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moonlitstoriess · 4 months ago

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The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 1: The Echoes of a Forgotten Name

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

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Chronomancy: The mastery of time, allowing one to bend, twist, and manipulate the fabric of temporal reality.

The Asteri realm, once an epitome of unyielding power, now lay in ruins. The remnants of it's dark grandeur whispered of a time when it reigned supreme. Shadows flitted through the crumbling architecture, now an empty expanse where the only echoes were those of a fallen empire. The stillness was profound, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of residual magic.

Amid the debris walked Seraphis, her presence a stark contrast to the desolation around her. Clad in a black cloak that fluttered with her steps, she was a figure of cold determination. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the remnants of what had been the heart of the Aster's domino. To her, this destruction was not merely a loss but a catalyst for a deeper mission.

Seraphis' existence had been shaped entirely by the Asteri. From a young age, she was taken and molded into their perfect soldier. They told her that her parents had abandoned her, leaving her out on the streets as a newborn to die. She was an orphan with no form of family, no parents or siblings. Her upbringing was harsh and uncompromising. She was trained to harness the full spectrum of temporal manipulation--abilities that allowed her to travel through time, reverse it's flow, and manipulate it's very essence. The Asteri had crafted her to be both a weapon and a guardian of their interests.

Under their guidance, Seraphis had become a master of time's complexities. Once she was old enough and they deemed her fit for it, the Asteri took her with them to new world's as they went on conquering--no sharing their greatness with the world. That's how she ended up joining them when they would go from one universe to another, her time-manipulating power's growing stronger with each time.

She remembers how in Erilea she would send Maeve and Erawan the direct orders coming from the six Asteri. Of course, no one was more pissed than Seraphis when that Aelin Galathynius and her lapdogs ended up winning the war. Well, atleast they got rid of incompetent idiots like Maeve and Erawan. She also played a covert role in the shadowy events that unfolded, aiding the Valgs in their machinations and ensuring their influence remained unchecked. She had begged Polaris, The North Star, to let her go finish what Erawan couldn't but...they didn't allow her, seeing her as too valuable to risk.

When the Asteri's control extended to Midgard, Seraphis continued her work with the same ruthless efficiency. She wove through the intricate tapestry of its politics and power struggles, her presence a silent but undeniable force. Her actions, often unseen, played a key role in the Asteri's manipulation of the city's dynamics.

Now with the fall of the Asteri and their defeat at the hands of Bryce Quinlan, Seraphis found herself in a new reality. The Asteri, the only family--no matter how cruel--she had ever known, were gone, and their cause lay in ruins. Austrus, Eosphoros, Hesperus, Octartis, Polaris, Sirius, Vesperus and....Rigelus.

Oh, Rigelus.

Though millions of years older than her, Seraphis was the only being ever that Rigelus didn't look down on. Instead, he saw her as a close second, always being kind towards her--or as kind as someone like him could be. The respect and authority she held over everyone else just like Rigelus and the other Asteris was impressive.

Seraphis wouldn't call what they had with him love. No, a far cry from that. More like a sick obsession and posession that he felt towards her, always having her watched and protected, kept by his side on every event and conquest. And Seraphis loved every moment of it. She didn't care if that made her look sick, yearning for his and only his attention.

No one could ever understand what she and him had anyway.

Does it matter now? No. No, it doesn't.

Their loss ignited a fierce loyalty within her, driving her to seek vengeance. Those Midgard rats, particularly the bastard Bryce Quinlan, had disrupted everything she had been programmed to protect. Seraphis's focus was singular and unyielding. Her powers, unparalleled in their scope, were a tool for her vengeance. The remnants of the Asteri's legacy would be avenged, and she would ensure that their enemies paid dearly for their defiance.

Maybe, maybe Rigelus was against her being in the battlefield and focusing more on improving her powers more for this very reason. Knowing him and how he would always be fifteen steps ahead of everyone, even his fellow Asteri's, Seraphis wouldn't be surprised if he knew something like this would happen and she would be left as the one to avenge them.

Seraphis’s thoughts were interrupted by a faint sound—a shuffle, almost imperceptible. Her head snapped toward the noise, eyes narrowing as a figure stepped out from behind a crumbled pillar.

The figure was hunched, draped in ragged robes that trailed on the ground, their face obscured by a deep hood. There was something otherworldly about them, an eerie stillness in their movements, as if they weren’t quite tethered to the reality around them.

An oracle, perhaps. Or one of the soulless travelers that drifted through the remnants of the universe, always seeking but never finding.

“You,” the stranger rasped, their voice a dry whisper carried by the wind. “You are lost.”

Seraphis’s expression remained impassive, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of a blade at her side. “I am not lost,” she replied, her voice cold. “I know exactly where I am.”

The traveler’s hooded head tilted slightly, as though studying her. “Do you? You walk among ruins, chasing ghosts of a fallen empire. What is it you seek, child of time?”

Seraphis bristled at the title, her grip tightening on the hilt of her blade. “That’s none of your concern.”

The figure seemed to sigh, a sound that echoed strangely in the empty space. “Vengeance is a heavy burden to bear. The threads of time do not forget. Every action leaves a scar, every choice a ripple. You of all beings should understand this.”

Seraphis regarded them with a penetrating stare. “The Asteri were my family. Their enemies are now my enemies. The vengeance I seek is not for solace but for justice.”

The stranger nodded slowly, their gaze thoughtful. “Justice and vengeance are often indistinguishable in the eyes of those who wield power. But remember, the threads of time you manipulate weave through all that exists. Even in vengeance, there are consequences that ripple forward.”

Seraphis stiffened, her eyes narrowing. “You speak in riddles. Say what you mean.”

The traveler raised a bony hand, palm out, as if to placate her. “I mean only this: Beware of the paths you walk, for time is not a line, but a web. Tug on one thread, and you may find yourself tangled in another. The truth you seek may not be the truth you remember.”

A flicker of unease stirred in Seraphis’s chest, but she pushed it aside. “I know my truth. I will restore the legacy of the Asteri.”

The traveler bowed their head slightly, as if in resignation. “Then may you find what you are searching for. But remember, time itself may turn against those who wield it carelessly.”

Seraphis said nothing, her jaw clenched as the traveler slowly turned away, disappearing into the shadows as if they had never been there at all.

She stood still for a moment, staring after them. Their words clung to the air, echoing in the empty halls of her mind. But she pushed them aside as she always had. There was no room for doubt, no room for hesitation.

There was only vengeance.

Seraphis remained standing, her figure outlined by the towering ruins of the Asteri realm as she watched the shadows engulf the mysterious traveler. Doubt was a weakness, a sentiment she had long been trained to overcome. Her purpose was clear.

Turning back to the wreckage of the Asteri empire, she let her gaze wander over the shattered remains, of what had once been untouchable. Each piece of debris, every crumbled wall, was a reminder of her mission--of the legacy she would rebuild through blood and retribution. The ancient cities, once towering, had now faded into dust, but she would ensure that their enemies would remember them. They would remember through pain, through fear, and through her.

She moved through the ruins with a calculated stride, her mind already spinning threads of time, pulling at the edges of the past. In her hands, time was no mere concept—it was a weapon, one she had sharpened over centuries. She had walked between the lines of history, bending it to the will of the Asteri. They had shaped her, honed her into the ultimate instrument of control.

Rigelus had always been there—overseeing her progress, pushing her further, demanding more. Where others would have seen cruelty, Seraphis had only seen purpose. His obsession with her, the cold possessiveness, had been her source of strength. It drove her to perfect her abilities, to become more than just a soldier. She was his favorite, his chosen, and she had relished every moment of his attention.

The whispers of time teased her now, fragments of events from Erilea and Midgard slipping through her consciousness. Maeve and Erawan had been her pawns, their strings manipulated under the orders of the Asteri. She had done their bidding, silently observing the collapse of entire worlds, her presence unknown to the mortal players. Aelin Galathynius, Bryce Quinlan—all of them had merely been cogs in the Asteri’s grand design, and yet, somehow, they had prevailed.

Seraphis’s jaw clenched. She could still remember the sting of watching Aelin ascend, of seeing Erawan fall. The threads of time she had woven through that world had come undone, slipping from her grasp, leaving her powerless to intervene. That Aelin had won infuriated her. She’d wanted to be there to ensure Erawan’s success, to be the force that would crush the rebellion—but Rigelus had forbidden it.

And now, Bryce Quinlan. Seraphis’s hands twitched, her magic itching at her fingertips. The half-fae princess had killed the Asteri, destroyed everything Seraphis had been built for. Seraphis knew that Bryce’s power over the Gate was formidable, but it wouldn’t save her. No, not when Seraphis had centuries of control over time at her disposal. The moment would come, and Bryce wouldn’t even see it approaching.

But she couldn’t rush. Not yet.

Seraphis knew that striking without preparation was foolish, especially after the Asteri had been blindsided. Bryce would be expecting retaliation, the remnants of Midgard’s population on high alert. Seraphis needed time to plan, to gather intelligence, to weave herself back into the folds of the worlds that were left.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d need allies.

She came to a halt at what had once been the central hall of the Asteri’s council. The chamber had once thrummed with power, where decisions that shaped entire worlds had been made. Now, only silence reigned here. Seraphis’s silver eyes flickered as she raised a hand, time itself responding to her unspoken command. The air shifted, the ruins stirring as she pulled at the threads of the past.

For a moment, the hall was whole again. The pillars straightened, the ceiling restored. Seraphis stood at the heart of it, watching as ghostly figures flickered into place. The Asteri council in all its glory—Rigelus at its helm, the others in their seats. She stepped forward, her fingers grazing the edge of the spectral table.

“I’ll restore it,” she whispered, her voice filled with cold resolve. “I’ll bring you back.”

She let go, and the illusion faded as time returned to the present. The ruins crumbled once more around her. The past, it seemed, was not yet willing to reveal its secrets.

But Seraphis knew it was only a matter of time before she’d be ready to act. The Asteri’s cause had not died with them, and neither had their most powerful soldier.

She turned, her cloak swirling around her as she left the council chamber behind. The traveler’s words, though dismissed, lingered in her mind like an unwanted guest. The idea of consequences—of time itself rebelling against her—was absurd. She controlled time. She was time. The scars she carved into the fabric of history were her own to shape.

As she stepped out into the barren expanse once more, the wind picked up, swirling dust into the air. Seraphis narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t alone.

A voice, soft and detached, called out to her again. “Still chasing ghosts, I see.”

Seraphis’s hand was on her blade in an instant as she turned toward the sound. The traveler from earlier stood at the edge of the ruin, watching her with the same unsettling stillness. This time, though, they did not approach.

“I thought I told you to leave,” Seraphis said, her voice a low growl.

The traveler smiled, though it didn’t reach their eyes. “I did. But time has a way of bringing us back to the places we least expect.”

Seraphis’s patience wore thin. “You enjoy speaking in riddles. Speak plainly or be gone.”

The traveler’s smile faded, their voice lowering. “I am not your enemy, Seraphis. But your path is darker than you realize.”

“I know my path,” she snapped. “And I don’t need your advice.”

The traveler studied her for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Very well. But remember this—time is not as loyal as you think.”

With that, the traveler turned and walked into the wind, their form fading into the dust.

Seraphis stood there, alone once more, her mind already discarding the encounter. There was only one thing that mattered now: finding Bryce Quinlan and finishing what the Asteri had started.

She would bring time itself to its knees to see it done.

With a final glance at the desolate landscape that had once been the center of her life, she turned on her heel and began to walk, her steps deliberate, her mind racing with plans. She couldn't afford to waste any more time in this hollow place of memories. Midgard awaited her, Bryce and her puppets blissfully unaware of the storm that was coming for them.

Seraphis extended her hand, her fingers shimmering with the familiar hum of temporal power. She closed her eyes, focusing on the thread that would lead her to Midgard. Time bent to her will, the universe shifting around her as she tore through the veils of reality.

When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer in the ruined empire. The air was crisp and cold, the sky above a muted gray. She stood at the edge of Lunathion, the sprawling metropolis stretching out before her, it's towers scraping the sky.

For a moment, Seraphis took it all in--the hum of life and magic, the scent of the sea carried on the breeze, the distant sounds of the city's chaos. It was an intricate web of power, alliances and fragile peace. She would tear through it all.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her mind already calculating her next move. Bryce Quinlan might have been the one to kill the Asteri, but she wasn't foolish enough to think that her target would be that simple. Bryce wasn't alone--she had allies, strong ones, and it would take more than brute force to bring them all down.

No. She would need to be smarter, patient. The plan would unfold piece by piece, and by the time they realized what was happening, it would be too late. The city would be hers to dismantle, it's champions falling one by one.

Seraphis began to walk, blending into the crowd with ease, her hood low over her face. The streets were filled with fae, shifters, and ordinary citizens going about their lives, blissfully aware of the storm brewing in their midst.

This was no longer just about vengeance. It was about control--taking back what had been ripped ripped away from her. And Seraphis had no intention of stopping until the last remnants of these street rats were nothing more than dust.

Let the games begin.

Seraphis moved through the crowded streets of Lunathion like a shadow, unnoticed and undisturbed. She watched the people around her with detached curiosity, studying them, their movements, their habits. They lived in this world, so sure of their safety, of the new order that had come with the Asteri’s fall. Fools.

The Asteri had been invincible for eons, and now that they were gone, these mortals believed themselves free. But freedom was an illusion, fragile as glass. Seraphis would shatter it.

Her power thrummed beneath her skin, the flow of time bending ever so slightly as she moved. With a mere thought, she could slow it to a crawl, watch the world freeze around her while she continued untouched. But now was not the time for such displays. Now was the time for observation, for patience.

She knew the city well, even if she had never set foot in it herself before now. Through the Asteri’s influence, she had seen Lunathion grow, its streets mapped out in her mind long before her arrival. The Asteri had ensured her knowledge was extensive, always keeping her one step ahead of their enemies. That was how she had operated—always in the shadows, just out of sight, but always present.

Bryce Quinlan was the key to it all. She had torn down the Asteri, and for that, she would suffer. But Bryce wasn’t the only one on her list. Hunt Athalar, Ruhn Danaan, and all the other lap dogs. All of them had played their part in toppling the only order Seraphis had ever known.

As she passed through an open market, Seraphis paused, her gaze locking onto a news holo-screen. The display flickered to life, showing a broadcast about the city’s newest heroes. Images of Bryce and her allies flashed across the screen, their faces well-known to everyone by now. The city had hailed them as saviors, but Seraphis only saw targets.

Her lips curled into a faint sneer. “Enjoy the limelight while it lasts,” she muttered under her breath. “It’ll all come crashing down soon enough.”

Without another glance, she moved on, slipping into an alleyway where she could plan her next steps in peace. She leaned against a brick wall, closing her eyes briefly as she reached out with her powers. Time was a river, flowing constantly, but she could see its branches, the possible futures that stretched out before her.

She saw herself confronting Bryce, the clash of power, the chaos that would unfold. But it was distant still—there were obstacles to remove first, pieces to shift into place. She saw glimpses of Bryce and her minions, saw them moving through their lives, unsuspecting. They had no idea she was here, that she was watching, waiting.

But something else stirred at the edges of her vision. Something… unfamiliar.

Seraphis frowned, her concentration breaking as she pulled back from the threads of time. There was a presence she hadn’t expected, a ripple she couldn’t quite place. Someone—or something—was watching her in return.

Her eyes snapped open, and she tensed, scanning her surroundings. The alley was empty, the market bustling just beyond, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being observed. Her hand moved instinctively to the blade at her hip, her muscles coiled for action.

“Show yourself,” she called softly, her voice low and dangerous.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, from the shadows at the far end of the alley, a figure emerged.

They were tall and cloaked, their face hidden beneath a deep hood. But unlike the ragged traveler she had encountered in the ruins, this one moved with purpose, with grace. There was a weight to their presence, a power that prickled at the edges of Seraphis’s awareness.

“Seraphis,” the figure said, their voice smooth and calm. “It’s been a long time.”

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her blade. “Who are you?”

The figure took a step closer, their movements slow and deliberate. “You don’t remember me, do you? Perhaps that’s for the best.”

Her patience was wearing thin. She stepped forward, her power surging to the surface, the air around her thickening as time began to bend. “I won’t ask again.”

The figure paused, as if considering their next words. “I’m not here to fight you. In fact, I’m here to offer you something.”

Seraphis’s eyes darkened. “I’m not interested in offers.”

“Oh, I think you will be,” the figure said, a hint of amusement in their voice. “You’re here for revenge, yes? To make those who wronged the Asteri pay?”

Seraphis remained silent, her gaze cold.

The figure chuckled softly. “You may be powerful, Seraphis, but even you can’t take on this crew alone. They have allies, resources—things you can’t even begin to imagine. But I can help you. I know things. I know their weaknesses.”

Seraphis tilted her head slightly, intrigued despite herself. “And why would you help me?”

The figure’s hood shifted as if they were smiling beneath it. “Let’s just say I have my own score to settle with Bryce Quinlan and her friends. We share a common enemy.”

Seraphis studied them for a long moment, her instincts on high alert. She didn’t trust easily—especially not strangers who appeared out of nowhere offering help. Whoever they were, they were dangerous. But perhaps, in this case, dangerous could be useful.

Seraphis let her hand fall from the blade at her hip, though her guard remained up. “You speak as though you know much. And yet, you haven’t even shown me your face.”

The figure laughed softly, a low, melodic sound. “Trust isn’t something freely given, is it? But for now, let’s keep things this way. You’ll find out more when the time is right.”

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, the figure stepped back, already fading into the shadows. “Find me when you’ve made up your mind,” they called over their shoulder, their voice trailing off. “You know where to look.”

And with that, they were gone. Only the stillness of the alley remained, along with the faint hum of magic in the air.

Seraphis stood there, contemplating the encounter. Whoever the stranger was, they clearly knew more than they let on. If they could be trusted—or if she could control them—they might be the key to speeding up her plans. For now, she’d keep her distance but watch closely.

She pushed herself away from the wall, stepping back into the crowd, disappearing once again into the flow of this metropolis life. Her focus sharpened. She didn’t need anyone’s help—yet. She would deal with Bryce and her gang in her own way. But there was something about that presence earlier. It lingered, unsettling her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn't quite like anyone she'd known before.

Moving toward the heart of the city, Seraphis caught a flicker of movement to her left. Just a glance, quick, fleeting—but her gaze caught it in time. A tall figure, cloaked in shadows, moved through the market. For a split second, his profile appeared—just long enough for her to notice the tattoos curling up his arms, the way his eyes scanned the surroundings like a predator assessing the area.

Ruhn Danaan.

She didn’t know him. But as her gaze followed him for that brief moment, something stirred in her. A pull. It was faint, distant, almost unnoticeable. She clenched her jaw and forced it aside, refocusing her attention.

He turned a corner and vanished into the crowds, oblivious to her watchful eyes.

Good. He should remain that way for now. Her target wasn’t him—not yet. She had bigger prey to hunt.

But as she moved away, that strange feeling lingered in the back of her mind.

Seraphis continued through bustling streets, her mind a storm of plans and calculations. She navigated the urban labyrinth with practiced ease, the weight of her mission pressing heavily on her shoulders. The city’s vibrant life was a stark contrast to the darkness she harbored within.

As she walked, she observed the people around her with a cold, analytical gaze. She noted their routines, their behaviors, and the various places that could serve her needs—resources, potential allies, or convenient places to remain hidden. The city had a pulse, a rhythm that she had to understand if she wanted to exploit its weaknesses.

Finally, she found a small, nondescript motel tucked away on a quieter street, away from the main thoroughfares. Its faded neon sign buzzed faintly in the dusk, and the building itself seemed to blend seamlessly into the backdrop of the city’s urban sprawl. It was perfect—low profile and unremarkable, a place where she could stay under the radar.

Seraphis pushed open the door to the motel with a practiced nonchalance, the bell above the entrance jingling softly as she stepped inside. The small lobby was dimly lit, and the air carried the faint, musty odor of old carpets and stale coffee. Behind the reception desk, a man sat hunched over a magazine, his eyes glancing up as she entered.

The man looked up, startled by her sudden appearance. He was in his mid-forties, with a graying beard and weary eyes. He quickly set the magazine aside, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to apprehension as he took in her commanding presence.

Seraphis walked up to the counter, her gaze sharp and unyielding. She placed a stack of cash—more than enough to cover the cost of a room—on the desk, her fingers lightly drumming on the surface as she spoke. “I need a room. Now.”

The man’s eyes widened as he took in the cash, and he gulped nervously. “Of course, ma’am. Right away.” He fumbled with a set of room keys, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

Seraphis leaned closer, her voice a cold whisper. “I don’t want to be disturbed. Understand?”

The man nodded vigorously, his face pale. “Yes, yes, of course. Room 7. Just down the hall to the left.”

Without acknowledging him further, Seraphis took the key and turned to leave. The man watched her go, his relief palpable. As she walked down the narrow hallway, she heard him muttering under his breath, though she couldn’t make out the words. It was clear he was shaken, and that was exactly what she wanted.

Once she reached Room 7, Seraphis unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her with a decisive click. The room was small but adequate for her needs—a bed, a table, and a window overlooking the street below. She set her belongings on the table and began to prepare for her next steps, her mind already working through the plans she had laid out.

The motel’s ambiance, with its dull colors and low hum of activity, was perfect for laying low. The chaos outside was a useful cover, and she would use this time to strategize her moves carefully.

The hunt was just beginning and Midgard's fate hung in the balance.

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justinspoliticalcorner · 3 months ago

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Kavitha Surana at ProPublica:

In her final hours, Amber Nicole Thurman suffered from a grave infection that her suburban Atlanta hospital was well-equipped to treat. She’d taken abortion pills and encountered a rare complication; she had not expelled all of the fetal tissue from her body. She showed up at Piedmont Henry Hospital in need of a routine procedure to clear it from her uterus, called a dilation and curettage, or D&C. But just that summer, her state had made performing the procedure a felony, with few exceptions. Any doctor who violated the new Georgia law could be prosecuted and face up to a decade in prison. Thurman waited in pain in a hospital bed, worried about what would happen to her 6-year-old son, as doctors monitored her infection spreading, her blood pressure sinking and her organs beginning to fail. It took 20 hours for doctors to finally operate. By then, it was too late.

The otherwise healthy 28-year-old medical assistant, who had her sights set on nursing school, should not have died, an official state committee recently concluded.

Tasked with examining pregnancy-related deaths to improve maternal health, the experts, including 10 doctors, deemed hers “preventable” and said the hospital’s delay in performing the critical procedure had a “large” impact on her fatal outcome. Their reviews of individual patient cases are not made public. But ProPublica obtained reports that confirm that at least two women have already died after they couldn’t access legal abortions and timely medical care in their state. There are almost certainly others. Committees like the one in Georgia, set up in each state, often operate with a two-year lag behind the cases they examine, meaning that experts are only now beginning to delve into deaths that took place after the Supreme Court overturned the federal right to abortion.

Thurman’s case marks the first time an abortion-related death, officially deemed “preventable,” is coming to public light. ProPublica will share the story of the second in the coming days. We are also exploring other deaths that have not yet been reviewed but appear to be connected to abortion bans. Doctors warned state legislators women would die if medical procedures sometimes needed to save lives became illegal. Though Republican lawmakers who voted for state bans on abortion say the laws have exceptions to protect the “life of the mother,” medical experts cautioned that the language is not rooted in science and ignores the fast-moving realities of medicine.

The most restrictive state laws, experts predicted, would pit doctors’ fears of prosecution against their patients’ health needs, requiring providers to make sure their patient was inarguably on the brink of death or facing “irreversible” harm when they intervened with procedures like a D&C. “They would feel the need to wait for a higher blood pressure, wait for a higher fever — really got to justify this one — bleed a little bit more,” Dr. Melissa Kottke, an OB-GYN at Emory, warned lawmakers in 2019 during one of the hearings over Georgia’s ban. Doctors and a nurse involved in Thurman’s care declined to explain their thinking and did not respond to questions from ProPublica. Communications staff from the hospital did not respond to multiple requests for comment. Georgia’s Department of Public Health, which oversees the state maternal mortality review committee, said it cannot comment on ProPublica’s reporting because the committee’s cases are confidential and protected by federal law.

The availability of D&Cs for both abortions and routine miscarriage care helped save lives after the 1973 Supreme Court ruling in Roe v. Wade, studies show, reducing the rate of maternal deaths for women of color by up to 40% the first year after abortion became legal. But since abortion was banned or restricted in 22 states over the past two years, women in serious danger have been turned away from emergency rooms and told that they needed to be in more peril before doctors could help. Some have been forced to continue high-risk pregnancies that threatened their lives. Those whose pregnancies weren’t even viable have been told they could return when they were “crashing.” Such stories have been at the center of the upcoming presidential election, during which the right to abortion is on the ballot in 10 states.

Thurman, who carried the full load of a single parent, loved being a mother. Every chance she got, she took her son to petting zoos, to pop-up museums and on planned trips, like one to a Florida beach. “The talks I have with my son are everything,” she posted on social media.

But when she learned she was pregnant with twins in the summer of 2022, she quickly decided she needed to preserve her newfound stability, her best friend, Ricaria Baker, told ProPublica. Thurman and her son had recently moved out of her family’s home and into a gated apartment complex with a pool, and she was planning to enroll in nursing school. The timing could not have been worse. On July 20, the day Georgia’s law banning abortion at six weeks went into effect, her pregnancy had just passed that mark, according to records her family shared with ProPublica. Thurman wanted a surgical abortion close to home and held out hope as advocates tried to get the ban paused in court, Baker said. But as her pregnancy progressed to its ninth week, she couldn’t wait any longer. She scheduled a D&C in North Carolina, where abortion at that stage was still legal, and on Aug. 13 woke up at 4 a.m. to make the journey with her best friend.

On their drive, they hit standstill traffic, Baker said. The clinic couldn’t hold Thurman’s spot longer than 15 minutes — it was inundated with women from other states where bans had taken effect. Instead, a clinic employee offered Thurman a two-pill abortion regimen approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, mifepristone and misoprostol. Her pregnancy was well within the standard of care for that treatment. Getting to the clinic had required scheduling a day off from work, finding a babysitter, making up an excuse to borrow a relative’s car and walking through a crowd of anti-abortion protesters. Thurman didn’t want to reschedule, Baker said. At the clinic, Thurman sat through a counseling session in which she was told how to safely take the pills and instructed to go to the emergency room if complications developed. She signed a release saying she understood. She took the first pill there and insisted on driving home before any symptoms started, Baker said. She took the second pill the next day, as directed.

Deaths due to complications from abortion pills are extremely rare. Out of nearly 6 million women who’ve taken mifepristone in the U.S. since 2000, 32 deaths were reported to the FDA through 2022, regardless of whether the drug played a role. Of those, 11 patients developed sepsis. Most of the remaining cases involved intentional and accidental drug overdoses, suicide, homicide and ruptured ectopic pregnancies. Baker and Thurman spoke every day that week. At first, there was only cramping, which Thurman expected. But days after she took the second pill, the pain increased and blood was soaking through more than one pad per hour. If she had lived nearby, the clinic in North Carolina would have performed a D&C for free as soon as she followed up, the executive director told ProPublica. But Thurman was four hours away.

The consequences of draconian abortion bans are being felt, as at least two women in Georgia died over being denied emergency medical care.

#Abortion Bans #Georgia #Abortion #Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization #Dilation and Curettage #Amber Nicole Thurman #Abortion Medication #Georgia HB481

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naturistgirl · 21 days ago

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FORAGING FOR HOLLY AS WINTER BEGINS.

Today is the 13th and last new moon of the Celtic year; the Elder (tree) Moon. You may know it as December 1st 2024 but next year the new moon and the first of December may not coincide. The vagaries of the secular Roman calendar mean that it does not follow the moon's female cycle.

It was mild. We set out for the Wild Wood on a Holly Forage. I love going out to cut holly for the house. Most of you know by now that I do everything naked. This day was no exception. It was good to be outside with the soft winter light bathing my skin. I grabbed my Minnie Mouse shopping bag then we headed up the track to the wood. It lies part way up a hill and the brisk climb warmed us. I kept on my beanie and my pink wellies. Black over the knee socks kept my legs and feet warm.

In Celtic mythology, Holly carries great importance. I have spoken of the Derwen (Oak tree) before. The Oak King reigns the bright half of the year. Celynen, the Holly tree, is an emblem of Winter. Its shiny dark green leaves and scarlet berries shine out in an otherwise leafless woodland. The Holly King now reigns supreme in the darker portion of the year.

For thousands of years, people have gathered sprays from this Winter tree to garland and beautify homes in the darker days. The berries are poisonous to humans but the tree and leaves are known for their wonderful, magical properties. Holly wood, ivory white and hard, makes well balanced spear shafts for hunting. Babies were bathed in holly leaf water to safeguard them from ills. The Holly, like the Elder, was known to protect homes from evil spirits and to guard against lightning. The Holly symbolises peace and goodwill. An entwined wreath of holly brings good luck and faeries are thought to use it for shelter in the winter months; bringing good fortune on those who keep some of the boughs in their home.

We threaded the muddy paths of the Wild Wood and saw few other folk. Out on the pasture close by, a mixed flock of sheep were grazing, brought down here from the winter fells. There are many holly bushes here, dotted about among the taller trees. Most of them are male. You can tell them by the yellow flowers they sport in the warmer months. The female trees bear pure white flowers, and later, abundant scarlet berries. One male tree can fertilise up to about eight females (as long as they are no more than 300 feet apart)!

The Holly has a life of around 100 years, sometimes a little more. Like most trees, they embody a wisdom all their own. Look at a mature holly tree, particularly the taller ones (they can grow at least to 30 feet). Lower down, the leaves are spiny; a great defence against being eaten by cattle. Up above, the leaves lack spines and are gently smooth around the edges.

Once home, we will use the holly boughs to adorn our home as the Winter Solstice approaches. We decorate the fireplace, dresser, door frames and mantles to cheer the house as the light fails. Naked, you have to take care not to get pricked by the spines; ouch! We'll place holly above the old Welsh Dresser too. On its shelves, alongside the plates and crockery, stand two bottles of wild raspberry schnapps made from fruit foraged in late summer. Here's raising a glass to the turning of the year, the lengthening days and the returning power of the northern sun. Only then will we be able to spend long warm, naked days outdoors again.

If you are a naturist like us and you enjoyed this post, please like, share and re-blog with our blessing. All photographs were provided by my professional photographer husband (also pictured below).

Thank you Mart for taking such great images. All photos remain our copyright. We welcome messages of support and chats with other genuine naturists or the 'naturally inclined'.

If you simply enjoy looking at pictures of naked girls like me and don't want to read the blog, that's okay too. We won't block you, even if you have one of those creepily empty blogs. If you send messages or images of a sexual nature however, don't expect me to respond. They will generally be deleted and occasionally blocked. Finally, since you clearly appreciate nakedness, why not do us a favour and try it yourself? That weirdly vacant blog of yours could do with at least one naked, naturist photograph of you!

My blog depicts non-sexual nudity. This time I won't be posting solo pics separately as I have done previously. Too many of those shots have been re-blogged onto sexually themed sites, sorry. I love sex and intimacy but you won't find it on this blog. My blog is flagged as 'adult' because of its naturist content, not because there is anything sexual in its pages.

Enjoy your Winter naturism.

Jane xx

#naturist #nude outdoors #clothesfree #nude in nature #normalize nudity #girlblogging #outdoor nudity #woodland walk #celtic paganism #celtic mythology #holly tree #nonsexual nudity #trees and forests #winter #forager

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fawnprincessblog · 8 months ago

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𝒜𝓃𝓰𝓮𝓁'𝓈 𝒹𝓮𝓋𝓮𝓁𝓸𝓅𝓂𝓮𝓃𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓇𝓎.

(part 1: 'the praise and some coffee') type: slow burn, fluff (tom kaulitz 2015 × fem reader)

includes : teacher × student, childish annoying immature school girl who's name is Angel (you), teacher tom, wannabe teacher's pet, age gap. tom is 25, angel is 17. plot : angel, a young, childish and innocent honour student was shunned by her schoolmates due to her being a teacher's pet, but none of that mattered whenever she ran into her favorite teacher, Tom, that she so deeply admired, who she swears on her life she will serve until the day she dies. despite being favourited by many other teachers, tom does not favour her due to her clingy behaviour. she may be smart but her hormones play a huge part in her schooling life as well.

bambi's note! : hello sweeties :3 i don't really wanna explain much but i think you guys will be sick of hearing the same lame excuse to why i disappear quite frequently. writer block makes me want to suicide sometimes, i've been trying my hardest to write, this took me months to finally put tgt. crazy that it's short too. i have drafts from last year in my docs. im also an art student, so it makes it hard to tackle both things rn. anyway, have fun reading part one of 'Angel's development diary ' :3

“Everyone now turn to page 74,” Tom instructs, his voice sharp and echoing across the classroom. The whole room was silent, only he could be heard. Nobody would disrespect a man like him, for he was rather strict, and serious, his only intention being to get his point across and educate his students. That’s what the majority saw in him.

Well, except for one person. That was Angel. The honour student of her class.

Angel saw what other people did not care about. Despite being the very sophisticated and refined teacher everyone knew, to her he was so much more. Tom was a young, 25 year-old Maths teacher. She admired that strong body structure of his, and the way his face features all fit together. The way his hair was always worn in a messy bun, a few strands poking out the front, had just added to his good looks. He wasn’t over-dressed, like those wannabe scientists-looking teachers in her physics classes; he was rather usually seen in t-shirts. On special occasions, she got to see him in a suit.

He wasn’t the kind to play around. He expected all his students to pass his class with flying colours, not one left behind. In fact, all teachers wished the same. In such a popular and very high-class school, of course every single student had to be well-behaved and supremely knowledgeable.

The school Angel went to was one with a high standard of academic and extracurricular achievements. It has a strong emphasis on academics and often has a highly selective acceptance rate, which makes it difficult to get in. She was quite lucky. The campus has beautiful architecture, state-of-the-art facilities, and ample resources for students' academic and personal development. The faculty members are very well-educated and experienced in their respective fields, and the school often has a high student-teacher ratio. The students are often from wealthy families with a strong academic focus, and the school often boasts a high graduation rate.

Coming from such a school that was great and had put Angel’s reputation in great hands meant no mistakes were to be made at all. She had to maintain her good grades. And one thing is for sure: she couldn’t possibly keep having dirty thoughts about her teacher.

“Hey, you,” Tom called out, snapping his fingers twice. “Angel?”

She snapped out of her trance almost immediately, a little startled by his tone. “Oh—yes?” she responds, heat evidently rising in her cheeks the moment he had called out her name. Oh, when he said her name, it only served to heighten her arousal. His voice was so strong and firm, it made her squirm in her seat like a damn worm. All those dirty thoughts wouldn’t go away.

“Are you gonna pay attention? Or is daydreaming the only thing you like to do?” Tom asked, folding his muscular arms across his chest, staring right into her soul. He had this scary glare that usually put most students in fear, but to her, it was attractive. His dominant demeanour when teaching a lesson made her imagine all these horrendous things, like how he was in bed.

“N-No—! Um, I was listening,” Angel responds, clearing her throat. She shifted a little in her seat, tugging at the hem of her red plaid skirt. She was wet. So uncomfortably wet and aroused, she would’ve probably left a stain on the chair if she had gotten up.

“I hope so,” Tom grunted, turning back to the chalkboard to continue writing those endless amounts of Math sums. It was overwhelming to look at; all of the numbers bunched together, the dusty residue of the chalk making it even worse. It was a lot to take in, however that was just how it was.

His teaching continued, his voice loud and clear. Angel diligently started writing down her notes, trying to keep up with his pace. Being such a good student, she had become fond of his teachings, and she was expected to have one of the highest marks among the rest, even if everyone else was already good.

An honour student. That’s what she was. Supposedly, she was the teacher’s pet.

She did well, joined every possible club and involved herself in every school event, making sure she was obtaining high merit points that boosted her reputation in her school. Angel was simply a good little girl that most teachers did like, but the other students, and for some reason, Tom, did not like her. They found her exasperating.

The bell rings. Class is over, and Tom is preparing a stack of worksheets to hand out to the class on the way out. “Alright class, tomorrow I wanna see all your worksheets full of numbers. All correct and no mistakes. I believe I’ve taught you all enough on this topic, so I expect perfect answers,” he announces. “You can pack up and leave now.”

“Sir!” Angel calls out, rising from her seat abruptly, making everyone else pause from their packing up. Majority rolled their eyes. “You forgot to take attendance. Usually you take attendance every morning before class but since you forgot the checklist you said you would—”

“Right, right, okay,” Tom interrupts, an exasperated sigh followed right after. Clearly, he was pissed. Angel was quite aware that he disliked her try-hard behaviour, in fact, she was aware everyone did. Of course as an honour student she was made to please the teachers with good grades and behaviour, but the other students knew clearly she acted the most clingy around Tom. She saw past his strict demeanour and she acted like a child around him. Always trying to point out the simplest things, always reminding him about his meetings, always trying to get him his coffee, always trying to help him out at any damn chance she got— Angel was desperate and needy for his love. She was willing to make him love her. She wanted to be his favourite student.

He notwithstanding, saw her as a confounded girl who was beating a dead horse. A try-hard, annoying, clingy little bitch that stuck to him like a damn tick. It irritated him when she acted like his little servant.

But Angel liked it. She didn’t care.

“Since you wanna help so much, get the checklist for me,” Tom tells her rather bluntly, clicking a pen in his hand as he speaks. Angel’s ears perk up at his request. “What? Really?” she asks, eyes full of joy. That annoying excited voice—it made his ears bleed.

“Go get it, it's in my office,” Tom says. “And hurry. Your classmates wanna leave class.”

“Consider it done, sir!” she enthused, immediately dashing towards the door and running straight to his office. Like a little slave, she did everything for him.

Recess time. One of the times where Angel would bother her favourite teacher the most. Even if she was trying to be helpful, she usually came off as a nuisance. He was an earnest and disciplined man, always keeping up with his set schedule. During break he’d grab coffee in the teacher’s lounge, discuss some things with his colleagues, or he’d take the coffee straight to his office so he can finish up paperwork. However he wasn’t the only one who kept to his schedule…

“Hi sir,” she greeted excitedly, grinning like an idiot. She blocked him, not allowing him to continue walking through the school hallway, which was empty since everyone else was at the cafeteria. “Where will you be taking yourself to today? Do you need help with anything?

He lets out a breath, trying his hardest to not let her irritate him right now. Angel being around him was something he couldn’t possibly avoid. It was an everyday thing now. “No,” he said simply. He then looked around. “Do I look like I need help?” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. Angel could tell, but she couldn’t be bothered.

“You may not be holding anything that I could help you carry, but there’s other things I can help with,” Angel says. “Like, your coffee. Do you want me to get your coffee?” She was just so damn innocent acting like a maid trying to please him with every chance she got. She really acted like life was all unicorns and rainbows, like she had not a single issue in the world.

“For the last time, I can get it myself. You’ve been asking this everyday now,” Tom sighs. “Shouldn’t you be eating? It’s recess. Go eat.”

“I already have,” Angel replies with that annoying giggle right after, making him clench his jaw. She was insufferable. That giggle was ingrained into his mind. He could recognise it from a mile away.

“Okay, good. Now if you don’t mind, you can just mov—”

“One sachet of the coffee mix, two teaspoons of sugar and some milk to top it off,” she interrupted, making him raise an eyebrow. “You use the blue mug. Always the blue mug,” she added.

“You know my coffee?” he asked, a little disturbed by her knowledge on how he liked his coffee. His eyes narrowed to slits, peering at her.

“Yep,” she replies, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. To him, she was a complete stalker at this point. “You have about 12 minutes to go to the teacher’s lounge and get your coffee, and return back to your office to finish marking off the recent test you gave us before you have to rush to the meeting you have with Mr.Harrison about the new changes we’re making to the school’s mural art.”

“What?” he said, almost wanting to laugh in disbelief. That was way too many words for him to comprehend. “You know my schedule?”

“Well I memorised it,” she shrugged. “Tuesday’s and Fridays you stay in your office during break. All the other days you’re eating at the teacher’s lounge.

What the hell, he thought, looking at her with the most perplexed look he’s ever plastered onto his perfect face. “What are you doing, stalking me? My schedule is printed on paper and left in the drawer of my desk—”

“It’s also printed in my mind,” she joked, pointing a finger to her temple.

He looks at her, bewildered. Completely uneasy. He didn’t like this. He knew she always had this weird thing for him, but he didn’t think she was this peculiar, knowing his schedule and all. Tom was taken aback by her behaviour, but he remained unruffled for now. It wasn’t too surprising, since she had been doing this for a while; asking him if she could get his coffee, but he had always declined. In the past, she had been randomly reminding him about his meetings, or anything he planned to do on that day, which he also found annoying, but today she really surprised him, wording out his entire plan for today.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I know my own schedule, I don’t need you to tell me,” he says.

“I know. You’re very smart. But, I figured you’d like help,” she says, grinning.

He had to get rid of her. This damn pest of a student. “I don’t. Not right now. So, If you don’t mind, Angel, please move aside so I can go.” He tries to walk past her, but she stubbornly blocks him again.

“C’mon, I’m sure you need someone to get your coffee,” Angel insisted, looking at him with those set of pathetic eyes, ones that he insanely hated to look at. She was small, pretty, and sweet, but she was tiring. He didn’t like her. “Angel…” he sighed, wanting to snap at her, but he held back; he may be strict, but there was no reason to be shouting at a student who just wanted to help so badly, right? “...Fine. Get my coffee, bring it to my office. Now.” he finally relented, looking down at her rather annoyed that he had forced himself to give in. Oh, she really had her ways.

“Yes, sir!” Angel exclaims, smiling widely, and she dashed off, disappearing immediately. Tom folded his arms, watching the pesky little girl run off to get his coffee like a slave. She obeyed him so much, wanting to do anything just for his attention. He chuckled a little, he couldn’t help himself.

“One coffee,” she says, placing the blue ceramic mug onto his desk slowly, as if she were a waitress. Tom had been busy on his computer, going over some emails while waiting. She had returned rather quickly. Tom flashed her a faint smile, and he took the cup, taking a small sip. She had got it right. It tasted exactly like how he wanted.

Wait for the praise, wait for the praise, Angel thought in her mind, eagerly looking at him for a positive reaction with big, innocent eyes.

“It’s exactly how I like it, Angel,” Tom finally says, looking up at her. He noticed her small hands fidgeting with the hem of her school skirt. “Good job,” he finally praised, his voice low and soothing.

Angel’s cheeks immediately flushed pink. Everytime he gave her praise, her arousal hit her like a brick. She couldn’t contain herself. She could already feel herself soaking her panties. “N-No problem, sir…” Angel says, her lips slowly curling into a nervous grin. She squeezed her thighs together a little, trying to contain herself.

“You may go now,” he says.

“Y-Yes,” she nods, bowing a little as a sign of respect. She then left.

Tom did not know the effect he had on this girl. If only he could ease that ache.

#tokio hotel #love #boyfriend #tom kaulitz #smut #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader

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elbiotipo · 2 years ago

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Quick worldbuilding hack, if you want to make a coherent political system for your fantasy world:

Basically, between the fall of Rome and early modern times, in Europe* most political organization wasn't actually kingdoms ruled by One True King like it's usual in fantasy, but something like this:

Feudalism: here, the center of power was not the nation (there was little concept of such thing) or the state, and not even the King, but the landowners (from kings to dukes to counts...) and their network of vassalages to each other. There were no "countries" but rather hereditary titles, and the people who held them. There was little of a true state besides what individual rulers did; they didn't even have formal armies as such, but rather the vassals who provided them, they and could have multiple allegiances. Examples are of course the Holy Roman Empire (neither holy, etc. etc.) France (note that the 100 Years War was a dispute about titles rather than France vs. England), Spain (actually a bunch of kingdoms and crowns rather than a country), etc...

"Empires": A state where a central goverment exerts power over other territories and peoples. These are rather familiar to us, because a formal state exists here, and the ruler is more powerful and often does have a standing arming and administration instead of relying on vassals. Here, there is a bureacracy and a claim to rule a territory, and while they might have vassals and prominent artistocratic families (everyone did) their administration was state-based, not allegiance based. The Roman Empire is the most imperial empire, as well as its cringefail successor the Byzantine Empire, but note that the great Islamic empires also had this kind of administration, with governors appointed and confirmed by the imperial court.

City-States: Basically a powerful city (though they were often the size of small towns, still, very rich) ruled by a local aristocracy, sometimes hereditary, sometimes elected from a few families or guilds, or a mix of both, and in some cases ruled by religious authorities. These could be independent or organized in alliances, but were often vassals of more powerful goverments such as above. Cities are in many way the building brick of larger states; of note, in the Ancient Mediterranean before Rome conquered it all, leagues of city-states were the main powers. Medieval and Early Modern independent city states were the Italian city states of course, and a famous league was the Hansa (many of its members themselves vassals of other powers)

Tribes and Clans: Every culture is different with this, but basically here the centre of power is the relationships between families and kinship. If this sounds familiar to Feudalism, you've been paying attention; Feudalism is what happened when the Roman empire and administration fell, and it was replaced by landowners and their ties of vassalage and allegiances.

Now, besides the history lesson, why is this important? Because there are reasons why rulers had their power, and you should know that.

A king never ruled alone. He was only the head of nobles tied by vassallage (feudalism), or the head of a inherited state bureaucracy and army ("empire"). If you killed the king, another one would rise from the prominent families. Often by bloody civil wars or conquest yes, but the system overall would stay. A king did not reign by its own power or virtue, but because the system itself supported him, and of course, he maintained the system.

A new king who wants to replace the bad old king (a common fantasy storyline) needs to also deal with the allegiances of all its vassals (who would probably rather kill him and take the throne themselves) or build a bureaucracy and an army, supremely expensive endeavors in those times, which took decades if not centuries to build. In fact, the Byzantines and the Arabs inherited most of their state aparatus, in one way or the other, from the Romans.

This is also why these systems lasted so long, too. The appearance of modern republics and other systems of goverment needed the coordination of people and revolutions that did not just kill the king, but also replace it with something else, and for that you need literacy, economic changes, an empowered populace... But that's for another time.

I hope this is fucking helpful because I don't want to spell allegiance ever again.

*I would love to do more about goverments outside Europe, especially Precolombine American ones like the redistrubitionist state-based economy of the Incas, or the Mesoamerican city-states. But that's for another time.

#cosas mias #worldbuilding #history #fantasy

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celestesinsight · 6 months ago

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Kalki 2898AD Release Trailer - Bhairava Character Analysis!

There are many theories circulating about Bhairava's character and its importance in the movie. Here's my two cents regarding this. And to be honest, it isn't entirely my views too. It's what we came up when discussing in the Varadeva Discord Server.

First of all, there's a huge chance that Deepika's baby is red herring and Bhairava is the real Kalki. Ashwathama will realise this at the end of the movie and change his stance.

But my favourite theory is Bhairava being Lord Shiva. When Bhairava called himself the 'living legend in Kashi' in the Bujji & Bhairava series, it kind of stuck with me. Who's more legendary than Lord Shiva in Kashi? And the story goes that Shiva gave Kalki the divine weapon, the all-knowing talking parrot and the white horse. Bhairava have all the three; we saw the weapon in the first promo and Bujji's brain and body are the talking parrot and white horse equivalent. if Bhairava is Shiva, he's actually protecting the baby while pretending to hunt him for the Complex as well as testing Ashwathama's determination for redemption. In Mahabharata, Ashwathama was born after Dronacharya performed several years of severe penance to please Shiva as he wanted a son who possessed the strength and bravery of Shiva. So, it would make sense that Shiva aids him in his journey of redemption.

What if Bhairava is neither Kalki nor Shiva? Then what is his character doing in the movie?

"Despite the endless opportunities spanning over the generations, man fails to redeem himself and he never will."

I think this quote by Kamal Haasan's character, Kali is the key to Bhairava's significance in the movie, if he is not the titular character 'Kalki'.

There are many worlds in Hinduism, but our Puranas predominantly talk about the Swarga (abode of Devas), Prithvi (abode of humans) and Patal (abode of demons). There are also three worlds in the film: Complex, Shambala and Kashi. Unlike Puranas, where there were three races inhabiting the three worlds, in the film, the three worlds are inhabited by the humans only.

The Complex is the place where God is banned. They treat Supreme Yaskin as the God. They have conquered the world and taken all the resources for themselves. In appearance, the Complex gives the illusion of Swarga, but it actually embodies the demonic qualities of Patal.

Shambala is the place where they still believe in God and hope for his return to save them. They fight the Complex and their unjust actions. They are safe haven for anyone who wants to escape the hold of the Complex. In appearance, they are an underground society (Patal), but they are actually the forces of righteousness in the desolate world, fighting on the side of God and thus symbolises Devas of Swarga.

Then there is Kashi, the last surviving city. They are neutral. They are neither the evil conqueror nor the righteous warriors. They are humans who are trying to survive in an unfair world. They are not on anyone's side, but their own side. They represent the humans of Prithvi.

"In this world, there's only one side to be on. Your own side."

Bhairava and the bounty hunters of Kashi are the representation of the man in Kali's quote. They embody the qualities of selfishness, greed, and going to any extent to accomplish their goals, without caring about the consequences of their actions.

To be fair, Bhairava isn't doing anything wrong. He's trying to survive in a world which has lost all hopes. But he's so caught up in this mode of survival that he can't recognise this new hope for a better tomorrow, that Ashwathama and the people of Shambala are seeing in Sumati and her baby. All he sees the 5-star bounty that is his one shot at entering the Complex. He's not realising that he's fighting for the wrong side, that he's fighting to keep the old hierarchies intact that had made this world a hopeless place for him and others like him in the first place. He's helping the people who are the cause of all his problems under the illusion of becoming one of them.

Bhairava represents the man who is given numerous chances by the God, but he's so trapped in the Maya (worldly illusion) that he fails to recognise him and hence, is forever doomed to be trapped in the cycle of suffering.

Will Bhairava recognise the truth before it's too late? Or he will handover Sumati over to the Complex?

Bhairava's action would decide if the world is worth saving or not. If God should keep his promise and take birth to save all the humans? Or he should just let the humans rot in the hell, they have turned the Earth into.

The movie is not just about Ashwathama's redemption, but also the redemption of the mankind, represented by Bhairava.

As Kali said, humans have given numerous opportunities by the God to redeem themselves, but they have failed each time. Like Duryodhana failed when he refused to give even five villages to Pandavas, when Krishna asked, leading to his defeat in the Mahabharata war. Maybe that's why Ashwathama is having flashbacks of Mahabharata when fighting with Bhairava. He is seeing his past self in him. When he went against the Lord himself, blinded by his ambition and loyalty for Duryodhana.

Humanity is given another chance. Kali is sure we will fail this time too. It's up to Bhairava now, if humans fail again or they finally succeed in redeeming themselves this time.

#kalki2898ad #prabhas #deepika padukone #amitabh bachchan #kamal haasan #nag ashwin #bujji #bhairava #desiblr #desi tumblr #indian cinema #telugu movies

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meelkiewee · 4 months ago

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Hello!

As a first post i wanted to share my favourite bubbies and since tumblr seems more text oriented than the other socials I have, I'd like to explain what was going on in my head while doing their character redesigns~ [BOOKS SPOILERS MENTIONED]

INTRODUCTION

These character designs were made back in winter 2022 for a sort of animation thesis. Many things didn't go according to plan in that school year so for lack of time and motivation I've never really finished the animatic but I will include a wip at the end of this post. The animatic was about my interpretation of their story, finding a person to call home while in a crude and terrible world.

XIE LIAN

Xie Lian is the first of the two I made, his character design was very clear in my mind since the start. It's not largely distant from your official usual XL but I thought it already fitted very well.

The three main colors for XL are white, black and golden yellow. The prevalence of black and white colors was inspired by two main factors:

I personally see XL as a heavily dichotomy based character, not only in the association to the White Clothed Calamity but also in the way he's described as pretty as a flower but skillful with the sword, following a chaste path but mingling with a ghost king, all kind smiles to others but struggling with his own hope, etcetera, etcetera. He is in a constant struggle to find a third option that is better than simply bad or good, mostly in his early God's days, and also later on with ‘not knowing whether to laugh or cry’. So in here, black and white represent the reality of human nature, where you have bad and good qualities alike, a concept I think XL struggled with a lot since he was brought up as the perfect and pure prince that can do no wrong.

According to my research of the meaning behind colors in the chinese culture I discovered black and white can symbolize many things, some of which I found quite fitting for where I wanted to go with my character design. Black can stand for sadness and bad luck. White represents brightness, purity and innocence. In some instances, however, white is also associated with death and is a color commonly worn at funerals. Moreover in my own culture black and white, along with deep blue, are very elegant colors to wear. Simple and elegant is what my XL wants to look like.

Another important part of my XL character design is his bamboo hat.

Following some good old christian imagery I used his hat as an halo. Most of the time I even ignored perspective to make sure his head is always framed in this golden saintly circle In my animatic storyline specifically it represents XL perfection. Soon the hat is lost in the mud and brought back later on by HC with a new meaning of finding yourself in a safe environment with safe people.

For most of the other design choices I took decisions based on pure aesthetics such as giving him a very elegant mole under the eye, very long and lucious hair and a very very long hanfu with some very very long sleeves. Yes, I wanted him to be very very everything because I very very love him!

Here are some other very very outfits i drew him in for fun and didn’t need for the animatic:

_____________________________________

HUA CHENG

As a premise to my HC character design I want to say I am very amused at people’s different reactions to it. They are usually neatly split in two: either they hate it with a passion or just fall head over heels in love with it, no in between. I personally am in the ‘love it’ side (duh of course I am, I designed it lol) but I also understand if your first thought is “WHO TF IS THAT?”, so let me explain my thought process here.

Firstly, hot take: official HC character is made to be your perfect cool-hot-mysterious-boyfriend™ that has it more together than you do and we don’t like that in this household, at least not always. Yes he is XL’s most devoted believer, yes he is a very powerful supreme, yes he’s always there for his Gege but in the end he’s also a very traumatized person that has had a crush for a guy for 800+ years.

What I’m saying is I wanted him to be a little more relatable and goofy than what books show us so I integrated some of his personality hidden away in E’Ming. From here I got the puffy messy hair, the big round eye and the doubtful expression.

Next up let’s talk about the palette. He also has, like XL, three main colors:

Blue. Mostly of the time he spends around XL he does it in his true form, wich is the form of a dead person (even dead more than once;;). This is pretty self explanatory, when someone dies the hue of their skin goes to blue and also ghosts in general are frequently represented pale blue or white in color. As a little side note to this, I really enjoyed the blue demons HuaLian episode in donghua S2, it made me feel less alone in my smurf choice lol.

Red. This is canonically HC’s color and rightfully so! Red is widely recognized as China's color of good fortune, and in my culture, it is frequently used as a symbol of passion and the color of blood. There is really nothing better than red for Mr. Crimson Rain!

Lilac. Although I'm not sure about my research on this color in Chinese culture, I've read that it modernly represents love or romance. However, growing up in my hometown, purple (and all its shades) was always associated with ugliness and was thought to be a bad omen if worn. Whoever had the nerve to wear it was regarded as a distasteful and ominous weirdo. I think it fitted perfectly with how every other Heaven Official other than XL sees HC; someone who makes blood rain for fun and a potential and actual threat to the Heavenly Court.

As for XL, other choices I made serve a mostly aesthetic purpose. HC’s boxy build, pointy ears and the opened robe to see tiddies(🤩) are some of the notable ones.

HC would not be complete without E’Ming, obviously. After comparing some different blades and trying to integrate a butterfly in the design, I opted for keeping it simple and I ended up with this wobbly shaped hilt made to resemble HC’s bang. The fact that now E’Ming looks like it has a big nose is just an added charm honestly.

CONCLUSION

Thanks for reading until this point I hope you enjoyed my yap and make sure to have a nice day/night! <33

I'll leave the link to my animatic wip here, please note once again that it is not finished in the slightes and there are also some funky expressions that don't really fit the mood lol enjoyyy!

-Sole

#to die for you in battle is my greatest honor #meelkiewee tgcf #meelkiewee #hualian redesign #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #hualian #hua cheng #xie lian #heaven official's blessing #hua cheng tgcf #crimson rain sought flower #taizi dianxia #tgcf fanart #dianxia #e ming #eming #gege

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aziraphales-library · 2 months ago

Note

Hello and thank you for this blog! Do you have fanfictions where Crowley and Aziraphale (and maybe Jesus) go together on a roadtrip? It doesn't have to be with Jesus, normal roadtrip fic is alright! (I hope the fics would be over 10k words)

Thank you!!

Hi! Here are some road trip fics for you...

Do You Yearn The Way I Do? by leporidaecervinae (E)

A lonely desert road is a meditation's best friend. Aziraphale and Crowley are not talking. Not properly. Armageddon has been averted for a second, and final time. It takes a road trip, and a trip through cosmic uncertainty to investigate exactly why things are left unsaid. The Crooked Roost signals shelter, a safe harbour, and a solution to problems the pair haven't realised they've had yet. For Aziraphale and Crowley, finding their way back to stability is going to entail processing, whether they want it or not. Consent can not be granted when the psyche has not yielded. The ego must be dismantled in order to achieve truth.

Burning Through the Sky by ausgezeichnet (T)

Crowley, panic-stricken about the end of the world, flees into space in defiance of god and gravity, but Aziraphale won’t let him leave so easily. Will Crowley make the brave choice, and turn back to fight alongside Aziraphale for the planet that has become their home? Or: Crowley and Aziraphale go on a very strange road trip. Hijinks ensue.

Pray for Plagues (To Come Down on this Egypt) by A_J_Crowley, veganthranduil (M)

A couple of miles short of the Romanian border, Aziraphale regained consciousness again for a while. “Whose car is this?” He asked. “Someone else’s,” Crowley forced out between gritted teeth. OR how busting your boyfriend out of Heaven and the subsequent escape across the continent might ruin your day, week, and month.

Lonely Planet by Eighty_Sixed (G)

Aziraphale and Crowley go on a road trip to find God. What they find are a magic book, scared relics, dancing mystics, sublime mountaintops, several nice restaurants, and some insights into the human condition. Also, God. Eventually.

My Heart is in Ohio by smokeythewizard (M)

Seven years after assuming the position of Supreme Archangel, Aziraphale is no closer to thwarting the Second Coming despite his efforts in Heaven, until the day he receives a cryptic note from Hell's head office. The End Times have officially begun and the angel and demon are forced into an American roadtrip to save the world.

Part III: Not Single Spies by beardo (E)

A man with pale hair turns up in Saint Peter's Square, naked and without memory, and Crowley's old sense of Aziraphale's location snaps like a twig. Heaven is down another Supreme Archangel—but the new Christ is already on Earth (in France, to be precise) and the Second Coming is well underway. And Crowley works for Hell now, but really, he works for the good of humanity; pulling on every friend he has to stop the end of the world. Everything comes to a head with a delivery van, a flaming sword, a road trip, a prophecy, a wheat field and a miracle of rather significant proportions. NB The E-rating only applies to a small number of sections, and they're all clearly marked and skippable. The rest of the fic is T.

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #road trip #mod d

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Shelter

IT'S FINALLY DONE!

A request from MONTHS ago from the lovely, the talented, the supreme Lavender fan @dundienominee who wanted some QZ era Joel angst that included a few specifics. I thought you'd sent an ask but I think it was just one of the millions of DMs lol

So here it is! A NON-CANON Lavender one shot, where Joel and Doc are stuck together when FEDRA puts the QZ on lockdown.

I hope this is what you're looking for, love!!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender (can be read independently with the understanding that Joel and Reader are exes and Reader also dated Tommy in the QZ.)

Warnings: SMUT!, Results of canon-typical violence, infidelity (not on each other). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 8.4k

August, 2017

Joel had been right.

That wasn’t a fact he particularly appreciated in that moment. He’d rather have been right and not shot. He’d rather have been wrong, for that matter, even if you’d be bound and fucking determined to hold it over him for the next who knows how fucking long.

But no, he had to be right and shot.

Still, better than another alternative.

You shot. You hurt. That was the worst possible outcome.

Well, maybe not the worst. That would be you dead.

Joel couldn’t think about that.

“Shit,” you swore, the sound of FEDRA around the next corner.

“There,” Joel said through gritted teeth, nodding toward a pile of junk.

“Right,” you said, pulling him along toward it, your shoulder tucked into his underarm. You pulled him down to the ground just as a dozen or so FEDRA guards ran past, armed to the teeth, guns drawn. Joel fought to keep quiet, breathe silently through the pain, until he couldn’t hear them anymore. You looked at him. There was blood on your cheek. “Should we wait? Or do you think we’re good to move?”

“So now you want to listen to me?” He asked sarcastically. You glared at him. He ignored it. “Should be alright now, doubt more troops will be headin’ that way from here.”

You helped him to his feet and he leaned against you again, trying to ignore the way his body seemed to be hyperaware of everywhere you touched him. You started walking.

“I’m really sorry, Joel,” you said, sounding a little breathless, as you started getting close to his apartment. “I really thought it would be alright…”

“Maybe fuckin’ listen to me next time,” he managed through the pain. “Might not be a damn doctor but I do know about shit like this…”

“I know,” you said quietly.

Joel let the subject drop.

The two of you had gone to the absolute shittiest part of the QZ to run medication to a boy there who had been in the clinic just a few days earlier. You’d gone on a special trip outside the QZ for it. You had explained it all to Joel and Tess, of course, but he didn’t really get it. All he knew was there was a four-year-old boy who needed some drug urgently.

You just hadn’t bothered to explain where that drug needed to be taken until you, Joel and Tess made it back to the QZ.

“No,” Joel had shaken his head. “No fuckin’ way…”

“He’s going to die,” you said. “He has the flu, he’s already showing signs of complications, if he doesn’t get help it will kill him, I need…”

“No.”

“Fine,” you snapped. “I’ll go on my own.”

You turned to leave.

“No the fuck you won’t,” Joel grabbed your wrist, yanking you harshly alongside him. “Gonna just get yourself fuckin’ killed…”

“Fuck off, Joel.”

You pulled yourself from his grip and stalked off, leaving him no choice but to follow you. For someone as damn smart as you were, you made stupid fucking decisions.

Decisions that led to the two of you getting caught in the crossfire between two rival groups that left Joel with a bullet in his stomach near his hip.

“Almost there,” you said, your fingers holding tight to his side.

“Know where the fuck we are,” he muttered. He didn’t need to look at you to know that you rolled your eyes in response.

He managed to make it up the stairs and into the apartment, Tess pacing the living room. She stopped when she saw him, her eyes going wide.

“Jesus Christ,” she ran to him, taking his other side.

“Let’s get him to the table,” you said. “Trying to avoid doing this on the floor again…”

Joel had all but forgotten that you’d saved his life here, in this room, once before. He had almost no memory of it, what little he did remember was more like a dream. You, next to him, your hands soft, voice gentle, something warm in him that was tied to you. You didn’t seem real, you seemed like something he’d lost, something that was in a place that was too far and too good for him to reach. But you were there. And you were taking care of him.

“Fucking told you, Doc,” Tess snapped, helping to haul Joel’s broken body to the table. She cleared the papers and trash from it, dropping shit into a chair. “Fucking told you not to go to that side of the goddamn QZ…”

“Yeah, I get it,” you snapped back. “I’m a fucking idiot, alright? Just help me.”

You and Tess got Joel up on the table and he groaned, his muscle tensing and pulling around the wound in his stomach.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said, helping him lay back on the wood with a grunt.

“Don’t know why I let you talk us into this shit,” Tess said, still pissed, as she unbuttoned his shirt. “I should really fucking know better by now, you’re the dumbest smart person I know…”

“Tess,” Joel growled.

“She’s going to get you fucking killed,” she snapped. “She’s going to get us both fucking killed…”

“Tess,” his voice was sharper.

He knew that Tess was far from a fan of yours. She’d been growing tenser and tenser around you for a while now. He was never sure why, if it really was what she said and it was because she felt like you took stupid risks, if it was because he’d never been able to care about her the same way he cared about you in spite of how much he loathed it, if it was because she was tired of trying to keep the peace when you were so clearly done with him. For a while, it had seemed like the two of you were friends. Almost friends. But not anymore.

“Someone has to give a shit if you live or die, Joel, and we both know that it’s not going to be you and it’s not going to be her, either,” she unbuttoned his jeans next. “So that leaves me.”

“You think I don’t give a shit?” You asked, dropping your pack on a chair and yanking it open. “You think I keep you and him alive for fun?”

“No, I think you do it so you can keep trying to save a place that can’t be fucking saved,” she was yelling now.

“Tess.”

“Shut up, Joel,” she barely glanced at him before rounding on you again. “I’m tired of being some tool in her goddamn stupid crusade…”

“Tess.”

“I didn’t fucking make him come with me!” You yelled back at her. “I would have gone on my own, he’s the one…”

“You really think he’s the one who makes the decisions when it comes to you?” Tess shoved you. “You really think he’d let you run off to get yourself fucking killed? You’re an idiot sometimes, Doc, but you’re not that fucking stupid.”

“Tess!” Joel was trying to sit up but she wasn’t paying attention. You were. You looked at him, frowning.

“No,” she yelled, shoving you again. “No, I’m done with this shit, I’m done pretending that we’re doing fucking anything besides risking our fucking lives for some pointless…”

“Tess!” He managed to sit up, grabbing her arm before she could shove you again. Her head spun, hair whirling, eyes narrowed. “She’s right, don’t fuckin’ blame her…”

“She’s…” Tess shook her head. “You are so fucking stuck on her, on her bullshit, on…”

“Get out.”

You pulled gauze out of your pack and pressed it to the wound at his hip.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She gaped at him, her brows raised.

“You can figure out how to fuckin’ respect her or you can go,” Joel said through gritted teeth. “Not gonna just let you talk about her…”

“Her is right here,” you cut him off. “Stop talking about me like I’m not fucking here. And Joel you need to lie down before you fuck something else up, Jesus…”

Tess looked between him and you before she shook her head and stepped back from the table.

“Good fucking luck,” Tess snapped before stalking out and slamming the door behind her.

You looked where she had been for a moment before nudging Joel back down onto the table.

“You done?” You asked, brows raised. “Because I don’t need you to defend me from your girlfriend, Joel. I’m still going to keep you alive even if you both hate me.”

“I don’t…”

“Stay still.”

He gritted his teeth and stared daggers at the ceiling while you worked on him for a moment, pressing gauze into his skin for a bit before pulling it away.

“Don’t think you’ve hit anything major,” you said, more to yourself than to him. He still grunted in response. “Stay put, I still need to get that bullet out and get you cleaned up.”

He followed you with his eyes as you went about collecting tools, cleaning yourself up, putting on sterile gloves. He tried to focus on you without it raising his blood pressure which, he figured, wouldn’t be the best thing to do when there was an open wound on his torso.

But it was hard.

It had been years with you like this. More than a decade. Thinking about you too much made his chest tight, his stomach clench. Thinking about you too much made him worry he might be having a fucking heart attack, that you just might be the death of him.

But you were still who he thought about when he needed comfort. Still where his mind went when he was in pain and he needed to remember why he should try to live through it. Still what he pictured when alone at night and he thought the loss and the emptiness of his life would swallow him whole. Still where his thoughts found when he wanted to come because nothing had ever felt as good as you.

“Think you can sit still while I get this sucker out of you?” You asked. “Because I don’t exactly have someone here to hold you still at the moment.”

“Just do it,” Joel squared his jaw and stared at the ceiling again.

You were quiet for a moment before you touched his bared skin with the lightest, gloved touch.

“I really am sorry,” you said softly. “I know… We have our issues but… I really hate seeing you hurt. I really hate getting you hurt.”

Joel looked at you, your face drawn into a frown, your eyes sad. Even now, he thought you might be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“I know,” he said, looking back at the ceiling.

You were quiet and he could feel your eyes on him before he felt you slip some kind of instrument into the wound. He hissed through the pain of it but kept still.

“I know,” you said, voice gentle and soothing. “You’re OK, it’ll be OK.”

He remembered you using that voice with Sarah. He came home from work once and his daughter was perched on the counter, sniffling, her face streaked with tears. You were talking to her in that voice, a wad of paper towel held against her knee.

“You’re OK. It’ll be OK.”

“You with me, Miller?” You asked after what felt like an eternity but knew it must have only been a few minutes. “Need a break?”

“Just finish it,” he managed through gritted teeth.

You found the bullet and planted your hand firmly on the softness of his stomach.

“Hold still,” you said. “This is going to have to be kind of slow, there’s relatively little damage, nothing major hit and I’d like to keep it that way.”

You pulled on it and he could feel you moving through him, through the gaping wound him, pulling the pain out into the open air.

When you finished, you held the bullet up, glistening with blood.

“The cause of all this trouble,” you said, turning it in the light. “Let me patch some of this up and make sure you don’t bleed out. I don’t think you’ll need a blood transfusion this time at least…”

Joel frowned, lifting his head slightly as you set to work.

“What do you mean ‘this time?’”

You froze for half a second before you tried to brush it off.

“Just, you know,” you said. “In general.”

He watched you work for a moment.

“Hey.”

You glanced at him before looking back at his wound.

“What?”

“You had to give me a blood transfusion last time?” He asked, trying not to groan at the pain.

“I didn’t want to freak you out,” you said eventually, tucking gauze into the wound. “But… yeah, you were down a lot of blood and… Look, I did what I had to do to keep you alive.”

You cleaned up the skin around his injury.

“Whose blood?”

“What?” You asked, focused on the task.

“Whose blood did you use?” He asked. “Don’t imagine you went down to the clinic so whose blood.”

You were quiet and Joel was about to ask again when you spoke.

“We didn’t know your blood type,” you said quietly. “So Tommy would have been the best option…” your voice trailed off but he knew that wasn’t the end. He kept watching you and you sighed before you kept going. “But I’m O- so…”

He just blinked for a moment.

“It was yours.”

Your eyes darted to his for half a second.

“Yeah. It was mine.”

He was quiet as you pulled off your gloves with a sharp snap.

You’d saved him. Bled for him, poured yourself into him so he would keep breathing. He’d walked around for who knows how long with you pulsing through his body and he hadn’t known.

“You should have told me,” he said eventually.

“Yeah, well.”

You started packing up.

“You should have…”

“I couldn’t be sure that you wouldn’t fucking slit your wrists if you knew, alright?” You snapped. “You hated me. You still hate me but it was worse then, you’ve figured out how to tolerate me in the last decade which is great and all but Jesus, Joel, don’t act like telling you was the easy thing to do.”

You threw your pack over your shoulder and he sat up, ignoring the pain at his hip.

“I need to get home,” you said. “Try not to wreck all my work…”

There was a pounding at the door that made you jump. Joel shoved himself off the table and quickly buttoned his shirt as he limped for the door.

“Bag down,” he said quietly. “Stay back.”

You nodded, obeying him for once in your damn life.

He opened the door slowly, cautiously. A FEDRA officer stood at his door.

“Can I help you?” Joel tried not to growl, tried not to do anything that would incite suspicion. Not that he could help that he had on a bloody shirt with a fucking bullet hole in it.

“There’s been increase violence in a nearby quadrant of the QZ,” the man said, barely looking at Joel. “We’re requiring all residents to shelter in place until further notice. Is everyone here a member of your household or does someone need an escort home?”

Joel saw you step toward the door, opening your mouth like you were about to speak, but he held his hand out behind him, silencing you.

“Same household,” he said. “We’re all set here.”

“We’ll let you know when it’s safe to leave,” the guard said. “Lock your door.”

He left before Joel had a chance to respond and he shut the door quickly before slumping against it.

“Joel!” You hissed, going to his side and looping an arm around his waist. He leaned against you and you helped him to the couch. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“You really want to get a fuckin’ FEDRA escort home?” He grimaced.

“No,” you snapped, setting him on the couch. “But do you remember how long they locked us down for last time?”

“No.”

“A week,” you said, sitting on the threadbare arm chair. “And I’d rather get a FEDRA escort than have you kill me out of frustration in three days because that’s how long we’ll last before you get that fed up with me.”

“Jesus, you really think we can’t manage to not kill each other for a few fuckin’ days?” He settled into the couch. “You n’me have survived a lot worse than that.”

You scoffed.

“Have we?” You asked, brows raised. “Besides, aren’t you worried about Tess?”

He shrugged.

“She can handle herself better than you can,” he said and you rolled your eyes. “You that worried about gettin’ back to Derek?”

“Worried about FEDRA showing up at my door to look for relief for the clinic and not finding me,” you snapped. “Should have just let them…”

“Not gonna let you go out there with those fucking assholes if people are out there shooting at each other!” Joel cut you off. “Don’t trust ‘em with shit let alone with you! I can keep you safe here so you’re staying here, it ain’t up for discussion!”

You just blinked at Joel for a moment, a shocked look on your face.

“Think we can handle not strangling each other for a few damn days,” he muttered, looking away from you. He couldn’t really handle looking at you. You didn’t say anything. You just got up, grabbing your pack and stalking further into the apartment. He frowned. “Where do you think you’re goin’?”

“Don’t want to be around you any more than you want to be around me,” you said. “So I’m going to Tommy’s room…”

“Always liked his bed,” Joel muttered, grinding his teeth.

You flipped him off, not bothering to even look at him before slamming Tommy’s door behind you.

***

Day 1

Tommy needed better hobbies.

It was clear Joel had barely used Tommy’s room since he’d left. There were some boxes for storage - things you weren’t about to go searching through since you were pretty sure it was full of black market things from smuggling runs - but otherwise it was exactly how you remembered it. Not that you’d ever spent much time here. You liked to avoid Joel and Tommy seemed to like to avoid him even more than you did when you were around. You’d slept here a few times, when Joel was outside the QZ but Tommy had stayed behind, but he was much more likely to be at your place than his.

But this room was all but a shrine to him. Or maybe more of a mausoleum, something left in memory of someone who was gone and would never be back. You hadn’t really realized how much you’d missed your friend until you were back in his space, surrounded by his things.

You also realized that, in reality, you didn’t have a ton in common. Tommy’s book collection was… lacking. He had a few tattered Tom Clancy novels and you settled on one that you were pretty sure he’d brought over to your place once or twice.

It wasn’t really your thing, though, and you were desperately bored. You were going to have to emerge from the room eventually to do more than pee and refill your water bottle in the bathroom sink. You were almost out of the jerky you’d packed for your trip outside the QZ and you’d never been very good at sitting still with nothing to occupy your mind.

But you’d need to check on Joel’s injury at some point, anyway. Because looking at the ex who seemed to mostly hate you but apparently flew off the handle at the thought of you getting shot.

Which you didn’t fully understand. If anyone asked you, you’d have sworn up and down that Joel would shoot you in the street if it wouldn’t make his life harder. You were surprised he hadn’t all but tossed you to an infected in the years you’d been going outside the QZ but the fact that you did things like pull bullets out of him and stitch Tess’ knife wounds closed was apparently a good enough reason to keep you alive.

You didn’t see how that was a good enough reason to keep you from leaving his apartment when the two of you were about to be locked down for who the fuck knows how long. What were you supposed to do with… well, any of it?

Your head dangled over the edge of the bed when you spotted a ratty tennis ball in the corner. You tumbled off the bed and picked it up, oddly grateful to have something to function as a distraction and started bouncing it off the wall, catching it out of the air when it bounced back at you.

“The fuck you doing?” Joel called at you from the other side of the wall.

You rolled your eyes.

“Keeping myself from being so bored that I jump out a window.”

He was quiet for a minute.

You threw the ball again.

“It’s annoying.”

You caught the ball and then threw it.

“Should’ve sent me off with FEDRA then.”

For a moment, you thought that might be the end of it. And then the door opened.

He’d gotten changed, at least, his new shirt as clean and intact as you could really find in the QZ and he looked a little pale. You looked him in he eye and you threw the ball again.

“You tryin’ to piss me off?” He asked, one arm propped against the door frame.

You shrugged and caught the ball.

“You just make it so fun…”

You threw the ball again and he came and snatched it out of the air. You glared at him.

“Are you trying to make me miserable?” You asked. “Because it’s getting really old…”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” He snapped. “Think I decided to come find you in my brother’s bed because it’s fun…”

“Oh will you stop fucking harping on that?” You shoved off the bed and stalked over to him in the doorway. “It’s ancient history! Think it’s time to get over the fact that your brother decided to pick up your broken toy…”

“You think that’s why I’m pissed?” He asked, brows raised.

You ignored him, dropping to your knees and yanking his shirt up. He stopped breathing and you checked his wound before getting to your feet.

“In a few hours I’ll change your dressing,” you said, looking up at him as you stood almost shockingly close to him. You could see the pulse in his throat. “Leave me alone until then.”

He clenched his jaw, looking you up and down, before storming off, yanking the door shut behind him.

Day 2

You waited until you heard the bathroom door close before you emerged. You were officially out of jerky and sitting in a room full of Tommy’s things while being sharply aware that he was thousands of miles away from you was wearing on you fast. You needed something - anything - to distract you.

So you darted to the kitchen, grabbed a bag of jerky, and paused on your way past Joel’s room, his door cracked open. If you were quick…

You opened the, the hinges creaking, and ducked inside.

It was neat, orderly. Like you remembered it being years ago when you were together. There were little signs of him everywhere, enough that you’d have recognized the room as his even if you’d walked into it in a strange place a thousand miles away. Little carvings on the window sill, the watch you’d helped Sarah picked for his birthday gift on the nightstand, a cracked Springsteen CD case sitting next to a worn boom box. You resisted the urge to touch the booklet and see if it fell open to a specific page, if you could tell what he’d been looking for when picking that album.

Instead, you went to the bookshelf that was collapsing, worn boards sagging between cinderblocks. You recognized Joel’s taste in books, a little more in line with your own. You found a Cormac McCarthy book you hadn’t read with a spine that looked comfortably warn and pulled it, almost reverently, off the shelf.

“The hell you doin’?”

You jumped, almost dropping the book and the bag of jerky.

“Sorry…”

“I say you could come in here?”

He was standing in the doorway in pajamas, his pants slung low on his hips, t-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders.

“I am bored out of my mind,” you said, squaring your jaw even though you knew you shouldn’t be in his room. “I got desperate.”

“You think that’s a reason to just waltz in…”

“No, but…”

“Sure acting like it!”

“Is hating me fun for you?” You snapped. “Because it sure seems like it is! I don’t know why you’d work this hard at it if it wasn’t.”

He looked you up and down for a moment.

“Just get the fuck out of here,” he stepped to the side and you ducked around him, all but running back to the room you’d claimed as your own.

You settled in on the bed with your new book, resting it on your knees and trying to forget how mad Joel had been just because you dared set foot in his room, as though you didn’t live together once in another life. It had been so easy for him to forget. You’d been so easy for him to forget.

You opened the book and tried to get absorbed in the story but were having a hard time focusing, shifting around on the bed and hoping that a more comfortable position might make it so you could let yourself fall into it. You were changing positions for the third time when something fell out of the book and flitted like a leaf down to the worn quilt. You frowned, picking it up and turning it over in your hands.

It was a picture. A picture of you.

“What?” You whispered to yourself, eyebrows knitting together.

It was a photo you recognized. Derek had it in his bedroom and he’d taken it without you knowing. You were folded into an armchair in his living room, a book in your hands, hair wild with a ribbon in to keep it out of your face. When he’d developed the photo, you remembered the day he’d taken it. One of the few that you had off from both jobs in the QZ. It had been warm that day, you hadn’t bothered to put on a bra or even pants, sitting around Derek’s place in a pair of his boxers and a tank top. He’d fucked you that morning, before it got too hot, and the two of you spent the day not moving much otherwise, not wanting to spend hours sticky with sweat and miserable.

The day stuck out to you, though, not because of the heat or because you got to spend it somewhere besides the clinic or the school. Instead, it was because it reminded you of summer days in Austin with Joel. Trying not to run the AC too much, you sat far apart on the couch wearing as little as possible with Sarah coming and going from the house with friends. He would bring you glasses of ice water or lemonade almost every time he got up, his lips finding your forehead when he pressed the cold glass into your palm, his large hand finding your ankle because he had to be touching you in some way without making both of you miserable in the heat.

And now Joel had a picture from that day, the one where he’d been on your mind the whole time, so much that you’d given up on trying not to think of him.

You weren’t sure how he’d gotten it. Derek may have given him a copy if he’d asked but you didn’t know how he knew it existed. And why would he want a copy in the first place?

You looked a little closer at it, the corners curling, edges peeling. Like it had been held a lot. There was a discolored almost halo around the edges of you, like someone had been tracing over the outline of you over and over again.

There was a sharp knock on your door and you stuffed the photo into the book again.

“What?” You asked, tone softer than it had been when speaking to Joel in years.

“Mind checkin’ this damn wound?” He asked through the door, his voice oddly gentle. “Since you’re here and all. Make yourself useful.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, of course. No problem.”

You made sure the photo was tucked away and set the book on the nightstand, keeping your fingers crossed that Joel didn’t realize which book you’d taken.

***

Joel didn’t like that you’d taken to hiding in Tommy’s old room.

He didn’t like that you were still here. Or so he tried to tell himself. Really, he didn’t like that you were still here without being here, like you were the ghost in his house in the same way it seemed you’d spent most of the last decade. You were just more corporeal now.

He was used to you crossing his mind all the time. Used to the feeling that, any second now, you’d come around the corner as you finished braiding your hair or with a little bottle of nail polish in your hand or a book in fucking French tucked below your arm. He knew what to do with that.

He didn’t know what to do with you actually here, in such close quarters. Especially not when you seemed to find such comfort in just the memory of his fucking brother - his brother who had damn near gotten you killed - and not Joel, who was actually here.

Joel stared down the hall at Tommy’s - your - door. His wound ached. You’d checked it earlier, said there was no sign of infection and that things were coming along well. You refreshed his bandages and he’d try not to think about the way the soft skin of your arm felt when you brushed against his exposed flesh.

That had been hours ago. He hadn’t heard a word from you since, not even the squeak of the mattress as you shifted and moved in ways he knew so well but couldn’t see.

He shoved himself to his feet with a pained grunt and went to the door, the one that seemed to fucking haunt him now. He knocked once.

“Yeah?”

Your voice sounded thick.

“Want a drink?” He asked. You were quiet. He pressed on. “Figured it was better than drinkin’ alone.”

He gave you a minute and was about to give up on you responding when he heard small creaks on the other side of the door before it opened.

“Whatcha got?”

It took a few whiskeys before you stopped being quite so stiff at his kitchen table and Joel pulled out a deck of cards that had to have been old before the world fell apart but had somehow managed to stay complete.

“Game’s Gin,” he said, dealing. “Remember how to play?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not a total idiot, Miller.”

It was strange, drinking around you. Spending time with you in ways that weren’t required, being able to look at you in ways beyond brief, desperate glances driven by the subconscious need to never, ever forget just how you looked. The precise way your eyes were shaped or your brow arched or lips curved, the exact shade of your skin and your hair and your eyes. Because as much as he didn’t want to need these things, he did. He needed to know these parts of you the way a scholar needed to know his subject, with this obsessive, aching drive for more.

It had never been enough before, the little pieces he was able to collect when you and Tess were distracted with other things and he could take in the new way your skin creased around your eyes, and it somehow wasn’t enough now, memorizing the way you pursed your lips as you organized your hand and the way your hair had fallen out of the braid that was tight against your skull.

“Need somethin’ to change into?” Joel asked eventually.

“Hm?” You looked at him over your cards.

“Just…” he nodded to you. “Still wearin’ what you were when we came back from the run. Need somethin’ to change into?”

“Oh,” you looked down at yourself and then shrugged. “I mean, I won’t argue with it but I don’t want to put you out. It’s not like anyone’s getting close enough to smell me. Oh God, please tell me you can’t smell me from across the table…”

“No, Kid,” he laughed a little and took a sip of whiskey. “Can’t… can’t smell you.”

He wondered if, below the grime of the world outside, you still smelled like lavender.

“If you’ve got some stuff I can borrow then,” you shrugged before grabbing a card. Your face lit up a bit and you set a card down before fanning out your cards in front of you. “Gin.”

“Well shit,” he said, looking over your cards. “You win.”

Day 3

He left you something to wear outside your door.

Joel stared at the wall most of the night, telling himself it was because the fucking bullet hole was hurting more than it had been but that was bullshit. It had faded to a dull pain, one that was easily tolerable and certainly not enough to keep him up at night.

No, instead he stared at the wall that he knew you were just beyond. His mind went over and over your face again and again, logging every single facet so he’d know the next time he was away from you for a while. But that wasn’t enough, either. He wanted to hear you breathing as you slept, wanted to salt away that information, too. He needed it, needed to add it to his collection of you.

But you were out of reach. Asleep in his brother’s bed, the place where you’d chosen to be all those years ago and now left Joel wondering if you’d ever really left. If you’d ever have chosen Joel at all or if he’d just been a stop gap, a thing keeping you from Tommy all this time.

It would have made sense, when he considered it. You were always softer and more open than Joel, always more like Tommy in that way. Maybe all he’d ever been was a placeholder.

He was still awake when he heard you get up in the morning, heard you pause at the door before going to the bathroom and starting the shower.

He hoped he’d find your hair in his shower later.

Your hair was down and wet when you emerged, cautiously coming into the kitchen where Joel was making the shittiest excuse for coffee with instant packets that had expired so long ago it seemed like a miracle there was anything usable at all. You were in one of his flannels and sweatpants, the legs cuffed so you wouldn’t trip, your arms crossed tight over yourself.

“Morning,” you said, glancing at him like he was a predator and you were prey.

“Morning,” he said. “Feelin’ better?”

“Yes, actually,” you said. He held a mug out to you and you took it with a slight frown. “Thank you.”

He just nodded stiffly.

“If you want to lie down,” you nodded toward the couch. “I can check your dressings again. The good news is, this might be the last time I really need to do it so…”

Joel shrugged and obeyed, trying not to think about the sense of panic that flared in his chest at the thought of you not touching him anymore.

It was something Joel had found almost impossible to hold within himself. There was this constant yearning, a pull towards you that was as persistent as gravity and twice as strong. He needed to be close enough to touch you, hold you, protect you. He needed to be close enough to love you.

But standing in sharp contrast was the cold threat of you. The painful grip of it always there at the edges when he lived too long in the memory of loving you. It was a cruel and constant thing - one of the few constants Joel had found in his life in the QZ. He could let his mind wander to the memory of you asleep in his arms but, linger there too long, and the memory shifted to you pale and bleeding and nearly dead as he ran with your broken body to the clinic. The thought of you laughing all full and free with your hand on his chest would twist into you reaching for him and screaming as you were dragged away by raiders. Hell, spend too long trying to savor the memory of being deep inside you, the look on your face as you came undone under his touch, and his mind pulled him down into what McCarthy had described doing to you years ago.

All it took was a second, a moment of Joel not protecting you when he should and you could wind up there again. He didn’t know how to live with that. He wasn’t sure he’d ever figured out how to live with loving you at a distance, either. Something that had become harsh and clear in the days the two of you had been locked down in his apartment.

“This is looking good,” you said, nodding to yourself. Your hands were on his stomach. “Think I can trust you not to fuck it up from here, don’t need me messing around with it anymore…”

You got up and held your hand out, helping Joel sit up without pulling too much at his wound.

“Thanks,” he said. “For making sure I don’t drop dead.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

You gave him a tight smile and went back down the hall, Joel frowning after you for a moment before following. He knocked on the door and he heard you sigh before opening it a few seconds later.

“Yes?”

“Don’t…” Joel realized he didn’t really have a good reason to be standing at your door. “Don’t have to keep hidin’ in here. Sure you’re going stir crazy… Just come out here and…”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” You asked, brows raised. “We’ve managed to not kill each other so far, I don’t know that we want to push it.”

“You really think being in the same room is gonna be pushing it?”

You laughed a little and crossed your arms protectively over yourself.

“Honestly? Yeah, kind of. I mean, Joel, come on. This is the most time we’ve spent together just the two of us since my first trip outside the QZ and we both know how that ended…”

“Yeah,” Joel scoffed, his blood getting hot as he saw you standing there, in his brother’s room, next to his brother’s bed. “Ended with you hating me and jumping into bed with my fuckin’ brother…”

“Jesus Christ, you cannot be serious,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Joel…”

“What?” He propped an arm against the door frame, holding himself back from stalking into Tommy’s old room like he wanted to. “That not what fuckin’ happened? You all but disappear for months and the next thing I know you’re with him. What was it, hm? Was I just who you settled for because you thought he wasn’t interested? That it?”

“No!”

“You just waitin’ for a chance to…”

“I was only with him because you left!”

You yelled it at him. You so rarely yelled, usually so measured and soft and kind in damn near everything you did. He went quiet, the silence hanging heavy between you.

“Do you think I was interested in him before?” You asked, quieter this time. “It was always you, Joel. From the day I met you, it was always you and you’re the one who left me. You’re the one who made me live without you after you made me love you and you don’t get to judge me for what I did to survive you hating me. Yeah, I probably fucked up with Tommy, by having him be anything more than a friend but I was so alone because you made me be so alone! You left me, Joel! I’m sorry I didn’t sit there and wait for you to decide you gave a shit again, I’m sorry I tried to find some semblance of a life without you because losing you was going fucking kill me if I didn’t! So stop holding Tommy against me, stop blaming me for what I had to do to survive losing you, what I’m still doing to survive losing you, because out of all the shitty things that have happened in my life that might just be the worst one!”

Your eyes were shiny with tears and you were standing closer to him than he’d really realized until that moment and his hands were on your skin before he fully understood what he was doing. All he knew was he needed to touch you, feel you, taste you.

His lips were on yours and swallowed the small, surprised squeak that slipped from you as he kissed you, mouth hot and needy against you.

He’d expected you to push him back, to be mad or hurt. Instead, you threw your arms around his neck, body curving and arching into his. Your fingers tangled and knotted in his hair and you pressed yourself so tightly against him that he could feel every line of you through his clothes.

“Joel,” you pulled away from him ever so slightly, sounding needy and breathless. “We shouldn’t do this…”

“Why.”

“We don’t work,” you tugged him closer but kept your lips from him. “We just hurt each other. And you have Tess, I have Derek, it’s not…”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he cut you off, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

For half a moment, Joel thought you were going to. But you didn’t. Instead, you kissed him again, a sense of urgency on your lips, like you were trying to devour him and he longed for you to swallow him up until there was nothing left.

He pulled you into the hall, pressing you back against the wall and ignoring the pain at his hip when he did. In that moment, he didn’t care if it killed him. He needed to be inside you, to feel you close and tight around him. Being without you now would be a more painful end than ripping himself open inside, what difference did a bullet hole make?

Joel pushed his leg from his uninjured side between your knees, shoving them apart and pulling your hips down on his thigh. You ground down against him and moaned into his mouth as you worked your core on his leg.

“Fuck,” you breathed, pulling ever so slightly away from him, your pupils blown and lips swollen. “Joel, you’re hurt, we shouldn’t…”

“Don’t care,” he pressed his mouth to your throat, earning him a delicious moan that hung in his ears like syrup on the tongue. “Need you, Baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad…”

You clutched yourself closer to him, rocking your hips on him as he pulled you back from the wall and maneuvered you to his room, his bed, the place he woke up every day and looked for you, some part of his subconscious knowing that he belonged next to you.

Your fingers pulled at his shirt, tugging it up and over his head before casting it aside and he nudged you onto the bed, taking his shirt off your body, too.

“Joel…” you were sitting back on your elbows, the soft fullness of your chest bared to him as he crawled between your legs. “I can’t… I can’t do this and go back to being nothing to you, Joel, I can’t…”

He looked in your eyes, a pain in them that he found sadly familiar now but it was harsher than he was used to, like you couldn’t keep it contained now so it was laid bare.

“Oh, Baby,” he breathed, his hands finding your waist. You closed your eyes at his touch, breath catching in your throat. “You’re everything to me, everything. Always have been.”

His lips moved to your throat, kissing and biting at the tender skin there as he pulled your pants down and off, you lifting your hips to help before putting your hand down his front to take hold of his cock with a moan. Joel moaned, too. He couldn’t help it, your touch was burned into his memory, what he longed for more than anything else and you were touching him. Your thumb grazed the head of his cock and he shuddered at the contact, whole body on fire with aching and desperate want.

“Need you,” he panted into your lips. “Fuck, need inside you…”

“Good,” you pressed your body against his and he felt his head graze your soft mound. “Because I need you, too. Never stopped…”

He kissed you and pushed you into the bed before pressing his cock into your wet heat. You moaned as you took him into yourself, your back arching. You were so warm and tight around him, Joel had to focus to not come from just the feel of your body clutching onto him.

“Goddamn,” he looked down to where he was buried in you to the root, your fingers sinking into his bicep as you panted for breath. He could feel you breathing, feel your heartbeat from inside you. Why had he wasted so much of his life fighting this when he could have been with you instead? In that moment - when he was buried deep inside of you and he could feel you everywhere, in everything - the fear he’d been so desperately fighting against faded to nothing. There was just you and everything you held, the whole of all his wanting looking up at him in quiet desperation. “Forgot… forgot just how good you feel, holy fuck.”

“Need you to move,” your nails dug into his arm. “Fuck, please Joel, need you to move, please…”

He wasn’t about to say no, even as your already tight walls clenched around him. He dropped his head to your chest and pulled out of you almost entirely, until just his head was left within you, before thrusting back in hard and deep. He kissed you again as he did, swallowing your needy sounds.

Joel tried to hold back, the echo of some pain in his body and his mind, but he was too overwhelmed by you for it to last long. You met his every thrust, working your hips back up against his own as he fucked into you.

“Fuck, Joel,” you wrapped one arm around his shoulders, digging your fingertips into his skin as he felt you getting so tight around him it almost hurt. “Fuck, I’m gonna… Joel, I’m gonna come, I can’t…”

“Do it,” he slid an arm below your waist and pulled you tight and flush to his body, needing to feel as much of your skin as he possibly could. “Come for me, come for me, Baby, need to feel you, have to feel you, fuck Baby…”

You whimpered and keened as your tight channel pulsed around his thick cock, squeezing him so tight it was like your body was pulling his own orgasm out of him.

“I’m comin’ Baby,” he pressed into you deep and hard and you clung to him as he came undone, emptying himself into you. “I’m comin’, fuck, I’m comin’ so fucking hard, Goddamn…”

He collapsed on top of you, his cock still twitching inside you. He couldn’t remember the last time he came that hard, felt quite that drained when he was done. His head rested on your chest, your heartbeat heavy against his cheek as your fingers trailed through his hair and his cock softened inside you.

“Fuck,” he was still panting for breath when he pressed a kiss to your breast bone and slid from your body, the pain at his hip suddenly back with a vengeance, as he collapsed beside you.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” you said quietly, turning your head to look at him.

“Baby…”

“We shouldn’t,” you said, your voice thick. “You’re hurt…”

“Good think you’re a doctor.”

You glared at him.

“We just blew up our entire lives, Joel,” you said quietly, eyes wet. “I’m with Derek and I just fucked you because, what, you loved me once and felt bad letting me get shot in the QZ? This was stupid, this was so…”

“No,” he shook his head.

“No?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “No what?”

“No to all of it,” he said. “I didn’t blow up a damn thing. I just finally was able to admit to myself that there isn’t anything to blow up without you, don’t want any of it without you.”

“Joel…”

“Been too scared of it all to admit that,” he pressed on. “But I can’t keep living like that, Baby. I can’t. And I don’t think you can, either.

“We’ve already wasted too much damn time,” he continued. “But I’m not wasting another minute of it, not when I could be with you. Not sayin’ there’s not shit to figure out - pretty sure we got a decade’s worth of it - but don’t ask me to waste more time. Please. Not when it comes to you.”

Your eyes held his as you reached a hand forward and carefully, delicately, cupped his cheek, your thumb tracing his cheekbone. He brushed his lips against the inside of your wrist, feeling the flutter of your pulse against his mouth.

“Think we can figure it out?” You asked. You sounded so uncertain, so afraid.

Joel’s large hand covered your own, holding you against his chin.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “With you, think we can figure anything out.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #send asks #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #lavender #smut fic #joel miller x oc

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e-rated-beardo · 16 days ago

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2024 fic roundup

@cheeseplants created this ask/tag game, and I've been tagged by @addledmongoose and @harlotofupdog, here we gooo

What fandoms do you write in?

200% Good Omens. First proper fandom experience. First thing that forced (aye, forced) me to write a fanfic. Huge obsession.

If I were to write for anything else, it might be Our Flag Means Death, or Doctor Who, or perhaps House M.D. or some flavour of Star Trek. Or a crossover between one of those and GO. I'm a completely normal amount of obsessed with Aziraphale and Crowley.

How many words have you published in 2024?

*goes to ao3 stats page*

*hits "2024"*

...220,232 words

What the whole entire fuck!?

And there's another three chapters left on Scorn to go before New Year's, so we'll comfortably surpass 231k. How in the actual fuck is that possible.

What is your greatest achievement this year?

Getting this comment:

What are your favourite top three fics you wrote this year?

Not Single Spies (the third part of Nice And Ominous, which can be read on its own or with the two preceding parts); The Co-pilot; and I'm going to say Scorn and the Saint-Maker, although that's far from finished, because it's been the entirety of my past half-year.

Not Single Spies (part III of Nice And Ominous: a reluctant eschatology of the Second Attempt) Rated E; 61k words Second Coming/post-S2 fic; plot-driven

There is some smut in this, but it's only three sections and they're all skippable. The rest of the story is rated T with no major warnings.

The Co-pilot Rated E; 4k words Human-ish AU; shameless smut

An un-English heatwave, a few open shirt buttons and the demonic entity possessing an innocent Londoner conspire to make long-time friends Az and Tony finally get over themselves and bone.

Scorn and the Saint-Maker Rated E; 97k words so far (WIP) Human not-actually-AU; sorta-post-S2; plot-driven, smutty, mathsy; four plots in a trench coat

Doctor Crowley has turned truancy into an art form, lecturing only under sufferance. Doctor Fell has signed up for his undergraduate course and has no plans to let him slack off. When a faculty member is found dead, our heroes start forming uneasy suspicions. What was the occult symbol drawn next to the body? Why does it feel like they’ve known each other forever? How is Crowley supposed to tell police that he thinks the murderer is a demon he summoned 35 years ago? And what about that statue that’s the spitting image of the victim?

They've been turned human. Now they're academics in Scotland. Romance, weirdness and (skippable!) smut ensue. The fic has some warnings, so check the tags.

What was your biggest pit of despair moment?

I had a nasty week in August, when I got depressive symptoms as a side effect of a necessary medication and spent ~10 days convinced everything I did was shit.

I'm also kind of in one at the moment, but without the pharmaceutical explanation/excuse. I'm just... urgh. Things are stuck. It's. It's a thing. Idk.

What have you learned?

You're expecting me to list everything I've learnt related to writing and fandom and fandom writing in less than an entire academic essay? Are you out of your entire mind!? (❤️)

Big things: I've learnt that I do have the capacity to finish big stories; that things I write are good enough that people want to read them and look forward to reading them and give me all these amazing compliments on them and go slightly feral sometimes; and that if I'm enthusiastic enough about maths, I can trick some folks who didn't even like maths into sort of liking maths.

Smaller things: A smattering of fancy vocabulary. How to paint with watercolour. How to draw Michael Sheen's nose and David Tennant's lower lip. The fact that I have a massive praise kink. More than I knew there was to know about em-dashes and en-rules. Heaps of random facts about the Bible, angels, demonology, poetry, Scotland Yard, Shakespeare, wine, dicks, queer identities I don't have, and queer identities I do have. And a bunch about how to watch/read/consume media with my eyes open and my brain switched on.

What fic did you want to do but never made it off the ground?

I still low-key want to continue The Co-pilot into... something. And That Berry Ice Cream from last December has been sort of asking for a follow-up, which just hasn't happened.

I had this idea, shortly after that week in November that the Americans don't like to think about, for something short, snappy, and a little cathartic; a fuck the system-type deal, both to that political shitshow and to all the sad crap fucking over the GO fandom lately, and I started to write it but got stuck not even a thousand words in. Maybe it just wasn't that good of an idea.

Did you beta any fics? Any favs you want to shout out?

I did my first toe-dipping of a beta read just the other month, for Easy Access by @ModernDayKlutz. I've not dared to jump into beta:ing properly for fear that my old flakiness will resurface and make me disappoint a person I've made a promise to, but this one seemed contained enough that I felt I could contribute. Especially with Kilt Knowledge™️.

What three fics have you read this year that you love?

THREE!??!?

All right, so I'm looking through my bookmarks, and, as it turns out, That Fic I Keep Recommending Basically All The Time was one I only read - or at least, finished reading - early this year!

Mint Tea by @copperplatebeech - 31.5k words; rated E - is one of those fics that half the fandom have heard about, right? I don't know if it happened to hit me at a formative point in my fandom life or if it's simply That Good, which is also very likely, but thirsty-well-hung-Dom!Crowley lives in my head for free and will not move out, it seems. It's scorching and funny and sweet, and when I say it gave me the idea to try some... things... which I hadn't tried before, in... certain parts of my life... 🔥🫠

Fanfic, uh... changes lives, y'all! Ahem, well then, onwards:

Come as you are by hiya_angel - 4k words, rated E - this gave me some of the experience reflected in that gorgeous comment above. The angst is minimal and the smut is gorgeous and wonderfully sweet and I adore this fandom for making me feel hope again and again for all this trans stuff that's still comparatively new to me.

Submitted for Your Consideration by @zehwulf - 19k words, rated E - contains possibly the most spectacular description of subspace I've read in... ever? And when it comes to bowling me over with porn, I could probably just pick anything by ZehWulf because whatever story I pick up it ends with me sitting there absolutely sweating. And feeling fuzzy inside. And maybe also crying for joy.

HERE'S A FOURTH ACTUALLY, YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME:

Lucid by @twilightcitysky - 35k words, rated E. It's unfinished and I barely even care at this point, because something about this fic changed me. It's So. Fucking. Good. It's one of those (rare? Not in this fandom! But a little rare, probably) stories where the smut is absolutely plot-crucial. It's also excruciatingly clever and angstier than I thought I would like (I was wrong! I LIKE IT) and the characters are great. And it's written just beautifully.

What ideas are percolating for next year?

More Scorn. (Don't trust the projected chapter count. Knowing myself, there'll be more of them. Or I might be done with less. It's a completely unqualified approximation.)

More Co-pilot, maybe? (I have Ideas.)

A slightly more fantastical fic that goes into a smut genre I haven't really explored at all before. And which has made me research goats' pupils.

Plus, I want to look into making podfics more. Maybe get better at it. Maybe even try out doing voice work for money? (I'm talking to a guy, it's completely wild, but damn it might be a thing I could do)

Who do you want to thank?

@addledmongoose (quite unintentionally) brought me to Tumblr. (She wrote a review of Nice And Ominous, and it was so lovely, I wanted to go there and like it and respond to it properly, so I just had to create an account, you know? No other options.) I'm so glad I'm here.

@bakingcat made excitable comments about my linguistics-nerdery-snuck-into-sex-scene and made me realise you can actually make friends in fandom.

@klikandtuna wrote the fic which I was a completely normal amount of obsessed with this summer, and which led to (via an instance of fanwork of the fanwork) me being flooded with love from strangers one random Friday and getting put in contact with that voice work guy. We also had the most wonderfully grown-up conversation about a tricky thing, for which I am so very proud and grateful.

@harlotofupdog came straight over to read Scorn almost right when I started posting it - I can't quite remember now, but the timing isn't the important bit - and wrote some absolutely glorious comments. D'you know you're the first writer whose work I'd already been painfully obsessed with, who's also expressed obsession with mine? D'you know how bloody cool that is??

And finally the unhinged smutgoblins of The Beta Fishes The Big Fucks server - idk who to thank anymore because I can't recall who invited me (it was past 3am and I'd just watched Michael Sheen shirtless for an hour, you'll have to forgive a guy) but all of y'all are weirdos and I love to hang out with yous and draw dicks and discuss writing and scream about Rivals and definitely not put mustaches on anyone.

No-pressure tags (in addition to everyone tagged above - please feel free to consider yourselves tagged-tagged if you like) without checking who's already been tagged in this before, because that's A Lot of Work that I don't want to do:

@wiblywoblytimeywimey754 @brenna @majnoonathelibrarian annnnd @kiratastic, pretty sure this could be modified to work for an art perspective too? Right? (If you want)

#tag game #2024 fic roundup #tagging too many people so half the tags probably won't even be tags (kindly fu tumblr </3)#good omens #fanfic #my fics #fic recs #e-rated #(mostly)#getting a little soppy #good omens fandom #GO fandom

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white-wolf-buckaroo · 10 months ago

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Chapter 1: Percy becomes supreme lord of the Bathroom

First official chapter for 'In his own twisted way', my daughter of ares fic! <3

Word count: 8800 ish words

Warnings: none I can think of (english is not my first language, though, don't kill me if there are any mistakes please)

Updates will be tuesdays! <3

Fic masterlist here!

Olympians. The Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Greece, powerful, strong, eternal, immortals, seen as myths and stories told throughout the centuries. However, they are no myths, but real, and they still exist to the date. Omnipotent. Immortal. Unreachable.

Or, maybe not so out of reach: they’ve watched generations of mortals roaming the earth, and they often walk among them, disguised as one of them. But still, gods and goddesses, strong and powerful, and a different race from the common humans. They have lived thousands of lives, interfering at will in mortal affairs, seeing the world as their battlefield, and the people living there as their pawns. Because the gods can’t break the holy rules, but mortals… that’s a loophole many, if not all of the gods and goddesses have used in their favour throughout history. And because they needed powerful weapons as their pawns to execute their demands, they created half-bloods. Demigods. Mortal descendants born out of their union with a mortal companion, capable of fighting in the divine realm of existence, while living in the mortal world.

And so, over the years, decades, and centuries, demigods were born into the mortal world, some even reaching Olympus, the glory, kleos, and becoming part of the mystery that surrounds the story of the gods.

Myths aside, half-bloods still exist. Half mortal, half god, all real. And even if it sounds like a privilege to be a part of the gods bloodline… well, not many demigods will agree with that. Not only because they are in constant danger, it’s scary, and most of the times it only got them killed in very nasty ways, but also because they didn’t really fit into the human world, and they had to live up to their parents expectations, all the time. To make them proud, to honour them, and to show off their power.

And all of that is pretty difficult to do when the gods turn out to be shitty parents who don’t really deserve all that self-sacrifice.

Emily wasn’t indifferent to all of that.

As one of camps’ longest all year-rounders, she was well versed in the art of being the child of an absent godly parent. She trained, she learned, and she fought for glory, yes, but most importantly, to be worthy of her father’s attention and love. At twelve years old, she was one of the best fighters of her cabin: the children of Ares. Only her older sister, Clarisse, reached her level of skill; they fought on many occasions, both in the arena and outside of it, always to prove that they were better than the other one.

But Emily didn’t really care about being better than Clarisse, not really. She only trained, and fought and worked so hard to be the top warrior of her cabin, if not camp, to make her father proud. And she hoped that, if she would actually make him proud, she would finally see him again.

Not that she hadn’t seen him since he had left her at camp half-blood, no. Every winter, during the winter solstice ceremony, she encountered him. But he kept to himself, every single time for the last years. He didn’t acknowledge her or any of her siblings, and when the presentations were over, he always ran out of the room before she or her brothers or sisters could try to talk to him.

That’s why she had hope that if she stood out, maybe he would love her again like he did in the past.

“Are you listening to me, or are you daydreaming again?”

Emily turned her gaze to her left, where Annabeth was looking over at her questioningly. They were laying on the grass in a clearing of the forest, the afternoon light giving a golden glow to the top of the trees surrounding them. They were done with training for that day, having had a friendly competition about who of them both would hit more bullseyes at archery practice; Emily won, like she usually did, although Annabeth was also very skilled – Ares’ kids usually had a better aim for throwing weapons, or something like that. It’s what Annabeth always said when Emily ended up with a higher score than her.

“I am listening to you” Emily shifted her gaze back up to the sky, watching a round and fluffy cloud fly by “But I was also thinking about dinner. I can do both”

“Sure. So what was I talking about?”

“Something boring about an architect you read a book about”

“That was five minutes ago!” Annabeth laughed, shaking her head “And it’s not boring”

“Why do you think I started daydreaming? To not fall asleep!”

“You’re incorrigible” she huffed, although she was also smiling slightly.

“But I’m still your best friend, so I must be doing something right”

“I guess” Annabeth shrugged, sticking her tongue out to Emily. They both giggled “I was talking about capture the flag”

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous” Emily scoffed, looking at her “You’ve won three times in a row. You’ll manage a fourth”

“No one has won four consecutive rounds in a very long time. Everyone is waiting to watch me fail”

“That’s not true. I want to see you succeed”

“Shouldn’t you be on your teams side?” she raised one of her eyebrows, sarcastically. Annabeth fought with the rest of the Athena cabin, and Emily with the Ares cabin. The other cabins allied to one or another of them, but the main rivals in battle where always Ares and Athena – seemed logic, considering they were both deities of war “Don’t tell me you’ll just give me your flag. I don’t want an easy win”

“Of course I won’t do that. I will fight, tooth and claw, to get my victory. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t be happy if you win. You deserve it”

“Thanks, Emi”

“You welcome, Annie”

“Now… as I was saying a few minutes ago-“ she started talking about the architect again, and Emily groaned, sitting up “Hey, I’m trying to educate you. Better listen”

She wasn’t going to do that, not today. Fortunately, she found her escape: Luke was approaching the clearing where they lay, and he waved at her when he spotted Emily watching him.

He had arrived at camp with Annabeth five years ago, when Emily was seven. He was older than the girls, and he was like an older brother for the both of them; sure, they had their respective siblings at each of their cabins (Ares’, Athena’s and Hermes’), but the bond these three shared was genuine, and went beyond their heritage.

“It’s almost time for dinner!” he called out, a few steps away “Come on!”

They rose up, and met Luke halfway there. All three of them wore camps’ official orange t-shirt, like everyone else, and their summer camp necklace’s rested above the fabric, with the beads they earned at the end of each summer adding various pops of colour. However, they didn’t have identical pendants: Luke had five beads, like Annabeth, but she also had added her father’s college ring to the necklace after he sent it to her. Emily’s had not five, but six beads, and also a silver ring.

Ares had given it to her… a long time ago. When things had still been better between them.

“How’s my favourite duo doing?” although the three of them usually hang out together, there was always a duo in a trio “Heard you had fun at archery”

“I did. Annabeth not so much” Emily grinned at her friend, who rolled her eyes “Hey, let me have my win. If I competed against anyone from cabin seven I wouldn’t stand a chance”

They greeted some satyrs on their way to the dining area, and then separated to their respective tables: there were strict rules against sitting at another god’s table, so they were forced to eat with their siblings. Emily had a good relationship with most of her brothers and sisters, at least a cordial one; none of them were as close to her as Annabeth or Luke were, but they got along nicely. Then there were others, those of her siblings who stood more to Clarisse, her rival, who weren’t as nice to Emily. She wasn’t naturally prone to being mean to anyone, even if they weren’t friendly towards her, but after years of constant disrespect, Emily had had enough, and they knew that she could set her foot down if they caused her too much trouble.

Dinner went as usual, with camp being full of demigods, so the pavilion was bustling with voices and conversations, even if there were tables unoccupied, like the one’s for the children of the big three (who weren’t allowed to have children anymore, as they were too powerful), or the one dedicated to Artemis (which was only used by the goddess’ hunters if they ever visited camp… which usually never happened).

Chiron was also back at camp after being absent for some weeks at the end of the school year; Annabeth and Emily had been theorizing about the reasons for his departure, as he had never left camp for so long in the years they had been there.

“Do you think some demigod got into trouble on a quest and he has went out to help?”

“Well, maybe… but it has to be something important if Chiron himself had to go. He never leaves camp; he’s almost like… part of the décor or something”

“What if he left because… the quest he’s promising me is arriving?”

“You mean the one he’s been promising you for years? The one fated to a new demigod we haven’t even met yet?” Emily knew of her best friend’s aspirations, of her dreams. Annabeth was one of the strongest warriors at camp half-blood, head counselor at her cabin, and one of the smartest persons she knew. The only way left to prove herself, was to go on a quest, but Chiron had never allowed her to. She would only be able to when, according to the centaur, a demigod arrived who was fated to go on a quest not even Chiron could prevent – Annabeth had received that information under strict confidentiality, so of course only she and her best friends knew of it.

“Well, it could be. It’s been five years. How much longer can it take?”

“Keep studying the newbies, then. Maybe one of them will be the one”

But none of the new half-bloods at camp that summer seemed to be… something special – not that being literally children of Greek gods didn’t make them special. They just weren’t what Annabeth was waiting for.

That is, until one day, or specifically, one night, a new demigod made it to Long Island.

When Emily went to bed that evening, she didn’t expect to be woken up by a commotion before sunrise; it had been raining during the night, although it didn’t rain directly at camp because of the special weather conditions they had there, with the faint sound of water droplets echoed inside the cabins, almost soothing, until another sound joined its melody: frantic screaming, that came from someone running down the hill that led to Thalia’s tree.

Emily and her siblings made their way out of their cabin, like everyone else did, curious to know what had happened, and they saw Grover, dressed in a human attire, completely drenched from head to hooves. He ran to the big house, screaming and limping a bit, and soon after he got there, he walked out alongside Chiron, who dismissed everyone back to their beds, except the head counselors from each cabin.

At the Ares cabin, Clarisse was the head counselor. It wasn’t a title Emily really craved, but the power it held gave her sister some advantages, like right at that moment, being able to go alongside Chiron up the hill to see what had happened, while Emily had to stay behind. Annabeth was head counselor of her cabin, just as Luke was of his, so they both left as well, leaving her alone with a pout.

When Annabeth came back, though, she went straight to Emily, who was already waiting for her sitting in front of Athena’s cabin; there was no way in hell she would ask Clarisse about what had happened if she could just ask her best friend.

“He’s the one. He has to be”

Apparently, they had found an unconscious boy who looked around their age up at the hill. According to Grover, they were trying to make it to camp, when the Minotaur showed up, and attacked them; the boy, whose name was Percy, fought the monster, and he won.

Emily couldn’t deny that that was impressive. She had never fought monsters besides the ones she found at camp’s forests’ or the ones they sometimes brought in for training, but she knew it wasn’t an easy task, let alone if you didn’t have any experience.

“Grover said Percy’s mom was also with them” Annabeth grimaced “Grover believes that… the Minotaur killed her”

“Oh” Emily had lost her own mother when she was little, and she still remembered the pain of losing her and not having her there; she still felt it from time to time. Her thoughts went to Percy, as she knew it would be hard for him “Wait… he only believes the monster killed her? What do you mean?”

“They searched for her, but they didn’t find anything anywhere down the hill. Grover said that… he saw her vanish, like the monsters do when you kill them, just as when the Minotaur was trying to squish her”

“That’s not how humans die”

“I know” Annabeth bit her lip, deep in thought “So many questions and so little answers… But I have a strong feeling about this, Emi. He could be the demigod I was waiting for”

Said demigod spent the rest of the day, and the following night, sleeping in the infirmary. Annabeth, embracing her rebellious side, wanted to go see him herself that evening, and Emily tagged along, full of curiosity for the new boy.

“That’s him?”

“Is there anyone else unconscious here that I’m not seeing?” it was thundering above camp, the sounds of the storm muffling their voices.

“Hush, you” Emily frowned, watching the boy “Is he…?”

“Yeah, he’s drooling” Percy kind of blinked his eyes open then, catching a glimpse of Annabeth standing at his bedside; he asked her where he was, and the only thing she came up with saying was ‘you drool when you sleep’. He looked baffled at her, mumbling a ‘huh?’, and then he fell back into dreamland.

“That was a perfect meet cute moment you two had there, Annie”

“Now you, hush”

The next morning, after breakfast, Luke took both Annabeth and Emily to the side, and told them that he had met Percy.

“He’s staying with us until he gets claimed” that was standard protocol for newcomers who didn’t know who their godly parents were, as Hermes was, amongst other things, the god of travellers “He seemed… pretty rough. No one can blame him though; fighting the minotaur, losing his mom, and what he thought was his life… all of that in one night. It is tough, but so seems he”

“Did he really have the minotaur’s horn? I heard Chris talking about it” Luke answered yes to Emily’s question, and she whistled “Not bad for an untrained demigod”

They didn’t see Percy for the rest of the day, though, not even during the meals; he ate at his cabin after Luke went back after lunch or dinner with something for him. Apparently not even Grover could get him to talk much.

Emily imagined that if she had arrived at camp under the same circumstances as him, she probably wouldn’t act all that different; her case was also one of the rarest ones of them all, as not many of the demigods had been personally escorted by their godly parent to camp. She felt empathy for Percy, wishing he would settle in quickly.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow” she told Annabeth, before they went to bed “You should come too. Get to know him if you think he’s the one”

“I’ll stick to my observations for now. You can debrief me later about what you think of him after you guys talk”

“Sure thing, ma’am, yes, ma’am”

Percy walked out of the Hermes cabin alongside Luke, Chris Rodriguez and other Hermes’ children the next morning, wearing his orange camp half-blood shirt and his (for now) bare necklace. Emily watched him from the entrance to the Ares cabin, and she made her way towards them when she spotted Clarisse walking in the same direction; she was accompanied by her most loyal supporters, which were some of hers and Emily’s siblings, and she had that smile on her face that Emily knew all too well. She was about to do something bad.

Clarisse bumped her shoulder against Percy’s on purpose, and when he exclaimed ‘hey!’, she shoved him on the chest, and he ended up on the ground. Emily reached them when Chris helped Percy up, while Clarisse was asking her audience if that was really the kid who had killed the minotaur.

“Look, you want attention around here, dummy? You better be ready for it when it comes” she pretended to shove Percy again, and he jumped back, defensive. Clarisse only laughed, until she saw Emily appearing behind the rookie.

“Back off, Clarisse”

“Or what? Are you gonna call daddy to lecture me?” she mocked her, laughing again, accompanied by their siblings’ mocking snickers.

“I’ll just win again next time we fight at the arena” this time it was Emily smiling victoriously “And I’ll ask Luke to join me. It’ll be fun, don’t you think?”

Clarisse only huffed, and she walked away followed by her congregation. Luke high-fived Emily, while the rest of the Hermes’ kids dispersed as well.

“Well she seems nice” said Percy sarcastically pointing at Clarisse’s back.

“Ares kids” Luke rested his hands on his hips, also looking back at the girl who had just left “They come by it, honestly. Except Emily, of course… unless you steal her dessert” he smiled at his friend, and she took that as the clue to introduce herself.

“I’m Emily, by the way” she waved at Percy, now feeling slightly awkward “As Luke said, I’m in cabin five. Ares”

“So that girl is your sister?”

“Technically half-sister, but yeah. She can be… a bit difficult if she wants to. Sorry for that”

“That’s a way of putting it nicely” Percy had met many, many bullies in the last few years; he had been at plenty of schools, and some of them he couldn’t even really recall, but he remembered every single bully “Why doesn’t she mess with you two?”

“She knows better”

“Luke’s the strongest swordsman at camp” explained Chris, who had sticked around “And Emily has been her rival since the know each other. Always competing to be the best of their cabin, at everything”

“So… you mean that they leave you alone because of glory?” Luke had been explaining the concept of what glory (or kleos, in Greek), meant to the heroes, that is, the demigods; if you had kleos, you had fame, and the people knew that you had done something to be respected “So if I get glory, Clarisse wouldn’t mess with me either?” Luke said ‘exactly’, although Emily knew better than that; she knew her sister better than Luke did: Clarisse would still mess with Percy even if he gained kleos, but maybe she just wouldn’t do it everywhere, at any hour, and all alone against him “And my dad’s got no choice but to claim me!”

“That’s something you can’t control” Emily looked Percy in the eyes, shaking her head “You can’t just… force the gods to do anything. Trust me. It doesn’t work like that”

“Well, yeah, but… it would make it harder for him to pretend I don’t exist and not claim me, right?”

He seemed to have a point.

As Percy’s current cabin counselor, Luke took it upon himself to introduce the new boy to all the activities at camp half-blood – this is, with Emily’s help, of course.

“A good source of glory are feats of skill. We just got to find out what you’re good at”

They took Percy to archery practice, where Apollo’s children excelled. When he ended up shooting his arrow at the opposite side where he had to, almost hitting a bunch of demigods standing there (now, laying on the ground to avoid the flying arrow), they figured he didn’t belong in cabin seven.

“Skill comes natural, yes, but training is also important” Emily showed Percy how to properly use the bow (especially to know how to not accidentally almost kill everyone around him), hitting almost perfectly the bullseye “Even if you’re not initially good at something, if you work on it, you’ll improve”

“How long have you been training?” Percy thought she looked his age, maybe a bit younger, but she couldn’t be older than twelve.

“Since I was six. That’s when I first got to camp, and I always stay for the full term, so I’ve gotten many more practice hours than the average summer campers”

“You’ve been living here since you were six?” he couldn’t believe it “For real?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go, and there are monsters outside of camp, so I need the training”

“So you’ve never been outside of here in like… five years?”

“Six years, and no. Chiron sometimes takes us out on… field trips, I guess. And then there’s the winter solstice ceremony, and other gatherings half-bloods can attend”

They went to the strawberry fields, but Percy’s gardening didn’t improve the growth of plants in any special way, so he definitely wasn’t a Dionysus kid (for which Percy seemed very relieved about).

“So… Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“No, I mean, your name” Emily talked to him while they walked back to the more secluded part of the camp, on their way to the forges, where Hephaestus kids worked “I’ve never met a Percy. I remember that… when I was really little, at my mom’s, she would show me these movies and… I think there was one where there was a dog named Percy”

“I… uh…cool. But my mom told me that she named me after Perseus. You know, the hero who killed Medusa. There is a statue of him in the Met museum”

“I know who he is, don’t worry. He’s technically my uncle. Well, mine, and from most people here. Maybe yours too!”

“It still feels kinda weird to me, all of this” he lowered his voice as they kept talking, seriousness invading his expression “I’ve only ever had my mom. Where was my dad when we needed him? The rest of the gods? All you people?”

“Those are the questions most demigods ask themselves once they get here” Luke piped up from a few feet away, looking sadly at him “Why didn’t they tell me sooner? Why wasn’t my dad with us? Why does it have to be me?” his words resonated with Percy’s feelings deeply “But now you’re not by yourself anymore. You have us. And who cares where our parents may be, as long as we have each other”

“Thanks… I guess”

They didn’t have much success at the forges. Percy started out well… until he accidentally threw a burning piece of metal over to a pile of fabric, that burst into flames. Luke sneakily got the three of them out of there before it got worse, and before anyone could notice they were gone, pretending that they didn’t have anything to do with that.

“So… not Hephaestus, apparently” Percy made a face, defeated. They were at the dining hall again, eating at their respective tables, so Emily was now at the Ares table, and him, Luke and Chris at Hermes’ “Is there a Greek god of disappointment? Maybe someone should ask him if he’s missing a kid”

“We’re gonna find the thing that you’re good at. I know it”

Percy heard some invisible bells chiming, and suddenly everyone from the Hermes tables was standing up, grabbing their plates.

“It’s our turn” said Luke “Burnt offerings. The gods like the smell, so it gets their attention before you say a prayer”

“They like the smell of burnt Mac and Cheese?”

“They like the smell of begging”

Luke explained to Percy that in order to get the deities’ attention, he had to burn what he would miss the most, because that way they would know that he meant what he was about to say, and they would listen.

Emily was still watching them from her own table, when she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

“Don’t turn around” a voice whispered. It was Annabeth. She was invisible using the magical Yankees hat her mother, Athena, had gifted her “What do you think of him?”

That’s how things were between Emily and Annabeth: together they shared brains and strength, and they relied on each other for everything. In cases like this, particularly, Annabeth studied from afar, contemplating the facts, while Emily ‘got her hands dirty’, studying up close.

“He isn’t sure where he fits into all of this” Emily mumbled, pretending she chewed on some bread. She wasn’t in the mood for someone questioning her for talking alone out loud “He doesn’t know if this is really his place”

“It is. He wouldn’t have been able to cross the barrier if it wasn’t”

“That’s not what I mean. He’s… insecure. And angry. At his dad, and everyone who never told him about any of this. And he’s also grieving his mom, which doesn’t make the rest any easier”

“I’ll keep an eye on him”

Emily had practice for capture the flag in the afternoon, so she didn’t see Percy anymore until dinner, where he didn’t look any better than during lunch. He disappeared early after the offerings, and she shared a look with Luke when he caught her watching their table.

The Ares cabin had two tables at the dining hall, and Emily never sat with Clarisse; they were like two different teams under the same roof. When they weren’t fighting, both sisters ignored each other, but that doesn’t mean that Emily wasn’t alert for any suspicious moves on her part, like that evening, when Clarisse and two of their siblings were also watching Percy with too much interest.

She knew that Annabeth was also keeping an eye on the boy, so she hoped that if Clarisse was pretending to do what she liked to call her “initiation ceremony” to Percy, Annabeth would be able to prevent her sister from dunking Percy’s head in a toilet before it was too late.

Emily would also try to avoid that, of course. She snuck out of her cabin, like she had done hundreds, if not thousands of times before, and she searched for Clarisse and her minions, who hadn’t even returned to their cabin after dinner even though it was pitch black outside. Percy was also nowhere in sight, and she started to become worried, making her way to the bathhouse, when a loud noise coming from said place alerted her senses.

Hiding behind a nearby tree, accompanied by the owls’ hooting and the faint sound of crickets chirping, Emily saw how her sister and two more of Ares’ children ran back outside, completely drenched in water, anger written all over their face. When they were far enough, Annabeth removed her baseball cap, standing outside of the bathhouse, and she looked around until she spotted Emily.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked her friend, making her way over to join her.

“You’re my best friend. I just did” that was fair enough.

They entered together the bathhouse, where the floor was now flooded, and some faucets were spilling even more water non-stop. A door to one of the toilets’ was completely destroyed, and the wood that was once said door floated now around in the water, in dozens of pieces. Percy stood in the middle of it all, not a single drop of water on him, looking completely clueless. He spotted the two girls at the door when he turned around, both with their arms crossed, mirroring each other perfectly.

“I can explain” he said, warily. Although, he really couldn’t.

“No you can’t”

“…okay. I can’t” he looked at Emily, who he knew, of course, and then at Annabeth. She looked familiar “Wait. I know you”

“No, you don’t”

“Yeah, I do. You were there… that night in the infirmary” Emily hid her smile, remembering how those two had had their meet cute moment “Weren’t you?”

“Yes” this time, she went with the truth “I’m Annabeth”

“Are you stalking me, Annabeth?”

“Yes”

“Okay… Wait, Emily, were you stalking me too?”

“Yes” she shrugged, smiling slightly. She had done it for Annabeth, though, and at that precise moment, because she knew her sister had been up to something, but she didn’t owe him any explanation.

“Why?”

“We were waiting to see if something like this would happen” Emily pointed at the chaos that was now the bathhouse, reassembling a pond.

“So I’d know if you could help me” followed Annabeth.

“With what?” Percy wasn’t understanding much.

“Win capture the flag”

The three of them made their way back to the cabins after that brief conversation, without giving Percy any more explanations, so that they wouldn’t get caught in the flooded bathroom and be blamed for it. Annabeth entered her cabin the first, at the side of the Goddesses cabins, while Percy and Emily made their way to the opposite array of buildings, of the male Gods.

“What did Annabeth mean with ‘Capture the flag’?”

“It’s a game. Ask Luke, he’ll explain everything” Emily only smiled at him, thinking his confused frown looked funny.

“Oh… okay” he remained silent for a few seconds “Look… I didn’t mean to attack your siblings. I’m sorry for that” Percy whispered his apology to her, so to not be heard by anyone; it was past curfew so they shouldn’t be roaming the woods at that hour “Although I’m not really sure I was the one who… actually did that. The water just… disappeared inside the pipeline, and then it shot back up hitting Clarisse and the others”

“The water protected you from them” she bit her lip, thoughtful “I’m sorry that they ambushed you”

“It’s okay… It seems like bullies tend to like me. I’m used to it”

“Well, I’m glad that this time they got what they deserved. I don’t like meanies either” she smiled at Percy, now standing in front of the entrance to her cabin “Goodnight, supreme lord of the bathroom”

Emily took a long time to get asleep that night, analysing what she had witnessed; Percy didn’t seem to fit any particular trait of any of the gods, he wasn’t skilled in any specific task, and he wasn’t as mischievous as most Hermes’ children were.

There was a possibility she didn’t dare to think of: the big three. It couldn’t even be possible… right? They had made a pact to not have any more children after the incident (which was, the second world war), because they were too powerful; that kind of demigods couldn’t be controlled. And there were many other gods, minor ones, who could have fathered Percy.

It was the facts though, like all the fuss they had made about Percy getting to camp, the trouble Grover and him had faced, his victory against the minotaur, and that strange yet very revealing experience in the bathhouse, that made Emily doubt if he could be a forbidden child.

Feeling tense and uneasy, she finally fell asleep, off to dreamland: she was laying under the stars on the grass, watching the archer, the ursa major, and other constellations she knew by heart. She wasn’t alone, though. She didn’t need to look to know who it was: his hand, big and calloused, was pointing up to the sky above them, and although he was explaining something to her, she was more concentrated in the movement of his hand and the flex of his fingers. On one of said fingers was the same ring she carried on her necklace, glistening under the moonlight.

She felt safe in that dream, and a warmth washing over her, soothing her like a balm. She wasn’t really understanding anything he was telling her, his voice muffled as if they were far away from one another, although she could feel him right by her side. Her uneasiness slightly vanished, even if it was just for a few seconds, and she felt reassured by him. When she turned to look at his face, the warmth disappeared, and she woke up.

Emily fought to not open her eyes, clinging to the dream; it was a memory of what seemed another lifetime she deeply missed. She didn’t have time to mourn the past, though: today was the day of capture the flag.

Joining her siblings for one last morning practice, Emily temporarily forgot about her doubts concerning Percy, and focused on training: the Ares cabin had teamed up with Demeter, Aphrodite, Hephaestus and Dionysus for this game, while Athena, Apollo and Hermes formed the other team. Although Emily’s team had more cabins, the two bigger cabins were the seventh (this is, Apollo), and the eleventh (Luke’s cabin, Hermes).

There were only two children of Mr. D, and Demeter’s offsprings weren’t very into combat, although they liked to fight the Apollo children for using arrows, which were made out of wood (which came from trees, and they refused to participate in any activity that encouraged the senseless slaughter of their arboreal friends!).

Aphrodite’s children weren’t bad at fighting if they wanted to, but they lacked of… the bloodlust Ares’ children had. Emily was friends with their head counselor, Silena Beauregard, as they had spent much time together at the Pegasi stables, of which Silena was in charge of. The Hephaestus demigods were built big and strong, so they were useful for combat, but their best virtue was the weapons they crafted and provided for the game.

One of their strongest weapons wasn’t made by them, though: Clarisse, leader of their team, owned an electric spear, gifted to her by Ares himself. It was her most prized possession, and she liked to show if off every chance she got, using it with her characteristic brute force.

Emily had her own weapon gifted to her by their father, an enchanted throwing knife which disguised as a bracelet, but it wasn’t as flashy or grandiose as Clarisse’s spear. She hated that spear.

Capture the flag would begin after lunch, so after grabbing a quick bite, and burning some of the food, Emily still had some little time to spare. She looked for Grover, and found him in the forest near the lake.

“I need to talk to you”

“Oh, sure, hi” he looked around them, seeming nervous. Although Emily wasn’t as aggressive as most of her siblings, she could be intense, and rather direct. She had often given Grover many jump scares “What’s up?”

“It’s about Percy” his face went serious “Annabeth and I… we are suspecting something. About his parentage”

“I don’t think I can help you with that” he said, shaking his head fast “No, I don’t…”

“You’re also suspecting something, aren’t you?” Grover’s face turned red; she had caught him. Emily smiled, walking closer to him, while Grover walked backwards, distancing himself slowly “I’m not saying you know anything, but… you know him better than we do. You guys were best friends at his school, right? Did anything happen there? Something… suspicious, that could make you think of a specific god?”

“I really can’t talk to you about this” he thought that Emily had been influenced too much by Annabeth, as she had her same ways of relentlessly asking questions, which combined with her resilience, made her implacable. And he would get in trouble if he said anything. Fortunately, the sound of a conch shell in the distance saved him “Oh, look, the game is starting. I would have loved to keep talking to you, but I really need to go now”

“You’re not even competing” she frowned.

“Yeah, sure, but this place is about to become a warzone, and no satyr wants to be around when that happens”

Fair enough, she let him go; she couldn’t be late anyways, so she ran back to her cabin, and quickly put on her armour, before going to the weaponry to grab everything she needed. Her preferred weapons were her throwing knife and a dagger she had had since she was six, which she always carried with her. For capture the flag she stuck to the standard sword and shield, although she was always tempted by the spears. She liked them, it was part of the typical Greek arsenal for battle… but the spears were also Clarisse’s thing, and she didn’t want to be compared to her sister.

Chiron had started to gather both teams at a cliff where the river split the forest in two sides, and fell down the mountain in a waterfall. Most of Emily’s team members were already there, wearing red striped armours like hers, and at the other side of the river, she saw Luke standing alongside the rest of his siblings and teammates, and also Percy; the blue eyed boy wore a blue striped armour over his orange shirt, with a blue crested helmet on his head. His weapons were a shield, and something small he was holding in his hand Emily couldn’t really make out from that far away. On Emily’s side was the red flag they had to defend, and on Percy’s and Luke’s side, the blue flag her team had to snatch to win.

The captains arrived, Clarisse and Annabeth on their respective sides, and Chiron, wearing his favourite tweed jacket and a cream coloured cape over it, greeted everyone cheerfully.

“Welcome, demigods!” he seemed delighted, and he sounded excited “A new game of capture the flag is ahead! As always, the rules are simple: the first team to retrieve the opposing flag and return it across the river shall be the victor. As always, there will be no maiming and no killing. I trust these rules will be respected” those rules had to be installed after some unfortunate events Emily had been glad to not have experienced “Any magical items you may possess, are permitted as well. Every camper who is not injured has to play. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged” those had also been things Emily was glad she hadn’t experienced “Let the games begin!”

After the conch shell blew again, the red team erupted in angry battle cries, banging their shields and various weapons in chaotic rhythms. The blue team let out a collective shout, hitting their shield in unison. Both teams had twenty minutes before the conch sounded a final time, and then it would be game on.

Emily winked at Annabeth, who winked back at her playfully before completely assuming her role as captain once more. Let the best one win.

Clarisse designated different troops for the game, and sent them scattered throughout the forest to attack the blue team and defend their flag. Emily was running off with her squadron, when she caught out of the corner of her eye how Clarisse and two of their siblings separated from their group, heading to a completely different direction.

“Emily, c’mon!”

Sighing, she followed her troop, hoping for the best.

She had her hands full soon anyways. Clarisse didn’t want Emily protecting the teams flag because of her friendship with Annabeth, so she was assigned to holding back the opposite team so that they wouldn’t actually get to the flag; Clarisse wasn’t Emily’s greatest fan, but she knew to not underestimate her. So she was quickly busy fighting Annabeth’s teammates: Emily wasn’t alone of course, as she had four of her siblings and four other demigods to help out. They won the first round, but the next battalion was commanded by Luke himself, and that would be tougher. Much more.

Luke went straight to her; he knew she would be the most difficult one to disarm, so he took it upon himself to fight her. He circled Emily, sword raised defensively, and she mirrored his movements. Luke’s first strike was easy to stop, and with practiced skill she raised her own sword, metal clashing against metal. As Luke pressed forward, Emily countered swift strikes of her own, until one of Luke’s brothers, Chris, joined him and attacked Emily from the other side. She raised her shield defensively, and Luke took his chance to hit her sword again, this time making her lose her grip.

Emily shoved Chris with force, using her shield to add strength to the hit, and when he tripped, she disarmed him as well. Luke attacked again, but Emily jumped to the side in time to avoid the hit of his sword; her own sword was laying on the ground, and she quickly retrieved it using her shield once again to block Luke’s strikes.

“Do you give up?”

“Never”

The two clashed relentlessly, swords meeting in a flurry of strikes and parries. Emily’s determination fueled her every move, strong and skilled, but Luke knew her weak spots like no one else, and so he used them against her. He sent Emily’s sword back clattering to the ground hitting her on the arm, and he dodged her dagger when she threw it at him furiously.

“You Ares kids have a temper!”

“Don’t provoke it then!”

Cornered against a tree, Emily charged against him, letting out an angry scream. Luke managed to get out of the way before she hit him, causing her to stumble forward. She recovered fast, doing a somersault, but when she faced Luke again, he had his sword raised just below her chin – He had the upper hand now.

“Are we done now?”

“Nuhuh, but I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends. I know you need the validation” she let go of her shield, signalling her surrender. She would never admit a defeat out loud, though. Her genes, Ares’ genes, wouldn’t let her.

Luke helped her up, while the rest of her team also recovered. Chris told Luke something about having to move quickly to get the flag before Clarisse showed up, but Luke seemed chill about it.

“Are you so self-confident that you think she won’t manage to kick your ass if she gets her hands on you?” Emily raised her eyebrows at her friend, surprised. Luke only smirked, shaking his head no.

“I’m not that crazy, no. But we suspect that she’s got her own quest going on beside capturing the flag. I’ve spotted her going up the hill in the opposite direction around fifteen minutes ago”

“What quest are you talking about?” she didn’t need to think much to guess it herself “She’s going after Percy?”

“Annabeth’s got a plan, don’t worry. He’ll be fine”

“I hope you’re right”

When Luke and his troop left to go find the red flag, Emily decided she would also leave; they had already been defeated anyways, so she couldn’t prevent Luke from getting her team’s flag, and so she went after Clarisse. The bad feeling she’d had at the beginning of the game seemed to have been right.

Emily ran through the forest, up the hill like Luke had told her, and after some time moving in the opposite direction of where most of the action was happening, she began to hear faint sounds of metal clashing against metal, and the familiar sizzle sound of an electric spear she knew all too well.

To some extent, Emily could understand Clarisse, which was probably one of the main reasons they didn’t get along well. Both of them had been ignored by their father for years now, and not a single thing they did to make him proud seemed to catch his eye. Not a single one. They both lived at camp the whole year, and they trained nearly every single say, trying to always become stronger, faster, and greater. Their mutual competition also helped, she had to admit – they always pushed each other, and it improved their skills. They were their best opponent.

That’s why, when a twelve year old with absolute no preparation got to camp, defeating the Minotaur all by himself, Emily had also had her suspicions. He couldn’t have done it alone, right? Turns out he could, and he did. And instead of being impressed by him and wanting to get to know him more to discover the reason for his spectacular victory, like Emily did, Clarisse could only focus on the fact that some little dumb twelve year old, untrained and unclaimed, had raised more attention to himself in a few days, than she had managed to get in years of being at camp pushing herself to extreme limits to excel.

And it killed Clarisse. She fought so hard to get scraps of her father’s attention, and he never showed her any kind of affection. In her mind, she thought that it was her fault, though, and that if she worked harder for him, he would love her – Emily felt the same way; that’s what she understood so well about her sister. Clarisse’s hard work had barely granted her anything since getting to camp, and Percy was receiving all the glory she deserved and dreamed of, and that he didn’t even seem to want. It wasn’t fair.

That’s why she embraced her darker side, and sought the next best thing after glory: revenge.

Emily got to the top of the hill in time to see Percy running away from her sister and two of her siblings, who went right after him. They would corner Percy from different sides, like hunters with their prey.

She couldn’t just shout out for Percy, as it would reveal her position to her siblings, so Emily ran behind them (lamenting the fact that she had just made it up the hill, and that she now had to run all the way back down with sore legs), trying to figure out their moves: Clarisse was running down in a straight line, not really following Percy, but getting ahead of him, probably to corral him further down the mountain. Her siblings were the ones directly on his toes, and while one of them followed his same footsteps, the other calculated where he would end up passing through, and threw himself at him, sending the boy to the ground.

Percy rolled down to the shore line between bushes and trees, landing on the hard and sharp soil gravel by the lake. Emily’s siblings caught up to him, and Percy stood up quickly, almost tripping while walking backwards to put a distance between him and them, with his sword up; he didn’t go far, though, as Clarisse was waiting for him with her spear pointing at him, ready to fight.

Emily was about to intervene, when a hand on her shoulder stopped her – an invisible hand.

“Annabeth, we have to help him” Emily protested, watching Clarisse laugh at Percy before launching herself at him, almost impaling him like a human kebab “He’s got no chance against them”

“He defeated the minotaur, right?” Annabeth was still invisible, but she could feel, and hear her right beside her. She probably had been watching Percy this whole time, waiting for a fight like this to happen “And he did that thing in the bathhouse. Just… wait and see how it goes”

“Are you sure?”

“Crystal. Trust me on this”

I was hard to look at, though. Emily’s siblings wouldn’t give Percy any respite, however, he managed to grab the electric spear at one point, both him and Clarisse grabbing it now from opposite sites, and he used it to temporarily block her. He landed some good hits on the other two Ares’ demigods, but then Clarisse got Percy to let go of her weapon. Percy rolled on the ground and got his shield back, and after a few seconds where his three rivals reconsidered their options, they attacked him again.

Percy wasn’t trained, but he had a natural talent and he defended himself good, to the point where he blocked Clarisse’s strike, managing to grab the end of her spear again, this time with the same arm he held the shield. After hits, grunts and metal clashes, Percy took the others down, and with both of her siblings on the ground, Clarisse desperately tried to free her weapon from Percy’s grip rolling on the soil, making him trip and fall a few feet away. Alongside the sound of his fall, pants and groans, there was the sound of something hard and metallic breaking apart and a large amount of energy being released all at once

Emily held her breath, just as Annabeth. Percy was alright, and so was Clarisse, but her spear… the electric spear her father had gifted her, which was the only thing she had ever received from him, was now split in two, broken. Both girls held their breath while watching Clarisse assess the damage, seeing the lower half of her favourite weapon in her hands, severed from the half in Percy’s hands.

Clarisse's scream tore through the air like a raw, primal cry of anguish and fury. It echoed off the trees, resonating with the intensity of her emotions as she beheld the shattered remnants of her beloved weapon, devastation on her face.

She charged against Percy, seeing completely red, and Emily couldn’t take it anymore. She jumped forward, just in time to stop Clarisse from grabbing Percy by the straps of his breastplate, who stepped back in terror.

Before Clarisse could lunge at her sister for getting in her way, the conch shell blew, and a second after, Luke and his soldiers ran to the shore holding victoriously the red team’s flag. Annabeth had won.

“The game is over, Clarisse” Emily looked at her sister warily. She was unpredictable when she got angry and hurt, which Emily knew “Leave him”

The older girl only huffed, and walked away with her two companions, holding the remnants of her spear in both hands.

Percy fell to the ground on his knees, panting heavily. The rush of adrenaline was wearing off, and his emotions started rise up him as he caught up with what had just happened – amongst other things, he had nearly died.

“Not bad, hero”

He turned to his right, where there was… nothing. At least, until Annabeth took her Yankees cap off; she walked over to him, and he looked baffled at her.

“Were you here the whole time?” she confirmed it “You were here the whole time and you didn’t help me?” he got the same answer “Why?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, and extended her hand out for him to grab. She helped him up, and only then did he look at Emily.

“Thanks for… saving me” he panted, still breathing heavily. His heart was beating a hundred miles per hour, and his blood rang inside his ears “She was going to kill me”

“Listen, Percy…” Annabeth got him to look at her again. She looked him in the eyes, intense gaze studying his blue iris’s, which looked back at her holding onto every word she said “I’m sorry”

Annabeth shoved him in the chest, causing him to stumble and to fall into the lake.

“Annabeth!” Emily looked at her friend in alarm, completely taken aback for what she had just done.

“What is wrong with you?!” shouted Percy, now completely soaked. His cries and Emily’s got everyone’s attention, and the celebration of the blue team’s victory was cut short when every soldier turned to them, watching what was happening.

Percy stood up inside the water, but Annabeth didn’t answer him nor Emily. She only watched him, first with interest, and then with amazement. Emily followed her gaze, and she understood what she was looking at: Percy’s injuries, cuts and blood… were disappearing. He felt how his skin healed, and he watched every scrape vanish before his eyes.

What was happening? How was he healing?

“I don’t understand” he muttered.

The answer came in the shape of a trident.

“Your dad’s calling”

A blue trident floating over Percy’s head. He had been claimed.

Emily, Annabeth, Luke and every single other living being who was there looked at the boy in wonder, in utter silence, the greatness of this once in a lifetime moment embarking their souls. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing: a son of the big three. A forbidden child of the sea god. A demigod singular amongst heroes.

“Percy Jackson” Chiron’s voice resonated through the forest, carrying an intensity that was only possessed by those who had lived thousands of years “You have been claimed by Poseidon. Earthshaker. Stormbringer. Percy Jackson… Son of the Sea God”

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Taglist of the fic: @strawberryys-stuff @ladysybilchronicles @kyuupidwrites @nhloversblog @beansficreblogs @priyajoyy @zeeader @lightsgore

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