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The Greatest Poopsies


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Everything felt different within the halls of Wahnsinn. When Bishop arrived he was nothing more than a face in the crowd, just how he liked it. At least he thought that was the case. As of late events have suggested otherwise.

A cold gaze glanced about the dreary scenery of his surroundings searching out one person in specific. In his hand was a gallon sized plastic bag filled with finely cut slabs of meat drenched in blood. Right now he needed a distraction and who better to assist than his favorite emu farmer?

An odd kinship had formed between Bishop and Odette. Never once had he showed any interest in getting to know the woman or what she had to offer yet she continued to follow him; notice him. It was an odd feeling having someone genuinely want to stick around so, naturally, he had kept her at arms distance.

And yet she persisted.

Persistence was a quality most lacked in the current day and age. If something didn't go their way people would go for the next best thing or give up altogether. Odette was not the type, it seemed. In the short time they had known eachother the arm's length had shortened. Surely he'd regret it but that was an issue that would require future analysis. Always the strategist Bishop rarely took risks without first assessing his probability of success. With Odette the risk was worth it.

But Jameson. Why Jameson?

The male's wandering thoughts were brought back to present at the sight of familiar brown locks. Black Louboutin's clicked against the cement until he came just a few paces from the woman.

"Order up."

With a shake of the bag, the Frenchman's ice cold gaze watched the woman's movements. Odette hardly frightened him, however he respected her capabilities. Not everyone can take down a man-bull with such little effort.

"Bit off more than I could chew," he sighed, "I thought maybe you would like the leftovers? Otherwise, they go to the dogs."

A glimmer on his finger caught his eye. In reserved panic he tossed the bag towards the woman, hoping to shove his hand deep into his jean's pocket both quickly yet with nonchalance. He wasn't ready to be interrogated.

Hell, he was still interrogating himself.

"You said you wanted to make burgers or something with it, yes?"
July 29, 2019 07:41 pm


She'd always been the outgoing type, and often to a fault. Odette had come around with absolutely no purpose in life. An orphaned child, she'd been passed from home to home for her peculiar tendencies. Eventually, that led to a juvenile correction facility. Then, a mental institution.

She learned quick enough.

Keep the antics quiet. Don't feed the strongest tendencies. Don't let them see. Odette became educated enough to manipulate the system, and eventually, was granted her freedom.

That freedom landed her here.

Enter, Bishop.

Cold. Unfriendly, to an extreme. Disinterested. Completely and utterly necessary.

She'd considered eating him, at first. Handsome, she would put money on just how tender his muscles are. She'd worked hard at crawling under his skin, all the while researching exotic recipes just for him. Alas, as she poured over every opportunity, he ended up crawling under hers.

And thus, Cheryl was born.

Order up.

Her neck cracks as her head turns sharply, wide eyes settling upon her friend. What an odd word, especially for one that had been the subject of consumption fantasies. It takes a moment to focus, and force her mind away from them. It distracts her, until she finds herself struck and fumbling to get a grasp on a bag. "What the fu-"

She can already tell what the insides are, just by the weight, scent, and feel of it's contents. "Oh.. Bishop, that is so sweet."

A look of complete adoration is passed his way before she peeks into the bag, conspicuously inhaling it's innards. "This is going to make an amazing roast. You are so thoughtful."

Lifting her head, she would miss the shine of a ring. Instead she would fix him with the most appreciative stare ever.

Maybe one day, he'd let her just have a nibble.
July 30, 2019 08:56 pm


"I have an all liquid diet so, it is as they say, waste not want not."

Bishop's initial intention of involving himself with his partner in crime was the same as all others: manipulation for later use. Most interactions were used as a way to gauge ones usefulness to the man's future endeavors.

Odette was unique. Her artistry with a knife against flesh was a skill even he could not deny. A taste for flesh, she would prove to be a possibly liability but he continued to watch her; study her.

Unfortunately, he had become too close to this ravenous man eater. The moment he had stopped seeing her as a tool and as an ally was the day their love child Cheryl was created.

For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime Bishop had fun. To watch a man larger than both he and his companion run in shear fear drenched in his own blood ignited an old flame in the cold stone of the Frenchman's heart. The sheer bliss in Odette's maniacal giggles as she stalked her 'date' in a sick game of hide and seek was enough to make him smile.


How utterly vile. Yet, comforting. Still there was a hungry animal beneath her beauty he imagined still craved a taste of him. Alas, if things continued, he'd be inclined to give her taste; but just a nibble.

A pointed glance was cast in the woman's direction. Much like Jameson, she had begun to pick up just how to tease at him. Thoughtful, sweet, similar words brought bile to his mouth. How he despised being portrayed as a caring individual, let alone a selfless one.

"It was either you or the dogs. I was on my way to them; I simply ran into you first."

Only recently had Bishop finally moved his precious pitbulls onto the grounds of the coven. As per usual, he didn't ask permission. He did as he pleased. In an effort to keep away from other members of the coven he had placed the further into the halls away from other's living quarters, closer to the back exit.

After managing to slide the finger off his ring while inside the pocket he brought his arms up and crossed them over his chest. One less reminder of his poor judgement. Though out of sight, it was hardly out of mind; as was the one who supplied the miniature ball and chain.

If anybody could help Bishop feel more like himself it was his favorite carnivore.
August 01, 2019 08:00 pm


"You know, you could have just lied", Odette casts him a soft glare as she adjusts to cradle the bag in her arms. She could go on, nagging and working him down until he is literally pulling the gift from her arms and walking away. To think of the reactions she might garner, if she only pushed a little.

God forbid you act like you care.
It's okay to care, you know.
Love you too, Bishop.
You're my best friend.

Lord, he would either puke, run, or scream in agony. The man before her is about as warm as an iceberg, and she absolutely adores him.

Squinting, she leans forward. "...Or are you just modest?"

A pause.

"Maybe shy?"

Fighting back a wide grin, Odette lets her sights flicker over him as she leans, jutting out her bottom lip comically as her brows rise in her best impression of pathetic puppy dog eyes.

F-ck me, I just want a taste.

But something is off. Bishop has never been so standoffish with her. Not really, at least. He might play at it, but this isn't normal for him. Not after Cheryl. Ugh, what a great night. If it were a date, it would have easily been top five.

"Why are you crossing your arms? Are you uncomfortable?"
August 08, 2019 05:13 pm


"You know I make it a point not to lie."

In all his life lying had never been a factor he would rely on in getting what he desired. Withholding certain information or simply opting not to speak on a matter was more his preferred route. Lying was a slippery slope that led to the line between truth and fiction blurring. Having been a victim of mind games his whole life, attempting such acts left a bad taste in his mouth.

Rolling his eyes he let out a scoff.

"Shy? Me? Preposterous."

The very thought was laughable. Shyness was not in his repertoire of emotions. Never had he been scared to of saying exactly what was on his mind when it was on his mind. Sometimes, he was just strategically withholding. That was all.

At least, that's what he told himself.

An icy glance was directed at the woman attempting to guilt him with her take on the puppy dog eyes. It was like a shark. A pretty shark. A shark nonetheless.

Wither her questions he gazed at his stature. As he always did when attempting to close himself off he had his arms tightly across his chest. Quickly dropping them returned his hands to his pockets.

"Don't make me take the bodybuilder back. The dogs are very hungry."

Reaching a hand out from his pocket he gave an expecting look. Of course, he knew she would not willingly hand over perfectly good meat. He just enjoyed teasing her as much as she did him.
August 11, 2019 08:45 pm
Actives (27) Fresh Blood (1) View All The Fallen (5) Graveyard
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