Vad kan du om världens floder!
Vad heter floden som skapar Niagarafallen?
Vilken flod har störst vattenvolym?
Vad är namnet på floden som mynnar ut “nära” Cheops-pyramiden?
“Spaghetti-flod” med delta. Vilken?
Rinner genom romerska rikets gamla huvudstad. Vad heter den?
Denna flod flyter bl.a. under Tower Bridge. Vilken flod är det?
Den här floden har skapat Grand Canyon. Vet du vilken det…
happy birthday to my beloved @childofthefullmoon, the one who rides steadfast with me aboard the small life rafts that are our rarepairs
here’s flynn/ioder, because we love an emperor and his commandant being royal gay disasters
Flynn’s first order of business upon returning to Zaphias is to report directly to the Emperor.
As Commandant, he has spent the last half-year commanding brigades in the still-developing regions of Hypionia, a task that was arduous and time-consuming but ultimately necessary for the empire’s expansion efforts. His troupes have made excellent progress—monsters attacks have been quelled, new settlements have been established, and they’ve even managed to establish a research base. The whole affair has kept Flynn away from the capital for far longer than he would have liked, but now, he returns with only good news to impart.
Light on his feet, Flynn weaves his way through the castle, offering brief salutes to every patrolling knight he passes in the hallways. Once he makes it to the emperor’s door, the corners of his lips curl upwards, and he knocks. “Your Highness?” he calls.
Flynn doesn’t even have the chance to identify himself before he’s recognized; a response comes immediately from inside---“It’s open, Commandant.”
Flynn’s chest flutters almost giddily as he promptly lets himself into the room, and fefore the door even slams shut behind him, he’s already rushing forward. His steps are quick and zealous as he approaches the figure seated at his desk, and in the privacy of these quarters, such titles as Your Highness are allowed to slip away.
“Hello Ioder,” Flynn gasps, and bends to press their lips together.
Ioder graciously accepts the kiss, and after pulling back, he smiles. “Greetings, Flynn. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” Flynn takes a step back towards proper decorum, placing his arm before his chest in salute. “I come bearing my final report from the Hypionia mission. Shall I relay the details to you now?”
Flynn’s teasing Ioder, just a little. It’s been six whole months since they’ve last seen each other, and clearly, neither of them is in the mood for protocol and reports at the moment. Ioder huffs and gives him a look, his bright green eyes eagerly traveling up and down Flynn’s entire form.
“Perhaps a bit later,” Ioder murmurs, his voice lowering to a quieter, huskier tone. “Right now, I would like for you to remove your armor.”
Flynn is all too happy to oblige, making quick work of unfastening his arm and shoulder guards. Each piece removed from his upper body is handed to Ioder, who carefully sets them down onto the floor, and when Flynn begins to fumble with his armored boots, Ioder begins clearing his desk of some paperwork he must have been in the middle of filling, the ink on the top pages still not yet dry. At last, Flynn wiggles his socked feet free and kicks his shin guards to the side, metal clanging against metal as he does.
Flynn winces sheepishly at the noise, but Ioder merely chuckles, grasping Flynn by the wrist as he shifts in his seat. He turns his chair away from the desk whilst tugging Flynn close, and Flynn, catching his drift, settles himself down in Ioder’s proffered lap.
“Does this please you, Your Highness?” Flynn murmurs, invoking one of their usual games, the one where they exaggeratedly play up the dynamic of their actual boss-subordinate relationship until it’s something far less appropriate for work.
Ioder hums and curls a hand around Flynn’s neck, reeling him in until their lips are close enough for their breaths to mingle. “Very much so,” he drawls, and kisses Flynn again, this time deep and slow.
Flynn melts happily against Ioder, relishing how passion washes over him in familiar, soothing waves that he hasn’t felt in so, so long. For six months, he has been without the solace that only Ioder could bring him, the relief that they would salvage with each other amidst arguments with the Council and the tedium of paperwork and all the mind-numbing politics. Their trysts are their secret, their guilty pleasure, and Flynn has spent the last half-year dying to partake.
Thankfully, their positions offer a distinct advantage in that regard, since it’s only sensible that the Emperor always have his trusted Commandant by his side. They are granted the privilege to visit each other’s rooms without any fear of suspicion, to cooperate on paperwork and presentations late into the night, and to do whatever else they want to each other during their breaks. Flynn can’t count how many times he’s found himself in the same position as now---sitting in Ioder’s lap, or perhaps spread out across his desk, or simply tossed onto the bed. Ioder’s room holds many good memories for Flynn and he is all too eager to create a new one right now: his fingers clenched in Ioder’s hair, his tongue teasing the seam of Ioder’s lips, his hips rocking back against Ioder’s---
“Hey, Ioder, about tomorrow’s guild negotiations---oh!”
Flynn whirls instantly towards the intruding voice, his mouth detaching from Ioder’s with a loud smack as his chest abruptly swells with both panic and mortification. It takes him a moment to realize what he’s seeing: Estellise stands in the door frame, eyes wide and jaw unhinged, and over her shoulder, Yuri is bent over in the hallway, one hand over his mouth as his other arm clutches his stomach, looking as if on the very verge of falling to the floor in laughter.
The panic quickly drains away---these two are friends who already know about Flynn and Ioder, so at least the Emperor and Commandant’s scandalous relationship isn’t going to be posted on the front page of every newspaper tomorrow. But the mortification doubles, and Flynn’s face suddenly feels like it’s on fire.
The sound of Ioder clearing his throat draws Flynn back to attention, and he watches, utterly flabbergasted, as Ioder, perfectly stone-faced, stares his cousin straight in the eye and asks, “What was that about the guild negotiations, Estellise?”
“O-oh, no! No no no, it’s not urgent, we can talk about it later!” By now, Estellise has traded in her initial shock for a mile-wide smile, her eyes sparkling with glee as she disappears back into the hall. Yuri, the bastard, manages to recover from his laughing fit and catches the door as she leaves, poking his head in with a positively shit-eating grin.
“Hey, maybe you two oughta lock the door next time, yeah?” The sound of the lock clicking into place indicates when Yuri does it for them, and before Flynn can even try to stammer out a half-baked retort that any decent person would have knocked before barging in, the door is slammed shut. Flynn swears he can hear Estellise’s squeals and Yuri’s laughter start up from somewhere down the hall outside, and he groans, pressing his hot face against Ioder’s collar.
“Are you okay, Flynn?” Ioder asks, his chest rumbling with the words, his tone laced with a hint of amusement.
Flynn sighs. Yuri’s never going to let him live this down, but other than that, he’ll be just fine.
“Yeah,” Flynn replies, and manages a small smile as he meets Ioder’s gaze. “Can we just...go back to what we were doing?”
Ioder grins, and then nuzzles his nose against Flynn’s cheek, flutters his lips over Flynn’s ear.
“Sure,” Ioder says, a throaty purr that sends excited jolts straight down Flynn’s spine. “We can definitely do that.”
