Have been in a jag of "don't wanna do annnnnnnything" for the last week or so. Am slowly working back to a point where I'm not going to stab people/things with vitrolic hatred. Apparently this is a good thing. Personally, I just think it has a lot to do with being home for a bit once more.

For Ms Gidj... because outlaw!slash. Kinda.



‘Do you miss ‘em?’

Joe blinked lazily against the damp smog of the fire that Dan had started, turned his head to peer, narrow-eyed and curious, through its plumes at Ned. Seated beside him, backside against the dust and clutter of the bush floor, Ned seemed oblivious to Joe’s stare, his own focused upon the smatter of flames that barely warmed them.

‘Who?’ Joe asked, coughed a little against the smoke as it touched his throat in choking waves of tinder scent.

‘Your sisters.’

He pursed his lips, scowled bitterly at the fire. ‘No.’ he said, then: ‘Just little Ellen. Don’t miss the others with their snivelling about how I’m bloody useless.’ His scowl became a thoughtful frown and he risked a glance towards Ned. ‘You?’ he asked.

Ned shook his head, his eyes wide with distance, his mouth twisted into the vague semblance of a smile. ‘Nah.’ He said. ‘Not really. Girls are alright – except…’

‘They’re not.’

‘Aye.’ Ned grinned, threw it casually in Joe’s direction, and it was as though he could no longer taste the bittersweet smog at the back of his throat, no longer feel the sting against his eyes for the brilliance of the smile…