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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 2 months ago

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In Love and War (7)

Summary: Truths are revealed and Reader has to decide what that means for her revenge plans.

Content Warnings: Talks of Past Character Deaths, Blood and Violence

Author's Note: Really building up for more and more angst here, aren't I?

Chapter 6/Masterlist

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Rhysand is gone when I wake up in the morning, the mat beside me cold, the fur not enough to fully keep the chill out. There’s some dried meat and bread laid out beside the mat for me, but he’d tied the tent flap closed whenever he’d left. I pack the food back up and start the familiar process of rolling up the fur and blankets. I have no appetite, and the more monotonous the task, the less I have to think about last night. There was no time to finish the conversation, not with the men scrambling to ensure we had no more surprises. Rhysand hadn’t come back to the tent until long after exhaustion had pulled me under. I was only coherent enough to register the warmth of his body beside mine before I’d fallen back asleep.

I wait until everything is packed, save the tent itself, to slide back into my chest piece. The leather feels heavier today. Everything does, really. I toss my quiver over my head and strap it in place, the silence making the heaviness worse. There are too many thoughts to be had inside this little tent. Too many emotions I don’t want to touch. I sigh as I untie the tent flap and step out into the early morning light. Cassian should have checked in by now, the fact that all the men are still here is a good sign.

A few of the men are already taking down their tents, the small amount of personal supplies piling up near where most of their horses graze. It won't take long for them to be saddled up and on the move again. This is a process that feels as familiar as breathing; I tear down the tent without waiting for Rhysand to come back from wherever it is he and Azriel have wandered off to--their mounts are the only ones missing from the herd but I can't see them over the rocky incline we're perched on.

Perhaps that is for the best. I think if I saw Rhys now I’d throw up. I need the answers, but I don’t know how to face them. I don’t know that I want to believe him.

I tear down the tent and get it all nice and packed away before I remember that Andras was still alive when I’d fallen asleep last night. A quick glance to where he’d been tied up shows me nothing but a blood stain and all the tears I’d tried to keep at bay last night come flooding to the surface.

I’m so tired of the bloodshed. Why does it always end this way? Is that all we are? Just brutes that kill and maim until we share the same fate? Is that all life is supposed to be?

I’m spiraling deeper and deeper by the time I hear their horses return and I am grateful I don’t have powers to advertise it to everyone the way their shadows had last night. I make myself busy, hands shaking, as I hear their boots hit the earth as they dismount. Rhys’s eyes are on my back as I tie the rolled up tent, I can feel them like a brand.

What have I done?

He and Azriel separate, one set of footfalls falling away, down the path to confer with the scouts, the other coming my way. It would be weird that I knew him by the sound of his gate if I hadn’t learned early on in life that the best way to stay safe was to mesmerize the sound of everyone’s footsteps. Can’t be underprepared for a fight if you know who’s coming your way.

Except this time, there’s nowhere to run. All the supplies are packed and they go on his horse. I might as well be chained to the beast.

“Did you eat?” He sounds as tired as he had looked last night and my chest feels like it’s going to cave in on me.

“Wasn’t hungry,” I mutter as I brush my hands over my pants and turn to face him. I should just rip the bandaid off, right? I

The jasmine and citrus scent of him is overwhelming, invading my senses; I hadn’t realized just how close he was until I’d turned, nearly into his chest. I have to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes--something I really shouldn’t be doing, but he doesn’t have the cowl on today. I must be a sucker for pain, because I want to be able to see his face.

“Are you ok?” The same shadows that had circled his eyes last night still remain. I’m not sure he slept at all. At least we both feel miserable. Yesterday I might have been happy about it; today I just feel like an asshole.

“I’m-” Cauldron what am I? Certainly not fine, and truth be told, I don’t feel like lying about it. Not to him. Not after all the lies I’ve already spun.

“If this is about last night…” he pauses, frowning, and gives himself a little shake. “If you’ve changed your mind-”

No, no, no, we definitely cannot be talking about my loyalties! Just because I feel guilty for doing it, doesn’t mean I have to admit to it, right?

“Did you kill Andras?” I blurt instead. It’s the first thing that comes to mind, because looking at him for too long is too damn hard and I keep looking at the blood stain on that tree. And, well I am curious about that. I do want him to tell me no. I want someone, in all of this, to be less of a monster than I thought.

“Yes,” he says.

My heart plummets into my stomach.

“He slit Avos’s throat and left his body in a ditch, there were already animals feeding on him by the time we located him.”

I visibly shudder and he cups my cheek in response. “I meant what I said about not liking violence, but there are things I cannot let go unpunished.”

These are his people, those are his fighting men, it is his job as their warlord to protect them, and if he cannot, it’s his duty to avenge them. I know this. I was raised on that belief. But yet I still feel responsible. If I’d never given Tamlin a reason to throw me out, I never would have ended up here, and Lucien never would have had to bring anyone out to try and rescue me. I would have been blind to the truth of my own people, but at least no one would be dead because of me. At least my heart wouldn’t feel like it was trying to rip itself from my chest to avoid all these terrible things that keep happening.

“Come on,” he gently nudges me towards where his horse is waiting, munching on some grass, when I don’t respond. I don’t miss the hurt that flashes across his features at my silence either. “We have to get moving and we have things to discuss.”

I don’t argue as he helps me into the saddle. He settles in behind me, firm and steady and I have never felt so many conflicting feelings towards a person in my life. I don’t want him to touch me until I know the truth of the matter; I need him to hold me and distract me from the reality of the situation. I want to be far away and I never want to leave all the same.

He calls for his men to get moving and in the span of five minutes, all supplies are packed and stowed and we’re once again moving along the lip of the mountain, a glittering trail of starlight trailing from his hand as he stitches the wards. The pull of his magic is stronger today, I see the ward more clearly, but more than anything I feel it. It makes the hair on my arms stand on end and that thing in my chest stirs again at its response.

It’s a long while before he speaks again. “What did Tamlin tell you about that night?” His voice is subdued, I don’t know if it’s hesitation or the strain or doing this while warding.

I shiver as I run my fingers absently through the horse’s mane. I don’t even know the animal’s name. I don’t know anything at all, not because no one told me, but because I hadn’t cared enough to ask. “He said you rode in, attacked my parents while they slept…”

A growl rumbles through his chest at that.

“He said they were dead by the time he got there and that he managed to fight you off long enough for our men to assemble and they scared the rest of you off.” I run a hand over the scar above my ear.

“Why?”

I twist in the saddle to look at him, nose brushing along the underside of his jaw. He has a scar there I hadn’t noticed, just a little nick like he’d been caught by the tip of a blade just beneath his chin. “Why what?”

“Why did he say I did it?”

“Because you could,” I whisper. “Because you wanted to put us in our place.”

He stiffens. “And you believed him?”

“I-” The truth hovers on the tip of my tongue, too much of it and he’ll see me for what I really am. “Why were you there?”

“I had a sister,” Rhysand whispers. “She was a little younger than you, I think.”

Had. My stomach flips.

“Our people had been meeting to discuss alliances against Amarantha. It was suggested that Tamlin and my sister marry, to unite us.”

I’d never even heard an alliance mentioned. My father hated the Illyrians, even in all my earliest memories. I would have been old enough to be told this was happening, my mother never so much as whispered a possibility that Tam was to marry.

“I never knew,” the words slip out as that stirring in my chest turns into a cavernous ache that might just split me right down the middle. I never knew any of this. Everyone, my father, my mother, Tamlin, hell even Lucien, lied to me.

“If I had known about you then, I would have suggested us as an alternative. She was never keen on the idea of marriage, but you were one of your father’s well kept secrets.”

Marriage? I sleep with the guy one time and he’s thinking about how he could have married me? I can’t be that good in bed. I think this idea of a mating bond is going to his head.

“It is tradition for mothers and daughters to stay a few nights with a betrothed family to ensure that they are a good fit. I was supposed to go with the convoy to make sure they arrived safely, but I got called out here to help fix a broken ward at the last minute.”

His magic stutters for a moment, as if remembering.

My stomach feels like it’s in my throat.

“As I was returning to camp, so was their convoy, or what was left of it. We got their heads in boxes.”

Tears drip down my cheeks and those illusive fangs tear right through my gums as what little magic I have flares.

“We thought it was Amarantha at first. My sister was unmarked so she could be married to someone outside of our clan and my mother…” he clears his throat. “You’ve seen our different crests. The Dark Bringers are what is left of the Night Court’s nobility. Even though they merged with the Illyrians decades ago, they always considered them lesser. They held council and refused my father’s request to mark my mother because of her lowborn status, and insisted he marry another to continue the bloodline. So neither of them bore the protection of the clan and it is Amarantha’s style to attack any unmarked for the fun of it.”

That’s why he was so insistent about me taking his mark in the beginning.

“We were halfway to the Middle, prepared to invade the Imperial City, when one of our spies sent word that there were two sets of Illyrian wings being carted around the Grasslands as trophies.”

There had been a lot of commotion that day, but I’d never seen anything, I’d been inside, dealing with one of my Mother’s episodes before that fight with Tam. I’d conveniently missed every single one of the details I’d needed to see the truth, and I can’t tell for the life of me if it was intentional on either of their parts. This could be a tactic to turn me against Tamlin, couldn’t it? I’d used my own sob story to get inside the camp. But why would he lie now? I’ve already taken his mark, I’ve already slept with him, what would he gain?

“My father intended to kill everyone when we got into camp,” he continues. “He ordered the men to kill everything that moved and burn the rest. I wanted vengeance as much as he did, I will not deny that, but I did talk him down from harming the women and children. Enough innocent blood had been shed. We agreed on that by the time we rode in, but… he was ahead of me and I had gone looking for Tamlin.”

How the hell was Tam even alive after something like this?

“In retribution, my father killed your mother first,” he swallows hard, remembering that detail, and I feel the tears fall anew down my cheeks. “I don’t know why he changed his mind or if he only said he wouldn’t so I wouldn’t stick so close to him. We never really saw eye to eye and there isn’t a day I don’t wish that I had stuck with him when we rode through camp. I could have stopped him. I could have…”

He could have saved her.

“I’m sorry,” his breath is warm on my face as he whispers in my ear. “I’m so sorry.”

“I gave up trying to find Tamlin in the chaos when I heard her scream, but I was too late. By the time I got there, your father had managed to run my father through, but not fast enough to keep his own head from rolling off his shoulders. They died together.”

“And Tamlin?” I ask softly.

“It is tradition to bury a warlord with his sword. I took my father’s sword and I left him there. He had dishonored our traditions in killing your mother, and the Illyrians would see it as a weakness that he died alongside his enemy. So I took his sword and decided that my first act as warlord would be kill Tamlin and merge what was left of your people with mine. I would not abandon the women and children, they could come live in the valley if they took my mark and swore fealty. Except I found Tamlin and Lucien, not fighting, but trying to burn what was left of my mother’s wings.”

How could they have done this? Tam could be cold and cruel but this was… horrific! And Lucien? Lucien who had always said that he and Tam would have made better poets than warriors? Lucien who had often joked that the three of us should run away and start a traveling music group?

“I nearly killed Lucien,” he continues. “Truth be told, I thought I had.”

That was one of the few things I did know. He’d been in a coma for a week.

“And I had Tamlin by the throat, but…” his hand tightens around my waist. “I heard someone calling for him, and for a moment, it sounded like when my sister would call for me. I think it might have been you, now that I’ve gotten to hear your voice. But I never saw you. I just… I realized that if I killed him, I would leave someone alone, as I had become. And I didn’t want to start out my time as Warlord by doing that. So I offered him a truce.”

Gods, I’d saved Tam by pure accident, by being so distraught that I’d done exactly what I’d always been told not to do and had yelled for him in the chaos. Worse, Tam was alive because Rhys had been the better male and in response to that mercy, he’d made Rhys out to be the monster to hide what he had done.

“We wouldn’t kill each other that night, or otherwise, and we would go our separate ways. As long as neither of us raised a hand to the other, our clans would leave each other alone.”

I don’t want to believe that Tam is capable of such atrocities, but the longer I am away from him, the more I realize just how scared of him I have been my entire life. It is not that he has done terrible things, but that deep down I was always scared he was capable of them. I walked on eggshells around him to avoid his anger. He’d lash out and throw things, push me around, belittle me, but he’d never scarred me like my father, and yet, deep down I knew there was a chance he could be pushed to those extremes, I’d just, never dared acknowledge it. Somehow, I’d always rationalized his outbursts as my fault. I pushed him. I gave him too hard a time. I was being too demanding or making too much work for him. I had not let myself consider that maybe I was not the problem in our relationship.

“Maybe I made a mistake in letting him live,” he says. “I just… I didn’t want to turn out like my father. I wanted to be better.”

What have I done? I wish the ground would open up and swallow me. Despite every reason to be the monster everyone always made him out to be, he was a good male. And I turned out to be my father’s daughter.

I slide my hand over his, intertwining our fingers. “You are the better male, Rhys.”

He squeezes my hand in return as his chin drops onto my shoulder. He has to be exhausted from warding and Lucien and keeping watch over the camp last night. The burden of carrying it alone must be astronomical.

“I’m sorry for all of it, I truly didn’t know any of it,” I say.

“Can I ask you something?”

Please no!

“Yes.”

We reach a creek that flows down from the mountain peak. In winter it might be little more than an ice bed, but for now, it is just warm enough for the water to still flow down into the grassy plains beyond.

We stop to let the horses drink, Rhysand helping me off the horse to stretch my legs, his great wings flaring out behind him, as he asks, “Why did you stay, if you thought I had killed them?”

I debate on if the creek is deep enough to drown myself in for a moment. Probably wouldn’t get very far. Especially since he’s standing chest to chest with me.

“I-” I can’t tell him the truth now. If he were to find out what I had planned to do, he’d throw me out! I’d be on my own all over again. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, go back to Tam, not after this. But now that I know the truth, I truly have nowhere to go. If he were to throw me out, I’d be on my own in the Wastes forever. No family. No shelter. No one.

I don’t know who I’m supposed to be or what I’m supposed to do, but I can’t be alone again. I won’t survive out there!

The guilt may very well eat me alive, but he can’t ever know. “I wanted to see for myself what kind of male you are.”

He cups my cheek, “And what have you decided?”

There is one truth I can give him. “That there’s a lot more to you than I was told, and I’d like to know you better.”

He grins and my heart drops into my stomach. When he kisses me, I kiss him back, hands threading through his thick hair. I won’t ruin his life, he deserves to have something good and happy after all the pain my family has brought to him; I just have to lie to give it to him. I’m already in this deep, is there really any going back now?

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Tag List:

@judig92, @randomperson1234sblog, @nyxbranwenn, @lilah-asteria, @barb00235

@landofpetrichor, @hjgdhghoe, @buttermilktea11, @yourforeveryoungblog, @sassyn

@zoeisdreaming6, @minnieoo, @girl-math-aint-mathing, @raisam, @inloveallthetime

@blessthepizzaman, @bxtchopolis, @erencvlt

As always, if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know! :)

#rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand acotar #warlord!rhys #pro rhysand #acotar fic #acotar smut #in Love and war #my writing #my acotar fics #my fanfics #rhys fic #bat boys #acotar AU

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theoraclenextdoor · 29 days ago

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trick or treat: what’s coming your way this month? pick a pile reading 🦇

with less than 15 days until halloween, let’s check-in. reach into the candy bowl and let’s see what tricks (challenges) and treats (blessings) are available for you this month. close your eyes and take a deep breath. now pick your pile.

pile i | pile ii | pile iii

all images from pinterest, dividers from @saradika-graphics

Pile One:

pile one, lately, it seems you’ve been deeply involved with your emotions, spending time navigating them as you work diligently on a project. you’ve likely been committed to this for quite some time, and the good news is that your hard work is leading to something lasting. this month, your efforts will be rewarded. however, there’s a major change you’re resisting. i see that it’s manifesting physically— whether through headaches, people literally getting in your way, or obstacles like being blocked from getting to work. there’s something within you that needs to shift, but your fear is holding you back. i sense that you’re avoiding this change because it reminds you of something you’ve been through before—something that hurt, something you fear might crush you again. but this fear is slowing down the momentum that’s trying to come through for you.

right now, you’re so guarded that this change can’t reach you. you don’t know exactly what’s coming, only that it feels scary. it’s okay to be afraid, but don’t let it stop you. walk with your fear. that’s the theme of this month: leaning into what scares you. step into the fear, pile one, while the choice is still yours. remember that “worst possible moment,” and recall how you moved through it. you’re not the same person you were back then—you’re stronger now, wiser. and even if something similar were to happen (though it won’t), trust that you’re far more equipped to handle it.

your treat is that things are progressing all on their own, with or without your permission. just keep putting in your effort, and let the rest unfold. the trick? that major change that you’re resisting. face it head-on. 🎃

tarot cards: page of cups, eight of coins, ten of coins, two of wands, five of coins, three of wands, four of wands, the tower rx, the moon, eight of wands rx, the chariot

confirmation: princess— or prince’s— treatment, panera bread, the princess diaries, anne hathaway, phineas and ferb, bird watching, “three cheers,” pumpkin patches

Pile Two:

you’ll know this pile is for you because it’s going to resonate in a way that feels long overdue. i almost had a hard time reading your energy—it feels like you’ve been quite protective of it, maybe even a little selfish with it. every card i pulled for you came out reversed, except for one advice card pulled separately. when this happens, we can flip the cards upright to reveal both an internal and external message.

pile two, there’s something you deeply desire, but up until now, whether it’s due to limiting beliefs, a lack of true faith, or being too caught up in the “how,” you haven’t fully opened yourself to receiving it. at some point, you even gave up trying. that brought a sense of relief, but it’s a false comfort. it’s easy to pretend you don’t want something until you’re reminded of just how badly you do.

i can see you’ve been going through a rough period, and you need to give yourself credit for how you’ve continued to show up. and by “showing up,” i don’t mean giving 100% every single day. it’s about doing what you can with the energy you have, and that’s worth celebrating. like i mentioned, you’ve been a bit guarded, likely because of everything you’ve been through. but here’s the thing—you’re also blocking yourself off from abundance by holding on so tightly. you know what you want, you know what success feels like, and you’ve got the energy to make it happen. what you lack is belief in yourself.

this month, your treat will come in the form of learning from others. someone close to you is going to achieve something that you’ve been wanting for yourself, and you’ll get a front-row seat to how they did it. this will give you the perspective and the missing pieces you need to reach your own desires. the trick is, you’ll have to keep your eyes open and be willing to learn. i see this lesson coming from a source you might not have expected—maybe even someone you’ve overlooked or underestimated. don’t let your pride stop you from taking this lesson in. if you do, this opportunity might slip right past you.

the phineas and ferb episode “last train to bustville” comes to mind. you’re candace in that episode. give it a watch this week and laugh at yourself a little (or a lot). it doesn’t always have to be so serious. 🖤

tarot cards: eight of swords, three of swords, seven of wands, the emperor, king of wands, nine of coins, ten of cups, ace of wands, the lovers, three of coins

confirmation: dune, seeing doubles, sweater weather by the neighborhood, chappell ron, love songs on the rain, chloë grace moretz, beetlejuice beetlejuice

Pile Three

this is my spooky pile. someone has shown up for you, personally, pile three. this is an entirely channeled message. i actually started with this reading first even though i knew you’d be the third pile. and as someone who prefers order, it was a little weird. i get the feeling you’re hoping to mix things up this month, and this is the right time for it. this month, your talents lie in the possibilities that surround you. your treat is a wish you’ve recently made— one that’s bound to come true. i feel like some of you are rolling your eyes, calling this message cheesy. lately, i’d be inclined to agree. but the veil is so thin in october. this transformation will either come from inspiration or desperation. disbelief, doubt, and fear will trigger the latter. believe in yourself (and me), just once, and you’ll be surprised by what comes your way. as for your wish, i’m hearing something to do with “soundcloud, alarm clocks, and tinder”? i’m also getting new girl vibes.

as for your trick— your challenge— it’s really your own mind. your cynicism has been off the charts lately and i feel as if you’ve been closed off for the majority of this reading. but that’s okay. the best person equipped to deal with your negativity is you. if you’re into musicals, have you heard the ‘epic’ saga by jorge rivera herrans?

you’ll see the beginnings of this by or around mid-november. keep me in the loop and happy halloween 👻

tarot cards: none, this was a channeled message.

confirmation: black cats, seeing joker in theaters, religious subtexts or undertones, “like moths to a flame”, mr. robot, water fountains by restaurants or by grocery stores

#pick a pile #pick a pile reading #pick a picture reading #tarotblr #halloween #tarot readings #🚪 the oracle next door

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moody-alcoholic · 4 months ago

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Prologue

CW: injuries, use of weapons, killing, death, mentions of bombs and terrorist's, angst, first draft dribbles.

Johnny never imagined what it would be like without Simon. Simon’s the boss, he's stronger, wiser, older. He never imagined him getting hurt in any way. Simon’s smart, knows how to get himself out of any situation he’s put in.

Except for this one time. It was a routine mission; clear the compound, secure the explosives, get out. Price sent Simon and Johnny in alone.

This is what Johnny is good at, it’s what he does best. Clearing buildings, defusing bombs his bread and butter. That's exactly what this mission was; easy.

It’s raining and dark, the compound has been surprisingly empty. It's methodical for Soap, like second nature, swing in the room, check the corners.

“Clear!” He listens to the sound of Ghost’s feet following behind him, almost silent especially with the rain. But Soap knows Ghost almost as well as he knows himself. He recognises the rhythm in his steps he would know if Ghost was in trouble before he would have chance to call it. It’s on the ground floor they find the bombs.

“Fecking beautiful.” Soap says as he turns the light on in the room. It flickers to life as Ghost covers the door.

“How long?” He asks, quickly looking over at Soap pulling the covers off the piles of improvised explosives.

“Most of these are duds.” Soap says as he inspects the pile, looking through for signs of life.

“20, we’ll be out in time fer dinner.” Soap says pushing the duds to the floor to reach the real fun.

“15, and you’re driving.” Ghost replies. Soap smiles.

“Aye, sir.” Soap ignores Ghost updating Price thrusting himself into the pile cutting wires, disarming anything with a light. His fingers will smell of Semtex for days but that’s fine he’s used to it, he secretly enjoys it, reminds him of a job well done.

There’s a crack of thunder promoting Soap to look up over at Ghost who has moved into the hallway. Soap doesn’t know how much time has past but he’s getting to the last of the pile.

There’s a crash, not thunder. Soap looks up watching Ghost stumble forward. There is no hesitation, he swings his weapon back in his hands, the safety clicked off as he walks to the door. The hallway is dark the only light coming from the room behind him and the periodic flash of lightning through the windows.

Soap hears movement in the next room, his heart beats faster as he hears Ghost groan, a shot is fired, then another. Soap swings into the room, hitting the light. Ghost is on the floor with a body on top of him. He helps Ghost push the body off.

“You good?” Soap asks, extending his arm out to help Ghost up. He sees the knife sticking out the side of the bodies head. He looks at Ghost.

Things happen in slow motion Ghost slumps against Soap who guides his body to the floor. His memory is fragmented, maybe it’s trauma, maybe it was survival instinct. He radio’s ‘man down’ while he rips off Ghost’s vest. One shot to the shoulder, one shot to the stomach. Soap remembers pressing bandages into his wounds, screaming at Ghost to stay awake.

Johnny used everything he had been taught to save Simon’s life. When he finally dragged him out the building for the medevac he was unconscious and bleeding out. They thought he might lose his arm.

Simon made it to the hospital before he stopped breathing. They said that was the best case scenario, Johnny didn’t believe them. It was 48 hours of hell. Price pacing the hallways while Johnny and Gaz waited for any news. First he was in surgery, then he was out. He was in a coma, then he was stable. Then back into surgery. They did everything they could to save the arm.

Every chance Johnny had he stayed by Simon's side. Praying to whatever God would listen to make him survive. He hated seeing Simon like this, tubes sticking out his throat his arm propped up in some orthopedic arm thing.

“Ye better make it ya grumpy ‘ol bastard.” He would whisper squeezing Simon’s good arm. Eventually, they had to leave.

“Jobs not going to finish itself, with or without Ghost.” Price said. Johnny threw himself into work, it was a good distraction. Chasing the terrorist cell as far as they could. Johnny counted 8 defused bombs in total. Each one without a sly remark from Ghost. The team felt empty.

When they came back Simon was awake. The doctors said his arm suffered nerve damage. He would need to spend sometime at a rehab facility back in the UK if he had any chance of making a full recovery. It was bitter sweet. Johnny was happy, happier then he thought he could ever be. At the same time he was heartbroken. Watching Price sign Simon’s medical discharge papers was the worst.

Everyone kept a straight face. Even when Price ordered Simon to go home. Straight faces all the way up till the end. Even when they waved Simon off as he headed back to the UK while they stayed behind to finish the job. It was alone in the comfort of their tents they would let themselves get emotional.

“Don’t blame yourself.” Price said to Johnny one day, resting his hand on his shoulder.

“‘Course not sir, he’ll be back before we have time to miss him.” Johnny replied. It was a lie but it made Price and Gaz smile.

It was a good lie.

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I have no self control. This did cure my writers block though.

I will continue this when I have caught up with other projects 😅

#cod #fanfic #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john price #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x john mactavish #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #task force 141

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floofeh-purpi · 4 months ago

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Happy Birthday! (Mootie's b-day special!)

Childe x Gn! Reader

『Birthday Participant! 🫂』

@mc-cos-charm

☆

A/n: Happy Birthday to you my fuzzie! I hope you have a greatgreatgreat G R E A T day! Also sorry if it isnt up to your tastes, I tried my best 😭🙌

Warnings: Whats that? Oh yeah, none. Except for some spelling errors, you calling the ginger head Ajax! Aka his real name! <3, this being shorter than my lifespan.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

The morning sun painted the room in soft, golden hues as it filtered through the sheer curtains. Ajax stirred, the warmth of the bed and the gentle scent of your shampoo a comforting embrace. His eyes fluttered open, and a lazy smile spread across his face as he found you curled up beside him, your soft snores a gentle melody that filled the quiet room.

Today was your birthday, a day he had been anticipating for weeks. You were his best friend, his confidante, the steady anchor in his often turbulent life. He loved you more than words could express, a depth of affection that surprised even him. He carefully disentangled himself from your embrace, not wanting to disturb your peaceful slumber. As he moved about the room, he hummed a soft, familiar tune, his heart filled with a warmth that was almost tangible.

He prepared a breakfast fit for royalty: a tower of fluffy pancakes, each one golden brown and perfectly cooked, accompanied by crispy bacon and scrambled eggs. He knew your preference for savory flavors and the absence of vegetables, and he had taken meticulous care to ensure the meal was exactly to your liking. A steaming cup of coffee, rich and aromatic, completed the spread. He might've asked for some help after he almost burnt the kitchen down.

When he returned to the bedroom, you were awake, your eyes still sleepy but a smile gracing your lips. "Morning Ajax," you murmured, stretching lazily. Your voice was like velvet, soft and inviting.

"Good morning, [Your Nickname]," Ajax replied, his voice filled with an affection that made your heart skip a beat. "Happy birthday." He handed you a small, exquisitely wrapped package, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. You tore open the paper, revealing a soft, plush blanket in your favorite shade of blue. You squealed with delight, burying your face in its softness. "It's perfect!" you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling.

Ajax chuckled, his heart swelling with pride. "I know you love cozy things," he said, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. After breakfast, you spent the morning lounging around, watching a movie and shared some laughs. You talked about everything, the hours slipping away unnoticed.

In the afternoon, Ajax surprised you with a picnic in a secluded spot in the park, a place he had discovered on one of his many missions as Fatui. He had laid out a soft, checkered blanket, and a basket overflowing with your favorite treats.

There were sandwiches piled high with tender roast beef, a wedge of sharp cheddar cheese, and crusty bread. An apple pie, still warm from the oven, filled the air with a mouthwatering aroma. And of course, there was a bottle of your wine, its deep color promising a rich, satisfying taste.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the park, Ajax took your hand, his touch sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. "I have something to ask you," he said, his voice serious but filled with a tender affection. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked into his eyes, a storm of emotions swirling within you. You knew what was coming, and anticipation and fear warred within you.

He got down on one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. The diamond in the ring caught the last rays of sunlight, sparkling like a promise. "You are my best friend, my confidante, and the love of my life," he began, his voice steady. "You bring joy, laughter, and warmth into my world. Will you marry me and let me spend the rest of my life loving and cherishing you?"

Tears of joy streamed down your face as you nodded enthusiastically, your heart overflowing with love and happiness. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" you exclaimed, your voice barely a whisper. Ajax slipped the ring onto your finger, and you pulled him into a passionate yt gentle kiss, the taste of apple pie and red wine mingling with the sweetness of your love.

As the first stars appeared in the sky, you and Ajax sat together, hand in hand, planning your future. You talked about your dream wedding, the perfect honeymoon destination, and the kind of life you wanted to build together. You laughed and dreamed, your hearts filled with an intoxicating sense of possibility.

As the night deepened, a sense of peace washed over you. You were surrounded by the man you loved, under a canopy of twinkling stars. The world felt perfect in that moment, and you knew that your life was about to embark on a new and wonderful chapter.

☆

AHHHH HAPPY BIRTHDAY MC!!!! :D I HOPE YOU LIKE MY BIRTHDAY GIFT FOY YOU! <33

Gifted: August 5, 2024. 2:03am.

I dont have the intestines and organs to make this longer im sorry 😭😔

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theother456-stories · 1 day ago

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In a small mountain village, news had spread of the mysterious disappearance of cattle. Farmers were at a loss, waking each morning to find their fields empty and their herds vanished without a trace. Whispers of wolves, bears, and even mythical creatures filled the town, but none seemed plausible given the sheer number of missing animals.

One late evening, as the moon rose high over the valley, a young man named Eli sat beneath an ancient oak tree, chuckling to himself with a belly full of satisfaction. Not just any belly, though—Eli’s middle had grown to monstrous proportions, so large and round it pressed against the sturdy trunk behind him, filling the clearing with its massive girth. His entire form was draped in stretched, patched-up clothing, remnants of an outfit that hadn’t stood a chance against his recent… “adventures.”

It had all started as a challenge. Eli, known for his insatiable appetite, had overheard rumors about an ancient “feast rite” that, according to legend, could grant anyone the power to eat and grow to their heart’s content. Thinking it was just a story, Eli had laughed it off—until he found a dusty, old tome hidden in his grandfather’s attic, detailing the rite in great detail. With a mischievous grin, he decided to give it a go. After all, what harm could a little fun cause?

Except, the rite had worked. And it had worked too well.

Eli found himself able to eat anything and everything without ever feeling full. At first, it was amusing; he started with the pantry, emptying entire shelves in mere minutes. Then he moved on to the baker’s shop, devouring rows of bread and pastries. But as days passed, his appetite grew, and soon, he was visiting farms late at night, enjoying whole barrels of milk, stacks of hay for flavor, and, eventually, entire herds of cattle.

Tonight was no different. He lay back, his belly sprawled over a pile of cattle bones beneath him, remnants of his most recent feast. Each breath caused his stomach to swell and contract like a hillock shifting under a gentle breeze. The sheer size of him was astounding; he’d become a legend in his own right, his shadow cast by the moonlight reaching far across the meadow. His body groaned and creaked with the pressure of his size, yet he seemed delighted, grinning as he thought back to each meal.

A twig snapped nearby. Eli’s ears perked up as he noticed a small group of villagers had gathered at the edge of the clearing, their faces frozen in awe and terror. They had come to investigate the disappearances, never expecting to find the culprit sitting happily with a mountain of a belly, surrounded by the evidence of his deeds.

“Oh, hello there!” Eli called out, raising a hand in a friendly wave. “I was wondering when you’d catch on!”

The villagers, too stunned to speak, simply stared as Eli chuckled, patting his enormous stomach proudly. “You know,” he said, leaning forward with a glint of mischief in his eye, “I don’t regret a single bite. Best meals I’ve had in my life!”

The crowd murmured, unsure whether to run or laugh at his audacity. One brave soul stepped forward and asked, “Eli, how on earth did you manage to… eat all of this?”

Eli laughed, the sound rumbling like thunder through the night. “Magic, my friends! Turns out, if you want something badly enough, sometimes the universe provides.” He winked, giving his belly a hearty slap that echoed through the trees. “Though I didn’t expect quite this much help!”

The villagers, sensing the good-natured humor in Eli’s tone, couldn’t help but chuckle along with him, their fear melting into disbelief. After all, what could they do? The man was larger than a barn, and he’d clearly enjoyed himself more than anyone in the village could have imagined.

With a grin, Eli reached into a pouch at his side, pulling out a small loaf of bread, his “snack” for the evening. “Well, don’t worry, friends. I’ll make it up to you somehow. Maybe throw a feast for the village—my treat!” He laughed heartily, his stomach rumbling in agreement.

As the villagers dispersed, each one still shaking their head in disbelief, Eli leaned back against the tree, taking a contented breath as he gazed up at the starry sky. This was only the beginning, he thought. If he could manage this with a few herds of cattle… imagine what he could do with an entire banquet hall.

And with that, Eli closed his eyes, already dreaming of his next meal, proud and unashamed of his newfound title as the village’s most legendary—and voracious—giant.

#fat gay #fatboy #gaining fat #get me fatter #ssbhm belly #ssbhm feedee #fat belly #fatty piggy #obese gainer #fatty

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 10 months ago

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Vesuvia Weekly: Fashion Intervention

~ here's another sketch of an afternoon with my fandom self-insert :P ~

1.8k words

One of the best parts about being the type of person to prefer sitting in corners is needing to worry less about my appearance.

One of the worst parts about being the type of person who doesn't worry much about appearance is having six friends who definitely do.

The part I don't understand is when my fashion sense got so horrifically bad that said six friends actually banded together to stage an intervention. In the marketplace. While I'm writing. With Selasi, that delightful baker, enabling them.

"Ah-ah-ah, don't try to resist! You're a fine young man, my friend, but we all have our weaknesses. Appearances are easy to fix!"

My neck is going to start hurting if I keep having to look up like this. Julian is gesturing enthusiastically, his coat billowing in the breeze as he gets caught up in his monologue on self-improvement. Do I point out the irony, or -

"He doesn't look that bad, he just needs some more ... smrthrgnh." The last word of Asra's sentence is muffled by a mouthful of bread. My bread. Why is he eating my snack?

"Why are your clothes so shapeless anyways? Show off a little something! You should do like I do and get everything tailored. Work that figure!" Lucio takes a few heeled steps and then spins, striking a pose to show off his suit. Muriel frowns.

"It's okay if you don't want to show off." Thank you. "But maybe you could ... pay attention to patterns." I take it back.

"Yeah, what's up the funky looking skeleton? There's no way the fabric it's painted on is going to last longer than a few washes."

"It's merch, Portia." She huffs at my defense and plops down across from me, brushing my parchment out of the way. "I like it because of the pattern, the quality is just ... unfortunate, sometimes."

"I believe we've made our intentions clear." Nadia sails into the discussion and gives me a no-nonsense look. "It would be remiss of us to allow our friend to sit in a public space with so little care for his appearance. Especially when he is one of Vesuvia's aspiring authors."

I try a pleading look, but the only person who starts to look remotely guilty is Julian. Portia's elbow to his ribs makes quick work of that.

"I have shi- I mean, I have stuff to write. And to get done. If you want to look through my wardrobe and help me put together outfits later, we can, but I don't want to leave my corner right now."

"I cannot say this response is unexpected," the Countess gives me a sly but friendly smile, "so I've prepared something for you in advance. When the time comes to return it to me, I expect you to do so with a cleared schedule and an open mind to fresh aesthetics." She holds out her hand, an intricate set of silver chains dripping from her fingers. "From my personal collection - I expect it will suit you nicely."

I sigh. The sooner I accept, the sooner I can go back to not being scrutinized by six pairs of frustratingly kind eyes. "Thank you. I'll take very good care of it."

Nadia moves the jewelry out of the way as I reach for it. "I desire something in exchange."

"What ... what something?"

"I'd like your sweater, please."

"My hoodie? But it's so comfy!"

Her eyelids droop in poorly concealed annoyance. "Your 'hoodie' is in a severe state of disrepair. I can see the threads poking out from the seams, young man, I don't care to see my prized jewelry hidden under such a tired item."

"... okay." I squirm out of my hoodie, handing over the pile of fabric in exchange for the chains. The short sleeves of my undershirt leave my arms exposed, something that I thought I did more often, except -

"You have tattoos?!" Portia's reaching across the table, snatching up my wrist to get a closer look at the slowly growing sleeve. "That's so cool! I've heard that they can really hurt."

"That's a familiar symbol," Asra eyes the lineart on my upper arm where its stretched across the table in front of them. "What do the other ones mean?"

"There's one on your neck, too!" Lucio sounds almost scandalized. "Let me see it!" Before I know it, my freshly exposed neck and arms are being closely examined while a few more sharp eyes focus in on the hints of ink peeking out on my shoulders and chest. This is why I wear hoodies.

Muriel's quick to notice my discomfort when the attention shifts to my neckline and bound chest. "My turn," he grumbles, dropping a navy blue scarf around my collar.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Now give me the second hoodie."

It's hard not to scowl, but I untie the backup hoodie's sleeves from my waist and hand it over. Dang it. "Here."

"You look chilly, my mentally decaying friend!" Good lord, when is Julian going to stop ribbing me over my pen name?

"It's brainrot." He doesn't falter.

"Allow me to rectify your situation! I guarantee you this trusty cloak will protect you from the fiercest of storms." He pulls the massive, dramatic coat from his shoulders in a rehearsed sweep and twirls it to fall behind me. He keeps the armholes open with an excited grin until I push my hands through them.

"This is ..."

"Warm? Comfortable? Touching?"

"Huge." I can barely hold back my laugh. "There's no way even your arms come out the other end of these sleeves! ... but thanks, I'm definitely not cold any more."

"I'll help you roll them up," Portia chirps. Her nimble fingers make quick work of the endless fabric, and I can see my ink stained hands again in no time. "Now give me your socks."

Oh no. My boots are sitting next to the pile of cushions, my socked feet tucked under me for maximum comfort. It's not the stink I'm worried about - for all my poor fashion sense, I never miss my daily shower, or laundry day - but to say that I walk gently would be a blatant lie. I briefly size up the determined look on her face before sighing and shucking them off under the table. "... remember, you asked for this."

Hey jaw drops. "Please tell me you have at least one pair of socks that don't have holes in them."

I shrug. "As long as I can still wear them ..."

"No!" She slams her hand on the table, rattling the now-empty bread bowl sitting in front of a shameless snack thief. "These aren't socks anymore, they're practically cobwebs! I'm knitting at least five more of these."

She shoves a pair of knit orange socks into my hands, lovingly covered with Pepi's cat hair and decorated with little blue bows. "Put these on, I'm burning the rags you gave me."

We both know my pout is just for show. It's not my usual style to wear anything that isn't black (or very, very dark grey), but the bright orange gift is supremely comfortable when I put it on.

"My turn," Asra begins with an innocent smile.

"Where's my bread?"

The dimples deepen. "Give me your head covering, and I'll tell you."

"My beanie?"

"Is that what it's called?" He holds out his hand, taking a closer look at the shabby knit fabric when I pass it to him. "I don't see why, there aren't any beanlike qualities about it. Ooh, unless they're invisible beans ..."

Nadia's sharp cough sets them back on track. "Wear this instead, until we can find a better replacement." Oh god, tell me it's not -

It is. It's his iconic wide brimmed hat, complete with the oversized neon rainbow feather nodding from the band. I don't have time to protest before they're plopping it onto my head and wobbling it into place with a laugh. "Now you're unnoticeable." I highly doubt that. "As to your bread, Selasi's been asked to bring you some of the next hot batch. Can you forgive me?"

Nothing about a smile as smug as his says "guilty", but to be fair, I was never upset. I nod. "So ... can I go back to writing now?"

"What about me?!" I glance from Lucio's outraged pout to the rest of the group. I'm fairly certain that, even if he was invited to the planning for this, he didn't follow through on deciding which offending article of clothing he wanted to replace. "You didn't tell me I had to bring something!"

Portia rolls her eyes. "Well maybe if you had listened when I was talking to you, then you would've known." I don't miss the quiet smile lurking in the corners of Muriel's face as Lucio turns bright red and sputters.

"Well joke's on you, 'cause I'm going to give him something anyways!" He starts taking a hasty inventory of his outfit. "Yeah, that's right! I'm gonna give him ... I'm gonna give himmmmm ... this!"

He unfastens his smallest medal and leans over the table, poking the pin of it through the thick leather of Julian's jacket, disregarding the whimper of protest from the doctor behind him. "It's supposed to be airtight, to keep out the bad humors ..."

"There!" The ex-count grins down at me proudly. "Now your outfit isn't boring. You can give that back to me when you have a better look."

"Thanks," I tell him, and I mean it after noticing the way he glances forlornly at the new empty spot on his sash. "I'll make sure it gets back to you."

"We should go now." Muriel's already half-turned away. "... I'm still not sure this worked."

Asra steps back to his friend, surveying my new look from a distance. "Maybe this will motivate him to let us fix his look sooner."

"It looks better with my medal on it," Lucio announces proudly. Portia lays a firm hand on his shoulder and starts heading away, dragging him with her.

"You'll look better once you make time for us, promise!"

"You should be somewhat protected from the elements, at least." Julian eyes his cuffed coat critically. "If you fasten it correctly, it's airtight, humors proof, water tight, blood proof, pus proof -"

"We'll leave you in peace." Nadia smiles again, amusement dancing in her eyes every time she looks at me. "I suggest you prioritize finishing this project soon."

The six disappear back into the crowd. I lean back against the stone wall behind me, Asra's hat knocking forward over my eyes and giving me a moment of peace. Sure, I may have looked shabby before in my all black-and-grey, well worn clothes, but now -

I'm startled out of my blissful shuteye by a surprised choke. Selasi's standing by my table, a fresh bowl of spiced rolls in one hand and the other clapped over his mouth. "Would you - would you like a mirror, my friend?"

I hold out my hand for the rolls, mentally taking it as a consolation prize for what I've just been lovingly wrangled into.

"Oh, don't think I'm not aware that you let this happen, Selasi."

#vesuvia weekly #borrowing clothes #ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fanfic #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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blackrosesandwhump · 8 months ago

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March of Pain Day 27: Food

CW: hunger, um...that's about it this time

As the sunset cast golden light through the window above the sink, the servant boy finished scraping the plates into his wooden bowl. The royals had eaten almost everything, leaving him with a small mound of scraps and crumbs. Mostly bones. He would give those to the dogs. But for him, there wasn’t much. He was used to it; it came with the territory of being a kitchen boy. Granted, he wasn’t just a kitchen boy. But no one knew that except him.

He set the bowl aside for later and started washing. Behind him, the cook hummed tunelessly as he put his pots away. The woodcutter lumbered in with the last pile of wood for the night. The queen’s maid slipped in for her majesty’s nightly hot drink. And the kitchen boy kept washing. Plate after plate, bowl after bowl, he scrubbed and rinsed, casting the occasional glance at the meager bowl waiting for him when he was finished.

If only they knew. If only they knew who I really am.

He had taken the job easily: get a position in the castle in disguise, and keep an eye on the royal family’s movements. Not the most honorable thing he had ever done. But there was more than just his own honor at stake.

They can’t know. Not yet. Not until the job is done.

With the stack of dirty dishes finally depleted, the kitchen boy turned at last to his bowl of leftovers. One taste, and he dumped the rest into a trough for the pigs. Even worse than he expected. Stale bread would have to be enough for tonight’s supper after all.

Not the way to treat a knight. He should be sitting at the high table, dining next to the rest of the royal family’s courtiers.

But for now, until he accomplished his mission, stale bread would have to do.

That, and the dagger he always wore concealed in his cast-off boots.

@marchofpain

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darthpastry · 1 year ago

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Incorrect Quotes of the Kingdom Pt. 2

Link: I'm never donating blood again. The second you walk through the door, it’s just one invasive question after another! ‘Where did you get it?’ 'Why is it in a bucket?’ I mean... do you want it or not?

——————

Revali: Any idiot would know that.

Link: I knew that!

Revali: See?

——————

Revali: Could you be any more annoying?

Link: Definitely.

——————

Purah: Ew, what kind of tea is this?

Link *sipping tea cup with pinky in the air*: I boiled Gatorade.

——————

Link: Ok so, apparently the "bad vibes" I've been feeling are actually severe psychological distress.

——————

Tulin: I’ve become a bread crumb dealer to four crows at the lake. They pay me with a bit of everything. Like shiny things, fabric, or pens. But recently they paid me with a 20 dollar bill they found somewhere. So I decided to buy them some more expensive bread. They loved it. So they understand what to do. Give me money. I’ve probably racked up about 200 dollars at this point. Is it morally wrong though, I mean. They’re the ones who steal the money from others. Or perhaps they just have a big pile laying somewhere. Should I keep on doing this?

Riju: You sound like the start of a Batman villain.

——————

Zelda: What are you two arguing about this time?

Purah: They're always using common phrases incorrectly!

Link: Cry me a table.

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Link: Fight me!

Ganondorf: Ha, look at your size! What are you gonna do, kick my ankle?

*Later*

Ghost Sonia: Why is Ganondorf crying?

Ghost Rauru: Link kicked them really hard in the ankle.

——————

Zelda: Please could you go to the shop and get a carton of milk, if they have avocados get six.

Link *coming back from the store with six cartons of milk*: They had avacados!

——————

Link: Rauru, I screwed up big time.

Rauru: Link, given your daily life experiences, you’re gonna have to be more specific.

——————

Link: *About to do something incredibly stupid*

The sages: I know I can't stop you, but I won't let you go by yourself.

——————

Sonia: I have been tricked, I have been backstabbed, and I have quite possibly been bamboozled.

——————

Purah: According to the footage here, you shook the vending machine and when the shake alarm went off, you punched the glass and broke it.

Link: ... I was hungry.

——————

Sonia: Not gonna lie, I'm kind of afraid of Link...

Rauru: As you should be.

Sonia: No, for real. They're kind of-

Rauru: As. You. Should. Be.

——————

Ganondorf: Life is like Link. It's short.

——————

Link: Don't worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve.

Yunobo: I think you mean cards.

Tulin: He did not.

Link *pulling out knives*: I did not.

——————

Link: The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math.

——————

Link: Like they say, "If you can't beat them, curl up in a ball and protect your organs."

——————

Purah: When will Ted himself...finally show up to the talk?

Tulin: The final boss.

Riju: You guys know TEDtalks stands for technology, entertainment, and design talks, right?

Link: I will not let Ted hide behind these lies any longer!

——————

Link: Yum, thanks!

Ganondorf *puts more tape over Link's mouth*: I said, stop eating it.

——————

Purah: Didn't you die?!

Link: That was weeks ago. Things change.

——————

Purah: Wake me up...

Tulin: Before ya go go

Zelda: When September ends

Link: WAKE ME UP INSIDE

——————

Sidon: What if mayonnaise came in cans?

Link: That would suck because you can't microwave metal.

Riju: Good morning to everyone except these two people.

——————

Ganondorf: I've been expecting you, Link.

Link: How did you do that without turning around?

Ganondorf: Let's just say the first few people I did that to were not you.

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chromatic-lamina · 1 year ago

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Excerpt from Taxi

An older piece of mine, in light of recent international events genocidal invasions. Characters: Trafalgar Law and Rebecca

Modern day AU with universe elements. The lines of the poem in the middle is from a Mahmoud Darwish poem, I Come From There, and the one line excerpt Rebecca goes on to quote is from 24th September 1945, by Nazim (Nasim) Hikmet.

Setting: Taxi driver Law has picked up Rebecca from the airport, conversation and recognition about fucked-up pasts ensue on their way to Zoro's dojo. ***********

"Where are you from?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Law looked up, a little surprised. Pre-empted. Hardly got that question nowadays.

"You're not from here."

"I grew up here."

"Weren't born here."

"No." He fiddled with the buttons of the radio as always when white noise was less threatening than conversation. What had given him away?

"You had to leave a place?"

He looked over his shoulder for a second. The burning of his hometown was seared into his memory, but didn't scorch his every waking moment. Not now.

"Who are you, sister?"

She opened her bag. Rooted around for a bottle of water. Uncapped it and took a drink. She eased a foot out of one of the sneakers. Flexible, lithe. Some strength in the casual, well-kept body. Her feet didn't smell either. That was some achievement.

"Me too," she said. She wondered if the tattoos hid scars. "Had to leave a place."

"I see."

The road was hemming them in like a wall to keep them out, to separate them from everything that anyone ever wanted. The discards, broken toys, the displaced, were shovelled along the asphalt like coal into a furnace chute.

"Or we were kept from a place. Like this." She waved at the concrete zipping by. "My father and I were not allowed to participate in society. Wrong class. My mother was shot."

Law nodded. People told taxi drivers everything. They'd never see them again, right? Except he knew where she was going.

"Zoro helped me out. In the past."

Just like Doflamingo and Cora had helped him. He had an idea that Zoro's assistance might have had a few less long-lasting entanglements.

"Who shot her?" he asked, running his fingers back and forth on the wheel. He didn't need to ask if the wounds were fatal.

"New government." Her eyes were on the verge zipping past, dimming into evening.

"My father," she paused, "It almost destroyed him. He loved her." She wanted to see more than concrete, but the fastest way was the most sterile. She took in the stiff back in front of her, but didn't feel any crackle of anger. "You look like someone who understands the songs."

Law remembered. His father, the meetings, going with Lammy and his mother to buy the hot, flat bread, piles of it like pancakes. It was so easy to make, but she didn't have time. She was going to teach him one day. A different kind of flour. Didn't hurt his stomach.

The sickness that had almost taken Lammy, if the soldiers hadn't beaten the condition to it, was never far from the surface in those days. He remembered the words his dad had taught him before the Donquixote brothers took him. His father had arranged for them to do so. The soldiers came soon after.

He saw the body, the death. His glasses shattered on the floor as he fell forward. Thinking at the time, how would his father see? He was blind without his glasses. Someone's hand over Law's mouth — Was it Cora? — holding him back. This woman was the same as him? Same as Law?

"I have my own view, And an extra blade of grass." Smooth, the lines were loud enough to be heard from the back of the cab, but no dramatics, not shouting.

"Mine is the moon at the far edge of the words, And the bounty of birds," she answered. The moon was now actually in the sky. An orange ball rising ahead of them. Both rested a beat before Law continued.

"And the immortal olive tree. I walked this land before the swords…"

He had long shifts. Reciting the hope, the history, his father had taught him kept him near, and sure helped pass the time. Less fear in them than warnings and prayers. Kept his family close. Maybe his tatts were like the beads of a rosary, the stanzas of an ode.

"Turned its living body into a laden table." The woman pushed her fringe up and settled the scarf over her head and shoulders. "I come from there."

"You come from there?" Law asked. He thought he was the only one left.

She shook her head. "Sorry." She'd heard the click of want. "But his words, those works." She looked out the window again. She knew Law knew how they crossed nations. The poet came from there, and his words went everywhere.

"Your father is?"

"Still alive. Things are good now."

Was Zoro a mercenary? How had he helped this woman out? Some kind of missionary?

"In body, mind and soul?"

She wished she could see the driver's face better. Only the dregs or the very wealthy marked themselves up in her society. Both had helped her. It was darker now. Maybe his voice told her more about him than anything.

"The best days have yet to be lived." Different wordsmith, same desire to see the sun shine freely. She wasn't sure though if the best was before her. It had always been warm in her mother's arms.

"Preach." Law loosened the back of his shirt from the seat, from Ace's massager. He wasn't sure though. The few scraps of photos Doflamingo and Cora somehow scavenged were all he had of his family. Festivals had been fun. Studying medicine with his parents had made him proud.

Lovely sketche done for me by @fablecore in support of the Palestine Children's Relief fund,

#one piece #long post #trafalgar law #rebecca one piece #op fanfiction #opfanfic #one piece fanfiction #palestine #chromafic #chromalami #mahmoud darwish #nazim hikmet #chromafics

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k-hippie · 1 year ago

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CHAMPIGNAC CC and STUFF PART 1

Before the upload of Champignac, let's talk about the CC used in the World ...

Let's face it, there is a little bit more CC used in Champignac than in our other Sims 3 Worlds, because we really wanted to create a French ambiance for a French flavored world :)

Don't worry : except 2 or 3 things, we still use the same creators stuff aka mainly ATS ( Around the Sims 3 ) and Cyclone Sue ( from TSR ) for the build part. And of course, our own stuff which is not huge :D like our Rabbit Holes you may find here on Tumblr ...

Before any further, the fantastic towers you need to get in order to fully enjoy Champignac come from MTS ( Mod the Sims ) and have been converted from The Sims Medieval by Votenga ( MEDIEVAL TOWERS & BUILDINGS ) you may find there :)

I hope you'll enjoy discover all these gems in Champignac ;)

our "Stadium" is the Football Club by Norn @ MTS and tumblr

the Junk Yard is based on : Old Art Deco gas station yard by flora2 @ MTS :)

le Marché Bio ( Bio Market ) is based on Farmers Market by efolger997 @ MTS

the Supernatural Tavern is based on Old Tomes bookstore by Vera J @ MTS

the Bistro of Champignac is based on Rattlesnake Juice by bellakenobi @ MTS

the Vampire Lounge is fully based on Pastor John's Church by Diwtay @ MTS

the beautiful City Hall of Champignac is a simplified version of a community lot by Jeanpass ( here on tumblr )

the Museum of Champignac we named : Villa Medicis is a creation of Petalbot ( Palazzo Venezia )

Let's talk now about the CC ...

As you already know ;) ATS made a lot of French stuff for the Sims 3. In fact, it's even THE Place to find everything you need to create a French flavored World :D so, here everything we used in Champignac

Set Exhibition & Museum Shop

Set Eco Café

Set Grocery - Fresh product displays - add-ons

Set Bakery Shop Part 2

Baguettes Display | Baguettes Baguette | Baguette Bread | Pain Shelf | Etagère

Set Bistrot Part 2

Price List | Tarifs des consommations Wall Menu | Menu Shelf | Etagère

Set City Urban Objects

Community Trash Can | Poubelle Communautaire Mail box (decorative) | Boîte aux lettres Phone Cabin (mirror) | Cabine téléphonique

Set City Newspapers Kiosque

Set Beach Activity Add-ons

Beach cabin | Cabine de plage (Decorative | Décor) Beach cabin | Cabine de plage (Toilets | Toilettes)

Set Uglify your Town

Concrete bench | Banc en béton Park bench | Banc de parc

Set Canal Locks

Set Church : ALL Items

Set The Dailies Café : Coffee Bar | Bar à café University Set Gardening Shop : Painted Crate | Cageot peint

Set Scuba diving & Surf Club : Surf board | Planche de surf

Set Electric Scooters : ALL Items

Set Misc Vehicles : Scooter with slot

Set Bakery 4to3 : Baking Pan - Bread | Moule - Pain/Cake + Bread | Pain

Sims 4 to 3 - City Living Landmarks #2 : Telephone pole | Poteau téléphonique x 2

Set Chocolate & Tea Shop : Chocolate Box | Boîte de chocolats ( ATS3-object-chocolatier-chocolatebox-heart-open )

In theory, all those items are .sims3pack files and should be encapsulated in the different lots. Anyway, we shall provide a folder with the .package files we used, just in case ;)

As said in the Road Map previous post, the tech-hippie website is already online and running fine. And the Sims 3 Lounge is mostly back too :) oh ! and Champignac will be uploaded later into the night or tomorrow maximum ...

Welcome in France :D

#sims 3 custom content #sims 3 cc #sims 3 world #k hippie #sims 3 build #sims 3 champignac #champignac #sims 3 champs les sims #champs les sims #sims de nimes #sims 3 #sims 3 worlds

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ladylooch · 1 year ago

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Loving & Leaving- Part 4

Visit the series page here.

A/N: Now, we are seeing a shift for our little “non- lovers”. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that 😘 Thank you so much for your love and support on this one. It’s been dreamy and exciting!

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, lots of vomit talk, pregnancy, angst.

The month of December is hell on earth for event planners. Between your own personal celebrations leading up to the holidays and your client's, you never have a moment to yourself. I’ve seen the inside of my house for a maximum of two hours since I returned back from America. The other times I’ve been there its falling into a pile of exhaustion on my bed before my alarm goes off to do it all over again. My work weeks have transitioned into 70+ hours. At least I know there is light at the end of this tunnel when I return to New Jersey with my parents on Tuesday.

Then, I’ll be able to spend time with them and… hopefully Timo, depending on if I can slip away or not. Communication between the two of us has been limited the last two weeks. I’ve responded to his texts and we have shared a few brief phone calls. At least he’s understanding and supportive. It helps that his season is ramping up and requires a majority of his focus.

We send pictures and TikTok’s, but I haven’t responded to those in five days. I’ve missed every one of his FaceTime calls this week too. Despite my admitted history, I am honestly not avoiding him. The grind of the holiday season is simply catching up with me. I find myself falling asleep the moment I sit down on my couch with a glass of wine. When I’m awake, I feel so overwhelmed that even keeping up with my friends and family here is disappearing from my never ending list. I’m overwhelmed, nearing burn out and honestly, sick. So sick. The last three days, my body has seemingly rejecting all this stress with a nausea I can’t seem to shake.

Which brings me to where I am now, puking, knees quivering on the tiled bathroom floor of an event center for the third time in three days. It’s my last event before Christmas and I’ve spent more time in the bathroom tonight than anywhere else. This is a different kind of sick. It feels like my body is purging everything I put into it before I can get any sort of benefit from it. All I ate was a piece of bread, fast, while rushing back from a dessert emergency in the kitchen. I barely got the last bite down before I was sprinting back to the bathroom.

“What is wrong with me?” I moan, laying the side of my head against the stall. I move to wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. I rest my forearm into my breast and groan at the tenderness. Awareness begins to seep into my thoughts. “No. This is not happening.” I whisper to the empty bathroom.

The door swings open and I grimace, not wanting to have any of the guests of my high-end client hear me. I thought I would have some time alone with the speaking part of the program under way.

“Em, are you okay?” Rhea, my assistant and long-time friend, asks.

“Um.” I pause, pressing the back of my hand furthering into my wet lips. My stomach lurches and I vomit again. I can hear Rhea sigh outside of the stall.

“This isn’t like you.” She says what we are both thinking. I’m rarely sick. This is new. “I’ll be back.” She calls before leaving the bathroom. I sit on my knees, eyes screwed shut, spitting into the toilet. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, seeing Timo’s FaceTime call. I can’t answer that right now. Not when I think… I won’t let myself even finish the thought.

Rhea returns, kicking a pink, pregnancy test box under the stall. The woman on the front grins joyfully. I can’t say I feel the same. I consider denying that I need one of these, but Rhea and I spoke this morning about how weird my cycle has been. I had my period a few weeks ago, but it was almost non-existent. I chalked it up to stress, except… now I’m sick.

“How do you just have one of these?” I mumble, hating that we are both on the same page.

“At some point, these things are like strips of gum in your purse.”

We fall quiet.

“This is a low moment for me.” I mutter, ripping the box open. “Taking a… test at a client event is so embarrassing.” I work my way to sitting on the toilet.

“You need to be able to eliminate this.” She responds, leaning against the bathroom door. I scowl, hearing my phone vibrate against the toilet paper dispenser. I know that’s him again. So does Rhea. He has the same routine. Calls three times and leaves a message on the third. “Interesting timing. At least you'll know who’s baby it is.” I glare at the stall door as I snap the cap of the test back on.

“Can I have a minute here?” Guilt squeezes my throat at how unfriendly my tone sounds. My whole world seems up in the air right now and I just need her to stop talking.

But the absence of Rhea’s voice makes my phone vibrating louder until it feels like it’s rattling between my ears. A ping echos in the bathroom signaling a voicemail. I grab my phone, listening to his message.

“Hey Em… uh, it’s me again. Look, I know you’re busy but I’m going to be honest this feels like you’re kinda ignoring me. Did I do something? Or… *heavy sigh* I don’t know. Can you just call me? I miss you. We play tonight, but call me.. I’ll pick up. Just… I want to know you’re okay. Bye.”

My bottom lip trembles at the sound of his voice. No. I am not okay, sitting on the floor of this bathroom, trying not to puke again at the reality of the test in my hand. Worried tears build as I sense the two minutes pass. I know the test is ready, can feel it in my shaking hands and the passing of another song from the band beyond this room.

I move my fingers and die at the distinct plus sign that greets me.

“Fuck.” I cry, throwing the test down on the floor. It bounces underneath to the next stall. My abdomen shakes with sobs and terror as I clasp my hand over my mouth. “Fuck.” I say into my palm again, quieter, listening to the classical strings float into the bathroom from the event space. The soft music is an ironic soundtrack to my whole world crashing down on top of me. I look up at the ceiling, tears crawling from the corners of my eyes. They drip into my ears as I shake against the cold floor.

What am I going to do?

How am I going to tell Timo?

A few days later, after arriving in New Jersey for Christmas, I’ve come to the, admittedly, irrational decision that maybe I just won’t. It’s been an exhausting few days that’s accompanied more nausea and tons of smell aversions. One of them is eggs which Nico is innocently frying up for breakfast.

“You want some?” He asks me as he cracks three eggs for himself.

“No.” I can barely respond without gagging.

Our parents went off on their own for a walk around the city and to grab a cup of their favorite coffee. Usually, I would join them, but my stomach has been so touch and go this morning that I didn’t think I could. Nico continues to move the eggs around and they get more fragrant. I try to switch breathing through my mouth, but the smell seems to coat my tongue. My stomach squeezes and I rush from the kitchen with my hand clasped over my mouth. Nico watches my back with confusion. I return to the kitchen wordlessly when I am done, grabbing a glass of water. Nico stares, eyebrows cocked in question.

“Not sure that motion sickness lasts for days, Em. Maybe you need to see a doctor. I can ask one of the team doctors if they can come over?” I’ve already seen a doctor to confirm my pregnancy. And the thought of getting a team official involved has my throat tightening. I come back to the counter, slowly sitting down and rubbing at the tense muscles in my neck. My gaze drifts to the dining room table, grimacing at the reminder it’s one of the places we could have conceived this baby.

I was so stupid to start us down this road. Yes, I’m on the pill. Yes, I take it regularly. No, I have no idea how this happened. When I brought it up to my doctor, she shrugged, saying no birth control options are completely guaranteed. Then she handed me the sonogram I didn’t ask for, that’s now tucked in my suitcase, buried beneath all my clothes.

I watch Nico scrape his eggs onto a plate, then sprinkle more salt and pepper onto the fluffy peaks. He’s right here in front of me, but it feels like we are a thousands of miles apart. Loneliness grips my heart, making my eyes wet as Nico comes to sit by me. The heaviness of being the only person who knows weighs on me. But, here, in his kitchen, I can feel my little brother’s safety being stable enough to take some of that weight from me. I’m going to tell him, I decide as he shuffles his eggs around, spearing a few onto his fork.

“It’s not motion sickness. I’m pregnant.” I tell Nico, who pauses with his eggs at his open mouth. The egg flies off when he exhales sharply. I bite my tongue against the vomit pressing into my esophagus.

“What?”

“And it’s Timo’s.” I didn’t intend to tell him, but it flew out before I could stop it.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.” Surprise absorbs my face now. “I know you two fuck around.” He motions at me with his fork. “Have for years. You two are awful at hiding your obsession with each other.” My mouth is slightly slack as he stabs the egg back on his fork. He stuffs it into his mouth and continues while he chews. “Never understood why you wouldn’t go all in.”

“Because I have a life in Switzerland.”

“Yeah, that’s gone now.” He swipes the air in front of me with his fork again, gesturing to the pregnancy. I narrow my eyes at his bluntness and obvious lack of empathy. “What did Timo say when you told him?” I am silent. He brings his brown eyes back to mine, squinting. “You did tell him, right?” More silence “Emma.” He snaps.

“I just found out.” I defend myself. “Not that I really owe you an explanation.”

“Get dressed.” Nico says, pointing down the hall to my room. “You’re going to tell him now.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are. It should have been your first stop when you got here.”

“I can’t just show up at his-”

“Are you keeping his baby?” He cuts me off. A heavy inhale pulls my lips apart.

“Yes.” I say without question. It never crossed my mind to not go through with this.

“Then get downstairs.” His voice is final, like there is no reason to continue to argue further with him.

“When did you stop being my protector?” I grumble while rising to leave the counter.

“Who says I stopped?” His stare is pointed. “Go.” His tone has softened at the obvious tears in my eyes. “I wouldn’t send you if I didn’t think it would be okay.”

I try to remember those words as I stare at Timo’s apartment door seven minutes later. I thought about texting him, but then there would be so much small talk and I can’t do that right now. I contemplate bailing, but my brother comes to mind, knowing he’s going to expect a report from the conversation when I return.

“Damn you, Nico.” I mutter as I raise my hand to knock.

I wait for a minute, maybe two, gripping the sleeves of my sweatshirt in my hands. No sound comes from the other side of the door. I think I might get off easy. I even turn to head back towards the elevator. Then the sound of the lock flipping halts me. My stomach drops out of my body, hitting the floor and flopping around in unease.

“Hey.” Timo is breathless as he opens the door. He is wearing a pair of jeans, waistband of his Calvin Klein underwear taut against his abdomen. He stands shirtless in the entry way, rubbing a towel over his hair. The brown strands flop against his forehead as he looks expectantly at me. He looks so sexy, warm and welcoming, with a gentle familiarity. “Didn’t realize you were in Jersey.” He becomes obviously tiffed, understandable since I dropped off the face of the planet… again.

“Yeah.” My voice is breaking, so I clear my throat. “I’ve been here for a couple of days.” I say, fingers twisting the cotton tighter in my palms.

“Ah.” His voice goes flat and he looks away in annoyance. “So we are back to you ignoring me?” I shake my head, dropping my eyes to the floor. I feel queasy and start shaking. I hope he can’t tell.

“Can I come in?” He pauses, dropping the towel down to his side, like he might not let me. But him and I both know that’s now how it goes with us. The smell of his cologne is strong with my heightened senses and I cough in discomfort as I walk past him.

“I’m going to get a shirt.” He disappears down the hall, coming back in a black t-shirt that hugs his body. He runs his fingers through his wet hair while looking at me. “I don’t have long. I’m… meeting a friend.” I stare at him, wondering if it’s a friend of the female variety. I really don’t have a right to ask, so I don’t. My gaze drops to the couch. “It’s just Kevin, Em. The Kings are playing the Islanders.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the island of his kitchen well across the room from me. His biceps bulge against the fabric as he studies me. “You don’t look like you came here for small talk. What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant.” It’s abrupt. I know. Almost too fast for him to catch in real time, but I can’t hold it in anymore. The words are too full and tumble from my mouth in a rush. My heart shutters with each anxious beat. I bravely lift my eyes back to him.

Timo seemingly glitches. He is confused, not quite understanding, like he wants to ask me to repeat what I said. Then, I watch as the registration gradually fills his body. He begins to stand taller, eyebrows dashing up his forehead. When it clicks, his blue eyes widen in alarm.

“Mine?” He asks quietly. I try not to flinch at the question, realizing he will, logically, want a paternity test. He has assets and money and a career to protect. Funny, I thought being pregnant without a boyfriend was the most shameful thing I’ve done in my life. I think that experience is going to top it. Eventually, I nod in response as tears fill my eyes. He pushes out a loaded breath that fills my chest with discomfort. I look briefly back to his face, seeing a million emotions dash across his features, none of them actually registering.

I can’t watch him process anymore. I begin to soothe myself with internal thoughts. It doesn’t really matter what he wants from this. I’ve already made my decision. I’m only here because Nico forced me. I cross my arms over my tender chest, walking towards the windows to see the city skyline. Tears distort the buildings together. I’m collapsing under so many different emotions. It’s like I’m seeing that plus sign all over again.

A drop slides from my left eye, gradually dragging down my cheek. I reach my hand up, flicking it away. My teeth dig into my trembling lip as I sniffle. Timo’s hand comes along my upper back, wrapping around my neck and gliding me into his body. His other hand wraps around my waist as he buries his face into my cheek. I enclose my arms around him, shoving my face into his chest and releasing my suffocating sobs into his shirt.

“I’m freaking out.” I squeak.

“I know. It’s going to be okay.” Even as his voice shakes, he is so, so gentle with me. His hands press me into his body like he wants to absorb and shield me. “What do you want to do?” He whispers into my hair. “It’s your choice.”

“I’m gonna do this… I’m keeping the baby. ” I tell him. I can feel his body deflate beneath me. For a moment, I don’t know why, but then he presses his face deeper into my hair, kissing my scalp with feathery kisses meant to soothe.

“Okay. I’m happy to hear that.”

I nod, glad that he isn’t pressuring me any which way. I don’t think I could handle his anger with me for wanting to see this through.

“Em, I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone.” I begin to tremble in his arms. He’s not even questioning further about this being ours. “Does Nico know?”

“Yeah. About everything. He is why I am here.”

“You weren’t going to tell me?” He stiffens, pain deepens his voice which makes me feel like shit.

“I.. well yeah, but maybe when we ran into each other in July and I was 9 months pregnant.” I pull back, tilting my chin to see his face. It’s calm and measured, which helps soothe some of the turmoil in me. He reaches up for my cheeks, stroking his thumbs to collect my tears.

“July?”

“Yeah, I confirmed everything at the doctor on Monday. I’m due July 26th.”

“Off-season.” He murmurs with appreciation. “Most NHL couples plan for years to get a July birthday.” I look away with a scrunched nose at the word couple, causing a heavy sigh to drop his shoulders. “Can we agree right now that you’re going to stop fighting the way you feel about us? Please. For our kid?” He says it so casually, like he’s used to and accepted the idea of our kid. My heart grows in my chest for him.

“Becoming a mom isn’t the only thing I’m terrified of.” I confess.

“Baby, I’ve promised you since day one that I would take care of you. I’m not going to let anything hurt you, including me.” He is so sure as he speaks to me. I drop my forehead back to his chest.

“Do you really want this?” I whisper to him, even as he wraps me tighter into his arms, tears dashing down my cheeks again. “You don’t have to do this.” I pull back, reaching up to hold his face in my hands. My thumbs rippling his skin with their pressure.

“You’re all I’ve wanted for years.” He presses our lips together. I cry into his mouth, feeling overwhelmed with everything that has and will happen between us. I feel like I don’t deserve this. Not his sweetness or his understanding at our situation.

“I’m sorry.” I bubble out between sobs. He runs his hand up my back to my head, encouraging my forehead to rest against his shoulder as he rocks us gently. There’s a whole laundry list I could apologize for, but I start with the big one. “I shouldn’t have taken the condom away from you. This is all my fault.”

“Weird, I thought I was the one who came inside of you… three times.” He chuckles at the memory.

“I encouraged it.”

“We both did.” He takes his share of the blame easily from me.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” I need him to know that.

“I know, Emma. You’ve been trying to get out of loving me for years. You would never do this on purpose.” I stare at him with blurred vision, blinking so the tears fall down my cheeks. Now I can see him clearly, looking at me like he might finally get the chance to love me for the rest of our lives. I swallow hard, then let myself surrender to him for good.

“I’ve loved you for a really long time, T.” I hum, eyes brightening in earnest with my confession.

He smiles because unlike me, he already knew that.

#TM: Loving & Leaving #Timo Meier #Timo Meier smut #Timo Meier series #New Jersey devils #my writing #hockey fan fiction #hockey writing #NHL writing

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tonguetyd · 7 months ago

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possibly strange question incoming: if you had to make a sandwich out of songs by your favorite artist, what songs would be which ingredient?

there must be bread, meat, cheese, and a condiment but you can add as many other toppings/condiments as you so choose.

THIS IS THE GREATEST QUESTION I COULD EVER RECEIVE.

Okay so off the bat, my favorite artist is a band called The Maine (I know my blog would suggest otherwise but there is just significantly less content of theirs in here. They are forever and always number one.)

I also know this isn’t the question but the best sandwich I ever had was a ciabatta roll with mozzarella and pesto, and all that would have made it better would have been a little turkey and some bacon. Delicious. So I will be recreating this in songs.

Ciabatta bread: the secret to good bread is crust-to-soft ratio. You don’t want it to stab your mouth, but it needs to have some structure to it to support your sandwich. So the first song that comes to mind for this is Slip The Noose. She is a little crunchy with that fast verse, but so very soft with that refrain that soars. Substantial enough to support that entire record. It’s even one of those that repeats at the beginning and end - it’s literally perfect sandwich bread. “I was on the verge of breaking down til you came around.”

Turkey: now we are talking good deli turkey, not thanksgiving level stuff. Nice and smooth and salty and delicious. That you can pile high. Gotta be something off Pioneer, that’s definitely the smoothest record. With a little bit of fire to it, as it’s absolutely a Fuck You To The Man record. I’ll go with Identify for that one. Great opening track, goes down easy, sets the stage for everything else. “3 2 1, here come the fireworks baby”

Bacon: what is not to love about our favorite supplemental meat. Everyone’s favorite. In that case I think I have to go with the crowd favorite song then. Which would be Black Butterflies and Deja Vu. If they’re not closing with Mars, they’re closing with this. You can’t help but love it. “I lose my voice when I look at you”

Mozzarella: I have a guilty announcement. I am not a big cheese person. The only exception. Is mozzarella. I could eat that shit forever. And it’s on everything. It goes GOOD on everything. It’s like the potato of cheeses. Fry it pizza it stick it on a Sammy. So we’re going for versatility. Play it for any kind of music fan and they’ll go “okay! Nice!” Which has GOT to be Dirty Pretty Beautiful. She’s funky (as good cheeses are) she’s fresh, and you gotta dance to her. “We got this thing that’s untouchable”

Pesto: on principle alone, the condiment is going to be Sticky. Because how could it not be (even tho pesto is not particularly a sticky condiment, as far as things go). But also, she is a bright song, makes you wanna stand in the sunlight and go “YES!” Which is kinda what pesto does. Or it’s at least what the pesto on this particular sandwich I had tailgating to see Bruce Springsteen did. “Wanna play you over and over again, sticky just like the song in my head”

AND THATS THE SANDWICH!!! This was incredible and so much fun that you dearly anon!

#answered asks #the maine #anonymous #the sandwich question #<- yes it is getting its own tag #very important to me

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thejoyofseax · 7 months ago

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An Early Irish Feast for Drachenwald's Spring Crown, AS LVIII

Spring Crown this year was hosted by Dun in Mara in the territory of Glen Rathlin. As with almost all SCA projects, this feast didn't quite hit all the things I intended. In particular, I'd been thinking of having documentation available alongside it, and of a few more dishes that didn't make it in the end. A fermented porridge was high on that list. Next time!

Before I start talking about food, though, let me thank my kitchen crew: THL Órlaith Caomhánach, Lady Gabrielle of Dun in Mara, Noble Mallymkun Rauði, Lady Erin Volya and Cassian of Allyshia. There were a few other folk in and out of the kitchen too (THL Yda Van Boulogne did excellent work on the various flavoured butters), but these five did the bulk of the work. Lady Erin also provided lunch; cooking at Crown for 80 people as her first event cookery is notable.

The main idea here was to lean heavily on seafood, which isn't often done in SCA feasts in my experience, and represents the food of Ireland well. I also wanted to include pork as a main meat, emphasise oats and barley, and use plain vegetables presented well. There were to be condiments on the table, hence Yda's butters: plain, honey, mackerel and garlic-and-chive, as well as green sauce (largely Órlaith's work, with Cass finishing it out). Condiments and the number of them available were an important aspect of Irish medieval hospitality.

I also wanted to nod to the usual progress of early Irish feasts, which started with formal services and frequently ended up so raucous and drunken that the nobility woke up the following morning on the hall floor along with everyone else. So we served to the tables to begin, and then had a less and less orderly buffet.

The first "course" was a set of pottages. The main one was pork, cabbage, onion, carrots, turnips, and barley, which had been slowly cooked down over a number of hours. There was also a version with lamb, for those who couldn't eat pork, and this doubled as the gluten-free version, having no barley. And there was a vegetarian one, including barley, but substituting mushrooms for the meat. These were served with flatbreads, risen yeast dough having been a tough proposition in the Irish climate (and still is, really; that's why the most Irish of breads is soda bread).

As that was consumed, we stocked the buffet with: sides of salmon (steamed then baked), mussels (boiled), monkfish and mackerel (also steamed and baked), chicken pieces (baked), hard-boiled eggs, turnips with butter, carrots with honey, samphire (new to many, most enthused about it), caramelised onions, creamed leeks, buttered cabbage with and without bacon bits, and a broth-based porridge, accompanied by a variety of flatbreads and oat pancakes. And as that all cleared, we put out fruit, some cheese, some oaten biscuits, and a "cheesecake", of sorts.

Everything was plausibly pre-Norman Irish, with the exception of the oaten biscuits and the cheesecake base, which were egregiously modern - although I could argue for something very like them. Simple cooking techniques mean that those are broadly plausible as well - steaming may seem incongruous, but I'll have more to say on that again.

It all seemed to go down well. A number of people said they weren't sure about fish, and then followed with "… but that was great!", and the green sauce, the samphire and the cheesecake were particular hits. The technique of doing a wide variety of simple things usually does well, I find; even the pickiest of eaters can usually have a few things, and the adventurous can pile their plates with a wide variety.

And I had energy enough left to wander around the party hall later offering plates of fruit, cheese and biscuits, which is one of my favourite things to do.

#sca #society for creative anachronism #medieval #mediaeval #reenactment #food history #medieval food #irish food #pre-norman irish food #ireland #medievalcore #medieval cooking #drachenwald #drachenwald crown #dun in mara

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its-jaytothemee · 7 months ago

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Until I Met You - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Creche, Part 2

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 6,150

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

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Summary: Tav tries to confront Halsin about his past and his plans for the future, paving the way to learn more about Tav's past. The adventuring party makes their way back to the creche hoping to cure the tadpoles, but find an unpleasant surprise. Part 7 of the slow burn fic. Halsin and Tav POVs

Tags: Slow burn, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual love confessions, eventual smut, light angst, implied past rape/non-con and abuse, graphic description of injuries.

A/N: Part 2 of the creche before we go back to the Underdark. Everyone just needs a hug and some therapy. This chapter is a bit longer than the rest, hopefully it's worth it!

Tav watched as Halsin crept away into the woods, leaving her utterly confused. They kept having these warm, intimate moments followed by him darting away without warning. She couldn’t keep the disappointment from souring her expression.

“What’s wrong, soldier?” Karlach came and took the seat she had been saving for Halsin.

“I just can’t figure him out, Karlach.” Tav shook her head as Halsin disappeared behind the trees.

“What do you mean?” She shoved a large piece of cheese into her mouth.

Tav chewed her lip for a moment, thinking back on her conversation with Halsin. She told Karlach about it, emphasizing the last part when she was certain he was about to make a move. She decided to tell her about their conversation from the morning too. How relaxed he was with her, how flustered he got when he held her hand, how she purposefully took her time untangling bits of his hair to make everything last longer.

“Hmm.” Karlach watched the flames in front of them for a moment.

“Hmm? That’s all you have to say now?” Tav laughed lightly. “Earlier today you were trying to get my tadpole to spill the beans on my behalf, and now you just have ‘hmm’?”

“I dunno, Tav. It honestly sounds like he’s…sad.”

“I suppose.” She thought about his past few days, how he had been captured by goblins and given up his life at the grove.

“You know I’d love to see you two together, soldier. But maybe right now he just needs to have a friend.” She smiled softly at Tav. “And you’re a great friend to have.”

“Thanks. I guess I could give that a try. Something is just off about him, though. Like there’s something he’s hiding.” Tav set her small plate of food down as she watched the smoke from the fire swirl in front of her.

“We all have our secrets. I’m sure Halsin is no different.” Karlach continued snacking on her place of assorted foods they had found that day.

“Except your secrets aren’t taking us into a dark curse that corrupts everything it touches.” Tav whispered back.

“Then ask him. He seems like a reasonable enough guy. Maybe he just doesn’t want to pile more worry on top of everything else we’re dealing with right now.” She said through a mouthful of bread.

“You can be remarkably wise you know that?” Tav said, gently nudging her with one of her utensils.

“Imagine how wise I would be if I could live as long as you.” She flashed her friendly smile.

Tav laughed and excused herself, turning to follow after Halsin.

***

Halsin found a small clearing away from camp, far enough that he could concentrate and try to refocus himself. Shame was welling up inside of him for leading Tav on like that. The look on her face as he left her there waiting was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

He sat on the ground and took a few deep, steadying breaths. He sat still, trying to listen to the sounds of nature around him. An owl was quietly hooting nearby, there was a stream somewhere close as well. The running water was a soothing melody mixed with the wind rustling through the trees. After a while, the sound of footsteps crunching among the fallen leaves and twigs were added to the mix.

“Halsin?” Tav’s voice was quiet behind him.

“Oh, hello Tav.” He responded quietly.

“What happened back there?” She asked, moving around to sit beside him. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. I just realized that I perhaps needed some time alone to contemplate my next steps.”

“Your next steps?” Concern was growing in her voice. “Are you leaving?”

“No! Of course not. I just…” Halsin felt flustered trying to explain himself. Once again not wanting to give her false hope or toy with her emotions.

“I know you are all desperate to be rid of the tadpoles, most understandably. I had just hoped we would take the path to Moonrise sooner. That it would be the path you chose to look for a cure.” His voice was quiet and sadder than he meant it to be.

“Look, I understand wanting to help find this cult and keep them from infecting more people, from creating more mind flayers. What I don’t understand is why you’re so anxious to go back there for the shadow curse.” She was staring at him intently.

“I have a responsibility to banish those shadows.”

“But why? It’s not your fault that they came about, Halsin. No one here would be happier than me if we could rid the land of that curse but…” She trailed off, looking out into the woods. “You’re talking about taking on Shar, one of the most notoriously spiteful goddesses in the pantheon.”

“We don’t have to face Shar herself…” He cut himself off, not wanting to say any more about his plan. Tav picked up on his sudden anxiety.

“What do you know, Halsin?” She asked, obviously suspicious.

“Nothing for sure.” He responded. It wasn’t a total lie. There was no guarantee that his plan would work. “Put it from your mind for now, I’ll know more once we reach Moonrise.”

“Put it from my mind?” She asked, incredulous. “You’ve tasked us with entering one of the most dangerous places in Faerûn, and you want me to simply put it from my mind?”

Halsin sighed, how could he explain this to her in a way that made sense? In a way that wouldn’t get her hopes up?

“There could be a way, but I won’t know for sure until we arrive. I have spent years seeking Silvanus’s favor; I am confident that he will show me the way.”

“So, we’re going to go charging into the darkness of the shadow curse, armed with nothing but the hope that your god will lead us through it?” Tav’s tone had darkened.

“Yes.” He said plainly. There was little else to be said.

“Ugh!” She threw her hands up in frustration, standing up to pace in front of him. “The blind devotion you all have for your gods is bordering on insanity.” Her angry eyes pierced into him.

“I assure you, Tav, my devotion is not blind.” He could feel his temper rising as he stood up. “Just because you’ve lost all your faith in the gods does not give you the right to pass judgement on those of us who have not.”

She held her glare, nostrils flared and angry.

“I have all the proof I need that my faith is not one-sided, and I feel no obligation to explain myself to you.” He surprised himself with the anger in his words.

“Of course! Why would you feel the need to explain anything? We should just trust you given that you’re the all-knowing Archdruid. None of us could ever understand what it’s like to have regrets and grief and the weight of the entire fucking world on our shoulders!” Tav shouted back at him.

“Here you are, insisting that we must go to Moonrise, knowing as well as I do what that could entail. Yet you aren’t willing to share your plan for what we will do when we get there. You’re asking us to blindly follow you into the darkest magic I have ever experienced in my life. Surely you of all people can understand why I’m asking for a little more to go on!” Her fists were balled up at her side, her eyes never leaving his.

“You’re not in charge here, Halsin. We make these decisions together. We want to help you; I want to help you. But if you want us to follow you, you need to give us more than a prayer and a hope.” Her glare held steady.

“Then I’m afraid I have nothing more to offer you.” His voice was colder than he intended it to be, causing Tav to recoil slightly.

“The fact of the matter is, Tav, that we have only known each other a short time. You have proven a valuable ally and a good leader, but that does not mean you are owed information about my past and about my faith. And the way you’re acting now, I’m starting to wonder if I can actually trust you with this knowledge at all!” Halsin realized he was yelling now.

“Well…forgive me for misinterpreting our relationship.” Her lip quivered ever so slightly before she regained her composure.

“Master Halsin.” She gave an exaggerated bow before turning on her heels to go back to camp. He glared after her as she stormed off, muttering profanities under her breath the entire way.

Master Halsin.

There it was. Just like that, Tav saw him the same way the druids in the grove had. No longer seeing him as a peer, but as an authority figure. Why couldn’t he just tell her? He understood her worries all too well. All she asked for was some assurance that they wouldn’t be strolling blindly through the shadow cursed lands. The place that took her brother from her.

He let out a frustrated grunt as he fell back down on his knees, desperately trying to commune with Silvanus.

Oak Father…hear me, please. Guide me, help me see the way forward.

Nothing. It had been months since he was able to hear Silvanus speak with him. This wasn’t the longest time he had gone without hearing his voice, but every day they drew closer to Moonrise his worry grew. The worry that he was too late, that he missed his chance, that Thaniel was forever lost. That he failed…again.

He squeezed his eyes shut, reciting the ritual taught to him all those nights ago over and over in his mind until he eventually fell into a restless trance.

***

Tav didn’t rest well that night. Guilt churned in her gut, eating away at her insides. Memories of her life in Baldur’s Gate swarmed her dreams.

It was the night of the gala. One of the last galas she attended as Lady Mendelre. She was trying to find Tev before the festivities began. One of the new servants was arranging more food on a nearby table.

“Excuse me, have you seen Tev’aron?” Tav’ahria asked softly, not wanting to startle the young woman.

“No m’lady.” She kept her eyes fixed on the floor.

“If you do, could you send him to find me?” She smiled as she picked up one of the tiny pastries on the table and popped it in her mouth. The filling was sweet and creamy, with a slightly tart aftertaste.

“Um, yes. Yes of course.” Her eyes darted nervously around the room before she gave a small bow and scurried away.

That was strange…

“You’ll find no help from the staff tonight in locating your brother, Tav’ahria.” Her father’s voice was low and cold. She steeled herself before turning to face him. “They’ve been instructed to keep you two apart whenever possible. I told you, there will be no hiding away together this evening.”

“I only wished to speak to him for a moment before the guests arrived. Be assured my attention will not falter this evening.” Her voice was shaking slightly, she never was able to hide her fear from her father.

“Oh, I have no doubt of that, little flower. But just to be sure, allow me to give you a little extra incentive.” He walked up next to her and held out his arm. She draped hers around it and let him lead her from the room.

“You have done more for our house than you know, more than your brother ever has. I’m prepared to name you my sole heir should tonight go as planned.” He said the words as if they were meant to honor her, but they just made her feel sick.

“You would disown Tev, and have me solely inherit the Mendelre estate?” She asked in disbelief. Her father never realized that she didn’t covet wealth and power like he did. Did he truly believe she would abandon her brother all for a title?

“Tev’aron made his choice long ago.” There was enough venom in her father’s words to poison every ounce of food and beverage at this gathering.

“I know of his plan to run, to whisk you away from your home and family. That sort of dishonesty hardly befits the patron of our house. But I am offering you an alternative, my daughter. Attempt to run with him and face the consequences or stay here and claim your birthright.”

She stayed silent at his side; he kept her arm held tight against him so she couldn’t get away.

“Why tell me this?” She asked, silently begging the tears stinging her eyes to stay there.

“Because Tav’ahria, it is time for you to grow up. It is time for you to take your responsibilities seriously rather than wasting time playing soldier with Tev’aron. I indulged your combat training because it kept you quiet and entertained. Finesse with a bow is a time-honored elven skill, but it is time for you to become someone else. Imagine what you could accomplish if you did away with these distractions.”

“I’ll consider it, father. So long as you do not force Tev’aron away. He is still my brother, and he is very dear to me.” She surprised herself with her demanding tone.

“You’ll do more than consider it, little flower. As for Tev’aron…the choice will be up to him I suppose.” His words left little up for discussion.

“But should your brother continue to interfere, well, I would have no choice but to separate the two of you.” His expression darkened, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. “I have no doubt one of the great houses in Karsoluthiyl or Menzoberranzan would take a great interest in him. You do know how the matriarchs enjoy the novelty of surface-dwelling elves.”

It was at that moment that Tav’ahria knew she truly hated her father. Of course, she’d never let him ship Tev off to one of the great drow houses to be sold into slavery. Or worse. He knew this all too well. She could gamble with her brother’s life and freedom, or she could sacrifice her own. The choice was an easy one.

“That won’t be necessary.” Tav’ahria whispered back to her father. “My loyalty is yours – I will ensure he does not interfere.” One traitorous tear made its way down her face as he led her to the massive doors to their estate.

“Excellent. Now, do be a dear and dry your eyes. We don’t want to give Lord Sylvyre the wrong impression.” The corner of his mouth was drawn up into a smirk. He released his grip on her arm slightly as her mother joined her at her other side, ready to present their little flower to their guests.

She shot up out of her bedroll early in the morning, her entire body covered in a thin layer of sweat. Tears stung her eyes, even now when she had a bad dream, she still only wished to talk to Tev. Remembering that he wasn’t here, she realized there was someone else she wanted to talk to right now.

“Fuck.” She mumbled under her breath.

Tav quietly stepped outside of her tent hoping Halsin would be sitting by the fire like he was yesterday. Not finding him there, she started walking back into the woods thinking maybe he stayed out there all night.

She found him sitting exactly where she left him last night.

“Halsin? Are you awake?” She called out softly.

He turned his head slightly over his shoulder to look at her, but he didn’t say anything in response. She walked over next to him and knelt on the ground, sitting back on her legs.

Still nothing.

“I uh…” She quickly cleared the lump forming in her throat. “I think I owe you an apology.”

Halsin stayed still, staring at the ground in front of him, his hands resting on his lap.

“You were right. I have no right to your past. I know very well how difficult it can be to share painful memories. I had no right to expect that of you.”

Silence.

“I acted out like a child…I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Only quietness greeted her still.

“I wanted you to know that I’ve already come to enjoy your company a great deal. I know we’ve only known one another for a few days, but I trust you. More than I probably should.” She chuckled awkwardly.

No response.

“If you think we can make it through the shadow curse, if you really believe you can help guide us through…then I believe you. I may have lost my faith, but I’m willing to trust yours.”

Still no response

“I’m sorry, Halsin. Truly.” She slowly reached over and gently held one of his hands.

Nothing. Not that she could blame him.

“I’ll…I’ll leave you to your meditation.” She said quietly, feeling foolish now for pursuing him out here when he obviously wanted to be alone. She tried to stand up, but suddenly Halsin gripped her hand, nearly crushing it.

“Tav…” He started, his voice was soft and grief-stricken. “I want to tell you everything. But I can’t.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” She scooted around to be in front of him, keeping her voice calm.

“No…you don’t.” He whispered back. “I’ve studied the curse for years, yet I still can’t guarantee I can do anything about it. My words earlier were harsh, and I apologize for them.”

She watched him quietly.

“I also trust you, Tav. But this has been my focus for decades. If I lose that focus now…” Halsin looked away, seeming embarrassed, or ashamed. There was something here that she just couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Tav studied him for a moment, taking the time to really try and understand the look in his eyes. There was fear, anguish, anger, and guilt. So much guilt, like a deep sorrow that had likely plagued him for the decades he spent focusing on the curse. For the first time since they met, she could see how truly lonely Halsin was. She thought back to their conversation after she had been injured in the Underdark, how he hadn’t laughed in so long. She’d sort of thought it was an exaggeration, but now seeing the sadness in his eyes, her heart broke for him all over again.

He needed time to deal with whatever this was before he could confide in her. That was a pain she understood well. Wanting so desperately to share your grief but being unable to, for fear of judgement, fear of rejection, fear of retribution. How long had it taken her to share her pain with someone besides Tev?

Maybe right now he just needs to have a friend. She heard Karlach’s voice in the back of her mind.

Tav tentatively reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t move away from her touch, but he didn’t look at her either. Slowly, she brought her other arm up to wrap around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He tensed but didn’t pull away. Despite his size, he somehow felt so small in her arms right now. He didn’t hug her back yet, but he did release a couple of shaky breaths into her shoulder, relaxing slightly. She squeezed him tighter, refusing to let go until he gave her any indication that he wanted her to do so.

She could be patient with him, she could wait.

***

Halsin froze as Tav’s arms gently pulled him close to her, surprised by the gesture. He released his held breath, relaxing a little bit into her shoulder. She hugged him tighter, her hands digging into his back and neck. Her embrace was friendly and familiar, slowly soothing some of his anxiety away.

His chest ached again, but this time it was different. It wasn’t lust and desire, it was an overwhelming sense of relief and safety. A warm feeling that let him know that right here and now, someone cared about him.

Gods he didn’t realize how much he had missed hugs. There had been friendly, quick hugs with druids in the grove. Many of the animals in his care of course loved to be hugged and scratched and snuggled. But no one had ever really tried to seek him out and offer one to him. He was usually reaching out to others, often met with indifference or obligated acceptance. Even when he returned from the goblin camp, the friendliest gestures he received were handshakes and light pats on the back or arm. Nothing like this…

When was the last time he had been this close to someone? When was the last time someone held him like this?

His arms suddenly shot up to wrap around her waist, hugging her back and holding onto her as if his life depended on it. He knew how important it was to keep focused on his mission, but maybe this could be enough for now. Maybe it could be enough for them to be companions, to be friends.

“I’m sorry, Halsin. For everything.” She said, sniffling lightly. “I understand you need time. But I hope you know that I meant it when I said I already consider you a friend.”

“Thank you, Tav.” He pushed his face further into her shoulder. “I could really use a friend right now.”

She stayed there with him until the sun started to rise again, never once trying to move away from him. It must have been hours. Her hands didn’t wander outside of a gentle stroke on his shoulders every now and then. She just sat with him. Finally, he gained the strength to pull away from her, although she seemed reluctant to let him go.

“We should head back. It’s a potentially big day today.” She pulled him up off the ground with her.

“Yes, with any luck you’ll return tonight free of the threat of becoming illithid.” He took a deep breath as he stretched his stiff limbs.

“And then we’d be free to go on to Moonrise.” She said quietly. “If that’s something you still want.”

“It’s what needs to be done.” He said decisively.

“Very well. First, cure the tadpoles. Second, fight the shadows.” She smiled softly at him.

He followed her back to camp to sit by the fire. The others in camp weren’t stirring yet, giving him a few more precious moments with his friend. Thankful for her understanding and even more thankful for her company.

***

Tav let Lae’zel take the lead in the Creche. She had no intention of screwing up their chance at a cure by saying the wrong thing in front of the easily agitated githyanki. Their first encounter didn’t do much to reassure her. The first group of soldiers they spoke with immediately called for their deaths, but Lae’zel persuaded them otherwise.

“I don’t like this, soldier. Something doesn’t feel right.” Karlach whispered from her side.

“I don’t either, but Lae’zel seems confident, and they did direct us to the infirmary. We’ll follow her lead until someone here makes the first move.” Tav responded quietly so only they could hear.

“And if Lae’zel doesn’t follow us?” Karlach asked.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Tav decided, her eyes constantly darting around their surroundings.

Judging eyes followed them through the halls, whispers of why this strange group was permitted access to their Creche. She wanted to trust Lae’zel, but she was starting to worry that this was all a trap.

Pain ripped through Tav’s head as she merged her mind with Lae’zel’s. It was a searing splinter in her brain, threatening to split it in two. The alien device currently rifling through Lae’zel’s psyche was causing her pain unlike that of any she had ever known.

Surely this cannot be purification, there is no way her body can survive such a torment.

“Vlaakith tavki na’zin. Vlaakith tavki na’zin.” Lae’zel’s pained cries echoed off the walls.

Tav whipped around to the strange githyanki doctor watching the horrific scene.

“She’s in far too much pain, there is no way she will survive this. Get her out!” She yelled.

“The zaith’isk is working as intended.” The doctor assured her. Another piercing scream from Lae’zel rang in their ears.

Working as intended?

This was not purification, this was death. The githyanki cure for a mind flayer tadpole was of course, death.

“Get out of there, Lae’zel. You won’t survive this torment!” She begged her companion.

“My queen…hear me!” Lae’zel’s agony dripped off every syllable as she ignored Tav’s pleas.

“REMOVE HER! REMOVE HER NOW!” The dream visitor’s voice shouted into her mind.

The pain Tav was sharing with Lae’zel immobilized her. She tried to cut off the connection but fell to her knees from the effort. The others gathered around her, panic spreading between them. She was able to get one more look at Lae’zel before a blinding light took over her vision, followed by the sound of a loud explosion.

“Shka’keth!” She heard the doctor cry out as Lae’zel was thrown back over by Tav.

Her vision swam momentarily, her ears ringing from the blast. The zaith’isk was destroyed, and the ghustil was striding from the room as Lae’zel shouted what Tav could only assume were profanities after her.

This isn’t a good sign.

More githyanki soldiers.

Each room they entered came with another wave of skilled fighters.

“Do you remember when we used to get annoyed with Lae’zel for saying her people were so much better than us?” Tav yelled at Astarion as she shot another arrow through a young githyanki’s leg.

“Of course, darling. It was most rude of her.” He shouted back just before he sunk a bite into another one’s neck.

“I’m starting to think she was right!” Tav pushed another soldier off her, shoving them just far enough away to be able to shoot an arrow through their eye. A sword grazed her on the arm as she tried to fall back to higher ground. The cut stung, but it wasn’t too deep. She ran to climb a nearby ladder but was kicked down by an archer standing at the top of it.

Tav landed hard on her shoulder. When she got back up and tried to draw her bow, it protested heavily at the pain. She was able to get one arrow shot before her arm gave out, unable to withstand the tension of her bow.

Sword it is then.

She grabbed the small sword from her belt just in time to parry a swing from another githyanki that had run into the room. Astarion appeared beside her, stabbing one of his daggers into her attacker’s throat. They stood back-to-back as they furiously fought off the githyanki warriors that had descended on their party. Her arms were aching from the effort of their nonstop fighting.

In the chaos, she spared a look at Lae’zel. Their gith companion was in a complete rage, rivaling that of Karlach. She sliced through her kin turned enemies, tears staining her face and streaking the blood spattered there. Tav was thrown off by the absolute heartache the scene caused her. Lae’zel’s entire world had been upended today, forsaken by her queen and her fellow githyanki simply because she was unlucky enough to be kidnapped by mind flayers.

Tav turned her attention back to the assault at hand. There would be time for grieving later. For now, they just had to survive the Creche.

***

The sun was nearly set when Halsin finally saw his companions making their way back into camp. He was expecting happy, refreshed faces blessedly free of tadpoles. Maybe even some cheering or excited chatter. What he saw instead was seven utterly beaten and bloodied adventurers, dragging their feet and staggering back into camp.

Oak Father give me strength, what happened?

Tav and Wyll were helping support Lae’zel, who was limping in between them and now carrying a massive githyanki greatsword on her back. But something else was wrong, it almost seemed like a part of Lae’zel was missing. He went straight to Tav to try and figure out what had happened. As he moved in to help hold Lae’zel up, he quickly looked Tav over as well. Her face was bloodied and scratched up, but otherwise she seemed to be moving along just fine.

“Tav! What is going on here? You all look horrible.” Halsin gently moved her out of the way to help guide Lae’zel to a seat near the fire. She didn’t answer right away, her head was hung low, and her split lower lip was trembling. Seeing her face bruised made his blood run hot, blindly hating whoever did this to her.

“It was all a lie. The cure, purification…all of it.” Tav whispered, giving Lae’zel a pained look. For just a moment, Halsin was ready to turn his fury on Lae’zel, thinking that she had betrayed the group. But as soon as he looked into her eyes, it was plain to see that she had been lied to as well. Her proud face was now laced with agony and grief. Tav walked over behind her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Lae’zel. Truly, I am. Know that we’ll help you in any way we can. I hope you’ll continue with us to Moonrise.” Tav’s voice was soft and full of sadness.

“Chk.” Lae’zel responded indifferently, but Halsin did notice that she had slightly leaned into Tav’s touch.

“I’ll explain everything later. If you can help Lae’zel first, I think Shadowheart and I can manage the rest.” Tav mumbled towards him before slowly walking off towards the others.

He watched her walk away, feeling whiplash at the sudden change in the party’s demeanor. Tav and Shadowheart were working together to try and patch up the rest of their party. Lae’zel was by far the most injured, but some of her ailments were possibly even beyond his own talents.

“Lae’zel, what happened out there?” Halsin tried to keep his voice low and calm.

“The zaith’isk…it had been tampered with to lure infected gith to their deaths.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“I’m…I’m so sorry. To find such a deception after you were so sure of a cure...” He started slowly healing the cuts adorning her body. Her foot also appeared to have some broken bones in it.

“I am hshar’lak. No longer welcomed as a child of Vlaakith, there will be no ascension for me, no red dragon mount. I will be hunted by her faithful kith’raki for the rest of my days.” Lae’zel’s usual gruff voice was soft now, and Halsin swore he saw a tear escape one of her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Lae’zel.” He started another healing spell before continuing. “Perhaps we’ll be able to find another solution at Moonrise Towers.”

Lae’zel said nothing in response. She sat still as he finished patching up her wounds. Once he was done, she shuffled away to her tent without another word. A small thorn of guilt stuck into his side from the relief he felt. The selfish part of him was glad that there was no cure, now he would have even more days in the company of this strange group. In the company of Tav. He looked over toward their other companions, trying to find her. Not seeing her among them, he walked over by Karlach.

“Where did Tav go?” He asked, still scanning the camp.

“She said she wanted to take a walk. Don’t worry though, she was all healed by the time she left. Her and Shadowheart patched us all up.” Karlach smiled halfheartedly at him.

“Ah, I see.” His heart sank a little, he had been hoping to hear more from her about what had happened today. The disappointment must have been evident on his face.

“She went that way.” She nodded her head to the side, her smile broadening a little. Halsin smiled back at her and went to take a step to go find Tav, but hesitated.

“It’s okay, Halsin. You can go after her. I’m sure she’d enjoy the company.” Karlach urged him, her smile growing with each passing second.

He let out a relieved sigh before nodding to her and heading off into the woods after Tav.

***

Tav found a secluded area nearby where a small stream cut through the trees. The soft sound of the rushing water was soothing. She took off her shoes and let her sore feet rest in the water, bringing her knees up so her chin could rest on them. Today weighed heavily on her. Part of her knew the miracle cure at the Creche was too good to be true, yet she brought everyone here anyway. Despite her reservations, she hoped that they could have been freed from the tadpoles. If she didn’t have to worry about the tadpole, it might be easier to join Halsin on his quest to Moonrise. She was beginning to think his reservations about her had something to do with the fact that she could transform into a mind flayer at any moment.

It was nights like tonight that she really missed Tev. He always had the answers when she couldn’t find them. He was the reason she was here now and not locked away from the world in her family’s estate. Even with the tadpole, she much preferred this life to the one he helped pull her from. Footsteps from behind her brought her away from the memories.

“Are you alright?” Halsin’s low, soothing voice called out to her.

“Never better.” Her eyes were fixed on the flowing stream in front of her. He kept walking until he was standing over her.

“May I?” He gestured to the ground next to her. Tav nodded, moving one of her shoes out of the way.

Halsin sat down and removed his sandals so he could also rest his feet in the water alongside her. His arms rested on the ground behind him.

“I hope you haven’t come here to tell me that your god has forsaken and turned on you as well. I think we’ve met our quota for that problem in our little adventuring party.” Tav turned her head to look at him, resting her cheek on her knees. He let out a light chuckle in response.

“So far as I am aware, Silvanus has no qualms with me. The Oak Father does tend to be much more forgiving than a deity such as Vlaakith though.”

Tav smiled lightly, turning her attention back to the cool water running over her toes.

“I thought you’d like to hear that Lae’zel will be fine, physically that is. Unfortunately, her mind may take some time to recover, she was put through a great ordeal today. I’m sure with support from all of you she will recuperate.”

“First Mystra, now Vlaakith…shall we make a bet on which god we’ll piss off next?” Tav asked.

“Well, if I have anything to say about it, Shar will likely be angry with us if we’re able to dispel the shadows surrounding Moonrise Towers.” Halsin was half joking, but obviously concerned about the fact that they may well be planning on screwing over a spiteful goddess.

“Oh good, while we’re at it why don’t we just go ahead and take on Bhaal as well? We can end up turned into bloody gore piles in some rotting temple. Actually, why stop there? Let’s add the rest of the Dead Fucking Three. You know, just to make it a challenge.” She threw herself backwards onto the ground, crossing her arms over her face. Halsin snickered at her childish display.

“What happened today? Lae’zel told me about something called a zaith’isk.”

Slowly, she uncovered her face and filled him in on their day fighting through the Creche. The ghustil, the zaith’isk, the inquisitor. Their brief, yet terrifying, encounter with Vlaakith. She told him all about their dream visitor that resided in the prism, how they could communicate with them via the tadpole. He listened to her intently, the new information about the dream visitor sinking in. She told him about the waves of githyanki fighters they faced and how they would likely be hunting them to the ends of Faerûn.

“At least we got the neat, ancient mace.” Tav rubbed her eyes, fighting off the tiredness trying to weigh them down. Halsin chuckled lightly.

“So, what now?” He asked as he fell back onto the ground to lay next to her.

“Now…Now it looks like we’re going back to the Underdark.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Then on to Moonrise.”

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