A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

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February 12, 2015
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February 11, 2015
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You’re My Bitch Now

February 9, 2015
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FXXking Bitch…XO

February 8, 2015
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Bitch Slap

February 6, 2015
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Bitch Please

February 4, 2015
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You Say Bitch like it’s a bad thing…

February 3, 2015
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Werewolf fighting 101

July 24, 2010
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Some werewolf females are just bitches and should be treated as such.

It was left up to Jules, to tell Gabby that she couldn’t sit at the Alpha’s table in the club the other night. It didn’t go down well, that the Manhattan Maen Alpha female, was once again, being vanquished from the good graces of the leading pack’s Alpha male, Paris. See, status and hierarchy is a very important thing in a werewolf pack.

Being an Alpha automatically sets you up, as being far more superior and precious and better, than the majority of your fellow werewolves. So seeing a beta wolf, from a neighboring pack, sit at the leading Alpha’s table with him and his hierarchy before her, was never going to go down well with the likes of Gabby’s ego.

Especially since, awhile ago, when I was off the Manhattan scene, she seemed to be filling in the place of ‘female’ required seating at the pack leader’s table. But now I’m back, and that means, she has to go find other places to hang out in the clubs when I’m around. Paris and the boys know, we do not get along.

Werewolves, butt heads with them, if you’re bored or assured of your superiority.

I was in the female restroom when Gabby stormed in, slamming the door behind her, clearly, not taking the news that she was being shuffled around the club to accommodate my presence, all that well.

“Oh it’s you.” She said looking me over as I stood in front of the counter top.

“The feelings mutual.” I muttered back at her, not taking my eyes of the mirror before me. Which was my mistake. It’s like I forgot how feral a pissed of she wolf could be. She marched over to me.

“They treat you like you’re one of us!” She spat in my face, pushing me backwards so I stumbled over my own high heels, off balance slightly and hit the nearest wall.
“You’re not one of us!” She poked me in the chest sharply. “You’re not even an Alpha! I’m the freak’n Alpha female here and you’re the one they treat like the freaking queen of the wolves!” She said moving in front of me so I was backed into the wall with her blocking my escape.

“No, I’m not you. I’m better than you.” I replied smiling at her.

Remember kiddies, the golden rule when werewolves are fighting, is werewolves do not back down. Especially when confronted by pack. Or you know in this case, another, pack wolf bitch.

Her eyes widened, like she couldn’t believe I had the audacity to speak back, let alone throw a massive insult at her. Of course, that just made things worse.

She growled at me, I heard a sharp snap of something and Gabby showed me her fangs. I heard something similar to a popping sound and realized it was muscle and bone breaking. She was shape shifting part of herself, not smoothly or elegantly. But she was getting the job done.

Again, not a good sign, for me.

Gabby grabbed me by the throat with her still very human hand while her right hand slashed at my chest with razor sharp talons for claws. She moved fast. But not so fast I couldn’t see it coming and try and fight her off. She was stronger than me and had me in a bad position to be taken advantage of.

So I decided to play dirty.
You want bitchy, come see me when I’m pissed off. I can roll with the best of them.

I threw up my knee, hard into her body. And as she flinched in sharp pain – yes girls are just as sensitive to getting kicked in the crotch as boys, I threw out a right jab into the side of her face. This caught her off guard and she momentarily loosed her grip on my throat. Which was what I needed to get into a better position of attack, rather than defend.

Werewolf fighting one-o-one, we fight by attacking, not defending.

As she slashed back at my arm with her werewolf clawed hand, I had enough room to move off the wall and throw my elbow into face. She lost all sense of grip on me then as she cried out, her nose bursting with blood. I shoved her aside, into the counter top, which she hit hard, in the side of her body before falling down onto the floor, before she could stop herself.

I kicked her pointedly in the ribs, once, with my heels and got out.

I emerged in the club and it was only then that I realized I was in pain. That I seemed to allow the sensation through my brain haze. The stinging sensation across my arm and chest, was bleeding. I looked down at my top, which was just concealing my breast on one side.

That bitch, she’d cut the shoulder strap off it and had nicely slashed open the left side of my chest, with a wicked streak of claw marks.

When I looked up again, I swear every pair of eyes in that club was on me.
It was the blood.
Fresh blood and every werewolf in the place, could smell it.

My blood, still bleeding, enticing their inner beasts to want out. To want to bear fangs and fur and shred me even more. It’s a natural instinct, a really powerful one, that’s harder than hard to ignore or see reason through. Especially if you’re a werewolf with little self control or weakened will.

Potentially, a very bad situation to be in.

Because bleeding so obviously, out in the open, indicated I was injured. Injury assumes weakness and weakness to werewolves, means prey. Prey gets attacked or eaten.

I could not be seen as prey.

I saw Addison and Jules readying in the distance, throwing hand signals at one another and grabbing their people. But there was still around fifty or so werewolves between them and me. I looked at all the wolves around me, who had stopped whatever they were doing and were now staring at me hungrily, like they were just waiting for a green light to clean me up. Or for some one to make the first move.

So I did the only thing I could do.

I picked another fight, with another wolf. A male wolf nearest too me.

I started throwing punches at him, as hard as I could. Knocking him around, again and again. He threw out a few return punches, but they lacked power. He went down easily enough and I followed him down, continuing to smack his skin with my fists, until my knuckles split open from the hitting. I can not tell you how much that hurts. Werewolves, tough, but not completly oblivious to pain.

Does not back down.

I couldn’t let this pack, see me as a weakness, or think they could somehow take advantage of me because I’m not one of them, or because I’m just a beta wolf. It was a show of strength, and I think the wolf I laid into understood that. Otherwise he’d have really fought back at me.

By this time, Jules was pulling the guy out from under me. Nobody touched me, as I slowly stood back up. Aching with throbbing pain in my hands, arms, stinging abrasions across my chest. Covered in blood.

Addison looked at me.

“I got you another drink, it’s at your table, if you’d like it.” He said loud enough for everyone around us to hear.

I sighed heavily and flicked my hair back over my shoulder. Like nothing was amiss.

Addison and Jules had a guard of older wolves, either side of the crowd that had formed. Like a formation guard for me to walk through. We were putting on a show of who was who, for the pack to see.

Addison started walking beside me. But once again, everything stopped when Gabby appeared from the restroom, holding her hand to her nose. She had blood smeared across her upper lip.

I looked back at her and she at me. If looks could kill, I’d have been dead and buried.
“I hope I broke it.” I said smiling at her.
Addison rolled his eyes at me. As if to say ‘you two are so immature’.

“Shall we?” He asked as I turned around and we walked back over to Paris, at his table.

If I’d have been in real trouble for starting a fight there, Paris himself would have been pulling me off that wolf. Berating me in front of everyone. Or at the very least, instructed Addison to yank me back off him.

But they hadn’t, so clearly, I’d done something right, in standing up for myself.

The 4th of whatever

July 4, 2010
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Wonder Woman is getting rebooted. Twilight has become a “saga” and there is a new hot dog eating champion and some guy blew off his hands with fireworks.

Yeah the world I come from isn’t weird at all, when you look at all these headings.

Makes me glad I’m a werewolf on this fourth of July. It’s odd to think that my strange little world of fur, paws, fights and various issues is more sensible than the one I frequent daily amongst all the nons.

Of course, not everything is hunky dory normal. Well, I guess it depends on your version of what is normal anyway. I have a more open mind than most, since I kind of need to balance between two worlds. Human and werewolf alike – it’s a bit like being Taylor Lautner and occasionally having to wear a shirt in Twilight, so you don’t steal the entire show. Werewolves are after all, natural show stoppers.

Let’s see, first of all there’s the fact that Paris, Addison and I found an interesting little secret in the Appalachians. Turns out, it might have become some neutral territory of sorts, for lycans and shape shifters. We literally stumbled across the scent of a lycan there, an unknown lycan and went searching.

Werewolves do not like lycans being in their territory, it’s rarely ever good. But most of the time, lycans go out of their way, to stay out of our way, when in our territory. They’re sneaky and some would say, stealthy too. I prefer to use the term under-handed and manipulative. They usually don’t stay long in pack areas. Because it’s not healthy or wise for them.

I guess they’re like the street smarts of the supernatural animal world. They make do with whatever they must do, to get to whatever they want to.

And nobody ever stopped to think about it before, or pay the idea much attention, but the Appalachians the perfect area for lycans, shape shifters and whatever else goes bump in the night, to hide out. Sparse and unassuming, natural mountain range close to a major city. There’s enough space there for all of us to hide and hang out in, if required, without directly getting in to any Alpha or pack’s way.

Which is why, for now, Paris has decided to just monitor the situation. There’s not point to getting hot headed and attacking something without knowing fully well what you’re really getting yourself into.

I think it’s an interesting development, because I never really thought lycans all that smart. But then I guess I underestimated them. And because werewolves, are so involved in being werewolves and being werewolves in front of other werewolves, It’s easy to see how we lost sight of all the other things, that fringe on our werewolf world. Like lycans and shape shifters. Of course, it could be considered hard to keep a track or abreast of these beings, when they kindly, too kindly, if you ask me, keep to the shadows. So they can’t be monitored or learned up on by our kind.

Part of me thinks, that’s kind of smart. The other part of me is weary, the werewolf part. Thinks it means, that the lycans, the shifters, and others, are up to something.

A bit like Gabby really. Alpha bitch from the Manhattan Maen pack. I do not know what her agenda is and it’s beginning to shit me. I mean, other than she likes to play games with me by insulting me, flirting with my packmate and being an all round bitch whenever I’m around. She’s always and I do mean, always, being overtly sexual, playful, flirtatious with Paris.

Even when she’s hanging off his brother, Wiatt’s arm! What’s with that?

I keep wondering if she’s looking for a head to head confrontation with me. Because you know what? Compared to her sly manners, I think I’d like the chance to show her that a beta wolf like me can do a lot more than she thinks I can. After all, I attracted her pack’s Alpha, and she didn’t. If she keeps going on the way she is, with me, something will give and I can’t deny my claws won’t be sharpened and ready.

See a regular bitch fight over a guy. Far more normal than today’s headlines. Who’d have thought it?
Okay our bitch fight will literally include claws, and hair pulling will be more like fur shredding, but it’s pretty much the same thing.

Then there’s the regular annoyance that is Conall in my life. After our little pack intervention into the vargr situation, he seems to think this now means, I need him, and that we’re friends and on speaking terms or something.

He keeps texting me to tell me stuff, like, that there’s a fourth of july party on at so and so house in Red Hook. Or that he and his friends are going out for drinks at wherever. Like do I want to join them? Persistance was never a Conall trait before we broke up. And the way he words the messages, makes me think I’m the one being forgiven!! But I don’t see that I did anything wrong in the first place, to be forgiven for!

See just a regular girl, getting her head around, the male species.

The spurned, angry, werewolf species, but still…almost the same thing, right?

One in a hundred

May 16, 2010
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I might have lost the element of surprise, but I got the first hit in.

The bitch was too busy grinning at me as I stepped up to her, opening her mouth, about to ask what the problem was when I threw a left hook into the side of her face. Making her stumble off balance into those around her. But after that first hit, the lycan didn’t care for small talk either. Even though those around us complained and started swearing at her for her awkard landing.


My fist was thumping with what I supposed was pain, but who could tell, I wasn’t really focussed on it or the skin across my left and middle knuckle which had split open and appeared to be bleeding. Tough stuff, this lycan.

The lycan growled at me, her mouth snarling back, showing me her very human teeth. Didn’t matter, her intent was clear as was mine.

This is the thing with lycans, they seem to embrace fighting, even more than werewolves do. They love to fight anyone, anything, but of course, especially, a werewolf. Pitty she couldn’t remember me really, I thought as she lunged towards me. That would make the fighting so much sweeter, for the both of us.

I swiveled out of her reach.

Still, I was prepared to just pummel her senseless till I was exhausted enough for my memory to be sedate. Given how strong my memory of that summer was, I knew I’d be working her lycan body like a punch bag, for hours. Which made me smile as I blocked a punch and proceeded to give her a stinging upper cut with my right.

But all that did was really piss her off. Make her really, mad.

And she grinned, her very human teeth, suddenly shape shifting to wolf fangs. My eyes widened at the sight. Some woman around us, starting screaming and screaming and wouldn’t stop. Her shrill voice felt like it was going to make my ears bleed.

Those fangs were freakishly big and sharp.


I was barely aware of the rest of my surroundings and the people that were around us.
But the lycan was.

Here was something I clearly didn’t remember or recognize at the time, about the hunter before me now. She was, is, an Alpha Lycan.


Alpha lycans are similar, but not exactly like, Alpha werewolves. They are made, rather than born, through a werewolf bite. And for something like one in a hundred of those people who are turned into lycans, you get an Alpha. That is to say, there body inherits better abilities, than the average lycan. They usually only pick up one or two tricks. I’d be guessing, but in the case of this lycan bitch, I’d say fast shape shifting would be one of her bonuses.

She only took her eyes off me to turn and run. Fleeing through the crowd of onlookers around us, pushing them aside like they held no resistance to her get away.

Running was a good idea.
For her.

After all, I’d rather finish this out of prying eyes, and before the police sirens caught up to us.

Still, I bolted after her, through the bedazzled onlookers who jumped aside, making way for me to get through their human road block.

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