Zombie Cats Punishment

Prompt: Zombie Cats

*warning-this is BtVS AU character fanfic* https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5civ7-d3CEM

It's been two hundred days without her and I'm losing my mind.

How can you move through life alone after you've spent five thousand, four hundred and seventy-five days navigating the world someone?

Dawn told me that resurrection spells are no good, but it hurts me to look at her side of the bed and know that it will forever be empty. I won't let the cats sleep there, she's never liked them. She's never liked any of our cats.

"Linnie, these fucking furballs have gotta go!" She would say every morning as she plucked the cat hair from her toothbrush.

It hurts to smile at her memory because I know that's all it is. An image of the past. The sound of yesterday. The smell of...I can't even remember the smells. The scent of the dirt from her grave is the only thing swirling in my nose, in my mind.

Taker of life, god of gods, accept my offering. Bone, flesh, breath. Yours eternally.
Bone, flesh, breath. I beg of you, return to me. 

I look down at the picture of Nessie and our first cat, Carmilla, and her babies. The beautiful, long haired calico died just a day after giving birth to her kittens. The kittens didn't make it long without her.

Taker of life, god of gods, accept my offering. Bone, flesh, breath. Yours eternally. 
Bone, flesh, breath. I beg of you, return to me. 

The fire from the candlelight was starting to dance fiercely from within the sacred circle as A rancid smell from the cracked Ghora demon egg wafts up to my nostrils, initiating a wave of nausea that I'm finding hard to fight.

Taker of life, god of gods, accept my offering. Bone, flesh, breath. Yours eternally. 
Bone, flesh, breath. I beg of you, return to me. 

My voice cracks as I repeat the incantation for the third time.

I exhale.

There's a knock at the door and I rush to it as I force my heart back down my throat with a swallow.

Will she like my hair? Maybe she'll poke fun at my breasts, I haven't been eating much and they're the first things that weight touches or runs away from. Oh my God...

My hand shakes as I twist the knob. The wind from the other side of the door nearly knocks me on my ass and my heart sinks back down sharply, deeply as Carmilla and her kittens stalk towards me.

Before I can shut the door she pounces at my face. Her breath smells of death and decay. Her claws feel like hot swords. Her offspring bite at my limbs and tear at my torso.

I'm dying. I'm being eaten by zombie cats.

THE SUN'S FUNERAL Punishment

Prompt: The sun's funeral


The date palms and lotus plants were arranged fervently throughout the temple. The smell of Kapet incense clouded the room, attempting to purify the minds of the Kamau that gathered there as it mixed with the redolence of the frankincense.

The tapestry that lay below the feet of the temple dwellers was especially radiant this evening as the light from the lanterns touched them, causing their colors to be even more brilliant.

The hieroglyphs on the walls surrounding the Kamau, the people, danced along to the sound of the drums, lyres and flutes. The Kamau danced with them.

Not a tear was in sight as this evening was driven by the energy of the celebration of life, not death. Every day is a preparation for the night to follow. Every death is a transition into the next life.

The sounds of the the instruments lowered, but continued their song as the Kamau shifted their attention from dancing to singing, chanting.

Aten is setting. Aten is resting. At dusk we have the funeral of the sun. The energy of the day has died and we dance joyously into the movement of the night. Tomorrow we will celebrate the birth, the return of the light, until then, we will dream through the night. 

As the celebration quieted down, the night fell deeper. The Kamau rearranged the temple to suit the festival of the moon. Again they'd dance, dance until it was time to travel into the land of dreams.

FORTUNE COOKIES Punishment

Prompt: Fortune Cookies


There was too much rain outside to stand in the kitchen cooking, but not enough rain to stop Mitou from going out. He hated making decisions,  but his wife was nagging and the kids were whining so a choice was made.


The car ride over to the family's favorite restaurant was as nerve grinding as ever. The kids were fussing over their favorite songs and his wife only wanted to discuss work. Question after question, she plundered him with queries about his job. Well, the job he used to have. The job he was fired from a few days ago. The job his wife thinks he still goes to every day.

"This song sucks, can we please change the station?" Mitou's daughter moaned.

"Whatever idiot, you picked the last one and that blew!" Mitou's son said as he punched his sister.

Every day, Mitou wonders why he pleaded with his wife to not have an abortion.

Mitou's wife took charge of the radio stations to quell the fighting.

Welcome to the evening news...

"Ahh! Mom!" the kids whined in unison.

"Hush it now" Mitou's wife said sternly.

A sixth victim was found tonight in what the police are calling the "Cookie Crime." Just like the other unfortunates, Jim Bower was found shot dead, execution style with a threatening message written on the slip from a Chinese Fortune Cookie held tightly in his hand. Law enforcement is still deeming these killings random as no connection between the victims was found nor a motive from the murderer. Shirley Brown is at the scene with the latest development...

"Oh God, the violence. What is wrong with people?" Mitou's wife said as she shut off the radio.

Mitou cringed at the sound of her voice.

"Can we just be quiet until we get to Hong Ji House?" Mitou said between gritted teeth.

The rest of the ride was silent; Mitou tried hard to smile.


"I'd like to order a large chicken and broccoli with brown rice for the kids to share, pork lo mein for myself and, honey, what do you want?" Mitou's wife asked him.

"Doesn't matter" Mitou said without looking up from his glass of scotch.

"Put in an order of general tso's for him, thanks" she said, staring longingly at her husband.

The waitress walked away with their orders and Mitou wished he could leave with her.

"Dad, when are we going to go visit Grandma June again?" Mitou's son asked.

When she's in her grave.

"Maybe sometime this summer" he replied as he swirled the ice around his glass.


He barely touched his food. The thought of having to participate in small talk and share pleasantries regarding their meals chased his appetite away. He could see the questions starting to form in his wife's mind and felt a ping of relief when the waitress approached the table carrying a tray of sliced fruit and fortune cookies.

"You might think, but the others before you know" Mitou's son read.

"There's no love greater than from one who has no likes" his wife read.

"Time is the beginning and the end" read his daughter.

Mitou cracked open his fortune cookie. You're next, it read.

Mitou smiled.

"What's it say honey?" Mitou's wife asked excitedly.

"It reads today's your lucky day" Mitou lied.

SANDSTORM Punishment

Prompt: Sandstorm

Another windy day in the wild, wild west.

Sharp Shooting Joe was finishing off another kill for yet another bounty. The man had more money than he needed to count and he was starting to get bored with the life he led. He used the handkerchief his mama made him to wipe the blood and sweat from his brow.

Hours later he found himself down at the local saloon, sipping on bourbon and to no surprise, taking in the latest "Wanted" posters.

"Hey! Bucktooth Bobby! Who's this fella here?" Sharp Shooting Joe yelled to the bartender as he tipped his glass toward the poster.

"That there is Pickle Eyed Pete. Finest handyman for miles. The man kills, steals and disappears like no one before his time. Sheriff can never catch up with. Rumor has it, that he gets away so well because he can jump through time. The law can't ever find em because he ain't never here!" Bucktooth Bobby said as he wiped down the bar.

"Hmm. He ain't been caught on account of me not catching em', that's all."

"I don't know Joe, I mean, we call you Sharp Shooting Joe for a reason, but this fella? He's smooth."

"Bobby, I'll shoot you right there where you stand. Now you make a hell of a drink, but don't go off saying things that don't make sense, especially when my name's involved. I'm finna find this fella and blow his brains out like I always do. Then, I'ma go on and collect my coins, like I always do. Now, where's the last place they saw this chap?" Sharp Shooting Joe said as he seated himself at the bar.

"Here."

"Hmm. Did he get away with anything? What's his motive?"

"No, Sheriff was at the bar so he didn't even try. He just came in for a drink. Probably just scoping the place out. As for his motive? I think it's just all fun for him Joey." Bucktooth Bobby said nervously.

"Yea, well, it's fun for me too. Call me Joey again and you'll catch a bullet in your baby toe. Got a feeling this fella will be back here and I'll be waiting for him."

Sharp Shooting Joe spent his night chewing tobacco and fantasizing about putting an end to Pickle Eyed Pete.  Maybe I'll make this my last he thought. Maybe.

The next morning he found himself posted inside the saloon. Patrons had been coming and going since daybreak; there isn't much to do in town.

Sharp Shooting Joe stayed unbothered and seated with a bottle of whiskey throughout the day. He'd only had to pull his pistol once on a fella who didn't want to pay his tab.

Pickle Eyed Pete didn't walk through the doors of the saloon until the threat of moonlight approached. Sharp Shooting Joe didn't move. Didn't even let the man know he was noticed. He just waited.

Pickle Eyed Pete swiped some loot and a couple bottles of moonshine from the bartender and quietly went back out the doors he first entered through. Sharp Shooting Joe followed him silently but swiftly out into the desert air.

The man trailed his bounty for what felt like miles. It wasn't until the saloon was well behind them and the edge of town was just a few pebble skips away that Pickle Eyed Pete stopped walking.

"You shouldn't kill me" Pickle Eyed Pete whispered without turning around.

"Hell I shouldn't" Sharp Shooting Joe shot him straight through the right hand causing him to drop the moonshine. He walked over to the now wounded outlaw and touched the end of his gun up to his head as he stood in front of him.

"Seems you've got an issue with taking what ain't yours. Now what was it that you were saying?" Sharp Shooting Joe said venomously.

Even with a pistol pushed up against his skull, Pickle Eyed Pete didn't squirm. Not a drop of sweat nor an ounce of fear trickled from him.

"Listen, before you do what it is that you do, I've got one word for ya" Pickle Eyed Pete said as he spat tobacco at Sharp Shooting Joe's feet.

"Oh yea, what's that boy?"

"Techno" Pickle Eyed Pete said dryly, ignoring the blood dripping from his hand.

"Tech who?"

"Techno. Music from the future."

"What in the hell are you talking about. You trynna stall me or something?" Sharp Shooting Joe tightened his grip on the pistol.

"Joe, don't do this, I'm tellin ya. You'll wanna hear this and you can't if you kill me."

"Hmm. They say you're a time hopper, well alright, now I'm curious. I'll tell you what though, you try anything stupid and I'll shoot you right in the dick and let you bleed out a little, actually a lot, before I put one in your brain" Sharp Shooting Joe threatened.

"I'm not shitting you, I swear. Go on and look in my pocket. The top left one under my vest."

With the gun steady on Pickle Eyed Pete's head, Sharp Shooting Joe stuck his hand in the man's pocket and pulled out a shiny contraption.

"Them future folk call that an iPod. Fancy huh?" Pickle Eyed Pete chuckled.

"Get to it Pete." Sharp Shooting Joe snapped.

"Oh relax Joe. Put them thangs in your ears, it's where the sound comes out. Go on, there ain't no funny business, I swear."

Sharp Shooting Joe placed the foreign matter in his ears and nearly jumped out of his body when Pickle Eyed Pete pressed play. The syncopated beats and almost painfully pleasing synthesized sounds took to roaming throughout his ears.

"Well I'll be damned. This techno, man this stuff makes my ears bleed like a pig before dinner, but I'd be a damn liar if I said I didn't want to dance!" Sharp Shooting Joe whooped as he pumped one fist in the air, all the while holding the gun steady to Pickle Eyed Pete's head with the other hand.

Pickle Eyed Pete laughed at the man despite the gun that was kissing his temple.

"Now Pete, would you call me crazy if I asked you for a dance?" Sharp Shooting Joe said, lowering his pistol.

"Nah, ain't crazy. Can't help it, the techno does that to you."

Despite the world and the reality surrounding them, the two of them danced. Right there in the middle of the desert. Right in the moment while the blood from Pickle Eyed Pete smeared and dripped all over.

"Whattaya call this anyway? Is this what it sounds like when people sing in the future?"

"It's not singing. It's the music that's made by a fella and his machines. He goes by Darude." Pickle Eyed Pete said with a breath of relief.

"What a funny name. Probably a funny fella. What's he call this one that I'm listening to?"

"Sandstorm."

"Hmm. Sandstorm. Fitting. Well Pete, it's your lucky day. And don't you worry, I'll keep this little techno thang between you and me. But I swear, on my momma and her hogs, Pete I'll blow your head off if I catch ya again, you hear?" Sharp Shooting Joe's words were as cold as they were slick.

"I understand. You won't see me again. You take care Joe." Pickle Eyed Pete turned to walk off in the opposite direction of town.

"And Pete?"

"Yea?"

"I'm keeping this here contraption of yours. So don't even think about sending for it. Ain't nobody gonna get to listen to Sandstorm but me. You got it?" Sharp Shooting Joe raised his gun, getting his point across clearly.

"Yea, sure." Pickle Eyed Pete said as he walked off towards the tail end of a faraway sunset,  away from a town he'd never see again.

The dust settled quietly behind him.

WINGS Punishment

Prompt: Wings.

The rain beat down on the window loud enough to waken her. She wanted to sleep the day away, but the crackling of the sky had other plans for her. Anger didn't touch her as she emerged from a sleepy fog because though she liked to sleep,  she loved the rain.  When the sky cried, the people below it did too. Everyone except for Shimba. Grey skies meant grounded fairies. Grounded fairies are grumpy fairies. The rain puts everyone on Shimba's level, they could bear with her feelings for a few moments of time. She loved it.

Shimba hopped out of bed to dress and head into town. The bars would be nothing short of hopping and she didn't want to miss a minute of it.


"I don't know how you do it girl! I'm fricken mental right now. I haven't touched a cloud in what feels like days. This sucks." The evening shadow donned fairy yelled at Shimba, drunk on weevil blood.

"Byro, it's been raining for an hour. Sixty minutes. The womp you took in the toilet before the sky fell is probably still warm." Shimba rolled her eyes as she sipped on her cicada cocktail. The liquid danced through her veins in an attempt to warm her icy, hidden parts.

"Byro, do you...do you know what it's like to be me?" Shimba clenched her jaw.

"Miserable I'm willing to bet on that lot. Shimba, you're a fairy that can't fly. I mean, what's the point?" Byro's eyes filled with bewilderment.

"Are you asking me to justify my existence? Is that what we're doing right now? Mental you are." Shimba inhaled the remainder of her drink and slammed the glass down, shooting out of her seat. The anger inside her wiped out any semblance of drunk dizziness.

"Uh, Shimba, your tab?" said the bartender, uncertainty lining his voice.

"Byro's taking care of that tonight, aren't you mate?" Shimba glared at the fairy before giving him the finger and storming off.  Of course there was an audience and of course Shimba didn't care. She's had an audience her entire life.


The bathroom air reeked of unicorn urine and vomit. It was thick and charged, matching the atmosphere outside. The thunder rolled and the lights flickered, but Shimba didn't care. She tossed her sleek, lengthy, red hair and applied more bronzer to her mint green skin. The mirror was her friend today.

"Can I wash up or you going to be here all night?" a stranger's voice echoed into the room.

Shimba refrained from breaking her own gaze at the sound of his voice.

"I'm almost done. You'll survive. The rain's almost gone anyway" she said with the stroke of her makeup brush.

"Don't care about that, just wanna wash my hands." He said matter-of-factly, inching closer towards the fairy.

Shimba stopped touching up her face to take in the fella who she was finding to be quite peculiar. Shock dressed her face as her eyes landed upon a creature whose skin wasn't any variation of blue.

"Yea, yea, I know, I'm a fucking wizard...in the land of fairies...the last of my people for thousands of kilometers..." he rambled on, used to the reaction by now.

"I'm Shimba" she cut him off, outstretching her hand for a shake. A frown crept upon her when the wizard didn't partake in her gesture.

"Did you wash those?" he said, pointing towards her hands.

"I didn't have a tote or a womp in here, I'm just doing my makeup" Shimba's frown grew.

"I wouldn't care either way, you're in here, so you need to wash up" the wizard said, shaking his head.

Shimba's frown slowly flipped into a smile as she tossed her makeup into her satchel and washed her hands.

"Again, I'm Shimba. And you?" she took both his hands in for a shake.

"I'm Lemur. Shimba, you do realize your makeup isn't even on both sides?" Lemur scanned her face.

"Who cares?"

"Uh, I'm not sure, I couldn't name names, but..."

"Let's go drink Lemur" she giggled as she pulled him out of the bathroom.


"So let me get this straight, you're a fairy, that doesn't have wings?"

Shimba nodded.

"And a fucking vegetarian? In this economy?"

"Lemur, have you ever had buffalo cauliflower bites?"

"No, I can't imagine..."

"Lemur, you'd kill yourself for missing out for so long; they're delicious." Shimba took back her seventh shot of the hour, surpassing the bar maximum, but no one was there to stop her. The rain was gone and the fairies were in the sky.

"The combination sounds like it'll lead to a watery womp. I'm not here for it. I just can't. Why wouldn't I just eat actual buffalo wings? Hell, I could go for some right now" Lemur looked down at his hands, drawing Shimba's attention there as well.

"Lemur, would you like to make honey with me?" Shimba said, a sultry tone taking control of her breath.

"Uh, wha-What?"

"My flat is not far from here." Shimba licked her lips.

"You don't even know me."

"I know that you're a wizard who hasn't practiced magic, of all kinds, in...at least years. How long has it been, anyway?"

"Uh, two years, for uh, both." Lemur gulped.

"Hmm. You're a wizard who hasn't practiced magic in 2 years. You love peppermint because God, that's the only smell on you. And you're kind, I know it" Shimba smiled.

"You think I'm kind?"

Shimba nodded.


The pair spent hours making honey.

They were interrupted and brought back to the now by an aggressive knocking on the window. Too loud.

Shimba and Lemur erupted into a fit of giggles, stopping only to smile and caress each other.

"Well beautiful, I sure am hungry. Anything in your icebox you want me to cook for us?" Lemur asked, rubbing his exposed belly.

"Lemur?"

"Yea?" he said whilst tenderly dragging his finger up and down her forearm.

"Lemur, will you give me wings?"

"Shimba, I-"

"I want you to do it. Seriously. Like now. I've been so isolated all my life because I don't have wings on my back. I'm not seen as a true fairy, but I am. Could you help me Lemur?"

"Shimba, I don't think it's a good idea, I haven't done ma-"

"I want you to do it. Please" she pleaded as she stroked his shaggy beard.

"Okay...uh, stand up?"

"You asking or you telling wizard?" Shimba smirked.

"Well off you go, stand up!" Lemur laughed nervously.

Shimba smiled and turned around, her back facing the wizard. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Wings." she said, pointing towards her own back.

Seconds that felt like years passed before she felt a shift in her world. There was no pain, no discomfort, but there was definitely something different.

"Shimba?" Lemur's voice quivered.

"It's done yea? Ah, I'm so nervous!" Shimba's voice bounced.

"..."

"Lemur, how do I fly? Do I just think about flapping and it kind of just happens?"

"Uh, Shimba..."

"Lemur, do you smell that? What is that odour, is it buffalo sauce?" Shimba scrunched her nose.

"Shimba!" Lemur yelled, frightening his opposite.

"What's your problem man?" Shimba said, looking confused.

Lemur said nothing as he pointed towards the standing mirror on the other side of the room.

Shimba walked over to the mirror and the light that had visited her face just moments prior left quicker than it came.

"Oh for fuck's sake Lemur BUFFALO WINGS???!!! Are you mental?!" Shimba screamed.

"I-I..."

"Wings to fly Lemur! I'm a fucking fairy,! Fairies FLY, we're not fucking appetizers on a bar menu!"

"I'm sorry! I'm hungry as hell and I kept thinking about you and your buffalo cauliflower bites and how rad it would be to just actually have some real fucking buffalo wings. Shimba, I'm so sorry!" Lemur said, while smacking himself in the head repeatedly.

"Jesus. Lemur, just fix it. Just get rid of them, please." Shimba sighed, defeat lacing her voice.

"I can't" Lemur said, the matter-of-fact tone returning.

"Excuse me?"

"I can't take it back, that's now how magic works, especially not for me. Shimba, I was trying tell you, but you just pushed! I was banned from my village because I'm shit at wizadry." Lemur said as his eyes dropped to the floor.

"So what you're saying...is that I'm stuck with chicken wings attached to my back?"

"Well yea actually, that quite sums it up... Shimba, you're amazing and this, this just adds to you!" Lemur said as he waved his hands frantically.

"Fuck me. Well, I can't stay here, not another day. Lemur, let's runaway together, find our own land. A place where we can be different." Shimba said, her eyes widening.

"Okay."

"Yea?" Shimba smiled.

"Yea."

Although she was smiling, she couldn't stop the tears from flowing as she packed up her most important of things and prepared for the journey onto the next stage of her life. Lemur waited patiently, not wanting to step on her toes. Not wanting to touch things he wasn't sure he should touch. He leaned on the doorframe, watching the woman he was about to start his life with.

"Shimba?" Lemur said softly.

"Yea?"" Shimba wiped a tear from her eye.

"Do you think it'll hurt you if I took a little nibble?"

MK&A Pizza Punishment

Prompt: Mary-Kate & Ashley: Gimme Pizza


The diarrhea wouldn't stop.

Never in her life had Anah witnessed anything like this. Who knew that so much could be held within girls that were so tiny?


"Mary-Kate baby, are you almost done in there? I think your sister needs to go now," Anah said as she bumped her forehead against the closed door, resting it there for a moment. The sounds coming from inside the bathroom sent shudders throughout her being.

"Uh, can she go downstairs? This is a mans-" the snark in the 9 year old's voice was drowned out by the sounds that erupted from the other end of her body.

"I want...I want to die," Mary-Kate whimpered just loud enough for the babysitter to hear.

"MK can we cut with the dramatics for just one second, I'm gonna take Ashley downstairs," Anah said as she lifted the twin into the air and shuffled swiftly towards the staircase.

"Anah...Anah, I don't think I can hold it," Ashley whispered in the babysitter's ear whilst being carried down the steps.

"Oh for fuck's sake Ash, you gotta!" Anah picked up her pace, speeding by the life-size pictures of their parents who never made the time to be.

The pair was less than a handful of feet away from the bathroom when Anah felt a warm sensation on her arm where Ashley's hind end rested.

"Nossa senhora!" Anah howled as she gently dropped the girl onto the bathroom floor.

"Anah, Anah! I'm so sorry! I couldn't...I couldn't...I'm never eating marshmallows and Chinese food on pizza again!" Ashley cried out as she drug herself by her forearms to the toilet bowl.

"This is it. This is the last straw. I can't do it anymore. I won't. Tonight was supposed to end with all the snobby little rich moms picking up their terrible daughters from your ridiculous sleepover. Tonight was supposed to end with your selfish parents paying me my money. Tonight was supposed to end with some well needed, steamy Skype time with my boyfriend who I haven't seen in months because he decided to stay his ass in Brasil. But no. No. I'm stuck here. With you two and your poo. This ends now." Anah stormed out of the bathroom in search of the house phone.


Anah almost poked herself in the eye with the phone's antennae during the course of her frantic movements. The sound of seemingly endless ringing on the other line sparked a subtle rage inside her.

"Clue!" She screamed as she slammed the phone down into its receiver.

She smelled the Basset Hound before she saw him enter the room.

"Clue, you're a good boy. You're a smart boy. You're a kind boy. And I'm a nice lady, always giving you treats and what not. I need you to watch over the girls until their parents come home, okay?" Anah said, her voice detached and shaking.

Clue wagged his tail as he watched Anah walk out the door, never to return again.

"Okay," Clue said aloud just before sniffing his own fart.