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holy-puckslibrary · 6 months

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━ 𝐅*𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑.

-ˏˋ. 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˊˎ-

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — FWB!matthew tkachuk x f!reader 𝐰𝐜 — 1.7k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — "old habits die hard..." — or, your boyfriend won’t fuck you right, so you run to the one person who always does.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — patrons know the chokehold this toxic sin-fest has on me and probably always will... in all seriousness, this is one of my favorite things i've ever published and i am so insanely proud of it. i hope you love it as much as i do <3

(spoiler — not possible teehee)

18+ MDNI — content warnings under the cut.

𝐜𝐰 — profanity, innuendo, matthew’s filthy mouth and lack of morals, cheating (not on matty or the reader), outdated/incorrect information about having sex for the first time, borderline too much degradation, some objectification to add a little spice, unprotected sex w a cheeky creampie (what did you expect from two morally bankrupt individuals written by me, a retired whore?), matthew being a noncommittal, possessive piece of shit joking about knocking people up for funzies

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“D’you think you’re so addicted to my cock because you know I don’t give a fuck what you think about me? Or care if you think I’m a Nice Guy?”

Even buried to the hilt—bare with nothing between you and far too fucking close for comfort—Matthew Tkachuk runs his mouth like he’s got nothing to lose and even less to prove. He’s insufferable, his only redeeming quality being the pulsing appendage threatening to split you in half as you buck in his lap.

With your hands braced against his hard chest for leverage, you drown out his grating voice, chasing the white-hot surges, bolts of lightning leading you to the brink of collapse with renewed vigor.

The sooner you come, the sooner he’s gone.

“All I care about, sweetheart, is fucking you good and hard. Giving it to you like the hungry, cockdrunk whore that you are.”

Debonair attitude. Sly confidence. Vulgar demeanor.

Filthy fucking mouth.

You were warned about Matthew Tkachuck. Repeatedly. Warned about him and his complete lack of a filter, about his total disregard for anyone’s feelings but his own. His aversion to commitment, to monogamy, to propriety.

All the things that repulse you about the man lounging on expensive hotel sheets beneath you—as you do all the work—lure you back to him in equal measure. He shouldn’t turn you on, but that’s exactly why he does. He’s all wrong, wrong, wrong.

Which makes him just right.

“I bet if your fiancé walked in right now, you’d just keep riding me. You wouldn’t even notice, would you? After all, you haven’t cum yet. And that’s all you care about, right? Using my cock to get your rocks off because Billy Boyfriend’s too scared to give you what you really need. Lucky for you, I’m not a fuckin’ pussy. I don’t treat you like a fragile doll because I know you’ll take anything I give you—and beg for more. I treat you like what you are, not some chaste little princess.”

You’ve been with Bill for nearly a decade, engaged for more than a year. It’ll be a spring wedding, probably. If the venue pans out, and the caterer finally calls you back with a final quote.

Perfect on paper.

He doesn’t pay attention to you the way he used to. Just throws money at the problem until he can bury himself in work again, undisturbed by you or nagging obligation.

Flowers for being three hours late, a necklace for missing dinner entirely. A trip overseas when he had to go into the office on your anniversary.

But he’s nice, so fucking nice it hurts, and more loyal than the Golden Retriever he wants to adopt after the honeymoon. After you’re settled into a custom-build nestled comfortably in the suburbs and far away from the city. White picket fence, manicured lawn, barely-there speed limits.

It's all so nauseatingly idyllic. So perfectly attuned with what you thought you wanted, what you spent your childhood coveting.

All your single friends are jealous; your committed friends are resentful. Your family loves him, and even though you’ve got a fucked up way of showing it, so do you.

And he loves you too. He’s just busy. It’ll be different once we’re settled, he says. You try to believe him, though not as hard as you should. You tell yourself it's because he doesn’t either.

Bill’s gotten lazy. You’ve gotten bored.

You’re no angel, and never claimed to be. You just want to feel good.

Matthew barks out a dry laugh, almost like he can read your mind.

“You haven’t been since I first got you on your knees at his birthday party. And definitely not after I popped that sweet cherry you were so adamant about saving for him."

Bill doesn’t fuck you. He never has.

He makes love to you. It’s that romance-novel tenderness that got you here in the first place. Slow, sweet, and nearly devoid of passion. It’s so gentle you have to think of him just to come.

How he fucks you.

How tightly he yanks your hair, craning your neck until it aches. How hard he kneads and smacks your ass, bullying the skin until you sob. How deep his cock reaches. And how he takes, takes, takes without forethought. How could you accept a lifetime of only tame rutting in the face of Pavlovian depravity?

It’s awful, and it's so profoundly selfish, but his everything has you in a bind.

Matthew’s everything is ruining your life.

An uncharacteristic wave of guilt and sadness washes over you, and before you can catch yourself, you’re staring down at the engagement ring. The band constricts, digging into your finger like it's out for blood when you glimpse the indentation it left behind on Matthew’s peck. You wince, then choke down the shame lodged in your throat, screwing your eyes shut to will it away.

“If it's bothering you that much, take it off. I’ll keep it safe for you.” —wink— “I can’t imagine the weight of a rock like that, especially one you don’t even deserve. But, if you actually felt as guilty as you claim to, you wouldn’t be this wet on another man’s cock. Don’t play saint now. You’ll ruin the fun.”

You can’t do this right now; you can’t have this worn-out fight. So, you say what you always say even though you’ve long since stopped trying to mean it.

“You keep saying that, sweetheart. We should stop. This is the last time. But no matter what you say, you always come crawling back to me sooner or later because I have what you need. Because I’m not him. Because I fuck you better.”

His words light you on fire. You hate it, but how deeply your body enjoys them is undeniable. How tightly you squeeze and flutter with every degrading line, choking his cock as you use him to satisfy your own perverted needs. How his brutal honesty, his refusal to let you forget your zealous participation in the affair for even a second, arches your back and hardens your nipples.

Even without all that evidence stacked against you, the blitzed-out look on your face says it all. One look at you and everyone would know just how right Matthew is.

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl.

You say it for the sake of saying it. To know, when you curl into Bill's side tonight, that you said something to deny his assessment of you.

But the last thing you want is for him to shut his mouth.

Not right now, not when you’re right there—

“You can’t hide from me, sweetheart, and you can’t lie to me. You can’t fool me, either. I see right fucking through you. It terrifies you—and you love it.”

His raspy voice swims freely through your hollowed-out mind. It unwittingly thumbs through every unforgivable memory, like some sort of pornographic Rolodex.

Matthew’s hips grinding against yours in darkened corners and dive-bar bathroom stalls and poker tables.

His hands fighting against hard-earned sweat in the foggy backseat of his car, battling to find purchase anywhere he can so he can keep rutting with reckless abandon before you’re expected home.

His fingertips burrowing into the sides of your throat, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to silence, hard enough to hurt.

Him spilling inside of you, ropes painting the sacred place white with no remorse or expectation of responsibility.

Matty’s hand over your mouth, urging you to be fucking quiet as he pistons in and out, in and out, keeping you pinned against the bathroom door, against the only thing standing between Bill and the worst discovery of his apple-pie life—

Old habits die hard.

Especially when it’s one that always feels that fucking good. No matter how lecherous or immoral.

Or how badly the betrayal would hurt someone underserving and innocent.

“Even if you walk down that aisle and take his last name, you’ll still belong to me. Wedding or not, this pathetic, weeping cunt belongs to me. But it’s all gonna be okay, though. Don’t you worry that pretty, empty head. I don’t mind sharing my toys. Especially with someone who could never compete.”

You can't compete where you don't compare.

He doesn’t want to be your boyfriend. He doesn’t want to be anyone’s boyfriend. He isn’t the Relationship Type. He doesn’t even want to be exclusive. That’s part of his appeal, no matter how fervently you deny it. He doesn’t want more than pleasure—primal, deviant pleasure—and that’s all you're looking for.

That's all you need.

“Where do you want my load, dirty girl?”

“Inside. I-Inside me, please, Matty.”

“Right answer.”

The burst of warmth is like getting a perfect grade you didn’t earn. Or feeling the cash your sibling gave you in exchange for not ratting them out sitting in your back pocket. It's hard to feel bad about the wrong you’ve done when the payoff is so deliciously worthwhile.

Matthew twitches, still hugged by your sensitive walls, and you shudder.

This is the high you chase every time you bend your morals until they splinter. The still nothingness that lays beyond the denouement, where everything is glowy and the pit inside you appears not-so-bottomless for once. The lack of expectations and obligations. The sheer freedom that stringless pleasure, that sensual self-indulgence provides.

Matthew doesn’t owe you anything, you don’t owe him anything either, and neither of you pretends otherwise.

And you sure as fuck don’t trip on his dirty laundry every time you walk into the bedroom.

“If that doesn’t take,” Matthew flicks his hips in emphasis, “…let me know when and where you want your wedding present, sweetheart.”

You don’t answer. You push his hands away and roll off of him unceremoniously. But he keeps talking.

Matthew is always talking.

“Oh, and before I forget, would you be a dear and let Billy know I won’t be able to make it for his bachelor party? I don’t know why, but I have the oddest feeling that something desperately needing my attention will come up.”

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#*ೃ༄ by holy-pucks #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk x f!reader #matty tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk x you #ratty matty #m. tkachuk #nhl hockey #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl lemon #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #hockeyblr #nhlblr #hockey boys #reader insert

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hermesmyplatonicbeloved · 6 months

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What does Percy think about Hades in Canon? Analysis.

Partner post, coming soon: [What does Hades think about Percy in Canon? Analysis].

The Lightning Thief

Percy's first meeting with Hades in tlt is loaded. He's spent the last week or two being told by Chiron (and others) that Hades is the one who stole Zeus's bolt and is the one framing Percy. He believes that Hades has sent monsters after him. He believes that Hades has kidnapped his mom. Percy doesn't have any bargaining chips over Hades; he comes to Hades with a plea to convince him to stop the incoming war.

We don't really know what Percy thinks of Hades. But everyone else acts like they're scared of him. Percy believes that all the monsters being sent after him are from Hades, so surely the god sending the monsters is equally as terrifying, if not more?

And the Percy actually sees Hades and oh boy. He's practically smitten at first sight. "Hades is the first god that actually looked like a god." -> Percy is impressed as hell by Hades. He compares Hades to a panther: looking lithe, graceful and powerful. He describes Hades's eyes as mesmerizing. He thinks that Hades has an air of charisma. He literally says that Hades should be his master, and Percy wants to take a nap at Hades's feet. This boy literally goes on for a half-full page solely on Hades's appearance, ending with wondering what Hades's underwear looks like.

Then they actually talk and Percy finds out that aside from Mrs. Dodds, Hades hasn't sent any monsters after him. All the other monsters were sent by Kronos and/or Zeus. Hades didn't kidnap his mom, he took her before the minotaur could kill her. He's willing to give Sally back, albeit for a deal. He's not crazy and unreasonable - they've just both been tricked. And then a few scenes later after Percy gives Mrs. Dodds the helm to return to Hades, Percy finds out that Hades is a god of his word as he returned his mom safe and sound.

So to summarize Percy's interactions, thoughts and feelings about Hades after his first quest:

Percy is hella attracted to Hades. This cannot be understated. What's even more interesting is that canonically, this series was written by Percy at 19 years old. At 19 years old, Percy still describes Hades this way. I-

Percy realizes that Hades is not too unreasonable: they we both pitted against each other, and in the end Hades did what was right/good.

Percy realizes that Hades can be trusted to keep his word: Percy returned the helm, and Hades returned Sally.

And last of all: Hades saved Sally Jackson's life. He didn't have to take her from the minotaur. He didn't have to return her alive and unharmed. But he did. And at this point (and lets be honest, any point in Percy's life) he is first and foremost a mama's boy. She's pretty much his whole world at this point. It means a lot to Percy that he got her back.

The Last Olympian

Percy is tricked by Nico (who was in turn tricked by Hades) into getting trapped in the underworld. At this point Percy is convinced that Hades is going to kill him - despite the fact that both Nico and Hades say otherwise. He's not just mad - he's scared. Terrified. He's in the middle of a war, thinking that his dad might die fighting Oceanus, thinking that Olympus might fall (and everyone he loves will die) and due to the prophecy it'll be on him. He doesn't react well to Nico luring him to the underworld Hades tricking him and that's understandable.

Even then, some part of Percy remembers that Hades was once somewhat reasonable so he asks Hades, "If you know about it, do something! At least let me tell the other gods!" Hades doesn't but like. The fact that Hades lured Percy to the underworld and Percy thinks he's about to die and Percy still asks Hades to do the right thing?

And then he does. It takes him awhile, but eventually Nico (and Persephone I think) convince him and Hades shows up right when Percy is cornered and about to face Kronos right in front of the Empire State Building. The thing about this scene is what's not said. Sally and Paul join the fight, and Percy leaves them with Nico, Hades, Demeter and Persephone to go after Kronos. Percy's fatal flaw is personal loyalty. There's no way that Percy would've left Sally and Paul to fight off the armies of Kronos if he didn't think that the underworld crew (Nico, Hades, Demeter and Persephone) would protect them/have their backs.

After the fighting is done, Percy sees Hades: "The lord of the dead nodded. He had a smug look on his face, but I figure he'd earned the right." Percy doesn't outright come out and say it, but like. He's glad Hades came through in the end. It's not forgiveness for the trickery, but it's something. Percy knows that if Hades hadn't shown up when he did, they would have lost the war, and he acknowledges that in his thoughts.

Then there's Percy's reward for defending Manhattan. I think it's incredibly interesting about how much Percy thinks and mentions Hades when he makes his request. He starts off by straight up looking at Hades and saying, "Someone once told me, you should always get a solemn oath." To which Hades agrees.

After he outlines what exactly he wants he names Hades' children specifically. He says, "Hades— [...] my lord, But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that." \ "And no more pact of the Big Three. That didn't work anyway. You've got to stop trying to get rid of powerful demigods. We're going to train them and accept them instead. All children of the gods will be welcome and treated with respect."

Hades' entire character arc from tlt to tlo is about feeling like an outcast and receiving no respect from his fellow siblings/Olympians, and his children being excluded, hunted and treated the same way. And Percy uses his one wish from Zeus to fix that? This is big. I guarantee you that Percy was thinking of the scene he saw where Hades lost Maria di Angelo and then cursed the Oracle out of sorrow and anger until the day where his children would be allowed to live and would no longer be outcasts.

And then the last point, I find interesting. Rachel is about to become the Oracle, and Percy is worried about her getting Hades's curse along with it. But the interesting part, is not that he doesn't think Hades will lift the curse, its "If Hades hasn't gotten to that yet, she'll go crazy!" Percy has complete belief that Hades will keep his word. It's interesting because after Hades tricked Nico into luring Percy to capture him, you'd think that Percy wouldn't trust Hades' word anymore right? No. Percy is just worried about the timing - because Percy just made the request for Hades's children to be welcomed less than an hour ago.

So to summarize Percy's interactions, thoughts and feelings about Hades after this book:

Percy was hella angry (understandably so) at Hades and terrified, as Hades tried to imprison him.

But Hades redeemed himself by showing up at the last moment to help out. And Percy trusted that Hades + underworld crew would have Sally and Paul's back in the battle.

A significant part of Percy's request to the gods was for Hades (and by extension, Nico and the Oracle).

Percy regains trust that Hades would keep his word - as seen with Rachel + the Oracle.

There was little/no attraction that we saw from the first book, but that was probably because Hades was intentionally projecting a mask of nightmares to intimidate Kronos + his forces, and the fact that Percy spent this entire book being scared/stressed out of his mind.

Heroes of Olympus

At the core of Percy's request at the end of tlo, was Percy wanting the Olympian gods to be better to their children. And this entire series was the gods doing the exact opposite. We virtually never see Poseidon, Hermes, Artemis or Hestia (the four most helpful gods in PJO). Hera mind wipes Percy, only leaving Annabeth's name to manipulate Percy into going where she wants like a horse following a carrot. I could go on, the series is full of examples of the gods being shitty.

Aside from Hades.

Hades is the only one who actually does better.

It's only implied, but his behavior towards Nico does a full 180. Nico gets a place in Hades's palace. When Nico starts getting frantic looking for Percy, Hades directs Nico to the place (Camp Jupiter) where Hades knows Percy will eventually show up.

While the other gods are sitting on their thrones doing almost nothing (aside from Bacchus who was having fun half tormenting half helping, and Hera who was kidnapping/fucking with Percy and Jason's minds), Hades went to Tartarus and attempted to free the Doors of Death. When the Seven rescue Nico, he tells them this in MoA. Hades failed (presumably because he tried to stand against Tartarus, Hyperion, Krios and Gaea's earthborn army with only a mere skeleton army), but the fact is that he made an effort, in a big way. He went to Tartarus, the place where even the Olympians are afraid to go. And he went alone, with no other gods for back up (remember the first time he went, he had Zeus, Poseidon, Demeter, Hestia and Hera with him).

And considering how bitter and angry Percy seemed by the end of HoO (he was literally ready to attack Zeus in BoO) I think the fact that Hades made a significant effort (while the gods that Percy had a close relationship with like Poseidon and Hermes did nothing) would mean something to Percy.

Partner post, coming soon: [What does Hades think about Percy in Canon? Analysis].

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fandomnerd9602 · 8 months

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Admission

Novitiate!Wanda x Male Reader

For @lifespectator and @aloneodi

It had to be some Divine conspiracy. The way that you and novitiate Wanda happened to step out of that confessional booth at the same time. It was as if the Lord Himself was pulling the strings to bring the two of you together.

“Hey” you manage to speak.

“Hello” she smiles back.

How could it be? That she fell for you as much as you had fallen for her. And yet something about it felt so forbidden. True she had not taken her vows yet but you still felt that she might as well have.

“were you in that confessional booth?” Wanda asks, a little blush making its way across her angelic features.

“I-I was filling in for Father Wong” you stammer trying to somehow explain the whole thing. “It’s not like I was trying to lure you away from your vows or anything like that” you stammer nervously.

“ is it really that strange?” Wanda takes a step towards you, “ that I fell for you and you for me?”

“How could I not?” You breath out.

She takes your hand. “Due to my vows, the only kiss I can settle for is this”

She leans the palm of her hand against yours. A holy kiss.

“If that’s the only kiss we can have, then I count it a blessing” you whisper.

“Good day, Y/N” Wanda sadly whispers as she turns to leave.

“Good day…sister Wanda” you let out a sad, miserable breath.

Wanda found herself separating from you. Different tasks taking her off in different directions. Time that she was getting further away from you, and yet I just made her heart grow all the more fonder for you. She couldn’t deal with it, the feeling of being so far away from you was too much for her to bear on some days.

If only she could realize how painful it was for you too. You found yourself your mind drifting away from your own studies.

You found yourself walking towards Wong’s office. He was rather happy to see his favorite apprentice.

“Y/N!” He laughs as he pulls you into a fatherly hug, “what brings you by this morning?”

“I have to leave Father Wong” you whisper.

“Why? Do you feel the Lord calling you elsewhere?”

“ I feel Him calling me towards someone” you admit. “I’ve fallen in love with sister Wanda.”

Wong leans back in his seat, “Wanda Maximoff?”

You nod, a feeling of guilt passing over you. Your mentor simply removes his glasses and smiles.

"I knew there was something between you two" he lets out a soothing chuckle.

"Wait what?"

"You know the Scriptures never say one has to be celibate for all your life? I don't know how that even got started"

"So it's not wrong to love Wanda?"

"No" he affirms you, "if anything I think it's why the Creator told me to put you two together. You make quite the duo. I've never seen the sunday school more joyful than when you and Wanda are together with those kids."

Wong pulls a paper off his desk, "for some reason, His Excellency the Pope Stephen sent me this email today. Said I should be the first to know"

Wong hands the paper to you which you read aloud, "this paper decrees that celibacy is meant for a season, not for life. It's no longer required for priesthood or the convent"

"Run to her, Y/N" Wong summarizes with a smile, "the parish has been thriving with you and Wanda"

"Thank you sir!" you run out of Wong's office and straight to the chapel, briefly passing Sister Natasha who gives you a knowing smirk.

You find Wanda on her knees at the altar. Even with her back to you, you can hear her tears.

"Sister Wanda?" you call out to her. Wanda gasps, immediately she bolts up.

"I-I'm no longer Sister Wanda." she admits, "I've taken a teaching job here on the parish's grounds but I cannot join the convent."

"And I can't join the priesthood... well at least originally" you walk up to her. "Wanda I love you. And I know that the Creator put us together for a reason. It's some divine conspiracy how but all I know is that I never want to part from your side"

Wanda tears up, a gentle smile forming on her face, "I don't wish to leave your side either."

She holds up her hand, wishing for a holy kiss. You clasp your hand with hers and pull her into an actual kiss. Wanda melts in your arms, holding onto you for dear life.

"Now I know that was ordained," she giggles, "because that felt heavenly"

You take her chin in your hand and kiss her again.

The gentle early morning light shines through the stained glass window and right onto you and the novitiate who stole your heart. It's as if the Creator Himself was smiling on the two of you.

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #Wanda Maximoff imagine #scarlet witch #novitiate #nun Wanda #Wanda variant #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine

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daryldixonfanfiction · 8 months

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What You Fight For pt.1 -Suck-ass camp!

masterlist

Summary: with no hope of saving the prison against the Governor, Daryl has to resume the fight for survival. Protecting Julia (a 20-year-old woodberry-girl) bak into the cruel world of the walking dead.

Warnings: age gape, twd stuff, swearing, angst, Daryl losing his sh!t, mentions of underage drinking.

wc: 9,8k

The blazing midday sun shone upon the fears battlefield.

Daryl fiers upon walkers, killing one with the but of his rifle. Approaching the tank he drops a hand grenade swiftly into it, single handedly taking it down.

"Grinade!" The man yells, jumping down.

The tank explodes, flames erupt through the top. Holding out one of his hands, silent, the man pleads for mercy. Only a cold stare with darkening blue eyes bore into him. Swishing sound of the bolt is released, piercing his heart, making him fall to the ground. Daryl holds his gaze on the body, blankly staring as his home crumbles before his eyes.

How did it all go so wrong

"Daryl"! A woman's voice yells from behind, heridly with a girl close on her heel.

"Marlene...You good"? Daryl questions, gaze falling on the bleeding wound on her side.

"I was gonna take her myself but I won't make it anywhere like this, not for a while anyway. So now I'm asking you to do it." Marlene said with pained breaths.

The girl's eyes widened at her words.

"Take her?...where...?" Daryl questions.

"There's a team of French scientists waiting for her. I know what you're capable of, Daryl."

Daryl's face drops slightly.

What is he capable of?

"You'll keep her safe. Take this map, bring her to this facility". Marlene hands Daryl a map with the location already marked.

Dr. Jenner's words flashes, "It was the French. They thought they were close to a solution".

Daryl glansess at the girl, trying to comprehend the odd information. It didn't make much sense to him. Why hasn't she said anything about this before? What's the reason for not sharing it to the council?

...

They had never talked, but Daryl knew who she was.

How could't he.

All the men were nuts for her. Daryl didn't pay the girl any attention, just cast a few glances to see what the fuss was about. Not liking girls was not the case, he just never really thought about them in that way. Always busy with keeping people 'safe and fed,' he told himself. Really Daryl was just insecure, afraid only believing people couldn't like him or were scared of him. Making himself think girls were just a bother.

She never really stood out, keeping to herself, only close to Marlene or that guy he wasn't sure was a friend or boyfriend. Often she was surrounded by children, playing, reading and telling stories they loved. The children adored the girl. In their eyes she was their sun, giving light this world had taken from them. They made her smile, that radiant smile, making her dimples show. And her voice. Don't forget about that damned siren voice of hers. Perhaps that was why all the men got nuts? Daryl didn't really know anything about singing, he often heard Beth or Magi sing. It was nothing compared to hers, hers was angellike. She could make babies fall asleep, soothe them instantly and lure men to their deaths if so desired.

Not Daryl, he never got distracted.

If not with the children she did landrie, washing and hanging them on those sunny days before most had woken up. Perhaps she did it on purpose, not wanting to interact with others. Daryl always went out hunting in the early mornings, he could hear her hum those soothing melodies. He often listened, in secret passing by the laundry, hanging like curtains, shielding her from view. Only hums of melodic tunes could be heard. Daryl was quick about it only passing through careful not to be notist. That one time he stayed just a bit longer, he drifted away in the melodies, warm as a summer breeze, captivating like the deepest sunseat. It made Daryl feel soothed, just like those children did. He knocks over a barrel scaring the girl away, almost blowing his cover.

...

As she stood before him close to Marlene, Daryl couldn't help but notice the frightened look in her eyes. As if seeing this world for the first time, the raw reality of it all, not fully comprehending the prison was no more. Maybe she had been shielded from it back in Woodbury?

Daryl shifts his gaze back to Marlene.

"Rick and the others would have wanted this and you know it". Marlene pleads as her hand squeezes her side (She was desperate).

There was nothing left for him here. They're all gone. Just gone.

"What about the kids"? The girl frantically asks Marlene.

"Beth and the others know to take the bus if things go south, they'll make it". Marlene reassured her.

"Things go south, everyone heads for that bus. Let everybody know". Daryl remembered telling Sasha and Tyrese just moments ago.

They were gone too.

"I know you're thinking it through but please remember i'm bleeding out", Marlene urges, sensing his hesitation.

But then..Daryl nods and Marlene nods bak. It was settled.

"Really that fast?", the girl looks between them, confused and scared at the same time. Making Daryl glans at her again.

"I can't leave you!" She pleaded with Marlene.

Never had she experienced this world outside woodbury or the prison. The news of Marlene not going with her like she said she wolde, frightened her terribly. Daryl was someone she didn't really know. Could she trust him? If Marlene did, perhaps she should too?

" Julia. You are all that matters. Remember what I told you"? Marlene answered with a firm gaze.

"Yes' ', Julia answers, nodding with tears in her eyes, warning to fall down her cheeks. Because she knew, knew she would have to leave Marlene behind. She was the only one Julia really thrusted, (the one who knew her secret).

Marlene; You cannot tell anyone of this. Because if you do... I assure you.. You will die...

"Now both of you go. Now. I'll cover you", Marlene hurriedly says urging her forward to Daryl. Hesitantly Julia moves next to him, sharing a lingering look with Marlene who holds out her gun, taking out walkers coming their way.

"Daryl." "One more thing". "You protect her with your life". "You hear me. " Marlene tells him with her firm, serious voice. Daryl only stares back with a stern face.

Julia's eyes drift up towards Daryl's face as he urges her.

"C'mon." "We got to go."

Daryl proceeds when she doesn't answer, grabbing her wrist and drags her away.

She struggles in his grip shouting as her feet drag along the ground.

"No, no!" "We are not leaving her! Get off me.. please!" "I'm not going with You!"

But seeing Marlene gaze after them she gives in, meeting her gaze one last time, a woman she would like to call a friend. She wasn't worth it she thought, but Marlene did, Marlene thought she was worth something.

They sprint as hard as they can into the woods ahead, escaping, leaving the prison in ruins, the undead comes in every angel, snarling and groaning after their flesh. She follows his every move and turn, avoiding the reaching hands trying to pull them in. Never before had she experienced such horror. Truly she was terrified.

Suddenly the undead were everywhere, surrounding her, giving her no way of escape. Not long goes by before a swishing sound sings in the air, a bolt hits bullseye in the walkers head, then hitting the next one with the body of the crossbow, the third walker approaching snarls, Daryl kicks it in it's abdomen making it stumble bak, giving him just the nick of time to direct her for the gape.

"Don't look back!" "Just keep going, I'll cover you!" Dary yells, pushing her ahed before him as they keep on running deeper into the woods. Heart pounding against their rib cages, breaths panting, as the feeling of adrenaline moves through their veins. Leaves crunch beneath their feet, the wind shifts whistling thru trees, taking away the foul stench from the walkers.

Upon a field, cutting off the forest behind them, Daryl keeps on glancing back, making sure they've lost them. The undead were nowhere to be seen. Pushing through the thick greenery scratching their skin they stop for just a moment, catching their breaths before hurriedly looking back continuing to grow their distance from the dead.

"She's shore is fast for someone with short legs like hers '', Daryl thought, appreciating the pace.

Finally they stop, throwing themselves on the ground, exhausted, gasping for air. Laying upon the dry grass next to one another, Daryl with his hand holding a bolt resting against his forehead and the other spread out to the side with his crossbow next to him, he closed his eyes, cashing his breath. She laid with both of her arms spread out from her sides, staring into the sky not really believing she was really out here. The evening sun cast long shadows on the ground. The slanting rays of the sun gave a warm orange tint upon the overgrown greenery while birds above decorated the sky.

Julias Diary:

Hey. I know it's been awhile. I'm gonna be honest, I forgot about you.

After the turn, It was as if the world crumbled beneath my feet. But something happened. something good. Finally,

Marlene thinks the prison can become our new home after woodberry.

I can't believe I got my own bed. My own bed in my own room. And I've been keeping the scar hidden. Haven't told a soul.

I've been afraid to get my hopes up, thinkin we can actually stay here.

The thing is, I've been starting to get afraid that it's easier just to be afraid. But this morning Marlene said something. "If you don't have hope, what's the point of living?"

And I'm gonna write this down now, because you should write down wishes to make them come true.

We can live here. We can live here for the rest of our lives.

...

They never went to sleep that night -They couldn't. Orange hue glowed from the small fire between them, being the only source of light in the forest, dancing against their skin. Sounds of insects hummed as crackling snapped. For a long time they were quiet, thinking of what was lost.

Staring into the flames the light of hope within her still sparked. When all seems lost the optimistic trait often took over, not allowing her to lose hope. The hope some have survived.

It couldn't be just them.

But when she looked upon him across the fire, he was sitting there, blankly staring, body slouching, heavy arms resting on his knees -And she wondered what haunted his mind. Like contemplating the edge of the universe. Something told her what he was truly thinking. The prison -She did too. But they had to do something.

His chest felt hollowed out, body heavy, staring into the fire as he drifted away- Tired from being tired, tired from running all day, no food, no sleep. He wished it did not feel so painful inside of himself. Wished he did not feel so lost believing they others were gone. But now the quiet was the loudest thing of all, as if he nearly melted into the dancing flames of the fire, drifting away with the current of sorrows. He had failed them, letting it all happen, he should have done something differently.

Maybe they would be alive then.

Losing them made the world lose its color. Everything felt dull, meningles, leaving a bad taste on his tongue. Nothing could fill that void within his heart, instead filling it with numbness, fading into the same nothingness as night itself.

We can't just sit here.

"We should do something", Julia croaked, speaking her mind, looking ahead towards Daryl. It falls on deaf ears. Just sitting there in his own thoughts.

Please don't tell me he's given up.

"We should do something", she repeated with more strength in her tone, finally getting his attention.

Daryl lifted his head, slowly.

He meets her desperate eyes, as she gauges him after any sign of hope, it's all gone, making her desperate to keep on. She had to.

"We aren't the only survivors." "We can't be.'' "Rick and Michonne". "They could be out here." "Maggie and Glenn could have made it out of A block." She spoke with optimism.

He lowered his gaze upon his hands resting against his knees with the same doleful face.

"they could've", she insisted, shaking her head heavily in disbelief of the thought they didn't make it.

She knew he wasn't going to answer her with his eyes set on the fire. Staring and staring.

...Silence...then...

"You're a tracker." "You can track." Julia insisted, standing on her feet, still looking at him.

Daryl said nothing.

"Come on." her voice higher pitched, becoming desperate with his no response.

"The sun will be up soon." "If we head out now, we can.." She stops mid sentence, frustration growing before she throws a mini temper, responding to his silence.

He seemed to ignore her so easily, as if she wasn't even there.

"Fine!" "If you won't track, I will!" She exclaimed, walking forward, taking his hunting knife beside him, turning on her heel, stomping away to the opposite direction further in the forest.

Daryl ignored her pleads, hoping she would just give up. She had to realize all hope was lost, and it would be stupid, dangerous to track in the dark. Looking up as Julia disappears into the dark forest, he knows he has to follow. That girl was blinded by her innocence of the world, so sure they could find them. But could he blame her for thinking so?

Her innocence would do more harm than good, Daryl believed, putting the fire out with his bot, going after her as he breathed a deep sigh.

This girl is going to be the death of me.

....

Dawn brings light into the forest, welcoming another day. The morning sun ignites the green colors with such life. Rays of gold shone between nut-brown tree trunks, birds sang their morning songs and insects hummed, filling their silence with its life.

Daryl knells down, brushing dried leaves of some muddied footprints, studying it. He knew it to be of someone but no hope was rising within. Manny walker tracks could be seen making the person's survival slim. It felt pointless to track for people who would probably be dead and likely walkers by now. Regardless, he did it anyway. And why? Daryl didn't really know. Blowing the last leaves away, revealing the footprints, bigger ones: adult. And a smaller one: most likely child.

"Could be Luke's. Or Molly's." "whoever they are, it means they're alive." Julia said, locking behind his shoulder.

"No..". "This means they were alive four or five hours ago." Daryl answers bitterly. Sleep deprived as he was, his voice sounded more deep and rougher than usual.

When can this man stop being so grumpy

"There alive,'' Julia snaps back, stomping ahead, following the tracks.

Daryl watched her walk away as he tiredly stood to full height, leaving a deep sigh going after her, agin.

A dirt road leads them on. Walking a few feet in front of Daryl, Julia looks desperately for any signs for more tracks. Julia wasn't much of a tracker herself, therefore finding it difficult. That didn't stop her from trying. How hard could it be? She keeps on looking, knife tight in her hand. Julia felt silly caring such a big weapon, really she had never used one before, never needed to. But it made her feel safe. Daryl never asked for it bak, as if wanting her to keep it. He could hold his own with his crossbow, she was safer that way, he believed.

Slowly studying the ground a faint trace of someone feeding on wild grapes from the bushes beside the dirt road could be seen, with more tracks following it. Daryl stops, pointing it out to Julia.

"They picked up the pace right here." Daryl Moshend with his hand, towards it. "Got out in a hurry. "Things went bad..." He trails off, as if thinking the rest in his head. Perhaps learning from earlier, (her dislike for his no-support approach).

"Wouldn't kill you to have a little faith." Julia spoke as she felt his stubernes, to think like she did. They would find them if they just tried hard enough. She hoped so.

"Yeah, faith..." "Faith ain't done shit for us."Sure as hell didn't do nothing for that friend of yours." Daryl spoke bluntly.

When that last sentence left his mouth Daryl immediately was filled with regret. Fuck, he shoulde never have spoken. Daryl couldn't help it, he was not good with words.

Julia flinched, visibly, eyes widened and round as she whirls facing him of the mentioning of Marlene.

Her chest tensed to such bluntness. Julia glares at him with 'I can't believe you said that', look. Her lips stretch in a straight line swallowing down the rising hurt and frustration.

He must have noticed her look in her eyes, because he looked at her with eyes that decisive his cruel words. He did not apologize, she didn't expect him to, knowing somewhere within, he was herting to. So she averted her eyes, facing away from him, breaking that awkward silence between them, holstering the knife in her belt. Acting like they never had spoken, busying herself with picking wild grapes opposite to where he stands still at the trace he pointed out.

Daryl didn't dare to say another word, afraid to cause more harm.

Silence.. then

"They'll be hungry when we find them", voice strained, she was obviously hurt.

Julia didn't wanna think of such a possibility, that Marlene died saving her that day , the hope of no one surviving hurt even more. She desired for it to be different. Holding onto hope and denying any other beliefs. And she was frightened. Frightened of a life which entails the world was cruel and unsparing for any good to exist.

Daryl pondered on what to do, he knew he went too far. Apologizing... He didn't really know how to. Thinking of what she just said, he pulls out his black bandana out of his back pocket, gently tapping her arm with it. Perhaps an attempt at an apology?

Like a scolded child he looked down, ashamed, not daring to make eye contact. Feeling undeserving to do so. She takes it from his outstretched arm, meeting his gaze awkwardly then looks down on the bandana, filling it with the grapes. Daryl watched her for a moment before ending it with a quick node.

Daryl sighs, relieved the tense moment had passed.

Motioning with his crossbow to keep on, she hesitates at first, washing him scan the trees with his back towards her a couple feet ahead. Seeing her approach he leads them on.

A snaky path leads them further. Daryl scans the ground like it's second nature; he stops, observing a leaf covered in something. It didn't seem like a good sign by the face he made. Notesting his quietnes, Julia asks.

"what"?

Daryl shakes his head,"That ain't walker blood", In knowing, but he held back, not sounding blunt nor cruel as before.

Inexperienced as she was, the optimism didn't budge. It was just blood, didn't mean they were gone. Meaby she thought if no bodies were found, they would still be alive somewhere.

Two killed walkers laid on the ground. The undead gave her chills down her spine, not used to such terrifying monster yeat. Walking past the walkers she said optimistically.

"The trail keeps going". "They fought them off-.

"No". "Got walker tracks all up and down here". "At least a dozen of them", Daryl casually answered, pointing to the killed walkers on the ground, meaning these two were not the only ones chasing them.

The realization more walkers could be close lurking somewhere, her stomach drops, fear pricks her chest, anxiety burns like a lump stuck in her throat. With wide round eyes she looks for any signs of danger. Daryl turns around facing the opposite direction, eyes still fixed on the walkers tracks, unfazed, as if such horror did not frighten him.

silence ...

A twig snaps

She turns hastily, unsheathing the knife in a death grip. Hair wipes in the air, feeling something -something lurking, but can't pinpoint where. As her eyes darted around in panic, her heart drums hundred miles per hour, hair stands up in the nap of her neck, sensing a horror drawing near.

Without them knowing, a walker sneks towards them. Daryl never heard that twig snap, unknowing, too far to notice. Its decaying body slowly stumbles, dragging its rotten feet forward on the leaf covered ground.

Cold hands grab from behind, startling her. Yelps leave Julia as she struggles in its hold. With its spitty hiss and painful snarls and its teeth close, almost biting into her soft flesh. Werling around panicked, struggling profusely to get out from its painful grip, holding onto her arms. Daryl didn't even flinch. Perfectly responsive as ever with both the mindspace of precision and focus. Acting upon pure instinct Daryl engages with fast feet, aiming his crossbow swiftly, for a good shot to its brain. But the walker was terribly close to biting her now. Throwing the crossbow to the ground with haste, he reaches for his hunting knife, no longer there on his hipe. Right. She has it. Grabbing the walker by the fabric on its back. Daryl yanks it to the ground with a grunt, pining it, with him on top, holding it there with his body weight. She stumbles back a bit off the release from the monster's iron hold. Daryl's arms flex in the struggle, with know weapon in hand to finish it off. Julia looks towards Daryl, seeing the struggle there. Picking up the knife she dropped just a moment ago Julia hurriedly passed it to him from behind, shakingly. Daryl nods quickly in approval, taking it and stabs the walker.

With the knife embedded in its skull the walker turns limp under him. He pushes it away, as if feeling disgusted by it while painting heavily. Reshoring her of the quick thinking he gives a nod, 'you did good'. Standing to full height he gives the walker a quick glance, reshoring its dead before picking up his crossbow.

He breathes a heavy breath of relief as adrenaline pumps through him, awakening every cell in his body, giving the aftertaste of an adrenaline rush. As if this was something that happens, a normal thing.

Still in shock Julia couldn't speak a word. After all, this was the second time a walker came this close, grabbing her like that, and its teeth so terrifying close to her skin. Really, she thought she was about to die. Julia knew she was immune, but being eaten alive would still kill her. Baby hairs were all over, some longer strands falling in her face, others sticking to her neck while some moved against her breaths. Looking upon Daryl reaching down for his crossbow, Julia only stares, uneasy on her feet, waiting for him to make the next move.

Stepping over the walker with the crossbow in one hand the other swinging to his side as he jerked his head to the side, making strands of hair move from his eyes as he told her.

"Come on", in a grunt-like way. Walking past her with long strides, following the trail. His voice always sounded like that. Deep and rumbling, low in his chest.

Without hesitation Julia follows close, leaving now three dead walkers behind.

....

The edge of the forest was behind them, standing along a railroad, close beside one another. The afternoon sun cast its soft light, shadows outstretched upon the ground setting the scene. Julia would have said it looked beautiful, but the walkers feasting upon fresh corpse in the distance, the sight only felt sorrowful. For a moment, their eyes were set, staring and staring, hearing the undead devourer on the railroad tracks, in knowing. A pained look in Daryls face takes in the sight, knowing the ugly truth he knew all along. It hurt more seeing it, a hard pill to swallow.

Sounds of bolts swish in the air, one after another. Daryl takes care of the walkers, ending the last one with his bare hands, piercing its head then pulls it out, retrieving the bolt. Bones and ripped flesh remain, organs no longer where they belong, ripped out. A cruel sight for eyes like hers. It didn't feel real, nothing really did anymore. Never had Julia seen such horror, such gore. Shifting on her feet, frozen in place, rocking slightly, feeling nauseous, slowly taking it in.

And then she sees it....Judith shoe. Daryl ses it too -He knows, walking past her onto the tracks.

Pain burns her chest leading up her throat, tightening it. She tries to inhale - tries to breathe. Hoping for the air to simply stay in her chest. It doesn't. She can't move, can't believe it all. Her feet are uneasy. She tries to hold it in, she fails. Trying to press back the tears burning her eyes but they refuse to obey. They're falling one by one, making her cheeks wetter and wetter, silver lining them. And they keep on cuming as she weeps. It was all too much.

Daryl hears Julias sobs. It pains him deeply, to see the truth crush such a pure soul as hers. It wasn't right, nothing was anymore, she was too young for this world. Looking back he knows the pain she feels, but Daryl doesnt cry, he never really did. Onely moshens with his head to keep on. She doesn't follow. He knew she wouldn't, he couldn't really expect her to. As he stands ahead, upon the train tracks, shoulders hanging like he carried the world and his head hangs in a melancholy manner.

Her heart must be crushed.

He knew that feeling all too well. His, has been all along.

Looking back on her again he sees her there, crying, standing before the bodies. Daryl couldn't do anything, he just let her cry. He wasn't really ok, believing he would never see them again.

People from Woodbury were never going to make it outside the prison walls. They weren't capable of defending nor taking care of themselve. Sume of them were sick and the children were too little. They were never meant to survive.

He knew, he knew.

Dragging her feet along the tracks, close behind, stepping on the planks, one after another. She kept her head low, staring down. They didn't speak, It was better that way. No words felt right anyway.

She understood now.

Surviving is never beautiful, it's not heroic like they tell you in fairytales or movies. It's dirty, it's tears streaming down your face and sobbing in a dark corner. It's filth and blood on your hands and in your face as fear and numbness consumes you.

....

Night had fallen, black clouds covered the sky-not a star to be seen. The trees shook their leaves, dancing with the wind. The breeze had become colder, chilling her a bit, making goosebumps cover the skin. Julia had no idea what she was doing here, in the middle of the woods, with a man she had no choice but to trust. But she did, in the hopes of bringing her to these people that would somehow make a cure. They haven't really spoken about it, not at all in fact. Too much had happened neither did he aske. Was he even gonna help her? She didn't know, didn't have the courage to do so. He had kept her safe this far making it feel too much to ask such a thing.

Sorrowful silence consumed them, flames of red, transitioning to orange and yellow flickers. Dying branches and twigs gasped for their last breaths before tumbling into the ashes. Julia wondered what he thought about when he looked into the fire that way. With somber eyes, holding the motion of the ocean, dark circles under them with slanting inner eyebrows as if in deep thought. His face was solid and drained. She knows he must have felt more than words could say.

The quiet was loud again, torturing him inside as he fed the hungry flames, tosing sticks into it. Sitting opposite to her across the fire, legs crossed with one arm holding his weight, hand flat on the ground behind him. The gaze in the midst of fire and flames, but his mind was far away.

Anyone he gets close to always dies. What did he expect? He did not deserve such luxury, he never did and never will. They had not slept for almost 2 nights, Daryl felt the toll it took on them. No food except a handful of grapes, no water, only sleep deprived and drained. Nothing could fill the void in his chest, filling him to the brim with its numbness. Rick and the others were more of a family he ever had growing up, without them he lost his way. Daryl needed to feel needed, have people depend on him, something worth coming back to, to fight for. The sense of belonging, the sense of worth was all something he craved. Once again he was nothing, nobody. But then he had promised Marlene to keep her safe, he would, he always keeps his word, always. He did feel doubtful, he was nothing like Rick, a born leader, good with all the things he wasn't. Maybe that was why he admired him so, always there calling the shots, going wherever he did. Rick was the big brother he never had, the brother he could look up to, really seeing the man he was supposed to become. Those days are gone, he knows. Daryl felt he had to protect her for the others, they would have wanted him to, Rick would have. Daryl tells him selfe as she rips pages from her diary into the fire, keeping the small flames alive.

Julia's: diary

I'm not gonna die. I believe now. I Believe for humanity. If this doesn't work, I don't know how I could keep going.

...

Further into the night the somber moon lit up the darkness as thunder rumbled in the distance. Upon an dusty road covered in dried leaves and an abandoned car, the forest ends.

Trees shook their branches, leaves rustled as they pushed through, halting their escape from an incoming herd. Upon the road, painting beside one another, cashing their breaths for just a second.

"Come on'', he taps her back as he hurries around the car, keeping a lookout, crossbow out, tens in his hold.

Thunder rumbles above.

Julia tries to start the engine, rotating the key, nothing but empty clicking from it was made. She felt terribly frightened. Running wasn't an option anymore; a car would be the only way of ascap now.

And...suddenly.

Leaves resulted as growling of the herd made them flinch making them share a look of knowing. Fast on his feet, he motioned, beckoning with his hand towards her, guiding her back towards the trunk.

"Come on", quietly, not to attract the walkers.

Yanking the trunk open he makes sure she gets in, looking back before squeezing in across from her, closing it holding a finger to his lips.

Her eyes on his hands, watching him secure the door, knotting the red cloth with haste. Her mouth parted slightly, as shallow breaths sounded, short and unsteady. Knife ready in a deathgrip making knuckles turn white. Walkers crossing the road could be seen through the door crack, as a small spring of light illuminates their faces. Shuffling feet dragged on the dusty road, one after another until a whole herd passed true. Unsettling growls and moans become intense, numbing to her ears. Heavy pounding rocks the car, making her so terribly scared, shivering to the horrifying thought they could be eaten alive. Julia couldn't help but shift her weight trying to ground herself somehow. She tried to inhale -tried to breathe, licking her lips in a soothing manner, nothing worked. Her shallow breath became short, blinkin with round eyes becoming wide with fear. The growls, the moans, the car rocking, it was all so overwhelming, making her squeeze her eyes shut. Thunder booms, its flickering light reflects on Daryl's face, eyes narrow with the crossbow aiming towards the opening. He was calm, leaning back, steady with his hands and breath, holding the crossbow, unmoving. Like nothing faced him, as if this wasn't frightening to him at all. Not like herself, scared out of her mind, freaking out, panicked as wave after wave of walkers passed the road.

Dawn followed as the storm had passed. Walkers were still passing the road, pounding against the car, making it squeak by the impact. Mons had calmed down, not to the same extent as before. Julia's eyes follow the walkers outside then shift to Daryl. Noticing the way she glanced worriedly with eyebrows coming together. He made a reshoring gesture towards her, holding their gaze, nodding in a calming manner, 'it's going to be ok'. Julia nodded heavily. His calm face made the tense feeling dissipate.

As the day wore on, humid heat filled the trunk, making clothes damp and skin glistening with beds of sweat. Julia longed for fresh air, longed for the feeling of it. Heat exhaustion, both of them likely had by now. Dragging sweat off her face, glancing towards Daryl. She didn't miss the way his eyes were narrowed, never leaving his sight from the small gap of the truck dorr, still holding his crossbow steady. No sounds of walkers had been maid for an hour or more, it was hard to tell. So she leaned over tying up the opening of the trunk. With a crank it swung open, fresh air filled their lungs, expanding as if on automatic refill. Eyes Squinting, adjusting to the bright light as piercing rays of the sun fall on the ground, making waves of heat rise off the road.

Filing a plastic bag each gathering a few supplies from the wreckage, she presumed doing whatever he did.

Hanging the black bag over his shoulder with his crossbow in the other hand, he stood in front of her with the country rod ahead of them. For a moment he was looking at her, as if saying he knew she was tired but they had to keep on. Julia was. Shoulders sloughing, face drained of emotion as eyelids were hanging heavily. The weight of two sleepless nights had taken a toll on her.

His gaze shifted as he moved down the country road. Julia stared blankly before trudging after.

....

The mud snake slithered silently, moving in a wave-like motion, its scaly skin shimmers in the sunlight as its tongue occasionally flickers out. Daryl stalks behind, knife deadly in his right and a stick in his left. Approaching stealthily with calculated steps with eyes set on its every move. When the prey within range; he traps its head steadily with the stick, diverting its attention to bite, followed by the killing strike of the knife.

Meanwhile Daryl was out hunting; Julia made up camp using what they had gathered, nothing big just a place to sleep and rest your head. Collecting small droplets of dew of some leaves she fills the plastic bottle with drinkable water. She stops, admiring a ladybug on a leaf, letting it climb up her index finger. It's been a while since seeing one, being behind walls.

Then preparing campfire digging with her hands making a fire pit, filling it with dry leaves and grass scrunched together. Then holds a shard of glass reflecting light with the car mirror from the wreckage, pointing onto the dry material facing the sun, making the focal point as small and round as possible, holding it there until smoke rises. She blows, making fire leap to life (A trick her grandaddy had taught her).

She gazed in awe behind him. With curious eyes, as Daryl skinned the snake. The motion looked so smooth, how he pulled the skin off, holding end up with one outstretched arm while pulling skin with the other. His arms looked strong, flexing the toned muscles there, making his skin look as if it was carved out of marble.

He snapped his head towards her, feeling her gaze there.

Julia did not flinch, didn't move, just kept staring in awe a few feet away. Perhaps he felt somewhat annoyed by her gaze, breaking his concentration from the dressed carcass hanging in his hold, as drops of blood dripped onto the ground.

Julia couldn't help it, finding it fascinating how his skillful hands worked, dressing the animal with the utmost precision and knowledge she had only seen once before. She did not think hunting was a cruel act. Skillful hunters as Daryl killed and ate their game, not just killing and wasting like some douchebag.

The meat was good, filling the hunger but not the aik in her chest. She tried pushing it away, tried to work past it -The alluring thought of numbing it somehow, even if stupid or even reckless, was all Julia could think about. Perched on her knees, digging into the ground picking on the cooked meat in her lap, Julia looks to Daryl munching on his peas, she puts hers down.

"I need a drink."

His only response was leasely tossing a water bottle, not looking at her. It landed before her knees, making Julia toss it to the side.

"No, I mean a real drink...As in alcohol"

Silence ...Julia continues.

"I've never had one, 'Cause I'm under 21...But laws are not exactly around anymore so... She trails off "...I thought we could go find some."

The silence was loud, he was ignoring her.

Julia gauges him, waiting for a response. Nothing as Daryl proceeds to act unresponsive, digging deep into his snake.

letting out a disappointed sigh before speaking in a sing-song voice.

"Okay...Well, enjoy your snake jerky."

Hurt by his silence, her mouth stretched in a line as she rose to her feet, walking away from the camp, taking the knife with her.

Julia found him so odd when he would ignore her like that, as if she wasn't there trying to get his attention. Just munching on that damned snake, like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen or as if the people' they'd lost never meant anything to him.

He was really starting to get on her nerves as she stomped through the woods, speaking under her breath.

"Jerk", looking back towards the camp.

Growling

A gasp escapes her, head snapping towards walkers engaging. Quickly hiding, pushing herself against a tree, the bark digs its rough fibers into her skin, probably will make a mark but she was too frightened to notice. Careful not making a sound she grasps a stone slowly before tossing it in the hopes of making the walkers change direction. With a thud it lands on the ground as her back is pushed against the bark, waiting for them to get interested in the stone. A walker approached terribly close, making her uncheat the knife. Her heart was pumping, chest was screaming, mind was running, breaths became shallow, making her squeeze the knife in a deathgrip. When the walker came so close she thought it would all be over, it stumbled in the other direction, taking the bait heading towards the rock.

Tens and uneasy behind the tree, Julia's gaze darts with eyes in wide circles, too anxious to move.

A twig snapped, making her flinch. It was Daryl, ready to interfere if extra protection was needed. Jumpines quickly turned into embarrassment, making Julia divert her gaze, realizing her stupidity of walking off on her own. Daryl did not say a word, only glaring with eyes off disproving of such reckless behavior. He did not seem angry, perhaps annoyed, as he turned and walked ahead. She follows.

Breaking their silence. She begins.

"I think we made it away. I'm pretty sure we got to go that way to find the booze."

Stumbling into the cord connected to metal clangs, making her step back.

"What the hell?!... You brought me back...I'm not staying in this suck-ass camp!" Julia snaps, whirling around to walk off.

Daryl on the opposite side of the cord shoots forward, grabbing her by the wrist almost harshly, yanking her towards him. ...and even a man of few words he ordered - voice deep and rough.

"Hey!" "You had your fun."

Fun?

Julia flinched in the slightest of the touch of his skin, and she truly believed -He could break her wrist then and there if he really wanted to. Stumbling back, jerking her wrist away, glaring upon his taller frame. Her eyes were on flames, but not angry. No, Julia was desperate, so desperate for Daryl to listen, to show her he felt something.

Daryl didn't miss how small, how delicate Julia was in his hand neither how her round eyes widened when she spoke.

"What the hell is wrong with you?...Do you feel anything?" She questions desperately.

Do you feel anything...Daryl felt a whole lot. He felt more than he would let himself ever believe.

With eyes blue as emeralds, deeper than the ocean itself stairs down on her. It was not cruel nor angry towards her inusating words. His gaze seemed hard, almost pained, as if holding back.

Just beneath where Julia reached his chin, she spoke further with eyes wide and round staring up at him.

"Yeah, you think everything's 'screwed'...I guess that's a feeling." She breathes. "So you want to spend the rest of our lives staring into a fire and 'eating mud snakes'?...Screw that... I'm gonna get to those scientists and cure this thing, if it's the last thing I'll do!.. And..." She breathes, gaze lowering as if reminiscing before looking at him"... we might as well do something."

She was so determined to not give up when she finally had a purpose, she wanted to fight, fight for a better future.

The look on Daryl's face became pind by the words, as if Julia's voice held such force. But no words could leave his mouth. Because Daryl didn't have the courage to say the things he felt. Of his thugs about there being a cure, that Julia could fix it somehow. He could only stand there, as she ends with.

"I can take care of myself and I'm gonna get a damn drink." Leaving him stunned, unable to argue, with back towards the camp.

With one deep sigh he drags his feet, not letting the girl's stubbornness do anything reckless again, on the search for booze -Julia's first ever drink.

....

Julia leads them to a golf club.

"Golfers like to booze it up, right?" Julia asks, as walkers approach in a distance upon the golf course. Daryl looks back pondering, as she urges him on.

"Com on.", Julia takes the lead, (the one who's unfazed this time).

Tapping the crossbow in his hands, fidgeting as if thinking it through one last time, he gives in to this ever so determined girl, following closely behind Julias urging steps.

Passing the "Pine Vista Country Club" sign, standing alongside one another towards the entrance of the building Julia notes.

"Might be people inside"

Or walkers, he notes to himself.

A growing posse of walkers are on their tails. Making Daryl lead them on, urging them to the back entrance. Hurrying up the steps with a golf club in his hands, Julia keeps close on his heel, depending on his protection. Gesturing with his index finger against his lips, motioning her to remember there could be walkers inside, she stays bak as he peaks inside the building, then nods, looking back at her.

"Come on," he urges her, as the cost is clear.

Closing the door after Julia takes a few slow steps entering the lobby, he secures it with the golf club thru the door handles, Daryl gets in front of her, reddy's himself with his crossbow leading the way thru the snarling remaining walkers of the club, bothe dead and undead corpses, three of which gurgle and moan as they hang from the ceiling.

Something bad has happened here.. Then again when hasn't something bad happened to a camp, sins the turn? Daryl notes.

Julia's eyes go wide as she gazes upon the hanging walkers, almost stepping on his heel, seeing such a dark and cruel sight. Could this really be the world now?

Surveying through the remnants of the makeshift camp, they pick up a flashlight each. Swallowing thickly, as a chill sent down her spine, Julia restrains herself from grabbing his arm for comfort, making her grab her hands instead, soothing herself.

Pointing her flashlight upon the table filled with junk and dusty dishes, as if someone had had their last meal. Daryl grabs a backpack and fills it with cash and jewelry, making Julia wrinkle her eyebrows in confusion.

Would he not know that money is useless by now?..Perhaps he thought he could trade it for food or weapons? Julia thinks as she questions his odd behavior.

"Why are you keeping all that stuff?"

He lifted his head, looking up at her from his kneeling position, continuing his hunt for treasures.

Before he can answer Julia's question, their Walker posse catches up with them, knocking on the club's door. Making Daryl swing the backpack on his back as he urges her on.

"Come on", Daryl then slams the club's doors leading them further in, exiting the strange camp and leaving the hanging walkers behind.

Looking through the reaments in the kitchen area, filled with junk, empty food packaging and jars spread out all over the counters, down to the floor, as water drips from a broken pipe above making a wet dripping sound. It was dark with no windows making them depend on their flashlights as they looked through the remains in different parts of the kitchen area.

Most of the wine and liquor bottles are empty, except for a dusty bottle of red wine placed on a ridiculously high shelf in the walk-in. The only way to reach it was to climb. Grabbing it as Julia awkwardly stretched by all her might, tip toeing on the lower shelf, making pans cling against metal in her struggle.

Daryl halts his scavenging, listening in. As no more sound was made he continued looking through stuff in the main kitchen area.

Finally grabbing the bottle Julia steps down, slowly and steady, careful to not make herself trip in the darkness. Exiting the walk-in, satisfied with her find of the red wine, reading the blue label "Maid in 198...

Gasping in sheer horror, a Walker attacks from behind, grabbing Julia with its cold hands. Breaking skin with its filthy nails, she struggles frantically to break free. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, coldent escape. Heart almost pumps out from her chest. Its monstrous snarls reeked of decay, making her stomach curl in repulsion. All alone, in a dark corridor, with only a flashlight and wine bottle in hand. She could feel walls narrowing in, air becoming ice cold as if trapping her with this monster. Think! Smashing the wine bottle with all her might, bashing its head, closing her eyes off the impact. Glass breaks as the wine spills everywhere. Pushed against the wall frightened, unreadable pleads for Daryl leaves her lips. Inches shrink to centimeters as its rotten teeth starve for her flesh. She Pushes back the walker with her back trapped against the wall. Julia doesn't dare to look anymore, holding her breath, turning her head, grimarsing painfully, knowing how this will end.

Time stops...then... a bolt pears its head, it falls limp to the floor.

Daryl stands there panting, lowering the crossbow looking at her as if hes just been sprinting moments ago.

Notesting the dead Walker now on the floor Julia looks at him, out of breath relieved but still shakenabout after the close call. Not accusing but scared she questions.

"Where were you?"

Her eyes were ever so expressive. Pupils are dilated and round, making them appear larger, eyebrows coming together, making Daryl feel the need to assure her somehow.

A breath... then.

"You held on long enuff for me to get to you..shout next time". Meaby not the most reasoring answer but it made her calm down somewhat.

The unsettling altercation leaves only a shattered wine bottle and disappointment, as Julia looks back discovering another room full of corpses in sleeping bags beside one another, with an ominous writing 'WELCOME TO THE DOGTROT' written on the wall. Onely disturbed by sight, Julia catches up to Daryl, leading them down a dark stairway, with flashlights dancing around the corridor blocked by a trophy case and a slanting grandfather clock, making Daryl put the crossbow on top reaching under, carefully moving the clock off the trophy case making it come to a stand, its melody chimes in a dinging way.

This piece of dust is a damn time bomb, Daryl notes.

Shining the flashlight upon the grandfather clock Daryl reads. "Tempus Fugit ''('time flies' in latin), he didn't know latin, but what he could tell was the time, 2:50pm. Seeing she had already headed through the door ending the corridor, he follows.

"This girl was on a mission", Daryl notes, and he was not taking any more chances after that to close call from upstairs.

The gift shop is filled with clean, untouched golf clothes. As if the turn never happened. Seeing a lovely white sweater Julia approche it but gasps, nearly stumbling over a manikin part lying on the floor. Letting out a relieved sigh she prosedes, putting it on, a trace of a smile covers her lips. Meanwhile, Daryl is still on the hunt for cash and expensive trinkets, pocketing whatever he can find.

Julia still thought his behavior was odd.

Displayed in the store, a top half of a woman's corpse impaled onto the bottom half of a mannequin, dressed in a bra, sweater, and pearls label with a sign written in lipstick reading "RICH BITCH."

Daryl stares, not really thinking anything of it. Perhaps seeing such things had made him num?

Never had Julia seen such a cruel way of making art. That someone made this, probably thinking it was fun, made her sympathize with the dead women, thinking it could have been someone she once loved or cared for. As she struggles to remove the corpes-statue Julia pleads looking towards Daryl.

"Help me take her down",she tilts her head.

Softly he answers. "It doesn't matter, she's dead".

"It does matter", Julia insisted softly.

Daryl thinks deeply off her words. Perhaps her due eyes, her big heart to sympathize for someone she never knew but still cared for maid him care, because Julia did.

Seeing Julia struggle to take it down, Daryl helps her by covering the corpse display with a blue sheet.

"Here", he grunts, draping over the cheat ending their visit in the chope back into the corridor.

The grandfather clock goes off, making them flinch. Daryl urges her on, tapping her bake.

"Come on".

"Okay," she oblige.

Just when they were about to enter towards another hallway, they stumbled upon incoming walkers, the dam ticking time bomb/clock attracted the attention of the no longer dormant Walkers residing in the country club.

"Move", Daryl urges her, tapping Julia like before, making her take the lead.

Cornering them in every turn through their escape in the dark hallways leads them further in the country club. As Daryl hurries around the corner opening up to a room, he slows down to a halt.

Fuck it...Might as well take care of it.

Daryl can't take it anymore, all that's happened, he doesn't do feelings, the only thing he knows is using his fists. Anger consumes his senses, all he sees is red. Shooting the first walker with a bolt, persing its head, pushing the other back to the wall with the crossbow. Taking a nearby golf club bashing its head in with a big swing, it falls limp to the floor, as the third walker growls he swings the club with such force it gets stuck in its skull, making him rips it out as it brakes making the end more like the end of a spear. Using it to his advantage he spears the fourth walker through the brain. Kicking back the fifth walker making it stumble back. Daryl unchets his hunting knife from his belt, stabbing the sixth walker agonizingly slow through its eye socket, as if anger had consumed him to the point he found satisfaction in the killing.

Julia watches, disturbed by his sudden rage, looking upon with worry. She wasn't scared, no, not of him but of the anger blinding him. Julia knew he felt sad about what had happened, but it was much worse than she thought. There was just so much rage within his heart. It made her worry of what had plagued his mind to make him like this. But she knew this was not all he was. Just moments ago in the gift chope he showed her otherwise.

Sheathing the knife as the walker he kicked before the last one snarls towards him, he picks up another golf club, pummeling it, grunting heavily with every swing harder than the other, with a last big swing the bloody reaments of the walker sprays all over her new white sweater. She gasps, startled by the gore now all over her, making her glare upon him. He meets her gaze, panting heavily with long strands of hair falling over his eyes. A flash of realization he might have gone too far, seeing her wight sweater covered in gore, but it was done and he needed to get it out of his system.

Seeing Julia exit into another hallway, leaving the sweater behind, he grabs his crossbow and follows still out of breath.

...

Julia leads them to a brighter hallway, opening up to the club bar ahead.

Finely.

"We made it", Julia speaks with a sad tone.

Daryl sees her slow down standing to a halt meeting her gaze as she turns around.

"I know you think this is stupid...And it probably is", she shakes her head. A breath, then. "But... I don't care...All I wanted to do today was lay down and cry, but we don't get to do that". Her eyes turn glassy. "So.." she averts her gaze, shaking her head before continuing. "...Beat up walkers if that makes you feel better." She tried to sound nonchalant, despite her voice trembling.

"I need to do this", ever so determined to get her first drink Julia turns on her heel, continuing towards the club bare. Daryl is taken back by her honesty and bluntness still standing there dumbfounded, before heading towards the bar.

The club bar is ransacked but Walker-free. Julia searches the bar area for anything to drink, meanwhile Daryl continues his pillaging.

Daryl smashes a random framed document then puts it into his pack making her flinch as she walks around the bar counter with a bottle in her hand.

"Did you have to break the glass?"

"No." "You had your drink yet?" He answers.

"No." "But I found this...Peach schnapps". She places it on the bar counter sitting on one of the chers. "Is it good?"

"No", he answers bluntly. Because even at the end, the club members didn't want to inflict more torture onto themselves by drinking "peach schnapps".

passing behind her Daryl proceeds to busy himself playing darts, using the photo of former club presidents as his targets.

"Well, it's the only thing left.", Julia answers with disappointment, gazing towards him.

Giving up finding a clean glass she lets her fingers drum on the counter.

"Who needs a glass?" she sighs sarcastically.

Doleful eyes become glassy, gaze set on the bottle, grabbing it hesitating for a moment, she rocks slightly trying to ground herself.

Glancing back at her as he slows down his game of darts, checking in on her rocking form. He could see the struggle there. How her eyes looked so far away holding the bottle. Fidgeting before throwing another dart her sobbing breaks the silence making him glans again.

Having maintained her resolve throughout their journey, Julia finally breaks down, like a wave washing over her. One tear breaks free running down her cheek. Finely having the real drink in her hands only makes sobs keep on coming. She swallows, brushing the tears away, trying to restrain herself but it makes the pain worse. As if something is stuck in her throat, like a big rock. Julia tried to swallow it down but she couldn't. The more she cried the more difficult it was to breathe, making breaths short and shaky.

It felt unbearable standing there while she cried. Making him clench his jaw. She was simply too good of a person to feel such sadness, she deserved better than this. Slamming the last dart ending his game, he couldn't help but to interfere.

To Julia's surprise Daryl snatches the bottle, throws it on the ground, snapping her fixed attention to him.

Heading towards the exit grabbing the crossbow of the pool table -Daryl turns towards her.

"Ain't gonna have your first drink. Be no damned peach schnapps", he growled, swinging his arm emphasizing his irritation towards the not good enuff peach schnapps on the floor.

Swinging the exit door wide open, demanding but with the intention to make her feel better, Daryl orders.

"Come on".

Her lips quiver a bit, but she does what she is told. Leaving the peach schnapps untouched, wiping her tear stained cheeks...

Pt.2

#apocalypse #beth x daryl #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #fanfics #daryl x y/n #zombie #twd fanfiction #fanfiction #daddy issues

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onedaughterofman · 2 years

Text

Call me (Cardinal Copia x g/n reader)

Summary: You give Copia a warm welcome. He gives you a nice surprise. (Or: maybe pushing the shy Cardinal past his limits has awoken something unholy inside of him).

Tags: +18, some dom/sub dynamics, Copia on his knees for the reader (again), adult content, Copia being a bit of a switch. Around 1.4 K.

When Papa Emeritus III reluctantly asked you to make the recently arrived Cardinal feel at home, this was most likely not what he meant.

In your defense, it’s not really your fault. You tried to be, mostly decent at first, playing it safe and following all the unspoken rules the Clergy set about castes and authority. Obviously, the Cardinal was at a higher power level inside the Ministry than you, and he was also one of the best, most devoted employees. So you tried your best to be respectful, civil, maybe even serious.

But, in the end, it’s not your fault this Cardinal seems to enjoy being on his knees for you.

At first, you told yourself it was just your imagination. Cardinal Copia seemed to be a shy, awkward guy, someone who liked to spend time alone listening to music or with his nose buried in some old books, mumbling to himself under his breath. He seemed like a man not truly used to interacting with people, other than Imperator, to whom he followed around the hallways like a lost puppy.

Every time he was left alone with you, he seemed ready to bolt as soon as possible, as if your mere presence bothered or intimidated him. Still, it was impossible to ignore the way his eyes bored into your body, from time to time. It was not subtle how he stared at your chest, your waist and up and down your legs, like he was in a trance. More than once you caught him licking at his lips, fingers tight in a fist, nodding at whatever you were saying without listening to a single word.

The attention was not unwelcomed, but you weren’t necessarily a patient person. At some point, you got tired of waiting for this man to get his shit together and make a move. When you discover he began awkwardly stalking you around the Ministry during your daily duties, you knew something had to be done.

It was relatively easy to lure him inside an empty room, to wait for him to come inside before slamming his body against the wall. He went docilely, body tense but not strength behind his muscles. Leaning in his personal space, only a few words were enough to make his throat constrict as he swallowed, nodding eagerly.

That encounter ended up with an invitation whispered in his ear, a promise of so much more if he decided to meet you in your quarters tonight.

And so, here he is. On his knees, in front of you.

If this is the first time he does something like this, you don’t know. He seems nervous, muscles rigid and body tight, almost ready to jump out of his skin. As anxious as he might be, Copia remains in place, hands on his thighs and eyes looking up at you in expectation.

There’s raw, pure desire and adoration swirling hypnotically inside those dark pupils, and the thought of fulfilling all his fantasies makes you shiver inside. You don’t let him wait too much. One by one, and agonizingly slow, you begin to undo the zippers and knots that hold your religious habit together, letting it fall to the ground.

The Cardinal’s head follows the piece of cloth, swallowing hard when he realizes more and more of your naked skin is available to him. Although he stays mostly silent, a small whimper manages to escape his lips when your hand caresses down your chest and stomach, fingertips grazing over your hip bones.

And oh, good hell. There’s something about pathetic men, a dark, overly thick lust that makes your guts feel all warm and bothered and your heart race. Your skin is on fire, so hot against the chill of the room, and right now there’s nothing else you want to do more than to stay here and burn right by his side, to consume him down to the bones.

“Cardinal,” you let out, as an airy whisper.“Are you enjoying your stay here?”

For a long moment, there’s only silence.Copia struggles to find his words, body balancing over his heels. “This is… the most welcomed I’ve ever felt anywhere.”

It’s so pathetic. So good. “Is that so? Then, are you going to show some gratitude towards your host?”

The way he almost jumps to his feet is enough of an answer. Even through his clothes, you can feel the heat emanating from his body when your foot comes into contact with his thigh, keeping him in place. “Si, please,” he whispers, breathless. “Tell me what you want.”

The air is too thick inside the room. The Cardinal stays still, shaking in place like he’s almost afraid of his own carnal desires, as if they were too twisted, too dark even for the church of Satan.

“Sit on the bed, then.” He obeys, eagerly. Those pants are too tight for him to hide anything in them, and you must admit it’s bigger than what you initially thought.

Good. There’s enough space on his lap for you to sit comfortably. Copia’s hands dart out to hold you by the waist, but you swat them away with a quick slap. “Don’t touch me without permission. You are going to keep your hands on the mattress and stay very still, unless I say otherwise. I want to make sure you’ll last enough. Understood?”

“Si, si.”

Getting him out of his pants makes him whimper again, head falling back. As your hand wraps around his length, you see how his fingers grasp the bed covers. Slowly, you work up and down even if he seems to be ready to burst at any given moment.

As much as you enjoy the lust and neediness clouding his eyes, you know it’s better to give him a little something before he comes undone from your hand only. In a swift movement, you get right on top of him and begin to descend slowly, not breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown, lips trembling as he sighs.

“Oh, Lucifer.”

The Cardinal tries to move his hips when you bottom out completely. Grabbing his face, your head shakes. “I never said you could move.”

He swallows, brows furrowed and mouth agape. “Please,” Copia whispers, leaning closer to your lips.“I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. You said you'd do what I want.”

“Lo so, però I can’t. I need to move.”

Laughing softly, you shake your head again. There’s raw despair on his face, a strong feeling of want he can’t hide. “You’ll move when I tell you to. Now, be good.”

It’s impossible to know how many minutes he manages to stay still. HIs whimpers and choked out moans fill the room as you rock your hips in an agonizingly slow motion. It’s not nearly enough, that’s more than obvious, and with every second that you continue he becomes more and more desperate.

Finally, his hands seize your waist, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh. “I’m sorry,” he mutters against your skin. “I really can’t anymore.”

Without warning, Copia begins to thrust in a restless manner. It’s impossible to try to stop him when he’s all wild, submerged too deep in his own desires. You knew he had strong, fit thighs and powerful hips, but experiencing it now leaves you breathless.

It’s okay. Any thought inside of your mind is now nothing more than a dull voice. You let him do as he please, nails digging on his back and legs wrapped tight around his waist.

Fuck. This man, as pathetic as he might look, he’s a real pleaser. A natural talent.

Trapped between his arms and pressed over his body, you feel him deep in your abdomen, hitting right where you need him the most. The loud moans resonate on the wall as you scream, not caring about anything but him.

It takes a few moments to recover when you come, legs shaking and back arched. The Cardinal collapses on the bed, dragging you with him. There’s a sharp, pulsing pain on your neck, and running your fingers over the spot you realize why.

Hell. He fucking bit you.

That was… hot.

“Hey,” your breath out, at last, chest heaving and voice shaky,“when do you think you can do that again?”

Copia’s brows furrow, eyes still closed as he muses over your question. “Give me half an hour,” he replies, not looking at you.

“Make it fifteen minutes.”

Surprisingly, he does make it fifteen. Maybe there’s more in this Cardinal than what you initially thought.

A/N: Listen, Cardinal Copia being a pathetic guy? Amazing, wonderful, so beautiful. But Popia showed me another vision, my man can be in charge for a few minutes if he wants to.

Sorry if it's not that good. Ask box is open if you want to say anything!

#ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost bc #ghost band #the band ghost #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia #papa emeritus x reader #cardi c #copia my beloved #my writing #my fics

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themidnightghoul · 3 months

Note

pls give me your fantasy ghoul ideas

I uh, went a bit hard at this so all my thoughts are under the cut because I wrote almost 1K words about fantasy Ghouls oops.

-Swiss bought the tavern five years ago after retiring from adventuring. He was tired of getting hurt and having to heal after especially intense quests so he took the money he had been saving and bought an abandoned tavern in his favorite town.

-He loves to work behind the bar! Getting to put his talents as a Bard to good use by sweet talking his patrons is one of his favorite things to do. Plus, they all love how charming he is and always tip him well.

-He’s been known to bring out his lute on occasion and play some of the songs he wrote while adventuring. People love to hear about the things he had experienced out in the world and he gets to perform again so it’s a win for everyone.

-Dew was part of his old adventuring party and he stuck around to help out with the tavern after Swiss bought it but he got tired of working pretty quickly and found that his talents were in playing cards! So now he spends nights beating patrons in card games and taking their money.

-When the tavern opened, he started a tab and told Swiss he’d pay it at some point. That was five years ago and Swiss hasn’t seen a single coin yet.

-Aether was a traveler passing through town and stayed at the tavern for a night. Dew beat him in cards and Aether immediately fell in love with the firey Wizard, deciding that he didn’t need to be anywhere but wherever Dew was.

-Swiss hired him as a bouncer and it gives Aether the chance to put his Barbarian skills to use.

-Dew will occasionally pick fights with patrons just to see Aether whoop ass and throw them out of the tavern. He loves it when he gets to see him use every one of those beautiful muscles of his.

-Mountain is a Druid who lives on the outskirts of town. He makes potions and sells them to the local shops and makes teas for Swiss to serve in the tavern.

-He loves to Wild Shape into a cat and walk along the bar top to annoy Swiss. But he always sets out a bowl of milk for Mountain to drink from and gives him pets.

-Phantom is a Necromancer who was hired to deal with a slight undead issue in the towns graveyard. The skeletons wouldn’t stay in their graves, it was a big deal.

-They stopped at Swiss’ tavern on the way into town to ask for directions and fell head over heels for Swiss and his smile. At first, they just really liked his teeth, but the more they would get him to smile and laugh, the harder they fell. They love to tell Swiss silly puns to get him to laugh.

-After the skeletons were laid to rest and the wayward Wizard was dealt with (he was raising the dead to try and impress a girl but realized he couldn’t control them and just hid in his house until it was handled), Phantom decided they wanted to stay in town to be with Swiss.

-The two live above the tavern and Swiss has to constantly tell them no, they cannot have his teeth while he’s still using them no matter how pretty they think they are.

-Swiss will never admit it but he loves how strange and unsettling Phantom is.

-Rain is a weather Wizard! He travels to nearby towns to help with managing the weather for successful harvests.

-He also has siren abilities and has been known to swim out in the ocean and lure unsuspecting sailors to their deaths when he gets hungry for human flesh. Dew thinks it’s hot as hell.

-Dew and Rain got into it once (Fire and Water, you know how it goes sometimes) and Rain zapped him with a lightning bolt (not strong enough to kill him, just enough to make a point). Dew’s been hopelessly in love with him ever since.

-Cirrus is a Cleric and works as a healer in town. It’s small but she loves to help people with her gifts. She gets her potions and healing herbs from Mountain. He’s teaching her how to care for the special herbs he uses to craft his potions and she loves it.

-Cumulus is a Fighter and met Cirrus after she took a nasty hit from a troll a few years ago. The two are attached and one is never seen without the other.

-They spend weekends at the tavern and will sing as entertainment. Any tips they get go straight to Swiss because they love the tavern and want to help him keep it going as long as they can.

-Aurora is a Rogue and an assassin for hire. Her claws are deadly but her smile is absolutely killer.

-She met Swiss when she was hired to kill Dew (he beat someone at cards and took their house because they were stupid enough to bet it thinking they would win and hey, it’s not his fault he’s really good at cards, right?) but got her ass beat by Aether.

-Her and Phantom are absolute chaos together. They like to go with her when she’s hired out and they’ll steal teeth from whoever she kills like a little trophy. Swiss is unsettled by it but it makes them happy so who is he to stop them, right?

-Aurora loves to dance when Swiss performs at the tavern! She’s been known to pickpocket patrons but they never notice because how could they pay attention to anything else when a hot little Tiefling is dancing right in front of them?

#midnight answers #im a nerd for fantasy ghouls oh my god #i could probably go on even more #but i figured this was a good start #just remember you asked to hear my ideas okay #fantasy ghouls #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #aurora ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette

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celestialking · 2 years

Text

She's a runner, She's a trackstar

◇ NSFW 18+ only ◇ Minors/Ageless blogs DNI ◇ You will be blocked ◇

Pairing: manhunt!Sapnap , afab!reader

Written: July 24, 2022

Warnings: afab, humiliation, predator/chase, hand on throat,

A/N: shut up I named it that for the meme T^T. This one is rusheddd cause I held onto it for so long and needed to finish it cause I have so many draftssssss. mmmmm i dislike this one

You kicked the dirt half-heartedly. "Sooo no more manhunts," you sighed, shoving your pockets.

Sapnap hummed, twirling his ax off to the side. Everyone else had already gone away leaving just you and your fellow hunter. "I'm bored. Any ideas? Or are you just going to leave and go back to the real world?"

A sudden sharp noise made you look over at him, scared that he had dropped the diamond blade and hurt himself. Instead, he was clasping it tightly, staring at you in such a way that made you tremble. He was staring at you like you were prey. "Let's have our own manhunt, this time I'll hunt you," he grinned.

"Hunt- hunt me? Why can't I hunt you?" You asked, startled.

"I'm too good," Sapnap puffed his chest out. "Besides I really like chasing not being chased,"

You pursed your lips. "Would there be a reward at the end? Or is it just for fun?"

Sapnap waved his hand dismissively. "Eh we'll decide my reward when I win," you raised an eyebrow.

"You mean when I win?"

"So you're in?"

"Yeah. Get Callahan back in here, I'm sure he knows a few seeds off the top of his head,"

Your silent reindeer-like friend did know of a few seeds. "I can't stay, I have something else I'm doing so hopefully the server stays steady," he apologized in-game chat. You both were whisked away to a new world, Callahan tossed a compass to sapnap before leaving wordlessly.

"Sick, this one points to you,"

"Cool" you mumbled. You were far too busy taking in your surroundings. Sapnap was smarter than you gave him credit for. And you weren't nearly as good as Dream. You couldn't think up smart plans other than reusing things he's used against you. "Any rules?"

"Anything we've banned for Dream you can't do either," in that case there was only one other thing you could use, speed. You were faster than Sapnap or at least you were sure you were. "Take your time," Sapnap hummed, interrupting your thoughts.

Right. The manhunt couldn't start until you ran. Well, the badlands didn't look too good so you'd take your chances with the jungle.

You sprinted into the lush green listening as there was no hesitation on Sapnaps part. In fact, he seemed to think you'd go this way, already he was one step ahead. You ducked and weaved through the vines and darkness of the jungle.

Sapnap couldn't help but let a grin overtake his lips. His eyes were glued to you, not once losing sight. This was going to be all sorts of fun. Glancing back quickly you realized he was gone, had you really outrun him? He was also unnaturally quiet.

"Sapnap?"

Silence.

Your heart pounded in your throat. You didn't think being hunted would feel like this. Having always been a hunter you had always felt the exhilaration of chasing not being chased. Had to keep moving though.

While he had disappeared you began gathering wood and running towards a nearby village. "Boo," a voice whispered.

Sapnap's hand barely grasped your wrist, missing just slightly. You yelped, bolting off again. He had come out of nowhere. Had Sapnap been watching you the entire time?

He was so different hunting you than Dream. Sapnap was truly hunting you like prey. Like he couldn't wait to sink his teeth into you. Your name rolled off his tongue softly and smoothly. A gentle coo that was meant to lure you in. You couldn't seem to shake him. He had to get off your tail at some point right? He couldn't get an advantage if he didn't advance in weaponry. You stood behind a villager's house catching your breath.

This was Sapnap's element, whisking through trees and hunting- No stalking his prey; creeping up on them when they are at their weakest. Admittedly he had been a hunter longer than you but you didn't think the experience gap was that large between you two.

You opened your eyes. "Gotcha," you ducked under his arm. How was he getting the drop on you? You stumbled behind him and ran for the abandoned nether portal. There was a piece missing and you just so happened to have gotten one from the blacksmith.

This Sapnap was calm and collected, cornering you as if he were playing with his food. Trapping you and letting you go. It was a game of cat and mouse now. He was a fox and you were a measly "bunny," he chuckled behind you.

"Slow down there sweetheart, you know I'll win," you completed the portal and jumped through. He would be behind you in an instant but you didn't have time to think about that.

You had spawned on the very edge of the fortress, high above the lava. Just as you stumbled away from the molten liquid a hand grabbed your wrist, tossing you to the ground gently. Sapnap had you pinned against the ground with no way of wiggling free.

"I win," he breathed out. You bucked against him, attempting to push him off but to no avail. You stopped squirming, admitting defeat. Your heavy breaths refusing to slow down.

Suddenly you coughed awkwardly as something came to your realization. "Sap," you blushed. "Got a little worked up did you?"

His clothed cock was hard and pressing up against your thigh. "Shut up," he snapped. "I bet if I yank those pants off you're soaked," he retorted.

"Why don't you find out," you shot back.

Sapnap froze looking down at you, splayed against the ground all at his mercy. He hadn't expected you to respond that way. Both of you were still heavily breathing from the chase, pure adrenaline pumping through you.

"Don't mind if I do," he grinned sharply, snapping out of his shock. His fingers grasped your pants tugging them off along with your underwear. "Fucking filthy," he growled as he was proved correct. "Turned on from being hunted like prey,"

You whined letting him move you around as he pleased. Sapnap's hands gripped your thighs holding them open. "Do you like it when I tell you that?" He said softly, looking up at you with dark eyes. "Tell you how fucking dirty you are?"

You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, nodding as you squirmed in his grip. "Don't worry sweetheart, I liked it too," he spoke pressing kisses on your thigh. "Hunting you down, I love the chase," slowly he sucked and nipped. He couldn't help biting into the plush of your thighs. "Loved watching your little doe eyes fill with fear when I got near," Sapnap sat up, watching you drink in every word he spoke. “The way your breath hitched when you felt me grasp you,"

His hand wrapped around your throat gently holding you there. It was sort of grounding "What do you want first hm?"

You were trembling with anticipation. You had thought he might use his mouth but was sorely disappointed when he sat up. Your fingers brushed over your own lips. "You- can, can you use your mouth?" You choked out.

Sapnap chuckled. "Where? Here?" He poked your chest gently.

"Here?" His thumb wiped over your lip.

You shook your head.

"Here?" He cupped between your legs. "Want my mouth on your pretty little cunt?" he shifted down to put his face between your legs. "Okay sweetheart," his tongue dipped into your dripping core, eager to get a taste.

Sapnap didn't hold back, lapping against you. Your thighs began to feel the slight burn from his beard making you squirm more. Your back arched as you let out soft noises for him. Sapnap himself groaned as your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging and pulling. His tongue teased your clit as he began to push a finger or two in.

"Gotta hurry up hun, Dream's expecting me soon, just a quickie. You visit and I'll give you the best night of your life," a little knot of pleasure was heating up in your stomach. The cries of his name got louder and louder until- He chuckled pulling away.

You whined frustrated. "Why?"

"My reward sweetheart, you can cum soon, don't worry," Sapnap didn't bother removing much of his clothing. Just enough for him to be able to fuck you. "Keep your eyes on me," he spoke lowly as he tapped his cock against your hole.

You made eye contact just as Sapnap began pushing in. "Holy shit," he gasped when he was fully in. The way your walls gripped around Sap had him dizzy. His thrusts started slow but began to build speed quickly. You gripped his forearms, eyes barely open. "Don't close them," Sap warned with harsh thrusts.

He could hardly keep his eyes open, however. You just felt so damn good.

Sapnap groaned fucking into you as if his life counted on it. "We'll do this again," he moaned.

"Let you run. Next time I'll really try. Tie you up n fuck you against the nearest tree," his words twisted your stomach.

"Think Dream n George would join? Maybe even Sam?" your nails dug into his forearms making him hiss. The grip on your hips was bruising as he sped up impossibly fast. Sapnap's hips now pistoning into you.

The thought of being hunted by all of them both terrified and excited you. "Fucking feel so good sugar," with every breath he took it was a sinful mix of words bringing you closer and closer to your end.

"S-sap," he had long forgotten about making you keep your eyes open, a thumb dropping to catch your clit in a rough circle.

"Need- gonna-" you could barely speak between moans.

He moaned lowly as you fluttered around him. "Fuck sugar," he choked. You came around him, practically going limp as he fucked you through your orgasm.

The chase between you had worked both of you up. The raven-haired above you wasn't far behind. Whining he filled you up, giving a few more deep thrusts as he did. If this was a quickie you couldn't wait to see what would happen when you came to visit Sapnap next month. Slowly he pulled out watching a little bit of cum drip out.

"What would you want if you won," he asked quietly.

"I don't know," you whined, throwing an arm over your face. "Probably to help edit my next 2 videos. Just- clean me up," you complained.

"With pleasure," he purred before moving his face between your thighs. Dream was going to have to wait just a bit longer.

Reminder: DNI = Do Not Interact

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#celestial:spnp #celestial:scribbles

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aristrocrat · 2 years

Text

Upside Down Feelings

Chapter Eight: The Upside Down

summary: y/n and the crew fight off the demogorgan with an unexpected helper

word count: 5200 (here's a long chapter to hold ya through the weekend)

a/n: okay, i’m really proud of this chapter and just wanted to go ahead and publish it for you all! i’m working on s2 as we speak, please tune in on Monday for s2 ep1 :)))

“-Is everything in the box?” You asked as you walked up to the kitchen table and dug through it, making a mental note of everything inside of it. “Bear trap, gun, bullets, Nancy’s got the gasoline… Jonathan! We need a yo-yo, a lighter, a hammer, and some nails for these bats.”

“On it.”

“So how exactly are we planning on… luring it out?” Nancy looked up at you from the other side of the table. You pursed your lips, reaching in your bag and taking out the pocket knives you lent your brother when he went out looking for Will. “Oh… All of us?”

“No, just me,” You deadpanned. “Yes, dumbass. All of us.”

“Add sanitizing those knives to the list of things to do,” Jonathan muttered from behind you.

You began by screwing in a multitude of bulbs into the dangling christmas lights throughout the house. Jonathan bolted the bear trap to the hallway floor, Nancy loaded the gun and poured gasoline on the carpet, you hammered some nails into a baseball bat and set up the yo-yo alarm before you all came together to finish setting up the bear trap.

“Remember-“

“Straight into Will’s room and-“

“Don’t step on the trap.”

“Wait for the yo-yo to move-“

“Then..” Jonathan struck the lighter. You all let out a shaky breath. “Okay, you ready?”

“Ready,” Nancy said. You looked down to see them holding the knifes up to their palms.

“You idiots are going to cut your palms?” You scoffed, gaining their gaze. “That’s like the stupidest and most painful place to cut. You’re going to need your hands. Cut into your non-dominant upper arms where you normally get vaccines. Jesus, must I walk you through everything?”

They rolled their eyes and moved the knives to their upper arms. You all counted to three and sliced, hissing in pain before quickly moving to the couch. You all sterilized your wounds with alcohol, wincing again as the dripping cotton swab was wiped repeatedly over the cuts. Then you cut off pieces of gauze, giving it to everyone so they could wrap their lacerations securely.

Just as you finished up, there was a faint creaking on the porch. You all looked up.

“Did you hear that?” Nancy whispered. You reached for a bat, wrapping your hand securely around it.

“It’s just the wind,” Jonathan breathed before looking at Nancy. “Don’t worry. My mom, she said the lights speak when it comes.”

“Speak?” She asked.

“Like, think of them as alarms,” He said. She looked up before she continued to wrap his arm.

“Is this too tight?” She asked with a certain look in your eyes that told you that now was a good time to go get a glass of water.

You stood up and began walking to the kitchen when a loud and repetitive banging on the door almost made you fall to the ground from fear.

“Jonathan!” Steve’s voice called. You turned to look at the couple on the couch with confusion. “Are you there, man? It’s-It’s Steve! Listen, I just want to talk!”

You whipped the door open to see a bloodied Steve standing on the porch.

“What are you doing here?!” You hissed.

“He-Y/N? I could as you the same-“

“You need to leave, Steve!” You urged.

“I’m not trying to start anything, okay?”

“I don’t care about that. You need to-“

“No, no, no. Listen, I messed up, okay? I messed up! I messed up. Okay?” His voice raised before it fell into almost a whimper. “Really. Please. I just want to make things right. Starting with you.”

“You’re forgiven!” You said quickly, making him furrow his brows with confusion. “I don’t have time for your excuses. I need you to leave! You have no idea what you just-“

“No, no excuses! Please- just.. Please?” He looked sincerely into your eyes with his own warm gaze. You hated to admit it, but you almost forgot why you were kicking him out to begin with. “What I said about you.. Y/N, I’m so sorry. I had no right. I told them I took you home and they took it as something it wasn’t and hyped me up for it so-so I played along.”

“Steve-“

“Wait. Let me finish,” He shook his head, keeping his eyes on yours as he continued. “I told them that I lied about the whole thing, okay? I told them that I never took you home in that way… I’m sorry, Y/N..”

You furrowed your brows before he leaned his forehead against the doorframe and pouted, making you smile. You all of the sudden understood why Nancy liked him. Strictly from a physical standpoint, of course. You had to cut her some slack; he was very handsome.

“You don’t have to forgive me. I just wanted to let you know that your name is cleared up. Now, could you please let me talk to Jonathan? Please. Ple-..” His gaze caught your bandage and his voice trailed off. “Wh-.. Hey, what happened to your arm?”

He looked up with genuine concern before pulling your arm in for a closer look. You really understood her fascination with that look in his eyes.

“Is that blood?” He muttered. You yanked your arm back.

“It’s nothing!” You said a little too eagerly. “It was an accident.

“Yeah? What’s going on?” He frowned.

“Nothing, Steve. Just leave-“

“Wait a sec. Did he do this to you? Where’s Nancy? Is she hurt too?” He raised his voice, pushing against the door.

“No!” You tried to keep it closed but he out-powered you.

“Y/N, let me in!”

“Nancy? A little help here?!” You called as he pushed the door open. “No. No! No, Steve!”

“What is this- What the fuck-“ He stammered as he looked around at your set up. Nancy and Jonathan were on their feet.

“You need to get out of here!” Jonathan rushed up to him.

“Woah, woah- What is all-“

“Steve, listen to him!”

“I’m not asking you! I’m telling you, get out of here!” Jonathan continued, pushing against his chest.

“What is that smell?” Steve began yelling as he realized just how bad this whole scene was. “Is that gasoline?!

“Steve, get out!” Nancy said pulling up a handgun.

“Nancy, what the fuck?!” You gasped.

“W-wa-wait- WHAT?!” Steve shouted. “What is going on?!”

“You have five seconds to get out of here!” She ordered.

“Okay, is this a joke? Stop. Put the gun down!”

“Nancy-“ You urged.

“I’m doing this for you, Steve.”

“CAN WE JUST CALM DOWN?!” You finally cried. “Put the damn gun down. It’s too late for him to leave. He’s in on this now.”

“Wait. What? In on what?”

“I’m gonna need you to trust me, okay?” You turned to him. He drew in a breath before you interrupted him again.

“Trust you?! I’m literally at gunpoint-“

“STEVE!” You shouted. “You trusted me once. I’m gonna need you to do it again because all of our lives depend on this. Trust me. Trust us.”

He looked over at Nancy and watched as she put the gun down before he nodded.

“Okay, I promise I’ll explain everything as soon as we’re done here but until then? No questions, alright? No time. We’re in danger. Real danger. Look at me,” You placed your hand on his chest to get his attention, gaining his wide eyed gaze. He took the bat you handed him. “There’s a bear trap in the hallway, make sure not to step on it. It’ll shatter your leg. Here’s the important part: stay two steps behind me at all times, and follow every order I give you, got it? I’m just going to need you to fight like hell with us if you wanna live-“

“Y/N,” Nancy muttered from behind you. You turned around and grabbed the other bat. “The lights.”

They began to flicker all around you. Under any other circumstances, you’d dare to call it a beautiful sight. But in that moment, it was the scariest thing you’d ever seen.

“Oh, God. It’s here,” You whispered.

“What? What’s here?!” Steve shouted.

“Where is it?” Nancy pressed her back against Jonathan as they spun around looking for the monster.

“Where is what?!”

“Steve, no questions! Put your back against mine! Now!” You shouted. He followed your orders. “You see anything?”

“No!”

You all pressed against one another, looking around anxiously. It felt like an eternity of anticipation before the wall began to crumble before you. Nancy began shooting at it.

“RUN!” You screamed, feeling Steve’s hand grab at your waist and pull you away instinctively. You grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind you as you ran into the hallway. “JUMP!”

You both jumped over the bear trap with Jonathan and Nancy hot on your heels.

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” Steve shrieked from behind you.

You pulled him into Will’s room and waited for Jonathan and Nancy to come through before slamming it shut.

“JESUS! JESUS!” He turned to you. “What the hell was that?!”

“Shut up!” You all shouted just as the monster screeched in the hallway. Nancy pointed the gun towards the door, Jonathan held his lighter, and you kept your bat up, ready to swing at any given moment. Steve did the same with his. You all panted from fear as it continued to taunt you outside of the door.

“What’s it doing?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t know,” Jonathan breathed.

“Some predators like to play with their pray before killing it,” You whispered, earning a quick and dirty glance from Nancy. “You asked!”

She scoffed before you all returned to looking at the yellow yo-yo, waiting for the beast to step into your trap. The electricity around you jolted around you, making it hard to keep an eye on the yo-yo. Then the lights went back to normal as a piercing silence fell upon the house. You all paused and looked at one another.

“You hear anything?” Nancy asked, looking at Jonathan.

“No,” He said, putting down the lighter’s lid and reaching for the door.

“What are you doing?” Steve hissed. “It might be playing with us!”

“Or it’s gone,” Nancy huffed before Jonathan opened the door. He stepped out slowly; you all followed behind him, looking around only to see an empty house. You made your way out of the hallway and into the living room, scanning every inch of the premises for any signs of life.

“This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy! This is CRAZY! THIS IS CRAZY!” Steve lunged for the phone, pressing three number before dialing. Nancy walked up and took it out of his hand, smashing it against the wall. “What are you doing?! Are you insane?”

“It’s going to come back!” She shouted. “So you need to leave. Right. Now.”

He blinked before dashing to the door and slamming it behind him. You all scoffed, looking at one another with annoyed expressions at his cowardice, but you barely had a moment to recollect yourselves before the lights began to flicker again. You all pressed your backs to one another, twirling around in an effort to try to get a glimpse of it.

“Where is it?” Nancy gasped.

“Come on,” Jonathan muttered. “Come on, you son of a bitch!”

“You see it?!” You called, looking everywhere yet nowhere at once as the lights flickered before it suddenly went black.

Only the sounds of your breathing bounced through the room as you tried to listen for any of the monster’s sounds. It wasn’t until you heard a low growl from directly in front of you that you realized one thing; you were it’s next victim.

“Y/N!” Your friends shouted from behind you. You swung your bat, hitting the monster as hard as you could. It almost reacted as if you’d hit it with a pool noodle, only getting angrier with every swing. Finally, it knocked you off of your feet and you landed on your back with a thud before you felt the heavy weight of the monster on top of you.

You felt it slowly crawl on top of you, feeling its moist skin secretions lubricate your body. You felt your breathing pick up to an unhealthy rate as it’s head finally hovered over your own. It didn’t even have eyes. It’s entire head was occupied by its flower-shaped mouth. It opened it to show you just how big it could get.

You looked into the mouth of the beast, feeling it’s hot breath and seeing as it salivated over you. It was craving the blood you’d taunted it with. It’s spit began dripping on your face as it got closer and closer. A cold chill ran down your body, bringing on goosebumps and the racing of your heart.

“Y/N! NO! Y/N!” Jonathan shouted, lifting the bat you’d dropped.

“Don’t attack it,” You choked out through the fear. “Run.”

It let out another growl of excitement as it expanded its mouth. It didn’t even have a head. It was just mouth. You let out a sob and clenched your eyes shut, prepping for the nothingness that was bound to ensue.

“GO TO HELL, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Nancy shouted before firing off her pistol. Then the beast released you from its clutches and arose to face her. She continued to fire a series of shots at its chest and head to no avail. It seemed to only get more angry. You scrambled back, grabbing your bat from Jonathan’s grip.

The sound of the gun firing was replaced with only clicking. She was out of bullets. You hopped to your feet, ready to land more blows before you heard a grunt and a thud. You looked up to see Steve swinging his bat, landing and dodging blows alike. Finally, he struck it hard, sending it stumble back. You ran up and hit it with all of your force, making it stumble straight into the trap.

“HE’S IN THE TRAP!” Steve shouted.

“HE’S STUCK!” Nancy screamed.

“NOW, JONATHAN! NOW!” You cried.

He struck the lighter before throwing it onto the carpet, sending it up into flames along with the monster. It screeched in pain as you felt the heat of the fire hit you. You covered your face and wrapped an around your best friend as the boys stepped forward to shield you from the heat.

You watched for only a moment longer before Jonathan grabbed the fire extinguisher and put out the flames. You all began coughing as the lights turned back on around you, revealing the heavy amount of smoke in the house. You all panted as you approached the trap.

Only there was nothing in it.

“Where’d it go?” Nancy asked.

“It has to be dead,” Jonathan panted. “It has to be.”

“Guys,” You muttered, pointing up. The string of light bulbs down the hallway began to illuminate one by one, unlike that the erratic light show from before. You all stepped back as the lights approached you. Steve stayed in front of you all, holding his bat in a ready position. You all breathed heavily as you watched it stop and return back to where it came from.

You followed it into the kitchen before Jonathan let out a breath. “Mom? Is that you?”

The light eventually gave out as the presence exited the house. You followed it into the porch, watching as the light post out front began to flicker as well.

“Where’s it going?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t think that’s the monster,” You breathed, earning their gazes. “I think it’s them.”

“Well, what now?” She breathed. You let out a sigh, dropping your bat before taking her into your arms. She didn’t hesitate to return the embrace. You didn’t have to say anything or explain the sudden burst of affection. She knew that it was your way of saying thank you for saving your life. And her hug said the same.

You all sat around in the living room for about an hour before you heard sirens rushing every which way in Hawkins. Somehow, you all knew the fight was over. Hopper made his way to the house to let you know Will made it to the hospital alive and that he’d be alright. Nancy insisted on riding with Jonathan alone, leaving you to hitch a ride with Steve.

“What you did tonight,” You said as soon as Steve put the car into park. He looked over at you to see your gaze was locked on the illuminated Hawkins Emergency Room sign. “You could’ve just as easily drove away, but you chose to come inside and fight. I don’t think we would be alive right now if it wasn’t for you.”

“Why was-uh.. Why was Nancy just standing there shooting at that thing anyway?” He asked, shifting his weight to face you.

“She was trying to distract it because it was on top of me,” You whispered, making his lips part. “It was so close that I could feel it’s breath a-and see every pour in its skin. When it opened its mouth, I-I couldn’t do anything besides close my eyes and just.. wait.”

“Jesus,” He breathed, shaking his head.

“I was so sure. I was already thinking about how my mom and brother would react to the news. But then she started shooting,” You wiped at your cheek, letting out a breathy chuckle before finally turning to look at him. “She’s the most selfless person I know, Steve. And up until today, I always thought she was way too good for you. But you really proved yourself tonight. If you still want her as much as I think you do, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“Seriously?” He grinned.

“Yeah,” You chuckled. “Seriously.”

“Wait.. Does this mean we’re friends again, Henderson?” He dragged out his words.

“Do you really think that I’d be friends with someone who puts Like A Virgin on a make out cassette?” You teased, making him throw his head back in laughter. “Keep dreaming, Harrington. That ship sailed a long time ago.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” He chuckled as you both opened your doors to head into the hospital. “I have a way of rubbing off on people.”

“Oh, is that so?” You laughed. “Makes sense. Making a good first impression was never really your strong suit.”

“True. But I’ve rubbed off on you before,” He smirked.

“Oh please! That was totally different!” You rolled your eyes.

“How so?” He laughed. “Because we were kids? Or because it resulted in sharing our first kisses together?”

“Both!” You shook your head, laughing along with him. “Don’t tell Nancy about that.”

“No way!” He stopped, looking at you with an amused smile. “You never told her?”

“We said it was a practice run and swore we’d never tell anyone,” You turned to face him.

“You stuck to your promise? After all of this time?” He asked softly.

“Well, yeah,” You shrugged. “You didn’t?”

“Hell no,” He scoffed. “I bragged about that kiss for like a year.”

“Huh, so he’s arrogant and a promise breaker,” You smirked, making him chuckle. “Remind me again why I’m putting a good word in for you?”

“Something about saving your life?” He stepped forward, tilting his head and looking down at you with the same smug smile.

“Oh, yeah,” You mocked his facial expression, pushing him away by his chest. He laughed again.

“Wait up, Jonathan!” You heard around the corner. You both turned just in time to see Jonathan jog around the corner of the hospital with Nancy hot on his heels. They both smiled when they saw you. “We left before you! How’d you beat us here?”

“Have you seen the way Steve drives?” You smiled as you all fell into step with one another as you walked into the building. “It’s like he has nine lives or something.”

“Hey! Not true!”

Once you all made your way up to the waiting room, you and Nancy ran into the arms of your brothers, noticing they were a bit despondent. You later found out it was because of the fact that they saw Eleven’s heroic sacrifice in the high school’s science lab.

You all sat anxiously in the waiting room for hours as you waiting for someone to come fetch the boys so they could talk to their friend. In the meantime, you took your usual seat next to Nancy. You took her hand into your own and squeezed. She smiled at you, allowing her tired head to drop on your shoulder. Your brother sat next to you, he placed his head in your lap and fell fast asleep.

No one spoke a word.

You began to doze off before you heard Mike shout, “Guys! Will is up! Will is up!”

The boys all darted into the hospital room.

“We should go and make sure they behave,” Nancy told you. You nodded, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes before standing up and following behind them. It was sweet, watching them all excitedly rant to their old friend. You were so invested in their conversation that you didn’t even notice Nancy was gone until Jonathan turned around.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” He smiled.

“Hey,” You bumped his shoulder with yours, wincing at the pain that shot through you. “Fuck, I forgot about that.”

“I mean, at least we’ll have cool matching scars now,” He smiled.

“Yeah, matching tattoos are for losers,” You agreed, making him chuckle. “So how is he? And your mom?”

“My mom made it out without a scratch and Will’s going to make a full recovery.”

“Thank God,” You let out a breath. “How about you?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that instead.”

“Well, I enough nightmare fuel for a lifetime but other than that?” You shrugged. “I’m mostly okay.”

“Well, then, I’m mostly happy to hear that,” He said. You smiled, placing a gentle hand on his arm before telling Dustin it was time to go.

— 6 MONTHS LATER —

“Ooh, I like this song! Is it new?” Robin looked over at you from the passenger’s seat of your new car.

“Yeah, my mom got me Foreigner’s new album on cassette for Christmas. This is called I Want To Know What Love Is,” You grinned. “Isn’t it good? It’s my favorite from this album.”

“God, you’re so lucky! She got you this new car and a cassette? My parents just gave me ugly sweaters!” She ran her hand over your dashboard in awe, making you laugh.

“It’s not new! It’s almost ten years old,” You laughed as you admired your step dad’s old 1976 Baby Blue Ford Bronco. He told her to give it to you when you got your license but she decided to wait until Christmas Eve since it was at around the same time.

“Jesus, Dustin is taking forever. You might have to run in there,” She frowned.

“Yeah, I’ll be back,” You sighed, hopping out of the car as soon as another one pulled in. You smiled, watching as Jonathan stepped out and jogged to catch up to you. “You here for your little brother too?”

“Yeah, my mom’s almost done with dinner. Woah! Is this yours?” He asked with wide eyes, rubbing a hand over the hood of the SUV.

“Yup! My mom gave it to be today,” You grinned before you both began heading towards the Wheeler’s front door. “It was my step dad’s.”

“Oh, I thought it looked familiar!” He knocked on the door. “That’s pretty cool! Guess you won’t be asking me for any more rides from school then?”

“Don’t you worry, this baby breaks down on the regular,” You chuckled, patting his back. “Can’t get rid of me that easily!”

“Damn it,” He snapped his fingers in a fake and playful frustration as the door opened.

“Hey, kiddos! My goodness, you two make a handsome couple,” Mrs. Wheeler grinned.

“Oh- we’re not-“

“Oh, uh. No, it’s like that that-“

You both looked at one another and laughed before you both said, “We’re just friends.”

“Well, the boys are in the basement,” She smiled, stepping aside to let you in. You said your thank you’s before making your way to the basement, making jokes about her comment and giggling at the wild idea.

“Geez, what’s that smell?” Jonathan smiled as he walked down the stairs. “You guys been playing games all day or just farting?”

The kids erupted into a fit of giggles, blaming on and the other for the smell before both Will and Dustin grabbed their bags and followed you back upstairs.

“Hey, kids!” Mrs. Wheeler greeted again. “Wish your moms a merry Christmas for me, okay?”

“Yeah, thank you!”

“Merry Christmas to you, too!” You said sweetly before turning and heading to the door.

“Hey! Jonathan! Y/N! Wait up!” Nancy called as she ran downstairs, carrying two gifts and handing them to you both. “Merry Christmas.”

“Hold on, I got yours in here somewhere,” You grinned, digging in your backpack until you got the small box. You’d gotten a job and saved up to get Nancy a gold necklace, Jonathan a leather wallet, and you’d given Robin a silver ring as well. You handed them both their own gifts, leaving Jonathan stammering.

“Uh- Thanks,” He breathed. “Um, I-I didn’t get you guys anything. I-I feel bad.”

“I got something for Steve too, could you give it to him if you see him?” You asked.

“He’s in the living room,” She giggled. You nodded before heading over there and seeing him on the couch. He sat up a little straighter when he saw you.

“Hey, Y/N!” He smiled. You tossed him the gift. He scrambled to catch it but finally stabilized it in his hands before furrowing his brows. “What’s this?”

You looked over at Nancy’s father before smiling and waving Steve into the hallway. He gladly followed.

“It’s a proper mixtape for you and Nancy to listen to when you’re together,” You whispered. His lips part before they pulled up into a smile of his own. “I guess it’s my gift to the both of you.”

“You’re kidding,” He threw his head back in laughter, opening it to reveal a cassette with a multitude of songs written in your handwriting on the paper inside and the words Stancy’s Mixtape written in cursive on the front. “I can’t believe you remembered!”

“What? That you put Madonna and Cindy Lauper on a make out playlist? Oh, you are never living that one down,” You smirked, making him chuckle. You looked down to explain the cassette and missed the way his eyes never left your face. “It’s got a lot of songs she told me that she liked and some I think you might like too. I wrote them all right here. Except for the last one. That one’s a surprise.”

“So does this mean we’re friends again?“ He looked into your eyes with a playful smile. You shook your head. “Bullshit! I think I’m starting to rub off on you. Because this seems like a very friendly gift from someone who doesn’t consider me as a friend.”

“Think of this as a thank you. You saved our lives so this is me saving your relationship. I think if that poor girl has to listen to Don’t Stop Believing one more time with your tongue down her throat, she’s going to rip her hair out.”

“Wh- She told me she liked that one!”

“She lied,” You shrugged, making him chuckle again. He looked at you in a way that made chills run down your spine. Surely it was nothing more than an admirable look from a friend, but the way his eyes danced around your face always made you nervous.

There was an odd tension between the two of you ever since that night six months ago. There were times you acted like friends, others where you acted like you absolutely hated one another. Then there were moments like these, where you’d both look into each other’s eyes like there was nothing else in the world you’d rather look at. But you always interrupted them by looking away and respecting the fact that this boy was nothing more to you than your friend’s boyfriend.

“Anyways,” You looked at your feet for a moment before looking back up. “I should probably-“

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” He blinked, before taking one last look at the mixtape and shooting you one last smile. “Thank you. I really appreciate this. Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” You placed a relaxed hand on his arm before heading back to the foyer to see Nancy placing a quick kiss on Jonathan’s cheek. You gave her a quick hug and made your way back to the Bronco with your brother.

“Do I get this car when I turn 16?” He asked you.

“Probably,” You shrugged. “I want to go to Columbia for college. There’s not much of a need for cars in New York City.”

“Yes!” He grinned. “Wait- NEW YORK CITY?! That’s like twelve hours away!”

“Exactly,” You laughed. You continued to argue about the fact that Columbia was simply too far away in Dustin’s opinion and not far enough in yours until you got home after dropping Robin off at her house. “-Dustin, it would only be for four years!”

“Then what?”

“Then I’d probably move to Europe,” You smirked.

“MOM!” He shouted as he ran into the house. “Y/N said she hates us!”

“Not true!” You darted after him. “I told him I want to go to Columbia University.”

“In New York City?!” Your mother gasped dramatically, making you laugh. “I think that’s amazing, sweetie! I’ll help pay for it if you get scholarships.”

“What?!” Dustin shouted as the doorbell rang. “I feel like this is a discussion we should have as a family!”

“Is that the friend you were expecting?” Your mother smiled as she set the table.

“We’re having a guest?” Your brother asked.

“Yeah, he didn’t have any family around to celebrate with so I invited him,” You nodded, heading to the front door and opening it to reveal Eddie. “Hey, you! Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” He smiled, checking over your shoulder to make sure no one was around before pulling you in for a quick and gentle kiss. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course,” You felt a blush creep into your cheeks from the kiss. God, you liked kissing him. “No one should be alone on Christmas.”

“Eddie? He’s our guest?” Dustin questioned from behind you with a smile. “Oh my god!! Best. Christmas. Ever.”

You invited him in before you all sat around the table and ate your food. You proceeded to watch the movie Eddie had brought from home; How The Grinch Stole Christmas. You waited for both your mother and brother called it a night before you snuck him into your room and had a second celebration of your own. Maybe Dustin was onto something: this Christmas was the one for the books.

SEASON 2 CHAPTER 1 ->

———

PLEASE CHECK IN EVERY MONDAY, WEDNESDAY, AND FRIDAY AT 9:00 PM CTD FOR NEW CHAPTERS! (taglist is closed)

As always, please feel free to DM me or leave a comment on my stories! I love to hear your feedback and interact with all of you!! Don’t forget to like and reblog, it really helps me out!

please go check out Stancy’s Mixtape -> there might be a reference to it in the future (specifically to the last song lmaoo)

a/n: AHHHH omg we are OFFICIALLY done with season one!! i can’t believe it but i am so so excited to show you what i have in store for season two!! expect lots of tension and angst between steve and y/n

side note: let’s pretend Foreigner released their album Agent Provocateur in ‘83 instead of ‘84 so that it fits into this plot, mkay? mkay :)

here is the playlist i like to listen to while i write this series Upside Down Feelings ->

———

@werewolfbanshee-love @reallysparklychaos @katsukiswrld @yashirawr @grfields @001andeddiearetodiefor @thatmarvelchick19 @fixtionlover @idkwhyimhere013 @b3rrysoda @tpwkhollandd @dawnyboy @rexorangecouny @kimmchijjajang @efvyqrs @lou-la-lou @nycbaby21 @satsuri3su @agustdeeyaa @boisteroussquirrel @fangeekkk @persephonesnebula @starstruckspring @bbyharlow @edithsvoice @harrycanyonmoonn @sharkswithsocks @xm00nl1ght @okei888 @lqveharrington @earthtostory @boobabietch @captainmarvelindisguise @astrumark @idfvc @hannahdoesstuff @homeofthepeculiar @potatoflavoured @binxy @ultrunning @azgucci @blogginjh @burdenedbliss @chervbs @lentil-s0up @ameliabs-world @mess-is-my-aesthetic @hopefulgardenerfun @crustyassthings

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fearlessinger · 2 years

Text

Time to address the Halcyon Green-shaped elephant in the room aka let me explain to you why I think it’s canon even though it seems like it should not be aka another installment of Tinfoilhatting With Fsinger

I’m really sorry I could not think of a better title. Hope you’re intrigued enough to follow me in this journey anyway.

So. The thing is.

The Halcyon story, taken as it is, does not gel with TOA at all.

And not because it’s OOC for Apollo to have done what Halcyon says he’s done to him… Although I think it is. I think an argument can and should be made – and has been made by @flightfoot before – that this story, taken as it is, is essentially… incompatible with Apollo’s characterization in every other scrap of the RRverse he appears in. (This story, and also the Harpocrates story, which I won’t examine here because it deserves its own post. For now I’ll just say it’s interesting to note that it’s the two additions to Apollo’s background that Rick invented out of whole cloth that share this peculiarity, and I don’t think it’s by mistake).

But whether the Halcyon story breaks the internal consistency of Apollo’s characterization or not is a matter of secondary importance in the face of the fact that the Halcyon story breaks the internal consistency of the TOA narrative as a whole.

Take this excerpt from The Diary Of Luke Castellan:

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

Halcyon shrugged listlessly. The monster spoke for him: “I have lost count. Decades? Because my father is the god of oracles, I was born with the curse of seeing the future. Apollo warned me to keep quiet. He told me I should never share what I saw because it would anger the gods. But many years ago…I simply had to speak. I met a young girl who was destined to die in an accident. I saved her life by telling her the future.”

I tried to focus on the old man, but it was hard not to look at the monster’s mouth—those black lips, the slavering bone-plated jaws.

“I don’t get it…” I forced myself to meet Halcyon’s eyes. “You did something good. Why would that anger the gods?”

“They don’t like mortals meddling with fate,” the leucrota said. “My father cursed me. He forced me to wear these clothes, the skin of Python, who once guarded the Oracle of Delphi, as a reminder that I was not an oracle. He took away my voice and locked me in this mansion, my boyhood home. Then the gods set the leucrotae to guard me. Normally, leucrotae only mimic human speech, but these are linked to my thoughts. They speak for me. They keep me alive as bait, to lure other demigods. It was Apollo’s way of reminding me, forever, that my voice would only lead others to their doom.”

An angry coppery taste filled my mouth. I already knew the gods could be cruel. My deadbeat dad had ignored me for fourteen years. But Halcyon Green’s curse was just plain wrong. It was evil.

Now think back on all the times Apollo compares Nero to Zeus or even Kronos, and all the times he does not include himself too as a term of comparison.

Remember how Apollo equated Nero warning Meg her disobedience would “make him unleash the Beast” to Zeus warning his children to not “get on the wrong side of my lightning bolts”, rightfully recognizing that they are the exact same kind of manipulative abdication to personal responsibility + shifting of the blame onto the injured party that’s a staple of the classic abuser’s playbook? Well, at the same time as he noted that, he was omitting to add that he himself had threatened Halcyon in an almost identical manner, telling his son that to disobey him would “anger the gods”.

And not only was Apollo omitting that, he was explicitly equating himself to Lu instead. Lu, who, yes, was a cog in the abusive machine that kept Meg trapped, but was so against her own wishes, because she really had no other choice, no better options. Lu, who only ever tried to help Meg survive. Who jumped at the chance to help set Meg free as soon as it was offered to her, even knowing that Meg’s freedom would likely come at the cost of her own life.

Remember how Apollo mentally tuned out Nero’s villain monologue right in the middle of the ‘Top 100 Times Apollo Has Failed As A Parent’ section, ensuring that we, the readers, would not risk learning about Halcyon even in this manner?

Because Apollo is the narrator of TOA. He’s the one who chooses what to let us know, and what information he wants to withhold from us.

Bearing this in mind, doesn’t the thought that he’d purposely choose to bury the Halcyon story fill you with rage? It sure has that effect on me! :))) (Yes, those are angry smiles in case you couldn’t tell.)

It’s painfully clear, right from the very beginning of THO, that Apollo’s not oblivious to the nature and mechanics of abuse. Especially abuse perpetrated by parents on their children. He knows exactly what that is and how it works. He calls it by name. He explains it to us and to Meg, repeatedly. He points fingers. At several people.

Never at himself.

Oh, he easily admits to being a “terrible father”. He expresses regret and apologizes for it multiple times. But the implication, all through the 5 books that make up the TOA series, is that he’s guilty of neglect, not of active abuse.

And we know, even though Apollo never even tries to defend himself, that the neglect is not really a free choice on his part. He DOES want to be there for his children. But he can’t. He’s not allowed to. The laws of non interference forbid it, and the consequences of disobeying Olympus’s laws… well the whole series is an example of how dire they can be.

‘Hey, if we don’t get out of this –’

‘None of that talk,’ I chided.

‘Yeah, but I wanted to tell you, I’m glad we had some time together. Like … time time.’

His words warmed me even more than Paul Blofis’s lasagne.

I knew what he meant. While I’d been Lester Papadopoulos, I hadn’t spent much time with Austin, or any of the people I’d stayed with, really, but it had been more than we’d ever spent together when I was a god. [...]

I was tempted to promise we’d do this more often if we survived, but I’d learned that promises are precious. If you’re not absolutely sure you can keep them, you should never make them [...].

So despite how much he wants to – and we know how much he wants to because he tells us, because by the end of the series he’s not hiding it anymore – Apollo can’t promise Austin that they’ll spend more time together, even if they both survive. The uncertainty has nothing to do with the fact that they are currently facing death. Apollo makes it crystal clear.

Right after his triumphant return on Olympus, where he’s welcomed with full honors, he still doesn’t dare state plainly his desire to go back to visit his children and all the mortals who have helped him along the way. “I’ll visit some old friends,” he says, fully knowing how that will be interpreted, and silently accepts Dionysus’ contribution in muddying the waters even further.

I don’t say this to absolve him. It’s right of Apollo to acknowledge that he’s failed his children. That he should have tried more, and harder, to be there for them anyway. That he must try more and harder NOW. And he does.

But none of the above addresses the Halcyon situation at all. The Halcyon situation is simply not the same.

The closest the TOA narrative ever gets to forcing Apollo to tackle a comparable sort of issue is when it introduces Trophonius, the only other son of Apollo whom we see harbor any kind of resentment toward his father… but even in Trophonius’ case, Apollo is guilty of inaction, not of taking active, violent action against his son.

Granted, there’s good reason to suspect that in Trophonius’s time the rules against divine intervention weren’t yet as strict as they are in the modern age, so Apollo does not have that excuse for his inaction there. And Apollo himself admits there was some sort of punitive intent on his part: he felt Trophonius “deserved to face the consequences” of his bad choices. But even considering all this… the Trophonius situation and the Halcyon situation are still light years apart in their substance.

Trophonius used the talent and the opportunities to make it shine that he’d gotten from his father (we can certainly add nepotism to the list of Apollo’s crimes) to fraud and rob his clients, and was left to deal on his own with the fallout of being discovered.

Halcyon was admonished by Apollo to never use the talent he’d inherited, and chose to disregard that admonition to save the life of a little girl. Something which by the way had zero negative consequences that we know of. For this, Apollo personally took it upon himself to actively punish him, by walling him up in his own house and cursing him to become the twisted instrument of death of countless innocent children for the rest of his days.

The two above things… are not the same.

One might even say the two above things stand in contradiction one with the other, but again that’s not the argument I’m making right now. My point is Apollo’s regret for refusing to help Trophonius and Agamethus can’t even begin to cover what Apollo did to Halcyon.

There is nothing in the whole of TOA that can be construed as even just… a viable proxy to at the very least obliquely address the Halcyon story, and what it implies about Apollo as a god, as a person, and as a parent.

And no, Apollo’s memory problems aren’t a good enough excuse for sidestepping this reckoning, because

that only works if we assume the Halcyon story is a single isolated incident and not representative of a pattern of behavior on Apollo’s part… which brings us right back to the idea that it’s actually OOC for Apollo to have done what Halcyon says he’s done to him. And

at the end of the series Apollo gets all of his godly brain power back. And what happens then? He condemns one final, definitive time Zeus’s and Nero’s treatment of their children without even so much as hinting that he himself has been guilty of exactly the same behavior in the past. Not even the distant past, but a few decades ago at most!

Again I ask: doesn’t that fill you with rage? :))

And yet the narrative contract here explicitly requires us to buy into Apollo’s honesty of intentions. No, there is no guarantee that he will manage to keep his promises. There is no guarantee that from now on he will do everything right either. But we are supposed to at least believe that he WANTS to. At the end of the series, Apollo literally asks us to put our faith and trust in him.

But how can we do that in the face of him choosing to never come clean about the Halcyon thing?

We can’t.

So. Where am I going with this? Am I arguing that the novella should be expunged from canon after all?

No, as stated in the title, I am not. There is a very simple way to reconcile the Halcyon novella with the story that is told in TOA, the Apollo that we hear about in the Halcyon novella with the Apollo we got to know in the 5 books that star him as both protagonist and narrator. All we need to do is let ourselves consider the possibility that Halcyon's punishment… was not Apollo's choice.

Yes, Apollo was the one to enact it, there’s no doubt about that. But he wasn’t the one who came up with it. He wasn’t the one who wanted it.

And the clues are there.

All throughout the series, there is one character who is particularly fearful of prophecies. Who condemned Apollo to his own punishment at the end of HOO by citing as a reason that he'd been too quick to name a new Pythia who could speak the future into existence. Who could plausibly have taken issue with Halcyon’s one single act of interference specifically, because it might not look like it but Halcyon saving that little girl's life is the first domino falling in the long chain that will lead to Luke allying with Kronos, the second Titanomachy, and Olympus' stability being threatened thrice in less than a decade. The character whose personal symbols pop up in key moments of the story: the goat Amalthea, the aegis replica destined to Thalia, his own daughter.

“Prophecies,” Apollo tells Meg in THO, rather vehemently, “are the catalysts for every important event—every quest or battle, disaster or miracle, birth or death. Prophecies don’t simply foretell the future. They shape it! They allow the future to happen.”

Zeus takes this to mean that if he can just stop prophecies from being uttered he can prevent any problem from materializing.

Frank looked at Zeus. ‘Um, sir, Your Majesty, can’t you gods just pop over there with us? You’ve got the chariots and the magic powers and whatnot.’

‘Yes!’ Hazel said. ‘We defeated the giants together in two seconds. Let’s all go –’

‘No,’ Zeus said flatly.

‘No?’ Jason asked. ‘But, Father –’

Zeus’s eyes sparked with power, and Jason realized he’d pushed his dad as far as he could for today … and maybe for the next few centuries.

‘That’s the problem with prophecies,’ Zeus growled. ‘When Apollo allowed the Prophecy of Seven to be spoken, and when Hera took it upon herself to interpret the words, the Fates wove the future in such a way that it had only so many possible outcomes, so many solutions. You seven, the demigods, are destined to defeat Gaia. We, the gods, cannot.’

According to Zeus, prophecies constrain the future. They lock people into a predetermined course of action, a predetermined outcome. They take away people’s ability to choose.

There’s a whole debate to be had on whether Zeus is right or not to think so – and a whole other debate to be had on top of that one on whether Zeus truly believes this is the case or just chooses to delude himself that it is because doing so absolves him of responsibility – but for the moment what matters is that Apollo disagrees with him.

‘Zeus was already angry with me for appointing that new girl, Rachel Dare, as my Oracle. Zeus seems to think I hastened the war with Gaia by doing so, since Rachel issued the Prophecy of Seven as soon as I blessed her. But prophecy doesn’t work that way! [...]’

Apollo thinks of prophecy as a guide, not a prison. Ultimately, it’s still up to each individual to make their own choices:

“The only other person I’ve ever known to have this, er, firewood problem, back in the old days, was this prince named Meleager. His mom got the same kind of prophecy when he was a baby. But she never even told Meleager about the firewood. She just hid it and let him live his life. He grew up to be kind of a privileged, arrogant brat.”

Hazel held Frank’s hand with both of hers. “Frank could never be like that.”

“I know,” I said. “Anyway, Meleager ended up killing a bunch of his relatives. His mom was horrified. She went and found the piece of firewood and threw it in the fire. Boom. End of story.”

Hazel shuddered. “That’s horrible.”

“The point is, Frank’s family was honest with him. His grandmother told him the story of Juno’s visit. She let him carry his own lifeline. She didn’t try to protect him from the hard truth. That shaped who he is. [...] By burning his own tinder, he kind of…I don’t know, started a new fire with it. He’s in charge of his own destiny now. Well, as much as any of us are.

Apollo really believes in people’s right to make their own choices. He believes in people’s right to take responsibility for those choices too. But to be able to do that, people need to be informed.

“Die,” I repeated.

“Yeah.”

“Not disappear, not wouldn’t come back, not suffer defeat.”

“Nope. Die. Or more accurately, three letters, starts with D.”

“Not dad, then,” I suggested. “Or dog.”

One fine blond eyebrow crept above the rim of his glasses. “If you seek out the emperor, one of you will dog? No, Apollo, the word was die.”

“Still, that could mean many things. It could mean a trip to the Underworld. It could mean a death such as Leo suffered, where you pop right back to life. It could mean—”

“Now you’re being evasive,” [...] Jason’s stare was unrelenting. I suspected that in the weeks since his talk with Herophile, he had run every scenario. He was well past the bargaining stage in dealing with this prophecy. He had accepted that death meant death, the way Piper McLean had accepted that Oklahoma meant Oklahoma. I didn’t like that.

“Let’s assume you’re correct,” I said. “You didn’t tell Piper the truth because—?”

“You know what happened to her dad.” [...]

“Yes, but you can’t know how the prophecy will unfold.” [...]

Jason shrugged. “[...] I knew you’d be coming to find me. Herophile said so. If you’d just waited another week—”

“Then what?” I demanded. “You would’ve let us lead you cheerily off to your death? How would that have affected Piper’s peace of mind, once she found out?”

Jason’s ears reddened. It struck me just how young he was—no more than seventeen. [...] Despite all his experiences, was it fair of me to expect him to think logically, and consider everyone else’s feelings with perfect clarity, while pondering his own death?

I tried to soften my tone. “You don’t want Piper to die. I understand that. She wouldn’t want you to die. But avoiding prophecies never works. And keeping secrets from friends, especially deadly secrets…that really never works. It’ll be our job to face Caligula together, steal that homicidal maniac’s shoes, and get away without any five-letter words that start with D.”

The scar ticked at the corner of Jason’s mouth. “Donut?”

It’s hard to say for sure how big a part did Jason’s resignation play in sealing his fate. This is not the time for that discussion anyway, but I think it’s important to make note of the fact that Apollo really, really did not like it. That Jason’s resignation is in fact what scared Apollo the most.

I quoted the above passage almost in full because I think it exemplifies and summarizes better than almost anything Apollo’s views on prophecy.

Apollo thinks of prophecy as a beacon in the darkness. It spurs people into action. It lights up their way and pushes them forward, far from the safe stagnancy whose ultimate and truer expression is death (or immortality. But that too is a digression for another time). It doesn’t take away people’s choices: it gives them new ones.

It’s easy to forget, but Apollo is not just the god of prophecy; he is the god of knowledge and truth too. As much as he’s guilty of doing it himself, he does not actually believe in sticking your head in the sand.

"I warned you," a new voice said. [...]

"You dare come here?" Hades growled. "I should blast you to dust!"

"You cannot," the girl said. "The power of Delphi protects me." [...]

"You've killed the woman I loved!" Hades roared. "Your prophecy brought us to this.'" He loomed over the girl, but she didn't flinch.

"Zeus ordained the explosion to destroy the children," she said, "because you defied his will. I had nothing to do with it. And I did warn you to hide them sooner." [...]

"Perhaps I cannot bring back Maria. Nor can I bring you to an early death. But your soul is still mortal, and I can curse you."

All through the course of PJO, HOO and TOA we see Apollo’s oracle – his oracles plural, in fact: the Sibyl of Cumae and the Sibyl of Erythrae too in addition to the Pythia – share everything they know punctually and without fail. It’s their job to warn people about the future on Apollo’s behalf, despite the unwarranted backlash they get for it. Apollo himself is heavily implied to be the one who’s sending demigods their convenient prophetic dreams. And who else but Apollo could be the source of Octavian’s confidence that the Sibylline books had survived the fall of Rome, well before Percy, Hazel and Frank met Ella the harpy?

In TOA, we see Apollo share all that he learns as soon as he learns it, with each and every one of the people he can count on his side. Even when he thinks it will be detrimental, even when he fears their reaction. He still tells them.

The only times we see Apollo be anything less than forthcoming, it’s to cover up the fact that he legitimately does not have the answer. This became extremely clear in TOA, but Percy, who’s much more intuitive than a lot of people give him credit for, had figured it out already in TTC:

"But it's your Oracle," I protested. "Can't you tell us what the prophecy means?"

Apollo sighed. "You might as well ask an artist to explain his art, or ask a poet to explain his poem. It defeats the purpose. The meaning is only clear through the search."

"In other words, you don't know."

Apollo checked his watch. "Ah, look at the time! I have to run. [...]"

So, here’s the million dollar question: why would Apollo be opposed to Hal doing the same thing he himself always does? Sharing Knowledge? Giving a little girl a choice, a chance to save herself?

He wouldn’t. He is not the one who was against it. He is certainly not the one who wanted to see Hal punished for it.

This recontextualizes Halcyon’s words that “Apollo warned me to keep quiet,” because to speak about the future “would anger the gods.” This phrasing is not an indication of Apollo trying to shirk responsibility for the punishment he was threatening his son with. It’s the literal truth. Halcyon putting his powers to good use would anger the gods – not Apollo himself. Gods like Hades who cursed Apollo’s oracle for trying to warn him of imminent danger, or Zeus who stripped Apollo of his immortality for revealing a prophecy “prematurely”. Gods who should very much not be named lest they turn their attention to Apollo and his son.

In this light, I feel it’s pretty illuminating to look back on this line from THO, right out of Apollo’s own mouth:

How could I have been so foolish? Whenever I angered the other gods, those closest to me were struck down.

Of course, Zeus would have been perfectly capable of enacting the punishment himself, much like he'd done with Asclepius, but… with everything we know about Zeus’ parenting and ruling style after TOA… it’s not that hard to imagine he might have wanted to make a point here. It’s not hard to imagine that having to personally deliver the punishment to his own son might have been Apollo’s own punishment for his son’s transgression.

Remember how many times Apollo likens Zeus to Nero? Wouldn’t it make a scary amount of sense for this to be a “Cassius, I’m rewarding you by letting you cut Luguselwa's hands” move on Zeus’ part?

Apollo, in my generosity, I allow you to give your son the horrible news yourself.

And of course Apollo would have taken the offer. Of course he’d have accepted to take part in this sick game. What other choice did he have? Defying his father? Declaring war on the king of the gods? Should he have murdered some of Zeus’ favorite servants again? He’d done it for Asclepius, and still had not been able to win him a better deal than forever jail. Which, granted, would still have been a better deal than the one Halcyon got… provided that Apollo could achieve that kind of victory again.

Something else to consider: Halcyon almost certainly wasn’t Apollo’s only child at the time. And if Apollo had more children, then those children undoubtedly would have become more targets for Zeus’ anger, had their father dared provoke it any further.

Perhaps Apollo should have taken the risk. Perhaps Apollo chose wrong. But there was no path for him to choose that would not lead to the slaughter of innocents.

At least, this way, Apollo could see and speak to Hal one last time. This way, he could leave his son with a promise that his punishment would come to an end.

Because it’s obvious, from Halcyon’s account of his father’s words and actions, that Apollo had foreseen that Luke and Thalia would be the ones to break the curse, and that Hal would be able to escape his misery by dying to save the life of Zeus’ daughter, and therefore had taken care to set up the means for that potential future to be realized.

The book containing the recipe for greek fire, that Hal was strangely confident they would find on his bookshelves.

The safe containing the aegis replica, an item befitting Zeus’ progeny, that only a son of Hermes could successfully open, and that Hal remembers Apollo telling him “was sealed since before [Hal] was born”. Who could have done that, and why, if not Apollo so that Thalia could eventually take rightful ownership of it?

I’d dare suggest, even, that Apollo might have been the one who sent the goat, with the precise intention of luring Thalia and Luke into the trap, knowing that they would make it out thanks to Hal’s sacrifice, with a gift such to ensure that Thalia’s divine father would have no reason to object to the final outcome of Apollo's gamble, and every incentive to overlook how it had been orchestrated.

But of course Apollo would never tell his son “I had no choice” because WHEN DOES HE EVER. Five books and WE are the only souls he’s actually confessed being an abuse victim to, and even to us he’s given zero details. He never makes excuses for himself. He doesn’t think it matters that he could. He holds himself responsible anyway.

He believes that he must, because his father never does.

‘I know you think your punishment was harsh, Apollo.’

I did not answer. I tried my best to keep my expression polite and neutral.

‘But you must understand,’ Zeus continued, ‘only you could have overthrown Python. Only you could have freed the Oracles. And you did it, as I expected. The suffering, the pain along the way… regrettable, but necessary [...].’

I had no choice, is Zeus’ constant refrain. I can’t help you, he tells the demigods. “You did not ask for this,” he tells Jason. “I did not want it.” And yet who could have forced the hand of the king of the gods?

He tells his son “I can’t praise you.” He tells him “I can’t give you credit.” He says “someone must take the blame.” He says “it’s the lightning bolt that hurt you.” He says “you must understand. It was necessary. I had no choice.”

So Apollo refuses to claim the words for himself, even if they are true.

It’s very noble, but also incredibly misguided. It’s the root of all the communication problems he has with his children. The reason why he can’t bring himself to answer Will, and Kayla, and Austin, when they try to tell him that they want him in their lives, not just once or twice, but always, every day. Even they, who know they are loved, have absolutely no idea how much.

“Maybe Apollo meant we’re going to rescue you,” Thalia said.

Hal typed a new sentence: Or maybe I die today.

“Thank you, Mr. Cheerful,” I said. “I thought you could tell the future. You don’t know what will happen?”

Hal typed: I can’t look. It’s too dangerous. You can see what happened to me last time I tried to use my powers.

“Sure,” I grumbled. “Don’t take the risk. You might mess up this nice life you’ve got here.”

I knew that was mean. But the old man’s cowardice annoyed me. He’d let the gods use him as a punching bag for too long. It was time he fought back, preferably before Thalia and I became the leucrotae’s next meal.

Hal lowered his head. His chest was shaking, and I realized he was crying silently.

When Luke and Thalia meet him at the beginning of the tale, Halcyon is resigned to his fate, and terrified that if he tries to fight it he'll be punished even worse, somehow. He's lost all faith in his father's judgment, and, if he ever had any, in his father's promise of freedom too. He's surrendered to utter despair. He resists Luke's demands that he do something, anything, to help both them and himself.

Then Luke manages to open the safe, and Hal begins to realize that… maybe… just maybe... there’s a possibility that his father had not lied to him.

Hal showed us the short novel he’d written: You’re the ones!! You actually got the treasure!! I can’t believe it!! That safe has been sealed since before I was born!! Apollo told me my curse would end when the owner of the treasure claimed it!! If you’re the owner—

He's still terrified. He struggles to let himself dare hope. But eventually he finds the courage to do the right thing once again: use his talent to save the life of these kids who don't deserve to die.

He reads Thalia's future.

And then he reads Luke's.

I could feel Hal’s pulse in my fingers—one, two, three.

His eyes flew open. He yanked his hands away and stared at me in terror.

“Okay,” I said. My tongue felt like sandpaper. “I’m guessing you didn’t see anything good.”

It’s in that moment, as he finds himself in the exact same position his father Apollo had once been, seeing the terrible tragedy in this child’s future that he knows, in spite of his best efforts, he won’t be able to avert… It’s in that moment that Hal finally understands.

Hal picked up his green leather diary. He gestured for me to follow him. We walked to the closet doorway, where Hal took a pen from his jacket and flipped through the book. I saw pages and pages of neat, cramped handwriting. Finally Hal found an empty page and scribbled something.

He handed the book to me.

The note read, Luke, I want you to take this diary. It has my predictions, my notes about the future, my thoughts about where I went wrong. I think it might help you.

I shook my head. “Hal, this is yours. Keep it.”

He took back the book and wrote, You have an important future. Your choices will change the world. You can learn from my mistakes, continue the diary. It might help you with your decisions.

“What decisions?” I asked. “What did you see that scared you so badly?”

His pen hovered over the page for a long time. I think I finally understand why I was cursed, he wrote. Apollo was right. Sometimes the future really is better left a mystery.

“Hal, your father was a jerk. You didn’t deserve—”

Hal tapped the page insistently.

We are not made privy to Hal’s thought processes in detail. Apollo was right, he writes, and he bristles when Luke tries to protest that notion. He taps the page insistently. What is he trying to communicate? Surely he can’t think that Apollo was right to warn him off of trying to use his gift to save people?

Especially because… Halcyon is at this very moment once again defying fate to try and save someone. He is at this very moment trying to save Luke from the terrible future he’s seen.

He knows he doesn’t know enough. He knows he can’t tell Luke what to do. Luke will have to make his own choices. But Hal can make sure those choices will be as informed as possible. Hal wants to give him a chance. He wants to give him hope, something to hang onto when he will be tried. He wants to give Luke what his father had given him.

Because Hal understands now. Not everything, of course, no. He, and Luke and Thalia too, are still missing the most important pieces of the puzzle. But, clearly, Hal understands enough. Enough to make peace in his heart with his father. Enough to trust that he will get the release his father had promised him in death. Enough to die with a prayer in honor of his father on his lips, quite literally dedicating his heroic sacrifice to him.

I heard Halcyon Green, shouting a battle cry: “For Apollo!”

We have no idea what kind of relationship Hal and Apollo had once upon a time. We don’t know what the tone of Hal and Apollo’s last conversation was. Did Apollo allow his heartbreak to show on his face? Did he tell Hal how sorry he was?

Certainly, he would not have blamed Zeus, and he would not have tried to exculpate himself. Which is why Halcyon still ultimately thinks this was Apollo's decision.

And yet, something peculiar happens when Hal narrates his conversations with Apollo. "My father warned me," he says, "my father cursed me". But in between those we get "then the gods set the leucrotae to guard me". The gods. There’s that phrasing again. And it does make me wonder... is this how Apollo presented the whole thing to Hal? Are these Apollo’s own words?

I have to say, I really can see it. This is the will of the gods, Apollo would have said, and just... never specified but NOT MINE. Because he felt that he had no right to Hal’s understanding, let alone Hal’s forgiveness.

Did Hal pick up on that subconsciously anyway?

We don’t know what kind of relationship Hal and Apollo had once upon a time. We know, because Hal tells us, that Hal had faithfully heeded his father’s warning, until the day he met that little girl, and found that his conscience would not allow him to let her die. We know that in the end Hal forgave his father. That Hal, in his last seconds of life, took comfort in his father’s name.

Why would Hal do such a 180 on Apollo in such a short amount of time? Just based on the realization that Apollo had indeed foreseen all this, and prepared accordingly? Because of what he’d seen when he looked into Luke’s future? It’s a hell of a leap from “Apollo can’t punish me any worse than he already has” to “Apollo was right”, and one that really there’s no way to make logical sense of… unless Hal had just been waiting for an excuse, any excuse, to reconcile himself with the memory of his father. Unless, all this time, Hal had wished nothing more than to be able to believe in his father again.

We don’t know what kind of relationship Hal and Apollo had once upon a time. But Hal’s change of heart, and his behavior leading up to his end, would seem to suggest rather a good one. Not too dissimilar, perhaps, from the one Apollo shares with his kids in the present.

Or perhaps Hal was just scared and desperate as he readied himself to die, and grasping for straws because straws were all he got. For all we know, that’s possible too.

But that is not how Hal appears to Luke in his last moments.

He met my eyes, and I finally understood what he was planning. “Don’t,” I said. “We can all make it out.” Hal pursed his lips. He wrote, We both know that’s impossible. I can communicate with the leucrotae. I am the logical choice for bait. You and Thalia wait in the closet. I’ll lure the monsters into the bathroom. I’ll buy you a few seconds to reach the exit panel before I set off the explosion. It’s the only way you’ll have time.

“No,” I said.

But his expression was grim and determined. He didn’t look like a cowardly old man anymore. He looked like a demigod, ready to go out fighting.

I couldn’t believe he was offering to sacrifice his life for two kids he’d just met, especially after he’d suffered for so many years. And yet, I didn’t need pen and paper to see what he was thinking. This was his chance at redemption. He would do one last heroic thing, and his curse would end today, just as Apollo had foreseen.

He scribbled something and handed me the diary. The last word read: Promise.

I took a deep breath, and closed the book. “Yeah. I promise.”

In his last moments, Hal is full of dignity and hope. He finally finds the courage to stand up tall and proud of himself again. I feel it would be doing Hal a disservice to assume that, in those last moments, his renewed faith in his father was grounded in delusion rather than truth.

What was he trying to communicate to Luke in their last exchange? What did he think Luke could learn from his diary? What is the promise that he asked Luke to make? We’ll never know. Luke chooses to not tell us.

Luke chooses to erase Hal’s last words to him from the narrative, and substitute his own.

I couldn’t shake my grief.

Promise, Halcyon Green had written.

I promise, Hal, I thought. I will learn from your mistakes. If the gods ever treat me that badly, I will fight back.

There’s a lot to be said about the way Halcyon and Luke influence each other in opposite directions. About the way Halcyon’s death and Luke’s death mirror each other. About the way Halcyon’s relationship with Apollo mirrors Luke’s relationship with Hermes. I know @tsarinatorment has excellent thoughts re: this, and not only this, that I hope she will share.

But for now this is already long enough, and so to bring us back to my original point… No, the Halcyon story, taken as it is, does not gel with TOA at all. But once you dig just a little deeper under the surface of it… I’d dare say it becomes impossible to rule it out of canon, because it fits too well within canon. It fills in the narrative blanks left by Apollo, who never tells us the details of Zeus’ abuse, and therefore… never tells us about Hal.

To tell us about Hal would require Apollo to admit that he had no choice. No good ones at least. It would require Apollo to admit that he’s not at fault.

But how can he not be at fault? He literally did do this. It was his words that cursed his son. His hands that delivered the instruments of torture.

So Apollo doesn’t talk about Halcyon. But when he calls himself a terrible father, when he berates himself for his failures as a parent, as a person, as a god, you bet he’s holding himself responsible for Halcyon too.

And in this light it’s interesting, I think, to note that despite how Apollo feels re: prophecy there are no known present day children of Apollo who possess the power to look into the future. There’s only Octavian, who is a legacy, and whose gift is implied to have been passed down his family line, and perhaps Georgina, who is in all likelihood a legacy too, possibly even descended from a different branch of Octavian’s family.

We know from Hephaestus that sometimes gods can choose to suppress the transmission of a specific ability to their children. Hephaestus did it with fire, and I don’t think it’s farfetched to imagine Apollo would have chosen to do it with prophecy after Halcyon. Again I know Tsari has given this far more thought than I have, so I pass the metaphorical mic to her.

Finally, I want to talk about how this whole novella is basically a concentrated allegory of TOA, featuring Halcyon as a stand-in for Apollo himself. Forever trapped in his childhood home full of monsters who have stolen and perverted his voice, and that he can never escape because they are inextricably tied to him, and him to them. Punished for the crime of having a functioning moral compass and having chosen to follow it, and after years of death & tragedy that are framed as a direct result of that choice... he has almost completely internalized the idea that he might actually have been in the wrong. He's surrendered. He’s not only accepted the slaughter but has even become complicit in it. He’s become a monster himself.

And then we get Thalia & Luke who are a stand in for all the people Apollo bonds with on his journey, who give him hope again, who reaffirm his conviction that there IS, there HAS TO BE a better way, and reignite his will to fight. After all, he realizes, what does he have left to lose?

I turned my face to the sky. “If you want to punish me, Father, be my guest, but have the courage to hurt me directly, not my mortal companion. BE A MAN!”

To me this novella absolutely reads like a first outline of the TOA series that Rick might have later decided to flesh out and expand upon. The core themes, the central ideas are all in there.

But Halcyon can only find redemption through death. The narrative denies him the chance to survive and do better. He’s only a man, and for him the odds are impossible. He dies thinking that on some level he deserves it – he brought this on himself. He dies still thinking that maybe he was wrong to save that little girl's life.

I wonder if in the first draft of TOA Apollo was meant to die at the end like Halcyon did. In a way he did die, in fact. But he’s a god, and for a god no odds are impossible. So Apollo is reborn through the power that he finally allowed himself to reclaim, because he finally has learned to believe that he was right to want to use it. He was right to want to help people. He was right. He learns the lesson that Halcyon never could. He is afforded the opportunity to keep trying.

#rrverse #trials of apollo #toa #toa meta #halcyon green #the diary of luke castellan

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bas-writes · 2 years

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a/n: *shakes depression by its collar* why does this thing always get into my way... should have been much earlier, for what I apologize, but here's the second entry for @onepiece-reader-exchange that I've been chewing on for weeks *clears throat* anyway, it's here and I hope y'all will enjoy!

Stolen Crumbs of Kisses

Character: Smoker Reader: gender neutral CW: fluff, established relationship, tooth-roting fluff, fluff without plot Word Count: 1336 Synopsis: Smoker, a man born to live behind the polar circle, hasn’t been fond of your warmth-seeking tendencies since they appeared in your relationship. Even now, he sits in nothing but sweatpants, not a single trace of goosebumps on his skin, not a single digit tracing your side turned ice-cold. You can’t blame him for bolting from your dream nest. But you still missed him, your body awakened as soon as it sensed his side of the bed empty. Written for: @bulle-blackhole

“It’s late.”

Smoker’s gaze barely flicked over the book before returning to its prior place, not a crumb of word given in response. Your presence has been equally accepted and ignored, as if you were a vase someone put in the mess. Frankly, you expected as much, when he was having his time, nothing less than a tropical storm could lure him out of his safe, cozy and silent sphere. So, you repeat yourself, louder this time, with a perfectly calculated creak of the door frame you leaned against.

His eyes linger on you for longer, eyebrows knit together, but the words don’t come out as irritated, “And so?”

“You’re not asleep.” Adjusting the blanket on your shoulders, you decide to step inside. It’s warmer than the rest of the ship, even your shared cabin, but still the dampness of air gives you chills. After the incident of Alabasta you were given a different ship, more sturdy and heavily armed, but her warming system was far from good.

“Well, so you are.” Smoker watches you out of the corner of his eye, lets out a muffled, grumbling sound as you lean over the chair, trying to peek into the book. “You should be in bed. Not here.”

“You don’t like me here?” Cooing innocently, you fight over every inch of his personal space, step by step crumbling his grumpy resistance until he finally leans back enough for you to slip into his lap.

“At this hour—” he generously lets you squirm and jostle until you fit your frame, together with the blanket, as you please— “I like you better in bed.”

“Well, I could say the same about you.” Much to his displeasure, expressed with a loud huff, you take his reading glasses off. They left a little mark at the base of his nose, and you simply can’t stop yourself from kissing it.

Smoker growls louder but doesn’t push you away. If it was earlier, he would be more against such a shameless demonstration of affection—after all, one of his men, or Davy Jones Tashigi, could walk on you—but so late at night the risk is so little that he can lower his guard.

“You turned the bed into a goddammit nest.” He, finally, breaks and wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you closer. You accept the offer with a very pleased sigh, extra warmth and a cushion—his chest and its delicious softness of relaxed muscles—always appreciated. And especially now, in the hellish vortex of winter island sea.

Whatever you had been thinking about your cold tolerance, everything was thrown out of the consideration once you tasted what Grandline really meant. If you could, you would stuff even a fire type logia user between the layers of blankets and duvets, everything to provide an extra crumble of warmth.

Smoker, a man born to live behind the polar circle, hasn’t been fond of your warmth-seeking tendencies since they appeared in your relationship. Even now, he sits in nothing but sweatpants, not a single trace of goosebumps on his skin, not a single digit tracing your side turned ice-cold. You can’t blame him for bolting from your dream nest. But you still missed him, your body awakened as soon as it sensed his side of the bed empty.

“It feels weird without you.” You word your concerns, resting cheek against his pecs. Soft, quite thick hair, as white as on his head, tickles your nose, and his heartbeat rumbles in your ears. Your favorite place to be, serene and welcoming, full of his scent and touch.

Smoker doesn’t answer you immediately. Lost in silence, he traces aimless lines on your side, from the hip to shoulder and back, the other hand twitching uneasily. He’s looking for a cigar, but his will is stronger than the addiction. He promised to not smoke when you’re being so close, so he keeps to his promise. Even if a draw would help him find the right words. They don’t come easy to him, even after all this time you’re together.

Finally, both arms wrap around you as he leans back, prison of the hold as strong as loving, “Sorry. Thought you were asleep.”

“You don’t need much to abandon me, hm?” You tease, not without a smirk as you hear him groaning.

“Y/N—” he rolls eyes, hands squeezing you with affection and equally teasing warning— “just wanted to read a book.”

“You could do it in bed.”

“And wake you up?”

“Well—” You jab his chest. “—as you can see, I’m awake anyway.”

A heavy sigh and, after a longer consideration, a kiss pressed to the top of your head is, what you’ve thought, his answer, but soon after, shy and silent, and embarrassed to holy heavens, he whispers, “I guess, this means I have to…take the punishment, yes?”

Surprised, you peel away from his chest, now face to Smoker’s red, flustered face, and slightly panicked eyes, studying you with wary attention. “Did you just—”

“Forget it.” He avoids your gaze, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “Forget I said it.”

“Did you willingly ask me to punish you?”

“I told you to forget it!” He almost snaps, his baritone nearly breaking in panic. “O-or do it, now. And quickly.”

You can’t help a little chuckle. He still can’t ask for affection in a normal way, this overgrown, grumpy dumbass. “Well, I guess I don’t have a choice. I need to severely punish you for your insubordination, Commodore Smoker.”

He grouses, almost whines, your name, but it quickly molds into a pleased sigh, when your lips begin “the punishment”. You start from his chest, barely pressing them to his skin, affection softer than the layer of hair in between. Now the goosebumps appear, they graze you as you work your kisses up, along the crook of his neck and further. There’s nothing heated about them, you’re as innocent as you possibly can, but his arms tighten around you the closer you get to his jaw. By the time you kiss his cheeks, giggling at the sensation of the light, evening scruff, he’s nearly trembling, the need to hide his embarrassment and save his dignity fighting the love for your touch. The latter always wins once your lips meet. With the last, desperate groan, Smoker lets the barrage of kisses swallow him and answers your ministration, in the same, deliciously sweet manner, his tongue darting out only for a split second, as if to steal a taste of you before you continue with your kissy assault.

You love this moment, when his distance crumbles, and he relaxes, melts even, in your arms, letting you do as you please. He doesn’t even roll eyes anymore, having them closed, his face as red as serene. If only you could take a photo of him right now…

“Fuck, Y/N… Are you happy now?” Even his voice can’t be stern anymore, even if he tries so hard.

“Would be happier in bed.” You press one last kiss, on his lips again, and move out of his reach, before he can grab it and mold it as he wants. He likes to have his way, even if it’s but a whine of an animal who tries to be bigger than it is, but you’re not having any of this right now. “With you. I need my personal body pillow.”

“You will boil me alive.” The resistance is futile, and he knows it well, keeping his grumpy attitude just for the sake of pride. His arms are ready to scoop you up, soon having you in the air, wrapped tight in the blanket, and thrown over a shoulder.

“I can walk,” your protest is as fake as his, words drowning in giggles when he gives you a playful spank and shuts the light off with an elbow.

“If I could stand your goddammit ticklish tortures, then you can stand playing a bag of potatoes for a minute.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

“Everything for you, my love.”

#onepiecereaderexchange #smoker x reader #smoker x you #smoker x yn #op smoker x reader #op smoker x you #op smoker x yn #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece imagine #one piece reader insert #bas writes #smoker #gender neutral reader #one piece x yn

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foggyfanfic · 10 months

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Meet Cute

One Shot Summary: Megamind takes a hostage in order to facilitate his latest prison break. That hostage just so happens to be up and coming investigative reporter Roxanne Ritchi.

Megamind had been setting up this particular prison break for the past two years.

It was the warden himself who had inadvertently inspired the idea. In the wake of Megamind’s first glorious battle with Mr. Goody Two Shoes a whole slew of reporters had contacted the prison hoping to interview the newly declared super villain. Megamind was happy to revel in the attention, not to mention practice his evil monologues, but the warden had insisted on vetting each reporter and sitting in on each interview, along with a bunch of guards.

He had even gone so far as to set aside a specific room for Megamind to receive visitors, since he had a tendency to transform any technology put in his hands, including the phones most prisoners used to talk to their visitors.

It had, of course, clued Megamind into the fact that the warden was expecting an escape attempt, maybe even a hostage situation.

That sounded like a fantastic bit of fun.

So he bided his time, allowing interview after interview to pass without incident. Meanwhile, he did his best to entertain the guards, turn the interview into a show, a game for them to watch. Luring them into a false sense of security.

All while he figured out how to smuggle a de-gun into the prison.

The solution turned out to be marvelously simple, or rather, the solution had been to simplify the de-gun. He constructed one that could only dehydrate objects, to allow room for all sorts of stealth technology as well as a self dehydrating feature in a pistol small enough for him to hide in his sock.

With the tech and the guards all sorted, Megamind only had to wait until everybody’s favorite meathead broke one of his limbs. The dehydrated, simplified gun fit easily (if not comfortably) into the palm of his cast, which was scanned, but obviously not removed for his usual strip search. Once it was in the prison Megamind transferred it around his person as needed to keep it hidden until the cast was removed and he was ready to make his daring escape.

Finally, all he had to do was choose the perfect hostage. Somebody young, and relatively inexperienced, but not so young and inexperienced that they’d try to fight him. He wanted to hit that sweet spot where the hostage would freeze up and do as he said.

Preferably a female, partly for the optics, but mostly because he would be dragging this person through the prison and possibly carrying them if their legs gave out in panic. He was slightly stronger than your average human male, but men could be so bulky to carry around. So a woman, his size or smaller.

With all this in mind he selected an up and coming investigative reporter who apparently wanted to ask him about his inventions for a monthly science segment. She had been building her career on the local broadcast for the past three years and before that had apparently been a correspondent in DC.

Her name was… something, something with an R. He had really only skimmed over her name when he was considering candidates. Evil gods, what was it?

“Roxanne Ritchi, nice to meet you,” the brunette woman standing in the doorway of his visitor room held out her hand to the warden, who frowned at it but shook it anyway.

Ah yes, that was it. Roxanne Ritchi. Alliterative, good, audiences loved alliteration. She was standing behind the red line painted on the floor under the door jamb while a pair of armed guards shackled Megamind to his “visitor chair”. The shackles went around his wrists and were bolted to the floor beneath the table so that he wouldn’t be able to bring his hands anywhere near his visitor, another chain wound around his waist to keep him attached to his chair.

“Miss Ritchi,” the warden gruffed, “you’ve been briefed?”

“Yes sir,” she chirped, “no cameras, audio recording only, don’t hand Megamind any technology. Don’t enter until you say so. Stay seated until I’m told to stand. Don’t enter Megamind’s ‘bubble’. And don’t lean my arms on the table.”

“Good. Is he ready?”

“Yessir.”

“Alright. Go ahead Miss.”

“Thank you,” her boot heels clicked on the concrete floor as she walked around the blue circle painted around his chair. She sat down across from him and treated him to a surprisingly polite smile as she got out her audio recorder. Oh good, a professional, hopefully that meant she would remember enough details to give an accurate report on the news.

“Hello Miss Ritchi,” he said, in his best villainous pur.

“Hello,” she said, in a bright and casual voice, “before I begin recording, is Megamind the name you prefer to be called?”

He was slightly taken aback by the courteous question, but recovered quickly, “It is.”

“Great, and this is a basic outline of what I’m planning to ask you,” she held up a sheet of paper with large bullet points so he could read it from across the oversized table, “obviously if you say something interesting I’ll chase the lead, but this is for the science segment so if anything is too personal you can ask for it to be stricken from the record.”

It took him a little bit longer to recover from his surprise this time, fortunately he had the excuse of examining the outline she was holding up.

He cocked his head and flicked his eyes to her face, not bothering to disguise his scrutiny of her. He’d found that most people became nervous when he examined them like this.

Miss Roxanne Ritchi did not show any sign of nerves. She was an objectively beautiful being, with symmetrical, well proportioned features and large, expressive blue eyes. Her brown hair was soft looking and shiny and fell to her shoulders in a stylish bob. No doubt to help distinguish herself from Susanne Sawyer on channel ten, who had brown hair that fell halfway down her back in perfectly styled waves.

Twitching at the corner of Roxanne’s pleasantly pink lips was a quiet smile of amusement, as if she knew something he didn’t. The smile only seemed to grow stronger as he watched her.

“I’m surprised at you Miss Ritchi, don’t you want to know what could drive a man to a life of crime and villainy?” he drawled, smirking at her sardonically. Around them, the guards started to grin, their shoulders relaxing a tad bit.

This was the game he’d played for every other interview, offering reporters a chance at his back story then seeing how ridiculous a tale he could spin.

“Oh, I already know what drove you to a life of crime,” she waved his suggestion off, putting the outline on the table behind the dashed line they weren’t allowed to cross, “it was the death of your father at the hands of a rabid police dog.”

Megamind felt his grin grow larger, that was the story he’d fed the guy from CNN.

“Although, I would love it if you could clarify the timeline, was your father killed by a rabid police dog before or after he died in a lab accident?”

His grin froze. The lab accident was what he’d told the Channel 10 news. Her amused smile bloomed and she raised one eyebrow.

“Oh ho ho ho,” he found himself laughing, “you’re not accusing me of lying now, are you?”

“Me? Accuse the self proclaimed Master of all Villainy of lying?” she made a thoughtful hum, “Of course not, I’m a professional. Are these questions ok?”

“I will not be confirming how any of my tech works,” Megamind said, eyeing the last two bullet points, “there are too many interested parties trying to steal my designs.”

She pursed her lips, but sighed and nodded, taking the outline and putting it back in her bag, “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Science Saturday focused more on the scientist than the actual science.”

“Hm, yes, I particularly liked your segment on Bill Nye, and the science of education,” Megamind said, hitting the careful balance between villainous and conversational with practiced ease.

“Oh, thank you, that was a really fun one. Although the station cut out some of my favorite parts,” she adjusted her posture, sitting up straighter, “Anyways, you ready to begin?”

“Oh yes Miss Ritchi,” he leaned forward as far as his chains would allow, “let’s begin.”

He started the process of disassembling his shackles without alerting any of the guards, the trick was to be slow and steady.

She pressed record and laid the rectangular recorder on the table. Also on her side of the dashed line.

“So, let’s begin with your educational background,” she sat back in her chair, looking rather relaxed for somebody who was addressing a supervillain, “should I be calling you Dr. Megamind?”

He snorted, “I have no need for a formal education, I am a natural genius.”

“Even geniuses need to acquire new information from somewhere.”

“I suppose,” he allowed, equal parts annoyed and amused that she hadn’t let him dodge the question.

“So, where did you learn engineering, science, and battle tactics?”

His eyebrow ticked over the words “battle tactics”, most people didn’t notice that his fights with Metro Man utilized actual strategy. Probably because Metro Man’s strategy of Punch the Problem Until It Goes Away was as flashy as it was unrefined.

“Through experimentation and exploration,” he admitted, “and books.”

“That’s it?”

For a split second Megamind was almost tempted to tell her about his short stint at school, but decided she didn’t need to know that, instead he said, “I absorb and synthesize information faster than any teacher can teach it. And my method of doing so is not compatible with a formal classroom.”

“Hm, interesting. When you say synthesize, what do you mean exactly?”

“I-,” he paused, trying to figure out how to put this into words, “I suppose you could say I take new information and examine every logical conclusion one could draw from it. I disregard every conclusion that is already disproven by something else I know, and seek out the evidence to prove or disprove every other hypothesis.”

Miss Ritchi tilted her head, eyes ticking back and forth over his features, “Sooo, I’m guessing this method of learning doesn’t work as well for the soft sciences? The ones that don’t follow logical patterns?”

“Looking for my weaknesses Miss Ritchi,” he stretched his grin into something that resembled a snarl, lowering his brows as he stared her down.

But she just snorted and rolled her eyes, “That’s right, you caught me, as soon as we finish up here I’m going to march up to Metro Man and suggest that the next time you come at him with a giant robot, he should give you a pop quiz in psychology.”

Somebody in the room chuckled, and Megamind had to admit, it was an amusing image, “Oh I wish he would challenge me to a battle of wit. I must admit, his banter needs a bit of work.”

A look flickered across her face, it was quick, quick enough that he wasn’t sure it had even been there, but for a moment it looked like she had almost started to nod.

“So, what do you think of art then?”

“I quite enjoy it, especially music.”

“But science is what comes easiest to you?”

“I don't know if I would say that… it’s the most fun,” he corrected her, music also came to him pretty easy, but he enjoyed it a tiny bit less than he did inventing, “I rather enjoy the challenge of taking something of pure fantasy and making it reality.”

“Like giant robots?”

“Exactly!”

She didn’t bother suppressing her nod of agreement this time, “So then what would you say has been your most fun invention to create?”

“My most fun? Hm,” he pursed his lips, shifting in his seat, nobody had ever asked him that before, in fact her own outline had replaced this question with the somewhat cliched “what’s your favorite invention” question that he’d received a thousand times, “the Brain Bots. Not only did I have to figure out the technology and programming from scratch, but it required I branch out into near-oo-science.”

She wrinkled her brow for a minute as if confused, “Do you mean neuroscience?”

Megamind blinked, is that how that’s pronounced? That made no logical sense. He nodded anyway, “Yes.”

“So does that mean your robots are named Brain Bots because their processing units mimic the human brain?”

“Close Miss Ritchi,” he admitted, “my cyborgs are called brain bots because they use actual brain tissue.”

Finally, finally, there was a slight crack in her composure, a beat of pure surprise, “Where do you get the brain tissue?”

“Oooh, that’s the right question, I use the brains of dead dogs to construct my bots,” he added in a mad cackle since the audio recorder wouldn’t pick up a crazed grin.

“Do you kill the dogs yourself?”

“Yes, of course, it’s my favorite part,” he lied. He was expecting her to recoil in disgust or horror, but instead she paused, eyes roving over his face and shoulders before the amused smile was once more dancing at the edge of her lips.

“Uh-huh. So you collect them from kill shelters then?”

“What?! How do you-? N-No. No, I killed them, mercilessly and with a smile on my face.”

Her smile grew ever so slightly larger and her eyebrow ticked back up, for a second Megamind thought Roxanne would press the issue, but instead she just tipped her head in a slight nod and let it go.

Oh, he could not wait to wipe that knowing grin off her face.

“Ok. Moving on,” she said airily, she opened her mouth to say something else but he cut her off.

“You’re right Miss Ritchi, I do believe it is time for me to move on,” he purred, standing to his feet at the same time that he pulled the small de-pistol from his sock.

The guards only took a second to register what was happening but it was a second too long as Megamind swiftly vaulted over the table, pulled Roxanne from her chair and pointed the pistol at her head. He grinned at the warden over her shoulder, not bothering to look at any of the tasers now pointed at him and his hostage.

The warden stared back, face like stone. He had to at least suspect that the pistol was just a dehydration gun, but was he willing to risk Miss Ritchi’s life to find out?

He sighed, “Stand down.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me.”

The men all lowered their tasers and Megamind chuckled darkly.

“Smart choice, now if you’ll excuse me, I believe I'd like to go for a little stroll,” he glanced pointedly at the pistol in his hand then at the door, “unlock it then go stand in that corner.”

They did as he said, eyes on his hostage and the gun against her head. He moved the hand that was gripping the shoulder of her shirt to wind it around her waist and pull her closer. She was a more effective human shield that way and it meant he was ready to pick her up if her knees started buckling.

Slowly, keeping her between him and the guards he backed them to the door when he got there he gave her a slight squeeze and said, “Be a dear and open the door for me Miss Ritchi.”

He watched the guards while she reached behind the both of them and found the doorknob, when he heard the door open he wasted no time hauling her through it so that she was the first thing the guards stationed outside saw.

They reached for their tasers but Megamind clicked his tongue and shook his head, “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

They looked at eachother then slowly raised their hands.

“Good, get in there,” Megamind nodded his head at the room they just left, even as he maneuvered Roxanne out of their path. The guards shuffled into the room and Megamind ordered his hostage, “Close the door.”

She did. He pressed the lock override button on the security pad so that the men would be locked in the room until somebody came and got them out.

With the hall now empty of guards he adjusted his grip on her waist so they could walk faster and started rushing her down the corridor.

“Anyways,” Roxanne suddenly said, “as I was saying. Where do you usually get the inspiration for your inventions?”

“What?”

“Your inventions? How do they come to you?”

It was all Megamind could do not to trip over his feet in surprise, “Are you… are you trying to continue the interview?”

“Of course,” slowly, she held up the audio recorder that he hadn’t even seen her grab, “I am a professional after all.”

Megamind couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that escaped his mouth, “And what exactly makes you think I’ll answer your questions in the middle of my daring escape?”

“Well, there’s the fact that you love talking about yourself,” she pointed out, then her thumb pressed the pause button, “but off the record, there’s also the fact that this daring escape of yours is going to completely fall apart if I point out to the guards your pistol is non-lethal.”

He chuckled darkly, or rather he tried to, it came out sounding a bit choked, “And what exactly makes you think my pistol is non-lethal?”

“It’s one of those dehydration guns, isn’t it? That’s the only thing you ever shoot civilians with,” she reasoned, “well, that or the sticky gun-.”

“Decoupage.”

“What?”

“That setting is called decoupage. Sticky? Ugh, it doesn’t match the theme.”

“Right,” she said slowly, “either way, if this thing was a… decoupage gun you would be shooting the guards with it. But you haven’t fired it yet because if you do they’ll realize it’s just the dehydration gun and then you’ll have to shoot your way out.”

“Well, aren’t you the clever reporter,” he purred, “perhaps I should dehydrate you now and find myself a more gullible hostage.”

“Hm, you could do that, but I’m willing to bet you chose me for a reason,” she shrugged, “so, the way I see it you could shoot me, and hope that you just happen to run into another hostage that suits your plan and risk a shoot out where you’re outnumbered a hundred to one. Or!”

She held up the tape recorder and pressed the record button again, then grinned at him over her shoulder.

There was nothing else to do, Megamind laughed, “Oh I like you, you’re fun.”

“So, what would you say inspires most of your inventions?”

“My need to defeat Metro Man, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated, dryly, “so it’s definitely not Saturday morning cartoons, or comic books?”

“What? I-, are you some sort of mind reader?”

“No, I just do my research. Also my niece was utterly thrilled when you made a real life Crab-a-tron. Aquatica is her favorite show.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll admit, some of my ideas do come from fiction,” he paused as they rounded a corner and spotted two more guards, “Don’t move, faces against the wall.”

Megamind glared at them as he and Miss Ritchi passed, then turned so she was still between him and them. After a moment of thought he pulled the pistol away from Roxanne’s temple and shot each of the guards. Two cubes fell to the floor.

Roxanne Ritchi seemed to radiate smugness as she narrated the confrontation for the recorder.

“As I was saying, fiction is a great place to go for inspiration, just ask any Trekkie that went on to be an astronaut, however it is not my only source.”

“Oh?”

“One of my most clever inventions to date, the Mirage of Men-ace, was inspired by a vase I saw in the window of an art gallery,” he slowed as they approached a security door, “Punch in the code 3695.”

“I have an off the record question,” she said as she complied, pausing the tape recorder with the other hand, “the way you mispronounce random words, accent?”

“I learn most words through reading, I simply pronounce them the way that would be most logical.”

“Hm, if only language was logical,” she said, sounding almost sympathetic, then she confessed, “I mispronounced the word ‘subtle’ until my first job out of college.”

“The silent ‘b’?”

“Yep.”

“You think I could make a machine that somehow eradicates silent letters?” he said thoughtfully, “Hm, I should look into that.”

Roxanne snorted, “So you draw inspiration from the world around you. Are there any inventions the public doesn’t get to see?”

He glanced down to make sure the recorder was going again before answering.

“Oh, yes, tons,” Megamind heard the sound of running footsteps and paused, pulling her closer and readjusting the pistol against her head to make the most menacing tableau he could when the four guards burst through the next door. They froze, guns already drawn but eyes on Roxanne.

“Hi,” she called.

He growled, “You know, it might help if you showed a little fear.”

“Sorry, I’m a reporter, not an actor.”

“Humph,” he yelled to the men, “Drop your weapons, face the wall and put your hands either side of your head.”

They hesitated, so Megamind grinned sharply, jerked Roxanne in his arms and tapped his nail against the side of his pistol. One of them, the one who was apparently in charge, growled but dropped his gun and walked to the wall. The others followed suit.

Megamind pushed her forward and shot each of the guards in the back then waited patiently for her to note the parts of the interaction the recorder wouldn’t have picked up.

“Yes, there are tons of inventions the public does not get to see, most of them are just me tinkering, seeing what is and isn’t possible, but some are to make my life easier. Better welding methods, a water heater that you install right on the shower head, that sort of thing.”

“Have you ever thought of patenting these inventions?” she asked, “You could make a fortune.”

Megamind hesitated over this question, the truth was he had patented several inventions under various fake names. And yes, he had in fact made a fortune off of them.

“I’m not in it for the money Miss Ritchi,” he purred, “purely for the love of the evil game, and the hatred of Metro Man.”

She held up the recorder so he could see her press the pause button, “That new artificial heart is your work, isn’t it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said haughtily.

“Uh-huh. The science segment I did before this one was about that thing, there are way too many similarities between it and that pump you tried to flood the city with to be a coincidence.”

“Well, maybe they copied my invention.”

“Yeah, or maybe you use legal inventions to fund your illegal activities.”

“So what if I do?”

Roxanne just shrugged and pressed record, “Is there anything you’re experimenting with now?”

Megamind paused at the final door of this corridor, it led to the main prison and they would have to pass by a bunch of other cells to get to the exit. There was a lot that could go wrong in there.

“Alright my dear nosy reporter, we are about to pass through the main cell block, I need you to be on your best behavior,” he said, “put your hand on the door knob, but wait for my signal to open it. As soon as it’s open we are going to walk as quickly as we can to the other side.”

She shifted in his arms, back growing tense for the first time since Megamind had grabbed her. She put her hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath.

“Ready?”

She nodded.

“Open it.”

She turned the knob and he kicked it to make sure it opened far enough for them to both walk through. Together they hurried down the cell block, even as Megamind took in all of the extra guards in the hall.

It would seem the alarm had been raised about his daring escape.

Megamind pulled her to a stop, if he walked too far into the room he would be completely surrounded. He needed to create a distraction. He looked a few of the extra guards in the eye, then glanced at the nearest cell. It was empty. They must have moved the prisoners, probably so he couldn’t start another prison riot. Damn.

He made eye contact with the nearest guard and smirked.

Before any of the guards could act, Megamind pointed the pistol at the pipe of the sprinkler system and pulled the trigger. A section of pipe was dehydrated, but immediately rehydrated as it fell and water poured over it, so that to the guards it looked like he’d simply shot off a piece of pipe.

Megamind kept shooting so water quickly filled the cell block, coating the floor, then he called to the guards, “Oh dearie me, I seem to have made quite the mess. You can’t shoot me without injuring the lovely Miss Ritchi here, and you can’t tase me without electrocuting everybody on the ground floor. Whatever are you going to do?”

“I might kick your ass if this recording gets ruined,” Roxanne grumbled, trying to shield her recorder from the falling water.

“Hush, act scared.”

“No thanks.”

He couldn’t suppress the noisy sigh that tore from his throat, but did manage to suppress his amused grin when she glanced at him over her shoulder. What could he say, she was interesting. But he shoved his amusement aside and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.

“Move,” he pushed her forward, past the guards. They watched him, hands on their various weapons, glaring and jaws working, but none of them made a move. His bluff had paid off. Water sloshed below their feet, the sound seeming to echo in the tense silence.

He could feel Miss Ritchi’s heartbeat speeding up, but pushed that from his mind as well. He wasn’t expecting to be so physically aware of his hostage, nonetheless he refused to allow himself to be distracted.

Something sloshed behind him.

Megamind turned just in time to see a guard approaching his back with a nightstick raised. Megamind brought Miss Ritchi between them but the large man didn’t even pause, he started to bring the nightstick down, and Megamind was forced to kick him in the stomach in order to keep his hostage from getting hit. There was a sharp wheeze and Megamind kicked the other man in the chin. The man’s head snapped back, throwing his balance back. One more kick to the chest and the guard landed flat on his back, the nightstick clattering noisily beside him. Megamind kicked it into the nearest cell.

He treated the other guards to one more warning glare, then continued on his way. Pulling Miss Ritchi with him.

She was quiet and for a second he thought she might finally appreciate that she was a supervillain’s hostage, but instead she sighed as soon as they were out of the cell block and complained, “Ugh, I really wish they’d allowed me to bring a camera in here. Audio just doesn’t do this whole thing justice.”

“You are the worst hostage I have ever had,” he informed her.

“Really? I thought I’d been doing pretty well,” she began ticking things off on her fingers, “I’m calm, cooperative, haven’t done anything to get us shot, and I’m managing to get through this interview despite the circumstances. What more could you want?”

“How about a scream?”

“I’ll tell you what I told my ex on my birthday,” she looked at him over her shoulder, “if you want me to scream you’re going to have to earn it.”

It took a minute for her meaning to process but when it did he stumbled, for a split second she was the only thing holding him upright. Then he regained his balance and hissed the first thing that came to mind, “Temptress.”

“Oh come on, you’re a supervillain-.”

“Oh good, so you are aware of that fact, I was beginning to wonder.”

“-surely you can handle a dirty joke or two.”

“I will have you know that I am not that kind of villain,” he sniffed, “I may take a woman hostage for a prison break, but there are lines that I will not cross.”

“Hm,” was all she said, then began narrating the short confrontation to the recorder. He was gratified to hear just the barest hint of impressment in her voice when she described his swift take down of the guard.

“Anyways, this is my last question for the science thing, what are you working on right now?”

“The destruction of Metro Man,” he said, automatically.

“Anything else?”

He thought about it, then decided it couldn’t hurt to say, “I’m working on a new AI system to help my Brain Bots keep track of their chores without my input.”

“The cyborg dogs have chores?”

“Well I didn’t make them just so they could eat all my screwdrivers!”

“They eat screwdrivers?”

“They are supposed to-. Oh no you don’t Miss Ritchi, you are not getting any secrets out of me,” he narrowly stopped himself from revealing the Brain Bots were flying recycling centers. If people found out how efficiently his babies processed materials to return them to a state of usefulness they might try to capture them and break them open to figure out how.

“Alright fine,” she sighed gustily, and asked, “any part of that you want stricken from the record?”

He blinked, surprised she was offering, so surprised that he admitted, “Yes, the screwdriver thing, I don’t want people feeding them random garbage and potentially hurting them.”

“You got it,” Roxanne agreed then made a note into the recorder.

They passed a couple more guards, but they didn’t pose any real threat. He took care of them in much the same way he’d taken care of the others.

“So, how long have you been planning this escape?”

“Oh, two years. I built a special gun for it and everything, although the longest delay was luring the guards into a false sense of security, never let it be said that Warden John doesn’t train his people well. It felt like it took forever to get them to relax. I’m very excited I finally got to put this plan into action,” then he frowned, “although, when I pictured this in my head, my hostage had the decency to whimper every now and then.”

“Whimper? Megamind this audio is going on the news, the people don’t need to hear me whimper, they need to hear the truth,” she said, although he didn’t hear anything past his own name.

He hadn’t noticed before, but he liked the way it sounded when she said it. He always liked his name, really, that was why he’d picked it. But it seemed especially fantastic off her lips.

When he didn’t respond other than to direct her through another security door and past the guards on the other side she plowed on, “Do you have a statement about today’s events?”

“A statement? Oh, yes, good idea. Hold on let me think,” he mulled it over for a few minutes, “To the people of Metrocity! Lock your doors and hold your loved ones close for I, Megamind, Incredibly Handsome Master of All Villainy, am once again free. And soon I shall rule our fair city with an iron fist.”

“Ok, got it,” she said, as soon as he had finished his evil laugh.

The guards that were supposed to be at the next door weren’t, and as much as Megamind wanted to believe they’d heard he was coming and ran for their lives, he suspected it actually meant there was another ambush up ahead. Probably right outside the prison if they were smart, close quarters made it easier for him to keep Miss Ritchi between him and the guards.

He mentally assessed the layout right outside the prison and came to the conclusion that a human shield would do him little good. He’d be more likely to escape unscathed if he ditched the reporter and used the pistol to create an opening for himself towards the parking lot.

“Off the record,” he said, then waited until he saw Roxanne press pause on her recorder, “there’s probably going to be a small army waiting for me at the door. I will drop you off in the office behind the check in, the walls are reinforced and should be bulletproof. Wait there until somebody comes to get you.”

She didn’t respond for a long time, “Off the record, try not to die.”

He snorted, “Ah Miss Ritchi, you are as sweet as you are delicate.”

“Is that an insult or a compliment?”

“You’re a clever reporter, figure it out.”

She pressed record again, “So, any hints to your next big scheme?”

He gave her his best sardonic villain laugh, “Ah, ah, ah, that would be telling.”

“Well yeah, kind of my whole job.”

“Hm, but it’s not mine.”

“Fine, the fish guy?”

Megamind tensed, “What about him?”

“Is he a super genius too?”

“Oh,” he hummed in thought, he wasn’t going to answer any questions about Minion, but, “on the record, if any harm comes to Minion I will destroy this planet, perhaps the entire solar system.”

She was silent for a long time, then, “He’s your family?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to strike any mention of him from the story?”

Truthfully he wanted to keep that threat in there, but it would probably do more harm than good. It revealed exactly how much Minion meant to him.

“Yes.”

“Done.”

She made note of the strike, then they were silent for a long time.

“Off the record, he’s a genius in the kitchen,” Megamind said, then immediately wondered why he said that.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

They reached the final door that would lead to the check in and the office where he planned to leave Miss Ritchi. He paused and took a few deep breaths.

“Any final questions?”

“The guy who almost hit me with that stick? Do you know his name?”

“Afraid not, why?”

“I want to interview him and ask why he almost hit me with a stick.”

Megamind laughed and only barely managed to make it sound sinister, “Don’t fear Miss Ritchi, he will surely be fired for that stunt. The warden has a thing about collateral damage.”

“Still. It was a dick move.”

“Come my uncooperative hostage, it’s time for us to part ways. Put your hand on the doorknob and open it on my signal.”

She did as he said and Megamind found himself hoping that the room beyond that door would be full of armed guards. Which was a strange thing to want as it would interfere with his current plan to drop Roxanne off. He would have to keep ahold of her until he was out the prison gates.

“Open.”

She opened it, and the room was not full of armed guards. No, it was so much worse than that.

“Hey,” Metro Man greeted, looking a bit bored.

“Well that’s a bit anticlimactic,” Roxanne mumbled.

“Oh come on,” Megamind groused, “I haven’t even gotten to do anything yet!”

“You took a hostage,” Metro Man pointed out, gesturing at Roxanne.

“Yeah but she barely counts, she didn’t even scream,” Megamind said.

“Hey Megamind, do you want me to strike that statement you gave?” Miss Ritchi interjected.

“Yes,” he sighed miserably, fighting the urge to allow his head to drop as it would mean resting his forehead on her shoulder. It was bad, and baffling, enough that she gave the hand around her waist a sympathetic little pat.

“Done.”

“Alright, come on, let her go. Party’s over.” Metro Man gently pulled Roxanne away, despite the kick Megamind landed against his knee.

“Party hadn’t even begun,” Megamind grumbled, then just to be petty he shot Metro Man in the face with the de-pistol. It didn’t do anything, because of course not, but it did make him feel slightly better.

“Well I had fun,” Miss Ritchi said brightly, “definitely one of the most interesting interviews I’ve ever done.”

“See, she’s not even- ugh.” Megamind groaned as guards came and took his pistol from him, slapping handcuffs on his wrists, which was utterly pointless but yeah, sure, whatever.

“Metro Man, can I get a statement from you about today’s attempted prison break?” Roxanne turned her big blue eyes on Metro Man, who smiled his big stupid thousand watt smile.

“Of course citizen,” he said in his big stupid Metro Man voice.

“Actually, Miss Ritchi, I have one more statement to give,” Megamind decided, and she turned back to him, “This is not the last you will see of me, we will meet again and when we do you won’t be so flippant. No, when next we meet you will learn the meaning of fear!”

She pursed her lips, “So is that an official statement you want broadcasted on the news or…?”

“Oh no my dear Miss Ritchi, that is a promise just for you.”

“Got it. In that case, can you make sure there’s a camera available for our next interview? I have a feeling you are way better at smuggling than I am.”

He glared at her and she stared sunnily back, continuing to deny him so much as a wobbly lip. Usually people smiling in the face of his defeat stung a little, but she had been smiling in the face of his escape so he had a hard time putting any real fire behind his glare. He sighed instead, rolling his eyes and practically dragging his guards out of the room as he stomped back towards his cell.

Behind him Metro Man began making a saccharine speech about always answering the call to protect the citizens of Metro City, even if it interrupted the big game.

Megamind glanced back and caught one more look at Roxanne before the door closed. She appeared rapt with attention, though he couldn’t imagine how such an intelligent woman could be anything but bored by the drivel coming out of Metro Man’s mouth. But then again, the oversized meathead got everything he wanted, deserved or not.

His stomach roiled unpleasantly when he heard Metro Man give one of those loud, all too perfect laughs he used for reporters. He was almost surprised by how disappointed he currently was, although disappointment was to be expected.

Megamind had been setting up this particular prison break for the past two years.

#megamind #roxanne ritchi #megamind x roxanne #Megamind fanfic #Foggy Writes

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silyabeeodess · 1 year

Text

TWST Glorious Masquerade: Weapons in a Fiery Garden

Even if the fiery blossoms couldn’t touch you, even if you were safe, it didn’t keep you from panicking.

Everything was in chaos. The streets once packed with cheerful crowds of festival goers were now filled with those same people running for their lives. Mages of all sorts were swarmed by the parasitic plants and their non-magic wielding friends and family were left to watch on, desperately trying to pull them free. All the while, the flowers themselves consumed everything, climbing over buildings in order to bathe the entire city in an orange glow.

Although Professor Trein had insisted that your group could help protect the townsfolk—or at least lure the flowers away from them—it was easier said than done. Counting him, Grim, and yourself, you were just three people. There was no way you could slow-down the city-wide infestation. Moreover, the teacher’s injuries were getting any better anytime soon.

Well, the odds could’ve been better, but the rest of your schoolmates unanimously choose to leave you behind on their quest to get to the Bell of Salvation! You: The one safe bet in this disaster! And for what? For your own safety?! To look after Trein?! Like you could really do much to defend him in this situation, when the entire town was one big hazard!

“A little help here—!”

Grim weaved between tents, a trail of blossoms chasing after him. So far, just running around and pulling apart fistfuls of flowers was going nowhere fast. They just kept springing up faster than you could manage them.

You looked around frantically, at last spotting something useful. There was garden shop not far from you with a row of old-fashioned tools on display in the front. Among them was a long, wooden scythe.

You quickly darted forward and snatched it. Not to say that you had ever used one before, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Holding it low and adjusting your grip, you scampered after Grim. You cut off the flowers’ path, raised the blade, and—!

Swish!

The air roared as the weapon cut through wind and stem. Petals went flying, still glimmering like flames in their last moments. It wasn’t as sure to stop them as attacking their roots, but it certainty got the job done quick! In one movement, a whole hoard of the blooms could be cut down.

You flinched as a firm grip touched your shoulder. It was Professor Trein. He leaned against you for support, but his eyes burned with determination, “I have an idea! Come with me!”

You followed him as he marched up a tall flight of steps to the festival’s main stage. Raising his pen skyward, he fired a bolt of magic that erupted much like the fireworks everyone had launched earlier that day. As sparks rained back down to the earth, a wave of flowers began to rush toward you. He was calling them!

Your fingers laced tighter around the hilt of the scythe. You were ready for them… Like before, you swung madly through the fiery parade of blooms. Emotions rising, you kept up the assault.

This was stupid!

Swish!

Leaving you behind when you were the only one not affected by the flowers was stupid!

Thwack!

Why did they have to keep pushing you to the side like you couldn’t do anything?! Mage or not, how many times had you already been forced to step in whenever any of your schoolmates landed in trouble? Not having magic didn’t mean you couldn’t fight back at all!

Chop! Slash!

The whole situation was so frustrating, you didn’t know whether you wanted to cry, scream, or both. You were mad that a perfectly good trip to relax and try to find a way home had been ruined. Mad at the flowers for hurting everyone. Mad at Rollo for bringing them back from extinction and sicking them on the city. Mad at your friends for forcing you to stay back when nowhere was safe anyway. And mad at yourself for allowing them to think so little of you in the first place.

Your arms began to burn. Eventually, you got used to using the scythe enough not to overcompensate each swing; however, the prolonged battle gradually drained your stamina just as bad as the flowers themselves might’ve if you did have magic.

There was simply no end to them… Over time, your mind went blank as if you were possessed. Only the need to keep your teacher and friend out of harm’s way kept you going.

Again, Grim screamed your name, “Save your boss!”

These stubborn flowers! I want to, but—! You grit your teeth, giving another swing. Everything hurt, your hands, your hips… How long had it been since you split up with the others? It felt like hours ago…

What if they didn’t make it?

Beside you, Professor Trein nearly collapsed. Grim hoped on top of him, barking at him to do something against the growing hoard. The air was fogged over by crimson pollen, taking flight like billows of smoke and embers. By now, the flowers blanketed everything, twisting your way from every angle. Limbs crying from overexertion, you braced yourself to cut them down once more—!

DONG, DONG, DONG…

You froze. All of you did, even the flowers. The bell…!

Almost instantaneously, the mass of deranged flora began to wither away right before your eyes. Their petals curled and turned brown, their fiery light extinguishing. The clouds of pollen that washed over the city were blown away by a clean breeze. The nightmare ended as abruptly as it had begun.

They did it…

You felt shaky. With a deep, relieved breath, you dropped to your knees. For a moment, it was hard to feel any certain way. You were sore and stiff, adrenaline still coursing through you as if danger might reappear at any second.

Soon enough, your phone buzzed to life—a text from Deuce, asking where you, Grim, and Trein were and confirming most of the other’s safety. You quickly messaged back just as Trein’s own phone blared, with him reporting much the same to whoever was on the other end of the line.

Just as exhausted, Grim rolled away from the professor and fell, stretched out, into your lap. With the threat now passed, his own body seemed to give up on him as well.

This was no place to sleep, but you had to follow his example—using the hilt of the scythe to keep yourself propped up in a sitting position.

….................................................

A surprised shout behind you would pull you out of your doze sometime later. You looked over your shoulder. Azul, Idia, Malleus… everyone had re-grouped and managed to find their way here in one piece. As tired as you were, all of the anger you felt toward them had burnt out. None of them looked much better—Deuce even had a limp—but they were otherwise ok.

Everyone was really ok…

And staring at you, all of them mute and some mildly horrified.

You glanced down at yourself. Idia might’ve been the one wearing a skeletal reaper’s mask, but you were the one who looked like a true incarnation of Death. The dark outfit you’d been given for the masquerade was now tattered and torn. The scythe was still held tight in your hands, leaning against your shoulder. Bright, crimson pollen coated its blade, along with your clothes and face.

Epel asked you hesitantly, “Are you alright…?”

Wiping the sleep from your eyes, it took a moment to reply. “Yeah…” you swallowed dryly, but nodded, “What happened with Rollo? Where is he?”

There was a pause, as if they were unsure whether or not to answer. Then, Silver took the first step toward you, reaching up hesitantly, “First… Give me the scythe. You might hurt yourself.”

“Who’s going to get hurt…?!” Someone whispered, but you weren’t sure which of your schoolmates aid it.

Sebek rushed forward with the other Diasomnia student as you met them at the edge of the stage, almost tearing the weapon from your grasp before you even had the chance to refuse. Left empty-handed, Silver settled instead for helping you off the platform. You felt Grim leap onto your shoulder before your feet left wooden planks to touchdown on cobblestone.

The pair would’ve helped Professor Trein down as well, but the elder soundly waved them away. As much as a hobbled from the platform’s steps, he clearly wanted to maintain some dignity.

“Silver is right,” Sebek hounded, his brows arching intensely, “Unlike us, no one’s trained you to handle a weapon. What were you thinking?!”

For a moment, he examined the blade, then looked back your way.

“All things considered, however, if you ever want to learn how to use a sword—”

Idia stammered, “Should you really be encouraging this?! Who even uses a sword irl?!”

“It’s an integral skill for anyone!”

“For the soldiers of Briar Valley, maybe. Not civilians,” Jamil spoke up next, “But I think that still skips over the main issue...”

Ruggie pulled his arms back behind his head in a long stretch, “Yeah, don’t go and corrupt the only normal person here.” His next words are pointed at you directly, “You heard him talk about his and Silver’s training before, right? Don’t take his offer.”

Sebek continued to argue as you joined at everyone’s side. How they even had the energy to bicker was beyond you, but enough time had passed among them that you couldn’t expect anything less.

Stepping next to you, Malleus cleared his throat, “To answer your original question, Rollo is busy repenting for his actions at the moment. He shouldn’t cause any more trouble.” Giving you a teasing look, he continued, “So, do show a little mercy when you see him. We’ll be keeping the scythe though, in case you’re tempted.”

NOTE: Not my best work, but I wanted to do something with this idea. Would've drawn it, because I think the TWST boys' reactions to best-buddy-comfort-to-all Yuu wielding a scythe would've been great, but got lazy.

#my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #twst #twisted wonderland #idia shroud #ruggie bucchi #jamil viper #malleus draconia #deuce spade #mozus trein #twst grim #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #glorious masquerade #video games #reader #twst yuu #when the quiet kid in class has enough

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plothooksinc · 8 months

Note

For NRFTW prompts; this may or may not be a bit of a stretch since it's outside of the POVs in the original fic, but I'd just love to see what happened when April's parents were at Run of the Mill. I think it would be really funny to see Senior Hueso getting increasingly more exasperated.

Either that, or seeing the dinner that was promised at the end of NRFTW. I do always love me some found family fluff.

Honestly, both would be great, but even seeing just one of those would absolutely make my day.

You're in luck, actually! I chose Hueso, but the prompter after you asked for the dinner |D so I guess I'll write that next!

Fair warning for this: I do not know Spanish. I have thus used it sparingly. If anyone else knows Spanish and I have it wrong, please tell me and I will course correct.

They were closed. They’d been closed for days, but the announcement that the lockdown was officially over had been just a few hours ago, and so perhaps it was lucky that Hueso had decided to check in on his beloved restaurant to see if it had survived the surface invasion intact. He had high hopes, given its highly secretive entrance to the mundane world, but he also needed to take inventory of his kitchen because the lockdown had been unexpected, to say the least, and some of his more delicate ingredients would not have survived a four day absence of care.

Perhaps it was also lucky that Hop had come with him, lured by the promise of double pay, to help him clean out the pantry and set any issues to rights. Because when the yokai popped into existence in the middle of his dining room—complete with two shell-shocked, dark-skinned humans—Hueso himself was not at ground zero. And he was not their first impression. And a fluffy, wide-eyed black and white rabbit yokai was perhaps less terrifying to two panicked humans than a skeleton in a fedora. Hueso was not convinced that, had he been the first point of contact, the woman would not have tried to run him through with her knife.

For all the good it would do her. But… details.

Instead, he bolted out of the kitchen to the sound of multiple screams, stopping short at the counter to see Hop on the floor with both arms over his head, his feet thumping a pattern on the ground—and a woman breathing hard in a pair of blue jeans and an orange shirt and dark, wild curly hair that reminded him of someone else. He couldn’t work out if the man holding onto her shoulders was cowering or merely holding her back, they both seemed so terrified, but at least the knife in the woman’s hands wasn’t actually in use. Held in a death grip, maybe, but—

Mayhem, he did recognise. Because the traitorous little yokai hopped from the woman’s shoulder onto his counter, stared at him pointedly, and then vanished.

Which drew all attention in the room his way.

And if the screaming had been loud before…

For a moment, he considered turning on his heel and walking back into the kitchen, locking the door behind him. It was so tempting. But he had a duty of care to Hop, and he should probably… do something about the humans in his Yokai Only (With One Exception) establishment.

“I’ll thank you to stop yelling,” he said irritably. “Nobody is going to hurt you. You will perhaps tell me why you are here, yes?”

The knife swung in his direction, the woman’s expression fierce, and Hop took the opportunity to scoot away from the couple, jamming himself into the corner instead. Hueso sighed. “No trust. Senora, this is a pizzeria, not a death trap. That’s next door. If you put the knife down and take a seat, I will fetch you some soothing tea and you can explain to me why you have appeared without warning when we are closed.”

The woman blinked at him, and then her gaze travelled across the menu boards behind him, and her eyes widened. Thankfully, she finally lowered the knife.

“…Run of the Mill?” she said, sounding dazed. “I know this place.”

He stiffened. “How so?”

“My daughter... orders from here?”

Ah. That would be why she looked so familiar to him, then. Hueso adjusted his fedora and graciously kept his sigh to himself. “Your daughter has good taste. In pizza, if not in company.” That was mostly a lie; the boys weren’t that bad, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “However, she is not here today, and so my question still stands. Why did Mayhem bring you to my closed establishment?”

“Oh, good,” the man at her back murmured, and he smiled in a way that suggested he was not, in fact, happy at all. “April and Mayhem have both been here before. Isn’t that great, honey? Hmm?”

“Wait, that’s not important,” said the woman—Mrs O’Neil, he would assume until told otherwise. To his great annoyance, she swung the knife up again. “You have to send us back. We left her there, you took us away—“

“I took you nowhere,” Hueso snapped, both from impatience and the realisation that something untoward had possibly happened. He just wanted to check on his restaurant, but apparently that was not in the cards today. “If you listened, I said the furry creature with you—“

“Mayhem,” Mr O’Neil muttered. “I think that’s right. The… nice skeleton man is just as surprised as we are.”

His fingers squeezed into her shoulders, and she lowered the knife again. Hueso raised an eyebrow at her, wondering if she’d just threaten him again in a moment—she seemed the type. But Mrs O’Neil looked tired, and had begun to shake. Definitely something terrible had happened. Besides their sudden appearance here.

Now, he did sigh.

“Hop, go home,” he said wearily. “I will pay you until the end of the evening as promised. The two of you, please. Sit down.”

---------

Hop was a good kitchen hand but otherwise terribly anxious and hadn’t needed to be told twice to leave; by the time Hueso came back from the kitchen with tea, he was gone. Hueso eyed the corner where he’d squished himself in case the woman had somehow gone crazy in his absence, but there was no sign of violence and the couple was now sitting at the corner booth, though they both seemed as rigid as corpses. It was as if they were expecting the booth to come alive and eat them whole. (He… would refrain about joking about that sort of thing. They might actually believe him. And one day, it might not actually be a joke, given some of his clientele.)

The knife sat on the table with the blade facing away from the edge. It was as close to a truce as he suspected they could manage, and he placed the tray on the table, amused as they stared at it suspiciously.

“You will be reassured to note my tea is a mundane herb for soothing the nerves and likely something you are familiar with,” he said blandly. “Just as I’m sure you are already familiar with pizza. This is a normal restaurant, for all intents and purposes.”

They didn’t need to know about the delicate ingredients. Not unless he decided he didn’t like them. The jury was still out; for one thing, the knife. The yelling. His restaurant being closed. But on the other side of the equation, they were related to April, who had thus far been a surprisingly tolerable human guest.

They were also traumatized, and once he listened to their slightly incoherent attempts to tell him what had happened—tripping over each other in their haste to talk about alien zombie creatures—he realised Mayhem had brought them here to save their lives. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Surely, there were other places Mayhem would consider safer than a yokai restaurant.

Well. Small mercy that at least the dining room had not been open at the time.

Mrs O’Neil took a sniff of her tea with a cautious face, and then pulled back in surprise. “Chamomile?”

“And a touch of honey.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t have thought—“

“I can assure you, Senora, that many yokai tastes run quite similarly to those of humans. Like pizza, for example. Consider that you are sitting in a pizzeria.”

The look she gave him was actually irritated. “I was going to say it’s weird to find chamomile in a pizzeria.”

“…ah.” Well. Perhaps, when she wasn’t panicking, she was a reasonable woman. He tipped his hat. “My apologies. It is actually a blend for my own personal use.”

“Why are you Spanish?” Mr O’Neil asked abruptly, and Hueso stared.

“…I beg your pardon?”

“Hon,” his wife said tiredly, “You can’t just go around asking random skeletons why they’re Spanish—“

“It’s a valid question,” he insisted, but his expression was sheepish. “You said yokai. Yokai are Japanese in origin.”

“In origin,” Hueso repeated back pointedly. “A very, very long time ago. It is an adopted term for many of us. Your daughter has been consorting with yokai for more than a year now; I am surprised to find the two of you so ignorant.”

“…she what.”

…ah.

Well, if April was going to send her parents to him, what was he meant to assume? Hueso rubbed his fingers against his skull, trying not to hold it against them when they flinched at the click of his knuckles.

“Let’s start over.”

--------

Their first cup of tea settled their nerves enough that they thanked him politely for his hospitality, though Hueso noted tiredly their gratitude came with shell-shocked expressions, and he wondered how much of this they would retain later. The woman asked him if April had friends here—while her husband tried for the fourth time to call his daughter—and Hueso gave a faint shrug. He may have only a slight regret about accidentally throwing April under the bus, but Frankie’s daughter and the turtle boys were another story. Now that he knew how little they knew, it was time to keep his distance: he left them to continue their phone calls and vanished into the kitchen.

He was just putting a pizza into the oven when his kitchen door slammed open, and Hueso ground his teeth at the sight of Mrs O’Neil bursting into his kitchen looking upset all over again.

“Senora—“

“You don’t have a front door,” she said shrilly. “Why don’t you have a front door?”

Ah. They’d tried to leave. He could understand this particular panic, and he straightened. “Senora, this is a non-human establishment. As such, there is no door that any casual tourist can just walk through. Imagine the upset.” He raised an eyebrow. “Imagine if they all had knives.”

“They wouldn’t be carrying knives!”

“That is… reassuring?”

Her mouth opened and closed, and then she ran a hand down her face, face suddenly so tired. “Guns. They’d be carrying guns.”

“Less reassuring. Also an odd tangent.” He blinked. “This may be a strange question given the circumstances, but are you—“

“I’m fine,” she muttered. “I was trying to protest and then I realised you had a point.”

“Gracias.”

“No, but—sorry for bursting into your kitchen—“

“And again.”

“—but we really need to leave.” Her hands twisted into her shirt. “April isn’t answering her phone and we’ve tried, we’ve tried a lot, we’ve left messages, and we left her there and there are zombies, can you please let us out? There’s another way to leave, right?”

There was, of course. There were three ways out, and he wasn’t particularly inclined to show her any of them for a variety of reasons. First and foremost was the safety and privacy of his family and his livelihood. The O’Neils seemed like decent people, but they were still human and he’d only just met them. Giving them the mystical keys to get in and out of his restaurant—or allowing them to see where it was in New York—was not something he was willing to commit to just yet.

Another reason, of course, was plain common sense.

“Senora, the little furry yokai brought you here for a reason,” he said gently. “Did April ask him to bring you?”

“Yes,” she said heavily. “But—“

“Then you didn’t leave her there. She made you go. And most likely for the reason that she can hold her own far better when she does not have to worry about you as well.” He’d never seen April fight, but he knew the company she kept. It stood to reason. “Though I am curious as to why she sent you to my restaurant.”

“She told Mayhem to take us somewhere safe.”

“Ah.” Then this was a choice of Mayhem’s. The next time the little yokai came in, they were going to have words. Or at least… pointed stares. “You seem to be quite familiar with Mayhem, at least.”

“We knew he wasn’t, uh, quite a cat or a dog. And there are mutants out there,” she said awkwardly. “I figured he was a mutant animal of some kind, but… yokai, huh?”

He relaxed a little, leaning back against the counter. “You do not have a problem with mutants?”

“Well, I don’t know any, except for—well, no.” She folded her arms. “If Mayhem’s a yokai, then I’ve never met one. But they’re just people, right?”

A good attitude to have. He raised an eyebrow. “As are yokai. But you drew a knife on my kitchen hand.”

She had the grace to look sheepish—for all of half a second before she straightened against the door, ticking off points on her fingers, voice incredibly polite. “First, I already had the knife out because I was under attack by zombies. Second, I’ve never teleported in my life, and switching out a zombie for a sudden furry rabbit guy didn’t do wonders for my anxiety. I didn’t stab him. I would have stabbed a zombie.”

“I am glad you are such a discerning knife wielder,” he said dryly, and was rewarded with the small upward tick of her mouth. Ah. He was beginning to like her.

“I’m sorry I frightened him, though.”

“I will pass on your apology.” He tapped his finger on the edge of the oven. “Senora, I know you wish to leave, and I do not wish to spite you. But I feel it is best that you stay here for the moment. Your daughter…” He hesitated, but he’d already thrown April under the bus once, and he doubted very much her parents would still remain ignorant after this evening regardless. “I imagine she already has much experience in dealing with such issues. One assumes she knows where you are and will come to collect you.”

She was quiet a long moment, dark eyes sizing him up, and the faint smile faded. “And if I insist?”

“Then I would think you are remarkably foolish.”

“But would you keep us here?”

He sighed, throwing a hand in the air with some impatience. “I am not a jailer. I will find some way of returning you home.” He just—didn’t really want to. But Hueso wasn’t about to take a pair of humans prisoner, either. “Consider this also, however: by the time you return home, it will be too late regardless. Your apartment is some distance from here.”

She blinked. “You know where we live?”

“Your daughter orders from us,” he reminded her.

“…are your delivery boys also yokai?”

“Girls, actually. And yes.” Cloaked for the outside world, but nevertheless.

“…huh.”

It was a thoughtful huh, and she sagged against the wall, running a hand through her hair. It made the curls stand up at awkward, frizzed angles, and he suspected his heated kitchen was doing her no favours. “What do you suggest?”

He gestured toward the oven. “Sit and recover yourselves. Have a meal. It’s likely either Mayhem or your daughter will come looking for you. Honour April’s attempt to keep you safe and stay safe. If she still cannot be reached—“

Mrs O’Neil straightened suddenly, cutting him off. “Do you know who Donnie is?”

That…was unexpected.

He stared at her, mouth open for a moment, before he clicked his jaw shut. “Out of curiosity, why do you ask?”

“Before we left,” she said steadily. “She was yelling at him over her—uh, watch. I think she was asking for help. We can’t reach her on the phone, so—“

Ah. This he could work with, and he wished it had come up sooner. But he could hardly blame them for the stresses of the evening. Perhaps he could help more directly after all.

“Donnie is a customer of mine,” he said. “Go back to your seat, Senora. I do not have his number, but I do have his brother’s. I will try and reach him for you.”

---------

Leonardo was not picking up his phone.

This was somewhat surprising, as Hueso had a long history of having to grit his teeth when calling the boy, because his reaction was always, always over-enthusiastic and immediate and what’s up, Bone Man? and I knew I was your favourite and sometimes he wished that he had Raphael’s number instead, but Leo had insisted they were ‘mejor amigos’ (and Hueso regretted answering his questions on various Spanish words) and he was the one who forced his phone into Hueso’s face first.

He left a message. It was simple. The situation was too complex for more.

Pepino. Call me. Immediately.

Surprising, but when he thought about it, if the boys were at April’s apartment dealing with an apparent zombie situation (zombies? Really? Not that he doubted the O’Neils, but zombies?) they were perhaps too busy for phone calls. He fetched the pizza from the oven and carved it up into slices. Only Mrs O’Neil was at the booth, looking even more frazzled and now exhausted, but she looked up as he slid the pizza onto the table on its wooden platter.

Then she peered at the pizza with the sudden interest of a woman who has just remembered she is starving, and she reached forward for a slice immediately. “Wait, is this—“

“Spicy chicken. Extra sauce.”

“How did you know?”

“We have had this conversation three times now,” he said with amusement, and she huffed a small laugh. “Again—“

“My daughter orders from you, yeah, I got it.”

“And I know what her favourite is when she eats here. I had to assume this one was either your favourite or your husband’s.” He paused. “Where is he, by the way?”

“Oh… he went to find your restroom.” She took a bite and leaned back, pointing across the room, speaking with her mouth full. “An’ got distracted on t’way back.”

That could be alarming. His restroom was perfectly average, but the hallway down to it was lined with multiple artworks and posters and news articles that were largely from the Hidden City. Including a picture of April with Sunita and Frankie, which he hoped very much that the man did not see. He was fresh out of explanations he desired to give.

Fortunately, it seemed Mr O’Neil had been distracted by something much more mundane, if more important to Hueso than the contents of the hallway combined. He was stooped by the model ship on its stand, eyeing it with obvious delight, and Hueso decided that perhaps both of April’s parents were not, in fact, bad people.

“I have left a message,” he told Mrs O’Neil. “Donnie is… very much a foolish teenager, but he and his brothers are more than adequate to help your daughter deal with any trouble. It won’t be long.” (He wasn’t used to calling the boy Donnie, but it was wise not to give her even more information. Hueso was a restaurant owner big on confidentiality and wished to stay in his lane. April could deal with that tangle.)

She swallowed before answering this time. “Thank you. Uh…”

And she glanced back at the signs on the counter as if looking for inspiration, and that’s when he realised he hadn’t introduced himself.

“You can call me Senor Hueso.”

She mouthed something for a brief moment—he suspected it was bone from the confused look on her face—and then she smiled tiredly.

“Carol O’Neil. My husband’s name is August.”

“A pleasure.”

Well. That was stretching it. But they could certainly be worse company.

---------

Leonardo still wasn’t answering his phone.

---------

“You speak Spanish?”

“Si, Senor. August too, but not as fluently.”

“He is still looking at my ship.”

“He loves boats. Or ships. Whichever. He has a collection at home.”

“Ah. Is he a sailor?”

“Not since he was a teenager. You?”

“For a while. Then I decided to turn my gaze towards more…. legitimate business.”

“Oh. What, were you a, uh. Smuggler?”

“Not quite.”

“…you weren’t a, um…”

“Pirate? Yes.”

“Oh! I was thinking something more… skeletal.”

“…Senora. I assure you that I am not now, nor have I ever been… Santa Muerte. A ‘Grim Reaper’.”

“I guess that was a stupid question.”

“A little, yes.”

“…”

“…wait. Piracy?”

“Of course. I obtain media illegally all the time.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. Really?”

“No.”

---------

It had been hours. Now he was worried.

He would deny it for the rest of his bony life, of course.

---------

The O’Neils had passed from shock to exhausted complacency back to a growing urgency the more time passed, and Hueso found himself wishing Leonardo did not know portal magic, because then he would perhaps have an address for delivery that he could pay a visit to. April was not answering her phone. Leonardo was not answering his. Mayhem had failed to reappear. Something had clearly gone amiss and, aside from the humans growing more agitated in his dining room, Hueso’s mind was filling with terrible images of dead teenagers. Or zombie teenagers, or—

They were good customers. They paid well. That was his only concern.

(He was lying to himself.)

The chamomile tea had been swapped out for spirits; just enough to settle nerves, because he wasn’t about to have two agitated and drunk humans on his premises. As it was, they were both back at the table, Carol tapping an uneven rhythm on the table with her fingers and beginning to stare off into the middle distance, and August kept glancing between Hueso and the walls of his establishment. Perhaps he was wondering whether there was a secret door he could find if he looked hard enough. Unless he suddenly developed mystic vision, unlikely.

Their growing fear was perfectly understandable. He felt a little like he was harmonizing with them. Hueso leaned against his counter, tapping at his phone, and sighed.

“Ten minutes,” he said quietly. “I will call again. If I hear nothing…”

…if he heard nothing, he did not know what to do. Did he just blindfold them until he could turn them out onto the street, let them go scurrying back home to a potentially tragic scene? He pondered visiting the apartment himself, but there was precious little point to it; not this late in the game. He’d left his swashbuckling days well behind him in any case.

“Ten minutes and we leave,” Carol said flatly, knuckles whitening as she curled her hands on the table. “One way or another.”

Hueso gritted his teeth for a moment, fighting back a withering response. She was within her rights, and he had already said he would not be a jailer. There was very little else he could do about the situation, and it frustrated him.

Leonardo needed to call back right now and make a terrible joke at him, so he could yell at him for his terrible sense of humour and his terrible Spanish and for worrying April’s parents, and then he could wash his hands of the whole thing and go home to sleep in relief. (He thought perhaps that if they called back now he might even make them pizza on the house.)

“Ten minutes,” he said, voice quiet. “And then I will escort you off the premises and wish you the best. But give me ten minutes.”

Carol sagged against the table and gave him a watery smile.

---------

Ten minutes later the youngest turtle answered the phone, sounding breathless and cautious, and Senor Hueso thanked every god who might be listening, leaned against the counter, and tried not to panic that it was the wrong turtle.

“Michelangelo. Where is Pepino?” He saw the O’Neils straighten out of the corner of his eye, turning toward him with hopeful faces.

“Yeah, sorry, Senor Hueso! He’s not allowed to have his phone right now, kind of doctor’s orders.”

“He is concussed?” His alarm rose. “Did the zombies hurt him?”

“Zom--? Oh! No! No, he wasn’t there for that, this was, uh, earlier.” Mikey was quiet for a moment, then spoke even more brightly, but Hueso could hear the strain underlying it. “He’s okay, promise! Just gotta rest up, that’s all. Do you want me to take a message for you?”

Earlier probably meant during the invasion itself, and many people were hurt in the upper city—he wondered now if he should have perhaps reached out to Leonardo and his family to offer them sanctuary on the other side of the lockdown. There was nothing he could do about it now, so he moved on, trying to keep his voice level. “No. If he is hurt, leave him be. Please tell me you know where April O’Neil is.”

“…yeees?” He sounded confused. “Why would you—OMIGOSH.” Hueso jerked the phone away from his ear. “And you know about the zombies. Are the O’Neils with you?”

“They are here, yes,” he snapped. “And they are very stressed and eating me out of house and home.”

He heard August protest softly from across the room. “Hey, now—“

“Oh, don’t be like that, you big softy.” The strain was gone from Mikey’s voice. Now he just sounded utterly relieved. “No way you didn’t just feed them yourself out of the goodness of your bones. But that’s great! We didn’t know where Mayhem had taken them, April’s been really worried.”

“She is safe?”

“Safe and sound.”

He glanced over to the O’Neils and gave them a slight nod, and then turned away again as Carol gave a small, aborted sob. “Then if you please, Michelangelo, put her on the line? I will hand the phone over to Mr O’Neil.”

“You got it, BM.”

August was already standing, a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Hueso handed him the phone.

Then he vanished back into his kitchen, shutting the door behind him and eyeing the oven and what ingredients he had. Pizza; nothing fancy given they were closed, but if he wasn’t mistaken, he was about to have more guests. And baking them would give him something to do far, far away from the two humans currently having a breakdown in his front room.

Soon, they would all be gone and he could go home and things would return back to some version of normal.

(The only thing he was relieved about, of course.)

---------

April arrived via ostentatious pink portal, bruised and scuffed and accompanied by the Hidden City’s Most Wanted and promptly threw herself into her parents’ arms, both of whom seemed far too overjoyed to see her to remark on the way she arrived and the company she was keeping.

Hueso stared at Draxum.

Draxum stared back, arms folded.

Hueso dumped a stack of pizza boxes on the counter and sidled off to his hallway while the joyous reunion was happening (“Baby, your face!”), and carefully yanked a Wanted poster off the wall, crumpling it in one hand.

There was quiet for a moment. And then he heard Carol, voice heavy with disbelief.

“Barry?”

“Hello, Carol.” Draxum was extremely casual, examining his knuckles.

“But you—but he--you used a—you’re our neighbour!”

Dios mio. Hueso would pretend he never heard that. Instead, he strolled back up, rumpled paper carefully shoved into a pocket. “Carol, please do not tell me you somehow thought he was human.”

“I could pass for human,” Draxum grumbled.

“Ah, yes, because human legs all bend the wrong way like that.”

“Yeah, okay, enough,” April interrupted, voice small, still latched onto her father as Carol examined her bandaged nose. “Mom, uh, I’m guessing we really need to talk, so—“

“You do, and I would like to sleep,” Hueso said, shoving his stack of carefully prepared pizzas into Draxum’s empty arms. To his credit, the caprid yokai merely took them with a long-suffering look and then promptly used them to hide his face. “And I am so done with revelations tonight. Please have any further life-changing conversations somewhere that is not my restaurant. We are, after all, closed.”

April grinned tiredly at him. “Sorry. But thanks, Senor Hueso. I appreciate it, I know it was…a lot.”

Ah. Well. He softened, just a little. “You are welcome. Just do not make a habit of either visiting after hours or zombie attacks.”

“Thaaat, I think we can do.”

“So you say,” Draxum muttered dryly, and then glared as April kicked him in the shin.

“None of that, Barry. C’mon, Portal Express. Can you take us to, uh, Central Park?”

“If I must.”

“Wait,” August interrupted, eyeing the portal that was still open with no small amount of nerves. “Do we have to go through that?”

Whatever the answer was, Hueso didn’t care to hear it. He swept into the kitchen and snapped the door shut behind him decisively, wiping down the counters. He didn’t care if Draxum bodily dragged them through the portal at this point; he just wanted to return to the quiet evening he had been looking forward to before all this.

That being said, he would admit to himself he was glad that everyone had turned out to be okay. Well. Minus Leonardo, who was apparently hurt badly enough that he wasn’t allowed to have his phone this many days after the invasion. But Michelangelo said he would be fine—

He paused in his cleaning to dash a quick text off to the boy, and then finished closing down his kitchen in peace.

---------

BoneMan: Pepino. When you are entirely done lazing around, please call. You still owe me a shift for the restaurant damage, you can’t get out of it that easily.

He might care a little.

---------

(He returned to the dining room later to wipe down the table and found a folded serviette with words scrawled on it in what looked like lipstick, and he flipped it over to read.

Thank you for everything. We’ll tell no one.

- Carol

Well.

They seemed like decent people. Perhaps he would see them again.)

#rottmnt #rottmnt fic #no rest for the weary #nekotsuki #prompt #warning this is LONG #can I write a short prompt? probably not #OH WELL #Hueso is trying very hard to Not Care #he may be failing a little #also he doesn't get paid enough for this honestly

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