12 Works by ciredan
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Ajay Ghale dies, and all hell breaks loose. The king is at once furious and inconsolable, driven beyond all logic or reasoning by his grief. Perhaps it is that mix of unknowable emotion that causes him to enlist the help of the wizard Sabal.
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the party is already here ; BYOB
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Ancom shakes quer head. "No, it's alright. Feel like I gotta tell someone at some point and I'll talk to the bootlickers about this when I'm dead." Que grimaces, sits up straight, leans back on quer forearms. Looking up at the cavernous ceiling, que continues. "There was... a knife. I can't quite get the timeline straight and I haven't asked the others that were there for their version of events. But the guy made me apologise, stood me up, slapped me. I just kept repeating 'I didn't say nothing'. Don't know why."
"Sounds stressful," Tankie rumbles out. "It is reasonable that you would not be thinking straight at that time. Have you gone to the authorities?"
This gets a laugh-- sharp and without humour-- from the other extremist. "You know how I feel about cops. Besides," que speaks without affectation, "doesn't feel like it needs it. I'm fine. Nothing really happened."
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mirror fic to radio complaints and grievances raised; ajay just so happens to catch the broadcast
Series
- Part 2 of hell is the talking type
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mono no aware (物の哀れ)
literally "the pathos of things", and also translated as "an empathy toward things", or "a sensitivity to ephemera", is a Japanese term for the awareness of impermanence (無常, mujō), or transience of things, and both a transient gentle sadness (or wistfulness) at their passing as well as a longer, deeper gentle sadness about this state being the reality of life. -
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"Fuck off, you degenerate slavic scum," Nazi hissed. He was reeling from the feeling, head swimming, all his nerves on fire as every point of contact with Tankie felt electric.
"Mmm," Commie considered, and this close Nazi could feel his deep thrumming voice sending vibrations through his chest. "That would not be wise of me. How do I know you will not shoot me soon as I let go? Besides," the red bastard chuckled and shifted his knee upwards. "It would seem that you are enjoying this!"
"That's--" he swallowed, "--a completely natural reaction to adrenaline. All that proves is my masculinity is in tact."
Tankie laughed boisterously at that, moving one hand to clap Nazi on the shoulder. "That may be true, comrade, but you are obviously incredibly repressed! You are still living in 1930's while rest of us have moved on long ago. If you are cocksucker, that is natural too, да?"
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rough surf on the coast, i wish i couldve spent the whole day alone (with you) by ciredan
Fandoms: Far Cry 4
20 Nov 2019
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sabal tries to get ajay to come back to kyrat with him; he always tries.
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if i could spare his life, if i could trade his life for mine;
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windhelm rots from the head down
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rabi ray rana was fifteen when he was shot.
it was out by the abandoned jheel, with chotu by his side. he still remembers the panic, the sharp blooming burst of pain in his shoulder that burned deep and primal within him. it killed and it rended, and rabi remembers not even caring that it wasn't actually him being shot. someone, somewhere out there was enduring an absolute bastard of a time. and, for the first time in a fair few fucking years, he actually felt concerned for whoever was on the other end of his soul bond rather than hating their guts.
it was a couple of hours til chotu could get him back home, the grey sky fading to dusty pink and orange over the mountains as they walked side-by-side. rabi hoped that, somehow, his soulmate could feel just a fraction of his peace right now.
over the himalayas, across two continents and halfway around the world; ajay ghale started to turn his life around.
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"With all due respect Mr Pagan sir, I am going to hold Ajay's hand and there is nothing you or your army can do about it."
"You are testing me you insolent fucking child."
Rabi smiled a little as he fell into himself. This... he might actually be able to get used to; nothing quite like sticking it to the man to lift his mood. Maybe developing a little rapport with The Man as well. Kyra, he hoped his listeners were enjoying this. He was only risking his goddamn life. "Come and find me. If you could, you would have shut me down already. Bitch."
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AKA: in which pagan goes on a coke bender and calls radio free kyrat very angry, very late at night to learn rabi some fucking etiquette on don't talk about my goddamn stepson like that On Live Radio, you bastard, Motherfucker I Will Kill Us Both
Series
- Part 1 of hell is the talking type
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hanzo reveals a very private part of himself to someone he thought he could trust
alternatively; "i hate myself and i roleplay weird headcanons with friends"