#me when the animators randomly chose shade to be the one that was standing right next to camille before she got trap doored

[wannabemasterofwindintraining]

Don't go back n watch that episode camille n shade were totally sitting next to each other n talking no they weren't on opposite sides of the room you're imagining it guys trust me they hang out all the time guys I'M NOT CRAY CRAY BELIEVE ME

[hisakata-resutomoshibi]

Not to bother you, but I've been wondering what would happen next in that Inner Demon! Kuro au. It randomly popped into my head and now im curious lol. I'm not asking for another chapter if you dont want to write it, I just wanna know what u think would happen next! Your ideas are amazing and I love hearing from you! 🧡

Ah, you’re so sweet! Don’t take this too seriously as I haven’t planned any of it and barely edited it LOL but here you go my dear~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright, and what am I supposed to make of that?"

It was hours later, or perhaps just minutes, and Mahiru found himself staring up at the slightly damp, bug riddled ceiling of the cave. He seemed to have fallen to the ground after Kuro had released his grip; maybe he had taken too much blood? The thought froze his muscles in visceral terror and his mind in a bid to remain sane immediately rejected the idea. Either way, he did distinctly remember hearing Kuro say that he belonged to Mahiru now, or something to that effect, and really, who wanted to have a psycho like this?

"What does what means?"

 Kuro's eyes popped in to view over Mahiru's face and he flinched back, bashing his head further on the cold stone. Frowning in irritation, at the pain in his skull, the situation in general, he sighed. "What do you mean you're mine?"

 The bright red that had flooded through Kuro's irises hadn't faded, in fact it seemed to have almost solidified against the former blue, looking like a small pool of swirling metallic paint splashed across the sky. As he watched, entranced, Kuro grinned.

 "Pretty, right?" He blinked slowly, demonstratively. "The red is a nice touch, a very easy way to identify contracts."

 "Contracts?" Mahiru repeated curiously. "What- no, I mean, how did your eyes change color?"

 "This is your blood, Mahiru." Kuro said matter-of-factly. "I didn't expect it to be so beautiful, to be honest. Most blood mixes in like mud. Such a disappointing shade of brown. But this!" Kuro paused, fluttering a hand in front of his face.

"This is gorgeous. We must be compatible."

 "Compatible..." Mahiru echoed, laughing weakly. "Great."

 "You wanted to go home. I'll take you there."

 "Hold on just a second." He pushed out a hand into the scant air between them and Kuro obligingly sat back, his head cocked in innocent puzzlement. "How do you know where I live?"

 "I know everything that is YOU, now."

 "Again, what exactly does that mean?"

 Kuro smiled wickedly, leaning forward suddenly, a blur of vitality in the dank air of the cave. "Take it literally. Anything that means something to you, makes up a part of your identity, it's mine now. And in exchange-" He gestured down at himself, "you get this, anything you could possibly want."

 Startled into silence, Mahiru felt his tongue form the sardonic comment before he could think better of it. "You're quite confident." As soon as the words were out he regretted them, praying that the offense they caused wouldn't be enough to get him ripped into little pieces, but Kuro only laughed, lighter and softer than anything Mahiru had heard before.

 "Of course I'm confident. Do you still not know who I am, Mahiru?" His lips curled up mischievously and he ran a graceful, delicate finger, along Mahiru's jaw. "You're a bit thick, aren't you? Ah well, no matter! You're mine as well now, no turning back." Before Mahiru had the chance to feel offended, he continued. "I knew you were special the second I saw you."

 The conversation was running in circles and it was only a matter of time before Mahiru got motion sickness trying to follow it, so, trying to decide the simplest course of action, he chose, simply, to ignore it. Obviously Kuro was not who he had originally thought, the eyes, the horns, the preternatural speed, no, there was no way to fake that, he was something else entirely, but the question was, what? Mahiru glanced over to find Kuro staring at him raptly and he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped. "Where am I supposed to hide you?"

"Is this just something that people like you can do?" Mahiru asked flatly, staring down at the tiny kitten at his feet. It turned it's wide, luminescent eyes (red like his blood, he thought) up to him and blinked. "I don't know what that means."

 "You really are a demanding little one." Kuro muttered as he phased back into existence, occupying the space the cat had previously. "Of course not all of us can, it is something unique to I and a few others." He paused, seeming to think carefully before speaking. "Eight total."

 There are seven others that can turn into animals?"

 Kuro nodded slowly, almost regretfully. "Yes. Seven. But you don't need to worry about them."

 "I'm not particularly worried." Mahiru sighed. "More like amazed." He watched for a moment as Kuro crept around his room, so cat like in his movements Mahiru almost laughed, and began to poke at several of the books piled haphazardly on his desk. "I do have a question."

 As though he had been in anticipation, Kuro spun on his heel, books and exploration forgotten and a lopsided smile in place. "Yes?"

 "Well, er-" Mahiru hesitated, biting his lip. "Not to be offensive or anything but, you're acting very... different now."

 "Oh?"

 "Uh, yeah..."

 "How so?"

 "Well." Mahiru glanced over, quickly looking away again when he met Kuro's amused gaze. "Well, to be blunt, you're not acting like a total nut job anymore."

 "A nut job." Kuro paused, digesting the phrase for a moment. "I do not know that one either." Four rapid steps had him directly in front of Mahiru again and he grinned. "There's so much you must tell me! But before that, what is the question?"

 "Why?" Mahiu blurted. "Why are you suddenly..." He trailed off and, at a loss for definition, gestured vaguely at Kuro. "Like this?"

 Shrugging casually, Kuro raised a brow. "One would act differently after becoming someone else, no?"

 Putting a finger to his brow in fatigued annoyance, Mahiru groaned. "No w I just know you're fucking with me."

 "Not yet, I assure you." Kuro said brightly, his grin widening impossibly when Mahiru blanched. "What can I say to make you understand?" He crossed his arms, gaze traveling lazily around the room. When his eyes lit upon the chair near the door and he paused. "I took from you and so you must take from me." He glanced over, his eyes shining through the shifting blacks and whites of his hair. "Give and take, tit for tat, you are a part of me and so I must honor that change. Act according to the new blood."

 Mahiru frowned, attempting to construct something realistic or even vaguely understandable from what Kuro had just said. "So, you're different because of me?"

 "Precisely. Perhaps if you were less stubborn I would not be quite so composed?" Kuro laughed, just a shadow of the maniacal, wild abandon from previously and shrugged. "It's an interesting change." He raised his eyes to the ceiling, as though looking up into the sky. "Not unwelcome. Certainly different from what I am used to."

 "What you're used to?" Mahiru prompted him after a moment.

 "Things at the court can be unbalanced." Kuro said slowly. "And so for the most part we are... unpredictable."

 Forgoing asking who exactly "we" was because he was fairly certain he didn't want to know anyway, Mahiru frowned darkly, remembering the shattered stalls and engulfing flames he had so barely escaped earlier."You seemed like a psycho."

 Kuro laughed happily. "That sounds like a compliment!"

 "It's not." Mahiru said flatly. "Psycho is bad." He too glanced around the small room quickly, taking in the limited space and lack of guest furniture. "So now what? I accept that you are some kind of- of- mythical creature. But I do not accept that I am stuck with you."

 "Whether you accept or not is of no consequence." Kuro sang, reaching out and plucking a sweater from where it lay draped over the foot of the bed. "We have a contract." He began to twist it back and forth, inspecting it from every angle, eyes wide in puzzlement.

 "About that. I didn't agree to any contract. So I don't really think it's legally binding." Mahiru crossed his arms, attempting his best impersonation of authority.

 Kuro shrugged, pulling the sweater over his head, horns turning to a bright translucent fog for a moment to allow for the collar to pass over them, and smiled, something quick and genuine, and Mahiru felt his heart skip a beat. "Unfortunate for you then that the fae do not care for legality."

It was an hour later, Mahiru standing in front of the cupboard contemplating it's bare shelving, that he finally admitted to himself that he was not the best at entertaining visitors. Not even a spare loaf of bread. He slammed the door shut in frustration and glanced into the living room, finding Kuri still curled up on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. Mahiru had turned it on in desperation about forty minutes ago and Kuro had not moved since. It was currently airing some strange episodic gum commercial but judging by Kuro's expression you would have thought it was a documentary of the end of the world.

 "How do they do this?" Kuro asked suddenly and Mahiru turned fully, watching as he pointed to the screen upon which was a helicopter view of the city.

 "Do what?"

 "Record this? Is that what you called it? It's so detailed!"

 Mahiru wandered closer, unable to ignore the impulse and peered over Kuro's shoulder. "You said you were some magical being but you've never seen a TV? Where have you been all this time?"

 "In the woods, mostly." Kuro answered casually. "It seems I should have ventured farther into town sooner!"

 Briefly imagining the utter devastation Kuro would have wrought unchecked had he indeed entered the heart of the town Mahiru held back a shiver and shook his head. "No. No way. You are way too much trouble."

 "It is not I that wishes for such destruction." Kuro said, flicking his sharp gaze up to Mahiru. "I only embody what you desire."

 "You keep saying that." Mahiru muttered, looking away in discomfort. "Listen. Do you need food? Or..." He trailed off in embarrassment, completely gobsmacked that the next words were about to leave his mouth. "Or are you actually a vampire?"

 "Vampire." Kuro rolled the word around for a moment and shrugged. "Call me what you will. You humans have always had such curious need to name everything. Regardless, it will not change that I simply am."

 Mahiru sighed. He really was getting so tired of all this mystical bullshit. "So then, did you want to get dinner?"

 Kuro froze, his shoulders going taut beneath the blanket he had huddled up in. "Dinner?" His eyes were darting from side to side as though in worry, though there was nothing but an innocuous soap opera preview on.

 "Yeah? You know, we go somewhere and get food? I honestly hate the idea of bringing you in public, but I don't have anything here." Mahiru admitted, frowning. "You have to behave."

 "Ah, I see." Kuro turned, fixing Mahiru with a strange look. "You need to eat then?"

 "I take it, based on this conversation that you don't actually require food." Mahiru muttered sarcastically. "But yes, I'm hungry."

 "Very well. Let's go." Kuro stood in one quick move, the blanket falling from his shoulders and to the couch and Mahiru flinched back a step, having completely forgotten just how tall Kuro really was. At his jerking retreat, Kuro raised a brow and a mocking smile flew across his face. "Do you truly find me so frightening?"

 An immediate affirmation withered on Mahiru's tongue as he studied Kuro's expression. It was neutral and empty but somewhere, deep beneath the veneer of indifference, he thought he could see a wiggling of disappointment. He didn't know what possessed him to do what he did, or even why he would care to do so in the first place but he found himself snorting and reaching out to wrap his hand around Kuro's wrist, tugging him roughly around the back of the couch and towards the kitchen. "Of course not, idiot. What's scary about you?"

[awed-frog]

I saw your notes on the outrageous post about the 1% and I couldn't help but be curious about they things your friend experienced...

Hi there! So, yeah, it’s kind of a freakish story, because Iwent to high school with this girl - we were in the same class, andshe was so sweet - the bookwormish and Did you know there’sa wasp called Aha ha and ‘save the whales’ kind ofstudent, you know? And after graduating, she studied maths, and thenwe sort of lost touch - I heard she was working in London when I wasliving in the UK, so I reached out and got a very weird email back.We finally met on a train, just randomly, about five years afterthat, and that’s when she told me what had happened to her.

[Disclaimer: I’m not saying all banks and consulting companiesare cults, but if how much money you make depends on how many peopleyou screw over, then maybe it’s normal you attract a crowd ofpsychopaths and pathological narcissists, and things generally godownhill from there.]

So, the thing is - with a maths degree, you can do a lot of stuff,but my friend had a bit of an adulting crisis at the end of herstudies, because, she told me, every choice seemed so very permanentand she wasn’t ready to commit to a 3-years research program orteacher training or whatever, and this is when she was headhunted bythe banking industry and basically they made her believe they’d bethe right fit for her.

(And let me just say - because of my Oxford degree, I’ve beentargeted as well, and that one evening I spent with them remains oneof the scariest beyond the looking glass shit I’veever experienced in my life.)

Of course, their offer is dreamy - a flexible whatever, she leaveswhen she wants, she gets a free course in what they need her to do, asalary with a shitton of zeroes and the job is based infucking London - and at this point, my friend isstill a normal a kid and she’s thinking, I’m notenthusiastic about what banks get up to and it’s not the mostinteresting thing I could do with my degree, but hey, maybe I canlive in the UK for a couple of years and make some money and thenfind something better. And so off she went, and as she told meabout how she found her first flat, well, that’s the same thing Iwas going through in that same period some sixty miles away, becauseshe still had a normal budget (what she’d saved till then? summerjobs and grandparents’ gifts and some paid grading) and it’s hardto find a reasonably priced room in London, so she had to picksomething that was more than one hour away from the City and thatsounded like a very boring and long commute, but hey, London! And atthis point, you know, she looked out of the window, and her storystarted to become a bit more disconnected, jumping back and forth, soI’ll try to piece it together chronologically, but man, it wasreally chilling to hear it out of order, and I wish you’d beenthere with me because I don’t know how well I can put it intowords.

Anyway, so the first thing that’s a problem are her clothes: shecan see that as soon as she steps into the place, the way people lookat her, and she doesn’t get it, because she’s wearing this smartpantsuit she’s already uncomfortable in, and what the fuck? Andluckily she doesn’t have to wonder long, because that’s, like,the first thing her boss (a man) says to her: that she can’t dresslike that, because she’s going to meet clients from time to timeand that’s just not appropriate and my friend - a shy 23-year-oldwho grew up in the mountains, in a village of 46 people - stilldoesn’t know what she’s doing wrong, exactly, and it’sso embarrassing, because this is a man twenty years hersenior and her boss and she’s talking to her like she’s naked orsome shit, and finally - finally - he explains that she can’t buyoff the rack - tailor-made only, please. And she’s so stunned shejust babbles that she can’t afford that and this guy - this guytakes his wallet and places, like, 10 000 pounds on the deskand Please go get changed. 

(“It was like Pretty Woman,” my friendsaid, “except creepier, because I didn’t know the rules. Ididn’t know, well - I was shocked. Like, was that a test? Should Itake the money or not? And if I take it, does that come out of mypaycheck? Is it a gift? Do I have a choice over the clothes I wear ornot? Should I stand up for myself or give up? How do I make a goodimpression here?”)

And the thing is, you want to be polite, right? You want to fitin. You assume other people know better. 

(Especially as a young woman.)

And so my friend took the money and said thank you and spent herfirst morning shopping in a weird luxury place that only had one ofeach and came with complimentary champagne and truffle-flavoured hamand there were no curtains and no changing rooms and she had to stripdown to her underwear right in front of the saleswoman, but it alsodidn’t matter because she was the only customer and the shop lookedlike someone’s living room and again, what are the rules? 

And the thing is - the way she described it, every day was likethat in several small, insidious ways, every day there were athousand moments when she didn’t know what people expected fromher, and slowly the desire to be a good colleague turned into a thisis completely normal and how everyone lives thing and shedidn’t even notice it was happening.

Like, at first she’d been shocked by the price of meals. Peoplewould routinely order up food, or go out for dinner and spendthousands of pounds on one lunch. 

(Thousands. Of. Pounds.) 

And she’d been shocked by the rent of her new apartment (with a60-minute commute, she had maybe two hours of sleep a night, so shehad to move closer to the City), because £5000 a month? Back in uni,that had been her budget for a whole semester. And she’dbeen shocked by how many clothes and shoes and designer handbags sheseemed to be needing. And at how she’d stopped doing anything forherself, or having any control over her body - she never had the timeto cook, or even shop (her luxury kitchen was pristine, her fridgeempty), and someone would come into work and do her hair and nailsand whatever else it is that women need and barely ask her aboutstyle and colour because they could see she was out of her depth.

(“You remember how I was before, right? When I first arrived inLondon, I didn’t know how foundation worked. I never painted mynails, either. For job interviews and stuff I’d wear some of thateasy-to-apply eyeliner and mascara and feel like Greta Garbo, but inmy office, it was considered - people just frowned at you, you know?Or disregarded your wishes, or whatever. One day - it must have beena week after I started - a beautician just showed up, started talkingto me as if we’d arranged an appointment, asked me to chose betweenfour shades of pink that looked the same to me. Turns out, acolleague had told her to come to me next, already paid for it, sowhat do you do? I had to sit there in front of everybody and let thiswoman do my nails - I felt like an animal in a zoo, but nobody waslooking at me, nobody found it weird.”) 

And, look, I can’t really explain it the way she did, but whathappened next was that she didn’t have time to come home for avisit for, like, eight months, and when she finally showed upeveryone was half proud, half terrified, because yeah, she lookedgood and rich and successful, but she was also -completely different? When she’d left, she’d beenthis normal kid, vaguely left-wing, who’d liked hiking and onlyowned sport bras, and now she was - she was weird. Shehad no sense of reality. No compassion for anything or anyone. Shewas cold, annoyed by everything, incredulous at the fact herfavourite brands were not available in local shops, insisting thather parents and siblings should buy this and that to make their livesbetter. She ended up fighting with mostly everyone and going back toLondon after three days, and in the year after that, she only tookholidays with colleagues - three days of snorkeling in Kenya, aprivate plane party, a weekend of golfing in Scotland - and now shewas the one ordering the most expensive bottle on the menu androlling her eyes at badly-dressed interns, because - she’d made it.She was the 1%. 

(Or would get there, anyway.)  

Luckily, there’s a happy ending, and it’s surprisinglyanticlimatic. 

One night, my friend looked up from a party of high-endprostitutes and drunken antics and she suddenly saw how crazy andunhealthy it all was. It just happened. She looked at the woman onher left, snorting cocaine and laughing, and then at the man on herright, who had a stripper on his lap, and she just - stood up andleft. The very next day, she quit the firm, donated half her earningsto charity, travelled through South America for three months beforegoing back to university. Now she’s a researcher (she doessomething complicated to do with game theory, and I don’tunderstand any of it), and also - she’s back to her old lovelyself. She sees her friends, she gets on well with her family. She’skind. She’s normal. As I said - happy ending.

[unofferable-fic]

The Flower & The Serpent (Arthur Morgan x OFC)

Chapter 3 - Full of Sound and Fury

Summary: In the early 1890s, the Van der Linde Gang were truly at their finest. Experts at stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, they’ve made a name for themselves across the West. Two of their newest recruits, a pair of rebellious Irish siblings with an unknown past, slowly find their footing and settle into their new lives as outlaws. And yet, as they grow older, threats from all sides begin to appear. A strained relationship with Colm O'Driscoll spells disaster for the gang, and no matter how far they roam across America, the world continues to change around them. If they want to survive, difficult choices must be made. No one is as they seem and the impending arrival of law and order threatens to tear the siblings, and everything they hold dear, apart. Is it too late for anyone to find a happy ending?

Originally found here

————

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OFC

Warnings: Language, violence, civilisation, jokes at John’s expense.

Word Count: 5,747

Previous Chapter    Next Chapter

Playlist: “Too Old to Die Young” — Brother Dege, “We” — Bon Iver, “I’m Shipping Up to Boston” — Dropkick Murphys, “Inverness” — Jed Kurzel

————

A/N: Also available on AO3. Chapter three comin’ at y’all. And yes I like to imagine that William somewhat resembles Luke Mitchell because he’s a beautiful boah.

23rd August, 1893, outside Winterset, Iowa

Another city, another bank to hit. Dutch is happy with our plan to take the bank in Winterset and chose a good team to work with. As well as the boss himself, he wants all experienced hands on deck, so John, Maebh, William, Hosea, and I will be attending. He asked that Karen come too so she can act as a distraction before we make our entrance. She proved she can handle herself in the last town, so we’re happy to have her along. Considering the Callander brothers are newer to how things work around here, he wants them to guard the camp.

With the plan to plant some of us in the bank beforehand, things seem good to go. As long as we get in and out with the money and keep casualties to a minimum — or preferably none at all — then we can call it a job well done.

* * *

“Marston, I’ve a question for ye.”

“What is it, Hennigan?”

Maebh looked up from reading her book beside the campfire. She raised a brow at William and John who sat beside her, the latter whittling away at a piece of wood while the former stared at him curiously.

“What happened to your voice to make it permanently raspy?” William enquired, scratching his beard thoughtfully. “Did Arthur punch you mad hard in the throat or somethin’ and you’ve sounded like this ever since?”

John frowned, his hands halting their movements. “I’ll have you know it’s hereditary.”

“Yeah? Who was your da? A furnace?”

Maebh casually added. “A Scottish furnace, actually.”

“My voice ain’t that raspy.”

William let out a snort. “Ah, c’mon now! You’re only twenty and you sound like you’re pushin’ on fifty.”

“No, I don’t.” Maebh tried to keep her mouth shut, but the look of amusement on her face caught the older man’s attention. “What the hell you smirkin’ at?”

She scoffed “Nothin’! Don’t bring me into your little tiff.”

John threw his hands up in the air and let out a huff. “Then maybe get your brother to stop botherin’ me.”

With a shake of her head, she shut her book and got to her feet. “He’s his own man and I’m not gonna tell him what to do.”

She left them to it, just about managing to hide her laughter as William continued to do Marston’s head in.

It had been three years since she and her brother found themselves in a spot while robbing a stagecoach, and thankfully being saved by Dutch van der Linde and his gang. Though they had both been skeptical of the group at first, seeing Dutch and Hosea focusing on helping those forgotten and in need across the country had helped to ease their worries. Now, they were well settled into their rolls and formed bonds with their fellow outlaws. Dutch had been the supportive leader they pegged him for — encouraging them to keep reading and ‘broadening their minds’, thus ensuring that they were made aware of what was happening in the country as governments, cities, and civilisation took over. While it was a nomadic life, it was better than what they had before. Together, they robbed multiple banks across the country, and gave vast amounts of wealth to the forgotten people who needed it.

The gang itself had acquired new tag-alongs and members since they first joined. Another pair of siblings, Mac and Davey Callander, had recently been recruited by Dutch after he encountered them partaking in a massive street brawl. They were a proper vicious pair of bastards by the sounds of the stories they told, but they bothered Maebh very little. Though they were particularly violent, they seemed to be able to control these tendencies towards their fellow gang members. Another newer member was a woman named Karen Jones. Bursting with confidence and personality, Arthur and Maebh were the ones to encounter the proficient scam artist in a local saloon. She did an impressive job of drinking the pair of them under the table that day and stealing their money when they blacked out. When they later tracked her down, they came with an offer rather than a loaded firearm. Last but not least, the ever flamboyant and mischievous Josiah Trewlany appeared randomly at camp a few weeks after Maebh and William originally joined. Apparently, he had been a member of the gang for a while, but rarely stayed at camp. He was constantly going to and fro, but always seemed to have a lead; the very reason Dutch still welcomed him upon each return.

Returning to her tent, Maebh set herself down on her bedding and continued reading. It was one of William’s plays — Othello — he finished it himself a few days ago and asked if she would read it so that he could hear what she thought. He was always one for long discussions about stories whenever they were travelling long distances for work, or while sitting in their tent at night. Having been familiar with Shakespeare’s work already because of his mild obsession with the bard, she was happy enough to read another of his tales. Frankly, she read any book that William hopefully plopped into her lap.

“Whatcha readin’?”

Engrossed in the story, she hadn’t noticed someone approaching. Tearing her eyes away from Iago’s monologue, she was met with Arthur standing in front of her. “More Shakespeare.”

“You really like his work, huh?” he asked, taking the book as she offered it to him.

“He’s more William’s favourite than mine, but I gotta give him credit where it’s due, it’s a good read.”

He flicked through the pages carefully. “Sure. Hope I ain’t disturbin’ your good readin’?”

She waved him off. “Nah. I’ve been at it for most of the mornin’ anyway so I should probably call it a day.”

He nodded and handed her back the play, resting his hands on his belt buckle. “If you ain’t up to much, I was gonna go do some huntin’ if you wanna join? You can ask your brother too if he ain’t busy.”

“Yeah.” She offered him a small smile. “That sounds fun actually. I could do with gettin’ outta camp for a bit.”

“Good, good. Grab your bow and I’ll fetch William before he makes Marston’s head explode.”

“Might want’a move quick, then.”

With a smile, Arthur left to do just that and Maebh gathered her hunting supplies in a bag. She hurried over to the hitching post where William’s mount, Dantès, was currently stationed and waited for the others. She offered him a sugar cube from her pocket and stroked his mane, admiring the animal with genuine fondness. She was surprised to see not only Arthur and William approaching, but also John following closely behind them.

“Marston wanted to join us,” Arthur explained as he readied Boadicea. “So don’t be surprised if him and your brother decide to turn a huntin’ trip into a competition.”

“No thanks,” William countered, patting his horse’s neck. “I’m just here to help get supplies. I’d rather beat him at a good aul fist fight anyway.”

“We can make that happen!” John assured him as he got on top of his own horse.

William shook his head and hoisted himself atop Dantès before he offered his sister a hand on to the back of the Dutch Warmblood. “You ever goin’ t’get yourself a new horse?”

“I will eventually,” she replied and hung on to his slim waist. “It’s not an easy thing to do, y’know, gettin’ over a horse.”

“You’ll know when the time is right,” Arthur added, taking his hat from his saddlebag and putting it on his head. “We ready to go, fellers?”

Soon, the four of them were heading out. They galloped through the rolling hills of Madison County, basking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. They reached a spot not far from camp that was known for having a decent amount of activity amongst the local wildlife. One of the many smaller ponds in the area, deer and other herbivores were common enough around those parts, especially on a hot day like this. They left their horses hitched to some trees and went about planning how to take down a few deer if they could. Splitting into two teams, the Hennigans went to one end while Morgan and Marston went to the other. Not far from where Dantès was hitched, Maebh spotted a rabbit slowly scurrying amongst the brush. Crouched low behind a tree, she notched an arrow and steadied herself when William encouraged her to kill it. It was released with a thwack, and flew through the air before successfully piercing the animal, killing it instantly. Its carcass was swiftly clipped to his saddle before the pair slowly crept to a spot near the lake. From here, hidden within some bushes and the shade of an overhanging tree, they could get a good view of the surrounding area and the deer that currently stood drinking water on its bank. Arthur and John could be seen on the other side, thankfully far enough away that their hunting wouldn’t disturb the Hennigans’ targets.

“Right,” William began in a whisper. “We’ve got three horses, which means three deer max. D’you want to get this one?”

She shook her head. “Nah. I got the rabbit — you can hardly go through a huntin’ trip without catchin’ somethin’.”

“If you insist, sis. You’ll grab its attention?”

Maebh watched as her brother carefully notched an arrow and steadied his aim with an unbreakable focus. They had hunted together on too many occasions to count throughout their lives together, so the process was familiar at this stage. When he gave her the signal, she whistled and caused a nearby buck to raise his head in response. Lacking any hesitation, he let the arrow fly and struck it in its neck. With a mewl, the buck fell to the ground and died as the other deer scattered in fright.

“Nice shot,” she commented, glad that the animal didn’t suffer needlessly. “Need a hand carryin’ it back?”

William grinned widely and stood up straight once more. “Ah, thanks, but I’m grand. I don’t want to give Marston an excuse to claim I wasn’t the one who caught it.”

“Don’t mind him,” she insisted, though her tone was moderately amused with the jesting. “He’ll probably pass comment regardless of who carries it back to the horses.”

“Probably,” he replied, and hoisted the carcass over his shoulder. “But no need to give him a bit of ammo.”

She shook her head as they strolled back to the horses, taking in the sight of the peaceful  little lake, now practically devoid of animals thanks to their intrusion. On the other side, she could just about see Arthur and John carrying their own kills in the same direction. “I swear, you’s two would make a competition out of breathin’ if you could.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea… We’ll see who can hold their breath underwater the longest!”

“You know he can’t swim…”

“… Who can hold their breath the longest in general then! First to pass out loses.”

“Jaysus Christ.”

Dantés waited patiently as the pair of them return to his side. While Maeve petted his mane, William loaded the buck on to his rear and secured it with some rope. Not long after that, their companions appeared through the brush, each carrying their own deer.

Maebh offered them a friendly ‘Howdy, gentlemen’, though Dantés still held most of her attention.

“Only one buck?” Marston observed, voice slightly out of breath as he carried the hefty animal. “You two are losin’ your edge.”

“Excuse me,” she interjected. “I’ll have you know, Mr Marston, that I caught that succulent lookin’ rabbit too.”

“And a fine rabbit it is,” Arthur chuckled good-naturedly. “He’ll taste good in a stew, although probably not if Pearson’s makin’ it.”

“Marston,” William announced and approached said man as he placed his catch on his horse. “Got a challenge for ya.”

John smirked. “You lookin’ to get beat, boy?”

“I’m only two years younger than ya, pal, calm down.”

“Alright, what you have in mind?”

“We both get thrown into the lake and the first to drown loses.”

Arthur burst out into a hefty laugh while Maebh found herself guffawing at the bitter look of displeasure on Marston’s face. She interjected before a full on fight could break out. “C’mon, let’s get these back to camp before you two have another one of your marital spats.”

Thankfully, everyone agreed to mount up and head back. The success of the trip had the group in good spirits and they took their time heading home, choosing to let the horses roam on an easy trot. As they made their way along the trail, William spotted a small band of wild horses grazing on a rolling hillside. A particularly beautiful chestnut stallion had the young man whipping out his binoculars to get a better look.

William let out a whistle before passing the device to his sister. “That’s some horse.”

“This might be a good opportunity for you to get a new mount,” John suggested. “Considerin’ it’s ’bout time you got one.”

“I’m not the best at breakin’ in horses,” Maebh admitted as she studied the animal from a safe distance atop Dantés. “I’ve much more experience with breakin’ in fellas.”

John spluttered at the retort while Arthur hid an amused grin. “We’ve got your back if’n you wanna try. Gotta try breakin’ in wild horses sometime.”

Knowing that her companions were right, and with a reassuring promise from William to step in if needed, Maebh hopped on to the ground and slowly approached the grazing horse. She planted her feet carefully as she waded through the grass, trying to keep herself  — and the animal — calm. Upon noticing her approach, the stallion raised its head and whinnied. The rest of the herd, alerted to the disturbance, began to scatter in the opposite directing, their hooves thundering into the distance.

“Hey there, big fella,” Maebh called out to the stallion, feeling a little stupid for doing so while her friends were nearby.

The horse stomped a hoof in reply, heavy breaths being snuffed from his nostrils. Despite his visible discomfort, he didn’t run as she continued to slowly make her way to him.

“My brother said you were some horse,” she continued. “And now that I’m up close to ya, I can see he wasn’t full of it.”

The animal began to make small jumps on to his back hooves, neighing as she closed the gap.

“Easy boy, easy… You’re alright. Look at you.”

Eventually she reached the stallion’s side with sure and careful strides. The animal, though somewhat calmer than before, was still visibly uncertain with her presence. She reassured him by carefully patting his neck, though always on edge in case he lashed out — the last thing she wanted was a horse shoe to the face. The thoughts had her heart thumping rapidly.

Thinking that the interaction was progressing well, she saw an opportunity and quickly hoisted herself on to the horse’s back.

It didn’t end well for Maebh.

She managed to hang on to the now panicking horse’s golden mane for some time, trying to desperately balance herself as it leapt around the pasture and tried to buck her off. The rapid spinning of the world around her and the deafening neighing quickly became too much. Suddenly, her balance was lost and she was falling through the air. The landing stung but she didn’t have much time to think about it; the stallion’s legs were kicking wildly and she could only assume she was in its path. Despite the wind being knocked out of her, she rolled her body in a direction she hoped was away from the  angered animal. She rolled and rolled and, as she sensed a distance being put between them, raised her head.

William stood beside the horse, lasso already wrapped around its neck and ensuring that the animal calmed down. Hands grasped her shoulders, and she looked up to see the worried expression on Arthur’s face. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” she admitted and winced as he helped her sit up. “I think I made a balls of that.”

“You nearly had it,” he replied and gave her a once over. “But I think it's in better hands now.”

Now that the horse had calmed down, William thrust the lasso into the stunned John’s hands before flying over to his sister’s side. “Are you alright? He didn’t kick you, did he?”

Seeing the panic in his green eyes, she tried to reassure him. “Nah, I’m grand.”

“You got bucked off a fuckin’ horse and you expect me to think you’re grand.”

“I am grand.”

“We’ll have Miss Grimshaw take a look at her back at camp,” Arthur added, presumably trying to calm the situation. “The main thing is she didn’t get kicked. Looks like she got away with only some bruises.”

She pouted at her sibling while he gently brushed some dirt off her tinted cheeks. “I’m sorry I gave you a fright, William.”

“You can repay me by lettin’ me help you back to camp.”

William and Arthur carefully hauled her to her feet, and she was relieved that she could stand without their assistance.

“She okay?” John called while he remained with the wild stallion a few feet away.

“She’ll be fine,” Arthur answered as he fetched their horses. “Doesn’t look like she got any broken bones.”

She allowed William to help ease her atop Dantés and carefully wrapped her arms around his waist as he sat in front of her. “Well, that was embarrassin’…”

“At least you got a new horse outta it,” he offered, taking the lasso as John passed it to him. “And you didn’t die either.”

“I think that horse is yours. You calmed him after all, and I don’t think he likes me much.”

William didn’t even glance at the animal as it followed them back to camp. “We’ll discuss that after we make sure you’re okay.”

Knowing that there was no arguing with him, Maebh simply let her cheek rest against his back and enjoyed the smooth ride home, nursing the ache in her hip and her somewhat fractured ego.

* * *

Arthur had thankfully been right — Maebh managed to escape the incident with no broken bones and only received a bit of hefty bruising on her hip and shoulder from the fall. It was nothing too serious, bar some cuts and grazes. She was mostly just relieved that none of her injuries kept her from the bank robbery that they had scheduled to do a few days afterwards. William didn’t leave her side for days, despite the fact she could walk and talk with no issue. She was however prevented from doing other jobs and leaving camp; Dutch said he wanted her in tip top shape for the robbery, so aggravating her injuries wasn’t an option. She did manage to convince her brother to keep the damn horse though, and now the stallion — formally named Banquo — stood grazing with the others at camp. Arthur checked up on her too, bringing hot food and coffee with him. His presence was appreciated, especially when she started getting anxious about being stuck in camp. At night time, Karen came to her with some beers and the two usually ended up drinking themselves to sleep after a sing-song with Uncle and Miss Grimshaw.

Maebh was relieved when the days passed by and the morning of the robbery arrived. She felt fit and ready for the occasion thanks to her few days of rest. Soon, she and William were riding into Winterset with Dantés and one of the spare mounts from camp.

The plan was simple enough. In order to avoid suspicions with a large group riding into town, she and William would go into the bank alone with concealed guns and inquire about making an account as a newlywed couple. Hosea would also go to the bank on his own, and the three of them would wait on opposite ends of the room for the others’ arrival. Karen was the signal that things would begin — she would come in, cause a distraction to grab everyones attention, and Dutch, Arthur, and John would storm the bank through the front door. Once they arrived, it was masks on and all hands on deck. Arthur was to intimidate the manager into opening the lock boxes as quietly and as quickly as possible. The others would keep the tellers quiet. The plan was that there would be no casualties.

They rode into town, dressed to impress in a suit and frock respectively. Having hitched their horses on the edge of town and entering the bank, Maebh and William played their part well, and the latter got into a casual conversation with one of the tellers under his alias.

“I think I should discuss it with my new wife before making a decision; she’d murder me if I did it without her. Y’know how women can be, huh, pal?”

They retired to a pair of seats on the right and pretended to be in deep conversation about their finances. Across the room, Hosea sat and made as though he was perusing through some bank statements.

“We’re lucky it’s not very busy today,” Maebh said to her brother in a hushed whisper. “Less people in the crossfire.”

He glanced around the room quickly before meeting her gaze. “Hopefully that’ll play in our favour. In and out in no time.”

It wasn’t long before wails could be heard outside and a figure came crashing through the front door. Karen stood there, dressed in her fanciest outfit with tears streaming down her plump cheeks. She heaved out complaints about an apparent man who had wronged her as one of the bank’s staff came to her side. Whatever attempts he had at hushing her were drowned out by her howling. She expertly drew him in, only to suddenly unveil a gun and push it into his gut.

Her voice shed its previous woes, now laced with stinging vinegar. “Get your goddamn hands up! This is a goddamn robbery!”

At her signal, Dutch, Arthur, and John burst through the doors, bandanas covering half their faces and guns raised.

“Nobody move!”

“Hands up!”

“Anyone moves and we shoot!”

John was on the teller with the keys in an instant, and William and Maebh moved into position. They tugged their bandanas on and William and Hosea quickly shut the front doors while Maebh waited by the teller’s door.

“Unlock the door,” John ordered and swiftly tossed her the keys. “Quick!”

Maebh did as asked, trying to ignore some of the pleads from the bank’s workers.

“This is a robbery, gentlemen,” Dutch announced, addressing the whole room. “And we don’t want to shoot any of you kind folk. So do as we say and no one gets hurt, is that clear?”

As soon as she unlocked the door, she called out to Arthur. “We’re in! Come help sort the vault out.”

While the others attended to those in the main room, Maebh, William, and Arthur stormed through the door to the vault. Arthur grabbed the manager by his collar and switched his demeanour like the flip of a coin.

“Open the goddamn vault!” he screamed, revolver pointed to his head. “Open it!”

“Okay, okay,” the manager said, voice quivering in terror considering he had three guns pointed at his head. “Just don’t hurt me, p-please. I’ve got a family—”

“Open the fuckin’ vault if you want’a see them again!” William growled, getting the man to move. “C’mon the fuck!”

He got to opening the vault, moving too slowly for their liking. With a swift whack of Arthur’s cattleman, he worked faster. “Sonofabitch, c’mon! Hurry up!”

The door opened with a heavy creak, and William pushed the suit into the vault with them. Inside were four lock boxes that were sure to hold ample amounts of money they could use. Though things were going well, Maebh could feel sweat building on the back of her neck.

“We’re in!” she called out to the others. “How you’s holdin’ up out there?”

“We’re fine,” Dutch called back. “Just make sure he opens those lock boxes up without causin’ any trouble!”

Arthur grasped the manager once more and threw him towards the lock boxes. “You best get them open before I put a goddamn hole in your head, boy!”

There was no arguing to be had, and the manager did as he was asked. They quickly shoved the contents of the lock boxes into four bags Arthur had brought along.

Once they were in the clear, William gave the manager a box and knocked him out cold. “That should give us a bit more time to get away.”

Before either of them could make a comment about how smoothly things had gone, a commotion stirred up in the other room. A single shot rang out. Glass smashed and screams erupted. Hosea’s voice could be heard amongst the rabble. “What the hell are you doin’?”

The trio emerged from the teller’s door to see Dutch stood by the front door, one of the window panes smashed through and glass littered on the ground. Maebh glanced out one of the other windows and saw a dead lawman on the street, blood pouring from a bullet hole in his chest. The weight of the money bag on her back felt all the more heavier now.

“What in the hell happened?” Arthur demanded.

“Lawman was investigatin’,” Dutch explained hastily. “He saw what was goin’ on — I had to shoot him.”

“We don’t kill people on these jobs!” Hosea argued, disgusted by the turn of events.

Dutch refused to back down. “We do when our lives are at stake!”

“Well now you’ve put all of us at risk! We could’ve done somethin’ else!”

Karen quickly joined Maebh at the window just as more lawmen appeared outside. “Awh, shit… We got more law outside, boys!”

“They sure as shit know we’re here now,” Maebh added and turned to face her friends. “What do we do?”

“We fight our way out,” Dutch answered, drawing his pistols in each hand. “And get back to camp alive and with the money. We’ve been plannin’ this for too long to give up now. We gotta leave this town as quick as we can. Arthur and I will open fire and force them to stay in cover while the rest of you get to the horses. Head down the alley and loop around; Hosea will lead the way. Shoot anyone in your way, you hear me?”

“Lead the way, Dutch,” John said and took the spare money bag from Arthur. “We’re right behind you.”

A swift glance amongst the group to ensure that everyone was ready, and Dutch was kicking the door open. He was the first to open fire on the waiting lawmen, who ducked behind shop fronts and buildings to steer clear of the bullets. Arthur followed, wielding a repeater and forcing their adversaries to hide if they wanted to avoid being shot. One by one they emerged from the bank, cash in hand and guns ready to take out anyone who threatened their escape. As always, Maebh planted herself ahead of William, staying low as they hurriedly turned and snuck down the side alley and through the back gardens of several shops and a hotel. The thundering clamour of guns firing and bullets flying through wood and clashing with brick could be heard as Hosea, Karen, Maebh, William, and John skirted around corners and hopped over short fences.

As the horses appeared up ahead, visibly skittering at the sound of shots firing, Maebh threw a glance over her shoulder to see if Dutch and Arthur were nearby. She let John and William pass her as she peered around one of the alleys.

“What are you at?” William asked, hesitating to continue.

“We can’t leave without them,” she insisted, wiping her brow and getting her breath back. “Two men against a whole load of law won’t end well.”

“It’s Morgan and Dutch; they’ll be grand. We need to stay with the others.”

Though the commotion continued to rage, she was relieved to see Arthur come barrelling around one of the corners, skidding on the dirt ground as he went.

Upon seeing the siblings, he sprinted to their side. “Y’all okay?”

Maebh shook her head. “I feel like we should be askin’ you that. Where’s Dutch?”

“Comin’ ’round now. He told me to go ahead, so let’s move.”

With his confirmation that their leader was alright, the pair followed the older man as they continued in their escape. As they reached the horses — the others already mounted up and ready to leave — Maebh saw Dutch appear from the corner where Arthur had come running. He was unscathed and thankfully outrunning and law that was following him. She would have grinned at the sight, had he been alone.

Before she could cry out in warning, an armed lawman leapt from around a fence behind Dutch. With a whack, he clocked him in the jaw with the butt of his carbine. Dutch was sent sprawling to the dirt.

Maebh grabbed Arthur’s arm in a knee jerk reaction and her breath caught in her throat.

As the lawman stood over their floundering companion and aimed his gun at Dutch’s head, she heard Arthur desperately calling out his name.

A single gunshot cracked through the air.

With a clatter, the carbine felt limply out of the lawman’s hands. His body went next, landing in a lump on the ground, and blood spurting from the wound in the back of his head. Dutch was stunned, as they all were.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” William asked.

Behind the lawman stood a reverend, decked out in a classic black coat and white neckerchief. Underneath his large brimmed hat was thick, wild ginger hair and a weary but anxious expression. In his hand he held a revolver, smoke steaming from its barrel — the weapon that had saved Dutch’s life.

“Thank you, Reverend,” Dutch said, voice cracking beneath his bandana as he let out a sigh of relief. “I think you just saved my life.”

“I think you were in trouble and I helped you,” the stranger replied, frowning beneath his moustache. “Doing nothin’ would’ve been wrong.”

Arthur quickly turned to the others atop their horses. “You three get outta here! We’ll make sure he’s alright.”

Needing no further encouragement, Hosea quickly guided John and Karen out of town at breakneck speeds. Maebh and Arthur sprinted to Dutch and his new friend while William quickly gathered the horses and prepared them for departure.

“Well, I doubt the law will see it that way,” Dutch said as she and Arthur quickly  helped him to his feet. “If you wanna live, I recommend comin’ with us.”

“I don’t even know your name,” he replied, but followed uncertainly as they approached their horses. “And by the sounds of things, you just robbed the bank.”

Dutch was quick to mount up and offered the man his hand. “I ain’t gonna lie to you — we did just rob that bank. There will be time for introductions later though. You saved my life, and I owe you a debt, Reverend.”

Though he hesitated for the briefest of seconds, the reverend took the offered hand and hopped on to the Count. Each of them mounted up, just as more law arrived in town, this time riding on horseback. Maebh grabbed her reigns and quickly pushed her horse to follow her companions’ tail. Last to leave, she tried to stay close behind her friends as they galloped out past the town’s limits.

Up ahead, Arthur called out. “More comin’ in!”

She looked up and, atop a small hill, three more riders appeared, coming towards them with guns drawn. Dutch was on them first, taking one man down while Arthur got another in a flurry of bullets. One remained, but she steered her heavily breathing horse in an attempt to dodge the oncoming attack. Her companions sped off up ahead, the continued strain of jerky movement causing her horse to tire and slow.

They were far off when her horse cried out in pain and several bullets struck the animal. For the second time in a few days, Maebh was flung from a stallion and sent crashing into the dusty road below with some force. Her head spun and her shoulder throbbed. She breathed deep, lungs working overtime to get whatever air she could down her burning throat. Quite suddenly, her scalp stung as a vicious hand grabbed her hair and pulled her head up.

She cried out as tears built in the corners of her eyes. Through blurred vision she saw the lawman who shot her mount. Now he stood before her, his gun stuck in her face. “I got you now, you little—”

A deafening blast cracked through the ringing in her ears, and the man’s chest quite literally exploded. Blood and bits of flesh and bone struck her face, and suddenly, the pressure on her skull relaxed. With a wobble, he crashed to the ground, revealing a fuming William behind him. He sat atop his horse, shotgun in hand with a look that could kill. His piercing eyes fell on her — his only visible feature thanks to his bandana — brow furrowed so deep into his brow that it cast a shadow over his youthful face and emphasised the scar marred into his skin. He barely even flinched as he holstered his weapon once more.

“Get on his horse!” he ordered through gritted teeth by the sounds of it. “We need’ta leave now!”

Though dizzy and trying to get her breath back, Maebh listened to her brother, and quickly hauled herself on to the abandoned animal. There was simply no time to think about what had occurred — if she thought about her close encounter at that very moment, it would surely cost her her life this time around. With a glance at the dead horse and body in the middle of the road, she lurched and kicked the animal into a gallop, following her brother over a hill and out of sight as cries from the evaded lawmen disappeared on the wind.

[dramallamadingdang]

Oh, God! Question meme! A really long one! Run! Hide!

Tagged by @ajaysims. *points* It's his fault! His! Not mine! ;)

This is really long, since it's a synthesis of two of these questions memes and I have verbal diarrhea. So, I cut.

Name: Katrina

Nicknames: Most RL people other than my kids and grandkids call me Kat because one syllable is less than three. :) Simmers call me iCad because that's what I chose to call myself when I started participating in the community. Hubby calls me Kitten. Kids call me Ma, usually in exasperated/long-suffering tones. Grandkids call me Mimi because I hate the usual things that grandmothers are called because they're associated with old people. I may be old, but I'm not old, y'know? :)

Zodiac sign: Taurus, but astrology is still bullshit.

Height: A hair less than 6'0/about 182cm. And very underweight due to digestive/metabolic issues mostly because of a malfunctioning liver. (No, not from alcohol. From having had asymptomatic Hepatits C that I most likely got from a blood transfusion in the early 80s, before they screened donated blood for that. It sucks, y'all. Cherish your liver. Baby it. Seriously. Stop with the alcohol. Just stop. Do weed instead.)

Orientation: In experience/practice: A Kinsey 2. In terms of the kind of person who attracts me: People with IQs over 130. I really, truly don't care what you look like, what gender you identify as, or what sex organs you have or don't have. Smart is seriously sexy. So, I'm sapiosexual. :)

Ethnicity: Whitey-white-white, yay! :| Glow-in-the-dark white. I-start-burning-in-the-sun-in-30-seconds white. Damn-near-albino white. Also, mostly of Welsh descent. Only sort of half-second-generation American on one side; my paternal grandma was one of those horrible immigrants who took a job away from a Real American(TM). She was even a somewhat illegal one, for a few months. But she was white and British so I guess that's OK.

(Sorry, as a person married to a man whose mum -- who is awesome -- was born in Mexico and who came here legally with her family when she was 7 and is a citizen but she still gets shit these days because she’s “a Mexican,” I've sorta come to really hate the kind of people who tend to call themselves Real Americans(TM).)

Favorite fruit: Okra, especially when part of aloo bhindi masala, an Indian dish. Okra IS a fruit. Really. Look it up. Also, tomatoes.

Favorite season: Autumn, when everything is dying. MWAHAHAHAHAH!

Favorite book series: Still Sharon Kay Penman's "Welsh trilogy." Also, though not really a series, per se: The Star Trek novels that were published in the 80s. They got mostly stupid after that, but there were some gems that were published in the mid-80s, before The Next Generation was a thing.

Favorite flower: Calla lilies. Usually used in funeral arrangements, along with Easter lilies, yay. Flowers of death! MWAHAHAH!

Favorite scent: Lilacs. Lavender. Honeysuckle. And this "rain" scent scented candle. It's so clean and fresh and not-perfumey, yet it manages to drown out the brine smell that eventually permeates everything when you live close to the shore...

Favorite color: Greens. All shades, although I prefer the yellower shades, especially the darker ones like army green. Also, orange.

Favorite animal: The spotted hyena, but I already extolled their many virtues the last time I did this list, so I'll refrain. Also, elephants.

Coffee, tea, or hot cocoa: Hell no, maybe, and yes please (if it's vegan), respectively.

Average sleep hours: Sleep? What is this word? *just came off a 38-hour work "day" a few hours ago, and I'm too wired to sleep.* YAY SHOWBIZ! :| But generally, when life isn't crazy, usually about 6 hours per 24 hour period. And I'm nocturnal, so those six hours are usually between about 0900 and about 1500. :)

Cat or dog person: Both person. And llama person. And alpaca person. And horse person. And snake person. And spider person.

Favorite fictional characters: Spock. (Well, actually, pretty much the entire original Star Trek crew except, well, Kirk. Whom I hate. With a passion. I really like Abrams-Kirk, though. Oddly enough. So it might just be that I can't stand Shatner...) The Cardassian characters from Star Trek: DS9, but especially Garak. Also, Julian Bashir and Miles O'Brien from DS9. Jack O'Neill and Rodney McKay from the Stargate franchise. KITT from the original Knight Rider. And Jayne Cobb from Firefly. (Hi, @eulaliasims!)

Number of blankets you sleep with: I'm in SoCal at the moment. No blankets because I tend to sleep in the warm part of the day. And when I do sleep at night, there's a furnace-like husband and a large, furnace-like dog in the bed with me. Blankets would be overkill.

Dream trip: Still Antarctica. Or space. But Antarctica is more likely at this point. ;)

Blog created: I think it was December of 2013. Maybe November. Ahhhh, those halcyon pre-2016 years...

Number of followers: Right now? 1443. It might change in an hour or so.

Time right now: About 0220 Pacific Time, Wednesday, March 22. One month and one day until my birthday. I expect presents, people! (Nah, I kid. Birthdays after 50 don't mean much. Hell, birthdays after 18 -- or 21, nowadays, I guess -- don't mean much. :) )

Last thing you googled: I was looking for some textures to use for some recolors I'm working on during downtimes at work.

Fave music artist: In terms of non-classical stuff: Queen, always and forever. But I also really like the Barenaked Ladies and other such alternative groups from the 90s as well as 80s New Wave stuff. Also, Metallica. In terms of "classical" stuff: Beethoven, always and forever.

Song stuck in my head: Beethoven's 8th piano sonata, 3rd movement. I was playing it at work today...on my cello. I'm working on arranging the entire sonata for solo cello...starting with the 3rd movement because I do better working on things backward. (Since I'd be willing to bet most people don't know the tune off the top of their head, here's Dubravka Tomsic playing it on youtube, if you're curious.

Last movie I watched: Star Trek Beyond. I liked it better than Into Darkness but not as well as the first Abrams-verse one...

Last TV show I watched: I have Stargate Atlantis paused on my computer screen at the moment. I plan to work on furnishing/decorating the house I put up for download tonight when I'm done with this, and I usually have a TV show playing while I build/decorate stuff in my game. :)

What I’m wearing right now: A pair of black sweatpants and a Telluride Daily Planet T-shirt. (That's the local newspaper at home. :) ) Boring white underwear. My fleece-lined moccasins because my feet are always cold.

The kind of stuff I post: Sims stuff, duh! At least on this blog. :) The other blog has the ranty/political stuff.

Why did I choose my url: Because I like to point and laugh at silly internet drama and because I own llamas, and I added dingdang because dramallama was taken and because of this song.

Gender: According to every one of those silly "What Gender Are You?" online quizzes, I am male, mainly because I'm a self-confident, argumentative, assertive, non-empathetic asshole who doesn't do "feelings." Yet, I have girl plumbing. Go figure. Meh, it's all just social conditioning and expectations, anyway, so...I rebel. I reject gender labeling and their associated roles.

Hogwarts house: I took a quiz once and it said Gryffindor. I've never read Harry Potter or seen any of the movies except one of them during an airplane flight...and I fell asleep during it, so...Yeah, I don't know what it means to be Gryffindor. Don't much care, either.

Pokémon team: Don't know anything about Pokemon, either.

Lucky number: 13 because I am anti-superstition. (Well, except when it comes to white pianos, of course, but I have hard evidence that they are evil, so it’s not superstition. ;) ) Or 42. Take your pick.

Dream job: I once said "Not having one" but then followed it up with "but that's boring." So, I decided to take on some work through June. And you know what? I'm gonna go back to "Not having one." I just need to find some volunteer work to keep me occupied for a few hours a day. Not for 38-hour "days," though. :p

Relationship status: I is married to my second husband. He's cute. And a lot younger than me, woooooooo! First marriage wasn't nearly so fun, though. The only good thing that came of it was my kids.

Pets: Oh, God. Most of them are back home in Colorado (where I have a 39-acre ranch) while I'm here in California, but:

A herd of llamas and alpacas, about 50 total at the moment, but "unpacking" season is approaching, so that number will be going up to about 65 soon. 5 horses 2 nanny goats...which actually belong to a neighbor but they're currently housed on my property, so...they count! 8 dogs 5 cats...although sadly that will probably be going down to four soon because the 18-year-old whose had health problems all her life is currently quite sick and likely won't be getting better. :( Also, there are a ton of barn cats, but they don't really count as pets. A flock of chickens. 1 rooster, the rest hens. 1 California kingsnake 5 tarantulas, various species 8 dragonfly nymphs. I think 2 will become dragonflies this year because I've had them for a few years now...

Last song you listened to: Beethoven's 5th piano concerto, for somewhat sentimental reasons.

Favorite TV Show: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. I love the original series a lot, too, but DS9 surpassed it in my book.

First Fandom: Star Trek, of course. I remember declaring that I would marry Spock when I grew up. I was 3 at the time, in 1967, watching the episode "Amok Time" (in which Spock almost gets married) in its original run. We'd only just gotten a color TV a few months before, so it was REALLY COOL. I also wrote a crapton of fanfic in the 70s/80s and a bit in the 90s. Even published a 'zine in the 80s. It was expensive as hell back then but SO MUCH FUN!

Randomly Tagging People I Don’t Think I’ve Tagged For This Thing Before: @randommindtime (It's what you get for following me!), @yandereplumsim, @elfpuddle, @halousims, @nuttydazesublime, and @kayleigh-83. As always, feel free to ignore for whatever reason. :)

[journeysintowebcomics]

Homestuck Liveblog #157

UPDATE 157: And There Was Oil Everywhere

Last time everyone alive had despaired for a while, then decided to start working to solve the disastrous situation they were in. Roxy went to meet her denizen, and John is going to try to get a grip on his retcon powers. Terezi...uh, guess she’s going to bleed to death. So let’s continue!

Since Terezi’s attempt to do something didn’t work – apparently not my fault, it wasn’t supposed to work yet -- she just...gives up and decides to lie down and die, so to say. It’s not a cheery thought, but she had enough of everything. At least John is determined to do something useful, and leaves Terezi behind. Good luck, John, everyone’ll need you to succeed. Otherwise this story is over, and I know there are like...a thousand pages left! It can’t end here.

Cut back to Jade and Calliope, still talking about what the other Calliope said. Cool, what is it? Jade’s tale starts in the land of Wind and Shade – John’s land, that’s where John’s death started.

A lot of credit to the artist who draws these images, really. So, the tragedy started shortly after the three-year journey began. She just was there, sitting around and minding her own business, when randomly John’s planet explodes. John and Davesprite perished.

Well that’s a bit of an anticlimactic tale. I thought it was going to be about John’s death, but we just started and John died! Like one minute into the story. Awful storytelling, Jade! Hah! Okay, let’s get serious for a second. Why’d the planet randomly explode? It’s true it had abundance of oil, and therefore it was flammable, but a lot of heat and oil would be needed for the whole planet to explode. Did something happen at the core of the planet?

JADE: i supposed it must have meant johns death was heroic... but i couldnt for the life of me imagine how

Huh, that is...something to wonder about, that’s for sure. A heroic death involving the planet exploding, hm...well, it isn’t confirmed the explosion and John’s death are related in any way. Heroic deaths have many ways to happen, it could be possible that John died saving Davesprite in some way, maybe from the explosion or from something else. There are many possibilities. Maybe the doomed Calliope does know and told Jade, and that’s going to come later.

...it’s very sad that she spent three whole years in mourning and without the company of her two friends. Ouch. But of course this isn’t what happened to the Jade I know. The Jade from the story isn’t the same Jade that was crushed by a building. Who knows, maybe John’s retcon powers have affected the timeline in unexpected ways, creating these events in a different timeline.

Three years passed, and as expected they weren’t fun years for Jade. One day, she fell asleep and dreamed the alternate Calliope.

Cool! Excellent art, seriously. I really like it. So they traded stories...and Calliope specifically mentions she killed her brother. Really? How did that happen? Please, tell it, Hussie, that’s something I have great interest to hear about! But for now John’s death is the focus of Homestuck, so of course Calliope’s tale is about that.

JADE: she went on to say that lowas was destroyed because johns denizen had suddenly woken up  JADE: typheus, a great monster of truly terrifying power  JADE: she said he had destroyed his land and slayed his own heir of breath not out of malice, but to make a slight correction 

Ah. That explains how the planet was destroyed. Denizens reside in the center of the planet, don’t they? Yeah, it makes sense. ‘A slight correction’ is a strange way to phrase the denizen’s reasons, though.

It seems the John from the Game Over timeline did reach an agreement with that Typheus, and the consequence of such bargain was for this John and Davesprite to die. Huh. That’s...certainly a consequence. I can only see one reason why that’d happen, though, and it’s if somehow the John from the Game Over timeline is meant to replace the John that just died. If so, that’d make the timeline from Calliope’s story be the new main timeline, wouldn’t it? I mean, bigger purpose and all, and I don’t think a timeline with two Johns would work. Yeah, this could be what’s going on.

...the difference between that doomed Calliope and the Calliope that lost to Caliborn seems to be that one never contacted humans. Ouch. Being less lonely – not by much, but less lonely nonetheless – may have changed Calliope’s tendencies towards an attempt to work with Caliborn instead of resisting and ultimately overcoming him. Welp. At least I don’t think Calliope would ever regret making friends with the humans.

So, about the deal, the two plots currently ongoing are fusing together, because now Jade seems to be telling how the John from the Game Over timeline achieved his deal with his denizen. Hopefully it won’t start here and then end in “and so he achieved a deal!” the next page! While Calliope continues dutifully drawing what Jade tells her to draw for the benefit of the invisible audience, she decides to take a pause.

JADE: hmm, maybe we should pause before i go on?  CALLIOPE: paUse??  JADE: like  JADE: some sort of intermission  JADE: so i can collect my thoughts a bit, and to give the audience a little breather between two significant arcs  JADE: we were at it for a pretty good while there, after all  CALLIOPE: what... aUdience?  JADE: well, that would be you in this case  JADE: ooh i know!  JADE: i can doodle a quick story about the antics of the silly consorts on the golden ship before moving on  CALLIOPE: >:U

Oooooh no. Please don’t. Heck, not even Calliope likes the idea! No intermissions, Jade, please! Let’s get this done as soon as possible, shall we? You don’t want to lose the momentum of the story! But nope, looks like it’s time for an intermission, featuring the consorts. Oh well.

I’m curious how you differentiated one consort from another enough to give them names, Jade. Animals don’t look too different from each other!

You seriously named one ‘yiffyiff’ with a straight face. Oh dear. Calliope lost her patience with this intermission, thankfully, and tells Jade to forget about the silly consorts and focus on the tale. Hah! Thank you so much, Calliope, knew I could count on you. Aaaaanyways, about the story. As said, John returned to his planet to attempt to strike a deal with his denizen, and hopefully save the situation. The personal quests each player has usually affect the planet in a way that solves whatever widescale problem it has. In John’s case, fireflies were trapped underneath the clouds. Given that John can use wind powers, it’d make sense for him to dispel the clouds with wind, right? Shouldn’t be too difficult for him now.

JADE: to free the fireflies john would have to play a special song JADE: it had to be played just right to summon the breeze through the pipes 

...nevermind! It isn’t as easy as I thought it’d be. In Homestuck, things are never as simple as they could be. The song mentioned there would be done through the pipes, but it was all clogged with oil. To do it, John’d need to confront Typheus. It’s said Typheus filled the pipes with oil, after all. John journeyed into the fortress of the denizen, this time hopefully not to be killed like a chump.

Hah! Calliope is having doubts about drawing Typheus, because it’s a big snake. Of course. Why does everyone in this story have to be a teenager, hahaha. How about you don’t draw Typheus, Callie, and just pretend he’s there? It isn’t like Hussie has ever drawn a denizen besides Yaldabaoth! Go ahead, take a page out of his book, because I’m sure Typheus won’t appear in the frame.

JADE: why dont i draw it?  CALLIOPE: very well.  CALLIOPE: bUt yoU mUst excUse me if i giggle.  JADE: ok but i dont see whats so indecent about a big old snake!  CALLIOPE: tee hee!  JADE: lol

Hussie, you totally made cherubs turn into astronomically large snakes at their mating phase just to do this. I swear I’m 100% you did it for this. Ouroboros or Auryn imagery? Pah! No, forget all that, those all were coincidences or second thoughts. The real reason was that Hussie wanted to make alien innuendo in-story, you can’t fool me, Hussie!

And indeed, Jade doodles Typheus and Calliope can’t avoid giggling like a flustered schoolgirl in a biology class about the reproductive system.

I stand corrected, Typheus is here and on-screen...kinda. Wasn’t it said at some point that Typheus was hideous? I suppose I should be glad these glitches and the lens flare exist. So, John arrived and made his request, immediately being given his options. Apparently at times like these, what option to choose is a no-brainer. It’s never said what the exact options are, but given that John is determined to learn how to use his retcon powers, I can imagine what they are.

Whatever John chose, it led to Typheus flooding the place with oil, a life-or-death situation. Either he made himself disappear, or he’d die...hm. Would that even count as a heroic death? There’s nothing heroic about drowning in oil, even if it was to save the timeline.

...oh. Jade is right, simply disappearing and saving himself that way wouldn’t help the planet. I hadn’t thought about that. A third option is needed, and what John decided to do...

...was make the oil disappear. Oh! Right. Honestly, I wouldn’t have thought about that on the first try. It seems obvious in hindsight. I have no idea how John managed to make all the oil disappear when he was having trouble making himself disappear, but eh. I’m not going to complain. John has made progress, and that’s what counts.

Oh! So that’s what all the oil everywhere was! I...I honestly stopped paying attention to the oil and the arms. But yeah, here’s the explanation of all that! Clever, John, dispersing all that oil through time and space. Does it mean he managed to clear the pipes? Wow, excellent! And now he’s able to play his instrument and complete the goal.

An organ? Good thing John has experience playing the piano! Pianos and organs aren’t the same thing, but if I’m not mistaken the principle is more or less the same, isn’t it? The flash file that has the music is...rather reminiscent of other songs I have heard before! I can’t pinpoint which ones, though. I know that harlequin song was in there, but I’m sure there are another two or three in this.

The wind was so strong it managed to push out the cartridge from the machine, clearing out the candy corn and the dust! John may have managed to remove all the glitches from the session! That’s very impressive! Here we go, points for quick thinking and for finally learning how to use these complicated retcon powers.

Seriously impressive! And the end result was far more than I expected. I knew John would manage to clear up the clouds, I mean, that seems to be a vital part in this all mess so it was likely he would, but I didn’t think he’d remove all glitches.

Without the clouds this is a seriously beautiful-looking planet. So what’s left to do now that he learned how to use his retcon powers? Meet with Roxy, I suppose. I wonder if we’ll see her side of the story, what she talked with Nyx. She must have had her own choice to do.

Now that the fireflies are free, John walks around the planet. All these places and moments I had forgotten, hm. There’s the village where John threw a flammable shaving cream bomb, and here’s the car that crashed down from high near the house. Along the way he finds Roxy. Guess talking to her is happening sooner than I thought it would!

But that’ll be for next time.

Next update: six updates

[wordsablaze]

#11: Exams and Explorations

Match of Magic What if destiny chose soulmates through literal aesthetic matches? What if education fused with impossibility and reality faded away? Dan and Phil must unite, work together and help each other live the best of all the worlds they can…

(Phil POV)

Ouch!

I pull out the stray tree branch that’d fallen into my hair as I walked further up the path but I hadn’t bothered to remove while waving to Dan. I whirl round and duck my head through the glass doors after Dan blushes before promptly hurrying to try and hide himself among all the other students.

Only managing a few steps, I have to stifle a yelp as I trip over someone’s stray fountain pen lying on the floor. Trying to ignore the mildly concerned but wholly unhelpful awkward laughter around me, I speed up and make my way forwards, hoping nobody else trips on it as well, not that they’re as likely as me to do that.

So much for hiding.

It’s easier for Dan to hide anyway; he’s not quite as freakishly tall as I am. Not yet anyway, but who knows? Maybe he’ll have a growth spurt or something. Still, he’s not even nearly as vertically challenged as some of the people I know who can barely reach their lockers.

While I can’t quite become one with the crowd and achieve total immersion like he can, I do manage to hide in plain sight as I slip in to the psychology classroom, taking a seat at the back of the room. I’d love to sit at the front sometime but that’s where all the people who mean something to the weird teacher go anyway so what would I do there?

I don’t think said weird teacher is a massive fan of me, only because he can’t ‘figure me out’, which he, being a psychology professor, doesn’t seem to appreciate.

I watch as everyone piles in, chatting loudly and senselessly exchanging stories simply or the sake of telling them to somebody, anybody, whoever’s walking with them at the time. I glance at them wistfully for a second, then shake my head.

I’m sure I’ll be able to do that with Dan. He’s the best person, ever. With his quixotically soft bold voice, dimples and the jumper sleeves that fall down past his fingertips when he lets his arms hang loosely by his side.

For once, I elect to ignore everyone else and focus on my rather pathetic attempt at what most people would call a sketch, opening the so-called sketchbook to the back and starting to try and draw without thinking too much about it. I’m not exactly the best, or any other kind of, artist, as anyone could tell from every single report I’ve ever gotten from someone with teaching authority, but I can randomly doodle things that vaguely represent what I intended them to be.

My pen smudges as the boy beside me whacks my head with his bag, probably accidentally but I can’t be sure. I wince and try to correct the smudge, then shut my book as Steven scowls at me.

“You.” he mutters darkly, moving to sit in front of me. It’s not as if he has anything against me personally but he is friends with Will and Ken and it’s as if he’s obligated to try and insult people as a part of their friendship. His comment might have really made me feel bad yesterday, or earlier today for that matter, but now I know I have Dan.

I can feel it, inside of me. An ephemeral void, the part of me that glows brighter than a supernova when my matched is by my side. Now I know who that is, I can feel it. I can always feel it. I hope I never stop feeling it.

In the end, I sit alone at the back. Mr Mundiv strolls in with a classical teacher smirk on his face and a fairly huge wad of thick papers in his hand. The entire class groans but I secretly smile, not minding a surprise assessment.

He glances at me with suspicion as he hands me a paper but I smile back, not in the mood to feign anything and create a false veneer of exasperation just so the people in my class ignore my bizarre enthusiasm and leave me alone.

Mr Mundiv brightens, nodding in acknowledgment and handing me the answer paper so I can don’t end up writing on my question booklet.

I have to wait until he starts his timer – the obnoxiously loud, distracting one someone had idiotically super-glued to his desk but clearly hadn’t thought their plan through because now he can irk the spirit out of us with the relentless, jarring ticking.

One look at the questions in front of me and my pen is flowing across the paper with my, according to everyone else, surprisingly neat, scrawled handwriting left in its wake, the black ink filling the page as fast as my fingers can manage. I half wish we could use blue ink but that goes against examination regulations for some reason.

What’s wrong with the colour blue? Or even the colour green? What about rainbow ink? Maybe that’s too much but why does it need to be black?

The girl on the desk in front of me rotates in her seat to check the time about halfway through, then freezes completely as she sees my essay question and compares it to what she’d done – apparently not as much as i have if the panicked expression on her face is anything to go by.

Her entire frame stops moving for a few seconds, her hair falling in front of her face as she considers something. She shoots me a pleading look but I shrug and simply smile with the bitterest expression I can muster, which is still technically a clue if she’s able to recognise it. She sighs and heavily whacks her head on the desk before perking up, evidently catching on to what I was hinting at to her.

I shake my head and carry on with the questions, struggling with a few wayward ones but managing to confidently fill out the majority of them.

After I’ve finished, I pull out my sketchbook and carry on with my rudimentary drawing, not paying too much attention to what it is at first, then realising it’s a majestic pair of wings – that probably could have been even more majestic if I was even remotely skilled at sketching. I gasp as quietly as I can to avoid Mr Mundiv noticing, running my finger over the ridges of the wings and the now useful dark blur where my pen smudged.

I smile at the inky page and focus on making the silhouette of the boy look like an actual boy, then what turns out to be a weird anime version of Dan.

Does Dan watch anime? Will we have the same tastes? The same interests? The same hobbies? I hope so…

By the time we finish, I have what’s essentially a complete sketch and a fatally dying black ink pen that’s verging on going grey with exhaustion. I hand my paper in last even though I finished first, wanting to avoid the rush of people jostling past each other.

Except, I don’t. Not quite.

The girl, who I smiled at halfway through the exam, jumps, having been standing directly outside the door as I leave, “Hey man, I thought you got lost inside or something.”

“No, why?” I ask, slightly wary.

“I just want to say thanks. It was nice of you to help me. Why are you so quiet?”

“I just am, I suppose.” I reply, smiling a little but not sure how to answer that question. How can anyone answer that question? What do people expect from that question anyway? It’s not like I’m quiet inside my head, it’s just that I don’t feel the need to comment aloud on what other people are involved in and I don’t think people want to hear what I’ve done either. Besides, the people who don’t mind listening to me are subscribed on YouTube; I can talk to them.

“Okay. Well, if we ever do paired work, do you want to work together?” she asks me, tying up her messy sky-blue hair as she speaks. Clearly she’s determined to keep me as a friend and organise her year so I nod, still unsure whether to trust her or not.

Her smile softens so I guess she’s good at reading expressions, or maybe just actual psychology.

She nudges my arm lightly, hitting my elbow because she’s not as tall as me, “I promise on my laptop, I’m being genuine.”

“Alright.” I laugh.

She smiles, “Great! See you tomorrow…um…sorry, I don’t remember your name?”

“I never told you, you see.”

She bursts out laughing, the kind of laugh confident people do. She seems to be pretty forward, saying whatever comes to mind.

She winks, “Humour, nice! Watch out for the quiet ones, huh?”

“If you want.” I smile, laughing with her, “I’m Phil.”

“I’m Lesley.” She grins, “Lesley Rauner.”

“Nice talking to you.” I say, shifting slightly.

“Yeah, you too. You should talk more; you have a bright voice. Catch you later, Phil.”

She waves as she runs down the corridor, hugging a girl that turns the corner. The two of them clasp hands and Lesley starts talking naturally, with such a cadence that there isn’t a doubt of them being matched with each other.

I adjust my bag and quickly speed-walk to the swing set, the pressure of a constant void inside me being lifted as I catch sight of Dan. It’s only now that I really comprehend how dark he’s managed to make his attire seem.

We’re wearing the same white shirt, grey trousers and blue tie with a blue blazer but he seems to have tinted everything he owns into a blacker shade. His white shirt could have been tie dyed with a weak black dye for the pattern that it’s sporting and he’s wearing the darkest shade of blue possible for a tie. His blazer can only just be called blue, so dark it’s practically a personified midnight sky. Even his grey trousers have clearly been blackened in some way or the other, bordering on black anyway. Either that or he just bought really dark grey trousers to start with.

He grins widely as his gaze slams into mine, his cheeks being lifted up by the force of his smile and crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. His dimples deepen as he grins and even his darkened amber eyes arch a little bit.

He looks adorable.

I settle on the swing beside Dan, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Dan smiles, winking at me with his right eye, “How was psychology?”

“Boring: we had another surprise test.” I roll my eyes and he laughs,

“You totally aced it, right?”

“I hope so.” I laugh, his confidence in me causing me to smile wider.

He nods thoughtfully, then holds up the novel that he’s picked out of the bag that’s lying at his feet. Or rather, the screenplay. He waves it around, then seems to catch himself and nervously clears his throat, fiddling with his hands a little, “Want to vicariously travel the universe?”

“Count me in, for sure!” I smile, mirroring his delighted expression, edging my swing closer to his one so we can each hold a side of the book while we read it. He starts, reading out the instructions by accident, then freezes, shutting his eyes and sheepishly pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, um…” he sort of says, sort of mumbles, sort of curses.

“S'okay. Carry on, you’ve got the perfect voice for it.” I smile in what I hope is an encouraging way and he laughs, nodding in agreement. Silently clearing his throat, he puts on his really deep voice again and continues.

We switch after each chapter and split the characters between us as we go, laughing and gasping for breath at the plot twists and turns we make into our own throughout the story. I’ve never had this much fun reading aloud and I know Dan hasn’t either because he keeps excitedly grinning and trying to repress a laugh or turning away from me just as I look at him.

Somehow, we end up on the floor in front of the swings, leaning on each other to keep us from falling and breaking our skulls as we finish half the book. We stop reading the loquacious story and Dan smiles widely at me, “Think this is a good time to stop?”

“Yeah, sure. We can finish it next time.”

“Next time?” he asks quietly.

Of course. What, you don’t think you could spare even a little time to finish this?

Can you?

“Yeah, if you want.” I grin. Dan’s answer is definitely yes if his wide grin is anything to go by.

We exchange a glance as we check our watches: we’ve spent almost an hour spending time together without even thinking about lunch. For me, that’s something new. I can’t go without food! I can’t even stay away from it in my live-shows when I’m meant to only be talking. But it’s okay. I wouldn’t mind giving up on food so I could spend time with Dan.

He puts his book away inside his – obviously – black backpack and grins widely. We both quickly pull out our sandwiches and start to eat them. Mine only has jam inside it but I can smell cheese on Dan’s sandwich.

I give him a look and he shrugs, “What? Just because you don’t like cheese doesn’t mean I can’t like it.”

I frown, “How did you know I don’t like cheese?”

He freezes, “Uh, you gave me this look.” he replies before sheepishly grinning and taking another bite of his lunch. I smile and shake my head, not really minding. I wonder if I should tell him about my YouTube channel – I’d love to include him in my videos. Obviously I won’t if he doesn’t want to but it would be nice.

Either way, could I get a better match?

Could I even have a better match than Dan?

Could I get any luckier?

like/reblog but don’t repost, thanks!