icarus_fell
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The Warden's Hand by icarus_fell
Fandoms: The Locked Tomb Series | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
01 Dec 2025
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Summary
Camilla Hect knew three things to be true about the Master Warden of the House of the Sixth with absolute certainty. Number one: he never forgot a damn thing in his life. Number two: he, quite often frustratingly, had the unnatural ability to be almost immediately amazing at most things he turned his hand to. And number three: once he put his mind to something, he was incapable of stopping until he saw it to completion.
All of this to say that, as soon as Palamedes Sextus worked out what made his cavalier primary tick, he honed in on the theorem, and applied it liberally.
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In which Sex Pal makes good on his nickname. -
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He never meant to become a dad.
All out nuclear war resulting in a zombie apocalypse? He would have predicted that far sooner than parenthood. And yet here he stood, in the bombed and dilapidated ruins of what was likely once someone’s home, trying to coax an injured child out of hiding before any infected showed up.
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In which the world ends, and a quest to put it back together begins.Or, where benchtrio try to survive the nuclear zombie apocalypse. Angst ensues.
(Alternate title: and that day that we'll watch the death of the sun)
Recent bookmarks
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whetstone by hoteyedwraith (rhinemannultra)
Fandoms: The Locked Tomb Series | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
24 Oct 2025
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"you're so tense," he says, hands folded politely in his lap in a piss-poor attempt to hide the tent in his trousers. flattering. she fights back a tiny smile. "relax, camilla. stop holding your breath."
and– she does relax, is the thing, but not consciously. she feels the muscles in her core and her limbs soften, lengthen just barely out of their contraction, lungs expanding at the merest twitch of his ring finger. the loss of control makes her gasp, ball her hands up into fists at her sides, bite down hard on her lip.
"there you go, that's much better." he starts up again, his curious touch-without-touch, that simple alchemichal biology that fools her nerve endings and neural pathways into hallucinating the pressure and warmth of a caress. it's fucking with her head a little. he's got her keyed up enough that it feels like anything could send her over the edge. she watches a rivulet of bloodsweat run down his temple. he smiles at her, warm and kind. it's–
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Bookmarked by icarus_fell
11 Dec 2025