[P] [M] i'm at the door at a quarter to four
p. Myrkr
#1

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

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"HAHA!" His sharp, migraine-inducing laugh rung out like barks outside the bar, accompanied by real barks as he circled his truck, chasing one of the cats that hung around sometimes. The thing was mottled black, brown, and white, and had dumb big yellow eyes that shined in the dark or something like a weird possum. It wasn't Myrkr's cat - he knew that thing, and had started to leave it alone sometimes or else he'd give no-tail a heart attack or something - but other cats were totally one-hundred-percent free game.


The cat froze, wide yellow eyes with slit pupils gazing at Biff as he suddenly stopped. He let out another booming BOOF and stepped forward, and the cat turned tail and sprinted away into the city, tail fluffed out and ears pinned back so far they almost went back into its head. Another moment and it was gone - damn, cats were really fucking fast. Biff fell back down on his ass and laughed heartily, the sound erupting from his chest and maw.


"Cats are so dumb," he said to himself as he leaned against his truck and raised himself up on his hind-legs, scratching his back against the vehicle's surface like a bear. He wiggled against it, pleased at the way the rusted metal and paint itched the hard-to-reach-spots, and fell back down onto the concrete again, sniffing. Spud was out somewhere and the bar had maybe one, two patrons in it before, but now it was empty. Just him and his truck. Now he was bored.


biff's in secui Shy | 256

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Most of Biff's threads will be labeled [Mature] due to his pottymouth and rough nature!
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#2
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The mottled cat raced past Myrkr’s napping place with a skittering of claws and made the skinny wolf jolt awake, bringing his head off his paws. He yawned, and upon sucking in a lungful of frigid air shuddered and got to his feet, wobbling out onto the cold street. The lid of the overturned dumpster fell shut behind him as he squeezed out of it, a quiet clatter that echoed so artificially in the city, unmuffled by bark and moss.

The city seemed so foreign to him sometimes, even though it had been at the edge of his birthplace and had more recently become his “home.” He wasn’t sure why — was it because he felt so nostalgic for Jordheim and Vinátta’s woodlands? Or because “wolfsies” weren’t tough enough for the streets, as Biff would say?

He took in a deep breath, inhaling rust and must and the stench of a frightened cat, then exhaled in a low sigh. Biff.

It wasn’t hard to find the guy. All Myrkr had to do was wander aimlessly for a bit and he turned up somehow — as if his dominating, grating presence was magnetic, or perhaps because he tended to just be unapologetically out in the open, usually barking our laughing raucously. True to form, Myrkr found him by following the cat’s acrid scent trail, and stopped a few yards away from the truck.

The dusky wolf lifted his chin. “Can’t you find better things to do than scare poor cats?” he complained.
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Biff grinned as a wimpy scent crossed his nose - aw yeah, no-tail! Now he wouldn't be bored anymore. The little wolf wandered into view, and Biff gave him one of his trademarked grins. Myrkr did nothing but lift his chin and ask a dumb question.


"Nah," he said, lifting a leg to scratch behind his ear. A beetle was dislodged and landed on the concrete, scuttling speedily away underneath his truck. "What about you, no-tail? Cat-lover no-tail?" He chuckled at his non-joke, scratching himself again against the rusted paint of his truck.


"HEY!" he boomed abruptly, springing to his feet. He shook the concrete dust away from his fur, scattering it all over the ground (and most likely on Myrkr as well). "That reminds me, I got a lame gift the other day. But maybe you'd like it." He stood on two legs and leaned against the truck's front door, shifting as he did so. As he smoothly shifted into Secui form first, his added height allowed him to nose through the broken window of the car door, shifting various items around with clatters and crashes and dings.


After a couple of minutes, he shifted fully into his Optime form, and stood properly. He reached into the truck and opened the door, allowing various bottles and books fall on the truck floor. A couple of the books fell out of the truck, marked up by bookmarks, and he hastily shoved them back into the glovebox. He never specified what exactly he required for payment for his drinks, so he ended up with an enormous variety of items as tips and payment. Food was common and appreciated, but he also got other stuff too.


He typically let Spud take what he wanted (like lame clothes and weird decorations) and just took the rest for his truck hoard. They both liked books and reading, so they ended up splitting those. Spud liked boring non-fiction shit, and Biff took all the cool books with weird, violent stories within. He ended up with some classic literature, too.


He rooted around until he finally found what he was looking for - he grasped it and freed it from the other items, withdrawing from his truck and closing its door. He grasped it with both hands, displaying it to Myrkr; it was a light, airy skirt that let the sun gently filter through its lavender fabric. The ends were slightly frayed, but otherwise it was in relatively good condition; Spud had ignored it (not his style) and Biff hated clothes, but stuff was stuff, so he'd shoved it in his truck. He could have easily traded it away, but something compelled him to keep it - Myrkr had been in the back of his mind, though he hadn't realized it.


"Here," he said, throwing the skirt so it would drape itself over Myrkr's head. "It's got no tail hole. It's for no-tails!" He snickered and slammed his hand against the truck's side, almost trying to mitigate the fact that he'd just given Myrkr a gift.


oops biff was accidentally sort of nice | 507

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Most of Biff's threads will be labeled [Mature] due to his pottymouth and rough nature!
AVATAR BY RAZE (ilu raze)
#4
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Biff cemented his first impression with every encounter. He grinned, manifested a beetle somehow, and laughed as he needled Myrkr — who managed a lopsided smile and thinned eyes in response, crossing his arms neatly as if waiting for something of substance to be said. “I suppose not, since I’m here talking to you,” he retorted, but his hips shifted with the wag of his barely-there tail and his smile opened up more kindly.

He had been the jumpy sort when he first met Biff — but weeks of actual eating and chatting with folks at the bar had brought Myrkr back out of his shell. That wasn’t to say Biff still couldn’t get under his skin, but Myrkr liked to think he was less pathetic now. Regaining his confidence after his run-in with Sebastien was a slow process, but it was easier when he didn’t expect anything special out of his “friends.”

He didn’t expect the shout — he did jolt suddenly and slapped his palm over his chest to feel his heartbeat spike, eyes bugging out — and he tilted his head in confusion when Biff mentioned a “gift.” Suspicious, he crossed his arms tighter and scowled at him.

“Why, because I’m lame?” he muttered, and twitched his ears at the sounds spilling from Biff’s truck as the muscular dog rummaged around. He craned his neck but wasn’t able to see within, which worried him. He half expected Biff to toss a rabid raccoon at him.

Instead, he got a skirt.

Myrkr blinked at the fabric in the big clawed hands, and looked into Biff’s eyes — again, with the wariness of a beaten dog. With his next blink he smiled curiously, and he started to step closer to inspect the gift.

It hit him in the face, and Myrkr tugged it off his head as Biff chuckled. He flashed the dog a look, then stretched the fabric in his own hands to study it. It certainly wasn’t a shirt; it reminded him of one of his mother’s dresses, if the lower half. It was flimsier, and he could see the dark of his paw through the fabric. It was different.

“Thanks?” Myrkr voiced after a moment, and sheepishly looked at Biff before he started to pull the skirt on. He had no problem with nudity; he understood the role of modesty but understood that it was an invented thing, too. But somehow getting dressed in front of Biff felt… weird.

He clumsily pulled the thing up his hips until they reached a comfortable point, then smoothed the fabric down. The color was so light on him, he probably looked ridiculous. Flippantly, he twisted his hips to set the material moving, then grinned at Biff.

“How awful is it?”

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Myrkr gave a little quip and Biff chuckled lightly; as he took out the skirt and threw it at him, the smaller wolf kept giving him glances of uncertainty, of what could be interpreted as 'fear' but was more likely anxiety, or apprehension. Biff resisted the urge to scoff.


Come on, like he'd really hurt him after offering him food and a place to stay... except he wasn't even sure himself that he wouldn't on any given day, and knowing him, he probably wouldn't feel bad about it. So instead, he decided to feel triumphant about Myrkr's apprehensive face, the cautious way he handled Biff like a stick of dynamite ready to blow. That's right. Respect.


Myrkr seemed hesitant about the gift, as though he didn't know what he thought of it. He inspected its folds, its fabrics, before offering Biff a weak 'thanks' (more in the form of a question than a statement). Then he began to put it on. Biff wasn't really sure how clothes were supposed to look -
he'd always found them dumb and restrictive, and he didn't understand the 'style' thing that Brandy was always yammering on about. Clothes usually looked like someone painted some dumb shit on a perfectly normal person.


But the flowy light quality of the skirt matched the flowy light quality of Myrkr - two things that were delicate and small and weak, at least in Biff's vision. Two things that were easy to rip apart and destroy, and yet still stood before him, preserved despite the world. Despite Biff. Somehow, they fit. For the first time, Biff almost 'got it'.


The contrasting colors - Myrkr's dark fur against the light of the lavender - were somehow pleasing, too. Myrkr twisted a bit, allowing the skirt to flow around his legs and sit against his hips, and hesitantly asked Biff how awful it was. Biff had been so wrapped up in his own impressions that he forgot that the other had his own. He felt genuine... surprise, that Myrkr would think he'd look anything less than pretty in it.


"Not," he said. "Not awful."


Almost unthinking, he began to slowly walk towards Myrkr, reaching out hesitantly to grasp the soft fabric in his hands. He smoothed it out against Myrkr's legs and rested his hands against the other's hips, lightly swiping his thumb over the divide between the skirt and Myrkr's fur. It was all uncharacteristically gentle, a trait that was almost long-forgotten for Biff. Wait, what? He stepped back from Myrkr, suddenly becoming cognizant of what he was doing.


"For - for a no-tail," he said lamely. God damnit.


i-it's not like i like you or anything baka| 434

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Most of Biff's threads will be labeled [Mature] due to his pottymouth and rough nature!
AVATAR BY RAZE (ilu raze)
#6
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Myrkr smiled like he was in on some joke, but the joke was Myrkr. He coped with that self-deprecating flavor of presupposition; if he laughed at himself first, it didn’t sting so much if others laughed at him too.

“Look at me,” his grin said as he shimmied the skirt, “look how ridiculous I am!”

But Biff walked toward him, and slowly he stilled. His heart drummed in his ears as Biff reached out to him, gently smoothing the fabric down, placing his hands on the wolf’s narrow hips. Myrkr tilted his head, curious, uncertain. He didn’t mind the touch—the attention felt nice—but he certainly hadn’t expected it from Biff. His hands, awkwardly frozen in a raised position, fingers naturally curled, started to descend toward the dog’s muscular arms, but by that point Biff stepped back and amended his compliment.

Was that a stammer in his voice? Myrkr started to smile, wondering.

“Thanks,” he said. He twirled the skirt again, playfully, and added, “Thanks for the gift, too. It was really sweet of you.” His eyes glimmered mischievously.

Then he sighed and leaned against the truck (Biff’s precious truck), crossing his arms, glancing out at the buildings around them. He ruminated on things for a bit, some thoughts a little more embarrassing and strange than others, his mind racing as was its tendency. He subconsciously nudged his elbow away from a rusted, sharp corner of the truck bed and glanced at the sky.

“So,” Myrkr said after a minute. “I was thinking, well, I’ve been hanging around anyway and I might make that a permanent thing. Gods know I have nowhere else to go, y’know?” He shifted his eyes to Biff. “I just wanted to see if that was… okay with you. You guys.”
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Biff could count the amount of times he's blushed on one hand, one paw, and unfortunately, this added another instance to the tally. Ignoring Myrkr's hands reaching for his arm, ignoring what might have happened if he'd stayed, he simply watched as Myrkr gave a curious smile. Ugh, this was the fucking worst, he wasn't supposed to be on the wrong end of this shit. Flip the table back over. He wanted to deliver a biting remark,
almost did, but Myrkr interrupted his train of thought with thanks.


Sweet. Oh, God damnit, no, he didn't want to be known as sweet. Mostly because he wasn't sweet, and anyone who had ever met him - had ever spent even a modicum of a second with him - would attest to that. He was rough, he was crude, he was violent, he was bad, and he was fine with that. Being described as 'sweet', even if it was just an act of his that was deemed so, caused dissonance in his mind. There was just something weird, something off about it.


But maybe there was something nice about it, too.


Wait, no, no there wasn't. He folded his arms in front of him as Myrkr leaned against the truck (damnit, man, you're gonna scratch the paint, never-mind the fact that the paint was already scratched to near non-existence anyway). A silence fell over them - the wolf didn't look at Biff, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Biff just stared, eyes still wandering to the skirt and Myrkr's legs, and then back to his face again. Finally, the silence was broken with a hesitant suggestion. Or was it more of a question? Biff's face cracked into an easy grin once again.


"Well, well!" he exclaimed, mischievous eyes trained on Myrkr. "Couldn't stay away, huh! Got addicted to the Blackrust life! Not that I blame you. We're the god damn best." He winked.


"Yeah, fuckin', yeah, you can stay. Wanna live in my truck with me? HAHA!"


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Most of Biff's threads will be labeled [Mature] due to his pottymouth and rough nature!
AVATAR BY RAZE (ilu raze)
#8
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As the moments passed on a dead street, Myrkr thought over what he would say -- and what Biff might say in response.

He knew he was a different sort than the others who "ran" the bar, Biff and Spud and some of Biff's cousins that came around now. Hell, he didn't drink, and that felt like a prerequisite. But he'd picked up some "odd jobs" here and there, generally doing what he could to make the bar a welcoming place, whether it was bringing food to the bartenders so they wouldn't have to leave their posts, or just greeting those who walked in.

It almost felt like he was part of something.

It was a feeling that Myrkr had chased for a long time. He'd had chances at it, in Vinátta and Freetown, Cour des Miracles and Krokar, but each time those he loved left him behind, or he didn't feel worthy of that love. Shiloh choosing Silvano over the pack, over them; Sebastien casting him out into a frightening world because his fears were too much, and showing up on his doorstep seasons later; Myrkr looking at his family's faces and knowing that somehow he wasn't enough.

He promised he'd get better. He'd go out and get better, and --

The bar seemed a safer gamble than a pack, and if Biff and Spud turned on him, if his no-tail fears and antics bred resentment over amusement, well, it wouldn't hurt as much this time because he expected it.

He looked again at Biff, and hated the relief when he saw that easy smile.

"Oh, yes, the best," Myrkr agreed with gentle sarcasm, but he winked back and left it at that, until Biff invited him to stay in the truck. At this, his brow furrowed and he looked dubiously at the vehicle. Surely he was joking -- yeah, it sounded like a joke.

He shrugged and said, "I mean, if you want, but be forewarned that I have terrible night terrors." He smiled and turned puppy-dog eyes on the man. "Wake up screaming and scratching at least three times a night. But that's okay with you, right?"[html]
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#9
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"Night terrors!" he exclaimed with a grin. "What could be more terrifying than being a no-tail in real life?" He knew he was just being mean now, but he didn't really care - after all, he didn't give a shit when people teased or ragged on him. Why should it matter to No-tail? He knew Biff was just shitting on him for a laugh. To prove it, the dog sidled over to the wolf and gently nudged him in the ribs with an elbow, a cheeky smile adorning his face.


God, what a weird fucking guy. Biff didn't really get what "trust issues" were. He didn't care about 'trust' because no one could hurt him, no one could touch him, even if they did 'betray' him. He'd just bounce back. That was how he was. Nothing fucking mattered to him, not really, and so when people got dodgy about trust and hurting others and things like that, he didn't get it. There was a lot about people that he didn't fucking get. But did he really need to 'get it'? Eh. Nah.


He easily slung his arm over the other's shoulder, looking down at him with a grin. It was still toothy, still a little weird and wider than it should be, but it held a sort of fondness in it, and in his eyes.


"Let's get a drink," he said, trying to lead the other towards the back door of the bar, the smell of booze in his mind. Oh, wait, this kid didn't drink. It had taken Biff a while to get used to his weird eating and drinking habits - no wonder he was so fucking skinny, he didn't eat shit and he was a shit hunter, too - but whatever. More for him and the rest of his boys. "You can drink fuckin' milk or something, I dunno."


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Most of Biff's threads will be labeled [Mature] due to his pottymouth and rough nature!
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