#handywolfman

Things had been going fairly well —  not hitting on the newest waitress at Merlotte’s or eating Gran’s fresh apple pie, but some degree of relative calm had settled upon Jason’s life. A couple of weeks of calm began feeling like a lifetime, but in hindsight the old expression of the calm before the storm proved horridly correct. Vampires, shifters, and gods were bad enough, but ever since his sister dove head first into werewolf drama, things had escalated to new levels of shit storms. Investigating a few strange deaths and helping out Sookie ended with five werewolves in wolf form growling and frothing something fierce. 

He remembered the gun slipping from his grip, running through the woods, and then.. Jason woke up with a terrible headache. Worse yet he was locked up like some sort of.. well, an animal. He was bruised, a little bloody, though he still had all limbs and digits in tact; clothes were a different matter. The hell was the point?! Was it meant to degrade him, or was some sick piece of shit vampire or werewolf behind all of it? The Stackhouse wasn’t left nursing a bruised ego and aching body for long. 

Among his screams and futile attempts to escape, a group of felonious werewolves broke his solitude to haul in an equally naked and beaten Alcide. Sookie’s friend. Another werewolf. Another person who got wrapped up in chaos. Jason yelled and threatened until his lungs burned, but the werewolves only spat in his direction, leaving them both in dark solitude. Jason sat naked in his cell, hugging his legs close to his chest, and waited. And waited. He almost fell asleep from pure boredom when he heard Alcide’s breathing hitch as he woke and stirred.

❝  Hey, hey, man!  ❞   As if the other man would suddenly disappear, Jason rushed to his feet and crossed the cell to grip the bars of his bondage. If anyone could get them out of their hell, it was Alcide, or Sookie, or other friends on the outside. Hand waved in the air to catch the were’s attention, only for both hands to shoot down to cover his groin when Alcide spoke.  

@handywolfman

Hazelton Township, Rattler County, Texas

Michael Shepard shifted the truck to park, turning the key off before settling back into the seat. The address was in a nice part of a family-friendly neighborhood, an odd choice for a lone wolf, but who was he to point fingers. He had a home of his own, no family, no wife, he was in no position to cast stones at the stranger. But it spoke well of him that his choice in domicile had a well-maintained exterior and yard. Even now, Michael could see new bags of mulch in a neat pile waiting to be distributed amongst the low flower beds.

Sucking in a breath, he snapped off his seatbelt and opened the door, stepping out into early spring air tinted with past rain. It was a clean smell, though the weather was fighting between chilly and warm. Typical spring. His boots crunched asphalt as he circled the front of his truck, opening the passenger door to retrieve the gift basket (GIFT BASKET, for chrissakes, thanks Hannah) the pack had sent with him. Michael was alpha, of course he'd be the one welcoming the new wolf to the area, but it lacked a certain dignity to him to have this thing in his hand. Had they let him make the decision, he'd have just brought a bottle of scotch and been done with it. But no, the ladies had insisted.

With a sigh, Michael approached the front porch of the modest home, straightening shoulders under a crisp button-down with sleeves rolled 3/4s and topmost buttons undone. He stuffed his keys into a back pocket of his jeans, stepping up the porch before stopping at the door. The main door had been left open, the storm door's screen window allowing a quick view down a bare hallway and stairwell to the side.

@handywolfman || x Send “%” for a CURIOUS text.

He'd only been to this part of the country on book tours before but every time he'd found it intriguing. And now here he was with a rented house — big and solitary, close to the forest — writing a new novel inspired by his surroundings.

Continued from here.

Send me ‘☠’ to hear what my muse would say to yours if they were completely drunk off their head.

@handywolfman

Danny wasn’t quite sure what exactly he was feeling in that moment. It was as if he were under some sort of spell, drawing him closer and closer to Alcide as the weeks went on. He didn’t even quite realize it until he was there at his place, well past midnight, staring into his eyes as if looking away would cause certain death. And considering his friends abilities, he wouldn’t entirely deny something supernatural was at play - if he didn’t seem equally entranced.