people keep coming into the ping pong society and calling us the table tennis society. i hate tennis. i play ping pong. we welcome literally everyone. we have one rule. you can say table tennis about yourself all you wanntt but we're the ping pong society. pin. pong. ping. the sound the ball makes. pong. smacks.
uh. thank you? goodbye. it's ping pong
Complaint: People calling the Ping Pong Society the Table Tennis Society
By: Anonymous
Location: the Ping Pong Society
Logged: Yes
Resolved: Yes
Notes: Sent a note to every single resident of Midnight Alley that simply says "it's ping pong"
HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT FOR YOU. HATE. HATE.
Submitted by anonymous - Text from: I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream
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Summary: (how the hell do y'all do these!???) Offered as a sacrifice to the aggressors — an aggressive race no one has seen in ages — Aiesa must face her greatest fears to broker peace for her people. But beyond the portal is a fate beyond her wildest imagination. The question is: can she handle it?
CW: anxiety, death (alluded to)
A/N: this is my first multi-post series, so please bear with me. but the prompt i got was good af and I realized there was so much I wanted to tell the vision i had got bigger without me permission, so here we are. head's up, there will be some monster-fucking somewhere along the way, so if you're not into that, just ignore this whole thing.
Also, quick shout-out to @ohdrey89 for the writing tips and for resparking my love for writing. this would be sitting on ice for another 5+ months if it weren't for you, so thank youuuuuu!!! 🩵💙🩵
-K. Alecia
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
~
It was to be yet another ritual day.
This year's sacrifice, chosen by the age old tradition of birthstone casting, had been bathed and oiled and adorned thoroughly. As beautiful as she found her reflection, Aiesa bitterly cursed the day her birthstone was picked from the Casting Pit. Why couldn't it be anyone else? Why had the ancestors decided to have parents carve names into jewels and bind them into jewelry? Why had they decided to let the people wear them until they exchanged their birthstone jewelry for the Promise Ceremony? And whose idea was it to use this most sacred tradition to decide which person would get sent to their aggressors in appeasement?
Why do we even continue with this stupid tradition anyway? No one has even seen the aggressors in over 100 cycles.
"Do not speak so carelessly, Aiesa — we continue because we cannot stop." Aiesa jumped, hearing her grandmother's raspy voice, realizing with a start that she has spoken aloud. Hanyul, picked a flower from one of the many bouquets lining the entrance table and walked towards her granddaughter, continuing her explanation. "Because none of our people who have been sent through the portal have ever returned. Because that is indication enough that the aggressors still exist. Because to choose otherwise on an assumption that they have long gone may mean earning their ire and dooming our people to the worst death. It is not a favorable outcome, but it is the best we have. Do try to understand."
Hanyul finally came to Aiesa's side and neatly set the flower in her hair. Untraditional though it may be, the flower went well with her ensemble. Aiesa chose not to speak on it since Hanyul would know better than most what was and was not allowed to happen on the day of the ritual. The Grand Matron of Fallen Leaf has decided this is an acceptable modification, so Aiesa supposed the aggressors can forgive deviance from the norm just this once.
"I do not like this, one bit," Aiesa began, rubbing the backs of her grandmother's hands with her thumbs, "but I don't want to see you worry anymore than you already have. I know everyone we've sent off so far has been like a child to you. So, I will do my best to depart with a smile. Because I am a proud daughter of Fallen Leaf, the pridedul heir of our great Grand Matron," she said playfully, bringing a smile to older woman's face, " and the proudest granddaughter of Hanyul of Mountain Ridge. For all my complaints, I have not forgotten my position, grandmother. I figured I'd let it all out before the ceremony began is all."
Hanyul regarded her granddaughter with something akin to pride and resignation. If only... She shook her head slightly. Harboring thoughts of hope would only break her heart more, but if courage was just a jice word for stupidity, then she was a fool. Hanyul clasped Aiesa's between her own and lowered her head to place a kiss to each of the young woman's finernails.
Aiesa tried her damnedest not to cry, but failed miserably. The custom was not one to be taken lightly and that the Matron herself chose to wordlessly perform the Final Blessing custom — often reserved for the deceased — said enough: she had her own worries she could not voice aloud, but wanted Aiesa to live a rich and prosperous life and many, many more, even outside her purview. The two wept for a time, holding each other for comfort.
And so it was, the ritual began.
The townsfolk gathered, littering the walkway from the entrance to the portal with petals for new hope, salt for safety, and dried tea leaves for good health as they walked with their newest Wayfarer. There were plenty of hands outstretched, but not quite touching — the sacrifice must be clean, after all. But Aiesa knew: her people loved her as much as she loved them. They had grown together, loved together, hurt together, laughed, cried, raged, forgived... She was to be their leader in two years time, finally relieving the Grand Matron of her duties since her daughter passed. But now...
"Aiesa," Hanyul began, effectively commanding everyone's attention, "child of Mountain Ridge... My dear Snow Blossom and beloved granddaughter. You have been tasked with maintaining the peace of our homeland by offering yourself to the aggressors — do you accept this challenge?"
Aiesa raised her chin to look the older woman in the eye. She could see uncertainty there and a silent resolve, as though the Matron intended to save her if only she'd ask. She smiled to herself a little, recognizing the stubbornness in face of duty, but quivkly steeled herself. She would not let her grandmother dishonor everything she'd ever worked for. Not for her.
"I accept with grace, Grand Matron," Aiesa replied with resolve. The older woman's eyes squinted with pride and just a hint of sadness, but before long, she spoke again.
"Today you leave us for a life outside the village and far beyond our reach. Yours is a perilous journey, but you have the strength of every person here to don as your armor for when your heart wavers. May your every step be sure and your every tomorrow be filled with warmth. But more importantly, may today find you with favor."
"May today find you with favor!" the townsfolk parroted. They all choked back tears, knowing this would probably be the hardest ritual in memory. Aiesa looked at their faces, vowing to commit as many to memory as was possible. Scanning through the crowd, she saw one particular face that threatened to unraveled all the courage she'd gathered to stand at the portal. Lucas.
His face was blank, lips set in a thin line, eyes stormy but unseeing. He won't look at me... has he lost weight? Aiesa opened her mouth to speak his name, but he turned away and left, somehow easily cutting through the crowd. It hurt. The wound he left in his absence threatened to fester, but if her childhood friend decided walking away after not being able to see each other for two weeks was the only way he could protect his heart, the least she could do was let him: she would know her fate when facing it, after all, but he would not.
Leave those left behind with a smile for their sake. Her mother's words played in her head and she found an odd comfort in them. Sarlaha would surely be front and center, mouthing the same words to her daughter now if she were still here. But she wasn't and Aiesa couldn't wait any longer knowing every extra second would add yet another void. So she smiled brightly and spoke loudly.
"Thank you all for keeping me and for loving me. I must go now to protect your lives as you protect my heart. May you find peace amidst the heartache... goodbye, everyone!" Her voice may have cracked at the end, perhaps she let a tear slip, but Aiesa couldn't be bothered to figure it out as she turned immediately and ran right through the portal. It wasn't the more graceful sight, but the townfolk would say it was the bravest for years to come.
Aiesa walked through the forest for what felt like hours. The slight humidity spoke to the existence of a sun she couldn't see well past the canopy, but the path was visible and bright enough. The sun — from what she could tell — started to set some and the forest became increasingly cooler. But it wasn't the weather making gooseflesh creep along the same path as the chills — it was the sudden rustling of leaves and the eerie feeling of eyes following her every movement.
I'm such a fool, she thought to herself. In her haste to halt the tears threatening to spill, she'd left the customary dagger of protection for Wayfarers in her grandmother's hands. So she now had no way of defending herself if something attacked her.
Night fell, the sky and air devoid of the sun and its warmth, leaving Aiesa cold and scared. The movements became more frequent as she walked further in. She began hearing giggles and wondered if they were her own, but then she saw figures in white run across her path at the mouth of what appeared to be a clearing. Fear and common sense rooted her to the spot - no one had seen the aggressors and considering the amount of time that had elapsed, she couldn't be sure if they intended to torment her before killing her, but she'd be damned if she let them get rid of her that easily. She began scanning the path's edge for weapons, anything, to protect herself, when she her louder rustling. That one sounded much too close, she thought, wondering if her odds were better in the woods or out in the clearing.
More giggles sounded and Aiesa began to breathe harder as she turned to face the sounds and, hopefully, the danger before it reached her. But the wind carried away the noise, making it harder to pinpoint. Darkness made her worry needlessly. The deafening silence made her fear the worst. The feel of heavy footsteps married with more leaves had her sprinting towards the clearing in a panic.
Once she reached her destination, she spun around with fists clenched, ready to fight for survival. She had accepted death, but not being hunted. Gods forgive me and keep my people safe, but I will not be made into a sport, Aiesa thought bitterly. She loosened her hips and relaxed her body some as she closed her eyes to focus on the space around her. At the first peal of laughter, she sprinted towards the forest, ready to die fighting, but what emerged made her stumble backwards. It was much too big. Too inhuman despite the humanoid shape - inspite of the darkness in the woods, she could tell that much. Its heavy, purposeful footsteps made her wonder how it even moved without her hearing before and for how long it was tracking her. The weapon it wielded was taller than she, thicker than both her thighs combined, and — if she could guess by the way it gouged out the dirt as it dragged along the forest floor — heavy enough to send her to The Beyond before she could even register pain.
The large mass stepped into the clearing and she backed up more watching in fascinated horror as she noticed one feature after the next come properly into view. Greenish-brown skin, broad shoulders, calloused hands no doubt toughened by battle and carnage. The ears came next and then the moonlight glinted off of one oddly pristine tusk. An aggressor! Her end had come for her and all she could do was stare. The aggressor stopped to stare right back before crouching down to reach for her.
Aiesa took in one solid gasp of air before the world faded to black.
From a moving vehicle, from a building, out of a window, from a tree... Stumbling and collapsing doesn't count, but I will count it if your whumpee faceplants.
This prompt was submitted by an anon.
Thank you very much for this prompt anon!
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Out of Breath (794 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Karyn Faro/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Characters: Karyn Faro, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Post-Star Wars: Rebels, Purrgil Space Whales (Star Wars), Chissmas 2023, Chronic Pain, Disabled Character
Summary:
Faro's gotten very good at catching even the most minor hitch in Thrawn's breath.
