#like i know I’m better off bein lonely until I find someone who really cares about me

[flowachild]

independence is kinda boring when ur trying to love yourself

[trikadekaphile]

Excerpts from one of my favorite Han/Leia fanfics

Dant Solo once wrote a fanfic on the now-defunct TATS website, which was posted in three parts. It was titled "Oblivion" and focused on the missing moments from the period during the NJO (New Jedi Order) where Han and Leia were separated, then when they got back together. Dant Solo did what Kathy Tyers had neither the talent nor the decency to do: gave Han and Leia a proper reunion.

Now, it is no secret that I do not care for the pre-Disney EU, now called Legends. (For the record, I don’t care much for the Disney EU, either.) I flat-out hate much of the NJO, particularly the way it crapped all over Han/Leia's relationship -- not only separating them, but gypping them out of a reunion, and instead giving all the love/personal scenes to the red-gold pestilence and the penis on life support it married Mara and Luke...in the book that was supposed to contain the Han/Leia reunion. Tyers poured salt on the wound by offering a fake mea culpa where she said -- heck, gloated -- that she could have written some Han/Leia scenes, but she wanted to focus on the red-gold pestilence and the penis on life support it married Mara and Luke.

Han/Leia fans, justifiably outraged, began a campaign to get their couple better treatment. It took three years before Del Rey finally delivered something more than a half-assed stopgap measure: "Tatooine Ghost," set after Han and Leia were married, and thankfully retconned some of the most egregious and nauseating parts of the travesty called "The Courtship of Princess Leia."

Anyway, I feel a rant about the red-gold pestilence coming on, and I choose to quash it and refocus on the aforementioned excerpts from Dant Solo's fanfic. The whole fanfic is good, but I have some favorite parts, which are the ones I will post.

Without further ado, here are my favorite excerpts from "Oblivion":

*******

[Han] came to a lift and entered it with half a dozen other beings, traveling downward to an entertainment level.  He found a familiar cantina, one that had been renamed but remained, nevertheless, the same sort of dive it had always been.  He swaggered through the doorway, hand resting casually above his blaster in an old, customary habit.  His senses were immediately assaulted by a musty, hazy smoke that filled the crowded, dimly lit room.  Loud conversation filled his ears, and he suddenly hoped that no one would speak to him.  He wanted a drink and he wanted to be alone.

He ambled to the bar and sat on a lone stool at one end, waving a hand to the bartender, a shiny headed Bith who greeted him enthusiastically.  Grumbling, Han ordered Alderaanian ale, noting the way the bartender slunk away after he provided it.

Gulping the brew greedily, Han's thoughts returned to Leia.  He couldn't remember the last time they had exchanged pleasant words.  He supposed it must have been some time shortly after Sernpidal.  Again, as had been the case for so long, despair flooded him at the thought of his friend and co-pilot.  His eyes closed without him even realizing it, his mind remembering the final moments of the Wookiee's life, recalling the horrible, shattering events against his own will.

Chewie!  No!

Dammit!  His fist clenched around the cold, hard mug of ale, but almost as quickly, it unclenched with a weak, sorrowful acceptance, eyes opening reflexively.

Ahh, Chewie...What am I supposed to do here?  I wish you could tell me.

He knew what the big lug would say...he would tell him to get off his ass and pull himself together.  That there was no use beating himself up over it and that he had wasted enough of his time already.

And he would probably tell Han to go back to his family.  If there was one thing Chewie had always felt very strongly about, it was family.

Maybe if he hadn't been running around with me, he'd be with his family right now.

A futile thought, but Han couldn't help but think it anyway.  He sighed, feeling a shudder pass through him with the release of that breath.  This was why he'd always been a loner.  Granted, Chewie had been in his life for an incredibly long time before he'd lost him, but he remembered vividly the kind of pain that loss of any kind imbued, and he had vowed, as a much younger man, not to risk such loss ever again.

But first there was Chewie and then there was Leia, both taking on a tough edged scoundrel who really wasn't worth it.

Surely, Leia had recently drawn that conclusion in earnest.  He thought of her trip to Hapes, of her time with the dashing, regal Prince Isolder.  If she'd married him instead of Han, she wouldn't be alone right now; she wouldn't have to wonder what would become of her husband, her marriage.  With a distant darkness, Han wondered what had passed between the Prince and his wife.  He was still a handsome bastard; certainly Leia would have noticed that.  Han had left her alone all these months, had in truth mostly left her alone for months before, all the while existing in the same home as her, drinking himself into oblivion.

The idea of Leia with Isolder inflamed Han with a heart clenching, smoldering jealousy that consumed him for a long, violent moment, tempting him to hurl his mug across the room, shattering it against the wall as concretely as the thought shattered his soul.

He pushed the agonizing thought from his mind, forcing it into a quiet corner of his brain, along with all thoughts too painful to bear.

He tried not to think of anything at all, and was barely aware when someone sat on a nearby stool and slid it beside him.  He glanced over to find a tall, curvaceous woman with close-cropped, sun colored hair smiling at him in a flirtatious manner.  He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, smiling inwardly at the realization of who he had turned into since he'd met a young, idealistic would-be Jedi.  Then he returned his gaze to his drink, dismissing the young woman.

"Hi there," she said, turning to face him.

With a tired sigh, he looked at her again, smiling politely.  She was very attractive, he had to admit that.

"Buy a lady a drink?"  She smiled impishly.

Why not?  It couldn't hurt.  "Yeah, sure."  He gestured to the bartender, who hastened over.  "A drink for the lady," Han said with a gesture.

The woman smiled at the Bith.  "Tagorian Tellder wine."  As the bartender reached for the appropriate bottle and began to pour, she turned back to Han and extended a delicate hand.  "I'm Shayna."

Han shook her hand briefly.  "Han.  Nice to meetcha."  He took another long swig of his ale, watching the woman carefully as she received her drink from the bartender and sipped it slowly.

She raised an eyebrow at him before saying, "You look lonely, Han."

Han raised a brow in return.  "Nah, I'm just fine.  I like bein' alone."

"Really?  You don't ever like company?"

Against his will, his thoughts turned to his family.  It had been a long time, up until Chewie's death, since he had genuinely enjoyed being alone.  Now it seemed the only option left to him.  "Maybe sometimes.  Not often."

She smiled coyly.  "I don't like to be alone.  I'm always looking for company." She leaned toward him and the loose front of her blouse slid forward enticingly, capturing Han's gaze for the briefest of moments.

He looked away quickly, guzzling down the last of his ale and signaling the bartender for another.

Without warning, Shayna placed a warm hand on Han's thigh, just as his second ale was placed before him.

"You want to go someplace more private and talk some more?"

Han looked at her for a long moment, holding his mug in suspended animation halfway to his lips.  It could be so easy....to go with this beautiful woman and forget everything for a little while.  His body was certainly willing.  No one ever had to know.  There was no way for anyone to find out.  And in truth, he wasn't sure what was left of his marriage to begin with, so how wrong would it be, really?

Sighing mentally, Han realized that he would always know.  And if he ever had a chance of fixing things with Leia, he wasn't sure he could live with that knowledge.  Without warning, his mind assaulted him with an image of the hurt that would become present in Leia's eyes if he were to betray her.  Trust and fidelity had always been in large commodity between them, something each had always counted on, perhaps even taken for granted.  He could easily imagine how deeply this would cut her; how devastated and disappointed in him she would be.  Hadn't he disappointed her enough already?

It wasn't worth it.  A night with some stranger was not even remotely worth his wife and family, no matter what state those relationships were in.

He reached down and removed the woman's hand from his thigh, squeezed it gently for a second, then replaced it on the bar, noting her confused look of disappointment.  "Sorry, not interested."  He turned back to the bartop.

"You married?"  She asked knowingly.

"Yeah.  You could say that."  He closed up, pulling back inside himself.

"Hmm....you don't look like the faithful type," she said mischievously.

Han glanced at her, eyebrows shooting heavenward.  He supposed she was right, he didn't look the type.  Funny how things changed.  "Yeah, well, you'd be surprised."  He stood up, took one last gulp of his ale, tossed a few credits on the bar, gave the woman a mock salute, and then swaggered away. *******

Han dug into the travel pack he had stashed in a compartment over the sensor console on board the Falcon.  He was still undecided as to whether or not he was going to give Leia what was inside the pack.

He missed her already.  Their time together had been far too short.  After all the nights he had imagined holding her, he was still being denied.

With resigned uncertainty, he pulled out the gift he had purchased for Leia at the Abregadoe-rae spaceport.  It had almost seemed a sign at the time.  He had expected to see her when he arrived at Duro, and when he had seen this, he'd been uncharacteristically compelled to buy it.

The old fashioned book-- the actual flimsiplast sheets bound in a cover of burgundy with gold writing-- contained Alderaanian poetry.  He had stood in the small shop, holding it in his hands almost reverently, trying to decide if he should purchase it.

In a hasty decision, he had done just that.  Now he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to give it to her.  He felt somewhat foolish about the gesture.

He stood and placed the book on the holochess table and removed a bottle of Corellian brandy from a nearby compartment.  He went to the galley and grabbed a glass, filling it halfway with the amber liquid.  This drink was different from the ones he had taken this past year.   He didn't feel he needed it.  He simply wanted it. The rumble of the hatch opening surprised him, and he went to investigate, hand reaching for his blaster.  It was probably Jacen, but in such desperate circumstances, he couldn't take a chance.  As he hurried, he heard the sound of the hatch closing again, and when he rounded a corner, he saw what had to be Leia, removing the helmet of her chem suit.  He holstered his blaster and stared in disbelief as the helmet revealed her lovely face, surprising him yet again.  Around her now shaven head, a white scarf was tied.

She smiled at his dumbfounded expression, enjoying it immensely.  She knew she would have to be processed again in the morning, but she didn't care.  It was worth it.  She had dreamed of being with Han again for too long.  "Surprised to see me, Captain?"  She dropped the helmet to the floor and began removing the chem suit.

He just stared as she pushed the suit down her legs and stepped out of it.  With her hair gone, she looked thinner, the dark circles under her eyes more prominent.  It brought home to him what he had put her through, and guilt gripped his heart.

And here she is, doing everything in her power to be with me, yet again.  What did I ever do to deserve this woman?  He couldn't imagine.

Feeling awkwardly ashamed, he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked to the floor.

Leia picked up the suit and helmet, stashing them in a nearby compartment.  She was absurdly nervous.  Her stomach was fluttering in anticipation of spending time alone with Han.  In an effort to calm herself, she reached out through the Force to touch Han's essence and found him as nervous as she.  It was a comforting realization, and her tension decreased almost instantly.  She turned back to Han and they lapsed into silence.

He returned his gaze to hers.  "You want a drink?"

She nodded.  "Sure."  As she moved to follow him to the galley, she passed the holochess table and spotted, of all things, a book.  "What's this?"

Han stopped and saw her fingering the book on the table. I guess my decision's made for me, he thought dismally.  "Um...well, I got that for you."  He felt his face warming.

She looked up at him in sharp surprise.  He had gotten her a book?  That was certainly unexpected.  She smiled tentatively, sensing the sudden increase in awkwardness that permeated the air around Han.

Han crossed his arms over his chest, looking around the hold, everywhere but at Leia.  "I just...saw it, and...well, it made me think of you.  So I got it for you."  Did he sound as stupid to her as he did to himself?

She picked up the book gingerly, almost lovingly.  She fingered the cover, tracing the title with a fingertip:  The Heart Of Alderaan.  The old, familiar pain surfaced, competing with the pounding of her heart that was caused by Han's presence.

Han watched her, his heart churning.  She opened the cover carefully and turned to the first page.

Han cleared his throat.  "There was one poem..."  He grimaced at the sound of his own voice in the quiet of the ship, shrugging sheepishly.  "I thought it was pretty good. I marked it.  It really reminded me of you."

Leia glanced up at him for a moment before flipping carefully through the pages until she came to the one Han had marked.  Lead Me Back To You.  Warmth washed over her, and in a voice choked with emotion, Leia read the poem aloud.

"Blind and running, not knowing to where

Burning sorrow, from what isn't there

Eyes could not see, you were there for me."

Leia's voice faltered a moment, the words he had so carefully chosen cutting her deeply.  "Despair held reign, keeping me empty.

"Through the dark haze, your light strong and true

Ever shining, leads me back to you

Starlight so bright, a beacon in black

Filling my soul, completing my lack

"Worlds fall afar, hearts cry out breaking

Desperate need, my arms are aching

Moments are lost, lifetime spent running

Lovers are hurt, even the cunning

"Love and beauty, you brought to my life

Soothing comfort, an end to the strife

Further I fall, deep in your embrace

Hearts breathe in time, tears fall from your face."

Tears gathered, blurring the words.  She looked at him, speechless.  This was the most wonderful gift she had ever received.  Just knowing he had thought of her, as she had thought of him, almost continually, filled her with joy.

He stared back, his own expression grave.  "It's probably not the best poem you've ever seen," he began.  "But--"

"It's beautiful," she whispered.  "Thank you."

They stared at each other for a long, emotionally charged moment.  Han wanted to take her in his arms, but felt oddly unable to move.

She offered him a teary smile of encouragement and it was all he needed.

"C'mere," he whispered roughly, reaching out a hand toward her.

With a small sigh, Leia took his hand in hers and stepped close,  her eyes never leaving his,  feeling the unique way his life force called to her.  She wrapped herself up in it, drank it in with her senses.

With an almost inaudible whimper, Han's arms were suddenly around her, clutching her to him convulsively.  His breath near her ear was harsh as he whispered, "I missed you, Leia.  Gods, I missed you."

A waterfall of tearful emotion washed through her.  She held him more tightly and returned the whisper.  "I missed you, too.  Every moment.  Even when you  were at home."

Her words stabbed at his heart, but he understood her need to say them.  Eyes closed, threatening to overflow, Han breathed reverently, "I'm sorry.  I'm so, so sorry."

She pulled back just enough to look at his closed eyes.  She thought she could almost see a trembling to his chin, but was not quite sure in the dim lighting.  "I understand," she said, meaning it.

And he realized she did.  Because she knew him so well, better than he even knew himself.  He opened his eyes and brought up a hand to remove the white scarf from her head.

Her hand flew up protectively. "Han--"

"Shhh..."  He removed her hand, then followed suit with the scarf, dropping it to the deck.  He ran a  hand along her scalp, humbled by the gesture she had made for a few simple minutes with him.  He could barely  release the heartfelt words that bubbled to his lips.  "I don't deserve you.  I never have,"  he breathed.  

She shook her head slowly, eyes filling with bright tears.  "Just kiss me, you nerfherder,"  she said around the tightness in her throat.

His mouth bent to hers, kissing her with all the loneliness, loss and desperation he had felt for so long.  His arms held her tightly once more and he lifted her to dangle above the floor.

It was like coming home, for both of them.  Almost forgotten passion mingled with the joy of rediscovering each other, to carry them away to a haven where nothing else mattered, at least for a little while.

He swung her more fully into his arms, cradling her lovingly.  As he carried her to their cabin---their cabin,  he thought with a soft squeeze to his heart--- he was almost moved to tears by the gentle touch of her hands surrounding his face.

They reached the cabin and he placed her in the center of the bed, staring into her eyes for long, grateful moments.  Then they kissed again, softly, deeply, burrowing into each others' souls, erasing the pain and sorrow and replacing it with understanding and trust.

Their clothes were lost hurriedly, and when they were bared to each other, physically and emotionally, all else was forgotten.  Their mouths sought comfort, their caresses sought solace.  Forgiveness was understood, love granted unconditionally.

Too moved for words, they comprehended each other perfectly without them, sharing thoughts on a level of intimacy that left them both weak.

Crying out in a release that was as much emotional as it was physical, they clung to each other, trembling together, soaring on waves of passionate eternity.

Breath calming, Han held Leia in a gripping embrace, wanting to never let go.  He was overwhelmed by his feelings for her, in a humbling way he knew not how to express.  It permeated his soul, turning him inside out.  The past year had taken a toll on him, and now those feelings surfaced in the most profound way, filling him up, overflowing from within  him.  He was unable to contain them, and felt the tears choking his throat, unstoppable now.

Leia sensed the deep emotion in her husband and reached out through the Force to touch his soul.  When the first sob wrenched from his throat,  Leia held him close, stroking the damp hair at the back of his neck with excruciatingly comforting fingers, feeling his tears trickle a damp trail down her neck.  She reached out to him spiritually, felt him grip her mental touch almost reflexively, as if he did so without even realizing it.  She stroked his mind, doing her best to comfort him in every way she knew how.

He cried as he hadn't been able to since Chewie's death.  Not just tears now, but huge bursts of grief that emanated from his chest, obscuring everything but the soothing embrace of his wife.  He allowed her, finally, to hold him, to share his sorrow, to see just how much the past year had affected him.  He sobbed until he was too weak to continue, finally, blissfully, falling into a deep,  exhausted slumber, the first of such in a long, long time.

Leia held him still, her aching heart at last peaceful in the knowledge that Han and she had made sense of themselves.  The simple act of sharing his pain was proof that he was healing. It might take a bit more time to make him whole again, but they could do it...

Together, they could do anything.

*******

Leia watched her husband lying on his side, facing her.  She was filled with relief and serenity.  She had dozed on and off for the past two hours, while Han remained  entrenched in sleep.  She snuggled close to him, her thirst for his nearness not easily quenched.  After all was said and done, they had found each other again,  both equally unable to sever the bond they had shared for so long.   Pride and arrogance set aside, there really was no reason for them not to be together.

Leia waded in the warmth of Han's sleeping thoughts, like a gentle current.  His mind hadn't been so calm, so at ease, since before Chewie's death.

She sighed at the thought of the big Wookiee, so prominent a part of their lives.   After all the loss she had suffered in her life, she was surprised at how hard Chewie's death had hit her.  Certainly, not as hard as it had hit Han, but hard nonetheless.

She pushed aside that pain as she felt Han's consciousness stirring.  She pulled herself closer to him,  the skin of his shoulders so blissfully warm under her palms.

Stretching his legs before wrapping them around hers, he let out a low breath as his eyes flickered open and his arms surrounded her.  She brought her face to his stubbly cheek, making a soft sound of contentment from deep within her.

They held each other for a long silence, until Han pulled back, a somber expression etched into his features.  He leaned into her and kissed her lingeringly, then looked into her eyes once more, his expression growing slowly sheepish.  "Sorry to fall asleep on you,"  he admitted, looking up at her with raised eyebrows, face tilted downward.

"That's okay," she whispered.  "It just feels so good to hold you again."

"Yeah."  Han swallowed against the sudden lump that rose to his throat.  "I know what you mean."   He leaned against the pillow, raising a hand to stroke the smooth skin of her shoulder, just above where the blanket fell over her.  Her arms felt so good around him, too good to be true. But it was true, thankfully.  Feeling mildly ashamed at his earlier display of emotion,  he watched his fingers caress her skin and forced himself to speak.  "And, uh...sorry  'bout losing it before, too.  I don't want you to think it was anything bad about you--"

"I know what it was," she said softly, understandingly.

He looked back at her, nodding, resisting the urge to ask her to explain it to him.  He felt better now, more in control, more like his old self.  As if he had purged himself of some parasitic demon that had been eating away at his soul.  He relaxed and pulled her down to rest against his chest, tenderly amused by her lack of hair.  He rubbed her head gently, grinning.  "I bet you can't wait till I shave mine, huh?"

She raised her head to look him in the eye.  Happiness bubbled within her at the familiar sight of his charming, lopsided smile.  "Well, we might as well match," she said with a smirk.

The amusement in his eyes slowly faded to reveal a deeper emotion, as his gaze roamed over well loved features that had only come to endear her more to him with the passage of time.  It didn't matter to him  if her gorgeous hair was gone, she still took his breath away.  "You're still so beautiful,  Princess," he whispered.  He smiled wistfully.  "Too beautiful for an old pirate like me."

She laid her palm across his cheek, an unnerving thought creeping into her mind.  It was something she had thought of over the past few months, but had been afraid to truly acknowledge.  She forced a smile.  "You know you're still gorgeous," she said.  Her eyes fell from his to study the hair on his chest.  "I'm sure plenty of women told you so in your recent travels," she added quietly, unable to do more than imply her concerns.

His fingers lifted her chin, firm but gentle.  "Hey,"  he said fiercely.  "There was no one else."

She gazed into his eyes with hopeful uncertainty.

His lips pressed together before he spoke again.  "I swear it.  No one."

Their eyes held for a long, searching moment, and Leia didn't need to touch him through the Force to know he was sincere.  She kissed him softly on the lips before returning her head to rest on his chest.

They lay quietly for a time, while Han tried to think of a way to tell her all that she meant to him.  He had caused her so much pain,  forced her to put up with far more than she should have had to.  "Leia...,"  he began tentatively.  "I don't want you to think I ever stopped loving you--"

Her head rose quickly, meeting his eyes with her own.  "I never thought that.  I know you too well," she said softly.

He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes at her chin.  "Yeah, well..."  After a brief pause, he continued.  "The things I said to you, when I was drinking...I didn't mean them, not any of them."

"I know."

He sighed in a rush of defeated breath.  He closed his eyes and tried to force the words that did not come naturally to him.  "I just couldn't...I couldn't--"

"Shhh."  Leia placed a finger to his lips, stilling the awkward sentiment.  "Don't," she whispered, voice vehement.  "You don't need to explain anything." His lips moved beneath her finger,  his voice heavily laden with pain.  "I hurt you, Leia, everything I did this past year--"

Her lips replaced her fingertip, kissing him softly.  After a brief hesitation, he kissed her back.  When she broke away from his lips, she gazed at him with large, soulful eyes.  "Your fault, my fault...it doesn't matter.  Not now."

Han's brow furrowed.  "My fault.  It does matter."

She shook her head, smiling gently.  "No.  It doesn't."

He stared at her, eyes softly dubious, lips parting as if to say something else.  Then his mouth firmed into a thin line and he leaned up to enfold her in his arms.  He spun her to her back, holding her to him in a powerful embrace.  "I was selfish," he whispered into her neck.

She stroked his hair, thinking of how she would miss its softness.  "You were hurting, you couldn't help it."

He held her more tightly, felt her heart beating a steady rhythm with his.  "That's no excuse."

Gently, she pulled away from him, looking into his eyes with a grim expression.   She didn't want him beating himself up over this.  There was no point to it.  "Han, sometimes circumstances happen.  And we can't help how we react to them.  We cope the best way we know how."

Alderaan, he thought.  It should have broken her, but it hadn't.  Her inner strength was too tenacious.   He always knew she was stronger than he was.  Where he had crumpled, she had only grown stronger.  In the early years, once they had gotten past the nasty taunts and sarcasm, her strength had probably been what he admired most about her.  He nodded to her finally, unable to argue when she would not allow it.  He would carry this guilt for a long time, regardless of her lack of blame.  He almost wished she would tell him off, give him what he knew he so justly deserved.

Leia watched Han's features settle into resignation, then something resembling tender disbelief.

He shook his head very slowly. "How is it that you still love me so?"

She smiled, equally tender.  "How could I possibly stop?"  She asked softly, eyes wide and sincere.

He grimaced slightly, feeling so undeserving of her love and trust.  "I love you, Leia."   The words were barely a whisper.

Even if Leia hadn't been able to bask in the beauty of Han's emotions flowing freely through the energy of the Force, the look in his eyes would be enough.  She kissed him with a fervent passion that they hadn't known since their younger years, and they surrendered to the growing need to drown themselves in the intimacy each had existed without for far too long.  Their bodies moved  together in a timeless rhythm, strengthening their hearts and fortifying their souls.

All around them, oblivion slowly faded.

[artificialqueens]

In the Arms of the Ocean (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: After Vanessa’s ship sinks, she is accidentally rescued by her rival, Brooke Lynn Hytes. The two pirates are forced to work together to find treasure, and they might find something more in each other.

A/N: This is an au for @barbiehytes that’s been living rent-free in my head for a while, and I was finally able to finish it! I really hope you enjoy it! Thank you to Barbie for being so patient and supportive, and to Writ for helping me brainstorm and plot this, for betaing, and for FaceTiming me with your review. Your support means so much to me <3 <3 <3

I hope you enjoy, and I’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you have! Title from Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine.

—

Vanessa is wide awake when lightning strikes the ship.

She sleeps better at sea than on land, the gentle swaying of the boat and soft rush of ocean her favorite lullaby. Sleeping while a storm rages ruins that. It tosses the ship around like a toy, the waves like monsters biting at the wood. She spends nights like these in the comfort of the kitchen, cup of tea warming her.

The teacup in question–white with tiny roses, purchased at a market years ago–flies out of her hands as thunder claps and the boat rattles. It shatters on the floor, pieces like bone against the wood, but that’s the least of her problems. Because she knows the ship has cracked, feels it like a crack in her own heart.

Vanessa runs onto the main deck, struggling to stand as rain beats down and wind howls in her ears. The ship tips forward, and Vanessa gasps when a flash of lightning illuminates the crack running down the ship’s side. Water rushes onto the deck, making her shiver as it hits her legs. She has to get her crew–

Another crackle of lightning flashes, the bolt writhing toward the main mast. It gives with a mighty crack, her entire world splitting in two as the impact sends her flying. Her head smacks against the wood, and darkness takes her like a storm.

—

Vanessa’s pretty sure she’s dead.

She’s floating, but not moving. Everything is silent and dark. She wants to get up, see where she is, but she’s so tired. Her body is made of lead and it’s easier to keep her eyes shut, let the darkness take over.

Pain wakes her the second time, and maybe she’s not dead, because death probably shouldn’t hurt like this. Her head is pounding, her legs burning, and each breath sends shards of glass through her chest. Her ribs must be cracked. Maybe broken.

She can’t sit up, but maybe she can open her eyes—bright, way too bright. She whimpers and curls into herself, riding out the pain until everything stops spinning. Slowly, slowly, she eases open one eye, blinking through the cloud of pain.

By sheer luck, she’s on a piece of driftwood. She doesn’t know how long she’s been drifting, but she’s in the middle of the ocean, nothing in sight. Even if her dry throat could manage a cry for help, no one would hear it.

Her crew is gone. Four people who were her family, who happily lived off ocean air, who played cards with her, all gone. She wants to sob and scream and fight, give them the sorrow they deserve, but her dry eyes can’t even form tears. She lost her crew and—

Oh, God, her ship.

Annabel’s Beauty, named after her mother who wanted to sail her whole life and never got the chance. It wasn’t big, with old wood that creaked all night, but it was her home. The curves of the wood were a blanket around her, safe and warm. She hadn’t gone down with the ship, hadn’t given it a final send-off. She failed her crew, failed her ship, and the ache in her chest has nothing to do with her ribs.

There’s nothing left, just this chunk of wood beneath her and the endless sea ready to swallow her up. It’s only a matter of time. She almost welcomes it. This wood isn’t big enough for her grief, but the sea has centuries of it, lonely sailors and lost lovers and beloved ships in its depths. She’ll be just another speck of the sadness.

She’s grateful when sleep claims her once more.

—

“She’s alive, we have to help her!”

“Nina—“

“We have to.”

Vanessa barely notices that someone’s lifting her. Everything is blurry and far away, like she’s underwater, but she glimpses a ship with Ancer painted on the side and a kind woman laying her down, holding a water jug to her lips.

“Drink, there you go,” the kind woman praises. The water is heaven to Vanessa’s scratchy throat, and her vision clears. She’s on a ship deck with two worried women nearby. The right side of her face is stiff with dried blood and her head throbs. Her mind is too foggy to care where she is, but she seems safe, and that’s enough.

“Nina, she must be really hurt,” one woman says. “All that blood—“

“You can fix her,” the brunette—Nina—says confidently.

“Maybe, but she’ll be pissed.”

Vanessa’s too tired to wonder who this she is, but the answer could be in the sudden click of boots.

“Well, well, well,” a cool voice begins. “What do we have here?” The owner of the voice emerges, and every curse Vanessa knows flies through her hazy brain.

This is bad. This is so bad. It’s not Ancer on the side of the boat. She’s on the Water Dancer.

She’s on Brooke Lynn Hytes’s ship.

Hytes has been her rival for years, both of them sailing the coast for treasure and stealing from men who hold cities in their hands. Every journey, Hytes was either a few paces behind, or, making Vanessa boil with anger, ahead. Ports and islands became their battleground, each docking a chance at riches for whoever got there first, neither above dirty tricks to succeed. Last she knew Hytes was going after the Charles treasure, which was where Vanessa was heading…

Hytes is every inch a captain as she towers over Vanessa. She’s blanketed in darkness from her slick black boots to her black coat with its re-stitched hem from when Vanessa slashed it during a diamond hunt. A gold medallion dangles from her neck, shining against her milky skin. Brooke’s cool hand gently cups Vanessa’s chin and tips her head up, forcing her to meet Brooke’s eyes, misty as the sea. Vanessa shivers under Brooke’s gaze, suddenly self-conscious of her raggedy, blood-stained shirt and shredded black pants. She looks like a drowned rat next to Hytes’s grandeur, and that won’t do. She knocks Brooke’s hand away and staggers to her feet even as Nina tells her to stay down.

“Mateo,” Brooke says with a wicked grin.

“Hytes,” Vanessa croaks.

She stalks around Vanessa in a circle, a tiger watching its prey. Vanessa burns where Brooke’s eyes bear into her, like she can see Vanessa’s soul. “Mateo, shipwrecked like a little rat. Not so tough now, are we?”

Vanessa says nothing even as her heart races.

Brooke rubs her hands in thought, still smiling. “Now, what should I do with you? Maybe–”

“We have to help her, Brooke,” Nina interrupts.

Brooke sighs. “Nina, we barely have enough rations already. You want another mouth to feed?” There’s real concern for her crew in Brooke’s words, not that Vanessa cares when her life is at stake. “Not to mention a mouth that’s cheated us out of who knows how much gold—“

“If you’re sick of bein’ beat, move those stupid legs faster.” Vanessa can’t stay quiet anymore. If she didn’t lose her sword in the shipwreck, she’d be at Brooke’s throat.

Brooke flushes, and Vanessa surges with pride at finally getting to her. “You come on my ship—”

“I didn’t want to come here, believe me. I don’t have a choice.”

Brooke glows with evil glee. “No, you don’t have a choice.”

Vanessa gulps, because the murderous gleam in Brooke’s eyes can’t be good. She has to do something, something big enough to stay alive. She frantically looks around, getting her bearings like she always can at sea. The Jewel Cliffs are behind them, and it hits her–

“Wait!” Vanessa screams. “I know you’re going after the Charles treasure.”

Brooke freezes.

“And you’re going the wrong way.”

Nina gasps and Brooke pales, forehead creasing in worry before smoothing out. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” Vanessa stands straighter, wincing as pain shoots through her ribs. “You think I’m bluffing, then kill me. Sure would suck if you can’t find it, though. All that searching for nothing.” Vanessa leans in. “I can get us there in a few weeks.”

Brooke clenches her fists. Vanessa keeps standing tall, expression blank. She has Brooke. No way will she risk losing the gold.

“Fine,” Brooke snaps. “You stay alive, you get me the treasure, and I dump you at the nearest town.”

“You dump me home,” Vanessa insists, “or I won’t find it.”

Brooke nods.

“How do I know you’re not bluffing?” Vanessa asks. “You could kill me after you get your treasure.” Brooke plays just as dirty as Vanessa, and she’d be a fool to agree blindly.

Brooke sighs like that was her plan, but then she flips her left hand over and points to the thick white scar slicing across her palm. Vanessa recognizes a promise scar when she sees one.

“You see this?” Brooke asks, finger running across the line breaking her skin. “It means I keep my word. I’ll get your mouth back home, if you get me the treasure.”

Up close, Vanessa sees it’s so thick because it’s not just one scar. There are two others underneath, faded into her pale skin. Brooke made three promises to people that she intended to keep forever. Three times she had cut her palm open and watched it bleed, healing into a scar to remind her of her promise. They aren’t taken lightly among pirates, and Vanessa has to admit it makes her want to trust Brooke.

“Fine,” Vanessa spits.

“Don’t think this is kindness, Mateo. If you lied, the sea can have you.” She turns to the other woman. “A’keria, fix her up,” she says before retreating.

Vanessa limps forward on legs stinging with cuts from the shipwreck, refusing to be weak in front of her enemies. But A’keria’s hands find her, keeping her upright as she’s helped into a small room, and Vanessa doesn’t have the strength to refuse.

A wet cloth works through the blood on her face, and A’keria’s gentle, Vanessa gives her that. Not that it matters when her face is one giant bruise.

A’keria pours whiskey over another cloth. “This’ll sting,” she says, sounding truly sorry.

Vanessa bites out curse after curse as her cuts burn, because no way is it getting back to Hytes that she screamed.

A’keria pulls out a needle and thread, and Vanessa snatches the whiskey and takes a long gulp.

—

Brooke paces her captain’s office, shuffling maps in fury. “I don’t believe this. She’s on my ship, and now I have to feed her and keep her alive to get my damn treasure!”

“Brooke,” Nina says quietly, more patient than one person should be.

“What?” Brooke demands.

“Vanessa’s hurt, and she lost her boat and her crew. That can’t be easy,” Nina says and Brooke thinks of what a good person Nina is. Better than her, for sure.

Brooke stops pacing. She can’t imagine losing her crew. Nina and A’keria and Yvie are the best family she’s ever had, and the ship is the only true home she’s known. But Mateo?

Mateo’s just a scoundrel, beating Brooke out of treasure by sheer luck, swooping in and stealing it after Brooke did the work of finding it. Just last month Mateo set off some explosion that reeked of rotten eggs to steal the Cain rubies from Brooke’s hands. But she did survive the shipwreck, had enough strength in her to hang on, and Brooke’s reluctantly impressed.

“If she does her part, I’ll do mine. I keep my word.”

“I know.” Nina glances at Brooke’s palm. The promise she made to Nina is the oldest scar there, a thin white line Brooke hopes she fulfills every day.

“It doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. Have Yvie scout the new course.”

Nina leaves and Brooke drops into her desk chair, fixing maps. How could she have the Charles treasure route wrong? She’s been searching for years, sketching and re-sketching paths, calculating distances, poring over maps until candles burned down to the nub. She finally had it this time—or she thought she did.

What makes Mateo so sure she’s right? The idea of her having knowledge Brooke doesn’t have makes her blood boil. Brooke’s the captain; she takes pride in knowing everything she needs to, in protecting her crew and never leading them astray. But Mateo does have a knack for beating the odds, showing up places she shouldn’t, and if there’s any chance she’s right, Brooke has to keep her alive. She won’t lose her treasure.

It’s not ideal, and though Mateo supposedly has the knowledge, Brooke has the upper hand. She’s still the captain, her chest warm with the comfort of control. She sets her black hat on her head and goes to the main deck to reset their course.

—

Vanessa is led to dinner by Yvie, the sailing master who spends most of the day perched up on the top mast. A’keria bandaged Vanessa and gave her fresh clothes and tea to help the pain, and it’s the best she’s felt since her ship sank. She even cleaned Vanessa’s favorite black vest, and it’s a piece of home hugging her.

The kitchen is smaller than the one on Vanessa’s ship, with a battered wooden table in the center. Vanessa wonders if this table has seen the life hers did, card games and arm-wrestling and food spills all fair game on its surface.

Nina ladles out stew, and Brooke is first in line, of course. The bowl Nina gives her is filled to the brim, and when Brooke thinks no one is looking, she tips some stew back in the pot. Vanessa realizes that she’s taking less so her crew can have more, and it changes something in her perception of Brooke just a bit, knowing she’s capable of kindness, however rarely. Vanessa files it away for future use.

“It’s really good, Yvie,” Nina says as everyone slurps stew.

“Thanks. Not as good as yours, though,” Yvie says.

“You all cook?” Vanessa asks. She misses dinner conversations with her crew, and though Brooke is silent at the head of the table, the rest are friendly.

A’keria nods. “We share it. Except Brooke. One time she made chicken and we gave it to stray dogs at a dock and–”

Brooke’s warning glare cuts her off.

“–And even they wouldn’t eat it,” A’keria whispers to Vanessa. They smile and talk through dinner, and Vanessa thinks she’s found a friend.

Brooke tells Vanessa to scrub the dishes, and Vanessa sighs. On her ship, they alternated cleaning duties, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Brooke sticks her with dishes every night. It could be worse, though. And besides, she has the knowledge here. If she ever wants out, she’ll just threaten not to tell Brooke where the treasure is. She’s outsmarted Brooke before, and she can do it again.

“Let me help. You’re hurt.”

Vanessa turns to see Nina, cloth in hand.

“Thank you.” Vanessa’s too weary to do anything but accept.

Nina nods. “Don’t let Brooke scare you. She’s just mad we had to change course. She likes to keep on schedule.”

Vanessa snorts. “I’m not scared of her. She should be scared of me.”

With that, Vanessa dries her last dish and goes to bed, wrapping herself in a warm blanket and melting into the pillows. She’s seconds from sleep when a lion roars near her.

“What the hell?” She mutters.

She realizes she’s next to Brooke’s cabin, and of course Brooke snores like a damn animal. Cursing Brooke, Vanessa buries her head in the pillow and drifts off.

—

Brooke rises before sunrise, stretching her long limbs and continuing her routine in the kitchen. She fixes tea with one spoonful of sugar from their supply sack, the cup stinging her hands as she walks across the deck. The captain is always up first, and before Brooke starts preparing for the day, she watches the sunrise light up the worn deck and twinkle off the deep blue water. It’s her favorite part of the day, everything still and quiet, just her and the ocean without a care in the world.

But today, someone’s beaten her to it.

Vanessa stands in Brooke’s spot along the ship’s side, eyes fixed on the sea like she’s searching for something. What she’s searching for, Brooke doesn’t know or care–she only cares that Vanessa is up before her, that she’s done who knows what in that time.

“What are you doing?” Brooke demands, standing next to Vanessa. “Are you snooping around on my ship?”

“Just looking at the sea. Not a crime, is it?” She snaps.

“No, but it’s suspicious. Especially this early.”

“Captain’s always up first,” Vanessa says. She turns back to the ocean, and her eyes seem sad.

“Oh, when did I die and make you captain?” Brooke asks in mock confusion.

“I–”

“You need a ship to be a captain.” Brooke doesn’t know why she’s being so mean. Maybe because waking before the world and watching the sunrise has been hers alone since she started sailing, something sacred to her.

Vanessa’s shoulders slump and she sighs. “I always watched the sunrise on my ship. Thought it’d be nice to do it here.” She blinks quickly, and Brooke steps back in alarm at the dampness pooling in her eyes.

Vanessa is the only person who could keep up with Brooke, her only real opponent. It’s kept Brooke on her toes over the years, made her smarter, stealthier. Through sword fights and chases Vanessa never lost heart, coming back just as fierce after defeat. To see her this upset, this defeated, is… strange. Like something too personal for Brooke to witness. Though she doesn’t know how to handle it, she understands, because Brooke wouldn’t wish what happened to her on anyone.

Brooke clears her throat. “You can stay, all right?” She retreats, and keeps glancing at Vanessa while she ties knots.

Vanessa’s eyes never leave the water.

—

Every morning, Vanessa stares at the water, wondering if she could have done more to save her crew. Brooke stands with her in silence. She knows Brooke does it to keep an eye on her rather than keep her company, and though Vanessa would rather spend time with a slug than Brooke, it is nice to have someone there; the mere presence of another person helps Vanessa feel like more than just the lone survivor, helps her feel human.

Vanessa ties on her red bandanna and throws herself into every task Brooke gives her. Her years of experience shine, and Brooke can’t find a flaw in her work. She tries, sure–hovering behind Vanessa as she secures ropes and pulleys, eyes alert for any mistake–but Vanessa’s skills meet Brooke’s standards, and Brooke moves onto her own work, scanning maps and fiddling with her compass.

Vanessa could protest about Brooke watching her like some lowly cabin boy, could complain that Brooke works her too hard, but in a way, she’s grateful to have a purpose. Grateful for the distraction from the lingering pain in her head, from the fierce pain in her heart over losing her crew and ship. When she’s working, nothing else matters. Getting lost in the familiarity of her hands tying knots and adjusting sails helps her forget the shipwreck, even for just a few minutes. She whistles to herself, and sometimes A’keria hums along while Yvie conducts from the top mast, and it’s like she’s back home, on her ship.

But the next second that pain is back, and she burns with shame over pretending this ship is her home, over forgetting her crew and how they’d constantly catch fresh fish for Vanessa’s favorite dinner. This ship isn’t her home, won’t ever be her home, and she can’t forget her crew.

She does her work, and the cuts on her legs hurt less every day, fading into her scar collection. Even breathing gets easier as her ribs mend. Her ship may have cracked, but she won’t, taking everything the ocean threw at her and growing stronger from it. Even without a ship, her heart is still a captain’s heart.

—

“This is right?” Brooke stares at the path Vanessa drew on the map. “Past Nautilus Bay, through the Sparrow Strait, and into Cayo Cove?” The Sparrow Strait is a mess of sharp rocks and jagged cliffs that claims more ships than anywhere in the ocean, and Brooke knows they’ll need all her skills to get through.

“Why, having doubts about sailing there? You should be able to, being a captain and all,” Vanessa says, smiling cheekily at Brooke. The grin lights up her face and Brooke’s stomach twists. Brooke’s always seen Vanessa during fights or chases, when everything was sweaty and breathless and frantic. She’s never seen Vanessa this close for this long before, and Brooke finds that she’s sort of pretty when she’s not covered in blood and fighting to stay alive. This Vanessa happily whistles off-key while she ties knots with care, excitedly pointing out birds that fly by, her necklaces–one gold, one beaded–swinging merrily while she works. The clothes A’keria gave her are a little too big, and Brooke can’t stop staring at the tattooed bit of Vanessa’s chest that the loose white shirt exposes.

Brooke clenches her fist, vowing not to give in. “I’m not worried. I’m a captain, like you said.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes, Captain Hytes. How’d you become captain, anyway? You steal a ship?”

Brooke considers telling Vanessa it’s none of her business, but Vanessa’s raising her eyebrow mischievously, and what would shut her up better than the truth?

“I ran away from home after my father arranged my marriage without telling me. I stole some of his gold to get by. I earned the ship myself and found my crew. They elected me.”

This ship was the first thing that was truly hers, not given by her father so she could boost his image. It was her first taste of independence and freedom, hair whipping in the wind, released from pins that gave her a headache, sea rippling beneath her. She was free, and no one could take it from her.

Vanessa’s mouth hangs open, and Brooke grins.

“Sounds like your father would get along with mine.” Vanessa recovers quickly. “He kept trying to set me up too. My mother always stopped him. Then she passed, and I ran before he could marry me off.”

It doesn’t surprise Brooke, but it’s unnerving to have another similarity with Vanessa, to have this glimpse into her life. Brooke doesn’t know what to do with it, and she wishes she never shared her story.

“Sorry about your mother,” Brooke says quietly. She catches herself, though, coughing away the sudden pang of sympathy in her chest as she adds gruffly, “Don’t forget to check the cables.”

“Done,” Vanessa says smugly.

Brooke falters. Vanessa’s good, she has to admit. “Well, find something to do,” she says, marching across the deck to Nina.

“Adjust the sails,” Brooke commands, “we have our heading.”

—

Vanessa is staring at the water one morning when Brooke arrives, her frown likely because Vanessa was up first. It’s a point of pride for Vanessa, that even when she can’t captain her own ship, she’s still awake first, fulfilling her role in that tiny way. It gives her the same glee she gets doing things before Brooke commands her to, flaunting her experience as captain.

Brooke sips tea with one hand and clutches her brass telescope with the other.

“We just passed the Salt Coast,” Brooke informs her.

The name stirs something in Vanessa’s mind. “Isn’t that where you stole those jewels from me?”

Brooke grins smugly. “I didn’t steal them. You and I were fighting, and Yvie took them while you were distracted.”

“That’s stealing!”

“We’re pirates, Mateo. Stealing’s what we do.”

“I like to call it ‘finding and keeping,’” Vanessa says sheepishly.

Brooke snorts, a real snort that makes Vanessa smile at how loud it is. The sunrise hits Brooke at the same time, and suddenly she’s bathed in warm golden light that dulls the sharpness in her face, softens her a little. She really is pretty like this, her coat rippling in the wind, her eyes shining, and Vanessa’s heart skips a beat.

“Besides, you’ve stolen from me several times, as I recall,” Brooke says. “There was Turtle Isle–”

Vanessa laughs, because Turtle Isle was one of her biggest finds. She had docked far away from Brooke and crept through the dense, muggy grass, dodging frogs and bugs, emerging from the trees and stealing the chest of silver just when Brooke uncovered it.

“I got a lot of money for those cups, thanks for that,” Vanessa says with a smile.

“Guess you’ll make up for it soon.”

“Since I’m making up for it, maybe I don’t have to do dishes tonight?” Her hands are raw from scrubbing, and she might as well try when Brooke’s in a good mood.

After a beat of silence, Brooke nods.

Vanessa smiles. “While we’re at it, can we have fish for dinner?”

“If you catch them.” Brooke pauses. “There’s extra water in the kettle, if you want tea.”

Vanessa can’t hide her surprise. Maybe talking like this, sharing memories only they have, has brought out some kindness from deep inside Brooke. Vanessa fills a teacup, and they drink together.

Later, Vanessa loses herself in fishing, preparing the traps and mustering up all her patience, removing the bones and rubbing in salt and pepper, and when everyone digs in, Brooke says it’s the best fish she’s had.

—

The Water Dancer sails on, and the excitement–the frantic shuffling of maps as they get closer, outlines of land popping up after days of blue ocean, the promise of treasure making the boat fly across the water—rubs off on everyone. They help each other scrub the deck and monitor supplies, breathless with how close they are. Vanessa’s trying to convince herself that they’ll make it, that the storm won’t come for her this time.

Brooke encourages her crew with restraint, careful not to get overexcited or make foolish mistakes, soothing the crew’s worries about the dangers of the strait while pacing a hole in the deck worrying about it herself. It’s just what Vanessa would do, and she’s not sure what to do with the similarity, another thing marking Brooke as her equal. Because Brooke is her only equal, the only one who’s competed with her over the years. Even if it was annoying as hell, Brooke like a bad scent you couldn’t shake, Vanessa enjoyed the challenge, and Brooke is the only one who can challenge her.

“Morning,” Vanessa greets Brooke cautiously as the sun rises.

Brooke chews her lip. “Sky’s awful red.”

Vanessa understands at once. Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning, goes the old saying, and they’re set to reach the strait tonight.

“Looks pink to me.”

“Mateo–”

“Hey.” Vanessa’s surprised at how gentle her voice is, how much she wants it to calm Brooke. “We’ll be fine, Br–Hytes. You’re the second best captain in the sea.”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Second best?”

Vanessa grins. “You didn’t think I’d put you above me, did ya?”

Brooke laughs then, the worries melting off her face. “Mateo?”

“Yes?”

“Can you help me with a constrictor knot for the sails? My fingers keep getting stuck, and you–you’re better at knots than I am.”

Vanessa flushes at the praise. She knows she’s a master at knots, but to hear it from Brooke–an equally skilled sailor who doesn’t give compliments–makes it all the better. It’s recognition she never thought she’d get from Brooke, and she knows it took guts for Brooke to say it.

From Brooke’s hesitant face, it’s like she expects Vanessa to say no, but it won’t do her any good if the knots aren’t secure, and for some reason, she wants to help Brooke, match her kindness.

“Of course I’ll help.”

Brooke’s shoulders loosen in relief, and she directs Vanessa to the sails.

Vanessa slips her hands around the rope, looping and knotting and twisting. The constrictor knot is one of the hardest knots, something Vanessa’s slim fingers are well-suited for. She notices Brooke marveling at her hands, and Vanessa pulls the rope with a flourish, unable to resist showing off a little. Finally, Brooke takes a turn, Vanessa slipping in now and then to guide her fingers, the touches like lightning on Vanessa’s skin. Brooke’s hands are captain’s hands, strong and sturdy and a little rough, especially the raised lines of her promise scars. They’re gentle though, ghosting over Vanessa’s like she’s afraid of hurting her. When the last knot is secured, Brooke smiles in triumph, and Vanessa smiles with her.

“Tea?” Vanessa offers, figuring it might help the haze in her mind after touching Brooke’s hands.

They drink together, red sky forgotten.

—

Brooke is still thinking about Vanessa’s hands that night, a welcome distraction from the chilly waters of the approaching Sparrow Strait. How they weaved in and out the rope so quickly, so delicately. How the tiny calluses on her fingers contrast the softness of her wrists and palms. How they warmed Brooke’s whole body every time they brushed. She pictures Vanessa’s hand in hers, and then the ship’s bell rings, jolting her out of the fantasy.

The Sparrow Strait looms before them, and Brooke’s stomach jumps in anticipation. If she can get through this, the treasure is theirs.

The crew stands around her in worry, and Brooke can’t blame them. Tendrils of fog swirl around the jagged rocks they have to sail through, sky as dark as a bruise.

“We can do this,” Brooke says confidently. “I want everyone below deck. I’ll sail us through it.”

Nina immediately shakes her head. “Brooke, you shouldn’t stay alone–”

“Nina,” Brooke begins softly, “You’re my second in command. If anything happens to me, you’re captain. Stay inside, please. Be safe. All of you,” she adds, cutting off A’keria and Yvie’s protests.

Nina grips her wrist, eyes teary, and Brooke knows Nina will listen even though every ounce of her wants to stay. She grabs Nina’s arm, nods that she’ll be all right.

“I’ll stay,” Vanessa says.

Everyone gapes at her.

Vanessa shrugs. “I’ll make sure we’re on the right track. Besides, any pirate worth their salt knows you shouldn’t sail alone at night.”

Brooke could protest, insist she’s perfectly capable of doing this, but she doesn’t. Sailing alone at night is always scary, but in the Sparrow Strait, it’s worse than anywhere. In this kind of water, you never know if the shadows swirling around the boat are fish or much worse, and that fear will only worsen as the night goes on. She’s better off having someone with her, even if it’s Vanessa, and Brooke agrees, still in disbelief over Vanessa’s bravery.

It’s just Brooke and Vanessa and a lantern to ward off the dark, unseen birds piercing the night with ghostly screeches. But Brooke thinks she’d take the birds when Vanessa starts singing.

“Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest!”

“Mateo.”

“Yo-ho-ho and a bottle o’ rum!”

“Mateo, I swear I’ll feed you to the sharks.” There’s no real malice in Brooke’s voice. Truthfully, she’s grateful for something to break the tension, to make those shadows creeping below look more like fish than monsters. She decides to ask Vanessa the question that’s been bothering her.

“How’d you know where the treasure is? No one even knows it exists.”

Vanessa sighs. “Because I was looking for it too. I finally had the right way, and I was so close.” She screws her eyes shut. “Then the storm came outta nowhere. Destroyed my ship and almost killed me.” She rolls up her pant legs, revealing several fresh pink scars. They’re probably from sharp edges of ship debris cutting her, and Brooke winces in sympathy. She peers closer, frowning in confusion. A long scar runs the length of Vanessa’s right leg, too faded to be from her shipwreck.

“What about that one?” Brooke asks. “It looks old.”

Vanessa fixes her pants and nods. “It’s from a few years ago. These pirates ambushed us. I was taking on three of ‘em, and one got me with his sword.”

“Shit.” Brooke whistles, slightly impressed over Vanessa taking on three men at once.

“Yes,” Vanessa agrees. “I couldn’t walk for a week. Had to just give out commands.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t hard for you, with that mouth,” Brooke mutters.

Vanessa elbows her playfully. Her face turns serious again as she rolls up her sleeve, and Brooke gasps at the P branded into her forearm, skin around the edges puckered and pink, a mark of punishment captors gave to pirates. Brooke can’t imagine how much it hurt, can’t believe Vanessa is trusting her like this.

“I got caught once,” Vanessa says darkly. “I was just looking at stuff in a market, but this governor said he knew I was a pirate. He threw me in a cell, and then I smelled the branding iron. I tried to fight him…” She sighs, and Brooke knows Vanessa didn’t go quietly. “Took three of his men to hold me down for it. It hurt like a bitch.”

Anger rises in Brooke’s chest, burning with the urge to find the man who did this and make him hurt like he hurt Vanessa.

“How’d you get away?”

“My crew snuck inside and stole the key. Otherwise…” She trails off and Brooke understands that she wouldn’t be here without them.

“Well, I’m glad they got you out,” Brooke says. “To find my treasure and all.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes, losing the sadness that makes Brooke’s heart hurt. “Sure, Hytes.”

Vanessa goes quiet and Brooke figures it’s her turn. Vanessa’s shown hers, and Brooke can trade scar stories all day. There’s some sort of connection, some agreement that this is all right. The ship is their circle of protection from sharp rocks and ghostly moonlight, and Brooke doesn’t mind sharing. Brooke carefully shifts her shirt, revealing white lines creeping over her shoulders like tendrils. Vanessa’s mouth drops open.

“Brooke, that looks like it’s from–”

“A whip,” Brooke finishes grimly. “From the owner of that tavern in White Point. He was stealing from customers and I was ready to expose him, but he caught me, tied me up in his cellar. Got my shoulder and some of my back with his whip. Took A’keria hours to fix me up.” She grins. “I got him, though. Took him out with my hands tied behind my back.”

Brooke still remembers that night–the itchy rope cutting into her wrists, the discomfort nothing once the searing pain of the whip hit her; how she knocked the man out with a strong kick and satisfying crunch before staggering back to Nina, half-conscious and soaked with blood.

Vanessa returns the smile. Beneath the fear and pain of captures and fights, there’s a certain thrill and glory in it, which they both know well. It’s something Brooke can’t share with anyone else, and it’s nice to have someone who understands, who won’t judge her.

Brooke lifts her shirt, showing off the scar above her hip. “From a duel,” she explains. “Someone went after Yvie and I told him to back off, so he challenged me.” She smiles again, giddy with the memory. “Idiot. He lasted five seconds.”

“What about…” Vanessa gestures to Brooke’s hand. Brooke turns her palm to Vanessa, like she’s baring her soul. The scars were painless compared to her others, but they’re her most important ones.

“My promise scars. One for Nina, one for A’keria, one for Yvie.”

“What did you promise?”

“I promised that they’d always have a home on my ship, and that I’d always protect them.”

Vanessa’s shoulders scrunch up, and by the time another heartbeat passes, her face is soaked with tears. Brooke desperately wants to hold her, rub her back, soothe those tears away. She can’t imagine how bad the wreck was to take Vanessa’s smile from her, and she wants to put it back, put Vanessa’s teasing and confidence back too, because it hurts to see her unravel like this. “I just…I miss my crew,” Vanessa says through breathy sobs. “I should’ve got to them in time–”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“But–”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Brooke repeats firmly. She hands Vanessa a handkerchief from her coat pocket. She wracks her brain for the right words, and this time, she has them. She knows how Vanessa feels, knows how much a captain wants to protect their crew, how they want to find control and blame in things that don’t have either. “You’re a good captain, Mateo. Almost as good as me,” she says, heart lightening when Vanessa cracks a smile. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

Vanessa sniffles and nods, extending the handkerchief to Brooke.

“Keep it.”

Vanessa nods again, blushing as her eyes meet Brooke’s. “Thank you.” Brooke knows she means it for everything.

“You’re welcome.”

Vanessa steps closer, just a foot away. Brooke’s heart is racing, wondering why Vanessa has crept so close, wondering what would happen if she reaches out for her–

Vanessa’s shout tears through the night, and Brooke jumps back, instantly alert. She turns and gasps as the fog clears.

They’re heading straight toward a giant rock.

—

Vanessa’s brain is still fogged with everything that’s happened tonight–Brooke’s softness, the stories they shared, the handkerchief tucked neatly inside Vanessa’s pocket–when Brooke barks out commands to pull them away from the approaching rock.

“Lower the anchor!” Brooke radiates sheer strength and confidence, so sure of what needs to be done, so sure she can do it.

Something about her hands gripping the wheel, her steady shoulders rippling, makes warmth pool in Vanessa’s stomach. She can’t take her eyes away, and it’s not until Brooke shouts her name that she remembers to drop the anchor.

Vanessa isn’t sure of this, doesn’t know if the anchor will give enough leverage to swing them around, but she can’t think of another option, and she’s in awe of how quickly Brooke’s mind came up with it. Vanessa holds her breath as Brooke turns the wheel, using the anchor to propel the ship’s trajectory around the rock. It works, the ship passing by so closely Vanessa could reach out and touch the slimy rock, but they make it. They make it and around the turn is a cave where the treasure awaits.

“We did it.” Brooke collapses onto the deck in relief, and Vanessa’s wobbly legs join her.

“We did it,” Vanessa repeats, giggling as the ship nears the cave. Brooke giggles with her, more carefree and happy than Vanessa ever thought she’d be. “You’re a damn good captain,” Vanessa says. Everything she’s learned about Brooke tonight swims in her mind, from her promise to protect her crew, to the way she helped Vanessa, to the cool confidence that just saved them. Her heart is racing, and she knows it’s not just because of the excitement. It’s because Brooke, soft and laughing with her hair messy, makes her heart flutter.

Brooke’s hat has fallen on the deck and Vanessa gently places it back on her head. She can’t resist tucking a stray piece of Brooke’s hair behind her ear, freezing when she meets Brooke’s eyes. She backs away but Brooke is tugging her closer, and then their lips meet, and Vanessa explodes with the same rush she had sailing the first time: standing on the deck of her ship like she was on top of the world, her heart swelling with joy as the ship moved through the bright sea, the entire world ahead of her.

For all her steel, all Vanessa has to do is grip Brooke’s shoulder and the woman is melting in her hands, her chest rising gently as her hands roam Vanessa’s back, holding her close. They pull apart once the ship slams into the shoreline, and Vanessa doubts the treasure in the cave will be as good as the one she just got.

—

“Sure is dark in here,” Vanessa mumbles as they twist through cool cave walls. She stays close to Brooke and her lantern, needing the security not only of the light, but of Brooke herself.

“That’s because we’re in a cave,” Brooke deadpans, and Yvie snorts behind them.

Vanessa lets the kiss keep her warm as they twist and turn further into the cave and the temperature drops until they’re all shivering.

A’keria is complaining that she should’ve worn her winter coat when a room of glittering gold opens before them. Jewels and cups and coins spill over bumpy rocks, and in the center lies an ornate chest, the wood old but the gold still gleaming under the lantern light. It’s not even locked, like the owner left it here just for them.

Brooke jumps up beside her, the crew clapping and grabbing jewels as they traipse toward the chest.

“Open it, Brooke!” Nina yells.

Brooke stares at the chest longingly, then shakes her head.

She turns to Vanessa, her eyes brighter than any jewel.

“Vanessa, we wouldn’t have found this without you. Will you open it with me?”

It’s the first time Brooke has called her Vanessa instead of Mateo, and Vanessa knows she’s pulled back all the layers hiding Brooke’s heart and brought it out now. Vanessa’s own heart warms at the musical sound of her name on Brooke’s lips, at Brooke fully recognizing her as an equal. This is Brooke declaring her love, and Vanessa runs to the chest with her.

It’s taken Vanessa years of sailing and a shipwreck to get here, and though she never pictured it like this, it seems right somehow, having Brooke by her side. Their hands brush over the clasp and they unlatch it with a mighty tug, lifting the lid and gasping at the sheer amount of gold before them–coins and cups and rings and necklaces, more than either of them has ever found.

“Everyone gets a share,” Brooke says over the cheers of her crew. “You too,” she whispers to Vanessa.

Vanessa kisses her cheek, and they haul the chest back onto the ship, giddy and laughing over how much money it will get them, how they’ll have enough rations and be able to keep sailing.

Brooke pulls her to the side of the ship where they watch the sun each morning, holding Vanessa’s hands tightly.

Brooke keeps opening and closing her mouth like she’s afraid of what she has to say, and Vanessa squeezes her hands, nods that it’s all right, and Brooke smiles at her.

“Vanessa, I know I said I’d drop you home, and I will.” She takes a breath. “But if you’d like to stay and sail with me–”

“I do,” Vanessa interrupts. Maybe this ship could become her home too, and these people her family. She knows she won’t forget her own crew, or her ship; they’ll always be part of her, running through her veins like the sea.

Brooke grins, pulling her into another hug. “Well, then,” she says, “where to?”

Vanessa doesn’t answer, but just holds Brooke tighter. With the wind in her hair and Brooke by her side, Vanessa will go anywhere.

[visions-from-reaver]

Outlaw Legends

Chapter VII: The Homestead

Back out on the trail the trio crested a hill overlooking a small, cozy looking, homestead. “This is it, gentlemen.” Micah spoke up as he leaned forward on his saddle, eyeing the place like a starved dog would a steak. 

Arthur eyed Micah “You sure about this, Dutch?” He said as he turned to face the leader 

“All we are here for is to see if we can find some supplies and more shelter, that’s all, I don’t plan on killin’ anyone here.” Arthur nodded and turned back to face Micah 

“How many do you reckon are in there?” 

Micah shrugged “Don’t know, all I know is there are quite a few by the sound of things.” Reaver pawed at the ground in agitation, probably due to the cold snow. 

“You’re alright boy.” Arthur said softly as he patted the stallion’s neck.

“Leave the horses here and get out of sight in that shed and behind that wagon. We don’t want to spook anyone who is in there.” 

Micah and Arthur nodded and dismounted their steeds and headed for their hiding spots while Dutch stood just in front of the porch. “Hello in there!” Dutch called out into the storm “Is anyone home?” The music in the house immediately stopped as someone unknown opened the door and stepped outside. 

“What you want?” The stranger, who sounded rather irritated that he had been interrupted, called out to Dutch.

“I am very sorry to disturb you.” Dutch could tell the stranger was not very welcoming “I wouldn’t do this normally but you see, well my friends and I got into some trouble up the way,” Dutch motioned behind him, back up the hill “and we got lost in this awful storm.”

The one who had confronted Dutch came down the stairs to face him properly, just as another man showed up in the doorway. 

“We can’t help you, mister.” The first one spoke out while the other stayed quiet. 

“I got folks dyin’ out on the trail…” Dutch said just as a small rock was thrown at the shed where Arthur was hiding. 

“Arthur, we got a problem.” Micah. Arthur snuck over to the corner of the shed and poked his head slightly over it to see what the problem was. “Arthur, there’s a corpse right here, there’s a body in this wagon.” 

Arthur sighed “I hear you, just...keep an eye on Dutch.” Arthur looked over to see more people coming around from the side of the house, Dutch was getting surrounded. 

“Aw, did you hear that? He said he’s got folks that are dyin’.” The man that was in front of Dutch, mocked him. 

Dutch was becoming a little uneasy “All I need are some cans of food or something…gentlemen, please.” 

The stranger shook his head “I think you should go now, buddy.” Someone else appeared in the window on the second floor, the strangers were drawing their weapons. 

“Now friend...I ain’t askin’ for much…” Dutch started to back away slowly “Please...I am kinda desperate here....”

 BANG! A bullet launched itself from the barrel of Arthur’s Cattleman Revolver and flew straight into the stranger’s skull.

It took a second for the shock to wear off, but the second it did all hell ensued. Dutch dropped his lantern in the snow and drew his own revolvers and began to open fire. “Watch that window Arthur!” Dutch called just as a bullet whizzed past his head as he got behind what cover there was. “Shit, Arthur shoot him!” 

“I see him!” A bullet sailed through the window and into said person’s chest. He went down and didn’t come back up. 

Arthur one is tryin’ to make a break for it!” Arthur started to chase the stranger down and put a bullet in his head. 

“Dammit Arthur, I said I would handle this!” Dutch yelled at him. 

“Didn’t seem like it was goin’ to well to me Dutch, you were bein’ surrounded!” 

Dutch looked down at one of the strangers and cursed “These are O’Driscoll’s boys! What are they doing way out here?” Dutch was shocked and frustrated, he thought he had seen the last of them back in Blackwater. 

“Maybe they are here for the same reason we are?” Micah pondered aloud.

“I don’t know and I don’t care right now, we got more important things to deal with, folks to take care of! Micah, bring the horses down here, Arthur and I will search the cabin!” Micah gave a quick nod and started to trudge back up the hill 

“Hey Micah...watch out for that big stallion! He bites!” Arthur ground out as he followed Dutch inside. 

“Arthur lets turn this place upside down, we need basic essentials, food, medicine...and whiskey, I’ll see if I can find some extra blankets, anything to keep us warm.”

**********

Micah reached the horses and had led The Count and his horse Baylock down to the house, now he was going back up for Reaver. “Alright you big brute, lets go.” Micah reached for the makeshift bridle in order to lead the stallion down to the other two horses. Reaver reared and trumpeted, knocking Micah backward and into the snow. “Hey!” Micah struggled to stand as the black stallion swiftly turned and bolted away into the snow “Dammit, get back here, you stupid beast!” Micah tried to chase after it, but the snow was too deep and he lost sight of him.

Micah cursed and grumbled as he made his way back down to the house, just as Arthur and Dutch made their way outside. 

“Where’s Reaver?” 

Micah sighed “Went to go lead him down here with the others, but the bastard reared and ran off on me.” 

Arthur rubbed a hand down his face and sighed “I told you to be careful.” 

“You told me he bites, not that he’d up and bolt like that! Ain’t my fault your horse is crazy!” 

“He’s ain’t even mine he’s-” 

“Enough! Both of you! Arthur, go see if there is another horse in that barn over there. Micah go into the cabin and search behind us, see if we missed anything, please?” Dutch was annoyed, it was clear by the tone he was using with the two men. 

“Sure.” Arthur said and shivered as he went to check inside the barn “She’s gonna kill me…” Arthur grumbled under his breath as he opened the doors and stepped inside.

He was tackled to the ground the second he made it through the barn doors. “You bastards shot my cousin!” 

Arthur scrambled up off the floor “Yeah well, he started it!” This day just kept getting better and better 

“I’m gonna break your neck!” The stranger jumped at Arthur, but Arthur threw a punch and knocked him backward. 

“You wanna try that again, tough guy?” Arthur taunted “Or are you jus’ gonna run away like your friend out there?” The stranger yelled and tackled Arthur down onto the floor of the barn. They grappled each other for a minute when a voice called in from outside. 

“What’s goin’ on?” It was Dutch, pistol in hand. 

“This guy just jumped me!” 

Dutch laughed “Oh did he now?” 

Arthur got the upper hand and pinned the guy to the floor under him, a hand wrapped around his throat. “Sneaky little bastard, you want me to kill him?” 

Dutch was leaned up against the door frame, smoking one of his prized cigars “No...not yet...find out what they’re doin’ here, and where Colm is.” 

Colm O’Driscoll, one of Dutch Van Der Linde’s worst enemies, besides the law. Dutch and Colm used to run together, that is until things went south between the two. Dutch shot Colm’s brother, and in retaliation, Colm killed Dutch’s lover, a lovely young girl named Annabelle. They have been feuding and killing each other’s gang members ever since, so long in fact that no one really remembers a time when they weren’t fighting. 

“Oh he’ll talk alright.” The grip around the O’Driscoll’s throat tightened and the man coward. “You best start talkin’ boy, if you do, well, I might just let your sorry hide live...whatchu think?” The man nodded 

“Okay okay! I’ll talk, anything you want to know just, don’t kill me please!” 

Arthur grinned, something dangerous flashing in his eyes “Well, where is he?” The man swallowed and shook, either from fear or from the cold, Arthur couldn’t tell, and really didn’t care. 

“He’s with the others! There's an old mining camp just southwest of here near a lake! That’s where you’ll find him!” 

Arthur chuckled “Guess you O’Driscoll boys ain’t as dumb as you look. What are you doin’ up here anyway? I know it ain’t a vacation trip, so what’s the deal?”

The man took too long to answer and Arthur socked him square in the nose “Speak boy, I won’t ask you again!” Arthur’s tone was low, like a growl and the man shook, this time Arthur was certain it was out of fear. 

“Th-There's a train! Colm said it has a lot of money on it, we was gonna blow the tracks! That’s all I know I swear, now please, please, don’t kill me!” 

A deep chuckle came from Dutch as he was leaning against the doorframe “Well, I would say you have this one Arthur. Do what you want with him, I don’t care. But bring that horse when you’re done, you’ll have to use it until we can find that other one.”

“Sure.” Arthur said as Dutch walked off, back to the cabin. “Alright you, get outta here.” Arthur shoved the man down onto the floor and backed away, allowing him to scamper off. “I see you around again I’ll shoot you, you hear?” 

The man scrambled backward away from Arthur and nodded “Yes, clear as crystal, you won’t see me again, no sir!” 

The man ran off, as quick as the snow and the storm would allow him to, and Arthur turned to face the lone horse in the barn. It had been startled by the noise and commotion. “Easy boy...you’re okay.” Arthur slowly opened the stall door and moved near the horse “Shh Shh Shh...it's alright boy.” The horse settled and he patted its neck while grabbing the reins. “Come on, you’re coming with me.” Arthur clicked his tongue and led the horse outside and toward the cabin. 

“You let that boy live? Saw him running off a minute ago!” Dutch shouted over the wind 

“Yeah, figured he wouldn’t get too far in this on his own anyway!” Dutch grunted and motioned to a hitching post near the cabin. 

“Hitch that horse up there and come help me with this stu-” 

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” A scream pierced the night air, it was coming from inside the cabin. Dutch and Arthur didn’t hesitate and rushed inside to quite a sight. Micah was chasing a woman, with long blonde hair around the house, laughing at her. She was screaming and brandishing a large knife, trying to keep Micah away from her. 

“Micah what the hell do you think you’re doin’?!” Dutch yelled at him 

“Look what I found in the cellar! Wild thing ain’t she!” Micah laughed and chased her so she was trapped behind a table, with him on the other side. 

“Leave her alone!” Dutch was trying to maneuver his way around Micah 

“I wasn’t doin’ nothin’! She’s one of those O’Driscoll’s Dutch!” 

“No she ain’t Micah, look at her!” The woman was dressed in nothing but a nightgown. ”Miss! Miss it’s alright!” Dutch was trying his best to calm her down, but the situation only worsened when Micah flipped the table over and sent plates and a burning oil lantern crashing to the floor. The oil spilled and the floor of the cabin lit up in flames. “Oh you fool! Micah!” Dutch wrapped an arm around the man and shoved him backwards toward Arthur while he tried to soothe the woman. “Miss, listen...It is gonna be okay. We mean you no harm.” The woman backed up and held the knife out towards the leader “Miss, please…” Dutch gently took her wrist and pushed her arm down, so he wasn’t in danger of getting stabbed. “Please...come on, it’ll be okay.” 

The flames from the lamp were now licking up the walls, the whole place was going up like a lit match. “We need to get out of here, and quick.” Dutch wrapped his arm around the scared woman’s shoulders and led her towards the door and outside. Once they were safely out of the house Dutch addressed the woman “Are you okay? What happened here?” She shook her head and shivered.

“They came three days ago...and my husband they…” Her words turned into choked out sobs. 

“Listen to me, you are safe now, but you can’t stay here…” Dutch looked back over his shoulder to see the small cabin engulfed in flames. The contrast of the orange flames against the pure white snow was startling and ominous.

Arthur came up behind Dutch “She comin’ back with us then?” Dutch nodded and passed a lamp over to him while he climbed onto The Count. Arthur soothed her as he helped her onto the horse as well “It’s gonna be okay. Now I ain’t gonna lie to you, we are...bad men, but we ain’t them so… it's okay. We’ll keep you safe until you figure out what you wanna do, okay?” She nodded and Arthur climbed onto the back of the new horse he had retrieved from the barn. 

”What’s your name miss?” Dutch asked as they made their way away from the cabin

 “Alder.” She said quietly 

“Adler?” Dutch gently questioned and she nodded 

“Sadie Adler...Misses...I...He...He was my husband...They killed my husband…”

**********

Back at the camp, people were getting restless. “They should have been back by now...Hosea it's been hours.” 

Hosea sighed “I know Ms.Grimshaw, but I trust they will be back here very soon. We’ve got people on watch. They’ll holler if anyone turns up, you and the girls need to get some rest.” 

Ms.Grimshaw sighed in frustration “I’m just worried is all, are you sure we shouldn’t send someone out lookin’ for them?” 

Hosea was about to answer when he heard Lenny, one of the men on guard duty call out. “Someone’s comin’! Looks like it’s Dutch! Everyone, Dutch is back!” 

Hosea let out a relieved sigh “See, I told you they’d be back.” He turned around and headed outside into the weather, Ms.Grimshaw following close behind  “How’d you get on, Dutch?” Hosea said as everyone gathered around the riders and Mrs.Adler. 

“Micah found a homestead, but he weren’t the first. Colm O’Driscoll and his scum, they beat us to it! We found some of them there, but there is more about, apparently.” Dutch grunted as he dismounted The Count and helped Mrs.Adler down as well. “Scoutin’ a train, at least that's what Arthur got out of one of them.”

“That's the last thing we need right now Dutch.” Hosea said disapprovingly, he knew how Dutch was when it came to stealing and robbing, the Blackwater job confirmed it even more. Any talk of money, and Dutch was like a horse chomping at its bit, eager and wanting to gallop away. 

“Well, it is what it is. But we found some supplies, some blankets, a little bit of food, and this poor soul Mrs.Adler.” Everyone turned to look at the scared woman “Ms.Tilly, Ms.Karen would you warm her up? Give her a drink of something? Mrs.Adler it's gonna be okay, you’re safe now.” Dutch said as he passed her off to two of the women of the camp before turning back to Hosea. “They turned her into a widow. Animals. I need to rest, I haven’t slept in three days.” 

Ms.Grimshaw immediately came forward “You’re over here, Ms.O’Shea will show you the way. Mr.Morgan, we put you in a room over here.” She pointed to the cabin where Ms.O’Shea was leading Dutch 

“Thank you Ms.Grimshaw.” 

“Mr.Bell, you’re with the fellas over there.” She pointed to a smaller cabin off to the side. 

Micah immediately started to complain “Wha-? How come Arthur gets a room and I get a bunkbed next to Bill Williamson and a bunch of darkies?” 

“Get yourself to bed!” Hosea snapped at Micah, which sent him scurrying into the cabin.

Once Micah was out of sight Arthur came back to Susan “Where’d you put the kid? I need to talk to her.”

 Susan pointed to the old school house “She’s in there with the other girls, back left corner.” 

Arthur nodded “Thank you, for everythin’.” 

Ms.Grimshaw shook her head “No need to thank me, now get yourself inside, get warm, and get yourself some rest before I beat you!” 

Arthur chuckled “Yes, ma’am.” 

“I mean it Mr.Morgan. Have your conversation, then off to bed with you!” 

Arthur nodded and headed over to the old school house and knocked on the door before entering. “Kid, you awake in here?” He heard shuffling 

“I’m over here, and I’m not a kid, I’m twenty-two for goodness sakes.” 

Arthur tilted his head a little in surprise “Twenty-Two? Seriously? You look younger, you sure you ain’t lyin’ to me?” 

There was a sigh “Why would I lie to you? That’s probably the most foolish decision I could make right now, don’t you think?” 

Arthur pondered that thought for a moment “Not really, you’re out here tryin’ to survive like the rest of us, lyin’ don’t seem all that strange to me.”

She chuckled “Well coming from a group of outlaws I suppose it wouldn’t seem strange.”

That took Arthur off guard  “Outlaws? I never told you we were outlaws…” He heard her say something under her breath 

“I’ll explain later, I promise. If I tell you now your head might explode from what I tell you.” Arthur looked scared and she noticed “Not literally, it's a figure of speech.” 

Now he just looked confused “You ain’t makin’ much sense…” 

She waved him over “Don’t worry about it. What did you need me for anyway?  Something wrong?” 

Arthur looked down as he walked over to her sleeping space “Well, kinda...I um...well I may have lost your horse…” Silence filled the small space “Well technically Micah lost him but either way, he got spooked and ran off, we ain’t seen him since.”

“Micah.” The word was said with such venom that it took Arthur completely off guard. 

“You say that like you hate the guy.” 

She nodded “I do.” 

Arthur paused “You’ve met him?” 

Heather scoffed, “No. But I know a lot about him, and I don’t like him.” 

Arthur frowned, “What else do you know about this gang?” His tone was stern, intimidating even, it was the same tone he used with that O’Driscoll boy back in that barn. 

A chill ran up her spine “I’m no threat to you or anyone here Arthur, I promise you, I also promise you that I will tell you everything in the morning. You, Dutch, and Hosea, okay?” 

Arthur studied the girl for a moment. When he found her in that barn, she seemed harmless enough, but even a snake seems harmless from a distance. “How do I know I can trust you?” 

She sighed and reached into her bag “Here” she said as she pulled out her gun. “Take it and hide it somewhere if you want, heck, take the whole bag if it’ll make you feel better.”

 He nodded and did just that “You tell us what you know, and if we trust you, you can have it back. Deal?” 

She nodded “Deal, now go get some rest, you have got to be exhausted.”

Arthur studied her again for a moment before grunting and hiking the bag onto his shoulder and heading out the door. He went to the cabin just across from the school house and into the room on the right. Dutch and Hosea were already asleep, and that was exactly where he was heading himself.

The room had a bed in the back left corner, the mattress looked rather flimsy but he was willing to take anything at this point. A small nightstand sat at the end of it, with a desk against the back wall that sat under a small window. There was a large shelf in the back right corner of the room, beside the desk and another slightly larger nightstand on the left wall under another small window followed by another, larger, desk.

Arthur set the bag down inside one of the shelves in the right corner before removing his gunbelt and satchel. He removed his Cattleman Revolver from its holster and put it on the desk right next to the bed, just in case he needed it during the night. He didn’t bother stripping down for bed, it was far too cold for that, even with a fire burning in the fireplace just outside in the main room. He sat on the bed, lit a lantern and pulled his old brown leather journal and began to write...

May 1899,

We have been running for weeks, I mean running more than usual. The job they was pulling in Blackwater, robbing that ferry, it turned into a disaster. Young Jenny got killed, poor thing, while Sean and Mac both got arrested, or killed, nobody seems sure which. Dutch shot a girl, I am not too sure if by accident or design, and it seems like it might have been a set up. We took to the hills in an almighty scramble, leaving money and most of our things behind. Then, as we were fleeing east over the Grizzlies, an almighty storm hit us. Davey Callendar, who had got shot in the gut on the raid, passed away. It was brutal to watch, and the rest of us nearly froze, but we found shelter and have been resting here in some old, abandoned mining town while we await the thaw.

Hardly the spring I had been hoping for. Hosea and I had been planning a robbery of our own in Blackwater, but I guess that’s been abandoned along with most of what I owned. I am profoundly concerned as to what happens next, once we leave this place or the law finds us cowering up here. 

Found a girl while I was scouting the place out, she was huddled up in the barn here, with the strangest horse I’ve ever seen. Big black stallion with coal black eyes that turn white when he’s scared, and he’s got teeth that are jagged and sharp as daggers. The girl, or well, woman I should say, since she’s twenty-two, named Heather, said the horse’s name was Reaver, a strange name for a strange horse. She says she's from the future, looked through some of her things, I don’t think she’s lying, but if she ain’t she's got a hell of a lot of explaining to do.

Met another woman up here while Dutch and I went out to find John and Micah. Her husband had been murdered by some of Colm O’Driscoll’s boys, nasty business.

Found Micah but we haven’t found John yet. 

Micah, that’s another mystery with Heather, says she hates him, but she’s never met him, she knows we are outlaws, but I never told her that...That kid is just full of surprises but I do not know if she is dangerous or not, I guess we shall soon find out. She said she would tell me, Dutch, and Hosea everything tomorrow, that’ll be the deciding factor I reckon, but until then I’m keeping her stuff in this room I’m currently holed up in, told her I’d give it back if we deemed her trustworthy. I just hope we make it out of here soon, and that we ALL make it out ALIVE.

Arthur sighed and shut his journal, putting it back into his satchel, before finally laying down and closing his eyes. It was going to be tough surviving out here that was for sure, food would be scarce most likely, and keeping warm would be another issue entirely. But with any luck, a hope, and a prayer, they might just make it off this Godforsaken mountain alive and move back out west, at least, that was the plan that Arthur was hoping for, and what he dreamed of when he finally fell asleep.

[k-renne]

BITTERSWEET DENIAL

Summary: Clyde Logan was in full denial of his feelings, afraid that his curse would end up hurting you. But that doesn't work out when he's pent up in his own need, refusing to accept any help from anyone but his mate

A/N: This is not the full version, you can find the full version on AO3 here where I can tag things properly

Warnings: SM*UT, Monster fuckery

Tags: @thecurlycaptain

“Hey, can ya do me a favor. Can ya go and check up on Clyde? I’m worried about him he’s been wholing himself inside transformed and actin’ all territorial. He didn’t let me go in to bring supplies but I bet he’d let you inside.” Jimmy explained over the phone.

It was a secret that you’d been aware of for a long time, that one of your childhood best friends Clyde Logan was a wolf man. It was a full moon, Jimmy and you tended to keep an eye on Clyde in his time of need.

Jimmy knew you and Clyde were close, and though he wasn’t a big fan of the way his brother avoided his feelings for you, he supported you two nonetheless. Your relationship with Clyde was...complicated. You’ve had each others backs in many types of occurrences, including times of insufferable lonely horniness.

Clyde started acting sorta funny around the full moon, and if he didn’t get any pussy in his system he was in for one wild transformation. But, he didn’t really like bein’ intimate with a lady he didn’t know, he was shy to a lot of folks. Though not to you, so lately you’ve been the one he relied on in his time of need. And you could never say no, not when you loved him so much. Worst thing was after he’d act like nothing happened after, sometimes even distant from you.

Last time, you finally put your foot down. It was hard, because you knew you’d never be able to find anyone who could fuck you like he would.

Your shy friend would turn into a beast, his words so filthy it became pornographic. “Ah sweetheart, c’mon over here I need to eat some of your sweet pussy.” He rasps over the phone, and you can just hear him touching himself, so consumed by his need he loses all sense of shame.

And he would always fulfill his promises, eating you out with an intense hunger before he’d eventually pound you into his mattress, sometimes bending you over the nearest surface as soon as he got you into his place.

You couldn’t even look at the bar counter the same, after one eventful evening where Clyde’s need just came out of nowhere, you the only one there to face the brunt of it as you stayed till closing. You were helping out, cleaning off the counter when he came up behind you to press his need against your backside, licking a stripe along your neck.

Afterwards he wouldn’t make eye contact and would apologize, claiming that, “I’m sorry darlin’ that man just ain’t me, that’s the curse talkin’...I’m not like that.” But the truth was, he was in complete denial.

The curse was a part of him, Clyde was a werewolf not just a few days out of the month but everyday. Still he refused to accept it. Like he tried to bury his desire for you when he couldn’t use the excuse of it being close to a full moon, that he’d probably be just as rough on you and that fact scared him.

It was probably for the best that you decided to stop this madness, even though it made Clyde’s heart break, he knew that you were right. He’d just have to get over that sick feeling that he got from seeing you with another man, he had taken advantage of you enough, he didn’t deserve to have you as his. He wanted to see you happy with someone who wasn’t a monster, and that meant distancing himself.

But in order for that to work, he’d have to find someone else to fuck. And of course, he didn’t. It just didn’t feel right, he didn’t think anyone else could satisfy his need like you could. He’d rather just fuck his hand or his toy. It wasn’t enough though, who was he kidding thinking this pathetic silicon thing could replace your perfect warm, wet, tight pussy. He’d better lock himself in this time, try and stay out of trouble.

“Alright Jimmy, I’ll see what I can do. Hopefully he hasn’t tore up the whole place by now.” You answer on the phone, with a heavy sigh.

“Be careful though, he’s unpredictable when he’s like this. Call me if you need me I don’t want ya to get hurt.” Jimmy warns you.

You hung up, and got ready to deal with Clyde, which involved putting on clothes that you didn’t care about getting clawed and a bunch of extra supplies in your car. As you parked in front of his place you let out a huff, looking to try and see Clyde in his trailer.

You hadn’t seen him fully transformed since you were kids. He didn’t want for anyone besides Jimmy to see him like that nowadays, and with you he was worried that you’d get hurt. And it’d kill him if he ever hurt you, he wouldn’t even be able to look at you anymore.

But, with his wolf brain in control, you were exactly who Clyde Logan wanted to see. You heard whining behind the door as you walked up to it, “Hey it’s alright Clyde, I brought some stuff for you.” You assured him.

Opening the door you were met with a Clyde taller than you’ve ever seen him, covered in fluffy black fur, but a lot less scary than the traditional werewolf you’d expect from a monster movie. A big clawed paw reached out and grabbed you by the shirt, pulling you inside and closing the door behind you.

Inside now, Clyde circled you, sniffing the air around you and the bag of food you held in one hand. “Yes, that’s for us. Steak for you, and Chinese for me. But I didn’t know if you wanted me to leave or-”

Clyde panicked at that, putting his big paw on your shoulder and shaking his head. “Or stay?” You asked, and he let out a little huff of approval. You were surprised that he wanted you to stay, but you were worried about him in such a vulnerable state, so you agreed if only to watch over him.

That’s how you ended up on the couch next to a huge, hulking werewolf, eating Chinese out of the carton as Clyde gnawed on his steak. You had to laugh, because he barely fit on the couch. It seemed tiny compared to him, his legs too long and dwarfing the couch, uncomfortably hunched over next to you.

At your soft laughter Clyde’s ears twitched, and he turned to look at you. “It’s okay big guy, you just eat up.” And he does just that, except faster now. Gobbling up his last steak in one huge bite, his wolf brain determined to do something else. Of course, even in this form he still had some manners, using the remains of his torn shirt like a napkin for his maw and claws.

All of the sudden you had a werewolf’s head in your lap, eyes looking up at you expectantly for some affection. Shaking your head, you pet the top of Clyde’s head between his ears, earning a happy little noise in return. “I don’t know what Jimmy warned me about, you’re just like a big ol’ puppy dog.” You smiled. “You’re kinda cute like this too, handsome even,” You tease him, though you words are truthful.

Clyde growls and jumps up, not liking that he was compared to a puppy. He slowly stalks towards you, until he has you caged in. Baring his teeth at you and lowly growling. “Okay okay, you’re not like a puppy. You’re a big strong, powerful werewolf. Still, you don’t scare me.”

He began to nuzzle you at that, and you put your food to the side to hug him. He’s so big that even kneeling with you sitting on the couch, he’s taller, and your face meets a chest full of fur as he brings you into his arms. You smile though, because for a monster Clyde is incredibly sweet.

[distanceiskillingmetoo-blog]

Brighter - Shawn Mendes (2)

Juliette Petit is a 25 years old French artist, who’s performing at the grammy’s. After meeting one of her best buds after her performance, she met someone new. Everything is history after that.

At first, I wanted it to be a one shot. But I got carried away. English isn’t my mother tongue, so I’m sorry if I made mistakes.

TO JOSIAH: Almost there. See you in a bit.

We got into the house where the party was. The house wasn’t as huge as you could imagine going after the grammy’s but it still was way larger than my flat in London or where I grow up outside of Paris. It was all black and white inside. Good decorations everywhere.

“I don’t know to whom this house is, but it’s beautiful!” “Let’s find some booze Juliette, we’re here to party!”

We all listened to Luke and went to the kitchen to find some drinks. As we entered the kitchen, I received a text from Josiah, saying he was in the kitchen, pooring us something.

“The one I wanted to see!” I said to him. “Juliette! I’m so happy you could come.” He said hugging me. “How are you?” Still recovering from tonight?“ "I am more than ok. And I’m ready for a night to remember!” “That’s my girl!” Josiah and it made me smiled.

“As I didn’t get to see you since it finally happened, then congrats on your engagement with Sami! Let’s drink to that my friend.” I said with a big smile on my face.

“Yess dude,” Alex said, “you have to know, that when Sami called her to tell her, she just cried in her bunk.” “Alex that’s mean. You all know I am a loser for love, always was, always will be.” “Don’t worry Juliette, it’s ok!” “Can I sing to your wedding?”

“I guess we will have to share the stage then!” said a manly voice I didn’t recognize at first coming from behind me. But as soon as I turned around I got it. “Hi, I’m Shawn. You guys were great tonight!” He said while greeting everyone. “Hi dude, I’m Alex!” “Luke!” “Tony!” “I’m Juliette and I’m sure we can share the stage for him! You will probably have him to yourself at his bachelor party!”

“You can come as well, if you want. It can be interesting having a girl to a bachelor party!” “I’m sorry, I don’t want to see anything what his friends can do for his bachelor night! It can be messy!” I laughed. “But I can’t wait to see all the pictures!” Everyone laughed.

“Shawn, Juliette here, is one of my dearest friends.” Josiah said. “and those dudes are her brothers from other mother!” “I am indeed. That’s me!” I smiled. “Yep I wouldn’t be where I am without them with me on tour!”

“Welcome to you guys, and to you dearest friend of Josiah ! Make yourself comfortable in this house better known as mine for a little while.” “No way it’s your house?” asked Luke.

“Yep! As I’m working on my new album in LA for a bit, I decided to rent a house, because being in a hotel is not what I prefer when I stay for a few months in a city.” We all agreed with him. “Don’t want to sound rude or anything…” I said with a big smile. “But I heard it was a party, and I want to drink and do a karaoke. Who’s in?” “Juliette I’m so in!” Josiah answered drinking his beer. “Let’s do our song right now!” “J, a lot of songs are our songs to do at the karaoke. Which one first?” “The only one that matters obviously!”

We let the others in the kitchen, and we went to the living room to get ready to do our karaoke. The intro of the song began. All the friends of Josiah decided to watch us. We were so into our characters that we didn’t care if people were laughing at us. I sang the first verse of Livin’ On ThePrayer.

While I was singing, Josiah was dancing and when it was his turn to sing, I was the one dancing as well. But once we hit the chorus, we totally lost it. We were out of control. At the end of the song we both were out of oxygen. All the people in the living room cheered for us and a lot of them recorded us.

“You can post it everywhere you want, seriously! Josiah it was our best performance on this song like ever!”

“Juliette, I didn’t know you were capable of being that crazy!” “Josiah, when you crawled on the floor, I thought you were gonna break something!” We laughed. “That was something!” Shawn said. “Just so you know guys, you are on my stories. That was so good to not share it with the world!” “Huh huh ! Sami is calling me, I should answer her!” “Tell her I miss J please!” “No problem Juliette, see you in a bit!”

Josiah left Shawn and me in his living room. I looked at him.

“What?” “I really didn’t think you were that tall. And I’m not little.” “Okay.” He laughed. “I know, that was random!” “I like random! It’s better than being too cheesy I think.” “I can be cheesy when I want to, don’t worry Mendes!” I said laughing. “So how did you meet Josiah?”

“I first met Josiah at warped tour in 2015. It was my first time playing this festival, or for that matter it was my first time in America!” “At a festival you were playing then!” “Yes, Sami went to talk to me, saying she loved my music, I was speechless like I always was after meeting people during this summer.” I laughed.“I was this awkward french girl who was far away from home playing her music and we talked about music all the three of us, and we even got to see some of the bands all three of us loved together. This day was amazing. And yeah since then, we became friends.”

“That’s a sweet story to hear!” “He is one of my best friend. I know I can count on him, no matter what.” I smiled. “But now thanks to you, I don’t get to see him often.” I joked. “I don’t want to lose him. He knows how to capture that beauty out of me!” “He’s talented that’s true!” “Ouch, that hurts!” He said putting his right hand on his heart. “You could have been cheesy saying that I didn’t need anyone to help me showing my beauty!” “As if you needed me to tell you that!” “True, I know I’m a beautiful young man!” “Don’t be so sure of yourself Mendes” We laughed.

We kept talking about Josiah. He shared stories of them and I did the same. We were in the kitchen still drinking.

“So what’s next for Shawn Mendes?” “I’ll begin my world tour in Europe in march and after it’s the US, Canada, a few weeks off then Australia, New Zealand, a few weeks off and South America and that’s it and it will be 2020.” He laughed. “Wow busy schedule!” “Yeah, I know it’s going to be hard sometimes, but it’s worth it. You know what I mean. I’m living my dream!” I smiled. “What about you Juliette?” “Not as busy as you, as my next tour is in the US in 4 months, and after I’ll be be touring around Europe. So until my tour this summer, I’ll work on my next album and enjoy my friends and family.”

“Can’t wait to hear your new songs!” He smiled. “Maybe I could hear something before anyone else?” “Not happening!” “Come on…” “Okay, I’m just gonna say a few lyrics to you, but I won’t sing, just recite. So…” I took a bit of air, to be less anxious as I always was before talking about a song who wasn’t ready just yet. “Have you searched for something deeper out of fear that life’s a lonely road ? Have you roamed the darkest corners of the earth until you’re just a ghost ?” “Wow…Is it the chorus?” “I don’t think so, yet. I think it’s gonna be more like a verse. I have the chorus stuck in my head, but I can’t put words on it just yet.”

-

It’s been a week since the grammy’s. I was back in London town. I was at the platform of the underground to go to the studio. We were lucky, because the weather we had at the moment was beautiful, it was sunny et quite warm for February. Everyone seemed to bein a happier mood. It was great to witness. I was listening to My Chemical Romance while rereading for the hundred times Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire when my phone buzzed.

FROM SHAWN: I hope I don’t wake you up, but I hope you have finished this song. I need to hear it asap.

I came back to London 3 days after the party at his home, and we talked about music since then, by whatsapp, message, twitter or instagram. It depends. He evenhelped me a bit on the song I told him aboutat the party.

TO SHAWN: on my way to the studio to record it. Hopefully it won’t turn bad.

FROM SHAWN: ’m sure it will be amazing

-

After leaving the booth for the last time, I got on the couch and sighed. “I’m so exhausted, but happy!” “This song is amazing Juliette!” Luke said. “Look at my hands because of the drums! But it was worth it, this song is so great!”

After working on it all day, it was over. Paralyzed was finished and I couldn’t be more proud of this one. It was perfect. Alex, Luke and Tony worked their ass off on this one today. I know this song will be on the setlist in no time. Hopefully the fans will love it as much as I do, as we all do.

“Thank you Luke! Shawn will be so happy about it being finished!” “Shawn huh!” Tony teased me. “Stop using this voice with me! He’s great but that’s all! He helped me with this song.” “Yeah right. You know we could have helped you with the song, girl.” “Luke seriously, it means nothing. Plus he’s so young. It would be weird…” “Ah!” Luke pointed his index at me. “So you thought about it!” “I mean guys, have you seen him? Of course I thought about it. I wouldn’t have been me, if I didn’t!” I laughed. “He’s not even 21 yet, and I’ll be 26 this year. So 5 years it’s too much.” “You could be known as the hottest and youngest cougar!” “Boys!” I laughed, “Leave me alone with this. Nothing is happening I swear. We’re just talkingabout music. Leave it at that please.” I took my phone, which was in my back pocketand I send a text to Shawn.

TO SHAWN: It’s done. Paralyzed is done.

****************

Hope you liked it :)

Paralyzed is once again a song of the band Against The Current.

If you want to listen to it : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvVhUo-PvVI

xx

[seojvns]

everything you didn’t care to know about seojun yoon. 

basic statistics.

full name: seojun yoon. 

nickname: jun, junnie, seo. 

how'd they get it?: they’re just... variations of his name...

age: twenty one. 

date of birth: april 27th. 

zodiac: taurus. 

gender: male. 

sexual orientation: pansexual. 

when did they realize this?: around the age he started being interested in people. it’s never been something he’s struggled with, it’s jus how things were/are. 

nationality: american.

hometown: daejeon, south korea.

current residence: cortland, wisconsin.

occupation: freelance photographer. 

for how long?: umm, probably since high school?? he started out doing it for free, to build his resume, and over time he began building it into something he could actually make money from. not much, but !! getting paid for doing something he loves?? really couldn’t ask for more than that. 

do they like his/her job?: obvs!!! does he wish he could have a lot more clients?? ya, but he’s patient and he’s got the time. 

salary: mm, depends on the job but probably anywhere from $150-250/job. 

family.

any significant ancestors?: ummmm, no. 

grandparents (describe relationship): he was really close to his grandmother, on his mom’s side, who passed away a few years ago. he’s close to his grandfather from that side too, but he’s a bit old fashioned in his views and sometimes conversations are... not really something he can take much from. but he likes his company, and overall they have a good relationship. his grandparents on his father’s side both died before he really got a chance to even know them. 

aunts/uncles (describe relationship): there’s definitely a distance. when he was younger, he’d see more of them, and his cousins too, but as he grew up... it became less of a tradition his parents and his aunts/uncles bothered to keep up with. he sees them at family gatherings, usually around holidays, but that’s about it. 

parents (describe relationship): there’s a lot of distance between him and his parents. his father’s always been distant, even at a young age he wasn’t very invested in seojun. but he’d buy him things, assuming that was a decent enough way to show his ‘love,’ but it only made seojun resentful of the money he tried to use in an attempt to get out of actually caring or showing interest. his mother, on the other hand, cared. but only when he was young. from the time he was adopted, at age five, until about eleven. after that she became more disinterested in him. she also started nitpicking him a lot?? like no snacks, finding a poem and critiquing it, etc. support wasn’t something he was given, which is why he’s become such a desperate lil people pleaser. 

are they still together?: yes, yep. 

what is the character's family life like: it was really lonely growing up, cause even if everyone was home they’d all be off doing their own things. usually seojun was in his room writing, or out exploring and taking photos. he probably would’ve found his way to his hobbies regardless, but their neglect definitely encouraged him to explore them in a way he might not have done much sooner. 

what does their family love most about them?: hmm, probably his manners. he’s a good boy and he’d never embarrass them or anything when they drag him to events or parties, so, yeah! 

hate?: they see him as too shy, and lacking of a personality, but really that’s just because they’ve kind of made him feel like he should just keep quiet and do what he’s told :/ and that’s exactly what he does. 

does the family have a specific set of values?: his parents are very much the type of people who want everything to look perfect on the outside, and not care much about how they actually are on the inside. 

what would their family be described like by another person?: reserved, well put together, successful. 

have they ever had any pets?: he did! he had a dog, a samoyed, which he got from his parents for his seventh birthday. his name was ghost,, original, i know!

what happened to them?: he died a few years ago :/ it was a rly rough time for jun, who basically had him throughout his entire childhood. 

relationships.

are they a virgin?: umm, nope. 

how did they lose it?: i’m embarrassed just thinkin abt it. 

have they ever cheated on a partner?: never would he ever!!! 

has a partner ever cheated on them?: probably. 

how did they react?: better question - did he ever find out? doubtful. 

who was their first crush?: hard to say :/ he gets a new crush everyday :/ 

are they in any kind of romantic relationship?: no!! 

how serious/relaxed is it?: hmph. 

describe the relationship with their current partner: this is... pointless... 

how did they meet?: why ask so many questions based on the POTENTIAL of him bein in a relationship... 

who made the first move?: prob not seojun in any situation ... he’s not very bold 

how does your character truly feel about their partner?: this.... is so redundant... 

when did they realize this?: thank u, next! 

who is your characters closest friend?: minnie uwu 

how did they meet?: umm they’ve been bffs for as long as seojun can remember okay!!! so how they met is just one of those things he doesn’t... rly remember bc it feels like he’s known her his WHOLE entire life, u know?? 

why do they get along so well?: because they’re both cute and soft and they just vibe together well ok,, why question these things?? there’s been so many late nights up talking about anything n everything, so many heartbreaks that she’s been there for, so many adventures they’ve had n have yet to have... she’s his other half!!! <333 

describe relationship with any other significant friends: adrian’s one of the most important ppl to him ?? like ever?? cause he’s jun’s best friend but also a lot more than that. even though they can’t seem to get things right, he’s always gonna have feels for adrian. kian......... gross where do i even begin!!!! seojun would literally die for kian. he’s more than his roomie ok seojun’s so disgustingly attached that no matter what kian did he’d never leave his side lmao #dedicated. jiwon is who seojun would be if he could choose his life sjfsfks she’s jus so,, uwu perfect n everything he aspires to be. he LUVS her even tho she can lowkey be a lil scary?? not in like a way that he’s legit scared but like... she can be intimidating a lil bit. rt if u agree

favorites.

favorite foods: sushi, korean fried chicken, fries. 

least favorite food: black licorice, celery. 

favorite colors: pale yellow and light pink. 

least favorite color: whatever the fuck u call the color blue that tumblr chose for the new bg color fksdjfs

music: pop, r&b. 

literature: mysteries!! 

smell: honeysuckles, bonfires, fresh bread. 

feeling: affection uwu

season: autumn. 

pets: dogs, but... he loves cats too :/ 

place: hmm, he’s really drawn to the woods?? like when he was younger he’d go into the woods with his camera and a book and just spend all fucking day out there. there’s something really peaceful about it ?? and there’s just so much to experience... the woods jus make him soft, k?? 

favorite sport(s): huh

possession this character values most: his camera!!!!!!!! his journals filled with poems about everyone he knows. 

why is it so important to them?: um, his camera is p obvious?? his poetry filled journals, well, that’s p obvious too. he doesn’t want to forget how he felt in the moments where he was inspired to write whatever he wrote. 

physical characteristics.

height: 5′8′‘. 

weight: 130 lbs. 

body build: slim. 

eye color: brown. 

glasses or contact lenses?: contact lenses, but sometimes he’ll wear his glasses when he’s feelin’ lazy. 

hair color: naturally it’s black, but he prob keeps it either light pink or blond.  

scent: tbh idk what to answer for this, describing someone’s natural scent... hard. 

voice: he’s got a soft voice :/ 

mannerisms: says ‘um’ and ‘uh’ too much, whining about nothing, watching anything/everything with subtitles, turns the tab on a soda can sideways. 

style: comfy clothing mostly?? like loose fitting tops and form fitting bottoms. 

how do they walk?: like a fucking model tbh??? 

what are their nervous tics: he’s blushing 99% of the time tbh,, nose scrunches, averting his gaze 

usual body posture: umm, i’d say he’s got p good posture?? idk,,

preferred clothing.

underwear: boxer briefs babey!

shirts: loose!! t-shirts, flannels, hoodies. anything oversized. 

pants: usually black jeans, like, 9 times out of 10. 

skirts: nah. 

jackets: more oversized shit. 

shoes: prob jus black boots? 

accessories: earrings, rings, make up. make up isn’t an accessory rly but i dunno where else to put that so yayuh that’s a thing. 

formal wear: umm he’s a classic black suit kinda guy, prob w a bowtie, idk. 

sleeping wear: t-shirts and boxer briefs,, do ppl ... actually have real pajamas? like in real life? 

swimming wear: swim trunks ig?? weird question but ok. 

intellectual/mental/personality attributes and attitudes.

did they go to school?: ya, duh. 

where?: west bridge!!! 

what did they learn?: he’s studying photography :-)

what were their grades like?: uh, they’re alright... could be better... he wants to do better but his focus is usually just... anywhere but where it should be. so he procrastinates, and turns in things late a lot, and still is trying to do better. 

native language: korean. 

do they know any other languages?: english. 

how smart are they?: not... very... both book smart and street smart. 

what is their strengths?: creativity, generosity, compassion. 

weaknesses?: time management, insecurity, awareness. 

character's short-term goals in life: don’t go to jail, pass all classes. 

character's long-term goals in life: have a lil photography studio and live happily ever after uwu

how does your character see themselves?: umm, he’s self aware enough to know that he’s kind of sheepish?? he feels like he’s probably awkward in,, so many situations, rip, but he tries his best to not be too weird skfjs 

how does your character believe they are perceived by others?: as a soft boy who wants to be everyone’s friend?? hopefully?? 

how self-confident is your character?: UM LOL NOT AT ALL

what makes their self-confidence waver?: everything,, he just never feels like he’s good enough?? prob because of his mom’s nitpicking, his parents’ lack of interest generally, and the fact that he just has a low self esteem overall. 

what would embarrass your character the most?: being put on the spot about anything, having too much attention, falling for someone who doesn’t like him. 

how does your character feel about love: he!! loves love!!! he rly thinks that there’s someone out there for everyone... maybe not in a ~soulmates~ sense, but he thinks that companionship is a big part of happiness.

about crime: he doesn’t commit crimes... often... but if he does it’s because he can be talked into almost anything. 

people of a different sexuality?: loves everyone, thanks. 

different nationality/race?: loves everyone, thanks. 

how does your character show affection/love?: listening to them n remembering things they’re told, hand holding, doing literally anything they ask. 

how does your character handle grief? not well. especially in the case of manon, which has left him with a terrible sleeping pattern and the heavy feeling of guilt. 

what are they like when they cry?: prob like really dramatic,, like cry a lot while curled up in his bed under the covers kinda cry. 

what can make them cry?: betrayal, loss, anxiousness, stress. 

how does your character handle physical pain?: not well, he probably whines a lot and pouts even more. 

emotional pain?: even worse. he’s so forgiving that even if someone hurt him emotionally, he’d forgive them, but he’d probably be lowkey sad (but in a self blame kind of way) about it for awhile.

is your character typically a leader or a follower?: big time follower. 

what kind of energy level does your character typically display?: soft, upbeat, 

describe their sense of humor: prob either lame or softly sarcastic. 

hobbies: takin pics, writing poems, making playlists for people that’ll never hear them, watching shows instead of studying. 

talents: ...takin pics, writing poems, making playlists for people that’ll never hear them...

extremely unskilled at: focusing! and sports. 

if any, what musical instruments can they play?: piano :-) 

emotional characteristics.

how does the character relate to others?: through soft interactions and deep conversations. he’s pretty honest and open, so if someone asks him something, or even just talks to him, chances are he’s being as open with them as he would be with his close friends. 

how does the character deal with anger?: not well, but when he’s angry, he’s usually more upset than angry? and he wants to resolve things as quickly as possible, otherwise he’s stressed abt it until it’s fixed. 

with sadness?: listens to sad music and cries in the shower. drama queen. 

with conflict?: he’s always the first to apologize. 

with change?: he’s actually pretty adaptable for the most part?? but if it were like a major change, maybe not as good. 

with loss?: ummm, could be better!! probably gets a lil distant when he’s dealing with a loss. 

what does your character want out of life?: happiness :/ 

what would your character like to change in his/her life?: the whole manon thing JFKLSF

what motivates your character?: his future, or at least the ideal future he has in mind for himself. 

what frightens your character?: the fact that they could get caught for covering up a murder perhaps??? terrifying. 

are they afraid of the dark?: ...yes, but he acts like he isn’t cause he’s embarrassed. 

death?: not really?? like he doesn’t WANT to die or anything, but he’s not afraid of death.

what makes your character happy?: listening to good music, giving people things that make him think of them, the photo editing process. 

sad?: being alone, the fact that his parents never care to check up on him, films where the main couple doesn’t end up together.

angry?: people being rude to his friends, being lied to, unnecessarily passive aggressive people. 

aroused?: neck kisses, being called baby, someone who’s rly direct and just kind of... does what they want skjfsl 

annoyed?: people who speak over other people.

guilty?: covering up a potential murder, turning things in late, lying. 

is your character judgmental of others?: no. even if he doesn’t agree with their opinions/things they do he still tries to refrain from judgment. 

is your character generous or stingy?: generous af. 

is your character generally polite or rude?: polite!! angel boy. 

optimistic or pessimistic?: optimistic. 

introvert or extrovert?: lil bit of both?? 

daredevil or cautious?: cautious. 

logical or emotional?: emotional lmao. 

disorderly and messy or methodical and neat?: he thinks he’s methodical and neat but he’s actually disorderly and messy. 

would they rather be working or relaxing?: working, even though he thinks he’d rather be chillin he’s kind of terrible at doing nothing. 

how do they feel about animals?: um... he loves them?? he’s the kind of person that’d accidentally let a raccoon in his house and let it stay. 

what is their best quality?: his sincerity. 

what is their biggest flaw?: how trusting he is. 

[thelastspeecher]

NaNoWriMo ‘17 Day 19 - Birds of a Feather

Day 01   Day 02   Day 03   Day 04   Day 05   Day 06   Day 07   Day 08 Day 09   Day 10   Day 11   Day 12   Day 13   Day 14   Day 15   Day 16 Day 17   Day 18   Day 19   Day 20   Day 21   Day 22   Day 23   Day 24 Day 25   Day 26   Day 27   Day 28   Day 29   Day 30

Summary: A new phoenix joins the flock.  [Phoenix Enchantment AU] Word count: 3042

               Crack!  Angie’s head jerked up.  

               “What was that?” she chirped blearily.  Stan looked over.  

               “I think somethin’ hit the window.”

               “What?”

               “I’ll go check,” Stan said.  He nuzzled her.  “Watch the egg while I’m gone, babe.”

               “You got it,” Angie mumbled. She nestled down again and yawned. Stan looked at his three daughters, who were at the food stand.  

               “Girls, keep an eye on your ma. She’s still weird ‘cause of the pain meds.”

               “Of course, Dad,” Danny chirped.  “We promised we’d help out, since the latest egg was difficult.”

               “Thanks.”  Stan took off.  He flew downstairs, reaching the front door at the same time Fiddleford did.  Stan landed on his brother-in-law’s shoulder.

               “You heard it too?” Fiddleford asked.  Stan bobbed his head.  “Well, let’s see what it was.”  Fiddleford stepped outside.  Spread-eagled on the front porch, visibly severely disoriented, was a male phoenix. Stan felt his feathered crest begin to instinctively rise.  He left Fiddleford’s shoulder and landed next to the stranger.  

               “Buddy, what’s goin’ on here?” Stan squawked.  The phoenix looked at him.

               “Huh?” the phoenix burbled. Stan puffed his feathers up.

               “Look, my kids are too young to get any mates yet, okay?  I don’t know how it works with phoenixes, but I grew up human, so I don’t like the idea of my daughters getting married off when they’re still teens.”

               “I’m not-” the phoenix started.

               “And you better not be here for Angie, either!” Stan cawed. “She’s got a mate already.”

               “Stanley, leave him be!” Fiddleford said.  Stan frowned at Fiddleford.

               “I’ve gotta protect my flock, Fidds!” Stan said firmly.  “Angie’s spoken for, and the girls-”

               “I have no clue what yer sayin’, but ya clearly haven’t recognized this here phoenix,” Fiddleford said.  Stan blinked. “It’s Lute!”

               “What?!” Stan screeched.  He looked back at the stranger.  The phoenix was getting to his feet, stumbling as he did so.  “That can’t be right.”

               “Look at him,” Fiddleford insisted.

               “I mean, yeah, Lute left this mornin’ and we haven’t heard from him, but-”

               “Lord, it’s weird to understand the chirpin’ and squawkin’,” the strange phoenix interrupted.  Stan froze.

               “No fucking way.  Lute?” Stan croaked.  The phoenix nodded.  “How the hell did that happen?”

               “I did what everyone told me not to do,” Lute said softly.  “I went to find a way to break the enchantment.”

               “Lute!” Stan squawked.

               “My baby sister almost died!” Lute screeched.  “She almost died, ‘cause she’s stuck as a bird, and bein’ a bird means layin’ eggs.  And one of her eggs was bound.  Stanley, ya understand how scared and worried I am ‘bout Angie.  Can ya blame me fer tryin’ to fix things?”

               “Even if she was human, childbirth doesn’t always go right,” Stan pointed out.

               “Yeah, but if she was human, she’d have a proper doctor.  She wouldn’t have to go to a vet.”  Lute drooped. “I was so angry, I ignored everything I got told, and now my poor parents have two children who are birds.”

               “The two of ya are clearly havin’ an illuminatin’ conversation,” Fiddleford said, “but I can’t understand any of it.  Stan, mind grabbin’ Molly to translate, since you and Angie won’t be turnin’ human fer a bit?”  Stan nodded. “I’ll bring Lute on in and start checkin’ him over.”  Fiddleford looked Lute up and down.  “Hmm, looks like he might’ve broken a wing.”

               “Go figure,” Lute muttered.

----- 

               Molly walked into the kitchen with Stan on her shoulder.  Ford and Fiddleford were examining a very grumpy Lute on the kitchen table.

               “Can you stretch your wing out for me?” Ford asked.  Lute did as he was told, letting out a small caw of pain.  

               “You guys need a translator?” Molly asked, taking a seat at the table.

               “Howdy, Miss Molly,” Lute croaked weakly.  Molly shook her head.

               “Uncle Lute, you know better.”

               “I was-”

               “Dad told me you were worried about Mom.  But you should’ve talked to us about it!  If you had, you might not be joining the flock.  I mean, I’m kinda glad to have another phoenix around that isn’t my sibling or parent, but there’s no way you’re happy about this.” Lute chirped dejectedly.

               “Wait, what’s goin’ on?” Fiddleford asked.  “Lute got turned into a phoenix ‘cause he was worried ‘bout Angie?”

               “Yeah.  Apparently, he was upset that Mom’s last egg was bound, and it made her so sick.  So he decided to track down a way to get the enchantment undone.”

               “Lute Everett McGucket,” Fiddleford said in a low voice.  “Molly’s right.  Ya do know better!”  Lute cringed. “We warned ya that messin’ with the enchantment wouldn’t end well.  And we told ya that Angie’s fine!  The only thing what made the situation was so scary was ‘cause Angie couldn’t find anyone to translate fer her when things started goin’ wrong with the egg.  Even then, she figured it out, and got the message across.”  Lute looked down at his feet, hunched in on himself.

               “Lay off!” Stan squawked, noticing how Lute was wilting.  Molly winced.

               “Dad, not right in my ear.”

               “Sorry, rooster,” Stan cooed.

               “What did Stan just say?” Ford asked.

               “He wants you guys to stop being so hard on Uncle Lute,” Molly explained.

               “He already feels bad, stop makin’ him feel worse,” Stan added.

               “Uncle Lute already knows he messed up, so you’re just making him feel worse,” Molly said.  Fiddleford sighed.

               “Yer right, Stan.”  Fiddleford stroked Lute’s back.  “Sorry, lil brother.”

               “I really did mess up,” Lute crowed.  “I’m so sorry.”

               “He says he’s sorry.”

               “Aw, Lute, it’s okay.  Yer not the first fam’ly member what’s been turned into a phoenix,” Fiddleford said gently. He grimaced.  “Even though that doesn’t seem like somethin’ we should be so familiar with.  We’ll get ya settled in with the rest of the flock, up in the aviary.”

               “It’s really nice up there,” Molly said.  “Humans might not appreciate it, but Uncle Fidds and Uncle Ford did an excellent job on making it a good ecological match for phoenixes.”  

               “I- I don’t know how to be a phoenix,” Lute said.  

               “What, do you think Angie and I did when we first got turned?” Stan chirped.  “Hell, when Molly hatched, we didn’t know what to do.  We just stared at her until she started screaming, and then we realized she was hungry.”

               “Wait, really?” Molly asked.  She crossed her arms.  “You never told me that story.”

               “What story?” Ford asked.

               “Apparently, Mom and Dad didn’t know what to do when I hatched, until I started making noise, and they figured out I was hungry.”

               “I remember that,” Fiddleford said.  “Lord, the look on Stan and Angie’s faces when they realized ya wouldn’t eat whole food.  Even though we didn’t know Pele and Prometheus were, y’know, people, I still thought it was amusing.  They looked so lost durin’ yer first week of life, Molly.”

               “Why did Stan tell that story?” Ford asked.

               “Uncle Lute says he doesn’t know how to be a phoenix.”  Molly rolled her eyes.  “Honestly, Mom and Dad barely know how to be phoenixes now.  During the first migration, I had to explain to them what was going on, and I was only eight years old!”

               “Once the instincts kick in, things ‘ll be easier,” Stan said reassuringly.  Lute nodded, a bit calmer.

               “All right, looks like a broken wing, fractured rib, and a host of various bumps and bruises,” Ford said.  “We’ll patch you up and then send you to the aviary to recuperate.”

               “Yer goin’ to want to build a nest to relax in,” Fiddleford said to Lute. Lute stared at his older brother.

               “…How do I do that?” Lute asked sheepishly.

               “He asked how you build a nest,” Molly translated.  Fiddleford groaned.  “Uncle Lute, Danny and I can set up a nest for you, since Dad’s gotta take care of Mom.”

               “Thank you, sweetling,” Lute chirped.  

               “It’ll be nice, actually,” Fiddleford said.  “Lute, you can keep Angie company, and Stan can get back to patrollin’ the forest.  Angie’s goin’ to be off the pain meds soon, so she won’t need to be babied no more.  But she’ll still be brooding, so it’ll be lonely up there.”

               “It would be nice to spend some time with my lil sister,” Lute said.

               “Uncle Lute’s on board,” Molly said.  There was a loud squawk from upstairs.  “And Daisy says the dishes in the aviary are out of crickets.”

               “You know where they are,” Ford said.  “You can take care of it yourself.”

               “Fine,” Molly groaned.  She got up and walked over to the fridge to rummage around in it.

               “Goldarn, I have to eat bugs now?” Lute muttered.  Stan shrugged.

               “You get used to it.”

----- 

               Angie yawned and opened her eyes.

               “Mornin’,” Stan chirped at her. Angie smiled.  She nuzzled her mate.

               “Mornin’.  Lord, I slept a lot yesterday, didn’t I?”

               “Yeah, you did.”

               “If you’ll watch the egg fer a bit, I think I’m up fer gettin’ some food,” Angie said.  

               “You got it,” Stan said. Angie hopped onto the edge of the nest and spread out her wings, preparing to take off.  She froze upon catching sight of a strange phoenix dozing fitfully in a nest near the food stand.

               “Who is that?!” Angie screeched. She scrambled back into the nest to cover the egg again.

               “Angie, relax,” Stan said.

               “There’s a stranger in our home! What’s goin’ on?”

               “Chill,” Stan chirped at her.  Angie stared at the strange phoenix.  He was awake now, but hunkered down in the nest in an attempt to make himself as small as possible.

               “How can ya expect me to chill, when there’s someone here we don’t know?  What if he goes after the egg?”

               “Babe, he won’t.”

               “Lord, what if he’s here to court the girls?”

               “What?!” the stranger squawked.

               “Angie, I told ya that Lute was movin’ in with us,” Stan said.  Angie blinked.  

               “…That’s Lute?”

               “Yeah, it is.  He tried to mess with enchantment, and got turned into a phoenix for it.”

               “Lute?” Angie trilled at the phoenix.  Lute nodded.  “What made ya do that?”

               “Yer last two eggs haven’t gone very well,” Lute croaked.  “I wanted to help ya out by turnin’ ya back human.”

               “Oh, Lute,” Angie chirped softly.

               “I told ya about it yesterday,” Stan said to his mate.  “Don’t you remember?”  Angie scratched her cheek with one of her large talons.  

               “I thought that was a dream.  I was pretty loopy yesterday.”

               “I wish it was a dream,” Lute said.  He sighed.  “Fidds said he’s goin’ to call Ma and Pa today, to tell ‘em that two of their children are now birds.”

               “I wonder if Ford ‘ll give ya one of his weird names,” Angie chirped.  “If yer really joinin’ the flock, he prob’ly will.”

               “Yet another thing to look forward to,” Lute drawled sarcastically.  “Bugs, a weird name, bein’ data fer Ford’s research, lessons from my own nieces and nephew-”

               “Lessons?” Angie interrupted.

               “It seems like Lute’s instincts aren’t kicking in like they did for us,” Stan said.  “The girls, Emmett, and I are gonna help him out.  He’s definitely gonna want flying lessons, so that he doesn’t crash into any more windows.”

               “In my defense, I was discombobulated,” Lute said.  There were footsteps on the stairs.

               “Uncle Lute left this morning?”  Tate’s voice carried up to the aviary.

               “Yes.  Somethin’ came up back home, so he had to leave ‘fore ya got up.  He was disappointed he didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to you in person,” Fiddleford replied.

               “I understand,” Tate said, sounding disappointed.  He and Fiddleford arrived at the aviary, Tate carrying a large container of bird food.  “Hey, birds.”

               “Tate!” Emmett squeaked excitedly, hopping onto the edge of the nest he shared with Danny and Daisy.  

               “Hello to you, too, Percy,” Tate said with a grin.  He walked over to Stan and Angie.  “How are you feelin’, Pele?  Better?” he asked, stroking Angie’s back.  Angie cooed softly.  “Sorry I didn’t visit sooner.  Dad wouldn’t let me come here while you were recuperating, and when I tried to sneak up anyways, your mate kept chasin’ me away.”

               “Keepin’ you away was one of the few things I agreed with Fidds and Ford on,” Stan crowed.  

               “Oh, Lord, I forgot,” Lute muttered.  “Tate thinks everyone up here’s just a bird, doesn’t he?”  Tate turned around.  His eyes widened.

               “Pa, you didn’t tell me you guys picked up another phoenix!  When did that happen?”

  ��            “Careful, Tater Tot,” Fiddleford said, grabbing Tate before he could approach Lute’s nest.  “Yer father and I found him just yesterday.  He’s not goin’ to be as civil as Pele and Prometheus are.”

               “He doesn’t seem too wild.  And anyways, I’m good with birds,” Tate said dismissively, shaking his arm free from Fiddleford’s grasp.  Fiddleford looked meaningfully at Lute.  Lute let out a half-hearted hiss.

               “See?” Fiddleford said.

               “He didn’t mean that.”

               “Come on, Lute!” Stan squawked. Lute abruptly puffed his feathers up and screeched loudly at Tate.  Tate blanched.

               “Okay, yeah, he’s serious.  I guess you’re right about not messin’ with him yet.  Is he gonna be joinin’ the flock?”

               “Yes.”

               “Cool!”  Tate frowned at Lute.  “Wait, why’s he so big?  I thought male phoenixes were small.”

               “We don’t have much data to go off,” Fiddleford said, “since, before this feller showed up, we’d only examined one adult male, and the other male, a juvenile, has stunted growth from gestational stress.”  Angie let out a small chirp.  “But yer father and I think that the new phoenix and Prometheus are opposite ends of the size spectrum fer male phoenixes.”  

               “You keep callin’ him ‘the new phoenix’,” Tate noted.  “I guess Dad hasn’t named him yet?”

               “No, he has not.”

               “Hmm, this new phoenix is a lot redder than Prometheus.  Like, super red.  I kinda think Jasper would suit him.”  Tate sighed.  “But Dad’s got a whole list of phoenix names ready to go.”

               “I like Jasper,” Lute said.  “It’s a real name, not like whatever nonsense Ford was plannin’ on.”

               “I’ll talk to yer father,” Fiddleford said after a moment.  “I might be able to convince him to let you name this one.”

               “Sweet!  It’s about time!” Tate said enthusiastically.  He stepped towards the food stand.  Lute hissed, remembering his cover as a wild bird.  “Oh.  Uh, I can’t fill the food dishes if potential-Jasper here is guarding ‘em.”

               “I’ll handle it,” Fiddleford said, taking the container of bird food from his son.  “Why don’t ya grab lil Percy and play with him a bit?”

               “You got it.”  Tate put on a thick leather glove, held out his arm, and whistled.  Emmett took flight, landing on Tate’s outstretched arm.

               “Tate, we’ve been over this, don’t try to teach the phoenixes tricks,” Fiddleford said tiredly.

               “Percy doesn’t mind.”

               “I ain’t so sure ‘bout that.”

               “They’re birds.  It’s not like they’re people,” Tate said, rolling his eyes.  Fiddleford frowned at him.  “…You can’t ground me anymore, I’m an adult.”

               “I can still scold ya.  How many times do I have to remind ya, treat these birds with respect!  Fer one thing, they’re magic.  ‘Member what happened when yer dad ticked off Pele and Prometheus? He got stuck as a toddler fer a week.”

               “I don’t think they’d do that to me,” Tate said firmly.  Fiddleford sighed.

               “Just take Percy downstairs fer some playtime, will ya?”

               “Yep.  Bye, birds!” Tate called.  The rest of the phoenixes in the aviary chirped goodbyes at him as he walked downstairs.

               “Sorry ‘bout Tate,” Fiddleford said to the aviary as a whole, once Tate was gone.  “We keep tryin’ to talk to him, but it just won’t stick.”

               “Y’know what’ll make it stick?” Stan cawed.  “Tellin’ him the truth!”  Fiddleford looked at Stan.

               “If ya were suggestin’ again that we tell him the truth, I’ll say what I’ve said before.  We don’t want him to know.”

               “Why not?” Daisy chirped. Fiddleford shook his head.

               “I ain’t havin’ this conversation when I can’t understand ya, sweetie.”  He walked over to the food stand.  “Thanks fer actin’ like ya didn’t want him near, Lute,” Fiddleford said softly.  “He might not be suspicious at first, if the phoenix we picked up yesterday was tame, but over time, it’d be more evidence that somethin’s fishy with the operation here.”

               “It’s whatever,” Lute cawed.

               “And you don’t mind if Tate assigned ya the name Jasper, do ya?” Lute looked at him.  “Oh.  Um, nod if yer fine with Jasper.”  Lute bobbed his head.  “Good. That’ll make him happy.” Fiddleford began to fill the food dishes.  “Did ya have a good night’s sleep?”  Lute shook his head.  “Aw, shoot. Sorry, lil brother.  You’ll get used to it.  I’ll be callin’ Ma ‘n Pa after I’m done up here, to give ‘em the news.” Lute deflated.

               “Not lookin’ forward to that,” Lute mumbled.  “I just know they’re goin’ to insist on comin’ up here to chew me out in person.”

               “It’ll be fine,” Fiddleford said gently.  He scratched the top of Lute’s head.  “Oh, Angie?”

               “Yeah?” Angie chirped.

               “Don’t forget, you’ve got that follow-up appointment tomorrow,” Fiddleford told her.  Angie nodded. Fiddleford let out a small sigh. “Geez, now that yer a bird, Lute, we’ll have to take ya in fer veterinary check-ups, too.”

               “What?!” Lute screeched.

               “Actually, I wonder if the vet can squeeze ya in tomorrow.”

               “Fiddleford!” Lute squawked in protest.

               “You broke yer wing.  You need a check-up with someone licensed in veterinary medicine,” Fiddleford said shortly. “But there’s no need to panic; the vet knows our phoenixes are sentient.  She’s very accommodatin’.”

               “He’s right,” Stan said.  “You should go get a check-up.  And yeah, once they told the vet that we’re sentient, she started treating us more like people.”  Lute huddled down in his nest.

               “‘Like’ bein’ the key word there,” Lute grumbled.  “I’m not a person no more, I’m a dang bird.”

               “A very fine-lookin’ bird,” Angie said kindly.

               “Yeah, you’ll pick up a hen in no time,” Stan said.  Lute glared at him.  “…What’d I say?”

               “Stanley, I’m gay.  I don’t want to attract any lady birds.”

               “Oh.”  Stan looked at Angie.  “What do phoenixes do if they’re gay?” Angie shrugged.

              “See, Uncle Lute?” Molly called from her nest.  “They’re just as clueless as you are.”

[ficdirectory]

Blink (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 41

CHAPTER 41

 While Jesus is waiting for Pearl to call back, the worst thing happens:

He’s pacing the hall, going as close to Moms’ room as he dares, and then walking back the other way.  Frankie’s joined him, too.  Walking beside him, and talking about learning about seasons in preschool.

 “Winter is a picture of some snow and I do not like that.  Right, Jesus?  Are you so glad California doesn’t got snow?”

 “I am,” he nods.

 “What are we doing?” she wants to know.

 “Waiting.”

 “For what?”

 “The laundry.”

 “For underwear?” Frankie wrinkles her nose.

 “Does laundry mean underwear?” he asks, still distant.

 ��Yeah!” Frankie giggles.  “Hilarious, huh?”

 Jesus doesn’t say anything back.  He’s glad to see his little sis back to her usual self, but he wonders when someone will notice that he’s not back?  That a part of him is back in Minnesota?  And LA?  And There?

 “Here you go, honey,” Lena says, walking out of the bedroom, the backpack and his blanket in her hands.  

 “No fair.  How come Night-Night didn’t get to get washed in the dryer?!” Frankie’s seriously offended, but Jesus isn’t even listening.  His eyes are locked on the bag - empty.

 He takes it in his hands.  It feels super light.  Makes him feel like passing out.  Because he’s remembering another bag...not light at all.  And that bag in the hole Jesus dug.  And dirt shoveled on it.

 Wordless, Jesus goes back to his room.  He makes sure his laptop is off.  His phone.  He doesn’t want to talk to anybody.  Who can he trust and who can really help him anyway?   

 Jesus crashes in his blankets, wrapping the yellow one around his head and face.  It smells clean and that feels wrong somehow.  All the stuff he’s been through lately, and the blanket with him.  Now it’s like all the life got washed out.  All the experiences never happened.

 That’s probably what Moms want.  Everything to be normal and okay.  For him not to be this messed up kid.  He falls asleep because he can’t stay awake anymore.  Because of the bag and the blanket and of everything being gone.

 Especially Isaac.  And especially him.

 --

 Jesus sleeps through lunch and stays still even after that, so Lena won’t try to make him eat anything.  He found a rubberband somewhere.  Put it on where this missing bracelet was.  He keeps snapping it because it’s a good distraction from the deep hole it feels like he’s in.  It’s a figurative hole, only, not a literal one.  Jesus never forgets that he could be in a real one right now.  But he’s not.  The snapping barely hurts at all.

 He listens for a minute.  No sign of Mama or Frankie.  He goes into the girls’ room, because they’re not in there, and he needs something.  He finds it on Mariana’s desk: scissors.

 Jesus leaves the room just like he found it, and then slips into the bathroom with his bag.  He locks both doors and sits on the floor against one.  

 The fabric of the backpack is too strong for him to rip with just his hands because he’s weak and a dumbass, and he needs to destroy this stupid thing.  Methodically, he slashes it.  He mangles the hell out of it because it needs to not even exist anymore.

 It’s takes work, and time, but Jesus has time.  It doesn’t take long for Jesus to realize that the scissors aren’t really destroying this as much as he needs it to be.  He gets up.  Goes to the girls’ room first to put back the scissors.  Thinks about going to Jude and Brandon’s room - Jude has a pocket knife - but the idea of going in there is too much right now.

 Instead, he heads downstairs, leaving the bag under the blankets in his room.  A quick glance out the back door, and Jesus can see Mama out there with Frankie, playing.  Mama’s really big on them getting fresh air, and being able to run around and be kids.

 And it’s ideal for him, because it means no one’s got their eye on the knife block in the kitchen.

 One’s missing and he checks the dishwasher.  Sees it right away.  Mama would notice if another knife disappeared but she already knows she used one and will still think it’s in the dishwasher.  Jesus wipes it off with his shirt and slides it in the front pocket of his hoodie.

 Holding a knife makes him feel strong.  Powerful.  He needed one in that airport.  And pretty much everywhere lately, and especially There.  He uncovers the slashed up bag and does an even better job of it with a better tool.

 When it’s so wrecked it couldn’t possibly hold anything ever again, Jesus ties it in a plastic Target bag and brings that out to the big trash in the garage.  He opens the lid and leans down, looking close, even though the smell is one of the rankest he’s ever smelled.

 Is this where Lena threw away all his food?

 Whatever.  Jesus makes himself not care.  Tosses the ruined backpack in the can and lets the lid fall closed.

 He walks around the house to the back yard where he sits on the grass and watches Frankie swing.

 “Jesus, did you eat something, bud?” Lena asks.

 Anger bubbles up inside but Jesus breathes it back in.  He knows she doesn’t give a damn if he can eat or not.  She just got rid of all his food without even talking to him first.  But he lies because he doesn’t have the energy to even care.

 “Yeah, I ate.”

 His hand goes to the front pocket of his hoodie.  If Lena sees it, she’ll assume it’s him guarding food he put there.  It’s not, though.  Because he can’t bring himself to put the knife back.  It feels good to have it on him.  To protect himself.  Because without Pearl, Jesus can’t trust anybody here to protect him.

 Mom and Mama proved that at the airport.  He still has Mariana who he can trust, but it’s not her job to keep him safe.  She’s not an adult.  Jesus can’t keep putting his crap on her.

 In the back of his mind, he thinks about Pearl.  She had said she’d call him back but Jesus waited like half an hour and nothing.  It’s no big deal.  He needs to stop relying on her, anyway.  If she’s not physically here, it’s not like she can do anything to help him or keep him safe.

 After a while, Jesus stands up and walks to the fence in back.  It’s not wood like There.  It’s chainlink.  He sits down against it.  Puts his hand in his pocket.  Feels the handle of the knife.  Proof that he’s okay.

 Jesus has no idea how long he sits there, before he sees Lena coming through the trees.  “You okay?”

 “Fine.  Where’s Frankie?”

 “The kids are home from school.  She’s inside with them.  Anything you need?  Anything I should know?”

 “No.  I’m just tired.”

 “Well, come inside.  You can rest there.  I don’t want you out here alone.”

 Jesus stands up and follows her into the house.  It’s loud with people and electronics.  It’s the way Jesus is used to it being.  Then.

 If Moms want their life to be cleaned up and okay, he can be that.  He’s had years of practice.  That was the threat over his head for all those years after all.  Be normal.  Blend in.  And it had worked.  For four years, it had worked.  It was so much worse There.  It’s probably the least he can do here.  For them putting up with him and all his trauma crap.  He’s great at this.

 Moms will be so happy to have him be a regular kid.

 (He thinks about putting the knife back.  Can’t.)

 --

 Pearl’s wondering just how Jesus has managed to fall off the face of the earth in no time flat.  One minute she’s telling him she’ll call him back and the next, he’s not signed into Skype and all her calls go straight to voicemail.

 “Hey.  You’ve reached Jesus Foster.  You know what to do.”

 She’s tried not leaving a message.  She’s left messages.  By phone.  By Skype.  By Email.  She doesn’t care if she’s being annoying.  He had not been okay when he called her.  Chances are, he’s not okay now.

 Her Skype chimes and Pearl lunges for it.

 “Oh,” she says, beyond disappointed that it’s not Jesus.  It’s Pav.  They haven’t talked in awhile.

 “Sorry to disappoint you,” she smiles.  “Just checkin’ in.  Your company gone?”

 “Yes, and one of them seems to have vanished.”

 “Aw, you miss him.”

 “Platonically.  I miss him platonically, yes.”

 “Do you get how big that is, Pearl?  You able to let somebody in?  In your space?  To wanna keep in touch after they’re gone?”

 “Yeah, I get it.  It’s fantastic.  Whatever.  I just...didn’t expect him to shut me out.”

 “Are you sure he is?” Pav asks.  

 “No, but what other explanation could there be?  ...Oh God.”

 “What?  Now don’t go winding yourself up.  Talk to me.”

 “I disclosed.”

 Pav waits, listening intently.  “And you think that’s why that little boy ain’t texting you back now?”

 “Yes.  How is that unreasonable to assume?”

 “It ain’t,” Pav says calmly.

 “You think it was a bad call.  I shouldn’t have said anything.  You’re right.  He’s basically a kid.  What kid wants to know that the next door neighbor on his vacation got raped all night?” Pearl exclaims.  There are tears in her eyes.

 “I think...maybe we don’t go readin’ into things...not until we know for sure?”

 “What?  That we had a very sudden friend-breakup?  With absolutely no warning?”  Tears are rolling now.  God.  And Gracie’s on high alert.

 “Hey.  I’m right here,” Pav offers.

 “But you’re not...and he was...and I ruined it.”

 “Take it easy.  Listen to me.  How did he seem when you last spoke?”

 “Not great.”

 “About you or something else?”

 “Something else,” Pearl admits, feeling marginally better.

 “Okay then.  Remember that.  He’s probably dealing with all kinds of things bein’ back home now.  It might just take him a minute to figure out how to fit you into all that.”

 “Thank you…” Pearl sniffs into the Kleenex she’s holding.  “For talking me off that ledge.”

 “It’s what we do.” Pav says simply.

 “How are you doing?” Pearl wonders.

 “Actually not bad, which is why I called to see why it’s been days since I heard from you, but now I think I know why.  Your friend, he just left yesterday, right?”

 Pearl sighs.  “He did.  And I never thought I’d feel as lonely as I do right now.”

 --

 At supper, Jesus sits at the table with everybody else.  He makes small talk.  He eats the way they do.  Not too fast.  He doesn’t smuggle anything away from the table.  He takes his plate to the sink before Frankie shrieks, “Red light!” at him and then begs him to come play Legos with her.

 She’s still obsessed with the idea of bad guys, so they make a jail and put the bad guy inside.  It has a floor and four walls.  They even put a piece over the top so there’s no way he can get out.  It’s how Jesus felt Then.  Feels Now.  

 It doesn’t feel any different.

 Jesus hears the dishwasher turn on (with one less knife inside.)  Just like he thought, nobody missed it.  They might in a day or two, but not right now.  They don’t need to worry.  It’s not like he’s gonna pull a knife on Jude or Frankie or anybody else.  It’s just for him.  

 At 7:30, it’s Porch Time and Jesus feels betrayal rising in him strong and fast.  Why should Moms even do this?  They wanna sit and talk about how he is but they don’t wanna actually do anything to protect him.

 Still, he swallows the feelings.  Makes himself go out there.  Wait.  Like usual.  Like nothing’s wrong.  Because nothing is.

 “Hey, love.  Let’s talk,” Mom greets, sitting down beside him, like she’s so happy.

 “About what?”

 “Whatever you want,” Mom encourages.

 “You seemed quiet today.  Are you sure you’re okay?”  Mama asks but she doesn’t wait for him to answer.  “I know it was probably very hard to not find your bag where you left it.  But this was a safety thing, Jesus.  To have rotting food in the house?  That’s not safe.  Getting rid of that food and washing your bag and your blanket was a part of keeping you safe.  I need you to understand that.”

 “I do,” he says, looking her in the eyes.  “It makes sense.”

 “I want you to know that we do respect you and we respect your boundaries.  Okay?” Mom reminds.  “You’re very important to us and we want you to come to us if you need anything at all.”

 He nods.  “Okay.  I will.”

 “Is there anything you need right now?” Mom asks.

 “I can’t think of anything,” Jesus responds, choosing his words super carefully.  A straight out ‘no’ would make them suspect something.  A ranting laundry list of crap would make them hate him again.

 “Well, if you do, I want you to know you can always let us know.” Mom says.

 “Okay,” Jesus nods.

 They go inside early.  Jesus makes himself take a shower because it’s expected.  The water’s too hot but so what?  He’s still wearing the rubberband around his wrist.  Still has the knife wrapped in his shirt on the floor.

 When he gets out, he leaves the water on.  Leaves the fan on.  Then rocks himself hard against the bathroom door for a while, just to kill the urge.

 Just like he’s hoping, nobody comes to check.  Everybody’s downstairs.  And Frankie’s asleep.

[voidwizerd-archive]

BONDING EXPERIENCES?? ==>

[[ logs with @carnivalsorphans​, our muses keep bonding in very confusing ways, what the fuck are these two ]]

voidwizerd okay first off please dont bring this up w Kankri bc th last thing i can handle rn is anythin resemblin a moral talk im too pissed

carnivalsorphans yeah

voidwizerd do you ever like get a super specific urge to just beat a body senseless does this happen to you

carnivalsorphans often enough that the thought some people don't kinda baffles

voidwizerd i cant get at who i wanna get at theyre all universes away n maybe DEAD which sure would be fuckin convenient fr them huh i just

carnivalsorphans hahaha yeah fuckin relatable

voidwizerd wanna find some shitty person n whale on em until theyre only sorta recognizable

carnivalsorphans hmmm

voidwizerd teeth aint that necessary anyhow ugh

carnivalsorphans hahahaha do you actually want me ta find ya someone shitty ta fuck up or we just talkin hypotheticals and feelings?

voidwizerd i honestly dont even know i just wanted to confirm someone else experiences this too

voidwizerd i figured if anyone does itd be you

carnivalsorphans aight, just feelings yeah, you bet sib a lot. and it's hard. just kinda.... keepin that real tight inside it winds ya up a bit warps you and makes ya feel all weird til ya can do somethin ta make it stop i used ta bleed myself and then paint with it, but wicked said that's bad, so i'm tryinna figure somethin else out

carnivalsorphans i felt that way bout anyone i actually give a fuck about, where any time they talk on their old shit it just makes me tense up and start this fuckin rumble

carnivalsorphans usually stop it afore it gets loud though kankri says he don't feel that way at all, but i bet there's somethin that'd wind him up that bad somethin for everyone that just makes em wanna beat someone bloody

voidwizerd yeah it just its like wrappin your insides up tighter n tighter n tighter n it feels like itll rip n spill everythin out

carnivalsorphans yeah

voidwizerd so fuck, if its gonna tear eventually why not choose myself how that happens???

carnivalsorphans yeah and i'd think at least no one was gettin hurt but me and i like pain anyhow

carnivalsorphans and it spills out nice and slow and i get somethin pretty at the end of it but ... ya gotta pick ya poison, sometimes

voidwizerd i guess i did that last one kinda fr different reasons n a bit more extreme but ha ha ........i fuckin hate copin

carnivalsorphans yeah, it's hard i got a lot ta cope with

carnivalsorphans used ta think i was better than addiction, but i ... dunno. feel like an addict sometimes. wicked says i might be one, even. instead of the bottom of a bottle, i just got my claws

voidwizerd just bout anythin can be addicted to i used to run until my body gave out only way my mind would go quiet i miss th quiet

carnivalsorphans .... yeah

voidwizerd but Kankri would worry

carnivalsorphans fuck havin connections ta people hahaha

voidwizerd right its terrible but also i wouldnt know what happy is like either

carnivalsorphans .... yeah

voidwizerd th loneliness was killin me ha like literally lmaooooo

carnivalsorphans yeah i can feel that

voidwizerd well no okay technically i was doin that my own damn self

carnivalsorphans you wouldn't think, surrounded by church who loves me

carnivalsorphans but ya know. lonely at the top

voidwizerd fuckin pussy i was broke in less than two sweeps. whoop whoop yeah yeah i bet lonely is terrible, fuck that shit

carnivalsorphans used ta be worse but used ta be, i didn't care .... way way fuckin back when saw people bein all close to eachother and it seemed like a waste a fuckin time and energy and like they was a bit away from stabbin eachother in the back

carnivalsorphans .... fuckin ignorance was bliss

voidwizerd ha wouldnt it be so much easier just to not

carnivalsorphans yeah

voidwizerd not need that not fuckin CLING to affection like a goddamn lifeline bc its either that n bein treated like garbage or bein treated like nothin at all

carnivalsorphans yeah, fuck that

voidwizerd hurt or isolation take your pick trick question they both hurt and they both make you feel isolated

carnivalsorphans yeah hahahahaha

carnivalsorphans rather have real hurt though. makes shit hard ta focus on .... sometimes, at least

voidwizerd mmn

carnivalsorphans > Try not to think of Artemi. > Try /really hard/

voidwizerd do i like pain fr kinky reasons or do i like it bc i just want someone to beat me to shit

carnivalsorphans hahahahaha

voidwizerd these are th questions

carnivalsorphans just assume it's a little a both

carnivalsorphans nothin's ever so black and white sometimes a lil more of one, sometimes a lil more of another

voidwizerd fuckin

carnivalsorphans and sometimes it fades away so much ya almost forget it's there

voidwizerd hate that shit

carnivalsorphans yeah

voidwizerd wish it could be simple shouldnt knowin yourself be simple but nah

carnivalsorphans hahahahaha

voidwizerd other ppl know me better than me

carnivalsorphans depends on how fuckin much you want to know

voidwizerd aint that just th fuckin way

carnivalsorphans i've tried real hard not ta let anyone know me fuckin hate bein /known/ bein... able ta pin down predict

voidwizerd sure is a thing its scary

voidwizerd scarier than anythin

carnivalsorphans .... yeah and not just cuz i'm scared for my church not just cuz i'm scared a how people will take it just... 's

voidwizerd if i didnt trust Kankri so much id prolly just. go outta my fuckin mind of terror. ha

carnivalsorphans yeah every time me and wicked have a real talk, i get a bit.... tense. all tensed up for him ta fuckin recoil or use shit against me or probably ain't the best way ta feel with ya rail, but

voidwizerd no i i get that fuck dude i literally couldnt tell you how often Jane n Dirk did that to me but my stupid ass kept confidin in em anyway

carnivalsorphans hahaha i never risked it sometimes i'd tell shit to people i was

voidwizerd only reason i didnt confide w Jake at all was cause he never paid attention to anythin that wasnt bout him

carnivalsorphans hurtin. i ain't ever had enough trust in fuckers to do that sorta shit too often

voidwizerd shit dude if ur only confidantes are th ppl ur torturin you just might need to get out more

carnivalsorphans hahahahaha yeah

carnivalsorphans i kinda went a bit nuts after i fell got better though

voidwizerd good on you shoulder pat for success

carnivalsorphans there's a lotta things i miss bout that time. probably more than i should. one more addiction ta add onto the pile

voidwizerd ha careful dude dont wanna be breakin records here

carnivalsorphans hahahaha i've lived a long time, i set all the records

voidwizerd my point is to get better rather than worse knucklehead though ha tbh this is one of those lights i doubt thats really a possible thing

carnivalsorphans hahaha how bout we just try for not gettin worse tolight? wanna come over? for the sake a not bein alone

voidwizerd i .....yeah thanks

carnivalsorphans fuck knows i ain't gonna be good for bein alone tonight neither. .... but i don't really wanna worry wicked over me bein all whatever i am right now

voidwizerd "whatever" is a good word fr feelins tonight "whatever" with a side of "sad n violent"

carnivalsorphans yeah

voidwizerd apparently not a regular or good thing to feel .. is it bad fr me to be so relieved you get this way too

carnivalsorphans naw 's normal ta feel relieved that ya ain't alone in ya experiences

carnivalsorphans fuck, that's sorta why i hang around sugary and vel and wicked

voidwizerd oh huh i guess i like. well i didnt even know i was angry until well

carnivalsorphans until you was burnin

voidwizerd yeah

carnivalsorphans i think vel sorta gets like that

voidwizerd i guess i been mad a long time but

carnivalsorphans yeah

voidwizerd long as i ignored it things never happened

carnivalsorphans people tend ta forget angry is somethin they is allowed ta be

voidwizerd until that naggin suspicion got confirmed, that i was treated no better than shit on someones heel, n i just welp there goes th neighborhood

carnivalsorphans yeah

voidwizerd anger is its big

carnivalsorphans anger is born out of sorrow a lot sorrow at fuckin... lack at bein wronged

voidwizerd .....yeah

carnivalsorphans at missed opportunities and bein taken advantage of

voidwizerd at at knowin i did nothin to get hurt n did *everythin* to win approval thats just

carnivalsorphans yeah

voidwizerd seventeen goddamn years of waste right there

carnivalsorphans yeah sweeps of lack of what ya deserved

voidwizerd i didnt deserve that

carnivalsorphans yeah

voidwizerd *they* deserved my goddamn fists i wish id fought back

carnivalsorphans it's aight to be angry bout that shit. people always say it's aight to mourn, but sometimes mournin involves gettin fuckin pissed

voidwizerd i wish id listened to my instincts

carnivalsorphans you did what ya knew ta do and that's... somethin

carnivalsorphans may not always feel good

voidwizerd i loved em too much was th problem id let anythin slide cause they was my whole world

carnivalsorphans ain't nothin wrong with lovin maybe a bit wrong with bein blinded by it, but there ain't nothin to be done about that except learn from it

voidwizerd yeah took

carnivalsorphans and fuckin... bein tempered hurts, but it does make ya stronger

voidwizerd fuckin 21 years but i learned

carnivalsorphans .... cmere?

voidwizerd yeah

voidwizerd yeah ill be there

carnivalsorphans > Probably help to send coords. > And then time to snug a friend

voidwizerd > Friend will cry and rant a lot but appreciate much. > Mostly cry.

carnivalsorphans > Pet the friend. Kiss their head and wipe away tears sometimes and comfort and offer inappropriate jokes when tears seem to be letting up.

voidwizerd > Jokes get a smile and then even more crying because what the fuck is an appropriate response to people caring about them.

carnivalsorphans > More kisses because how do you deal with people crying Normally anyway?

voidwizerd > Kisses back a little because that seems to help and not kissing back was starting to feel Weird.

carnivalsorphans > Prr? Wipe away tears, focus more on wiz than your own shit.

voidwizerd > Pr... Still feeling terrible, and thinking about bad gunk, but at least not alone. And good to be with someone who kinda gets it. "We're sorta fucked up huh."

carnivalsorphans "Yeah. But we make it work."

voidwizerd "Fuck dude we sure do. By the skin of our fuckin teeth but we're doin it."

carnivalsorphans "I think we're doin better than some people."

voidwizerd "That's optimistic." > Weak laugh.

carnivalsorphans "Naw, we ain't still stuck in our old shit. I think that's better off. Some people never get that far."

voidwizerd "...That's true." > Snuggle up more after decaptchaing more blankets. Feeling more vulnerable to Ringleader's chilliness.

carnivalsorphans > Oh, good. A layer between you and the warmth. ... Give the bundled wiz a squish. "There's somethin to be said for bein proud of how far we've come, at least. Even if we ain't where we wanna be yet." > .... Where does he want to be though?

voidwizerd "Where we even tryin to get to, though?" > Squish is good. Quiet purr.

carnivalsorphans > A snort. "Ya know, I was thinkin the exact same thing." > Loud purring.

voidwizerd "Don't that just figure. Tolight we're real fulla questions that don't got proper answers, huh."

carnivalsorphans "I dunno that we gotta know where we're goin ta be glad we're not where we were."

voidwizerd > Now you snort. "That's some deep shit."

carnivalsorphans "That's me. Deep as fuck. ya know my real secret now.

voidwizerd "I'm honored!" > Quiet laugh. Moody staring at nothing for a while. "Think I'm done cryin now. Got that hollow sense settlin in nice an blegh.”

carnivalsorphans “Yeah, fuck that. I only appreciate that shit when i’m needin to think after bein pissed. And even then, it ain’t the same as true calm.”

voidwizerd "Mmh. Better than feelin I'm about to like... break into a million billion pieces. Like takin a sledgehammer to a window. Ha." > Blink slow. Slower. You're not moving so much.

carnivalsorphans > Squish. You ain't their rail, it's not your responsibility to make sure they're all... In tact. .... But still, you're a bit concerned. A tiny bit. "Anythin I can be doin ta help?"

voidwizerd "'unno. Feelin's gone for now." > Whoops, that there is a yawn. You rub your face, trying to stay awake. "What about you?"

carnivalsorphans "Feel.... Warm." Soft purring. "Probably about time ta pass out."

voidwizerd "Mmh." Sprawl out a bit. "Thanks for bein my comrade in shittiness."

carnivalsorphans "Misery demands company and all that. Plus i like hangin around you."

voidwizerd "Gay."

carnivalsorphans "Yeah." Forehead kiss.

voidwizerd > Mumble a barely comprehensible "suuuuper gay" before nodding off. > RL's a good friend.

carnivalsorphans > Pet Wiz a little longer before going to sleep yourself.

[underopenskies]

First meetings

((*Gonna just tag @fontsandsins because well, i can. :D anyways, here we go. This is technically their first meeting... And for lack of better title, I’m gonna name it that :D *most creative*))

The first thing she noticed was the dust. The dust always preceded the rumble of hooves over the ground, billowing high into the sky. The sound reached her next, and the tall skeleton guided her mare further off to the side of the road and into the shelter of the auction yard.

She adjusted her hat over her horns and shifted in the saddle, leaning forwards slightly as the white mustang shifted restlessly under her. She lightly urged her forwards as a large herd of cattle entered the town, a frown tugging at her mouth as she eased her way out of the auction yard where the animals were being guided. Skylar took care not to disrupt the path the bovines were on currently, not having the desire to chase several spooked animals through inhabited streets.

Her frowned deepened for a moment as she looked over them. No one had been at the head of the herd, guiding it, or at the sides where she could see. No, she could only pick out one lone rider among the masses, urging them expertly from behind. It was a large risk, bringing this many in without a steady set of hands to help you keep everyone together. She’d seen many a cattle drive gone bad from too few hands on the metaphorical deck.

The animals seemed to be in control, however, so she had to give the rider kudos for keeping this many animals under control with one mount. It was no easy task for a herd this size, particularly since the rider was bringing them in through a small throng of vehicles.

“Easy,” Her lightly murmured voice was nearly swallowed up by the sounds of the herd as the woman shifted up in the saddle. She guided her mare to the middle of the street, where she created an effective block, the animals wary to come near the large white horse. This left the rider in the back to guide them in smoothly- the street was fairly linear, and with only one way to go, even cattle were smart enough to know which way to turn.

Once she could actually see the other rider, she gave him a cheery wave from her spot. He might not have requested help, or hell, probably even needed it, but anything that made the job just a little less complicated never hurt. Besides- that gave her a chance to ask him how the hell he managed to bring this many head of cattle in without them scattering to the winds. That task alone was impressive as hell.

Hamish let out a loud high pitched whistle, two cattle dogs race out from behind him, barking at the cows they ran over to the right side of the heard and continued barking guiding the animals into the yard. Hamish rode his horse up behind the cattle and dismounted walking over to push the heavy wooden gate closed, hooking a chain through the wooden beams to keep it from swinging back open.

His two dogs laid down in a small amount of shade given by a gun tree growing next to the yard, the both planted heavily to cool them selfs down waiting for their masters next command. He returned to the horse and grabbed onto the reins leading it over to a trough of water, he gave the horse a firm pat in the shoulder at it drank, he whistled and both dogs lifted their heads getting up and bounding over to take a drink as well before laying back down together.

A man dressed a lot cleaner a richer than Hamish walked out of the building back up to the yard and smiled. "Hamish my boy, how was your ride?" He called walking over. "G'day bazz...it was a hot one but we got through, west river dried up again, makes the trip a hellava lot quicker." He replied, shaking the other skeletons hand when he was close. Barry (nicknamed bazz by Hamish) nodded and looked into the yard. "How many?" He asked. "350 all in top milking conditions or for you to do whatever it is you do to turn em into barbecue." He said bluntly. Barry nodded and smiled. "Well you wait right here while I go fetch you pay." He said, turning a to head back inside leaving Hamish to wait.

The cattle dogs explained how he managed it. Still, two dogs for this many cows was impressive. The rider- the nice dressed man had called him Hamish, she thought- had brought in three hundred and fifty head- that was about the size of her herd back home.

She approached him once the well dressed skeleton had wandered off to fetch his pay. Skylar offered the man a small smile, and leaned over slightly in the saddle so she didn't tower over him from horseback. "Hi." She chirped softly to the skeleton. "That was pretty impressive, mister. I know seasoned cattlemen who can't move a herd half that size with just dogs without them scatterin' to the winds. Hope I didn't overstep any boundaries by blocking your herds path like I did."

He probably hadn't needed it, but Skylar wasn't one to stand idly by if someone needed a hand or looked like they did. It was easier just to help and get growled at after for doing it than waiting for something to go awry. More than once had she been growled at by a prideful herdsmen after helping without being asked.

Hamish turned at the sound of a horse approaching and turned, a kind smile curling up on his mouth. "Good afternoon, ma'am. Don't worry, you're a'right no harm done. I've been driving cattle down from my land for years, use to be my dads business, when he passed I gotta work out how to do it all meself." He gestured at the dogs. "These two make getting’ them here easy, best dogs you'll ever meet."

She flashed him a cheery closed-lipped smile in turn and glanced to where he had gestured. "I didn't see them at first," she admits, "so I wasn't sure how you were managin' not to have your herd scattering. Best dogs indeed though. Better than a lot of folks on horseback from what I've seen." She shifts and swings down from the saddle.

Her boots kick up a small bit of dust, but not all that bad. Skylar offers him a cheery grin. She was a little over six foot something or other, probably closer to six foot two than anything. "I bet your Dad's proud of you. You handled yourself pretty well. I'm surprised you didn't have any helping hands though. A few extra sets on horseback can make things easier on top of having the best cattle dogs. Oh- I'm so sorry, that was quite rude of me. I never introduced myself." She offered him a gloved hand, the other coming to rest on her hip. Blue eye lights glimmered at him warmly from under her hat. "I'm Skylar McQuillin. The big girl behind me is Mel."

Hamish took her hand and shook it. "Hamish." He said then looked back over his shoulder at the cows. "I hope yer right, about my dad bein’ proud. I was hoping by now I might have met someone, and had kids of my own to heard drove with… heh, I'm still 47 years young there’s still a chance fer me."

"It's nice to meet you, Hamish." He had a nice handshake. She tilted her head and followed his gaze. "I know my Dad was proud of me until the day he died. My Mom still is proud of me." She quirked a grin. "She keeps badgering me for grandkids. 'Thirty two is more than old enough for you to have given me a slew of them already, Skylar.'" she lightly mimics her mother's sassy tone with an amused grin showing off sharp teeth. "It's hard to meet someone in our line of work though. Most men I've met have turn tail and run the other way when the going got rough. You'd think they could handle helping me pull a calf."

Hamish's smile grew wider. "Crikey, they got weak stomachs or somethin’? My girls are having calves every other week, really ain’t much to it." He took this moment to really get a good look at this girl, he was tall, and very attractive, she dressed nicely...well what he considered to be nice. His eyes moved down from her face to her chest, he swallowed hard and pulled his eyes back up to her face before his cheeks could heat too much. yup, very attractive.

Skylar caught the way that his gaze wandered. Being a cattle rancher meant you had to be observant. She flushed just slightly, a light blue tinge highlighting the freckles that decorated her cheeks. She was dressed nicely- but her Mom had instilled in her that you can do hard work while looking good doing it. She also took good care of the shiny black horns threaded through her hat. Healthy horns were less likely to be broken.

He was good looking too- but she never minded a bit of dirt on her men. It proved they were hard workers. "Well, I had one lad toss his cookies when I had to go elbow deep to dislodge a calf. Another fainted when one of my girls started pushing." She chuckled wryly. "Most folk aren't cut out for our line of work. Makes it hard to find a decent fella- or lady in your case."

"Suppose it's partly my fault too, I spend so much time on my farm, I can't expect a girl to come lookin for me." He said.

Barry returned carrying a stack of cash, handing it to Hamish and patting him on the back. "You make so much cash off me, I don't get why you don't move your farm closer to town." He said with a smile.

"I like my farm, got all I need up there." He replied. "I like Savin money, rather spend it on looking after what I got than spending it on things I don't need." He finished. Barry shook his hand again.

"Well, see ya next time Haz." Barry turned and left again, tipping his hat at Skylar.

Hamish sighed and tucked the cash into a saddle bag. "Pardon the interruption." He said then paused. "Ya know, one of my girls is due to have twins any day now. Maybe you could come check on her for me, I've never delivered twins before I don't want it to be too hard on the poor girl."

He seemed smart. She knew a lot of ranchers who didn't know how to manage their money properly and went under quite quickly. You had to know when to spend, and when you could fix it yourself. Duck tape and twine were a ranchers most versatile tool.

Skylar didn't mind the interruption, and offered Barry a sunny smile. Once they were alone again, she nodded, though gave him a slight frown. "You might want to invest in a calf bottle then, unless you already have one. It's rare a mother takes both twins. By the time she has the second, she's usually forgotten she's had the first, and she'll shun and hurt the calf if it tries to nurse." The way she spoke of it told of many years experience with that fact. "I don't mind giving you a hand though. I can ride back with you if you'd like. Twins can be hard on the mother. If she tires herself out with the first, we might have to help her with the second."

"I'd appreciate that a whole lot." He said moving back towards his horse and mounting, shifting himself until he sat comfortably in the saddle. The dogs jumped up, ready to go the moment Hamish mounted. He leant forward rubbing his horses neck while he waited for Skylar.

She hooked her boot in her stirrup and up she went. Mel simply shifted on her hooves as her rider got settled. Skylar took a light hold on the reins, and gave him a cheery look. “How long ’s the ride?” She inquired curiously as she urged her closer to his horse, a signal for him to lead the way. Her eye lights flicked down to the dogs that looked quite ready to move on, and a grin pulled from her again. Skylar loved animals, truly.

Hamish sighed slightly. "It's a four hour trip at the pace the cows move we can cut that time in half if we move faster… though it can get pretty hot so I don't like pushing the animals too hard." He explained pressing his heels against the horse's sides to get it moving. The dogs trotted again, knowing the way by heart by now but never straying too far ahead.

“Four hour trip isn’t too bad.” She nods. With a light nudge, Mel keeps pace with his mount with little trouble. “Taking our time isn’t bad either. Riding is relaxing.” She chuckles lightly, and hooks the reins on her saddle horn. She adjusts her hat as a gust of wind blows some dust upwards, and slips it off to pull out the handkerchief tucked inside. If it got too dusty, she’d tie it about her mouth to keep her from inhaling it.

Without the hat on, it put her horns right on display, showing that they weren’t just a tacky ornament on the brim of her Stetson. The black forms curved upwards and towards the front, black and slightly dusty from the air. It also displayed the long cracked scar that raced around her right horn and down a little onto her forehead. “I overheard you mention that one of the rivers dried up?” She inquired conversationally, glancing at him out of the corner of her sockets as she tucked her handkerchief into her pocket for easier access. “Should make for easier crossing.”

Hamish glanced back at her and nodded. "The west river runs through my land, when it dries up it turns into a shortcut. It's hard to get the cattle to walk through the river because it's a strong current so usually I have to walk em down to a bridge to get them a cross and that adds another half hour to the trip." He explained.

She nods lightly. “Cattle don’t really have the hooves for crossin’ strong water.” She agrees. Skylar slips her hat back on expertly, working it over the curled horns, and settles it back into place. The horns, at least, explained why she didn’t need a stampede strap to keep her hat from blowing off if her horse went faster than a trot. “Have you checked all along the banks for any shallower crossing spots? If you can manage it on your own two feet, usually cattle can too.”

"I have a wonder down here on my own with the dogs sometimes, the dogs don't like the strong water either so I know if the dogs get in the water it's a potential good spot, but the rocks can get slippery so most of the time the bridge is my best bet." He explained, keeping his eye on the two dogs.

“Rocks and hooves don’t go well together.” She chuckled lightly. “Particularly wet rocks. Neither do rocks and bare bones, now that I think on it.” She watched the dogs for a while, and then hummed a soft tune to herself. “So, your dogs got names?”

"Molly and Leroy." He said smiling at the dogs ears perked up at the mention of their names. "And this old boy is Charlie." He said, patting the horses shoulder.

“Good names for good critters.” A tender smile tugged at her lips again. Dogs were adorable- and as soon as they were at his ranch, they would be getting ear rubs pronto. Animals were truly her only weakness. “So, is Charlie a gelding?” She inquired. “He seems awfully well behaved for a stud.”

Hamish laughed and nodded. "That and I think he'd just gotten to the point where he's decided he's too old to cause me any trouble." He smiled, Charlie snorted in response.

Skylar laughed too. “Ha, I bet. Stallions are cantankerous until the day they die- but geldings tend to tame out as they get older. Also less likely to kill you too. Mares,” she tickled her fingers through Mel’s mane, watching as she pinned her ears at the sensation, “can be pesky too. Mel’s about fourteen now, and she keeps me on my toes most days.”

Hamish smiled. "I've got two mares back home. Ones a year old and the other is pregnant at the moment. A family wanted to breed their stallion with her then buy the foal from me for their daughter." He said. They where finally approaching the dried up river the dogs began barking excitedly knowing home was close. Hamish whistled to get their attention. "Go." He said and both dogs took off in a race to get home first.

Skylar grinned lightly and watched the dogs race off. Part of her itched to join them- but Mel was fast, and overtaking dogs wasn’t that hard. Skylar also wasn’t familiar with the terrain of his ranch, and she’d rather not risk Mel twisting something in a hole. “Oh yeah?” She tilted her head to him with a happy smile. “Foals are adorable. You have experience breeding horses?” She had some herself, though she was more familiar with cattle than with horses. She’d delivered several foals, of course, but she hadn’t actively helped raise them.

Hamish nodded. "I think by now I’ve had a little big of experience with a lot of things. When my parents where still alive, we had sheep and pigs too… They ended up being a little too much to handle so I sold them off and used the money to get myself a couple of bulls and really focused on the cows." He explained, nudging Charlie into a slow trot. "Considering breeding my dogs and training up to puppies and selling them to other farmers. Still thinking on it though."

“I feel you. After my Dad passed, I ended up taking over most of the ranching on my own until my brothers were old enough to help.” She chuckled quietly, and urged Mel to keep pace with Charlie. “It was hard to keep up on everything by myself. I had to sell a lot of our horses, and all of our goats. Mom had to handle the boys, and triplets are a handful when they’re runnin’ amok and getting into mischief. I was like… gosh, just a hair over sixteen I think. Boys were about four.” She shakes her head with a soft laugh. “I haven’t actually dabbled in breeding dogs. My Mom’s family had kennels, but that side of the business went to my uncle. Puppies are precious though. I could die a happy woman by being smothered in puppies.”

Hamish smiled then it faltered a little. "Curious…” he said “Say… you were to meet a guy, would you be able to leave your farm to live on his?" He inquired. Was that too forward? He did mean it out of curiosity... He didn't want to get his hopes up, finding a perfect girl only to find out he didn't really have a chance.

“Oh yeah.” She nods lightly. “I kinda figured I would, y’know? Or he’d stay on mine, if he didn’t have one.” She shrugged lightly. She hadn’t put it out of her chances that she’d marry a city slicker. “My brothers know how to run the farm- that’s why I’m able to go wandering from time to time. They’re actually pretty good at it too. I wouldn’t leave otherwise.” Skylar chuckles. “They’re only twenty, still plenty young, but they’re mature.”

Hamish could already feel his face heating up slightly. He had a chance. A girl who could handle herself, knew a lot about farm life, actually seemed genuinely interested in him, was extremely attractive and he actually had a chance. He took a breath… alright hazz... lets not get too excited and make an idiot of yourself. He took a breath and flashed her a smile. "That’s good to know."

“Mhm.” She smiles back at him, eye lights glimmering a warm blue. His flush was pretty cute, she mused to herself, and didn’t bother to hide the light blue flush that stained over her bones. She was definitely interested- he was cute, nice, and was fitting basically all of her criteria. Men like him just weren’t common anymore. At least, single ones that is. Though, she mused, she’d need to get to know him more, and he to know her. “That it is. So, what about you? Got any siblings?”

"Nope, only child. My mother had fertility problems. I'm the only kid they managed to have." He said, his home becoming visible now. Charlie pulled against his reins, wanting to run the rest of the way, he snorted loudly his ears flicking back.

“Siblings can be both a blessing and a curse.” She hums wisely, and chuckles quietly. “I think Charlie wants to run. Up for a race?” It was the last stretch to what she assumed was his home, based on Charlie’s response, and Skylar was willing to indulge the horses in a little bit of a run, since the ground seems relatively flat and smooth. Likely from many, many hooves flattening it over time.

Mel’s ears perked at the familiar word, and her trot changed into more of a bouncy canter- the mustang was eager for a good run. The bouncy canter didn’t do much to help with Skylar’s shirt, and she reached up to make sure the buttons weren’t coming undone. It wouldn’t do for her to be flashing her bra at him, or simply bouncing out of it.

Mustangs were not a smooth ride like a Tennessee Walking Horse was- but that was fine. Skylar didn’t mind a rough ride.

Hamish grinned and let loose the hold he had to keep Charlie back. "Gitup!" He said, Charlie pushed off with his back legs and took off, his hooves kicking up dust.

Skylar let him take off, and then leaned down. She kept a loose hold on the reins, but let a large amount of slack out so she could run. She didn’t verbalize anything, but simply clicked her heels lightly against the mare’s side, and shifted up in the saddle so she was standing in the stirrups.

Mel took off with a thunderous roar of hooves over hard packed ground, and began to strive to close ground with Charlie.

Hamish leant forward in the saddle. "Come on boy, you're not going to let her win are you?" The dogs waiting by the house now barked at them as they approached.

Skylar laughed, watching as he spoke with his mount. She leaned forwards, into the perfect ‘racing’ position, and let loose the reins. The strides of the long-legged mare increased, and she slid up nearly side by side with Hamish. Skylar glanced over long enough to give him a playful grin, before urging Mel faster.

The mare was only too happy to oblige, her ears pricked forwards and tail flown high in the dust kicked up from their hooves. She was fairly evenly matched- but Mel was also weighted down by all of the things in her saddlebags.

As the house grew closer, Skylar eased back on the reins, and began to slow her down so the Mustang didn’t simply plow right through the side of the house, or run over the dogs.

As the sound of her hooves slowed, Skylar’s gleeful laughter filled the space given. “He’s faster than he looks!” She beamed at Hamish.

Charlie slowed up, his breathing heavy, his ears flicked back and forth.

Hamish laughed and dismounted, taking Charlie by the reins and lead him to a stable. The mares had lifted their heads at the sound of their approach. Hamish took off Charlie's tackle and hung it up before pushing open the gate to let him out with the mares. "Uh, you could put her in the stalls if you want, there is water in there."

Skylar nodded. She eased Mel in a few slow circles of walking to help her cool down, before dismounting. She guided her into the barn, and gave Hamish a wide grin. “Thanks, Hamish.” Skylar chose an empty stall, one that didn’t look like it was used, and guided her mare in. Saddle bags were removed with practiced ease and set just outside the door, followed by her saddle and saddle blanket. Her bit was draped on the door, however, to keep it from being stepped on or tangled.

Mel greedily partook from the watering trough, blowing hot furls of air over the cooler liquid.

Skylar smiled at her and closed the stall door, before turning to grin at him. Her hand propped up on a shapely hip, and she arched a brow. “You’ve got a nice stable here,” She complimented, eyes roving over the stalls and paddocks appreciatively. “And your animals look well taken care of.” That was definitely something that eased any tension off of her face.

Hamish grinned. "My dad and I built it together." He said. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed towards the house. The cows called out to them as they walked back towards the house.

She diligently followed after him, glancing in the direction of the cows. Her legs had little trouble keeping up with him, boots clicking easily over the ground. “You both did really good.” She nods. “It’s better than the chicken coop my brothers and I tried to build.” Skylar chuckled. “I will admit, I’m not much of an architect. Repairing something I can do, and I can hold the beams and keep them steady, but building isn’t something I have a knack for.”

Hamish grinned. "I love building." He said stepping up onto the porch where the dogs where laying and walked around to the back where there was a smaller yard. "I've been keeping her in here so I can keep an eye on her." He said, gesturing to the heavily pregnant cow.

The dogs got ear rubs as Skylar walked by them, and soft murmurs to them both before she continued on.

Skylar kept pace with him, and looked over the smaller yard where the heavily pregnant bovine was settled. She nodded, and carefully removed her hat. She set it on the railing of the porch, so it didn’t spook the cow. She usually used her hat with herding on foot- and knew a lot of people who did the same. It often urged the animals to move in the direction she wanted them to, without her having to get on the horse. “Good call. She looks like she could pop any day. Her milk has come in- it won’t be long. When’s the next full moon?” She inquired, slowly easing up to the gravid bovine. She approached from the front, tugging off her gloves and tucking them into her back pockets so she could offer out a hand for the bovine to smell. “Hey there, pretty Momma,” she cooed softly to the cow, a smile tugging at her face.

"Ah shit, the end of the week I think would be the next full moon." He said, leaning on his elbows against the fence to watch her, he smiled at the way she acted with the animals, and in his eyes it made her even more attractive.

“She’ll probably deliver by then. Dad used to say that the two days before and after the moon was full were the most likely times for calving. For this lady though, I’d say she’s probably going to calve just before the moon is full.” Not getting a bad reaction out of the cow, Skylar eased closer. She rubbed her fingers gently along her cheeks, and then eased down to the soft flabby bits of her neck. She angled her digits, and then began to scratch and rub lightly.

She was rewarded with a blissful sigh as the cow leaned up to plop her jaw on her shoulder, a silent request for more attention that Skylar was all too happy to provide. “You’ve got a calf bottle just in case she doesn’t take both, right?”

"Yeah of course, I've had mothers just abandon calves before. That part I'm okay with handling." He scuffed his shoes in the dirt slightly. "It's uh, it's a long trip back to town and it'll get dark pretty quick. You're uh...welcome to stay the night."

Skylar glanced back at him and gave him a lopsided and happy smile. “Thank you, Hamish. That would be awesome.” It was a long ride here and a long ride back. He had asked her for help when the cow delivered- and she’d probably be done by the time that Skylar made it back here, honestly. Or she would be too far gone to fix by the time she made it back here, depending on when the bovine went into labor. She chuckled softly when a rasping tongue licked over the side of her skull, and cooed softly to the cow that was steadily leaning more and more into her shoulder. “You get any closer, pretty Momma, and you’re gonna become a lap-cow.” She teased lightly. “She’s a doll, by the way. She got a name?”

Hamish clicked his tongue. "Uh, no...I tend not to name the cows because they go as quick as they come. It's sad in a way, some of them have a lot of character. I just settle on the fact that at least with me they grow up in a field in the sun and the air not like those other places that lock em in sheds and beat em and shit. Sorry, just pisses me off." He said, pushing his hat down over his eyes.

“You and me both.” She glanced over at him, and eased around the cow before she could be knocked over. She patted her when she grumbled, and then eased around to check her hooves, middle, and udder, making sure she was healthy, before checking her backside. “The few ranchers I’ve met when I was younger did that.” She pursed her lips. “They thought I’d be okay with it, since apparently ‘all ranchers treat their animals this way’. One of them even tried to hit my horse when she didn’t do what he wanted her to. I, uh, knocked his teeth into his skull, to be blunt. Don’t be ashamed of thinking like a decent person, Hamish. Anyways, I asked about the names because everyone’s different. Some name them, some number, some do both, and some do neither. It’s easier to just ask than to assume.”

Skylar leaned back and hummed. “She’s healthy, by the way. Based on the state of her backside, she’ll probably go into labor in… mmm, two days? Maybe three, if she’s feeling stubborn.”

"I know we just met… I don't wanna overstep any boundaries… but if you wouldn't mind staying until she labors I'd appreciate it, I can pay you for your time." He said, his cheeks heating. Letting her stay the night was a gentlemanly thing to do...asking her to stay a few days… he didn't want to make himself sound like a creep.

“No payment needed.” She shakes her head lightly, and gives him a broad grin. “So long as you don’t mind housing me, I don’t mind staying. I’d rather see her and her babies healthy than anything else.” She gives her a gentle pat, and then steps away to approach the porch. “Animals are my first priority, sugar, and you’re never gonna cross any boundaries with me when it comes to their care and health.” She flushes suddenly upon realizing what she’d called him, and didn't even have a hat to hide behind. “Ah… Sorry about the ‘sugar’ thing. It just kinda… something I picked up from my Mom.” Usually she was better about using it- but sometimes it just slipped out, and it took her a while to catch it.

Hamish couldn't pull his hat over his face quick enough to hide the deep red that tinted his cheeks. "It's fine." He said, turning towards the house. He walked up to the front door and opened it for her.

At least she wasn’t the only one that was flushed. The blush still stained her cheek bones a bright color, highlighting her freckles, as she scooped up her hat and followed him to the door. “Thank you,” she murmured warmly to his polite gesture. Skylar slipped inside, and stepped out of the way to let him in as well. “Boots off?” She inquired. Her mom had a boots-off rule in the house, mostly because she got tired of mopping the floors any time the boys came trampling through the house.

"Ah, yeah. If you don't mind." He said kicking his own boots off at the door. He wasn't use to having company, especially female company. "Uhm… I should show you around huh?"

To show she didn’t mind at all, Skylar kicked off her boots, and tucked her socks in after them. Bare feet felt better than socks anyways. The socks also blocked any creepy-crawlies from getting in there where they’d be squished. Straightening up, after resting her hat on a nearby side table, she nodded to him. “If you wouldn’t mind? I don’t want to wander where I’m not supposed to, and getting lost would be embarrassing.”

"I mean I ain't hiding anything...I just worry that you won't know where the bathroom is or something." He said and began walking through the house, pointing out each room. "Ah...it's not weird if I say you're welcome to use my mothers old clothes if you wanna change outta what you're wearing is it?"

Skylar moved with him and checked out each room that was pointed out, making note of the kitchen, the bathroom, and where the bedrooms were. “Not at all,” she smiled slightly. “I do have some clothes in my saddlebags, but they’re in dire need of a washing.” She was wearing her last clean set. Skylar glanced at herself, and then at Hamish. Skylar was larger than the average woman- in more ways than one. “Do you think some of your mother’s stuff would fit?”

Hamish smirked. "Might be a little tight on your chest, but you're about as tall as my mom." He opened up the last door. "This is the guest room, my mothers stuff is in the wardrobe. You're welcome to use the shower too... if uh, if the hot water doesn't work flush the toilet… for some reason that fixes it."

“I don’t think either of us is going to complain if it’s a little tight across the chest.” She winked lightly at him in response to his smirk. “I might shower before I borrow clothes- no use getting in clean ones if I’m just as dirty as my clothes are, yeah?” At the tidbit about the toilet, Skylar laughed. “Every house has it’s quirks. Thanks for the tip though, Hamish.”

Again Hamish's cheeks flushed. Damn, he thought he would have been able to fluster her with his comment but she turned it right back around onto him. He cleared his throat. "Well... I'll let you have your privacy… I'll start dinner while you clean up."

“Thanks, Hamish.” She gave him a sweet smile at his blush. God, he was cute when he blushed. “I don’t mind giving you a hand in the kitchen when I’m done.” She could make a mean cheesecake. Skylar stepped to the wardrobe and opened it so she could take a peek at what was inside.

Most of the clothes were a bit out-dated, but she didn’t mind. So long as it covered what it needed to, she would be content with that.

Hamish walked into the kitchen and put water in a pot and sitting it on the stove and turning it on. He waited for the water to boil and added potatoes to the pot.

While he set to starting dinner, Skylar took a shower. He was right- the toilet trick worked, and she went from a cold shower to a hot one, which felt heavenly. She took a short one though, used to conserving water on a well, and came out squeaky clean. Her bones were pearly again, layers of dirt and dust now gone, and her horns once more shiny and spotless.

She loved getting dirty- because getting clean afterwards felt even better.

Hamish’s mother’s clothes fit fairly well. She was a little bigger in the hips than his mother was, but still managed to get the short pants buttoned. The shirt was another story entirely- she got the flannel buttoned up about half way, but had to have an under-shirt for it, since it displayed far more cleavage than she was fond of showing. If she’d have stepped wrong, she’d have fallen right out since… well, the bras most certainly did not fit. Most of her neck and a good chunk of her chest were still bare and showing in the tightly fit clothes- but she figured he wouldn’t mind.

Still, Skylar looked decent when she came padding down the hall towards the kitchen. She had her dirty clothes bundled in her arms, and went to set them by her boots. She’d take them out to her saddle bags later, and see if he had a washing machine anywhere. Once the clothes were tucked away next to her shoes, she padded back towards the kitchen, making sure not to hit her horns on anything. She might have been six foot two, but her horns curled upwards several more inches beyond that.

“Whatever you’ve got started smells amazing,” She chirps softly as she slips into the kitchen.

Hamish smiled and drained the water. "I thought mashed potatoes and crumbed chicken would suit. I could make gravy if you like that?" He said, he turned his head and looked over her...she looked amazing in his mothers cloths, should he say something...jee how did people do this.

She shot him a slightly shy smile, and slid closer to the stove. She leaned forwards slightly and took a deep breath, a pleased sound escaping her. He was a hell of a cook. “I don’t mind making the gravy, if you don’t mind sharing the kitchen?” Her eye lights flick up to his face, and she gives him a warm smile. His lack of comments didn’t bother her- he was fairly expressive even without speaking. “I’d hate to make you do all the work.”

He nodded and moved over slightly. "If you'd like to, go ahead." He worked on mashing the potatoes while the chicken cooked in a frying pan.

She gave him a quiet smile, and set to glancing quickly through his cupboards. Given permission to cook, she figured she’d be alright looking for ingredients to actually do the cooking. Once she located the chicken bouillon, she took down a few cubes, before fishing for a skillet. Once located, she filled it with several cups of water and eased it onto the free burner before turning it on.

Skylar lightly bumped him as she reached for the pepper, and sprinkled in a little bit, before adding the cubes of bouillon. The flour was a little harder to find. She lightly tapped his leg as she crouched down to look in the lower cupboards near his shins. “Careful where you’re steppin’, or you’ll get hooked on my horn, sugar. Hm… Flour, flour, where would you be…?”

He reached up and opened an over head cupboard for her. "Flour is in there." He said. He really hoped he wouldn't come off as rude but as they cooked together Hamish tried to avoid looking at Skylar as much as possible...it either proved how desperate he was or that he was still just as mature as a teenager just discovering the other things their dick could do...but every time he caught a glimpse of her he felt his pants become a little tighter.

Skylar wasn’t as oblivious as most women pretended to be. She knew what her body could do- and had no problem using it to her advantage when needed. His lack of looking at her didn’t bother her- very, very little got on the easygoing skeleton’s nerves.

“Ah! Thank you, Hamish.” Skylar leaned upwards and grabbed the tub that he pointed out. She hefted it to the counter, and set it down carefully, before prying off the lid. She hummed softly as she snagged a whisk, and began mixing in pinches of flour to the gravy mix. Her hips swayed lightly as she worked, humming the same tune she usually did when she was cooking. “How do you prefer your gravy?” She inquired lightly. “Some like it thinner, and some like it a little thicker.” She didn’t have a preference either way- so long as it tasted good, she was down for eating it.

"Ah...thicker." He said and swallowed, flipping the chicken. He went back to working on making the potatoes smooth. He set the pot to the side and fetched two plates he spooned the potato onto the plates and then the chicken and set them down to wait for the gravy. He put the pot in the sink and opened up a lower cupboard pulling out dry dog food, he filled the two bowls that sat on the floor by the fridge. He smiled at the sound of the dogs standing up and moving to the front door.

“Sounds like they’re hungry,” She smiled cheerily. “Thicker gravy it is.” A few more pinches of flour, and she set to stir it until it thickened.

It smelled amazing as it started to bubble. As it bubbled, it thickened more and more until it was rich, creamy, and dense. Once it was to a good consistency, she turned the burner off and carefully slid the hot pan to the side. Not that heat bothered her- the nature of her magic made her fairly impervious to it, hence why she had come to Australia. Cold, however, was another story. She didn’t handle bitter cold for a long time very well. “Aaand gravy is done.” She chirped cheerily, and set to dishing it out over the potatoes and chicken. “It looks like you’ll have some left-over gravy.”

That just meant he could reheat it and use it elsewhere if he so desired.

Hamish grinned and let the dogs inside. They trotted over to their bowls and sat down. He turned to smile at Skylar and took his plate setting it on the table, he got out two sets of cutlery handing one set to Skylar before sitting down at the table. "Okay." He said and both dogs moved forward and began eating.

“Well trained.” She commented with a smile. She took her plate and sat across from him, carefully setting her cutlery on the table next to her meal. Skylar smiled at the dogs and at Hamish, and hummed softly. “Thank you for cooking, Hamish. It looks amazing- you’ll have to let me know if you like the gravy, yeah?” She just hoped it went well with the chicken and potatoes. Skylar quietly cut off a chunk of chicken that had been slightly buried in gravy, and proceeded to eat it.

Oh wow. That was… That was really good. She’s quite certain her eye lights sparkled. “Oh wow. That’s some good chicken.”

Hamish grinned and cut off a bit for himself, popping it in his mouth. He felt a lot more comfortable now, at least if he did feel the tightness in his pants Skyler wouldn't be able to see it, he nodded. "I like to think of myself and a pretty good chef." He said with a small laugh.

“I think I’d like to agree on that.” She gave him happy smile, and set into her meal. Her other arm folded under her chest, propping up her breasts on the edge of the table. She might not be able to see any arousal- but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t make it worse unintentionally. “The potatoes are light and fluffy, and the chicken isn’t overcooked or undercooked.” She gives him an earnest look. “You’re a hell of a chef, sugar. Where’d you learn to make chicken like this?”

Hamish didn't mean to stare but he could have sworn she was doing this on purpose. He blinked and looked up at her. "Hm? Oh, uh… I cooked with my Mom a lot. She liked having help in the kitchen."

“Same.” She smiled at him lightly. His stare didn’t bother her much, and she simply arched a playful brow at him while she ate. “I grew up helping in the kitchen when I was home. Heavens knows my brothers can’t cook in a kitchen to save their lives, so I was the only one who could help her well enough.” Well enough without giving them all food poisoning again. She shook her head in amusement, and sampled the potatoes. They too were delicious, and she settled in to thoroughly enjoy the provided meal.

Hamish swallowed and forced his eyes down to look at his plate. He shifted and attempted to shift his pants secretly, which probably just made him look awkward.

Admittedly a little awkward, but first dinners with strangers could tend to be. The woman took no offense to it, and instead simply gave him a slightly flushed and bemused smile.

Skylar ended up finishing her plate first with all of the odd shifting Hamish seemed to be doing. When her plate was empty, she gave him a soft smile and leaned back and away from the table. That should have cleared up some of his distractions. She did spare a quick look down at her breasts, adjusting them to make sure nothing had fallen and gotten trapped between them, before her attention returned to the dish and silverware in front of her. “Thank you again for the meal. I don’t mind doing dishes while you finish up?”

Hamish glanced up at her plate and shook his head. "Mn!" He shook his head and swallowed the food in his mouth. "No, no it's fine. I'll do it." He said spooning the last of his potato in his mouth, he pushed his chair up and stood up shuffling over to take Skylar's plate. His face turned red, he just hoped he had been able to shift himself enough to hide himself he carried the plates to the sink and began running hot water over them, scrubbing them clean.

Not… Not entirely. Jeans didn’t do well for hiding erections unless one flipped them up against their belly. That fact she had unfortunately learned from her little brothers. To his credit, Hamish hid it better than most, and Skylar wouldn’t have noticed it- except sitting down, she was closer to eye level with his pelvis. She flushed, brightly.

Oh yes, she noticed.

But, she wasn’t going to comment on it. It was a perfectly natural reaction, honestly. If she had one, she’d probably have a tent too. He was attractive, sweet, and charming in his own right, and she was liking so far of what she’d seen of his personality. She eased out of her seat, and instead took to cleaning off anything that might have been spilled on the table. “Do you have any night time chores you do before you settle in for the night?” She wasn’t just going to sit around while he worked- that’s just not how Skylar functioned.

He turned his head. "I feed the horses and the chickens before it gets too dark." He replied, scrubbing at the dishes. He set them on a drying rack and took a breath before turning around to face her.

Skylar still had her flush as she straightened and met his gaze. The table was clean, and she offered him a sheepish smile. “I’d actually enjoy helping you with your usual chores, if it wouldn’t bother you to have company. I might need to borrow some feed for Mel- I can pay for it, of course, for the duration of my stay.” Feed wasn’t cheap. She’d either work it off, or pay it off, one way or another.

Hamish shook his head. "You stayin’ here to help me out with the calf delivery is more than enough." He said. He walked back towards the front door, the dogs had moved from their food bowls to a dog bed placed on the floor in the living room, they laid in it together cuddled close. Hamish picked up his boots and pulled them on, grunting slightly and adjusting himself in his pants again.

Skylar chuckled quietly and followed. She tugged on her socks, shook out her boots to make sure nothin’ had crawled in, and then slipped them on. “If you say so. I’ll be helping you with chores nonetheless, though. I can’t just sit idly by and do nothing- as much as I enjoy watching a man work, I enjoy workin’ alongside one too.” Boredom would drive her insane if she just sat around anyways.

It took her a moment to pick up his grunt, and she shifted slightly to step around him and for the door. Her boots were still gross, and shuffling in them would only make his floors messy. “Are you alright, Hamish?” She asked, glancing back to him and holding the door open for when he would join her.

Hamish imediatly played it off, stuffing his hands in his pockets and stepping outside. "Yeah, I'm all good." He said He walked back out the the stable and waited for Skyler before shutting the big doors, he walked over to a hidden cupboarded and pulled out a heavy bucket of grains, he scooped a few cup fulls into each food trough in each stall then set the bucket down in front of Mel’s stall. "I don't know how much you want her to have so I'll let you do that." He said, he made sure to open up all the empty stalls as wide as they could be opened, and then walked over to the gate leading out to the paddock.

He called out to the horses, clicking his tongue. It didn't take long for them all to head towards the gate. "Just watch out." He warned before opening the gates, all three horses pushed inside and trotted towards their stalls, it was obvious this was all routine to them. Hamish followed after them, shutting each stall behind the horses. He closed the paddock gate and pulled a heavy rolling door across it to stop any wild dogs or foxes getting in during the night. He leant against one of the stalls waiting for Skyler to finish up.

Skylar had no trouble staying well out of the way of the horses coming in, keeping herself flush with Mel’s door. Once the horses were safely tucked into their stalls, Skylar stooped to collect the feed bucket, and then slipped into Mel’s stall. She didn’t bother shutting the gate, but she didn’t need it.

The mare was right at her heels, snuffling at the back of her neck as she padded to the feeding trough. “Mel, c’mon now, you have personal space manners, I know you do.” Skylar huffed slightly. She scooped a few scoops into the trough, and then held the bucket away as the mare made an attempt to sneak a mouthful out of it.

Foiled, Mel propped her chin between Skylar’s horns, and tickled her lips over the scar there while making an obnoxious noise.

Skylar shot an amused look to Hamish, tucking her chin just slightly so Mel couldn’t get too boisterous with the scar. It was tender- had been ever since it had healed. Touch didn’t bother it, but pressing on it too much is when it hurt. “Remember when I said she keeps me on my toes? This is what I meant.” She patted the mare’s chest, her symbol for her to go ahead and eat, and then stepped out of the way while the eager mare went to start up her meal. Shaking her head, she gave her a fond pat on the flank before stooping to check her hooves. Finding no rocks or anything lodged under them, she stood and exited the stall. “Thanks for waiting, Hamish.”

He smiled and shrugged. "Ain't gonna just leave you out here alone." He said, taking the bucket from her and putting it away. He pulled out a second bucket the word 'ChICkeNs' Scribbled on the bucket in messy black pen. He opened the big doors and walked with Skylar around his house where a small shed was, the chicken coup was built so there was a large open space and then a secure indoor space that could be locked up to keep them safe over night. He opened the coup, pushing them out of the way gently with his feet until he was inside, and began tossing handfuls of the feed into the indoor part of the coup getting all the chickens to rush inside. He smiled and set the bucket down sticking his head inside.

He grinned and stepped in for a second, coming back out with seven eggs, he locked the chickens up inside the indoor second and handed the eggs off to Skylar. "We've got breakfast." He said.

“Awesome!” She beamed. Skylar had lingered back, hustling any loitering hens inside if they lingered too long or hadn’t noticed the food. The eggs she was handed were carefully cradled against her chest so they didn’t break, cushioned by nature’s best pillows. “I dunno about you, but I make a mean fried egg sandwich. Any chance you’ve got a pack of bacon in your freezer? I could make breakfast tomorrow.”

Fried egg sandwiches were good on their own. They were even better, however, with a couple strips of bacon fried up and shoved inside the sandwich. Sausage was also acceptable, but was a little harder to get flattened out enough for sandwich use.

Hamish's face lit up. "Well then, it looks like you're in charge of breakfast then." He said, opening the gate so she could exit the coup.

“I don’t mind makin’ breakfast at all.” She brushed past him lightly so she could slip from the coop, and gave him a grin as she started a languid stroll towards his house while he got the coop all closed up for the night. “It’s probably a bit stereotypical of me, but I enjoy being in the kitchen. Good food after a hard day’s work is the best in my opinion, so stereotypes be damned.”

Hamish closed up the coup and watched her walk back towards the house, his eyes practically glued to her swaying hips. How old was he, 16…? He was acting like he'd never seen a girl before. He shook his head and quickly returned to the stable to put the chicken feed away and then locked up the big doors before jogging back to the house. He kicked his shoes off again and closed the door...it wasn't needed out here so far from everyone but it made him feel better to lock up his front door too.

She’d already made her way inside by the time he’d gotten back, and her boots were back in their original location. Skylar had carefully tucked the eggs into his fridge, and then came back out to meet him at the door. She adjusted her top, and gave him a warm smile while tucking her thumbs into her pockets. Her eyes roamed over him again, and Skylar once more found herself appreciating his form. It was hit or miss on if men could rock jeans- and he definitely could. God, she felt like such a weirdo ogling him, and strove to keep her eyes up on his, where it was more polite. “Alright, eggs are put away for tomorrow. I took out a pack of bacon to thaw for the mornin’, so that’s done…”

It might not be needed, but locking the door was still better than not. It was a good habit to keep. Idly, she wondered how he spent the rest of his evening before bed.

He turned to look at her again and swallowed. He rocked back on his heels slightly. "I… I'm gonna have a shower. Thank you for your help today." He said shuffling past her, to the bathroom. He pushed the door shut and let out a deep breath. He ran his hand over his face, he worked on tugging his shirt over his head, tossing it into a wash basket. He pushed his pants down and sighed again as his hardness became extremely obvious through his boxers, he started the water to let it warm up, he took his boxers off and stepped into the shower, He let the warm water wash over himself. He started with scrubbing himself with soap, he looked down at himself...would it be rude to take care of himself? She wouldn't know?

Skylar had simply smiled to her host as he passed by, and did take a moment to glance at his backside. Oh yes. He definitely fit those pants. Still staring was probably rude.

While he showered, she made her way into his living room and took a seat on the couch. She curled up and relaxed, taking a little bit of time to unwind and simply relax from a long day of riding. As much as she loved it, getting saddle-sore wasn’t something even experienced riders could escape.

Hamish sighed again… it was probably for the best if he relieved himself, then he would be less likely to have more awkward moments. He closed his eyes and reached down to grasp himself, placing one hand on the wall to keep himself balanced as he stroked himself. He bit his tongue, a small grunt escaping his throat.

The shower was loud, so she couldn’t really hear anything from him. Probably for the best- she had little issue believing he had some things to take care of. She probably could use a good climax herself- but that was just rude to do in a house that wasn’t yours. Well, unless you were actively sleeping with- ah, no, bad Skylar. She had just met Hamish- she needed to at least give it a couple days. She might not have had much luck with men, but she’d probably run him off if she tried to jump his bones.

Skylar shifted some on the couch, crossing her legs quietly to ignore the warm feeling down below as she relaxed. She was a bit tired, but still relatively wound up. She was in a strangers house, technically, and didn’t really want to go poking around to entertain herself. So, she resolved to wait for Hamish to come out to chat before they retired for the night. Early to bed, early to rise- unless work ran late, of course.

Hamish hadn't realised how pent up he had been it's didn't take him too long to finish himself off with an rather loud grunt that made him slap his hand over his mouth. At least he felt a lot better now, he cleaned off his had and made sure any mess he had made was washed down the drain before shutting the water off and stepping out, he scrubbed himself down roughly with a towel then tied it around his hips. He took a breath and opened the door...he shuffled through the house passed where Skylar was in the lounge. "Nhh Sorry, 'scuse me." he said as he crossed the lounge to get to his room.

The loud grunt was definitely audible, and boy howdy, did she suspect what THAT had been about. She managed not to blush, up until Hamish came shuffling through the house in naught but a towel. Blue covered her cheeks traitorously.

She couldn’t help but stare, peeking over the couch as she watched him shuffle to his room. Holy shit- he might have been in his late forty’s, but damn, he didn’t look it. “It’s alright,” She called lightly, not quite able to stop herself from the flirt that fell from her lips. “I don’t mind the view.”

Hamish entered his room and pushed the door shut letting his towel fall to the floor. He rubbed his hands over his face, he was a mess. He walked over to his dresser and opened it finding himself a fresh pair of underwear. 'do you think if I just walked out there now and suggested  it… maybe we could… no, that’s creepy. Do something like that and she'll take off and never come back.' he thought to himself. He pulled on his pajama pants, usually he'd just go shirtless but there was a lady in the house, he found a comfy shirt and pulled it on then walked over to his dresser spraying himself with deodorant. He took in a breath again, mentally preparing himself to face her again.

Skylar silently hoped she hadn’t just offended her host with her light flirt, and shifted again on the couch. She lightly folded her hands in her lap, pursing her lips thoughtfully, and then resolved to apologize for her terrible flirt when he came out. She was rusty at flirting- never had been the best at it either- and it probably showed.

“Oh goodness, I’m so bad at this,” she murmured lightly to herself. Flirting hadn’t been her forte- at least not conscious flirting.

Hamish pulled open his door and walked out sitting down on a couch opposite her. He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. "Sorry, if I seemed kinda awkward, I'm really just not use to having female company… especially female company as beautiful as you." He silently prayed she took his comment as a compliment.

She definitely took it for a compliment. Skylar gave him a small smile, her cheeks tinting a blue hue as her eyes brightened. She picked up a waft of his deodorant, and found the smell mingled nicely with his smell that she could pick up from the couch. "It's alright. I know the effect I can have on men sometimes. To be honest, I probably seem a little awkward too. It's been a long time since I've been around a genuinely nice man who has proven thus far to be attractive not just on the surface." She uncrossed and crossed her legs again, stretching out just a little bit. "I'm a little rusty when it comes to flirting." She admits softly, watching him to gage his reaction to the admission that she was attracted to him, as well as calling him attractive. He was- not in the 'pretty boy' way- attractive in a more ruggedly handsome way. She liked it, a lot. His personality was what was really catching her eye though.

His mouth twitches into a smile he slumped back in the couch and let out a sigh of relief. "Honestly you make me feel like some kid who just discovered girls." He said, saying it out loud made him feel better. "I’d hate to rush into anything and mess things up."

She deflates with a relieved sound, and gives him a warm smile. "I feel the same. Though in opposite. It's hard to take my eyes off of you. I'm... Willing to try things, but getting to know each other better is a must." She quirks a cheery grin at him. Their biggest problem, she feels, would probably be sexual tension at this point. They were both attracted, but rushing would be bad. "Glad to know I'm not the only one feeling this way though."

Hamish grinned. At least now that they where on even ground with their feelings the flirting could be turned up a notch, more playful.

She eyed his grin with a growing one of her own. She leaned back, crossing her arms easily under her breasts, and then offered him a wink. Flirting could begin in earnest- even if she was rusty as hell. "You know, Hamish, you have a handsome grin. So, how do you usually spend your evenings?"

He laughed. "I'm gonna sound like a real bachelor, but usually I shower and then walk around the place naked with a beer until I'm ready to sleep."

She laughed along with him. “Like I said before when you were walkin’ through in your towel, I certainly wouldn’t mind the view.” She winks lightly at him. “You’re welcome to have your beer like usual if you want, I wont mind.” She didn’t drink usually, though she could hold her liquor with the best of them.

He stood up and walked over to the fridge, collecting and cracking open a can before taking a sip. He sat back and chuckled. "Wouldn't mind the view huh? Let see if you're still saying that when I wake up and forget you're here and walk out naked." He laughed, although his cheeks did heat slightly because that was a possibility.

Skylar giggled softly as he returned to his seat. “To be fair, you might get flashed in the morning. The girls,” she motions with her chin to her chest, “tend to escape when I’m sleeping, and I don’t always notice when I wake up.” Considering the frequency of their escape attempts, sometimes it was just easier to let them loose and go about her morning. It was different when her brothers were home, and more than once she had traumatized them when they came home earlier than expected. “I usually sleep in an oversized button up shirt, but the buttons tend to come undone. Can’t sleep in a pull over shirt, sadly.”

"You can borrow one of my shirts…if you'd be more comfortable." He suggested, although being able to catch a glimpse of her uncovered chest didn't sound like the worst thing to wake up to.

“Over sized or under sized, they escape either way. It’s an unfortunate part of being big-chested and unable to wear things that don’t zip or button up.” She smiles to him. “That was really sweet of you to offer though. I might take you up on that, if I can’t find anything in the wardrobe for nighttime.”

Hamish smiled and took a sip from the can an almost smug look on his face. "I suppose we're both well endowed then...not to try and sound full of myself."

Skylar arched a brow at him and tilted her head slightly with a lopsided smile and a pleased wink. He wouldn’t be the first man to think himself well endowed, but not all of them actually were. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt though- he looked pretty damn big when she’d caught sight of him. Either way, small or large, it was the skill that mattered. Size just made it more fun. “Well, I don’t tend to believe it until I see it. I suppose I’ll have to confirm for myself if you come out buck-naked. Gives me something extra to look forward to in the morning, doesn’t it? I certainly hope you’re tellin’ the truth though. That could mean a lot of fun~"

Hamish's face turned red, and he lifted the can to his mouth and tipped it up, drinking down the rest of it quickly.

Skylar leaned back and got comfortable again, folding her hands cheerily in her lap at his blush. Her own tinted her cheeks. She’d been a bit forward- but goodness, his blush was worth it. A shy smile tilted her lips up, and she watched him ponderously. Honestly, she was growing fonder and fonder of his blush the more she got to witness it. He didn’t have his hat on to hide it- though she supposed the beer can did block some. “So,” she hummed softly to give him a moment to cool his face, “What does your usual day look like work wise? I intend to tag along, though I’ll be swinging by every so often to check on the pretty Momma out in the back yard.”

Hamish shrugged. "On an average day I just do maintenance, fix things up here and there." He said. "The days are usually pretty slow."

“That’s not too bad.” She hums. “Well, like I said, I can repair, but building isn’t my forte. Or cars.” There was a reason she was so far off from home on horseback, after all. “It’ll be fun. Work is actually a lot of fun.” She shifted in her seat and stretched out with a soft sigh, slowly unwinding from the day’s travels. Her shirt rode up a bit, showing a bit of pale blue skin on her belly. A slightly sleepy yawn was nearly pulled from her, but she managed to stop it. Once the yawning started, it was only downhill from there.

Hamish's eyes trailed down to her belly. That imaginative part of his brain that seemed to only want to think with his dick at the moment was screaming at him to get up and make a move on her, while the part of his mind that was a complete idiot kept him sitting in the chair quietly. He put the empty can down on a side table and slumped down.

She wasn’t daft- the way his eyes trailed down sent a curl of heat to her lower regions, and her bare toes curled just slightly as her eye lights brightened in response. Skylar propped her chin onto her palm, and lightly traced her other fingers along the bared part of her middle. Was it a tease? Yes, yes it was.

Really, it wasn’t all that bad if they had a roll in the hay on the first meeting, was it? They were both consenting adults- and sexual tension was unfortunately something that could distract from work. Her eye lights traveled from his face downwards, lingering over his chest for a moment. She’d seen his bare upper half- and he was delicious looking. Her gaze drifted lower- she had high hopes that down under would be just as enticing.

Hamish blinked at her, watching her expression and the way her eyes where moving. "What are you thinking?" He asked, his voice softer than usual. He watched her fingers then pulled his eyes up to watch her face again.

“Mostly lustful thoughts,” She admits honestly, eyes drifting back up to his face again. The softer tone in his voice makes her pause, and then Skylar continues in a softer tone of voice as well. “Lots of lustful thoughts.” Her voice purrs. “About scooting off of this couch, sliding on over to you, and maybe… showing you how a real cowgirl rides. You know the saying, right?” Her eye lights twinkle merrily. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy? I’m thinkin’ about that real hard.”

Hamish swallowed and sat up. "Then do it." He said, his voice cracking slightly with nerves. "Save a horse."

He basically just gave her permission. A slow grin crawled up her face, and she nodded. Skylar eased off the couch, taking her time to saunter over to him. When she reached him, she eased her fingers slowly up to his shoulders, and used him to balance herself as she straddled his lap. Her legs folded neatly, leaving the warmth at her core to press flush to him. Her hips rocked slightly against his, and she peered up teasingly at his face, before leaning closer. Her lips brushed against the side of his skull. “Ride a cowboy~” She purred. “I’m thinkin’ the both of us have too many clothes for that, though. Care to… help me with that problem, sugar?”

Hamish let out a shaky breath, his hands moving to rest on her hips at first. He waited for a moment, and then eased his hands up. He unbuttoned her outer shirt and under shirt, and then he swallowed hard when her breast were in full view. They where doing this...he was allowed right? He cupped them in his hands and leaned in to kiss her breasts. focusing on them for a moment before moving back, his cheeks bright red.

He tugged his own shirt over his head and then cupped her cheek, he moved the hand on her cheek down to support her back and hooked the other under her legs and with a grunt he stood himself up, carrying her to his bedroom, he kicked the door shut behind him and laid her down on his bed. He took but a moment before he was leaning down to attack her neck with love bites and kisses.

Skylar could honestly say she had never been carried to anyone’s bed before Hamish had done it. His kisses to her breasts had been delightful, though it hadn’t lasted hardly long enough for her tastes, before she was swiftly carried off. Still, her pleased sounds surely were enough to encourage more touches later.

Her hands found their way to his back as he ravished her neck. Tingles of pleasure crawled over her skin as she tilted her skull back, a blatant offering for him to explore and nibble to his heart’s content. Her hips, meanwhile, were hardly inactive. Her legs hooked over his hips, and she rocked her pelvis upwards to press to his. Their pants were still in the way- but that didn’t stop her from rocking the center of her warmth against his pajama pants. Her short pants were ones with buttons- but that was a task they could handle as they came to it.

Skylar’s breath quickened, her fingers raking gently but firmly over the muscles rolling under his skin, and she took a moment to gyrate her hips against his, grinding warmly against the hidden shape of his member. Bare breasts pressed against his chest as she breathed, nipples hardening as they brushed teasingly over his chest as excitement quickened her respiration.

Hamish moved from her neck down to her breasts again, rolling ove in the palm of his hand while he kissed and swirls his tongue around the nipple of the second. They where so soft and perfect.

The grinding of her crotch against his member had gotten it to harden again, the flexible material of his pyjama pants made it much easier to see now, he rocked his hips back against her, not wanting her to do all the work, still paying attention to her breasts with his mouth his hands moved down to start working on removing her pants, fumbling with the buttons before popping them open and sliding them down an off her hips letting them drop to the floor.

He braved cupping her crotch through her underwear, his fingers rubbing against the material to stimulate her, he used his other hand to push of his pajama pants and underwear together, leaving him naked on top of her.

Being wrested of her pants didn't bother her, the sudden stimulation from his fingers making her legs jolt and warmth shoot up her spine. She was warm and already damp through the lacy material, and she rolled her hips lightly into his fingers to encourage him.

One hand remained on Hamish's shoulder, while the other trailed down to his bare hips. While her mouth leaned up to claim his shoulder, intending to give just as good as she got, her free hand snaked down and curled around his cock. She stroked gently from his base up until his tip, before sliding back down again, all the while making sure she didn't accidentally jab him with one of her forward curling horns.

She pulled back from his neck with a pleasantly surprised look, meeting his gaze with her own and flushing a bright sky blue color. "Well, sugar, you sure are well endowed, aren't you?"

Hamish couldn't hold back the deep blush that felt like it covered his entire face. He pressed his face into her breasts, his hips pushing forward slightly, as he tried to thrust himself into her hand. He lifted his head and gave her a breathy laugh before pressing his mouth against hers, moving his lips against hers in a hot kiss.

His fingers pushed the fabric of her underwear aside, the tips of his fingers brushing through her folds catching her wetness on his fingers and using it as lube to smoothly rub his fingers in circles against her clit. She was so warm, his cock-twitched eager to bury itself inside her.

Her mouth moved smoothly against his own, lips heated and warm. He tasted of the beer he had drank, and she found herself craving more than just a taste. Parting only for a moment to catch her breath, Skylar gently nipped his lip, and tugged him back down for another searing kiss. Her hand on his back eased up to stroke soft fingers down his neck, tweaking the vertebrae gently.

Her hips rocked against his fingers, a soft, airy gasp of his name escaping their kiss as her eye lights brightened and her eyes slid to half-mast. Her hand shifted motions, stroking him at the same easy pace that he worked her clit. She was warm and wet, and only growing wetter under his touch. Her hips twitched and rocked, tendrils of arousal tightening her lower belly. Her fingers dipped down, collected some of her moistness, and then slid back up to his cock. The added lubricant made her strokes smoother, and she slid her thumb up to the tip, teasing the end of her thumb along the slit at the top.

Hamish groaned into their kiss, rocking his hips into her strokes. He slid his fingers back down and pushed one inside, easing it in and out of her.

Her warmth around his finger made his body shiver. He wanted his cock pushed deep inside her, so he added a second finger to help prepare her.

His fingers weren’t what she really wanted- but preparing was better than not, especially given his size. She was tight around his fingers, walls fluttering and clinging to his fingers as he rocked in and out of her. The second finger felt good, and a pleased moan escaped from her throat.

Skylar stroked his member again, fingers mimicking the pulsations of her walls. She broke the kiss long enough to catch her breath again, and used that moment to speak. “Hamish,” She purred, voice airy and needy, and eyes just screaming ‘take me’. “I want you in me, Hamish~” His name rolled from her lips like the sweetest purr, and she punctuated it with a soft moan and a tremble of her legs around his hips.

Hamish pushed himself up gently pulling his fingers from her and tugging her underwear off. He shifted himself over her and held his cock, brushing it between her wet folds to make his cock slick. He pressed the tip to her entrance and slipped inside.

She angled her hips as he slipped inside, parting her thighs further to welcome him as close as possible. He was bigger than she had imagined, and it was a tight fit, like a glove just the right size. It was a little uncomfortable at first- she hadn’t been filled in a long, long time. But, a little discomfort didn’t distract from the pleasure of being filled, and she couldn’t help the pleased moan that escaped her as he worked himself in.

Her hips weren’t idle. They rocked and rolled gently against him, making her fluttering walls stroke their slickness along his length until she had taken him to the hilt. Her hands found his shoulders, curling up around them so she could brace herself on the rolling muscles, and her mouth trailed down to his neck, kissing and nibbling along his neck and shoulders.

Skylar’s breathing was quick, breasts bouncing with each heave of her chest, and she trembled each time her nipples brushed against him.

She felt even better than he thought she would. His hands massaged her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. He took in a shaky nervous breath, and then pulled out slightly before pushing back in. He had had sex with a small handful of girls, but he could confidently say Skylar was the best girl he had been with.

Skylar’d had her fair share of romps with guys in her day, some of them better than others. Not many left her satisfied though- and she could say that Hamish was well on his way to being one of the few that had. He was definitely the biggest one that had, that was for sure. Only once their romp was finished, could she safely judge best in show- but this cowboy was certainly looking to be the best one yet.

His thumbs over her nipples made her shiver, gooseflesh pebbling up in response as her eye lights dilated and she arched her chest up into his hands. She rocked her hips gently into his, meeting his hesitant thrust with an encouraging motion as her legs shifted over his hips. Her walls clung to him slickly, the light blue flesh pulsing eagerly for more of his girth.

Her mouth kisses from his neck upwards, and she claims his lips for another kiss.

He thrust into again, slowly building up rhythm and confidence, his thrusts became quicker and harder, his hands still working her breasts and his mouth moving against hers.

Skylar met each thrust with a rock and a grind of her own. She was hardly idle, and her hands wandered up and down his back. Her fingertips scraped light lines down his muscles as her mouth worked against his, eyes half-lidded and gleaming with pleasure. The continued attention to the sensitive buds on her breasts brought soft moans from her throat, and she trembled under him, heat coiling sharply in her belly. The coil was winding tighter and tighter, making her pulse and flex around his cock quicker and quicker.

Hamish grunted his thrusts becoming quick and snappy, he wasn't pulling out as far signaling he was getting close to climax. He pressed messy kisses against her mouth. "Mhn, you're beautiful." He mumbled between kisses.

She wasn’t far behind him there. Skylar hadn’t had decent sex in a long time- and while he might have been hesitant, he was good at what he did. Between all the simulation, she was nearing her own edge. “You’re- ah~- so handsome.” Her words were mumbled as well, carried out on gasping and groaning breaths as her legs twitched around him. She flexed some, rolling her hips and gyrating against him when she could. Her motions were coming out shaky as the coil in her belly gained a static like tingle to it, like lightning ready to strike.

Each messy kiss was met with one of her own, one hand coming up to cradle his cheek so she could stroke her thumb gingerly along the ridge of his cheekbone.

Hamish took one hand from her breast and reached down to rub her clit while he thrust into her. "I want you to cum." He whispered.

The stimulation to her clit on top of everything else sent lightning up her back. He wanted her to cum? It wouldn’t be long at all before he brought her right over the edge.

Skylar was a little over stimulated between the kissing, thrusting, attention to her breasts now being joined by the swirling strokes of his fingers against her clit. Her hips twitched, fingers sliding down to his shoulders, and she didn’t really have a chance to warn him. It was, truly, the rumble of his voice and his request reaching her ears that threw her over the edge of the abyss.

Her back arched under him, head tossing back and eyes squeezing shut as she cried out his name. “Ahh~ Hamish!” She tightened around him, muscles in her legs bringing him closer and hilting him by reflex as she came. Her walls squeezed him, milking him tightly and fluttering erratically as she was lost to the waves of her orgasm.

He let out a moan of his own wrapping his arms around her body as he came. He held onto her tightly, letting himself fill her and her tight walls milk him of whatever was left in him.

Milk him she did. Her legs held him tight, and she enjoyed the sensation of him filling her with his cum. Her hips twitched lightly against him, and she held on tightly as she rode it out.

As it began to fade, her erratic breathing began to calm, and she snuggled closer to him with a pleased purr. Her eye lights trailed up to his face, and she planted a soft kiss to his jaw.

He let himself catch his breath then gently pulled out and laid with her, kissing her mouth and face. He shifted and pulled his bed sheets over them, and then wrapping his arms around her.

Skylar had no trouble snuggling up next to him. She was pleasantly sore, but she didn’t mind the ache. At least, she mused, that he wasn’t the sort to boot a lady out of bed after a round of mind-blowing sex. Skylar quite enjoyed cuddling. An amusing thought trickled into her head, and she giggled softly, before kissing him again. “That,” she purrs, “gives a whole new meaning to ride hard and put away wet, huh sugar?”

Hamish let out a sleepy laugh and smiled. His hands gently massaging her hip. "I hope it was as good for you as it was for me."

“Oh heavens yes.” She giggled softly. The hand on her hip felt nice, and she snuggled carefully up to him. Her leg shifted and hooked on his, tangling affectionately as she wiggled closer and rolled to put her back to his chest. Her rump settled against his pelvis, and Skylar let out a pleased sound. He might not have been too much taller than her, but goodness, it felt nice to be able to be the little spoon for once. It was harder to be the big spoon on account of her horns. “I certainly wouldn’t mind a repeat performance- but a nap first, I think.”

He nodded in agreement, resting against her. "Feels good to share my bed with someone that isn't my dogs." He said, the smile obvious in his tone. He let his eyes close and his body rest.

He was warm at her back, and Skylar found her body relaxing against his. She stretched a little bit, and her smile bloomed. "They'd probably be in here if the door wasn't shut." She was familiar with how dogs tended to sneak in. Skylar exhaled softly, and settled. The best thing about her body shape, she mused, is that she was a soft and supple bedmate, but under the softness was the muscle that let her do the kind of work she did. She was great for cuddling.

It didn't take long for Hamish to fall asleep. Cumming twice in such a close amount of time had completely exhausted him. He nuzzled against her in his sleep, satisfied and happy.

She took a little longer, but eventually the soft puffs of air against her neck lulled her to sleep as well. She hugged his arm to her chest, and went to sleep with him warm and safe at her back.

 Hamish squeezed his eyes shut when the sun peeking through his window fell across his face, he groaned and moved his arm to cover his face. Or, well, he tried to. His eyes opened and his cheeks turned red. He has slept with her and she was still here, asleep all night in his arms. His mouth twitched into a dorky, smug looking smile, he leant down and kissed her neck. "Good morning, beautiful." He purred.

Skylar nuzzled into his pillow with a sleepy sound, having not been stirred by the sunlight. She'd spent several days roughing it before she had made it to town, and the sun didn't bother her much. The soft kisses along her neck stirred her, and the voice purring into her ear fully roused her. Sky blue eye lights appeared as she blinked them open, a soft purr escaping her as she stretched and arched, pressing back against him. It took her a moment to be aware enough to recognize the voice.

A flush tinted over her cheeks, and she tilted her skull enough to peek at him from under the shadow of one of her horns. "Mmm, it's a better morning here with you, sugar."

He chuckled and rolled onto his back, stretching out and yawning, he cuddled her against his side and let out a content sigh. "I could spend all day like this. I don't think there has been any other time I wanted that.”

She rolled so she could drape against his side, carefully settling her head against his chest. So long as he was careful, he wouldn't poke himself on her horns. "Mmm, I feel you. Spending the whole day in bed would be nice... Unfortunately for us, our line of work doesn't permit lazy days." She laughed gently. "But I think I promised you breakfast, didn't I? That should be enough to tempt us from your sheets. Besides, we have tonight too, if you'd like my company tonight." She peeked shyly up at him, and traced her fingers gently up and down his chest.

He nodded. "I'd share my bed with you every night. I haven't felt this good in years." He said happily, running his hand down her side.

She squirmed a bit as his fingers ran over her ribs, and stifled a giggle. Skylar was a bit ticklish if the touch was feather light. "Neither have I." She smiled happily, and pressed an affectionate kiss to his pectoral muscles. "Well, you'll have me any night you want while I'm here."

He kissed her shoulder then sat up to stretch his spine joints popping he swung his legs over the side of the bed and opened his bedside table drawer. He pulled out his deodorant and sprayed under one arm then blinked at the contents of the drawer, a pack of condoms he had bought a while back when he thought he had a chance with girl he'd met in a bar was just sitting in there he swallowed hard and sprayed under his other arm. He had completely forgotten about using one.

She stretched a little bit, and then eased to the side of the bed. Her thighs were a little sticky, but she could wash them off in the bathroom. She eased to her feet, stretching again, and then flicked him a smile. His natural smell mixed well with his deodorant. "Mind if I borrow a shirt, Hamish? I promised food, and I'm not brave enough to fry bacon shirtless." Pants less she could do- but hot bacon grease did not mix with breasts. That was just asking for burns. She might be able to handle hot pans, but the flesh was not as sturdy as the bones were.

He blinked then turned to her. "Oh yeah sure." He stood up and opened his wardrobe. "You can pick anything you like." He said.

She padded over, giving him a smile and slipping next to him to peer inside. She located one of his larger shirts, one close to the color of his eyes, and then unbuttoned it. It took her but a moment to do, the motions from years of practice, and soon she was clad in one of his shirts.

It came down below her butt, but if she lifted her arms, he would get a lovely view. She left the top few buttons undone, and then leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Thanks, Hamish. I'm going to go use the bathroom, and then I'll get started on breakfast."

He nodded and watched her leave the room then pressed his hands over his face. He had fucked up, how could he have completely forgotten to use a condom. What if she was- no it would be okay, maybe she was on birth control, she would have said to use one if she wasn't. He breath out a sigh and got himself dressed.

A quick trip to the bathroom had Skylar realizing belatedly that they hadn't used a condom. She cleaned up as best she could, and grimaced. She hadn't been taking birth control in several days. She had run out while on the way to the town... She ran her fingers over her belly, and frowned to herself. Well... If she got pregnant, she would handle it as it came. She was pretty sure she was going to be fine... But she supposed her period would tell her yay or nay on that. Skylar knew birth control lingered in one's system for a while. Her mother had been on it for years until she and her dad decided it was time to have kids, but it still took her eight months to actually get pregnant.

Skylar took a deep breath, relieved herself, and then headed to the kitchen after washing up. She got started on the bacon, knowing eggs fried in bacon grease were the best. A little salt and pepper would go a long way, too.

He would come out to her humming to herself, still in just his shirt, while poking at bacon in a pan as it heated.

Hamish stepped out of his room and took in a deep breath. "Smells good." He said, he walked over to her and cuddled against her back he kissed her neck then moved away. "I'm going to let my horses out." He said walking to the front door, both dogs jumped up and bounced to the front door. Hamish pulled his booths on and opened the door, both doors running outside he followed them outside and walked out to the stable, he opened up the gate then the stall doors letting his horses out into the paddock. He checked Mel’s water and refilled it.

Skylar smiled to herself at the kiss and cuddle and gave him a wave as he went out. She didn't mind working on breakfast while he let the horses out. She would need to give Mel some exercise, or she would get mischievous if she didn't get ridden or at least let out into pasture. She just hoped Mel behaved herself with Hamish.

Mel gave him a peculiar look, the mare not quite sure why he smelled strongly of her rider, and then shoved her nose against his back. She nibbled at his shirt, and shifted restlessly on her hooves, demanding attention since her rider wasn't here for her morning exercise. He didn't have a hat on to steal, or the wily mare would have stolen it.

Hamish turned and scratched under her jaw. "What’s up?" He cooed. He gave her a pat and moved out of her stall. He jogged back to the house and kicked his boots off, walking back to the kitchen. "How're you goin?" He asked.

By the time he came back, Skylar had the bacon done, and was cracking the eggs into the pan. They landed with a sizzle, and she leaned over to slide slices of bread into his toaster. They were better toasted, really. She tilted her skull back as he padded in, and gave him a lopsided grin. "Doing alright. Got the bacon done, and the eggs will be quick to do. Do you want mayo on your sandwich? How are the horses?"

Hamish nodded. "Yes please." He chuckled. "I think we'll was curious about why I smelt like you." It made him blush slightly to say it.

She laughed gently and flushed. "Probably. She's always been a smart mare, even when she was just a filly. I'll need to either let her out to graze, or take her for a ride today, or she'll be getting into mischief." Skylar hummed, and scooted over to get the first set of toast as it popped up. She set another two to brown, having used whatever setting he had his set to, and then moved for a knife and some mayo. "If she steals your hat, it's best to just wait until she bored with playing with you. Or, if you have it on hand, a bit of molasses works as a bribe."

His sandwich was done first. Bread, mayo, bacon, egg, more bacon, mayo, and then bread again. Completely unhealthy, but utterly delicious tasting and smelling. She slid his sandwich on a plate, and smiled while working on her own. "Yours is done, Hamish. Might want to give it a minute to cool, though."

He took the plate and set it on the table to cool, he curled his arms around her waist and sighed. "Almost feels like I've known you for years." He mumbled. He watched her cook over her shoulder.

Skylar didn't mind, and leaned into him contently. "It's odd, but I feel the same." She quirks her lips slightly. It made her wonder if love at first sight held some merit. She hummed, spreading a thin layer of mayo over the bread, and layering bacon over it. She had an extra piece that didn't fit on her sandwich, and so offered it up to her shoulder and held it for him to eat. "I don't think I mind the feeling though."

He took the bacon out of her hand chewing it happily. He nodded and slid his hand down her sides and gave her butt a playful smack grinning and kissing her neck quickly before moving away to sit down at the table to eat.

The smack made her squeak, and she blushed brightly, giggling softly under his kiss. Goodness, he was flirty in the morning. She liked it.

Once she had her sandwich, Skylar padded to the table and took a seat across from him. Her legs stretched out and brushed his, before her bare toes began to ease their way up the inside seam of his pants. She gave him an innocent smile as she took a bite from her meal. "You like?" She queried once she had swallowed her mouthful, indicating his sandwich as she brushed her ankle teasingly over the inside of his thigh. Playing footsie was easy teasing.

A little bit of mayo got on her finger, and she pulled back her sandwich to lick it off of her finger tip. "After breakfast, I'll go get dressed and take a peek at the little lady in your back yard and see how she's doing."

Hamish ate his sandwich quietly, watching her across the table. He smiled at the feeling of her foot on his leg. "That sounds good." He replied, trying to act like her teasing didn't effect him.

"Mhm." She munched through her sandwich quietly, taking her time and enjoying it while teasing him. Her foot wandered a little closer with a bold motion, ghosting a faint touch against his crotch seam before dancing back down to his actual feet. "Mmm. Fried egg sandwiches are amazing." It wasn't like they didn't work off the unhealthy meals during the days work, so they could indulge from time to time when they wanted.

Hamish's eyes flicked down to catch a quick glimpse of her foot on his crotch before it disappeared again. He swallowed his mouthful and took another bite. "You’re a very good cook." he commented. And a very good tease, he mused silently to himself.

She grinned lazily, and let her foot retreat back to her side of the table. "Thank you. I had to be. If I wanted to eat decently while out on the range with my brothers, I had to learn to be a good cook. My brothers could burn water." She snorts in light amusement, a fond smile tugging at her lips.

She was close with her family, obviously. A lot of ranchers were, though

He smiled. "You seem really close with your siblings." He looked down at his food and took another bite. "I often feel I might have missed out on some....I dunno, secret bonus you get from having' siblings… like the whole… partners in crime kinda thing."

"My siblings and I are pretty close. I helped raise them." She smiles. "There are benefits and drawbacks to siblings. They help me run the herd, and let me get away now and then for some time to myself, or to get some stuff done. I was actually scoping out the market in the town. The one near our place has... Gotten a bit... Shady." She shakes her head with an amused sound. "Anyways. Drawbacks to siblings-" she leans up to tap a finger against the large scar in her skull, "is they can convince you to do some pretty dumb shit." The story behind her scar was a hilarious one, really.

Hamish took a moment to really look hard at the scar. "What happened?" He asked, interested now.

She scrubs a hand down her face and laughs. "The boys have smaller horns than I do, and liked to tease me about them as they were growing up. I don't remember a lot of the specifics," on account of the fact that she'd gotten her skull literally split, "but somehow they got me out into the paddock with one of the bulls we were tryin' to get rid of after I'd had a bit to drink. Something about being able to handle herd problems like my Dad could. The bull was a Simbra- meanest animal you'd ever meet. Anyways, little bit of liquid courage had me literally lockin' horns with him. Literally knocked me sober, and after my brother's bailed me out, they hauled my ass off to the hospital. To be fair, the bull never gave me trouble again. Still chases my brothers though, if they get too close. Other than a nasty temper, he's a good bull. Keeps the cows safe."

Hamish's brows raised. "You took on a bull head on...literally." He laughed. "You just became 100 x more attractive." He grinned. God he was fucking lucky to have gone to town that day, he'd never find another girl alive like Skylar, she was 100% perfect.

She blushed brightly and laughed softly. "I did, yeah. Earned his respect too. I can walk up to him now and anything. He doesn't, however, like men." She finished her sandwich, and leaned back in her chair. "I wouldn't recommend taking a bull head on though. It hurts something awful. My brothers and I are built a bit sturdier than the average skeleton, and that's probably why he didn't crush my skull flat out. If you remind me, I'll show you why. I've got a picture of my Dad in my saddlebags."

"Oh jeez...hope your dad wont take me head on for rolling in the hay with you…he's not one’na those super over protective dad types is he?" Hamish asked, a small sweat drop beading on his head. He finished off his food and took the plates to the sink to wash up.

"Nah, Dad's been gone since I was sixteen. He met a stallion that he couldn't tame." She shakes her head. "He'd have liked you a lot though... You might have to contend with my brothers though. One one of the triplets is shorter than me, but the other two are taller than us both. My youngest is about seven foot eight, I think. We stopped measuring there, anyways. Took after my dad, he did. The rest of us are closer to my mom's height. I might be the oldest, but they try to protect me as best they can." She chuckles lightly. "Their horns are smaller than mine though, so I think you'll be okay."

Skylar stands, ogling his backside for a moment, before stretching. She needed to go snag more clothes from the guest wardrobe.

"And I thought I was tall." He said, half to himself. He put the plates aside to dry and moved back over to Skylar leaning down to kiss her creek, slipping his hands over her breasts down to her thighs, he pulled up the shirt slightly and made a soft noise. "You might wanna get dressed, or I won't be able to concentrate on my work."

"You'll see why we're all tall eventually." She laughed lightly. She leaned into his touch, and leaned up to kiss him. She pressed flush to him for a moment, teasing him slightly, and then leaned back some. "That's where I was headed. Heh. I'd say we could go a round now," she purrs, "but once we start we probably won't crawl out of bed until lunch. But..." Her fingers trace over his chest teasingly, and she smiled up at him. "We've got all of tonight, sugar."

He smiled. "A reward if we work hard today." He suggested playfully. He moved back to allow her room to get up then walked off to the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth.

She smiled at that and scooted into the guest room. She snagged more clothes, but left his larger shirt. None of the smaller ones would be good for hard work. She would literally pop out.

Skylar mused that she really needed to see if she could borrow his washing machine for her clothes in her saddlebags.

It didn't take her all that long to get dressed, and she scooted out into the main room once again, carefully tucking his shirt in so it didn't get in the way of her pockets.

Hamish had washed up in the bathroom to make himself look more presentable... not that it really mattered no one but Skylar was going to see him and he's sure she didn't mind his messy look, it just made him feel better. He was waiting for her in the lounge, sitting on the arm of a chair.

She took a moment to roll up the sleeves on the flannel, shoving it as far up as her arms as they would go, and then leaned down to give him a kiss. "Mind if I borrow your washing machine tonight when we get in again? Your mom's tops are okay for in the house, but if I tried to do anything productive in them, you'd be getting an impromptu show." Which would probably result in something being dropped. "I've got clothes in my saddlebags that could use a wash."

Hamish nodded. "Oh yeah, of course. What’s mine is yours." He said opening the front door for her as he tugged his boots on. Following her out after he headed over to the heavily pregnant cow, she moo'ed happily and pushed her nose through the fence.

Skylar had taken a moment to take her hat in hand, though didn't put it on with her boots. "Thanks, Hamish." She smiled. "You're the best."

She greeted the heavily pregnant cow with a smile after depositing her hat on the railing, leaning down to rub her nose as she pressed it though. "There's our pretty Momma," she crooned softly. She eased into the pen, and scooted back to check her backside. She perked. "Oh yeah. She'll be calving soon. She's stringing pretty heavily," which was the cattle equivalent of losing the mucus plug, "so you'll probably have bouncing babies by tomorrow evening."

Hamish sighed. "That’s good. She's a real pretty cow. Probably gonna make some of the prettiest calves on my farm" He said, scratching under the cows chin as he talked. He looked out into the horse paddock, the pregnant mare's belly was large too. "Maybe we should check on my other mama. She still has weeks to go, but I like just giving her a check over too."

"You've got some show quality cows." She smiles and nods. She observes for a few more minutes, before giving him another nod and following his gaze to the other pregnant animal. "Might be for the best. If you're selling the foal, you want to stay close in case complications during birth happen. You might not want to go far from your farm until the foal is here. She's not having twins too, is she?"

Hamish shook his head. "No I had the vet out here to check her a few weeks back when they where here checking the cows. It's just one foal." He said walking over to the gate to the paddock and jumping it, the mare lifted her head and began slowly walking over to him.

She followed after him, jumping the gate with the same ease he did, and then smiled lightly at the mare. "That's good. Horses with twins are less common than cows with twins are." She padded closer taking a look while giving the mare her space. Skylar was a stranger in her paddock while she was pregnant- it was better to give her space so she could decide if Skylar was welcome or not. Mates were more temperamental than cows were. "She looks healthy," she hummed, slowly offering her hand out for  the mare to smell if she so desired. "Strong too. Looks like you kept her well exercised, so she should be in better shape after she delivers. When is she due?

The mare pressed her face against Hamish's chest, "she still has about a month." He said, running his hands down the mares sides. The mare focused on Skylar, brushing her muzzle against Skylar’s fingers before stepping towards her and pushing her nose into the palm of Skylar’s hand. "She wants you the pet her." He said with a smile.

"Mares don't tend to be like cows. I have been charged by more than one irate mare for getting in her considered territory while she was pregnant." She chuckles. The demand for attention has her bringing up her other hand, and she slips it under her chin, scratching and rubbing gently along the areas that horses tended to have a hard time itching for themselves. "A month isn't bad. She looks good and happy, so she should deliver safely. Ain't that right, sweet thing? You're a healthy Momma." She cooed softly.

Hamish chuckled. "She's always been pretty good. This foal would be her third." he said rubbing his hand over the round of her belly.

"That's good." Her hands trailed down, and she eased along her side. She rubbed her fingers along her side, and then slipped them down to rub along the underside of her belly. She could feel faint movement from the foal within. "Foal is moving nicely. Heh." Skylar grins quietly, a soft and warm look flirting over her face. "Gah, I love baby animals. And babies in general, really." Made her really wish for her own. Now that she actually had time, that was.

Hamish flushed slightly. "You want kids?" He asked, looking at her over the mares back.

Skylar's blush flooded over her cheeks again. "I do, yeah. I'd like a whole gaggle of them, really. Been feeling my clock ticking for years now. Haven't been able to do nothin' though, since I was busy on the ranch. What about you?" Her eye lights flicker over to him, and she leans her arms gently on the mare, peering across at him just as he did to her.

His face turned red. "I always wanted kids. Was telling my parents since I was little I'd marry a pretty girl and have lots of kids." He said smiling at the memory.

She brightened cheerily and nodded. "I was a bit different when I was younger. More focused on farm work, and raising my brothers alongside Mom. However, when my brothers got older, I missed having kids underfoot. The triplets were a handful, but... It was fun. Definitely ready for my own little ones to be getting underfoot. Maybe not three at once though."

Hamish smiled and gave the mare another pat before walking back towards the fence. "So, there are a few fences I've been meaning to repair. So I'm going to work on those first before the cows decide to push them down.

Skylar wasn't far behind him. She kept pace and smiled to herself. "Alright. That sounds good to me. I know all about fence trouble. Your cows hard on fences at all?

"They use them as scratching posts and push them out of the ground." He said, pointing to a section of the fence that was leaning outwards.

"Ah, yeah, that's pretty normal. If you wrap some chicken wire around the base of a tree though, they should leave your fences alone a little better." She eyed the fallen fence thoughtfully, and then nodded. "Should be fixable though. Got your posts nearby?"

There was an indignant whinny from the barn, and Skylar stilled. "And that would be Mel. Will you be alright if I let her out? She won't bother anything while she stretches her legs."

"Go ahead, I'm going to bring the posts over." He said walking towards a small shed, he opened it and counted out six fence posts and grabbed a hammer, he carried them out to the fence and dropped them.

While he went and got the fence posts, Skylar headed into the barn. She eased the door open, and let the mare loose from her stall. She didn’t bother with a bridal or halter, knowing it would only get caught on something no doubt, and stooped to collect her saddlebags.

She padded out of the barn with them, Mel hot on her heels, and went to put them by the house. Settling them on his porch, Skylar took a moment to dig through one of the bags. She procured the family picture she always carried, and kept it in hand as she straightened.

Mel shoved her nose against her butt, until Skylar turned around and ruffled her ears. “Go on, now. Go stretch your legs.”

The mare trotted off, glanced back, and gave a playful buck before darting off into the wilds.

Skylar shook her head in amusement, and then headed over to Hamish. “I do believe I promised to show you what my Dad looked like.” She hummed as she approached. Offering out the picture, she gave him a warm smile.

The photo featured five skeletons, and a hulking beast of a creature. Skylar was obvious, the tallest skeleton out of the five visible. She was sixteen at the time- and had two toddlers on her hips, and another over her shoulders with a handhold on her horns. Two of the three toddlers had horns, and each had different colors to their eyes. Blue, green, and orange, respectively. The hulking beast lingering behind them was, ironically, identifiable as a bull type Monster, with massive curling horns that looped up out of the shot. He towered over Skylar, all brown fur and massive height- and had a much smaller lady holding his hand and smiling sweetly to the camera. The little skeleton couldn’t have been more than 5’5, compared to her husband who towered a little under three feet taller.

“That’s my Mom, Vera, and my Dad, Terence. Those are my little brothers- Thomas, Gregory, and Adam. Adam’s the youngest- and the biggest of my brothers. Thomas is actually shorter than me. He takes after Mom.”

Hamish took the photo and let out a breathy laugh. "Holy shit, your dad is huge!" He said. He glanced over her brothers and then handed back the photo.

She tucked it into her pocket and laughed with him. “And that would explain the horns, the height, and why I only got a split skull from lockin’ horns with the bull. My Mom’s a pretty normal sized lady. Dad? Dad was a giant. Big sweet beastie he was, though. Always careful with us. He cried when the boys were born, and loved ‘m until the day he died.”

At any rate, she turned her attention to the fence and leaned down to start removing the old posts. “Alright, we’ll get this up, and keep your cows from runnin’ amok.” She hummed softly. “So, do you have troubles with wild dogs and the like coming after your herd?”

"I've had a few dogs wondering into the property, my dogs usually start going nuts if any, so we run out and scare them off." He snorted, tugging a post out of the ground. "I feel tough doing it, but I probably look like a crazy person running out in the middle of the night yelling and screaming naked."

She snorted a laugh, and hauled a broken fence up and out. She turned to toss it well out of the way. "I would pay good money to see that. My brothers have stolen each other's clothes before while we're out on the range, and I have seen a lot of angrily shouting men run naked through the grass before." Skylar laughs softly. "Haha, we don't have much issue with them where I am. At least not with our herd, thanks to Dutch. That's the bull, by the way. They do however tend to go after us if we're out and about past dusk. Mel doesn't mind dogs, but she's a mustang. She can smell the difference in domesticated and wild. She's bailed me out of situations before where I've gotten cornered." She quirks a faint smile, and works at another post. "Wild dogs, coyotes, she's stomped a lot of things. I don't hobble her at night for a good reason. She's got the protectiveness of a stallion without the bad attitude."

The white mare was visible off in the distance, running and bucking like a yearling, not like she was fourteen years old. It wasn't often she got to run free like that, and she always made a fool of herself when she did.

Hamish grunted hauling the last post out and tossing it. "She's a beautiful horse." He said picking up a new post and holding it up.

"Yes she is. She knows it too. Charlie us a good looking gelding too. He'd have made nice colts." She chuckled. Skylar eased over and took hold of the mallet he had for pounding the posts into the ground. Hefting it up and bracing it on her shoulder, she gave him an easy grin. "You hold the post steady and I'll swing?”

Hamish nodded and help the pole steady. "Go ahead." He grinned.

She waited until he gave the go-ahead before lining the mallet up. She took a moment, cocking her arms back, before letting it fly. The mallet struck with practiced precision in one strike, then two, and finally three as the post sank in.

Without a bra on, Skylar no doubt gave Hamish a show. Did she mind? Not at all. "I think that's deep enough. Looks about level with the other ones from what I can see."

Hamish swallowed then looked down at the post. "Uh...it looks good."

She smiles at him and goes to snag the next post. She handed over the mallet once she returned with the post in hand. Skylar eased it into the next spot and secured it firmly with a hand. "Good. I'll hold this one- we can alternate who pounds the post in." She crouched down, steadied both herself and the post, and then gave him a chipper look.

Hamish held the hammer, then brought it down hard on the post, knocking it in with a few good hits.

Once the post was pounded in, she released it, gave it a wiggle, and then held out her hand for the hammer as she straightened upright once more. “Nice! Good form too.” She’d enjoyed the way his muscles had flexed- and a light flush highlighted her freckles. God, Skylar loved a good hard workin’ man. Mmm. “My turn.”

Hamish picked up the next post and held it in place for Skylar to hammer in.

Skylar did as needed, and traded back and forth with him until the posts were up, before getting the fence itself back up and into place. Once it was up and stable, she gave it a pleased bump with her hip and then nodded, adjusting her hat on her skull. “Looks like it’s good to go.” She hummed. “Was this the only downed spot?” Any other spots would be a bit of a jaunt to tote posts- but Skylar wasn’t above heckling Mel into toting things if she needed it. The mare usually liked to be included.

"That was the only spot that was in serious need of fixing, any other spot is still good, might just need a little extra hammer to stabilize em." He said, picking up the hammer.

She nods, hooks her thumbs into her pockets, and gives him a cheery look. “We best go check then, yeah? If we can stabilize them now, then you shouldn’t have to repair them until much later.”

Hamish smiled and nodded curling his arm around her waist and walking with her to the spots on the fence that were weaker than other. "Watching you hammer those fences in, is real hot. I ain't never seen a girl strong as you."

Skylar leans into him as they walk, settling neatly into his side as his arm curls around her waist. She smiles shyly, and peeks up at him. “Not a lot of us are.” She hums. “Gotta say, you’re the first man to say that to me though. It’s kinda nice- if it wasn’t the work makin’ ‘m run, it was my strength.” One couldn’t be an effective rancher without being able to do the work. Her mother was better on a horse than she was at the ranching aspect of it- but there was only so much muscle a tiny skeleton could physically build, however. She tangles her fingers affectionately in his belt loop, and keeps an eye open for any weaknesses in the fence line. “You weren’t too bad lookin’ with the hammer yourself. I love myself a hard workin’ man though.”

Hamish grinned. "You gotta work hard when you're doing everything yourself." He said, leaning to kiss the side of her head. The cows in the paddock mooed at them from the other side of the fence.

“That you do,” She chuckled, a pleased sound leaving her at the kiss. They fit together quite well, she mused to herself. Walking along with him, to Skylar it felt more like it was a routine that they had been doing for years, not something that they were doing for the first time ever. “Been doin’ this on my own since I was sixteen. Builds a lot of muscle over the years- keepin’ cattle and breakin’ horses isn’t easy work. We wouldn’t get by on city-slicker muscles, that’s for sure.”

The cattle got a playful moo in response, after which Skylar flushed, chuckled and looked over them. Speaking of cattle… She had a herd of them to drive to town once she got back to her ranch. It was long in the coming, though- eight days ride there, and longer back going at the cattle’s pace. She glanced up to Hamish. “After I help your cow with her twins,” she hums, “I’ve got to get back to my ranch. Got a load of cattle to herd and round up for selling, and I might be gone a while, but… Would it be okay if I visited again after?”

Hamish frowned. "Guess I forgot you would have to go at some point." He said and sighed. He pushed a small smile. "I'd love if you came back… I… I want you to come back." He stopped and turned towards Skylar, dropping the hammer so he could cup her face and press a kiss against her mouth.

Skylar met his kiss with tender care, lips working softly against his own. Her eye lights were warm, her hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders. “I’ll definitely be coming back, I promise.” She leaned back to peer up at him, and then leaned up to nuzzle her nose against his. Her fingers slid up, and she coaxed the corner of his mouth into a bigger smile. “No need for frownin’ on me, sugar. I’ll be comin’ back for sure. Gonna miss your sweet little blush every day that I’m gone, too.”

Hamish held Skylar tightly as he smiled wider when she tried to make him smile. He rested his head against hers and sighed. "When you come back...I want you to stay with me." He said, holding her face gently.

Skylar peered up at him quietly and quirked a soft grin. She stroked her thumb gently from the corner of his mouth up to his cheekbone, rubbing over it with soft affection. “Okay.” She says simply smiling at him warmly. “Might have to make trips though- If I’m gonna stay, I’ll need things, and I can only get so much on Mel before she gets pissy. As nice as your mom’s clothes are, properly fitting clothes are a bit more comfortable.”

She scuffles her boots lightly against the dirt, and then kisses him firmly. “If I’m gonna stay, I’ve got a chunk of the herd that’s mine- will you be alright with me bringin’ them here? I can’t ask my brothers to look after them for me all the time.”

"I've got a truck, I can drive you to pick up your stuff and then we can herd your cattle back here together." He suggested, running his hands down to rest on her hips.

That makes her smile, and she laughs softly. Skylar loops her arms around his neck, stroking her fingers up along his skull at the edge of his hat. “I’d like that.” She smiles. “I don’t drive- me and roads don’t usually agree. No problem bein’ passenger. It’s… golly, a twenty-hour drive, I think? About a ten-day drive for the cattle. You sure you won’t mind? I can have one of my brothers stay here to keep an eye on things for you.”

It wouldn’t do to leave his ranch unattended for too many days, after all. At least when she and the boys were gone, her mother was back home to tend to the animals in their stead.

Hamish nodded. "It sounds good to me." He said. He pressed a kiss against her forehead between her horns. "Enough of a break, back to work cowgirl." He said, patting her hips gently.

She laughed softly, face flushing at the kiss, and gave him a cheeky look. “I don’t think I’m the one who started that break, cowboy~” She teased. Still, she looped her arm through his, and resumed their walk along the fence. “So far your fence looks good.” Which meant he’d been keeping up on it- which was also good.

Hamish nodded. "It was really that one point which was bad. You wanna help me check the garden?" He said, pointing with his hammer to a vegetable garden. "I think a lot of that stuff can be picked, then I wanna put some more of the cow shit on there to help the rest of it grow and give it a good water."

Skylar nods, and directs them towards the garden. “Sounds good. Least if we’re puttin’ the shit on the soil, it’s not like the dairies that put the shit in the giant sprinklers. I’ve heard it makes the corn they grow legitimately taste like shit.” She shakes her head with amusement, and glances over his garden. “Heh. Nice lookin’ garden, by the way. Greg is not to touch that any time he visits, by the way. When he touches plants, they die.” She says with semi-seriousness.

Hamish laughed and squatted down in front of the garden. Looking through the plants, he began picking tomatoes checking, over each plant. If any looked like they had bugs in them he threw them out into the paddock, knowing the cows or a bird would come along and eat it.

Skylar mimicked him, not bothering to squat, however. She settled on her knees, and shuffled along efficiently, humming to herself. Good fruits and vegetables were collected into the bottom of her shirt, since it was larger on her, and bad fruits were chucked out to the cattle, or to Mel if the mare was running by. “You ever had roasted pumpkin?” She asks curiously.

"I think I tried once, but I ended up giving up and making soup." He said with an amused smile. He filled his shirt with vegetables and fruits.

“I’ll have to make it for you sometime then.” She chuckled. “If done right, it comes out just amazing. It’s one of my favorite fall foods, actually.” His garden was fairly loaded, but there was still a lot more that yet needed to grow. She hummed softly, and stood once she had loaded her shirt. It was a precarious thing to balance it and try not to let the fruits and vegetables fall out. “So, how do you prefer to store your extra veggies?” She hadn’t seen a canning station in his house- and canning stations usually took space. At least, the one that her family had did. Skylar braced her arms lightly, waited for him to fill his shirt. They wouldn’t need to make a second trip today- perhaps tomorrow. There were things not quite ripe- soon, but not quite.

[cepmurphy]

Lizard Country

The sun was going down and the laelaps – not that you called them that on this expedition, here they were “dryptosaurs” – were roaring in the distance, so it was time to get Professor Hatcher out of the saloon before he got eaten.

Matthew Edginton had been a pale, neatly moustached man two months back but Wyoming was leaving its marks. It was an Edginton with mud caked to his thighs who rode out behind the guide Broken Horns, four bullets between them and eyes alert for threat. The farther they got from camp, the drier it got and the ferns disappeared and the grass turned from green to sickly yellow to the full jaundice. A bit farther east, past the town of St George, it would be outright desert and a whole mess of impatient people waiting to move out west, once it was safe enough.

At the very edge, a lone male hadrosaur – adolescent, bruised; the loser of some mating ritual or herd conflict, but no less magnificent for that – was grazing. It bellowed as the horses passed, hit the ground with its tail, in the naïve belief it was chasing them further away. Edginton’s soul ached for it.

You know what’s farther east for you? It’s death. God or man, it’s coming for you.

Death was in town too. “Welcome to St George”, with dinosaur skulls nailed to it. Edginton and his friends had once found that quaint – Marsh, when he’d been there, had spat and thundered and almost got them shot – but now he curled a lip at it. (Marsh had been right but don’t tell him that.) Broken Horns showed no sign of caring either way, but that’s what he always looked like. It used to be Edginton thought injuns were just all like that, too different to not be inscrutable, but as the good people of St George scowled as he passed (‘least nobody was spitting this time), he knew Broken Horns just didn’t want the attention.

Marsh could thunder because he had money. Horns and him had butt all.

Due to Marsh, most of the time.

It was two minutes cantering to the saloon, and out came John Bell Hatcher, top Yale man and worldly, walking backwards with a pistol in front of him.

“Winnings, Mr Hatcher?”

“Two hundred,” he said, not looking away from the door even as he saddled up onto his own waiting horse. “I’d advise going to Argonaut to gamble for the next few days. Some people are sore losers.”

Argonaut was two hours further away and Edginton scowled because damn it, at the ‘frequency’ Marsh paid them, they’d have to ride it to eat and send telegrams. Marsh had the money to buy magazines and slander his enemies, he had the money to pay for fancy pictures of his expedition, and he had the money to send telegrams demanding ��more,” but somehow it never trickled down to his team.

On the way out of St George, Hatcher swore: the hadrosaur was dead, shot through its head and the crest sliced off. Crests were an aphrodisiac for morons. And that was all anyone had stripped off the body. The waste made Edginton sick, even if he didn’t yell it.

The exterminators were back.

And likely sheltering in St George, intentionally making sure they took out a dinosaur that the scientists would see.

 Most people thought dinosaurs should be dead.  

There were a lot of reasons. Some even had a bit of legitimacy – they could menace smaller towns – but most boiled down to dollars. Dinosaurs stopped cattle grazing or mining. Dinosaurs stopped towns spreading. Dinosaurs stopped the manifest destiny of America.

Their habitat – the inland sea of Wyoming and its wetlands – was drying up and dying out, taking them with it. That meant God was hired for the argument. “See, the Lord is removing them now we’re here!” Killing a dinosaur sped things along.

Science said the dinosaurs had once lived all over the Earth. Mantell and Owen had even worked out that the big lizards of England, the squat iguanodon and wolf-faced megalosaurus, were the distant ancestors of dinosaurs. They now only lived in a few zoos like Crystal Palace or as the heraldic animals on the royal crest. America would soon follow.

That’s why Othniel Charles Marsh had whipped and cajoled and bribed Yale into this expedition, even putting his money up: the dinosaurs could die out in a generation and needed to be catalogued now, fast, before that happened. “The great scientific adventure of our time,” he’d said in a great meeting where Edginton, frustrated with book work, had decided he had to go out west.

The other reason Marsh did this was because his great rival Edward Cope was overseeing the United States Geological Survey and they were studying dinosaurs on the way. And Marsh was going to ‘win’.

In a few months, the Yale team had seen how the triceratops fought for mates and how their mates raised the young on the move, constantly searching for food and feuding for it. They’d heard how the hadrosaurs could sing and realised each herd had its own subtly different call, and on some days a concert would spread across the whole wetland. As great risk, they’d learned the gorgosaur existed at all and was a vicious rival with the laelaps (and how, in direct combat, the laelaps won).

They’d lost three men in the process, and come close to running out of food when they ran out of wages, and their native guides walked out once before until Mr Hatcher won a really big game.

All of the hardship was a price Edginton was glad to pay – not that he didn’t wish Marsh would pay – for the chance to watch those herds and hear those songs and gape at the battles.

   The camp was a fungal growth of army surplus tents, wagons, and skittish horses, where the campfires were in a circle around them to deter theropods. Gould and Barnes, who between them had enough hair for two normal people, were on night watch with half-empty shotguns. The beer was running low too, mainly thanks to Gould and Barnes (which is why they were on night watch).

Inside the circle was the usual bitching about pay and gushing about the work despite that. Earlier, Edginton had seen a young triceratops run right up to him and its mother come thundering after, coming within inches so she could nudge the infant away from him. Two inches between life and death. And even that story got trumped when Judas – actually Albert Allanson, but his father and grandfather had been Harvard heathens – said he’d seen something new.

Ruth Herts had seen it too. She was there for that, a high-society artist that Marsh had paid to document his expedition – she always got paid – and the only such artist to dare go out and do it. The lone woman, Ruth got her own tent because it was unseemly otherwise. When she wasn’t in earshot they all talked about how they’d like to get unseemly with her and Edginton joined in like he cared.

What he cared about was what she’d drawn: something lithe, hunched like it was about to pounce, feathered. (Feathered?)

And after that quick slash of a sketch, Ruth showed a more thorough sketch of what had once been a hadrosaur. This corpse had definitely been stripped for meat.

“I’m thinking of calling it dromaeosaur,” said Judas, meaning ‘running lizard’, “because those bastards fairly sprinted when we saw them.”

“From what they did to the hadrosaur, I’m quite glad they sprinted,” said Ruth, in the bright sunny tones of someone who wasn’t bright and sunny but had to fake it. Only Edginton noticed that, far as he knew. “I don’t think this painting will be good for polite society.”

Someone was going to crack a joke about why didn’t she paint anything girly, and Edginton jumped in first to keep it on dinosaurs: “If they sprinted, they must know what a human is, surely? Dinosaurs only seem to care if they’re familiar with guns.”

“Exterminators,” Barnes muttered darkly. “Wiping them out before we’ve even found it.”

“Nothing to be done about it,” said Hatcher, ending the conversation. “We’ll just have to beat them to the punch.”

It would be a truly stupid thing to go out at night to see what you could see and Edginton hadn’t even been drinking. Hatcher had made it clear how stupid it was, many a time. Even Marsh wouldn’t tell you to do it. And normally Edginton was level-headed. But the skulls and dirty looks in town, and the dead hadrosaur, and Hatcher’s damned acceptance – and Hatcher, he knew, must be burning too so how did he hide it? All that churned up inside him at once, making a fury better than drink.

Matthew Edginton was gonna go out and see something new before some bastard shot it.

   It wasn’t hard to sneak past the guards, not when Gould and Barnes were having a quiet debate on laelaps behaviour. It was harder to sneak past Broken Horns, who got up to go with him – “I am being paid,” was all he said. His tone and face could not quite hide that he knew, and knew that Edginton knew, that any dead Yale men on his watch meant he wasn’t gonna get paid. Edginton felt guilt that he was forcing a man along with his folly, but not enough to stop.

He tried to justify himself by describing Judas’ new find and was startled when Broken Horns swore in his native tongue. “Terror claws,” he said. “If we see them, you shoot on sight.”

“You know about them?”

“They’ve been seen, sometimes. They kill men.”

Edginton was rational enough to know that should scare him back to the camp but still drunk enough on fury to keep going.

At night you could see little and nothing you could see looked the same. The half-moon barely picked out the grass and the remaining trees, and a slumbering ankylosaur would loom out of the blackness like it had divinely planted. The roaring of predators ripped through the silence, and where could they be coming from? If there was a dromaeosaur and it was as bad as the guide said, would you ever have time to see it?

But Edginton went anyway. Somewhere in the dark was a new discovery, a new behaviour, a new anything related to these magnificent, doomed creatures.

The way the others talked about Miss Herts, that was how he felt. It burned. He had to consume it.

He was so wrapped up in this that he did, in fact, crash into an ankylosaur.

It was like being punched by a mountain. Edginton thought he could hear Broken Horns laugh (he briefly felt rage that the man would mock his bosses and then shame for thinking like a boss) but the beast barely snored. To this great, hulking mass of stone armour and leather hide, he was as nothing. These dinosaurs looked and acted like they’d been here since the second day of Genesis.

You could almost forget that he’d seen one shot dead in his first week, a look of angered surprise on its face and its legs shredded. Such a being should not die like that. It was against God.

That’s when someone fired a shot.

The ankylosaur noticed that.

Edginton dived on his back just before the beast reared out of its sleep, the great hammer on its tail coming around like judgement. It hissed – you’d expect a roar but you got a dull hiss – and slammed its tail on the ground, and when a second shot hit its armour, it charged in the general direction, too stupid to know this made it a better target.

Logically, Edginton should have run back to camp. The exterminators may not have noticed him, or maybe they’d hoped he’d be ‘accidentally’ killed, but neither option meant challenging them. His brain knew that but his blood didn’t, and he was running past the ankylosaur, off to wherever the damnable shot came from, swearing blood.

His revolver roared. His brain told him he should have waited for a clear shot. His brain also told him the ankylosaur was turning back towards him, mistaking that noise for its attacker.

Edginton threw himself through the bushes and then, on instinct, back the way he came. The ankylosaur was coming through as he was coming back, chasing phantoms. It would keep going until it assumed it had scared its foe off. So there his trip was justified: he’d got closer than anyone else and he’d saved it from bastards. It made the blood sing.

Up until Edginton found himself staring down a rifle barrel.

   “Y’all got no business being here.”

“I’m a scientist.”

“You’re an ass and a fool and a busybody. All y’are.”

The talker with the gun – there were two other guns in the darkness, silent, with vestigial men – sounded like a tired father reprimanding a toddler. His words stank of a man who was trying to sound more ‘frontier’ than he was. In the dark, all that could be seen was a beard.

“All we want is to go west and succeed, like is our right as Americans and men, what God has charged us to do. We just want what’s ours. These big lizards matter more than us? We had ta kill men to get this far and lizards matter?”

Broken Horns laughed. The exterminators had dragged him to Edginton at a gunpoint and the guide had looked, for the first time Edginton had seen, disgusted. He still looked disgusted.

“You never thought we were men.”

The rifle roared, petty and violent, and Broken Horns’ left foot ceased to be.

“You will treat us with respect!” said the beard, yelling to be heard over the screaming, forgetting his fake accent.  “Nobody has to die if you just leave! But you need to watch and listen!”

That was as trustworthy as Barnum in a poker game and Edginton knew it. Certainly, Broken Horns was likely to bleed out and the exterminators wouldn’t give a damn.

“I need to stop the bleeding—“

“He needed to learn!” As Broken Horns got control over his screaming, the lead killer lowered his voice, but he’d already said it all quite loudly. “Now you shut up and you’re going to watch us work and y’all are gonna tell the others to go away.”

“Professor Marsh won’t let us go,” said Edginton. “And if we just walked he’d only sucker someone else to replace us. Once all the dinosaurs are gone, he’ll send us to collect the bones. That’s what the Devil charged him to do.” And me, he thought but dared not say.

That shut the killer up. The other two guns and their men looked at each other. A blind man could see that they’d expected the soft brains of Yale to whimper and run in the face of threats from real men, and now that wasn’t happening they didn’t know what to do. Soon they’d resort to violence but Edginton found it hard to get excited, now he had their number (and now he was certain it’d be violence, he found he was no longer as scared of it).

“Broken Horns is going to die if you don’t let me stop the bleeding. Right now that’s all I want to do.”

He was calm, rock solid. There was even a slim chance the exterminators would give up in the face of confidence and if not, at least he’d die like he lived.

Then he saw a ghost appear behind the exterminators.

An eye caught the moonlight and shone hellish green.

He recognised the creature’s gait from the sketch.

Now he looked scared, and the exterminators relaxed because, of course, they thought he was scared of them. So now there was no chance. When the beard turned round, making some speech in which he clearly felt secure enough to turn his back, the dromaeosaur had slipped away. When he turned back, still in the throes of some cutting speech Edginton didn't give a piss about, the dromaeosaur slid back.

Another joined it.

Broken Horns began to mutter something in his language. He saw them too.

“When y’all see us kill your precious lizards, you’ll say: hey, you were right, they’re just lizards,” said the beard, ignorant of a second shape behind him. “What will you say?”

“Broken Horns, we may have to run, will you be able to—“

“The hell do you think you’re talking about—“

“—lean on me if we’re going to—“

“You arrogant bastard, do you really think we’ll—“

Broken Horns said: “Three, now.” The sign-song voice of fear.

The third dromaeosaur kicked the furthest man in a delicate sweep, and the man fell to the ground screaming. When the others turned, the second beast was already leaping and the second gunman fired wild before falling hard. The first was running right for the beard.

Give him his due, he recovered fast and swung his rifle butt-first at the dinosaur’s incoming head. With a dull thwack, it fell to the ground. His gun was back around and he was aiming for a headshot.

Edginton slammed into him from the side, or tried to but he never weighed that much. It was enough to jostle the beard and cause him to drop the gun. That was enough for the dromaeosaur to get back up on its feet, shaking its head, focusing eyes on the humans.

Behind it, flesh ripped and men stopped screaming.

“I can’t get my gun,” said the beard. “Please, get my gun. You can’t let it. My name is Sam, you can’t let it, you can’t—“

The dromaeosaur fell into Sam and his guts hit the ground before he did.

Edginton watched it all dispassionately, or so he wanted to think. The killings took ten seconds, average, but he was pretty sure the lead terror claw had started eating Sam before he was dead. After that, another twenty seconds.

I said I wanted to see, he thought giddily.

Broken Horns could hobble and Edginton’s ripped shirt served as an impromptu bandage, and the two shuffled as fast as they could before the predators thought of killing them too. Neither talked nor breathed too loudly.

   The camp exploded once they came back and it didn’t help when Broken Horns said “revenge” had happened. Hatcher was first to Edginton, eyes wild, demanding the story out of him. Ruth was the second, pencil out, and as Edginton talked he was dimly aware that the artist was drafting everything he said about the dromaeosaurs, three little slashes of granite stalking around a figure and one leaping, the monstrous claws on its toes raised.

He hadn’t even realised he’d seen that until he saw her drawing.

Hatcher heard it all and never broke eye contact.

All Hatcher said at the end was: “They got what was coming.”

He didn’t even ask if Edginton wanted to stay on with the expedition. That surprised Edginton because he was sure people would assume he was too rattled to go on, but Hatcher got it.

See something new before some bastard shot it. He’d done it.

Who wouldn’t want to see more?

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: The Club

---

"Okay, okay, order guys," The calm, but perky, voice called out over the muffled din of so many voices bouncing off one another and talking over each other as if carried on an unrelenting river down the rapids. The blonde, shorter than most assembled around the large circular table but older or at the least wiser-seeming, stood from her seat as if to call order to them all. "Hey, thanks if we can settle down and get on with our purpose of being here… I'm sure we've all got things we'd much rather be doing-"

"My husband, for me," The willowy, inhumanly perfect looking brunette sassed out, one brow raised over her bright yellow eyes. "I don't know if you ladies get the same enjoyment, but I would quite like to get back home."

"Oh lah-dee-dah," The youngest blonde around the table snapped out, crystal blue eyes surrounded by dark circles snapped as she glared across at the other woman. "Just cause your world means a husband and no end-of-the-world apocalypses like some of us-"

"Sweetheart, please, no one's going to your world isn't bad if it's really like that." The blonde sitting next to Julie Grigio sighed softly, her fae-like features in her puckish lips shining through as she smiled gently at the younger girl. Her tooth-gaped smile hiding the exasperation at being surrounded by so many unable to keep their internal-voices as quiet as they were on the outside. Sookie Stackhouse placed a gentle hand on the girl next to her's hand before flinching back feeling the gap where a finger should have been. "Oh!"

"Yeah, fucking oh." Julie mocked, teeth gritted and an angry snarl to her lips as she jerked her hand back and slumped into her chair, the flash of anger dying out as quickly as it came to the depressive thoughts she really did have the worst life. "Let's just… get on with the point of this."

"Yes, exactly!" The first blonde spoke up again, clapping her hands together. Buffy Summers wasn't one to let the mood drop for long if she could help it. And being the eldest, she figured that keeping things on track was likely her task. "We're here cause, um-" She trailed off at that point, the actual purpose of this round table foggy for her.

It was the same for all those gathered there. They'd all been in their respective worlds one moment, and then things got cloudy and they were suddenly at this table. Some of them could recognise others - the various works that others came from familiar and fictional in their realities - while others had complete confusion.

Sookie Stackhouse had been cooking breakfast for her husband and children in her Grandma's house - calling out to her husband to fix the dang chicken coop - when she felt the fuzzy feeling she used to only get when moving to the fairy realm.

Bela Swann-Cullen had been about to go visit her friend Jacob, running through the woods without a care in the world as Edward took their daughter to see her dad, and then she took another powerful step and found herself seated at the table.

Buffy Summers was, of course, far too familiar with the effect of magic. She'd taken it in stride opening one door and finding herself at a strange table with an array of strange women.

Beside her was a dark haired, mousy looking lady who looked well loved and well and truly confused as she looked about at them all - eyes wide and frightened as she jerked her hands about to sign something. Not that anyone really had noticed her yet.

The youngest one was Julie Grigio, sat between Sookie and the dark-haired mute, and the extremely volatile emotions and reactions thus far were half out of annoyance at all the upbeat personalities and half out of fear of being in an unknown room she didn't know how to escape from. R had just said he'd finished making their breakfast and had been calling her down to get started on another hard day of travelling to reach out to those people that were not too far gone when she'd left the bedroom and found herself here.

Another dark haired girl at the table, sat beside her fellow vampire, was Elena Gilbert. Crazy had been her life for years, so she was taking the whole situation in stride and focused more upon the other vampire beside her who seemed less prepared for the unexpected than she was.

"Because - we're here as a joke," the lone blonde yet to speak said, her worn cowboy boots kicked up on the table at odds with the buttercup yellow sundress she wore but in keeping with the equally worn denim jacket she had on over the top. Jo Harvelle rolled her eyes as she looked around the assembled table with a sigh. "Y'all really haven't been made aware of your relevancy to that other world have you?"

"Huh?" Elena asked, tilting her head. "What other-"

"Oh god, this isn't one of those crossovers is it?" Buffy cut over the vampiric girl with a groan, slumping back down into her seat and rubbing at her temples. "Okay, if that's the case, we better work out what our crossover is for and complete the task so we can all get on home before this turns into a-" She shuddered, "- musical."

"Hey, I liked the musical episode," Bela chimed in, recognising the 90's heroine from her own world.

"Me too," Elena added with a smile, before exchanging a grin with the vampire beside her. "Bela, right?"

"Yeah, and you're...Elena?"

"Yup!"

"Okay cool, we at least recognise each other and Buffy over there."

"I recognise her too," Sookie chimed in, followed quickly by Julie nodding her head and pointing at the Slayer.

"Me too."

"Okay, what, am I famous in all your world's for something?" Buffy frowned, sitting up a little straighter and looking about the table at the nods from all but the silent, dark-haired woman. "Who are you?"

The mute paused for a second, doe-eyed and obviously frightened for a moment before she started signing away. The communal looks of confusion started until Sookie chimed up, "Oh! Her name is… Eliza? And she's from… Baltimore? In 1962?!"

"Yippee, time travel," Elena said, rolling her eyes to herself before starting at the confused looks she was getting. "Sorry. Dopplegangers and a lot of confusing time stuff."

"I had the same with the fairy realm so that's understandable," Sookie replied sympathetically, before going back to translating Eliza's thoughts and signing through that for them all. "She does not recognise any of us, and just… wants to go back to the water?"

There was a pause before the blonde hunter leaped to her feet, clapping her hands. "Oh fuckin' hell! It's the amphibian-girl!"

"What?"

"Who?"

"Do you recognise her?"

Jo clapped her hands again before looking around the table for a moment and then letting out a loud laugh. "Oh my fuckin' God - it's the monster fuckin' club!"

There was another, longer and clearly more drawn out pause of silence, before the rest clamoured all at once to question what on earth she was on about.

"No, no, I know what this is. This is totally Monster Fucking Club," Jo said with a definitive nod before pointing a hand straight across the table at Buffy. "I'm pretty sure I know how everyone here is, and I can prove that's what this is about. You're Buffy Summers-"

"Yes…?"

"And you've fucked at least two vampires, and definitely loved two of them, let alone any other non-humans - I'm sorry, it got so convoluted after Angel left for his own show."

Buffy turned bright red as she faced down the words before blinking in surprise at the other blonde's claim. "Umm…"

"That's true-"

"Yeah. You totally did."

"I mean it is definitely fair."

All three of the other vampire-partnered women spoke up, nodding their heads supportively before blinking in surprise at one another.

"Ah yes, I'm guessin' only the Southern Belle doesn't recognise you other two, hmm?" Jo chimed in as the two brunette vampires and the blonde half-fae looked curiously at one another. "So the pale one with the yellow eyes is Bela Swann, though given you've got the whole...unearthly glow going on I'm guessin' you're married?"

"Yes," Bela replied nodding. "And yes, I confirm that I do indeed sleep with my vampire husband."

"I'm Elena Gilbert," the other dark haired vampire said, smiling gently around the table but only unable to meet the eye of the very sour blonde across from her. Elena shrugged a shoulder. "I've...also slept with a few vampires."

"I've only one-" Bela cut in, frowning. "So your theory of it being-"

"Bela, it doesn't matter the numbers. You fuck someone inhuman - you're a monster-fucker." Jo shook her head towards the younger woman's attempt to exclude herself from the group before turning to look at the other blonde closest to her age. "Sookie Stackhouse - half-fairy, vampire-magnet and lover, right?"

"I mean, I prefer the idea of bein' seen as an empath instead of fae-"

"Fair. Fairies are bitches."

"Hey!"

There was a momentary squabble before Buffy banged her hand on the table shutting up her fellow blondes, eyes fixed on the one that had been holding court for a few moments there. "Alright then, you've been able to say a few of us - but what did you mean by amphibian-girl about Eliza here? And who are you and our other friend-"

"My name is Julie," the youngest blonde growled out, glaring towards the other women as she crossed her arms.

"Yes, what about Julie and yourself?"

"Okay, okay, first things first," Jo said with a sigh, holding up a hand with one finger up, "Eliza over there is in love with an amphibious man kinda like the creature from the Black Lagoon...except that he fucks. And well, I suspect, aye Lizzie?" She waggled an eyebrow looking over at the dark haired woman with a smirk.

Eliza blushed deeply for a moment, her hands flapping about as if trying to decide what to say before holding her hands tightly in her lap and nodding her head rapidly.

Jo smirked, giving a supportive nod, before holding up another finger. "Secondly, I'm Jo Harvelle. Hunter extraordinaire and I'm definitely a member of this club given. And thirdly-"

"How are you a member though?" Bela chimed in, eyes sharply focused on her as Jo glanced back across. "So far you've said vampires for all of use except for Eliza. So...you sleep with vampires too?"

"Fuckin' god no, ugh!" Jo shook her head with a disgusted look before shrugging her shoulder. "My darlin' hunny is a shadow monster. Kinda like a vampire but energy and no blood, and also fuckin' sexier than bein' a fang-banger."

"Hey!" Sookie scowled, arms crossed under her white Merlotte's shirt she was wearing having been meaning to go straight to work after feeding her family. "That's a filthy name to be callin' us-"

"Oh is that mean in your world?" Elena asked, head tilted curiously until Sookie nodded back at her.

"Anyways," Jo said, rolling her eyes and pointing at herself with her two fingers. "Point is, certified monster fucker here too. And then," she holds up a third finger before pointing her hand towards the remaining blonde. "She's Julie Grigio, right?"

"Yeah…" Julie grumbled the word out, looking warily at the other before noticing the amount of scars littering the older blonde's body how none of the other women had that pointed her out for a kindred spirit. "So? You gonna share my backstory now, huh?"

"Well, if you're not." Jo shrugged before sighing gently noticing the missing finger. "She's from an apocalyptic zombie-infested world. Her lover is a sentient zombie who's definitely working towards saving the world, or may have by now."

"Thanks-"

"You two are so cute and deserve better than that."

"Yeah, well, we don't all get to live happy lives with husbands and happiness and whatever else where bad things don't happen."

“True, but myself and Buffy over there have had our fair share of Shit Happens, so you’ve got some company here, Jules,” The hunter said with a comforting smile, ignoring the squawked objections from the two vampires and the half-fae that their worlds were equally so bad. It was fair to object, but crazed virus infected vampires that weren’t exactly dangerous any more wasn’t the same as world-wide zombie plague nor the actual biblical apocalypse like the hunter or Slayer had experienced. Let alone the potential, far less world-threatening issues the other two had experienced. “Anyways, I know you say that - but you and your super cute ex-zombie boyfriend aren’t living that bad a life now that you’re curin’ the world as it is.”

Julie had the decency to blush, even though she moved her hands both to the table and rubbed over the missing space on the one hand as message enough that her point still stood.

“Okay, well, I guess we’ve established that the connection between us all is,” Buffy quickly cut in, clapping her hands and standing up again as she looked around at the group of women. “But that doesn’t help us work out exactly what the purpose of us being together is for. What problem it is we’ve been brought to tackle.”

“Eliza was wondering if it was about humanity and.. Monsters?” Sookie chimed up after a beat of silence, eyes fixed on the dark-haired woman who was moving her hands rapidly before touching her neck. “Oh! Because so many of us are not… no longer humans? I mean, I was born what I was, and I’d always thought I was human, and- oh, same for Eliza over there.”

There was a pause as the dark-haired woman seemed to think carefully before she began miming something else, and all eyes were on her even as the blonde empath spoke for her instead. “She was never sure what was wrong with her, or if she’d always been meant to be in the water like her man is, but she never felt that humanity and being human was what her life should or would have been.” There was another pause as she gestured to the marks to the side of her neck and then around the air. “She could live outside the water, of course, but it’s a silent world up here for her.”

“I am what I am because of an ancient mystical curse or blessing, depending how you look at it.” Buffy added, shrugging a shoulder as she seemed to consider that as an option. “I mean, you could say because of my metahuman skills from being a Slayer that I may not be so considered a human any more-”

“I’m a flat out vampire now, not that I really… That is to say, I didn’t really want to be.” Elena spoke up quietly, looking at the table top rather than meeting anyone’s eye. “It was a mistake really. And especially for Damon to have been the one to sire me-”

“Ugh, why did you go for the dickhead brother? Worst. Decision. Ever.” “What the hell do you know about that, hunter-girl?” “Easy - always go for the nice one, far less dangerous a life choice.”

“Anyway,” Elena glared across at the older hunter at that point, looking up from the table and more confident as she spoke in that moment then. “If I had had the choice, I’m not sure I would have decided to become a vampire so… Does that not wanting to change from human factor in for anyone else?”

“Why would you not want to be a vampire?!” Bela’s eyes were wide and disbelieving as she looked at the girl next to her in confusion. “I mean, I had to get married to make my husband agree to turn me. And even then, he tried to talk me out of it for years. Why wouldn’t you want to have forever with your love?”

Sookie coughed softly and seemed to wipe at her eyes for a moment before speaking up softly. “Because, sometimes there are costs for being what you are that you can never make up for. I… I considered becoming a fairy-vampire with Warlow before I realised how evil and crazed he was. And then Bill was all messed up by Lilith, and Eric was dying from the virus and-” The blonde sucked in a quick, harsh series of breaths before shaking her head and the perpetually sunshine-like smile came back across her face. “Sometimes not becoming something you think you should works out. I’d have never had my loving human husband and kids if I had turned myself.”

“And I’d have died giving birth to my daughter if I hadn’t been turned,” Bela shot back, raising a brow with an arch look to her face. “We all have different experiences, you know.”

“Well, unlike the fucking rest of you-” Julie cut in with a sneer, crossing her arms under her chest as she looked around the table.”-Aint nobody want to be inhuman in my world. Though that doesn’t stop a whole damn lot of people from trying to be. The apathy for other beings is disgusting, and the treatment of not just the bonies and the fleshies, but other humans. Everything is corrupted, the world is dead and I mean the soul of the world is dead. Human or not - everything is missing that piece these days.”

There was another silence around the table at that declaration, each other woman catching one another’s eye before dropping it again at the feelings such a declaration brought up. A world, devoid of goodness that was still fighting for love, felt like such a far step away from the dramas of vampires and werewolves squabbling for land or acceptance in mainstream society.

Only Jo seemed to nod in agreement and understanding, speaking quietly, “Some of y’all ain’t seen how a real apocalypse works. The spread of pestilence and war ravaging the lands, death everywhere. Experiencing death first hand for real, the gritty horrible pain of bleedin’ out and knowin’ you aint got a damn thing to give for the world but what little you have left of yourself-” She looked straight across at the nodding younger blonde, and stared down each of the two vampires as they looked set to disagree about not having experienced a real death, before she found herself staring down the Slayer looking back at her. “I mean, I know Buffy over there has given the big sacrifices before, but even then your world wasn’t quite so...decimated as some others. Julie’s got zombies running wild, Sook had quite a 28 Days Later type situation goin’ on, and I fought one of the legit horsemen of the Apocalypse. So, it’s a bit grander than the family dramas and scheming military folks these other three had on their hands.”

“And nobody wants to be a zombie.” Julie added snappily to the end of the other’s speech, raising a brow. “Not even R wants to be one.”

“Sounds like my hunny, he wishes he could be a human too.”

Elena was the next one to speak up, her voice soft and uncertain but also clear and more like she was sharing a thought she was still formulating. “Maybe… maybe that is the point? That we’re all, um, well, what Jo called us-”

“Monster fuckers.”

“Yes, that,” Elena continued, a faint blush on her cheeks as she looked about the table. “We might all be that, but I know that, well, at least Stefan-”

“The best of your lover boys.” “Fair call, truth.” “Thanks, Bela.”

“Jo and Bela, can we let Elena finish talking for once?” Buffy cut in sharply with a reprimanding look at the two women that were sat beside one another, before looking around the rest of the table as if to confirm they all agreed to let the young vampire finish her thought process. “Okay, back to you Elena.”

“Um, thank you. But what I was saying,” Her voice got louder then and more bold, clearly not sure she would get to actually finish what she was saying without interruption if she didn’t speak up more. “-is that it seems like while we might all be monster-fuckers, none of the monsters that we love want to be one. I know Stefan regrets losing his human life, and sometimes Damon does too.”

“Edward literally tried to kill himself so I wouldn’t be tempted to become like him,” Bela added herself, looking thoughtful. “He believes he has no soul and he regrets being turned and not left to die as a human with his human mother. He regrets what I have become, given he’s such a silly religious type.”

“Bill was like that too,” Sookie spoke up next, nodding her head in agreement to Bela’s words. “He hated what he was made into, and if he could’ve been human he would be. I… I sometimes think even Eric would too,” At that she seemed to start fiddling with her wedding ring and unable to meet any watching eyes around the table. “So, so many of the vampires, and even the other half-faes I met wish we weren’t how we are - missing the humanity and the...carefree way being a human is.”

“Like I said - ain’t nobody want to be a fucking zombie.” Julie growled the words out, lifting a hand to rub at her neck with a sigh. “R has fought every piece of him to become a human again and return to the living. He’s fighting for everyone to have that back, in a way that nobody else could have if they didn’t have his conviction.”

Beside the feisty youngest blonde, Eliza bobbed her head one way then another - seemingly tossing up the idea to herself of her wondrous partner wanting to be any other way than the way he was and the way she was; but ended up shrugging a shoulder uncertainly. Perhaps he would if the idea of humanity and how humans lived could be expressed for him, but also being a river god to the humans of his past might be hard to view. But his love for her - the way she intrigued him and fascinated her as much as he did her spoke volumes as well. Maybe he would choose a human life if he’d ever had the option of one.

Buffy herself frowned for a moment before letting out a sharp, bark of a laugh. “Oh this really could be it. Cause if someone like Spike can miss the idea of humanity sometimes, it really must be true for all supernatural beings.” She let out another laugh, rubbing at her elbows for a moment. “Besides, I know Angel wishes he was-” She scowled at the communal sigh that five of the six other women gave at her mentioning the vampire-with-a-soul, eyes flashing dangerously with something she knew she’d have to always keep buried back in her world. “-so this could be it.”

“So we all sleep with monsters, and most of them wish to be human?” Bela said cautiously, looking about the table to see a group of correspondingly agreeing nods. “So...is that why we’re here? To discuss the ethicacy of it?”

"Maybe we're here to talk about how they fuck?" Julie snarked back at the suggestion, a lip curled up, before letting out a laugh as she managed to get a honking, squeak of a laugh from the mute woman beside her. "See? Eliza agrees with me."

"I mean, it'd be a fun topic!" Bela agreed with a laugh, her own mouth twisting into a pretty smile - pretty because that was the point of vampires in her world. "I know I've broken a few beds-"

"That's cute. Destroy a house." Buffy chimed in, sitting back in her own chair before turning slightly pink as all eyes focused on her. "I was just..saying."

"You're saying the Spike fucks, we know, your life is a TV show in our worlds." Elena replied, smiling sweetly at the blushing Slayer, before adding for herself. "I mean, it could be that, but given most of us are only vampires-"

"And a fairy-vampire. And a werewolf. And a shape shifter." Sookie added, before going bright red herself at the gaping looks she received from them all. "What?"

"Oh my god - Sookie is the queen of the monster-fuckers!" Julie cried out, pointing at her fellow blonde with a wicked grin. "We must be here to work out who the biggest one is - and it is totally Sookie! Unless any of you beat, what, four different monster types?"

"I'm only at two," Jo supplied, before the rest shrugged and confirmed they were all single-type girls themselves. "I guess Sookie is the biggest monster-fucker here!"

"Oh no!"

There was a shake to the room, though only one of them seemed to notice as the group began bickering back and forth as to if that was the purpose of their being gathered. Dark brown eyes darted around watching the way the edges of the room they were in, which had once been white began to tint a darker and darker color. Like the light in the room was dimming without anyone having done anything. No one else seemed to be reacting, as the women from all the various media she consumed and connected to in their passions continued to argue. Their voices were blurring together as much as the edges of the room were blurring into dark shadows, and looking about, Jo gave a laugh to herself as she finally worked out what they were there for.

“Oh, this is such a stupid dream.” She growled the words out, eyes fixated on the encroaching shadows as the rest of the women continued to talk without any input from her.

Of course it was a dream. It was her damn subconscious mind thinking on her love’s guilt and her own desires - drawing on them to form some stupid summoning of those she’s read or watched in similar yet equally doomed eventually cases. Sookie with her blurry husband that didn’t matter, Julie with her love trying so hard to better himself, Eliza with her running off to live in the monster’s world and abandoning her human life in the pattern, Bela getting the picket fence with every possible good outcome coming her Mary-Sue way, Elena who would end up in a coffin for decades for love, and of course Buffy who was never meant to live past a year defying the odds but giving up love along the way. Of course this is what her brain would come up with.

And letting out a final laugh, Jo finally closed her eyes and waited out the quiet, friendly voices of the women her mind had planted before her to turn into the vicious hisses she knew before gaining full control of herself each morning - happy to forget the sharp points of the dream to the fog of sleep and the mind-bleaching confusion of her paralysis rather than think on it much further.

---