#i apparently mostly learn new skills in the dead of winter

[milkweedman]

was doing the math, and next january I'll have been crocheting 10 years, knitting 9, and spinning 6 years.

Crazy how time flies...

[pastel-odette]

Revenge- A Banana Fish Fanfiction

This is a fic written for @emi-joanna. Sorry it took so long, I started work and college this past month. I hope it's as angsty as you requested!

(tws are properly tagged as tw _____)

“Eiji! Hurry up! We’re gonna be late!”

Eiji came rushing out of the house, locking up before making his way to the car. “What took you so long?” Aslan asked. Eiji opened up his satchel to reveal various snacks and sweets. “I had to grab the essentials,” he said with a smile. Aslan chuckled. “You really think we’re gonna need them?” “Yes!! During last year’s shrine visit you whined and whined about being hungry, so this time I thought I’d come prepared.” “How do you even remember that?” “Magic, my love. Now enough questions! Let’s go already!” It had been seven years since the couple had moved to Izumo. The first year had been the toughest. Despite being months out of the hospital, Aslan had still been reeling from the attack from Lao. The realization that even after Dino was dead, even after he thought he was finally free, someone still wanted to kill him had hit him extremely hard. He had felt foolish for thinking he would ever be anything other than what Dino made him. To hunt and be hunted, was that really all there was left for him? He had almost wished he hadn’t survived. He didn’t even understand why he survived in the first place.

The decision to move to Japan with Eiji did not come easy. Almost every part of him was screaming at him to abandon that hope that he could ever have a normal life. The physical distance made it seem more unattainable, too. However, Eiji was persistent. He would text every day, and call as much as he could. He was determined to make sure Aslan saw their original plan to move to Japan through.

Eventually, Aslan caved in. He said goodbye to New York, and started a new life with his soulmate. It wasn’t until he laid in bed that night, Eiji sleeping peacefully next to him, that what he did hit him all at once. An entirely new country with nothing to protect himself with.

For a while, they stayed at the Okumura family house. Eiji’s father was still in the hospital as he learned, so it was just the two of them, Eiji’s mother, and his sister. He felt surprisingly welcomed, like he was truly part of the family. It was strange to him to meet people so truly kind and hospitable upon first meeting. It wasn’t long until it started to feel like home.

But it still didn’t feel safe. He would lay awake at night, Eiji beside him, terrified of every little noise he heard. On the rare occasions where he did sleep, he would have terrible nightmares, and when he would jolt awake he would reach for a gun that wasn’t there.

The Okumuras noticed how fidgety and cautious he was. So, they installed a security system in their house. They did everything, big and small, to help him adjust to this new life. When Aslan and Eiji moved out into their own house, they took a lot of these things with them. The security system, the protective charms, the little statues of gods that could protect them. It stunned Aslan how… good he felt to be living this life.

Izumo is where Aslan had found peace and happiness. “We’re here,” Aslan said.

They made their way through the rows of trees together, surrounded by other people also dressed for the chilly weather. Some wore their traditional kimonos, some wore more casual winter clothes. As they approached the torii gates they saw a familiar person standing there. “Mari!” Eiji shouted as he waved to his sister. She waved back as she walked up and gave them both a tight hug. “How are your studies going?” Aslan asked with a soft smile. “Well, just as tough as last year. But I’m glad to finally be visiting again!” She beamed.

When Aslan moved to Japan, Mari was right there alongside Eiji to greet him. She was thrilled to meet him, and sympathetic when she realized Aslan had lived a much different life than her and her brother. It wasn’t long until she felt like his own sister. When she moved to Tokyo for college, he nearly cried with how proud he was.

“You’re not wearing mom’s kimono this year,” Eiji pointed out.

Usually, Mari would wear a deep blue kimono with a stunningly complex design depicting a soaring phoenix and a gold-colored obi. It was passed down through many generations until it was owned by their mother, and now her. Now she was wearing a pale yellow kimono with a much simpler chrysanthemum pattern and pink obi with a chrysanthemum obidome to match. Mari gave a sad smile. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I just didn’t want something so… connected to her anymore. So my friends took me shopping and I found this. Don’t worry though, I didn’t throw away the other one or anything. It’s still in my closet.” “I think it looks good. Suits you,” said Aslan. Eiji nodded his head. This time, Mari beamed.

Being the very first day of the New Year, the temple was crowded with all sorts of people. The chozuya was completely packed, and it took them a few minutes before they were able to purify their hands. Ash always wondered if his hands could ever be truly pure, but he tried not to think about that as he poured the water. It was supposed to be a day of celebration and good luck. He didn’t want his thoughts to ruin that.

Every year, Aslan wished to the gods for protection. Protection from violence, from grief, from assault, from everything that made his life miserable for so long. This year was no different. However, there was something else this year he needed extra luck for. He prayed for that too.

Next, they went to exchange their omamori. Aslan chose the protection charm, as he did every year, and Mari chose the education charm. Usually, Eiji would get the protection charm just as Aslan did. This time he chose the success charm. “What goal do you want to be successful?” Mari asked.

“This year, I’m determined to have my own photo gallery.” It was a goal he had for a while, but this year he was going to have the luck of the gods on his side.

Finally, they needed to pull their o-mikuji.

“I’m a little nervous,” Mari jokes. Most of the time she had negative fortunes. However, this year, she would apparently have a future blessing (and small luck in her romantic relationships). Aslan was given half-blessing with lots of luck in travel. Then it was Eiji’s turn.

“Curse…”

“Well, it could be worse,” Aslan said, “at least you’re not super-mega-cursed.”

Eiji just sighed and folded up the paper.

“You’re not gonna read the rest of it?” “Nah. Not really a point.”

As they left the shrine, Eiji trailed behind and sulked.

Aslan gave Mari a nudge.

“You talk to him, you're the psychology major. I’m no good at this stuff.”

Mari nodded and went to walk beside Eiji.

“Listen, if it’s just a regular curse, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. It’s mostly just little everyday inconveniences. The worst I’ve experienced with just a regular curse is that really bad breakup I had with Yui.” “With who??” “Hush, Aslan, this isn’t about you. Anyways, I don’t think you have anything to really worry about.”

When they get to the parking lot, they have to part ways. Mari made plans to go visit some of her old friends, and Aslan and Eiji had to return home, as they were going to host dinner that night.

When Aslan and Eiji arrived home, they were greeted by a very excitable golden retriever. They had gotten him about a year ago, when he was just a year old, from a local shelter. Even then, he still acted a little bit like a puppy.

“Hey, Bud,” Aslan said as he knelt down to pet Buddy. The dog jumped up to lick his face.

“Should we start dinner now?” Eiji asked as he put down his stuff and made his way to the kitchen.

“You can. Might as well. Just in case someone comes early or something.”

“You can’t just spend all afternoon petting Buddy, you know.” “I know, I know! I’ll help you in a minute.”

Buddy didn’t seem to mind all the extra attention he was getting, though. But eventually, Aslan had to go help his partner.

“Alright, so what’s the plan?” asked Aslan as he put on his apron. He didn’t always help in the kitchen, his skill level was limited to basic survival foods, but over the years he got better and better at it. It felt very domestic, to cook alongside someone.

“How about you start on the datemaki? I’ll make the ramen.”

Aslan nodded, and they both started getting their ingredients. The kitchen was large enough that they could work around each other comfortably, and it wasn’t long until the kitchen started to smell delicious. Buddy noticed this, and trotted over to beg for treats.

“I have nothing for you,” Aslan said. Still, Buddy sat beside him, wagging his tail and giving him an expectant look. Aslan tried to ignore him as he started to whine, focusing on mixing the ingredients together.

“Here, Buddy!” Eiji called the dog, waving a large bone. Buddy instantly jumped up and ran over, wagging his tail furiously. Eiji then gave him the bone, which Buddy took to the living room happily.

“There we go, that’ll keep him occupied,” Eiji smiled. Aslan couldn’t help but smile back.

They continued cooking nonstop into the evening. As time went on, the more dishes they completed, and the more it started to look like a full meal. However, they were still pretty far from done.

Aslan sighed as he stretched. There was enough time to just take a tiny little break, he thought. He leaned against the counter and looked over at Eiji. His partner seemed distracted by something as he stared off into space.

“Hey.”

“Ah!” Eiji jumped, fumbling the bag of flour he was holding before dropping it on the counter.

“Ohhh no!” he exclaimed. Aslan chuckled slightly before helping his partner clean up the mess.

“Looks like your bad luck has officially begun.”

“Don’t even joke about that!” Eiji said as he smacked the other with a floured towel. Ash looked down at his arm then back up at Eiji with a smile.

“Really? You wanna start this?” He dipped his thumb in the flour before smudging it across Eiji’s cheek.

“You’re on!”

And that’s how it started, a full-blown flour war.

Nothing was spared. Flour was thrown, smudged, and flew everywhere. The counters, the floor, their clothes, their skin, their hair and skin, all of it was covered in at least a thin layer of flour.

It was stupid, it was childish, they had wasted an entire bag just making everything dirty. But they didn’t care. It was fun. They were having fun and messing around together. At that moment, they weren’t thinking about having to clean up and get back to cooking, they just thought about each other.

The couple just laid on the floor together as Buddy sniffed around them before licking Aslan in the face.

“No, Buddy!” Aslan squealed, pushing Buddy’s face away. The dog just wagged his tail as his owners helped each other up.

“You’re a mess,” Eiji laughed.

“Speak for yourself! You’re even dirtier than me! Go take a shower, I’ll clean this all up.”

Eiji kissed Aslan’s floured cheek before going to wash himself and his clothes.

Once everything was all clean, both of them included, they had to work faster in order to get everything done by the time their guests would arrive. Occasionally, though, they would look over at each other, and laugh silently before getting back to work.

Eventually, they had a complete New Year’s Day dinner. Eiji set the table while Aslan arranged the food into the boxes.

“Well, I’d say it looks pretty good,” Aslan said.

“We make a pretty good team!” Eiji shouted from the dining room.

When everything was all set for their guests to arrive, they high-fived to celebrate their hard work. It was the first time they cooked for New Year’s all on their own, and it was the first time they would be hosting.

The first to arrive were Ibe and his wife, Namiko. They met shortly after he returned to Japan, and she was a very kind woman, the kind that got along with all her neighbors and would check in on them from time to time. The couple greeted their hosts warmly with hugs and a bottle of sake.

Buddy was thrilled to have guests, and quickly ran over to receive pets from two of his many favorite humans.

It wasn’t much longer after that when Mari arrived, and the party officially started. Chatter filled the house as they ate. They talked about everything that had happened during the past year, everything they accomplished, and everything they hoped to accomplish this year.

“Well, I have no complaints,” Ibe said, “We traveled a lot this year for work.”

“It was great! So many fun new places we visited,” Namiko said.

“Mine was just another normal year of classes. I made a new group of friends, and they’re really great," Mari said through a mouthful of food.

“We adopted our dog,” Eiji beamed. Buddy was resting in the living room. After a while of whining for food, he had finally given up, and they knew if they mentioned him by name he would come over and start begging again.

The party went on late into the night as they continued to chat and drink. Everyone’s spirits couldn’t be higher as they celebrated the past and welcomed in the future, giving a toast for good luck. Eventually, though, the night had to end. They said their goodbyes to each other, and the guests went home, leaving Aslan and Eiji to clean up.

Aslan felt content as he washed the dishes. It was a great night, surrounded by people he loved. Seven years in Japan. He hadn’t felt like Ash Lynx in so long. He felt like he had control over his life.

A partner, a house, a dog, a legal job, friends, a little sister. The old ladies on his street fawned over him as if he was free from sin. The local coffee shop knew his face and order by heart. Nobody feared him, they were all friendly towards him, and treated him as if he really was normal.

Oftentimes it felt unreal. But as he sat on the couch, Eiji nestled into his side, he knew it was.

“Thank you,” Eiji murmured.

“For what?”

“For helping out today. For everything you do. You’re so good to me.”

Aslan smiled softly.

“I should be the one saying that to you.”

“How about we’re both good to each other?”

“Yeah,” Aslan whispered, “I can agree with that.”

The next few days of the New Year were spent with Mari. The plan was for her to go back to Tokyo on the fourth, when the holiday was over, so they wanted as much time with her as they could.

During the Japanese New Year, businesses are closed for the next three days. They couldn't go to restaurants, shops, or the market. So mostly, they just spent time at Aslan and Eiji’s house. Watching TV, playing board games, and video games on the SNES they got a few years back. They could also go to the beach.

Izumo was a coastal town, with cliff sides to the north, and a long, thin strip of beach to the west. When the three of them stepped out of the car, they were glad they brought thick coats, as there was a cold breeze.

“Come on Buddy!” Eiji said as he opened the car door. The dog jumped out of the car, wagging his tail happily.

The beach was an important place in Izumo, something Aslan had learned shortly after he moved. On the northern shore of the beach, there was a very large rock with a small shrine on top, too high for humans to reach. Every October, the gods would come to Izumo, and convene at the beach and its shrine.

Aside from it being a spiritual place, the beach was also just beautiful. It reminded Aslan of when he was younger, when he and Griffin would run across the sand and splash in the waves. Sometimes, when he and Eiji would take a walk along the beach, they would see children or a family, and he would feel a bit of nostalgia.

Now, he walked this beach with his new family.

It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was low in the sky. They were only planning for it to be a relatively short walk, and would return to the car not long after the sun fully set. It was just nice to get some fresh air.

The trio walked in silence, aside from Buddy’s pants, until Aslan broke it.

“You know, Mari, you got a pretty interesting fortune this year,” he said.

Eiji caught on to what he meant. “Yeah! Are you excited for it?”

“For the future fortune? I guess so. It’s better than I get most years,” she said.

“No no, I mean about your romance fortune,” Aslan smiled.

Mari became slightly flustered, glaring at the couple. They just laughed in response.

“You should really get back out there again,” Eiji teased, “You’re not still heartbroken over Yui are you?”

Mari lightly punched her brother in the side.

“Of course not! That was the beginning of high school! Butt out of my love life!”

“But you, dear sister, are the one that butted into my love life when I went to America.”

“I shall have you know, dear brother, that I have matured since then. Besides, the charm I gave you worked, didn’t it?”

Eiji looked over at Aslan with a smile and squeezed his hand.

“Yeah. It did.”

The sun had begun to set at this point, halfway across the horizon. It was a beautiful sight, soft pinks and reds across the sky. The three stopped to admire it, Buddy sitting beside them.

“I think this is a moment worth capturing,” Eiji said. He got the polaroid camera from around his neck. They all posed close together, Aslan picking up Buddy so he could be in the shot, with the sunset in the background.

“Smile!”

Click.

The photo printed slowly, and Eiji shook it so it could develop faster.

It showed the four of them, happy in smiling, in the place they loved so much. They waited for the sun to set fully before returning home.

Instantly, the photo went up on their wall.

Unfortunately, the fourth eventually came, and Mari had to leave. At the train station, they said their goodbyes.

“Be sure to write!” Eiji said as she waved.

“I always do!”

With that, the train doors closed, and she left Izumo. Since it was the first day of the new year that businesses were open, Aslan decided he might as well go run some errands.

“See you at home,” he said as he pecked Eiji on the cheek.

“Mhm, see you.” Eiji waved goodbye to him.

The first stop was the coffee shop. Why not, right? It was a very cozy little shop and the majority of the patrons were locals and regulars. When the barista noticed him, he smiled.

“The usual?”

Aslan nodded, and the barista got to work. The coffee shop was relatively small compared to those in America, and it was warmly lit. As Aslan sat at the counter watching the barista he felt the chill of the mid-winter weather.

“Here’s your coffee,” the barista said as he placed the mug in front of Aslan. Most people see Aslan as the type of person to drink straight black coffee. And for a while, he was. As soon as he was “old enough” to drink coffee, he would drink it without sugar or creamer. It fit the persona he had and made him seem more mature to those around him. Now he didn’t care about any of that. He made his coffee super sweet. Tons of sugar, tons of creamer, because that was the way he actually liked it.

Usually, he would take the time to stay and chat with the barista for a bit. He was a funny and friendly guy, most of the reason Aslan liked this coffee shop in particular. However, today he had the odd urge to get home as much as possible. Maybe it was just because of the chill, he thought.

The next stop was the grocery store. They only really needed things to replace what they had used to cook dinner on New Years, including the flour that they had wasted.

He absentmindedly went through the small store until a voice called out to him from behind.

“My dear Aslan!”

He turned around to see his neighbor, Mrs. Tanaka. She was an old woman, kind as can be like almost everyone else in the neighborhood, who loved to garden in her front lawn and chat him up whenever she saw him. Aslan greeted her back and smiled.

“How have you been? How’s Eiji? Did you have a good new year?”

“Everything is good. How was your trip?”

The two chatted for a bit, catching up on things that happened since the last time they talked. Most of his neighbors he could strike up a conversation with just like this. It was the kind of neighborhood he could see himself and Eiji growing old in. It was a weird thought, to grow old with someone in a small town, but it was right.

They said their goodbyes, and Aslan continued shopping as normal.

When Aslan came home, the front door was unlocked. Huh. Maybe Eiji just forgot. However, when he opened the door, he was met with a horrible sight.

There lay Buddy, unmoving, in a pool of blood.

Aslan dropped his bags and rushed to his dear pet. He picked him up gently as tears began to fall.

How did this even happen? When? Why wasn’t he here to stop it?

That’s when he saw it. The wound on Buddy’s neck. A bullet wound. Someone… shot Buddy. There was no way. He was supposed to be safe in Japan. He was supposed to be safe with Eiji. Eiji... “Eiji!” he shouted. No response. He shouted again. The house was silent. Aslan gently placed down Buddy’s body. He had to make sure Eiji was okay. Eiji had to be okay, right?

Aslan crept through the house silently, listening for any sounds that might lead him towards Eiji or the intruder. As he approached the kitchen, he saw a pot on the stove bubbling over, so he turned off the stove. This whole thing must have happened fairly recently. A knife was also missing from the drawer.

Finally, he made his way to the bedroom.

What he saw terrified him.

Eiji. Sprawled across the floor, next to the open closet doors as if he had been pulled out, a knife in his hand. A bullet in his forehead. His eyes were wide open, and his cheeks were stained with tears.

Ash fell to his knees. This couldn’t be happening. Eiji couldn’t be dead. He was dreaming, he was hallucinating, this was some kind of joke. What separated him from his old life now? What stopped him from being Ash Lynx again?

Ash sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed. His love had been murdered. The bastard shot his dog, too. Why? He didn’t do anything. Neither of them did anything. It wasn’t fair.

He reached into the closet and pulled out a small box. Inside was a silver engagement ring. He picked up Eiji’s greying, cold hand and slipped the ring onto his finger.

“I know that we could never get married legally. But I still wanted to think of you as my husband. After all we had been through, didn’t we deserve that much?”

Eiji didn’t respond. His glossed-over eyes stared at nothing. Ash closed them.

“My soul will always be with you.”

--------

This might turn into a chaptered fic

Thank you to @syanara for betaing!

Tag list: @mycatshuman

[peachfaeryy]

Hi 🌙

It's my birthday right now. I'm 26 now.

1. What is my fondest childhood memory?

My fondest childhood memories definitely consist of the lovely people who I grew up with and derived my sense of humor/silliness from: my cousins Anna & Emily, Savannah -- my childhood best friend, and Kaleb, my eternal crush. These memories consist of them in elementary school, camp, and my grandma's house in San Antonio.

2. What is my favorite comfort food?

Probably nachos/chips/chips & queso.

3. What’s my favorite way to exercise?

Uh...DANCE.

4. Am I a morning person or a night owl?

I lean more towards night owl but I try to avoid both.

5. If I could have any superpower, what would it be?

The currency of youth.

6. Do I prefer cooking, baking, or neither?

I love both cooking and baking :) I find both extremely rewarding and cathartic.

7. Am I an introvert or an extrovert?

Ambivert strongly introvert-leaning.

8. What superhero do I find most relatable?

None, I detest all superheroes.

9. What is my favorite season of the year — and what do I love most about it?

Winter because it provides me with the most amount of physical comfort. I love sleeping in a very cold room, opening my windows with no AC on. Sitting in my car listening to music/eating with engine off. Less humidity. Food is tastier. Style is better.

10. Do I believe in the existence of angels?

Not particularly? Well, yes but I believe they have absolutely no role or effect on our world.

11. What are my favorite TV series?

American Crime Story (OJ & Versace), Fleabag, Atlanta...90 Day Fiance, Game of Thrones

12. What was the last movie I watched (or the last movie I enjoyed)?

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (let's gooOoo)

13. Am I a tidy person or a messy one?

I used to be very messy but not I'd consider myself pretty tidy. My nature is messy though.

14. Am I afraid of the dark?

Nah.

15. Am I more of a coffee person or a tea person?

Mostly coffee.

16. What talents do I possess that I’m proud of?

I don't have any natural-born talents but I suppose my ability to teach myself a new skill over time.

17. Do (or did) I like school?

I loved school and literally work at a school.

18. Did I go to the prom?

Unfortunately, yes.

19. What is my idea of a perfect date?

Definitely grabbing pizza at a nice restaurant.

20. Do I enjoy DIY or crafts?

Not at all, sounds awful, lol.

21. Do I forgive others easily?

Yes. But not so much anymore now that I'm older and more experienced. My instinct/nature is very forgiving.

22. Do I have a nickname — or did I ever have one?

None.

23. Do I have any phobias?

I'm scared of most anything anything everything...I'd say my daily fear is mistaking my razor for my toothbrush in the shower.

24. Have I ever met one of my heroes? If yes, who was it, and how did it go?

No?

25. Do I speak any other languages?

No, but I told myself I would learn Spanish before I die.

26. Have I ever traveled outside my native country?

Yes! I have been the Mexico and Ireland.

27. If money were no object, what would I want for my next birthday?

Maybe a trip to South Korea/Germany/Rhode Island

28. Have I ever been addicted to something?

Yes. But as far as substances? I'm addicted to Nsaid.

29. When I was a kid, what did I want to be when I grew up?

I wanted to be a wildlife photographer when I was a kid-kid.

30. Have I ever won something?

$75 with scratch offs

31. Have I ever narrowly escaped death (or serious injury)?

I'd say so, yes.

32. Do I prefer baths or showers?

Showers.

33. How am I feeling right now?

Changed.

34. Have I ever played any sports?

Soccer, Basketball, and cross-country

35. Do I prefer the beach or the mountains?

Beach, but I feel connected to both.

36. Do I prefer a Mac or a PC?

Uh...PC?

37. Do I prefer dogs or cats (or some other pet)?

Cats...I honestly do not like dogs at all.

38. Do I have any piercings or tattoos? Would I like to get any?

I have three tattoos: three rune, a sword, and a butterfly. All of which are on my arms.

39. Do I have kids?

Not right now.

40. Do I have siblings?

None.

41. What do I do on a typical Friday night?

Same thing I usually do: practice dance/choreo for a couple of hours. Read, cook, watch Youtube. If I’m going out, I’ll maybe grab dinner/hang with my friends. I MAY go to ~the club~ in a blue moon.

42. If I could go anywhere in the world with unlimited funds, where would I go?

SOUTH KOREA

43. What do I do to relax?

Shower, listen to music. Do my makeup for fun.

44. What do I do to wake up or boost my energy levels?

Blast Stray Kids

45. Would I rather have unlimited energy or unlimited money?

Unlimited money

46. Am I a collector of anything? If yes, how big is my collection?

I collect Kpop bullshit...(albums, photo cards, posters, etc.) essentially merch from my favorite artists.

47. What sort of gift would I want from my significant other on Valentine’s Day or on my birthday?

JUST flowers. All I care about it getting flowers on both of those days.

48. Which would I rather avoid — excess heat or extreme cold?

Excess heat.

49. Would movie genre would I rather watch: action, romance, fantasy, or horror?

Of those choices: horror. I also like a solid journey story.

50. Have I ever been on a diet? If yes, how did it go?

More like a mini eating disorder, lol? I went through phases where I only consumed 1500 calories.

51. If I could live anywhere for a month with whomever I choose, where would that be?

Greece with I suppose...someone I get along with.

52. Have I ever gone camping? Or do you look at a tent and think, “I feel like that’s the wonton wrapper, and I’m the filling.”

Yes, several times. I actually thoroughly enjoy camping.

53. What’s the last song I listened to?

Ribs -- Lorde

54. What’s my current obsession, and how much have I spent on it?

Anything kpop...hours. I’m talking hours and hours.

55. What’s a favorite book of mine?

We Need to Talk About Kevin

56. What should I be doing right now?

Sleeping.

57. What’s my best feature?

Physically? Boobs.

Personality? I would say kindness but that’s basic. Witty? Self-discipline.  

58. What’s the most expensive article of clothing (or shoes) that I own?

Damn...shoes...? $100?

59. What is one thing I could not live without?

Music. My one coping mechanism and literally the reason I’m alive and functional.

60. What’s one thing I can’t leave the house without (other than keys and my wallet)?

Phone... BC packet?

61. What’s one of my pet peeves?

Slow walkers

62. What wild animal would I love to have for a pet (as long as it didn’t eat anyone)?

Maybe like...a toucan?

63. What’s my favorite drink?

An ICE COLD fizzy SODA boiii

64. What’s my spirit animal, and do I own anything featuring that animal?

I guess I’m very cat-like. I used to have a lot of cat stuff, but not anymore...

65. What’s my favorite restaurant, and what’s my favorite splurge order?

I like basically any fast food joint. I’m also a sucker for Chili’s. I’m really basic. A splurge order for me would be ordering a margarita with my meal.

66. What’s my favorite movie — or the best one I’ve seen in the last three years?

I’ve been obsessed with We Need to Talk About Kevin, Pirates of the Caribbean...I’ve been wanting to rewatch Little Miss Sunshine

67. What’s a favorite hobby of mine?

Dancing :)

68. What’s my favorite go-to snack?

Health-wise: apples and peanut butter. But if I don’t care: chips

69. What are my must-haves for watching a movie in a theater?

True interest in the film

70. What’s my favorite kind of competition to watch (sports, cooking, etc.)?

Not really into competition shows.

71. Would I rather get an electric shock or get an intramuscular shot (tetanus, etc.)?

Electric shock?

72. What’s my dream car?

Bella’s shitty red truck let’s gooooo

73. What are the must-haves in the home of my dreams?

LOTS of open space, sunlight, heated bathroom floor

74. What’s my favorite sandwich?

Chicken salad, BLT, plain peanut butter

75. What’s my favorite kind of dinner? (comfort food, four-course, take-out Chinese…)

Comfort food

76. If I could change my eye and hair color, what color/s would I choose?

I would DEF change my eye color to a warm brown and my hair to very dark brown. I’m growing my natural hair out. I’m going dye-free right now.

77. Who is my favorite fictional character (or one of them)?

Jack Sparrow

78. What’s my longest relationship so far (other than family)?

4 years...

79. What is my star sign — or do I usually avoid that question?

I DO NOT care about this but I’m a Leo

80. What is my lucky number, or what is a favorite number of mine?

Uh? N/A

81. What city do I live in now, and what’s my favorite thing about it?

I still live in Denton and I detest it.

82. What state do I live in now, and what do I love about it?

Texas, its diversity.

83. If I had to move to a different state, where would I rather go?

New Mexico

84. Have I ever colored my hair? If yes, what’s my favorite hair color experiment so far?

Yes, most of my teen and adult life. But my “crazy” hair experiment right now is going dye-free and wearing my natural color.

85. Whom do I miss right now?

My 14-year-old self

86. Have I ever made a mistake that someone else refused to forgive me for?

Apparently.

87. Do I have a celebrity crush? If yes, who is it?

JOHNNY DEPP and all of Stray Kids lol. Jungkook?

88. If I could meet any celebrity for coffee/tea and a chat, who would it be?

Marina Diamandis

89. As desserts go, would I rather have ice cream or cheesecake?

Ice Cream

90. Would I rather live in a house or an apartment, and why?

A small house.

91. Would I rather live in a treehouse, a cave, or a submarine?

Treehouse

92. What is one big goal that I want to accomplish this year?

Move out of D*nton.

93. What do I want to do for a living?

I’m happy being a teacher, but ultimately I’d like to counsel kids.

94. When I feel sick, where do I usually feel it first or most noticeably?

My head.

95. What sort of smartphone do I use, and what made me choose it?

Uh? Android?

96. What’s one movie that I’ve watched repeatedly? What do I love about it?

I watch signs pretty frequently. Midsommar? I connect with its characters because they seem like real actual people? I’ve been wanting to rewatch the Lovely Bones.

100. If I could afford one, would I rather hire a chef, a personal assistant, or a housekeeper?

Housekeeper!

97. What is one food that I refuse to eat?

Liver

98. What exotic food would I be willing to try?

I’d be open to trying most any food.

99. What is one item on my bucket list, and what made me choose it?

I’m kind of working on it now. I want to put a few years in while I’m young and able to become a very good dancer. I know that to obtain that it IS going to take years. It’s something that’s really important to me because I’ve always wanted that for myself but never made actual steps to obtain/execute it. And ultimately, I want it because it allows me to feel like my true self.

[mari-vargas]

Ok so I’m sitting waiting for my car to get an oil change (yes…the alert popped up Monday afternoon…just a day after my whole tire adventure), and since I just told this story yet again recently (to my tow truck driver on Sunday) I figured I’d share one of my “when it rains it pours” stories about my car. This is the story I mentioned in the teaser/reminder post, about my car transmission.

So I was headed home from university for winter break one year, and I had my two cats and a friend from high school that wound up eventually following me to university. Wow I just realized how much I’d love to tell the story about this friend of mine, but it’s a whole thing in and of itself so I’ll get into that another time…maybe soon so I’ll make a bit more sense…idk it’ll be fine I’m sure.

Anyways, we lived about an eight and a half hour drive away from our university. We were about an hour and a half to two hours in to our drive, in an area looking just like any other on the main stretch of the journey and I had no clue where precisely I was. All of a sudden, my car started making a weird noise. I’m not even sure I can describe it, but I absolutely will still recognize it to this day and am terrified of hearing it. When my tire was about to blow out it started making a similar noise and it’s only because it was missing the next few things to happen that I didn’t freak out as bad as the first time my battery died. ANYWAYS after it started making a sort of…clunking sound, it started revving (which I will be perfectly honest, happens sometimes with my car especially going at higher speeds with resistance like air or a slight incline or a slight decline), but the next two things were especially weird. The needle on my rpm meter started hard swinging back and forth like a pendulum on a grandfather clock even though I was keeping a steady pressure on my accelerator…and then my acceleration started rapidly declining.

I was in the far left lane of a three lane section of the freeway, and I was rapidly decelerating without any idea why or any ability to get myself to go faster. Also couldn’t find my hazard lights because it wasn’t in the same place as the car I had learned in. Anyways…somehow, miraculously, and with an awful lot of anger on other drivers parts (mostly towards the end because I was freaking out and didn’t just stop) I managed to get all the way over before the next exit, exited, waited at a light to turn left like an absolute dummy, and very very slowly made it into the parking lot of some sort of mall or shopping center thing. Where I then parked, and proceeded to freak the heck out. My friend was freaking out too and honestly I think I had more knowledge about what to do than he did, which considering the near white out panic I was in for at least a moment there is kinda saying something. I didn’t know what was wrong with my car. I tried to compare it to things I’d seen happen and just…didn’t know. My gas was full, the battery seemed to be working, tires all fine of course (don’t even remember if I’d even thought about tires at the time). All I knew was that my car had stopped accelerating at all. Maybe there was something wrong with my accelerator? I just didn’t know. It was out of my depth for what I knew how to deal with.

I started messaging everyone—texting because autocorrect could carry me through the worst of my hands shaking, fingers slipping, and eyes blurring which were all getting in the way of my ability to call anybody. I remember talking a lot with my sister, and a bit with my dad, probably even my mom at some point (who would’ve had a significantly leveler head and some more info than my dad). My sister meanwhile was talking and relaying information back and forth with my niece’s dad who was a mechanic at several points before and during the time we knew him (honestly don’t know if he currently was or wasn’t at that exact time but knowledge and skill like his doesn’t just go away). But whatever I’m amongst all that my sister was also the first to remind me about the AAA our grandma has gotten for all of her grandkids as soon as they start driving (yes, same grandma I travel with all the time. Makes sense, no? Always glad she’s able to do that for the five us).

So I call AAA and my friend is on the phone talking with his mom. My dad, knowing I could get a tow up to 100mi, sends me the address for a steak house exactly 100mi from the shopping center I was in (and had a decent sized parking lot for trucks). Tow truck pulls up, finds out I actually really am aiming for the full 100mi, calls his boss to get clearance for the long distance tow rather than the in town tow he was told he was cleared for because he didn’t want to pass us off to someone else since I guess he was sorta attached to making sure we got through this after hearing probably a full blown spiel from me, gets the OK and loads up my little red spark which I had cracked the windows of for my cats. We all hop into the cab of the truck and he goes and gasses up and as we’re pulling out of the truck gas station, I realize where I am. My car had died just past the exit I usually would stop for coffee at. Needless to say I was a bit superstitious after that and always stopped at that coffee shop either direction after that, whether I needed coffee or not.

So he tows us to the steak house a hundred miles away and it’s dark and the tow truck driver is concerned about leaving us in the middle of nowhere but I reassured him that I have someone with a car trailer ���on their way already. In case you’re wondering, that would be my sister’s coparent (here on referred to as B) with mechanic experience who would also fix up friends’ cars on the side and even had a couple of project cars.

So yeah we’re waiting there my cats are fine, frustrated over not being done with being in a car yet but seemingly understanding something unusual and out of my control had happened. It’s dark and around late dinner time. There’s a chain restaurant of some kind across the way, so my friend and I walk over there to get some dinner. Before that though, we had a talk because well…we’re wandering around in the dark. Now my friend, he’s tall like super tall and has a face that would at least warn away casual glances. However. He cannot throw a punch or literally defend himself in just about any way whatsoever. Me on the other hand, I unfortunately look like easy pickings. But I can throw a punch and otherwise escape an attacker and potentially help others get away too. So we had an agreement. He’d be there looking big and tough and warning away people, but if anything actually happened I’d be the one throwing fists and feet and getting us out.

I mean, we were fine. Got our food, got back to the car, no problem. But fact remains we had to have that conversation. Anyways it was another 2-4 hours before B showed up with the trailer. But show up eventually he did and he got us loaded up and into his truck (with my cats WITH me this time) and we hit the road, dropping my friend off with his mom at around 0100 and I finally made it home about half an hour after. He left my car on his trailer to get in the morning to take to the dealership.

So the dealership takes a look at it and says “well the transmission is completely dead, good news it’s still covered under the factory warranty.” It took a good while to be replaced but it was and again it was all on warranty.

Now I said “when it rains it pours”.

I could’ve just meant it was something major, out of nowhere right? But no…unfortunately, no. This was the winter break I’d been volunteering at that museum (have I mentioned this before? Eh….) and since I didn’t have my car I borrowed my mom’s. When I finally got my car back, we decided to keep having me use my mom’s car because I’d had to register it with security so they’d know not to charge me for parking. So my car sat in the driveway for the next…let’s say two weeks before I had to head back to university (again with my friend and cats in tow).

So it’s now I think the day before I leave and my dad takes my car to the grocery store and to gas it up for me while I’m working. Only…it doesn’t start. Or gives him problems or something I don’t even know the specifics. B can’t look at it before I have to leave, so we decide to just have my mom and I swap until spring. B came over maybe halfway through my drive and found a rodent nest in the engine compartment (rabbit or rat, we’re not entirely sure). Abandoned, but it looked like they’d chewed through some wires and other connectors to make room for their home. B got it taped together just enough for it to be taken back to the dealership to be properly fixed. It was.

BUT THEN (oh you thought it was over? Haha eh… almost)

It’s not quite spring break yet so my mom and I still have each other’s cars. My mom went to turn the key (on or off I honestly don’t know) and it broke. It was apparently a bit of an adventure for her involving at least three different shops but she got it replaced.

My little red car was running beautifully by the time I got it back 🤣

[tonystarkbingo]

Title Prompt Game - Tags and Summaries

like a warm blanket - suggested by @rebelmeg

@somesortofitalianroast - fluff, snowed in, only one bed

@huntress79 - There's a reason Tony loves being in the workshop - but not the one most think it is. No, it's not that he knows the place blind, or that he loves (even craves) the attention the bots give him - no, it's because it's his safe harbor, the only place where he can really be him, and the one place that is to Tony what a warm blanket on a cold day is to other people.

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Steve never liked the cold, ever since he was little. But after the ice? He loathed it. It always brought up feelings and memories he'd rather keep buried. ~ Or the five times Steve struggled to find something to keep him warm at night, and the time he learned he could just use Tony.

@jamesbuckystark - Tony Stark has self-esteem issues. Only the closest of the closest of his friends know this. On his bad days, they cuddle up with him and whisper words of love and encouragement, comforting him like a warm blanket

@psychiccatpanda - [potential ironhusbands] Tony hadn’t worried when Rhodey’d fallen asleep on his shoulder during movie night.  His sour patch had been burning the candle at both ends lately splitting his time between DC and New York.  But then Rhodey had draped an arm over him and now he was stuck there unless he disturbed him.  On the other hand, it wasn’t that bad... it was cozy - like a warm blanket

@rebelmeg - self-esteem issues, sincere compliments, love confessions

@huntress79 - (WinterIron pre-Relationship) If there's one thing Bucky learned about Howard's boy in the first few weeks he was living in the Tower it was Tony's stubbornness, by times as worse as Steve's. So, of course, Bucky watched the genius. And was the first to notice something off - Tony was getting a cold, and he was fighting it. He just didn't expect the former Winter Soldier, of all people, to bring him chicken soup, warm blankets, a cot and a gazillion of other things into the workshop. Huh - who would have guessed that?

@lbibliophile-mcu - [recovering-bucky] Living with Steve was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Nice on cold evenings, soft and comforting. But sometimes, it can also be confining, smothering. Sometimes, what he needs instead is the freedom of cold air.

Keep reading for more!

Cappuccino, extra shot - suggested by @somesortofitalianroast

@huntress79 - (Road to Stony XD) Despite working as a Barista in a coffee shop, Steve never really liked all the fancy coffees he made for the customers. Until one day, when torrential rain sweeps a new customer into the shop - hot, elegant, smart-mouthed and way above Steve's league. And pretty much the only guy in all of Manhattan to always order the same thing - Cappuccino, with an extra shot of (insert ingredient of choice)...

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Tony would never be seen dead walking into a coffee shop. Why would he go for overvalued, overcooked, too sweet coffee when he has the best beans imported and prepared by his very own live-in barista? He has access to the best coffee 24/7. But his barista goes on parental leave, and Tony finds that brewing his own coffee, isn't one of his many talents. So, if he is to get his daily fix, he has to go to a coffee shop. Tony is miserable about the whole situation, that is until he meets an art student called Steve working to pay his way through college.

@psychiccatpanda - (pre-WinterIron) It wasn’t a difficult drink to make.  So why was it that this guy never made his cappuccino right?  Tony frowned into the froth on top.  And part of the fun of going to a coffee shop and buying cappuccino was seeing what kind of foam design you’d get.  This guy - James, according to his name tag - apparently only knew how to make hearts.  Come on.  Tony walked back to the counter to complain again. Behind the counter, Bucky could feel Natasha’s eyes on him like a dagger between his shoulder blades.  He’d done it again, just to talk to his most gorgeous customer... who also thought he was an idiot.

@lbibliophile-mcu - "aw, coffee, no" Clint stares despondently at the paper takeaway cup in his hand, the scalding brown liquid running over his wrist to drip on the floor. When he ordered a cappuccino double shot, this was not what he meant. Another loud gunshot echoes in the street outside. Chugging the remaining elixir, he throws the ruined cup in a bin, wipes his hand on his pants, and grabs his bow. Looks like he has a coffee to avenge.

@rebelmeg -  tags: coffee shops, love at first sight, awkward flirting

Bitch boy - suggested by @phoenixmetaphor3000

@tehroserose - tags: BDSM, humiliation, consensual nonconsent

@somesortofitalianroast - [Tony/Bucky] : au: sex work, au: camboys, au: bdsm

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - He was Tony Stark's bitch. Everything else didn't matter. Everything else was stripped away by his Master, his Sir. 100 odd years on this earth, and he finally found his place... and it was at his master's feet.

@summerpipedream - "Excuse you??" screeched Tony. He shoved his paper cup, somehow already devoid of the coffee poured in there 5 seconds ago, into Rhodey's hands before he launches himself at the asshole yellling at them. 5 times Tony was called a bitch and the one time he actually did something about it.

@tehroserose Winterironfalcon- Tony was his bitch. And that's the way he liked it. But, still, he was going to take care of his boy, in his way. And Tony had a fantasy. He wanted to be taken by a stranger, a stranger who didn't listen when he said no. Sam wasn't willing to give him to a stranger. But Bucky? Bucky looked at his bitch with longing. And Sam trusted Bucky. And Tony? Tony didn't need to trust Bucky to do anything other than to listen to Sam and his safeword. And Tony liked it that way. (Tag: Porn with feelings, It was just sex, (no it wasn't), established Sam/Tony, pre Sam/Tony/Bucky)

@huntress79 - (Stony secret relationship) Ever since they fought the Chitauri, everyone knows that Tony and Steve barely get along. Sure, they got a bit better after Tony's almost death, but yeah, it could be better. But then, one morning, the Avengers are shocked to hear Tony calling Steve "Bitch" and - even more shocking - Steve replying with "Jerk" What the heck is going on now? (the Bitch-Jerk exchange is borrowed from Supernatural XD)

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - He hated Alphas so much. He hasn't ever met one that had a single good intention in their life. All they ever did was take and destroy. This he learned first hand when he was 15 in a back ally after saving Dorothy Elliott from a couple of Alphas. It didn't matter that he was an Alpha himself, he was small and Omega enough for them, a "Bitch Boy". Steve Rogers hated Alphas and was sure he always would. But then he met Tony Stark and his whole world changed... (Tags: Implied/Referenced R*pe, Alpha/Alpha Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Tony Stark has a Heart, Falling in Love)

@psychiccatpanda - Tony had been called worse before - much worse.  He'd asked Natasha to be his date for the conference because the Avengers thought he needed a bodyguard for an International Energy Council conference.  At least she didn't look like a bodyguard. Justin Hammer had been trying to get his attention for a day and a half when he'd yelled it loud enough for a ballroom full of people to hear.  He saw red and turned to do something rash (like break Hammer's nose) when he felt a strong hand on his wrist.  Tony twisted around to snap at Nat when she pulled him in for a kiss.  Suddenly, swift and blinding vengeance didn't seem quite so important.

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Steve Rogers loses a bet with Tony, now he was at Tony's every beck and call. Steve and Tony's relationship is strained as it is, he's not sure it'll make it through this. Tony was milking it for what it was worth; making him wear the maid outfit, making him pick up things he dropped, fetching him drinks. Then Tony goes ahead and calls him "bitch boy" He expected to be fuming, insulted, angry, hurt... but Steve finds he actually likes it. Both are shocked. Maybe they'll make it through this feeling closer than ever before.

Make Thyme for what you Love - suggested by @darthbloodorange

@rebelmeg - pepperony, gardening, fluff

@tehroserose - (Steve and Tony friendship fic)- Steve had grown up with the song. A version of the song at least. His mother said it was the only thing the English had given worth a damn. When he heard Scarborough Fair by Simon and Garfunkel, he cried. Tony watched the tough soldier break down. And right then, he knew he was going to make the time to do something he had promised himself he would do. He was going to find a picture of Sarah Rogers.

@psychiccatpanda - (pre-Stuckony) - When he'd told Pepper why he had hired BarRo Gardening and Landscape Service to care for the plants in the Tower, she'd laughed so hard she'd almost fallen out of her desk chair. 'BarRo Gardening and Landscape Service: Lettuce take care of your plants!  Our prices and services can't be beet!  We also offer sage advice on selecting the best plants for any office environment.' "They offer sage advice, Pep!  How am I supposed to resist that?"

@somesortofitalianroast - Bruce wants to start a garden and put beehives on the top of Stark Tower. Tony reluctantly agrees. Bucky thinks it would be a good idea if he helps. The garden starts out small, mostly herbs and a few easier to care for plants, and grows as Bucky grows more confident in his gardening skills.

@huntress79 - (Stuckony modern AU) At first, Tony hadn't understood why both Steve and Bucky handed him a pot with what turned out to be a thyme plant right before shipping out to their last tour. Sure, it had a nice smell, and wasn't that hard to look after (JARVIS turned out to be as diligent as an auxiliary gardener as in everything else). But then, the plants become so much more - for Tony, it's a promise from "his" soldiers to come back to him. For Steve and Bucky, it's proof that Tony takes care of it - and of himself, despite their absence.

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Steve was sceptical when Bruce approached him with the idea of 'Therapeutic Gardening', but he trusted the man and went along with it. He admits it was nice to put aside some time for something that wasn't reports, training, team-building, or learning this new world. Something that wasn't work, something that didn't feel like this uphill battle that he had to fight alone. Unlike everything else in his schedule, he didn't have to work himself up to taking care of his plants. It became a thing after missions, for Steve to sit by his plants and water them, to confide in them. He slowly grows his collection over the months. But he starts to notice new plants in his collection, ones he didn't get himself, but he tends to them anyway. ~ Tony has been trying to look after the plants Bruce gave him, really. But will all the work on his plate he often forgets. But he tries. He notices some of his plants going missing. Plants that he was sure weren't dead the last time he checked on them, which might not be saying much... But he's sure someone has been stealing his plants. And he's going to find out who. ~ Bruce loves gardening, there were so many benefits it offered. It became a personal mission of his to get as many people into gardening as he could. However, he understands that maybe gardening wasn't everyone's thing. Bruce understands when Tony can't keep up with the maintenance of his plants. But he wasn't going to sit around and watch them suffer. So he gathers up those of Tony's plants that need a little more love and slips them into Steve's collection. ------------- (Tags: Accidental Matchmaking, Idiots in Love, Gardening, Team as Family)  

Speak of the Devil - suggested by @psychiccatpanda

@somesortofitalianroast - Lucifer crossover : Tony had heard the expression so many times, in multiple languages. “Speak of Devil and he shall appear.” He just never expected it to literally happen.

@rebelmeg - tags: hades and persephone au, greek mythology, merchant of death, unlikely lovers (i'm imagining it pepperony, but it could go a lot of ways)

@tehroserose - Tony was going to kill... well, when he figured out who had left that magical artifact behind, he was going to kill them. Because apparently, and why hadn't Thor been there earlier to tell them this?, the first dead person mentioned in front of the artifact came back. Temporarily, but who knew for how long? And guess what? Steve had mentioned Howard. Actually, Tony wanted to kill Steve for that, except he'd never breathed a word near Steve of what Howard was really like. He hadn't wanted to ruin Howard in Steve's eyes, for Steve's sake. Now Howard was going to ruin himself in those eyes. Tony braced himself as the mean, belittling words that he'd thought he wouldn't have to hear in that voice again came thundering into his ears.

@psychiccatpanda - Tony believed in science not all the hocus pocus the sorority sisters had been whispering about in not-so-hushed tones in the library while he and Rhodey had been trying to study. "I heard if you look in a mirror and say his name three times, he'll appear to kill your worst enemy." Pft - ridiculous.  He'd prove there wasn't anything to that stupid urban legend.

@darthbloodorange - [Pre-Stuckony] - Steve and Tony never talked about Howard. Ever. It was probably one of few things that keep their tenuous friendship moving along smoothly. but then Bucky came into the picture... and seemed to have a lot to say about Howard. Things started to click together, suddenly he was seeing the full picture. Howard always was an ass. Steve wasn't choosing not to talk about him out of respect for Tony, he didn't talk about Howard because the man was unpleasant to talk about. Tony listened, totally enthralled and vindicated, as Bucky regaled him with tailed of his father. About all the times Howard discredited Steve's intelligence in front of high-ranking Military figureheads, pressured him into testing, belittled Steve for his time in the USO, and ignored Bucky existence as he was just "Steve's tiresome tag-along pup" Turns out the three of them had a lot more in common than he'd initially thought. ------------- (Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Give Everyone A Damn Hug, Still Salty at Howard in that CA:FA Deleted Scene)

[lovelyirony]

Lyric prompt! "With no-one wearing their real face It's a whiteout of emotion And I've only got my brittle bones to break the fall"

Tony Stark was in the nearly-brand-new luxury car that his father Howard was driving. His mother had put in a tape of Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker and Tony was nowhere to be found. 

They think he died in the woods due to a substantial amount of blood found soaked into snow, and the fact that it was on a twisty road with no help coming until the following day, and the temperature was well and truly freezing.

It was snowing. Snow covered tracks. 

They technically never found Tony Stark. He was the cause of multiple conspiracy theories, such as: 

1.) He had died earlier and the Starks had been replacing him until it was impossible to. His double’s name was Arno, which was a name that was very unfortunate and also quite ugly.  

2.) Tony Stark, unable to deal with the pressures of his life, had run away and was currently running a coffee shop in Portland. This was substantiated with a picture of a barista with remarkable similarities, and the article got substantial clout on the internet until the barista, named Robert, had said “please take this down all I’m doing is loving my wife and making coffee I can’t handle much more than that.” 

3.) Tony Stark had run away from his life and the strained relationship with his parents (complete with picture analysis), and wanted to live his life in peace and quiet by himself and maybe have a regular existence while also lying low in the shadows and taking care of corporate criminals. 

The last one didn’t gain much traction. But it was the only one that was correct. 

(The last theory is credited to WARMACHINEROX, all caps and no spaces.) 

Tony Stark became Tony Jarvis, and while people say he looks similar to the late Howard Stark, he laughs it off and says that he was raised in upstate New York with cozy sweaters and a loving aunt and uncle who made the best damn hot chocolate in the state. 

People do not question this because outside of New York City, there really is nothing to learn about unless you’re into that sort of thing. And most people who ask are not. 

Tony Jarvis owns his own coffee shop that also doubles as a record/bookshop, because he is nothing if not resourceful. He always seems to have just the record you were looking for, or the right book to gift to a friend in times of trouble. (Whether or not you have known about it.) 

Kids walk down every Friday to treat themselves to a cookie and a book, sitting quietly and smiling as Tony asks them about class and helps out with math homework. He wears nice cardigans and talks to their parents when they’ve arrived. He likes dogs. And he wears scarves when it gets really cold. 

Of course Tony also tracks down corporate criminals and tends to make a right mess of things in a roundabout way, but he will take the occasional Saturday off to go to the farmers’ market and get a fresh bouquet of flowers, fresh-baked bread, and a nice blend of coffees from the shop down the street. 

It’s fun, really. Amusing at its most dangerous. 

They call him Iron Man. Might be because he’s designed a flying suit that he flies around in and his ability to get through systems is amazing, but more amazing is the fact that no one can get through his. 

Well, the only person who could--Colonel Rhodes--says the system is too complicated and it would take years to understand. 

Rhodes goes by Rhodey and is a great friend of Tony Jarvis. He reads to the children who want it on Friday and likes coffee. He also likes beating Tony at his game and ruining his strategies online. 

But he won’t crack the codes needed, and Tony likes that. 

-

Why did Tony become someone else? The answer is simple: he didn’t trust anyone that was in his life save for Edwin and Ana, and perhaps his mother. (But his mother would never leave someone like Howard. Tony’s not sure she even could.) 

There was underground dealings. Hydra agents that were supposed to be dead landing in profitable positions. And the pesky little fact that Tony didn’t like the way that Obadiah Stane handled things and was evasive and weird and he had a strange look about him. 

This doesn’t necessarily make him a villain. 

At least, until Tony found the files that were ordering an assassination hit on his family. 

And then he faked his death. Or his disappearance. Whatever. 

Now he’s wanted by the US government and SHIELD, the former of which is not important because they have the skillset of a toddler. SHIELD is much more important as they tend to hire people who are skilled, which is unfortunate for Tony. 

They hire people like Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow and the woman who gets front row tickets to see Rihanna. She has that type of energy, which Tony knows and is scared of. 

They have Bruce Banner on retainer, the scientist who is so blisteringly smart that Tony thinks if he ever sees him in real life, he’s gonna have to wear sunglasses. 

They also have Falcon. Enough said. 

Steve Rogers isn’t so much a threat because Tony is pretty sure that he could see “look at that!” and his head would turn in that direction, allowing a clean getaway. But Rogers can have the occasional good strategy. (More than occasional.) 

And Winter Soldier. Bucky Barnes. Oh, he’s cute. And dangerous. Mostly cute though. 

-

“He’s gonna kill you,” Rhodey reminds Tony, pushing a new shipment of books onto the shelves. “He’s gonna kill you and you’re gonna let him because when you like someone you think everything about them is cute and good.” 

“If he finds me,” Tony sniffs. “Of all the bookshops in New York, you think he’s gonna walk into this one?” 

As a matter of fact, yes he is. Bucky Barnes is not really the type of guy to have his life together. He knows how to fix a sink and make the pipes work better, and so he gets a discount on his apartment’s rent. 

But he thinks that he’s all-together while conveniently forgetting that he was trained for combat and not to be a human being and it’s not all that smooth, going from being a machine to being human. 

He forgets he has to buy coffee. 

This culminates in him realizing he has no hobbies outside SHIELD and Steve recommends finding a bookshop. 

So he does. 

The man who is running it is nice. He has glasses, a kind smile, and jams his hands into his cardigan. 

(His brain whispers that he’s doing it to not give himself away. 

Bucky ignores this because regular humans do a lot of things that aren’t like his targets. 

He should not have ignored this. Or maybe he still should. Either way.) 

Tony Jarvis is Tony Jarvis. No one else knows that up until about eight years ago, Tony Jarvis did not exist. 

And he’s looking at Bucky Barnes, who has quite the record for successful targets and also has a nice smile, apparently. 

(He’s wondering when the dental work was done. Honestly, he is.) 

“I’m...new to the area,” Bucky says. “And my friend suggested that I find a bookshop and sit down to read. Any recommendations?” 

“What’s your favorite genre?” Tony asks, as if he doesn’t know that it’s science-fiction and also mysteries. (Peggy liked to talk.) 

“I like mysteries. And science-fiction,” Bucky says. 

“Well then, I have some recs for you,” Tony answers, turning. “Let me get them to you. Also, do you like chocolate chip or oatmeal for cookies? They’re complementary for first visits.” 

“You can tell when someone first visits?” Bucky asks. 

“I have a good memory, and I would’ve remembered someone like you,” Tony says. 

(he’s so glad he’s faced away. his face is firetruck red and it’s not because he’s been blasting the heat ever since the temperatures dropped) 

The shop itself is cozy. Bucky gets sucked into a book about a space criminal. He’s never read anything like it, and he loves the way it’s written. 

He buys it and tucks it under his arm as he hears a soft chime from his phone. 

Meeting about the problem. be there asap

Bucky sighs, chewing the oatmeal cookie that he was given. 

He nearly drops it from his mouth. 

“Where do you get these?” he asks Tony. “These are the best things I’ve ever tasted, and oatmeal is my favorite!” 

“I, um, I made them?” Tony says. “I can forward you the recipe next time you stop by, if you’d like.” 

“Nah, that’s okay,” Bucky says. “They’re always better when someone else makes them, in my opinion. If that’s okay.” 

“Makes sense,” Tony says. “Have a good day!” 

Bucky smiles to himself. (Tony Jarvis has a rather nice smile. It’s kind.) 

- 

Meanwhile, Tony is sagged up against the wall. Bucky Barnes is now close. He will come back because Tony cannot make himself be mean to someone like him. 

But he can’t be caught. Not yet. 

Not when he’s planning on a total take-down. 

[kurowrites]

Snow - Chapter 2

Continuation of this. AO3.

---

Wei Ying stays home the day after his abduction by a spirit of the winter. The man in white forced him to face reality the previous night when he took Wei Ying’s temperature; he really is sick. For once in his life, he does the reasonable thing and stays in bed, cancels all his appointments, and makes sure to notify anyone that might need to know about his absence. Then he crawls back to bed.

He’s bored of staying in bed within five minutes, but he also knows that if he gets up, he’s going to feel really sick again, so he stays right where he is. He tries to read, but quickly realizes that he can’t concentrate on what he’s reading for long enough to understand what he’s actually reading. In the end, he keeps switching between watching silly videos on youtube that use almost none of his brainpower and taking naps whenever he can’t keep his eyes open. He sporadically goes to the bathroom or drags himself to the kitchen to get himself a drink, but he doesn’t feel like trying to fix himself some food. The effort is too much, honestly. It’s not like he’ll die if he doesn’t eat for one day. He’s not sure how much food is still in his fridge, anyway.

He should probably take a shower at some point. He thinks he’s getting a little smelly, but he also doesn’t really care. There’s no one here to complain if he lounges around in a gross, sweaty pyjama. Not to mention that he doesn’t know how well he’d fare in the shower right now. His legs still feel shaky and unstable.

It’s late afternoon when the doorbell suddenly rings.

He wriggles out of bed, wondering who his visitor could be. It can’t really be anyone from university, since most people there don’t know where he lives. And as much as he might wish for it to be his sister, carrying a pot of delicious homemade soup, she lives too far away to suddenly appear on his doorstep simply because he’s feeling a little out of it. He carefully omitted telling Jiang Yanli that he’s sick, too.

When he opens the door, he has to blink several times to make sure he sees right. On the other side of the door stands the man in white, still wearing his long white coat, still as beautiful and flawless as yesterday. Even more so, because he’s looking directly at Wei Ying now. And he’s carrying a large bag of – yes, those are groceries. Food!

“Your fridge was almost empty,” the man explains when he notices Wei Ying’s gaze.

“You’re here to feed me?” Wei Ying asks, a little dumbfounded, because honestly, he doesn’t even know where to start here. He has lots of other questions, like What the fuck? or Who are you, actually? but food kind of cancels out the rest. He has priorities.

“Hn,” the stranger answers, and then he uses that strange magic he seems to have once more, and Wei Ying finds himself bundled back into his bed. The man in white vanishes into the kitchen without another word. After some rustling sounds, the opening and closing of cupboards, and other noises Wei Ying can’t quite determine the origin of, the man in white reappears in his bedroom with a cup of hot tea that he hands Wei Ying.

The tea smells amazing, much better than any of the stuff he has in his cupboards. The man in white must have brought it with him. He takes a sip, and yes. It’s absolutely delicious. He hums his appreciation.

The man in white stands still there, apparently assessing his current condition, so Wei Ying takes his chance.

“So,” he says conversationally, sipping on the tea. “Are you going to tell me your name sometime?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then, “Lan Zhan.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying repeats, testing out the name on his tongue. The name is unfamiliar, but–

“Wait,” he says. “Any relationship with Lan Qiren?”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan confirms. “He is my uncle.”

Wei Ying nearly chokes on his tea. This is not just a random stranger as Wei Ying had assumed, this is the nephew of the president of the university he’s attending. He’s probably a board member of the university or some such shit. Despite the international renown that his university generally enjoys, the university is somehow still led by the extremely powerful and rich family that originally founded it. Wei Ying thinks he’s justified for his reaction, because he has more money and power standing in his bedroom right now than he can ever hope to achieve in his life. He has heard the rumours about the members of the Lan clan too, and has no doubt that education can be added to the list of privileges this young man enjoys, as well.

“Well, Lan Zhan,” he says, instead of questioning why a man like Lan Zhan would even bother to notice someone like Wei Ying. “It’s just perfect, to have you here again. I wanted to thank you for bringing me home yesterday. I’m not sure if I’d managed to make it home without your help. So. Thank you, Young Master Lan.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “No thanks are necessary.”

“Then let me thank you for bringing me food and this delicious tea?”

He holds up his half-drunk cup.

Lan Zhan shakes his head again.

“Come on,” Wei Ying whines. “You’ve done so much for me, the least I can do is thank you.”

“I am making soup. You should take a shower afterwards.”

Okay, okay. Wei Ying got the message. Lan Zhan doesn’t want his thanks.

Why he’s compelled to do all this is still a mystery to Wei Ying, though. He’s getting absolutely nothing out of it. He’s been coughed on, had to carry Wei Ying around, has to tolerate his bad smell, and is now making him food. And he does all of it looking perfectly uncaring, as if such mundane things can’t touch him. Looking at the pristine white knit jumper and slacks he’s wearing, they can’t.

Lan Zhan vanishes back into the kitchen and returns a few minutes later with a steaming bowl of soup that smells delicious. Wei Ying eagerly takes a sip as soon as Lan Zhan places the tray with the soup onto his lap. (The tray is definitely new too. He has never owned a tray before.) The soup is not as spicy as his family’s would be, but it’s delicious regardless, so he quickly eats it, his belly filling with warmth, the food finally quieting the growling noises of hunger he’s been steadfastly ignoring.

Lan Zhan takes the tray from him once he’s done and brings it back to the kitchen. Then he reminds Wei Ying that he should take a shower.

“I feel wobbly,” Wei Ying complains. “I might slip and bang my head and then I’ll be dead.”

“I’m here,” Lan Zhan replies without changing his expression at all. “I will help if needed.”

The image of Lan Zhan gently wiping him down with a soft terrycloth flashes through Wei Ying’s mind and he thinks he’s choking again. The image is more appealing than he really dares to admit.

“Fine,” he says weakly, wriggling out from beneath his blanket. “But If I end up in hospital with a broken skull, I’m blaming you.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t dignify that with a reply.

Wei Ying heads into the bathroom, strips his pyjama off, and finally takes that shower that he really needed a few hours ago. He still feels wobbly, but the hot water actually makes him feel better, so he just stands under the spray for a while, enjoying the sensation of the hot water on his skin. When a sudden spray of cold water hits him, a warning that the hot water is about to run out, he turns the shower off and quickly towels off.

That’s when he realizes his mistake. He came into the bathroom only with his pyjamas on, and honestly, they’re kind of too gross to slip into again. It would render the entire effort of showering moot. He’s just contemplating slipping into his bedroom as quickly and quietly as possible with only the towel wrapped around himself, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Are you finished?” comes Lan Zhan’s voice through the door. “I have brought you a change of clothes.”

Well. That’s thoughtful, Wei Ying has to admit. He wraps his towel around himself as well as he can and carefully opens the bathroom door. The bundle of clothes that Lan Zhan presents him with clearly isn’t his own clothing though. The bundle consists of black silk satin pyjamas and a black and red dressing gown; a dressing down that’s just so luxurious and so goddamn superfluous he can’t believe things like this still exist. He thinks the collar of the gown is lightly padded.

He looks at Lan Zhan with confusion, but Lan Zhan just presses the bundle of clothing into his arms and vanishes down the hallway.

Wei Ying shrugs to himself and closes the door of the bathroom again. As he takes the bundle apart, a pair of black boxer briefs slips out. Those are also definitely not Wei Ying’s, because they’re brand name and they look new. He slips into them, and then the pyjamas, and it all fits very nicely. He eyes the dressing gown with suspicion for a minute, but then decides he might as well. He slips into it too, fixing the tie, looking at himself in the tiny, fogged up bathroom mirror. He definitely looks nice, and the colours suit him. Lan Zhan knows the aesthetic that Wei Ying is going for, apparently.

He brushes out his hair until he’s mostly content with the image he sees in the mirror, and then leaves the bathroom in search of Lan Zhan. He finds him in Wei Ying’s bedroom, in the process of replacing the bedding. The new bedding isn’t Wei Ying’s, either, and it definitely looks new. How much stuff did Lan Zhan bring with him? Food, clothing, and even bedding?

He watches as Lan Zhan finishes changing everything. He looks as if he knows what he’s doing. Not a useless young master, then, too privileged to learn some basic skills, Wei Ying decides.

Lan Zhan straightens up and looks at Wei Ying expectantly.

“You should lie down again.”

Wei Ying wants to thank him again for everything he’s doing for Wei Ying, all of it unprompted, but he knows by now that Lan Zhan won’t accept his thanks. So he steps forward, instead, until he’s close enough to sink his hands into Lan Zhan’s white knit jumper that’s exactly as soft as it looks, and waits for a moment. When Lan Zhan doesn’t move, doesn’t shove him away, he leans up and softly kisses the corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth. Lan Zhan doesn’t react, doesn’t even blink, but as Wei Ying is drawing back, he can see a pretty red blush spread over the tips of Lan Zhan’s ears.

I have your number now, Lan Zhan, he thinks, satisfied. He feels like the cat that got the cream.

He obediently crawls into his bed, slipping under his blanket. The new bedding is as soft as a cloud, and Wei Ying can’t help but wriggle a little in delight. Oh, this feels good. The comforts of money, indeed.

“Sleep,” Lan Zhan commands, and leaves the bedroom to give him some rest.

Wei Ying obeys.

[sirsparklepants]

So I made this post earlier and @kerasines suggested a Harringrove AU which, honestly, perfect. So! Harringrove zombie apocalypse/vaguely Walking Dead inspired because I read one trade of the comic back in 2007 AU: Steve is a small town cop leading an army of survivors, mostly the kids but also Tommy, Carol, and Heather, to safety, which means away from population centers and directly to the rural areas between Georgia and South Carolina. Billy was a former military brat with an abusive dad who ran away when his dad was stationed at Ft Benning and learned how to survive in the woods because rednecks and metalheads have a lot in common (they’re often the same people, actually, ask me how many times Metallica or AC/DC or Black Sabbath is played at the redneck bar I go to). He runs into their group because one of the kids quite literally trips over one of his hunting traps and surprise surprise it's his stepsister he hasn't seen in three years! Apparently after Benning Neil got sent to Jackson but Susan and Max left him and moved to the outskirts of Atlanta where Max half expected to see him because of the vibrant thriving queer community. (Atlanta is like the black queer capital of the US and has had pride parades since the year after Stonewall!) Anyway Billy can't let Max starve and Steve is clearly trying his best to feed them all and keep them safe but he and Carol were the only ones who were really comfortable with guns before the zombies came and Tommy is the only one with half an outdoors skill. Plus the apocalypse has nuked Billy's dating options and Steve is the prettiest prospect for miles. Steve, for his part, will put up with the way Billy gets under his skin and the way he just can't stop watching him for the prospect of another adult keeping the kids safe.

They don't have enough people to stop somewhere permanently and set up a base so their only hope is to find an established community to take them in. They hear rumors of a community in Indiana and Will wants them to go, because that's where his mom took Jonathan for a college visit with his step-dad Hopper, and Steve was actually babysitting him and El when the news broke about the zombies, so of course he had to check on their friends for them and that's how he ended up with all the kids. So they're headed to Indiana but it's going to take them weeks, so they have to go now if they want to make it before winter. Billy says they have to skirt the mountains and Steve agrees because if the road is choked and there's hordes of undead, there's no escape. So they're going up the east coast until they're around the worst of the Appalachians. But that means they have to cross the river. The river with alligators.

Anyway that's when Billy gets to wrestle, kill, and eat a gator and I'm not gonna lie to y'all that's mostly the point of this. Also, true to the source's fanservice, he always wears a leather jacket with no shirt, because leather makes decent armor. If shit gets real he zips his jacket up. That's how Steve knows if a situation they're in is Fucked or not.

[onebadwinter]

Name: James Buchanan Barnes

Meaning of Name:  James: It means "supplanter," one who follows., Buchanan: The place name is thought to derive from the Gaelic elements buth, meaning "house" and chanain, meaning "of the canon.",  Barnes: Warrior,  Nickname(s):  Bucky, Winter Soldier, Captain America, The Man On The Wall, Bucky Barnes, Buck, Sarge, Prisoner #56898,, Солдат, The Asset, The New Fist of HYDRA, Fallen Comrade, The Shooter, Ghost, Manchurian Candidate, Semi-Stable 100-Year-Old Man, Canary, Sidekick, W.S., Jim Barnes,

Age: Unknown, a few years younger than Steve Rogers, originally. But willing to make fit Steve’s age, properly if requested and I’m willing.

Birthday/Place: Unknown, March 10th or 20th, 1910-30s. Shelbyville, Indiana.

Species/Nationality:  Human/Super Soldier, American, Ice Elf on his mothers side,  American, Badoon,  German, The Chosen, Canadian, Scandinavian

Accent: American

Language spoken: English, Spanish, Hindi, Portuguese,Galician, German, Russian, Ancient Greek, Latin, Thai, Japanese, Old Norse, Aramaic,

Powers/Abilities:  Super Human Strength, Enhanced Reaction Time, Sensory Array, Extended Reach, EMP Discharge, Expert Spy, Electrical Discharge, Bionic Arm, Master Martial Artist, Expert Marksmen, Expert Assassin, Skilled Shield Fighter, Acrobatic, Advanced Scouting, Peak Human Condition, Enhanced Durability, Enhanced Reflexes, Enhanced Endurance, Enhanced Stamina, Regenerative Healing, Cybernetic Enhanced Physiology,

Pet: Mole (Orla)

Illness/Allergies:  Not prior to, or after, being genetically altered. PTSD, Brain Damage. Apathy.

Occupation:  Solder/Assassin/ Experiment

Faceclaim: Sebastian Stan

Description: Looks just like Sebastian Stan in his twenties. Has blue grey eyes, light to dark brown hair,  has a metallic robotic arm. Scars litter his body from injuries sustained during the plane explosion that had originally killed him, plus wounds that followed from his time as a Winter Solder, and a wound between his shoulders from his time as Captain America, as well as several others.

Outfit/Accessories/Jewelry: Tactical outfit, casual clothing, half face mask, goggles, Bionic arm, guns.

Height: 5′9″

Weight: 234 (Counting Cybernetic arm)

Body Build: Athletic

Backstory/Background:

James was born James Buchanan Barnes in Shelbyville, Indiana in the early to late 1920s. Where he was raised on Army bases by his mother Winifred and his father George. He was born the eldest of four children. For most of the beginning of his life he and his family moved from base to base, as most army family's tended to do. Along these moves James had grown up being an Army brat, picking up on and getting actively involved in the army, even for such a young child. The happiness of course, as in most cases, didn't appear to last for too long. As in his young age his mother had died tragically early in his life.  Leaving the young James to help in raising his younger siblings while his father had continued to work in the army.

This had affected James' early maternal emotions in wanting to protect others. James had learned these skills while taking care of his younger siblings through the years. As well as picking up how to fight in a skillful manner. To the point that he became a sort of mascot to the base his father seemed to come to settle on. On this base it is here that James comes to meet a boy only a few years older than himself, Steve Rodgers. Here they begin to form a close friendship. James coming to learn all about Steve's home life, and eventual becoming an orphan, as well as Steve's weakened sickly life style. This is until they are both eventually separated  off and on until James is older.

This too, also did not last very long, either. When tragic news had come to the teenaged James that their father had died in an accident while away training on another base in a base in Virginia where they had finally moved to. After this event, James, old enough to not be sent to an orphanage has his siblings taken away from him, where they are sent away and eventually taken in by other families. James chooses to remain on the base and indulge in his enjoyment of the man who everyone called Captain America. Which James had been a huge fan of for the last several years since Captain America had started to appear on magazines and on bases. 

During these days he tended to get into some trouble but showed he had the potential of being great, one day, if he had worked hard enough and remained focused on joining the army as more than just a mascot. At some point however, while Captain America had been visiting a base, James took the chance to actually meet his 'hero', and when offered a training position on a S.A.S Unit, he took it. Leading him taking fighting lessons from the very same people who also trained the Sentinel of Liberty.

During this training James was considered to be a perfect match in partnering up with Captain America. This all in mostly an attempt to capture the attention of America's you, so they would invest in the building war against the Axis. But it also was to the dirty work. While fighting against the axis. James and Captain America, who James had accidentally stumbled upon one evening when walking in on Steve getting dressed, found out that Steve, his friend from many years ago had gone on to become Captain America, his hero. Which was a bit weird, he had to admit in some part. But eventually he got over it, because it was also so cool. 

The two eventually ended up fighting the Nazi's, and doing other heroic things in attempts to protect America and strike down evil. All that *Yawn* hero stuff, you want to know more about, read a Steve Bio. Anyway, eventually while trying to take down Baron Zemo who was trying to destroy and experimental Drone Plane, James had tried to stop the explosion and ended up getting blown the fuck up, as you do. With Steve being tossed into a frozen lake and freezing. James had apparently died. Or well, he literally died.

For quite a few years that followed James' death, he had remained frozen in the icy waters that his body landed in after Baron Zemo had blown the plane up. All but his right arm had frozen over in the icy coffin, as it had somehow become severed before the soldier landed in the waters. Upon being discovered by Hydra, James was soon revived but had suffered from severe brain damage and amnesia following his revival. This of course had lead to James no knowing who he was for many years to follow. During his time with Hydra they had used him to assassinate other political or enemies in general of their interest.

That was until one mission led to James kidnapping Sharon Carter,  many years after James' death and revival. Afterward the young woman brought it up to Steve and several others, which prompted Steve to look into it himself and finding out that it was indeed his former best friend. Which would lead to Steve trying to protect and save James, and several attempts to try and bring the other man back to his senses, or as the case was, remember who he was before all of these tragic events happened to him.  However, in Steve's attempt to reclaim his friend he had managed to do a bit more damage. Which results in the Cosmic Cube that James had on hand, being shattered.

In the years to follow James had tried in mostly success, at being the hero he had always dreamed himself of being in his childhood. At first he had to do this from within the shadows as the people had still not trusted him. Nick Fury had given him his missions and the chance to redeem himself, however. But these circumstances did not last long when it appeared that Steve had been assassinated, one day while going to trial for having instigated the Civil War over some accords, against the US Government and such else in the like. James had witnessed Steve's assassination and quickly, with the help of others he had befriend that were also Steve's friends, taken revenge on the person responsible, Crossbones, and Sharon?

However, it came to be found that Steve was not necessarily dead, just stuck in a time loop and Sharon was being manipulated and then framed for the assassination on Steve. Whose body had been taken over by Red Skull. James at this time was portraying himself as Captain America and was sent to fight off the Possessed Steve, who had by then started a Hydra Empire in the United States. During this fight James had sustained quite a lot of damage in order to give Steve enough time to fight of Red Skull. After this James decided to then go after sleeper agents for a while until Natasha got her own memories wiped by the last remaining of them, which ended fairly well for James in the end, not so much Natasha herself.

James continues on about whatever doing his Winter Soldier thing, going to prison, breaking himself out, with the help of Natasha, before she got he brain wiped of all memories of him that is. Things are good? Well as good as they can be for a short while. That would be until Kobiks arrived on the scene and started doing whatever it is she enjoys doing. She's made out of the shards of Cosmic Cube, by the way. Steve, who keeps retiring, not retiring and now is the director of S.H.I.E.L.D  since Nick killed a Watcher and James confronted him before Nick eventually peaces the fuck out to REPLACE the Watcher he killed, and left James to take Nick's place as "The Man on the Wall". Anyway. So Kobiks revitalized Steve, making him YOUNG, again, because Steve keeps getting older and James is has Infinity Formula in his vains from having died prior, again.

Moving on, James and Steve and everyone of their besties fight Kobiks new band mates who I guess then becomes protectors of Earth.  But who cares about that.  What's important to note here is that Helmut Zemo, son of Baron Zemo, he's mad, okay. He tries to kill James with the same plan his father tried to do before, intentionally this time, blow up a fucking plane. This family is absolutely, #Original.  However, the plan fails, much worse this time, for Helmut because James manages to escape with his life from the explosion and takes out Zemo for daring to even try to front him.  With having survived all of the attempts on his life, and mortal wounding up until now, and being abel to stab God Steve with a shard of the Cosmic Cube, since God Steve is all " Let me be a fucking asshole."

Afterward, all is returned to peace and Steve is back to not being a fucking asshole again, as well, they save Kobics by once again reforming the Cosmic Cube. But wait, there's more. James and Hawkeye soon team up to go on wild and crazy adventures together. Also, Thanos comes along and dusts most of everyone and Steve brings them all back, with the help of whatever Heros managed to not get dusted. It's a happy ending for all involved, except for Thanos,...and ...his army. But who cares about anyone of them? I am sure they'll be back, right?!  James now lives a moderately 'peaceful life', continuing his teamwork along side Hawkeye and occasionally teaming up with other heroes on the fly every so often, as he would see fit. ....But I don't know, how would you guys feel about this being an evil run? Hehehe.

Quirks/Savvies/Other: 

Knows a lot about Weapons.

Is good in a fight, just using a hunting knife.

Likes Heroics and Idolized Captain America in his youth.

Probably pretty good at engineering and science, but had never been trained in it. He is a Fixer, however.

Acts stupid, but is actually very intelligent.

Believes in mythology.

Interested in conspiracies.

Tinkers with things when he’s nervous.

Believes in magic.

Becomes tired when it’s too hot.

When he’s bored he will rearrange things.

Sings to himself.

He believes in dragons.

Is annoyed by Stuttering.

Interested in fairies.

Bothered by not knowing things.

Swears at every opportunity.

Extremely flexible.

Names and talks to his his personal weapons.

Gets uncomfortable in places with no windows.

Dark sense of humor.

Personality:

Charming, Honest, Ruthless, Punctual, Brave, Loyal, Elegant, Brutal, Forgetful, Resilient,Driving,  Headstrong, Dangerous, Rustic, Elusive, Unfathomable, Objective, Aggressive, Distant, Sadistic, Ashamed, Just,  Earthy, Honorable, Erratic, Self-Contained, Depressive, Tainted, Unlucky, Sarcastic,  Moralistic, Tense, Light Hearted, Casual,

Likes:  Taking care of his family, Adventure, Tigers, Gothic Literature, Botany, Mathematics, Cats, Science, Technology, Philosophy, Weapons, Peace and Quiet, Taking care of the people he loves, Protecting Others, Captain America,

Dislikes: Goldfish, Hydra, Centaurs, Winter, Jack o'Lanterns, Vampire Hunters, Shoes, Television Comedies, Politics, Performance Arts, The Guilt of what he’s done, Steve getting them into trouble,

Fears:  Deep Water, Windowless Rooms, Being Trapped, explosions, Extreme Heat, Strange Noises or any noises at all in the middle of the night, Being held Captive.

Personality Tests:  ESTP/INTJ-T, Type 8 The Challenger, Type 7 The Enthusiast, Type 5 The Investigator, 8w7,

Other: Pisces, Tropes,

Spouses:  N/A

Children:  One or more.

Significant Other: N/A

Parent(s):

-> Father: George M. Barnes

-> Mother: Winifred C. Barnes 

Sibling(s):  Rebecca P Barnes, Evelyn Harlee Barnes, Harrison Douglas Barnes

Starters

Chat’s

Para’s

Face

Stuff

Information

Asks

All

                                                                             Alternate Universes

[pigeonfancier]

General life updates:

- Apple trees are now getting mint placed in all of their pots! I managed to cause massive die-off on the poor fucks by overwatering them, because my attempts to ensure no excess water storage at the bottom of the pots has largely failed, and while the surface is getting dry, they’re permanently retaining a fuckton of water in the lower sections. So I’m giving each of them a different type of mint, and I’m forcibly encouraging them to grow and overtake the entire pot.

They’ll put down feelers down to the bottom and start soaking up the excess water, and they’ll also serve to keep fucking bugs away from my shit. Success! \o/ I trimmed everyone of all their dead components, and they’ve been taking off like wildfire, so hopefully the mint will also thrive and produce a useful, symbiotic relationship between them.

- Making a work bench! It’ll be fun. Everything’s measured and cut, it just needs to be put together, and I’m pleased to get stuff out of lying in useless piles in my garage, and actually put them to use. I keep trying to eye up additional ways that I can learn to be more self-sufficient, and I’m tempted to start investigating into the possibility of setting up solar panels and a generator, or possibly just setting up a small wind turbine in the back? We’re right at the tip of Tornado Valley, we get so much damn wind 24/7.

- I want to set up new bird feeders, but HYM’s candy ass ate one of my doves last year, and I remain a little distraught at the idea of him doing so again. :/

- I’m very pleased over pretty much everything lately, save for the goddamn pandemic. I’ve been alternating day-to-day between being in a half-doze from fucking allergy meds and being hyper-productive, and ngl, I can’t bring myself to mind the off days very much, all things considered, haha. It’s very nice to be in a situation of.. pleased infatuation with a couple of different things, and it’s so fucking nice to be in a state of constant creation right now. Winter always makes me so tired, and I was sick for most of last year: it’s soothing to be feeling peppier, and to have actual work to show off for it.

I’m also just very pleased that my skill has increased substantially in the last month or so? It is one thing to acknowledge, yes, progress comes in spurts: you will see the flaws in your work long before you learn how to correct them, and the ability to spot flaws at all is a sign you are learning! But it’s also something to actually finally be able to see that massive leap forward, in one clear shot, and to have the satisfying indulgence of being able to say: oh! I am good at this!

I always think I’m fairly spectacular at everything that I do: it is a tragic fact that my greatest flaw and my greatest trait is my constant love affair with myself. But it’s one thing to think it, and another thing to be able to establish it with little effort, lmfao.

- Allergies have picked up massively with regards to everything, which is apparently part of a general physical stress reaction that can happen with allergies. It’ll clear up as I chill out, I’m sure, but still going to start getting shots to help with it, and in the meanwhile.. I’m making myself go out more and deal with my allergens directly, because the less I encounter my mild (but aggravating) nemesises, the more my body wants to freak out when I do. :’) Bodies are useless! What magnificent creations we are.

- Weird podcast feels are weird. I only enjoy a few bits of media, on average, because I’m a picky asshole, and I’ve started occasionally chattering to some of the people that make media I enjoy, which I am very chuffed by! I don’t think I have quite the hero-worship admiration that a lot of people get about content creators, because I’m ultimately an asshole? So it’s mostly just pleased flattery of: oh! This person enjoys my work, too! :)

Which makes it also a bit awkward in that.. one of my podcasts hit a point where the players make an off-hand joke about tossing around a zombie child’s head. The zombie child is black. This is the only black character in the podcast, and the cast is 99% white, with no black people. It’s very clearly a one-off comment that is not continued and no one clicks on it being even potentially distressing, but the problem with talking to creators, I think, is that you get that niggling discomfort of.. oh, should I ask them about this..?

It’s very clearly one of those thoughtless jokes that people do not realise the connotations of, haha, so I’m not going to. But I do regret talking to content creators a touch, because things I’d wave off as a momentary, uncharacteristic gaffe and either continue watching or not are now things that present options and the opportunity to ask for explanations and naaah. The temptation is there, but also, I don’t have any particular urge to have a conversation that would be, because.. everyone makes shitty comments on occasion, especially when you are recording media live. It’s Not That Deep(tm).

But my brain’s like: what if it was that deep?!

Brains are not helpful sometimes, ngl.

[lessofthelego]

MURKY OF MIRKWOOD

[Part One: Dwarvish Iron]

The whiff of carbon-etheral coloured the atmosphere, a by-product of the lurid gas fittings along the walnut stairway descending to a similarly clad and lit cellar; the low panelled ceiling and lack of ventilation offered no relief to the unnatural closeness of this room, for so it was for such a one who had sat there seemingly overlong. The four that came with him seemed perfectly adapted to this space and gossiped idly with another behind a clerk’s hatch, they knew it was safe to do so for he was secure; the walking-irons about his wrists and ankles rubbed sorely through overuse, his bruised and cut head throbbed and, to compound the misery, the split below his shin had reopened. “Alright there, Murky?” scoffed the intendant, the newest gang member having learned a fresh quarry’s nickname. Murky remained unruffled and offered no reply; having some twenty minutes ago given his true name to the Panel of Eight upstairs; otherwise known as ‘The Mete,’ also ‘The Dispensation,’ or just ‘Heads!’ Now, it has been long established in the Iron Hills that upon the absence of their lord the heads of leading dwarf families govern in a dispensation commonly known as the Mete; this ensures the smooth running of administration and the continuance of law. Most citizens tend to grumble under these conditions preferring to abide under one authority, albeit that nothing much changes for them. These so-called Heads seldom involve themselves in the tedious fundamentals of running daily business, predominantly leaving such matters to their ambitious nephews and such.  Notwithstanding it is more than apparent among the rank and file that in the absence of Lord Dáin (now King) they are motivated to do more whilst others do less. However, on this day it has not gone unnoticed by anybody that the incarceration of a Woodland-elf’ has certainly, ‘Turned a few Heads!’

Thus they named their captive “Murky of Mirkwood!”, choosing not to believe his account which, as incredulous as it sounded, was true (it is curious that the truth often seems like folly to those who decide not to hear it:) and so the officiators ordered him to be cleaned up and “Arrayed as one befitting his station!” ere he should face them once more. Therefore Murky waited patiently to be processed and looking down upon his fettered limbs he began to review that day’s events: suddenly with remembrance of pain!

Having wakened for the second time this day, he knew straightway that he’d been blindfolded and collared whilst his incapable arms burned and tore behind him. His manacled hands scrambled awkwardly crosswise between compacted shoulder blades; hands winched up against his lissome spine by a chain that looped through the collar and fed into a small square aperture behind. His ankles being set apart and similarly attached within the stony perimeter. A clattering of linked iron proclaimed his sudden stirring and the entirety of this full-grown elf retorted grudgingly in taut sporadic jolts; indeed it had taken some time to discern how he’d come to be so restrained or indeed where he was. Thus, firmly held in place upon an instant he wondered why; verily the fetid air revealed this mystery, the profound stench and onerous tang of smote iron: Dwarvish Iron!  

“YOU ARE NOT SUFFERED TO PASS THROUGH THESE LANDS!”

The jarring recollection of that resolute voice announced a fresh throbbing on the left side of Murky’s forehead, coupled with thumping at the back of his skull. He touched the still tender spot and his eyes rolled halfway back into his head as his memory began to reset itself: “Two nights ago,” he guessed, “This must be the third day… yes two, surely… and yet I cannot be sure…”

His mind sloshed in uncertainty: “Nay, not even Finrod could have withstood such prolonged hold-fast a full day!” but confirmation came by the remembrance of a trickle from the gash above the eyebrow; whence the leather previously obscuring his vision had absorbed fresh blood which being saturated seeped forth unto the corner of his mouth.

“YOU ARE NOT SUFFERED TO PASS THROUGH THESE LANDS!”

Indeed two nights had passed since his setting out, for the going had been slow and wary in an ineffectual effort to skirt the Iron Hills. Nevertheless there had been call for guardedness, excepting for this: any whosoever in Middle-earth with all reasonable sense might suppose that a skilled elf such as he should pass quickly and undetected through hostile lands at need. What then shall be said? He had dwelt overlong on recent events, this captain of the royal household, scratching about in the wasteland of a rival people: was he a captive before he was a prisoner? Yes, all of it and more: for in truth the Iron Hills had kept Murky in thraldom, a part of him (indeed the very heart of him) had to know what it was about these people and his own kind; alas, he was finding out. And even now, he could not reconcile it: “She loved him, how could she have loved HIM?”   

“YOU ARE NOT SUFFERED TO PASS THROUGH THESE LANDS!”

“What a terrible waste it was, the Battle of the Five Armies!” thought Murky of Mirkwood , “Many fine warriors fell in the service of the king, and each one, to the last elf, gladly fulfilled it!” Every elven fighter learns early on what joy lies beyond their last encounter, but how does one respond when faced with such carnage? How does one simply look away and not remember fallen friends? These and other grave questions weighed upon Murky as he sat and waited. A single tear burnt his cheek and dropping it plinked almost inaudibly upon the shackle encircling his right wrist; (now, it should be known that open sentiment demands much of elves, albeit that these people comprehend and cherish the intricacies of life far deeper than most other living creatures;) but the dwarves didn’t even notice him, chattering still amongst themselves.

“What then of family honour, of valour, of friends and newfound allies, and why such profound ferocity in opposition?” he wondered, “And for what cause, heirlooms and riches?” And even more, ever quickening reflections of two others encompassed his thinking; even three, counting the faded drawing of his long departed mother preserved somewhere in his chamber at home. Home, the very place from which he fled; for what was there to keep him, love? Legolas Greenleaf thought not!  

“YOU ARE NOT SUFFERED TO PASS THROUGH THESE LANDS!”  

“Go north, find the Dúnedain…” his father, King Thranduil, had said at their last parting. It happened that these instructions were somewhat vague given that the Dúnedain patrol the reaches of Eriador, west of where he was. In order to have gone that way Legolas must negotiate whenceforth he had not long since returned: the uppermost range of the Misty Mountains, Gundabad and the Mountains of Angmar. He had no desire to go back thither, not least by which time he should have arrived at that accursed place it would surely abound with orcs fled from the battle. In addition recent hearsay abroad stated that an old evil, long thought dead and buried, had arisen once again out of the bowels of that region.

“YOU ARE NOT SUFFERED TO PASS THROUGH THESE LANDS!”

Strident winds blustered into the upper reaches of Wilderland on the day of his departure. Winter was not full set upon Middle-earth but many peoples in the regions of the North, already feeling its premature bite, had hunkered down for a lengthy season of cold weather. Swirled jets of freezing air hissed down from the Northern Waste of the Forodwaith and not even the resilient shoulders of the Grey Mountains could withstand the incursion. These peaks (also called Ered Mithrin) were rather less compacted than their taller mist-covered sisters that reached away south; these too also offered scantier and less protection as the lands to the east became ever barer, particularly in the barren gap known locally as Dragons Teeth. Maybe it was in this land that the dwarves first spotted him; a lone rider, barely a raw cloud of dust, whose going was betrayed by a disturbed trail. For indeed it was he which moved swiftly northward across that gritty fallowness; the austere grey range rising in front of him and the Lonely Mountain standing behind. And southward on that same day smoke and reek blotted out an otherwise cloudless sky, for Erebor was besieged; and directly ahead now only the Withered Heath beckoned.  

“YOU ARE NOT SUFFERED TO PASS THROUGH THESE LANDS!”  

Legolas remembered his horse’s valiant part in these last few days; for in sensing his departure from the Woodland Realm, the mare followed her master into self imposed exile, meeting him unlooked-for approximate to the ‘Long Bridge’ at Lake-town. The prince remembered too with remorse, how she panted heavily under her labour during the latter northward sprint: particularly since he’d all but mentally given up on this course of action. Mostly though he remembered rearing to a halt in full sight of the highest and most jagged section of the Ered Mithrin, which came into clear focus, escarpment, bowl and crag; and he remembered shivering at the very sight of those mountains. In order to negotiate the tricky foothills at this trickier time of year it would have taken a full day riding out from Erebor at first light; and ever the deeper within him it made no sense to go forward: “Which way now?” said he.

“YOU ARE NOT SUFFERED TO PASS THROUGH THESE LANDS!”  

Thus discerning that the hour would soon darken he had set up camp beside some nearby boulders; and ere night full came the elf distinguished movement in the east, for under the evening shadow a large convoy of dwarves moved out from the Iron Hills heading towards the Lonely Mountain. Now it has been told elsewhere, how a great army from that inexorable range had joined in the Battle of the Five Armies: and amongst these was the new King under the Mountain, one Dain Ironfoot. Legolas had heard already of Dain’s coming and ultimate succession to the Seat of Erebor; it therefore seemed safe to assume that the denizens of the Iron Hills would remove in order to see him crowned there. Nevertheless any elf knows that one must proceed with caution when entering into such territory as this; so he had set forth in a slow clockwise arc from whence he had cleared up camp. This course of action somewhat slowed his advancement but that hardly seemed to matter since he knew not where he was headed. at last he’d decided, “Eastward then!”  

“YOU ARE NOT SUFFERED TO PASS THROUGH THESE LANDS!”  

The winds had lessened considerably that night although the prevailing clear sky yielded a ground frost over the lands round about. Much of the evidence of the previous day’s battle had blown away, though the mountain remained forever scarred; as did many bodies and hearts. Legolas averted his eyes from that region and motioned toward the Empty Lands; empty save for the Iron Hills ahead to his right with the Redwater rushing southward from its source. The low morning sun lighting his progress remained unhindered by cloud, forcing him to throw up his hood to shield his sensitive eyes. The frost glistening as myriad white jewels had merged into a vibrant glare; and the usually russet heights stood dark save for a crimson peak-line slicing them against the blue, the river gushed as blood; he took it then as an ill omen but continued on regardless.  

“YOU ARE NOT SUFFERED TO PASS THROUGH THESE LANDS!”  

So it was that on the third morn since Erebor, Legolas chose to abandon the grey region for good and all. He knew this was a crucial moment for much unclothed land stood betwixt Dwarven-home and the last foothills of the Grey Mountains where he stood, and beyond far more bare territory still. He had risen long before the sun, being mostly prepared the previous night; thus he had taken a quick bite and packed up his bedding, and speaking in Elvish-tongue he had primed his mount for the sprint. However ere he put foot to stirrup, there spoke a voice above him: “Going somewhere, Woodlander?”  

Appalled, kindled and shamed, the elf with much haste systematically examined the hinterland; beholding thickset boxy profiles round about; then, from above and to his rear there came yet more, leaning forth into view from a low ledge above the rock-face whence he sheltered: “Dwarves!”    

Ere he could reach for a weapon needs must that Legolas elude a volley of stones; and keeping his back close to the wall he stooped low speedily tumbling beneath the mare, a flat-sharp missile aimed at his head bounced off the rock-stack and sliced into her rump.  The incensed horse hustled in flight through the approaching group of dwarves, splitting them up as she trampled; wherefore rising fast and reaching forth unto the saddlebag her reins-keeper unsheathed a blade as she went.  Legolas stood alone thus encircled by an unnumbered foe, whereupon a large sweep of stout shields closed in..

“Think not that we shall keep the granite back, Elf!” threatened one in front.  

“Think me not able to leap!” the prince replied.

“Aye, sprites can dance but we…”  

“YOU ARE NOT SUFFERED TO PASS THROUGH THESE LANDS!” an authoritative other interjected; when at once from him a jagged nugget cleanly struck Legolas’ brow, knocking his head hard into the rocky mass behind.  Those above him cast down a heavy net with woven metal strands, however this was not required since the flying stone did its work knocking the target out cold. It is not recorded by the Woodland Elves whether or not their prince heard Dwarven laughter that morning as he slumped into oblivion, but laugh they did, long and heartily; and oftentimes the more at the remembrance of it or in the telling of the tale.  

“Not dancing now, eh sprite?” gloated the threatener.

“GET HIM UP!” demanded the leader.  

“Are we going to have some sport?” said another.

“A Woodlander stake-down perhaps?” suggested the first voice from above as many others applauded his proposal.

“NAY, THIS ONE IS FOR DAIN!” spoke the leader.

“What: we are not taking him all the way to the Lonely Mountain?!”  

“NOT SO FAR, NOT YET: THIS FELLOW NEEDS ACCOMMODATION, SO LET’S FURNISH HIM WITH ONE OF OUR BEST ROOMS!”

A red dawn broke over the land as the merry company of Ironhill Dwarves wasted no time in hauling their thump-wilted detainee onto a goatwain. They swiftly dispersed into organised clusters; some fanning out cross-country embarking on patrol, whilst others marched directly homeward. Now, anybody viewing this operation from afar would have to esteem the efficiency of dwarves; particularly upon witnessing the apparent swallowing up by the landscape of those accompanying the prisoner, or indeed upon noting the lack of evidence that aught may have taken place, at the very place whence they departed.  

Had Legolas only known it, the dwarves took him deep into a territory long since kept secret these ages past; a vast subterranean network burrowed throughout much time by several hands, with divers causeways knit closely alongside the roots of the mountain ring above. This ancient marvel of industry originally spread from Mount Gundabad to the Iron Hills, as far up as the Withered Heath, also linking the Iron-lands to Erebor, and even impinging upon the watery grots beneath the northern borders of the elf’s own lands. In latter years the great complex fell into disrepair: the Gundabad-conduit was certainly collapsed by the dwarves themselves and other tunnels were neglected through disuse; yet some legends endure in children’s fables, citing ‘The Invasion of the Earth-eaters!’

These tunnels should not be compared to the Great Halls or Mines fashioned by the Khazâd in Durin’s time, rather they were built as a means of commerce and logistics between the Longbeard and Orocarni Mountain clans. Initially the dungeons were storage chambers along the ‘Famous Goat and Pony Road’ nigh to ‘Ironmasters Marketplace’ in more prosperous days. There are no annals that register the usage of these lockups as instruments of torment, but this practice almost certainly came into effect during and after the bitter Wars of the Dwarves and Orcs; each bank of cells being craftily measured to suit differing sizes of orc, some of which are apt for elves.  

Legolas had collected his thoughts thus far, having pieced together all what had taken place up until this morning’s attack; hereafter his cognition lit clearer.

Being still unusually restricted, he called out behind blinded eyes to see if any others were present with him, but there came no reply save the echo of his own voice; he now deemed correctly that he was being held underground.  He licked the corner of his mouth where the blood had dripped, and taking account of the rough handling by his captors he rightly guessed that the time of day must be between the third and fourth hour since the rising of the sun.  For some reason these estimations soothed him, he was back to himself for a moment. He recalled what his father used to say whenever he hurt himself as a child, “Sound thinking eases bodily pain!” and the impassive visage of Thranduil formed sharp in his mind’s eye.

“Legolas, your mother loved you… more than anyone… more than life…”

Those were his father’s parting words, the memory of which punctured all good sense as if shot through by one of his own arrows. Ultimately pain consumed him: the pain of loss, of estrangement, of love, of folly, of shame and bonds, and he cried out aloud because of it. So singular was that cry that the magnification of it alerted his subjugators to his awakening: after which he fell silent reverting to his accustomed composure once more, howsoever evident his physical discomfort.   

Beyond the walls two dwarves begin out upon a well walked passageway, cleverly hewn, well lit and very long; one tarries momentarily to pat himself down for a token not found as the other speaks, “One hour’s ‘Hard-fit’ is a tough penalty in anyone’s book, but two… that’s severe!”  

“He’s been out cold most of that time.”

“It pulls at the limbs something terrible, Gim, even after ten minutes I’ve heard the hardest of ‘em shriek; and all that regardless of wakefulness.”

“I know… but that’s orcs, Dad: Elves are… well… they’re bendy like!”    

“Elves are muscle and bone the same as us, Lad; not as tough mind!”  

“No two ways on that!”

“Huh, I’ll be surprised if his arms are still in their sockets…”  

At length Legolas perceives two sets of footsteps approaching from his left side which ultimately brake upon his cell door: the muted voices of their owners perish behind the rattle of heavy keys and the substantial clamour of hefty doors grinding apart on runners. The sudden influx of bright light pools about the entrance but doesn’t much reach his already shielded eyes; though right now that was the least of his worries, the newcomers had headed diagonally opposite to the farthest corner, whereupon one spoke: “There they are, drag them over!”

And then, THAT NOISE: an ear scrawping screech of heavy metal across a stone floor that squeals dead at his feet. The elf concludes the worst as two heavy boots stomp up steps approaching him and soon after Legolas can hear, feel and smell the breath of the one before him; he is unable to turn away.  A rough hand pulls the back of his skull forward, banging his throat on the iron choker and snagging a tress of hair already caught in it; “They fitted this one up good and tight,” says the closer dwarf, “Here, bring your steps around to the side of him!”

“Right-o,” a younger voice complies.

‘That sounded like him,’ thought Legolas, ‘That Kili!’  

After the displeasure of more racket within his sensitive ears, Legolas feels a burning on the right side of his face: “Put that bloody torch down you fool,” barks the elder, “Look, just step off: I’ll do it!”

“Why are we bothering anyway?” the offended junior sulks: “Let’s just…”

“Let’s just do nothing but follow our orders, RIGHT!” replies the chief dwarf, climbing the other block of stairs.  

“Whatever it is,” sighs Legolas dryly, “Please… do get on with it!”

“Who yanked your chain? Haha, oh yes it was me: do you want some more?”

The elf dips his head in resignation of the obtuseness of dwarves: “Aye, I thought not: Now don’t move!”

Chunky fingers rifle manfully through elven hair searching out the back of the blindfold, at last a long pin is removed and the strap comes apart; although the tacky blooded section must be peeled away from the skin.  

Legolas blinks in the torchlight as the dwarf takes the buckskin covering and, almost tenderly, wipes off the excess leakage covering his left eye: “That’s a nasty cut there; the back should be alright, just bruised: sore looking but!”

With that the dwarf steps down and beckons his young fellow, and then both stand deacon-like at the open doors, backlit by the corridor:

“Well?” questions the prisoner.

“Orders were that you witness what you have come to, so… give it a minute!”

He wanted to reply sarcastically in his best Dwarf accent, “Aye, it won’t hurt!” but in truth it really, really did, so he just offered back a wry smile and nod; the tactic worked: he felt ridiculous.  

Before long the dwarves re-enter and transfer the box-ladders against the wall behind him, yet more screeching: Legolas’ wits plead, ‘Could they not put wheels on those things?’ Those things slotted and fit beneath dark wooden blocks with tall vertical beams set into their fronts; the captive had not noticed them until now due to his restraints, and even now he needed to crane and strain to see their placement either side him at about a longbow’s length a piece. Presently, the little operatives key-in large looped studs into the uprights releasing a locking mechanism within each wooden block; and pulling the rings toward them the stanchions come out with a clunk, roughly fifteen degrees from their base.  

Nothing happens, “Did you count properly?” demands the supervisor: “Too right, I did!”

The dwarves alight and stand sturdily in front of Legolas. On a sudden there comes a deep rumbling directly above their heads followed by a series of loud clicks… one… two… three; then abrade, a rubbing of sorts, and one more click louder than before. After five seconds of silence the younger dwarf sniggers expectantly.  Now from behind, but still on high, begins an escalating whirr pursued by a cacophony of rapid chains, gears and wheels. Within seconds the ankle restraints loose and the dwarves rush in to prop up the elf as his legs give way; accordingly, the neck chain frees soon thereafter, compelling the reduced Legolas to collapse forward into their waiting arms.  They unshackle and de-collar him and lay him on a low cot; he hurts too much to resist them. There is then the bother and din of resetting the chains; shortly after which the lead dwarf draws near to the elf handling a bulbous flask:

“Here, drink this!”  

“What is that?” demands Legolas.

“Ale…” says the dwarf as the elf crinkles his nose: “Get it down you: What‘s the matter with you?  You’ll need that… we’ve a long walk ahead!”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see, come on sup-up!” says the dwarf as the prince wretches down the vulgar brew in stages: “Do you good that, build you up!” Legolas returns the flask, flopping back down: “No-no Laddy, no time for that!”  

“Tell me, what is your name sir?” enquires the elf politely.

“ur-well… I’m Dimroc and this is my lad, Gimroc, but we aren’t any Sirs!”

“Hail Dimroc and Gimroc, well met!”

“Likewise… I think!”

“May I ask… have you ever been up in those…?”

“The Orc Creakers: can’t say I have…”  

“I guessed as much, let me explain…”

“Spare us…” sneers Gimroc, who now in full view is nothing at all like Kili.

Dimroc wrestles within himself: “Now look I’ll offer ten minutes respite because your two hours aren’t up yet… and five for the courtesy!”  

Legolas groans with gratitude: “No Dad!” exclaims Gimroc.

“Fifteen minutes, no more… understand?”

“Thank you!” murmurs the elf.

“You, fit walking-irons on him: I need some ale… get the biggest set, Gim; he’s taller than most… and Son, do it civil!” Gimroc complies: disgruntled and somewhat perplexed, but knowing to hold his peace once ‘The Silence’ befalls his father. Even so, despite the dwarf’s honest obedience the longest chains proved too short for Legolas; allowing him the minimal flexibility of movement, for they were designed with orcs in mind, not elves.

Dimroc has worked the dungeons now these past forty-six years, and his son with him for the last eighteen; their main job is maintenance although included in this is the occasional loosing of exhausted orcs, and oftentimes from far worse devices used on the elf. Now, for a surety, Dimroc had heard the tale of how the two kings fell out of fellowship, and how a condescending elf lord demanding his due petulantly refused to assist Erebor in her gravest need. Nevertheless until now he had never before encountered an elf, and despite himself the conduct and durability of this one impressed him. Never before has he suffered compunction about any aspect of his work, but never before has any prisoner ever asked his name: “Orcs have no dignity,” he muttered to himself, “They curse, they bite, they spit and they always piss themselves!”

Thus, he gave Legolas twenty minutes in which to rest; even knowing that the Dispensation would be annoyed and what that could mean to him. Still, it would be unfair to assert that he took this action due to any particular liking for elves, but rather more to do with his own estimation of the day’s events. “This whole matter doesn’t sit right!” Dimroc later explained to his superiors; for to his mind, “Dwarves are better than we had shown; the very meat and mead of Dwarfdom dwells in strength, hardiness and good business: oath-keeping not grudge-bearing!” By his reckoning this prisoner posed no threat to Dwarvish-lands, “The elf was dodging the fringes just beyond the borders and heading toward the empty country!” In short, Dimroc believed that his own people overreacted with bigotry.  

Dimroc had spoken honestly, it was a long walk from the holding cell; and to whither, even now Legolas could not tell. His removal from the cot had been abrupt and hurried, all signs of former consideration had vanished being replaced with flint solemnity; the elf guessed accurately that the dwarves had delayed overlong. None of this however prevented them from fulfilling the remainder of their task, for someone other had instructed that the prisoner beheld the array of torture devices in each open cell as they passed them by. No doubt this parade was intended to intimidate, although one would not have known it with the mundane running commentary given by Dimroc of the names and uses of each instrument. Thereafter turning right, the walking party entered into a rough hewn corridor lit only with braziers at various exit points; the dwarves fully required their flamed torches. Legolas endeavoured to engage with them here but to no avail, receiving only terse directives as they went; the tedium of which being compounded by fettered footfalls linked to heavy irons curbing down his already sore wrists.  

At length the gloomy walkway brightened ahead of them, whereupon egress it opened out to a rotunda; here Dimroc bade them stop. There stood centrally a sturdy wooden table, seeming all the broader for its lone attendant around whom were several other open doorways; all of which seemed to have channels like to the one that the elf had just been through. A bright shaft lit the polished stone circular floor from an unseen source high above: another mystery of Dwarvish ingenuity long guarded throughout the ages. However, the thing most noticeable to anybody seeing this place for the first time was the narrow archway towering directly behind the seated official who now summons Dimroc. Handing the light to his son he motions toward his associate; the two speak together in friendly terms and soon afterward the small company are bidden, “Proceed!”  

Gimroc gestures casually with the flames, pointing ahead, and with a complacent roll-shouldered gait he returns his father’s torch. Legolas comes slowly after, halt in his chains; the third dwarf looks on him darkly as he sidesteps around the bureaucratic board. Dimroc bids his son to lead the way and then follows Legolas single-file beneath the tall pointed arch.  

Legolas plunges into darkness almost bursting his nose on a stone wall; he is saved by the strong fist of Dimroc grabbing the tail of his tunic pulling him back: “Mind your step, there’s a tight corner here…” whereon he shouts angrily to the lead, “Hey Dunderhead, you wait on us and light the way!”  He speaks again to Legolas, “My apologies, he’s not so bad really!” and with that he stretches forth his right hand bearing the torch:

“Now, go left here then right… I’ll show you when, the going will become rough soon so remember to keep your feet!”  

“The going: where are we going?”

“Up…”

“Up to what… to whom…?”

“Just up: now go on, PROCEED!”

They soon come upon Gimroc who with a smirk waits at the entrance of a small stairwell; he does not expect to receive a hard slap from his father’s unfavoured left hand: “When I give an instruction you follow it!  What’s gotten into you today, Lad?” The stone steps formed a compact coil without a handrail and had room only to clear one abreast; indicating to the elf that this spiralled flight must have a sister used exclusively for downward negotiation.  In order for him to access the stairway Legolas needed to stoop low and squeeze himself clumsily through; whereupon the now chastened Gimroc led at reasonable measure with his elder taking up the rear once more. The truth of Dimroc’s warning came into effect as soon as the elf tackled the first step; insomuch that the striding motion required to scale this height tightened his chains and pulled his limbs in defiance of all natural progression. It was not easy for him but Legolas adapted with shimmies here and hops there, and he just about managed to keep pace with the dwarves; indeed the going was rough. For the most part the treads were smoothly dimpled through much use, although others were uneven and cracked; but many of the risers however showed signs of injury caused by the impact of heavy iron-toed boots. This damage obliterated any semblance of nosing and cove work at the front of the steps, thus producing a jagged and indented course with many snags; irrefutably none of this proved conducive to impeded climbing. Therefore the ascent grew tiresome before long, although the dwarves seemed used enough to it; Legolas alas, despite his best efforts caught the base of his shin thrice and his right leg bled sore ere he reached the top.    

They emerged forth unto a vast colonnade with a bustling central square; the whole region stood almost as high as it was wide and was lit in the same concealed uncanny manner from above, only here on a far grander scale. The small delegation did not enter the plaza but rather turned left remaining sheltered beneath the outer pillared walkway. The injury to his leg caused the elf to limp and a great many dwarves witnessed his humiliation as he slowly went along; most of whom sneered in gloomy silence, whilst others muttered among themselves or grunted insults at the hapless captive. Here two things became apparent to Legolas: first of all this place was the heart of commerce in the Iron Hills and judging by the facades of the perimeter buildings it was also the centre of law; and secondly, he had critically misapprehended the number of citizens that would depart from here for the coronation of Dáin.  

At length there came a break in the column-way at the south-west corner whereat a broad road allowed access into and out of the square; and directly opposite from where the elf now stood there loomed a forbidding edifice, plain and windowless but with an excessively large and heavy ironclad door. Legolas instinctively knew that this was their point of arrival and he asked, “What is this place?”

“The Dispensation!”    

[maiden-of-wolves]

Fox & Ariel - Persistence

“Meeting” Scene Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Battle of Haven Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 The Winter Palace - Start The Winter Palace - Formal Introductions The Winter Palace - Secret Gathering The Winter Palace - Rift Battle The Winter Palace - Settling

Not actually any Ariel in this one; it’s all Venna. It’s their mission to Caer Oswin.

The actual journey to Caer Oswin was uneventful. Venna knew, thanks to Ariel’s knowledge, that it would be far from that once they got inside. All she said was that they would find the Lord Seeker and have to deal with a crazy cult who had strange beliefs about the seekers. She also said to go easy on Cassandra because the events that would unfold would be hard for her. Venna had a generally friendly relationship with the seeker, though she did always remind her that she couldn’t blame the mages for the war because the seekers weren’t keeping the templars in line.

As they approached the castle, said seeker had a few things to say. “Caer Oswin… odd that the trail should end here of all places.”

“Why’s that?” Venna asked, though she kept making her way up the winding dirt path. It was beginning to get overgrown, which made her think that the fancy shems that usually lived her weren’t living here any more or were in dire need of people to tend the paths.

“Bann Lauren is a pious, unassuming man,” Cassandra replied. “What has he become involved in to be the end point of our search?”

Venna barked out a laugh, turning so she could walk backwards and actually the seeker’s face as they moved. “If I’ve learned anything from all this time with you shems it’s that the world isn’t running by normal rules anymore. I’d bet the fancy shem is dead and whoever’s keeping seekers hid them here.” She shrugged, turning around the right way again. “Maybe the weird people that are so fascinated by your friends killed him, maybe not, but either way he’s not in charge anymore.”

“Pious is often another word for zealous,” Fox muttered.

Venna didn’t say anything, but she did gesture back towards Fox in nonverbal agreement of the sentiment. She didn’t like the Chantry before all this, and that was only becoming more cemented the longer she stayed in charge of this chaotic, mostly shemlen, crew.

Varric chuckled. “Often,” he admitted. “But not every time, Sly.”

The Seeker amongst them merely shook her head. She was not going to win this argument, as she’d tried many times to actively discuss the mage’s distrust of anyone that professed a love of the Maker and by extension the Chantry. She could understand it, on one level, as all mages seemed to hate templars on reflex from their own experience or from stories they’d hear from others. All except Vivienne, of course, and a few they’d taken in to Skyhold. The Chantry hadn’t wanted to see that it upheld a broken system until it shattered in their hands. Much more could have been done— should have been done— but the past cannot be altered.

Upon entering the castle, the door to which was suspiciously unlocked, they encountered a single soldier that appeared to be in high ranking Templar armor. The warrior did not even attempt to speak to them, instead charging the moment he noticed they were not people he recognized. Unfortunately for him, he was both outmatched and outclassed and fell without any real trouble on the part of the Inquisition squad.

“Well that was such a nice welcome,” Venna mused with a bitter chuckle. “I guess there’s no hope for a simple trade or something...”

While Cassandra didn’t say anything, she paused by the man’s body and pushed him a bit with her foot. Her brows furrowed as if she were thinking about something and it concerned her. When whatever she was looking for did not seem to appear, she simply removed her foot, shook her head and kept going.

“Something bothering you, Seeker?” Varric asked.

“Possibly,” she answered. “But I will reserve judgment until we see a bit more of this place.”

Her judgement apparently only needed another skirmish, this time with three heavily armored warriors. The battle was harder than the previous for obvious reasons but was not overly taxing. These were very passionate fighters, but blinded by either fervent faith or rage. Venna knew they weren’t Seekers, as Cassandra was not trying to talk to them or go easy on them.

“Promisers,” she spat, tapping one body’s breastplate with her boot. It echoed with a harsh thump. “I should have known.”

“Promisers?” Venna asked.

“The order of Fiery Promise. I should have known this was their doing…” Cassandra’s voice had dipped into a growl by the end of the answer.

“An order? Like the Templars and the Seekers? Or a cult mimicking them?”

The warrior quirked a brow as she looked at Venna. “Ariel knew of this, did she?”

“She told me that there would be a cult involved and that they had strange beliefs about the Seekers.”

Cassandra sighed before heading onward through the halls. “She is correct, as we have come to expect. The Order of Fiery Promise has hounded us for centuries. They believe that they are Seekers, the only rightful ones in fact. And they claim that we somehow robbed them of their powers long ago, which prevented them from ending the world.”

“Ending… the world?” Venna asked, it apparently being her turn to quirk a brow in confusion.

“Yes. As far as they are concerned, the only way to truly eradicate evil is to end the world,” she paused as they saw a open door at the end of the hall, stopping to put discussion to rest in case more Promisers were just ahead. “And a new world will be reborn from its ashes, as a paradise for them. A reward for their service. It’s all nonsense.”

“Sounds like it,” Venna agreed. “But the funny thing about belief is that it doesn’t have to make sense.” There was a hidden commentary on the Andrastian faith and even the pantheon that Venna herself had grown up with within the words, but the group did not pursue it. “Why haven’t the Seekers dealt with them before? If they were really that much trouble surely they could have asked for help from the Chantry or something, right?”

“We have, many times,” Cassandra explained. “But they just return some time later, like weeds that must find purchase before growing rapidly. No one knows how they keep coming back with these same beliefs.”

“But if they’re just a bunch of fakes, why are they such a problem for you? How would they have overcome and captured Seekers?”

“They tend to seek out and obtain forbidden or ancient magics before rising back up, using that power as ‘proof’ that they are stronger than us and thus the ‘true’ Seekers. Their being here does explain why there would be Seekers here, but not the connection to Corypheus...”

Venna tilted her head slightly. “Doesn’t it?” she asked. “He is an ancient magical thing in a way. And he wants to rule the world, right? So how much different would the ‘new world’ be if he promised a bunch of addled, power-drunk fools that they’d get their rebirth if they just capture Seekers, something they apparently already did anyway? I just… don’t know why he’d bother.”

“We are formidable warriors with unique skills,” Cassandra said, her words slow and deliberate as she thought over what Venna said. Yes, it did make sense, and the fact that it did made a shiver wrack her spine. “And I doubt any of our number would stand idly by with anything that Corypheus was trying to do.”

Venna tried to make eye contact with Fox, she knew Ariel had given him more details, specifics, but he refused to meet her stare. He simply sighed and shook his head. She almost asked him what he knew - what they were going to find - but thought better of it. Whatever it was, was bad. Perhaps he and Ariel believed Cassandra needed to see it as it would be presented. She didn’t like, at all, but she chose to trust them. When Ariel informed her that she’d told Fox virtually everything she knew and was willing to tell her as well, she chose to only know what she needed to in order to get the tasks done. Venna had a feeling that Fox often regretted knowing all the things he now did and every day seemed to give her a new reason to be glad of that decision.

They continued on, Venna leading this time. The halls were surprisingly quiet and empty and the only thing that drew their attention was a body. Venna didn’t recognize the armor at first, but Cassandra hurried past her and knelt next to it before turning it over enough that she could confirm their identity.

“A Seeker,” she breathed after a few moments. A quick check of their garments had her growling in anger. “Did they torture him to death? The Promisers will pay for this!” She stood quickly and headed out the nearby door to a wooden balcony.

Once they made their way into the large, open courtyard below they faced another squad of Promisers. This time, however, Cassandra in particular was vicious in her attacks and the battle was over without any real injury. At least on the part of the Inquisition. She approached one body, apparently finding the person who was the highest rank in the group, and searched it. It took her some time but she finally sorted through some papers she’d found in a satchel at the back of his belt.

“As the Seekers of Truth have proven resistant to the effects of Red Lyrium,” she read aloud as she stood and began pacing. “The Elder One has seen fit to place them in your care.”

“Well, there’s that link we were missing,” Venna sighed, reaching a hand up to massage her temple in an attempt to allay the oncoming stress.

Cassandra simply kept reading. “Reclaim your destiny. And know that the Elder One expects your devotion as repayment. Signed by Lady Calpurnia, Leader of the Venatori.” She simply let the letter fall where it may, now having no use for the scrap of paper. “Doesn’t he realize they want the world to end?! Why would Corypheus help them?”

“He opened the Breach,” Varric interjected. “Letting the world burn seems like a secondary thing to him. He just wants to rule it. Doesn’t matter to him if it’s a burning pile of shit.”

Venna snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right…”

“But that still doesn’t explain how they managed to capture the Seekers in the first place, or what they’re doing with them,” Cassandra argued.

“If the body we found earlier is any indication, whatever they’re doing won’t be good,” Venna reminded her. “And didn’t that letter say they were resistant to red lyrium?”

“Seekers have many gifts, but a resistance to red lyrium seems strange,” Cassandra answered. “But, if it is true, then Corypheus would have no leash with which to hold us and thus Seekers would be useless to him. Perhaps that is why he gave them over…” She shut her eyes tight and shook her head as she turned away. “Let’s keep moving. We have to find the Lord Seeker, at the very least. Surely he would not have succumbed easily to all this.”

They found themselves all but ambushed in a large hall they wandered into, the Promisers slinking out from behind the pillars as if they themselves were shadows before descending upon the group. That fight was much more difficult, as they found themselves outnumbered by almost three-to-one, but Fox’s lightning magic took out three of them all on its own as they stood behind the rest to ready their bows. Venna wanted to kick herself for forgetting to ask why he’d not used the particularly devastating frost magic that Ariel said he’d used in the Winter Palace. She’d never seen him use it before or since. Now wasn’t the time, though, and she doubted there would be a good time during this task so for now she put the reminder away.

As they proceeded, she took note of the odd throne-like chair at the top of the stairway leading away from the great hall. It seemed terribly primitive in decoration for such a grand castle. As they moved on she simply filed it away as a possible tendency of these Promisers. There were several large chests in a large hall above the hall that a quick glance inside revealed a fair amount of materials and equipment so both Venna and Varric nodded to themselves in solid reminder to note this place for scavenging once they were back in Skyhold.

When they made their way out panting could be heard down the hall. Cassandra ran ahead, taking a knee by a body that was propped up against the side of another set of stairs. “Daniel!” she gasped, reaching out to touch the man in either a desperate bid or his attention or to simply confirm that he really was still alive. “Daniel, can you hear me?”

“Cassandra…?” he answered after a moment, his lips cracked and voice echoing the dryness.

As the rest of the group approached the full extent of the problem became apparent. His skin was pale but held cracks of red that appeared to be the beginning stages of red lyrium usage.

“Andraste’s tits…” Varric breathed, trying not just stand there staring at the Seeker but unable to do much else. What had happened to the kid?

“I thought that they were resistant to red lyrium?” Venna questioned, though she was really just doing her best to distract from the state Daniel was in.

“It…” he started, “Is you… you’re… alive…!” Daniel gasped out, eyes glittering with tears that were surprising given his clearly dehydrated state.

“As are you,” Cassandra reminded him, patting his shoulder gently. “I’m so glad I found you.”

Venna bit back her commentary on the fact that this man likely wouldn’t be around much longer. Whatever was eating at him was very much in the advanced stages. She tried to imagine how she would feel if she found her clan in a similar situation and it nearly made her puke so she turned away. This wasn’t hers to face.

“No!” Daniel panted. “They put a demon inside me. It’s… tearing me up.”

“Maker’s balls,” Varric growled, putting a hand to his forehead in a completely futile attempt to massage away the oncoming headache from stress and sheer anger. “These Promisers are just as crazy and cruel as Corypheus!”

Cassandra shook her head sharply, brows furrowing. “What?” she asked. “You can’t be possessed! That’s impossible!”

Daniel shook his head weakly. “I’m not...possessed,” he managed to force out. “They fed me things— I didn’t— I can feel it growing!” He gasped out his words in panic, not even really making sense anymore.

“Those… creatures will pay for this,” Venna growled, though she still refused to watch the events unfolding behind her.

“No,” Daniel panted. “The Lord Seeker—”

“Of course,” Cassandra interrupted him, reaching out and gently touching his cheek. “We will find him. If he lives we’ll—”

“No!” Daniel gasped. “Lucius betrayed us, Cassandra.”

Cassandra was stunned into silence as Daniel continued, turning his head away and his gaze shifting into a thousand-yard stare.

“He sent us here, one by one. ‘An important mission’, he’d said.” Gathering some strength, presumably from his anger, he turned back to Cassandra with a glare. “Lies!” he spat out. “He was here with them all along and he’s still working with them.”

“No capture necessary…” Venna breathed, closing her eyes and swallowing down another rush of visceral upset. This was horrible and she could only imagine how Cassandra was feeling. It would be like a keeper selling their clan to Tevinter slavers one by one. The thought made her tilt her head back to help push back down another round of nausea.

“Wasn’t there a demon impersonating him in Therinfall?” Varric recalled.

“It wasn’t the demon that sent for us,” Daniel dismissed. “That came later.”

“But how?” Cassandra gasped. “Surely a demon taking over the ranks would have been noticed!?”

“The Lord Seeker allowed it. He let the demon take command while he…” he paused, as if actually saying it would complete the betrayal.

“Came here,” Cassandra finished, expression hardening as she looked up towards the top of the stairs. She stood, clearly gunning for the stairs, but Daniel reached out with far more speed than would have been expected of a man in his condition and grasped her wrist tightly. “Wait!” he gasped. “Don’t leave me like this. Please…!” His plea had his voice at a pitiful whine by the time it finished.

Varric took a cue from Venna and turned away, both not wanting to see the act of mercy that surely had to come next and wanting to give Cassandra some sense of privacy in the moment.

Their Seeker knelt down again, turning in his grip so she could grasp his wrist in turn as she looked him in the eyes. “You should have come with me,” she told him, her voice wavering slightly in a rare show of sadness. “You didn’t believe in this war any more than I did.”

Daniel laughed, though it was as dry and pained as expected. “You know me,” he panted. “I wanted that promotion.” He leaned over a bit, coughing and heaving as if talking even as little as he had had drained him of what was left of his hydration.

Cassandra stared at her fellow seeker for a moment, expression now naught but pain and sadness. “Go to the Maker’s side, Daniel,” she urged, voice still wavering upon the edge of crying. “You will be welcome.”

She made no ceremony out of granting him death, taking his own blade and slicing quickly across his throat. Her hand held his wrist until his went limp. She stood and closed her eyes tightly, presumably to both banish oncoming tears and refocus. When she finally spoke, it was both to the group and to no one. “He was my apprentice. I have never known a finer young man.”

She paused again and then rounded on Fox, grabbing him by the front of his robes. “You knew! You knew and you just walked in silence!”

Fox met her stare and though his voice was cold, it remained even. “And would you have believed it, Seeker? When you refused to evacuate Haven despite being able to see with your own eyes it was indefensible? You proved you could not be trusted with knowledge of the future. You do not get to now cry when you aren’t given it.”

“And what would it have changed, really?” Venna noted, her voice echoing sadness as she finally made herself turn around. “I know you are suffering, Cassandra, but there was nothing we could do for this before now. Some things can’t be changed even if you know about them.”

Cassandra growled and released Fox without a word. She made her way to the stairs, growling, “the Lord Seeker will answer for this.”

The journey up and out to an open space on the side of the castle was nearly silent. Even the battles they took place in along the way up the steep hillside were devoid of banter and only held occasional calls for assistance. What was there to say? This situation was horrifying and there was no point in discussing it until it had some kind of resolution.

The group eventually came to a door at a slightly less inclined portion of their path. Cassandra reached out to open it but paused to look at each group member in turn. She found determination in their eyes and an understanding nod from both Venna and Varric. It was enough and she pushed forward.

Only a short hallway that appeared to be some kind of storage space separated them from a large courtyard. Cassandra stiffened as they were approached but stopped to give some semblance of her willingness to talk. “Lord Seeker Lucius,” she ground out.

“Cassandra,” he replied smoothly, eyes shifting to Venna just to her side. “With a woman that I can only assume is the new Inquisitor.”

“For once, an assumption is done and doesn’t blow up in the assumer’s face,” Venna said, tone sharp and expression of barely contained anger.

The Lord Seeker didn’t seem phased. “I also presume that you know we ‘Seekers of Truth’ were once the original Inquisition.” He didn’t even pause to let that sink in before continuing. “Oh, yes. We, too, fought to restore order in a time of madness long ago. As you do now. And we… became proud. Sought to remake the world. To make it better. But what did we create? The Chantry. The Circles of Magi. A war that will see no end.”

“Just because you failed doesn’t mean we will,” Venna snapped. “You know nothing of us or of our people.”

“Of course you say that now,” he replied smoothly, not even quirking a brow at her openly hostile tone.

“So you did all this because you hate our order?” Cassandra asked, her prior hostility replaced temporarily with confusion.

“We Seekers are abominations, Cassandra,” he told her, tone echoing a disturbing fervor as if he were trying to convert his fellow Seeker despite the fact that she’d carved her way in blood to get to him. “We created a decaying world and fought to preserve it even as it crumbled. We had to be stopped.” He paused only to reach behind him and unbuckle a tome from his belt and hold it up. “You don’t believe me? See for yourself.” He held it out to her. “The secrets of our order. Passed to me after the former Lord Seeker was slain. The war with the mages had already begun, but it was not too late for me to do the right thing.”

“Oh, yes, because betraying, deceiving and murdering your own order just because you were able to as the head of it was ‘the right thing’?” Venna asked, tone vibrating with anger and static crawling up and down her staff in her hand.

“Lord Seeker, what you’ve done—” Cassandra began.

“I know,” Lucius answered, cutting her off. His voice almost sounded as if it held a tint of guilt but it returned to its fanatical tone as he continued. “What Corypheus has done with those templars he collected does not matter. I have seen the future and I have created a new order to replace the old. The world will end so we can start anew. A pure beginning. Join us, Cassandra. It is the Maker’s will!”

Cassandra growled as she unsheathed her blade, entirely unwilling to hear another word from the man’s mouth. He was mad and there was no saving him. She leapt at her former commander with all the fury she’d gained from having to grant a merciful death to Daniel.

While Lucius was powerful and he had a full squad of Promisers at his call the battle did not last long. Everyone wanted this done and held at least some level of disgust at what had transpired so there was not a drop of mercy to be found in their attacks.

When it was finally over, Cassandra returned to Lucius’ corpse and stood over it. “He was insane,” she told herself, already fashioning an explanation that was better for her cracked psyche. “He had to be. The influence of the Envy demon, perhaps? Remove the Lord Seeker so that it could take over the Templars?”

“Whatever the reason,” Venna sighed. “It certainly worked like a charm.”

“I refuse to believe he destroyed all of us!” Cassandra snapped, picking up the tome that Lucius had held out to her previously and tucked it under her arm. “I won’t accept it. Let’s return. I will see what is in this ‘book of secrets’ when we get back to Skyhold.”

The group made sure to leave several markers on their way back to allow for the Inquisition to later find, clear up and pick clean the castle. If they were lucky, their good relationship with the Ferelden crown would allow them to use the space as another outpost. Their banter was still kept to a minimum as they moved on. The journey back to Skyhold would take them several days but they forged ahead until the forests were simply too dark to keep going safely. Venna could see much better than her non-elven companions and scouted ahead to find them a place to camp. Luckily she found a small stream just a stone’s throw from a clearing and led them to it without any trouble. She let everyone know where the stream was before taking the tent supplies from Doriel’s pack and beginning to set up.

By the time they’d settled in and munched away on some berries Venna found for them as well as a meager dinner of a couple rabbits they’d managed to find nearby, the Inquisitor’s mind had finally worked through what she’d experienced. Once it calmed, it reminded her of a question that was unrelated and still unanswered. The group had finished their supper and Venna looked over at Fox for a few quiet moments before standing.

“Can I have a word, Fox?” she asked.

He nodded to her and she turned away, leading him to the very edge of their camp before stopping. She leaned against a nearby trees as she regarded him. “I’ve noticed something that I find myself curious about,” she began. “It doesn’t have anything to do with what we just witnessed, but rather with your habits.” She paused, trying to figure out how exactly to phrase this to get the proper question asked. “You seem to lean towards lightning, even fire on occasion, in battle. Yet, Ariel talked a great deal about your mastery of ice magic. It was imprecise, perhaps, but terribly effective. Honestly, after her descriptions I was hoping to see it myself and try to reconstruct it. But you haven’t used it. May I ask why not?”

Fox sighed, turned to a nearby tree and blasted it with frost magic from his bare hand, rather than channeling through his staff. He didn’t look back at Venna. “You’re familiar with the concept that some magics, even some specific branches of elemental magics, come more naturally than others to mages, yes?”

Venna only quirked a brow as she watched the display, not quite sure how to take the show of power. “Of course,” she answered, wanting to ask why he chose to use anything but that if it was his talent but decided to give him a chance to explain first.

“The element that comes most naturally, most easily, without thinking… Is frost.” He sighed again and turned back to her. Fire crackled along his staff blade. “I find it distasteful, but without a staff, it was the best for the situation.”

She nodded slightly, her eyes flickering to watch the flames as Fox’s staff. “I suppose the simplest answer is usually the right one,” she mused. “Thank you for indulging my question.”

“You’re welcome. It is very flashy, I suppose, but I’ve much better precision with lightning.”

“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want to be in the way of your natural talent, given how well you handle the elements outside of it,” she said, chuckling. “So perhaps it’s for the best in more way than just that.” The reply offered, she turned back towards the camp. “Thanks again. Perhaps we’ll talk a bit more before we all tuck in.”

Fox nodded, but made no move to move back to the rest of the group. He turned and stared at the still-frozen bark.

Venna only took a look behind her to see if he was following but paused. Her first instinct was to ask what was wrong, but she supposed if she were looking like that she’d want time alone rather than attention, no matter how well-meaning that attention may have been. So, she headed back to camp. She stole occasional glances back to Fox just to make sure he was still there and when he did finally return she offered him as bright a smile as she could muster in an effort to at least make him feel welcome.

[terselylove]

30 Weird Careers You Never Knew Existed That Might Help You Find Your Calling

1. I work in QC (Quality Control) for media.

In one company they occasionally paid me to watch porn to make sure it was in sync and in good quality for video on demand distribution.

In another company I spent years watching movies before release in secure theater-like rooms, to make sure the files are ready for distribution (subtitles and audio in sync, no picture corruptions, stuff like that). I always got to watch the biggest movies of the year in a giant screen weeks before they were released (sometimes months!).

I got the job by going to film school.

2. I spend about 80% of my day designing those large overhead signs you see on the highway.

3. I design water parks. I went to college for Graphic Design and Advertising. In my last year I had to do an internship, so I took one at an aquatic engineering firm to help organize photos. 10 years later I am a project manager and create resort deck and water park programs.

4. My boyfriend is a high rise window cleaner. There are only 4 in our city. He loves his job! Sometimes when he is working, I will go to the city to the building he is cleaning and look up at him on the street. So cute.

5. I used to work on a lavender farm! It’s totally unrelated to my field of study and incredibly difficult in terms of manual labor, but man was it a beautiful place. I tended to the plants, took care of goats, and did processing for the herbs and honey. My grandparents are farmers and so I grew up with mediocre knowledge of field work and beekeeping and when a friend’s mom decided to start a business centered around lavender she asked me to help out for the summer.

6. You know when you’re watching a sports program and you see the little pop-graphic in the corner (ie. a baseball players stats, or an advertisement for easy-mac, or “stay tuned for Saved By the Bell @ 9!”)? Yeah. That was me.

7. I work in a lab where I raise moths! I got it by telling my lab partner that I love bugs and he hooked me up.

8. I’m a chyron operator. I trigger motion graphics on live TV. I was an art student and also was in stage crew in high school. These things got me jobs backstage in theater, which got me a job in TV doing normal stuff like cameraman and stuff like that. Since I was an art major I asked if I could do graphics and they let me on the weekends, and my specialty eventually turned to the chyron which ingests the graphics that artists make and plays them back through the switcher that controls the news broadcast. It’s not technically an art position but at my job specifically I could make the graphics in after effects and photoshop during the day (if I have a computer free) and in the afternoon I play the chyron. Usually you are one or the other, because chyron operators don’t need art skills, it’s just another tech job like audio operator or camera operator or stage manager or whatever. These kinds of jobs are getting rarer because they are being automated. But since I’m also an artist I get to keep my job because if someone leaves I can take their job.

9. I used to be a hand model.

Apparently I have really really good looking hands. Although they look completely normal to me.

People were always asking me how I got into it so it was fun to bullshit people I was “discovered” on the street, now I moisturize 15 times a day and sleep with my hands in plastic bags….

The money was great but I’d have to spend long days on set being careful not to wreck my manicure. (Which they paid for of course! Also paid for the time it took to get the manicure.)

Mostly did TV commercials.

Now I tell people at parties I’m a retired international hand model but gave up show business for the much more worthwhile and rewarding career of teaching kids to read….

10. I’m a Hostage Survival Trainer.

I was working in international development within IT, and was asked to go and sort out the finance system in Iraq back in 2007. The ministry I was working in got attacked by a militia and myself along with my 4 guards got captured.

Over time the guards were killed and I got released in an exchange deal after being held for over 2.5 years.

11. I spent a year on a team reclassifying the Duke University Library system from Dewey Decimal to Library of Congress. Had to learn like four different alphabets just to label them properly.

12. Official court stenographer. I type everything everyone says in court. I was told about it in high school and thought it sounded cool so I went for it. Took 5 1/2 years in college, but I’m nationally certified to type 260 WPM and regularly push above 300 WPM in court.

13. Cameraman for Live PD. Went to film school to make movies then slowly worked through Ice Road Truckers, Ax Men, Boston’s Finest, and Nightwatch. Found out I have a perfect blend of art and athleticism that can be hard to find.

14. I make whiskey. It took a shit load of time, luck, skill and perseverance to get where I am.

15. Stagehand. I set up everything from huge concerts and Broadway shows to small private events and interviews. It’s a wonderful job and I love the people I work with.

16. I was a puppeteer for many years and I actually got that job from an ad in the classifieds. It cracks me up that there is a scene in Being John Malkovich where he tries to find “puppeteer” in the classifieds and fails.

17. I have been an online Community Manager for over 20 years.

I started in video games and moved into technology companies. I’ve worked on everything from Star Wars to telecommunications networking equipment and software that help companies move data fast.

It started as a hobby. I was a web developer so very fluent with the web. Started a fan site and grew up it large. Moved on to volunteer for another game company who eventually hired me full time.

18. My parents are escape artists and escape consultants. My dad started as a magician doing birthday parties as a teen, then got really into escapes, then became the #1 guy designing and consulting on escapes for famous top magicians.

19. I have a job tracking rodents in restaurants. I set up cameras, movement sensors, IR sensors and other gear, and get an idea of the problem and how to fix it.

20. I used to cut pictures of weewees and hohas off packaging of adult toys. All day every day. I got the job by being able to pass a drug test.

21. I mix fire retardant for fighting wildfires. A lot of people know that airplanes drop retardant on fires but don’t think about the millions of dollars of infrastructure that is behind that operation. Everyone who works at my base started by working at the local ski resort. It’s a good way to earn enough money in the summer to coast all winter so we keep the jobs among fellow ski bums.

22. In the summer I guard and clean the toilet units (not the toilets) for festivals. I got the job trying to find a cheap way to go to the big festivals and this organization was looking for volunteers.

So all I have to do is stand in front of the units, make sure the ground stays clean, everyone had toilet paper and clear a block of units so the cleaning team can do their job.

Another part of the job is making sure no one dies or passes out in such a unit. You can’t imagine how many drunk (often naked) people we need to get out of these units and escort them to the First Aid.

23. I’m a potter. I used to be the manager for a museum art school, and began taking classes there years ago. Eventually transitioned into being a full time potter and pottery teacher.

24. I work as an Air Traffic Controller. Not weird but not many of us around.

I pretty much fell into it after passing an aptitude and it’s just been swell since.

Albeit, the classic phrase from strangers: isn’t that the job with the most suicides?

It might be, but I don’t know anyone. It’s actually super chill and rewarding when you get it right. (We always try get it right, but when you get it super right you’re dead pleased.)

25. I’m a welder. But what I do isn’t very common. I build Virginia Class Submarines.

26. Water Quality testing. I go around and collect samples for various testing to ensure the water meets the state standards. I got lucky and met someone who was volunteering at my previous job and she told me to apply. Was not the direction I saw my career going but it was definitely worth it.

27. I cleaned grills for super rich people in Palm Beach. Even got to clean Michael Jordan’s at one point. And it was recommended to me from a friend who was in sobriety with me after I got clean.

28. I’m a House Manager for a family of four, basically I’m a female butler. I’ve worked for them for 14 years starting as the kid’s Nanny, they’re my second family pretty much! I organize trades people, holidays, birthdays, daily meals, dinner parties, housekeeping, the list goes on… It’s challenging at times but keeps me on my toes and I enjoy that.

29. Concrete petrographer. I just started this month. I studied geology in college and now my job is to look at concrete using petrographic methods I learned at school and conduct ASTM tests to determine quality of concrete. Very interesting work because concrete is engineered rock and there’s A LOT more to it than you think.

30. I work in a clinical lab where I get to play with baby sweat for a bit of my day. We are testing for chloride level. Increased chloride in sweat is one of the diagnostic markers for cystic fibrosis. I am a clinical laboratory scientist. Not all clinical labs perform this test but I am lucky enough to work at a lab where we do a couple interesting low volume tests.

[boystownbirdie]

NEW PHONE WHO DIS?

Are you an inexperienced or inconsistent Game of Thrones viewer? Are you not quite sure who all of these people are and why you should care about them or their hairstyles? I present to you… New Phone, Who Dis?  A guide to the major characters of Game of Thrones, season 7, brought to you by the same blerg that brought you, LET ME WATCH TV 4 U? 

For each character we’ll be answering the following questions: WHO DIS? Who are their still-alive allies (best budz)? Will he/she win the game of thrones? Will he/she survive the next 11 episodes? I’ll start with a quick n’ dirty guide to the big 3 families and then get into individuals… 

Before we start, SPOILER ALERT,  OBVI. Let’s go!

The Starks

Members: Mom (Catelyn) and Dad (Ned) are both dead, so you don’t need to know much about them except that Ned died at the end of season 1 and Catelyn died at that “red wedding” people are always talking about. They had 5 kids: Robb (also died at the red wedding), Sansa (alive!), Arya (also alive!), Bran (wow also alive!), and Rickon (RIP). There’s also Jon Snow aka Bae who was raised as “Ned Stark’s bastard” but was recently confirmed to be the son of Ned’s sister Lyanna and Rhaegar Targaryen, so he’s actually Ned’s nephew and is a sort of Stark-Targaryen mix. For ease of reading, I’ll refer to him as Ned’s son for the rest of this post since this is knowledge that you and I and Bran have but Bae doesn’t even know yet.

Hobbies: Giant wolves, talking about winter, suppressing their feelings, following the rules, dying and coming back to life (well mostly just Bae), living at Winterfell (their home base)

The Lannisters

Members: At this point it’s just 3 adult siblings and get this, THEY’RE ALL ALIVE. Which is truly shocking. There’s Cersei (aka Queen Pixie Cut or QPC), her twin bro/lover Jaime, and their little bro Tyrion (who, despite his heritage is definitely not #teamLannister). QPC and her bro pro-created and had 3 kids together, that she pretended to be the children of her hubby, King Robert Baratheon. Sadly her kids and former hubby are all no longer with us.

Hobbies: Incest, drinking wine, lions I guess?, being rich, killing people who threaten to reveal their secrets or get in their way

The Targaryens

Members: Daenerys (aka Khaleesi) is the only real, legit one who is still alive THAT WE KNOW OF. Jon Snow (Bae) is technically her brother’s son and therefore a Targaryen but he doesn’t know that yet. The only other legit Targaryen we met in the series was her brother Viserys who was THE WORST and got his face burned off.

Hobbies: Dragons, fire, being in-flammable (is that a word?), traditionally they were also into incest but Khaleesi hasn’t gotten into that yet

***Important takeaway: At this point, most of the characters are either #teamBae (Stark), #teamQPC (Lannister), or #teamKhaleesi (Targaryen)**

Now let’s jump into our characters!

WHO DIS?

DIS IS: Jon Snow aka Bae aka King of the North aka (former) High Commander of the Nightswatch aka Lord Snow/ King Crow/ The White Wolf. He is famously moody but he is a legit kind, respectful, and open-minded person who is a skilled warrior. He also was stabbed to death by a bunch of his friends at the celibacy-training-academy but then came back to life when an evil witch lady did a spell, TG. Follow up Q- Why is he “Bae?” Because look at that face, duh. But also he is generally pretty #woke and v sensual, esp in season 3 when he meets his lover and breaks his vows of celibacy to tap dat. Said lover famously repeats the phrase “you know nothing, Jon Snow,” but turns out HE DOES KNOW SOME STUFF. Talkin’ bout sex stuff.

Best budz? His besties are Sam, currently studying to be a maester (doctor/historian/librarian/bed-pan-cleaner) and his giant wolf named Ghost. He’s also got his half-sis Sansa on his side as well as No-Knuckles (a nice old dude with some leadership experience), Lady Mormont (the most badass 11 year old you’ve ever met), and a bunch of other “Great Northern Houses” who proclaimed him King of the North. He’s also pals with a bunch of “wildlings” who are people who were born North of the ice wall as well as the current “Nightswatch” dudes who he left in charge when he headed to Winterfell.

Will he win the game of thrones?  Maybe? He’s the only current leader who seems as concerned as he should be about the white walkers (giant army of ice zombies who are LOVING this winter weather). Plus he’s a decent guy (chill dude, likes to hang out) AND he’s got that Targaryen and Stark background so he’s got some legit claims to the throne.

Will he survive the next 11 episodes? I think yes. Again, he already died and came back to life so I doubt that will happen again.

WHO DIS?

DIS IS: Sansa Stark, current Queen of Winterfell (I guess?) former fiancee of Joffrey (now dead), former wife of Tyrion, former wife of Ramsay Bolton (he was evil and she had his dogs eat him) and second oldest legit Stark kid. She used to be obsessed with #fashun and Joffrey but then he turned out to be insane in the membrane and she’s spent the past 5 years being tortured, raped, and traded around by dudes until she reunited with her half-bro, Bae. Now she is much more practical and less trusting and as we’ve seen in the past 2 eps, not always on the same page with Bae.

Best budz? Brienne of Tarth aka Ladyknight is sworn to protect her, as is her squire, Pod. She was pals with Theon (previously-traumatized Theon) because he helped her escape evil Ramsay and I guess she’s friends with Littlefinger who is one of the said dudes who’s been trading her around. Littlefinger is apparently in lurve with her but also WAY OLDER and also used to be in lurve with her mom which is super creepy.

Will she win the game of thrones? Unlikely. She doesn’t really seem to want to be in charge of anything at the moment, but that could change.

Will she survive the next 11 episodes? Doubt it. She’s already been through a lot and while I’d love to see her happy and safe and living her #bestlife, I kind of doubt she will survive to the end because she’s been hangin’ by a thread for awhile.

WHO DIS?

DIS IS: Arya Stark aka “A Girl” aka Arry aka former intern at the face-swapping-assassin-training academy turned rogue assassin. She recently reconnected with her roots and it seems like she’ll be heading home to see her sis and half-bro in Winterfell. She’s a skilled swords-woman and has never been into anything traditionally feminine. She was briefly blind and before that was a captive of “The Hound” who hoped to trade her for some $$ but ended up escaping from him. Most recently, she killed Walder Frey (a powerful old dude who was pals with the Lannisters) and then poisoned like 100 of his friends and family.

Best budz? Before they were separated, she and Bae were very close (not in an incest way, tho) and she has a friend named Hot Pie who’s a great local chef #eatlocal. She and her sis Sansa were never very close because of their vast differences, but I’m pretty sure they’ll be happy to see one another alive. She made friends with this dude Gendry who is secretly the bastard son of Cersei’s ex-hubby but she hasn’t seen him in awhile. 

Will she win the game of thrones? Doubtful. Again, she’s showed no ambition to lead but has shown great skill as a fighter. My guess is she will end up as a knight or some other type of warrior/fighter/guardian.

Will she survive the next 11 episodes? I’m gonna say yes. She is VERY HARD TO KILL even for trained assassins. 

WHO DIS?

DIS IS: Bran Stark aka the NEW AND IMPROVED three-eyed-raven, youngest living Stark kid (presumed dead by many), paraplegic but what he lacks in mobility he makes up for in ability to see into and affect events in the past and enter the brains of animals and other humans. He’s been up North of the ice-wall for awhile but as of season 7 ep 1, is safe with the nightswatch at the wall and likely headed to see his fam at Winterfell. He’s the only person (that we know of) who knows the truth about Bae’s parentage.

Best budz? His best bud is Meera, a very badass chick who helps him get around/survive. He also met and be-friended Bae’s friend Sam a few seasons ago and also briefly reunited with his uncle who is now some sort of ice-zombie-human-hybrid who helped him and Meera survive up North. 

Will he win the game of thrones? Naw. More than likely he’ll be important in the war against the ice-zombies since he has tons of experience with them, but he’s unlikely to lead. 

Will he survive the next 11 episodes? I think so.  Again, his ability to see and potentially affect past events will be super important so I’m thinking people will continue to work hard to protect him.

WHO DIS?

DIS IS: Tyrion Lannister aka the Imp aka Hand of Queen to Daenerys Targaryen (aka Khaleesi) aka former husband to Sansa Stark, former lover of Shae, former Hand of the King to Joffrey.  He loves to drink and read books so he knows a lot of shit but also can be a sloppy, cynical mess. He hates his sister (the feeling is mutual) but has some amount of love and respect for his brother, Jamie. He was in love with Shae but she betrayed him and got with his dad so he killed them both. In his defense, they testified against him which led him to be sentenced to death. After that he left Lannister-life behind to meet up with Khaleesi and co. He’s been able to show off his strategizing-skills as well as knowledge of military maneuvers in his current role.

Best budz? He’s friends with Khaleesi and her crew, as well as this dude Varys (aka Sleevey) who brought him to Khaleesi in the first place. Again, he and his bro Jamie have a complicated relationship but in the past they’ve gotten along. He’s also friends with this dude named Bronn, who, last we checked was working for Jamie. And there’s his former squire, Pod, now works for Ladyknight and famously saved his life during an important battle.

Will he win the game of thrones? He really could. He’s shown great leadership skills and the ability to learn from past mistakes. He’s not too idealistic or unwilling to compromise which are also important in this world.

Will he survive the next 11 episodes? I’m gonna say yes. He’s an important character since he’s a Lannister who is #teamKhaleesi and who has befriended 2 of the Stark peeps, meaning he’s a bridge between these 3 warring groups. I’d bet on him lasting until the end.

WHO DIS?

DIS IS: Cersei Lannister aka Queen Pixie Cut aka QPC aka Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and current sitter on the “Iron Throne” which is what everyone is always jones-ing to sit on. She recently blew up an entire church full of people (and probably most people within a ½ mile radius too) because they were gettin’ on her nerds. She is intelligent but cruel and recently got a terrible haircut against her will and had to walk naked through the streets. She used to have 3 kids: Joffrey who was also cruel and was poisoned (she blamed Tyrion but it was actually Littlefinger and Grandma Tyrell’s fauly), Myrcella who was nice but also got poisoned (this time by the Sand Snakes/ Dornish Queen lady) and Tommen who jumped out a window after the church explosion.

Best budz? Her bro/lover Jaime is pretty much her bestie and the only person she can really trust at this point. She also likes the current “Maester” who notably is into human experimentation and brought back “The Mountain” (a giant bodyguard/fighter dude who is The Hound’s brother) from the dead a few seasons ago. Now he is basically a giant zombie-hybrid and she likes him too because he kills and tortures people for her.

Will she win the game of thrones? Doubtful. She went to this fortune-teller-lady when she was young that said she’d have 3 kids who would all die young (which came true) and that she’d be overthrown by a younger and more beautiful queen and be killed by her younger brother. Most people think that this younger hawtie kween is Khaleesi but fortunes can be wrong!

Will she survive the next 11 episodes? Again, doubtful due to the prophecy. If it’s true, either Jaime or Tyrion (since both are technically younger than her) could kill her in the next 11 eps. Tyrion is the more likely candidate but who knows! (George RRRRR Martin, that’s who )

WHO DIS?

DIS IS: Ser Jaime Lannister aka The Kingslayer aka Oathbreaker aka QPC’s brother/lover aka the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. He’s a tricky character since he loves his sister a lot but also seems to have a stronger grip on reality. He is a great fighter but got a hand chopped off in like season 2 and has been a embarrassed about it ever since. He’s the de facto leader of the Lannister army and has shown great skill in battle and manipulation of his enemy. He famously killed the “Mad King” by stabbing him in the back, earning the kingslayer/oathbreaker nicknames.

Best budz? His sister, obvi. And he has been a fan of his brother in the past although right now they’re on opposite sides. He also got set up with Bronn on a friend-date by his bro Tyrion. He and Brienne (aka Ladyknight) are also one of the many #unlikelyfriendships the show has had and she’s now #teamStark. 

Will he win the game of thrones? Probably not. He doesn’t really seem to have any leadership ambition, so I’d say no. He may be standing next to whoever wins, though.

Will she survive the next 11 episodes? Probably. He’s hard to kill and has connections to each of the warring factions at this point. I can see him turning on his sis and changing sides which would make him an asset and therefore likely to #stayalive #hamilton.

WHO DIS?

DIS IS: Daenerys Targaryen aka Khaleesi aka Myhssa aka The Unburnt aka Mother of Dragons aka Breaker of Chains aka Queen of Mereen aka Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Heir to the Iron Throne. Her dad was called “the Mad King” because he loved to burn people alive (just like QPC!) and she was shipped to the east part of the world right after she was born so she wouldn’t get killed by the Lannisters and Co. She’s spent the last 6 seasons working her way across the eastern continent, first marrying a hawtie horse-king dude who later died from an infected wound, having a stillborn son with him, and then she “gave birth” to 3 dragons at the end of season 1. I know what you’re thinking, PEOPLE CAN’T BIRTH DRAGONS. True. Basically she had 3 petrified dragon eggs and after the loss of her husband and child, she walked into a great funeral pyre and came out later with 3 bb dragons who came from those petrified eggs. She cannot be burned by fire at all, which is pretty kewl. She also set free thousands of slaves and then ruled a kingdom out east called Mereen for awhile. Now she is finally back in the West after all this time to reclaim the throne. She is very intelligent, fierce, but also thoughtful and well-loved.

Best budz? Her translator/bestie is Missandei with the good hair. She’s also pals with Tyrion (who is her “hand” or basically Vice President), Greyworm (the leader of this army of soldiers who she set free but who decided to keep being loyal to her anyway), Grandma Tyrell (whose family got burned up in QPC’s fire last season), Previously-Traumatized Theon and his sister Yara (who is the leader of the Greyjoy fleet of ships), the Sand Queen lady (Queen of Dorne/ mother of the “sand snakes”), Sleevey (Varys- an advisor who used to work for the Lannisters but defected) and last but not least, her old pal Stoney who is currently getting amateur surgery for stoney-skin-disease by Sam (Bae’s bestie). PHEW. She’s got a lot of pals.

Will she win the game of thrones? MAYBE? She would be a great leader and has overcome every obstacle thus far. But if George RRRR Martin has taught us anything, it’s that #youcantalwaysgetwhatyouwant and also no one is immortal, really. But she’s got a good chance.

Will she survive the next 11 episodes? Probably! Again, she can’t be killed by fire and she’s got a lot of people around her who would do anything to protect her.

Those are all of our major characters! I could do a supporting-cast character breakdown if that would be helpful, just let me know. Thanks for reading and tell your friends!! 

[mistrstank]

Buttercup’s Bad Day

[[ For those who have been following me for a while, you may remember Buttercup, the Murder Queen! I decided long ago I wanted to write a story featuring her various adventures. Today I decided to write one based on a line from the first story, in which Buttercup defends Tony from a kidnapping attempt. This is mostly lighthearted silliness, so I hope you enjoy! Link to the original fic ]]

“You know, I’ve been thinking.” Clint declares early one morning, watching with barely concealed amusement as Buttercup quite obviously herds a barely awake Tony around hazardous furniture. “I thought I smelled burning,” Natasha offers with a smirk and Clint flips her off. “No, seriously. I think Buttercup thinks Tony is her kitten.” Natasha’s eyes narrow consideringly, and then twitch as she fights off a smile. Tony is oblivious to their discussion, staring hopefully at the coffee machine while Buttercup sits patiently on his socked feet. Marigold struts into the room a moment later and leaps gracefully into Clint’s lap where she begins to loudly meow for her breakfast. Clint fends the persistent cat away from his toast with one hand, scowling at Natasha who makes no secret of her laughter. “Cut it out, beast!” He squawks, and then gives up entirely when Marigold succeeds in getting her sharp little teeth around the edge of his toast. With her prize claimed, Marigold promptly abandons Clint’s lap and disappears underneath the table, leaving her human to sulk.

[[ beware the cut, mobile users! ]]

“Toast probably isn’t good for cats,” Tony offers, apparently having come alive some time during the epic toast battle. He’s got a bowl in hand, half filled with biscuits that he’s carefully layering shredded tuna over. “I didn’t exactly get a choice.” Clint grouses, and Tony simply grins, popping the bowl down for Buttercup. “Guess it’s hard, when your cat’s trained badly.” He responds, all false sympathy. “My cat? Technically, it’s your boyfriend’s cat! And besides, everyone knows you can’t actually train cats!” “No, definitely your cat. You adopted her, you hide in the vents with her, and you once dropped her on Tony’s head as a prank.” Bucky cuffs the back of Clint’s head as he passes, carefully skirts the edges of Buttercup’s ‘Tolerance Zone’, and plasters himself to Tony’s back. “Ew, you’re sweaty.” Tony complains half heartedly, but allows himself to be squished into a hug, Bucky nosing gently at his temple and pressing a gentle kiss there. “You love it.” He whispers, smiling at Tony’s wrinkle nosed displeasure. “Well yes, under certain circumstances, but-” “Nope!” Clint interrupts, flailing his hands, and when Tony’s eyes start to twinkle and he starts to smirk, Clint does the only thing available to him. He steals Natasha’s spoon from her cereal bowl and chucks it at the couple. It rebounds off of Tony’s shoulder, because Clint never misses, to his surprised ‘ow!’. There’s a brief silence in the kitchen, and the hairs begin to stand up on Clint’s arms; Natasha looks amused, not like she’s about to kill him, but also a little nervous, which makes Clint nervous. At first he thinks Bucky’s going to murder him, but the former Winter Soldier is happily nuzzling at Tony’s abused shoulder, and he looks unbearably smug. “Mrooooooow.” Comes from the floor, directly at his feet, and Clint slowly looks down. Buttercup yowls again when their eyes meet, and Clint swallows noisily. Then he does the wise thing, and runs.

“That cat is terrifying.” Bucky observes into the silent kitchen a moment later, absently carding his fingers through Tony’s hair. “I like her,” Natasha says serenely, accepting the replacement spoon Tony hands her with a smile. “Well, obviously a murder cat would meet with your approval. Since, you know, you’re all murdery and stuff.” Tony waves his hands vaguely in Natasha’s direction, who merely shrugs, and then winces at the distant sound of things breaking. “That sounded expensive.” He mourns quietly, and Bucky snorts quietly. “Don’t you have a meetin’ this mornin’, doll?” He drawls, and Tony’s face immediately screws up into an adorable pout. “Don’t even try lyin’, Pepper already called me.” “Cheaters and liars, all of you!” Tony declares, only slightly mollified by the kiss Bucky swiftly presses to his forehead. “I’ll remember this betrayal, Barnes. There will be repercussions!” He continues, unperturbed, flicking forked fingers at his boyfriend in the universal sign of ‘I’m watching you’ and walking backwards out of the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later finds Tony suited up in his least favourite set of armour, the doors of Avengers Tower swishing quietly closed behind him. His car is waiting at the curb, expressionless driver standing patiently by the open door. He’s reminded again of how much he misses Happy, Tony muses as he slides into the back of the car. He settles the briefcase armour at his feet and slides his sunglasses onto his nose. The driver is just about to close the door when a familiar furry shape comes streaking across the pavement, yowling indignantly. The driver merely waits, expression so bland Coulson himself would be impressed, as Buttercup leaps gracefully into the car, and then shuts the door. “What?” Tony demands as Buttercup fixes him with a disapproving stare, flounces across the seat and sprawls across his lap. He stares down at her, eyebrows twitching into a frown. “This suit is very expensive.” Tony points out unnecessarily, not really expecting much of a response from his evil cat. Buttercup looks up at him with slitted eyes for a moment, and then yawns wide, wiggling a little and sure, maybe it’s to get more comfortable but Tony is convinced she’s trying to rub her fur further into his pants. Tony gives up on trying to keep his pants cat free, settles back against the plush leather seat and scratches gently at Buttercup’s ears. If he’s lucky, she’ll forgive him by the time they get home for trying to leave her behind.

Tony likes to think he’s always had pretty good instincts; a nose for danger, mostly because he tends to go diving head first into it. Years of living and fighting with a superhero team have done a lot to hone those instincts, and taught him some new skills besides. So when the same nondescript black SUV has been behind them for a good half of the drive, Tony notices. “J,” He murmurs, glad for the ever present earpiece that keeps him connected to his AI. “We picked up a tail.” “Running the numberplate, sir. Shall I alert the team?” The AI responds, cool and professional. Tony hums thoughtfully, smoothing his hands through Buttercup’s fur. “Not yet, let’s try and lose them first.” He decides, taking his phone out with his other hand as JARVIS feeds him the traffic camera feeds. “That’s...discouraging.” Tony mutters, leaning forward to rap at the privacy screen. It slides down a couple of inches, just enough for the driver to give Tony a meaningful look in the rear vision mirror. The car starts to pick up speed, weaving randomly between cars. Tony makes a note to eventually learn the man’s name. “The license plate appears to belong to a Mary Dodson, 62 years of age, reported stolen three weeks ago.” JARVIS intones quietly, and Tony curses. “Okay, so no chance that it’s paparazzi or something equally benign.” Tony decides, gently shifting Buttercup to cradle her in one arm and reaching down to flip the briefcase open with the other. He can’t suit up in the confines of the car, there’s not enough room for that, but better prepared than dead. He keeps an eye on the tailing car through the traffic cams, dismayed to note it’s grimly hanging in there. “Sir, might I recommend at the very least contacting Sergeant Barnes?” JARVIS sounds anxious, and Tony chews his lip. Everything in him rebels against worrying Bucky for what could still be nothing, but Tony’s instincts scream it is something. Sensing her human’s tension, perhaps, Buttercup had gone still and tense in his arms. “Yeah, alright, put the call through.” Tony decides finally. It rang barely twice before Bucky’s warm voice flooded the interior of the car. “Missed me already? You’ve only been gone half an hour.” “Sorry, sweetcheeks, this is strictly business.” Tony responds with false cheer, keeping a narrow eyed watch on the camera feeds. “Picked up a pretty persistent tail not long after I left. We haven’t managed to shake them yet.” Bucky swore colourfully, his voice immediately dropping into the cool, hard tones of the Winter Soldier. “Where are you, exactly?” He demands and he sounds like he’s moving, doors slamming in the background. “JARVIS can feed you the exact coordinates, if you take Steve’s bike you should be here in -”

Three things happen at once, then. There’s a sharp crack, and through the narrow gap in the privacy screen Tony sees the windshield splinter, and the driver jerk. “Sir!” JARVIS says, sharply. “Shit!” Tony yelps, as the car swerves violently to the side. His phone goes flying from his hand, and Tony sprawls helplessly across the seat. Buttercup’s claws dig into his flesh, the cat yowling as they’re tossed about with the momentum. It seems a mere split second later that the car comes to a fiery stop, diving nose first into the side of a building. The sudden stop sends Tony flying across the car, losing his grip on the cat and cracking his head painfully against the edge of the opposite seat. His vision whites out with pain, and he’s distantly aware of Bucky’s voice, tinny and faint from wherever his phone has landed. Blood spreads in a warm, wet trail down the side of his face and Tony’s stomach rolls ominously. The world spins in a lazy, nauseating swirl of colours around him. He reaches blindly and grabs at the suitcase armour, “B’tt’rcup?” He slurs out, and at this point he’s definitely not questioning the fact he’s thoroughly concussed himself. There’s a shuffle somewhere to his left, and then a quivering, furry body presses against his side. “G’d girl.” Tony mutters, and then turns his attention to the task of rolling over. He needs to get out of the car, get into the armour, and hold out until Bucky can get to him. It sounds easy, in theory, but he feels like he’s on the carousel from hell (ha, that rhymes) and moving is hard. He manages to turn over, and only feels a little like throwing up. Some uncoordinated flailing eventually gets the door open and Tony spills out into the street, the suitcase hitting the pavement next to him with a heavy thump. His vision is doubling and tripling on him, and Tony squints ineffectually against the blur. There are men (a man? Shit, he doesn’t know) approaching, armed to the teeth. Tony slaps at the briefcase, trying to coordinate himself, wanting to curse at how helpless he feels, and also wanting to throw up everything he’s eaten, ever, and sleep for like ten years. “Idiots, they wanted him in one piece.” A voice snarls somewhere above him, and Tony restrains the totally inappropriate urge to giggle. “He’s fine, his eggs just got a little scrambled.” Another voice says, and they’re getting closer and there’s no time. They’re just about on top of him, victory so clear on their faces, when Buttercup launches herself out of the car. The added height, and her not inconsiderable mass, means she hits the first man like the proverbial tonne of bricks. His companions stumble back in shock as the man screams like the holy devil, trying to pry the vicious cat away from his face. Buttercup hangs on, a low, constant snarl vibrating in her chest. 

Tony takes advantage of the distraction, stumbling to his feet, and finally, finally the armour starts to unfold around his limbs. The moment he’s suited, Buttercup shoves away from her victim, claws tearing free from flesh with a violent sound that can be heard even over the man’s screams. His face is a mass of blood, and there’s so much that it’s difficult to tell how much damage has been done. His partners are caught, staring in horrified fascination, and Tony takes one out with a poorly aimed repulsor blast. He’s aiming for the chest, since it’s the biggest part and his vision is wavering worse than when he’s drunk; he misses, and clips the man’s shoulder, sending him spinning sideways. He turns to deal with the third, and Buttercup is already there, climbing the man’s leg while he tries to bat at the demented cat, the gun in his hand forgotten entirely. Tony sways drunkenly, stumbles down to one knee, and can only watch with vague disgust as his cat makes a serious attempt at dismembering a human. The second man has righted himself in the meantime, and looks to be considering how to shoot at Buttercup without hurting his friend. Tony takes the choice out of his hands with a repulsor blast that puts him down properly. Then he drops down to sit against the side of his car, not sure if he’s going to throw up or pass out. Her victim now a whimpering mess, clutching at his face and screaming about his eye, Buttercup trots over to climb into Tony’s armoured lap, whereupon she begins to delicately lick her fur clean. “Terrifyin’.” Tony mumbles, but nonetheless pets carefully at her head with his armoured hand. “But badass. S’good cat.”

Bucky arrives in time to deal with the first three’s backup, trying to sneak up on a barely conscious Tony. He’s well pleased to have faces to punch, particularly after being on the damn phone when Tony’s car crashed. The rest of the team arrives for cleanup, and Clint stares as the two cat-mauled victims are loaded into ambulances with police escort. “I told you,” He declares, sounding immensely satisfied. “Tony’s her kitten.” Bucky snorts at him, but doesn’t disagree. Tony is already loaded onto a gurney, and Bucky has the dubious honour of carrying Buttercup, since the paramedics wouldn’t let her sit on Tony. It seems the cat is willing to call a temporary truce between them, apparently sensing she needs Bucky on side to get her to the hospital with Tony. “She’s out for your title, Nat.” He calls over his shoulder, climbing carefully into the ambulance and settling the cat in his lap. Natasha turns from where she’s surveying the damage to Tony’s car, eyebrow raised. “Murder Queen.” Bucky grins, and has the pleasure of seeing Natasha chuckle softly right before the doors close.

[bike42]

San Juan Islands / Victoria BC - Days 10-12 - Fri-Sun August 23-25, 2019 Kayak Adventure

We arrived at our Sea Quest meeting place at 7:50am and saw a group already gathered there. A group of 4 ladies from Atlanta greeted us, and from there we learned that we’d actually be two groups out on the same adventure. Soon we were joined by a single guy (Rob) and two other couples, and 4 college friends from Texas (including Joe that actually lives in Colorado). At a little after 8am, two vans from Sea Quest arrived, one pulling a trailer with the kayaks.

The respective drivers jumped out and read off the names of their groups: the ladies, one couple and Rob went with Ben, and the rest of us were paired with Jonathan.

Like any new group, we were sizing each other up. When I’m assessing, I generally look for compatibility in skill level (personality assessment is formed during the trip). The guys seemed extremely experienced, but I had serious reservations with the other couple (lack of water shoes and waterproof clothing for starters).

We climbed into our vans with our guides and began our drive to the other side of the island, stopping by the guide house along the way to pick up extra sleeping bags and pads for the couple (along with two other people to shuttle the vans back).

We drove to a county park launch site just north of Lime Kiln State Park. I recognized landmarks from our cycling trip and it felt neat to be so familiar with San Juan island!

Lots of help unloading the vans and getting everything carried to the beach. After waiting so long for this adventure, I think we all were very excited to get going. Most were familiar with the drill, stash your gear in the boat dry wells and start splitting up the common gear and stash that too. The couple however were clearly new to this, and when it came time for Jonathan to have us put on PFDs and spray skirts, then practice getting snapped into our cockpits, she had a panic attack. They had a huddle with Jonathan and decided to back out of the trip. I felt bad for them, but secretly glad as it wouldn’t have been the same trip with completely inexperienced trip mates. They should have somehow been screened out, as this is serious stuff - not uncommon for kayakers to have to be rescued by the Coast Guard out here.

I hadn’t mentioned that as we were gathered in Friday Harbour it started to drizzle. Rain wasn’t really forecast, but we quickly got into our “it is what it is” mode. It wasn’t too cool and we had the gear, so misery factor was very low. The subdued light made it better for searching for Marine life anyway!

We set out and our group was well matched for paddling. Not that it mattered, but as a group we were stronger than Bens group. We headed north along Haro straight with awesome views of Vancouver Island and the Olympic Peninsula beyond that. I had a big grin on my face; it was so exhilarating to finally be doing this (one of the first things I had on my bucket list when I first started actually keeping a written list).

Soon we started seeing salmon (pinks) jumping out of the water all around us. It was fun - better than fireworks! Impossible to not exclaim out loud each time!! I kept hoping we’d see a pod of Orcas come to eat them, but that didn’t happen for us (at least on day one).

We also started seeing Harbor Seals hauled out on rocks along the shore. Sometimes solo, but more often in groups. They had young with them, and Jonathan instilled in us how important it is not to disturb them. Should be common sense, but it is so tempting to get closer and get good photos.

We also saw several sets of Harbor Porpoises, they’d do 4 or 5 shallow dives, then disappear in a deep feeding dive.

After a bit, we stopped along a rocky protected beach to stretch our legs and have a snack. Then back in the boats, still traveling north along the shore. Amazing how big the island is when you’re trying to get around it by kayak.

We alternated between cruising along, with quiet moments of drifting and watching salmon jump, porpoises dive and seals flop around.

Then we had a lot more boat activity as well as developments along shore, and Jonathan told us we’re now just outside Roche Harbor on San Juan Island. We stopped as a small “park” island where there we two campsites (already occupied) and a toilet. From here, we’d cross the Speiden channel and head to our campsite. The sky was clearer, just light clouds and I was warm enough to shed my rain jacket layer by then.

Jonathan explained that part of the reason we were lollygaging earlier was that the timing of our crossing needs to be just right due to tides and currents, and also it seems calm, but wind can whip up fast and take us off course. Exactly the reason we’re out here with a guide!!

We crossed directly over to Spieden island, pointing in a direction opposite of where we wanted to end up, and with the current then, we ended up perfectly. As we were just entering the channel, the ferry to Sidney BC cruised through the channel, looking exceptionally large from our perspective!

Then we cruised the shore of Spieden Island, heading west now. Along the shore we saw many Harbor Seal colonies. We also saw a majestic looking pair of bald eagles high on a tree above a colony (Jonathan said he’d once seen an eagle eating a baby seal, the kind of nature I know has to happen but I’d rather not see!). The island has a large expanse of what looks like dead grass, and all along there we saw Moufflon sheep, apparently having been introduced to the island when someone was trying to establish a hunting camp. Even Jonathan was excited about how many we could see.

From there, we could see the slot of Reed Harbor on Stuart Island, we’d camp at the end of the harbor tonight! I’m not going to lie, when we turned into the harbor and saw how far it was until the end, I felt pretty discouraged! I’d pushed hard to cross the channel and I was exhausted!

The tour to the back of the bay was beautiful. There were a variety of boats moored there, mostly sailboats. Jonathan chatted with the folks on deck as we passed. He and his girl friend live on a sailboat in Friday Harbour and are readying it to sail to Baja Mexico some winter (he actually grew up living on a sailboat in Friday Harbour!).

As we got close to the landing, we passed a swim platform that had a baby seal hauled out in it with two adults swimming around it. We would have loved to see them jump up on it, but we were probably a perceived threat. Jonathan said they come at it super fast and fly out of the water. When they land, they bounce around a bit!

We landed at 6pm. Gorgeous wooded camp site in a state forest. Pit toilet, plenty of firewood, compost bin - good living! We hauled everything out of the boats and set up tents and got our stuff settled while Jonathan set up to make dinner (with JT as sous chef). Dinner was vegetarian burritos and our trip mates from Texas brought along boxes of red wine - heaven! As if it couldn’t be any better, Jonathan lit a fire and we had brownies for dessert!

Blissful night of sleep with the quiet and campfire smoke. Paradise camping!!!

Jonathan said he’d monitor the weather overnight and wake us up “at the crack of dawn” if we needed to move early due to weather.

About 4:45am, we heard music! It was Jonathan playing a guitar and singing “Summertime.” It was wonderful! He promised coffee would be ready by the time we packed up our tent.

The guys were experienced packers and soon we were slugging coffee and hauling the gear back to the beach. The light was amazing, and the view would change with every trip down to the beach. By 7am we were loaded and taking our pre-launch selfie.

Jonathan said there was weather coming about noon, just for an hour, but he suggested we paddle back to Posey Island and set up camp there and then make a proper breakfast! It was a gorgeous morning as we paddled back across the channel, but the clouds were moving in from the West and I agreed this was a good plan.

There were still campers there when we arrived about 9a, but we moved into the site overlooking the channel anyway. We unloaded the boats and Jonathan set about erecting the rain tarp over the tables. It was just a drizzle, yet we were glad when we got the tents set up and our gear stowed. Not quite sure how we lost a few hours there, but we had a fabulous brunch at 11:30 (egg sandwiches with similar ingredients from our burritos last night: fresh tomatoes and avocado, salsa, cheese).

After that, the group decided a nap was in order! We retreated to our tents. I read and napped and heard occasional rain on the tent, happy to be snuggly inside.

When we emerged, it was a different day. Blue skies, abundant sunshine and a nice breeze. We snacked for a bit and watched the seals in the water around the island. One was breaching and slamming down into the water - not sure why but it was like he was performing for us (like the salmon were yesterday!).

Then we headed out for a three hour paddle to the East. We were heading down the channel, views of islands and water to our left - houses and docks on the right. Jonathan heard some chatter about whale sightings over the marine radio, but too far from where we were at! We stopped at a kelp bed and he told us a bit about how various marine life needs it to thrive - and then we ATE some, we really did! It wasn’t bad, and with peanut butter, it was really good!

Paddled back to camp - about 3 hours in the boat and I was cramping up! Sat around chatting, drinking wine and having more snacks ... waiting for dinner. Fresh air and exercise makes me hungry!!!

As we were sitting around chatting, Jonathan came back around the island and pointed out a seal that was sleeping on the rocks just about 10 feet from us. We got up and took photos, and it continued to sleep, occasionally sneezing and loudly yawning. After about 30 minutes, he started moving around a bit more. Rubbing his eyes, scratching himself! The tide was just about reaching him and it was so cool to see him roll around a bit, and then bounce a few times and dive back into the water.

We continued to watch the sunset and wait for dinner (several hour process). At one point I was out on the rocks looking at the last remnant of the sunset and a kayak going by yelled “Orcas!” I thought it was worth checking out. I was halfway down the beach when I heard the characteristic “pffft!” I yelled for the others and continued down the beach. They were traveling fast, but I saw 4 of them as they traveled down the channel - too dark for photos, but a magical end to a great day!

Sunday morning we got a later start. I was up at 6, but it was closer to 7am before Jonathan serenaded us and told us to start “rustling.” We packed up while he made us French toast with blueberries and bananas. Both mornings he also made amazing coffee using a locally roasted blend and a French press.

We set out about 9:15am, cutting through the inside of Henry Island. That route took us across the mouth of Roche Harbor and the power boats and seaplanes were driving me a little bonkers and messing with my mojo! Soon we were back in a channel, and a little out of the chaos. We passed a small rock island that had about a dozen seals hauled out on it, including a mom and a baby. Another baby climbed out of the water and bounced its way up to the mom - so adorable!

At the south end of Henry Island, Jonathan heard via the main radio that there were Orcas just ahead of where we were! We paddled fast, and to the south in the Haro Straight we could just make out the “blows” and a little bit of dorsal fin. We couldn’t tell if they were heading south, or north towards us - but soon they were getting closer! Another guide, Casey was out further with his two guests (ladies also from Texas) and it appeared they were right in the whale’s path - super exciting! We headed south, anticipating the whales would turn in to the head of Henry’s Island and they did! We met up with Casey’s group and rafted our 6 boats together. Jonathan had told us Orcas sometimes think that’s interesting, and it proved to be true. They were all around us, putting on a show! Spy hops (where they just get their head up and look around), full breaches, dorsal slaps, tail flips, they showed us all of their moves. Words can’t describe the joy and delight this brought to us! I tried to take some video and photos, but it was so much better to just enjoy the moment.

I’m not sure how the guides know this, but the Orcas last night supposedly belonged to a “transient” pod, and what we saw today was the “J pod of the Southern Residents.”

We spent an hour with the Orcas, then they moved on to the south. By that time, I was ready to get out of the boat anyway! We paddled north and landed on a beautiful beach where we had lunch and a stretch break.

Since we’d messed around a bit, Jonathan thought we’d be fighting a bit of current and wind as we paddled back to the launch and that was the case! We powered through it, which is better than slogging along. Just before our turn there was a commercial boat harvesting salmon - I say harvesting not fishing because they were hauling in huge nets full. Jonathan was not happy about that. They have a moratorium on salmon fishing for the general public due to the decline in the salmon population (which directly affects the Orca population) but operations like this somehow get permits. Anyway - it’s fun to see a 23 year old so passionate about the cause!

Back to the park where we’d launched about 1:45pm. Warm and sunny, looked a little different than when we left in the rain on Friday. We unloaded our boats and stuffed everything in the trailer. Someone back at the crew office has a lot of clean up to do (Jonathan has a lot of strengths, but cleaning and organizing aren’t among them). We drove back to Friday Harbor with Jonathan talking more about the salmon and the Orca. Two of the Texas guys were science teachers so they always added interesting questions / viewpoints to the conversation!

We said our goodbyes and climbed the hill back to the hotel where we’d left 4 bags Friday morning. Our same clerk was delightful and gave us access to a conference room where we could open and organize all of our bags, clean up a bit and at least change into clean clothes. After that we had 45 minutes until our ferry came, so we hauled our bags to the dock and got a sandwich / latte / smoothie while we waited for our ninth and final ferry of the trip.

This ferry was operated by a private company - the San Juan Clipper, runs between Victoria BC, Friday Harbor and downtown Seattle. The boat wasn’t as nice as some of the state run ferries we’d ridden on, and they were out of chowder and chili, but said they had a few hotdogs left?! Plus it was sold out, so fairly crowded, and a jovial crowd on Sunday evening! We read, napped, snacked. I was glad I had my iPod along as the crowd was just a little too much right then and I needed to chill.