless, feels a twist behind his navel as Jaskier jacks himself, squeezing hard and dragging a thumb over the center vein, pausing to tease just below the head. A seductress would be less tempting.

The Witcher shucks out of his shirt one-handed and quickly, unwilling to break eye contact for any length of time. Jaskier appears to feel the same. Blue eyes bore into Geralt’s as he divests himself of the rest of his things. Mostly erect and painfully so, he gets to enjoy the Bard’s audible swallow as his gaze is drawn southward.

Jaskier tightens up on his grip and pulls his cock away from that flat stomach. It serves as a kind of siren’s call, a ‘come hither’ that Geralt absolutely cannot resist.

The Witcher goes to him.

The man’s feet come right to the end of the old wooden frame, his head nearly touching the stone wall. Geralt straddles Jaskier’s ankles and knee-walks slowly across the furs until their thighs touch. The Witcher considers how distracting his cock must be, flushed hard and red and swinging side to side. Jaskier seems to be affected, anyway.

“Oh,” he breathes, and it’s honestly the most seductive thing Geralt has ever heard. Jaskier prattling on about something he loves brings out passionate gestures and a beautiful, excited lilt to his voice. Jaskier silent, in awe, stroking himself, is a different beast altogether.

A beast Geralt isn’t quite sure how to handle.

“Closer,” Jaskier says, almost pleadingly. He gestures with the free hand for Geralt to continue. The Witcher leans forward onto his palms, closing the distance and meeting his friend’s gaze inch for inch. Beneath him, Jaskier begins to tremble, hand continuing to move over his cock.

It’s a mind-fuck, lining his body up with Jaskier’s. Face to face, heart covering heart, naked cocks hovering so close to touching, Geralt can feel his resolve fading away. He wants very badly to touch the man.

It’s Jaskier who reaches to touch first, fingers ghosting over the point of Geralt’s shoulder. He settles in and cups the back of the Witcher’s arm. Squeezes. Closes his eyes. Whispers.

“I hate you for being so beautiful.”

This prompts Geralt to speak. “Hm. Seems a foolish reason to hate someone.”

The man’s hand drifts back to his shoulder, spreads flat over one shoulder blade, finds the point between them and pulls.

The Witcher goes down on his elbows willingly.

“Oh.”

It’s the forced exhale of air crushed under the weight of someone bigger, wider, less used to intimacy with a man. Jaskier’s chest is warm as he inhales, tensing his stomach muscles, arching upward to be able to press lips against the scruff of Geralt’s jaw. An act so tender sends a jolt of sensation straight to the Witcher’s cock. 

“Jask,” he says, affectionate and weak. The Bard is making him think thoughts better saved for private fantasies. Taking Jaskier as he wants, the way he wants, could very well injure the man. Crush his spine. Bruise his ribs. Split his asshole enough to bleed.

And yet.

“Witcher,” Jaskier says into the hollow of Geralt’s cheek. “You’re not afraid to touch me, are you?”

Geralt snorts a not-so-convincing laugh, and he bites his tongue lest the fear of failure falls off of it. Instead, he rocks back, pulls away from Jaskier’s mouth. Sinks into the man’s neck and scents the crook of his graceful neck.

It’s divine, the smell of him, sweaty and lusty and under cover of flowery oils. The Witcher can’t help but drag his nose up and down one side, then the other. It could be the world’s most powerful aphrodisiac, as far as Geralt is concerned.

He mouths at collarbones, licks and kisses the thin skin over both shoulders. Jaskier groans and grabs hold of the back of Geralt’s neck and guides him down the center of that lean-muscled chest.

Here he smells even stronger, as if it stems from his fucking heart. Geralt inhales and inhales and hums, doting on the lovely bulge of each pectoral muscle. Until his lips glide over a peaked nipple.

The hair circling each narrow pebble grows in whorls from outside to in. It feels soft even against the rough of the Witcher’s unshaven cheek. He discovers very quickly, as he noses a nipple, one at a time, that each is an erogenous zone that sends Jaskier arching.

Geralt latches on and suckles.

“Fuck,” the Bard hisses, hand flying to Geralt’s scalp. Long fingers tangle in the straggly mess there, tugging, urging closer, harder, more. The Witcher heeds the call and gives it to him, in duplicate.

By this time, the agonizing pang in Geralt’s gut has risen to alarming levels. His hips move of their own accord. His cock slaps eagerly against his own waistline.

Jaskier is breathing hard, shallow and rapid. All ten fingers scrabble for purchase on Geralt’s wide back. Nails scratch at the scars, igniting a different kind of pain. Mingled with the pleasure Jaskier seems to be gaining from it, the Witcher finds it only makes him hungrier.

He wants to devour this man.

Jaskier sucks in a sharp breath as Geralt slides downward and moves to the rippled plane of his abdomen. The muscles jump with attention from Geralt’s mouth. And when the Witcher’s chin bumps into the tip of Jaskier’s erection, something uncoils like a snake inside.

Geralt surges upward, dives for Jaskier’s mouth, and covers the writhing, moaning man with all of his body. Tongues slide over each other, chests heave and blood pumps to fuel their sex. The Witcher grinds down until he pins Jaskier’s cock with his own. It’s hot, and it liquifies like fire in his veins. 

He imagines Jaskier’s ejaculation, the spill of seed onto Geralt’s throbbing cock. He thrusts, first experimentally, then with purpose. With need. It’s better than the effects of any potion, any ale or wine. 

Jaskier responds beautifully. He gropes the length of the Witcher’s spine. He finds the thickness of Geralt’s waist, the swell of his ass. And he moans as he squeezes into Geralt’s open mouth.

“Yes,” he says, breathless, panting. “Grind against me until we come.”

Geralt obliges. 

He holds back, of course, moving slowly and purposefully, paying close attention to the sounds and expressions Jaskier makes. He gives up kissing the man to watch pleasure play out on his face. Messy and uncoordinated as it is, the Bard seems rapturously pleased. This, in turn, fuels Geralt’s path.

They thrust against each other for some time. Their hands explore exposed skin, mouths connect and break apart and connect again. They rest when the friction begins to burn. They fuck the space between their bellies until it’s wet with a stronger kind of arousal.

Geralt wants to taste it, wants to smear it into his skin and forever wear it as a reminder. But Jaskier is slowly growing frustrated at the start and stop of it all. And the Witcher does not wish to disappoint.

He shifts all his weight to one side, and although Jaskier protests with a silent pout, he stops as soon as Geralt spits in his hand and gathers their cocks together. 

The Witcher keeps Jaskier’s gaze, punishes his mouth, strokes the length of the man’s cock against the width of his own. And when Jaskier tenses with a guttural sound trapped in his throat, Geralt leans back to watch him come.

It’s magnificent, the feel of another cock-skin wrinkling against his. The pulses that make his stomach roil, the heady smell of cum oozing out of a pinkened slit of a hole. The urge to take it in his mouth returns, and just the thought is enough to power him to the edge. He’s never eaten a man before. Never wanted to —

Until Jaskier. 

Geralt is going to come with that blessed name on his lips. Jaskier watches the space between them, cheeks colored and eyes glassy with bliss. He whispers something unintelligible, then offers a little encouragement.

“Gods, that monster cock. Can’t believe it’s mine.”

The Witcher shifts closer, strokes harder, nears the summit.

“I could write dozens of songs about the spread of those massive thighs.”

Jaskier slips both hands below Geralt’s ass and squeezes, lifts and grunts as he does so. A finger slips over the Witcher’s hole. It’s bold and surprising, something he’s only ever done to himself. The Bard, sensing the impending orgasm, does it again.

“Fuck, Jaskier,” he growls as the pleasure climbs up the back of his throat. He shouts as it blooms hot and heavy in his stomach, then spills onto the flaccid beauty that is Jaskier’s cock.

The Bard makes another climaxing sound, as if he’s sharing Geralt’s orgasm. It continues, only softer, as the Witcher wobbles a little, allowing himself to go down into the furs next to his lover. The mingling of their seed, pungent and raw and covering Geralt’s head, is wiped over his chest. His groin. He cock.

Jaskier rolls to meet him. His breath is hot, his eyes aflame. He gathers Geralt into an all-body embrace. His nose pokes under the Witcher’s ear. It sends a tingling sensation down the sides of his neck.

The aftermath of sex is something Geralt has never had any use for. He comes, and then he goes. The job is finished. Release accomplished. Except twice now, with two different people, he’s felt an anxious tug to his heart. He knows it will end, but he doesn’t want it to.

“You’re magnificent,” Jaskier whispers as he continues to breathe heavily against Geralt’s chest. He’s somehow wedged one thigh between the both of Geralt’s. “A prayer to the Gods,” he says, eyes half-closed, body limp. “I would gladly pay this twenty-year price again. Just to be able to experience that. With you.”

It’s a blow to the balls, and Geralt feels the swoop of regret. He opens his mouth and blurts out:

“The djinn.”

Jaskier tenses against him, stops running fingers gently over the mass of sweaty fur on Geralt’s chest.

The Witcher tries to explain. “I told Yen to heal you, whatever the price.”

This sets Jaskier to thinking. He frowns and purses his lips. “And how much did she charge?”

Geralt has known for a long time that he and Yen were bound together by that third wish. But he also knows that, if it weren’t for his own stupid selfishness, Jaskier would never have been cursed. It's his fault, all of it, over and over again.

Jaskier answers his own question. “You traded yourself to save me.”

It’s not untrue, and when it’s said that way, it doesn’t sound quite so devastating. Jaskier seems to be accepting of that much, at least.

The Bard looks at him for a long, long moment. Then he ducks his head and swoops in to lick at the spunk on Geralt’s skin.

Something snaps in the Witcher’s head. The memory of that horrible, wonderful day is taken over by the fact that Jaskier has always, always been on his side.

Geralt pets the smooth curve of Jaskier’s head, having come to a decision. The Bard moans as he laves with his tongue, then lifts his head and seeks out Geralt’s mouth.

The kiss is a foul bitterness on the Witcher’s sensitive tongue. But the act outweighs the taste, and Geralt is suddenly hungry once more.

When Jaskier breaks away from their reheated kiss, his eyes dance with mischief.

“So what you’re saying, which is extremely romantic, by the way, is that I owe you my life.”

The Witcher thinks about this. He smells a loophole. “Hm.”

Jaskier smiles, draws with one finger down the side of Geralt’s face.

“Well, then. Since you agree so fluently. I guess this means I’ll just have to warm your bed for the next twenty years. To thank you for your sacrifice.”

Read on AO3

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

Hello, dears! This fic was written for my dear friend @loveinthekeyofx! Alcina with a curvy stable worker 👀 There lots of gay panic, thigh riding and mold horses! It's fairly long so most will go under a cut, but I do hope some of you will enjoy it! ❤️

TW: Body issues, references to bullying.

***

You wiped the sweat from your brow, the last barrel of hay finally loaded into it's trough after a long day of work. You looked up to find dark eyes staring out at you from the back of the stable. 

"Come on, Spider. You gotta eat." 

You always found it rather endearing that the youngest of the Lady's daughters had insisted on naming each of the horses based on their personalities. Spider, for instance, was black, had spindly legs and preferred her days spent in solitude. Though, on occasion, she would allow Daniela, and only Daniela, to ride her. 

The moody creature huffed in your direction before walking over to her trough and reluctantly began to eat. 

"That's my good girl." You replied with a smile, pulling out a few sugar cubes from the pocket of your uniform. 

"You certainly have a way with them, Frances." 

The Lady's voice caught you off guard, causing you to squeak loudly and nearly drop the sugar cubes from your hand. 

"Shit! Ah- .. sorry, my lady. And th-thank you?" 

Your voice raised in a way that made your reply sound more like a question rather than a response. Alcina chuckled, her profound frame moving slowly through the large doors of the barn - one of the few entryways on the castle grounds she could enter through without ducking. 

“Due praise, dear. I’ve been watching you for quite awhile.” 

The look of surprise upon your face brought a prompt and melodic laugh to the Lady’s lips - a sound you could nearly get enough of. 

“I- .. You have??” 

“Mh.. you are rather hard to miss.” 

“Oh.” Your face reddened. Your reply was soft, eyes to the side. Hands tugging at your uniform before your arms quickly came over your chest as if to shield you. It was instinctual in nature. One taught and bred into you since you were a young child. And though you did your best not to give completely into the urge to cover your body, the Lady noticed. Immediately realizing her folly she shook her head.

“Not like that, little one.” Alcina paused before chuckling. “As if I out of all people would ever deem to comment on the size of another person.” 

You chuckled in turn, smiling a little sheepishly.  

“As it was…” She continued, “I find most  humans to be.. rather petite.” 

At this your face grew even hotter. Petite was not a word anyone had ever used to describe you. Voluptuous.. curvy.. thick - sure. Fat by your childhood bullies, and once by a friend.. but never.. petite. 

In fact, the thought alone that someone could view you as such made your mouth go a little dry. 

You swallowed hard, chuckling nervously. “You are too kind, my lady.” 

The Countess’ eyes flared as they locked onto yours - liquid embers boring into you. 

“I am nothing but honest, Frances. Why.. I could easily carry you and one of your stable mates around this entire castle several times before tiring of it.” 

You stood there for a moment - mouth agape and face on fire. The image of her carrying you around anywhere was… well.. 

<i> error 404, Frances not working</i>

“I.. that..” You paused, clearing your throat. “I have absolutely no doubts about that.” 

The Lady smirked, leaning down ever so slightly in your direction. 

“Yes, I’m sure you don’t.” 

At this you only squeaked, pulling another laugh from the large woman. 

“Adorable.” 

Every cell in your body was on the verge of a thermal meltdown, but you did your best to breathe. 

“Ahem.. ah.. may I ask you something, my lady?”

“By all means.” 

“Well.. you said you’ve been watching me?” 

“Mh.”

“I.. I mean, why?” 

The regal Countess before you stared silently for a moment before rising to her full height. 

“My dear… you wouldn’t ask someone in a museum why they're staring at a piece of art.” She paused, her finger coming to your chin. “They’re looking for one reason and one reason alone - to admire.” 

“O-oh.” You swallowed. 

Alcina chuckled. “Mh.. well, as much as I’m enjoying seeing how red I can get you.. I <i>am</i> actually here for a reason.” 

You were honestly thankful for having a moment to regain your composure, the Lady’s affect on you all too prevalent. 

“O-of course, my lady.” 

“As I said, I’ve been watching you… and  your connection to the animals on the grounds is something that was immediately apparent to me. Especially your connection with Al.”

Your eyes instantly wandered towards the stable at the far end of the barn. There was no doubt about it.. Al, or ‘Big Al’ as Dani liked to call her,.. was by far your favorite. For a couple reasons: 

1. She had to be the most beautiful Fresian you had ever laid eyes on. Hair as dark as night and eyes that glistened with intelligence. She was a truly captivating creature, and she knew it 2. Due to your larger stature - She was the only horse in the barn that you felt completely comfortable riding. You could ride her with no restraints, with absolute freedom. And some days, it honestly felt like flying. 3. She was affectionately, and much to the Countess’ dismay, named after Alcina (both for her immense size and her regal stature) and you couldn’t help but think of the Lady just a little bit whenever you looked at her. 

“I mean, Big Al is a rare case, my lady." You answered.  "She is a rather beautiful horse.” 

“Mh.. that, she is.” The Countess replied, giving you a knowing look. "But the connection is still very much there with every animal I’ve seen you interact with thus far, Frances. Which is what brings me to my proposition.” 

“Ah.. propo.. sition? My lady?”

She gave you a little smirk and clasped her hands before continuing. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about other animals being on the grounds, kept away and secret.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at the playful glint in her eyes but you nodded. That was one of the first stories most people heard when they arrived at the castle. It’s one of the reasons the staff is told to stay away from the forests that border the massive manor at night.

Or so people say, anyways…

“Well, then I’m sure you’ve also heard the rumors that those animals are dangerous - mutated. Kept as a secret weapon against the hunters or any other man-thing that may deem us harm. As a second defense, of course.” 

“I-I have.”

“Mh.. I’ll be honest with you, dear. Some of the animals we keep here, even Cassandra, wouldn't cross at night.” She paused, staring out at the tree line for a moment. “With that being said, we also house a rather extraordinary rare breed of horse here. One enhanced by the cadou. And that, my dear Frances, is where you come in." 

You looked at her awestruck for a minute, voice trembling slightly when you finally spoke.

"M-my lady? I.. I'm not quite sure I understand." 

The Lady sighed heavily, the years growing more and more visible within the deep lines of her face. 

"Some rather unfortunate circumstances have recently come up. Very suddenly leaving me without the servant who's been regularly tending to them." 

You swallowed hard, not entirely sure if you even wanted to know the answer. "Ah, may I ask what kind of circumstances?" 

The Countess stood silent for a moment, thinking. Her brow furrowed in the cutest of ways. 

"Mh.. I'd rather not get into specifics, little one, but let's just say the woman made the mistake of putting her hands on one of my daughters.. without their consent." 

"Ah." You shuddered, the mere thought of the consequences such a person would be fated to made you all too grateful that the Countess had spared you the details. 

“Mh.”

“Heh.. I’m honestly a little surprised the four of you let her leave the castle alive.” 

Alcina looked down at you, a devilish smirk curling across her lips. “I don’t recall ever saying we did.” 

You swallowed. “R-right.” 

She chuckled for a moment, shaking her head. 

“Fret not, Frances. As of now Arleen is .. well, mostly safe in the dungeons. Her fate will now reside in the hands of my daughters.” 

You nodded. “I understand, my lady.”

“Good.” 

“May.. May I ask which daughter it was?” 

“Hm.. curious thing, are we?” 

You blushed, averting your eyes. “Ah, a bit, yes.. sorry, my lady.”

The large woman’s gaze lingered over you a second before answering. 

“Cassandra.” 

“Oof.” 

A soft chuckle. 

“Indeed.” 

It was well known among the staff that the Lady’s middle daughter was the least of the three you wanted to make angry. Under any circumstance. With Daniela being the most lenient, of course. Especially if she found you particularly funny (or cute, for that matter).The Countess rose to her full height, stretching a little as she straightened her back. And the soft moan that wandered off her lips was all it took to make your mouth go a little more dry. 

“So as you can see, Frances.” She continued. “I find myself in a bit of a.. bind.” 

Gods, the way her tongue danced over her bottom lip as she said that, wettening it. A soft twinkle of heat flickering in her eyes that quickly imprinted images of plump flesh peeking through soft white rope. 

<i>A bind, yes.</i> 

You cleared your throat. “ And.. y-you want me to fill her position?” 

The Countess nodded. 

“But.. are you sure? I mean.. I’m twice the age as most of the women here-” 

“Oh? Is that all?” The Lady gave you a smirk before sighing. “Yes, I’m quite sure, Frances, and I’m not one who’s used to having her judgement questioned.” 

“S-sorry, my lady.” 

The Countess waved her hand dismissively before her large frame turned back towards the door. 

“Now.. if you would kindly follow me, dear, I'd prefer we get the introductions over with before the sun sets."

You nodded, only hesitating for a moment as the Countess quickly disappeared behind the tree line. Surely the Lady would keep you safe from whatever lurked deep within those woods, surely she wouldn't be leading you straight into your untimely death. 

Surely.. 

"Frances, do keep up the pace. I'd rather not lose another servant today." 

"Sorry, my lady!" 

The scent of wet earth surrounded you as you entered the dark Romanian forest. Sounds of a nocturnal life slowly coming to wake as the dusk of a promised night filled the cool, crisp air.  And while the sun still shone brightly on the outside of the thick tree line, you could barely see Alcina's large silhouette in front of you. The steady swish of the Countess’ dress the only thing keeping you from getting lost the further the two of you went in.

“Just about there, little one.” 

You nodded, though the Lady couldn’t see you. The insistent shiver that was slowly taking over your body only grew stronger with each step - with each strange sound that echoed through the dark forest. Like the name of a long lost lover whispered into the night. And even with the knowledge that anything that may have been watching.. or following.. was no match for the woman that accompanied you, you were still all too grateful when the warm lights of the stables finally came into view.

You let out a sigh of relief, not even aware that you'd been holding your breath practically the entire time. The Countess chuckled. 

"Mh, these woods do tend to have an effect on people." 

You chuckled in turn. "I'll say."

"Nevertheless, this was the safest place to house them. Not that these horses are necessarily dangerous, by any means, but the sight of them always seems to make the staff a little uneasy." 

You nodded, a feeling you were more familiar with than you'd care to admit. Most of the staff had never really taken to you. You were older, bigger and probably kinder to most of them than they deserved. Making you a prime target for bullying. Something you feared you might never outgrow. But how can one change their genetics? Their age? Their heart? 

You sighed and Alcina’s gaze caught yours, looking you over once before turning to open the doors of the barn. A soft crinkle to her eyes when she turned back to you. 

"As for you, Frances, something tells me that you're the perfect person to care for these animals." 

You blushed slightly at her praise - even if misguided, you thought. Surely the Lady wasn't <i>that</i> good at reading people. Though, the way she looked at you made you feel otherwise. The way she looked at you made you feel exposed - seen. As if each lingering gaze from the Countess stripped another layer from your person. Peeling back the walls with nothing more than a look. 

Being quite a bit smaller than the main stables the Lady ducked to enter and you quickly followed. The inside of the barn was much warmer than you had expected it to be, almost humid - with even the warmest of Romanian nights still bearing a slight chill to them. There were eight stables that you could count, four on each side, with only six of which were occupied. The rather prominent mustiness to the air made your nose crinkle the moment you stepped inside.. 

“I do apologize for the smell. It is a rather unfortunate side effect given the mold.” 

You shook your head. "No worries. I can take it." 

Before you had even realized the implications to your words Alcina smirked. 

"Mh.. I have no doubts." She replied with a chuckle. 

You cleared your throat and tried to swallow back the blush that was steadily taking claim of your face. 

"A-anyays." 

The Lady chuckled again, giving you a look before moving further into the barn to allow you space to look around.

At first you weren't even sure what you were looking at. The Lady wasn't wrong, necessarily - each animal <i>was</i> equestrian in nature, sure, but they were also other worldly. Skeletal. With big black eyes that glistened at you with each slow movement. And while you could understand why some may have found them to be a bit off-putting, you personally found them to be rather beautiful. As if someone had taken the skeleton of a very large horse and dipped it in the blackest glitter. 

"They're.. beautiful, my lady." You said softly. 

"In their own way, yes. The cadou can sometimes create very beautiful things." 

"Well, that's a given." 

You blushed even as you quietly said the words. A slight advert to your eyes as you did your best not to make any eye contact. Even if you could feel Alcina's gaze boring into you. 

The Countess hummed in thought. "Perhaps." 

Once you moved in a little closer to the creatures you could start to see the distinguishing features between them all. With each one being unique to itself. And much like the stables on the grounds, each one had a silver plate on their doors with a name engraved in it. Something that couldn't help but make you laugh. 

"I see Dani's gift for naming things continues on."

"Mh.. whether it’s a gift or a curse remains to be seen, dear." 

And while the Lady's tone remained neutral, the soft adoration in her eyes only spoke volumes for how much she loved and appreciated each of her daughters. She gave you a small wink before moving even further into the barn, the quiet swish of fabric following her graceful migration. 

“Take a moment to familiarize yourself. I’ll need you3 to start here first thing in the morning.” 

“Yes, my lady.” 

You couldn’t help but find yourself ever more fascinated with each step you took closer to the stables. And you were almost certain that the creatures before you seemed to be just as enamored with you. Their eyes gently stalking your slow and steady movements. Of course in true Dani form, each animal was named after a defining characteristic, and most having some sort of play on the word ‘mold’. You almost laughed out loud when you came across the nameplate of a rather ornery looking one, one with an insufferable air around it and eyes that seemed to judge your very existence. 

“Moldranda?” You snorted, “I’m sure the High Priestess wasn’t happy about that one.” 

“Mh.. bold of you assume I would have told her.” The Countess chuckled.

“Hah, fair enough.” 

You continued down the first row, coming across a one-eyed horse named ‘Moldyclops’ and an exceptionally beautiful one simply named ‘Athena’. With the last stable empty you turned to make your way over to the other side of the barn, immediately noticing the rather large wings two out of the three creatures sported. You felt your eyes widen as you walked closer to them, a slight flutter to their wings as you did. A curious tilt to your head as you read the first nameplate. 

"Donut?" You chuckled. 

"Mh.. Daniela said that one’s brain is ‘filled with holes’." The Lady chuckled. "He was one of our first in the trial and not very bright." 

"Ah." You replied, walking over to the next one whose name perplexed you just as much. 

"And Moldred? Was this one named after someone Dani knew?" 

"Actually, no." Alcina replied. "Take a closer look at her, little one." 

You took another step closer and even within the low lighting of the room you could see the small red dots that covered the otherwise flawless black mold. You immediately shook your head and laughed. 

"Red mold.. mold red.. Moldred." 

"Precisely." 

As for the last horse in the row's name - it was perfect and honestly, you would have expected nothing less of the youngest Dimitrescu. With long black tendrils that wove around her head like snakes, Moldusa gave you a friendly huff the moment you stood in front of her. 

"Well, hello to you." You said, holding out your hand which the horse quickly nuzzled into. The sensation was not what one your were expecting, though. Similar to stroking over a moss covered rock only not as slimy. You couldn't help but smile when she allowed you to continue to move your hand upwards, petting the tentacles that sat on her head only to message them gently. 

"Does that feel good, sweet girl? Having your tentacles messaged? Hm?" 

From over your shoulder you could feel the Countess watching you, an unreadable emotion burning within her gaze. Immediately you blushed, turning to face your employer with a stutter. 

"A-ah.. I m-mean.. I'm sure it's relaxing! Er.. having them massaged that is.." 

The Lady smirked, only fueling your inner panic. 

"Oh geez! Not like that!  I mean.. I'm sure if you let me massage yours, you'd find it relaxing too-!" 

And just like that, you wanted to die. 

Alcina remained very still, her eyes lingering over you ever so slowly before she spoke. 

"Mh.. I'll be sure to keep that in mind, sweet thing." 

<i>Yep, kill me now.</i> 

You were almost certain that for a single moment your brain completely flatlined - a radio wave of nothing but static and impure thoughts. Surely the Lady had to know the effect she was starting to have on you. Surely the smug smirk painted over her crimson lips told you exactly that. 

You cleared your throat before taking a steadying breath, the pink flush across your cheeks deepening. Though the Lady held her gaze, eyes drinking you in as if you were a bottle of her favorite vintage. You gave Moldusa a final stroke over her nose and took a step back. 

“So, ah.. yeahh...” You said before pausing, which only made Alcina chuckle. 

“Mh? Yes, dear?”

Gods, how indulgently smooth her voice was.. how utterly teasing. Before another wave of gay panic had the chance to come through and render you completely brainless, you quickly changed the subject. 

"So, uh.. am I safe in assuming these horses don't just eat regular hay?"

"You are. Such a clever little thing, hm?" 

"I-" 

You swallowed hard. This woman was going to be the death of you. 

A melodic chuckle trickled off the Lady's lips. 

"Adorable." She added with a pause. "But yes, these horses have a very special mixture made for them each day by a local butcher. If you're familiar with a common bait fisherman use for larger fish called 'chum', it's similar to that." 

"Ah… should I even ask what sort of meat goes into it?" 

"Mh.. not if you're of weak stomach, no." She smirked. 

You chuckled nervously. "Heh.. noted." 

"The food will be here for you in the morning by the time you arrive. I pay extra to have it delivered promptly by five am and I expect you to be here no later than six. Is that understood?" 

"Yes, my lady." 

The Countess nodded before turning back towards the door. The world that laid outside the warmth of the barn nearly pitch black. 

"Unless you have any other questions, little one, we should really be heading back to the castle. It's already quite a bit later than I would prefer to have my staff out in these woods." 

"I think I'm good for now, thank you. But if I think of anything else, I'll make note of it." 

"Good. Right, then." 

The Lady began to lower her large frame as she prepared herself to duck through the semi large doors of the barn but stopped short and turned back to you. A single finger tapping her bottom lip in thought. 

"My dear.. would you be opposed to me doing something to quicken our journey back to the grounds?"

Considering you could barely even make out the trees that surrounded the stables, you shook your head. 

"Not at all. What did you have in mind?" 

Without a single word of response, the Countess swiftly stepped forward and lifted you into her arms, earning herself a sharp cry of surprise.

"M-my lady-! Wait! You shouldn't- .. I'm too-" 

Before you could even finish your sentence Alcina had you positioned in a full bridal carry, her large arms cradling you safely against her bosom. 

"You're too <i>what</i>, little one?" 

You blushed deeply, biting your bottom lip. 

"A-ah.. h-heavy, my lady." You answered, averting your eyes from her obvious glare. 

And while you were almost expecting a stern response, the Lady only laughed. Loud and boisterously - a laugh that made her whole body - as well as yours - jiggle. 

"Oh, sweet thing." She paused, still laughing. "Why, you're light as a feather. Barely even noticeable in my arms at all." 

"Oh, I'm.. erm.." 

You could feel your face growing hotter by the second and without much thought, you buried your face into the softness of her chest. An act you were sure would get you a reprimand, but the Lady only held you closer. 

"Mh.. I take it that's not something you're accustomed to hearing." 

Half muffled in your reply, you answered. 

"Truthfully? I'm more accustomed to hearing the exact opposite. My size has never really been.. well, you know.." 

Your voice trailed off, heated tears now threatening to stain the fine fabric of Alcina's dress. She let out a large sigh, fingers coming to softly stroke your hair. 

"I am more than familiar with how cruel the world can be if one does not fit into society's view of what is considered attractive." 

You looked up at her in surprise, the steadiness of her walk casting moonlit shadows across the deep lines of her face. 

"But.. but you're gorgeous!" 

And though it could have easily been wishful thinking, you could have sworn that trapped within a single sliver of moonlight was the subtle dusting of pink upon Alcina's cheeks.

"Nevertheless.." She cleared her throat, "My reputation does tend to precede me. A beautiful disaster, as it was. A monster." 

With the forest far too dark to see much else, the only thing clear enough to make out were the broken shimmers that seemed to haunt the otherwise warm embers within the Countess' eyes. 

“Pft. Well. at least they got the beautiful part right.” 

The heat of her breath tickled your face as she chuckled. “Charming little pet.” 

“I-” 

You opened  your mouth and then quickly shut it, your fluster stopping your brain short.  

Alcina chuckled again. 

“Mh.. seems as if we’ll just have to come to terms with the fact that, regardless of what the small minds of society think, we both find the other quite beautiful… won’t we?”

As soon as the two of you broke the tree line, the Countess’ illustrious body basked in a wash of silver, you could see the want in her eyes. The desire that slowly stoked beneath her heavy gaze and the hunger that burned within it. There were no falsities to her words, no flattery. Her tongue licking over her bottom lip as she leaned in a little closer, step slowing ever so slightly. 

“M-my lady?” 

“Apologies, little one… but you smell divine. It.. would probably be best if I return you directly to the servants quarters, lest I lose my control.” 

You swallowed hard, heart beating faster than it had in the entirety of your forty some odd years. 

“And.. if I wanted you to lose control?” You asked softly, head tilted back. 

The next few minutes were nothing but a blur of haze, as if the thick fog that slowly crept it’s way across the castle grounds had wrapped you in it’s cold embrace. The Lady’s lips crashing into yours as she pulled a soft moan from your body. You weren’t even sure how you had gotten back inside the castle so quickly, let alone how you ended up inside her bedroom with your back against the wall and her thigh between your parted legs.

Your chest heaved as you panted, Alcina's gaze all but a smolder of lust as it lingered over you. You knew that she could smell how aroused you were, how badly you wanted her - with her firm thigh flexing against your core just because it could. And when she slowly unsheathed her claws to cut your uniform from your plump body, you couldn't even stop the needy whimper that fell all too eagerly from your lips. 

"Mmh.. <i>exquisite</i>." 

The way her tongue curled when she spoke - a faint aroma of wine still lingering on her palate so divine that you could almost taste it. And you wanted to. You wanted to taste every inch of her. You wanted to feel her large body pressed against your own and her lips claiming yours. 

“My lady.. plea-” 

A single claw against your lips - smooth, cool to the touch. 

 “Hush, now, pet. Allow me the honor of worshiping you properly first, hm? You’re quite the feast and I’d prefer to be able to savor every second of you.” 

You only nodded - not that you would’ve been able to articulate any words after such a statement anyways.

"Mh.. that's a good girl." 

The remaining fabric of your uniform fell to the floor in a single fluid motion as Alcina ripped the rest of it from your body, exposing to her every supple curve that you had to offer. A hunger in her eyes that you had yet to see before. Nostrils flaring as she breathed in your scent and leaned in even closer. 

You swallowed hard, feeling her warm breath as it skated over your skin. Your body tingling with anticipation, filled with an unhindered heat the moment her lips pressed against you. Tongue swirling over sensitive flesh and she sucked on it ever so lightly. And of course you moaned - needlessly, wordlessly - the slight scrape of the Lady's fangs across your skin slowly building that subtle throb between your legs. 

Each kiss followed closely by another, each claim of your skin - of your eager body - only leading to the next as Alcina's lips danced tangentially across you. They were softer than you imagined them to be, yet rough to the touch. A single finger trailing up your inner thigh as it inched its way closer to your core and forced you to buck in need. 

"Keep your hips still until I say otherwise, pet." 

You whimpered. "Yes, my lady. Sorry." 

"And you will address me as Mistress from here on out. Is that understood?" 

You swallowed hard, face overcome with heat. 

"Y-yes, Mistress." 

She hummed against your skin, willing a wave of goosebumps across your body so strong it made you shiver. The silk of her dress between your fingers as you grabbed onto her, pulling the Countess even closer to you. 

“So needy.” 

A single phrase followed by a nip at your skin… followed by another, and another. The sting of her teeth becoming ever more prevalent with each one, a rush of blood marking each spot as her large frame moved over your body. And oh, how she claimed you, claimed you like you were a world to conquer and she a war general. With every touch calculated - every caress focused. From your thighs to your belly, to your breasts to your shoulders and neck. You knew her thigh beneath you had to be soaked, the subtle throb between your legs now a deep ache. 

“H-harder.. please.. Mistress.” 

Alcina pulled back for a moment and looked at you, teeth a mere inches from the supple skin of your neck. 

“I’m not certain you’re fully aware of what you’re asking me to do, little one. Once I break the skin, I won’t be able to stop.” 

“I-I’m.. I’m aware.” 

The Countess hesitated and you lengthened the column of your neck. 

“Please, my lady.. I want you to” You added softly. 

Her pupils dilated, breath tickling your skin as she breathed you in an almost primal nature. Her fingers slowly moving - inching closer to your core. And it took everything in you not to buck, not to grind down onto her when a finger came to rest directly against your clit. 

“Mmh.. indulgent little thing.” 

In an instant your hips were raised, moaning outright as soon as you felt it -  Acina’s finger sliding into you the moment her teeth sank deeply into your supple flesh, forcefully breaking the skin.

“Mmph-!”

You lowered your hips slowly, allowing the width of the large digit to fill you. A subtle swirl of the Ladys’ tongue over your skin as she drew your very essence into her mouth, moaning sinfully as she did. 

“And such an exquisite taste.. So <i>robust</i>.”

You could see the blood trickling off one single fang as she looked up at you with a smirk, a quick sweep of her tongue over her bottom lip before her teeth were back inside you - her finger thrusting in. 

The duality of sensations was almost overwhelming. The slow thrusts of her finger, the long pulls of blood from your neck. Both heated, both a perfect mix of pleasure and pain. Each arousing you just the same. The cool tip of her fangs an exquisite contrast to the heat of the bite as she drank from you. 

She allowed your hips to rock, matching in perfect rhythm to her finger. A needy whimper falling almost all too breathless from your lips when she pressed her body into yours, forcing the chilled walls of the castle against your back. 

"Mmmmh."

A final moan against the crook of your neck before Alcina took her final sip of you, licking drops of crimson from your skin with an indulgent sigh. 

"Wouldn't want you passing out on me now would we, sweet thing?" 

Her breath smelled slightly metallic - sweet - lips stopping just short of your own as she rose to face you. The soft pulses of her finger steadily coaxed your arousal higher as the Countess leaned in for a kiss. Gaze lingering over your supple curves before her body was pressed even more firmly into yours. The fine fabric of her dress cool against your heated flesh and your hands placed gently over your head. 

"Such a sweet girl.. taking me so well." 

Intoxicating praises whispered sweetly into your lips, the length of her finger driving in and out of your dripping core at a teasingly slow rate as her tongue began to dance over yours. It was a dance of lovers came to met, a swirl of succulent sweeps as she kissed the breath from your body. You moaned earnestly, hips picking up their pace as you did your best to take in as much of her as you could. Her dress soaked beneath your trembling legs. 

"Mh.. be a good girl and come for me, hm?"

Sinful words punctuated by a single sweep over your clit. And that was it, that was all you needed - a soft command and a Lady's touch - to will the stars behind your eyes to collide, to force universes to touch and your whole body to convulse. A prickling heat spreading over you like an inferno as your core clenched around the width of her and forced your desire out, coating her wrist and drenching her upper thigh. 

For a moment all you could do was shake, riding out the orgasm until the last shudder fell from your body. The Countess holding you close, allowing you the time you needed to come down from your high before she slowly slid her finger out from under you and placed it to your lips. You blushed, opening your mouth. 

"Obedient little pet." 

You nodded, dutifully cleaning the taste of yourself from her skin. 

Though, as soon as Alcina's finger fell from your mouth a wave of exhaustion quickly began to take residence across your body. You yawned, making the Lady chuckle. 

"Mh.. seems I've worn you out, little one." 

Another yawn. 

"M-maybe a little." 

Alcina held you in place as she grabbed the remnants of your uniform off the floor and wrapped them around your still naked body. A soft kiss coming to your forehead and the strength of her embrace holding you close as she began to carry you. 

Where to, you weren't certain. Though you were sure it likely wasn't her bed. You couldn't imagine the Countess letting just anyone share her bedside- 

Another yawn. 

"Sleep, my dear. I've got you." 

With that you felt safer than you had in your entire life and snuggled into the crook of her arm. With your needs and wants perfectly tended to and your body more relaxed than it had ever been. You wondered if you'd think it was all a dream come the morning. You wondered if you'd believe it even happened at all. But the reddened marks that adorned your body would quickly prove to you that it had, and everyone in the castle would surely be aware of Lady Dimitrescu's claim on you by lunch.

***