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[b1uedcollar]

“   A  PUSSY  AIN’T  A  CUSS   !   S’A  TYPE  OF  PERSON.   ”

[b1uedcollar]

he likes cowan.  lotta people don’t.  noggins all filled up with some poison,  an uncertainty,  because they just can’t look a homeless man in the eye,  —  BUNCHA FUCKIN’ PUSSIES.  so,  it’s no surprise cody’s patrol got dispatched to this very parking lot more than once.   PEACHES USED TO RESEMBLE SOMETHIN’ RESPECTABLE.   ol’ bear only swatting a curious young boy outta the joint when he took too many underage sips from whatever was on tap.  MUCH BETTER THAN ‘EM NUDIE MAGAZINES,  guy was somethin’ almost holy in cody’s mind.  a goddamn legend,  and they never die.  until they do.

and their idiot son nosedives all that respectability to a fiery crash.  which,  unfortunately,  cody can’t look away from.  s’all crime and lil punishment these days.  and jake,  THAT SUM’BITCH,  didn’t want cowan anywhere inside.  not so much outta worry for da gals or even public safety.  man’s observant,  some might even say sneaky,  and could learn too much ‘bout the comings and goings of such a shit establishment.  but,  cody made a deal:  the lot’s neutral ground.

with grill nights quickly planted in the rotation,  patrol or not,  cody now found himself lighting up almost every night of the week.  that off-duty cut-off hangin’ by a thread as he puts away the makeshift restaurant  (one n’em classic foldable lawn chairs,  the melted ice chest that held cowan’s root beer,  and too many buns and patties for two).  ‘em pretty brown eyes ain’t go unnoticed,  and of course,  he tries to keep her ‘round.   “ DUNNO,  MA’AM.  THAT RIGHT HOOK AIN’T GUNNA COST ME NUTTIN’ WITHOUT SOME MEAT ON Y’BONES. ”   curling the bottle like a weight,   “ THIS HERE HE-LICKS-HER, ”   —that’s what she said [elixir], huh?—   “ NEEDS SOME GRUB TO SEEP IN ALL GOOD,  SO HOW YOU WANTCHA BURGER? ”

when's the last time you ate? (from cody!) @b1uedcollar

SHE  COULDN’T  RECALL  THE  LAST  TIME  ANYBODY  ASKED  HER  THAT.  much  to  say  that  not  a  soul  outside  the  girls  she  used  to  live  with  really  thought  enough  to  inquire.  she’s  not  in  the  line  of  work  that  calls  for  empathy  coming  back.  took  a  whole  second  to  recall  her  day,  thought  interrupted  when  he  gently  snatched  the  bottle  of  diet  coke  right  from  her  hand.  ❛ ayy  !  you  better  give  that  back’  for  you  catch  a  right  hook.  ❜  she’s  only  half  joking.  spark  of  outrage  looks  a  lot  like  a  raised  brow  and  parted  cherry  lips,  heels  stomping  just  a  little  in  protest.

her  arms  cross,  head  tilted  up  as  she  reaches  for  the  only  thing  keeping  her  buzzing  about  most  days.  ❛ you  gon  ‘  ask  a  question  like  that  then  take  my  life’s  elixir  away,  honey  that’s  just  cruel.  ❜  lips  pout  in  slight.  KEEPS  HER  FROM  ANSWERING  ALL  TOGETHER.

[b1uedcollar]

you're sweet, when you want to be.

one of ‘em big sniffs.  loud,  obnoxious,  pulling away all the attention  [y’know the ones].  but nuttin’ budges.  just sits in the back of his throat.  SOMETHIN’ ABOUT A COMPLIMENT.  hits him like spoiled milk.  eyes dropped,  deliberate in their focus.  ‘em lungs feelin’ tighter.  restricting.  cody finally hocks back that loogie.  (on his other side,  away from her.  to his credit.)   “ NAW.  S’ALL SALT,  BEB. ”   gives a big ol’lick from his wrist all the way to his elbow.   “ WANNA TASTE? ”

[b1uedcollar]

unprompted.  /  @skunkks

‘course he got binoculars.  hanging by some spit,  like he’s got a cigar tucked between ‘em teeths,  he’s got a fat slim jim.  A BRIBE,  PROBABLY.  to get cody out stargazing.  eyes scan the perimeter,  drool pooling ‘round that jim,  before his voice booms.   “ HEY!  GOT SOMETHING! ”   reminiscent of a kid reeling in their first fish. back of his hand’s rough when it rubs away the drool.   “ THAT BIG ASS ONE?  STARTS WITH,  UH,  D?  YEAH,  RIGHTCHERE— ”   gnawing on that stick with nuttin’ but bad manners,  cody moves ‘em binoculars downward with a shit-eating grin.   “ YUP,  THE BIG DICK! ”

[b1uedcollar]

CODY IS A WALKING HEADACHE.  jaw exhausted from being set most of the night,  [ when he wasn’t sneaking a few seeds ‘tween the slower parts of his watch ]  throat aching for somethin’ stronger than that hours-too-old coffee he’s sipping on.  this  ART THANG  had gone a lil too long. much longer than he coulda s'expected.  THEM  RICHIE  RICH  TYPES  SURE  COULD  TALK  ABOUT  SOME  FINGER  PAINTING.  and since cody was on the hook for a friend, he promised to keep ‘em safe for the night.  from whatever  YAHOOLIGAN  would be stupid enough to wanna steal off the walls of this here art gallery.

s’all quiet  ( SHEET, BEEN TOO CAREFUL NOT TO USE THAT WORD ALL NIGHT, BUT HERE HE GOES ! )  on the western front, most of the  ..  what’em were callin’ themselves again? oh, yeah.  —  ‘em PATRONS now departed. staff clankin’ and swooshin’ to clear out the remains. cody works against his bones by choosing not to help move a table or two, under strict instructions to follow HER, which includes walkin’ to the vehicle’n all.  and, doing the math, she’s been on ‘em feet longer than him. she’s gotta be tired. ain’t gunna hurt if he pushes a lil. maybe she’ll even wanna leave sooner.  SO,  ‘COURSE,  CODY  TAKES  AIM  AT  MISS  DEXTER  HERSELF.  because watching her work to keep that composure is just too damn funny. s’gotta bite his grin away.

“ MAIS YEAH, ”   laying that accent on thick, thick. admittedly, he does know more about ‘em turtles than he does this  sister chapel  fella she’s yappin’ on about.   “ DAS WHAT THEY CALL THAT LADY IN THE SINGING NUN MOVIE? HUH? ”   and maybe he does like art more than he lets on. ‘specially some fishing and hunting landscapes that look more like pictures. but he ain’t see nun of ‘em on her walls.

“michelangelo,    ..    like the turtle?” ( cody @ alexandra )

@b1uedcollar

"Like the --" Alexandra found herself unable to finish repeating Cody's response as she closed her eyes and lightly pinched the bridge of her nose, head bowed. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn she felt a headache beginning to build. Fortunately, her brain had chosen to work faster than her reflexes in that particular moment, because she was literal milliseconds away from smacking him upside the head. "Michelangelo as in the artist who painted the Sistine Chapel," she corrected, doing her best to keep her tone steady and neutral while reclaiming eye contact. "You do know what the Sistine Chapel is, don't you?" One could only hope.

[b1uedcollar]

THE YEARS ARE UNKIND. HE  BECOMES  THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE.  chains rattling against a metal gate, locked up to save everybody on the outside from what lurks within. except those few brave kids who’ll rang the doorbell every halloween night. hastily dropping their flashlights on the porch as they haul ass outta there, ‘em beams cut through the glass.  he  died  in  that  childhood  bedroom,  didn’t  he? settling into a heavy blanket of dust over shelves of trophies, crawling over those creaky floorboards. whispered eulogies for the person he should have been echoing from the walls through ‘em narrow halls.  this  ain’t  a  maze  made  for  escaping.   and he knows this. of course he does. makes him double,  —  no, triple lock those chains.

WHATEVER  WALKS  HERE,  WALKS  ALONE.

his nose ain’t growing? because he’s a goddamn liar.  [ always count on that. ]  haunting is a lonely pursuit.  so it’s no surprise he walks now with @likesouvenirs  ..  in an actual haunted house. where the cobwebs under his skin, carrying that rotten blood, are made real.  creeping against ‘em hairs that stand along his arms.  and,  —  nope!  he ain’t tapping out. and he won’t do that stupid lil dance of fighting a spider in front of her.  [ he won’t give her that satisfaction. ]  ain’t nothing scraping against his skin ‘cept maybe his thinning patience.

“ HOW BIG ARE THESE GODDAMN SPIDERS? ”   a shutter escapes him, fuck, before he’s reaching for his concealed carry. but he’s interrupted by a sudden CRACK! to his head that nearly knocks him off his balance.  did  she  just  whack  him?   “ FER WHAT?! ”   teeth suck in somethin’ to soothe the slight burn.  he’s playing with too much fire right now.   “  ain’t nuttin’ but a dang piñata t’ya. HUH? ”

cody’s rubbing that wound for emphasis.   WHATEVER WALKS HERE, SHOULD WALK ALONE.   trying not to trip over his dang words, he shovels the conversation like one of ‘em kiddos stuffing a half-lifted shirt under some piñata.   “ y’ain’t lure me outchere to this whore’ya [HORROR] house just’t beat my meat. ”   there were better ways to accomplish that, and she knew it.   “ split ‘em cheeks’n git yappin’. ”

[b1uedcollar]

you know you have a tell when you lie? cody from val!

S’GOOD THANG THEY AIN’T PLAYIN’ POKER THEN.  flash of dip-stained white,  that fat lip curls.  because she ain’t wrong.  few would say cody’s tell is whenever he gets to openin’ that yap on him.  some know better.  takes one to know one.   “ WHALESHEET,  WHO SNITCHIN’?  ..  SWEAR!  GOT NOT ONE DANG SIX ON ME. ”   hand of cards up in surrender,  eyes only wavering from his opponent long ‘nuff to drop to the card puddle between ‘em,  as that goddamn grin’s stretchin’.   “ NOW,  BEB,  Y’BETTER GET TO FISHIN’! ”

[b1uedcollar]

[ 🎰 ]  /  @foxtaeil  .   s’a fact he’s always known,  even before she commanded that oval.  (ain’t something fitzgerald appreciated ‘nuff from cody’s pee-oh-vee, but spoiled brats like’m rarely did.)  SHE’S THE MOST POWERFUL WOMAN IN THE WORLD.  and,  yet,  scheduling conflicts  proved to be one tough sum’bitch.  not a shade of lead left to pencil in that goddamn backwoods [ex]brother-in-law.  ever the persistent possum,  cody refused to let tradition die.  they were going on the annual hunt,  —  one way or the other.   which is how he found himself in front of one ‘em deer hunting arcade set-ups and handing a fake gun to mellie.   “ THERE  AIN’T  NUTTIN’  LIKE  THE  REAL  THANG,  BEB,  Y’KNOW  THAT  MUCH. ”   but he was used of all that.  the  it’ll have to do  of it all.  ‘specially in the presence of the former missus grant.   “ AFTER YOU,  MADAMN PRESIDENT. ”

[b1uedcollar]

s’gotta be here somewhere.  ain’t no way that lil gremlin’s tall ‘nuff to get ‘em hands up’n here.  but cody’s been rummaging too long at this point,  patience running thin.  so,  of course,  he nearly blasts through these cheap ass cabinets.  (gunna have to take care of ‘em for her.)

breathy curses from the ouch-y cut short.  because,  damn,  does she got that mom’s voice down.  crawlin’ up the length of his spine and biting down on cody’s pulse point.  hand up to save yet another thump of the head,  he finally comes up for air.   “ALRIGHT,  NOW!  NO NEED TO GET LOUD,  BROU.”   still,  his voice lowers accordingly with each syllable.  cody flashes the emergency pack of dill pickle flavored sunny seeds with a matching glint of his teeths.  everybody knew he gave ‘em up for lent.  ain’t never felt a longer forty days in his goddamn life.

   “SNUCK A STASH A WHILE BACK.”   a lick of his lips,  one swift motion got him rippin’ open the bag with his teeth and shovelin’ seeds into his big ol’ mouth.   “THANK GOD,”   he moans,   “‘CUZ PENNY’S SICK’N I THINK THAT OL’ BASTARD TAKIN’ SPACE AT HER REGISTER IS HIDING ‘EM FROM ME.  CAN Y’BELIEVE THAT?”

@b1uedcollar  asks  :  ‘quiet  …  do  not  wake  it.’  (  amelie  /  cody  ) 

exhausted  doesn’t  begin  to  describe  whatever  hell  she’s  going  through  right  now.  the  first  kid  wasn’t  this  bad,  but  then  again,  she  had  some  semblance  of  help,  even  if  it  was  bare  fuckin’  minimum  at  best.  so  when  cody  drops  in,  unannounced  as  he  tends  to  do,  and  insists  on  riflin’  through  her  cabinets  for  god  only  knows  what,  liquor,  snacks,  her  lackluster  hurricane  /  rainy  day  fund  she’s  got  hidden  in  an  old  coffee  can  ?  never  can  tell  with  that  one. 

but  when  he  bumps  something  and  elicits  a  noise  that  is  an  octave  louder  than  either  would  have  liked,  her  eyes  narrow  and  she  shifts  her  attention  towards  him,  speaking  with  purpose. 

“quiet  …  do  not  wake  it.”

the  blonde  says  in  response,  her  voice  laced  with  poison,  threatening  what  would  likely  be  violence  if  the  sound  of  whatever  shenanigans  he  was  involving  himself  in  whilst  in  her  house  woke  the  sleeping  beast  that  was  her  feral  two  year  old.  is  it  wrong  to  refer  to  her  child  as  an  it,  maybe,  but  she's  mostly  out  of  fucks  to  give  at  her  current  juncture.  who  knew  single  mom-ing  it  was  going  to  be  this  hard. 

“the  ‘ell  you  even  lookin’  for  in  there?” 

she  asks,  tilting  her  head  to  the  side  in  natural  curiosity.  it’s  not  like  she  had  some  kind  of  deep  dark  secret  harbored  in  the  top  cabinets  of  the  kitchen,  hell  she  could  barely  afford  to  turn  around  in  there  as  it  is.  utilizing  cabinet  space  for  something  unnecessary  would  have  been  real  dumb  of  her. 

[b1uedcollar]

[ 🎣 ]  SHUT UP AND FISH,  @wildfiregold  .

contrary the canary  !  CODY  CAN  COUNT.  always been quite the mathematician,  actually,  and without using ‘em fingers  (somethin’ he outgrew back in,  — uhh  ..  middle school?  but he’s gunna keep in his back pocket for when he needs the emphasis).  all those damn numbers knockin’ and a-rollin’ around that noggin of his.  whispering a noose on his neck like he’s walking some plank,  as ‘em blues follow her [fishing] line,  saying the same damn thing:  CHUCKLES  IS  BETTER  THAN  HIM.   cody wears that weight of defeat,  shoulders slumped and ‘em chapped lips hanging  down  for  the  count.  somethin’ ruff rumbling from his chest.  ain’t no sense in denying she’s caught more.   “ Y’AINT GUNNA MAKE ME BUY Y’NO DAMN SWEETENED TAMPONS?  HUH? ”   yeah ..  diving blind is stupid,  but so is betting on losing dogs.   “ KNOW Y’GOT THE DEVIL SWIMMING ‘ROUND N’EM VEINS,  CHUCKLES.  BETTA MAKE IT COUNT. ”

[b1uedcollar]

outside  PEE-OH-VEE,  with  ‘em  fish  fingers,  s’easy  to  think  cody  charpentier  a  certain  way.   (  and  he’s  gunna  give  y’that.  of  course  he  is.  go  on,  make  his  day!  )   but,  pop  that  warhead  in  y’mouth  there  and  prepare  for  some  blowback.   —   he  generally  washes  his  hands   (  and  bleaches  the  sink  where  he  gutted  that  fish  ).   sweeps  ‘em  wood  shavings  from  the  floor  with  his  very  own  broom.   and  stacks  what  needs  stacking.   everything  has  its  place  on  that  boathome  of  his.   his  front  door  ain’t  no  exception.  swinging  loudly  back  into  frame  and  announcing  his  arrival.

“  I   WASN'T   SNOOPING.  ”     /     @whitelace   .

he  nods  along  to  her  lying  song,  but  his  lips  don’t  hitch  to  any  other  visible  reaction.   he’s  all  torn  up.   cody   loves   catching   people   in   lies   almost   as   much   as   ‘em   fishes   he’s   gearing   up   to   fry.   but  s’lil  harder  to  dodge  the  heat  rising  from  someone  rifling  through  his  shit.   licks  his  lips  before  he  shoots,    “   find   whatcha   was   lookin’   for,   snoopy?   ”

[b1uedcollar]

this  old   hole   in   the   wall   s’been  cody  charpentier’s  stomping  grounds  for  a  running  decade  now.  business  picking  up  pace  after  its  close-up  on  that  one  album  cover  and  his  infamous  music  video.  but,  lately,  cody’s  been  gulping  down  juuuuuust  enough  to  keep  the  lights  on.  which,  fuck,     “turn  off  that  goddamn  spot,  huh?  ‘NUT!”   that  guitar  strap  cutting  deep  in  those  cracks  between  his  freckles,  as  he  swats  all  ‘em  frustrations  on  poor  chestnut.  but  that  squint  keeps  steady  even  after  she  flicks  the  switch.  through  the  rest  of  the  pointless  soundcheck.  and,   blink-‘n’-y’ll-miss-it,   cody’s  slapped  on  that  goofy  smile  to  work  a  crowd.   ain’t  no  way  he’s  hiding.   s’like   cheers!   everybody  knows  where  to  find  him.   or   whatever.   and  sure  ‘nuff,  as  he  surveys  the  crowd,  his  eyes  land  on  a  familiar  set  of  hooties.  and  he  nearly  erupts  into  a  BLOWFISH  song.   instead,  like  a  mating  call,  he  drawls  into  the  microphone.

    “  TURN   IT   UP   SOME…  ”    /    @likesouvenirs  :  🔊

[b1uedcollar]

his manager  [god, he hates callin’ her that.]  ..  CHESTNUT’s been on a record-breaking stretch of nutty ideas during his tour.  this here trip to the hospital starting no different.  look, ‘NUT  ..  she’s just so damn dramatic. insisting cody see a doctor after he took a mean fall off the stage during that goddamn pointless soundcheck  (‘least now he’s got a reason to hate ‘em even more).  coulda easily slapped on a bandaid and kicked on.  but,  NOPE!,  she just kept on and on about insurance and how she should not be able to see his fuckin’ bone.  nuttin’ even hurt  ..  until he saw the pretty doctor.  cody barely registered ‘em talking ‘bout dehydration and keeping him over night for evaluation.  tour be damned,  he’s in much better company now.   “ I’LL SLEEP NICE’N GOOD WHEN I’M DEAD AND JELLO FREAKS ME DA HECK OUT.  C’MON DOC,  STICK ‘ROUND A LIL LONGER. ”   delirious and desperate,  lips curving upward to reel her in.  what  a  catch.   “ STILL GOTTA HEAR ALL ‘BOUT YOUR FAVORITE SONG. ”

i’m wide awake. i’ve never been more awake in my life. (from cody!)

" uh huh, " amusement blooms across delicate features as she checks the levels on the iv, not that she'll admit it's an excuse to linger in the room longer than she should, " it's not like you should be asleep, it's not like sleep would be really good for you right now. tell you what, if you do get some sleep i'll make sure you get whatever jello you want when you wake up. "

.. @b1uedcollar

[b1uedcollar]

“    don’t   whisper-yell   at   me,   please.    ”

[b1uedcollar]

ain’t no such thangs as vamps runnin’ wild, but here she goes. summoning something when not a damn splinter of [real] wood’s around to knock on. he reaches for that green can of TONY’s instead, tapping out a lil hill of the garlic seasoning on his hand and licking it up. just in case one of ‘em suckers out there got the same powers as that glitter one who got all mad about his galpal enjoyin’ that werewolf’s company.  cody catches the bush she’s beatin’ around. a comeback even scratches his tongue, but he painfully swallows it down. he is still in the company of a lady.  he clears his throat, keeping his tone steady,   “  y’in  tiger  country,  beb.  ‘em cajuns don’t mess ‘round when it comes to their lsu football  ..  even in death.  ”

⋆♱✮♱⋆      "⸻  ya  think  vampires  ever  dip  their  toes  into  th'whole...      yanno..      bloody  kiss  type  shit?"      a  bite  of  her  lower  lip,      the  suppression  of  a  giggle,      "i  mean  obvs,      but  i'm  talkin'  like  crimson  wave  shit.      yanno  what  i  mean?"      ♡ @b1uedcollar

[b1uedcollar]

she’s funny.  but he ain’t giving her an inch,  let alone a [s]mile.  still gots plenty of twistin’m piggytails to do.   “ MUST BE ‘FORE BENNY FRANK’N THAT GUY WHO INVENTED THE PHONE. ”   a lil low hanging fruit to hint ‘bout how he can only reach her in person,  not like he wants her number anyway.   “told boss i’d make some sweet tea for somethin’.  can’t bring n’em gold peak bottles.  she made that clear.”   a beat,  glint of a split tooth.   “ AND Y’THE ONLY ONE I KNOW WHO AIN’T THROWN ALL HER TEA IN THE HARBOR. ”

she glances at him out of the corner of her eye, a twitch of a smile gracing her lips. "for you? pre-revolutionary war america." dark eyes glimmer with chaos. "what is it, cody?"