mmmmmmmmmmm i like this thread....i like it good

>>49180>>49180

FFF TARZAN'S FACE

LOL UNTIL THE END OF TIME

>>49668
Oh wow.

No man fucks like Gaston

>>49703

More like no man fucks Gaston.

>>50190
No man fucks like Gaston
No man sucks like Gaston
No man tickles my balls, makes me scream like Gaston

>>50195
I'M ESPECIALLY GOOD AT EJAAAAACULAAAAAATING

>>49176

Huh. I think this was what my childhood me always wanted to see.

Let's get down to business, so spread your buns
Did you bring the lube and the flavored condoms?
That's the biggest cock I've ever seen
But you can bet, before we're through,

MISTER I'LL

MAKE A MAN

OUT OF YOU.

>>50328
I BLAME MULAN FOR MY LOVE OF GENDERFUCKERY.

I love this thread.

>>49262

You just had to bring it up, didn't you. My most shameful ship ever.

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1465446/1/Purp_Seed_Oil

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1190615/1/Old_Friends

I'm shocked to discover that this artist is still putting out TP fanart, since she started right after the movie came out, but more power to her: http://kaz320.deviantart.com/gallery/#Treasure-Planet

That's all I've got. I haven't been in that fandom since the year the movie came out.

>>50331

Ah, of course I forgot about paheal.

>>49262
incredible art and fic by an awesome transman whose dick I want to ride like pony.

http://yaoi.y-gallery.net/view/412061/

>>50332
lol are their faces pasted on?

>>50374
I think so.

>>49668

I think this is why that villian disurbed me on a suboncious level. My brain was totally thinking this in the backround to the cute musical numbers...

>>49374
>>49289
Here's a story from the kink meme, which is the whole reason I ship Pheobus/Clopin;


Clopin loved Mardi Gras. The Feast of Fools was fun, and he dearly loved being the conductor of such a fine circus, but Mardi Gras was a different sort of fun. He didn’t direct the festivities so openly, nor so personally. In fact, many of the attractions came from outside sources- different camps and carnivals brought their own amusements from outside the city, boasting exotic beasts, games and food. Clopin was only needed to make sure everyone respected their own boundaries, then vanished into the crowd.

This year, he dressed as Brighelle, complete with a plumed hat and the most expressively cruel mask he could find. Gathering his robes in one hand to seem as disaffect as possible, he strutted through the festivities, occasionally performing for the people if they asked him to.

At the wine stall, Clopin ran into Pheobus, who was wearing no costume but a golden mask pushed out of his face to drink his wine.

“Lo, behold the Captain of the Guards!” Clopin said, lifting his mask to wink at Pheobus.

“Brighelle, you blackguard,” Pheobus responded brightly, wrapping him in an overly-familiar hug. Drunk already, I see, Clopin thought to himself. He hid it so nicely. “Complete with a slapstick- you do take your costumes seriously,”

“One of us must, you frivolous youth,” Clopin said, twanging the hanging chin of Phoebus’ mask. “What have you done with your wife?”

“Esmerelda?” Pheobus asked, his face darkening. “Yes. She’s about,”

He fell silent.

“Ah, women are hard to contain,” Clopin said, looping and arm through Pheobus’ elbow. Then in Brighelle’s voice; “I have worried much for the women I keep,”

Pheobus snorted. “I have heard stories about the women you keep, M’sieur. They strike most people as being distinctly masculine,”

“Where did you hear that?” Clopin asked, stung. Pheobus himself seemed surprised to hear the accusation.

He did not respond to Clopin, choosing instead to sip from his wine.

Clopin continued, unheeded. “Your wife?”

“No!” Pheobus said, far too quickly. “I have heard it said… in passing. I am not one to judge sin,”

Clopin glanced back at Pheobus, wonder if the young man meant what he said the way it sounded. “I see,”

“May I say without offending you that you must be the skinniest Brighelle I’ve ever seen?”

“After a certain age, a man becomes tired of playing Harlequin,” Clopin explained. “Of course, my youthful physique has yet to reach that age. Still, a change of pace isn’t to be condemned,”

“No, certainly not. It is odd not to see you hopping around like a mad acrobat in the little purple pants, though,”

Before Clopin could wonder what that was supposed to mean, a drunkard staggered up to him and pointed a wine-stained finger in his face.

“Brighelle!”

“M’sieur, my name is not to be thrown about with such irreverence,” Clopin intoned. “It is to be respected, more so than yourself,”

>>50425

The man, having gotten the response he wanted, laughed and fell back into the crowd.

“How often had that happened today?” Pheobus asked.

“I haven’t kept track,” Clopin admitted. “So! Your wife has left you in my sinful hands, has she?”

Pheobus blushed, and took another swig of wine.

“I see,” Clopin said. He put his other hand on Pheobus’ elbow, leading him gently from the crowd. “Gyspy women are more spirited than French women, aren’t they?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Pheobus admitted.

“No?” Clopin said, not sure if he was surprised. “You’re a very handsome, confident man. What wouldn’t the women of France want with you?”

“I have been on the front since I was a boy,” Pheobus said. “I took the place of my General when he was killed in battle,”

Clopin nearly asked what a boy was doing on the war front before the answer occurred to him.

“Where did your General find you?” He asked instead.

“Following the company. I was too young to join, but he promised to keep me with him until I was old enough,”

“I’m sure you grew quickly under his care,” Clopin remarked.

“I would like to think so,” Pheobus said. “He trained me in armed combat for years,”

Clopin decided that he was uncomfortable with the turn this conversation was going, so drew it back to their combined interests. “Is that what produced the fine specimen of manhood we see before us?”

Pheobus blushed. “You mock me,”

“I do no such thing,” Clopin said.

“I think you do,”

“Why think? You know precisely when I’m mocking you, Captain, because I’m not the type to hide a good joke,”

“Please, call me Pheobus. Saying ‘Captain’ sounds like a joke,”

“If you insist,” Clopin said. “I can call you whatever you like, wherever you like. And I can call it quite loudly, you know. Some have said I’m quite operatic- an altissimo, said one aficionado,”

“I- what?”

“Well, he wasn’t in the position to call me a castrata,”

Pheobus gave him a glazed, wine-addle stare. Clopin raised his mask to frown at him.

“I hope the wine hasn’t dulled you too much,” Clopin said. “I don’t know what my sinful hands would do with themselves if you couldn’t rise to the occasion,”

Understanding finally cleared across Pheobus’ face.

“M’sieur Clopin,” He choked. “I am no longer a boy,”

>>50426
“Who ever said you were? Boys are instructed in swordplay, while men already know how to handle one. Sadly, I’m no solider, so I’ll ask you to direct the maneuvers from here on out,”

“No, you don’t understand,” Pheobus snapped. “I’m married,”

“I understand that very well,” Clopin asked. “Just as well as I understand what your wife doesn’t have,”

“No,” Pheobus said, working fruitlessly to untangle himself from Clopin’s arms. “I’m going to find my wife,”

Clopin spun him like a dance partner into a quiet alcove, away from the main street. He made a little prayer that no one would look out their window to see him feeling up the old Captain of the Guard anytime soon, and set to work pressing Pheobus against the wall.

“M’sieur Pheobus, your dedication to holy matrimony is touching. Really, it is! But the bonds that bind don’t touch as well as the human body, and we both know your wife is out dancing,” Clopin said. “Now, in response, I believe I suggested the opera,”

“You did,” Pheobus said. “Very eloquently. I believe I told you I was done with that nonsense,”

“Too true,” Clopin said. “But nonsense is never really done with you, which is why it’s best to avoid nonsense as often as possible,”

He dragged a nail along the sensitive sides of Pheobus’ neck.

“Stop that,” Pheobus said.

“Nonesense,” Clopin responded, tucking his knee between Pheobus’ legs. He was hardening already. He pulled the neck of Pheobus’ tunic down a touch and sucked at his collarbone. His breathe hitched against him.

“Clopin-“ Pheobus warned.

“It’s a pity you aren’t a boy anymore,” Clopin muttered, hands moving under Pheobus’ tunic. “Because there are things I could do that would make a boy sing like a castrata. There are parts of the body the boy hasn’t been familiarized with, yet. Moves and practices he hasn’t heard of, before,”

His thumb brushed across a nipple, which hardened.

“But no, you have to be a man, fresh from war and marriage. With men, I must become creative. The piano-maker can play his piano from the start, but the pianist must acquaint himself with the new tone of each instrument. The keys must be played, the pitch perfected. Men are much the same way. Some are out of tune, but the process of fixing them is pleasurable for everyone. Boys are alright, but I much prefer the men,” Clopin said, his hands sliding all around Pheobus’ body, marking the spaces that made his breathe quicken when his nimble fingers played across it.

His stomach was sensitive, so Clopin dived down to taste his navel. Pheobus bucked suddenly against him, and Clopin held his hips as he licked across his stomach. Then up he went, slowly circling a nipple as Pheobus’ breath came in heavy pants, hips jerking vainly.

He sucked one into his mouth and heard a quiet, strangled grunt. He pulled away.

“Something the matter, Pheobus?” He asked. Pheobus was flushed, incoherent. Poor boy.

“You look terrible. I think you ought to lie down,” Clopin said, tucking Pheobus back into his clothes. He pulled the sun mask down over his face, then took his hand like a child and led him through Paris. “Come along,”

>>50427

Clopin’s caravan was parked just outside the carnival. His horses were very glad to see him, straining against their tethers to nuzzle his face. He greeted them briefly, then lead Pheobus up the stairs, and inside.

“You have… lots of things,” Pheobus said slowly, looking around the packed caravan at the knickknacks and tchochkes Clopin had collected from his travels. Normally, Clopin would be very interested in showing Pheobus the many different toys and puppets he had brought from across the globe, but today he was focused. Instead, he took both of their hats, masks and jackets, tossed them somewhere, and lay Pheobus on the bed.

“Ooh,” Clopin said, delighted at the wall of muscle hidden under Pheobus’ tunic. “Scars,”

“Sabre,” Pheobus described, pointing. “Knife. Arrow,”

Clopin sucked the one on his shoulder. Pheobus grunted.

“Delicious,” He said. He licked Pheobus from ear to collar, trailing a line between his pecs, and then down to the front of his pants. “Are you still wearing your shoes?”

“Huh?” Pheobus said.

“Wearing shoes to bed is simply rude,” Clopin sighed. He pushed Pheobus’ boots off, then whipped off his pants. The little solider, unheeded by alcohol, sprang to attention.

“Are there scars down here, too?” Clopin asked, skimming his hands along Pheobus’ thighs. He ran his nails downwards and watched Pheobus shiver.

“I don’t remember,” Pheobus said.

“I had better check, then, shouldn’t I?” Clopin said, clambering down the bed to spread his knees apart. He started at the knee, kissing and licking from inside out. Pheobus sputtered, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Was that one?”

“Yes,” Pheobus said. Clopin nipped inside his thigh. “Yes. Yes, that’s the one,”

Clopin went slowly from knee to knee (“That’s one”), moving upward (“Oh god, yes,”) and punctuating the landscape with little bites (“Holy mother offfffu-“). Eventually, he ran out of leg, and reached the groin. Pheobus’ balls were tight, his dick straining against his stomach.

“Yes yes yes yes yes,” Pheobus whimpered.

“Really? Here?” Clopin asked, rolling a thumb from base to tip. “No scars from this angle. From the look of it, it could have broken a saber. At least, in the condition it’s in,”

“Yes,” Pheobus moaned.

“If you insist,” Clopin said. He brought the head forward, swiping a bubble of precome from the tip. “Doesn’t taste like a scar,”

Pheobus made a noise. It might have been an affirmation. Clopin swiped his tongue across and around, then swallowed the whole thing down. Pheobus gasped, a hint of a cry escaping. Clopin worked the shaft with his hand, laving the cock with his tongue and stretching the foreskin away. Pheobus shook against him.

When he began to make quiet, mewling noises, Clopin decided enough was enough. He sat up, wiped his chin, and went to his cupboards.

“What-“ Pheobus sputtered.

“Oh please, like I would forget about your saber,” Clopin said, waving away his concern. “I was worried it might need a little oil, that’s all,”

>>50428

He took his bottle of massage oil out of the cupboard and poured some on Pheobus’ chest. Normally, it was supposed to be heated, but he hadn’t had the time to prepare. Pheobus jolted when the cold liquid connected with flesh, then groaned when Clopin straddled his hips, working the oil into skin and muscle. He worked down, from the shoulders to his sides, focusing to stop himself from grinding on the cock pressed against his ass. Pheobus strained his hips upwards, seeking leverage, but Clopin was seated just far enough not to give him any friction.

Finally, the oil reached his thighs. Clopin moved away again, massaging first down, then up, covering the twitching cock from base to tip in the warmed, slippery liquid.

Pheobus grabbed him and dragged him into a kiss, ignoring his attempts to get up and finish what he’d started. Pheobus palmed a handful of his ass with one hand, and a smear of oil with the other. With Clopin’s erection pressed between their stomachs, he had all the leverage he needed to lift his hips, part his ass and push into the opening.

Clopin choked on a moan. “Somehow, I forgot you knew how to do this,”

“You have more tricks than I’m used to, but I’m not ignorant,” Pheobus admitted, working his finger deeper inside of him. Clopin shivered, fighting himself not to push back, biting back moans as Pheobus pressed the sensitive passage of his inner walls.

And then he reached the prostate. Clopin gave a very undignified yelp.

“Who was your reviewer? You don’t sound like an altissimo,”

“No need to strain at the start of the show,” Clopin gasped. He bucked and whined as Pheobus pushed a second finger inside. “One should always save the aria for last,”

“With a reputation like yours, I’m eager to hear it,” Pheobus said.

“If you keep doing that, the show will be much shorter than expected,” Clopin moaned, grinding away at Pheobus’ stomach. Pheobus lifted him away from the warmth of his chest, still fucking him open with his fingers. Clopin left a string of come across his stomach.

“You do really like this,” Pheobus remarked.

“I do, actually,” Clopin said, wrapping his fingers around Pheobus’ wrist and pulling him away. He lifted Pheobus’ knees and pushed himself onto Pheobus’ cock, whimpering. Pheobus guided him gently down until he’d been swallowed to the hilt.

Clopin stilled, shuddering, as he adjusted.

“Are you alright?” Pheobus asked. Clopin nodded. He was hot and tight around Pheobus, and he resisted the urge to thrust upward.

“You look far too worried for someone sharing my bed- why won’t you relax?” Clopin suggested, flicking Pheobus’ nose. He rolled his hips, and hissed. “If I were to judge only your expression, I’d think you were performing surgery instead of trying for a Bishop,”

“It’s been some time since my last biology lesson, but I believe a woman needs to be involved for the production of a Bishop,” Pheobus said.

“You were a solider less than an hour ago, now you’re training to be a doctor,” Clopin said, lifting himself on Pheobus’ knees and then pushing down again. “The sabre has become a scalpel,”

>>50429

“It’s been an educational experience,” Pheobus admitted, gripping Clopin’s hip to steady him. The gypsy gathered his knees beneath him to quicken his thrusts, bracing himself against Pheobus’ chest. Pheobus’ hips snapped forward, and the shock caused Clopin to cry out.

He clapped a hand across his mouth. Pheobus drove up again and heard a small gasp break free.

“I was promised an aria,” Pheobus reminded him.

“The devil take your aria,” Clopin moaned, grinding down on Pheobus’ cock. Pheobus dragged him into another kiss, rolling him onto his back.

“The devil takes too long,” Pheobus said. He spread Clopin’s legs and thrust deep inside of him, finally eliciting a groan.

“Varlet,” Clopin gasped. Pheobus pushed Clopin’s leg over his shoulder and pounded into him; the gasps became quicker and more ragged, culminating in soft cries.

Clopin reached up again to stifle the sounds, so Pheobus gathered his wrists in one hand and pushed them over his head. He bent his head and plowed into Clopin, surging towards completion.

“Ay, Santa Maria, la Madonna, nuestro madre de dios, el Senor Jesus Christ-” Clopin rattled off. “Please, touch me,”

“Blasphemy,” Pheobus groaned, wrapping his hand around Clopin’s dick. He spread his thumb across the head, and whatever Clopin tried to say in retaliation unraveled into whimpers.

“I’m about to come,” Pheobus squeaked.

“Yes,” Clopin moaned, bucking into Pheobus’ fist. “That’s fine,”

. Pheobus thrust hard inside the gypsy, and finally Clopin bent his head back and keened as he came in strings across his stomach. Pheobus was not far behind.

Clopin wrenched his wrists free and clapped both hands across his mouth. The gasps echoed in the hollow of his palms. Pheobus wrenched them apart.

“Pater hêmôn ho en toes ouranoes,” Clopin gasped. “Hagiasthêtô to onoma sou…”

“Prayers spoken in such circumstance will have you smote,” Pheobus mumbled.

“I think I have been smote,” Clopin said.

“You flatter me,”

“In the hopes of a repeat performance,” Clopin said, cocking an eyebrow. He looked remarkably like his own Brighelle mask, in the dim light.

“That reminds me,” Pheobus said. “Whatever amateur wrote your last review was an extremist- to a trained ear, you’re obviously a tenor,”

“At least I was in pitch,” Clopin said.

---

Done!

>>50430

YES. MORE PLEASE.

>>50430

You are the most amazing person ever! that was so fantastic! Thank you so much!

>>50430

UNF!! do want more of this pairing now.

>>50430

holy mother of god this was great.

This is also from the kink meme and has Pheobus and Clopin- also, Frollo. And rape. And torture.

-----
The dungeons where the gypsy men were kept was dark, cold and damp. It hadn’t felt so severe when they’d first brought them down, but now the group of men sat huddled together, slapping their arms for warmth.

Pheobus worked to remind himself it was just the dankness of the tunnels that made him feel the chill, and whenever he could convince himself of it, the cold would dissipate just a touch.

Clopin was the only one not sitting in the group- he spent hours pacing the cage, crawling on the floor and checking the walls for something, anything that would bring them deliverance. He had a burst of hope when he found a nail sticking up from the floor, but after digging it up, he found it too short to do anything but jam the lock. The gypsies told him not to be so hopeful- sit with them, pray, wait.

“I am not a waiting man,” Clopin responded.

Hours later, when exhaustion had sunk deep into Pheobus’ bones, the Judge came to collect him. His clasped fingers twitched in front of him, disapproval striking his features. Clopin and the Judge regarded on another as the soldier yanked Pheobus to his feet and shoved him through the prison doors.

“When will our turn come?” Clopin asked.

“You are all being tried as conspirators- it is the ringleaders who will be questioned,” Frollo responded. The bang of the bars as Clopin beat them in rage were all the answer they heard.

“Such fine men you associate with, Captain,” Frollo told Pheobus as he was dragged behind him. “Beastlike rage and cunning are all that defines them. Curiosity leads me to wonder how it is those people work, but repulsion stays my hand. Not so for you, is it?”

The soldier sat Pheobus in a chair, hands still chained behind his back. Frollo walked away from the thin circle of light, then returned with a paddle.

The wood whistled as it struck Pheobus full in the face. His teeth rung inside his cheeks.

“Is it?” Frollo asked. “What draws a man of such fine breeding towards these thieves and criminals? What insatiable desires causes man to debase himself beyond the forgiveness of society?”

Again the paddle struck, snapping Pheobus’ head to the other side. On the fourth blow, something broke, and he spat a mouthful of blood onto the pavement.

Frollo paused, waiting for him to speak.

“They don’t deserve the sins you assign them,” Pheobus gasped.

“Is that what they told you?” Frollo asked. Pheobus remained silent. Frollo again moved away from the circle of light.

“Ah, young Pheobus,” Frollo’s voice echoed around the chamber, lost in the gloom. “Such a promising life you once led- such a shameful end you’ve met,”

Above his head, Pheobus felt a leak- a slow, cold trickle of water touched his head and rolled down his back. He shivered.

“I want you to consider what’s left of your life- even in the happiest of scenarios, where the iron of this establishment opens in the name of your just cause, and all your little friends go filing out- where would you go? Who would take you in? What would you do?” Frollo asked, and the soldier walked out of the light, away from Pheobus. “Then, consider your chances. You’re already here, with me, and a much grimmer future is so fast becoming the present,”

Pheobus could only assume they had left him by the silence he now found himself in. His assigned meditations were hard to recall with the cold trickle of water running from scalp to neck, and the alarming chill which struck him whenever the water hit became unbearable. He tried to set his mind far away- he thought of the forest, fields of green stretching before him, but the water shocked him away from it.

Hours passed thus, trapped under the cold drip, and the gentle progression of water felt like a hammer on his scalp. Pheobus writhed under it, tried to bring his mind away, could not, threw himself from side to side to escape it, and then suddenly Frollo was back within the circle of light.

>>50598

“How was your night?” He asked, his voice as maddeningly deadpan as ever. “We have many things to discuss, you and I, and as much time as nessecary to talk about them,”

“You can admit to the crime of witchcraft and accept the Lord Jesus Christ as your Savior, or you can deny the charges and be tried to the full extent of the law,” Frollo explained. “I don’t wish to see you burn, Pheobus- please, come to the light,”

“At the moment, I am in the light, and you are in the dark,” Pheobus pointed out blearily. Frollo chuckled.

“Indeed. Let’s change that,”

He strolled away, leaving Pheobus trapped under the thrumming of water. Slowly, the gloom around him lifted as Frollo moved about the dungeon, lighting the torches surrounding them.

“Get me out from under this leak!” Pheobus shouted at Frollo.

“Hush, my child,” Frollo said. “The Lord will move you if your soul is pure,”

“Judge Frollo, you know I am a Christian man-“

“Do I?” Frollo asked. “Perhaps I have, and our idea of Christian behavior radically differs- consorting with thieves, trespassing on holy ground, and tampering in the dark arts- is that what one calls Christian on a battlefield”

“I have not tampered with anything,” Pheobus said.

“Say what you will. We are not here to ask for your confirmation of the facts; they simply are. I notice there is only one charge on your list which you defend yourself from. Is that the one that still awakens you at night? Is this the one which makes you curse your own foolish mistakes? Is this what weighs heaviest on your mind?”

“It isn’t true,” Pheobus roared, his skull throbbing and cold. “Take me out from under the faucet!”

The door to the dungeon opened, soundless on it’s well-oiled hinges, and Clopin was dropped onto the stone floor. He lay, shuddering, his hands chained behind his back.

“Ah! My dear M’sieur Trouillefou, how kind of you to join us- or shall I call you Your Majesty?” Frollo asked.

Through the blearing of his eyes, Pheobus could see that Clopin had been whipped. His back was a mass of welts and blood. Frollo took him by the hair and pulled him upright.

“Unconscious!” Frollo noted. “They must have beat him harder than they meant to. I see he has bitten through his lip- he must have tried to keep himself from screaming,”

Frollo moved Pheobus from under the faucet, and lay Clopin there, instead. Again, he walked away from them, and as Pheobus’ vision began to clear, color came back to Clopin’s cheeks; slowly his eyes opened. His expression set, his eyes darted around the chamber to find something to settle on. At last, they found Pheobus.

Nothing in his face gave a hint to his thoughts.

“Good evening, M’sieur Trouillefou,” Frollo greeted. “How have you found your accommodations in the Palace of Justice?”

“I expect to see the landlady Liberty in the morning,” Clopin said. “We two must have a word,”

“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible- her sister, Justice, is expecting to see you,” Frollo said. He walked back into Pheobus’ field of vision with a collar, bearing two forks pointed out. He gestured to Clopin as a lecturer would direct attention to the board in class.

>>50599

“I have been expecting M’sieur Clopin for quite some time now,” Frollo said, patting the gypsy’s cheek. “Our King of the Truands has quite a long history, and all of his deeds have some punishment assigned them. Unfortunately, I can’t prove his connection to all of them, so clever is our friend, and we haven’t got the time to go through them all, anyway. Rest assured, old friend, God has seen all- even the crimes you commit outside our fair city, across France, and he will punish the wicked,”

Clopin stared up at Frollo, his expression dead, as the collar was fitted around his neck. One fork kept his chin propped up- the other pushed into his chest. His posture, now, was impeccable.

“Come now, my friend- and we must be friends, for the long game of chess the two of us have played could only be endured between friends- you must have something to say to me. You must have a reason behind all your crimes. I’m curious- what will you tell St. Peter when he brings you to the library of your sins?”

“God knows the trials He put me through,” Clopin said. “Laying down to die may have been the noble thing to do, but one’s life is not easy to forfeit,”

Frollo laughed. “You see, Pheobus, an honest job with an honest wife is too cruel a fate for him to consider, even within his darkest hour,”

“I am Romani,” Clopin said. “We ask for much less than most Parisians can live on, and sometimes we live on less than even that,”

“Explain to our young friend Pheobus how the act of sodomy fits into the many trials and tribulations the Holy Father our Lord God has so unjustly punished you with,” Frollo suggested. Again, Clopin’s expressive and entertaining face died, a cold mask across his features. “Has he not yet been informed of your carnal habits? This is unexpected!”

Frollo moved to Pheobus. “Did you align yourself with a man you did not fully understand? Perhaps your sins are not your responsibility- Clopin has convinced men your age to do much worse. Perhaps he gave you excuses- perhaps he did not explain in full the consequences of your actions,”

“Perhaps M’sieur the Captain is a featherheaded soldier who dropped into my nest by accident,” Clopin spoke. Frollo whirled around and struck him with his fist, down onto the fork in his neck.

“Hold your tongue, or I will salt your wounds,” Frollo hissed. “Rest assured, you will be punished for your crimes- but the people of Paris must be assured that they are safe from your people. What better way than to hang you for everyone to see from the town galleys? You will be an example of French might, and that is why you will live to see the trial,”

Again, Frollo moved to the shadows, and again he appeared before the both of them.

“You, Clopin, as King of the Gyspies, receive preferential treatment- most sodomites are asked to ingest this,” Frollo explained, holding up a spiked iron pear. He twisted the handle, and it sprung open like a steel flower. “Sadly, I have been robbed of the privilege of delivering it to you,”

“This seems like a very roundabout way to ask to stick things up my-“ Clopin began, and Frollo struck, bludgeoning him with the rusted, spiked and stinking pear in his hand. He beat him until the twitching stopped, then fetched from the shadows a vial of salt water, which he poured onto the deep scrapes in his back. Clopin gave a hollow, high scream.

“Alas, Pheobus! This exercise has taken up the better part of my week. Do you know how long you have been here?”

“Days,” Pheobus said.

“Yes, it has been days,” Frollo said. “I grow weary of the practice- won’t you show pity on me, on the gypsy, on the guards of your tomb, and confess?”

>>50600

“To what?” Pheobus asked.

“It is a pity,” Frollo said. “We shall wait here- wake up, Clopin, and say goodbye to the boy,”

The guard came and removed Pheobus from the chair. They did not go far- only down to the hallway, where the prisoners were whipped. There, Pheobus’ arms were hooked to the wall, and a stripe of skin was removed with the crack of the whip.

“What count?” The guard asked.

“One,” Pheobus managed to choke out. Another line of skin was drawn from his back, the pain, like lightning, leaving a scar across his vision. “Two,”

The whip was spiked, leaving a bite with the slash of the hide. When he missed count, the guard would turn him over and drive a wedge under his nails.

Hours passed. Pheobus’ back ran red with blood, his fingers mutilated, sobbing for forgiveness. He stood trembling at the wall, waiting for the sixtieth blow, when the guard took him off the hook, wrenched the wedges from his fingers, and brought him back to the dungeon, where Clopin and Frollo were waiting.

Clopin was still seated on the floor, his face up, his red, exhausted eyes seething with hatred at the judge.

“Look, Pheobus,” Frollo said, gesturing to Clopin. “The gypsy has learned to stay silent. Now if only we could teach him to bark like a dog and fetch sticks, he might be of some use,”

Frollo laughed. Clopin was silent. Pheobus was sat back in his chair, his head swimming from the rush. He could hear Frollo speaking, but not the words themselves.

A light shined in his eyes.

A searing pain leaked down his back, dead flesh rolling away as the liquid bore into his skin. He writhed, muscles in his back jerking against his flesh.

“I was wondering if you were still with us,” Frollo muttered, setting aside the vial of salt water. “There we are- all together again. As I was saying- the guards tell me you still won’t speak. This is very poor behavior, Pheobus. A good Christian man would not keep information from his friends,”

“I have no information,” Pheobus said.

“Your will is iron, boy, but your body is not. Forgiveness is the word of Christ- repent,”

“I have done nothing wrong,” Pheobus said. He was set on his feet and moved.

His arms were tied before him, his shoulders near his ears. The judge clamped iron on his fingers and twisted a gear, and Pheobus watched a stream of blood leak from his missing fingernails.

The judge removed himself, again applying the salt onto his back. The pain flashed across his spine, then down his shoulders and speared his fingers.

He screamed.

The screw twisted again, the iron biting down into the brittle bones in his fingers, veins and flesh squeezing like a boil preparing to burst.

“M’sieur Pheobus, the Captain, I beseech you once more- repent. Confess. Give in to the light of the Lord, and you will be spared. Look at your hands, M’sieur- I don’t know how much more they will take. One twist or two, the screw with destroy them. Such good hands, look at them, Captain. You will never again hold the reins of your horse or the handle of your sword. You won’t feel anything when you run them through a woman’s hair, or touch a fine brocade,”

Pheobus’ lungs shook inside his chest- he was sobbing, he realized.

“What did you say, M’sieur?” Frollo asked. Pheobus’ lips moved- he felt the air on his tongue, the muscles in his cheek twitch.

“I did not hear you. Once again, please,”

“I confess!”

Frollo spun on his heel.

“Did you hear me?” Clopin shouted. “I confess! It was all my idea! I have done it all!”

Frollo reached Clopin in two strides.

“I beg your pardon?” He asked.

“The entire operation- the burglary, the blasphemy, the witchcraft- it was my idea,” Clopin said. “M’sieur the Captain was a fingerpuppet in the game. He was a pawn. You have beaten a scapegoat,”

Frollo laughed. “Are these the great tricks of the King of the Gypsies?”

“Burglary, witchcraft and blasphemy, you mean?” Clopin asked innocently. “They are!”

>>50601

Frollo grabbed Clopin’s face and threw him towards a wall. “I should take your lying tongue and melt it from your mouth! What would you do without it, I wonder? Bulk up and die from the unspoken poison of your words?”

Frollo struck Clopin, lashing out with fists, feet and club.

“Blackguard! Sodomite!” Frollo shrieked. “How dare you mock me!”

Frollo propped him up against the wall.

“No, no no,” Frollo said, patting Clopin’s cheeks to keep him awake. “Now is not the time to catch the vapors. I want you to watch, and observe- the fruit of your labor, the product of your perversion,”

Frollo was upon Pheobus before he knew what was happening. He felt him stroke his flanks, fingers crawling across his thighs like spiders looking for prey.

“Such a fine specimen to place your affections- my compliments, Majesty,” Frollo said. He released the screw entrapping Pheobus’ fingers- as soon as they were free, he curled in on himself in relief. Frollo straightened his legs, and with the spit from his mouth greased Pheobus just enough for penetration.

Pheobus stood, bent over the stocks he had been locked in, curled protectively around his bleeding fingers, as Frollo took the last of his dignity. He was dimly aware of the discomfort, of long fingers pulling at his hair and nails digging into the cuts across his back. He was aware of Clopin watching, struck dumb with fear and repulsion, as Frollo came, pulled Pheobus’ trousers back over his knees, and chained his wrists back behind his back.

“The Gypsy has repented,” Frollo told the guard.

They were taken back to their cells. Pheobus walked to the back and sat hunched in the corner, staring at the splits in his nails and the purple tips of his swollen fingers. Capallaries and veins had burst deep in the tissue of his twisted hands- they had been a soldier’s hands this morning.

Long, spindly fingers wrapped around his shoulders. He thrashed in their grip, trying to beat away the image of the Judge gripping him, grinding into him, beating him-

And then he heard the voice the hands introduced. “Water! Whatever you haven’t drank from your supper, bring it here!”

The gypsies handed Clopin the jug, with half a pint still sloshing in the bottom. He looked inside and tutted.

“This is very bad- we will need more. Bother the guards!”

They had been given back their shirts and jackets. Clopin daubed Pheobus’ wounds with his shirt and the water, forcing him to drink from the pitcher. Pheobus tried to shy away, but Clopin dragged him back. His hands were wrapped in his own shirt, tied together as if he were praying.

“Ay, look at what they have done, the barbarians,” Clopin muttered to himself, fussing over the cut in Pheobus’ lip. “And they call me a cutthroat for hanging intruders when they saunter into my home!”

When Pheobus was cleaned at last, he turned from Clopin. His jacket was spread across his back- he was warmer, now. And if he was not warm enough, then he would freeze in his sleep. It didn’t matter to him.

“Pheobus?” Clopin asked.

“Pheobus,” Clopin called.

“What’s the matter with him?” A little, childlike voice asked. Pheobus stiffened, wondering what new madness had been brought to torture him.

“Nothing’s wrong with him, child. He’s only very, very tired,”

“He looks hurt,” The little voice squeaked.

>>50602

“He is hurt,” Clopin replied.

“Excuse me, Monsieur!” The little voice peeped out.

“Don’t bother him, boy,” Clopin scolded, but Pheobus’ curiosity got the better of him, and he turned his head just enough to catch sight of the puppet from the corner of his eye. Clopin had spirited him up a sleeve when he was arrested, and the guards had left it with him, for lack of anything better to do with it. The puppet’s bells tinkled as it cocked it’s head at him, and gave him the same little embroidered smile it gave everything in life. Pheobus glanced at Clopin, his face heavy and drawn with lines, his bare chest and throat bleeding from the rust of the fork. He fixed his eyes to the puppet.

“Are you alright?” The little puppet asked.

“Hush,” Clopin snapped, slapping the puppet for it’s insolence. “The Captain is too tired to answer silly questions,”

“What happened?” The puppet asked.

“Monsters, boy,” Clopin said. “They can snatch even the best of men and take them to their nest to be devoured,”

“Did you escape?” The puppet asked.

“Yes, we did,” Clopin said. “For now. The monster will return, but monsters are only beasts- once you’ve learned their habits, they cease to be frightening,”

“Monsters are scary!” The puppet said.

“Only if you let them, boy,” Clopin said. “There are monsters all across the world, you know. If you let monsters scare you, there’s nowhere to go but back to bed,”

“How would you know?” The little puppet asked, hands defiantly on it’s hips.

“I have seen them,” Clopin said. He broke his narration to wipe fitfully at his eyes. “And I have seen moments of human strength that would make the Gods themselves gape in awe. Men always overcome monsters, even if someone must die in order for it to happen,”

“Like when?” The puppet asked.

“Haven’t I ever told you the story of Hansel and Gretel?” Clopin asked.

“Those names are funny,”

“They’re German, child, as is the tale,” Clopin said. “Although I heard it from an Italian- odd, isn’t it?”

“There are monsters in Germany?” The puppet squeaked.

“Oh, yes,” Clopin said. “But it is up to you to decide who is the monster- the parents, the children, or the terrible witch,”

You are mad, Pheobus thought as Clopin told his tale. The children spread their breadcrumbs, the witch was lost to the fire, and Clopin spoke to the doll as if every interruptions were a surprise to him. If it was madness, then so be it- the tales Clopin told, which varied in both size and country, kept him warm that night, and the next night, as they lay in their cells and waited to be hung.

------
Annnnddd done. Does anyone else have slash fic with Clopin? These two are literally the only ones I can find on all the intertubes.
And that makes me sad.

appropriate?

>>50603
Fffff that was amazing.

>>50603

there's one on adultfanfiction: http://movies.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600093627

Guys

Guys


LOOK!

Does anyone have anymore Ron x Jake, please?

/r/ing Clopin/Facilier.

God, that would be epic.

YOU JUST BLEW MY FUCKING MIND.

>>51364
Well theres this. It's updating, but its not gone anywhere sexual yet.

http://community.livejournal.com/disney_kink/361.html?thread=81001

Holy fuck - bump.

So is anyone going to post the three Road to El Dorado pics that are relevant to our interests?

The Road to El Dorado is not Disney...