When you learn how to crochet/ knit or really any type of fiber arts, there will be a voice in your head that tells you that you should make something for everyone for the holidays.
I know I already posted these but they make me laugh so I'm doing it again. I decided to do my wip Wednesday/whenever now cause I want to be off social media until Friday....and tbh all weekend ahahaha (outside of writing challenge stuff)
So gonna tag uh @potatofantiger @master-of-the-elements @i-had-bucky @woundedsoul12 @gingervitus @chaosherald @littlemissgeek8 @propenseverbosity @zombiefishgirl @skulls-n-ivy @biowaredisasterbisexual @mageofquandrix @mythals-whore @serensama @juniper-and-dragonthorn @seaglassmelody
I shall offer you something from both my Techo and Davru fics under the cut
Techo WIP
“Today is a good day for someone else to die.” Mandalorian proverb.
“You got it pretty bad.” Her tongue clucked as she applied another kolto patch, one hand resting on his shoulder.
Mandalore’s Champion and Mako had gotten him to a safe camp. They’d built a fire. He’d been peeled out of his armor, shy as she tended his wounds. Not gentle but kind enough, hand on his forehead when he bucked. At last the pain eased back, enough for sleep to drag at him. She laid him out, tucked her pack under his head for a pillow. Brought him food. Or close enough to food. He was still trying to figure out why she hadn’t left him behind after he’d been stupid enough to point a gun at her. She settled near him, making sure he ate.
“Not often, a son wants to kill his father.” She said.
“That a question?” He took a bite.
She snorted. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
Torian glanced at her. She was watching him. Curious about him. Fair enough.
“He’s dar’manda.” Torian sliced his hand through the air. “Not my father. A traitor. Forgotten himself.”
The motion hurt but he needed her to see. Needed her to understand this. Didn’t know if she could. She mouthed out the word. Dar’manda. She wanted to learn he thought. Then she winced and he tried to sit up and she put a hand on his chest.
“He hurt you.” Torian insisted, looking her up and down, food forgotten.
Jilcoln. He clenched his jaw. He’d heard what he’d said to her. Every word. She chuckled at him, and he sensed that she was holding back for his sake. Bad enough she’d had to save him. Now she coddled him.
“Compared to what he did to you kid? It’s just a scratch.” She hadn’t moved her hand, and he was all too aware of it, a blaze on his skin. “You’ll undo all my hard work.”
It hurt but he grabbed her wrist gently, looking her in the eye. “Not a kid. And you’re injured.”
She seemed to reconsider him again, nodded, then added pressure gently. He took the hint. She reached for the kit and jabbed some kolto into her leg, arching a brow as she sat down. He snorted, letting himself relax as his eyelids grew heavy again.
“Why does it have to be you?” She said quietly.
He threw an arm over his eyes, wondering if he could explain. He pointed to his scars, mostly forgotten until he was reminded.
“This was done to me. So I’d never forget what Jilcoln did. What Clan Cadera did.”
He could hear the anger in her voice when she responded, surprised when he moved his arm and she was clenching her fists. “Who?”
“Cuy ogi’olar. You killed him already. Meant to thank you.” Torian offered, still puzzling out her reaction. (It’s irrelevant.)
She knew. “Tarro Blood.”
“We were kids. Glad to see him gone though. Lousy kotoya.” She laughed and he smiled, closing his eyes. “Not many of us left. I intend to die with my honor intact, and my Clan’s returned.” (Glory seeker)
She was quiet for a long moment. He started to sink under, and almost missed it when she spoke again. The Mando’a was slower, halting, but he liked hearing it.
“Ni akaanir ti gar. I’ve got your back.” (Then I fight with you.)
“Vor’ente Champion.” He murmured, unable to fight sleep any longer.
“I’ll stop calling you kid if you start calling me Echo.” She offered, but he was too far gone to answer.
Davru WIP
By the time he got back to the trailhead, he was shaking like a leaf and out of breath. He hadn’t felt this way since he was ten, and had trained every day of his life since never to feel it again. He cursed as his breath started to come back and he paced, trying to get a handle on himself as he clenched his hands. The worst part was, he couldn’t tell anyone. Neve was human, and the wards that protected the land would lash out at him if he broke the law. His family’s witch had seen to that, generations ago. But Davrin was only human, and alone until Uncle Eldrin came back for the winter. When he could finally breathe again he froze. He couldn’t let a rescue team go up there. He needed to stall. He unclipped the radio, trying to sound shaken rather than petrified.
“Neve? You read me?”
She sounded as relieved as he was to hear her voice. “I do.”
“He didn’t make it. A bear I think. I’m closing the trail.”
Another pause. “I’m sorry. You okay?”
No. “Yeah. We’re going to need to get the rangers up here.”
“I’ll head out. You don’t need to wait by yourself.” She meant it. He loved that about her.
“Have I told you lately how much I adore you? It’s alright. Stay put. I’ll radio you if there’s trouble.”
Static. “If you say so.”
“It’s alright. Over.”
He clicked off and waited. He started pacing again. He thought about calling Eldrin, but that felt like admitting he couldn’t protect the town on his own. That snapped him out of it. Davrin had never been a coward, and he wouldn’t let the wolves win. Not another death, not in his town. By the time the rangers came, he’d settled enough to lean against the hood of his truck, arms folded. A plan fell into place. When the wolves came back, he’d be ready.
2087
stormborns
yousharknotpass
annaxmalina
discoholicmusic
