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Ghost Fools
(aka, emmet bites the dust) read it on ao3! if you like this fic, please reblog it!
When Emmet opens his eyes, he almost forgets what happened. He’s back in his too-empty apartment, blinking at the sudden brightness of daylight. Have his eyes been closed for a while or something? And why is he in the living room, wasn’t he in the kitchen?
And then he hears the shouting.
“The nine button, Chandelure! THE NINE! IT’S RIGHT THERE!”
It’s a voice that Emmet hasn’t heard in a very long time.
His legs move on their own accord, not that he’s particularly against the location. It can’t be, it couldn’t be...
There, in the kitchen, is Ingo. Which would totally be a normal thing, if not for the fact that he went missing six years ago and has been dead for a lot longer than that. He’s clearly frantic, gripping onto his tattered hat in a panic as he points to the phone in Chandelure’s spindly arms.
“THERE IS NO WAY YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN OPERATE THE PHONE!” Ingo suddenly yanks his hat off, pulling anxiously at his own hair. “GO GET HAXORUS! OR SOMETHING!”
What’s even more shocking, surprisingly enough, is that the two of them are standing over Emmet’s body, face down on the kitchen floor.
Oh. Right. That happened.
“Ingo?”
“Not now, Emmet,” Ingo spares him a glance, but he does a double-take when the brunt of the situation finally hits him. “Wait. Emmet?!”
The most awkward of silences follows. The twins stare at each other, not quite believing what they’re seeing. Chandelure, clearly uncomfortable with the vibes, puts the phone back on the counter and floats out of the room.
“This is weird,” Ingo finally states.
“Oh, it’s weird?!” Emmet grabs Ingo’s shoulders, which is finally something he can do now. “Have you been following me the whole time?!”
Ingo avoids his brother’s deadly glare, instead finding the wall much more interesting. “Define the whole time.”
Emmet throws his arms in the air in defeat. “I can’t believe this. You were haunting me.”
“Hey, haunting is a strong word,” Ingo points at him, just like he used to whenever he got a lecture about running off. “I’d like to think we were just spending time together.”
“It’s not spending time together if I don’t know you’re there,” Emmet hisses, crossing his arms.
“Maybe, but at least I didn’t do that,” Ingo juts his thumb back over his shoulder, where Emmet’s dead body is still laying on the ground.
“Last I checked, you also died!” Emmet not-so-gently reminds him.
“Yeah, but I didn’t trip while making coffee,” Ingo scoffs. “This is pretty embarrassing for you.”
“Alright then, Mr. Perfect! How did you die, then?!”
Ingo suddenly loses his steam, awkwardly clearing his throat. “I, er… tripped. Off a cliff.”
“HAH!”
“SHUT UP!”
As Emmet’s laughter eventually dies down under the harshness of Ingo’s gaze, another strained silence fills the room. There’s been a pretty large shift to the dynamic of their apartment, characterized primarily by the fact that Emmet’s body is only growing colder. The two of them look at each other, hesitantly, perhaps looking for some solution to the pickle they’ve found themselves in.
At the very same time, both twins ask, “Now what?”
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20 questions for fic writers
Tagged by @the-real-azalea-scroggs! Had to wait until I was of my phone because doing these is a nightmare on mobile lmao
1. How many works do you have on A03?
18 as of a few days ago!
2. What's your total A03 word count?
157,937! Which is. Only a fraction of the word count in my Docs folder. Be prepared.
3. What fandoms do you write for?
I mainly write for The Legend of Zelda; specifically Linked Universe! In fact, that's all that's posted on my Ao3 currently, since my fall into that fandom began with me uploading there! Pre-Ao3 I wrote for Black Cat (Anime/Manga), Megaman NT Warrior, various Pokémon things, Assassin's Creed, Yugioh, Final Fantasy XIV and Octopath Traveler! Some of these I still write privately, but I haven't gotten around to re-posting any.
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
Whistling on Deaf Ears - My longest fic on Ao3, focusing on Wild and Twilight's friendship and how good intentions can lead to disaster.
Iconoclasm - Warriors deals with the room full of portraits in Cia's palace. The Chain also deals with it, but with a bit more fire.
Deserving - Twilight finally tells Rusl that he was the wolf in the village during TP, but that also means dealing with some heavier topics. Colin half overhears them and forms his own conclusions.
Something Greater - The start of the "Hyrule can see magical auras" series! In this one we deal with Legend and his many rings.
Ocean Magic - Mermaid Legend and Zora Time have a race and then fight one of the Big Octos from WW! Fun times.
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Every single one!! I love comments, they give me an excuse to ramble about my fic more!! I am always down to ramble about every single insignificant detail of any line and/or section. If you ever want more background info about one of my fics, look to the comments!
So please, I adore comments, I treat them like treasures, not responding to them would be a CRIME.
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
There's no contest; Inevitable, my (so far) only MCD fic.
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Hmmm, that's hard to quantify. I usually try to end fics on a hopeful note regardless. I'd say possibly either Deserving, where Twilight reconnects with his family, or Shimmering Blue, Striking White, where Time meets the Fierce Deity settled down on Satori Mountain and they both get closure.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Thankfully, no! I've been blessed with mostly amazing and patient readers, even when my upload schedule isn't the best.
9. Do you write smut?
No, not really. I've attempted it, but I'm too asexual for it lol
10. Do you write crossovers?
Very, very rarely. Mostly privately, and only very specific ones. Only a single one has had an actual plot, so far (more on that one in question 15!).
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Nope!
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Also a nope! I tend to write for smaller fandoms, where these things don't tend to happen a lot!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I have! But it's been a while. Over a decade, in fact! I tried to find the fic to link it here, but it was on the German fanfic website fanfiktion.de, and my friend who posted it back then must have deactivated her account, because it's nowhere to be seen (I still have the Word file though!). It was a Multi-Crossover that started as an RP in a forum, and we took turns turning the RP into prose one chapter each. "If a Hero Turns to Dark" was its title. We were edgy teenagers.
14. What's your all-time favourite ship?
Hissssss. Bad question. Shoo. They are all equally important!!
But it's probably TenRose from Doctor Who.
15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
One of the very few crossovers I've ever worked on; a crossover fic between Assassin's Creed and Doctor Who, that I have mapped out in both chronological and timeline order, and yes, those are different. I only ever wrote about a quarter of it, since my primary audience of it disappeared when we graduated. I doubt I'll ever pick it back up properly, and if I do it'll probably go through heavy rewrites first since it's so old. Finishing it is a nice thought, but realistically, after 9 years it'll never be high priority enough for it to actually happen.
16. What are your writing strengths?
Dialogue, especially arguments, and emotional impact. I've been told I do really well making characters feel alive and believable! Also I like to believe I'm decent at setting a scene and giving it the vibe I want it to have!
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
I struggle with dialogue tags when nothing much is happening besides the talking. I always feel it's too bland, and fall back on the same phrases. My scene transitions could use some work too.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I've done this with Japanese phrases, because I was a massive weeb. Usually I followed them up with their own translations, though; I'm not the biggest fan of footnote translations, unless they are properly linked to. Simple dialogue tags are my favourite way of indicating a language switch.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Black Cat the Manga/Anime! It's a series about an assassin turned bounty hunter trying to live a life separate from his murdery past, but getting dragged back into things by still wanting to avenge his best friend's death. The series has a special place in my heart and my bookshelf, it left an imprint on 13-year-old me that will never leave.
20. Favourite fic you've ever written?
Probably Jailbreak, uncharacteristically enough! It's one of the only fics I never got stuck in once. Writing it was a great feeling from start to finish. I love writing all of my fics, but that was a special few days.
Tagging @ahrva @nowhere-to-go-but-down @silvercaptain24 and @aeghina! And anyone who wants to do it, really, go wild
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lord-rain-master · 4 months
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watched hi nanna today and it was so good!
the female lead talking about not wanting to get married or have kids AND not being ridiculed for it was not smth i expected to watch in a telugu movie but it gave me exactly that!
my first favourite scene in the movie was the one where yashna breaks down after finding about their daughter's condition and she starts taking it out on viraj and he tries his best to hug her and they end up on the floor with him holding her down. i just loved everything about it! the acting was honestly amazing. mrunal did a fantastic job and even the way it was shot was just,,, beautiful
my second favourite scene was the one where viraj talks about having kids and yashna freaks out and they argue about it and viraj goes out the door saying he wished he never married her but immediately comes back in and hugs her and they make up
ALSO i love that the movie still has that lil bit of silliness that most telugu rom coms do!
i'm really not sure how i feel about the ending tho bc i didn't like it after finishing the movie bc i thought viraj deserved someone better than yashna?? hated that she blamed him for their daughter's condition but now that i think about it.... i feel like viraj should've been more understanding about her stance on kids so he shouldn't have brought up kids so suddenly in the first place and now i've finally come to the conclusion that it kinda makes sense lol
another favourite thing about the movie is yashna's character! she's a woman who's scared of getting married bc of her parents own broken marriage and doesn't want to have kids bc what if her marriage fails too? she doesn't want to put her kids through what she'd experienced and it's such a valid fear for someone like her. and sure, she gets over her fear of marriage bc of viraj but it's not easy for her to change the way she thinks about kids and so she tells viraj that she's worried that if they have kids and their marriage ends up failing, then it's gonna hit the kids the hardest and she doesn't want that which, again, makes so much sense for someone who grew up the way she did but viraj did not grow the way she did and so he hates that she thinks so pessimistically about their marriage and they have a fight about it
and after they end up having a daughter who's diagnosed at birth with a fatal pulmonary condition, yashna freaks out bc her worst fear has come true in a way she did not expect it to. she has to put her daughter through so much trouble but not bc of why she thought it would be that way
and and and the fact that the three of them don't together until after yashna gets better is amazing! might not work for everyone but it worked for them haha
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powerfultenderness · 1 year
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“Okay, well, you take this spot. Okay?” "You'll be burned alive!"
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echoing--stars · 4 months
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Hiiiii Woooooorm
So. Consider this. (I totally didn't get this idea from both me writing a kidnapping fic and you getting a kidnapping prompt for Link and Rowan) Link teaching Rowan some super basic but effective self-defense moves
this can be as fluffy or angsty as you want it to be, but personally I think they deserve a little awkward flirting mixed in between repetitions ;)
To make up for missing yesterday, this one got a little long!
Disclaimer - I do a poor job of explaining an actual self-defense move in this. I don't think anyone is going to try and do this after reading a snippet of a fanfic, but I still wanted to say that I did not explain it super accurately. I had a hard time finding a proper reference outside of the two second long video I have of me doing it at the one self defense class I've taken XD
And yes, it can work against someone much bigger and stronger than yourself!
It got long enough to put under a read more line and that I didn't want to bother with the indented formatting, apologies in advance
(If you read this and would like to request a short snippet, see this post!)
__
“Is this really necessary?”
Link looked up from where he was untying the laces on his boots. Rowan stood with his arms crossed, looking nervously around the empty training room. Link had ensured that they wouldn’t be bothered — it was the only way Rowan would have felt comfortable enough to come.
“I would feel more comfortable if I knew that you could defend yourself.”
Rowan sighed as his shoulders slumped. “We live in such a safe neighborhood though. There’s never been a problem at the bakery.”
The words were weak even to Link’s ears. It might be true that no one had ever broken into the bakery or otherwise threatened Rowan, but it had only been a few weeks since Link had been attacked on the street. The threat had been neutralized quickly with the help of a nearby guard and Link had only suffered a small cut on his arm. But after that, he couldn’t help but worry about what would happen if someone tried to go after Rowan.
“It’s always better to be prepared. The hope is that you’ll never have to use this but…”
“Just in case, I get it.”
This was a familiar conversation after the past few weeks, but Rowan had eventually relented. Link brought him to one of the buildings at the army base and led him to a room he knew wasn’t used that often.
The floor of the room was dirt and a crooked ring made up of a thick but ragged rope. There were a few benches around the ring for observers and various supplies along the walls.
Link finished removing his boots and socks and pulled off his tunic. No sense in getting it sweaty.
Rowan had followed his lead and removed his shoes and socks as well, but he kept his shirt on led. Link led him in a series of stretches to warm up and loosen their muscles.
Link walked Rowan through blocking and throwing a punch, how to disarm someone carrying a dagger, where to aim to stun someone.
“Remember, you don’t have to win, just buy enough time to get away or for someone else to come help.”
Rowan slowly gained confidence, at first not putting any strength behind his hits, too worried to hurt Link. Link encouraged and supported and poked at him in turn. Practice didn’t mean anything if you didn’t learn at full strength.
Rowan lashed out with a punch, and Link let it hit him. The impact stung. “That one actually hurt a bit!”
Rowan’s eyes widened and he took a step back, holding his hands up. “I’m sorry!”
“No, that’s a good thing! It means you’re getting more confident.”
Rowan did look convinced. “Okay, but it’s not like I’d have a chance against a skilled fighter. If we were actually fighting, I wouldn’t be any threat.”
Link sighed. There was some truth to that. Someone who’d — thankfully — never had to fight would have a hard time against someone who’d been fighting for years. “Remember, it’s not about winning, or knocking someone out. It’s about buying time.” Link tapped on his chin for a moment. “I have an idea. Turn around.”
Rowan hesitated for only a moment, but after Link gestured, he did as told. Link stepped forward until his chest was against Rowan’s back and reached up to wrap an arm around his throat. It was a bit awkward, considering that Rowan was a few inches taller than Link, but he was still able to hold his arm in place. He was careful not to put any actual pressure against Rowan’s throat, of course.
“What’s your first instinct if this happens?”
They were close enough that Link could feel Rowan’s chest rise and fall as he breathed.
“Grab your arm and try to pull it off?”
“Right, keep the pressure off your throat. Try.”
Rowan wrapped his hands around Link’s forearm. Link tensed his muscles, resisting Rowan’s pull. He put his other hand against Rowan’s shoulder. “Okay, the person is stronger than you, you can’t pull their arm off. In that case, make sure your feet are planted and stable. You’re going to lean forward, pulling me with you, and squat. As you stand back up, pop your hips back so your torso stays parallel to the ground. This should pull me onto your back.”
When Rowan didn’t move, Link nudged at his leg with his foot. “Come on, try. It helps if you move quickly.” Link wasn’t sure if that was true, but if it got Rowan moving, he would take it.
Finally, Rowan did as asked. His movements were a bit shaky, but he was able to pull Link onto his back. Link’s chin was at Rowan’s shoulder now, and Rowan’s hands were warm against his arm.
“Okay, this is where it gets fun. We’re going to do this again, but this time when you stand up from the squat, you’re going to lean your left shoulder — because I’m grabbing you with my left arm — towards the ground. Make sure you have a firm grip on my arm and use your grip to pull me forward. This will flip me over your shoulder so —”
“Link! I’m not throwing you over my shoulder!”
Rowan dropped his hands from Link’s arm and he slid off of Rowan’s back. Rowan spun around, eyes wide. “I don’t think I could even do that if I wanted to.”
Link took a step forward, holding a hand up in a placating gesture. “You can! Believe me, this is something that can work against attackers that are bigger and stronger than you.”
Rowan’s expression shifted and his lips twitched as he tried to hold back a smile. “You would know, right?”
Link snorted and rolled his eyes. “Calling me short, are you? How mature.” But he couldn’t hold back his own smile. Besides, he’d much rather have Rowan teasing him if it meant that he wasn’t worried about hurting Link while learning self-defense.
Rowan laughed. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.”
Link shook his head, still smiling. “Alright, fine. But I promise you will not hurt me. I’ve trained on both sides of this and know how to make myself land safely. The sandy floor helps too. And yes, this does work if the attacker is taller than you.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I am.”
“Let’s do this.”
Rowan turned around and Link wrapped his arm around Rowan’s throat again. He made sure that Rowan had a strong grip on his arm and then coached him through the movement again. They practiced this a few times until Rowan was confident enough to do the full move.
“Ready this time?” Link asked.
“As I’ll ever be.”
This time when Rowan squatted and then stood up, he yanked Link’s arm and tilted so Link rolled off his shoulder. He hit the ground back first, and his breath rushed out of his chest. Link blinked, and then Rowan was looking down at him, eyes wide with apparent panic.
“Are you okay? It seems like you hit the ground hard. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 
Link drew in a deep breath before moving to sit up. Rowan moved around him until he could reach out a hand.
“I’m fine! That was amazing, Rowan, I knew you could do it!” Link smiled and took Rowan’s outstretched hand. Rowan pulled him up so fast that Link nearly fell against Rowan’s chest.
Rowan laughed and wrapped his arms around Link, pulling him into a tight hug. “I was worried you hit your head or something for a second.”
“I’m fine. And besides, I’ve had worse during training and while working with recruits.”
“That is not reassuring.”
Link grinned and pulled back enough so that he could look up at Rowan. “I don’t know, I think I turned out okay.”
Rowan moved a hand to Link’s cheek. “More than okay, I’d say.”
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sasster · 1 year
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Wisdom
[Google Doc]
You know the song Words of the Wise by Truslow, don't you?
--
The Sailor
The night is cool, with an ocean breeze that rushes toward the dock and welcomes Zurven with a sweet, salty kiss. As far back as he remembers, the sea has always been a welcome escape. It carried his fears away on billowing waves, where they disappeared into a distant horizon, and he was allowed respite from his vanilla scented tomb. Even just for a second. That was the single perk to his time with Persep, a thought he will take to his grave whispers, access to Areios’s cliffside hive.
Before he has much time to think on and be upset by it, the dock creaks under the weight of someone walking behind him and he turns to meet their gaze. A troll that was at the same time familiar and entirely new to him fills his field of view. His hair was much shorter when he disappeared, cut tight in order to maintain a proper appearance just like any other pretentious violet blood might have it. Today, it casts down past his shoulders, in waves that resemble the ones he spends his nights navigating.
Shock overtakes the seadwellers features, but it is quickly replaced by a smile that accentuates the scars that pepper his face.
That’s another change, imperfections decorate the violet blood in a map that tells the story of where he has been. Of who he is now. A fractured horn and torn ear and fin. This is not the Velrum that disappeared all of those sweeps ago.
Zurven should be surprised, but he knew what to expect. Harlan’s intervention made sure of it. 
Velrum waves a three fingered hand as he comes closer, and he tries not to let his stare linger. But the gold band around the middle digit draws the eye with the way the twin moons shine off of it. The seadweller does not seem bothered.
“Zurven, is that you?” Even his voice doesn’t ring with the same uptight, strictness that it did in the past. Instead, it seems light. Free of burden. He comes to sit and lets one of his legs dangle over the sea below.
Though neither of their feet touch the water, Zurven cannot help but notice how much further his own is away from it.
“Wow, how long has it been?”
The smaller troll makes like he is looking at a watch that isn’t there and shrugs.
Velrum laughs.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m glad to see you..” He pauses to get a good look at him. “Out. Away from all of that.”
The sailor sounds unsure as he speaks, each of the six words enunciated slowly. Worry almost creases his brow.
A quick nod assuages his fear and he lets out a quick sigh.
“Good. It was a fucked up situation.”
“No kidding.” Zurven sighs. “How did you do it?”
“Hm?”
“Move on from everything.”
Velrum seems taken aback by the question. Anyone who knows anything about Zurven would guess that he would sooner swallow his tongue than choose to speak about this for longer than necessary. Even someone who hasn’t seen the brown blood since he was six sweeps old.
The seadweller runs a hand through his hair, knocking it so it cascades down along his back instead of over his shoulder. It frames his face in a way that makes him look much older than he is.
“Zurven,” he starts, moving to take one of his hands between both of his. The metal of his jewelry feels cool against the smaller troll’s skin. “Time is a weird thing.”
Zurven's laugh is breathless.
“Tell me about it.”
The response he receives is a squeeze, one designed to keep him grounded.
“Time and space are a wonderful tool. They will not heal all of your wounds. They can only provide you with the chance to come to terms with them.”
“That’s what people say. All the time, it’s what they say.”
“It’s hard as hell, Zurv.”
“Doable?”
“I didn’t say impossible, kid.”
Zurven swallows his uncertainty, not really sure what he was expecting to hear in the first place.
The Soldier
Koteus is much easier to track down, despite the claims that he is all but a hermit now. The seadweller lived in the same hive, surrounded by dense forest and an expansive lake from the time he was discharged from the fleet. What is surprising, however, is the sprawling garden that hugs around a considerable length of the hive, and the lively sheet moss that grows up the wall that the hive shares with the garden.
It is a sight to behold.
Certainly not one anyone would expect a so-called shut in to keep up with. Zurven sucks in a deep breath, admiring the warmth of the garden as it brings him to life.
“Hey kid, y’lost or somethin’?” Calls out a yellow blood from the front door, he waves a robotic hand in the air to get his attention.
The brown blood blinks back at him, kicking himself internally for neglecting to account for hivemates when setting out for this trip.
“I’m just here to see Koteus.” He finally says, when the silence blankets them the same way the moss did the residence. “It’s been a while.”
“‘Course you are,” The stranger starts, then pauses to look at a display on his arm. Finally, he motions for him to follow him as he moves back into the hive. “C’mon.”
Zurven nods and toddles along after him.
The yellow blood leads him through a front room and a living room first, where he takes in all the sights the home has to offer. The most important thing he could note was that there were family pictures littered throughout the two rooms. All sorts of faces smiled back at him, with each other, as the pair made their way into a kitchen much larger than he would know what to do with.
“Little man!” A familiar voice calls out and draws his attention to an island at its center.
Standing there beside it is Koteus, a bright smile on his face and a curtain of dreads that threaten to kiss the floor despite much of it being tied up into a bun. The tattoo on his face obscures much of his expression, but it is easy to tell he is happy.
“Little is right.” The cyborg emphasizes as he exits the way they entered.
Zurven can’t find it in him to be offended by the sentiment, he is easily the shortest person in the room. Aside from the very small human that sits on the counter, handing Koteus bowls of varying sizes with great enthusiasm.
She uses a free hand to wave at him.
“Jessie, Zurven. Zurven, Jessie.”
“Hi!” Jessie beams, pointing at Zurven and then her own chest. “Your sign?”
“Horologium.” He says pulling the hoodie he’d stolen from his partner tighter around his shoulders, suddenly incredibly self conscious. “It’s a clock.”
“Har-go-lum!” Jessie shouts as she clasps her hands together before getting back to her very serious job of handing the violet blood her bowls. 
“Hawr-uh-lo-jee-um.” He says, slowly this time.
She nods with vigor and goes on to mouth the word Horologium to herself, going through the motions of learning a new difficult word.
He is momentarily taken back to a time when the name of his own sign was foreign to him. Five sweeps old when he learned what to call it, how to pronounce it. Thuein and Lopard were patient, but the pity they felt reigned in their eyes.
A human will learn how to say it better before she hits three sweeps.
Dwelling doesn’t last long, Koteus’s voice fills the room again and brings him back from his thoughts.
“Had I known you wanted to meet, I could have met you somewhere more convenient.” His voice is apologetic. “Middle of nowhere is a little out of the way, yeah?”
“I think I needed the trip.” He admits.
“Clear skies’ll cure a cluttered mind like nothing else.” The seadweller says as he lifts the young human off of the counter and sets her on her feet.  “Something on your mind?”
“I think so. If you have time.”
Koteus watches as Jessie quickly finds her way to the entrance of the kitchen and disappears further into the hive. He smiles.
“A spot just opened up.”
Despite his time in the fleet, Koteus’s scars are not physical ones. The only markings on his skin are the tattoos he received from the planet he was stationed on. But the scars on his heart, Zurven thinks, must be innumerable. Impossible to count. Heavy.
He leads Zurven to the table and they sit across from each other.
Koteus looks wiser than he would ever care to admit. Always said wisdom means you’re old.
“Lay it on me, little man.”
“You’ve uh. You’ve been through a lot, right?”
“Nothing I didn’t sign up for.” He sighs. “But yeah.”
“Doesn’t it weigh a ton? How do you–”
“Carry it all?” He interjects, voice soft.
Zurven nods slowly.
The soldier leans forward, causing the beads clinging to his dreads to knock against the table between them.
“Not all at once, and never on my own.” He whispers, and the safety of Benjins hoodie starts to feel more real.
The Magician
There is a market in the city, filled with fresh produce from the grounds of the House of Restoration and other goods ferried from parts of Alternia the typical city dweller would never find the time to visit.
Zurven stands among the produce, fighting hard to remember the instructions given to him by Achina on how to pick out the perfect avocado. He is fairly certain the one in his hand is hard enough to give someone a concussion.
“Nah, brother. You try ‘n eat somethin’ that unripe it’ll knock your teeth right outta your skull.”
Zurvens gaze drifts from the rock in his hand to the observer he must have been preventing from getting one of his own.
“Think ya’ gotta put it in a paper bag to make it ripe faster or somethin’. Unless you’re tryin’a--“
The purple blood stops cold as they lock eyes, the recognition on either side is instantaneous. The swirly face paint that starts at the tip of his nose and spirals outward takes Zurven back to a place he doesn’t want to be and he gives the avocado a harsh squeeze. Hard as a baseball, it does not yield to his attempted mutilation.
“Shit! Little fuckin’, Curly top? Zurven? Damn! You grown up, huh?” The clown sputters out clumsily, measuring Zurven up with his hand as he does.
“Didn’t see you none once the. Well, y’know.” He says as he mimes a hand over his left eye, mimicking the trauma Persep subjected his illusionist friend to. “And you’re all out and about and shit, huh?”
“It’s nice to see you too, Parcae.” Zurven mumbles, resisting the urge that threatens to pull his thoughts back to the past. “You’re always so peppy, despite everything. That’s a real wonder to me-- “
The brown blood is cut off by the magician as he scoops him up into his arms and crushes him close against his chest.
Zurven goes stiff.
“Nah, we ain’t talkin’ about me. We’re talking about you!” He does not seem to care that the display is causing his suit jacket to wrinkle. Not that that really comes as a surprise. “Been thinkin’ about you, brother. Always wanted to scoop y’up like that and let ya know how you were always stronger than you shoulda had to be and shit.”
He says nothing.
“Y’know? I’m thinkin’ you’re one a the strongest guys I ever met. I’m thinkin’ you could survive anything, brother.”
Like the avocado in his hand will in a few days, Zurven softens. He wraps his arms around Parcae and breathes out a shaky sight as his tears start to stain the collar of his dress shirt.
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ravenous-rage · 5 months
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i have a mcga fic idea and i'm posing this question
note: this would be my FIRST EVER FIC. there's a high chance i might not even write it bc i have a lot of stuff to do. i am using this poll as a suggestion, not as a set rule to follow.
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pastballads · 1 month
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Quick & Easy Plotting. | Accepting. | @dethalamh
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My muse(s): Dustin
Do I know your muse(s): yes | no | a little | tell me about your muse
Setting: our verse | my verse | your verse | modern | alternate universe | other (could work with it regardless of verse)
Pre-established relationships? yes | no | depends on the relationship
Possible relationships: friends | classmate | co-worker | roommate | family, real or adopted | dating or blind date | married | friends with benefits | unrequited love | lending a hand | teacher - student | rivals | allies | partner-in-crime | enemies | protector - guarded | business partners | spy - infiltrated | manipulator - manipulated | star-crossed | first meeting | other 
I’m in the mood for: fluff | angst | horror | romance | humor | crime | hurt / comfort | action | supernatural | slice of life | crack | dark threads | light threads | any genre | multi-para | shorter para | one-line | any length | plotted threads | unplotted threads | other
Feel free to: message me ooc | message me ic | tell me your ideas | write a starter | answer one of my opens | send a meme | reblog this with your preferences - let’s find common interests!
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ravyncursing · 7 months
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today is one of those days where i miss writing so damn much. i don't think i've actually been in a slump this bad in so long and i think it's... getting to me. i miss the creative process with friends, and read back fondly on some of my favorite threads.
writing and roleplaying with others actually gave me a better sense of english than any of my tutors gave me.
i just... miss it man.
it always gave me something to talk about with friends that, now that that's.... gone. i feel like i'm just an annoyance when i speak with others.
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magical-girl-04 · 5 months
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The way the first fic I'm writing in literally years is a crossover between two things that I have not actually watched-
I read characters watch their movie/show fics for them tho so like, I feel like that counts-
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kurogane-redfox · 7 months
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It had been days since the Last time he heard from Ravyn; Lily would live him a letter.
Dearest,
I wish I could have said this in person. But I fear that my own lips couldn't say this outload. This is harder knowing that I will be gone for some time now and I can't disclose were I will be next. When all I can think about is how your lips belong on mine. Gods, you should be mine and mine alone. But that's selfish of me to wish. TO hope that you would wake up one day and want to be the one at my side for the rest of our lives. The way you look at me when we see each other breaks my heart knowing that you only feel for me in the way of a friend. Someone close to you that you can share a moment with. A kiss with but those kisses mean more to me. Those nights sneaking away with the intent of being close under the sheets, they are memories I hope to keep but this will be the last time you hear from me if I can help myself.
I have been in love with you for a long time. Our last little fight made this harder to do. All I ever want to do is to come back to you. To join your guild and continue to be your partner in all things. But this is becoming harder to face. You are becoming harder to face you.
I love you
I adore you.
You make everything better. I'm safe with you but my heart can't take not knowing where we are going anymore. This will hurt me every day. I will regret this moment for the rest of my life but you are safer when I'm away.. and you deserve to find your forever person.
Farewell, please take care of yourself.
With love ( & yours forever),
Ravyn Hollows.
P.S. I didn't tell Lily where I was going either. So don't bother.
Random Shit @ironshadcw
His eyes read through the letter, his expression changing from the smile he'd had on moments before to anger, and then finally sadness. He could feel the tears stinging at the corners of his eyes and before long they'd begin falling. Some of them hit the paper, causing it to grow wet. He'd grip it in a hand before angerly shoving it into a box. Before Lily could even say anything to the Dragon, the man was gone. Leaving in his wake the sound of cloth tearing, and the scent of blood.
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He'd even foregone pulling his coat or boots on, because he'd been home. He'd known he'd fucked up when he confessed to her. She'd thought he'd been joking but he'd been serious. Which was SOMETHING Lily had tried to tell her. That the Dragon did, indeed feel for her. He wasn't someone who would just fool around. He picked on her because that was how he showed affection.
Lily would send her device a message saying simply 'He took the message as expected but I do not know where he went.'
Meanwhile, the Dragon would be fully transformed, an ANGRY cry of pain emanating from him. Anyone nearby would probably get a chill from the sheer anguish heard in the Dragon's sound.
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Lily would send her a second message letting her know 'He is finding himself now so do not worry about him seeking you out at this moment. I am not sure he would recognize you in his state.'
He was in so much PAIN. Not only from the transformation but from the fact that he felt his heart breaking. He'd been genuinely in love with her and he'd TRIED to tell her. He'd tried but she'd not believed him and they'd fought. The only way he'd be able to return to himself at some point after getting all the anger out of his system would likely be locking his heart again.
He didn't want to face the pain of LOSS again.
--
Hours would pass, maybe even a day as he flew around aimlessly just trying to calm down. Eventually he'd grow fatigued from the transformation and crash into the ground. He'd be bleeding pretty heavily but not enough to be in danger of dying, when Lily found him and brought his limp body back to the house to clean and patch him up.
Lily would then send Ravyn one more message. 'I found him. He is back home now recovering. Stay safe. I will contact you later.'
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End of the Line - Chapter 9
[first] - [previous] - [next] read it on ao3! if you like the fic, please relog it!
Chapter 9: Sick Day Emmet catches a cold, and a friend comes by to help out. (content warning for a panic attack)
The next day Emmet takes off is the day he wakes up with a fever. He feels a little embarrassed to have to call out of work just a week after returning from his leave, but Galvantula hisses and screeches if he even steps near the front door. Chandelure gently guides him back to bed, probably at Ingo’s request.
Emmet drifts off again as soon as his head hits the pillow, but he barely spends any time asleep before he’s woken up by a loud Crash! from the kitchen. Forgetting that he’s sick enough to cough his lungs up, Emmet jumps out of bed and darts for the scene of the crime.
Noodles and broth are splattered everywhere, from the cabinets, to the floor, to even the ceiling! The mess seems to originate from a single can on the counter, which looks like it’s been run over by a train. Durant seems happy enough to clean up on its own, happily lapping the nasty remains of the soup.
One of the stove burners is on, but there isn’t anything placed on top of it. That was probably Chandelure’s job, given the fact that it drops the pot it was lifting to hover over a seemingly empty spot in the middle of the room.
Emmet has to stop for a moment to take it all in. Right. Spooky ghost brother shit. He can handle this.
“Stop that,” Emmet nudges Durant with his foot. His voice sounds rough, like Ingo used to at the end of a long day. “Go get Garbodor to clean up.”
Durant chitters in disappointment before sulking out of the kitchen.
Well, Emmet just put out the smallest fire first. Now for the literal inferno.
Careful not to step in any of the bits of soup, Emmet crouches down next to the spot where he thinks his brother is sitting. If the state of the kitchen is any indication, he is not in a good mood.
“Ingo?” Emmet coughs into his elbow. “Are you alright?”
Despite Emmet’s good intentions, his words offer no comfort to his brother. In fact, they have the exact opposite effect. The lights in the kitchen suddenly start flickering on and off, the cabinets swing open and Slam! shut, and Emmet realizes that he’s way out of his depth.
His first reaction is to squeeze his eyes shut, block out the lights and the sounds. This has got to be the craziest situation he’s ever found himself in. It’s straight out of a horror movie! Since when could he even do this, anyway?! Emmet did not sign up for a haunting, even if it’s-!
Even if it’s Ingo.
However, the fact that it is Ingo certainly changes things, doesn’t it?
“Ingo, it’s- it is okay!” Emmet stammers out. It’s all he can do, but damn it, it’s practically useless! How is he supposed to take care of Ingo like this?!
Maybe it’s just his imagination, but between the flashing of the lights, Emmet swears he sees a figure sitting in front of him. His knees are drawn to his chest, the same way Ingo used to hold himself and cry when he was a kid after throwing a tantrum. Man, the way he would scream when they tried to make him wear a dress…
Emmet would sit right by his side, holding his hand until he inevitably calmed down.
So that’s what he does again. Emmet reaches out and grabs Ingo’s hand, and his heart almost stops when his brother squeezes it back.
Ingo’s hand is cold.
As quickly as it started, the chaos stops. The lights finally go out, and the cabinets stop flailing open and shut. The pressure on Emmet’s hand disappears, mere seconds after he finally found it again.
“Ingo?” Emmet croaks out. Between his cold and whatever just happened, his throat feels even more raw than it did before.
The kitchen is silent, which is a cruel irony. “Ingo” and “quiet” are two words that never went together, at least not until recently. He filled all of the emptiness in their lives, talked and talked for hours when Emmet couldn’t even get a word out. And now…
Even though he’s back, Emmet still hasn’t heard his brother’s voice since he left all those years ago. He’s starting to forget it.
Chandelure gently pats the empty space before floating off. Emmet almost thinks that Ingo just abandoned him, until the Pokémon returns with the journal and pen they received from Shauntal.
It’s really only been a week since she came onto the Battle Subway, hasn’t it?
Emmet takes the journal from Chandelure, only because if he didn’t, it would place it directly into the splattered soup. He carefully leaves it open on the floor in front of Ingo. After a moment, the pen moves from Chandelure’s telekinesis.
Sorry. I’m OK.
“Don’t apologize,” Emmet insists. “What was that?”
Wanted to take care. Couldn’t pick up. Got mad, can went everywhere. Panic attack?
Ingo writes it like a question, and Emmet can almost remember the way his brother sounded when he was uncertain.
“Well, uh-” Emmet finds himself faltering yet again. He’s not good at comforting people with his words, and just wishes that he could hug Ingo so he’d know everything he’s trying to say. “You’re feeling better?”
Yes.
Emmet nods. Ugh, he can already feel a headache coming on, he definitely needs to lay back down soon. “So. It appears you have powers beyond breaking our TV.”
It seems so.
“However, you are having difficulty conducting your abilities,” Emmet reasons. “We will work on that, too.”
Not mad?
“You exploded a can of soup,” Emmet grins, just the tiniest bit excited by the prospect. “That is verrrrry cool! I want to know what else you can do.”
Thank you. Ingo’s handwriting is shakier than usual, which means it’s time to give him a break. With everything that’s happened this morning, he deserves some time to decompress.
“Let’s watch another movie?” Emmet suggests. They’ve been slowly making their way through their own personal collection after work, when Emmet is tired and Ingo is bored. It’s actually been interesting to reunite Ingo with his favorite films, if only to see him freak out afterwards about how they’re the best things he’s ever watched.
Before Ingo has a chance to respond, the front door slams open.
“EMMET!” Elesa’s voice easily travels from the front door to the kitchen. Emmet swears internally. What’s she doing here?!
Galvantula, the traitor that it is, leads Elesa into the kitchen. She gasps in horror, and Emmet remembers that usually people don’t cause this much of a mess when they try to cook.
“Emmet, what did you do?!”
Oh. Oh no.
Ingo is very—or as Emmet would say, verrrrrry—uncomfortable with the situation in their apartment right now. Elesa has managed to wrangle Emmet to the couch, despite his protests that he feels fine. He ends up pouting on the couch, tucked into the blanket that Elesa stole from his bed. In the back of his mind, Ingo can remember making the remark that there’s no way to say no to Elesa.
Emmet at least managed to keep the journal away from her, clutching it to his chest even now. Neither of them are prepared for her to find out just yet.
As of late, Ingo has been trying to figure out how to sit on furniture. He doesn’t pass through the floor, and he can handle stairs and elevators just fine. There’s got to be some secret to tangibility that he’s missing. Of course, he can’t really practice with Emmet hogging the couch, so he sits on the floor beside him.
Emmet fiddles with his Xtransceiver, which Ingo has given up on trying to figure out for now. Movies are one thing, but this ArcPhone-like device is something else. He places it on the coffee table, eyes trained on the open screen.
He seems to have some sort of writing app open, with the message Are you still there? typed out.
Chandelure nuzzles into Ingo’s side, a bit of that cold energy settling in his chest. It’s a strange feeling, especially since he hates the cold, but it at least causes that numb buzz to fade away.
Ingo pokes at the Xtransceiver, and the screen glitches the tiniest bit.
“Good.” Emmet pulls the blanket up, finally resigning himself to staying on the couch. It looks comfortable, even if Eelektross and Archeops are currently pinning him down. “I like knowing you’re here.”
Well, there goes Ingo’s plan to hole himself up in his room until Elesa leaves. At least there’s something he can do to help Emmet feel better.
Ingo stares at his right hand, flexing his fingers in an attempt to find that warm feeling again. Did he imagine it, or did Emmet actually manage to hold his hand? It was brief, gone as soon as it came, but its familiarity yanked Ingo out of his spiral. The gesture is rooted deep in his mind, but he’s not exactly sure when the seed was planted.
“Luckily, that wasn’t your last can of soup.” Elesa enters from the kitchen, holding a steaming bowl in her hands. “Sit up, you need to eat today.”
“Elesa braved the kitchen just for me.” Emmet grins as she hands him the soup. He tries to lean his head on her shoulder when she sits down next to him, only to be forcibly shrugged off.
“You look like a Cubchoo right now,” Elesa complains. “I do not want to catch anything from you.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“Now Emmet, Elesa took time out of her day to take care of you,” Ingo launches into a lecture. “The least you could do-”
“Because you’re sick, you Bidoof!” Elesa pokes Emmet’s forehead, cutting off Ingo’s speech on the importance of appreciating your friends.
Ingo closes his mouth, letting the words die on his tongue. Being ignored in this context is logical, at the very least. Elesa wouldn’t know he was speaking; she doesn’t even know he’s here right now! She probably hasn’t even thought about him for a while. It’s not like he’s been around to remind her.
“How did you know I was sick?” Emmet asks, slumping away from Elesa after being so coldly rejected.
Elesa's smile turns devious. “I have an inside source, darling. Now, do you need anything else? You haven’t had a sick day since you collapsed at the station last year.”
Sorry, Emmet did what? Ingo immediately abandons his wallowing, because what the hell, Emmet?
“Elesa!” Emmet shouts, his face flushing even more than it had been before. “There are people here who did not need to know that!”
“Oh, please,” Elesa rolls her eyes. “We all know.”
Emmet mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like, “Not all of us.” Ingo stifles a laugh at his poor, idiot brother.
The two of them continue their bantering, and so Ingo leans his head against Chandelure and closes his eyes. Strangely enough, this is… nice. Nostalgic, even.
He might as well make the most of it.
Emmet eventually ends up falling asleep again, but only after he took some cold medicine that seemed disgusting. The TV is currently playing an overdramatized nature show, something about giant river Pokémon, and Ingo is simultaneously unable to look away and bored out of his mind. Since when did he care so much about fishing?
Elesa is sitting on the floor beside Ingo, only because Emmet is sprawled out over the entire couch. Out of curiosity, he peers over her shoulder, only to see she’s searching for methods to reduce fevers on her Xtransceiver.
Oh! Oh right! Fevers! Ingo forgot that was a part of being sick. Darn, he really would have been useless if he’d tried to take care of Emmet on his own, wouldn’t he? It’s probably for the best that Elesa came over.
It’s frustrating, to say the least. On one hand, Ingo is glad that someone who’s capable is here to shoulder the burden. It’s not like he could force Emmet to take his medicine the way Elesa had, after all. But on the other hand, he wishes he could do more. Emmet is his brother, and he would do the most to make sure Ingo recovered if he was the one who was sick. Some part of Ingo’s memory reminds him that he has done the most, several times in fact.
Maybe…
Ingo rests his hand on Emmet’s forehead, doing his best not to phase through him. He knows he gives people the chills by now, but surely this is enough to cool him down. Right?
In his sleep, Emmet’s smile grows just the slightest bit wider. Ingo thinks that means he’s doing a good job.
For a brief moment, everything is peaceful. Ingo is actually helping Emmet, not the other way around! It feels amazing to be able to make a difference like this again, even if it’s something small. Maybe he could figure out what happened in the kitchen and use those powers? It’d take a lot of work, but if it’s for Emmet, then-
Elesa stands and as she passes by Emmet, she gently takes the journal from his hands.
Oh no no no, that’s not good at all! Ingo trails after her, panic seeping into each step that he takes. What is she doing?! Hasn’t she ever heard of privacy before?!
Archeops quietly squawks in protest, though he’s currently trapped in between Emmet and the back of the couch.
“Sssh.” Elesa holds a finger up to her mouth. “I’m just putting this on the coffee table. It can’t be comfortable to hold like that.”
Oh. Ingo sighs in relief, his shoulders dropping. Archeops grumbles something as well, settling back in next to Emmet. Okay, yeah, that makes sense. Elesa is a good friend, after all, she wouldn’t blatantly disrespect Emmet like that.
“But this can’t be Emmet’s journal, right?” Elesa reasons, and Ingo’s stomach drops again. She turns the book over in her hands. “He’s never been one to write down his feelings. So what is this, exactly?”
And then, without even waiting for an answer, Elesa opens the journal. Her face drops the second she does.
She must recognize the handwriting. She has to. Emmet says they’ve been friends for years, there’s no way she doesn’t know.
What Ingo does next is not something he thinks too heavily about. He grabs the pen from the coffee table and throws it right at Elesa. It makes contact right on the bridge of her nose.
“Ow! You-!” The pen clatters to the ground beneath Elesa, and brings a hand to the stinging red spot on her face. Her angry scowl is replaced by wide-eyed confusion the second that she notices that the spot the pen came from is empty. Not that Ingo would call it empty, but he gets how it looks to her.
“What is going on here? Is this place haunted?!” Elesa wonders aloud. Thankfully, Emmet is capable of sleeping through a train crash, and so he remains blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding around him.
Elesa looks back at the journal, still cracked open in her hands. It’s obvious what she’s thinking, flipping through the pages faster than she could be reading them. Besides, with the tears welling up in her eyes, she probably isn’t seeing much anyway.
Know. Remember.
I missed you.
I didn’t mean to.
I never thought it would happen like this.
I won’t leave you again.
-Ingo
“What is this?” Elesa swallows back a sob, her mascara already beginning to smear. “You can’t- you can’t be…”
Ingo decides that he might as well. He’s already blown his cover. He picks the pen up off the ground and reaches past Elesa to the next empty page. She gasps as he does so.
Hi Elesa.
“Ingo?” Elesa tentatively asks, her voice shaking as if the word itself is sacrilege.
Yes.
And even though she’s crying, mascara running down her cheeks like rain on a window, Elesa laughs. For some reason, though, it feels like she doesn’t find this situation very funny. “You have got to be ele-kidding me right now.”
Emmet wakes up to the sound of excited chattering, which is confusing enough on its own. Blearily, he sits up on the couch, which immediately launches him into another coughing fit. When he finally manages to calm his breathing, he sees Elesa sitting beside the coffee table, with the journal open in front of her.
“Uh, Elesa!” Emmet panics. Shit, how much did she read?! “What are you-”
“Emmet, did you know your brother is really good at drawing Tangelas?” Elesa asks, as if that’s a normal question to ask about a dead guy. “He’s seriously talented.”
Emmet blinks. His eyes finally land on the pen, moving on its own in swirling patterns. It takes a moment for his mouth to catch up with his brain.
“What?”
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A small piece of my fic for @2023legendoflinkzine! I had a blast working with everyone involved, and I highly recommend giving the other previews a shot if you're a fan of the franchise as a whole!
All profits go to Doctors Without Borders!
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ladysongmaster · 2 years
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Yaypril - Day 26
Title: Aay’han (Remembrance and Celebration) - AO3 Prompt: spending time together Words: 483 Characters: Fox Naasade, Jango Fett, Rav Bralor, Kal Skirata, Mij Gilamar| Warnings: light angst Summary: Fox spends a night playing cards with his new vode.
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“I’ve been meaning to ask, Fox,” Rav said as she dealt a fresh hand to those sitting at the table. “How are you so good with the cadets? I don’t imagine bounty hunters have much time to train young verde. Especially not a single young man like yourself.”
 Fox looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
 “Somebody’s got to flirt with you, or you’ll start to take yourself too seriously. And I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Rav winked at him.
 They were all seated around a table in his apartment, playing sabacc and drinking. It was becoming a weekly ritual. They’d usually switch up who’s apartment they’d end up at, and sometimes they had dinner too. Fox had mixed feelings about it.
 “If you two are done, can we get back to the game?” Kal grumbled.
He looked at his cards the tossed a credit chip into the pot. Mij and Jango anteed up as well. Fox tapped his credit chip on the table as he considered his cards, and his response to Rav. He tossed the credit into the pile.
 “I wasn’t always a bounty hunter,” he said. “I grew up with younger brothers.”
 “Big family?” Mij asked.
 Fox shot the al’baar’ur a glare. He’d told Mij a different story than he’d told most everyone else on Kamino. A story closer to the truth. Mostly because the al’baar’ur would have noticed anomalies in his genetics anyway during checkups, and Fox needed as much help as he could get to stay off the kaminiise radar.
 “Big enough,” Fox said.
 “Why am I only hearing about your brothers now?” Jango asked. “Are they going to miss you?”
 “No,” Fox said, his throat tight. “They’re all gone.”
 There had still been millions of clones alive when Vader had snapped Fox’s neck, but with the chips active in their heads, they were as good as dead. No longer the people they’d been.
 Rav reached out and placed her hand on his arm.
 “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la,” Jango, Kal, Rav, and Mij said in unison, then lifted their glasses and drank.
 “Ni partayli, gar darasuum.” Eyes burning, Fox lifted his glass and sipped.
 They all sat quietly for a moment, then Rav nudged Kal. “Hit, or stay?”
 Kal looked at his cards again. “Hit.” He studied his hand with the new card. “Stay.”
 “Stay,” Mij said.
 “I had a sister,” Jango said, as he studied his cards. “Arla. She disappeared when kyr’tsad attacked my home.”
 “Are you really going to keep bringing the mood down?” Kal asked.
 “Said like a true only child,” Mij murmured.
 Fox’s lips quirked up. “You have vode, Rav?” he asked.
 “Just the ones in this room,” she said, raising her glass and drinking again.
 “Here, here,” Kal said, pounding the table with a fist.
 Jango bumped Fox’s shoulder with his own and grinned at him when Fox looked over.
 “Oya,” Fox said, smiling.
 **********
 This fic was inspired, in part, by a comment from Limero on AO3. Thank you!
 Mando’a: Verde - warriors Al’baar’ur - doctor Kaminiise - Kaminoans Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la - Not gone, merely marching far away. Ni partayli, gar darasuum - I remember you, so you are eternal. Kyr’tsad - Death Watch Vode - siblings Oya - declaration of positivity and triumph
Taglist: @ladykatakuri @sugarpuffsstuff @quietplaceinthestars @littledragonlady
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powerfultenderness · 1 year
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angry-trashcan · 9 months
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I know I'm a few days late on putting out Hair. My brain hasn't been working right for writing. I'll try my best to get it out tonight!
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