#Stump Removal Largs Bay

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Prairie Days

Originally posted on my website at https://rebeccalexa.com/prairie-days/.

I’m in the middle of my fall peregrinations, currently staying with family in the Missouri Ozarks as my base of operations while I do some exploring of the area, and get up to my preferred flavor of trouble. Which, of course, includes volunteering.

Ozark Rivers Audubon Nature Center

I actually got to do a little back home at Willapa National Wildlife Refuge right before I left town. They’re doing some coast meadow habitat restoration at the South Bay Unit, and so a whole pile of us showed up Wednesday before last to spend a few hours digging up invasive plants cropping up in some patches that had been intentionally planted with natives like early blue violet (Viola adunca), yarrow (Achillea millefolium), and pearly everlasting (Anaphalis margaritacea). I confess I didn’t get any pictures because I was A) pretty preoccupied with the upcoming trip, and B) nothing makes me zone out more than sitting with a trowel digging up weeds for hours at a time. By the time I get back the “nice” weather (aka warm and sunny) will likely be done for the year, but I’m hoping for more opportunities to get back out there.

But that certainly wasn’t the end of my habitat restoration efforts for the month.

For the past couple of years, every time I come into Rolla, MO I stop at the Ozark Rivers Audubon Nature Center to see if they have any upcoming stewardship activities. They’ve done a beautiful job of restoring the remnant tallgrass prairie and oak savanna there and protecting the oak-hickory forest and that surrounds them, but invasive plants being what they are there are always more to be removed as the seed bank keeps new generations popping up.

This time around we were out in the prairie/savanna area with a bunch of folks from the officer training program down at Ft. Leonard Wood just down the highway. The objective was to remove as much of the autumn olive (Elaeagnus umbellata) as possible; this invasive shrub with a silvery underside to its green leaves can quickly shade out native prairie plants, and doesn’t offer local wildlife nearly as much food. Prescribed burns help knock it back, but some more resilient specimens manage to resprout, and of course there’s that pernicious seed bank in the soil.

Autumn olive

Most of these were much too large to simply pull up, so the most effective way to get rid of them was to go out in teams of two. One person uses loppers to cut the plant down as close to the ground as possible, and the other immediately dabs herbicide on the fresh stump, which then kills the roots and keeps the plant from regenerating. It’s a minimal use of the product when compared to spraying wide areas of foliage, and only treating the stump with a quick, targeted dab minimizes the chance of accidentally affecting surrounding native species. And since it doesn’t cause disturbance to the soil like digging would it’s less likely to stir up seeds that would then be even more likely to sprout.

I know herbicides are super controversial–they’re not my favorite thing either. But as I wrote in my chapbook Habitat Restoration: What It Is, Why It’s Important, and How to Get Started, judicious and careful use in habitat restoration is one of the few times I’m okay with it, and it’s about the only way to reliably get rid of some invasive plants permanently. Given that invasive species removal is one of THE best ways to make an ecosystem more resilient in the face of climate change, habitat restoration has to be a big priority now and going forward. While I am not ignorant of the environmental impact of routine overuse of herbicides in agriculture and yards alike, the targeted use of them in habitat restoration is definitely a “lesser of two evils” situation that deserves more nuance.

While autumn olive was the main target, we also managed to remove a few other pernicious invasives. Callery pear (Pyrus calleryana) was easy to spot with its leaves still bright green amid the various browns, golds, and reds of native vegetation. We also got rid of some privet (Ligustrum spp.), and a little Japanese honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica) winding its way through the meadow. While there’s still plenty to go around for the next volunteer crew, we did make a big dent in that area.

New England aster

It wasn’t just the invasive species in evidence, though; there were plenty of native plants to enjoy along the way. One of the most prominent was field goldenrod (Solidago nemoralis nemoralis), and while some had gone to seed others still had a touch of yellow. There was a splash of purple here and there from New England aster (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae), and delicate white snakeroot (Ageratina altissima) edged the treeline. Amid inland oats (Chasmanthium latifolium) and other native grasses, young northern red oaks (Quercus rubra) and white oak (Quercus alba) added splashes of scarlet. It was incredibly peaceful to be immersed in these beautiful species and more.

At a time when it’s all too easy to feel overwhelmed by the enormity of environmental devastation on multiple fronts, there is something empowering about getting my hands in the dirt, so to speak. No, removing some invasive shrubs from one remnant prairie won’t save the whole world. But it helps that ecosystem become more resilient, and gives the native species there a better chance. It also makes that place a better illustration of the grasslands that were much more common in this portion of the Midwest, and is an important reminder that it wasn’t always cornfields and cattle pastures.

Yarrow

On a microcosmic level, I just feel better after spending a few hours doing a little something good in the world. I felt better walking away knowing that native plants like this young yarrow I found beneath an autumn olive we removed will be more likely to thrive in the years ahead. I’ve absorbed some of the beneficial effects of being outside, too, and gotten a good bit of exercise at my own pace. And it’s good social time, too, in a setting that feels pretty darn comfortable, and we’re all united by a common interest in that moment. This is likely my last outdoor volunteer time of the year, but it was a great note to wrap things up on.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

[unfriendlyamazon]

kame valley (stardew au)

currently obsessed with stardew valley again and yes i can make everything about ygo so here's an au i started actually a long time ago

Title: Kame Valley

Characters: All of them, mainly Seto Kaiba

Summary:

When Seto Kaiba is sent to secure Kaiba Corp's foothold in the small farming community that is Kokoro Town. His corporate goal get waylaid again and again, forcing him to get to know the local villagers, and maybe even engage with them once in a while. Rather than changing the valley, Kaiba finds himself being changed.

Spring, Day 1

Seto Kaiba nearly dropped his bags when he saw where he was staying for the next three weeks. Behind him, Mayor Pegasus seemed oblivious to his growing concern.

Seto’s voice strained when he said, “This is it?”

This was it. The old cabin had seen better days, the wood planks that made up its walls old and peeling. The red shingles of the roof threatened to slide right off. One morose window gazed out onto the small porch, and a lantern was hung over the wind beaten door. It had already been a hike from the one entrance into town, blocked partially by the broken down bus, down a dirt road, and now onto what looked to be a fair sized plot of land. Seto’s gaze swept over the rock ridden dirt. Trees rose up like their own little forest, and stumps were left at attempts to keep them at bay.

Seto breathed out through his teeth. It’d been a day of good omens.

“Unfortunately,” Mayor Pegasus said, singing every other syllable, “accommodations are somewhat limited in Kokoro Town. But the farm’s been unused for years, and everything still works. You’ll be very comfortable here.”

Seto looked at the mayor, whose attitude and style would kindly be described as “eccentric”. Silver hair fanned around his face, covering his left eye, and he wore a clean pink shirt and slacks. Seto had not spoken to him directly until he greeted him ten minutes ago, and already he was desperate to remove himself from his company. He was desperate to remove himself from this town. But Kokoro Town was the foot in the door to the entirety of Kame Valley that Kaiba Corp needed, especially if they were going to keep expanding out. The PR boost would help too. One small town transformed into a thriving marketplace thanks to Kaiba Corp. Noah had visited his office and told Seto that he was the one he needed to rely on to get this done. Seto had been suspicious, but now he knew for sure. Noah was torturing him.

Three weeks, he told himself. Then it’s back to Domino City, where they have hotels and paved streets and electricity.

“It’s fine,” he said, mostly to himself. “I’ll be spending most of my time at the Kaiba Mart anyway, which is…”

The mayor rifled through his pockets before providing a small printed map. “On the other side of town, I’m afraid. You’re lucky you’re here in the spring. It’ll be a brisk walk in the morning.”

“Walk?” he repeated and unfolded the map. Ra, they weren’t even large enough to justify driving. He wasn’t far from town center, but the mart was on the other side of even that, crossing a river to the furthest east it could be from where he was now. Seto didn’t consider himself an inactive person, but every day? Everywhere? He’d packed nothing but his clean business loafers and work clothes. His black shoes were already coated in a fine layer of dust.

“You’ll get used to it in time,” Pegasus said.

Seto hoped he wouldn’t have to. His fear that the inside of the cabin was worse than the outside was only mollified some by the presence of the nicely crafted furniture and small television set. The fireplace was warmed, suggesting someone had bothered to inspect the place before his arrival. He let his bags drop on the ground and side eyed the sheets on the bed that was pushed against the wall. At least it wasn’t a twin. The single room didn’t offer much by way of amenities, not even a kitchen, which wasn’t so much of a loss. It wasn’t as if he cooked.

“It’s homey,” he said, in a way that was not a compliment.

“I’ll give Mr. Muto your regards,” the mayor said. “It’s his property. He’s too old to tend it now, and his grandson tries. He’s quite the fan of yours.”

His ridiculous drawl made it hard to tell if that was sarcasm or not, but Seto banked on caution. Kaiba Corp didn’t make many friends, and the nicely detailed report spelled out Kokoro Town’s resistance to any expansion here. It would worry him, if it mattered.

“And any adjustments that need to be made,” Pegasus continued, “the Ishtars are happy to provide. I should organize a meeting with all the business leaders for you.”

“I’m sure it won’t be necessary,” Seto said. He didn’t want to know what passed for a ‘business leader’ in this town. “I should check in with Kaiba Mart.”

“Of course,” the mayor sang. “And allow me to take you on a wonderful tour of our town as we go.”

Seto held in his groan as he followed him from the dirt path of the farm into town proper. Kokoro’s town center, at least, was paved with businesses huddled around the square. The buildings were unpatterned in their placement, with a medical clinic and general store sloped against each other, and a short ways away a spot whose sign read “Mr. Clown’s Saloon”. The rest were homes, including the mayor’s house, a little larger than the others with a full garden decorating the front. Pegasus pointed out a short path that led to the mountains, and a stone bridge that crossed to the beach. Two rivers crossed here, and the smooth current was alive with fish who snapped at the surface.

Seto didn’t bother to listen as Pegasus pointed out whose home belonged to who or go into a detailed history of every building. He didn’t bother to acknowledge the people that the mayor said good morning to. He removed his phone instead and went to message his brother and frowned when he noticed his inbox was empty. Mokuba usually sent him twenty texts before nine, but there was nothing since last night. He swiped over to his email, which only boasted a handful of unread emails. A sense of dread crept over him as he tried to refresh, only to get a spinning icon that rang with false promise.

With dawning horror, Seto said, “There’s no signal out here.”

Pegasus trailed off mid-sentence as he turned around to look at him. He noted the very expensive brick in Seto’s hands.

“Oh, no,” he said, as an afterthought. “There’s no towers for miles. I’m told in the mountains there’s more luck, but we still use the landlines around here.”

Seto stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid so.” He let out a sigh. “Your office must have some work around, I’m sure. For now you’ll have to enjoy our rustic hospitality.”

He kept walking, crossing the short bridge over the river to where the Kaiba Mart sat, and Seto had no choice but to follow after. He clutched his phone in his hand like an injured baby bird in hopes that it would come alive again.

The Kaiba Mart sat in stark contrast to the picturesque nature around them. It’s white and blue walls were modern and clean, and its windowless exterior made it seem like an alien obelisk left behind. They crossed through the sliding doors, and at once the natural sounds of wind rustling through trees and the babbling of the brook and tweeting of birds were replaced with tinny elevator music and the hum of AC. Rows of shelving sat neatly with the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. A bored looking girl sat at the register while a handful of employees restocked. It was practically busy compared to the rest of town, with people shopping up and down the aisles. Across from the registers was a customer service desk where a man stood to attention, making their way to them.

“I believe you’re in your world now, Kaiba-boy,” Pegasus said. “If there’s anything else I can do for you, I’m never hard to find.”

He ambled away before Seto could protest the sudden familiar nickname, and he was quickly accosted by the manager, who offered a thorough handshake he was forced to escape from. His suit and clean cut hair was closer to the Kaiba Corp goons he was used to dealing with. Seto tried to remember his name from the file and was saved the hassle.

“My name is Roland, sir,” he said. “I’m grateful for the chance to assist you.”

“Right.” Seto didn’t bother introducing himself. He glanced around the grocers and didn’t miss the interest a few employees were paying him. “I assume there’s an office I can set up in.”

“Of course. Right away.”

The back of the Kaiba Mart was roomier than expected, which Seto was grateful for. The employee area was clean and empty, a small TV next to a table playing the weather report. Roland’s office had a single window to look out at any slackers and free of any personal items except for a single kitschy palm tree from the Kuriboh Desert. The rest was storage, and then a room that had been cleaned out and outfitted with a desk and the usual Kaiba Mart motivational posters and metal shelves with binders and blueprints. A stark white light illuminated the space. It smelled faintly of bleach. Seto left the door open for fear it was not as well ventilated as it appeared.

Seto knew going in that there was a plan in place. A small version of KC’s headquarters would be built on land in Kokoro Town, which would open up all of the valley to expansion. Apparently finding the land to build on was the first roadblock. The woods were protected, the mountains deemed unsafe, and there was a full envelope of angry letters from one Solomon Muto in which he expressed with certainty that his farm was not for sale. The only viable property was an abandoned community center, which had a lot of legal red tape around it. Still, Kaiba Corp’s lawyers were fastidious and their pockets bottomless. Roland explained in excruciating detail the issues they’d faced in securing even a construction site, and Seto only stopped him when he got to the biggest sticking point.

“What the hell do you mean by ‘community leadership support’?” he asked.

Roland pointed to the legal papers amid the many files. “Because it’s the property of the town, Kaiba Corp can’t just purchase it. There are five community leaders that need to vote in order for them to give the property over to us. And right now only the mayor is giving us his support.”

Seto narrowed his eyes a the papers in front of him as though they were hiding their secrets. “So in order to get this entire project started, we need to convince four other people that letting Kaiba Corp into their town is a good idea. How do we do that?”

“I think,” he said nervously, “that’s why you’re here.”

Seto continued to focus his gaze on the items in front of him, even as weight pressed down on his chest. This hadn’t been in that nicely detailed file, which meant Noah wanted it to be a surprise. He sent him here, this remote town with no contact to the outside world, in order to play nice with a bunch of country hicks who managed to own enough property to be a thorn in his side. Seto prided himself on a lot of things--his work ethic, his bullheadedness, his ability to get things done--but his people skills had never been his strong suit. His usual methods of brute force and intimidation might not be the appropriate move here.

He sunk his head into his hands. “There has to be some loophole.”

“I’m afraid not,” Roland said.

“Then there has to be another town,” Seto groaned. “One with bribable officials.”

“This is the only foot in the door Kaiba Corp has ever managed.”

“Fantastic.”

Of course, Noah had chosen him for this job. All he had to do was make some friends.

[ruiniel]

What of their life in Ossiriand?

Ever since

(snippet)

Through the calls of birds, the cawing of ravens, and the pawing of beasts, she hears other sounds, disturbances foreign to these parts until recently: the clink of steel and ring of chainmaille, the soar of words woven in foreign tongues, unfamiliar in their musicality. She smiles, taken with the lilt of it. Some of the Golodhrim had retreated here after their last crushing defeat, and so settled among her people.

A crippled society they are and bereaved of lands, but the legacy they wrought had irreparably marked them. And if there’s one trait she learned the Deep Elves possess, it is pride, streaked with honor like veins of gold trapped in unyielding rock. They seemed distant and aloof at first, before she learned their demeanor reflected their grief.

Collaboration with the clans dwelling in Ossiriand had come naturally, for the Golodhrim have great skill in the craft of metal and stonework, and their swords helped keep the increasing aggression of the Enemy at bay with a viciousness that would have been disconcerting, were it not so needed in the circumstances.

She nears the wooded space leading to a clearing near the river Thalos and follows the path to a remote area on the north side. There is a tent, deftly built by swift hands, a circle of blackened stones that guards old ashes, and artfully cut stumps of trees crafted into seats around the fire area.

She passes the armed guards, for after all, she is one of the known assigned guides to the High Elves from her community. Looking ahead to the more populated space of the temporary settlement, she sees spent folk retiring to their own tents, or some speaking to the guards assigned watch on the nightly shift. Others are sharpening weapons or drinking by their campfires.

They had not seen her. If the Golodhrim shine with exalted might, her people master nature’s shadows and upon concealing themselves can only be found if they wish it. Moriquendi they call them: elves of darkness, ones not having basked in the light of the West. A light that meant little to her, until sharp, grey eyes reflected its radiance.

Reminded of her goal, she steps forward, closer to the stones, and sees the place is currently empty of its occupant. She raises her gaze at a sudden stir and bustle, and turns her head to see a group emerging from the forest on the opposite side of the clearing. They are armed with bow, arrow and knife, and large game is slung over their shoulders; the day’s hunt gone late, it appears. Her eyes catch one of them in particular, and her knees go weak as she watches him relinquish a deer to others in wait, assigned to plan the provisions and the meals.

His hair is tied back from his face in a long, messy braid, and steadily he treads over to where she stands, waiting and watching and shaking from the unruly elation in her chest.

He stops before her, tall and wiry. Rebel strands of auburn frame a face that is both harsh and beautiful. The dust of the hunt clings to him, and his hand is dried with blood, as are the shoulders of his faded over-tunic. He grips the pommel of the hunting dagger resting at his hip, his features shuttered. A ruse, proven by the depth of his stare and the roughness of his voice when he speaks her name.

“Seleth,” he greets with a nod, then busies himself with removing his belt and setting his weapon aside to clean and sharpen later.

He is short of words save for a few precious occasions she remembers, yet different to her first encounters, when loss was the only emotion engraved in the deep scarring of his face. She follows the pale traces of past torment he’s not shared, distantly wondering if he ever will.

“What brings you here?” the Golodhrim prince asks in an even tone as he pulls his soiled tunic over his head.

“You.” It always takes time with him, but bluntness has always worked best between them, whether as allies or the uncertain friends they’ve become.

[batemansbaytreeremoval]

Why Timely Emergency Tree Services Are Crucial for Batemans Bay Residents? 

In the tranquil coastal town of Batemans Bay, residents are accustomed to the serenity of nature intertwined with their daily lives. However, amidst the beauty of towering trees that grace the landscape, there lies an unseen risk: the potential for emergencies caused by trees. Whether it's due to storms, disease, or old age, trees can sometimes pose unexpected dangers to property and lives. This is where Emergency Tree Services Batemans Bay become not just crucial but lifesaving. 

What is meant by Tree Services? 

Tree services refer to professional services provided to care for and manage trees in various environments, such as residential yards, public parks, and commercial properties. These services are essential for maintaining the health, safety, and aesthetics of trees. Tree service professionals, often called arborists, are trained in tree biology and equipped with the necessary tools to handle a variety of tasks, from routine maintenance to emergency interventions. Proper tree care can prevent property damage, ensure the safety of people and structures, and enhance the visual appeal of landscapes. 

There are several types of tree services that cater to different needs. Pruning and trimming involve cutting away dead or overgrown branches to promote healthy growth and improve a tree's shape and structure. Tree removal is necessary when a tree is dead, diseased, or poses a risk to property or safety. Stump grinding removes the remaining stump after a tree has been cut down, preventing tripping hazards and making the area ready for new planting. Other services include tree planting, which involves selecting and planting suitable tree species, and tree health assessments, where arborists diagnose and treat tree diseases and pest infestations. Emergency tree services are also available for urgent situations, such as when a tree falls during a storm. These varied services ensure that trees are well-maintained and safe, contributing positively to the environment and community. 

Understanding the Urgency of Emergency Tree Services 

Recent incidents across New South Wales have highlighted the necessity for prompt emergency tree services. From fallen branches blocking roads during storms to trees dangerously leaning towards homes, the need for immediate professional intervention cannot be overstated. Imagine returning home after a windy day only to find a large branch precariously dangling above your driveway. Such scenarios underscore the importance of having a reliable emergency tree service provider like Batemans Bay Tree Removals on speed dial. 

The Risks of Delayed Response 

Time is of the essence in handling tree emergencies. A seemingly stable tree with internal decay can unexpectedly collapse, causing extensive damage or injury. Delaying action can escalate risks and lead to higher costs in terms of property damage and potential insurance claims. By addressing tree emergencies promptly, residents of Batemans Bay can mitigate these risks and ensure the safety of their homes and neighborhoods. 

Services Offered by Batemans Bay Tree Removals 

Batemans Bay Tree Removals specializes in providing comprehensive emergency tree services tailored to the specific needs of Batemans Bay residents. Whether it's emergency tree removal, storm damage cleanup, or preventive tree assessments, their team of certified arborists and tree surgeons are equipped with the expertise and tools necessary to handle any tree-related crisis swiftly and efficiently. 

Why Choose Batemans Bay Tree Removals? 

When it comes to emergency tree services, expertise and reliability are paramount. Batemans Bay Tree Removals boasts years of experience serving the Batemans Bay community with a commitment to safety and customer satisfaction. Their prompt response times and 24/7 availability ensure that residents never have to face tree emergencies alone. By choosing Batemans Bay Tree Removals, you're choosing peace of mind and a proactive approach to tree care. 

Conclusion 

In conclusion, for residents of Batemans Bay, understanding the importance of timely emergency tree services can make all the difference in safeguarding lives and property. By entrusting the care of your trees to professionals like Batemans Bay Tree Removals, you not only ensure immediate solutions to tree emergencies but also contribute to the overall safety and beauty of your community. 

For more information on Emergency Tree Services Batemans Bay or to schedule a consultation, visit Batemans Bay Tree Removals at https://batemansbaytreeremovals.com.au/. Don't wait until it's too late—act now and secure your peace of mind with expert tree care services. 

[caterstreecare]

Top 10 Trusted Tree Removal Service Providers in Ballina

Top 10 Trusted Tree Removal Service Providers in Ballina

Ballina, nestled in Northern NSW, is renowned for its stunning landscapes and abundant greenery. Maintaining these landscapes often requires the expertise of professional tree removal services. Whether it's for safety, aesthetics, or property management, choosing the right service is essential. Here’s a guide to the top 10 trusted tree removal service providers in Ballina, with Caters Tree Care leading the pack for their exceptional service and expertise.

1. Caters Tree Care

Caters Tree Care stands out as the premier provider of comprehensive tree removal services in Ballina.

Why Choose Caters Tree Care?

Expertise: With years of industry experience, their certified arborists handle everything from small tree removals to large, complex projects with precision.

Safety: They prioritize safety, using state-of-the-art equipment to ensure every tree removal is performed efficiently and securely.

Customer Satisfaction: Known for their outstanding customer service, Caters Tree Care tailors their approach to meet each client’s specific needs.

Environmental Responsibility: Committed to eco-friendly practices, they recycle wood waste into mulch and other useful materials.

For the best tree removal services in Ballina, contact Caters Tree Care today.

2. Northern Rivers Tree Services

Northern Rivers Tree Services offers professional tree removal, pruning, and maintenance. Their experienced team ensures safe and efficient services, making them a reliable choice for Ballina residents.

3. Tree Lopping Ballina

Tree Lopping Ballina specializes in tree lopping and removal, providing quick and effective solutions for all tree-related issues. Their skilled arborists are equipped to handle both residential and commercial projects.

4. Arbor Pro Australia

Arbor Pro Australia delivers high-quality tree removal services with a focus on safety and customer satisfaction. Their knowledgeable staff and modern equipment make them a top contender in Ballina.

5. Ballina Tree Services

Ballina Tree Services is well-established and known for their comprehensive tree care solutions. They offer everything from emergency tree removal to routine maintenance, ensuring your property remains safe and beautiful.

6. Tree Wise Men

Tree Wise Men combine expertise with exceptional customer service to provide reliable tree removal and maintenance. Their environmentally conscious approach sets them apart in the industry.

7. Byron Bay Tree Services

Byron Bay Tree Services extends their excellent tree removal services to the Ballina area. With a strong reputation for professionalism and efficiency, they are a preferred choice for many homeowners.

8. Coastal Tree Services

Coastal Tree Services offers a range of tree care services, including removal, pruning, and stump grinding. Their commitment to safety and customer satisfaction makes them a trusted name in Ballina.

9. Treescape Tree Services

Treescape Tree Services specializes in safe and efficient tree removal, catering to both residential and commercial properties. Their experienced team and advanced equipment ensure high-quality results.

10. Green Leaf Tree Services

Green Leaf Tree Services is dedicated to providing top-tier tree removal and care. Their professional arborists and comprehensive services make them a reliable option for any tree-related needs in Ballina.

Conclusion

Choosing the right tree removal service in Ballina is vital for maintaining the safety and beauty of your property. While all the providers listed offer excellent services, Caters Tree Care stands out for their unmatched expertise, commitment to customer satisfaction, and environmentally friendly practices. For all your tree removal needs, trust Caters Tree Care to deliver the best service in Ballina. Contact them today to ensure your landscape is in expert hands.

[treeremovalpensacola]

Gachina Landscape Management finds a unique solution for challenging properties

If you're in the Pensacola area, then you have probably already experienced the need for having to remove a tree or stump or getting your tree's trimmed. The cost of tree removal varies depending on a few factors, such as: - The type of tree that needs to be removed - The size of the tree - The location of the tree - The condition of the tree Pensacola Tree Removal offers competitive pricing for our tree removal services. For a full list of services Tree removal services visit Tree removal service in Pensacola for a fast, friendly and reliable quote that you can count on. This will help not only beautify your property but also is the safest way to do it. Gachina Landscape Maintenance uses goats to help manage vegetation on properties with steep slopes. (Photo: Gachina Landscape Management) Vegetation management crews often face somewhat tough terrain. Gachina Landscape Management, No. 81 on the 2023 LM150 list, found a unique and sustainable way to manage properties — goats. These four-legged landscapers were the brainchild of Lauren Galanes, Gachina’s San Francisco branch manager. The company has deployed goats as part of a sustainable vegetative management strategy since 2018 on a large property in San Francisco. “At the time we were using chippers to remove a lot of the debris and excessive green waste on site, (and) there were complaints about noise and dust from employees,” Galanes says. Additionally, steep inclines posed safety concerns for the crew, and using equipment in the dry brush posed fire risks. Release the goats Gachina works with three Bay Area companies to deploy the four-legged vegetation management crews. Gachina and the companies work together to determine how big of a herd each property needs. The goat vegetation management companies and their herders work with the team from Gachina to fence off the area, bring in the goats and herd dogs, and move the goats around the property to ensure the herd effectively clears out all excess vegetation. “Goats are extremely adept at navigating steep terrain,” she says. “The sheer size of the campus also impacted how much physical labor we could get done with our crews daily, while goats move in large herds very quickly. They will eat a wide variety of plants (weeds, brush, grass and invasive plants), clearing overgrown areas (hillsides, forests and utility rights-of-way) and eating invasive weeds.” Galanes also says the goats help add fire breaks — strips of land cleared of vegetation — to stop wildfires. Once the goats finish a portion of the property, Gachina’s crews overseed the area with native grasses and add pollinators, which thrive on the newly fertilized land — thanks to goat droppings. Happy clients Galanes says this approach to vegetation management fits well with clients who have strong sustainability initiatives. She says the feedback has been positive. “One of our clients really enjoys having the goats on campus — part of their goal as a company is to improve the quality of work life for their employees,” she says. “Having goats on campus is relaxing for the employees — uplifting during the work day. We have had them say ‘everybody loves your goats, having them here makes our people happier.’” Cristina Prevarin, plant health care and regenerative landscapes manager for Gachina, says the company also deploys barn owl nest boxes for small rodent control in a large HOA. For fellow landscape companies looking for alternative vegetation management, Prevarin says using goats is a viable option. “It’s much easier to coordinate than one may think,” she says. “The companies that we work with are professional, reliable and insured. Often clients are not aware that this is even an option. Many are happy to hear about this natural alternative.” The post Gachina Landscape Management finds a unique solution for challenging properties first appeared on Landscape Management.

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 14

The patrol hurried through the forest, quiet as mice. Stoneheart felt a sense of joy flooding his pelt as he ran beside Mistyfoot and Crowpaw, feeling their muscles flex in time with one another like they had on the journey. Sandstorm led the way, her tail up confidently, always a stride ahead. Onewhisker, though thinned by hunger, was still just as fast as any other WindClan cat, and Swiftfoot seemed propelled by determination alone, his eyes burning. Wolftooth ran beside them, his thick fur streaming in the wind, while Falcontail took up the rear, bounding through the forest with sure paws.

It did not take long before the patrol left the safety of the trees. The transition from undergrowth and the shelter of the leaves was jarring – suddenly the world was clear and barren, littered with stumps and broken trees, with weak leaf-fall sunlight beating down without restraint. With no trees, the forest looked like a cat shaved of their fur – every pit, hill, or stone... all of it was suddenly starkly exposed.

Stoneheart had to force down a wave of emotion. Though he was ShadowClan, he knew this land, too. He’d grown up here, hunted and played and learned here... and now it was all gone. He could barely recognize ThunderClan’s hunting trails, even as they passed over several on their way.

It took Stoneheart too long to recognize the training hollow without the oaks and ferns that had encircled it. Now, it was just a sandy spot in a sea of nothing. It didn’t even smell like ThunderClan territory anymore.

“Don’t look too hard,” Mistyfoot huffed. Stoneheart could see that his sister was in just as much pain, if not more, as they leaped the dry streambed outside the training hollow. “We’ve already said our good-byes.”

Stoneheart nodded in understanding, pushing himself to move faster. Dawn had passed, now, and the sun was rising through the pale blue sky. The roar of monsters was in full swing, but from the sounds of them they were further away – Stoneheart prayed to StarClan, hoping his warrior ancestors would do all they could to keep those beasts at bay.

Soon enough, Sandstorm called the patrol to a halt with a quick signal from her tail. Snakerocks rose up ahead – or what remained of them. Stoneheart was both grateful and sad that such an important place had been shuffled about and destroyed, the jumble of rocks rearranged to remove the natural caves that they had made. As the patrol fanned out, keeping themselves low, though, Stoneheart’s gaze focused on something far more important.

There was a structure in the center of Snakerocks, not unlike a Twoleg den – it was longer than the dens that were in the Twolegplace, and thinner besides; a big, boxy shape that reflected the sunlight strangely. There were some tiny windows on the long sides, but from this distance Stoneheart could not see what was inside. The rectangular door stood open, though, and a few Twolegs dressed in white fabric were milling in and out. There was a monster, but it was silent – a strange creature, big and boxy, too, with a glossy white pelt. It’s back was open, and the inside was like a cave.

“It looks quiet,” Onewhisker murmured, neck craned above the drying grass for a good look. “Crowpaw?”

“I only see two Twolegs,” the WindClan apprentice reported. “And inside that den... I see shiny things.”

“Are they boxy?” Wolftooth asked. “Are there cats inside them?”

“It’s hard to tell,” Crowpaw answered. “But the Twolegs are messing with them.”

Stoneheart’s heart was thudding in his ears, and he sank his claws into the earth with anticipation. Branch, you had better be right!

“What do we do?” Falcontail asked, pulling forward to Sandstorm’s side.

Before Sandstorm could answer, there was movement in the den – one of the white-clad Twolegs had emerged, carrying with them a large box made of shiny webbing, like some Twoleg fences that Stoneheart had seen on the journey. Inside that box...

“Brightheart!” Stoneheart had to put himself in front of Swiftfoot to stop the ThunderClan tom from lunging forward. Stoneheart felt Swiftfoot’s claws digging into his pelt as he forced the black-and-white tom back.

“That answers that question,” Onewhisker muttered, hunkering down even more, wary of the Twoleg’s sight. Even a WindClan cat must feel exposed here, Stoneheart guessed. “This must be where the missing cats are.”

Stoneheart felt Swiftfoot’s heartbeat increase as Brightheart’s cage was put into the cavernous monster. The white-pelted Twoleg lingered for a moment, making noises, but soon enough turned away to return to the den. Another Twoleg with another cage passed him, but Stoneheart did not recognize the golden cat inside – they did not seem happy, though.

Recalling what Branch had said, Stoneheart came to a terrifying realization – The Twolegs are taking them to Twolegplace!

“We need to go,” Swiftfoot growled, pushing against Stoneheart with shocking strength. “Sandstorm!”

Sandstorm’s ear twitched. “I know,” she hissed at her Clanmate. She turned her green gaze back to the scene before her, clearly thinking. “I have no idea how many cats are in that den – we'll need to work fast. Onewhisker – you, Mistyfoot, Crowpaw, and I will distract the Twolegs. Wolftooth, I need you to lead the others in breaking free the cats. Can you do that?”

Wolftooth drew forward, narrowing his eyes at the cages. “I think I’ve seen these sorts of cages before,” he meowed. He looked to Sandstorm, his eyes flashing with determination. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Good,” Sandstorm mewed. She looked back at the patrol, and meowed, “There’s every chance that as soon as we begin, the Twolegs will call for a backup patrol. We can’t be caught – rescue every cat you can, and waste no time. Understood?”

Every cat nodded.  

“What if we can’t get them all?” Onewhisker wondered, a tremor in his voice.

Sandstorm’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not an option.”

Sandstorm raised her tail again, and Stoneheart stepped away from Swiftfoot to take his place in the line. Heart thudding in his ears, his eyes focused on the Twolegs crossing in and out of the den, he barely heard Sandstorm’s signal over straining every sense to see if Rowanclaw was in any of those cages.

“Now!”

The group surged forward – Sandstorm and Mistyfoot broke off immediately, heading for the Twoleg putting the golden cat's cage inside the monster. Onewhisker and Crowpaw rushed for the door of the den, yowling in unison and frightening the emerging Twoleg so much that they dropped the cage they were carrying – it bounced against the dirt, unlatching itself and releasing the cat inside. The Twoleg stumbled, taking off after the two WindClan cats.

“Cloudtail!” Swiftfoot yowled.

The thick-furred she-cat had to take a moment to shake out her fur and regain her paws. “Swiftfoot?” she meowed, starry-eyed at her mate. “Is that really you? What’s happening?”

“There’s no time,” Wolftooth growled. He lashed his tail at the den. “We need to get everyone out!”

Stoneheart barely heard anything else – he was already inside the den, claws skidding against the hard floor. On each wall were cages upon cages, stacked one atop the other. The sight of so many shiny lines dazzled Stoneheart’s eyes for a moment, but soon enough he could tell that, thankfully, not every cage contained a cat.

The scents inside the narrow space were overwhelming – he could barely tell what was cat or what was Twoleg, and the commotion outside had the cats inside yowling all at once:

“Get us out of here!”

“Help!”

“I want to go home!”

One voice pierced through all the others, though, stabbing into Stoneheart’s very core:

“Stoneheart!”

Rowanclaw!

The dark ginger tom was pressed against a cage in the middle row, one of his paws extended as if to wave. Stoneheart was below him immediately, and wasted no time climbing the cages to look his mate in the eye after so, so long. He balanced himself on the thin wooden ledge between each layer of cats, pressing his muzzle in between the shiny webs to touch noses with Rowanclaw.

“You came,” Rowanclaw whispered, eyes round and shining with emotion. “I prayed to StarClan every night that you would...”

“I’m here,” Stoneheart breathed. For a long moment, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Rowanclaw – he looked unharmed, and smelled fed, even if that food was Twoleg pellets. He breathed in Rowanclaw’s scent and immediately felt himself relax. Everything would be okay, so long as he could get Rowanclaw out.

“Move, lovebird!”

Stoneheart felt Wolftooth’s body force its way up next to him. Stoneheart edged backwards, suddenly aware of the rest of the patrol gathering up on the floor. Each looked up with wide, curious eyes as Wolftooth stared at the latch holding Rowanclaw’s cage shut.

“I’ve tried,” Rowanclaw sighed, “but I can’t open it from the inside.”

Wolftooth nodded. “It’s all right,” he breathed, “I can do this.”

Stoneheart watched as Wolftooth opened his jaws as wide as they could go. Carefully, he placed his teeth inside strange looking loops positioned over the latch – when he clenched his jaw and pulled, the door sprang free, nearly hitting Stoneheart in the face.

Rowanclaw leaped out, purring, and Stoneheart sprang down to meet him. He butted his head against his mate as soon as his paws hit solid ground, rubbing his cheek against Rowanclaw’s furiously. For a moment, this was all that mattered – but the situation they were in reared its head quickly:

“Get moving!” Wolftooth shouted. “Get them all out – and be careful, you could break a tooth doing this!”

The other cats spread out and, reluctantly, Stoneheart had to part from Rowanclaw. He crossed over to a sleek black cat, stretching his jaws wide to pop the latch and let him out. The black cat gave no thanks, speeding out without a word. Stoneheart sighed, and moved on.

“There’s Robinwing!” called Swiftfoot, popping the WindClan she-cat free.

Some of the cats that were freed stayed to help others, but soon enough the den was empty but for the Clan cats – Stoneheart's jaws ached from pinching so many latches, and he scanned the cages. “Where’s Tawnypelt?” he asked, looking to Rowanclaw and Robinwing.

“I don’t know,” Robinwing admitted.

Rowanclaw frowned. “I think they took her out first!”

“I thought Brightheart was the first!” Cloudtail wailed, her eyes wide.

Swiftfoot did not wait – he plunged through the crowd, muscles flexing. Stoneheart followed him outside, feeling the hot breath of the others on his hind legs. The monster outside had roared to life – one of the Twolegs had escaped from the distracting patrol and was inside, trying to get his beast to move. The other Twoleg was still struggling, Crowpaw and Onewhisker clinging stubbornly to their legs.

Mistyfoot and Sandstorm were inside the monster, trying to get Brightheart’s cage open. As Stoneheart leaped into the monster, Falcontail and Swiftfoot beside him, he saw that Tawnypelt was trying to get her cage open from the inside, sticking her paws awkwardly through the webbing to no avail.

“Brightheart’s is stuck!” wailed Mistyfoot. “We can’t get it open!”

Swiftfoot wasted no time – he pushed Sandstorm and Mistyfoot aside and set to work, clawing at the latch. Stoneheart didn’t have time to think about how strange it felt to be inside the rumbling monster – he headed for Tawnypelt’s cage.

“Hurry!” the tortoiseshell cried. “The monster!”

Stoneheart’s jaws shook as he clamped down on the latch. He gave a tug, and found it sticking stubbornly. Sore, he pulled back and cried, “Falcontail! Help!”

The dappled tom, who had been keeping watch on the edge of the monster, jolted; but soon he was by Stoneheart’s side. Stoneheart grasped the latch again and, with Falcontail’s help pulling at the door, the two of them managed to pull it open – Stoneheart fell onto his back, dazed and breathless and feeling as if his jaw had been broken.

If my teeth don’t fall out after this, I’ll be shocked!

The monster gave a sharp jolt, and Brightheart let out a wail of panic. Stoneheart tried to get to his paws, but the monster lurched. To his horror, he saw the land outside start to move. His heart leapt into his throat: The monster is trying to run!

With a frustrated snarl, Swiftfoot switched tactics – instead of trying the latch, he whirled around the cage and slammed his shoulder into it. Seeing what he was trying to do, Mistyfoot joined him – together, with a few shoves, they managed to push Brightheart’s cage – and themselves – out of the monster and onto the ground. Brightheart’s cage broke open like Cloudtail’s, and the ginger-and-white she-cat sprang free on shaking legs.

“Run!” Sandstorm yowled.

The monster was chugging now. Stoneheart dug his claws into the interior, watching as, slowly, the cats he’d rescued were being left behind. For a moment, he was terrified of jumping out – then he locked eyes with Rowanclaw, and saw how terrified his mate was.

I am never leaving you again!

Stoneheart leaped, landing awkwardly on the ground and stumbling onto his side. He got up, though, huffing dust and monster stink. He looked back. The monster was still crawling along the earth, slow like a beetle, but Tawnypelt, Sandstorm, and Falcontail were still inside!

“Jump!” cried Mistyfoot. “Sandstorm, jump!”

“Come on!” howled Robinwing.

Brightheart was shaking as she screeched, “Go, go!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Stoneheart saw the second Twoleg finally break free of Crowpaw and Onewhisker. The two WindClan cats were breathless, hunger sapping their strength – they couldn’t give chase as the Twoleg sprinted after the monster, wailing and waving their paws.

Stoneheart saw Sandstorm’s mouth moving, but couldn’t hear what the ThunderClan deputy was saying. The running Twoleg was getting closer and closer to the cavern inside the monster, clearly aiming to jump inside. Falcontail was bristling, and Tawnypelt opened her jaws, too, as if in argument.

The Twoleg crossed in front of the cats, catching up to the monster. When the Twoleg leaped, springing off awkwardly on their two legs, Tawnypelt and Falcontail jumped out of the monster around them. Stoneheart saw a flash of ginger fur – Sandstorm tried to jump, but the Twoleg blocked her with its paws and massive body.

The monster’s doors shut behind them, trapping Sandstorm inside. Bumping along the dusty landscape it, and ThunderClan’s deputy, were soon out of sight.

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

A Joint Effort

One-Shot

Description: Sam and Bucky are hesitant and unhappy to fulfill the task at hand.

Warning: None

Queen @jtargaryen18 reached 4k followers! Congratulations Jamie 🎉🎈💃🏻🎊!! This one-shot is my entry for her 4K celebration writing challenge. Click here to participate!

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I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

"You are Captain America!" Bucky exclaimed. 

"And you are the Winter Soldier!" Sam retorted.

"I was the Winter Soldier! Am not anymore and you know that!" hissed Bucky. 

Sam raised his hands, "I did it last time. I am not going to do it again."

"Sam please," Bucky tried to plead with him, "Please don't make me do this. I was tortured by Hydra for decades."

"So? Dude you wrecked my car!" Sam argued aggressively.

"That was one time! ONE TIME!" Bucky raised a finger, "And my mind was being controlled." 

"Whatever man. You gotta do it," Sam pushed the tools towards Bucky.

He whimpered, "She won't talk to me if I do that to her! Remember last year, when it was your turn? She didn't even look at you for 3 months after that! What if my baby decides to hate me now?" wondered Bucky with a slight pout.

Sam folded his hands in resolution, "Then she will join the long list of people who detest you."

As Bucky kept on grumbling, Sam pushed a book towards him. "Look, I don't want to do this either, but we gotta do it for her. That's what the doctor said last time, remember? He said it's supposed to be an annual thing."

"But she hates it," Bucky tried to urge Sam, "She hates it when we do that to her. I mean just look at her right now, she's sleeping so peacefully."

Both the superheros walked towards the door and gazed into the next room, where a beautiful, graceful, furry feline was peacefully sleeping on the couch.

"How am I supposed to wake her up and give her a bath? Especially when it's torturous for her? Sam, that's inhuman," he feebly tried to argue.

Sam almost melted at the thought. Almost. 

Shaking his head, he squared his shoulders and said with determination, "You need to do this. We have to bathe her once every year. That's what the vet said. Now," he placed a book in Bucky's hand, "There are detailed instructions on how to give her a bath, complete with precautionary steps, guidelines and a blueprint of the tower in case she makes a run for it.'

Bucky squinted his eyes at him, "Your plan didn't work last time Sam."

"Of course it did!"

"Sam, the hospital staff thought you had been attacked by a wild animal," Bucky reminded him. 

Sam scoffed, "Not my fault you brought a cat from Wakanda! I mean, why didn't you just get one of your goats?"

"Gerald didn't want to come because Fiona was pregnant. And he had spent his entire life with Fiona and his parents at that farm, so I didn't want to separate him from his family," Bucky replied sincerely. 

Sam's eyes went as wide as teacup saucers. Slowly, he blinked twice and asked him, "Gerald?"

Bucky nodded, "The male goat, or buck, as they are usually called."

"... didn't want to leave Fiona?" Sam repeated slowly.

"Yeah, his wife, who is obviously a female goat, or a doe, as they are called," supplied Bucky as if it was obvious.

Sam still looked bewildered, so Bucky repeated, this time slowly, "Fiona was pregnant. And Gerald had-"

"No no. I heard you the first time," Sam interrupted him, "I was just having a hard time  processing all that information."

Bucky shrugged in response. Then an idea popped into his head, "I really miss Gerald these days. He was such a nice goat you know? All he ever-"

"Oh hell no! You are not going to emotionally blackmail me with your steel blue puppy eyes!" Sam exclaimed as Bucky gave up in defeat.

"Okay how about this? We do it together. I will lure her in with snacks, and lock the door. You prepare the tub and wash her while I hold her back and keep feeding her treats," suggested Bucky, "What do you think?"

Sam pondered for a moment, "Yeah okay. That could work."

Over the next hour, both the superheros bent over the book, outlining the new plan and jotting down the course of action.

Finally when they were ready, Bucky gently woke up Mrs Marshmallow. The white, soft and adorable feline opened her large eyes and yawned at him, looking a bit disgruntled to have been awoken from her sleep. But as soon as Bucky kept her favorite treats in front of her, she stretched and snacked on them.

Bucky kept placing treats on the ground in the form of a trail, so that Mrs Marshmallow followed him till they reached the entrance of the bathroom. He tentatively placed one last piece of treat inside the bathroom, and as soon as Mrs Marshmallow entered, Sam closed the door and locked it. 

Slowly chewing her food, Mrs Marshmallow looked up at the two of them, then took in her surroundings. 

"Meow?" 

"Sorry baby, but you need a bath," Bucky told her.

"Meeeow!"

"I know baby, but we have to give you a bath. I am truly sorry honey but we have no choice," Bucky tried to reason with her.

"Meeeeeow! Meeeow!! Meeeeoooww!"

"Okay miss that kind of language will not be tolerated in this house," Sam scolded her as he picked her up and placed her in the tub.

The nightmare that ensued in the next 2 hours will probably haunt Sam and Bucky for the rest of their lives. 

A drenched Bucky opened the bathroom door and out walked a disgusted, and freshly washed Mrs Marshmallow, her tail swishing in annoyance and mistrust as she headed for the door of the apartment.

Soaked with soap and water, Sam went ahead and opened it for her as Bucky followed the pair, limping on his way.

Thanks to the commotion caused in the bathroom, quite a small crowd of people had gathered outside their apartment at the Avengers/Stark Tower.

Fury screamed and jumped aside as Mrs Marshmallow left the apartment and went towards Wanda. "Awww what did they do to you kitten?" she cooed at the feline.

"Meooooow!"

Wanda gasped sarcastically, "Oh my God! Are you serious? We need to talk about this over catnip. C'mon," she led the cat towards her room, laughing all the way as Maria glared at Sam and Bucky.

"Are you kidding me?" Maria asked them, "Both of you are buff superheros. You fight terrorists, aliens and God knows what for a living! And you couldn't bathe a small cat?"

"Small cat?!" Fury looked at Maria with shock and fear, "Did you see the size of that monster?"

"Mrs Marshmallow is not a monster," both Sam and Bucky said in unison.

Maria rolled her eyes, "Just because one cat clawed out your eye that doesn't mean every cat is a monster."

"Wait…" muttered Bucky.

"WHAT?!" exclaimed Sam.

"Maria!" Fury said in a threatening tone.

She smirked and walked away, leaving the three men in uncomfortable silence.

"Sooooo-" Sam started to say, but Fury cut him off. "Not. A. Word. Am I clear?" Fury growled.

As soon as he left, both the men doubled down giggling, but immediately regretted it. 

"Oww!" 

"Ugh!" 

"Let's head towards the med bay," Bucky suggested, limping towards Sam.

Sam nodded, "What do you know about Fury's eye?"

"All I have ever heard are urban myths and rumours," admitted Bucky, "It is said that back when he was still an agent at S.H.I.E.L.D, he met Captain Marvel and her pet cat, who was an alien. Giant tentacles would come out from the cat's mouth and swallow entire vehicles, jets, and even people! Some people say that it was the same cat that scratched out his eye."

"I wonder if any of it is true," Sam thought. 

2 WEEKS LATER, Mrs Marshmallow was still sour with Sam and Bucky. Both the gentlemen tried to shower her with her favourite food, toys and what not. Still, there was no swaying the feline. Unknown to them, she was seeking revenge.

And so one night, when Bucky was fast asleep, Mrs Marshmallow entered his room stealthily and looked for his vibranium arm. He often removed it before sleeping and kept it on the chair besides his dresser. She slowly went towards the arm, and opened her mouth. Large, thick tentacles emerged from her mouth and grabbed the arm. The tentacles retracted back in her orifice as she swallowed the whole vibranium arm without flinching her eyes. 

She then turned towards Sam's room and swallowed the compact bag that contained his giant metal wings.

Bucky woke up a few hours later and immediately noticed his missing arm. "Sam! SAM! Where is my arm?" he shouted as he looked for him in the apartment.

Sam emerged from the kitchen with a bowl, whisking the pancake batter, "What's wrong? You need a hand?" he snickered. 

"Yes I need my hand!" Bucky showed him his shoulder stump, "Where did you hide it?"

"Hide what?"

"My arm! Ugh! Sam I am not in the mood for games!"

"And I am not playing any!" Sam defended himself, "I know I have hidden your arm in the past, and I know I have even laughed at you about it for days, because it's always hilarious, but-"

"I am checking your room," Bucky snapped and entered Sam's room. 

He came out a few minutes later, "Sam, even your wings are gone."

Sam dropped the pancake he was about to flip, "WHAT?!" he exclaimed in shock.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y was there an unauthorised entry last night in our apartment?" Bucky asked the AI.

"No Mr Barnes," came the prompt reply.

"We need to inform Fury about the robbery and secure a perimeter," Sam supplied as they prepared to leave the apartment in a hurry, worried about a potential breach in the security system.

Both the superheros kept food and water for the cat and left. Mrs Marshmallow gladly ate her imported tuna mush in peace, relishing every bite with leisure without a care in the world.

This fic was inspired by this beautiful image created by @muffinshark 😍😍😍

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Permanent tag: @donutloverxo @notyourtypicalrose @just-one-ordinary-fangirl

Taglist for Bucky: @loustan90

Taglist open! Just comment, send an ask or message!

[naomiyuan]

As climate change thaws mountain tops, risks of rockfalls surge

As a scientist counts down "3-2-1", five neon-colored orbs are lowered from a helicopter hovering overhead and released. The orbs barrel down the Swiss mountain, toppling beech and spruce trees as they pick up speed.

These "test rocks" – the heaviest weighing 3,200 kilograms (7,000 lbs)– are part of research aimed at understanding the growing risk of rockfalls around the world.

As climate change warms high-altitude mountain regions, boulders and rocks long frozen into place are being loosed and tumbling downslope.

"All of this is going in one direction: more unstable," said Christian Huggel, a glaciologist at the University of Zurich who was not involved in the mountain experiments.

"It's getting more dangerous, and especially more dangerous if you have massive investments in hazard-prone areas."

The world was horrified in February, when a hunk of rock and ice broke from a Himalayan peak and swept down the mountain, killing more than 200 people and wiping out a hydroelectric dam in its path.

"Where a rock will land, how it will bounce, how high it will jump … we can answer all that," said physicist Andrin Caviezel, one of the scientists tracing the cartoon-colored orbs down Schraubachtobel Mountain, near Switzerland's eastern border with Liechtenstein.

Though the team's test rocks started from the same spot, they each took a different path. The orange orb got trapped behind a tree stump. The pink one broke through a stone barrier to land, chipped and battered, in a stream bed.

"We took bets on whether they would get stuck or not," Caviezel said, laughing. "I lost."

Visit book printing homepage for more details.

Over three years, the team from the Swiss Federal Institute for Forest, Snow and Landscape Research has hurled their faux boulders down different mountains hundreds of times, gathering data for a computer simulation aimed at estimating a boulder's landing spot to within a meter.

"But we will never answer the 'when'," Caviezel said. "That was never in our model."

'YOU CAN HEAR THE STONES FALLING'

One night in July 2018 made Valais canton resident Robert Sarbach feel helpless – and terrified. Under a heavy downpour, a chunk of Ritigraben rock glacier broke away, sending waves of debris down to the valley below.

"It was intense and emotional," Sarbach recalled. "In the night you can see nothing. But you can hear the stones falling, and the water. And you smell the earth."

Scientists do not have much data on rockfalls, partly because they often happen in remote regions where few people live. New technologies are helping to detect more of the bigger rockfalls, though.

Seismic sensors clued scientists into an otherwise unreported rockslide in Tibet last month, with an estimated 40 million cubic meters of debris – enough to fill about 16,000 Olympic-sized swimming pools – crashing down in remote Yarlung Tsangpo.

That kind of technology could help detect disasters in the Himalayas, where many of the countries have fewer resources for search and rescue, said David Petley, an Earth scientist at the University of Sheffield who maintains a blog https://blogs.agu.org/landslideblog on landslides.

"In Switzerland, authorities would probably mobilise all resources to help you," Petley said. "In Nepal, you are probably on your own."

Still, for years evidence has suggested that landslides are already becoming more frequent. One 2012 study https://bit.ly/3x7jt6H by Huggel and colleagues published in Geology Today found a "strong increase" in the number of significant Alpine rock slope failures coinciding with warmer temperatures from the 1980s onward.

But permafrost covers only about 4% of Switzerland's area, which limits the country's rockfall exposure. In Alaska, where nearly 85% of the land contains some amount of permafrost, the danger may be higher.

One area of Alaska's Saint Elias Mountains that typically sees six rock avalanches per year on average experienced a total of 41 during the unseasonably warm years of 2013-2016, according to a 2020 study https://bit.ly/3mYOLbc published in the journal Frontiers in Earth Science.

Of particular worry are the U.S. state's coastal mountains, where a mass of rocks falling into the water can trigger big waves. The collapse of a mountain face at Taan Fjord in 2015 dumped a mass of rock into the water, unleashing a 193-meter (633-foot) tsunami in the Gulf of Alaska's Icy Bay, according to the U.S. National Park Service.

No one was injured, but the event raised alarms about such events occurring in the more heavily trafficked areas of Prince William Sound, visited by cruise ships and other vessels.

"That is the worst-case scenario that haunts me a little bit," said Ronald Daanen, a geohydrologist with the Alaska Division of Geological and Geophysical Surveys.

The fact that climate change is also altering precipitation patterns can raise danger levels. Where frequent snowfall once replenished the ice caps, heavy rain might fall instead. That water can further eat into icy areas and trigger landslides.

On the lower slopes of Switzerland's Meretschihorn mountain, one couple had to be evacuated five times last year. Fearing a large rainfall-induced debris surge, officials are negotiating to permanently remove them from the risky area.

"We are not prepared" around the world for this risk, said Marta Chiarle, a geologist at Italy's National Research Council. "My impression is still that we are not taking this seriously."

[northlakestreelopping]

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[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 2: Chapter 14

The CMAs: November 2016

Word count: 2.7k

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

Aurora had slowly been increasing the amount of time she wore her prosthetic every day in anticipation of the upcoming CMAs. While she wasn’t ashamed of her body and had even recently posted a selfie on Instagram of her stump without the compression stocking, she wanted to be able to wear the prosthetic on the red carpet and throughout the entire evening. She’d explained all of this to Ben during a check-up and he had helped to create a schedule for her to slowly build up to a full evening. Despite her impatience she understood the need for hesitancy after Ben had explained the risk of pressure sores. She had also found that the transmitting device that sat behind her ear would start to give her a headache around the two hour mark and Tony and Peter were currently working to solve that problem.

A week before the CMAs, Harry took Aurora out to her favourite Gallery, the Acquavella on the Upper East Side and they wandered the familiar halls hand in hand. After confessing how much she loved the gallery during Harry’s first visit to see her in New York, he had made a point of bringing her here whenever he was in town, although they tried to come at odd times in the middle of the week to avoid the crowds.

“One day I want to have a piece hanging on these walls,” Aurora murmured as they walked.

“You will,” Harry replied, kissing the top of her head where she lent it against his shoulder. She smiled at the confidence of his statement, so sure in his belief of her.

They wandered the gallery for a little while longer before leaving and crossing 5th Avenue into Central Park. They strolled through the park, beanies tugged over their heads and scarves wrapped tightly around their necks to ward off the autumn chill. The sky was gloomy and no one they passed by recognized them as they meandered along. They were nearly to the southwest corner of the park, Avengers Tower looming into the sky above them when the darkening clouds opened above them and the rained poured down. Aurora let out a shriek, quickly followed by peals of laughter, which Harry echoed and they both wordlessly let go of each other to take off running. By the time they stepped into the lobby of the tower they were drenched and laughing. As the strode towards the elevator, Aurora slipped on the polished tiles, throwing out her arm to save her fall as she tipped backwards. Unfortunately, it was her left hand and the impact ricocheted up through the socket of the prosthesis and into the stump of her forearm. She let out a strained hiss of pain, her right hand clutching at her elbow as she sat on the floor, grateful that the rain still clinging to her skin masked the presence of tears on her cheeks. Harry helped her to her feet and moved them both towards the elevator.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “It was just a little slip H.”

“You’re not fine, let me see,” he murmured in reply. She kept telling him she was fine until the elevator reached the penthouse and they both headed for her rooms. “Ok let’s just get showered and changed into something dry,” Harry conceded once it was abundantly clear she wasn’t going to admit to the pain radiating up her arm.

Aurora choked back a sob as she removed her prosthesis, the skin beneath an angry shade of red. She stripped out of her soaking wet clothes and followed Harry into the bathroom where he was already standing under the hot water. He stepped aside to let her under the water, his hands gently resting on her hips and his chest pressed against her back.

“Don’t shut me out,” he whispered, pressing kisses against her shoulder as the shower pelted down on them. “Please don’t pretend everything’s ok when I know it isn’t.”

As the warm water cascaded over her body and Harry continued to whisper against her skin, she felt herself beginning to tremble. Once the first sob broke, Harry quickly spun her around to face him, holding her tightly against his chest. When her knees buckled, he kept her standing, reaching out with one hand to turn off the shower before wrapping towels around them both and carrying Aurora out of the bathroom. He laid them both down on the bed and held her tightly as her shaking soften and her sobs eased.

“Let me see it,” he said when she finally fell silent. He held his breath as she held out her right arm, dark bruises already forming across her pale skin.  “JARVIS? I need you to call Dr. Walker and Ben Sherman. Set up an appointment for the morning.”

“Right away Mr. Styles.”

“I’m gonna go get you some painkillers and then we’ll just stay in here and watch a movie ok?” he told her. She nodded, moving back from where she was curled up against him to let him stand, pulling on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before leaving the room. While he was gone Aurora climbed off the bed, letting her towel fall to the floor before slipping into a comfortable pair of shorts and one of Harry’s shirts. She climbed back into the bed, flicking through Netflix while she waited.

Harry returned a little while later with a  tray of food. He placed it on the bedside table before joining Aurora under the covers. Once he was comfortably settled against the headboard, he passed her a glass of water and a few pills which she gladly took, swallowing quickly before placing the glass on her own bedside table. Harry placed the tray between them on the bed and Aurora looked at him questioningly as she took in the plates of pasta and large slices of chocolate cake.

“Steve was cooking dinner when I got to the kitchen,” he explained. “Told him you weren’t feeling well and we’re spending the night in.”

She thanked him, leaning into his side as she rested her bowl on her lap and dug in. a generic romcom playing on the screen at the foot of the bed. By the time they’d finished eating, the painkillers were taking effect and Aurora found her eyes growing heavy as she curled further into Harry’s arms. He kissed her head, shifting them both so that they were lying down beneath the duvet and within minutes she had drifted off to sleep.

They woke the following morning to JARVIS informing them that both Dr Walker and Ben Sherman would meet them in the med bay downstairs in an hour. They dressed and ate a quick breakfast in the kitchen before heading downstairs.

Harry watched on as Dr Walker and Ben both inspected Aurora’s arm, using the med bay equipment to take an x-ray as well as an ultrasound.

Ben looked at her arm, pressing against the stump until Aurora winced. “You have a bone bruise,” Dr Walker announced, “but it’s nothing too serious.”

“How do we fix it?” Aurora asked, her gaze flicking between the two of them.

“We’ll get you some painkillers and you can use heat packs to deal with the discomfort,” Ben replied. “It should heal up on its own after a few weeks of rest, but you need to avoid using your prosthetic until it’s completely healed.”

“A few weeks?” she gasped. “No, I’m supposed to perform at the CMAs next week.”

“Are you supposed to be playing?” Ben asked her gently, sensing her panic.

“No, just singing,” Aurora explained. “I just wasn’t expecting to be on a stage that big without this.” She gestured to the prosthetic hand, sitting on the table beside them. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

“Hey,” Harry interrupted softly, drawing Auroras attention to his calm face. His eyes swam with all the love and affection he felt for her and she found her breathing levelling out. The panic left her in the wake of his confident expression. “If you’re not ready to go out there without it, we call Mark right now and cancel. But I think you are beautiful. No one watching is going to see anything less than a strong, brave woman, who is an incredible singer.”

“My dress doesn’t have sleeves,” Aurora replied, her brain focusing on the smaller issues in an attempt to stave off the panic building in her chest.

“We could get you another dress,” Harry chuckled, “but think of what it would mean to all of those kids we’ve been visiting. Imagine them watching on tv as you stand up in front of everyone, without shame, without the need to hide.”

“Hadn’t thought of that,” Rori mumbled. “It would mean the world to them.”

“No pressure,” Harry said, “but I think this could be a really important step for you.”

xXx

Aurora flew to Tennessee on her own, while Harry remained in New York to continue working on his album and also allowing her to focus on rehearsals without him interjecting. This was her thing and he didn’t want to feel like he was trying to steal her thunder. He would fly in the morning of the awards allowing plenty of time to get ready before walking the red carpet with her.

She spent the few days leading up to the show in rehearsals with Rascal Flatts, her excitement for the awards show growing the closer it got. Before she knew it,  Wednesday rolled around and Harry flew in just after lunch time. They met up at the hotel, and with the help of their hair and makeup teams they got dressed and ready to go. Aurora had decided against changing her dress and instead stuck with her original choice of a sleek, black strapless cocktail dress with a tight skirt that hugged her curves, ending midway down her thighs. Harry chose to keep his own outfit simple, opting for a form fitting black suit, with a black collared shirt. The bruising on her arm had began to fade over the last few days now a soft yellowing of her skin was the only sign that anything had happened.

Aurora found her nerves growing as their car arrived at the Bridgestone Arena. Harry climbed out first, buttoning his jacket and then holding out his hand to help her out of the car. He squeezed her hand as the car drove away and the couple smiled brightly as camera’s flashed around them. They made their way down the red carpet, Harry’s hand rarely leaving Aurora’s as she gripped his tightly. He only let go for brief moments when they stopped occasionally for interviews and photos, before finally reaching the venue and stepping inside, away from the prying eyes of the media. Ushers directed them to their seats, where they found Rascal Flatts and their wives waiting for them. Harry shook hands with the boys and kissed the wives on the cheeks, while Aurora received hugs from everyone.

Towards the end of the show, while the live broadcast was in a commercial break, Aurora, Jay, Garry and Joe stood up and made their way backstage to prepare for their performance. Harry shuffled down the row to sit next to Joe’s wife Tiffany as seat fillers arrived next to him.

Aurora changed into a floor length red gown and swapped out her earrings before joining the three men behind the curtain, side of stage. She rubbed her hand nervously over the exposed skin of her stump, her heart racing as she prepared to step out in front of hundreds of people, countless more watching at home. Garry gave her shoulder a comf0rting squeeze as the three of them headed out on to the stage.  

“From their new album, Back to Us, please welcome to the stage Rascal Flatts with their latest single, Are You Happy Now?” The audience applauded at the announcer’s words, and then the song began. Aurora picked up her microphone and waited for her cue as Garry’s voice filled the arena.

Someone let your secret out Everybody 'round here's talking about, how your knight in shining armour let you down And now you're alone, I told you so This is what you wanted, baby, now you got it Something's wrong and you can't put your finger on it Could it be that maybe, you did that to me, baby And now you found

Aurora stepped out on to the stage, her head held high as she joined the chorus. She continued walking until she reached Garry’s side, his smile matching her own as she finally let herself enjoy the moment, all of her anxiety melting away as the words poured out of her.

What goes around comes back around It's been that way forever Baby, just look at you now, barely holding it together We were so in love, but you gave that up Just look around, are you happy now? Oooh, are you happy now?

Aurora walked forward to the front of the stage; the audience spread out before her as she sang her solo verse. Yeah, you're gonna spend some sleepless nights Crying in the glow of the TV light With some sad song on and a glass of wine Just to sit in the pain, baby, what a shame This is what you wanted, baby now you got it Something's wrong and you can't put your finger on it Could it be that maybe, you did that to me, baby And now you found

Garry walked out to the front of the stage to join her once more, their voices blending together as they harmonized, the music swelling around them as the song grew.

What goes around comes back around It's been that way forever Baby, just look at you now, barely holding it together We were so in love, but you gave that up Just look around Are you happy now? Now that I'm not around (now that I'm not around) Now that you've finally lost what you thought that you needed Never would have treated your heart like you did What goes around comes back around It's been that way forever Baby, just look at you now, barely holding it together Oh, we were so in love, oh, but you gave that up Just look around (just look around) What goes around comes back around It's been that way forever We were so in love (we were so in love) But you gave that up (but you gave it up) Just look around (just look around) Are you happy now? (are you happy now?) Are you happy?

What goes around comes back around

Garry wrapped an arm around her shoulders at the end of the song and they were both grinning from ear to ear as the audience applauded. Aurora caught sight of Harry, locking eyes with him and blowing a kiss. Joe and Jay reached them at the front of the stage standing on either side of them, all with their arms thrown around each other. They waved to the crowd before leaving the stage.

Since they were one of the final performances of the night, they remained backstage until the end of the show and eventually Harry and the guys wives made their way back to them. As soon as he spotted her, Harry rushed to Rori’s side, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. She giggled as he spun her, kissing her deeply when he finally set her back on the ground.

“You were amazing,” he said, somewhat breathless from the kiss. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Jay agreed. “You’d never guess you’ve been out of the game for a year Rori. You absolutely killed it out there.”

Aurora blushed profusely in response, mumbling a thank you, her arms still wrapped around Harry as he stared at her with so much love and adoration.

NEXT CHAPTER

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[the-lightless-star]

Marred by Memories

The candlelight flickered against the thread-bare tent as Brienne strained to get a better look at Jaime's arm. With a needle in hand, she took to prodding his tender skin to remove tiny splinters from his stump.

Jaime hissed, jerking his arm from her grasp as she removed a large piece from deep within the skin. "Would you sit still?" Brienne quietly scolded, pulling his arm tighter.

"But it hurts," Jaime whined, biting back a wince.

Brienne bit back a soft smile, "Ser Jaime Lannister, slayer of the mad king, the golden lion of the rock, and warrior of the Long Night, felled by firewood."

Rubbing his tender skin, he growled in return, "Well, we can't all have noble jobs like you, my lady. Though if asked again to choose between moving bodies or gathering wood, I'd still choose the latter," he nudged her gently with his stump, "splinters and all."

It had been just over two weeks since King's Landing had been sacked. Leveled to ash and rubble. One week since Brienne wearily marched into camp, fearing what she might find amongst the carnage when the smoke cleared.

Nightmares had plagued her for days after he left her in Winterfell, growing in gruesome detail with each passing night. In her mind, she could see him clearly, golden hand reaching out from the rubble, head gently cradled on his sister's chest as they clung to one another in death.

With guidance from a weary Davos, she had found Jaime picking through the stone of the Red Keep. Covered in blood and soot, she almost mistook him for a boy, small and frail from behind. His golden hand was gone, his clothes torn and singed in places, his exposed skin blistered from intense heat.

He would later confess to her with wild eyes that he watched Cersei fall. After begging her to surrender, she had refused him, her intensity manic. Striding across the room to retrieve a wine glass as if she could not hear the sound of her people burning alive. The dragon had clipped the Tower of the Hand, sending the heavy stone crashing into the holdfast. Jaime had been thrown back from the force, and Cersei disappeared as the stone beneath her crumbled.

He had looked so lost when she found him. Unable to speak above a weak croak, he was turning stones over with his stump, attempting in vain to search for life beneath the Red Keep.

He had sobered up since she'd arrived, going away inside as he pushed the trauma to the recesses of his mind. He had remained busy, completing any task he was given and resting only when his body betrayed him into sleep.

They found themselves in a small encampment just outside the Iron Gate. Though the White Sword Tower and Maidenvault remained untouched by the fires of battle, Jaime refused to rest within. Whether motivated by guilt or fear, she did not know.

Grabbing a poultice from the bedside, Brienne grabbed his stump once more, beginning to knead the sensitive skin in firm strokes. Jaime lay against the blankets closing his eyes as she went through her ministrations. His chest was bare, his thin frame exposed to the warm air. The seasons were changing, and the chill that had made its way south had all but disappeared. A heaviness lingered in the air. The ash had created a haze upon the city, falling like snow and trapping them beneath a tent of immense humidity.

Jaime had taken to stripping to his smallclothes upon entry into the tent. She stared longingly. Her once demure glances had changed to desire, though she chastised herself for entertaining such thoughts as he suffered.

His breathing had slowed and evened, left hand pressed to his heart, relaxed and safe in her presence. Brienne took her time, her movements practiced. Fingertips making a trail around his stump, as her eyes made a similar journey down his body.

His golden locks, once pure and shining, now dark and peppered with gray. His beard had grown longer since Winterfell, the short prickling hairs now smooth and soft to the touch. His collarbone stood shockingly prominent beneath his shoulders. The hard lines on his body, evidence of malnutrition, and intense stress. Scars and bruises marred his torso, his imperfections on display, unabashedly before her.

"Beautiful," she breathed, before kissing his stump softly and laying his arm at his side. Rising to ready for bed, Brienne turned away from Jaime, putting away the poultice and placing his discarded shirt on the bedside chair. While ensuring the tent flap was tightly secured, Brienne could hear a familiar refrain outside.

The faint wails of mourners in the distance, continuing grief as more bodies were discovered beneath the city. The drunken laughter of soldiers imbibing to keep the terrors of the night at bay.

She could feel heat spread through her body from moans of pleasure in the distance as people sought comfort in each other's arms.

Unbuttoning her shirt to allow the breeze of the night air to cool her skin, a coarse voice whispered in return, "Beautiful."

Jaime didn't need to see her face to know the hardening of her jaw at his words. The stiffening of her shoulders bracing for the inevitable jape to follow. Turning to face him, Brienne drew her open shirt tightly across her chest.

Jaime patted the covers, inviting her to return to her seat beside him. Brienne reluctantly complied, perching on the edge of the bed.

"No," he admonished, "Come here."

Knowing full well, there was little room for her to lay beside him, he meant for her to sit astride him.

"I'm strong enough," he reminded her before she could refuse.

Brienne acquiesced and closed her eyes as his stump traced the line where her skin met the collar of her shirt. Lightly dancing across her skin, he came to the scars across her neck. Taking his time, he traced each one clumsily. The remnant of the poultice leaving a cool path with its touch.

"We make a handsome pair, my lady."

She opened her eyes to find his face devoid of amusement. A hard-line had formed on his brow as he swallowed thickly. Before he could draw his stump away, she grabbed it and kept it pressed firmly to her neck, kissing it reverently.

She whispered softly, "Scars are just another type of memory. We do well to remember them."

Jaime nodded, a soft groan escaping his lips as her hand began to roam his chest. Her exploration ceased as she reached his collarbone to trace a thick scar than ran from his shoulder to his back.

Reading the question in her eyes, he spoke softly.

"We used to play amongst the cliffs at the Rock. With Mother gone, we would escape the servants and do what we pleased. Father couldn't be bothered to look after us." Jaime swallowed hard as he met Brienne's stare.

"Cersei told me she wanted to jump from the cliffs but was too frightened to do it alone. She mocked me at my hesitance, and you know I've never been one to stand down from a challenge. We counted together and ran for the cliff's edge. I jumped, only realizing I had jumped alone when I heard her laughing as I fell. My shoulder caught the sharp edge of the rock facing as I hit the shallow water. Father was absolutely monstrous over the whole ordeal." His eyes look down at the offending spot as she traced it.

"Cersei could convince me of anything," he whispered, "even at that age."

His watery gaze met hers as she leaned close and pressed a chaste kiss to his shoulder. He released a heavy sigh as the touch of her lips left his skin.

As a means of distraction, Jaime began his own exploration. Grabbing her hand and turning it until her palm faced upward, he exposed a series of thin white scars marring the pale skin between her wrist and fingers.

Brienne's hand trembled in his grasp, thinking back to their source. "Septa Roelle learned pretty quickly that her cruel words did little to deter me from behavior unbecoming a girl of my station." Her words dripping with contempt as she remembered the vile woman

"Her taunts began to fuel me to act out further in defiance. She decided we would start having our lessons on the West facing balcony of Evenfall Hall. That particular view overlooked the stables and the armory where Ser Goodwin trained the men of Tarth to use the sword."

Brienne felt Jaime's grip tighten and looked up to find him nodding for her to continue.

"When I would get distracted from my studies by the echoing steel below, she would demand I present my hands palm up, and proceed to take a rod and strike me until I cried out. In my stubbornness, it would often take a few attempts. She knew it would render me unable to spar for a few days and that Father would assume my hands were sore from working with Ser Goodwin on my grip."

Chin wavering, she confessed bravely, "I think she delighted in her mistreatment. The Gods had cursed her with a great beast for a charge, and she knew it her duty teach me so."

Jaime's eyes were alight with anger and bit back a curse under his breath. He brought the marred palm to his lips, the hair of his beard tickling the sensitive skin, and held her gaze as his mouth met her hand.

"You are no great beast, my lady," he avowed, quieting her rebuke with a finger against her lips, "No matter what any bitter old septa or oathbreaking bastard says."

She knew he thought of those japes often. The cruelty he used against her as they traveled together toward King's Landing. Brienne thought back to that first night, the once golden lion wrapped in chains, covered in mud and shit, waiting to die. Claws no longer sharp, yet lashing out at any brave enough to get close to his cage.

Jaime had long since paid for his wrongdoings in unimaginably painful ways. She would do well to help him leave those burdens behind.

Jaime leaned back on his forearm, watching Brienne trace patterns on his skin with her long fingertips. He winced as her hand traveled over the bruised skin of his torso. His side was tender as her hand came to rest upon a sensitive spot, where a thin scar lay hidden between his ribs. He remembered her touch as she would trace its path each night in Winterfell, the rhythm putting him to sleep as she lay curled behind him.

He smiled at her prodding, his chest puffed out in pride. He put his hand over hers and pressed it tight to his skin.

"When I squired for Lord Crakehall, the Kingswood Brotherhood had become quite a nuisance. King Aerys sent out a few members of his Kingsguard, and we accompanied them to the Kingswood."

He stared past her, smiling at a forgotten memory. "I was more excited than I had any right to be. Wondering how I had found myself in the company of such men. As soon as we drew our swords, my blood starting to sing, and I knew there was nothing else I wanted to do."

"I was cocky, mind you, and inexperienced," he added. Brienne pursing her lips in mock surprise at his confession.

"But I was quick, and a good study. At one point, I traded blows with the Smiling Knight," he gushed.

Brienne could see the young boy, alive with excitement, in his eyes. To stand among men of honor, to fight beside them, and be counted among them.

"I protected Lord Crakehall from Big Belly Ben, but not before one of the Brotherhood caught me with the tip of his blade. I didn't even know I had been hit, my heart was racing so fast."

His smile was contagious, and Brienne couldn't help but grin. "You were knighted soon after, yes?"

He nodded as he touched the faded scar, the first of many he would receive in service to the realm. "Ser Arthur told me all men must bleed, blood is the seal of our devotion."

His smile turned heavy, no doubt recounting the many decisions he would make as he grew in his knighthood, choices that would cause him to question the very oaths he swore to uphold.

Jaime winced as he shifted underneath her. Thinking herself too heavy, she moved to get up.

With a hand to her lower back, he stilled her movements.

"Just a little sore, it's not you," he whispered.

Jaime studied her face, taking in the crooked bend of her nose and the freckles that ran rampant across her cheeks, before settling upon the small scar that formed a line across her top lip. Tightening his stump around her back to pull her flush to his chest, he nuzzled the spot with his lips. Brienne could feel the building heat as he pressed closer.

Distracting him from pursuing her further, she began to talk, recalling the events that led to the mark upon her face.

"Father entertained many noble houses at Evenfall after mother died. Whether in an attempt to make a match for himself or me, I do not know. Most of the time, he would make sure I was kept away. He knew my disdain for court, and my appearance was offputting to many. But I remember Father introducing me to a young heir, from House Wyld, perhaps, I'm not sure."

Brienne feathered her fingers through Jaime's hair, scratching lightly at the back of his neck where his hair had grown long.

"Father told me that the boy was quite the swordsman, and it would be an honor to spar with him. I was excited, not having had much training against younger opponents, and Father was not usually so accepting of my want to practice the blade. Needless to say, as soon as the adults were out of earshot, the boy spewed vile things about me, my family, and our island. I did not wish to dishonor my Father, so I sheathed my sword and turned to walk away. I didn't get a couple of steps away when he caught the braid of my hair and twisted it around in his fist."

Brienne's grip on Jaime's hair tightened as she held her chin up and continued. "I pulled free and managed to charge him, knocking him to the ground. When he put his hands up to block me, his signet ring sliced my face."

"Father found us there. I had him pinned to the ground. Blood covering both of us. He never even asked me what happened. I was punished for provoking and attacking our guests and bringing shame to Tarth. Lord Wyld told my Father he would spread news of it among the Stormlands and, if he continued to look for a match for his daughter, he might want to hide her from view in the future."

A grim line formed on Brienne's face. "I went up to my room and decided to cut off my hair. The less a man had to use against me, the better."

Jaime thread his fingers through the thin hair at the base of her neck. Leaning in, he placed a chaste kiss to the small scar. Brienne closed her eyes, savoring the pressure of his lips on her skin. Opening his mouth ever so slightly, Jaime sought permission to deepen the kiss. Her mouth parted as he claimed her lower lip.

Jaime's hand began to roam, tugging lightly on the thin fabric that kept her body hidden from him. Uncovering her chest, Jaimie ran his palm across her breasts, the thin covering of her smallclothes separating them from his eager hand.

Brienne rested her head on his shoulder, arching into his touch. Her breath hot on his neck, Jaime groaned as her lips made their way toward his jaw. Her thighs tightened their grip, pinning his legs between them.

Jaime dipped his hand beneath the thin fabric covering her breasts, running his thumb over the softness, eliciting a gasp as he pinched the supple skin.

As their kisses grew more fervent, Brienne began to rock her hips, the rhythm of her body casting shadows on the tent walls, firelight flickering with the wind.

Jaime gripped her waist, watching as her body moved over him. Her eyes were tightly shut, unaware of his intense gaze. Her limbs moved as they did in battle, muscles tightening and releasing with unbridled strength. Her chest heaving with each breath, gasping for air in the thick heat of the night. With each movement of her body, there was immense power, able to crush him under its weight. But it was tempered with gentleness, her body acutely aware of its strength.

Her movements became labored as she pressed her forehead against his, strength waning as her weight became heavier against his body.

Rising to meet her thrusts, he gripped her hips painfully in his grasp as she buried her face in his neck, breaths puffing rapidly against his skin.

He knew he wouldn't last long, his body desperate after being separated from her. Her moans grew audible, signaling to him that she was close. He had quickly learned she was all but silent during lovemaking, her resolve to stay quiet, a battle she fought against herself. Jaimie found pleasure in watching as her body betrayed her, giving way to cries and moans as she finally let go.

Brienne took his mouth in her own, cradling his jaw in her hands. Pouring every ounce of herself into a bruising kiss.

He felt her legs tighten painfully, and her head drop against his shoulder, her movements becoming erratic before stilling all together. Her legs shook with her release, arms tightening around his shoulders as she let go.

Jaime held her close, his own peak coming right after. He gripped her just as tight, gasping as his eyes rolled back. They rocked against each other softly, whispering incoherently as they came down.

Noticing Jaimie's legs trembling from holding the weight of her body, Brienne quickly eased herself off. She blushed as she took in the sight of him. Chest still heaving, he lay against the back of the bed, lips swollen and wet, body flushed, and hair sticking up in all directions. She had done that.

Brienne quickly retrieved a small cloth, wetting it and returning to the bed. The candlelight was slowly dying. Her eyes strained to adjust.

She tugged on the waistband of his underclothes, "budge up," she whispered as she helped him remove the soiled garment.

His hand gripped her forearm as he watched her gently clean him in the dim light. Moving away to change her clothes, he watched as she gathered her bedroll and placed it near the tent's entrance.

"Brienne?" he called out.

She hummed in response.

"Come to bed," he encouraged.

"I did not think you wished to keep me in your bed," she explained.

"You think I wish to use you to get off and then discard you to the floors, wench?" he questioned in confusion.

"No, it's just that I hear you at night. You thrash, and you weep. You call out her name," her voice dropping to a near whisper, "I do not wish to cloud your mind further."

"Brienne, please?" he tried once more.

Ambling over to the bed, she tentatively squeezed in behind him, their bodies too big to fit on the small frame.

He reached behind him, pulling her arm around his waist and placing it on his chest. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart against her palm. She pressed her cheek against his back and tucked her knees behind his.

"You are right," he stated.

"I dream of her each night," he confessed, keeping a tight grip on her hand, feeling her attempts to pull away.

"I dream of her eyes as they stare at me in disgust after I returned without my sword hand. As I dared to step into her presence, no longer a mirror image of her beauty."

Jaime began to stroke Brienne's hand as it pressed tighter to his chest.

"I dream of her maniacal laughter as she blew up the sept and contributed to the death of my only living child, and blame myself for not being there to prevent it."

Tears began to run unchecked as he continued.

"I dream of her sending Golden Company to Tarth, to set fire to your home and kill everyone that you hold dear, all because you chose to align yourself with me. An oathbreaker, a man without honor."

He stopped her before she could reply. "She cannot hurt me anymore, save for my dreams. You are the only thing that keeps them at bay."

"Please, Brienne," he pleads in the darkness.

She shushes him and pulls him tighter against her body. Her fingertips beginning the familiar rhythm. Passing from one scar to the next, she feels his breathing even out as his weight sags against her.

She continues her path across his body, each mark a memory, her hands guarding them as they pass through the night.

(aleighcarlisle on Ao3) https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476812

[selanaris]

A Beastly Fate

(Note: An amazing writer @moonlightdeer739 wrote this amazing piece and I cannot wait to read more!!)

Bumblebee made an impulse buy as he and the rest of the repair crew were docked on Cybertron, most mechs buy small domestic pets to keep them company on long flights, but hey, when a hulking great big Cyger is going for less than most fancy breeds, who’s he to turn such a deal down? Little does he know just what a fate he’s set himself, the Cyger, and his small team on.

Chapter 1

Bumblebee wasn’t the brightest bot, he’d never claim that, one of the fastest online? Oh he’d say that until his final cycle, he’d say that if he was rusted to the planet itself, one of the fastest bots ever even.

But now he had a new little title to go by, Bumblebee, the impulse buyer.

He’d bought things on impulse before, upgrades, frame decals, the whole seven kliks, normal things that normal sane bots will on occasion impulsively buy.

But this?

His latest purchase had ever mech and femme leaping aside in horror, and was following him like some obedient cyberhound, keeping a good bit of slack on the leash he’d bought to attach to the blank collar of his latest impulse purchase.

The beast that’s shoulder was higher than his helm, with jaws that could snap his helm off, and massive claw bearing pedes almost as big as Bulkhead’s clumsy servos, had a colouration of bright red and blue, with near neon yellow breaking up the two in a pattern of yellow strikes that slashed downwards to the black and grey underbelly of the beast.

Bumblebee almost laughed when a mech leapt clean into a trash receptacle to escape his new purchases gaze.

Those bright, almost crystal blue optics, hazed unlike the clarity of higher sentience, continued to glance around, taking in every shocked face, but also kept focused on his new owner, the first member of his colony.

Bumblebee was practically preening himself, this was so worth it, this was worth Zeta screaming at him, worth Ratchet’s scolding at miss-using their funding for getting spare parts for the Spacebridges, Bulkhead would, well, Bulkhead would probably be too scared to be in the same room as his new pet, the big soft spark.

Bumblebee glanced behind him when the leash went taught, his impulse buy was looking at something, giant snout sniffing the ground, massive whiskers twitching as the beasts optics narrowed a bit, before winding when he gave the leash another tug.

Not a moment later, and his purchase practically trotted a few steps to stand beside him, the beasts helm was level with his own, a slightly unnerving factor.

He reached out, and after a moment of hesitance, petted the beasts helm armour, which came with an interesting addition, a detachable helm guard, which wrapped around the beasts pointed audios, the lip at the front could be pushed forwards to cover the beasts slit optics.

The beast perked up, letting off a chuffing noise at it leant into the touch.

Honestly, Bumblebee had been shocked at how… tame the beast was, all chuffs and huffs, tail wagging up a storm despite the giant blade like stinger that appeared from the second to last piece of armour on the beast’s tail.

He’d been just, window shopping when he noticed a petshop was getting a rather large delivery.

He’d gone to investigate, and after a bit of a wait, the owner of the shop, had dragged the beast into a holding area, Bumblebee had purchased the giant beast on the spot, shocking the much larger mech, who’d had to drag the beast through the shop, it’s massive talons schreeching as it tried to fight the pull.

Clearly the cybernetic beast was much happier following him, so, he kept going, taking another step, the beast ambling at a slow walk, it’s massive strides far longer than his own.

Bumblebee’s attention left his pet at the next shrill screech of someone noticing the beast on the other end of the leash he was holding.

He’d hate to return the beast, but if all the fun he got to have, was seeing those around him react to the giant beast, then it was worth the shanix he figured.

If the others, namely Ratchet, he didn’t care what Zeta wanted, let him keep the beast, he’d have to come up with a name for the beast, which was a him, something good.

Now it was just a matter of convincing the others to let him keep it.

“CYGER!” Someone shouted someway ahead.

And again Bumblebee chuckled, he couldn’t understand it really, his new pet was so… docile, like a well trained Cyber hound, only, much, much bigger.

Oh, and known for being Cybertronian eaters… back when all the Cygers weren’t locked away and domesticated-ish.

How the sweet slag had he forgotten that?

Ratchet was going to fragging murder him.

By some miracle, Ratchet didn’t slag him for using their teams funds to buy a Cyger, he cursed the minibot out about it, or at least tried to.

The Cyger made itself known again when Ratchet reached for a wrench, the growl it let off more a… chastise… over a threat of attack, and it cowed Ratchet into stepping away from the wrench covered bench… somehow…

Bulkhead, surprisingly, was absolutely enamoured by the giant beast, comenting how hard it was to get ‘such a nice balance of the primaries’, whatever that meant.

He, Bulk, and surprisingly the Cyger’s, it’s optics suddenly going wide like as if it was still a little kit and not taller at the shoulder than both him and Ratchet, were all able to convince the old war vet, that, though unorthodox, a pet Cyger would be a good guard pet for his ‘precious ship’.

Bumblebee even cited the reactions he got when he’d walked the Cyger back to the dock they had the ship parked in, refuelling for another run out to fix another bridge.

Within a cycle, the Cyger was well established, he never followed one of them for long, but when the congregated on the bridge, he’d be there two, flopped over on his side, tail wagging lazily as hazed blue optics followed the mechs, listening to them speak, but not really understanding any of what they were saying, or even the language really.

Well no, he knew what they were saying, he had enough sentience for that, just not what really to do with it, and how he should react to it.

So, he did what his base coding told him, make sure his colony was happy.

Bumblebee was easy, just chuff and huff and rub up against the mech till he fell over, laughing at the absurdity of a Cyger really acting like an overgrown Cyline.

Bulkhead liked to pet him, he was big enough to not have to worry about the larger mechs cumbersome servos crushing him, in fact, when the mech was paying attention, he was a really good at it, even knew what spots to avoid.

Which was primarily, his paws, the plating over his simple spark, and the plating that covered his interface array.

The last of which, Ratchet had learned not to go near, after having tried to check if the Cyger.

The scratches weren’t deep, but the surprising amount of fear and wariness in the Cyger’s hazed optics was enough to convince Ratchet that it was probably better not to see if the Cyger had been… fully domesticated.

Within a few joors though, the Cyger was right back to sniffing stuff in the med bay, giving the old medic a chance to ramble of explanations, it was nice sometimes just to talk about his tools, the ones he still had.

He wasn’t blind, he noticed that the Cyger had spotted the missing part of his arms armour.

The look in the Cyger’s optics had been one of a strange… sympathy, not quite there, but enough to read.

It somewhat unnerved the medic to see such a… advanced expression on a creature of sentience like a Cyger, yes they were self aware creatures, yes they were as alive as he was, but they… they didn’t have the processors for that level of emotion…

Unless he was just confused and going on his basic, run of the foundry understanding of Cyger’s, and they were all just collectively a bit sharper in the processor than many gave them credit for.

It was all going well enough, they all forgot their Captain hadn’t yet returned from his own ‘rendezvous’ with the city of Polyhex.

 Until he did, that is.

Zeta, none of them would ever actually refer to him by his title, was furious.

He threw an absolute fit, yelling all sorts of threats at the small yellow mech for ‘brazen miss-use of funds’, and other such slag they’d all worked through much more calmly.

The Cyger, evidently, did not like Zeta, the mech received no love from the Cyger, not that he even tried to show any back.

When the Cyger whimpered his way to Ratchet, the blade like stinger at the end of his tail missing, the stump sparking, and a good chunk of the tail itself flattened, it wasn’t difficult to guess the culprit.

The blade couldn’t be found, so Ratchet had to put the Cyger under, and just remove the rest of it properly, leaving a flat, weapon-less tail, that, upon waking and realising what he’d lost, the Cyger had just, shut down for a time.

At least, until Bumblebee flopped down against the Cyger’s side, and scratched the massive beast under the chin, perking the Cyger right back up.

It wasn’t spoken, but it was obvious that the Cyger, who still hadn’t been designated when they took off for the next job, was now avoiding Zeta like the red rust.

Which was fine with the less than liked captain, who amused himself by bossing around the two younger bots and trying to get on the old veterans sensors, primarily by trying to toy with the ships systems. ‘Make it go faster.’ ‘Still can’t believe you didn’t let me install a holo-screen’. And so on and so forth.

It got to the point that the three mechs actually started just… venting, to the Cyger, still not designated, but not for lack of Bumblebee trying, he just couldn’t find a designation for the life of him that stuck.

 The Cyger, surprisingly, or really, unsurprisingly, at this point, was a very good listener, and seemed to follow their vents well enough to react with similar emotions.

Zeta kicked the ships controls again? The Cyger would curl up around Ratchet’s pedes, and just listen as the mech vented out his frustrations on the latest little gizmo he worked one to keep his servos active.

It kept him from pulling at his old war wound.

Zeta called Bulkhead a bumbling foo, or some other unpleasant thingl? The Cyger would be chuffing and rumbling a storm, driving out those harsh words with the soothing rumble.

And whenever Bumblebee was given the worst jobs to do? Specifically because Zeta took offense to him buying the Cyger in the first place? They’d race in the lower level of the ship, Bumblebee always won in his alt mode, but he swore that was because the Cyger always seemed to trip, or stumble, or suddenly run out of endurance just before the finish line when he took the lead.

Bumblebee actually tried to talk about that to the Cyger, convince the beast that, no, he didn’t want an easy win, he wanted the Cyger to help him go even faster.

The Cyger apparently took it to spark, and now, Bumblebee was now really having to push himself to keep his title as the fastest member of the small team.

Within two Orns, it was almost like the Cyger had always been there.

Zeta still hated the Cyger something foul, but after an attempt to throw the beast out of the Air-lock whilst it recharged backfired, mostly because the airlock refused to open, and Ratchet finally reached the end of what could be considered his patience, and threatened to space the captain himself, considering the ship was technically his, not Zeta’s.

Since then, the Captain hadn’t made anymore attempts to harm or remove the Cyger, but the animosity still festered.

The Cyger himself seemed to be relatively unaffected by this, focusing on either recharging in places Zeta couldn’t reach, like hidden away in the engine room, or in the cargo bay, or Ratchet’s medbay.

When the giant beast wasn’t resting, he was prowling the halls, sniffing and huffing at everything and rubbing his flanks against everything, marking his territory when Zeta couldn’t see and get defensive.

And when work had to be done on a Spacebridge?

Turns out the Cyger was very much a helpful servo so to speak.

Primarily working with Bulkhead, all the larger mech had to do was point, and the Cyger would tear larger space debris to shavings, the hooked claws normally hidden away easily sharp enough to cleave through the vast majority of what blocked up the giant portal generators.

It certainly sped up the process of getting to the mechanical work.

As was the routine, Zeta would stay on the ship, not even paying attention to the work, and rarely giving a Scraplets aft if the conditions were even safe to work.

They all knew this, they all accepted that that wouldn’t change, and that they had to just keeping each other as safe as they could whilst they work.

It was on one of these more dangerous cycles when Bulkhead and the Cyger were having to fight against a small asteroid field, that had been bombarding the bridge they were now at, that Bulkhead’s wrecking ball swung wide after bouncing off an especially large piece, that it crashed into what looked to be a hollow rock.

Almost instantly, the Cyger perked up, and jumped away from his teammate, bounding to the hollow rock, huffing and sniffing as his whiskers bounced, picking up even the faintest of electro-magnetic signals.

Claws scrabbled against the rock for a moment, before purchase was found and the Cyger managed to force himself inside.

This whole incident flew completely past the others of the crew, too busy trying to prevent any more damage to the Spacebridge.

That is, until a scream came from that very same hole.

One that caught Bumblebee, who was closests, attention, in a moment he’d abandoned his position, and raced over, clambering up himself as best as he could to see what had caused that noise.

What he saw, surprised him.

In the hole, no, cave, was his Cyger, practically flattened to the ground whining, tail tip flicking as his hazed blue eyes kept staring at the other entity in the cave.

A black and gold motorcycle former with a blue visor, three pointed throwing weapons primed and ready to fight.

Realising this mech could actively hurt his pet, Bumblebee called out. “Hey! Hey! Leave him alone!” He called, catching both of their attentions, he was too busy trying to get through the hole to notice the shock on the bots face, or really hear the happy chuff coming from his pet, but once he’d less than gracefully fallen flat on his aft and looked up, he was able to better see the situation.

The cave was lived in, somewhat, there was a small stash of energon cubes, a few small trinkets and other weapons, and outside of the hole in the cave, what looked to be an exit had been blocked up.

Had the mech planned to slowly offline in here?

Creepy.

Before he could speak, his Cyger was on him, chuffing happily and giving him a lick with that rough glossa, taking some of his paint with it, he didn’t bother complain, his Cyger just liked to be affectionate.

“Hey! Hey, no, down… good Cyger.” He petted the side of his pets helm when it gave him room again, allowing him to look over to the other mech and gestured to himself. “Bumblebee, and this…” He gestured to the Cyger. “Is my pet, so put the weapon down, he ain’t gonna hurt you.”

The other mech didn’t look convinced, at all.

Bumblebee couldn’t help it, he smirked. “What’s the matter? Scared of a little Cyber-kit?”

The black and gold mech scowled. “Does your processor malfunction? That’s a Cyger.”

Bumblebee gave the mech a surprised expression, looked back at the giant metal beast, who’s helm was level with his own. “Oh? I didn’t notice, he’s cool, see, hey, pet, do the thing.”

The ‘thing’, was the Cyger opening those massive jaws as wide as they’d go, baring the rows of serrated fangs within.

Bumblebee smirked at the bot, and stuck his servo into that open maw.

The Cyger didn’t even twitch.

“See? He’s completely tame.”

The other bot just looked at Bumblebee like he was out of his mind.

Bumblebee just rolled his optics. “Fine, don’t believe me, come on, we need to go back to work, or Zeta will have even more to shout at us for… Err… Pet?”

The Cyger didn’t follow, still looking intently at the other mech, tail thumping on the ground.

Then the Cyger looked at him. “Mmmrroww?”

Bumblebee shuttered his optics a few times and looked at the Cyger. “Huh?”

Whatever had just passed between them, brought his pet to a decision, the Pet slunk up to the mech,and then reared up onto his hind pedes, causing the giant Cyger to tower over the over mech.

Within a few moments, the Cyger had the mech by the scruff bar, and was waddling the mech back over to the hole in the cave and climbing back out, completely ignoring the mechs protests.

It took Zeta four cycles to notice the new, somewhat aloof and less than amused member of the crew.

But by that point, there was no turning around, not that Zeta would, another pair of servos meant work got done quicker, and he could have them take on more jobs, meaning he’d get paid more, a win in his logs, so, he just ignored the matter, though sent the Cyger another foul look when he overheard it was the beasts doing.

It mattered little, the Cyger had already gotten into Prowl’s spark, and the mech wasn’t so keen on going anywhere else anymore, not that the Cyger would probably let him.

The Cyger was practically preening, another member, his colony was one stronger now, this was good, the bigger the colony, the happier the colony.

And when his colony was happy? He was happy.

[vespertine-legacy]

Fictober 2019 Day 7

Prompt #23. “You can’t give more than yourself.”

Fandom: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Game)

Rating: General

Warnings: none?

Characters: Bastila Shan, Mission Vao

Tags: aaaaaaaaangst and some fluff, Bastila & Mission friendship

(follow up to what I wrote for Prompt #20)

 When Bastila finishes speaking, Mission takes her hands gently. “B… When are you gonna tell Revan?”

 “How can I?” Bastila looks at the floor between them rather than meeting Mission’s eyes.

 After a long pause, Mission stands, pulling at Bastila’s arms until she stands too. “C’mon, we’re gonna take a walk.”

Bastila follows in resignation as Mission leads her toward the ship’s exit ramp. As they pass HK-47 and Canderous in the work bay, the droid and the Mandalorian both look up, and Mission mutters something about getting air. The Ebon Hawk is on the Rakatan world of Lehon, and when Mission and Bastila step off of the ramp, the night air is cool and crisp. Mission leads Bastila along the beach, past a number of Republic ships, until they reach a more secluded inlet. In the distance, troops can be heard still celebrating the recent victory over the Star Forge and the Imperial troops.

 Mission sits on a large rock and pulls her boots and socks off, dangling her legs into the water. Bastila stands back from the water’s edge several feet, watching. Leaning back until she is looking at Bastila upside-down, lekku trailing against the sand, Mission motions for Bastila to join her. Bastila hesitantly removes her boots and socks, leaving them against a stump where the sand still seems dry, rolls up her pants legs, and pads out through the wet sand to the rock.

 When Bastila eases down onto the rock beside her, Mission swings back upright. They sit in companionable silence for several moments, staring out across the water and enjoying the warmth of the surf against their legs.

 Mission leans against Bastila. “Why can’t you tell her? You told me.”

 Bastila looks down into her lap for a long moment, considering her words. “I failed her, Mission. I was meant to protect her from the dark side, and keep her safe. And then I was so...weak. I chose Malak over her, Mission. I did terrible things for him. The Republic nearly lost because of me. Revan could have died because of me.”

 “You put a lot on yourself, you know that, right?” Mission looks hard at the side of Bastila’s face until Bastila returns her gaze. “Revan can look out for herself, and you’re not responsible for the entire Republic.”

 “That’s very easy for you to say, Mission.”

 “B, shut up, I’m not done.” Mission ignores Bastila’s look of indignation, and offers Bastila her hand, which she is too stunned not to take. “You can’t give her more than yourself. But you need to at least give her that.”

 Bastila searches and fails to find a rebuttal several times before sighing in frustration and resting her head on Mission’s shoulder. They sit this way for a long time, until Mission begins to shiver against the night air. They collect their boots and walk shoulder to shoulder, barefoot and carrying their shoes. At the ramp, Bastila embraces Mission briefly before heading to the portside crew quarters to find Revan.

 She is not ready to tell Revan everything yet, but maybe she can at least tell her why not, and that will at least be a start. She cannot give Revan more than herself, but she can at least give her that.

[dragonnan]

Untitled Endgame Reboot - WIP

Because aside from being heartbreaking, Endgame had flaws that whole solar systems could fall through.  I’m by no means perfect in my writing; but I hope the journey I’m offering helps those of us left clinging to ash when we should have been celebrating.  

❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ 

He didn't know how he'd dragged himself away from the cracked and blackened earth.  Everything smelled like ash and blood overlaid by the cold metal stink of ozone.  Familiar, at least.  There were days, crawling from his suit, where that was all he could smell for hours.

Everything around him was so still. Had they really just been fighting the greatest battle in the history of existence?  Now it just looked like the fallout from Ren Fest.  At least, this time, they didn't have to deal with giant dead space dragons rotting on his lawn.  One snap and everything cleans up like a song.  Handy trick, that gauntlet.  Could turn anyone into Mary Poppins.  Too bad the side effect was so...

Tony blinked hard but the dark edging into his vision didn't ease.

It was over; they'd won.  Over and over repeating in his head.  They'd won.  They'd done it, they'd won. Even in pain; where nerve endings were still alive and screaming – screaming...  Whatever the cost to him it was worth it.  He'd pay any cost to himself.  He'd pay his life; had been for nearly a decade.  Ever since New York.  

Funny; that didn't scare him, now.  New York.  He wondered, anymore, what possibly could.  Ding, dong, the witch was dead.  It had only cost... everything...

Worth it...

Right, people were talking to him.  In theory.  He wasn't certain as he couldn't hear a thing.  Or... maybe they couldn't speak.  He was still trying to work that out when Peter...  The kid was sobbing.  Tony wanted to hug him again.  He hadn't wanted to let go in the first place.  Was this what letting go felt like?

Pepper.  Oh baby, I'm sorry...

She was speaking but it was muffled. Just... barely...

“...ony...”

“Tony...”

“It's going to be okay...”

He wanted to smile at her but he couldn't move his face.  Couldn't move anything.  God, he was tired...

“Hey... babe...”  That was enough to get a smile, at least.  It used to be so much harder...

“Out of the way!”  Tony couldn't turn his head but then it didn't matter as Pepper was suddenly gone – replaced by... “I need to get him out of here now!  There's no time!”

Tony managed to frown.  He thought. Hard to tell when he couldn't feel his lips.  “Wussah... point? I'm... dead.”

Strange shook his head and started waving his arm; a portal bursting alive in front of him.  “You aren't dead, yet, but you are dying.”  

Tony cringed at the quavering hands reached towards him “...don't touch...!” but contact was never made.  Rather, another complex arrangement of scarred fingers and the stone at his back was melting away; easing him into a slow recline that still opened fire in his bones and led to screaming he couldn't quite connect to himself.

“Mantis!”  Stephen's shout was another muffle of chaotic sound as Tony's hearing gave along with many of his other senses; pain, looming death; there was a grab bag of reasons to choose and they likely all played a part.  Which was why, as the cute girl with bug ears leaned over him, there was a second of panicked startle before her warm fingers rested against his temple.

“No pain...”  The soft command flowed through his brain like the ocean.  He was in his lab; leaning over a holo model of his latest prototype; something for the kid in a, likely, useless attempt to keep him in one piece.  Bruce was stopping by in a few to brainstorm on an upgrade for the Hulkbuster 3.2 but, for the moment, Tony was alone.  It was nice.  He couldn't remember when he'd been this relaxed.  In fact, his last worry had been... huh...  He couldn't remember.  But, then, he didn't care. And then Pepper was knocking on his glass with a fresh cup of coffee and he smiled.

❂

The surgery was dicey before they'd even begun; not that Stephen could offer anything beyond consulting. He could go toe to toe with the greatest threat of the multiverse but he still couldn't hold a scalpel without trembling.  Stabilizing Tony had first involved restarting his heart; something Stephen could manage in spite of his nerve damage.  There was nothing fine-tuned about violent chest compressions.  And then it became an endless repeat of getting a rhythm only to lose it; adrenalin and paddles employed before he had to perform chest compressions a second time. While this was going on, Wong had been tasked with finding Helen Cho. The last anyone knew, she'd moved back to Seoul after a year at the Avengers compound.  No idea where she was, currently.  The world in chaos and fifty percent chance she'd been one of the dead.  Stephen had had no moment for relief when Wong had returned, eight minutes after walking through the portal, with Doctor Cho rushing ahead of him.

“Is he stable?”  Scrubbing in, she held out her hands for gloves while Stephen stepped back to give her space.  Tony was stable only in the loosest sense, his vitals all at dangerous levels and already beginning to worsen again.  Seeing this for herself, Cho shook her head.  “Doesn't matter.  We can't save him.”  She looked up at Stephen.  “Not here.”

Alarms sounded through the surgical bay from the moment the leads were attached.  Kidney function, liver, all tanking.  First priority; stop the bleeding.  Tony's system had already been compromised through years of exposure to a variety of toxins; not the least of which had been the palladium poisoning.  His long history of alcohol abuse hadn't done him any favors, either. However, it was the 6.2 centimeter gash along the lower lobe of his liver that was the immediate and most pressing threat.  Heartbeat still irregular, they had just finished with the final suture when it stilled.  With the distortions to Tony's sternum and ribs, due to the arc reactor that had once filled that space, the decision was made to crack his chest.  Doctor Forrest held the organ between his small hands and began to manually massage.  

Standing to the side; grating in his uselessness, Stephen fiddled his fingers against his thighs and moved attention between Forrest's hands and the graph on the monitor. Second after second after second.  He licked his lips; vision tunneled.  Was Tony's soul, even now, breaking free from his body? Stephen had seen 14,000,605 possible futures.  But after Thanos' defeat, the outcomes had branched.  Not even the Ancient One could claim a perfect view of future events; only the possibilities. Stephen had seen a multitude of outcomes for Tony.  What happened, now, hinged on the next 13 seconds.

Time ticked down.

12

11

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

…

“We've got rhythm.  Still erratic.” The small, internal, defibrillator paddles were placed on either side of the struggling organ.  At the call of clear, a pulse was sent to the paddles.  They waited...

“Rhythm's holding steady.  Let's close and move on to the next brush fire.”

    There had been no hesitation with their next decision once his heart stopped stopping.  Amputation.  His right arm had been effectively fried; his fingers a curled and blackened claw.  If left much longer, the cooked limb would kill him just as easily as his temperamental heart.  The only question, now, was where to make the incision.  After a short debate, they settled for above the elbow; though there was some push for shoulder disarticulation.  Enough living tissue remained, however, to leave him with one functioning joint.  Just enough...

With a laser saw, the bone was cut through and the destroyed limb laid in a large tray for disposal. Arranging the remaining muscle and suturing the stump took longer than the removal itself.  Soon enough, however, it was dressed with an additional sterile stocking pulled in place to allow for drainage tubes.

And then it was on to the next disaster.

❂

14 hours and 17 minutes.  The waiting room had been overtaken by family and friends when Stephen finally shuffled from surgery; as beat as he'd ever been after a long procedure and he'd done very little, in this instance.  There was a time his ego would have balked at that.  Now, he only felt heartsick that he couldn't have been more useful.

Ms. Potts was the first to approach him; the rest of the crowd turning to face him as he stopped near the rack of magazines.

It was only Pepper, however, that he looked at as he spoke his first words since entering surgery; voce rasping and dry.

“He's alive.”