#like I said I’ve just been having very strong mood swings << | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

evilwriter-originals · 1 year ago

Text

Clipped Wings - Chapter 4

@samatedeansbroccoli @lashlamb13 (Let me know if you would like to be added or removed to the tag list.)

---

“Anaria?”

“Hm?” She’d been speaking with Hali as her lady in waiting ate breakfast, and her thoughts must have wandered.

“Are you okay?” Hali pushed her empty plate away. “You seem in a dour mood.”

Anaria rubbed at her temple. “I am. What my father said about leaving me behind makes sense, but I don’t like it.”

Hali simply nodded. “He’s trying to look out for you.”

“I know. It’s just…”

“He should have told you earlier.”

It was Anaria’s turn to nod. Hali could read her like an open book.

“You’re still welcome to come with me to Anika’s class,” Hali offered.

Anaria thought about it for a bit before declining. It would be nice to spend time with her friend, but struggling with healing magic was the last thing she wanted to do right now. She felt especially restless after her nap.

“I think I’ll spar with Sylvae,” Anaria said. “I kind of blew up at her yesterday. Maybe this will help both of us.”

A worried look crossed Hali’s face.

“Look, if I get hurt, you’ll be there to heal me, right? Besides, I’ve never gotten hurt that badly from sparring.”

Hali didn’t look happy with this, but she just nodded, and took a sip of her tea.

---

Anaria was good with a sword. Or, she at least thought so. She’d been training since she was 6. Her father hadn’t liked her starting so young, but she’d been stubborn and persistent about it. So, here she was, 15 years later, staring down Sylvae in one of the palace’s main courtyards. The Royal Guard trained here, and Anaria considered it an honor to be included.

Anaria paced a section of the courtyard, sword drawn, wings spread in a display of dominance and power. Sylvae was across from her, doing very much the same thing. They’d clashed once already, were both nursing some bruises, and had parted to take on a new angle.

“You really should have told me what my father had planned,” Anaria said, trying not to let too much anger into her voice. She didn’t want this to turn into a real fight.

Sylvae rushed her. Anaria brought up her sword to defend herself, the blades clashing together. They were using the flat of the blade so as not to draw blood, but Sylvae’s blow was still strong; it sent a shockwave down Anaria’s arms.

Luckily, Anaria’s arms were used to it. She pushed at the connection, trying to shove Sylvae away.

“And how would you have taken it?” Sylvae asked. “Just as well as last night, I presume?”

That angered her. With a cry, Anaria shoved hard, and Sylvae stumbled back. It was Anaria’s turn to rush her. She tried going in for Sylvae’s knees, but Sylvae easily evaded the blow with a strong flap of her wings, the sword swinging just beneath her boots.

Sylvae gave a powerful flap of tawny wings, charging Anaria. There was little space for Anaria to move out of the way, and she found herself down on her back, the air knocked out of her.

She managed to roll out of the way in time to avoid Sylvae’s “death blow”. She pushed herself up, and their swords met again, standing between two angered women.

“You’re immature,” Sylvae said through gritted teeth.

Anaria wanted to argue, but, in a way that was very unlike her, she relented.

Because maybe she was immature. She’d thrown a fit and stormed out on her father during a conversation, and was still throwing a fit about this.

“I…” Anaria lowered her sword, feeling Sylvae release pressure on hers. She sighed, ran a hand through her sweaty hair. Her braid was coming undone. “I’m upset,” she said. “I don’t want to marry a human I’ve never met.”

Sylvae frowned, nodded in understanding. “I wouldn’t want to marry one either, if I’m being honest.”

Anaria put a hand to her forehead, shook her head. “It’s just a mess. My father should have told me. I shouldn’t blame you for his mishaps.” She met Sylvae’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Sylvae sprung at her, and for an instant, Anaria thought she saw anger twist her features.

But as their swords clashed, Sylvae smiled.

“So we’re not fighting anymore?”

“Not for real, no.”

“You’ll go easy on me then?”

Sylvae laughed. “Absolutely not!”

---

Anaria hissed as Hali felt over the bruises across her left side. Hali winced. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt her friend more.

“Sorry. I’m just trying to get a feel for the injury.”

“Nothing’s broken, right?”

“Mm…” Hali delved down with what little magical ability she had, pouring it into Anaria’s body. Anaria flinched, feeling the discomfort of that. “Some cracks, but nothing truly broken.”

“Can you fix it?”

Hali bit her lip, looking at Anaria with uncertainty. She wasn’t very confident with her skill in this yet. Then she looked towards Anika, who stood nearby, wings like a blue jay’s spread loosely.

“You can do this, Hali,” she encouraged her.

Hali took a deep breath, and with the magic she had in Anaria, she mended. She felt all the little cracks in her ribs, gave them a push to speed up the healing process, to close up and be strong.

Anaria gasped and flinched, flapping her wings a little. Magical healing had its merits, but it was always an uncomfortable process for the patient. Hali hadn’t felt it herself, but it made sense to her why it would be so uncomfortable. She was literally going into her body and telling a natural process to speed up.

“I think I did it,” Hali said breathlessly, feeling a little drained. A smile spread her lips. The bruises would take some time to fade on their own, but the ribs themselves were better. It was just a minor injury now. “Feel any different?” she asked of Anaria.

Anaria twisted her head to look at the bruises, gently prodded at one, then lowered her tunic.

“It feels better,” she told Hali, also smiling. She took her hand, gave it a squeeze. “I’m grateful. Thank you.”

“And I’m sure those bruises would appreciate a hot bath,” Anika said.

“All of me would appreciate a bath,” Anaria responded. “Maybe not too hot though. I was just outside.”

Hali nodded. “I’ll ready it for you.”

“Have Wyniin do it.”

“Oh, I really don’t mind.” Hali was telling the truth. She didn’t mind waiting on Anaria, even as fatigue began to set in. She’d used her magic a lot that day, and she didn’t have a strong ability to begin with.

But gods, she’d really wanted to learn to heal, and she was doing it! She sent a quick prayer of thanks to Inlego, the God (or Goddess) of Magic. She hadn’t been granted a lot of power, but what she did have, she could use to be helpful.

“All right,” Anaria ceded. She touched Hali’s hair affectionately. “Lukewarm maybe?”

Hali nodded, smiled, and then she was off. She knew how much water Anaria liked in her baths, what scents and soaps she used. It wasn’t very difficult for her to set up.

She was distracted while doing it though, distracted by Anaria’s touch, her voice, her smile. Hali hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, and only had some weeks ago, but she was in love with Anaria. Completely in love.

She saw the same appeal in her that men did, but knew their relationship was closer than that, and that just made it worse. Here she was in love with the princess of Nessar, her best friend, when said princess was arranged to marry a human prince.

A tear may have mixed itself into the bath water.

---

It had been a very long time since Sol had seen a human. Not since that night…

Sol steeled himself. This was different. This wasn’t a group of humans sent to assassinate the royal family. This was a human king.

They’d agreed to meet at their borders, both too wary to venture past them into the heart of the other’s kingdom. Shimmerfort straddled the line between the two countries. It was a perfect meeting place.

About four decades wasn’t necessarily long enough for Sol to give up his distrust of humans, but he wanted to make an effort, extend a kind hand. He could feel war looming, tensions brewing, and he would need allies if he was to win it. What that war was though? He, as of yet, had no idea.

Shimmerfort had been abandoned for decades. For a long while, it had served as a reminder of the bitter tensions between Nessari and humans, something that was constantly fought over. But, after some time, both sides had deemed the fort not worth the fighting, and had both abandoned it to time.

Now though, it was being warmed with fires in the dusty hearths, and it’s age being hidden by fresh cleaning, furniture, and tapestries. This would make a good meeting place for both kings.

Sol had arrived first, it had seemed. Perhaps it was faster to fly than it was to walk, or use some animal as a mode of transportation. (Sol remembered that humans often rode horses. Why the animals tolerated this: he had no idea.)

The flight had taken about two days, and Sol was tired after it, but he stood in the courtyard, cleaned up as best as he could be, hands folded in front of him. He had no weapons with him, though his guards were armed. He wanted to show that he was here for peace, but not let his guard down too easily. Besides, if anything went wrong, he had his magic, something humans didn’t possess.

A horn blew from the wall, a clear note in the cloudless day. Dyon and his entourage had arrived.

“Open the gates!” Sol called. He was nervous for this, but he wasn’t going to admit it, or show it, to anyone.

Sol got his first glimpse of a human in a very long time, and the king and his men came riding in. The king was a tall man, around Sol’s height, with dark blond hair and an equally colored pointed beard, (though his beard had some gray in it.) His eyes were a dark gray, his nose pointed.

He dismounted his horse easily, showing no soreness in having been riding. Sol didn’t understand how humans did it.

He took off his riding gloves as his men began to dismount as well, taking his doing so as a sign of being able to themselves.

He was looking around the fort, completely ignoring Sol. Sol tried his best not to frown and keep his expression passive. He wondered where the prince was, as he didn’t appear to be here. Had Dyon changed his mind and decided to leave his child behind as well?

“You call this a fort?” Dyon asked incredulously. “No wonder we stopped fighting over it.”

Oh, he’s that kind of person, Sol thought. He knew, right then and there, that he didn’t like this man. However, this meeting wasn’t about whether they liked each other personally or not—it was about the good of their nations.

“You call that a greeting?” Sol couldn’t help himself. He knew he shouldn’t have given attitude as a king, but Dyon had gone there first.

“My apologies, Majesty,” Dyon said, though it didn’t sound like he actually meant it. He handed the reins of his horse to one of his men, then headed over to Sol. “I see you arrived first.” He looked through the large double doors of the fort that were open to let in some air. The end of spring was hot in Nessar, even this far north. “I suppose you’ve made the fort livable, for the time being?”

“Of course,” Sol said. “Let us talk inside.”

He was glad that Dyon and his guards walked beside him rather than behind him when entering the keep. He didn’t trust his back and wings to a human, especially one he’d just met.

They sat together in one of the main dining rooms. It still smelled of dust, but looked much brighter with the cleaning and the windows open. Dyon appeared to already be sweating from the heat, probably not used to it, as Aborsken’s territories extended far to the north.

Servants poured them drinks, but from different pitchers. Dyon raised his eyebrows at this, but didn’t ask why, which Sol was grateful for. He didn’t need Dyon to know his past with alcohol and that he only drank grape juice in favor of wine these days.

“So…” Dyon tapped his fingers on the table, reaching for his goblet. “You propose a treaty.”

“I do.”

“And what would be the benefits of said treaty?” Dyon asked. He took a sip of wine, eyeing Sol over the goblet.

And so Sol went into his speech, having rehearsed it many times. He told Dyon of the resources Nessar could provide, that they could help each other in battle if the need ever arose.

“And where is your daughter?” Dyon asked, seemingly ignoring everything Sol had said. He was probably most interested in the marriage proposal that had come up in their letters. “I don’t see her presence here.”

“She is attending to my duties back in Feycrest,” Sol responded. “I see you didn’t bring your son either.”

“No,” Dyon said, placing his goblet down a little too hard. He stroked his beard. “You think a marriage would unite our peoples?”

“I do.”

“And what if a human and Nessari cannot conceive?”

Sol hated thinking about it, but he had thought of it. He’d done research with the help of the royal librarians, and had found old records about unifications between Nessari and human.

“My research has shown me that it is possible,” Sol said, trying not to grit his teeth.

“How old is your research?” Dyon asked. “Humans and Nessari have been at odds for a very long time.”

Sol didn’t like looking like he didn’t have anything good to propose, but he needed to be honest.

“A thousand years old, give or take a few decades,” Sol explained. He hadn’t been born then, and the records were old, even for Nessari.

Dyon frowned, clearly thinking.

“If your son already has a prior engagement, I understand, but—”

“He does not.” Dyon shook his head. “Girad has never really been that interested in women.”

“Oh, well, if he isn’t, then—”

“He will marry Anaria,” Dyon interrupted again.

Sol didn’t like that. This man was haughty and clearly thought himself above him, though they both held the same station. Perhaps it was a farce. He knew that Nessari had magic and longer lifetimes. That was part of what had caused unrest between the two races. Humans had no magic for themselves and distrusted Nessari greatly for their use of it.

Dyon sighed when Sol didn’t say anything. “I suppose now it is time to try to draw up a treaty.”

Sol nodded, unclenching his jaw. A treaty would be good, despite his distaste for the man. “I suppose it is.”

#Clipped Wings #fantasy #original writing #original fiction #writing #fiction #original characters #ocs #Anaria #Hali #Sylvae #Anika #Sol #Dyon

11 notes · View notes

wisheduponastar · 1 year ago

Text

Not like pipeweed after all (Gen, 4.5k)

For Day 5 of @tolkienfamilyweek. Prompt : Found Family

Pippin has run out of long-bottom leaf, and it turns out so has Merry. They try and persuade Strider to find some for them, and he does. It turns out, however, this substitute isn’t exactly what they have in mind - their pipeweed isn’t normally this strong. Luckily, they’re around friends - and Boromir is here for them.

Or~ Pippin & Merry accidentally get high, but Boromir is there for them - and has to put up with shenanigans.

Read on Ao3

Ah, so it's not explicitly found family, but tell me they're not brothers-

He had packed far too lightly for this trip, Pippin reflected as he hoisted his pack further up his shoulders. Not that it, in any way, stopped his pack from being much too heavy. Now it was just filled with food, and things for everyone - rather than just for him. What he wouldn’t give to go back to his younger self. Well, younger self was slightly rich - it had been only about three months since he left the shire, three months and a bit.

He hadn’t been counting, especially as days in Rivendell seemed to move so unusually. Sam would almost certainly know, however, if Pippin were to ask him. But the main thing was what Pippin would say to his younger self. He wouldn’t tell him not to go on the quest - for it was going fairly well so far.

Pippin broke off his thoughts for a few seconds, simply looking around. Strider, well, Aragorn, was at the front of the group and in conversation with Gandalf. Also in front of him was Merry, who was currently talking to Boromir - captain of Gondor. And heir to… the stewardship of it? Merry and Pippin had asked Boromir about it once, but he wasn’t very willing to answer - which was rather unusual, as he normally talkative when talking about his hometown. Home city. Gondor was too big to be called a town, apparently.

Turning on his heel as he walked, Pippin spun round to observe who was behind him. Immediately behind Pippin and joining him in the, if he did say so himself, rather respectable, middle were Frodo and Sam - both walking and talking rather cheerfully. Then was Gimli, and then Legolas. Both looked as if they wanted to guard the rear, but neither wanted to be walking exactly next to each other - the awkward two-step inbetween them their compromise.

Grinning slightly, Pippin turned around again, jogging a small amount to catch up to Boromir and Merry.

“Merry, you can’t just leave me!” He cried, grinning and waving slightly as he made pace with the two of them.

Breaking off from the conversation, Merry titled his head to look behind him, “Maybe you shouldn’t be so slow, eh Pip?”

“My pack’s heavier,” Pippin defended, although he was unsure of whether it was true. They had been given almost the same amount of things, so it really depended on what his fellow hobbit had packed.

“I wish my pack was heavier,” said Merry, suddenly mood-swinging to somewhat forlorn, and wistful.

Boromir looked down, slight concern in his eyes, “How so? I assure you we have enough food to last all of us this journey.”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” and with just those words most of Merry’s more cheerful attitude was back, “It’s just, I’ve smoked the last of my longbottom leaf - my pack just doesn’t feel the same without it.”

He broke off briefly from his mourning, and looked up at the sky, “I wish I’d brought more of it, or re-stocked at Rivendell.”

“I don’t think the elves are big on smoking,” observed Pippin, “But yes, if I could go back and tell younger me one thing - it would be to pack more longbottom leaf.”

“Truly?” Boromir laughed as he asked, surprised at how simple a hobbit's desire could be, but also with some good-natured envy. To have such little regrets about leaving, that the main thing you’d change was how much leaf you packed.

“See, Boromir,” Merry looked up, “You wouldn’t have any longbottom leaf, would you?”

Boromir shook his head, “No, but I am not completely sure what it is.”

“Here,” Pippin said, rummaging around the various add-ons to his bag, and finding the pot he stored his pipeweed in. Carefully, Pippi reached in and took the smallest amount he could - still enough for a smoke, but not enough for anything more. Holding it aloft, he gestured to Boromir, “This is longbottom leaf. Proper good stuff, it is.”

Boromir peered at it for a second, before recognition sparked in his eyes, “Ah. We call it sweet galenas.”

“D’you smoke it?”

“Not that I am aware,” was the honest answer, as Boromir did not engage in too much smoking or drinking, especially not of late, “It is only noted for its sweet fragrance.”

Merry looked slightly crestfallen, “So there isn’t much hope you’ll have any on you?”

“I am afraid not,” Boromir seemed to muse over the problems for a second, “Although Aragorn has a pipe, does he not? He may have some, or at least something similar.”

“You, Boromir, are a genius!” Declared Merry, a grin already on his face - eager to speed away and ask.

“Yes, a credit to all of Gondor,” tacked on Pippin who, although still having some pipeweed left, sped off with even more urgency than Merry - the two briefly leaving Boromir alone to smile after them and walk slightly faster, waiting for them to return.

“Aragorn! Aragorn!” Was the chorus that came from the two of them, causing the ranger to turn round and stare - conversation with Gandalf broken off. Merry had the decency to avert his eyes and look sheepish, however Pippin did not - until Merry nudged him worriedly.

“Ow- Merry,” he started, before cutting himself off and looking down slightly, “Ah, Gandalf. We didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

There was good intention in Pippin’s words, before his eyes suddenly lit up with a new idea, “Say - Gandalf, you don’t have any pipeweed, do you? See me and Merry have almost finished-”

“Merry, don’t nudge me that hard!”

“Pip. We’re trying to be polite, charming,” Merry looked sideways, then back at Pippin again, “We’re trying to charm Gandalf and Strider into giving up their pipeweed, not whatever you’re doing!”

“Ah - so that it was you are after,” there was no accusation in Aragorn’s voice, just lightheartedness, “Well, I am sorry my friends - but I have no more left at the moment. I dropped the last of my Southlinch when we were ambushed by crebain.”

“Southlinch?” Questioned Merry curiously.

“A type of pipeweed, grown in Bree,” supplied Aragorn, a warmer smile, “Have the two of you none left?”

“I have a little…” confessed Pippin, “But I want to save it for a special occasion, one of our great victories. Or maybe a horrific tragedy of some kind.”

“Horrific tragedy?” Echoed Gandalf disapprovingly, “Do not think so darkly, Peregrin Took!”

While the small scolding took place, in which Pippin did have the decency to look immediately down this time, Aragorn seemed to be thinking and observing the situation around him. There were a few moments of silence as they walked, Aragorn staring at the plant life before eventually he spoke, “You know, Master Brandybuck, I may be able to find something similar to pipeweed. If you are interested?”

“Of course!” Was the immediate answer from both hobbits, at the same time. Another chuckle came from Aragorn, and he nodded, “We are on the lookout for a plant called wild dagga, or leonurus. It can be from your to my height, and has a dark green stem with bright orange flower-like parts to it. Should you see something like that, alert me.”

Nodding, and promising reassurances, the hobbits smiled and chattered among themselves before retreating quietly back to Boromir.

“Good news my friend, I assume?” Boromir questioned as they went back, taking note of their large grins.

“Oh yes!” Answered Merry, “I’ve found a way to get us some more pipeweed. Or something close to it, at least. We’re looking out for a plant, it can be from my to your height, and it’s orange.”

“Anything else?” Boromir asked with sincerity, quickly scanning the surroundings to see if a plant like that would immediately appear.

“I don’t think so,” Merry trailed off for a second, looking to his friend, “That was it, wasn’t it Pippin?”

“I’m fairly certain,” was the confident response, “Shouldn’t be too hard, there aren’t that many orange flowers near here, are there?”

“I haven’t seen any,” supplied Boromir, the closest any of them could get to confirmation. Together, the three continued to talk for a bit about various herbs, and then their surroundings - which inevitably led to talk of the shire, which in turn prompted talk of Gondor. Eventually, Pippin looked up and asked, “Boromir, do you smoke often?”

“Not often, no,” Boromir answered, “It is harder to get than most ales, if I should have the opportunity to smoke or drink.”

“I suppose being a lord-”

“Steward,” Boromir corrected quickly, then looked apologetic, “I am sorry, please go on Pippin.”

“No problems,” was the cheerful answer, “But I suppose being a steward you wouldn’t drink much, would you?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Boromir decided to be frank, “I probably drank as much as the next person in my guard, probably slightly less. We had responsibility, so we almost certainly drank less than hobbits.”

Merry and Pippin exchanged annoyed glances, then Merry spoke up, “We didn’t drink that much. Besides, I didn’t know you could get ale in a pint before I left the shire.”

“Well, if you take into account your body size compared to mine,” began Boromir, before stopping that train of thought and instead contributing, “Well, I have certainly smoked less.”

“Only because you didn’t have as good leaf,” Pippin responded, in a somewhat sympathetic way. “Don’t worry, we’ll teach you the art of the pipe, won’t we Merry?”

“Oh yes,” there was pride in Merry’s voice, “D’you know, us hobbits were the first to put pipeweed in pipes?”

“Truly?” Asked Boromir, “You hobbits never cease to surprise, I’ll give you that much.”

“Thank you!” Merry said, making eye-contact with Boromir - and genuinely smiling. The two hobbits exchanged grins under the man’s gaze, a large grin spreading almost ear to ear - both of their faces mimicking each other.

Then they fell back into the easy rhythm of talking about whatever caught their fancy. When Pippin started the conversation, it was to complain about the long roads - which led onto discussions of horses and various modes of transportation (for a few minutes there was heated debate between Merry and Pippin as to whether Boromir would be able to ride a Shire pony or not). Eventually Merry had butted in, instead beginning a talk about the mayor of Shire, and then its various laws - and then the Gondor legal system (which, to be fair, was mainly the hobbits listing progressively more obscure actions before asking if they were legal).

When it was Boromir’s turn to start the conversation, it would also usually be about the Shire - or about hobbit life in general. He was more curious about their general lives, and the peace of the Shire, just how different it was to Gondor. At one their conversation started on where Boromir should stay, if he ever visited the Shire. Well, he said ‘if’, Merry and Pippin said ‘when’. It was during their conversation that the plant was spotted.

“Lobelia’s got a rather large ceiling, hasn’t she Merry,” observed Pippin, “D’you think she’d let Boromir stay at hers?”

“Pippin, are you suggesting we inflict Lobelia on Boromir?” Was the retort, “We want him to like the Shire, not- oh wait, I think I see the plant!”

Both of his companions' heads turned to see where his gaze was following. About ten or so metres away was a patch of the plant. Wild dagga, Pippin was pretty sure. This variety was taller than him, but shorter than Boromir - coming away at about the five foot mark. Overly large for a plant, Pippin decided, especially if it wasn’t even a tree.

“D’you think it’s the right thing, Boromir?” Asked Pippin, looking up briefly as he spoke before returning to stare at the plant.

“Herblore is not my expertise,” was the start of the answer, but Boromir smiled, “However it does look like what you described. I doubt there would be any harm in asking if they are the correct plants.”

“They look like the dagga to me,” contributed Merry, “Wait here - I’ll ask Aragorn!”

With that, Merry sped up again - a short and sudden burst of speed, before it quickly descended into a jog - damn this backpack. Still trying to catch up, the ranger and the wizard had walked awfully far ahead, Merry instead called out, “Wait! We think we’ve found the wild…” his mind briefly drew a blank as to what it was called, “The plant you were talking about!”

This seemed to catch Aragorn’s attention, for he nodded briefly to Gandalf and then began to walk back towards the hobbits, “So, my friends, you say you’ve found some?”

“Yes, over there!” Merry pointed out the blooming orange stalks, smiling, “That is the plant you wanted, right?”

“It is, that is very well observed master hobbit.” With thanks, and a promise to share it out equally among all who wanted it, Aragorn traversed off-the-path a little, going up to the plants and taking off the leaves and flowers.

“Will you try some Boromir?” Questioned Pippin, looking up at the man as they began walking.

Boromir seemed to consider it a second, “I am not sure. You should try some first, I will trust your judgement.”

“Really?” Asked Merry, before blushing slightly and looking at the path in front, “I mean, of course. We are experts on pipeweed, aren’t we Pip?”

“Aye Merry, that we are, that we are,” Pippin nodded on this point, in almost an imitation of Gandalf. Slightly less wise, but the spirit of all-knowing was there. Enough to make Boromir smile and laugh to himself, and make Merry laugh outright - immediately teasing his companion.

The lighter mood continued throughout the day with no further interruptions, except Boromir managing to spot another two patches of wild dagga. It was nice for Boromir to see the flower before them, because he could look down as he announced it. See right when their excitable grins appeared on their faces, and watch as they exchanged a glance then looked up at him, thanking him. Then run off to pester Aragorn about more of the stuff being found.

Eventually, they could see Aragorn and Frodo (for the marching order was prone to change throughout the day) stopping up ahead of them. Frodo setting his pack on the floor, and sitting down with some relief. Aragorn busy taking sticks from the surroundings and striking his tinderbox. Pippin didn’t even try to disguise the large smile that came upon his face, “Are we stopping for the night?”

“Yes, we are almost at Caradhras, I want us to be rested for it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Pippin said, looking at Merry, “Where d’you want to set up camp, Merry?”

“Probably near the fire,” Merry responded, briefly looking to Boromir for approval, which the man gave by nodding. He was, in some ways, touched that the hobbits thought highly enough of him to ask him questions. Even if it was only where to set up their bedrolls.

Looking around, Boromir shed the pack he was carrying and set it down beside his feet, also dropping the shield for the time being. His sword he kept on him at all times. Not just because he did not trust the wilderness of Middle Earth, but also because he didn’t trust Merry and Pippin. He’d let them use training swords, and then when he’d left his sword for a second to fetch a sharpening stone - he’d come back to find Merry holding it. That had given him much more of a fright than he was ever prepared to admit.

“So, Aragorn, how exactly is it you use this plant then?” Merry eventually spoke up, for it was Aragorn who still had all the plants. “I assume you still smoke it, like you do pipeweed?”

“Yes, I am just drying it out now,” Aragorn nodded to the fire, which had a number of smaller twigs over it - leaves and flowers skewered to them, and drying out. “It will not be a very sophisticated process, but we rangers have used it often enough.”

“The…” Merry struggled to find the word for a second, “The rangers smoke this often?” “When you are in the wilderness for months at a time, yes. Although sometimes pipeweed will grow in the wild, and we’ll use that instead.”

“Pipeweed grows in the wild?” Merry said indignantly, “We could’ve kept an eye out for that.”

“I have only ever seen it grow in the wilds near Gondor,” explained Aragorn, inclining his head slightly towards Boromir, “And even then, only near the city.”

“I still can’t believe you’d never thought to smoke it,” said Pippin, now also looking at Boromir.

“I imagine some would have,” admitted Boromir, “But the discovery of some new novelty to smoke was not exactly news one would share with your captain.”

“Why not?” Asked Pippin, rather sincerely.

Boromir simply shook his head and laughed a little, “Let me say… our worlds work very differently Pippin.”

“Suit yourself,” Pippin briefly smiled again, before turning to Aragorn again, “So, how long until we can use it?”

“About ten minutes or so. It still needs to dry out.”

“What needs to dry out?” Legolas had finally arrived, and was somewhat putting down his belongings, while simultaneously looking like he could run off now and be fine for the next couple of days. Actually, Boromir reflected, he probably could. Elves needed less sustenance, and Legolas’s bow and quiver were still on his back, so he could’ve made it. Boromir was fairly certain, however, that the elf would not suddenly abandon them.

“The wild dagga,” Merry answered, looking to Aragorn briefly for confirmation, “Me and Pippin have run out of longbottom leaf, so we’re going to try and smoke that instead.”

The elf wrinkled his nose slightly at that, “I have never understood smoking, surely it cannot taste nice?”

“It’s not really the taste,” Pippin tried to explain, “It’s the experience, the feeling. And it isn’t that bad!”

“Maybe not for hobbits,” conceded Legolas, “But for elves, the smell is most unpleasant.”

“Oh. Does us doing,” Merry gestured vaguely, pipe now in his hands, “It… does it bother you?”

“Not very, it is much more bearable in open air, besides,” Legolas glanced at Gandalf, “I have grown more used to it. A certain… visitor is rather fond of pipeweed.”

All of the hobbits laughed at that, with Merry observing almost out-loud, “And to think hobbits have been doing something longer than wizards. Although I daresay you’ll be better at it than us by now.”

There was a second as Gandalf deliberately avoided eye-contact, in a somewhat modest way, before breaking out in a smile and acknowledging it - sending a smoke ring that soon morphed into the shape of a star shooting around them.

“Well, we can do it best without using magic, ay Merry?” Said Pippin, nudging Merry conspicuously with a grin. “Aragorn, is the… whatever you called it ready?”

“Patience, Master Took,” was Aragorn’s immediate response, but he lent over the fire and then smiled, “But as luck would have it - they are. Do you wish to smoke them?”

“Do I wish to smoke them?” Echoed Merry, somewhat sarcastic - somewhat indignant. “Anything we need to know before we start?”

“It has always behaved like normal pipeweed for me,” answered Aragorn, “So I would say no.”

With the expertise of a knowledgeable smoker, Merry leaned over slightly to the now dried leaves - quickly getting out his pipe as well and busying himself by lighting it (and trying to take what he presumed to be the better leaf from Pippin).

“So, Pippin, Merry, is it good?” Asked Boromir after they’d let out a few smoke rings, still holding true to his thought that he would try some - if they deemed it appropriate.

Turning his whole head, even though Boromir was sitting almost directly next to him, Pippin looked up to the taller man, “Hmmm… I don’t know Merry, but I’d say so?”

There was a very thoughtful frown on Merry’s face, that suddenly split into a large grin, “Yes Pip. Without a doubt. Here Boromir, try mine.”

Merry smiled again, then held out the pipe to someone who was decidedly not Boromir - but instead Legolas. There was a second as the elf sat there, waiting for the hobbit to correct his mistake, before Legolas politely coughed, eyes gazing instead to where Boromir was sitting.

“Boromir!” Merry exclaimed suddenly, almost throwing down the pipe and (finally) held it in the direction of the man he intended, “You looked so pretty as a blond…”

There was now a forlorn tone in Merry’s voice, and his eyes became ever so slightly glassy - although Boromir was fairly certain this wasn’t because of Boromir not, in fact, being blond.

“I… I have never been blond Merry,” he gently corrected, frowning at the hobbit’s state of mind.

“No, you were just then!” It was remarkable how determined Merry could be, “When you were pretending to be Legolas. You’re a beautiful blond Boromir.”

Pippin gave a non-committal, although positive hum, nodding along to all of Merry’s words sagely, an image that was slightly ruined by the fact he was staring simply at the sky. Pippin then looked down slightly, at Boromir again, and opened his mouth - to say nothing for a few seconds, before hazily mumbling “D’you agree?”

“Agree? With what?” There was a gentleness in Boromir’s voice, as well as poorly disguised concern, “Tell me again.”

“So,” Pippin began, “It’s essentially just…”

There was a second as he trailed off again, instead just staring at the ground, “That… probably sums it up. I’m sorry, is that still confusing?”

“No, not at all,” Boromir was probably over-enunciating his words now, unsure if the hobbits could register them, “You should probably put down the pipes now, and go to sleep.”

“How’re we suppose to go to Mordor if we sleep?” Questioned Merry, although he almost rolled off the log - now lying on the floor, “Didn’t think of that - did you Boromir?”

Pippin snickered slightly, “Merry, you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor - very bad for your spine.”

“Is it really?” Merry asked genuinely, looking up for someone again, “An… adult, who isn’t me, is this true?”

“You do need to sleep on a bedroll, Merry,” Boromir explained, guiding the hobbit up and getting his pack out for him (stubbornly ignoring the fact Merry was now simply lying on his feet). “Here, lie on this.”

“You’re so nice Boromir,” Merry said, sitting down onto the bedroll,

“Merry look. We’re not sleeping on the ground now, are we?”

“I’m not Merry. You’re Merry.”

“No, I’m Meriadoc. I don’t do nicknames Pip.”

“You just did.”

“No, your name’s just Pip. We didn’t tell you, thought it’d make you sad.”

“That’s not true!” Pippin exclaimed, with almost genuine (although certainly high-infused) uncertainty.

“Yes it is, isn’t it…” Merry looked around, eyes falling on Boromir again, “It’s true isn't it Boromir. You’ll know.” He turned to Pippin again, “Boromir’s very knowledgeable about your name.”

Shaking his head, Boromir decided to try and ignore the conversation, instead turning, with a growing mixture of concern and anger, to Aragorn, “Aragorn, what did you give them?”

“Wild dagga - my friend,” was the honest response, not helped by the fact it sounded like the ranger was trying not to laugh, “I had no idea it would affect the hobbits like this - I thought they would react to it like pipeweed!”

“And yet they are,” Boromir looked again at the hobbits, who had sat up and were talking in very hushed voices, “Frodo, this is not normal, is it?”

“No,” Frodo answered, still looking at Pippin, “Although they’ve behaved like this before - but usually after having a lot more pipeweed - or drinking more than they should.”

“It will probably be over by morning, Boromir sir,” spoke up Sam, looking in concern at the two younger hobbits. “I can watch over them, maybe make them something.”

“I will watch over them Sam, do not worry,” something in Boromir made him reluctant to go to sleep, especially when Merry and Pippin were vulnerable, but he smiled tightly, “Although they would probably benefit from something to eat.”

“Of course” for a while there was busying around the camp as people dug through their packs, contributing various things to make a stew out of. Boromir would have helped more, but he did have his work cut out for him. While being affected - the hobbits seemed to have developed a fascination with fire, along with a startling lack of self-preservation.

Boromir would have possibly cut more firewood, or stoked it when it was down - but trying to hold Pippin down while still being gentle (so he could not pick up one of the flaming logs) was a task that required more attention, and was probably more important.

“Merry, Pippin, let us sit over there,” Boromir glanced left into the clearing, “It will be better for your…”

“Eyes?” Suggested Merry, still smiling slightly and getting up, “C’mon Pip. We’re not going to Mordor anymore, we’re going over there.”

“My name isn’t Pip. It’s Peregrin,” Pippin protested, although both of them followed Boromir over. There was at least one issue solved - the hobbits could no longer launch themselves directly in the fire.

“Do you have a second name, Boromir?” For some reason, Merry had phrased it as more of a statement than a question, but he answered anyway.

“Of course I do-”

“What is it?”

“I think you look like a… Varno,” decided Pippin, after several long seconds of looking into Boromir’s eyes.

“Oh yes - I can see that!” Chimed in Merry, “That is your name, isn’t it Boromir?”

“No, it is not,” said Boromir, with all the patience that he could muster at the time.

“Well it should be!” The statement was said with such clarity, that for a second Boromir seriously considered its merits - before shaking his head and sighing.

“Boromir, your food,” it was Aragorn - standing next to him with three wooden bowls of stew, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the hobbits. “Will you be eating with us?”

“I am afraid they will still try to launch themselves into the fire,” Boromir admitted, casting a glance backwards. The two of them had begun laughing now, a high and carefree one - one that seemed infectious. “We will eat over here.”

“You are sure, my friend?”

“Yes it will be…” There was another glance backwards, “I am sure it will be fine.”

“We’re very responsible Strider, sir” added Pippin, who frowned as Merry suddenly began to laugh.

“Merry - I am.”

“No you’re not - neither of us are!”

“Oh,” the thought struck Pippin, and suddenly he laughed a little as well, “No - we aren’t.”

The rest of the night was just as chaotic - but in most ways Boromir did not mind. There was something nice about the two hobbits like these - even if it was just because of how much they smiled, or how much more affectionate they were. And if Pippin had insisted on a story to go to sleep, well that was his business - and Boromir was sure Pippin wouldn’t remember Boromir telling him one anyway.

#pippin took #meriadoc brandybuck #boromir #lotr #lotr fanfic #tolkiengenweek

6 notes · View notes

petite-ursus · 2 years ago

Text

Some updates on the pmdd birth control stuff...

I bled for almost a solid month, over April, and had a lot of nausea. That has mostly leveled out.

I still experience mood swings, but to a much lesser degree. I think. It is very weird/disorienting to not have a regular bleed to let me know where I am in my “cycle.” Just something I didn’t anticipate for tracking my moods and if they’re “normal.” There’s definitely something worse about not knowing when or if these feelings are going to end. Like. Knowing the bleeding was going to stop the suicidal ideation was frustrating because fuck this body that feels this way every luteal phase. But at least that was a clear schedule. A clear end. When I could think of it. Now.... I don’t know.

Obviously there are habits and mentalities I’ve built over the years, surrounding my period related mood swings (if that’s what these are. aaaaaaah.) Things I have to unlearn and work on healthier responses now that I’m (allegedly) not being emotionally waterboarded every month... Like, I’m feeling very sad/stressed/a little sui-slide-al this week. But is that from technically being in my luteal phase or is this an environment issue? Because it really could be. Never discount the advice “Am I crazy, or am I surrounded by ass holes.”

I’m not sure. Is this helping or am I just hoping really hard that it is, and that’s been carrying me through the last two months and now all of those issues are still actually present and not about the environment. That would mean it isn’t pmdd at all? ... I don’t know.

And it’s never ever just one thing. Like, I absolutely have anxiety, to the extent that my therapist once said (in congratulatory way) that I don’t have depression, I’m just so anxious it makes me depressed. I also was diagnosed with adhd when I was a teen, but we didn’t really do anything about it. That has its own symptoms. Pile pmdd on top of that (and the gyno truly believes it is pmdd) and if the birth control is only supposed to reduce those symptoms, not make them go away entirely... yeah, I’d still be symptomatic. There’s also some suspicion that I may also be on the spectrum, which I don’t post about a lot because *shrug* but if that’s the case, having meltdowns from being overstimulated (which anxiety, adhd, and pmdd all do as well) would mean I would still feel... like... this... even with the birth control.

And I’m so tired. I’m so tired. I’m so tired. I’m so tired of getting no empathy because I’m so good at handling everything until I’m not. I’m so tired of living in this body that is full of trauma because I was young, kind, and pretty and folks took took took without any regard for the fact that I was a person. And they still do. And that’s its own environmental thing, not something inside of me. And there’s nothing I can do about it. I hate this body. I hate living in it. I miss being consistent at the box so at least it was strong. Now I can’t get back into the habit and it just makes me feel worse.There are so many ways that I am a better person than when I was a young adult. Calmer, steadier... but what does that matter when my past means I’m also eternally overwhelmed and I just. I want to be able to stop. And there’s no stop. No one is coming. What does it matter that I’ve grown if the thing that created that growth burned my roots and made me shoot up too fast and now I’m stilted, straining towards the sun on a stalk that is too thin? What does any of it matter if every year I just slip further away. (Sorry, this is the sui-slide-al thought process that loops, it slipped its way into here.)

My boobs got bigger, and I’ve lost some water weight. So there’s that. I guess. Hormonal acne seems like it’s the same.

#pmdd #personal #yaz

3 notes · View notes

kdipshit · 2 years ago

Text

The Borderline Between Love And War ;

The intensity, in which I feel, isn’t mine really to ever begin with. Picture moving smoke, now picture that in a more dense form, its just energy, which is exactly what every thing else is, therefore my feelings are just that, energy that moves and flows like a wind. I feel every colour in full, I feel like my skin turns itself inside out what I’m anxious, I feel raw, I don’t feel scared… and I don’t mean I’m not trying to feel scared, I just feel scared without feeling scared. I feel scared without the thought attachment. I just feel the energy that my body was always meant to withstand. “Scared” actually feels rather cooling, when I don’t let my head get to it.

Its like a game of tug of war, between love and war.

I don’t want to start this off sad, because I am not sad, nor do I feel bad for having said illness, nor should I be made to feel that way. :) I’m a very happy chap, in fact, I’ve never been more free. Or maybe its naivety.

Surrendering to the feeling of categorising my mind, it is one. How? Hei ana. Find something that doesn’t change SO quickly, my eating changes, my thoughts change, my hobbies change, my feelings change, I’m not sure I have much of a belief system, the strength of said belief system wouldn’t be the greatest either… I find it hard for myself to sometimes start writing because its nothing like anything I have ever read, but I’ve come to the realisation that I actually don’t fucking read anything, I skim, as its hard for my eyes to keep up with the pace of my reading, looking like stars on the page lol. Sometimes, only if I put my attention on it, does it ever get worse. If this attention thing is real, why not try using it to manifest, by putting your attention on the traits, skills, mindsets and knowledge that I am lacking in order to achieve such rewards. Motivation is something I struggle with, aswell, I’m not sure if it has anything to do with my mood swings yet, mood change feels like a transition on its own, go from feeling happy to sad with no real intermission. But also motivated to zero motivation. It doesn’t just effect my feelings, it effects my physical body and it effects ‘Akayla’, it effects the character I am, it effects the ego and causes it to malfunction, it effects the safety systems I have in place, mentally, spiritually, physically and all those in between. Hei ana.

Im angry, because I’m fucking hungry and I was just about to cook, I don’t want to be in this house, ill tell you what I feel like, I feel like its a power trip and my mother is a hypocrite, says one things, does the other, treats people exactly how she doesn’t want to be treated. My mother is that kind of person. She’s not a nice girl or a kind person, thats not how you would explain my mother. She’s cut throat, possessive, mean and confusing. Those are whatever you think they are, it only matters what kind of thought attachment you have behind it, which has 100% got to do with only you. perception itself isn’t real, your thoughts and attachments and feelings make it real, your attention makes it real.

anyways. My body was make to withstand these energies, and anything that comes my way, I am capable, the more capable I am, the better the opportunity for the energy you desire, it’s sorta like a game in a way. The better you do the better you get but like one day and one step at a time, be happy in all of those moments, be calm (no fear), be present, that’s how I do better, for the world continues to spin, regardless of how anybody feels, it doesn’t effect the physical, but the mental is just as big.

I just can’t fkn get over it aye, it really fkn pisses me off when I give it attention lmao. Do better. maybe dealing with my anger that is already here will diminish the anger in the future…

Can I thank my strong feelings for my strong connection to my Māori side ?

The more I think about how bad it is, the worse it gets, I might die to keep my peace. I can put a story, a time or a person on a song, and at peak level, it hurts. There is no valid excuse to not do better, that’s just the ego trying stay alive

Trying to run away from boredom has only ever given me anxiety, something wants to be felt. The present scares me in a way I’m scared of jumping off the cliff. Writing requires a lot of thinking, but the thoughts that I have chosen given the energy in which surrounds me. Its hard for me to write, but you could never tell.

My writing even, is painful to do sometimes, most of these times have ben hard, and its not because I want to see my life in a negative, or want to have a negative time here, Its how I feel, and its okay, you must feel it, and move along life with them, instead of holding on.

#bpd #adult adhd #new blog #blogging #mental instability #mental health

2 notes · View notes

adventures-of-the-creeping-bam · 1 year ago

Text

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM, BOOK THREE: WARMER - CHAPTER 25

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Book 3 Chapter 1 is here …

MPORTANT: Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: DRAMRATH

The smell down here’s making me uncomfortable. It shouldn’t, the work we do I’ve routinely been in much more unpleasant places than this, but … I’m not sure, perhaps it’s just all the different elements mixed together that just works my nerves so much. It’s not just rot and mildew and damp, you can find that in most cellars. There’s something else, something I suspect comes from the dozens, perhaps hundreds of other bodies that can be found crammed in the unpleasantly poky rooms surrounding us. Not just the stink of stale sweat, urine and faeces. Something more acrid, and more potent, something that the predator locked away deep in my ancestral blood stirs some to pick up on. It’s fear.

It's certainly not doing my mood any favours. When we came back I was already worked up and edgy, and what I discovered when we arrived made it significantly worse. The fact I haven’t already tried to rip Vandryss’ throat out with my talons is a very hollow testament to my patience.

I can’t even say that we went into that fight without fair warning, she told us plenty about the people we’d be facing, their capabilities, the numbers we’d be facing, the various assets they had on their side. The fact that they had a bloody golem with them gave me particular pause, and certainly didn’t go down any better with the others as we were prepping our first attempt, but we didn’t respond much better to the fact that they had two Silver Order mages with them too. That probably made me more uncomfortable than anything else she told us.

I’ve only actually found myself on the opposing side to an Order wizard once in my career, and that was an ugly experience. He was the single most accomplished spellcaster I have ever encountered in my life before, good enough to make Riveck look like a charlatan village market conman. He died bloody hard, I nearly didn’t survive the fight, and two others in my company at the time weren’t as lucky. Worse, though, was having to cover it up after. Killing a Silver Order mage … that’s a whole other level of dangerous in its own right, no self-respecting merc needs that amount of trouble in their life. I still find myself looking over my shoulder on occasion after that kill.

So when we found ourselves facing off against another one near the start of this latest fight, part of me wanted to just back off and call it a loss. Instead Ix got in behind them and brained them before they knew he was there, and then I just reacted. In truth I’m amazed he actually listened to me when I shouted at him to stop as he was bending down to just cut the wizard’s throat while they were down, but he did. Then Vandryss got a look at the young wizard’s face and her expression gave me chills.

She took hold of the unconscious body and then grabbed Tavarrat, telling her to port them both back to their base on the spot. The hunger in her voice as she said it almost made me sick, but after she looked up and said to me: “You have a job to do, I suggest you do it while you have a decent chance.” they were both gone before I could respond. I felt worse about that than anything else that happened out there on the Heath.

So when we got back the first thing I did was track that creepy bitch down with the intention of hashing it out with her. A lot happened tonight we didn’t sign up for, but every one of us becoming a potential target for reprisal from the Order is a step too far for me.

Except that she’s already put whatever her plan is into action. When we got back she was already torturing the poor kid, at least what I could hear, going from the sounds coming from the relevant cell. Jammund filled us in on more of the details that Vandryss had decided to omit prior to now, since given this latest development he thought it more relevant to us. Such as the fact that they’ve already had one particularly famous Silver Order wizard in their custody for a few weeks, so the damage was already irreparable.

Darion bloody Foxtail. Fuck … even Kuth had heard of him. Turns out the young wizard we just abducted is his child, just a few years out of the Academy in Bavat and apparently a genuine chip off the old block. As Jammund puts it, we were: “Incredibly lucky to take ‘em down so easy.” Or, the way I see it, Ixen sucker-punched the poor kid and dropped us in it, and Vandryss just made it infinitely worse.

Kuth’s as pissed about this as I am, he worked with the Order a couple of times when he was first coming up and he says a lot of them are really good people. Suret’s definitely concerned about it too – you’d be hard pressed to tell if you hadn’t learned to read her deeply hidden subtleties over the years, but she’s definitely quieter than usual, and I can see the worry in her eyes. She can handle going head-to-head with a fucking golem without breaking a sweat, but this is definitely working her nerves.

Riveck’s mostly just drunk, but then as soon as we were all back he begged a bottle and then he tore the stopper out with his teeth and downed half the wine in one long pull. It’s strong stuff, too, but that didn’t stop him, and it takes a lot to put him to sleep these days, I’ve found. Then it was just a case of getting Trouble together enough again to fix him.

Trouble, yeah … gods, she’s taken a hit, emotionally. It’s not the first time I’ve seen her like this, she’s always been a little too good for this line of work, if I’m honest, but clearly something happened while we were all separated that’s got her all kinds of rattled now. When Riv ported back last with her she just sat there for the first few minutes, staring down at the length of her impressively long sword’s naked blade, now painted with blood, I saw. A whole lot of it, in fact – the length of the blade is now the colour of dark rust since it’s largely dried. She wouldn’t say a word, wouldn’t look away from the blade, she just sat there, shaking, her eyes wide and about the most haunted I’ve ever seen them.

At first I just tried to talk her out of this trance, eventually full-on shouting in her face, snapping my clawed fingers right under her nose, but that didn’t do anything. Eventually I got frustrated enough and started to shake her, but that didn’t have any better effect that the shouting. So I slapped her. Genuinely wound back a good, hard hit, and smacked the back of my hand across her face hard enough to make her head rock back. That did it. She cried out and hissed in shock and gave me a hot, wide-eyed glare, and then she was back with us again. So I asked her, very politely, if she could perhaps have a try at healing Riveck’s arm, if it wasn’t too much trouble, and she started blushing before she apologised and set to work.

Of course, a side effect of that was that her healing sobered him back up some while she was at it, which I would’ve found hilariously funny any other time. Instead I just got him another bottle while he finished off the one he’d already started, and went to confront Vandryss. Only to run into Jammund instead.

Now I’m back with the others, while he leans back against the wall of this cluttered back room that’s been set aside for the business or downtime of whoever’s working down here at any one time. There are a few wooden chairs set around the place, a table in the corner with a variety of bottles and boxes of food and drink on it, and a wood-fired stove it with a simple brass kettle hung beside it on a stand. I wouldn’t call it cosy, but I suppose it’ll do for our needs, and it’s working out well enough at least as a makeshift infirmary for Trouble while she tends to Riv’s wounds. At least as much as she’s capable of now she’s as aware of the troubling twist as the rest of us …

Jammund's none too happy about this business, that much is clear, but I get the impression it’s not weighing half so badly on him as it is the rest of us. Even Tavarrat seems more shaken by it, standing by the door with her arms folded tight across her chest and her chin dipped right down while her shoulders are almost drawn right up to her ears. The look on her face is almost as dark as Kuth’s, I’ve noticed.

Perhaps she’s as perturbed about having two members of the illustrious institution she was once a member of being tortured in the same place she’s holed up in. Or perhaps it’s the grievous bitch who’s doing the torturing. Either way it’s gnawing at her, that much is clear.

I can’t stop pacing, the situation’s just making me restless. I know I should settle down in one of the chairs and lay my gear out in front of me, start my usual after-battle maintenance on my sword, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Normally it does wonders for calming me down, but right now …

“How you feelin’?” Kuth gives me a bit of a start now as he steps up to my side as I draw close to him, essentially intercepting me before I can pass him by. My hands go up almost on their own, mostly just to ward him off, but I still feel my fighter’s reflexes start to spark. He just takes hold of my wrists with surprising gentleness and holds me in place, not forcing me to stay but urging all the same. I don’t throw him off, either – I’m definitely stronger than him but I just let him take the lead.

“I’m …” I let a heavy sigh go, trying not to grit my teeth and failing. “I don’t like this. Maybe you were right before. We should’ve run while we had the chance.”

“No, you were right. We were already stuck.” He gives my wrists the gentlest squeeze, taking a breath. “I wanna know how you’re feeling. Right now. If you’re all right. If I gotta be worried.”

That has me frowning. “I’m … Kuth, I’m not about to break. We’ve been through worse than this before and I’ve held up.”

“No, we been in scary, messy shit before, and some of it’s been cuz we got fucked over, but we were just fighting our way out of it. This is … c’mon, Dram. Y’know what I mean. The second you met that creepy bitch you been on edge, an’ I ain’t seen you relax since. I’m starting to worry ‘bout you.” He leans closer, and I have to bend a little so he can rest his forehead against mine. “Don’t forget you got folk you can rely on in this.”

“Yes, I know. Of course I do …” I let out another sigh, stepping back a little so I can take a look around at the others, at least the ones that are here with us now. “I’m the one who’s supposed to worry, Kuth. I’m supposed to be in charge, so this was my call. Meaning that the fallout’s on me too.”

He follows my gaze now, to where Trouble’s finally taking her hands away from Riveck’s arm as he lets his head settle back against the wall he’s slumped against. He’s cradling the bottle in his good arm, and it already looks like it’s mostly just dregs left in it. He’s looks a good deal more sanguine now that when we first arrived, so he’s likely got a very good buzz on now, even after Trouble’s worked her god magic.

“That was definitely not your fault.” He gives another insistent little squeeze. “They’re clearly just better than we expected.”

Finally slipping my arms free, I reach up and brush my hair from my face, unable to keep the troubled frown from my face as I turn back. “No, not really. This time the intelligence was entirely on the money, they’re definitely everything we were told they are. Particularly their leader …” I let out another sigh, setting my jaw again. “Bloody hell, she’s a demon with a sword. I’m not convinced I could actually beat her if we cross swords again. Certainly not with that sword.”

“So she really is –”

“Oh yes, she’s definitely Edhril Shoon’s daughter.” I let a little chuckle go, but there’s no mirth to it, it’s mostly just bitter. “Any other time I’d be thrilled by the idea of meeting her. But I actually have to come up with a way to kill her.”

Kuth doesn’t reply to that, not for a long beat, watching me very carefully now. He’s quite simple in some ways, a creature of passion and instinct over real thoughtfulness much of the time, but he’s definitely not stupid, he can be quite sharp when he manages to take the time to think about things. “You’re starting to agree with Trouble, ain’t you? You think we might be on the wrong side o’ this fight.”

My frown deepens at that. “Perhaps. But even if I do, there’s nothing I can do about it now, is there?”

His brows shoot up as he gives me a look. “There ain’t?”

I try not to hiss at him for that question, knowing how loaded it is. I’m not prepared to get into that argument, not right now. Then I see Trouble finally getting to her feet again and just reach out, resting a hand on his shoulder now. “Just … might be wise to keep that kind of thinking to ourselves for now, don’t you think?”

He frowns, and for a moment I think he might argue, but finally he just closes his mouth again. He still gives me a very complex look, though. Something tells me we’re not done with this conversation.

Simply giving his shoulder a good squeeze, I step away, then pause, looking him over for another, electric moment. Finally I let out another sigh and step back, giving him a quick but strong kiss before pulling away, leaving him to blink in surprise with an audible gasp as he tries to reach up and grab onto me. But I’m already moving away, intent on catching Trouble now.

As she takes a cloth from one of the various pockets in her layered, voluminous robes and shakes it open, Trouble heads toward the table, but the whole way she seems like she’s moving in a trance, not really concentrating on anything right now. Even when she gives the bundled fabric a good snap, it seems like something done on instinct, her eyes still distant as they fail to focus on anything. Finally she starts wiping her hands and wrists, and I’m a moment realising they’re heavily painted with blood, much like her sword. I wonder how much of that is actually even Riv’s.

“Trouble?” She doesn’t respond as I draw close, even when I say her name. I step into her side and lay my hand on her shoulder. “Trouble. Are you with me?”

For a moment she still doesn’t respond, just idly scrubbing at her fingers. She stripped off her ubiquitous kid gloves sometime after we arrived, preparing to heal Riveck, and I realise now they’re shaking a little. Then she blinks and looks up at me, and she looks every bit as haunted as she did when she first arrived, even if she has found her focus again. “Um … honestly, boss? I really couldn’t say.”

Trying not to frown again, I breathe in shallow so it doesn’t show so much. “How is he?”

For a moment she doesn’t seem to understand the question, her brows furrowing, but finally sighs: “Well on his way to drinking himself into unconsciousness, but I think he’s earned it this time.”

I have to smile at that, rueful as it is. “I really can’t argue with you there.”

“He was smart to leave the darts in. One of them was buried awfully close to the artery. Pulling it out could have hurt him much worse.” Her frown deepens as she licks her lips. “I repaired it the best I could, but his arm’s likely to be pretty stiff for a few days. He won’t be at his best.”

“Is he ever?” I venture, mostly hoping to lighten the mood now.

She doesn’t laugh like I hoped for, instead just looking down at the floor, and that haunted look is getting worse. “I … think I killed one of them.”

Oh hell … yeah, I thought that might’ve been it. I try not to sigh as I give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Trouble … you know what we’ve been hired to do, right?”

When she looks up this time her eyes are wet, and her lips tight. “I know, I … I tried. She came at me and I reacted. It was a fight, and things happened that were beyond my control. But then …” Her lip’s starting to wobble, her eyes brimming as she looks up at me, her expression almost pleading now. “I didn’t even mean to … I … it just …”

Taking hold of both of her arms as roughly as I dare, I turn her to face me directly, leaning forward so I can get as face to face with her as I can given our significant height difference, and give her a good hard stare. “Trouble, that’s enough. We were hired to do a job, and we’re doing it. You did what you were supposed to. So you did the right thing. More or less.”

She just looks back at me, clearly shaken, her eyes wide, and a single tear rolls right down her cheek to drip from her chin. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes. She looks so lost, though … I want to hug her, I really do, but this is not the time. I need her strong.

Growling, I look down at the floor and take a deep breath, composing my thoughts as I search for the right words. Finally I look up, and squeeze a little tighter now, narrowing my eyes. “You remember when we first me?”

For a moment she just blinks, her brows creasing again as she just looks at me. As if she hasn’t understood me. I’m about to ask again when she looks down, then back up again, and finally manages to stutter out: “I … I w-was … it was in that tavern. In Tuulst. That man –”

“He thought you were easy pickings. That a cleric, especially a young one, like you, who was a good deal smaller than him and a little too quiet and shy for her own good, wouldn’t fight back. I remember that too. He had you pinned in the corner, he thought he could do anything he wanted. But he was wrong, wasn’t he?”

Again, she blinks, her frown deepening as she remembers the moment, her eyes growing haunted again, but in a different way. “He … yes, he was. I …”

“You tore his throat open. With your teeth. I’d never seen anything like it, certainly wouldn’t have expected it, certainly not once I’d pulled him off while he was still twitching, and got a proper look at you. You did what you had to, and it worked out.” I loosen my grip, just a bit, softening my face a little too. “I need that girl again. This is a tough spot, like that one was. You need to fight again. Can you do that?”

Her eyes are still wet, but as she dips her chin she still keeps them locked on mine, and she sets her jaw, her expression smoothing out, becoming more resolved. She’s pouting somewhat now, but it’s not out of anxiety or frustration any more. Now it’s stubbornness. Much more what we need right now. “I’ll … I’m going to … yes. Yes, I’ll try. I …” She lets a sigh go and lowers her head. “Yes.”

I hold on for a moment longer, but my grip is already softening to little more than a light rest on her arms now. Watching her for a few moments more. But I’m convinced now, enough at least. “All right. Good.”

When she looks up again she sniffs hard, and it sounds a bit wet but she still looks strong. She raises the rag in her hand and, after a thoughtful moment regarding it, shuffles it about in her fingers until she’s found reasonably clean spot and gives her eyes a good wipe. “I need to clean my sword. My Lady would be … offended by the neglect.”

Nodding, I reach up and give her a gentle chuck under her chin, which makes her smile like it always does. It’s a sad, fragile one, but still a smile, and I let her go easy enough.

When I turn I find that Suret’s watching me with a particularly cool, critical look. I’m about to speak to her, although I’m not really sure what I’m actually going to say, when the door opens, and I can’t help it, I start moving immediately.

The moment I see Vandryss’ face as she just strolls in, with a genuine spring in her step and a cocky smile like a cat that’s caught a particularly fat little bird, I want to break her nose. Maybe worse than that, my fingers are already tightening, my palms itching in anticipation for the first punch. She doesn’t see me coming yet, instead looking to Jammund as her grin grows. “All right then, we’ve finally made some bloody progress. Time to –”

“I want a word, if you don’t mind.” I snarl as I draw close, and the way I’m squaring up as I move must give me away because Kuth steps up to intercept me now, reaching out to hold me back. “We didn’t sign on for that –“

Vandryss turns and her expression changes instantly, eyes almost seeming to flare are her face darkens. “Are you still singing this pathetic little song, Mallys? I thought you’d finally seen some fucking sense.”

Kuth grips me arm to keep my from lunging at her, but I just keep my cool anyway, instead simply fixing her with a particularly cold glare. “Perhaps, but there are some lines we don’t cross. There have to be some limits, or we’re going to wind up getting burned.”

“Don’t act all high and mighty with me, it doesn’t wash.” She steps closer now, baring her unnervingly sharp teeth as she cranes up at me. She’s significantly smaller and I’m sure I must be stronger too, but she shows no fear at all interacting with me. She’s like one of those little dogs that bark at beasts big enough to swallow them whole, her sheer balls, or simple deluded ignorance. “Hontiresk told us all about what you used to do, back when you worked for his father. You’re no innocent, either. You’ve tortured folk too, more than once. Killed in cold blood, worse than that, even. Genuine murder. Still do sometimes, I heard.”

“Silver Order’s too much heat, Vandryss. Even a child knows that.” I say it as level as I can, but there’s still an edge I can’t keep from my words.

She smiles again, flashing her fangs as she cocks her head, and I’m really starting to hate that look. “You let me worry about those little details, Mistress Mallys. Part of what you’re being paid for is to look the other way.”

This time I genuinely come within a hair’s breadth of hitting her, I swear my hand almost moves on its own, and I barely manage to cover it at the last as I hold it back by shifting my stance, but in the end I realise that must look like I’m backing away, just a little. I see her brow cock a little at that, and it gives me chills to see it. The last thing I want with this woman is to give her even the mistaken idea she might intimidate me. So I narrow my eyes and suck on my own fangs for a second, then lean in again. ”I’m paid to be a professional, just like the rest of my team. Which means not taking fucking idiotic risks.”

Her smile doesn’t fade as she takes a step back and looks down, regarding me from a rather more coy angle which is definitely spoiled by her feral grin. “Oh please, by all means keep telling yourself that, too. Anything to justify what we’re asking you to do. It’ll be so much easier that way.”

Drawing back a little more, I regard her like she’s some kind of venomous thing that’s suddenly sprung up when I least expected it, which is not too far from the truth right now. I start to reply but Jammund just steps forward, inserting himself as gently and unobtrusively as he can between us as he looks down at Vandryss in particular.

“Maybe we’re gettin’ off track.” His voice is a good deal more level than the very sharp, pointed look he’s giving her now would suggest. “We’re just talking ourselves in circles, an’ it ain’t doing us no good. There was a point to all this, right? You mentioned progress.”

Vandryss regards him for a long beat, her smile evaporating almost immediately as her expression becomes quite pensive, then she shoots a cautious look to me again. “I did, yes. But this is hardly –”

“Reckon maybe this time, in the interest of maintaining some peace …” He continues to stare down at her, a little harder now, clearly intent on making his point. “Since we’re working together?”

Her frown holds for a few more moments as her regard grows colder still, then she turns away with a resigned hiss and just shrugs. “Fuck it, why not?” She looks my way again, her stare more shrewd now. “Foxtail’s seen sense. I imagine it was threatening to eat his daughter alive in front of him that really did it, although giving her a good hard throttling first likely made my point pretty well.”

Again I have to consciously choke down the urge to just attack her, and I know this time it would’ve been a good deal worse since I was just itching to draw my sword and cut her head clean off her shoulders. Instead I just clench my fists good and tight and set my jaw, glaring back with all the fire I can allow myself while I feel what’s burning inside me grow hotter. It’s probably best if I don’t just vomit flames right in her face right now.

Clearly Vandryss must pick up on it, the way she starts to smile again, just a small, sly one this time. “I’ve given him a little time to stew, hopefully that might let it sink in a little deeper that I’m not fucking around. Then I’m going back in there so I can ask him again who’s been helping him in the Provisional government, and perhaps outside of it too. So I know who else we have to kill.”

This time I just can’t stop myself, I step towards her, too tense to stop myself as I square up now. “Now wait just a minute, we already –”

“Relax.” she almost chuckles, her eyes actually twinkling a little, that strange fire in them making it all the more unnerving. “That’s not a job you need to concern yourselves with, I can take care of that one myself. Or at least shop it out to my own people.” She shrugs. “So to speak.”

I hear a low, guarded hiss behind me, and can’t help turning now to find Trouble’s looking up from where she’s sat on one of the chair’s currently working on cleaning the dried blood from her sword blade with an oily rag. The look in her narrowed eyes as she regards Vandryss is cold hate, but there’s a certain fervent dread in them too that I’ve rarely seen, at least outside of our few encounters with some truly fell things out in the deep wilds. She’s gripping the overlong handle of her sword tight enough to pale her knuckles, and I really can’t blame her.

If Vandryss notices this time, she keeps it to herself, simply turning to Tavarrat now. “I’d appreciate you coming in with me, if you don’t mind. Just in case he decides to try holding back after all, I might need a little extra grease. If you know what I mean.”

The wizard visibly blanches, her shoulders hunching a little more as she gently pushes herself away from the wall. “Van, I’m not sure I … this is not –”

Rolling her eyes, Vandryss rests her hands on her hips and gives Tavarrat a tired glare. “Perhaps I phrased that a little too much like a request. You’re coming in with me, because I might need you to compel him to give me the answers I need after all. Hopefully he’ll be a little more compliant now so this time it might actually work.”

Tavarrat turns to Jammund now, clearly beseeching, but he’s stood by with his arms folded tight, looking somewhat resigned. After a moment he simply shrugs with a weighty sigh and nods to her. “She’s right, it’s gotta be done. I don’t like it any more’n you do, but there ain’t a lot o’ choice.”

The look that she gives him when he says that … it’s not frustration, but not really betrayal, either, more simple dismay. Her eyes flicker to me for a moment and that almost feels like a plea for help too, but she shies away almost as quickly, instead looking at the floor for a long beat while taking a deep breath. “Darion … I mean , he’s … it’s not –”

“I’ll be coming in too.” I surprise myself as much as Tavarrat when I speak up, didn’t even realise I was going to do it until the words were out, but now I see the sense in it, anyway. Perhaps it’ll give me a chance to keep an eye on Vandryss while we’re in there, anyway. I look down at her now, giving her my most immovable glare. “No arguments, please. You’ll just be wasting your breath, and honestly it smells bad anyway.”

Kuth snorts behind me, and I hear Suret join in a beat after in a particularly sweet show of solidarity. Vandryss just narrows her eyes, her lips tightening, and doesn’t spit out a retort this time like I would’ve expected her to. Instead she just watches me for a very uncomfortable moment before simply shrugging. “Whatever, it makes no difference to me. Just don’t fuck with me in there. It’s not your part of the job, so you have no right to mess with mine. Understood?”

“Fuck you. Truly, I could not care less about what you want. I just want to be sure you’re not fucking us in there with your carelessness. Am I understood?”

Vandryss hisses again, making another move towards me, but again Jammund puts up his hand and presses hard against her collarbone, and she defers. “Van, she’s right. You should be careful not to go too far in this. Foxtail’s kid ain’t no use to us dead, and two wizards in hand are way better’n one. Besides, she might be able to tell us a bit more about who we’re up against, so it makes sense for Mistress Mallys to be in there too.”

After a brooding, thoughtful moment, Vandryss cocks a brow and regards me again, turning shrewd again. “Fine, come in, if you want, I’ll let you have second crack at her once I’m finished. Just don’t fuck with me in the meantime.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I snap back, but she’s already stepping away from me, flickering her fingers at the former Order wizard now as she goes in the most arrogantly dismissive show of dominance I’ve ever witnessed. Tavarrat simply lets another heavy sigh go and collects her staff, then detours to me before following Vandryss.

“Thank you for that. I … I’m sorry. I’m not usually –”

“I’m not doing it for you, I just want to make sure my people don’t end up getting hurt by having one of them dead on our hands by association. I don’t trust that twisted bitch not to kill the half-elf without even thinking about it first.”

Tavarrat’s frown deepens at that, but still she nods. Then I feel someone grab hold of my wrist and I’m brought up short before the door. When I turn I find Kuth, giving me a particularly earnest look. “You want me to come with you?”

As sweet as his gesture is, I don’t think it would be a smart move. I’m going to have to work hard enough to keep myself restrained in there, I don’t want to have to keep an eye on him too. So I reach over with my other hand and give his wrist a gentle squeeze of my own. “No, I want you to stay here. Keep an eye on the others. Especially Trouble. See if you can shake her out of her funk.”

He blinks, frowning a little. “How?”

“I don’t know. Tell her that joke you know. The one that makes me laugh.”

His grip loosens enough as he ponders that for me to slip free, and as I head to the door he’s still wondering. Finally he calls after me: “Which one’s that? You never laugh at any o’ my jokes.”

I’m already through the door. There’s one of Jammund’s men stood on the other side of it, who gently closes it behind me, and I turn to look him over as I pass. They’re every one of them exactly the kind of rough, world-worn common thug I would have expected a former pirate to crew around with, if I’m honest. Salty, uncouth and more than a few of them clearly aren’t very bright, but they make up for it with ruthless edge and strong backs, every one covered in scars and armed to the teeth. This is one of the younger ones, one of the many half-orcs he seems to favour, and they hold my eye longer than a few have before, I notice. The careless, overly-inflated confidence of youth. I almost smile seeing it.

Vandryss is waiting at the far end of the corridor, I realise, just short of the corner, while Tavarrat seems to have hung back in deference to me now, and I wonder if it’s because she clearly just doesn’t like the strange woman. I wouldn’t blame her for that, the pale bitch give me the creeps. I take a beat to check my gear over and start off after them, and she falls into step with me as I reach her.

“So you know Foxtail, then?” I ask her after a moment.

She gives me a rather furtive sidelong glance at that, then shrugs. “No. Not really. I mean … he’s a legend in the Order, just as much as he is outside of it. More so in many ways. He’s an inspiration to many of us, so …” That makes her frown again, looking down at the floor again for a moment. “Or he was. It’s … complicated. But I couldn’t have gotten through the Academy and then life in the Order after without encountering that name, and hearing the stories. That makes this … it’s –”

“Difficult?”

“Perhaps.” she breathes out in a particularly weighty sigh as we turn the corner to find Vandryss has already made her way down to a door at the far end and is now waiting again, looking frustrated. “Problematic, certainly. I –”

“Dram!” Tham’s voice checks me, and I stop on the spot, turning quick to find her approaching up the other branch of this T-junction. She’s a dirty mess, and there’s a rather rough looking cut on her cheek, but otherwise she looks pretty healthy, which is a relief.

Then I see Ixen behind her, and I realise she clearly got off light. He looks like he’s been thoroughly battered, he’s not even capable of walking on his own, instead a grizzly-bearded human veteran of Jammund’s is helping him along with his long arm slung over some impressively broad shoulders. They’re of a height, at least, and he’s clearly a big, burly sort so he’s having no problems at all holding up the imori’s lean, wiry weight, but Ix certainly doesn’t look too happy about it. He’s got several dirty, rough looking scrapes and cuts crisscrossing his face, and his right arm, dangling limp at his side, looks somewhat mangled out of true, the long fingers similarly bent, while he’s clearly wincing with every step. I get the impression there’s more damage than just what I can see.

“Bloody hell … what happened?”

“Their bloody cleric happened.” Thamree growls, and I realise he mood isn’t just down to our pet killer’s condition, or even her own much more modest wound. “Some tengu, no bigger’n a dwarf but definitely strong as one. Had a big fuckin’ hammer, and he swung it like a bastard. And other god stuff too, like Trouble does, prob’ly a cleric. Broke my best bow.”

“From the look of it he broke more than that.” I almost step forward to reach out for Ix as he’s brought to a very uncomfortable stop beside Tham, but hold short. He blinks somewhat as he looks up at me, but I see that, while he’s clearly been fucked up badly, he’s still with us, his eyes at least clear enough to focus on me. “Thorin, Ix … how bad are you hurt?”

“Bastard didn’t break my back, at least, but my ribs are fucked.” he hisses with a gritted wince “Ah … my arm took the worst of it, mind. He caught me napping. I’m looking to pay it back soon as we can.”

“You’ll get your chance.” I mean it when I say it, seeing the two of them, but Ix in particular, gets me hot enough to dull a little of the mercy I might otherwise have for our captive, though I wonder if that’s actually likely to last once I see Vandryss at work. Frowning deeper, I turn back to Tham. “Get to Trouble, she’ll fix him up. And get yourself looked at as well. You look … well, better than him, but still rough.”

Her frown deepening, she shakes her head. “I’m all right, just –“

“No, I mean it, Tham. I need everyone back in good condition as soon as possible. Fighting fit. We might need to head out soon.” I look at Ix, who honestly looks ready for a rest. “Well, within reason. Just tell me, you did what we talked about, right?”

“Course I did, boss.” She gives me a sharp look, but I think it’s more just her fatigue making her cranky. “We weren’t followed, I’m sure of it. ‘Sides, we had the getaway set up right, didn’t we?”

Casting a quick, cautionary look to Tavarrat, I can’t help frowning myself. She simply shrugs, which doesn’t fill me with much more confidence.

“Not wanting to press anyone, but we have things to do!” Vandryss calls from the other end of the corridor, and it’s enough to set my teeth on edge again. I fight the urge to glare at her and simply let a sigh go, turning back to my friends.

“Go on. See Trouble, get fixed up. Get some food, and rest. I’ll be busy for a little while anyway.”

Tham gives me a pointed look at that, but holds her tongue. Instead she turns to the man supporting Ix and cocks her head in the direction of the storeroom where the others are. “Let’s go.”

Clenching my jaw, I make a point of ignoring Vandryss when I turn back, instead concentrating on Tavarrat as I start walking again. The wizard’s watching me again, but I can’t quite read her this time, I clearly don’t know her well enough yet to work out what she’s actually thinking. So I just mutter, as much to myself really: “Let’s just get this over with.” and fall into step with her.

Ahead, Vandryss gives us both a particularly cold look as she digs in her pockets for a moment. Finally she produces a bunch of keys, and after sorting through it for a beat or two, selects one which she uses to open the door. She doesn’t wait for us, simply stepping through and leaving it standing open for us both.

“Just keep an eye on her in there.” I say the words before I quite realise it, but I don’t regret them once they’re out. I’m just hoping she’s on the same page. So I lick my lips and give her a look as I add: “You know how bad this could get. We need to keep her reined in.”

Tavarrat stops a little short of the door and turns to me, looking a little more nervous but not so much she can’t meet my gaze now. “Honestly, I don’t know if we can. She’s …” She blanches, looking down at the floor again.

“What … an evil cunt? Hardly a revelation.”

That makes her look up again, a little sharper than I expected. “No … no, it’s … you don’t understand, and I don’t think I can tell you. Just …” She sighs, growing resigned. “Honestly, just watch out for yourself in there. Please.”

She turns away and steps through the door before I can reply, but then I’m genuinely unsure how I could respond to that one. Something about the way she said that gives me fresh chills, significantly worse than before. I have to shake it off just to start moving again, clenching my jaw as tightly as I’m suddenly gripping the sword at my side for reassurance, really starting to worry now as I finally step into the room.

Damn it … maybe Trouble was right about this shit …

TO BE CONTINUED ...

#never split the party #The Creeping Bam #the adventures of the creeping bam #book 3 chapter 25 #original fiction #fantasy fiction #original fantasy fiction #to be continued

0 notes

7r0773r · 2 years ago

Text

Another Planet by Tracey Thorn

It wasi ntended to be utopian. Although when twentieth-.century critic lan Douglas Nairn coined the term 'subtopia', he was very much sneering at everything he felt had gone wrong with England's architecture and design, suburban style having, in his opinion, encroached upon and ruined the landscape. Yoking together the words suburban and utopia, you end up with a description of something that is clearly sub-standard. Very much less than utopian. A suburban dystopia.

But then, even the word 'suburb' itself has a kind of negative connotation, coming from the Latin suburbium, which is a joining together of the words sub (under) and urbs (city). We use it to mean, more or less, the outskirts of the city, or the residential areas that surround a city, being within easy reach of the urban workplace. And yet we must sense within the word itself the implication that the suburb is ranked below the city, is inferior in some way. Or even that it is literally below the city, located underneath it — subterranean, hidden. Like a crypt. Is it where all the bodies are buried? It's certainly where all the secrets are hidden. (p. 142)

***

In Hanif Kureishi’s The Buddha of Suburbia, narrator Karim says, 'the proletatiat of the suburbs did have strong class feeling. It was virulent and hate-filled and directed entirely at the people beneath them.’ I think of my parents, both originally from working-class families, each of their fathers starting out as train drivers, calling other people ‘common’. And then the irony of the fact that they themselves, and people like them, ended up being looked down on by both sides: not properly of the middle class in that they were not educated or cultured, they could then also be sneered at from the left, for being too privatised in their thinking, too keen on improving their own personal lot, too keen on buying things. Nice things, even. Although, when I think about that, I always think of the quote from Lucky Jim: ‘There was no end to the ways in which nice things are nicer than nasty ones.’ (pp. 146-47)

***

I said to someone recently, as my only piece of advice on the parenting of teenagers, 'Be prepared for them to lie to you.’ I thought I had lied because I had to — because I didn't want to confront my parents, and because the rules were too strict. But I've been more liberal with my kids, and we've always been more open with each other. I said to them, I don't mind much what you do, just don't lie to me. I like to know where you are. And one by one, at various times, for various reasons, they have all lied to me. Sometimes for good, or understandable reasons: to protect me, to stop me worrying about something they knew was ok. Sometimes just not to have to talk about something. In other words, it makes me think, teenagers NEED to lie. It doesn't mean that parenting has failed. It's part of the process of breaking away, and forging a separate identity. Having private information is their version of the blank page. (pp. 150-51)

***

Then came my menopause, and I went a bit mad. Along with the night sweats and sudden mood swings, the unaccountable rages and tears and irritability, came a worsening of the anxiety from which I'd always suffered, triggering days and nights of catastrophic thinking, terror, overwhelming and inescapable thoughts of doom and disaster, illness, imprisonment, death and loss. And I remembered what Mum had been like when I was a teenager, and the fact that she would have been menopausal, having had a hysterectomy after a cancer scare, which, of course was never described to us at the time as a cancer scare, but which must have been terrifying, and which triggered an abrupt and extreme menopause.

This is the diary entry I find hardest to read now, because of what it tells me about her.

5 April 1978 — 'Got up about 10.30. Deb had a driving lesson. Mum went to the doctor and got some tranquillisers to calm her down a bit! Watched Crown Court.’

Look how little I cared, or understood. Well fair enough, I was only fifteen. But it hits me hard now. For she did try to talk about her complicated feelings. She did try to ask for help. She broke the code and admitted to feeling something, and she went to the doctor and she was put on Valium. (pp. 161-62)

***

As Ben has written, we never know our parents as we are growing up, only getting to understand them once we are ourselves standing in their old, discarded shoes, and perhaps it can't be any other way. You hear people talk about ‘the family drama’, and if there is such a thing then it often feels like the characters in it are sketchily drawn and two-dimensional. And the role of parent, which seems so demanding while you're playing it, requires mostly that you under-act. That you don't commandeer too much of the spotlight, or step out of character, or ad-lib, or ask what your motivation is. But if we don't know our parents, I do also wonder whether they ever know us.

In later years, after my break to have children, when I went back to music and recorded an album called Out of the Woods in 2007, I sent them a copy, expecting a phone call or something a day or two later. Hoping for parental praise, as you always do, as you still do even when you're a grown-up and a success and a mother. It never came. They never mentioned it, or said anything about the record. Debbie told me later they'd found it hard to understand, and I was never sure what exactly was hard to understand. The music? Or the reason for making a record? The need? Perhaps that.

Later still, when I wrote Bedsit Disco Queen, my dad's only comment to Debbie was, ‘I never knew Tracey was so into music.’ Which still makes me laugh till I cry for all it says about how much we can remain a complete and utter mystery to those who should know us the best.

And then again, in even later years, he would say to Debbie, in reference to something or other I had done, some inexplicable action, some bizarre life choice — and this, remember, when I was a middle-aged, middle-class woman, married to the man I'd been with for over thirty years, with three children, living a respectable middle-class life in a respectable middle-class enclave of north London — he would say, 'Oh, Tracey. She's from another planet.'

Another planet. (pp. 198-99)

#Tracey Thorn #book quotes

1 note · View note

askaborderline · 2 years ago

Note

Hi hello I’m SO sorry because I’ve been out of the mental health loop for a bit— what does BPD stand for? And it’s a different diagnosis from DID (dissociative identity disorder), yes? I’ve been poking around because you guys have some awesome tips to help with The Trauma!! I want to be informed :)

Hi, I'm just going to link a writeup I did for a server of mine - BPD stands for "borderline personality disorder", and it has nothing to do with DID, though they sometimes present in the same individual.

"BPD is a very complicated condition, like any cluster B, but it can most easily be defined by a great fear of abandonment and demonization. People with BPD will go to extreme measures to avoid abandonment and often feel strong paranoia about being abandoned. People with BPD suffer from black-and-white thinking and a struggle with "splitting" - they struggle with holding mixed or nuanced thoughts on things and people, and their relationships can often be split apart as they can only see a person as "all good" or "all bad". This can extend to things outside of relationships as well!

People with BPD also struggle with their sense of self, and their interests and moral values are susceptible to change and uncertainty - they have a hard time consistently defining themselves, and these perceptions can change with their mood swings. People with BPD suffer from intense emotional dysregulation and periodic states of "emptiness" - they can generally only feel one emotion at a time, but they feel it quite extremely, and they usually do not feel mild emotions. Depression is almost always suicidal agony, anger is almost always violent rage, etc. That said, most people with BPD are usually not prone to hurting others, often choosing to hurt themselves.

People with BPD also tend to suffer from states of emptiness, where they feel numb and little at all. These empty states often lead to intense boredom and underlying tension, and they often indulge in impulsive behaviors (like drugs, alcohol, casual sex, gambling, reckless driving, etc) in order to rid themselves of boredom or to cope with their suicidal phases. Suicidal ideation and self harm are incredibly common in BPD, and the mood swings do not necessarily need an external cause.

The intense emotions of those with BPD also often leads to dissociation - a disconnect with reality that can feel like floating outside of oneself, derealization, and feelings of not really being "here"."

Hope that helps!

Cheers, Jane

#aab #mod jane #tw sui ideation #tw drugs mention #tw alcohol mention #tw sh related

30 notes · View notes

winter-soldier-vibes · 4 years ago

Note

I have a request for your future work. If you are comfortable writing this topic, I'd love to read it.

I have always had very bad cramps when I'm on my period. I also have PMS so I struggle with pain a week before my period starts. And It makes me think, if I could not let go of this cruel pain until menopause, I'd rather stop living. (Sorry it sounds heavy)

I want Bucky to comfort women who are struggling with serious period cramps ( Dysmenorrhea ) and PMS.

Thank you for reading my request! You can ignore this if you are not feeling right!

I love you so much❤️

Of course!!!

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

PMS for Please Make it Stop

Bucky x reader

Summary: Reader suffers from severe cramps and PMS symptoms on and in between her periods. Bucky, her boyfriend, comforts her as much as he can.

Word count: 1666

Warnings: talk of everything that comes with periods, pain and cramps, PMS, fluff

A/N: Thank you for the request, and I am so sorry that it’s so painful for you! I’ve had a lot of experience with “that time of the month” feeling completely unbearable, and I hope that this fic is helpful! I don’t know exactly what you’re going through because each person has different symptoms with different severities and time spans. I truly hope that this helps you! I’m always here to talk as a fellow person with periods and the emotions that come with them!

Tags: @mardema @buckfics @stucky-on-spiderman @buckys2thicc @abitgryffindorky @barnesplums @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @babyboibucky

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

You rolled over in bed, curling in on yourself and using your pillow to suppress a groan. It was early morning, you could tell because the sun was up but Bucky hadn’t left for his run with Steve yet. It was that time of the month again, the one you hated so goddamn much. The one every woman hated so much. But it was never just the few days of blood they had taught you about in sex ed.

You hadn’t been prepared for the cramps, bloating, mood swings, headaches, cravings, and pain…

So. Much. Pain.

You could handle blood, that wasn’t an issue for you. You had seen your share of bloodshed on the battlefield. It was the horrible cramps that felt like something was stabbing you from the inside out constantly for a week preceding the bloodshed that was too much for you. It paralyzed you in a way. It hurt to do anything at all. As much as you hated to admit it, you could deal with any cut, burn, or broken bone. But these cramps had you curled in a ball with tears in your eyes.

You let out another groan and felt Bucky stir next to you. He turned over and rubbed one of his hands up and down your arm and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, why are you awake?” he asked softly, sleep still lacing his voice. There were only 2 reasons that you would be awake. Either you had a nightmare, or...

You let out a small whimper as another wave of pain came over you.

...cramps.

“Hey, it’s okay, come here,” he said before carefully wrapping his arm around your stomach, rubbing small circles over your stomach. He brought his body flush against you so his chest to your back, without squeezing you too tightly. You sighed in relief, his warm body easing your pain slightly. He pressed soft kisses to your temple, whispering reassuring words in your ear.

He had learned a lot rather quickly when it came to helping you with your pain. He hadn’t known much at all at first, growing up in the 40’s where people never talked about it. When he had first walked in on you curled in the fetal position, crying and whimpering, he had been so worried. So when you referred to it as ‘just a period’ and that ‘it’s happened before', he was very confused.

He thought a period was something you ended a sentence with.

You had sent him to Nat and Wanda to explain what was happening. You had synced up with them naturally, but their cramps weren’t as severe as you. Everyone's experiences of periods, their symptoms, and PMS differently, but they felt bad for the severity of yours.

He was very confused as to why he had to ask other people about your pain. When he approached the two wide-eyed and confused, asking why you were in severe pain with no injuries, they had to try not to laugh.

They explained the basics to him, and what was off-limits. No assuming it was happening because of mood swings, no expecting you to keep functioning at peak condition, no mentioning how the emotional mood swings were happening

He was just in awe of it - how women were expected to just act naturally as if they weren’t bleeding at a constant rate while dealing with horrible pain and emotional mood swings. He thought that it was amazing that it was expected that they act naturally.

It took a little bit of trial and error and a lot of patience on both your parts, but he knew how he could help make these days as bearable as he could.

He would spend these days close to you, showing you a lot of affection. He would be gentle and patient with you, reminding you how much he loved you. He would get you anything you needed, be it food or pads or tampons. Once you had sent him to get pads and tampons and he had come back with one of every box with a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t know which ones you wanted so I got...all of them.”

You had laughed so hard that it hurt, but it was worth it. He made you promise not to tell Sam.

But eventually, he had learned what you needed. How he could help. The heat helped ease your cramps, so he’d hold you close, but not tightly. Rubbing your stomach helped too, in slow, lazy circles.

While he hated seeing you in pain, he loved taking care of you. Anything he could do to help you he would do.

Another cramp made you shift slightly, trying to find the impossible position that would help relieve the constant pain. You let out a small groan, trying to curl in tighter on yourself. Bucky pressed a small kiss to your temple.

“It’s okay angel, it’s alright.”

“It hurts,” you said, voice cracking.

“I know it does, I know,” he said, using his left hand to brush some hair out of your face.

“I just want it to stop hurting so much,” you said, letting out another pained whimper.

“I can’t imagine,” he said, sincerely. He couldn’t imagine the same pain every month with no relief or solution. He knew just how strong you were, strong as anyone on the team if not stronger. Seeing you in this much pain must have meant it was unbearable.

“I can’t make it go away but I’m here to do whatever I can to help, okay?” he whispered against your skin.

“I’m sorry about this,” you said.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Did you choose to go through this?” he asked softly.

“N-no.”

“Then you have nothing to apologize for.”

You nodded slightly, your heart melting. You tried to take slow and even breaths. After a few moments passed, he asked “Can I help you to the shower? You always say how much the hot water helps.”

You paused for a moment before you nodded, and he pressed another kiss to your temple before standing up and moving to the other side of the bed to help you stand. Moving from your position sounded like the worst idea right now, but you took a deep breath before taking his hands. You sat up slowly, groaning as your hand wrapped around your stomach. You stood up shortly after, bending forward slightly as you made your way to the bathroom with Bucky. He had noticed a bloodstain on the bed, but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to know that.

He turned on the water for you, checking the temperature every few moments. Once he deemed that it was hot enough but wasn’t going to burn your skin, he told you and gave you a quick hug before giving you some privacy. You had always enjoyed intimate showers together just...not when you had your period to worry about. When he closed the door, you started to slowly undress to get into the shower. You got into the shower, sighing in relief as it helped soothe your cramps.

Bucky, meanwhile, was working fast. First he texted Steve that he wouldn’t be able to make it to training today, knowing he would understand. He then moved to make the bed with clean sheets, so you wouldn't see the small bloodstain on the current ones. He didn’t want you to worry or feel bad about it. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and one of his t-shirts that you had always loved. He cracked the bathroom door open and placed them on the counter, careful not to disturb you. He then quickly ran down to the kitchen, still empty for the moment, and grabbed a few of your favorite snacks along with a few water bottles to bring back upstairs.

When he came back to the room, he noticed the water had been turned off. He set the water and snacks on the bedside table as you opened the bathroom door, hair in a messy bun and looking much more refreshed. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” you said quietly before wincing slightly. Bucky gave you a small smile before taking your hand and bringing you over to the bed, him sitting down and leaning against the headboard. He helped you sit down between his legs so you were able to lean your back against his chest. You laid your head back against him and he wrapped his arms around you so his human arm was on your lower stomach, his metal arm resting over it. You let out a small sigh, relaxing back against him. He pressed a small kiss to your temple, rubbing smooth lazy circles on your stomach.

“Try to get some rest, doll.” he whispered. “We can watch your favorite movie when you wake up.”

You turned slightly to look up at him. “But you hate that movie.”

“But you don’t,” he said simply.

You felt tears brim your eyes even though it felt so stupid. “I love you, Bucky.’

“I love you too angel,” he whispered, pressing a last kiss to the side of your head. “Try to get some rest.”

743 notes · View notes

lucy90712 · 3 years ago

Text

cravings/mood swings (pregnancy series)

Series masterlist

George:

The hormones from pregnancy have made me an entirely different person at times which was a huge shock to both me and George when they first started to hit because I've always been pretty good with my emotions and hormones even when on my period. To me it isn't as bad because I only notice after my mood swings but poor George has to deal with me during.

George came down the stairs after filming a video and came to join me sat on the sofa. I was eating salty crisps (chips) some of which George stole as he sat down, this really set off my hormones for whatever reason and I looked at him with just pure anger that he would even dare to steal my food that I had been craving.

"George what the fuck I wanted those" I almost shouted

"I'm sorry love I didn't mean to I can get you more if you want them" he said panicked slightly

I gave no reaction to what George said as I came down from my rage because I realised I was being way too over the top. I always feel awful when I yell at George because he doesn't deserve it at all but he just happens to be around all the time so he's the one who bares the brunt of all my emotions. I apologised to George and gave him some of my crisps to make up for it and we cuddled on the sofa for a bit.

Later in the evening George was showing me cute videos he has of cat from when he was in his office which were just so adorable and made me so incredibly happy but then the sadness came over and tears started to fall down my face.

"Hey what's wrong?" George asked

"It's just so cute like how can one small animal be so cute" I sobbed

He comforted me and we spent the rest of the evening doing things that didn't provoke any emotions in me.

Dream:

My cravings have been very strong though my pregnancy so far which is a combination of normal things and weird concoctions just whatever I was feeling in that exact moment and I mean that exact moment. My cravings are things that have to be satisfied within the hour or else it's too late and I get over it.

It's about 10pm and I'm just chilling waiting for Clay to get out the shower so we can watch the office together. At that exact moment a craving for pickles came over me, its not a craving I've had before but its one that I know is kind of common. I checked all the cupboards and fridge to see if we had any but we didn't which made me quite sad.

Clay came down the stairs to see me staring at the empty cupboard with a few tears in my eyes. He came over to me looking at what I was before becoming very confused at what exactly was going through my mind clearly wondering if I was going a bit insane.

"Is everything alright?" He asked

"We don't have any pickles" I whined

"Do you want me to go and get you some?" He asked

I nodded my head and we went to the car to drive to the store to go buy pickles mainly because I didn't want to be left alone. Clay actually went into the store while I stayed in the car because he didn't want me getting cold but he soon came back with two jars of pickles just incase I wanted more another day.

Back at home I ate half the pickles in the jar and very much enjoyed it and so did baby which was the whole point of going to get them. I imagine just like every other craving I will get over it and move on to a new one.

Sapnap:

My mood swings have been insane so far during pregnancy like way morse than they would be before my period is due to arrive. I feel so awful that Sapnap has to deal with me because he used to hate it when I got so very emotional before my period and now its constant and like x1000.

I have been slightly more emotional than usual today which has just been ruining my day because I can't seem to get anything done without crying or raging at myself but I've yet to spend much time with Sapnap so he has been spared from my disastrous day so far. This soon changed when he came downstairs and sat with me on the sofa.

He attempted to cuddle with me but something in my brain told me that I didn't want that and I should be mad at him for even trying to be affectionate even though I love him so very much.

"No get off me" I said a bit too harshly

"Oh I'm sorry baby is there anything you want?" He asked trying to be accommodating

I shrugged him off still slightly angry but getting over it very quickly and feeling bad for half yelling at him. My anger soon completely dissolved and was replaced by sadness at the fact that I had yelled and now wanted to cuddle but he wasn't going to want to now right, I mean I've just yelled at him so why would he want to cuddle.

A few tears started to form in my eyes and soon spilled out onto my face wetting my cheeks which I tired to hide by facing away from Sapnap but of course he knows me and tried to see what I was hiding. As soon as he saw I was crying he put his hands on my face to wipe the tears and gave me a kiss.

"What's wrong babe? How can I fix it?" He asked

"I feel bad for yelling and I want cuddles but you don't want to give them to me because I was mean" I explained

"You are so silly of course I'll still give you cuddles if you want them" he said

He pulled me into a big bear hug where we stayed for the rest of the day and night.

Quackity:

I have been having a lot of odd cravings over the past few weeks most of which are completely unnatural and Alex thinks are gross but they actually taste really good. To me at least.

Tonight I was really feeling like eating chicken nuggets with honey, I really wanted to eat it but I was scared to ask Alex to come to the store with me because he would think it was weird and judge me which my fragile little heart couldn't take.

"Alex will you go to the store with me please?" I asked

"Of course love what do you want this time?" He asked

"Chicken nuggets and honey" I whispered

"What was that" he questioned

"Chicken nuggets and honey" I said a bit louder

"That sounds interesting lets go" he said

He grabbed my hand and pulled me up and to the car where we went to McDonald's for the chicken nuggets and then target for the honey before going back home. Alex was interested to try this combination too so the both of us sat down to try it. At first the flavour was really weird but once you got used to it it was really good actually and now I think I'm obsessed and by the looks of things so is Alex because his face looked like he had just had the best thing ever.

Karl:

Oh my has it been a rollercoaster so far, I've been so over emotional and have been craving so many different things it is so hard to keep up with for me let alone Karl.

This morning I was trying to make breakfast and I couldn't open the milk which upset me but then the bowls were up too high so I couldn't reach which made me even more upset but the last straw for this morning was when I had just sat down after struggling with everything and someone rang the doorbell just as I was about to eat the cereal I had really been wanting. I answered the door to collect the parcel the man had before going back to the living room with tears starting to slip down my face.

I'm not sure why I was so upset but I was which stopped me eating my cereal because I was crying which made me cry more because I really wanted the cereal, it was just an awful cycle. Karl walked in as I was staring at my full bowl of cereal sobbing which caused him to run over to see what was wrong.

"Hey hey whats wrong?" He asked

"Nothing is going right and all I want to do is eat my cereal but I can't because I'm crying which is making me more upset" I ranted

"Oh honey I'm sorry how about you follow my breathing to calm down and then eat your cereal ok?" He suggested

He helped me calm down enough to be able to eat my cereal which was kind of soggy by now but I still very much enjoyed it and soon got back to my normal self.

Wilbur:

My hormones are all over the place which normally I can handle but every now and then I get too overly emotional and just cry over random things, this usually happens when I'm alone so I just deal with it myself.

Today Wilbur took the day off from working so he's here to see the rollercoaster that is my day and believe me it can be a rollercoaster. I had a breakdown this morning when doing chores I was unloading the dishwasher and I kept almost dropping everything I touched which made me so mad at myself and really sad at the same time. I just left the room and sat down for a minute talking to myself to sort my brain out then went back to doing chores.

Later in the afternoon we were watching a nature documentary which we do a lot and there was this lizard and her babies that were being hunted by a large bird, I was willing them to get away but the bird caught the babies and the mother got away. This made me so sad that the lizard lost her babies while I was sat there carrying my baby. I started crying thinking about the fact that anything could happen to little bean once their here.

"It's ok love its just natures way" Wilbur said

"But what if bad things happen to bean when their here obviously not like that but anything could happen" I sniffled

"We will protect bean as best we can to stop anything bad happening but for now their safe where they are" Wilbur said

This made me feel better and luckily the rest of the documentary wasn't sad at all and there was some cute moments which made me forget about all my worries.

187 notes · View notes

tanyawritesstories · 3 years ago

Text

Love Comes With A Hat | Kung Lao x Reader

So this fic was actually based off of a dream I had a few months ago. It's based off the movie characters looks because that's the way I saw it in my brain. It's the first fic I've written for a Mortal Kombat character so I hope y'all like it and that it's accurate.

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: technically there's smut but it's brief, pregnancy, drinking, angst, feelings, pregnant reader, Bo Rai Cho is a warning all his own

•••

You stared at the test in your hand, not experiencing the emotions you expected. You were shocked more than anything, it had only been one random night. It was an accident. An accident you remembered quite vividly. It had started as just a few innocent drinks with Kung Lao, Liu Kang, and their master Bo Rai Cho. But if you learned anything about Bo Rai Cho that night, it was that he liked to drink and he liked to buy drinks for everyone. That's how you and Kung Lao both ended up more drunk than you wanted to be, and if you had learned anything about Kung Lao that night it was that he was a flirty drunk. A very flirty drunk. You were too tipsy to care about your respectful relationship with the Shaolin monk and just happy that your friend was showing you some romantic attention. You shamelessly flirted back and for some reason Liu Kang, who you later learned wasn't actually drunk and just kept lying about the supposed vodka soda he was drinking, let you and his best friend continue to get more and more handsy with one another.

At the end of the night, Liu had dropped off you and Kung Lao at their temporary earthrealm lodge and gone to take Bo Rai Cho home since he was blackout drunk. At least you and Kung Lao could still stand. The second the door was closed and locked, he was on you. His hat was thrown to the side as his lips moulded perfectly with yours. You could taste all the alcohol he'd consumed and it only intoxicated you more. After spending half the time at the bar with his hand up your skirt, Kung Lao wanted the real thing. He had picked you up and set you on the table, laying you down and stripping everything off your bottom half. He eagerly explored the treasure between your legs with his fingers. Even when drunk, Kung Lao was precise with his movements. He brought you to the edge with just his fingers before licking your juices off of them and taking off just enough clothing to free his member and plunge it deep within you.

Everything was a blur after that. He was thick and scraped every euphoric nerve in your body with his movements. Your muscles burned and twitched with every groan and growl he let out, his mouth right next to your ear. It wasn't long before that delicious pressure built back up within you and snapped with a few well aimed thrusts. You remember the warm feeling spread through you as Kung Lao released inside, both of you too drunk to worry about protection beforehand. You laid in an uncomfortable position on the table until Kung Lao pulled out of you and stumbled to the bathroom. You were able to get up and clean yourself off a little, put your skirt back on, and collapse on the sofa. Which is exactly where Liu Kang found you when he got back. He let you sleep and took you back to your apartment in the morning after giving you some herbal pain remedies.

You didn't feel any different the next day, or the next week. You threw up a few times the day after, which you were sure was because of the amount of alcohol you consumed. A whole month and a half passed before your nosey roommate, Mia, brought up the idea that you might be pregnant. She had been keeping track of every strange thing you had done for the past month. From getting up to go to the bathroom in the night more than usual, to the random mood swings, to falling asleep at your desk, and eating pickles with hot fudge the other day. Not to mention, your period was three weeks late and you hadn't even noticed. Mia wanted answers, for you as well as herself, and had already bought you a pregnancy test which she promptly thrust at you.

Now, staring at the little stick that read 'pregnant' in plain English, it was all starting to hit you. You didn't go to see Kung Lao and Liu Kang very often. Once, maybe twice, a month if you weren't busy, to put it simply: you didn't know what to do. You heard knocking on the bathroom door before you heard Mia's voice. "You ok in there, hun?" You blinked back tears of confusion and answered her. "Yeah, I'm ok." You stuck the test in your pocket and exited the bathroom to find Mia standing right outside the door. "So, what's the verdict?" You didn't say anything and just handed her the stick. "I knew it, so who's the daddy?" You cocked an eyebrow at her blunt question but decided to answer. "One of my best friends," you said quietly. Her eyes widened as she handed the test back to you. "That's gonna be tough, how are you gonna do it?" You frowned. "Do what?" She shrugged, the nonchalant look on her face starting to annoy you. "Tell him, ya'know, that he knocked you up." You looked at the test in your hand, feeling the strong urge to just snap it in half. "I don't know."

~~~~

You waited two more months, deciding not to tell Kung Lao. He and Liu were your best friends, you didn't want anything to ruin that. You couldn't stay away from them forever, they were already wondering why you hadn't come over the last couple times they invited you. You sent them your work over the computer instead of in person, all the information you had been gathering about potential new champions. Just a few days ago Liu had called just to check in on you, thinking you might be sick or injured. You assured him you weren't but you knew you didn't convince him, he could spot a lie from a mile away.

You had started going to the doctor, getting the proper care and tests done to make sure you and the baby were healthy. You even had ultrasound pictures of your little one, that seemed to cement something in your mind. You needed to tell Kung Lao. Sooner rather than later, before you started showing, there was no hiding it then.

You called Liu Kang before you left and asked him if you could come stay at their place for a night or two. That concerned him a little bit but ultimately he was glad that you would be coming to see him and Kung Lao again. You packed for a couple days and drove for a few hours into the woods where the boy's temporary earthrealm residence was. It was secluded back in the woods along a river popular with fishermen in the morning hours. It blended in and allowed the boys to hide in plain sight, mixed in with the few other fishing cabins along the river. No outworld ruffian would look there.

You arrived at the cabin later than you wanted to, having stopped three times to use the restroom along the way. You had tried not to pack your bags that heavy but you needed clothes and you needed all your computer equipment for work. You grabbed the lightest bag you had and went inside, hoping one of the boys would be able to help you with the rest. The door was unlocked, as they had been expecting you, and you walked right in. You entered the living room and found that master Bo Rai Cho was also visiting. He was sat plopped in front of his new favorite thing ever since you introduced him to it, the television. You set your bag on the floor and he took notice of you. "Y/N!" He got out of his chair, fast for a man his size, and strode over, pulling you into a tight hug. "It's good to see you again." You winced in his tight hug until he let go and you smiled at him. "It's good to see you too, Master Cho." He returned the smile and clapped you on the shoulder before walking to an open window. "Liu Kang, your friend has arrived!" He shouted.

It was only a few seconds until Liu Kang came bounding into the room from outside. You smiled at him and he walked over to pull you into a hug, he almost seemed relieved to see you. "It is good to see you again," he said, pulling away. You half smiled and nodded. "It's good to see you too, Liu. Um, you mind helping me unload my stuff?" He agreed without a second thought and walked out to your car with you. You stopped by your trunk and swallowed hard, your muscles tense and nervous. How were you going to tell Kung Lao? "Is Kung Lao here? Usually I'd see him," you commented. Liu grabbed a few of the heavier bags, lifting them with ease. "No, he is out running errands. He should be back in an hour." You sighed and hung your head, not knowing what to think of that. "Is something wrong?" You took a deep breath and looked over at the concerned young man. "Liu, I need to talk to you."

You both unloaded your car before walking down by the river, through the small flower garden they'd planted. You both took a seat on top of the retaining wall, separating the river from the land. "Now, what do you wish to speak to me about?" Liu sat with his legs criss-crossed, perfectly relaxed. You tried sitting the same way but ultimately just dangled your legs over the wall. "Um, I know I haven't visited in a while, and there's a reason for that.." you stared at the water, avoiding eye contact. Though you could see Liu out of the corner of your eye, looking at you with a worried expression. "That night I crashed on your couch...did Kung Lao ever tell you what happened?" You hesitantly looked over at Liu and his eyes fell to the dirt. "Yes, he told me the day after." You looked back at the ground and sighed, Liu reached over and placed his hand on your knee. "There is no need to be ashamed, you were inebriated. Your judgement was clouded, both of yours." You closed your eyes trying to will yourself not to cry. "There's more to it.." you figured you just had to say it and blinked away tears, looking over at Liu who had his head tilted in curiosity. "Liu, I'm pregnant."

His mouth slowly dropped open as his mind processed the information. His gaze dropped to the ground and his reaction just made you feel worse. "I know, I'm sorry," you said. He looked back up at you. "It is not your fault," he squeezed your knee reassuringly, "this is Kung Lao's business now, you need to tell him." You sniffled and a tear managed to escape down your cheek. "I know, when he gets back will you tell him I need to talk to him? Maybe, give him and I some privacy so we can talk it out?" Liu nodded and gave you a small smile, "of course." You could tell Liu was still trying to comprehend what you told him as you both walked back to the house and he helped you settle in. He tried to strike up normal conversation but it was awkward, you felt like an outsider. After a while you offered to clean the place to try and distract yourself and neither of the men objected.

Kung Lao was gone for longer than expected but eventually he came back, Liu took him aside while you unpacked the groceries. You saw them standing in the corner talking though you couldn’t hear their words. You stared for a second and could read Liu’s lips. ‘Talk to her’ he was saying. You tried to calm yourself down and at the same time psyche yourself up for what you had to eventually tell Kung Lao.

You had just finished putting everything away when Kung Lao approached you. “Liu Kang said you needed to speak to me, privately,” he said. His tone was curious this time, not as serious as he usually was. “Yeah, can we..” you trailed off as you motioned outside. He nodded and waved for you to go first. You walked back out to the same spot you and Liu had sat earlier, on the retaining wall by the river. Kung Lao took off his hat and set it next to him, he knew it was easier for you to talk to him without it ever since you said it was distracting and you were staring at it instead of him. He smirked at the memory and looked back at you, waiting for you to speak.

“What did Liu tell you I needed to talk to you about?” You asked, wondering how to start the conversation. “He just said you needed to talk and that it was important,” he answered bluntly. You nodded and fiddled with the ultrasound pictures in your hoodie pocket. You had worn it to hide the tiny bump that had started to form over the last couple days. “Um, about that night a few months ago-” “I’m sorry,” he interrupted, “I know I should not have gone that far. We were both not ourselves that night.” You smirked. “No, I’m not complaining, but there’s more to it..” you sighed. “I’m not sure how to tell you this but..” you could see him becoming worried. You took one of the photos out of your pocket and handed it to him. He looked confused but took the blurry image, trying to figure out what it was. “You got me pregnant.”

His eyes widened and he looked over at you. “I’m sorry,” you said with a sad look on your face. You weren’t sure what compelled you to say it but you felt like you had just ruined someone’s life. You watched him as he stared at the picture, nothing was clearly visible but it must have seemed convincing enough to him. You slipped the pregnancy test out of your pocket and showed it to him too. You heard him sigh and just kept silent, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts. “How far along are you?” he finally asked, his voice scarily cold. “A little over three months,” you answered. You bit your lip before asking a question you needed an answer to. “What are we going to do?” He handed you the test and picture back. “I don’t know.” He said. You were hurt, he had nothing else to say? Your moment was interrupted by Bo Rai Cho calling out that dinner was ready.

Kung Lao helped you up and you walked inside together, he was silent the entire time. You made eye contact with Liu for a split second as you took a seat at the table and his shoulders fell, your expression gave away your emotions. Bo Rai Cho set down the meal, a kind of special fish concoction he had come up with that you normally loved. This time though, it made your stomach turn. The second the aroma hit your nose, nausea hit you badly and you could practically feel the vomit rising in your throat. “I’m sorry, excuse me,” you said quickly before getting up and dashing to the bathroom. You had just enough time to brush your hair out of the way before you emptied your stomach into the toilet.

“What might be wrong with her?” Bo Rai Cho asked. “I didn’t mess it up again, did I?” Liu looked at Kung Lao, his expression urging the other monk to go check on you since this was his doing. But Kung Lao stayed put and just stared back at Liu Kang, his expression unwavering. You could still be heard throwing up in the bathroom down the hall. Liu finally got up and went to check on you. He grabbed a cup of water and a wet cloth to clean off your face. “Lao?” You asked out loud between dry heaving breaths. “No, it’s me,” Liu answered. He kneeled down next to you and rubbed your back until your body finally stopped it’s rejection. “Why didn’t he come?” you asked, sounding defeated. “He does not know how to, right now. He will learn soon," Liu tried to assure you. "He doesn't want any part of this, I know he doesn't," you admitted as you slumped into the corner. Liu handed you the glass of water and watched as you downed it all, thinking. "He will come around, I will talk to him."

You spent the rest of the night in the spare bedroom, hiding and crying. The realization that if Kung Lao didn't help, you'd basically be left alone to raise a child and that idea terrified you. You hoped Liu could talk some sense into him. You loved Kung Lao, only you didn't know how to tell him. The thought of him completely rejecting you because of this was heartbreaking, you wished there was a better solution or any solution at all. Bo Rai Cho felt bad that his cooking had made you sick and made up for it by making you some calming tea and getting you anything you wanted. But the thing you wanted most was Kung Lao back.

You barely slept that night and asked Liu if he could bring your breakfast to your room. You could smell how good it was from your room but you didn't want to get up, you just wanted to hide. Someone knocked on the door and you called out for them to come in. You expected it to be Liu Kang with your breakfast, but Kung Lao had brought it instead. You immediately looked away from him, all the shame and embarrassment coming back. "May I sit?" He asked. You shyly nodded and allowed him to sit on the edge of the bed and hand you your food. "I thought Liu was bringing me breakfast." You wondered out loud. "I wanted to," he said, "I need to apologize for yesterday. I reacted badly." You shrugged. "You reacted normally to shocking news," you replied, slowly starting to eat your food. Kung Lao looked at the floor as he thought about what to say. "I thought about it all last night and...I want to be a part of it. I'm not going to let you do this alone."

Your eyes locked with his and you could see the sincerity in them. You couldn't believe it, your eyes welled up with happy tears. "You're serious? You want to help me?" You questioned. A small smirk came to his face and he took one of your hands in his. "Yes. This is something that will affect us for the rest of our lives. I want to be a part of my child's life." You set your food aside and threw your arms around Kung Lao, hugging him. He was caught off guard but hugged you back. "We can do this," he whispered in your ear. "When is your next doctor appointment, I want to be there." You pulled away just enough to see his face. "Not for another month, are you sure?" He nodded. "I think it's about time I showed up to one," he said with a smirk.

~~~~

You met Kung Lao in the hospital lobby and checked in with him, finally glad to have him with you. It was a lot less embarrassing and anxiety inducing, despite the fact that most people were staring at his hat. He stayed by your side with one hand on the middle of your back protectively all the way up to the correct floor, where you had to check in again.

"I'm here for an ultrasound appointment," you said to the receptionist. "Alright," she said, glancing questionably at Kung Lao. You smirked to yourself, he was intimidating. Nobody would dare fuck with you while Kung Lao was at your side. "And who have you brought with you today?" The woman asked, looking again at Kung Lao. You opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it. "I'm her boyfriend, and the father," he answered. The woman nodded and went back to her computer. You turned your head to look at him, a huge smile coming to your face. Not wanting to give anything away, Kung Lao just looked at you and winked.

The receptionist got you checked in and you both sat down to wait for your name to be called. You leaned close to him and whispered. "Boyfriend, huh?" He smirked. "It was the only way I could think to tell you," he said, his tone of voice giving away his teasing. You giggled and rested your head on his shoulder, happy when he put his arm around you in return. Your name was called and you both walked back to an exam room. Kung Lao took off his hat and leaned it against the wall, the room was small and he didn't want to accidentally cut anyone.

The nurse took your vitals and asked you a few questions before leaving you and Kung Lao to wait for the doctor. "Can I see it?" You turned to look at him. "See what?" He uncrossed his arms. "The baby." "You will be able to see it on the ultrasound-" he shook his head, interrupting your sentence. "No, your stomach," he clarified. You understood now and laid back on the table, pulling your shirt up to expose your stomach. Now on month five, your bump was getting increasingly hard to hide.

"Can I touch?" He asked. You nodded with a smile, his curiosity and interest was adorable. Kung Lao placed his hand on your stomach and after a moment he began to rub it around. A sudden discomfort peaked in your stomach area and you looked at Kung Lao, who was as surprised as you. "Was that.." you put your hand on your stomach right next to his and after a couple seconds the discomforting, tiny jolt happened again. "It's kicking!" You beamed, “this is the first time I’ve ever felt it.” Kung Lao took your free hand in his, the look on his face seemed genuinely happy this time. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt,” he said. “Besides the night we made this happen, that is.” You let out an actual laugh, there was the Kung Lao you knew.

The doctor came in and set you all up for the ultrasound. Kung Lao waited impatiently by your side. “The gender should be visible if the baby cooperates, would you like to know?” The doctor asked. You exchanged looks with Kung Lao and came to a conclusion. “Yes, we would like to know,” Kung Lao answered. The doctor nodded and Kung Lao held your hand as the doctor moved the device around your gel covered stomach. The doctor let you both see the screen as they looked around, pointing out things and details that made no sense to you. As long as the baby was healthy that was all that mattered to you.

The doctor finally removed the device and handed you tissue to wipe off your skin. “Looks like he’s all good in there, just stick to what you’re doing and take it easy,” the doctor said. You smiled, “he?” You looked at Kung Lao who looked back at you with a smile. “We’re having a baby boy..” Kung Lao didn’t think, he just pulled you into a tight hug. He’d never been happier in his life. He was going to be a father to a little boy, one he could teach everything he knew, one he could get his own little hat. Everything would be perfect. He kissed your cheek. “I can’t wait to tell Liu Kang.”

#Mortal Kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #kung lao #kung lao x reader #mk11

150 notes · View notes