#mother burlap

[terriblyjadedgamer]

Stranger 👁️

Moona-Moona 🌕

Sidewalkin’ Crab 🦀

Mother Burlap 🎃

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

[omgthatdress]

Few American writers and entertainers have managed to have careers as wild and scandalous as that of Mae West.

A vaudeville performer since childhood, she developed a distinctive sexy stage persona and signature sauntering walk that was inspired by the likes of Julian Eltinge and Bert Savoy.

In 1927, she opened her first play, Sex, which she both wrote and starred in. It centered around Margy, a high-end sex worker, and Clara, the stuck up society lady who was the mother of the man Margie falls in love with. Ticket sales were strong, but city officials were upset about the play's risqué content. West was eventually arrested, tried, and sentenced to ten days in jail for obscenity.

While incarcerated, she told reporters that she'd worn her silk panties in jail, instead of the "burlap" that was usually given to prisoners. The scandal of it all sent ticket sales through the roof.

Her next play was set to be even more controversial: it was called The Drag, and it had an entire cast of homosexuals. The end scene was a massive and spectacular drag ball. The show went for ten performances before it was shut down by police.

Police threatened to shut down all of Broadway if The Drag continued to be performed, so it was cancelled. However, a censored version with a now heterosexual protagonist called The Pleasure Man was allowed to perform a year later.

Eventually, West would make her way to Hollywood and become one of the most iconic stars of the 1930s.

In 2019, The Drag was performed for the first time in many decades at Gay City in Seattle, and has since then been performed several times across the U.S.

[jar0fhoney]

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 (NSFW In This Chapter!) - PART 4 -

PART 5 (NSFW)

~

Odd things started happening.

You unlocked the door to your shop, and you could hear a pin drop. And that’s just it. It was quiet. Something so small, so simple. But you noticed it immediately. The hinges of the door had been oiled. You opened and closed the door so many times… you probably looked quite mad to onlookers. You gasped when inside the shop you noticed another repair. The window. The one you had boarded up, fixed good as new. Instead of relief, a wave of worry was beginning to wash over you. Was this a joke? Was Milo doing this just to let winter take it all away? Or giving you a taste of what you could have if you surrendered to his advances.

The thought began to cross your mind recently. The days were beginning to grow longer, and the sun grew more stifling. Spring was melting into summer. You and your mother were beginning to find proof of pests and varmints making a feast out of the fields. When you had your sisters and your mother was stronger, winter wasn’t such a frightening thought.

tap tap tap. You looked around the shop. A mouse? Tap tap tap.

You looked to the window, and there he was.

”We keep meeting each other like this.” His voice muffled through the glass. “You’re a lot more bold without your friends around.” You retorted. His smile faltered, “I’m a coward.”

You laughed. This orc hunter? Cowardly?

”Here.” He held something up into the window. A lumpy burlap rucksack. “It’s Turmeric. But… for growing. In the dirt.”

You walked over and opened the window. “Why?” You were cautious, you didn’t trust “gifts” from men anymore. He tossed the bag on your counter, “Those golden eggs you gave me, the boys said they were just like home… thank you.” His gaze was so piercing, you felt your face grow hot. “How much for these?” You tore your eyes away from him towards the burlap bag.

“Nothing. Just keep making them, and I’ll tell everyone to come here and keep buying them!” He seemed absolutely giddy. “This orc must really love pickled eggs.” you thought to yourself.

“I see Milo around here pretty often.”

”You’ve been watching?” His face got very red at your reply. “Well regardless,” He didn’t deny your accusation, “He seems real sweet on you.”

”He can go fuck himself.” You hissed. Khargaad’s eyes widened. “I refuse to give him what he wants and I think it’s nearly driven him mad.” He looked at you expectantly, like he was hanging onto your every word. You paused before you went on with your rant, “How do you know him?” You realized you should know if the two were chummy before cursing Milo’s name.

“When you hunt big game, you end up meeting the people with enough money to pay you to hunt said game. But we are not friends, if that’s what you’re getting at.” You sighed in relief. “Hey,” you said changing the subject, “come in here and pick something out. On the house. I really appreciate these.” You patted the burlap sack. He grinned and shimmied his way through the doorway. You hadn’t had the chance to fully appreciate his size. He had to crouch to fit beneath the low ceiling, but you guessed he must be 7 feet tall standing fully upright. And his arms, oh his arms. Big and thick like two tree branches. You were staring. You didn’t realize it before you caught his eye and yanked yourself back behind the counter, counting your coins.

He quietly pondered over all of the jars of pickled vegetables. “What’s in this?” You heard him ask. You didn’t bother looking up from your coins, “It’s written on the label.”

”Are you kidding?” His voice lacked any light-hearted tone. You glanced up from your counting. He looked at you, then at the label, then back at you again. “Don’t you remember? What those two said when you mentioned the recipe?”

“That you were illiterate?”

”No, they said I couldn’t read, y/n.” Was he yanking your chain right now? That’s what you just- “OH… oh. I thought… they were kidding.” The words eked past your lips. The poor orc had a pained look of embarrassment on his face. Before he could even conjure up of an answer, the words tumbled out your mouth like a turned over bushel of apples.

“I’ll teach you!”

He peered over at you, his cheeks were very flushed. “No one has ever tried to teach me before.” You smiled very sweetly at him, “And I have never grown turmeric in my garden before. But here you are. And here I am.” It only took him one and a half strides to meet you at the counter across the room. “What can I give you in return?” It almost sounded like he was pleading.

You chuckled, “It’s a gift, Khargaad.” He was so close now that you could smell the smokey leather scent coming off of him. You probably should have been embarrassed to take such a noticeably large inhale of it. But it was too lovely for you to care. You couldn’t have known his own sensitive scent receptors were going haywire this close to you.

“I should go now. Thank you. I’ll be back.” He said shortly. He left so quickly he forgot his jar of pickled vegetables.

~

He had to leave. Had to. You smelled so sweet. He felt awful. Thinking like that. About you.

He found himself in the forest, back pressed up against a tree. So much blood had rushed to the orc’s cock it was becoming painful. He winced, palming himself over the strained trousers. He frantically pulled at the strings of his waistband, the fabric pooling down around his thighs. “Ah!” Gods, the noises that were coming out of his mouth were sinful.

He ran a hand down the trail of hair leading to his cock. “O- oh. F-fuck.” He wrap one hand around the base, already fucking himself in and out of his fist. He won’t last long. Not with the memory of your scent still fresh in his mind. He would bet his right hand that you taste just as sweet.

It felt so wrong, but Gods when you walked into that town square wearing that dress. He knew you had used the spice he gave you. And on that day, it was wrapped so pretty against your body. Around your waist. Around your breasts. The briskness of the spring morning making your nipples poke through the gauzy fabric.

He didn’t last long, his hot milky cum dribbled over his fingers. He couldn’t do this again. It was an insult to you. It was filthy. You were kind. You were generous.

From this day forward, he was determined to court you. Properly.

~

The sky was purple and orange in twilight. The street was uncharacteristically vacant that evening, but you didn’t think much of it. You didn’t think to watch the front door. And you certainly didn’t hear the person who had quite silently slipped through the entrance.

You screamed. You really screamed, when you felt an arm snake around your waist. But there wasn’t anybody around to hear you. “You’re going to die, y/n.” It was Milo and he was very drunk. The scent on his breath stung your nose. “You and your mother are going to die come winter. You can’t work fast enough to protect the rats from your fields. Not with two women. You’re mother can hardly walk anymore can she?”

His grip was digging into your waist, “And when winter comes, I won’t let anybody in this entire fucking town help you. I swear it, y/n.”

Milo was not an honorable man, but you knew this was one oath he intended on keeping. “Don’t do something stupid, Milo. Let’s be reasonable,” You seethed through your biting teeth, “There’s so many girls in this town, Milo. So many girls who are more rich, more beautiful, better family names-“ He brought his other hand to your neck and squeezed just a little bit.

”Do you know what people say? About a rich man who can’t even get the hand of a simple farm girl?”

“I can’t help your bruised ego-“ He squeezed your air pipes even tighter, making you choke on your words. “The Gods have blessed me, y/n. This morning I woke up, and I-“

”Hey.” A very gruff voice came from behind the two of you. Milo released you immediately, leaving a red ring around your neck. You knew that voice.

”You should go from here Milo.” Khargaad didn’t brandish a weapon. To kill a man he only needed his bare hands, after all. Milo trembled, hells even you trembled too. Milo threw his hands in the air light heartedly, “Lover’s quarrel-“

”Wrong. Leave. Don’t come back here.” Khargaad uncrossed his massive arms, taking a step to the side. Milo, the coward he was, stormed out the open door. Not before spitting on Khargaad’s boots. The orc didn’t stop him, stepping between you and the doorway. His eyes stayed trained on Milo as he stormed down the street.

You massaged your aching neck, the orc had a troubled look on his face, “Are you okay?” You weren’t. Of course you weren’t. You brushed him off, “I thought you were going to kill him.” He crossed his arms again, “I considered it. Trust me, I did. But what would you do after that? The son of the richest man in town. Killed by an orc. In your presence, in your shop after hours.” He was right. But there was a part of you who would’ve risked it all just to see Milo snuffed out.

Khargaad cleared his throat, “What was he talking about? With you and your mother? And the Farm?”

Shit.

————————————————————————

Me: I’m gonna write something beautiful and meaningful :)

Also Me: Orc man experiences post-nut clarity in the forest >:)

As always: Hugs and smooches to everyone who asked for part 3 ❤️

@reads-stuff-quietly @loo-looland @sluttygirl123 @beaniebaneenie @blushycadaver @sunndust @whyiamadegenerate @the-attic-of-porcelain @freakyotaku059-blog @youknowits-derea @thoughts-of-bear-undercovers @allthecraftandthings @gruffle1 @kennedyabraxas123

[tarjapearce]

soccerfamily!au Miguel and wife’s wedding?

It's Soccer Family week ~ ❤️✨

A little long, hope you like ~ c:

After Miguel proposed, there was a miriad of things that came over both. Gabi being seven months old, you looking for a dress, the both looking for a venue and so many details Miguel found annoying.

He was a simple man. If it was up to him, he'd marry you in Peter's house where he met you without that much grandeur. However, seeing you so excited for having a little wedding and the glimpse of you in a gorgeous dress, decreased his peeving. He did everything you wanted, just for the sake of seeing your smile.

This week, you'd finally see a venue that had tickled his interest. Something comfortable enough for a reduced number of people. Neither of you had much friends, which was good economically wise, not that you were struggling, he just found it useless to splurge a lot of money on people he didn't know. The ceremony would be something for friends and family.

At first he wasn't sure of asking you about your family.

"Do you plan on telling them?"

"I will. Just my dad and my eldest aunt."

He held your hand and squeezed gently.

"Are you sure of it?"

"Yes. Dad well... he's alright. And my Tia is the only one I actually like there, so..."

You rested your head on his lap, and caressed his chin.

"And your brother?"

"He's in another country right now. And doubt he reaches to show up in time. Just them."

Miguel nodded and weaved his fingers through the silkiness of your hair.

"Alright then."

"Are you inviting your mom?"

He heaved and shook his head.

"No. Doubt she comes in good spirits anyway."

Humming, you nodded and kissed his hands.

"Alright. I think we won't be even that much people anyways. Feels like an elopement"

He chuckled while you played with his fingers.

"Isn't it? The only difference is that we chose to have witnesses."

You curled in his chest and smiled

----

The venue was as charming as the ad promised. A backyard looking space which grass was greener than envy itself, wild flowers painted the milieu with their rich colors, a little lake on the side to make it look straight out of a fairytale.

Miguel couldn't help but squeeze you as your eyes shone with excitement.

----

You nearly had a crisis when the perfect dress you had picked wasn't available in your size. Even though Miguel tried to comfort you by saying you'd look gorgeous even in a burlap potato sack, you didn't want a traditional princess pompous dress.

You wanted to make his jaw drop. So you went the extra mile to get it done with little retouches. Even Gabi had a little dress custom made for her along a matching headband.

The dress turned out even better and was easier to slip out of it. The venue was looking perfect, the wedding planner had surely made it look just like you wanted. Cozy, intimate, truly ready to celebrate with those that had been through it all with Miguel and you.

Sadly, not everything was butterflies in the meadows. Some family members of yours had known about your wedding, and naturally, they didn't like the fact you had excluded them. Your mother specially.

Even if the confrontation was unavoidable, you stood your ground and not invited her, and your other relatives. Severing the troublesome bond for good.

She only saw Gabi briefly, and left.

Miguel gave you a little reassuring that night ~

And finally the day came.

You took breakfast together, and then went to your respective activities during the day.

"See you later, Mr. O'Hara." You squeezed and slapped his butt before sending him off.

"Just for you to know, I'm getting my revenge later, cariño"

"Looking forward to it, nalgón" (bubble butt)

He greeted Gabi, played a bit with her and left.

Jessica and MJ arrived a couple of hours later and soon the preparations begun. Your dress and Gabi's finally arrived.

You bathed her and got her ready for the day.

"Whose taking her for the wedding night?"

"Oh no, we're taking her with us."

"Thought your aunt Isa would take her."

"Miguel refused. It's not like we-"

"Uh uh. Don't tell me"

Jessica's lips pursed, annoyed as you giggled.

"Anyways, look at this beautiful princesita!"

You put Gabi her little headband and snapped a picture to send it to Miguel.

Mi princesa preciosa. She looks so beautiful. Can't wait to see you.

The text made you smile and gave you enough boost to keep through the motions. The makeup artist and stylist came, MJ was the first, then Jessica and finally you.

While they got ready, you made sure to breastfeed Gabi and put her to sleep so you could get ready without much issue.

You spammed Miguel with silly pictures.

See this cereal?

Hm?

It's missing something.

Milk?

No. Not any milk. Yours 😘.

His cheeks had turned flushed as he was getting ready with Peter.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

You're so in trouble.

----

Two pm came and the small guest list filled in the room. Gabriel was his groomsman. Around twenty people were there including some coworkers from Miguel's, your aunt Isa, surprisingly your brother had arrived on time and attended as well. Around twenty people in total.

All seated in their respective spaces.

Miguel constantly loosened the tie, only for Gabriel to fix it for him.

I'm almost there, Gabi was hungry.

He sighed and as he was about to fiddle with his neck again, Gabriel slapped his hand away.

"Relájate. Ya va a venir." (Relax, she's in her way)

Gabriel gave him a little bottle of tequila.

"Drink it."

He gulped it down and sighed.

"Better?"

"Yeah."

"Vows ready?"

"Si."

Gabriel chuckled and patted his shoulder.

"You'll do great. Relax."

His cue to enter was there and with a deep sigh he walked to the altar.

Many looked at him with genuine excited faces. If he was honest, a wedding was the last thing in his mind, it was one of those things he thought once in almost never. But now, things were different.

He was different. You didn't fix him, just improved him, guided him through the darkest things to make amends with himself and allow him to overcome so many fears.

Having a family mainly. His own problems had hindered his growth in so many levels, but with your help and patience, everything was a bit easier. Your nurtured him with things he didn't even knew he needed.

And now, he was about to get you all to himself before anyone else. Of course there had been men that tried to take you away from him, but your loyalty to him was unwavering. What other proof he needed when you stood there, like an angel in a lovely dress, ready to take him as your husband.

Your dad walked next to you, waltzing you to the altar as Jessica and MJ followed you. A proud feeling invaded Miguel's chest. He gave your dad a firm handshake, an unspoken Thank you for giving her to me.

Miguel took your hand, giving a kiss to your palm.

"Hola."

"Hola"

The smile in his face was one that disarmed you. His eyes were full of pride and love, just like yours. Someone took a picture.

Your aunt Isa held Gabi. And soon, the ceremony begun. The wedding officiant gave the introduction speech, and soon the vows were brought up. Miguel started.

His hands trembled softly as he pulled out the small sheet he had wrote them in. Some blotches of ink sprawled, discarded words and the like.

Your name rolled of his tongue. So ever sweet, yet teasing.

"Mi corazón. I know I'm not good with words, but know that they're true when I say, you know better than anyone how difficult I can be. My nature and constant attitude often pushed people away." Here he pauses, a subtle softening in his eyes as he looks upon you.

"But you," he continues, "saw past all that. With your warmth and good humor, you stayed by my side. You eased my worries and made me feel understood. Because of you, I've learned that opening my heart does not make me weak - it makes me stronger." A little smile tugs at his lips now.

"I promise to cherish your love and welcome your light each day. You are the place I long to come to every day. My vow to you is this - I will strive to show you each day how much you and your faith in me mean. You are my partner in crime and all things, mi Pitufina. I am yours, now and always."

Your hand squeezed him tighter, noticing a little flush on his ears and cheeks.

"Thanks for giving me the honor of being your husband and the father of our child, mi niña."

You kissed his hand as he looked at Gabi as the crowd clapped.

"Miguel. Mi amor. Papasito"

The attendants chuckled and Miguel cleared his throat as you giggled.

"Ever since I saw you, I thought, damn he's tall. I'd climb him like a tree."

He couldn't help but choke. Gabriel cleared his throat, trying to suppress a laugh, Peter tittered under his breath and your dad stared intensely at Miguel.

Jessica face-palmed and MJ just smiled.

" But jokes aside, It surprised me you really went to open that beer with your teeth. And that alone made me curious about you and again I thought, yeah this man is mine." He rolled his eyes with a tiny smirk.

"We've been through so much that it's impossible to pick one single moment I wasn't fascinated by you."

His eyes softened and you squeezed his hands lovingly

"We've had our downs and up, cause no relationship is perfect nor easy. You've taught me so much about myself it's ridiculous how well you know me." You smiled,

"I know that I'm not the easiest woman to handle or be with some days, but know that you have someone that will be through thick and thin with you, yesterday, today and always."

You took a deep breath, "I can't wait to see what life has in store for us, Mi amor. Te amo. And I can't wait to kiss you."

He chuckled. Once the vows finished, the ceremony kept going. Gabi was the ring girl, and with the aid of Tia Isa, delivered the ring to you both.

Neither Miguel or you hesitated to say I do. Just made the moment even sweeter when you kissed as newlyweds.

"I introduce you, ladies and gentlemen to Mr. and Mrs. O'Hara"

The crowd cheered you both. Miguel took Gabi after you dad took several pictures with her.

She cooed upon seeing Miguel. Then, you both moved to the next location a couple of steps away.

Tables neatly adorned, the lights were set with an intensity enough to not overwhelm Miguel’s eyesight. Your dad took once more Gabi, letting you have the first dance with Miguel.

The soft and mellow beat of "My Love Mine All Mine" echoed through the speakers. Miguel hadn't tell you but he had been practicing a bit more his waltz. Funnily enough, Gabriel had been his dance dummy. Lots of crushed toes and sore feet later was worth your surprised face as he twirled you and swayed you through the song.

You thanked him with a big smooch and a smile. Your wedding rings clinked as you took each other's hands.

"Mr. O'Hara?"

"Yes?"

You got on your tiptoes and kissed him.

"You happy?"

He shrugged, earning a playful gasp from you.

"Been better"

"So mean!"

He took your chin and gave a little kiss

"I'm proud of you, Miguel." He huffed softly and you pulled a little strand from his hair as a revenge.

"I loved your vows."

"You kidding me? I nearly choked."

Giggling you lead him to your seats.

"Now, we gotta hear how people make fun of us."

"I will also too."

"Enough with your vows, cariño."

You giggled

"You looked like plum! All red!"

"Impossible not to when you said you wanna climb me like a tree"

You kissed him with a laugh, "Well yeah. I've climbed through those mountains-"

"Stop" His shoulders shook softly at the silent laugh he gave you.

"See? What would you do without me?"

"Probably overwork myself until death."

"I was being sarcastic, but still doesn't sounds good."

"I'm way too used to having you around."

Your eyes softened and hooked your hand in the joint of his forearm.

"Well, lucky for you, I'm stuck with you. Forever. Or until one of us deci-"

He nipped your ear. A clear Shut Up.

"You talk too much when nervous."

----

The rest of the wedding unfolded as expected. Almost everyone laughed at the friend's speeches about you two.

Gabriel gave a half funny half heartfelt speech about how happy he was for his brother. And Peter he plainly embarrassed Miguel by saying how much of a nervous and babbling mess your now husband was whenever you looked his way or interacted somehow with him.

And once the reception ended, you went to your hotel with Gabi.

You both were far too tired to actually have sex, or celebrate it.

Miguel had to remove Gabi since she fell asleep latching from your breast. He was tempted to wake you up by eating you out, instead he carried you to bed after putting Gabi next to your sleeping form that ended up in his arms.

Miguel O'Hara was now a married man.

[artistic-aristocrat]

Meadowlark headcanons 2 Electric Boogaloo

- Perrine likes to vocal stim with bird calls and whistles, mainly crow caws, dove coos, peacock squawks ect and it's REALLY convincing (may or may not be projecting with this one 🤭)

° so good in fact that when the Lark first started living together Cole thought an actual mourning dove got in the house and was freaking out trying to find it...turns out it was just Perrine making a dove call cuz they heard one outside and were trying to mimic it

- when Perrine was little they thrived on stomping twigs, he just really liked the snapping sound and how satisfying it was to break them, no stick was safe from it's mighty boots

- Clémentine actually doesn't own any dolls, or at least very few, their room is entirely stuffed animals, purely because any humanoid toy like dolls bring up bitter memories of his home what with the puppet/doll trauma from their mother and father

- when asked Clémmie would say they don't have a favorite stuffed animal and that they love them all equally, but that's aTINY lie because their favorite is actually a cream rabbit plush with a burlap bow around the neck named "Dandy" (subconsciously because it reminds them of Cole) that they sleep with every night, he just can't sleep without Dandy!

°they've got many other stuffed animals lining her bed but Dandy is the only one with the special snuggle privileges

- Clémentine has tea parties with their stuffed animals so frequently because they try to make it a rotation so ALL their stuffie friends get a turn, they'd hate for them to feel left out :(

° before they had the rotation tea party system Perrine overheard Clémentine sobbing a monolog to 5 different rabbit toys, sat in a semi-circle around her, about how they "love them ALL equally and profusely apologies for leaving them out and swear never to do it again! " (TOTALLY not another projection about something I did when I was little 🤭)

[beautification-tales]

The Farmer’s Daughter

A Getting Fit Tale

The sun was just beginning to rise, its pale orange light casting a warm glow over the rolling hills of Daisy's family's farm. She yawned, stretching her arms above her head, and peered out the window of her little room in the farmhouse. The air was crisp and clean, filled with the sweet smell of freshly mown grass and the earthy scent of soil turned over for the planting season. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and threw on a t shirt and overalls, her favorite old sneakers already waiting by the door.

Daisy padded downstairs, her feet sinking into the softness of the worn carpet. The smell of coffee filled her nose, and the sound of her father's voice drifted from the kitchen. "Morning, Dad," she called, pushing open the swinging door and stepping into the brightly lit room. Her father, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a weathered face and kind eyes, looked up from where he was pouring coffee into a mug.

"Morning, pumpkin," he replied with a smile. "Ready to tackle the day?" Daisy nodded, taking a mug of coffee from the counter. "You know it," she said, feeling a surge of energy from the warm liquid. "What's on the agenda today?"

“Well me and Billy will fill the barn today. I think maybe you can take it easy today.” Daisy's father said, as he took a sip of his coffee. Daisy shook her head, "No, I'm fine, Dad. I'm more than able to help." She replied, as she headed for the door. "Let me just get my jacket."

The air outside was crisp and cold, a light breeze rustling the leaves on the trees. Daisy zipped up her jacket, pulled her hat down over her ears, and made her way over to where her father and Billy were already hard at work. The two men were standing beside a large wagon, filling burlap sacks with fresh hay from a nearby field. Daisy took her place at the front of the wagon and began to pitch the hay into the sacks, her movements efficient and practiced.

After just a few minutes Daisy was already feeling fatigued. Billy noticed immediately and smiled. "You sure you're alright,Miss Daisy? You don't have to do this if you're feeling tired." He offered, pausing in his work to look at her. Daisy shook her head, not wanting to admit she was struggling. "I'm fine, really," she insisted, her voice a little less steady than usual. "I just need to catch my breath, that's all."Daisy’s Dad stopped his work and noticed Daisy’s labored breathing. “Honey, that’s enough for you today. Why don't you go inside and rest up ok?” He said, concern etched on his face. Daisy hesitated, but the exhaustion was becoming overwhelming. She nodded reluctantly and headed back to the house, her steps slower and more sluggish than before.

Daisy kicked a rock as she went up the stairs to the house. She looked back and watched Billy and her father do the work with ease. Billy’s shirt was drenched with sweat as he removed it and put his baseball cap on his head. Daisy gulped as she watched him work. They hired Billy to help work the land as her father got older. She had hoped to be the one to help but Daisy had been petite all her life. Her father also treating her like she was fragile didn’t help either.

Despite being 20 years old she felt like a child as she went back inside the house. She slumped into a chair as she struggled to catch her breath. Life had been so cruel to her. She was born prematurely as her mother passed away giving birth to her. Her father raised her single-handedly and she was always trying to repay him. She tried to be strong for him. Daisy felt like a burden as she always needed to be taken care of. So many times her weak heart caused long hospital stays and her father would stay by her bed every night. Sometimes she wished she could just be normal. She wished she was still outside helping her dad and flirting with Billy.

Her father came inside and noticed how pale she looked. He went to the kitchen and returned with a cool glass of lemonade. "Here, sweetheart, drink this and get some rest. You'll feel better soon." Daisy took the lemonade gratefully and sipped it, the cool liquid helping to ease her throat. She looked up at her father, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Dad. I tried to be strong, but I just couldn't do it today." He knelt down beside her chair and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Shh... shh... it's okay, pumpkin. You're not a machine. You don't have to be strong all the time. We'll find a way to manage, okay?" She nodded, the tears spilling over and running down her cheeks. "I love you, Dad," she whispered. "I love you too, Daisy. And remember, no matter what, I'll always be here for you."

The conversation was the straw that broke the camel’s back. She couldn’t let her father down again. She ran to her room and opened the gift box she received from her cousin. She read the note again. “Hey Cuz, this steroid changed my life. I had to share it with you. Trust me it works. Love Courtney. P.S. tell Billy I said ‘Hi’” Daisy's hands trembled as she took out the small vial of steroids. Her heart raced, but she knew she had to do it. For her father, and for herself. She hesitated for a moment, but then steeled her resolve.

She pointed the syringe at her thigh and slowly injected the steroids into her skin. It was a cold, hard prick that made her wince. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to breathe. The steroids were supposed to make her stronger, but right now, they felt like poison coursing through her veins. She lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

The next few day Daisy jumped out of bed at the sound of the rooster. Daisy ran downstairs to make coffee for her father and Billy. She felt rejuvenated and her chest didn't hurt as much. She could breathe easier and felt stronger. She wondered if it was just a placebo effect or if the steroids were actually working. As she filled the coffee pot, she glanced out the window and saw Billy working on the field. He was shirtless, sweat glistening on his muscular frame. Daisy couldn't help but stare, her heart racing. She quickly turned away, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks.

“Good morning baby girl. You're up early today." Her father smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You want some eggs or something?" He asked, motioning to the stove where a frying pan sizzled. “Dad, don’t worry I got it.” She moved gracefully around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. The energy she felt was almost intoxicating. She wondered if the steroids were really making her feel this good. She felt her heart pumping faster and faster but it didn’t ache as it usually did.

“Daisy can you tell Billy to take care of the chores solo today. I pushed myself too hard yesterday.” He rubbed his neck wincing in pain. Daisy gave her father a worried look that he understood so well. “Aw don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing to worry about. I’m… just not as young as I used to be. Plus Billy can handle it.” He looked out the window and smiled. “Boy is strong like an ox.”

Daisy went outside as her father went upstairs to rest. She knew that Billy could handle it but so much more could be done if she helped. She approached Billy as he was carrying a bale of hay and smiled shyly. "Hey Billy, I'm sorry to bother you but I just wanted to say that I'm here to help if you need it." He looked up at her, his blue eyes meeting hers. "Oh, it's okay Miss Daisy. I've got it under control." He said with a small smile, trying to reassure her.

“Well I’m helping anyway.” Daisy said as she began to assist with chores. The sun beat down on them, making the air thick with humidity. Sweat trickled down their backs as they worked side by side. They didn't speak much, but there was an understanding between them. They were both trying to help her father, in their own ways. And somehow, with Daisy's newfound energy, it felt like they were making progress.

Billy had a look of surprise as Daisy was usually exhausted and inside by now. He was hoping she didn’t push herself too hard and pass out like she had done in the past. Daisy smiled as felt amazing as her heartbeat raced, not from fatigue, but from excitement. Daisy was beginning to breathe heavily as she took a moment to watch Billy at work. He was so strong and muscular, it was hard not to stare.

Daisy felt her heart pound within her chest as she gasped for air. She put her hand on her chest as she felt her heart jumping like it would explode. It was harder for her to catch her breath as she looked at Billy. She could feel the heat spreading across her face as she felt a bit lightheaded. “No I can’t pass out again.” She thought to herself as she tried to calm down.

She felt like a passenger in her body as it was out of her control. She gasped for air as if she was having an asthma attack. Billy noticed and rushed over to Daisy. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked, concern etched on his face. Daisy nodded, but she couldn't speak as her chest still heaved for air. Billy helped her sit down on a nearby bale of hay and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Listen, I’ll go get you some water.” He said before dashing off toward the house.

Daisy didn’t know what was wrong with her. She had never felt this way before. As she sat there, trying to catch her breath. She felt her breasts push out as her labored breathing continued. She looked down as she could see they had kept increasing in size as she felt a new weight on her chest. Her t-shirt was stretching as her overalls pressed into her bigger bosom. Daisy grabbed one as electricity flowed from her breasts throughout her body.

“Ohh God!” She moaned as she felt her arms and legs grow. Daisy noticed her labored breathing was starting to sound …. Different. In a matter of moments Daisy was a taller frame with toned muscle filling out her appendages. Thick thighs dug into her Jean shorts as her fatter ass filled them out more. It all happened so quickly that Daisy didn’t know what to think. Especially when Billy came back with three bottles of water.

She looked down and gasped. She had grown several inches, her breasts were easily twice the size they were, her ass was fuller, and her thighs were massive. She couldn't believe it. Billy placed the bottles of water down on the ground, looking up at her in shock. "D-Daisy?" he stammered. She tried to speak, but no words came out. She felt a strange weight in her chest, almost like a new organ had grown there.

Daisy felt thirsty as she grabbed one bottle as it rolled to her. She twisted the cap off as she guzzled the bottle as water trickled down her chin and wetting her chest. Daisy repeated this again with another bottle as Billy looked on with his jaw to the floor.

“What happened to you? A..are you ok? Miss Daisy?” Billy stammered, struggling to find the words. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Daisy's chest had grown immensely, her once small breasts now filling out her overalls and straining against the fabric. She looked up at him with wide, concerned eyes, her face flushed from exertion and excitement.

“Billy, I feel really good” Daisy managed to say between gulps of water. Her voice was deeper and more feminine than before. Billy couldn't help but stare at her chest as she spoke, taking in the sight of her full breasts spilling out of her overalls. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? Because you look, well, different."

Daisy set the last bottle of water down and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. Her muscles rippled beneath her skin, and she felt stronger than ever before. She looked down at her body, taking in the curves that had emerged overnight. Her hips swayed as she walked toward Billy, her thighs rubbing together with each step.

“I think my heart might be in trouble. I need you to help me.” Daisy said, her voice still deeper and more feminine. Billy swallowed hard, his eyes still locked on her chest. He nodded, trying to focus on what she was saying. "Okay, what do you need me to do.” Billy said with a concerned tone.

Daisy got close to Billy and grabbed his hand and placed it on her chest. “Do I feel ok?” she asked him with a coy smile. Billy's heart raced as his hand touched her soft, warm skin. He could feel her heart beating strongly beneath her breast. It was a strange sensation, but it felt nice. “Umm yes” he stammered, looking into her deep blue eyes.

She guided his hand onto her breasts as her nipple hardened and brushed up against him. "Then you feel my heartbeat, don't you? It's so strong." She leaned closer, her breasts pressing against his chest. "I feel so alive, so… powerful.” She looked up into his eyes, her expression a mixture of wonder and desire.

Daisy grabbed onto Billy’s chest and bit her lip. “Billy, take me to the barn and fuck me.” She whispered. Her voice was husky and commanding, and it sent shivers down his spine. He could feel the heat emanating from her body, and his pants grew tighter as he became aroused. He nodded dumbly, unable to form any words as he followed her back to the barn.

Inside the dimly lit barn, they found an old haystack in a corner. Daisy kicked aside some of the hay, revealing a soft, warm surface beneath. She pushed Billy onto his back and straddled his hips, her chest heaving with anticipation. She reached down and undid his pants, freeing his erection. She undid the straps of her overalls and let her panties fall down.

With one smooth motion, she guided his cock into her pussy. It felt so good to finally feel him inside her, filling her up. She began to move her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm, grinding against him as their skin slapped together. Billy wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling the heat emanating from her body as she rode him.

Daisy leaned forward, her breasts swaying in front of Billy's face. She reached down and pinched her nipples, sending waves of pleasure through her body. "Oh god, Billy..." she moaned, her voice husky and demanding. "I need you to touch me."

Billy wrapped his hands around her hips, feeling the smooth, firm skin beneath his fingers. He pressed his thumbs into her hipbones, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Their rhythm became faster and more urgent, as if they were both trying to reach some sort of climax. He grasped her melons as she felt another jolt of electricity pass through her body. She arched her back, her breasts spilling out of her t- shirt, and let out a moan that seemed to echo through the barn.

As they moved together, Billy could feel the muscles in her thighs and ass tighten, and he knew that she was close. He thrust harder, driving himself deeper inside her, wanting to feel the heat and the power of her orgasm. Daisy cried out, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as her body tensed and she came, her pussy clenching tightly around him.

He continued to thrust, lost in the sensation of her body moving against his, feeling her orgasm wash over him. His hips bucked wildly, and he groaned in satisfaction as he felt his own release building inside him. She reached down, took his cock in her hand, and began to stroke him in time with their movements, urging him over the edge. She knelt in front of him as Billy twitched in her hands.

“I want you to cum on these big beautiful tits Billy.” Daisy whispered into his ear, her breath hot and heavy. His thrusts became more erratic as he felt his climax approaching. She arched her back further, offering her perfect breasts to him as he reached down and grasped one, squeezing it tightly. His hips bucked wildly as he released his seed onto her breast, coating her nipple and the surrounding skin with his warm cum.

Daisy took her finger and tasted his seed. It was salty and sweet on her tongue. She looked up at Billy, their eyes locked together.

“Billy? Stacey? Are you both in here?”

Their hearts stopped as they realized her father was looking for them. Billy got dressed in a flash and met him and lead him outside.

“Trust me Mr. Culver, don’t worry about Daisy today. She is definitely working hard. Yes really! Of course she milked me… I mean the cow… the cow”

Daisy laughed as she hears Billy distract her father as she got dressed and tiptoed to the cow.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

In The Cold, Cold Night: Chapter One

pairing: cowboy/frontier!joel miller x oc (Dorothea) / unrequited tommy miller

rating: M (talks of death, bordellos, gender constructs, other wild west things, tommy is a cocky flirt)

wc: 7.2k

series masterlist | playlist

It was a hot and dry spring in Texas, the corn fields out in front of the Mackey family farmhouse dying underneath the brutal and unforgiving sun. John Mackey, the patriarch of his small, humble family, tried his best to conceal his worry over the season’s meager harvest, but his wife, Jessa, and his eldest child, Dorothea, or Dottie as her family called her, had a unique ability to see right through his hardened exterior to the vulnerable, frightened man inside.

Although she was a grown woman, her twenty-fourth birthday passing just seven months prior, Dorothea chose not to venture out from her parent’s watch like all the other girls in their small town had done years before. She liked the predictability of home—the sound of her father’s work boots hitting the hardwood after a long day in the field, the smell of her mother’s cooking, the loud chatter of her five younger brothers as they ran around the house and farm like they were wild animals. Though a part of her did crave more, it was a small enough part that she could ignore, fixing her brown eyes instead on taking care of the things she already had.

“Daddy!” James, the youngest of the clan at only six years, came hurtling into the kitchen as his father sat at the dinner table sipping on a fresh cup of black coffee, Jessa Mackey and Dorothea standing at the sink scrubbing this morning’s dishes. “Look what the lady at the store gave me and Ed.”

“Let me see what’cha got,” the gruff man said, lowering his cup and newspaper to the tabletop as he fixed his attention on his son.

James wore a wide, boyish grin as he reached into the front pocket of his dirty, denim overalls and pulled out a burlap sack, his tiny fingers pulling the drawing string loose so that he could dump out the contents on top of his father’s morning news.

“Well, what’s all this, now?” John said, catching a few of the tiny glass spheres as they began to roll off the uneven table.

“Marbles,” he said, full of wonder and excitement. “She even taught me how to play with ‘em.”

“Can you teach me?” he asked, setting the handful of marbles into the little boy’s hand.

“I forgot,” he smiled bashfully. “But Eddie—“

“I didn’t ask Eddie, now did I?” John smiled back. “Come on, figure it out. You learned once, you can remember.”

“Oh, will you leave him be,” Jessa scolded lightly, chuckling at her husband’s insistence as she walked over, drying her hands on a cloth before throwing it over her shoulder. “Where’s your brother?”

“Outside playin’ with Sarah,” James said, looking up at his mother with round eyes as she carded her fingers through his dust-covered brown hair.

“Who’s Sarah?” Dorothea asked as she dried her hands off on her apron, her brows stitching together.

“She’s new ‘round here,” her youngest brother replied. “She ain’t got any friends—“

“Doesn’t have,” John corrected, lifting his newspaper back up.

“How old is she?” Jessa asked.

“My age,” the boy said, a big toothy smile on his face. “May I go play with ‘em, mama?”

“Yeah, go on,” Jessa smiled and watched as her son ran out of the room with his bag of marbles in hand, the wicker screen door slamming against the wooden frame of the old home as he bolted through it. “I gotta talk to Maggie about givin’ him new toys every time I send ‘em over.”

“She likes it,” Dorothea interjected. “Can’t have babies of her own, it only makes sense she spoils everyone else’s.”

“Don’t matter,” Jessa took a seat at the table to rest her aching feet. “We don’t need another tab.”

John’s eyes lifted to meet his wife as if he were daring her to continue.

“If that girl’s new, maybe I should bake a pie and take it over to her mama and daddy,” Dorothea suggested, sensing the building tension. “We got some blueberries that’ll turn any day now.”

“Sure, honey, go on,” John said, looking back to his paper.

“Don’t use more than y’have to, Dot,” Jessa ordered. “I need flour to make biscuits for supper.”

“I’ll only use what I need, ma,” Dorothea promised with a saintly smile, flashing her emerald green eyes at her mother before heading into the pantry to start out on her baking.

“Daddy!” Sarah’s squeal could be heard from a mile away, causing her father, Joel, to turn his head in the direction of the dirt road, spotting his daughter riding on the handlebars of of a brand new, candy red-painted bicycle, his younger brother pedaling towards the opened gate of their farm. “Look what Uncle Tommy got!”

Joel shook his head at the needless expense as he watched them ride up to where he stood near the porch, his white cotton shirt soaked down his spine from spending the better half of the afternoon fixing the old wooden steps.

“You ain’t got nothin’ better to spend your money on?” Joel asked as they came to a skid in front of him, Sarah hopping off the handlebars and skipping up to her father’s side to hug his hip, his hand smoothing her wild curls out of her face. “Where you been all day, missy? Out causin’ trouble?”

“I made friends with some boys down the road,” she replied, looking up at her father as he quirked an eyebrow.

“Boys, huh?” he asked, his tone playful. “You ain’t old enough to be hangin’ around any boys.”

“But daddy, they’re sweet,” she insisted, rounding her hazel eyes at him and poking out her bottom lip for good measure. Joel smiled and nodded, rubbing his hand across her shoulders.

“I’m just kiddin’, baby girl,” he assured. “What did y’all get up to?”

“We played cowboys on their farm,” she beamed. “I got to be the sheriff.”

“You know me and your daddy used to be cowboys?” Tommy said, leaning against the post of the porch.

“Well, I would’a caught you,” she said, tilting her chin up in confidence.

“Alright, sheriff, why don’t you go inside and wash off all this dirt before supper?” Joel ordered, patting her back as she begrudgingly obeyed her. “Cheer up, I’m makin’ your favorite.”

“Chicken soup?” she squealed again.

“You got it,” he nodded before waving at her to head into the house like he’d asked.

“If you’re gonna yell, yell,” Tommy sighed, taking a seat on the second step.

“I ain’t gonna yell,” Joel sat down with him. “But you can’t be goin’ around town showin’ off and spendin’ like that. We don’t need people pryin’ into our business and gettin’ the wrong idea.”

“It ain’t a crime to be a bounty hunter,” Tommy argued.

“Not when you’re workin’ for the law, but you and I both know we were about as far from the law as we could get,” Joel said. “Just don’t want people treatin’ Sarah bad because of what we did to make ends meet. That’s why we had to leave the last place, remember?”

“Yeah, I know,” Tommy nodded. “I just saw it and thought it would make droppin’ Sarah off at the schoolhouse easier on me, s’all.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna make you take it back,” Joel said, offering a soft smile, bumping his brother’s shoulder with his own. “Just…talk to me before you go out and buy somethin’ that pretty next time, alright? I might want one for myself.”

“Well, speaking’ of pretty,” Tommy nudged his chin forward in the direction of the gate, Joel’s eyes following his eyeline until he saw what he was so fixed on. Tan, freckled skin, a head of chocolate brown waves thrown up messily, a pair of bright green eyes and an equally bright smile heading up the dirt path to the porch.

“She here for you?” Joel whispered to his brother.

“I certainly hope so,” Tommy replied with a smile.

“Hi, y’all, sorry to interrupt,” the unfamiliar face greeted them as she reached the bottom of the steps, both men staring at her with a mixture of confusion and awe. “I’m Dorothea. My little brothers were playin’ with your sister earlier, and I thought I’d bring a pie over to welcome y’all to the town.”

“Sister?” Tommy asked, fixing a charming smile onto his face. “No sister here, but we’ll be glad to take that pie off your hands.”

“Oh,” she furrowed her brows in confusion. “I’m sorry, I guess I must’a—“

“You talkin’ about Sarah?” Joel spoke up, drawing her eyes to meet his.

“Yeah, I think that’s what her name was.”

“That’s my daughter,” he smiled.

“Oh!” Her eyes widened in shock. “I’m sorry, I thought—you look young, so I just thought—“

“No need to apologize,” he assured, standing up and unintentionally towering over her as he walked down the steps. “I had her young; I’m used to it by now.”

Dorothea smiled softly and nodded, her eyes lowering to the pie in her hands rather than at his dark, round eyes.

“Well, this is for y’all, then,” she said, holding the pie out for him to take.

“Thank you,” he accepted it and lifted the cloth covering the top, bringing the pie close to his nose. “Smells great.”

“It’s a family recipe,” she said. “I can give it to your wife if she’s around?”

“Oh—no,” Joel tensed, his smile faltering. “She, uh, she passed givin’ birth to Sarah.”

“Oh,” Dorothea’s eyes turned soft and sympathetic. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he assured, flickering his eyes over to his brother who remained watching their new friend with eager eyes. “We’re about to have supper, you could join us? Let us repay you for the pie?”

“Oh, I wish I could, but my mama’s makin’ biscuits and gravy tonight and she’d throw a fit if I stayed out past dark,” Dorothea said, offering him an apologetic smile.

“Well, you’re always welcome,” Joel shrugged. “Your brothers, too. I’m sure Sarah would love it if her new friends stopped by.”

“I’ll let ‘em know,” she smiled. “Well, I should be goin’.”

“You need a ride?” Tommy asked, standing up.

“Oh, no,” she giggled. “I like the walk, gives me a little time away from all the noise.”

“Alright,” Tommy smiled. “You said your name was Dorothy?”

“Dorothea,” Joel corrected.

“That’s right,” she chuckled. “And y’all are?”

“I’m Tommy, he’s Joel,” Tommy said.

“Well, Tommy, Joel,” she smiled as she turned her eyes from Tommy to meet Joel’s again. “It was nice meetin’ y’all. Enjoy that pie.”

“I’m sure we will,” Joel smiled. “Get home safe, now.”

“Everybody knows not to mess with me,” she smirked as she began backing her way towards the gate.

“That so?” he smirked.

“Yep,” she giggled. “Bye now!”

“Bye,” Tommy called, waving at her as she turned around and started down the road in the direction she came. “What a looker.”

“She wasn’t lookin’ at you,” Joel teased.

“What, you think she was lookin’ at you?”

“No,” he replied defensively as he started up the steps. to head into the house, Tommy trailing closely behind.

“You got a crush, old man?”

“Twenty-eight ain’t old,” Joel argued, setting the pie down on the dinner table.

“Older than me,” Tommy quipped. “Older than her.”

“Alright, well since you’re so young and spry, why don’t you go out back and fetch us some milk for supper, charmer?” Joel teased, grabbing the cloth from the pie and swatting it at his younger brother.

It was Sunday afternoon, Joel and Tommy finished with the week’s chores and labor, Sarah skipping down the road with them as they made their way to town to look around at the shops and stands.

Joel, as always, kept his pistol tucked into the holster on his belt, his eyes scanning his surroundings for any potential trouble while desperately hoping none found him.

Joel had lived a lot of life in his twenty-eight years. He started out as a ranch hand to his father, Tommy just old enough to form a sentence while his older brother was expected to go out and tend to the horse, sheep, and cows at five in the morning. School wasn’t a priority to his parents, but learning to take care of the ranch was, to them, as essential to living as breathing.

Joel was fifteen when his father passed from typhoid fever, his mother following shortly after getting caught in the middle of a shoot out in town, leaving him to not only take care of the ranch, but his eleven year old brother as well.

Two years later, Joel and Tommy got swept up in the bounty hunting lifestyle after seeing how much the sheriff was offering for an outlaw on a wanted poster. They bid their ranch goodbye, packed up what little they had, and rode off into the desert to start anew, not knowing a single thing about what was to come.

Though their endeavors started out lawful, a then-seventeen year old Tommy quickly grew bored of their meager earnings and convinced Joel to abandon the lawful bounty hunting in favor of working with outlaws, the two of them hunting out sheriffs and their own people instead.

This was how Joel met Sarah’s mother at the young age of twenty-one. She was ten years older than him, working in a bordello Tommy insisted on staying at for the night during one of their hunts. Joel was hesitant at first, but quickly found his footing once he spotted her across the room. She had dark skin, rich, brown eyes, and a figure like he’d never seen before. He was already hooked then, but once their visits grew more frequent, he realized it was more than just a drunken lust he felt for the woman. He loved her. And when she fell pregnant with his child, Joel took her down to the town church and married her before riding off again to go on his next hunt. He only saw her two more times before Sarah came, and then she was gone.

Joel tried to go back to his old life, but found it difficult to do what he needed to do with a baby in tow. The boys settled down in Utah for a while, but Tommy’s antics at the local saloon had them packing up and heading west to California. Tommy had some luck there panning for gold, but just as quickly as the last time, he got into a brawl and the three of them were forced back on the road. It went like this for a while, up until just a few months ago when they were talked out of moving out of their old family ranch by a wealthy man looking to buy it for a handsome sum, the money too appealing for Joel to decline.

That’s how they ended up here in the Middle of Nowhere, Texas.

Joel liked it here. It was quiet, there wasn’t any trouble, and everyone seemed to have an understanding that this place was for families, somewhere safe to keep your children in the midst of all this shooting and debauchery. Joel wanted to stay here, but there was a nagging voice every time he looked over at his reckless younger brother that told him it was only a matter of time before they’d have to pack it all up again and run off. He hoped this time, Tommy would learn his lesson.

“Daddy, can I go look at the flowers?” Sarah chimed as they reached the booming Main Street, her little finger pointing at a flower cart.

“Yeah, but don’t go runnin’ off too far,” he said, keeping a watchful eye on her as she skipped towards the daisies.

“I’m gonna go see about that wheelbarrow,” Tommy said, nudging his head in the direction of an old man’s roadside stand of junk.

“Anything that keeps you outta the saloon,” Joel said, his eyes still locked on his daughter as she chatted the ear off of the older woman selling flowers.

“Robert, you better stay out of there!”

Joel’s attention was turned in the direction of a faintly familiar voice calling down the street. There he spotted Dorothea, surrounded by five boys ranging from Sarah’s age to somewhere around her own. The eldest looking boy, Robert he assumed, waved her off as he continued ahead of them into the saloon and bordello, leaving her fuming as she tried to corral the three youngest to follow her while the second oldest followed in his brother’s footsteps.

“Dottie, look! It’s Sarah!” the youngest squealed, his finger pointing down the road at Sarah who was getting a flower pinned in her curls. “Can I go say hi?”

“Yeah, just stay where I can see ya,” she said, watching as all three boys ran off in Sarah’s direction.

Joel cleared his throat as he felt obligated to go over and say hello, but Dorothea spotted him first and gave him a polite nod from down the road before turning to head into the general store. A strange pang of disappointment hit him in the chest at her lack of interaction, but he quickly reminded himself that he didn’t want the responsibility of a friend. He had enough on his plate with his ranch, his daughter, and his brother.

“Daddy,” Sarah came strolling back over hand in hand with Dorothea’s youngest brother, both of them smiling cheekily. “This is my boyfriend, James.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Joel gave the boy a playful once over and shook his head in feigned disapproval. “How about a boy friend?”

“Daddy,” she pouted and fixed a stern look on her face that looked every bit her mother.

“Alright, James, but I expect you to respect my daughter,” he said, playfully wagging his finger in the little boy’s face and poking his nose, earning a giggle.

“Yes, sir,” James smiled. “I think Sarah’s the love of my life.”

“Love of your life?” Joel asked, resting a hand on his hip. “You ain’t lived much life, son.”

“Six years of it,” he countered.

“Six years a long time to you?” Joel continued with a smile.

“Yeah. It’s my entire life,” the boy quipped, pulling a laugh out of Joel.

“I guess you’re right,” Joel chuckled. “Long as you treat her right, we ain’t gonna have a problem.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Those your brothers?” Joel nudged his chin in the direction of the two slightly older boys, one of them chasing the other with a flower he’d plucked from the lady’s cart.

“Yes, sir,” James nodded. “Ed and Bo.”

“And the other two?”

“Robert and Paul,” James said. “But they’re mean.”

“Yeah? They mean to you?” James nodded. Joel smiled and squatted down to be eye level with him. “Let me ask ya somethin’. One day, you’re gonna be big enough to be mean right back to ‘em,” James nodded. “That somethin’ you’re looking forward to?”

“No,” James shook his head.

“No? Why not?”

“I don’t like bein’ mean,” James said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Good answer,” Joel smiled. “I don’t want my daughter with somebody mean.”

“Boys! Come help me with these groceries!” Dorothea called from the shop, her eyes flickering to Joel as he stood up and turned to look at her. “They ain’t botherin’ y’all, are they?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, tipping the brim of his cowboy hat at her.

“Lord almighty, she’s a fine lookin’ woman,” Tommy appeared next to Joel, earning a stern glare from his older brother.

“She’s off limits,” James said, his own face scrunching up. “My daddy said so.”

“Well, your daddy hasn’t met me yet,” Tommy smiled. “She got a boyfriend?”

“No,” James replied defensively. “And she don’t want one neither.”

“What about a friend?” Tommy persisted.

“I’m her friend,” he said, crossing his little arms over his chest.

“Did you get the wheelbarrow?” Joel asked, desperate to stop his brother’s back and forth.

“Yep,” Tommy nodded.

“Good, now go on and use it. We need fire wood,” Joel said, tipping his chin towards the hardware store. Tommy sighed and did as his brother commanded while Joel urged both Sarah and James off towards the general store to pick up their weekly groceries.

“Daddy, can we get some blueberries to make another pie?” Sarah asked, pointing ahead at a pint of blueberries sitting on the table in the middle of the store along with the rest of this week’s harvest.

“I didn’t make the pie, baby,” he said. “Don’t know what else we’ll need.”

“Y’all talkin’ about my pie?” Dorothea asked, offering a smile to Sarah as she walked over holding a basket of fruit in her hand while her younger brothers carried the rest of the haul.

“You made it?” Sarah asked with delight.

“Yes, ma’am, I did,” Dorothea nodded. “You want the recipe?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah smiled. “I’ll make my daddy teach me.”

“Is your daddy good at bakin’?” Dorothea chuckled, glancing over at Joel who watched her carefully.

“No,” Sarah frowned.

“No, he doesn’t look the part,” she smirked at him, watching as a subtle blush grew on his cheeks. “Well, maybe I could come and teach you since your daddy ain’t so good.”

“Daddy, can she?” Sarah asked, tugging on her fathers arm.

Joel looked down at his wide eyed daughter and felt affection bloom in his chest for her, immediately caving in to her request. “Sure, baby girl.”

“Alright, you want me to show you what you need?” Dorothea spoke to Joel, bringing his eyes back to hers.

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel nodded, gesturing at her to lead the way.

“Gonna need flour, y’all got that at home?” Joel nodded. “Butter?” Another nod. “How ‘bout milk?”

“We got our own cows,” he said.

“Looks like y’all ain’t gonna need much, then,” she smiled. “All’s left is some blueberries, a lemon, some sugar, and…I think that’s it.”

“You think?” Joel teased, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“I know,” she corrected herself with a smirk. “I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon, if that’s alright by y’all.”

“Sounds alright with me,” Joel smiled. “I’ll make sure Tommy ain’t around to bother ya.”

“Oh, you ain’t gotta worry about him. I think he’s kinda sweet…in his own special way,” she shrugged. Joel lifted his eyebrows in surprise at the jealousy that sparked inside him at the thought of Tommy and her together.

As if on cue, Tommy walked in, his eyes scanning the room until he spotted the three of them.

“Well if it ain’t Miss Dorothy,” he grinned.

“Dorothea,” James corrected from the counter as he scooped up the final sack of groceries.

“My apologies,” Tommy smirked. “Guess I’ll have to spend more time around ya. Get the name to stick.”

“Alright,” Joel rolled his eyes and patted Sarah on the shoulder, guiding her towards the counter to pay for their hail. “We’ll see ya tomorrow, then, Dorothea. Bring that James with ya if ya want. Word is him and Sarah are in love. I’d hate to come between that.”

Dorothea giggled and nodded. “That’d be a crime, now, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re comin’ by tomorrow?” Tommy asked, leaning against the counter.

“Yes, sir,” Dorothea nodded. “Showin’ your niece how to make my famous blueberry pie.”

“Got room for one more student?” he asked. “I’ve been meanin’ to learn how t’ bake.”

“Oh, have you now?” she giggled. “I suppose you can join us, long as you pay attention.”

“I’m gonna be payin’ attention, alright,” he smiled. “Have a good day, now, Dorothy.”

“Dorothe—“ She stopped herself from correcting him again once she realized he was now doing it on purpose, her head shaking as she smiled at him. “How ‘bout you just call me “Miss” from now on? Can’t get that wrong, can ya?”

“Ain’t no fun in that,” he smiled. “I’ll get it one ‘a these days.”

“I’m sure you will,” she rolled her eyes before looking to Joel. “See ya, Joel.”

Joel tipped his hat at her and watched her walk off back down the long road headed towards her ranch, her horde of brothers following closely behind.

“You gotta mess with her?” Joel asked Tommy as he pulled out a few notes and handed it to the clerk.

“Least she’s a nice woman,” Tommy reasoned. “Could be goin’ after one of my women at the bordello like you—“

“Watch it,” Joel warned seriously, no trace of amusement in his eyes as they flickered to an oblivious Sarah. “That mouth’s gonna get you in trouble, Tommy. One ‘a these days someone’s gonna come along and do somethin’ about it.”

“They already tried,” Tommy chuckled. “I’ll take my chances.”

Joel only shook his head as he led the three of them out of the store, Tommy’s hands busied by the wheelbarrow hauling lumber while Joel carried their bag of groceries and Sarah worked on the lollipop the cashier handed over to her.

“Dot, come down and help your mama with hangin’ clothes!” Dorothea’s mother, Jessa, called up the staircase of their quaint farmhouse, interrupting her journaling.

“Yes, mama!” she called back, closing her books before making her way downstairs to tug her boots on before entering the mid-morning heat. She joined her mother out in front of the lawn as she sat scrubbing the dirty laundry on her washing board, a few sheets already hung up on the line.

“Thank you, baby,” she said, wiping her brow. “It’s hot out today.”

“It’s been hot out every day,” Dorothea commented. “How’re the crops lookin’?”

“Your daddy don’t bother tellin’ me anymore,” she said. “Half of me wonders if we wouldn’t be better off packin’ up and movin’ west. I hear there’s still plenty gold.”

“Who ya gonna get to mine for it? Daddy’s back can’t take it, and your two eldest don’t seem to care ‘bout nothin’ except goin’ to the saloon.”

“Don’t you wish we had that luxury?” Jessa said with a smirk. “I know I’d like to be able to run off whenever I want and drink the night away.”

“I don’t care much for the drinkin’, but I would like to know what it feels like to do whatever I want whenever I wanna do it,” Dorothea replied. “Instead we gotta ask permission anytime we wanna leave the house. Makes ya sad if you think about it too much.”

“I’ll tell you somethin’,” Jessa locked eyes with her daughter. “You ever feel like sneakin’ off for a night—maybe go see a pretty boy—you can count on me t’keep your secret. Long as ya tell me, I’ll watch out for ya.”

“You gonna lie to daddy for me?” Dorothea giggled.

“Lord knows I’ve done worse things.”

Dorothea quirked an eyebrow at her mother, smirking in interest.

Jessa ignored her daughter’s curiosity. “So this mean there’s a boy?”

“No,” Dorothea shook her head. “Not yet, at least.”

“Come on, now,” Jessa smiled.

“James’ new friend, Sarah, has an uncle,” she shrugged. “He seems interested.”

“But you ain’t?”

“I don’t know, mama,” she blushed. “He’s fine and all, but…he ain’t really what I’m lookin’ for.”

“Why’s that?”

“He talks too much,” Dorothea replied, earning a hearty laugh from her mother.

“You’re just like me, ain’t ya?”

“Sarah’s dad, however—“

“Dad? How old is he?” Jessa furrowed his brows.

“He doesn’t look much older than me,” she replied. “But he’s quieter. Doesn’t talk unless he has to. And he was sweet with James,” she said. “Thought it was cute.”

“But he ain’t interested in you like the brother is?” Jessa asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said, grabbing the last piece of wet clothing from her mother’s hands and wringing it out before hanging it on the line. “Either way, I don’t foresee any sneakin’ out in my future.”

“A little sneakin’ out would do you some good,” Jessa argued. “You’re too well behaved for your own good.”

“Someone’s gotta be,” she smiled and nudged her head in the direction of the house. “Alright, I gotta go change.”

“Where you off to?”

“Helpin’ Sarah make a pie,” she said.

“Mmhm,” Jessa smirked. “Well tell the uncle and the daddy I said hello.”

“Sure, mama,” she smiled back knowingly before skipping off to the house.

“There she is,” Tommy chimed as Dorothea walked up the steps of the porch, a sweet tea in his hand as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Where’s my student?” Dorothea smirked, tilting her head at him.

“Right here,” he said, gesturing at himself. “Ready to learn.”

“I meant my promisin’ student,” she countered, bringing a grin to his face.

“She’s out back with her daddy,” he said, tipping his head back towards the house. “But we could get started without her.”

“I’m sure you’d like that,” she chuckled. “I’m gonna go find her.”

“I’ll be right here,” he drawled, watching her as she walked down the steps and rounded the corner of the house.

Out back, she was met with the sight of Sarah filling the pigs trough full of scraps while her father brushed the mane of a chestnut horse, his white shirt pulling taut across the breadth of his shoulders.

“Hey, y’all,” she announced herself, drawing both pairs of eyes to hers.

“Dorothea!” Sarah chimed, abandoning her work at the pig pen to come skipping over. “Time for pie?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she smiled, her eyes trailing from the little girl in front of her to her much larger father as he walked over, his blue jeans clinging to his legs as if they were painted on.

“Miss Dorothea,” he tipped his hat at her. “You come to take this trouble maker off my hands?”

“You causin’ trouble?” Dorothea asked, looking back to the six year old.

“Daddy’s lyin,” she grinned.

“So I got a troublemaker and a liar on my hands,” Dorothea smiled, looking back to Joel. “Ya gonna stay out here, or ya gonna join us inside?”

“Ain’t gonna be much help, I’m afraid,” he smiled.

“You can be our taste-tester,” she shrugged. “And maybe you can keep that brother of yours on a leash. He seems particularly determined today.”

“I apologize for his forwardness,” Joel spoke sincerely. “He thinks he’s smooth ‘cause every woman he’s ever talked to has been eager. He don’t realize it’s ‘cause he paid ‘em to be.”

Dorothea laughed, her brows lifting in shock at the racy nature of his joke.

“I’m sorry,” he said, realizing himself. “Forget I’m talkin’ to a lady.”

“Am I that homely?” she teased. “Maybe I’ll wear my best dress next time. Get Tommy to remember my name and you to remember you’re talkin’ to a woman.”

“Yeah, daddy,” Sarah scolded. “Where’s your manners?”

“I must’a lost ‘em,” he joked.

“Well, me and Dottie’ll help you find ‘em,” she sassed, grabbing Dorothea’s hand and dragging her along back to the house, Joel smiling to himself as he followed them.

“So, cows, a horse, pigs…looks like you’ve got yourself a ranch,” she said, looking behind her as Sarah continued tugging her along.

“Yep,” he agreed.

“You don’t talk much, do ya?”

“Try not to,” he said.

“Any reason?”

“Find people like me a little better when I keep my mouth shut,” he replied, earning another laugh.

“Someone must’a trained you right,” she joked. “Tommy on the other hand—“

“Y’all talkin’ ‘bout me?” Tommy spoke from the porch as the three of them ascended the steps. “Good things, I hope.”

“Hope is a dangerous thing,” Dorothea quipped, earning a chuckle from Joel, the sound drawing her eyes away from Tommy and over to him.

“I don’t get it,” Tommy said, smiling even though his brows were drawn together.

“Nevermind, let’s just get workin’,” Dorothea said, gesturing for him to lead the way.

“He ain’t too clever,” Joel leaned over Dorothea’s shoulder as they filtered inside, whispering to her, and she would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been so caught off guard by his proximity.

“You know anythin’ ‘bout makin’ a carrot cake? My mama used to make the best, and I haven’t found anythin’ quite as good since,” Tommy called from the kitchen as Dorothea remained frozen in the entryway, her eyes watching Joel as he squeezed past her to join his brother and daughter inside the small kitchen. “You hear me?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Dorothea cleared her head and composed herself as she walked in to join them. “Carrot cake, ya said? I don’t think I’ve ever made one.”

“Well, you had to have a flaw,” Tommy drawled.

“I’ve got a few,” she countered.

“Like what?”

“I’m very particular,” she replied.

“‘Bout what?”

“I like the quiet,” she said, smirking at him. “And I get real bossy.”

“I can shut up,” he said. “And I can follow orders.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Joel groaned, sitting down at their round dinner table.

“Alright, then, if you’re so good at shuttin’ up and followin’ orders, how ‘bout you go sit down and stay quiet while me and Sarah get to work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy grinned, walking over to the table by the window to sit with his brother while Dorothea and Sarah got to work. “She likes me.”

“She hates you,” Joel corrected.

“What d’you know about women, huh? When’s the last time you talked to somethin’ as pretty as that?”

“Just a few minutes ago in the yard,” he said, lifting an eyebrow to signal his victory.

“You think she likes talkin’ to you anymore than me?” Tommy asked with a smug smile. “I can’t imagine how crazy someone’d have to be to find you interestin’. All you do is take care ‘a the ranch and complain.”

“I didn’t say she liked talkin’ t’me,” Joel shrugged. “Just that we talked.”

“Yeah, well, leave the talkin’ to me,” Tommy said. “I’ll have me a wife come winter, you’ll see.”

“She ain’t gonna marry you,” Joel chuckled.

“Why not?”

“You ain’t committed to nothin’ but causin’ trouble,” he said. “No amount ‘a pretty’s gonna change ya that quick.”

“Well,” Dorothea smiled across the table at Joel as he hauled a bite of her and Sarah’s creation into his mouth, Tommy long gone and out at the saloon while Sarah laid in the living room fast asleep from two thick slices of pie. “Any good?”

“Ya know it’s good,” he said, flickering his eyes at her before dropping them back to his plate.

“Is it always like pullin’ teeth with you?” Joel furrowed his brows as he looked at her again. “Givin’ a sincere compliment?”

“It was sincere,” he said.

“Guess I’m expectin’ somethin’ more like Tommy’s reaction.”

“What, fallin’ to my knees?” he joked, cracking a half smirk. “My knees are busted. I’ll have to praise you from my seat.”

“You and him are so different,” she commented, watching him as he ate. “He’s…wild. Too wild. Reminds me of my two brothers.”

“The ones who went into that…establishment?” he asked, wiping his mouth on a scrap of cloth he’d fashioned into a napkin.

“Yeah, them two,” she nodded. “You ever…been to one ‘em?”

Joel froze a bit, his hand pausing as he lifted a glass of milk to his mouth for a sip. “You askin’ me—“

“I just wanna know what they’re like,” she shrugged. “What they do.”

“You’re better off not knowin’.”

“Well, the men always seem to leave happy,” she said.

“They sure do,” he blushed and brought his cup the rest of the way to his lips, taking a swig before setting it down. “But I ain’t completely sure if that’s somethin’ you need’a know about.”

“Why is it that you boys get’a have all this fun and us girls are supposed to stay home and bake pies, sit and wonder what y’all are doin? What if I wanted to go into a bordello?”

“I ain’t sure it’s they’d know what t’do with ya,” he chuckled.

“Is it—are they…makin’ love?” she whispered the last line, causing Joel to choke on his bite, his fist pounding against his chest to clear it.

“I—“ He shook his head, lost for what to say. “I don’t know that I’d call it that.”

“But they are…sleepin’ together?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But they ain’t doin’ no sleepin’.”

“And that’s where Tommy ran off to?”

Joel hesitated for a moment but nodded.

“Well, then I know for certain I don’t want him,” she said, looking at her plate.

“You don’t like…those kinda men?” he asked, recalling his own past.

“I don’t like men who get around,” she clarified. “If a man wants me, I better be the only one. But so far, I haven’t met a man willin’ to hang up his hat.”

“They’ll grow outta it,” he said.

“Did you?” she asked, knocking his boot under the table with hers.

“I had my day,” he said, locking eyes with her. “Sarah’s mom—she, uh—I met her in one of those…places.”

“But you married her.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Never liked two-timin’.”

“Well, there’s still hope to be had, then,” she smiled. “Just hope I’m still young and pretty by the time these boys decide t’grow up.”

“How old are you?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I’ll be twenty-five on Christmas,” she said.

“Christmas, huh?”

“Yeah, makes it easy on my mama and daddy,” she joked. “What about you?”

“Twenty-eight,” he replied. “Twenty-nine in September.”

“Birthday just passed, then,” she said. “I’ll have t’bake you a belated birthday cake.”

“You tryin’ to win me over with food?” he flirted, just to test the waters.

“I didn’t know I was tryin’ to win you over,” she smiled.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“Your brother would,” she countered.

“Yeah,” he shrugged.

Dorothea sat there watching him with a smile, searching his eyes for any sign of a cruel joke being played on her but found none. Even still, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do in this sort of situation. She’d been flirted with for half her life, but was never interested enough to flirt back. Until now.

“I guess I should be goin’ off,” she said, swallowing her feelings for the man in front of her out of sheer fear of falling flat on her face.

“You gonna get home alright?” he asked, standing up when she stood to carry her plate to the sink. “Could take the horse.”

“No, I’m alright,” she assured with a smile, turning around to find Joel right in front of her, his chin tipped downwards as she looked up into his molasses brown eyes. Though she remained breathless, she couldn’t help but let out an airy chuckle as she lifted her hand to press it against the firm wall of his chest. She didn’t push him away, she simply rested it over his heartbeat to feel for a similar rhythm to her own. “You’re awfully close.”

“Would’ya like me to step back?” he asked, his eyes darting across her features, admiring the curve of her button nose.

“No,” she replied, what was supposed to be playful turning into a whisper as she watched tongue peek out and swipe over his bottom lip. She couldn’t help herself but to want to trace the line, too, her hand raising to rest over his bearded jaw while her thumb ghosted across the bow of his lip. “Never kissed anybody before, y’ know that?”

“S’easier than you’d think,” he whispered back, leaning down to slowly fill the gap between their lips, Dorothea’s eyes fluttering shut as she splayed her hand over his cheek while the other lifted to bury her fingers in his curls.

Joel hummed into the kiss as his lips landed against the pillowy softness of her pout, his chest pressing to hers as he pressed her into the counter behind her, his hands gripping the edge of the rustic wood.

Dorothea’s brows laced together as she tried to keep her head above water in this sea of him. He tasted like the pie she spent all afternoon baking and a little bit of whiskey, the warmth of both heating her skin up as she melted into him.

“Daddy,” Sarah called from the other room, her tiny voice thick with sleep. Joel pulled back first, leaving Dorothea to chase his lips with her eyes still shut. He smiled at the sight and leaned forward to kiss her forehead, pulling her out of her haze.

“I gotta go take her t’bed,” he whispered, his voice raspy in her ear as his lips came to rest there. “Wait for me.”

Dorothea couldn’t speak, her olive colored cheeks turning a shade of red as she watched him walk back and out of the room, his voice soft as he spoke to his daughter, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her down the hall

She stood there resting against the counter, her hand resting on her heated cheeks, smiling at the wood beneath her feet.

Was this what it felt like to want somebody? Did it always feel this good? A blood rush to the head?

Joel found his way back into the living room a few minutes later, finding her in that same spot, still spinning over his touch.

“I…hope that was alright,” he said, seemingly catching her by surprise, her eyes jumping away from the floor to meet his. “I hope I didn’t…assume—“

“I think ya did, just a little bit, but that’s alright,” she smiled, walking over to meet him in the middle of the room, her hands sliding over his chest to loop around his neck. “You assumed right.”

“Tommy ain’t gonna like this,” Joel warned, resting his hands on the small of her back.

“He doesn’t got any claim over me,” she replied, her eyes flickering back to his mouth. “Y’know, your lips are softer than they look.”

“That supposed t’be a compliment?” he smiled and she nodded. “Well, thank ya, ma’am.”

“I like when you call me that,” she grinned. “When you use those southern manners.”

“Yeah?” he grinned back, leaning down to brush his lips over hers. “You like when I’m quiet and polite?”

She laughed softly and nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Like that you know when to talk and when to shut up.”

“Then I’ll shut up now,” he said, smiling into the kiss as he squeezed her closer, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip before grazing the tip of her tongue. Dorothea moaned into the kiss, the sound causing Joel to short circuit and pull away, his forehead resting against hers. “You gotta go home.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, still breathless.

“Come see me tomorrow, if you got the time,” he said, pulling back to comb his hand through her brown waves as they hung loosely down her shoulder and back.

“I’ll see if I can sneak off,” she grinned, stepping back from his embrace to walk out the front door to his porch.

“I’ll see ya,” she said, biting her lip as she turned on her heel to walk down the steps of his porch.

“Bye, Dorothea,” he smiled to himself, tucking his hands in his pockets and leaning against the doorframe as he watched her frame get tinier and tinier as she walked down the long, dirt road until she disappeared out of view, taking the sunshine with her.

[jungle-angel]

Summer Shenanigans (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: In which You, Bob’s parents, Bob and the Daggers have to keep Auggie out of trouble at the Fourth of July BBQ

You were both surprised and exasperated at how much of a little devil Auggie had become. He’d always been so quiet as a baby, though being born a preemie was probably the hugest part of that. 

And then he turned two.

Auggie had begun to run wild wherever you and Bob had put him down, zooming around like your dog, Tank, whenever he had an overwhelming urge to run and chase the docked tail he had ever since you adopted him. Auggie on the other hand was constantly running around, getting into things that were constantly making you and Bob nervous and nowhere was that especially apparent than at the barbecue being held in Maverick’s backyard. 

Auggie zoomed through the grass with his Red Sox baseball cap on his head, his feet completely bare of any shoes and giggling like mad as he tried to evade his grandfather. 

“C’mere you little ghoul!” Joe commanded as he ran right after him.

Auggie lifted the lid of the beer cooler with his little hands before letting go and running again, the lid slamming shut as the two year old ran away. “I’m getting too old for this shit.....” Joe muttered. “BOB!!!” 

Bob carefully set down the plate of burgers that were almost ready for the grill when he saw his father charging across the grass after Auggie. Bob set aside the plate and hurried down the deck steps, trying to catch the giggling little miscreant, but to no avail. 

“God, where’s (y/n) when you need her?” Bob mumbled under his breath as he skidded into the grass. 

Only a moment later did you come out the back door with the potato salad to find your husband and father-in-law chasing after Auggie. “Oh shit,” you sighed. “Irene?!” 

“Yeah?” Bob’s mother called from the window. 

“The ghoul’s gotten out of his cage again!” 

Irene popped her head out the window, laughing as she watched the scene unfold. “Alright, I’ll get the rest of them,” she answered. 

You waited until the rest of the squad came out the back door from the kitchen, all of them confused as to how a two year old could be so speedy. 

“You think we can catch him?” Mickey asked. 

“Mickey if we can catch a plane in mid-air, we can catch a two year old with no problem,” Maverick answered. “Think of it as an outside training exercise.” 

As soon as you and the Daggers were ready, you were practically leaping off the deck and into the grass below, each of you running in a different direction to catch Auggie. Maverick hadn’t lied when he said it would be like a training exercise at the base with everyone running in different directions while Auggie did everything in his power to evade being captured by the grown-ups. 

“Coming in hot with the sack!” Jake announced.  

You and Bob chased Auggie from behind while Hangman scooped Auggie right up into a burlap sack, throwing it over his shoulder while his godson wriggled and squirmed inside. 

“Where the hell did you learn that from?” Natasha asked, trying to catch her breath. 

“An old rancher’s trick,” Jake answered. “Caught my first chicken this way.” 

Bob lifted Auggie right out of the sack and into his arms where he kept wriggling. “You’re way more trouble than you’re worth, August Robert,” he chuckled. 

“Wait till he joins the Navy,” Rooster joked. 

You and Bob gave each other “the look”. You knew that if Auggie did join the Navy, he and Natasha’s son, Gabe, would be double trouble.

[dreamofthemaidenless]

modern maternity wear is so spectacularly cuntless. a statement of one's fecundity should be bombastic. unignorable. utterly shameless.yet you allow your mothers and sisters and wives andoccasionally your parole officers to walk around appearing humble. meek. in a shapeless burlap sack. i simply can't allow this to go on. everyonee meet up at my place in an hour to discuss

[hezzabeth]

I know that a Miss Havisham costume in a playhouse should be more regency period… but that’s Whistleton’s theme. Anyway in todays part the gang head on off to Medieval Faire!

"If they had their way, they would have burned anyone with colorful hair, but that would mean losing most of their actors," Revati explained to Brigadeiro who had vaguely followed her into the cafes fridge.

“That would mean killing the entire population of my town” Bridgadeiro remarked.

“It’s not that I hate wearing dresses! Sometimes I love wearing dresses; I just hate being told what I have to wear by some stupid actors based on my reproductive organs,” Revati said to Bridgadeiro, who had vaguely followed her into the fridge.

“You would love the space station! Everyone wears whatever they want, in their assigned colors, of course,” Bridgadeiro remarked.

“I’m sorry, is there a reason why you’ve followed me in here? I need to get changed!” Revati informed him, and he had the decency to blush with embarrassment.

“Dreadfully sorry! I just wanted to let you know I’m done with the plant thing and wanted to ask if I could go home now,” Bridgadeiro asked.

“You can leave any time you like. I’m assuming you’ve figured out a way to stop yourself from freezing to death?” Revati asked as she pulled out a skirt.

“Ah, no, I had a special tent when I was rose collecting, but the chanting naked people stole it!” Bridgadeiro admitted.

Revati examined the skirt. It was one of Amma’s early creations, several burlap potato sacks that had been sewed together.

“Well, I'm not your mother; I’m sure you’ll figure things out eventually,” Revati admitted, and Bridgadeiro chuckled.

“Believe me, I know you’re not my mother; she would have called every single planetary embassy in the solar system!” Bridgadeiro replied as Revati wiggled the skirt off over her pants.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Bridgadeiro asked doubtfully as the skirt sagged around Revati’s legs in awful shades of mustard.

“It will do,” Revati grumbled.

Dityaa and Aurora were waiting for Revati under one of the new trees. Aurora was wearing a long shapeless tunic belted at the waist. Dityaa, however, had put on a dress made entirely out of yellowing white lace and satin. The sleeves were gigantic clouds bursting from her shoulders. The bodice was cut right across the front with tiny pearl buttons. The skirt had been artfully torn in several places revealing layers of fluffy tulle. The hemline had come undone, and it was dragging in the mud. But none of it really seemed to matter. The dress made her glow.

“Is that what you’re wearing? The ragbag skirt!” Dityaa asked, sounding horrified.

“Is that what you’re wearing? That’s the Miss Havisham's wedding dress from the Dickensian theater! They will take one look at you and know you’re from a different part of the park,” Revati pointed out, equally horrified. No one performed in the actual theater, but everyone read the scripts left abandoned inside.

“It’s pretty! I want to look my best,” sniffed Dityaa.

“The character who wore it went crazy on her wedding day and then died in a fire! She also lived in the 1860s,” Revati pointed out.

“It’s fine, I took all the plastic spiders off it,” Dityaa waved casually.

“You probably should wear something better; the actors in medieval faire will assume you’re a peasant. They’ll make you dig latrines,” Aurora said to Revati.

“The dress I wore last night is filthy! I don’t have time to wash anything else,” Revati snapped back irritably as she marched to the cart.

“You could just borrow something from my collection,” Dityaa said.

“You once told me if I ever borrowed from your collection you would shave my head in my sleep,” Revati replied.

“I was thirteen! A child! Anyway, I can’t have you digging toilets; imagine the embarrassment,” Dityaa said, and then her eyes widened briefly.

“He will need to put someone on as well; that jumpsuit will get his throat slit,” Dityaa said, and Revati glanced over her shoulder. Bridgadeiro was standing a couple of feet behind her.

“I thought I could ask the naked chanters for my tent back,” he said.

“Fine, but you’re digging your own grave,” Revati replied, and Bridgadeiro’s brow wrinkled with confusion.

“Grave?”

“You know, the hole a dead body goes in,” Aurora said helpfully.

“That’s horrifying! Back home we don’t do that, back home bodies are turned into diamonds and then launched into space,” Bridgadeiro said, and a faint smile crossed his face.

“The memorial rings floating around the space station really are dazzling.”

“Fine, let’s quickly change our clothes and head out before Amma gets back from her daily walk,” Revati snapped irritably.

Medieval faire loomed over Olde Landon. "Loomed" really was the only word to describe it. The park architects had deliberately placed it in the castle on a giant hill in the park's center. Its gigantic craggy walls cast shadows all the way to Shakespeare Lane. The giant copper dragon could be seen all the way in Whistletown. On windy days, you could smell smoke spiraling from its towers. The smoke was the only proof Revati had that the actors and tourists inside were still alive.

“So, how do we get in?” Revati asked as Bridgadeiro helped her push the cart.

“The back way is in Marzipan Martian’s confections,” Aurora said, and Revati shuddered.

“You don’t like lollies?” Bridgadeiro asked.

“I don’t like ants; Marzipan Martians is infested with them,” Revati replied, shuddering again.

“Oh, come on, ants aren’t that bad! The parks on the space station are full of them,” Bridgadeiro replied as Aurora approached the lolly shop.

“Have you ever seen a Martian ant? They’re the size of your fist!” Revati protested.

Revati remembered the lolly shop before the invasion. In the window, there was a sculpture of the lost princess made entirely out of chocolate. Jars of hard-boiled sweets and rainbow lollipops had been arranged in intricate patterns around her feet. Revati had bolted inside holding Dityaa’s hand. The air smelled of burnt sugar and cinnamon. Massive rainbow bins filled with wrapped lollies sat on groaning tables. Tourists bustled about snatching up boxes of “genuine Turkish delight”.

A lady in a uniform stood in the corner demonstrating how boiled sugar was turned into lemon sweets.

Dityaa was begging mother for a “real” chocolate princess. “And what do you want, Revati?” Her father asked her. Was that when the sirens hit? Was that when the appliances invaded? Or did it all happen when they were in the toy shop next door? The ants had long ago eaten the chocolate princess. They had also managed to knock over and break most of the jars.

“The ants are fine, just leave them alone and don’t try to steal their eggs,” Aurora assured them as she opened the shop door.

The inside of the shop was surprisingly clean and orderly. Broken jars had been swept into orderly piles. The wooden shelves and surfaces were dust-free.

Someone had turned all the abandoned mint-green gift boxes into a pyramid.

“Did you do this?” Revati asked curiously.

“No, the ants did. They’re surprisingly intelligent in a busy, orderly sort of way! I sleep back here,” Aurora said, walking behind the shop's blue and white checkout counter.

“Wait, you sleep in a shop filled with giant ants? I never knew that,” Revati confessed as Bridgadeiro tried to push the cart in while keeping the door open.

“I knew,” Dityaa sang, swinging herself over the counter.

“You never asked, and it had nothing to do with our professional working relationship,” Aurora replied with a small shrug.

Aurora slept on a bed made out of old sugar sacks with a pillow in the shape of a lollipop. There was an old shoebox next to the nest where an ant lay inside.

“That’s Queenie; she’s not dead! Just sleeping,” Aurora explained before knocking on the wall four times. The wall slid aside with a faint whoosh.

A teenage girl was standing on the other side. A girl dressed in a green velvet robe with incredibly long, messy gray hair. Her soft blue eyes fell on Aurora briefly with a small smile before noticing everyone else.

“Hark, my sweet, who be these folk and for what cause do they grace our presence?” She asked in a peculiar accent.

“What does hark and doth mean?” Bridgadeiro whispered.

“This is my boss, Mistress Revati, her sister, and some random boy,” Aurora explained, and the girl sniffed.

“Mistress Revati, this is my girlfriend Isabeau,” Aurora said with a small smile.

Isabeau slowly stepped into the room, her head held high, walking towards Dityaa.

“Pray, art thou the lady Revati? Thou appearest more tender than mine expectations did foretell! Verily, I find favor in thy gown,” she said to Dityaa.

“Thank you! I found it sitting in a pile of ash; I think the appliances vaporized the actress wearing it,” Dityaa giggled.

“I’m Mistress Revati,” Revati corrected Isabeau, who briefly glanced at her.

“Thou doth make sense, though dost bear semblance to a barbarous witch, a crone of eldritch mien," sniffed Isabeau.

“Isabeau! Please try to be nice to my boss,” Aurora flushed with embarrassment.

“Yes, play nice or this eldritch witch will hack that wall down and flood your entire castle with giant ants,” Revati snapped back.

Isabeau merely turned away from Revati before turning to her girlfriend.

“I surmise thy lady doth desire something," she said.

“We need to melt this android in your blacksmith's forge,” Revati explained, and Bridgadeiro, who was holding the cart, waved.

Isabeau walked towards the cart, examining the android. Her gentle blank expression seemed to twitch slightly, like a rock being thrown into a still pool.

“If the Luddites espy this within the castle walls, verily, they shall take thy life," she said, holding up the android's hand, examining it.

“I’m sorry, did she just say someone will kill us?” Bridgadeiro asked nervously.

“They’re not going to see it! It’s not like we’re going to put it on display in the town center,” Revati pointed out.

“Conceal this abomination and follow me hence," Isabeau said, walking back to the gap in the wall.

The gap in the wall was actually the side of a small courtyard. Sitting on a wooden table were six beehives, vibrating gently in the chilly air.

“In hushed steps, proceed, for the bees in their winter slumber rest,” Isabeau whispered, walking past the hives to an arched tunnel.

[ladybirdswritings]

BEAUTY AND THE HYBRID - Klaus Mikaelson Fanfiction

summary: the slip of burlap rope brings an unsuspecting girl into the arms of a vicious, bloodthirsty creature.

warnings: mentions of ab*se, stockholm syndrome, captivity, dea*h, and violence.

next chapter <3 | a03 | edits | tag list

four

“C’mon sugarpea, wake up now. Wake up.”

The light is blinding but I’m tucked away, cozy in darkness with no pain… only the sound of my mother’s warm voice.

“Apple darlin’, Birdie… c’mon now Apple, Birdie’s callin’ for ya.”

I startle awake with a gasp, the remnants of my mother’s words reminding me that the tucked away darkness is far from a loving dream. I’m not home on the scratchy, deflated air mattress. I’m not waking up to the radio purring and Joel snoring. No.

No.

No no no no no no no.

They got me, they fucking got me.

Fear clutches at me like a snake starved, suffocating me, breaking all my bones and rendering them to be useless, shaky things.

Trembling as I sit up, my fingertips are purpled. Funnily, the last thing I remember is my continuous fall on the pavement. That’s only because, all I can think about is Birdie— and how she’s not here beside me.

All that surrounds me is cold, gray brick walls. A pathetic mattress on the floor, a chain round my wrist, the other three for my remaining limbs left untethered. There’s a sink in the corner, and a toilet. Only close enough for me to crawl to. The chain is heavy.

There’s a window, it seems closer to the ceiling above than me. I take in my surroundings with dread swimming in my chest.

I’m hostage.

Chained up by a psychopath that my sister stabbed, my sister. My body chills, he must’ve killed her by now— otherwise she’d be here… that or, or worse.

I hug my knees to my chest and cannot stop the sobs from suffocating me. They’re harsh, because with each cry— my body begins to ache again.

I choke upon my air and upon my tears, my hands clutching desperately at my midsection where there is bandage wrapped tightly around.

I have to get up.

I am certain it looks pathetic, I let out a cry as I make it to my feet. My ankle hisses in pain, nearly bringing me right back down to the cement once more… but one thought of Birdie and I manage.

I limp, slowly, but my palms- bandaged too, fall on each edge of the ceramic sink. I am hunched over, breaths labored and a mere chore to breathe. I manage eventually, lifting my head up to see my reflection in the small, round mirror.

My god…

A bandage is wrapped tight round my head, my eyes are red and bruised, they are dark. I look more pallid than usual, and my lips are parched and split in two. There’s a nasty slice on my alabaster cheek, falling from the arch of my brow… it’s held together with two thin bandages.

My fingertips are curious, grazing the fresh wounds but regretting it soon after. I wince in pain, like lemon and salt rubbed in wound.

The faucet is squeaky and old, but it works. The water is cold and welcome— I use my free hand to cup some in my palm and devour it.

I am so thirsty.

The droplets are licked from my lip with my eager tongue, and I can only stand for a moment longer before feeling dizzy once more. I stumble to the mattress, bumping a small tray and gasping when I hear a clatter of metal as I do.

Hmm.

Tired gaze floats to the sound, it’s a syringe— full but unused. At least, I only hope it’s unused. I’m curious.

I gather it in my fingertips and examine the faded marker scribbled upon it.

HYDRAMORPHINE (ADRENALINE)

Christ.

Did they shoot me with this? No wonder I’m not knocked out still. I prick my fingertip with the needle, falling back on the mattress and twirling it between my fingers.

I can feel the warmth plaguing my eyes before I can stop it, flooding my view of the window at the height of the ceiling. So far away.

What have I done?

Trying to sniffle back the tears does nothing but make them fall harder, gentle sobs now.

All I wanted was to give Birdie and Joel a better life. Warm beds and plentiful meals and medicine and all the things they could ever desire. Like mom did.

Look where trying to be mom got me.

Almost dead, ironically.

I fear Birdie is facing that fate, and it chills me. Thinking about her, if she is alive— I know she’s so scared. It’s all my fault.

I close my eyes tight, imagining what she’d be doing if she were here right now with me.

“Apple, get the fuck up. We’re gettin’ the fuck out of here.”

I let out what can only be described as half of a weak laugh and half of a strong sob at that thought, I know her so well it is as if her voice is programmed permanently within my head.

“Oh god…” I breathe, clawing at the ache in my chest tight and praying for it to dissipate.

My mother’s words echo.

“Birdie’s callin’ for ya…”

Brave Birdie. Scared, alone…

I can’t let that happen.

My eyes fall down to the needle in my hands, an idea blossoms at the sight.

I may be very stupid, but I’d rather take my chances with a mysterious drug than sit here like wounded prey ready to be slaughtered.

I’m gonna take it.

Adrenaline is what I need. I’ll die here, weak and exhausted otherwise.

There’s no instruction, just a painful looking needle. My wrist aches as I bend it forward, it’s most definitely fractured or worse— the same wrist bound by chain.

“Okay apple, okay…” I whisper, allowing my breaths to become meaningful and with thought.

“One… two…”

I don’t allow three to come before slamming the needle down into my skin, puncturing it immediately and blossoming my very being back to life, back to a mode of survival.

Woah.

My heart speeds, faster than it ever has. Pounding rapidly against my chest like a caged animal ready to run free. The world erupts in color, and everything is melted in to tunnel vision.

The throbbing in my head goes quiet.

I need to get out of here.

I need to find Birdie.

The pain dissipates, I feel nothing but urgency and determination coursing through my bones. My breaths are heavy and quick, and I can hear them within my own ears- they are loud.

I’m on my feet, the pain in my ankle and wrist only a buzz of pins and needles now.

Searching, seeking.

The sink.

If I can climb upon the sink, I can throw the chain around the window lock and climb.

I slide the cotton socks from my feet with my free hand and hastily make my way over to the sink, climbing atop the ceramic and executing my plan to perfection. I don’t take the time to celebrate.

Tunnel vision.

The climb makes me cry out, my wrist betraying me thrice but regardless? I make it.

I think of Birdie each time I slip.

Another lock from the inside, I only hope clicking this one won’t cause me regret. I push the window upwards and a spring holds it there— the cool breeze is familiar but it’s not the breeze of Mystic Falls, I am certain. This breeze is more lively, less dull.

It kisses my mangled cheeks hello, pulling me closer. I tremble now as I glance down. The fall isn’t necessarily close but… it’s manageable. It has to be. For Birdie.

“Okay… okay.”

Time slows, a deep breath in and I take a moment to listen to the owl crying in the distance. As if he warns me to go back inside. I can’t.

I have to do this.

I pull up and drop the excess of the chain down to the grass below, I cannot think about this jump. If I do? I’ll coward. So I don’t.

I only allow one deep breath more before I leap.

A gasp becomes me, then? The snap of metal chain by the force of the fall. More dreadfully, a pop.

“Agh! Fuuuuuck!”

My ankle, surely dislocated now.

The adrenaline, coursing.

I have to put it back.

My hands are weak, my cries loud- but once again? I don’t think, just push.

The pain shoots upwards, and I bite down on the skin of my shoulder to muffle my indication of it.

It feels off, but it will have to do.

Tunnel vision. Birdie.

I don’t know where I’m going, only that I’m going far. My leg drags itself behind me as I rush in a pathetic limp.

A parking lot, lit by iridescent streetlights.

I cry out as I near it, the pain beginning to feel louder than the tunnel vision— regardless? I make it there.

My head snaps around in all directions, searching for something, anything.

“Please god.”

A blue car, lonely in the corner, but it’s not the car itself I see. It’s the glistening metal atop it. Glorious in its stagnant state.

Keys.

I rush forward, trying not to allow my thorned ankle to slow me. It doesn’t— because I keep thinking of Birdie. Of my mom’s voice, the diner, all of it.

My hands tremble, the hope flooding my senses as I reach the car and grab my exit from atop it.

I try and fit the key inside but my body, it’s betraying me again. Shaking, viciously. I’m in a cloth nightgown, skin bare and bandaged and adrenaline coursing through me. It’s cold here, ice cold. I can see my own breaths.

I can’t do it. I try to breathe, but my next attempt lands the keys on the pavement.

“Oh, fuck.” I mutter, exasperated, carefully kneeling to gather them. The cool metal meets my fingertips, and I sigh. I’ll just try again.

“Hello love.”

I know that voice.

My body renders itself frozen, and when I turn… there he stands.

The fallen angel.

His hair is messy, as if it has been tousled with. His suit is unbuttoned and wrinkled, polar opposite of my captor, and his collar and stubble is stained red.

His lips and teeth, they’re red too. He must’ve been in a nasty brawl with someone. They clearly got a good jab at him.

He towers over me, a smile or— smirk on his lips and an expression I can’t pinpoint swimming in his eyes. Amusement? It can’t be.

I don’t give myself time to think about it, I simply relax.

He’s here, it’s another stroke of luck. The kind man from the diner who saved me from falling on my ass, he’s somehow here.

“Oh thank god!” I cry, stumbling to my feet— the movement is too quick and brings me forward. The maple and bourbon floods my senses soon as my nose grazes his collar, I grip it tightly between my palms.

I don’t want to let go.

I look up at him, the warmth of his hand splayed against my back to stable me and keep me close to the heat of him is welcome. Like a hug after all of this madness. His golden eyes gaze down at me, that smirk still present.

My tears flood, voice guttural.

“Please, please you have to help me! They’re crazy, they’re monsters. T-they took my sister and they chained me up in this horrible room! Please!” I cry, not even recognizing the sound of my own voice. It’s desperate, pleading.

“Aww, shh shh shh.” He soothes, the honey in his voice erupting goosebumps upon my neck. His free hand moves to stroke my hair back, pressing my head against his chest. It is bare, shirt unbuttoned around it— golden hair peeks from it, he’s soft. He’s safe.

My tears soak his skin, lips trembling against it,

“Please… please you have to help me. I need to find her. I need help….” I whisper, clutching the fabric of his suit tighter in my fingers.

“Yes I know, sweetheart. Tell me now, what did these big bad monsters look like? Hmm?” His hand still strokes my head.

Images of jet black hair and decapitated waitresses flood my memory.

“He- he was tall! And had raven hair so dark it looked like the night… he was cruel and vicious and had horrible, soulless eyes. He— he…”

El… they called him “El! … t-that’s what he goes by I think.”

“El?” He tries.

“Yes, El.” I confirm. I know it, I remember.

“Hmm. My my sweetheart, what a horrible evening you’ve had. El… that wouldn’t be short for Elijah would it?”

…

How—?

Time stops for a moment, my breaths shaky but quiet. I gulp, my heart slowing.

It can’t be.

I am cautious, slow and shaky as I tilt my head downward, pressing my ear against his chest. He keeps stroking my head.

There’s no heartbeat.

The memory of gray veins and sharp fangs ready to sink into me in the van constrict me.

A monster.

I chill again, but not because of the air, rather because of my suspicion. Slowly, daringly I lift my chin up to face him. He’s smirking down at me… he IS amused.

“H-how do you know that?”

He laughs.

Oh god.

Him. It’s him. He took me.

My face drops, I know he sees it.

Oh god…

“No… no- no this can’t be happening.”

Even though I speak to myself, he listens. He responds.

“I’m afraid it is love. You know I’m quite impressed you managed to make that jump. If only you’d been faster with those pesky keys, hmm?”

I release him immediately, stumbling backward till my back meets the car. I am trembling, again.

My fingertips raise to cover my eyes.

“Mm mm, no— no!” I sob.

“Oh at ease my darling, at least you’re alive. Lucky lucky you, don’t know if we can say the same for your sister though.”

I gasp, his mocking words confirming all of my horrified suspicions. My arms wrap round my midsection, clutching tightly at it as I try to breathe again.

“I don’t know just how vicious Elijah can be these days, I do know that your dear sibling did get a nice jab at him. That won’t make him too happy.”

He steps forward, and all of the sudden I feel trapped by the car instead of saved by it. I move my face away from him, he is an unwelcome presence now. His fingers chase me. Stroking the bandage that has lifted from my cheek.

“Look at you, sweet girl. How delicate, how stupid you are.”

His thumb swipes softly at my tears as he shushes me and it is now that all I can smell on him is blood and it is putrid. It’s not his own.

Birdie.

I push him away from me and stand taller.

“No- no where the FUCK is she?”

I regret my outburst immediately once his thumb and index meet my chin, pinching it between them. It’s immediate.

“If you’ve got any brain at all in that beautiful head of yours— you’ll never speak to me like that again. Do you understand me?”

His voice is a loud, commanding and horrifying sound.

He shakes my chin when I don’t answer, and a glance at the bloody man before me swells my vision with tears again.

He works with the devil that took my sister.

I’m reluctant, but I have to answer. If I’m dead, any chance of saving Birdie is no chance at all.

“Yes.” I spit through clenched teeth.

He accepts it, I know this because he releases my chin.

“Good then. If you only behave, things will be much easier. Come on love, back to your room you go.”

No. No no no no no.

“Please, no please don’t make me go back in there.”

It’s empty and caged and lonely. It’s horrible. It’s missing Birdie.

I’m a fool for thinking he will listen, but I’m only human after all. Unlike this vicious creature before me.

The man shakes his head at me, he looks exasperated. As if I have somehow worn his patience thin by just standing before him. Warm palms press against my cheeks.

“Oh sweetheart… as amusing as this all is to me, and as fun as it has been to play with you— I’ve got many of things to attend to. You know, evil and horrible big bad monster duties. No more of this, you’re to return with me to your room with no quarrel or cry.”

I see his pupils expand as he speaks, it startles me. It’s inhuman, unnatural. He’s monstrous. Yet for some reason— I cannot refuse his words or fight him anymore. I’m exhausted.

I am to return to my room with him with no quarrel or cry.

I do just that.

[thetravelerwrites]

Yew (Part 1)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences  Relationship: Male Centaur/Male Centaur  Additional Tags: Exophilia, Centaurs, MLM Content Warnings: Amputee, Amputated Leg, Prosthetics Series: Part 12 of Monster Lovers: Shelter Forest  Words:  4,101

Yew finally gets his own fic! Yew makes his very first rescue: a surly centaur dumped on the side of the road. Please reblog and leave feedback!

Ethari was losing his vision rapidly. He hadn’t eaten in days, the fever was taking over his entire body, and the blood loss had rendered him extremely frail. The ranch hands had dropped him on the side of the road somewhere, but he wasn’t sure where. He kept trying to stand, but in his delirium, he forgot that his left foreleg up to the knee was now missing and unable to take any weight, so he continuously stumbled and fell into the mud of the roadside.

He fell for a final time, completely sapped of strength, and as he was losing consciousness, he heard a voice call out.

“I knew it! I saw someone! Mama, hurry!” 

In his dimming perception, he saw a dark face with green-blue eyes and a fluff of white hair haloed around their head. 

“You’re gonna be alright,” They said softly. “Everything’s going to be alright.” 

And Ethari passed out.

When he awoke again, he was inside a stall lying on rough burlap cushions instead of hay or straw and was covered with several blankets to guard against the winter cold. Panicking, he began kicking the walls with his back legs. He had been conditioned not to scream or yell, so kicking was the only means of rebellion or dissent he was capable of. So he kicked hard over and over, making a lot of noise in the process.

“Oi, oi!” A voice called. Ethari saw the face of a handsome man look into the open upper half of the stall door. He had blue eyes, tanned skin, and dark hair. “Could you keep it down? My wife is resting.” 

“Who are you?” Ethari asked aggressively, his voice raspy and harsh to his own ear. “What’s going on, where am I?” 

“Ugh, I hate dealing with pissy, angry males. Yew! Would you come and deal with this, please? I need to look after Hazel.” 

The handsome face disappeared momentarily, and the full door swung open, revealing that the handsome face was attached to a brown centaur body with black socks and a black tail, which flicked back and forth in agitation. He wore a bright red winter coat on his upper body and a matching riding blanket on his back. 

Seeing one of his own kind, Ethari relaxed slightly without realizing it.

“I thought she was feeling better,” Said another voice, almost chirpy sounding, and a beautiful, slender, black-and-white piebald centaur entered Ethari’s vision. Ethari recognized him as the person he’d seen when he was blacking out on the roadside. The skin of his upper torso was so dark that it was nearly black, contrasting starkly with his pale eyes, curly mop of white hair, and long, feathery lashes. He wore a black winter coat and riding blanket, both with intricate white stitching.

“She still needs rest,” The other centaur said, annoyed. There was a knock that came from somewhere in the building, and Birch’s head swiveled sharply to look in that direction. “Keep this guy quiet, would you? If she takes a bad turn, I’m taking it out on him, I don’t care how hurt he is.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Yew said, waving him away.

The brown centaur dashed off, disappearing from view, and the black and white centaur came into the stall, which was spacious enough to allow him inside with Ethari comfortably. 

“Sorry about him,” He said, and it was then that Ethari realized he was carrying a tray with fruit and vegetables on it on one arm and a simple brown wool coat in the other. “He’s really touchy when it comes to Hazel. You shouldn’t move around so much, you know, since you were a proper mess to clean up. You've lost a lot of blood; it took my mother ages to stop the bleeding. There were bone fragments in the stump that had to be removed, too, and you’ve got a nasty infection. You’re gonna feel like pounded garbage for quite a while, so try not to reopen the wound and make it worse.” 

“Where am I?” Ethari repeated. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Yew,” The centaur said, setting the tray on a low table nearby. It was one of several items of furniture that seemed designed with four-legged folks in mind. “You’re in a guest stall at my parents’ farm, the barn specifically. You’ve been out for a couple of days. Mama was worried you’d starve. Here, put this on. It’s cold.” 

He held out the coat for Ethari to take, which he did, snatching it out of his hands roughly. Once he had shrugged it on, Yew reached out to touch Ethari, and Ethari flinched, slapping his hand away. 

“Relax, I’m just checking your temperature,” Yew said, knocking Ethari’s hand aside and placing his palm on his forehead. “You’re still feverish, but you’re not boiling like you were two days ago.” 

Ethari swiped at him, his anxiety spiking. “Get off me! What are you people going to do to me?” He asked indignantly, trying to back away from Yew but not getting far. 

“Nothing?” Yew replied, tilting his head. “Other than overfeed you, maybe. My papa is always encouraging people to eat more. Speaking of which, you must be hungry, right? Eat.” Yew motioned at the tray. “Don’t try to stand up yet. We’ve contacted my brother, Cetzu; he’s really good at carving. He may be able to fix you up.” 

“What are you talking about?” Ethari said distrustfully. “What do you mean? What do you people want from me?” 

“Like I said, nothing,” Yew said, moving toward the door. “Eat your food before you pass out again. Keep the noise down, though. Birch’s threats aren’t empty. If you disturb Hazel at all, he’ll knock you on your tail.” 

“I’m already on my tail,” Ethari said sarcastically. 

Yew laughed good naturedly. 

“I suppose that’s true. Eat.” And with that, Yew closed his door.

As soon as there was no one in sight, Ethari began wolfing down the food that was offered. He knew he would make himself sick doing that, but he couldn’t control himself; he was literally starving. Thankfully there wasn’t too much on the tray, perhaps because they knew he would have gorged himself if there was, so he wasn’t grossly over-full. There was a jug of water on the table and he drank deeply from it, not even bothering to use a cup.

After he finished, he made an attempt to stand, only to stumble and fall immediately. Groaning in frustration, he thumped his hands against the floor. Unable to move and suddenly exhausted, despite his anxiety and fear, Ethari passed out once more.

When he woke up again, it was dark. His stall door was open and there was a candle burning on the frame of the door. Yew was kneeling on his belly just outside of his stall door, knotting cord by candlelight. 

“What do you want?” Ethari snapped. 

Yew looked up. “Ah, you’re awake.” He set the cord aside and got to his feet, bringing in another tray of food and taking the empty one. 

“Why didn’t you just let me die?” Ethari asked. “What do you get out of helping me?” 

“Why would we need to get something out of it?” Yew asked, tilting his head again as if he didn’t understand. He reminded Ethari of a puppy he once knew, ages and ages ago. “That’s not something we care about around here.” 

Ethari grunted distrustfully. Yew knelt down next to him and regarded him thoughtfully. Ethari leaned back, glaring at Yew.

“Am I allowed to leave?” Ethari asked. 

“Well, sure,” Yew said. “If you really want to leave, we won’t stop you, but I… can’t imagine you’d get far at the moment. You can’t even stand up yet.” 

Ethari couldn’t argue with that, but he wasn’t about to say it out loud.

“You’re from a ranch, too, aren’t you?” Yew said suddenly. 

Ethari blinked. “Too?” He echoed, surprised out of his wary demeanor. He didn’t need to ask what kind of ranch Yew meant.

“Yeah,” Yew pulled his curly hair aside and showed Ethari the ear with the puncture hole in it from where the cattle tag had been. “My brother, Birch, and I escaped from one years ago when I was seven, from the big continent north of here. Did you escape too?” 

“I don’t know you. I don’t have to tell you anything,” Ethari said hotly.

“No, I know that,” Yew said, but he waited expectantly, his expression open and curious.

“I didn’t escape,” Ethari said eventually, if reluctantly. “There was… an accident.” He shifted his missing leg, and then stopped and winced when the pain got worse. “I couldn’t work anymore, so they were sending me somewhere, but I don’t know where. When they realized I was dying, they dumped me on the road.” He peered at Yew. “How did you know?” 

“You don’t have a tag like Birch and I did, but I can tell. You’ve got whip marks on your flanks and I saw what seemed like shackle marks on your back legs. I’ve seen enough of those in my youth to know exactly what it means.” Yew sighed despondently. “I didn’t realize there were slave ranches here.” 

For the first time, he looked sad and disheartened. It didn’t suit him, Ethari thought. He looked better when he had that big, dopey smile on his face.

“Officially, there aren’t,” Ethari told him. “It’s operating illegally, I gather. That’s why they were sending me away. I heard that legal ranches have to report accidents to the local lord, for compensation. I can’t collect compensation as a slave, and the owners can’t report and out themselves for owning slaves illegally. So they had to get rid of me. I don’t know what their original plan was. I shudder to imagine, though.” 

“Are there others? I mean centaurs, like us?” 

Ethari shook his head. “Only me and two others. They’re still there. They were sold to the ranch from the colosseum in the big city, what’s it called? Dunmountain? Around there. They have debts to pay, so they’re indentured. My mother was also enslaved there, but she died four winters back. I think she was indentured, too, but we never talked about it. She didn’t like to bring it up. But when she died, I inherited her debts, so…”

“Are there others besides centaurs? How many?” 

“A dozen, I think? There could be more I don’t know about, I was confined to the fields and the barn, so there were places on the ranch I’d never seen or entered.”  

“Where is it? The ranch, I mean,” Yew asked, a strange glint in his eye. A hint of anger, perhaps? Another emotion that didn’t suit his face.

“I don’t know,” Ethari admitted. “I was born and raised there. This is the first time I’ve ever been off the ranch in my life.”

“It feels weird, huh?” Yew said with a sad smile. “Like you should be doing something. You’re not used to sitting still in one place, right?” 

Ethari paused and nodded, grimacing. “I feel… off. Out of place. The ranch was terrible, but… it’s familiar. I know what to expect there. All this…” He waved at the stall and gestured at Yew. “I don’t know what any of this is.” 

Yew nodded. “It’ll feel strange for a while. Don’t worry. Everything will be alright.” 

Ethari couldn’t help but allow the corner of his mouth to go up slightly.

“You sound so certain of that.” 

Yew grinned. “I am.” Yew got to his feet and made to leave. “Eat and rest. Don’t worry about a thing. Mama will be in in the morning to check on you, but don’t be rude to her; she saved your life.” He pointed a finger at Ethari in warning, but Yew looked so unserious that Ethari nearly laughed. “One thing you gotta know about me: I’m a mama’s boy through and through, so don’t you go disrespecting my mama.”

Ethari snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

The next morning, Ethari was awoken by the door of his stall opening and an older human woman with greying hair entered, wearing a blouse and sensible trousers and carrying a bag.

“You’re not a centaur,” Ethari said. 

“Well-spotted,” She said with a lilt in her voice. “You’ll be hard pressed to find many of your kind on this continent. There are only a handful or so that I know of, besides my boys, and that includes you.” 

“You’re Yew’s mother?” 

“The very same,” She said, reaching out her hand for a handshake. “I’m Ryel.” 

Ethari didn’t take her hand, simply glared at it distrustfully, and she eventually dropped it. 

“I’m here to change your bandages,” Ryel said. “Are you gonna let me do that?” 

“Just don’t do anything funny,” Ethari said, leaning a bit so she could get to the stump. 

“I don’t have a funny bone in my body, child,” She said with a chuckle. Ethari suddenly saw where Yew got his sense of humor. 

“So, Yew’s adopted, then?” 

“Of course,” Ryel said, pulling off the dirty bandages. “All of my children are adopted. My husband and I can’t have children, so we opened our home to the ones who need one.” 

“How many kids do you have?”

“Certainly more than most, but we like it that way. There are always more kids that need homes, and we like being that home. We’ll likely be taking them in until we die, and our kids will continue the tradition. That’s why we started this place.” 

“Hmm,” Ethari hummed, and then winced when she began cleaning the wound. “Is that big brown asshole yours, too?” 

Ryel laughed. “Oh, yes, he’s mine. Don’t take his current attitude to heart, child. He and Hazel got married recently, and Hazel’s been in delicate health lately, and he’s a little frazzled. He’s normally more level-headed.” 

“I don’t care,” Ethari said. “I’m not going to be here long enough to find out.” 

“If you say so,” Ryel said. She began rewrapping the wound. “Although, I’d wager you’ll be here for quite a while. Cetzu, another of my sons, will be here in a few days. He runs an orphanage in Coleville and he hates leaving it for too long, but he’s agreed to help fit you with a prosthetic. You’ll have to wait a few months for your stump to heal before you can even start to get used to using it, but there’s no reason not to start making it now. It can be adjusted once you’re able to wear it.” 

“And how much is that going to cost me?” Ethari asked bitterly. “What am I going to have to do to pay you back?” 

“Well, that’s not necessary, but hands are always helpful,” Ryel said. “Besides, it’s the chilly season, so there’s really nothing to do at the moment. All the canning and jarring is done, and there are only a few winter crops out in the fields right now which they don’t need much tending to and pretty much grow on their own, so there’s not really any need for you to do anything besides recover.” 

He grunted, not sure if he believed her. 

“And more to the point,” She continued as she packed up the medical bag. “You’re not in any condition to be doing any paying back, as it is.” 

“I’ll accept that,” He said begrudgingly. “I guess I don’t need to worry about it for a while, then.” 

“No reason to worry about it at all,” Ryel said with a laugh. “Listen, son, I get why you’ve got misgivings, but really, we don’t expect anything from you beyond getting better. Whatever you want to do once you’re up and about is your prerogative.”

“If you say so,” He replied. 

“You don’t have to believe me, child,” Ryel said, standing. “Rest. Yew will be in soon with your breakfast.” 

“Why him?” Ethari asked peevishly. 

“I suppose he feels responsible for you, having been the one to find you. You’re his first rescue, after all.” Ryel sighed. “You don’t have to like him, you know, but he’s just trying to help.” And she left. 

It wasn’t so much that Ethari didn’t like Yew, it’s just that Yew… was too perceptive. He saw more than Ethari wanted him to see. It made him uncomfortable. And he was too… happy. Ethari was used to being surrounded by those who were beaten down by their lives and circumstances, so he assumed most people were like that. He’d never met anyone who could brighten a room just by walking in it, the way Yew could. It almost hurt to look at Yew. He was like sunlight, but the kind that suddenly flooded a darkened room that light hadn’t touched in years, blinding and painful.

Soon enough, Yew arrived with another tray, just as Ryel said, but Ethari was squirming by the time he showed up.

“What’s up with you?” Yew asked, noticing Ethari fidget. “Did you eat something bad?” 

Ethari growled. “I… have to…” 

“Hmm? Speak up, I can’t hear you.” 

“I need the privy!” Ethari said loudly, embarrassed. 

“Oh!” Yew said, seemingly unfazed. “No problem, I’ll help. Here.” Yew held out his hands. “Stand up. You can lean on me.” 

Still distrustful but slightly desperate, Ethari took Yew’s hands and, after some struggle, managed to haul himself unsteadily to his feet. Yew swung around and used his own body to support the length of Ethari’s body. Slowly, with a lot of help from Yew, Ethari was able to limp out of the barn. Some of the other stalls also seemed to be occupied, but the doors were closed so Ethari couldn’t see inside. 

“Are there other four-legged folk here?” Ethari asked. 

“There’s Reed. He’s a deertaur, really rare. He’s smaller than centaurs, but he’s got antlers, so he needs as much room as we do. I’ve never even seen another person like him.” 

“Neither have I,” Ethari said, surprised. “I wasn’t even aware there was such a thing.” 

“There’s one more, I fibbed. Reed’s daughter is half-deertaur, but she takes after him and has four legs. She got her own stall recently, just turned thirteen. She’s at that age where she doesn’t want to share a room with her parents anymore, you know.” 

“I don’t know, actually.”

Yew laughed. “His son, River, has two legs, like his mother, but he’s got hooves, too. He’s really unique. Lymera has hooves too, but she’s a fawn, so that’s not unusual. She used to stay in the barn, as well. She liked it better than the house.”  

Ethari made a face. “Why are you telling me all this?” 

Yew laughed again. “Because you asked?” 

“I didn’t ask for the roster of your family, I just asked if there were four-legged folks besides you and your surly brother.” 

“True, but it doesn’t hurt to know. Besides, talking takes your mind off the pain. Hurts more when you’re quiet, doesn’t it? Talking distracts you.” 

It was excruciatingly slow progress, but finally they reached the latrine at the edge of the treeline. It was far enough away that the smell didn’t reach the house of the barn, but that meant getting there was an undertaking for Ethari. He was exhausted by the time he got there. He was able to enter by leaning his body against the walls of the latrine and limping inside, but once he had finished his business in there, it took all his strength not to collapse. 

“I need to rest for a moment,” Ethari said, breathing heavily. 

“Here, let’s get away from the latrine first,” Yew said, swinging around to support him again. Yew managed to get him to a patch of moss before Ethari practically fell. 

“I feel like I’m gonna hurl,” Ethari said, his upper torso bent and resting against a nearby tree. 

“Try not to, it’s not good for our kind to vomit,” Yew said, holding Ethari’s hair. “We’re too similar to horses like that.” 

“I’m fully aware of that,” Ethari snipped. “But that knowledge doesn’t help me in this situation.” 

“You want a beer?” Yew asked. “Birch always drinks when he feels sick. Counter-intuitive, I know, but it seems to help him.” 

“A beer would be amazing right now,” Ethari admitted. 

“Be right back,” Yew said, and dashed off. 

Ethari tried to breathe through the nausea, willing himself to keep his breakfast in his stomach, and heard four legs trotting up. 

“I had to fight Birch to get it,” Yew said, handing Ethari a wooden cup. “He really doesn’t like you.” 

“I don’t like him either,” You said peevishly, taking the cup and gulping swallows of the beer slowly. “Don’t you drink? I’ve never met a centaur who doesn’t drink. We were allowed beer even on the ranch.” 

Yew shrugged. “It’s just not for me. I can supplement what I need from alcohol with other things. Besides, I prefer wine, but it’s hard to store wine here. I get it every once in a while as a treat, but I don’t need it all the time.” 

“And you call yourself a centaur,” Ethari said, snickering.

“Hey, don’t tease, I already get enough of that from Birch.” 

You drained the cup and handed it back. “Is Birch the only one who drinks around here?” 

Yew nodded. “Afraid so. If you need more, you’ll have to go through him.” 

“Can’t I just go through you? Wouldn’t he give you some if you asked?” 

“Well, sure, but he knows I don’t drink. You might want to work on getting in his good graces.” 

“Ugh,” Ethari grunted. “I just can’t wait to kiss that guy’s ass.” 

Yew laughed. “All you gotta do is be nice to Hazel. That’s his softest spot. He really loves her.” 

“Hmm,” Ethari hummed, pensive. “I wonder what that feels like.” 

“Me too,” Yew said wistfully. “I’m kind of jealous of them, to be honest.” 

“You’re too young to think that way.” 

“Am I?” He said, tilting his head again. “I don’t think so. I think it’s normal to think about things like this. Being in love with someone is nearly impossible in a place like a ranch, where people are just trying to survive, so I think it’s normal to wonder about what loving someone feels like. Didn’t you just say that?” 

Ethari snorted. “I guess I did. You’re still too young. You’re not even twenty yet, right?” 

“So what?” Yew said, shrugging. “I’m old enough to get married, so I’m more than old enough to wonder.” Yew looked up toward the house. “Ah! Cetzu is here. I expected him to take longer, but he probably just wants to get back quicker. He’s another one who’s a fool for his family.” 

“The orphanage director?” Ethari asked. “And wood carver?” 

“He’s really a jack-of-all-trades type. He’ll fix you up. Do you think you can make it back to the barn?” 

Ethari sighed heavily. “I’ll try.” 

“Let me know if you can’t. I’ll get the boys to lift you like we did the day we found you.” 

Ethari grimaced at the thought. “No, on second thought, I’ll make it. If it kills me, I’ll make it on my own.” He peered up at Yew in an unfriendly way. “Well… help me up, would you?” 

Yew laughed again. “Yes, yes, come on.” 

With Yew’s help, Ethari managed to return to his stall in the barn, though he was so exhausted that he hit the ground as soon as he entered it. He was breathing hard, his heart beating out of his chest. He was in immense pain from that small amount of physical activity.

“I think I’m dying,” He wheezed. 

“No, you’re not dying,” Yew said, helping him out of his coat and covering him with blankets again. “But maybe we should see about fashioning you some sort of bedpan, so you don’t have to move again.”

“That sounds like a nightmare, but let’s do that,” Ethari said. “I don’t think I can move again for a while.” 

Yew laid his body down next to Ethari, covering him with blankets and using his own body to warm him. 

“You’ll be alright, Ethari,” Yes said softly, patting his back. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you die. You’ve got your whole life left to live, now that you’re out of that place.” He pulled Ethari’s sweat drenched hair away from his face. “Don’t worry,” He repeated. “I’ll take care of you.” 

Ethari lost consciousness, the last sensation he felt were Yew’s fingertips against his forehead.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[mochie85]

To Have and To Hold - Chapter 9 (Finale)

THaTH Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: Loki and Violet finally get a chance to talk. The final conclusion to this series A/N: I wanna give a big thanks to everyone who has helped me with this series. I couldn't have survived without you! Pairing: Loki x OFC/Reader Word Count: 3278 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, light angst Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Loki sat by the soul forge, staring at the two babies in front of him. They had turned and hugged each other. Latching onto an arm or the other’s head, as if they were still inside the womb. Twins! He should’ve known. To his credit, he probably would have if you didn’t hide the fact that you were pregnant.

He heard his mother’s footsteps before he saw her in the dim light. She walked up behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “They’re beautiful, Loki.”

He reached for her hand and held it on his shoulder. “Thank you, Mother. I just hope they’ll be all right. Five months is too soon for them to be born.”

“A gestational period for any Jotunn is a lot shorter than an Asgardian, or a Midgardian, for that matter. It’s not all dire.”

“I somehow feel like it wouldn't have happened if Violet hadn’t traveled through the Bifrost. I don’t blame her, of course. She did it to save me.”

“I hope you don’t blame yourself for this,” she rebuked.

“Well, then who can I blame?”

“Do you need someone to blame?” She asked. Loki sighed, not wanting to argue with his mother. He rubbed his face with his hands, fatigue setting into his shoulders. How could he explain all he felt? All his fears at now having to be a father when neither of his fathers wanted him.

“I wanted you,” she expressed as if she could read his mind and answer his questions. “I saw you coming. And I had wanted nothing more than to hold you in my arms the moment I laid eyes on you.” Frigga cried as Loki looked up at her.

She held his face in between her hands. “Odin had brought you home, bundled up in burlap. Then Thor saw you. He was so excited. He had always wanted a brother. He was lonely, and he secretly wished for you.” Loki held his mother’s hands to his face as she gently placed her forehead to his. He nodded as tears fell down his cheeks in silent cries.

“You are wanted, my dear boy. And by no one more than the woman you have chosen. And pretty soon the two miracles in that forge.” Loki let out a sob and cried in his mother’s embrace. She comforted him as she always did whenever Loki came to her in pain.

“Why haven’t you told us about her, dear? About the situation? We could’ve helped you from the beginning.”

“It was one thing after another. We never got a chance to talk about it ourselves.” He answered, wiping his eyes. “This is the first time I’ve been in the same room with her in over two months.”

“Ah. Then perhaps I shall leave you two to reconnect,” Frigga said looking over his shoulder. Loki turned around to see you leaning against the threshold of the room, hiding patiently and not wanting to ruin the moment between him and his mother.

“Violet. You should be in bed. What are you doing up?” Loki said coming over to you.

“I was just…I couldn’t sleep. I needed to see them.” You explained. You wiped the tears off Loki’s cheek in silent recognition.

“Your body has just gone through something amazing and has departed with a piece of your soul. It is craving to be near them.” Frigga enlightened. “It misses them.” She held her hand out to yours, beckoning you closer.

“Can I- hold them?” you said in wonder as you watched your little miracles sleep inside the soul forge. They were loosely swaddled in green muslin, holding onto each other so tightly. “Are they warm enough?” They were so small and so fragile looking. You were afraid they would break if you even so much as breathed too hard on them.

“Why don’t you get in with them, darling? Lie down and maybe the forge can help you too,” Loki suggested. Without taking your eyes off the twins, you carefully got in and lay beside them. You put your arms protectively over them, cradling them gently.

Your body visibly relaxed. You let out a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding as you sunk into the plush cushion of the forge. Neither of you noticed Frigga walking out of the room, stealthily. Smiling to herself at the wonder Loki had made for himself.

“They’re beautiful, Loki!” you whispered.

“Just like their mother.” He said sitting on the opposite side of the forge facing you. Loki reached in and swiped the hair off your face. You had changed. Life alone had hardened you. You were no less beautiful. But you had a solemnity in you that Loki could see. “Why, Violet? Why did you run away?” he questioned softly.

You looked into his eyes. They were unguarded and in so much pain. “I- I honestly can’t even remember now, Loki. All I remember is the feeling of regret for having done so. It was so consuming that it outweighed why I left. Then I came across the napkin you had written.”

You took out the napkin, the one you always kept with you, from your pocket and showed it to him. It was wrinkled and almost see-through. The edges were nearly torn from all the time you had opened it to read it. “I couldn’t believe that you would still love me after I hid the fact that I was pregnant. So I ran.”

Loki conjured your letter. His note, too, looked weary and torn from all the times he’s tried to make sense of your logic. “I don’t understand. Why would you think you weren’t worthy? ‘You were meant to be with someone who can be your queen? Your equal?’” he read aloud. “Darling, I-”

“Loki. You were livid! When you found out I was pregnant you basically alluded to me being a social climbing schemer!” Loki looked contrite, laying his head down on the cushion.

“You will never know how sorry I am for the way I made you feel. If I have to spend the rest of my life making it up to you I will. I will, Violet. Just…I’m so sorry.”

“Then when I spoke with Thor, he reminded me that you were a prince. This wasn’t just about us anymore. It was about a whole kingdom. A different culture. There were different rules now. I didn’t realize…I mean I knew you were a prince. But to me, you were just…Loki. The man who gave me roses and who would sneak out to the back glades with me. The man who put his arm around me when I got cold. Or steal kisses from me when no one was looking.”

Loki smiled. You never once thought about his position and rank or what he could do for you. It was always just about him and you. The only one who ever saw him as Loki, not the god of mischief or the Prince of Asgard.

He grabbed hold of your hand and squeezed it while laying his lips on your fingers. “I promise, Violet. I will never take that for granted. I realized too late that, in my own self-absorbed world, you only ever saw me as me. Thank you for that.”

“Loki, I love you. I still love you…”

“I love you too, Violet.”

“…It hurt me to write that note. And to leave you. Looking back, I know I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve talked to you first. But I didn’t know how. You were so angry about the baby. And then Thor said that your father would take them away and at that moment, I made a split decision to just run. I didn’t know I wanted them until the thought of taking them away hurt more.”

“Vee, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you or support you.”

“And I’m sorry I ran away and hid the pregnancy from you.”

Loki laughed, “Imagine to my surprise that you were still pregnant when I found you. And with twins, no less.”

You smiled back, holding your tears from escaping. “What happens now?”

“I don’t know, darling. But I do know that I want to be a part of your life if you’ll still have me. And a part of their lives too.”

“Will Odin keep you here?” holding onto his hand tighter. You were afraid he would suddenly be taken away if you let go.

Just then, the doors swung open, Odin burst through the doors with a line of Einherjar soldiers behind him. Loki stood to shield you, blocking you and the babies from Odin’s view. Loki’s face was stoic and hard, trying to anticipate what his father could be doing.

“Stand down, my boy,” Odin said coming closer to the forge. “I only came to see my new grandchildren.” The warmth of his tone left Loki stunned. He did not show it, however, and stood in place refusing to budge.

You gathered your babes, closer to your chest. The small, fragile babes were easily secured in one arm, as your other arm covered them. “You will not take my children away from me!”

“Rest child. I will do no such thing. I merely wish to see them.” Odin reassured you again.

“Father, what exactly are you trying to see? The resemblance? Because I assure you they are every bit as mine as they are my own body. Just because they do not resemble a frost giant, doesn’t mean…”

“Of course, they don’t look like a frost giant. They haven’t seen one yet. Have you changed in front of them? Or perhaps they are still too young to see.” Odin hypothesized. “Have you given them names? Have you called them yet?”

“No. No, we haven’t discussed it yet.” You answered. A thoughtful hum escaped Odin’s lips as he nodded. “Wait. I’m confused. Thor said that you would take the children and raise them in your ways until they are of age. I mean, isn’t that what you did with Loki?” you asked holding onto Loki’s hand.

“Loki was found on the steps of a temple. He was smaller than the other frost giant newborns I happen to come across and realized that he was left there abandoned.” He turned to Loki and said, “I heard your mother’s voice in my head then. She would’ve never spoken to me again if she found out I had left a small infant alone to brave this harsh world by himself.

“So I took you with me. The moment you opened your eyes and saw me, you had changed. Your markings had disappeared. Your skin, your eyes- they mimicked my own. I knew right then that you were going to be a force to be reckoned with.”

“Have you gone soft, Odin? Where is all this sentiment coming from?” Loki provoked.

“Don’t try my patience, boy.” Odin turns to you and says, “Now, tell me all that has transpired, and we shall see what is to be the outcome.”

Five months had passed, and you remained on Asgard with Loki and your new family. Part of the reason was that you were still healing, and Loki loathed to have you travel through the Bifrost in your condition.

You didn’t mind staying though. It was nice to have help and people to watch the kids from time to time. You doubted you could get that back home.

The other reason was that Loki wasn’t necessarily welcome back to Earth after the alleged attack on the air force base in France.

“Both Thor and I were there. So was Cal and Rhodey.” Bruce said through the holographic communication device. He and Thor had gone back to try and smooth things over with the United Nations and U.S. officials. “I know Rhodey might’ve been apprehensive, but facts are facts. Loki didn’t hurt anyone or do any harm. We were there to look for you because we thought you were in danger.”

“Thank you, Bruce.”

“No problem. It’s the truth. So, how are you getting along? How’s Vallen and Minerva?”

The thought of your twins brought a smile to your face. “Vallen is clingy. He is always holding onto his sister,” you laughed at how, even at his young age, Vallen is already protective of his sister.

“And Minerva looks just like her father. She prefers to be in Jotunn form, and I can only hold her temporarily before I need more protective clothing.” Of course, that means that she is always being held by Loki.

“Ah! So how is Loki?”

“He’s…” How would you describe him? The determination in his eyes when he wakes up in the morning, knowing he has a purpose in his father’s court made him look invincible. The smile he gets when he sees you and the babies after a long day in the high court was heart-warming. The nights you spent together reminiscing about old memories and reacquainting yourselves with each other were sensually and emotionally awakening. “…Happy. He’s happy.”

“Good. Listen, I’ll talk to you later. Tony wants to get started on making space for you and the babies when you return.”

“Thanks again, Bruce.”

“Hey, that’s what god-uncles are for.” He blushed and quickly disappeared from the holographic communicator.

“Are you leaving?” Loki’s voice echoed in the empty chamber. You turned quickly to find him leaning against the bedpost, a stunned look on his face.

“Loki! It was supposed to be a surprise.” You said walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his waist. His reluctance to hold you conveyed more than what he wanted to say.

“A surprise? Are you running again?” settling his hands on your arms. “Did I not spend enough time with you and the children? I knew I shouldn’t have agreed so quickly to father’s offer. I’m sorry Violet, please...”

“Loki! No! I’m not running! Not ever. Never away from you. And I would never take the kids away from their wonderful father.” You said kissing him on his lips.

“Then why?”

“I wanted us to have a home to go to when we were on Midgard. A place to call our own. I know the sanctions on your banishment haven’t been made clear yet, but when they do, I want us to have a safe place to be a family. It’s the least Tony could do after he reported the quinjet stolen. I mean honestly, so dramatic,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at Tony’s actions.

“So you aren’t… going away?”

“No! And if I do, I’m taking you with me.” You said wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him all over his face. “You, me…and the kids.” You corrected, laughing.

“Running alongside each other, forever.” He agreed. Forever. That was a word that had a different meaning for him and for your children. It could never be forever for you could it? You were only mortal. But Loki, and the children, had Jotunn blood. His immortality runs through their veins.

“Thank you,” Loki said shaking you from your spiraling thoughts. “For making a home for me…”

“For us!” you corrected.

“For us…wherever we may be,” he said kissing you passionately. He pulled your body closer to his and you melted right there in his arms.

“I have a surprise for you too.” He said coming out of the heated daze you two found yourself in.

“A surprise?” you said with a smile on your face, your worries all but forgotten.

“Yes, come on it’s out by the gardens.” He said grabbing hold of your hand.

“But the twins…”

“Are being watched by mother tonight and her ladies in waiting. They can’t get enough of them. Come. It’ll be like before- when we used to sneak out to hide our courtship.” Loki led you through the castle, hand-in-hand. Your soft giggles followed you through the hallways as servants bowed to both of you in your passing.

“Not so secret now, are we?” you laughed.

The jasmines were in bloom tonight. You could smell their sweet fragrance as you ran past them through the thicket of fruit trees. In the center was a blanket laid out with a large picnic basket. Books were stacked hurriedly in the corner as floating candles wafted by, giving the whole clearing an ethereal glow.

“Ta-da!” Loki exclaimed spreading out his arms.

“Loki! This is beautiful! It’s like…like…”

“Like the picnics behind the compound we used to have?” he finished your sentence. You walked towards the blanket, looking around at the floating candles of light. You were always amazed at Loki’s magic.

Turning back, you finally focused on him, with one knee on the ground. He smiled as he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and opened it.

“Violet, will you make me the happiest man, in all the nine realms and be my wife?”

“Loki…” his question was a shock to you. You stared at the ring, an oval shard of different colors, set in a gold band. It shone so brightly, even under the darkening skies. “Loki is this what I think it is?” You looked into his eyes. You could see the sincerity and love in them.  

“It’s a piece of the Bifrost, faceted with diamonds around it. I wanted to give you a reminder, that wherever you are, my heart will always find you and take me to you.”

“Loki.” Your eyes spilled tears and small sobs began to wrack through your body. “You know that you don’t need to do this. I love you.”

“I love you too, Violet…don’t need to do what, exactly?”

“Get married.”

“But, we love each other. Is that not why we should be married?” He asked standing from his kneeling position on the ground.

“Yes, but…”

“Vee, stop it.” He commanded. You looked up into his eyes, tears staining your cheeks. “Stop overthinking this,” he charged.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated…”

“Obligated?”

“With the kids, Loki. You don’t need to do this just because we have kids?”

“How is it never easy with you?” He said throwing his hands in the air. “I love you, you frustrating woman!” he cried holding your face in between his hands. “I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you and I have never stopped.” His emotions overtook him and he kissed you zealously.

“I want late-night dances…” he paused his kiss to say. “…and early-morning trysts with you,” Loki murmured in between lips and tongue. You remembered those words so ardently. They were the same words he said when he confessed his love to you all those months ago. A lifetime and heartache ago.

“I want to be yours! Your friend. Your husband. Your god!” he growled holding you tighter. His lips found the soft spot right under your ear that made you a quivering mess. “And I want you to be mine. My queen…” he kissed your neck. “My goddess…” kissed your cheek. “My wife.” He said taking your lips.

“Marry me,” he said breathlessly. “Bind my life with yours.”

You cried. The overwhelming emotion and love you felt for this man would never let you turn him down. You would do anything and everything for him. “There’s nothing I want more than to be yours. In front of everyone. In front of the whole world.” You said, repeating the same answer you had given him all those months ago. Loki’s smile grew as he picked you up and twirled you around the haze of light and trees.

“To have and to hold,” he breathed, kissing you one more time.

“Forever.”

⬅️Chapter 8 | Epilogue ➡️

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @vickie5446 @psychospore @mukagentropy @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallows @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine711

[judesmoonbeauty]

Licht Klein Act 2 - Chapter 1 Summary

Not 100% accurate. Cybird owns everything. This is a summary only. Expect grammatical errors.

I'm finally getting around to this. I'm not going to rush though, so please be patient.🐺

The chapter opens with the single rose that in the glass jar in the middle of the garden that symbolizes the love of Licht & Emma. There are flashbacks of Licht's romantic route CG, and their engagement ceremony. Licht promises to make her happy even though their love will come with pain. The more the light of their happiness grows, so does the depth of the shadows of their love. They both choose to ignore this and remain in their blissful dream.

Licht runs into Nokto in the corridor. It's the middle of the night and Nokto is worried by how much sweat Licht is drenched in. Licht says it's no biggie and Nokto calls him a liar. Nokto tosses a burlap sack to him. It's drugs that Nokto got from Jade. They are controlled and he even fudged the books so no one finds out that he obtained them – especially Sariel – because let's face it like Licht says: He'd be more than pissed. It's a powder that Licht is skilled at taking and he downs it in front of Nokto. Licht is about to down another when Nokto stops him because it's a stronger dose than normal. Nokto says that he is getting worse by the day and asks if he dreams about their mother that much.

Licht says no, it's a more terrifying dream than that. Nokto is still squeezing his hand and grips it more tightly, much so that Licht's face contorts. He asks why Licht is the only one who gets this way, and says that Licht should be happy already. Licht tells Nokto not to get him twisted because ever since he's met Emma he is happy everyday. Nokto is confused by this. They stare at each other trying to find the right words until Licht says that this isn't like Nokto, and Nokto agrees releasing his brother.

Like none of their exchange just happened, Nokto asks how Licht going to hide it when he leaves Court? Licht says he isn't sure because Emma is sharp as a tack, but he'll figure it out. Nokto hands him one more thing – a book. A diplomacy manual that's packed with fine print. Nokto mentions Licht sucks at diplomacy at Licht admits its true. Emma will be handling the diplomacy and Licht will be the escort, which Licht thinks isn't cool. He asks why Nokto is being so nice, and Nokto says he'll take the book back. Licht is like: Just kidding, thanks. Nokto tells him to bring back souvenirs, and he says that he heard a rumor via Silvio about the country he is to visit, and tells Licht to be careful.

Emma's transition from commoner to royal fiance is a busy one. Classes all day long, but because of the abolition of Clause 99 she can see Licht everyday. Then one day, Licht surprises Emma with their very own villa. He's finally built her their home that he promised her in a previous event. He hates that there are so many things that keep them a part and he wants to keep her for himself as much as he can.

He places the blame mostly on Jin, Clavis and Leon for always taking him to drinking parties he doesn't want to go to, traps, and so on. It seems they're doing whatever they can to be close to Licht. (Cuuuuute).

He gives her a key to the villa and they go inside. He brought in the bare necessities, but wants Emma to furnish it fully. He kisses her sweetly at first, but then pries her mouth open with his fingers and delves deeper with his tongue. They slowly lose themselves in the kiss, until their lips part with a silver strand of saliva still connecting them. If it were nighttime Emma thinks that she would've begged for more. She mentions to him that it's a shame that they won't be able to come to the villa again for a while since they will be going to Tanzanite.

Flashback to a few days prior, Leon calls Licht and Emma to the throne room. Since they are teaming up with Obsidian. In exchange for a military alliance/protection and some advanced technology, Rhodolite agrees to cooperate in trying to obtain information on the alliance between Ruby, Achroite, and Tanzanite.

Gilbert had personally made his way to Rhodolite to ask for their cooperation. To respond in kind, Leon, Chevalier and Yves traveled to Obsidian. Leon plans to send Licht to the most dangerous country. Which Licht thinks he is referring to Ruby – which is overrun by civil wars. But Leon says it's Tanzanite. Leon is sending Licht because no one knows what is going on in Tanzanite, but it's easily accessible due to it's large tourism industry. Licht mentions there is a clear boundary between the common people and the royal family as they are known as, “messengers of God.” Leon is impressed that Licht has done his research as he doesn't usually care about what goes on in other countries.

It seems a painting that contained a certain place that a certain person used to talk about all the time to Licht sparked his interest in the past. The picture contained the desert. Emma started to look for clues about that place and eventually she finds out the person who talked about it was from Tanzanite. Licht says that it is a strong possibility as they welcome dancers and singers of all sorts there, and his mother was a songstress. And it was his mother who told him about it.

Leon mentions that if Obsidian is having trouble obtaining information then someone is concealing it very well. Emma and Licht agree to go despite the danger.

Back to the present – Licht sits on the bed with Emma and combs her hair. He tells her that he brought her there because they will be gone for a while. He promises to protect her, and hugs her. He tells her:

“I won't let anyone.....take you away from me.”

Fast forward a bit and they are at Tanzanite via the Benitoitian sea route, and they notice that they market is a lively place. Emma is wide-eyed like a child and Licht thinks she's cute. However, many people have been staring and whispering about Licht and the color of his hair. Licht grabs her hand because it's packed with people and drags her to the middle of the square. There is literally a large statue of Azel in the middle of the square.

Emma wonders if it is of someone who is famous in Tanzanite and then she walks up to it because the face looks familiar, but can't quite put her finger on where. Licht is literally jelly of the statue and pulls her back to him. Emma kisses him out of his childishness.

[Next] [Master List]

[keter-kan]

Okay!! I've been working on something for a really long time with some oc's that are near and dear to my heart ♡ I've gotten quite a bit already written, a bit less edited. I'm thinking of doing some more in-depth posts about the characters and their lore, if anyone would be interested! Possible first chapter post tomorrow?

Also, you're not allowed to make fun of me for the shit formatting of this post. I'll figure it out eventually, I swear.

tw: heavy mentions of sa, p*dophelia, abuse, death, murder

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Broken Legends

Prologue

Leandra’s father abused her as a child, but everyone could see that clear as day. The people knew of the king’s predilection for little girls, but none seemed to care enough to do much about it. Either that, or their fear was too great to intervene. Blood right, birth right, sovereign right, whatever they wanted to use as an excuse for the deranged, disgusting behavior of the man whose father’s father staked his claim on the coastal kingdom of Aphoreum.

He never touched his son; little boys weren’t his taste. He rarely touched his wife—may her soul flow freely—but she certainly seemed to keep him in line. Until her death, there was a restraint to him that withered away as she did; rotting and leaving a smell no one could erase from his soul.

Queen Imogen died under seemingly un-mysterious circumstances. She didn’t fall suddenly ill after a lifetime of health, she didn’t claim abuse, and she certainly didn’t suspect that someone quite close to her could be the cause of her failing body. Everyone mourned for the appropriate period of time.

Everyone except the children, of course. They still find themselves mourning the idea of a mother they could barely remember. To Leandra, her mother was strong and wise, the way a woman should be. To her older brother, Callum, there was the abandonment of the only woman who would unconditionally love him. She chose to remember a legacy, while he was bound to the anger he felt towards the undeserving dead.

The first child, the original heir, was sickly; an affliction seen often in the more recent royal blood. Really, though, the only difference from the royal blood and that of all peasants was its incestuous nature. That was something the Terrance Reign brought back to the royal line after nearly a century of free marriages.

Heir to Aphoreum, Prince Terance VIII, died peacefully in his sleep on the night of his tenth birthday. Those who said his mother killed him to give him a better life soon found their heads in burlap sacks, so not many say that anymore. It was soon after Terance was dead that their mother went to join him.

Callum was named the successor to the throne just a day after his mother’s funeral. After the grand ceremony, as the succession of High Councilors and Noblemen kissed the stones at Callum’s feet, Leandra’s father took her away where no one would see for the first time.

From that moment forward, Leandra had a new understanding of her place in the palace. While her brother grew up to become the king he wasn’t meant to be, her father taught her what being a woman of royal blood really meant: when her brother left on his journey to become a man, she would go with him and ensure pure heirs.

Aphoreum’s soul was born of the blood shed by those who fought and killed the demons plaguing the land. Countless villages were saved, small kingdoms sprouting throughout. As men pushed forward, demons fled back to the oceans, leaving Aphoreum to be conquered by whoever was left. At least, this is what was taught to the people.

There are thousands of dusty and cracked scrolls of parchment scattered throughout all cities and towns in Aphoreum containing the history of the land; how the Gods rewarded us with lush fields and bountiful rivers for banishing all of their enemies to the sea. That is, to this day, where they are said to dwell.

Things started crumbling at the end of Aphoreum’s War, started by none other than Terrance the First. It took five generations, yet they reigned victorious. For the first time since anyone could remember, the entirety of Aphoreum was ruled under one king. None of the other prior kingdoms were proud of that. With their previous rulers executed during the Reckoning—the day Aphoreum’s War was officially won—they fell into disarray. Villages plundered, women sold to richer men, entire ways of life decimated under the fist of a barbarian king. For King Terrance VII, the duty to uphold total power over all of Aphoreum was a goal only completed by the iron fist of his forebearers. He held to the pride of men who fought for honor while he sat upon his plush throne.

Leandra was literate thanks to an old wetnurse that her father had killed when she was eleven. Once she was no longer needed to feed Leandra’s bastard half siblings, she was sent with the Wind. After that, the only person ever present in Leandra’s life was High Councilor Jonas, a man who never touched her unless to pat the top of her head. He taught her of Natural Chaos and what tarnishes the soul, but he also taught her that there are good odds and ends in the world, too. She just had to look very hard to see them.

Jonas was the sole educator of both Leandra and Callum, but also their father before them. He was a truce sent from the church to Terrance VI, begging him to forgive them for not modifying their scripture the first time he asked. After Grandpa Terrance killed the High Priest residing in the palace chapel, they changed their tune. Jonas, however, understood the weight of the duty he’d been assigned. To teach the young is to mold the innocent in whatever way you see fit. But not every child is as easily molded. Terrance was a child full of hate, instilled in him by his own violent father. Callum seemed to be taking after his father in more ways than one, although Jonas continued every day to try to stray him from that path. Leandra, however, was different.

Before being sent to the palace, Jonas’s congregation of High Councilors—beknown to him or not—swore upon themselves that they would right the wrongs of the Natural Chaos afflicting the royal blood, whether that be by violence or sacrifice or any other means necessary. This was a promise the church sat upon for far too many generations to count if it hadn’t been for the numerals after each king’s name. But they had to bide their time. They had to bend their rules, change their faith, modify their scripture, all to appease the man they planned to overthrow. Another mighty aspect of the Terrance Reign was the slow and steady separation of the church from the crown, an unspoken duty bestowed to each heir as the generations passed.

It was through Jonas that Leandra learned of the world, the scrolls of scripture being her main escape, but not the modified texts of the Terrance Reign. Jonas was molding Leandra to be the savior Aphoreum needed, and this was the beginning.

Leandra would read the stories of the Gods who seemingly abandoned her. She found solace there, between the pages of their legends. The comfort of long forgotten rules set by wrongly worshipped Gods was the only kind of comfort she could afford.

Terrance was of a breed of man who more closely resembled their primal counterparts: feasting, fucking, and fighting. Not much else crossed his mind.

There are those who know better, despite class or background or who sits upon Aphoreum’s throne. But the rage projected by King Terrance found a home in the hearts of his men, creating a society of violence. There were few pockets throughout the kingdom where none could be found, most of which were under attack by those taking after their king.

On the day Callum turned twenty he found himself embarking on just such a conquest, yet one of a much different scale. A Wandering is any man’s rite of passage, giving him a year to stake his claim away from his family someplace else amongst the Waters and Winds. If they never returned after a year’s time, they weren’t ever meant to be a man. With Callum, however, his Wandering was an expedition into the known world with an army at his back and a ship full of wine. As were the odds of all those who could afford it, he would likely return more of a man than those without the gold in their pockets.

It was a simple plan with a grandiose design, allowing a full year of celebration for the future king of Aphoreum. Ships made of the finest timber harvested from the southern coasts, casks of wines and spirits shipped from around Aphoreum, clothes and finery made by request for his highness. With him would go his soon-to-be wife, Leandra.

The relationship Leandra shared with her brother wasn’t one of solidarity. He was to be his father’s spawn as Leandra was to be an instrument in his success. The moments of torture and humiliation caused by her father were in preparation to be used by the future king. Knowing this, she harbored many emotions for him, none of which she understood. She knew he was tainted the same way their father was before him, and their children would be after them, and she prayed that something—anything—could steer her fate in any other direction, for she knew his never would be.

When Jonas approached her after class, crumpled parchment in a High Councilor’s shaking hands, she took it without question. She looked in his eyes and saw the pain he felt, the longing for the Gods to make the world what it once again should be.

When she unfurled the note, she needed no further explanation than what was found there. Stained with the sweat of her mentor’s hands, four simple words bleeding into the page; Jump. You’ll know when.

The final weeks leading to her brother’s Wandering were full of tension. Leandra unfurled the parchment in her hands night after night, feeling the scratches of ink fade away as she rubbed it between her fingers.

Jump.

She could barely contain her excitement. She was going to weasel her way out of the chain of command. The only man who ever truly understood her the way the Gods intended had devised a plan for her to escape.

You’ll know when.

Stiff in her seat at the Grand Table, Leandra watched her plate as the men feasted around her. Tomorrow morning the Wandering would begin, and as the fleet of Aphoreum’s ships left the harbor, she would have to be ready to flee at any moment. She knew what Jonas meant about knowing when: she needed to wait for a message from the Gods. She would pray and worship and fast and deny herself the pleasures of life to prepare herself for the message she knew the Gods would give her. She would be ready.

When the sun rose over the harbor the following morning, Leandra was at peace for the first time since she was last held by her mother. She felt as though there was finally a real purpose to her plight in life and that she would be able to break the mold that her many greats-grandfather had created here. She felt as though she—alone—could crumble the system built by generations of the world’s most appalling men.

They set sail on a glorious day. Callum made a speech just after King Terrance, pushing the entire kingdom into a week-long celebration. Bottles broken, oars heaved, sails unfurled, and they were out of the mouth of harbor in just a few hours’ time.

For the first week of their voyage, Leandra didn’t speak with Callum. Not that he had much to say to her, anyway, besides the remarks of needing to secure an heir before the year’s end. Every night he’d mention it, and every night she’d comply, silently awaiting the sign promised her.

After that first week, Leandra grew a bit restless. And the week that followed that one made her even worse. The further they traveled from Aphoreum, the more the bruises left by her father healed, the more Leandra thought that there wouldn’t be a message, or maybe she had missed it… She started toying with the idea of living a life with her brother and what that could entail for her. She couldn’t stomach the thought of living in a world that her Gods had forsaken, but if she could make her brother see things the way Jonas had intended, maybe there could be a change.

When she finally spoke to her brother, she asked him if he’d care to know her, because, really, they just knew so little of each other.

He said he very much would. He was strong, but he was nervous. He couldn’t ever rule the way his father intended, but he wanted to try.

She said she could help him, if he’d let her.

They were children. What little they could have learned through life was filtered through their father’s vision. But he wasn’t here with them now.

The storm hit just three days from where they would dock. As the rain pelted the decks of the ships and the waves swelled, Callum’s men remained calm. They knew how to work a ship in a storm. For a while, everything remained intact. The fleet, the men, even Leandra.

But the storm became something else. After countless hours of toiling under the whip of rain and wind, the air started to become heavy with the stench of something bigger. As the waves turned from rolling hills to staggering cliffs and the raindrops into daggers, the men started to lose themselves.

The young ones jumped first. Callum was called from his cabin, forced to peel Leandra from his side. As she huddled amongst the furs adorning the mattress, Callum entered into a scene from the pits of the Gods’ hatred.

He was met with a force of nature never defeated by any king. As the ship was flung from one wave to the next, Callum’s men were dropping to their knees and scraping themselves towards the rails, throwing themselves into the raging sea. As he inched over the deck, grabbing the rigging and buckets dropped by his men, he saw a look on their faces that reminded him of his mother’s corpse in her ornate casket; there was no soul within them. Not anymore.

Screams were swallowed by the waves and the winds, words lost and breath wasted. As Callum pleaded with his mean until his throat was bloody and cracked, it overtook him.

She was calling to him. No, no…

Singing.

It was subtle at first, a slow drone playing at the base of his skull, humming away as he grabbed at his men bent on suicide. The more he pleaded, the harder his skull thrummed, filling his head with a desire unknown to man. As the irritation started to spread and his screaming and howling continued to fail, the soft beads of sound started to poke pin-pricks in the humming, driving Callum to gasp and shake with momentary relief before again being swallowed by the desperation. As another wave threw the ship far off course and doused the men in water colder than ice, he broke.

“Mother?”

She was there. Her golden hair cascading down her shoulders, her naked form hovering above the railing of the ship, situated the way a God would be. When Callum locked eyes with her, he felt that she was truly there, waiting for him to reach her.

She called to him, sang to him, cooed over the man he had become. Tears mixed with the rain and sea as they poured down Callum’s cheeks. He slowly made his way towards her.

Leandra emerged from the cabin as the thrumming started to overtake her. Her shift whipping in the wind and her hair matted to her head from the rain, she saw the horrors on deck.

The Gods had sent their message.

Tears brimmed in her eyes, too, but they didn’t get the chance to meet the wood of the ship. Leandra trusted her Gods. She trusted Jonas.

She jumped.

There was no sound as she hit the water. There was no cold embrace of the ocean, no being swallowed by the waves. She let herself be taken fully, succumbing to her fate.

Although she wasn’t expecting pleasure, nor was she expecting the pain.

Hands grabbed at the shift plastered to her skin, ripping it from her body in mere seconds. As the thrumming ceased in the back of her skull, she was taken in a way no one had taken her before. Not the man slaves who lurked after her in the palace, not her brother who she grew to love, not even her father, who defiled her in a way no other living thing could.

While her soul was ripped apart, shredded down to the sand that littered the ocean floor, she knew her Gods had forsaken her.

-

Leandra had no recollection of returning home. One moment she was suffering the pain of all the Natural Chaos, and the next she was dragging herself across the wharf, blood trailing in her wake. The moon was full.

Jonas found her and took her back to her father at the palace.

Her skin was burnt, her hair missing in chunks. Her bones poked through her skin like they wanted to free themselves from its cage. Her eyes drooped in their sunken sockets, unable to comprehend the world around her. She cried her story to Jonas, who begged her father to let a healer see her, even just one from the church. He refused.

For Leandra was with child, and heavily so. Her body, slowly failing her, was feeding something inside of her that wasn’t human.

She was pregnant when Jonas lifted her from the harbor, but the progression of her state was faster than it should’ve been; her stomach bruising and aching and protruding more every day. Her bones became brittle, her legs sitting at crooked angles and her neck unable to support the weight of her head. Upon the next full moon, when the tides were high, Leandra called for Jonas with what little strength she had left.

He leaned down to her ear, her breath almost too light to decipher the words.

“Please,” she whimpered, “don’t let him kill my daughter.”

That night, as her screams of labor began, Jonas pleaded once again with the king. Terrance, with a glare in his eye, allowed for a wetnurse from the palace chapel. He wouldn’t permit anyone besides himself and Jonas in the chambers, let alone a practiced healer. The nurse was the most she would get.

When she arrived, the horror that overcame her hit a part of her soul that hadn’t ever been touched before. The king demanded death to the child upon delivery, bolting the door behind them as he left.

When Jonas asked her to defy him, her soul said yes, as the woman had done for him many times before.

She died without seeing the full moon that night. As her child took their first breath, Leandra took her last.

Her child was a beautiful monster. A writhing mass of body, shifting in form while the wetnurse clung to his mottled skin. Within a moment, the child opened his eyes, and ceased being a monster. He was a baby, covered in his mother’s blood, eyes peering into those of the woman who held him.

When the king asked for proof of the death of the monster upon the following morn, Jonas provided a mangled piglet’s corpse. The wetnurse, covered in cattle entrails, told Terrance it took more work than she’d have thought to kill such a small beast. He was satisfied.

Leandra’s body was burned in the kitchen fires by Jonas’s hand, as Terrance commanded. There would be no funeral. There would be no knowledge of the children who failed at their Wandering. That would be the end of their stories. Terrance would find a concubine to produce a legitimate heir amongst the few cousins he had left. Aphoreum would live on.

But so did Leandra’s child, deep in a forest untouched by man, left in the hands of powerful women that the Gods would grow to fear.