#and today i found three (3!) wasps in my house

[ace-trainer-risu]

really relating to Harrow the Ninth today b/c um I have a wasp in my house. and. I don't like it.

#the wasps have built a nest next to my front door. not great. #but you know what at first they were being very civil about it! #we had an understanding. they left me alone and i tried to not slam the door. #but they must have heard me tell the HOA about the nest and now they have declared war #and today i found three (3!) wasps in my house #admittedly two were dead #but the third! is not! #my. very great fear. is that they have invaded the attic and are flying down into the vents. #hngngng #and i don't HAVE a sword!! #hopefully~ the HOA is going to get on this quickly~ b/c i dONT LIKE IT #i have managed to put the living one in jail so we are okay for now #but if they are in the attic then. that's. bad. #things you didn't care to know about veronica #this is JUST like harrow the ninth #but not in a way i like

[spartanblacksmith]

The Battle of the Pirate Galleon

Stellaris Story.

Captain's log, Star-date: September 22, 2301

Location: Erak System

The blasted thing wouldn't die.

We hit it with munitions the size of a bus.

Our fighters have been dogfighting for days with the pirates.

We've lost 3 destroyers and 5 corvettes.

Our 2 artillery cruisers are battering the beast while the other 2 line cruisers stand with the rest of the fleet of 7 destroyers and 9 corvettes to battle it and the Old Veterans in close combat.

Admiral Donner and Admiral Reginald are nowhere to be seen, as well as their fleets.

But Admiral Sera and the Torque fleet is nowhere near finished. How we get here, well...

When humanity took to the stars, we were ecstatic, thrilled about what lay beyond. We were young and naive, unknowingly walking into a dangerous universe.

We had just colonized our third planet in the Charlie system when they attacked.

The Young Bloods. A pirate fleet filled with corvettes. They attacked Charlie planet, and we couldn't get reinforcements to them until they were 80% devastated. But as soon as we got their, we cleaned up the rag-tag fleet and the survivors emergency jumped. To where, well, we'd find out soon enough.

One of our science ships found the pirate hideout in the Erak system. They were dumbfounded by what they found, and barely escaped with their lives. A whole pirate battle station, sitting just 4 jumps away from our home planet. It housed 2 fleets.

The Young Bloods that raided Charlie and an Old Veteran fleet that the brass figured was in charge of defending the system. They thought this since the fleet never went on a raid ever since it was discovered.

But the real monster, the real threat, was the Galleon. While the other 2 fleets sported ships no more threatening than our own corvettes and destroyers, this thing was different. The size of a planet, it had so many guns and fighters, no one could overpower it without significant numbers on your side.

Command decided that we would have to expand around Erak and deal with the raids when they came around.

After 100 years after our people went to space, we had formed the borders with the alien neighbors. Our claim was pretty sizable (36 systems), with 3 planets and 4 colony's, with 2 avenues in and out in our northern and southern borders.

Our Klanaxian neighbors of the north had just struck an alliance with us, and a lot of treaty's came with it. They started trading some of their military tech and strength for some overabundant resources and farming tech we had.

With this, Admiral Sera was one step closer to the Erak Raid.

It was a raid that our fleets had been preparing for the past 60 years. Strategies. Positions. Maneuvers. Maintenance.

We had 2 fleets of our own. The Torque fleet, commanded by Admiral Sera, and the Engine fleet, commanded by Admiral Donner.

The Engine fleet was the first fleet of our planet. Made up of nearly 50 corvettes, it has been well maintained for 100 years of service. Commanded by Admiral Donner for 50 years, this fleet has kept watch over Earth, and defended it successfully during the Kor'vur Assault.

The Torque fleet, the one I serve in as captain of a destroyer, was made up of 15 destroyers and 20 corvettes. Commanded by Admiral Sera for 15 years, our fleet has been in charge of guarding the southern border from the Kor'vur empire.

My destroyer, the S.S. Silver-lance, was a lazer/kinetic hybrid ship. Not the fanciest, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

During the war with them 12 years ago, we took planet after planet while Donner held off their assault. We won after they surrendered.

I'm getting off topic.

Admiral Sera, I, and the other captain's were walking though mission command during a retrofit run on Alpha station, next to Earth. Donners fleet was also there, getting retrofit as well.

The 2 admirals and the captain's gathered for a meeting with command.

In the room was command and some greenhorn officer, Reginald.

He was being promoted to admiral and is to be given a fleet. Our navy size could be expanded since our facilities grew and out tech got better. Brilliant, we all thought, a third fleet.

But the news was even better. The egg-heads had designed cruisers for our empire, based on some tech the Klanaxian's gave us. Far bigger than the destroyer I currently sit on.

Command wanted us to reconfigure all three fleets to better suit all needs, but Donner and Sera refused. They felt more comfortable with the ships they've served with for so many years. Very well. But a few ships we're still exchanged.

Donners fleet became 46 corvettes and 1 artillery cruiser.

Our fleet became 10 destroyers, 14 corvettes, 2 artillery, and 2 line cruisers.

Then the third fleet, the Nitro fleet, was made up of a total of 8 cruisers, 4 destroyers, and 10 corvettes.

One destroyer, the S.S. Trident, from our fleet was volunteered to be removed from the formation and given his own task in the raid. Brave S.O.B.

Why am I bothering with all these numbers, you may ask? It gets important down the line.

After all was settled, Admiral Sera asked command if they were going to accept her request. They did. The Erak Raid was on.

It sat right in the middle of our space, constantly attacking planet Charlie and it's star-fort. Even assisted the Kor'vur attacking it.

Soon, we would eradicate it. But it came with risk. After all, even with our new cruisers and upgraded equipment, we only now match them in battle power.

But the two Admirals have been preparing for a long time. They taught Reginald and his captain's their plan.

It was supposed to be a three way assault. First, the S.S. Trident would swing by the 2 pirate fleets and get their attention with a few pot shots.

He would them pull them to the jump point, away from the enemy star-base and the galleon, in which Reginald would hop in to the point and attack them. It was expected the cruisers would carry enough firepower for the job.

Donner would then hop through a second point and charge the star-base and take it out, then swing around to Reginald and rout the pirate fleets.

Sera's task was to engage the Galleon and keep it's attention all through the battle until all of the fleets joined and eliminated the Galleon. Yay for me.

It should have worked. It was so easy. But we should've known. All plans go out the airlock upon first contact.

On the day of August 17, the Erak raid began.

The Trident took the pot shots and was leading the Young Bloods and the Old Veterans away, then the Torque fleet hopped in and engaged the Galleon. It was so much bigger than I could have imagined.

I hear the order to fire. I ordered all gunners to fire, all fighters from my hanger to engage, and all crew to battle stations. It would be a long haul.

We get reports that Reginald has engaged and that Donner is approaching the base. All good so far. Until it wasn't.

Reginald's fleet loses a corvette. I knew their captain, good man. It was rough, but it was war. These things happen. However, Reginald panicked. He went off the book and ordered his cruisers to fall back while his smaller ships kept them engaged.

Command would not look upon his cowardly actions with mercy. Especially with what happened next. Donner had just engaged the star-fort when the pirate fleets descended on him. The Torque fleet could only watch as the Engine fleet is caught between the anvil and the hammer.

This earned some harsh words from Admiral Sera, telling him not to do it. But he ignores her advice. By the time his cruisers are in position, he's lost all 10 corvettes. The fool lost the lives of several of my friends with his incompetence. I'd have shot him myself if I had the chance. Then the enemy starts circling his cruisers, firing all they can.

If he had remained calm, he would have won. He was still battle ready. But Admiral Reginald ordered a full emergency retreat of his fleet, despite his objective unfulfilled.

Donners fleet still did well. They destroyed the Young blood fleet and shut down the star-fort. But before he could escape, Admiral Donners cruiser was destroyed by the Old Veterans. All hands lost.

Then the pirates turned to us.

Which brings us to today, 25 days into the Erak Raid. 8 ships are down, 20 still standing.

My ship has sustained some damage, but it has already healed thanks to our regenerative armor. The majority of the fleet is still engaged with the Galleon. I'm leading a battle-group of 3 destroyers, flying though the Old Veterans Fleet, trying to hit their flagship. After this attack, it should be done.

Weapons ready they tell me. Fire, I order.

I watch out the window as the mentions travel, hitting the side of the Pirate Flagship. It explodes with splendor. Must have hit a ammo storage unit.

After this, the Old Veterans Fleet turns tail and activates emergency jump measures.

Then, me and my battle group turn back to the Galleon, covered in craters. The fleet is circling it like wasps to a giant. We join the fun. Admiral Sera commends us on our small victory, avenging Admiral Donner.

Shells fly, impacts all over the ships shields, the corpses of our fellow ships haunt the space around us, but we press on.

So many volleys of lazer-shot, you'd think it would melt of pure heat from the guns. So many missiles, you could almost hear them explode in the vacuum of space. We were even running out of fuel and ammo for the fighters.

No one knows which shell it was. Whose fighter. Whose lazer-shot. But the massive ship explodes into a flurry of fire and scrap. Our ship shakes and several officers fall out of their chairs due to the shockwave. It quiets down and we look upon the scrapyard that used to be the Galleon.

We clap. We cheer. We jump with joy. It's over. We won.

The construction ships jump into the system to build the mining stations and the star-base.

We pick up the survivors of the destroyed ships of our fleet. Then the Torque fleet heads back to Alpha Station to be repaired.

Unfortunately, only 3 corvettes of the Engine fleet survived the battle. Admiral Donner is confirmed dead.

Reginald's fleet arrives the next day.

He is immediately stripped of rank, dishonorably discharged, and sent to the brig. As for the Nitro fleet, Admiral Sera recommends me for the position.

I accept, with one condition. The S.S. Silver-lance will be my Flagship.

#stellaris #Stellaris consloe edition #story time #space battle

[tortoisesshells]

Six Sentence Sunday: Buying Time (1/3, ~1450 words, some salty language, people coping with grief poorly)

this was supposed to be modern!fake-dating!AU for Customs and Duties, but, so far, there’s no dating, fake or otherwise - just a lot of pottering around an antiques shop, with a side helping of cocktail-party knowledge of clockmaking and 19th century US naval scandals. I have a plan. maybe. I also may be sorry.

The first time Nellie Treat met James Norrington, esq., he was already drunk at 2:30 on a winter Tuesday. It was Tuesday simply because it was the day after Monday, and it was 2:30 because sometime after lunch the new-old naval clock had struck five completely uninspiring bells – and it was still light outside. A sixth bell rang from the door swinging open, and Nellie had glanced up from her unending round of correspondences and deep-internet trawling to see a tall, cleanshaven man glancing about himself with complete bewilderment, as though he’d been expecting Narnia – or maybe a drop into a bottomless pit.

“Welcome,” Nellie’d said, with her polished customer-service smile, “Can I help you find something specific? Do you have an inquiry?”

“I drank too much,” the tall man replied, gesturing vaguely behind himself down the main drag, to any number of establishments, “I’ve walked around for an hour but I left my coat somewhere.” He paused expectantly, as though what he said had made any sense whatsoever.

Unbelievably (or maybe believably – she was a widow with two children and wasn’t getting any younger, and it wasn’t like she got out much), this had been the start of a fairly interesting friendship  –

Even if he had spent the next hour rambling about the duel between Decatur and Barron and the Chesapeake-Leopard Affair.

*

What Nellie Treat learned about James Norrington, in fairly short order thereafter, was this:

(1) He was a graduate of Princeton, Yale, and Harvard, in some combination of B.A.s and M.A.s and J.D.s which, as a proud graduate of a state school, she forgot as quickly as she could,

(2) He had upper-class-WASP-male-appropriate love of all things maritime, which led her to believe there was probably a daysailer, at the very least, in a marina somewhere, and she would have bet Sam’s grandmother’s pearls that there was at least one model ship in his office, and a collection of Samuel Eliot Morison’s histories on his shelves, somewhere,

(3) He’d just been dumped by his fiancé at a political fundraiser luncheon in Boston, which didn’t precisely explain why he was here. “95,” was the closest thing she’d gotten to an answer, which she supposed was technically correct, and,

(4) He was both sharp and a little stuffily polite, because not two days after their inauspicious first meeting she’d received an immaculately-penned note thanking her for her coffee, her argument, and her kindness. A few days later came a formal inquiry through her shop’s email: he was looking for a shelf clock from a particular Newport maker she’d never heard of. Was this a commission she was interested in undertaking?

Considering Mary had one more year at Stanford, yes. Yes, she was.

*

God, that fucking clock.

*

There wasn’t any particular reason to believe that Elinor Coggeshall would have turned into a respectable antiques dealer, since as a kid the only thing old stuff meant to her was the endless round of family hand-me-downs. Antiques had been Sam’s thing – in part, he guessed, because he grew up around the stuff (that hadn’t been donated to places like the MFA or the Wadsworth Atheneum or even, in the case of his great-great-something-great Uncle’s punchbowl, with its bold maker’s mark, “REVERE”, in the Metropolitan). The other part had been his love of stories and people and the endless revolutions of historical rumor and gossip mills. So, Nellie had married into the business.

And then, after ten years of marriage, Sam started complaining about headaches. Six months later, he was gone.

Ridiculous as it was, she observed some of the old mourning traditions – she lived around the things that had seen it firsthand, over a century ago – and it gave her something to do, covering mirrors and tying black ribbons on her framed photos, and spending an atrocious amount of time on the internet only to discover no one really made mourning crepe anymore, because, well – who did that? Who needed it? She must have worn the same three black turtlenecks and the same two pairs of black slacks for three months, until Aunt B had kindly but pointedly told her she looked more like a beat poet than a widow. Polly and Sam seem pretty relieved, too – and Mary, all the way from Stanford, pointedly sent her a beautiful and brilliantly colored floral scarf, to mark the change.

And business went on. What else was she supposed to do? No amount of crying would ever bring Sam back – and it wouldn’t pay the grief-counseling bills, either.

*

Where the clock was concerned, she had little luck – furniture, really, was what she knew best, and sure, yes, there was a fair amount of overlap between cabinetry and clocks, particularly when, before the mechanization of clock production in the wake of Eli Terry’s innovations, clockmakers had really only focused on the gears and mechanisms, and left the housings to carpenters and cabinetmakers – but she’d never really dealt in clocks besides a novelty one every now and again. That was mostly for her own amusement, anyway – like the naval clock over the door to her office, or the clock in a fake old-fashioned diver’s helmet that she’d found at an estate sale and given to her brother, who laughed for a good fifteen minutes over Skype because of it.

At the end of the first month, she’d sent an email to Mr. Norrington, esq., reporting very nicely and not in so many words, that she’d found sweet fuck-all, but there were these promising leads on clocks similar in build, mechanism, or origin. She didn’t expect any of them were good enough, and, Mr. Norrington emailed back politely that he appreciated her effort, but none of these were correct, and he’d like her to keep looking.

March was much the same, as was April: Mr. Norrington, here are these clocks that aren’t exactly what you’re looking for; thank you, Mrs. Treat, but I’d appreciate it if you continued to look. There were a few more pleasantries from him, with reference to a short article on Decatur, belatedly making the point he’d tried to make but for the scotch those three months ago. It made her laugh a little, even.

May was shaping up to be much the same, save that, shortly before noon – an unimpressive seven bells, that was punctuated, again, by the ring of the shop-door-bell as it opened. “Welcome,” she said, looking up from her emails and list of estate sales she wanted to buzz through either for out of town friends or from her own sense of piratical treasure-hunting – and the intellectual challenge of getting in and out with two children at ten and eight in tow. It had been a good month since her last major commission.

At any road, she’d set aside her pen and paper, looking up with her placid expression, and –

“Ah, Mrs. Treat,” said Mr. Norrington, “Good morning.”

Nellie had a sudden presentiment that he’d come to thank her but dismiss her in person, since he seemed a thorough, conscientious, and probably old-fashioned sort. She probably should have expected that, and she smiled a little more determinedly and plastically as a result.

“Good morning, Mr. Norrington. How can I help you today?”

“I was passing through, on my way to New York,” he said, by way of explanation, “And I wondered, in light of that, and the work you have done for me, if I might not suspend the monthly email in favor of a short conversation?”

“All right.” She gathered her notes and her tablet under her arm, and gestured towards her office at the back of the shop. “It’s not the neatest place in the world, but it’ll do. Do you want some tea?”

“Would you like lunch? On my tab. I’ve never seen so many diagrams of mechanisms and assemblages, and I’ve certainly learned more about hardwoods than I ever expected. You must have gone cross-eyed, Mrs. Treat.”

Nellie protested that it was far too generous an offer, but Mr. Norrington pushed back that he had hardly discharged her – her kindness (he said, vaguely, a little color rising in his cheeks at the memory) towards him, from those months ago.

So, a little while later, that was how Nellie found herself locking up and setting the security system, setting her quaint little Out-To-Lunch sign that Sam had penned in during his calligraphy phase in the door, and poking her head into Hancock’s to tell Lydia that she’d be back in an hour.

#customs and duties #customs and duties aus #buying time #i'm profoundly sorry for who I am as a person #also this is SIGNIFICANTLY fluffier than the actual continuity so thank fuck no spoilers here? #fic #my fic

[flirting-with-psychology]

Has the person you like ever seen you in your pajamas? Yes

Did the last person you kissed celebrate your last birthday with you? He was celebrating thanksgiving with his parents during my birthday but he called me

What’s the first word of the last text message you received? I

Do you think you’ve changed at all over the past year? I’ve gotten more anxiety and gotten fatter

Is there a song that reminds you of your ex? Do you still listen to that song? I Almost Do, Red, and If This Was A Movie (all by taylor swift). Yes I still listen

Did you tag anyone in your last Facebook status? Not in the post I shared, but in my last original post I tagged my boyfriend

How do you behave when you’re drunk? Usually giggly and overexcited

What is your least favorite type of chocolate? White chocolate

When was the last time you felt disappointed? What was the reason? Disappointed that the gym won’t let me cancel over the phone and might still charge me for february

Is there someone that can make you smile, even when you feel like crying? Not always

Is there a certain person on your mind right now? Tell me about him/her. My boyfriend

You’re getting ready to go to bed, and the last person you kissed shows up, what do you do? Get into bed with him

What was your last thought before you went to bed last night? Being annoyed at my dad’s snoring through the walls

Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? Maybe

Are you okay right now? I haven’t been okay this whole year

What time did you get up today? Like 1:30

When was the last time you saw your mom? The other day

What is the last thing you drank today? Water

Do you dislike/hate anyone? Donald trump and Mitch McConnell

Where is your best friend right now? At home I assume

When will your next kiss be? As soon as we get negative test results

Will you be up before 7 am tomorrow? No

Does anyone completely understand you? No

Who was the last girl you hugged outside of family? I don’t remember, it’s been a long time

Have you held hands with somebody in the past three days? No

What will you be doing in 3 hours? Probably wasting time

How often do you straighten your hair? Never now, I used to when it was short

What are you currently looking forward to? The costume sale that hopefully I will be able to go to

Is tomorrow gonna be a good day? What are you going to do? Lol probably not

Who did you last hang out with? My dad

Did anyone see your last kiss? No

Could things possibly get any better? I fucking hope so

Do you know who you’ll even kiss next? I assume it will be my boyfriend

Do you ever sleep in jeans? No, that sounds really uncomfortable

Name something you dislike about the day you’re having? Stress

Did you get a full 8 hours of sleep last night? No

Are you in love lately? Not sure

How often do you see your ex? Rarely

Who was the last person to text you? My boyfriend

Did you like anyone last summer? Yes, my boyfriend

Do you replay things that have happened in your head? Yeah

Who was the last person you stayed up with till 2am? My boyfriend

Do you want a boyfriend or girlfriend? I enjoy having one

Are you currently in a relationship? Yes

Do you use a full length mirror daily? Most days

Would you be shocked if the person you have feelings for texted you? No

Is there anyone you wish you could fix things with? I would like to reconnect with my friend Shaina

What are you planning on doing after this? Idk

Is there a girl you would do anything for? No

Who IMed you on facebook last? My mom

How old are you? 26

Do you love dogs? Yes

Were you finished childhood and teens when Harry Potter movies came out? No, they started coming out when I was in elementary school

Did you keep all your VHS tapes? Probably

Do you think Jack Nicholson is a good actor? Yeah I think so

Have you ever watched an episode of “The Honeymooners”? No

Have you ever owned a pair of high-top Converse? No

Do you have rain boots with a cute pattern on them? I have cowboy rainboots

Would you rather eat an apple or an orange right now? Apple

Would you rather do a cartwheel on land or a backflip in water? If I could do either of them, a backflip in water would be cool

Have you ever performed on stage in front of people? Yes

Were you kinda scared of the goths in high school? Not scared, just didn’t have anything in common with them

What size is your mattress?(single,twin,double,queen,king) Full size

Do you eat foods from all 4 food groups everyday? Lol no

Do you sleep in PJs? Yes

Do you prefer watching TV or listening to music? Watching TV. Listening for music needs to be accompanied by another activity

Would you rather watch a movie in theatre or at home? Theater is fun, but right now at home

Do you prefer brown or white rice? White

Do you like spaghetti? I love spaghetti

What about lasagna? No, I don’t like red sauce

Do you celebrate Christmas? No

Is your Thanksgiving celebrated in October too? Who does that?

Do you like chocolate bars? Yes

what about ice cream? Mostly, although sometimes the plain flavors are boring

Have you ever been stung by anything? What was it? Wasps a few times

Do you get tired easily? Only in the morning

Or do you always have plenty of energy to spare? No

Have you ever done volunteer work? Where? I volunteered as a teaching assistant What about court-ordered community service? No

Have you ever worn contacts?(even just to try them out) I tried but it made my vision all swimmy

Would you wear contacts on a daily basis? Maybe if I got some that worked

Are your ears pierced? How many times? One on each ear

Do you have GOD-GIVEN(not dyed) natural brown hair too? I have natural brown hair but I don’t believe it’s god-given

Or were you born blonde? No

Have you found a gray hair on your head or body before? I don’t think so. Both of my parents kept their hair color for awhile so hopefully I got that gene

Have you ever had any suspicious moles removed? Yes, on my arm

Have you ever been screened for STDs? Yes

Are all your wisdom teeth pulled? Yes

Did you have your tonsils taken out? No

Did you have your appendix taken out? No

How many kidneys do you have?(have you donated one?) I have both of them

Would you(to save someone)?^^^ I'm not sure. If it was someone I loved and there wasn’t one already on hand, maybe

Have you ever found a bug or slug in your salad? ewww no

Do you like Harry Potter? Yes

What about Twilight? It was ok, I liked it at the time I read it How do you feel about Lord of the rings? I like the movies

Are you going to see ‘The Hobbit’ when it comes out? I did

Do you have a glass that says 'Molson Canadian’ on it? No

Do you have any collector’s glasses or cups or mugs? I have a bunch of shotglasses from places I visit

Would you rather have a white fridge or a black fridge or a stainless steel fridge? Stainless steel

What size shoe do you wear? 7.5-8 womens

Do you have a wide foot or a narrow foot or just average? Kind of dorito-shaped, so some shoe types just don’t fit

Do you bite your nails when you’re stressed? No

Do you have to take an allergy pill daily in order to live normally? No

Are you on the birth control pill? No

Or are you trying to get pregnant? I’m trying not to get pregnant, but I use condoms instead

You’d rather wear black sneakers or sneakers in a bright color or pattern? Probably bright color

Has anyone ever told you they were attracted to you? Yes

Can you swim well in water way above your head? Decently

Are you afraid of thunder & lightening? No

Have you ever experienced an earthquake? No

What about a tornado? No

Are you closer to your dad?(more so than your mom) I’m probably a little closer to my mom

Were you your parents’ first born? Yes

Do you have a child? Is the father still with you? No

Did you trade stickers at recess when you were a kid? No

How old were you when you had your first crush? Do you remember their name? I was like 5 the first time I put a word to it and his name was Aidan, but I probably had sort-of crushes even before that

Can you even remember what the hell they looked like? Blond, bowl-cut at the time. He actually grew up to be really hot so I guess I knew how to pick em

Have you ever operated any type of motorized vehicle before? A car

Are you going to drink alcohol tonight? Maybe

Have you ever heard of the Canadian kids show called “Mr. Dressup”? No

What about the kids show “Fred Penner’s Place”? No

Did you hate Sesame Street when you were little too? A little

Were you born perfectly healthy or with some(or a lot) of health issues? I might have had some minor things

Do you collect DVDs? Not as a collection, but I buy movies I like a lot

Do you download music? Yes

Or do you still go to stores and buy CDs? No, those are like twice as much

Did you skip(jumo-rope) a lot as a kid? No, I was bad at it

Did you ever catch any bugs or insects with your friends as a kid? Only roly polies

Didn’t you just LOVE art class in elementary school?! Yeah

Have you ever played dodgeball? Yes but not well

What about Red Rover? No

Have you ever played “What time is it mr. wolf?”? It sounds familiar but I don’t remember it

Do you hate your weight? Yes

Have you ever struggled with a mental illness? A little

Serious question, peanut butter or nutella? Peanut butter for a sandwich, nutella for eating straight out of the jar

Have you ever stepped on a snail? No

Do you prefer baked potatoes or mashed potatoes? Mashed

Do you prefer ankle socks over regular socks? Ankle socks

Last movie you’ve seen in theaters? I can’t remember

What is your oldest sibling’s middle name? I don’t have one

Have you ever been to Disneyland or Disney World? Both

Would you ever go backpacking across any country? Probably not

Would you prefer to travel around the world by yourself or with a friend? With a friend

Do you like breadsticks? Yes

Do you usually wear shorts around your house all year long? No, but I do wear short sleeves year round

What state were you born in? Colorado

Have you ever had a nose bleed? All the time

How far away do you live from your birthplace? Like 15 minutes

Do you have a weak stomach? No

Do you know anybody who has been diagnosed with cancer? Yes

Have you ever had to take care of an intoxicated person? Yes

Have you ever considered becoming a lawyer? Slightly but not really

Do you *really* like donuts? Yes

Do you think Disney World could ever get old? At some point

If you could, would you hookup with the last person you texted? Yes

What are your favorite things to spend money on? Jewelry and nerd stuff

Will you talk to the person you like on the phone tonight? I am talking to him right now

What do you usually order on a pizza? No sauce, cheese, garlic, pinapple Do you and your boyfriend/girlfriend fight a lot? Not really

Who’s the first person with the letter “m” in your contacts? Mac

Which would you rather have a new puppy or kitten? Kitten

How old will you be on your next birthday? 27 yikes

What color are your underwear? Turquoise

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? If it’s messy

#survey

[gumnut-logic]

The Hero (Part Two)

Title: The Hero

Sequel/companion piece to The Joker

Part One | Part Two

Author: Gumnut

27 Oct – 3 Nov 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Thunderbird Two, with Virgil and Gordon aboard, is hijacked and stolen. With Virgil injured, it is up to Gordon to save his brother and his ‘bird. Sequel/companion piece to ‘The Joker’. Gordon is far more than he seems.

Word count: 3140

Spoilers & warnings: Violence, WASP!Gordon, Military!Scott, whump.

Timeline: Sequel/companion piece to ‘The Joker’.

Author’s note: For @corbyinoz because she has written some magnificent Virgil and Gordon fics and is a great inspiration. Thank you for all your wonderful words.

It started with ‘The Joker’. I got interested in WASP!Gordon and decided to explore his side of the story. Then PLOT happened. Now I have no idea what is going on.

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for putting up with my crazy.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

“Count?”

“Four. One at my door, one in the hallway, another at Virgil’s, plus the interrogator.” He stared at his hand. His gloves had saved his knuckles, but the impact was still there.

They were standing on the residential balcony overlooking the main part of the house. The sky was darkening, the breeze cooling. Below them in the Comms room, Grandma was doing busy work dusting Virgil’s piano. She always got fidgety when members of her family were ill or injured and today definitely qualified. The whole week qualified.

Behind him, on the far side of the building, Virgil was curled up in bed in his room. Today, they had finally got him home. Three days in hospital wrestling with the cocktail of drugs and injuries those bastards had inflicted on his brother.

Virgil wasn’t military. Never would be. It wasn’t lack of skill or capability. It just wasn’t Virgil. At the edge of things there was a factor that made a soldier a soldier. Scott had it, Gordon had it, Virgil did not.

It was not a deficit on his big brother’s part. It was just not his place in the world. What he contributed was different to what Gordon contributed, but it had no less value.

But it meant his brother should not be on the front line, should not face what he had had to face. Virgil was strong, that was not the issue.

It was just wrong.

And it put bile in Gordon’s throat.

“I think we should call him in.”

Scott shifted beside him, but neither man looked at each other. “Already have.” The fading sun sparkled light off the tumbler in his hand as he drank a mouthful.

“Good.” A pause. “Tin?”

“Pissed, but she’ll live.”

“They are better together, no matter what she says.”

Scott snorted. “They are one hell of a pair.”

A grim smile. “Two is always better than one.”

-o-o-o-

Gordon crouched in front of his brother. “Hey, Virg, that was some speech. Who knew you could be so eloquent under pressure?”

Brown eyes struggled to focus on him. Virgil remained canted to one side, his whole posture limp. “He’s strong. He’s going to kick your ass.”

Shit. Virgil was so far gone he didn’t even recognise his own brother. Gordon bit his lip. Time. He didn’t have time for this.

“Hey, hey, Virgil. I’m Gordon, remember? The joker guy you said was going to save your ass.” He traced the ropes holding his brother. Virgil’s baldric was missing. A quick glance around the room located it in the shadows. Excellent. Virg always had tools at hand. He took a second to grab the green length of silicone leather and strung it over the khaki hanging off his torso. An attempt at his brother’s comms gave as much result as he expected it to. Nothing.

The penknife blade made short work of zip-ties and rope and Virgil sagged into his arms, mumbling. His brother was heavy. This was going to be a problem. “C’mon, we gotta get you outta here. Won’t be long before they discover I escaped.” And they were in a dead-end corridor, not exactly a strong defensive position.

“Don’t underestimate my brother. He’s funny, but he’s so much more.”

Gordon ran a hand through his brother’s hair as he lay on his shoulder, taking just a split second to hold him tight.

“In any other circumstances, I’d be lapping this up, but Virgil, we need to get you onto your feet. I’m strong, but not strong enough for your heavy lifting. C’mon, up you get.” Gordon pushed up with his thighs, his brother’s weight on his upper body. Virg, please.

The interrogator on the floor squirmed, wailing something against the wad of the man’s uniform Gordon had shoved in his mouth.

Virgil responded, swaying where he stood. “Gordon is going to come. You’re going to regret it.”

“Yes, yes, help me here, Virgil. I did come. I’m here. It is time to go.”

Virgil continued to mutter his faith in his brother to the world at large as Gordon manhandled him into a position that could enable them to move efficiently as possible.

“Okay, arm over my shoulder, we gotta move!” Virgil’s weight fell on him and Gordon grunted. The muttering continued. “What the hell did they give you?! Some kind of truth serum?”

They stumbled from the room. The guard outside was still out cold. Gordon took the opportunity to grab his firearm before hurrying himself and his delirious brother up the hallway.

Sneaking a look around the corner, he found the coast clear and they made the length of it until they were back to the main corridor. Virgil’s head had fallen limp onto Gordon’s shoulder. Blood was staining the khaki brown as Virgil muttered into the material.

A group of men were striding down the corridor.

Shit.

Gordon dragged himself and Virgil back a little down the hallway, avoiding the door he had already stashed one knocked out guy, he tried another, only to find it locked.

Shit.

Shit.

The voices grew closer. “Um, you’re going to have to be quiet for a bit, we have to sneak past some bad guys.”

Virgil started in his grip, his head wobbling on his neck. “Bad guys want to hurt Gordon. Can’t let them hurt Gordon. Tried to kick their asses, but I’m not like Gordon.” His head lolled. “Or Scott. Couldn’t do it.” His voice faded a moment, only to return much louder and panicked. “Too many. Now they want to hurt Gordon. Can’t let them hurt him. No, no, can’t...”

“Shit, Virgil, shhh!” Gordon dragged him further down the hallway and around the corner they had already escaped from. “Just be quiet for a minute, please.”

Virgil froze and Gordon held his breath, but it was only a moment and Virgil’s panic returned. He appeared to think Gordon was going to be attacked.

Which wasn’t far from the truth, because the men in the corridor had stopped and responded to the noise Virgil was making.

Gordon slammed himself against the wall, his hand clamping over Virgil’s mouth.

It was a mistake.

His brother, forced beyond his limits, took it as a threat and fought back. Gordon lost his grip on Virgil and was flung away just as three men tore around the corner and spotted the both of them.

Virgil collapsed, the dull thunk of his head on the linoleum floor registered briefly before Gordon found himself in a fight for his life.

-o-o-o-

“There were four of them.” A swallow. “Virgil received his second head injury because I had to let him go.”

“He’ll be fine, Gordon. You did what you had to do.” A hand landed on his shoulder.

What he had had to do was fight for himself and his brother.

He got off a shot before the gun was knocked from his hand. After that it was a blur of fists and impacts. He had been so lucky. Only one of the men was armed. He went down with a bullet in his side. Gordon had been aiming for his weapon, but he moved at the last second. Regardless, he didn’t regret it. He hadn’t had time anyway as the other three had piled onto him.

One had half a brain and went for Virgil, face down against the wall. Gordon had been hard put to divert him...into the wall. The snap of bone had been nasty.

But that had left two and he could handle two.

“Remind me to thank Tin for the two-opponent drill she made us run through so many times. It paid off, big.”

The hand was still on his shoulder.

He didn’t object.

-o-o-o-

“Virgil?! You with me? C’mon, bro, please.” If there was desperate pleading in his voice, so be it. His ribs hurt from a blow that had made it through his defences and a shin wouldn’t be forgiving him anytime soon.

And if Virgil didn’t wake up, he would have to throw him over his shoulders and stagger out of this complex best he could. C’mon, Virg.

As if he had heard him the second time, his brother answered, his voice rough. “Gordon?”

Oh, thank god. “Yes. You with me?”

“Knew you would come. Kick their ass.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that.” He sighed. Whatever the hell they had given his brother, it was strong. He grabbed an arm and pulled as gently as possible. “Can you stand?”

Virgil looked up, but Gordon got the distinct impression he couldn’t see, his eyes vague and unfocussed. Hell.

“Don’t mess with my brother, he’ll kick your ass.” And he was back to vaunting Gordon’s defence skills. Gordon had no idea Virgil had such faith in him. It was something he would have to analyse at a later time.

“I’ll take that as a maybe.” Another tug on that arm and Virgil complied, awkwardly pushing himself to his feet. The moment he straightened, his brother’s pallor shifted from grey to green to almost white. He wavered and would have fallen if Gordon hadn’t caught him.

“Shit!” It was rasped out and Virgil’s face clenched shut.

Gordon straightened throwing his brother’s arm over his shoulder. “Sorry, bro, but we gotta move now. You can throw up on my shoes later.” For a moment he thought Virgil was going to puke right then and there, but he must have found some inner strength, because as Gordon guided him down the hall, he kept it together enough to stumble alongside.

Gordon fingered the gun in his hand.

-o-o-o-

It was Scott who broke the moment. His hand dropping from Gordon’s shoulder, he turned back to the two chairs, fingered the decanter and poured two more shots of the whisky.

“Another four. That brings the count to eight.”

Gordon’s glass found his hand and he sipped the drink absently. “Yeah, it does.”

“The total was fifteen.” And Tin appeared at the edge of the balcony, her cat-like stride slinking her through the glass doors. Dressed in shorts and a loose top, she eyed the alcohol in their hands, but did not comment.

Scott stared at her a moment before turning to Gordon with a frown on his face. “Fifteen?”

Gordon shrugged. “Well, I had to get Two back, didn’t I? It’s not like I could leave her there. Virgil would never forgive me.”

Scott’s head tipped slightly to one side. “You know that’s not true.”

He hid behind his tumbler, revelling in the liquid fire it poured down his throat. “I couldn’t leave her there.” Security and technology be damned. She was his brother’s ‘bird.

They couldn’t have her.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was flagging by the time they made it back to the hangar, Gordon virtually carrying his big brother. Words were muttered about Gordon kicking butt, but they were barely coherent. It was the clearer and desperate ‘make it stop’ that wrenched Gordon’s heart out.

“Not much longer, Virgil, I promise.” There was a breathlessness to his voice. Virgil was damned heavy.

He hauled his brother down the last corridor and prayed he didn’t run into anyone else.

A set of doors and he held Virgil with one arm and peered through. It was the hangar, Two sitting there in all her glory. Nearly there, Virgil, nearly there. There was no one in sight, so he slipped himself and his brother through those doors and towards the open module of Thunderbird Two.

An indrawn breath and Virgil attempted to lift his head, eyes searching as if he sensed his girl.

Gordon shuffled his brother over to the side of his ‘bird. The moment they reached the green hull, Virgil reached out and his hand found the cahelium alloy.

An exhale and his brother rested his forehead on the cold metal.

Voices echoed from inside the module. Eyes darting, Gordon took a chance and lowered Virgil to the floor. “Sit here. I’ll be back in a moment.”

His brother curled up beside his ‘bird, his cheek against her green skin, eyes closed and frowning.

A moment. He only needed a moment. Please be safe.

A prayer to the powers that be and Gordon slipped around and through the open module door.

Another three men. All in khaki, all with red criss-cross patches on their arms, pulling apart the mechanics in one of the pod bays.

Virgil would be so pissed. He kept that machinery well-ordered and functioning flawlessly. These assholes had probably screwed up the robotic alignment and it would take half a day to get it back in sync.

Yes, pissed, Virg was going to be so pissed.

He crept along the wall silently, taking advantage of their absorption in their investigation to sneak as close as he could. The moment he was spotted, he charged.

One of them yelled and Gordon swore. That one was the first to go down, the thud of his head hitting cahelium was almost enough to make the aquanaut wince.

Almost.

The other two, less aware and slower in reaction, went down even harder.

One glance at exactly what they had done to the pod robotics had him muttering profanities as he dragged the three bodies hurriedly out the door, flinging them onto the hangar floor out of range of where he fully intended to taxi the giant cargo plane.

Returning to Virgil, he found his brother reaching out blindly calling his name.

Aw, hell.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” He grabbed Virgil’s wavering hands. “We’re okay, but we need to be fast.” A heave and his brother’s arm was around his shoulders again and he dragged him into Two’s module.

Virgil’s collapsed against him, his legs folding as if finally aboard his girl, he had nothing left.

Shit.

Gordon staggered and nearly fell. With some effort he was able to lug Virgil over to the wall and lay him gently down, rolling him into the recovery position. Hell, Virg, don’t do this. A very quick vitals assessment, and his brother appeared stable, but considering the unknown substance in his system, Gordon wasn’t game to trust anything.

But first things first.

He hurried to the module remote and pulled up a ship’s status screen. A quick scan for life signs and he found two in the cockpit.

Damn.

Of course, this was when he wished Virgil was both awake and in his right mind, because the engineer could make his lady dance and do whatever he wanted her to do.

But he wasn’t. Work with what you have. A Scott Tracy motto which meant it was likely a Jeff Tracy motto, too.

And what he did have was access to the security system.

Punching in his co-pilot’s code, he brought up the anaesthetic gas defence network and hit the button to flood the cockpit. An extra flick of a finger secured all the exits to that space.

A count to ten and he closed the module door. Another flick and TB2 lowered her body and drew the module up to dock.

He had to move fast.

Raiding the module’s supplies, he dug up a gas mask and with a quick check on Virgil made his way to the cockpit. Another code to unlock the door and, ready to take on whatever he encountered, he leapt through.

He needn’t have worried. A man and a woman were out cold on the deck plates.

Gordon hurried over to the pilot’s seat and activated the security system that electrified the skin of the ‘bird.

Now no-one could get in, he could breathe a moment.

Pumps began cycling out the gas and clearing the air. Gordon took that moment to dig up some zip-ties and secure the couple. He dragged them to a supply closet, stripped the tiny room of anything that could aid them - Virgil was likely to be pissed at that, too, he kept his supplies in neurotic order and now they were scattered all over the corridor - and stashed them in there for safe keeping.

Then he ran to get his brother.

He didn’t want Virgil out of his sight. In his condition, he needed monitoring.

His brother was exactly where he left him. Blood still sluggishly dripped from his head wound and Gordon was harshly reminded of the steel bar responsible.

With Virgil out cold, Gordon hauled his brother up as carefully as possible, walked him the short distance to his own cockpit and gently placed him in his pilot’s seat. Harness secured, Gordon took his own co-pilot seat and started a very hurried pre-flight.

Someone outside started yelling, but Gordon shut it out as he initialised Two’s engines and her familiar whine began to build.

The hangar door remained an obstacle, but his brother’s ‘bird had a laser for a reason.

“Two.” It was slurred and rough, but it was Virgil.

A glance in his brother’s direction found him still slouched in his seat, head lolling, eyes still closed.

“Yeah, Virg, we’re on your ‘bird. Hang tight because I’m afraid I might have to scratch her paintwork.”

“You wouldn’t do that. We only joke about it.” Slurred, but clearer.

“Well, I’m not in a joking mood right now.” And he fired the laser, Two’s targeting computer slicing a Thunderbird-sized hole in the steel door.

“What are you doing?” Virgil’s eyes were open, but still glazed.

“Cutting our way out of here.”

“Where?”

“They stole your ‘bird, Virg. Remember?” The moment he said it, he knew it was a mistake. Virgil’s response was to start an anxious muttering about Gordon getting hurt, he had to protect Gordon.

“It’s okay, we’re escaping. Another five seconds.” Literally, the laser was nearly finished. “Hang in there, Virgil.”

The muttering got louder. A mix of faith in Gordon and terror for his safety. Virgil’s voice was slurred and random and he needed a hospital as soon as humanly possible.

Two roared as Gordon engaged VTOL, the whole ship lifting off the hangar floor. Ship’s sensors tracked their intended flight path, and with no little amount of vengeance, Gordon engaged her rear thrusters, likely torching whatever was behind the Thunderbird, and pushed her through the hangar doors with a godawful crash.

-o-o-o-

“Virgil lost consciousness again not long after that. I got in contact with John and we flew to Wellington. You know the rest.” Those moments with Virgil limp beside him had lasted forever.

The hand on his shoulder returned. “You did good, Gordon.”

“Yes, he did.”

The familiar voice was calm and quiet and ever so controlled, but it made all three of them start in surprise.

“Mister Gordon, it is good to know you’ve kept up your training.”

Tin was glaring and Scott smirking. Gordon found himself lining up with his big brother, his lips curling into a grin.

“Hey, Kyrano.”

-o-o-o-

End Part Two

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #the joker and the hero

[jaywrites101]

Ye Olde Tag Game

I was tagged by @bexminx, thanks a bunch for the tag. There’s something about these games that just gets me pumped for writing.

1: What book have you read a million times and would read a million times more? And why?

Keys to the Kingdom, by Garth Nix. I grew up with the series, reading them nearly as much as Harry Potter. It’s an older series, but you should check them out.

2: Which OC of your current wip did you come up with first?

That would be The Wingman. Our foolishly optimistic hero who’s on death’s door.

3: What piece of world-building gave or is giving you the most trouble?

I suppose (for now) that would be the gang initiations. I’ve never been in a gang (thank God!) so the only bit’s I kinda-sorta know are the stuff they show you on T.V. and that has a hit-and-miss track record. And I have ZERO interest in finding someone IRL who is/was in a gang for research purposes so-o-o-o... I’m just taking my best guess at the experience and hoping it doesn’t break everyone’s suspension of disbelief.

In the past, other struggles with worldbuilding also came from things I hadn’t experienced first hand or met someone who’s dealt with that issue before.

4: What type of scene is your favorite to write? Why?

Rising action scenes. Every time. I get wrapped up in my own intensity as the stakes get higher and higher. Anywhere you think to yourself whoa, that got tense fast. I’m sitting on the other end of the process going I know, right?!? Like it’s legit so much fun for me to just keep winding things up.

5: (Stealing this one) What chapter of your main wip is your favorite? Why?

I’ve not been writing on The City in FreeFall long enough to have a favorite yet =( But, for A Treasure Made of Death, I had a lot of love for my section titled Exploration and Frustration. It was the last time I had to really be fun before all the characters had to gear up for the intense action. And a lot of fun was had. =D Drake tried so hard to find something useful in this scene only for him to not even recognize a book when he (or more accurately, when Dela) found one.

6: If your OCs were transplanted into another genre (say, fantasy to sci-fi or sci-fi to horror), what would their new occupations be?

I could very easily see The Wingman transplanted into a horror film just to be that guy that gets killed because he was the one person to try to do the sensible thing. (Sensible things never work in horror films.)

7: How well would you survive if you were dropped into the world of your main wip?

Actually, Pretty well... Even if I was literally dropped into the world of The City in FreeFall, I’m pretty confident that The Wingman will catch me before anything bad happens.

8: Which of your OCs is the scariest, or if none are scary, which is the sweetest? Why?

That depends on how we want to define scary. I have characters who don’t rate very high on the unusual or spooky meters but their absolutely terrifying in implication. Like the Casual Killer from A Simple Casual Murder.  But if we’re going for the “I met this thing in a haunted house and my soul left my body from fear alone.” We’re going to have to go with Blane Cook. Cook is a monster of a man who loves torturing people before killing them. Low key, he could star in his own horror film.

9: What would you say was the one thing that sparked the idea for your main wip?

I was watching the first season of Legends of Tomorow and I really didn’t like what they did to Kendra and Carter’s characters. Like, Hawkgirl and Hawkman have so much potential if you’re rebooting their origin story but they were the blandest characters of the season!  So I was thinking of Superheroes and how I’d create my own when I felt the urge to write the idea page for CFF. And thus The Wingman was born!

10: Describe the space you write in like you’re telling a story.

I’ll start at the table, my laptop plugged in. My cat’s try to help me write by sitting on my keyboard. My brother’s watching T.V. in the living room. The cats won’t stop biting the charger, I have to make a choice. Spray-bottle or move... I choose to move. Nowhere I sit is good today. My room? Too dark, too cluttered. The living room is too loud. In a fit of despiration, I grab a card table and a folding chair and sit outside. The heat hit’s me like a wave. Bugs cry out from the woods. Our outdoor cats rub against my ankles looking for attention. But they don’t jump on the table. My fingers fly across the keyboard. What will I write next? Even I don’t know.

A pause.

The next line occurs to me. I write it down as fast as I can before the train of thought leaves me forever. The sun is straight above me. I’m drowning in my own sweat. My concrete porch is protected by a wooden roof that wasps now claim as their home. I itch at my feet, in my socs, on my leg, and down my back. Flies, I hope. I write the next line and pray it’s not spiders. And why should it be spiders? They don’t like humans... I swat at my itches aggressively. The cat’s look at me like I’m a madman. The porch is too safe. Too close to the wall. Bugs won’t leave me alone. I move to the grass underneath the massive oak. It’s the biggest tree I’ve ever seen, probably the biggest in the state. I can’t help but admire it as I sit beneath limbs that are bigger around than I am. The chair sinks three inches into the wet grass again. I don’t have to sit here for long, just long enough to finish the scene.

I can’t do it!

The bugs are maddening. I can’t stop itching! 

What line was I on? What line is next?? I have to re-read what I wrote. No time to edit, just focus. The. Next. Line. Is... There! Back on track again. The scene is so close to finishing. Oh, what I wouldn’t do for a room that locked, or a table inside that filled with loving cats! It’s not their fault. They don’t understand why it’s so important to-

It’s finished! I’m a week behind my schedule, but my bit for today is done! I can go inside, so I do. A shower awaits! When I’m done I can get on Twitter, on Tumblr and watch more YouTube videos on the couch. I didn’t get a call today either... Summer’s already began but no one wants to hire a starving author from nowheresville when there are teens eagerly applying for jobs. I must be a madman...

I must be a madman...

I must be...

11: What is the first thing you remember reading and thinking ‘This inspires me to write’?

You know what? I’m not sure. When I started, I got that “I want to write,” moment when I turned in my assignment for our eighth-grade English assignment. We were supposed to make up a story based around a butterfly we spend a period drawing and while everyone else turned in their 1 and a half page minimum I had seven pages... and it still wasn’t finished... ^///^

One of my other teachers heard about the incident and said that I should be a writer and I just... liked the idea of it. It was like the perfect glove, a shoe that was just my size. It felt right. And I’ve wanted to write ever since.

SO, I know at least some of you might be concerned about the above story. Don’t be. It is just a story.

I did go outside to write the other day, but it wasn’t nearly that bad... mostly. There’s not really a good place to write in my house and I do move around a lot... but I wrote this as if it was happening to someone else. My thoughts are so meta-focused that it’s hard to imagine what I’d do, say, or think in any given scenario... Makes it easy to get into other character’s heads... not so much for my own.

Sorry if I scared you.

@ If you see this post. You’re tagged! No excuses! Like and reblog now. (because I can see you. =P) and make your own tag responses. (Also don’t forget to go to bexminx at the top of the page and give her a few likes as well.)

[fortunatelylori]

The Winter Rose - A Jonsa fic

So, I have decided to post my @jonsasecretsanta2018 fic today. This is a Jonsa one-shot for @thescarletempress0208. 

I don’t know about you guys but I love Christmas. I love the tree, the ornaments, the caroling. I love waking up on the 25th and running to the tree to see what presents Santa left for me. I love it all. It’s the time where I really connect to my inner child. And there’s nothing my inner child loves more than fairy tales. Since this is placed within the ASOIAF/GOT universe, I didn’t center it around Christmas, as they have none but I sill wanted to make it really festive so I hope that shows through. 

I will post it here in its entirety but it will also be available on AO3, if you prefer that format. 

A special thank you to  @jonsasecretsanta2018 for this initiative. I had a really great time writing this and I can’t wait to see what everyone else comes up with. Lastly, Merry Christmas  @thescarletempress0208! I hope you have a great festive season and that you enjoy this! 

* word to the wise: I play around with the rules of medieval tourneys in this fic and also the magic elements are far more whimsical than in the source material. My excuse: this is a fairy tale! :)))) Also, this gets long, so sit down comfortably, grab a snack and enjoy!

                                          The Winter Rose

She stumbled over the stairs, struggling with the thick coat of ice that covered the stone and as she came out into the cold, winter air she breathed deeply, happy to have escaped the dank and musty crypts below.

All around her the charred and blackened ruins of the once great castle of the North laid bare and empty, covered in thick layers of freshly shed snow and, as she walked through the court yard, it scrunched beneath her feet, giving out hollowed echoes. It was a desolate place, to be sure. Even more so as dusk was fast approaching and she found herself alone, all the other tourists having long since left.

But as snowflakes danced all around her, nestling in her hair, melting on her cheeks, she had to admit there was also a strange kind of beauty to it. In front of her was the last of the towers that had remained tall and whole, aside from the caved in roof that had given it its name. It was like a sentinel among the crumbled ruins, with thick vines that encircled the ice laden stone, covering it with lush green foliage despite the time of year. Sprinkled throughout were the most beautiful blue roses, the shade of which she had never seen before, come into full bloom, their soft petals covered in thin shards of ice that sparkled in the reddish sunlight.

She drew a deep breath and inhaled the sweet floral scent that hanged thick and fragrant in the air.

“Do you know the story of the Broken Tower and the winter roses?”

She smiled at the sound of his voice, leaden with the thick Northern accent she had grown to love. She had left him in the crypts, pouring over the inscriptions even though he must have seen them a hundred times before. Yet she knew it wouldn’t take long for him to come looking for her. After all, they had only met three months before and leaving each other’s sight from that day had proved an impossible task.

She looked at him as he came by her side, and smiled. “To hear you speak,” she said, “you’d think every rock in the North has a story to tell.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You shouldn’t be so dismissive of your own people’s history.”

She rolled her eyes at that, even though he did have a point. She had been born here after all, though she held very few memories of the North. Her family had moved when she was ten and from that time, it was Braavos she had called home. She doubted she would even be here if she hadn’t met an utterly charming and all too handsome Northern archeologist on a train ride to Volantis and promptly married him.

“Is this another one of those stories of the ice zombies and three eyed ravens you’re so fond of telling me right before I go to sleep?”

“No,” he said, coming closer to her and taking her hands between his own. He started rubbing them and blowing hot air between her cupped palms, warming her frozen fingers. Her smile widened, still surprised at the care he showed for her in such small ways that she wouldn’t have been able to think of.

“This is a story that takes place after the Long Night had ended and the Night King was defeated,” he said, his voice low. “It was the time of the Long Summer when the Targaryen queen had taken the throne and ruled the Seven Kingdoms on the back of her dragon. She was hailed as the savior of the realm and all soon forgot about the bravery of the Northern men against the army of the dead, of the warrior that mounted a dragon and beheaded the Night King with the aid of his cousin, The Three Eyed Raven. All had forgotten but one … because in Winterfell, there was still one that remembered and held fast to those memories.”

“Who?” she asked, trying to contain her curiosity although she knew sooner or later she would fall under the spell of his deep voice.

“A princess,” he said, kissing the tips of her fingers. “Beautiful and brave, with long flowing hair that shone like fine polished copper. Her name was Sansa Stark and she was the Lady of Winterfell.”

“Sansa …” she said in mocking disbelief. “Her name was Sansa …” He was good, she had to admit. Very good indeed.

“After the Long Night had ended, winter was soon chased from the lands and with the coming of the dragons, summer settled over Westeros. At first the people rejoiced, as they set upon the task to rebuild what the war had destroyed, rising their holdfasts again and planting crops. But, in time, the earth grew hard and dry and the rains did not come to quench them. Crops began to wither and die under the scorching blaze of the sun, rivers shrunk and lakes all but vanished.

It was this that brought the great sorrow upon the princess. Justly and ably she had ruled for ten years, from the ancient seat where her father had once stood. But the North was a barren place and summer did not take kindly to the little food it had to offer. As times grew hard for her long suffering kingdom and men’s bellies went empty, her bannermen began to pressure her to marry.

“Marry, my lady,” they said. “Join the North to a great house that will bring prosperity back to our lands.”

The princess refused at first. She had been a child of summer songs and love once, wishing nothing more than to marry a handsome prince and bare him sons. But life had snatched those dreams from her and left only sorrow in their place. Twice she had been forced to marry before and twice she had been humiliated and abused.

But her bannermen’s voices grew ever more insistent. Each day they would find her and gave her no peace, proposing one high lord and then another. In time, the princess’ resolve began to falter under their unrelenting assault.

“If I am to marry,” she told them, “let it be to a strong and capable man. Do not forget, my lords, that he who shall be my husband will also become your liege and lord and such qualities are not easily found.”

The bannermen fell over themselves exalting the virtues of the man they proposed, one voice giving way to another until they seemed but a hive of agitated wasps, flying ever more dangerously close to her. She fought them as best she could.  

“I will not take the word of other men on the qualities of my future husband,” she finally said.  “I will see them for myself. We shall hold a tourney at Winterfell in 3 moons time. All those fit to bare arms are invited to join and the victor shall have my hand in marriage.”

Let the fates decide, the princess thought with a heavy heart. Let him be brave and strong and, if the Gods are not silent, let him be gentle too.  

But her bannermen were wily men, that could not be trifled with and for whom fates were but a child’s fancy. They pretended to accept the princess’ decision but in secret they sent out invitations only to the highest born of the land, their kin and allies, men they thought would rise their standing in life were they to become their lady’s lord and husband.

Winterfell had always been a beautiful place, with its sprawling court yards and glass gardens. Tall, proud walls of white stone rose high into the sky, springing rounded towers where they adjoined. Large, clear glass windows were cut deep into the walls, reflecting light and buried deep into the stone, a labyrinth of pipes pumped water towards the bathing house, giving the stone life and filling the outer walls with lush moss and ferns even as draught had dried all the greenery in the land.

The princess had loved it here once. When she was kept away, suffering at the hands of strangers, the thought of Winterfell had kept her hope alive, dreaming and praying to see it once more. But now, with all her family gone, with her bannermen watchful of her every move and the impending arrival of the Dragon Queen, who had insisted on joining the festivities, the hallways of her beloved castle seemed to close tightly around her, suffocating her. It was no longer a place of safety and refuge but a prison that kept her chained, at the mercy of other people’s whims.

As the contenders gathered in Winterfell, their high and esteemed coats of arms flung defiantly into the air when they passed through the gates, her bannermen’s ploy became clear. Still, as she stood in the court yard awaiting the Dragon Queen, her heart leaped into her chest anytime a new contender passed through the gates. Her eyes searched every new face to see if she could recognize the form that she hoped to find hidden beneath the armor. But all the men were strangers, some fair of face, others merely boastful and grinning with excitement. It made no difference to her.

The air was dry and hot that day. The trees of the ancient godswood twisted and shivered horribly as a gust of wind blew past. High above, the first screech of the dragon was heard, loud and piercing, and all the souls down below looked up to see the terrible sight before them. Black webbed wings that covered the sun flapped lazily as the great beast descended bringing its mistress down to the ground, making the earth shake beneath its huge talons. As it came down it gave a loud roar that had the people of Winterfell back away from its huge mauls and jagged teeth. Only the princess remained in place, her face marked in steel, holding her chin high against the raging mouth of the dragon.

As the Dragon Queen descended, the men and women of Winterfell bowed before her. But even as she bowed, the princess’ eyes roamed through the court yard where the queen’s retinue assembled behind her large, winged beast. Her stomach turned in painful knots. Surely he will come with her, she thought. The image of the long lost warrior standing once again in the court yard where he had grown and fought, filled her with longing but also despair for he would come to see her wed another.

Knights dressed in armor and savages wearing leathers came down from their great horses and the three headed dragon banner casted its large shadow over all of them. But her warrior was nowhere to be found and the princess’ heart grew heavy once more.  

As the first day of the tourney came, not even the skills of the puppet masters invited especially for the occasion could lessen her sadness. She sat on the dais, in the middle of the erected stands and watched as the tragic love story of Queen Naerys and her brother, Prince Aemon, the Dragonknight, was being played out.

The lords of her court knew of the princess’ love for the old tale and had brought the most skilled puppeteers in the land to honor her. But the whispered declarations of love and the Dragonknight crowning his love with the gilded flower crown held no more fascination for her now, for she knew the stories were false. Such things were to be dreamed of by the young who had not known loss or suffering.

All she could see were the men, high above the pretty colorful dolls, pulling on the strings in jerky movements, making the wooden creatures move about the stage in a ghastly dance, swoon and fall to their deaths with such aplomb as to make her shudder.

Still she did her duty and smiled, clapping now and again and chatting as amiably as she could to the Queen sitting next to her who seemed charmed by the spectacle of color and stiff dolls.

“One day, they will write songs of your own tourney, my lady,” she said.

The princess looked on as the stage was taken down and the limp dolls were carried off and nodded. “Perhaps … Let us pray I have equally skilled puppeteers to pull my strings when my time comes.”

The Queen was not wrong to note on the momentous importance of the Winterfell tourney. Tales of the princess’ beauty as well as the careful entreatment of her bannermen had brought no less than ninety-nine knights to the festivities. They were grouped according to rank and station, the noblest of them all competing against those of minor rank.

As the groups took to the field, standing on their horses on opposing sides, one sight, in particular, caught the attention and mirth of the audience. For standing alongside the lesser knights, was a fool. Dressed in steel as the rest he assuredly was but his motley patterned armor was colored in bright blues and reds and upon his head he wore a two horned helmet, adorned with bells at the tip. How he had managed to sneak in between such respectable company no one could say for sure. But fools were tricksters by nature, everyone agreed, and their amusement at the sight and the antics they would be likely to expect made them all agreeable to let the poor creature have his way.

Upon the signal of the trumpets, the knights spurred on their horses and rode to face off against each other, riding hard and fast until they clashed in the middle of the field in a frenzy of hooves and steel. Upon impact, many were thrown from their horses, their day of glory ended before it had begun but for those still mounted the fight went on through the afternoon.

The ground beneath them was dry and their fighting was so fierce and rough that dust rose all around them, engulfing them to the point where it was hard to tell man and beast apart. The sound of their horses was echoed by the grunts of the men and their cheers of victory every time they managed to defeat an opponent.

As one after another exited the tourney, the sounds dissipated until only the sporadic clinking of steel would announce the defeat of yet another contender. Finally, the dust began to clear and settle and to the audience’s great dismay only five knights remained mounted.

There was Ser Tywald Lannister, a man past his youth and strong of arm, who donned the red and gold armor of his house, one he had been raised to lead after the demise of his cousin Tywin and his children.

Ser Aegor Baratheon was also among them, a matter that enraged the audience although they did not dare voice their disapproval outright for they knew him to be the queen’s own preferred champion. But in hushed tones and whispers they called him by his proper name of Blackfyre, remembering that it was the queen that had granted him the ancient Baratheon name in order to take it from the bastard, Gendry Waters.

Lord Olymer Tyrell was as skilled with a lance as he was beautiful, with long golden hair and blue eyes that sparkled mischievously as he took down his helmet to gaze upon the princess as if he had already won the tourney.

The favorite among them was, without a doubt, Ser Harrold Hardyng, Lord Paramount of the Vale. The Knights of the Vale had steadfastly supported the North for centuries and their prowess in battle was legendary. The Young Falcon was handsome and charming, striking a dashing figure upon the field, to the approval of the ladies in attendance.

But the most outstanding turn of events was the identity of the fifth mounted knight. For it was none other than the fool. He stood tall and proud, with barely a scratch on his armor. As the five knights charged at each other again, meaning to settle the victory once and for all, the fool’s bells dangled in the air and clinked, causing the audience to burst with laughter.

But as soon as he raised his sword and fell upon Ser Aegor, all laughter seized. There was nothing amusing or awkward about the way the knight moved. He stood up in his stir-ups with ease and wielded the long sword as if he had been born to it. Ser Aegor was left with no choice but to retreat, holding his shield up to protect himself while he hunched over in order to stop himself from falling.

The fool’s ability and courage had even the princess gasping at his every movement. Enthralled, she watched him lean over the side of his saddle and cut the leather binding off of Ser Aegor’s horse. He then swiftly brought the pummel down upon the bewildered lord who came crushing to the ground with a loud thud that sent the crowd on their feet, cheering.

She found herself cheering as well, as her heart beat out of her chest only to freeze with horror as she saw Ser Tywald charging from behind, meaning to crush the upstart fool.

“Behind you!” the princess screamed, standing up from her seat. Her cheeks turned red as everyone in attendance took note of her reaction and sat down quickly.

“My lady favors the fool, I see,” the queen said with amusement, forcing the princess to swallow the choice remarks that were stinging her tongue. Yet she could not contain her sigh of relief as the brave fool heard her warning and turned around to face his foes.

In truth, she couldn’t quite tell what had sparked her reaction or her interest. Only that, perhaps, she was certain he had not come there at the bidding of her lords. Watching him as he rode in, fending off the lion’s charge with agile, almost effortless abandon caused her blood to sing and for a moment she was no longer the Lady of Winterfell, the daughter of murdered parents, the sister of fallen brothers or widow to untrue husbands. She was a young girl again, dazed by songs of chivalry and romance, watching a brave knight fighting to win her favor.

And fight her fool did until Ser Tywald’s strong arm began to slow. But just as he was about to claim victory, the great dragon began his dreadful song. He flew past the field, turning light to darkness and causing the dust that had settled to rise once again from the ground.

His piercing song continued loud and unabated and the princess saw with horror how the fool’s whole body began to shake. His sword slipped from his hand just as it was about to strike Ser Tywald from his horse and his arm fell slack at his side.

Seizing his moment, the Lannister fell upon the fool who desperately tried to fend off his attacks and pull on the reigns of his horse with his one good hand, trying to extract himself from the entanglement. If this was allowed to continue, the princess knew, he would be thrown into the dirt.

Without thinking, she rose once again from her seat and wordlessly bid the trumpeters to signal the ending to the day’s proceedings. They looked confused at the request but did their lady’s bidding nonetheless. The trumpets rang throughout the field three times putting an end to the fighting and drowning out the screeching of the dragon.

All four knights remaining looked up at her then but it was the fool she regarded most of all. “You have all fought bravely, my lords,” she said. “Rest now and enjoy the festivities. I look forward to your exploits tomorrow.”

Her decision had greatly displeased her bannermen and it took the better part of the afternoon to placate them. The Queen’s voice, however, drowned out all the rest in her displeasure at the princess’ decision. In secret she sent her men to search for the fool. As far as Hornwood and the Dreadfort they searched and yet could find no traces of him.

As for the princess, guards were instructed to escort her back to her chambers. For her safety, she had said. But as they urged her on through the corridors of her own home, she did not feel safe.

It was only when she locked the door to her chamber that she could breathe in relief. Despite it all, she could not help but think of the brave fool who had defied the high lords of Westeros for her.

She reprimanded herself for the thought. She did not know who the fool was, after all, and she had learned enough of men’s deceit to know that they are rarely who they appear to be. But still her mind wandered back to his deep and solemn bow to her from across the field. There was so little joy in her life now. What was the harm in dreams after all?

He did not remove his helmet as the other lords did, she noted and it intrigued her. A stubborn thought persisted in her mind but she chased it away as quickly as it came. It would be unwise to even dream of such a thing, she decided.

Soon the feast would begin and she needed to make ready. She busied herself with picking out her garments, settling on a long and modest Northern dress of green velvet embroidered with the direwolf sigil of her house. She had not worn it in years but she refused to dwell on why she decided to do so now.

As she went to her desk to pick up the pins she had discarded the night before, she noticed a most peculiar sight. Sitting on top of documents and books, was a beautiful, blue rose dripped in sparkling dots of ice. The princess picked it up with trembling hands.

Blue roses had grown in the glass gardens of Winterfell for centuries but she had thought them all gone since the dragons had returned. She brought the soft petals up to her nose and inhaled deeply. The sweet smell invaded her sense, almost making her dizzy.

It was perhaps the shock of seeing the flower again or a slip of her unsteady hands but one of the tiny thorns on the rose pricked her finger. The tiniest of blood drops fell upon the blue petals and it was as if the flower came alive. Fine silver threads snaked upwards, engulfing her. They moved and weaved around her, dancing in the fading sunlight as the princess looked on in amazement as what were only threads moments before became cloth.

When she turned to look at herself in the looking glass, she was draped in a magnificent silver cloak, so light that the slightest gust of wind made it bellow around her, the color so fine that it seemed as if the moon was floating above a sparkling lake. Entranced, she pulled the hood over her head to see what it might look like but before she could admire the sight, she found herself pushed towards the door, as if the cloak had a mind of its own.

Past the guards stationed at her door it took her, through the narrow hallways and into the Great Hall. Servants were quietly lighting up the last of the candles, bathing the room in pale silvery light that flickered and cast shadows on the walls. The long tables had been set up around the room and all manner of meats and vegetables placed upon them, their savory smells lingering pleasantly in the air. High up in the balcony, the minstrels were tuning their instruments as the guests began arriving, in groups small and large.

And yet, under the hood of her cloak, no one took note of her. The silver cloth carried her quickly through the hall as if she were a bird, floating and flying away, into the court yard and then further still until she found herself before the Broken Tower.

A single candle was flickering high above, from the last window atop the tower and the princess gave herself over to the cloak as it carried her through the winding staircase. By the time she arrived at the top she was breathless.

She moved about the rounded room trying to discern her surroundings. She had never liked it here and her stomach twisted as her shadow grew upon the wall. There was no light, save for the candle in the window and the moon above. It casted pale pools of light through the caved in roof.

“Hello?” she said, her voice echoing through the empty space. “Is there anyone here?”

There was no answer at first but when it came, the voice that spoke it sent shivers down her back. “I did not think you would come,” he said.

Her eyes searched frantically through the darkness, trying to find him. Next to the window, she saw a shape moving and she tried to focus on it but she could not make him out.

“Step into the light!” she commanded, trying to keep her voice steady.

He did as she bid and when the moonlight shone about his fair face, the princess’ resolve crumbled. It was the same, she noted. Long, solemn and guarded, a deep scar on his left side. The hair was the same as well: a pitch black unruly mane she had once run her fingers through.

But his eyes gave her pause. She had expected warm and gentle brown pools to gaze upon her but they were bright and fiery, as if flames were dancing inside of them. They frightened her and she stepped back.

“Do not go!” he pleaded. “I must ask you something.”

Ask her? What could he possibly have to ask her? He had abandoned all of them to leave with the Dragon Queen, never to be heard from again. Ten years had passed and he had not sent one word to her.

Not even when her younger sister, Arya, who had been as dear to him as any true sister could be, was threatened with death by the Queen for refusing to forsake her betrothed, Gendry, had he gone against her. When she ordered Gendry’s execution, fearful that his king’s blood marked him as a threat against her rule, he did nothing. And later when Arya had married her Baratheon bastard and fled Westeros, and the dragon had scoured the lands high and low looking for them, he remained silently at his Queen’s side, doing her bidding.

“You have no right to ask me anything.” Even as she spoke confidently, she could feel treacherous tears stinging her eyes, threatening to overcome her.

“I know. But I must ask.” He looked outside the window for a moment before turning to her. “The enchantment won’t last long. You can ask me three questions as price for one of mine,” he offered.

I have nothing to ask you, she wanted to scream. Nothing at all! But she found herself speaking nonetheless. “Who are you?”

“I am Florian the Fool,” he said, standing there in his motley armor.  “As great a fool as ever lived, and as great a knight as well.”

She remembered the story well. But it was only that: a story and she was no longer the young girl who believed in such tales. “Why are you here?”

“Because my curse must end where it began. A long time ago I stole a dragon. Took hold of his mind, used his fire to kill the Night King. When his brother discovered it, he bathed me in flame.”

She remembered well enough and her heart still twisted painfully at the memory. The black beast had seared the right side of his body. Left the skin bubbling and raw. Three moons it had taken her to nurse him, changing his bandages, holding his hand as the Maester peeled the dead skin away, sitting with him through the night as the fevers threatened to take him away only for him to leave as soon as he could get up from his sick bed.

“What you saw today on the field,” he continued, “happens whenever the dragon is near. My sword arm grows weak, the skin burns threatening to rip off my bones.”

He grimaced and the princess’ tender heart still softened, hearing of his pain. “What do you want of me?” she said, fearing what he might ask.

“Only what you are willing to give,” he reassured her. “Will you come away with me? Be my Jonquil and I will pledge my life to your service if you will but have me.”

The words washed over her, hot and cold at the same time, touching parts of her that she had hidden away long ago. Her whole body sprung with need but she did not move. “You are as brave as you are foolish, my lord. But I am the daughter of Lord Eddard and the lady Catelyn. I cannot give myself to a fool.”

She could see the pain that her words had caused in the lines on his face, the tightness of his jaw but he did not ask again. “You must help me then,” he said instead. “If I am to fight on the morrow, you will need to break the dragon’s curse.”

“I … I don’t know …”

“A kiss will break it.” He bowed his head and clenched his fist tightly. “If you can bare it.”

She regarded him for a long while, watching him clenching and unclenching his burnt fist. The skin wrinkled horribly and even in the pale moonlight, she could see the ugly pink and purple gashes. She remembered, too, his screams in the middle of the night, all that time ago and the deep red mark in the palm of his hand. Smoke would come out of it until the whole room smelled of burnt flesh. No, she did not wish that pain on him.

Slowly, she came by his side and took his hand. He flinched at the touch but did not pull away. His fiery eyes watched her as she turned his hand in the light of the window candle. The red mark was still there, sharp tendrils of smoke coming out and drifting into the air. She put her lips against it and, even though it burnt hot, she kissed it softly.

When she pulled away, the mark was gone and the fool sighed in relief, as if a great burden had been taken from him.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said, solemnly. “When I win the tourney, will you sing for me?”

She lifted her chin and spoke as coolly as she could: “Good fortunes, Ser Florian.”

She pulled her hood up and allowed the cloak to take her away, back to her chambers. As brave as the fool was, it was not he that the princess wanted.

That night the skies parted and the rain began to pour. It did not stop. As the second day of the tourney began, canopies had been erected to protect the high lords in the stands. Through the heavy vale of water, two knights came forth. Incessant and indignant at the fool’s audacity to defy his betters, Ser Tywald Lannister and Lord Olymer Tyrell had thought it only right to join their forces and crush him once and for all.

The princess sat on the dais, her hands digging into the arms of her chair, waiting for her Florian to appear and praying that his arm was strong enough to withstand his foes. But the fool did not show.

In his stead, a king dressed in armor of black and red, a three headed dragon emblazoned on his chest made his way towards the middle of the field atop a great black horse. His helmet was adorned with a simple, golden crown.

As soon as the trumpets signaled the beginning of the fight, Lannister and Tyrell charged ahead with murderous intent. The Dragon King did not move, waiting for them to come at him. The rains had the ground drenched and black water splattered everywhere as hooves dug deep on their charge.

The harder they pushed, the deeper their horses became entangled in the pools of black until they could advance no longer. Pulling as hard as they could on the reins, the knights tried to get their horses to move onward but all they managed was to cause them to slip, as they held on for dear life.

That was when the king fell upon them, punishing their pride and treachery. He drove his great black beast straight in between his two adversaries and moved swiftly, his sword arm striking again and again against their feeble attempts. Lord Olymer was the first to fall, as a wilted flower might drop from a shrub when the king used all his might to strike him in the chest. He used the length of his sword, wounding the lord’s pride more than his ribs as he came tumbling face first to the ground.

Such a shame, the princess thought smiling as Lord Tyrell struggled to stand up, mud dripping from his head. He was so very proud of his hair.

Ser Tywald proved a worthier opponent, managing to strike the king’s left arm as he turned to face him. His long sword left a gash in the armor and to the princess’ horror a thin stream of blood trickled from the slash.

As if it could sense this moment of vulnerability, the dragon appeared once more, circling the field, his song louder and harder than the day before. But it did not matter. The king payed it no minf as his sword clashed with Ser Tywald’s. As he pushed back against the Lannister’s brute force, the princess could not help but take pride at the thought that it had been her kiss that had given him the strength to fight as ably as he did.

It only took a small skirmish for the lion to attempt an ill-fated retreat. The king pursued him to the edge of the field of battle, striking him down in front of his own tent.

He rode his horse at leisure back towards the dais where the princess sat, while the crowd watched silently, some unsure of how to react, others, undoubtedly, disappointed at the loss of gold that they had incurred with the defeat of their champion.

But as the king passed in front of them, it was the Dragon Queen that rose to her feet to stare him down. Sansa’s breath hitched in her throat at the violent expression in her eyes and the fire that assuredly burned on the inside, threatening to overcome her.

“That is enough! Dismount!” the queen commanded, in a thunderous tone and as mighty and strong as the king was, it took only those words for him to submit.

“Lay down your sword and kneel!”

If the princess had any hopes that he might refuse, they were soon dashed as her king laid his sword on the ground and fell to his knees, as limply as a puppet cut off from its strings.

“Seize him!” she ordered at last.

Get up. Run! the princess urged wordlessly but it was no use. He remained kneeling on the ground, as if chained in place while the queen smiled victoriously. From the stands, guards rushed to the field ready to take him away. And he would have gone with them, as a lamb might go to slaughter, if she had not spoken.

“My queen,” she said. “The knight is attending the tourney under guest rights.”

The dragon queen turned to look at her then, suspicion and surprise etched on her face.

“No knight that attends this tourney,” she went on, addressing the guards, “may be taken unless he has committed a crime. To break guest rights is a grievous sin, sers.”

The queen had changed many things in the realm once she had conquered it, but she could not change men’s hearts or fears. They all knew the princess spoke the truth and were reluctant to damn themselves over a foolish knight whose only crime had been to wear a crown.

Angry, the queen turned on her heels and left. But once the crowds were dismissed and the princess made her way back to the castle, she came at her, probing and asking so many questions that it became all too clear that she had guessed the knight’s true identity. She, once again, sent her men to search for him. This time they went further than in search of the fool. The Last Hearth itself they reached but could find no traces of him.

When she arrived safely back to her chambers, the guards heavy on her heels, the queen’s words still rang in the princess’ ears. Why would he wear the colors of my own house and pretend himself a Dragon King unless to defy me? She feared for his safety and her own but the fragrance of the winter rose called to her as sweetly as a lover’s whisper and her nerves quieted as she found it laid on the desk before her.

She readied herself for the night in a dress of misty blue silk, adorned with rubies as would befit an audience with a King. When she was done, she took the rose and pricked her finger without hesitation, for now she knew that no magic ever came without a cost.

The small droplet of blood disappeared through the petal folds and in its stead a fine golden dust rose. It settled on her chest, her neck, it ran down her arms as gentle as summer rain, pooling on the ground beneath and rising once more until it formed a cloak of glittering gold, more magnificent than any cloth the princess had ever seen.  

The moon was already high up in the sky as she glided through the castle as swiftly and silently as a ghost. Past the guards singing a bawdy song and the kitchen maids fetching water for the guests she went, until she entered the Great Hall.

The music rang loudly and people danced all around her, spinning and jumping heartily, bathed in the golden light of the iron wrought braziers. The princess carried a sad sort of smile looking at the happy faces of young girls being picked up by their suitors and spun into the air, her heart longing to feel such lightness again. At the long tables the high lords sat, fat and satisfied, as they feasted on choice meats and roasted vegetables and the cup bearers filled their mugs with ale.

The cloak did not allow her to dwell, however, whisking her away outside, through the court yard. The rain poured all around her making her cloak glisten in the moonlight but she did not feel it. As the Broken Tower came closer into view and she saw the flickering candle perched in the window, she found her heart beating to the rhythm of the distant drums of the Great Hall she had left behind.

The long walk up the stairs felt like an eternity but finally she arrived back in the rounded room. As she walked towards the window, the darkness and the movement of her shadow upon the wall did not frighten her as much as it had done the night before. Nor did she call out for she could see the shape moving in the darkness just in front of her.

The King stepped into the pale moonlight, the simple crown still atop his head and gazed upon her, his posture hard and his eyes burning aflame. Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of him. His hair was slick with rain and his beard covered in shimmering water drops. She longed to run her fingers through the curls at the back of his neck, trace the skin upon his fair face with her fingers but his fiery, red eyes gave her pause.

“Who are you?” she asked, breathless.

“I am Aegon Targaryen,” he said.  “The rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I made a choice and that choice was taken from me. Winterfell was my home once. There was no place in the world I loved more. No other place where I wanted to be and I swore that once the war was over, I would never leave it again. But on the last night I was here, the queen came at me as I lay in bed. She said that, as punishment for deceiving her and taking her dragon, she would take something from me. I did not know what she meant then ...”

Tears pricked the princess’ eyes as she remembered the Dragon Queen hovering over his weakened and burnt body. She had sent her away from the room with a curt command but she has lingered behind the door, fearing the queen might hurt him. She could have never imagined that a few hours later, he would rise from the bed and follow her South without so much as a farewell.

“When morning came and she told me I was to come with her, I found that I could not refuse her, my body and my mind no longer my own.”

As his words registered, relief overcame her. He had not left her after all. Not willingly at least. Her heart leapt as she asked: “What do you want of me?”

“Only what you are willing to give,” he said, his voice tinged with hope. “Will you come away with me? Be my queen and the whole of Westeros will kneel at your feet.”

Part of her wanted to go to him then, curtsy as she had been taught to do as soon as she could walk and thank him for the honor of his proposal. But her feet would not move and she bowed her head sadly. “You are as brave as you are noble, Your Grace. But I am Sansa Stark, blood of the North and of the First Men. I cannot be a Dragon’s queen.”

His eyes closed sadly against her implacable words. “She knows who I am now,” he said. “Grant me your kiss so I might fight on.”

That she would do gladly for he was never meant to be chained. As she approached him, she remembered their last night together, the specks of ash that had come out of the queen’s breath and the way he had rubbed at his left eye all through the night, until it turned red and swollen.

Her hand cupped his cheek then and he leaned into her touch just enough for her knees to go weak. She kissed his eyelid softly and tenderly, feeling him tremble beneath her touch. A single black tear fell upon his cheek and when he opened his eyes, the fire in them had been extinguished.

She smiled for she recognized those eyes now: warm and kind, gentle pools of brown and amber that gazed upon her so intently as to make her quiver.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said, bowing to her. “Will you grant me your song if I am victorious on the morrow?”

Her voice was but an uncertain whisper: “Good fortunes, Your Grace.”  

She lifted her hood and gave herself over to the cloak that carried her back to her chambers. She had wanted to be queen once and wear a beautiful crown upon her head, sitting on the left side of her beloved King and husband. But as magnificent as the Dragon King was and even as the feel of his warm skin lingered on her lips, it was not he that the princess wanted.

During the night, the first of the summer snows fell. By morning, the field was covered in a heavy blanket of white. All the world, it seemed, had fallen still and quiet as the lords and ladies huddled in their furs for warmth, waiting for the final battle to commence. The queen shivered on her throne, her face barely concealing the discomfort.

The princess, however, did not mind the cold. She looked around in wonderment at the thin sheets of ice that formed upon the wooden stands, the icicles dripping from the canopies and the pure white snows of her childhood memories that glittered in the sunlight so beautifully. It was all so perfect that she thought it an enchantment.

Soon her untouched snow was tainted by heavy hooves marking the ground as Ser Harrold Hardyng advanced, dressed in his polished steel armor and helmet adorned with the falcon and the half-moon sigil of his house. Proud and tall he stood upon the field as he waited for his opponent.

When the man showed, he was no longer fool nor king. He was a warrior drabbed in a simple armor of stiff brown leather, save for his steel breast plate marked by two direwolf heads facing each other. His head was uncovered for all to see him, his hair tightly pulled at the back but none of the lords in attendance seemed to take note of it.

No one but the princess and the queen knew him and while one regarded him with warm, blue eyes, the other burned and seethed with barely contained rage.

As soon as the trumpets rang, the two men charged at each other, swords unsheathed. When they clashed in the middle of the field, the ringing of their steel pierced through the air as thunderbolts. They circled each other again and again, hitting shield and sword alike, in a dangerous dance that had the princess terrified.

When Ser Harrold pushed his sword forward it landed inches away from the warrior’s cheek and it became hard for her to breathe. Thankfully, he jerked his horse at just the right moment, avoiding the blow and quickly striking hard against Ser Harrold’s shield.

So hard was the blow, that the Vale knight’s shield broke in two and he staggered back loosening his grip on the reins of his horse. As the warrior came at him again, the animal spooked and rose on his back legs to defend himself, sending the Young Falcon to the ground unceremoniously, his helmet flying off his head.

The audience gasped at this sudden turn of events. Was the tourney over? they wondered. Their favorite had been dismounted and yet they were not prepared to give up their claim.

The princess’ rejoiced, preparing to stand up at once and declare the warrior the victor of the tourney and of her hand but, as always with brave men, things were never simple for the women that loved them.

A moment passed and the warrior dismounted. “Stand up, my lord,” he commanded. “I will not let a horse claim my victory.”

Bewildered, Ser Harrold scrambled to his feet, retrieving his sword from the snow. The warrior waited until the knight was good and ready but when he finally came at him, he parried his attack with ease, striking at the sword and swiftly moving out of the way as the Falcon drifted forward, hitting at air. Again and again, he tried to catch him but his sword met only the falling snow.

Only when he tired, his sword heavy as lead in his hand, did the warrior strike back. His response was hard and brutal. The white wolf pummel of his great Valyrian sword hit Ser Harrold flush in the stomach and he fell to his knees. He stood over him and asked: “Do you yield, Ser?”

The Young Falcon still had some fight in him and he stood up, on trembling legs, pushing forward with a loud grunt. So weak was his assault that the warrior pushed him back with one arm while the length of his sword hit at his calves sending the knight on his knees once more.

He placed the tip of his sword against Ser Harrold’s neck, forcing him to look up. “Do you yield?”

The proud lord’s eyes still held the look of defiance about them but when the warrior lifted his sword, meaning to strike him again, he grew desperate enough to lift his hands and scream. “I yield!” he said, terrified. “I yield!”

Ser Harrold was spared that final blow and the warrior lowered his sword slowly, before turning to face the princess.

Even from the distance, she could feel his eyes upon her, warm and full of longing and she smiled wildly. He had come back to her and she would never more be alone.

She wanted to ran down to him that very moment, embrace him and welcome him home but before she could do just that, the queen spoke out, in a hard cruel tone.

“That was quite the performance,” she said. “But the time for tomfoolery is over, ser. Kneel!”

The warrior stood still, his frame proud and unbending. “The only queen I plan on bending my knee to sits beside you,” he said.

“Why have you come here?” she barked. “What do you want?”

“I want only what was promised,” the warrior said, looking at the princess. “Lady Stark’s hand in marriage.”

A cruel smile spread across the queen’s face. “But that is impossible, ser. You are not worthy of such an honor.”

As her bannermen joined the queen in voicing their protests, the princess stood up quickly and faced them. “I have made a pledge, my lords, that the man who won the tourney would become my lord and husband. Upon my word as a Stark, I will honor that pledge!”

Her bannermen came at her then, speaking and whispering in her ear. “You must reconsider, my lady,” they said. “This man is not worthy of you. Who is he to deserve such a prize?”

“Do you not remember, my lords?” she said, smiling tenderly at her warrior. “He was your king once. He ended the Long Night and saved you and your children from the army of the dead.” With pleading eyes, she beseeched them: “Do not forsake us now, my lords, as we did not forsake you.”

But the bannermen were blind to their lady’s entreatments, all memory of the warrior long gone from their minds. “This man is nothing to us,” they said.

“Listen to your lords, child,” the queen said, her cruel smile still dancing upon her lips. “This man is nothing but a cur and a liar. It was surely deceit that won him the tourney.”

“The queen speaks truth,” the lords agreed. “It must have been his vile tricks that defeated the brave Ser Harrold. Otherwise how could one like him win against the Lord Paramount of the Vale?”

The princess could barely contain her disgust at the treachery of her vassals. Her last hope rested with the Young Falcon and she turned to the man who stood upon the field, still doubled over from the blows the warrior had handed him. “Is this true, Ser Harrold? Were you defeated by tricks and deceit?”

The Falcon hesitated for a moment but when he looked up at her, his face was a mask. “It is, my lady. I am quite certain of it.”

She swallowed back the bile at his untrue words and she regarded him coldly. “I had always thought you an honorable man, ser. I see now that I was mistaken.”

“I am sorry to hear of your low opinion of me,” he said, standing up straighter, his dull, blue eyes filled with pride. “I hope that once we are married, I will be able to remedy that.”

The princess swore as loud as she could that she would never marry him but the queen’s power seemed stronger than her will. “The lady is tired,” she announced, signaling her guards to come for the princess. “Please see her safely back to her chambers. She must make ready for her betrothal to Ser Harrold tonight.”

As the guards grabbed hold of her, her bannermen stood to the side and allowed them to drag her from the stands.

Only her brave warrior spoke out. “Unhand her!” he commanded and unsheathed his sword, running towards the dais.

“He means to attack the princess!” the queen shouted for all to hear. “Stop him!”

Before he had managed to reach the stands, soldiers and lords alike ran towards the field, intent on capturing him. As she was being dragged away, the princess looked back. Run, she thought. Run!

The warrior hesitated for a moment but, as she slipped further and further from his grasp, he finally turned and ran back towards his horse.

She could hear the clicking of steel as he fought to get away from the field and through the corner of her eye, she saw him ride away, as the queen’s men gave chase.

The princess did not struggle against the vice like grip of rough hands that dug into her flesh, when the guards pulled her back towards the castle. It did not matter now. They could lock her up behind a hundred walls. A thousand locks they could put on the doors. It did not make a difference. When night came, she would go to him and he would be waiting for her.

The sun had already set when the guards pushed her inside her chambers and instructed her to make ready for the feast. Unable to wait a moment longer, she went to her desk and picked up the blue rose that had been left for her. She caressed the petals gently before pushing her finger against one of the small thorns peppered along its stem. She let the drop of blood fall unto the silky folds, leaving a trace of red upon the blue as it slided downward.

She waited for the magic of the rose to rise and engulf her but as moments turned into hours, tears feel on the petals where the blood had once been.

Cry as hard as she could and stare at it for as long as she did, the rose still would not yield. There is no magic left, she thought, bitterly. She had healed his hand and his eye, lifted his curses and he had given her but a rose for her troubles.

When the guards pushed the door open, they found her sitting on her bed, dressed in her maiden clothes. Dutifully she had labored for months on them, with an unwilling hand. The heavy light grey cloth of her dress rustled and moved as she stood up, the weirwood branches embroidered on the skirts, glittering in the candle light from the mother of pearl beads she had patiently sown into the stitching.

Upon her shoulders she wore her maiden cloak. It was not cloth of silver or gold, but the white furs that encircled her neck gave her a dignified pure look that queens would envy. A large direwolf head was embroidered with silver thread upon the back, so determined was the princess that she should walk a Stark to her unwanted wedding. And in her hands she still held the small blue rose. It burnt her, scorned her and yet she could not let go of it.

As the guards escorted her to the Great Hall, her feet dragged upon the stone floor like a prisoner before an execution. But walk she did, holding her head high, her face still and quiet, unwilling to show her pain.

The queen and her bannermen had taken great pains that night to turn the austere Stark hall into a truly joyful, lavish place. Sumptuous silks had been placed upon the long tables and the chairs were decorated with wreaths of pine and winter flowers. Guests feasted on exquisite golden plates filled with delicacies brought from all corners of the seven kingdoms and so many candles had been lit that the whole room seemed bathed in warm light. The best minstrels in the North had been commissioned to play that night and their sweet songs filled the Great Hall, beckoning the guests to dance and swoon to the rhythm of lute and drums.

But as the princess was made to sit on the left side of Ser Harrold, the man whom others had proclaimed to be her betrothed, she found no beauty in any of the finery. Stiff she sat, feeling as if it was all but a cruel joke, one to be enjoyed at her expense. And none was more hateful to her than her betrothed. Proud and fawning as a peacock, he laughed and cheered with the lords around him, looking back at her from time to time with dull, blue eyes.

She turned her face from him, staring blankly ahead, not wanting to look upon his lying lips or think of what would come once morning broke.

The feast went on and the guests began to forget that she was even there. Her mind drifted as she aimlessly toyed with the rose in her hands, bruising her fingers but feeling nothing at all. Her thoughts turned to the Broken Tower where the fool and the king had waited for her, imploring her to come away with them.

Will you grant me your song, he had said. It was the one question she had not answered. I don’t know any songs. But she had known them once … A long time ago, her heart had been filled with them.

His question lingered in her mind, melding to the tune of the minstrels. Your song … grant me …Will you grant me your song?

Her feet seemed to know what to do before her mind did and she stood up, drawing the attention of the guests on her. Slowly the music died down as she made her way to the center of the hall. She looked up at the minstrels, sitting in their alcove. “The Winter rose,” she said.

The soft, winding tune began and for a moment she feared her voice would break but as she began to sing, a steady, crystal clear sound came out, so sweet and tender as to make grown men weep.

The spring was clear and it was here

Where Bael took his lady of the Winter

Her spirit wild, heart of a child yet gentle still

And quiet and mild and he loved her

 As her song began in earnest, the fragrant smell of the rose she was holding began to rise and float about the room. It settled on the silky table cloths and on the choice meats. Men ate it from their plates, and drank it with their ale, breathed it in their lungs. So sweet a flavor it was that they could not get enough.

And he would say:

“Promise me, when you see

A blue rose, you’ll come to me.

I love you so, never let go.

You will be my Winterfell rose”

 Lulled by the princess’ song, they stretched their limbs and laid back in their chairs. Even when the minstrels’ instruments began to creak and then fell silent, they did not notice. Their arms grew heavy and they sighed in contentment.

When all was done, he turned to run

Fading with the rising sun, as she watched him.

And ever more she thought she saw

A glimpse of him upon the snows forever.

 The princess’ voice grew stronger and bolder, like the gleeful song of a skylark in spring and she smiled as she saw her bannermen and all the queen’s men stretching out before her, heads on tables, drifting blissfully to sleep. The queen herself struggled to remain awake but finally gave in, her head gently laying against her pale white arms, an innocent, childlike expression on her face.

And she would say:

“Promise me, when you see

A blue rose, you’ll come for me.

I loved you so, a long time ago,

When I was your Winterfell rose.”

 Her voice echoed through the silent Hall long after her song had finished. All around her, the lords and ladies of Winterfell lay on the stone floors, spread out in their finery. Guards had fallen asleep on their posts, servants had laid down their serving trays and huddled in corners. On her golden throne, the queen slept, sighing from time to time as if in the midst of a sweet, summer dream.

 The princess pulled the hood of the furred cloak over her head and ran out of the Great Hall. In the court yard, squires and stable boys, horses and dogs alike slept in the frozen hay and not a sound was heard, save for the snoring of the dragon, coiled atop the Hunter’s Gate.

 Man and beast mattered not to the winter rose. All of the North slept that night as the princess ran towards the Broken Tower, gentle snowflakes dancing all around her, guiding her way.

 As she came upon the tower, she looked up towards the last window, expecting to see the candle flickering. But the window was dark and for a moment a sharp jolt rumbled in her stomach. It wasn’t until she heard the snicker of a horse, that her senses return to her. She ran, encircling the tower until she found him on the other side. He stood dressed in his brown leather armor, the sigil of their house still upon his breast as he gently patted his horse.

 When he heard the scrunching of the snow, he turned around and finally gazed upon her. His face lit up in such happiness that the princess felt as if his eyes alone could keep her warm and safe for the rest of her life. His arms stretched out and he ran half way towards her before she stepped back, smiling at him demurely.

 “Don’t I get three questions?” she asked.

 He stopped in his tracks, his arms falling at his sides but an easy smile rested upon his face and his eyes glimmered as he answered: “Of course, my lady.”

 “Who are you?”

 “I am Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell.”

 “Why are you here?”

 “I am here for you,” he answered, his voice strangled with longing. “You are my heart and no man can live without his heart.”

 “What do you want of me?”

 “Only what you are willing to give.” He came closer then, talking all the while in a low, hushed tone that made her tremble with joy. “Will you come away with me? I have no lands or titles but if you will have me, I will spend the rest of my life loving you.”

 Tears fell down her face as he came to wipe them away, his warm callused fingers gently tracing down her cheeks. “I am Sansa Stark, the Daughter of Winterfell,” she said.  “I have no need of lands or titles as long as I have you.”

 He sighed a ragged breath dropping his forehead to touch her own while his hands cupped her face. “Will you let me kiss you then?” he asked. “As you did on that last night?”

 She closed her eyes and nodded slowly, remembering the sweet taste of his lips on the night before he left when he had told her he was hers forever. He sealed his promise to her once more, as he tasted her lips, melting the snowflakes off her skin. He lingered in his gentle kiss until she felt weak in the knees and her hands wrapped tightly around his neck to pull him close, the blue rose she was clutching falling upon the snows. She made a promise of her own then. She would never let him go again.

 When morning came and the people of Winterfell awoke, the North remembered. They remembered their brave king and the Three Eyed Raven and how they had ended the Long Night. In vain they searched for their beloved princess and her warrior and great was their sorrow when they could not be found.

 None was as sorrowful as the queen, however, and none as angry in their grief. Her guards were dispatched across the seven kingdoms to find the lovers but none ever came back with news of them. So great was her fury that she took to her dragon and bathed Winterfell in fire, knocking down its white walls, flinging open its gates, raining blazing storms upon it until it fell in ruins and ash.

 But try as hard as she might, she could not bring down the Broken Tower. The place that had been her bane and her shame stood proud against her dragon’s flames and from the snows where the princess’ rose had fallen, strong, thick vines spread across the stone, blue roses blooming from fire and ice.

 From that day until this day, the blue roses bloom in Winterfell and, as long as they are here, the North will always remember,” he said, at last, dropping another kiss to her fingers as he finished his story.

 His voice still held her in its spell and she was unwilling to break it just yet. “And what of the princess and her warrior?”

 “All traces of them disappeared from Westeros but, further into the North, in the Lands of Always Winter, the free folk still tell stories about them. Of how they hid them in their caves and warmed them at their fires and how on a winter’s day, much like this one, their king, Tormund Giantsbane, took them to the place where the last remaining weirwood tree stood, to be married.”

 “So they lived happily ever after?”

 “They did.”

 “That’s nice,” she finally said, her arms curling around his waist. Her head rested against his chest and she hummed. “I liked this story.”

 He pressed a kiss to her forehead and held her close. When they parted, he stretched out his hand and plucked one of the blue roses from the tower’s vines. Carefully he picked off all the thorns before placing it in her hair. “The blue looks pretty with your red hair,” he said.

 She rewarded him with a wide smile and grabbed him by the waist again as they began to walk away from the tower. “Let’s go home, Jon,” she said.

In their wake, a chink of ice fell from where Jon had picked the flower and a new blue rose bloomed to take its place, filling the air with sweetness.

* a final disclaimer on this: I’m absolute crap at poetry! I can’t write it, my brain explodes when I attempt the simplest of rhymes but I really, really wanted Sansa to sing in this and I wanted to show what she was singing. So I used the song below as inspiration and just changed a few words around to fit with the story of Bael the Bard. So I essentially used it wholesale! :))))

Please check it out. It’s a beautiful song and Ritchie Blackmore is a freaking genuis!

#jonsa #actually jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fanfiction #jonsaff #anti-daenerys #jonsasecretsanta2018 #sansa stark #jon snow #the winter rose #jonsasecretsanta

[thewayoftheshadow]

Space Orcs: Bees

Everybody knows what a bee is.  I don’t mean a bumble bee or a wasp, which many people call a bee.  I mean a plain old honey bee.  Bees are very beneficial.  They do way more work and contribute to so much more than most people think.  Currently on our farm we have three bee hives that we started this spring.  Caring for a new hive is sometimes difficult and constant work.  There are also many safety procedures that must be followed for both the beekeeper and bees health.

How would an alien react to bees and beekeepers in general?  What would they say when they find out how one sting can cause pain for a week or even be life threatening to some?  How would they react if they found out that a single hive can house around 60,000 bees?  What would they say about the lengths that people go to keeping a hive alive even if it kills them?

Here’s my take on it:

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Year: 2863 Region: Greater-Sol Planetary #: 3 Time: 1200 Earth-UTC

A farm in the North-Western Hemisphere of Planet 3: Earth.  A human and her alien friend are on leave for two weeks on the humans, Sarah, parents farm.

Sarah: Now that you’ve seen the chickens lets go see the bees next.

Ysiz: What is a bee?  Is it similar to a chicken?

Sarah: No no no, they’re nothing alike.  Bees hurt much worse than chickens when they’re angry.

Ysiz: Why do all of the earth animals wish to hurt you?  Have you not domesticated them?

Sarah: Oh these are domesticated.  Only thing is we cant domesticate bees.  There are too many of them.

Ysiz: More than the chickens?

Sarah: Oh yeah, try about half a million.

With this, Sarah leads her hard shelled companion over to what humans call a shed to get ready to go to the bees.

Sarah: This may sound personal, but do you have any fleshy bits like humans? or are you all shell?

Ysiz looks at Sarah and wonders why she would ask something so strange.

Ysiz: I can assure you I have no ‘fleshy bits’ as you put it.

Sarah: Good, you wont need a bee suit.

Sarah then takes out this strange white jacket with an attached hood and mesh netting.  She puts on the jacket, throws the hood over and does up the series of zippers and Velcro patches to make sure that no bees can crawl into the hood.  She then reaches down and pulls her socks over her pant legs.

Sarah: This is to keep the bees from getting under my clothes and doing me, or themselves, any harm.

Ysiz: They can harm themselves?

Sarah grabs a pair of thick elbow length goatskin gloves and puts them on.

Sarah: They harm themselves by harming me.  When they sting me their stinger gets stuck in my skin and rips out of them. They tend to die rather quickly after that.

Ysiz: They have stingers? Did you not say that there were half of a million?  You are crazy for keeping that many bees.

Sarah: Yes half a million, about 50,000 per hive box. Also the stinger is there for attacking anything that is perceived as a threat to the hive.  To some it can be painful for a couple days.  But if your really allergic it could kill you if your not treated fast enough.

Ysiz says nothing but shakes xers head while Sarah grabs a metal tool with a small hook on it.

Ysiz: So, what will you be doing with these bees then?

Sarah: Today ill just be checking for the queen bee to see if the old one is still there, she should be getting close to three years old.

Ysiz: They have a queen, so they must be like the Ulhilm species from the sector next to my home sector.

Sarah: Not quite, just follow me and I’ll show you what they look like.

After a brief five minute walk Sarah and Ysiz arrive at the collection of hives all lined up.

Sarah:  Before we get closer, don’t stand near or in front of the hives.  They have a specific distance in front of the hive that they need when they fly out.  Don’t obstruct it, they will sting sometimes if your in the way. Just stay beside or behind me and you will be fine.

Sarah pry’s the lid off the closest box and is immediately greeted by a constantly moving sea of bees and a low humming sound.

Ysiz:  Do you hear that Human-Sarah?  They are making a noise, they may think we are predators.

Sarah: Nah, its ok.  That’s just the sound of thousands of bees beating their wings.  They’re doing something called fanning.  It moves the air around inside and helps keep them cool.  Go look at the front and you can see there are some by the entrance doing it.

Ysiz  peers over the top of the box and sees tens of bees facing away from the hive and moving their wings very fast to filter hot air out of the hive. Xe turns around and sees Sarah holding a large frame covered in bees and a strange geometric pattern.

Ysiz: You were right about the bees Human-Sarah, there are many of them.  What is this pattern they have made?  It is different colors.

Sarah: Its called comb.  They use wax and create this comb to store things in.  They store their brood in the comb as well as food, called honey, and pollen.  When they have an abundance of honey we take the comb and extract it and use the honey ourselves.

Sarah sits in silence for a few minutes and keeps pulling frames out and putting some back before she reaches for the middle frames.

Sarah: Right now I should be close to finding the queen, she likes to sit closer to the center to lay eggs.  She looks a little different from the rest of the bees, but not by much.

A few minutes pass before Sarah is excitedly telling Ysiz to look closer at the frame.

Sarah: Look right there, that’s the queen.  She has a red dot on her back that was painted on when we got her a couple years ago.

Ysiz: She dos not look different from the other bees.  They all look the same. Except that one and that one, they are slightly bigger.

Sarah: That would be a drone. Its a male bee that mates with queen, they don’t really serve any other purpose. Also, she is slightly different, she is larger than the workers and a bit longer.

After Sarah finishes the last hive she walks back to the shop with Ysiz in tow while pulling off the beekeeping gear.

Sarah: Wow it gets hot in that get up.  If only it wasn’t so hot today.

Ysiz: I am confused Human-Sarah.

Sarah: About what?

Ysiz: Why would you maintain something that is hard to maintain AND can kill you?

Sarah: Well, bees cross pollinate flowers and crops.  Without bees life on earth would be very different if not there anymore.  Their cross pollination when they gather pollen helps with the diversity of the genetics of plants.  They essentially spread seeds from plant to plant.

Ysiz: So they are very important.

Sarah: Like I said, life wouldn’t bee the same without them.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There ya have it, bees. This idea came to me at one in the morning after finishing some problems for one of my engineering courses.  So sorry if this seems to ramble on or jumps around at some points cause I’m a bit tired.  I wanted to get this one out before I forget it and kick myself later for not doing it.  Anyways,  If anybody finds any errors or areas of improvement let me know and I’ll be glad to make corrections!  Also, please let me know if you plan on writing about bees too or if you have, I’d love to see somebody else’s take on bees.

Also, here is a picture of the tool with the hook mentioned above: 

Its called a bee hive tool, or just a j hook. Its used to pry open the lid on a hive and scrape anything away, or up, that needs to be scraped. Due to propolis, which is kind of like bee glue, cementing the lid closed the tool is needed to pry the lid up.  The hook portion is used to lift the corner of a frame out so that you can grab it with your hands and lift it from there. I hope this was informative.  All of the stuff that was said by Sarah should be true unless I was taught wrong. In which case, correct me please!

#Humans #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #aliens #bees #writing idea #space #space orcs #HUMANS ARE WEIRD

[draginhikari]

Final Fantasy XIV: Azure and Crimson Section 1: Warrior of Light, Shadros Hiku Chapter 3: Return to Tam Tara Deepcroft

(Events take place after Patch 2.5 Before the Fall Part 1)

Shadros grumbled as he placed another new tile against the wall, mounting it into place.   He had only now gotten around to fixing his room after his previous tantrum from the Nexus Weapon vision.  It was obvious by the thick layer of dust coating most of the house, that Shadros had been mostly away since the incident. His work with Gerolt and Jalzahn had taken up the vast majority of his time since then but after so much work, the Zodiac Brave Excalibur and Aegis Shield were completed.  Though the weapons were new, the fact that they were born of his previous Relic Weapon meant the earlier visions had not ceased and still occurred for him on a regular basis.  Sometimes in the same order, sometimes different.  He had gotten used to them by now and focused on trying to memorize certain details. The random nature of visions, however, made it difficult to do so.  

Recent events with the Scions had complicated matters further for him beyond the visions.  During an investigation of the Agrius’ Wreckage he had been stripped of the blessing of his crystals of light by the Wyrmking, Midgardsormr, for unknown reasons. Midgardsormr was now using the stolen aether to create a new form which he was tailing Shadros around for equally unknown reasons.   Shadros grumbled. The last thing he needed was another ancient force tailing him around and the fact that he could say that so casually was more disturbing then the fact that it was actually happening.   The loss of the blessing resulted in a battle with the Ascian, Nabriales who took advantage of the loss to attempt to steal the Tupsimati from the Scions. Though Shadros was able to fight off the Ascian, even without the blessing and was able to destroy the Ascian with the help of White Auracite.  It only worked due to the sacrifice of Moenbryda much to Shadros’ own frustration.   As a result of her death, the Scions were a bit low at the moment.   Shadros had also received requests from Alisaie to complete their investigation of the Binding Coils, but he did not respond to her message nor to the messages of anyone else requesting his help.   He was too focused on his current situation and only got involved when the Scions directly requested his help.

Shadros sighed with relief once he finished the repairs on the wall before making his way to the chair near his new bed and took the Aegis to polish the metallic blue surface of the shield.   As he did so he would hear a knock on his door.   Shadros simply called out, “Enter,” Shadros heard the door open and shut, he didn’t bother looking up from he was doing, “What do you want? I’m kind of busy here.”

A female voice spoke up in a rather flowery tone and it took him a moment to recognize the voice as Aya, “It has been some time, my lord. I hope I can be of service to you today.” Shadros merely grumbled at the voice, “It’s about time you finally showed up.  What’s with the weird accent?”  Shadros looked up to ask, “Where the hell have you bbbbeeeeennnn…” Shadros stretched out his last word and fell backward in the chair falling flat on his back in shock.  Aya was no longer dressed in the merchant’s attire, but rather in skimpy looking black bikini that looked more like something a courtesan or escort would be wearing.  Shadros stumbled to his feet blushing furiously stammering out his next sentence very quickly, “Woman!  What the hell are you doing wandering around the Goblet dressed like that!?” Aya laughed returning to her previous tone of voice, “I needed to find you without raising suspicion.  People around here don’t tend to questions ‘service girls’ especially in Ul’dah of all places.  Privates matters and all that.” Shadros was flabbergasted at what he just heard, “The most subtle thing you could do… was to… pretend you were some kind of prostitute and wander casually into my house in board daylight where someone could clearly see you!?” Shadros’ volume escalated through the entire verbal thought process.

Aya said putting her hand together with a smile as if she were pleased with herself, “Seem like a flawless plan to me and besides the look on your face is completely worth it.” Shadros puts his hand to his face muttering through his fingers, “How in the hell are you still breathing in your line of work with that kind of thought process?   Please tell me that no one saw you coming in here.”  He was praying to the twelve that Una wasn’t in the Goblet at the time.  She would never let this go if she had seen Aya enter his house like that.

Aya chuckled some putting her hands on her hips, “For your information I can be serious when it comes down to the nitty gritty, but I prefer to have a little fun where I can from time to time.  You hard cases are always fun to mess with.”

Shadros began to wonder if he had made a mistake of hiring someone who didn’t ask for nearly as much gil as he expected.  Aya was making up for the low price tag by screwing around with him and it was pissing him off.   He threw one of the blankets from his bed at her, “Will you quit screwing around? For the sake of the Twelve put some damn clothes on.   Last time I checked I hired you to gather information not to dress up like a whore.” Aya caught the blanket sneering at him, “My, my how little fun you are. You’d be surprised what you can learn dressed like this. People can be easily swayed by a pretty face,” Aya returned to the silly voice for the moment though in a mocking tone this time, “If it displeases you, my lord, perhaps you prefer a different look if that is your will.” Aya performed a few hand gestures that Shadros recognized for the ninja mudras for the water spell, Suiton. A pillar of water shot up around her and when it disappear she was in a new attire which Shadros recognized as the standard Ninja Garb used in the east.  

Shadros noticed the water from her spell spreading out on his floor and grumbled, “Was that really necessary?” Aya stated clearly, returning to a more professional tone, “Well… no but it adds some flair to a boring job.”  Aya crossed her arms continuing, “Your kind of hard guy to find you know that?  I’ve been looking for you for days.” Shadros sat his chair back up clearly having had enough of her nonsense and stated plainly, “Will you just get to the point already?” Aya chuckled some, “I haven’t found this Wasp sect you are referring to but I did get some info on the group itself.   They call themselves the Hymn Venom order.  As far as I can tell, they’re not part of the main core of the Lambs of Dalamud but kind of a splinter group.  They were exiled from the main line shortly before the calamity.” Shadros crossed his arms and looked at her, “Weird that a blood cult like the Dalamuds would have objection to any belief or one that exists that would find appalling.” Aya waved her hand somewhat dismissively, “Not really the case. The cult worships lesser moon, Dalamud, and the voidsent they summon tends to be more for fulfilling that worship.   It seems the Hymn Venom order was less interested in the religious aspect of the cult and became more obsessed with the voidsent themselves. Their main goal is slowly becoming how to summon more and more powerful voidsent.   As you can guess, this did not go well with the rest of dogmatic order who viewed their obsession as blasphemy.   However, with the more powerful voidsent on their side it allowed them to protect themselves from the main group regardless of their smaller numbers. As such, they were left alone and exiled from the group. Apparently they continued their activity with the disguise of the Lambs however, basically allowing the main group to take the fall for most of their experiments.” Shadros stood up before asking, “So if you don’t know where they are then the trail has gone cold?” Shadros paused a moment before continuing, “Or is there something more to it?” Aya smugly put her on single hand on her hip, “Of course there is more to it.  What do you take me for? I have a lead you might be interested in.    At one time it is believed that the Hymn Venom order was involved in the affairs at Tam Tara Deepcroft prior Operation Archon. Apparently since the last incident in that area, the Wood Wailers have been investigating the area. According to my sources, some documents were left behind due to the restless spirits in the area that forced them to abandon the investigation.   Rumor is those documents are still there.” Shadros listened quietly having been involved in that ‘recent incident’ at the Deepcroft, he wasn’t surprised that the Wood Wailers would quickly abandon that place.  That was one adventure he would prefer not to remember.   Aya shrugged, “That place is still crawling with monsters so I couldn’t investigate further on my own. I’m good but I have my limits.  However, I figure that’s something someone like you would have no issue addressing.” Shadros took a deep breath and let out a sigh, “The Deepcroft is no place to play, but I just can’t bring any group to that place on this type of mission.” Shadros thought for a moment before saying, “I do know of a Dragoon that owes me a favor or two to accompany me. He’s a bit dense but he’ll keep his mouth shut as long as he’s paid well.”  He thought for another moment and sighed coming to the obvious conclusion, “I suppose I should bring Una in on the matter, she is at least an adequate healer as a whole in addition of her skills as a Bard.” Aya grinned, “This should be amusing.  I might as well tag along and see this through to the end.” Shadros stood up gesturing lightly at her hoping he didn’t regret this later, “Very well.  We’ll meet up in three days’ time in front of the entrance to Deepcroft.   Hopefully, I should be done with you once this is over with.” Aya rolled her eyes and said in a sarcastic tone, “My, my… my feelings are hurt.” Shadros turned his back on the Doman Ninja, “Just go, and try not to make yourself so damn obvious.” Aya would invoke a smoke screen and vanish filling the room with a faint smoky odor.   Shadros just grumbled some about the mess before going to find a mop to clean up the water left by her Suiton spell.   Shadros had only spoken to Una a few times since the previous incident and had been kind of stand offish with her as of late.   After finishing cleaning up, he decided to go speak with her.   After all, what’s the worst that could happen?  She couldn’t possibly still be mad at him, could she?

“Ow! Ow!   Una let go of my face!” Shadros had finally found Una at the market boards in the center of the Goblet but he couldn’t be anymore wrong about her not being mad.   As soon as she was in range she pinched and pulled on Shadros’ right cheek stretching his face out as far as it would physically allow.

Una hissed in an irritable manner, “You avoid me for weeks and the first thing you do is come here to ask a favor? You have a lot of nerve you entitled arsehole!”   She pinched his left cheek with her other hand also stretching it out simultaneously with the right making pain somewhat unbearable to continue to tolerate. As a Paladin, Shadros was used dealing with pain and normally would be unaffected by what Una did.   However having his skin continually stretched in that matter was clearly getting on Shadros’ nerves.  Having had enough Shadros grabbed Una’s cat like ears and pulled on them which made her screech, “Yeowch!  Hands off you bastard!” Shadros growled, “You first, cat girl!” Shadros pulled on her ears some more.  He had completely forgotten why he there for a moment once again allowing his interaction with Una devolving into pettiness and childish behavior.  

Una squeaked as Miq’ote ears were pretty sensitive to be pulled on, “What a cheap shot.  You call yourself the Warrior of Light and you resort to cheap shots!?  Hero of Eorzea, my ass!” She proceeded to drive her leg in between his.  Though his Paladin armor was fairly tough and the lower region was fairly well padded it was unavoidable that was going to hurt. Shadros slid down to a kneeling position with a horsed groan.  Shadros could hear Una laughing at him now, which only made him angrier.   In the moment, in act of vengeful immaturity, Shadros managed to get ahold of Una’s Tail and gave it a solid yank.  For a Miq’ote, that was probably about as painful as what Una had just done to him. Una yelped loudly and gripped the base of where her tail met her body, hopping a few times in place before leaning against a fence post, whimpering some from the stinging pain.   The two finally stopping moving and just stayed still for a few minutes while they worked out the pain. Shadros groaned beginning to push himself back up, “I think the pain has overwhelmed whatever anger I just had.” Una whimpered and obviously had little fight left for the moment, “Shadros, that’s fighting dirty, you creep!” Shadros groaned, “Look who’s talking Miss Low-blow.” The two would stay quiet for a while before Shadros grumbled, “Are you done being a brat now?” Una grumbled back, “If it will keep my tail in place then I will play along.” Una let go of her tail and crossed her arms leaning against the fence post, “So what do you want Shadros?” Shadros said, “I came to ask your assistance on a venture.   I need to investigate the depths of Tam Tara Deepcroft again.

Una lurched back at the mention of that place, “W-Why would you want to go back to that place?   Don’t you remember what happened the last time we agreed to go into that Hellhole?” She clearly remembered the Edda incident and Shadros was no more interested in reliving those events then she did.

Shadros crossed his arms, “Nothing like that. There is something I need to find that is rumored to be there.  Believe me, it doesn’t fill me with any amount of joy but I don’t have any other option.   This may be the only clue I have.” Una looked at Shadros, her expression of annoyance faded to confusion, “Clue to what exactly?   Shadros, you’re beginning to worry me.   You’re being even more secretive and withdrawn than usual.   If you want my help you better start giving me some answers.” Shadros sighed some putting his hand on the hilt of the Excalibur, “I am trying to find answers to my past… before Ul’dah… before all of this.” Una ears tilted down a little when he said that, “You still don’t remember anything do you?” Una remember the day she met Shadros in the alleyways of Ul’dah.   Though it was your average scrap against some arrogant punks, it was the way Shadros looked that was etched into her memory.   Shadros eyes were completely empty and seemed void of everything.  It was as if his mind had been wiped clean and he had been acting entirely on instinct.   She had never seen a person in that condition. All Una knew is that something horrible likely had happened to him that day before she encountered him. “Are you sure really sure you want to remember?  The past isn’t always what it’s cut out to be.” Shadros turned his gaze away some, “Certain factors have revealed partial information that I can no longer ignore.   I need to find the truth one way or another.  If you want to not go that’s fine.” Una shifted her body slightly. As much as she fought and argued with Shadros, she did know him extremely well and could tell when he was being sincere about an issue.   Una wouldn’t admit it out loud but she had to stand by his side through this troubling time.  “All right Shadros.   Sounds annoying as hell but I’m in.   What do you need me to do?” Shadros turned back to her, “I’ve hired a Doman Ninja by the name of Aya to assist with the venture.  I thought I’d bring Drakkon in as well.” Una squinted her eyes, “Why Drakkon?  I can’t stand the guy.” Shadros crossed his arms, “Because when it comes to battle he’ll get the job done and won’t ask too many questions.   We just need someone to be to prepare to heal if something goes wrong down there.   You’ve been practicing your skills as a White Mage have you not?” Una shrugged some, “Enough to keep people from dying I suppose.   All right, I suppose I can put up with the situation…” She gave Shadros a bit of an aggressive glare, “But if he touches my ass again I’m stringing him up by his legs do you understand?” Shadros chuckled lightly, “Very well.” Shadros returned to his normal composure, “Regardless both Aya and Drakkon aren’t exactly people I would depend on in a pinch.  It means enough for me to having you watching my back.” Una grumbled some and turned her head away as she blushed, “Will you not say such embarrassing things?  I said I’m going to do it and I will do it!”

Shadros nods, “Very well then we will meet again in three days,” He gave her a small smile and said, “Thank you again Una.” Shadros would turn and leave her be. Una grumbled and blushed more, “When did he start saying nice things like that?   Seriously!  What did this guy do with the real Shadros?”

Three days would go by fairly quickly for Shadros.   He arrived at the Deepcroft entrance at the arranged time.   Appearing to be the first to arrive, Shadros leaned against the wall in front the entrance merely waiting and wondering if Aya would even remember she had something to do today.  Not quite understanding how a shinobi could gather such difficult information while being as absent minded as she was or whether this whole persona she displayed was part of her act, he couldn’t really tell either way.   Regardless since he was paying her he hoped she would be more reasonable.

“Yo!  Shadros!” A voice called out snapping Shadros out of his daze.   Shadros looks up to see Drakkon walking into the area.   Drakkon was a rather scruffy looking Highlander that Shadros had worked with from time to time, though he didn’t particularly know much about the man outside of that.   The darkly armored Ala Mhigian could be brash and his fondness for women tended to get him in trouble on multiple occasions.   However, his skills with the lance could not be understated.

Shadros stood back up straight, “Good of you to make it.” He said rather plainly. Drakkon smacked Shadros’ shoulder in a heartily matter, “Good to see you. How are ya hardcase!?” Shadros grumbled some to himself, Drakkon tendency to be so cheerful and optimistic in the face of everything all the time always was something that pushed Shadros’ patience anytime he found himself working with the guy.  Drakkon chuckled, “What no sarcasm or snarky remarks?   You must be a good mood today.” Shadros groaned and shoves Drakkon off of his shoulder, “Ahh, back off already ever heard space, you blockhead.” Drakkon just laughed heartily at Shadros’ slight act of aggression.   Shadros simply resisted the urge to find out how much of an impact the Aegis would have on the Highlander’s face, “Just be quiet for a bit will you, once the Doman woman gets here I assure you there will be enough idiocy to go around.”

Drakkon chuckled with a shrug of his shoulders, “Sounds fun, anyway, what we are doing here exactly?  You hired me for this but didn’t really explain it.”   Shadros would lean back against the wall again, “We are seeking out some documents that were left here by the Lambs of Dalumnd.   According to Aya’s finding, these documents were left in the middle segment of the croft after to the Edda incident. Though the Deepcroft has mostly been quiet since then, the Twin Addler’s inability to return to the matter has allowed it to become repopulated with monsters again. It’s not quite as dangerous as the ones that were there prior though.   Our main task is simply to clear a path to the documents and stay alive mostly.” Drakkon chuckled punching his left palm with his right fist, “Beating down some monsters to get ahold of cultist books? Can do.   Though isn’t that kind of material usually outlawed?” Shadros simply waved his hand dismissively at his question as if to have Drakkon shush about that matter.   Drakkon chuckled some, “You’re still hiding something though.   These are no ordinary books are they?” Shadros said, “Unlikely to be anything of particular value to anyone other than myself.”  Drakkon seem confused by that statement, if the books weren’t valuable for any purpose, why bother?   Of course, Drakkon always found Shadros odd even among hard case adventurers.   Drakkon decided to drop the case as he could tell Shadros had no intention of telling him the specific reason.   Instead Drakkon smirked some and smacked him in the shoulder again.

“So this Aya chick you hired?  Is the spy work all you hire her for or…” Drakkon start to say. Shadros glared at Drakkon, “One suggestion of any kind and you’ll be eating sheet metal, understood?”

Drakkon chuckled and backs off again, “Gees, Shadros can you ever have fun with anything?   I mean all that time with Una and you haven’t even gotten a feel up on her? Bet that she would be a good…” Shadros glanced at him and interrupted, “I’d watch your tongue if I were you.   Una is still pissed at you for the last time you tried to get a ‘feel up’ on her… I will not be responsible if she literally rips your tongue out of your mouth this time” Drakkon laughed, “I’d have almost forgotten about that. It took weeks for those scratch marks on my face to heal after she clawed it up good… totally worth it though.  That Miqo’te is a fiery one.”  

Shadros just grumbled to himself. It bothered him to listen to Drakkon talk about Una like that but he just let it go, “I do not have time for such nonsense…”

Aya’s voice and giggle emerged from the darkness, “That’s probably a good thing. Someone as stiff as you would never lighten up enough to get any attention from a woman anyway.” Aya dropped in from the ceiling.   Shadros didn’t know where exactly she came from or how she did that but he did not care to ask.   Drakkon glanced up and down the Ninja’s body before commenting, “Very nice.” Shadros only groaned knowing well enough that it wasn’t her skill that Drakkon was admiring, rather the tight fitted and curve revealing ninja outfit that Aya was wearing.   Shadros never really understood why the Eastern Ninja garb for men of literally covered everything while the female version clearly designed to show cleavage and to display the upper part of their legs.  

Aya merely winked at Highlander rather mischievously, “Well, at least someone here recognizes excellence when he sees it.”  The whole thing made Shadros want to hurl frankly.   He simply wished for Una to arrive soon before the two drove him crazy.   It did help to remind him why he and Una had partnered for as long as they had.   For all their bickering and fighting they at least worked well together when things got serious.

Una would arrive on the scene dressed in the standard white robes with red diamonds patterns that was common for White Mages of Eorzea as well as the wooden staff she used as her weapon when she healing, “Hey Shadros, I’m here.” She moved her way towards the group.   Una wasn’t used to moving in the robes so she was a bit slower than normal.   Shadros seemed a bit confused as Una normally didn’t wear such long robes as she usually preferred lighter clothes for mobility sake.   In fact it was rare for Una to wear anything covered all of her skin period. Drakkon grinned and approached Una from behind, “Well hello there, Kitten.  Those robes really don’t suit you well.” Una lurched back some growling, “One wrong move Drakkon and I’m bashing your skull in!” Drakkon put his hands up in surrender, “Chill the claws there, Kitten.  Is that anyway to greet a friend?” Una groaned and her ears lowered slightly, “Shadros, do we really have to do this?”

Shadros just said, “We will try to get this over with quickly.  All right?” Una would nod and try to move forward accidently tripping on an unstable tile.   Shadros managed to catch her and stop her from falling, “Una, are all right?” He asked plainly. Una grumbled, “I hate these robes!” She blushed and moved away from Shadros quickly mostly to the hide the fact that she was blushing. Shadros simply shrugged and moved along with her

Aya put a finger to her chin, “Are these two always this thick?” Drakkon chuckled, “Only for as long as I’ve known them.”  The two would follow them forward.  The four would make their way into the Deepcroft entrance, coming out to the dimly lit tunnels of the Deepcroft.   Even though the vile air surrounding the Deepcroft has declined since the Edda incident, there was still a foulness to the air that still made Shadros’ stomach turn.   Shadros didn’t have time to think about it further as he suddenly forced to raise his shield to deflect the sting of a Diremite before swiping at the vilekin with his sword. Drakkon jump upward and skewered the Diremite’s head with his lance at once it was away from Shadros.

“Didn’t take long to draw attention did it?” Drakkon chuckled.

Shadros said, “I’m pretty sure that comes with the title…” The four would proceed down the path, dispatching the vilekin that stood in their way, though they would be trouble for any standard adventurer against this experienced group they were of little concern.  Shadros would stopped at the edge of one of the paths that looks like it had been destroyed by falling rocks since the last time he had been here.  

“Looks like this place is even more decrepit then it was before.” Shadros commented.

Una frowned, “The voidsend that were here before did a number on this place…”

Drakkon looks over the edge some, “Eh… I think I could jump that chasm.” Shadros groaned, “Don’t be an idiot even if you could it won’t do any good for you to run off on your own.  If I recall right there are hallways that go between these areas,” Shadros moved to one of the boarded off room kicking through to reveal the path ahead.   “We should be able to navigate to the next section from here but it’s likely unstable so we’ll need to be careful.” They would make their way slowly into the tunnel, cautiously walking down the path.  However, as they made their way Aya would stop for a moment.

“Do you guys smell sulfur?” Aya asked.

Drakkon stopped tilting his head slightly to side, “You know it does it does smell familiar.” Shadros groaned some recognizing it immediately. Angling his head upward slowly, his eyes slid to gaze at a glowing Bomb that was jammed between some of the rocks in the ceiling. Though it was glowing faintly it appeared to be active enough, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” The bomb gave an angry look at the four but didn’t seem angry enough to invoke a self-destruct, “We need to move quietly and quickly.” Drakkon chuckled some, “That thing is so small.  What’s it going to do puff out a bit of smoke?” He would proceed to prod the bomb with the flat end of his lance a couple of time.   The bomb glowed more brightly and began to grow larger cracking the stone around it.  It was growing far larger than it should have been able to. Aya began to run, “Good time to get out of here!” Shadros also began to run, “God damnit, Drakkon!” They would rush through the hallway as the bomb exploded causing the tunnel to start collapsing around them.  Shadros grabbed Una’s arm as they rush back out into the hallway of the Deepcroft, quickly diving off to side as a large amount of debris blew out from the corridor they just came out of. Drakkon sat back up rubbing his head looking at the three a bit sheepishly, “Uh… my bad?”   Una noticed Shadros was holding onto her.  She quickly broke free from his grasp in a slightly panicked manner wondering what was wrong with her today. To work out her frustration, Una got up from where was and proceeded to whack Drakkon over the head with her staff, “Anymore stunts like that and your personally going to find out how deep that chasm goes, head first!”

Drakkon groaned rubbing his head, “Kitten has such claws.”

Shadros simply stood back up glancing ahead, “There will be time for that later, we have company. Ready yourselves!” Several dozen vilekin that were disturbed by the resulting explosion descended upon the group. Aya screamed, “This is absolutely disgusting!”

Shadros groaned, “You decided to act like a normal women now of all times? Stop freaking out and fight!” Shadros said as he cleaved through a large beetle.   The group would fight off the vilekin but they seemed to be coming out of the cracks in the walls faster than they could be slain.    Shadros shouted, “We need to get out of this confine space! Shield your eyes!  Flash!” Shadros raised his sword chanting a moment before the area was engulfed in white light, “Run!”  The group would begin to move reaching the central area on a lower floor but the vilekin were still coming.   Shadros growled looking around before spotting a loose rock formation above the pathway, “Una! The rock formation!”

Una looked in the direction Shadros was and stated, “Got it!” Una chanted sending a large stone in the direction of the loose rocks causing them to break loose and block the entrance to the path trapping the Vilekin inside.

Drakkon groaned some, “Well that was something…”

Aya grumbled, “Gross, I’ve got Vilekin guts on my uniform.”

Shadros sighed, “Just keep it together for right now.   We’re not done yet.” Shadros recognized the area where the cultists had gathered during his first trip into the area.    However, this time there were no Voidsent to greet them and no light to extinguish rather there were a stack of crates and a Fallen Orb, a violet spherical construct one he recognized both from Haukke Manor and Amdapor Keep.  Two others places impacted by the Voidsend in the past.   Aya eyed the crates, forgetting her vilekin guts crisis for the moment, “Well, all and all it could have been worse. Those has to be the crates the Woods Wailers had gathered before they were forced to abandon the place.  We’ve found them!”

Una sighed with relief, “Then let’s get what Shadros came for and get out of this place.” Shadros would nod and began to approach the crates but the familiar voice of Midgardsormr suddenly sounding in his mind made him slow, “Face thy reality, mortal.” Shadros stopped as the inactive Fallen Orb suddenly sprung to life emitting an extremely bright violet light and it began to hover into the air.   Drakkon shielded his eyes, “What the hell is that?   Don’t tell me there are voidsent coming?” Una glanced at the ground after a few moments, “S-Shadros!  What’s with your shadow?” Shadros turned his gaze as his shadow was moving and twisting very strangely and suddenly split in two very different looking shadows, his own and what appeared to be another person.   His eyes widen as the Excalibur seemed to be acting strangely to this as well.   A few of the visions from Excalibur struck him for a moment, disorienting him from what was going on. Drakkon shouted, “Shadros!  Heads up!” A shadowy hand suddenly burst from the orb lunging itself towards Shadros.  He quickly snapped out of his daze raised the Aegis to defend himself but the hand was not aiming for him.  It went past him off to the side and entered the unknown shadow on the ground.   The unknown shadow would fade away before the shadowy hand returned to the Fallen Orb. The orb began grow brighter. Within the light the figure of a woman would take shape and step forward. Not all different from many of the five races, the facial features of the woman were cloaked in darkness. The apparent white horns that flowed straight behind her head were the only feature unable to be concealed by the darkness. A faint blue light where her eyes were located were all that could be seen within the shadows.   The shadowed figure was geared in a black variation of the Gallant gear that Shadros was currently wearing down to the circlet he wore on his head.   Drakkon was, oddly enough, speechless for a moment before spitting out rapidly, “What the hell is that thing!? I’ve never seen a Voidsent or Ashkin that looked like that before.”  The being suddenly held out her hands to her sides and shadows flowed outward from her arms like fire and formed the shape of the Excalibur and Aegis Shield Shadros used but dyed black. Shadros seem stunned at the sight.  Though he could not see the figure’s face, the resemblance to the one in his dreams and visions was undeniable. “… You…”

Aya snapped Shadros out of his daze, “Whatever it is it doesn’t want us proceeding, here it comes!” The figure got her weapons into position and charged at the group.   Shadros snapped to attention drawing his weapon to counter the shadow.   When Shadros tried to strike she moved out of the way. The shadow seemed to be matching every move he was making as if she could read all of his thoughts.   Aya and Drakkon moved in as well.  Drakkon manage to get behind her and tried to thrust his lance through her back.   When Drakkon made contact the lance went no further. Shadros was suddenly surrounded by a strange dark energy and suddenly felt like he received an electric shock in the exact same location that Drakkon struck the shade.   Much to Drakkon confusion as the shadow didn’t even flinch. Aya threw a Shuriken into the shadow’s shoulder.   Shadros shouted out as the energy zapped him again. “Gaugh!!!” Shadros snapped.    The shadow would turn back smacking Drakkon with a Shield Bash while he was surprised by the situation. Drakkon growled stumbling back a bit, “What’s in the seven hells is going on?  Nothing is hurting this thing!”

Una shouted at the two, “Stop attacking, you idiots!  All your damage is just being redirected to Shadros!”

Aya winced, “Whoops, if physical attacks don’t work then maybe!” She quickly invoke a couple of hand signs, “Raiton!” A bolt of lightning would strike down on the shadow but once again Shadros was the one who was shocked and shouted out as a result.  Aya put her hand to her mouth, “Oops, that’s wasn’t what I was trying to do.”  Una quickly managed to get a healing spell off on Shadros allow him to snap out of it to once again block the shadow’s attacks.   Shadros growled some, he had no explanation for why he was taking the attacks done to her but he knew something had to be causing it.   Shadros turned his gaze for a moment notice the orb was still glowing.   Hovering in the area above the fight and teleporting around every few moments.   He shouted to Aya and Drakkon, “It’s that orb! The orb has to be powering this apparition.  We’re attacking the wrong target” He would block another attack from the shadow. “Leave the shadow to me!   Take out that orb!”   The shadow would jump upward and slam back down to the ground releasing random pillars of light around her, pushing them all away.  The shadow would once again move in on Shadros forcing him to parry another slash from the shadow.  

Aya acknowledged Shadros’ words, “Leave it to us!  Una, we’ll be fine, just make sure Shadros stays on his feet!” Una shouted between spell casts, “You don’t need to tell me that!”

Drakkon would move to the side trying to thrust at the orb but it move out of the way of the attack. It was moving too fast for him to properly register. Aya tried to strike from a distance with more shurikens but it did the same thing.   Aya growled to herself, “This is annoying no matter how fast I attack it moves out of the way.” Drakkon glanced at the orb, “You’re a Ninja aren’t you?    Don’t you have a few tricks up those tightly laced sleeves of yours?” Aya blinked a few times thinking for a moment, “Tightly laced… trick… binding, that’s it, that might just work!” She formed her hand signs for Ten and Jin.   She released the binding ice around the orb holding it still.   Drakkon would take the hint and quickly rush forward invoking all of his power before leaping up and diving down on the confined orb, his lance shattering the orb to pieces. The shadow stumbles back some before Shadros spun around thrusting his weapon into the shade’s torso. The shadow’s form would begin to crack.  As it did, there was a female voice that spoke when Shadros was closed enough to the figure, “Do not seek me anymore Shadros, if you find me, it will cost you everything.” The shadow reached up and touched Shadros’ cheek for a moment before falling and bursting into violet light.   The split shadow appeared for a moment behind Shadros again before fusing into one again.   Shadros was taken aback by the shadow’s words frozen in place.

Una quickly moved to Shadros’ side, “Shadros, are you okay?   What just happened?” Shadros blinked a few times looking forward some as if something just popped into his mind, “… Kari…?” Una looked perplexed, “Kari?  What’s a Kari?”

Aya and Drakkon returned the weapons to their proper place, gesturing in victory as they felt their mission was a success.   Shadros just closed his eyes taking a deep breath.   He didn’t feel like celebrating. They glance ahead as an Aetheral exit appeared where the shadow was much like it did with other previous missions.  

Una looked him beginning to realize that Kari wasn’t a thing but rather a person, “Shadros, who is Kari?” She asked with a tone of demand in her voice.

Shadros didn’t answer her question rather he would move over to the crate opening it up.   Digging through the contents he pulled out a book with the same Wasp emblem he had been looking for.

“This is what I needed, we’re done here.” Shadros simply stated before going into the exit with Aya and Drakkon following behind.   Una started to make her way to the exit as well, she paused and looked towards the spot where the shadow had been moments ago.

“Who’s Kari?  Why does Shadros seem so… sad?” Una’s ears flattened some as she exited as well.

When they appeared back at the entrance of the Deepcroft, Shadros paid Drakkon and Aya what he promised.

Aya chuckled, “Wonderful doing business with you, good sir.  It’s been fun but I think I’ve had enough of death cults, dark caves, and vilekin guts to last me awhile.” Drakkon chuckled some approaching Aya, “Well, it was entertaining to work with someone like you, perhaps you’d like to work with me a bit more often?” Aya smirked at Drakkon, “If you retain my interest maybe, but for now you don’t therefore…” Aya smirked and a burst of smoke surrounded her causing Drakkon to cough some as Aya was now gone. Drakkon chuckled some not seeming too discouraged, “Denied.   I suppose I will just need to try harder the next time I see you.”  Drakkon turned noticing Shadros and Una hadn’t said a word since they exited the cave.   There was something that bothered Drakkon though, “Shadros, your acting odd it’s not like you to hesitate when there is an enemy in front of you.   Do you know what that thing we fought was?” Drakkon asked.

Shadros shook his head, “Maybe… maybe not.   I’m not entirely sure at this point.”

Una gave Shadros a scowl, “For not being sure you obviously knew her name…”

Shadros looked at Una in an annoyed fashion, “I stated a name.   I don’t know if the name is accurate or has any actual meaning.  It might just be a figment of my imagination for all I know.” Una frowned some putting a hand to her chest for a moment lowering her head, “Please Shadros… please stop pursuing this.   I have a bad feeling about this whole thing.” Shadros closed his eyes, “I can’t do that Una.” Una growled some, “Why not?   Why are you dwelling some much of the past instead of your future?  Why are you such an… Argh!” Una paused and growled as if she wanted to say something else but then spat out, “You know what fine, do whatever you want but don’t ask me to help you with this mess again.” Shadros watched as Una suddenly began to rush away and out of the Deepcroft.   Shadros expected her to hit him or react violently but instead she just left.   Shadros wondered what was going on with her.

Drakkon observed the situation, “You two are acting stranger than usual. Shadros, what are you caught in the middle of?” Shadros simply began to walk away but he did state as he left, “That I don’t know… hopefully this,” He held up the book, “Will help me find out.” Shadros thought back to the words the shadow had said before he returned to Goblet to study the documents. Section 1 - Chapter 2: Into the Nexus of Madness Final Fantasy XIV: Azure and Crimson Complete 

Section 1 - Chapter 4: Truth Revealed, Identity Echoes

#Azure and Crimson #FFXIV #Fan Fiction #Writing Project #Writing #Shadros Hiku #Midlander #Hyur #PLD #Paladin #Aya #NIN #Ninja #una rela #miqo'te #Keeper of the Moon #WHM #White Mage #Drakkon #DRG #dragoon #Tam Tara Deepcroft #Kari Azuresol #Au Ra #Raen #Excalibur #Aegis Shield #Zodiac Braves

[one-1-year-gone]

day three (3)

Finally I saw the city! The sun woke me up at seven (7) o’clock and I decided to sleep a little more so I woke up at ten (10) o’clock, my host mother was obviously already out of the house and so I had to wait for her. I mean normally I’m not that dependant on others, but she told me she’d drive me to that other host student, Laura, with whom I planned to go to the city. So I waited and she came

At around twelve (12) o’clock we went on the bus, not really knowing when we should get off. We went to the top part, obviously, and had a good sight. We went off in the Princes Street, not bc we know that was where we wanted to get off, but there were a lot of people, so we thought that should be right. And we were.

Right when we got off the bus, we saw Edinburgh castle throning on the hill. Really majestic. There were lots and lots of people. We went to see the Princes Garden (? I’m not sure), went off Princes street and I spotted a skate shop, called RouteOne. I only started skating this spring but I want to continue and want to buy a skateboard here ofc. So I dragged Laura along only to be disappointed. They’ve got lots of clothes and shoes but really little skateboard stuff. Atleast they’ve got some, later I went into a Vans shop (the skateshop) and they had none.

So then we went over a bridge and landed on the Royal Mile. And when I thought there were a lot of people in the Princes Street, well there were masses of the in the Royal Mile. I got flyers for everything and from everyone, I even got one for a wrestling event from a dude only in his boxers.

We were sick of the masses and decided to stray off. It started to rain, obviously. But thankfully not for long and the sun was shining again.

Around two (2) o’clock we went into a Subway and sat on a bench somewhere in Edinburgh, we had no idea where we were. I was halfway through my sandwich when a wasp decided to have a bite, too. This f’cking b’tch didn’t go away, I had to shake the sandwich that she would get off. But she would buzz around and sit on it again. And boy, somehow I managed to shoo her away, but then she would come again. When I finally finished my sub, she would sit on Laura’s. She isn’t as afraid as me, so she didn’t have a heartattack and just smacked that h’e.

We found our way back to the Royal Mile and then Princes Street. We just kept walking and landed on the Calton Hill. The best thing. We saw the ocean. We’ve sean the sea. We looked on the map and we weren’t going to walk that far. There was a band playing, the Wet Trainers, they were pretty good. Three dudes playing the drums, guitar and I think keyboard? Didn’t sing, but good music.

We admired the monuments (even those who never got finished, bc we don’t discriminate) on the Calton Hill, took photos like every good tourist and then went down to the Princes Street.

There is a lovely shop called Kingdom of Sweets where you can buy any candy. There is also a section where you can pick anything and pay per weight. Brilliant invention.

It was about half past four (4) p.m. and we decided it was enough of Edinburgh for us today. Also because the rain was a bit longer and heavier than before.

The view on the ocean from Calton Hill

Some hill I photographed off Calton Hill

Calton Hill and the National Monument

Edinburgh Castle

#scotland #scotia #edinburgh #midlothian #exchange #exchange year #year abroad #travel #travel blog #daily blog #student

[punkpoemprose]

A Brief History of the Farm; Or Why Emily is the Way She Is

As requested, a brief (okay it got really really long) history of life, adventures, and my/ my family member’s fuckups on the farm.

@karis-the-fangirl I hope some of this is helpful/ amusing. Feel free to ask questions at any time if you’d like. If living in the sticks can be helpful to anyone I’m more than happy to share the knowledge I have.

So my dad has like the longest list of insane stories related to farmwork, so a lot of these will be his, and I should say that my family farm is only a hobby farm, so the work is a lot less difficult than my cousin’s dairy farm and the farms around me. We’re more of a subsistence farm/ homestead.

           When my dad was in middle school/ highschool he worked on my cousin’s dairy farm, and nearly died there five times that I know of (there’s probably more).

1.)    In the hayloft and a board broke out from under him sending him to the floor below (about a 10ft drop), which would be fine if it weren’t for the fact that the weak board sent him into a pile of very sharp tools that should have probably impaled him. He walked it off.

2.)    Was switching off equipment because he heard a storm was rolling in. The first strike of lightning in the whole night hits the barn, comes through the outlet, and knocks him flat on his ass, gasping for breath.

3.)    Was digging a trench for waterlines out to the barn. His little cousin was playing with her sisters in the back yard and went running, fell into the trench and straight on top of my father (she wasn’t necessarily small at that age and it was a 12ft trench). She nearly broke my Dad’s back, but it was lucky that she landed on him, because if she hadn’t, she likely would have hit a stone at the bottom of the trench and died.

4.)    Rolled a tractor (you’re not supposed to live through that), and not like a John Deere Mt or a little Ford or something, no, a huge commercial farm tractor with no cab. Again, he went flying, but walked it off.

5.)    Some kid decided to walk up to the back of one of the tractors when a PTO (power take off- basically a thing that spins wicked fast that you can use to power equipment off the back of a tractor, like a mower or what have you… this might explain better https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Power_take-off) shaft was running. If you so much as touch one of those babies when they’re going it can break your arm/ leg. God forbid you get a scrap of clothing stuck in there, you’re as good as dead. Anyway, kid gets too close, my Dad sees what’s about to happen and shoves the kid out of the way. You can probably guess what happens to Dad’s pants. If it weren’t for the fact that Dad yelled for the kid to move and the kid screamed, which caused my Great Grandfather to come running and shut the tractor off, I probably wouldn’t be here today. Oh, and what happened to him? He walked it off.

Mom wasn’t born on the farm. She was a city gal. Okay so like not a big city, but they had more than one grocery store, so that’s a city for me. My town only has farms, car garages, a post office, a town hall, and the general store an Amish lady opened up about a year ago (the pie is so damn good and her prices are so low it’s a miracle I bake at all anymore tbh, my grandmother has definitely given in all her thanksgiving pies were handmade by Laura Yoder and her three girls).

When she first started seeing Dad she was about my age (I think around 19 or 20?). They met at her summer job (at a plastic plant out towards Utica). My dad was her supervisor, and even though she had never done farm chores before, she started to learn on her visits. My father lived with his grandfather and the house desperately needed a woman’s touch, so Mom often did the dishes and tidied up for them, and she learned to crochet during the winter just to make my Dad a blanket.

By the time they were married Mom felt much more comfortable on the farm, but let me tell you (as she would, she’s a lovely woman and likes others to learn from her mistakes) she made some major mess ups/ had some adventures before and after the wedding.

She ruined about three weeks worth of green beans by weeding the row while they were wet (when you touch green beans while they’re wet they “rust” which is basically a disease/ blight that ruins the beans on the affected plants).

Planted three different plants that are so terribly invasive we’ve done everything we can to kill them since the early 2000’s and they still keep coming back (word to the wise if you ever want to plant spearmint do it in a pot).

Somehow Virginia Creeper ended up in our grape vines, and thankfully Mom only ate one berry (they look a lot like wild grapes). It lit her whole mouth on fire, and luckily she and dad were able to tear it all out before anyone else made the same mistake.

She didn’t fully cook Swiss Chard and had a similar adventure in mouth/ throat burning (The plants have tiny microneedles in their stems that will make you feel pain like no other if you eat it raw/ undercooked).

Once she made a pie with the apples off the back tree, and somehow managed to get several worm filled apples which did not reveal themselves until dinner that night, dead in the pie. In similar bug/ apple tree issues she accidently sent a wasps nest out of the tree and onto my father while picking apples (though Dad got his revenge when I was a kid and sent a chuck of beehive onto her by accident).

She was pulling weeds in the garden, accidently dug up/ pulled out a snake and panicked, not letting go of it, but running so that the poor thing (just a little garter snake mind you) was bouncing up and down the whole time, probably just trying to be free of her. She only dropped it when she ran over to my father (who’s terrified of snakes) and he smacked her hand.

When she was pregnant with me, she and Dad hadn’t accounted for such a cold/ long winter, so in the middle of February (7 months pregnant), she was up in the woods filling up a sled (that didn’t hold much but was heavy when full) with wood to bring back to the house. She had to make this trip 3-5 times in a day, and the woods are a quarter mile from the house in any direction.

When I was a toddler and my brother was a baby she worked in the garden with him in a playpen and I would be playing with my toy garden tools. My cousin, unfortunately, had planted a cornfield in the lot behind my house that he rented from us that year and I toddled off into the corn field. My poor mother ran through the corn field barefoot with my brother in one arm, screaming like a banshee for a good fifteen minutes. By the time she got back to the house, ready to call in a search party, I was being pushed on my swing set by my great grandpa (who was very hard of hearing).

My Gramp was the sweetest/ toughest man you would ever meet and doted on my brother and I terribly. He was half deaf, blind in one eye, his heart barely worked, he had a bad back and barely functioning lungs, but he would go up into the woods on the hottest day of summer to pick wild blackberries, strawberries, and raspberries for me and my brother. When Conner was a baby and I was a toddler he would do it for hours, come back, mash them all up for us with some sugar, let us eat it all, and tell us stories. My dad always said that he wouldn’t have lived as long as he did if it weren’t for me and my brother being around to give him something to live for.

As far as my experiences go I’ve been lucky to avoid anything too possibly life ending. Though we cut our own wood, and when I was a kid my Dad would fall a tree and cut it up and me, my mom, and my brother would load it into the truck or the wagon to take back to the house. Well my favorite thing was when he’d fall a tree on a hill so that we could roll the blocks down the hill to be split/ loaded. One time my shirt got caught on a log I was rolling, and it took me with it. I thankfully got thrown off the block before it could roll on my chest, but it got my leg pretty bad and it knocked all the air out of my lungs. I was pretty young at the time so my parents were worried. They made me and my brother stay in the truck the rest of the time, but we really just wanted to be out rolling more blocks. Also I’ve been hit multiple times by thrown pieces of wood to varying levels of damage to myself. I accidently broke my dad’s glasses when I didn’t see him and tossed a piece at him when I was about 12. But he was mostly fine and my brother broke a window doing the same thing when we were filling a shed, so we’ve all done something.

We use a tractor to plow out the driveway in the winter because we get so much snow. When my brother was a baby he loved riding on the tractor with Dad. (He called it a put-put because that’s the sound the exhaust/ exhaust cap makes when it runs). One time my dad hit a snow bank pretty hard and my little brother (probably about 2 or 3) went flying off the tractor and into the bank. I’m about 4 or 5, so I’m just sort of confused when my dad plucks my brother out of the snow and grabs us both (amazing given how puffy both of our snowsuits were really) and says the one phrase the three of us still share today “Don’t tell mom!”

When my brother and I were up playing on the edge of where the field meets the woods (where my great grandma used to throw the trash because they didn’t have pick up or anything like that) I sliced my finger open on a piece of glass and my brother said I’d have to get stitches so I tried hiding it from my mom for hours. I don’t know how much blood I lost, but my mom (God bless her) found out and managed to butterfly bandage it closed and made me drink a ridiculous amount of water. I probably should have gone to the hospital, but it never scarred and I lived. I have other stories that did leave scars, but I can sum almost all of them up as “young Emily really liked animals but the animals didn’t always like Emily back”. I didn’t learn obviously, I’m a Biologist.

When I started being able to do chores on my own I got my shoe eaten by pigs while bringing them slop, accidently pulled out all the plants and left the weeds in the garden because the leaves were very similar (thankfully we were able to replant them), I accidently broke a ton of eggs, I lost most of the hay out of a bale I was carrying, I ripped open a feed bag because I held it wrong, and I fell into what I will affectionately refer to as “puckey” more times than I’m willing to admit. I also freed all the fish my brother caught (because they were cute), cried over a bird that my brother shot by accident while trying to scare them out of the tomatoes, and with detached emotion named my three pigs breakfast, lunch, and dinner (my brother, who really isn’t a monster I promise, named his bacon, ham, and sausage).

I refuse to hunt, but I’ve gutted deer (the first time was an adventure trust me there), and for the last year I’ve been the closest thing my family had to a farm vet. The vet most people used around here passed recently and evidently a student of biology with a firm understanding of google is good enough for my family when it comes to the chickens and wildlife. I’ve only lost one patient and consulting with my actual vet student friends, she wasn’t going to make it anyway.

Also critters get into the house a lot and because I’m the only one in the family who isn’t afraid of them (mostly mice, bats, moles, and the occasional bird, my mom can handle the frogs/ toads/ salamanders herself), it’s been my job since I was about 12 to shoo them out. I don’t do snakes (because while I respect them I’m afraid of them), but I’ve been known to catch spiders and bring them out to the deck. The only thing I would ever outright refuse to catch is this fucking massive squirrel that used to hang out in the hay loft of my friend’s barn. It was a terror.

Oh and my brother and I had our hair chewed on by a horse when we were kids because we used to have straw blonde hair.

I overfilled a pressure canner once and I nearly died when we opened it prematurely because it blew the pressure gage clear off the top and just past my head.

My dog ran across a wet bridge and sent my cousin into the creek below where he broke his arm. I had to run back to the house (about a half mile) to get my mom to call his mom so we could bring him to the hospital (I was about 13, so he was either 14 or 15).

My brother and I have pulled more stone out of the fields around my house than I can count. Not little ones either. You can run little ones over with the tractor. I’m talking rocks the size of a laptop or larger. Once or twice we’ve found ones so big that we needed my dad to come through with the tractor to get them out.

I’ve been face to face with a bear (which is why I bring my brother, our 4-wheeler and his rifle whenever I go blackberry picking now), and we’ve all had deer, coyote, porcupines, skunks, and snakes cross our paths. Dad tries to shoot all the woodchucks out of the lot (they cause a lot of damage), but I won’t let him kill them if I’m around (same for the moles in the lawn and the field mice in the house).

There’s like a million more things I could say, but this is over 2500 words and I think I should stop now.  

#my life #farm life #this is what happens when you're raised in the middle of nowhere #This is why I am the way I am

[kitjoy]

This could be fun or extremely sad

1: Name: Jess 2: Age: 17 3: 3 Fears: Wasps, Small spaces and idk 4: 3 things I love: My dogs, My cats and movies 5: 4 turns on: Hair pulling, Dry humping, Kissed against a wall, Moaning lol 6: 4 turns off: Dirty Talk (not a big fan), Feet, Cockiness, Guys who STOP TALKING TO YOU STRAIGHT AFTER YOU GOT OFF WITH THEM  7: My best friend: Meg and Emily  8: Sexual orientation: Um probs like Bi or something but 90% attracted to boys 9: My best first date: Aint had one tbh 10: How tall am I: 5′5 11: What do I miss: Not having responsibilities  12: What time were I born:  3pm 13: Favorite color: Yellow 14: Do I have a crush: Nah 15: Favorite quote:  A lot of movie quotes 16: Favorite place: Home 17: Favorite food: Italian food 18: Do I use sarcasm: No(!) 19: What am I listening to right now: Hold on- SE22 Mix 20: First thing I notice in new person: Usually mouth or eyes 21: Shoe size: 7 22: Eye color: Hazel 23: Hair color: Naturally Blonde/Brown but Grey atm 24: Favorite style of clothing: Oversized jackets are my shit 25: Ever done a prank call?: Yeah when I was like 12 27: Meaning behind my URL: Just liked the sound of it 28: Favorite movie:  Die Hard 29: Favorite song:  Changes all the time 30: Favorite band: ^ 31: How I feel right now:  Eh 32: Someone I love: My Momther 33: My current relationship status:  Singleeee (and have been for abt 4 yrs??) 34: My relationship with my parents:  Ok I guess 35: Favorite holiday:  Either Halloween or Christmas 36: Tattoos and piercing i have: Arrow of my hip, Something to do with my zodiac of my ankle, Ears pierced 37: Tattoos and piercing i want: A drawing my mum did when she was my age (The dragon on a The Clash CD cover) 38: The reason I joined Tumblr: Don’t remember 39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?:  Barely remember him tbh 40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?: Nope 41: Have you ever kissed the last person you texted? Nah 42: When did I last hold hands?  Agesss ago 43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?  Depends if im late or not 44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?  No but I need to goddamn 45: Where am I right now? My bedroom (as always) 46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? Myself I’m pretty responsible when drunk imo 47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? Fuckin loud hell yeah 48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? Yep 49: Am I excited for anything? V festival and a J Cole concert I’m going to :DD 50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? FUCK no 51: How often do I wear a fake smile? Not so much nowadays 52: When was the last time I hugged someone? Last weekend 53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? Wouldn’t care lmao 54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? Yup 55: What is something I disliked about today? Nothing yet but it’s still early 56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? Ri Ri or Chance the Rapper I lov them 57: What do I think about most?: Probs my future 58: What’s my strangest talent?:  Can crack almost every joint in my body 59: Do I have any strange phobias?: Nah I think they’re all valid 60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?: Behind 61: What was the last lie I told?: That I didn’t have weed on me lol 62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?: Who even talks on the phone anymore 63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?: Yes to ghosts, idk to aliens 64: Do I believe in magic?: Nah 65: Do I believe in luck?: Not really 66: What’s the weather like right now?: Sunny but windy 67: What was the last book I’ve read?: 1984 (and still haven’t finished it) 68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?: Only when I have a full tank in my car  69: Do I have any nicknames?:  Used to be called Jep 70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?:  Ripped my toenail half off once (: 71: Do I spend money or save it?: Try to save it 72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue?: Yeah 73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?: Yeah my candle jar 74: Favorite animal?: Hmm dogs and cats are cool but I love leopards 75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?: Playing Sims 4 76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?:  Probably Trump or something 77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?: Freedom By George Michael 78: How can you win my heart?: Be attentive to me and don’t be fake  79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?: Baddest bitch there ever was 80: What is my favorite word?: Goiym 81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr:  Don’t really have a top 5 82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?: Waddup wanna hang? 83: Do I have any relatives in jail?:  Apparently I do I found out recently 84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?: Either invisibility bc I’m a nosy bitch or levitation 85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?: How are you feeling? 86: What is my current desktop picture? Deadpool 87: Had sex?: Nah 88: Bought condoms?: Nope 89: Gotten pregnant?: No 90: Failed a class?: not yet luckily 91: Kissed a boy?: Yah 92: Kissed a girl?: Yah 93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?: Nope 94: Had job?: Yep 95: Left the house without my wallet?: I do it all the time 96: Bullied someone on the internet?: No way 97: Had sex in public?: Nope 98: Played on a sports team?: Does a school team count 99: Smoked weed?: Hell yeah 100: Did drugs?: Only weed 101: Smoked cigarettes?: Yeah 102: Drank alcohol?: Ofc 103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?: No way couldn’t like without bacon 104: Been overweight?: Nope 105: Been underweight?: Yeah but that’s just my body type 106: Been to a wedding?: Yep 107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?: Literally everyday :/ 108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?: Probs when I was younger 109: Been outside my home country?: Yah 110: Gotten my heart broken?: No 111: Been to a professional sports game? Don’t think so 112: Broken a bone?: Luckily no 113: Cut myself?: Yup 114: Been to prom?: Yeah 115: Been in airplane?: Yeah 116: Fly by helicopter?: No I wish 117: What concerts have I been to?: Olly Murs and JLS concert (I’m cool), and V festival 118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?: Nope not yet 119: Learned another language?:  I’m ok at German I guess 120: Wore make up?: Yep 121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?: Not yet but I’m working on it lmao 122: Had oral sex?: Nah 123: Dyed my hair?:  Multiple times 124: Voted in a presidential election?: No 125: Rode in an ambulance?: No 126: Had a surgery?: Yep 127: Met someone famous?: Nah 128: Stalked someone on a social network?:  Who hasn’t 129: Peed outside?: Yah :/ 130: Been fishing?: Yeah 131: Helped with charity?: Yes 132: Been rejected by a crush?: Not directly 133: Broken a mirror?: Nope 134: What do I want for birthday?: Erm probably like money or a sick 18th party when I can then drink (legally)

#me

[chrisevansbulge]

Ask Game

rules: you must answer these 85 statements and tag 20 people

tagged by @goldmoonsilverstars​

tagging: @all-the-super-feels​ @gendervoidkillua​ and literally anyone else, (but especially if i know you irl because i want to see what you said and i literally only remember these two because we’ve messaged semi recently and i do not talk 2 anyone) 

the last:

1. drink: monster energy drink i had to get up at 11AM, it was rough

2. phone call: some number called me earlier but i was trying 2 sleep so i ignored it

3. text message: khatlyn telling me she was here

4. song you listened to: like the way

5. time you cried: tODAY IN THE CAR BCUZ KHATLYN WAS TELLN ME ABOUT THIS SAD AF DOG MOVIE WTF

have you ever:

6. dated someone twice: lol yeah but i was young and dumb now im old and still dumb

7. kissed someone and regretted it: yeah but w/e

8. been cheated on: kind of? the details are spotty and lost in time

9. lost someone special: :)

10. been depressed: lmao m8

11. gotten drunk and thrown up: yep, s/times you just gotta

3 favorite colors:

12. space?

13. pastels

14. sunset?

in the last year have you:

15. made new friends: yeah i make a lot

16. fallen out of love: kind of i guess

17. laughed until you cried: absolutly

18. found out someone was talking about you: bitches be snitches (knife emoji)

19. met someone who changed you: i sure did

20. found out who your friends are: like im going to be put to the test in some epic adventure and find out who is a true friend/warrior????

21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: the question is how many

general:

22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: all???

23. do you have any pets: two cats that hate me so much, like im just tryin to be their friends and they r not having it

24. do you want to change your name: Kat is dope and so is Kathryn??? But i wouldn’t mind changing the last name to something more chill like for example... Evans??? B)

25. what did you do for your last birthday: saw magical beasts bcuz it came out on my birth date

26. what time did you wake up: 11 for some mountain bullshit

27. what were you doing at midnight last night: doing a face mask and getting high in the rain with some scary wasps

28. name something you can’t wait for: to be in a major movie pls

29. when was the last time you saw your mom: like literally a minute ago

31. what are you listening to right now: like the way on repeat what do u want

32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: i work with tom and i hang out with him a whole bunch. kind of a loser. nice guy. likes oklahoma. gullible. 

33. something that is getting on your nerves: the cost of living in LA

34. most visited website: fucking tumblr because i am a loser, but once school starts it will be blackboard

35. hair colour: blue/gray/pink

36. long or short hair: so. damn. long.

39. piercings: my ears. just the two. i wear a fake septum because real ones smell and i just don’t want that

40. blood type: who do i look like? Karl Landsteiner founder of blood types?

41. nicknames: kat ????            

42. relationship status: i am trying my best but s/times people r dumb

43. zodiac: scorpio

44. pronouns: she/her

45. favourite tv show: do u know how many i watch?????? fuck off i don’t have time

46. tattoos: i have one on my arm it’s dope as hell

47. right or left handed: right

48. surgery: i had to have surgery once and i will only tell you about it in person because boy, it’s rough

49. piercing: yes, i got another one since the last time u asked

50. sport: hockey 

51. vacation: anywhere but mostly disney. so much disney.

52. pair of trainers: like the shoes? i am in america i can’t read

more general:

53. eating: yes i do that

54. drinking: what? water? not enough pal, i’ll tell you that

55. i’m about to: watch beauty and the beast and eat chocolate? also text my fav cousin and ask if i can go live in her house for like three days

56. waiting for: someone to appreciate me

57. want: a phone with more storage, if it tells me im running low one more time im going from lowkey mental breakdown to full-blown murder

58. get married: only if i like their first name. the only one i like is chris. and u know what, last name is important to. not because i’m taking it, but because i’m assuming i’ll be getting their mail. evans sounds like a good one.

59. career: when i grow up i want 2 b in movies

which is better:

60. hugs or kisses: physical affection? me? never

61. lips or eyes: depends on what u do with them. i personally only find people who can take their eyes out on demand attractive

62. shorter or taller: i do not give one single damn

63. older or younger: older. don’t want youths trying to get near me 

64. nice arms or nice stomach: aRMS

65. hook up or relationship: depends on the person???? i’m trying to do both rn and only one is going swell B)

66. troublemaker or hesitant: they both have burned me with their wild ways

have you ever:

67. kissed a stranger: maybe idk middle school was nuts

68. drank hard liquor: unfortunately 

69. lost glasses/contact lenses: i have 20/20 vision but i lose so many pairs of sunglasses

70. turned someone down: yes

71. sex on the first date: depends on how big their arms are or if they laugh at my jokes 

72. broken someone’s heart: who tf do i look like 2 you

73. had your heart broken: leave me alone im working on it

74. been arrested: no i have not but i still sweat when someone runs a background check????

75. cried when someone died: life sucks man

76. fallen for a friend: i dont even remember anymore

do you believe in:

77. yourself: i am trying my best 2 b my best :))))))

78. miracles: science we dont get yet

79. love at first sight: A) have u seen any woman ever, B) i have seen a bicep the size of my head and i fell fast and hard

80. santa claus: stay out of my house

81. kiss on the first date: yes! ! !

82. angels: not really at all

other:

83. current best friend’s name: khatlyn. when other people write it you can see the pen ink build where they had to pause to remember how to spell the rest.

84. eye colour: ocean

85. favourite movie: i am a film major so you can shove this question where the sun don’t shine (a butt. shove it up a butt)

#tagged #kat opens her big mouth #gr8 #long post

[thepensiverambler]

Ruddy Nora

The joy of volunteering in such an international environment is that there is a beautiful exchange of cultures. A ‘give and take’ situation in which we learn from each other about culture and language. Just this morning I was eating bssissa with dates, later I drank tea with a Turkish dump yard owner and this weekend I bumbled my way through a Turkish barbers. Despite these culturally enriching experiences the most prominent exchange is currently not between Turk and Brit but instead between Brit and Italian. Construction sites have a reputation for being a hive of masculinity, culminating in practical jokes, swearing and wolf whistles. If a wolf whistle was ever heard in the village the whistler would probably be thrown out 5 minutes later. Practical jokes could be played but apart from the occasional dousing with a watering can I'm yet to experience any. This leaves us with swearing. Swearing may be a stretch for the exclamatory phrase ‘Ruddy Nora’ but, to quote Polly Stenham that's “fucking semantics”. This phrase along with ‘Bloody Nora’ is perhaps my main gift to my Italian workmate. It's makes smile to myself everytime I hear from the opposite side of the kitchen the Italian accent uttering old phrase. In return I now swear solely in Italian in the workplace. When I bend a nail, hit myself with a hammer or when Massaki starts to clear all my stuff away before we’re done with work, an English voice can be heard massacring the beautiful language. When I am searching for a tool amongst the chaos that is our construction site, generally complaining or enquiring why Massaki has started to laugh unexplainably I choose to butcher Japanese instead. The combination of Japanese and Italian workmates means that I will occasionally compile sentences from our three languages. The sentences are nigh on incomprehensible to anyone but me. Nonetheless I will persist in combining the languages I have tried to learn in my life. There have been numerous ‘Ruddy Nora’ moments this week so far so here is a quick run of them. Ruddy Nora moment No.1 I am determined to become a true Arabic man and working the entirety of my time here in flip flops. This is a slight death trap however as, when building a house out of pallets, there will undoubtedly be nails lying around. I have stood on a few, some have gone through my flip flops but today is the first day that blood has been drawn. Ruddy Nora moment No.2 I woke up on Tuesday morning snoozed my alarm and that's was the last I saw of my phone. I searched every night for is thinking at first it was under clothes, then under my roll mat then at a later stage under my tent. It must have been quite the sight to have seen me in my wholly boxers climbing under my tent. My phone was nowhere to be found and was not found until 2 day later 10 feet clear of my tent. No doubt it had been carried away by ants or a group of industrious wasps. Ruddy Nora moment No.3 I received an email from Leeds University saying they wanted me to pay my £200 deposit for my accommodation. Seeing as I hadn't had a phone for the past couple of days the email came as quite a shock and to be quite frank a bit of an insult. In email communication with the university I never feel I have much choice, they prefer dictatorial style of writing which implies a significant amount power over me. Regardless, I have come into town to give the greedy bastards my money because I don't know if I can continue to sleep in a tent whilst at university. Ruddy Nora moment No.4 When I was told it was my turn to clean the bathroom. This would have been fine but I couldn't be bothered to wander round in search of a mop so instead I did the cleaning with sponge, including the floor. Again, this would have been fine had I not kept walking through the area I had just cleaned to get to the sink creating my muddy footprints. Eventually I planned my clean a bit better and got the job done (ish) only to be told at supper by Kenneth that he wouldn't clean the bathroom until I had. Flabbergasted that he hadn't noticed my efforts I was appalled and lost for words. Ruddy Nora moment No.5 My flip flop broke. It's happened to all of us and some stage. It's a sad sight seeing someone try to hop along with a broken flip flop but my workmates didn't have to see it for long. Part of the bottom of the strap had snapped of so I replaced it with a nail. There's something about the fact that whilst I avoid nails as best I can all day long I am constantly stepping on one which fixes my flip flop that makes me feel both rebellious and dangerous. Like a poacher may hang the head of his prized prey I hang a nail in my flip flop to show I have conquered it. Ruddy Nora moment No.6 If you ever see me with a fig in my hand be sure to slap it away and then slap me for my weakness. I adore figs, but they do not adore me. In a moment that harks back to a time in which I ate far too many dried apricots meaning I was stuck to the loo for a few days the same thing happens with figs. I'm considering selling it to cosmo as an extreme dieting technique. ‘Shit away 30 pounds by eating nothing but figs’ may not have the sexy appeal that other fads have but it certainly has the right effect. With every rapid need to run to the loo I mutter to myself “ohhhh Ruddy Nora”.

[notcrownedking]

Ok, story time.

so my sister comes home last night (from University) and well today when we got home, my sister (who hasn’t been home since like last semester) LEAVES the DOOR OPEN. at first my mum got a little mad and was like “who left the door open?” “Oh me, sorry.” my sister says, my mum, she didn’t care at first but then when she walked into our living room she practically shouted, I wouldn’t say scream, but all she said was “THERES A WASP IN THE HOUSE.” I honestly did not care, but when I got up to my room there were 3 FLIES in my room really close to my window, I screamed, I panicked and left to go game, and here i come back to possibly sleep in a few hours and the flies are no where to be found, I left my door closed, I feel stupid for doing that but now since I have no idea if there even are flies in my room I THINK THAT THEY’RE SOME GOD DAMN NINJAS I cannot see them, and one just so HAPPENLY hit my leg, and just flew away, Mum I’m sorry that there is a wasp somewhere in the house, but there are THREE FLIES in MY ROOM!!!!

[twilight-turk]

The text message count has grown high. None have been read yet - or rather, that was how it appeared to be. Maybe they wouldn’t send anymore.

Maybe whatever had allowed his adopted twin to visit him wasn’t letting him through. Maybe the signal was bad. Maybe the cell phone was broken.

A hand wipes at irritated eyes, rubbing tears away from his cheeks, before he stares dully at the sea of sent messages.

[Txt: March 12′th ] Guess what?! [Txt: March 12′th] I got hired at a bar! The boss seems kind of nice, gives me decent hours, the pay ain’t great, but its better than killing wasp nests. Let me know whats going on over there when ya can! Take care!

[Txt: March 17′th] First day of work went great! Well. Okay, I guess. I served my first drink, and the boss says I didn’t screw up, so thats a win in my book! Town narcissist Setzer came in, talked about himself, bored the bar to death, he got kicked out for being bad for business. I laughed so hard. Anyways - I still haven’t heard from you, so I hope you’re doing okay! [Txt: March 25′th] Uh...still haven’t heard from you. You alright? Shinra keeping you busy? Or maybe you lost your phone? It spent two months in my couch when you lived here, so I wouldn’t rule that out just yet. I’ll try again in a week or so - maybe you’ll have found it by then. [Txt: April 1′st]  Remind me to slip hair dye in your shampoo when you get home, cause we’re missing April fools this year. =( [Txt: April 7′th]  Testing! Anyone home? [Txt: April 9′th]  Reno? [Txt: April 10′th] Bro? [Txt: April 26′th]  Guess you still haven’t found it yet. [Txt: June 3′st] Been working at the bar for a solid three months now. Things are alright. Checked my house a third time, your phone ain’t here. [Txt: June 3′st] I know you’ll message back one day, cause you’re still alive. [Txt: June 3′st] .... [Txt: June 3′st] Right? [Txt: July 27′th] Summer’s here. I wanted to take you to the beach like last year, bought some fireworks in the case that you’d make it. [Txt: July 27′th] Wishful thinking, I guess.

[Txt: September 13′th] Its my birthday today. Bar Owner threw a miniature party for me, and got me a cake. Chocolate mint. My favorite. Told me to make a wish, and I said I’d do it as a joke, and then we ate it. [Txt: September 13′th] I did make a wish, you know. [Txt: September 13′th]  I know that if you say it, it won’t come true, but. [Txt: September 13′th] I said it then. I’ll say it again. [Txt: September 13′th]   I wish for my brother back. [Txt: December 25′th] Merry Christmas. [Txt: January 1st] Happy new year. [Txt; March 03′d]  Starting to think you lost your phone after all. [Txt: March 03′d] Or replaced it. [Txt: March 03′d] Or died. [Txt: March 04′th]  Or maybe you’re just sick of me. [Txt: March 04′th] I’d be sick of me too by now. Still not sure how you put up with me as long as you did, when I was such a sniveling little kid.  [Txt: March 05′th]  I hope you’re not alone. That cueball’s still with ya, watching your back. That you’re safe. Alive. Breathing. [Txt: March 05′th]  Fuck, I don’t even care if you never come back. [Txt: March 05′th] I just want you to be out there somewhere. Alive. [Txt: March 30′th] Still not sure if you’re alive or dead, but if its the latter, I came thisclose to seeing ya. Some blond fuck nearly killed me, using a bunch of ice and a whole lot of magic. He came so close to doing it. [Txt: March 30′th]  I almost wish he had. [Txt: March 30′th] Its a shitty thing to say, but its true. [Txt: March 30′th] At the time, I wanted to live. But looking back... [Txt: March 30′th] God.  [Txt: March 30′th] I’m so fucking tired, [Txt: March 30′th] i’m so tired of being alone and miserable. [Txt: March 30′th] ... [Txt: March 30′th] I think its time to give up on this. [Txt: March 30′th] I’m not messaging you anymore. [Txt: March 30′th]  If you’re alive, and you care. [Txt: March 30′th] You won’t send a message. You’ll just come back. [Txt: March 30′th] If you don’t, well. [Txt: March 30′th]  I guess I shouldn’t have shared my wish.

He turns the cellphone off, and quietly sets it upon the bedside table. The goggles soon follow it, and he turns, before lying down, head resting on the pillow, eyes taking in the sight of the ceiling, before they close.

It was time to try and sleep.

#Ic musings #Drabble #Its been a long and harrowing day for my poor son..... #he's so sad. #callmerxd