Her belly is ROUND. Every time she wiggles there's a jiggle. Every little bump makes a hump. She felt like a massive planet at this point but what had happened?
[Fade in dream sequence]
There were some fermented apples that Marika had decided to munch on. It's was spring...the air was warm...she was feeling quite lovely. After some more apples, a stallion had approached her with some extra suave words (though she was having a bit of a time trying to understand through her intoxicated brain) and boy, he was a handsome fellow! (though she was having a bit of a MORE time trying to see through her drunk googles). So after the two had a mumbled chat, Marika finds herself rolling in the hay with this fine gentleman, knocking hooves , if you will. Well here we are eleven months later and Marika figures she should probably find her soon to be baby daddy.
Spring it was again and this little kidlet was going to drop soon. So with a peaked outlook and a smile on her lips she works to try and find the dashing unnamed fellow who swept her off her hooves. Marika and Fuzzy! (still in utero)
@[satire]
It's short but I wanted to put something up. I'd love for them to truly meet!
08-04-2016, 07:44 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-04-2016, 07:46 PM by satire.)
If you're a blacksmith, probably the proudest day of your life is when you get your first anvil. How innocent you are, little blacksmith.
When God said ‘be fruitful and multiply,’ He probably wasn’t talking about Satire. Like, definitely wasn’t. Because some horses are meant to be genetic dead ends. Nature is supposed to intervene, to get that natural selection on and kill them dead before they get a chance to pass on those defective genes. Barring that, his personality was pretty much like 3 months worth of birth control. Also, the fact his conformation is so bad he pretty much looks sewn together, like a Frankenstein.
(I know it should be Frankenstein’s monster. Maybe the real monster is you, correcting things in this obviously satirical [HAH] post.)
And yeah, there’d been one kid, back with his bae Lauren (AN: pretty sure that was her name, I’m not looking it up because I am in a Flow and this is all the definition of stream of consciousness writing anyway). But that was an outlier.
Ready for a crazy ass metaphor?
Think of infinite monkeys on infinite typewriters given infinite time. Eventually they’re going to produce the entire works of Shakespeare, or my Hamilton fanfiction (there’s very little difference). Well, Satty isn’t infinite but he has been around for like a hundred years around a bunch of ladies, so eventually a lady is going to bang him, AKA produce a work of Shakespere.
Did that make sense? No? It did in my head. What we’re trying to say is that yeah, maybe it happened ONCE, but won’t happen again.
WELL, past author, joke’s on you. Because it totally effing did. MORE THAN ONCE. Maybe fermented apples were rampant, maybe magic screwed everybody up (hey, wasn’t that a Shakespeare plot? Also, why am I suddenly obsessed with Shakespeare today?), we just don’t know. But he know SATTY GOT LAID, Y’ALL.
And yeah, this lady, a gorgeous pumpkin spice color that he was so into he might as well be a white girl, had left kind of suddenly after rather than hang around and plan the glorious wedding they were obviously going to have.
But she was back! And round, like something orange and round. I can’t think of anything appropriate.
He smiled like a jack-o-lantern (I’m making a clever pumpkin allusion please acknowledge how hilarious I am) and bounded forward. Well, bounded in spirit, in reality it was sort of a lurch. Like, say, a Frankenstein.
“Hey bae,” he said, tossing his head in that casual ‘what’s up’ jerk that guys do, “what’s up?”
|
no i have not been drinking
Okay okay okay.
Today's the day! Marika is going to find her Prince Charming...waddle upppp all sexy like and BAM! Hey baby daddy!
Most perfect plan ever. She can't help but smile at her ingenious idea. Babies always save relationships right? They always make sure things work out, yes? So here we have, our little autumn latte darling, sauntering up in a super slow motion wobble. The dark eyes rotate around looking at all the faces for the right one. Pretty lips are pursed in a smile. "Oh you whooo!" She is calling out to no particular horse but hopefully her LOVAH would know... (because we all know how every one gathers in the meadow like daily for the haps on the Beqanna ponehs).
Well what do we have here? Also sorts of boys. Tall, ruggedly handsome, and super muscled bros. All of 'em! Except- "Hi, um,-" This odd, kinda squatty, round dude is all up on her. He is trying to give her sexy eyes but in reality it looks a little like he has a touch of the down syndrome and possible seizures judging by the way he keeps flicking his head.
SO
Our brown eyes girl with the big ole lady bump tries to pivot around him but this damn baby is refusing to let her walk normally. It's weird really, like there is a gravitational pull towards this guy and Marika looks him over. She's fighting passed the whiskers and the tub of a chub. She's reaaallllyyy fighting here and has to squint one eye, tilt her head exactly 22.4 degrees west with the sun blinding the other eye (like burn the retina) and
"Shit."
Marika feels the parasite swimming around in her heaving belly start going ape-shit and kicking. Right now the dun gal isn't sure if she's gonna hurl from the foal doing back flips or the flood of memories when things were going places they shouldn't have. (Wrong hole, fool!) AND as luck would have it, some pains start in her lady bits and her knees are getting shaky and weak...
"Oh great." This kid is on it's way and Mar had gotta who lotta notta time. So what's a girl to do? Baby magic time!
(and not the fun part)
So with some sweat on her brow and some pains in her loins she is looking at Rico Suave with a pretty hefty sigh. "Did you....and I...you know...?" Now the foal is running lamps against her bladder and her inability to barf is a pain in her womb (literally) but for now the kids not coming so okay...let's chit chat for a bit then. Marika and Fuzzy! (still in utero)
08-11-2016, 10:54 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-11-2016, 10:59 AM by satire.)
If you pet your pet rock enough times it will erode and you'll be alone again.
Satty is totally ready to be a cool father. He has a lot to teach children, many pieces of lore, like about how he was once king of sand, and about how someone totally banged him at least once (maybe save that story for when the kid is older). He already has the dad bod, or really more like three dad bods smashed together, which is actually like U L T I M A T E DAD BOD, which totally qualifies him to parent.
He ignores her Bad Language (they’ll have to talk about this, set good examples and stuff for the baby) and smiles beatifically. In his head it was a beatific smile, anyway; in reality it was sort of creepy. Lucky Satty is a pretty nice guy, and I don’t mean a Nice Guy ™, like those guys who “aren’t like other guys” but still get friendzoned then turn into bitter little neckbeard manbabies. We mean he is actually pretty nice. An idiot, yes. An affront to natural selection, yes.
But nice.
“Make love?” he asks, and I cringe a little, using that word even in this fictional wonderland, “absolutely. It was beautiful.”
He sheds a single year. It’s magnificent.
And though Satty’s emotional intelligence is about as low as his…other intelligence (spatial? Mathy? General? I don’t know what word I need. Also I’ve misspelled intelligence 2 3 times now and will use spellcheck to hide my shame but nothing makes me feel more stupid than doing that). Anyway, although it’s low, he notices she kind of looks in pain. Sometimes horses just have that expression when he talks to them, though. It’s a weird phenomenon unexplainable by nature.
“Are you okay?” he asks, then, “is our progeny coming?”
Progeny is a word he heard once and thinks makes him sound hella smart, so he uses it regardless of all the better-fitting words for the flow of this post and the Atmosphere ™ we are building here.
(I copied the ™ symbol for the earlier joke and must now use it at every opportunity. Do not cut and paste only to waste, is my incredibly rhyming motto I just made up.)
To conclude: Satty ™ Cares ™ About ™ Her ™.
(AN: I wonder if excessive use of the ™ symbol is gonna get me Sued ™.)
|
|
