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nachohypno · 4 years

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Nate and Dave Ch. 3

Back at my house, mom was already off to work. Which meant, the whole house for me and my new jock pet to play.

As soon as we got to my room, I grabbed the bowser collar and told him to stand straight and don’t move.

He obeyed without a second thought, waiting for me to give him his new gift. I buckled the collar around his neck, and looked up at him “Comfortable?”

Again, he moved his neck a few times, then nodded “Perfect, bro. Thanks so much”

He pulled me in for another make out session, and I took the chance to feel up his muscled body. I wondered if he had special metabolism due to his supernatural nature, or if he killed himself working out at the gym.

I also noticed he was already rock hard again. Made sense, I didn’t let him cum yesterday. I still didn’t want to have sex with him, I didn’t feel that romantically involved with him to engage in a sexual relationship.

But… I had an idea.

I controlled his mind too, and I triggered his werewolf transformation yesterday. I wondered what else I could do with that?

“Strip to your underwear and lay down on the bed” I said, as soon as we broke the kiss.

He did as I told, and revealed once again his beautifully trained body, before laying on my bed and waiting for more orders like a happy puppy.

“Turn into a werewolf once again” His smile faded and his eyes glazed over, as he entered the morphing process once again. His body hair growing into fur again.

Ears going in and being replaced by a pair of wolf ears at the top of his head. His head also morphing with a wolf snout appearing at the bottom half of it.

Eyes and pupils growing bigger, brows growing larger. Nails replaced by claws and the palm of his hands gaining the usual paw pods.

His already chiseled body getting more built and muscled than before, as the werewolf jock grew bigger and larger in size.

A tail appeared above his butt cheeks, and his now bigger cock tried to escape from the underwear, with the pink head being visible.

As he finished his transformation, his expression started to return to his face. But before he could wake up completely I said “Remain in this relaxed trance state”

His eyes glazed over again, as the wolf guy stared straight to the ceiling. I didn’t think it would work, I thought the “you control my mind” part was just a decoration for what it really was.

I was wrong, apparently. I did control his mind too.

I took a step back and admired him. An athletic werewolf jock, under my control and entranced on my bed.

May as well start with the toying around, right?

I climbed on the bed and laid beside him. I made his head rest on my chest, as I scratched his hair.

“How does that feel, Davey?”

“Good…” He mumbled. I found it hot. I mean, this zonked out state he was in. Was it like movies or TV shows were he would do everything I told him?

I mean, he would do everything I told him in his normal state, it shouldn’t be much different. Just some glazed eyes, monotone voice and a dumber-than-usual smile.

I was wondering something. “What do you think of me? Do you like having me as your soulmate?” Those questions were kind of eating me up from the inside. What if he was actually unhappy and suffered every second he spent with me?

That was probably my anxiety speaking, but it would be good to know.

“I like you… I notice you’re nervous all the time, but that’s cute… and I like to think that… I can protect you… like a good soulmate…” Aww, he really was a wholesome wolfie! He wasn’t done though, he finished his opinion of me with a nice “I love you…”

I moved my hand and rubbed his fur-covered abs and chest. It felt good, and he seemed to like it too.

Funny enough, he started lightly kicking the air as I kept rubbing. He seemed to act more like a dog the longer I was with him.

“Who’s a good puppy? Who’s a good puppy boy?” I said, playfully.

“I am, bro! I’m a good puppy boy!” He said. Still sounding zoned out, but managed to get a bit of excitement on his voice.

I noticed his cock was still trying to escape from his underwear, and was leaking a bit of pre by now.

I decided to play a bit with that, too. Just to have a better taste of my control over the jock.

If you told me I would be doing this, controlling one of the hottest guys of my school. Who is also a werewolf who is bonded to me, I would certainly not believe you and walk away.

This was crazy, but I was sure loving every fucking second of it.

“Get up, puppy boy” I whispered to his pointy ear.

The big werewolf jock did as I told, getting up from the bed and turning to me, waiting for more commands probably.

His glazed over eyes made him look hotter, for some reason. Hah, funny. I think I may have a domination fetish.

The bowser collar also looked good on him. As I mentioned before, he looked just like a human-sized teddy bear, really cute and somehow really hot, knowing that he’s actually a jock in love with me.

“Take off your underwear, puppy boy”

He reached down to it and pulled it off quickly, standing back at attention as soon as he finished.

“Grab your cock and give it a few strokes as you flex the other arm” I commanded.

He didn’t hesitate to obey, stroking his cock while lifting his other arm, flexing his big biceps.

I got up too, and walked to his side. I grabbed his bicep and squeezed it a bit. “Are you a good puppy boy?”

“Yeah bro… I’m a good puppy boy…” He mumbled in complete bliss. His dumb smile growing with each stroke. He was happy to obey, I assumed.

I let go of his bicep and moved to one of his pecs, groping it. While feeling up his muscled back with my other hand. “Are you my good puppy boy?”

He nodded, as he kept stroking “I’m your good puppy boy…”

I kissed his cheek, which was kind of difficult because of his smile and… the whole snout thing.

“Good puppy boy, keep stroking until you cum. And when you do, you will wake up and turn back to human. Understood?”

“Yeah, bro…” He said, still in a monotone voice.

“And also, every time I snap my fingers, you will compliment me differently every time, understood?”

He nodded “Yeah…”

I laid back on my bed as I enjoyed the show my good puppy boy was putting on for me. The horny werewolf kept jerking off in front of me, like nothing else mattered.

I thought about, I don’t know, getting on my knees in front of him and sucking him off? But it would feel bad doing that when he was tranced like this. Like, I mentioned how I wouldn’t like being raped at school by him, well he probably wouldn’t like the same thing happening to him in my room.

...Or he would actually like it, because of the soulmate thing, but it’s still a fucked-up thing.

I stopped thinking about that, and pulled out my own cock, starting to stroke too. Unlucky me, he came first.

He shot a BIG load at the floor. I was quite surprised about it, but his transformation started, drawing my attention back to the big guy.

His fur started to disappear as his body turned back to human. Paw pods disappeared, claws turned back to human nails. Head turned back to normal, with the pointy ears being replaced by normal ears and the snout disappearing completely.

His body also got smaller, but not much though. He was still a big, muscled guy, so there wasn’t much of a difference.

Once he finished with his transformation, he blinked a few times, waking up from his trance.

“Bro…” He started. I wondered what would he say. I wondered if he would be mad with me for using him as some kind of pleasure puppet, or puppy boy toy. Or a slave, if you prefer. “…you are the BEST!”

“Wait, what?” I was kind of sure he wouldn’t like what happened and I already thought of a command to make him okay with it.

“That felt amazing! And I loved doing what you told me!” He’s the submissive type, apparently.

He climbed on the bed and laid beside me, pulling me to another one of his gentle make out sessions before I could actually react. I didn’t complain though.

He grabbed my cock and gently stroked it with his big hand as he continued with the kiss. It felt so good, letting him pleasure me.

I let him do that, since I haven’t been able to cum yet. He broke the kiss at some point, and looked at my cock, like he was considering to suck it or something. He looked at me, before going back to making out together.

I was kind of glad he didn’t push the sex subject forward, since I’m still really nervous about it. But… I guess it’s just a matter of time until I throw myself to him and ask him to fuck me. Like a good puppy boy.

I had to break the kiss after a while. I wanted to talk with him, before I forget about it as things get hotter.

“By the way, you should go back home today. Your parents are going to be worried about you” I told him, and he looked at me again with those sad puppy eyes, like begging me to let him stay another night.

“But… Babe… Just another night?” He asked, giving me a light kiss on the lips. “I promise I’ll go back home after tonight”

But I shook my head “You have to go back with your mom and dad, they’ll get worried about you” I repeated.

I was mostly afraid that a random werewolf might start hunting me down if I kept their son with me for longer. I didn’t know if he was telling them where he was at the moment, or the whole soulmate ordeal.

He accepted the defeat with a “Whatever you say, bro…” Before giving me another light kiss. I could get used to this, being the dominant guy in a relationship with one of the jocks that own the school.

Oh, I still had to test something out. I snapped my fingers and he gave me a warm smile, followed by a “You’re the best guy I could have as my soulmate, bro” and another little kiss.

That seemed to work well. I laid back down on my bed and he did the same, pulling me in for a cuddle and stroking my still hard cock from time to time.

I sent him home a few hours after that, and we kept in touch, texting a lot through Sunday until Monday finally came.

And I was nervous as fuck.

I did tell Dave to act like he normally would, and keep our encounters only for breaks or after school. It would seem less suspicious that way.

I also noticed I forgot to tell him to take off his bowser collar, but I assumed he would take it off to about rising suspicions too. He wasn’t as dumb as he wanted the others to think he was.

And my suspicions were right, he passed by with his football mates without the collar on. He winked at me as he passed by.

It was alright, though. People would find it weird if he started hanging out with me all of a sudden. Like, we could pass last Friday’s events as… him wanting me to do his homework? That could work.

Besides the wink, and me not having to worry about the other jocks as much as I usually did, the day was pretty normal.

He sat at the back of the class with his mates again, and I went back to having rotating partners, like I used to have.

Math class was my favorite. Especially when I wasn’t being interrupted. Today wasn’t one of those days, though. I got a paper ball thrown at my head from the back of the classroom.

Some laughter, and I frowned at the assholes. I grabbed the ball and opened it, it often had degrading messages like “go fuck yourself” or “Here’s a cock for lil’ faggy” along with a cock drawn besides the message.

Curiosity won over me, as always. And I was surprised, my frown quickly vanished as I noticed it was a note from Dave. I was glad I didn’t throw it at the trash without reading it.

“Puppy boy misses Nate :3”

We kind of passed the phase of “this is all a dream” and I was completely sure this was real. I assumed the other jocks thought he was bothering me, so that’s why they all laughed in their… annoying, deep laughter.

It made me happy, to say something. I felt good knowing there was a big jock waiting to spend time with me.

The rest of the class went on as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. My partner of the day wanted me to report the jocks with the principal, because of the paper ball, but I told her that I was alright, as long as they didn’t touch me.

I could handle a paper ball; I knew well enough to not make an argument out of stupid stuff like that.

And at break, what I’ve been waiting for actually happened.

I went to my locker to leave my math book and grab the literature one, only to be ambushed by the wholesome jock, laying against the locker on my right.

“So, how’s my bro’s Monday going?” He asked, with the same big smile as always. “I’ve thought I should take off my collar in public, but I brought it with me in my bag just in case you wanted me to have it on at all times” He said, showing me his school bag hanging from his shoulder.

“Oh, don’t worry. I forgot to tell you to take it off before heading to school, so I’m glad you did it by yourself” I said, as I finished with my locker and closed it. “And I’m good, thanks for asking”

“What did you think of my note? Sorry for throwing it at you, I hope I didn’t hurt you” He seemed excited, like he couldn’t wait to hear what I had to say about it.

“It was cool, I really appreciated it” I said, getting closer a bit to whisper “Puppy boy” to his ear, before taking a step back again.

He blushed, and mumbled “I’m your good puppy boy, bro”

I wanted to ruffle his hair, but that would be weird if anyone noticed us.

Butch, the guy from last Friday, passed by and touched Dave’s shoulder “Bro, come with me. Football team emergency!”

Dave nodded at him as his teammate walked away. Then, he turned to me and said “Football team emergency, bro. But I’ll look out for you at the next break, alright?” before walking away pretty fast.

I wondered what was the football team emergency, never heard that before. But again, I never hung out with the jocks so it may be a totally normal expression among them.

I decided to continue with my day. Next classes were as normal as they could be. No more paper balls being thrown at my head, luckily, and my puppy jock remained with his friends.

I wondered if he had an argument with them after the bathroom incident, or if they didn’t mind him protecting me from them. It was kind of weird, Butch acted like I wasn’t there before when he called Dave over, which was appreciated.

I preferred being ignored rather than being bothered.

I had lunch outside, as I usually do when it’s not raining, like I already mentioned when this whole thing started, meanwhile Dave remained with his friends on the cafeteria.

Keeping out the distance wasn’t so bad.

I was used to keeping the distance with the jocks, so it was like your usual day-to-day, with the only difference being that Dave came around from time to time to check if I was doing fine or if I needed something. And the other jocks didn’t even look at me anymore, which was a relief.

Seems like I can start enjoying my senior year, instead of waiting for it to end as soon as possible.

I looked for an empty table, and found one near the yard’s entrance.

I don’t think I’ve said this before, but I liked my school. It was beautiful, and pretty calm. Classes were cool, and the landscape was nice too. I enjoyed going to the yard during my breaks, and doing some reading or homework before my next class, or during lunch.

Midway through the lunch, Dave appeared once again. “Yo bro, sorry for leaving you before. Football team emergency, y’know how it is” He said, sounding tired.

“Huh, being the star quarterback seems like a rough thing” I mocked him. I always wondered what would it be like, entering a sports team. Totally not my thing, though.

“Hey, it’s not as easy as it seems” He said, grabbing the pear from my lunch plate. “Me and my bros are in charge of keeping the school’s spirit as high as it can be. Besides, we kill ourselves at the practices, you should come and see”

I raised my eyebrow, wondering if he was serious or not. I mean, I know the guys haven’t bothered me at all during the whole day, but pushing my luck seemed like a stupid thing to do.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea” I said, before taking back my pear from his hands and putting it back to place. “You’ve seen what happened at the bathroom, I’m not eager to go near the team”

“The team won’t put a hand on you ever again, bro. I took care of that. And there’s a secret spot behind the bleachers, if you’d like some privacy with your handsome puppy boy” He gave me pleading puppy eyes again.

Honestly? I was growing to like him, and it was hard to resist him when he acted so… wholesome and romantic.

I gave it some thought. It wouldn’t hurt, right? We just had to be careful to avoid being seen.

“Alright, I’ll see you there after practice” I finally said. He gave me a rough pat on the back, causing me to cough.

“Oh, sorry bro. Kinda excited, can’t wait to see you later” He moved closer, like he wanted to kiss me, but quickly got back to his place. “Hmm, yeah. Secret. Let’s save that for later” He smiled at me before getting up and running away, back to the school.

The practice would finish at 5 PM, so I had a bit of time. After classes were over, I stood around for a while and walked to the bleachers. I sat on a good spot, where I would see the whole field without any problem.

I noticed something weird as the guys started to heat up before starting. Coach wasn’t around, or he would have probably stopped it from happening.

One of the well-known nerds of the school walked up to the field and gave some things to a few of the football guys. It seemed like… essays?

He went up to Dave and gave him his essay, and my jock grabbed it. A few seconds later, he took the pair of glasses off the guy’s face and threw them across the field.

‘What. The. Fuck.’ was the only thing I could think about.

The nerdy guy went after them and placed them back on his face, before running off back to the exit and leaving the field.

I was kind of mad. What the fuck was he doing? Then I remembered.

He’s one of the school’s bullies. He probably only acted like a wholesome and cute guy when he was with me. But he had no soulmate thing, nor need to not be an arrogant jock with the rest of the school.

Basically, he was a dick by default.

Practice went on as normal, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the poor guy. Was that the ‘football team emergency’? They needed some essays done and they got someone to do it for them?

I noticed Dave’s reflexes were perfect during the practice. Every shot he did was precise, no matter the distance it had to go through. Some of his teammates tried hard to keep up with it, but they managed to do it pretty well.

They probably were used to it already. And his agility was also… outstandingly good. He was fast, very fast for a guy with his body size, but everyone seemed to think it was normal.

Probably because they didn’t know the truth, everything takes a great turn when you know that supernatural stuff is real.

Anyway, I went down to the back of the bleachers a few minutes before the practice was over, so nobody would notice me going there. Ten minutes later, Dave came up to me, still wearing his sweaty football uniform.

He smelled, that’s for sure.

“Hey bro, been missing you since lunch” He said, pretty excited to finally have some time alone.

Before I could actually answer, or say anything, he grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me in for a kiss.

Hmm… Can’t say I haven’t missed his kisses. The musky smell was somewhat disgusting, though. But I quickly forgot about it as I lost myself on my werewolf’s great kissing skills.

After we finished, I scratched the back of his ear for a few seconds. As usual, his eyes unfocused and his tongue lolled out. That was my good puppy boy.

But… I still felt bad. I stopped and looked around, just in case anyone could caught us in here.

I took a step back from Dave and went over to the bleachers, looking at the field. It was empty, and it looked nice.

Dave returned to his senses, and tried to hug me from behind. I sort of shivered when he did.

He noticed, and let go of me. “Is everything alright, bro? Did I do something wrong?” I wondered why he asked that every time I seemed to be cold with him. I was almost sure that he never asked that to his girlfriend.

I shook my head, trying to play dumb. I didn’t want to start an argument with my soulmate now, I just didn’t feel like doing that to him. But I didn’t feel safe anymore after seeing him bullying that nerd, it reminded me what they liked to do with me.

They were jerks, but Dave wasn’t. Not when he was with me, at least.

“Sorry. Just… thinking about stuff” I feigned a smile, to calm him down a bit.

He sighed, then returned the smile to me “I noticed you kinda off today, bro. And tried to think of something to make up for you letting me stay in your house” Wait. Please tell me he didn’t… “So, if you’d like, you could come over to my house tomorrow after school and you could stay with me for the night!”

…

...I wasn’t mad, nor angry or anything like that. Surprised, more than anything.

This seemed like a good chance to introduce myself to Dave’s parents. It would happen sooner or later, and I would have preferred to make it as late as possible.

But, the chance was presenting by itself, you can’t back down now, Nate!

I remained silent for a few more seconds, and just nodded at the sweaty football player.

Dave smiled, like he was the happiest man on earth, and pulled me in for another gentle kiss, meanwhile he caressed my face. He mumbled a quick “I love you…” before going back to kissing me.

Curiously, the bleachers seemed to be a really romantic place, after all…

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#mind control #straight to gay #gay hypnosis #brainwashing #brainwash #hypnotized #nate and dave

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beerecordings · 4 years

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The Fish

He's a fish in pollution, pushing up the sand with his snout.

“Hi, honey,” calls Jackie from the kitchen. He only uses pet names when he's upset.

“Hi,” he answers softly, closing the door behind him.

He's a fish with big, ugly golden eyes, the little black pinpricks frozen in amber, surveying the murky water around it with its stupid fish mouth hanging open like a dead thing.

“How was work?”

“Fine.”

“Good, good... you work so hard, I'm proud of you, doc...”

He's a fish and it's heavy and hard to swim. He hears Jackie playing with some papers through the water pressing down on him.

“What is it today, Jackie?”

“Hm? Oh, this – don't worry about this, sweetie, I've got it handled... I'll just... just need to... I've got it handled, yeah...”

He drifts away again, deep enough in his head that he doesn't look up when Henrik comes to stand beside him in the kitchen, staring at him. He's a fish, sure, but Jackie is just a bird who can't find somewhere to land. He's been flying for months. His wings must ache. Henrik touches his back and presses the pad of his thumb against the knuckles of Jackie's spine, hard, just for a moment. Jackie doesn't notice. His blue bird's eyes are far-sighted and he can only see parts of the documents in front of him, something about Jameson's therapy or the rent or police reports on strange glitches in the government computer system two countries over.

“Jackie,” says Henrik softly.

But Jackie doesn't hear him, cause nobody's listening to the way that fish bubble and pant when they can't find anything they need in the reeds, and the tide keeps dragging hiding places farther and farther away. The water's getting lower and damn but the sun burns a painful glow against his scales through the clear, loveless waves. But Jackie is just an albatross, and they're not swimming in the same tides anymore. His brother rocks on unsteady winds, his feathers ruffled and oil-heavy and his muscles straining, catching glimpses of Henrik in the silver water below, unable to help him til he finds somewhere to land, and Jackie can never find anywhere to land these days. Jackie can never, never, never find anywhere to put his head down and rest these days. Albatrosses don't have it much easier than the fish the sailors scoop up. Sometimes the sailors shoot them down too, and then, in fear of bad luck, the other sailors take the dead body of the bird and tie it around the killer's throat, so he gets nothing to drink but the blood of the albatross around his neck for days and days and days, but at least the bird is sleeping then. It's an old legend. Jackie is just rocking above it. He wouldn't be able to stop anybody from shooting him down. He wouldn't be able to stop anybody from scooping Henrik up. He probably wouldn't even notice, and that would only make the wind harsher, and the bird would find a way to cry even though birds don't really do that. This one does.

“Work so hard,” he repeats lovingly, still not looking up, still barely noticing that Henrik is beside him. There's a line of pale sweat along his hair. “I do love you, Schneep, I'm so proud... glad you're doing better these days, little brother, little brother...”

Henrik fills up a glass of water and puts it beside his hand before heading up the stairs. Jackie hunches over the paper in the kitchen. The lights aren't on and he can't find his glasses.

“Hey,” Henrik whispers, peering into Chase's room. “You awake?”

Chase jolts up on his bed, hair everywhere. “Hey? I'm awake, I'm awake!”

Henrik chuckles. “I can see that.”

“Aw, Schneep, it's so early! Eight A.M.? Ahhh, you woke me up...”

Henrik's chest rumbles merrily and he jumps onto Chase's mattress to make it bounce, drawing a low groan of protest out of his little brother.

“What, what?” teases Schneep, getting up to press Chase back into the bed, digging his fingers into his ribs. “Dumb-ass, were you sleeping?”

Chase laughs and pushes him off the bed, dumping Henrik onto his ass.

“So mean! Asshole, I was up til four editing!”

“You're nocturnal,” says Henrik, shoving his feet away from him as they come to hang off the bed. “Raccoon man.”

Chase grins slowly at him, his mischief mouth filling up with the joy of it, and Henrik is grateful for him. A shiver runs down his whole body as comforting fingers come down to massage at the back of his throat, warm and reassuring. Long raccoon claws stroke across Henrik's flesh without judgment or fear. Chase is a scavenger, it's true, and nothing scares or disgusts him anymore. He's been in the garbage himself enough times to shrug all the bullshit off. What's the smell of sterile hospital bandages and blood to a raccoon? Forget about it and share whatever comfort you can find with me. The smell of sweaty sleep clings to him. Chase tugs teasingly at his hair and then lets him go, sliding to the ground beside him.

“Did you wake me up for something?”

Henrik stares at him, wondering if he'd even hear if he said something.

“Schneep? Hard day at work?”

“Just a little,” he answers. “But I just wanted to see if you knew where Jamie was. He's not in his room.”

“Think he fell asleep in my closet again, yeah. Poor little buddy all frantic last night. Just needed a place to hide.”

Chase's tiny walk-in is stuffed with pillows and blankets and toys these days. Henrik gets up and opens the door gently. The wood finds tucked-in legs quickly and Henrik tries to slip into the closet without waking his little brother too abruptly, but the slightest change in environment has awoken every one of Jameson's fine senses, and his eyes flash open, glittering in the darkness. He leaps to his knees and curls back against the wall of the closet, swirling into himself, clutching his knife in one hand and his sock puppet in the other. Chase's daughter gave it to him because she said she didn't like it anymore, but Uncle Jameson might. She had said this as she sat down abruptly in his lap, and Jameson had flinched so hard Chase shouted, sure that Izzy was about to be slapped or shoved off. Jameson had just gone stiff and allowed his niece to slump back cheerfully against his chest. Chase heaved this huge sigh of relief and come over to pat Jameson's head, and Izzy had held his scarred white hands and pressed the sock puppet into them, and Jameson accepted it.

Jameson growls an exhale of air at him, one of the two warning noises he's capable of making. Henrik holds his hands out and crouches gently down to his level, murmuring his name. Jameson relaxes. He's smart and he knows a friendly face even when he's spooked. Henrik reaches out to brush his fingers through the long hair growing towards the back of his neck and Jameson sighs, closing his eyes, letting his head drift back against his hand.

“Poor tired bud,” says Henrik.

“He was playing all violent with his toys again,” reports Chase dutifully, getting up and grabbing the first shirt he sees from above Henrik's head, stripping his sleep shirt off and changing right there, heading back towards his drawers for boxers and pants. “Trying to tear that one stuffed cat up. He hates the fucking thing but he'll never let me take it from him.”

Jamie whines wearily and goes pawing for the cat in the darkness, reaching around until Henrik finds it and presses it into his hand. He's lived most of his life the way that fighting dogs do, tied up and beat til it made him violent and agonized, and even now he has to have something to bite. He doesn't mean to. He just gets upset. He bit Marvin once, dog's teeth digging into venison. The shock on his face was almost funny, but the despair in Jameson's was not.

Jameson buries his face in the cat stuffy and huffs distressed air out, pulling at his clothes. The small box of the closet is a comforting cage but he never feels safe.

“It's okay, puppy,” soothes Chase.

“Don't call him that,” snaps Henrik.

“Well, it calms him down.”

“I don't care, you're not Anti, don't call him puppy.”

“Is everything okay, Schneep?”

He's just a fish. His big mouth gapes open. He's stupid and ugly and he can't breathe air.

“Fine,” he says, and pulls Jameson in for a hug. Jamie whimpers again and puts his chin down on his shoulder. His teeth are very close to Henrik's face, but he knows that he won't bite. He's trying his best. Dogs shouldn't be treated the way he was treated, people even less so. Raccoon fingers come to stroke at the back of Jameson's head. They are a warm mismatched family in the darkness. Jameson's back gets wet with tears, but he doesn't say anything about it, and Chase, no matter how well his eyes see in the dark, does not notice.

“I lost my job,” says Henrik three days later at the kitchen table.

An abrupt silence pierces the table the same way his knife is piercing chicken cordon bleu. Fish, as it turns out, will eat just about anything. He saws at his chicken, his pinprick eyes fascinated by the thin yellow flesh sliding off it as he tears.

He sticks a piece of chicken in his mouth and chews.

“At the hospital?” asks Jackie. “You lost your job at the hospital? With Nadia, with the boss that you liked?”

“She's the hospital coordinator,” says Henrik.

“But it wasn't her decision.” Jackie's talons are grasping at straws. Henrik's surprised he's even managed to get this close to the water where he's swimming. He feels the little silver fish turn its golden eyes up to see the bird, but it's barely staying in the air and its presence is no longer comforting like it once was. He wonders if one day the albatross will just crash into the water with him, and he'll be the one trying to keep its head up while it drowns. “She wouldn't do that to you. She's the one who worked with you. Let you have two whole months to have a break, go to therapy... she wouldn't do that to you.”

“She did what she felt she had to,” says Henrik softly. “I'm a liability.”

“Hold everything, slow down, slow down,” demands Marvin beside him, and he feels his big brother's hand come to press down on his thigh, squeezing to make sure he's still there, in one piece, beside him. “Schneep, tell us what happened.”

Henrik glances over shyly. Marvin's eyes used to be blue, but these days Henrik thinks they're a deep, dopey brown, warm but shy, prey's eyes. Always trying to figure everything out, all careful, all timid, trying to find all the answers to make anything make sense to him anymore. But nothing ever does, so Marvin keeps hiding in the trees. The cat mask is a joke and Henrik knows it. Marvin is a deer.

“They can't just fire you!” spits Chase, furious on the other side of the table, his face turning red with grief. Henrik imagines grey and black fur all puffed up. “That's discrimination because of your disability! It's illegal!”

“I can't do my job anymore.” Henrik shrugs his shoulders. Shakes his head. He can't cry over it anymore. The last three days have had too many tears already. “My hands... most surgeons are done by the time they're forty, fifty, maybe. I just took an extra ten years early. Anti took an extra ten years early.”

Everyone is staring at him. Everyone is staring at the gaps in his scales. Everyone is staring at the fish-hook jammed down his throat. Everyone is staring at his shaking fins. He wants to be sick. Can fish vomit?

“You had a bad episode or something at work?” asks Marvin frailly. Yeah, that's a deer, a deer sitting next to him, using its hooves to pick at its food. The image almost makes him laugh in Marvin's elongated face. Henrik thinks he used to be something else, maybe a lion or a bird of paradise, but these days – nah, Henrik can see the spots along his legs and the antlers, getting loose the closer winter gets. His brother is a deer these days and he just wants to run away to the forest and hide for the rest of his life. He hasn't touched his chicken, just nibbled at the carrots Chase cooked to go along with them.

“Yeah,” says Henrik. “Yeah. In the middle of a surgery. Open heart. The blood all turned so much redder than it had been... and I was just a fish in the Nile when the water changed, you know, I was just... couldn't take it all of a sudden. Took my instruments right out of the body and tore my mask off and threw up in the trash can. All the nurses looking at me. Sick of dealing with my breakdowns. They called another doctor up at four in the morning and he came in and finished it. Then Nadia takes me back to her office... not even sorry, you know, put on her tough coordinator act, or maybe it wasn't an act, and she was sick of me too... They gave me a fair chance. All the accommodations they could. Let me have my nice long break. I just can't do it anymore. I can't. I'm not a doctor now.”

He is getting up from the table before he's registered his own actions, his eyes burning. Chase is talking too loud about how she can't do that, you love your job, you're so good at what you do, and Marvin is reaching out for his hand like he's offering half of his sugar cube to bring him to sit back down, while Jackie just stares at his plate, far-sighted, far-sighted and lost. Henrik tears away from Marvin's fingers and swims towards the stairs, panting water and blood, exhausted, distressed, pushed endlessly back by the waves. He hears the small chirping barks of Jameson clicking his tongue after him and he's grateful that the little one is, for once, clear-headed, but he isn't about to turn around. Too many eyes. Too many eyes and too many open bodies, and he's just a fish, a fish swimming up against the tide, and soon he'll be a dead fish, cause even though his therapist tells him shortened life outlook is a symptom of his PTSD, he's felt enough lives drain away beneath his hands to sense when sailors are opening up their nets, and there's nobody left in the water beside him. Just deer and raccoons trying to stay in the shade on the shore, and birds too exhausted to keep flying, lost above the water.

And one lone pitbull swimming out into the ocean after him.

He wakes up that night to movement in his bed.

“Drunk again?” he mumbles. “What?”

Someone blows air on his face.

Henrik startles, pushing at the body above his own, shoving its shoulders away. “Chase! Oh.”

It's not Chase. Jamie rubs at his slim shoulders in mock protest, screwing up his face all sweet and offended.

“Ow, ow,” whine his hands, and he flops dramatically back onto the bed. “Mean doctor.”

Henrik snorts despite himself and shoves him with his foot before getting up to crawl over him. “Little terror,” he signs back, grabbing his hands and pulling him sitting up. He fits Jameson's chin in his hands and tilts his face from side-to-side. Jameson, all too used to examinations, lets himself be turned about, gazing at the ceiling.

“Your color's up a little. Feeling clear tonight, then?”

“Feel quite alright. Back and forth a little. Ping pong ball.”

Henrik chuckles, putting a hand on his own forehead as he feels the exhaustion swimming back towards him. He sinks back against his headboard, drawing his blankets around him.

“You scared me jumping on me like that,” mumbles Henrik, reaching out to touch his arm. He's maybe a black and white pittie, Henrik thinks. Nice dogs, really. Just got a bad reputation. Just got used for bad things. Nice blue eyes. Clever, friendly breed, a lot smarter than fish, and a lot tougher, too. Henrik halfway expects Jameson to dart forward and lick his face. They'd have to have another conversation about boundaries. Maybe if Henrik used German Jamie would understand him better.

His little brother breathes out a happy little sigh and flops onto the bed beside him, clutching Marvin's laptop to his chest as he gets comfortable.

“Well, make yourself at home,” grumbles Henrik, trying not to be endeared. “Little terror. What are you doing, anyway? I thought you'd been sleeping in Chase's closet.”

Jameson's mouth turns down. He pauses, shrugs, holds up a hand. “Drunk.”

“Ah, fuck,” sighs Henrik, glancing at the door. “He scare you?”

“Loud,” says Jameson.

“At least he's home.”

Jameson nods. Forgiving. One of a myriad of jumbled traits Henrik's noticed on him in the five weeks since he came home to them.

He wishes there was nothing to forgive. He wishes they had made a better home for him.

“Hey, pet me,” Jameson insists, sitting up and leaning over him. Henrik pushes him gently back down.

“Hey, what we did say about this word – 'pet?'”

Jameson simpers wearily, squirming unhappily, but he doesn't whine at all today. Henrik knows how hard he's trying to get this all right. He never wanted to be anybody's dog and he wants to be alright now. Henrik sees it in him, moment to moment, in the moments when the short, barking signs turn into sudden eloquence, when he gets stuck staring out the window and his eyes go distant, when he watches, careful, the way that everybody else speaks and acts and goes about their day, trying to recreate the understanding that once existed in his head – how to be, if not normal, then at least functionally typical. Trying to remember all the rules that come naturally to everybody else.

“I'm sorry,” says Jameson clearly. “No demand. No pet. Would you hold me for a little while, Henrik?”

Henrik's heart pangs at the carefully selected little sign name – healing. H. H-healing. Henrik. Smooth and sliding. He shivers. Not much of a healer now.

But he can hold him, at least.

He lets Jameson settle down on his chest and wraps his arms around him, rubbing his back through the smooth fabric of his big blue sleep shirt. Jameson sighs, delighted, and puts Marvin's computer on Henrik's stomach, hitting play on a video.

Henrik drifts sleepily on his pillow while soft music plays from a demonstration of a man making a big boat sculpture entirely out of chocolate. He feels Jamie pat his stomach eagerly a couple times, when the man does something really clever, like molding a little crest for the head of the ship or getting out the edible spray-paint.

Shouting echoes up from downstairs and Jameson stills.

“You just don't want to admit there's something wrong with him – ”

“Don't you dare say that!”

“Neurologically wrong, Marvin, he needs to see a specialist!”

“He likes the lady he has right now, we are not moving him around anymore! You know how hard it is for him to trust anybody! His brain is fine, Jackie, he's just traumatized! Why is that so hard for you to grasp?”

Henrik rubs at his face, exhausted.

“How about I will grab you headphones, Jameson?” His voice is a fish croak. He feels sticky purple blood on his chest.

JJ shakes his head, staring at his video. The man is adding an octopus to the top of the ship. A big chocolate octopus. Do octopus eat fish? Henrik can't remember. Squid do, don't they? Probably octopuses are just the same.

“This,” says Jameson, pointing at the video. “Want to do this.”

Henrik pauses, glancing between him and the big chocolate octopus. “What – make chocolate?”

Jameson digs his chin into Henrik's chest, humming airily. “Carve. Carve things. But not... sometimes with Anti we... but I don't mean like that. I like how someone can take a dead piece of wood or a big, melty slab of chocolate, and then turn it into something so intricate and lovely. Who doesn't want an octopus sculpture? A chocolate octopus sculpture! Tearing the boat apart like that. No more sailors.”

“I don't understand why now, of all times, you want to get into this!” Jackie sounds close to tears. No where to land. It's storming out. “And now poor fucking Schneep is out of a job, and what the hell is he going to do? He loved being a surgeon better than anything and he's probably upstairs right now hurting, with nobody to comfort him, but you want to get into a fucking fight?”

“You never listen to me unless we're yelling!” He only says it because he's afraid. Henrik can hear his deer's feet retreating away from Jackie. Marvin made timid... who would have thought he'd see the day? “Besides, let's not pretend you have the first idea how to comfort Henrik anymore!”

“Well, at least I don't avoid everyone in the whole goddamn house!”

“That is not what's happening!”

“Oh, please – ”

“Never listen to me at all – ”

“You're the one who doesn't ever work with me!”

“Don't trust me with any of the problems in the house anymore!”

“I'm not the problem here – ”

“Everything is falling apart and you – ”

Something flames like a coal fire in Henrik's chest. Suddenly he is crying, covering his ears with his hands, wrapping his body tighter around Jameson's, still rubbing, gentle, at his soft back, clutching his brother to his chest, sobbing on his bed at one in the morning, because nothing is right, and nothing is going to be right, and he's tired of being alive.

Jameson picks softly at his beard, scratching his fingers through it. Someone is throwing up in the bathroom across the hall.

“Why will nothing get better, Jamie?” His golden, pinprick eyes are weeping salt into the great black ocean around him. He is limp on the waves that throw him around and around in the water, bleeding purple, ill with the motion of it, too tired to keep on, and the worst part is he knows fish are too fucking stupid to get the metaphor of any of it, and there is no less glorious death to be imagined than the dumb staring up at the sun as the corpse floats bloatedly to the surface of the ocean and the seagulls swoop down for a snack. “Why will none of this ever get any better?”

“I'm better,” say Jameson's scarred white hands. “I'm better.”

Henrik buries his face in his shoulder. He's so fucking good. What the hell did he do to deserve a friend like this? “Yeah,” he manages, frail as fish bones. “You are.”

Jameson breathes that breathy hum against his head, gone warm and still and patient in his arms. Henrik holds him closer and closer, hiding in his chest, soothed by the feel of the fabric beneath his hands. Just keep rubbing his back. Just keep rubbing his back. Just keep rubbing his back. Soft and steady across his palms. Warm heartbeat beneath his fingers. Maybe Jameson didn't come in here for his own reassurance. Good dog, better man. He thinks he might be a man again too. He thinks Jameson might be holding him in the water, his head pressed against his shoulder, kicking his legs to keep them both afloat, Henrik limp in his arms as he swims. He sees them both thrown by the waves, wrapped around each other, heads down and close and steady and soaked, brothers in misery, brothers on the ocean waves, while fur and scales fall away.

Jameson draws away from him slowly. Henrik whimpers and Jameson shushes him, clutching his hand for a moment before he darts away, returning just a moment later and pressing cool wood into Henrik's hands, Henrik's shaking, tremulous, tormented hands.

“It's a fish,” Jameson tells him. “I made it for you.”

His fingers encircle the proud round body of the wooden koi. Henrik stills, sniffling, running his hands over it before it ever reaches his eyes.

The thin texture of scales fill the soft whorls of his fingerprints. A delicate curve enters his palms, moving through him, forward through his hands. Little paddles of fins interrupt the sure circle of the body, and the face, short-whiskered, unpainted, is perfectly smooth, perfectly smooth. Jameson presses it against his wrists and holds it up inside his brother's hands, so Henrik can see the softness of the wide mouth, the wise wide eyes, the calmness of it, the still water of it, the koi fish.

“Mein Gott,” whispers Henrik. “You made this yourself? With your little blade? But how did you know?”

“Know?” asks Jameson. “What did I know?”

Henrik stares between him and the fish. “Nothing,” he murmurs. “Never mind. Hell, Jamie, it's beautiful, it's really beautiful. Your hands must be steady.”

No one ever seems to hear him through the water. Sometimes he can't tell if the things he hears are reaching anyone. He runs his fingers over the indent ears of the fish. The koi can hear him. The koi did hear him. Jameson squeezes his hands.

Jackie and Marvin have, at last, had the good sense to take their argument outside, and the house is still again, leaving only the faint reverb of their braying and crying to slink its way into their home.

“It won't last long though,” murmurs Henrik. “Always another storm on the horizon. I am no longer strong enough to stand through them.”

Jameson puts his hand on his brother's heart, just for a moment, and then draws back to speak.

A wild solid thud slams through the air and they both jolt. Henrik grabs Jameson's shoulders, sitting up, staring at the door.

Chase shrieks, a sob thrashing through it, and bursts into tears on the other side of the door.

“Chase!” cries Henrik, leaping out of bed and darting into the hall. The bathroom glows gold from the cracks beneath the door and his hands are yanking it open with enough force that he busts the shitty press-in lock of the handle in one go.

Chase is wailing at his feet, hot tears coursing down his face, curled in on himself and clutching his head. Blood seeps from beneath his fingers and smears the side of the counter beneath the mirror.

Henrik falls to his knees beside him and grabs his hands away from his skull, sending Chase into writhing, rocking himself back and forth on the floor. His face has drained of all color, except the bright red of his mouth where he bites down on it.

“What happened, what happened?”

“Schneep!” he screams, trying to clutch at his head again. “F-fell, hit my head, hit my head!”

“And hard, too,” murmurs Henrik, taking his chin in his hands and pulling him closer to gaze at the burst of blood at the top of his forehead. “Chase! Why won't you stop getting so drunk you can't walk through the bathroom? Fuck, I – I can't – hell, okay, okay, Jamie, can you get me my first aid kit?”

“Where?”

“Beneath my bed, bottom left corner,” he replies, clipped and sure, stroking his thumb down Chase's cheek.

“It just hurts!” sobs Chase, rocking himself. Back and forth, back and forth. Swaying on the branches of the trees.

“You really got it at just the wrong angle.”

“Not my head,” chokes Chase, hugging his own shoulders.

Henrik's eyes sting again. “I know. I know.”

“I can't do this anymore, Schneep, fuck, I'm sorry, I can't do this, I can't go on.”

His hands scrabble for the bottle watching them from the top of the counter. In a sudden burst of fury, Henrik leaves Chase on the floor, gets to his feet, and picks the bottle up in his hand. A heavy square of poison clutched in his palm. He turns his body like a baseball player pitching and flings the bottle at the wall above the bathtub.

The glass glows and glitters as it shatters into the body of the tub, spilling cold gold alcohol all over the floor and the porcelain. Chase draws back and wraps his arms around himself, moaning as Henrik gets back to his knees beside him, breathing hard.

“Have to stop trying to do it alone,” mumbles Henrik, reaching back to get the first aid kit from Jamie.

“Henrik,” signs Jamie softly. “Shaking.”

Spasming might be more accurate. His hands flicker and rock, tremble and sway, shaking so hard he can barely clutch fists.

He shoves at the clasp of the box until it falters open, hands scrambling for butterfly bandages.

“Have to stop trying to do it alone... have to stop trying to do it on your own...”

Clean red blood wells across the ridges of Chase's fingers. Henrik shudders. He sees knives and open wounds seeping puss and he closes his eyes, panting, trying to get his fingers to pinch the bandages.

Jameson's scarred hands come down to help him hold them.

They pull Chase's hands away from his head and unfurl the first bandage. Jameson mops blood away and then moves Henrik's fingers with his own, pressing the plastic over the small, weeping cut.

Marvin and Jackie are louder through the window of the bathroom.

“Why don't you act like my friend anymore? I don't understand what's happening to you. You feel like you're a hundred miles above me, and I'm just stuck on the ground.”

“Marvin – I – I never meant to push you away...”

“Ohh, it stings, it stings,” groans Chase, pushing the heels of his palms against his face.

“We'll get it all closed up,” whispers Henrik, rubbing at his back. “Good doctor's here.”

Jameson smiles gently at him and helps to undo another bandage. He doesn't really need his help, Henrik realizes belatedly. They press a second bandaid over the cut to keep it together. Henrik sits back on his heels.

“I know you're trying to protect us... trying so hard to protect us, to take care of us, but Jackie, I just want... I just want...”

“Fuck, Marvin...”

For long minutes, Henrik rubs Chase's back and talks to him. Jameson swathes the blood away, rubs stinging disinfectant over the wound, replaces it with butterflies, and, finally, adds a great patch bandage to cover the wound. Chase has gone quiet, holding Henrik's hand, his eyes closed, his face getting its color back. Jackie and Marvin murmur outside the house.

“Garbage kid,” says Henrik.

Chase's mouth flickers fondly. “Just a raccoon man, aren't I, Schneep?”

“Some days,” agrees Henrik. “Not all. Some days you're just my Chase. Head out of the goddamn dumpster.”

“Think I need to den up for the night,” Chase mumbles. “Or I'll end up with raccoon circles on my eyes and then we'll be back at the beginning. Will you... will you help me get up?”

Jameson and Henrik grab his arms, steadying him, and together they haul him to his feet and hold his hands, leading him back towards his bedroom.

“I'm sorry I'm so dumb,” says Chase. “And I'm never what you need me to be.”

“You are what I need you to be,” says Henrik.

And Chase stares up at him like he needs more explanation, but what do you say to that? He doesn't know how to tell him the truth of it. He believes it about Chase, but not about himself, so how does he speak it out loud, and face the hypocrisy always tearing him apart?

“You don't have to be anything other than who you are,” says Jameson. “Because I don't love you because of what you provide. I don't love you because you saved me, though you did. I don't love you because you are what I expected you to be or because you do what you promised the world you could. So when you tell me you can no longer take care of me, or you are no longer allowed to look after your children, or your hands can no longer take hearts apart and put them back together, well, I'll still love you both just fine anyway.”

And there it is, tangible in the air – the wisdom often sleeping behind long months of fear and uncertainty, the intelligence, the way that love is always waiting to speak through his little brother, his warm, clever little brother, the pitbull, the man.

“I love you because love asks only for love in return. And sometimes, even then, it can wait for the day that you'll know how to love me better.”

Chase reaches up and brushes his thumb over Jameson's cheek. His little brother tilts his head softly into his palm, closing his eyes, and he trusts him, and Chase's fingers tremble to be holding that much warmth against their skin.

“I do love you,” says Chase, very low, very true. “So much. And I will, someday, love you better.”

“Better and better with each day that passes,” answers Jameson. “Besides, Henrik will smash all your bottles next time you try to get drunk anyway.”

Chase closes his eyes, laughing, and Henrik slaps Jameson's shoulder. For a moment, even as he laughs, the pain of everything flashes over Chase's face, and then it is gone again, and, situated between his brothers, he falls asleep and does not dream, except of a quiet beach, and his white feet digging into the sand of it, watching the tide recede.

Jameson leans over to kiss Henrik's head and he chuckles, pulling his little brother to his chest, not sure why he's crying.

“Wrong?” asks Jameson. “Bad, what is?”

“I don't know,” says Henrik. “Maybe nothing. Just overwhelmed.”

“Time for bed,” Jameson insists, tugging on his sleeve.

Henrik runs his eyes over him, sighing through his nose, his eyebrows raising with a challenge. “Well... what do you think about trying your own bed tonight, huh?”

A blush floods Jameson's cheeks and he looks away, biting on the nail of his thumb.

“It's okay if you're not ready,” Henrik says. “But I'd like to see you try.”

“Can't do it alone,” says Jameson. “Afraid.”

“I'll come in there and sleep with you, if you want.”

“Really?”

Henrik nods, a smile curving on his tired mouth.

Jameson plays with his hands. “Just let me get my stuffies and the lightbox.”

“Computer,” laughs Henrik. “It's a computer.” He signs it.

“Computer,” Jamie signs back exaggeratedly, rolling his eyes, and Henrik beams to see him teasing. But there's one more storm he has to ride through tonight, cause who else is going to make it all better?

“I'll just go check on Jackie and Marv,” he says, getting up. “Meet you in your room.”

“Tell 'shhhh,'” says Jameson, ducking towards Chase's closet for his kitten and finger puppets. “Loud, angry.”

“Not at you, though,” says Henrik softly, pausing in the doorway. “Not at you.”

“Yes,” answers Jameson's hands. “I know. Not even at each other.”

“Not at each other? Who were they yelling at?”

Jameson shrugs. “Go look,” he says, disappearing behind the door.

Henrik swims down the stairs, feeling his fins trail behind him. He's a fish. He's a big ugly fish. Or maybe a nice wooden koi, warm and lovely between Jameson's hands. But he's still a fish and the albatross can't reach him and the deer is hiding in the forest, because that's the way it's been for long, long months now.

He opens the door of the house.

Before the roots of the forest dig their way into the dark, steady earth, Marvin kneels in the grass, his head held up, staring at the stars.

Jackie is laid across his lap, pressed to his chest, resting in his arms.

Antlers of deer, when they come out from the trees, make nesting place for birds.

Arms of brothers make spaces for each other.

And Jackie has found a place to land.

Marvin turns, suddenly, alerted to his presence, and today, he does not turn his head away, does not duck his face down, does not retreat to the trees.

“I love you,” he mouths in the light of the moon.

Henrik smiles despite himself, alight with tears.

“I love you too,” he signs back.

“Ready for bed?”

“Almost, H-healing.”

“What are you doing?”

“Finishing my video,” says Jameson happily, reaching out for him, so brothers can sleep on the same piece of driftwood, and one day make it back to land, even if it's a very different shore from the one they were cast off from.

“Did he finish the octopus?” asks Henrik sleepily, sinking down into the bed beside him. One of Jameson's stuffies squeaks on the mattress beneath him.

“Yes,” answers Jameson. He closes the lid and lies down beside Henrik, presenting the wooden koi again, putting it on the bed between them and moving it towards their heads like it's swimming. “And then, when he was done, he squished the arms of the octopus together.”

“Did it crush the boat?”

“It crushed the boat, and it drowned all the sailors. But you know what, I think it's okay, cause they were pirates, so they probably did bad things to people and locked men up like dogs in the little box – the brig, yeah? Well, now they're gone, and they can't hurt anybody, and the ship will go down in chunks, so there's no one to hurt the fish, and they have places to hide now, when the tide is too strong and they can't swim anymore, and I bet a whole family of them can stay safe in the remains of what once was.”

#writers of jack #bee writes #schneeplestein #dehumanization tw #blood tw #references to alcoholism #extended metaphors like you wouldn't believe #thanks for reading :)

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meshugana1 · 6 years

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I have a married friend who I paint with weekly. She's short, and usually a bit timid unless she's talking about animals, which she loves. Recently she's been painting this pig for a protest piece, and I think she's getting a bit obsessed. She started bringing in snacks, and eating while she paints, which she never used to do. She's been snorting while she laughs, and I've noticed that she's a bit slower and more flirty. I'm worried that soon I won't have a friend, just a fat, dumb, horny pig.

It was unnerving to see Catherine like this now. I remember when we first met. She was so doe-like in her mannerisms. Even watching her just stand and listen to our painting instructor was like seeing a nymph flit about. She rarely spoke but was all the same warm and the most pleasant company. I remember once I brought up my old family farm, I think that was the first time I ever heard her speak, but she perked up and flung one question after another about the animals I grew up with. She felt deeply for pretty much everything alive. When I mentioned slaughtering cows and chickens, she flinched but said nothing. I made a point not to talk about that in the future and we became easy friends.

I was in a surrealist phase of my art when we met. It just felt so energizing to be able to take a thing and filter it through my crazy imagination and just put it on a canvas. Catherine was more about realism. She painted the most lovely landscapes I had seen since that disastrous year I spent backpacking in Europe. She even went so far as to include downright microscopic detail in her work, it seemed like she painted each individual blade of grass. But the ones that got the most attention from her were the animals she included. Her horses felt like you could ride them at any moment, anti felt like the birds she created would fly away if you turned your back on them for even a moment. Her work was truly inspiring, I was always focused on the big picture but she was the perfect example of the little picture. We even began hanging out outside our art classes. I would be a little embarrassed to admit how many wine bottles the two of us drank together. Even her husband and I got along well enough. His name was Zeus, can you believe that?

He was a pretty good guy. Never made a pass at me, not that I’m great at recognizing when people are flirting. I’m still single at twenty-nine and have been for about seven years now. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t find him attractive. He was six feet of bearded, well filled out, lumberjack looking man. Who wouldn’t? But it was sweet how devoted he was to her. He wasn’t an artist like us, but he made a lot of money as a woodworker. He had his own shop and he always came home to her smelling like sawdust. He always came during our girls night and pulled her chin up from behind and kissed her. I was really jealous. He was charming, funny, and number one in my book, handsome. He mentioned to me once that he had been married before but it ended ugly. Who would pass on this guy?

But their loss was Catherine’s gain I suppose. After our classes ended we started using open studio night at a local community college as our girls night. But then things started changing when he started painting that pig. She was so excited when she first brought in her paints. “It’s incredible Franny! I had the most energetic dream I can remember!” she said.“What happened?” I said.“I was in bed, then suddenly I bolted upright and saw it. A pig.”“What’s so special about that? I dreamt that my head turned into a cow udder once.”“And remember the painting you made from that? It was inspired. And now I think I’m having the same thing happen to me.”“What was so special about it?”“I can’t describe it with words. It was just a pig, squatting in a pile of filthy mud. But it just had this nobility. This dignified beauty…you’ll understand when I finish it. Everything I’m saying will make perfect sense.”

It was unnerving seeing her like this. She was totally possessed by this painting. After about a month of painting the most beautiful background, I had ever seen her make she stalled. Our brief sessions at the studio stopped being enough. She started going in early and staying late. It was just impossible for her to start painting the pig itself. She had the barn in the background, the pen, the mud. All of it spoke to her vision. It was obviously missing its centerpiece but it was quality none the less. I came in one evening to find her pacing back and forth, three empty plastic soda bottles littered the ground and she was taking bites out of a candy bar. “Catherine? Are you ok?”“No, I don’t see it anymore. I could see it so clearly but now I just don’t have it!”“Maybe you should take a break from this thing. I’ve never seen you drink anything that wasn’t made with ground up grass, the candy bar is new too.”“I have to eat something, I’m so slow recently, so tired. I can’t think straight.”“Like I said Cath, just take a break. It’ll be there later, in the meantime, you can try to get into the mindset of your little piggy.” Catherine stopped pacing just then. Her eyes were widened with understanding. “Franny you’re a genius! Snort!” she said. She leaped up to me with her short legs and planted a kiss on my lips. I had never had a gay bone in my body and I didn’t think she did either, but it was hard to argue as her tongue explored my mouth. We separated and she grabbed her painting with renewed energy and ran from the studio with a purpose I couldn’t divine.

She stopped coming regularly after that. It was barely once a week that I saw her and each time I did I was more and more concerned. There was never a point when she didn’t have food in her mouth, and more still in her hand. Whenever she laughed she chortled at best and snorted at worst. Her manners took a serious dive, she openly scratched her ass and crotch in public. It was at the mall together for the first time that I ever heard her fart. We were walking and she actually stopped me. “Oh, wait. Listen to this,” she said. Then she squatted down and ripped the loudest fart I had ever heard. I swear it echoed through the entire building. It seemed like the whole mall stopped to hear Catherine snort and chortle at the volume she was able to reach. “I’ve probably got about four more of those in the tank before I’m empty,” she said as she rubbed her belly. It had begun to strain her clothing lately, and not only that but a muffin top peaked from the top of her pants. I can’t even tell you how many pants she tore in front of me. And I was forced to watch as she flirted with countless men as we hurried out of the mall, my protests didn’t seem to deter her at all.

A while later Zeus gave me a call. “Listen, this might sound weird but do you know if anything strange has been happening to Catherine lately?” he said.“Yes, you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed. She’s eating tons of junk food, farting constantly, gaining weight and I hate to be the one to tell you, but she just won’t stop being flirty with everyone. I’m so sorry Zeus.”“No, no. I know all about that stuff. Was there anything weird before that though?”“Before? No, it just kinda happened after her weird dream.”“Dream?! What kind of dream?”“She had a vision of a pig or something, then got to work on painting it,” I said. Zeus used words I had never heard out of him before, and none of them were English. “Sorry Franny, Catherine and I might need to take a vacation away from all this, get her mind right,” he said. He hung up immediately. Not a second later my doorbell rang and I heard a familiar snorting chuckle, “Franny! Snort, you gotta see this. Oink, it’s so cool!”

When I opened the door I gasped. My eyes watered from the smell, had she not bathed at all? But the thing that made me refuse to close my eyes was Catherine’s huge, upturned snout. “You like it? I got it done today. You were so right Franny, I just had to get into the mindset of the pig, now I totally understand!”“Catherine how could you do this? What would Zeus think?”“Oh! Do you know where he is? I am in such a rutting mood! I better go sniff him out, snort, see ya later. Feel free to finish that dumb old drawing of mine, oink, I don’t need it anymore. Bye bye!” Catherine said as she waddled away in her straining skinny jeans.

I called Zeus several times. He said that it was some kinda stress that just got to her. He brought her up to a farm someone in his family owned to help her relax. He said she was getting better every day, but she had a ways to go. That wasn’t much unexpected but I didn’t expect to hear him say, quietly under his breath, “Damn Hera, why do you always do this?” I don’t know exactly what he meant by that. But I thought it best not to dwell. Catherine would pull out of this, I was certain of it, and when she did I wanted her to see her masterpiece finished. It was kinda odd though. As I looked at the partially painted pig I started to feel really hungry, and to my shame, I let out a louder than normal toot.

The End. Hope Y’all liked it!

#mental change #behavior change #gassy #weight gain #pig tf #request

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clans-of-the-sea · 7 years

Text

Tomorrow Comes Today

A small black kitten padded along the alleyway, the round stones under paw making him wince. Tiny claws clicked against the ground, and it was a bit reassuring. He could always defend himself. Ears flattened as he tried to see if there was any movement around here though, a crow nearby or even other abandoned unfortunate souls. So far, he saw nothing…. though he wasn’t dumb enough to think he was ever alone.

Ears perked as he heard a small clicking noise. Eyes caught lamp light, a bright emerald green and a curious baby blue turned and looked up at the small No-Fur sitting on a box and moving their paw awkwardly. Slowly, the small kit bumbled forward. This was what he had been waiting for! He let out a tiny cry and walked around the giant hind paws of the No-Fur, looking up as a gentle brown hand leaned down and ran down his back. It was…. comforting.

There was a garble of words, and he perked his ears to focus.

“…. Murdoc…..” That was a word he didn’t recognize. But he knew it, it was his name….!

——+——

Awkward long legs chased after the Cloud before him, the smaller tom trying to speed up whenever Marley hopped over a branch or log that littered their forest. “Marley…! Wait up…!” He huffed, losing his breath.

“You’re going to need to get faster Murdoc. Your brothers and sisters are training just as hard, and your Royal isn’t that far away. You’re still smaller then them!” Marley slowed though, waiting until the Shadow caught up to him before nuzzling the top of his head. “…. You can’t afford to take it easy Murdoc. Not if you want to make it past drawing First Blood.”

Murdoc was catching his breath, looking at awkwardly large paws and licking his maw. “…. It’s just because I was the Easy Blood.”

“There’s no ‘was’ about it. You’re still the smallest one…” Marley shook his head as he flicked the smaller with his tail. “…. You’ll have to keep working harder then the others, you know that, don’t you? You’re smart, but that wont be enough.”

Murdoc scrunched his nose, mismatched eyes looking up at Marley. “…. Can’t we just take a small break? We can go back out later….”

“…. Okay.” Marley sighed and started back towards the camp. He looked sad, like he was seeing something bad far far away…. Murdocs tail twitching, and he tried to think about the Royal he would be in. Danny wasn’t much bigger then him, she would probably go down really easy. Cassy wasn’t a big fan of Dommer, she would probably go for their longer brother first and he’d let her. …. Hannibal was the biggest of them all though.

The tom padded into camp with his tail trailing behind him. A large dark molly pushed his way past Murdoc to head out for hunting and he jumped aside. Stormy grunted on her way to hunt, ignoring her kit completely. Which shouldn’t have been surprising, she had never really doted on any of them but… there was something about it that felt wrong.

“Don’t worry 'bout it Murdoc. Go get some rest.” Marley purred as he nudged his little Shadow, pointing to a good shaded spot. He curled up tight, feeling some glances his way but ignored them until he drifted to sleep. He was sure he’d get chance to rest for awhile, but woke with hardly any time passed to two large figured in front of him.

“Get out of my spot!” Murdoc bristled, hissing as one of the offender swiped a massive paw at him. He was knocked back, pinned between the two toms and the wall behind him.

“I was here first!”

“Well I was born first!” The second figure, hardly any smaller then the first, jumped forward and scrabbled with the smaller black cat, hind legs kicking into his lower belly and knocking any remaining air out of him when he dragged Murdoc from the nest.

“Enough!” A she-cats voice called out, a fluffy dappled coat and small ears ran forward, Sally grabbing Hannibals scruff and pulling him off his smaller brother. “That’s enough! Shadows still in training are not to fight! Not until the Royal!”

Hannibal growled at the Night Consort, turning and looking to the tom who had egged him on. Sally knocked her shoulder into the Shadow though, snapping at him to find another place to rest. “Murdoc, go see Lana. No need get an infection this close to your Royal.”

The dark tom glared at the large tabby brute who was Hannibal’s Cloud before bounding across the camp. Lana was there waiting for him, small ears perked and short tail twitching. “….. Pay no mind to Salem, Murdoc.”

“It’s not fair! He shouldn’t be training Hannibal!”

“Anyone is allowed to choose a Shadow.”

“He shouldn’t! He’s spiteful and cruel!”

“…. That’s why he had first pick.” Lana shook her head, sighing as she looked the scratches down his side over. “… You’ll leave. Keep them clean and you’ll be fine.”

——+——

“Murdoc, you’re late.” Marley was sitting in the woods near one of the beaches, ears perked as his Shadow padded towards him. “Where have you-….” He frowned, growing silent as he saw who was walking with the lanky black tom.

Jitterbug was escorting the small tom, grumbling. Marley knew that Murdoc was supposed to be training with the Moon Court this morning, to prove he was ready for his Royal tomorrow and shouldn’t just be chased out now. However the weird angle the young black toms nose pointed made him shiver.

“Your Shadow…” The Half Moon was clearly trying to restrain his anger. “Was truant, tried pulling a prank on Archer, and has the behavior of a Forgotten Blood! He was trying to mock animal noises, scared them away, and has a pointless, malicious humor.” He reported, claws digging into the ground. “He’s an appalling Shadow, and a stupid imbecile who hardly paid any attention!”

“He… has wonderful charisma. He’s bright - he’ll make a good liar!” Marley attempted to stand up for his Shadow. A good liar had a good poker face, could make good bets!

“Sounds more like skills for the Forgotten.” Jitterbug threatened, fur fluffed as he walked away from the two.

Marley turned on the young tom, eyes closed. “…. What happened?”

“It was all Curly!” He was quick to snap, fur bristled. “He called me useless, and a waste of space! Said I’d be better off in the No-Fur place!” He was talking funny, and the Cloud looked over his muzzle closely.

“Did Lana see this?” Murdoc snorted.

“She said it looked funny, and to keep it out of everyone else’s business….”

Marley did seem upset by this, but only shook his head. “…. Lets see what we can do…”

Murdoc followed the tom closely. “One day I’m doing to be the Moon Father, and I’m not gonna let my kits run a muck like Jack does!”

“You’ll be lucky to live past your Royal at this rate. No doubt by now Salems caught word. He’all be training Hannibal with extra hard. And Curly will make sure Dommer is going to handle you.” It wasn’t malicious, it was a warning to be on guard. Even still, Murdoc did not seem swayed.

“Well I’m not going to die! If anything I’ll get off this island and be free of all these dumb rules and the dumb Moon Court.”

——+——

He had been lucky. That’s what everyone was saying anyway. Lucky. Lucky that he had taken injured Cassys leg so she’d be weak the rest of the match. Lucky Danny took Cassy out. Lucky Danny saw him as a force to team up with. Lucky the two of them killed Dommer. Lucky Hannibal went to finish Danny off. Lucky Hannibal had been too tired from fighting Dommer and Danny to kill Murdoc right away. Lucky.

Seemed like an awful lot of luck for coincidences. Marley even looked proud as he brushed his muzzle a last time. The boat was taking off, and he had to be on it. The Waxing Moon Peanut had given him his mission; to meet with the older Forgotten Bloods and check in on the mainland Skies, or nicknamed “Storm Clouds”.

The ride across the water was soothing. He had lived. He had healed….. sort of. During the fight against Hannibal his nose had gotten messed up again - and after he and his littermate regained consciousness Salem had made it worse by batting him across his snout. It still stung but the fact it could sting - the fact he was alive - was amazing…..!

Billy Boy, a much older Forgotten, met him when the boat docked and led Murdoc into the town they’d be residing in. He seemed to be ‘in charge’, and even invited Murdoc to watch a fight sometime. It seemed rather boring, following and listening to Billy Boy; it was hardly a change from the island…

So Murdoc invested in other ways. The young tom moved among the crowds on nights of the fights, making bets and showing a move or two that was meant to kill quick and efficiently. Apparently these mainland Storm Clouds didn’t get training, they were merely recruited…. So his offers were taken with a grain of salt. Some even spat at him for acting better than them. Which he was. He knew a good many ways to kill them and they’d just bat at his face!

Even still, he managed to find a group he did like. Tiny, Crunch, Rocky, and Munch seemed to know the best way to enjoy freedom. Fight, find pretty she-cats in fancy fenced yards, make smaller cats catch your food for you, and find the places that had that really good smelling plant!

All good things had to come to an end though, and Murdoc wasn’t any happy when one morning some broad Watchman dragged him to the island. He wasn’t sure what to expect; he was sure he was supposed to make some sort of plea to Jack and Sally, but he didn’t think he wanted to come back…

He froze when he padded into camp and spotted Hannibal, the big dark cat dragging Jack out of camp. Dead. His eyes turned to spot a small molly, belly a little bigger to show how well fed she was, clean and looking pleased with herself as she looked around the camp.

He remembered her as a kit. Her litter had had a Royal before his. Normally Stars did not have Royals but Sally’s last litter had a lot of stigma of not being Jacks, and a point had to be made.

Binx was that point.

She had been an Easy Blood like him; runt of the litter and all three of Sally’s kits had been tormented by the Moon Court, Jack included, leading up to their Royal. It appeared the molly had ended Jacks reign over her…. in a way he that as almost proud. Good for her.

Mismatched eyes followed to where Lana, Curly, Archer, Jitterbug and Peanut stood. Sally was nowhere to be seen….

“Murdoc.” The dark tom turned and looked to where Binx was, spotting the ghostly white figure next to her. Casper. “Murdoc, I hear Billy Boy is dead.”

“Word travels fast for you.” He snorted. “He only passed last night. Old fugger.”

She didn’t seem amused. “…. We’re sending a young tom named Titus with you back to the mainland. You’ll be leading the Storm Clouds.”

Well this ceremony was certainly short. Wasn’t he supposed to greet the new Moon Bitsh by name and see who she chose as her Court? Though looking at how relaxed her older ‘siblings’ looked they would probably remain as her Court for now….

“Don’t worry Murdoc. We’ll invite you back when the court is properly filled.” Binds smirk made him roll his eyes. He crossed the camp and spotted the fluffy tom who would be joining him on the ferry. At least he could get out of here.

#murdoc #September contest #writings #stories #rogues #black skies #submission

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sheepydraws · 7 years

Text

And So They Lived (3/6)

Part 1 Part 2

Odd sat down in the stairwell and put his head in his hands. He said he would just go over to Jeremie’s and hang out, but he couldn’t. He avoided that entire side of the dorm.

He understood. He really did. If he had someone to make out with he’d be at it every chance he got. But maybe he’d get with someone with a single? Or had more neglectful parents? Besides, if he didn’t leave he would have to watch them sitting on Ulrich’s bed, cuddling and chatting or watching dumb videos. No amount of trashy electronica in his headphones or bizarre and vivd imagery across his computer screen could block that out.

So he said he’d go hang at Jeremie’s since it was getting too cold at night to go on long walks in the woods. He wished Kiwi was still around. Not so Odd had and excuse to be out of the room, but so that he could leave Kiwi there and he would stare at them while they hooked up till they got uncomfortable.

All the things he did to keep that dog safe from the school board and XANA killed him. It wasn’t even calculated as far as anyone could tell. Just a bad mix of exposed wiring and an overly inquisitive snout. Jim caught them burying him and blustered over, asking what on earth they thought they were doing with those shovels, but then he noticed that Odd was crying so hard he was shaking. He stood there while Odd and Yumi dug, head bowed. When the headmaster passed by Jim jogged over to him and they talked for a while before leaving. No one bothered the five of them after that. Jeremie read a bible passage he had printed out, something simple about putting a soul to rest. Aelita carved a sigil into the freshly turned earth and left marigold seeds in it.

It was the nicest send off that turd of a dog could have asked for.

XANA’s parting had been less ceremonious. Odd had thought it was over when they shut the supercomputer off for the last time, but about a week later Jeremie called him.

“I keep having these dreams where it lights up again all on it’s own.”

“Aelita’s the one who has visions, Einstein.” Odd mumbled into his pillow. Besides the abrasions and sprained ankle he felt like he was coming down with a low grade cold. It didn’t help that Jeremie had called him at five in the morning.

“I know. I know. We cut all the power cords, we smashed the circuit boards, but I can’t help but wonder if she’s still in there somewhere.”

Odd rolled over on to his back and squinted in the early morning sunlight. “So? You want us to take the whole thing apart?”

“Yes.”

Odd groaned. “Why don’t we figure out why the building’s been abandoned all this time while we’re at it, eh?”

At least Yumi was put on that job, tracking down the deed. Odd preferred working with the welding torch or prying wires apart. Their last few weeks of summer fell into a pattern: Wake up early, walk down to the factory, take things apart for a few hours, lunch, a little more work, and then goofing off for a while before heading to bed. Occasionally Odd would think to ask why they were never in the factory after sundown, but then he would shudder and the urge would pass.

Jeremie was even more obsessed with tearing everything down than he had been with resurrecting Aelita. He filled journal after journal with drawings and pictures and notes as they took the transfer tubes apart.

“Do you think you’ll ever build them again?” Ulrich asked once they had taken apart the first tube and Jeremie was satisfied that he didn’t need to monitor the dismemberment of the other three as closely. “I mean, you took all those notes cause you want to reverse engineer it, right?” He made grabby fingers and Jeremie passed him the large screwdriver, the one they used as a small crowbar.

“I think the knowledge is worth having, but I don’t know if there will ever be a real use for them.”

“Are you kidding?” Odd said, grunting a little as the panel Ulrich had been working off the tube came free and it’s full weight landed in his arms. He heaved it to the side and Aelita hauled it off to add to the pile of scrap metal upstairs.

“What?” Jeremie said.

“There are like a million things you could do with these! A fully immersive gaming experience aside, the army funded them the first time, they’d probably pay for them again.”

“Odd’s right.” Yumi said from where she had set up camp at the side of the transfer room. Even with her fractured arm she was doggedly typing away, trying to figure out who had the deed for the factory, and if they had, in fact, been paying the power bills. She didn’t have to, but she was there every day with the rest of them, sitting out of the way with Aelita’s laptop. “If you got the patent on these you could be a billionaire.”

Jeremie made a face. “But I didn’t build these. I’d be profiting off someone else’s work.”

“Aelita could submit it, then.”

“Aelita could submit what?” Aelita asked as she walked back in.

Jeremie passed her a pair of wire cutters. “Yumi was just saying that if we patented the transfer tubes, and the coding behind them, we could make a lot of money.”

Aelita turned to the massive cables that covered the inside of the tube like arteries and snipped the cutters absently. As they had done the last time, Odd and Ulrich would get all the panels off the tube, while Jeremie and Aelita started on the wiring inside. Then they would get out the ladder, rip out the chunks of metal that held the tube to the ceiling, and work their way down until there was nothing left except for a few bolt holes in the floor.

“We are the only people in the world who know how to work it.” Aelita said as she cut the top of a bundle of cables. “And it’s my father’s invention. I probably would have gotten the money one way or another.”

Odd took another sheet of metal from Ulrich and dragged it to the elevator. By the time he got back Yumi had been asked to open a new word document and was taking dictation on possible uses for the transfers.

Of course that had been summer vacation. Now it was the middle of October and what was left of the super computer and the tubes were in boxes in Jeremie’s room. They had sold a lot of it as scrap metal, the rest Jeremie wanted to repurpose. Maybe it comforted Jeremie, or gave him a sense of closure to put XANA’s pieces back together as useful, normal computers, but Odd still didn’t know the first thing about technology, and all he saw was XANA slowly invading the world again. Jeremie explained to him over and over that it was like using the organs of a cadaver to give new life, but Odd’s fear was just getting worse. He couldn’t be in Jeremie’s room anymore without feeling like the boxes were breathing, spilling the same dark smoke-nanoparticles, he now knew-that trailed through the last four years of his life.

“Are you going to throw up?”

Odd jumped. He had his head buried in his hands for so long the fluorescent lights seared his eyes and he had to blink rapidly before Sissi’s face came into focus.

“What are you doing here?”

She shrugged. “Nicholas was sick. I brought him some vitamin C and stuff.”

“I thought you two weren’t friends anymore.” Ever since Nicholas finally started his own band.

“Yeah, but we were. And he’s sick.”

This isn’t the kind of logic Odd would have expected from Sissi. It’s shockingly nice. But then, more than one thing about Sissi had been shocking lately.

“You wanna watch a movie?” Odd asked.

Sissi shifted the weight on her hips and he couldn’t help but notice A. she had hips, and 2. the way the fabric of her jeans stretched across them was mouth watering.

“Which one?” She asked, rightfully suspicious of his taste after last time.

“You choose.”

“Like Water For Chocolate.” She said, with a decisive nod.

Odd stood up and felt light headed for a second as all the blood rushed to his feet. “It’s another romance, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but then you cry.” She looked him up and down. “You look like you’re in the mood for that.”

Odd didn’t respond, just followed her to her room. There was still candy left over from last time, but it paled in comparison to the food porn on screen. And the actual porn.

“Jesus.” Odd muttered about halfway through. It was embarrassing enough watching two people make out with Sissi next to him, now he had to see bare breasts too?

“That’s completely non-sexual, Odd. Grow up.”

Odd smacked the space bar. “I’m sorry, you want me to rewind it? Did the narrator lady not just say, ‘The passion of his lover’s gaze transformed-‘“

“It’s a metaphor.”

There was an extended stare down, which Sissi won by pressing play.

“I don’t know how I’m going to cry about this.” Odd said.

“It’s like Romeo and Juliet. It sneaks up on you.”

Odd considered this, but, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Romeo and Juliet.”

Sissi paused the movie again, just so she could look at him aghast.

“Okay,” She said, slapping the space bar, “We’re watching that next.”

Odd did not appreciate the assumption that he was ever going to do this again. But he did cry at the end. It was beautiful. He tried to explain exactly what was so beautiful about the last scene even as he watched it, but he choked on the words and just cried. Something about that made Sissi laugh, though tears rolled down her cheeks too.

“I always cry at the end.” She managed. “Every time. Same with Romeo and Juliet.”

Odd tried to say something back, but he was crying too hard. He kept it up right through the credits. Sissi sat with him till he finished. She didn’t say much, or rub his shoulders or anything like that, but she walked him back to to his dorm. Odd wasn’t sure how that might look, but it felt good to have a buffer against anyone he might run into, even if Sissi might have been one of the people he dreaded seeing under other circumstances.

“Good night.” She said as he opened the dormitory’s front door.

“Night.” He replied, his voice shaky and spent.

Ulrich was still up when Odd kicked his way into the room, but Yumi was long gone. “Where have you been?” He asked.

“Out.” Odd said as he sat down on his bed and wrestled his boots off.

Ulrich looked up from his laptop. “Were you crying?”

Odd touched his cold cheeks. He considered telling Ulrich the truth, but ‘I was having a heart to heart with Elizabeth Delmas’ sounded like sarcasm. “Nah. Just kind of drippy from the wind.”

“I’m sorry about that. We probably shouldn’t be sending you out when it’s this cold.”

“No, I-I was in the library. Watched some stuff in the media room. It was fine.” That was when Odd decided not to say anything about Sissi. It wasn’t a big deal. Not like he was going over to her place all the time, slowly working his way through her massive movie collection. They were almost all romances, many of them rom-coms. She always warned him if he would cry at the end, and he was surprised the first time he told her he wasn’t in a crying mood.

A/N: Like Water for Chocolate and Romeo and Juliet are both about star crossed lovers and for both of them I spend the first 3/4 quarters laughing inappropriately and the rest crying.

The best movie version of Romeo and Juliet (in my humble opinion) is Romeo+Juliet with Leonardo DiCaprio. It’s colorful and stylized and it makes you believe in Romeo and Juliet’s love, which is what a successful production must do. (It’s why i don’t like West Side Story, but that’s a rant for another day).

Part 4

#code lyoko #odd della robbia #sissi delmas #elizabeth delmas #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #fanfiction #multi-chapter

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