#when i start pages i will jus post em as i go so uh

[zrllosyn]

I need to go to bed but i am going insane about this gbf twins au comic im drawing

the twins

my djeets

they are

they are so character

[artnerd1123]

A Familiar World

Bewitched ——————————————-

The adventures of Theodore continue. Figuring out how he feels about what he saw in town is... well. Difficult. But he’s gotta make a decision sometime. Featuring fun times with his siblings and a not-so-fun time with his parents. 

The masterpost for AFW can be found here. The chapter post for AFW can be found here.

——————————————-

i am once again cutting chapters up, but that’s ok!!! i’m having fun and getting to write these dynamics is rlly interesting! hopefully the next one’ll be a lil shorter, but we’ll see X] in the meantime, here’s this!

and uh, warning for journal getting into a fight with his parents (nothing physical, but there’s some gaslighting to be mindful of) 

The sun shone brightly down on the farm, a light breeze rustling the remains of cornstalks in the field. The wagon- still half full of harvest- was parked next to the barn. A thick cloth blanket kept its cargo protected from the elements. At least, mostly. The horses in the nearby pasture eyed the visible corn wistfully. But besides the horses, crops, and breeze, not much was moving outside. The morning chores were long done. Now was the time for relaxing and play. From the giggling and shouting from the barn, a certain group of siblings was taking advantage of that. Up in the hayloft, Theodore and his younger siblings were fooling around. The twins were wrestling in the loose hay, and Elise was busy trying to climb up one of the support beams. Theodore had draped himself across another beam, square over the middle of the loft. His eyes flicked cautiously towards the edge every so often- but he’d be ok. He’d fallen and tumbled into the hay enough to know it would catch him much gentler than the barn’s dirt floor. He had other things to focus on at the moment, anyway. A beat up journal sat in front of him, chock full of loose papers and ink-stained scraps. They stuck out the sides and from under the cover. With all the story ideas, memories, and thoughts crammed into it, it was a wonder the book was still together. He’d have to get a new one soon. But for now, his quill scratched away at the page before him. He’d been working hard on recording every detail he could about the other day’s encounter. He felt as if he’d seen something precious- something more astounding than any legend- and he refused to let it slip from his mind. Writing this down needed his undivided attention. Of course, his siblings thought otherwise. “Hey, Theo! Y’all gonna come down from there?” Nilo called, arm locked around Tyler’s neck. Tyler squirmed and pushed at him playfully. “I think Tyler could use yer help!” “Naw, I do not! Yer about ta need ‘em though!” Tyler snickered. With a sudden jerk, the boy threw himself against the hay, sending Nilo toppling over his shoulder. The two laughed and jeered as they scrambled around, but Theodore didn’t pay them much mind. “Mmh, yea, uh, jus a sec,” he mumbled, eyes scanning over his work. He felt like he’d gotten the stranger’s routine written out ok. But he just couldn’t capture the strange smoke they’d been messing with. Not smoke, his mind muttered, magic. The word sent a zing down to his fingertips. He couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. Last week, he would’ve firmly said bad. But now, he just… wasn’t sure. It honestly felt more like a thrill. As if he were staring down a wolf, but it was crouched and wagging like a playful dog. Oh, good simile, he thought, hastily scribbling it in the journal’s margins, I’ll have to use that somewhere later. He propped himself up on his elbows, glancing over the page. Almost full… would he have to cordon off a whole new section of his personal records for this? He wouldn’t mind, it was just… well, buying new ones could get expensive… A voice behind him knocked him out of his thoughts. “Hey, earth ta’ scribbles! Y’all alive?!” Theodore pulled a face- scribbles??? What???- glancing around for the offending speaker. Elise sat on a beam across from him, kicking her legs. Her smirk and little giggles confirmed it had been her. Theodore stared at her for a minute. “... what did y’all jus call me?” he asked. “Scribbles,” Elise snickered, “y’all like it?” “Aw- hell no,” Theodore snorted, shaking his head. He set his quill down, shifting to face her better. “Awful. Try again, lil lady.” “Well y’all weren’t answerin to theo!” she huffed. “Or theodore!” Tyler piped up from below him. Nilo nodded, picking bits of hay out of his hair. “Or anythin’ el- AUGH-” Whatever else he was going to say got lost as Tyler tackled him into the hay again. Theodore and Elise just exchanged a look. “If y’all’re gonna call me a nickname, call me somethin else,” he said. “Scribbles? C’mon, y’all can do better’n that.” “Hmm… m’kay,” Elise nodded slowly. “I think I got a couple ideas…” The corners of her mouth twitched mischievously. Theodore knew that look. Oh boy. How big of a mistake did I jus make? “How ‘booout… inky?” She said, blinking innocently as he tried not to smile. “Elise, tha’s even worse!” he replied. “Mmm alphabet soup?” she smirked. “Oh- revaew no-” Theodore guffawed, shaking his head. “Awful. Try again.” “Ah, I got it!” Elise clapped her hands together, grin as wide as a river. “Quillface!” Such was the name that broke Theodore’s composure. He lost it, clinging tightly to the beam below him to stop from falling off. Oh Revaew- yeah, he’d made a mistake alright. Nilo and Tyler quit tussling in confusion. Through teary eyes, Theodore could see them look to Elise for explanation. He couldn’t manage to get out more than a few wheezing “no, don’t-”s before her haughty grin passed its verdict. “Theodore’s new nickname is quillface,” she declared proudly. “QUILLFACE?!” Tyler shrieked, his shrilly voice dissolving into giggles. Nilo wasn’t too far behind, cracking a delighted smile. “I think it fits!” Nilo beamed. “It’s an attention grabber if I ever heard one!” “We- we oughta tell dean ‘n carrie-” Tyler wheezed. “Oh, of course! Everyone’s gotta know about Theo’s new name!” Elise grinned. “ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Theodore squawked, sputtering between bouts of laughter. He waved a hand to gather their attention, doing his best to breathe through his cackling. “Y’all are not gonna call me quillface, good revaew-” “Then what’dya want us to call you, huh?” Tyler teased. “Y’all gotta give us somethin to work with,” Nilo said. “I gave ya plenty’a options!” Elise chimed in, crossing her arms in mock offense. “Listen- y’all want a nickname? Fine, fine,” Theodore sighed. “Y’all can call me… uhh…” He glanced around for a moment. His eyes fell on his record book. He’d been needing a pseudonym for awhile now. And he… did like the idea of a writer-esque name mashed with “Drapht.” Something with a nice ring to it. Something like… He snapped, a bright grin rising to his face. “Journal!” he hummed, “y’all can call me journal.” “Journal?” Elise echoed, blinking. “... i mean, y’all were writin in that thing all mornin,” Nilo said. “And y’all’re what ya do, I guess,” Tyler shrugged. “Guess we should call you two punchy ‘n kicks then, eh? With all’a’y’all’s horseplay?” Theodore joked. The twins both clamored to protest, missing the obvious irony in the fact that they were still somewhat tangled up in the hay. And how they proved the point by dissolving back into tussling. Theodore settled back down on his beam, one foot dangling lazily. Yeah. That was about right. He reached for his quill, shifting to face his records once again. “Aw- c’mon, Theo! We wanna play!” Elise whined. He glanced over at her, a brow raised. “I’m here, ain’t I? I’m busy!” “Busy bein boring. What’re y’all writin in there thas’ so important anyway?” Elise huffed. Theodore opened his mouth to retort, but the words died in his throat. Wait. Could he tell them what happened the other day? Should he tell them? His parents hadn’t said no, but… well… “... Journal? Hellooooo?” Elise called, waving a hand. He blinked, shaking himself back to reality. “What was that? Y’all keepin secrets?” “Uh- not- not exactly-” he stammered, trying to cover his tracks. But his smile was lopsided, and his jerky movements too obvious. Elise’s eyes glimmered eagerly. “Ohoho… y’all’re keepin secrets,” she grinned. “Elise- no-” “Nilo!!! Tyler!!! Yer brother’s keepin secrets!!!” she cackled. The twins looked up immediately, perked up like coyotes in a chicken coop. Oh revaew. With the three of them staring him down, he really had no choice. “... well… uh… oh, fine,” Theodore sighed. “Jus keep it quiet, m’kay?” “O’course.” “Wouldn’t think otherwise!” “Y’all can count on it.” “Ok, good.” Theodore glanced towards the barn doors. No movement. No sound. Just the breeze and the sun beating down on the dirt. When he looked back to his siblings, they were busy nudging and giggling at each other, eager as ever for storytime. Alright. Yeah. This was ok. Shifting to sit upright, he clapped his hands together. They all sat to attention, eyes gleaming and gazes fixed on him. “... so… y’all remember the other day we were at town? An’ we had to leave early?” Theodore started. When he got a nod, he continued. “Well, somethin’ happened at the town outskirts ta’ make ma ‘n pa freak out so bad. And I was there. Y’see, there was a stranger who blew in, an’ they were doin somethin’ real interestin at the edge’a town...”

~~~

The sun had moved across the sky, almost right atop the barn, before movement reigned again. The twins burst out of the barn with fistfuls of hay, shouting as they tossed them at each other. Theodore was still up in the hayloft with Elise- she was having trouble getting down from the beam. Theodore tucked his journal into its little nook in the wall, setting the loose boards back into place. Elise was still chattering about his story as he turned towards a pile of bales. “-and mom jus yanked ya all the way back ta the cart?” she was asking, eyes wide. “Mhm,” Theodore nodded. He grunted as he tugged a bale of hay over. Scrambling on top of it, he reached up for his sister’s hands. “She was madder’n a trampled rattler. ‘M really not sure why, though. The stranger wasn’ hurtin nobody.” “Yeah, but… they were a magic user,” Elise said hesitantly. “Ma ‘n pa said they’re bad, right?” She shimmied her way down into Theodore’s arms. He let out a soft “oof” as she dropped, but he got her to hit the hay softly. “That… yeah, that’s what they say,” Theodore admitted. “... just… I dunno. I don’t think somethin so intricate ‘n beautiful could be that bad. Ma ‘n pa didn’ say people could do stuff like th’ stranger did with magic. They jus said it’ll make ya inta a lazy monster. I doubt someone lazy would be doin alla those flips.” “And yer sure ya didn’ see any claws or fangs?” Elise asked. He nodded without a thought. “I didn’ see nothin,” he assured her. “But- well, we don’ need to think too hard about it. They’re gone now. I jus thought it was neat.” “Fair ‘nuff,” Elise shrugged. She grabbed a fistful of hay on her way towards the ladder, humming happily to herself. Theodore followed after her, waiting at the top as she climbed down. She looked up at him once her feet hit the floor. “Y’all better hurry down ‘re yer gonna miss the fun this time!” she hollered, waving her handful of hay. Theodore laughed, carefully maneuvering himself over the ladder. “I will, I will! Jus gimme a minute!” he called back. “Scaredy cat!!!” Elise jeered. “Y’all wouldn’ say that if ya fell off the loft like I have!” he shot back. Taking a breath, he stuck one leg off the loft, feeling for the ladder. He didn’t move again until he had a good foothold. He slid himself down to get his hands around the sides, grabbing on tight as his other foot fumbled for the wooden slats. Only once his whole weight was held did he exhale. He sat there for a second just to make sure. Good. Ok. He was ok. Now he just had to scurry on down. All was going well until a sharp voice cut through the cheerful laughs outside. Theodore didn’t notice it at first. He was too busy lowering foot after foot, hand after hand, not wanting to take his eyes off the ladder. Almost down, almost down. He had this. Or, he thought he did. “THEODORE SHERMAN DRAPHT!” The name- his name- was bellowed loud enough to snatch his attention away from the ladder. His head whipped up, body tensing up enough to jerk his grip off of the wood. For one terrifying second, gravity seemed to drag his body away. Theodore’s hands shot out like lightning, snatching the wood so hard he knew he’d given himself splinters. But he didn’t care. He was too busy wondering what he’d done. He glanced skittishly toward the barn doors. A shadow darkened them, hands settled on hips, shoulders hiked up and tense. He knew that pose. Just like he knew the shout that followed it. “THEODORE, GET OUT HERE THIS INSTANT!” Ah. His mother. Theodore felt his stomach settling like a rock in the sea as he hurriedly finished his descent. Oh revaew. What happened now?

Theodore stood in his parents’ room, spine straight and hands clasped behind his back. His shoulders were squared, and he dared not reach his twitching fingers up to smooth his hair down. Even if the rather rough trip in here skewed it all over. And sorting it out would soothe him. He couldn’t move. His father’s disapproving gaze was more paralyzing than any snakebite. That, and he was just trying to last in the burning fury of his mother’s berating. “-came out to see Tyler and Nilo throwing hay at each other with some- some- dirty sorcerer’s words- trying to practice magic on my farm-” she was spitting, gaze searing as a brand. He squirmed a bit, doing his best to keep his eyes on her. It was hard. His gaze flitted across the room every time her voice raised. And when she was angry, she always spoke loud. He waited until she took a breath to pipe up. “I’m- I’m sorry, ma,” he tried, “I didn’ think it’d be a big deal-” “Of course you didn’t,” his mother snapped. “You don’t think about anything.” He winced at that, unable to keep his gaze from skittering to the floorboards. That’s- that wasn’t true. He did think. He’d dithered over telling his siblings for at least a day or two. Even now, he’d only told when they found him out. His fists clenched as his mother continued. “What have we told you about how dangerous magic is?! About how not to let it spread?!” “I- y’all said it’s bad fer us,” he mumbled, “bad fer everyone, a-an we should stay away.” “Exactly. An’ that shoulda been the end of it,” his mother snarled. “So why in the hell were y’all tellin yer siblings about what y’all saw in town?!” “I- it didn’- I jus- they- w-we were jus-” “What’ve we told you about thinking your sentences through before you speak?” his father sighed. Theodore clamped his mouth shut. Think, don’t just stammer, y’all oughta know better, he chided himself. He took a shaky breath, trying not to focus on how his mother’s foot tapped, and his father’s fingers drummed. Eventually, he forced his eyes to meet theirs again. “It… It didn’ look like magic t’me,” he explained slowly. “There was nothin threatenin. I didn’ even realize it was magic till the stranger said so.” “You… didn’t realize it was magic?” his mother echoed, disbelief dripping off her tongue. “N-no, ma’am,” he mumbled. He felt his cheeks grow hot as she scoffed. “Like- Like I said, I didn’ see anythin scary, ‘er any’a the stuff you’n pa said to look out for.” No darkness. No laziness. No monsters. No traps or snares or brambles. Nothing like what they’d been drilling into him since he could crawl. Just someone having fun flipping around and making towers of golden smoke. Which, yeah, that was magic. He believed it. But why in Revaew’s wide world did their description of “magic” not line up? Not one thing they’d told him to sniff out magic had helped him in town. It wasn’t even remotely scary. What right did they have to drag him from a danger that wasn’t even there? A thought popped hastily into his head. It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. “Have y’all even seen magic for yerselves, anyway?” Theodore’s hand ached to swipe up and cover his mouth. He wanted those words back. He wanted them back now. It was a good question- the right question- but with the way his parents’ faces flickered from incredulous to outraged... Shit. He needed to watch himself. “Have we- have we ever- ever seen-” his mother sputtered. “Theodore, that’s not your place to ask,” his father said harshly. “We’d know magic when we see it. It looks like what we’ve told you. End of story.” “But- but that’s not what I saw!” Theodore blurted. He cursed himself again, but he needed the words out. “I saw somethin’ that was pretty ‘n careful ‘n delicate, nothin like lazy destruction or evil monsters! Y’all- y’all saw what they did too, magic isn’t like that!” “It is like that, and it is what happened in town,” his father insisted, scowl deepening. “You were there, Debora. You saw it yourself.” “I did,” she nodded, “and it was jus as nasty as I thought. The sorcerer musta done somethin to our eyes so it seemed different, that’s all.” Theodore’s train of thought hit a snag in the tracks. Wait. Their eyes? What? Where did that factor in? They were just doin’ smoky tower magic, nothin happened to our eyes. They didn’ even do magic in our direction. He opened his mouth to protest, but his mother cut him off. “Revaew, look at em- that daggum filthy wizard has- has bewitched our son,” she spat. She swept her hand in his direction, earning a flinch and a step back. “He ain’t seein any sense! What’re we gonna do with ‘em?!” “... give him time, Debora,” his father said. “Spells don’t last forever.” He hadn’t moved, arms still crossed and gaze still harsh. But there was a menacing glimmer in his eye. The second he saw it mirrored in his mother, he felt as if the room became an icebox. A beat of silence passed. Theodore swallowed down more words that bubbled up, watching as his parents exchanged a look. He stood stock still and quiet. If you asked him later, he’d say he could swear he felt frost climbing up his legs. “... y’all’re not ta speak of magic again,” his mother finally said. “Not so long as y’all live in this house.” “Not to your siblings, your friends, yourself, anyone,” his father added. “Magic- all magic- is a curse. If we see y’all spreadin around that sorcerer’s hex again, yer gonna be worse than grounded,” his mother said curtly. “Understood?” Though his mind churned and bucked, crying mutiny and injustice, Theodore forced himself to nod. “Ya swear it?” his mother pressed. “I… I-I swear it,” Theodore choked out. As the words left him, the tension in his father’s shoulders eased, and his mother’s brow smoothed. Approval at last. He tried to ignore the frozen bile in the back of his throat. “We gotta talk to yer siblings still, but yer free ta go,” his mother said. “Remember what we talked about, Theodore,” his father warned. “I... I will, pa. Don’ worry,” Theodore mumbled. He couldn’t leave the room fast enough.

Nilo, Tyler, and Elise all stood against the wall in the hallway. Though their faces begged for reassurance, he couldn’t meet their eyes. He just let his feet carry him through the house, gaze glued to the floor. When he opened the door, it was glued to the grass. Then the dirt path. Then the floor of the barn. Though his body shook with barely acknowledged fear, he clambered up the ladder and back into the loft. It was only when he tucked himself into a dark, high corner that he finally let himself think. Questions swirled and lashed in his head, each more pointed than the last. Why couldn’t he tell people about what he saw? Why didn’t the magic look like they said? Why did they insist his eyes were wrong? Why had his mother called him bewitched when he tried to say they were wrong? Did they even know magic at all? Were they trying to hide things? He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t have answers, and the more he thought, the more frustrated he got. By the time he felt tears trickling down his cheeks, he knew he had to make some kind of decision. Even if the idea scared him. Taking a shaky breath, Theodore scrubbed the tears from his face. He unfolded himself from the corner he’d crammed himself in. Dropping lightly to the hay, he strode over to his hidden nook. The floorboards creaked under his hands as he reached for his journal. The beat up cover looked ready to fall apart. But it’d persevered this long. It still held so much precious knowledge. It could still hold more. Just like him. Theodore sat down in the middle of the loft, scribbling away once again. Though this time, an air of purpose surrounded him. A flame of determination lit his thoughts, illuminating the words on the page. If his parents weren’t gonna tell him the truth about magic, he’d find it out himself. ‘Anyone can use magic, kid,’ the stranger’s words echoed. ‘Even you. You just gotta dig for it.’ Dig is just what I’ll do, Theodore thought. I had a bad landin. Not so much on my feet. But I can learn. I will learn. And I’m gonna hit the ground running.

[athena-athena]

A Ravager Christmas - Part Three

A/N: Part three of my Yondu Christmas story!  I’m planning to post the final part next week!  

Summary:  Yondu x Reader.  

Warnings:  None.

Tagged:  @animeaniseed @misfitgirlwrites @celticheart72 @jacalineiscomingforyou (Let me know if you’d like to be added to my tagged list!)  

Waking up without an alarm was always such a luxury, one that you normally didn’t get to enjoy.  Yondu had been adamant that you have the day off, though, and you hadn’t argued with him about it.  It was only after you sat up in bed and stretched that you realized it was Christmas Eve on Terra.  Part of you wished you did have some work to do, if only to keep your mind off the celebrations going on back on your home planet.  You sighed, but then decided not to mope about it.  Even if you couldn’t celebrate Christmas in the traditional way, you could still try to enjoy your day.  

You got up, showered, and dressed, taking your time and enjoying the rare feeling of not having anything to do.  You decided to forgo your usual Ravager outfit for something a little more festive.  You rarely wore the few clothes you’d brought from Terra, but the sentimentalist in you just couldn’t get rid of them.  You chose your favorite red sweater dress, black tights, and a pair of comfortable ankle boots.

Humming a Christmas song to yourself, you headed to the mess hall for an early lunch.  You weren’t used to skipping breakfast, and you were starting to get hungry.  You vaguely wondered why it seemed so quiet on the ship – silence was rare on a ship full of Ravagers.  When you arrived in the mess hall, you found it empty, which was strange at this time of the day.  You grabbed some food and sat down at one of the empty tables.  It was actually too quiet in the room, so you took out your communicator to call Yondu.

His face popped up on the screen, and he said, “Hey, darlin’!  How are ya enjoyin’ yer day off?”

“Hey, Yondu.  It’s kinda lonely, actually.”  You could see Ravagers in the background, but you couldn’t tell what they were doing.  “What are y’all working on?”

“Oh, er, nothin’.”  He turned his back to the wall so that you could no longer see the others.

“Nothing, huh?”

“Nope, jus’ regular Ravager stuff.”

“Well, where are y’all?  I’ll come help.”

“Today’s yer off day, ‘member, ya need to jus’ go relax.”

“I’m not used to relaxing.  It’s too quiet.  It’s almost eerie with no one around.”

“Why don’tcha go read fer a while, an’ I’ll join ya in a little bit.  I’ll keep ya from gettin’ too lonely.”

“I would like to finish my book.”

“There ya go, then, darlin’, go finish yer book, an’ I’ll see ya later.”  

You could hear loud noises in the background – glass shattering and Ravagers yelling.  “Is everything okay?”

Yondu was clearly distracted by the disturbance.  “Wha’?  Oh, yeah.  Yeah, ever’thing’s jus’ fine, sweetheart.  I gotta go, though.”  

“Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, darlin’!”

He signed off, and you sighed, picking up your fork.  You finished your meal, then walked to the galley in the back to wash your dirty dishes.  The door was closed, which was unusual.  Not only closed, but locked. You knocked, and heard Cook say, “Who is it?”  

“Um, it’s Y/N.  I was just going to wash these dishes.  Why is the door locked?”

“Oh, uh, gotta mess in here, Y/N.  Don’t worry ‘bout the dishes, just leave ‘em out there.  I’ll wash ‘em later.”

“Are you sure?  Is everything okay in there?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, Y/N!  Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay...”

You set the dishes down on the nearest table, and headed back to your room to pick up your book. Something was definitely going on, but you had absolutely no idea what it could be.  You walked into your room and over to the small nightstand next to your bed, but your book was missing. You were pretty sure you’d left it there last night before going to sleep.  You looked around for a few minutes, but couldn’t find it anywhere, so you gave up and chose another book to read instead. It wasn’t “A Christmas Carol,” it wasn’t Christmas-themed at all, but it would have to do.  

You decided to read in Yondu’s room since it had the most comfortable chair on the ship.  You slipped off your boots, curled up in his chair, and opened your book. You were so immersed in the story that you didn’t hear the door open a couple of hours later. You only realized someone was in the room with you when you turned a page and noticed Yondu kneeling in front of you.  

“Oh, hey, Yondu!  Why didn’t you say something when you came in?”

“I did, ya jus’ didn’t hear me.”  He grinned at you, and continued, “But ya looked so cute sittin’ there enjoyin’ yer book, so I stopped talkin’.  Didn’t wanna interrupt ya.”

“You could have, you know.  I’d rather talk to you than read.”  You scooted over and patted the cushion.  “Sit down.”

Yondu squeezed in beside you, and you draped your legs over his. “Did y’all finish whatever it was y’all were working on?”

“Yep, sure did.”

“Good.  So what were y’all working on?”

“Nothin’.  So how’s that book yer readin’?”

You allowed the subject change, even though you were still determined to find out what was going on.  “Oh, it’s okay.  I couldn’t find the book I was reading last night, though.  I swear I put it on my nightstand.”

“Uh, ya must’ve put it somewhere else and forgot.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t. I was reading it before I went to sleep, and I set it on the nightstand right before I turned off the lights.  You wouldn’t happen to know where it went, would you?”

“Huh, nah, not a clue... That, uh, happens sometimes, ya know.”

“What?  Books randomly going missing?”

“Yeah.  Heard about it happenin’ before.”

“Oh, really?  That’s common on a Ravager ship where basically no one reads?”  

“Oh, yeah, ya’d be surprised.”

You laughed, and kissed his cheek.  “It’s a good thing I love you, Yondu Udonta, because you are a terrible liar.”  

Grinning, he replied, “I love ya, too, Y/N.  An’ I gotta surprise fer ya.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, c’mon.”  

He helped you stand and keep your balance as you pulled your boots back on your feet.  “Okay, let’s go!”

“Yer lookin’ good in that outfit today,” he said, as he eyed you appreciatively.

“Thanks,” you replied, blushing slightly.  “I just felt like dressing up a little.”

“Ya look good ever’ day to me, though.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Captain,” you said, as you kissed him. “Now let’s go see this surprise.”

[vorefluff]

Drunk poker

This is the event that starts it all. This is where the Vore Blog Vlogging Times starts. Drunk poker. 

Drunk poker entails:

1) Being drunk. 2) No actual money exchanged. Just favors/dares/items. 3) All the rules are fucked up 4) Turns are out of order 5) Cheating all over the place, intentional or not (mostly by gryphon) 6) Reliant entirely on drunken memory as to what the bets were and who gets what 7) And a conversation the day after, straightening everything out and figuring out what the bets and everything was. Then decide collectively as a group whether it’s all valid and people are going to be held to it, or if it’s going to be forgotten and thrown away. 

There ain’t any vore in this one, and this is more the settup before the poker game, not the drunk poker game itself. It’s just short and silly.

Next story: https://vorefluff.tumblr.com/post/185113304474/vore-blog-vlogging-time

---------------------------------------------------------------------

John is heading back to his room after grabbing a quick snack when Gryphon turns the corner and sees him. 

“Hey! John! I was just lookin’ fer ya!” Gryphon saw, grinning at him and leaning against the wall. Her face is flushed.

“Are you drunk?”

“Jus a little. I’mm tipsy.”

“Lemme know if you need me to drive you somewhere.”

“Noo, no, that’s not it. Ya wanna ge’ drunk and play poker with me?”

“I was just about to go back to studying. And I’m broke and don’t gamble.”

“Nno, no. No money. Favors and dares.”

John considers it. “...Lemme go get Blaze too then.”

“Yeah sure, whatever. Is that a yes then?”

“It’s a recipe for disaster that I’m definitely going to regret, but yes.”

“You got to get drunk though. You’re not allowed to play if yer not drunk, k? Same for Blazy Bitch.”

“Come up with that nickname yourself?”

“Yes. Very proud of it too.”

“Pfft. Play in the dining room?”

“What am I playin’ in the dining room?”

“Poker. I’m asking if you want to play poker in the dining room.”

“Oh. Yeh. Okay.”

“I’ll go get Blaze drunk then,” John says and goes to hunt down Blaze. He found Blaze chilling on the floor beside his bed reading a book. 

“Why are you on the floor reading instead of the bed?” John asks, confused.

“It’s comfier.”

“Really?”

“No. I fuckin’ fell off the bed earlier and got too lazy to get up again.”

“Wait was that sarcastic or actually what happened.”

“The world may never know.”

“Aw. Oh well. Do you wanna play drunk poker with Gryphon and I?”

“Oooo, I get to get drunk?”

“Mhmm.”

“You or Gryphon volunteering for that?”

“Me.”

“Kinda figured, but it was worth a shot.”

“What, you saying her blood is better?”

“Yes.”

“Fair, fair. Well you’re stuck with mine, sorry.”

“I mean honestly as long as I get drunk I don’t care whose it is.”

“Desperate, huh?”

“It’s a rare luxury for a goody two shoes vampire that can’t just jump a drunk in an alley.”

“True. Well come on. Oh yeah, with the drunk poker. No money, just favors and dares.”

“Bloody hell. Is it too late to back out then?”

“Well, if you don’t want to get drunk. It’s both or neither friendo.”

“Well fuck. I guess I don’t have a choice.”

“Good to hear it. Common,” John says, gesturing for Blaze to hurry up. 

“Don’t fkin rush me, binch,” Blaze says, getting up and bending the corner of the page to mark his spot in the book. 

“Sacrilege! Heresy! Blasphemy! How could you do that to the poor book! What did that book ever do to you?”

“It killed my family,” Blaze says, rolling his eyes and tossing it on the bed.

“Mhmm. Sure. I bet you didn’t give it a proper trial with a judge and jury,” John says as they make their way out to the kitchen.

“I’m the fkin’ accuser, witness, judge, and jury. All in one. The Ultimate Judge. God himself.”

“Uh huuuuuh.”

“Can you imagine that though? Me as a god? Pfft. All I’d do is lounge around and eat all the food I can’t enjoy as a vamp. Like potato chips. I’d be a cannibal - a couch potato eating potato chips. I’d be a horrible god.”

“Very true.”

“Hey you weren’t supposed to agree with me there.”

John shrugs, and rummages in the alcohol drawer. It takes him a little while to decide, but he finally settles on tequila. 

“Going for the hard stuff, huh?”

“Heck yeah.”

“You’re supposed to use the fuck word there.”

“Mmm, nah. Heck that. How much should I do?”

“6 shots.”

“Thaaaaaat’s a little too much there.”

“5 shots?”

“I think I’ll stick with just three.”

“Do ‘em all at once.”

“Are you the little devil on my shoulder or something?”

“Yes and I want to get drunk too hurry up.”

“We should get out a camera and put mics on everyone, so we’ve got recorded proof of whatever deals and dares are made.”

“That seems a little much, don’tcha think?”

“Eh, yeah,” John says, grabbing a shot glass and pouring his first shot of tequila. 

“Nnnnnnnow chug the rest of the bottle.”

“No.”

“Half the bottle?”

“Nope. It’s prolly a really really good thing you can’t drink straight up alcohol.”

“Why?”

“Downing the whole bottle at once without eating first would prolly put you in a coma.”

“Oh. Uh. Don’t do that then. That’s bad.”

“Oh really? I didn’t know that,” John says, throwing back his first shot and grinning at Blaze. 

“But you can do multiple at once fine, right?”

“Well you’re not really supposed to.”

“That’s not a no.”

“This stuff tastes nasty. I hope you appreciate what I’m doing for you here,” John says, downing another two shots. He grimaces and thumps his chest, then belches. “Really really nasty. Wooph. Excuse me.”

“Nice one. One more?”

John sighs and looks at Blaze. “Really?”

“Please?”

After a couple moments, John shakes his head and pours another shot. “The things I do for you. This is gonna kill me later, you know. You’re supposed to space them out more. This is it, no more shots,” John says, downing the last one. He coughs a few times and puts away the tequila. 

“How long until I get drunk too?”

“Probably about twenty minutes before you can drink for max effect. I dunno how it works for vamps and how much or how long it takes after that though.”

“What do we do until then?”

“I dunno. Ask Gryphon. She said we weren’t allowed to play until we were drunk, and we aren’t drunk yet.”

“Uhhhh can you ask Gryphon.”

“You really need to work on having a better relationship with her. We’re all on the same team.”

“Well yeah but she’s fokin’ scary.”

“Not really. She just has a low tolerance for jerks.”

“Are you saying that I’m a jerk?”

“I didn’t say it, you did.”

“Mreh. Fuck you.”

“No thank you.”

“I- stop doing that.”

“Nah. So are you gonna go ask Gryphon?”

“Nah.”

“Hey no fair, that’s my trick.”

“Nah.”

“It doesn’t work like that. Then it’s just annoying instead of clever.”

“It was never clever.”

“Heheh that rhymes. Never clever. Never clever cleaver beaver. Pfft.”

“Uh John, you alright there?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I just like rhymes. But never mind that, we need to ask Gryphon what we’re supposed to do while we wait for the tequila to kick in,” John says, planting his hands on Blaze’s shoulders, turning him around, and propelling him through the doorway in Gryphon’s direction.

“Wait what - feckin’ ‘ell.”

“Gryphon! What’re we supposed to do while we wait to get drunk?” John asks. 

“I dunno. Pin the tail on the donkey?” Gyphon suggests.

“I don’t think we have that game.”

“Nno no. We do. Jus get a ribbon and a tack. We already got our ass right here,” Gryphon says, gesturing to Blaze.

“Sorry, I ain’t gay.”

“What? How. What? How is that related to. What?” John says, confused.

Gryphon furrows her brows, trying to figure it out.

“The. Pin the tail on the donkey. The tack. I don’t want things in my ass.”

“Oh.”

“I made an attempt to be funny.”

“I don’t think it really worked,” John says.

“Yeah, I’ll just leave the gay jokes to you.”

“We should go out sometime,” John says, shoulder bumping Blaze.

“... was that supposed to be a gay joke?”

“Yeh.”

Gryphon snickers

“Why am I the butt of every bloody joke?”

“Cause you’re an ass,” Gryphon says. 

“No, that doesn’t work. You can’t use the same joke twice,” John scolds. 

“Can we not make that joke at all maybe.”

“Ooooooh noooooo, he’s offended! That’s it, cancel the missions, disband the team,” Gryphon says, putting her hands up.

Blaze grumbles. 

“So what’re we doing?” John asks again.

“I dunno.”

[kitstwistfellau]

Bucket List

This fic has two versions.

The first version, on AO3, contains triggering content. Link can be found HERE, but please mind yourself. 

The version under the cut is trigger-free. It is a nice, fluffy fic, and it shouldn’t give you any trouble. The listed tags and pairings are for the fic posted below. The AO3 version has its own tags and triggers posted.

Summary: There's so much to do once they reach the surface. And Twist wants to try everything.

Pairings: Very, very mild Cash/Twist and Twist/Slim.

Tags: Twist-centric, fluff, mild warning for brief skydiving. Background sads if you consider what a Bucket List is and why Twist has one.

-

Edge sighed, staring at the fourth attempt at a cake. He ran a hand down his face, while Twist just studied it, puzzled. “So…what’d I do wrong?”

“Well I think being born was likely your first mistake.”

“Hey! I was created in a lab, an’ I think ya know that.”

Edge sighed, rubbing the space between his sockets. “Are you quite certain you don’t just want to let me make the cake?”

“No!” Twist said, and Edge raised a brow-bone. Twist rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “Sorry, darlin’. But, uh, this is import’nt, yeah?”

Edge sighed. “Fine. Let’s try this again. For the fifth time.”

Twist, infuriatingly, beamed at him.

-

“Hey, sweetheart, ya ever thought ‘bout goin’ skydivin’?”

“…you’re joking, right?”

“So tha’s a no?”

“twist. that’s an emphatic ‘no’ with a series of exclamation marks at the end of it.”

“…Oh. Well. Uh…so now that ya’ve thought ‘bout it, ya think maybe ya’d be in’erested? Hey. Hey! Rus? Where’re ya goin’?”

-

“Hey, darlin’? If ya could go anywhere in the world…where would ya go?”

Red blinked, taking a pull on his beer. “dunno. haven’ thought ‘bout it much, i guess.”

Staring up the ceiling, Twist said. “There’re so many places up ‘ere. So many things ta see, ya know? An’ not half ‘nough time ta see ‘em all.”

Red just grunted. “so where’d you go, then? if ya could go anywhere?”

“The moon,” Twist said, dead serious. Red chuckled and Twist cracked a grin. “Not sure. Ev’rest would be cool ta see. Fun ta climb, too.”

Red laughed. “you an’ me got different definitions ‘a ‘fun’.”

Twist glanced at him and winked, clinking his beer against Red’s. “Not always, sweetheart. Not always.” For a little while, he was quiet, then he asked, “If ya could fuck anyone in the world, who would it be?”

-

Twist sat beside Slim, watching his fingers move over the keys. “So…how d’ya do this, darlin’? Where do I put my fingers?”

Slim smiled serenely and stilled his hands. “here. like this.” Twist laid his hands overtop his and waited.

“Right. Now what?”

Slim chuckled. “we’ll start with something simple.” He slowly moved his fingers over the board, and Twist followed him doggedly, a hesitant rendition of ‘Hot Cross Buns’ sounding out. Slim pulled his hands away. “now do it on your own.”

Twist nodded and took a breath, fingers playing over the keys. “Like this?”

“yeah. like that. you’re doing really good.” Slim smiled softly, and Twist beamed, a rumbling purr rattling his bones.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Fer, ya know, teachin’ me. ‘preciate it.”

“of course. i’m…i’m happy to.” Slim blushed as he said it, and for a moment, they were both aware of how close they were sitting, aware of the warmth of the monster beside them. Then Twist cleared his throat and returned his attention to the piano.

“So…I jus’ keep doin’ this, or…?”

“oh. right. um. here. let me get the sheet music. you’ll, uh, you’ll need to know how to read it.”

-

“Hey, Pap. Got a question fer ya.”

“OH! HELLO, TWISTED ME. WHAT CAN I HELP YOU WITH?”

“Ya wanna go ta Washington with me? ‘pparently there’re monsters up ‘ere that never got driven Underground. They’re shy, though. Wanna see if I can draw ‘em out. Ya know. Make friends.”

“THAT’S AN EXCELLENT IDEA! AS AMBASSADOR, IT IS MY DUTY—NAY! MY PLEASURE TO FIND THESE MONSTERS AND REUNITE THEM WITH THEIR PEOPLE!”

“Sweet. Pack a bag. Plane leaves in…” He checked his watch. “Five hours.”

-

“Heya, darlin’!”

Cash just glared at him and went back to reading his newspaper. Twist scooted closer. Cash scooted away. Twist scooted closer again, and Cash was out of room on the couch. He didn’t say anything until Twist was close enough to put his chin on Cash’s shoulder and say, almost directly into his acoustic meatus, “Whatcha doin’?”

“trying not to lose my patience. what do you want?”

“You’re inta gamblin’ an’ shit, right? A real high roller?”

Cash’s interest was peaked, but he tried not to show it. “you could say that, yes.”

“…So would ya be in’erested in goin’ ta Vegas with me? Got tickets to a magic show.” Cash shook out the newspaper, turning the page. “But tha’s more my thing than yers, I bet. Reserved the penthouse suite at….” He tilted his head back. “The Bellagio? Yeah. That sounds right. Figured tha’s a lot a space fer little ol’ me. More’n enough room fer a friend.” Cash glanced at him, brow-bone raised.

“twist. i’ve seen your pay check. how the fuck did you—?”

Twist smiled slowly and raised a hand, holding up Cash’s wallet. “Right. Yeah. So. Might’ve misspoke b’fore. You reserved a room at the Bellagio. Rented a convertible too, fer the trip out that way. Pretty little thing. Real smooth ride. Should—“

“you little—!” Cash snatched his wallet back and glared at him. Twist just grinned, somehow managing to look innocent after committing actual theft. He flipped through his wallet to make sure he hadn’t stolen anything else. “you picked my pocket?! when?”

Twist shrugged. “Sorry, sweetheart. You c’n take the rat outta the gutter, but ya can’t take the gutter outta the rat, I guess.”

Cash shook his head…but he was eyeing Twist with calculation now. “…yeah. i bet. and i bet a gutter-rat like you has more than a few tricks up his sleeve.”

A slow smile spread across Twist’s face, and he indeed produced a coin from seemingly nowhere. “Yeah. Ya could say that, darlin’.”

Cash grunted, looking between Twist and his recovered wallet. It had been ages since someone had rolled him like that. He could put those talents to good use. Especially in a place like Vegas. With another calculated look, he declared, “fine. but you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“Aw, darlin’—“ But a particularly harsh glare silenced him. It didn’t wipe the smug grin off his face, though.

-

Blue looked between Twist and the long trench filled with hot coals. He could feel the heat radiating off of them. “I’m not so sure about this.”

“Aw, c’mon, darlin’. Ya ain’t havin’ second thoughts are ya?”

Blue took a breath. “Second thoughts, yes. And third thoughts. Maybe even fourth thoughts.”

Twist leaned down, planting his hands on Blue’s shoulders. “Ya remember what they said durin’ class, yeah? Jus’ keep walkin’ an’ stay calm. Don’ run. Don’ rush it, and don’ stop no matter what. Here. I’ll go first, if it’ll make ya feel better ‘bout it.”

Blue shook his head. “No. No. I can do it. Just. Give me a moment.” He took a deep breath, and started across, blocking out Twist’s encouraging shouts.

At the end of the trench, when his bare feet were back on cool grass, all his breath left him in a rush and a huge grin lit up his face. He ran to his brother—watching anxiously from the sidelines—and hugged him, chattering excitedly while they watched Twist walk across the coals himself. A huge smile lit his face, and he joined them soon enough, laughing as he lifted them both off the ground in a celebratory hug.

-

Red grinned as he opened the mailbox, pulling out the latest series of post cards. There was one with a picture of Mount Everest on the front. The others were all places he couldn’t recognize, the caption on the bottom of the card little more than gibberish to his uneducated sockets. The back of each card was filled with Twist’s shockingly neat writing, narrating his journey across Nepal and the Himalayas.

He brought the cards inside, reading the backs as he drank his morning cup of coffee. Smiling to himself, he pinned the fresh batch of post cards to the corkboard. There was already a collage of similar cards from all over the world pinned to it.

Maybe Twist was right. Maybe there wasn’t enough time to see everything, but damn if the crazy fucker wasn’t trying his best.

-

“how did you talk me into this?” Rus demanded, knees shaking as the door of the plane was thrown open.

“Same way I talked my way inta bed with Cash. Persistence.”

Rus blinked. “…what?”

But Twist was grinning as his jump partner strapped him into the tandem harness. The instructor was reminding Rus that he would be just fine. He didn’t have to do anything—just let his jump partner do all the work. His soul pounded, terrified. But Twist and his partner were already out the door, and now everyone was looking at him and—

They.

They were.

Falling!

Rus swore at the top of his voice all the way down, the wind whipping his words away until even he couldn’t hear what he was saying. His soul only settled marginally when the parachute deployed and—after the initial jerk against the harness—they started to drift down at a more leisurely pace. When they landed, though, his knees were shaking and, if not for his flight partner, he’d likely have allowed himself to slip bonelessly to the ground in gratitude.

Twist, infuriatingly, was laughing recklessly and swearing in pure, undiluted joy. “Fuck yeah! Yes! Fucking hell!” Manic grin in place, he looked back at Rus and said, “We’ve gotta do that again.”

Rus, speechless, gave him both middle fingers—dissatisfied when Twist’s only response was another joyous whoop.

-

“Next time, ya wanna try Jersey? Heard there’s a monster out that way with a real nasty reputation. Poor guy’s prob’ly jus’ lonely.”

“HMMM. I SUPPOSE.” Papyrus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “BUT I THINK WE SHOULD DO MORE RESEARCH NEXT TIME. I’M NOT SURE THE LOCALS TOOK OUR QUEST VERY SERIOUSLY. AND I’M QUITE CERTAIN ‘BIGFOOT’ IS SOME KIND OF PEJORATIVE.”

Twist nodded seriously. “Yeah. Yer prob’ly right. Can’t say I’d be all that keen ta come say ‘hi’ if someone was yellin’ racial slurs at me either. Can’t really blame the poor guy.”

Papyrus patted him on the back. “I KNOW YOU’RE DISAPPOINTED, TWISTED-ME, BUT WE DID LEAVE THEM SOME BROCHURES! I’M CERTAIN THEY’LL CALL US ONCE THEY REALIZE OUR INTENTIONS ARE ONLY GOOD.”

He brightened at that. “Yeah. Yeah!” He knocked his shoulder against Papyrus’. “Thanks, darlin’. Ya always know jus’ what ta say.”

Papyrus beamed. “NOW…JERSEY, YOU SAY?”

-

Twist’s fingers played across the keys. He stumbled in a few places, and he hit a few wrong notes, but the melody was recognizable, and his playing was soft and sweet—at odds with the look of intense concentration on his face. The song came to an end and he sat back, features inscrutable.

“something wrong?” Slim asked.

“…This is hard, sweetheart. Harder’n I expected.”

Slim nodded sagely. “yeah.” He sat beside Twist and, nudging him to make room, set his hands on the keys. His fingers flowed over the board, smooth and easy. He relaxed into it, smiling softly. “it takes time.”

“Time,” Twist echoed. “Yeah.”

Slim eyed him. “twist?”

He shook his head, his smile returning—just as bright as always. “Show me how it goes again?”

For a moment, Slim hesitated, tempted to push him. Instead, he shook away his unease and set about showing Twist how the song was played once more.

-

Smiling proudly, Twist carried the cake out to the dining room, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ at the top of his voice. Never mind that neither of them actually knew what day they’d been ‘born’. It was the thought that mattered. Blackberry was smiling and kicking his feet, pleased to be the center of attention. The others stood around the table, singing as well. Carefully, Twist set the cake on the table, soul warming when Blackberry leaned over the table to blow out the candles as the song came to an end.

He studied the cake. “Oh, wow, Edge you really outdid yourself this time! This is beautiful!”

“I didn’t make it,” Edge said, a very slight smile softening his features almost imperceptibly.

Blackberry cocked his head. “Blue?” Blue shook his head too. “Um…did you…buy…it?” They all shook their heads. “Then…who…?” Twist smiled and winked at his brother, pretending not to be hurt when Blackberry’s face fell a little. “Papy? You…? Really?”

“Yep!” Twist said, chin lifted. “Wan’ed ta su’prise ya.”

Blackberry did a remarkable job of hiding his disappointment. “Oh, Papy—you didn’t have to do that!” he said, voice bright.

“I know but….” He scuffed a foot against the floor. “Was important ta me. Dunno why. Jus’. Wan’ed ta do it.”

Blackberry’s smile grew more genuine. “Aw. Papy….”

“would someone just cut the fucking cake?” Cash asked gruffly. “you two are making me sick.”

Edge calmly cuffed him, earning a glare and a rude gesture. “Blackberry? Would you care to do the honors?”

Nodding eagerly, Blackberry grabbed the knife and—leaning away from the cake—cut through the frosting and the sponge. The smell of chocolate wafted through the air, rich and heady. When the cake failed to explode, Blackberry leaned close and observed, “Oh, wow. It looks…it looks really good, Papy!” He didn’t quite manage to hide his surprise, but Twist couldn’t exactly blame him for that.

“Hopefully it tastes good, too,” Twist said, scratching at the back of his neck. After several long sessions with Edge, he’d finally managed to consistently produce a cake that wasn’t just edible but tasted good. Still, Edge hadn’t been there to help him out this time. He might have fucked it up without the other skeleton around to monitor his progress.

“I’M SURE IT’S DELICIOUS, TWISTED-ME.” No one really commented on that, but there were a few uneasy glances exchanged. Edge, however, just stared back at him coolly and…confidently? Somehow, that made Twist’s shoulders relax marginally.

“Well?” Edge said, “You’re the guest of honor, Blackberry. It only seems fair you get the first bite.”

Blackberry hesitated, but ultimately nodded. “Yes! You’re…You’re absolutely right! As the birthday boy I am obligated—honored to have the first piece!”

He beamed at his brother, but Twist could see the strain in his cheekbones and around his sockets. He cut a piece of cake—a small piece, given Blackberry’s usual opinion that more was better—and set it on a plate. Daintily, he used a fork to cut a small piece away. He lifted the fork, holding it in front of his face as if to study it before putting it in his mouth. Smiling uneasily, he eyed Twist and, with a nearly imperceptible fortifying breath, took a bite.

His sockets went wide and his pupils burst into stars. Still holding the fork, he asked, “Papy? You made this? Really?”

Soul pounding so hard he could nearly hear it echoing in his skull, Twist nodded eagerly, breathing still a little unsteady. “So it’s...it’s good?”

“Good?” Blackberry asked, “It’s incredible!”

Twist didn’t doubt his word. The hesitance and traces of uneasiness were all gone. He cheerfully cut the rest of the cake and split it amongst the other guests, making sure to give himself another—more generous—slice. And when Twist took the first bite, his bones went limp with relief. He wasn’t exactly a fan of chocolate, but he knew that this was what the cake was supposed to taste like—sweet but not cloying, rich and moist.

Soul still fluttering in a mix of relief and adrenaline, he looked up and caught Edge’s socket—and grinned fiercely when Edge offered him a nearly imperceptible nod of approval.

[pen-of-dunwall]

Tales of the Heart, Ch. 15 - Now I Got My A’s and Z’s

by essie-essex

for citywatchoverseer

City Watch Guard

“He taught himself how to read.”

There oh... uh... once was a cat named Ollie who lived in a co-cozy ho-hose... hoss... a house, a cozy house, with his Mama, Papa, Bro-Bruh-Brother, and... Sister. But Ollie was no oh-or-di-na-ry cat. He was very c-curious and... oh-often got into tr... tr... trou-ble.

Un... One cold w-win-ter eh... ehven... even... e-ven-ing, it beg-an to s-snow...

...and s-snow, and snow, and SNOW. Haha.

“Oh, boy!” said Ollie. “My f-first w-win-ter!”

Ollie le-leapt on-to the... the, uh... the w-win-dow-sill, his eye-eyes fo-fol-low-ing the stra-strange white dots as they flo-a... flo-floated to the ground. He put his paws up to the cold gla-glass, rai... rais... rais-ing himself up on his two hi-hind legs to get a bet-better look. Brother and Sister played ou-out-side, thro-throwing hand... fuls of white po-po-pow-powder at each other, their ch... cheeek... cheeks and noses red and ro-round. Ollie's tail swis... swis-sh... swished with, oh boy, ex... exit... exit-me-excitement as he watched them.

“How I would love to play in the snow,” Ollie said, his eyes filled with de-des-desire. “I would buh... buh... bur... burr-ow under it oo... uh-until I found the per-fect spot, warm and dark.”

The cat til-tilt-tilted his head back, pee-king at the door. Papa sat in his big chair reading a book, and Ollie could hear Mama in the kit-kitchen.

Surely, they would not not-notice...

Ollie ju-jumped to the gro-ground and cro... croch... croached... no, crouched, he crouched low, ti-tip-tip-toe-ing his way to the front door where the ch-child-ren would be re... ret-returning at any mo-ment, and when they open-opened the door, he would spr... sprin... sprint out into the snow and bur-bury himself in it before they could catch him.

He heard fa-faint la... lau... log... log-ha... lag... la... laugh-laughter as the ch-children ne-nea-neared the door and his ears per... perk... perked as he heard moo... muh... muffleh... muffle... muffled sto-stomp-ing.

“Ready... Ready...” he said to himself. He dar-dared not move. It was almost time.

The door click-clicked as one of the children turned the dork-door-doorknob, the door crack-ing open a mom-moment later. Ollie star-star-ted to change-charge but stopped sud-den-ly as the cold breeze cau... caused his skin to shiv-shiver. The children enter-ed the house, brus-brushing white powder from their coats.

“The door will close soon,” Ollie said. “This is my last chance!”

He took a deep breath, cr-crouched low, and chan-charged outside.

I let my arm drop, still holdin' the open book between my fingers, and sigh.

When I got this book from the library, the lady told me that this was for kids, but Ollie the Cat's First Winter by T.J. Brownstone ain't no easy reader. I can feel myself gettin' tired, and my head kinda hurts.

I probably shouldn't be readin' durin' my shift, but it can get real borin' just standin' here waitin' for somethin' to happen. It's kinda rainy today, so the market ain't too crowded, so that means no fights over the last fresh fish to break up, no youngsters stealin' sweets to chase after, and no pretty ladies to holler at. Nope, nothin' to do but just stare at the sky... or read if you know how.

I hear laughter from in front of me and spot two boys in worn clothes whisperin' to each other. I guess the rain didn't keep everyone away. They stop, the larger one takin' a few steps towards me.

“Hey, aren't you reading Ollie the Cat?” The boy looks up at me with tight lips and somethin' that ain't just innocent curiosity hidden behind his eyes.

“Yeah, what about it?” I say, pullin' my shoulders back. “Shouldn't you kids be at home anyways?”

“It's a free city,” the boy says. “We're just walking home from school.”

“Yeah, well, keep walkin'. I gotta job to do,” I tell him.

“You didn't look like you were doing your job. You looked like you were reading an Ollie the Cat book.” The little brat smirks.

“Well, you kids just don't know any better. Now, scram.”

The boy snorts, his mouth tight and his face red. He looks back at the other, who has the same expression on his face, like he thinks somethin's funny.

“That's a kids' book,” the boy says. “Like for babies. I read all the Ollie the Cat books when I was nine.” He turns to look at his friend behind him, who giggles.

“Yeah,” says the smaller boy. “Me too. Isn't that the one where Ollie goes outside in the winter and freezes--”

“Hey!” I scream. “Don't give it away! I ain't read the whole thing yet!”

The boys jump at the sound of my voice, but pretty soon they ain't scared no more and start laughin'.

“Wow, City Watch Guards really are dumb!” The taller boy says. His little friend giggles along with him, but I'm about done with their shit.

I draw my sword and lunge towards 'em, like I'm about to attack.

“Yeah, keep laughin' when you're in damn pieces on the ground!”

The boys scream, scurryin' away like rats, and I watch until they're out of sight, takin' a deep breath to calm myself.

“It's okay, Murray,” I say. “They're just a bunch of spoiled kids.”

That's right. They're a bunch of spoiled schoolboys. Not everyone had the money to go to school when they was kids.

I grew up during the Morley Insurrection, when spyin' on your neighbor, makin' sure they wasn't helpin' the Morlish (or the “Morleyans” as we was s'posed to call 'em, just to piss 'em off), or that, stars forbid, they was Minnows themselves, was much more important than goin' to school or doin' any kinda work that wasn't helpin' the Empire win against the rebels.

There was plenty of jobs with the war on, and the factory fatcats was glad to get their hands on any children, so they could work 'em hard. An eighteen-hour workday, each and every day, is what I remember from my childhood. But there was bread to eat and bunks to sleep in. Sure, they was dirty, but they was indoors. I sent my pay home to my parents so they could take care of my sisters and brothers who was too young to work.

So, no, I didn't have no time to read like the little brats these days, but that don't make 'em better than me. Hell, I'm better than them, since I learned how to read all on my own. That's right, all by myself. No one helped me learn my letters.

Now that I know how to read, though, there's plenty around to practice with. It's crazy how many signs they got posted 'round the city, and there's even more than usual in the marketplace with words like “FRESH FISH” “HOMEMADE SOAP” “GARDEN VEGETABLES” “RARE FRUITS” and “BAKERY”. I tried to read them all when I first started learnin' my letters, but now those signs are so easy to read, I can understand 'em all in just a second or two.

I've learned a lot from readin' posters on the walls and such, too. Like the recruitment ads for the City Watch say guards are s'posed to make a whole four coins a day, and Officers make six coins. I ain't never seen more than three coins in a day, and lately they've been givin' me just two. I told this to the others so maybe we could get together and ask for our real pay, but they just told me to quit bein' so smart.

“You read it on a poster?” Jackson was the first one to speak when I told the boys about our pay.

“Yeah, we're s'posed to be gettin' four whole coins a day,” I 'member foldin' my arms and leanin' against my bunk, thinkin' I was somethin'. Like I was gonna start some kinda movement, leadin' all the guards in the Watch through the streets holdin' up signs. But that attitude didn't last for long.

“I think he's just makin' that up,” another one of the guards said from across the room. “You can't even read anyways.”

“I learned,” I said. “Well, I'm learnin', but the poster really does say that. There's one right next door. Just come with me, and--”

“You tryin' to get us fired, Murray? Quit bein' so smart.” Jackson turned toward the door. “Now, I'm gonna go steal me some food, and then I know a certain lady who's waitin' for these two coins in my pouch. You all comin'?”

The others followed Jackson, leavin' me alone. Just a year ago, I never would'a passed up a night with  a girl, but sometimes a man just wants somethin' more.

I'd thought that by learnin' to read that maybe I'd feel better about myself or the world or somethin' like that, but I don't know. Now instead of others makin' fun of me for bein' dumb, my own fellow guards make fun of me for bein' too smart.

But now that I can read faster, I'm startin' to get why there's people that actually like to read. Some books are really interestin'.

My shift ends, and I head back to the bunks while the others go for a drink.

I wish that boy from earlier today hadn't told me what would happen to Ollie the Cat. So, he freezes to death? I take the book out of my bag, flippin' through it and lookin' at the pictures. On one page, I can see Ollie racin' out the front door into the snow. I turn the page and see a picture of a sad little cat, all curled up in a ball, with icicles hangin' from its fur.

Poor Ollie.

But the book's not over. There's more. I turn the page and gasp. Papa carries Ollie into the house. He's alive!

I turn the page again. Now he's in front of the fireplace, and on the next page, he's smilin' and warm, and on the next—wait.

I slam the book shut.

No, I gotta read it. I can't just look at the pictures.

Cold and wet, Ollie had no energ-energy to run from Papa and, in-stead, curl-ed... curled up in his arms, shiv-shivering v-vio-vio-lent-ly. He cried when Papa tried to put him down, hanging on tight to his clothes with his sharp claws. Fin-finally, Papa man-aged... managed to set Ollie on the floor, where Sister and Brother waited for him with two flu-ffy to-wels. They dried him off as well as they could, and handed him to Mama, who w-wrap-ped... wrapped him in a soft blan... blanket.

“Let's put you some-place nice and warm,” she said, cudd-ling him in her arms. Papa picked up a box and took a woo... wood-en stick from it. Ollie watched the stick, which nor-normally, would have looked very fun to play with, but he was far too cold to play. With a quick g-g-gues... gest... gesture, Papa stuck it against the box, making o-rang... o-range light come from it.

“How strange,” Ollie said, tilt-ing his head to the side. Thog...though Papa had now cau-caught his at-ten-ti-on, he was still much too cold to do anything but watch laz-lazily from Mama's arms.

Papa put the stick into a hole be-hind a grat-grating. Ollie had never not-not-noticed that hole before. It looked like a great place to hide. But Ollie was too cold to think of hid-ing there now.

Wips-wisps of smoke and then orange waves grew from the bo-ttom of the hole, con-sum-ing the large chunks of wood in its in-ter-i-or. Ollie watched the flames. They were like nothing he had ever seen before. Mama took him closer and set him down, and Papa replac-ed... replaced the grat-ing, ob-scur-ing the dan-king... dancing fig-ur-es... figures. Ollie was dis-a-ppoin-ted. He wanted to watch them dance, but he was too cold to arg-argue. He lay in front of the fireplace, feeling the warm-th flow from it. Oh, how good that warmth would feel ag-ainst his skin. How good it would be to bury himself in warm orange waves.

Ollie stood, get-ting closer to the fireplace, but Mama st-stopped him.

“No, no, Ollie. That is fire. It is hot. You cannot get too close, or you will get burn-ed... burned.”

But Ollie did not un-der-stand. What was hot? Like a hot sum-mer's day? He could almost puh-purr, think-ing of the past summer when he lay out under the sun, while Mama stood near-by fan-fanning herself with her hand.

“W-hew, it's so hot today,” Ollie re-mem-ber-ed... remembered her saying. “It feels like I'm burn-ing up out here.”

So, hot was not bad at all! Mama mig-might not like it, but Ollie lov-loved when it was hot.

Hearin' voices outside, I look up from the text and close the book. The boys are back, drunk and loud as usual. I have a bad feelin' about this story, but I'll have to finish it later.

But I'm so worried about Ollie that I can't even sleep.

That mornin', the boys and I reach the marketplace and then go our separate ways, heading to our posts. Up ahead is Lee, who does the shift before me. He's singin' a song. I can't make it out at first, but as I get closer I hear the familiar tune of the A's and Z's song.

“A, B, C, D, E, N, G/ haych, I, J, K, elementally,” he sings.

I can't help but laugh.

“It's not 'elementally'. It's 'L, M, N, O, P,'” I almost say, but I don't wanna come off as a smart-ass.

It's funny how easy it is for me to sing that song now. When I first tried to learn it, I couldn't understand it. It was just a bunch'a sounds. How could anyone memorize it?

I 'member first hearin' it bein' sung by a bunch'a little kids goin' to school. They walked behind their teacher in a straight line, and she sang right along with them. It was the weirdest song I'd ever heard. It didn't have no words in it – at least not until, “Now I know my A's and Z's/Tell me what you think of me.”

Now, I was at least smart enough to know that A's and Z's meant letters. So that's what all that gibberish was. The kids was learnin' their letters!

Every mornin', I tried to listen to the whole song, but I never caught the whole thing, and I still didn't know what any of it meant. Finally, one day I just went up and asked.

I 'member the teacher saw me comin' and slowed down before she put her arm out to shield the children.

“Hello, Ma'am,” I said, rememberin' to be polite, of course.

“Good day,” the teacher said. She eyed me real cautious, like she was scared I was gonna attack her or somethin'. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, I mean, yeah. I was, uh--” I took a deep breath. “I just wanna know what that song is you're singin'.”

“What song are we singing?” The teacher's eyes got wide, and she looked at me like there was somethin' funny. “It's the A's and Z's song. We're reciting the alphabet.”

“So, that's letters, right?” I asked.

“That's, uh, that's correct, yes.” The teacher nodded. “Um, is there anything else?” she asked, after I didn't say nothin' for a moment.

“Could I learn it, too?”

The teacher opened her mouth and closed it again.

“I ��� sure. I mean, I could.” She stopped to think for a moment. “We could use an escort on our way to the school. I much prefer walking my students there to letting them go by themselves, but I would feel much safer with an actual guard to protect us.”

I knew I wasn't supposed to just leave my post, but I only had to walk them to school and then I'd be right back. Plus, there was other guards nearby.

“Sure,” I agreed. “And you'll teach me the song?”

“You can learn right along with us,” she said. She took a piece of paper from a bag hanging on her shoulder.

“Oh, I can't read,” I said, lookin' at all the funny symbols on the paper.

“Well, each one of those is a letter. So, here's A, B, C...” she pointed to each as she said it. “Let's get going. Children? A's and Z's, but let's sing it very slowly so... Sorry, I didn't get your name.”

“Murray,” I told her.

“And I'm Helena Delaney,” she said, smilin' kinda quick and then turnin' to the kids. “Okay, let's sing slowly so that Murray can read along with us.”

The moment I heard her say those words, I couldn't help but think how strange it sounded. “...so that Murray can read along with us.” Me. Readin'. How crazy was that? But I guess it was also kind of excitin'.

The school kids' voices interrupt my thoughts, and I wave Lee off and take his place.

“Murray! Hi, Murray! Good morning, Murray!” the kids all say as the line approaches with their teacher, Miss Delaney, at the front.

“Good morning, Murray,” she says, smiling.

“Mornin' Miss Delaney. Mornin' kids,” I say, givin' them all a big wave.

“Shall we carry on?” says Miss Delaney, and they head off, the A's and Z's song startin' automatically as I line up behind them.

“So, Murray, how is the reading going?” Miss Delaney asks.

We've arrived at the school, and all the kids are gettin' ready for the day and sittin' at their desks. I notice the familiar A's and Z's chart at the front of the classroom. I can recognize all the letters real easy now, and to think I used to not know what any of it meant.

“It's goin' pretty fine,” I answer. “I'm readin' a book about this cat. His name's Ollie.”

“Oh, Ollie the Cat. A bit too advanced for my children, but I'm still very familiar with those books. Which one are you reading?”

I lift up my helmet to rub the back of my head.

“It's the one where it's snowin' and Ollie goes outside.”

“Oh, that one.” Miss Delaney frowns and shakes her head. “Those books are always so tragic for an animal lover like me, but that one was especially sad.”

“Don't tell me!” I nearly yell, holding my hands up. “I haven't finished it yet.”

“Okay, okay!” Miss Delaney chuckles, putting her hands out. “Calm down, I won't spoil it for you.”

“Thanks,” I say, relaxing my arms. “Well, I gotta go back to my post. I'll see you tomorrow.” I turn to the kids. “Bye, kids!”

“Bye, Murray!” They all say, and I turn to leave while Miss Delaney starts class.

Time to get back to Ollie.

The flames wigg-led wiggle-wiggled and pop-popped, dancing in a way that made them almost ir-re-sis-ti-ble... irre-sistible to a cat like Ollie. He watched the emb-ers float into the air and disappear as he w-hipp-ed... w-hipped his tail back and for-th, his eyes con-cen-tra-ting in-ten-se-ly on the tan-ta-li-zing fire.  

But how would he get past the grating? He would have to move it, but sure-ly Mama or Papa would stop him before he could get past.

He sc-scanned the room, noticing-noting that the children had gone to bed and Mama and Papa sat do-doz-dozing off on the nearby sofa. So, he stood, war-i-ly stepping forward, his eyes locked on the nearly-sleeping couple. Creep-ing toward the bar-bar-ri-er s-se-pa-ra-ting him and the fire, he put his claws through the grating and yank-yanked it right down. It fell to the floor with a loud cla-clank that nearly made him dart in the other di-rec-tion, but he clamed-calmed himself and jumped on the grating, ready to make the final po-pounce.

“Ollie! No!”

The sound had wo-ken Mama and Papa, and they stoo-d, making their way to him. Ollie pa-nic-ked... panicked. He didn't have much time. The warmth from the fire toa-toast-toasted his skin like a hot summer's day, but he wanted those fla-mes flames for himself. He pounced, ready to trap the w-rig-gling w-riggling fire under his paws, as Mama sc-rea-m-ed... sc-reamed from behind him.

But soon he was the one sc-rea-ming.

“Hot! Hot! Hot!” he scree-ched... screeched. The fire was too hot. He bat-ted at the flames co-ver-ing his body, trying to keep them away, but it was no use as the fire cha-char-red... charred his bea-u-tiful fur, turn-ing it to the color of ash. Ollie screamed and screamed and screamed until his black-en-ed... blackened body went still, his life having fl-fled his us-use-useless co-corpse.

The End.

I can't believe it.

“Hey, Murray, you comin'?”

What in the Void just happened?

It's the end of my shift, and my buddies are all ready to go, but I clutch the book in my hand, my heart banged up and all but broken.

“No, you all go on. I'm gonna take a walk,” I say and push past 'em without sayin' another word.

You know, I figured things wouldn't turn out good for Ollie, but still the endin's left me kinda down. I got just as much into that book as someone would get into a story bein' told 'round the fire--

The fire.

Emotion hits me and leaves me with a bad feelin' in my stomach. Why'd that cat have to be so damn stupid?

I curse Ollie and T. J. Brownstone and the damn librarian that gave me the book and the goddamn library that kept the book on its shelves like it wasn't nothin' but another kid's story, just like the rest.

“Murray, what are you doing here?”

I walk into the classroom, and seein' the look on Miss Delaney's face, I let the tears fall.

“Is something wrong?” Miss Delaney asks. Her eyes get real wide, and she looks from side to side, but I'm too busy blubberin' to notice.

“Ollie died,” I sob, sniffling between words. “He... just jumped into the fireplace... and burned up.”

I look up at Miss Delaney, who, for just a moment, smirks before putting on a sympathetic face.

“It ain't funny,” I cry. “Why are you laughin'? Don't laugh!”

“Oh, Murray,” Miss Delaney approaches, putting her hand on my arm. “You didn't know?”

“Didn't know what?” I swallow, trying to keep my sobs at bay.

“Murray... Ollie dies in every book.”

The tears stop, and I stare at her through blurry eyes.

“W-What?”

“The cat dies in every book.” Miss Delaney replies. “That's the theme of the series. It's supposed to teach you not to be so curious that you get yourself into trouble.”

“I... wait a—What?”

Miss Delaney smiles a bit and then giggles, taking a handkerchief from her pocket.

“You poor thing!” she says, dryin' my eyes. I take the cloth from her, rubbin' it all over my face, wet with wasted tears.

“It's the same cat in every book? But how does he come back to life?” I hold up my finger. “Wait, wait, I know this. Cats got nine lives, right? So, as long as he doesn't die a whole nine times, he's okay.”

“Not quite,” Miss Delaney chuckles. “I think the trick here is that Ollie isn't a real cat. He's just a book character.”

“Well, that ain't realistic.” I sigh. “I could write a better story than that.”

“Maybe,” says Miss Delaney. She raises an eyebrow. “Are you looking to be a writer now?”

I laugh, feelin' my eyes dry up. Look at me, cryin' over a book.

“Oh no, nothin' like that. I just wanna read a better story. Somethin' happier.”

“Well, the library's still open. Maybe I can help you find some books you'd like to read.”

I nod, thinkin' of the possibilities—plus maybe Miss Delaney has a better taste in books than the librarian.

“Yeah, that'd be nice. Just no sad endin's,” I say. “And no cats.”

[bestialsadist]

Beast uf Tha Southern Wild (|5|) Bloodmoon: Fam’ly, Tribe, an’ Pack Pt. 1-4

Part 1:

Bloodmoon. Mah Fam’ly. Mah Tribe. Mah Pack.

Ain’t nothin’ mo’ impo’tant den dem.

I’m standin’ hea, watchin’ mah fam’ly from tha backyard porch. Nika tumblin’ an’ wrestlin’ wit’ @IndigenousHowls, swearin’ up an’ down she gon’ git ‘em on tha ground one day. @HerCajunFlame got ha feet in tha water, starin’ off at tha horizon. Nico by ‘im an’ BJ back house, workin’ on his latest bike. Dat boy betta not git no oil on mah mah ground. @LoyalMasochist in tha kitchen cookin’ up som’thin’ dat smell too damn gud ta’ jus’ be food.

I crack open anotha Guinness wit’ mah teeth an’ spit tha cap in tha trash nex’ ta’ me. @LoyalMasochist na’ ‘bout uh second lata come suckin’ ha teeth as she walk by me.

“One of these days you’re gonna crack a tooth. So damn hard-headed. Open it like normal person, Lie.”

“Luh yah too, Z.”

Throwin’ ha wink as she suck ha teeth again an’ roll ha pretty lil’ eyes at me, I head back in when I hea mah baby sis yellin’ she brought som’ shrimp étouffée fa’ dinna an’ uh new lil’ girlfriend. I shake mah laughin’.

“Chea on tha menu too? O’ nah?”

“I’ma slap yah, ‘Tiste. Keep yah paws off mah girl.”

I roll mah eyes as she come kiss mah cheek an’ introduce me ta’ tha latest, nameless chick who ain’t gon’ exist come nex’ week. Bu’ I smile an’ be polite ‘o course. Bu’ wha’ make me laugh hard as shi’, Desi pull out uh bea from tha fridge an’ open tha shit jus’ like me. I can damn’nea hea mah wif’ lose ha shit.

“Gahdamn! What’s wrong with you two?!”

“Awww, Zelly… I fa’got how much yah hate dat.”

We both crackin’ up ‘cos she’on’t care how much @LoyalMasochist hate it an’ she know it. Bu’ ta’ make mattas worse, Desi spit tha metal top inta’ tha trash jus’ like I do too. Dat’s when Z gih up an’ walk off, goin’ ta’ talk ta’ Nicky wif’ an’ pretend none uf us really hea.

“She gon’ kick yah ass, Desi.”

“She gon’ kick both ou’ asses, ‘Tiste.”

“I know…”

We both laugh. Wit’ tha holidays jus’ ‘round tha cornah, I been thankin’ hard ‘bout whea we at as uh fam’ly, uh tribe, an’ ua pack. @LoyalMasochist been whisperin’ in mah ear ‘bout thangs she been hearin’ from tha otha wif’s, girlfriends, an’ so has Desi. Dey tell us wha’ me, Nicky, an’ Napalm cain’t a’ways git from tha co’munity.

Tha las’ yea an’ uh half been filled wit’ mendin’ an’ makin’ bonds wit’ fam’ly, tha Eldas uf ou’ tribes, an’ tha mambas uf ou’ packs. None uf it been easy, bu’ tha hardest mendin’ been wit’ mah own fam’ly, mah cubs. Tha untrigga’d ones. I’on’t know ‘im like I kno’ Nika an’ BJ, so tryin’ ta’ get ta’ kno’ who dey are on uh day ta’ day, an’ not jus’ on tha full moon been hard. Harda den any fatha should hafta’ deal wit’.  Bu’ e’vn @IndigenousHowls, he d’fferent adjustin’ ta’ bein’ uh man mo’ den uh wolf. Nika tha mos’ well-adjusted despite e’vrythang she went tru—tho ha lil’ tempa ain’t no joke. I thank ‘cos she got ta’ be ‘round us in d’fferent forms, dat tha othas couldn’t—she uh lil’ betta den ha sistas an’ brothas. Tommy I couldn’t gih two fucks ‘bout much, bu’ Nico, @HerCajunFlame, an’ me still gotta ways ta’ go. Nico comin’ ‘round. Slowly, bu’ it’s happenin’. NeeNee, I ain’t rea’ly gotta gud read on, yet. Chea in ha head a lot, like me. An’ ha books, like ha mama. I gotta figa out tha way ta’ get ha talkin’ an’ get ha an’ ha mama ta’ talkin’. @LoyalMasochist had ta’ lea NeeNee not ta’ long afta she was born an’ dat broke mah wife in mo’ ways den one. Chea barely had uh yea wit’ ha befo’ tha curse kicked back in. I’on’t thank dey eva gon’ recova from tha loss uf all dem yeas.

Bu’ it ain’t jus’ us.

All tha cursed wolves been dealin’ wit’ fam’lies in shambles, broken apart, an’ fa’ som’, unmendable. We was lucky dat Aubrey, Z big sista, an’ ha husband could take in ou’ cubs while we couldn’t. Dey was tha day ta’ day mama an’ daddy dey needed an’ I’ll a’ways be grateful fa’ dat. Not e’vrybody had dat opshun. E’vn tho many uf tha untrigga’d in ou’ tribes took in cubs uf otha kin, some still fell tru tha cracks. Ended up in fosta care o’ wors’. Fa’ ou’ tribe, dis was real bad since we was disowned from tha res’ uf dem.

We was cursed fa’ uh decade. All dat’s been broken ain’t gon’ be fix’d ova nigh’. Uh shi’ty realizashun I dun’ had ova tha las’ yea na. Months an’ months uf us all tryna get back ta’getha an’ on tha same page ta’ move forward’s been nothin’ bu’ hell on wheels. Bu’ den, anythang wit’ us wolves a’ways is. Tha o’ly thang gud ‘bout bein’ newly freed, many uh men lookin’ fa’ work. Hard ta’ find uh job dat undastand yah can’t be dere bu’ one o’ two nigh’s uf tha month. Wolf-owned bus’nesses bein’ rebuilt wit’ ou’ own paws an’ thrivin’ on ou’ own m’ney. Bu’ outside tha bus’ness, tha laws uf tribes an’ tha way uf ou’ livin’ ain’t as easy ta’ come ta’ ‘greements on. None uf ‘em seem ta’ git on tha same page long enuf ta’ ‘gree on whea ta’ take us all from hea. In-fightin’s tha whole reason we was vulnerable ta’ tha vamp’s witch-bitch’s curse ova uh decade ago anyway. If we banded as one, no fanga woulda been able ta’ take us on. Not e’vn one wit’ uh witch ta’ do his biddin’. Mah pack had nothin’ ta’ do wit’ any uf dat. Too busy sellin’ powda an’ pills befo’ tha shi’ hit tha radar on uh Na’shunal scale. Mah mind was on makin’ m’ney fa’ mah fam’ly. Nothin’ mo’, nothin’ less. We fell prey ‘cos uf tha Crescents an’ Guerrera’s an’ dey bul’shit wit’ tha fangas. Fuckin’ idjits. Uh curse’on’t discriminate. Bu’ we gotta pick up tha pieces jus’ tha same.

E’vn tho mah Pack’s in line, tha othas got some comin’ ‘round ta’ do. Some packs re’dy an’ willin’ ta’ gravel at tha feet uf tha Hybrid while tha res’ uf us ain’t hea fo’ it. Me an’ @LoyalMasochist an’ ou’ pack damn sho’ ain’t hea fa’ it. I ain’t lookin’ ta’ be nobody’s lil’ bitch. I’on’t gih uh fuck who he is o’ whea his bloodline come from. He ain’t tha architect uf mah fam’ly. He jus’ anotha muthafucka tryna con’trol us. Jus’ anotha way idjits lettin’ outsidas break us ‘part. It’on’t make no sense we keep repeatin’ ol’ habits dat’ll get us killed. E’vn tho e’vrybody thank I’ma beast, ‘dere ain’t nothin’ I care mo’ ‘bout den mah Fam’ly, mah Tribe, an’ mah Pack.

“Penny for your thoughts, papa?”

@LoyalMasochist’s lil’ voice snaps me outta mah thoughts. I lean mah elbows down on tha porch railin’ an’ search ha eyes, starin’ back at me.

“Mm... Tell me yahs an’ I’ll tell yah mine, chea…”

Ha face tell me she know ‘xactly what I mean. “Nothin’ ta’ say, chea?” She keep quiet, worryin’ ha bo’tom lip. I kiss ha nose an’ go back ta’ drankin’ mah bea. It’s been uh long yea fo’ us all.

E’vn ha an’ me…

____

[©Post to @BestialSadist: 11-12-17]

Part 2:

Grimancin’ wit’ creased brows, I hiss at tha stink uf tha cow’ard hangin’ by uh noose an’ beggin’ fa’ mercy in fronta me. His tiptoes touchin’ tha chair unda him jus’ enuf so he’on’t hang ‘imself. -Yet.- He ain’t got long fo’ I kick tha chair from unda ‘im jus’ ta’ watch ‘im strangle ta’ death ‘cos I’m fuckin’ bored uf his bul’shit. I dun poured wolfsbane down his throat ta’ watch tha herb burn through his flesh an’ beat tha shit outta ‘im so e’vry gappin’ gash an’ jagged cut ‘on’t heal so quick while tryna. He ain’t tha firs’ eitha. ‘Bout eight uf his packmembas hangin’ upside down in tha otha room, dead, ‘cos dey ain’t gimmie tha ansas I wanted ta’ hea. Tha name uf dey supplia. Dis’ere pack’s been rackin’ up m’ney lef’ an’ righ’ wit’ rumas uf workin’ fo’ uh new deala in town. Sumbody tryna come fa’ mah ter’tory. Who dat deala is, nobody seem ta’ know so I pay uh visit ta’ tha capo’s, tha Deepwata Pack, ta’ see ‘bout dis’ere mystery guy. Bu’ when we showed up ta’ dis’ere saf’house I caught uh glimpse uf sumthin’ el’se. Sumthin’ mo’ pressin’ den m’ney feuds.

Zak guardin’ tha do’ from tha inside, uh few guys guardin’ outside, an’ Nicky an’ Napalm standin’ behin’ me as I stare dis’ere so-called Alpha face ta’ face.

“So, tell me, dipshit, ‘cos I’m losin’ wha’ lil’ pat’ence I got left an’ seein’ as half yah guys a’ready dead, I ain’t start wit’ much. Whea yah git dis’ere man jew’lry from? Yah’on’t look lika faggot.”

I hol’up his ring fanga in front uf ‘im. I cut it off ‘cos he got dis’ere ring on wit’ uh lil’ dark stone thas givin’ his Pack tha ‘bility ta’ use tha powa uf dey wolves e’vn when dey ain’t shif’ted. Sumthin’ o’ly mah kind can do. Sumthin’ mah kind was exiled fo’. I got dat much outta his dead Pack, ‘least. Firs’ it was jus’ rumas on tha grapevine dat Weres was changin’, gainin’ powas like us outlaws. Nobody was claimin’ it ta’ be true o’ na, so we ignored it neva thankin’ it could re’ly be true. Bu’ ta’day, I seen it wit’ mah own eyes. We all did. Dis’ere Deepwata Alpha down in tha bayou wit’ his pack, shiftin’ parts uf dey body in broad daylight fa’ anybody nosin’ ‘round hea ta’ see. Dey ain’t e’vn see us lurkin’ ‘round. Dis shit’s real an’ uh threat ta’ mah bloodline. If tha Powas dat be get dey hands on sumthin’ dat make ‘em match us, wha’s ta’ stop ‘em from tryna take us all out….-A’gin.- Dat includes e’vrybody who ‘ligned wit’ us too....Like mah wif’ an’ cubs.

“It don’t...don’t matter where...we got it from. This is…for protection. You gon’ keep...killing your own….kind for us choosing…to protect ourselves?!”

Tha mo’ tha cow’ard stuttas an’ whimpas, tha mo’ I’m gettin’ a’noyed. Don’t nothin’ piss me off mo’ den uh spin’less wolf. I migh’ be’uh liar, cheata, an’ e’vn uh killa, bu’ I ain’t neva an’ will eva be uh fuckin’ cow’ard. I feel tha golden eyes uf mah beast flash pass mine an’ I kno’ I cain’t hol’ ‘im back too much longa.

“Traitas ain’t mah kind, muthafucka. An’ who yah so ‘fraid uf? Who yah protectin’ yah pack from? Yah new Boss? Whoeva dat is. Oh…I hope yah’on’t mean dat silly ass Hybrid-muthafucka. I’ll kill yah’ on pr’nciple if dat’s tha case.”

I still ain’t got no respect fa’ Mistah Do Wha’ I say O’ Watch Me Cry ‘Bout It. He ain’t tha maka uf mah bloodline o’ mos’ uf ou’s from down deep by tha Bayous. Bu’ Jimbo hea, see ‘em. He see mah eyes flash bright an’ know within uh s’cond wha’ I am. He’on’t gotta say nothin’, it’s written all ova his face. E’vn tho he strainin’ ta’ talk from tha pain uf his beatdown an’ cutoff body parts, hate an’ rage pulse in his bulgin’ eyes clea as day. If he wa’n’t hangin’ from tha ceilin’ he prolly be tryna take mah head off.

“Yeah…You’re right. You’re not -our- kind. BPC shunned you Scummoons from our packs decades ago. Why they didn’t kill you savages off like the Atakapas, none of us will ever fucking know. You cain’t begin to understand why we need this! Not that I gotta explain myself to you trash, but I made a decision to protect my pack. Give us control over who we are so it can’t be used against us ever again. -Period.- If we can’t protect ourselves, what’s the point of rebuilding our packs anyway?”

His anga an’ disgust’s all wrapped inta’ one. All shit I’m usedta’ an’ ‘on’t care ‘bout. I can undastand uh Alpha wantin’ ta’ protect his pack tho. Bu’ dis ain’t tha way ta’ do it an’ it sho’ ain’t help ‘im too much wit’ me hea an’ na.

“Dis’ere ain’t no protecshun, idjit. Dis’ control. I ain’t neva had it e’sy, from outsidas -an’- e’vn otha shiftas like yah’self. So, ‘on’t come talkin’ ‘bout protectin’ wha’s yahs ta’ me. Imagin’ havin’ ta’ protect yah’self from yah own kind, huntin’ yah fam’ly like wild dogs!”

Mah anga get da bes’ uf me an’ I hurl uh blow ta’ his lowa torso, righ’ ‘bout way uf his kidney. Tha one thang I a’ways had was control ova when tha ragin’ part uh me culd be let out his cage. Mos’ly. Sumthin’ most mah kind cain’t say, an’ tha v’ry reason tha LaPierre bloodline been stri’ped from ou’ rightful place in tha Bayou Pack Co’ncil. Ta’ be shunned mean tha Bloodmoons ain’t got no say in tha goings on uf tha Bayou tribes an’ Packs an’ tha roy’lty uf mah bloodline been seared ‘way since mah great, great, great-granddaddy was roamin’ dis’ere swamps. Prolly befo’. Searin’s uh ritual done ta’ tear ou’ connecshun from e’vry otha Bayou Pack an’ strip us uf ou’ connecshun ta’ tha F’rst Shamans. Ou’ own Ancestas an’ tha Firs’ uf Ou’ Kind. Dat come wit’ it’s own heep uh bul’shit. Mah mar’iage, cubs, an’ tribe ain’t re’ly recognized o’ real in’tha eyes uf BPC who still hol’ ta’ all dese ‘ol tradishuns an’ rules dat say mah blood’s tha scurge uf tha Earth. It’s like we hea bu’ ain’t hea.

Tha Eldas was jus’ too piss’d tha lycan gene ain’t sumthin’ dey culd get like all tha otha ‘bilities passed down in tha Were-lines. So wha’doyah do when yah want sumthin’ somebody else got an’ ain’t givin’ up? -Yah take it.- If dat’on’t work, yah make it sumthin’ -nobody- wants. Dat’s ‘xactly what dey did ta’ mah fam’ly all dem yea’s ago. Dey ain’t had tha powa ta’ take us on, bu’ dey had tha infl’ence ta’ make us invis’ble.

Tha Eldas say since all wolves gotta trigga tha wolf by murda, ta’ dem, uh way uh killin’ uh lil’ piece uf yah humanity ta’ let tha beast in, we must be mo’ beast den man, since we ain’t gotta kill ta’ let ou’ beast roam free. We must be nat’ral born killas den. So, dey outlawed lycans as tha one thang ev’rybody look down at an’ won’t be a’sociated wit’. Tha savages. Tha beasts. Tha -othas.- Tha thang ev’rybody too ‘fraid ta’ be, ‘cos ta’ dem, we sumthin’ dat ain’t so...human. Easiest way ta’ make e’vrybody okay wit’ hate? Make ‘em ‘fraid uf tha otha.

It’s tha ’merican way.

“Yeah… Uhhuh... I see it in your eyes. You’re thinking about it. You have the choice not to turn. You have the choice not to be broken. We don’t! We don’t have the choice not to be the savage beasts you are! By what shit-stain karma fuck up would you get such a choice, but decent people don’t?!”

E’en tho I ain’t neva felt like much, I ain’t neva felt like less fa’ bein’ wha’ I am––despite tha Eldas wantin’ us LaPierre’s an’ all those who share ou’ blood ta’ feel dat way. Bu’ so many sho’ try ta’ remind me we ain’t shit. E’vn when dey s’conds from stranglin’ dem’selves ta’ death. Thang is, tha one thang he want so gahdamn bad is tha re’son he see me lowa den tha horseshit he stepped in. Dey’d all luh ta’ hav’ ou’ powa bu’ not tha stigma ‘ttached ta’ it. Packs been hatin’ ma kind so lon’ dey’on’t kno’ why dey hate beyon’ tha lies dey tell demselves ‘bout us.

I ain’t moved tho. Still startin’ ‘im in tha eye. I clea mah throat an’ hawk spit righ’ ‘tween his eyes.

“Such uh fuckin’ cow’ard. Yah sicken me. It’s Packs like yah’s dat make it e’sy fa’ anybody ta’ take us down. Ta’ busy lookin’ out fa’ yah’gahdamnself. I say Pack ‘cos none uf ‘em stood ‘gainst yah bad choices. How yah’on’t undastand tha o’ly protecshun yah eva need is yah own kind?! Huh?! Not some outsida quick ta’ make yah turn on dem who got yah back mos’. Say wha yah wan’ ‘bout mah blood, I’d neva sell out mah Pack an’ make ‘em bitches ta’ wha’eva sucka yah made uh deal wit’. ‘Cos dat’s all dis lil’ magical man-jewel ‘ere is, uh fuckin’ leash fa’ all yah ta’ bow down. Na who gave it ta’ yah? Hm? I’on’t wanna hafta take out tha res’ uf yah pack ta make mah fuckin’ point. Try me if yah thank I’m bluffin’, Jimbo.”

Takin’ steps ova ta’ tha few uf his membas still breathin’ an’ standin’ ‘gainst tha wall, I grab anotha one uf ‘em by tha neck an’ yank ha esophagus from ha throat. Ha warm, bloody muscle still in mah palm when ha body crumbles ta’ tha ground.

“I kin keep goin’. One by one ‘til yah gih me wha’ I want. Up ta’ yah.” Uh sickenin’ smirk touch mah thin-lipped mug.

“Black Pines! They’re handing them out to any pack willing to take them!”

“Ugh.” Alls I can say… I shake mah head wit’ uh he’vy grunt, his revelashun bein’ tha v’ry thang I was hopin’ wa’n’t true. Strollin’ back ova ta’ ‘im, I grab his face wit’ mah bloody hand afta droppin’ ha throat on tha way ova. “I shoulda known it was dem. Whyah ain’t go ta’ tha Co’ncil ta’ stop dis’ere shit?! Band ta’getha ‘nstead uf signin’ up ta’ be tha Hybrid’s lit’le bitch?”

His face scrunch up an’ eyes bulge like I’m tha one missin’ sumthin’.

“You stupid inbred sack of shit! The Council -made- the deal!”

____

[©Post to @BestialSadist: 5-2-18]

Part 3:

“Lie…”

I hea mah wif’s sleepy voice comin’ from tha livin’ room an’ I kno’ tha sound uf chea when she been up worryin’ an’ wonderin’ whea I’m at. It’s uh d’fferent sound den when she jus’ wan’ some a’tenshun from me so she wait up ta’ talk ta’ me ‘bout mah day an’ ha’s. I’on’t kno’ why I thought I’d be able ta’ walk in mah house an’ na’ht be botha’d. It’s dumba den uh tick ona flea ta’ e’vn thank so. Dis’ w’man gotta fuckin’ sixth sense when it comes ta’ me, ha fam’ly, an’ ha cubs. I suck inna deep breath befo’ ansa’n ta’ mah name.

“Yea, chea? Yah ‘wake?” I kno’ chea is bu’ I’m gaugin’ ha state.

“Mhm. Where you been, Papa? And what’s that sm….” Chea bee-lines ‘round tha couch fa’ me, wearin’ ona mah black wif’beetas dat giv’me uh lil’ sideboob ac’shun from ha, some black shorts dat let ha lil’ booty hang ou’t, dark grey socks that reach tha top uf ha thighs, an’ ha furry grey an’ black wolf-claw house shoes chea luh so much. Wha’ dey call’at? Irony? Wit’ wha’ Z got on, if tha nex’ look on ha face wa’n’t wha’ it was an’ wha’ I knew it’d be, I’d expect dis’hea nigh’ ta’ go real d’ferent den it’s ‘bouta.

Stoppin’ in ha tracks soon as ha eyes land on me, chea ain’t gotta say uh word fa’ me ta’ kno’ whea ha mind go. Dat’s uh real thang ‘tween ma’ried folks, supan’tural o’ na’ht. Some shit jus’on’t needta’ be said. Some shit jus’ -shuldn’t- be said.

Ha head cocks ta’ tha side whil’ she grabs mah wrists o’ly showin’ me I’m righ’ ‘bout why chea stopped so hard an’ so fast. She smell it on me. I kno’ she do. Chea kno’ wha’ I dun wit’ou’t me sayin’ uh word. She’s carryin’ mah cub, so ha senses heightened e’vn mo’ den dat Babineaux w’man intuishun chea a’redy got. Notice I ain’t say mama ‘cos she had dat shi’ long fa’ she had mah firs’ cub. Bu’ fa’ Weres, dey’on’t get ta’ ‘xperience dey wolf powas in human form like us, ‘cept fa’ two ways. One, fa uh few days afta dey shift. An’ two, since dey’on’t turn whil’ dey carryin’, some uf dey senses rise ta’ tha surface durin’ dis’hea time. So it’on’t s’prise me chea kno’ I been up ta’ no good. I jus’ hoped she was sleep so I culd handle it befo’ she kno’ nuthin’.

Tuggin’ me ta’ tha kitchen by mah arm, chea’on’t touch mah black-gloved hands an’ make sho’ I’on’t touch nothin’ else. When we stop at tha sink, I lean ‘gainst tha counta an’ watch ha work. Z loads tha dishwasha, which chea’on’t eva use, wit’ tha leftova dishes an’ rinses tha sink ou’t ta’ fill tha brown granite wit’ hot wata an’ bleach.

“Arms up.” Chea grabs tha end uf mah dark, long-sleeve thermo ta’ pull it an’ tha gloves at tha ends off an’ I lean ova ta’ help ha pull it all offa me. “Pants too.”

I’on’t giv’ha no figh’ e’vn tho she got me undressin’ like she ‘bout ta’ send me ta’ bed wit’ no dinna. Theas uh joke somwhea in thea jus’ waitin’ ta’ be told. Bu’ na’ht righ’ na. I take off e’vrythang else bu’ mah black boxas whil’ chea grab uh trash bag ta’ stuff mah clothes all in. “Put your ring in the bowl right there and then hands in the water. I’ll be back.”

I do as I’m told’, lettin’ tha sterlin’ silver clink ‘gainst tha glass bowl an’ watchin’ ha retreat back whea I jus’ come from. Dis’ tha wif’ mos’on’t kno’ so much. -Q.- Tha w’man who was by mah side when I went from dope deala ta’ top uf tha food chain, o’ some wuld say, from ‘Tiste ta’ Tha Beast. Chea kno’ all mah secrets an’ jus’ ‘bout e’vrythang I’on’t say.

Befo’ I kno’ it I hea tha low hum uf tha washa kick in an’ I drop mah head down an’ push mah hands inta’ tha hot wata. It’s scoldin’ lik’ mah wif’s tryna sear mah skin off mah bones bu’ it’on’t botha me much.

Mah mind’s stuck on wha’ dat Alpha said. Tha Co’ncil sol’d us ou’ ta’ tha fuckin’ Hybrid.

-A’gin.-

Well, na’ht -us- ‘cos we shunned an’ I wuldn’t bow ta’ tha fuckin’ claw’d fanga if it meant tha end uf mah life. Som’body needta’ sho’ blondie wha’ real wolves ou’hea made uf an’ tha Co’ncil ain’t it. Ratha yah bury me in tha grave fo’ I let’cha make me uh fuckin’ slave. Dey made tha rest uf tha Packs, ‘leas dem dumb enuf ta’ take tha bait lika dick down dey throat, turn bitch fa’ ‘im -a’gin.- Thankin’ ‘is protectshun gon’ save ‘em from his need ta’ dominate ‘em. Fuckin’ idjits. Anybody kno’ uh Mikaelson deal a’ways come wit’uh price an’ dey neva tha ones payin’ fa’ shi’. How culd mah wif’ wan’me ta’ go crawlin’ back ta’ tha Bayou Pack Co’ncil uf C’wards? Ta’ be recognized by dem? Fa’ dem ta’ tell me mah claws o‘ficial an’ mah cubs a’cepted by dem weak an’ hateful fucks? If we was part uf dem, we’d be sol’d ou’t righ’ na ta’! Fuck dat!

I’m yellin’ in mah head. Yellin’ ta’ tha darkness.

Tha thoughts pissin’ me off all ova a’gin, remindin’ me why I neva gav’ uh fuck fa’ dem nah’t a’ceptin’ mah fam’ly name e’vn though it’s as old as dea’s. I’on’t feel mah’self growlin’ ‘til I look up at mah reflec’shun in tha kitchen windo an’ see tha fiery gold glow in mah eyes.

“Our girls are upstairs sleeping, Lie.”

Ha hands graze ova mah arms as she slips ha’self besides me at tha sink an’ grabs tha metal wire brillo pad she use fa tha pots. I ain’t e’vn kno’ chea was thea. She’on’t look up at me, she stare at mah golden glare in tha window.

“Lemme scrub just a little then you go run and we talk when you come back or we can just talk.” Z presses ha cheek ‘gainst mah bare shulda as she starts ta’ scrubbin’ mah fangas unda tha bleach-filled wata. “You hear me?”

I nod, tha anga seepin’ as ha hands trail mah heated flesh. “You already know my rules but whatever you need to do to get yourself together, Lie. -Do it.- I don’t want them seeing you like this.”

“In my….” Z pinches me an’ I growl down at’ha, mo’ jokin’ den anythang.

“If you say ‘in my draws,’ I’m gonna punch you in tha throat. You know what I mean.” She sucks ha teeth at me an’ I kno’ I’m on thin ice an’ close ta’ ha poppin’ me one.

“Dea ain’t much ta’ say, chea.”

“Mhm. I’m scrubbing your hands in bleach. There’s plenty to say, Lie.”

Dat’s three times chea done said mah name in less den uh few minutes an’ I ain’t fuckin’ ha.

I sigh. I knew I’d hafta’ say somthin’ so I go wit’ tha easiest. I tell ha tha truth an’ nuthin’ bu’ tha truth. E’vrythang ‘bout Deepwata shiftin’ wit’ou tha Moon, tha co’ncil sellin’ us ou’, -a’gin-, na’ht o’ly ta’ tha fuckin’ Hybrid bu’ ta’ tha Acandian Bayou Packs ta’, tha packs lurkin’ ‘round an’ passin’ ou’ rangs like dey candy, an’ e’vn tha mess we left in dey Deepwata double-wide. We ain’t get ridda tha whol’ Pack bu’ we took ou’ tha cocksucka’s inna circle. Lef’ one ta’ go back an’ tell tha Co’ncil an’ dey new lil’ alliances dat na’ht e’vrybody wanna be no slaves ta’ tha fuckin’ fangas. Bu’ I leav’ ou’ tha part ‘bout tha Black Pines bein’ part uf dis’hea. Tha same pack who’s Alpha I killed an’ took in ‘is pack. I’on’t kno’ how tha pack’s e’vn rebuildin’ bu’ I’on’t wan’ha worried ‘bout any uf dat’dea ‘cos dat’s uh whol’ heep uf shi’ chea’on’t need on ha head.

I cain’t.

Judgin’ by tha blank stare on ha face, chea ain’t b’lievin’ uh word I’m sayin’ ta’ ha. An’ I kno’ why. Ha fatha’s tha Chief uf tha Bayou Pack Co’ncil an’ e’vn though ha an’ ‘im ain’t seen eye ta’ eye fa’ yea’s, chea still uh daddy’s g’rl at heart. Mo’ den chea’d eva let anybody kno’. Yah cain’t tell ha nothin’ ‘bout ‘im. No matta how much chea call ‘em by ‘is firs’ name behin’ ‘is back. Ta’ thank he uh traita ta’ his kind an’ workin’ wit’ tha Arc’s jus’ migh’ be ta’ much fa’ ha ta’ take righ’ na’. Tha man chea won’t me ta’ go gravel ta’ is tha same man sellin’ us ou’ ta’ tha highest bidda so dey can do ‘xactly wha’ he spit in mah face fo’: control tha wulf inside.

Bu’ I guess since it’s -us,- it’s d’fferent.

“You come in my house, filthy with whoever you’ve killed tonight, probably dismembered, and you’re saying my father’s a traitor? My father’s an asshole and so much more but a traitor? Even I won’t let you spread lies like that on my damn name.”

I suck in uh deep breath an’ stare at mah wif’. Did chea jus’ say -mah name.-

“Yah name, eh?” I cain’t stop tha sarcastic laugh dat come ou’ mah mouf mo’ ta’ stop me from goin’ off on mah pregnant damn wif’. “Ar’yah fuckin’ s’rious? I’ma ‘sume yah harmones on some otha shi’ righ’ na.”

Ha eyes widen an’ I cain’t help bu’ stare righ’ back at’ha. How culd chea think I’d lie ta’ ha, ‘specially ‘bout ha daddy. “Since when I lie ta’ yah ‘bout’cha fam’ly? Hm? When -tha fuck- hav’ I -eva- lied ta’ yah ‘bout yah daddy?” Chea jus’ stare hard at me, chewin’ ha bottom lip. “Huh? I cain’t fuckin’ hea yah, Z. -When?-” I’m growlin’, tryin’ na’ht ta’ wake up mah g’rls.

“Never.”

I lean in, pushin’ mah ear ha way. “Say dat ‘gin, I still’on’t fuckin’ hea yah, Zelda.”

“Never, you ass!” Chea shoves me so hard mah back hits tha dishes on tha counta makin’ uh glass fall in tha empty side uf tha sink an’ shatta. Chea jump at’tha sound uf tha glass breakin’ an’ I narro mah eyes. I kno’ it ain’t me chea mad at bu’ I cain’t hol’ mah tongue. Na’ht righ’ na’.

“I ain’t fuckin’ thank so. So, why tha fuck wuld I start na’? Dis’hea wha’ tha Deepwata fucka tol’ me hangin’ upside down fa’ ‘is life an’ it’on’t seem like he was lyin’. Ain’t no way somthin’ lik’ some fuckin’ rangs dat control yah whol’ ass shift gon’ be somthin’ dat’on’t get back ta’ tha co’ncil. Ta’ -yah- fuckin’ daddy!” I point uh wet, accusin’ fanga in ha face. “Yah fuckin’ kno’ it an’ I fuckin’ kno’ it. E’vn if yah daddy ain’t make tha deal, he in on it some way. Swallo dat fuckin’ pill.”

I push off tha kitchen counta, waggin’ mah soapy hands like crazy ova tha sink ‘til tha extra wata gon’ an’ I grab uh few papa towels ta’ dry ‘em off sommo’. It cain’t be easy ta’ hea none uf dis’hea an’ I kno’ it. Mah decishun ta’ leav’ ou’ tha part uf tha Black Pines jus’ feels e’vn mo’ righ’. Chea turn on tha wata, risnin’ off ha own hands.

In s’lence.

I suck inna deep breath an’ toss tha papa towels in tha trash. Mah claws scratchin’ at mah insides, tryin’ta’ rip through tha surface an’ I kno’ it ain’t good fa’ me ta’ be cooped up righ’ na’.  I’m fuckin’ pissed tha fuck off an’ I kno’s betta if I take dat run befo’ I say somthin’ I’on’t mean. Mah lycan’s growlin’ at me ta’ go ou’chea an’ get me some air.

“Fuck dis’hea.”

Betta I lis’sen na’ den regret it lata.

Na’, mah ears get hot an’ mah feet’on’t wanna move. It’s lika call deep inside me dat stop me in mah tracks as hard as chea did when I walked in tha house. I sigh. Hard. Noe flared an’ chest heavin’ an’ slowly goin’ down as mah anga tries ta’ calm itself e’vn befo’ I realize why. Z wipes ha face an’ rubs ha belly. I jus’ ‘bout hea mah wif’s tea’rs rollin’ down ha face as chea wobbles fa’ tha sink, prolly ta’ pick up tha broken pieces.

____

[©Post to @BestialSadist: 4-22-20]

Part 4:

“Z…” 

Chea ignore me an’ go fa’ tha broken glass bu’ I’m on’ha fasta den tha next tea’r can roll down ha face. Grab’n ha hands an’ stoppin’ ha befo’ chea cut ha’self ‘cos she upset. I kno’ wha’ I tol’ ha ain’t e’sy ta’ hea bu’ I ain’t expect dis’hea.

“-Zelda.-”

I say ha full name whil’ I’m starrin’ at ha ta’ make ha look up at me. Bu’ chea’on’t. She’on’t e’vn budge. E’vn when I say ha full name.

“Z.”

I brang ha fangatips ta’ mah lips an’ kiss ‘em. I let all tha mad leav’ mah voice an’ say ha name a’gin. “Z…”

Chea f’nally look up at me. Red an’ puffy a’redy. It’on’t take much fa’ mah wif’ ta’ go red bu’ dis’hea d’ferent. I can count on one hand how many times I seen dis’hea much hurt in ha eyes. It’s a’ways had ta’ do wit’ ou’r cubs o’ wit’ ha fuckin’ Daddy. It’s uh d’ferent kinda hurt den when I’ve hurt ha bein’ som’ kinda young, dumb ass. Fuckin’ ‘round o’ worse.

“I’m s’ry, chea. I’ma dumbass.” I wrap ha arms ‘round mah neck an’ res’ mah head ‘gainst ha head an’ whispa. “I wa’n’t tryna hurt’cha, Z. Yah kno’ dat.”

I wa’n’t. I ain’t neva tryna hurt mah wif’. Eva. Bu’ wha’ I was -tryna- do an’ wha’ I -did’s- two d’ferent thangs. Mah wif’ can ice yah ou’ wit’ tha best uf ‘em bu’ righ’na I need’ha ta’ talk ta’ me.

“Z…”

Chea snatch ha hands from mine, scowlin’ an’ wipin’ ha eyes wit’ tha back uf ha hand. Walkin’ backwards ‘way from me, it’s clea chea wan’ha space bu’ I follo ha an’way ‘til chea giv’me ha death stare dat tell me ta’ fuck off. Chea ain’t tryna ta’ talk ta’ me. Chea’on’t turn ha back on me ‘til she kno’ I’m na’ht followin’ ha. Dea’s times when mah wif’ wan’s me ta’ folla an’ console ha, bu’ dis’hea ain’t one uf dem times.

Leanin’ ‘gainst tha sink, I sigh an’ grip tha counta lik’ I wanna break tha goddamn edge off. I fuckin’ migh’. Bu’ I migh’ hava bigga figh’ on mah hands if I do. I go ou’back ta’ tha laundry room fa’ some sweats o’ somthin’. Hopin’ I find somthin’ still hidin’ in tha baskets since mah wif’ been quick on tha puttin’ stuff back, I lis’sen fa’ Z ta’ close tha do’ behin’ ha ‘cos if chea’on’t slam tha do’, chea wants me ta’ folla ha. I ain’t got high hopes tho. Tha cut from ha ice still openin’ mah flesh deep.

When I find uh pair uf mah tan linen pants, I pull ‘em on an’ tie tha draw strang, hearin’ mah bedroom doh slam shut an’ rattle tha pictuas on tha wall ‘long tha stairs.

“I need ta’ go tha fuck ou’side.”

Dis’hea ain’t wha’ I want’d ta’ come home ta’. I ain’t tryna be fightin’ mah wif’ ova ha fuckin’ traita ass daddy. Tryin’ na’ht ta’ slam tha do’ behin’ me, I head ou’ back an’ stare at’tha sky. Tha chill air on mah skin ain’t enuf ta’ stop mah blood from boilin’. E’vry bone in mah body’s on tha verge uf breakin’ bu’ I suck in som’ fresh air an’ fuckin’ fight tha urge ta’ howl at’tha goddamn moon. Mah wif’s prolly upstairs cryin’ an’ stabin’ uh pictura uf me ‘cos I jus’ shatta’d ha. I fuckin’ hate dat I cain’t lie ta’ ha eitha. Na’ht ‘bout all dis’hea. Dat trip up ta’ tha cabins seem so far ‘way righ’na an’ I’m wishin’ we was back in dat bliss. Dat quiet. Dem nights uf jus’ us wit’ no cares in tha world.

I rest mah arms on top uf mah head, lockin’ mah fangas an’ tryna calm tha fuck down. I feel tha growl sneak up in mah ches’ befo’ it com’ an’ I cain’t stop it. Na’ht e’vn if I try ta’ bu’ I’on’t. I let’mah growl turn ta’ uh howl dat rattles tha windos an’ mah dogs start barkin’ dea head’s off. 

“Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.”

Groanin’ an’ droppin’ mah head back, I got half’uh mind ta’ head up ta’ tha bedroom anyway. Bu’ befo’ I e’vn mov’ uh inch I see yah starin’ down at me from ou’ balcony. Yah bloodshot eyes lockin’ wit’ mah glowin’ glare. I see yah shakin’ from down hea an’ I’on’t care no mo’ if yah wan’ me dea o’ na’ht. Runnin’ back in tha house an’ lockin’ up behin’ me, I take tha stairs two an’ three atta time ta’ get ta’ yah. Pausin’ when I get ta’ tha clos’d do’, fa’ uh s’cond, I wava back an’ forth if I should go in o’ na’ht. Open o’ ‘on’t?

I open it lik’uh bull inna China shop, closin’ it behin’ me wit’ou’ no hes’tashun ‘cos I’on’t wanna wake tha g’rls.

“Z…”

I’on’t kno’ wha’ I expect ta’ see bu’ I ain’t thank yah’d be sittin’ on tha bed. “Chea…Talk ta’ me.”

“There isn’t anything to talk about.”

Silent tre’tment’s ova? Leas’ chea’s talkin’ ta’ me. I ain’t expect ha ta’ say nothin’ leas’ wit’ou’ sommo beggin’. “Bullshi’, dea’s uh lot ta’ talk ‘bout.”

“You tell me my father’s sold the wolves out to that son of a bitch and what? You want me to give you my analysis on it? Would you like that paper typed or handwritten?” Tha base in ha voice sends mah blood pressha sky-high a’gin. I suck in uh deep breath befo’ I say somthin’ I regret ta’ ha. Dis’hea yah wif’. Chea mad. Chea hurt. Dis’hea’s yah wif’.

I suck in anotha deep breath an’ drag mah hands down mah face. “I ain’t lookin’ fa’ yah analyze nothin’, chea. I jus’ wanna kno’ whea yah mind’s at. Yah wa’n’t e’vn believin’ me uh few s’conds ago.”

“I still don’t know if I do. There might be another explanation to this. Torturing people doesn’t always get the right answers to things.”

I roll mah eyes, feelin’ on edge righ’ na. Dis’hea tha irrashunal part uf mah wif’ comin’ ou’. Dat part dat’s wearin’ ha heart on ha sleeve ‘cos chea’on’t wanna b’lieve wha’ I’m tellin’ ha. I get it. It ain’t e’sy ta’ hea dat yah daddy an’ tha res’ uf tha Co’uncil’s uh pack uf fuckin’ c’wards. Dis’ I a’redy knew bu’ chea still b’elive in ‘em. Mo’ den I eva will. Ain’t no way tha res’ uf dem’on’t kno’ wha’s ha’pened an’ I kno’ dey went wit’ dis’hea decishun from tha Chief. Dat jus’ ain’t how tha packs work. I’on’t needta’ be wit’em ta’ kno’ dat.

Sittin’ on tha lounge an’ claspin’ mah hands ta’getha whil’ I tryta’ lis’sen ta’ ha wit’ open ears an’ na’ht tha anga risin’ in mah chest. Why wuld I fuckin’ lie ta’ yah? I swallo dat an’ say nothin’ instead. It’s betta dat way. Betta ta’ lis’sen.

“Hm. I guess it’s quiet time now.” I grind mah teeth an’ stare daggas at’ha. “You had so much to say before, why so quiet now? Hm? Not sure if you’re right or if I am?”

“Zelda, ‘on’t shoot tha fuckin’ messenga. I was jus’ as shock’d as yah’re. Wuld yah ratha I fuckin’ lie ta’ yah? Huh?”

Ha eyes roll cold bu’ ha tongue cuts me lik’uh blade righ’ou’ tha fire dat forges it. “Wouldn’t be the first fucking time.”

____

[©Post to @BestialSadist: 7-20-20]