#deformed loaf

[msfangirlgonewild]

Meet these deformed furries of Bridgerton: A loaf (s2) and a bunny (QC).

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 6: Harvest Season

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering.Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 5083 words.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

The cold morning tickled your toes protruding from the blankets that barely covered your body. You curled into a ball as you slept with your five sisters while the sun peeked through the hills of the green valley. They were squashed together like sardines to make the most of the small bed's cramped space. The room in the cabin where they lived was practically empty, they only had a small closet with all their clothes, some stuffed animals for decoration and a semi-transparent white cloth that served as a curtain. You were in your fifth dream when you felt a hand pulling your foot. You snapped your eyes open to see your mother at the end of the bed. 

“Let’s go to the market,” she asked you as you whittled your eyes wide awake. 

You nodded in response so as not to wake your sisters. You carefully slipped out of bed to get dressed in a brown dress, you wore it so much that it already had holes in the skirt. Your mother had sold most of your fancy dresses, so your sisters could buy new ones for the dances they were invited to. Your mother was always obsessed with the idea that one of her daughters would marry a rich man and take them all out of the misery in which they lived. Every morning she used to repeat the same thing: “Up my future princesses because men don't flirt themselves.” You quietly left the room and picked up the old worn-out basket they used to carry the loaf of bread and potatoes they could afford to buy. 

Since your father died a couple of years ago, money was always tight. Your mother, to keep her hopes up and not starve to death, had slowly sold all the furniture in the house. She started with the living room, then the dining room, then her bed and then the decorations. Little by little, they were running out of options. Someone had to sacrifice in the work field, and your mother would not be one of them. 

The sun was barely rising over the green horizon. It was too early to go to the human market, but you just followed your mother without question. The grass crunched under your worn boots and the cool air ruffled your hair. As you walked along the path you had created from the many times you had gone to town, your mother was quieter than usual. She was a hard woman to keep quiet, always having to have an opinion on something. “The mornings are horrible,” “it hasn't rained in months,” “everything is more expensive.” She always prattled on about any topic that crossed her mind, but today she was different. She just looked straight ahead, walked hurriedly and hadn't even wished you good morning. “Maybe she wants some peace,” you thought. You should have realized it at the time. 

You knew you reached the main town when the smell of fish intensified. Every morning, fishermen set out to sell their booty among the busy main streets of the Sukuna kingdom. A place full of humans who were ruled by curses. Since King Sukuna had conquered their lands along with his army more than five hundred years ago, the humans who had already lived there for centuries became easy prey for the hideous deformed monsters. Half of the population was eaten, while the other was left alone as soon as their stomachs were full. The only thing that stopped them from eating more was their own limits. From then on, the curses began to coexist with the humans. Only instead of treating them as equals, it was a cow-butcher relationship. 

Since the curses owned the main town, it was rare to see so many humans walking down the street. They were all heading in the same direction, the gloomy castle of King Sukuna. A striking architectural structure of charcoal color and huge windows with blood-red roses. It was so large that despite being surrounded by towering walls, you could still admire the rest of the castle and its imposing watchtowers. Your astonished gaze kept going up to admire the terrible place. Your eyes could not continue because the top of its towers were hidden among the gray clouds and the vultures flying overhead. 

Unfortunately, they had not arrived at the market but at the gigantic wooden bridge that led into the castle. Several curses in fine armor paraded around the perimeter as you watched two of them lead a lady into the castle. Your breath hitched as you realized what day it was. Today was harvest day. Once a year, King Sukuna asks those who want to work for him to report to the castle and in return their families would be rewarded financially, but everyone knows it's a trap. No one knows exactly what goes on inside the castle, but a tyrant who mistreats his people does not usually offer “work.” All the people know that once you enter his castle, you don't get out. Even though it is known that entering his castle was like entering a torture machine of your own free will. People in need of money or resources send older relatives or children they can't support to get rid of them. 

You dropped the basket in shock at why your mother had only woken you up so early and was so quiet. She was about to sell you. As soon as the basket creaked against the floor, you ran away to avoid your painful fate as the daughter who was betrayed by her mother. You didn't manage to run that far, because two curses pinned you to the ground. You screamed, kicked and twisted your body in failed attempts to escape. Your eyes filled with tears as soon as the curses lifted you off the ground to drag you back to the castle. It was the end, you knew that for a fact. 

“We must part ways, my adorable daughter,” your mother said goodbye without looking you in the eye. 

“Are you really going to sell me to the tyrant? You know what happens to those who enter!” You yelled while tears fell desperately down your cheeks. 

“Don't be like that, you know we need money. The king may be a tyrant, but sometimes he is generous,” she said as he showed you the sack of gold coins the curses give her for you. 

100 gold coins. That was all you were worth. All your years of life equaled a year's worth of food. Not even luxuries, expensive furniture or beautiful clothes. Your mother had traded you to eat one more year without worry. You hang your head in defeat. She was treating you as if you were a nuisance. One more pitiful mouth to feed. 

“I can work at the market, at sea, in mining, in anything!” You protested. 

“How are you going to work there? I educated you as a young lady so you could marry a rich man, and you failed me,” she emphasized, spitting in your face the disappointment she felt. 

Your chest ached, snot was building up in your nose and your eyes were beginning to redden from the hot tears coming from your sad heart. Your head was starting to hurt, you couldn't believe this was happening to you. You were always a good daughter. You were the perfect daughter, polite and compliant. What have you done wrong? The frustration of not being able to do anything was eating you alive.  

“Think of your sisters. With this money, they will be able to buy new dresses to impress rich men. Next week there is going to be a ball, they say King Gojo will be there,” your mother said excitedly. 

“Say goodbye to your mother, we must get you to the castle.” A curse ordered you with a harsh voice. 

“I don't have a mother anymore,” you mumbled between sobs. 

“My sweet daughter, don't be like that…” your mother called you with disappointment. 

“And you no longer have a daughter,” your mother gasped, surprised at the minimum act of rebellion. 

From the time you were a little girl, your parents knew you would be a good girl. You always did everything orderly, knew what to say to stay out of trouble and educated your sisters when they were wrong. You were the perfect daughter in their eyes. The only thing you weren't good at was talking to men. At dances none of them would come up to you and none of them would catch your eye. While the sister next in age to you, Yorozu, danced with almost everyone, you always stood on the sidelines as you watched the night unfold. Your mother always scolded you on the way home for not being good enough to get a husband, but that never mattered to you. You knew inside that someday you would marry a good man who could see your true potential. 

Curses threw you into the parade ground and closed the gate behind you. You felt worse than dirt itself, you wanted to lie on the ground where you belonged. You wished the earth would swallow you up and disappear at that instant, anyway, you had nothing left to fight for. You didn't even have the strength to cry anymore. 

A loud sobbing sound reached your ears, causing you to look up. A little blond boy was crying his eyes out as he desperately searched for his mother. You were in the same situation as him, only you didn't have a little teddy bear to cheer you up. In a place full of old people, no one wanted to pay attention to you. No one had enough energy to soothe the crying of a frightened child. 

You stood up and dusted off your dress. Quietly, you approached the child with a red face from crying. He was dressed in a torn white shirt and dirty overalls. He couldn't have been more than 10 years old. You got down on your knees to stand by his height and wiped away his tears with your thumbs before shaking off his clothes.

“I want my mommy,” the boy shouted as he sniffled. A lump rose in your throat. You wanted the one you used to have too. 

“She'll be back. You just have to be a good boy, alright?” You asked with a weak smile. The boy nodded as he rubbed his watery eyes. “Whatever you do, just behave well and she will come back.”

 “Do you promise me?” he asked you between sobs, raising his little pinky towards you. 

“Of course,” you answered, intertwining his little finger with yours. 

An old woman approached you both. A granny with a cotton head, raisin skin and a sketchy smile, handed him a piece of candy she had in the pocket of her once-white apron. The boy gladly accepted it, forgetting for a second why he was crying in the first place. Children were always easy to please. 

“Poor little boy. He hasn't even started his life, and he's already this lucky,” the old woman whispered to you as you watched him eat the candy and play with his teddy bear perched on the grass. You could only nod in sorrow.

After an hour of waiting and watching the curses hurl more sold humans onto the parade ground. The doors of the gigantic castle opened. A white-haired person with a red stripe and splendid white robes made an appearance along with a scroll under their arm. You stepped in front of the boy to hide him behind you. 

“Welcome to this year's harvest. Thanks to your relatives or communities, you have been chosen as the most useless beings of this year. So the great king Sukuna has decided to give you the opportunity to work for him as servants,” The person began to read the scroll aloud in front of everyone. 

A collective sigh was heard when he read the word “useless”. Most of them, being elderly, already knew that they were only a burden to their families. Therefore, there was no need to stress it further. It was like squeezing lemon on an open wound. 

“As every year, we give those who are completely useless a chance to leave. King Sukuna needs real servants and not stupid dogs.” Along with that announcement, the castle gates opened.

There it was, the door that would lead them to freedom right under their noses. Hearing that, most of them ran towards their escape route, desperate to return home to their loved ones. You took the child in your arms and were about to run away until the thought that the offer was too good to be true settled in your mind. “Those who go in, never come back” you thought. 

“Come on, dear, let's go,” the kind old woman asked you while she pulled you by the arm to escape quickly. 

“If they do this every year, why doesn't anyone come back home?” You asked her. “It's a trap, I can feel it.” The old woman looked at you puzzled at first, but understood your point after processing it for a couple of seconds. She was so blinded by the brilliant exit that she hadn't boasted about it. 

Once the first to escape was about to reach the door, the grille slammed shut. The evil laughter of hundreds of curses echoed through the place like a war chant. In less than a second, a gigantic flock of armored curses began to eat all those who were about to flee. A massacre, desperate screams and blood spraying everywhere. You had never seen anything like it in your life. You knew the curses were evil and ate humans, but you never thought it would be such a disastrous sight. You covered the child’s eyes. The lady covered her face as she realized the hell they had been sent to. 

“Traitor dogs do not deserve to live,” the white-haired person said as soon as no human who had tried to escape was left alive. 

“You were right…” the old woman whispered next to you between silent sobs. 

You looked back at the front of the castle while your eyes were still drowning in tears. The person who was summoning you was glaring at you, as if offended by your mere presence. You looked around, less than half had stayed. The other elders were crying, vomiting and some lucky ones hadn't even turned around to see what was happening. Your arms were shaking from the cold of the morning and the terror that consumed you whole. You squeezed the child against your body to protect it. A little creature was not to blame for being in a place like that. You had to protect him, it was the only way he would have a chance to survive. 

“I congratulate you for surviving the first round. My name is Uraume, and I am the right hand of your king, Sukuna Ryomen,” they introduced themselves in a loud, monotone voice so that we could all hear them. “Next you will introduce yourselves to the king. He will have the final word as to your fate,” they explained before returning to the castle. 

After finishing their feast, the other curses rounded up the survivors to form a line in front of the castle gates. They were sheep being led by shepherds who were also wolves. No one said a word, they only obeyed by bodily proximity to where they were supposed to be. You did not let go of the child at any time, you had already proclaimed yourself as his guardian. Maybe it wasn't the best idea in hell, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You were willing to protect him as if he were one of your little sisters. 

Your beloved little sisters. You hid your face in the little boy's hair so no one would see you cry. Once you entered the castle, you would never leave, either by slavery or death. You would never see your lovely sisters again. You would never see them play, comb each other's hair or sing happily after dinner. You cursed the time when you had grown up and were not woman enough not to marry someone. In your mother's eyes you were a disappointment and were to be discarded. You only prayed internally that your sisters would not have the same fate. Yorozu was only a year younger than you. If she did not marry soon, she too would be sold. 

The survivors passed 5 at a time into the castle. The walls were so thick that they could not hear what was happening on the other side. There were 5 more people left, and it was your turn to pass next to the old woman, who was repeating the same silent prayer several times. The curse at the front of the line signaled the 5 people to pass, making everyone move in sync. 

“The child must enter,” the curse ordered you. 

“But they already let 5 in. It's his turn to go in when I go in,” you defended, holding the little boy tightly. 

The curse smiled maliciously before snatching the child from your hands. The difference in strength was crazy. You managed to grab the child by his white shirt to prevent him from being stolen. The child began to cry out loud because the curse had hooked its claws into his back. The curse pulled harder on the boy, leaving you with only the torn piece of cloth in your hand. As you tried to reach him again, the curse kicked you in the stomach so that you fell to the ground. Your body fell, and your eyes could only watch as the boy was mercilessly thrown along with the others. 

“Just do what they ask you to do!” You shouted at the boy between sobs before another curse kicked you in the face to shut you up. 

The last thing you could see was his face full of tears and snot as you bled from your nose incessantly. The castle doors slammed shut as the curses taunted you. You didn't care what they had to say, you just wanted the child to be okay. The woman you had befriended helped you up as your chest closed, and your eyes hurt from crying. You couldn’t do it anymore. 

After about 10 minutes, the doors opened again. The curse kicked you in the back to get you inside. The old woman and three other old men followed close behind. A servant with a grim face welcomed you and led you into the king's hall. A room filled with luxuries along the walls, costly works, candles bathed in gold foil and glowing obsidian candelabras. It was a pity that the beautiful room was bathed in the dark blood of your kind. The walls were splattered, some candles had been extinguished because of it, and there were several dismembered bodies all over the room. 

Despite being surrounded by light sources, the deepest part of the room was in complete darkness. Where you assumed the throne was supposed to be, there were many curtains that kept the king in the shadows. The only thing you could see was one of his giant feet being struck by the light of a nearby candle. 

The servant asked them to stand in a side row so that the king could get a good view of them all. Once they obeyed, the servant retreated at a brisk pace. Everyone was silent. You could only hear their breaths being disturbed by the situation they were in. Your eyes traveled around the room. The bodies of the discarded individuals were cut into hundreds of cubes, making your blood run cold. It was an extremely perfect job, almost impossible to do. Had the king done that or was someone else in the room with them? You didn't want to see, but it was like a morbid exhibition of what an abominable being could do.

Your eyes roamed around the room in curiosity and terror, until they saw a teddy bear soaked in blood. The teddy bear of the child you swore you would protect. The child's head had been cut off, his eyes had popped out of his skull and were held in place by its corneas, and the rest of his body was completely mutilated into perfect rectangles of flesh. You closed your eyes and clenched your skirt to keep from screaming in despair. The frustration and disappointment in you could not be compared to anything else. You could do nothing to save him. You were pathetic. 

“5… 4…” The king started the countdown. For what? You had no idea. 

You knew you wouldn't have the answer if you asked him because of his reputation as a foul tyrant. You didn't know much about the dastardly king who reigned over the land of your birth, the only thing you knew was that he hated humans more than anything else in the world. You looked around for answers as to what exactly the king wanted. Nothing about the decorations gave you answers, the only thing that kept catching your attention were the bodies. “If he has servants, why are the bodies still here?” you thought the servants would get rid of them before bringing in any more prospects. 

“3…” His deep voice echoed through the walls along with a devilish smile. 

Sukuna watched you comfortably from his large stone throne, hand carved by the best sculptors in the region. He was amused to see your eyes darting everywhere. “What a fool,” you thought disdainfully. Nothing in the room could help you know what to do. 

“2…” You could hear a small smile escape his lips as he approached 0. 

You analyzed the bodies before you and they all met the same characteristic. None of the heads were connected to the rest of the body. Their heads had been cut off before they were mutilated. If none of them had heads, it is because they must have been at the same height, that is, they were standing when their heads were cut off. Standing in front of a tyrant? Complete blasphemy. That was it. That must have been it. 

“¡1!” 

“Get down, ma'am!” you yelled before pulling the lady down to the floor with you so she could kneel. 

You knelt with your head on your hand as a pillow while the other still held the lady's arm. A thin slice rang through the room. It was so fast that you didn't hear a scream or even a whimper, you only heard the bodies of the others in the room fall to the floor under their own weight. The blood of the old man next to you began to trickle down to your fingers. You didn't dare look at the result of what had happened. You were just relieved that you were in one piece. 

“Finally… Someone with manners,” the king uttered with disdain. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it wouldn't go away. “The one in the middle, come closer,” he commanded. You were dead, you sensed it. 

You struggled to your feet and walked towards him without looking his way. You entered his little sacred place in the middle of the dark, but you could see him clearly. His pink legs were gigantic. His thigh was thicker than your legs put together. That already gave you hints of the giant in front of you. Despite being dressed in a large white robe, he still showed enough skin to be considered vulgar. As soon as you approached, his hand took your head easily as if it were a ball, directing your gaze towards him. Your eyes widened at the eerie sight in front of you. A malevolent face split in half that watched you morbidly. His four eyes roamed your body shamelessly. His half-naked body tattooed with different lines astonished you at a closer look.  

“How old are you?” He asked you while he moved your joints with his four arms as if you were a doll he could play with. You answered obediently between stutters. “Tell me, did your husband sell you?” he answered with a mocking tone. 

“I am not married, my king,” Sukuna arched an eyebrow at that response. You decided to elaborate your answer to that reaction. “My mother sold me because I didn't marry.” 

“You are still old enough to get married,” Sukuna said, still not letting go to observe you better. 

He turned and moved you around like a globe to inspect you completely. It's been a long time since I've seen a girl of your age, to be always in the castle or conquering lands, she always sees young men but almost never women. For someone of the lowest possible class, you had your certain charm. Sukuna saw you as if you were a strange doll in an antique store, odd but striking in your own way. 

“We were starving, my king.”

“It shows,” he replied with a certain mocking tone. “You know… I'm not used to seeing girls like you around here. They always send me decrepit old men or children who didn't die in their mother's womb,” he explained, annoyed. 

Despite the terrifying distance and the fact that your heart was pounding a mile a minute, you were glad he wasn't hurting you. He grabbed you by the head as if he were examining a fruit to dictate whether he could eat it or not, but he didn't squeeze you as if he were squeezing you between his claws. 

“I keep the old people because they work the hardest for their daily meal and I kill all the children because I hate how loud they can be.” You quickly realized right there that you never had a chance to save the child. An unruly tear rolled down your cheek, taking a second to mourn the little boy in silence. “So tell me, what should I do with you, kill you outright or give you a chance?” he asked you with a sinister smile. 

“Dying before I live through hell doesn't sound so bad,” you thought pessimistically. What was the point of going on living? Your mother had sold you, and you trusted that your sisters would marry before you, especially Yorozu, so you didn't have to worry about her. You no longer felt you had any value, but you were afraid of dying. That inexplicable, but useless fear left you frozen. Why did you want to keep breathing if you weren't going to live anyway? Your mind couldn't make up its mind. 

“I trust your decision, my king,” you replied in a sigh of surrender. 

Sukuna's smile disappeared, he did not expect that answer. I thought you would beg him for mercy for your life, but you had completely surrendered to him, leaving your fate in his hands. He smiled again, this time, satisfied. 

“Why?” he asked curiously. 

“Because you always have the last word.” 

“Interesting,” He answered before pulling you by the neck to bring you closer to his face. “You are someone special, aren't you?” Sukuna asked with eyes full of interest in you. He had found a gold nugget in a pile of shit. 

Your eyes slowly drifted to his. Have you heard correctly? Had he, an almighty king, called you special? You no longer knew if your heart was pounding from the flattery or being so close to the king. You were so close that you could decipher what he had for breakfast that morning, probably people. 

“Do you know how to cook and clean?” he asked quietly. You just nodded. “Well, you better not let me down,” he reluctantly let you go, making you stumble backwards. “Now get out of here with that old bitch so you get your uniforms,” he ordered with a harsh tone. 

“Thank you, my king. I will not disappoint you,” you thanked him with a weak smile as you bowed several times before retreating from his presence. 

Sukuna couldn't take his eyes off you. You ran to the shocked lady to help her out of the bloody room. She laid her head on her fist as she followed your anatomy. There was something about you that caught her attention. You were submissive, but you were not stupid. You were perceptive, but not rebellious. He liked what you had offered him so far, he just needed to do a little more observing. 

“Thank you very much, thank you, child, you saved my life!” The old woman cried once they left the room into a candle lit hallway. A small smile crept onto your face. You may not have saved the child, but you saved your new friend. “I am forever in debt with you.” 

“No need, ma'am,” you said so as not to make her feel guilty. 

“Mrs. Inoue,” she introduced herself in tears as she bowed politely, you did the same as you let her know your name. 

They both walked until they reached the end of the hallway where the few survivors were. An uncomfortable silence ruled the place. Mrs. Inoue and yourself sat down on a small bench to wait for instructions. Uraume and a group of servants carrying piles of clothes arrived not long after. Sukuna's right hand looked at everyone with disdain as the servants handed out the uniforms to the new servants who would be under her command. “So she survived…” they thought interested of you as you changed out of the old brown dress into the new uniform. 

You lifted the wet apron against the sunlight to check it for any unwanted stains. Your first anniversary as Sukuna's servant was a month away. You couldn't believe that you were about to complete one lap around the sun since you survived the harvest and received your maid's uniform. A long black dress with a contrasting white apron with black boots and a scarf in your hair to keep your hair off your forehead. You returned the apron to the sink to continue washing it by hand with soap and water. A small smile crept in as you realized you had survived the worst, you just hoped you had the same luck for the rest of your life. Now, you could rest for a very deserving week. 

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Masterlist.

[f1-giuki]

Hi my darling!! 🤍 hope you’re doing well! 🥰

I would love to read a drabble for ‘Never figured you for this much of a cuddler’ with Lestappen?

Hello darling💖💖💖 I'm barely holding up, stupid university😭😭 but this prompt breathed life into me!! While I was writing it my fucking finger slipped on the post button but half of it was missing sjsjsjsjjs, but now it's complete!!

Hope you like this darling, ilysm🥺💖

-

If you ask anyone on this side of the Solar System, they would tell you that Charles Leclerc is the definition of beach guy. He can't put up a tent, hiking a mountain is fun only if he gets do it for a short amount of time, and he gets bored of travelling from city to city. Professional deformation and fear of being mobbed. Charles Leclerc loves with all his being the Sun on his skin, cheeky tan lines and the salty breeze of the sea. Once a beach guy always a beach guy.

But this doesn't count when you're walking on the soft and wet July sand with that thing... The thing being Pierre's new dog, the dumbest and most adorable labrador puppy Charles has ever seen. How he picked up the job, watching over the cute puppy, that's a mystery, he only remembers Pierre saying something about him being a moping bitch after his recent breakup and dumping the dog on him. He also remembers Pierre's girlfriend's texts saying sorry, what Pierre wanted to say is that the dog looks like a valid alternative to being sad, walking with a cute puppy peeks the interest of many people!

Yeah, half of the beach has looked at him, since his acquired pet has rolled over it for the most part, sort of peeing everywhere before Charles held him to do its things in the sea. It's probably weird stares and questionable laughs he got since he got out with the dog. Not approving looks or lustful glances.

He's half thinking about doing a walk of shame and go back to the beach entrance and go back home when he sees them, sitting on a purple beach towel. Max fucking Verstappen and his cat, probably Sassy because the feline is not on Max's lap but rather sleeping in a loaf position. Don't ask how he knows it. He can see the fond look on the Dutchman's eyes as he gently strokes the fur of his friend. Charles finds himself smiling at the scene.

He's about to wave at Max from a safe distance and proceed with his walk when he feels the leash that keeps the puppy by his side slipping from his hand and the dog sprinting towards Max. FUCK! If his Monaco curse extends to the rest of Côte D'Azur he might move to the Moon.

The dog runs towards Max, a bit uncoordinated on its big paws, it yaps a bit and it stops right before Max's beach umbrella. The Dutchman look at it with a kind smile and he extendeds his hand forward. The puppy sniffs and starts wagging his tail. Max looks at Sassy, who's carefully evaluating the dog from the side. She looks at Max and meows, going back to her nap. Approval. Max grins and he starts scratching behind the dog's ears, earning an amused bark. He sits back a little on the towel and the puppy steps on it. It lays on his back, rising his paws and Max starts petting his belly, grinning and talking to it in a cute voice, laughing when he sees the dog keeping wagging his tail.

Charles slaps a hand on his face. He could always tell Pierre that he lost the dog, kidnapped by a gang of mobsters, those are things that happen to him... But he won't. He gathers up all his courage and walks to where Max is. The Dutchman is still giving all of his attention to the puppy and he doesn't see Charles. The Monegasque clears his throat. Max looks up at him and gives him one of those stupidly attractive blinding smiles.

"Hi, uhm, Max, never figured you for this much of a cuddler," Charles says, totally making a fool of himself.

Max looks at him, blinking twice, and Charles would like to disappear, dig a hole in the ground and stay there. The greatest of idiots rests there. But the Dutchman laughs and he pats the spot next to him on the beach towel. He's not going to fit on that tiny hamlet of fabric, but that's not something he cares about. He made a fool of himself all of the day, he better take advantage of it.

Charles blushes like a mad man and he sits down, because today is also all about forgetting what self preservation is. Max curiously looks at him and goes back to petting the puppy.

"Hello, Charles... I found this puppy on the beach, well, it ran to me, but now that I think about it, it doesn't have a collar..." Max says.

"Oh, about that... It's Pierre's puppy... I am on babysitting duty, I'm not doing very good, as you can see..." Charles says, earning a chuckle from Max. His ears flush deep red and he has to force himself not to think about where their thighs are touching on the beach towel. Their legs are completely flushed together but Charles must not think about thighs. Especially Max's.

"It's okay, dogs can be a handful..." Max says as he eyes the puppy lovingly. It crawls over their legs and he settles half on Max's and hald on Charles’ legs, deciding it is time for a nap.

Charles rolls his eyes and Max chuckles. The Dutchman looks at him and Charles is not embarrassed anymore of the blush on his cheeks. Being ashamed for being a blushing mess in front of Max Verstappen is something so 2022-like, we've gone over it, now it's openly crushing time. It's not like he has some shame left. If he had he wouldn't be staring at the point where Max's pecs join.

He doesn't realise Max was moving his arms until he fells a hand settling in between his hair that starts scratching his scalp. He closes his eyes and hums quietly. Max chuckles and keeps treating Charles like a puppy.

"Never figured you for this much of a cuddler, Charles," Max says under his breath.

Charles is going to be so fucked...

[pomrania]

Any fungus-interested people here, able to help me identify something I've seen? I can't take a picture, but I'll do my best to describe it.

First, location. I live in the Great Lakes general region of North America. The probably-fungus in question is growing in/on the mulch near a relatively small tree (like I could definitely encircle its trunk using both hands, it might be smaller, I don't remember offhand), and it's not constantly in shade, I don't THINK it's constantly in sunlight but it's amazing the things you turn out to not remember.

When I originally saw it, I thought it was a loaf of bread someone had left outside for whatever reason. Not the presliced loaves that are mostly, what's the word like "cubic" but a rectangle instead of a square, but like, a loaf with a much more "natural" form. Kind of "crust" coloured, a light shade of orange/brown. And then after a month or two I finally realized "wait, a discarded loaf of bread wouldn't have kept its shape for this long".

I've tried poking at it with a stick, but the "stick" in question was a longish piece of mulch. I didn't notice any "give" or deformation on the probably-fungus from that, so it's at least that firm.

Yesterday I noticed that the thing looked different now. It looked like there was drops of marmalade or amber on it, there was distinctly "layers" on the side, and also some smaller C-shaped bits (same "bread crust" colour) growing out of it.

If there's specific more details you'd need, I can go and check on it.

[starrierknight]

JJK CHARACTERS AS CARBS (made w/ @aikugo)

nanami: white bread

choso: a loaf of very dense german brown bread

itadori: milk bread

gojo: everything bagel

megumi: scones

nobara: croissants

getou: over-toasted bread (specifically on just one side)

toji: bread crusts

sukuna: mouldy raisin brioche

shoko: pain au chocolat

maki: sourdough

yuuta: profiteroles

inumaki: melonpan

todo: hot tamales

mei mei: fancy ass shortbread cookie

ui ui: deformed cookie made with leftover dough

hakari: a doughnut with pink icing and rainbow sprinkles

kirara: jammy dodger

higuruma: pasties

yuki: crispy kreme original glazed doughnut (she seems shiny)

utahime: red bean bun

igichi: coffee cake

haibara: blueberry muffins

mai: soda bread

mechamaru: flatbread

panda: animal crackers

noritoshi: pita bread

kenjaku: overly processed burger bun

mahito: raw dough

jogo: leftover burnt crumbs that sit in your toaster tray

[septusuki]

Learning that 76% of people preferred larger ladies had been all but a disaster for Thea. If she hadn't been on a mission in a bakery-factory when she'd found that out, perhaps some of the worst of it could've been avoided - but that hardly mattered. "Grete! Let me go!" Trying to force her way through a far-too-tight doorway, Yumegatari's skimpy dress-jumpsuit tore at the seams as the excessive amounts of blubber within it oozed about. "I-- Can-- Still-- Do this!!" She squealed, her reddened cheeks and teary eyes beginning to spoil her makeup. Her puffy, powdered cheeks gasped and panted as the girl at the head of a quarter-ton of doorway-destroying meat simply tried to walk forwards.

"But..." Grete watched from the bed they'd shared so often; 'seduction practice' really was one hell of an excuse to feel-up the curviest woman for a mile around, but, like the outfits Thea still tried to squeeze herself into, it only stretched so far. "I-I'm not holding you back, Thea..." Grete swallowed a mouthful of mixed emotions; shock, shame, guilt, concern, and most of all, desire. "You're just stuck."

"Huh?" Thea paled, struggling to even look behind herself. Sure enough, Grete was halfway across the room. The only thing keeping Thea from her all-important mission was her own ass. "Th-Then push!" She. whined, trying to exercise any of the authority she had as Tomoshibi's head of command.

"Are you sure you should go on this mission, though?" It took all of Grete's guts not to leap up and help the seductress that instant; Thea still had those hypnotic eyes and mind-breaking voice; along with a bed-breaking butt, of course. "The target is supposed to be a feeder, Thea. You'll just--" Gawking, if only for a splitsecond, at her spy-girlfriend's tremendously rounded-out tummy, Grete began to sweat. "You'll only put on more weight!" Ever since that had happened it the pastry factory, Thea had had terrible luck with her targets: feeders, feeders, feeders. The lot of them. Swelling up as her dress tried oh-so dearly to keep up, Thea had gone from chubby, to chunky, to obese. She'd filled her flesh with fat, and now her only winning trait was that she was a feeder's wet dream.

"Of course I will!" Thea thrust her sweaty, thick hips again, feeling her mass inch through the doorway. On one side, her belly bulged out of the door's frame, a barely-clothed mass of skintight grey fabric jostling like jelly in the shape of a bread loaf; and on the other side, Thea's heavy-duty panties stretched tighter and tighter as an entire breadbin of blubber warped and wept sweat. Deformed by fat and obsessed with food, Thea's sheer size even put Annette's feeding machines to shame. "It's all I'm good for!" At the very least, at least her tits were bigger than Lily's...

[becomingkatie]

I spent the holiday in the kitchen baking all day. I made english muffins to use up sourdough discard, and I made Kenny grill brats so I could have an excuse to try making hot dog buns. Not pictured, I also prepped a high hydration boule to bake either tomorrow or Sunday.

Long-winded baking summary below the cut.

English muffins were up first. The discard, flour, and milk were mixed together the night before. Even though it was discard, sitting for that long woke it back up so there was a nice dough in the morning. Then added salt, honey, and baking soda, rested the dough, then cut into rounds and rested again before cooking. I made some mistakes here - namely, not putting enough cornmeal down to keep the dough from sticking to the counters, so when I went to pick up the rounds to cook them they became deformed and I had a rough time. Also, having the skillet too hot at first. They came out a bit tough. I don't buy english muffins regularly so I couldn't tell you how they compare to store-bought, but I'm medium-happy with them. Before bed I scrambled some eggs with cheese and baked them to cut into squares and pre-make breakfast sandwiches to freeze and reheat later.

After the english muffins were done, I had about two hours until my starter was nearing its peak and it was time to make the two recipes using active starter - hot dog buns and a plain ol' loaf of bread. The bread calls for an autolyse, mixing just the flour and water first and letting it sit a while to start the gluten formation before you add in the starter, so the gluten is already formed when the yeast in the starter begins to consume the sugars and produce the gases that will be contained by the gluten and raise the bread. (I think that's how it works?) So I mixed up my flour and water, set my timer, and then raced to get the hot dog bun dough ready before I had to do more stuff with my regular bread dough.

The buns came out feeling a little dense. Also ugly, but that part's less important. The recipe uses both active starter and commercial yeast, but my yeast was really old and may not have been A+, and I may have baked them a little long. Anyway, just like with the english muffins, medium-happy.

The regular bread was making me so happy all day long. During its bulk fermentation stage every time I came by and stretched and folded it to promote gluten development it was just the best texture and so beautiful. But then I went to pre-shape and shape it and it was... a wet pile of mush that did not want to be a ball at all. I basically slopped it into the banneton and now it's in the fridge for a 2-3 day cold proof. My goal there is to get a nice sour flavor. The longer proof is supposed to help with that. But I'm anxious I under-did the bulk ferment trying to keep it on the shorter side since I'm doing a long cold proof. I don't know. Sourdough is one of those things that can be so easy and simple, or you can get really precious about it and try to make everything perfect, and it's still just a tasty loaf of bread. I really want to be able to bake sourdough with a higher water content to get a thinner crust and increase its shelf life, but it's definitely harder to do this higher hydration loaf than my typical "go-to, just need to get a loaf of bread on the table" loaf.

I have a journal where I take notes during my bread baking. I note the ingredients, process, timing of everything. Kitchen temperature. Impressions throughout (how the dough was feeling in my hands at the different stages, how much rise in both proofs, etc.) and then results at the end, and what variables I might want to tweak for the next bake. I can't have a hobby without also turning it into a lab report, I guess! We'll see how this one turns out over the weekend. In the meantime, it's time for me to go eat one of those breakfast sandwiches.

[salamanderinspace]

I'm the last slice of bread in the loaf

The last little shard of soap

The one deformed donkey animal cracker in a bag of lions

[barricadescon]

“Seeing should lead to caring”

Guided by Love and Conscience: How Les Miserables Inspires by Professor Marva Barnett for Barricades: A Les Mis Convention 2022

Transcription:

We get a sense of his observational skill and his empathy in a journal entry that many people believe, that I believed initially, was an experience that led him to write Les Miserables, but in fact, he had begun Les Miserables already three months before the date of this experience on the streets of Paris. So, I’d like to read you just a little part of that journal entry to give you a sense. He wrote about February 22, 1846: 

“It was a beautiful, very cold day, despite the midday sun. I saw, coming down the Rue de Tournon, a man led by two soldiers. The man was blond, pale, thin, distraught; he was about thirty, wearing rough canvass pants; his naked, scraped feet in wooden clogs had bloody scraps of cloth wrapped around his ankles to make due as socks; his short peasant smock, muddied down the back, showed that he regularly slept outdoors. He was hatless, with bristling hair. Under his arm, he had a loaf of bread. People were saying he had stolen the bread, and that was why they were taking him away.” 

So Hugo watched this blond man and noticed what he, the man, was watching. A large, elegant carriage, emblazoned with a ducal crown. Through its open window, they could both see a dazzlingly beautiful woman in black velvet, sitting on a seat upholstered in lovely, buttercup yellow damask. Laughing, she played with a charming toddler tucked up in ribbons, lace, and  furs. After describing this, Hugo continued: 

“This woman did not see this dreadful man who was looking at her. I stood there locked in thought. For me, this man was no longer a man. He was the specter of wretchedness. He was, in full daylight, in sunlight, the deformed, dismal apparition of a revolution, still plunged in shadows but on its way. Once this man perceives that this woman exists, and the woman does not perceive that the man is there, catastrophe is inevitable.”

So with that simple observation, Hugo shows is that conscience begins with seeing and that seeing should lead to caring, a point that he makes clearly, obviously, throughout Les Miserables. 

This video is from a series of excerpts shared with the permission of presenters from Barricades 2022. If you have an idea for programming for Barricades 2023, please submit it on our website. Submissions for both academic and fan track programming close February 15.

[afatlotofchance]

Commission-story 4: Vali's Vampire (part 1)

This commission was done for the same person that asked the two first stories I shared on this blog, and... it is halway between story 1 (the cute love story of two big guys) and story 2 (a harsh kinky medieval soft-torture story). As we are entering the spooky season of autumn, I invite you to read this vampire story, this vampire romance. With all it implies. A vampire romance must only be a tragic, painful, beautiful by morbid romance. A vampire story will always be something disturbing and creepy - though sad and sexy.

Romania, 1894

The people of the village felt sorry for Vali.

“Poor lad. Doesn’t deserve all that.”

Even though, it was hard to tell if they felt sorry for Vali because of the storms, or because of his wife.

The storms destroyed Vali’s crops. Stefania blamed Vali for it.

The storms made a hole in Vali’s roof. Stefania blamed Vali for it.

A bolt of lightning had burned down the old tree of Vali’s garden. Stefania blamed Vali for it. 

Everyone around here knew Vali. He was born and grew up in the village. All the elders could tell you how he was as a child: smiling, polite, faithful, hard-working. 

In a similar fashion everyone around here also knew Stefania, for she too was born and grew up in the village. The elders also remembered her as a child. Capricious, spiteful, ever-complaining and greedy. Just like today. 

Of course, her parent’s beatings and teachings had managed to calm her down for some time, grooming her into a quiet, pretty and pleasant young girl. But as soon as she was wed, and far away from her parents’ grasp (who died soon after), she returned to her true self, the one of a nasty little thing. 

Nobody knew why Vali chose her out of all the girls of the village. He was himself quite a good-looking man - fair eyes, strong brows, brown hair, without any kind of scar or deformity - despite the roughness and crudeness his farmer life gave to its appearance. Field work had given him strong muscles - bulging arms, wide shoulders, thick trunk - while generous meals and abundant drinks at the inn had rounded his face, curved his belly and widened his thighs. He was certainly one of the village’s strongest men, and could have easily beaten Stefania into submission. Yet, he supported her cries, and screams, and insults, without ever raising his voice or flinching. Some called him a true saint. Others called him a true fool.

And now, if this first plague wasn’t enough, came the storms… Bad storms, frightening storms. “The work of the Devil” some said. Heavy and violent rains, sometimes turning into hail. Howling winds calling forth black clouds turning the day into a pitch-black night. And of course, the lightning, great white spears hitting the ground and burning down trees. The water, the wind and the celestial fire destroyed not only the growing crops of poor Vali, but also everything he kept in his granary. The couple was left with barely anything to eat. While Vali tightened his belt and started working twice as much, Stefania could only weep about their misery and berate her husband for his inability to protect their food or gain money faster. The people of the village were generous with them, yes, and offered them a loaf of bread, a ham or some potatoes from time to time - but this charity wouldn’t last forever. And Stefania never liked these people much anyway.  

Stefania, despite being born to mere cobblers, living in a humble village and being the wife of a farmer, had always dreamed of another, higher, much different life. The life of an aristocrat, the life of a princess, the life of a lady, filled with wealths and luxuries. She had seen, several times, noblewomen in their horse-drawn carriages pass by the road near the village, and each time she envied their pretty dresses, their shining jewels, their loyal servants and their beautiful husbands. In this God forsaken village, dressed in ugly rags, eating raw or boiled vegetables, walking and working in the mud, she felt humiliated, smothered, slowly dying. She knew that there was better out there, she knew that she deserved better than that, and she knew she was better than all of this. 

And she was ready to do anything to make her dreams come true.

“We will sell the farm.” she declared one night.

It had been a foggy day, followed by a rainy night. Far away, you could hear the faint rumblings of a heart storm thunder, the kind that merely echoes in the darkness, without any lightning to split the dark skies.

“This is the only way for us to obtain money fast.” she went on.

“We don’t need to do that now.” Vali objected. “We don’t need huge sums of money for now. Just little ones. If we are strong, hard-working and wait until next summer, we can…”

“What if there is another storm? Or a freezing spring, or if the crops burn in summer? No! It is all too risky, too dangerous! We lost too much! I can’t possibly let you gamble on some fickle land and capricious weather!”

“Farming is not gambling, and these lands are not fickle. These lands are my family’s and farming is hard work.”

“I am telling you, Vali, that we need to sell the farm! We can’t wait anymore! I’m starving! With the money we’ll get, we’ll be able to move out of this dreadful village, into a bigger, safer city. There we could… we could become servants for a wealthy family! Gardeners, nurses, gate-keepers, floor-scrubbers, the jobs aren’t lacking! It will provide us with a roof, with food, and with money for a time until…”

“I don’t want to move out of this village, Stefania. I love this village. It is my home and family. I am telling you, I won’t sell this farm.”

“You are acting stupid! Stubborn and stupid like a child! We need to sell it! Once you’ve gained some decent and honest money, you will…”

“With this farm, I earned decent and honest money, Stefania, just like my parents did. Remember? This was my father’s farm, and my grandfather’s farm, and this is now my farm. I won’t sell it. It is my duty to keep it.”

“Duty? You don’t have any duty, you big oaf! To who will you transmit this piece of swampy land? To your son maybe? Ha! Don’t make me laugh! As for your father, he is dead, and your grandfather, he is rotting away! Corpses don’t care what one does with their farm! Their eyes were probably already devoured by the maggots!”

Vali hit the table with his fit. For the first time in her life, Stefania saw harshness, coldness and darkness on her husband’s face, and for the first time, she heard angriness in his voice.

“Stefania, don’t insult my family, and don’t treat the dead lightly. You seem to forget that I am your husband, and thus you are bound to obey me. I let your vile tongue run free to spit all the poison you want on honest and decent people, but remember that it is still my right to close your mouth so that you’ll choke on your own venom. Are we clear?”

Stefania was boiling with rage.

“Don’t you dare say such things to me, Vali! Don’t you dare threaten me! Never, ever have you dared such… such an infamy! You are a prideful, stubborn and wicked man, Vali! Threatening your own wife! You want us to starve and die rather than selling this rotting wooden box! A coffin, this is what this farm is! A coffin with a cursed land, haunted by your rotten ancestors! You want us to die, Vali, but I want to live! So go play with the corpses and ghosts if you like, die this instant if that pleases you, but you won’t…”

They were interrupted by loud, booming noise, so deafening it seemed almost as if the thunder was right outside of their house - but it was just someone hitting violently on the door. 

“Who could it be at such an hour? And why are they knocking so loudly?” Stefania complained. “What rudeness. Well come on, don’t stand there, go!”

Vali, still vibrant with rage, got up and opened the door. 

Outside of it stood a massive black silhouette.

“Excuse me, is this Vali’s home?”

“I am Vali. What do you want of me?”

“Merely to salute you, old friend.”

“Who are you?”

“Don’t you remember me, Vali?”

“Your voice sounds familiar.”

“It is because we have been friends, Vali. Brothers of milk, brothers of tears. May I enter? The rain is cold.”

Vali nodded and gestured for the man to enter. The stranger squeezed himself through the small door. Vali was flabbergasted to find someone taller and wider than him. In fact, this mysterious guest was so big, his flesh seemed to sink into the frame of the door, and he had to push himself to pass the threshold. Vali feared that he would get stuck, but the man managed somehow to compress his bulk to pass the door, and when inside immediately expanded back into a huge, gargantuan fat man. 

Vali only knew of one person, one friend, who was taller than him. But it couldn’t possibly be him… And yet, when Vali raised his head to look at the stranger’s face, he recognized those small and narrow eyes on top of a rounded nose. 

“Dragomir? Is that you?”

The stranger smiled, his pointy teeth shining in the dark. 

“Yes, Vali. Long time no see.”

XXX

Vali and Dragomir sat near the chimney and talked there for a long time. Now that his old friend was here, Vali had forgotten all about his anger and the unpleasantness of his wife. He was all smiles, laughs and joy, for he hadn’t seen Dragomir since he was a fourteen-year-old lad. Dragomir and him used to be best friends, well more like brothers, raised by the same nurse, partners in games and partners in crime. They cherished each other dearly and cared one for another, through protection, gifts and other lovely things. Their adventures together had however been brutally interrupted when Dragomir’s parents passed away. Now an orphan, he was soon bought by a nobleman from a far away city who wished to make him his personal assistant. It was a very good situation for Dragomir, but the two boys still cried heavily upon saying goodbye. 

And, after thirteen years, they were reunited. A lot of things had changed in thirteen years. Beginning with Dragomir’s body.

Back when he was still a child, Dragomir was a tall and thin boy, almost skeletal. He was nicknamed the “branch”, the “twig”, the “bone”. His skinniness was due to some sickness, that also prevented him from doing any hard work at home or in the field, and made him vomit food that was either too hot or too cold. 

Yet, here he was, as fat as a winter hog! A true mountain of flesh dwarfing Vali, who was reputed for being one of the biggest men of the village. 

“He must eat so much, in his fancy city manor.” Vali thought. “He must have feasts every day and every night. He was really lucky to be chosen by this nobleman.”

Vali couldn’t take his eyes off Dragomir’s body - a body so different from the one he used to know, the one he regularly hugged or hit. It was now a body of wealth, of abundance, of domination. A beautiful body of riches. Dragomir’s face was now as round as the full moon, with a double-chin that spilled over his tight collar and his white bow-tie. His shirt and vest, immaculate, were stretched to the point of almost popping by his belly the size of a haystack, a belly so big Dragomir, in fact, couldn’t have closed his jacket even if he wanted to. And his pants! As black as his jacket, as beautiful as his red-lined cape, and as big as a ship’s sail! It was simple: Dragomir’s pants were so big Vali could easily fit whole into just one of the legs! And up there… Between the tight vest and the small bow-tie… His shirt was so white it blinded Vali, but the cloth couldn’t hide it… Dragomir’s chest. Bigger. Plumper. Fatter. Two firm mounds of flesh, which reminded our farmer of the generous chest of some of the most charming girls of the village, and this thought made him blush. Hopefully for him, Dragomir hadn’t noticed anything - he was too busy speaking. 

A long, complex, flowery monologue, detailed to Vali everything that happened to Dragomir after he left, said all there was to say about his new houses and brought him the latest gossip concerning the members of the government. Many things Vali didn’t really pay attention to, for, to be honest, Dragomir was dreadfully boring. Now that he had learned the language of the cities, he spoke long and twisted sentences filled with delicate, eccentric words Vali ignored the meaning of. He spoke of names and places Vali had no idea about, and he talked so easily of money, expenses and spendings - without any shame, restraint or care - that it shocked deeply Vali. It shocked him and it made him quite sad, for now he was realizing that Dragomir and him were part of two different worlds.

He was a wealthy and cultured man, belonging to cities, politics and banks. Vali was an humble, dirty, nearly illiterate peasant. They made a strange duo, Vali thought bitterly. He was there, a big, stinky, raggedy man with a skin turned red by the sun, and Dragomir was in front of him, an even bigger man, dressed finely with an expensive suit, impeccable, without any stain on his delicate clothes or noble pale skin. The hunched servant in front of the caped master. 

Quickly, Dragomir began asking questions about Vali’s situation. He wanted to know every single detail of the farmer’s life, just like he had shared his own little (and often boring) details. Vali, torn, between a desire to share everything with his truest friend and the shame of his own life compared to this extraordinary existence of Dragomir - who was now nearly a stranger - decided to merely mumble vague answers, even though each time Dragomir pressed him for more details and more information.

“I have never forgotten you, Vali.” he insisted. “Every day, every night, when I lied down or when I woke up, I kept asking myself, what could possibly have happened to him? Where is he right now? Is he happy? Is he sick? Is he…”

Dragomir stopped for a time, before turning his eyes towards Stefania.

“And I see you are married!”

Vali’s wife took this as an invitation to share the discussion. She took a chair, sat next to Dragomir - in fact, very close to Dragomir - and began describing him her wedding to Vali by the detail. Usually, it was a tale of woe where she listed all the accidents and incidents, all of the bad omens she receives, all of the mistakes and failures of her husband. But today, she had to adapt to her audience, so she rather told a glorious tale of a beautiful and perfect Vali swearing his undying love for her in a beautiful pastoral, almost arcadian, setting, under a blue sky filled with singing birds and a shining, golden sun. 

Dragomir listened carefully, nodding to everything Stefania said, even though his piercing eyes never left even once Vali. Stefania went on speaking about her own family, about the death of her parents, about the kindness of Vali and her proudness to be his wife. She finally ended up talking about the dreadful storms.

“Storms? Really?” said Dragomir.

Vali noted something strange in his voice. He was obviously trying to fake surprise, and failed to do so. In fact he sounded… almost amused. 

Stefania painted him an apocalyptic picture, a true Wild Hunt trampling down their farm, a fight between demons and angels cracking the sky open in a swirl of wind, water and fire. She concluded by how now Vali and her were doomed to misery, poverty and hunger. 

“It was the Devil’s doing, good Sir! God couldn’t possibly punish people as good as ourselves! The Devil wanted Vali’s ruin because he was too good, and he succeeded! We don’t have nothing anymore! We are forced to sell the farm! We will go away, become homeless beggars on the road!”

“No.”

Dragomir had said this word softly, and yet it seemed that it spread in strong, piercing echoes throughout the entire room, stunning both Vali and Stefania. 

“No, I won’t let it be. Vali, my friend, I can’t possibly leave you in such misery. I’ll help you. I’ll give you enough money to repair your farm and survive this year.”

“Dragomir…”

Stefania, overjoyed, interrupted her husband:

“Good Sir, we thank you kindly for your kind help! You are our salvation and savior, and we are redeemable to you, in body and soul! Your feelings are the most noble! We will pray for you at the next mass.”

Dragomir laughed.

“Oh good Sir, we can’t possibly thank you enough! You are saving our lives! To last for this year, we would need at least…”

Dragomir whispered a “shush” and, quite surprisingly, Stefania immediately stopped babbling. 

“No need to give me an amount. I’ll give you what I want.”

Dragomir slipped his dark-gloved hand into an inside pocket of his jacket, and took out a purse the size of wolf’s heart. He threw it on the nearby table, and it opened, spilling glittering golden coins.

Stefania had a shriek of surprise, followed by a moan of pleasure, her hands tightly clutched on her heart. Vali opened wide eyes, flabbergasted and pale. 

“Oh, thank you! Thank…”

“No.”

This time, it was Vali who interrupted Stefania.

“No, Dragomir, this is too much. I can’t possibly accept…”

“I insist, my dear friend. I want you to receive this money. If it can also help you for the years to come, then I’ll be more than pleased.”

“No, Dragomir, I can’t possibly… It… It is not right! I don’t like it!”

“What are you saying, you stu…” started to shout Stefania before calming down. “Darling, we need this money. Without it, we will starve.”

“I don’t want to steal from you, Dragomir.” Vali insisted. “And this feels like stealing. In the worst way. Exploiting your kindness and generosity… A freud. That’s it, it feels like a fraud. And I can’t possibly accept so much. We barely found back each other and…”

Vali stopped for a time, looking into the fire. 

“We are not beggars yet.” he finally went on. “We still have hope. If we work hard and honestly, we can survive on our own. I appreciate your gesture, and I know you mean well, but I possibly can’t… It is not right.”

Dragomir had… an expression on his face. The weirdest expression Vali ever saw on a human face. He couldn’t put a name on it. Was he disdainful, or admirative? Surprised or curious? Or maybe all at once, or maybe none, maybe it was something more complex, something only a city man with a big vocabulary could name… 

Dragomir slowly leaned forward, took off one of his gloves, and took Vali’s callused hand into his own. Wide, fat and plump. Pale and smooth. Very strong. But very cold. 

“Vali. Look at me in the eyes.”

Vali did so. And he felt… something. Something he hadn’t felt for such a long time… something wonderful and terrifying at the same time. Fear, trust, adoration and shame rushed in his head and twirled like the storm’s mad winds. 

“Vali, I don’t want to turn you into a beggar. I couldn’t stand the thought of you… I just couldn’t. I don’t want you to become a thief or a crook either. I am deeply sorry if my gift offended you, but please, accept it. I am not acting out of pity or charity here, for I am by no means a charitable man. This is a gift. A present. To my friend. My truest, dearest, oldest friend. Brother of milk and brother of tears. I left you so long ago… and we haven’t seen each other since. And we probably won’t see each other again for a very… very long time. If ever. So please, accept this gift. A friend’s gift. A symbol of my trust, of my faith, of my devotion to you. You are a good man, Vali, and awful things happened to you. I want justice in this world, and if this storm was the Devil’s work, then… think of myself as one of God’s angels. Please. I cherish you so much… I can’t possibly let you in the hands of Famine, misery and Death. They are no ladies of good company. I want to at least try to do something to help you. I can’t just abandon you like that. I just can’t.”

Vali felt tears in his eyes. His heart was beating fast and hard, so much it hurt. He quickly took his hand away from the one of his friend, smiling.

“I’ll accept your gift, Dragomir. Thank you.”

The gentleman, satisfied, raised his enormous body off the chair, which suddenly bolted up like a spring upon being released from the crushing weight of its charge. 

“I must be going now. I am pleased to have seen you again, Vali. I hope we will be able to meet again.”

“Another day. I would like that too.”

“Another night.” mysteriously answered Dragomir. 

Stefania tried to salute him, but he paid no mind to her, didn’t even look into her direction. He rather turned his back to the couple, his black cape twirling and dancing around him, before opening the door. He squished his mass through the frame and disappeared in the darkness of the night and the rain. 

“Wait!” said Stefania.

But it was too late. Dragomir had vanished in the shadows.

XXX

Vali woke up in the middle of the night. There was a noise. A weird one, inside the house. He turned in his bed, trying not to wake up Stefania - only to realize that she wasn’t there anymore. 

Another sound, louder than the first one, followed by some mumblings. Half-asleep, Vali got up and went out of the bedroom.

He found Stefania in the living room, in front of the fire, several bags by her side, putting on her coat. 

“Stefania? What are you doing?”

She looked frightened upon hearing his voice, but quickly smiled.

“Nothing! Go back to sleep, it’s nothing!”

“Stefania, why are you dressed up?”

“I… I heard a noise outside. I am going to look at it.”

“Then let me come with you.”

“No! No need!” she shouted.

“And all those bags, what are they for?”

“It’s… a…”

Vali looked at the chest on which Dragomir’s money had been stored. It was now opened and empty. 

“Stefania! The chest is opened! The money is gone!”

Stefania sighed and brandished a knife.

“You poor stupid fool… Couldn’t you have just go back to sleep?”

“Stefania?”

The ugliest expression Vali ever saw on a human face appeared on Stefania’s traits. 

“I am leaving you, Vali. I took the money, and I am going away, and you won’t stop me or I’ll stab you.”

“Stefania… I don’t understand…” stuttered the man.

“This money! This is too much! Too much to simply mend a roof or buy food!” she screamed. “I could buy a house, a manor with all that! Move in the city! Have pretty dresses, and rare jewels, and servants, and fine diners! This is what I always wanted! This is my dream, this is my life, Vali! God sent it to me and I have to take my chance!”

“This is Dragomir’s money! You can’t do that!”

“For years I have been a slave, trapped by you in this horrific coffin! If I have an opportunity to get out, I’ll take it. You are a stupid man, so stupid you would waste this money! But I am clever! I know exactly what to do with it! And you are just a rock tied to my leg! You drag everything, you stop everything, you ruin everything! You are a dead man Vali, a walking corpse with an empty head and an empty heart! Dumb, blind, stupid! If I stay, you’ll lead me to ruin!”

“Stefania, stop it!” Vali shouted. “Don’t you hear yourself? You’re mad! Mad with the gold… The fever of the gold! You need to…”

“Stop telling me what I need to do or not to do!” Stefania screamed. “You think you can go on giving me orders? Now I have the money! I have the power! I give orders!”

“I am your husband!”

“Oh, really? Is that what you are? Even in bed? Huh? Where are the children, Vali? Why haven’t I fallen pregnant yet? Where is the love? Where is the flesh? The other men would act like the animals that they are, but you… you don’t have any life or heat in you. A corpse without any passion or desire! Not with me, nor with any other woman for that matter! You dare tell me I’m mad? You’re the sick one, everyone knows that!”

“Stefania…”

“Else, why would you have your parents and mine arranging this wedding? They paid well to cover your derangement. But all the money went into my parent’s grave, and now it is time for me to find a new source of income.”

Vali felt all the dark emotions he had bottled up for so long come back boiling into his mind. Stefania reminded him of very dark times, and with this memory came back all of the poisonous whispers of… of the dark things. Of the wrath, of the hate, of the rancor and the grudges, of the despair, of the shame, of the injustice, of the punishment, of the vengeance and of the forbidden thing. 

He had managed to forget all that. For years he had been working so hard so forget all that… And now, she dared to…

Think something else, Vali said to himself. Focus. This money. She wants to steal this money. Dragomir’s money. Your friend’s money. Your friend’s trust. Dragomir’s love. She won’t get away with it.

Groaning, Vali stomped in front of Stefania, trying to catch her arm with his big hand. They were thin as twigs, he thought. I could easily break them. 

But she was fast. Hate and greed excited her so much she was now fast, agile, and deadly.

She escaped Vali’s clutches, and stabbed him - right into his stomach, his wide and bulging stomach, an easy target. She smiled and immediately stabbed him two more times - above the stomach, in the chest - before hitting him on the jaw with her elbow. Vali fell on his back. She was giggling like a child.

“Thanks for finally giving me some sort of pleasure.” she laughed. “Goodbye Vali. May you rot in your coffin-farm and this dreadful village.”

She took her bags, opened the door and fled in the night. Vali, his cramped and bloody torso hurting and burning, managed to get up. He still felt his wife���s elbow in his jaw. A coldness was starting to sip in his body, making him shiver. His flesh was tingly, his wounds were stinging. 

She’s getting away, he thought. 

He walked towards the opened door, but once the threshold passed, he started to stagger. The fresh, humid air of the night hit him like a wall of ice. His legs felt weird and weak. The coldness was in all of his body now, and his head was buzzing. His cranium felt tight, as if his brain was being crushed by an iron belt. 

It was hard to see. The rain had been reduced to a mere fog of water. With that and the clouds before the moon, it was hard to see.

He walked a bit before falling to his knees. He was cold. Too cold. 

Only then he realized what was happening.

“I am dying. I am dying. She killed me.”

He felt terrified. He feared what was going to happen to him. He thought about hell, about damnation, about sin, and he deeply regretted it. He regretted not to have been into confession. He regretted his actions. He regretted his being. He regretted his own essence, his own life. He started to cry - and, suddenly, the pain started. Violent aches making him scream, as if Stefania was stabbing him again. 

He screamed her name, without any answers. He cried her name, and still no answers. He then merely called for help. He called his neighbors, his priest, everyone he knew, every name he could remember. No one answered. His limbs were getting numb, and his throat dry.

“I failed.” he thought. “I failed. I died for some gold. Worthless gold.”

A whisper in his mind answered: “Not worthless gold. Dragomir’s gold. His gift, for you. His friendship, his trust, his love.”

Vali thought to himself: “I still failed. I couldn’t keep that. I couldn’t protect it. She got away with it. I betrayed Dragomir. I failed him.”

He lied down on the ground, for it was too tiring to stand up and so easy to just lay down. He was tired. Weak, tired and cold.

“Dragomir.” he whispered. 

He remembered his surprise upon seeing his friend’s new appearance, and this surprise made him laugh. He tried to remember Dragomir as he was before, and the image of the sick scrawny kid appeared, the picture of the weak not-so-little-fellow he cared for and played with… Vali smiled and wept at the same time, for he was both happy and sad. But more than that, he was so tired.

“Dragomir!” he shouted boldly, and he decided that would be his last word. 

“Usually I wait until my name is uttered three times, but for you I’ll make an exception.”

Dragomir. He was there. Standing over Vali.

“Dragomir! You’re… here.”

“I was always there. What happened to you? All this… blood.”

Dragomir licked his lips. 

“She stabbed me. I am dying.”

Dragomir lost his composure and looked torn. Torn between pleasure and sadness. 

“She? Who? Your wife?”

Vali tried to nod but he shivered so violently he decided not to move. He tried to say yes, but found himself unable to say this simple word. His tongue just wouldn’t let him pronounce this short sound. 

“She went… with the money. Gold fever. Mad.”

“She stole the gold? It doesn’t surprise me. She reeked greed.” he answered with calm before kneeling down. 

Vali studied Dragomir’s face. It was so beautiful. His cheeks were so round and fleshy. He wanted to touch them, to caress them. To kiss them. And his pale skin… He wanted to feel it. Feel it rubbing on his body. These thin lips… he also wanted to kiss them. To lick them. And these pointy teeth… he wanted them to bite his own lips, bite his own tongue, bite his own body. 

Vali’s dizzy and blurry mind was now filled with all sorts of lustful and indecent thoughts, as if dying was breaking down the wall he had carefully built all these years. But he did not care. He felt like a dream. With before his eyes, a spectral beauty. Vali felt so light it was as if he had no body at all. Which was quite funny, for when he fell down, he was so heavy… to heavy to stand up, to heavy to move… He felt so heavy and now he felt so… ethereal. It was a word Dragomir said, a word Vali didn’t know the meaning of, but one he thought fit well in this situation.

“I am sorry, Vali.” Dragomir whispered. “I am sincerely sorry. I haven’t felt sorry for… such a long time. But I do.”

It was still a calm voice, but one with no pride, joy or confidence. It was the sad voice of a lonely man.

“I can’t even cry… I am sorry for causing all that. For I caused all that. I just wanted to play a bit and see you again and… Maybe I was foolish for thinking I could just go back. I am now a harbinger of doom and misery. I am the mad men’s king, I am plague personified. Vali… Just because I wanted to see you again, I tore apart your life, I turned the woman you loved against you. I only know how to destroy and…”

Vali laughed.

“She never loved me and I never loved her!” he said.

His breathing sounded almost like a whistle.

“I… To hell with that. T’is where I’m going anyway. I can’t love her. Can’t love… women. I’m sick. Drago… I’m sick. I… I loved you. Cause I’m sick.”

Vali felt a new pain in his chest. Not a physical one. He bit his tongue as tears rolled down his chest. 

“I loved you. Ever. Since kids. I… I still. Drago…”

Vali found out he couldn’t say no more. He didn’t have the strength. His eyelids were so heavy… the ground so comfortable… and the cold was going away… 

Dragomir smiled, and laughed too. 

“As usual… I shouldn’t be surprised. I should know by now that everything turns out good for me. I knew I was a lucky boy, but that lucky? Blessed be the blood gods!”

Dragomir laughed, much louder this time. A laugh that echoed through the land. 

“Oh… such a waste of blood. Oh, I’m going to enjoy this so much! It will be fun!”

Dragomir giggled. He had the same manic, childish glee as Stefania had earlier. 

“If you love me, since I love you too, shouldn’t we kiss?”

Dragomir leaned on top of Vali’s body. Vali felt it, and it was dreadfully heavy.

“It will sting a bit, my Vali…” Dragomir whispered in his ear. “But don’t worry. You’ll live… you won’t feel pain… and you’ll be mine. Forever.”

[koffing-time]

The Gang

[A photo, taken around sunset in Tix garden, while the light is still good. It shows all of Tix' and Olivias Pokémon, as well as their trainers posing for the photo.

They are:

Tix, a slender, ca. 6'3" tall, androgynous person with two-coloured hair, black curls in the front, and white waves in the back. They are wearing a lot of facial piercings and their eyes have two different colours, the left is purple, the right is an icy blue. They make a peace-sign with their hand and hold a black egg with red markings in the other arm.

Olivia, a similarly androgynous person, a lot shorter. They are around 5'2" tall and have a blonde, short and simple hairstyle. They wear neither piercings nor earrings, but have glasses with a round black frame sitting on their nose.

Both trainers wear a light purple apron with a picture of a Koffing with a Moustache and the words "Koffing-Time" on it.

Tix Pokémon:

Coffee the Koffing (m) is floating right next to Tix head. He has a fabulously large moustache and is grinning widely. Around him are no traces of smoke or gas whatsoever.

Bienenstich the Scolipede (f), a very large Pokémon, around 11ft tall and filling the background almost entirely. She wears her signature green apron with a flower design.

Basil the Toxtricity (f). A low-key form who has no particularly distinct visual features. She is making a devils horns sign with her hand.

Poppy the Toxicroak (m). He is standing next to Basil, holding her in his arm. He has 2 metal rings pierced through his horn.

Cream the Haunter (f). The ghost type is floating right above Tix head, showing just how tiny she is. She is giving Tix bunny ears.

Muffin the Roselia (m). He has an average height for a Roselia, but is still small compared to most other pokémon in the picture. His left rose is very small, barely more than a flower bud and has a dark black colour. His right rose is a bright yellow. He also has a faint yellow-ish scar below his left eye.

Cheese the Crobat (f) is a pink shiny variant, flying next to Bienenstichs head, making her wings a pink/greenish mess.

Cracke the Murkrow (f) is sitting on top of Bienenstichs head. She is relatively small for a murkrow but otherwise not special.

Rhubarb the Ekans (m) has straightened himself completely to look like a stick. He is leaning on Tix' leg. His colour is slightly more pink than a typical Ekans (similar to rhubarb)

Chocco the Salandit (m) is sitting right next to Muffin. They do not seem nervous at all, though Chocco puffs is little chest to appear a little bit bigger than he actually is.

Pumpkin the Bellsprout (f) is standing right next to Rhubarb and is holding on to him. She seems a little bit nervous. Her head appears a little bit too big for her slim stem.

Carrot Cake the Clodsire (m) is laying on the ground and seems to be asleep. He is as average as it gets for this kind of pokémon.

Loaf the Trubbish (m) is also quite average, though his trash bag is black instead of the typical green. He is smiling and waving at the camera.

Bun the ultra-domesticated Trubbish (f) is right next to Loaf and has a neutral facial expression. She doesn't have a regular trash bag but a paper bag instead. The visible part of her body looks more like compost than actual waste.

Roll the ultra-domesticated Trubbish (m) is on the other side of Loaf, with a similar body to Bun. He is smaller than her though and is looking a little bid sad.

Appleslice the ultra-domesticated Mareanie (f) is sitting on top of Carrot Cake who seems to be ignoring this. She has no visible spikes, her tentacles are completely smooth.

Caramel the Beedrill (m) is flying next to Coffee. His right drill is chipped at the front.

Tofu the Kalosian Sliggoo (m) is next to Carrot Cake. He is slightly larger than the average Sliggoo and the lump on his back is a little bit deformed. He is also waving at the camera.

Olivias Pokémon:

Marbles the Alolan Exeggutor (m) is standing behind Bienenstich and bending his neck so his head is in frame, even though its upside down. He doesn't have any different distinguishing features.

Hans the Lotad (m) is just next to Tofu and getting pet by him. He has a tiny little flower bud on his back.

Grill the Unovan Darmanitan (m) is grinning widely like it is typcal for his species. He is standing at Olivias feet and gives a thumbs up towards the camera.

The Kalosian the Escavalier (f) is very large and floating behind Olivia. Her armor has a slightly blue tint and her right lance is twisted like a drill.

Beach Ball the Gible (m) is standing next to Marbles in the Background, towering over his trainer. He is enormous and nearly 7 feet tall.]

[apsocial]

The Great 3D Printing Disaster of 2024

It all started with a YouTube video.

"How to 3D Print Your Own Custom Action Figures!" the title blared. And, just like that, Tom's inner geek was triggered. Sure, he'd never even touched a 3D printer, but how hard could it be? The guy in the video made it look easy. You click a few buttons, feed some plastic into a magic box, and out pops a tiny version of Iron Man—or in Tom’s case, a custom superhero named "Plasticator."

Tom rushed to order a 3D printer, filled with the kind of naive excitement one might have after watching a cooking show and deciding to make a soufflé from scratch. By the time the printer arrived, he was practically vibrating with excitement. It looked like a tiny robot—one that promised endless possibilities... if only he could figure out how to use it.

The first hurdle was assembling the thing. The manual might as well have been written in Elvish for all the sense it made. But, after three hours, two YouTube tutorials, and a desperate call to his friend Steve (who actually knew how to use power tools), the printer was ready.

Step two: software. The same guy from the video made designing your own 3D models look like finger-painting. Tom, however, stared at the design software in horror. He tried to create a simple cube, but the shape morphed into what looked suspiciously like a loaf of bread with legs. This, he thought, could still work—maybe Plasticator could have some cool bread-themed powers.

After fumbling with the design for hours, Tom hit "Print" and watched in awe as the printer whirred to life. Thin strands of plastic began layering on top of each other like some high-tech spider weaving its web. It was working! His very first 3D print!

But then things took a turn.

As Tom watched, the printer seemed to gain a life of its own. The base of Plasticator came out fine—two solid, square boots. But as the printer reached the torso, the figure started... melting? The chest sagged like Plasticator had skipped arm day at the gym. By the time the printer reached the head, Tom's superhero looked less like a fierce warrior and more like a blobfish cosplaying as a candle.

Panic set in. He tried to pause the print, but it was too late. The printer was in charge now, like a rogue Terminator, determined to finish its work. Tom could only watch in horror as a second Plasticator appeared next to the first. Then a third. Each one more deformed than the last.

By the time Steve arrived (summoned by a frantic text), Tom’s room was a war zone of misfit action figures. There was the original Plasticator, sagging in the middle like he’d had a few too many tacos. Then a second version that somehow had three arms. And finally, the pièce de résistance: Plasticator #3, who had a head the size of a watermelon on a body that could barely support a toothpick.

“What… what happened?” Steve asked, surveying the chaos.

“I don’t know,” Tom said, running his hands through his hair in despair. “I just wanted a superhero!”

Steve chuckled, picking up the watermelon-headed Plasticator. “Well, congrats. You’ve created the world’s first mutant superhero army. Maybe they can be the villains in your next print.”

Tom sighed. “I don’t know what went wrong.”

Steve gave him a pat on the back. “Hey, on the bright side, you did technically 3D print something.”

Tom looked around at his army of misfit heroes, sighed, and laughed. “I guess that’s true. Maybe I’ll call them ‘The Deflatables.’”

And so, while Tom’s dream of creating the ultimate superhero had melted away (literally), he learned an important lesson: 3D printing is not for the faint of heart. But at least he now had a unique collection of action figures—perfect for a niche market of people who enjoy blobs, extra limbs, and heads that defy all laws of physics.

With a grin, Tom turned to Steve. "Want to help me 3D print their arch-nemesis? I’m thinking… ‘Overmelter.’”

And just like that, the Great 3D Printing Disaster of 2024 became the birth of a truly ridiculous, but deeply loved, action figure franchise.

[cherryblossomshadow]

Jon Stewart and the Gender "Binary"

I just realized that I don't have this video on my blog. His gender spectrum, as described by conservatives, lives in my head rent free (as do the historical definition of "a woman")

Transcript:

1:01 Jon Stewart: The point is clear. The human race is defined by a simple binary, a black and white understanding. There are men. And there are women. And never the twain shall meet. Steve Forbes (I think): Trump is an alpha male.

JS: Well, okay. Yes. There are obviously men who are MORE man than other men, but that's an aberration. Lou Dobbs: Beta. Gamma …

JS: Okay. There's an entire Greek alphabet, a continuum of masculinity. But that doesn't mean … Gavin McInnes: Cuck. Laura Ingraham: Pajama boy. ???: Soy boy. Arnold Schwarzenegger: Girly man.

JS: I hope the children are out of the room. Clearly, masculinity appears to be on a dimmer, not an on-off switch.

But ladies are different. LI: I was a big tomboy. ???: These purple-haired, angry freaks… Candace Owens: Rabid feminists. ???: Cat lady. Jeanine Pirro: High-rolling bimbos. ???: Pretty girly girl.

JS: My God. What a cruise line buffet of the gradients in American gender expression. Turns out there's a lot of non-binary shit happening between the binaries. But that hasn't stopped the traditionalists from deploying their newest weapon in the Culture War arsenal. The obvious “gotcha” question.

Matt Walsh: Real basic question. What is a woman? Senator Marsha Blackburn: Can you provide a definition for the word 'woman'? Senator Ted Cruz: For all of recorded history, people have known what a woman is!

JS: Yes! All of recorded history! It was simple! Until like a year ago! The answer to "what is a woman?" has always been the same! It's, uh …

"A woman is a deformity that occurred in the ordinary course of nature." I'm sorry. That's- That's Aristotle. I apologize. That's- I'm sorry. That's not what I meant.

I meant, "A woman is a person who has no legal existence once married." That's- I'm sorry. That's- That's early American Coverture Law. That's- That's not right. No. Throughout history, it's not a "gotcha" question!

"A woman is thirty shekels." That's… I’m sorry. I'm sorry. That's Leviticus.

"Unless she's whorish, then a woman is a loaf of bread." That's Proverbs.

[casspurrjoybell-30]

Cry Me a River - Chapter 48 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Death in the Town's Square

"I asked them to make those pastries you seem to like," he mentioned as we entered the dining room.

I nodded in response, taking a seat on the left side of the table beside Isaiah who was casually munching on an apple.

"Good morning," he smiled pleasantly as Derek raised a hand on across from him.

"Good morning," I responded with a returning smile to both.

The table was silent as I fiddled in my seat.

Derek continued eating his loaf of bread as Isaiah watched me through the corner of his eye.

'Is it always this tense before a hanging?'

"Have you ever been to a hanging before, River?" Isaiah asked just as he finished his apple.

I shook my head.

"He wasn't of age during the last hanging," Alastair spoke up.

"He was around... fourteen at the time."

"Oh, that's right," Isaiah let out a gasp.

"I keep forgetting how much younger than us you are."

My cheeks heated as I bowed my head.

'I am not that much younger.'

"Only seventeen, huh," Derek commented across the table.

"You really did rob the cradle."

Alastair's eyes narrowed.

"He is of age."

"Barely," Derek scoffed.

"By only a year."

"So that makes you two about six years apart doesn't it?"

A third voice questioned as Hyde made himself present, taking a seat beside Derek.

Derek jumped slightly, sending a scowl in Hyde's direction and scooting slightly opposite Hyde as if to make as much space between the two as he could. Isaiah raised a brow but said nothing as he reached for a second apple from the bowl between the two.

"Yes," Alastair seemed sick of the conversation as he reached for an apple as well.

"You like 'em young, huh?" Hyde's mouth pulled to a tilted smirk.

"You always have."

My eyes widened as my breath got caught in my throat.

"Enough," Alastair's voice rose as the apple in his hand crunched harshly beneath his tightened grip and its juices leaked across the table.

The table grew silent as a maid hurried to clean up the mess as Alastair dropped the deformed apple to the table with a harsh thump.

It was then that Michael and Keith walked into the dining room, both wearing matching black cloaks to Alastair's.

Michael raised a brow as he took a seat beside Hyde and Keith by Alastair.

"What? Did the funeral start already? Did I miss the hanging?" Michael commented as he eyed Alastair to which Alastair sent him a pointed look.

"What? Too soon?"

Alastair scoffed just as a maid set a tray of pastries in front of him.

"So River," Michael turned away from Alastair and smiled in my direction.

"This is going to be your first hanging, isn't it?"

I nodded.

"Don't worry, we've all been there. If it becomes too much for you to see you can always turn your head away, but just don't make it too obvious or you might get lectured by His Highness."

I nodded just as Alastair pressed a pastry to my lips and I opened my mouth.

Just as I felt the second pastry brush against my lip, a man dressed in black rushed in.

"Your Majesty, it is time."

Alastair nodded, lifting himself from his chair and extending a hand to me to which I took.

Everyone stood from the table and ventured out the entryway to the courtyard to where a carriage waited.

We all piled into the carriage as the air thickened.

I could feel the tension piling in the air and it was making me sick, nausea swirling in my stomach just as the carriage stopped and we were all directed into the town square to where a stage sat with a tall, wooden beam resting on top with a thick rope dangling off it, swinging in a way that caused my legs to tremble.

Someone was to be swinging off that rope shortly.

Someone was soon to be on that stage, for all to see as he took his last breath in front of strangers and family alike.

Alastair must have noticed my shaking legs, seconds from giving way because within seconds I felt myself being lifted from the ground and into the arms of my mate, cradled against his silken cloak.

I peered up at his face, though it was barely visible beneath the dark hood in which shaded him from the beating sun.

The audience grew silent, watching us through widened eyes as the royal family made their way to their designated seats, followed by their council, consisting of Hyde, Isaiah, Derek and a few of His Highness' trusted advisors.

It was like a sea of black as our entourage walked down the plain of civilians, all dressed in browns and grays.

We took a seat in the front row, just in front of the noblemen with their wives and children of age.

The children scattered away from us, hiding against their mother's chests as the men bowed their heads.

It felt forced, artificial and I wanted nothing more than to hide beneath Alastair's cloak and imagine myself elsewhere.

'Anywhere but here.'

Alastair and his father took a seat in the center as everyone branched out around us in a protective, black shell.

I sat in Alastair's lap, head resting against his chest as I attempted to drown out the scenery around us.

All eyes seemed to be on me, brows raised at my presence in Alastair's lap.

We hadn't completed our mating ceremony so the civilians weren't aware that Alastair had taken a mate, only the noblemen who had been at our opening party.

I felt myself begin to shake as the familiar brown-eyed man was led onto the stage by men in black masks, each holding his arms behind him in a tightened grip as chains held his feet close together.

My heart raced anxiously in my chest as a small blond sat by the foot of the stage, hands cupped around her mouth as tears ran down her face.

Men and women sat by her side, arms encasing her as she trembled against their embrace.

"They make the family sit in the front row and watch," Alastair whispered into my ear as I watched the poor girl.

"Why?" I crawled closer to see his face.

"It is part of the punishment."

His eyes seemed distant, unattached as his eyes turned from mine to the man on the stage.

I guess that was truly the only way to watch such a horrid display, by detaching yourself.

I laid my head on his shoulder as I watched the men in dark masks drop the rope down to the man's neck.

My body began to shake, heart quickening in acknowledgment of what was to come.

Alastair must have misinterpreted my shaking as he wrapped his cloak around my shaking form and pulled me closer, kissing me softly on the head.

Though amidst the hysteria in my head, I barely felt his lips, barely processed his gentle touch against my arm in hopes of calming me.

I couldn't help but feel for the man on the stage, to put myself in his shoes.

'That could be me.'

And just like that my breath caught in my throat, tears clouding my vision as the noose tightened around the man's neck as he was raised into the air, legs dangling, mouth widening as he let out a silent scream but all that sounded was the high-pitched shriek of his mate across the stage, fighting against the hold of those around her as she kicked and screamed, eyes turning a bright yellow as her wolf fought to save its only half.

Though none seemed to care, nor realize as all eyes remained on the stage, watching as the man watched his mate through tear-stained eyes, legs kicking just as anxiously as hers in an attempt to free himself.

And just as he opened his mouth to utter a single word, his body grew limp and all that could be heard was the blood-curling scream of his mate as she crumbled to the ground.

[drdanielbarrett]

Are You Getting Breast Implants? Be Aware Of Symmastia Condition And Its Repairment

If you have undergone breast augmentation surgery or are considering getting implants, you should know about symmastia, a type of implant deformity. Thankfully, there is symmastia repair to remedy that cosmetic surgery complication. A disease known as symmastia, sometimes called "uni-boob" or "bread loafing," occurs when the breast implants move toward the center of the chest, giving the appearance as if they are attached or unusually close together. It can have a negative impact on both natural breast tissue and breast implants with an unnatural look. Read on to learn what causes symmastia and the importance of symmastia repair.

What to know about the common causes of symmastia?

One of the major risk factors of symmastia deformity is due to incorrect implant placement during the surgery. The implant and chest size ratio of the patient should be appropriate. If any surgical pockets form during implant placements, they can move to the center, causing symmastia. Moreover, you may require symmastia repair if the breast tissue over-stretches or on the implant pocket. What is the importance of symmastia repair?

When you suspect a symmastia condition in your breast implant and get diagnosed with it, you should seek Symmastia repair. This surgical procedure treats the tissue and gives the breasts their natural look. It entails enhancing support structures, relocating implants, and making a new pocket for them.

Conclusion:

Since symmastia is a highly specialized procedure, it is crucial to work with a broad-certified surgeon to prevent any complications. The repairing surgery will correct the challenging condition and let you make an informed decision. Get in touch with Barrett Plastic Surgery to minimize any risk with your breast implant surgery and prevent related conditions.

[slymewitch]

Oh Im learning how to bake bread! I made one this morning *hands you a slightly deformed but still decent looking loaf of bread*

Let me know what you think, I want feedback.

I'm social with crows