Finnigankale:

finnigankale​:

Well. She certainly had a charming personality.

“And scuffle over the good stuff? What ever happened to a little honor among thieves? First come? First serve? …No?” When she showed no signs of acknowledging the childish rule, Kale huffed and looked around the wreckage. “ ‘Kay. Halfsies it is. You wanna split it top-bottom or back-front?” 

“Who’s a thief?” Well: Her, clear-and-obviously, and him too, but neither of that wasto stop her from playacting some dignity. “No laws ’gainst making good use of whatsists left all’to waste anyhow.” Whole bully playbooks and reams of laws, morelike.

But she let go of a little-a the stress in her stance anyhow, on account of how no strongarm worth his weight would give her neither first serve or halfsies either. Might be this kid wasn’t a threat, a’least.

Gag-Arm gave him an abrupt catmoon like the sucker-up she was, all pie-eyes and smallness. “I o’nt need much, so I’ll be peaceable an’ give ya two-thirds of the lot if y’let me take up front!”

It was a back-hold type, anyway, all the gudge goodies in the back and the carryables and smallsie engine bits she could make any use of ’round the front by the pilot’s seats. All good and fair, huh? Nothin’ to pick a fight over?

skymade‌ :

   “Yeah.” A code does mean something. Or it’s supposed to, anyway. Codes can still be broken.

   Promises can still be broken.

   Anything in this realm – of the living and breathing and shit – can and will be broken, and, y’know, she’s not too sure how she feels about all of that. Not great. But not like she can do anything to change it, either. 

   “Oh. Mitt. Okay. But no. It’s – Gag-Arm.” The words mean something that doesn’t quite make sense, but isn’t that all names? Isn’t that just the way they fucking go? “Gag-Arm. Gag-Arm. Wow! I got it first try! Are you proud of me? You totally should be proud of me. That’s usually, like, last try stuff, y’know? Super last, bottom try.” 

“Gag-Arm,” she says back again and gives her head a bob, t’show they have the works. “It ain’t true,” —waggles her fingers, snickering through her nose,— “but it’s funny, hey?”

Funny largely on account a’ the leg, which Willow won’t be able’t make sight of under her snapper shroud, she reconnoiters anomolater. Ah well.

“Works out there’s a certain kind’a style in only learnin’ names when you’re on  guh-bye.” That makes her laugh, too. Can’t say how serious Willow is or ain’t, like whether she’s joshin’ on her, but mightbe it doesn’t matter.

“So, you been...”  ( It takes her a mo to work out how to say it clear, but she hits on a word she figures lilac will get the measure of: )  “ free  f’r long, then, Willow?”

That man is richest whose pleasures are cheapest.

Henry David Thoreau (via gnngoodquotes)

skymade​:

   “What if I wanna one-chump it?” She’s opening her maw wide, again, now hooking a finger on one side. C’mon, she can totally get it in… totally, right?

   “Aah oong–” Releases her mouth, wipes her thumb off on her pants, and tries again. “I don’t have a – a cutty-thingie. Y’know? I mean. Sometimes I just use a sharp, like. Corner or something, if I gotta cut something off, but… That’ll probably just…” She mimes squishing the cake, with a hand come hard above it, stopping just before it meets frosting.

Clock’s still tickin’ by, and Gag-Arm’s gathering flies, saucery-round eyes fixated on Willow’s mouth where she’d had her finger in it. “Wh—...” Her face turns a great old cherry-light carmine as her brain turns itself back into working order and she realizes what a zooker she must looklike.

“No reason not’t squash it, I guess,” she mumbles, fumbling likewise in her bindle for the little knife what should be in it. “But y’can use this. Instead. ’F you figure y’don’t wanna waste all the elbow grease I put int’ that frosty.”