Westley D.
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“Inbred…?” Andre’s brows raised in puzzlement, but then lowered in recognition when he saw the approaching trio. “Oh, you mean Axel.” Rafe gave the omé a stern look. “Don’t tell me he harasses you, too?” “No. Well, um, if passing comments don’t count.” Silver eyes narrowed further. “And?” Andre’s shoulders sagged, suddenly exhausted. “A slap or shove here or there.” Rafe had an inkling his friend was treated worse than he was letting on. It was like these groups of egot
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A mouth-watering waft of cinnamon invaded the room as Jan marched in with a plate of rolls, disapproving eyes laid on Andre. Said omé’s eyes flitted between his caretaker and the plate of delicious cinnamon rolls, tapping his foot with a whimper. Rafe had the sudden need to soothe his friend and shoo Jan out but ignored it this time. He hoped the old woman had a better chance at convincing Andre’s stubborn ass than him. “Yup. You gotta go. No questions asked,” Jan said matter-of-factly as s
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“I didn’t know he’d be here,” was the first thing West said to Neil as they stood before each other in the middle of the court, the former clutching the basketball. The latter’s features softened a bit when he turned to the blond, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. Dickhead does shit like this all the time. I don’t know why I’m so pressed about it to be honest.” “It does seem sudden, doesn’t it?” Neil pursed his lips tighter as he took a peeved glance at his older cousin, wh
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Yeah, looking back now, I cringe at the way I wrote the way Jarekid speaks (he's supposed to be Scottish). I'll have to fix later dialogue since he's not the only one who speaks that way. Thanks for giving it a chance anyway!
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The Graybite Tribe. Also known as the most powerful and dangerous tribe in all of werewolf history. The Northern Claw Nation, which included Graybite and the eleven other tribes in the vicinity, was formidable as a whole, but Graybite reigned at the top in terms of its military prowess and the ability to enforce the will of the Majestic Moon Monarchy, the royal court that ruled over all of wolf-kind. In the Canadian Rockies was the notorious Graveltara Woods, where the Graybite Tribe p
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The sharp squeaking of sneakers and the resounding thumps of basketballs echoed throughout the gymnasium. West reached up and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he skidded across the court, slamming his shoulders into his opponents and letting his arms flail before him whenever the ball was close. His mind was chaos – from keeping the other game on the other half of the court going on in his peripheral to Neil a few feet away from him in his own game and how sexy he looked in a jersey to the t
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Andre the Omega and Rafe Gold are in luck. That, or they’re rather unfortunate, for they have been selected to be enrolled into the most prominent yet enigmatic educational institution for all species, humans and magi. Little do they know, they are stepping onto a battlefield, rife with internal war and unchecked by figures of authority. The two friends are caught in the middle of it and in need of help if they want to survive Ironward Academy.
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4 Years Later Dock town afternoons were chockfull of noises that got every busybody rolling. The purposeful and purposeless chatter of workers and neighbors. The drumming of wood as the residents moved down the waterfront boardwalk. The rushing waters as boats sailed to and from the harbor. But what really livened up the day was the sounds of brawling. Thwack! Fwoosh! Zoom! The spectacle that accompanied these noises was a sight to behold. It was not often the populace o
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I just wanted to look at the plants. Andre repeated this to himself even as his pursuers howled and growled behind him, taunting as five rowdy teenagers looking for a victim to beat on chased their prey through the soggy vegetation of the forest. Coming out here all alone was already a bad idea, already knowing in the back of his dark brown-haired head that they would follow him, but he couldn’t be afraid forever. Plus, as long as he was compliant, they never went too far with extracti
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Sunday, November 25th, 2012 Hey! West again. The older West, I mean. It’s been a while since I checked in. I actually thought that I was interjecting a little too much aside from the interviews and personal accounts, but I guess that wasn’t the case. Anyway, I’m still here and writing this. And yes, I wrote the sex parts, too. I didn’t want to, but I just had to go and lose at a dare. That’s a long story. Anyways, I wanted to address that things are finally going to start com
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Friday, October 5th, 2012 Two weeks. Two weeks later and the only bit of evidence they had was Bran’s license plate. They were sure he had been kidnapping children and was trying to nab some from the group home, but other than that, proof of other wrongdoings was being pretty elusive. West hated sitting on it, wanting to the image straight to the police, but Kaspar was somehow able to convince him: “Hold onto it. We need to play our cards right. If we do, we can nip this in the bu
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The following is a collection of unsent letters written by the late Antonio Morterero-Rabellino, former Tuct Side Saturns leader, who died on July 4th, 2004 in an unsolved homicide. December 1st, 2002 I went to visit Jaime and his wife and kids a few days ago. They all seem to be doing better than ever. Mi hermano is now the governor of New York, Adara is still sweet and head over heels for him, and the kids seem to be getting along. A lot different from my own. It’s honestly quite str
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Monday, September 17th, 2012 Pleasure reverberated across the walls. A symphony of heat and ecstasy sending the temperature of the room soaring. The constant thrusting. The constant pounding. And the constant guttural groans and grunts from both boys created a delightful thoroughfare that they were desperate enough to reach but would enjoy paving the way towards. The gasping bottom, his blond hair splayed out on the pillow, gazed up at his partner with grass-green eyes. Light
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Sunday, September 16th, 2012 “So,“ Kaspar started even as he bounced the basketball while the other three surrounded him. “Let’s go over what we know now.” Justin’s shoulders sagged as he gave the redhead an annoyed look. “During our game, though?” “I’m not waiting on this, man. We gotta talk about it at some point.” “How about, I don’t know, after a few rounds?” “How about,” Finn swooped in and snatched the ball from a scowling Kaspar and aimed his shot, “every time one
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How common was sex in bars? Apparently, it was a common occurrence. West came to that conclusion when Neil led him through another door at the end of the lengthy bathroom, unlocking it with a golden key stashed in his pocket. His rival was no stranger to this place most likely having come here after many performances before even if they were still high school students. West wondered if anybody could come in here or if the band received special treatment here as well. The two crossed in
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Actually, those are lyrics from real songs that have something to do with the situation. (Maybe Neil knows that🤫😉) 1. Misery Business by Paramore 2. Sex On Fire by Kings of Leon 3. Use Somebody by Kings of Leon
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Saturday, September 15th, 2012 West never had to sneak out before. One would think that being the son of a famous foreign basketball player, he would be locked away in his bedroom with five three-hundred-pound bodyguards around his door, never hoping to see the light of day again. That might have crossed his mother’s mind once or twice, especially recently, but thank whatever god was out there that his father had the attitude that he did. Friedrich was a strong, proud man, and he belie
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Monday, September 10th, 2012 The next day at school was pandemonium. Kaspar, Justin, and Finn were the first ones on him, one question after the other flying out and landing without a concrete answer. More speculations hovered before them as they attempted to piece together the messy, complicated puzzle that was Tuct Side. “He’s the fall guy,” Kaspar surmised as he leaned against his locker. “I’m sure of it. Probably a rookie wanting to get in.” “Nah,” Justin spoke as his arm
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Saturday, September 8th, 2012 “We’re calling the police.” Kaspar muttered coldly as he gazed into the blaze of the campfire they had started in the backyard of Finn’s cottage home. A pang of panic hit West’s stomach as he stiffened in his lawn chair. “Wait-” “We’re calling the police, West!” the redhead spat, his rage having breached past the forced calm he put on while listening to his three friends recount the incident near the tail-end of yesterday. It had him shooting str
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The following is a phone conversation between two unknown subjects, their voices altered in advance for anonymity. The two suspects have yet to be confirmed, but the topic of the discussion appears to revolve around Nigel “Neil” Morterero. Date Recorded: Friday, September 7th, 2012 | 5:01 A.M. Subject-1: ‘Ello? Subject-2: He’s not doin’ it. S-1: What? S-2: He ain’t doin’, man. None of ‘em are. S-1: Wait. We talkin’ about…? S-2: Yes, Neil! Who else!? S-1: A
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It took half an hour, but the window of opportunity finally presented itself. West thought about going to Kaspar first and letting him in on what transpired earlier, but he figured someone had to be kept in the mood for the party. Neil and his band had headed off somewhere after finishing two more songs, and now the team captain was on the chase for his rival. As he hurried through the crowd, briefly greeting and nodding at familiar and famous faces on the way, his green eyes swiveled right
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West hurried through corridor after corridor, searching for the food stand Finn had mentioned in his text. This place was a labyrinth, being as luxurious as it was. He felt lost the moment he stepped off the field. If this was one of the reasons Isaak’s college hated this Humberston, then he understood that now. It felt like hours had passed when he found a black metal rack that could pass of as a food stand. His eyes inspected its surroundings, void of people with only the sounds of the party c
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Friday, September 7th, 2012 “So…” Isaak drawled as he sat in the passenger’s seat of West’s car. “So…?” the latter repeated. The two were on their way to the eldest Kuttner sibling’s birthday party, which, unbeknownst to him, was located at Humberston, a rival college to Isaak’s chosen school, Anninberg. It really helped for their father to be as famous as he was. Money could mend temporary bridges, it seemed. “How slumped are you planning to get tonight?” “You mean like
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Thursday, September 6th, 2012 A day later, after Cynthia and Malachi got hitched, and after another wedding this morning tying Scott’s aunt to a man named Filipe Hernández, the four boys met up with each other ten minutes before football practice, lounging in the school cafeteria for a quick snack. “I’m just thinking we should head down to Idaho City,” West suggested shyly as he munched on graham crackers. “You know, check out Malachi’s church.” Justin groaned, scratching his alre
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The following narrative is recounted by: ISAAK KUTTNER You know, I never thought I’d end up writing about myself after college. I figured all that was a thing of the past since I never had to fill out a resume for a job or anything like that. Interviews were what all the cool kids were trying nowadays. Fortunately, I’m still hip because, being the founder and CEO of my own beverage company – Kuttner’s Drinkers, Inc., since I knew you were wondering – I give those out like candy. And ju
