#anyway 'Imperialism' finished (only the book for now unfortunately)

[teddybasmanov]

Reading Marxist theory is all fun and games until you can't help but apply to everything that moves and everything that doesn't move - you move and apply it anyway.

[quietbluejay]

False Gods 1

So, disclaimer, I only found out partway through about the absolutely bizarre schedule they had this on so I was perhaps undeservedly harsh on some of the earlier bits

That being said, let's get started.

Konrad and "legacy of heroism" being put in the same sentence, lmao

anyways time for our unknown viewpoint woman to shill for Horus a bit in her head and now a description

you know what, this is not the worst description of a woman that McNeill has ever written, I'll take it wait how is she running a hand through her hair if it's swept up okay we got a name for our viewpoint character, she's Petronilla Vivar and she's a remembrancer she's not a big fan of Karkasy's poetry also I can't believe it, but the actual quality of the prose at least at this point is better than Fulgrim she does like Euphrati's picture at least oh it's time to meet her servant/bodyguard who is a mute (Maggard)

lovely woman

new POV character, princeps time oh i remember a bit from this guy time for a long description of his titan also he has a hangover

here it is unforgettable McNeill, what is the obvious masculine symbolism here??? is it guns?? why obvious masculine symbolism when you repeatedly refer to your titan as "she"?? wait he's a moderati primus and i don't know the difference between that and a princeps lol he meets his fellow moderati (Cassius) who is a member of the Imperial Cult and also, well, a fusspot Cassius isn't a fan of calling the titan "she" because it "smacks of pagan anthropomorphization"

Aruken...

I'd apologize but I'm not really sorry unfortunately Jonah continues in this vein a bit more Cassius linefaces at him Jonah: just because you've never had sex…

pleasant fellow

Cassius slips up and refers to the God-Emperor Jonah: dude don't say that so loud!!! also even the Emperor says he's not a god Cassius: only the truly divine deny their divinity hmph okay the description of going into the titan isn't half bad the whole integration process is cool but is uhhh winces

through the eyes, yeesh also neither we nor they know who they're going out to fight

akshub is our chaos priestess the akshub small segment was just like foreshadowing that ooo momentous things are going to happen but the world is going on as usual anyways the Luna Wolves Sons of Horus have arrived! Horus is wearing green now Davin, watch out!

oh we're back to Mersadie she's watching Loken sparring Loken is being a bit obsessive about it she's waiting for him to finish so she can quiz him about Davin

oh here we go (again)

they talk a bit about can Astartes even get old I wonder do Imperials have a saying "thinking about the immortality of the Astartes" you know, like thinking about the immortality of the crab Loken doesn't actually know but he figures they'll all die before they find out, lol this is just a retread of this from last book

their conversation gets interrupted by the massive, slab-like form of Abaddon

BEHOLD:

OKAY I GET IT ABADDON IS LORGE AND LOKEN HAS LOTS OF MUSCLES

McNeill, we are on chapter 2 could you not restrain yourself also there is some kind of tension now between loken and abaddon loken will not explain it to mersadie though

okay davin description loken's not a fan

infested? that's their natural habitat loken that's their home

it was a good war and basically bloodless at least for the Luna Wolves

loken misses the white of the luna wolves he felt a bit uneasy when the legion was renamed despite everyone cheering

let's go back a few hours and switch to the cooler Mal's POV he has to bring an unfortunate message to Horus Mal: you know what i'll just leave the slate in his office he can look at it on his own time

he gets jumpscared by Horus horus is sitting here alone in the dark horus is a big mood

Mal: is everything all right? Horus: I don't even know any more, Mal

McNeill stole a turn of phrase from Abnett to describe Horus but I'll allow it, everyone steals from Abnett

so the slate is about Petronella Vivar who has friends in high places, demanding to become Horus' personal remembrancer

>_>

clutches my chest

so horus jumps moods 3 separate times in this scene this is a portent of worse to come

anyways I do enjoy Mal

i think there was some kind of idk formatting error here or something

because this isn't a scene break, we're back in Loken's POV the two hours thing looks like maybe it was supposed to be a header or something? anyways Davin is peaceful and Loken doesn't know how he feels about that

i do hope this isn't trying to say that erebus was already here because errr he was on the vengeful spirit last we saw him and it was at his request that they came for there wasn't a "summoning" dude this was established in Horus Rising that it was a request

charming fellow, that Karkasy

Euphrati glares at him to stop him from taking it okay so this is the war council karkasy is boredddd annnd of course karkasy sneaks a look down Keeler's cleavage cmon man

the face I'm making here

karkasy was not this bad in Horus Rising annnd then it goes into Karkasy thinking about how despite being fat and not that great looking, he's managed to seduce many women with his words and this had better not be a self-inserty thing yeah okay Karkasy in Horus Rising wasn't the greatest (see repeatedly hitting on Keeler) but that was one scene it wasn't him looking down her shirt and then thinking about all his conquests does this karkasy actually think of women as people e_e yes it used the term "conquests" "[he netted] several carnal tales" from one of his works being a bestseller yeah. why was this necessary to add. oh a word bearer comes in and karkasy instinctively dislikes their logo it's erebus

of course it's erebus who loken doesn't trust and that's why he wanted Karkasy there (there was a very brief flashback) let's go back in time to a day before planetfall loken is visiting Sindermann who is hanging out in the library reading ancient manuscripts and you know it's interesting to me that the Vengeful Spirit has such a well stocked library "manuscripts and leather bound tomes" Loken wants to know if Sindermann had an ulterior motive in giving him the Chronicles of Ursh

Sindermann, of course, changes the subject to ask about Horus Loken: he's tired but also i see through this very obvious subject change let's get back to it he wants to know about the guys with magic powers in the book what's up with that? why did their leaders allow it?

Sindermann does the whole spiel about how human civilization is one week without food from collapse, or however that saying goes loken finds this depressing sindermann: well thanks to the Emperor, we don't have to worry about this, probably!

Sindermann is sliding closer to Emperor worship as well lol

hehehehehehehehehehehehe

[f0rever15elf]

Like a Garden

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader Rating: G Word Count: 3,159 Warnings: Mentions of canon typical violence, injuring mention, light swearing (I say damn like...once), no y/n

Summary: IN a galaxy where soulmates are real, flower tattoos bloom on the skin that corresponds to scars on your soulmate’s body. You’re covered in them, with no idea who your soulmate might be until one day a stoic Mandalorian whisks you away to see the stars.  

A/N: FINALLY got around to finishing something! I’m so sorry it’s been so long! This came as a request for a soulmate concept with Din. Please enjoy! 

Masterlist |  Ao3 | Ko-fi

Your eyes snap open, woken from a dead sleep to a searing pain across your abdomen. “Dank ferrik!” You yank the covers back, hiking your shirt up to watch as swirling flowers bloom across the skin of your stomach. A nice addition to the collection you’re already sporting over the rest of your body. “What the hell is this person doing? I look like a damn flower garden!” With a grumble, you decide to start your day well before the three suns rise in the morning sky. No point in trying to sleep now.

Life has never really been exciting for you, not in the strictest sense of the word. Sure, there were parties and concerts and sporting events to attend, and from time to time an interesting figure from somewhere far from here would show up and be the talk of the town for a few days before moving on, but that was never really exciting. Fun, sure, but not exciting. Not like what you want. Not until the day that pre-Imperial Razor Crest docks at your town’s lousy excuse of a spaceport.

Word spreads fast in this town, what with the fact that there’s not much else to talk about aside from the fact that Garish down the street has that weird space pox disease again and no one is quite sure how he keeps managing to catch it. But a Mandalorian showing up in town with some weird little gremlin child? Now that’s some hot gossip.

He shows up on your day off cleaning the space port so you only find out about him through word of mouth, but it doesn’t take you long at all to find him at the local cantina, his armor having him stick out like a sore thumb in the comparatively muted colors of the town. He’s tall and broad and radiates power, though his posture would read relaxed to anyone not used to watching their back every step of the way. Your lips curl as you watch him for a moment, before that t-visor turns your way. You can feel him staring back at you though you have no indication of his eyes before you flash him a wink and exit the cantina. You’ll see him again soon anyways.

The next day he’s back at the space port, talking with your boss about the cost of the supplies for repairing the ship. Your boss has always been a slimy old fool, swindling people out of their money while simultaneously not even realizing you were helping to lighten his pockets every time. The perks to being the one writing the books since he’s too lazy to do it himself.

“He’s cheating you, you know.” That t-visor zeros in on you again, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. “Parts and labor for that repair cost half what he’s trying to charge you.” A gloved hand clenches back around the credits as your boss begins spluttering, the Mando’s other hand moving towards his blaster. You chuckle, hoisting the bag onto your shoulder as you saunter over. “Told you it would catch up to you, Teff. Charge the man what’s due and be done with it.” Teff splutters out a corrected cost, the Mando looking to you for approval before handing over the credits when you nod, Teff scampering off to the back of the port.

“Is he always like that?” comes a gruff, modulated voice from the Mandalorian.

“Unfortunately,” you sigh before turning to grin up at the Mando. “He tries to skimp on my paycheck too, but I’m the one who manages the books, so it doesn’t exactly work out for him.” The Mandalorian just grunts before turning to head back to the ramp of his ship. “Do you need an onboard  mechanic?” you ask quickly, scrambling to catch up with him.

“I’m good.”

“I’m a great mechanic. I grew up around this place. The boss just keeps me off the line because he didn’t want to pay for a second mechanic.” The Mandalorian grunts, heavy boots thudding part way up the ramp before he stops, turning to look at you. What must his gaze look like to weigh so heavily on you every time he looks at you?

“I can’t pay you. I’m barely scraping by as it is, and you would just be another mouth to feed.” He places both hands on his hips, clearly exasperated.

“I can pay my own way. I have plenty of credits saved up. Please, just get me off of this rock, that’s all I’m asking you.” You take a step towards him, looking up at him and for a moment, he’s quiet.

“I’m not a taxi service,” he finally responds, but the protest sounds weak on his lips. Does he even have lips? 

“And I’m not looking for a chauffeur. Look, I know pre-Imperial vessels like the back of my hand. Give me a hydrospanner and an arc welder and I’m better than any repair droid you’ve ever seen. I can buy my own food and med supplies and can do whatever you need me to to earn my keep.”

The weight of his gaze never relents, but you don’t back down, meeting his silent challenge until he finally sighs and nods up the ramp before turning and heading in himself. With a grin that can only be described as giddy, you make your way up the gangway to the cockpit as the Mandalorian takes his seat. There are two seats behind him, one currently occupied by the rumored little green creature with the biggest eyes and ears you have ever seen, head dusted with wispy white hairs. He stares at you as you take your seat next to him, flashing him a smile as you buckle in, the boosters kicking on as your new pilot fires up the engines, the familiar vibrations bringing a smile to your lips.

~

Traveling with a Mandalorian bounty hunter is never dull, you quickly come to learn. The Razor Crest is in far worse shape than you originally thought, and there are several times where you remove a panel and find a tatoo-rat’s nest of wires, some frayed and barely held together with spacer’s tape. The first time, you let it slide. The second time, you voiced your concern. The third time, you tore the Mandalorian a new one when you realized the wires were the set leading to the hyperdrive. At least you were kept busy on the long jumps between planets and bounties making sure the ship didn’t just randomly explode due to neglect and ad-hoc repairs.

When you’re not playing mechanic to the galaxy’s premium clunker ship, you’re either reading on your datapad, or entertaining the kid. It turns out he’s real easy to amuse, and likes playing mechanic with you when you’re working. It’s adorable, really, considering the spanner wrench is almost the same size he is. But your favorite thing is when everyone is finally winding down to get some rest. He has a little hammock above the Mandalorian’s cot in the quarters closet, but he’s taken to snuggling up with you when you lay down to sleep. You’ve taken over a little corner of the ship, essentially making a little nest to huddle up in when you need to sleep. It’s as cozy as you can get on a hunk of metal careening through the galaxy at the speed of light. And today, that’s where you find yourself.

The child, Grogu as you’ve been told is his name, is sitting in your lap, big brown eyes staring up at you with boundless curiosity. He tilts his head before standing in your lap, reaching up to lay his little hand on the bridge of your nose where a century flower tattoo spreads around your eyes like a sort of face mask. You can’t help but chuckle, leaning into his touch to answer his question.

“My soulmate must have hit their face pretty hard for me to end up with this, little one.” He chirps at that, dropping his hand as he looks down at your arms, your sleeves rolled up. Blooms litter your arms too, a testament to how the rest of your body looks. You let the little creature explore your arms, nails tracing along the colorful flowers, and you’re so focused on watching him that you don’t even notice the Mandalorian leaning against the ladder up to the cockpit, watching you.

“Do you know how you get these, little one?” Grogu makes a sound of curiosity, looking up to you with those pretty wide eyes and you give him a smile, reaching up to smooth his hairs. “When the galaxy was created, there was a massive explosion that sent pieces of stars all across it. Energy and gas and matter all began to come back together to make planets and moons and stars as the fractured pieces of space found each other again. But some of those celestial bodies never found their missing pieces. Instead, that stardust became people and these people all started living on the planets and moons that now were scattered through the galaxy. But stardust never forgets its missing pieces, and this is how soulmates were created. Two people destined to find one another.” He coos at that, turning his head to look back at his father, and you smile when your eyes land on the Mandalorian, watching you intently.

“So the soulmates could find one another again, they were linked. Marks from one would show up on the skin of another in the form of flowers of all kinds. Anywhere your soulmate has a scar, you get a flower tattoo.” Tiny hands pat your arm gently, and you smile, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of his head before reaching up to stroke his ear.

“I’ve never met my soulmate, but they must lead a dangerous life to have so many scars. I look like the royal flower gardens of Naboo,” you giggle, and that earns a chuckle from the masked bounty hunter.

“What about you, Mando?” His visor tilts when you call out for him, his back straightening out slightly. “Do you have any flowers?”

“Just one,” he rasps, pushing off the ladder to come over to you, squatting down to stroke the kid’s ear. “Hurt like hell when I got it, too.” You tilt your head curiously, hoping he would continue. You won’t lie, a part of you hopes that this masked man is the one the galaxy has been trying to reconnect you with, your time with him showing you just how kind of a man he truly is, even if you still don’t know his real name. But since he stays covered, a testament to his devotion to his creed, you have no way of confirming based on his scars.

He watches the kid for a moment, seemingly deep in thought before he stands, pulling off his chest plate and carefully setting it aside. Your heart speeds up in your chest as you watch silently, eyes focusing on his side as he undoes the flight suit, showing his tanned skin. He tugs the suit to the side, revealing the skin just above his right kidney where a beautiful pom flower spreads out over the skin. Your voice fails you as you reach out to touch the tattoo, the scar over your right kidney tingling when you do as Mando shivers under your touch.

“When did you get this?” you whisper, tracing the petals gently. Your hand falls away as he moves away from your touch, refastening his suit as he turns to you.

“Five cycles ago, give or take. For the longest time I didn’t even think I had a soulmate. I guess they just live cautiously.” He laughs a breathy, sad laugh as he drops his gaze back to your arms. “My soulmate probably looks a lot like you. I haven’t exactly lead an easy life.”

It takes you a moment to collect your thoughts, watching as Grogu plays with a tie on your tunic before you look back up at the Mandalorian. “I think...that statement about how your soulmate looks is more accurate than you realize.”

Carefully, you shuffle the kid off of your lap and over to his father before turning your back to him, slowly lifting your tunic to reveal the skin above your right kidney, adorned with a nasty burn scar from the barrel of a hot blaster that had been unceremoniously dug into your side. It’s partially hidden by a delicate white flower tattoo, but the puckered skin is still highly visible. The Mandalorian’s breath hitches as he watches, eyes locked on the skin of your back, his own tattoo tingling.

“About five cycles ago, the space port was robbed by raiders. They had been running rampant all over the planet, but had left our region alone for the most part, as we lived in a poorer area. But that day it changed. They tore through town, taking everything they could. When they got to the port, I was working on repairing one of the droids when they yanked me to my feet and jammed a hot blaster into my side to use me as a bargaining chip for my boss so he would hand over any credits we had. When my boss kept refusing, I guess they determined I wasn’t worth the blaster bolt it would take to kill me, so they bashed me over the head and took off with whatever they could grab.” You drop your tunic, turning back to face the Mandalorian who sits still as the grave, watching you. “That’s the day I started saving to get away from there. When my boss made it clear he’d rather watch me die than hand over a single credit, I knew I had to get away.”

You give a sad smile, looking down at your hands, all covered in tiny yellow blooms. “I guess the universe has some degree of sympathy, sending you when it did. Of all the people I could have escaped with, I got to escape with you.” You look back up, that smile still on your face. “My soulmate, and I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Din,” he rasps, the reaction almost knee jerk, and it takes you by surprise. So much so that you have to ask him to repeat himself. “Din. Din Djarin,” he repeats, glancing down at your hands firmly clasped in your lap.

“I like that name. Din.” He shivers visibly at the sound of his name on your lips before reaching out to take your hands, gloved thumbs running over the delicate tattoos. He’s tense, something on his mind, so you gently ask what’s wrong, not trying to pry too much.

“I’m sorry,” is all you get in response, which only serves to leave you more confused. When he glances up and catches your expression, he sighs, setting your hand back in your lap. “You’re covered because I’m careless. All these tattoos because my life is a dangerous one. Even this…,” he reaches up, a gloved finger tracing along the ridge of your nose where the century flower sprawls. “If these hurt as much as the one I got from you… I’m so sorry.”

Silently, you reach up and take his hand in both of yours, resting them in your lap. “It doesn’t last long, it’s alright. And the pain of the new tattoos let me know my soulmate was still alive out there somewhere, which meant as soon as I got off world, I could try to find him… you. And now I have, so I hope you know what this means.” Your face draws serious as you stare down the metal plated man.

He shifts, slightly uncomfortable under your gaze, and the child in his lap turns to look up at him with curious eyes. “Uh...what?”

“You have a LOT of stories to tell me about these scars. And I have a way of keeping track.” Your serious face shifts into a grin as you giggle, reaching over to pet the child’s head. “Starting with the one on my face. Are you alright? Is the scar painful for you there?”

Din sighs, relaxing with a chuckle before reaching up to hold the sides of his helmet, your eyes widening in realization as you quickly look away. The hiss of air meets your ears as he removes the helmet, and when he calls your name, his voice is clear and strong and deep and it sets your heart to racing in your chest. “It’s okay, you can look.”

“But your creed….” You close your eyes so you aren’t tempted to turn your head and look.

“We’re soulmates, it’s alright. We are one in the same, you aren’t breaking my creed.” A hand, no longer gloved and distinctly rough with callouses, cups your cheek and you suck in a stuttered breath. “I want you to see me….”

You hesitate for another moment before slowly turning to face him. Taking a deep breath, you open your eyes, only to be met with quite possibly the most handsome man you have ever seen before in your life. Deep, rich brown eyes crinkled with smile lines at the corners, all nestled under unruly brown hair. His nose is strong and prominent, a small scar across the bridge that corresponds to the flower on your face. His lips are slightly chapped, but full and plush and have a little crease in the bottom lip that suddenly fills you with the overwhelming urge to lean forward and see how he tastes and feels against your own. He’s beautiful, you think.

You must be staring for too long, because Din’s face grows unsure, doubt creeping into the light in his eyes as his hand falls from your face and he reaches for his helmet. Without thinking, your hands shoot out to still his own, and he looks back at you with surprise and confusion. “Leave it off for now. You’re… you’re beautiful.”

To say he looks taken aback would be an understatement. His lips fall slightly open and he blinks before his eyes widen, staring at you with a sense of wonder. Has no one told him how beautiful he is before? No, you buffoon, he’s a Mandalorian, no one has seen him to tell him. “I mean it,” you whisper, shuffling a little closer, acutely aware of the child between the two of you, staring enraptured by what’s going on. “You’re stunning, Din. In every sense of the word.”

There’s a beat of silence before he lets out a breathy surprised laugh, his hand finding your face again. You press your cheek into the warmth of his palm and his breath hitches as his eyes flit down to your lips. “Can… Can I…?”

“Kiss me, Din.”

And he does. 

~~~~~

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[creative-lampd-liberties]

"You're not small. You wouldn't understand" and “I may be small but I am mighty.” with Janus please ?

... I may be projecting...

I was going thru my stuff and I realized that I finished this but never posted it. Apologies for the delay @zozomind I hope you like it. I think you might have been asking for angst but it turned into drlamp snuggle time.

...as a small person, I may also have projected a bit 😅😅

☆☆☆

Janus was already in full rant mode as they came into the living room.  "I don't know how to explain to you that *I* am the *correct* height. *You* are just unfortunately tall. Both of you."

Roman, hot on his heels, rolled his eyes "I'm only five inches larger than you!" Remus giggled and Roman shot him a pained grimace. 

Janus sniffed imperiously. " You're not small, you wouldn't understand."

"I could make him shorter, if you want," Remus offered, summoning a meat cleaver.

"Do not." Roman growled and snatched it from him, vanishing it. Remus crossed his arms and made a face, pointedly pouting.

Janus grinned, wide and sharp. "Now Roman, There's always room for improvement." 

Letting out a huff, Roman threw his hands up in the air. "I'm not that tall! *You're* not that short!"

It was Janus’s turn to roll his eyes. "I'm not short, obviously, I'm small. Perfectly packaged." He waved dismissively at Roman. "But you are entirely too tall."

Remus perked up again. "Oh! or I could make *you* taller. Stretch your bones?"

Janus smiled blandly at him."You know what will happen if you try."

Roman groaned loudly  "You're both being ridiculous. Patton back me up here?"

Patton blinked up at him from where he and Virgil were piecing together a puzzle on the coffee table. "Sure thing, kiddo. What about?"

Janus jumped in before Roman could start. "I was just explaining to Roman that being small is not a disadvantage. That it is, in fact, the better lifestyle."

"Oh. Well in that case I hate to disappoint Roman, but I agree with Janus." Patton said.. Virgil snorted, which made Patton chuckle behind his hand. Roman gaped at both of them, spluttering.

Janus beamed at him, smug. "Of course you do. Being the appropriate height makes you smarter than all these freakishly gangly giants "

Patton shook a finger at him, trying and failing to school his expression into disapproval. "Now Janus, that's not nice. They can't help that they're not fun size like us!"

Logan, who had been watching the exchange over his book, frowned. "I'm not sure I'm understanding this argument. Are you suggesting there is a moral correlation to height?"

"No, of course not!" Patton assured, at the same time as Janus said, "Yes. Absolutely."

Logan set his book down, shifting firmly into lecture mode. "That's ridiculous. Height has no basis on personality."

"Well…" Roman hedged.

"And certainly no moral value whatsoever."

"Your mom's ridiculous and has no moral value whatsoever." Remus chirped. Roman whacked him on the shoulder. "What?" he whined.

Janus favored Logan with his least impressed look. "You're not small, you wouldn't understand. But then… you're not tall either are you?" 

"I am a perfectly respectable height." Logan protested. "It's the national average."

Janus nodded sympathetically. "Exactly. It's *average*. Shrink, then perhaps we can be friends."

This took Logan aback, face twisting uncertainly. "But we're already… aren't we already friends?"

Patton tutted, actually managing to glare a bit in Janus's direction. "Of course you are sweetie." He clamored up to pat Logan comfortingly on the shoulder. "We're all friends. Janus is just being silly."

"Traitor." Janus hissed.

Virgil gave up on the puzzle. Smirking, he climbed to his feet and snatched Janus's hat from his head. He held it just out of reach. "Is that your evil plot for today then? To confuse and antagonize poor Logan?"

Janus scowled at him. "You're lucky I don't bite you." He hissed.

"Was that supposed to be a threat?" Virgil grinned wider, and set the hat on his own head, still firmly out of reach. "It's adorable that you act like you're not itty-bitty. But you are, you're tiny, like a kitten."

Janus growled. "And you sound like someone who's *asking* to be bitten."

Virgil huffed a laugh. "Eh, I wasn't that fond of my ankles anyway."

"Careful." Janus's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I may be *small* but I am mighty."

A calculated look crept into Virgil's amused expression. "Uh huh. Sure, kitten. Y'know though, you are the perfect height…" he said, tone light 

"Damn right, I am!"

"-for me to do this!" 

Janus hissed and spat as Virgil scooped him bodily off or the floor, swatting ineffectually at his head. "Put me down this instant!" he growled. 

Virgil just turned to Remus, who was already cackling, and the two of them squished him between them. They planted matching kisses on each cheek as Janus squirmed, laughing when he flushed all the way to the tips of his ears and stilled, letting out a noise like a startled tea kettle.

Roman was watching with unabashed delight. "Why didn't I think of that. Patton, c'mere."

Patton all but lept into his arms, giggling. "Oh no! I'm caught!" He accepted his cheek kiss with magnanimity.

Roman carted him over to the group hug, Patton squirming his way into the center with Janus. "Hi." He whispered, beaming. Janus blinked at him like a startled deer.

They were only missing one side now. Remus was craning his neck to eye the couch. "You too, geek chic. Join the orgy!"

"Must I?" Logan wrinkled his nose, but when Virgil made grabby hands he went easily enough. They pulled him into the circle. 

Once they had him, the cheek kisses began in full force. Everyone got a fair share. Patton squealed and giggled and planted retaliatory kisses on his "attackers". Logan endured them with a stoic sigh and a small blush. But Janus resumed his squirming in force.

"Look, he's blushing!" Roman teased, punctuating it with another kiss.

"I am *not*!

"So cute!" This was Patton, and Janus managed to flush even brighter. Especially when Logan leaned in to kiss his forehead.

A petulant whine crept into his voice. "This is undignified. You're squishing me."

Virgil rolled his eyes. "It's called affection, Jan. It won't actually kill you." 

Patton bit his lip to contain his amusement. He gently squeezed one gloved hand in his own. "You get used to it eventually. Let's me know I'm loved."

Janus groaned dramatically. "Fine. I'll submit to your so called *affection*. Just remember, I know where all of you sleep."

☆☆☆

[tessiete]

So, my mum sent me a prompt, and I...I wrote it. Still working on those in my inbox, but mum’s come first, ya know?

She picked Spotify #12 (Love You Back, by Metric), and she wanted Luke and Qui-Gon bonding. I tried, mum, but Korkie just shows up all the time.

Love, your daughter.

LIFT UP, AND FALL AWAY

Luke travels to Dantooine by himself.

It’s been weeks since Bespin, weeks since he’d been released from medical supervision aboard the Dreamless Sleep and weeks since he’d left all its well-meaning but overbearing clinicians behind. He knows he should go back to Yoda, or hunt for the bounty hunter who took Han, or help Leia rally the scattered rebel forces back into order, but instead, he makes his escape.

There is little enough to recommend the planet. It is an outer rim world with no industry or economy to speak of. There are no cities, or monuments, the largest settlements boasting hardly more than a few thousand people and recent rumours suggest a small but growing number of them may be Imperial sympathisers which doesn’t bode well for him: The Miracle of Yavin; The First Hope of the Alliance. He can’t imagine anything like that will be met with particular enthusiasm here. 

But even beyond political allegiances, it is a distinctly unappealing place being both unremarkable and largely unremarked. It is off of any useful trade route. It has few interplanetary allies, and only one weak judicial body to govern the entirety of its surface. In fact, the best thing Luke can think to say of it is that it is nearly as far away from Tatooine as it is possible for anything to be.

And far from Dagobah, too.

He brings his X-Wing down in the middle of a grassy plain, and leaves Artoo to run diagnostics on the ship. It’s his second (since he’d abandoned the first in Cloud City), and so lacking in all the alterations he’d so carefully programmed and calibrated into his previous fighter. He’s trying not to think of it as a nuisance, but an opportunity. A second chance. A second ship. A second hand - he smirks at this, and adjusts the blaster at his hip. He needs a second blade.

But there is something else that he must do first.

The sun is high as he sets off, only a small ration pack slung across his chest, and the blaster with him. Artoo’s whistling complaints grow fainter as he goes, until they are drowned completely beneath the whispers of swaying grasses. They are all turned brown. It is late in the year, and so they are filled with the gossip of an entire season. They brush against his legs, eager to touch this visitor and pass on rumours of his presence to their brethren, the trees, whose voices are heard in the rustle of leaves, then carried off on the wind in birdsong. 

In the distance, he sees a herd of grazing iriaz, but they move off long before he is close enough to comprehend them as anything more than silent shadows, silhouetted against the sky. They leave prints - wide tracks scratched into dusty earth, and little pools where they have kicked up some water to sustain them. Common havoc kites circle lazily overhead, riding the updrafts on stiff, unyielding wings. They too, take no interest in Luke, and soon disappear in search of prey. The drone of some insect rises and falls and vanishes, its source remaining unseen. It seems to Luke that all of Dantooine is of a beautiful, but uncurious nature, content to live and let live without extending either welcome or censure to those who cross its lands.

It is in this manner, unencumbered by anything but the weight of his thoughts, that Luke finds himself only a few hours later passing beneath the boughs of ancient blba trees to arrive on the doorstep of a tidy stone cottage in the middle of the Khoonda plains. The base is a round structure, supporting another smaller yet equally round structure on top, like buckets of sand packed tight and upturned upon each other. Where they meet, there is a ring of wood slats, angled steeply downward as shingles to protect from run off, the door an old fashioned vertical slide that folds over itself as it springs from the floor to hide away in the crossbeam above. He knocks, and when a man with blue eyes, and gold hair threaded silver answers, Luke knows why Ben’s ghost has asked him to come.

“I’m looking for Kryze,” he says. 

“That’s me,” the man replies, his brow furrowed. He keeps one hand on the door, and the other braced against the wall within to lend him strength should he need it, but there is no fear in his voice, despite the blaster he’s clearly noted. 

“I’ve been sent to find you,” Luke says, and Kryze sighs.

“Well,” he says, shoulders sagging, and his body shifting to grant Luke admittance. “You’d better come inside.”

The space is warm, the amber light of the afternoon filtering through rippled glass windows to dance over cluttered walls, and overfull shelves. There are plants, bursting from their pots like Tusken black powder on fire. Paintings cover every inch of the wall not taken up with windows or furniture, and canvases lie stacked atop one another in various crevices and corners where space has run out. Books - proper old volumes printed on flimsi, and in some cases actual paper, stand front to back to front in orderly lines high in their cramped cases, regimented troops of education and exploration. Lower down are curiously bent sticks, twisted knots of dry grass, beetle wings, the shed scales of a rosy drayk, leaves of various size and colour, and a small river stone, smooth and black and streaked with red. 

“Various treasures,” Kryze explains, as Luke is lost in his perusal. “You can touch them, if you like. Shall I put a kettle on?”

He wipes his hands upon an old rag, leaving streaks of blue and green, tossing it down beside a murky pitcher of water, and several brushes, and it is then that Luke realises he has caught him in the middle of something personal and profound.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” he says. “If you’re busy, I can wait. Or come back. Or -”

“Nonsense,” says Kryze, smiling. The expression is familiar, and Luke smiles back, feeling some common thread strum between them. “I ought to start on lastmeal anyway. We’re having muja dai-ungo for pudding. A favourite, you see, and yet I am the sole chef in this endeavour, since the other beasts which live here are prone to eating the jelly and leaving none for the glaze.”

It is some joke which Luke is not entirely certain of, so he smiles politely but doesn’t laugh as Kryze draws him into the cramped cookroom at the side. Water is set to boil on an ancient hot top, and Kryze sweeps aside a variety of holopads and half-finished string weaves to make space on the countertop. He pulls down two ceramplast cups, chipped and cracked, and smirks ruefully at his guest.

“A hazard of my unfortunate circumstances, you see. They say no plan survives contact with the enemy, and I take it to mean nothing at all survives contact with children. Everything here is somewhat the worse for wear, I’m afraid.” But there is nothing except long-suffering amusement in his voice, as though his pretensions of civility are an easy and happy price to pay for the benefit of such injury.

A shriek, followed by a chorus of laughter tumbles in from outside, and Kryze opens the window for a better view. Luke, overly alert to danger and almost surprised by joy, cannot help but duck his head to look, too.

A woman in long skirts races across the yard, followed by a girl brandishing a stick who looks only a few years younger than Luke, though she feels lightyears away. 

“Wait!” calls another voice, high and pleading. As the first two cavort out of sight, a third girl appears, only to stop at the call, and turn back as the fourth, and final member of the party staggers into view. A boy, no older than seven or so, sets himself down upon the ground, crossing his arms in displeasure as the girl walks back to soothe him. “They run too fast,” Luke hears him lament. “And I have lost the poesy you made me.”

Kryze lets out a breath of laughter, assured there is no danger except perhaps to his son’s vanity, and returns to his pot, measuring out leaves and water with equal care. Luke watches the girl give her brother a hug, and coax him off in pursuit of the others.

“My eldest, Jinn,” Kryze explains. “She’s a wild thing, like her mother. And Mav, too, but with a softer heart. Corim is the youngest, and most civilised of the bunch. Thank the stars, or I’m afraid I’d be terribly overrun out here. Do you take anything in your tea?”

“Um, no,” Luke says, thinking of the heavy spices of Tatooine brews. 

But the drink placed before him is a thin and watery kind of thing, of a pale pink colour. He can see the ceramplast through the liquid, and raises it to his lips skeptically.

Kryze watches him with that same kind amusement he seems to regard everything.

“It is a local variety of my own invention,” he explains. “Made from dried diabolix berries. Just the dried ones, mind you. The ones off the bush are deadly.”

Luke freezes, the rim of the cup pressed to his lips, the mild sweetness of sun still on his tongue, and Kryze laughs. He’s come here for a purpose, but has instead found himself trapped with a kind of domesticated eccentric.

He sets his tea down as politely as he can, while Kryze doesn’t hesitate to drink deeply from his own cup.

“I don’t want to be rude,” he says. “But I actually came here to deliver a message. From Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

At this, Kryze finally stills, his eyes meeting Luke’s with an apprehensive solemnity. “Of course,” he says. “What news?”

“He’s dead.”

The cup settles upon its saucer with only a faint chime of protest.

“Ah,” says Kryze.

In the following silence, guilt sweeps in, and soon Luke finds himself scrambling for the frayed edges of comfort and sympathy.

“It was fast,” he says. “And he knew what he was doing. He saved my life, and my friends. Vader - do you know anything that’s going on in the galaxy right now?”

That quiet, aching smirk curls upwards once more. 

“Of course,” says Kryze. “Why else would I be way out here?”

“I’m sorry,” Luke says.

Kryze stands to clear the table of their tea. 

“You say you’ve left your ship a few hours west? It is much too late for you to return to it now. Stay. Eat with us. Have a good night’s rest. Tomorrow, I should like to show you something.”

It is impossible for Luke to refuse this hospitality, not after he’s made such a mess of his own reason for coming here. He owes Kryze this much, at least.

“Of course,” he says. “If it isn’t any problem.”

“No problem at all,” Kryze insists. “There is an orchard down the path. If you follow the screams and laughter you should find it all right. The girls will collect you in time for latemeal.”

Thus dismissed, Luke removes his pack, but keeps his blaster close, heading for the door. At the threshold, he is overcome by a need to know for certain, and he turns back for one last look at the mysterious Kryze.

“Can I just ask,” he begins. “How did you know him? Obi-Wan, I mean. Why did he send me here to talk to you?”

His back to the door, Luke almost misses the reply carried back on the ghost of laughter.

“Oh, that,” says Kryze. “Well, after all, I am his son.”

 The sun of Dantooine is much too reserved to intrude, and so it is to the clatter of dishware, and eager voices that Luke wakes the next morning. He stretches, and moves from his room to the sonics across the hall he thinks without attracting notice, but he is met, upon his exit, with the startled aspect of the youngest Kryze listening at the door.

Corim’s jaw snaps shut, and he frowns before declaring quite firmly that, “I wasn’t spying. I was only checking to see if you hadn’t died in the night you slept in so late.”

Luke grins. “Not dead yet, I don’t think.”

“Well, if you don’t hurry, there shan’t be any flatcakes left, no matter what Bebu says.”

“I’ll be there in a sec,” Luke assures him, and he stalks away entirely unconvinced.

Despite this threat, the table in the main room is still heaped with food when Luke emerges, fresher and more relaxed than he’s been in ages. The Kryzes are already packed tight around the table, but Mav and Jinn happily bunch over to make room for Luke between them. Mav, especially, goes out of her way to fill his glass, and pile his plate with the last of the muja preserves left over from the night before.

“Hey, that was my share,” complains Jinn, her mouth full. “You’ve already had seconds today.”

Mav blushes, and ducks her head, but her retort is vehement for all that her embarrassment is public. “We have a guest,” she says. “And your face is so full of cake you wouldn’t even taste the jelly anyway!”

“I didn’t get seconds!” Corim chimes in.

“Mother!” Jinn demands, taking her appeal to a higher court.

“Jinn, relax,” says Wyla, supremely unbothered, sipping her kaf and reading off her holopad. “Mav, be nice. Corim, I have a treat for you later.”

“S’not fair,” Jinn grumbles into her plate, but Wyla reaches over to pat her hand sympathetically.

“If you’re looking for the worst villain to blame, then examine your father’s plate. He’s more than enough jelly on that cake to last us to next harvest.”

At this, Kryze looks up to shoot his daughter a smug grin, before shoveling a heavily laden portion of flatcake into his mouth. Jelly, piled too high to survive the journey, tumbles from his fork to splatter against the flat of his plate as emphasis of his unjust indulgence.

“Delicious,” he declares. Jinn rolls her eyes, while Luke smuggles in a bite of his own portion.

It is tasty, both sweet and tart and satisfyingly thick. The meal continues through several more hotly negotiated contracts, and concludes with Wyla and Mav packing up the old speeder with the spoils of their orchard, and Jinn agreeing to mind Corim, much to her delight and his wary dismay. Kryze, it is announced, has business to attend to with Luke, and he does not expect their return before nightfall. 

“Bring your rucksack,” he says, as they prepare to leave. “It is a long walk, and I shall want for snacks on the way.”

They set off with the sun on their faces, passing once more beneath the blba trees, the little cottage growing more and more distant as they make their way forth on the plains. Luke trusts that Kryze has some set destination in mind, but after the first hour he privately wonders if his guide has been distracted, and has brought them to wander in admiration of the land.

“That there is an extremely rare simbyloona butterfly,” he says, gesturing with a long wooden staff at the erratic path of the insect. “You ever been to Konkiv? Or Sriluur?”

“No,” says Luke.

“They have butterflies there,” explains Kryze. “What about Endor’s forest moon?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Well, if you ever go, keep an eye out,” he says, pushing on. 

The world seems much more alive with Kryze today. Longhoppers leap from the grass as he wades through, warbling tiktiks swoop over head to catch them. One of unique boldness lands upon the top of Kryze’s staff when he stops to show Luke the little dirt mounds of puppi mice beneath their feet. He smiles, and extends a finger to the bird which cocks its head from side to side before giving in to temptation and hopping upon Kryze’s outstretched hand.

“Hello, there,” he sings, soft and low. “Aren’t you a brave thing?”

He holds the bird forth so that Luke may have a closer look at the colourful plumage before lifting it higher to the sky to release it.

“Off you go, then,” he says. “Beautiful animal, isn’t it? Usually quite shy though. You must bring good luck.”

Luke watches the course of the bird, and hardly knows he’s replied until he’s already said, “Your father said there was no such thing.”

“Did he?” Kryze beams. “Well, he always had such odd notions.”

“Unlike you?” Luke asks. It’s not that he’s insulted by the man’s amusement at a dead man, but it does seem somewhat hypocritical in light of the bird, and the paintings, and the tea.

But Kryze takes no offense, only quirking an eyebrow to say, “Where do you think I got it from?”

For all his evident curiosity this challenge seems to be exactly the sort of query Kryze was waiting for, and he begins to tell Luke all manner of things about himself as they move ever on towards the horizon.

“My mother was the Duchess of Mandalore,” he says. “A pacifist, though you’d never know it by the way the galaxy remembers us. And for a year she was under the protection of my father. They fell in love, as tragically and impossibly as any young person could wish, and when they parted my father left confident in his ignorance, and my mother was left with me. It’s difficult to say who came out ahead in that.”

“I thought the Jedi couldn’t love,” says Luke.

“And whoever told you that nonsense?” asks Kryze. “You told me my father died saving you, and he cannot have done that for anything less than the purest love.”

Luke says nothing to this, only twists a knot of grass off in his hand and releases it to the wind. They walk in strained silence until it becomes comfortable again, and Luke exhales in resignation.

“I only just met my father,” he says. “He tried to kill me.”

Kryze looks at him, then stops to look at him harder. 

“Oh, I see it now,” he says. “You’re a Skywalker. I might have guessed it, but I’m afraid I’m rather out of practice these days.”

“Are you a Jedi, too?”

“No, no,” he scoffs. “Nothing so serious as all that. But I know enough to be able to tell the blaze of a Skywalker from the general inferno of starfire. I know enough to be recognised in turn.”

“Is that why you’re out here? Hiding from the Empire?”

Kryze grimaces at this, and turns back to the path ahead. A shadow looms, rising out of the ground, and he turns their course to that.

“What makes you think I’m hiding?” he asks. Then, before Luke can parse the riddle in this, he continues. “I used to be in the Alliance,” he says. “Wyla, too. We ran intelligence rings, and sabotage missions. We fought. Even had more than a few close calls with the Empire. But at some point, around the time that Wyla found out about Jinn, we decided that was it. We’d done our part. And when the Rebellion left their base here, we stayed behind.”

“The Empire still exists,” says Luke. 

“And it will not be my hand which stops it,” counters Kryze. Then, as the shadow takes the form of a ruined temple sprung from the earth itself, he speaks again. “My parents both died for peace. I think that I owe it to them to live for it. Here we go.”

Vines cling to ancient stone, while tangles of brush climb up and over crumbled walls and gaping cracks in the side of the old building. The trees grow thickly here, still green and lush despite the lateness of the year.

“A wellspring,” explains Kryze, without Luke’s having to ask. 

He guides him past hollowed out chambers pierced only by shafts of dazzling sunlight breaking through fractured ceilings, and bouncing off shallow, invisible puddles within. Animals chirrup in the brush, and birds nest in all the little nooks and crannies of decaying architecture. Though it is long abandoned, there is still something light and sacred about the space. The air is fresher here.

“This is a Jedi place,” breathes Luke.

“It was,” agrees Kryze. “Long before the Empire. Come along. There’s something else.”

Beneath a fall of greenery and fallen rocks lies an opening. 

“What is it?” asks Luke.

“Caves,” says Kryze. Luke looks at him, still uncertain. “I have noticed that you carry no lightsaber,” he explains.

Luke flexes the fingers of his false hand, feeling the pistons and levers firing in time with his desire, but different from the muscles and sinew of his flesh. It cannot be observed by casual inspection, but somehow Kryze seems to know.

“I lost it,” says Luke. 

“Then you shall have to build another.” He gestures again to the cave mouth, and Luke braces himself to go in. He shifts the blaster on his hip, checking the settings. “You won’t need that in there,” says Kyze. “There’s nothing inside but old ghosts.”

He is halfway to moving when he hesitates, and leans back. With his eyes fixed on Kryze’s, Luke unstraps the holster from his side, and hands it and his blaster into the hands of Ben Kenobi’s son. He goes into the caves alone.

It is dark inside, and there is a chill and the sound of water dripping into water somewhere far away. Luke steps carefully. Though the ground is rocky and uneven, his steps are certain and he does not falter. After several minutes of silent exploration, with no strange whispers or startling movement, the fear he entered with begins to fall away, leaving Luke’s mind open to the growing threat of boredom. There is nothing here. He sighs, and turns to leave only to discover the way out has grown just as dark as the path going farther in. He has no torch, no light, and no sabre to guide his path, but his irritation blazes bright enough to guide him and he sets off the way he came. 

When he has walked more than twice the distance he came, and then gone back to walk the distance again, he decides there is little he can do but sit and hope that Kryze will come for him. Surely, he hasn’t brought him here to starve after feeding him so thoroughly only hours ago. And for all that Luke feels helpless in the inky pits of the caves, Kryze had not lied when he said his blaster would be of no use. There is no one here but Luke.

He sets himself down against a stone, the seat of his pants made uncomfortably damp by the floor, and quite to his own surprise, drifts off.

When he wakes, there is light.

All around him are outcroppings of crystals in various shapes and colours. Some shine more brightly than the others, and some glow so fervently it is as though they sing. He reaches out to touch one, and the rest all clamour in harmony to meet him. 

Every thought of escape is eclipsed by the beauty in the caves, and Luke trails his fingers over each crystal that calls out, following their voices deeper and deeper into the caves. Until, in the deepest chamber, on the shores of a vast underground lake, he is met by something which glows brighter than all the crystals combined.

For a moment, he is compelled to shield his eyes, as the flare bursts forth in effulgent magnificence before dying down to live within the confines of an unrecognisable form.

It is a man with long hair, a kind smile, and wearing the robes of a Jedi.

“Hello, little one,” it calls out, and Luke raises his hand in reply. “I was wondering when I might have the chance to meet you.”

“Do I know you?” asks Luke, stepping closer. 

The ghost chuckles. “Not as such,” he replies. “But I know you. You are the student of my student, after all. I am Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“You were Master Obi-Wan’s master!” 

“And Master Yoda’s, too,” brags the ghost, enjoying the awe of Luke’s epiphany, but this is a boast too far, and Luke’s face falls into lines of skepticism.

“That can’t be true,” he says. “Master Yoda is much too old to have been taught by you.”

“Ah, and must education end with the cessation of breath? Cannot knowledge outlast us? Cannot learning outlive us?”

“Can it?” asks Luke.

“We are more than what we do in life, my boy,” says Qui-Gon. He sits upon one of the larger stones which border the edge of the lake, leaving space beside him for Luke. “And there is much to be learned by death, for those brave enough to seek it.”

Luke frowns, and moves to join him, trying to puzzle out the ghost’s philosophy. 

“Are you suggesting -” he looks to the Jedi for confirmation, not convinced of his conclusion. “You’re not saying that we should just give in, are you? That we should just accept death when we could stop it?”

“Not at all,” says Qui-Gon, and Luke relaxes upon the stone. “It’s good that you fight. It’s important you fight. Don’t rush to death in the vain hope that it will bring you easy satisfaction. Life and death - they are balanced. They are equal. And there is much value to be found in both.”

“Is that why Ben let go?” Luke asks. 

“Obi-Wan was wise to concede his life,” says Qui-Gon. “But that does not make his loss any more bearable for you. Or for me. And though I am glad to be with him once again, I will always wish he’d had more time with you.”

There is a smear of clay grown dry upon his knee, and he brushes it off with one hand.

“Me, too,” he says to the ghost.

“But that is Obi-Wan’s lesson for you,” says Qui-Gon, his voice ringing clear across the lake. “He knows what it means to let go, but I -” he says. “I am here to show you how to hold on.”

And in the crystalline light of the caves, and the glittering warmth of the ghost, Luke learns of his lineage, and his family, and all the ways in which he is never alone. Qui-Gon speaks of the past. He tells him of a little boy who struggled and overcame, and a little boy who struggled and fell, and how neither of them loved the other any less. He tells the story of an ancient Order, and a girl queen; of a duchess, and a knight; of children lost to their parents, and parents lost to themselves. He tells of blood, and consequences, and desire, and regret, and joy, and sorrow, and how it all lives on in memory, and in stories, and in relics, and in paintings, and in river stones, and in muja dai-ungo, and in him.

“There is nothing lost,” says Qui-Gon. “So long as you choose to remember it. Neither life, nor love, nor people. Hold on. And don’t let go.”

And as he fades away into darkness, the song of a single crystal cries out, drawing Luke up, and up, and out of the black of the caves into the evening sun.

At the mouth of the hollow, standing with the light in his hair, and Ben Kenobi in his eyes, stands Kiorkicek Kryze. In his hands, a sabre, the kyber inside calling out.

And when Luke touches the hilt, he knows that this one is his.

“I thought it might be you,” says Kryze, smiling. He shifts Luke’s bag high against his shoulder and turns to the setting sun. “Come on,” he says. “They’ll be waiting for us.”

And when he finally returns to his ship, and Artoo, and programmes a course for home, Luke leaves Dantooine by himself, but he is not alone.

[ladyvader23]

The School Play

For @slx99, who inspired me to write this little Dad Vader piece! I also have no idea if walrus’ exist in the Star Wars universe, but THEY DO NOW! 

I also take requests!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vader stared in horror at the announcement slip his children had brought home from preschool. 

Apparently, the children would be putting on a play--or, rather, a presentation, if the description was anything to go by. The school had the children research a topic, and the children would be putting on a dramatic retelling of what they’d learned. It actually sounded terribly boring, but he’d read in that parenting book the children’s pediatrician had given him that supporting their interests, including school activities, helped foster confidence in children. An important quality in the two most important children in the galaxy, even if his presence would terrify everyone else in the room. 

The problem wasn’t the boring play. It was what his son was signed up to be. 

A walrus. 

A walrus. 

Leia had a stormtrooper, which was normal enough. But Luke had a walrus? How in the galaxy had he even had the misfortune of getting such an unfortunate aquatic creature?! 

He looked up at Miss Laena, who’d handed him the announcement slip in the first place. “My son will not play a walrus in front of a crowd of people!” 

The school the children went to was full of senator’s children, as well as other important Imperial figures, such as Grand Moffs, generals, and the like. Vader doubted most of those important figures would actually be at the play; most likely, their partners or nannies would go. But it did not matter. Word would spread fast that the son of Darth Vader had played a walrus. 

“Luke is very excited about the play, my lord.” Miss Laena said carefully. “It’s all he’s been talking about for weeks, now. I even helped him make the costume.” 

His stomach dropped. “There’s a costume?” 

It just got worse and worse. 

“Yes, my lord. I might be able to pull together another one in time, but it will break his heart.” 

Vader gritted his teeth. If this was any other assignment, he’d tell the boy to deal with whatever he chose for him, but he also didn’t need him crying on stage in front of everyone because he was unhappy. 

He would need to convince him. 

“Summon my son. I will speak with him.” 

Miss Laena hurried to do so, and soon the tiny form of his son came running into his office, immediately climbing (uninvited) into his lap. Vader had no change to stop him before his little arms wrapped around his neck with a hug. 

Despite the dire situation, he couldn’t help but melt a little under the embrace. 

“Hi daddy!” Luke said, pulling away after a moment, settling in comfortably on his leg. “Am I in trouble?” 

Perhaps that was the reason for the immediate hug. He would need to discourage such behavior in the future. 

“No, my son.” He reached up and ruffled his hair. “I just wanted to know why you were assigned to be a walrus in this play.” 

Luke brightened. “Oh! I’m going to be a walrus, daddy!” 

“Yes, but why?” Perhaps he hadn’t understood the phrasing of his first question. He struggled to speak on a level the twins would understand, at times. 

“Because I like them.” 

Vader winced. That would make it harder to convince him to change topics. 

“But why?” 

Luke shrugged. “They look funny.” 

And that was precisely why he didn’t want him to play a walrus in the first place. “Why don’t I help you choose something diff--” he cut off as Luke’s expression immediately began to fall, his eyes watering. 

“No, daddy, I wanna be a walrus!” 

Damn. 

Already, just from his presence alone, Vader could tell it would be far more of a fight to force him to choose something else than to just do the walrus. 

“...I will need to have a word with the school. But fine.” 

Immediately the tears were gone, and Luke threw his arms around him again before climbing off and running to find his sister. Vader watched after him, wondering how his children had so thoroughly wrapped him around their fingers, before he pulled up his datapad to send a message to the school principal to order that no footage be allowed at the play. 

If Luke insisted, he could at least make sure the incident was nothing more than a strange, unconfirmed rumor. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night of the play, he’d debated on pretending his schedule was too full to attend. That way, perhaps no one would notice that the son of Darth Vader was dressed as a walrus. It wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty of things to do instead anyway, but every time he thought about not showing up, the imagined disappointment in his children’s faces when they returned home was enough to guilt him into keeping the time reserved for the play. 

That didn’t mean he didn’t show up at the last possible second before they closed the doors for the performance. 

Naturally, the moment he walked in, a hush fell over the crowd of nannies and parents. He made a face when he recognized a few important officials there who were also apparently trying to be good parents despite their schedules. Normally he could respect that, but today of all days, he wished they’d remained at work. 

The principal, a short, portly man, came rushing over not long after he’d found a corner to stand in. “I have issued a strict no recording policy as you wished, Lord Vader.” 

“Good.” Vader crossed his arms, looking over his head to the curtained stage. “Because if there is any recording of my children distributed, I will personally pay you a visit.” 

The man paled, gulped, and nodded. “Understood, my lord.” Then he turned and rushed off. 

Moments later, the lights dimmed, and an announcement was made over a microphone to remind everyone of the very fact that no recording was allowed. He half expected them to use him as an excuse, but they mentioned nothing of the rule being a direct order from him. 

Hm. He might have mentioned it just to make sure, but if he had to dispose of the principal, he would not lose sleep over it. His children barely knew the man and wouldn’t notice if he disappeared. Perhaps he’d do it anyway just for the fact that someone in his staff showed the boy a picture of the infernal animal in the first place. 

Once the announcement was made, the “play” began. Sure enough, it was less of a play and more of various small children of different species in costumes reciting facts about whatever they’d researched for the parents. This was followed up by polite clapping, which he did not participate in. They were not his children, after all. He did not care, and he thought most of them were terribly boring anyway. 

He was also certain that none of these children had actually done their own research. What a complete waste of time and resources. 

But then came Leia. Somehow, Miss Laena had managed to help her construct an almost perfect replica of a stormtrooper armor set, fit perfectly to her petite size. The only thing that he could tell was real was the helmet, which she carried in her arms as more of a prop than anything else. 

When she walked onto the stage...as he suspected she would, she immediately acted as though the entire room was there for her. She squared her shoulders, looking over the audience with as high and mighty of a look that an almost five year old could muster. 

“Stormtroopers are soldiers who help protect the Empire.” She spoke clearly into the microphone. It was...well, as natural as a four year old could get, and a pang went through his chest at the thought of her suddenly looking very much like a mini version of her mother. “They serve over the whole Empire. They can be foot soldiers, or fly TIE fighters, like my daddy does.” 

He wondered if that was something she was supposed to say, or if she said it just because she was proud of what he did for a living. Not that she knew the full extent of that, but...he offered a rare, unseen smile nonetheless. 

“This is a real stormtrooper helmet. My friend let me use it tonight.” Friend? What friend? “Stormtroopers are not like clone troopers. They’re normal people like you and me.” 

He refrained from snorting at that. In his opinion, Clone Troops were far superior, but the Emperor did not seem to care for that opinion. 

“There’s also lots of types of stormtroopers. You can tell what they are because of their uniform. In conclusion, stormtroopers are pretty cool and I like them. They keep us safe, and are friends to all.” 

That...didn’t really make sense. But she was four, and again, probably had her lines written by someone else. Still, when she finished and did a little curtsy, he clapped proudly for the first time the entire show, then watched as she practically skipped off stage. 

Then...it was Luke’s turn. 

It was an experience to have one child give a basic but Imperial pride-supporting speech, then directly afterwards have another child walk out wearing a walrus costume to talk about an animal he’d never even personally seen before. He was sure that anyone who knew Luke was his son probably had a lot of questions he’d never answer right about now. 

But there Luke was, walking out wearing a well made, but monstrosity of a costume. He wore a dark gray, long-sleeved tunic that reached his knees, except that the sleeves ended well past where he knew Luke’s hands to be, and the end was in the shape of walrus flippers. A tail flopped around with each step Luke took, and his head was almost completely engulfed by a walrus-face hood. The face opening was framed by two giant tusks, what he supposed were whiskers, and at the top of the hood, giant eyes that Vader could swear were staring into his soul. 

And underneath, Luke had obviously painted his face. Probably the same color as the tunic. 

Half of Vader wanted to have the ground open up and swallow him whole. The other half was admittedly impressed with the lengths his son had put his nanny up to in making this costume. He was also dead certain that if Luke looked back on this costume as an adult, he’d be embarrassed beyond all reason. 

“Walruses are water animals who live on water worlds like Mon Cala.” Luke began, just as confidently as Leia. It was also obvious he was very proud of the whole thing; he was bouncing a bit in excitement, causing the tail to flop around constantly. Nearby, Vader heard a few parents coo adoringly at the display. 

He wondered if it would be noticeable if he used the Force to hold his son in place. 

“They can dive deep in the water, but they like to stay near land. They are really, really fat. Also, both the girls and the boy walruses have tusks, like this!” He reached up and tugged on the tusks, earning chuckles from the crowd. 

Well. Both of his children definitely liked to use visual aids. It was interesting to know, at least. 

“They also live for a super long time. Forty years!” Luke lifted his flipper-hands up in excitement. “They also can live in the cold because they’re fat. They like to eat fish. And they make these really funny noises, like--” then Luke proceeded to demonstrate, and more laughter erupted around the room. 

As well as Luke was doing, Vader couldn’t help but curse whoever had even shown the cursed animal to his son. He would definitely be finding a replacement for the principal after he was through with him. 

What had he done to encourage such a fascination with the animal? He was from the desert, so this had to be something from his mother’s side of the family, he was sure of it. 

But Luke seemed pleased by the audience’s reaction. He himself would have to ensure this incident never left this room, but at least his son was happy. 

“So yeah, I like walruses. They’re funny looking, and that’s why I chose to tell you about them.” Then, with that said, Luke made a bow, and the audience erupted in far more clapping than had been heard the entire night. Luke straightened, grinned, then ran off stage, his tail and flippers flapping wildly behind him. 

Well. It was certainly the most interesting part of the night, he thought as he clapped for his son. And despite being a walrus, his son was perfect. Just...had some odd interests that he sincerely hoped he grew out of. 

When the show ended, Vader waited uncomfortably by the doors for his children. Plenty of parents and their costumed kids walked by, all giving him a wide berth. He ignored them all, scanning the crowd for his children. He could sense them coming, but for whatever reason, they kept stopping. 

Finally, he saw the small figures of Luke and Leia pushing their way through their crowd, beaming smiles on their faces when they saw him. 

“Daddy!” Leia crowed, and he quickly reached out to place his hands on their shoulders before they could try to hug him. He had grown used to their hugs in private, but they were still learning that it was not permitted in public. “Did you like my play?” 

“You did well.” He confirmed, patting her head, which caused her to make a face and pull away. 

“Don’t mess up my hair.” She muttered. 

Luke had pulled the hood down and his painted face looked up at him. “What about mine, daddy? Lots of people told me they liked it.” He paused, frowning. “Did you?” 

Vader paused, deciding how to phrase it. He did not like that he was parading around in a ridiculous walrus costume, but the whole point of him coming to this ridiculous excuse for a play was to support his children and build their confidence. He could not ruin it by telling his son that he hated the animal he was portraying. “You played your performance well, my son. I am proud of you both.” 

Yes. That seemed safe. And to his satisfaction, the twins beamed up at him. But the moment was ruined when Luke asked, “Can we go to Mon Cala to see the walruses?” 

“Yeah! Let’s go, daddy!” Leia added. 

He paused for a few breaths of the respirator. “Mon Cala...is not safe for humans.” 

Luke frowned. “But my friend said he went, and--” 

“Why don’t I take you to a zoo, instead?” Then maybe Luke would see a different, less embarrassing animal to portray next time. Or maybe he’d lose interest in animals completely. 

Luke considered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay daddy.” He paused. “Can I be a walrus for Trick Or Treat?” 

Again, he paused, trying to come up with an answer that would not hurt his son’s feelings. “Why don’t you wait until after we go to the zoo?” 

Luke also seemed to accept this answer, and Vader took his children's hands in his own, and led them from the theater. 

Vader made sure to give pointed glares at anyone who dared look their way.

[ahsoka-lives]

Iris pt. 1

The Elevator  Inquisitor!Cal x Reader- Parts 2&3 are up now!

Word Count: 1417

Warnings: none. nosmutyet

A/n: I cannot write summaries to save my life but this is the first part of a series I’m doing for Cal because I love him sm and there just is not enough fics for him! Pleaseeee be gentle I haven't written in ages but I am open to constructive feedback. Ty!!!  I Forgot to put this in when I originally posted so I’m sorry about that but, the gif is NOT MINE. It’s by @calkesttiss​ 

   You considered yourself lucky. There were thousands of jobs to fill throughout the Empire, and you had managed to get one of the more comfortable ones. You were a droid technician on a remote imperial base where high ranking officers, special forces, and the ever-intriguing inquisitors lived when not doing the empire’s bidding. Unfortunately for you, there were more droids aboard the ship than people meaning your days were often busy. Each room was equipped with a kitchen droid and an automated laundry machine etc. Its a bit ridiculous, but you were in no position to make such comments. 

You had just finished your last appointment for the day, the light control panel had given out in someone’s office, and you were making the fairly long walk back to your living quarters. As you walked past the massive training room you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander over the last few who were still going at it at this hour. Your eyes linger on a man who was blocking blaster shots fired from a training droid with a staff. His back muscles flex with every subtle and not so subtle movement of his arms that were equally toned. You felt your breath catch in your throat when you caught a glimpse of his face. He was beautiful. His hair was a brilliant reddish-orange that contrasted well with his black training gear. His jaw was sharp and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. And his eyes were such a nice compliment to his freckles, a deep green that reflected the light emitted by the blaster, and oh they were staring right at you.

Oh, Gods. How long had it been since he realized you were being a creep! A blush burned into your cheeks as you quickly turned to continue down the hall as fast as you could without running. What was Wrong with you?? Why did you have to drool over the possibly very dangerous man who was training to be more dangerous? You sigh to yourself as you reach the elevator and quickly push the button and step inside. 

“Safe at last.” You mutter as you enter your floor code into the elevator pad. A light ding sounded and the doors began closing and they were so so close to shutting but you just weren’t that lucky. A hand shot between the doors causing them to hum open again. Tall and lean, the man you had been gawking at stepped in beside you. 

You stiffened and forced your eyes ahead of you, wanting to avoid all and any eye contact. You can’t believe your luck. All this time on this base and you had managed to keep yourself out of any distasteful situations. And now, here you are chest pumping, eyes frozen ahead of you and thinking of how quickly he could take you out. Hell, he was probably trained for it and the men(and women) who resided here did not handle disrespect well. You frequently had to repair damages caused by the temperamental and egotistical residents. You recall how defined his arms were as the thought of them being used to snap your neck crossed your mind, only to be interrupted by the feeling of someone standing unbelievably close to you. 

An arm was reaching over your shoulder with ease to input another floor causing you to gasp lightly. His chest was radiating warmth and it seeped across your shoulders and back. Before he could finish punching in his floor code you were shuffling away from him, putting as much space between you and his enticing warmth. 

“Sorry, I- I wasn’t paying attention.” The words just tumble from your lips before you catch your brain forming them. 

“Was I that distracting?” He muses now leaning against the elevator wall, relaxed and now he is the one staring. You feel his eyes burning holes into your head.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Great plan. Just pretend nothing ever happened. You almost want to laugh at yourself. 

“Oh, so that was someone else’s heart I could feel pounding when I caught your eyes? Good to know.” You could practically hear the smirk forming on his lips. 

Bing! Sweet relief, how long was that elevator ride?? 

“No, sorry you must be mistaken.” You rush your words and hurry to get off but your wrist is caught in his warm and surprisingly comforting hand- you’re cursing yourself for your thoughts and turn to face him. You’re certain your heart had stopped all together now. He was so close. His eyes boring into yours as you tried to wipe the scared look off your face. 

“There’s no need to be afraid of me. I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice is deep and gentle as his eyes scan your face. He is so much prettier up close. His lips are a subtle pink and you can’t help but think how they might feel agains- Wait.. was he smirking again?

You snap out of it and you take your wrist from his grasp. You realize how flustered the elevator made you as you take in the free air. You also realize the man was now wearing a sweater, also black, but the most surprising was the symbol on the right side of his chest. He’s wearing the badge of an Inquisitor. 

“Are you always this quiet...” He pauses and leans a bit toward you to read your ID badge. “Y/n” He sighs your name testing it on his tongue, seeing how it tastes. A small smile creeps onto his face and steps back into the elevator, letting the doors seal and finally carry him away. 

You turn and rush to your room. You quickly lock the door behind you as if he would be knocking on your door at any moment. And if he wanted to, he could. Inquisitors are the highest ranking in the building. They lead the special forces units and the officers. They’re force-sensitive assassins with the utmost skill. Hell, some can even read minds. They each have their own private hall and keep mostly to themselves. They live by a different set of rules than the rest of us, they have more leeway to do as they please. It makes sense, with what they do for the empire, they must be kept content. 

But what did that mean for you? He had said he didn’t want to hurt you which is a good sign. 

You sigh and make your way to the shower. You turn on the water and let it warm up while you strip off your uniform. A simple pullover sweater and pants, your dress code was relaxed since you work where people live. You step under the warm water and let your brain unwind. Before you know it, your mind is back on the Inquisitor. Maker, he was pretty. Strong, agile but also somewhat kind and reserved. He gave off confidence but it wasn’t arrogance. Your mind wandered to his hands and how his touch felt against your skin, it made something swell inside of you that you almost didn’t recognize. 

You groaned and shook your head. You did Not want to end up being tied to an Inquisitor. Could they even be involved with someone? You tell yourself you shouldn’t even care because it was never going to happen. Why are you even assuming he wants anything to do with the girl he caught staring at him from across the room? 

After turning off the water and wrapping yourself in a towel you pick up your clothes to carry to your room. A light thud makes startles you, your ID had fallen from your sweater. You pick it up and glance over it, a nervousness comes over you as you remember that your badge not only says your name but your occupation and call number. 

How much attention had the Inquisitor paid to your badge? 

Beeeep boop beep!

A notification sounded on your tablet, someone booked an appointment with you. 

“Read it to me, B-5.” You call to your droid who was cooking dinner in your kitchen. 

“Appointment for Malfunctioning BD-1 Droid at 0900 Hours. Location: Floor level 7, Cal Kestis.” Your droid recites. “Would you like to see the full card, y/n?” 

“Sure pull it up, B-5” You couldn’t remember issuing anyone a BD-1 droid so they must have brought it in themselves. You go meet your droid companion in the kitchen and  there was the answer to your question, one of them anyways.

The Inquisitor paid great attention to your badge. 

[strangeandforlornbooks]

best books with morally ambiguous narrators!

all y’all’s problematic faves and villains! :) also included are third person narrators but in books with morally ambiguous leads/themes 

Sci-fi

Scythe by Neal Shusterman: in a future free from pain, disease, and war, people can live forever. ‘scythes’ are given the power to decide who lives and who dies to preserve the balance. sad and kinda gives of hunger games vibes, if you like that.

Neuromancer by William Gibson: basically invented the cyberpunk genre. strange and removed protagonists. (a team of computer hackers have to face off against an evil AI). you kind of dislike everyone and suddenly you’re crying over them. one of those trippy sci-fi classics.

The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut: very beautiful and very very sad (same author as slaughterhouse five). the richest man in america has to face a martian invasion. more about free will and bad people doing good things than a plot that makes any kind of sense.

The Man in the High Castle by Philip K Dick: set in an alternate universe where the germans and japanese won world war two. not really like the tv show at all- it’s not an action story, and there’s not really the hope to somehow fix the world that drives a lot of dystopia stories. instead its about how people survive and connect to one another in a hopeless society.

The Scorpion Rules by Erin Bow: a supercomputer convinces the leaders of the world to keep the peace for hundreds of years by taking their children hostage and obliterating any city that disobeys. what happens to the hostage protagonists when war seems inevitable? lots of morally fraught decisions and characters slowly losing their identity. (plus a fun lesbian romance)

Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson: a brilliant mathematician and a dedicated marine fight to keep the ultra secret in world war two. fifty years later,  a tech company discovers what remains of their story. one of the most memorable sequences in the book is a japanese soldier slowly becoming disillusioned with his nation and horrified by the war even as he continues to fight.

Blade Runner by Philip K. Dick: another one of those sci-fi classics that’s not at all like the movie. there is a bounty hunter for robots, though, as well as a weird religion that probably is referencing catholicism and a decaying society with a shortage of pets. kind of a trip.

Wilder Girls by Rory Power: girls trapped in a boarding school on an isolated island must face a creeping rot that affects the animals and plants on the island as well as their own bodies. the protagonists will do anything to survive and keep each other safe. very tense (and bonus lesbian romance whoo)

The Fifth Season by N K Jemisin: three women are gifted with the ability to control the earth’s energy in a world where those who can do so are forced into hiding or slavery. some veryyyy dark choices here but lots of strong female characters.

Historical Fiction

Fingersmith by Sarah Waters: two victorian lesbians fall in love as they plot to betray each other in horrific ways. lots of plot twists, plucky thieves, gothic settings, and a great romance.

Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiwicz: a powerful roman soldier in the time of Nero plots to kidnap a young woman after he falls in love with her, only to learn more about the mysterious christian religion she follows. very melodramatic but some terrific prose. 

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr: a blind girl in France and a brilliant German boy recruited by the military struggle through the chaos of the second world war. ends with a bang (iykyk.) very sad, reads like poetry.

Boxers by Gene Luen Yang: graphic novel reveals the story of a young boy fighting in the boxer rebellion in early twentieth century china. the sequel, saints, is also excellent. beautifully and sympathetically shows the protagonist’s descent into evil- the reader really understands each step along the way.

Fantasy

Three Dark Crowns by Kendare Blake: three triplets separated at birth, each with their own magical powers, have to fight to the death to gain the throne. lots of fun honestly

Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo: everyone in these books is highly problematic but you love them all anyway. a ragtag game of criminals plan a heist on a magical fortress. some terrific tragic back stories, repressed feelings, and revenge schemes.

The Dark Tower series by Stephen King: idk how to describe these frankly but if you can put up with King’s appalling writing of female characters they’re pretty interesting. fantasy epic about saving the world/universe, sort of. cowboys and prophecies and overlapping dimensions and drug addicts galore.

The Amulet of Samarkand by Jonathan Stroud: lots of fun! a twelve year old decides to summon a demon for his cute lil revenge scheme. sarcastic demon narrator. lighthearted until s*** gets real suddenly.

Elegy and Swansong by Vale Aida: fantasy epic with machiavellian lesbians and enemies to lovers to enemies to ??? to lovers. charming and exciting and lovely characters.

The False Prince by Jennifer Nielsen: an orphan boy must compete with a few others for the chance to impersonate a dead prince. really dark but very tense and exciting and good twists.

The Grace of Kings by Ken Liu: fantasy epic. heroes overthrow an evil empire and then struggle as the revolution dissolves into warring factions. interesting world building and three dimensional characters, even if they only have a small part.

Circe by Madeline Miller: the story behind the witch who turns men into pigs in the odyssey. madeline miller really said, i just used my classics degree to write a beautiful gay love story and now im going to write a powerful feminist retelling because i can. queen. an amazing and satisfying book that kills me a lil bit because of the two lines referencing the song of achilles.

Heartless by Marissa Meyer: the tragic backstory for the queen of hearts in alice in wonderland. a little predictable but very fun with a compelling protagonist

A Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones) by George RR Martin: ok I know we all hate GRRM and rightfully so but admittedly these books do have some great characters and great scenes. they deserve better than GRRM though. also he will probably never finish the books anyway....

A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket: not really fantasy but not really anything else either. plucky, intelligent, and kind children fight off evil plots for thirteen books until suddenly you realize the world is not nearly as black and white as you thought. 

Classics

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier: gothic romance!! a new wife is curious about the mysterious death of her predecessor in a creepy old house in the British countryside...good twists and lovely prose.

A Separate Peace by John Knowles: not really morally ambiguous but one awful decision suddenly has awful consequences and certain people are haunted by guilt forever.... really really really beautiful and really really really sad. boys in a boarding school grow up together under the shadow of world war two.

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy: while imperial russia slowly decays a beautiful young woman begins a destructive affair. a long book. very russian. the ending is incredibly tense and well written.

Lord of the Flies by William Golding: I think you know the plot to this one. the prose is better than you remember and the last scene is always exciting.

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie: one by one, the guests on an island are slowly picked off. one of Christie’s darkest mysteries- no happy ending here! very tense and great twists.

Contemporary

The Secret History by Donna Tartt: inspired the whole dark academia aesthetic. college students get a little too into ancient greece and it does not end very well. lovely prose but I found the characters unlikable.

Honorable Mentions

The Dublin Saga by Edward Rutherford: has literally a billion protagonists, but some of them are morally ambiguous ig? follows a few families stories’ from the 400s ad to irish independence in the 20s. beautifully captures the weight and movement of irish history.

Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer: how morally ambiguous can you be if you’re, like, eleven? a lot if you’re a criminal genius who wants to kidnap a fairy for your evil-ish plan apparently!

Redemption by Leon Uris: literally my favorite novel ever. the sequel to Trinity but can stand alone. various irish families struggle through the horrors of world war one. the hero isn’t really morally ambiguous, but the main theme of the novel is extremely bad people suddenly questioning their choices and eventually redeeming themselves. sweeping themes of love, screwed up families, redemption, and patriotism.

The Lymond Chronicles and House of Niccolo by Dorothy Dunnett: heroes redeem themselves/try to get rich/try to save their country in early renaissance Europe. if I actually knew what happened in these books I'm sure it would be morally ambiguous but its too confusing for me. in each book you spend at least a third convinced the protagonist is evil, though. lots of exciting sword fights, tragic romances, plot twists, and kicking english butt.

Bonus: Protagonist is less morally ambiguous and more very screwed up and sad all the time

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt: you know this one bc its quoted in all those quote compilations. basically the story of how one horrible event traumatizes a young man and how he develops a connection to a painting. really really really good.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro: hard to describe but strange... not an action novel or a dystopia really but sort of along those lines. very hopeless.

[darknessisafriend]

The world will be ours Part 2

OMG I am excited to present you this second part! Slow burn for this chapter but I just love teasing ;) 

For those who’d like to read part 1, click here

Part 2

The rest of travel went well, Commodus was no longer ignoring you, and you enjoyed both his company and Lucilla´s. For now he had been the opposite of the stories you had heard about him. Still he didn´t really get closer to you, at least you didn´t notice it, he was much closer and affectionate to Lucilla, after all she was his sister; maybe he will change his attitude towards you when the wedding will be celebrated.

When you finally reached Rome, you were astonished by its beauty; the architecture was unlike anything you had ever seen. Commodus noticed your wonder and smiled proudly.

“Have you ever seen such beauty? It is worthy of gods…” he commented with marvel in his eyes, and he was right. The both of you stayed silent for a moment, enjoying the view, until he spoke again.

“I have something for you…” curious you turned your head to look at him, you hadn´t noticed the little box he was holding in his hands. He opened it to reveal a golden ring; it was finely sculpted and had the embroidery of the Empire embedded in it. Astonished you looked up at him, his eyes were still on the ring, he took it out of the box and extended his hand to you, so you could rest your left hand in his, his skin was warm and softer than you had imagined.

“It is a gift; I offer you this ring as a thank you for giving me the honor to become your husband and as a token of my duties to you.” He pronounced solemnly as he slides the ring on your third finger. Even if you knew it was the tradition to give such object to the future bride it still made your head spin, it was so romantic of him.

“Thank you.” You answered sincerely with a bright smile, if it wasn´t improper you would have given him a kiss, for now you contented yourself with a light caress on his palm, he slightly bowed his head in response, a small smile playing on his lips.

Right before entering the city, Commodus and Lucilla went onto the imperial carriage. You went in another which would follow them; after all you were not officially his wife yet. As the cortege went through the city, you had to force your mouth shut, you had never seen such crowd gathered, it was like in a dream, petals of flowers were thrown, people were cheering, it was a wonderful sight, you couldn´t help but feel pride at being part of this cortege, you knew you were going to enjoy such position in Rome.

Of course, your enjoyment got a bit slowed down when you heard some angry shouting headed to the new Emperor, you frowned. You were perfectly aware of Commodus reputation but you never thought Roman citizens would be this hostile to him, didn´t they know the danger they exposed themselves to?

The carriage finally arrived in front of the imperial palace. You noticed a group on men in white togas, the Senate; they were greeting the new Emperor, and were probably eager to inform him of important matters requiring his attention. You followed as he got off the carriage, a young boy ran down the stairs, and threw his arms around Lucilla, it was his son Lucius then, you smiled touched by this scene. You directed your gaze to Commodus; he walked to the senators, so you closely followed him. Other children were there, giving him flowers, which he then handed to you with a polite smile.

After greeting him, one of the Senators, Gracchus, looked at you.

“Y/N our future Empress I believe. I am pleased to announce that this union was approved by the gods” He spoke respectfully, Commodus nodded although he seemed uneasy, but before you could think more about it, you were introduced to other senators like Falco for example.

Unfortunately, you didn´t have time to rest, Commodus had to attend his first session with the Senate. You sat next to Lucilla, observing the session; it was your first time seeing the Roman political process. Gracchus started, Commodus was playing distractively with his sword as if he was bored or ready to fight any one who dared to oppose him, and this idea sent shivers down your spine.

“…to combat the plague which is already springing up there. So if Caesar…” Commodus lifted his hand to make Gracchus go quiet, he got up.

“Don’t you see Gracchus? That’s the very problem isn’t it? My father spent all his time at study. At books and learning and philosophy, he spent his twilight hours reading scrolls from the Senate. And all the while the people were forgotten…” he pointed out. He was right, even where you are from; it was taking ages to have decisions from Rome and in the meantime problems worsened.

“But the Senate is the People, sire. Chosen from among the people, to speak for the people.” Argued Gracchus.

“I doubt that many of the people eat as well as you do Gracchus, or have such splendid mistresses, Gaius; I think I understand my own people.”

“Then, perhaps Caesar will be so good as to teach us…out of his own extensive experience” replied Gracchus sarcastic, and the senators started laughing. You couldn’t believe it, he may be the new emperor but he should be considered as such and yet they dared to mock him openly.

“I call it love…I am their father. The people are my children. And I shall hold them to my bosom and embrace them tightly…” he looked lost in his thoughts, his dreams of a great empire where everyone is happy under is benevolent reign.

“Have you ever held someone dying of the plague, sire?” the senator raised his voice, like he was losing patience. Commodus slowly turned, his patience diminishing fast too.

“No but if you interrupt me again…I assure you that you shall” he threatened with a dangerous smile, if it was the only way for him to be respected by Gracchus then so be it. The senator lowered his head in submission, good… but suddenly Lucilla got up and spoke.

“Senator, my brother is very tired. Leave your list with me” She asked as Commodus left. You didn’t really understand why she had intervened; her brother had to be respected.

You decided to follow your future husband, and as you left, you heard Gracchus say “My lady, as always your lightest touch commands obedience.”  You definitely didn’t trust this senator; he was too confident and condescending for your taste.

Meanwhile Commodus was pacing in his study, irritated, his breathing was fast, he didn´t expect to be treated this way.

“Who are they to lecture me?” he fumed, you felt bad for him, they won´t let him prove his worthiness. You approached him gently.

“Commodus don’t…” you started wanting to soothe him, but he cut you off irritably.

“Not now Y/N.” you lowered your eyes, maybe he needed some time alone to think, you had simply wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t be upset with their pitiful behavior. You took a few steps back, to give him some space.

“Commodus the Senate has its uses.” Spoke Lucilla forcefully has she came in. And to your surprise he didn´t cut her off or anything…so he just didn´t want to hear you then? You swallowed down at this idea but you kept hope that this was just a coincidence, nothing against you…

“What uses? All they do is talk. It should be just…you and me and Rome.” He argued; Lucilla quickly glanced at you; you really felt out of place, what he had just said hurt your feelings. He was so soft with her and tolerated everything she said, even if it was against him. You truly didn´t understand why he was behaving this way with you, especially after the few gentle moments you had shared with him.

“Don’t even think it! There’s always been a Senate” he angrily put his crown on the table. You stayed at your place when he walked to his throne with Lucilla. They were having a heated and passionate discussion about the greatness of Rome. You would have gladly participated in such debate, but the way they were talking, it was like they had forgotten the world around them; and to be honest you didn’t want to be subject to his frustration, again.

“I will give the people the greatest visions of their lives.” He said as he kissed her hand fondly, closing his eyes while doing so. You clenched you jaw, you wished it had been you, you lowered your eyes once again, then left to go to your quarters, they probably didn’t even notice you’d left anyway…

You spent the rest of the day by yourself in your quarters, upset by his sudden change of behavior. As you were about to go to sleep, Lucilla came to visit you, you gave her a small smile, you could tell by her face that she knew exactly why you were upset.  She sat next to you on the bed, and took your hand. You spoke first, letting out your frustration.

“None of us have the choice but marry each other, but that doesn´t mean we have to hate each other; I believed we could at least be friends… “

“He doesn´t hate you Y/N…”

“I just wanted to help him…he didn´t even let me speak…” you lamented, looking at the marble floor.

“It wasn´t against you personally, he will change, once the marriage celebrated, he will see your true value.”

“It was going so well before we arrived…I thought…what´s changed?” you asked, deeply upset and confused. She sighed, gently stroking your hand.

“He just has a lot in his mind right now…and he only ever had me before, he doesn´t know whatever he should or could trust you just as he trusts me, but I assure you with time he will trust your judgment” she finished. You wanted to believe her, you hope she was right…

Three days passed, Commodus was very busy, you barely saw him, most of the time, you would hear his voice from afar, see his shadow quickly passing in a corridor, and even when he was standing right next to you, he barely acknowledged you. Even if you had Lucilla to talk with, and sometimes Lucius, you felt incredibly alone, you were starting to miss your home and if continued like this, you didn’t know how much time you could keep going. Especially that your feelings for him were growing stronger every day…even with his current behavior.

As the night came, you aimlessly wandered in the corridors, until you passed in front of the Emperor’s quarters, you heard Lucilla’s voice.

“Commodus drink this tonic.” Silently, you hid behind a column to observe him. He drank what she gave him and made a face at the taste of the elixir. Lucilla had told you earlier that he was having insomnia for the past days, probably due to his dreams for his Empire.

“I think the time is almost right. I could announce the dissolution of the Senate…at the celebration to honor our father. You think I should? Are the people ready?” he asked her, restless, bags under his eyes starting to be visible.

“I think you need your rest now.” You understood is eagerness, but you agreed with Lucilla for once, exhaustion won’t help him, and it was best to wait some more time before dissolving the Senate, time where the people will love him even more.

“Will you stay with me?” he requested, his voice almost pleading, desperate.

“Still afraid of the dark, brother?” she replies soften by his sudden childlike attitude. You wish you could hold him, and bring him to bed, caress his hair while he falls asleep.

“Still…always…stay with me tonight?”

“You know I won’t.” She refuses, her tone without appeal.

“Then kiss me…” you gasp silently at the scene, this wasn’t the feeling a brother should have for his sister. Instead, Lucilla kissed his forehead as she should, which briefly relieved you, “sleep brother.” And then she started to leave in your direction. She can´t see you, so as silently as possible you walked back to your quarters, your eyes were wet, if he was in love with Lucilla then there was no way for you to compete and make him fall for you.

As you thought you had smoothly escaped without being noticed, you heard Lucilla’s voice whispering behind you.

“Y/N?” you quickly turned your head to her, then resumed your walk to your bedroom, unfortunately she followed you. You passed a hand through your hair, you didn’t want to talk, you didn’t want to see anyone, you just wanted to be forgotten.  

“Did you see?” you nodded, tears starting to run down your cheeks, you avoided her gaze.

“I´m sorry Y/N…” you laughed ironically at her apology.  

“Y/N don´t pay attention to this, it´s…”

“It´s what? Nothing? He has no desire for me to be here; clearly he was simply being courteous with me before, I was foolish enough to believe he was developing feelings for me. I wouldn´t be surprised if he gets me killed in the coming days…”

“Stop speaking this nonsense Y/N!” she scolded, seizing your arms to shake you out of your trail of thoughts.

“He cares more about you than he dares to admit! Commodus is not being himself, he´s deeply affected by his opposition with the Senate…Rome is extremely deadly when it comes to politics; he is looking for comfort from the only person he has ever trusted, but he is looking for the wrong kind of comfort from me…he should be coming to you…”

“But he won´t…”

“He will. Y/N listen to me…I´m sorry, I should have scolded him when he disrespected you.”

“No need to apologize, what happened cannot be undone.” You replied, drying your tears with the back of your hands. Lucilla stayed by your side, talking with you, trying to soothe the hurt you felt, until you fell asleep, she covered your body with the thin sheet of the bed, and went to check on Lucius. She had to change things between the two of you, every day she felt her brother slip away from sanity, you were his only hope for stability and happiness.

The morning after you slept longer than usual, it’s not like it mattered anyway. Then you realized something… the wedding was supposed to happen tomorrow! Days had passed so quickly.

But to be honest, after what happened, you weren´t excited, you often had imagined what this day would be like, your family, a man who loved you. Now you family wasn´t there and you doubted Commodus felt anything for you.  As you were dressed up you went to the library to read, but as you came out of your quarters, you collided into someone, hard, you gasped in surprise at the shock. You realized you had come face to face with the man you wanted to avoid, Commodus of course.  

“Good morning Y/N.” he greeted you politely with a courteous smile, no, you were not going to fall for his pretty words today.

“Caesar.” You replied coldly, using his official title. To your surprise, he quickly glanced at you, slightly taken aback; it was the first time you called him like this, you bowed your head and continued your walk to the library. Commodus eyes followed you, slightly troubled by your sudden coldness, he’ll have to talk to Lucilla about this.

You spent most of the morning reading, you were even joined by Lucius and enjoyed a philosophical conversion with him, he was clever for his age, probably thanks to his mother’s influence.

“You know Lucius, the most unfortunate people of the Empire, they are the most important, do you know why?”

“They are the one in the fields, the workforce of Rome.” He answered confidently.

“Not only, they are numerous, and they are the one with the most ferocious will if they are ignored, capable to bring an Empire to its fall…never forget them.” You advised him, smiling as he listened to you carefully. You didn’t notice Commodus leaning against one column, listening to your conversation. Lucius noticed first, you turned your head to see what he was looking at that. When you saw the Emperor, your smile faded.

“Lucius, why don’t you go see your mother.” Said Commodus, the question coming out as an order; the young boy left, leaving you alone with Commodus, who approached you.

“I offended you.” He stated, you slightly arched an eyebrow, curious about where this was going.

“How so?” you asked innocently, he chuckled and sat in front of you.

“Don’t play this with me Y/N, Lucilla told me I had been neglecting you too much.” You wanted to tell him how you felt but you didn’t want to risk ending up in a cell.

“You are the Emperor, you don’t have to justify yourself.”

“I know. You see she refused to spend time with me unless I spent some with you…I don’t really see an interest in it…” your blood was boiling, coming to apologize for offending you and yet he was doing it again “however she’s right. If you are to be my wife, I have to find pleasure in your company…”

“I thought you did when we were on our way to Rome.” He blinked a few times, and nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“It seemed to me we agreed on many things, including the future of Rome. And yet you prefer the company and advice of Lucilla who’s opposed to your vision for the Empire.” You truthfully explained, you saw his eyes become slightly threatening at the way you mentioned his sister. “I am not insinuating anything Commodus, I am merely stating facts, ask Falco if you don’t believe me.” You added with confidence.

“Care to play Latroncules?” he offered changing of subject, setting the boardgame on the table between the two of you. You nodded, if it could enable you to talk at open hearts it was a good opportunity. He started to play moving the first piece, then it was your turn.  

“How do you feel here? At the Palace…” he asked, thinking about his next move in the game.

“It is very nice, beautiful, I’ve never seen such fine artwork. I enjoy spending my time here” you said, looking at all the parchments in the room “Although I would enjoy more company.” He didn’t say anything, he simply listened to you while playing.

“How about you? Are you holding on?” you had to ask, softly, caring, it was hard for you to hide your feelings for him. He stopped playing, and looked at you in the eyes, you could tell he was surprised by your question, he didn’t expect you to care, once again. He sighed and looked to the side.

“It is harder than I expected. The roots of the Senate are buried deep…there are so many things I want to accomplish but this…it’s preventing me from executing my vision…”

“You feel exhausted, am I right?” he didn’t answer, avoiding your gaze, he didn’t want to show is vulnerability, yet it was so visible to you, his mind was getting tired, he couldn’t handle the whole Empire on his shoulders, he needed support and you will give it to him, no matter what.

The game continued for a while, you talked about many different things, from moments to moments it felt like the time in the carriage. Finally you won the game.

“Well played Y/N” he admitted, a small smile on his lips, he bowed his head respectfully. He got up, he had to get back to his duties. As he was about to leave the room, he stopped and slightly turned his head in your direction.

“I did enjoy your company…I have yet to decide if you deserve my trust.” He confessed in a low voice. Hope swelled in your chest, he did like you and you were going to do your best to earn his trust.

That day you went early to bed, the preparation for the wedding would start early tomorrow, you had to accomplish various religious rites with Vestals before the ceremony. Despite a bit of nervousness, your sleep was better, filled with dreams about your future with Commodus.

You were woken up at dawn, and after accomplishing the religious rites needed, an old woman came to dress you. You wore a long white robe; your hair were tied into six locks as according to the tradition, then the woman added flowers into them. Finally, a veil came to cover your face, and you wore golden sandals. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your mother would have been so pleased by your appearance; your fingers touched the fabric of the dress, it was made of silk, something you never wore before, it was such a beautiful piece, very soft to the touch.

The old woman came to tie the knot of Hercules around your waist, you had heard about it, only the husband could untie this knot, on the night of the marriage. You grew nervous at the idea of this; it was going to happen tonight, you wondered how it was exactly, was it as enjoyable as people said? Was Commodus going to be gentle with you or take you by force as some men did? It’s was a bit scary, so many things you didn’t know…

You were brought to the ceremony at the beginning of the afternoon. A lot of people were there, some senators, nobles. Your eyes landed on Commodus, he was waiting in front of the altar where the priest was. He turned as you arrived; you were struck by his beauty, he was dressed completely in white, being a perfect contrast with his golden crown and his dark hair. His eyes never leaved you once, they were soft, awestruck. You didn’t know that in his mind, it was like he was seeing you for the first time, like he only seeing your beauty just now. You looked so pure, like a goddess giving herself to the Emperor to thank him for his work on Earth. He swallowed down and refocused his attention on the priest. However his confusion didn’t go unnoticed to Lucilla, she smiled soften by his brother’s emotions.

The both of you stood before the priest as he spoke about the duties of the husband and of the wife, protection, fidelity, etc. Then, came the time for you to pronounce your vows. You turned to look a Commodus, you hoped your eyes showed your sincerity.

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.” You pronounced, which meant ‘Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia’, this sentence symbolizing the strong bond that was being established. Now it was Commodus turn, he was trying keep his face emotionless, but his voice was slightly shaking, his eyes filled with emotion, as if a marriage was for him a bigger deal than you thought.

“Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius” he spoke, meaning ‘Where you are Gaia, I am Gaius.’ He sounded so sincere, it seemed the night had got him thinking about is attitude towards you.

The Pronuba, the priest took your hands and those of Commodus, to join them together. Your heart skipped a beat, you had touched his hands before but now it felt so different, attractive, intimate. You wondered if Commodus felt the same thing.

The both of you turned to the altar where the Pronuba made an offering to Jupiter, it was a small cake especially made for the occasion. Then, he took half of it which he separated in two smaller pieces and handed one to each of you to eat, it was meant to protect your marriage.

As the ceremony was finished, Commodus stayed by your side, you received many congratulations from those present including Lucilla, she seemed relieved that her brother was finally having a wife. Then the time came to officially introduce to the people as the Empress of Rome. Commodus lightly took your hand, giving an encouraging smile and the both of you walked to the balcony of the palace, so that the People could see you. They were cheering outside, and there was a lot more citizens than you had expected. Commodus is smiling at the crowd, so you do the same and those closer enough to see your face cheered louder at your smile, warming your heart. Your husband leaned closer to your ear “they love you.” He told you, satisfaction filling his voice. This day wasn’t so bad after all you thought.

After this, a giant feast was organized, there so many different and delicious foods coming from every corner of the Empire that you didn’t know which one to eat first. Commodus was sitting next you of course, looking at his guest, you saw him wave at a servant and speak to him, you didn’t manage to hear what he said. The servant came back quickly and stood next to you with a wine bottle.

“Wine from the province of Gallia my lady.” Explained the man, it was wine from your home, he served it in your cup then Commodus’s.  

“I had it brought here especially for this day, well I asked for it the day I met you.” Proudly adds your husband, he really had wanted to please you and it did, it was like a part of your home was here with you now. You lifted your drink to him, and he did the same, you closed your eyes as the crimson liquid met your tongue, no wine could equal the one of Gallia.

Finally as the celebration came to an end, you and Commodus were escorted to the private area of the palace which in itself was a smaller palace in the imperial palace. You knew what was supposed to happen next, even though you had grown attracted to Commodus you couldn´t help but feel nervous, of course you had never had such intimacy and you hoped your husband would be gentle with you.

The two of you walked side by side in silence, until you arrived in the bedroom which was adorned with flowers, he stopped and turned to face you, he looked nervous having a hard time to meet your eyes. His hands slowly untied the knot around your waist, he carelessly tossed it on the floor, then softly his finger came up to cup your cheeks, you blushed at the contact, suddenly very aware that he was touching your face, it felt electric. He was looking at you intensely; his mouth slightly agape as if he was thinking on how to proceed next and your heart was racing.

“Go to sleep Y/N…I have to work on urgent matters.” His voice comes as a murmur as his hands left your face; his eyes grew emotionless once again. And he just left, leaving you alone in the room; you don´t how much time you stood like this, still processing what he had just said, it wasn´t supposed to go this way…

Tag list:  @stellargirlie @rosebloodstuffandthangss @clowndaddyfleck @lyoongx @skaravile  @hopelessdisasterr 

[fanfiction4thesoul]

In a Moment

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Word Count: ~2.7

Warnings: Fluff and swearing (I think - can’t quite remember), also really cheesy

Summary: Soulmate AU where when you meet the eyes of your soulmate, you relive their entire life and see a few scenes from your future together.

A/N: So I wrote this probably in the span of a few hours but over the course of like 3 weeks so please excuse any grammar mistakes. This semester has been killing me so I don’t have as much time as I would like. Anyway, I’ve always been a big fan of soulmate au’s of any kind, so I thought I’d take a stab at an unconventional one. I don’t know if I’ll write another part to this or not. I’m also contemplating doing a whole series of just different soulmate au’s for the fun of it. Okay, I’m done blabbing, enjoy!

“David, it’s 5 so I’m headed out!” You called back to the owner. It was actually passed 5 but you had stayed to finish up what you were doing. You really needed to get home and study. Exams were right around the corner and if you didn’t sit down and do some real work, you were afraid you might be in some trouble.

You worked at a quaint bookstore close to your university. It offered seating and a small cafe so it was hugely popular with the uni kids. They could come in and study or find a new book to read. Your boss even tried to keep some of the textbooks in stock just to raise business. 

Despite its success during the semester, it never seemed to be busy during exams. You supposed it was because everyone else studied at the libraries on campus. 

“Wait! (Y/N)!” David yelled out before you could get out the door. “Something came up and I have to run. Can you close the shop tonight? Please?”

You hesitated. David was a great boss and you wanted to help, but again, you needed to study. 

“I’ll pay you time and a half.”

Well then. “Okay, but you also owe me breakfast and a coffee tomorrow morning.”

“Deal. Thank you so much, see you tomorrow!” He yelled, barreling out the door in a hurry. 

You sighed looking back at the store front. Guess your day wasn’t over after all. 

The rest of the day went fairly slow, with only a small rush in the middle to fill the void. Customers dwindled as you went back and forth between the bookshelves and the cafe. Before you knew it, the store was dead and you still had a half hour to go. 

The store had marvelous ceiling to floor bookshelves that were beautiful to look at but such a pain in the ass to work around. There was unfortunately only one ladder that was used to reach the higher shelves and you always put it off. That ladder was a little rickety and the floors just uneven enough that you were always afraid you were going to take a tumble. But you literally did everything else you could. You even wiped down the tables twice. So there was nothing left to do but restock and inventory the higher shelves. 

You grabbed the ladder and moved it around enough until you thought it was as stable as it was gonna get. Grabbing a stack of books, you quickly climbed up and began rearranging. 

Everything was going fine. You got through most of the books. It’s when you got to the science fiction section that you felt the ladder wobble. 

Your eyes widened as you tried to steady yourself but your movement jolted the ladder and you lose your balance. Bracing for impact, you closed your eyes and tried to tuck your head in. Just as you thought you were going to hit the hard floor, a soft mass hit you instead and you landed with a small “oof.”

The warm mass that hit you groaned and you realized with a start it was another person. You quickly opened your eyes and shot up from the ground. Looking down, you found a man with long blonde hair spread out over the floor. His bag was thrown across the aisle with the contents spilled out. He rubbed his head, eyes scrunched closed as he sat forward. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You said. “Are you okay? Oh god, you didn’t get a concussion did you?” You were starting to panic a little. Whoever he was just saved you from a possibly hard tumble. But what if you hurt him instead? He probably hit his head on the floor. Can you get a concussion from that? Maybe you should call for an ambulance.

“I’m fine, love. Just smacked my head a bit but I’ll be okay. You’re not hurt, are you?” he asked, looking at his lap and getting his bearings. 

“I’m good, thanks to you,” you said, “here let me help.” You extended your hand out to help him and he finally looks up. Just as he grabbed your offered hand, his eyes met yours. 

And suddenly, you weren’t in the bookshop anymore. 

You’re playing a small drum set while your mother watches on with a soft smile.

You’re riding a bike down the street with your friends. You’re racing to the candy shop at the end of the corner.

You’re snogging a beautiful brunette behind the science building of your school. Her lips are soft but warm.

You feel the harsh slap of your father’s hand across your face. And you feel all the other blows after it.

You tap away a rhythm on the desk with your pencil while your professor drones on about something you already know. You still get reprimed for disturbing the class.

You’re lugging your drum kit to Imperial College after seeing an ad. You walk in with all the confidence in the world because you’re Roger fucking Taylor.

Memory after memory flooded your mind. A lifetime of them. And then you were back in the bookshop, but only long enough to realize that you weren’t Roger Taylor before you were off again.

You’re watching Roger from the wings of a stage as he pounds away on the drums. There are other people on the stage, but you only have eyes for him. He looks up and gives you a dazzling smile and a wink before turning back to the drums. You can feel your smile grow wider.

Roger has his arm around your waist as he talks into your ear. You’re sitting on a sofa together as a party rages around you. You mingled around for a while before you decided to take up residence on the sofa. You’re content just sitting there cheek to cheek so you can hear each other. You only pull away to take a drink or laugh, but also to watch the love and mirth dance around in his eyes.

You’re washing dishes at the sink. When you look out the window you see Roger being tackled by two little girls. They tumble to the ground but you can see them all laughing. An older blonde boy is smiling at the scene from behind a book. Roger grabs both girls, one under each arm and swings them up.

More and more scenes flashed across your mind almost as fast as you could process them.

Roger is smiling at you again. You’re walking down a busy city street hand in hand. He’s old and gray and you can feel his wrinkles against yours as he swings your joined hands between you. But you can still see his youthfulness shine through in his eyes. You break away and demand a race to the end of the block. Winner gets the last of the ice cream at home. You hear his resounding laugh behind you.

As the last scene fades in front of your eyes, you were slowly brought back to the store. 

The man   Roger   was still on the floor but looking up at you with such wonder in his eyes. And you knew exactly why. 

Because you lived his entire life in a matter of moments. It felt so strange. You lived Roger’s life - in its entirety. Only a few moments passed, but you just spent 20 some odd years getting to know Roger inside and out. It felt like an eternity. You knew why he grew his hair out, how long it took him to pick out his clothes today, what made him come to the store, and most importantly, his view on soulmates. 

Which was apparently that they were a load of bollocks. 

And he didn’t want nor need one. 

So while his face showed wonder, you knew yours was apprehensive. 

You never thought you’d be part of the lucky few that actually finds their supposed soulmate. But you most certainly believed in them. Perhaps because it’s a little girls fantasy to know there is someone out there made just for you. The romantic in you couldn’t help but sigh. 

Roger brought you out of your musings, scrambling off the floor to stand. He was still looking at you strangely, and you weren’t sure what was going through his mind. 

“You… that… did you see that? The memories? And the - the-”

“The memories you’re supposed to make with your soulmate? Yes, of course,” you said. Roger’s breath hitched a little when you said soulmate but otherwise didn’t react. You seemed to be the only calm one in the situation. You were almost worried Roger might have a panic attack. 

“I don’t… that is, I didn’t want…” he stumbled over his words. 

“You don’t want a soulmate. Roger, I know. I did just live your entire life. I can’t say I’m not disappointed though.” It stung. Not only because your soulmate was rejecting you. 

But because you loved him. 

Those who found their soulmates were often featured on the news. People interviewed said they did not fall in love instantly. That it wasn’t like they were hit with Cupid’s arrow and all the sudden loved the person. But rather they saw the person in their memories. They learned all their faults, saw them at their lowest, their highest. They had all the years of their soulmate’s life to fall in love with them. 

And now you could understand why. You watched Roger get pushed down by nearly everyone around him. But you saw him rise above that and become the kind, caring, if a bit cocky and arrogant man he is right now. How could you not love him? 

“No! Love, you’ve got it wrong. I thought that. And I know you just saw a lifetime of that but it’s different! Shit, I’m not explaining myself well I swear I’m more articulate than this.” He said, running a hand through his hair. One of his nervous habits. 

“I know.” You gave him a small smirk, trying to relieve some of his tension and your nerves. 

He got it after a moment and chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

“How about this,” you said, hoping to take the edge off some more, “why don’t I grab the book you came here for. You gather your things and your thoughts. I’ll meet you in the cafe, alright?” 

He hesitated for a moment, looking a little apprehensive before saying, “Alright, love. Just so long as you don’t need to climb that ladder. Don’t think we need you falling again.” 

You blinked and looked over at the ladder with the stack of books. You nearly forgot that happened. Even though you just saw through Roger’s eyes how you lost your balance and he attempted to catch you. Gosh, you were gonna get a headache at this rate.

“Don’t worry. No climbing necessary.” You gave him one last smile before turning around and heading towards the medical books you keep in the back area. 

When you got back, you saw Roger sat at the nearest table, bag thrown over the chair as he stared at his hands. 

“Here you go,” you handed him the book. 

He sighed, “Thanks, love. This is a life saver.”

“I know.” You smirked at him again. 

“Is this going to be a running joke?” He laughed.

“Only until it gets old.”

Silence covered you as you waited. He stared at you, making you squirm a little. 

“I think I’ve got my thoughts, if you’re ready to hear them.” He said quietly. 

You nod and watched as he started drumming his fingers on the table for a moment. 

“You know- knew my thoughts on soulmates. There’s no point reiterating that. But I guess you could say a moment changed that.” He tentatively reached across the table to grab one of your hands. You felt your cheeks heat up a bit as he gripped you tight. “I’ve seen your entire life, (Y/N), and you’ve seen mine.” You jolted a little at hearing your name come from him for the first time. After hearing his voice for years and years, finally having it directed at you seemed so strange. But not unpleasant.

He gave you this brilliant smile, lighting up his entire face. “I guess I finally realized what everyone was always talking about when they met their soulmate. It seems impossible and it goes against everything I believed. But in a moment, I fell in love with you.”

You worried your lip between your teeth as you gazed at him. His eyes were sincere and he seemed to mean it. But you also had memories of such sweet words being whispered to the conquest of the night. 

Roger shifted in his seat beginning to look a little uncomfortable. “Please say something, love. I may have been inside your head for the last 20 odd years, but I’m not in it now.” 

You stared at him for a few moments longer. Just when you thought he might burst, you say, “The… other girls.”

“Would you call me a sap if I said they were just distractions, even if I didn’t know it at the time? I’ve been passing the time, not knowing I’d end up here with you.” His smile was bashful though you could hear no lie behind it. 

You wanted to tease him a little though, “I would call you a sap, in fact. Because you always heckled your friends over believing in soulmates.”

“Aw, c’mon, love! I’m putting myself out here.” He pouted at you. 

You smiled. “And you deserve every second of this, Roger Taylor! But that’s okay, because I love you too.” 

It took him a second, but he finally processes your words. The smile was spreading across his face as his grip on your hand tightened. Suddenly, he was pulling you forward, leaning halfway across the table. 

Your face grew heated again as he was only a few centimeters away from you. His eyes roamed over your cheeks before looking into yours. Just as he leaned in and your began to close your eyes, the door jingled as it opened.

You were about to spring apart, embarrassed to have been caught, but Roger just gives you a smirk and yanks you to him. His lips are warm and soft and you let yourself melt into the kiss.

That is, until someone cleared their throat behind you. You reluctantly pulled away. Roger gave you a half smile and release his hold on you.

The customer that interrupted you was some girl your age looking for a book on medieval paintings. You were quick to find her what she needed, ring her out. All the while you felt Roger’s eyes tracking your movements. Whenever your eyes darted over in his direction, he was still sitting at the table, legs crossed and that beautifully annoying smirk on his face.

When you finally locked the door behind the girl, he gets up as well, meeting you at the door. “As much fun as I think we’d have locked in here by ourselves, I’ve got to get back to my flat and study for my exams. My roommate will have my head if I flake. I should have been back by now.” He looked apologetic, like he didn’t want to leave.

“Brian, right?” you ask. He gave you a nod. “I understand, I have to study as well.” Again, you nearly forgot about your own life with Roger’s still so fresh in your head.

“Look, (Y/N), now that I found you, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He pulled out a slip of paper and hands it to you. “Just in case you forget,” he said, tapping the side of his head. On the paper is his flat number. “Call me when your exams are done, yeah?”

You felt yourself slowly smile as you stuck the slip into your pocket. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

He kissed you again, just as sweetly as the first time. He left with one last backwards glance towards the shop, a huge smile on his face. You couldn’t help but lift your finger to your lips, reveling in the tingle he left there. Exams couldn’t be over quick enough.

[glorifiedsnickersbar]

Farthest North

Chapter 10 - Cinderella Didn’t Run

Word count: 1310

     The festivities were going smoothly, albeit early, and America was worried. Alaska hadn't shown yet, and he remembered she always wanted to help... so he gave her a later time than everyone else. It was only 5:52... maybe he was worrying too much... Then he saw her. At first a faint silhouette, but the light from inside made her stars sparkle on her face as she smiled sheepishly. The shorter Country marveled at the exquisite Kimono that adorned her. Blue and gold, an obviously expensive silk, and a small, elegant diamond necklace. 

         "Am... am I late?" she questioned, jolting the American from his stupor.

         "No, of course not," he smiled, sunglasses hiding his wide eyes, "They all came earlier."

At least it wasn't a lie.

     He led the grown State in, announcing her arrival, and everyone clapped, most having met her already, but a few hadn't. She smiled bashfully, a barely seen blush dusting her cheeks. America led her through the crowd, telling her all who were there. U.K., or Britain, hadn't seen the woman yet, and was quite surprised at her height, despite the stories he's heard. America exclaimed how he was so proud of his daughter, going through many Countries to finish the formalities.

     Japan sighed at the table, having spoken to Alaska already. She was with Germany and Russia, who weren't quite sure if this party was for Alaska or for America just to say how proud he was of her. Russia looked to the woman at their table.

         "You sound yike you just svooned." he snickered.

         "Shut it, baka*," she growled, "You can't say you didn't stare when she walked in, albeit for different reasons, not even Germany acted like he was disinterested!"

Said Country took a long pull from his champagne...

         "You being a matchmaker now?" Russia sneered.

         "No," she huffed, "Look at that Kimono! It's the prettiest I've seen! The design, the patterns. Someone took great care in it."

They watched as the State soon came to greet China. Alaska bowed, confused when he did not bow next, only to come up, bringing a hand to her mouth in surprise as he then bowed, a bit lower than hers.

         "He bowed lower?!" Japan screeched.

         "So?" Russia huffed.

         "No-no-no! You don't get it! China rarely bows anymore, once Imperial China died the tradition almost died with him, even I do it more than him and his people, if he's bowing then he holds her in very high esteem! And by that face I think she knows it."

The three watched as China brought himself up, his traditional garb nowhere near as elegant as hers, his red and gold contrasting to Alaska's blue. He led her away from America, who was about to protest, but thought better of it when his father looked toward him suspiciously.

     Japan bounced in her seat as she smiled, Germany calling her a 'dork' as he chuckled. She then started to mumble, failing to notice the two red and blue figures coming her way.

         "Oh I know! Chilaska!"

Germany spit his drink back into the glass while Russia wheezed, making the female Country look between them confused, until she finally saw the two shadows... She looked up sheepishly, a nervous smile on her face.

        "Hey," she waved.

         "Ni hao**, Japan," China looked very unamused, while Alaska shook her head with a small giggle, "Alaska wanted to make sure you all were doing well."

         "She can't ask us herself?" Russia laughed, wiping a tear from his eye.

         "China beat me to the punch," she explained with a sweet smile, "I'll assume you're doing well then, according to your snickers and Japan's starry eyed look."

Said Country had stood, wearing her own Kimono, the dusty pink like fallen Cherry Blossoms. She was able to get Alaska to step away from the other Country as she examined the work done. The seams were flawless, design made to fit her and her alone, and the colors were stunning.

         "Blue, for ascendance, and Gold, for wealth and value," China stated proudly, "A perfect combination."

         "I dhought it just matched her fy-ag," Russia stated, taking a long pull from the champagne bottle, much to Germany's disagreement.

         "Not everything simply means what's obvious," the man rolled his eyes.

         "Don't get all philosophical on us," Japan twittered, "You'll put them to sleep."

Alaska laughed, earning all four's attention as they smiled soft smiles. Her laugh was so sweet, like hot cocoa on a chilly winter's day, or a bright fire lighting up the room as you read a book. They wanted to hear it more often.

         "Forgive me China, I shouldn't laugh."

         "It's quite alright, my dear," he nodded his head slowly, glaring at Japan as she squealed, "It was a simple poke of fun anyway."

     The night continued on, Alaska having the time of her life as she mingled with other Countries. North Korea had taken quite the disliking of her, only coming because South Korea wouldn't stop pestering him, but the southern half seemed to like the State well enough. Saudi Arabia, despite his original vote to help the poor State, also disliked her, all because she claimed that she didn't want the oil he would have happily supplied. Of course she said it was a possibility for the future, but until then, he was a rival. She spoke with her adoptive grandfather, U.K. who simply adored her, but one question he just had to ask:

         "Why not wear one of your own ensembles?" he questioned, "I'm sure your people have many elegant designs."

         "Any elegance in our designs are ceremonial only," she explained, "unfortunately once I was adopted by America, and during my time beneath Russian Empire, most of my traditions were lost, along with such ensembles. That, and I'm afraid I didn't have anything fit for a formal gathering."

France felt her fashion sense tingle, tracking it all the way to her husband and Alaska. She greeted the State with a smile.

         "Oh how lovely you've grown," she cooed, "give me a turn, dearie."

She sighed at the elegant silk that adorned the woman.

         "Parfaite***," she giggled, "You must tell me, what designer created your flag? It's so simple yet elegant, matches you perfectly!"

         "No designer created it," Alaska shook her head, a soft smile becoming an amused one at France's confused expression, "Before I became a State there was a territory wide contest, for the children."

         "A child designed it?" France gasped, what a turn of events in her world.

         "A young Native boy named Benny Benson, he was 13," Alaska smiled, remembering that loved day, "His was chosen over 700 other participants. I memorized his description by heart:

'The blue is for the Alaska sky and the Forget-me-not, an Alaskan flower. The Northern Star is for the future state of Alaska, the most northerly in the union. The Dipper is for the Great Bear--symbolizing strength.' "

Alaska wiped away a tear, still smiling.

         "He was given to an orphanage after his mother died, so he depicted me as the prettiest thing he saw before going to bed each night, Ursa Major and the North Star. He was so excited when he met me in person. We were fast friends from then on."

France and U.K. looked to each other, then back up to the taller woman, each with a pained expression. Such irony littered in her past... A simple flower... Yet it described her future as well. Becoming a State... and her strength compares to no other it seems.

         "Pauvre cher *'..." France sighed, wiping away the last tear with her handkerchief, "Come, let us have some drinks," she suggested, and offered the State some champagne, but she declined, enjoying a simple sparkling cider.

--------------------

*Baka - fool (Japanese)

**Ni hao - good day (Chinese)

***Parfaite - Perfect (French)

*' Pauvre cher - you poor dear (French)

[juniperwindsong]

Dragonology 101 (2/10)

Summary: His fears of the future are the tinder, the dragon is the spark. And together they ignite a flame inside Felix he forgot he had.

Felix has never missed a class in his life, and it would take a lot more than a night spent trekking to and from the Forbidden Forest to see a real, live dragon for him to start now. His eyes snap open and he bolts upright from his bed where he had lain only two hours before, and knows without consulting his watch that he's late. He throws on his spare robes, not having taken the time to mend his clothes from the night before, flattens his hair to his head hurriedly, and summons his bag and books by magic. He sprints down the stairs from his dormitory and across the Slytherin common room, earning disbelieving stares from the few people sitting in it.

Class has already been in session for fifteen minutes before Felix arrives. He's lucky it's Charms as Professor Flitwick is more actively sympathetic to the stress of the seventh years than certain other teachers, and only lightly chides Felix as he takes his seat. Several people across the aisle smirk at him, and a Gryffindor girl he knows by sight whispers behind her hand to her friend. Both girls snicker, and Felix feels his cheeks heat slightly. He makes a mental note to dock points from them both for something or other after class is over.

While not exactly refreshing, Felix's short rest has been enough to clear his head and restore his focus. He successfully keeps his mind on his studies throughout the day, discipline preventing his thoughts from accidentally wandering to his adventure of the previous night. It isn't until he sits down to dinner, his History of Magic textbook open in front of him as he eats, that the memory is forced upon him by the arrival of Juniper Windsong at the Slytherin table.

Felix recognises her distinct pealing laughter over the chatter of the students around him. He looks up from his book to see Juniper throw herself onto the bench a few seats down, chatting animatedly with her friends Rowan Khanna, Penny Haywood, and Ben Copper. Her night's escapades do not seem to have dulled her natural ebullience. Felix watches as she piles her plate with potatoes, bright eyes fixed on Haywood who relates some meaningless gossip, and attempts to reconcile this version of Windsong, over-loud laughs and awkward energy, with the patient, focused girl of the night before.

Felix continues to steal glances toward the group of third years as they eat. Juniper is across the table from him, and there aren't so many people between them that she can't see him, but she hasn't looked his way. He toys with the idea of making up some excuse to pull her away from her friends (maybe sending them back to their own house tables) so he can talk to her, but he doesn't yet know what to say. There had been no resolution to their shared adventure last night, no discussion of how they would proceed the next day. And while Felix may have decided on a plan of action before he slept this morning, he has now begun to reconsider. If he turns her in, he'll implicate himself, having not only failed to stop her breaking half a dozen school rules but actually breaking them with her. Felix very much doubts the noble, blame-taking streak she had shown last year in that incident with Snape would stretch to leaving him out of the story if he gave her up*.

And if he tells a professor, a voice in Felix's head reminds him, he won't ever get to see the dragon again. Which he's definitely not going to do anyway. Probably.

"Hey!"

Felix's internal dialogue is interrupted by the very source of his consternation. Juniper's friends have left the Great Hall, but she has hung back, trotting down the table to where he's sitting and taking the seat across from him.

Felix looks up from the same page of A History of Magic that he's been staring at for the last ten minutes.

"Hey, yourself," he says with only a moderate amount of his usual affected disdain.

"So," begins Juniper slowly, not quite meeting his eye, "about last night..."

In the same instant that Felix considers this an unfortunate way to begin a conversation in the middle of a hall full of people, a fourth year Slytherin boy a few seats down chokes on his pumpkin juice and looks over at them with a knowing grin.

"Get out of it, Somerby, we're talking homework," Felix snaps at the boy. "Unless you want some mandatory extra transfiguration work."

That wipes the grin from the boy's face and he pushes himself up from the table muttering mutinously. Felix keeps his eyes on him until he's passed through the double doors and into the Entrance Hall beyond, then glances around to ensure there's no one else within easy eavesdropping distance.

"Do you always use the Great Hall to discuss your illicit activities?" he hisses.

Juniper shrugs unconcernedly. "It's the least suspicious place to be seen talking to people. And it's generally pretty loud, so it's hard to hear one private conversation."

Felix stares at her incredulously, then lets out a short, mirthless laugh. "How have you not yet been expelled?"

Juniper ignores this entirely.

"Look, I just wanted to say thank you. For letting me go last night. I know you don't approve of that kind of rule-breaking and I put you in a difficult situation and I really," she pauses, searching for the right word, "appreciate you helping me out. I promise I'll hide it so much better from you in future," Juniper finishes with a grin.

Felix has no idea what to say. He has a decision to make and he's more unsure of himself now than he has been in a long time.

It's madness to even consider letting this continue, his father's voice berates him and he knows that's true. But there's another voice in his head now, that doesn't sound like anyone else. The secret self he keeps hidden, can't show anyone because it isn't suitable, is awake at last and isn't going anywhere without a fight.

This is your last year of freedom, it reminds him, and you've never really appreciated it, not nearly enough. And Felix knows that's true as well. He's been completely focused on achieving perfection the last seven years, as if somehow, that would turn him into a person who could endure the fate laid out before him. But it hasn't. He still isn't ready, still dreads the thought of the future to come.

You'll never again have this chance. And the image of the dragon's eyes boring into his and the sound of its song burn inside him. Maybe, if he has just one adventure...one mad, irrational, incredible adventure, the memory of that will be enough. His fears of the future are the tinder, the dragon is the spark. And together they ignite a flame inside Felix he forgot he had.

-

Felix makes up his mind and focuses on his surroundings once more. He hasn't been paying attention to the way his mental battle has played out on his face, but the girl across from him now looks pale and slightly sick.

"Please, tell me you didn't tell a teacher," Juniper whispers.

Felix resets his expression to his normal, imperious mask. "I haven't told anyone."

Juniper relaxes visibly.

"Yet."

Her eyes shoot back up to his in alarm.

Felix smirks. He has a strategy.

"Juniper," he begins in his best prefect voice, making sure to keep the volume low so they cannot be overhead, "what you're doing is extremely dangerous. Even for a grown, experienced wizard. A thousand times more so for a third year student who has never even seen a dragon before. You've managed to survive thus far on nerve and luck, but it only takes one time. If you slip up once and it decides you're a threat... or even if it doesn't and you just aren't fast enough to dodge its tail or its claws or its flame, there are myriad ways for you to be killed or maimed. Your odds of never sustaining a serious injury are practically nothing, and you're out in the heart of the forest all alone. When something happens to you, as it's bound to, you'll have no way of getting help. And if you do somehow manage to get yourself rescued, you're still sure to be expelled. It's just too risky and I can't in good conscience let you keep going out there-

"But I-" Juniper tries to interject.

"-alone," Felix finishes over her.

Juniper stops speaking with her mouth still open. She snaps it shut and regards him shrewdly. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Felix intones, "that I will keep your secret as long as you allow me to go with you."

Juniper's face screws up in incredulity. "What, like every time?"

Felix raises an eyebrow and inclines his head slightly.

Juniper lets out an unbecoming chuffing noise, leans her body back away from him, and folds her arms across her chest.

"No offense, Rosier, but you weren't exactly a huge help last night. You're the one who almost copped it, I was doing fine."

Felix's face reddens in embarrassment in spite of himself and Juniper almost trips over her own tongue in an effort to undo the effect her words have had.

"I mean it's understandable!" Juniper leans forward again. "It was your first time. And it is pretty overwhelming. I just mean...well...it doesn't know you and that makes it more aggressive and untrusting. Which actually makes things more dangerous for me so...I think it's really better if I-"

"So, it just took to you right from the off, did it?" Felix sneers. "You tamed it with your magic song and you've been best friends ever since?"

"No, not at all, it took time and-"

"Exactly," he interjects, forgetting to keep his voice down. "It took time, but you managed to build a rapport with it and now it trusts you, to a degree. There's no reason I can't do the same."

Juniper makes a strange face, possibly an attempt to raise an eyebrow? But all she accomplishes is to widen her eyes and crinkle her forehead into lines. "You have that kind of time? With prefect duties and NEWTS coming up?"

No, he absolutely does not have the time, Felix's rational self reminds him.

"I will make time," he says. "How often do you visit it?"

"A few nights a week." Juniper's tone suggests a challenge. "Apparently they don't have to eat every day, they have a-

"A slow digestive system," Felix finishes for her.

And in spite of the verbal duel they're currently engaged in, neither can keep from grinning at this. A genuine, good-natured smile is a little unfamiliar on Felix's face, but he enjoys the feeling.

"Right," Juniper concedes. "The thing is I don't really have a set schedule. It's just every two or three days whenever I can get away."

"Well, then make it nights when I don't have prefect duties and there shouldn't be a problem."

Juniper gazes at him for a moment, a soft expression he can't identify on her face.

"Felix," she says in a voice just above a whisper, and the way she says his name sends a pleasant shiver through him. Felix isn't used to hearing his given name intoned so kindly and carefully, without accusation or anger or disappointment. "Do you know how many school rules you'll be breaking by doing this? What's going to happen if you get caught? You work so hard and... I'd really hate to be the reason you're expelled."

Felix has been on the receiving end of her strange compassion before, and it's just as disarming now as it was then**. He tries to smile again, reassuringly, but he isn't sure something of his more customary smirk doesn't find its way onto his lips as well.

"Then don't get us caught." Felix quips, and succeeds in restoring Juniper's grin.

-

* A/N: For those who joined the game after Jam City made the horrible decision to remove many of the questlines from the first two years, this is in reference to a side quest in which Felix, Rowan, and MC jinx a Gryffindor student into the courtyard fountain. When later confronted by Snape, MC has the choice to blame Felix or take the blame herself. For the purposes of this story, MC chose to take the blame and save Felix from getting into trouble.

**A/N: This is in reference to yet another removed quest line where Felix teaches MC how to duel. Upon defeating him, MC has the choice to tell everyone in Slytherin or keep it a secret to save face for Felix. For the purposes of this story, MC chose to keep quiet about beating him (earning a very sweet screenshot of smiling Felix).

Chapter 3 | Masterpost

[claudia1829things]

"FLASHMAN AT THE CHARGE" (1973) Book Review

"FLASHMAN AT THE CHARGE" (1973) Book Review Serving as the fourth entry in George MacDonald Fraser’s The Flashman Papers, this 1973 novel continued the story of Harry Flashman, a character previously from the 1857 novel, "Tom Brown’s Schooldays" and now a British Army officer in Fraser’s novels. This particular novel, "FLASHMAN AT THE CHARGE", recalled Flashman’s experiences during the Crimean War (1854-1856) and Imperial Russia’s expansion into Central Asia.

One could say that "FLASHMAN AT THE CHARGE" could almost serve as a prequel to Fraser’s 1975 novel about the Sepoy Rebellion, "FLASHMAN IN THE GREAT GAME". Almost. But it seemed quite obvious to me that the latter is a sequel to the 1973 novel. At least two supporting characters from this novel reappeared in "FLASHMAN IN THE GREAT GAME". And the theme of Imperial Russia’s attempts to wrestle control of India from Great Britain in the 1975 novel, began in this novel. The 1973 novel began with Harry Flashman enjoying the London social scene with his beautiful wife, Elspeth. With Great Britain on the brink of war against Russia on Turkey’s behalf, the cowardly Flashman believed that the only way to avoid combat was to have his Uncle Bindley secure him a post with the Board of Ordinance – the British Army’s armory. However, Flashman’s luck failed to hold (not surprisingly) and his meeting with the young German prince, William of Celle (a relation of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert) led him to become a staff galloper for Lord Raglan, the British Army’s Commander-in-Chief. The new position drew Harry against his will into the chaos of the Crimean War and in becoming a participant of one of history’s most infamous cavalry engagements – the Charge of the Light Brigade. This famous military action also led him to becoming a prisoner-of-war at the estate of a Cossack nobleman named Count Pencherjevsky At Count Pencherjevsky’s estate, Starkosk, Flashman has a reunion with a former Rugby schoolmate, Harry "Scud" East. After the two English prisoners learned of Russia’s plans to invade India and kick the British out, they decided to make their escape following a serf uprising at Starkosk. Unfortunately for Flashman, a sleigh accident led to his recapture by the Russians and a political officer named Count Nicholas Ignitieff. Flashy’s incarceration at Fort Raim led him to an acquaintance with two famous Muslim freedom fighters from the state of Kokodad, Yakub Beg and Issat Kutebar. Luck finally caught up with Flashman, when he and his two new acquaintances are rescued by Yakub Beg’s mistress, Ko Dali’s daughter, and a band of Kokodans. Following the rescue, Harry participated in one last action against the Russians against his will . . . so to speak. I must admit that "FLASHMAN AT THE CHARGE" turned out to be a well-structured and well-written novel. Unless I am mistaken, the novel was written into three parts – the London prelude, Flashman’s Crimean War experiences that included his time as a prisoner-of-war at the Starkosk estate, and finally his incarceration at Fort Raim and experiences with the Kokadans. Fraser began the novel on a strong note and finished it in a similar manner. My only sole complaint centered on Flashman’s journey to Starkosk and his time at the estate. In short, it seemed to me that the sequence threatened to bog down the pace. I suspect that Fraser’s in-depth look into Imperial Russian serfdom during this sequence is responsible. As much as I found it interesting, I also wondered if Fraser got caught up in his subject, which would seem ironic considering his failure to explore American slavery in the 1971 novel, "FLASH FOR FREEDOM!". As much as I had enjoyed Flashman’s time spent with Count Pencherjevsky and his family on the Starkosk estate, no one felt more relieved than me when he and "Scud" East finally escaped, thanks to a serf uprising. I had become rather weary of Flashman’s period as a prisoner-of-war. Despite some of my problems with the novel, I cannot deny that "FLASHMAN AT THE CHARGE" is a well-written novel. Fraser did an excellent job in recapturing London during the early and mid 1850s and Great Britain’s pro-war mood on the cusp of the Crimean War. He also expertly drew readers into the world of the British Army during the first months of the war. His description of the Army caps and hospitals at Alma just before the Battle of Balaclava literally had me cringing in my seat a bit: "So the siege was laid, the French and ourselves sitting down on the muddy, rain-sodden gullied plateau before Sevastopol, the dismalest place on earth, with no proper quarters but a few poor huts and tents, and everything to be carted up from Balaclava on the coast eight miles away. Soon the camp, and the road to it, was a stinking quagmire; everyone looked and felt filthy, the rations were poor, the work of preparing the siege was cruel hard (for the men, anyway), and all the bounce there had been in the army after Alma evaporated in the dank, feverish rain by day and the biting cold by night. Soon half of us were lousy, as some wags said, who’d holiday at Brighton if he could come to sunny Sevastopol instead?" Another memorable passage featured Flashman’s participation in the Light Brigade Charge. Fraser did a superb job in describing not only the Battle of Balaclava, but particularly the Light Brigade Charge. I found his description of the famous military charge filled with heady action, chaos and terror – especially from Flashman’s point-of-view: "I had only a moment to look back – my mare was galloping like a thing demented, as I steadied, there was Cardigan, waving his sabre and standing in his stirrups; the guns were only a hundred yards away, almost hiddenin a great billowing bank of smoke, a bank which kept glaring red as though some Lucifer were opening furnace doors deep inside it. There was no turning, no holding back, and even in that deafening thunder I could hear the sudden chorus of yells behind me as the torn remnant of the Light Brigade gathered itself for the final mad charge into the battery. I dug my heels, yelling nonsense and brandishing my sabre, shot into the smoke with one final rip from my bowels and a prayer that my gallant little mare wouldn’t career headlong into a gun-muzzle, staggered at the fearful concussion of a gun exploding within a yard of me – and then we were through, into the open space behind the guns, leaping the limbers and ammunition boxes with the Russians scattering to let us through, and Cardigan a bare two yards away, reining his beast back almost on its haunches." However, one of my favorite chapters in the novel featured Flashman and the Kokordans’ attempts to destroy the Russian gunboats filled with weapons to be used against the Kokordans and the invasion of India. Before this battle took place, Ko Dali’s daughter drugged the cowardly officer with hashish (bhang) in order to force him to overcome his fear for the operation. The scene of the cowardly Flashy acting like George Armstrong Custer on crack struck me as one of the funniest passages in the entire series: "God, what a chaos it was! I was galloping like a dervish at Kutebar’s heels, roaring 'Hark forrard! Ha-ha, you bloody foreigners, Flashy’s here!', careering through the narrow spaces between the sheds, with the muskets banging off to our left, startled sleepers crying out, and everyone yelling like be-damned. As we burst headlong onto the last stretch of open beach, and swerved past the landward end of the pier, some stout Russian was bawling and letting fly with a pistol; I left off singing 'Rule, Britannia' to take a shot at him, but missed, and there ahead someone was waving a torch and calling, and suddenly there were dark figures all around us, clutching at our bridles, almost pulling us from the saddles towards a big go-down on the north side of the pier." George MacDonald Fraser did take historical liberties with one particular character – the novel’s main villain, Count Nicholas Ignatieff. The author described the Russian character in the following manner: "And as our eyes met through the cigarette smoke I thought, hollo, this is another of those momentous encounters. You didn’t have to look at this chap twice to remember him forever. It was the eyes, as it so often is – I thought in that moment of Bismarck, and Charity Spring, and Akbar Khan; it had been the eyes with them, too. But this fellow’s were different from anything yet: one was blue, but the other had a divided iris, half-blue, half-brown, and the oddly fascinating effect of this was that you didn’t know where to look, but kept shifting from one to the other. For the rest, he had a gingerish, curling hair and square, masterful face that was no way impaired by a badly-broken nose. He looked tough, and immensely self-assured; it was in his glance, in the abrupt way he moved, in the slant of the long cigarette between his fingers, in the rakish tilt of his peaked cap, in the immaculate white tunic of the Imperial Guards. He was the kind who knew exactly what was what, where everything was, and precisely who was who – especially himself. He was probably a devil with women, admired by his superiors, hated by his rivals, and abjectly feared by his subordinates. One word summed him up: bastard." The above passage described Flashman’s opinion of Ignatieff during their first meeting on the road to Starkosk. They met for the second time, when Flashman and "Scud" East overheard Ignatieff, Czar Nicholas I and other Russian officials discuss plans to invade India during a secret meeting at Starkosk. And their third and final encounter happened after Flashman was recaptured, following his escape from Starkosk and attempt to reach the British lines on the Crimean peninsula. It was Ignatieff who tossed Flashman into the prison at Fort Raim. From what I have read, the real Ignatieff had never been quite the villain as portrayed in "FLASHMAN AT THE CHARGE". Fraser even admitted that he taken liberties with the character in order to provide the novel with a main villain. Mind you, I believe he could have done that a lot easier with a fictional character. Why he had decided to take a historical figure and change his character in order to make him an effective villain is beyond me. After reading "FLASHMAN AT THE CHARGE", it is easy to see why it remains very popular with many fans of Fraser’s novels. It is a well written comic-adventure tale filled with interesting characters – fictional and historical. The novel also featured two very unique passages, namely the infamous Charge of the Light Brigade and the usually cowardly Flashman behaving in a brave and aggressive man during a major battle. "FLASHMAN AT THE CHARGE" also happened to be one of those rare Flashman novels that began and ended on a strong note. Not only does it remain popular with many Flashman fans, I personally consider it to be one of Fraser’s better works.

[chuckling-chemist]

Happy Freedom Festival, Main Edition (2/2)

((<==back))

((Well this got......a bit long for myself. So yeah. Anyway, here’s the second half, that took longer to finish than I expected because Life Ensues. Also now it’s obvious I just really fucking wanted to make up an Independence Day festival because fuck you that’s why))

It took them longer than he’d ever like to admit to get ready. First off was the matter of Dontoc having to dig through his clothing to find something he deemed appropriate, and finding that pretty much none of his clothing would look appropriately “lowblood-esque”. In theory, he could certainly go with just a dress shirt, vest and slacks, but he felt naked outside without it, sweltering heat be damned. And with all his suits being tailor-made by Aisral, each one was temperature controlled so the only issue he would have to worry about is aesthetic.

The minute Pallia was ready, she even tried to expedite matters. Dontoc allowed her in his room immediately - already switched into appropriate pants, and any theoretical assistance to his dilemma outweighed any other possible consequences. She sat on his sleeping pad, giving constant reassurances that it would be fine and anyone who might generally say something will probably keep it minimal due to his caste. Highbloods were one thing. Seadwellers were another entirely.

Eventually, he ended up forgoing the vest and switching out the bowtie for a regular tie. He didn’t look much dressed down, but to him, he at least dropped down a few castes if it weren’t for the distinct southern-coastal, impossible to hide in any fashion, fins. Or the violet eyes. Certainly the violet accents on his jacket didn’t help matters either. But the attempt was made (however poorly it was in his increasingly aware mind), and the attempt took at least a solid five minutes of nothing but digging through a closet of neatly pressed suits, so he wasn’t going to get any more content than he currently was.

The coffee they ended up leaving in the kitchen. “Mayola drank it,” Pallia said.

“Are you sure? She did seem rather disinterested once you said it was only for us,” he said. He paused, then shook his head. “Then again...I suppose the inability to predict Mayola does make this a challenge to counter-argue.”

Pallia smirked. “Oh no, Mayola’s incredibly easy to predict. You’re just not used to her. And I can tell you she drank that coffee.” She hopped off his sleeping pad, her sandals making loud clacks on the tile floor. “Ready?”

He looked down at himself, fully dressed with a black suit and tie, then over at herself, in a thin-strapped white summer dress, hair still down around her shoulders. “Well, I still feel overdressed,” he admitted, “however I do not think we can rectify the situation more than we have.”

Pallia beamed. “Let’sssss go then!!”

In another timeline, she probably would have grabbed his hand and dragged him out of their hive. Instead, she rushed out his room and down the stairs, leaving him to hurriedly follow shortly behind. She didn’t slow down until she was outside, at which point she waited just outside the double glass doors of her hive, bouncing on her feet.

“Excited?” he asked dryly as she locked the doors behind him.

“Oh no, I’m just like this all the time,” she said. The two started on down the empty paved road out towards Sandyhorn, the only one from her position that actually led out of to the city. Were there passerby, they might have made a bit of an odd pairing - a tall, yet twig-like seadweller dressed to the nine and a tealblood a solid foot smaller than him in weather-appropriate clothing - but there were few hives down this road, and fewer trolls who ventured down the road.

(Really, if he had to think about it, the only ones he knew regularly traveled down here were the residents of the hive, Mayola, Volcor, Zanchi and Vodnik. Glacin and Valeba didn’t live close by, and Careen seemed to dislike the few times she came down to pick him up, going out of her way to complain each time. Dontoc had just gotten to the point he agreed to meet her somewhere else.)

Dontoc laughed. “You know, if I did not know you any better, that would have been a believable statement.”

“And the fact you know it’s not a believable statement means you’ve spent way too much time around me,” she said.

“Is that not what happens when you live with someone?”

“Point taken.”

He smiled. “I would not worry too much about such a thing.” He paused right as a warm breeze hit him square in the face. It was hot. Even with the automatic cooling system Aisral built inside his suit, the heat hung in the air like a weighted blanket - not moving, just omnipresent. “Instead we should be worrying about this heat. Are you sure you will be okay in it? I know the highblood immediate on-call transit system is still in Sandyhorn. You may not be a highblood, but I can call them.”

Pallia’s eyes went wide for a brief second before retreating, replaced instead with her vigorously shaking her head. “Are you hot?” she asked worriedly.

“Ah...no...but…”

“Then we’ll be fine. Sssorry, but I don’t even think thosse run tonight. You don’t have to worry about me. Done this walk hundreds of times in worse heat.” She gave him a soft, playful nudge. “Unless you’re worried about getting another sunburn?”

Dontoc let out an undignified snort. “Hardly. I just…” he sighed. “You are hardly wrong. I worry about you. Not because you are a tealblood, or a landdweller, or anything else. I just do.”

“Anxiety?”

“Something along those lines, yes.”

“Well.” She stopped briefly, putting her hand on his arm. “I’ve got like three other trolls doing that. You’ve got enough on your plate. So if that helps…”

“It does,” he said. It was true, somewhat. His general anxiety certainly did play a constant part in his worry of everyone around him- not just her specifically - and her explicitly giving a valid reason as to why he can stay calm quieted said anxiety. Anything outside of that was completely outside of her realm of help, but there was no need to bring that up.

“Good,” she said. With an awkward chuckle, she added, “I didn’t actually think it would.”

They walked for a while longer, all the way downtown, nearby the park. A long walk, certainly, but not a bad one by any means. In part helped by the company, that much he was certain, but nevertheless anything to make the walk better was welcome.

They didn’t even need to get downtown to begin seeing the festivities. The minute the paved road turned to the broken-down cobblestone of Sandyhorn’s exterior streets, he was greeted by streamers in reds, yellows and greens coupled with the faintest hint of unfamiliar loud music playing in the distance. Strings of lights wound around the pre-existing street lamps, lighting up the roads in all the lower colors of the hemospectrum. The official artwork and murals of Careen or the current Empress, Her Imperious Beguiler, remained relatively untouched. However, next to them were scrawled pictures of other trolls. A few of them he recognized from pictures in books, but most of them looked completely unfamiliar to him.

“How decorated,” he marveled. “It was not this fancy at the other festival.”

“We’re not even in the main portion,” she said. “Wait until you see that.”

She led him through the twisting alleyways of the city, deftly maneuvering paths he didn’t even know existed. Delicious aromas of breakfast hung in the air from all the trolls cooking, and those with small bird lusii chirped at the strangers coming through. The decorations were minimal here, but any troll that had a window pointing out to these areas had a flag, or strips of fabric, or anything hanging out of open windows in their blood color.

The alleys managed to pop themselves straight into downtown with little trouble at all. The smell of greasy breakfast foods sizzling on grills in brightly colored food trucks greeted them instantly. Pop-up tents and overhangs made rainbows on the streets for vendors to sell whatever they wanted. The music was louder now, and he could even make out words overtop the sound of fiddles and harmonicas that played on a makeshift stage. It brought out couples of all castes (though all landdwelling) to listen, some even going out of their way to dance however they knew how. In the distance, he could just make out a few easy-to-set-up games and rides, but their unfortunate association with carnivals might have dissuaded them from setting them up.

“Oh,” he breathed, careful to keep his voice loud enough so she could hear. “It’s…wow.”

“Glad you like it,” she said. “Because we need to get actual food before it gets any busier.” She started her way toward a food truck donned in dark red with vibrant green windows, Dontoc keeping pace up next to her.

“It...it is going to get busier?”

“Well yeah.” She looked at him and frowned. “Is that going to be a problem? I’ll be here the whole time, but I know Valeba won’t and --”

“Pallia, if it becomes a problem, you will be the first to know,” he said gently. He looked around. It made sense that it was going to only get busier. While there was a crowd, the crowd around them was still sporadic enough that aside from clumps of people around the vendors and music, large gaps between others indicated the crowd wasn’t too bad yet. “Why do you ask?”

“Well I...I kinda wanna stay for the fireworks and those aren’t going to be until later tonight,” she said. “If that’s okay.”

“It is more than okay. It sounds absolutely fantastic. Honestly dear, I am flattered you even thought to ask to go with me,” he said.

He could’ve sworn there was a light tint of teal on her cheeks, but she turned away before he could confirm or deny it in any fashion, putting all of her focus instead on ordering food. They settled on two cups of coffee and two giant plates of waffles covered in a couple scoops of vanilla ice cream dyed to look red and yellow. Breakfast in the absolute loosest sense of the word, but he didn’t care. He was hungry, and with the near sweltering temperature, ice cream looked more delicious than usual.

The two sat down at a picnic table further away from the majority of the crowd to eat, not that it took either of them especially long. The ice cream tasted perfect for the weather, even managing to make drinking hot coffee at this time of day seem like a smarter decision. That was ignoring just how well cooked the waffle itself was: crispy at the edges, but warm and impossibly soft in the middle. At some point he’d have to figure out what exactly made their food so much better than anything he’s ever had in Sindaria, but right now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to just savor the food.

The band playing music ended their song, followed by claps from all around. The singer, a bronzeblood with short horns that curled outwards and a buzzcut, stepped forward up towards a standing microphone.

“Good morning Sandyhorn!” he called out. “Are y’all having a good time?”

Most of the crowd in close proximity let out loud cheers. Some even threw in a few loud whistles or more animalistic-noises that vaguely matched some of the lusii in the area. The bronzeblood beamed, and Dontoc could clearly see the numerous gaps in his teeth.

“Yeah! Great! Then let’s get this event really going with some great local music!” He backed away from the microphone, over towards an electric guitar on a stand. The drummer in the back clicked off a beat and the band swung into a frenzy, immediately playing a high tempo song. The fiddle soared above the rest of the song, quickly becoming the focus of the whole song.

Then, finally, the other instruments quieted down so you could hear the singer, singing angrily about his matesprit being culled by drones and the havoc it’s caused him. He actually felt bad that the song was so uptempo and catchy he would want to dance to if he actually knew how to dance properly, which is to say, could do much at all aside from basic ballroom dancing he taught himself to look proper at Careen’s parties. The food on his plate kept him relatively grounded to the table too, of course.

Not that it mattered. Listeners and dancers crowded around the stage. Those who didn’t have partners bobbed up and down, fists in the air. Some trolls previously over at a vendor even went over to join in. He glanced over at Pallia, little more than scraps on the paper plate, who swayed slightly in her seat as she mouthed out the words.

“Know the song?” he asked.

She nodded vigorously. “They perform it every sweep since they came. It’s an old favorite.”

About midway through the song, the instruments dropped off, leaving nothing but the fiddle playing a vaguely familiar tune that Dontoc swore was some folk song he’s heard played on the streets before. Listeners clapped in time as the melody sped up and swelled. Dancers twirled around each other in a flurry of burgundy skirts. It drew him in, making him want to just abandon their spot and learn how to move like they did…to spin and twirl and dance like water on the shore...

With a final cymbal hit, everything abruptly ended. The song, the dancers, everything. Pallia looked between their now-empty plates and cups and gathered them up. Dontoc was about to insist on throwing everything away, but by the time he shook himself out of his stupor completely, she had already returned.

“So? Wanna check out the shops?”

“You do not even have to ask me, dear,” he said. “Although I cannot imagine it would not take very long to get through all of them. Sandyhorn is large but ah, well, it is not Sindaria.”

With a sharp laugh, Pallia rolled her eyes. “We’ll ssssee about that.”

He quickly learned how wrong he was. The popups went on for far longer than was initially visible, and they sold anything and everything sellable. Tealbloods in business suits handed out business cards rubber banded to water balls as they quietly tried to encourage him to find something requiring financial compensation. Rust and bronzebloods had showcases of homemade jewelry and clothing homespun from the natural fibers around them. Winemakers and beer brewers offered free samples of their product, some others even offering it for sale. Pallia tried a few, only going for the ones labeled from sweet fruits. Occasionally she’d offer a sample to him, asking if he wanted any for the hive. A few he was mildly interested in, but only a couple stood out. One, an expensive strawberry wine that when he watched it light up her eyes, he purchased it the minute she wasn’t paying attention. A present for the holiday, he told himself. Nothing more.

At the end of the wine popups, a strong arm abruptly pulled him aside, spinning him so he faced her. She was a yellowblood, shorter than him with horns that seemed to match the yellow diamond carefully embroidered into her floor length dress. Her filled in eyes indicated her age, and the lack of bifurcation indicated her usefulness to society. Long, poker straight hair pooled around her waist. It did nothing to hide the plastic, fake extra points on her ears to make her look like she stepped out of a Eastern Alternian Fantasy Animation.

“Hello,” she said smoothly. “I am she called the Great Silkfoot. And you look like you could do for some of my wines.”

Dontoc stared at her blankly. “I...I ah….”

She gave him a sly smile, eyes flitting between him and the crowd beyond them. “Oh please, there is no reason to act embarrassed around me, milord. I’m merely a pleasant peasant woman selling tonics to the mm….tension between you and your friend.” His fins twitched violently at the way she said tension. And friend. There was no friend the way she said it. His face was probably hot, but it was hard to feel when such a warm body was this close to himself.

“I...look, I...I assure you Ms., uh, Silkfoot…” Dontoc trailed off, swallowing harshly and steadying his breath before continuing. His hands shook quietly, but he did his best to fight off the rising panic attack at the sudden touching, “there is no tension between us. And we are friends. Not...well, friends or however you said it.”

“Hm. Then perhaps Silkfoot could offer a more personal fix for your tension?” She ran a hand up his arm and he shuddered involuntarily. “You really are just so tense, and I could most certainly fix just so very easily.”

“My...my tension would not be assisted by you,” he muttered darkly.

“Nonsense!” She said brightly. “I know what a good violetblood lord needs and what they need is --”

“Gadung!” Pallia’s voice rang through the air. In an instant, Gadung released Dontoc, scowling quite noticeably at Pallia. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Why, selling my product. What does it look like?” she asked. The honeyed tone from earlier was dead and replaced with a far sharper, more venomous one.

“It lookss like ssomething I will gladly report to your FLARP queen,” Pallia hissed. “I know through Mayola you don’t get to play the trapdoor spider outside the game.”

“Oh please. Silkfoot isn't playing her character,’ she scoffed, pushing her hair over her shoulder dramatically. Gadung’s hand went down to the bottle holding the covered bottle of wine, tracing the knuckles. Dontoc tensed up, but she didn't seem to notice. “I'm merely selling my high quality wine as a permanent fix to real Alternian issues.”

“You're fondling the matesprit of the Heiress,” she said flatly.

“I am--!” She stopped, side-eyeing him. “Wait...but you look far too straight-laced to impress my queen.”

“The heiresssss,” Pallia said. “The big one.”

The hand on his jerked away as if it were on fire. However, her smile returned. “Well. This adds quite the dynamic,” she said smoothly.

Pallia sighed. “The only thing it adds is a valid reason for you to let us go,” she said. “And if you keep this up, I will stop purchasing from your queen.”

Gadung scowled again, showing off the barest hint of jagged teeth. “Fine. Good evening, tealblood.” She winked at Dontoc. “And milord.”

Pallia rolled her eyes again as she briskly walked off. Dontoc hurried behind her.

“She seemed...interesting,” Dontoc said. “If a bit touchy for me.”

“She’s a trapdoor spider.”

Dontoc raised his eyebrows. “How informative. Soon you may be speaking in nothing but grunts.”

“They're trolls in Darkwood that get others plastered and pail them. Gadung...is notorious. I only put up with her because she's a good brewer.” Pallia groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “And for her to jump on you of all trolls! The obvious anxious one. It's just sleazy, really. I should've lied and told her I was your matesprit, but Careen’s holds weight.”

He swallowed harshly, throat dry, and shook his head.“Such would not have been necessary. You diffused the situation perfectly fine without,” he said, fins fluttering softly. “But I do thank you. I doubt I would have gotten out of there alone.”

“You're a friend and she's a self-important troll sleeping her way to the top,” she said. “Don't worry about it.”

They left it at that. Pallia was careful to stay close to him for the rest of their time together, even as trolls kept their distance. They avoided the games and rides section altogether, on Dontoc's request. Not that it took Pallia much convincing: she hardly seemed like she wanted to go that way anyway, and was more than happy to lead the two of them away. She promised it was almost time anyway for the best part anyway.

With a mischievous grin, she led him away from the largest part of the slowly-thinning crowd, all the way towards the far-end of the park, where the path stopped and the shrubbery turned wild. A few trolls - all lowbloods, he noticed, they were the only two past yellow - hung around, taking seats in the grass. Pallia did the same, finding a spot for them just past a few trees.

“Have you ever seen fireworks?” she asked curiously as she sat down on her knees.

Dontoc followed suit, shoulders just touching for the briefest second before he shuffled away. “I lived underwater or in isolation for so long, things exploding in the sky for amusement would not be a common commodity,” he said.

“Huh. I figured Careen liked the extravagance,” she said. “Guess not.”

“But I will get to see them now,” he said warmly. “Whenever they start.”

In the distance, he heard a loud boom, pulling the conversation away. Dontoc looked up to the sky just in time to see it light up in bright white sparkles, crackling as they fell to the ground. Smoke hung in its wake, a light gray against the star-filled sky.

“Was that…”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Pretty cool right?”

He nodded wordlessly, enraptured. Another one shot towards upwards, whistling as it skyrocketed upwards and bloomed like a flower, making a big circle of bright yellow outlining dark red. As soon as the first one faded, two more booms sent off vibrant circles of green and blue adjacent to the space where the first two fell.

Then another, this one making smoke swirls in the sky, exploded in a shower of hazy jade and fell in lines of jade. He glanced over at Pallia, face illuminated by the firework, and she smiled.

“Happy Freedom Festival,” she said. Then, so softly he could barely hear it, she muttered, “Thanks for coming.”

He smiled back, turning away at the sound of the next firework exploding to hopefully hide the creeping blush. It probably failed, but for once in his life, Dontoc didn't care. Not when the night went like this. “Happy Freedom Festival, dear.”  He didn’t speak again until the next firework exploded, letting his thank you for everything die in the noise. 

((Like what I write? Buy me a coffee!))

[xaz-fr]

I told myself I wasn’t gonna breed Astra until I had written this part of her lore. And, well, I finally finished it and god... I feel so gross. Fuck fuck fuck. I’m sorry you gotta go through this my sweet Astra.

On the plus side, Astra and Azazel produced some cute af TWIN GIRLS. Idk how they managed to get that since their range isn’t that small. I plan on writing lore for them as well but for now they’re just 150g. Once they have lore they’ll be more expensive.

Goldenrod/sunset/sunset 127.5k bought

Goldenrod/sunset/sunset 150g bought

If you wanna read how these two came about the story is under the cut. Make sure you read the warning

This story contains a non-graphic rape scene and a very creepy and abusive older man coming onto a woman who’s much younger than him. 

If any of that is bad feeling or triggering do not read this. This is not supposed to be romantic in any way, I’m just telling a story and part of my lore is dark and horrible like this around the warren dragons and doesn’t reflect the rest of my clan or lore, just a few dragons involved.

Also all my dragons are human shaped unless stated otherwise

Now here’s the story.

A Nightmare

Savathün had a sizable library in the warren for the space that the place was. It was mostly full of books that were incomprehensible to nearly everyone written in the languages of the Second Age but some were written in the draconic tongue for dragon use. Astra wasn’t looking for any book in particular. She was just looking for something interesting. Her tutelage was done for the day and Aten was busy so there was nothing to entertain her. She certainly didn’t want to interact with Slaughter or Abbadon either. So she’d gone looking for something to read.

Astra looked out of the corner of her eye behind her when she heard someone else come into the library. She didn’t look at them. You couldn’t acknowledge the things in the warren you saw out of the corner of your eye. It’d be the end of you. She went back to looking for something to read when it didn’t seem to be one of the louder and more aggressive things. She was aware of it as it glided across the room to stand behind her. It was tall and dark and she only looked at it from the corner of her eye.

“Hello, Astra,” Azazel said. Not a warren creature. Worse.

“Azazel, what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked, she didn’t look at him either.

“Oh, I was just around,” he said in his dark, charming, voice and gently brushed the knuckles of his hand across her back.

“Yes, unfortunately,” she said, not reacting to him.

“You know, Astra, it doesn’t have to be this way. I really hoped it wouldn’t be.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said and kept her eyes on the spines of the books in front of her.

“I know,” was all he said.

She turned and looked at him curiously, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” she asked him.

He leered down at her with his sun-like eyes. It was  really such a shame he was so handsome. Perfect curly black hair from which elegant antlers sprouted and forked several times and a well manicured mustache that he curled against his cheeks. “I know what you don’t want Savathün to know. Why there are no lights in your room.” He reached up to touch her face but she leaned back out of his reach. “No one else has to know. Even if it is rude to do such things under the roof of the witch caring for you like Savathün.”

“What do you want?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “You wouldn’t tell me this if you didn’t want something.”

“Oh, not much,” he said and she highly doubted that. “Just give to me what you give to him.”

She stared up at him. “You’re disgusting,” she said. She was also angry she’d been right. No-one who existed in the same circle as her mistress and her mate would be kind or simple.

“Heh, only because you’re a whore,” he said candidly. “Savathün told me you were… hmm, better than that. I was promised something undelivered so I make due I suppose.”

“I was never promised to anything you disgusting slime,” she hissed.

“Not that you knew. If you don’t want me to tell Savathün who you’ve been opening your legs to I’ll overlook this.”

“I just have to do it for you,” she growled.

“I think it’s too much of a problem for you since you have no morals or standards anyway,” he said and this time did manage to stroke her jaw with his thumb.

She slapped his hand away. The absolute gaul of him. To presume so much. “And if I don’t?” she snarled. “What if I decide to just pluck out your eyes and rip out your tongue instead?”

“She’ll know anyway. I gave her a package already that if things don’t… mmm, turn out as we plan that she’s to open it. It has the information within. I know she won’t be pleased with the contents. Such a betrayal against her won’t end well for either of you,” his lips curled to the side in a slight smirk. His brilliantly yellow eyes with the white pupil were so self satisfied and she hated him.

“You’re vile,” she hissed.

“Sticks and stones, my dear. Now what is your answer? Hmm? Either way I will get what I want with or without your consent.” She spit on him. That made him angry and his Light eyes narrowed and he shoved her against the bookshelf, his hand around her throat. She grabbed his arm. “Don’t be stupid, you fool of a girl,” he growled and she watched as something dark curled across his eyes, slipping into his irises like tendrils of Shade. “I don’t really wish to harm you but I will if you keep resisting and you will not enjoy it.”

“I never expected to do so with you,” she said. He had her by the throat but not so firmly she couldn’t speak. “I bet your dick is little too.”

He glowered at her. “Make the easy choice,” he said. “I won’t even bother you otherwise.”

“Your existence bothers me, Azazel,” she hissed.

His hand squeezed her throat and she cried out as he started to crush her wind pipe. He released her and she crumpled to a miserable heap at his feet. She rubbed her throat whimpering. “Are you going to make the easy choice now?” he asked her.

“Get thrown into the Fortress of Ends,” she coughed.

Azazel sighed. “So difficult,” he muttered.

“You want to have sex with me, asshole. I refuse,” she did her best to snarl. He throat still hurt.

He sighed again like Astra was inconveniencing him. “If that’s what you want them I’ll just… take what I need and tell Savathün too. Or maybe I’ll just take matters into my own claws, hmm?” He grabbed her chin unkindly and made her look up at him. She glared at him with all the heat she could muster. “I’m not afraid of what Oryx would do and I’m sure they’d bleed so well.”

“Don’t you touch him,” Astra growled.

“Than be a little more accommodating girl,” Azazel said, yellow eyes narrowed.

She glared up at him. She hated him. So much. She hadn’t liked him the moment she’d laid eye on him and now she hated him even more. But she couldn’t let Azazel hurt her beloved and she couldn’t let him tell Savathün either. She’d be furious. The betrayal was unforgivable. Astra knew that. She didn’t want to go through with what he wanted but it was that or the one she cared for would be in danger and she knew Azazel was dangerous. More dangerous than she anticipated.

Astra pushed his hand off of her and stood up. She reached behind and unclasped her dress. His perfectly manicured brows rose slowly as her dress fell off her shoulders and pooled down around her feet. “Fine, you disgusting worm,” she said standing nearly naked in front of him. “But do not fucking touch me,” she slapped his wandering hand away from her body. His smile was slimey and horrible and she couldn’t wait until she could figure out a way to rip his throat out. She remembered Aten had said that. That he didn’t like Azazel because he looked at her like she was nothing.

“No need to be so feisty, girl,” Azazel sneered and picked her up under the thighs, pressing her against the bookshelf. Astra just glared at him and kept up the hateful eye contact even as he defiled her. She didn’t cry or make a single noise. She knew that that would just make it better for him for her to resist or to beg him to stop. She just glared death at him and any time he tried to touch her with his hands or mouth she’d slap him. That just amused him but also didn’t deter him.

When the vile Imperial was finally done he gently set her down. She shoved him away from her. “There, are you satisfied now you horrible asshole?” she demanded.

“Mmmm, that remains to be seen,” he said, so pleasant and horrible like he hadn’t just raped her several times. He crowded her space again and she put her hands on his chest to push him away. “Pray I get what I want the first time so I don’t have to bother you the next time your body is in the mood for children.” Astra felt all the blood drain out of her face. What? No! She immediately wanted to scream at him and smash his handsome face into a bloody mess but she felt frozen. She stared at him, almost confused about what he’d just told her. He leaned over and ever so gently kissed her on the cheek before leaving her standing there, naked in Savathün’s library.

It didn’t take long for her to be found. “There you are, I’ve been- Astra, put on some clothes,” it was Aten.

She looked at her brother. “Aten,” she said softly.

“Yes? What’s the matter?” he asked even as he took off his cloak to wrap it around her to hide her nakedness.

She suddenly felt a violent rage well up inside of her. That disgusting man! That vile, putrid, horrible, smarmy, self entitled, shit for a face! Giving her body away was something she could almost get over. She’d do it to protect her beloved. But to know that Azazel had chosen this exact moment because she was finally of age for children? She seethed in fury. “I’m going to pull Azazel’s spine out through his mouth,” she hissed.

“What? What did he do?”

“He raped me,” she said.

She watched murder come into her brother’s eyes. “You can’t do that Astra, because I’m going to get to him first.”

“No,” she grabbed his arm before he could leave. “He has something over me,” she said. Aten just looked confused. “I let him.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“I told you. He has something over me. I need to make sure it won’t come to light before he dies.”

Aten nodded slowly. “You sure? I could just go do it now-

“Aten,” she snapped, “He made me a fool and a weakling and I want him to know I won when he realizes he’s dying.”

Aten frowned but nodded slowly. “You’re not hurt?”

“I’m too furious to be hurt,” she leaned down and pulled her dress up, so angry she just used magic to angrily snap the clasps on the back into place. “Do not go near him. Understand me? I want to dismantle him before killing him for what he’s done.”

“I don’t agree but I will do so,” he said his jaw tight.

“Good. Thank you,” her voice softened a little. “Now I’m going to go wash him out of me and pray it didn’t take.” She left before she could see the look on his face. She didn’t need to see it. She knew Aten well enough. She wasn’t surprised when she closed the door and she heard a great windstorm lash about the library, toppling books off shelves, upending the furniture, and making a big mess of the entire place. She took a deep, sad, breath and went to the bathing pool knowing that Aten’s momentary rage would also occupy him for a while as he picked up the mess he’d made until she could come back and make sure he didn’t just return to his birth shape and swallow Azazel whole.

[thefinalcinderella]

DIVE!! Book 4 Chapter 7-LINE

Have a nice, soft Sachiya chapter, in which I wonder if me not understanding half the things Youichi says is because of my limited Japanese skills or because he’s just a weird guy

Full list of translations here

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“DIVE!! to Sydney!! MDC”

His hand holding the cheering flag was getting damp due to sweat. It was a white flag that blurred the oil-based ink. It was the size of a lunch tray, with sketches of Tomoki, Youichi, Shibuki and Reiji drawn in the four corners that didn’t look like them at all. For a supporter, one absolutely needed to prepare a flag if nothing else, and so the day before Sachiya left for Osaka, he went to the hardware store to gather supplies for making his masterpiece.

Next to Sachiya, who never let go of the flag even once, from just a while ago Keisuke was watching the progress of the competition with a grave look. Keisuke during competitions was always like this, rarely ever opening his mouth. Making up for that, Kayoko and Ooshima were exchanging opinions on the progress up till now.

“When the sixth-round finishes, is Tomo still going to be in fourth place? Even I can place Yamada’s genius at just once glance, but I didn’t think Asama would hold out until this far.”

“The difficulties of his techniques are high and their rates of failure are low. That’s the strength of a veteran for you. But it’s alright, there isn’t much difference between the scores. Rather, Sakai-kun can keep up with that youthfulness of his. But what’s more…”

“What’s more is that Shibuki is being risky. So far he’s getting points at an incredible pace in his top form, but the degree of difficulty of his final dive is 1.6 at any rate. Even if he got perfect 10s from all the judges, that’ll only be 48 points. He has to widen his lead considerably by the ninth round. 600 points is too tough.”

“On the contrary, Sakai-kun’s last dive is the 4½ with a degree of difficulty of 3.5. If he got all perfect 10s, 105 points will roll into his lap just like that.”

“I’ve never seen all perfect 10s in my life. So, what about Youichi?”

“I can’t read him. As the degrees of difficulty of his second half are impressive, if his original condition returns, a huge turnaround won’t be just a dream for him. But, currently he’s struggling while still in pain. Even emerging into just ninth place with that body is amazing of him.”

Kayoko said, while imploring to Keisuke’s profile. After the intermission, when Kayoko reported to him about Youichi’s high fever after she returned to the stands, all he murmured was “is that so”, not even moving an eyebrow. Had he known? Or was he killing his emotions?

“Anyways, there are four more rounds to go.”

“Four more rounds…”

Kayoko and Ooshima murmured uneasily, then resumed concentrating on the competition.

It was the seventh round of the finals. The divers on the stage who were getting a little bit tired were literally unrolling the fierce battle that they devoted themselves wholeheartedly into.

For the MDC this round, only the top batter Reiji had already finished his performance. He had suddenly made some kind of breakthrough from the fourth round, and was doing unprecedented offensive performances in rapid succession, but regrettably in this round he overdid the backward somersaults that he was poor at as he made his entry, and cried at the harsh penalties in points. But even so Sachiya shouted “Rei-kun!” at Reiji as he got out of the water and continued waving his flag around.

Scores, rankings and other things like that should be left to the coaches. In this competition Sachiya decided to devote himself only to cheering. No matter who won, no matter who lost, he will wave his flag with all his strength, until the very end.

He didn’t really understand what a supporter is, but that was surely it.

Sachiya still didn’t know why he went to a diving club in the first place, when he was afraid of heights.

“Weaknesses should be overcome only during childhood,” his mother said imperiously, taking him for the first time to the Tokyo Tatsumi International Swimming Center in fourth grade. Although he was told what diving was, the moment he looked up at that towering diving tower, Sachiya felt like his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets.

He didn’t need to climb up the stairs or stand on the platform. In just one moment, at just one glance, Sachiya understood it instinctually. Just like how moles can’t fly in the sky, sheep can’t hunt, and snakes can’t scratch their backs, I can’t dive.

But, his heartless mother said,

“If diving’s no good, we’ll try skydiving next.”

With that one sentence, Sachiya quickly decided to join the MDC.

Although, when she tried thinking it about it more, his mother who was only energetic at the beginning for anything quickly gave up, telling Sachiya that “you can quit if you want to quit” when he didn’t try to go on the higher than three-meters platforms even after being in the club for two years. And just recently, she went by the saying of “weaknesses might not be something to overcome, but something that goes along well with you”.

But why had he continued to go to the MDC for four years until now?

That was one of the Three Great Mysteries of Sachiya’s thirteen years of life.

Fortunately, Keisuke was an understanding coach, never forcibly dragging the unwilling Sachiya up to the platform, pretending not to see him as though he was “it” in a game of tag. Nonetheless, there was no one who took a one-way, one-hour trip to the pool every day just to become “it”.

By discovering the hobby of watching the synchro moms, it was also a fact that he was able to remarkably fill up the practice time that had been unmanageable free time. But, at the Sakuragi High School’s pool which served as their practice venue in the summer, there were neither shape nor form of the synchro moms.

It was obvious that if he went to practice, he could meet his MDC clubmates, but they, who were older, were all busy with practice unlike Sachiya, so they couldn’t exactly keep him company. Even though he had a mountain of things he wanted to talk to and consult them about.

Yes, Sachiya was always anxious to talk to them, who were like his big brothers.

For example, the summer of fifth grade. There were cases of paranormal activity happening one after the other at Sachiya’s elementary school. For several days, any phenomenon that happened in school was taken as the deed of a ghost. If there were smudges floating on someone’s desk, they were the tears of a woman who had committed suicide a long time ago. If the water in the toilets didn’t flow, it was the grudge of a man who had drowned to die a long time ago. And finally, the hands of evil extended to Sachiya. During class, a bug that came in through the window had unfortunately landed on Sachiya’s hair whorl. Needless to say, that was the ghost of a man who had killed a bug a long time ago. “Sacchin got possessed by a ghost!” everyone screamed as they left their desks.

After school, Sachiya went to the Sakuragi High pool, on the verge of tears. Until now, though humans and animals and insects lived in harmony with each other, in just a few days everything was dominated by those that cannot be seen. The world suddenly transformed, becoming too complex for Sachiya. He wanted Tomoki to say, “Those are all just lies.” He wanted Reiji to say, “Bugs are just bugs.” But when he arrived there, they had already began practicing quietly. Definitely not an atmosphere for proposing a discussion on ghosts.

Reluctantly, Sachiya sat down at the poolside, watching everyone’s practice.

Tomoki dived from the seven-meter platform. Reiji dived. Ryou dived. Every time the water splashed up, it got illuminated by the setting sun. Youichi dived from the ten-meter platform. A higher splash got illuminated by the setting sun. A constant repetition. Before long the water brilliantly reflected the evening sun, and the dim light that held the scent of summer embraced everyone’s shadows as well. A usual snapshot of summer.

When Keisuke said, “That’ll be all for today,” even though he didn’t discuss with anyone, for some reason Sachiya felt like being silent. It’s alright. The stars are turning properly, and I’m not possessed by a ghost…

This was also the case in the winter of sixth grade, when Sachiya’s parents had a huge fight in front of him for the first time.

He had never, ever seen such a fierce quarrel between his parents, who were usually so close, before. The reason was that his father, who worked in an appliance shop in Akihabara, and his mother, who also worked in Akihabara as a personal computer instructor, both had stubborn disagreements on “the Akihabara outlook”.

“So then, are you saying that amateurs who don’t know anything about the products shouldn’t come to Akihabara?”

“I’m saying that if you come, then come as armed as you can. Akihabara is a battlefield. Whether you sell or buy, it’s a real, all or nothing battle. It’s not a child’s land where such a lack of self-reliance where you keep saying to make it cheaper without knowing the quality or model of a product can be accepted.”

“But, it’s also the consumption of those amateurs help support Akihabara. If they stop coming here, then Akihabara will only be occupied by electronics nuts.”

They both loved Akihabara from the bottom of their hearts, nothing more than that, but both his father and mother refused to give way, and when the next morning came, they turned their faces away.

What do I do. Are they going to divorce like this? It’s all Akihabara’s fault. Would Akihabara be occupied by nuts someday?

Finishing the day with uneasy feelings, Sachiya headed for the Tatsumi pool after class. His father, mother, little sister and himself had lived happily like usual until then, but maybe that was something that didn’t come easily and naturally. He wanted to ask about those feelings, but since he knew nobody was up for that right now, he quietly watched practice.

Tomoki dived from the ten-meter platform. Reiji dived. Ryou dived. And then Youichi. Every time, their limbs carved vivid, solid, perpendicular lines into the sky. Many, many times over.

When practice was over, Sachiya still came to feel like being silent. It’s alright. Mom and Dad aren’t going to divorce. Even Akihabara can’t steal away anyone.

This summer, he faced his biggest crisis. In July of 1999, the destruction of mankind was predicted. As the original evidence was that famous Nostradamus this tine, and the target comprised of all of humankind only, the sense of impending crisis encompassed all of Japan, not just limited to schools and homes. As expected, it was only this time that Sachiya wasn’t able to reach the conviction of “everything will be alright” even when he was watching everyone practice.

And so after practice, he waited for everyone at the locker room to try to ask them.

“Well, everyone, what do you think of Nostradamus?”

Tomoki said, “Who’s that, an American?”

Ryou said, “Stupid, he’s the great demon king who’s gonna destroy the human race.”

Reiji said, “Nostradamus and the great demon king are probably two different people.”

Youichi said, “Is the great demon king a person? It’s descending from the skies, right? If you think about it normally, you won’t be the first to get destroyed.”

Shibuki said, “Are those kinds of dramas popular in Tokyo?”

Sachiya etched it into his mind that he would never go to them for a consultation ever again. At the same time, he felt somewhat silly about his frightened self, and when he went home he became unafraid of neither Nostradamus nor the great demon king.

When he looked back in this way, they were truly his big brothers who were ignorant of things like common sense and fads of the world, and could not be relied upon on land. But once they were on the water, they were always cool, strong, shining, brimming with courage, and protecting Sachiya’s peace. Every time the world’s axis went off-kilter, it was restored by the perpendicular line of the ten-meter.

And so, one of his Three Great Mysteries might have actually been unravelled a long time ago.

As Asama Takashi’s petite back sank into the water, power filled Sachiya’s hand that was gripping the flag.

Of all of his MDC big brothers, Tomoki, Reiji and Shibuki were competing in today’s competition with reasonable results. Sachiya didn’t know anything about the quality of their performances, but he could make a rough guess based on the way the splashes rose, the scores the judges gave, and listening to Kayoko’s and Ooshima’s conversations. Tomoki and Shibuki were equally well matched. Reiji showed an unusual assertiveness. Only one person…

Youichi, the only one who was forced to struggle, reappeared on the head of the dragon.

The alias that Tomoki gave to the diving tower, concrete dragon. Youichi tamed this beast with his natural-born talent and hard work and reigned on its head like a king, but somehow today this dragon beneath his feet was in a stormy temper.

“Youichi-kun!”

Even while waving his flag around, Sachiya couldn’t help but feel anxious deep down.

The big brother among big brothers who was always ahead of everyone else. The boss of the other side of the MDC. How could that Youichi get a fever on the day of such an important competition…

Don’t panic. You’re not an elementary school student anymore, so don’t cry. Though he told that to himself, when he heard about that from Kayoko, Sachiya still wanted to cry.

What’s more, his next event was a super dive with a degree of difficulty of 3.0.

“Forward 3½ somersaults in pike position. It’s a high-risk dive for him currently.”

Kayoko’s expression as she looked at the entry table was also dark.

“Really? But pikes are his specialty.”

“But for this dive, he’s going to dive with an approach. There’s the problem. He isn’t very good at taking in the rhythm of an approach. In addition, today he lost his perception because of his high fever. If he was unsteady during his approach and messes up the rhythm…”

“It’ll be the end of the road.”

Listening to the conversation between Kayoko and Ooshima, Sachiya wanted to cry more and more.

For four years, Youichi protected Sachiya silently, and now he was in a desperate situation. Yet he couldn’t do anything about it. That was irritating, frustrating, shameful, and he felt the tears building at the back of his eyes.

Please let Youichi-kun finish his performance without any problems.

Sachiya’s noisy, uproarious heartbeat was noticeably beating fast. The whistle signalling the beginning of the performance sounded.

One. Two. Three.

Youchi always dived out with that timing, but today he was unusually cautious, and not moving his feet quickly. He stopped at the back of the platform, and his posture, which had always been striking, felt unsteady and delicate right now.

Four. Five. Six.

Youichi was looking down in concentration, his shoulders also delicately shaking. Beside Sachiya, Keisuke’s breath was caught in his throat, Ooshima cast his eyes down from being unable to watch, and Kayoko’s hands were clasped together as though she was praying.

Seven. Eight. Nine…

Right on “ten”, Youichi began to run.

At that moment, Sachiya stood up quickly and thrust the flag in his right hand up high to the ceiling.

The tiny grip of the flag carved a perpendicular line with all of its best effort into the air.

Please, please…

Keep the axis of this world straight.

Rankings as of the Seventh Round (Cumulative)

①     Yamada Atsuhiko (403.59 points)

②     Okitsu Shibuki (403.41 points)

③     Asama Takashi (381.72 points)

④     Ogawa Shinobu (373.68 points)

⑤     Sakai Tomoki (371.94 points)

⑥     Matsuno Kiyotaka (355.74 points)

⑦     Fujitani Youichi (342.99 points)

⑧     Tsuji Toshihiko (342.57 points)

⑨     Moriya Kazuteru (312.84 points)

⑩     Nakayama Masahiko (309.48 points)

⑪   Maruyama Reiji (307.02 points)

⑫   Kaburagi Shinji (294.63 points)