Guns and 'Birds @thirdstreetthunderbirds - Tumblr Blog

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Hellooo, aaah it's been a long time! Been rewatching TAG and drawing as I go through each episode so here's what I've drawn lately. Most of the non TAG or Saints stuff I've drawn can be found on my Twitter (MuddyLaneArt) it's mostly Devil May Cry stuff so if that interests you feel free to have a look ^^

#thunderbirds are go #john #alan #scott #virgil #the one that isn't catherine lol

I just wanted to say you have a really cool unique art style and I love your work its really nice. I hope to see more in the future :3

Ahh thank you! Sorry for the late reply, I haven't been on tumblr for a while. With new thunderbirds episodes coming out I'll hopefully be posting more art 😊

iworkinretail-myguy

reblog with your wildest public school story

a kid in my class got arrested and expelled for shooting off fireworks in the school parking lot

thirdstreetthunderbirds

didn’t go to a public school, but someone accidentally created chlorine gas in the basement of our science department and it had to be evacuated

my dumbass didn’t realise and ended wandering inside, freaking out the teachers and anyway the building was quarantined for most of the day

#this was a fun day #like 6 classes were in this building #of mine anyway

She missed flying. She missed her VTOL. She missed-

Well, she missed a lot of things. Not to say she couldn’t still fly! And she had her snazzy new ship that Brains had built that could fly faster than anything she’d had before, but still.

She missed being able to fly proper- well, not to say she still couldn’t fly, but-well, it was -ugh! This was just... why was trying to explain this so- god damn it!

She still could. But there was a difference. Like, flying in her new plane? Good. Great, even. Flying with the Thunderbirds and racing Scott in Thunderbird 1? Fuckin’ amazing. But being able to really fly, without the planes, without the assistance of a wingsuit, or a parachute?

That was what she really missed. And yeah, she got it. Zin bad. Humans good. But bloody hell, they had some really cool tech. And the Simulation? When Kinzie first rigged her up, told her all that technical bullshit and then let her loose on the city?

It wasn’t really flying. But it was close enough. Still took her breath away, like the first time she’d skydived over Stillwater, all those years ago. The freefall, the absolute chaos of flinging yourself out of a plane six kilometres up, knowing that if you fucked up, you’d die... and then the silence. Being suspended. Seeing everything, from the city, to the ocean, to the sky stretching off into the universal void... Shit, still took her breath away. Even after landing, she’d been soaring.

It was one hell of a high.

She’d done plenty of falls since that first jump. But... still. Never was the same afterwards, of course. But hell, the adrenaline, the free-fall, the speed, the flight? She lived for that. Lived for the moments where the only thing she could hear was the wind roaring past her and the only thing she could think of was - then! now! Legs swinging out, straps cutting into her shoulders and sides, and the graceful decent onto whichever poor soul had pissed them off that time.

But when she was gliding, falling, racing forwards with no fear of damage, of death... it didn’t lose any part of the charm. If anything, she loved it more. The knowledge that it was her body, that it was her power, her choice- that going as fast as she wanted, as hard as she wanted wouldn’t kill her- shit, that just made her push herself harder. To get faster. To see what crazy shit she could pull off in the next jump, the next fall. And if she flew her plane as high as she dared to try, only to jump out once her wings touched the starry void above, to really live for just a few, crucial minutes- well.

That was private business, wasn’t it?

#This is catherine #it is VERY late #whoops #writing about the saints again!#was channelling my first experience with skydiving #bloody amazing #honestly can't describe the rush #i get motivated at very odd times #bed time now #woop woop #hope you enjoy #the saints #Boots #thunderbirds #mentioned briefly #g'night

She jerked her head in a nod. "Yes, I have travelled to quite a few places in my time. I suppose that was why I was not as concerned about travelling alone. My brother and I decided to travel around before settling at the Forrest. How far have I travelled?" She paused, recollecting her thoughts. "As far north as Port Headland, my father's old town, up the old North Highway. The most easterly point I have reached is the Eastern farmland- and, of course, the most southern point has been Albany."

James whistled, nodding. "As well travelled as me then! I was born up north, as I've said, and I spent a couple years - after the bombs fell - just exploring the desert. A good friend of mine was well versed in surviving off of the land, so he taught me most of what I know. The rest I have learnt on the road." He fell quiet for a moment, poking the fire with a stick at his side before returning to the conversation. "You mainly travel inland then? I usually take the coastal roads. Our North West Coastal Highway is probably the best preserved highway in the north." He paused, trailing off, "...Although parts have gradually fallen into ruin... fucking bandits..." The last part was mumbled, incomprehensible.

She shrugged, glancing at the man again. "It depends on where I am travelling to. I have friends on the southern coast, but, yes, I prefer to travel inland. It feels... safer. It is unusual to run into other travellers."

He nodded, and the two lapsed into a silence that was occasionally disturbed by nearby birdsong. It was... peaceful, surprisingly, and, despite the urge and desperation to continue her quest, she felt almost relaxed. It was almost regretful to break the silence.

"If you don't mind me asking, but where are you travelling to?" She fiddled with one of her belt loops, unused to sitting still, despite the peace. It felt odd. She was so used to doing something, that she began to fiddle and fidget when she actually gained the chance to have a moment to herself.

He quirked a smile, and lent back on his log, almost reclining. "I am heading north. There is a caravan that is supposed to be camping at Toodjay in a few weeks, meeting with the local settlement, and I'm hoping to meet up with it to discuss some details about trading with the settlements south of the city."

"Oh! We're heading in a similar direction then. I was... I was planning on heading north once I reached Pinjarra, but if what you say is true and there is a new bandit group in the region, then I might have to backtrack to skirt around them."

She jumped to her feet again, thankfully not swaying this time, and found her bag, bow and quiver of arrows resting quietly against the patched-up swag. Striding over, she retrieved the old map from one of the outer pockets before returning to her log. "So, Pinjarra is... here-" She pointed to the town on the map. James sidled up to her side before crouching besides her. He pointed at a road on the map that linked Narrogin and Pinjarra. That was where the two of them were, currently. "If I went east, towards Narrogin," following the map with her fingers, she traced the path she had been going to take previously, in which she had planned on cutting through Pinjarra before heading inland again, north-east, towards the town of York, "I could then head north once I hit town, and then eventually, the road would intersect York."

She turned to James, who had been gazing at the map with a pondering look on his face. He raised an eyebrow before pointing to the map and tracing his own path. "I was cutting overland, and was going to travel parallel to the highway, heading north."

"You weren't going to travel on the highway?"

"No. In my experience, that is not the safest - or wisest - option."

She sighed, but nodded. It was the fastest option; not the safest. That had been why she had managed to travel north in such little time - travelling via the Albany Highway had reduced her travelling time by a day. It would have taken her four to five days, with good travelling conditions, to travel from the Forest to York - she was on her third day of travelling, and she still had the rest of the way to go.

This was going to delay her travel, and she had been allowing a couple of extra days for unforeseen circumstances, such as this. All in all, she had planned her trip for around two weeks. She had wanted to get back sooner, with any luck, because her brother was getting worse and she wanted to make sure he had the best chance of survival. Backtracking to Narrogin and then heading north up the Highway would take just over two days of travel.

She had been hoping to find the supplies she needed in Pinjarra, or possibly the lesser dead lands, but none of the old towns they would pass on the way would have the correct medications. She knew this because she and her brother, when travelling through there prior, had searched the towns meticulously for supplies. Everything of use was either taken or destroyed. There was the possibility that the towns south of the city would have supplies, due to their proximity to the dead lands; but, it seemed that she was not the only one who thought this. York was in close proximity to the Hills, which was a settlement that she had visited in years previously; they were friendly towards travellers but had been dying slowly of the radiation illness that had killed so many when the fires had come. It had been a few years since she had last been through the region, but there were no other friendly settlements in the greater Perth area that she could visit.

"You need to get back as soon as possible." Not a question; a statement. She nodded. James sighed, reclining back on his log. "Alright. Since we are heading in the same direction, more or less, it would be safer to travel together. Although I would not normally travel on the Highways, I do understand that they are the fastest way of travelling, and in your case, you need to get to York as soon as possible. Am I correct in assuming that you would use the Highways regardless of me coming with you?" She nodded, again. That was correct. He didn't speak for a minute, deliberating. Then, he looked up. "I'll come with you."

She blinked, dumbfounded. This absolute stranger was willing to travel with her on some of the most dangerous roads in the state. He seemed to notice her surprise - and awe, that was there too - and grinned. "It'll be safer for me, too. And it might be nice travelling with a partner for a change."

"That's- you would-" She laughed and shook her head. "You must be as crazy as me then! Well, alright. When should we leave?"

He smiled, tending to the fire again. "It's late at the moment, and you need your rest, even if it is just a few hours of sleep. Are you happy to leave at dawn?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Good. Now, are we going to take shifts? I've used this area before and it's reasonably safe, but you can never be too cautious."

She nodded, in agreement, and tossed her head towards the swag. "I can take first shift?" At his protests, she raised a hand, as well as an eyebrow. "Yes, I have been unwell. However, you also need sleep, and if we want to make good ground tomorrow, then we both need to be rested." She smiled at the man, who was giving her a rather flat look. "I will wake you up if I feel weak or faint. Happy?"

He sighed, but grumbled, nodding his consent. "At midnight, we switch. Okay?" James lurched to his feet, heading towards his swag. Another show of trust, so soon after meeting?

"Alright. Goodnight then?"

"Yep. Night."

#this is still going on #currently at uni #procrastinating #got to class an hour early #cause i'm an idiot #ah well #got this part done #still not sure where this is going #does anyone even read these??#feedback would be nice #this is catherine

Glancing up to the sky revealed a vast expansion of stars, the milky way shining brightly through the olive-green leaves that were casting shadows across the clearing. Night had fallen. Her companion sent a single glance her way before returning to his fire. It gave her a moment to study the man - or boy? His face looked young, as young as hers, but with a sorrow and weary exhaustion that was most certainly reflected on her own face. He was sitting on a chunk of wood, legs drawn up close around his body. While the fire added a rather unearthly quality to the land around her, it danced across his tanned face, reflecting off of clear, sky blue eyes.

His hair was tied back with a worn hairtie, keeping all but a few wayward dark strands off of his face. The clothes seemed to hang on his frame - not due to illness or malnutrition, but, most likely because they had been stolen. They simply looked too large. An old hunting rifle and cleaning cloth were propped up against a backpack that lay off to the side.

Slowly, she emerged from the swag, looking around as she stood. She wasn't entirely at ease, nor did she trust this unknown stranger, but he had taken the time to pull her from the road and wait until she had woken. That spoke more to her than anything.

"...Greetings." Her words were soft, raspy. Although, that was more from a lack of water than anything else. He inclined his head towards her, acknowledging her presence, but saying nothing else. She sighed, quietly, to herself. Well. "May I ask where we are?"

A grunt and a soft laugh, and the man motioned to a upturned log near him. "How are you feeling?"

That caused her to huff, but she made her way over. She felt weak, shaky; too many days of pushing herself and not enough looking after her own welfare. Collapsing against the log, she scrubbed her face with the palm of her left hand. "Like utter shit, if you'll excuse my language."

The man let out a roar of a laugh at that, and it seemed to rattle around inside his chest before bursting out. "Such proper speech! No, don't excuse yourself," He waved a hand around absentmindedly, "I swear far too much myself, regardless."

She laughed a little then, relaxing more against the log. "How long have I been unconscious for?"

"Just a couple of hours. But that begs the question." He turned more fully towards her, fixing her with an intense, clear gaze, scrutinising. "What were you doing, overland? Alone, as well! Haven't you heard the news?"

She blinked, confused, before shaking her head. The man raised an eyebrow before continuing on. "I suppose you haven't then. There's a new band of raiders. They've made their camp, just east of Pinjarra. The hills are infested with them, and they've begun their way south. I've heard that their leader has their eye on taking over the Southern Forrests."

That made her shoot to her feet, before wobbling alarmingly. "I- I have to go back!" She whipped her head around to look at the man, who was looking rather concerned, with drawn brows and narrowed eyes. "Do you know how far south they've gotten? I've travelled all this way without encountering anyone- well, anyone asides from now."

"Sit."

"What? I have-"

"Please sit. You've been unconscious for a fair few hours now; what good can you do, like this? Sit, and I'll tell you what I know."

With a pained, labouring sigh, she brought herself back down to her seat. The man nodded, to himself, once, before continuing. "Now, I'm taking it that you hail from the Forrests?"

She paused, before nodding once. "I'm... from the city. But yes. My brother and I hail from the Forrests. The Jarrah Forrest, along the Blackwood river. That's... well..." Burying her head in her hands, she fought against the rising heat behind her eyes and in her throat. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she chanced a look upwards at the man, who's eyes were softening. But there was also an underlying edge of confusion.

"Which city, if I might ask?"

She quirked a brow. "The city?"

The man's eyes widened as he stared. It took a moment before he spoke again, but this time, it was with great awe. "It had been some time since I've met one of your kind. I thought that all city dwellers were long gone."

"What on earth are you talking about? My 'kind?' As far as I am concerned, we are all human, and therefore, all equal."

He held out a hand, placating. "I apologise. I meant no offence. Most travellers I meet nowadays are from the northern deserts, the east country or the southern forests. There are quite a few rumours about people who lived in the city," He laughed, turning his eyes skywards, "I am not too sure about how true these rumours are, but they still fill me with awe." He shook his head. "Please, take no notice of me. Now. The bandits. From what I have heard from my friends down by the coast, the bandits have reached the old Margret River, and are heading for the Forrests from there."

There... there was no time. She was too far north. She would never be able to reach the settlement in time.

A firm hand patted her shoulder, in empathy. "Don't give up hope. Word travels slower nowadays than what it once did, but I am sure that your settlement will catch wind of what is happening before they reach your home. If you don't mind me asking, but which overland path did you travel by? It must have been a fair bit inland if you didn't meet any travellers on the road."

"I... I came through the old Albany Highway, but I cut through Narrogin. There's nothing there now, but I have a few friends that live out that way on their farms. I needed more supplies. I was just heading towards York... but I suppose I'm not going to make it now. I'll have to cut through the lesser dead lands."

That was met with silence. And a look of, honestly warranted, shock. The city of Perth was most often called "The Dead Lands," and were split into different regions. The 'lesser' dead lands was often used to refer to the southern lands, while 'larger' was normally used to refer to the northern lands. Minor and major were also used, but the terms had become less commonly used in recent years. The 'city dead lands' referred to the hulking shell of the city itself, and was where the most danger was concentrated. She was not planning on entering the city itself; only the outskirts. Even the edge of the once sprawling city was dangerous enough to deter most scavengers; not to say that nobody had tried. Far too many had died.

It took nearly three, long minutes before the man had gathered himself together enough to speak. "You..." He sighed, shaking his head. "You must have a very good reason for cutting through the lesser dead lands. Do... you mind if I ask why?"

It was her turn to be silent, after that. What good would it do, refusing to tell the man? He had offered her more help within the past few hours than she had received from strangers in the past year. Fighting to keep her voice steady, she fixed her view on the crackling, merry fire. "My brother is dying. The healer- an old aged-care carer - believes that he had something bacterial. She's quarantined him, which I understand, but she's wrong in her assessment. She's stubborn, and won't listen to me. I'm trying to find some anti-viral medications. It's... it's my brother's only hope."

The man winced, reaching out to brush his fingers against her shoulder. "That sounds like a shit situation, if you don't mind my language."

That wrought a wretched laugh from her that quickly turned into a sob. "That's certainly one word for it."

"I'm assuming that you are a healer yourself? You seem confident in your assessment of your brother's illness."

Waving a hand and snorting, she turned back to the man. "We do have some limited supplies back at the Forrest; it's just, the healer treating my brother believes that he has cholera, and we'd already exhausted our supply of antibiotics. It is... unusual for such a disease to be in the South - we do have reasonably good hygiene standards and waste disposal - but," she gave a jagged, almost broken laugh, "can someone really expect the old conventions to apply? Our world has already changed so much in such a short amount of time; who are we to say that other things haven't changed also? But no. I don't believe he has cholera. The camp would be overrun otherwise."

He fixed her with a intense, searching gaze before giving a short laugh. "You seem to be fairly knowledgeable for someone so young. That'll serve you well." He raised a brow at her incredulous gaze, before laughing again. "Come, don't take offence! It was a compliment."

She snorted, a rather ungangly sound, before flicking her eye back to the fire, melancholic. "You seem quite young yourself."

"I'd imagine that we are close to the same age, yes. I may be a bit older, though, but it is hard to tell nowadays." He smiled, again. "I am nineteen."

Her eyes did shoot upwards at that. He was older than her, yes, but still so young! He laughed, loudly then, at her surprise. "Did you think I was older? Well, I told you my age. How old are you, if I might ask?"

"...I'm sixteen; seventeen in winter." Now it was his turn to look surprised. "And you decided to travel overland by yourself?" His look turned sheepish at her flat glare. "My apologies. That was inconsiderate."

She sighed, shaking her head. "No, don't apologise. I'm worried. And tired. And stressed."

"I suppose that is fair." They both trailed off into silence before he burst into that loud, roaring laughter again, startling her from her log. "How ill mannered of me! We've been talking this long, and I haven't offered my name." Turning to her, he offered a dirt-caked hand, covered in scars and grime. "I am James, of the Northern Gibson Desert. I am a mechanic by trade, but I also help in hunting, retrievals and other odd jobs when needed."

(It was common, or, at least, becoming more common, to introduce oneself by stating their name and place they hailed from.)

She shook James' hand in greeting, quirking a smile at his laugh. It was infectious. "I didn't offer my name either. I am Catherine, of the Jarrah Forrest. I am a healer by trade, although I work in infrastructure and other areas from time to time." She paused for a moment as his words registered. "The Northern Gibson Desert?! What on earth are you doing this far down south?"

The laugh reappeared. "Do all travellers sound this surprised? Yes, that is where I hail from. My settlement is just south of the old town of Nallagine, although I doubt that you have heard of it." He smirked at the shake of her head. "Yes, most haven't. I was hoping to talk to the leaders of the Hills and the Eastern Farms in the hopes of establishing a trade route with some of the settlements in the north. My settlement is rather small, and I was the only person with the necessary skills to survive the trip. Then, I heard of the problems that bandits were causing, and I thought I would stay a while and see what I could do to help." He motioned to his pack, sitting forlornly off to the side. "I have spent the better part of three months couriering letters between settlements, and helping better their defences amongst other things. The attacks have been getting worse."

"I had not heard of it being so bad." She shook her head, sighing sadly. "That being said; bandits have always been a problem in the south, and we have not been in communication with the other settlements for a number of months. Oh, don't look so surprised! People are scared to travel, and most settlements are self sufficient; we haven't had a need to communicate. I have the most experience in my settlement in travelling asides from my brother - and I'm sixteen!" She gave a disgruntled huff, glaring into the fire. It was idiotic, how her settlement leaders refused to teach people the skills to survive in their world. What if they were displaced? What then?

"You are well travelled, then?"

She jerked her head in a nod. "Yes, I have travelled to quite a few places in my time. I suppose that was why I was not as concerned about travelling alone. My brother and I decided to travel around before settling at the Forrest. How far have I travelled?" She mused to herself, recollecting her thoughts. "As far north as Port Headland, my father's old town, up the old Great Northern Highway. The most easterly point I have reached is the Eastern farmlands near Kalgoolie- and, of course, the most southern point has been Albany."

#oh wow #long post #this is catherine #got struck with the urge to write again #at least to finish this convo #still haven't finished it ^^"#oh well #it's late and i need sleep #woop woop #enjoy

She appeared young; a child just shy of adulthood. It was her appearance that deceived most people, as her young, clear face was unmarked by the troubles and horrors that plagued the lands that she walked. In fact, most wondered and called her lucky; she was untouched, untroubled. They were more wrong than they were aware, she was, in fact, older than most of the people that she encountered, although this was not that hard a feat. The land had been ravaged, war-torn. There was only a few that she had encountered that could remember the time before the war, and even then, they were slowly dying out as the years passed. Most remembered nothing but war, the weary, poverty-stricken world that consumed their entire existence.

Maybe she was lucky, then. She had been born before the war, before the struggles; she was a little over three hundred years, although she was not sure of her exact years as it was hard to keep an accurate record of the years that had passed. She tried, valiantly, but even then, years had passed in a haze, a darkness as she struggled to acclimatise to her new existence. It had taken her a great many years to accept that she was going to appear as a young child for probably the rest of her life, but she had gotten there. Slowly, and with much rage, but eventually with a weary resignation. It was at that point that she had dedicated her life into helping rebuild the scattered and broken populations across the land; it was not her country, not any more. Those barriers had been forsaken a number of years ago, just as the fires came and her people fell to sickness. She was just a child. A child! Maybe she was lucky that she had been so young, as she could barely remember what her life had been like Before; she always called it that, in her mind - Before, symbolising everything that she had been and would never be again. Innocent, hopeful. Well, she could still be hopeful, have faith in the communities that scattered the land like leaves on the eastern, ocean breeze. Of course, there were dangers in the new world, but she had grown adept at navigating them- a necessary evil, unfortunately.

Oh, dear. Her thoughts were often abstract and rambling, and flowed from one thought to another like one of the old rivers that had long become stagnant and dead. Hm. Maybe not a good analogy then. So. She had been born before the fires had come, and had been just a child; thirteen, fourteen years old, she wasn't entirely sure. Her memories were remarkably clear, for someone of her age, but she did tend to forget things, get muddled from time to time. Her brother - a twin, a rarity, even in the age of prosperity - had grabbed her and run. He was more world weary than she was, although perhaps they were the wrong word for it; he simply had more experience at surviving than she did. She often heard of his exploits, of his friends and him running through the streets, staying awake until the dawn came and it was time to return home; it was not time to remember those tales, although this experience saved their lives, despite their young ages. Although her brother made sure that they had food, had shelter, she made sure that they stayed healthy, and free of sickness. They were both remarkably bright for their ages, but specialised in different areas. He was street smart and world-weary; she was knowledgeable of all manners of things, from what foods were needed to keep from malnutrition, from how to build water filtration devices that made sure that they had fresh water to drink. There were other things that they were both knowledgeable on, but they worked together to survive. And for a time, it worked.

The world was more dangerous in those days. It was still dangerous now, obviously; to say that there was no danger in the world was naivete, ignorant and was likely to result in a quick death. There were certain areas of the lands that were inaccessible and would kill you with a slow, creeping warmth that pervaded your very bones and eventually dragged you down to the ground to sleep and die; if you survived the sleep, you were left with a weak and frail body. She had, in recent years - although the sickness she was describing had lessened over the centuries, old books she had read had confirmed her suspicions; the cause of the illness would never truly leave - seen the telltale burns that stretched over backs and arms; although, these were more found on prospectors who had ignored her warnings and had ventured into the dead lands.

Casting her mind back again, come now! Focus. Yes, the invisible cause of the rampant sickness was a constant worry on her mind. But, there were other, more tangible worries that her brother and she had to worry about - the city. The world that she had lived in, centuries ago, would be unrecognisable to most people; not, to say, that there were many people who were there before the fires! Her brother had died, a great many years ago. And, as far as she was aware, she was the only person who was afflicted with this... unageing. But none of that now. The city. Her country had been one of the greatest in the world - the biased view of a child? Perhaps. But, she was extremely fond of her country and her land. While isolated, she loved it with all her heart; it defined her, helped her grow. Alas, even her small city had not escaped the fires that ravaged the world that day. She did not want to remember, even now, and as the years had passed, she gradually came to terms with her history, her trauma. Still, it hurt, a dull ache that lingered in her chest despite the years gone by. It would probably never fade. She had seen her home, her city burned to ash, and there was nothing but the dead lands that blanketed the fallen tomb-like shells of the old buildings. Well, she may as well call them tombs! Enough people had died there. It was a stroke of luck that had saved her life that day- she and her family had been visiting friends south of the city, two days of travel. You could travel longer and further in those days, so when the fires came, she was sheltered in the cool, emerald green forests of the south. Her family, too, and they had survived the sickness that had spread across her lands in the resultant weeks. She could still remember the dull, hazy glow on the horizon - not her city, but another major town. There was only one city in her state, with the rest of the land being populated by small towns. They were spared most of the wrath, the fires; most was directed towards the east, across the great desert, the great divide. She did not know if anyone had survived over there; it was certainly possible, but she had not been over east in a number of years - not since Before. It had also been a great many years before she had seen the city that she had once called her home again; her parents had fractured, split, and had died apart. It was she and her brother that had made the trip - alone, mind you; none of the people they had come to call friends could be persuaded to travel north. It had been a long, tiresome journey. Her land was not known for being welcoming, and even two children who had grown up playing in the fearsome heat and dancing in the destructive storms that ravaged the coasts found the trip troubling and difficult. Food was scarce and water was often polluted and undrinkable. It had taken them nearly a week of walking to reach the outskirts of the dead zone, and at which point, they had travelled east; there was no point entering such a desolate place, and would have just lead to death. The hills were of more comfort; there was a settlement! A small one, with only a handful of souls, but they were welcomed none the less. It had been nearly three years since the fires, and these people were clinging to life; stubbornly, and with great tenacity, as only their people could. There was sickness, however. The dead zone had started to invade the lives of the people, polluting their bodies and the land on which they lived.

She did the best, she really did, to help them. But there was also people there, people more experienced than her at healing, who could do nothing for the dying. Their focus had been turned to the living, to their remaining people - it was hard enough to survive without wasting supplies on the sick. She understood their rationale. She did. But how was it fair to leave the sick and dying without giving them a chance?

But she was young. And, although she had become a fair healer in recent years, this was beyond her skills.

So they moved on. At her urging, mind you, but the pair had remained there for nearly two months. Not long enough to get sick, but at this point, she was unaware of her ability, her growth. That would come later, not for many years, when she had begun to wonder at her brother's ageing face, and her own, unchanging one. But yes, later.

It was how they spent their next few years; wandering. They covered most of what had been their land, from the storm ravaged coasts to the north, to the almost untouched farms of the east, and the edge of the desert beyond - and, of course, the emerald green forests to the south. They had remained largely unchanged in recent years, having been well away from the fires of earlier years. She was thankful for that, honestly. The south was, in her opinion, the most safe region of her land, although the boarders that was marked by the old, great highways were never safe, regardless of where you travelled. Bandits and pirates often used them as ways to travel great distances, and travellers on these paths never fared well. So, as such, her brother and her travelled overland. While the road was hard, and there were ever present dangers, it was less risky than the more well maintained highways.

It also wasn't uncommon to meet other travellers on the road; although it was often hard to tell whether these people meant well, or were possibly looking for a new target. It was hard to trust people, in this new world. Although, every so often, kindness was shown. She really did her best to be kind to people, but as the years wore on, and the constant disappointments hung over her mind, she gradually became more and more suspicious.

That being said, some of her fondest memories of travelling were meeting other, weary travellers on the overland roads and sharing food, news and a little bit of comfort. She could recall one time that she had been travelling north in a great haste - her brother had fallen ill with a disease that caused great rashes to erupt on his body and had come down with a great fever. Even with the best treatment she could give, he was fading - so she had made the decision to travel north to the city dead zone. It was dangerous, and reckless, but what other options did she have? Her brother was dying, and even under strict quarantine, there was every possibility that the illness could spread to the camp. She believed that she had identified the correct disease, based on the patterns of his rash, the fever and his watery excrement, and had explicitly told the head healer in their settlement that the medications being given would not help. The paracetamol would, for fever, but it was a viral infection, and would need antivirals to help combat the illness.

She had pushed herself too hard, too fast. Nearly three quarters of the journey had been travelled before she collapsed by the side of the road, too exhausted, too hungry to carry on. She had nearly thought that her time had indeed come, when she had woken in a swag so patched with fabric that she couldn’t tell the original colour of the material. Opening her temporary shelter had revealed a man, possibly around her age - although, it was hard to tell sometimes, people always looked older, more worn than their true age - poking a stick at a small fire.

She bit back a warning, the urge to scold him for such a reckless action - a fire! With the land so overgrown and dry, a stray spark would cause a raging bushfire that would likely never end. She could still remember a number of fires in her youth, plus numerous ones that had happened After. But, she paused. This place... a way-point, of sorts. While she had been all over, she still had much to learn about the secret hideyholes and ways of her new land, it seemed. She was lying in the desolated remains of an old campground, the shells of burnt out cars marking the borders. There was a low, flat area that had been recently swept and covered with sand, and the small fire was burning in a circle of carefully placed rocks, which was, of course, being tended by her mysterious saviour. While the old gumtrees surrounded their camp and kept them mostly hidden from view, the highest reaching leaves had been clipped back - at least around the camp. The undergrowth had also been cleared, and there appeared to be a small, barren shack hiding in the shadows of the foliage. This was a well travelled and well used camp, and the care was obvious.

Glancing up to the sky revealed a vast expansion of stars, the milky way shining brightly through the olive-green leaves that were casting shadows across the clearing. Night had fallen.

#Was using a program called fighters block #and was also reading the hobbit #felt like writing something fantasy-ish #but modern?#also post apocalyptic #cause i'm me #well enjoy #i'm gonna go eat #this is catherine

Shit. Shit shit shit! What the fuck was she doing? The cacophonous sounds of heavy, steel caps thundered behind her as she took off down the alleyway. It was dark, the greasy, dirt caked floors giving her little grip on her worn down runners. Barely illuminated, the moon was currently hidden behind a thick curtain of grey, angry clouds that caused a stifling humidity to hang in the air.

It was hot. And was going to storm. Soon.

Actually, that might be her best chance. Maybe her only chance?

She didn’t know what would happen when the men chasing her would catch her. No. Not would. She could get away from this. She’d survived worse. Come on!

Her legs were burning, as was her chest. Her lungs heaved in and out as she struggled to catch her breath as she pelted through the alleyway. This was a shortcut. She knew these streets like the back of her hand. About a hundred meters, a right turn, a jump over the steel, chain linked fence with barbed wire on the top (which only she knew how to circumvent; she’d come through here before. Not for a while, granted, but still. She was desperate.) Even so, it seemed like the pack behind her weren’t lessening up. Their pace was steady, relentless. She could run - sprint, even - for a long time, but when the men had tried to drag her into their waiting, inconspicuous looking sedan (which, now she thought about it, had seemed odd; who parked a nice sedan in this neighbourhood? It’d be looted before sunrise,) she’d bolted. She’d panicked. And now she was going to die because of it.

She was at the corner. Lashing out with her right hand, she hooked a curled fist around a convenient pole that allowed her to fling her weight around the corner without any regards for her speed. She wasn’t slowing down. She couldn’t.

Another couple of meters. More burning in her legs. She was going to collapse soon. Jump! Come on! Hooking the soft tip of her shoe into the brick wall, she latched onto the fence with her right hand, her left scrabbling for purchase on the grotty wall. A brick sticking out, missing, anything - or else she’d slip. Digging her nails into the wall, she felt the mortar give slightly under her weight, made weaker by the hanging moisture in the air. Hey, whatever worked, right? It gave her enough grip to kick up and off the wall, vaulting high enough to clear the low part of the rusty, barbed wire that lined the top of the fence. The alley was backed up onto private land, and if she could get some distance between her and her late night companions, she might be able to escape. She didn’t know what they’d do to her when - no, if! - they caught her. She’d seen their badges, their tattoos. Not cops, no.

The Saints were one of the most notorious gangs in the city, and now they were coming after her. She wasn’t sure why.

No, that wasn’t correct. She had a feeling she knew why. She’d had dealings with the underground crime world before; nothing too bad, just helping a couple of people that had been shot up on the street. Maybe two, three weeks ago? She worked shift, so everything tended to blur together after a while. They’d been wearing blue. Another gang, perhaps? She honestly didn’t care much for crime, not when she’d seen three people gunned down in broad daylight in a driveby that had left two people dead and the last one in a critical condition in the local hospital. She’d managed to save his life, but his injuries hadn’t been as severe. A call had to be made. The one most likely to survive, chosen. And she’d saved his life. But she’d been stupid to assume that helping a rival gang on the edge of disputed territory wouldn’t have gotten back to the Saints. And now she was paying for it, having to run for her life.

But. Did they want to kill her? They could’ve just shot her down like those other men. But they hadn’t. So... maybe they wanted her alive?

She wasn’t sure what was more terrifying.

A flash of lightning, so severe that it seemed to carve the sky in half, struck somewhere in the distance. Not too far, because - BOOM -

Holy shit, that thunder was loud!

And had followed almost instantaneously after the lightning strike. Which meant that the storm was almost on top of them.

She was streaking across the abandoned parking lot now, some fancy private parking lot for the big wigs that worked at the company that owned this land. It didn’t matter - CRACK!

A gunshot split the heavy air like a whip, and she threw herself forward instinctively, attempting to protect her head and torso. It also meant that she collided heavily with the pavement, scraping her arms painfully. She was up again within a second, arms and legs protesting, but the adrenaline pushing her on. Had that been a warning shot? Or had they missed because of the darkness, which coiled around them like a veil, hiding both them and her in its’ embrace? She was wearing all black; it was certainly possible. Or maybe it was because the storm had finally decided to release its downpour to the earth, soaking everyone in the vicinity. Anyone could miss a shot in this weather.

The lightning turned the sky purple as it struck again, causing the area to smell vaguely of ozone and burning. Shit. She needed to go. It was the distraction she needed though, as she came across an embankment that formed a natural - or maybe manmade, she really didn’t give a shit at the moment - barrier on the edge of the car park. It was getting treacherous, the dirt beneath her shoes turning slippery and dangerous beneath her. One wrong move and she’d break her ankle. Or snap her neck. Either one. She wasn’t sure which she preferred.

Death now, or death later? So many choices.

She gave a jagged, frantic laugh as she slid down in the mud, arms outstretched for balance. It wasn’t too deep, and if she made it to the bottom, she might be able to hide in a storm drain, or conceal herself within the thick, congealing mud at the bottom of the ditch.

She got to the bottom with a slight splash, fingers digging into the soft earth for balance as she cast her gaze around frantically. The shadows were looming, tall and obscuring her sight. It was so dark that she could only make out vague shapes in the darkness that seemed to reach out to touch; to consume. But then she shook her head. That was the fear, the adrenaline. And she still needed to run.

Easier said than done. The mud was thick, viscous; threatening to take her shoes with every step. She was tempted to just ditch them and to try climb up the other side of the embankment - it wasn’t too tall, but with the rain currently lashing at her face and arms, the area was quickly turning into a muddy, dangerous quagmire. She’d never be able to climb out of here. She’d fall back down before she could manage.

Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky, and she glanced up quickly, frantically. Thankfully, no figures appeared at the top of her current cover, (cover being used only in the widest terms - she currently felt like she was drowning with the amount of rain she was being hit by and she was now standing in nearly twenty centimetres of muddy, brown sludge. Still, she couldn’t see them, and they couldn’t see her, so it counted.) and the brief flash of light illuminated, just for a second, a dark, metal structure sticking out of the side of the muddy wall. A storm drain! She scrambled forwards, using her hands, her aching legs, anything to get her closer to her goal. She was tired, she was wet, she was scared. She also didn’t want to get eaten by a killer, shape-shifting clown. No. Bad brain! She really needed to stop reading Steven King books. Or maybe she just needed to get her brain in fucking gear and to not think of weird shit when she was currently running for her life.

The storm drain was tiny. Also rusty. But she could worry about that later - hadn’t she had her shots already? Her scraped palm grazed against one of the rusty walls; yay, tetanus - and what the fuck was she going on about? This was crazy! Or maybe she was. Certainly possible.

Regardless of her current train of thought, she folded her body into the hollow opening. It was a tight fit- she was fairly lanky, all legs and arms - but she made it work. Somehow. Probably the adrenaline. She was out of the rain, thank fuck. She was still soaking, still terrified - she couldn’t hear a thing over the pounding rain, bloody cacophony, holy shit - so who knew where those men were. Maybe ladies too? She hadn’t really gotten a good look at her attackers.

Settling down against the corrugated iron wall, she banged her head against the metal wall with a curse. What the honest to god fuck was her life? Running for her life through an abandoned car park at some fucking hour of the night, hiding in a (hopefully hidden) storm drain, abrasions and bruises all over her arms and a dried, bloody nose from where she’d been punched?

She’d saved one life. Just one! And apparently, it meant an attempt on hers! Groaning, she winced, pawing at her face. Swollen. Hot. Probably broken. Fucking great.

But it meant she was alive. And not dead. Well. That was the same thing, she supposed. But she wasn’t going to wax philosophical while hiding in a storm drain.

The rain outside was a constant roar against her temporary shelter. It was both comforting, as well as a pain in the ass. It meant that she was (hopefully!) well hidden from the men (or women) chasing her, but she was also trapped. She could always try to move, keep going, but she was so tired. Her legs hurt from running, her arms hurt from the abrasions that were currently scabbing up, and her nose hurt from the possible break. This was so shit. She wanted to cry. And scream. Honestly, with the rain, she probably could. But she also wanted to sleep and wake up in her bed, alarm clock blaring up for work. She wanted to be warm, not cold and muddy, stuck in a cramped storm drain with her clothes starting to stick and chafe.

She did cry then, just small, tiny sobs that came of their own volition. Maybe if she fell asleep, she’d wake up somewhere else. Hah. What a cliche.

It didn’t stop her from hoping.

#Woot woot #i am alive!#i wrote this in the international joburg airport #had like a six hour layover #this is catherine #this was a lot longer than i thought #The Saints #the language is pretty intense #sorry #anyway #hope you enjoy!#so feckin tired #oh wow

Perth gothic

I saw all this regional gothic stuff when out and about, so I figured I’d have a shot at writing it about Perth and WA, mixed with a little bit of first aid nonsense.

We are called the Cinderella state by the others. There is no mention of us when we are in the East. Do we exist? The flights are empty. No-one is here. Fame passes us by, ignoring our cities. Are we forgotten, or just ignored; it is hard to know.

The footy season is on. It is always on. It never stops. Most times, it is just purple, yellow and blue; people ask what team you support. They don’t recognises the teams from the east. They never do.

The train station is lively at night. It is the footy grand final. The train is delayed. It will be here soon. You are wearing your uniform. A girl who supports the dockers is wearing a collingwood scarf to annoy her friends. She sits next to you. You talk. You never see her again.

The royal show is on. The week stretches on. When did the show start? You can’t remember. There is always a pregnant lady ready to give birth, according to the first aiders on duty. You hear this every year. You never see her. One of the officers is joking around. He says the q word. You never say the q word. The shift never ends. We are still waiting to be stood down.

The new hospitals are being built. The new children’s hospital is being built. The building is ongoing. Problems are never-ending. The government is enraged. A new government is brought in. They are still enraged. It never ends.

You wear the same uniform as the paramedics. People always assume you are. They never ask, even though you tell them. I’m a volunteer. They never listen. Your partner laughs. They say the q word. They are still on shift.

Children are either terrified or amazed. There is no in-between. The terrified ones are emboldened by their friends. Do they have the courage to ask to see our ambulance? Some do. These ones don’t.

You always feel alone at Central Hub. The garage is cavernous. Darkness stretches out. Can you leave? There are footsteps; echoes. They are not your own. You reach the door. You leave. You are not followed.

The music vibrates in your chest. It is loud, chaotic. There is a festival on. You are in the middle of it. There are kites flying in the wind. Another child has been lost. You can’t hear your partner. The music has stolen their voice.

The library is always full. It never empties. There is screaming. No-one is surprised. No-one looks. We are all consumed in our work. It is late. The spot you just left is automatically filled. You didn’t see the person approach. You never do. Where are they coming from? No-one is wandering. The seats are always taken. You put it out of your mind. You go.

#Honestly have no idea what this is #pretty sure it's old #oh well #gotta love old memes #regional gothic #i'm an ambulance volunteer so that's where all the first aid is from #this is catherine #yay #why do i always write this late?#rip me #and my sleep schedule

writing-prompt-s

You are on the country road that will take you home, but you are not going to West Virginia.

thirdstreetthunderbirds

There was a lot of country in Australia. Most people, when asked, think of the dry, barren outback, with hardy, tough plants and animals that looked like nothing else on Earth. There was a lot of country in Australia, stretching more than three thousand kilometres across the landscape, and yes, a lot of that is bush. Desert. What most called the Outback. The country that I know? The one that most people know, the one plagued by droughts, bush fires, cyclones. Yes, I think of that, for sure. It’s a fact of life. A harsh one, but a fact all the same. This is our place, our heritage.

But that country isn’t the one I think of when I think of home. The roads that wind through my country like drunken spiderwebs, slashing through the dull greens and browns of the summer-ravaged landscape before melting into the jewel-like vivacity of the jarrah and karri trees down south? That is home. The stark contrast between the harsh, aggressive summer that seems to leach life out of almost everything it touches, and the sprawling, dense, but cool forests that have so much history and so much life? That is home.

The flat, almost desolate sand dunes of the north, leading into the sunshine yellow of the canola fields that appear in a harsh contrast to the windswept, dead trees that perch like watchmen at the edge of their territory? That is home. Travelling for hours, even days, and not meeting a single soul, before being sprung into a tiny but bustling town that emerges gradually over the horizon, their houses lighting the way like beacons, or looking like stars against the pitch black darkness of the ocean coast?

That is home.

#well #not sure what happened there #I wanted to try write something descriptive #for once at least #eh #short and sweet #this is catherine #trying to get out of a writing block #so bear with me

#em #saints row #thunderbirds are go #fuse #that moment when you wake up naked somewhere and you don't how you got there or where you are #for some reason that's what this feels like

writing-prompt-s

As humanity’s technology advances, we move further and further away from having to use iron, until it is eventually completely phased out of use. Although now that humanity no longer uses iron, fairies have finally come out of hiding, marveling at all the amazing things humans have built in their absence. You are the captain of a cargo starship, and you have just discovered one such awe-stricken fairy stowaway on your starship.

thirdstreetthunderbirds

The Lightbringer.

A huge, hulking starship, fitted to carry hundreds of men and women, slowly chugging away to the edge of their explored universe, in search of new possibilities.

Somehow, she’d found herself on this massive thing, nearly six or seven light years away from the Earth. The woman couldn’t even begin to comprehend how they’d travelled this distance in such a short amount of time - a couple months, give or take. She was a nurse, not a physicist. Anyway, yes. Nurse. They’d needed crew members, people of all walks of life, in order to run their massive home. Or, to at least maintain it until they managed to they managed to reach their destination; an Earth-like planet a couple hundred light years away that the scientists back home had determined could support life.

It was crazy. They’d needed workers. And they’d needed people like her. But, in all her years, she’d never expected herself to be looking at a small, impish creature that seemed extremely out of place in her sterile, white medbay. A tiny human? No, not a child. It looked someone had taken a human adult and shrunk them, while also attaching delicate, wispy wings to their shoulder blades. They appeared female, with eyes that were just a tad too large in the small face, with ears that extended just a little bit further than a normal person’s. Also, maybe a trick of the light, but it seemed like, with every slight movement, the air shimmered like a mirage, with plumes of light dancing off of the creature every second or so. It was captivating, but also slightly concerning.

She’d been called to her medbay at some ungodly hour of the morning by some of the crew, who had radioed her sounding extremely panicked. After getting over her initial shock - she’d address her other emotions later, focus! - the nurse had managed to pry the story from the crewmembers that had brought the creature to her medbay. They’d found the - what was it exactly? Fairy? Fae? Were those the same things?

It was too early for this.

How on Earth was she supposed to address this!? Yeah, she’d heard stories of the mythical creatures being sighted more and more over the past half century or so - it correlated directly with the decline of the use of iron and steel in the human society and the rapid advancement of human technology. But a human spaceship? Nearly seven lights years away from Earth? What the hell were they going to do about this?!

Alright, calm down. Breathe.

Anyway, the crew had found the fairy one of the lower levels of the ship - one of the levels that only had to be checked every three or four weeks since it carried stock that wasn’t essential to their trip, but would be needed once they got to their new planet. They’d found the small creature holed up in one of the storage containers, having made a sort of nest-home thing that had appeared a few months old. The fairy had been unconscious, with a massive jagged burn reaching up from their left wrist to their left shoulder bone. So, for some godforsaken reason the crew that had found the creature had decided to bring the thing to her. As if she’d know what to do with a bloody fairy! She was a human nurse, not a fairy nurse!

This was giving her a migraine.

The creature was awake now, but had yet to say anything, curled up on the far end of the bunk they’d been placed on. Well, she could kind of see why; after spending months in the underbelly of the ship, the bright white environment must be terrifying. And the group of large humans staring unashamedly. That probably didn’t help either.

Actually, on closer inspection, the wound didn’t really seem like a burn. Well, it sort of did - the woman moved closer to the bed to get a better look, prompting the fairy to flinch backwards, further into the headrest. Oops.

Holding her hands out, hopefully in a gesture of reassurance, the nurse crouched down to the ground to get at the same eye level as the creature. It worked with some people to calm them down, getting on their level; who’s to say it couldn’t work on fairies?

Inching closer, the creature seemed to hold her suspiciously with their gaze but didn’t move any further back. Well, she could work with that. Turning her attention back to the injury, she gave it a quick inspection from her crouch on the floor. It was odd. She’d thought it’d been a burn, and part of it looked angry and red to the touch, disappearing beneath the fairy’s semi-translucent clothes. Possibly an infection? It looked partially healed, but patches of the injury looked like it had been reopened and clumsily been put back together, leading to an angry mottled look in parts. The redness seemed to radiate outwards from the injury, which made the nurse worry. It seemed like the underlying tissue had become infected and was refusing to heal.

What was she going to do? She didn’t know if fairies healed like humans, or even if they got injured the same. But, she could try clean and bandage the wound. At least it would help provide some relief to the creature. The injury looked pretty painful.

Getting one of the crew in the room to grab a dressing pack for her, the nurse approached the fairy again, slowly. It watched her warily, fluttering their wing delicately; maybe as a warning? Regardless, she inched closer, and when she felt like she was close enough to the creature to reach it comfortably, but also have enough space to retreat if needed, she began unwrapping her dressing pack. It was a simple piece of equipment, equipped with a couple of steel forceps, gauze, saline and a piece of plastic that could be placed under the patient. She had barely picked up the forceps when the creature hissed violently, flashing tiny canines in a threat display that had the nurse scrambling backwards, heart thudding. What on Earth?!

The creature snarled, eyes fixed on the woman, who just felt extremely bewildered. What had she done? She’d unwrapped the dressing pack, picked up the forceps -

With a reflexive jerk, the woman tossed the forceps away from them, hearing them land and skid underneath a bed on the other side of the room. The fairy, although still hissing slightly, had stopped flashing their canines. The nurse almost groaned. How was she that stupid? Of course she’d heard the old wives tale that iron hurt fairies, and you had to carry it to protect yourself from the creatures. Iron had mainly been made redundant in human society, except for certain objects - like the carbon steel forceps she had just flung across the room. Steel was made from iron!

She wanted to swear, and loudly. The creature didn’t look as if they would let her approach them again, and was glancing suspiciously at the other humans in the medbay. Motioning to one of the crew members, she quickly sent them off to go get the Captain. They’d need all the help they could get.