[#] Just a headsup, Ko-fi subscribers have access to 5 chapters ahead, plans start at 1 buck.
[#] I was nice seeing people interested in the food, if there is an authentic Brazilian steakhouse in your city I recommend visiting it.
COMMENTS:
Taquitofanfics[wattpad]:
Marcus va a estar muy emocionado por enfrentarse al dragón de hielo ;3
Hablando de comida, como que ya se antojo una carnita asada
Avip:
When I'm at the barbecue I do what my father taught me, very basic seasoning, if I'm feeling lazy I'll just use coarse salt. Everything is prepared over a wood charcoal fire.
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[Marcus Carvalho]
As soon as I saw Carlie and Edith sitting at a table, I didn't think twice and grabbed a bit of everything I'd prepared for them to try.
Getting closer, I noticed there was an Anthro poodle with them. I think her name is Colette, the neighbor next to Edith's house… kind of a 'perua'.
POF!
The sound of the plate hitting the table made Edith jump a little.
As I place the last dishes on the table, the smell of roasted meat permeates the air. Carlie was sitting with her face red, avoiding my gaze. Edith stared at me, confused, and Colette looked frustrated, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Marcus, my dear..." Colette began, her syrupy voice soaked in a condescending tone. "Men shouldn't butt in when Anthros are talking. It's a matter of good manners, you know?" She says adjusting her white hair, her eyes gleaming with forced superiority.
'Is this bitche for real?' I question mentally in shock
"Men are to be seen, not heard," she says with a hand covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "That should be obvious even to those from third-world countries."
I'm stunned by Colette's 'mean-girl' indirect comment.
Still in shock, I opened my mouth to respond but shut it without saying anything, a reaction that made the Anthro give me an arrogant smile.
"It's okay, dear, men do have a harder time grasping nuances," commented the canine Anthro with a smile. "So I imagine Latinos must have even more trouble with simple everyday things."
…
Colette's string of comments caught the attention of the nearby tables, some pretending to sip their drinks in silence while eavesdropping on our conversation.
To the surprise of everyone listening in, I reacted with a polite smile that made Colette shrink a little in her seat, clearly unsettled by my unexpected reaction.
"What did you say, you-." Edith tries to intervene, but I cut her off with a soft kiss on the forehead.
"Let daddy handle it," I whisper before turning to my target.
The poodle stared at me, suspicious, but still certain that I wouldn't be able to 'rattle' her.
"Oops, my bad," I said, looking at the ground apologetically. "I should know how important this sort of thing is for 'older' Anthros."
My voice came out extra sharp on the part where I mentioned her age, so she'd have no doubt I was playing her own game.
"It was really tactless of me. I'm not a dumb child anymore and should know it's easy to bruise the ego of lonely old people. Sorry, sweetie."
As soon as I finished speaking, I noticed a strange silence. I looked around and realized everyone at the barbecue was jaw-dropped, having heard what I just said.
The silence was so thick you could hear the sizzle of the meat on the grill. Carlie, who had been red-faced, was now pale as a ghost, her eyes wide. Edith stared at me, mouth slightly open, not knowing what to say.
Colette, on the other hand, had her face twisted in a mix of shock and fury.
The guests around us, who had been pretending not to pay attention, were now openly staring, some with sly smiles, others with pure astonishment.
"Well, I never-." Colette began, but I cut her off.
"Never talked to a man?" I asked, feigning surprise. "This is quite obvious and I think everyone noticed that, sweetie."
The white-furred Anthro stood up, huffing furiously.
"Good day," the poodle muttered, quickly storming off toward her house.
Unable to resist, I shouted one last insult.
"Don't want to take some food with you?" I asked, faking concern. "Elderly women who live alone usually don't know how to cook."
As soon as Colette vanished inside her house, the yard exploded. Clapping and laughter echoed through the air, celebrating the destruction of the Anthro poodle's ego.
The guests, who had been tense before, are now relaxed, some even raising their beers in a silent toast. Carlie, who had been pale, now laughed softly, her face flushed again.
But Edith's expression was a cold shower. The bunny stared at me, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and frustration, and quickly pulled me aside, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of anger and disappointment.
"Marcus Carvalho, what do you think you're doing?" Her voice was a whisper, but it cut like a knife.
"Heh-heh, I admit I got carried away," I tried to explain with an awkward smile. "I went shopping with Carlie, ended up getting way too much stuff, you know... then I started cooking on your barbecue and the smell of the meat drew the neighbors and... I kind of invited everyone in your neighborhood."
Edith crosses her arms, her expression serious.
"You can't just throw a party at my house without telling me, Marcus," she said, her voice firm.
"I know, I know," I agree, knowing my fault. "Sorry, Edith. I did it without thinking."
Edith sighed, tired, massaging her forehead. The frustration was clear in every line of her face.
"Why did you pick a fight with Colette?" she asked, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "She's the head of the homeowners association."
"And that is bad, why?" I ask genuinely confused with her worry.
The bunny sighs tiredly, but tries to explain the situation.
"She can make our lives a living hell!" the bunny exclaims, worried. "She's probably going to force me to move."
In response, I grab her by shoulders, my eyes locked on hers. The bunny stares at me, her expression serious, but there was a glint of concern in her eyes.
"Edith, do you want me to solve the problem with Colette?" I ask in a low tone, laced with a veiled threat.
Edith blinks, surprised by the sudden shift in my tone.
"What do you mean, Marcus?" she asked, her voice hesitant.
"We'll never have to worry about her again," I said, my voice firm. "I can make her body disappear on the other side of the world. No one will find it, no one will know."
Edith's eyes widened, the shock evident on her face.
"Marcus, you can't just-." she whispered, her voice trembling.
"If that's too much, I can wipe her mind," I continued, my voice low. "I can make her forget what happened today, or even forget who she is so I can reprogram her personality."
Edith stares at me, horror written all over her face.
"Marcus, you can't... you can't do that," she whispers, her voice shaking. "That's... that's too much."
I see the fear on Edith's face, her eyes wide, her breathing quickened.
'Shit, I went too far,' I thought, frustrated.
"Sorry, Edith," I say, softening my voice, trying to calm her down. "I didn't mean to scare you."
The bunny looks at me, fear still in her eyes, but there was something else. A vulnerability that made me want to protect her, take care of her.
"I just... I just wanted to do something nice for you," I continue, voice low. "This barbecue, all of this, started with the intention of apologising to you and me waiting to eat. I know I've been an idiot, that I've been messing everything up picing fights with Anthros on the street and rings, winning a mafia princess as a prize. But I wanted to show you that I... that I do care about you."
Edith blinks, surprised by my confession. Her eyes, once brimming with fear, now shine with a different emotion. Happiness? Relief? I can't quite tell, but it's a look that makes me want to hold her, to feel the warmth of her body against mine.
"Marcus..." she whispers, voice trembling. "You don't have to... you don't have to do all this to apologize."
"I know," I say, smiling. "But I did it anyway."
We stare at each other for a few seconds in comfortable silence, feeling as if an invisible weight had been lifted from our shoulders.
"Is the bunny not going to kiss him?" asks a childish voice, catching our attention.
Even though Edith had pulled us aside to have a conversation, we were still in view of the invited guests, whispers and soft chuckles reaching my ears.
Personally I don't care about the exposition. Edith, on the other hand, turns as red as a tomato, eyes wide in embarrassment. She tries to hide behind me, but I pull her back in front.
"Marcus, everyone's looking," she whispers, voice trembling.
"Let them look," I reply, pulling her closer. "I don't care about them, only you."
Edith widens her eyes, surprised by my response. But before she can say anything, I pull her toward the table where Carlie is, sit down, and bring her onto my lap.
"Yip." Whinnies the bunny in surprise.
The whispers grow louder, some guests don't even try to hide their mischievous smiles. Edith shrinks, hiding her face in my chest, but I hold her firmly, not letting her pull away.
"Marcus, what are you doing?" she whispers, her voice heavy with embarrassment.
"Relax, Edith," I say softly. "They're just jealous."
Edith blinks, surprised.
"Jealous?" she asks, voice hesitant.
Instead of answering, I pick up a piece of garlic bread from the plate and place it in her mouth.
Edith widens her eyes, surprised by my gesture, but her expression quickly shifts, her eyes lighting up as she can't resist the smell of the food and takes a bite.
I hold my breath as I watch Edith take that first bite of garlic bread.
Her eyes spark as her pupils dilate in surprise. Her whole body shudders, a subtle tremble that starts in her shoulders and travels down to her toes.
She closes her eyes, savoring the moment, and a low sound, almost a purr, escapes her lips.
"Hmmmmmm…" she moans, stretching out her legs.
It's the cutest thing I've ever seen.
"Marcus... this... this is..." she mumbles, eyes shining with emotion.
I feel an immense sense of relief. Grilling meat is easy, but vegetarian food? That's uncharted territory for me.
"You really liked it?" I ask, my voice heavy with anxiety.
Edith opens her eyes, the glow in them melting me.
"Did I like it? Marcus, this is..." she pauses, searching for the right words. "Oooooh."
Her body still trembles, but now it's a tremble of excitement, of pure happiness. She takes another bite, eyes closing again, that low purr echoing in the air.
It's a sight that makes me want to hold her, feel her warmth against me, hear her heartbeat matching mine.
But instead, I just watch her, a silly smile on my face.
"I'm glad you liked it," I say smiling.
Edith opens her eyes, that glow still there. I watch in silence, satisfied. Carlie, who'd been quiet until now, comes closer, her eyes shining with curiosity.
"Can I try that?" she asks softly.
Edith opens her eyes, a wide smile on her face.
"Of course, Carlie," she replies, extending the bread to the tigress.
Carlie takes the bread, eyes fixed on Edith, and takes a bite.
Her body trembles, a subtle shake that starts in her shoulders and travels down to her toes.
I feel immense relief seeing Edith and Carlie's reactions to the garlic bread. Cooking meat is easy for me, but vegetarian food? That's not my forte. I made garlic bread, grilled coalho cheese, roasted carrots, and other things, all hoping they would enjoy it.
"I'm really glad you liked it," I say softly, watching the two of them savor each bite. "I know you don't eat a lot of meat, but I don't feel confident with vegetarian food. Still, I wanted to do something special for you two."
"You remembered?" Edith asks with tears of joy in her eyes.
"Of course I did, Edith."
[Carlie]
From the corner of the table, I watch in silence. Edith is still sitting on Marcus's lap, her eyes glowing as she devours a grilled carrot. Marcus, with a wide smile, cuts another piece and offers it to her, and she accepts without hesitation.
"More?" Marcus asks, voice gentle, affectionate.
Edith nods, her mouth full, eyes fixed on him.
"It's all so good," responds the bunny, making the human laugh proudly.
The scene is so... intimate and warm.
NeSo different from what I'm used to at my family home, everything's always been cold and formal.
'What if it were me in her place?' I ask myself silently. 'Could I be cared the same way she is?'
The thought makes a pit form in my stomach, followed by a painful question.
'Do I even deserve to be loved?'
My chest tightens, a lump forms in my throat.
I look away as I can't bear to watch that scene any longer.
I stand up, legs trembling.
'I need to get out of here, I need to breathe.'
I walk quickly out of the backyard, toward the sidewalk.
A cool breeze touches my face, but it doesn't ease this weird feeling in my chest. I press my hands against my knees and squeeze hard, my nails digging into my flesh, relieving the pain in some twisted way.
"Why?" I whisper to the night, my voice choking. "Why am I feeling like this?"
Tears stream down my face, hot and bitter.
"I'm a fighter, a warrior, but now... now I'm just an embarrassment," I murmur melancholically, feeling lost.
In the midst of this storm of bad feelings, Something dreadful in my mind escapes my lips in a whisper:
"My mother is right."
Despair takes over me, a dark wave pulling me down. I want to scream, I want to punch something, I want... I want to just disappear. My hands tremble, my whole body trembles.
I try to stand up, but the world spins, the streetlights blur into a colorful smear. I gasp, the air doesn't reach my lungs, my throat tightens. I reach out, searching for support, anything to keep me from collapsing.
My fingers find a cold, metallic surface beneath them. I take a deep breath, trying to regain control. Slowly, the world stops spinning, the streetlights come back into focus.
"What is this?" I murmur looking at what I had leaned on a mailbox.
A mailbox with a name beside it written in a font far too elaborate for such an object.
"Colette Dubois," I murmur, reading the mailbox.
The name is printed in golden letters on the side of the box.
Just seeing that name, Dubois, makes my blood boil. Anger begins to replace my sadness. I know it's not healthy, but at least with anger, I don't freeze up or feel pathetic.
Tears dry on my face, the rage begins to rise, but it also gives me focus.
I close my eyes, and my mind returns to the moment that insufferable poodle appeared. Her fake smile full of chemically whitened teeth spewed veiled insults disguised as condescending compliments aimed at Miss Edith.
"Colette..." I growl through clenched teeth, the sound guttural, primal.
At the first time seeing her, Marcus had noticed that the Poodle Anthro wasn't a genuine person, but the chance for more people to try his food made him laugh with excitement.
"And how did that wretch repay his kindness?" I snarled, furious. "She insulted the lady of the house who welcomed me and Marcus, insulted the human whose only mistake was being kind to that damn woman!" I exclaimed, raising my leg, ready to bring it down on the mailbox.
A childish act, but one I deeply want to do.
"STOP!" A voice shouts, distracting me.
I missed the mailbox by mere millimeters, scraping its side and making it rattle. Furious, I turned to the other side of the street, toward the voice. I wanted to scream and release all the fury and anguish boiling inside me, but…
The words died in my throat, along with my rage, doused like cold water when I saw it was an elderly man sitting on the porch of a house across the street. He had an eyepatch and a face marked by cuts and puncture scars.
Curious, I crossed the street and noticed that even with his left hand being a prosthetic, he was knitting a purple scarf, manipulating the needles with precision.
The old man raises his gaze, a gentle smile on his scarred face.
"It's not wise to damage someone else's property, young lady," he said, his voice calm and aged.
"But... but she... that Colette... she..." I tried to explain, the words stumbling out, confused.
The man shook his head, the smile never faltering.
"I know very well who Colette Dubois is," he said, sighing tiredly. "But I also know that you are not the owner of that house." The man continues, pointing toward Edith's home. "Before doing something foolish, young lady, think about those who'll be most affected."
I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure.
"Sorry, sir. It's just... she makes me so... angry."
He let out a loud laugh, made rough by his voice.
"Colette has that effect on people," said the man, setting his knitting aside and picking up a cigarette. "Do you smoke?" The old man offered.
Carlie shook her head no.
"Good on you, my girl," he said, taking a drag from the freshly lit cigarette. "I survived an abusive relationship with an Anthro, but these things here will be what kills me."
"Abusive relationship?" I repeated, curious.
The old man took the cigarette from his mouth with the prosthetic and pointed at his own face, the deep, striking scars, then to his missing arm.
"All of this came from my late wife," he said, his voice laden with an old pain, though his eyes remained steady, unblinking.
"I'm sorry," I said instinctively.
"Don't worry," said the man in a bitter tone. "It was a long time ago."
"How... how could you have endured that?" I asked, my voice trembling. "How can someone be so... cruel?"
The man took another drag, his eyes lost in distant memories.
"In my time, the laws weren't so kind to humans," he explained, his voice heavy with bitter resignation. "Nor so harsh on Anthros. The idea that humans could be more than just partners to Anthros is maybe fifteen years old, if I'm not mistaken."
"But... but that's... horrible," I murmured, my stomach turning with a morbid curiosity. "How did you not-!" I didn't dare finish the question.
But he gave me a pained smile, as if he understood what I meant. The old man took another drag, the ember glowing in the night. He exhaled slowly, his eyes still lost in those faraway memories.
"My wife, she was a veteran of the army," he began, his voice steeped in bitter resignation. "She fought in many battles, saw things that... well, things no one should ever see."
He paused, the prosthetic fingers gripping the cigarette with unnecessary force.
"When she returned to civilian life, she couldn't adapt. Everything made her anxious, the tiniest thing would set her off."
The old man's eyes met mine, and I saw a deep pain, a wound that never truly healed.
"And she took most of it out on me," he said, his voice steady, but his eyes glistening. "I was her punching bag, the target of all her frustration and anger."
I swallowed hard, finally finding the courage to ask the question I had avoided before.
"How did you not… end it all?" I asked, unable to look him in the eyes.
The old man gave a nostalgic, proud smile.
"I found a purpose," said the human, looking at me. "Someone needed me, and if I hadn't been there-."
He cut the story short when footsteps echoed behind me.
I turned and saw it was Talia, the Honey Badger I had met at the barbecue. She was carrying a small plastic container.
"Carlie? What are you doing out here?" Asks Talia, her voice firm, but kind.
"I... I just needed some air," I reply, my voice trembling. "And I came to talk to this gentleman…" I fall silent as I realize I don't know his name.
"John Connor," says the elderly man, holding back a chuckle.
Talia lets out a mocking laugh, her eyes gleaming with genuine amusement.
"It's all right, Carlie," she says, her voice filled with warm humor. "My dad loves to talk and distract people."
I look at John, who just shrugs as the Honey Badger approaches the man in the chair and hands John a small container with her right hand, planting a kiss on his forehead.
"Do you want me to get you a fork, sir?" Asks the Anthro, smiling at her father.
"Ha!" The man laughs in a dry tone. "My left hand is a fork."
Proving his point, John pierces a piece of meat with the pointed part of one of the pincers on his prosthetic.
Talia laughs as if she expected her father's response.
"Just remember to clean it before sleep or you will have ants on your bed again." She says opening the front door. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to work tomorrow."
As soon as Talia closes the door and enters the house, John speaks again.
"Her life wasn't easy," he says in a serious tone. "But even so, I'm proud of the woman she's become and the granddaughter she gave me."
I give the man a tired smile in response. The conversation with John had certainly calmed me, but I'm still confused.
As if sensing my worries, John speaks.
"Take it from me, girl, it's not worth it picking a fight with Colette, no matter how good your reason might be," says the man, making my ears droop sadly. "But if you're going to do something stupid… I suggest you don't let it spill over onto those you care about."
"Don't let it spill over…" I mutter thinking of the possibilities.
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