#and they all have TWO BEANS and NO HOOVES

[psudopod]

FYI; Camelids have foot pads, not hooves

Yes, those are TWO TOE BEANS. Llamas, alpacas, and camels have TWO BEANS with TWO CLAWS. They walk on their beans. They do not have cloven hooves or equine hooves. They have beans.

[nkirukaj]

Deerly Beloved (4)

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! OC

Warnings: Swearing;

Genre: ANGST/Fluff (& Humor!)

Word Count: 1.8K

4. Sick

“Take your fucking children!” Bean plops them down into Alastor’s arms, breathing heavily and looking frazzled and worse for wear.

“My my, what happened to you?” Alastor asked nonchalantly

Bean takes a deep breath and smooths her hair down “Your children happened to me! One of them tried to rip out my hair, and the other tried to eat my leg! The real one!” She huffs and falls over onto the couch in the parlor

“If you’re going to complain this much, maybe I won’t leave them with you anymore,”

“Good! Fucking good! Those kids are menaces!” she rolls over onto the floor.

“Oh, come now, I’m sure you’re blowing it out of proportion,” Alastor looks down, and Alyson is biting his arm “No.” He tells her, but she doesn’t stop “Ǹ̷̛̖̼͚̠͙̖͓͎͍̝͇̤̻̔̋̉͆͛́̈́̎ͅơ̴̧̳̝͋̀͒̇̒̓̔̏̓̾!” his voice distorts and his eyes turn into radio dials. Alyson stares up at her daddy with a slacked jaw and drool dripping from her mouth. “Enough,” he said with a smile “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Bean stares at him in disbelief and falls back down on the floor.

When Alastor looks back down at Alyson, he finds that she is staring at him with radio-dial eyes, anger clear on the baby’s face “Hmm,” he says proudly as his smile grows and pinching one of her hooves. He puts the two of them down on the couch and stares at them. They immediately begin to wrestle, Alyson biting Vernie on the shoulder and Vernie grabbing and yanking Alyson by the hoof. Alastor stood with his arms behind his back and sighed, why had he told Voe that he wanted these children, he had no idea what to do with them now that she was gone. This was her dream, and she was his. 

“You, effeminate spider,” Alastor points his cane at Angel Dust, who is walking by him at the moment.

Angel turns his head, it’s clear that he’s halfway out the door at this point “Huh?” Angel wonders why it is after all this time Alastor never calls him by his name.

“You need to watch these two for me,” he gestures toward the children who are currently trying to climb onto the floor and pulling each other by the hair and clothes.

The spider lowers his shades to look the Overlord in the eyes “I gotta go to work,” he points out the door

Alastor raises his brow “Okay?” it’s clear in the Overlord’s eyes that he cares not for whatever is on the effeminate spider’s agenda for the day, he was not asking, this was an order.

“Okay?” They stare at each other for a good minute or so before Angel finally backs down he sighs “Okay,”  Alastor shadows away. Angel scoops the kids up and carries them out the door “I don’t know what I’m gonna do wit’ you two while I’m working. I don’t think they have a playpen or nuthin’ like that. And I don’t want you in there with Val. Hey, stop!”

The twins have climbed out of his arms and onto various places on his body. Aly on his head and Vernie on his back, after struggling to get them back into his arms, Angel just shrugs and 

lets them stay where they are, as long as they don’t fall. “Ow! Not so rough on the hair!”

He strolls into the studio with the kids on his body, walking up to Val, who’s in the middle of screaming at another actor when Angel approaches him. Angel stands and waits for Val to be finished when he turns around and notices the children that he’s wearing as accessories.

“Baby look…��� Valentino takes off his shades and rubs his forehead “I know, some people have been putting it in your head that my ideas aren’t that good, but A they’re wrong and B I will not stoop to pedophilia,”

Angel looks up and shakes his head vigorously “Oh no, that’s not what I have ‘em for, I’m baby sittin’ ‘em”

“I don’t care, who’s fucking kids are these?”

“Alastor’s,” he admits

Val sighed and pressed a button “Vox, Alastor’s kids are here,” Val covered his eyes “Give them to Kitty,”

“To wh-ah shit!” The Fizzarolli bot appears behind him, grabbing the kids off his body and making him flinch “Well, shit! Can I at least know where ya takin’ ‘em?”

Valentino grabs Angel’s chin “Angel baby, focus.” his voice getting deep and serious on his final word

Vox sat in front of his screens with sinners killing each other, doing drugs, and even having sex, as he anticipated the new drop when Kitty came in with the children. She places them in his arms, and Vox laughs a hearty, evil laugh

“I finally got him, Alastor’s seed! Hahahahahahahahaha!” he looked down at the babies “First, your mother abandoned you, and now, you’re in my town. Hey! Are you listening?” Alyson was climbing up the TV man’s body and biting down on his screen “Likely one of Alastor’s tricks, but I just got a new screen protector installed!” He swats at the little girl. Vernie crawls up his side and starts pulling on his thumb “Ouch, what the fuck!” he tries pulling them down, but he can’t keep up with the speed they’re crawling at. Vox places Vernie on the ground to get a handle on Alyson when his face starts ringing, when he answers it is Velvette,

“Vox, what do you think about this shading for the newest official V-phone cases?”

Vox tries to turn and see what she’s showing him, but Vernie is on the ground, spinning the chair around in circles

“Vox? Vox!”

“Yes, yes my dear?”

“What are you doing, playing on a merry-go-round?”

“Of course not I’m-“

“Is that a child?”

Vernie climbs up onto Vox’s lap as the chair is still spinning and finally plants his feet down on the ground and steadies himself, he’s too dizzy to answer her.

“And why does he look like Alastor? Did you clone Alastor?” 

Vox chuckles when he finally comes to “That’s actually not a bad idea. Clone Alastor and make him fight himself!”

“Hello? Explanation?” Velvette presses

“Oh right, these are Alastor’s kids, I’m holding them for safekeeping,”

Velvette stares at him with judgmental eyes and slaps her forehead “I’m coming down,”

Vox finally gets the kids in a single place on his lap, Aly still biting his thumb and Vernie wrinkling his sweater vest when Velvette comes downstairs

“All right, now, what have you done to these sweet children?” she reaches down and picks them up

“Do not take them out of this room,”

“Why? Are they prisoners?” she stares at Vox in a disappointed way “Vox,”

Vox stands to adjust his sweater vest and trousers “I’m going to use them as leverage,”

“What even is your plan? Does he even know that you have his kids?” Vox stares with wide eyes and pulls out his phone “Goddammit Vox!”

The phone rang at the hotel; Husker raised his heavy head to answer it and keep it from falling back down multiple times. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel,” he mumbled into the receiver

“I want to talk to Alastor,”

“Hmm?”

“I want to talk to Alastor,”

The phone is slipping up his face and sliding out of his hand “What about him,”

“I wanna talk to him,”

“I can take a message,” Husker falls face-first onto the counter

“Put the princess of Hell on the phone!”

“Huh?

“GET ME THE PRINCESS OF HELL!!”

Charlie happens to be walking past when Vox requests, “Charlie!!” Husker screams, startling her

“Yeah?” 

“Phone,” he hands it to her and faceplants onto the counter

“Hello?” Charlie cheerily speaks into the phone

“Yes, Miss Morningstar?”

“Ha! Miss, just call me Charlie!”

Vox pauses on the other end “I need to speak to Alastor,”

“How are you?”

Vox is taken aback fro a moment “Well I’m fine. It’s been a bit of a day but- I need to speak to Alastor!”

“Um, okay…may I ask why?”

When Vox opens his mouth to speak, Vernie begins crying, tears and snot dripping down his face soon Aly begins to cry as well, and Velvette drops them back into Vox’s lap.

“I only deal with babies when they’re cute, not when they’re crying!”

“Hello?” Charlie asks again 

“Yes, I want Alastor to know that I have his kids!”

“What? You have his kidney?”

“No! I said I have his kids!”

“What is going on over there? I can’t hear you!”

Vox is trying to hush up the children “I have his kids!”

“This is honestly making me uncomfortable, I’m going to hang up,”

“No! don’t! I-“

“Oh Alastor! The phone is for you!”

Vox laughs maniacally, over the sound of the two children crying, he’s laughing so loud that he misses Alastor saying 

“Hello?” after only hearing the loud chaos he says “Just hang up my dear,”

“Wait!”

The line is silent for a moment on the other end, and then there’s a sigh. “Vox?”

Vox clears his throat. “Alastor,” he does not respond “I have something for you,”

More silence then “I doubt you have anything that I want,”

Vox chuckles evilly “Oh, I don’t?”

“What is it, Vox?”

Vox puts the phone in front of Alyson, allowing her to speak, “Yayayayayayablapbloopbembeessishratatascratowattawatta,”

Alastors eyes widen with surprise “Alyson?”

“Yes, your Alyson, I’ve got her here with me what are you going to do about it Al huh?”

“What do you want to do some kind of trade?”

Vox laughs evilly “Come and get them,” and hangs up the phone.

When he gets off the phone he looks over to see Lucifer standing with Charlie, an ‘I told you so’ look on his face and his hands on his hips, slightly tilted at an angle. Alastor turns to him and speaks.

“Don’t gloat; it’s very unbecoming of you,”

Lucifer huffs, puffing out his chest “How about ‘don’t let your children get kidnapped’ it’s very unbecoming of you!”

Alastor dusts off his sleeves and shadows his way to V Tower, it doesn’t take long at all considering he knows exactly where to look. When he comes face to face with Vox he cracks his neck and is prepared to negotiate

“Now Alastor what are you willing to do for them? I could give you one or the other?” he lifts the kids up one by one in each hand

Alastor sighs “Fine, give me the girl, and you can keep the boy,”

Vox’s eyes widen and his mouth is agape “I’m sorry, what?”

“Give me the girl, and you can keep the boy,”

Vox shoots up “What is wrong with you??” He shoves the twins into Alastor’s arms “Here! Take them! You’re sick!” he goes to sit back down “Sicker than your wife! Get out!”

Alastor blinks for a moment “Excuse me, I would’ve thought you’d like the attention!”

“Get the fuck out!”

[wizisbored]

hey you guys want some backstory on what nimona was talking about in my last whumptober post??

cw verbal abuse, referenced physical abuse, brief violence

///

Nimona can never go at it alone for long.

Some stints last longer than others, generally dictated by how much of an ass the last person she stuck with was. Asses, as it turns out, have the singular selling point of being a decent cure for loneliness. But time has the unfortunate habit of healing wounds, and after long enough the sharp points of the spite are worn down enough for her to think that maybe, maybe, this time will be different.

She knows what to look for and how to find it, and all in all it’s incredibly easy to put herself in the path of another horse thief.

Three days and one perfectly honorable and upstanding horse trader later, Nimona once again has her decision on whether to talk to her new companion postponed by a piece of metal shoved in her mouth. She’s a shifty, scrappy-looking woman clearly running from something, because she came willing to pay for any horse - even a great big heavy-footed thing that won’t take her anywhere fast - as long as it gets her out of town.

Nimona can do that.

The woman is a quiet rider. Some people sing in the saddle, some talk - to themselves or to her, regardless if they know that she understands them. But the day goes by without another word, the time filled instead by the creaking of saddle leather and the steady thudding of hooves. Nimona considers humming to herself, but past experience has taught her that humming tends to have a better chance than speaking does of making her rider question their sanity. At least when she opens her mouth and talks there’s a clear source. It’s easier to think humming could be coming from anywhere. Nimona amuses herself instead by fidgeting with the bit on her tongue.

Camp is made that night in the middle of nowhere, Nimona put on a rope and allowed to graze. She does, briefly, but she’s far more interested in getting to know her new companion. She wanders over to where the woman is cooking, and presses her nose to her shoulder. The woman half-turns towards her, still keeping her eye on the fire.

“What do you want?” she asks as she absent-mindedly strokes her nose, and Nimona makes a split-second decision.

“Just wanted to come say hey,” the horse says.

It’s a few days through the desert to get where they’re going, wherever the hell that is. The woman’s been cagy. Nimona doesn’t even know her name, and she’s been snapped at for using ‘Boss’. But, they’ve managed to settle on Ma’am, when they actually talk. The lady’s no more of a conversationalist now that she’s got someone to converse with, and outside of the rides characterized by long swaths of silence Nimona finds herself talking for two. It’s not something she finds all too difficult. She rambles, to put it plainly, and even with how long she’s been at this she’s still not learnt to be too tight-lipped in certain areas. Her new companion knows she can do more than just talk by the end of the second day.

“Y’know, you’ve really got this ‘mysterious drifter’ thing down,” Nimona tells her, at the end of the fourth. “Like, ‘so unknowable that not even her horse knows where she’s going.’”

“Most horses don’t know where they’re going, they just do as they’re told,” the lady points out.

“Yeah, I guess, but I’m not most horses, am I?” Nimona counters, with a teasing smile.

“Stop prying.”

The lady pointedly returns her attention to the beans and hardtack she’s eating. Nimona pouts, tearing loudly at a clump of desert grass she’s uprooted; sure, she looks human right now, but she can still survive like a horse and so she isn’t afforded a share of the rations. A stalk scratches at the corner of her mouth as she eats, and she absent-mindedly rubs at it. Wrong move.

“Don’t,” the woman snaps.

“What?”

“You’re finding a way to complain without complaining. I’ve told you to drop it.”

“I wasn’t, actually, but if you wanna bring it up so bad-”

“Don’t.”

“Why shouldn't I? I told you upfront I don’t like bits, but I let you have it ‘cause it’s what you wanted. And you thank me by being as heavy-handed on the thing as humanly possible?”

“You’re too stubborn. I wouldn’t have to be so firm with you if-”

“If what? If I was a perfectly obedient normal horse?

“Yes! I never asked for this, you know. I bought a standard, no-funny-business horse. I didn’t want a traveling companion!”

“Yeah- Well- That’s just how it is, sometimes! Sometimes you buy a horse and it turns out it’s not a horse! It happens!”

“No it does not! Horses are horses! It’s not normal to try to buy one and end up with some- some grubby, ugly little freak.”

Nimona is on her feet before she knows it, throwing the grass to the ground. “Some what?”

“You heard me,” the woman says, unimpressed. “You know. So stop being a brat and just listen - we’re gonna get out of this goddamn desert, and then you’re gonna let me sell you on as a horse to make back what I paid. Stay with whoever buys you, sneak off, I don’t care. But you’re getting me my money back.”

“Oh, that’s real bold. Real fucking bold! You think you’re getting on my back again after that?!”

“I better be! You better get your damn act together or I can promise you, there’ll be hell to pay!”

Nimona barks out a laugh, her eyes wide. “What kinda hell? No, really, what kinda hell? What do you think you could do to me?”

The woman stands too. “Are you threatening me? Making like you’re just going to up and leave?”

“What you gonna do about it if I am?”

In two strides the woman is right in her face, grabbing a fistful of Nimona’s bandanna and yanks it upward, like she’s trying to lift her by it. “You could do with learning some respect, girl.”

Nimona holds her gaze steady, not intimidated in the slightest. “Why,” she growls, “would I respect someone who cut my gums open and called me a freak?”

“You ARE a freak!” She tugs roughly on the bandana, almost shaking her. “Of course you’re a freak, look at you!”

Nimona snarls. Not like a human doing a poor imitation of an animal. Like a wolf. Teeth and all. For the first time, the woman falters.

“Stop that.”

She snarls louder. More teeth, brighter eyes. The woman shoves her away.

“You’re crazy, you-”

There’s teeth in her throat before she can finish.

Before the sun is up, a bloodied, wild-eyed teenager stumbles into a bar in the ass end of nowhere, alone. Nobody has the guts to deny her a drink.

[changingplumbob]

Chopra Household: Chapter 6, Part 7

Time for my toddlers to become children. I've already stretched the toddler lifespan and I'm still not emotionally prepared.

If Viola is attempting to say something it will be in brackets, otherwise you can assume it's just trying out sounds Mercedes has a speech delay and may get words wrong, correct wording will be in brackets if that is the case Savannah aka Honeybee Mercedes aka Little Ladybug Viola aka Green Bean

Before heading to bed Cassandra decides to peek in on Viola. Good thing she did as the little infant has a big stink cloud, probably one good stretch or bladder emptying away from a blowout.

Cassandra: Oh dear, wake up green bean

Cassandra strokes Viola’s belly until her eyes flutter open.

Viola: ge la doo (what mama)

Cassandra: Come on, we need to change that diaper

Cassandra gingerly carries Viola over to the changing table where she begins the delicate cleaning operation. Viola becomes aware of her diaper situation and begins to cry at the irritating squishy.

Viola: *cries* he na loo (I smell bad)

Cassandra: Just hold on Viola, we’ll have a nice clean one soon, mama promises

All clean, Cassandra decides to try encouraging Viola to crawl again when her older sisters aren’t commenting. Viola manages to balance a few times on all fours but whenever it comes to moving her limbs forward she ends up collapsing. This of course leads to tears because being an infant is tough. Cassandra gives her a soothing cuddle and lets her nurse before settling her back in her crib for the night.

Cluckton: *crows* Hear ye, hear ye! Important day! The waddlers have their birthday! We will have visitors so remain vigilant outside the coop, snakes could could from any direction

Squidge: *clucks disapprovingly* Come on dad, 5 more minutes

Inside Cassandra wakes up to discover her milk has leaked in the night. Sighing she decides that it’s best to pump before a shower, then she can get properly clean. Rahul let’s his boss know he’s working from home today for his toddlers. He has to submit a grant proposal but before that he mixes some batter to make two strawberry cakes for his eldest girls.

Cluckton: *crows* Toxic situation! Toxic situation! Mama where are YOU? We need emergency mini goat cleaning

Turtle: *bleats* Do you think you could have crowed that any louder

Seven: *bleats in clean laughter*

Cassandra heads outside but before tending to the animals she collects the eggs and cleans the coop. Rahul wakes Viola up and after a feeding leaves her to play in the nursery. Viola knows that mama would be happy if she can crawl so she has solo tummy time. Alas, no big improvements.

Mercedes: It our birth day. We… how old we

Savannah: Six years!

Mercedes: You think mama invite Uncle Milton

Savannah: He not so bad, he just grump face

The girls decide to spend the end of their toddlerhood playing in the yard with the animals. Mercedes decides she wants to try and hug Seven but Seven is not in the mood, angrily headbutting her and stomping her hooves.

Mercedes: MAMA! Seven mean

Cassandra: Oh dear. Try just petting her if she’s not wanting a hug ladybug. Not everyone likes hugs

Mercedes: Okay mama *deep breath* I try

Mercedes: Nice Seven, I just want pet…

Seven obliges and bends her head to give the toddler access.

Mercedes: *giggles* Mama! Mama I did it!

Across the yard Savannah is seeking comfort from Mr Cluckton, pulling him into a hug.

Savannah: Mr Cluck, I had potty accident. I six now, it sad to have accident

Cluckton: *clucks comfortingly* It’s okay, Squidge pooped in the coop for years

Savannah: I go find Mercedes. Bye bye Cluck Cluck

Cluckton: *clucks* Bye little waddler

Mercedes: Mama I try hug Mrs Fea… Fea…

Cassandra: If you want to call Mrs Feathers Mrs F or F I’m sure she won’t mind

Mercedes: Yay!

She gleefully gathers the chicken in her arms for a hug.

Mercedes: It okay Mrs F. I go to words class then I’ll say whole name

Mrs Feathers: *clucks* Don’t worry, I don’t have an ego like my husband, you call me whatever you want

Inside Rahul submits his grant proposal. Looks like it’s a no this time, oh well, there’s always next time. Viola is busy playing with the blocks in the nursery and has learned how to pincer grasp! Outside Mercedes and Savannah share a last toddler hug as the party gets underway. Rahul tries to call everyone to the two cakes in the kitchen.

Guests include Cassandra’s younger brothers Alexander and Milton. Alexander’s husband James is also here as well as Lavina, Rahul’s mother. To say she has a rocky relationship with her granddaughters would be putting it lightly. Raul carries eldest Savannah over to the cake and tells her to make a wish. Thinking hard Savannah blows on the candles. Back down on the ground she’s ready to turn into a child.

Hold everything! Viola would like to interrupt this celebration by revealing she can clap now!

Viola: *clapping* he na roo da (I so clever)

Mercedes: *pouts* Mama I want it to be about me, not Viola

Cassandra: Oh I know ladybug, it is. It’s your birthday

Viola: Ge na lay (I am the best)

Mercedes: Can you help me blow

Cassandra: Of course. Remember to make a wish

Mercedes really wants to wish for Viola to disappear, but she knows mama wouldn’t approve, so she tries to think of something else.

Cassandra: Alright Mercedes, make a wish and blow

Mercedes: Yes mama

Pulling as much air into her little lungs as she can Mercedes puffs out and with Cassandra’s help all the candles are blown out.

Mercedes: I did it mama! Thank mama

Cassandra: You’re welcome little ladybug

On the ground and Mercedes gets ready to spin just like her older twin.

Here we are, Rahul and his clones daughters. Sorry folks but the twins have decided on matching looks to confuse their younger sister as much as possible. Mercedes is on the left and Savannah the right. Savannah has hair clips, Mercedes does not. While they have matching butterfly necklaces Savannah has a darker one than Mercedes. Savannah rolled the geek trait as well as the Social Butterfly aspiration, the like of bugs and purple as a third favourite colour. By sheer dumb luck clingy and aggressive Mercedes rolled the erratic trait as well as the Creative Genius aspiration, the like of cross stitch and grey as a third favourite colour.

Previous ... Next

[dracocheesecake]

First and Fighting Words

Summary: Another snippet taken from the Daddy!Kai AU (AU where he and Oogway were never ambushed and continued along their path as warlords). Kai now has a new calf, but there seems to be a dispute over her first words.

General Oogway had been prompted to make another visit to his friend and said friend’s growing family; Kai had two calves now, the newest being a baby girl of eight months old.

Oogway looked at her now, swaddled in green silken blankets to keep her comfortable in the early spring’s remaining chill. While her older brother had been a solid copy of his father, this one looked like her mother: same black fur, and a little tuft of curls on her noggin that might grow like her mother's as well. Her eyes, though, were like her fathers; these were glued to Oogway, having never once left him since the moment he came into their sight.

Oogway wondered (privately) if the calf ever blinked. This was the first time he had seen her, the eight months’ since her birth having been eaten up by a skirmish near the outskirts of one of his more rural territories that had taken longer than expected, and the rest of the weeks had been needed just to get here; that particular winter had been a rough one, especially spent on the roads- but at least the Spring was promising.

The portico provided a nice view onto the grounds of the estate, and the wind blew in blossoms of various pastel colors that scattered over the table. Zan, Kai’s wife, was standing at the rail, looking out over the gardens while Kai held their daughter, already bragging about all of her ‘accomplishments’.

Oogway nodded sagely after the ramble had gone on a while and plucked a blossom petal out of his tea before taking a sip. He smacked, and then said: “How precocious. This one's even fatter than her brother was.”

Zan covered her smile with her fan, but her shoulders were shaking, and occasionally a small chortle escaped. Kai snorted, frowning.

“She's not fat,” he said, “she's plump. She's a baby, she's supposed to be.” One of his hooves came up, tickling her round little tummy. Dai Lu giggled and unraveled her chubby arms from the swaddling to grab at her father's hand.

Oogway smiled. “She looks like a lavishly wrapped bean bun.”

“She does not!” Kai snapped. “She looks like her mother!”

Zan turned and raised her brows at him. “I look like a bean bun?”

“What? No! I-”

Both his wife and his friend started laughing, and then Dai Lu squealed hysterically alongside, and Kai found himself fighting to keep his pout in place.

“She doesn't look like a bean bun!” He stated stubbornly. He poked the baby’s nose. “You. Stop laughing! You don’t look like a bean bun!”

That only made her laugh more, and then Kai broke. A cackle of his own burst free before he could stop it, and eventually he gave up trying to.

“Well,” Kai said, trying to come to his child’s defense even still, “she’s a very smart bean bun. She’s already made some progress on her first steps.”

Oogway tilted his head. “Oh? Well, she certainly has the legs for it. Maybe all that chub is actually muscle. ”

“Oogway, I swear-”

“We're already expecting her first words,” Zan said, before her husband could finish his threat, “It'll probably be ‘mama'.”

Kai snorted. “Nah, she's going to say ‘daddy’, like her brother did.”

Zan glared at him. There was a sudden tension in the air, not as friendly. “No,” she said, with more firmness than Oogway felt necessary, “she'll say ‘momma’.”

There was a pause. The tension began to grow and simmer. Kai's head turned slowly towards her. There was a smile on his face, a pleasant one that didn't meet his eyes.

“No,” he said again, “she's going to say ‘daddy’.”

Zan narrowed her eyes. Her hoof stomped the ground, once. “No,” she said again, “‘momma’.”

Kai was now returning her glare. Dai Lu cooed, babbling, tugging on Kai's mane, but he didn't notice. He disentangled her and then plopped her down into Oogway's hands, his eyes never once leaving his wife.

“Oogway, hold this,” he said, and then got up to go stand before Zan, glaring down at her with his arms crossed. She was saying something, poking his chest, something about ‘i carried her for nine months’, and then there was another exchange, which devolved into:

“No, momma!”

“No, daddy!”

“Momma!”

“Daddy!”

“Momma!”

“Daddy!”

“Momma!”

“Oogway, you tell her-”

“Don’t you dare bring Oogway into this! You always try to bring Oogway into everything! Oogway this, Oogway that- why didn’t you just marry Oogway?!”

Apparently this was only a continuation of some sort of argument that had been going on for awhile, something Kai hadn’t written about in his letters. Oogway held the little calf at arm's length, raising his brows in some amusement- all that he could glean from such an uncomfortable situation.

“Your parents are crazy, Bean Bun,” Oogway said with a chuckle, “I feel sorry for you.”

Dai Lu giggled, chubby arms waving towards Oogway, tiny feet kicking in her swaddling.

“Oogwaa!” She squealed.

Oogway's mouth fell open. When he looked up, Kai and Zan's were doing the same. There was an eternity of pause, and both stared for its duration; then they rushed over.

“What did she say?” Kai asked, crouching down with his hands on his knees, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Did she say what I think she said?” Zan said, laughing despite herself.

“Oogwaa!” The calf cooed, reaching for the tortoise’s face.

Oogway felt tears welling in his eyes and immediately hugged her close. “I think I have a favorite, now.” He said, trying to keep his voice from shaking, but failing miserably. The little calf cuddled into him, babbling.

Zan laughed, putting her hands on her hips. “Well, I guess that’s what we get,” she said, “there’s a lesson in irony here, somewhere, I’m sure.”

“One cannot force the wind to blow in their direction,” Oogway said sagely, gently bouncing the calf.

Kai rolled his eyes and took her out of Oogway’s arms. “Alright, no more philosophy for you. You’re going to turn her mind into mush with that nonsense.”

“Oogwaa!” Dai Lu cried, reaching for Oogway with little pouty noises. Kai snorted and poked her belly.

“Ok, now say ‘dada’. If you can say ‘Oogway’, you can say ‘dada’.”

His daughter looked up at him, pouting. But then, slowly, she began to smile again.

“Mama!”

"...Here, Oogway, you can hold her."

[therottenkingsreckoning]

We're back with another one! Went through several agonizing rewrites here, stressing probably more than necessary that things all flow well and feels hit like they're supposed to. But finally, the whole extra long beast of a chapter is finished.

I'll put some stuff down below this like I did earlier- except this time, it's a link to the B Dylan Hollis recipe video I had in mind when Frank is talking about cake (a recipe I'd still love to try out myself) and the drawings of Apple the houpa I made ages ago.

Anyway, enough rambling. Fanfic ahoy!

Little Flame, chapter 7

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was one thing for Eddie to be nervous. After all, his mate and child were on the line if anything happened. But it was another thing entirely when the other neighbors starting treating Frank the same way.

"Oop, watch your head there!" Howdy called out, passing by them with armfuls of boxes. Frank had been helping out around the bodega lately, a way of repaying the stolen test which had over time morphed into a biweekly half-job. It was also a chance for the two to hang out, since they otherwise wouldn't have done.

"I'm just saying, you should give it a chance," Frank said, continuing where he'd left off in both sweeping and conversation. "Beans add a nice richness you don't get from the regular stuff."

"But in a cake? Really? Apple, move outta the way." Howdy nudged the houpa with his foot, earning little more than a mrrp? in response. "If ya ask me, it sounds like the cravings might be getting to your head right now."

Frank huffed. "This was before I'd gotten pregnant, so I highly doubt that would've had an affect on my taste."

"Heh, if ya say so," Howdy replied, beginning to unpack the first box of the stack he'd set down beside him.

Frank would've responded further, they already knew what to say. Unfortunately though, the now awake cat-horse that was Howdy's pet had deemed his broom a suitable plaything, clamping the bristles between his hooves & teeth with considerable force.

"Nggh ...God, it's no use trying to get anything done around this animal!" he scoffed, ceding the tool to its new rightful owner. "Why do you even still keep him here?"

"Hey now, you heard what Ember said, he can't be released into the wild. And I've caught you snuggling this big dork several times, so don't try to claim you don't like him too." A lower hand grabbed the scientist's arm as they were reaching for a box, the taller shaking his head firmly. "Uh uh, no heavy lifting for you Mr. Mom."

Frank let out a noise of frustration as he realized what Howdy was saying. "Oh come on, not you too! It's like I suddenly can't do anything anymore!"

"Sorry fella, I just couldn't live with myself if you got hurt. Not to mention Eddie would probably have my head for it." The caterpillar shrugged his shoulders in succession. "Matter of fact, I can probably take care of the rest here if you wanna get going. It's been great, but I'm sure you've got stuff you wanna do."

Frank took the offer, begrudgingly. Howdy was wrong, he didn't really have anything better to do with his time. But they'd certainly not be made to sit uselessly inside the shop! No, he'd go see what Julie was up to.

Outside was nice, the weather warm and a little windy. the sounds of birds and bugs made gentle music on Frank's ears, and he felt their spirits lifted as he walked along the path. No sense in letting it get to me now, they thought. He's wrong, but I'll let him be wrong. I've got a day to enjoy.

They passed by Barbie's house, the dog herself just stepping out when she noticed him and raised a paw in friendly greeting. "Hey there Frank, you heading to Julie's house?"

"Indeed I am," Frank answered simply.

"I'll go with ya then!" she said cheerfully, not waiting for an answer as she strode up beside the grey. "Got a book I was gonna return to her anyway."

Frank let out a heavy, dramatic sigh and kept walking. "Alright, but if you get too annoying I'll go somewhere else."

In truth it was mostly just for show, and he suspected she knew that too. They'd gotten along well in recent months, her frequent visits to Julie's house meaning the two had had plenty of time to get to know each other better. And Frank was grateful for a distraction in any case, as she rambled cheerfully about everything and nothing.

"...he's got paints set aside for that, mixed the batches up himself" she chuckled, wiggling her fingers for emphasis. "Doesn't want me dippin' my big ol' mitts into the good stuff."

Frank nodded. "Suppose that does make sense. There's much less oil paint, and it really isn't meant f-"

"SHH!"

Words and walking stopped short as one of those same big hands swept out to catch him. "There's something up ahead," the dog growled, all cheerfulness gone as her ears perked and eyes narrowed to scan the treeline. Frank looked around himself, feeling a growing fear creep into the pit of their stomach until-

A squirrel darted from between the lower branches of a tree, running swiftly past them to the other side of the road. "Phew, thought it was somethin' big," Barbie said, releasing the iron grip she'd had on the smaller's shoulders.

Frank wriggled out of her grasp and frowned. "You're really getting this worked up over squirrels?" He scoffed, arms folded.

Sheepishly, she shrugged. "Can't really help it, sorry. I guess it's some kinda instinct that tells me I need to keep ya safe. Especially right now, with uhh...things bein' the way that they are."

"You mean my pregnancy."

"...yeah."

Frank grumbled, pinching the bridge of their nose. "I don't need you protecting me Barbara, I can handle all this on my own."

Barbie opened her mouth to protest further, but a glare from the other shut her down quickly. "Yeah, fine I won't bug ya about it," she sighed. Then grinning, added, "Don't suppose you mind bugs though."

Frank groaned out loud. My God, this was the worst one yet! Barbie gladly took the victory as a sign to press further, the two subconciously falling into familiar rhythms of grump and jokester until they were suddenly right outside a familiar pink dwelling.

Unsurprisingly, Julie was the middle of planning a game when they arrived, marking hopscotch squares out with chalk. "Frank!! and Barbie too!" She squealed excitedly upon seeing her friends, jumping to her feet and giving both of them a warm hug. Still on the ground, Sally laughed softly and waved a hello. "Already done with your work at the bodega dear?"

"Yes, well, he allowed me to leave early," Frank said with a roll of his eyes, sitting down beside her on the dirt. "We had a bit of a disagreement over my current capabilities."

"Oh, I'm sure he's simply worried for you darling," Sally reassured, "We all are."

Frank sighed. The condescension was beginning to get annoying, but he didn't want to ruin things with an argument when they'd just arrived. For your friends, for Julie, he thought, mentally gritting his teeth as he silently picked up another of the hula hoops the star was inexplicably wrapping in colorful tape.

Next to them, Julie was explaining the rules of her new game. "So if it lands on heads, you gotta run around the neighborhood before they catch you."

"Ough, might wanna lay off the runnin' right now," said Barbie. " 'S at least two of us who can't do much of that."

Frank turned to look at her. It was quite clear she was referring to themselves, yet he rationalized- not an unfair proclamation. It's true, I can't really run too far now without getting winded. No need to get worked up...

Julie seemed to consider it, a worrying look of worry starting to creep over the monster's features. "Oh that is true, we gotta be careful with Frank right now! Don't wanna hurt the baby."

Frank's heart sank. Oh no. Not her. They could handle the others, could pretend their opinions didn't matter to him. But Julie... "You don't need to..." he started.

"Better take out the ball-throwing too in that case!" Sally interrupted. "Maybe even these hula hoops, they could hit someone's stomach pretty hard if you spin them fast."

"That's..."

"Perfect thinking!" Julie proclaimed, already pulling her her notes to make amendments. "No running, no throwing..."

"Julie please," Frank begged, increasingly upset.

It fell on deaf ears. The three were talking as though he wasn't even there, oblivious to the building whine of stress & overstimulated rage happening inches away.

"Take out-"

"Better change-"

"Really for the best that we-"

"STOP IT!!!" Frank screamed, jumping up to his feet and throwing the hoop somewhere off into the distance. Their breath was ragged, his eyes burned so badly with tears that they didn't dare open them. "Why don't you trust me to do anything right now???? Why are you treating me this way?!?"

Dead silence filled the air, even the sounds of nature seemingly stunned by his outburst. All that was there was the rustling wind and his heavy breathing, through gritted teeth and shaking hands. Julie gently touched their arm, but he smacked it away, not wanting touch or care right now. "And you especially Julie! I thought you of all people would understand."

"Frank I'm-"

"Shut up," he huffed, already marching away. "Just shut up."

Frank felt so sick, and tired, and angry. Why was everyone like this right now? Just because he was pregnant, he was suddenly unable to throw a ball, or lift a box, or do anything he could've done five months ago? "It's like all they care about is you," he snarled, poking at their belly, "I'm just a vessel."

A sudden splash, and wetness seeped into his sock. As though this awful, awful day couldn't get any worse, he'd stepped into a puddle. But maybe it was the anger twisting their mind around- it felt good now. A puddle's full of awful germs they wouldn't want me touching. Shame if I...

SPLASH! his other foot stomped down hard into the mud, sending water flying up onto his trousers. SPLASH SPLASH! they danced and kicked around in it, somehow reveling right now in how awful it felt, how forbidden.

"I'm doing things! I might hurt myself!" He sang out loud to no one, grabbing a nearby tree branch and pulling. "Won't somebody stop me?!" It snapped, and he tumbled back into the dirt, giggling manically as they stood up and swung it back into the trunk like a sword. Then again, and again as the rage turned to violence and then into tears. Frank sank into the dirt, breathing hard as he sobbed.

"Are you ok?"

Frank opened his eyes to a familiar blue swirl above them, its owner giving them a look of confusion. "Go away," the taller sniffled angrily. Last thing he needed was people caring.

"Ok," Wally answered simply with a shrug, already turning around to start walking away. In that moment, with just how completely messed up this whole day had been, it was this simple lack of concern that struck Frank's heart all of a sudden. "Come back," he sniffled, sitting up. And Wally did.

"You're not worried about me?"

Wally raised a non-existent eyebrow. "Well yeah, if you're crying in the dirt and hitting things I'll be concerned."

"But you don't think I'm...less capable? Just because of my being pregnant?"

Things seemed to click for the demon then, sitting down next to Frank. "Who told you that? No- I mean I've never been pregnant, but as far as I know that doesn't mean you can't do things."

"Exactly! But everyone acts like I suddenly can't, or I shouldn't in case...something happens, I guess. I don't know." Frank gripped on to the broken branch, picking away at its bark as they spoke. "First Eddie being too scared of letting me climb, then at Howdy's when he wouldn't let me lift the boxes, those I could sort of understand. But then Barbie, then Sally and even Julie..." he trailed off.

Wally seemed to think. "You want me to tell them to knock it off?" he offered. "If they won't listen to you, maybe they'll listen to me instead."

"Tch," Frank hissed. "That's the whole problem though. They won't listen to me! It's...it's like I don't even matter, my feelings don't matter, and all that's important is-"

"Frank..."

Frank and Wally both looked over to see their friends standing in the road. Julie, Sally, Barbie, and Eddie still breathing slightly hard from running towards the sound of his partner's yelling.

"Hello friends," Wally spoke, his usually cheerful greeting tinged right now with the slightest anger. "Frank was telling me about how you haven't been treating them very well."

"I'm sorry," Julie sobbed, quite visibly shocked & heartbroken. "I had no idea it would upset you that much."

"You would've if you'd listened!" Frank retorted. "I was trying to tell you, and you kept talking over me."

"We...we were only trying to help..." Sally piped up nervously, then winced at the glare shot her way. "Right, you're right though. It is... your baby, we shouldn't overstep your bounds like that."

Eddie slowly approached Frank, gently helping them back to his feet. "I guess...we're all just real excited for that right now," he said. "We wanna make sure that things go right."

"That doesn't mean-" Wally started, but Frank cut him off with a gentle wave. "It's ok, I can handle it." And now that things were fully out in the open, now that his blood had settled down from its boiling point, he could.

They sighed. "I know you mean well, but... it hurts. I'm still me! I can still do things! I promise I'm not as fragile as you think, even right now. I just...I need you all to trust me, and if something truly feels like it's a risk, I'll let you know, ok?"

Julie hugged him gently, checking first he was comfortable with touch right now. "I'm a terrible friend," she said. "I'm sorry."

"You're not, I promise." Frank squeezed her tight. All anger gone, he felt so tired in her arms, and glad to have those arms back to hold. "We're all new to this thing, and you're trying your best. Just...don't do it again, ok?"

They all nodded, still shuffling awkwardly. "Hey," the grey offered with a weak smile. "How about this? You let me pick all the rules for the next game."

"Ok!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[crowjack20]

Ullante post 4:the worldly knowledge

Glossary->

Griffon:used like people or folks, plural Griffons

Avetherian:the scientific name, like homo sapiens, plural avetherians

Roo:used like man or boy, masculine term for avus, plural is roos

Hen:used like girl or woman, feminine term for avus, plural is hens

Gryphus:name for pawed avus, plural is gryphus

Hippus, the name for hooves avus, plural is hippus

Harpy:the name for avus with hands(most don't know the difference between primates and non-primates with hands, so pseudo-harpies also are referred to as harpies), plural is harpies

Dromaeus:the name for (typically) beakless avus with clawed wings, often huge and have weird long tails, plural is dromaeus.

worldly details->

The Bushsand empire and the Tundrafrost empire are both in the early-to-mid iron age, the other kingdoms are in the middle of the bronze age.

Glass hasn't been invented yet.

Owning books or knowing how to write isn't common, but not rare, about 65% of the population knows how to write, and about 75% of the population owns books, 90% of the population knows how to read. books/most papers are usually parchment or papyrus, official records, birth certificates, contracts, written laws, ect are usually written on wood, stone, or clay tablets. Most writing utensils would be brushes, basic feather ink pens, or very basic charcoal pencils

Rudimentary explosives do exist, mostly in the form of leather bags or hard-leather balls or canteens overfilled with rendered animal fat(usually whale or seal blubber, but pork and beef grease will do) when doing large scale bombing(buildings and such) it'd either a be a big barrel of the grease. The most advanced personal weapons are crossbows and shootspears, while many hunters still prefer traditional bows, these other weapons are better with huge game(elephants, trunkos*, dinosaurs, hippos, moose, ect) and as weapons of war. There are two main types of crossbow, the warbow and the slaybow. The slaybow's mainly for hunting, being a more traditional kind of crossbow shooting bolts. The warbow is mainly a weapon of the battlefield, having larger barbed bolts with a heavier draw weight than other bows and crossbows. Shootspears can be described as a modified longspear, being handheld projectile launchers that use elastic bands and triggers to fire deadly mini-spears, small sharp-rocks, which load and fire one at a time(think single-shot rifles or slug shotguns) with elastic springs that release when the triggers pulled. As for large-scale weapons, catapults, titanbolt launchers, and barrel-bombs are common

Most fabrics can be found in the Eastern Empire, since harpies are the most dexterous and can actually make these things, but trade means that some fabric finds its way to other kingdoms, and a few harpies do live in the Bushsand empire so some fabric stores are found there as well. This also means that overall, leather garments are more common in the non-eastern empires

Advanced candies don't exist, however, things like fruits wrapped in honey, baked cacao beans, honey crystals mixed with fruit juice all exist along with honey and fruit

Dairy products such as milk, cheese, yogurt, and ice cream don't exist, mostly because it's weird to drink another animals milk when your own young don't suckle so it's never been thought of.

Avetherians are generally omnivores, with a little influence of their species half in their diet, but mostly based on kingdom and personal preference(ex:a vampire bat-vampire ground finch would consume blood, probably would eat other things more often. Or a otter-stork would love fish, but would eat other things)

There are other sophonts on Ullante, but they'll be revealed later...

Humans don't exist on Ullante itself, but there are some magic cave-portals that take you to earth(no, avus can't and don't use magic or know what it is)

Magic does exist on Ullante, but avus can't use it. The magic manifests itself in the cave-portals, enchanted items that are found throughout the continent, they cannot be made or destroyed, simply used, the magic also manifests in super-powered individuals.

All real world species of plants and animals are found here, as well as some creatures from Dylan Badja's Serina(bumblebadgers, squorks, canitheres, tribbats, grapplers, trunkos, carnackles, ect), tribbetheriums hamsters paradise(marewolves, tigerillas, ripperoos, rattiles, slaybers, hamyenas, lycanines, walkabies, rhinocheirids, ect), and Keenan Taylor's Kaimere(Nokutlak, rukel, bokodu, dire jackal, greater baboon lemur, ect).along with these beasts, there's also creatures that's gone extinct in the last two centuries(thylacine, dodo, passenger pigeon, Falkland islands wolf, Caspian tiger, ect). There are also some animals that are downright prehistoric, such as dinosaurs and ice age beasts, not many but some:sauropods, yi qi, ambopteryx, tyrannosaurs, spinosaurs, mammoths, smilodon, megaraptorids, and Madsoiids. Animals that won't be here are almost all molodonts and circaguadonts, the only exception to these are sawjaws

Where all the empires touch, there's an area 5 times the size of New York City where avus of all kinds mingle with no disturbance, and everyone mostly gets along, with bustling markets, diverse population. The place is called Alshoon

Avus classes->

Gryphus:avus with the mammal half of any extant pawed mammal(felines, canids, bears, most mustelids, anteaters, digging animals) and any extant bird, reside mostly in the Bushsand Empire

Hippus:avus with the mammal half of any extant hooved mammal(this means both the obvious, and the less obvious, like aardvarks, elephants, rhinos, hyraxes, and bandicoots) and any extant bird, reside mostly in the Savanah Empire

Harpy:avus with the mammal half of any primate and the bird half of any extant bird, reside mostly in the Eastern Empire

Pseudo-harpy:avus with the mammal half of any non-primate handed mammal(most rodents, some mustelids, most marsupials, and raccoons) and the bird half of any extant bird, reside mostly in the Eastern Empire(they're called harpies because they don't see the difference between a primate and any other mammal with hands)

Dromaeus:avus with the mammal half of any extinct mammal and the bird half of any maniraptoran dinosaur, reside mostly in the Tundrafrost Empire

Palaeus:avus with the mammal half of any extinct mammal and the bird half of any extinct bird, reside in Alshoon

Kingdoms->

Bushsand Empire:home of the gryphus

Current monarch:Queen Suture

Capital:Andiru

The Bushsand empire's a land of deserts, badlands, canyons, and dunes occupying most of the western parts of the continent. They are in allegiance with the dromaeus of the Tundrafrost Empire.

Taxes:anyone who rents land pays a biannual tax to whoever they bought it from, if it's the land was bought from a royal, than a monthly tax. Payment is usually money, but could also be goods or labor, it depends on the owners preference. If you own land, none of these things matter and it's just a small annual tax.

Common exports:stone(lots of quarries and mines, so stone is common), leather and meats(hunting is a very common sport/occupations there), and gemstones(natural byproduct of mining, plus it's plentiful in the badlands)

Food:

Tundrafrost Empire:home of the dromaeus

Current monarch:Emperor Core

Capital:Danyix

The Tundrafrost Empire is a land of cold ice and snow to the north of the continent, often with blizzards lasting days, snowing 9 months a year. They're in allegiance with the gryphus of the Bushsand Empire

Taxes:anyone who rents land pays an annual tax, but if bought from someone of importance(royal guard, infamous war veteran, ect.), than a biannual tax. Payments usually money or labor, depends on preference. If land is owned, then just a small annual tax.

Common exports:leather and meats, water, precious metals, furs, gemstones, and lumber(lots of forests in the southern woods)

Eastern Empire:home of the harpies

Current monarch:King Locustpine

Capital:Ourukh

The Eastern Empire's a massive stretch of forest that lies on the eastern edge of the continent, with temperate woods in the south, jungle in the middle, receding to cold pine woods up north. The kingdom has 2 very significant social classes:hightrees, the rich elite 1st class that live in expensive big houses up in the canopy, and the groundlows, the ghetto downhome 2nd class that live in shacks and cabins

Taxes:any hightree who bought or rents an estate from an average hightree pays an annual tax of money or labor. Any hightree who bought or rents land from a military official, a council official, or a royal pays a monthly tax of money. Any groundlow that bought or rents land from a hightree pays a huge monthly tax of money, and a sales tax on food, materials, and fabrics(also huge)

Common exports:lumber, fabrics(silk, cotton, and wool), seafood, gemstones, and poultry.

Savanna Empire:home of the hippus

Current monarch: Queen Stampede

Capital: Balamn

The Savanna Empire's a relatively average sized kingdom mostly along the southwest of the continent, being a terrain of grasslands, prairies, rolling hills, and lowlands.

Taxes: if land is rented, there's a small bimonthly tax of money or goods, but if bought from someone of importance(barons, big-time businessfolk, veterans, etc) it's a slightly larger monthly tax. If land is owned to begin with, then a medial trimonthly tax

Common exports: straw, hay, grains, beef, pork, mutton, and leather

[giddyap-bioez]

So Happy for Mr. Cool Beans....

Hello!

Meet my guy….Cool Beans, a 10 year old Rocky Mountain x Quarter Horse pony.

This last year Beans was clearly having some digestion issues.  His coat had patches where he had rubbed down to the skin, his hooves were VERY slow growing, with little cracks developing, and he was having chronic free fecal water issues. The fecal water issue would be mitigated with BioSponge*…. but always came back. 

I did some research and started him on a Chia & Herb product that could be fed as a supplement, since Omega3 are important. His coat looked great, but the fecal water remained….     I contacted BioEZ Health/Giddyap about my experience, and questioned the difference between VF-Advanced BioEZ® and Original Bio-EZ® powders.  They suggested VF-Advanced BioEZ® formula for the fecal water issue, and graciously sent a free sample Jar of VF-Advanced BioEZ® powder to test and observe, along with my purchase of Original BioEZ®   Sidebar: At the time, we were packing for our move, and I wasn't able to feed either powder the recommended 2x/day. My barn is too far away, and I rely on others at the stable where grain/supplements are fed 1x/day. However, his fecal water issue was clearly a problem, and it appeared he was also having sweet itch issues.

In October, we moved and I was closer to oversee his feedings. Beans started growing his winter coat, and I was able to add 3/4 scoop of Original BioEZ® 2x/day with the Chia & Herbs product that was fed 1x/day. Nothing else changed in his diet…. but He Sure Did!

The dandruff has gone away, he has stopped chewing on wood in his stall, and those forage changes that usually wreck him ( loose stool ) will clear up within a day or two. Even the odd 1x/month fecal water issues he would get around ‘full moon’ have diminished. 

I honestly attribute these changes to Digestive Enzymes that are in the BioEZ® products. Or maybe it’s the Probiotics��.what I know is…. it works ! It seems he is actually absorbing nutrients from the foods he is getting! ( editor: yes, he is )

Sorry I don’t have photos of all the changes he has made since he started Original Bio-EZ® in October…..  But, its great to see him standing more compact and like a horse not stretched out like a sausage.

I love seeing him improving. We aren't done with this transformation, that is for sure…. but the road ahead looks so much better!  THANK YOU  Melissa in California January 2025

Addendum: I’ve been giving Beans the VF-Advanced BioEZ® formula for a few weeks now. 3/4 scoop @ 1x/day. The residual fecal water issues have almost completely disappeared.

He has a few physical challenges, rehabbing from a dysfunctional psoas and injured stifle since August. Prior to starting VF-Advanced BioEZ®, when he had a pain flare-up, the fecal water issue would start to reappear. Nothing as dramatic as prior to starting Original Bio-EZ® but still noticeable. 

This month he had a slight rehab set-back…. but I didn't see the fecal water return. Only seeing it when doing emotionally-challenging work (confronting fears of separation in the trailer) But once he settles - the extra water doesn't come back. Huge progress!

THANK YOU THANK YOU

#VFAdvancedBioEzWorks #BioEZ #FWS #EquineDigestiveHealth

*Registered Trademark of Platinum Performance Products ( Editor: Their BioSponge® works better when ‘paired’ with Our BioEZ® )

[shaaknaa]

I hope this isn't too far afield but pirates leads to One Piece, which I believe is the longest running piece of pirate media ever. And while the author has said he's only allowing 1 hook, peg-leg, and eye patch each for the *entire* series (Crocodile and Zeff for the first two. There's a theory on Doflamingo but nothing confirmed) that doesn't stop him from prividing The Rep, even if the disabilities are fantastical. I will restrict myself to Strawhats.

1. Franky is a cyborg. He *must* consume cola as a fuel source. Other drinks change his personality. That is medication. Furthermore, after the time-skip when he makes himself bigger and better, he added a second pair of tiny hand for detail work. Which means the big hands are *bad* at detail work.

2. Brook doesn't have flesh. The most plot relevant thing with that is that he can only be healed with milk and otherwise does not heal naturally. However, people also just... assume he's dead when he's merely unconscious. So far that's only screwed over enemies but if a would-be rescuer assumes he's dead already they might not save him until it's too late.

3. Chopper is explicitly worse at surgery because he has hooves. His meds had a possibility of turning him into a big scary rage machine if he took too much.

4. Usopp is canonically so good at managing his severe anxiety and depression, that an attack that makes everyone else say shit like "I should be reborn as a maggot" does *nothing* to him, implying that is his default state. That boy needs some prescription chill pills.

5. I'm pretty sure Luffy is self-medicating his ADHD with adventure. He *cannot* hold a normal ass job as a dishwasher. It was a disaster. He also requires more food to function, something that gets them all into trouble regularly and brings him into conflict with Sanji.

6. Speaking of Sanji, he's the only character with a Disability ArcTM. It's an Uno Reverse Disability Arc (he's the "normal" one among super powered siblings) but it's right there. He even has an older sister whose better at passing than him and got locked away to hide the shame of his existence. So while he isn't physically disabled, he's got the CPTSD that comes from *being* disabled, which is it's own disability.

Now, we transition to the trauma properly. Every single one of these fuckers is traumatized. The ones effected in a plot-related way the most are:

Nami, who's past with money has become so ingrained that she compulsivly exploits everyone when she gets the chance.

Sanji, who not only has self-worth issues from the above, but is damn near incapable of wasting food or leaving someone hungry even if it gets him into shit.

Robin, who attempted suicide by cop.

Zoro and Luffy who both have had flashbacks on screen. Zoro's involving Kuma, and Luffy in Onigashima involving the Red Bean Soup.

And that is all just scratching the surface and only for the main crew. Don't get me started on the Yonko.

Is there disability rep in RUNNING CLOSE TO THE WIND? It seems like pirate books get overlooked for how often they show characters with disabilities.

Jesus christ okay listen. You've activated my trap card, because YES EXACTLY. Disability is one of the CORE TROPES of any pirate story -- is it even a real pirate crew if there aren't people missing some of their bits? And it's not just side characters, is it! Is a pirate captain even a proper captain without a peg-leg, a hook, or an eyepatch?

And yet when we see these characters, or at least when I see these characters, my brain does not register them into the category of "oh, here is a Disabled Character". Like it is wonderful that we are seeing more disability representation in media these days but... It's often not very satisfying, is it? They're like "Here is a very carefully presented Character In A Wheelchair So You Know She Is Disabled-Disabled 😌" and there are all of these rules this character has to follow to be """""properly"""" disabled in exactly one specific way with no variations, and always there is an Issue with her (almost always a woman??) ability to navigate her wheelchair through the landscape so that the media can Prove They Are Being So Thoughtful And Aware Of The Difficulties.

I don't know about you, but for me it always sort of smacks of insincerity. Or like, the overtly intentional and deliberate sincerity, which then comes across as a bit unnatural and uncanny valley. We as the audience are not permitted to simply experience this character as a person, we are forced by the deliberateness of the narrative to experience her as a Disabled Person. Which.... Sure, that's better than not having any disabled representation at all, but there's SO MUCH FURTHER we could go with it! But the first step is for the media creator/s to stop going "look, a Disabled Person [delicate gasp] Wow she's so brave" as if she's a fucking zoo exhibit and start going "look, a Person. she's disabled, and has some other personality traits and hobbies as well."

(I feel like we also went through this journey with Strong Female Characters too, didn't we? Where we had all of these weirdly awkward """sincere"""" attempts at people writing Strong Female Characters and Oooh She Is So Strong, And Ooh Her Femaleness, She Grew Up With Brothers... But that was not what we wanted, we wanted the writers to chill out and just write a woman who was a PERSON and stop making it weird.)

Anyway, back to pirates, because I think we've really been overlooking pirate media for the fact that the disability rep is just right out there in plain sight, and it's so normalized that it would be weirder if it WASN'T there, and the media creator isn't loudly trying to win brownie points for being Virtuous And Inclusive™. (And just because tumblr reading comprehension is piss poor sometimes: yes, there's a difference between trying to be virtuous and inclusive and trying to be Virtuous And Inclusive™, and I bet you can recognize it when you see it.)

Pirate media doesn't make it weird! Pirate media doesn't try to camouflage the fact that a character is disabled ("Yar, and here's No-Legs Bob, on account o' he's got no legs, that'll teach 'im to make jokes like he's pretending to fuck the cannon" "somebody hold me up and i'll fuck the cannon again" "[raucous laughter throughout the whole crew]") nor does it deny that their disability causes problems sometimes (the ol' "peg-leg got stuck in a knothole in the deck" gag, or the classic "whoops, tried to stab someone with my hook hand but they dodged and it got embedded in the planks" gambit). Pirate media offers a huge VARIETY of disabilities too, instead of just One Token Wheelchair User -- you've got people with prosthetic limbs, you've got people partially or fully blind or deaf, you've got people who are mute (and also btw look at this amazing parrot or monkey they have, it killed a man once), you've got elderly people who aren't quite as spry as they once were but oooh they Know The Sea like nobody else, you've got people who struggle a lot with their disability and need extra help and support AND people who are not slowed down at all and just livin' their life the way they do.

Y'know. Actual diversity.

Also the only time pirate media draws deliberate attention to the disability is 1) if there's a cool story behind it that is somehow relevant to the plot ("[captain looking balefully at his hook hand] me hand was bitten off by a WHALE.... i've been chasing that whale for the last forty years....") or 2) if it provides a fun way to show the culture and community of the crew as a whole (see the No-Legs Bob example, above). Also notice that in pirate media, you are allowed to directly address the disability and make a harmless, casual joke about it ("No-Legs Bob" again) and it doesn't feel mean or weird, it's just.... descriptive. It's just the way that pirates be. Yep. No-Legs Bob ain't got no legs. So what? It is there in his name and yet it still doesn't feel like it's the only thing about him.

The vibes are just.... UTTERLY DIFFERENT from the disability rep i've seen in other media. And so i think we should be looking at pirate media more and striving to emulate it when it comes to disability rep, because THERE'S SOMETHING HERE, they're doing something INTERESTING, there is something worth thinking about and studying, what are they doing and how are they doing it and how can we replicate that in other things? (Also, even real life pirates were better about disability than many other folks -- they had PENSIONS for crew members who couldn't work anymore.)

ANYWAY back to your question of whether there is disability rep in Running Close to the Wind.

Short answer: yes. Long answer: do you want a whole inventory?

Captain Teveri has a prosthetic eye (it's covered in gold leaf, inspired by this Tumblr Heritage post which I'm sure we have all seen). Also facial scarring, which is not really a disability but still does not get a whole lot of representation.

Many of the crew have hook-hands or peg-legs

Avra says you are not a real pirate until you are missing some of your bits, and makes some joke about how he only has a Weird Toe or something

A side character, Skully (so called because he has a hobby of carving skulls in things and is currently working on carving a GIANT skull into the face of the cliff overlooking the entrance to the pirate cove, because obviously every pirate cove is required by the Trope Laws to have a skull cliff but my question was WHO PUT IT THERE? answer: this guy), has two peg-legs and a hook hand and still goes abseiling by himself to carve the skull onto the cliff, nbd nbd. Probably got the best abs in the book, but tragically Avra, the POV character, did not think to notice them

Elderly grandmother in a wheelchair who threatens to stab Julian the Super Hot Monk through the ear with a knitting needle

Julian is described as standing out from everyone else explicitly because he's NOT missing any bits and that's odd (comes kinda close to missing some bits, though, he plays around with alchemical explosives at one point. man's on track to be missing a couple fingers sooner or later, so just... y'know, let him cook, trust the process, he's still growing as a person)

(this one is a joke) arguably Avra's Weird Luck Thing could count as some kind of chronic illness, considering that it is a thing which materially affects his life and which he does not have control over and cannot predict when it will come into affect. DISCUSS. (again: a joke)

[steps gingerly off soapbox] thank you for coming to my TED talk

(Also: RUNNING CLOSE TO THE WIND comes out in ten days on June 11th! It's a comedic fantasy novel about queer pirates stealing and trying to find a buyer for the most valuable secret in the world and fighting back against oppressive institutional powers! You can read a review of it here and the first chapter of it here, and you can preorder it here.)

[bobelblogger]

Sultry Sorceress Ch ??  Big Fat Giant Wedding

Magna Milfrah of Frostfoot Clan Monk Chadus of Icebreaker Clan

Prima Zilah of Icebreaker Clan

Primar Chodin of Frostfoot Clan

Queen Nymphoria of Hedonia

Empress Tamora of Cytheria

Lady Diana (Nadia) of Fornicalia

Sir Pocy (Pussy) of Fornicalia

Mark MacMacha

Princess Cadence 

Nicolette Belladonna of Hedonia

Staby Turclonak

Thirty unconscious men and ten women lay tossed about the bed chamber like dolls in a untidy playroom.

Over the last three nights the best of the whore houses in the capital had been assembled and of those the most well endowed toys had been selected, some were fun, others broke too easily, didn't matter, one time with her was more than they deserved.

A oval font of bubbly rose petal strewn warm water awaited as a sheen robed woman sauntered through the silk curtain, two silver cherub statues one with a tray of bathing oils and skin creams the other held assorted lufas, sponges and combs for the sovereign to pick out which to use.

Perfectly primed pearly toes swirled the water to test, finding it satisfying, disrobed and glided into the foam mounds and lay spread eagle, nearby a harpist and flute duo began their harmony as crowds of people outside shouted to be heard.

"Such times and such measures taken to secure my throne, I should end the violence---not."

Horns sounding and the clatter of hooves on cobbled stone meant a crackdown, rubbing her heels together and soaping her breasts and lady bits, at first her contentment was broken by the noise, second her peace was breached by a door opening as a page boy rushed in with scrolls out of breath.

"Your Most Illustrious Angelic Majestic Royal Highness Empress Tamora, Mark was seen with Princess Cadence on-"

She sat up as the page tripped on his own feet, slid across the golden inlaid marble floor and into the water, he heroically preserved the scrolls above the water with one hand treading with the other.

Her mood and bath time ruined, snatched the parchments from him and with her free hand held him under as she eyed one fervently.

Mark MacMacha kidnapper, murderer, robber, white male, seen on ship Isebourg to Giant country with Princess Cadence as hostage in tow, to the Empress of Cytheria.

Then she eyed the other.

Magna Milfrah of Clan Frostfoot cordially invites you to the marriage of Primar Chodin Frostfoot and Prima Zilah Icebreaker in the Mountains of Giant country, the dress code is gray, light blue or teal, no whites or creams, no pets or weapons. Bring gift from list on back.

Letting the clumsy boy surface sputtering and coughing up water, Empress Tamora shouted demands.

"Get my winter wardrobe out, hail the fastest ship in the port to dock at the royal pier, bring my tailor and hair stylist, now!"

Having heard all present ran out to complete her tasks, she rose like a demigoddess of perfect erotic beauty as water trickled down her sublime and shimmering form, her grandiose globes bounced and rear swayed as the candle light off the chandelier made her glow, pussy hair gone ere faint blond fuzz in a T shape as she wrapped her curls in rollers and a towel and tied her sheen robe.

"I'll have my runaway daughter and her studly dwarf too, Mroc be praised." She said the last bit with lust and longing then seductively strutted off to be deified.

----

Bound in a cozy velvet fur lined bra and thong set, cinnamon legs clad in thick silk thigh high stockings and sock slippers, magic heating be damned it was colder than ice golem cock, but enjoyable if you booked the captain's cabin above the boilers, marveling at your own drop dead gorgeous curves and sensual lips sipping coca bean nectar of warmth while modelling dresses in the mirror.

"Captain, which do you think would look better, this one or this one?" donned an exquisite flowing gown of pearl gray brocade with silver lacing centered around a pearl studded silver broach, gray elbow length gloves and solid silver roses to affix in one's hair.

"Or do you prefer the piece de renaissance, my own designed of meteorite gems." Posing yet another dress.

It's glory shined in fading baby blue as the captains mostly covered eyes saw only the sparkle of hundreds of gemstones matching formations of distant constellations amid bigger rounded crystals as suns, with it a wire hairpiece inlaid the lunar cycle in milk-glass with sparkly heels to match.

"I am in favour by finery to the former, but the latter blinds my eyes like beams of beauty."

"So the sparkly one, a future heirs gift or for my future wedding." Nymphoria said sipping with sultry sass.

"Yes, it's a work of the highest quality and design." Spoken amid eye rubbing and blinking. 

----

Nicolette tried the door to what she thought was the room, most of the doors looked the same and the words weren't in any language she spoke or read, she'd left to use the toliet but afterward got turned around, nobody was still up to go banging on random doors, an ever present chill made her fox fur nightie clad tits hard as diamonds.

Her heating magic kept her from becoming a erotic ice statue, but she had to be awake to focus it, aside from interval dozes she was tired and seasick and fucking cold, but the door wouldn't budge, not for lack of trying the latch, apparently her efforts stirred someone from rest who stuck their head out into the corridor, a young blond, emerald eyes, freckled pale and stunning semi divinely looks.

"Who's walking the corridor at such an hour, are you lost?" She sounded concerned and interested not angry.

"I'm not lost, just cold and needed the loo, my rooms heating must be broken." She fibbed with a blush full face.

"Well ours works, we've got two beds here, why don't you join our party for tonight?"

From within the room a hunky male voice called out above the muffled moan of a female.

"Cady, Staby is waiting for you to make the top of the tower, I'm itching to-." cut off.

"Coming Mac, I'm inviting a fourth in our room, we cool?" She asked and he replied "Yeah, sure, cool, whatever."

"Thank you, may I borrow a heavy cloak and a mirror?" Nicolette asked.

"Come in, I have both those things."

----

Nearly any doorknob or bedpost would do, Pussy needed to get bred in the worst way, her mistress for the last two days was conjuring some sexual potion or object and Lily was making sure Nadia didn't over do it and cum herself to death, Pad was heading off to the book store getting more dirty picture books,

"Hmmmm, little Paddy, surely that beef club he's lugging could be quite satisfying, Pecker-Packet." 

Grinning as her cat form took over and she bounded over the castles garden wall and followed the boy as he took the road by the river over the toll bridge past a long since cleared traveler camp and to the local bookshop. 

The door sign said no pets, 'Well screw that I can't wait for my dose of dongle-'

A wooden ball hit the ground near as Pussy turned to see it was a mutt, or rather a mutt with a leash that led to a kid, it saw her as the kid let him loose and she ran for her life, through an alley over crates and barrels of rubbish across a cobbled street just as a rider was rushing by on horseback, spooking the beast so it jumped over her and a few sealed letters fell from his saddlebags, the rider cursed but didn't notice it and went on.

Pussy turned back into her nubile body and would have torn the mutt to bits, a whistle made it stop and run away.

"Things I do for lust, life is a fucking divine comedy." At her bare feet the letters "What's this."

A deft swipe seized both and tore them open, reading the first with bemusement.

This is the result of the test for paternity, your the father, have fun telling him, next time pull out douchenut.

Little more than two lines, she crumpled it and read the next.

Magna Milfrah of Clan Frostfoot cordially invites you to the marriage of Primar Chodin Frostfoot and Prima Zilah Icebreaker in the Mountains of Giant country, the dress code is gray, light blue or teal, no whites or creams, no pets or weapons. Bring gift from list on back.

'Bingo, this'll get Nadia's attention and get me some play time with my Lil' sex kitten.'

Not bothering to turn back into a silky cat, sprinted down the alley and back past the bookstore down the road to the toll bridge and traveler camp by the river up onto the wall did a backflip off it into the courtyard and up the stairs to Nadia's study.

A large metal door with a half dozen locks on it and a dozen written signs said fuck off I'm fucking.

Transforming into poisonous mist under the crack and reformed into a supple girl of age with spikey hair flexing ears and twitchy tail. 

Some things can't be unseen, unless the sight is so horrendous your mind blocks it or buries it deep inside, the sheer amount that was inside Nadia was more than even Pussy Pocket could fathom and she had orgies with the demons and less thrilling thralls in Hell.

Buried down to her ankles inside Nadia's jay-jay Lily squirming around the distended stomach area.

"Rr grt rrt." From inside the belly moved as a patch of blond hair pushed out, then a head and neck then out  tumbled Lillian Toad in a puddle of mess.

"Its a girl, welcome to life, do we know who's the father?" Pussy shouted in mock celebration, slinking toward the birth batter bathed blond intending to lick her clean and more.

"If I didn't know your kinks and every inch a you I'd say being born is kind of new on the list." She put a hand on Lilys spunk frosted head, looking down at the blue oval shape item in her lap with glittery eyes. "Let me see it."

"Take it you feline freak, I did my part, eat a bowl of ass and wash it down with a goblet of jerk juice."

Getting up tossed it at Pussy then sashyed out the room and slammed the door.

"I am what I was born to be!" Pussy looked at the dripping egg and thought of jamming it up Lilly's ass.

'She'll come around, fucking sexy little cunt.' returning to her task hopped onto Nadia's empress size harpy feather bed cheerfully.

"I've found our next sexcation destination, purrfect for two of us to crash a party and slam some exotic cocks."

Nadia lay looking high and hungover panting like a bred mare. 'a whiff of muff treat will do the trick.'

Being a feline succubus with especially strong pheromones when hyper aroused could knock out a clan of ogres or wake a centuries asleep mountains spirit if caught downwind, Up her mistresses red valley through twin titty pass then spun around and squatted snuggly over her mouth and nose.

Stirring little by little a skillful tongue started lapping at her catfishy clit and warm breath tickled her taint, Pussypocket meowed with languid breath as her claws drew in time with her grind as she pinched, poked, probed, pricked and pawed both bulky milkjugs.

Up to now her head was in control, now her cooze took the reins whipping her into a feral frenzy, bucking like a jockey in the breeders cup spun around grabbing fistfuls of red hair yanking it so roughly the headboard split and the bed frame rocked surfing violent cresting waves of pleasure as Pussy neared climax her tail got tugged catapulting her cheap sack of ass into the canopy.

Tangled in a web of drape pull cords she still came ful circle onto the redhead in a torrent of hot demonic rain.

"Pussy, what a horny slattern you are, now my crystal hatching and astral orgy are both failures."

Slowly Nadia got up scooping some of the sizzling jizzum into her mouth and shook the rest off her resplendent form.

"I've eaten nothing but flameberries and spiced rum for two days to purge that egg from my body, didn't work."

Still straining against the cords digging into her skin every time she moved Pussy didn't say a word, forgetting in her post nut bliss she could change shape.

"But it did make the perfect aphrodisiac and time for Lily to retrieve it as I tripped giant balls on a parallel plane."

"Speaking of giants and balls I've found a invitation." Pointed to the paper by where the blue luminous orb laid.

Coming to the letter on the floor, Nadia opened and stained with lust droplets, picked it up to read.

Magna Milfrah of Clan Frostfoot cordially invites you to the marriage of Primar Chodin Frostfoot and Prima Zilah Icebreaker in the Mountains of Giant country, the dress code is gray, light blue or teal, no whites or creams, no pets or weapons. Bring gift from list on back.

"A giant wedding, this was your idea for us?" Walking to and stood under the canopy as she snapped her fingers.

Pussypocket felt her whole body shrink and fall it seemed for minutes as the bed finally met her face and bounded off into the arms of Nadia who erstwhile had transformed her into a cat, found herself unable or willing to turn back.

"Oh pretty pussy oh pussy my love what a lustful pussy you are." She lulled stroking her chin and ears gingerly as her body healed both from face fuck fog and expelling the crystal egg, time for sauna with a side of hot play.

-----------

"Try the emerald studded gown, it's a one off looking seductive and alurring is the main idea, regality and refinement come second if everyone's staring at your milk jugs and ass so just try it."

"If that's the case your wearing what I pick so I stand out, don't care who'll be there, I'm making fashion history."

Gray silk tights gray silk frilly shirt a flaired collar with bells, a wide brim gray velvet hat with green and blue bollo feathers a silk doublet in sky blue matched boots with leather wings poking out the back, a silk sash of emerald at the waist.

"I look like a lords gay tailor, why do you even have shit this size in the closet?"

"Well if a dwarf or halfling caught my eye I wanted a trophy from them." Nadia snarked as she slipped into a diamond studded gromithil bikini set, pays to be protected, costed a fuck ton of gold and favours to get it made.

"From where do we hail, upper, mid or lower?" said Pussy in her concept of degrees and levels of the underworld.

Nadia made a hand wave and a crude portrait of an stacked hunkish man topped with a mane of smooth brown silk hanging to his chiseled abs and hardly constrained pecks of iron clad in chainmail as he held aloft the heads of a wyvern and it's rider.

"Carnald of Fornicalia, sex dreams totally recall he was quite the inarticulate chieftain of an island city state, he took as servants every homes women and kept any visitors to the land for fun in his arena."

"I was ship wrecked seeking a lost treasure and on the beach was set upon by a horde of cucked husbands, fathers and suitors who wanted me as a trade for their women, seeing as no male could out man him and every female was his bitch, it was a battle of minds."

"So I availed him and within minutes of meeting he wanted my body and wouldn't take no for a reply."

"You see he longed for a son but his women only gave him daughters, I'd agreed to fix his problem for a price."

"He took me to dinner and took me on the dinner table like a stuffed centrepiece in front of all sixty nine women who started jilling off out of envy and horniness and the pregnant ones started going into labour, by dawn four in five were knocked up or knocked out and those that gave birth half were boys."

"If I cared to let him know I spiked the food with baby quickening and his beer-milk with sperm altering elixir, he honored me M'Lady and any son I bore by him a Sir of Fornicalia, gave me a fancy baton and medallion and lands."

"I may still if he hasn't been overthrown by his own children or wives or subjects in or jumped into the sea, in plain terms I'm a noble by title and I shall go to this shindig as one."

"What do we bring as a gift?"

-------

She made statues of the stylists, gifted the tailor a life time trip to the men's club.

Her royal vessel Empress was impounded by the Trade Shipping Union after six of her daughter's sailed it drunk crashed into two piers then fled and she refused the duty fee, those fuckers would regret making her shit list.

Aboard the Longspear now sporting a very frozen figurehead of the naked Captain Whitestache who refused her request to sail south faster, his first mate took over and now in half the time was approaching the bay off the  coast at the barely noticeable cost of two crew and a barge tiller who was too slow to move.

She wore the captains hat and parka while using her index finger and thumb to compel the minds of the crew to work in blizzard conditions.

A smooth volcanic form thrust above the waves like a skinny dipping titans erection doing backstroke, atop the tip blazed a beacon to light the bay, drifting icebergs and compass skewing fields provided hazards a plenty to a ship besides running aground or collisions.

In no less than the time it took to divorce a shrimp cock husband on wedding night, the fog parted as the enormous bladed bow of a bigger vessel battered through the froth right for their craft and not much later plowed through it, quick thinking Tamora spied the anchor chain and magic assist jumped to the ship as the halves of Longspear set adrift and plunged below shortly after.

"Get fucked Sea God, I'll not be your brine bride today." Climbing the chain read the name in big letters on the bow.

ISEBOURG, inside her perfect breast her black heart skipped a beat and her immaculate eyelashes fluttered.

Vaulting on deck Tamora sauntered over to a hatch and unsealed it with a bit of magic, going invisible was an option but less appealing to her vain nature, a form flawless as hers demanded every sighted eye to bear witness.

Amid icy breathing through corridors she sleuthed and realized her informer hadn't actually given the room they were in, undoubtedly they boarded under fake names and in disguises, in a ship this big searching rooms would take hours.

'I must watch and wait for my prizes, if anything I'll know their voices and looks. In time may as well relive cravings.'

Tamora fantasized of Mark sealed in a box with holes to shit and eat, only his ramrod poking out to impale herself. Cadence spread on Mroc's altar throttled and lifeless as he feasted on her soul giving Tamora everlasting youth, both their clothing used as fuel to melt her staff and his claymore into dildo molds of his cock as gifts to her other daughters.

Inside her mind swam in the neurotic ocean of pleasure as tugging tide of tangible bliss pulled her deeper toward a huge pink clam she dove for out of breath it opened she grabbed its rainbow pearl and came so hard she burst into pieces.

Her inner thighs and legs glossed with jill juice as her nipples leaked milk icicles down her parted parka bared chest, hovered hands on her mound over and over drunk from her vision of victory, It was in that state she scarcely heard the midday gong sound and cabin doors began to open with passengers eager for lunch and to see the shore, she stood up straightened her outfit a bit and blended into the throng of folk.

A halfling crew member in a fruity yet adorable white uniform and pom hat strode by with a book in hand, she deftly stunned him and took it while blowing a kiss that broke the trance as soon he shrugged and moved on.

She hid the book in her bountiful breasts and kept walking, internally pleased and externally concealing her glee.

In the stairwell she flipped open the book and cast a transliteration charm to find her quarry.

Cargo Manifest, Pet Storage, Crew Rolls, Coal Stores, Passengers here we go, under her own name, Staby.

Portside, Deck B, Room O eighteen, she couldn't wait for the right time, ready or not here I cum."

Quick as her pristine legs could go found the right deck and side of the ship, shortly found the room number

Pink clercist cloak gold blond tresses amid a custom pin she had given Cadence on her fifth nameday, it was her.

A quick binding charm invisibly shackled her hands tied her tongue and made her dizzy, quickly grabbed and tossed the catch over her shoulder, it appeared like a parent holding their sleeping kid as Tamora giddily walked through the corridor to an aclove and down a hatch way, Cadence was squirming and trying to speak, passing a few crew

--------

A few minutes earlier.

"Wait for it, wait for it wait---ah there's the cumbardment, Wombville population one bastard."

"I said warn me, I'm not having a baby Mac, if anything I'm more than ten years from wanting a baby."

"Staby if I warned you it wouldn't be a surprise, just clean yourself up and I'll get Cady to eat your ass."

"I think Cady is busy with our new friend in the closet, what did she say her name was?" Staby jested.

"Don't know, mostly I don't want to know and if I did I'd have asked so I'd say dunno don't care."

"You really are an asshat sometimes, get me some grub and drink or I'll cork your anus with iron plug."

"Good luck with that, I'm going because I need some air and to lunch, I'll bring bacon." Mark fastened his kilt and took his claymore with him out the room.

-------

Riding a silver inlaid ultrafast broom two persons one tall redhead and one small blackmaned with a thick mustache traded good humor insults at the other while the pole vibrated their clits so erogenously they came twenty times in the past hour alone, being soul bonded felt the others bliss and reflected it back.

Up and over upon a cloud a rather large individual in fancy robes stood rolling and unrolling a rug or carpet.

"He seems like he's in need, what are the odds he's a Giantese as well, we should arrive with him as more cover."

Pussy floated her idea as her claws lightly gripped Nadia's thighs as her clam vice clamped the broom stick.

"You just want some megadong relief for the throb in your clenched ass, Okay we'll stop to help." Nadia muttered.

Lightly landing on the fluffy cloud, Nadia cast a charm to tread as a feather, Pussy's boot wings carried her aloft

Approaching the tall traveler who appeared garbed in simple robes of radiant colors, bald and barefoot.

"Monk Chadus of Minstrel Monastery, I perform at any ceremony barring unholy ones, rites and rhythm united."

He pronounced with an divine aura and without turning to meet them, but it was as if he did.

"You by chance traveling to a wedding in giant country?" Pussy mentioned in her best fobbish accent.

"My sibling Prima Zillah, I'm officiating the union, what business do you purport to have there?" He stoically asked.

"Yes our host is a Giantese of that name, her betrothed is Chodin, we noticed your plight and want to help."

"I'm Lady Diana and he is my partner Sir Pocy of Fornicalia, we'll help with your rug and accompany you along."

"Well, The charm on it ran out before I could make it, the closest is ten miles that a way and

[theashleymatt]

What to do When the Head Grows Back

Imagine, if you will, a group of sisters as they roll a headless body into a gaping grave dug on the grounds of a pictorial countryside cottage.  Hold that image close, know that we’ll get there soon enough.

It’s lashing outside today. I see the hairy trolls in the backyard sheltering under giant toadstools. I try not to think of how damp they must feel.  I break a nail on a tin of beans I open for soup. This bothers me more than the trolls, who I know can see me looking at them.

To get my mind off the damp and sad and cold trolls, I go to my study where I find solace in the goats and the swans and the chicks. Nested in their cabinets are all manner of billed, flippered and hooved creatures. I unlock and open one of the glass-fronted cabinets, the largest in the dank and dusty room – I must ask Gerty to stop shedding so much skin in here – I open the cabinet to pet little Ozzy.  Her coat is still bloody from the day she was hit at the cross walk between Ossington and Marshall. Hit square in the neck, must have broken on impact. I’m sad for her still. I wish the driver had met as tragic a death.  The blood on Ozzy wasn’t from the first impact.  No, it was from when an 18-wheeler coming the other direction didn’t stop and ran poor Ozzy over, smooshing her already dead deer body.  Her intestines and stomach popped out like the eye from a socket, they did. The taxidermist tried to tell me the blood would attract pests if they didn’t wash the fur. I told them I could handle the pests. It’s the trolls I have trouble with.  No, the blood stays. I don’t want to re-write history. That would be dishonorable to good, lovely, innocent Ozzy.  I dust Ozzy’s hooves and thumb her ears.  I look in to her fake glass eyes and think I see someone, something looking back at me. Her long-departed soul?  Really, I think I see a reflection.  Someone behind me. I don’t want to break the spell Ozzy has over me right now so don’t turn to see if there’s anyone there, ready to bludgeon me or tickle me under the armpits. Instead, I kiss the bloody fur of Ozzy and close the door to her glass-fronted forever home and move to the smallest door in the room. Just big enough for a sightless, defenseless mole. The rain is still coming down hard. There is a sense we could all be washed away and I’m okay with that. The nervous feeling, that is. Pit-of-the-stomach fear that I swallow and drink down like something bitter.

As I move to the smallest door in the room I pass by my prized possessions. My western European mallard from 1815, stunned to death by the cannons of the last Napoleonic war. Stuffed in the United Kingdom of the Netherlands and acquired in 1984 by my beloved nanny Rosemond and gifted to me on her deathbed. I pass by the last osprey to have been shot in England. Proudly displayed since 1847 and gifted to my grandfather in 1918 when its owner was clearing house and deserting his country in its most troubled time of need. The coward. England needed drag queens more than ever then. He and his fringe dresses and platforms, high-tailed it to the French Rivera. I’m not sure he fared very well there, but the murdered osprey at least got a safe home. 

I smell something off before I see what’s wrong in the picture. There is a burnt scent, of something delicious, sweet and spicey, with an undertone of boozy shit.  After I smell the smell, I see the smallest door in the room has been pried open, its tiny brass lock bent out of shape. I open the wooden door on my tiny, defenseless mole home and see the cavity filled with the wrong things.  I see a pile of figs and a coiled shit sitting in a puddle of whiskey, rather than what should be there.  Feet.  The two Christmas cactus-looking lobed feet plucked from the body of a Eurasian coot.  I found that coot myself, nesting amongst garbage along the edge of a canal in Gent. 1998 it was. That coot was asking for it. Calling out to its mate in the middle of the night and fighting off gangs of mallards that owned the waterway during the day. It was keeping me up night after night, echoing day after day, so bang, boom. I shot that Eurasian coot smack in the back. It was a mess. All that was left were its unique little tri-stemmed feet. Not like a duck’s feet, it must be known. There is so much memory wrapped up in those stems.  It was a mistake to show them to Gerty.  She has a second set of keys to every lock in this house.  Once I caught her sucking on the dried rubbery lobes like a baby with a soother. I had to swat her away before she did more damage to them.  But it couldn’t have been Gerty who took them, she’s on leave for the last misstep, and she has the keys so she wouldn’t have broken the lock. Gerty is a smart one, despite what I’ve said about her.  It wouldn’t be the trolls either.  While they are creepy and I wouldn’t put it past them to get up to no good, they fortunately lack opposable thumbs, at least the ones in our area, to work the doorknobs on the front door, let alone bust open a lock inside.  No, whoever did this is one sadistic hooligan. Ruining perfectly good figs by leaving them in a poo.  I’m tempted to eat one, a fig that is.  Give it a quick rinse.  The rain is letting up.  I resist the fig.

They say there are five love languages. I looked them up the other day to see which category I may have the danger of falling into. Some of the debased pie charts say gift giving is one. Others contradict that by saying it’s receiving gifts.  That’d be pretty selfish. More of a demanding and needy language. Contradiction sound more up my ally as a language I can speak.  Southy was a contradiction and a toucher. Old Southy. He’d paw and pet at you all day if you’d let him. I didn’t let him. It was all I could do to get away.  He’d try to hug me from behind while I was at the sink shaving pieces off a frozen fish for lunch. My back aching, my feet swollen. Touch, no thank you.  In the end we did have quality time together.  Southy was there when I took the coot out.  We made memories on that trip.  I invariably think of old Southy-boy, baby girl when I look at the coot feet. Maybe that’s why I’m thinking about hunting the thief down, even while I’m out at my happy place at this cliff’s edge, two days later. The storm is long gone but the earth is still sopping, damp and mucky. Another storm is already approaching.  I can see it out there, gathering steam. Collecting energy.  It’s disgusting.

At the bottom of this cliff I see the music box I threw over the edge a decade ago. No scavenger has come by yet to claim its broken pieces.  The music box was inefficient.  It took 20 minutes to set up to listen to a seven-minute song.  It was a glorious seven minutes. You could spend your whole life living up to those bombastic, clear, seven minutes of sound.  That’s why I threw it off the cliff.  I couldn’t handle the joy it brought and the time it took to get it.  I know I won’t be able to find answers at this edge about the smarmy thief that broke in to my sanctum. So, I leave my happy place.

Now on the moor, I’m looking for a hole. There’s a spot on this walk, the walk I used to take every day with Dag, every day until their back legs started going lame and we had to take her out back and put an end to her.  Trust me, in the end it was better for everyone. Everyone being me. Dag was all dragging sore-ridden paws, looked like they’d been gnawed at by a rabid beast. Dag and I used to enjoy the crisp constant blowing wind.  I’d know when the hole was coming up. Dag would start to get dead serious and focused, no more bounding and bouncing.  Laser focused. A scent in the air, one I couldn’t detect.

It’s a shame Dag isn’t here now. I could use the help. I hear the faint sound of screaming. I’m getting close. My boots start to suck in to the wet peat.  If I’m not careful I’ll get sucked right in and never be seen again.  I spot the hole.  A perfect circle, you’d think no animal could have made it. But that’s the hubris of man. To think only we can create symmetry with machinery and tools. You’d be a fool to think such things. Every year hikers come across this hole and think, what’s that there? unsuspecting of the life that lives below. They stick their plucky little necks down there in the dark, cold tunnel hoping to spot a goldmine or a bog body, but ultimately meet with Bea.  Delightful Bea.  I won’t trouble you with what Bea does to those jolly hikers. You I’m sure can imagine. The screams of the trapped hikers are getting louder.  I scream back, trying to harmonize, but it’s no use.  Theirs are talentless, purposeless screams. My sing screaming brings Bea to the surface and she is plum cute as ever. Wirey hair every which way, snout long and pointy with a nose so big and smooshy you just want to boop it.

“Good fine morning Miss Bea. Have you been well through the storm?”

“Petra Marla Oona.  Is that you?  You don’t have your usual odor, what have you been up to?”

I exchanged the necessary pleasantries with Miss Bea, she becomes cranky if I stay too long so I get to the point.

“Something broke into my house two nights ago. They took my coot feet.”

Miss Bea doesn’t skip a horse’s heartbeat with her analysis, “I think the South Knight is jerking you around. That’s my first thought and my instincts never let me down.”

I tense up at the name South Knight. Miss Bea, the perceptive little cunt, picks up on this.

“You look a little worried, Marla. Anything the matter? I can tell your anus is tighter than before. Trying your best to keep your innards from becoming outers?”

Miss Bea has become a terrible show off of late. Too many hikers in her lair.  She needs to be taken down a peg or two.

“Do you like that I send hikers your way Miss Bea?”

“Of course I do. I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

“Let’s keep it civil.” I kick Miss Bea in that bulbous snout of hers to keep her in place and leave the immaculate circular hole on the soppy moor to make a plan for visiting South Knight.

I yell back as I’m leaving, “Remember, I’ll stomp on your babies if they make tunnels near my land.”

Miss Bea doesn’t say anything, but I know she’s heard me.

Making plans requires a clear head and I have a tool for that. Something I’ve cultivated over the years. Hard fought, hard won. These things are different for everyone. Mine is named Shifty Barry.

I’ll never pass up a chance for a good ploughing from my sweet Shifty Barry. Getting right banged from behind in safe hands really does untangle the cables of the brain.

I exchange the moorland and rubber boots for nylons and a slinky dress. I get in my pickup and head for Shifty Barry’s.  The coot feet don’t matter to me much right now. Instead, the nagging, ever present thought is that Southy has one up on me. That gnawing feeling is worse than any good memory.

Shifty Barry is sturdy and stout with a good head of hair that seems to live an independent existence from its owner, set atop his head like a crown of silken springs. It must be said Shifty Berry isn’t shifty at all. But sometimes he can give a look that makes you wonder if he’s here on this plane with you or somewhere inside your brain picking at the pieces, looking for answers to the big questions, like what should I have for lunch or who will be on The Graham Norton Show this week.

Shifty Barry gives me his full attention the minute I walk through the door to his spotless cabin. He’ll gaze lovingly at me, smooth skinned Shifty Barry, tightly packed muscled Shifty Barry body. He’ll watch as I lay sunbathing in his yard by the deep dark, almost black lake.

All this after the ploughing though. The ploughing must come first. It’s not summer right now though so no sunbathing this time. But after the dress gets peeled off and the nylons get a hole ripped into the crotch so they can stay on during the ploughing we retreat to his sauna where we lay apart.  We lay apart so I have room to grow twenty feet tall and fifty feet wide.  We lay apart so I can expand and contract my lungs and stomach and suck in the hot, wet, orange essential oiled air. Suck in the universe and all its dirt and dust and hairy creatures. We lay apart and he looks at me with soft eyes before he drags me over to him, pulling me from my hips to eat and suck me clean off the bone.

I think about how I’ll approach the Southy situation and Shifty Barry is looking into my mind, eating his way through the knotty, calcified nerves. Digging out the truncated pathways that I’ve worked so hard to block and keep closed.  Ruts and tracks that I’ve forged to shoot currents back and forth, only to let one thought through.  One thought.  Shifty Barry has seen too much and wants to make new paths.  I don’t want his new paths.  I ask Shifty Barry to find my dress and give me a few dollars for a new pair of nylons. I sink myself one last time into Shifty Barry’s gaze and leave the way I came.

The South Knight’s home is tricky. One must always have their boundaries up and firmly in place. You’ll get sucked in otherwise, like the peatbog. South Knight has a persuasive streak, a pusher of things. Food, wine, clothes, dreams. All big and leaves you wanting. Another drink? Don’t go home. Stay the night. The empire is yours if you’ll only share another bite with me. One can become a gluttonous fool if one hangs around too long. A fool with a bad temper and short attention span.

Visiting South Knight is like stepping into a world unholy.  Passing through the modest wooden gate a pack or Irish Wolfhounds, all kind and shaggy, greet me. Never jumping or barking, never pawing or slobbering all over your legs. A stately cottage of stonework, brick and slate.  Bedraggled with all the potential for misery, yet somehow homely and warm with some unknowable form of eternal optimism and hope that keeps it light, airy and romantic.  Feminine energy permeates the walls.  Only one adult male resides here, and he is South Knight.  He’s softened since I knew him.  Time, I suppose does that. Once the urge to put themselves in every hole they see subsides, some form of kindness starts to seep in. He still doesn’t see the colours I can see though. No amount of waning fuckery will ever give him that.

Inside, the daughters in staggering numbers parade around in their day dresses, holding books and sewing needles and whisks and puppies. As I said, unholy. Among the daughters there is a servant woman. She never complains, but her body does. Her nerve endings scream and send sharp needles through her. Into her shoulders, her hips, her knees. Her feet, her wrists, her arms. She moves but just barely. She is stiff and stifled. She is a monster. A spinster. She is forty!  Can you imagine? Personally, I would have chucked her to the wolves at thirty-five, before she started to show signs of jowls, but South Knight proclaims to be a righteous man and wouldn’t dream of discriminating. Though I know him better. I knew him before this group of daughters, and I know him now. If he were so good why doesn’t he make his own meals, slaughter his own calves. Wash his own bed sheets and mend his own skirts.

I meet Gerty at the back servant’s entrance. She and the chickens are communing. She’s always been good like that.

“Hello Miss Gerty. It’s good to see you again.” I say, approaching cautiously.

Gerty is cradling chicken feed in her apron, all organs and crushed bones. The folded-up fabric sags under the weight of blood and flesh.  Sturdy Gerty doesn’t waver in her duties.  Where others might have dropped the feed and run for their master to alert them of imminent strife, Miss Sturdy Gerty gives me a wry smile and a warm, if not fake, greeting.

“If it isn’t Madam Oona brought back from the living. I never, ever expected to see you again.”

“If I had a choice, I wouldn’t ever have wanted to see this place, or you again either.”

“Well lucky us then,” Gerty puts her hands in the bloody feed. The hens and cocks continue to peck and scratch. I go through the servant’s entrance, leaving Gerty to her work.

I remember inside, but South Knight’s new wife has redecorated and remodeled so it’s the same, but different. A wall down here, a new window there. The new wife likes rundown things as much as Southy, so I'm sure they get on. It doesn't take Southy long to come up from his den. He surely smelt me when I first entered the gates. I could hear his cough before I saw him, a great phlegmy, hawking up a lung morning routine cough. Dislodging decades of souls he’s crushed with nitpicking and impotent indecision. Those poor creatures who didn’t have the strength to just get up and walk out the door. It’s so easy to not come back. Send a text one year saying happy new year and then just fall off the map. Save yourself, I will say to whoever passes me in the hallways. But I've come back, haven't I? Yes, I have. Those damn coot feet. Sentimentality will be the end and the beginning of me.

“You’ve grown!” Southy booms in his artificial kindly voice.  I’m fourteen again and I’ve recently gotten my butter tart sized breasts. Tiny things they are. But to Southy they are as exciting as coconut cream pies. He pretends he’s not looking, but I can feel his eyes.  I want to cover up, but I have nothing else to wear.  Southy gives me an awkward hug.  I’m as open as I’ll ever be in my life right now, hugging this person.  It’s not a warm, loving embrace. No calm, no serotonin going through me. It’s tense, not a full embrace. Fight, flight, freeze. Which will my body choose?

“Come. Sit.  The girls have laid the table for dinner. We suspected you may arrive. A drink? Celebrate the big girl coming home.” Southy shoos the only son out of a chair and takes his seat.

I comply. My defenses are secure, I will concede for a time.

“I’ll take champagne.” I say as I sit a few chairs away from Southy. I don’t need his hot spittle hitting me as he pontificates.

I’m given a cheap white. It tastes like sweet piss. All the daughters are drinking it.

“We never see you anymore. I get so lonely you know. You should call more often.” Southy says, pitying himself. “Go get me a glass for my beer,” Southy orders the only son.

Southy directs his attention back my way, “You know women are such trouble, wouldn’t you say. They are so smart, so smart at your age, smarter and even bigger than boys. If I were an alien, come down to this planet for the first time I’d say women are the dominant sex of the human species. When they are your age. But as they grow, they...no not that one.” The son is by the China hutch holding a beer stein. Southy tuts and looks at me as if to say, must I explain everything.

“No, the pint glass. Do you see which bottle I’m holding?” He holds his beer bottle up for all to see, he chuckles as if this is funny.  Southy looks at me again wanting me to agree, like the son is a fool for not knowing which glass Southy wants at this given time. The son brings a pint glass over.

“See here we go. Now we’re good.” Southy wipes his hands together.

The son moves to the far end of the table, he sits beside Gerty, hoping to shrink so he won’t be noticed.  Hoping to shrink to avoid further scrutiny or requests from Southy.  In his contracted state the son comments on Gerty’s hair clip, “Why are you wearing that one? It looks so sissy. Sissy baby, you’re a sissy baby.”

The smile Gerty has drops, she stops chatting with the girls around her and takes the clip out. She hears the sister next to her prattling away. Gerty gets annoyed and slaps her sister across the face. That sister slaps the next, that sister slaps the one beside her. Down the line the slaps go, daughter after daughter, sister after sister. They get to the end of the table where Southy sits watching all this fun. The daughter closest to him does not transfer the slap to his puffy, booze-bloated face where it should be planted, where that energy should end up, deposited from where it started. No. That daughter slaps the one who slapped her, and it goes down the line, the opposite direction. Slap, slap, slap, back it goes until it gets to Gerty once more. She holds that pain for a moment. That red hot pain.  She picks up the steak knife beside her plate and plunges it into the son’s chest. The young boy registers the shock. Southy is delighted by this chaos, thinking it’s a great lark. The son slumps in his chair. He’s dying. The lark is over.

“Gerty?! Look at what you’ve done!” Southy’s laugh has turned angry. He is stern. “My only son!” His only male punching bag. “My only son, murdered.” Southy looks distraught. He looks at me, “See. Women, only taking. Only wanting drama.” Southy is vindicated by Gerty’s actions.

“Gerty, go to your room.  No supper tonight.”

Gerty accepts the punishment and leaves. I know who I will ask for help from tonight.  Hair clip girl. Gerty. Old spinster Gerty has claimed herself and will be riding this murderous rage, this high, for a few days. She will do anything right now.

Southy takes the silence in the room as invitation to continue preaching, “As they grow, the girls they lose their ambition, they lose their intelligence. They only care about their looks and money. Men’s money. Just look around you. You see?” Southy gestures at the creatures at the table. “Women contribute nothing. They have it so easy and they still whine about it.”

“My feet.” I speak.

“What about your feet?” Southy looks at my feet, “You need new shoes? You came back just to have me buy you shoes again!?” Southy laughs at his shitty joke.

“My coot feet. My cherished Belgian souvenirs. I want them back.” I clearly say.

“Tut, tut my beautiful. I think you have that wrong. They are my feet.” Southy says.

I hold my resolve, “I shot that coot. I took its feet. They are mine.”

“Ooooh. You shot the coot!” Southy looks around the table for allies. Everyone is looking down. It’s quiet. No one wants to meet Southy’s eyes.

Southy continues, “I took you to that shabby gothic cesspit. Whatever you got while there, is mine.” Southy smashes his fist on the table.

“I got herpes there. Must have been yours then.” A few of the daughter’s chuckle. I smile at the son, slouched and dying in his chair. He smiles back.

Southy looks at the son, “I need the stein, why would you get me a pint glass for this beer?”

The boy continues to sag in his chair, blood seeping from the steak knife wound. He looks to the China hutch.

Southy turns his attention back to me, pretending his temper is under control, “You should stay the night. I never see you anymore. Do you have a phone?"

“I have a phone.” I say.

“Are your fingers broken? Can you not dial my number once in a while?”

“I’ll stay the night. Sounds like great fun.” I yield again.

Southy is overjoyed. Hands up in the air, arms wide, large sad belly out, “Here we go,” he shouts.

“No need for the stein son. We’re having whiskey tonight.”

When a person riddled with impotence drinks, they present as such common, depressed, sad creatures. Pitiful. Often angry. Often, they like to blame. They talk of grand futures that will never happen. They’re incapable. They will never change. I give serious credit to the ones who manage to break the bonds created by their surroundings, those who do change.  But they are rare gems. If that is you, you are a gem. Hold that. You are so powerful. Southy is no rare gem. He’s as common as nutrient-depleted dirt in America’s heartland.

After dinner the daughters file off to the reading room to mend stockings and crochet and do needlepoint.  The file off to play games on tablets, tell each other tales of escape and gossip about this new arrival who’s getting Southy’s goat.  I stay with Southy and his now dead son, still slouched in the chair.  I humor Southy and his idea of what a man of the house is. Decreeing from the head of the table and sipping cheap wine and downing whiskey after whiskey speaking ill of the world and falling deeper and deeper into a sad, mangled hole.

I humor Southy by drinking a finger of his bargain basement whiskey and get to the point.

“I’m not leaving here without my coot feet.”

Southy takes a deep breath, shifts his stiff unused body in his chair, failing to get comfortable. Downs his current whiskey, pours another, expecting that it will quiet his pain.

“I guess you’re never going to leave me again.”

I go to bed early leaving Southy to drink with his dead son.

I knock on the door where I know the daughters sleep. I slept in this room once. Single beds in rows like an orphanage. The one I want, Gerty, is awake. I can see her heart aglow from where I stand at the threshold. Her burning, angry, ambitious heart.

We sit on Gerty’s bed. I’m not worried about waking the others who have finished their activities for the night and are sound asleep.  If I do wake them, I want them to hear me.

“Do you want him dead?” Gerty asks me.

“I just want my coot feet. Do you want to get out of here?”

“More than anything.” Gerty was here when I was. She had been there before me.

“Can you help me get what I need?” I ask.

“If I can come with you when you go, I’ll get your feet. They’re surely in his study. He keeps the key in the cookie jar. He thinks we don’t know, but we’re the ones in the kitchen all day. As if we wouldn’t notice.”

We tiptoe through the house, a small candle lighting away. We step over one of the Irish wolfhounds enjoying the warmth of the dying drawing room fire. Southy is bent over in his armchair. Drunk, passed out. To rid the daughters of their tormentor all Gerty and I would have to do is impale Southy with that steak knife that sent his son. But that’s not what we’re here for.

In the kitchen we find the key among the ginger cookies. Into the study we go. On Southy’s desk the lobed feet sit, dried out and leathery. Gerty picks them up and pockets them.

“I’ll give them to you when we’re out.” she says.

I agree. We leave the room unlocked. Door wide open.

In the morning the daughters are all busy in the airy country kitchen, preparing breakfast. One is whisking eggs, another kneading dough, another frying bacon, and yet another peeling apples. A see of lot of ambitious faces in this workroom.

Gerty and I sit at the long, nicked harvest table, watching the daughter’s routine. The routine they did yesterday and the day before that.  The routine they’ll do every day into the future until they figure they can just walk out the door and never come back. We hear Southy coughing up a lung in another room.  I will say goodbye before I leave.  I won’t skulk away with my tail between my legs.

“You must stay for breakfast!” Southy decrees from the door behind us.

We all of us are at the table again, same as the night before. Only the son is now missing. One of the daughters must have cleared his body away but hadn’t gotten to the bloodstains yet. The daughters keep their heads down, they keep their mouths shut. They don’t eat, they don’t talk.

“I know you want to take my head over this, oh daughter of mine. Drawing you back here like this.” Southy says.

“Not anymore.” I say, “It didn’t work for me the first time, so why would I do it again?”

“I was surprised when it grew back, I tell you. My head that is.” Southy says with genuine surprise.

“A shame.” I say, I fork some runny, salty scrambled eggs into my mouth.

“Gerty is coming with me.” I declare as I stir milk into my coffee.

Southy spreads peanut butter on a piece of bread, tops it with fatty, floppy bacon. He fakes happiness at this news. “Oh, I see. Please take her.  You see how many of these girls I must provide for.” Southy gestures around the table with his knife, dripping oily peanut spread as he does.

“You’d be doing me a favour. You know, I have my eyes set on a new group of daughters. Did I tell you? Oh, beautiful black girls they are. They look just like beasts out of Africa. No, I mean it. Features just like apes. Fascinating. I see you making a face at me. But it’s true.”

I want to slice Southy’s throat. But I know it won’t do any good. He’ll come back worse, worse as ever.

“Why did you take the coot feet? Really.” I ask. I sip my coffee. I hate that I like it. I don’t want any good memories from this pastoral place.

“Ah, you’ve changed your tune. The coot feet, not my coot feet. I see you’re making progress.” He bites into his sandwich, shaking and dribbling. Through a full mouth, half chewing, half talking he continues, “I missed you. I wanted you back. The house can’t run right without you. Stay. It’s wonderful here. I’ll take care of you.”

Before I can tell Southy to slice into his nut sack, Gerty has lobbed his head clean off. I suppose she didn’t want to wait any more. I don’t blame her. Southy doesn’t deserve any more of us.

“Well done, Gerty!  I'll show you where I buried the first head.” I say.

Gerty nods with resolve, the axe she used on Southy poised in her hands.

Gerty and I stand at the foot of Southy’s first grave. His skeleton exposed as best as the daughters could do.  Eighteen of them, all with dirty shovels, stand around the fresh hole they’ve dug up at our request. Southy’s first skull stares up at us. Gerty holds Southy’s second head in her hands while another daughter drags Southy’s decapitated body towards the waiting group.

“I’m not sure this will keep him down.” I say to Gerty.

“I wasn’t in the mood to wait around for another chance. Maybe this time it will work.” Gerty says and throws Southy’s head in the grave and climbs in herself.

“Pass me that shovel.” She asks one of her sisters who accommodates. Gerty jams the shovel head into Southy’s mouth.

A group of sisters rolls the headless body into the hole. Gerty starts tossing the bones of first Southy out. All but the skull. One of the Irish wolfhounds takes a femur and trots off, happy with its find. Each daughter takes a bone, a keepsake perhaps, if they still hold some Stockholm syndrome love for this smelly fart of a man.  Others, to do their own witchcraft with.

Gerty positions the body belly down. She makes sure to keep the shovel-eating head at the feet and the old skull jaw down on Southy’s flatulent ass.

“What’s all this for?” I ask.

“I heard once that the head at the feet will keep it from reattaching. Belly down means he can’t climb up, but will claw further down. Shovel in the mouth to keep those wretched opinions to himself, even in hell. And skull on the ass, I’m not sure if that’s a thing. But if it is, now he can eat shit.”

I nod in approval as Gerty climbs out in quick order. I hold her hand to give her some leverage. The daughters take this as a sign to start filling the grave and each prays silently that this time the burial will stick.

The next morning comes, and the daughters continue as they always did. The chicken eat their scratch, the pigs get slaughtered, the well gets drunk from, the wood is chopped and fires lit. A few daughters say goodbye to me as they head off to market with woven baskets to sell and provisions to purchase.

Gerty and I take our leave.

It’s quiet at home.  Less feet moving about.  The trolls mind their business in the bushes. I place my Eurasian coot feet back in the cabinet where they belong. My animal room is complete once again. I ask Gerty to fix the broken door and lock that Southy busted.

I ask my son to get me a glass for my whiskey.

[highways-are-liminal-spaces]

A recipe for apple pie

 You’ll know when it’s time. The morning air will have that first sting of winter in it, and the faint scent of iron on the wind. The leaves will crackle differently underfoot. 

 Begin with the dough. Sift together flour, salt, sugar, and ground cardamom in a large bowl. Add the vanilla bean paste and mix to combine.

 Cut butter into chunks, and add to the flour mixture. Toss lightly to coat. Working quickly, using your fingers, cut the butter into the flour mixture until there are only pea-sized chunks left. You want a few lumps of butter remaining to keep the pastry nice and tender.

 Notice the silence. Absorb the silence. Consider putting on the game in the background, just to break the silence, but your hands are tacky from the flour and the butter, and it doesn’t seem worth crossing the room.

 Combine ice, water and cider vinegar in a bowl. Sprinkle a few tablespoons of the ice water into the flour and butter mixture, and using your hands, mix in well. Always use your hands—the recipe doesn’t call for it, but there’s something about pressing the dough against your skin that feels sacred.

 Continue adding water a tablespoon at a time, slowly, until you have a dough that holds together well but is not too wet.

 Squeeze together with your fingertips to make a homogenous dough. Divide the dough into two - one third for the top, and the remaining two thirds for the bottom. Shape the smaller portion into a disc and the larger into a rectangle. Place the two pieces into the fridge, and leave for at least two hours.

 Notice the silence again. Switch on the TV, and keep the volume low in the background. Make yourself a cup of hot tea and try to read a few chapters of an old favorite book. Pull down the blinds, careful not to peer into the yard as you do so. Wait.

 Once two hours have passed, open the fridge. Appreciate the familiar hum it makes as you take out the dough.

 Dust your counter in flour. Your grandfather taught you this trick to see the footprints of all the little fairies that would sneak into the kitchen pantry at night, and your mother scolded you when she came downstairs the next morning to a kitchen floor covered in flour, but she didn’t deny that the footprints were there. “Mice,” she told you, but you remember that the small prints looked distinctly human.

 Roll the larger disc of dough into a circle slightly larger than your pie dish, ⅛ inch thick. Line a 9" pie dish, leaving the extra dough overhanging. Trim the dough so there is about 1 inch overlapping the edge of your dish.

 Without looking outside, open the window above the sink and toss the extra dough onto the front porch. Ignore the sound of hooves against the wood.

 Roll out the smaller piece of dough into a rough rectangle, ⅛ inch thick, and use your grandmother’s knife—the one you keep mounted on the wall, that is so dulled with age and still so sharp—to cut it into thin strips. Braid the pastry like your mother used to, like her mother used to, like her mother used to because the thing in the woods had shown her to do it like that, the night her son hadn’t come home, and he was back on the front porch come morning.

 Place the braids onto a parchment paper lined baking sheet and store in the fridge until ready to use. Reroll any scraps and add them to the web of braidwork.

 Peel the apples, careful to remove the skin in a single spiral, and slice finely. In a large bowl, toss together the apple and lemon juice. Leave to sit for 5 minutes, then drain any excess liquid.

 Close your eyes, this time, as you toss the apple skins out the window. There are more hoofbeats now, and the urge to peek is nearly overwhelming. Replace the knife on the wall, and draw the curtains tight.

 Combine the flour, sugar, cardamom, cinnamon, and salt in a small bowl, then gently sprinkle into the apples along with the vanilla bean. Toss well to combine. Transfer the filling to the lined pie dish, packing the slices of apple in tightly, and mounding in the middle. Begin to hum, if the snarling from the porch is too much for you. Put on some music. Turn up the game.

 Arrange the braid across the top of the pie, like your mother taught you. The thing in the woods had had no hands, her grandmother had said, but it was so delicate with the symbol. Don’t listen to the howling outside. Don’t let your hands shake.

 Rest the pie in the fridge for at least 30 minutes, while you preheat the oven to 425˚F.

 Take the egg out of the fridge—the strange one that you found on the porch last Thursday, the one with the golden sheen and the dark flecks that look almost like writing from certain angles. Crack it into a small bowl, and whisk in 1 tbsp milk to create an egg wash.

 The howling will come to a crescendo, and will begin to sound almost musical. Haunting, and enticing. Turn up the game. Turn up the music. Sing along if you have to. Don’t look outside.

 When the oven chimes, stand up and cross the room. Place a baking tray on the bottom rack of the oven. It is important that you do not check the time as you do so.

 Brush the braiding with egg wash and sprinkle liberally with raw sugar. Bake at 425˚F for 20 minutes, as counted by your grandmother’s old egg timer sitting on the counter. The clock on the oven will be blinking 88:88 and your phone will have died in your pocket, no matter when you last remembered to charge it. Do not look at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Do not look outside.

 After 20 minutes, reduce the temperature 375˚F, and bake until the pastry is deeply golden and the filling is bubbling. When the pie is done, you can check the time. It will be later than you expect, and earlier too.

 Remove the pie from the oven and cool on top of the stove. Cut the pie into twelfths, clockwise, following the spiral of the braid. Plate the first slice to leave out on the front porch, before serving.

Original pie recipe: x 

[jamiebluewind]

Since a LOT of you were doubtful, here is a list of the comics that I read. I included them ALL, even the ones that might embarrass me. I'd open to talking about any of them if anybody is interested.

-not on webtoons-

Dumbing of Age

Questionable Content

Girl Genius

Awkward Zombie

OJST (rated M)

Unexpected Guests

Handplates

-on webtoons (and in alphabetical order)-

1HP Club

Adventures of God

Be My Villian

Best Teacher Baek

BlackSmith

Boyfriends.

Boyfriend of the Dead

Brimstone and Roses

Castle Swimmer

City of Blank

Cool Uncle

Coral of the Void

Cryptid Club

Crucible

Don't Fall For Flint

Doom Breaker

Do You Remember

Duncan and Eddie

Dungeons & Artifacts

Eaternal Nocturnal

Encore!

Erma

Fins

Fins & Crinolines

Flawless

Forever After

Four Leaf

Fray

Gradually

Greta The Red Wolf

Heartstopper

Hero Killer

High Class Homos

Homesick

How To Be A Dragon

Humor Me

Hyperfocus

I Am The Villian

I Want To Be A Cute Anime Girl

Immortal Weakling

In the Bleak Midwinter;

ISADORA

Jackson's Diary

Jean and Clark

Jupiter-Men

Just a Goblin

Lemon Soda & Coffee

Little Macha Girl

Live With Yourself

Lone

Lore Olympus

LoveBot

Lovely Hell

Love Me To Death

Mage and Minic

Magical Mom

MAJESTIKAL MISTAKE

Maybe Meant To Be

Moonlighting

Morgana and Oz

My Giant Nerd Boyfriend

Night Owls & Summer Skies

Not Your Binary

Oma

Omniscient Reader

Our Cornor

PaperTeeth!

Pixie and Brutus

Race You

Rebirth

Return To Player

Revelation of Eros

Rooftops & Roommates

Roundhouse

Sally & Bean

Sarah's Scribbles

Spellward Bound

stare down.

Suitor Armor

Sunny Side Skies

Surviving Romance

Swords

The Academy's Undercover Professor

The Advanced Player of the Tutorial Tower

The Blind Prince

The Boy Who Murdered Love

The Doctors are Out

The Fabled Warrior

The Gentle Way

The Kiss Bet

The Last God of Spring

The Last Human (in a Crowded Galaxy)

The Little Trashmaid

The Moth Prince

The Prince of Southland

The UnCommons

The Weekly Roll

The Witch and The Bull

Third Shift Society

Time and Time Again

Time Roulette

To Be Ordinary!

Tripp

TRIPTRACK

Two Losers From Earth

Ultra-Alternative Character

Villian to Kill

Your Wings And Mine

Zocker

ZomCom

Also, comics that have finished...

AntiSTALKER

Apocalyptic Horseplay

Dark Mortal

Devil Number 4

Crown of Feathers

Elf & Warrior

Finding Wonderland

Fluidum

Freaking Romance

God, Please Make Me a Demon!

Hooves of Death

Jackie Rose

Long After Ending

Love and Leashes

Muted

My Daughter is a Zombie

My Dictator Boyfriend

My ID is Gangnam Beauty

Nice To Meet You

Opposite of Always

Our Time

Refund High School

Rise from Ashes

Seed

Shingi: The Spirit's Playbook

So You're Raising a Warrior

The Fever King

The Makeup Remover

Thornstone

Trailer Part Warlock

Vattu

Camp Weedonwantcha (off webtoon)

Shortpacked! (off webtoon)

Comics that might be dead...

Heroic

Part-Time Blood Bank

That Awkward Magic!!

The D!ckheads

Traceless Knight

Witchy (off webtoon)

After "cutting back" on my webcomics, I'm currently reading about 104 comics on Webtoon plus 7 on other sites.

[babbushka]

Biting Dust - Ch. 5

Life ain’t too easy for a woman, ‘specially not a woman on the run like you. With a bounty on your head and gunpowder in your nose, you’ve grown adjusted to a life of solitude away from the hustle and bustle of civilization. That is, until you meet one particular man who’s got a face you’d only ever seen in your dreams – or on wanted posters. And when he offers you a proposition that sounds too good to be true, well. You don’t think your life will ever be the same again…

Outlaw!Kylo Ren x Reader

Tumblr Masterlist | Available on AO3

6k; Warnings: Attempted assault, attempted murder

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Red clouds of earth kick up behind your horse’s hooves as they gallop far past the town line, hootin’ and hollerin’ all the while. The wind whips your hair around, your bonnet flung right off your head, held onto your person only by the wide ribbon that’s kept it tied ‘round your throat. Adrenaline pumps through your body, makes your vision spotty, makes your heart beat fast fast fast, ridin’ like lightning away from Ragrock.

Kylo’s right beside you, makin’ just as much damn noise as you, his crooked teeth gleamin’ gold in the blazin’ Arizona sun. You ain’t never see him grin this big, as he shouts and jeers too, challengin’ the canyons and the desert, darin’ them to take this moment away from the both of you.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you!” You laugh, voice nearly gettin’ lost in the wind, cheeks hurtin’ from the way you’re smilin’ so much, “Goddamn you’re so -- so -- stupid!”

Kylo laughs at that too, a deep rumblin’ sound that feels so much like thunder that you’re sure it’s shakin’ the earth. Or maybe that’s Sam and Agnes, the way they’re throwin’ their heads back and whinnying and stampin’ their hooves into the caked dirt below. Either way, it’s a good sound, one of them sounds that makes you ache in your bones; you can’t remember the last time you heard someone else laugh so genuinely.

“Yeah?” He finally decides to slow Sam to a halt, and you do the same, tuggin’ on Aggie’s reigns to get her to calm just a little bit, the horses powerful legs comin’ to a gentle trot, both you and Kylo gulpin’ down air.

“Yeah. Why the hell did you bring us through there knowin’ there was bad blood?” You reach into the saddle bag and pull out a canteen, measurin’ a careful sip or two of the fresh river water, before decidin’ to pass the jug over to Kylo himself.

Gratefully, he takes the same size sip as you, and you think that’s mighty chivalrous of him once again, on account of he’s a much bigger person than you, and should clearly need more water. Still, you don’t protest when he hands the canteen back to you, the lid screwed on nice and tight to avoid spillin’.

“It was the only place I could think of that’s close enough.” He shrugs, and you frown ever so slightly at that, knowin’ that really, as long as you stay close to the Colorado River, you’ll have just about anything you need.

Well, almost, anyway.

“Close enough for what?” Your curiosity gets the better of you, especially when he starts rummagin’ around in his own saddle-bag for somethin’. You lean over, tryin’ to be nosy and get a peek inside, but he only clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and you duck your head, embarrassed at bein’ caught.

“For this,” Kylo doesn’t make you wait though, pullin’ out a couple boxes of bullets, but much more importantly, “And these.”

When Kylo pulls out the burlap sack filled with coins, your eyes widen. Right there in his fist has to be over five hundred dollars in gold and silver, more money than you’ve ever seen in one place save for the banks you burn. It makes your mouth go dry, and you wonder how he got a hold of it all, if he took it from the cash register by force, or if he stole it discreetly.

“Holy shit, no wonder you were takin’ so damn long.” You urge Aggie a little closer to get a better look, darin’ to stick your hand in the bag and scoop up a handful of the coins. They were heavy, heavy and real.

“I figured you wouldn’t be opposed.” Kylo speaks quietly as your hands let the coins fall between your fingers, clinking together back in the sack. He gives you the sack then, lets the weight of it rest in your hands, clearin’ his voice, “We’ll need it for Ruby City.”

Without a thought, you push it back into his hand. He was the one who had stolen it, it belonged to him. Yes you were out of money, your own coin purse completely empty, but...but you had more pride than that, to accept someone else’s hard earned coin. Even if he had earned it wrongly, it was still his.

Besides, you reckon as you shake your head when he tries to give it back once again, Kylo was right -- it’s less suspicious to travel with a man, and if you’re traveling together, he better be the one to handle the money.

Kylo seems to read your thoughts, and he just nods, before taking a couple coins out and handing them to you, fifty bucks weighin’ on your palm.

“Just take the fuckin’ money.” He says with a small smile. “I won’t hear any ‘no’, it’s yours too, for helpin’ me by distractin’ the townfolk.”

You sigh, and reluctantly put the coins in your own small purse. For the first time in a while, the fabric is bulged out and heavy. Kylo puts the burlap sack back in his saddle-bag, and you resolve to ignore its existence until you need him to pay for a room at an inn somewhere.

“Should’ve warned me that you knew the damn bartender.” You scold him then, a little disgruntled that he had kept that information from you. If you were going to be a distraction, you would’ve liked to know exactly who it was you’re distractin’. “Should’ve told me y’all hated each other.”

You don’t tell Kylo that you were flirtin’ with that Armitage, certain that he wouldn’t like it. He sure as hell didn’t like it when Amos was gettin’ a little too friendly with you, anyway, and he was just a stranger. To your surprise though, Kylo scoffs out a laugh, and fishes out his old cigarette from the inside of his boot, lightin’ it with a match and puffin’ smoke through his nose.

“Hate?” He’s got humor in his voice as he urges Sam forward, needin’ to get back towards the water’s edge before the sun sank too low in the sky, “Nah, Hux and I go way back. He’s a good friend.”

You level him a dirty glare at that, if only he had told you he coulda’ saved you a world of panic! You think about the way that Armitage shot out his own windows, the way that Kylo managed to murder Armitage’s brother without any guns of his own, and all the damn fallout that came from it.

“Didn’t seem to be actin’ like a good friend when he was aimin’ his shotgun at your face.” You point out, thinkin’ to yourself, men are so goddamn strange.

Kylo laughs again, and you find yourself growin’ dangerously used to the sound, so you just sigh and shake your head. He smokes and smokes, both of your horses leadin’ you closer to the water, havin’ galloped away from it ever so slightly.

“He likes when I come rollin’ through, trust me. He always complains about how quiet his lil’ town of Ragrock gets, likes to give the folks somethin’ to gossip about every now and again.” Kylo explains, patton’ Sam’s neck and flashin’ you a gold-tipped smile.

“So he really wasn’t going to kill us then?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh no he probably would’ve if I let him.” Kylo answers quickly, “‘Specially after what I did to Brian. But he’ll be fine with it in a couple weeks once folks tell him I wasn’t the one that started nothin’.”

You stare at him for a little while, and he can feel the weight of your gaze on him, but he only gives you a crooked smile and a wink. You weren’t so sure what that wink meant, but if you had to guess, it could really only mean trouble.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” You lick across your teeth to prevent yourself from smilin’ and givin’ him the satisfaction of knowing that he entertains you. The grin he gives you tells you he knows it anyway.

“Nothin’ that you can’t handle though, I reckon.” Counterin’ with a slight smile, Kylo ducks his head and blushes, and that alone is enough to make you tap your heels against Aggie’s hide, to get her to go gallopin’ down the canyons again.

-----------------------

Some hours later, when the world around you starts to cool off from the settin’ of the sun, you and Kylo set up camp near the river. He had gone ahead and scouted the spot out, made sure there weren’t any folks who had already laid claim to that particular stretch of the bend, no one that could go cousin’ any trouble.

There was more than enough money now, to buy new stocks of food whenever y’all got to the next stop along the route, but that didn’t mean that you were about to let Kylo blow through the supply. So instead, you ask he hunt you down another rabbit for dinner, which he does in less than a half hour, impressin’ you once again.

It’s quiet, out there by the river. The sky has faded to a gentle purple, the silvery moon high in the sky. You’ve got a fire made, nothin’ too big or roarin’, just tall enough to heat up the cast-iron pot that you’ve got hangin’ over it by an iron stake. That rabbit is stewin’ in the pot, along with some water, beans, cut up carrots and a little bit of rice. You stir the pot, listenin’ to the sound of the river as it trickles past.

The sweet sound of a harmonica sounds then, and your gaze snaps up to see Kylo with the instrument against his lips. His eyes are closed, and he’s breathin’ nice and even, the high tune of a melody makin’ your throat choke up. It was a tune you knew all too well, once upon a time, a long time ago.

You stir the stew, chewin’ on the side of your cheek, until somethin’ in you compels you to sing. Your voice is a little rusty, but it doesn’t deter Kylo one bit, in fact, when he catches wind of you singin’ along to his tune, he plays a little louder, a little clearer, switchin’ to the harmony as you take over the melody to the sad cowboy song that you once used to teach yourself,

"O bury me not on the lone prairie."

These words came low and mournfully

From the pallid lips of the youth who lay

On his dying bed at the close of day.

He had wasted and pined 'til o'er his brow

Death's shades were slowly gathering now

He thought of home and loved ones nigh,

As the cowboys gathered to see him die.

"O bury me not on the lone prairie

Where coyotes howl and the wind blows free

In a narrow grave just six by three—

O bury me not on the lone prairie"

"It matters not, I've been told,

Where the body lies when the heart grows cold

Yet grant, o grant, this wish to me

O bury me not on the lone prairie."

Kylo sets down his harmonica then, and you blink away a light mistiness in your eye. It ain’t good to dwell on the past, you know, but sometimes, times like these, you can’t help but think ‘bout it. Kylo’s blinkin’ away somethin’ too, you notice, so as you stir the stew and determine the rabbit and vegetable and rice are all as cooked as they need to be, you ladle a big bowl for you and for this man who has become the closest thing to a companion you’ve ever had in your life, and you take it over to him.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, not for a while. You simply sit down next to him, as close to him as you’ve gotten since that time in the river, and hand him the bowl and spoon. He accepts it gratefully, his own gaze cast into the fire, and not for the first time, you wonder what’s goin’ on in his head.

After a couple bites of the stew, you rest your head on his shoulder. It’s a tentative motion, a hesitant one. Kylo holds his breath, you can feel it in the way he tenses ever so slightly, but he doesn’t tell you to move, and that’s as good of an invitation to stay as any, you reckon.

“You can’t go lookin’ at me like that, by the by.” Breaking the silence, you slurp down a spoonful of stew yourself, lookin’ into the comforting vision of the flames which flicker and flare gently in front of you.

“Hm?”

“If we’re meant to be cousins,” You explain, voice soft and kind, knowin’ that you’ve been too hard on him these past couple days. “You can’t be givin’ me those eyes of yours. Folks might see through the ruse.”

Kylo surprises you by shruggin’ with his other shoulder, his cheeks crinklin’ into a smile. His dimples crease, and he chews on his lip a little, keepin’ his eyes down as he blushes.

“Folks marry their cousins all the time, it wouldn’t be so strange.” Kylo nearly whispers, almost like he’s afraid to speak the words, rushes quickly to try and change the subject as soon as he’s said it, “Hell, my mother almost married her own damn brother on accident -- but that’s a long and complicated story.”

“Oh so we’re married now.” You smile, feelin’ the heat rise to your own cheeks. It’s less of a question and more of a statement, the way you say it, and you find that against your own better judgement, you like the way it sounds. You like the idea of it, and that makes butterflies spark up in your stomach, a feelin’ you ain’t so used to.

“We could be.” Kylo doesn’t dare look at you, idly stirring his bowl, “We could pretend, anyway.”

You think for a second about what that might be like -- but then you shake your head a little and sigh, “I made a promise I’d never be a meek housewife.”

“Ain’t no one here callin’ you meek.” Kylo reassures you, and now it’s your turn to duck your head, to rest it against his shoulder a little more. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, you wonder if he can hear it out there in the quiet of night.

“Be my cousin, for just a little while longer.” You whisper, a silent plea to just give you some more time, “Until we make it to Ruby City.”

“I can’t get a good read on you.” Kylo hums, and you’re relieved to hear that he’s not got an angry or disappointed edge to his tone.

He really does respect you, you realize all of a sudden. Maybe it’s foolish to come to that conclusion so soon, so quickly after you’ve met him, but you can’t help but come to it nonetheless. He’s done nothin’ but respect you this whole time, and you don’t know what to do about that. It’s never happened before.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, a hint of a smile on your lips.

“It means that you’re the most mysterious damn woman I’ve ever met.” He replies easily, a smile on his own.

“I have to be.” Shrugging, you eat another bite of the stew, wishin’ you had some spices to throw in it. You hope Kylo doesn’t think it’s too bland -- before growin’ bashful again, at the thought that you want him to enjoy your cookin’.

“Why’s that?”

“Because the more people that know about me, the less safe I am.”

“I told you -- ”

“I know, you ain’t gonna hurt me, I know.” You interrupt him, before sighing, wondering if you were really going to do this, if you were really going to tell him. “That’s not what I meant.”

Kylo senses a shift in the air, a change in the atmosphere, and his teasing playful smile melts into something a little more somber, more serious. He watches you, and waits for what you have to say, and you decide that what the hell -- if you couldn’t tell Kylo, you couldn’t tell anyone at all.

“I didn’t always used to be an outlaw, you know.” Setting down your bowl of stew, you fidget with the hem of your blue dress’ skirt, and look into the fire, your memory transporting you to a place and time that felt like a million years ago. “There was a time, a long time ago, that I was a school teacher, in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere Utah...”

-----------------------

You were young, when you started teachin’ at the school. It had always been your favorite place when you were growin’ up, and when the teacher herself got married and moved away, you jumped at the vacancy at once. This was the only way a young woman like yourself could earn a living with her clothes on, you knew that, and though you were barely older than the students that came to your classes, you took your job seriously.

It had been a bright sunny morning in Spring the day you turned sixteen, when the bells tolled for all the school children to come rushing to your door. Standing outside the single room schoolhouse, you had a cheerful smile on your face as you welcomed the students that you had come to love and care for, as they bounded up the few steps and into the wooden building. Ranging in age from as young as five, to as old as twelve, two dozen students took to their seats, fresh faced and recently washed, hair combed for their lessons.

“Good mornin’ class!” You walk to the front of the room once the bell finishes tolling, picking up a piece of chalk and writing out the first line to a popular sea shanty turned folk song, your delicate cursive spelling, ‘O Bury Me Not On The Lone Prairie.’

“Good morning Miss (L/N)!” The class responds in happy unison. One of your students, a young girl named Wendy quickly gets out of her seat to place an apple on your desk before hurrying back.

You smile at her, at all of them, having grown so fond of this mis-matched group of kids that have been placed in your care for the weekdays.

“I trust y’all had a good weekend?” You ask them, met with a chorus of overlapping affirmations, and you chuckle at their response to immediately wantin’ to tell you all about everything they did on their days off. “Good, I’m glad. Now if you would buddy up and please take out your textbook, we’ll pick up where we left off on Friday.”

The McGuffey reader was your go-to book to teach the children with, it had everything you needed -- reading, writing, and arithmetic that was easy enough to understand by even the littlest of your students. It was broken down into repetition, phonetics, and even had lines to trace the letters and numbers, but more than that, it was the book you yourself had learned to read by, so you were familiar enough with it.

“Who would like to be the first to read what I’ve got written up on the board?” You ask, once they’ve all opened their books to the appropriate page, a handful of eager students at once clamoring to volunteer.

And so, like any other day, the morning turned to afternoon, and the afternoon turned to evening. When the bells rang to dismiss the class, the children groaned, knowing that meant they had to go home where their family would likely put them to work in the field or in the kitchen for an hour before supper.

“Thank you for another wonderful day children, y’all be good for your parents now, you hear?” You try to encourage them to cheer up, even if it did warm your heart that they liked learning from you so much. “Oh, Rickie? Could you come here for a minute? You’re not in trouble, I promise.”

Sitting at your desk for a moment, you saw the earring that you had stashed in your drawer from the evening prior, and you fish it out as the ten year old skips over to you, his mousy brown hair flopping around as he does. You smile, thinkin’ that he might do to ask for a trim when he gets home.

“Yes ma’am?” Rickie stands before the desk, and you hand him the earring, his eyes going wide as he recognizes it.

“Could you do me a big favor and deliver this to your Mama? She must’ve dropped it here last night and I’m sure she’s goin’ crazy lookin’ for it.” You smile, and he nods happily.

“She sure is! Earned myself a smack upside the head I did, when she thought I snatched it from her dresser!” Rickie laughs, clearly glad to have been vindicated.

“Well I’m sure she’ll be sorry when you bring it back to her, let her know I was the one who had it, not you.” You smile back warmly at him, but he’s already runnin’ out of the schoolhouse, callin’ another thanks and a goodbye behind him as he goes.

Only a moment or two before the last of your students are gone, is there a knock on the door.

He doesn’t wait for an answer before coming in anyway, and you look up with a frown to see who would be so rude as to invite themselves, until you recognize the sheriff and put a forced smile upon your face.

“Hello sheriff, how are you this fine evenin’?” You present yourself as politely as possible, as the man’s spurs clink while those heavy boots of his walk across your floors, trackin’ mud in from the outside with little care.

You didn’t like him, the sheriff. Didn’t like the way you caught him starin’ at you sometimes, didn’t like the way you caught him starin’ at the girls in your class. He was one of the oldest fellas in town, maybe three times your age. He’s starin’ at you now, eyein’ you up and down in a way that makes your skin crawl.

“I’m doin’ well honey, thank you.” The sheriff chews on some tobacco, a habit you can’t stand, before pointin’ out the door behind him and askin’ with a stern voice, “That boy wasn’t givin’ you any trouble, was he?”

“Rickie? No of course not, he’s a good kid.” You’re quick to reply, not wantin’ to cause any trouble for the young farmboy. You and the sheriff look at each other for a moment or two, before you grow more and more uncomfortable, busyin’ your hands with the worksheets that’ve been left on your desk to grade. You clear your throat, “Is -- has somethin’ happened?”

“Naw, I just wanted to come by and see ya before your night class starts.” The sheriff’s spurs clink clink clink over to the desk where he sits himself down, right on the wooden table-top.

“Well, here I am. Can I offer you somethin’ to drink? Coffee?” You try your best to be polite, hoping that one of your night students -- adults from the town who never got to go to school when they were young -- might show up and come to your rescue.

“Not tonight, thank you.” He replies, making you sigh out with relief against your better judgement. He doesn’t notice, instead you can feel his gaze on your chest, “But, if you’re free this friday evenin’, I’d love to take you up on that offer.”

“Oh...I see.” Bile rising up in the back of your throat, you shake your head and try to reject him as politely as possible, voice clipped yet firm as you move from around the desk to the chalk-board where you erase the children’s lesson and prepare for the adult’s. “Sheriff, I’m sorry but, I’m not quite interested in seein’ anyone at present.”

“And why’s that?” He doesn’t leave you alone, and you begin to panic with the way he’s steppin’ closer to you, knowin’ that if he traps you against the board, there won’t be a clear path to escape.

“Well it ain’t allowed for a woman to be datin’ while she’s a schoolteacher.” You explain, your voice starting to wobble.

Something about that makes him chuckle, somethin’ sinister, his blackened teeth from all that damn tobacco too close to your face when he grins.

“Must be awfully lonely,” Sheriff runs his hand up your arm, “Missin’ the comfort of a man at night.”

“It’s not.” Your body shudders in revolt, and you try to side step him, blood pounding in your ears, eyes wide in distress as you feel sweat bead up and trickle down the back of your thigh, “I appreciate your concern but -- ”

“Let me just get one kiss then.” He doesn’t let you go that easily, grabbing your arm harshly and dragging you over to one of the desks where he pushes you with a rough shove. His hand grips your cheek too hard, forcing your mouth to pucker as you fight him.

“Sheriff, I said no -- please get away from me -- I don’t -- don’t touch me!!” You knee him hard straight in the groin, your panicked scream alerting the adults who had thankfully, miraculously, decided to show up for evening class early.

“Miss (L/N)!” A couple of cattle ranchers kick the door open and run to your side, tugging you away from the sheriff who laughs loudly. You smell the stench of alcohol on him, realizing he’s drunk as all hell, and cling to the strong rancher, tears threatening to spill over your eyes.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch our teacher again!” One of the ranchers, a nice man named Francisco, holds you tightly, protectively. You always liked Francisco, he treated you like a daughter he never got to have. The other, Jedidiah, stands firmly next to you, so ready to lunge at the sheriff that you can’t help but feel immense gratitude towards them.

“Everythin’s just fine son, run along now.” The sheriff chuckles, but neither Francisco nor Jedidiah move a muscle.

“Sheriff I think you need to leave.” Mustering up as much of your courage as possible, you speak clearly, willing your voice not to shake as the safety of Francisco’s arms give you strength, “Class begins soon, I’m sorry.”

The ranchers stare the sheriff down, and he stares back, before noddin’ with a sick understandin’ that you reckon means this won’t be the last you see of him. Spittin’ his tobacco onto the floor, that same floor he sullied with the mud under his boots after the children had so lovingly cleaned it with you, the sheriff turned on his heel and left, pausin’ at the doorway for a moment to send you a dark, threatenin’ chuckle, “You will be.”

“Are you alright Miss (L/N)? Did he hurt you?” Jedidiah takes his cap off and kneels in front of you, tryin’ to appear as non-threatenin’ as possible. Francisco releases his hold on you, and checks you for any marks or signs of stress, but you just let out a shudderin’ breath and shake your head. You’re not sure which question that’s meant to answer, but they don’t press you.

“Who do we call when the sheriff’s the one acting out?” Francisco wonders aloud, and you feel like there’s lead in your belly, because he’s right.

The only way you’d likely be able to avoid the sheriff and his wrath would be to leave town altogether, and well, you couldn’t do that. Who would keep after the students then?

There wasn’t any trouble during the lesson that evening, much to your satisfaction. The later it got in the night, the more you felt relieved, surely if the sheriff was going to cause trouble, he would’ve done so by now. Your students can tell that there’s something off about you though, a few of them approachin’ you after the class was done, wonderin’ if there was anythin’ they could do.

In hindsight, you wonder how different your life would’ve been, had you asked to stay with one of them for the evening, or had you asked one of them to stay with you.

The chokin’ woke you up, before anythin’ else. Smoke, thick black plumes of it pouring out of the windows, the doors. Smoke in your lungs that had your body joltin’ up and out of the little bed up in the attic where you lived above the schoolhouse, had you rollin’ onto the floor in a panic.

“No!” You shout, as the heat of red orange yellow flames begins to lick up the walls, eatin’ away at the wood structure of the building, the whole thing two steps from bein’ a blazin’ bonfire out in the field, “Oh god, oh god no!”

Frantic, you run, mind going blank, trying to focus on grabbin’ the important things, only the important things; a photo of your family, the money out of the dresser, a copy of your favorite book. That was it, all you had that you could think to grab, before trying for the door.

The handle burns, and you scream, shaking the pain away from the blisteringly hot doorknob. You’re fucked, oh you’re so fucked, you think as you back up enough to barrel your way through the door, the wood shattering and splintering. The fire reached all the way up to the attic, there was nowhere you could escape. You could jump out the window, but you’d break your neck landin’ on the hard ground. Outside, someone yells, revelin’ in the way that you scream.

“If I can’t have you, ain’t nobody gets to have you, hear that? You hear that bitch?” The sheriff cackles tauntingly, and the fear of death drips icy cold down your back, compels you to run as fast as you can down the wooden rickety stairs, into the blaze.

If you can just get out, if only you can get out of this building, maybe you’ll survive, maybe you --“No!”

One of the stairs has shattered beneath your feet, your foot stomping straight through it, trapped. You cough and hack up the smoke, it’s stinging your eyes, it’s in your lungs, soot in your mouth, you can’t see, oh god it’s so hot, the flames are surrounding you, and your foot is stuck through the stairs.

“Please, please come on you’re strong enough for this, you have to be strong enough for this, come on.” You sob, willing yourself, yanking your foot out in harsh movements as the laughter screeches around you in a drunken stupor.

Eventually, in all your efforts, the structure of the stairs give away entirely, and you try to grab onto something as the floor falls beneath your feet, sending you crashing down into the classroom below. The fire’s taken everything here; the wallpaper, the tables and chairs, even the shiny apple that Wendy sat on your desk, all reduced to ash, cracking and spitting in the flames.

You’ve hit your head from the fall, you can’t move. Somethin’s pinned your legs, you can’t feel nothin’. At least there ain’t any smoke down here, all of it risin’ up up up through the building. The smoke pushes the bells, make them toll. You wonder if they’re callin’ the Reaper, tears slippin’ down your cheeks.

“All the books, oh the poor children.” You whisper, thinkin’ of them all, watchin’ as the textbooks singe to nothingness, knowin’ that soon your body will follow, “Who’s going to teach the children?”

-----------------------

Kylo’s arm is around you, you realize, out there in the present. He’s stock-still, face gone pale, somber. He’s crying, you realize, jaw clenched tight, the muscle in his cheek flexing from the force of it. You’re crying too, wetness on your face. You watch as a tear plips into the rabbit stew, and you’re not entirely sure if it’s one of yours, or Kylo’s.

“The rest of the town came to my rescue, once the flames got so bright you could see ‘em from across the fields. They thought I was dead, when they found me.” You clear your throat, rememberin’ the details of the story that you had only found out after the fact, “I was covered in soot, breathed too much of it in, I wasn’t wakin’ up. I later found out that the sheriff didn’t let them give me a funeral, just told them to stick me in a coffin and gave me a shallow grave.”

Kylo remains quiet, but the arm around you tightens. You’re reminded of Francisco then, how he had protected you. You wonder where he is, what he’s doing. If he ever got to have a daughter.

“I was glad for that part at least, it wasn’t too hard to dig my way back out when I woke up. I must’ve only been there for a couple hours, the dirt wasn’t packed tight or nothin’, thankfully.” You sigh, not knowing when to stop, now knowin’ how to do any of this, how to be vulnerable like this. You ain’t had to be vulnerable in a long, long time.

“Must’ve been out of my mind, I had never thought about killin’ anyone before, you know. I was more angry about the loss of the school than I was for my own life, if you can believe. I hunted him down, the sheriff. He thought I was a ghost, and he hid from me. I found him in the end, doused him in kerosene and lit the sonofabitch on fire right on his front porch.”

You lean your head on Kylo’s shoulder, and ever so gently, he rests his cheek against you back.

“I was sixteen then, and “I’ve been burnin’ shit down to the ground ever since.” You whisper, voice almost lost by the trickle of the river as it flows down to Colorado.

“I’m sorry.” Kylo says, snuffling into your hair a little bit, holdin’ you close, a silent promise.

“It ain’t your fault.” You reply, fightin’ that sour feelin’ in the back of your throat, nudging your face a little closer into his neck.

“If I had been there, I would’ve helped you.” He says, even though you both know that there ain’t no changin’ the past.

“You’re here now.” You pull back enough to look at him, really look at him right in the eyes.

“Yeah, I am.” He nods.

You wonder, sometimes how life might’ve been different, but after all is said and done, this is the life you’ve got.

Kylo lies down then, one arm extended out from his body, an offer.

You don’t think twice about it, when you lay down next to him, your head usin’ that arm as a pillow. It wraps around your shoulder, tuggin’ you to Kylo’s chest, and for the first time in a long time, when you sleep, you don’t dream.

"I've always wished to be laid when I died

In a little churchyard on the green hillside

By my father's grave, there let me be,

O bury me not on the lone prairie."

"I wish to lie where a mother's prayer

And a sister's tear will mingle there.

Where friends can come and weep o'er me.

O bury me not on the lone prairie."

"For there's another whose tears will shed.

For the one who lies in a prairie bed.

It breaks me heart to think of her now,

She has curled these locks, she has kissed this brow."

"O bury me not..." And his voice failed there.

But they took no heed to his dying prayer.

In a narrow grave, just six by three

They buried him there on the lone prairie.

And the cowboys now as they roam the plain,

For they marked the spot where his bones were lain,

Fling a handful o' roses o'er his grave

With a prayer to God his soul to save.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

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Taggin' some Kylo lovin' friends!

@mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @kylo-ren-is-alive @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea @princessflip @goddessofsprings @mrs-gucci @baubub @bucky-j-barnes @mindyoshiii @beachwoodmonet @darkhairedmenrule @eagerforhoney @nekonaomitard @einmal-im-traum @justlenastuff @0nihiime

[preferredrealty]

My Love - A Draco Malfoy Imagine

Let’s give our man Draco a redemption shall we?

I was 10 years old the first time I ever watched Harry Potter, that was 10 years ago and now that I’m 20 I’m beyond thrilled that Tom Felton is getting the attention he deserves!! Anyway here is my first ever Draco imagine I hope you enjoy

Draco watched from across the courtyard as (Y/N) stood with an stern face, her eyes glaring straight at Voldemort, her eyes refusing to meet Draco’s.

Neville was yammering on about how they hadn’t actually lost Harry tonight but all Draco could focus on was (Y/N) and for a fleeting moment she met his gaze. His heart clenched as he realized tears were streaming down her cheeks, making two lean lines in the dirt that coated her face.

Suddenly every memory he had with (Y/N) flashed through his mind.

X

Draco smirked as the sorting had barely touched his head before it shouted Slytherin into the Great Hall, a eruption of cheers coming from the students wearing green and black.

Draco sat with a proud grin as other students got sorted, suddenly a small girl with a bright smile and wide (Y/E/C) eyes. She skipped happily up the steps taking her place beside Professor McGonigal.

The hat was hovered over her head. Draco took a second to look at the shine in her hair as the hat seemed to debate with itself.

“Slytherin!” It announced to the hall as Draco and the rest of the Slytherin house clapped and cheered.

The girl walked with a skip in her step until she got to the empty space on the bench next to Draco.

“May I?” She grinned gesturing to the seat.

With a nod Draco held out his hand.

“I’m Draco, Draco Malfoy.”

The girl shook his hand as she sat.

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N)”

X 

(Y/N) walked up the steps of the girls dormitories into the Slytherin common room just as Crabbe and Goyle ran past her both clutching their head.

“Those two are acting funny.” She hummed throwing herself down onto the leather couch as Draco moved towards the fire.

“Idiots the pair of them.” He snapped while tossing something green from his pocket into the fire.

(Y/N) shifted to make room for him to sit on the couch with her.

“How was quidditch practice?” She asked pulling a packet of Bertie Botts Beans from her pocket offering some to Draco.

He tilted a few into his hand, tossing one in the air catching it in his mouth.

“It was good, that broom is a speeding machine.” He bragged.

(Y/N) hummed as she chewed her own bean, groaning when she realised it was a nasty flavoured one. “What do you think of this whole Chamber of Secrets nonsense. I recon Granger will be the next to have her blood on the walls. Filthy mudblood.” Draco snarled, snapping his head to glare at (Y/N) as a bean hit him on the head.

“I warned you about speaking like that around me Draco Malfoy!” She glared back. “You may not like them and your family may disapprove of procreating between Muggles and Witches or Wizards but some of my best friends are ‘mudbloods’ and I will not have you speak of them in such ways!” (Y/N) snapped as she stood up ready to leave.

“Woah, woah wait I’m sorry!” Draco stammered as he grabbed onto (Y/N)’s robes. “I won’t do it again I promise.”

(Y/N) sighed as she dropped onto the far side of the couch throwing another bean in her mouth. Munching angrily on it.

“Hey.” Draco nudged her while holding up a bean. “Catch.” He tossed it in the air laughing as (Y/N) missed it, causing it to bounce off her forehead.

She giggled tossing one at him, which he caught effortlessly in his mouth.

Draco clapped his hands together and threw them in the air with a cheerful yell.

X

“Ooooh!” Draco teased Harry along with other Slytherin’s as he wiggled his fingers in a mocking way.

Hermione grabbed Harry dragging him away making a face at Draco.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes from where she leaned against the tree next to Draco, reaching over to the slap the back of his head.

“Hey how dare yo- Oh.” He paused as he looked at (Y/N) knowing he was in trouble for tormenting Harry.

“Honestly Draco grow up.” She huffed, turning her attention back to the class as Hagrid started to show off Buckbeak.

Draco gave a sarcastic smile as he leaned an arm above (Y/N)’s head on the tree looking down at her.

“Careful (Y/N/N), I’m starting to think you fancy Potter.” He reached out playing with the green and silver tie hanging loosely from her neck.

She looked away from Harry who was not stroking Buckbeak towards Draco. “And I’m starting to think your Jealous.” She smirked at him.

Draco’s cheeks tinted pink as he opened his mouth to make a comeback he was cut off by Harry yelling and the galloping of hooves.

“Oh wow.” (Y/N) whispered as she stepped away from Draco watching the Hippogriff soring through the air.

Draco stared at (Y/N) as she lifted a hand to block out the sunlight. She had grown quite a bit over the last summer, her curves had started to fill out and her hair had gotten longer, seemed more silky than usual. She was even starting to wear a little make up now.

He was brought out of his thoughts as classmates started to cheer, including (Y/N) as Hagrid helped Harry down from Buckbeak.

‘I could do that.’ He thought as he watched (Y/N) clap.

He stormed forward pushing through classmates until he was in direct line with the Hippogriff

“Yes, you’re not dangerous at all are you? You great ugly brute.” He spoke confidently as he approached Buckbeak.

Hagrid started to protest as Buckbeak reared back, striking Draco’s arm.

“Draco!” (Y/N) yelled as she gently moved students out of her way. Hagrid lifted Draco at Hermione’s request, his large body moving in the direction of the school. (Y/N) not far behind.

“You’re gonna regret this!” (Y/N) heard Draco mumble. “You and your bloody chicken.” At that she couldn’t help but giggle.

-

She paced outside the hospital wing waiting for Madam Pomphrey to let her in.

The two large doors cracked open and out stepped the schools nurse. “Dramatic one that one.” She said to (Y/N). “It’s nothing but a small break! Will be fine in a few days with my special brew!” The woman seemed to talk to herself before reaching out to open the door. “Go ahead dear, although a professional diagnosis for you, do not baby him. His ego doesn’t need it.”

(Y/N) shook her head with a laugh as she stepped in, spying Draco laying flat on his back, his right arm propped on a pillow and in a sling.

As she got closer she rolled her eyes seeing him with his eyes shut and a look of pain on his face.

“Poor baby.” She teased pushing his hair back from his forehead. Draco kept his eyes shut. (Y/N) smiled as she pulled a chair up to his left side of the bed. “I know you’re awake Draco.” She reached over to flick his nose gently.

Draco’s eyes shot open as he reached his left hand to his nose. “Ow! Kick a man when he’s down why don’t you?” He muttered

“Ha! Man? Where?” (Y/N) looked around jokingly. Draco mad a move to grab for her, forgetting about his arm for a moment before he released a yell of pain, left hand coming to cradle his right shoulder.

“Easy Draco!” (Y/N)’s joking expression dropped as she stood, leaning over to gently adjust his arm on the pillow. Draco stared at her as she leaned over him. His eyes lingering on the small gold chain he had given her for Christmas the year before, a dainty ‘D’ hanging in the middle.

Settling back in her seat (Y/N) got comfy.

“You’re the best thing in my life you know?” Draco asked out of the blue.

“What did she give you?” (Y/N) teased as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Draco made a move to sit up causing (Y/N) to reach forward putting a hand on his chest. “Okay Draco I believe you.” She smiled, taking his left hand in hers. “You’re one of the best things in my life too.” She gave his hand a squeeze.

Draco grinned as he entwined their fingers, raising her hand to kiss the back of it.

X

(Y/N) leaned her back against the tree as Draco and Harry got in each others face. Again.

“And you look pathetic.” Harry snarled as he turned to walk away.

Draco glanced back at (Y/N) who had now gotten comfortable on the ground leaning against the tree.

“Pathetic?!” Draco snapped reaching for his wand.

Professor Moody appeared from no where – charming Draco to turn into a ferret.

“Professor Moody, is- is that a student?” “Technically it’s a ferret.” Moody quipped as he pulled Crabbe’s robes open, placing the white ferret in his pants.

(Y/N)’s hands cupped her mouth as Goyle reached into Crabbe’s pants, jumping back when Draco bit him.

The surrounding students laughed as McGonigal turned Draco back into himself. (Y/N) stood up as he scrambled to his feet, whipping around to glare at Moody.

“My father will hear about this.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes sick of hearing him spewing the same string of words.

“If that a threat?” Moody yelled as he hobbled his way towards Draco – faster than (Y/N) expected him too.

A shriek left Draco’s mouth as he sprinted past (Y/N) around the tree. Moody hot on his tail.

Draco ran from the courtyard while McGonigal stood with her wand in Moody’s face threatening him.

Sighing (Y/N) reached for her bookbag, sliding it on her shoulder as she walked past McGonigal, who rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Check on Malfoy will you please dear?”

With a nod (Y/N) was on her way to find the white haired boy.

-

“He took off after we got here.” Goyle sighed as he sat on the couch of the Slytherin common room examining the bite on his hand. (Y/N) stepped forwards reaching for his hand inspecting the bite, pulling her wand from her robes she held up his hand. “Episkey.” She pronounced, patting the back of Goyle’s hand as the bite healed.

“If only there was a spell to heal a damaged ego.” She teased, rushing to her dorm, sliding into her emerald green one-piece bathing suit putting her robes back on over the top and to get her bag of toiletries knowing exactly where Draco would be.

Taking her time to get to the fifth floor she passed Boris the Bewildered statue, pausing at the fourth door before looking around to be sure nobody was watching.

“Pine Fresh.” She whispered, the lock on the door clicking open allowing her to slide in.

The tell tale sound of the many water taps running confirmed her notion that Draco had come to the prefects bathroom to relax. Since the beginning of their third year Draco had been sneaking into the prefects bathroom for baths – claiming it was the best bath in the world, (Y/N) had joined him on a few occasions.

Sliding off her robes leaving her in her swimsuit (Y/N) walked towards the bathtub.

Draco sat with his back to her, hands threading the mountain of bubbles in front of him.

“Mind if I join?” (Y/N) teased as she stood by the edge.

Draco jumped, whipping his head around to see her.

Despite the large windows, the room was dull colour as storm clouds gathered outside.

Holding his hand in the air, he shivered as (Y/N) placed hers in his, stepping carefully into the bath sitting next to him.

There was a easy silence between them as the sound of running water continued, the occasional whistle coming from the windows as the wind picked up.

“Suppose everyone’s talking hm?” Draco asked as he lifted a hand in the air, watching the droplets fall back into the pool.

Of course they were, but (Y/N) felt the need to cheer up her best friend. “About you? No. They’re more occupied laughing at Moody being threatened by McGonigal.

Draco hummed as he looked at (Y/N). The water sloshed around them as (Y/N) sunk a bit lower only the top of her shoulders and head above water.

“I love this.” She grinned. “I love the feeling of being under water.”

Chewing on his lip Draco watched his best friend trying to sift through the sudden tsunami of thoughts that occupied his brain. Groaning he leaned forward running his hands over his face.

(Y/N) placed her hand on his back, taking a moment to look at the slightly defined muscles there.

“Thoughts screaming again?” She whispered, her hand now moving the play with the slightly damp ends of his hair.

He nodded, a head ache starting to form as the thoughts continued to swirl, so many at once he couldn’t understand a single one.

(Y/N) was suddenly in front of him.

“Come here.” She held out her hand, slowly moving backwards into the water.

Like a swimming pool the bath gradually got deeper making (Y/N) have to tiptoe to keep her chin out of the water, Draco chuckled slightly, him still standing flat on his feet, shoulders and head above the water.

“Trust me?” (Y/N) asked as she grabbed his other hand too. “With my life.” Draco whispered, coming out more serious than he was expecting.

Giving a shy smile (Y/N) started to sink into the water, Draco following her lead.

Fighting back the sting Draco watched as (Y/N) came to a sit on the floor of the bath. He frowned but did the same.

His eyes met hers with a questioning look to which (Y/N) shook her head, reaching out to smooth the frown lines from his forehead. (Y/N) gestured to her head then made a silencing gesture with her lips before closing her eyes.

Draco frowned following her instructions, for a second he felt angry that it didn’t work but then he felt (Y/N) fingers tracing patterns on his arms. He focused on the sensation, shivers running up his spine as she gently traced her nails along his arms.

His chest started to burn from the lack of oxygen but he was convinced he would rather take his last breath right now than return to reality above the waters surface.

Opening his eyes, he looked straight at (Y/N) who seemed to be having the same debate with herself.

Uncrossing her legs, (Y/N) pushed herself to surface. Breaking through with a gasp she pushed her hair back as Draco came up too his eyes still locked on (Y/N). They had drifted slightly deeper (Y/N) was now kicking her legs to stay a float.

Draco laughed as his hands found her hips, pulling her closer so he was holding her above water.

“Did it help? It always helps me to go underwater when it all gets too much.” (Y/N) smiled pushing white strands of hair back from his forehead, almost resembling Draco’s first year hair.

Inhaling a sharp breath Draco licked his lips, looking up into her eyes.

“I don’t think it was the water that helped me.” Draco whispered, eyes flickering back and forth between (Y/N)s.

“Draco.” She whispered as he brought her closer, bodies now pressed together. (Y/N)’s legs came around him, ankles crossed at his lower back.

He leaned in slightly, his nose nudging against hers. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, trailing them slowly towards her lips.

“Draco.” (Y/N) gasped as he was suddenly staring into her eyes, a deadly serious look in his eyes.

He cupped her jaw with one hand, the other still looped around her waist keeping her close. “I’ll stop if you want me to.” He whispered licking his lips, eyes now staring at (Y/N)’s lips as she bit her bottom one nervously.

“Please don’t.” She whispered

Draco leaned forward, his lips finding (Y/N)’s in a gentle kiss. His heart beat sounded like a drum beating in his ears as he moved against her. The kiss was innocent, barely more than just their lips touching. (Y/N)’s hands came up around Draco’s neck as she pushed her lips a bit harder against his.

Pulling back Draco grinned at his blushing best friend as she leaned her head forwards, hiding her face in his neck.

“(Y/N)?” He whispered, the hand on her jaw now tracing shaped on her back.

She hummed in response, eyes closed as she cuddled into him.

“Will you go to the Yule ball with me?”

Pulling back (Y/N) giggled. “Of course I’ll go to the ball with you Draco.”

X

“Oh would you lot grow up!” (Y/N) snapped as she tossed a snowball at the back of Draco’s head, he stopped dead letting the second year himself, Crabbe and Goyle had been teasing go.

Crabbe and Goyle ducked their heads in shame, almost like they had been scolded by their mother.

“Sorry (Y/N/N).” They both whispered before taking off leaving (Y/N) and Draco alone in the snowy courtyard.

He walked towards (Y/N) hands grabbing the ends of the Slytherin scarf he was certain was his and pulled her closer. “It’s harmless fun (Y/N).” He grinned leaning in to kiss her. Only to be stopped by her glove covered hand cupping over his mouth.

“Fun for you. Hell for the kid.” She glared at him then sighed with a tired expression. “You promised me over the summer that you would stop this Draco.”

(Y/N) had spent almost the entire summer at Malfoy Manor with Draco and his family. Although there was some hesitation from them regarding (Y/N)’s ‘blood traitor’ status they still became rather attached to the girl.

Draco licked him lips and nodded. “I’ll try harder. I promise.” He kissed her forehead frowning at the ice cold skin.

“You’re freezing. Let’s go to the common room and get you warmed up.” He grabbed (Y/N)’s hand in his, walking at a slow pace with her through the corridors towards the dungeons. Thankful that it was a Saturday and quite a lot of the students had gone shopping to Hogsmeade.

The common room was empty save for a few younger students who sat silently at the wooden tables by the windows studying.

The roaring fire instantly began to thaw (Y/N)’s cold skin as Draco helped her remove her coat along with his own before falling back onto the couch, (Y/N) laying next to him with her head on his lap.

Draco’s hands traced the outlines of (Y/N)’s face as she lay with her eyes closed.

The younger students packed up their things and quickly left, intimidated by the two older Slytherins.

Continuing his movements Draco’s thoughts suddenly shifted to what life would be like after Hogwarts. A home with large windows came to mind, bright and warm on the inside a total contrast to his current home at the Manor. A black dog, a hyper little thing was also in his thoughts. Suddenly a thought so strong it almost felt like a memory came to his mind making his heart skip a beat.

He has just walked into the house, placing his briefcase and coat in the cupboard by the door. The wild dog ran towards him with it’s tail whipping back and forth. “Hello darling.” He cooed, the sound of music and dishes clattering in the background made him walk down a hall, past a set of stairs.

(Y/N) was swaying her hips to the music, a white summers dress swaying around the tops of her knees as she cleaned up the dishes, freshly baked cupcakes sat on the counter.

She turned her head, a vibrant smile making Draco smile back. “Hello my love, how was work?” (Y/N) giggled, casting a quick incantation to finish the dishes as she rushed across the kitchen her bare feet tapping against the white marble floor.

“It was great love, I just couldn’t wait to get home to you.” He grinned scooping her up in his arms, placing her on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Her feet crossed behind his back pulling him closer as she pressed delicate kisses along his jaw.

“Do I distract you Mr Malfoy?” She teased running both hands up his chest. Draco smirked, dropping his head to place a kiss to her lips, his hand grabbing her left, tracing the diamond ring on her finger. “Always Mrs Malfoy.”

Draco was pulled from his thoughts by a hand on his cheek.

“Draco?” He looked down at (Y/N)’s worried expression. “Are you okay love? You were dazed for a bit.”

Looking at her left hand that lay on her stomach Draco’s stomach sank when there was no ring there.

He suddenly ducked down kissing her.

(Y/N) gasped, the hand on his cheek moving to his hair as his lips moved passionately against hers.

He pulled back, his face moving an inch from hers as he grinned.

“I love you.” He whispered.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as she stared at him. A wide smile broke out on her face as she internally squealed.

“I love you Draco.” She whispered back, giggling as he dived down to kiss her again.

X

“He hasn’t spoken to you at all this year?” Pansy asked with a frown, taking in (Y/N)’s exhausted expression.

The bags under hear eyes were turning a darker shade by the day and her hair was tossed messily into a ponytail. Her jumper had become a size too big as the weight seemed to drop off her.

“Not since the train ride here.” (Y/N) whispered as she walked down the hall with her arms crossed over the her chest. The only reason Draco was even brought up in the conversation was because Pansy had told (Y/N) he was in the infirmary.

Pansy’s cold hand grabbed (Y/N)’s as stopped just before the stairs to the Slytherin common room.

“He’ll come around. He’s mad about you.” She whispered. (Y/N) nodded glancing around the hallway as tears filled her eyes again. “Look um – I’m gonna take a walk.” (Y/N) told Pansy as she turned to walk towards the Astronomy Tower. “It’s almost curfew! Be safe.” Pansy called after her.

-

(Y/N) was sitting under the wooden gangplanks suspended in the astronomy tower. Hidden in a dark corner, the wind whipping around her as she twisted the golden necklace around fingers.

A sudden whoosh from above made her jump.

“We need to get you to the hospital wing sir.”

She recognised Harry’s voice. She shifted to look through the cracks in the wood as Dumbledore begged Harry to get Professor Snape.

The sound of the Astronomy door opening alerted the three of them, causing Dumbledore to insist that Harry hid.

(Y/N) stepped out of the shadows as Harry whipped around to aim his wand at her. She raised her hands in the air, her heart sinking.

“Good evening Draco.” She heard Dumbledore speak causing her to snap her gave towards them from under the globe. She was about to call out to Draco but Harry launched forward, his hand covering (Y/N)’s mouth. Her back to his chest.

Static rang in her ears as she watched Draco, her mind not processing what he and Dumbledore were speaking about.

“He trusts me!” Draco snapped. “I was chosen!” He pulled up the sleeve of his to show a Dark Mark.

(Y/N)’s body shook with silent sobs as Harry held her tighter, her body growing weak as her knees gave out.

The door opened again causing Harry to back up, he hid (Y/N) behind a concrete post. Her body still in shock as she looked through the cracks again.

“Don’t you understand? I have to do this! I have to kill you or...he’s going to kill me! He’ll kill her!”

The Death Eaters surrounded Dumbledore as Bellatrix shouted in Draco’s ear to kill him.

A creak made (Y/N) peak around the post to see Snape shushing Harry.

She felt some hope grow in her chest for Dumbledore...and for Draco.

“No.” Snape states as he stepped up behind Draco.

“Severus...Please.” Dumbledore said.

The mood light broke through the clouds above, a ray of light shimmering off (Y/N)’s necklace catching Draco’s eye.

He looked down through the cracks, his eyes locking with hers as silent tears fell down her cheeks.

“Avada Kadavra!” Snape threw the curse at Dumbledore, sending him over the edge of the tower.

Draco was grabbed and pulled away, his mind stuck on (Y/N)’s tear filled eyes.

X

This was the first time Draco had seen (Y/N) since that night in the Astronomy Tower

“Harry died for us! For all of us! And it’s not over!” Neville yelled as he pulled the sword of Gryffindor from the hat in his hand.

Potter suddenly rolled from Hagrid’s arms to the ground, limping to his feet.

Draco’s eyes locked with his as Death Eaters around him began to run away.

He could fix this.

He could get that house with the big windows.

He could have the black dog.

He could marry his (Y/N).

He could be good.

“Potter!” Draco yelled as he ran forward tossing Harry his wand in the process.

The courtyard moved in slow motion around him, a explosion of fireballs to his left made him flinch but his eyes set on (Y/N)’s who was standing in shock, eyes locked on his.

He was almost with her when heard it. Words that made his body turn to ice.

“Avada Kadavra!” Voldemort’s voice rang over the chaos.

The flash of green light flashed past Draco’s head, striking (Y/N) in the chest.

“No!” He cried as he reached her. Catching her body from hitting the cold concrete. “No! No! Please!” He screamed, his right arm cradled (Y/N) to his chest, his left arm hovered over her. Trying to find a way to fix this.

“No. No love please!” He sobbed his head falling back as sobs ripped from his chest.

A shadow stood over him, causing him to tilt his head. Through blurry eyes he made out Voldemort standing there with a snarl on his face.

“You traitor.” Was all he said before rearing his arm back.

Draco tucked (Y/N) closer to his chest, both arms holding her tight as he tucked his head into her hair. “I love you.” He whispered.

“Avada Kadavra!”

.

.

.

.

.

“Love wake up!” (Y/N) shook Draco who was coated in sweat. “Baby it’s a dream!” She placed her hands on his cheeks as his eyes cracked open.

He shot up, arms curling around (Y/N) as he pulled her into his lap.

“You’re okay.” He whispered. Kissing all over her face making her giggle. “You’re okay.” He sighed as he dropped his forehead to her chest, feeling the cool metal of her gold necklace on his hairline.

“I’m okay.” (Y/N) confirmed for him. Her hands playing with his hair.

Something cold and wet nudged Draco’s arm making him pull back. (Y/N) giggled as she reached out to scratch the black Labradors head. “Sorry Willow, did we wake you?”

Draco glanced at the dog, reaching out to stroke her head before flopping backwards, sinking into the pillows behind him.

Willow made her way to the foot of the bed, laying back down as (Y/N) lay by Draco’s side, her left hand over his heart which was still beating hard.

He reached for the hand on his chest tracing the ring on her finger with a smile, it was the exact one from his dream. “Want to talk about it?” She whispered looking up at him. Draco shook his head, leaning to kiss her forehead.

“I just want to lay here with you.” (Y/N) smiled getting comfy. “Well I won’t say no to that.” 

~Feed back?

[obeywho-meduh]

Okay so yet another self indulgent piece thanks to my favorite monster bf artist ❤️💗💕 @cosmic-whorror

Inspirational pic [here]

Lost in the Labyrinth of Dreams with Minotaur Belphie

⚠️NSFW WARNING: Sadist Belphie x Fem!Reader, Dub-con, Blood, Penetration, Oral (male and female), Monster Fucking, Degradation, Choking, Hair pulling, ‘Dying in the Saddle’ (dying while having sex), Character death, Dark themes

I would like to state that this is indeed angsty smut BUT! Cause I’m such a smooshy bean, of course it had a good ending~

Enjoy my lovelies ❤️💗

She tried to move but his hold on her was as strong as ever. At least they were laying on his bed. “Belphie... Are you awake?” He had her body wrapped in a blanket and hugged her close to him, using her stomach as a pillow.

Belphie squeezed her waist and groaned, “No..” He buried his face against the soft skin of her abdomen, the added pressure tickling her.

Tittering as her fingers laced themselves in his hair, caressing his head while trying to adjust herself better. “If you want me to stay here tonight then I need to be able to breathe.”

He grunted, blowing warm air into her shirt before he lifted his head and looked at her, “Do you? You look so beautiful when you’re lifeless in my arms.” She thumped his forehead. “Ow…”

“Oh that didn’t hurt! And we talked about that!”

His eyes shifted to the side, “Mmmm...Well, that’s what you look like after I stuff you full of my milk.”

Her face flushed red and she wiggled her way out of his hold then turned to her body away from him, she wouldn’t admit that that particular thought, or rather that memory, sent a pleasurable jolt of excitement down to her apex. “I-I’m going to sleep!” He kissed her lower back before sitting up to now be to the big spoon and as his arms surrounded her, her back against his chest he then kissed the back of her head. Her eyelids suddenly felt heavier than before, she wasn’t actually sleepy and yet...

“Sweet…” Belphie’s voice softly echoed in her ear as her consciousness faded, “...dreams.”

—————

Screams filled the room around her as she ran down the never-ending hallways. No matter how many turns she would take there was no end in sight; no light except the occasional torch.

Was she going in circles?

How long had she been walking?

Where were the screams coming from?

Monstrous howling bellowed along with the screams and this time when she turned the corner, there were bodies, dead bodies.

A dark figure towered over them and a sense of horror and dread filled her thoughts. Her eyes only saw the hooved-feet before her mind said to run.

Her body didn’t move, her eyes didn’t leave the ground while whatever it was approached her, stepping past the massacre before stopping in front of her. Her eyes creeped up to get a full view of this creature.

Seeing its thick, hairy, bull-like legs connected to the muscular torso of a man, its chest was heaving, decorated with droplets of sweat and blood across its defined chest along with some black spots splattered along its shoulders..

[image courtesy of @cosmic-whorror with permission to share in this fic]

Without realizing, her eyes were locked with the creatures’ own beautiful and terrifyingly deep purple orbs. It tilted its head as it looked at her, then it reached its hand down and cupped her cheek. The touch was so soft and she found herself entranced.

“I’m going to enjoy destroying you.” Its voice was hoarse and deep as its hand came down to her throat and picked her up. Choking her while it lifted her to the wall, her hands gripped at its wrist while she gasped for air; kicking her legs only made it harder to breathe. “Look at how desperately you’re trying to breathe.” The creature grunted with an amused chuckle.

Her heart was racing and tears fell from her eyes, what was the point in fighting the inevitable? If she was going to die, why struggle? Her body calmed but she continued to hold the monster’s wrist, her grip lessening with each passing second until she was overcome by darkness.

She came to to the sounds of screams filling the room. She was running down the hallways, turning left and right then right and left, but there was no end. Her heart dropped and her body froze right before she turned the next corner. But why did she hesitate? Why won’t her body move forward? Her hand touched her throat as she started to back away. Then she could hear it, heavy breathing and the sound of something big walking towards the corner she dare not turn. A hand appeared from around the corner followed by black twisted horns and those eyes. Where had she seen them? Her legs gave out as the monster slowly revealed itself. As she sat on the ground, the creature kept its eyes locked with hers only stopping its advance when it was directly in front of her.

“Do you enjoy dying?” She watched as it lifted its foot and then brought it down to her stomach, pushing down on her as her body squirmed under its hoof. “You must, look at how you’re dancing under me.” It didn’t physically hurt, almost like she was suffocating. She wanted to push it away but the more she looked into its eyes, her will to fight back diminished. Her eyes started to close but before the overwhelming pain took her, it lifted its hoof off her. “I wonder if you’d be more afraid to live…”

Curled into herself, her hands gripped her sides gasping for air, before it grabbed her hair and began to drag her down the hallway. Struggling against its hold hurt, but so did the occasional rock or bone that it’d pull her over. The hallway started to get brighter and widened. The monster tossed her into a room encircled by stone, chains hung from the walls, and skulls decorated the floor. She landed on a pallet, some hay poked her as she began to sit up.

“You’re going to be mine unless you prefer to die? Not that you won’t be begging for death after I’ve taken you.”

Clenching her fist she holds it to her chest, “Y-Yours? Take?”

It got down and crouched beside her, blowing out hot air from its snout, the force making its septum piercing sway, “I am male and you are female.” Her body shivered as she instinctively tried to back away and he grabbed her chin. “Therefore you are going to be my heifer and take my seed until you’re a pathetic lifeless mess.”

Lifeless.

Trying to recall where she’d heard that, she wondered why she wasn’t scared of him but then he pulled her up as he stood, yanking on her arm to get her to stand with him. He backed her against the wall, head coming down to trap her head between his thick horns. “Arms up.” His eyes followed her as she raised her arms and he put them in the chain cuffs; they were cold on her wrists. As he locked the cuffs around her wrists, she took a moment to look down at her body.

To her surprise, she was already unclad, but where did her clothes go? Had she been naked this whole time? No... she had something on before...so when?

His hand grabbed at her throat again, its claws pressing against her pulse. “Get all thoughts out of your head. Only think of how much of my milk your stomach will be able to take.”

My milk.

Without hesitation he took hold of her legs and lifted them. She couldn’t see it but she felt it. All of it. His cock stuffed her, tears filled her eyes and she inhaled sharply to release a high-pitched screech as her body convulsed around his thick girth. The bulge it created in her stomach terrified her, there was nowhere for her to run.

The chains clanged as his hips moved against hers, she thought she was crying out but her screams were muffled. No not muffled. She couldn’t make any sound at all. But wasn't she able to before?

She looked down at his hand covering her mouth, then it moved so his claws could push inside her. When did his hand move from her throat? He toyed with her tongue as his thrusts grew more sporadic and violent causing her back to crash against the cold, stone wall each time. The unforgiving surface scratched at the cuts on her back; she could feel the warmth from her blood dripping down her skin. Sucking on his fingers, her drool fell down her chin. Feeling herself coming close to the brink, she writhed against the restraints, arching her body to feel more.

His grunts were rapid as his cock swelled inside her, he took his fingers from her mouth and picked her up by her thighs opening her more. He bucked hard, she could hear his hooves pound the ground in unison with his pace. His angle changed and it felt like he was going to break her back. “P-Please stop...Aaahh..I-It hurts!!”

As the words escaped her, he seemed to get irritated and slammed her against the wall as he thrusted. When her back hit the wall, his cock angled differently and the momentum made his cock curve, it hit the base of her pelvic bone, breaking it from her spine. Her vision faded as her body registered the pain, everything went black.

Before she knew it her eyes opened, her mind panicked as it saw the Minotaur standing before her. “W-What are you!?” Didn’t she just die? Wasn’t he just fucking her? Why did it look like her body was back to the way it was before?

His hand grabbed her neck, “Just a nightmare.” Her mind started to piece itself together, the familiar sensation of having his hand around her neck. Each thrust gave her the pleasure and pain she longed for. And only he knew how to take everything she had, including her life. His eyes that captured her time and time again, upon realization she didn’t know how to react except to utter his name. “..Belphegor…”

The room around them seemed to dim and the once red flames of the torches turned a bright blue. It made his eyes shine brighter while the bullhead faded to darkness and Belphie’s face replaced it. “Why’d you have to go and ruin the fun I had planned?” A smirk creeped across his face. His hand moved from her neck to grip her jaw, “What am I saying? I still plan to break you in two again…” He came down and licked her lips, “Just like I did before, my pitiful little toy.”

She shook her head while her legs squirmed trying to get away from his grasp.

“Where the fuck do you think you can go? You can’t run from me Y/N, you are mine to love for as long as I want. And what’s better! You’re in my playhouse so let’s not hold back.”

Attempting to keep up with his words, it only made sense that this was a dream. Well, as he said before, a nightmare... She tried to imagine herself without the chains, seeing if she had any control in her own dream. “What do you mean hold back?” It almost seemed as if he really was in full control, so there was no telling what he had in mind.

“I can fuck you relentlessly and kill you without anything happening. And we can repeat it, over and over. Doesn’t that sound like fun Y/N? I can make any of your fantasies come true, just think about it.”

She’d had thoughts of Belphie doing numerous degrading things to her, punishing her, using her as his own personal fuck toy, his cock-sleeve, but how could she tell him? “B-Belphie.. I..” Her eyes fell from his gaze and looked at his still half beast body.

He took hold of chin and started to laugh, “Ohh Y/N, I should tell you I can see your dirty thoughts as you think about them. And my my, you have some very fun fantasies, you filthy little whore.”

Before she could rebuttal her mouth was covered with a ball gag, as she turned her head the walls had disappeared around them and they just seemed to be in a void. Her body quivered as her eyes returned to his. They were so intoxicatingly luminous, and she could feel her body heat up as she shook her head.

“Oh don’t cry~” His smile seemed innocent, “If you cry too much, I might just keep you in here until you’ve drowned us in your tears.” His face reverted back to that of a more humanoid bull, his horns extended out further than normal as he grabbed her ankles and lifted her body up. He hung her legs on his horns while his hands moved to hold her waist. Her apex trembled as his thick tongue pushed its way into her folds, curling and flicking itself around inside of her.

His lips covered her lower ones as the void echoed out the noises of him working his tongue inside her. She bit down on the gag while her legs clenched onto his horns, her climax crashing over her faster than expected. He sucked and lapped at her juices then quickly he bit down on her clit making her arch her body using his horns as support. She fell back yanking him a bit as she did. Lifting her legs he moved them from his horns to his shoulders and pulling his tongue away he panted, “What a greedy little toy you are.” He then pulled away and let her body swing from the chains that still held her by the wrists.

“It’s my turn to cum.”

She blinked and her whole body had changed position, the ball gag and chains were gone. Belphie now straddled her chest, his cock laying across the side of her face. Finally seeing it, she saw the outlines of veins bulging and pulsating against its thickness, similar to his real one. However, this cock has an ombré color, black from the base halfway to the shaft then grey up to a soft pink at the very tip. As she turned her head to see it more there were a few black spots around the halfway point, her heart raced and chest heaved.

Saliva gathered in her mouth, his eyes narrowed down at her. “Well?” In his position she couldn’t reach her hands around his bull-like legs to grasp his massive erection. He scoffed then grabbed her hair as he pushed his thumb inside the corner of her mouth, pulling her cheek. Her mouth opened as she whimpered and he pressed the tip inside, passed her lips. “Good thing you don’t have to breathe in my playground.” Both his hands returned to her hair, his grip tight as he started to buck his hips.

Her hands tried to push him away because despite the lack of needing to breathe, the feeling of his cock stretching her throat made her see stars. Unfortunately his strength was still evident, but the feel of his hairy lower body was soft and muscular. She started to ease in her frantic thoughts and let her arms hook around his legs. Attempting to work her tongue seemed to be useless as his excessive thrusting left no room for any additional stimulation. Gagging repeatedly and not passing out from lack of air was comforting but also overwhelming as he fucked her mouth mercilessly.As his cock grew in her throat, it created a bulge that was visible from her neck and Belphie grunted out as it pulsated. His hot seed shot down her, burning like a strong whisky as the heat of it spread through her body, her eyes fluttering with tears as the amount of cum she swallowed expanded her stomach. He pulled his cock out of her mouth and watched as his cum dripped on her face. She coughed making some of his cum decorate her chest, “B..Bel..” Her breathing went from non-existent to heavily panting as he stood up from her.

He lifted his hoof then stepped down on her stomach, laughing as she flailed to grab at him. “Want to see one of my fantasies?” Applying pressure as he pushed his hoof down more making her cough, gagging and throwing up more of his cum. “Hahaha! Look! I turned you in a gushing geyser!” Lifting his leg to remove his hoof, he kept laughing, “You’re a pitiful fucking sight,” He reached down and grabbed her throat, “Let’s make it better. Actually, I should be more honest with you. It’s only going to get worse~”

Her tear filled eyes filled with wanton pleasure as her mind filled with the multitude of ideas continued to flow, and as she tried to speak, “Beep Beep Beep.”

Belphie looked up to the light that emerged at the top of the void, “Son of a-”

—————

“Mmm..” Her eyes slowly opened and they looked up at the familiar ceiling of the twin’s room, and she reached over to turn off the alarm on her phone. Then her thoughts collected, the beast, the fucking and her quivering core that was acheing for more of him and her eyes quickly shifted to try to find him. He still had her in his arms, laying beside her with his head buried in her hair, “Belphie..a-are you awake?” Turning her head so his lips rested on her forehead.

“No thanks to you..” He sighed against her and pulled away a bit, she looked up and saw his sluggish face yawn. “And since we’re both awake.. why don’t we continue where we were?” In a swift motion, he was on top of her, his knee between her inner thighs and his hand around her throat.