dawg with a blog

Shadow 2-04 | Solidarity Forever 18+ MDNI | RP Blog

[callsign-coyote]

it's a dog eat dog world, baby|

!PINNED POST

i'm jay (he/him) aka @elaphocordyceps (my main). i'm 21. if you have questions, feel free to ask. read my rules before interacting. this blog will delve into topics that may be triggering for some, including homophobia, transphobia and suicide, as well as other adult topics. these are parts of the story I have written and I do not censor myself. do not follow if these make you uncomfortable.

!PAGES

rules. character info.

!ANONS

🪳, 🐺

!TAGS

#command line argument - rp starter #encrypted transmission - rp tag #comsec violation - ask answering #coyotepost - what it says on the tin

[callsign-coyote]

a grumble is pulled from coyote's throat, the skin on his neck all the more sensitive from his oncoming transformation. he doesn't pull away - the warm breath on his skin isn't unpleasant, just different. he glances down at his commander, and is overcome by a feeling of strange endearment. he quickly pushes the feeling and any thoughts of what he'll look like in the morning to the back of his mind, focusing on getting the two of them up a flight of stairs.

coyote's keys jingle as he shoves them in door, ring occupied by far too many keys and tchotchkes to be reasonable. he snorts quietly at the comment, turning the handle as he answers.

"can't say its what i imagined either. not sure you taking up my entire bed is really something to be dreaming of…" he trails off, the door swinging open. he hefts graves over the doorstep, making no effort to take either of their shoes off. the walk to the bedroom is blessedly short. for once the apartment's small square footage proves convenient, rather than a nuisance. his commander is dropped unceremoniously onto the bed, and coyote relishes in the way he flops over weakly.

"stay there," he rumbles. "don't want you dribbling blood all over my house." he pauses momentarily, staring down at the man in his bed. "'m gonna get you a pot."

coyote retreats to the kitchen, rummaging around in a cabinet. when he stands again, a wave of nausea washes over him. he grips the counter, sharpening nails scraping against the laminate as he grows in size ever so slightly. his bones ache. his skin itches. it's all too much.

he shakes his head like a dog who's had all too much fun at the lake and returns to the bedroom, setting the pot next to the bed frame.

"throw up in there if you need to." coyote stares at the empty space next to graves and sighs. "'m gonna take the couch."

[cmdr-graves]

A pillow with its cover half on provides the only bit of comfort as the room spins like a skipping record. The smell of Coyote makes him salivate- the body can't seem to recognize the toxicity its craving.

Graves buries his head deeper into it, a dead man trying to nest, and lets his eyes drift closed when Coyote leaves the room.

A bin gets placed in front of him, and a weight settles behind him. The pillow is given up in favor of Coyote's chest. The world stops turning just for the moment.

His stomach doesn't.

The bin comes as a blessing when Graves dry heaves into it, gagging around nothing. When his eyes pop open to find Coyote in front of him, and, notably, not beside him in the bed, Coyote might just see tears well in his eyes.

And the sudden growth gets chalked up to the pitiful state Graves is in.

A weak, cold hand reaches for Coyote before he gets the chance to turn and leave, glassy eyes looking up at him like he's the only person that can make any of this better.

He is.

"Stay here- what if... I die in y'r bed? Y'just gonna leave me here?"

[callsign-coyote]

coyote stares at the man in his bed, pointedly ignoring the bin set down on the floor. its pathetic, he thinks, how small he looks. any earlier in the day, and he would have bet good money that a vampire couldn't cry. something twists in his stomach. pleasure? pride? coyote isn't sure. whatever it is, it and the hand crumpled in the front of his shirt stop him from retreating to the living room immediately.

"you're dead already," coyote says, a quiet snort emitting from his nose. "i coulda' left you in a shallow grave 'n you'd've been fine." his tone falls into its usual needling, aiming to poke his commander in all the wrong places. not that it matters - his feet never move from where they're planted. the fist balled in his shirt might as well be made of tungsten.

coyote sighs, and his shoulders drop in submission. it really does irk him, how easy it seems to be for graves to get what he wants. his belt clinks as it hits the floor, followed by the soft thumps of a pair of pants and a shirt. if he's lucky, his inevitable shift will hold itself until morning, when he can hide away and cope as he always does. lady luck, however, has never really been keen on him. in spite of her, he crawls into bed.

the dreams that plague him are scattered. moving shapes and flashing colors, brief visions of a blurred face. coyote is too hot. he feels heavier, covered in a blanket his waking mind knows doesn't exist. something presses up against him, small and cold. it's a welcome respite, and he inches closer, relaxing into the sensation. he doesn't wake until the light of morning begins to burn his eyelids.

eyes scrunch, and coyote inhales deeply, enjoying the scent of fresh earth that fills his nostrils. he nuzzles in, licking at the form held close to his chest. his eyes blink open, squinting in the early morning sun. graves looks small beneath him, smaller than usual. it tickles coyote, how little he looks, and for a moment he pulls the other man closer, relishing in the slight movements that indicate his commander is alive (dead) and kicking. his bones crack as he stretches, movement revealing something between hands and paws.

shit. its not like it matters all that much. breakfast still has to get made.

[callsign-coyote]

The engine sputters to life, whining in protest. yeah, yeah. coyote thinks. i'll get to you one day. he shifts his feet to find the gas pedal, and frowns when his knees thump against the bottom of the dash. the moonlight outside taunts him, body stuck between man and monster. shifting would make this easier. then again, the last thing new mexico needs is more conspiracies. coyote leans his head back against the leather seat and shifts the chair back, yanking the transmission out of park unceremoniously.

they roll down the city streets, quiet this far into the night. too quiet, coyote decides, and flicks on the radio. some far off AM station crackles through the speakers, distorted guitars sounding more like static. he fights the urge to slap his commander's hand off the knob when he turns it down. any annoyance is interrupted by incredulity at the slurred question that falls from graves' mouth. coyote glances his way in utter bafflement.

"jesus man, you fucking hired me. i figured you'd at least glance at the file." he scoffs, and shakes his head, pressing his foot down onto the brake more harshly than he really should, shifting gears. even in the low light he can see the man next to him looks green. "if you're gonna throw up, open the window."

the tinny, upbeat voice of some product's spokesman begins to sound from the speakers, and coyote twists the dial to a new station, the sound of static filling the cab.

they wind through city streets, coyote trying his best to fit into the skin of a normal driver - a monumental task for someone who spent the best of their formative driving years in cambridge, massachusetts. he idles at a red light, watching the white man change to a flashing red hand, and contemplates asking for an address. one glance at the pallid complexion and furrowed brows of the man in the passenger seat changes his mind. the turn signal thunks on, and 15 minutes later he pulls into a parking lot.

coyote slams his door shut and waits. when no sound comes from the passenger side, he grumbles, pulling the door open, and lifting graves out of the seat.

"c'mon, up and at 'em." he says, locking the car behind him. his keys jingle quietly as he fumbles about, trying to unlock the door with one hand. it door swings open eventually, and slams shut with a swift kick. coyote doesn't bother to take off his shoes, dragging the dead weight of his commander into the bedroom and letting him slump down onto the bed.

[cmdr-graves]

In further attempts to keep himself from spewing the mixture of blood and drink that churns his stomach, Graves lets his eyes drift shut. The momentum of turns taken too hard make his head swim. Somehow, he keeps it together until they're parked.

Yet again, his world moves by Coyote's hands.

Graves had always imagined Coyote's apartment to smell much like his clothes do - a lingering smell of cigarettes, and a musk that Graves will soon realize is the scent of werewolf. A musk that now consumes him when he's tucked into Coyote's side. But there's a distinct scent of cleaning supplies as Graves sorts through it.

It settles his stomach just the slightest bit.

Under him, he finds his feet, but there's no effort made to move away from Coyote. Quite the opposite, as Graves buries his face in the space between Coyote's shoulder and neck.

"Never thought ya takin' me home would look like this - not that I'm complainin'."

[callsign-coyote]

a grumble is pulled from coyote's throat, the skin on his neck all the more sensitive from his oncoming transformation. he doesn't pull away - the warm breath on his skin isn't unpleasant, just different. he glances down at his commander, and is overcome by a feeling of strange endearment. he quickly pushes the feeling and any thoughts of what he'll look like in the morning to the back of his mind, focusing on getting the two of them up a flight of stairs.

coyote's keys jingle as he shoves them in door, ring occupied by far too many keys and tchotchkes to be reasonable. he snorts quietly at the comment, turning the handle as he answers.

"can't say its what i imagined either. not sure you taking up my entire bed is really something to be dreaming of…" he trails off, the door swinging open. he hefts graves over the doorstep, making no effort to take either of their shoes off. the walk to the bedroom is blessedly short. for once the apartment's small square footage proves convenient, rather than a nuisance. his commander is dropped unceremoniously onto the bed, and coyote relishes in the way he flops over weakly.

"stay there," he rumbles. "don't want you dribbling blood all over my house." he pauses momentarily, staring down at the man in his bed. "'m gonna get you a pot."

coyote retreats to the kitchen, rummaging around in a cabinet. when he stands again, a wave of nausea washes over him. he grips the counter, sharpening nails scraping against the laminate as he grows in size ever so slightly. his bones ache. his skin itches. it's all too much.

he shakes his head like a dog who's had all too much fun at the lake and returns to the bedroom, setting the pot next to the bed frame.

"throw up in there if you need to." coyote stares at the empty space next to graves and sighs. "'m gonna take the couch."

[callsign-coyote]

coyote scoffs, downing the rest of his drink.

“you know i hate it when you call me that.”

the glass thunks against the sticky, lacquered wood of the bar, and coyote knocks his shoulder against graves’, hand ghosting over the small of the other man’s back. when he speaks again, it’s through a sleazy grin that graces his features all too often.

“‘n i dunno. maybe if you ask real nice…”

[cmdr-graves]

Graves' drink has long since been forgotten in favor of his hands on Coyote, prodding and pulling where ever Coyote would allow. He moves on to tug on a belt loop beneath flannel. Greedy.

"What'd'ya want? I'd get on my knees but you'll have me there soon enough."

[callsign-coyote]

coyote grins, dropping a couple 20s on the bar. he’s just as handsy, tucking his thumb into the waistband of his commander’s pants.

“you’re a nasty piece of work, you know that? what happened to asking nice?”

he tugs at the waist with his thumb, leaning close enough to taste the other man’s breath (the smoke and tannins from barrel aged whiskey).

“are we goin’ or not? i can’t imagine anyone’s all that interested in a show. and im not interested on being on a registry.”

[cmdr-graves]

im on the computer so i cant send emojis imagine a beer can @callsign-coyote

drag my muse to go out to a bar

It's rare that they go out together. It's even rarer that Coyote is the one to invite him. But Graves already too far gone, entirely too close with a lock of Coyote's hair twirled around his finger.

"Mmm... hi."

[callsign-coyote]

coyote huffs in response and takes another swig of his drink. for once in his life he doesn’t pull away from the touch. maybe it’s the alcohol that thrums in his veins. maybe it’s something else.

“hey yourself.”

[cmdr-graves]

If the sober version of himself saw the flush spread across his cheeks, he'd pull himself from the seat at the bar and express in not-so-kind words just exactly how much he's embarassing himself.

But alcohol shed his inhibitions and he leans in close to the space above Coyote's shoulder.

"Y'gonna take me home, Michael?"

[callsign-coyote]

coyote scoffs, downing the rest of his drink.

“you know i hate it when you call me that.”

the glass thunks against the sticky, lacquered wood of the bar, and coyote knocks his shoulder against graves’, hand ghosting over the small of the other man’s back. when he speaks again, it’s through a sleazy grin that graces his features all too often.

“‘n i dunno. maybe if you ask real nice…”

[cmdr-graves]

im on the computer so i cant send emojis imagine a beer can @callsign-coyote

drag my muse to go out to a bar

It's rare that they go out together. It's even rarer that Coyote is the one to invite him. But Graves already too far gone, entirely too close with a lock of Coyote's hair twirled around his finger.

"Mmm... hi."

[callsign-coyote]

coyote huffs in response and takes another swig of his drink. for once in his life he doesn’t pull away from the touch. maybe it’s the alcohol that thrums in his veins. maybe it’s something else.

“hey yourself.”

[callsign-coyote]

im gonna hack your computer

yea man lets see you try that. i hope you enjoy intrusive pornography ads.

[callsign-coyote]

💫 Ten years from now, what random Tuesday are they spending together?

👀 Who gets jealous more easily & how obvious are they about it?

🧩 What tiny habit of the other do they find unbearably adorable?

@cmdr-graves

yelling at eachother about something stupid. probably the price of whatever the latest thing they bought is (new computer parts, a nice cut of meat, another houseplant to neglect

i think its kinda even, graves def shows it more outwardly. coyote cant recognize the feeling in himself very well, and doesnt really show it, he just kinda feels bad

as much as he complains about all the fancy things graves likes to buy, he is kind of tickled by how much he preens. likes teasing him about new greys whether theyre there or not.

[raesource]

ship headcanon questions

make sure to include the pairing(s) you are wanting these questions to be answered for . these should work for poly ships as well as monogamous . feel free to edit these as you see fit .

💕 How did they both realize “oh wait, this is actually love”?

🌹 Who fell harder & who fell first?

🫂 What’s their favorite way to hold each other when words aren’t enough?

🔥 What’s the pettiest thing they’ve ever argued about?

💋 Who says “I love you” first & how?

🌙 Who’s the little spoon & who pretends they hate it but secretly loves it?

💍 Would they ever get married? What would the proposal look like?

🧸 Who still has the very first gift the other ever gave them?

😈 Who is more likely to start chaos “for the vine” & who films it?

🎶 What’s their song - the one that makes them both tear up / grin like idiots?

☕ Who’s the morning person & how do they lure the night owl out of bed?

🛡️ Who jumps in front of danger for the other without thinking?

😳 What’s the most embarrassing thing they’ve walked in on the other doing?

💔 What’s the one fight that almost ended them?

🩹 How do they comfort each other after nightmares?

👀 Who gets jealous more easily & how obvious are they about it?

🍳 Who cooks & who sets off the smoke alarm trying to help?

🧳 If they had to run away together tomorrow, where would they go?

😏 Who is bolder in public (hand-holding, kisses, etc.)?

🌧️ Who steals whose hoodies when it rains?

🎂 How do they celebrate each other’s birthdays?

🖤 What’s the darkest “we’ll never tell anyone” thing they’ve done together?

💌 Who leaves little love notes & where do they hide them?

🛌 Who hogs the blanket & who ends up freezing dramatically?

😴 Who falls asleep first & who watches them with heart-eyes?

🚪 Who’s more likely to say “we’re not leaving this room today”?

🌸 What nickname do they have for each other that would mortify them if others heard?

🎤 Who sings in the shower & who secretly records it for blackmail?

💞 How do they act when one of them is sick?

🩸 Who would literally kill for the other & who would help hide the body?

🌅 Do they go on sunrise / stargazing dates? Which one do they love more?

😤 Who apologizes first after a fight, even if they weren’t wrong?

🧩 What tiny habit of the other do they find unbearably adorable?

🎪 Who plans elaborate surprise dates & who just wants to stay in?

👑 In their relationship, who’s the king / queen & who’s the knight / advisor?

🌪️ What’s the most chaotic thing they’ve done together on pure impulse?

💤 Who has the weirdest sleep-talking lines that the other quotes constantly?

🧡 What color reminds each of them of the other?

🕰️ If they could go back in time, what moment would they relive together?

😶 Who’s terrified of saying “meet my parents” & why?

🍷 Who gets tipsy first & starts spilling embarrassing love confessions?

🌿 Do they want kids/pets/plants together? What do they name them?

🪞 Who takes longer getting ready & who hypes the other up in the mirror?

💥 What’s the biggest risk one of them took for the other that the partner didn’t find out about until much later?

🧣 Who steals the other’s scarf / gloves “on accident” every winter?

🌌 What’s their “we made it through hell” memory they’ll tell their grandkids?

😘 Who kisses the other first thing in the morning, morning breath & all?

🩰 Slow dancing in the kitchen at 3 a.m. - who starts it?

⚓ If one of them had to leave forever, what would they leave behind for the other?

💫 Ten years from now, what random Tuesday are they spending together?

[cmdr-graves]

[ closed rp for @callsign-coyote ]

》poison spreading to my lungs

It's all he can think about, the itch under his skin, the tiny craving in the back of his head that over the past few unanswered texts has forced itself forward. So far forward that Graves finds himself in his truck, headed toward a tiny town he's never heard of before Coyote. So far forward he sacrifices two cigarettes from the pack that has sat in the center console for the past few months.

One is smoked in 5th gear, trying to convince himself to drop it back down into 4th and take the next exit to turn around.

And the other in front of an apartment that some part of him felt like he'd never see again, watching how shadows inside move as rain softly patters on the windows.

Neither of them scratch the itch. Neither of them help that desperate need clawing its way to the forefront of his mind.

So he stubs the butt beneath his boot, left with other litter in the road, and closes the distance between his truck and a front door. Graves, long ago, might've wanted to save what was left of his dignity. But the man who has nothing left has nothing left to lose.

Hesitantly, he knocks twice.

"Co-" He hangs his head with a sigh. "Michael? 'S me. Phil."

[callsign-coyote]

john is awoken from his slumber by a loud buzz from the phone buried beneath the scratchy throw pillow on the even scratchier couch. he wouldn't call it his - it isn't really, just like the apartment and the furniture and the name. still, the screen opens when it recognizes his face (something that will belong to him until he dies) (for good this time), the offending application displaying the live feed of his doorway. 'movement detected' doesn't really begin to cover what he sees.

even in the darkness, through the grain and interference, john swears he can make out a face he hasn't seen in months, one that sends him scrambling for the nearest drawer containing a firearm. his fingers tremble slightly as he loads the magazine. he keeps his footsteps silent against the smoke-stained carpeting, and leans his back against the wall of the foyer. he makes no motion to check the peephole. he doesn't need to - its covered with duct tape anyway. john waits, breaths short and shallow, hoping the spectre at his door will fade back into the rainy night.

it doesn't.

instead, it knocks on the heavy wooden door, and calls out a name john hasn't been called in a long time. he flicks off the safety and racks the slide, hoping that somehow the sound defies all logic and makes its way outside. a smarter man would say you've got the wrong address, and a smarter one wouldn't answer at all. that same smart man would call his handler and run away all over again. michael is not a smart man. when he opens his mouth (foolishly), all that comes out is his voice cracking over a string of ill advised words.

"where the hell did you get this address?"

[callsign-coyote]

sorry for my absence guys i was busy getting two bachelors degrees

[cmdr-graves]

long vacation. shame i don’t get the same pto :/

Y'r welcome t'take an unpaid leave.

[callsign-coyote]

it’s like you want me to quit and fuck off to Alberta smh

[cmdr-graves]

No, I want ya t'stay at work. 'S why we don't have unlimited PTO.

[callsign-coyote]

“we” as if he doesn’t take month long vacations

[cmdr-graves]

long vacation. shame i don’t get the same pto :/

Y'r welcome t'take an unpaid leave.

[callsign-coyote]

it’s like you want me to quit and fuck off to Alberta smh

[saw-shadow-company]

heard you’re back in town. ready to get busy living , old man?

@callsign-coyote

Hm. Been living long enough.

[callsign-coyote]

aw cmon you’ve got a couple more years in you. i know a dead man when i see one.

[saw-shadow-company]

Legally dead. Physically? Working on it.

[callsign-coyote]

that’s even better baby. go wild, yknow. i for one am getting shit faced. come by if you wanna indulge

[saw-shadow-company]

Hm. Tempting.

You play cards?

[callsign-coyote]

depends on if i can count em

[saw-shadow-company]

Ups the stakes. Why not.

[callsign-coyote]

you’re on.

[saw-shadow-company]

heard you’re back in town. ready to get busy living , old man?

@callsign-coyote

Hm. Been living long enough.

[callsign-coyote]

aw cmon you’ve got a couple more years in you. i know a dead man when i see one.

[saw-shadow-company]

Legally dead. Physically? Working on it.

[callsign-coyote]

that’s even better baby. go wild, yknow. i for one am getting shit faced. come by if you wanna indulge

[saw-shadow-company]

Hm. Tempting.

You play cards?

[callsign-coyote]

depends on if i can count em

[saw-shadow-company]

heard you’re back in town. ready to get busy living , old man?

@callsign-coyote

Hm. Been living long enough.

[callsign-coyote]

aw cmon you’ve got a couple more years in you. i know a dead man when i see one.

[saw-shadow-company]

Legally dead. Physically? Working on it.

[callsign-coyote]

that’s even better baby. go wild, yknow. i for one am getting shit faced. come by if you wanna indulge

[saw-shadow-company]

heard you’re back in town. ready to get busy living , old man?

@callsign-coyote

Hm. Been living long enough.

[callsign-coyote]

aw cmon you’ve got a couple more years in you. i know a dead man when i see one.