Swiftcurrent Creek Cars lining the streets, choking the place where kids could make believe
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Ooc — Chelsie
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OOC: Dinner bells a-ringing

With half the hare stashed for the pack and half in her belly, Wylla figured now was as good a time as any to return to her duty of Walking Milk Bags. What a horrible life. That was the last time she let any dude's pecker near her sacred temple, thank you very much. She'd been out for over half an hour stretching her legs, but she still dragged her paws all the way back to her musty den, simultaneously begging for @Tiercel to be dead so she would be free of the responsibility, and terrified of the possibility.

Why had she left her baby alone again? Whose stupid idea was that?!

Wylla hastened her steps to clear the last few yards to her den and whistled out a quiet whine to draw her still-totally-deaf daughter's attention. Idiot. Clutched tightly in her muzzle was a velveteen ear severed from the hare before she'd buried it, a gift for her only child, and hopefully a distraction. Her saggy tits weren't even the least bit attractive, and that was to say nothing of how badly they ached and burned on a daily basis from Tiercel's insistent suckling. Anything that could keep her daughter occupied long enough for Wylla to catch a few winks without milk teeth gnawing on her sensitive nips was a gift from God.

Thanks, Jesus. I knew hanging out with you today was a good idea. She slid on her belly into the dark shadows, wincing as her aforementioned parts dragged against the ground, just in time to see the aftermath of Tiercel's unceremonious first kiss with Mother Earth. "The hell are you doing?" she murmured, dropping the ear right on Tiercel's back to draw the kid's attention. Her eyes were open, but it was like looking into the vacant stare of a guppy in an unfurnished fish bowl and knowing that any brain activity was minimal at best. How was Wylla to know that that was simply Tiercel being blind as all hell while her senses developed? She genuinely thought her kid was slow in the head, and that'd make sense given who the father was.

"Suck on that," she commanded, and flopped down on her side in the little space afforded at the other end of the den.
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[Image: 9-ringing-the-dinner-bell-funny-gif.gif]

a dark shadow eclipsed the dimly lit den mouth; Tiercel could neither bring the shape into focus nor hear the question raised. her perception of her mother was only quantifiable by the instinct to draw attention to herself bulldozing its way to the top of her list of priorities anytime Wylla was nearby. intuition took census as usual and moved forward procedurally with a backlog of complaints, a series of fussy grunts and yawps that were only silenced once she felt something brush against her.   

oof. Tiercel’s legs starfished with alarm as the hare’s ear draped across her shoulders like a ceremonial poncho. it wasn’t that it was particularly heavy, but talk about a rude way to solicit someones attention. >:( she threw her head back, head disappearing into the fat-rolls of her nape as she tried to track the movements of her mother with the opaque bore of her crossed eyeballs. suck on that, huh? bet that’s what my daddy said and look how that turned out. luckily for you I’m a godsend. 

she stirred for a minute, twisting around to nose at the velvety pelt with curiousity. she investigated the taste of it with her mouth, gumming on the foreign texture and standing unsteadily to patter a few inches lengthwise to the discovery of the hare’s scut. of course she put that in her mouth too, slobbering on it and enjoying the sensation of the fuzz on her gums.
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Predictably stupid as ever, Tiercel went right for the decoy and Wylla was able to relax for a moment with her spine curved back into the wall of their den. Rabbit ears made for good chew toys: firm with just a little give and very resilient to the tearing action of teeth. She supposed when she thought of it like that, she really couldn't fault her fussy fuck-up for investigating it.

Still, she had to give voice to her innermost thoughts as always: "God, you're dumb. It's so easy to manipulate you." Parenthood was really just one long term of manipulating your children into doing the things you don't like doing yourself, right? In her head it was a dream come true where Tiercel would hunt for her ("it's practice, I swear") and bring back wonderful tokens ("great job scouting, kiddo!"), if only she could get past the part where kids never stop wanting shit from you.

Wait, that never stops?

Shit.

Snaking one white-tipped paw forward, the she-wolf slyly trapped the ear's tip between her toes and the earth and then slowly began to drag it toward herself, away from Tiercel, if only to gauge how well her daughter shared. If she was anything like her, sharing toys was synonymous with an apocalypse-sized meltdown.
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unaware of the disdain with which she was ostensibly regarded, Tiercel went about her business as such—happy to practice vital economics on the velveteen ear as her mother schemed social experiments in the background. 

suddenly, she felt the froth-wet plaything snatched from her mouth. she certainly didn’t like things being taken from her, and expressed this immediately in a quaintly packaged growl. excuse me? excuse me? no? she felt the vibration of the sound she’d just created bubble in her throat and lumberingly stomped after the trailing end of the ear, letting loose an opinionated shriek at the thieving paw. mine! it asserted.

she was too small yet for apocalypse-sized anythings, but localized calamity was about accurate for the shaft of distress this demonstration of “pulling a fast one” had manifested in her.
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Reaction time was within normal parameters. The volume of her growl was perhaps a touch higher than the average tyke's, but that made sense given her dam was quick to snarl at everything and her father was an insufferable blowhard. The banshee scream that followed was certainly outside the norm for wolf pups, more of a fox's blood-curdling yowl, and Wylla snatched both her ears and her paw back, scowling at her toddler.

"Okay, okay, jeez," she said, tucking her paw back under her chest and allowing Tiercel to reclaim the ear. Her shifted so both hind legs stuck out from her side in what might be called an elegant side saddle, if only this were a horse. "Nobody's gonna want you later in life if you scream like that," she advised. "No one likes a screamer in the bedroom."
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all signs point to velociraptor. the dastardly paw was plucked away like the oopsie daisy Wylla had picked and clutched to her breast. the revelation that she could control the actions of others through stentorian tactics was enough to appease Tiercel’s tyrannical sensibilities, at least until this stopped keeping her interest and she wanted something else.

surely a single instance of positively reinforcing an undesirable behavior wouldn’t effect anything significant, right? right.

her indignant bluster trickled into grumbles that carried on as she yoinked the ear back into her possession, streaming her tail through the air vaingloriously. harrumph. she shambled to a corner with the rabbit’s ear straddled between her legs, hunching over the curio in a manner most gollum-esque. 

nobody likes a screamer in the bedroom, huh? well, mother, nobody likes a dead fish either yet here we have an attestation to it’s effectiveness. get the job done right, or get it done fast. guess which one you and dad chose?

guardedly segregated from the would-be bandit, Tiercel folded her paws neatly and chomped her prize with great tenacity—tenacious enough that she inhaled and started choking on the end she’d already greedily packed into her mouth.
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Training a child was as easy as training a dog, but Wylla had neither experience with children nor dogs to draw from. Giving the screeching little shit what she wanted was the quickest way to get her to shut up, so it was the method most conducive to Wylla's desires. She didn't have any foresight to know what a terrible decision all of this was; that would come later. Her future was lining up perfectly for that ultimate fight where Tiercel comes home with a tattoo on her ass cheek reading "fuck off mom" and proceeds to walk all over poor Wylla.

The inherent bond between mother and daughter was absent for a fleeting moment as the masked she-wolf turned her head away from her possessive spawn just long enough for Tiercel to get herself in trouble. Again. Seriously, you couldn't leave her alone for two seconds. The yacking sound had an instant effect on the new mother, who shot to her feet and cleared the den in the space of two seconds. She hoisted Tiercel into the air, away from the ear she was choking on, and proceeded to gently shake her up-and-down in a vain effort to dislodge whatever was in her throat.
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through her labored gagging she still had the ear in a determined grist-bite and continued to sink her milk-teeth into the same cartilage obstructing her priority to breathe. in fact she postured defensively when the umbrage of her mother hurled over her, and like a dog scarfing down cat vomit as its owner ran up screaming NO LEAVE IT, she put on the afterburners and stuffed more in, stifling a retch as the ear tickled her uvula. 

there was barely enough time to muster a dissenting bleat before she was scruffed and shaken like she had filched dimes in her pockets. ”hrhhrhrhrhrhbhrbhrbhrk….hrk..” her stomach was beginning to get a little upsetti spaghetti from all the motion and undigested milk, and after a few good rattles everything spewed out. milk and stomach acid eructed from her mouth and her nostrils. Wylla's feet were probable casualities.

now lubricated, the ear lodged in her craw slopped out into a slimy pile on the ground with the rest of the regurgitated gunge. Tiercel moaned with unease, falling limp in her mother’s mouth with her ears drooping in a pitiful outward splay as a shudder leafed through her body.
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She would never know just how dumb her child was being in the moment; she was too busy shaking her in some wolfish equivalent to the Heimlich maneuver to know that her idiot daughter was trying to force the ear further into her gluttonous gullet. Had she been privy to this, Wylla may well have just let her die. After all, something with so much evident brain damage was only going to be a burden in the future, she reasoned, and she didn't have time for a forever-child. She only had time for this singular one, and when she flew the coop, hallelujah baby, back to party life.

It didn't take long for the ear to fall away, but right on its heels was a wave of unpleasant stink and curdled milk that made Wylla herself retch. Tiercel flopped unceremoniously down into her own sick, and Wylla fought down a wave of repulsion. She lost, of course. Even as her babe's ears wilted down, Wylla's fell back, her jaws open, and a cascade of her own vomit enveloped the entirety of Tiercel.

Fucking fuck fuck fuck, said her brain as she drowned her baby in meaty chunks, now I'm gonna have to put it in my mouth to clean her god damnit.
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everything was happening so quickly. after the vomitus of her mother rushed down her back, the fermented milk from her earp pooled at her ankles and assimilated Wylla’s more full-bodied chunder like rancid soup. the turmoil was so overstimulating to Tiercel, the nervousness roiled vigorously in her already upset stomach and she spewed again, any stomach acid remaining now covered every square inch and both her and her mother's lunch now liberally drenched her.

good thing Tiercel’s nose was a nonfunctioning feature, because between the two of them, their den now reeked of partially digested flesh and hot, coagulated milk. the stench alone was enough to make the raccoons living in the trees next door blow chunks.
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It was like something out of a movie, only it was actually hell. Tiercel did admirably well for being covered in vomit—she didn't cry, at least, which was better than Wylla would be doing in her position—but when she horked again, Wylla decided they'd both had enough. It was everything she could do to grasp her puke-soaked babe by the scruff and whisk her out of the den. She hustled toward the creek and barely made it there in time to deposit Tiercel on the bank and heave into the current.

She wasted no time scarfing down bucket-loads of water to cleanse her palette before turning back to her child and picking her up. Wylla managed to only gag twice against the back of her daughter's neck as she turned, dangled her over the creek, and then dunked her without warning.
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i found roses set on fire
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closing this urp
there comes a day in every young, defenseless heathen’s life when that god-fearing family member tries to scour the sinner from within the fledgling soul via baptism. 

Wylla had no god fearing family members; nay, an array of demons had shacked up in her soul’s interior years ago. it was surprise then, to no one, that she now sought to drown her child, stinking of puke, in the creek alongside their home. badger-face proceeded to dunk Tiercel in the chilly water like an oreo cookie, until she was thoroughly soaked through to her bones. cleansed of vomitus, but still faintly evil-smelling, she was plonked back on the ground while Wylla rinsed her mouth.

the expression of the child was a pitiful vista; a black, waterlogged look. she trembled from the cold and gave her coat a good shake-out, sending pellets of water in every direction, before shambling to Wylla’s feet and curling up around her foot for warmth. 

after Wylla finished cleaning herself up in the creek, she scruffed barf-bag and took them both home.
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