Better heads need shut eye (luke)

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Better heads need shut eye (luke) Jun 3, 2012 18:41:07 GMT -5

Post by kneedles on Jun 3, 2012 18:41:07 GMT -5

They were young, they were reckless and they were wild. Clutching bottles of home brewed vodka that tasted starchy and too much like the rotten potatoes fermenting in bottles that had made them, they tore their way through town in celebration. The reapings were over, the games had begun and none of them had gone in, all of them had been spared for yet another year. None of them had been bashed apart in the bloodbath even if the blood count was sort of low this year. This is what it felt like to be lucky bastards, this was what it felt like to be alive. You were alive as you snuck into a field to tip a cow, as you made love with two people who weren’t your boyfriend or your girlfriend or even your preferred gender in someone else’s barn, alive as you chugged down that strange tacky tasting drink and chewed into mushrooms found in the woods that your friends insisted made you feel pretty trippy.

Tallow Tansy didn’t feel all that alive right now though. Hunched over into a bush, feeling her soul escaping from her in warm hot chunks she felt pretty much on the edge of death herself. Why? Why? Why did she insist on trying to keep up with those of her friends who were tall and male and had a good sixty to eighty pounds on a fifteen year old girl who could easily slip away on a gust of wind? It never ended well, she knew it never ended well and Tallow knew she was smarter than that. But knowing better and doing better are always two very different things entirely.

For example, she knew better than to run around with boys and booze in low cut shirt hanging limply over her shoulders, tiny shorts that she’s cut off at the cuff to make even tinier so that more than nothing is left to the imagination, the entire length of two stick legs, unfortunately somewhat bow legged with a gap inside of them large enough to fit a small horse easily between her thighs, poking out from underneath. She knew better than to drink so much that it’s questionable whether she can take care of herself anymore at a time when she should be at her most vigilant and she knew better to abandon her friends for a damn forty two year old ranch foreman from updistrict coming down with a herd who’d stopped at a tavern to drink. A damn pussy forty two year old ranch foreman who’d flirted with her like a champ only to turn around and cry about loving his wife and his daughter ‘sh-sh-she’s about your age, you know’ (how romantic and sexy )with his trousers half around his ankles leaving Tallow alone and not exactly sure of her bearings in the slightest. She knew better and yet she still did it all.

And there she was; alone and not exactly sure of her bearings in the slightest until the urge to spew gripped her and, realizing that she wouldn’t be able to concentrate properly unless she was sick, Tallow jammed to fingers inside of her throat to encourage things along. Tactically like, until there were chunks of bread and other fun stuff on her index and middle fingers on her left hand. Moaning weakly though she did have to admit that she felt a little better, crouching to wipe her hand on the grass and frantically making sure she hadn’t gotten any on her hair. Thankfully she hadn’t and, though a little mussed from making out, it was as thick and glossy as ever, more like the mane and tail on a thoroughbred colt than anything else.

Eff the people she’d gone out with, Tallow thought, emerging from the bushes and finding only the lingering smell of alcohol, body odor and teenage angst as well as a few dozen cigarette butts littering the ground to suggest that they had even been there at all. Yes, she was always memorable when one of them wanted to screw her but the minute she was off with someone else it was as though she stopped existing altogether. Eff that and eff them, seriously. Tallow Tansy was adequate as fuck and she knew how to look after herself and find her own way home. Who gave a crap if they didn’t think she existed? Tallow knew that she did and that she was better than pretty much all of them put together.

After hauling herself off the floor and walking around the outside of the bushes, it was a while she realized just how dirty her knees were, giggling at how easily a passer-by could get the wrong impression from all of that mud and all those grass stains on her skinny, knobbly bones. And she giggled at how close she’d been to making the wrong impression, in actual fact, the right one if it weren’t for that whiny bitch of a ranch foreman moping about his wife and his daughter. Poor guy had no idea what he was missing. Eff him too.

She was, predictably, staggering as she walked like a shaky limbed foal learning to walk for the first time, her arms out reached to keep balance, to work out in a way where she was going through all of this double vision dancing in front of her eyes. And it was so long left til the Tansy house, so long until she reached that shithole of a tin can shack. Half of her was tempted simply to try and crash somewhere in town, on a bench, in a storm ditch, anywhere that wasn’t such a walk.

And when she tripped messily over her feet onto a gravel path, bashing up her knees and bloodying them in a way that she wouldn’t feel tomorrow Tallow thought that this seemed like a good a place as any so she curled up in on herself like a cat folding into a comfortable chair (adorable, really) snuck a thumb into her mouth and started to doze lightly (her snoring and the dribble still a little lined with chunks of her dinner spilling onto her chin not being so adorable)

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Last Edit: Jun 5, 2012 17:35:29 GMT -5 by kneedles

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Better heads need shut eye (luke) Jun 10, 2012 23:25:08 GMT -5

Post by cyrus on Jun 10, 2012 23:25:08 GMT -5

So what could I say about the evening of the reaping? Well, my friends and I had been watching the curiosity from a safe distance. I swear that Dinghy, you know the one with the lazy eye? He’s a year younger than me, so it was his last year for the reapings. Well, he had this look on his face like he was about to shit his pants. Like literally, shit in pants diarrhea. I swear if they’d called his name he was going to keel over and they’d have had to have carried him up on the stage. And Melrose was looking like a little tart for the reaping—fearless as always, tits out, ready to face death like she was about to have sex with it—too bad that she didn’t get picked. Would be a more interesting games with her spreading her legs all over the place.

I was standing towards the back since I’m too old for that s—t anymore. Don’t get me wrong now, I don’t get my fill of watching the capitol line everyone up like we’re little puppets that they can just throw away. But there is something fascinating about the fact that we go through this, year in and year out, absolutely normally. I used to be pretty afraid of it myself but, then I realized that I was going to die if I got picked, so being afraid wasn’t going to made much of a goddamn difference anyway. But now… well, I’ve got everything that I could possibly need. A good house, a job, and more money than most people in district ten. I never go too into the morbid details anyway, so the reaping is the one time of year that I feel a little bit of that ol’ time haunting… but then it clears right back up.

After Elon and Noreen were picked—two people I didn’t know really—I was all set on going out and getting rock-my-face-off obliterated. The two of them deserved a good send off by us district tens, since… well, they were going to die. District ten had gotten lucky with a victor a while back but it was clear that these two were headed to early deaths. The Elon boy looked too soft for the games—I heard whispers that he was a little limp wristed—and Noreen was big as a house with kids. So it would be another embarrassing year for us, which was fine, but it meant that I wanted to at least enjoy another moment in which my friends hadn’t had to go off to die. I’m usually pretty good at such things, at any rate.

We played a few drinking games at Mullaly’s bar to start. I like that place best of all because it’s not too dark, but dark enough not to notice the ugly lying around. There are a few round tables, a short bar, and a few velvet paintings along the wall to give it a lovely dive feel. They also don’t mind us younger folk coming in, as long as we don’t get too rowdy. Piss off, as usual, was the highlight of the night. Never heard of it? Really? You sit in a circle, you see, and the round starter points to two people in the circle, and then they have to point at someone else, and then we keep going until two people point at each other, in which case the first one to say “piss off” doesn’t have to drink. Or, the unlucky one that has both people point at them has to drink. At any rate, we got rather drunk, and rather quickly, and everyone very much enjoyed us yelling “piss off” at the top of our lungs, so we weren’t long for Mullaly’s.

I tried to get some of them to stay out a bit later after we scattered out into the night air, but it seemed as though everyone was just ready to get home and sleep in their beds. For me that’s not much excitement: I don’t live with anyone anymore since I took over the ranch, so unless I’m taking someone home with me, I’m going home to an empty and cold bed. Melrose wasn’t even buying what I was selling, and usually a d—k was halfway down her throat by midnight. But don’t start looking at me like I’m trying to get some pity from you. Soon enough that’ll change, so I might as well enjoy my freedom while I’ve got it. And so it went that I began to make my long, swaggering walk back to my abode.

The way the shadows crept up from the ground toward the street lamps was dizzying for me. My boots clacked against the gravel, and I hummed a little ditty to myself. There wasn’t a soul out now, the parties having finally died down and yet I am still a ball of energy, bouncing from foot to foot. My swagger must have looked unusually swaggerish from anyone that could see, and I all but tumbled over upon spying someone atop a worn down chair in front of my house. And to my luck, it wasn’t one of those usual toothless drunks that liked to drop their pants and wiggle around before collapsing in a heap in front of me. No, this one was far sexier than I could’ve imagined. And better yet, ~~she wasn’t even awake enough to realize that I was there~~ she had decided to plant herself down on my porch.

“W-well nawh, [hic], who d-do I owe this play-shur…” I say, stumbling to hold onto the edge of the chair. Of course, in my ~~numerous~~ few experiences with girls that had ~~drunken their faces off~~ had a little too much, I knew just how to handle them. I bent down to run my hands down her arms and brought my face against her ear. In gentlemanly fashion ~~I smelled her hair~~ I gave her a little shake and ~~moved my hands down her shirt~~ tapped her gently on the cheek. “He-he-hey… you ‘wake beautiful…?”

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Last Edit: Jun 10, 2012 23:26:29 GMT -5 by cyrus

kneedles

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Better heads need shut eye (luke) Jun 11, 2012 10:30:41 GMT -5

Post by kneedles on Jun 11, 2012 10:30:41 GMT -5

Tallow was roused from her stupor by warm hands and warmer breath that smelled more than a little of spirits. One bleary eyed open, sleepily suspicious, eyebrow furrowed; she’d been more than a little comfortable here, content to sleep off whatever paint thinner and lighter fluid concoction seemed to be running through her system but as soon as she could make out the blurry figure in front of her, as soon as the features swirled into something a little more like a human than just a shadow of flesh and hair she shifted in her seat, slowly curled a hand around the back of this person’s head. His hair needed a wash, a decent conditioner- if such a thing existed in Ten- but it felt soft enough, not too many split ends and it was thick- not at all receding like some of the poor bastards she knew. That was a good enough assessment of character for Tallow so she opened her eyes, slowly withdrew her hand so that it skated along the nape of his neck and her lips curled into a smile.

“Mmm,” she said, nodding her head.Her tongue still tasted like vomit, but she swallowed heavily, slumping into the chair, one leg raised to her chest, the other on the floor- parted wide enough to straddle a threshing machine. It wasn’t the kind of thing anyone could teach a girl- wasn’t the kind of thing that anyone could ask about but for Tallow it seemed to come as natural as breathing, even if the way she bit down on her lip and let out a little girl giggle was just about the most affected thing in the world. "I think I'm very lost." He called her beautiful but upon not all that close inspection he was drunk enough to call a garden post with tits the sexiest thing alive but that was okay, because Tallow was off her face too and she didn’t want to go home tonight. Well, tonight…and forever… but however long she wanted this man for before he got boring and ran out of toast was enough of a start for now. And, bless him, he probably thought he was the one taking advantage of Tallow.

“Have you come to rescue me?” she slurred lazily- as if she needed rescuing. Even off her tits Tallow Tansy was adequate as fuck, she could keep reminding herself over and over again despite the situation not really suggesting anything of the sort. Behind his head she could make out a path and fields and had to wonder just far out she’d come and why she couldn’t remember being this close to a house, even though she was right by a porch.“My hero.”

Twining a hand around her hair, a little clumsier than she would have done normally, Tallow cast about the place. From what she could see in the dark, it was a decent sized sort of place- better than the tin can that she had to call home at any road- even if it did stink of shit like pretty much everything in this whole damn place so his family probably had a little bit of money. Drawing back, she blew out a frustrated sigh. “I’d suck a dick for a cigarette right about now,”Tallow announced to the night air.

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Last Edit: Jun 11, 2012 11:00:44 GMT -5 by kneedles

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Better heads need shut eye (luke) Jun 12, 2012 22:19:56 GMT -5

Post by cyrus on Jun 12, 2012 22:19:56 GMT -5

Oh how she moved so sweetly from her spot on the chair to face me. I was almost startled that I had awaken her ~~missing the opportunity~~ because she was so beautiful sleeping all on her own. But now she was awake, drunk as all get out, and yet totally into having fun. When the words dribbled out of her lips, I could help but give her a laugh. This girl is ripped, and she must have a wild streak a mile wide. After all, she wouldn’t have just offered—stepping way over the lines that I was used to out of these demure little flowers of district 10 ~~Melrose excluded, of course~~—to play with my trick pony for a trade of cigarettes. Then again, our female tribute was an unwed teenage mother (at least, at this point) so I suppose our fairer sex couldn’t be considered so demure.

“Sorry my little lady,” I swagger around her with arms helping her to balance. Despite the remnants of a night out, she wasn’t half bad to look at. Better than anything I had seen in town, and that was saying something. I felt as though I’d seen her around before—maybe she was a friend of a friend—but it doesn’t really matter. None of it really matters, she’s alive, and hasn’t been shipped off to die. Yeah, she’s a winner, we’re all winners tonight, and I was about to win just a little bit more. I let out a little bit of a laugh as I turn away for a moment. “You see, I never pay for something like that.”

I stick a cigarette into my mouth and grin. I strike a match and take a few puffs. “But I’ll give you a gift, since I’m such a n-nice [hic] guy. Consider it a well-wishing from someone who knows what you’ve been through,” I say, alluding to the reaping. Of course, who knows if she cared at all? Half these kids these days—and being that I am all of eight months past reaping age, I have no ground to stand upon—seem so unafraid of their deaths. But I still smile as I move in closer to her. “Elias Poers. Horse breeder. Ranch owner. Best stock in these parts, best breeder too. W-what’s yer name, sweetness?”

I grin as I move to hand her the lit cigarette. “How’s that?” It’s a funny thing. After facing certain death, there’s such elation, and I am all but filled to the brim with it. Seeing my friends, and this little one, able to live another day gives me hope. Or in a weird way, a sense that the world’s not half as f—ked as the capitol would have us believe. After all, only twenty-three people would die over the next couple of weeks. We could probably lose more than that in a fire, or in some kind of stampede if we weren’t too careful. Now of course, it was time to settle in, and perhaps get this lady inside for a cup of water to settle her down and make things smooth.

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Better heads need shut eye (luke) Jun 13, 2012 11:57:02 GMT -5

Post by kneedles on Jun 13, 2012 11:57:02 GMT -5

Tallow took the cigarette and stood close to Elias, swaying like the pendulum on a grandfather clock but still somehow managing to retain a supercilious air as she sucked in her cigarette deeply, pursed her lips into a saccharine, obscene little ‘o’ shape and blew out smoke just for Elias to see. It was a shame that he never paid since Tallow preferred not to give it all away for free. And he could afford it too, owning his own ranch and acting like that was the best damn thing on the planet. For the girls of the district who smelled like hay and manure it probably was and bagging a ranch owner probably was high up on their list, but Tallow was different. A changeling child from the capitol still dreaming of synthetic hair and fine silks.

But she smiled anyway, didn’t raise an eyebrow when he claimed to know what she’d been through. He meant the reapings of course, not that he’d know the rest with his fancy house and his horses being the ‘best breeder in the district’ but even then she doubted he knew what was waiting for her at home now that fucking Noreen Lyvvers had to go and get herself reaped like that. But fuck it, Tallow was fifteen and she was young and reckless and alive- tonight was not a night for worrying about brothers who couldn’t cope and the safety of someone she didn’t even know or like particularly.

“Thanks ‘Elias Poers Best Breeder In These Parts’ ” she teased, pressed her breasts close to his chest and bit down on her lip against a smile. Switching her cigarette from the left hand, which she favoured, to her right she freed up her good hand to trail downwards to the front of this man’s pants, firm against his thigh until she found his little friend through his trousers. Tallow giggled innocently.

“’s good. It’s just what I needed,” she said somewhat sloppily, alternating light strokes with a few firmer ones in one hand, dragging on her cigarette with the other. He was quite handsome in the dark. But then again who wasn’t? The boy was more of a young man really, Scutcher’s age or older with a lady killer smile and oh my didn’t he just know it. Well at least he wasn’t about to start crying on her the minute he got his dick out. So ten points for the random horse guy over the random other guy. “My name’s Tallow….not sweetness,” she grinned. “Never sweet.” No surname, though, not tonight- she was just Tallow, the fleeting glimpse of a person without past or future or ties. That was the nice thing about one night stands though wasn’t it? For one night she’d only be whoever the fuck Elias Poers best horse breeder in the district thought she was, and she could leave him to fill in the blanks later without a second glance.

She withdrew her hand almost as quickly as it had found his pecker and stepped away a little, all business. She threw the cigarette into the earth and callously ground it underfoot. “So Elias Poers, where are you going to screw me, then? Out here works,” another slow stretching smile as she demurely tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Out here…in my mouth…or wherever else you want it.” She started to walk backwards, intending it to be sexy, her arms crossed around her shirt ready to take it off but the effect was lessened slightly when she fell down on her drunken ass and into the dirt.

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Better heads need shut eye (luke) Jun 21, 2012 22:27:29 GMT -5

Post by cyrus on Jun 21, 2012 22:27:29 GMT -5

”You’re quite the dirty bird…” I replied after she offered pretty much the whole front and back end, as we like to say in this district, for nothing. It wasn’t much of a surprise for me. After all, most women of the district found me irresistible, even in an inebriated state, and this young lady was just another addition. Of course, though cocking my head to the side meant that I was seeing two of her, but then this wasn’t a bad vision at all. She could use some work in the mouth department, though. I liked a filthy girl but this one was more than just foul mouthed. I let out a chuckle as I turned to open my front door.

“You know I [hic] might just have the p-place. Y-you wanna come [hic] come inside and I’ll show you… it’s ruhlr nice. Lots of space. D-don’t be [hic] scared…” I say as I turn on a light. It’s a humble living room, or at least it would’ve been if people in this district weren’t so piss poor. The fine wood coffee table, knitted throw and comfortable looking couch spoke volumes as to what ~~my parents~~ I could afford. It would just be the first glance as to what I could offer this little dirty bird. Not that she seemed impressed by anything I had to offer. But lord if that didn’t make me want to work her harder and longer than before. She was doing quite a number on me, even though my head was swimming and not much was making sense. I stumbled forward and tugged at my belt.

She would have to follow after all. I was going to lead her on a seduction journey she’d never quite experienced. We’d climb to the peak of mount Elias and I’d have her hollerin’ all the way to the top. And then afterward I might get a chance to rest my head, sober up a bit, and go on for round two. And if she was any good, in the morning she’d fry up some bacon and eggs for us and we’d go one more time. That was the idea that flashed through my head as I finally ripped the leather belt from my pant loops. After liberating it I stared back at Tallow with a goofy grin.

“Now… why don’t you come inside… that way I can plop myself in ya and see if I can’t hit your sugarwalls?” I said this all matter-of-factly, as though there was nothing odd about the statement. It was how my friends all talked, being ranchers, and I was much the same breed as them. Even when I wanted to separate myself and pretend to be educated, the alcohol had knocked me down a peg. I dug in my ear a bit before flicking it off my finger and looking again to Tallow. She sure had a purty mouth, I tell you what.

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