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@abbyayles Look who it is!

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She could hear Talbotâs voice in the living room room, too quiet for actual words to filter through. Just a low rumble of sound and then his barking laugh. She knew without seeing him that her fatherâs head was thrown back, one palm slapped against his good thigh for emphasis. She grinned to herself and cocked head to one side as she started kicking off her boots, trying to guess who Talbot might be talking to.
âDid your girl finally drag âerself home?â
Ayles let out a shrill, delighted squeal at the familiar voice and didnât bother with the remaining boot, flinging herself towards the sound. Charlie met her in the doorway and wrapped his arms around her when she barreled into his chest. She squeezed the older man until he let out an exaggerated groan and then pulled back just far enough to kiss both of his cheeks soundly.
âShit,â she whistled. âAll this time I figured you mustâve crawled off into some dark alley and finally succumbed to yer advanced age.â There was nothing new about her teasing, but this time she felt a sharp little jolt of worry. The lines in his face were deeper than theyâd ever been, and the last time sheâd seen him, he had been spry enough to sweep her up into a bear hug and spin her around without her feet touching the floor. Ayles had been teasing him since she was six years old, but it occurred to the woman that for the first time, Charlie really did look old. They were all getting older. Three days ago, she had seen the first streak of gray in her hair, and Talbot seemed to slow down more and more every year. The thought left a funny, hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.
âYou still got that mouth. Everytime I see you, I think, âMaybe sheâs finally gone and grown outta that meanness, and every time, you go and break my heart.â Charlie caught her by the chin and gave her head a playful shake before letting her go again.
âGo on, sit.â She made shooing motions at both men. âIâm gonna git me a glass and then Iâll join you.â
She kicked off her remaining boot and grabbed herself a glass, then topped off everyoneâs bourbon before she flung herself down on the couch and wedged herself in between two sets of broad shoulders. Talbot draped an arm around her and Ayles closed her eyes, head against her fatherâs chest. She turned her bourbon glass around and around in her hands as she listened to the men talk. She had heard their stories a hundred times before and none of the gossip was new, but both of the men were already comfortably buzzed and Talbot was in a better mood than sheâd seen him in for weeks.
Two hours later, Charlie shoved her legs unceremoniously from his lap and hauled himself to his feet with a groan. âIf weâre playing cards tomorrow, then I am well overdue for some sleep.â
âIâll walk you home. Where you staying this time?â She glanced over her shoulder at her father, but Talbot just waved his hand at the both of them. Ayles knew without asking that it was his leg again; sheâd accidentally jostled his thigh when sheâd leaned into him to drape her legs across Charlieâs lap, and heard him inhale sharply, felt his fingers briefly tighten on her shoulder.
âWith my youngest girl.â
Ayles grimaced as she yanked her boots back on. âHowâs she doing? That was a real shame about Samuel. Bar fight, wasnât it?â
âDisagreement started in the bar, but they didnât start punchinâ each other until they got outside. He made it home that night and Lizzie dragged his ass to up to the clinic but he went and died anyway. Somethinâ about bleedinâ in the brain, she said.â
He held the door open for her and waved at Talbot before they stepped outside. âI think sheâs holdinâ up. Wasnât like Samuel was bringinâ in any money, so it wasnât a loss there.â
âStill. Tell her if she needs anything, sheâs moreân welcome to come to me.â
They walked together arm in arm, both of them quiet for several minutes. The night air was heavy and hot, and the wind blowing up from the canals smelled like sewage and salt. They passed a group of whores clustered together on the corner, and Ayles offered an exaggerated wolf whistle in exchange for several good-natured obscene gestures.
Charlie finally started the conversation up again, glancing sideways at her. âThat leg is givinâ him a fair bit of trouble, ain't it?â
Ayles frowned in the darkness, dragging her teeth over her bottom lip. âAlmost all the time,â she finally admitted. âLast time I took him in, the doctor was wanting to take off the rest of it off up to his hip. Da said that he'd let her cut it off if he got to shove it up her ass when she was done.â She grinned at Charlieâs guffaw and then sobered again.
âCanât say that I blame him, though. They take off that much of his leg and heâs gonna have a hell of a time getting around.â
âSeems like heâs already havinâ a hell of a time. Why are they wantinâ to take more off?â
She withdrew his arm from his to gesture. âYou know that pin that the leg attaches to? One that comes out of the stump? Was some mad goblin that did that for him. The metal is fused with the bone somehow, supposed to make it easier to with the fake leg. Only for some reason, his body donât like it. Keeps causing infections, and they canât get it out without taking the whole leg. So itâs either deal with the infections, or be a proper cripple.â
âThat why you moved back in with him?â
âMmhm.â Up ahead, she could see the peeling blue paint of Lizzieâs door, and slid her arm through Charlieâs again. âWasnât like I had anything else going on, though. Wasnât any kinda sacrifice to live with him.â
âNo?â Charlie tried to look angelic, but an old scar bisected his face and pulled his features askew; the expression looked demented instead. âI figured youâd have several ginger brats runninâ around by now. Always pictured you as the marryinâ and motherinâ type.â
âOh, hush.â She bumped him with her hip and he pretended to stumble back. âI meant what I said about Lizzie. You tell her her to let me know if thereâs anything I can do.â
They stood in silence for a moment in the recess of the door, just watching each other. Ayles remembered very clearly the first time sheâd crawled in Charlieâs bed, and turned the memory over in her mind, the same way she had toyed with her bourbon glass. There was an ache between her legs and she could tell by his expression that he was remembering something similar and wouldnât turn her down if she followed him inside. Charlie reached out to tug at a loose strand of her hair and rubbed it idly between his thumbs.
In the end Ayles just kissed his cheek, and he responded by pressing his lips to her forehead. She figured that more than anything, it was the memory of wanting him that she felt - an old, comfortable habit that mimicked desire.
âYou get some sleep,â she told him when she stepped away, shaking her finger at him. âWhen I murder your ass at the card table tomorrow, I donât wanna hear that it was just because you were tired.â Her tone softened. âAnd honestly, you oughta come âround more. Redridge ainât that far away.â
She couldnât help but notice again the how deeply etched the lines in his face were and the way his shoulders sagged as he stepped inside his daughterâs house. It was such a strange feeling; somehow he had gotten older without her noticing, and the dissonance between the man in her memories who had been as loud and as large as a bear and the tired old man who was telling his daughter and grandkids goodnight now left a sharp, cold splinter just under her breastbone.
She grew up in an Indiana town Had a good-lookin' mama who never was around But she grew up tall and she grew up right With them Indiana boys on them Indiana nights
Secrets

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Kristofer Hivju by Eirik Johnsen
(Tormund Giantsbane, Game of Thrones)
The difference between my darkness and your darkness is that I can look at my own badness in the face and accept its existence while you are busy covering your mirror with a white linen sheet. The difference between my sins and your sins is that when I sin I know Iâm sinning while you have actually fallen prey to your own fabricated illusions. I am a siren, a mermaid; I know that I am beautiful while basking on the oceanâs waves and I know that I can eat flesh and bones at the bottom of the sea. You are a white witch, a wizard; your spells are manipulations and your cauldron from hell yet you wrap yourself in white and wear a silver wig.
C. JoyBell C. (via thenatureofsin)

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 I am a diamond Ms. Pryde. I am, by definition, my own best friend.
When she was fourteen years old, Marcus Dawson had pulled Ayles into his lap during a card game, and forced one massive hand between her thighs. She had responded immediately by twisting around and breaking his nose, much to the amusement of everyone crowded around the rickety table.
âYour daughterâs a crazy bitch,â heâd roared, holding a rag against his bleeding nose. He was humiliated but trying not to show it, particularly since the others were still jeering, and miming the way Ayles had cocked her fist back.
Talbot only shrugged, keeping his eyes on the cards he was dealing. âIf she donât want none, donât give her none.â
It had been three years, and Dawson still hadnât forgiven her for the slight. His obsession ran in waves; sometimes heâd follow her for weeks at a time, wedging his bulk in a doorway so that she was forced to squeeze past him while he whispered lewd threats in her ear. Sometimes she wouldnât see him for months, when his attention shifted to chasing another piece of tail. It had been over three months since sheâd seen him last, and she figured the whole thing now was nothing but sheer dumb luck on his part.
If it hadnât been for the whore on his arm, she wouldâve turned right back around and gone back out into the street, but with a pair of tits bobbing in his line of vision, she had been confident that he was suitably distracted. She cursed herself repeatedly now as he hauled her up the narrow stairs, his fingers digging into her arm so tightly that it had gone numb.
âFuck you,â she hissed, âFuck you, fuck you, fuck you.â
âYeah, youâre gonna. Shut the fuck up about it, alright? Stuck-up ginger bitch. Heâs been lettinâ you run wild when he shouldâve done somethinâ about the mouth on you.â
He propelled her down the hallway towards the very last room, too drunk to feel the kicks she kept aiming at him. Once she had come close to catching him in the crotch, but heâd merely shoved her forward and then given her a good hard shake, like a terrier toying with a rat. Fury bubbled up in her stomach and turned to bile at the back of her throat.
It wasnât the first time sheâd fucked a man, and only the initial thrust was uncomfortable. She clawed at his face, but he caught both her wrists and squeezed them until the bones ground together. Ayles screamed and let out another stream of curses, but the pain was like a splash of cold water. It turned the rage in her belly to ice and left her with the ability to properly think.
It was over in minutes; a couple dozen thrusts and then he was stiff and groaning loudly in her ear. Ayles marveled at that - all that trouble for just two minutes of his time. She sincerely hoped it was the best goddamn two minutes of Dawsonâs short, miserable life. Her mouth twitched and she bit at her bottom lip, but by the time he was climbing off of her, she was snickering.
âCrazy bitch. What the fuck is wrong with you?â He slapped her hard enough to twist her head to one side, but he looked unnerved and anxious, and it only made Ayles laugh harder. Dawson raised his hand in warning, but he was already scrambling back away from her and hastily yanking his trousers back over his hips.
âYou should be goddamned grateful, you know that? Ugly bitch.â Her laughter followed him out of the room and down the hall.
That night, Talbot eyed her bruises with interest, but she didnât offer any information and he didnât ask.
****
âI heard somethinâ interestinâ tâday.â
âYeah?â Ayles lowered the book she was reading and sat up, raising her brows at her father. âWhat kinda interestinâ?â
âThe guards pulled a body out of the canal last night.â
She snorted and returned her attention to the book. âDa, that happens near every day. Now Iâm worried yer gettinâ soft in the head.â
âI ainât finished with the story, you insufferable harpy. Light, when the gods wanted to curse men, they gave us women.â
Ayles hid her grin behind the book and listened to Talbot mutter savagely to himself as he limped across the room. She expected a comment about the book and was faintly surprised when one didnât come; her father was mostly illiterate and fascinated by literature in the same way that many people were fascinated by large animals that could easily kill them.
âWhat I was sayinâ before you went and interrupted me, was that apparently it was Marcus Dawson that they fished out.â He stopped several feet away, and she could feel him looking at her. When she didnât interject, the man shuffled over and sat next to her on the bed, groaning quietly as he rubbed at his prosthesis.
âWasnât just that, neither. Before they went and tossed âim in tâ the canal, someone had taken the trouble of removinâ his cock and his balls, and forcinâ âem in his mouth. There was a lively debate goinâ on about whether or not it was the bleeding that killed âim, or the drowninâ.â
âMm. He mustâve had it cominâ, then. Thatâs what I figure.â
Talbot glanced sideways at her, but Ayles kept her eyes on the page. âYeah,â he said finally, and then reached out to give her thigh a squeeze. âI figure he did have it coming.â He patted her thigh. âGood girl. Donât ever take no shit.â The man stood up again and made his way over to the cupboard to start noisily foraging for food.
âDa?â
âMm?â He swung around to face her, a half-empty bottle of whiskey already heading towards his mouth.
âWasnât the blood nor the drowninâ that killed âim. It was choking tâ death on his own cock that did it.â
Talbot cackled and lifted his bottle in her direction. âCrazy bitch,â he said affectionately. âBest warn me the next time you pull a stunt like that. I couldâve made some money off of it.â

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