#bowlofpeaches

[waveofstars]

@bowlofpeaches | chey & eli

Was it possible she had finally met someone who managed to be as stubborn as she was? She knew he was right - this was something she likely couldn’t do on her own. Lord only knew what was between them and Seattle. Chey was strong, a fighter till the end, but even if she couldn’t take on a whole group of soldiers alone. 

It was easier when she was alone, though. Back before Eli came into her life, she had nothing to worry about, nothing to be scared of. Now she was terrified. If he died while trying to help her, she’d surely never forgive herself just like she couldn’t forgive herself for her brother’s death. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she knew she’d lose the final shred of herself if she lost him. 

But as the woman stared at him, she knew there was no convincing him. He wouldn’t waiver. Again, too much like herself. She lowered her head for a moment and cursed under her breath. Adjusting the strap of her backpack on her shoulder, she looked back up at him again. “This isn’t your fight,” she tried to reason and sighed. “But… I’d appreciate the manpower.” It was hard for her to say things like that these days - thank you. “I, uh, mapped out the route already. I was going to steal a horse. You can help me with that.”

[invsiblestringswrites]

As they ventured out to the chicken coop, Claire had to notice that the smell of was that poop? replaced the distinctly different yet nonetheless off scent that clung to Ford's house. Though she'd never be so disrespectful as to say such a thing to a stranger, and a hospitable one at that. Still, just being outside seemed to improve things a bit, make her feel a little more alive, breathe a little deeper.

She took the proffered basket and squatted down with an aww as the little baby chicks trotted their way out. There weren't any baby chicks in downtown New Orleans, she could promise you that. "Hi there mama," she cooed at the hen, holding her hand out in welcome. "You're quite beautiful in your own way, Henrietta," she complimented. "And you have beautiful babies."

"How do you keep them all safe at night?" she asked, drawing her attention back to Ford as she turned to look up at him. And it was a long way up. "I hear there's... sometimes danger. Around these parts." If her coven were to be believed, the vampires out in the backwaters actually drank animal blood. By choice. Like heathens. "Do you ever have any problems with your animals?" If there really was a threat to heed, she'd rather know about it. Now, what she could realistically do was a different story. Without her coven, she was nothing more than a human with perfect eyesight and an aversion to hickeys. 

If Soleil was awake (you couldn't get that girl up for anything; if a lifetime as their species was so devolved that it meant sleeping in a coffin forever and nothing else, she'd be just dandy), Ford would no doubt exchange a look with her at the notion that the blonde needed to change. He wasn't thinking of much when he invited her to visit the coop with him. At the very most, she was going to hang around outside the fence while he did the work, and there really wasn't much work behind collecting a few eggs and checking their quality. He supposed now he at least had the opportunity to do more with her if she pleased.

Once he heard her footsteps down the stairs, and subsequently saw her in her outfit, he gave a nod of approval. Something about the clothes she was wearing still screamed rich, especially those boots—which looked as if they were meant to get dirty but hardly had a nick on them—but they would do. And he couldn't help but notice her Raggedy Ann braids. His lips curved in a bit of a smile at the sight of her. Peculiar, and yet, charming.

-

Outside, Ford opened up the fence to the chicken coop and gestured for the blonde to step in first. He gave her the basket, figuring that was an easy job to do, and maybe gave her a sense of ownership in a world she was likely unfamiliar with. "They're relatively friendly," he told her, leading the way to the coop, having donned a pair of boots of his own, "but I wouldn't get too close to their beaks. I'd let'em come to you."

As he spoke, a trio of baby chicks who were following each other around the coop approached her. Momma was right behind them. "That's Henrietta," he said. Soleil chose the silly name. "She just had those chicks a month or so ago. They's... They are friendly."

[mutatedangels-a]

below the cut you'll find the threads i was able to track from my old blog! if our thread's not on this list, please know that i still want to write with you - i'd just rather start fresh or wanna continue but forgot. on the flipside, if our thread is on this list, i'd like to continue it if i owe you (or at least, the pairing!) - but you're welcome to drop it if you'd like!

either way, there's never any rush from me for you to respond, and also don't feel obliged to write with me right now! we can always pick something up another time. if you do notice our thread's missing from this list and you'd like to continue writing together, just message me!

@carp3diems - nancy x sawyer, the wild bunch

@blndsided - jeremiah x angel, palmer x luna, soleil x sid, eli x abigail (bowlofpeaches)

@wynterlanding - una x landon

@invsiblestrings - ford x claire, nate x beckett

@packagecfgirlyevil - jody x brinley, soap x stella, charlotte x kirk

@waveofstars - julian x chey, lizzie x connor, peyton x renee, eli x lennon, una x ophelia

@blindspct - una x dante, ford x greta

@wintcrstcrfall - soap x marcella, johanna x eli

@hungryyheart - lizzie x conrad (bowlofpeaches)

@andurmine - eli x nadia, perry x grey

@mysteryoflovc - sid x jody, mekhi x ben

@ruinedtendencies - astrid x jamie

@evcrlasting - chris x gabe, beacon x aisha

@rxnatx - daisy x eli, lorenzo x soleil

@daisyxmuses - jesse x billie

@spideysmuses - felicity x felix, beckett x maxine

@incalescentia - twyla x ??, peridot x noah

@saccharinesomethings - emily x ??

@princessbxtch-rps - soleil x noelle, shane x monroe (bowlofpeaches)

i thiiink that's everyone i have an active thread with?? phew!

[lemmeknowimreal]

okay i might make a mains list tonight/this week to balance the stress of returning to work so like this if you maybe wanna be on that mains list?? uwu. and this goes for anything/anybody on @bowlofpeaches as well!!

and a lil thank you to ash / @wynterlanding for having a cool ass one and giving me the idea to start one of my own!!

[princessbxtch-rps]

@bowlofpeaches

It had been 30 minutes and about 100 knocks, but Noelle was determined. Come hell or high water, Soleil would be opening that door, and the blonde would finally figure out what the hell had happened with her best friend. It had been weeks of unanswered texts and Facetimes. On the rare occasion she was able to reach her, she was dodgy, acting like she might run out the door at the wrong question. It all had accumulated into Soleil missing her 25th birthday, and she was done pretending this was normal behavior. What had happened to the girl who had been by her side for years? The person she had shared everything with, from bad dates to insecure thoughts to goofy banter. She had been patient enough, and now was the time for answers.

"You can ignore me all you want, but I'm not leaving until we talk about this! You can't just miss my quarter-of-a-century birthday and think I wouldn't notice." She exclaimed at the tiny peephole in the door, hopeful that Soleil was on the other side of the door. "Eventually, you'll have to come out, and I'll be here. You're...you're my best friend, Soleil. I just want to know what's going on with you."

[princessbxtch-rps]

@bowlofpeaches

ONE TREE HILL (2003-2012)

[bowlofpeaches]

- ̗̀ bowlofpeaches ̖́-

an indie rp blog by ana, 25, she/her, cst! — featuring supernatural, sci-fi, and generally macabre themes. sideblog only, doesn't follow back. the cooler older sister of my main rp blog. lower activity.

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[callmewhenyougetthis-a]

i made it!!!! @bowlofpeaches @bowlofpeaches @bowlofpeaches

methinks i'm going to make a sideblog for supernatural ocs/aus because i've been watching hella true blood and reconnecting with my vampire/werewolf-obsessed 13 year old self?? and want to have a special spot for her & for that writing away from my slice of life/mostly real-life based writing on this blog. like/reply if u want the url when/if i end up making it??

[princessbxtch-rps]

Monroe wasn't positive the last time she truly laughed, but seeing grumpy old Shane Walsh blow a raspberry at her had the women roaring. "Not at all, I'm very impressed!" She jested, holding her hands up in surrender. It felt good, for the tension between them to be melting. For safety and survival to not be the only things on their minds.

More changed and evolved, Shane beginning to share about his past. Hearing about his family warmed her, particularly seeing the slight sparkle in his eye at the memory. She was about to comment when he gave her a look to be quiet, plunging the bucket into the water. It emerged with a pretty huge frog that continued to try to jump out. Monroe approached, hiking up her pants a bit so she could get close enough to peer into the bucket. "Color me impressed. Killing walkers, teaching me to use a gun, and catching frogs. Is there anything you can't do, Shane?"

The blonde stayed at his side, eyes focused on the bucket. "Did you go camping a lot as a kid? I went a few times with my Dad and brothers, but it was more finding clams in the sand and lounging at the beach while they all fucked around."

Shane only broke his concentration to blow a raspberry up at the blonde who'd been a few feet from him. “You tryna make fun of my swamp boy upbringing?” he asked in jest. It was perhaps the first time the two of them kidded around with each other. It reminded him of what things were like before it got bad with the original group; he was gallivanting around with Carl and Lori just as much as doing all the serious stuff. There was protection, but also a sense of family, and that anchored him the most. Ever since he lost that, he'd lost himself.

Something as simple as frog-fishing brought him back to those memories. Made him feel like he was good for something other than rage again.

Maybe Monroe wasn't the exact person he saw himself doing this with, but he had to make do with the cards he was dealt. The two didn't have to be best friends to get along enough to survive, and that was what mattered. The rest of it was a luxury of the past.

"We didn't have it all the time but when we went camping, we did hick stuff like that, yeah, eat frogs," he shared. "My mom hated it 'cause my pops would make us do it like we didn't have a choice, yeah. Even though we always brought so much food whenever we camped."

Shh.

He gave the girl a look, wordlessly telling her he had his eyes on a particular frog. Hands firm on the rusty bucket he'd found, he waited another second before plunging it into the water, catching the hopping creature in one fell swoop. "Ha! Got you, you little shit."

[princessbxtch-rps]

It wasn't hard to pick up on the mood instantly changing, the way her laugh didn't sound all that genuine. It was like the air between them had thickened with tension, and Noelle sat up a bit straighter. Was it something she had said? Her and Soleil had always spoken of boys, from the ones they liked to the ones that fell over backwards for a chance with them. It has always been another way of them bonding, a shared dialogue. But it appeared this would become yet another thing in their Do Not Discuss column.

"I'm not saying we belong together, Soleil. I'm just saying he was fun to make-out with. It's probably not going to go anywhere." Her tone was snappy, but she was feeling judged, like she should be wearing a bright red A on her chest. She hadn't envisioned a future with Dixon, but why was it so wrong if she was enjoying him chasing her?

Noelle placed her feet on the ground as her friend got up, concern etched on her features. She rested her elbows on her thighs, leaning forward. "What? I don't hear anything." She stammered, her eyebrows knitting together. The only sound she could hear was the television, so was this another way of trying to get away from her? None of this was making any sense to her, and she wondered if this...odd behavior was why she had been MIA recently. Because she knew Noelle would instantly recognize it, and there was no ignoring what was going on right now.

"I'm sorry, but why the fuck are we suddenly back in the era of slut shaming? What is going on with you? Why are you treating me like this?"

Soleil's brain was overrun with thoughts. What, are you such a slut that you need every boy's attention in town? and Of course you had a drunken kiss with him, you two-cent ho! and Ugh, you're too good for any'a those boys. She was quite overstimulated by the news, her brows furrowing as she rode the emotions. Typically she would've maybe hit her with a pillow and even call her a slut, too, but she'd be lighter about it. Her mind, on the other hand, fully meant it.

It was coming from a part of her she never knew existed. Suddenly, she felt quite possessive over her best friend.

Fuck. She couldn't say any of it out loud for fear of starting another argument with the blonde beside her. She and Noelle just made up, and as much as their relationship was a roller coaster, its peaks and valleys weren't that quick.

Instead, she feigned happiness for the other, though it came out dripping in sarcasm. Even her laugh was mocking. "Heh heh heh. That's soooo friggin' funny, Noelle. You two belong together."

It was like learning the ebb and flow of PMS-ing all over again: Her emotions were ricocheting left and right. She stood up, thinking that maybe physically distancing herself from Noelle would calm her down. In the distance, out on the street, she heard the delivery driver park and step out of his car. She sniffed him too. Except, to a human set of ears, there was nothing but the background noise of the television.

"Sounds like our fried chicken man's downstairs. I'd better go get it," she said, heading to the door. "It was no biggie payin' for it, but maybe you can flash your tits at 'im instead of givin' 'im a tip."

[tragedienes]

i know as much as you do. ingrid grimaced. then he must be utterly clueless, as she could barely remember her own name at that point. she might as well have been alice in wonderland, only wonderland was a hunk of metal soaring past stars. “great.” ingrid spoke quietly, selfishly disappointed he didn't have all the answers. despite her sleepiness, she did notice how things were... off. the control room looked lived in, worked in, but empty of said life. as if the crew just suddenly disappeared, raptured off the deck. it was suspicious. her gaze crawled over the screen he nodded toward, seeing little map markers and status updates, but didn't understand much of it beyond the obvious.

four days?! ingrid’s eyes widened comically, following his gaze to the calendar on the wall—she found it in herself to wonder if time even mattered in space. it was all so beyond her. she hated to look at everything so bewildered, a newborn baby distracted by flashing colors. everything was all so technical, mechanical. she could probably name a few modules and panels if she had to, but she wouldn’t be able to describe their functions. her job was all paperwork and corporate lunches, gossip about coworkers and discussions about the ethics of exomoon mining. she was a company shill, not a space marine; that was why wy chose her apparently, that she was there because she was a thorough associate attorney that would undoubtedly go to the ends of the universe to prove that weyland-yutani were not using prisoners on a penal colony planet as test dummies.

still struck silent, she watched as he crossed to the kitchenette, then as he came back. he was so large that it seemed almost impossible that he could fit inside the ship, he made her feel incredibly small even though she was a woman of average height. ingrid accepted the water only because he seemed authoritative. she didn’t know a thing about him, but his ease around the complex parts of the ship and his general demeanor suggested this wasn’t his first time in space, that perhaps he had decades of experience with ships and living in a place that had artificial gravity. not like her. he seemed so at home among it all. she had never felt more uncomfortable in her life.

taking little sips like she did with the bites of nutrition bar, she hesitantly scooted a bit closer, then leaned against the control panel. just because she didn't understand what any of it meant didn't mean she didn't want to know. the water was a bit easier to handle, but she was careful not to overdo it. though she was inexperienced, she did read all the material wy gave her about interstellar travel, including procedures after waking up from stasis. "that's... strange?" she reacted to the news that they two were the only ones on board when he awoke. again, she didn't know much about life aboard a transport ship, but she had to imagine most of the crew were kept in stasis for a portion of the trip—so many things ran automatically nowadays, it almost seemed like they kept ship crews onboard as a formality, perhaps just as a backup. (people back on earth always joked about it, get paid to sleep!, though that might've been jealousy talking.) even if everyone else was awake to take care of the ship, he should've been able to get into contact with someone, right? after four whole days?

"okay. just... don't leave without me, please." with that, ingrid set the glass on a nearby desk, then turned towards the other room. when she was sure he couldn't see her, ingrid moved to her abandoned cryobed and sat down. closing her eyes, she tried to breathe evenly, clear her mind. this was happening. this was a weird, fucked up situation, and now she had to deal with it. after a long moment of catching up to herself, ingrid snapped open her eyes and suddenly pushed off the bed again. hurriedly, she searched the room for any of her personal effects. she didn't find many of her own things, though found stuff she figured belonged to the crew. changing into a pair of pants that roughly fit her, she kept the slouchy shirt she slept in, then found a pair of uniform boots that were standard issue in ships. after about twenty minutes, ingrid felt it was time to move on. how badly she wanted to crawl back into her cryobed!

entering the control room again, ingrid redid her ponytail that came loose from sleep. momentarily, she feared he had gone back on his word, but quickly her sight fell upon him. "i'm ready... i think." she looked around the room once again, sight then falling upon the discarded jacket on the back of a chair. "wait!" ingrid grabbed it, then slipped it over her shoulders. the back of it had the weyland-yutani logo embossed on it. strangely, it felt equal parts comforting and revolting. ingrid put the half-eaten nutrition bar in the pocket of the jacket, just in case. "now i'm ready. you're, uh, the one that's supposed to be... with me, right?" it was probably obvious, but she wanted confirmation anyways. it would make her feel better if he was paid to protect her, at least. she had to hope that would mean he wouldn't leave her to her own devices. "i'm ingrid, if you didn't know. i suppose i should introduce myself formally, y'know, if we're going... out." she realized that sounded like a double entendre, but hoped he didn't.

Her expression while downing the nutrition bar almost made him laugh. Not in an amused fashion, either—in a way meant to ridicule her. Civilians were not used to the way soldiers ate. He downed worse than the CHOCOLATE CARBOHYDRATE BAR she had in her hand. When it was just him and the Reaper Squad in the desert all those eons ago, the In fact, the one he'd had when he woke up—the LEMON CARBOHYDRATE BAR—was even chalkier and more brittle. He saved her the good flavor, pulled out a bit of kindness for this one.

Soap had no answers for her. "I know as much as you do." Which wasn't much. He nodded toward the screen, showing that while their particular quadrant of the airship was stable, the rest of the quadrants—three out of the four—were unresponsive. The modules that would have the other quadrants' information were greyed out. At least the module for their particular quadrant told him oxygen levels were steady, the exterior doors leading to the other quadrants were locked as they should be. Power was stable. They had been that way ever since he woke up; things were peaceful, but the missing information was a story untold.

Glancing at the calendar, Soap continued, "I've been awake for the last four days." He headed toward the tiny kitchenette in the room, pouring her a glass of water from the faucet. Heavy boots orchestrated his walk toward her, and he only then realized the difference in their sizes as he handed her the glass. "Drink something. It'll keep the food down."

Now, back to the screen. He stood in front of it, palms resting against the edge of the control panel. "There were 18 other people in our quadrant. I woke up in the cot bay," he said, tracing his finger on the map of their quadrant from the control room to the aforementioned room, "with the rest of the other cryobeds. Next to yours. Except, all the other beds were empty." He delivered his words plainly; as if it were another day on the job. A stark contrast to the anxiety that was practically reverberating off her. It was a peculiar situation, but by no means a dire one. Not quite yet.

Even if the other cryobeds were in the state they were. Those details were left out on purpose, and he hoped she was too groggy from deep slumber to notice. There was no use in sending her to a panic with incomplete details, unsolved problems. True to his name, his job was to keep things squeaky clean by any means necessary.

"I moved you into the deputy pilot's area, where we are." He tapped on one of the larger spaces in the quadrant map. These ships had three pilots: the chief pilot, whose office was somewhere in the middle and very front, his name obvious to his role. Then, the right and left hangars of the ship each had deputy pilots. The thing was, there was no one left on this side of the ship when Soap woke up.

He stood up straight and turned to face the woman, exhaling. "I was going to leave our quadrant and see if there were others, but I didn't want to leave you alone." An uncharacteristically considerate thing for him to do, but he was tasked with looking after her, after all. "In fact, I thought you were dead. I'll let you settle for an hour then we're moving out."

[princessbxtch-rps]

Noelle splayed out in the chair next to Soleil, white-lined sunglasses shading her eyes from the sun and skin glistening with tanning oil. Her chair was reclined, eyes closed as she allowed the heat to soak into her bones. She didn't turn her head as the brunette began to complain, even though she wanted to semi-chide her for thinking she would get a better grade. Hadn't she written the paper the night before it was due? She kept her little comments to herself, though. The two had made up, back to being closer than sisters.

For the most part. There was still a voice in the back of her head, chiming in every time something peculiar happened. The mental list of evidence she created was nearly the size of a CVS receipt: from her sudden outbursts at the mention of any boy, to the frequent absences that still went largely unaddressed. Soleil had become clouded in mystery, and Noelle wondered if she'd ever be able to see in the haze.

The blonde was pulled from her thoughts at the question, fingertips pulling down her sunglasses to the tip of her nose so she could peer over at her friend. "A 93. And please don't bite my head off or make some offhand comment about his crush on me again. I happened to read the book and see the movie." She placed her glasses back, turning towards the pool. She had deserved that grade for her essay on Misery and society's tendency to label women crazy. Why did we always have to be the villians?

"Don't let it get to you. One bad grade will not ruin your future. Plus, we still have a full 120 hours left of spring break. Who knows what trouble we can get into."

@princessbxtch-rps // soleil x noelle

"A friggin' 65? In Mr. Duvall's class?"

Soleil scoffed, using her hand over her phone as an umbrella to protect her screen from the sun. She double checked to see if her grade was correct after all and nearly crushed her phone in her hand once she'd gotten confirmation. Her English professor's notes on her essay on The Shining by Stephen King wrote: Missed the point of the novel completely.

"What the hell does he mean, I 'missed the point'?" She shook her head and set her phone face down on the towel underneath her. "All work and no play makes Soleil a dull girl." See, if she could quote it, didn't that mean she read the book? Or... at least, watched the movie. What gives, she'd been busy doing vampire stuff!

The two were in their made-up era, a couple of weeks removed from the so-dubbed Birthday Incident. Soleil had done her best to balance more time with her best friend in her busy schedule of eating boys, honing her skills. For the most part, save for a few slip-ups where she showcased more of her intense jealousy (like storming off whenever the topic switched to Dixon or another boy that gave Noelle attention) than she wanted to or took longer bathroom breaks to have a snack (like, um, that dining hall boy's ear chunk she found in the pocket of the jacket she wore when she ate him), they were getting along swimmingly.

And it was spring break. A pool day like the one they were having was long overdue, and Soleil was in bliss basking in the sun. Except, that gaggle of boys in the corner of the pool, roughhousing and cackling amongst themselves were sort of getting on her nerves...

A pout defined her features as she looked over at Noelle, who likely got the better grade. Mr. Duvall always seemed to like her better.

"What'd he give you?"

[princessbxtch-rps]

"It would be pretty entertaining to hear you yell 'Breathe!' while taking down a walker. But I guess you're right." Shane hadn't really seemed to make a joke since Rick got to the camp, but Monroe had missed seeing him smile. The thought caught her completely off guard. They had been friendly but indifferent to each other before Rick got to camp, and after things had gotten much more antagonistic. While the last few days had been quiet, she had started to feel safer with him, a small connection in the name of their survival.

The blonde shook out her limbs, rolling her head back as she tried to ease away the tension. "I never thought I could, you know. I never thought I'd even try shooting a gun. I had always hated when my dad went out in the backyard and fired off round after round. It felt like this kind of power...it wasn't meant to be in my hands." It was probably the most she had spoken to him since her big speech, and it was a piece of herself she hadn't shared in so long. Whenever people mentioned her family, she was quick to change the subject or give the vaguest of answers. So why did she feel like sharing with him now?

She nodded her head at his advice and raised the gun again, this time keeping her body more relaxed and natural. She kept her eyes on the beans, so long that she began to lose sight of the gun in her hand. Slowly, she moved her finger to the trigger and pulled. It dinged off the rock again, but much closer this time. Without another moment she breathed out and shot, and this time it knocked the can clean off. She smiled up at him, pride swelling in her.

The best teachers never made fun of their students, and Shane, while not the best teacher or even the best person lately, considered himself enough of a good human to spare her from ridicule. It would've been different with Rick. Hell, that man played like he was the leader of the pack the moment he entered camp, but if only Shane could humble him and remind him the person who taught him to shoot in the first place. Scrawny motherfucker could hardly handle the recoil of the pistol whenever he shot it.

He shook his head at Monroe's words, walking over to the items and fixing them again, the impact of the bullet having hit the rock shifting them ever so slightly. "No point in it, 'cause when we're out there trying to get away from a horde of walkers or whatever else is comin' after us, I'm not gonna be in your brain yellin' at you 'bout all the things you did wrong." Before he head back to the blonde, he set his shotgun down near their equipment. Then, he stood behind her, adjusting her posture again; this time, he was a bit more firm with his edits, if only for her to see the difference between how he wanted her and how she'd been doing it.

"You can do this, alright? Just focus. And breathe. Held your breath last time. It ain't gonna help you to aim better if you're so stiff," Shane said. He gestured out toward the cans. "Try one more time and don't rush it. You'll get better with practice. A few more shots, c'mon." They had enough ammo to spare, having just left the farm with a sufficient amount. It helped that they didn't have to use any of it yet.

[princessbxtch-rps]

He spoke, after days of nothing but traveling. She hadn't tried to push any conversation with him, keenly aware of the damage the whole mess had done to him. She was familiar with pain, had been living in it for years. If silence is what Shane needed, she was more than happy to give it to him. But now he was speaking, noticing her horrible stance.

Green eyes darted to look up at him, narrowing slightly as he critiqued her. She wanted to be defensive, wanted to lash out and say she had been doing just fine. Except she was weak with a gun, and now that there were only the two of them, that mattered more than ever before. There was no leaning on the group if they got in a jam. The window for mistakes had gotten paper thin, and she would do everything in her power to survive. The blonde stood from her position, taking a few steps towards the taller man.

"Can you show me?" She asked, stopping in front of him. Another vulnerable moment, another time she tried opening up. She held the gun out to him, pointing the pistol at the ground. "I never used one before all of this, and I've kinda just been figuring it out as I go. Clearly, not very well." She gave the tiniest chuckle, a touch of a smile on her features.

Life with the two had been quiet since their reconciliation. They hadn't grown any closer—these days Shane was still reeling from Lori's rejection and Rick's undermining him, so he was guarded and hurt from that—but they were surviving, and that was more important than acting chummy with each other. Especially when both of them knew neither of them meant it. Maybe if they'd met in another life, back before it all went to shit, Shane could have bumped into her at the grocery store and made small talk about rising prices in fresh produce. Now, though, it was kill or be killed.

But, as aforementioned, it had been quiet. They hadn't seen a walker in days, since they were closer to the farm, and it brought him respite now that they were near the mountains again. The forest was still in proximity in case they needed to set out again, but the mountains provided a nice cover; as far as he knew, walkers couldn't climb such great heights.

Still, Shane spent a good amount of time circling the perimeter before settling in. It was a habit of his whenever they picked a spot to hunker down, no matter how short or long of a time they were going to spend there. Shotgun resting against his shoulder, he had been circling back in front of Monroe when he heard her huff in frustration. He lifted a brow, eyes darting to where she'd been shooting at. Trees?

"You're settin' yourself up for failure shootin' at nothin'," he told her. "That ain't the right way to do it." But he wouldn't meddle; he'd learned from teaching Carl a few things that his own father wouldn't, that meddling always turned out bad no matter how right he thought he was.

[princessbxtch-rps]

"I might scream, and you'll just have to accept it." She reiterated, the ghost of a smile still on her lips. Pre-Apocalypse Monroe hadn't necessarily been someone who enjoyed these types of activities, but she had always been one to try something new. From bungee jumping to glass blowing to roller derby, she had wanted to dabble in every experience she could try. To taste every offering the world had for her. Sometimes, this apocalypse felt like a big cosmic joke for her saying there was nothing she wouldn't try once. She certainly could've gone without this experience, full of violence and despair.

It felt nice, to find a moment of silliness, of pure fun, with Shane.

The blonde listened to his very simple instructions, eyes focused on the water below them. "My grumbling stomach is pressure enough." She kept her gaze lowered, the bucket tightly gripped in her head. She lunged for a frog once, splashing water all over her clothes and coming up with an empty bucket. She didn't wait for his response, moving a few feet away to avoid the new ripples in the water. One more scoop and the frog was in the bucket, as desperate to get out as the other one. "Ha! I got you!" She roared down at the bucket, handing it over to him. "I've got some salt and pickled green beans Maggie gave me before I left, so tonight truly will be a meal fit for kings."

For some reason, Shane had been anticipating a no from Monroe; that she would perhaps rather forage or, really, do anything else that meant not getting dirty. Just because it was the apocalypse didn't necessarily mean people still weren't stuck in some of their old ways. And though he didn't know the blonde in the past, he had a feeling that maybe she was someone who didn't like to get down into her work. Had brothers who picked up her slack while she was, for lack of a better world, busy being a girl.

So he was pleasantly surprised whenever she treaded into the water with almost no protest. "You won't scream," he reassured her. What he should've said was the frog won't jump on you, but Shane could control one thing better than the other.

Handing her the bucket, he rattled off directions on what to do. There was no complex science behind it. All it took, similar to what he'd told her when they were practicing shooting, was patience. And waiting to fire—in this case, waiting to scoop—until you were absolutely ready. "This means whether we eat good or don't, tonight, if that gives you any sorta motivation."

It probably didn't, but Shane thrived from negative reinforcement. He didn't mention, when talking about him, that his father would often threaten Shane and his older brother with his belt if it meant they did better at whatever job they were supposed to do. Often times, it worked.

[invsiblestringswrites]

Claire's eyebrows froze in midair as he spoke, raised as high as they could go. When she'd planned her flight out of the city limits, she'd never thought too much about how different life might be. She just wanted to be far from her coven and their hypocrisy, their wantonness, from the pressure to embrace her father's legacy and all it entailed.

But she still missed things from home, or at least starting to. Like reliable electricity. Spending her father's money on a Saturday afternoon strolling Canal Place. Getting her breakfast served at Broussard's rather than straight from the coop. But. She was here now, and she'd fought like hell to be able to say that, and the man before her had been nothing if not gracious.

"I don't know what one wears to collect eggs.." she mused aloud, mentally reviewing the scant outfit options in her duffel bag. She'd full intentions of buying replacements for her expansive wardrobe back home once she'd gotten settled, but something told her she wasn't going to find a Barney's here. "I'll think of something. Just one moment. I won't be but two seconds, I swear it!" she assured, already backing up down the hallway to the stairs.

Claire did not own overalls. Actually, she had a $500 pair from Magnolia back home. But those were dry clean only. Instead, she found her plainest henley and jeans and her Le Chameux rain boots, then braided her hair back as she retook the stairs two at a time. It had gone disastrously curly in the humidity and lack of power tools, and that was all she could do with it. "Alright. I'm ready! Let's go harvest eggs." Harvest? Reap? What was the terminology?

On account of not needing sleep, Ford set out to take care of the farm as soon as the storm settled down and dawn broke out into the sky. As he'd suspected, the ground was wet on the farm, but upon closer inspection, his trees weren't ruined. He made a mental note to neglect watering them for a few days; the rain would take its time soaking into their roots.

Padding through the sopping wet mud of the farm, he entered the dairy cow shed and greeted each animal with a pat. He spent a good portion of the morning milking those that needed to be milked, bottling it up and stowing it away for the milkman to pick up later. With Soleil all too preoccupied doing whatever it was she busied her days with, Ford often had to pick up the work around the estate. Every now and then he'd have helping hands, but he didn't mind "waking up early" to tend to things.

He was just about to set into the chicken coop, the sun now ascending higher into the sky and the birds chirping their morning song, when he sensed movement within the house. It wasn't Soleil's scent. Claire was awake.

-

"Ah, yes. My sincerest apologies," Ford spoke earnestly. He and his sister did a poor job at keeping up appearances; there was hardly any food because they didn't need it that much. They opted for animal blood for nutrition. He cleared his throat.

"You can still make breakfast, if you insist. I was just headed to the chicken coop to collect eggs, and I'm sure there are some spare frozen ham slices in the garage... if you'd like to join me." It was a long shot thinking a girl from the city would want to get dirty, but Ford took a chance anyway.