#BUT HAVE I EVER SEEN ONCE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE A LIST THAT CONSIDERS *HER* ONE OF THE MOST DIFFICULT BOSS BATTLES OF ALL TIME

[bogos-bint3d]

Common argument I see: "sans is one of the hardest video game boss fights created"

Another common argument I see: "undyne the undying is actually a much more difficult fight than sans"

BY THIS LOGIC, AN ARGUMENT I HAVE NEVER SEEN IN MY LIFE BUT CLEARLY MATCHES THESE POINTS I MAKE: "undyne the undying is actually one of the hardest video game boss fights created"

[venusdandy]

God's Rival [Part 2]

[Hazbin Hotel x GN!Reader] [Platonic]

Story Summary: The Demiurge is what they decided to call you. You aren't human, angel, or demon. You're something else entirely—an enigma in each realm. The only being who had ever shown you kindness was the fallen angel Lucifer since he freed you from Heaven's prison by offering Eve the apple from your tree. You promised him a fruitful favor in exchange, but he has not asked anything from you. Until now, that is.

Chapter Summary: In the back garden area of the Hazbin Hotel, you're summoned to Hell by Lucifer's and Charlie's combined magic. You finally meet the human souls—your spiritual children, who you sensed were saying your name last evening. You're delighted to be able to aid your dear friend Lucifer in protecting his family and home from Heaven.

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader (they/them pronouns). No use of (y/n). The reader is genderless and AroAce—platonic relationships with the characters only.

A/N: I wanted to let everyone know this story is now on AO3 (VenusDandy)! I also have a tag list here if you'd like to be added.

Part 1 Part 2 (here)

Your eyes are closed as you relax in your hammock and feel the sunlight warm your soul. You're humming a song you heard from your last visit to Earth that's been unable to leave your head. The birds in the trees above you had begun to sing along.

A sudden strong gust of wind nearly knocks you off, but you're quick to grasp the sides of the hammock to help balance. You quietly laugh to yourself as you peek an eye open. One of your creations, a pteranodon, landed a few feet away from you at the lake's edge to eat some fish.

For this reason, you keep the lake closest to your palace filled with life. The amount of happiness you receive when you see your creations eating gives your soul well-needed peace. You love seeing your children happy!

Speaking of your children, you feel that familiar vibration in your soul telling you a human has mentioned your name. A side effect after Eve ate the apple from your tree was that it forever connected your soul to humankind—your spiritual children.

Four deceased humans that have become demons, a fallen angel, and the Princess and King of Hell themselves are discussing you. You feel honored that they are considering asking for your help. You mainly use your energy and time to maintain the mortal realm's chaos and observe alive human souls. You pay less attention once they pass into the afterlife since it is not your domain.

Another chuckle escapes your lips. You have been wondering when Lucifer would cash in the favor you owe him. You were beginning to believe he had forgotten. Although you would prefer to continue staying out of Hell's and Heaven's pissing contest, if Lucifer requests for you to aid him, you have no objections to that. You respect the eldest Morningstar greatly after all he has done for you and humanity.

A content sigh leaves your lips as you go back to humming. You'll indeed be summoned to Hell by Lucifer soon, so you'll use your remaining time in the mortal realm to relax.

.

One last time, Lucifer scrambles around the immense sigil engraved in the dirt of the Hazbin Hotel's abandoned garden. He's pretty sure he's drawn your sigil correctly; he's only ever seen it once when you emerged from the apple tree in Eden, so it's entirely from memory.

"Okay," Lucifer semi-confidently says, "Okay, I think I got it."

Alastor has a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he hums, "Hmm, try walking around it ten more times to make sure."

Lucifer huffs with a glare. "Why are you even here? There's no reason for you to be here right now!"

"Who am I not to greet our guest who will aid us in war?" Alastor says with a twirl of his cane, "As the manager of this Hotel, that is my duty!"

Vaggie quickly stands in front of everyone with her hands on her hips. "Alright, let's go over this again!"

Vaggie points to Angel, "No flirting with the Demiurge!"-then to Husk-"No sarcastic remarks that can piss them off!"-then to Niffty, "No knives or sharp things that would threaten them!"-Then to Alastor "And no making deals with the Demiurge! Got it?"

Varying agreements ring out, some more irritated than others, but it satisfies Vaggie nonetheless.

Charlie is excited and slightly nervous as she stands next to her father. Lucifer had said he'd need her assistance for the summoning ritual since it requires powerful Celestial magic. Not just anyone can summon the Demiurge.

Lucifer lets out a breath of anxiety and rubs his bare hands together. "Ready, Charlie? Do you remember what we rehearsed?" He asks with a nervous smile.

Charlie nods firmly. "Ready!"

Lucifer and Charlie then shift into their more demonic forms to channel more of their magic before twirling their arms in graceful mannerisms. Lucifer begins chanting in the ancient Celestial language, which causes the sigil in the dirt to glow golden.

Vaggie anxiously clutches herself as her gaze never leaves Charlie's form. She knows her lover is powerful and capable of protecting herself, but Vaggie can't help but worry about her. A gentle, clawed hand rests on her shoulder, causing her to shift her gaze to her left, seeing Alastor grinning down at her. He doesn't say a word, but his eyes share a confident reassurance that strangely makes her feel a bit better.

The ground beneath them all began to rumble as if an Earthquake was happening. Niffty laughs as she uncontrollably falls to the ground, but Angel quickly swoops in and holds her tightly.

Once Lucifer and Charlie finish the ritual, they take a few careful steps back to join the others.

The sigil's golden glow brightens, then dims to nothing just as quickly. The ground beneath them stills once again. Everyone doesn't move as they wait for what will happen next. . .

Before Lucifer could question if he performed the ritual incorrectly, a large blaze of golden flames twists above the sigil, causing a few surprised gasps. Within the fire, a silhouette could be seen taking form.

Strong gusts of wind swirling around nearly blow the habitants of the Hazbin Hotel off their feet. They're quick to grasp onto each other for stability, other than Alastor, who uses his tendrils of shadow to ground himself.

Once the wind finally puts the fire out, it gradually falls into a light breeze. At the center of the sigil is a deity that stands at 120 meters. A golden-scaled serpent with the head of a mighty golden-brown lion. Their eyes glow brightly and shine into Hell's eerie red sky, and their sharp teeth are a perfect white—the Demiurge's true form.

You stare down at the beings who summoned you. Your eyes land on Lucifer, who stares up at you with a nervous smile. He looks more tired than how you remember him. He slowly waves, and you roar to greet him a bit too loudly since some of the beings below clutch their ears.

You then close your eyes as you shift into your humanoid form so you can speak eye-to-eye with everyone—the sounds of bones breaking and reshaping echo around everyone grossly.

Once you take your desired form, you eagerly reopen your eyes with a giant smile. You're very excited! "Lucifer Morningstar, how have you been, my dear friend?"

Although Lucifer was surprised you called him a friend, it eased his anxiety about you being here. He clears his throat awkwardly before greeting you properly with your name. "I've been uh- I've certainly been better, but I'm still kicking. Heh."

"Happiness is not a destination; it is a neverending journey." You remark with a hum, "I hope after we deal with Heaven's aggression toward Hell that it will ease your worries and bring happiness to you all."

The fact you already know why you've been summoned surprises everyone. You were in another realm far away from them, weren't you? How could you possibly know why Lucifer summoned you? Now Lucifer's anxiety peaks again. You're far too knowledgeable, and it makes him feel you're at least 100 steps ahead of him. It could be good or bad, depending on the context of your aspirations.

You shift your attention to the Princess and send her a kind smile. "Princess Charlie, it is a pleasure to meet you finally! I've heard wonderful things about you along the grapevine, child." You reach a hand out to greet her, noticing the younger fallen angel beside her tense up.

Charlie nervously smiles back as she shakes your hand. "Oh? It's lovely to meet you as well! I've heard things- good things about you from my dad."

Your eyes crinkle in amusement. You then glance amongst the four human souls staring at you intensely; you can sense their bubbling emotions. "I thought I heard my title being said last evening."

The look of regret is visible as Angel pales. The way you phrased it doesn't sound very good, as if you knew every word discussed about you last night—or rather ever. And Angel said some crude remarks about you! Husk is a bit nervous, too, since he straight-up said you have mommy issues. Your mommy issues got you locked away for millions of years because you lashed out at Heaven! And Husk does not want to be on the receiving end of your chaos! Niffty wouldn't mind your chaos, though.

"So, that means you're aware I'd like to ask that favor of you finally?" Lucifer asks uncertainly, "I'll admit I was hesitant to call upon you since I don't know how you feel about Heaven these days."

You hum in acknowledgment. "A fair judgment, although I have no qualms about protecting Hell from Heaven. You all fought in self-defense against the exorcists." You smile at each soul, "I shall do everything in my power to aid you all, although I must warn you, Heaven will not be pleased that the Demiurge will be fighting against them once again."

With her golden heart, Charlie grabs your hands with a much calmer smile. "We won't force you to do anything you aren't comfortable with! We all will understand if fighting against Heaven isn't safe for you."

Your old heart beats with bittersweet happiness at Charlie's words. You've heard about her kind-hearted personality, but witnessing it firsthand puts it in perspective. You see so much of her father in her.

You squeeze her hands reassuringly. "I appreciate your kindness greatly, child."-you gently release her hands-"I'm afraid that once it is known that I am aiding Hell, Heaven will send their most powerful Celestial beings, ones that only Lucifer and I have fought against."

Alastor quietly hums at that. He's a lot bit egotistical, but even he must admit that sounds rather dramatic. Your eyes then meet his, making his ears twitch back slightly. You're difficult to read. Much like him, your smile hasn't faltered, though yours is more genuine than his stitched grin.

"Alastor the Radio Demon," your amused voice rings out, "Did you want to say something, my child?"

Slight unease is bubbling inside Alastor, causing his claws to tap the top of his microphone cane. He doesn't like feeling this way. Masking his nerves, he tilts his head and keeps his smile strong. "The Demiurge has heard of me? Why, I'm quite honored my broadcasts have reached your ears!"

Your eyes squint with a lighthearted gleam. "I remember your radio broadcasts from when you were alive, too, my child."

The unexpected words cause Alastor's eyes to blow wide. Alive? How much does the Demiurge know about him, exactly? He doesn't like being this much in the unknown or having this much lack of control. . .

Your attention shifts to the other three human souls. "And here we have Anthony or Angel Dust, as you prefer. Then, the former Gambling Demon Husk. And Niffty, the demon who slaughtered the first man, Adam." You smile warmly, "It is a pleasure to meet you all, my children."

Niffty giggles at the memory, not bothered by you or your information on her or her friends. "I did do that!"

On the other hand, Angel is frowning because he has a clue that you don't know him because of his career here in Hell. That you know his darkest secrets and hidden emotions from when he was alive. Now he's starting to get why Lucifer was hesitant to summon you. . .

Husk's brows are furrowed. Clearly, from just witnessing your natural form that could rival Godzilla, you're not the average soul. You already know them all, even hinting that you know of their lives as humans. Was this basic knowledge the Demiurge already had, or did you do research beforehand? Husk isn't sure, but he plans to monitor you closely.

Charlie nervously clasps her hands in front of her. She's a bit unnerved you already know everyone, but then again, for a deity like you, that knowledge is probably easily accessible.

Vaggie, not about to let your creepy knowledge of them slide, asks with a threatening undertone, "How exactly do you already know why Lucifer and Charlie summoned you? And care to explain why you know a little too much about everyone?"

Lucifer snaps his worried eyes to Maggie Vaggie. He had the same questions, but he wasn't about to go and ask them! What if you get irritated?! What if you leave?!

You smile warmly at the young fallen angel, hoping to calm her protective soul, "You must be Vaggie; it is a pleasure to meet you, child."

Her eyes squint with suspicion, and if Charlie weren't holding onto her waist so tightly, she'd have waltzed on over to you. You dodged her question!

Lucifer loudly claps his hands, bringing everyone's attention back to him. With a nervous chuckle, he says, "I know how much being summoned to another realm can zap your energy, so how about we take a moment to rest inside and get better acquainted? What'd you say?"

You nod in agreement. "I would greatly appreciate that, friend."

You look back to Vaggie, "Then I will answer your questions, child." That brings some relief to Vaggie. At least you're willing to give answers. . .

With the others following close behind, Lucifer leads you into the Hazbin Hotel, asking if you are hungry or thirsty and listing too many options. He doesn't know how posh you are and is trying his best to please you. He's so afraid of you lashing out.

You understand why Lucifer is nervous about your presence; you would also be if you were in his position. Lucifer was one of the many angels from Heaven sent to investigate your existence. He witnessed your absolute most destructive moment when you lashed out at Heaven with all you had. You don't look back on the memory of your younger self fondly, but you do not regret your choices. You witnessed Heaven slaughter your children, and you couldn't save them back then.

You want Lucifer to know he is your friend, and you will never hurt him or his family. He never hurt you or your children; you remember him protecting them.

With a whisper of a touch on his shoulder, Lucifer interrupts himself and instead looks to you. You don't say a word, but the empathetic glow in your eyes calms every worry Lucifer has about you.

Lucifer can see in your eyes that you are genuinely here to help them, to help him and his family.

With a more comfortable smile resting on his lips, Lucifer tells you, "I'll make us all pancakes!"

If Heaven plans to slaughter your children here in Hell, well, you'll just have to slaughter the angels first.

.

Tag List: @paastaboi @gasoline-eater @rabioa @m00nd0v3

[windblume-wishes]

I feel like you all are in some need of Diasomnia family content so I shall happily deliver to you my dearest travelers~ So, here you shall have a sweet fic of Malleus and his brand new baby brother Silver.

𝕃𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕀 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖…

Malleus Draconia and Silver - I Loved You At Once

Warm late spring sunlight flooded through the open windows of the cozy woodland cottage Lilia and his new newborn son now shared together illuminating the entire living space in a warm yet soft spring glow. Lilia sat in his chair peering lovingly at his now sleeping baby boy as he slept soundly, he softly sang a lullaby his old, dear friend and princess once sung to her unborn son- reminding him of how he should probably inform Malleus of the baby as soon as possible, that is unless the chatty woodland fairies already blabbed to him about the surprise.

The old fae stood up smiling into the basket where the sweet infant boy dreamed the afternoon away. He had the sweetest face Lilia had ever seen, it was hard for him to hate the child even after knowing everything. Silver’s sweet face now sported a soft smile only a newborn could make- a smile so pure and beautiful that it could practically purify anyone with even a hint of darkness.

A knock then sounded at the door and the deep, smooth voice of Malleus called out, “Lilia? Are you home? Might I come in?”

“Yes, come on in, Malleus- but do keep it down, I just got him to sleep! Shh!”

‘Ah, this must be the newborn I heard about…’ Malleus thought to himself as he opened the cottage door and let himself in. “The woodland fairies told me you took in a child, a human one…”

Those blasted woodland fairies could not keep their mouths shut for the life of them, could they?

“Malleus, this is Silver! Isn’t he adorable~?” Lilia gushed like any new parent would over their infant. “Such a sweet little thing~!”

The draconic fae peered into the basket and stared at the child with confusion and a slight hint of what one might say is disgust. This was cute? What’s next, a sock eating troll would be considered a fashion model?

“It looks like a hairless ape- it’s so ugly one can almost feel sorry for it…” Malleus smirked, earning a slight slap on the arm from Lilia. “What? I was only speaking the truth, Lilia.”

“Be nice, you may grow to love him deeply, after all, I’ll be training him to be a knight for you. Oh! Yes! I must head off to go do a bit of shopping- turns out human babies cannot survive on flower nectar alone and require a thing called powdered milk- what an odd thing…” Lilia quickly gathered his list and money pouch before walking to the door with a smirk. “You will be on babysitting duty~! If he gets fussy, rock him and sing him a lullaby~! Bye~!”

“But Lilia! If I hold something this fragile I- he’s gone…” Malleus sighed but immediately turned to see the newborn stir in his once peaceful sleep and let out his wails of distress. “Oh dear… Silver, that is your name, right? Let’s not cry now- ah- I don’t know any lullabies- wait… maybe this would…?”

Malleus carefully picked up the wailing infant and held him as gently as possible, placing a sturdy hand beneath his bottom and one on his tiny back as he began to sway softly and hum a tune he did not know the origin from. Slowly but surely Silver’s cries softened and his beautiful aurora eyes gazed sleepily up at the draconic fae. Malleus made brief eye contact with the tiny human in his arms and offered him a smile before continuing his humming, sure enough the baby drifted back off to a deep sleep.

He sighed, finally the baby was asleep again- how could one simply awaken to wail their tiny lungs out and then fall asleep as if nothing had happened? It truly confused Malleus, but nevertheless he continued to hold the baby and stare at him, taking in every little detail. Slowly he laid the baby back into his basket bed and continued to stare at him- he noticed a small white spot on Silver’s pointer finger resembling what one May consider a scar, he brushed the idea off as it was likely a birthmark. Malleus brushed a gentle finger across his pudgy cheeks, earning an adorable squeak from the baby boy as he stretched a small arm up, eventually latching his small hand onto Malleus’s finger.

Malleus froze, the human infant held his finger as tightly as he could, smiling in his sleep. Curious creatures humans were, despite his hatred towards humans he was slowly softening his feelings of such hatred as the baby held his finger- one so small not fearing a creature such as himself, a creature of the night and a fae of darkness. Surely this human would grow to fear him and even Lilia, right?

No, Malleus shook his head, he likely would not grow to fear the darkness as such creatures were the majority in the Briar Valley. Though, it was obvious from looking at the baby that he would indeed grow pure of heart and full of light, those few seconds of staring into those beautiful eyes of his were enough for Malleus to see that much.

Those eyes, those aurora eyes… Why were they so familiar to him? Malleus shook his head, it was likely just a matter of his imagination, nothing more.

“So small and yet so fearless to have reached out and have taken the hand of darkness itself… have you not an ounce of fear, Child of Man?” He asked softly, knowing full well that an answer was completely out of the question from the baby. “Silver, I suppose it’s a better time than any to bestow a gift upon you, I hereby bless you with the gift of kindness, may you always find the good in everyone in this era of peace…”

Suddenly Silver’s aurora eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Malleus giggling happily, Malleus could not help but chuckle a bit himself, tracing Silver’s face once more with his finger.

“I see you have awakened to laugh before your future king, brave of you, beasty, let’s see if you are brave enough to handle a dragon’s roar and a bit of fire, hm?”

Malleus let out a draconic growl and a small puff of green fire before the baby, trying to be as intimidating as possible but he was only met with more giggles and smiles- how strange, humans would normally fear the roar of a dragon and the sight of fire, this little one seemed to take it as a form of entertainment.

“Beastie, I do believe I hate you for this… have you not an ounce of fear? I- more giggles, really now? Not even my fangs frighten you?”

Alas there was no fear from the baby, he just continued to laugh at his prince and reach up to him happily as if he could sense that Malleus was not one to fear but to love. Malleus smirked and gently wiggled a finger across Silver’s bare baby belly causing the most adorable giggles to erupt from him.

“You might just be the first human to not fear me, beasty… for that I must applaud you, being brave enough to be so carefree before me fufufufu~”

The door to the cottage slowly opened and there was Lilia with his baby haul smirking at the sight of Malleus being so gentle and loving towards the baby he just an hour ago gave a look of disgust towards. Malleus froze- immediately composing himself and pretending that nothing happened, not daring to look Lilia in the eye as he huffed a little in embarrassment.

“What’s that, Malleus? Can’t face me because you are embarrassed to admit you find your new baby brother adorable~? Hmmm~?”

“Lilia, that is not at all what- hmph- I suppose he is not half bad as I believed… I suppose I can stay a bit longer to um, assist in caring for this Child of Man…”

Lilia only laughed as he picked up Silver, gently swaying him in his arms and placing some kisses atop his soft, fluffy hair all while his baby nuzzled closer to his warmth, cooing softly. “Did you miss me? Yes you did! You are truly the cutest little thing, turning Malleus here into a softie, good boy!”

“Lilia, that’s not-” Malleus sighed and hid a smile, “I suppose arguing is pointless.”

“Good! Now let’s get him fed and in the bath! Now where is that coffee mug for me to feed him his milk….”

“Oh dear…” Sevens above help this baby boy survive Lilia’s parenting tactics…

[kaeyahiya]

"Unrequited Enemies" (NSFW)

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Pairing: Ayato x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW/Explicit content, use of y/n if that bothers you,use of feminine parts, enemies to lovers (kinda), swearing, and mentions of marking, a little bit of angst, a little bit of smut

Disclaimer: This is intended for adult viewing only, I have plenty of SFW content on my master list so please check that out instead. I am strongly discouraging and actively not condoning the consummation of this content for anyone who is a minor.

Word count: 5687 OH MY GOD???

Authors note: This is LONG the longest thing I think I've written to date. This counts as like a full fic, should be like a multi chapter type beat. It's a long read but dare I say this might be my best work yet. Anway, I haven't written anything for Ayato bc he was a faceless ncp before I went on my hiatus.... I am also in love with man and couldn't stand the thought of this. Hence I'm writing a self serving fic bc I'm incredibly selfish rn and need some of this man in my life. Also I enjoy a good enemies to lovers troupe sue me!! ALSO ALSO THIS IS GENDERED HAHAHAHA finally if you see my master list it's all been GN so ha I did it. Anyway enjoy me being selfish 🧍🏻‍♂️(edit) Future self here... This took me almost a month to write, this turned into a novel and I apologize....

This will also be crossposted on my A03 probably bc of the girth of this beast. You can read it: Here if you prefer that interface better

-------- ••• ------- ✧ °✧° ✧ -------- ••• -------

Working under the Kamisato's was a blessing. Truly it was. You considered yourself exceptional in hospitality and an ace seamstress. That's how the Kamisato clan sought you out.

Lady Ayaka was kind, the easy one to put it bluntly. Her tasks were normal simply as asking you to clean her linens or making small repairs on her formal wears. (Which Thoma would normally jump in to help, cleaning and sewing was also his forte). Genuinely, she was the nicest noble person you've ever seen, still managing to keep an air of excellence and gracefulness to her despite her overly kind nature. 

Working there is what kept you and your family fed and you were able to have a safe haven during the Vision Hunt Degree when being a vision holder yourself was hard to avoid.

However, working under the Kamisato's wasn't easy work by any means.

The head of the household was where the issue lied when it came to your work. Kamisato Ayato, you swear had it out for you since you arrived to work for them. One day he'd have you doing mundane tasks like taking inventory of the spices in the kitchen, and the next it would be making him tea over and over until it was the exact temperature he liked.

Not to mention all the constant repairs on his clothes you'd have to do, whether it be taking care of personal matters or training with his sister he'd always come back with piles of clothes in need of huge repairs.

You probably would have punched the pretty smirk off of "Lord Ayato's" face if it wasn't for poor Thoma keeping you afloat. You feel bad but while he cooks, you normally lament your frustrations to him. He'll occasionally offer his support or advice, since after all he's your senior and also a fellow outsider of Inazuma.

"Miss, your presence is requested in Lord Ayato's office." the guard locks eyes with you. You want to groan in agony, you were hungry and tired but still you mustered a smile. " I'll head over right now, thank you."  You say with a small bow. Once the guard exits you you finally let out a long groan looking to Thoma for support. "Can't you go instead, at least you can put up with his nonsense." You sigh exasperated.

After one particularly frustrating day of repairing both Lord Ayato's and Lady Ayaka's training wear entirely and aiding another with mending their Shinai Practice Swords (The bamboo ones, commonly used in kendo??), which were almost beyond repair. You find yourself once again in the kitchen with Thoma going on and on about the day before a dreaded guards men enter.

Thoma chuckles. "I believe a 'Miss' was summoned, I'd be scolded if I showed up, besides I'm cooking. Unless you wanna deliver food to the entire staff and the Lord and Lady." You wrap him lightly on the back of his shoulder. " Fine, but if I wind up dead it's your fault." You joke. You excuse yourself and exit the kitchen; then head for your doom, Lord Kamisato's office.

-

You stand outside his office, the dimly lit Shoji (those paper sliding door things?) showing the silhouette of menace himself just waiting for you.  "(Y/N) here My Lord." You grit your teeth. "You may enter." You can almost hear the sadistic smile in his voice. Sliding open the door you're immediately confused on why you are here.

Ayato looked right as rain, clean and on top of that his office looked organized and practically sparkling (you'll have to thank Thoma for that later), boba tea full, and a small before dinner snack fully eaten. What more could he need at this hour. "Ah yes, Miss (Y/N)" his eyes lock with yours. "I've seemed to have spilled ink on my clothes. I need them cleaned immediately before dinner is finished." Though the room was dimly lit, you could clearly see there was no ink anywhere on Ayato's clothing.

"My lord I don't-" before you can even finish getting the word's out, Ayato takes the ink on his desk and proceeds to dump its contents all over his clothing. All the while that signature sadistic smile plastered on his face. You face contorts, you try to conceal the seething hot rage from pouring out of your mouth. (Un)Luckily Ayato speaks first. "I'm sorry you were going to say something? Go ahead, I apologize for my clumsiness."

Your mouth opens but you quickly close it. You're dumbfounded. His informal attire is mostly white, similar to his training attire, getting ink of that amount out in such a short amount of time would be nearly impossible. As you continue to stand there in silence you can see Ayato absolutely blossom with happiness.

A few more seconds pass until you collect yourself enough to speak calmly. "I'll fetch you some other clothing to change into while I tend to your..." Your eyes narrow at him. " Accident. " Words laced with venom at the end. He nods, smiling. " Go ahead, I'll be right here. Do be quick though, I hear ink is a pain to get out the longer you leave it. " He smirks.

You bow rigidly before bolting out the door to his quarters to grab him some fresh clothing.  Returning to the lion's den, you announce yourself once more. "You may enter," Ayato calls out again. Sliding open the door he promptly stands up this time.

You don't say a word but hold out the clean clothes to him. "My my, that was fast." He smiles. You don't answer but begin to turn to exit so he can change in private.  "No need to be so shy. You're practically one of my retainers at this point. "

You quickly turn around deciding to face the door instead of him, face red with embarrassment this time. You hear the rustling of the rest of his clothes. After a few awkward quiet moments with your thoughts filled with annoyance and somehow Lord Ayato's bare chest and perfect stupid abs, he finally speaks again. "I'm dressed." You pivot to see him again, back in pristine condition, however not bothering to pick up the ink stained clothes off the ground.

Retainer??? Since when? Where's your pay raise? That's all that runs through your mind as you stare at him dumbfounded. You don't realize until you snap out of your train of thought Ayato has already started stripping, his bare chest on full display. "Miss (Y/N) I don't mind if you watch, but watching me so intensely is unnecessary." You didn't think that smirk could get any bigger but it does.

You let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding in and kneel to grab the stained clothes scattered around his feet. You go to grab a sleeve and the bastard has his foot still on the article of clothing. Giving it a little tug as a hint to move, Ayato simply looks down at you with a smile. "Oh my apologies, didn't realize I was standing on it and hindering your precious time to get those pesky stains out." He steps out of your way and plants himself back to his desk. Asshole is all that runs through your mind as you gather the clothes.

Once again you quickly excuse yourself and rush to the medical bay to grab some balls of cotton and rubbing alcohol. Storming back into the kitchen you decide you need to get this frustration out and combat this stain at the same time.

-

You definitely startle Thoma as you slide open the Shoji with little to no care of its fragility. "Listen I'm sorry, Lord Ayato is fucking awful."  You say holding up the stained clothing to accentuate your point.

You recount your encounter with the Lord of the house to Thoma all the while desperately scrubbing the ink out with the rubbing alcohol. "He's a sadist Thoma, he hates me I'm sure of it. Why on earth would he do this." Thoma turns to the area of the table you're vigorously scrubbing at ,now almost finished with dinner at this point, offers you a pot of cold water and soap to help you finish cleaning the stain. "That's just Lord Ayato, and hey maybe it was a genuine mistake."  He shrugs. "Thoma, I saw him pick it up and dump it on himself."

You move over a bit to let Thoma work his laundry magic. Taking the garment from you, which was now almost its original color, he washes it in the aforementioned cold soapy water. After some more scrubbing he pulls it out. Looking as radiant as it did on Ayato before he went and soiled it.  "Thoma I'm sorry for roping you into this... I appreciate you." He smiles nudging you softly. " Stop that, you'd do the same for me if I needed that level of help. " You're glad Thoma is always here to save your ass. 

"I may have done the best I can but it won't dry before dinner, since I'm almost done with it." You grab your Anemo Vision and wave it in front of him and he lets out a 'Oh yeah...' before he smiles radiantly. "You got this then, dry it quick and as soon as you're done I'll serve dinner. Hopefully that'll buy you a bit of time. " You bow to Thoma, thanking him profusely. You exit the kitchen before running to the courtyard to swiftly dry the Lord's clothes with a little help from your Vision.

-

After making quick work of drying the clothes. (Thank you Anemo Archon). You inspect the clothes one last time and decide they are pristine enough for him. Carefully folding them, you proceed to slide down the hall to Ayato's office once more. 

For the final time of the night you announce yourself. "Miss (Y/n) back so soon?" he says as you enter. His eyes narrow in on the clothes in your hands. "I'm more than pleased with your speediness. However, folding them will definitely crease them." You wordlessly unfold the clothes, gesturing to the creaseless stainless garments. "I see... Very well then, I will change after dinner."  

His eyes light up again and you regret opening your stupid mouth. "Ah yes, Thoma should be along with my dinner soon. My arms are awfully tired from writing documents all evening..." There it is again that fucking sadistic grin. "Stay here and feed me will you?" You can't stop the words from spilling out of your mouth. "What? Why?" Clapping a hand over your mouth. He didn't like that, you can tell as you watch sadism on his face fade to confusion. "Because you serve under me and I'm telling you to do so." 

Taking the clothes from your hands, Ayato purses his lips briefly as your fingers touch during the exchange.  You grimace at him, typical of him to be disgusted by touching you even for a millisecond. You quickly rearrange your face before asking the dreaded question. "Can I help you with anything else my Lord?"

Right. You forgot. You're supposed to be like Thoma, a loyal dog who does what it's told. Maybe that's what you're supposed to do but this was an outlandish request. However, knowing the wrath of Kamisato Ayato, you flop yourself in the corner in defeat, not bothering to put up a fight. You press your knees up to your chest, glancing at Ayato's, once again, happy smirk. He too proceeds to sit back down, at his desk.

A heavy silence fills the room as Ayato resumes his work. You want to yell at him, kick and scream, but overall you just wanted to cry. You're so embarrassed for what's to come and your mind is reeling. The tears brimming your eyes burn as you try to continue putting on a strong front. You refuse to let this asshole see you cry.

Thoma must be taking his time because amongst the scribbling mixed in with silence you have a lot of time to think. You evaluate your position. You signed up for this, but did you really? A maid sure, but dealing with a sadistic brat? No, that wasn't in the job description. Or maybe that was the plan all along, maybe it just happened along the way? You weren't sure at this point and you felt bitter and defeated.

"Lord Ayato?" Your voice comes out horse. "Hmm?" He questions. "Why do you trouble me with the most torturous and utterly embarrassing tasks?" You stare him down. He looks shocked you dare question his authority. He opens his mouth to answer? maybe yell at you? But as if the Archons themselves are taunting you, Thoma announces himself. "My Lord you dinner is ready, may I enter?" Ayato fixes his gaze on you for a second longer than needed before responding to Thoma. "Thoma. Yes, you may enter." He answers 

Thoma comes in hands full of all of the dishes Ayato requested tonight. He almost doesn't see you in the corner for a second but being the loyal retainer he is, the actual retainer of Ayato, he says nothing but shoots you a sympathetic glance. "Thoma, please let Miss (Y/n) help you with the rest of your food deliveries. I wish not to be disturbed the rest of the night." Ayato says using a voice he normally only uses when talking with other officials. It's cold, a lot colder than usual. The blood drains from your face and a knot forms in your stomach, you fucked up big time.  

-

Three days. It was three days of terrifying tranquility, free of summoning from Lord Ayato.

Lady Ayaka assured you, as well as your job, were fine. The looming anxiety however had you on edge, you couldn't sleep fearing you'd be assassinated in the middle of the night. After all Kamisato Ayato hated being questioned, the only thing you were sure he hated more was you. Death would be the only solution right? 

You were in the courtyard, it was evening and everyone was eating dinner. Thoma approached you gently tapping your shoulder. "Dinner is ready for you in the maid's quarters... But uh, Lord Ayato wishes to see you in his quarters before dinner." He says sheepishly. You groan looking to Thoma “If you don't see me tomorrow, assume the worst." You joke but deep down felt your stomach drop. It had been three days of not seeing him, who knows what kind of punishment you'd receive. 

Thoma gave you a reassuring smile as you bid him farewell and headed from the courtyard to the personal quarters of Kamisato Ayato. It's not like you haven't been there before, but something still felt off about addressing your punishment not in his office but your room. 

So there you were, standing in front of the looming door to the man who was about to decide your fate. You swallow hard before addressing your arrival. "My Lord, (Y/n) here. Thoma said you requested my presence..." Your voice came out a lot shakier than you'd like to admit. Frankly you were terrified. There was, what felt like, an eternity of silence before he finally responded. "Come in."

Your hands waver as you pull the Shoji door open. It was almost pitch black inside Ayato's room. He was sitting under a Kotatsu with his dinner finished. His eyes immediately fixed on you as you entered. "Miss (Y/n) please sit. There's something I'd like to discuss with you." Fuck. Your family will be so upset if you lose this job, what will you do for work, where will you live? Sure you hate Ayato but you for the most part enjoy your job and- No no no you can't spiral right now. 

You suck in a composed breath and take a seat opposite him under the Kotatsu. "What is it, my Lord?" You ask meekly. He closes his eyes, sighing. "I.. You see.." He's uncharacteristically fidgety. "My sister has brought it to my attention that I've been causing you much strife lately." You want to laugh, lately he says, it's been since day one but okay sure. You grit your teeth. "As you said before, I serve under you. It's my duty, I suppose." You respond promptly. As much as it hurts your pride to admit you needed this job. You belong here and you won't go down without a fight. "I see." He says, sighing again. 

" (Y/n)... You loathe me do you not?" He locks eyes with you, as if boring directly into your soul. " My Lord, of course not. I'm grateful to serve the Kamisatos." He shakes his head. " Miss (Y/n), from the moment you arrived here you've seemed to take a disliking to me. I'm just trying to understand what started it. Please be cooperative." 

Huh? You? You're the problem in this situation? You know what fuck your job. "Kamisato Ayato, I do believe from the moment I arrived here you've made me do the most outlandish things and have, frankly, acted like a brat. If anyone hated anyone first it'd be you." You bang your fist on the table of the Kotatsu. "I'm a mere maid trying to make a living, not a babysitter or a toy for a spoiled noble's amusement." 

He has the audacity to laugh. "I'm sorry I seem to be missing the joke here my Lord. Please share so I too can laugh at the very serious call concerns I just raised." You glare at him. He smiles trying to suppress his laughter. "(Y/n) no one has ever talked to me like that before..." You pause. You've never seen Ayato look so pleased in your presence before. 

"Shamefully I'll admit, I enjoyed hearing your true feelings about me." He fidgets under the Kotatsu again. "For the record, I never hated you. I enjoy teasing you, and I'll admit I take things to an extreme. For that I apologize for the suffering I put you through." You're stunned at his apology. The head of the Kamisato clan apologized to you? " My Lord I..." Your words catch in your throat and all the anxiety built over the past three days spills out of your eyes. The one thing you swore you'd never do happens, you're crying in front of Ayato. 

Instinctively Ayato rushes to your side of the Kotatsu kneeling next to you handing you his handkerchief. You take it and turn away from him as you try to repress your sobs. "(Y/n) I'm so sorry, I didn't realize... I..." He turns you to face him. His face is almost unrecognizable, maybe from the blurry vision of your tears, but his face laced with pure concern and gentleness. "I apologize for being so bold to ask but my I... Hug... You?" H u h?  Your world feels like it's been turned upside-down. Ayato is being nice to you, and the craziest part is you kind of enjoy how it makes you feel. A half hour ago you would've never dreamed you'd be in this situation. 

You cautiously nod and Ayato gently pulls your much smaller form into his chest. You sniff, still calming down from your episode. Ayato gently strokes your back. It sends shivers down your spine but you don't... hate it?? You're conflicted at this moment. A man who was once so cruel to you is now being the perfect gentleman. 

While battling your thoughts Ayato fills the silence. "When my sister and I were young, she would often hurt herself by accident. While she cried, I'd hold her like this until she would calm down." You hum softly. You're unsure what to say. This whole situation feels like a twisted dream. You feel like any moment you'd wake up in your bed and the sinister Ayato you'd known up until now would return.

You glance up at him, his eyes are closed as he still is gently stroking your back. He looks peaceful, a small gentle smile on his face. You dare even concur he looks rather handsome like this. Your face turns red as you now realize the situation you're in. Kamisato Ayato is holding you. Even worse, you're enjoying it.

One of his eyes opens and peers down at you. His smile gets wider but remains gentle still. "Feeling better?" He asks. "I think so. I apologize for my outburst My Lor-" "Ayato..." "Huh?" "You can apologize but please use my name, not my title." You snort with a smile, there's the Ayato you know. "I apologize for my actions Ayato. For the record as well, I don't hate you either." 

You pause for a brief second confused by your own confession, then words continue to spill out of your mouth. "I think I hated the way you treated me and just assumed you hated me. Besides you'd make me do silly things and would cause problems just for me to fix, making my life harder, it was frustrating but..." Ayato tips your chin up from his chest. You both stare at each other in silence.

Whatever rambles you had in your mind vanished and all you can think about now is how pretty his eyes are and how you never noticed until right now.  Ayato leans down, your lips inches apart from his, you can feel the heat of his lips radiating on to yours. "May I be bold once more Miss (Y/n)?"  You say nothing, you're absolutely frozen so he continues. "I think I did all of that because I'm positively enamored by you." Then closes the gap between the two of you, kissing you.

His lips are soft and as his hand moves from your back to your waist you find yourself kissing him back. It's gentle but tender, all that pent up rage for the man you once loathed melts and in this moment it feels like you two are the only ones in the world. He pulls away first. You stare at him, he looks positively breathtaking now. His other hand runs a finger over your bottom lip then joins his other hand on your waist. "If you hate it please tell me to stop, and I will." You shake your head. "Please... Continue."

-

His lips meet yours again this time with more passion. You wrap your arms around his neck and gently part your lips. Ayato takes this opportunity to deepen the kiss further, sliding his tongue gently into your mouth. His hands wonder about your body while he kisses you. You can't deny the sparks that follow in the wake of his touch. 

You part briefly to catch your breath and Ayato uses this as an opportunity to explore your neck. You tilt your head to the side giving him more access. He chuckles softly at your action. "So responsive." He teases against your neck. "Please keep your thoughts to yourself and keep kissin-" He bites down on your neck leaving whatever grip you had planned to die in throat and gets replaced with a soft moan. He lavishes the bite with his tongue and you're positive that's gonna be a mark you'll have to cover tomorrow morning. He tugs at the corner of your kimono staring into your eyes asking for silent permission to continue. 

Taking the hint you boldly slide down the shoulder of your kimono to let him continue. He smirks as continues his conquest from your neck to your newly exposed collarbones. Placing soft kisses on them while making quick work of sliding the top half of your kimono off, leaving the excess fabric to hang around your waist. The cold night air hits your skin leaving your exposed top half covered in goosebumps. Ayato reaches around to your back feeling for the clasp of your bra. "May I?" His voice comes out soft, filled with lust against the shell of your ear. "Please." You whimper.   He skillfully unclasped the bra freeing your breasts from the confines. Instinctively you cover your, your face bright red with embarrassment with another realization Kamisato Ayato, your boss, is about to see your naked body. 

Ayato wraps a warm hand around your wrist, planting a kiss on the inside of it. "If you're nervous we can stop here. If not..." His eyes wander to his bed, which is partially skewed from your vision due to the folding screen for Ayato's privacy sake. "No I want to continue... I just..." You laugh. "I don't want this to affect my job you know?" Ayato chuckles back. "I promise you it won't." You blush slowly unfolding your arms. "In that case..." He smiles, that's all the permission he needs and in one swift motion stands up and hoists your half clothes body over his shoulder, like you weighed nothing. 

He takes a few steps and throws you on to his bed, one you've made many times before and one you'll probably have to make again after this. He takes advantage of you getting comfortable to take off his top. You're once again faced with Ayato's bare torso, this time you are able to ogle at it as much as you'd like. "You're staring again." He says with a smug expression, climbing on the bed now towering over you. "Am I not allowed to My Lord?" You quip back. 

He raises an eyebrow and then you see that expression on him that you used to loathe, that sadistic smile. "I suppose I'll allow it tonight. I'll even do you one better." He once again grabs your wrists, this time places your hands on his bare chest, abs, shoulders. But Ayato being Ayato was in control of your movements Giving you the satisfaction of feeling his smooth skin but not giving you control to do so as you please. "Ayato..." You whine. He just laughs before releasing your hands and leans back down to kiss you again. 

While kissing you his hands wander to your breasts giving them a little squeeze. You can feel him smile in the kiss when you let out a small moan. "Sensitive?" He asks. You nod in response, worried your words will betray you. His kiss trails back down your neck to your breasts this time. Taking a nipple in his mouth and biting and suckling on it you can help but cover your mouth and whine in pleasure. He takes his other hand and messages the other breast pinching your other nipple occasionally. 

Your core was practically aching for friction at this point you wiggle your hips. Ayato's attention shifts again. "How cute.. Someone's needy." He says after releasing your breast from his mouth. He shifts his attention to untie your obi to get the rest of your pesky kimono out of the way. When he does you catch a glimpse of the sizable bulge in his pants. "I could say the same for you." You tease. "Can you blame me?" He responds as you lift your hips so you can let him discard your kimono on the floor. "Besides, your one to comment when your panties have a wet spot." He states bluntly as he slides off the bed dragging you by the hips to set you at the side of the bed. 

Ayato plays with the waistband of your panties eyes once again meeting your asking for silent permission to go on. As if you would stop him now. He must take your silence for reassurance because he drags your panties down your hips and discards them somewhere with your kimono. He parts your legs and spreads your pussy open. "You're soaked..." He sounds breathless as he stares at your glistening hole. "Don't stare!" You protest as you attempt to close your legs, admittedly flustered. Ayato, of course, overpowers you by keeping you legs spread and plants a firm's kiss on your clit. 

He takes his time eating you out. Making sure to tease all the spots he gets a good reaction out of you. Your grip on the beds' silken sheets will tear somehow. Ayato looks up at you making eye contact with you before sucking on you clit particularly hard. You almost cum right there. After a one more delicate kiss on your core he brings his fingers up to your mouth. "Suck on these for me please." He says. Instinctively you take his fingers in your mouth. The flush across his face as you tease the tips of his fingers is something you'll definitely be thinking about later. 

Once Ayato decides you've soaked his fingers enough he gently pulls them from your mouth. You let out a whine and Ayato takes the opportunity to spread your legs a bit wider. "Oral fixation... Good to know." He teases. Taking his now wet fingers he gently prods at your damp fold locking eyes with you as he slowly inserts a finger into you. You bring a hand out to cover the guttural moan that spills from your mouth. 

Ayato looks up at you, eyes boring into yours. "You better keep your voice down, we don't want the entire estate to know I'm giving my 'disobedient maid' a punishment. " He winks, and you click your tongue at him. Ayato quickly slides another finger into your hole before you can come up with something to throw back at him. 

Ayato scissors his fingers, opening you up for him. You feel close, that all too familiar high. "C.. close" is the only thing you can muster without being too loud, you were just so sensitive. He smiles sinisterly at you, rudely ripping his finger from your aching core. "Not yet, I want you to cum with me inside you." He bashfully explains. To think Kamisato Ayato is blushing, you still honestly can't tell if this is a fever dream or not.

While in your own thoughts Ayato shed the rest of clothing and you finally get to see his cock. It's definitely not going to fit... He's going to split you in half. You move to get off the bed to 'return the favor' but Ayato stops you. "Next time... I need you right now." Pushing you back down on the bed he grabs some oil stashed under his bed and lubes up his dick. Pumping it a few times for good measure. The anticipation is gnawing at you, as he runs his length in-between your folds. 

You open your mouth to tell him to hurry up, but his lips catch yours and he inserts himself into you. Ayato takes, what would have been an earth shattering groan, from your lips as he lets you adjust to his size. Pinning your arms above your head he peppers your face with kisses as your pain slowly morphs into pleasure. Eventually the pain stops and you relish in the feeling of being full, the glee of that gets old pretty fast and now all you want is Ayato to rail you into high heaven. 

You wiggle your hips as a gesture to show him you're ready and he smiles down at you. "Use your words... Ask me what you want." He's a fucking sadistic asshole. "Please?" You whine. "Please what? (Y/N), you always have something to say, why are you so shy now?" You hate him, tears of desperation fill your eyes. " Ayato please fuck me, I need you to fuck me. I can't-" You choke back a moan as Ayato slides all the way out of you and rams his dick back into you.  He buries his face into your neck. "Good girl." He praises before leaving yet another hickey you'll have to cover later. 

He sets a steady pace snapping his hips into yours. You can only imagine how fucked out you look right now. Ayato looks like an Archon himself above you, his furrowed brow and the sweat glistening on his forehead. To think you hated this man a few hours ago... Now look at you, completely at his mercy. The soft grunts he lets out next to your ear you wish to engrave in your memories forever. 

Ayato hits that spot inside you that makes your vision blur and you can't suppress the whine that spills out this time. "Ther..Fuck...There!" Ayato hones into that spot, causing you to fall over the edge. He gently thrusts in and out of you helping you ride out your orgasm. With the combination of your soft whines and how tight your climax made you, he pulls out and comes all over your stomach. 

With no strength left Ayato collapses, gently, onto you. "Noooo" you whine weakling. " My stomach is a mess now you're messy too." "I'll call for a maid to bring me a towel." You smack him and he laughs, rolling off you. He pushes himself up off the bed and grabs a small towel from a drawer. Gently tending to your cum covered stomach before attending to himself. You curl up on his bed, as you watch him as he grabs your clothes along with his. "So next time huh?" You smirk. "Pardon?" He freezes for a moment. "I owe you one, so you know... This doesn't have to be a one time thing." He clears his throat. "I wouldn't be opposed to that, I suppose."

 You push yourself up to grab your clothes from him but immediately regret it as every muscle in your body refuses to cooperate with you. You fall back on the bed Ayato chuckles softly. "Rest for a bit before leaving... Leaving too hastily will definitely cause more suspicion than leaving now anyway... " He lays back down on the bed pulling your body into his. "I didn't take you for a cuddler My Lord." You joke, followed by a yawn. He laughs, stroking your back just as softly as he did when you were crying. "Rest for a bit. I promise I'll wake you up in a bit." You nod sleepily into his chest. "Just for a bit is fine." You mumble before drifting off to sleep in Ayato's arms.

-------- ••• ------- ✧ °✧° ✧ -------- ••• -------

OH MY GOD I FINISHED IT HAHAHAHA GET ABSOLUTELY FUCKED PAST ME. If you read all of this I both sincerely apologize and thank you for reading my self serving fic. I hope you enjoyed it even a tiny bit.

[aeithalian]

As promised: Leto, Zeus, and parenting

I'M SORRY i know i said i'd get around to this two weeks ago but life got crazy but anyways HERE WE GO

I'm not the first to say this: we know virtually nothing about Leto and her parenting style. She makes a total of one appearance, is mentioned a couple times (mostly in the context of re-explaining Python's relevancy), and is only mentioned by another character besides Apollo once in the entire Riordanverse. For being the mother of one of the main characters, she is frustratingly underutilized as a character.

Yippee.

But, of course, I am going to dredge up every single reference to her parenting and personality as possible and determine just what kind of person and parent she is. Because here's my theory:

Apollo, while he is under expectations to be more like either Zeus or the other gods in terms of his parenting, probably takes more after Leto. So I think that if we can parse out Leto's personality and combine it with what we know of how Apollo parents, it gives us a good clue as to how Apollo and Artemis were raised.

First things first. Leto. Here's a list of things we know about her (aside from what happens in the myths):

Koios (her father) believes she would fight against Zeus due to the way he treated her after the twins were born (THoH)

Koios also considers her as one of the more peaceful Titans (THoH)

Leto seems to have an established life in a Florida condo (raising the question if she ever actually needed to reform or wasn't banished to Tartarus like the other Titans) (TDP)

Zeus and Leto used to have a much better relationship! (eg. the duet Apollo remembers them singing when he was a baby) (TDP)

Apollo writes a song for her every Mother's day (like the good momma's boy he is) (TDP)

Leto is willing to literally grovel in front of Zeus to save Apollo from his punishment (TDP)

Apollo (in a moment of mental haziness) can remember the impressions of Zeus and Artemis in his memory, but not Leto (TBM)

When calling to his godly family for help, Leto is the third (and last) person Apollo thinks of. Zeus is the first. (TON)

There's more to be said on the dichotomy between how Koios and Apollo perceive her, as well as Rick's nonexistent timeline skills, but that's pretty much all we know about her. That, and while she never had a traditional domain before the twins were born, she was later worshipped as a goddess of motherhood due to the large scope of influence her children had.

In summary, Leto:

Has a lot of reason to be angry with Zeus, but puts those feelings aside out of love for her children (and possibly because she remembers having that positive relationship with Zeus)

Is considered to be peaceful, but might not be (she might have condoned the murder of Niobe's children, among other stories). Regardless, she's considered gentle (by Hesiod, namely 👀 iykyk), and is one of the most celebrated mother figures in Ancient Greece aside from Demeter

Has a more distant relationship with her children for some reason (maybe the fact that she is a Titan and has lost favor with the gods, but based on how little Apollo mentions her compared to Zeus, he might not see her a lot)

We've never really met Leto, but based on this limited information, I think we can safely say that her personality probably includes traits such as gentleness, forgiveness, and responsiveness.

So, what does this tell us about how Apollo parents? Nothing, yet. So let's move on to Zeus.

NOBODY is surprised when I say this: Zeus sucks.

According to Apollo, Zeus very heavily utilizes what is called in psychology positive punishment, where a (typically unpleasant) stimulus is introduced in order to decrease a certain behavior that is seen by the punisher as undesirable. This is apparent every time Apollo talks about feeling the pain of Zeus' lightning bolts, or even when he compares Zeus to Nero and his Beast (the Beast being the stimulus that is introduced to keep Meg from rebelling).

Interestingly, the entirety of the ToA series and turning Apollo mortal could fall under the definition of negative punishment, where a stimulus (in this case, Apollo's godhood) is removed to decrease an undesirable behavior. However, turning Apollo mortal is still an introduction of a stimulus: pain.

See the similarities? Tangent aside, this is how Zeus parents. Restriction, then giving pain when the rules are broken, which then creates fear around those restrictions.

Let's give these firm definitions. Traditional psychology gives us four main parenting styles built around variances in how responsive and demanding a parent is. Take the image below:

Zeus is the easy one here: Authoritarian. I feel like we don't even need to discuss any further, he's quite literally a textbook definition. As king of the gods, he can't be responsive to everyone, but must demand much from his all-powerful subjects. The problem is that it bleeds into his parenting too much. He's ruling his children.

Leto is harder. Mostly because we just don't know enough about her, but I like to think she's got a higher level of responsiveness. Those types of parents are usually warmer, which goes along with Apollo's account of her and what we know from the myths about her gentle demeanor. So that narrows it down a bit, but her level of demandingness is harder to pin down. That's the issue when your children are immortal - you don't demand much from a child who is more powerful than you and matures fully within a week. I think Leto may lie somewhere in the middle of authoritative and permissive, but let's give her the benefit of the doubt. If she's the Titaness of motherhood, let's assume she's a great mom and say she's Authoritative.

Don't forget those, we'll come back to that.

The thing about parenting is that it's passed down from generations. We raise our children the way our parents raised us. That's why we call them "cycles" of abuse - because it keeps happening. That being said, I'm fairly confident that Apollo takes after Leto when it comes to parenting, because we see that he's already broken the cycle - even before we spent five books with Apollo, he's never outright harmed one of his own children the way we know Zeus did to him. So if he's not following Zeus' example, he's probably mimicking Leto's. Which then means he probably takes after her personality a bit, too, which was characterized by being gentle, forgiving, and responsive.

I don't know about you, but feels just like the Apollo we know.

Going back to the four parenting styles, you might be ready to call Apollo the Authoritative parent because it's the same as Leto's and call it a day. That's the point I was making, no? Wrong!

Yes, the ideal Apollo would be Authoritative. But, you know, we see him interact with his children, and he's just... not? What I think is that Apollo has gone through (or will go through) all four.

Authoritarian - This would be the first one he tries, because he might feel like he has to be like Zeus. There's one example of this with Koronis (yes, not really an example of parenting, but personality-wise, it's very Zeus-y), where he has Artemis kill her as a punishment for cheating. The story continues, blah blah blah, he fails to heal her but saves Asclepius by performing the first C-section. But I think that this is the moment where he choses to not be that kind of father. He gives Asclepius to Chiron as one of his first students, and from what we know of Apollo and Asclepius' relationship, it's good! Asclepius calls him "Dad" in BoO and wishes him the best - but it's still distant, in a sense. The apple fell pretty far from the tree, because acting like that, especially with the inner knowledge we have of Apollo from five books of content, never indicates Apollo being demanding and simultaneously lacking in any kind of responsiveness. So, in conclusion, Apollo has never consistently been Authoritarian, and being as such is in direct contradiction to his personality.

Uninvolved - This is what the gods (aside from Zeus, as king) are supposed to be, especially with their mortal children. If Apollo cannot be like his father, then he might as well try and be like all the other gods: being neither demanding nor responsive. We get hints of this with the Trophonius story - Trophonius' greed becomes his downfall, and Apollo does not intervene when called upon. Even without knowing what their relationship looked like before Agamethus died, it's pretty obvious that Apollo was absent on most accounts. We also see this example with other gods and their children - Poseidon and Percy, for one. Poseidon is never there, because this is what is expected and enforced by Zeus. Zeus, also, skews towards being Uninvolved with his mortal children - Jason met him once, people. But, again, this is pretty unlike Apollo to be able to maintain - he's simply too naturally responsive and empathetic to conform to this standard, and he confesses to the audience that he feels guilt around Trophonius' fate, indicating that being an Uninvolved parent was not something he found comfort and ease in.

Permissive - I believe that Apollo is most comfortable as a Permissive parent. But this goes along with something that I've always believed: Apollo doesn't necessarily parent his kids. I don't think many gods do (this goes along with another meta I want to do on godly maturity and how it relates to parenting, but I digress). Apollo is lacking in being demanding enough to properly parent his kids, but he makes up for it in overwhelming responsiveness. We know he's highly aware of other's needs, we see this a lot with his relationship with Meg, and this is something that he finds easy. He's sensitive and empathetic towards everyone, especially his own children, and (in the later books) has a great sense of what to say and when in order to get people to open up. But that lack of demanding is still there, and I think this is interesting for several reasons. It makes me wonder if Apollo does not demand from his children because he feels like he has not yet earned the right to. If it were me, and I had the face and body of a person the same age as my children, I would find it difficult to be the more mature person, too. But even at the end of the series, it doesn't look like he's making any moves towards being more demanding: when Rachel gives the prophecy to Will and Nico, he steps back into the Permissive parent role and indulges Will in what ends up being an incredibly dangerous quest to Tartarus (side note: this is one of the several reasons I found TSatS disappointing, because there are so many stones left unturned with how the premise could have allowed both Apollo and Will to realize that Apollo being a Permissive parent is not what Will needs). Yes, Permissive parents aren't bad parents, but especially with demigod kids who lack in proper parental figures that aren't Chiron, they might not necessarily be good parents either.

Authoritative - This is what Apollo has the potential to become, but it's going to take a huge wakeup call. The entirety of the ToA series is about Apollo learning that the way the gods have been doing things is not something he has to adhere to, and that he's allowed to utilize his natural instincts from Leto to be responsive. But being demanding is a whole new can of worms: Zeus is the only one who seems to be allowed to be demanding, but he does it without the responsiveness that makes it healthy. I think Apollo has yet to learn this - that you can demand from your kids and still be a good parent.

I wish there was more I could add. Artemis is a whole new rabbit hole that I'd love to go down, but alas, we know even less about her parenting styles because, well, she doesn't really have kids. Oops.

Alas, that's all I've got. The promised meta about Hermes and Apollo's relationship is coming soon!

Here's a masterlist of my other metas

[inquisitornocturn]

◇─ 𝕴𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖆 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖇𝖆𝖙 𝕹𝖎𝖍𝖎𝖑 ─◇

◇𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖒𝖊𝖓 𝕾𝖊𝖝 ─ 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝕾𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖘◇

⚜ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Inquisitor Lord Xavier Calcazar / oc!High Interrogator Volenta van Halvek von Valancius af Calixis / Interrogator Heinrix van Calox

⚜ 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: Overall story rating - E. This chapter: physical injuries, pain.

⚜ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: That snake Kunrad. How could he betray the Rogue Trader, how could he arrange such mutiny in which so many perish and Volenta, too, almost loses her life? But a new day breaks and she comforts herself with memories of her past with Xavier while her new reality, one of becoming a Lord Captain so soon and quite tragically, weighs heavily upon her shoulders. Abelard sees her struggle and attempts to help, only to learn her deepest secret.

⚜ 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 11,323| on AO3 |

⚜ 𝖆/𝖓: This is a hefty one size-wise but I was mighty reluctant to split it considering it's practically one event. Some of my all time favorite moments are here and I hope they will be enjoyed by those who read this chapter. Enjoy♡~

story summary and chapter list can be found here ⚜ artwork I commissioned for Volenta can be found under #oc: Inquisitor Volenta

Your helmet slipping on your eyes, your lasgun propped at your shoulder and your boots full of muck, you stand in an official parade formation among other soldiers. The bunker is dark but at least the smell of Colonel’s recaf flows through the otherwise musk filled room from the mixed unit that has been summoned straight from the trenches. Stenches of sweat, blood, and even tinges of piss can be discerned in the cacophony of smells, but you barely pay attention, listening to Sargan Willis brief your entire unit about the importance of this sudden summon.

An Inquisitor Lord is looking for people.

A murmur washes over the soldiers and Colonel Willis snaps his fingers.

“Pay attention, people, and look sharp. You have to show your best behavior before any of you-“

The door opens and the man falls silent. Everyone’s eyes turn to the one who enters. It’s a tall man, dark mane neatly combed back and sideburns make his face more regal than one you could imagine on an agent of the Golden Throne. An augmetic eye scans the room and everyone in it, and a steely gaze in the other one makes most gathered uncomfortable.

But not you.

You look at the man in awe.

Your helmet tries to slip over your eyes again and you push it back, not daring to miss even a second of the sight before you. You’re in a fifth row from the front but you see well the power armor that is black and gilded with gold, the Inquisition symbols adorning it and one even rising behind him from the power supply attached to the Inquisitor’s back. He wears a cloak, crimson just like the blood that is smearing your face and the ill-fitting uniform, but to you… to you the man looks like a God. You have never seen a single human personify the Emperor’s will so purely, so strongly, it almost feels like it radiates over the dingy, plain bunker room, washing it from impurities.

“Inquisitor Lord Xavier Calcazar.” Colonel announces when the man positions himself in the center in front of a first row, observing the soldiers quietly. All of you salute and shout the customary maxim of the Emperor protects, before standing to attention once again.

Calcazar nods slowly, as if in approval of the conduct of soldiers before him, and begins speaking, but you can’t even comprehend what he is saying. Something about picking people, something about only the best of the best being fit to serve the Inquisition. You don’t think you will be picked, so instead you just gawk at the man, wondering if you will see Imperium’s splendor like this ever again.

But Xavier’s keen eyes don’t miss a single person, and he certainly doesn’t fail in noticing a small-frame girl standing among men and women of clearly more years than you. Through the dirt and blood smeared on your face he can’t exactly tell your age, but your eyes, wide like saucers, draw his attention because they stand out so much through the grime on your skin. He talks, giving the customary introduction of why he’s here and what’s going to happen, but the Inquisitor’s eyes keep returning to the girl.

At last, when the speech is over, he makes a show of pacing the first line of soldiers, stopping by some, ignoring the others, until he strategically makes his way towards you, too intrigued to see someone this young fighting on the front lines of a war that, from what he can tell, is at least three times older than you. When Xavier halts right in front of this soldier, he looks down at you like someone would look at a pest by their feet, and yet you keep gawking at him, your lips parted in something near worship. Amused and in a small degree flattered, he almost chuckles, but stops himself before it happens.

“Introduce yourself.” Xavier demands and you perk up immediately.

You curtly salute him, with your eyes still wide and helmet threatening to slip over your eyes again because you move. It's clear that you're just another Hive rat destined to die, wearing some fallen soldier's uniform, too big of a helmet, with your boots barely holding together. But unlike others you don't appear given up on life just yet.

"Emperor protects, Lord Inquisitor! Corporal Volenta Scipio-Grimald of 263rd Imperium Legion battalion ‘Black Death’, at your service!" You rattle out as fast as a bolt gun and at this Xavier does smile.

The eagerness, the sharpness, he likes these qualities. Despite being pulled from the battlefield, you appear to be as awake as if you’re on battle stimms, unlike the rest who look beaten down and exhausted despite their best efforts to look sharp.

“Very good.” The Inquisitor nods, tapping his fingers over the spine of a book that hangs from his waist by a chain. “Do you have any battle achievements?” He asks simply because Xavier doesn’t know if you’re just eager or stupid.

As his eyes row over your form, the dirty uniform and everything else, he notices a heavy braid of white hair slipping from beneath your ill-fitting helmet. It is too splattered with blood, then his gaze also notices your chest. Yes, you are young, he assesses that you can’t be more than nineteen, maybe even less, but he sees a glimpse of cloth through the tear in your jacket and shirt. Binding her chest, Xavier notes in his mind and after a moment understands why. Being so young and in a mixed unit to boot, it’s a risk of being assaulted, especially if a feminine shape draws enough eyes from the male part of the regiment.

“I have a medal for Battle Merit, Lord Inquisitor!” You speak up while you stare at the man like you have forgotten to blink. For a moment your gaze drifts to the side because Colonel Willis approaches and stands by Calcazar’s elbow, his eyes harsh on you, silently warning you to behave.

“Battle Merit medal.” Xavier hums, then rises an eyebrow. “And for what deed the medal has been given to you?”

You pause, your eyes again darting to Willis and he clears his throat.

“If you’ll allow me, Inquisitor Lord, Volenta has been granted a medal after taking charge of her unit when the commander fell and launching a successful attack.” A pause while Willis looks at you sternly. “Stupid decision, she and the entire unit might’ve perished but… they returned. So she got a medal.”

Xavier listens, then looks at you again, clearly amused.

“Is he saying the truth?”

“Yes, Inquisitor.” You try to remain composed but both men can see corners of your lips rise slightly in a barely subdued smile.

“How old are you?” It’s a simple question and you don’t mind answering it, but you do notice the utter and complete silence among the soldiers. They try to hear every single word of the conversation. You wonder how they would react if you got picked.

“Seventeen, Inquisitor.”

At your answer, Xavier looks at Colonel with a questioning look and the man stutters before launching into a long reply.

“I’ve been assigned to this unit when she was already here, Inquisitor Lord. In her file it says that they picked her up on a Hive world called Thepaine. She was just wandering the streets so they took her in and brought her here, gave her a purpose, I have no other information-“

Calcazar rises his hand, silencing the man and looks back at you.

“How old you were when the Guard took you in?”

“Fifteen.”

Inquisitor’s eyebrow rises again in mild surprise. He heard of soldiers being picked among Hive world inhabitants, but most of them are usually adults, not little girls who haven’t even finished their time in schola. Even less so those little girls don’t get put in a, most likely, dead men uniforms and given guns, quickly to end up dead before they reached real adulthood.

“So you served for two years already.” Xavier sighs slightly, thinking.

He shouldn’t consider taking you, but on the other hand, you’re so young and you survived two years on the frontlines already. He knows your regiment as being one most soldiers refer to as a death sentence. Average lifespan of a soldier here doesn’t go over six months, even if that. And most end up here because they did something to upset Commissars of better regiments, so what are you doing here, if you have been here from the very beginning?

With his eyes fixed on you, still seeing the same magical awe in your expression that hasn’t left your face from the moment he entered the bunker, the Inquisitor leans a little closer, towering over you like a statue of a God-Emperor. When your eyes follow him, the helmet slips over your eyes and Xavier can’t help but smile ever so slightly before he pushes it up and away from your eyes.

“Tell me, Volenta, do you know what it is to serve His Most Holy Inquisition?”

Pain, somewhere far away and dull, but pain nonetheless. You frown, not wanting to let go of the part-dream, part-memory. You didn’t even know how to read when Xavier brought you back to his Inquisitorial flagship. He gave you absolutely everything, made you who you are today. Another memory returns as your mind clings to pleasant snippets of your past instead of acknowledging whatever it is happening in your current reality.

The time you started learning how to write and wrote Xavier’s name to impress him when Inquisitor asked you about progress. And how right after that you wrote the word penis, making him frown and then laugh. He chastised you for being so immature even for someone your age, but you didn’t care as long as you heard his laughter and felt a chuckle reverberate against your chest when you kissed him. That night you laid in his bed, naked as the day you were born, draped over Xavier’s own undressed lap, and tried to write things he dictated for you. Names of saints, of other Inquisitors, all while you shared a glass of some liquor or another that you can’t remember the name of. It tasted absolutely awful. It was only few months after he took you from the Guard, making your life something worth living.

“…hear me?”

Words, not Xavier’s, that much you can register and you don’t want to pay attention even if the pain is becoming sharper with each passing second, pushing the memories away no matter how hard you try to cling to them. No, no, you don’t want to wake just yet…

“Lord Captain, do you hear me?” A voice you don’t recognize, that is a certainty, and with a flutter of your eyelashes, because the light is so bright in your eyes, you finally look at whoever is calling you.

A tall man, short cropped grey hair, oculars on his nose, wearing a gown that was once white and pristine but now is smeared with blood and soot, crumpled in many places. He’s holding some sort of patch and a sponge dabbed with translucent muck that is most likely is medical.

“Lord Captain, you are back with us.” He speaks again and at last you place face to a name – Master Chirurgeon Lettard Forius.

You don’t remember much, not right away. First instinct is to sit up and you do while gritting your teeth. Every muscle in your body is screeching with pain and your skin feels on fire.

Fire…

You walked through the fire, you remember it now, and a carousel of memories return to you in flashes: the mutiny, Kunrad’s betrayal, the Warrant Chamber and the sentinel, Abelard and your trip to the Navigator’s Sanctum. Idira and her useless powers that had her knocked out almost half the time the fighting was happening. Sister Argenta and the flames, Theodora who wasn’t really Theodora, tempting you to sin. The shining aquila that you saw after your walk through the fire and Abelard’s shocked gasp when you stood, albeit with his help, to keep fighting. You remember the mutations on Edelthrad’s body before he rushed you off to check on the Lord Captain only to find her body slumped over the desk, Mort dead too. More fighting, Kunrad performing some sort of heretical ritual, Edelthrad… going through rapid mutation and dying by your hand. And then…

And then you became the Lord Captain.

You clutch your head with both hands and groan, unable to help yourself. The pain, the whirlwind of experiences. May the Emperor curse the damned Tzeench slave that Kunrad has become. For how long has he served the Ruinous Powers? For how long he was a thorn, secretly festering in Theodora’s side? Not even Xavier suspected, not even his agents-

“Lord Captain, are you with me?” Master Forius calls again and you rise your eyes to the man, barely seeing him through strands of your hair that now look grey from the ashes. Slowly you lower your hands into your lap, trying to find the end of a string that has started to unravel in your mind. Too much all at once and then there’s the pain.

“Yes.” You finally manage, then clear your throat and try again, this time sounding stronger. “Yes, I hear you.” Slowly you look around, realizing that you’re most likely in a Medicae Bay. You note clean walls and tidy sheets, a one person room. Others probably are being treated by less skilled doctors, in less private surroundings.

Then, you look at the man again, your eyes briefly betraying shock at realization that you’re completely naked under the thin sheet that is covering your lower half. You don’t care for your own nudity, what matters is the tattoo.Hhe must’ve seen it and Forius confirms it with a simple sentence. “I have treated most of your burns, Lord Captain, including ones on the back.” He doesn’t try to hide that he saw and you swallow dryly, tasting ash in your mouth.

“You saw nothing there worth of concern?” Keeping an eye contact you ask slowly, making sure that every word is clear and full of intention, to which chirurgeon just shakes his head.

“Most of the burns went to your neck area and your arm, your thigh, the back was almost untouched and I saw nothing of concern there.” Then, after a pause he adds when you don’t relax. “Nothing at all.”

Good, most often doctors of such high grade like Rogue Trader’s personal healer know how to keep secrets and since he saw your Inquisition tattoo, and obviously the scars around it, he most likely suspects your involvement with the Most Holy Ordos to some capacity. You’re not eager to reveal the truth, so you just nod and finally look down at yourself, inspecting the damage, but just as Lettard said, your left side suffered most of the burns and appears to be almost completely covered in same medical ointment that the man is holding.

“Let me finish it up.” Lettard’s voice is practical and casual as he leans closer, brushing your hair away that already have stuck to the balm on your neck. He dabs at it with the sponge, gently and carefully, barely making it hurt. A featherlike touch that you find yourself grateful for.

“Where’s others?” You wonder, struggling to believe that you’re here alone with just the medic, after being pronounced the new Rogue Trader, especially after everything that transpired.

“Your Seneschal is waiting outside. We needed to remove your burnt clothes but he refused to overlook the procedure.”

You almost chuckle at the thought of Abelard, who apparently you inherited through Theodora’s death as your Seneschal, being all upset and offended at possibly seeing you naked, even if you were in need of medical assistance.

“For the best, I don’t feel my most beautiful self today to put on a show.” With a wry smile you look at Forius who doesn’t even pretend to smile. His eyes look enlarged behind the oculars and this time you do chuckle. You don’t know what has come over to you, but everything is just… so funny.

“If these burns heal well, and I have no reason to believe they won’t, you will be looking your usual self, Lord Captain.” The man murmurs and you laugh, your giddiness only increasing in light of his stone-like attitude.

“For better or for worse, right.” You giggle and Lettard gives you a brief look, then presses a sheet of gauze over the ointment, leaning back and stepping away.

He gestures to a glass by the bed and you take it, trying not to choke through your laughter when you attempt to drink. But then you drink it whole while your heart pounds in your chest. The humorous light which you were basking in for a few minutes disappears without a trace and you clear your throat again.

“What can you tell me?” Pulling the thin sheet away, you see same patch that the medic just used on your thigh and hip hugging your waist and circling towards your back. You feel them all, pulling at your healthy skin as they attach themselves to the wounds.

“Not much, Lord Captain. A lot of people injured, many more dead. Master Werserian might be able to tell you more.” Forius walks to the sink and peels off his gloves, washing his hands with soap. “But we made it out of the warp before Master Vespiadas perished.”

“Thank the Emperor…” With relief you sigh and nod, then carefully move your legs, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking around for anything you can dress yourself in.

“The bandages I applied will cover your wounds like second skin, give them an hour or two to properly attach themselves to the damaged tissue and then you should feel much better. Can shower as well. Tomorrow I’d like for you to return so that I can inspect the healing progress.”

As he speaks, Master Chirurgeon walks to a simple steel closet and digs out some sort of robe looking garment that you have no choice but to accept. Completely in the nude, you are not going to stroll through the ship with your womanhood on display. So when you stand and pull on the robe, tying it around yourself, Forius even places a pair of slippers in front of you. You wince at the sight.

“Is there nothing more… dignified?” Glancing at the man you see him solemnly shake his head and you resign to looking like a loon when you cross the vessel to your chambers. What a start of your life as a Rogue Trader.

With a sigh you put your feet into the slippers and glance around but see neither your plasma pistol or your power sword anywhere, which you assume Abelard has taken.

“Thank you, Master Forius.” You nod to him and the man shows a tiniest hint of surprise because you know his name, considering he didn’t introduce himself, but then nods in return and steps aside, allowing you to head for the door.

Outside, Abelard indeed is waiting and just as you suspected he is holding onto your weaponry. However, he doesn’t seem to have needed much medical help, because he’s still wearing same uniform, burnt in places and smeared with soot and blood, mostly those of others, not his. Besides that, the Seneschal appears to be in quite good health and whatever made him bleed earlier, the sleeve that was drenched when you met him at the antechamber of the Trade Warrant room, neither has stopped him since then, nor it seems to be still bleeding. You hope that he did let someone attend to his own injuries instead of standing guard over the door that no one was trying to break down in the first place.

“Lord Captain, how are you feeling?” Abelard asks immediately, stepping up closer and letting his gaze sweep over your robe-clad form with scrutiny of an experienced field medic, inspecting you just as you inspected him.

His familiarity with healing is something you have read in his file, or so you think, because right now even yesterday’s memories, that seem like they have happened a lifetime ago, seem hazy and hard to decipher. You try to think of details you read, try to focus, but wailing from the beds all around the Medicae Bay become too distracting on top of you fighting the fog in your mind. Your eyes drift for a moment to a passing chirurgeon, his white robes dripping with someone’s blood and leaving a trail of footsteps as the man hurries by with a tray of instruments. No one is paying any attention to you, thankfully, except for Abelard, who speaks up when he doesn’t receive an answer.

“You gave us a scare back there, Lord Captain.” He starts and you look at your Seneschal again, shifting your focus onto him through fatigue and exhaustion. “You fought valiantly and collapsed only after the fighting was over.” Then his gaze fills with a hint of admiration and whole lot of pride. Even a small smile appears, lifting the corners of his moustache ever so slightly. “But… after seeing you walk through the flames, I can’t say I am that much surprised by your fortitude. Here you are again, standing and walking, when most other soldiers would have not had the strength just yet.”

“I did what was needed.” You pause, not sure what else to say. You’re not the one to express sympathy, but maybe because of your tiredness or maybe the explosion of today’s events, you clear your throat slightly. “I’m sorry about Lady Theodora.”

Abelard’s smile falters and then disappears, he lets out a heavy sigh and you can see grief push through normally schooled, stern expression of his.

“I am too, Your Ladyship. But the mourning can wait.” First officer remains quiet and then clears his own throat, feeling slightly awkward before extending your weaponry to you. Yet when you reach for them you both see that your fingers are trembling so much so that the man pauses and moves the items out of your reach. “Let’s get you to your room first.” Then after a brief moment of hesitation he adds. “Technically, you have inherited late… Lady Theodora’s room already, but the serfs need to…”

You stop him with a rise of your shaking hand.

“It’s fine, I’m in no hurry to take up the Lord Captain chambers. I just want to return to my room and recuperate.” With a wry smile you gesture at yourself and how you are dressed. “Not the most fitting outfit for a brand new Rogue Trader. I need to change. And a shower first.”

Even to you it’s obvious how tired your voice sounds despite your attempt to appear casual and even light-hearted. You still see grief etched in Abelard’s gaze, his sorrow poorly hidden. The wound of losing Theodora is all too fresh, still bleeding, you can understand that even if you don’t feel the sorrow yourself. After all, you met the woman once and now with her death, and that of Edelthrad’s, the weight of a whole dynasty dropped onto your shoulders with the heaviness of an entire galaxy.

At last Abelard nods, but notices your effort to appear unperturbed and the shoddy act of trying to hide how your injuries are affecting you. He sighs again, relenting despite his instinct urging him to lecture you about the importance of your wellbeing, especially at the time like this.

“Right this way.” With a hand that holds your pistol the Seneschal gestures, but you frown slightly, not moving.

“I think I can find my own way.” You try not to sound rude, but it’s so incredibly hard to keep your composure and perfect discipline. Your body is throbbing with pain, but admittedly the burns under the patches that Forius applied begin to dull the scorching ache to an almost bearable degree. You need rest, that much even you understand and accept.

“You most likely can and I do not doubt your capabilities of orienting yourself in your own ship.” Says Abelard, both of you politely ignoring that it’s only your second day on a vessel that didn’t even belong to you several hours ago. “But just in case that worm Kunrad’s traitors have not yet been completely eradicated from every corner where they could be lurking, I insist on accompanying you personally and ensuring that your life and health do not come to any further threats. Again.” Seneschal clears his throat for the third time, obviously still feeling slightly uncomfortable, but you have no more fight left in you.

You want a shower, Forius even said you can even have one soon, and you already dream of washing the soot and the smell of burnt flesh from your hair and body. With a sigh and an undignified shrug, because dressed as you are you do not feel very authoritative in a first place - you relent.

“Very well, lead the way then.”

Abelard lets out a smallest sigh of relief, seeming pleased that you didn’t put up a bigger fight and begins walking, the sound of his boots erasing any noise of your slippered feet as you walk by his side, still trying to wrap your mind about everything that happened. Before leaving the Medicae Bay you glance at the curtains surrounding beds from which cries and wails of agony keep emanating, then leave it all behind you. At least you didn’t end up like them, in whatever way they did end up.

Walking by Abelard’s side, you try to gather your thoughts, but one urgent need emerges before all the others. Xavier… Xavier has to be informed, he can advise, he can-

He can what?

You shake your head slightly, trying to get rid of any doubt that begins to gnaw at you because of your exhaustion. Maybe the plan came to be realized sooner than either of you thought, by no small meddling on Voigtvir’s part, but your mission remains the same: act like a Rogue Trader, pledge to His Most Holy Inquisition when you publicly can, claim your title as the Inquisitor on a later date. Although you realize that the consequences of such scale mutiny will most likely need to be dealt with first.

As you try to keep up with the Seneschal, deep in your thoughts, Abelard sees your expression change from clear exhaustion to grim determination. The difference is especially stark when he watches your grey gaze become clear and sharp, in contrast to the haze that seemed to cling to you from the moment you exited Master Chirurgeon’s room. Not anymore though, and the older officer allows himself a tiniest sigh of relief, seeing that whatever material his new Rogue Trader is made of is at least not bound to fall apart after the first ordeal, no matter how big the scale of this particular ordeal is.

“Abelard.” When you address him, the Seneschal snaps out of his own thoughts that were carrying him far along the plans for the future, both immediate and far.

“Yes, Lord Captain?”

“Are there any reports in yet? I’d like to know the amount of casualties and what things require utmost emergency.” With your gait firm again, you stroll by Abelard’s side with newfound confidence, not least made possible by Master Lettard’s exquisite skills in tending to your burns, because the pain is still subsiding, slowly, but steadily, enabling you to find your thoughts and properly arrange them.

“Lord Captain, despite how much I admire your desire to attend to matters immediately, there are only few reports coming in for the time being. We made it out of the warp, that’s the most important thing. Master Helmsman Ravor informed me that the ship withstood substantiable damage, however the full extent of such betrayal will only be known in the morning. You will have to attend your first officers’ meeting, but until then, I highly recommend, insist even, that you rest. The road from this point forward is not going to be an easy one.”

The corridors all blend into one while Abelard leads you expertly through the vessel’s passageways and you resign to not try and memorize the path just yet, telling yourself that you will have time for it later, trying to set your priorities straight, organize them so that you can act as efficiently as possible.

“Master Vespiadas?” With a glance you make sure that Abelard doesn’t show any signs of perchance withholding information from you but his face looks as stoic as ever.

“Unfortunately, the Navigator gave up his life valiantly while ensuring that the von Valancius dynasty does not end tonight. He will be mourned together with others that perished at a later date.”

You knew this already, from Lettard, but Abelard confirming it makes your brow furrow. If there’s no Navigator and if report by Ravor is correct, which you have no reason to doubt, you will have to find a Navigator somewhere, and sooner rather than later. You are not sure how long the vessel can go without immediate repairs but you hope that she’s sturdier compared to the impression you have gathered upon your arrival.

“So we need a Navigator, we need repairs and most likely to replenish the working crew. Manageable, but only if Emperor is on our side.” Stopping, you make Abelard mirror your action, then he nods, agreeing with your assessment of the situation. “Do we know where we emerged?”

At last you see a degree of relief in Seneschal’s scarred face as if he’s about to tell you the best news you have heard in your entire life.

“The Emperor did grace us with luck, Your Ladyship. We emerged at the Rykad System, where the vessel was headed to begin with. Late Lady Theodora was heading here with a task, but… for now it can wait.”

“I found a letter in her study when we discovered her body. Inquisitor Lord requested she picks up an agent of his, is it not?” You keep your composure despite the fact that speaking of Xavier makes your heart leap in your chest. Oh how you wish you could feel his arms on you, reassuring you in a way that only he can. Alas, you know it will be a long time before you see the Inquisitor again and your whole body stiffens with the feeling of yearning, but you push it away for the time being.

Abelard doesn’t hesitate to confirm with yet another nod, quickly realizing that your background in Astra Militarum and your position as a general doesn’t require him explaining how it’s important to heed such request with seriousness and urgency.

“That is correct. Thankfully, the esteemed Interrogator van Calox should be somewhere in this system, which is again lucky for us, because we just might find a Navigator and people to bolster our numbers. Unfortunately, however, repairs that the vessel needs can only be done at Footfall, but if we request aid from House Orsellio, which has a station on Eurac V, then we can make direct translation to the asteroid cluster and to the ship dock immediately.”

You don’t answer right away, mentally listing the tasks for yourself.

“I will think of what needs addressing first and foremost upon tomorrow’s morning when I receive full reports of damage and losses.”

“A wise decision, Lord Captain. And we’re almost at your chambers.” With a turn on his heel, Abelard resumes guiding you but thankfully it doesn’t take much more than five minutes for you to actually recognize the door as the one guarding your belongings behind it.

You stop by it, feeling the coldness of the ship beginning to seep into your bones, making the pain that now is a dull thrum emphasized with each heartbeat, turn from something that made it difficult for you to move, to an ache that you can practically ignore.

“I will post guards by your chambers.” Abelard says and at last hands you the plasma pistol and the power sword that you take with a degree of affection, finally being able to hold something that’s actually yours, anchoring you even more in this whirlwind of events and tragedies.

“That would be most wise if you suspect there’s still traitors among our ranks.” You agree and rise your eyes to the Seneschal, meeting his tired, but firm gaze.

“Rest well, Your Ladyship. Your dynasty needs you strong. I have a feeling that there are going to be many perils ahead of us.”

“I believe so as well. You rest as well, Abelard, if you can. We will have to see what we can do tomorrow.” You both exchange nods of acknowledgment and then you head inside the room, listening to how hydraulics hiss when they seal you inside from the rest of the vessel.

Thankfully, the storm that passed over the flagship avoided your personal room and you are relieved to finally get some reprieve and a moment to think, to tend to your needs and hurts, and plan for the day to come.

After placing your weapons onto the desk you suddenly swear, realizing that you have forgotten to ask Abelard about the Astropath Choir because you still need to get in contact with the man Xavier mentioned. But his name doesn’t come to you immediately and you let go of the thought for the time being, trying not to overwhelm yourself with a rapidly growing to-do list in your mind. Very briefly you also wonder if any of the Inquisitor’s agents have survived and how you are going to handle them if there are any of them alive, but again, you try not to linger and head for the bathchamber.

After washing up and finally cleaning yourself from the ordeals that you went through, you pour yourself a drink, then another, and then a third, all while you sit in bed with your safe box in front of you, lid open. You’re holding onto your precious rosette while looking at it with exhaustion that is finally and fully encompassing your entire being. But you gaze with reverie as well, looking at the symbol of your station for hope, for guidance and comfort. You want to pray and so you do, uttering the words that you learned from some Sisters of Battle years ago, yet abstaining from leaving your chambers to look for a chapel, because your entire body feels at its limit and you know better than to push yourself now. It’s over, it’s done.

The von Valancius dynasty is yours.

What a thought, what a day.

You rub the pad of your thumb over the rosette and take a long drink from the glass, quickly feeling the soothing effects of alcohol. You heave a sigh because you truly don’t know whether to be happy or not. Xavier’s plan came to fruition much faster than either of you anticipated or predicted, sure, but at the same time you feel the heavy weight of your role. You thought you will have time to learn from Theodora, that you will have the luxury to observe and learn the ropes of a Rogue Trader, because while it’s not entirely unfamiliar to you, you still never bothered to really understand what is expected of them besides aiding the Inquisition when such need arises.

You think about many things, trying to find places for all of them in your head, but exhaustion is beginning to wear you down completely and combined with the liquor that you don’t stop yourself from gulping down, emptying a fourth glass, you understand that sleep at this point is unavoidable.

Solemnly you lock the safe box and put it in the crate that came with you. You didn’t even finish unpacking, but maybe that is for the better in the end, because tomorrow you will be sleeping in a room that belonged to Theodora herself. How fast the world turned upside down for you. Still, you throw some other items into the crate to cover the box and set the glass aside after pausing for a moment, wondering if you should drink just one more before falling asleep, but decide against it.

In the bathchamber again, while you brush your teeth, you look at yourself in the mirror. The burns on your neck have been covered with the patch, but the dark circles under your eyes and clearly evident fatigue mars your pale face in ways that cannot be hidden and can only be remedied by sleep. Might as well, you tell yourself, it’s not like you’re of any use while drinking alone in your room and trying to fully internalize the day’s events.

After dousing lights in the room, you lie in bed and look at the armorcys window that opens to the view of space. The shutters have been risen before you returned here and there’s something comforting in not seeing the warp’s horrifying embrace but a familiarity of the known galaxy. In the far distance your eyes observe a planet, maybe even two, but it’s too distant to tell, and you wonder which one it is. Names of all of them escaping you while your mind begins to dull and slow.

Sleep starts to weigh heavily upon you like a blanket and at last you let your eyelids close, submerging yourself in peaceful darkness. For a brief moment you wonder what Xavier is doing. Is he thinking about you? He doesn’t have a reason to, the news of Theodora’s death won’t reach him for a while, or so you suspect, so you set your mind on finding the Choir to send out a message, to tell him you’re alright even if the Inquisitor Lord doesn’t know how close you came to becoming one of the many casualties tonight.

Thankfully you persisted, and you will keep persisting, for there’s no rest for the agents of the Golden Throne.

The Emperor protects, you think to yourself and feel warmth fill your chest that is almost otherworldly. Maybe you’re being sent another sign, like the aquila that appeared after you leaped through the flames, or maybe it’s just your devotion and love that you have for the Master of Mankind, and for Xavier of course, the two guiding stars of your life.

Then sleep finally descends upon you, bringing no dreams with it and granting you much needed rest, for both body and mind.

***

The pain again. It pierces through your mind and it’s like your entire body becomes aflame with emergency lights, all blinking and signaling the distress, making you feel like a shuttle coming down from the orbit. You groan and sit up with your hair cascading on both sides of your face and run a palm over your eyes downwards, trying to wake up, but the throbbing takes over the first couple minutes of your consciousness. When at last you open your bleary eyes, the blinking dataslate on the table draws your attention. Of course there’s things to be addressed that circumvented even Abelard’s careful insistence that you get rest.

You scan the room like you fully expect another heretic or a mutineer to jump from a darkened corner, but only see the von Valancius banners hanging from the rafters, the small corner cogitator blink with lazy hue, the candles crackling, lit anew by an unseen hand, most likely a servoskull that has an entrance vent in the far corner of the wall, right against the ceiling.

After another painful moment passes and the throbbing doesn’t cease or relent, you will your body to move. It obeys you heavily, your joints feeling as stiff as unoiled hinges of a Titan, but you do move. First your legs, then you stand, grasping for support at the nightstand nearby when your feet almost betray you.

Priorities, priorities…

Wash up, take a pill to numb the pain, dress, stuff your belongings back into the crates so that serfs don’t have an idea to touch your items. A meeting.

Forcing your mind to focus through the pain, you follow the seemingly easy steps of your first day as a Rogue Trader and by the time you’re tossing clothes and books into the open jaw of the bigger crate, you already feel better, your mind is clearer, although not as clear as you wish it to be. That will come, you reassure yourself, the painkiller that you took with a mouthful of amesac, which you know Xavier would frown upon if here was here, is going to start working at any moment.

And when it does, you are all ready to present yourself to the people aboard this ship, to lead the dynasty down the path that you will choose for it. One of loyalty, one of the Inquisition, if not openly just yet.

Abelard was true to his word and while you didn’t doubt it, after you exit the room, you still are pleased to see some voidsmen-at-arms guarding your door just as you were promised. They all greet you with curt shouts and aquila signs over their chests, before the group of three men and two women begin trailing after you unlike some ducklings following mother goose. You barely notice that, used to having company in one shape or another, or belonging to one yourself when you work with Silas. However, formal greetings and ‘Lord Captain’s’ of crewmen that you pass on your way to the Bridge is a combined novelty. Lady Interrogator, Lady van Halvek, Volenta… all of these you are used to hearing from various people in your life, alive or dead, but the new title is still unusual to your ear, like a brand new commbead that hasn’t quite been molded to your needs.

Still, despite regulatory greetings and generally respectful expressions, you do notice a few scowls here and there, few murmurs that escape your hearing by being exchanged between two workers. No, you didn’t expect to be suddenly cheered and celebrated, that didn’t happen even when Xavier took you back with him to his flagship. The memory makes your lips twist in a small wry smile.

You remember that day well, too well maybe. During the shuttle ride Xavier mainly kept quiet, only once observing you and your emaciated form, clad in a dead man’s uniform, but otherwise just telling you how serious of an opportunity it is that he chose you. You nodded, thanking, gawking at him but trying not to and failing of course, at which you chuckle slightly and receive couple curious glares from your escorts in the present.

The moment you two stepped onto the dock, part of the Inquisitor’s retinue was waiting for him already. Most of them perished through the years only to be replaced with others, like the one you are ought to find in this system, the van Calox man. But then it was three men and a woman, who immediately scrunched her nose at your appearance only to be scolded by Xavier.

She was instructed to show you to a room, to make sure you bathe, that you are dressed, groomed, presentable. And you actually ended up fighting her while in the tub when the lady tried to wash your hair, threatening to put you into an airlock if you don’t stop pushing her away. No dice, you chuckle at the memory again and try to keep yourself quiet as images of events long ago flash in your mind’s eye. The lady, what was her name? Ah yes, Myredeth, the assassin in Xavier’s retinue. She definitely tried her damnest to scrub you clean, seemingly taking the Inquisitor’s order to ensure you are taken care of as a personal challenge. Problem was, you didn’t know what a tub was and wasn’t very willing to let a stranger rub you with a sponge despite not being shy about being naked.

The whole ordeal ended up with Myredeth soaked to the last thread herself, shoving your head under what was left out of the water in the tub, just to make sure your white hair actually was white again, and with you fighting for dear life while furious at her actions. After that, you were left alone to dry off but only temporarily, before the lady returned with your new clothes, a uniform that Xavier insisted those under his command wear, and tried to squeeze you into a bra. A piece of clothing that you have never wore before.

Later that day, when Calcazar insisted on seeing how this dirty gem of a soldier looks after being administered the Emperor’s cleansing, you couldn’t stop being restless, which naturally drew Inquisitor’s attention. You did tell the man right away, and without shame, what the issue was, and when he tried to dismiss your complaint as you being just undisciplined, you near tore off your jacket and shirt open, showing him how the bra was digging into your flesh. The memory of Xavier’s eyes in that moment, wide as serving plates in the mess hall, is something that nearly bends you in half with laughter which you try to chase away by clearing your throat.

In the end, it turned out that the bra size was too small and you still refused to wear one for months, until Xavier started putting it on you every morning himself, lecturing you about propriety and swinging flesh in battle. You sigh, wistfully almost, but your spirit is lifted and when your mind focuses on reality once more, just in time as you approach the Bridge, you feel like yourself again despite the dull pain thrumming at your body like poison that instead of seeping in, is trying to get out from underneath your skin.

Uncomfortable but determined not to show it, you pull at the lapels of your greatcoat and enter the Bridge, keeping your stance composed, disciplined and most importantly – authoritative. It’s your time to show who’s in charge. So when you stroll towards your seat that is more like a throne rising above the command center, Abelard doesn’t at first see just how much you are actually struggling.

“Good morning, Lord Captain, I hope you feel better today.” With a greeting and even voice the man walks after you and stops at the bottom of the few stairs that you have to take before you can sit down.

“Much better, Abelard, thank you. Can I get a recaf before we start?” You could probably also use a meal too, to give your healing body energy to do so faster, but you are too determined to get emergency business out of the way first.

“Of course, Lord Captain.” And while you fully expect Abelard to fetch you a cup himself, that’s far from what he actually does, which is to give a stern glare to a serf and bark out an order. “Get Her Ladyship a cup of recaf!” It makes you rise your eyebrows slightly, but you say nothing, just eye the man while you both wait for the command to be executed which takes approximately maybe two minutes, with the serf nearly stumbling over himself as he rushes and kneels, gifting you a gift of caffeine.

When you carefully sip from the cup, Abelard observes you, noting the patch on your neck and the way you seem to wince ever so slightly when you have to use your left hand for the drink.

“If you may allow me, Lord Captain, you should go and see Master Forius after the meeting is done.” The Seneschal slowly starts and you glance up at him, holding eye contact for a little longer than needed before you look down at the cup in your hands.

“It is not necessary, I am well enough to walk and talk, the rest just needs time.” You take another sip and curse internally because the brew is far too hot to be consumed at the pace you would prefer right now, craving that punch of the wake-up juice as some of the younger acolytes started calling it nowadays.

“Volenta-“ Abelard immediately catches himself and coughs. “Lord Captain, it is not wise to strain yourself when you are injured. Master Forius has served Lady Theodora for many years without fail and treated her-“ With a rise of your left arm, accompanied with another small wince, you make Seneschal stop talking and he just puffs out his chest, clearly fighting the urge to argue with you.

“I will consider it.” A compromise is usually the best route with men like Abelard and it seems to work now too as he deflates to his usual firm composure.

“Very well, Your Ladyship. If you want me to call upon the officers, I shall do so immediately.”

“Yes, that would be most satisfactory.” With a sigh, you lean back in your tall chair, hearing the ancient wood creak with your weight, and wait.

You are swiftly introduced to the people that some of you know and some that are new. The new ones replaced those dead after yesterday’s tragedy. Taking your task seriously, but nonetheless feeling bored with the petty problems that some of your officers present you, you only perk up when you hear a scoff of displeasure.

“What are we ought to do! No help, no crew, no Lord Captain-“

“Silence!” Abelard’s voice bellows like a trumpet, cutting the infantile mutineer off like a sword through grease and everyone stiffens. You smirk, waving a hand at your Seneschal.

“No, let the man speak, I want to hear what he has to say.” You sip on your recaf, watching the front row of officers depart so that you can get a view of the man that spoke up, his appearance bearing no significance whatsoever besides the gash over his face that he clearly received in the recent fight.

He stands where he is, eyes on you with anger and fear, and yet he speaks again, risking it all.

“You cannot expect us to follow you! Lady Theodora has been our Lord Captain for our entire lives! You cannot just replace her, heir or not! We don’t know you!”

Yes, you expected this much, especially about how abrupt your step into the throne of the voidship has been. A mutiny that would flower like a poisonous bloom given the chance. For a moment you consider this crewman-turned-officer and curl your fingers under your chin, supporting your head when you relax.

And then you smile.

“Is that all?” Not letting the man even open his mouth again, just watching his face keenly, you smirk wider. “Execute him, Abelard. Speaking against authority is a sin of treason, which is heresy, and we won’t be tolerating any more sin aboard my ship.”

Man’s face shifts. At first it shows fear, then anger, which changes to fury almost instantaneously and you relish the sigh, taking another drink of recaf.

“Right away, Lord Captain.” There’s not even a moment of hesitation in Abelard as he points at present deck enforcers and orders them to drag the man away. Last thing you hear of him is a manic laughter, after when it fades, it leaves those gathered in grim silence.

“Proceed.” You say with a smile and lightness in your heart. At least you are back in your element, giving orders, as you should be, even if it’s not under the Most Holy Ordo banner, but that will come too in due time.

Rest of the meeting goes without any other interruptions and when everyone disperses, you stand with a quiet grunt of pain, only to be stopped by running Idira and Argenta, who chases after her. You have no patience for the mad psyker so when she starts babbling some sort of premonition, you dismiss her immediately and order Abelard not to let her come onto the Bridge again. Witches… you will have a lot of pleasure handing her to that Interrogator you are meant to pick up, and you are sure he will be delighted as well. Maybe something to share a drink over at a later date, but for now, you hear Abelard informing you that he would like to show you to your new chambers.

With hands clasped behind you and a show of authority in how you hold yourself, you follow the Seneschal to the lift that is thankfully not too far. Your body is aching because the meeting took longer than you expected and the pill that you consumed earlier is beginning to lose its affects.

At the Lord Captain’s chambers, stepping out of the elevator, you approach a painting of Theodora that is hanging untouched by what happened.

“I want this changed.” You say, noticing the dust collected over the pages of scripture book placed on a display right under it. Aware that you most likely will find more signs of Theodora’s lack of faith throughout her former chambers, you hear Abelard hesitate behind you.

“We will need a portrait of you, Lord Captain.”

Right. And you don’t have one. Not one that doesn’t show you in full Inquisitorial regalia. You clear your throat and turn to Abelard.

“Then find me someone who can get one done, but in the meanwhile I’d like this removed anyway.”

“For this you will have to talk to High Factotum Janris, Your Ladyship. He handles most of such tasks.”

“Then I shall.” You turn and suddenly your burnt thigh makes your entire leg feel weak. When you stumble, the Seneschal rushes closer and grabs your elbow in attempt to support you.

“Master Foriu-“ He begins but you just scoff and the man shuts up immediately, stepping back when you straighten yourself and walk into the study room. It has been cleaned from corpses and blood, effectively too, because you don’t even smell the scent of crimson iron that was splashed everywhere just yesterday.

“Does Your Ladyship require anything else?” You hear Abelard’s voice behind you as you slowly walk around the room, taking in everything that’s here: the wall of weaponry, the regicide board, an Aeldari trophy, an organ that makes you wonder what kind of music is stores. But at the question you stop and look at him.

“How’s the Astropath Choir is doing?”

“Only a handful of loses, most of them managed to seal the chambers before the mutiny spread.”

“I wish to visit it today.”

“As you wish, Lord Captain.”

Abelard is about to leave when you don’t ask him anything again, but he lingers, watching you walk to the desk, a flash memory of Theodora’s body slumped there nearly makes the Seneschal say something, but he remains quiet, observing how you trace your fingers over the edge of the table, making your way around it. When you pull the chair aside, he cannot miss the wince in your expression and lurches forward with two steps to help before stopping himself.

“Lord Captain, your injuries need to be looked at.”

“I said I’m fine.” Your response is harsher than you wanted it to be, but the pain that just flashed through your entire body makes you impatient. Carefully you sit down, allowing yourself a smallest sigh of relief to be off your feet, but when your eyes meet Abelard’s, you can already see that the senior officer is not letting go this easily.

Approaching the front of the desk, he hesitates, then comes even closer, skirting the edge of the table while digging into his pants’ pocket.

“If you refuse to see Master Forius, then at least let me look at it-“

“Abelard, I said no!” Because he is approaching fast, you turn in your seat to Abelard quickly and a cry of pain escapes your lips when your side makes your mind blank out for a moment.

“You are clearly in no state to argue. Let me help.” Seneschal’s strong hand pushes your entire chair with you in it so that you can face him, and you look at the man with a grimace of pain.

“Do not touch me!” Rising your voice you know he should obey the order, but whatever has gotten into Abelard, which is most likely worry for your wellbeing, is making him abandon reason and place a small medicae kit on the desk, before leaning over you.

“Let me see, Lord Captain.” He demands with a degree of softness in his request but you scowl, glaring at the man.

“No.”

“Lord Captain-“

“I said no!”

“For the Emperor’s love, Volenta, let me just-!” Abelard loses his patience and grabs the front of your coat in a fist, his eyes furious despite also being laced with worry and you glower for a second longer, thinking of all the ways you could punish him. The seneschal is clearly stepping over any and all boundaries of conduct, but his concern touches something within you, like Xavier’s own comforting hand, and you deflate, grumbling.

“Terra smite you… Fine, you can look.” You huff and puff, when Abelard’s fist releases your clothes, you carefully turn in your seat, making left side of your body more accessible to the Seneschal, and unbutton your coat.

With his help you shrug it off and Abelard spares only a second to drape it over the backrest of your chair, before he walks away for a moment to grab a chair from the desk that the regicide board is on. You watch him, having half a thought to command him to leave again, but decide not to argue, just make a mental note not to let him do this ever again. You’re supposed to be his commander and yet he’s acting like your father. Well, if you knew what having a father is like.

“Turn your head, please.” When seated at last, Abelard opens the medicae kit and with a show of an annoyed sigh you turn your head, letting him brush the hair away from the side of your neck and gently touch around the patch under which the wound throbs. “Feels hot.” The man murmurs and briefly presses the back of his hand to your forehead before gently pulling at your shirt’s collar to see how low the burn runs. “You do not seem to run a fever, which is a good sign, but pain is to be expected after what you went through.”

You sit still, feeling like you’re back in the classroom among other acolytes and don’t even grumble when Abelard opens first few buttons of your blouse, pursuing the path of the burn. The garment slips off your shoulder and you try not to wince because even that hurts.

“Do you have anything for pain?” By the Golden Throne, you can hear your voice tremble, and you swallow dryly. Maybe you’re in a worse shape than you allow yourself to admit.

“I do, please do help yourself, Lord Captain.”

Abelard is gently touching around the neck and shoulder burn while you reach into the medkit and find a vial with several pills. You recognize them and pick out one, tossing it onto your mouth without even bothering to look for water. After you swallow it and cough because of how dry it felt slipping down your throat, you believe this is as worse as it will get, but you are in no such luck.

While you were reaching for the kit, Abelard noticed the lifting of your shirt and the burn on your side. He rises the hem of the black fabric and inhales sharpy, seeing the extent of this particular injury.

“This one does look worse, let me-“ Abelard, so lost in his tending to your physical health, forgets himself and leans closer, lifting the shirt ever higher, craning his neck to see how far this burn extends over your pale skin.

“Wait-“ You try to pull the shirt down, but you’re too late.

“Lord Captain, what is…” The sentence left unfinished trails off in the air like a smoke from a blown out candle when Abelard lifts your blouse ever higher, exposing lower half of your back to him.

“Emperor’s blood.” First officer gasps and you close your eyes, accepting the change of events, then sigh.

“Are you done gawking at me, Abelard? I thought you wanted to help me with my wounds.” Finding composure at last despite the hammering pain, your voice becomes levelled but blank.

“I did, I do! But this… Lady Theodora said nothing of your… Your involvement with the Inquisition.” Do you hear a slight tremble in Abelard’s own voice? You can’t be too sure. Instead you turn, making the edge of the shirt slip out of the man’s fingers and cover the secret that you fully expected to keep as such for much longer than this.

Abelard looks at you, surprise etched in every crease of his expression and his eyes search yours for an explanation. You know what he’s thinking. That you must be some sort of agent or someone associated with the Most Holy Ordos, either past or present. After a moment of weighting your options and the benefits of all of them, you lift the side of your shirt again.

“Proceed.” You mean the wound and Abelard pauses, but then leans in, touching around the patch Forius applied yesterday, examining with a gentle but now reluctant touch.

“Do you mean to explain to me the meaning of your tattoo?” After a moment he asks in half a whisper and you can appreciate that at least the Seneschal is understanding the need for secrecy, the whispers, even if he doesn’t know the truth yet. “Are you…” A pause, his fingers still with their probing, and Abelard cannot bring himself to look at you. “Who are you?”

You listen to the ancient chrono tick in an absolute quiet of the room and briefly close your eyes. With anything that happened so far, you truly didn’t expect such turn of events, but most likely you should’ve, considering that absolutely nobody expected the havoc that Kunrad’s betrayal caused either.

And you need Abelard as an ally. He fought valiantly in battle, his loyalty to the Rogue Trader and whoever has the title is unwavering. Sharing the truth will benefit you and your cause more than trying to hide it.

“I’m a High Interrogator Volenta van Halvek of His Majesty’s Most Holy Inquisition’s Ordo Hereticus.” The title slips off your tongue as easy as honey and it feels like hours pass before Abelard reacts in any way, nodding before resuming his examination. Whatever he is thinking of the reveal – you cannot guess because the man’s face is lowered.

“Are you an actual heir to the von Valancius dynasty or is that too a lie?” This time you are sure you hear a degree of anger and maybe even a hint of hurt pride, but decide to let it slide. Generally, you would punish such disrespect, but you need Abelard on your side, so you suppress your annoyance.

“Mind your words, Abelard. But yes, I am an actual heir. Holy Ordos and the conclave of Koronus Expanse decided it’s for the best if I don’t come in with my rosette swinging. I was to be an heir as any other in Theodora’s retinue.”

“And reporting back, I suppose.” Abelard grumbles and lowers your shirt, noticing some of the burned skin go underneath the waist of your pants. You notice his gaze and raise an eyebrow.

“I’m not taking off my pants.” You say and when Abelard nods, you continue. “And do not worry, I fully aim to take duties of a Rogue Trader seriously. I’m not the first member of the Golden Throne to be in both positions at once.”

“No, you are not, but I want to make clear that prosperity of the von Valancius protectorate has been my duty and calling from the moment I joined Lady Theodora’s retinue.”

“I do not doubt your loyalty nor will I ignore the needs of the dynasty. But I do recommend you keep this between us, Abelard.”

While you are talking, the Seneschal retreats from you, leaving the vial of pills on the desk as he puts away the medkit. At the same time you stand, stuffing the edges of shirt into your pants with less strain, because the medicine has begun to work, and put on your coat. But when you speak last words, a threat of the Inquisition’s wrath laced in every letter, Abelard stops and gives you a long, but serious look, his eyes boring into you with unwavering certainty.

“Of course, Lord Captain. It’s just… an unexpected revelation. But that explains a few things as well.” He takes the chair he was using back to its former place, and returns to your desk, now appropriately standing before it while you consider something for a moment, stuff the vial into your pocket and then walk to him.

“I trust you to be as loyal to me and my leadership as you have been to Lady Theodora’s.”

“Of course, Lord Captain.” Yet the man doesn’t bow his head, now clearly seeing you in a completely different light than he had before, even when leading you to your new chambers.

“Good!” With a smile that catches Abelard slightly off-guard you clasp your hands behind you, enjoying the sensation of pain retreating from your body. “Now let’s go pay a visit to High Factotum.”

During the short lift travel and equally short walk to where Janris is talking to a Bridge enforcer, you wonder what Abelard is thinking, but from his completely composed expression you cannot really tell. You can take a guess and most likely an accurate one. That the Seneschal is rethinking everything he thought he knew about you, that he thinks about what these news mean for the future, for him, for the dynasty that he served for so many decades.

“Lord Captain, pleased to see you, what can I help you with? Master Werserian.” Janris’ smile in his wide face seems a genuine one after he quickly dismisses the enforcer to greet you and Abelard.

“I want the painting in my study to be replaced with one of my own. Find a painter after you remove the old portrait.” You begin and Janris quickly takes out a dataslate, tapping at it.

“It will be done. And I think we have one surviving painter, I will send her to your chambers immediately. Anything else?”

You pause, thinking, returning to the Lord Captain’s chambers in your minds eye, and then remember the musical organ.

“What kind of records are stored with my personal musical organ?” You ask, feeling Abelard’s inquisitive look on the side of your face.

“Odes to the Emperor and to our brave troops, Your Ladyship. Do you want those changed?”

“No, keep them, but I also want Inquisitorial odes added as well, as many as you can find.”

“It will be done, my Lady.” High Factotum taps at the dataslate and Abelard leans to your side.

“Don’t you think that’s a little bit too on the nose, Lord Captain?” He whispers and you are unable, and choose not to, hide the mischievous hint in your smile.

“Just wait till you hear how I will be renaming the flagship now that it is rightfully mine.” You whisper back and when Jaris rises his eyes to you, curious for any further orders, you exhale, experiencing lightness for the first time since your arrival.

Feeling like you are where you are supposed to be, you smile. “Nothing else, Janris.” And after the man scurries away in a hurry that his hefty bulk allows him, you look at Abelard. “Now, show me the way to the Astropath Choir.”

[raayllum]

Do you have any favourite underrated Rayllum moments (either in the show or in the novels, graphic novels etc) ??

Oh so many!! I was a S1 shipper as well so I've always had the goggles on, which will undoubtedly influence this list (we're talking the littlest of the little moments) - novel quotes are in quotations

Callum glancing back to look at her in 1x03 when she stays behind to battle the smoke wolves

His happy little face when she's 'faced her fears' in 1x05 after they go down the waterfall

Literally every scene between them in 1x06 (which along with 1x05 and 1x04 are the Foundational Rayllum Eps, to me) + bonus shout out to Rayla winking at him twice while she's stretching

Callum admitting to her face that he was so distracted by her / thinking about her that he forgot the food they needed to live

Rayla teasing him in 1x07 just as an excuse to get all up in his space (like seriously, she's not nearly as touchy-feely with Ezran by any means)

"Everyone else started up the mountain, but Callum lingered. 'Are you okay?'"

"And for some reason, she found she wanted to share what she'd seen with Callum, even if she didn't tell anyone else."

"Rayla was now one of the best friends Callum had ever had."

The way Callum trails off for a split second with "She's more like a..." in 2x02 cause he isn't sure what to say / is considering it for probably the first time

Rayla not only admitting that she's scared of hurting him (at all) but that she's scared of hurting him to another Moonshadow elf, even though Moonshadow elves aren't supposed to show fear, ever

Callum being like "yeah we'll walk around an Entire Sea for you" and not caring at all about how long it'd take, only for 5 minutes later when they're going with the boat plan to be like "getting somewhere faster matters!!" like you love Rayla so much it makes you look stupid

Rayla taking his bag from him in 2x04

Rayla briefly cradling the back of his head as she lays him down in 2x08

How Callum stares at her and just her as she leads him into the canyon in 2x09, only looking around at their surroundings instead of at her when she indicates for him too

Callum forgetting that Sol Regem, the giant dragon actively trying to kill them, is even there because he's so focused on trying to get to Rayla after she's caught in the rockslide in 3x01

The teasing/admiring looks they exchange over the whole fart flower thing. They're best friends <33

The little smile she gives him in 3x05 after she's helped pull him up the ambler

The tiny smile they hold and exchange in 3x07 after their mock flirting as they continue walking up the Storm Spire

Eating from the same plate and wearing matching jammies / sharing room(s) in Through the Moon

That one panel where they're walking to see Allen and Callum's eyes are closed while he happily talks about something and Rayla's smiling and listening? Lives rent fucking free in my head. Encapsulates everything I imagine for post-war/everything Rayllum. 10/10, one of the panels of All Time, to me

Callum touching his arm once she lets go during their reunion in 4x03, boy was down bad immediately

Callum leaning over in between shots (in the background) like his life fucking depends on it to see if Rayla is going to come along on their trip with Ezran or not in early 4x04

Callum's face falling in 4x05 when they're talking on the Pinnacle only when Rayla says "Last time I was here, I leapt to my certain death"

All their little glances (particularly in 4x05 and 4x06) in S4 - mad or talking or not, they're still each other's person and slip right back into their old routines

Rayla looking to him silently for reassurance in 4x06 and the way Callum nods and gives it to her automatically. It's so sweet <33

How much Rayla plays with her hair around him in 4x07 like girl please

How consistently smiley Callum is in 5x01 despite the fact nothing's really gone right for them because Rayla is back and he's fully letting himself be happy about it for the first time, it's such day-and-night to how he is in S4

Callum having drawn Stella in his sketchbook at some point before 5x02 is so cute to me

The way Callum watches her hands and gestures in 5x04 so attentively when she's starting to open up

Rayla holding and handing his staff and bag to him as they're leaving the Bookery in 5x04

All of Rayla tending to him and helping him in 5x07, her hand braced along his back and/or on his shoulder

Him being a massive fucking loser and stumbling over in 5x09 so unsteadily bc he just Has to hold her hand like sir. s i r

[permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88]

The Wanderer * Halbrand (Sauron)/OC (part 5)

Summary: In spite of her mother's wishes, Tilda wanted to see the world beyond their village. She wanted to know its secrets, and to find her father as well. But when orcs attack, she will soon be swept off on an adventure far different than the one she imagined. And it will lead her not only to unanticipated discoveries about her heritage, but about her own heart, as well.

Warnings: original female character, multi-OC fic, angst, potential for toxic relationship, unrequited love

Other: Please let me know if you'd like to be added to a tag list!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

(The Southlands)

"Bain. Help me to lift him."

Tearing his gaze away from the destruction around him, Bain moves towards the woman making the request, every muscle tense as though on alert for another attack. In truth, he almost wishes that there would be another, if for no other reason than to avenge those they had lost. Those they had been forced to leave behind in their flight to safety, short-lived though it may be.

He would give anything to end every last one of the orcs that had shown no mercy in their slaughter of those he had known almost his entire life. Anything at all, including his own life. But of course, as he truly ought to have expected, the woman addressing him now seems quite capable of reading that thought in his mind as easily as if he had spoken the words aloud.

"Vengeance will not save us now."

"So you would have us continue to flee?"

"I would have us survive," The woman persists, shifting as Bain moves to help the man between them to his feet, one of his arms hanging limply around each of their shoulders, "You should wish for that as well."

"And what of your daughter? Would you leave her behind to achieve your goal?"

The words are harshly spoken, escaping before Bain can even consider halting them, and he watches as the woman seems to stiffen, even if only for a moment, before her features settle back to the grim determination of mere moments before. Almost immediately, he is aware of his misstep, the rash anger that was burning through his veins having forced him to speak without conscious thought.

Hoping to take back the words, or at least to offer an apology, Bain opens his mouth to speak once more, but before he has a chance, the woman standing opposite the man held tightly between them takes the chance from his grasp.

"My daughter's fate is no longer a thing that I may control."

"You believe she still lives, then."

"I believe that I would sense it if she did not."

Uncertain if he can truly take the response as reassurance, Bain simply offers his companion a nod, joining her in guiding the man between them along the path that the few stragglers from the village had chosen to make their escape. In truth, he admits to hoping her suspicion is correct. That somehow, the young woman who had been as a sister to him for as long as he can remember did, in fact, make it out of the village alive. That she was not one of the many dead littering familiar walkways he would likely never set eyes upon, again.

For a moment, the anger that still simmers in his chest flares to life once more at the thought of his friend falling into enemy hands, his jaw clenching to keep at least a portion of that anger at bay. He inhales sharply, in an effort to refrain from allowing even a hint of that anger to show itself upon his face.

As much as the fate of his friend troubles him, he knows that it must be ten times as bad for her mother. For Freida. A woman who had treated him with far more kindness than his own mother ever had. And even if a part of him may not wish to, Bain resolves to do what he can to waylay his own desire for revenge, if for no other reason than to be sure that he is not the reason the woman's troubles worsen.

Instead, as he continues to aid her in escorting their wounded companion, his thoughts turn inward. To the last time he had seen Tilda before their defeat. She had been holding her own, or trying to, by the looks of things. Or at least, she had been, until he caught her looking his way, her eyes blown wide when she took note of the opponent he faced. The elf that bore scars upon his face, who seemed to hold the orcs under his command.

That had been the last he had seen of her, his preoccupation with his own skirmish soon requiring the full force of his attention. Even then, the elf had been able to easily outmaneuver him, and were it not for another stepping in when he had been knocked to the ground, Bain knew he might not still be standing.

By the time he had summoned the wherewithal to glance back at where Tilda had been standing, she was gone. The elf had turned from him, to face a new opponent, and then Freida had appeared to drag him off into the woods at a breakneck speed.

He can recall the look upon her face as she had done so. Something not all that far from panic had filled her eyes as she cast furtive glances over her shoulder to ensure the elf had never taken notice of their flight, as though fearing he might follow. And although it is no strange thing to fear pursuit from an enemy in the midst of a battle, Bain catches himself beginning to realize that there had been something else. Some hint of recognition in Freida's eyes, as well.

There had been no other way to describe it save for she looked as though she had just seen a ghost.

"Did you know him?" He asks suddenly, the renewed tension in Freida's expression already providing him an answer, whether she willed it to be so, or not, "You did, didn't you?"

"I have given no reason for anyone to believe in such a thing."

"Who is he?"

"You would do well to focus on the present, Bain, and not on false suspicions," Freida warns, her attention remaining upon the path ahead of them, regardless of the slight tightening of her jaw that gives her away, "There are other things at hand that are far more important."

"It is a simple question."

"And it is one that does not need answering."

Though her deflection hardly serves to dissuade him, Bain is not quite so foolish as to press the matter further, one final glance her way proving that the decision had been a wise one all along. Freida's expression has turned stony, and amusement reaches Bain, for a moment, as he the image provokes a memory of the numerous times, over the years, where he and Tilda would find a spot or three of trouble, their attempts at talking their way out of it thwarted time and time again by the woman at his side.

It is his respect for that woman that keeps him silent, though curiosity burns almost as brightly as his former rage. And when she finally speaks again, this time, he does not think to question her at all.

"If we are to have any hope of reaching safety, we must continue moving through the night."

"Where—where are we to go?"

The question comes from the man who had, as yet, kept his silence between them, and Bain would be a liar to pretend he had not wondered the same. For a moment, Freida's continued silence almost has him wondering if she were even aware of the answer, herself.

Before he can ponder that particular reality any further, however, she is shifting. Adjusting their companion's weight so that it is more evenly distributed between them, while the man utters a muted groan in response.

A shadow passes across her face as they navigate their way beneath a rather dense collection of trees, but even without catching a glimpse at her expression, Bain would have been a fool to pretend he did not sense the resignation that is so apparent in her reply.

"Tirharad. They must be warned of what is coming, and with any luck, together, we may stand a chance against it."

(The Sundering Seas)

Standing on the raft, her gaze all but glued to the elf as she, in turn, regards her newfound companions warily, Tilda can almost forget that mere moments ago she had been nearly despondent with grief.

Though she'd had the opportunity to come into contact with more than a few of their race, given the near constant watch kept over villages like her own through the years, something about this particular encounter felt—different. More momentous. At least a hundred questions begin to flood her mind, all of them surrounding what could have possibly happened to land the elf here, on their raft.

She would be a liar to pretend she did not want to ask those questions. That she did not find herself suddenly possessed with a desire to know the answers for them all. But something about the way the elf keeps a wary eye upon the rest of them standing at odd intervals on board the raft binds her tongue and helps her to keep her silence.

It is as though she can sense that the elf would not welcome such questions. Not in the present company, at the very least.

A fact that is all but confirmed when the silence holding them all captive is broken once again.

"Why are you out here?"

"I was separated from my ship," The elf replies, a certain degree of deliberately placed distance resting behind the words despite her current position, seemingly at the mercy of those who have gathered more closely around her. It is a distance that Tilda can understand, of course, given the elf has no reason to trust a single one of them, whether or not they have come to her aid.

Again, the elf's gaze meets her own, as though she is somehow capable of sensing the line of her thoughts. Tilda finds herself lifting an eyebrow in response. But before she can make any move to address the elf on her own, she finds the attempt thwarted, this time by Astrid's inquiry, spoken so softly it is almost impossible to hear.

"Attacked?"

A single shake of the head is the elf's only response, though that hardly seems to satisfy Eamon, if the sour look that crosses his features is any indication at all. And even if the elf seems to sense his displeasure, she holds firm against it, her own expression hardly changing even as he steps closer to question her still further.

"Then you've not seen it?"

"Seen what?"

"The worm."

The elf does not show any sort of recognition in response to the words, her continued silence providing more of an answer than words ever could. The questions that Tilda had wanted to ask only seem to grow more insistent as a result.

Unable to shake the desire, Tilda bites down on the inside of her cheek, somehow knowing that speaking now would hardly earn her any favors. A reality that is only confirmed by Eamon's harsh words as soon as Astrid attempts filling the silence, herself.

"We set out two weeks ago, sailing—"

"Need we tell her all our affairs?"

"Does she look dangerous to you?"

"Looks can be deceiving."

With a start, Tilda turns her attention away from the elf in response to the sharply spoken words, her preoccupation with the newcomer, and the reasons for her presence on board their raft having rendered her blind to the presence of the one who now stands beside her. Expression unreadable, Halbrand spares her only a passing glance, his attention almost every bit as attuned to the elf as Tilda's had been, mere moments before.

For a moment, she allows distraction to persuade her in attempting to decipher his expression. To try and riddle out what it might mean. But before she can make any headway, her focus is disrupted once again, this time by the sound of two indignant exclamations.

"An elf!"

"Remove your hand from me, sir."

"You liar—"

"Astrid, wait," Tilda protests, unsure of exactly what it is that prompts her to suddenly find her voice in light of her companion's hiss that is clearly directed towards the elf, although she is hardly any less determined to use it, regardless, "She is hardly a threat, you just said so, yourself—"

"Or perhaps you are simply too trusting."

"Too trusting."

"Exactly as your mother feared," Astrid confirms, whatever frustration she felt towards the elf now directed Tilda's way, such that the younger woman manages a step or two backward in open surprise. Hardly aware that her shoulder has brushed against Halbrand's, Tilda spends a moment in silent surprise. She tries to ignore the small flare of pain that comes about as a result of the other woman's words.

Unable to come up with any sort of reply, she keeps her silence, a small part of her wondering if every person on board the raft knew of her mother's views of her. If all of them knew how much the woman apparently doubted her.

The thought is enough to sting against Tilda's pride, but before she can manage to decide what, if anything, she is to do about such a thing, a shout diverts her attention back to the present once more, her gaze snapping toward its source, and then the reason for its existence in little to no time at all.

"We're saved! We're saved, look!"

A great, hulking shape looms forward out of the fog that surrounds them. A shape that seems to bear what can be nothing other than—sails? Wooden beams? Brow furrowing, Tilda steps just a fraction closer, heedless of the low hiss of warning that comes from the man still standing at her side.

"Hurry! Look! Over here!"

"Wait! Until we can see the sails," Eamon cautions, stepping forward himself to peer at the object growing ever larger in the distance, "Corsairs prowl these waters. Do you want to be skinned alive?"

"That is no corsair ship."

"That's—our ship."

"The worm!"

As the shape draws closer, Tilda recognizes Eamon's words to be true, her heart seeming to drop into her stomach as she remains standing, rooted in place. Panic takes hold, freezing the blood in her veins, and rendering her powerless to decide how best to proceed.

The worm continues on its path towards their raft, the shouts of her companions fading into the background as Tilda continues to stare straight ahead. Time seems to slow, though somewhere in the far reaches of her mind, she knows this cannot possibly be true.

It is not until she catches sight of movement from the corner of her eye that she is jolted into some manner of awareness of what transpires around her, aside from the worm's relentless approach, and by the time Tilda darts forward to stop Astrid from her sudden decision to shove the elf overboard into the churning waters beneath them, it is entirely too late.

"The elf led it right to us!"

"You cannot possibly believe that!"

Whatever the older woman may or may not believe is never confirmed, regardless of what Tilda may have desired, the raft rocking amongst the waves as the worm dives beneath them. She very nearly loses her footing, knocking against Halbrand as the bits of their former ship still attached to the worm jar against the bottom of their raft.

Instinctively, she casts her gaze around for any sign of the elf, only just managing to take note of the faintest glimmer of golden hair rising above the waves a mere few feet away. But just as she is preparing to move forward in an effort to bring the elf back aboard, the worm turns. It adjusts its course, unseen by her, to head back toward the raft.

Tilda stumbles as the creature bumps against the wooden boards beneath her feet once more, but still maintains her footing, jaw clenched in determination as she manages one more step forward. From the corner of her eye, she sees it disappear completely beneath the waves.

Heedless of the cries of the others as they scramble to begin moving the raft away from this attack, Tilda nearly reaches its edge. Her eyes lock with the elf's, the latter's clearly holding some surprise that she would feel any need to pull her back to safety at all. And then it happens. The worm launches upward, straight toward the raft's center. Sharp screams and the sound of splintering wooden beams rend the air.

Hand outstretched toward the elf, Tilda soon finds the act thwarted as the worm's momentum knocks her sideways. She lands on her side against the boards with a painful thud that drives the breath from her lungs, before they seem to crumble beneath her weight. Desperation crawls through her frame as she claws at those boards, frantically trying to get back to the portion of the raft that is still intact, but it is all in vain. She is thrown off the raft as easily as the wind might toss about a stray leaf.

Her scream dies out almost as quickly as it came into being as she is submerged beneath relentless waves, her body buffeted this way and that until she finally manages to come to a stop, and then she sees it. A horror that has another scream upon her lips, her mouth opening on instinct, and filling her lungs with seawater as a result of what is now resting very apparent before her eyes.

It is the worm, turning once again towards the wreckage of their raft, a sound that shakes her to her very core vibrating beneath the waves as it bears down upon her, with jaws and gnarled teeth bared.

Effectively stranded on a smaller raft than the one they had inhabited, before, having lost most of their companions, including the girl who had been so very determined to behave with reckless abandon despite his best efforts, and now left with an elf who insists upon trying to spur him to the very same conflict he sought to avoid, Halbrand wonders if it might not have been better if he had never boarded the ship that had taken them from the village at all.

It certainly had not gotten him very far, all things considered, the thought of finding refuge and a new life across the sea having rather quickly faded to nothing more than ash. Everything that had happened after that only seemed to fly directly in the face of his goals. And with the elf—Galadriel—so determined to hound him to join in her cause, it is becoming nearly impossible to resist the urge to shove her back over the side as Astrid had, what feels like ages ago.

Nearly impossible, of course, save for the reality of how the elf might fit into his own plans.

As much as her dogged pursuit of her goals ate away at his resolve, Halbrand knew that the enemy he had been seeking appeared to be her own, as well. That the means of reaching that enemy through Tilda that he had believed to be lost after the girl's untimely disappearance beneath the waves might not be as far from his grasp as he had feared.

The allure of achieving his desires through one who had seemed only too willing to trust him—to do whatever it might take to guarantee his aid in a matter she believed that she had controlled—might be lost to him now, but that did not mean all hope had been abandoned.

Not even if the hope of inflicting even a measure of the pain upon his enemy as that enemy had inflicted upon him might need to remain unseen.

As easily as he had won Tilda's trust, it is readily apparent that winning Galadriel's will be far different. More difficult, even with her desires laid bare for anyone with eyes to see. It occurs to him that continuing to resist her may, in fact, be the smartest course, despite how it seems to move contrary to his desires. And by the time the elf is speaking once more, Halbrand's decision has been made.

"Over there."

Curious, to say the least, over whatever it may be that has inspired what almost seems like awe in the elf's tone, Halbrand turns to follow the direction of her gaze. He takes note of the bedraggled looking form floating towards them. Clinging to a remnant of their former raft, drenched to the bone, but otherwise, very much alive.

Were he not in control of his every reaction, it might have been difficult to avoid a laugh, the tenacity of this one girl proving far more amusing than it truly ought to be, and again, he is forced to consider the potential of her usefulness. The myriad of ways in which both she, and the elf, might help him achieve his own ends. And even as he stoops to aid her in dragging her sodden form onto the boards beneath his feet, the desperate strength in her grip upon his arm startling him, to say the least, he knows.

As soon as she takes note of Galadriel's next words, Tilda's own determination to find his enemy will only grow.

"I need to know how many the enemy were, under whose banner they marched, and then you are going to take me to their last known location."

"I've got my own plans, elf."

"If he will not help you, then I shall."

Again, Galadriel looks upon the girl with something not all that far from awe, perhaps mingled with a certain sense of doubt that Tilda would be even remotely capable of offering her any sort of aid at all. For a moment, she seems to bear a curious sort of reluctance, as though unwilling to risk potentially casting the girl's life aside to achieve her own ends. But before the elf can make any attempt at either accepting the offer just made, or denying it outright, the distant rumble of thunder reaches them from across the waves. As one, their attention turns as lightning cracks across the rapidly darkening sky.

As she scrambles to her feet, Halbrand becomes aware of the sensation of Tilda's arm brushing against his own while she stands beside him, apprehension seeming to vibrate through her smaller frame at the prospect of what they face now. The two of them share a glance, and he can read her fear plainly upon her face.

Making no move to address that fear, his attention instead turns back to the elf, her shoulders squared as she appears ready to face the storm ahead with as much stubborn force of will as she would use to hunt down her enemy. His enemy. And when next she speaks, Halbrand soon comes to realize that he is not at all surprised by the words that breach the space between them.

"Prepare yourselves."

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 27

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. You do NOT have to read the other fics in the series to understand this one)

Warnings: some profanity, mentions of blood, bruises, physical injuries

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @thebejeweledwatercat @fanficanatic-tw @munstysmind @themaradwrites @asirensrage @kmc1989 @karimac @ninjasawakenedmystar @theesirenteller @residentdormouse @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @occommunity @alisbackalleybbq

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/134993251

My tag list is OPEN. Just let me know if you'd like to be added :)

****

When she wakes, it’s to the glow of the bedside monitor and the ribbons of moonlight that stream into the room. As the waves of the Tyrrhenian Sea vigorously lap at the base of the cliffs, a steady, crisp breeze flows through the open window; fluttering the curtains as the scent of salt fills the room.

She’s confused and disoriented. Days spent drifting out of consciousness; never fully aware of her surroundings, the identities of the people tending to her, or the validity of the conversations she partook in. Kept on high and frequent doses of medication as her body began the healing process; wanting to spare her the overwhelming stress that the intense and constant pain would inflict upon her. It takes several minutes for her surroundings to register; the disjointed and muddled mess of thoughts causing her head to swim as the room spins around her. Her mouth and throat are impossibly dry; finding it painful to swallow, her cracked and peeling lips burning when she dares to run the tip of her tongue along them. Her limbs feel impossibly heavy and rooted to the mattress below; the accompanying pain dull, yet manageable. A far cry from the agony she’d experienced after the accident; the memories of that afternoon returning slowly yet terrifying vividly.

“Tyler?” Her voice is barely above a whisper. Initially believing she’s speaking to an empty room, she gives a small start when she hears movement at the side of the bed. Then manages both a sigh of relief and a small smile as he drops his cell phone onto the mattress and slides his chair closer.

“Hey…”

The smile reaches his eyes, crinkling the corners. The first time she’d ever seen it, it had taken her breath away; the way the years seemed to drop away from his face and off his shoulders. Only to be replaced by a softness and a beauty not expected from a man like him. Weary and laden with unspeakable burdens; the traumas he’d endured for most of his life, the things he’d seen and done during his tours of duty with the military, the lives he’d taken during his time as a mercenary. And while others had deemed him reckless and dangerous, he’d been the only person who’d ever made her feel safe. Secure. Protected.

He briefly stands, leaning over the bed and running a hand over her hair. Hooking a finger under her chin, he gently tilts her face towards him; his lips gracing hers with the most delicate of kisses. “...sleeping beauty awakes.”

“I appreciate you trying to feed my ego, but I already know I’m a mess. And not a hot one, either.”

“You’re still here. Alive and on the mend. Can’t get much more beautiful than that.”

“Jesus, you really ARE the most biased man on the planet.”

“Biased or not, it’s true.” Pulling the chair as close as he can to the edge of the bed, he sits once more. A palm resting on the top of her head as his thumb repeatedly brushes against her brow and his free hand holds one of hers. How ya feelin’?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Better, I guess? Considering how I felt when it first happened…” She gingerly reaches across her body; careful to not upset the various tubes and wires and the IV needle that pierces the top of her hand. Allowing her fingertips to gently explore the various cuts and bruises that mar his face and neck. “Are you okay?”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Excuse me? Have we met? I worry. It’s what I do. You should know that by now.”

“Of all the times you should be ignoring what I look like and what I’m doing.…”

“That’s impossible. I’ll never stop worrying about you; no matter what’s going on with me. I spent five years worrying; wondering how you were doing and if you were staying safe, and just hoping and praying you’d be alright. Every time Nik would tell me about a job you’d take…”

“You know, you could have cut out the middleman and just talked to me.”

“I wanted to, so many times. Do you know how many text messages I erased instead of sending them? How many times I’d call and get your voicemail, then just hang up without leaving anything? More than I like to admit.”

“I used to call your cell,” he sheepishly admits. “ The one you left behind. Just to listen to your outgoing message. Hear your voice.”

“Did it make you feel better?”

“Sometimes. And sometimes it made me mad as hell.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I am so sorry. And I know it seems like I’m constantly saying that, but…”

“Let’s not talk about it right now, okay? If there was ever a time NOT to…”

“What better time could there be? Not much else I can do.”

“It’s not important right now. We’ll get lots of time later. Believe me. When all this is over, and we’re finally home and settled, we can deal with everything else. But right now…” Cupping her cheek in his palm, the pad of his thumb tenderly glides over one of the many bruises that grace her skin. “...let’s just concentrate on you. Getting you better. And home.”

“That’s all I want. To go home. I mean, not that it actually IS my home. It’s not like I’ve ever lived there. I didn’t…”

“It is, though. Your home. OUR home. It’s the one we bought together. Made all kinds of plans for. The last five years didn’t just erase all of that.”

“But I never actually lived there. Other than when we first looked at it with the realtor, I’ve never even stepped through the front door.”

“That doesn’t matter. At least not to me. It’s always been your home, Me. It’s always been the place where you belong.”

Tears glisten in her eyes. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like THIS. The way you are with me. The way you’ve always been. Why do you love me like you do?”

“Do I need to have a reason?”

“After everything I’ve done, after hurting you like I did, you still love me. Way more than anyone else ever has. Or could. Why?”

“Because I do. Isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t deserve it. Not after…”

“That’s just your guilt talking.”

“I have a reason to be guilty. Everything I did to you..”

“Esme, I love you. I have ALWAYS loved you. And I always held out hope that one day you’d just walk back into my life. I only wish it had been a little sooner.”

“If I only called you sooner. Not waited so long. If I’d just…”

“But you didn’t. And you can’t change that. You can’t go back and make different choices. And you know what, that’s going to suck for a long time. Believe me, I know. There are a couple of things I wish I could go back and change. Have a re-do.”

“When it comes to us? To me?”

“The only thing I’d change is that I’d stay home that day; instead of going to Broome with Koen. And I should have. Stayed with you. You were sick, and you needed me and I..”

“I thought it was stress. Or that I’d come down with something. I wasn’t bedridden. I didn’t need you to wait on me and food and baby me. I…”

“I should have stayed. It’s the one time I didn’t listen to my gut. And look what happened.”

“You being there wouldn’t have changed things. The adjudicator still would have shown up. If anything, your being there would have made things worse. I know what you’re like, Tyler. When it comes to me. How protective you are. How you wouldn’t think twice about hurting someone…even killing them…when it comes to me. That wouldn’t have ended well. If you’d laid hands on them.”

“Maybe not. But we could have gone through it together. Found a place to hide out while Nik dealt with everything. You leaving? That wasn’t the only option.”

“I was scared. I wanted to protect you. Everything I did that day, I did for you- to keep you safe. I never did any of it to hurt you.”

“I know that. And I’m starting to accept it. You just need to give me some time, yeah? To deal with all of it? Work through it? I need that from you. Time.”

“As long as you don’t want to go through it alone. As long as it means that it’s the three of us dealing with it all together. Me, you, Millie. That’s what you want, right? The three of us sticking together?”

“I wouldn’t think of NOT doing it that way. I’m not going anywhere- not now, not ever. You need to trust me when I tell you that.”

“I do trust you. I’ve always trusted you. You’re the only person I really DO trust. To this extent, anyway.”

“Then trust me when I tell you that we don’t need to be dealing with this right now. We’re going to have lots of time to talk about things. Work through them. But right now? Right now needs to be about you. And getting you back on your feet and finally home. That’s all that matters. Can we agree? To just focus on that?”

Esme nods.

Giving her a wink, he leans in to press a kiss to her brow)

Her fingertips continue the investigation of his face and neck; tracing over healing cuts and thriving bruises. “I think you’re going to have a few new scars. To add to your collection. Nothing major, but…”

“Wouldn’t be one of my jobs if I didn’t get a little fucked up.”

“You do have a bad habit of messing yourself up, that’s for sure. Why it has to be the face, I’ll never know. Of all things? The face? Really?”

“I appreciate your concern for the rest of my body,” he teases. “And my mental health.”

“This one will always be my favourite.” She runs a fingertip over the scar that curves over the bridge of his nose. “Always.”

“How ARE you feeling? And don’t bullshit me.”

“I feel fine. Well, I don’t know if ‘fine’ is the right word, but I know I feel a lot better than I did…” She frowns, her voice trailing off.

“What? What’s wrong? What…?”

“How many days HAS it been? Since we left New York? What day is it today?”

“It’s Friday.”

“What? Friday? Are you sure?”

“I’m fully aware of what day it is.”

“But we left on Monday. How can it already be Friday? I’ve been out that long? What…?”

“You’ve been on some really strong meds. Heavy-duty stuff. You’ve been in and out. Never fully conscious, though. The doctor thought it was for the best; let your body heal without trying to fight back against the pain.”

“Did you think it was for the best?”

“I wouldn’t have told him to go ahead with it if I didn’t. I didn’t want you in constant pain. I know what it’s like; to always be in agony. I didn’t want that for you. Of all people who don’t deserve that…”

“Thank you. For taking care of me. Fighting for me.”

“It’s what we do, yeah? Take care of each other? Isn’t that what you always say?”

She nods.

“It was my turn anyway. Considering everything you had to do? After Dhaka?”

“I didn’t HAVE to do it. I wanted to do it.”

“Just like I want to take care of you. No more running. I’m not that guy anymore. I haven’t been him in a long time.”

“I’ve never known that Tyler. I’ve only ever known that one who will do anything and everything he has to protect me. THAT’S the Tyler I know. The one I fell in love with.”

He presses a kiss to her temple. “I do have a bone to pick with you, though.”

“Uh-oh.”

“You scared the fucking shit out of me. Seeing you like that. After the accident.”

“It wasn’t intentional. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Just don’t do it again, yeah? I’m not getting any younger. My heart can only take so much.”

“Noted. I’ll be on my best behaviour from here on out. You know what the good thing is? That once this is all over and we’re finally settled, we won’t have to worry about this kind of thing anymore. Let alone go through it. It’ll all be behind us. No more stressing over whether or not the last time you walk out the front door really IS the last time.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re kinda walking away from danger and right into another. You do realize you’re gonna be married to a firefighter, right?”

“As scary and as dangerous as that is, I will take it over you being a mercenary any day of the week. Not to take away from your skills or your talent. Because you’re amazing at what you do. But…”

“It’s time. For something new. Something normal.”

“Whatever ‘normal’ is when it comes to us. We’ve never really been ‘normal’.”

“Our own brand of normal, I guess. We weren’t meant to be like everyone else. And who wants to be? That’s boring as hell.”

“I’m okay with whatever brand of normal we come up with.”

“Speaking of being okay, you never really answered my question. About how you’re feeling.”

“I feel kinda weird, to be honest. The last thing I really remember is being with Nik and Yaz. On our way to the airport. When you gave me that morphine. Everything after that is a complete blur. Just the mashup of moments and words and sounds. I know that doesn’t make sense.”

“I remember feeling like that. After waking up from that coma. So it makes total sense to me. Have any pain?”

“A little. Nothing serious, though.”

“They almost weaned you completely off the IV meds. They’ll want to start you on oral stuff in the morning. They don’t want you hooked up to anything once you go home. Think you can manage that? Getting rid of all those tubes and wires?”

“I can definitely manage that.”

“Do you need anything? Something to drink? Eat?”

“I AM thirsty. And I definitely could eat. Honestly, I feel like I could eat the shit out of a dead hippo, right about now.”

He chuckles. “Now I know where she got it from. Millie said the same thing the other day. When she woke up and wanted breakfast.”

“Well, there is at least a little bit of me inside of her. A few of my genes. She can’t be EXACTLY like you.”

“She’s like me in all the best ways, though.”

“She’s beautiful, like you. That’s for sure.”

“You just had to go and insult me. Call me the ‘b’ word.”

“Regardless of what you think, you can be both badass AND beautiful. You check both boxes. Among many others.”

“You are so good for my ego.” Cradling her bruised cheek in his palms, he places a long, soft kiss on her lips. “I’ll go downstairs and see what I can round up. You feel like anything in particular or…?”

“Cheese toast.”

“I can’t believe you still eat that stuff,” he chides. “Thought you would have grown out of that by now.”

“It’s my favourite comfort food. That, and your lasagna. Remember how I’d always ask you to make that? If I wasn’t feeling well or I was just having a really shitty day? And you always did it. No questions asked. No bitching or moaning about it.”

“I liked making you happy. I still do. Besides, if Esme wasn’t having a good day, no one was.”

“I always felt I’d found the proverbial needle in the haystack. A guy that can fuck well, fix his own truck, AND cook? Nothing sexier than that combo.”

“You know, when it comes to men, your standards are very low.”

“Well, I mean, there’s a lot of things that are sexy about you. I have a very extensive list.”

“Like I said, you’re really good at stroking my ego. Among other things.”

(laughs, then winces when it causes pain and discomfort in her ribs)

“You just relax, okay? I’ll go and make you something to eat. Bring you some tea. It’ll do some good to get some food into you.”

He stands and leans over the bed; index finger once more hooking under her chin and tilting her head back in order to kiss her. Skimming his knuckles over her bruised cheek, she grabs his hand when he attempts to step away from the bed; squeezing tightly as he glances down at her. Scowling at the look of fear and worry that lines her brow and creases the corners of her eyes.

“You’re coming back, right?”

“I mean unless something happens to me on the way to the kitchen or on my way back here…”

“Promise me. That you’re coming back.”

“I’m coming back.” He chooses to assure as opposed to scolding her for thinking so irrationally. “I already told you, Me. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

****

He returns with a tray laden with food and a small pot of tea; discovering that she’s managed to sit herself up in bed and now leans back against a selection of pillows stacked behind her. In spite of the bruises that decorate her face and various parts of her body, her colour has started to return; days spent a sickly, almost deathly gray, her skin impossibly dry. She’s starting to look like Esme again; able to smile, the sparkle back in her eyes, her sunken cheeks beginning to fill out. Clarity and understanding quickly restored; now fully conscious and aware of her surroundings. It’s a relief to see her like this; knowing the extent of her injuries and how close things had come to being so much worse. And when she beams at him as approaches the bed, it helps the last of his fears and worries subside.

“I see you made it back safe and sound. No one tried to kidnap you.”

“I was jumped in the hallway. Fought them off. Told them they may be mean and tough, but they don’t come close to you when you’re hangry.”

“I am not THAT bad.”

“I’ve lived with you. You ARE that bad.

“Got ya a little bit of everything.” Placing the tray across her lap, he takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. “Cheese toast, some apple sauce, some pasta that was left over from dinner, some tea.”

“I know I said I was hungry, and I really do appreciate you wanting to wait on me hand and foot, but…”

“You don’t have to eat it all. Just a bit of each. Do what you can.”

As she attempts to eat, he tends to the tea. Filling the waiting mug and adding a splash of milk, he keeps a quiet, watchful eye on her as she attempts to eat; her hands furiously trembling, making it impossible to even lift the food, never mind get it to her mouth. Instead of immediately jumping to her aid, he allows her to keep trying; knowing the enormity of both her stubbornness and her hatred for being too ‘dependent’ on another person. And it isn’t until she mutters profanities and begins to tear up that he finally steps in; sliding closer to her just as her lower lip and chin begin to tremble.

“Here…” Cupping a hand under her chin, uses the other to bring a slice of cheese toast to her lips. “...let’s make it easier on you.”

“You shouldn’t have to do this.”

“No one HAS to do anything. I’m doing it ‘cause I want to.”

“It’s embarrassing. I’m a grown-ass adult. I shouldn’t need someone to feed me.”

“Did you think that way when you were doing it for me? After Dhaka? That I was a grown man and should be able to do it myself?”

“You almost died. You were in a coma for seven months. You needed my help.”

“And you’ve gotten yourself fucked up pretty good, and you need my help.”

“It’s not the same thing. It’s…”

“It’s a two-way street, yeah? We already agreed on that. You take care of me, I take care of you.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts’. Just shut up and eat your cheese toast.”

He’s patient, and his voice is gentle, allowing her to take small bites and chew slowly, offering encouragement and praising her on both her efforts and success. Using soft fingertips to clear crumbs and cheese away from the corners of her mouth, then moved on to the applesauce; alternating between slipping the spoon between her lips and offering sips of tea. And he’s genuinely impressed when she makes it through more than half the pot and a couple of mouthfuls of pasta before tapping out.

Helping her get settled and comfortable against the pillows, he moves the tray to the dresser and disappears into the master bath. Returning moments later with a damp cloth and a hand towel in order to clean and dry her face. Afterwards, he climbs into the bed alongside her; mindful of the various tubes and wires as he settles next to her. Leaning back against the headboard and stretching his legs out in front of him; her body fitting tightly -and comfortably- against his when he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

Dropping a kiss on her hair, he places his chin on the top of her head. “You good? Feeling alright?”

“I’m good. Full. I think I ate too much. Probably shouldn’t have had THAT much.”

“That was nothing. I’ve seen you put away enough to feed four grown men.”

Laughing, she digs her elbow into his ribs. “Fuck off, Tyler.”

“It’s kinda sexy; a little thing like you being able to pack it away like that.”

“I’m starting to regret that I even woke up. You picking on me like this.”

“Everything I say, I say with love. Just like when you make fun of my huge feet and big ass forehead.”

“I don’t say those things with love. I say them with one hundred percent truth.”

“Now who’s starting to regret that you woke up?”

“For the record, EVERYTHING I say is out of love. Well, except for maybe when I used to bitch at you for leaving your dirty underwear in front of the hamper, instead of in it.”

“You sure it was mine? ‘Cause I don’t wear underwear ninety-eight percent of the time.”

“Well…” She settles her head on his chest and places her hand on his stomach; fingertips drawing slow, smooth circles on the fabric of his t-shirt. “... unless there was another guy living there that I didn’t know about…”

“It was my twin. My EVIL twin.”

“And what did you do with him? Your evil twin.”

“Who says you’re not talking to the evil one?”

“The evil twin would NOT have spoonfed me apple sauce.”

“That’s a very good point.”

“Besides, there’s nothing evil about you- not in the slightest. Trust me, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if there had been. And I definitely wouldn’t have STAYED in love with you. The last five years haven’t exactly been pleasant for me, either.”

“I know. It’s not like you wanted to leave. Or stay away.”

“But, I promised we wouldn’t talk about this. Not right now, anyway. And I don’t want to fight. I know how things get when we talk about intense stuff; we both get worked up, and our tempers take over and mean things get said. And then the next thing you know, all kinds of feelings are hurt, and we hate each other.”

“I’ve never hated you. I never could.”

“Okay, maybe hate is a strong word. But feelings do get hurt, and then we hold grudges against each other, and things are awkward for a while. And I don’t want things to be awkward. I want to be better than that; like we were five years ago. Not that we were horrible together, or anything. Because we weren’t. We just…”

“We both had a shit we were carrying around. It was bound to fuck things up every now and then.”

“Everything happened so fast. Between us. We never really got a chance to catch our breath, did we.”

“Not really, no.”

“We went from those five days in Dhaka to living together and planning a future. It’s not like we dated; or got to know each other like normal people.”

“I think we long ago established that we are both far from normal. Do you regret it? The way we handled things? The way they happened?”

“No. Not in the slightest. I just think it’s just a reasonable explanation; for why things got a little tense and out of hand at times. But you? US? I’ve never…for not even one second…had any regrets. I mean, other than the obvious. My fuck up five years ago. I think that goes without saying. Do you? Have regrets?”

“No. It all happened for a reason: you showing up on my doorstep that day, everything that went down in Dhaka. And I hope one day I can say the same thing about you taking off, keeping Millie a secret. That there was a reason for it to happen that way.”

“There was. I wanted to keep you safe. That’s the only reason. And as far as not telling you about Millie…”

“I know you were scared. That I’d turn you away. That I wouldn’t want anything to do with her. And there are moments where I totally accept that. But other times…”

“Hurts like hell.”

He nods.

“I AM sorry, Tyler. And if there was a way of taking it all back…”

“Well, there isn’t.” Immediately aware of the harshness of his voice, he gives her shoulder a squeeze and smiles down at her. “I love you. I always have. And isn’t that what really matters? When it all comes down to it? That I love you?”

“That’s all that’s ever mattered. It was the only thing I ever had that was real. How you felt about me. It was the only thing that was ever important. And then Millie came along. She’s all I had of you. My only connection. I didn’t even have a picture of you. I just had her.”

“You’ve done a good job, Me. A damn good job. She’s beautiful. And so fucking smart. Way smarter than I was at that age, that’s for sure. Probably smarter than I was at TWICE that age. Maybe even smarter than I am now.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve got a bigger brain pan than you realize or let on. And that’s part of what makes you so good at what you do. You’ve got the size, strength, and skills; those things are easy for people to see. They don’t expect you to be smart, too. They underestimate you. And that’s what makes you so dangerous.”

“I don’t know, Me. I think you have me beat in that department. If anyone is underestimated…”

“Well, you know what they say, about good things coming in small packages.”

“Pocket-sized packages, in your case.”

“Oh God, not THAT again.”

“I’m just saying. You’re tough for a little thing. I can see why you were so good at the job. No one would ever expect someone like you to be able to pull those kinds of things off.”

“It was survival of the fittest. And the smartest. I learned early on that if I was going to make it out alive, I had to be really good at what I did. It was exhausting, though: pretending to be a completely different person all the time. I’m glad it’s done; that I can just walk away and never think of this life again.”

“Soon. Once we’re out of here and get settled in Broome and Nik takes care of things back in New York City…”

“It’s going to be weird. Living a whole different life. Seeing you doing a different job. I have to say, you picked a pretty sexy career. A girl loves a man in uniform.”

“I don’t wear a uniform.”

“That’s it; go and ruin my fantasy.”

“And there’s nothing sexy about those coats and those boots, I’ll tell you that much.”

“You’re just a real party pooper, you know that?” Nuzzling her cheek against his chest, she closes her eyes. Relaxing in the warmth that radiates from his body, the hard muscle against her, his familiar scent, and the way his calloused fingertips repeatedly graze up and down her arm. She desperately needs and craves the close contact; the feel of him a vivid reminder that she’d walked through hell and come out the other side.

*****

Several minutes pass before she speaks again. “Has Millie been okay?”

“She’s been worried about her mum. Constantly asking the doctor and the nurse about how you’re doing and if you’re getting better. And giving all kinds of advice on how to take care of you. She’s pretty adamant that mint chocolate chip ice cream is the cure to everything.”

“Was she ever in here? Because I don’t know if I was dreaming, but I have this very vivid, distinct memory of her sitting on the bed and brushing my hair.”

“Every night before bed, she comes in and sits with you. She always brushes your hair. And reads you a story.”

“That’s why I can’t get ‘Goodnight Moon’ out of my head. We really need to toss that book. Get her interested in something else. Because if I hear that damn story one more time…”

“Consider it done. As soon as we get home, it’ll mysteriously disappear. Along with your ten pairs of Crocs.”

“Hey! Leave my Crocs out of this. They didn’t do anything to you.”

“They’re an abomination.”

“They’re comfortable!”

“They’re ugly, is what they are.”

“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t touch my Crocs. I can hurt you, you know. In ways no one else ever has.”

“Doesn’t sound too ominous. Sounds more like you’re threatening me with a good time.”

“Listen, if you want to take your chances…”

“I’d rather be safe than sorry. You’re scary for a little thing. Probably the only person on earth who DOES frighten me.”

“You SHOULD be afraid. Very afraid. I have powers. That you can’t even begin to comprehend.”

“If you’re threatening me with no sex, I’ll have you know that I went months without it. After you left. Almost an entire year. So don’t think I can’t do that again. I don’t want to, but…”

“Who am I kidding? I’d never do something like that. I’d suffer just as much as you would. If not more.”

Yawning noisily, she once more closes her eyes; enjoying the feel of his breath against the top of her head and the sound of his heart beating deep within his chest. And he’s teetering on the edge of sleep when he feels her move against him; finding her peering up at him, chin resting just below his shoulder.

“You alright?”

“I have something to tell you.”

“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“It’s nothing bad. At least not to me. You might see it a bit differently. When you hear what it is. But I just figured that since we’re doing this whole totally honest, completely open thing, there was no reason to wait. That we’re in a good enough place to talk about it.”

“If it has anything to do with when you left and started hiding out…”

“It’s nothing to do with that. Well, maybe it does. I don’t know. I suppose it’s kind of related. Very loosely, mind you. I just think this is the time to tell you about it. I’m finally awake and feeling a lot better, and we’ve had some really good talks tonight, and I guess I want to keep the ball rolling and just..”

“Esme, you’re rambling.”

“I don’t even know where to start. HOW to start.”

“Just spit it out. Say what you want to say. What you NEED to say.”

Sighing heavily, she briefly glances away, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. “I was the one who asked Alcott to get you out of prison.”

“What do you mean you were the one who…?”

“I had spies, okay. Informants. Keeping me up to date on you. Alcott, Nik, Yaz. You know, people I could trust; to do the job for me and keep quiet about it. I didn’t want you to know that I was keeping an eye on you; I know how much you hate being babied or coddled or worried and I was afraid you found out I was sticking my nose where it didn’t belong…”

“I would have just been happy to know you were okay. To know you even still gave a shit about me. I wouldn’t even have questioned it; you spying on me.”

“I always gave a shit about you. It was never about NOT giving a shit. I still worried about you. I still LOVED you. None of that ever stopped. Not even for a second.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know about any of this. You and Alcott being buddies.”

“You know what it’s like in the circle. Everyone’s connected in some way.”

“And you asked him not to tell me. That he knew you.”

“There was no reason for you to know. It didn’t really have any bearing on anything. And it kept Millie and I under the radar; the fewer people who knew where we were and who were connected to, the better.”

“So he just called you and told you I was in prison?”

“Not exactly. Well, I mean, he DID. He was the one who let me know. But before that, he’d shown up in New York. Totally unexpected. And he told me all about the job in Georgia; how it involved your sister-in-law and her kids, and that it was Mia that hired you.”

“And…?”

“And it didn’t sit right. The whole thing just felt ‘off’ to me. I found it really…troublesome…that she sought you out like that. I mean, didn’t seem kind of weird to you? That after years of even knowing she was, she would just show up out of the blue? For something like THAT?”

“It was a little…odd.”

“I didn’t like it. At all. The fact she went looking for you. The fact that she would probably use your son’s death against you; use all that guilt and regret and grief to get you to do what she wanted. You can see why, right? Why I’d think that? Why I’d immediately go in that direction?”

“I’m not saying you were wrong for thinking it.”

“I knew once she did that, you’d go along with it. You’d take the job; not even caring about how risky it was or how dangerous the Nagazi were. So naturally, that made me even more nervous. Knowing you were going into something like that.”

“And Alcott kept you up to date? On what was happening?”

“I asked him to let me know how things went. Like I said, I was worried about you. And I knew all about Davit and Zurab and what they and their people were capable of. It scared me, alright? I didn’t want anything to happen to you. I loved you. You were the father of my daughter. And the thought of her losing you before ever even having you…”

“This is just…” He laughs incredulously and shakes his head. “Wow.”

“I knew exactly when the job started. Day, time. Right down to the very second. And Alcott was supposed to let me know how things went; get a hold of me as soon as you were free and clear from the prison and on your way to Vienna. So I could rest a little easier, you know? Only I didn’t hear from him for a few days. Which got me totally freaked out. I left messages, I sent texts. Nothing. Just silence.”

“And then…”

“And then I put more feelers out. I reached out to other colleagues. People I’d worked with in Europe. Specifically in and around Austria. I knew if anyone could find out if you made it there safe and sound, it would be then. And then they called back and told me that you were alive, but they couldn’t tell me exactly where you were. That I was ‘need to know information’ and I didn’t need to know.”

“So Alcott…”

“He FINALLY got a hold of me. A week later. And he told me what happened in Vienna. How you killed Zurab but ended up getting busted by the cops and thrown in jail. You were going to be there a really long time, and I didn’t want that to happen. You didn’t deserve to be there. All the bad things the Nagazi did? All the horrible shit they inflicted on people? You should have been given a key to the city and a parade in your honour. Even had a day named after you.”

“Whether or not I did the right thing, what we do IS illegal.”

“I didn’t want you rotting away in there. Not for helping people. For getting that kind of trash off the street. And there were selfish reasons, too. For why I wanted you out of there. I already knew I was going to bring Millie to you. It had always been my plan; to take her to her dad before she turned six. And considering you were facing a life sentence, I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. I wanted Millie to meet you. Have a relationship with you. And that couldn’t happen if you were locked up.”

“You’ve been really busy the last five years, haven’t you.”

“I was caught up in a few things,” Esme admits. “ Nothing that ever put Millie in danger. I’d never do that; take a job that could put her in harm’s way. There was no reason to think things would go so wrong with Alessio. I was so close; to getting all the information I needed. Everything had been so easy. Gone so smoothly. If I ever thought anyone would try and hurt her…”

“I never once thought that. That you’d put her in danger. I know how quickly things can go wrong. And if there was no reason to think that the job would go to shit…”

“Like I said, everything had been so easy. It was all running so smoothly. I would have been finished in a week. Two at the most. I don’t know what happened; I don’t know how things went so badly. But I never would have agreed to help Nik out if I even had the tiniest worry that Millie could be hurt. That’s my little girl. My baby. She’s all I had; my only connection to you. I wouldn’t have agreed to anything that could possibly hurt her. I…”

“Esme, you don’t have to defend yourself. To anyone. Let alone me. I’m the last person who’d ever judge you. All the things I’ve done? You really think I’d think less of you?”

“She’s your daughter, too. It would be really easy for you to be angry. Look what happened. Alessio’s family tried to kill us. It’s only reasonable that you’d be pissed about that.”

“I am pissed about that. But I’m pissed at them, not you. I know how much you love Millie. How well you’ve taken care of her. Look how happy she is. How healthy. How fucking smart. That’s not a kid being raised by a shitty mother.”

“She’s my entire world. I waited so long to be a mom. I’d never do anything that would put her in danger. I’d never…”

“I believe you. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’ve never once thought something like that.”

“The other night you were pretty angry. And you asked me how I could ever put her at risk like that. Why I would even go back to the job with her in the picture. You…”

“I didn’t mean any of that. I was pissed. Hurt. I’m an asshole when I’m going through shit like that. I say things I don’t mean. I’ve always been that way. You know that.”

“Still, there had to be some truth to it, right? To your words? There must have…”

“I love you, Esme. I always have. And I’m sorry that I lashed out like that. Said those things. But I didn’t mean them. I was hurt. And I wanted you to hurt too.”

“Well, you succeeded. Because it did. Hurt. I may have deserved to hear it…”

“You didn’t. You’re the last person who deserves it. It was just me being an insensitive prick. That’s something I need to work on. Not lashing out like that. I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing I want.”

“I guess we both have things we need to work on, huh?”

“There’s a list. Or two. And we’ll get to it when everything settles down. For now, can we go back to what we were originally talking about? Alcott? What happened after he contacted you and told you where I was?”

“I couldn’t let you waste away in jail,” she continues. “They would have kept you in there for the rest of your life. So I asked Alcott if there was any way he could pull some strings. Did he know someone on the inside who could help get you out of there? He arranged a meeting. Between me and his boss. I already knew him; from my time in New York when I was doing freelance work. I’d done a few intel jobs for him. Nothing too major. But if anyone could help, I knew it would be him. That’s a man with a lot of power. A lot of people under his thumb.”

“He is NOT the kind of person you should be mixed up with.”

“I had been offered some work. In Abu Dhabi. That involved one of his biggest rivals. So I made a business proposition; I’d hand over all the information I had and the whereabouts of this person in exchange for getting you out of prison. But he’d only agree if you would be the one to take over; take everything I knew and go after his rival and kill him. It was up to Alcott to offer you the deal; do a job for them and earn your freedom.”

“I can't believe you stuck your nose in that shit.”

“Look, I did it because I love you. Because I always have. Nothing changed in those five years. If anything? Missing you like that? Having a baby…YOUR baby…it made me love you even more. I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. Let you rot away in that prison. You didn’t deserve to be there. All you did was take out the trash.”

“I did a little more than that.”

“It was all you? That made all that happen?”

“I just came up with the idea. Alcott had to make it happen. He did the hard work.”

“I don’t know, getting in contact with the likes of his boss? That takes some balls. That’s the last person you ever should have trusted.”

“I didn’t have a choice. I had to get you out of there. And I needed help to make it happen. There was no one else. Believe me, if there had been, I would have asked them.”

“You did all of that? Put yourself at risk? For me?”

“Okay, so you may have shot the ever-loving shit out of Vienna. And came very close to burning the entire city to the ground. But it’s not like you didn’t have help.”

He gives a small chuckle.

“I couldn’t leave you there, Tyler. Just like I couldn’t leave you on that bridge in Dhaka. And I got you out of jail just as much for me as I did for you. Because I knew I’d see you again. Because I wanted you to meet Millie and be a part of her life. Finally get to be her dad. And that couldn’t have happened if you were stuck in there.”

He nods slowly as he considers her words.

Pushing her fingers through his, she brings their joined hands to rest on her collarbone and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re not mad, are you? Please tell me you’re not mad. I didn’t bring it up to cause issues. I just figured we’ve been so open and honest with each other and we both want to keep that going and…”

“I’m not mad in the slightest. I have no reason to be. I’m more surprised than anything; hearing you were involved in all that. I never would have connected any of that to you. Not in a million years.”

“At the time it all went down, I didn’t want you to know it was me. I wasn’t ready; for us to come face to face. I was scared, and I was holding on to so much guilt and regret, and I didn’t want those things ruining it, you know? So I asked Alcott to help me. And before your mind goes there, he helped me as a FRIEND. Nothing more. There never was -and never will be- anything between us.”

“He knows better than to even try. He knows I’d kill him.”

“Always the protective one.” She nuzzles the underside of his chin with the tip of her nose. “Always.”

Smiling, he pecks the bridge of her nose, then rests his brow against his. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

“I never stopped worrying about you, Tyler. I worried every second of every day. That something bad would happen, and I’d never get the chance to see you again. Or that you’d ever get a chance to see Millie. Or hear me say that I was sorry.”

“But we did get that chance. All of that happened.”

“It shouldn’t have taken so long.”

“We’re not going to talk about that. Getting into the reasons why. Not right now.” Tightening his hold on her, his hand falls to her hip as she presses herself into his side and rests her head on his chest.

“You know how you always say there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me? Well, it’s a two-way street. Because there’s nothing I couldn’t do for YOU.”

“I know. Believe me, I KNOW.”

“We take care of each other. It’s what we do. It’s who we are.”

“It’s kinda only gone one way. Taking care of each other. At least until now.”

“Well, in all fairness, I’ve never really given you a chance. To take care of me. And that’s mainly because I don’t get in nearly as much trouble as you do.”

He smirks. “I’m not quite sure about that.”

“For what it’s worth, you’re really good at. The whole taking care of someone thing. It’s a whole different side of you. That you don’t let anyone else see. Just me.”

“There’s a lot of those sides.”

“I’m lucky. You’ve always felt comfortable showing them to me. Right from the start of things. In Dhaka. You never hid them from me. You never hid the REAL you.”

“I never felt a reason to.”

Smiling, she reaches up to once more trace the various scars and cuts that decorate his face. Gentle fingertips glide over old and faded, raised and angry, a nail slowly travelling the entire length and curve of his jaw. “I do love you, you know.”

“Yeah…” Giving her hip a gentle squeeze, he leans down to peck her lips. “...I know.”

[twinaquapisces]

There does not exist a cult that forces people to be trans

Hi, I have no idea when you said this but I do have a general memory of when about the last time I said such a thing was. And yknow what?

You are absolutely 100% correct. 😃

Trigger warning for further reading. Triggers listed below the cut.

I will be making mentions to abuse, gaslighting, some very stupid decision making on my part, and the altering of one's own beliefs to match someone else's.

So yes, you are correct. There is no cult forcing people to be trans. Unfortunately what does exist is people with so much hatred and an incredibly unfair amount of charismatic talent. Enough at least to take the beliefs, ideals, and very personality of someone who foolishly fell in "love" at a point in life that should have been spent focusing on bettering mental health.

It's me, I'm the foolish person. And the person full of hatred was my "ex". Who I met firmly knowing that I was: Asexual. Some level of transmasc (still had some figuring out to do). And completely unaware of how to survive the world without guidance.

My mistake was in trusting that "ex" to be said guidance. It should have been enough warning to turn away when he denied my asexuality. It should have been enough warning to run away when his wife told me flat out what kind of man her husband is. But I was foolish and stubborn. And I stayed and let that man turn my entire mind inside out over the course of four years.

I became so indoctrinated into his own views that I hated myself for ever thinking I could be trans. That I denounced ever considering I could be ace. That I eventually became trusted to help him attempt to break down a new young afab trans persons defenses and bring them into his world of pain and control.

I did a lot of things for that guy that I am ashamed of. Not least of all throwing away my very self to be his perfect doll. Spreading his toxicity to other people who never deserved being subject to such hatred. I am still waiting to be paired with a trauma therapist to work over things.

So once again, you are absolutely 100% correct. And I am grateful that I didn't see your ask until now because if I had seen it while I was still with him I would not have been able to give this sincere response. As of now I have been away from that monster for 1 year and 3 weeks. I have come to terms with my orientation and gender identity once more and with absolute certainty this time. Officially 5 months on T next week.

Overall this is not an excuse. There is no excuse to be an asshole with the facts of people's lives and identity. But it is a reason, because despite myself I genuinely thought those beliefs to be my own at the time. I am ashamed to have said these things, looking back and seeing how completely I allowed myself to be turned inside out and upside down.

Hi, I'm RJ. I'm transmasc enby, ace, and my pronouns are he/they. I'm recovering from a situation that changed every aspect of my identity and caused me to lash out and attack people online who didn't deserve that treatment. And I'm finally looking forward to a future where I can be my ture self. I hope I never make my past mistakes ever again. And there is no cult forcing people to be trans.

[seriousbrat]

I cannot tell how delighted I am that my little list of questions snowballed into full-blown discussions of awkward teenage sexual and romantic experiences. So once again, I'll bite:

What about Snape?

Did he have crushes? (apart from the obvious one)

Did he ever have a crush on a teacher?

I won't ask if he died a virgin, not only because life fucked him in every possible way, but also because you wrote my favourite take on Snape's first sexual experience. Wanna use it as a hook to elaborate on his sexuality throughout his adult life?

Could he have left his own trail of broken hearts, but was perhaps too wrapped up in his own insecurities and grievances to notice? Even Neville managed to take a date to the Yule Ball after all.

Yes, you absolutely started the Slutty Sirius discourse on this blog and you should be proud! I've had a great time with it, personally.

I love to answer questions about Snape, so here goes:

Did he ever have crushes? Obviously, I think his infatuation with Lily was so consuming for him that he would generally not have paid much attention to other girls while he was at Hogwarts. In his mind, nobody could ever compare. That being said, I think he would certainly have observed that other girls were attractive. In my fic, the relationship he has with a girl called Nicola Selwyn develops in a pretty interesting way throughout the years, and I think if Lily hadn't been in the picture he might have allowed that to be a more full-fledged crush.

As you mentioned, and is clear in my fic, I'm kind of a Snetunia truther, but I don't think he ever actually liked Petunia. This might sound crazy, but I think the only other real crush he had, apart from Lily, was Narcissa Malfoy. It was nowhere near as strong, obviously, he was never in love with Narcissa. But I get the vibe from their HBP interaction that he was attracted to her, and that's how I write them-- Severus having an unspoken attraction to her from the moment he met her. He'd never presume to do anything about it, but because Narcissa was beautiful coupled with the fact that she was nice to him (nicer, in fact, than most other DE-adjacent people) meant that he did allow himself to feel that attraction to someone other than Lily.

While I'm also a Snulciber/Bisexual King Severus truther, I don't think Sev was really aware of the fact. So I do believe that in many ways what he felt towards Mulciber was an attraction/a crush I just don't think he'd have been very aware of it, and therefore it wouldn't have grown into a full-blown infatuation.

Did he ever have a crush on a teacher? I don't think so, largely because he was so focused on Lily while he was at school. And I don't think any teacher employed at Hogwarts would have fulfilled his lofty criteria, honestly. While I really don't think that Charity Burbage was Sev's friend when they were at school, I can believe that he might have found her attractive while they were both teachers together.

As for his sex life as an adult lol, I mean I think Snape was always careful about who he let in. I don't think he died a virgin, even if what happens in my fic hadn't happened I think as an adult who was more sure of himself he'd have found a way. lmao THANK you for saying that you enjoyed that take on Sev's first experience because I also highly enjoyed writing it. But I think it would have taken him a few years after Lily's death to even consider it-- remember that Snape grew up in a Muggle town, so I think he'd be more likely to go out and find a random Muggle woman who he could forget about the next day than anyone who could possibly have anything to do with his life as a wizard.

I don't think he'd ever allow himself to have a relationship, though. His guilt about what he did to Lily defines his entire life. As we know, he never got over it. So maybe he'd tried it a couple of times, seen that it didn't help but made everything worse, and eventually gave up on the idea entirely.

[fourseasonsfigs]

Building Block Figs - Armory

Following up on the recent sets of building block figs I've been posting, comes one of my absolute favorites!

As I mentioned with the earlier fig sets (Building Block Figs - Beautiful Fight Scene in the Middle of the Lake (Part One, Two, and Coda); Basking in the Sun, Catching Light, and Two Devils), I missed these sets when they first came out, so I've had to pick them all up on Xianyu. With the exception of this set! This one I couldn't get on Xianyu, despite my best efforts. I have only seen it for sale exactly once, and when I tried to buy it, it turned out the listing was only up to draw traffic, and the seller just had one other (vaguely related) set. I was resigned to just keep watching and searching for it and hoping for the best, which was a real pity, because just from the small sales picture I really, really had to have it.

Thankfully! Qilin, the merch wrangler extraordinaire (@88Qilin on Twitter), had bought this set way back in the day, and when she heard I was on the search for more of these sets, was kind enough to check in with me to see if I needed it. AND BOY DID I. She immediately sent it off, and it arrived in record time! She even included some wonderful little extras, that I took a picture of immediately, but for some reason can no longer find. I'll take another pic and add it! In the meantime, I'll add a placeholder:

[Qilin's extra goodies pic goes here]

I was so excited to get this set, I can't even tell you. I feel super, super lucky.

(Fun fact, Qilin is the reason I originally found out about fan made figs in the first place! I saw her post on Twitter (also way back in the day) about the New Year's series of 6 figs, and I absolutely had to have them. I had just reactivated my long-dormant Twitter account to keep up with the fandom, and I was super nervous to message her, thinking she would be like, "who is this total rando messaging me out of nowhere?!" But no, she was super nice, and very helpful, and it was entirely thanks to her I was able to buy the whole set. A minor miracle at the time, trust me, considering how green I was at navigating Weidian back then. If you ever want to buy figs directly, definitely check out her pinned post walkthrough on her Twitter page, it's invaluable information.)

The set came sealed and as usual, in a plain box. Inside there was the same set up as the other sets in this series - a double bagged bag of bricks, the card with the QR code for the online 3-D instructions, and a handy little tool to separate bricks.

The full name of this set is Lao Wen Sacrificed his Life to Save Ah Xu. It measures 8.0 x 5.6 x 12.1 cm, and is rated 10 hours to complete. The "hours to complete" ratings have been extremely accurate to date. But, I was determined to get this set done over this holiday weekend, so hoped that my prior experience on these would serve me well to get it done in record time. So I timed myself!

Here I am getting ready to start. Not a lot of colors, which is typical for these sets. Not too bad looking, huh? You'll notice that unlike the other sets, I didn't carefully pre-sort out all the pieces by size and shape. I simply sorted by color and left them in big piles like this, in a bid to shave off even more time. I was a bit curious if it would be faster to hunt-and-peck through each pile for the right bricks, or if sorting them was about the same. Given that it took about an hour to sort through the larger sets, I decided to roll the dice here.

The directions informed me there were 184 steps in this set. Not too bad! I sat down, put on my headphones, cranked up some music, and got started.

I finished the first little block just as fast as could be. I was flying! I was so proud of myself. It was a holiday weekend, the morning was bright and sunny, and I was having a grand old time.

The next step was to add a second base square in, and then a third and fourth. I added in the second base and kept on flying through it. And then...I ran out of a white brick in the largest size.

Which is kind of impossible. Each of these sets has extras of all the bricks - quite a few, actually. So I searched through the white pile a couple extra times, and sat there and wondered what was going on. As you know, I have lots of spare bricks from the previous sets, so it would be easy enough to pull the right one out, but this shouldn't be happening.

So I was like, wait a minute. I looked back at the phone directions for the step I was on, and said, hold on, I don’t see the character 白 for white anywhere. Uh oh. I Google Translated the characters that were there and sure enough, ��明 meant transparent.

I had just been going off the colors on the phone screen, and I mean, come on! The bricks looked white! If you scroll up and look at it, don't you think so too?

Anyway.

So, I pulled off all the white bricks, and replaced them with transparent bricks, and hey, what do you know, I had plenty of them.

Alright, alright, so this happens when you don't speak the language. Never fear, I'm back on track!

Dear friends, I was not back on track.

Sometime in all this confusion, I had spun around my little base square around, so when I attached it to the other base squares, I started filling in the top bricks the wrong way around. Luckily, I realized what I was doing after a few steps in, and I didn't have to totally reassemble it like I did with the Not White But Transparent Brick Debacle of early 2024. I just gently disconnected the base squares from each other, turned them around, and kept going.

So! I finished the first layer 1 hour, 46 minutes in. This, of course, includes the one major mistake and the one minor mistake. It's pretty big, isn't it? The other fig sets only had max 2 base squares, so I was pretty excited to see how nice and big this was. The transparent bricks look nice, huh?

I took a bit of a break. Made a little bit of lunch, tidied up a bit, and then came back excited to tackle the next round.

I was paying attention to the names of the brick colors at this point, believe me.

I finished the next layer 2 hours and 54 minutes in. Pretty cool looking, isn't it? It looks like some kind of disk in an alien language. I must admit when I got here, I was both quite happy and also a little concerned. Only layer 2? Still 138 layers to go, and it's been about 3 hours?

Well, no big deal if it took me longer, really. I was having a good time, and there was no actual rush. I will say that at this point, my finger tips were certainly feeling the constant pressing and snapping of the bricks. They had actually toughened up back when I was doing set after set after set, but it had been some time, and my fingertips were back to their usual soft selves.

Luckily for my fingers, I had errands to run and other things to do, so my sore little fingertips got a needed break.

The next morning, I was up and back at it!

The third layer was starting to look like the actual base of the platform from the show. I was pretty excited to finish this layer, I have to say. I took little breaks here and there, but I was pretty determined to make some real progress.

By that evening, I had gotten pretty far. I stopped here at 6 hours and 3 minutes.

I was inordinately pleased by getting to this step. I could see the robes carefully spread out here, just like the show, and their hands out there. There was also a little bit of white where I was starting Lao Wen's new hair color.

You can tell the passage of time by how the light keeps changing in each of these pictures! I always end with the bricks for the step I'm on laid out in front of me, so I always know where I am when I pick the set back up. My memory is just too bad otherwise, I'll forget what I'm doing.

Well, 3-day holiday weekends don't last forever, so I woke up this morning determined to finish this. There was a little bit of race against the clock today, since I had appointments I had to take care of, and I needed to have enough light left to take final pictures. So, I sat down, and started going as fast as I could.

At 7 hours and 6 minutes, I had built up the bodies, and was on to the heads. I hurried through my afternoon errands and got back around 3:10 pm. The sun sets here around 4:20, so I didn't have much time. Tomorrow I get on a plane, so it really was up against the clock! I didn't even put my headphones on this time, I just sat down and focused.

But, it turns out that I didn't need that much time. 45 minutes later, I was done!

Total hours clocked in at 7 hours and 51 minutes. I will tell you, I was indeed flying through this set - all those other fig sets that I made mistakes on definitely helped me. I knew what I was doing, and I went fast. If this had been my first set, or even my second (ok, let's be real, even my third), it would 100% have taken me at least the full 10 hours. It also helped that other than Big Error 1 and Small Error 1, I didn't make any other mistakes.

You can see how many bricks are left (which is why I knew something was up when I ran out of that white brick earlier). I will say that not pre-sorting the bricks is definitely the way to go - it's pretty easy to pick out the right ones, and certainly saves a lot of time just organizing them into piles.

Alright! Let's do some beauty shots, shall we? As you know, the light wasn't super great, but it was good enough!

Oops, I see I need to press down a little on Lao Wen's head to get the bricks firmly squeezed together. I'll admit my aching fingertips were not pressing down super hard at this point!

I really love the 3-D effect of the icicles ringing the platform. This set is just fantastic!

It's a little hard to see A-Xu's luxurious mane of hair here with the black on black, but it's quite nice.

Lao Wen's closed eyes! Please also note the little white underlayer on his robes here at his neck. So cute.

This is a nice angle to see A-Xu's married hair bun (minus one hairpin, of course) and Lao Wen's loop of hair.

This angle is the coup de grâce of this whole set for me. For the longest time, I thought the single bricks was his eyes and the marks down his cheeks were tears, but in reality I think the larger bricks are his eyes, and the smaller bricks are his eyebrows going up in shock and horror. But all I can see are (non canonically accurate) tears free flowing down his cheeks!

I did waste several minutes at the point I was building this just contemplating his face, and I was THIS close to subbing in the light blue for to make tears after all, because (sorry A-Xu) I find it delightfully hilarious. Little Lego tears! I can't even. But, I decided to go with the actual design for this so you could see it (and go back and replace them afterwards).

Ahem. Anyway. This is also a beautiful shot to see Lao Wen's long white hair draping over his shoulders.

More of the snow and icicles all the way around. It looks great.

Seriously, don't you think they look like tears? Right, anyway. This actually isn't a bad angle to admire the modeling on the clothing.

And we're back around. The modeling really is beautiful on this, with their robes carefully spread out behind them and to the sides of them.

Time for some closeups:

Aww, Lao Wen.

Aww, A-Xu, honey.

The bottoms-up angle was really hard to get on this set, since the base was so large.

The top down angle looks great I think. This is actually the first time that I'm noticing they have the scroll underneath them.

Honestly, I'm so impressed with this set. With only 9 colors, and some very basic building block shapes, they did a gorgeous job rendering this scene.

With my last picture, in the last of my fading light, here's my two sets of armory figs re-enacting this scene. The closest set is actually from the New Year's set of of 6 that Qilin helped me buy back in the day, so this really is full circle!

I couldn't quite get my camera to focus on both sets, but you can see the relative size difference at least. It's a big set!

Alright, these are the last of these sets for a while - there's two more sets of two single figures each, but I have not been able to locate them on Xianyu either. I'm ok with it though - this is the last of the big scene sets, and one I really, really wanted. The others are nice but not quite as special as the sets.

Thanks for the figthusiasts friends that have accompanied me on these building block fig posts! They're all quite long, so I appreciate you reading all my thoughts and experiences with these. I absolutely love them - they were a ton of fun, and I only wish I had more! I'd love to enact out the entire series with building block scenes - can you imagine?

Material: Plastic building blocks

Fig Count: 520

Scene Count: 37

Rating: Pure love

[link to the Master Post Index]

[godlesslittlecreatures]

Creature’s Petyr x Catelyn Masterlist, Part I

I've read it all...so you don't have to. 

I was delighted to get back on this app and find that there was demand for something like this. Even in the time since I started compiling this list, I've seen a few other lists going around, which makes my previously-closeted-PxC-shipper heart fucking sing. Y'all, I am not exaggerating when I say I very well may have read every single fic ever written for this pairing. That's both a fool's errand and impossibly easy considering the sheer lack of content, as I'm sure you know yourself if you're reading this post. 

I have stirred the dust at the very edges of the internet in my desperate, months-long search for quality content for this pairing. And believe me you, I'm no stranger to the disappointment of seeing something tagged "Petyr Baelish/Catelyn Tully Stark" (I encounter this issue more on AO3 than anywhere else, really), only for it either be an ancillary detail of the story, straight up nonconsensual, or an attempt by a butthurt ficwriter to punish two characters that so many people in the fandom seem to, at best, grievously misunderstand. Mistagging has caused me many an hour of eventual disappointment and cost me many a precious hour of my life that I will never get back.

But, even after wading chin-deep in all the shit this fandom has to offer, I have found gold. I'm here to prove it exists, if you only know where to look.

But Creature, what makes a fic good? How do you ascribe worth to something so subjective?

I've been told I'm a harsh critic, but this is less about literary merit than it is assessing quality as it pertains to the ship. Of course, many of these DO have some kind of literary merit, or, at least, are enjoyable to read. I grade a fic based on the following rubric, let's call it the Four Commandments of Petelyn Fic :

any acts of a sexual nature MUST - and I cannot stress this enough - be consensual. Do what you do, write what you write - I'm not here to police anyone's work. But don't put a pairing in the ship tag if anything that would earn it that slash between the characters' names is happening against either party's will. I simply will not read it. 

Petyr and Catelyn must have AT LEAST 2 face-to-face, one-on-one conversations. If you're going to use that damn slash, it doesn't have to be the principal element of the story, but it better feature in the foreground of the story, at least. It cannot just be a background detail that's mentioned once, off-handedly, at the end of a 63 chapter fic (true story, y'all). Better yet, it should have significant bearing on the plot, not unlike the way the relationship between the two does in canon - but that's a tall order, apparently. 

I alluded to this earlier. As an extensions of the first tenet - I do not want to feel the heat of the writer's hatred for the two characters through the story. So, SO often will people throw this pairing into some kind of canon divergent something or another and thrust them into each other's arms as a punishment for their Crimes in canon. Cat is Big Mean to Jon, so she gets the boot from Ned and ends up with Caricature of Petyr Who Lacks Any And All Nuance That Made The Character Interesting In The First Place to pay for Her Sins. I'm reading a fic because I like the characters, and I like the idea of them together (or, in many a case, him pining after her), not to stand beside someone on their moral high ground as they punish the two with each other. Again, not here to police anyone's work, so if you hate them both and want to take them to task by forcing them into some kind of relationship, be my guest! But don't expect to find your fic listed here. 

I have my own personal preferences (submissive Petyr, as I am not attracted to dominant men and genuinely don't think he would fill the dominant role in this relationship; I'll always prefer to read something requited, but that's even rarer a find; I'm not entirely crazy about AUs but can make exceptions, etc.) but I am trying to keep this as objective as possible. This list includes a pretty wide range of stuff, all of which I've enjoyed enough to reread at least once.

This may all seem like it goes without saying, but you'd be surprised. 

My credentials? A degree in TV and Film. I've read the books, and have studied the first three seasons of Thrones so closely that if I close my eyes I can watch full scenes in my head. I've been writing fic, fiction, television, and short films for 12 years, and reading and watching for nearly twice as long. And, most importantly, I'm a feral goblin who is batshit insane over these two. 

This list features fic from every corner of the internet - AO3, Tumblr, Live Journal. I unfortunately have been very hard-pressed to find anything that suits my fancy on FF.net, but if anybody has any recommendations (in line with the above), I intend for this list to be a living document.

And no, before anyone asks, I do NOT ship Petyr and Sansa. Respectfully, please keep that far the fuck away from me.

So, without further ado, here's a list of a very picky Petyr x Catelyn girlie's favorite fics.

An EXCELLENT starter kit. This is a three-part series that's currently updating. There are other things going on outside of them, but the relationship is essential to the story, thanks to the Cat POV chapters. This was the gateway drug for me way back when I still felt shame for shipping these two, and I love it still to this day. I love this series so much that, when I received the update notification for a particular Catelyn chapter in the middle of my college graduation, I dropped everything to read it. It moves fast, the political landscape is explored thoroughly, the divergence from canon is both plausible and interesting, and if you're not into smut, it's pretty fade-to-black.

Another one I read just after I'd taken the plunge down the rabbit hole. This is a notable exception to my general aversion to AUs - it works here, the real-world transpositions are not only believable, but clever! It features some pretty complex and subversive relationships between the characters; the PxC is certainly a critical, foreground element, but not always in the most immediately obvious way. Definitely had me Giggling and Kicking My Feet throughout. Refreshing is certainly a word. Obligatory smut advisory on this one, though.

Yes, I know, but hear me out. If you want to sample the best of the PxC wares the internet has to offer, you're gonna have to get down and dirty with Google's 'translate website' feature. This one is WORTH IT. I still tear up every time I read this. I have a particular soft spot for it because it reminds me of a short film I wrote/directed in college about my own experience with rejection and first love.

I believe this one is locked (meaning it requires an AO3 account to access), but making an account is both free and worth it. Yes, I know Winds is never coming out, but in my own delulu canon, this is it, this is the book. End series. Roll credits. 

Short as hell, you get the idea, but still fade-to-black if smut isn't your thing. It's hard to find good, dirty fic for this pairing. I do not currently have the mental bandwidth to be the change I wish to see in the world, but I will gladly support anyone with more patience than I.

Another locked one...oh no, I guess you'll just have to make an account.

Locked, again, but you know the drill. I believe it's by the same writer as the above. Always haunted by things that invoke Ewan McGregor's line in Moulin Rouge! - "thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love."

Not PWP but smut with themes, a favorite subgenre of mine.

Wholesome fluff to temper the fires of the above.

I think this may have been the very first one I ever read. Short and sweet, I revisit it pretty often.

Unfortunately, Tumblr only lets me add ten links at a time, so this is Part I of a multi-part series. I'll keep this post pinned at the top of my blog and add a link to succeeding parts in the comments.

I intend for this to be a living document - if you have any recommendations, my inbox is always open. Happy reading, my fellow PxC shippers :)

[indigosuvi]

The Best He Could

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 597 / Read it on AO3 / Wattpad | Event List

Baraka had never considered marriage. He wasn't human, and he didn't entirely care for human things.

His species only cared about survival and mating. Those were the words that had been uttered to him once before.

Not by you, of course.

He wanted more with you, but you wanted to wait until marriage.

It angered him, marriage? He didn't know the first thing about it.

He didn't even know how to get married.

He didn't pressure you, though.

Despite his feelings, he would try his hardest to do it for you and he would make it romantic. Well, as romantic as he could. He wasn't interested in those romantic scenarios, but for you, he would try.

He walked up the stairs of the castle. A guard stood there on either side. He walked past them, opened the doors to the castle, and walked inside.

The guards didn't bother to ask him or to stop him. They knew him well enough and trusted him, as Kitana trusted him.

He walked throughout the palace until he could find Kitana, ask her how things went, and what he could do.

She had lived her entire life in the castle, with a family, and probably had dreams of getting married.

With the information he had gathered, he headed out, determined to make things as perfect as he could.

Never, in his entire life, had he ever seen a romantic movie. He hadn't even read a romantic book; he had no patience for reading books.

The closest to romance he got was with Mileena and doing whatever it was that he could to keep her and Shao Kahn happy.

If Mileena wasn't happy, she wouldn't hesitate to rat him out to Shao Kahn, and he would punish Baraka.

Baraka shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away.

He headed off to a beach near the castle. In his opinion, it looked nice. A lot better than the other places in Outworld.

He headed off to the market, looking for a table, a cloth, and anything decorative that you might like.

He found exactly what he needed and began to set things up.

He knew no one would be here for a while and no one would bother with his things.

So he left quickly and began a search through the castle's gold, finding any sort of ring that you might like, and hopefully, it would fit.

He then made his way back home to you.

"Hello, Y/N. I have a surprise for you. Come with me."

He said as he wrapped his arms around you, being careful as he did so that his arm spikes wouldn't stab you.

He tried his best to be romantic, and it was clear he did try. He put in more time and effort than any other Tarkatan would have.

You smiled and followed alongside him. With the help of a portal, it wasn't a very far journey.

You looked surprised to see the table, the decorations, and the sparkling sea water that sat behind the table.

You looked over at him and he had knelt on one knee, a ring in hand, his eyes meeting yours.

"Y/N, will you marry me?"

Your hands covered your mouth, and you nodded while trying to say yes verbally.

He took your hand and slipped the ring on, rising as he gently picked you up.

You wrapped your arms around him and gave his face and neck kisses. Unfortunately, his species had no lips. It was the best you could do. Tears continued streaming down your face.

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

Tag List: @phantomheiko, @sunmoongoddess, and @thevoidwriting / To join my tag list apply here!

[axratsffxivwrite]

FFXIV Write Day 7 - Morsel (Hunter's Stew)

If there was any solace or hope to be had in the fate of Rabanastre, it could be found at the Delima Hunters' Pub at meal times. 

The building wasn’t anything grand on the outside, truly, but as one of the few rebuilt structures amidst the ruined cityscape, it stood out. The hunters congregated upstairs, trading rumors and investigating the mission board for the latest marks and bounties. Even up here, the smell of seasoned stew wafted up the stairs, mixing with the din of chatter and conversation. 

The residents of Rabanastre gathered downstairs, either sat amidst repurposed reels turned tables or crowded around the bar to call out their requests. 

Behind one end of the bar, Kemal huddled over a book, taking names and dates and noting who was ordering for coin or labor and who was here for the clan’s charity. He made smalltalk in between, ever chatty – sometimes too chatty, in Marsil’s opinion, but that was hardly a crime – and kept smiles on the faces of those who were waiting. 

An impressive feat, considering everyone here was hungry. 

Marsil dished up bowl after bowl of their hunter’s stew, loading them up onto trays before passing them along to Kemal to dole out to those in need. The heat of the hearth and of some two dozen people gathered around the room left him sweating and uncomfortable, his red bandana firmly stuck to his forehead even as he dabbed the rest of his face on a towel. Uncomfortable as it was, he did not dare adjust the bandana to wipe beneath it. 

One bowl of stew, one watered down ale. Free to any Rabanastran resident, once per day. For many, this was the only morsel of food they would have today. Supplies did not come cheap here, but each and every individual here was either too stubborn or too poor to make the move to Valnain. 

Marsil would keep his people alive, even if this was all he could do. He had the privilege of an organization, of associations with Lente’s Tears. He would be remiss not to put those to good use. 

While Marsil was halfway through filling another tray’s worth of bowls, a man knocked twice on the surface of the bar and called to the back, “hey Marsil! What’s in the pot this time around?” 

“Hells if I know,” Marsil chimed back, “Kemal? Think this one was your handiwork, wasn’t it?” 

“Kin, too.” Kemal replied, checking the day’s list for the name of the person in front of him. Not seeing her, he placed her down for a new order of the daily stew. “Should be harpy and rabbit, with some carrots and garlic Dad brought back from Valnain.” 

Marsil chuckled. “Oh, so Kin kept it reasonable this time?” 

“For once. I think he just likes showing off for– …well, certain people who weren’t there.” 

Marsil chuckled to himself. Maybe Kemal wasn’t entirely incapable of keeping others’ secrets. Very bad at it, yes, but he tried. 

The man at the counter chuckled. “Who’s your elusive Viera boy smitten over these days?” 

“Not a damn clue,” Marsil lied, picking up the tray and carrying it over to the bar. 

Hungry faces stared back but they waited their turns as Kemal called for names one by one.

Over the shouting, Marsil continued to the man, “Kin keeps his own counsel. I don’t think his own mother knows what goes through his head. Viera men are notoriously solitary creatures, I’m told.”

The man grunted. “I don’t think I’ve seen him and his mother talk even when they’re working the bar together.” 

Marsil grimaced, scrunching up his nose as if sucking on a lemon. “Aye, noticed that too. It’s complicated, I try to keep my nose out of their affairs.” 

Another line. Another lie. Such was Marsil’s life; a hundred little white lies, all piled up on top of each other, threatening to topple at any time. He lived with it, even as it loomed precariously before him. 

“Prob’ly for the best.” The man agreed, taking his offered stew and mug of ale from Kemal and inclining his head gratefully. “Thank you both, and give my thanks to the kid when next you see him.” 

“We will.” Marsil promised, taking up the empty tray once more. “I should put you on the bar more often, Kemal. It’s not normally this calm.” 

“It’s not that different from working the counter at dad’s shop. People are just hungrier here.” 

Marsil chuckled. “Fair enough.” 

Hours passed before those seeking food began to taper off. Once he had closed the kitchen, Marsil handed off the leftovers to Kemal to take down to the waterway, and seek out those who could not reach the bar themselves. Then he began the slow process of cleaning up. 

Most people left, seeking their own shelter either down in the waterway or elsewhere, but many remained put. A few folks pitched in to help clean, and Marsil made sure to note their names down on the list of folks entitled to an extra free meal. Tables were stacked atop the stage, lanterns put away, and floors mopped down and dried before he began assigning beds to those who stayed. 

The pub only had a few bunks to offer, but once those were given out to the eldest or the infirm, they turned to the supplies sent from Doma. Soon, the floor was covered in eastern futons, arranged to maximize the amount of people they could fit without blocking the thoroughfare entirely. A few hunters without their own homes to return to made their beds in the storage loft or on the couches upstairs, serving as both protectors and deterrence from any desperate thoughts of thievery.

Once everyone had settled in for the night, Marsil dimmed the final lantern, retrieved the lockbox that held the clan’s coin, and retired down to the waterways himself.

They would do this again the next day, and the next, until the Desert Sapphire gleamed with all her former glory once more. However long it took, Clan Delima’s hunters would keep their people alive.

[nobodybutapathetic]

Wait- Isn’t It Supposed To Be The Teacher? (!SPECIAL!)

Pairing: Tom Felton x Y/N Warning: Slight language usage Summary: You were just at school, doing your casual things until the principal called you and, something unexpected happens..

A/N: This was based on my dream that I had today. I was so happy to have this dream (I will change it a bit on this imagine) since today I had the most difficult exam ever. It really calmed my mind. Anyways, love you all! (Thank you so much @slytherinqueenrose for telling me to do this. At first, I was embarrassed to write something like this based on any of my dreams but, you convinced me to. Love you so much dear.)

(FIRST PERSPECTIVE)

I was just sketching, doing literally something that’ll cure my boredom.

I was at class, well, English class. It’s okay but, essays? Never gonna be on my yes list.

I sighed, looking at the window next to me. The sky was so dark, clouds all together, meaning it would rain.

Honestly, I was assigned to sit next to the window. Rain isn’t bad but, whenever it does rain, the water would most likely go to my hair. So, I always had to use the toilet or either bring extra clothes just in case.

“Y/N, got anything to say?” My teacher asked with a brow raised. All the students then looked at me when the teacher talked.

I’m so fucking annoyed by these eyes. Like, am I the eye candy to them? As if.

“Um. I must say, you must’ve chosen the wrong person. I have nothing to say.” I said, hoping she’d skip to ask another one of my classmates.

“Perhaps you weren’t paying ATTENTION in class. How many times do I have to say stay focused!?” My teacher yelled. I’m so tired of these ongoing days where I have to suffer hearing lots of complaints.

“We’ll see about that.” I mumbled and she just sighed.

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A few minutes passed then, the class bell rang. It was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard in my whole entire life. I mean, who wouldn’t like the sound of the bell? Well, probably because of how much LOUD it is that it’ll make our ears bleed but, the meaning counts!

I decided to stay inside class since it’s break period now and, suddenly, the Vice principal came inside. He looked like he was confused or in a hurry but, I didn’t mind at all.

He then came up to me, me being scared but calm in front of him.

“Y/N, I want you to go to the canteen right away! Now! While there’s still time!” He grabbed me, pushing my sketchbook and pencils to the ground.

“While there’s still ti-“ I was about to ask before the principal cut me off.

“No talking! Just hurry up and go!” He pushed me outside the door, me confused but, I ran anyway.

My canteen isn’t exactly the canteen you’d expect. We had to buy our food outside. Which is considered as the canteen. But as my surprise, it was raining! Fuck it was heavy.

The sky is dark indigo blue. It’s almost as blue as a blueberry.

“Y/N, come on!” My friend yelled, still running but then taking the lead.

“Wait- WHAT’S HAPPENING?!” I yelled.

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(THIRD PERSPECTIVE)

The sight of students running. Will they all disappear. Probably they will. As for Y/N, she’d probably be safe. But how would anyone know if she will? The running doesn’t stop at all. Plus, it’s raining. Anyone could slip off to their death.

Y/N kept running and running and RUNNING. She doesn’t even know what was happening. Poor thing. Although, once she reached the end of the canteen, her friends were only there. Well, some of them.

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(BACK TO FIRST PERSPECTIVE)

“There’s literally no one here!” I yelled, really worried.

“I know. Not even the principal. We must go and start searching for them.” My friend suggested which I nodded at.

We both ran outside the school, hoping that we’d find someone but, seems like our expectations were really that high.

“Have you seen anyone yet?” My friend asked, panting.

“No. You?” I asked back.

“Bad luck.” She frowned. I suddenly heard a beep sound coming from my phone which was really unusual.

“What are you waiting for? Check it out!” My friend grabbed my phone from my jacket pocket.

“Alright alright! Jeez..” As soon as I took my phone and checked the text, my eyes widened.

“What happened to you? Did someone break your phone or something? If so, don’t blame it on me! It’s your problem.” My friend huffed until I shook her to check the text as well.

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Vice Principal: Greetings to all students of Y/S (Your School). A very good afternoon to you all. We are sorry for the late inconvenience and that we are delaying the face to face interaction at school and start doing it online. We all humbly request you to join at around 5:40 exact and your assigned teacher will be waiting for you as you start joining. Thank you all for your cooperation.

Warm regards, Vice principal Vincent.

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“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” My friend yelled. I immediately covered her mouth with my hand.

“Well, they could’ve informed directly rather than texting because I swear this just wasted our time with running. Besides, it’s literally 4:30 right now and I don’t know if we’ll make it on time.” I told, she just clicked her tongue and removed my hand from her mouth.

“Y/N! We’re literally in front of a barn now and, I don’t even know what we’re doing in front of its entrance!” My friend said, I just rolled my eyes at her.

“Seriously, I told you that we have to just go back to our homes like nothing ever happened, okay? Well, maybe not the FACT THAT THEY LEFT US WITH SOME OF OUR FRIENDS. Yet, we have to accept it.” I said, patting her back before leaving.

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I prepared my laptop and stationeries for the assigned subject. I sound like a whole entire nerd but, hey. I just wanna be seen good this time.

“You can do this, Y/N.” I gave a quick pep talk to myself then joined the classroom.

Everyone wasn’t there. Well.. Except for me and.. TOM FELTON?!

My heart was pounding. I swear to god, I’ve been having a crush on him for the past few years and, I didn’t seem to not be surprised at the moment. I feel like my face is a total tomato right now.

He seemed not to notice me since he was looking at a paper. His blonde hair was so fluffy and kinda messy, his eyes can’t be ignored even if he wears his glasses. He also had Willow next to him!

Suddenly, my friends joined and he looked at the students then smiled. Hate to say but, I felt kinda jealous that he noticed them rather than noticing me but, I don’t wanna be a pick me girl right now.

But anyways, let’s just try not to ignore the fact that HIS SMILE IS THE MOST PRECIOUS THING EVER EXISTED.

Though, my friends seemed to freak out as well. Their faces were HELLA red.

“Wait- isn’t it supposed to be the teacher?-“ I asked. God I didn’t even know I had the guts to ask that stupid question!

“Well, you probably got the wrong code or you’re in the wrong server.” He said.

“What are your names anyways?” He asked.

“I’m Y/N and these are Y/F 1, Y/F 2 and Y/F 3. You must be Tom Felton, yes?” I said, trying so hard not to squeal.

“Nice names. And, you’re really a good guesser.” He winked. I AM DYING-

“How’d you even get inside and get the code anyway?” He asked

“The vice principle sent the code that he probably guessed. He sent it to everyone. Well- probably not everyone but us.” I said, he hummed.

“Why are you even on google meet?” I asked.

“I decided to join random servers to surprise people but instead, I accidentally made a server.” He said, whilst cleaning his glasses.

“I see..” I said.

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We spent the past few hours talking about our lives and other things. Then, my friends left except for me since Tom told me to stay for a bit.

“So um.. You told me you excelled in Y/FS (your favorite subject) am I right?” He asked, while holding up Willow.

“Yes. Yes I did. It’s quite easy to be honest but for the rest, well, it’s hard to explain..” I said, flustered.

“Understandable.” He smiled.

“I have to go now. Well, may fate make us meet again? And, if you wanna chat, you can either go to my social medias and text me there. Make sure your username is the same as your name, ‘ight?” He smiled once again but this time, it was filled with joy.

“Yeah uhm. Sure. Goodbye!” I waved until the meeting was ended.

I sighed. Today was a good day yeah but, I wonder when we’ll meet.

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