#Sworn enemies

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.4

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - Caught and immobilized by her sworn enemy, the Blackwood heir, Shanda struggles to turn the night into anything resembling a successful mission.

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, mentions of violence, adult language, period typical misogyny, unaddressed sexual tension, condescension, benjicot brainrot, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count- 2.2k

!MinorsDNI!

Ahoy, I have returned. I can’t stop thinking about this story. I dreamed I was writing it in my sleep 😅 now with unacknowledged sexual undertones!

Shanda sputtered and coughed, gagging on the leaves and mud as she lay confined on the ground. Her shoulders were throbbing from the force of being pulled backwards and her wet cloak began to chaf around her neck. Benjicot was heavy against her back as he let her struggle for air. All she could think was, Martyns going to kill me. Which was somehow morbidly funny to her considering, the real threat was here, now.

“I knew you’d come back.” He muttered, his voice soft against her ear.

He removed the knife from her neck and using her hood, pulled her head up mercifully allowing her to finally breathe. Her airway clear, she gasped. Rain splattered against her upturned face, as she watched the needles of moisture falling. From this angle the rain seemed infinite, the expanse of clouds another kingdom of its own. She decided if he was going to kill her, this was as good of a view to die to as any. She could feel his warm breath against the side of her face. And for a moment they both just lay there, breathing heavily.

“Who are you?” He demanded at last, painfully squeezing her wrists and pulling sharply making her shoulder scream out in agony. But she did not budge, she bit the inside of her cheek as hard as she could to keep from crying out. She knew her best shot at turning this situation around meant he had to let go of her. Telling him anything was out of the question though, instead she planned to piss him off enough for him to try and cart her off to Raventree. She was a wanted ‘criminal’ after all. If he loosened his hold even a little bit, she could work with that.

He snaked the arm he’d used to pull her head up tightly around her exposed neck and began to squeeze. Her heart pounded in her ears, blood rushing to her face as he slowly began to cut off her precious air supply again. She struggled against him but it was a fruitless effort, her vision wavered. He was really going to kill her, she thought as the world around her grew dimmer. Then just as quickly he released his hold, and she panted sucking air in anew.

“That’s it, breathe.”

Shanda shivered barely hearing the continued stream of dialogue he was cooing at her. She was too busy trying to orient herself, her head was spinning. And when she settled into a semi normal breathing pattern, he started again.

Whispering in an infuriatingly sweet voice he said, “Who are you?”

She groaned frustrated and tried again to pitch her body away from him. The heir continued babbling while she wore herself out attempting to break free.

“Come on, it's an easy question. Or have you forgotten your name already?”

His soft tone was at odds with the arm slowly crushing her windpipe again. The heir to Raventree was fucking insane she decided. He continued to talk to her, mocking as she felt her consciousness falling away. Her whole body was tingling from lack of oxygen and she felt like laughing.

This time when he allowed her to breathe a pathetic whimper escaped her. She felt weaker, chest heaving and horribly vulnerable in a way she never had before. And she began to suspect he had no intention of killing her.

“What about now hm?” He hummed using his hand to delicately stroke her neck.

It seemed as if he were the only person in existence. Her head was swimming and she couldn’t remember what he’d even asked her.

“Just your name, that’s all. You can do that can’t you?”

Unwilling to let him choke her again she blurted her name out.

“Shanda.”

No harm there, it wasn’t an unheard of name in the river lands and she’s already exposed her gender last night. It was her last name she needed to keep under wraps.

“You can speak, that’s wonderful. Good job.”

Her mind was sharpening back up and she bristled at his response.

“Now, how about you answer my question from last night? What are you doing here, in the borderlands spying?”

A name was nothing to give away. But she definitely couldn’t tell him that. Panic began to bubble up inside her as he sighed, saying, “And we were making such good progress.” Before his hand wrapped back around her throat. He was going to torture every last word out of her if she didn’t do something. Her mind turned a mile a minute while it begged for air. Come on, why would I be here? But forming coherent thoughts is hard to do without breathing. Her vision went black.

Shanda came back around to the sound of her own moaning. A deplorable and pitiful sound. Had she passed out? She slowly blinked her eyes back open, the terrible realization that she was still held captive dawning on her.

“Welcome back.”

Her resistance was waning. She wasn’t trained or prepared for a situation like this. She was a decent fighter because she’d grown up around too many brothers for her parents to stop her. One of them was always sneaking her out and helping her practice. But that didn’t mean she was encouraged in the endeavor or given any proper education. Women had life done to them, they didn’t get to decide. So laying there, sworn enemy at her back, she admitted half truths.

“Why does anyone spy? Information.” Her voice was small and hoarse, barely audible over the rain.

“And what would you do with the information?”

“Use it.” She bit out. This night was turning out to be more useless than the last.

Blackwood’s hand cupped her cheek and she was too tired to pull away.

“Don’t be daft.” He said sharply then switched his tone back to the fraudulently sugared one he’d been using. “Tell me who you’re spying for.”

Left with no alternative, she decided to ramp up pissing him off.

“How about you tell me what the fucks wrong with you? You’re a sick man, I guess they’ll let any old brute be heir at Raventree. Though you can’t be too good at it or else you wouldn’t be out here assau-“

A stinging slap cut her words off and she hissed in pain. His hand was back around her throat, threatening. It only slowed her down for a moment.

“See? Pathetic behavior. Do you feel better about yourself now?”

Finally, she was given a lucky break when he released her wrist, allowing her arms to come to rest on the ground. Before the feeling had even begun to move back into them, he used the hand around her neck to push her backwards. Her legs still pinned, her back arched, pushing her stomach hard into the ground. Her arms were shaking as they tried to support her in the awkward angle. With his other freshly freed hand, he hit her again much harder and she cried out.

“I do feel better now. And when you tell where you came from, I’ll feel phenomenal, baby.”

Shanda ignored him, her hands working to open her side strapped bag without him noticing.

“Wouldn’t it be better to tell me now rather than the guards at Raventree? They won’t be half so gentle as I am.”

She located the buckle and slowly worked it open.

“Besides, a fragile little thing like you shouldn’t be out here in the first place.”

His continued lecturing was adding to her growing frustration but she pushed him out of her head as best she could, while flipping the flap of the bag open.

“Whoever sent you out here can’t care about you. Better you tell me who it was, i’ll set them straight on where a lady like you should stay put.” His hand was back to stroking her neck.

Didn’t he have real duties to perform? She nearly snorted at his words, little did he know he and her father shared the same sentiment on a woman’s place. But both were fools so what did they know? She locked her hands around the raw onions she’d stuffed in the, carefully pulling the peels back. Wrapped up in his own hubris, he did not see the onions until she’d managed to reach up and rub them into his eyes. Knowing that wouldn’t be enough to get the crazed man off of her she aggressively jerked her fingers into his eyes.

“You little -“

Shanda didn’t hear the rest of his sentence, he’d dropped his hands away from her in pain. And she had done what she did best, slammed her head into his, knocked him into the mud and ran. Though not before grabbing her bow and blessedly, the knife he’d dropped. She was moving as quickly as possible, her plans abandoned. The only thought in her mind being, don’t let him catch me. She chanted it like a prayer and maybe it was. She kept a better eye out for the traps she’d set. She was nearly out of the copse of trees and feeling slightly better about it.

There were still miles of land in between her and Stone Hedge and she couldn’t lead him there. She could hear him behind her fast on her heels. But this was the Bracken side of the river and she knew it better than he ever could have hoped to. She dashed over known holes and led him into the sinking mud, slowing him further and further down. Back on equal footing she gained a bit of confidence back, maybe this night wouldn’t be a complete waste.

As they ran out into the wet night she started to lead him into the series of snares she’d set. The first triggered beautifully, catching him long enough to throw him off of his momentum and releasing just as fast to send him stumbling into the next one. The next snare caught his legs tripping him and to her immense relief he triggered the last snare, which wrapped the dormant net around him. Tangled and confused, he thrashed for a moment while she circled back to him. Grabbing him by the head she slammed her knee into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. Then she quickly grabbed his hands, wrestling with him to tie them up. She knew the net wouldn’t hold him and she wasn’t confident about the ropes either once she secured them.

Angrier than a wet hen, she screamed at him.

“Oh you pretentious, unconscionable, worthless man! I should kill you.”

Then she kicked him as hard as she could in the stomach, satisfied when he doubled over in pain. She didn’t like violence but it felt good to not have him laughing or belittling her.

“I’ll tell you where I’m from Blackwood.” She spat, pacing in front of him feeling unhinged. “I’m from the shadow of your ruin. When all of your life falls to pieces and the name of your house fades from history it’ll be mine that they call out. I’m here to put an end to the ignoble suffering your kind inflicts upon the riverlands. I’m the bane of Blackwoods and the menace on the Redfork.”

He was silent as she dug around in her bag. The rain was slowly starting to break up and she didn’t want to take the chance of running home with the bag of fat trimmings. Instead she pulled them out and began handing them off of the man on the ground, twisting his wrists together. She had no doubt soon he’d be free but she planned to be long gone by then. She hoped if nothing else, a wolf might answer the smell and terrorize him all the way back to Raventree.

Before she left she turned to him to say, “This fragile lady, is going to ruin your life Blackwood.”

Then she was gone, running through the muddy grass running opposite of the way she was meant to be. She would need to run for a while to throw him off in the event he followed then she would double back, before sneaking into the back gates of Stone Hedge. While she ran her mind turned over the peculiar situation she found herself in.

The wind had picked up as the rain died down, and the night slipped into nautical twilight. The clouds swirled overhead, growing lighter the closer it approached dawn. Her body was sore beyond belief and she didn’t relish the long run home. She would arrive at dawn though which was lucky, she wouldn’t have to tell Martyn how monumentally she’d fucked up. It was clear now that Benjicot Blackwood was not like other nobel men, he was more astute. He’d managed to throw her off guard too many times. The next time they met, she hoped to spend less time on the ground.

She stared out at the ocean of grass and the forest hills in the distance. She loved the river lands and didn’t intend to ever leave them. Making the Blackwood threat her utmost priority and they were a worthy threat beyond petty rivalry. She began to double back, starting the long journey home and as she did she sent up another prayer. Let me be known. Please let me bring the Bracken name back to a point of pride. I’ll fight at the warriors alter until my last breath, just let me fix this.

[genkii05]

MARIO & BOWSER ‼️🔥

[ssaraexposs]

Bungo Stray Dogs // SHIN SOUKOKU // Episode 10

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Silvergifting - March

Written for my dear reader MoonLord :D (again)

Oh, this one is violent and dark. Please be advised!

Prompts: “Look at me! - Sacrifice - Sworn Enemy

Pairing: Annatar x Celebrimbor

Words: 1015

Warnings: blood, torture, sadness, fear, flaying, mutilation, manipulation, cruelty

“Tell me where they are!” Annatar enunciated, a frown forming on his luminous brow.

Something about Tyelpë’s face irked him, and it took a moment for him to understand that his former lover looked positively ugly.

Tired, injured, and visibly terrified, Celebrimbor was far from the suave smith and comely cub that had almost managed to capture Annatar’s petrified heart.

His skin was blotchy, and his eyes were bloodshot as he writhed, naked and sweating profusely, against the cold steel that held him.

In many shockingly dispassionate ways, he reminded his finally revealed enemy of the horses the Children rode into battle, and which ran themselves ragged before being “delivered” by a merciful blade.

For darling Tyelpë, there would, of course, be no such mercy before he’d not given up the secret he so stubbornly tried to withhold from one immeasurably more powerful and terrible than he could even imagine.

By nature and design, Annatar himself had no notion of ugliness—even his unchained anger and boundless hatred only gilded him and, if anything, made him even more unbearably, uncannily beautiful.

Indeed, the flush of ire in his cheeks and the flash of calculating disdain in his eyes only heightened his bewitching pulchritude, and this alone seemed to further distress his headstrong captive if his frantic squirming against unbreakable bonds was any indication.

No, the hideousness of rage and fear was something Annatar had learned and studied throughout the ages.

“Hey, look at me,” he purred, lifting Celebrimbor’s head—lolling feebly to and fro—by the deceivingly tender touch of a single finger. “Tell me where those silly, inconsequential rings you made, according to my design and thanks to my help, are, and I’ll let you go. We could even try to rekindle…”

His lips curled into a petulant moue of displeasure when Celebrimbor gave a raucous, brittle, distinctly derisive chuckle.

“Or not,” Annatar continued smoothly. “It doesn’t matter. Just tell me where you’ve taken them!”

The light—once so compellingly bright and pure—within the young Elf was failing fast now; already it seemed reduced to a single flickering point of defiance within his otherwise dull gaze, and Annatar gave a long, regretful sigh.

“I’ve known your great-grandfather,” he said with an impish smirk. “And your grandfather…and Fëanáro, of course.”

As he spoke, Annatar let his long, slender fingers touch the steel construction onto which he had affixed Celebrimbor’s painfully stretched-out limbs. In honour and mockery of his heritage, Annatar—who had once been Mairon, The Admirable—had returned to his own roots and had handcrafted a beautiful eight-pointed star such as the boy’s grandfather had elected as his sigil.

A muted grunt that Annatar could not quite interpret escaped his captive at that.

“Let it sink in,” Annatar purred. “Understand who and what I am—what I’ve seen, what I’ve done, what terrible and wonderful power I wield!”

Even if the incarnates, quick to forget the lessons their ancestors had carved out of history by blood and suffering, seemingly invariably swallowed his disguise line, hook, and sinker, Annatar remembered everything.

“There is fire in your blood,” he whispered fervently. “It has been kindled within your line long before you were even a distant dream.”

Pressing his lips against Celebrimbor’s sweat-sheened temple, Annatar let some of that life-giving heat he’d carried within himself since before Arda had been created flow into the other’s fading being.

“I can keep you alive.” It was a promise. It was a threat. “I know what you need, and I shall give it to you while stripping you of everything else.”

Again, Celebrimbor merely moaned before clamping his pale, bloodless lips shut.

“As you wish…”

With deliberate, teasing precision, Annatar chose a sharp blade from his collection and made the first cut.

“I’ve perfected this technique on your uncle,” he explained cheerily as he splayed a warm, soothing hand against the concave, trembling stomach of his doomed paramour. “He was also such a sacrificial fool.”

As he meticulously severed ligaments and detached muscles, Annatar let his supreme energy flow in a steady, sustaining stream into Celebrimbor’s agonised body.

“He wouldn’t give up his secrets either,” he muttered, still peeved at the recollection of Maedhros’s laughable obstinacy. “Much good it did him.”

“He lived.”

“Not for long.”

Celebrimbor, even as he was divested of his pristine skin piece by piece, had the nerve to utter another guffaw that echoed like a scream through the empty chamber.

“You know nothing about time,” he ground out. “And you shall never learn where the rings are.”

“You’ll die a terrible death,” Annatar prophesied darkly.

The almost pitying gaze the moribund Elf gave him made the unveiled Maia bare his teeth in frustration.

“And I thought you knew my family,” Celebrimbor hissed. “As ever, you overestimate yourself. I am undaunted.”

For a while, Annatar continued his gruesome work in sullen silence. He kept that flayed grotesquery of his own making suspended on the very edge of death as he peeled back the layers of his beloved Tyelpë to reveal his sworn enemy.

That last insult had hit him harder and wounded his pride deeper than he’d anticipated, especially seeing the unequivocal power dynamic in which they presently found themselves.

Despite his instinctive reluctance, Annatar searched his near-perfect memory for hints and clues.

There were many things for which these pesky incarnates would die gladly, and he couldn’t decide which one was at stake presently.

Could it be a home Celebrimbor had never really had since leaving the Blessed Realm?

The idea of another lover was so outrageous that Annatar discarded it instantly—it was inconceivable to him that any other being, no matter how handsome or kind, might have eclipsed him in Tyelpë’s affections.

Family. The certainty hit the malicious Maia like his former Master’s icy breath—if there was one thing that turned even the most loquacious of Elves into unmoving stone, it surely was the safety and happiness of their kin.

“They’re all dead,” he spat distractedly.

“Well,” Celebrimbor breathed faintly. “Then the rings are lost, and you shall never retrieve them!”

-> Masterlist

Lots of love from me!

@fellowshipofthefics Here's a really dark one one!

[asongofmarvelanddc]

The cliffhanger you left us with in sworn enemies should me considered criminal activity

I know, I'm so sorry 😭😭😭 My most egregious crime fr!

But I HAVE been writing the next chapter so here's a sneak peek below:

Sworn Enemies PT 11 Sneak Peek

Alfred is still shaking when he enters the room. His eyes sting with unshed tears, small breaths escaping his lips in short gasps. Your body is lying on a table, motionless. He can’t even see the slight rise and fall of your chest to let him know you’re still breathing.

In a second, he turns away from the sight, his heart sinking into his stomach. She’s dead, he thinks, They’re both dead. The fear chokes him while shaking him to his core. He can’t bring himself to ask the physician anything. He’s crippled with fear.

“Your Grace,” the physician says and bows his head, but he speaks no further, waiting until he is addressed by his King.

Alfred curses the title he bears. Slowly, he glances at your seemingly lifeless body then back to the floor.

“How—” he pauses to clear his throat when the word comes out strangled, “How is she?”

The physician wipes his hand with a bloodied piece of cloth. “Her Grace was struck by two arrows — the more serious injuries amongst others. The arrow in her front was fairly simple to remove. The one in her back was the real task.”

The spindly man goes on a rather long-winded explanation of the surgery as he packs his tools away, occasionally stopping to brush back the dull, brown wisps of hair on his head. He seems impressed with his skills as he describes drawing the arrow up and out through your rib cage to avoid affecting the pregnancy.

All the while, Alfred doesn’t have the words to cut in.

“And my wife?” he swallows, “Will she recover?”

The physician tilts his head, “If she survives the next few days, then I can almost guarantee it.”

It isn’t the news Alfred hoped for, but it is better than he expected. He breathes a sigh of relief, and finally, he looks at you properly. Suddenly, you look to be in a peaceful sleep. Full of life, but resting. Then he looks at where your hands rest on your stomach and the sinking feeling returns.

“And the child?” his voice breaks, never taking his eyes off you, “Will my daughter live?”

This time, the physician sucks in a deep breath.

“Unfortunately, there is not much I can do but wait when it comes to your daughter. There has been no movement that I have observed so far,” he says, “I intend to watch for that over the next few days but as of right now…I’m afraid I cannot be certain that your child lives.”

Alfred swallows again, but this time, it’s to distract himself from the tears threatening to fall.

“Thank you, Wyllis. I’d like to be alone with my wife now.”

“Your Grace.” He bows and exits the room.

As soon as the door closes shut behind him, Alfred sinks to his knees on the floor, hands clasped together in front of him and his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“My Lord. Father. There is nothing on this Earth that you cannot do,” he begins, a slight tremor in his voice as he speaks, “No heartache that you cannot mend. No illness that you cannot heal.”

He briefly glances at you – so still. A whimper escapes him as he closes his eyes again and squeezes his hands together even tighter, as if doing so would mean he's praying harder.

“Please, Father. I cannot do this without her,” before he knows it the tears are flowing uncontrollably, his quiet sobs confined to the room, “Whatever price I must pay I shall pay it if only to see my wife again. To hold our child in my arms. I beg you to cover them in your protection. With your love. Your mercy. I beg you…bring her back to me, Lord.”

***

And there you have it! This is my first apology for the ridiculously long hiatus, please forgive me if you can ❤️😩

[gigglesis]

🐿️🐒

If you would please friend

Adding you to my banned list for games dear friend❤️

🐿: One spot which drives you nuts?

Tbh, I shouldn't really answer because I can't really eat nuts, but I digress. And this isn't my worst spot, just one that drives me up the wall (or "nuts" as they say). It depends on the method... but neck/shoulder area or.... no, I'll leave it at that lol.

🐒: Favourite Favorite spot for playful tickles?

Hhhmmmmmm that also depends buuuutttt I'm gonna say tummy/sides

Now scram❤️

Link

[sorthern]

Levi: looks at Kevin sassily passing by in the hallway

Kevin: looks at Levi with wrinkled nose

Levi: frowns and mimicks his expression

Kevin: gets really mad

Levi: smirks

Kevin: walks away in defeat

Also Kevin: returns with a rifle

[sleepystars-blurriedskies]

SHIT MY BIGGEST SUPPORTER GONE UHH FUCK UM GUYS I CAN MAKE U ART TOO I SWEAR GUYS COME BACK OH GOD

Hajd

[mustardkingcole]

Shut the internet down. Nothing will ever tops this

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRfdbtvK/

[dappermouth]

ibuprofen is a type of angel that can live inside a bottle in your house

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.3

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - Shanda has made her preparations as good as can be, now she ventures back out into the ceaseless storm to find and bait the Blackwood heir into a trap.

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, mentions of violence, adult language, liberties taken with weapon mechanics.

Word count - 2.5k

I’ve returned briefly!! Unfortunately even on this day of independence, I have work agony. So enjoy this wild cliffhanger. Ive altered a map of the riverlands taken from https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Red_Fork just to give an idea of where the conflict is taking place. I took the book descriptions into account when placing the castles. The green area outlined is the borderlands. I also didn’t have time to edit sry.

Martyn stood in front of Shanda, frowning. “I don’t think it’s a good plan.” He said finally.

“Duh, Martyn. We don’t have time for a good plan.” She rolled her eyes.

But her brother held firm. “Sorry, I meant it’s not even a passable plan.”

She pitched herself back on her bed groaning. They’d been at it for hours and every plan seemed flawed.

“You can’t let him get his hands on you again.” Martyns' gaze was hard. “I mean it, Shan. They don’t call him bloody ben for nothing.” The latest reports on the heir of Raventree insisted he could crush a man's head with his hands like a melon.

Shanda got up and began to pace, feeling like the frantic wind beating against her window. It was desperate to get in, and her to get out.

“I told you, I didn’t know it was him. And how could I? Once I realized who he was, I exclusively used evasive maneuvers. He caught me by surprise, that won’t happen again. Trust me.”

No one was more bitter about being caught than she was. Even if he had been a random guard, it was an insult that he’d ever gotten close enough to touch her. Shanda prided herself on her ability to slip through life mostly unseen. She put on the show well enough when required but she lived in the moments between walls. With the rush of her heart heavy in her head while she garnered the most precious resource, secrets. It was the only thing she had a real and true patience for. She could lie in wait for days unaffected, ready at a moment's notice. That is, given its worth her time. Plenty of people knew a profusion of particulars, the problem came in deciding which particulars mattered. Currently, and for so many years it's hard to keep count honestly, it’s been Blackwood information. Nasty business is secret dealing though unfortunately and she would always prefer hearing it firsthand.

“Take the bow, set up a snare in the copse, and for the love of the seven don’t let him sneak up on you.”

Martyn had taken up residence on her bed, lounging without a care as he prepared her to sneak into “neutral” territory.

According to the latest edict passed down from Riverrun, a league was to separate the two lands. The borderlands was more or less two and a half leagues. Because of this there was still continued, heated debate over the real border of the two lands. The copse was smack in the middle of the two opposing sides. It was as truly neutral as it could between the two houses. And considering she’d just rolled around in a mud fight last night, it wasn’t exactly being recognized as such.

“You’re quick enough to evade him but you suck at hunting.” Now laying upside down, Martyn was fiddling with the tassel attached to the bed hanging. “I don’t know the borderlands like you, so I can’t think up a misdirection for you but that’s your best shot at snaring him.”

The current plan included some iteration of her being seen, a subsequent chase and ideally, a Blackwood trussed up. They didn’t have a good backup plan though so in the event that failed she’d book it home or find a good hiding spot to wait it out. And there were so many ways it could go wrong. Martyn had bribed another guard to switch shifts with him, in case she got stuck out longer than expected. The mainest objective of tonight was to find and bring the dagger she’d borrowed home or else the armory was going to start asking question they couldn’t answer. Not truthfully or without a raging argument anyway.

“Use your anonymity to your advantage, sow dissent around the other houses. They’ll be fine combing everyone in the riverlands.”

Shanda wasn’t listening to her brothers well meant advice anymore though. She’d reached the stage of anticipation where her brain was moving too quickly for conversation. She was too busy mapping out the planned course of action. She didn’t want to get anywhere near the guards, but with the bow she wouldn’t have to.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll be late as it is. Remember if you get stuck out there, the story is -“

“I went to the Redfork before dawn, I passed you and said something about the mourning ceremony. Everyone will be uncomfortable enough to leave it at that. I remember.”

The river cut through the borderlands but it was finicky. Sometimes high enough to require a bridge passing but that meant locating a bridge. That was too time consuming, Shanda planned to take a pole to vault over it instead. She couldn’t even remember passing the river on her flight home last night, she must’ve taken the bridge though as it was pouring rain. The sky had yet to let up in its continued assault. Though it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been, it was constant. For hours it had been consistently falling, a relentless pattering that seemed to morph into a dull droning inside her head. It was a quiet roar eroding what was left of her sanity.

Shanda strapped the bow to her back and pulled her hood up. This time she’d taken pains to cover herself more effectively. Her hair was bound up and hidden, covered by a piece of black fabric pinned in place. She wanted to cover her face as well but with the rain that was an impossibility. She had settled instead on smearing her face with a handful of mud. It would help hide her features if nothing else. She elected to wear the ruined cloak. Having hastily sewn the slash back up, it sat a bit awkwardly with the missing fabric but she knew it would be soaked and clinging to her soon anyway. Tied around her waist was the rope she needed to set the snare, it was thin and she had heaps of it. She wouldn’t run out of materials tonight.

Gazing around her room she only just now realized Martyn had departed. She crossed to the window and gazed out at the sky, black clouds continued to roll in obscuring any moonlight. She turned her attention to the guard tower, where a glint of steel signaled she was clear to leave. Crossing her room quickly, she slipped out the door and down the hall. The only sound was the distant rush of rain and the crackle of torch flames as she snuck down the stairs, past the main hall guards and into the kitchens. A sack of fat trimmings sat on the floor waiting for her and she scooped it up before storing it in her bag. The riverlands were always full of wolves. Day or night, rain or shine, the riverlands had a wolf problem. And Shanda hoped to use that to her advantage if everything went to shit. What better way to throw off the all mighty warrior than have a wolf attack him?

Once outside she didn’t breathe until she was safely outside of the keep walls and in the tall grass again. She stopped and ripped up several wild onions, and stuffed them inside her bag to hopefully hide the smell of meat until she wanted it to be smelled. She was already soaked when the first strike of lightning hit. It was close enough she could smell it and feel the heat of it on her skin. Unphased she began smearing her face in mud, covering both hands as well. Then she got to work.

The walk this time was spent carefully surveying the land around her. Hiding up a tree or in a fox den was out of the question. She couldn’t risk anywhere that might trap her, instead she considered the way the land moved. Which areas had slopes or holes. Where the mud was softest and which weeds were tangled together. This portion of the borderlands would be her last stand and before she continued on, she set what would be the last trap of the night. If they chased her this far it meant things had gone astronomically wrong. She pulled the heavy claw trap out and carefully pulled the metal sides apart before setting it in the shallow hollow. Then she spent a while weaving strands of grass together to conceal the trap. It would snap an ankle pretty cleanly with the spikes sawed down.

Crouched in the grass she made a mental note of where she placed the trap and sent a prayer to the warrior that she didn’t fall into it herself. Then she set off towards the small collection of trees on her side of the Redfork. The first snare she set was at the opening of the trees. This was the weakest point in her mind. The odds that she remembered exactly where to exit were slim to none. But it didn’t hurt to have something near the boundary between grass and trees. From there she spent more than an hour setting various snares around her side of the river before crossing and placing just a few on the other side. If this dispute became known she didn’t want to give the Blackwoods much ammo to accuse them of starting it. She could justify a few snares. Since technically this was neutral land, there was no reason she couldn’t place as many as she liked.

At last came the part she’d been waiting for. She walked slowly through the last of the trees. Crouched low and silent, she pulled the bow off of her back and notched an arrow. She crept forward for a while, keeping only to the right. She wanted to confront the heir something terrible but it was most important she not return to the same post twice. If she visited more than four posts without seeing him, she’d hang it up and try again later. But she didn’t think that would be an issue. If he’d been telling the truth last night, they were already looking for her right now. It shouldn’t have but it made her feel light and giddy to imagine a score of idiot Blackwood guards confused and aggravated, searching for her. She shook the jitters out of her hands and took a deep breath, pulling the bow taunt as she approached the first post of the night.

Still concealed within the trees she couldn’t hear the guards' conversation over the pounding rain. The wind was low and not doing anything for her now. She could see three of them, posted under a hastily erected canopy that was doing little to keep them dry. She scanned their faces briefly, making sure to keep an eye on her surroundings while she did. She wasn’t likely to be the only one making plans to obtain information. She pushed down her rising excitement once she confirmed Benjicot was not among these guards. Releasing the tension on her bow she walked on.

It wasn’t until the very last post she checked that she found him. Of course, she thought ruefully. They would want her as far out as they could conceivably believe to lure her. It didn’t matter to her, she could play along. And she knew they were playing once she spotted him. The fourth post was a crumbling ruin which immediately made her wary. A physical structure provided cover and ample opportunity to hide resources. It made the post more unpredictable and easy to defend. She didn’t want him to defend, she wanted him to run.

As she worked her eyes up the crumbling ruin her sense of forbidding rose, bow pulled taunt she aimed up and up scouting for guards. There were none until she reached the top of a half broken stone wall and found the Blackwood heir staring right at her.

“Shit.”

It all happened very quickly then, she loosened the first arrow, striking just beside him and he jumped off of the stone wall. It shocked her so much she nearly slipped in the mud as she began to run backwards, sending several more arrows at him. The wall had been several feet high and he hadn’t even paused when he touched the ground.

“Holy Mother. Agh.” She muttered under her breath watching him rapidly approach her position.

He was fast. Much faster than she was anticipating and he’d been waiting for her the asshole. She slung the bow back over her shoulder and took off in a dead sprint. There were no taunts thrown this time, just the sound of her sure breath as she vaulted over turned logs and gnarled roots. She was mid way over a recently down tree when he tackled her from behind. He was moving so quickly when he hit her that they both soared over the tree, tumbling to the ground together.

The struggle on the ground was aggressive, as they wrestled sliding in the forest undergrowth. She was lucky he hadn’t landed on top of her and she was able to slide her legs out from under him before he could make a grab for her. She quickly stood using her hands and knees but a hand wrapped around her ankle jerking her down. Clawing forward she kicked her free foot back at him striking his shoulder before he locked that leg down as well. Grunting she twisted around and socked him in the eye as hard as she could. His hold was tenuous in the rain but loosened further when a laugh burst out of him at the punch.

She was up and running in an instant. She felt like a blur as she led him up to the river. She vaulted over it without even trying to trigger a trap on his side. He was fucking quick and she didn’t want to give me an opportunity to down her again. Having the pole gave her the head start advantage she needed to get in position. When she saw him come barreling through the trees it didn’t take her long to lead him into the first snare. The rope pulled taut around his foot, sending him sprawling as it snapped.

She would’ve groaned at the sight if she weren’t panting hard, sliding through the mud working to find the next trap. The problem with running in the dark in a torrential downpour is it's incredibly difficult to see, and in that it becomes impossible to identify where you’ve been. So when the next snare triggered and she tripped it was a hard fall. She knew how to undo the snares and had just gotten it off as Benjicot slammed into her.

“Son of a - ah!”

This time he’d yanked the bow off of her back immediately slamming her head onto the ground, water and mud rushing up to choke her. Before yanking her arms back behind her, shoulders drawn back from the force, while his knees pinned the back of her legs down. The cold metal of her own knife pressed against her neck, with rain running in rivulets down it into her cloak.

“Caught you.”

[treetobook]

Our orange tabby hates me with every fiber of his being. I am 1) Not his father, 2) not the one who feeds him, 3) will not hesitate to chase him around w/ the spray bottle when he is up to shit, and 4) he has not forgiven the Christmas Stay*.

This is all to say the little shit and I have stare offs often before he decides to do something He Knows He Should Not.

Tonight, while I was not in the room, he decided to get on the kitchen table (a space he is not allowed to go) and he managed to knock off and break a mug (my mug. Because he hated me. I was not the one using it at the time but it was part of My Contribution to the Apartment).

Completely shattered. Million little pieces. Rat Bastard immediately tries to SIT ON THE PILE OF BROKEN GLASS AS I TRY TO SWEEP IT UP.

He got sprayed w/ water for that.

He is also completely fine, no glass in his paws despite his best efforts to put it there.

*I had to bring him back to my childhood home for a month over Christmas. He did not appreciate the long drive or being contained in my room. He brought a shelf down on his head and broke some decorative glass bottles that I did not anticipate him going near/being able to reach. Needless to say, he really did not appreciate it when I stashed him in one of our old big dog crates at night so I could Sleep for a few hours.

**we are aware small spaces lead to bored cats and bored cats will find trouble, we just did not anticipate this brand of trouble. He is typically more content to scratch up the couch- despite having scratching posts- and climbing windows.

[delicatecarregloomy]

So funny 😆

The race steward has a word with Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc at their first race together since the infamous "inchident" at Val d'Argenton one month earlier.

Max Verstappen & Charles Leclerc | WSK Euro Series KF2 | Wackersdorf 2012 🎥: [x] (June 8-10, 2012)

(Max: *nods his understanding, shakes the steward's hand* 🫤 ... meanwhile, Charles: *I refuse to even look at him* 😠)

[asongofmarvelanddc]

I always have to re-read my own fics when I haven’t updated in a while before finishing the next chapter.

[gigglesis]

Bubble 1 and lemon juice

but also at the same time storm

Poor thing accidentally put 1 instead of 2. 🤭

And omg aww, you're low-key a little lee for me? All that squirming with nowhere to go for meee? That pretty laugh of yours all for me? I'll even go for your favorite spots as a thank you and a way to make you high-key a lee for me 😌

[ominouspuff]

Continuing this fix-it AU where Commander Fox springboards off the deep end into a full-on rebellion, featuring unlikely allies belatedly finding out they are allies far too late to stop being allies but then again it’s never too late not to throw a terrifyingly destructive fit about it (Maul)

Close-up’s under the cut