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nyrasbloodyclover · 1 year

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the great war (aemond targaryen x oc)

masterlist (read the warnings!)

a/n: aemond will appear soon, dw. there are some mistakes, but i am too lazy to edit

2. the birth

Reila wanted to go with her father, but her mother forbid her, saying they have to talk. And she wasn't particularly looking forward to that. She had to watch her father and Jace ride off, laughing like long lost brothers, into the woods.

"You like him," her mother smiled.

"Of course I like him! Did you see how he spoke about his mother?" Reila clutched her chest and sighed. "Damn him for being betrothed."

"Did you forget maybe that you are too?" Her mother sat on the large chair in front of fire.

"Is that the topic you wanted to talk about?"

Arra cocked her head, saying nothing. "Mother... We have months until then."

"They will pass quicker than you think." She gently took her hand. "I sometimes forget how you've grown."

She hated being reminded of that. It was a curse, getting older. Not the years, but the things you have to lose, the things that have to change. She hated change. As did her mother. That's why she married her childhood best friend.

"Mother, It's not..." Reila sat on the floor, beside Arra, "It's not marriage that I'm worried about. I know my duties as a wife and I will be a good wife..."

"Oh, I know, my dear," her mother laughed.

"But I don't want to go," her throat closed up, "I don't want to leave Winterfell."

"But The Riverrun is beautiful. I cannot bring Kermit here, but I can tell you that you'll grow to like it. And even if you don't, you can always visit me and you father here and stay for as long as you want." When Reila opened her mouth, Arra interrupted her, "And no, you can't stay forever."

Reila let out a rich laugh, "Oh, how you know me mother!" Arra made patterns on her daughter's hand, "And when you finally go, and marry him, I want you to make sure that he knows you just like I and Cregan know you."

"And if he simply doesn't care?" Reila looked up at her mother.

She smiled, "Then you have my permission to murder him in his sleep. Or while he's awake, your choice."

Not long after Reila's conversation with her mother, Jace and Cregan returned and big feast took place later, that same day.

Reila even got to dance with Jace. He twirled her, his touch was gentle and he even made her laugh. He was really enchanting, which wasn't something she could say for the rest of the lords she had experience with in the past.

It was a day of celebration. Her mother went into labour. She is to be wed. Their alliance with House Targaryen was renewed. Everyone looked so happy and cheerful, but Reila couldn't forget where her mother was right now. It was a terrifying thought that there is a chance, a possibility that her mother...No. She's going to live, and she's going to be alright.

The only relief was when her sweet direwolf came to her beneath the table for food. "My dear Iris," she petted her auburn fur. From across the table, Jace looked almost horrified. As if his family didn't have a dozens of dragons and a pit full of them. She wasn't able to comment on his expression since Cregan started talking another battle story and everyone laughed. Only Reila felt miserable. She wanted to see her mother. Right away.

She stood up, but no one payed much attention to her, so she easily left the room and went to her mother.

"You will become a sister by the end of the day, my lady," said maester Kennet.

"Is my mother all right?" She asked. They were standing in front of a large wooden door that led to Lady Arra. Reila wanted to see her mother but at the same time, she didn't.

She was scared for her, but Arra gave birth to one child, she could do it again. Right? Reila didn't wait for an answer and barged inside without a warning, maester following her.

"Mother?" She said after seeing the scene that played in front of her. Arra was covered in sweat and blood while gripping the headboard. Her eyes were shut in pain and Reila was certain every person in the room was telling her mother to "breathe" or "push".

Uneasy feeling crept up Reila's chest while watching her mother in such state. It made her think of her future husband and how in less than 2 years it will be her in Arra's place.

Her mother spared her a glance that was full of comfort, but it was Arra who needed it right now. So Reila knelt beside her mother and took her hand, while brushing off the sweat from her face.

"Don't look so concerned, my dear. I gave birth to you, didn't I?" She tried to laugh but the sound was replaced with a cry and maester was quickly giving her something to drink— poppy milk, Reila assumed.

"I had to make sure you're alright," she said.

"You left Jace, just to see me?" her mother smiled, but Reila could see every muscle, every bone hurt her. "What will you wear on your wedding?"

The question left Reila wondering. They had time to think about that. Arra had bigger problems now.

"We have about a month to think about that, mother. You're giving birth, for gods' sake!"

She felt like there was too much noise in the room. She wanted to scream at her mother and ask her what does she mean, why is she saying that right now. She wasn't on a death bed, dear gods.

Her mother smiled weakly, "You have to wear that emerald necklace I always kept away from you."

She had no idea why would her mother be concerned about it now, but that was before maester took out a small knife and walked towards Arra. The silver thing shined on the morning sun. Reila started shaking with fear.

Reila immediately panicked, standing up, "What is the meaning of this?"

"We must save the baby now or both of them are dead," maester Kennet said louder that he did in the last ten years.

"Does my father know?" She asked her voice shaking.

"You'll tell him later, my dear." Her mother looked exhausted and Reila's heart was breaking.

"No! You must save her! Take out the baby somehow! Do something!" She was screaming now. She wanted her father to hear and come and fix this. But she knew there was no way out, she just didn't want to accept it.

"I'm sorry, there is nothing we can do."

Reila just now felt the hot tears on her face. Gods know for how long they've been there. She gripped her mother's hand harder than ever. Sobs were choking her.

"Please don't die," she begged, "Don't leave me."

"I love you, my sweet girl," she whispered. In a second there was blood everywhere, almost dripping from the covers. She looked down and saw her mother—cut open. Her stomach, torn in half. Scent of iron filled her nostrils.

Everything from that moment became a blur. She doesn't remember the baby crying, or what the maester said to her. She stood up with bloody hands and exited the room. Reila dragged herself through the empty corridors.

The laughter immediately stopped when Reila entered the room, covered in blood. Cregan Stark never looked so terrified in his life.

He jumped from his seat and strode towards Reila, but when he realized she was physically fine he ran past her and into her mothers chambers. Jace appeared beside her, holding her and she took his hand for support. If she fell she wouldn't be able to get up. Everyone present left.

•

Reila Stark's grey eyes had been puffy and her cheeks stained with tears for the last three weeks. Jace left day after her mother's death, wanting to be respectful and let the family mourn in peace.

Cregan Stark was silent after the death of his childhood best friend, which wasn't something Reila was used to.

Her room felt strange and unfamiliar. Like it wasn't hers. She wanted to continue living normally because there was a wedding in less than two weeks and it was her wedding and people would want to celebrate but she couldn't leave her room and speak to someone without bursting into tears.

Seeing her father trying to be there for her made her question whether someone is there for him. So she made her goal to speak to him properly before the wedding. It's going to be easier with time, she knew it.

So she wiped her tears and decided to find Cregan Stark. She had to make things right. If Reila stopped speaking to her father she'd have no one in this world. No one to care for her, no one to protect her.

She slowly walked towards the door when they opened. He came to her first. Her father looked tired. He cried that day, but didn't shed a tear later. He just pretended he had things to do and army to organize and the preparations for war. Reila understood. It was a healthy way of dealing with things.

She, on the other hand, she was falling apart. Iris sat on the bed beside her. She was always there, even if Reila doesn't notice her, she is there.

Iris kept her company most of the time. Reila cried into her hor fur as her direwolf slept in her bed. She loved her more than she loved herself.

Reila didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around her father's neck, "I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be the one who's apologizing. You weren't supposed to see all of that."

And he was right. But it was too late now. At least the baby is alive. Which wasn't something Reila was happy about. If she could, she'd give Rickon in exchange for a single moment with her mother. But of course, she couldn't say that. If she began telling the truth, more people would hate her.

"She told me to wear an emerald necklace." Reila said distantly.

"Of course she did. It was her favorite."

#hotd #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen #daemon targaryen #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond fic #aemond imagine #aemond the kinslayer

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booksandchainmail · 1 year

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Pale 9.11

Her spiritual antler having enough to it that the actual antler could float there. Verona’s mask hadn’t stuck, apparently. She wasn’t sure what that was about.

My theory here is that Verona's mask remains broken because it breaking was an emotionally resonant moment. Avery's mask just got damaged in battle, and hasn't impacted Avery's view of how it should look. Verona's mask was shattered in a moment of betrayal and cruelty from someone she should have been able to trust, and had a corresponding impact on her Self.

“You related to Ken?” Avery asked. “He’s my dad, I guess,” Nettie said. “I’m the offshoot. We figured we’d scatter, cover more ground.”

oh neat!

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I like the name Nettie,” Avery said. “Now I’m wondering what the others are called.”

I think there were four total? So some ideas: Kendall, Kendra, Kennedy, Nate, any name that ends in -nette

“Good. The pin will help you with the prep. If you’re in a place for a while, it’ll change. Tells you when you’re attuned to a place, when you can ask the city spirits things. There are ones smaller and vaguer than me. Neighborhood spirits, street spirits. You’ll usually need to do things for them, even picking up litter or something, before they’ll do something for you.”

I like this! Good for the girls' role as protectors of Kennet, and particularly suited for Avery's personality

Nettie nodded, glanced around, then leaned in a bit. “Nobody’s listening, so I can tell you Verona’s claimed her gift. She called, another part of me answered. I’m meant to forget after I’ve told you two.”

something that helps her run or hide within Kennet would be very useful right now

“When things go really wrong my mind kind of shuts off,” Avery said. “I’ve had thoughts before that it doesn’t work like that for Verona. I don’t think she’s making dumb moves.”

she's making extreme moves. She is making them very effectively! But entirely possible to get herself in too deep while she's like this

“I think she can be very smart and have almost no common sense when she’s like this.”

High INT low WIS. Honestly that seems to describe Verona most of the time, but it gets amplified when she's like this. In this state she doesn't seem to have much sense of self-preservation or care for the future or side consequences.

“I don’t want her taking some property from Ken and doing a demesne ritual without us there, or anything.”

I mean. That would be one way to keep the furs out of reach. But I don't like the implications of Verona choosing her new home while in this state, or of creating it all alone.

Scary Others, goblins, body snatchers, a heist of some ancient spirit judge’s furs? That was one thing. But buzzing a classmate she barely knew for weird reasons, then having to improvise an explanation? Augh.

big mood

Steph + Reagan + Howie Perry. It was only visible with her Sight. She tapped the name.

Reagan! From the Hungry Choir ritual!

“Bonky Donks? Cookies? Whizzbangs?”

are those actual canadian snacks?

“It’s fine,” Avery said. “Your daughter was really cool to us when things got really hairy, and I’m really grateful for that. You raised a good daughter.” “Why even tell her if she’s going to forget?” Melissa asked. “Because it’s important,” Avery said. Maybe if I say it again, “Reagan was cool.”

awww

“You can stay if you want, Melissa, we don’t really have the time to drag you with us, but I’m going to be blunt, on a seriousness scale of clown to terminal cancer, I’d rate this a multiple stab wound,” Lucy said. “What are you even talking about?” Melissa asked.

yeah I'm with Melissa, that explanation does not help

“I’m the Frankenstein’s monster that got put together from the scraps that were left behind. A bit of the backfill that’s smoothing over the holes they left, so the universe can heal and move on. I was a confused jumble of a bunch of people’s memories, at first, and then I put myself together. It was excruciating. Tying knots in two ropes that are being pulled in opposite directions, over and over again. I don’t think I’m very long for this world. When the universe has smoothed it all out, I’ll be the bumpy bit that gets scraped away. Probably.”

Man that sucks. And made worse by how all the component pieces of him were in a place to join the Hungry Choir ritual.

I wonder if there's a way to preserve him? Tie him to something other than just the gaps of those missing kids? Crack theory: make him the new Carmine judge.

“McKay and Bridge have a solid game plan. Pick a body I want, drive out the occupant, then slip inside. Depending on the fit, I should be able to hang out for a few decades.”

or that :|

“They were so desperate. All of them. It wasn’t just those three. They bit, they clawed, they screamed, they hurt. In their last moments they stood on the edge of oblivion. More of them gave their all than gave up. That’s the space I’m occupying. Those are the Frankenstein pieces I’m made up of. They were barely even human. They were scared and savage. They were torn to shreds and I’m the shreds that didn’t get eaten.”

Anyone who made it past even a single night of the Choir had to have come to terms with watching people die. And anyone who participated in one of the last night's of the cycle, like Reagan, knew what their survival would cost and had to decide to keep going.

Now that I think about, we've never got details on the night Brie won. Maybe some the parts she needed from other people were willing, but there's no way she didn't choose to go after people with force to survive. I wonder how much of her not wanting to fight is having to live knowing that seven people died in her place, and now their twisted echoes are bound in her flesh?

“I don’t think you realize what it means, for me to be made up of people who were like these guys were right at the end. Doing anything to keep going. Even eating vomit, clawing at a friend’s arm, begging…”

which of course means CK is born from a place that is desperate enough to make those awful choices. No wonder he's contemplating stealing someone else's body to survive.

"We- the idea we were debating was… we’d spread enough raw chaos that the universe wouldn’t be doing any paving over for me. McKay would have more people with their lives in shambles to steal from, and Bridge would maybe be able to pull more Self together. If anything can survive the Abyss and its chaos then it tends to get bigger, tougher and stronger." “That’s a terrible idea, you know, and I don’t know much about the Abyss.”

having read Pact: do not try to get more Abyssal! It's bad!

#booksandchainmail reads pale #pale #wildbow

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anchanted-one · 2 years

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Book of Storms. Legend of Vajra

18. Hitting the Ground Running

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/109518270

Sergeant Dina Bridges liked escort duty. Not only did it beat playing door warden; there was not a single functionary, diplomat, bureaucrat, Senator, or celebrity who didn’t turn a banal pick-up and drop into a long tour of the shops, cantinas, tourist spots and other sights. Most had interesting stories to share, and were willing to talk about it too.

Last week she’d escorted a Corellian tycoon named Kennet Willason, who had come to meet Senator Swan of Corellia.

“This looks just like a reek that chased my squad!” he’d exclaimed, picking up an expensive figurine. “A fine gift to my former CO! If a little cheeky…”

“Your CO, Sir? Is that Senator Swan?”

“Oh, yes, he was a Colonel before he decided to run for the Senate. He served on twelve systems during the war, including Alderaan and Balmorra. I was only with him for the latter half of Balmorra. Before the war ended.”

“Was that where the reek almost got you?”

“Indeed, it was! I told him the air smelled funny in that tunnel, but oh, no! Mister war veteran could smell danger better than a spoiled brat of a raw recruit! I never let him forget it!”

She had laughed heartily, imagining the old Senator’s face as he received his present.

Today’s visitor was a kid, so she wasn’t expecting any major stories today, but she wondered if she’d get the satisfaction of seeing him gawk at Coruscant’s high structures. She wished she was out there killing bad guys and making a difference, but for now, she was happy enough to leave the Senate Tower. Its glitz and glam had really worn off after a mere three years.

She and her team entered the Commons’ Spaceport, the crowds making way for them.

“Straight ahead,” Timmins said, looking at his wrist computer. “In the stalls.”

“Of course he is. Let’s go. Can someone describe him again?”

She could almost hear Ila rolling her eyes. “Dusk blue skin, four arms. Three eyes. Come on, Sarge, it’s not that hard to keep up!”

“Not that necessary either, when I’ve got my cute juniors to do the nitty-gritty, right?” she winked heartily. “The joys of command!”

“But it’s so easy this time!” Ila complained. “With four arms, this kid will stand out of the crowd.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Timmins said. “It’s not like he’ll have them spread eagled. And the crowd is thick as Moma Martha’s soups.”

“That’s what the tracker’s for. Hopefully he doesn’t decide to play some amusing prank on us.”

When they reached the stalls, Timmins directed them to one of the larger cafeterias. It took half a minute for them to find their subject, who had already started getting ready to leave.

“Would you look at that?” Ila mumbled. “He’s not going to make us wait. How considerate of him!”

“He’s just finished eating,” Dina mumbled back. “We got lucky.”

“I don’t think so…” Timmins pointed. A waiter handed the kid a parcel. “It looks like he packed what he couldn’t finish.”

“Good. Real gentleman.”

“He’s coming.”

“I see that, Ila.”

The boy walked at a quick pace, but somehow avoided bumping into anyone. His choice of clothes interested Dina; he wore something like harem pants and a scarf. Some belts to which all of his pouches were clipped onto. Other than the scarf, his torso was bare.

She really hoped there was no Avant Garde fashion designer nearby, taking notes. But the kid himself? He wore it well. It was clearly more of a cultural thing than a juvenile attempt to grab attention.

Not that you could, on Coruscant. Too many people here.

The youth walked up and bowed to her team. “Good afternoon,” he said politely. “My name is Vajra Devarath. Are you my escort?”

“That’s right,” Dina saluted. “I’m Sergeant Dina Bridges. This is Amon Wessex, Timmins Barderson, and Ilaniya Ivajo. It’s nice to meet you. I see we interrupted your meal.”

He laughed nervously. “It’s alright. I can eat on the speeder.”

“Good. Shall we?”

“Lead the way, please.”

Her team formed up around him, with Amon taking the lead. Dina walked to his left, shooting glances at him. The boy was clearly from some smaller world; he marveled at everything; art, conveniences, people, and the occasional shop. Thankfully, he didn’t slow down, instead taking in everything while moving at the pace Amon set. The throng could get angry if people held them up by stopping to stare and gawk. There would be a chance for that in the less crowded Senate district proper.

“Do all your kind dress like that?” Ila asked.

“A little. I’ve modified the style a bit, but didn’t want to leave my people’s aesthetic too far behind.”

“Charming,” Dina replied. “You wear it well.”

The brat’s Astromech whistled. “Our meeting is scheduled in one hour, can we get there in time?”

“Sure,” Dina said, before adding, “Anything you’d like to do in the meantime?”

He considered for a second. “If possible, I’d like an updated map of Coruscant. I might need a better commlink too, since mine probably can’t handle the calls I’ll be getting with my added responsibilities. I’ll probably need a rented speeder too. Doesn’t need to be flashy, but fast. But most of those can wait, and maybe I can just get them from—”

“And here I thought you’d ask for a sundae,” Dina said with a sweet grin. “I wouldn’t mind one myself. It’s kinda hot out here.”

Ila gave her a mock-scornful look. “The Sarge thinks she’s funny. Anyway. You’re better off getting those from a different sector. The markets in this district are over-priced. I can share my map with you, no problem. Coruscant Security is constantly having our maps updated because this city’s always changing. And you can just requisition a speeder as needed, we have enough for our own use. But don’t you want a tour?”

“I dunno,” he said. “Early or not, I’d like to get started.”

“Hey, it’s okay to lighten up a little. I know this is Coruscant, I know you’re probably off to meet some Senator about a crucial new bill or something, but… live a little. You know? The Grand Plaza is right there! Who’s to say you’ll come out here again?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders, a small smile on his face. “I think she just wants that sundae,” he asked in a loud whisper.

The Astromech, Ila giggled, and even Amon smiled slightly… though Timmins’ face remained its usual, tense mask. Dina gave the kid a pleading look. “Please, kid? I’ll buy!”

“Well, why not? But can you take me to the Senate first? I think my friend will be waiting. She might want in on our little party.”

“Thanks, that’s swell of you!”

Eventually, Ila struck up a conversation with him. Because of course she did! She was just two months into the service, and had that attitude of service which most kids came in with. Friendly, cooperative, kind. Not at all like Timmins, all business-like.

She asked him where he was from, what species, how old he was, and other such questions, which he answered politely enough. Dina listened with some interest, but her head snapped around at one comment from Amon: “I didn’t know they raised a Jedi to Knighthood at your age.”

“It’s not as rare as it should be anymore. Too many Jedi were killed in the war—are you alright, Sarge? You’ve gone so pale!”

“You’re a fucking Jedi?” she breathed furiously. “Why weren’t we told he was a fucking Jedi! And a full Knight too!”

“We were told!” Ila said, amusement lighting her eyes. “But someone doesn’t listen to the briefings. It’s really not our fault.”

“It is! You’re supposed to tell me the important stuff!”

“We try, but you didn’t listen to us either.”

“The briefing was… well. Brief,” Amon said, joining in on salting the wound with some amusement. A public spat with someone important had permanently stunted his career, so he took some pleasure in giving superior officers lip when he could get away with it. “There really is no excuse for failing to listen.”

She groaned. It was bad enough she didn’t pay attention, but she had gone and made it blatant by blurting it out to her charge. In front of her subordinates. There was no way the others were going to let her hear the last about this.

“So that’s the Senate…” the Jedi whispered when they left the spaceport. The building was in the distance still, but it stood out.

“It’s built to inspire,” Amon said. He sounded a little mechanical; he’d said this line a dozen times this month alone.

“It does a good job of that.”

“Here’s the speeder pad. We’ve parked ours here.”

“Good, I hope I can finish my meal. I was starving.”

“Yeah, food on those freighters is usually terrible.”

Timmins took the wheel, and Dina sat beside him. Ila and Amon sat in the back with their guest in the middle seat. The two guards in the back chatted about some incident in the showers this morning, while the boy resumed his meal. He kept looking out the window, and his eyes widened each time.

Knight or not, a kid was always a kid. Thank goodness the galaxy couldn’t change everything.

Kira waited on tenterhooks for Vajra to arrive.

“Look who’s here!” she called loudly when he arrived, waving so fast it might appear she was trying to take flight.

Vajra waved back with equal vigor. Kira ran up to him and gave him a bone-crushing bear hug until he squealed. “The one-Kira party association welcome you to Coruscant. So how is our boy Knight doing? And how was the flight?”

“Good, for a change.”

“Tell me about it, those public transport vessels are in serious need for upgrades whenever the budget becomes available. I’m glad Master Kiwiiks has her own ship. We wanted to wait for you, but we were wanted here.”

“I know, I saw the poster in the spaceport.”

Kira chortled.

”I’m surprised you’re not wanted on every planet. With a billion-credit bounty to your name.”

“Hey, I’m secretly evil, not outright evil.”

“Ohhh, that’s right! And we’re right in front of the Senate, too!” Vajra dropped his voice theatrically. “I’m sorry for breaking your cover, Kira!”

“Since it’s you, I forgive you.” Kira knocked his shoulder. “Come on. We’re still early for the meeting, so we can look around the plaza before we meet the Supreme Chancellor. He’s a kindly old guy, but watch your words! Innocent people don’t become Chancellors.”

“Really? Good that you’re secretly evil then!”

“Hey! Don’t give away my secret plan!”

“Sorry!”

“We’ll come with,” Sergeant Dina said. “We’re going to get some nice sundaes.”

“The more, the merrier!”

The milling crowds turned to stare at the two children and their escort walking out of the Senate, chatting like they were on a picnic. Vajra felt a little self-conscious but didn’t want to appear any more childish than he already did.

“Say,” Kira added. “Do your people wear armor?”

“Leather or hide armor, sometimes. But only when there’s fighting or hunting to be done. Wearing it otherwise is seen as… hostile. I think the nobles I saw in Jnanaprastha wore armor ceremonially though… were they decorated? Inscribed? I can’t remember…”

“That’s what I thought. I don’t dislike the sight of your scrawny chest, but maybe it’s best if you cover up. At least on formal occasions. I know a nice shop nearby, where we can buy you something made of leatheris. It would keep your Raudra aesthetic, but appear a little more formal.”

“Good idea.”

Kira and Vajra had fun picking out a chest guard which went well with Vajra’s look, after which his guard bought them the sundaes she was so clearly craved.

Twenty minutes later, they raced back to the Senate to avoid getting late for their meeting.

“You can blame me for this,” the Sergeant sighed.

“Shush. We’re only a minute late.”

“That’s everything to these guys.”

“I’d never use you as a scapegoat.”

“Lowly guards are forgiven. Knights are not.”

Vajra approached the door and waited for the guard to announce him. Seconds later, he was shown inside, but Kira was asked to wait out. She watched her friend apprehensively as the doors closed.

“Nice knowing ya, kid,” the Sergeant said.

“He had a nice last meal at least,” Kira played along with her melancholy.

“True. But I’m going to feel guilty for the rest of the hour. Our work is done now, Miss. We should head back to the barracks.”

“Sure. See ya!”

T7 whistled farewell.

Dirk Tomaya openly cast a critical gaze over the boy’s appearance. He ‘tsk’-ed at everything he saw; the child looked the bare minimum to be deemed presentable. His short hair was combed, but rather carelessly. His scarf and lower robs were a little faded, but of decent design and quality. He also bore the unmistakeable signs of having arrived straight from the spaceport—he looked a little travelworn. The more experienced Jedi never made such mistakes; they came in looking fit to be in this office.

He was every bit the boy he looked.

Curiously, his bearing was impeccable; his lithe walk, his easy stance, his strong posture… they were all worthy of some noble on Alderaan. With work, he might become as dignified and courtly as Masters Bela Kiwiiks, Satele Shan, or Syo Bakarn.

He only hoped he wouldn’t go the Jaric Kaedan route.

“I’m sorry my appearance offends you,” the boy said courteously as Virk opened the doors to the Chancellor’s briefing room. “This is my first time on the Capital.”

“I know,” Dirk said shortly. “And it shows. Do better next time.”

His Master caught his eye, and he deflated. While there was no visible sign he was perturbed, Dirk had learned all of his tells.

The Jedi bowed low. “Hello, Your Excellency. My name is Vajra Devarath. I’ve been assigned to help Masters Kiwiiks and Orgus.”

“Salutations, Jedi Vajra,” Chancellor Janarus returned the respectful bow. “Welcome to Coruscant. I’ve heard some tales of your exploits. You’ve made quite a splash already.”

“You’re too kind, Your Excellency. So many people even younger than I have had to step up.”

“That is an unfortunate reality,” the Chancellor sighed. “In fact, the threats and demands on our best and brightest never stop. You will have noticed by now that neither Master is here at the moment. There has been a development, and General Var Suthra has begged the help of all available Jedi. I hope you’ll pardon my insistence on meeting you despite this.”

“Of course, Your Excellency.”

“I do wish to ask you about the Twi’leks in this illegal settlement on Tython, since you got to know them best.”

The boy sighed. “I fear a brief explanation might be insufficient to convey the subtleties, Your Excellency.”

“Then I hope to speak about it afterwards. But for now, the gist will have to suffice.”

“As you wish. I do not trust their spiritual leader, Grand Matriarch Kolovish. She led the villagers to Tython, then left others to look after them. She never even came down when they were being killed or tortured. She only ever stirred to crush all talks of leaving. She claimed the Kalikori were brave, and would not abandon another home. But when I told her that the Jedi Council was considering leaving Tython, she panicked and asked questions like ‘Where will they go?’ As for the villagers, they’re good people most days, but they proved the fears you have no doubt heard from others—they pose a huge security risk. Not only are they open to attack, they can be used, and even turned, against us. And Force forbid they try sending off-world transmissions which get intercepted.”

“I thank you for your summary,” the Chancellor sipped from his goblet. “We will deliberate on the matter. Now, please. Don’t let me keep you here any longer! Your Masters are waiting for you. Head on over to the Military wing with your friend. Anyone there can point you in the direction of Var Suthra’s office.”

The boy bowed again and left.

“You were rather short with him. I saw you in the security feed, looking him over like some prize bull.”

“He is a mere child,” Dirk sighed. “His training as a warrior may be complete, but he is still far too green to mingle with the high society. To think he would enter the Senate in that state, let alone the offices of the Supreme Chancellor! I suspect there are more deficiencies waiting to be noticed.”

“Indeed, the Jedi have fallen low,” the Chancellor replied. “But that is a sign of the times. As a group, the Jedi have suffered more losses than any others. And we need them to fight the Sith.”

“Of course, your Excellency.”

“In addition, remember what I’ve told you before; never burn a bridge unless you know it’s safe to do so. That boy may prove a valuable piece on the board someday. And I’d rather we use valuable pawns in my side of the table rather than reach for a piece that is already in a rival’s reach. Saresh is growing in influence, and there are even Jedi who believe she would be a better Chancellor than me.”

“Heavens forbid,” Dirk said, though he privately agreed.

“That boy is no Satele Shan, nor is he a Syo Bakarn. Certainly not Bela Kiwiiks, Gnost-Dural, or Orgus Din. But he has the full confidence of the Council at age fifteen. When was the last time all twelve of the Council gathered for something as banal as a Knighting ceremony? At such short notice, too? That alone means something. It means, if we earn his trust, we can snag ourselves an inside man. Or at least, an advocate. At best, the Jedi’s new weapon will allow itself to be wielded by us from time to time.”

Was this how the mind of Supreme Chancellor Janarus worked? Dirk reassessed his capabilities. “I understand, Chancellor. I’ll be careful in the future.”

“Good. Now who’s my next appointment?”

Dirk looked at his datapad. “Senator Dodonna, your Excellency.”

“Ah, how charming! Let’s see what she’s brought us today.”

Kira was relieved that the wasted minute didn’t earn him a rebuke. Not a bad one anyway.

“So what’s the word?”

“The word is, we need to find someone called General Var Suthra in the Military offices.”

“Well, I know how to get to the offices at least.”

“Good. Let’s hurry, I don’t want to miss the start.”

“Eh. So long as we can be there at the end.”

“You were worried about a single wasted minute before.”

“That was with the Supreme Chancellor. The politicians are big on propriety. And we needed to make a good first impression.”

“Which I failed to. Even that secretary looked down his nose.”

“Awww. Poor baby.” She sighed and gave him a look. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t call you things like that anymore. I really need to treat you as a full Knight.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Others have to see it, otherwise you’ll be disrespected for the next decade—have you seen the looks everyone is giving you? —Which means it’s up to us Padawans to show them how to bow and scrape. Don’t worry, I’m quite good at it!”

Vajra laughed. “No, you’re not!”

“I can be,” Kira pretended to be mildly hurt. “You’ve not seen me in full-on bootlicker mode.”

“And I don’t want to.”

“No helping it. All these morons just see a kid. They need to see and treat you as a Knight. So, it’s the Padawans’ time to shine! Well… you shone on Tython, and the Twi’leks loved you for it.”

“Didn’t stop them from throwing me to the wolves.”

“I thought you said it was the right decision?”

“It still hurt.”

Kira pursed her lips. “Well, I’m glad you broke up with Ranna, considering that we may need deal with her people. Not-so-nicely. Eventually. Come on, the offices are right at the bottom of these stairs.”

Luckily, the soldiers on guard took even young Jedi seriously. They just gave one look at the pair before leading them to a briefing room.

Kira let Vajra enter first, then deliberately gave an even lower bow than he did.

“Good afternoon, Masters!” Vajra looked around at everyone and said “It’s nice to meet you all. My name is Vajra Devarath.”

“And I’m Kira Carsen.”

“Kira is my Padawan,” Master Kiwiiks added. “Vajra was Master Orgus’. He was recently Knighted after a spectacular apprenticeship. Despite his age, he has the Council’s full confidence.”

“Good to know,” one of the men said. He looked dubious, but at least he didn’t openly mock Vajra. Vajra looked at him for a second, but paled unexpectedly, his jaw dropping.

“I’m sorry, young Knight. Have we met before?”

“No, no. Sorry. You just look like someone else I once knew.”

“I see.” The Doctor looked a little perturbed.

“Welcome to Coruscant!” A Mon Cala stepped up to Vajra and seized his hand in a gracious, two-handed shake before giving Kira an equally energetic welcome. “I am General Var Suthra. Head of New Arms Development.”

“Var Suthra here was one of my comrades back in the war,” Master Orgus explained. “He was here when the Sith attacked the Capital.”

“Which is why it pains me to see young Jedi thrust into the spot. This is Doctor Eli Tarnis,” Var Suthra indicated the human male who had spoken up earlier. “He’s my chief scientist.”

“You’ve arrived just in time,” Master Kiwiiks said. “The General was just preparing to explain why the Republic built a planetary-scale weapon without consulting the Jedi.”

“My work barely classifies as a weapon,” Doctor Tarnis protested, raising his hands placatingly. “It is the most humane military technology ever invented. With a single push of a button, the weapon supercharges the world’s upper atmosphere into, essentially, an ion cannon. This completely disables any starships from entering, or leaving the planet. Perfect enemy entrapment.”

“Jasme told me something about a ‘Law of unintended consequences’,” Vajra stroked his jaw. “And something with that big an area of effect…”

“… can have many unintended consequences,” Master Kiwiiks finished. “Beneficial, but also harmful.”

“Which is why we do field tests before using something of this scale. Which was what we were about to do.”

“But then you had a major data breach,” Master Kiwiiks said crossly. “You allowed these files, and others, to be stolen by common criminals.”

“I doubt these thieves even know what they have!” Doctor Tarnis shook his head confidently. "And all that data is encrypted."

"My people are pursuing every possible lead,” Var Suthra said. “But given the importance of those files, I need all the help I can get. We need to stop copies of those files being made, or their decryption!”

“Remember this, General,” Master Kiwiiks’ eyes flashed in his direction. “I have been asking around for months now, and you never said anything. I told you the Council Sensed great darkness growing, and you never breathed a word. If anything happens… it’s on your head.”

Kira had never seen her Master this upset before. Was the danger they had been sensing that bad? Ignorance was definitely not bliss.

“Peace, Bela,” Master Orgus placed a hand on her shoulder. “The first order of business is informing the Supreme Chancellor. You, the General, and I will go speak to him. Vajra, I want you to find the thief.”

“Forgive me, Master Jedi, but I have to insist we not hand such an important mission to an adolescent!” Doctor Tarnis protested.

“At least he didn’t say ‘child’,” Vajra whispered to Kira, who snorted.

“He can handle it. I wouldn’t have given him the job otherwise. To me, more important than finding the files is finding out how. We can’t afford any more security breaches.”

“I’ll be assigning you a team for backup,” Var Suthra told Vajra.

“What about me?” Kira asked.

“You stay here, Kira. Your security expertise might come in handy.”

“Ah, perfect timing!” Var Suthra said as a handsome man with dark skin burst into the room. “This is Agent Galen, Strategic Information Service. Agent, these young Jedi are Knight Varja and Padawan Kira Carsen. They will help you find the thief.”

Galen looked at Vajra with disbelief. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, right? She’s barely an adult! And he is just a child!”

“A Knight, too,” Kira added coolly.

“We need to get going, Agent. If you can settle this before we finish our meeting, I’ll throw a party at the Royale for you. Good luck!” And he walked away with both Masters in tow.

“Right. Right.” Galen glowered at the pair of them. “Listen here, children. This is serious business. If you screw this up, I’m going to make sure it’s never forgotten.”

“Got it,” Vajra’s reply was mild. “Now what have you got for us?”

“A lead on the thief. Thirty-two hours ago, a band of thieves raided our military storehouse. They stole a lot of arms, munitions, and datafiles for the Planet Prison Project. The thieves’ leader slipped up. Showed his face to a security cam. We identified him from our criminal database.” Agent Galen held up a hand projector, and a holo of a Rodian appeared. “Vistis. Smuggler. Petty thief. He’s currently staying with the so-called Migrant Merchants’ Guild.”

“Not an actual guild, I take it?”

“Lucky guess. They’re a nasty buncha criminals.”

“Why would alien gangsters rob a military storehouse?” Doctor Tarnis asked.

“Under their own steam, they probably wouldn’t. But if someone paid them to… perhaps by someone who can actually use any data…”

Tarnis paled. “Oh dear,” he stumbled, but Vajra caught him and led him to a chair. “I’m sorry,” the man looked gobsmacked. “I’m feeling… faint!”

“Get a medic in here, just in case,” Vajra suggested. “I’m heading out. Does Vistis have any backup?”

“His gang has been mostly captured. He’s the last one at large. Maybe the Guild might protect him. He’s in their territory after all.”

“Right. Contact me if you get the datafiles, and I’ll admit I was wrong about you. To the whole damn SIS.”

Vajra motioned to Kira, who jogged up to him. “Tarnis is more important than he seems. He’s the key to this ‘growing darkness’.”

Kira’s jaw dropped. He could Sense the ‘Growing darkness’? Damn, if his insight was that good, it was no wonder the Council had fallen over in their haste to promote him.

“I’ll not let him out of my sight. I won’t let you down.”

“Thank you. Come on, T7,” Vajra left with his faithful Astromech in tow.

#swtor #star wars #the old republic #fanfic #fanfiction #jedi knight #hero of tython

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whump-culture · 2 years

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So I have this Jedi Padawan OC named Grim Kennet, she's originally from our universe but ended up in Star Wars during The Clone Wars and became Obi-Wan's Padawan. I've been writing her story in The Clone Wars for over a year and here is pretty much all the whump that has happened (or will happen that I have planned) to Grim (that I can think of on the top of my head):

- Ship crash! (Many times please help her-)

- Her secret being (nearly) exposed to Anakin who she refuses to tell causing permanent damage for their relationship

- Being forced to fight her possessed girlfriend (then friend but they become girlfriends soon after this)

- Being captured and threatened (many times, again please help her-)

- Being thrown into a tree !

- Being tortured while undercover!!!

- Having others be tortured to break her (and Obi-Wan)

- Being tortured with force lightning after getting caught by a Sith Lord

- Getting hit with Force lightning while fighting a different Sith Lord only a few days later (x2)

- Getting sliced on the face with a lightsaber and then getting tortured with Force Lightning by the first Sith Lord

- Getting beat up and tortured by two other Sith after following Obi-Wan even though he told her not to follow him

- Getting cut with a lightsaber again this time on the shoulder leaving another scar

- Falling out of an exploding ship

- Crashing out a window with a jetpack

- Getting hit with Force lightning (again) (x2)

- Being force choked (x2)

- Getting thrown into a wall

- Arguing with Anakin so much it destroys their relationship (again)

- Feeling like she's lost and is going to die (two chapters in a row!)

- Getting hit in the face by General Grievous

- Actually losing

- Getting shot during Order 66

- Jumping off a cliff during Order 66

- Almost drowning in Order 66

- Honestly just Order 66....

- Returning home to see everyone dead because of Order 66

- Losing her arm in a fight with Anakin on Mustafar

- Being force choked (again)

- Being thrown into a wall (again)

- Being presumed and left for dead

- Watching Anakin burn alive and leaving him to live and suffer instead of killing him because she's so angry with him she doesn't see she's dooming the galaxy to deal with Vader

- Watching a(nother) person she cares about die

- Having to go into hiding and change her name

And that's only for The Clone Wars (in the one story). She goes through so much worse during the Empire but if I kept going it would get too long. (As if it isn't long already-)

And she's only a teenager throughout the entire story-

#Lady Whump #OC Whump #Teenager whump

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greatwyrmgold · 2 years

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Discovered your Graduation fic on ao3 and just wanted to say I loved it. Did you ever get any ideas on how Sy and Victoria would fit in that AU?

Nope! I didn't give that fic much thought after writing it.

For people who aren't Mx. Anonymous, "Graduation" is a super-short fanfic I wrote to reflect on Pact after it ended. It depicts Taylor, Blake, and Sy as siblings, with Blake having just graduated from high school and Sy about to start going.

(Don't ask why I decided to reflect in that way, I wrote it seven and a half years ago. I assume it made sense at the time.)

So putting some more thought into that weird fic I wrote seven and a half years ago...

First, keep in mind that Graduation!Taylor isn't really Taylor, Graduation!Blake isn't really Blake, and Graduation!Sy isn't really Sy. They're protagonist names applied to avatars representing their respective stories. That's the entire point of the story.

I have more thoughts, but I'm gonna put the TL;DR first: The core metaphor that "Graduation" is built on falls apart the more kids you add to the family, and breaks hard when you get to Pale. So sticking to Twig and Ward: Graduation!Sy would have been another good kid like Taylor, but one who didn't do much after high school, while Graduation!Victoria would have been some flavor of problem child.

One weird quirk of the...allegory? metaphor? symbolism?...is that each sibling is four years older than the next. After all, each graduates high school right before the next starts. This isn't impossible, of course; I know a trio of siblings four years apart like this. But the longer the chain of siblings, the more overtly weird it gets. If we cast Victoria as Sy's little sister and the Kennet trio as Victoria's little sisters, Taylor would be 30 when the trio enters high school. So yeah, the allegory or whatever breaks down if you keep that pattern going and pay any attention at all.

Sy, ironically, would end up as another respectable top student like Taylor. Almost however you look at it, Twig was a more successful work of literature than Pact. That said, the more time passes, the less I think about Twig. It's not that Twig doesn't hold up, it's just...I dunno. The Lambs don't stick in my mind the way that the Undersiders and Thorburns and Wardens and Kennet Council and so on do. I think part of the problem might be the Crown, but that's a topic for another time. This is about "Graduation". Much as Twig faded from the Wildbow community (relative to other Wildbow serials), Graduation!Sy would drift from his family. Not completely gone, but not close like Taylor was. Or maybe he'd just have peaked in high school, while Taylor was off doing some kind of emblematic successful-child stuff?

Wildbow seems to alternate his hits and his squelches. Ward, even more than Pact, was damned by comparison with Worm. At the same time, while some of the reasons Ward was derided are stupid, some are completely reasonable. So Graduation!Victoria would definitely be a problem child. How to characterize that problem-ness depends on what I identify its most significant problems are and how they could be personified into a single character. And that feels a little tangential to this post; I'm not planning to update "Graduation" at this time.

It's too early to make any definitive conclusions about Pale, but it definitely fits Wildbow's alternative hits and squelches. Not just that, but from where I'm sitting (having mostly drifted away from Reddit by the time Pale came along and not doing much with Tumblr until recently), it seems like Pale went and revitalized Pact fandom. That's a really weird thing to figure out how to personify! It's all the worse since Pale's lack of a single protagonist breaks the allegory open at the seams. Maybe it's best to ignore Pale for Graduation 2: Electric Bachelor's.

#random stuff #like really random this time #ask #au #I guess #wildbow #fanfic #anon ask

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neonthewrite · 2 years

Text

Friendship Progress

The GT July prompt today is "friendship" and Oh My Gosh how do I pick just one friendship to write about??? I ended up writing about Colfax and Adrian, my characters from the Trust Multiverse (co-created with @creatorofuniverses). This is set in the A Little More Trust AU, or really any AU where both of them are viri (tiny, for those of you who haven't read any of the Trust stories).

This one ended up being a little bit longer than most of my GT July shorts; not by too much, but just a heads up!

~~~

Adrian traversed the walls without really thinking too hard about the route. He knew the way to different areas in the house by memory, down to how many steps he and the other viri had installed in various places to move from level to level among the support boards, pipes, and other bones of the house hidden behind paint and drywall. Much of it had been put in place by his family; mother, father, aunts, uncle. Adrian had added extra pulley systems farther away from their house near the pantry. Almost anywhere anyone wanted to go in the house, they could get there with ease and, in Adrian’s opinion, style.

The negative space within the walls of a human home provided a surprising amount of space to work with; viri could go far in there without once needing to venture into the actual house where they were at risk of being spotted by a human.

This house had enough such space that, less than half a year ago, a new family of viri had moved in and settled on the other side of the house. The Hammonds had needed to move from their previous home rather suddenly, and Adrian’s family, the Kennets, were happy to accept them in their midst. Two of the Hammond kids were even close to Adrian in age - sixteen to his fourteen - something he thought he’d never encounter growing up as the only kid around.

Adrian was on his way to visit them with a few things weighing down his bag, some gifts sent over by his mom. As he walked, he buzzed with nervous energy; the older two kids, a pair of twins, always carried themselves with a certain confidence and intensity. It was intimidating even just thinking about it. By contrast, their little sister was much cheerier and had happily taken to having even more people around her to give her attention.

At length, he reached where the Hammonds had chosen to build up their home. Most of the building was there, with a few spots that needed better sealing or more framing to be complete, but it was a working shelter that had distinct rooms and would become a home soon enough.

Adrian knocked on the door, a hinged metal lid, and it made a strange little clanging noise to announce his arrival. Someone inside told him to come in, and he peeked into the main room before entering.

“Adrian, it’s nice to see you.” The greeting came from Carla, the mother of the Hammond family. She sat at their table with little Brigid, only four years old, on her lap. Gwendolyn, one of the twins, sat opposite her, and she held up a hand in a casual wave. Sounds in one of the curtained-off side rooms suggested Mr. Hammond and Colfax, the other twin, were working on some building in there.

“Hi,” Adrian greeted, already opening his bag as he stepped over to the table. “Um. Sorry to interrupt anything. My mom wanted to send a few things over, and I thought I might come and, well, hang around, maybe help out if there’s something that needs to be put together.”

Brigid piped up before her mother or sister could get a word in. “That’s for me?” she asked, eyeing the bundles Adrian pulled from his bag.

With a grin, he set aside some of the wrapped parcels of sticky tack and insulation fluff for the house and offered a piece of folded cloth to the girl, who grabbed it eagerly. He glanced at the girl’s mom. “My mom made her a new jacket. I hope you don’t mind.”

As Brigid unfolded the jacket to observe the small, colorful patches sewn into the back, Carla smiled gratefully. “Oh, that’s lovely, isn’t it dear? What do you tell Adrian for bringing that to you?”

Brigid beamed up at Adrian, clutching her new jacket close. “Thaaaaank you, Adriaaan,” she drawled, ending with a giggle. “It’s pretty!”

“That’s really nice,” Gwendolyn agreed. Then, she sent Adrian a small smile. “Did you really come out here to run the risk of being asked to help build something for us? You know dad will probably take you up on that offer.”

Adrian laughed lightly. “I don’t mind helping out. I kinda like building things, and I’ve never had a reason to help build a whole house before, so …” he tapered off into a shrug before he could ramble on too much.

Gwendolyn didn’t tease him like she sometimes teased her brother for whatever opportunity she could find. Instead, she looked through the building supplies Adrian had brought before putting the sticky tack (wrapped securely in wax paper) back in his hands. “If you insist, Adrian. I think they’ll want this in there; today we’re finally getting an actual ceiling on our room.”

“No more tent for us,” Brigid said, sounding like she was trying her best to have a grown-up conversation. Her pigtails and her seat on her mother’s lap offset the appearance a bit, but as a Hammond she could look about as serious as she pleased.

Adrian nodded. “That sounds great, I’ll go see if I can help.” With that, he went to the curtained off room to see what he could do.

The sight that greeted him gave him pause just past the doorway. It still surprised him, sometimes, seeing just how tall any of the Hammonds were. The women in the other room were both seated so the effect wasn’t as strong, but Colfax and his dad, Arthur, stood at the far corners of the room reaching up to place wide popsicle sticks atop the walls to act as a sturdier ceiling. Colfax was nearly six inches tall and his dad had cleared that height; to Adrian, who hadn’t cleared five inches tall yet (and whose family tended to stand on the short side), the Hammonds cut intimidating figures by stature alone, to say nothing of the intense set of their brows or their dark eyes.

Even so, he recovered as quickly as he could to cough politely. “Hey, Colfax, hey Arthur. I came by to see if you needed help with anything.”

They looked over their shoulders in unison, and Adrian waved cheerfully. Colfax didn’t say anything, but his dad grinned in greeting. “Hey, Adrian. We won’t say no to any help with this - what’cha got there?”

Adrian peeled back part of the wax paper to show off the light grey lump of sticky, rubbery clay. “Something to help keep those sticks in place better, I’d guess. Gwendolyn said you might want this. Brought it over with a few other things for the house. It’s starting to come together really nicely!”

“That’s perfect,” Arthur said, glancing at Colfax and nodding in Adrian’s direction. “Colfax, why don’t you help him divide some of that up into portions we need. I’ll get some more of these shingles in place.”

Colfax let go of the piece of the ceiling he was holding up, making sure his dad wouldn’t drop it, before beckoning Adrian over to take a seat on one of the beds in the room. He sat a respectful distance away on the bed and didn’t really meet Adrian’s gaze, but when Adrian settled to a seat Colfax finally said something in greeting. “Adrian. Hello.”

He always seemed so distant, and Adrian, used to friendlier personalities, felt like hitting a wall every time he started a conversation with the guy. Still, he didn’t want to let it stop him from making an effort; he could be friends with Colfax, same as with the other Hammonds. It might take a little bit of learning to get it right, but he’d do it, intimidation or not. “Hi, Colfax. Let me just -” he paused while trying to divide the lump of sticky tack into two. It was tougher than he’d thought. Once he had two pieces, he handed one off to Colfax. “How are you?”

Colfax hummed noncommittally as he set the tack on his lap and started pulling off smaller portions of it, rolling them into spheres ready to be put to use sealing up any holes in the new roof. “Tired. Didn’t sleep much.”

Adrian tilted his head, trying and mostly failing to catch Colfax’s eye. “That’s too bad,” he said, as gently as he could. They’d had similar conversations before in previous attempts at small talk. Colfax didn’t take well to someone feeling bad for him. “Wanna go on a walk later? After we get this stuff sorted out, maybe. Then you’ll probably be plenty tired and you’ll sleep like a rock.”

Colfax’s gaze flickered his way before returning to the task on his lap. “Where to?”

Adrian grinned. Coming from Colfax, that terse bit of curiosity might as well be a beaming endorsement of the idea. “Well, I know you guys have been sticking to the first floor for now, for the most part,” he mused. “We don’t go up there too often either, since the humans spend so much time in their rooms up there. But there’s some good spots to check out for stuff that gets dropped. And there’s a vent up there that I sometimes use to look at the backyard. You can see the park from there, and a bunch of neat stuff.”

Colfax was quiet for a time, and Adrian gave him the space to think about it. The two of them had a decent pile of sticky tack lumps between them before Colfax finally responded. “I’ll go. After this.”

Adrian smiled and nodded and did his best to school his expression and not look too excited over his progress towards friendship. “Sure. It’ll be fun.”

#gtjuly #gtjuly2022 #mywriting #trust au #a little more trust #adrian kennet #colfax hammond #viri!adrian #viri!colfax #backstory #viri #giant tiny #g/t #in the walls

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sponsoredbydestiny · 2 years

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If I write an Otherverse fic, (which almost feels obligatory after sinking so many words into OC-crafting,) I'm inclined to have the dervishes' Familiar be the primary viewpoint character, even though their apprentice would be the narrative center. Much as I love the Kennet trio, the interludes with Other POVs are where Wildbow really wilds out. We couldn't feel the full weight of Verona's transhumanist impulse without all these portrayals of morphological and psychological alternativity. I think a story where the Other is default and the humans get the interludes would be a fruitful shift in the center of gravity.

[Which WB characters would be fitting cameos? Rook is a nosy globetrotter; it'd be fun to have her roll up and read my Other OC for filth, perhaps right before xe caves and becomes a Familiar.

None of Pale's practitioners are a good fit: the only ones we know of who travel widely, (Bristow, Durocher, etc.) are too hot shit to bother with my mid-level OCs.

Oh, maybe Ted Havens happens to breeze by on his 1001st loop? If speedrunning has taught me anything, it's that seemingly asinine actions can be remarkably useful if you have a deep understanding of the underlying systems.]

#pale web serial #wildbow #over half of pact/pale fics on ao3 are tagged 'original characters'#love it #you can't be mad when there's already millions of words about the canon cast

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pixiejens · 7 years

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Fog Upon the Barrow-Downs

Their going was very slow. To prevent their getting separated and wandering in different directions they went in file, with Frodo leading. Sam was behind him, and after him came Pippin, and then Merry. The valley seemed to stretch on endlessly. Suddenly Frodo saw a hopeful sign. On either side ahead a darkness began to loom through the mist; and he guessed that they were at last approaching the gap in the hills, the north-gate of the Barrow-downs. If they could pass that, they would be free.

'Come on! Follow me!' he called back over his shoulder, and he hurried forward. But his hope soon changed to bewilderment and alarm. The dark patches grew darker, but they shrank; and suddenly he saw, towering ominous before him and leaning slightly towards one another like the pillars of a headless door, two huge standing stones. He could not remember having seen any sign of these in the valley, when he looked out from the hill in the morning. He had passed between them almost before he was aware: and even as he did so darkness seemed to fall round him. His pony reared and snorted, and he fell off. When he looked back he found that he was alone: the others had not followed him. 'Sam!' he called. 'Pippin! Merry! Come along! Why don't you keep up?'

There was no answer. Fear took him, and he ran back past the stones shouting wildly: 'Sam! Sam! Merry! Pippin!' The pony bolted into the mist and vanished. From some way off, or so it seemed, he thought he heard a cry: 'Hoy! Frodo! Hoy!' It was away eastward, on his left as he stood under the great stones, staring and straining into the gloom. He plunged off in the direction of the call, and found himself going steeply uphill.

As he struggled on he called again, and kept on calling more and more frantically; but he heard no answer for some time, and then it seemed faint and far ahead and high above him. 'Frodo! Hoy!' came the thin voices out of the mist: and then a cry that sounded like help, help! often repeated, ending with a last help! that trailed off into a long wail suddenly cut short. He stumbled forward with all the speed he could towards the cries; but the light was now gone, and clinging night had closed about him, so that it was impossible to be sure of any direction. He seemed all the time to be climbing up and up.

Only the change in the level of the ground at his feet told him when he at last came to the top of a ridge or hill. He was weary, sweating and yet chilled. It was wholly dark.

'Where are you?' he cried out miserably.

There was no reply. He stood listening. He was suddenly aware that it was getting very cold, and that up here a wind was beginning to blow, an icy wind. A change was coming in the weather. The mist was flowing past him now in shreds and tatters. His breath was smoking, and the darkness was less near and thick. He looked up and saw with surprise that faint stars were appearing overhead amid the strands of hurrying cloud and fog. The wind began to hiss over the grass.

He imagined suddenly that he caught a muffled cry, and he made towards it; and even as he went forward the mist was rolled up and thrust aside, and the starry sky was unveiled. A glance showed him that he was now facing southwards and was on a round hill-top, which he must have climbed from the north. Out of the east the biting wind was blowing. To his right there loomed against the westward stars a dark black shape. *A great barrow stood there.*

’Where are you?' he cried again, both angry and afraid.

'Here!' said a voice, deep and cold, that seemed to come out of the ground. 'I am waiting for you!'

'No!' said Frodo; but he did not run away. His knees gave, and he fell on the ground. Nothing happened, and there was no sound. Trembling he looked up, in time to see a tall dark figure like a shadow against the stars. It leaned over him. He thought there were two eyes, very cold though lit with a pale light that seemed to come from some remote distance. Then a grip stronger and colder than iron seized him. The icy touch froze his bones, and he remembered no more.

When he came to himself again, for a moment he could recall nothing except a sense of dread. Then suddenly he knew that he was imprisoned, caught hopelessly; he was in a barrow. A Barrow-wight had taken him, and he was probably already under the dreadful spells of the Barrow- wights about which whispered tales spoke. He dared not move, but lay as he found himself: flat on his back upon a cold stone with his hands on his breast.

But though his fear was so great that it seemed to be part of the very darkness that was round him, he found himself as he lay thinking about Bilbo Baggins and his stories, of their jogging along together in the lanes of the Shire and talking about roads and adventures. There is a seed of courage hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid hobbit, wailing for some final and desperate danger to make it grow. Frodo was neither very fat nor very timid; indeed, though he did not know it, Bilbo (and Gandalf) had thought him the best hobbit in the Shire. He thought he had come to the end of his adventure, and a terrible end, but the thought hardened him. He found himself stiffening, as if for a final spring; he no longer felt limp like a helpless prey.

As he lay there, thinking and getting a hold of himself, he noticed all at once that the darkness was slowly giving way: a pale greenish light was growing round him. It did not at first show him what kind of a place he was in, for the light seemed to be coming out of himself, and from the floor beside him, and had not yet reached the roof or wall. He turned, and there in the cold glow he saw lying beside him Sam, Pippin, and Merry. They were on their backs, and their faces looked deathly pale; and they were clad in white. About them lay many treasures, of gold maybe, though in that light they looked cold and unlovely. On their heads were circlets, gold chains were about their waists, and on their fingers were many rings. Swords lay by their sides, and shields were at their feet. But across their three necks lay one long naked sword.

Suddenly a song began: a cold murmur, rising and falling. The voice seemed far away and immeasurably dreary, sometimes high in the air and thin, sometimes like a low moan from the ground. Out of the formless stream of sad but horrible sounds, strings of words would now and again shape themselves: grim, hard, cold words, heartless and miserable. The night was railing against the morning of which it was bereaved, and the cold was cursing the warmth for which it hungered. Frodo was chilled to the marrow. After a while the song became clearer, and with dread in his heart he perceived that it had changed into an incantation:

Cold be hand and heart and bone,

and cold be sleep under stone:

never mare to wake on stony bed,

never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.

In the black wind the stars shall die,

and still on gold here let them lie,

till the dark lord lifts his hand

over dead sea and withered land.

He heard behind his head a creaking and scraping sound. Raising himself on one arm he looked, and saw now in the pale light that they were in a kind of passage which behind them turned a corner. Round the corner a long arm was groping, walking on its fingers towards Sam, who was lying nearest, and towards the hilt of the sword that lay upon him.

At first Frodo felt as if he had indeed been turned into stone by the incantation. Then a wild thought of escape came to him. He wondered if he put on the Ring, whether the Barrow-wight would miss him, and he might find some way out. He thought of himself running free over the grass, grieving for Merry, and Sam, and Pippin, but free and alive himself. Gandalf would admit that there had been nothing else he could do.

But the courage that had been awakened in him was now too strong: he could not leave his friends so easily. He wavered, groping in his pocket, and then fought with himself again; and as he did so the arm crept nearer. Suddenly resolve hardened in him, and he seized a short sword that lay beside him, and kneeling he stooped low over the bodies of his companions. With what strength he had he hewed at the crawling arm near the wrist, and the hand broke off; but at the same moment the sword splintered up to the hilt. There was a shriek and the light vanished. In the dark there was a snarling noise.

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I make Long Barrows my regular haunts when I travel to England as often as I can, but West Kennet is my favorite; because it's the Barrow-Downs there if there ever was one and that chapter springs to life so vividly every time I visit.

<3 u England

Photo by me, 2017

#travel

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environmentalafterthought · 6 years

Photo

Sept 21 - Consider this one a PSA. A PSA on PAA; what’s PAA you ask, well as the fine folks of Canton, Georgia just found out, its a chemical that somehow contributes to the creation of deboned chickens but apparently tends to go boom too. That because the acidic compound is also an organic oxidizer which means it has a bubbly personality that when excited effervesces causing quite the scene. Here, a shipping Truck popping in to the facility appeared to shake the cardboard box that had a frowny face on it rather than a smile (or was it just upside down… could have been the problem) a bit too hard before asking for a last name after the desk clerk scribbled on the electronic pad they carry for receipt purposes. Four folks (assuming one of them is that poor FedEx driver) ended up in the hospital for breathing issues, which suggests to me this stuff got airborne which means there was probably a small boom. So, this careless handling of a rather touchy substance that is used across a diverse range of industries subsequently caused a shut down of the dead-end interstate I-575 for over two miles, the same interstate that gets you about as far north of Atlanta as civilization can bear for all those preppers that also have to commute to their daily grind presumably not much further than Roswell cause any further down and you got to be asking yourself, Honey Boo, maybe we ought to just move on down to Buckhead and become yuppies like we always wanted.

At any rate, the purpose of all this was that just a little batch of some PAA, also known as peracetic acid, or more properly peroxyacetic acid, an organic peroxide which has two great tastes that sometimes appear to be a deadly combination, caused some almost inconceivable chaos for those daily commuters. The substance is generally referred to as a biocide which is just a fancy way of saying it kills things that are alive but instead of just being bad for your health like some of the more common ones like glutaraldehyde, PAA also has the added benefit of being a hardcore oxidizer, so hardcore they put it in hydrogen peroxide just to make it chill! The food grade stuff like at this chicken farm is usually not so hardcore to cause this kind of chaos unless getting the high grade stuff and making your own mix is your style.

And frankly, I would have been more than happy to say hey Pilgrims Pride, at least you aren't in the news for contaminating my chicken with salmonella, listeria, and mad cow disease (also please let me know if I will get a peanut allergy from this product or not!) all in one shot; I am guessing this PAA has something to do with it. I would have been more than happy to let this one go if it didn't appear to be somewhat of a trend these days, since just literally the day before the same thing happened this time at a mushroom farm, cause you know, fungus, in beautiful Kennet Square, Pennsylvania, which is probably just far enough away from Philly (and just close enough to Wilmington) to be considered that part of PA that isn't Philly or Pitts, and so is OK to just consider Alabama, causing a total of nine workers to go to the hospital in the area where they sanitize those cute little mushroom heads (and the only surprising thing to me here is that it takes more workers to sanitize mushrooms then it does to cut the head off a chicken). And OK, that may just be an odd coincidence, but then how do you explain that ANOTHER chicken farm just three months before, this one just across the border in majestic Selbyville, DE, over 300 gallons of PAA spilled and this time oddly enough apparently it was just hanging out in the parking lot. Weird, JUST like in Canton?! And again only four workers got sick at this chicken plant (they say it happens in threes so that will be a total of 12 chicken employees sick when its all said and done, keep an eye out for the next one).

But oh, no, we are not done yet. Because then, just two months before that in May, across the pond (no the other one on the western side) at a hospital in Melbourne, AU, a woman who had just been rushed in for an emergency C-section (as opposed to those planned ones), was apparently NOT exposed along with the hospital staff to a spill of just 200 mL of the stuff, which is along the lines of a thimble’s worth causing them to evacuate to another part of the hospital to keep on with that baby-birthing stuff. See, not only does it make chicken and mushrooms yummy, but it ALSO kills the heck out of any microbes that might get stuck on all those medical scopes doctors like to stick inside people. That makes sense, in that application you want the high-grade stuff, but I guess just preferably not near the people that you also want to make sure get born without any major hiccups.

And by the way, we aren’t done yet, because now across the other pond, the one you probably were thinking of properly the first time, back in December of 2017, PAA was spilled at a Eli Lily facility, and this is where things start to get super weird because all they do here is work on “Global Business Initiatives” and process time cards or something, so why they were getting a delivery (yes, this happened in the parking lot AGAIN!), this time 200 litres of the stuff, which is something like 100 gallons or so, again basically shut down all roadway commutes from Cork to anywhere but Cork heading east. And if you thought those stiff upper lips on the other island werent going to have to worry about all this, they saw their OWN spill of another 200 litres of the stuff, this time appropriately enough at a crisps packaging plant in sunny Leicester (apparently they just clean the floors with the stuff there) the month before and nobody suffered even a lick which is probably what has been keeping everyone’s guard down since all these started happening one after the other.

Now just think, what will it take for us to start saying, hmmm, this PAA by FedEx thing doesnt seem to be working too well. Also, having it sitting around just waiting to be poured out in bulk, doesnt seem to be working to well either. Because again, like a canary in a coalmine, way back in July of 2017, we could have nipped this in the bud when a it was reported that a water treatment plant in Hoboken New Jersey and colocated with a NJ light rail station caused a shutdown of the whole system when apparently a blue-collar guy at the plant got a bad whiff of a spill that caused mass hysteria for two hours during morning commute.

I don’t know what else to say, PAA sounds like some bad stuff, so next time you are sitting in morning gridlock and they do not know when it will be cleared because of some chemical that got loose at the local chicken farm, hospital, water treatment plant, or who knows where else this stuff is getting pooled or delivered, just know you have big PAA to thank for your lost productivity.

#environmentalafterthought #biocide #chemicalsnafu #paawatch

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thechaoticfanartist · 2 years

Text

"we didn't kill him"

gen

fandom: star wars

characters: obi-wan kenobi, grim kennet (oc)

relationship: obi-wan kenobi & grim kennet (oc)

post order 66, obi-wan is called ben, grim is called rue, mentioned anakin skywalker, angst

summary:

what if grim told obi-wan the truth about anakin?

“Dad, we need to talk,” Rue said quietly. She looked at him with broken eyes, and it seemed she had been crying not long earlier. Her voice almost trembled.

Ben looked at his daughter with concern, “is everything all right, Rue?”

She didn’t reply. She just sat down across from Obi-Wan. “No, and you’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you.”

“Rue?” He said concerned.

“Ben, we didn't kill him,” she whispered quietly.

His heart almost dropped. She didn’t have to say his name. “What do you mean? You were there, you saw him burning. We killed him,” he denied. Just like when she had first told him Anakin had fallen.

“We didn’t see him die, though. We left him to die - well you did - but he didn’t die.”

“And you have known, you knew this when it was happening.”

“I did.”

“You knew he would live, and you didn’t change that?”

“I tried too at first, but you know how that went,” she replied. Referring to her metal arm.

“But you had another chance again. You could have done it when he was burning. You could’ve ended it then.”

“I was too angry. Ben, I went to kill him but when he was burning I couldn’t do it. Not because he was once my brother too, but because…I think part of me wanted him to suffer a fate worse than death.”

Ben didn’t know what to think about what Rue told him. “You knew,” he said again. Unable to say anything else. “You knew,” he repeated. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He was crying now.

“I wanted to spare you the pain I live with.”

“Spare me the pain?” He laughed a broken kind. “Rue I have lived thinking I killed my padawan for three years. That I killed him. Now you’re telling me I failed, that he’s alive, and suffering because of it? That you knew this the whole time, and did nothing about it. That you left him to suffer, when I left him to die.”

“I’m sorry, Ben. Really I am, but there’s nothing that can be done now.”

“No there isn’t,” Ben agreed. He bowed his head as more tears fell. “You knew. You knew and let it happen.”

“I did.”

“How many more people will Vader kill? How many has he killed since Mustafar?”

“Countless.”

“And you knew this.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t kill him?”

“Yes.”

“You knew what he would do still, and let him live knowingly?”

“I did.”

“Rue,” he said, looking at her through tear filled eyes. “What did you do?”

“I…” she trailed off as she realized what Obi-Wan was saying. “I doomed so many people. So many worlds. In my own anger at one man…I doomed the galaxy.” She began to cry. “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing that can be done now.”

“I suppose not. The past stays the same, it’s the future that is in motion.”

“You should have told me sooner.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed) : @padme--amygdala @soclonely @mrfandomwars @jgvfhl @theleldaofzeldablog @milfspectre1 @togrutanduin @jedi-valjean @one-real-imonkey @traygaming @roseofalderaan @keoxus @tranakin-thighhighwalker @veiled-in-stars @sentineljedi @spicysucculentz @purgetrooperfox @amelia-song-pond @kohtoyah @saturnsokas @thejediprincessqueenofnaboo

#grim kennet #obi wan kenobi #grim and obi wan #my writing #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #pain and suffering lets go!

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tuinltd-blog · 7 years

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Hello everyone!

I know it hasn’t been long since the Lennart Show Site Build post.. But I had so much fun writing it I just couldnt wait much longer for the next one!

For those who have been to our showsite, you should remember the Stig Gazebo Log Cabin that was to your left. We’re giving this area an upgrade by replacing it with the Kennet Log Cabin! (It fitted well with our current base and decking) Unfortunately our apprentice sales assistant Andrew was needed in the office for this build, so its all up to our experienced installers Wayne and Phillip to install this beauty!

As I like to stress in my posts, organisation is very important to save time when building a Log Cabin, so I was more than willing to help organise and lay out the parts needed to start installing the Kennet.

You’ll thank me later guys!

Now these two didn’t waste any time with installing this cabin, they headed off to an amazing start. Leaving no log behind! (even the small ones at the end of the gazebo that I found amusing).

They screwed down the first log to ensure that the cabin was secure.

And they’re off!

They’re tiny and adorable!

This was taken what feels like just minutes after…

The next thing I knew the windows were fitted and the walls were getting taller than me!

During this process of watching and keeping warm (thank you to the Lennart overhang for keeping me dry!) watching these guys became a trance.. Most of the time they didn’t even need to talk, one turns around and the other has a mallet ready for them, it was almost magical? If you have heard of a bromance, this is what I call the true sight of it.

Once the walls reached the last log the long 5m log was installed to the front of what will become the Gazebo, to keep this log up there is a post that’ll go to the other end to hold everything up (no pressure, support post). And this is where things turned technical… As you can see from the first image below, the decking is too high. This is because the decking was laid for the Stig Log Cabin, which is shorter in height.

There were spirit levels, a state of “Up a bit.. No, too high..!” and a chisel involved with resolving this problem, but not too long after the boys managed to do it! And now the gazebo will be level with the Log Cabin.

Do you see how the decking was too high?

So using a brick and levelling the gravel underneath, we made the post level with the cabin in order to help us with the next part.

Technical…

Voila! Much better and level!

The next step was installing the apex, which from writing the last post I was thoroughly educated on.

Apex.. Not Perspex!

Then the guys stopped for a break, which is great until.. It sunk in that all I have done during these stages was organise the logs, stand under the Lennart and take photos.. Which in their eyes, immediately made me the delegated coffee maker (I made the coffee a little weaker than usual so I wouldnt have to do another coffee run anytime soon hehe).

With coffee consumed and plans revised they were once more at it again- with no signs of stopping their speed anytime soon! Their next plan of action was the continuation of the Gazebo.. Now at the beginning of this I was confused by the cut of this corner section, they’re very slanted and I was concerned there would be issues with interlocking them.. But turns out I was wrong, just a few seconds longer than any other log to make sure it was all aligned!

I like to call this the ‘coffee cam’

I was puzzled if it would all interlock together, but it does!

Its probably best to keep close to the plans at this point.

The purlins for the Kennet were ones I’ve never seen before, with these two circular ends on either side of the wall, the rest of the purlins were installed by interlocking one end to the wall, and screwing the other end to the circular pieces:

The slant on the end allows you to easily position and screw the purlin to the main section.

Thank you to Philip for taking the high shots.. I’m not brave enough to get on the roof just yet!

Then, you guessed it.. The installation of the roof boards. This seemed to me like it would take longer to complete compared to the Lennart, so I left the guys in peace while they started the roof. In the meantime, I was writing the Lennart Show Build post.

With a few breaks away from the computer every now and then, I was sucessfully able to capture their progress on the roof boards:

Be careful up there!

Thank you again to Philip for the high shots!

Now, the part where I learnt some things.. Number one, the smell of timber is very pleasant (no lie). Number two, the small nails in your general fixing kit are called Clout Nails.. And are for fixing the shingles to the roof boards! For the Kennet we decided to use the Brown Rounded Shingles from our shingle selection. In order to save time (and build the bromance) Wayne started securing the shingles while Philip finished up the rest of the roof boards, before helping finishing off the shingles.

These things!

This design will finish off the cabin nicely I think!

Unfortunately the guys ended up finishing the cabin in my absence for writing (“Let me know when you finish the roof and start the doorframe and overhand thingy” I said.. But noo”) But I did get Wayne to go through the process of how they finished the cabin off: They installed the door frame the same way they did with the Lennart, and installed the triangle overhang by placing it down from above and screwing it to secure it:

And with those last two pieces to the puzzle, everything tied in together beautifully! All ready for treatment.

Stunning!

With some treatment and maybe new decking.. Visitors will be blown away!

Amazing work guys.. The Kennet Log Cabin was slightly more complex to install in my opinion (with the gazebo being a main aspect of the install), but definitely not impossible! I wonder what the next show site cabin will be..

To become thoroughly prepared for your Log Cabin Install, I highly recommend that you read Richard’s Fitting Advice Pages. You will also find more specific articles that may help when you look at the ‘Important Information’ tab on our Log Cabin pages.

If you haven’t read my first post about the Lennart Show Site Build Andrew and myself went though, you should certainly do so 😉

For more posts like this, from a customer’s point of view check out our selection of Customer Pictorial Reviews.

Kennet Show Site Build Hello everyone! I know it hasn't been long since the Lennart Show Site Build post.. But I had so much fun writing it I just couldnt wait much longer for the next one!

#installation of a log cabin #log cabin #showsite #Tuin

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captainbadfoot-blog · 7 years

Text

Man Vs Ultra

The Round Reading Ultra 2017

To begin I should state that I can’t remember why, specifically, I entered the RRUM. It might be because it was the inaugural event, or because it was 31 miles (much less than the other ultras I’ve completed) or both, or another reason entirely, but I did find myself questioning my motives while out on the course last Saturday. I knew I wouldn’t be able to run the whole way due to insufficient training and injury. I was biting off more than I could chew, but maybe my original thinking was that even if I did get around slowly I would still get around, and that was the important thing. Fine. I’m happy with that.

Despite the lack of physical preparation, I had planned the rest of the weekend well, organising travel from London, accommodation and working out how to get from the Premier Inn to the event start on the Friday evening to collect the race info, as well as what time to get up on the Saturday morning etc. I had also spent a lot of time in the weeks prior to the event going over the course and having a good luck at all the sections that were viewable on Google Streetview to familiarise myself with landmarks and to help avoid taking a wrong turn. This was definitely a good idea, as I found that several times out on the course I recognised places and remembered where I needed to go. Added to this were the detailed instructions and maps given out by the organisers, the proliferation of very useful arrows at various points along the course, and being able to follow other runners. I had the route installed on my Garmin watch too, so there was never any real danger of going wrong. I almost took a wrong turn at one point, but that was it. The arrow stickers in particular made navigation uncomplicated. For most of the second half of the route I relied solely on these, and my faith was rewarded.

At about 7am I grabbed my gear and walked from the Premier Inn to the start of the race at the Wokingham Waterside Centre via the path along the River Kennet. When I reached the centre I had something to eat and drink with the other runners and made some last minute adjustments to kit. There was a definite sense of anticipation, with a few runners looking contemplative, wandering around near the start line, no doubt focussing on the task ahead. The thirty-odd 100km runners had set off two hours earlier at 6am, but their ghosts lingered – there was a feeling like we had been left behind, were late to the party, and maybe that too made people eager to get going.

At about five minutes to 8am we were called to assemble at the start line for a short race brief from one of the event organisers. If I forget to say it later on, I’ll say it here – the event felt very well organised and executed. I’m sure there was a hell of a lot for the team to think about and keep track of, but they did it without any obvious stress or panic, which can’t have been easy.

With no delay all 90+ of us we were counted down and sent on our way. I tucked into a small group and took it easy, thankful that most people didn’t seem bothered about getting off to a fast start. The first stretch, along the Thames from the waterside centre to Tilehurst, was nice and steady with no real obstacles and, naturally, flat. Rain had been forecast for later but this was hard to believe given how bright and warm it was. We reached the point where the Thames Path leaves the river and ascends to the Oxford Road via steps and a footbridge. Turning right at the top there was a short run along the road before diverting into trees then a housing estate. My right Achilles tendon which had been causing me problems for a while, and which had flared up during the small run to and from the waterside centre the previous evening wasn’t causing me any problems so far, but as we continued on and I saw the road continuing uphill, I wondered how long my luck would hold out. At a roundabout we left Nursery Gardens and headed onto Purley Rise, everyone calling out to those behind them if a car was coming. I’ve noticed before that in ultras, more than in other races, people are far more inclined to think about others instead of just themselves. It’s almost a team spirit, with everyone wanting everyone else to get through and finish the event. The fairly long stretch along Beech Road led to a turning that took us away from residential roads and into fields, a lovely section of the course that, despite the growing attention from the sun, was a joy to run. I wasn’t keeping track of the distance, so I was pleasantly surprised to come to a spot I recognised from recce-ing the course on Google – the playground just before Calcot Community Centre, aka Feed Point 1. The first nine miles were in the bag.

I headed in, filled my water bottle (I only emptied one on the first section), had some Swiss Roll and flapjack, then left, walking first then jogging toward the gap in the hedge and Bath Road. Checkpoints are always a welcome sight on an ultra, and I only ever focus on the next one – I never think about the finish until I’ve left the last checkpoint. Bite-sized chunks are what it’s all about, otherwise such a distance can be overwhelming. I also try not to spend too long at checkpoints, particularly the first few, as I like to save any dawdling for the end of the event when I’ll be more tired and need the break more. Indeed, on this occasion I spent more time at checkpoints as the event wore on, but never felt like I stayed too long. And I should point out that all the checkpoints were well-stocked and manned by very friendly and encouraging volunteers.

Onwards from Feed Point 1 I was able to navigate from my memory of the route on Google, though shortly after coming off the roundabout I nearly went wrong, but thanks to another runner was steered in the correct direction, returning the favour not long afterwards when we reached Beansheaf Community Centre where the arrow marker was harder to spot. This section was shorter, only 5 miles or so, and was another pleasant stretch that followed Holy Brook and the River Kennet. But by the end of it I was finding myself already starting to walk in small increments. I decided I would run as much as I could to at least Feed Point 2, then even if I had to walk the rest of the course I should still make it back by my desired finish time of 3pm.

Feed Point 2 was at the Green Park Business Park. I filled my bottles, downed some more food and cola, then headed off, feeling fatigued now but not really surprised since my training hadn’t been enough to see me through the whole event at running speed. I tried to keep the runners ahead of me in view, but was soon on my own for the first time as I followed the narrow, enclosed, tree-lined track alongside the vast Tesco distribution centre on one side and the roaring M4 on the other. Eventually the track opened out and brought me to the almost elaborate pedestrian/cycle overpass which eventually deposited me on the Basingstoke Road. There were runners ahead of me again now, so I followed some distance behind, turning onto Church Lane then Hyde End Lane. After a fair distance I saw a runner up ahead motioning to the turn off to the left, so I waved in thanks before he disappeared and not long afterwards arrived there myself, heading across fields again before reaching another residential area and re-joining Church Lane. Shortly after this, while running up Oatlands Road, I started to feel a pain in the quads on my right leg, which seconds later became full cramp, making me stop, then kneel down on the ground in an effort to straighten the muscle out. This must have been quite a sight, and I had to reassure several helpful fellow runners that I was fine before getting back up and walking on. About ten minutes later I tried running again and the muscle seemed to have sorted itself out. My hydration and nutrition should have been fine, so I put the cramp down to no stretching before the race, and generally not preparing my legs for what I needed them to do.

The next stretch was a long one, with myself and a couple of other runners taking our time running and walking in turn along wooded lanes and farm paths. It was still warm, and again I wondered if we would avoid the rain altogether. Along Gypsy Lane a couple had set up their own feed point (‘especially for David,’ according to the sign), and not long afterwards I came to Mole Road, knowing that Feed Point 3 was very close. I crossed over the roundabout and entered Bearwood Recreation Ground, finding the checkpoint at Winnersh Community Centre. Here there were generous and tasty chocolate covered flapjacks and salted peanuts (I think I was craving salt at this point). I hung around for a bit longer here, using the loo and chatting to the volunteers. Again I remarked on the forecast rain missing us, but regretted these words shortly after leaving the checkpoint when it did indeed finally start to rain. I put on my ultra-light Salomon top. It isn’t fully waterproof but it did the job, although I was prepared to use the waterproof top I had with me if I absolutely had to. Ahead was another stretch I recognized from Googling the route. When I reached the Walter Arms pub I turned left, knowing there was a long road section now along Sadler’s End and Sadler’s Lane.

Thankfully, even though the rain was intensifying I could see the skies clearing, and not long after running under the busy M4 and turning off down Woodward Close on to Watmore Lane the rain subsided. My legs weren’t getting any better, but I was alternating walking with running, surprised that I had actually done this well. Robin Hood Lane took me over the A329 and remembering this stretch from research I crossed over, found the lane parallel to the road and backtracked toward the A329, following the lane around to the right at the end, passing Mungell’s Pond and soon coming to the car park where a group of people (possibly friends or relatives of another runner) congratulated me and wished me well as I headed into Dinton Pastures.

Before the event I had been deliberating over whether to wear road or trail shoes. Some discussion on Facebook helped me come to the decision to wear road shoes as there was more road than was originally thought, however I (and no doubt other runners in the same position) questioned this decision on the Dinton Pastures stretch of the course. It was a beautiful section, winding around White Swan and Black Swan lakes, Heron’s Water and following the River Loddon, but after the rain shower the path was more than a little bit slippery. The positive side of this was that I discovered that running on it was a lot easier than walking, so it encouraged me to get moving again, and before too long I was out the other side, emerging onto Whistley Mill Lane, turning left to cross over the River Loddon, soon taking a path to the side to, thankfully, get off the road before entering a field near Copperbridge Brook and crossing that to soon reach the Land’s End Pub. Ignoring the delights of the pub (a good sit down would have been more tempting than a pint at that point) I turned left and followed Park Lane, knowing that Feed Point 4 wasn’t far away now.

Sure enough I reached the Piggott School and saw the checkpoint set up not far away from the road, so I headed down, had my number taken and helped myself to some more cola, Swiss Roll and flapjack. I filled my bottles again too, but wasn’t worried about nutrition now as there were only around four more miles to do. I chatted with the marshals for a few minutes, telling them how well the course had been marked out and how enjoyable it had been, then headed off just as another runner was arriving. Back on Park Lane I followed it down to and over the roundabout, turning left onto the Old Bath Road and following that to the next roundabout and along the A4 until the point where the course crosses it. Once on the other side I remembered that this was a fairly long stretch of hard, pavement walking, but that I was pretty much now in Sonning, and once on the river would only have a mile or so to do before reaching the finish. I tried to run again but only managed a few minutes as the legs weren’t having it. After turning off to the right into a residential estate I heard then saw, perched in a tree, a sizeable bird of prey. It sounded like there were a few more around, kestrels maybe, no doubt waiting for me or another runner to give up and collapse so they could have something meaty to peck on.

A few minutes later and I was passing quaint old cottages, and came to St Andrew’s Church which I remembered from walking the Thames Path in May this year. Unfortunately on entering the church yard I must have missed an arrow, as I followed it down the right side of the church and into someone’s front drive. Instead of backtracking I just walked to the road, then down to the river, knowing I would be on the river path if I had gone the right way anyway, and was soon leaving Sonning behind.

The sky had been darkening for the past twenty minutes or so and I had been moving faster in the hope that I could get to the finish before it started raining again, but no such luck. I, along with a few walkers and a father and daughter in a dinghy got caught out as it started to drizzle again, and as I reached the Thames Valley Park Nature Reserve I saw the finish in the distance and so started to run again. Only a few seconds later the cramp in my right leg returned and I was on the floor again trying to straighten the muscle, no doubt to the bemusement of the older couple walking behind me. Typical – neither the rain nor the cramp could wait five minutes for me to get to the end. Again – if the cramp sounds a bit odd it shouldn’t - I knew I wasn’t fully prepared for the ordeal I was unleashing on my poor legs, but I hadn’t planned on a great performance, so I can’t moan too much. Once my leg had quit complaining I walked on along the river and then as I entered the final straight risked a bit of a run and managed to keep the cramp at bay until over the line.

My exhausted body now had a nice medal hanging from it, and I had a drink and a chat with the marshals before heading up the steps to the nerve centre of the race to collect my bag. I chatted with a few other runners and ate a very welcome Danish pastry. It was still spotting with rain as I stood out on the balcony and watched a couple of other runners come in. I had finished at 2.45pm, a quarter of an hour before my ideal time of 3pm. I had walked a fair bit of the course, but I was still happy with what I had achieved. After having a couple of years off running ultras because of injury, this was a good indication that, maybe, I was back.

From my perspective the inaugural Round Reading Ultra was a great success. It was well-organised and a lot of fun. I may well be back again next year. Who knows – maybe I’ll run the whole way this time.

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#reading #ultra #ultramarathon #purplepatch

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