#Mint's fanfiction

[minty-mumbles]

An Important Message

Summary: Link runs into a group of warriors who are searching for the Hero of Hyrule and decides he doesn't want to deal with that. He sends them to talk to Zelda, along with a letter containing an "important message" for the queen

A/N: First fic in more than half a year! I hope you guys like it!

(Read on AO3)

~~~

Time sheathed his sword as he looked around the battlefield. Piles of bokoblin flesh- the only things left of the monsters they had been fighting- steamed as they slowly dissipated into black fog. Evidently, he’d been the last to finish his fight. The others had already regrouped. He walked towards the other heroes who were clustered to one side of the smoking battlefield. 

The group looked scuffed up, but no one seemed to be hurt. Four stood to the side, scowling as he fiddled with a torn and bloodied part of his tunic sleeve, but no one else seemed concerned and Four didn’t seem like he was in pain, so Time assumed he'd already been taken care of.

Half the group talked among themselves, while the other half were openly staring at a stranger. Time had noticed that they’d had a helper during their fight, but hadn’t thought much of it. At the time, he’d been more worried about the lizalfos trying to cut his head off than a strange figure on the battlefield.

At the moment, though, the man was crouched across the battlefield, hunched over a smoking pile of bokoblin guts. Time blinked. Was the man collecting the organs left behind? 

Time didn’t feel nauseous at the sight of a man with his hands buried in a pile of fresh monster entrails. He’d seen too much in his life to ever be nauseous at something like that, but he did have to restrain himself from pulling a face at the sight of the person picking up a bokoblin’s stomach. 

“Oh, gross,” he heard someone mutter from behind him but didn’t turn to see who had said it. (He didn’t necessarily disagree with their assessment of the situation.) Instead, he walked over towards the man. The stranger looked up as Time approached, but didn’t bother to stand to greet him. 

The man was wearing tight gray and navy blue leather armor, clearly Sheikah in design. His long pale blonde hair was swept up in a neat bun at the nape of his neck. A navy scarf was pulled up over the lower half of his face, covering his mouth and his nose. His eyes remained unobscured, glinting as he stared up at Time from where he was crouched. 

The stranger’s eyes were unsettling. They were a blue so pale that Time had the absurd thought that the stranger must be blind. But no, Time’s gaze was met without falter, and the stranger had aimed his bow with no hesitancy during the fight. He wasn’t blind, but his eyes unsettled Time slightly. With his pale blonde hair and pale blue eyes, it looked like all the color had been drained out of the stranger.

Time stopped a few feet away, not wanting to get so close he would tower over the stranger, who was still crouched on the ground. Time placed a hand to his chest, inclining his head. “Thank you, stranger. We appreciate your help with the fight. It’s not often we find someone who can hold their own as well as you.”

It was true. Most of the heroes were used to civilians who were, for the most part, unfamiliar with a sword. Only in Warriors’ Hyrule could they count on outside support and even then it was only from trained soldiers, not random people who stumbled across their battles.  

The stranger’s scarf covered their mouth, so TIme could not see the expression they were pulling, but by the furrowing of his brow, Time could tell they were frowning. 

There was a moment of awkward silence as if the stranger was carefully considering his words. “I could say the same thing.” Their voice was soft and raspy, and Time had to strain to hear it. “What is such a large group of warriors doing in these lands? What is your purpose here?”

The group of heroes was used to scrutiny of this type. They truly were a strange bunch, and they drew curiosity and suspicion no matter where they went. None of the heroes were naturally skilled with words or lies, but the constant scrutiny caused them to become practiced and confident in their excuses as to why such a ragtag group was traveling together. 

However, Time got the sense that their lies wouldn't work here. He recognized the stranger's armor and pale coloration. If he wasn’t a member of the Sheikah tribe, he was at least a descendant. The Sheikah were suspicious people, and well trained in lies and subterfuge. If Time lied, the stranger would be able to tell, and would be very unlikely to help them. 

So, he spoke the truth. “We’re traveling to the castle. We come from a land far away to seek an audience with the Queen.”

The stranger’s frown turned into a suspicious glare. “You want to visit the queen.” The statement was flat and unamused. The stranger’s emotions were hidden by both his flat voice and the scarf that covered the lower half of his face, but Time could tell he seemed deeply unimpressed. “For what purpose do you want to speak with her?”

“Our business is our own, stranger,“ Time replied, not unkindly, but with a certain firmness to his tone that said he would not be explaining.

“I work under her direction. If you mean harm to her…” 

Ah. Time quickly realized his misstep. It wasn’t the same in every era, but it wasn't uncommon for the Sheikah tribe to serve the monarchy. A group of well-armed foreigners who were vague about their intentions with the man’s master would no doubt be unwelcome. He knew he couldn’t have lied to the stranger about why they needed to speak to the ruler of this era, but Time could have offered up a half-truth. It might have appeased the stranger and made him more willing to offer directions. 

“No, nothing like that! We seek the hero of this land, and thought speaking to the Queen might be the best place to start.“

“And for what purpose do you seek him?” The voice changed for the first time, gaining a hint of disdain. That was curious. Had the hero done something that the people of this era found distasteful? Did this man know the hero personally, and dislike him? Time tucked that thought away, knowing that asking would make the man close off even further.

There was a pause before Time spoke as he once again decided to tell as much of the truth as he could. “We can not tell anyone but the Queen.”

The stranger shifted, then stood. Even standing, he barely came level with Time’s shoulder. He looked like he was deeply considering leaving this conversation and not bothering with Time or any of the other heroes anymore. “But it’s an urgent matter?”

“Of the utmost importance.”

~~~

Link was utterly sick of this shit. 

‘Utmost importance,’ his ass. Everyone thought their news was of the ‘utmost’ importance. Then again, Link thought as he took another look at the ragtag group in front of him and actually paid attention to the details of their appearance this time, perhaps these people were telling the truth about carrying important news. 

Link didn’t doubt the man’s claims that they weren’t from Hyrule. The man spoke with a strange accent, and their clothes were foreign. Link had never seen fashion like that, and he’d traveled all over Hyrule. 

Even their weapons were strange; they carried an odd collection of swords that didn’t look like either heirlooms from the golden age of before the Calamity or the swords forged by the Zora or Goron smiths. The one wearing a white cape had even fought with a whip during the battle, which wasn’t a technique Link had ever seen displayed in any of the settlements. Whips were only ever used for animals, never as weapons. 

So yes, they were very strange indeed. 

(It did make him wonder how they had managed to enter Hyrule. Every time Link tried to leave, he would find his path blocked by some sort of obstacle so the fact that people had managed to find their way in was interesting- but that was a thought for another time.)

The fact that they were foreigners narrowed down what kind of news they could be carrying significantly. They could be mercenaries sent to assassinate the newly returned Queen or declare war on behalf of a far-off kingdom. That was unlikely- if they were here to fight, they would not have brought children, even if those children seemed skilled in the sword. 

They could be here to ask for aid in a disaster that plagued their kingdom. This was more likely, but still not probable- no country would think to requisition aid from Hyrule unless they were truly desperate. 

The last option- both the one that seemed most likely given Link’s luck and the one he dreaded the most- was that this was the beginning of yet another divinely ordained quest.

Link sighed, somehow both disinterested and panicked at the same time. He didn’t want to get mixed up in another quest. “I literally just got done cleaning the last mess.” He grumbled to himself, quiet enough that the man shouldn’t be able to hear him. Couldn’t the goddess leave him alone for a few months? Was that too much to ask?

“What was that?” Oh, right. The strangers were still waiting for his response. What had they wanted in the first place? 

“Nothing. I can direct you to the palace, but if it’s truly the hero you seek, I can go retrieve him. I know his usual haunts.” Link would not be retrieving the hero from anywhere. A plan was already forming for him to escape to a place where none of these men could follow him. It had been a while since he last visited Gerudo Town, after all. He owed Riju a visit. 

The group’s leader straightened, looking pleased, as if he’d finally gotten a good break after days of bad luck. “We would appreciate-”

Link didn’t want to hear any more formal speech, and interrupted. “But I was traveling to Castle Town in order to deliver a message to the Queen. If I go to retrieve the hero, I’ll need you to deliver it for me.” 

“It would be no trouble, sir.”

Great. Link let his face split into a vicious grin, knowing his mask covered exactly how sarcastic his expression was. “Let me just write it down.” 

~~~

This wasn’t what Zelda had been expecting to do during her scheduled lunch break, but she couldn’t say she was surprised. Repairing the castle and working on reinstating Hyrule to its former glory was never going to be an easy task, and new things for her to deal with popped up nearly hourly. 

Being hustled away from inspecting the work being done on the outer town wall to be informed that there was a large group of armed messengers asking to speak to her was a new one, though.

She’d thanked the messenger for telling her and sent him off to escort the group to a waiting room- preferably one of the ones that was already cleaned up. Then, he was to summon Hoz and another member of the guard and send them to the throne room to wait for her. 

She herself picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she could from the outer town wall to the small house she’d been staying in while the bedrooms in the castle were still in a state of disarray. She didn’t have any fancy dresses or many expensive jewels, but anything would be better than the hard-worn and dusty dress she’d been wearing today. She didn’t know who had requested to see her, but she knew it wasn't a planned delegation from any of the settlements. If it had been an unplanned group sent from Hateno or Lurelin, she would have been informed of that by the messenger. 

It seemed impossible, but a strange delegation no one recognized led her to only one conclusion. A delegation from one of the surrounding countries had arrived. If it were true, Zelda needed to make her best impression. She needed to put on a good show. 

Not a show of strength, no. The royal guard currently consisted of nine people, half of whom worked only part-time at the moment. A show of strength was impossible. The best she could do was present a calm, united front. She had to show that, despite being only a teenager, she was competent enough to rule this nation.

It would be catastrophic if any of the surrounding countries got the idea that Hyrule would be easy to conquer now that there wasn’t a demon pig rampaging through the palace. 

They wouldn’t be wrong for that impression. Hyrule would need decades before it was anywhere close to the militaristic force it had once been. Zelda had been hoping the mountains, oceans, and desert surrounding Hyrule that formed natural boundaries would keep other countries from sending ambassadors so soon, but it appeared she was out of time. 

She needed to appear competent, and meeting the group dressed in dusty work clothes and tangled hair was not the way to do that. She changed as quickly as she could, choosing the most presentable of her outfits. She chose a sapphire tiara from her small collection of jewelry- most of which had been gifted to her by Link- and held it in her mouth as she ran from her tent towards the throne room, simultaneously trying her best to comb her hair into a more presentable look. She didn’t have the time to put it into a style, so simply brushing it out would have to do. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the voice of one of her childhood nannies echoed, telling her that “princesses do not run willy-nilly through the castle.” Zelda told the voice to shut up. Princesses might not run through the castle, but a queen certainly would if it was needed to make a good impression, and Zelda was a queen.

She circled around to the back of the throne room, entering through one of the doors behind the throne. Thankfully, Hoz and the other guard- a middle-aged woman named Mima- were already waiting for her next to the throne. She slowed to a stop in front of them. 

The two guards looked slightly bemused but didn’t comment on her odd behavior. They had no doubt been apprised of the situation by the messenger already. They were both smart enough to realize the implications. 

Mima, the saint that she was, stepped forward and took the hairbrush from Zelda, helping her work out a stubborn knot on the back of her head. 

The three of them weren’t alone in the room. There was a trio of young women on one side of the throne room, busy with pulling down the old dusty curtains, which were half rotted after a hundred years of sitting in the open elements. They stopped their work when they saw that Zelda had entered, waiting for an order to leave, but Zelda gestured for them to continue. If these strangers had to see the throne room in such a state, they could at least see that there were steps being taken to put it back to its proper state.  

Thankfully, the stonework itself had already been repaired, so the throne room was no longer quite so open air. The Gorons had sent a team over as soon as they had heard she was planning on starting work on the castle, and Zelda couldn't be more grateful. They were quick and efficient and the work they had done was excellent. You could barely tell the castle had been destroyed, just from looking at it. 

All that was left to do in the castle itself was the redecoration. Zelda, who had never been one for interior design, had left that in the capable hands of a group of young men and women who had traveled to Castle Town from Hateno. At the moment, they were mostly focused on getting the last rotten remnants of the castle's previous inhabitants out. 

The entire throne room would need to be redecorated. Her father’s throne was made out of solid marble and cushioned with red velvet, but it hadn’t survived the attack undamaged. A long crack ran up the back of it, splitting it neatly in too. Then there were the curtains and carpets. Even if they weren’t ruined, Zelda still would have preferred to replace them. The red that her father favored in his reign gave Zelda a headache just to look at. There were too many bad memories attached to the color.

Perhaps a nice light blue would be better? And Zelda would have to either design or commission a new royal crest…. It had been a hundred years, after all. The only ones who remembered what the old crest even symbolized were Purah, Impa, and Zelda herself. 

Zelda shook off those thoughts as Mima finished brushing out her hair. No time for thoughts of redecoration now. There was an embassy to see. She tossed her hairbrush behind one of the old dusty curtains still hanging around the room. She’d retrieve it later. She situated her tiara on her head. Hopefully, she looked alright

She sat delicately on her father’s throne. As long as she sat up straight, the damage it had suffered wouldn’t be obvious. They hadn’t had enough time to replace the throne, and sitting in a smaller chair off to the side would have sent the wrong message. Zelda was not a temporary step in while they waited for the real ruler to return. She was the queen, so the uncomfortable broken throne it was. 

With a nod from her, Hoz left the room to fetch their guests.

It didn’t take long for him to return, eight men and boys trailing behind him. Zelda refrained from lifting an eyebrow at the sight of a preeteen and someone who looked even younger than that, based on his height. Not what she would have expected from a group of ambassadors. It wasn't shocking that they had brought their children on the long journey here, no, but it was odd that they chose to bring the children into the first meeting they had with the monarch of the country they were visiting. 

But it wasn’t like they had anywhere to leave the boys that was clean and not an active construction zone, so she supposed that made sense. What didn’t make sense, though, was the odd collection of clothing and weapons the group wore. They didn’t look anything like the embassies that Zelda remembered seeing a hundred years ago. It was becoming increasingly clear to her that this group wasn’t actually an embassy from a foreign nation, but that didn’t explain who they actually were. 

The group walked forward, somehow both self-assured and strangely hesitant at the same time, like they weren’t sure what to make of this situation. They walked with confidence towards the throne, but once they reached a respectful distance, they gathered closely together as if unsure which one of them should step forward to address her.

Zelda did not address them. She simply waited to see what they would do. If they were here to attack her, this was where the facade would end. 

After a few agonizing moments, one of the group- a man in his late twenties wearing a navy blue scarf and green tunic- slowly knelt. The rest follow suit, though none as fluidly as the first. This, at least, was expected behavior. Kneeling before a monarch in their own throne room was proper. Their hesitance made it even more clear that this is no officially sanctioned embassy.  

After letting them sweat for a few seconds, Zelda nodded. When she spoke, her voice was strong. 

“Rise.” 

The group followed the order quickly. Those in the back of the group shuffled slightly, but the man in the blue scarf got to his feet in a single elegant movement. He met her eyes respectfully, waiting for her instruction. 

Zelda inclined her head as regally as she could manage. She felt like a child stumbling around in oversized clothes, forced into a role she didn't fit, but she was confident enough to know she was putting on a relatively good show of being in charge and confident. “Introduce yourself.”

The man placed a hand on his chest and ducked his head, bowing slightly. “I am Captain Tailleur, Your Majesty.” 

Ahh, Zelda thought, a military man. Strangely, he didn’t include his first name in his introduction. She wondered for a moment what country he served, but didn't ask quite yet. 

“These are my brothers.” Captain Tailleur made a sweeping gesture backward toward the rest of the group. Zelda didn’t necessarily disbelieve him. In fact, the whole group shared a certain resemblance that she found eerily familiar, but couldn’t quite place. But still… 

“Seven brothers? That’s quite impressive” There was no accusation in her tone, but still the man flinched slightly. Zelda wouldn't have picked up on it if she hadn’t spent her childhood at her father’s side while he held court, studying the faces of those who came to supplicate him. 

“Brothers-in-arms,” Captain Tailleur corrected himself. Zelda let it slide. The rest of the group wouldn’t need to be introduced individually if they weren’t nobles in their own right, and from the look of them, they weren’t. 

“What business do you have in this land?”

Captain Tailleur twitched, and didn’t answer. Zelda leaned forward slightly. Not enough to reveal the broken back of the throne, but enough to put a sense of pressure on the man, make him feel scrutinized. “I’ll ask again, Captain. What business do you have in my land? I have little patience for this. Surely it’s obvious my kingdom is recovering from a great tragedy. We have no room for intruders.” 

“We are no intruders, Your Majesty.” Both a lie and not a lie, Zelda could tell, which was interesting. She couldn't make heads or tails of that.

“No?” Her voice was becoming openly hostile as the atmosphere in the room became tense. Hoz and Mima were shifting on either side of her throne, their grips on their spears tightening. “You certainly do not come from this land. There are no Captain Tailleurs in my military, sir.” The only captain she had was Hoz, who was standing right next to her, but he didn’t need to know that.

A beat of silence, before Captain Tailleur spoke again, this time slower, as if he was carefully choosing his words. Zelda could tell she was making him uncomfortable.

Good. She still didn’t know why they were here or if they meant harm. Making him uncomfortable meant he was more likely to make mistakes.

 “We’ve traveled far to reach here, and I am not sworn to serve you, that’s true. But Hyrule is our homeland. We are not intruders.” Were they descendants of refugees who fled the Calamity a hundred years ago, now returning to their homeland? That would make more sense. 

He continued, “We came here on an urgent mission. We are searching for someone, and we think it may be of interest to you as well.” A relative of theirs, perhaps? Someone descended from a shared ancestor who had stayed behind when the rest of their family fled? 

Zelda thought again about the similar features their faces held, but she still couldn’t place where she’d seen their features before. If they say their search might be of interest to her as well, perhaps they were descendants of nobles? That would explain why they looked so familiar, if she had seen their ancestors around the castle before the Calamity.

“While we were making our way to the castle, we ran into one of your servants. He told us he knew where to find the man we’re looking for, but said he was carrying a rather urgent notice to you. He agreed to allow us to deliver it.” Captain Tailleur produced a rolled-up scroll sealed with blue wax from a pouch at his hip. 

Zelda kept her face impassive as she gestured Hoz to go retrieve the letter. A spark of worry that had nothing to do with the men before her flares. An urgent message? Was something wrong in one of the villages? But then again, how urgent could it really be if the messenger was willing to pass their message on to someone else? 

“What was the name of the man who sent this message with you?”

Captain Tailleur stiffened, and Zelda could see embarrassment on his face. “We… did not catch his name. He was an archer, wearing Sheikah armor and a mask over his mouth. He assisted us in a fight against a group of monsters, then gave us directions and this letter.”

Hoz returned, handing her the scroll. It was high-quality parchment, and it looked suspiciously familiar. She turned it over, looking at the wax seal to see if the stamp held any clues.

It did, and suddenly Zelda knew why this parchment was so familiar. It was the type of paper she wrote her research findings down on. She procured it especially from a Zora artisan because it was waterproof and made to last longer to suit the longer lifespan of the Zora. 

It was also the parchment that Link kept stealing from her, which was confirmed by the imprint of a silent princess flower in the wax. The imprint came from a signet ring she had gifted to Link. She’d found it in the ruins of her father’s study, though she didn’t remember him ever wearing anything like it and it wasn’t sized for his fingers.

She’d given it to Link when he’d told her he was going to start traveling again after things had started to settle down again after the Calamity. It gave her a feeling of security to know the letters she received were actually from him. 

Captain Tailleur’s description of an archer in Sheikah armor matched as well. Link did like to travel in his Sheikah stealth set to avoid too much attention. It also made sense that Link would know where the group’s relative was. He knew almost everyone in the kingdom.

Zelda broke the crisp wax seal on the letter, unrolling it carefully. It took her a moment to decipher Link’s chicken scratch handwriting, but when she did, she had to read the letter twice to make sure she was seeing this correctly.

Dearest Zel,

LIE TO THESE GUYS AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. THEY HAVE WEIRD VIBES. TELL THEM AS MUCH BULLSHIT AS YOU CAN. COMPLETLY FUCK WITH THEM.

Love, 

Link 

P.S. I’m going to visit Riju for a while

Keeping her face carefully stoney, she stared at the letter for longer than she needed to. This served two purposes: firstly to make the group in front of her think the letter was longer than it actually was, and secondly, it allowed her time to control herself. 

When she felt she could remain calm for long enough, she looked up from the parchment, remaining resolutely stone-faced. She stared the group down, not letting her confusion or amusement shine through in her expression.

“Thank you, sir. I need some time to think on this news.” She gestured with the letter a bit, carefully not letting them see what was written on it. “I will have someone come get you when I am ready to meet with you again.”

“Of course, your majesty. But, please, do not wait too long? Our mission is a rather urgent one.”

She inclined her head, though pointedly did not agree to the man’s request. She could see him wince when he realized that making requests of a monarch who was clearly already suspicious of them wasn’t the best idea, and that she would make them wait as long as she liked.

Turning to where Hoz stood to the side of her throne, she said, “Captain Hoz, could you send someone to make up some spare rooms for these gentlemen?” And to the other side, she spoke, “And could you possibly direct them to the baths? I’m sure they could… freshen up after such a long journey.” She let a little bit of disdain into her voice, because she was nothing if not someone who could commit to the bit, and if Link asked her to fuck with these men, then fuck with them she would. She couldn’t actually smell them from where she was sitting, but she would let them think she could.

Hoz and Mima offered her respectful bows and swept out of the room with an imperious air, Mima gesturing for the men to follow after her. Zelda was so grateful for the two of them. She honestly didn’t know what she would do without Hoz, sometimes, and Mima was a life save on more than one occasion. 

Link’s recommendation to choose Hoz as the captain of the royal guard was an excellent one. She made a mental note to thank him later and ask if he has any more recommendations of people she should add to her staff. There was probably no one in Hyrule who knew the population better than Link did, after all.

As the strangers left, she could see the one in the blue tunic try to discreetly sniff his underarm and ask Captain Tailleur- in what no doubt was supposed to be a quiet voice- if they really smelled that bad. The man thwacked him on the back of the head in reprimand. The sound was loud enough that even Zelda could hear it from across the hall.

“Wind, show some decorum, please.” That caused a round of titters to erupt from the cleaners, who had been quietly continuing their work up to this point. They clearly tried their best to muffle their laughter but failed. Both Wind- what a strange name- and Captain Tailleur flushed scarlet, and the Captain dragged the boy out of the room after the rest of their group.

When the group was gone, Zelda remained tense, not daring to let herself show her emotions just yet. With a wave, she dismissed the cleaners. “Girls, why don’t you all go take a lunch break?” None of them seemed inclined to argue with her. They were all eager to grab something to eat, and head towards the doors to the throne room immediately, leaving the baskets full of old curtains where they were.

Zelda relaxed back into her father’s throne the second the doors closed and there were no more eyes on her. The corners of her lips twitched, but she restrained herself. Valiantly, she waited until the voices outside the room faded and she was certain no one was within earshot before she burst into laughter.

Burying her face into her hands, she could only think, “Oh, Link, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

[minty-mythos]

Bull Horns and Webbed Hands (Ch.3)

Summary: Since Percy became an instructor at camp, he knew first hand how stressful is was to be in charge of the health and safety of over a hundred demigods. Which was why he offered to travel to Olympus in Chiron's place to give the Olympians the monthly camp status report. All he had wanted to do was give Chiron the day off.

He hadn't planned for anything exciting happening. He certainly hadn't planned on accidentally adopting the Ophiotaurus while he was there. As usual, nothing ever goes as planned for Percy Jackson.

(Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Read on AO3)

~~~

Percy woke to the sound of a camera shutter going off. 

Normally, a sudden sound like that would’ve startled him awake, but his father’s ever-calming presence soothed him. He knew nothing could ever hurt him here; whoever was making that noise wouldn’t dare lay a finger on him in his own father’s temple. When no other sounds followed for several seconds, Percy was tempted to succumb to the call of sleep.

The sound of a shutter going off a second time dragged him far enough out of his doze for him to realize he should probably get up and catch whoever it was who was taking pictures of him. 

Years of living in camp with the Hermes kids had taught him that blackmail was the best currency, and the last thing you wanted was slightly embarrassing pictures of yourself floating around. Percy fought against the feeling of warmth and comfort that tried to lull him back to sleep. Whatever he was lying on was cozy, and it took more mental effort to shake off the last of the sleep than it probably should.

When he finally pried his eyes open, he was given an immediate jumpscare by the sight of Hermes floating just feet above him. He only barely restrained from launching himself upwards in surprise, instead managing a much more reasonable reaction of using the water around him to gently push Hermes back another few feet, giving himself his personal space back.

The messenger god allowed himself to be pushed backward by the water. He was currently human-sized and dressed in casual ancient Greek clothing. He clearly wasn’t working, as he was neither in the more formal outfit he usually wore during council meetings, nor the FedEx uniform he wore when he was working in his role as a messenger.

Now he wore a white tunic covered loosely with a deep orange himation, both embroidered with golden decorations. His wide-brimmed petasos traveling hat and simple sandals were adorned with fluttering wings as usual, white feathers tipped with orange that matched his himation. George and Martha weren’t on his staff for once, instead draped comfortably around his shoulders and apparently asleep.

Both Hermes and his snakes looked untouched by the water, despite being completely submerged. The wings on his hat and sandals all fluttered like they were still holding him aloft in the air, not water. It was a strange sight, but Percy put it out of his mind. Gods were strange most of the time. If he wasted his days trying to puzzle everything about them out, he'd be an old man before he got very far.

Hermes’ caduceus was in its phone form, and he was chuckling to himself as he snapped another picture of Percy. Percy very nearly lunged for the phone instinctively in an attempt to delete the photos but stopped himself. Firstly because trying to take a god’s weapon of power right out of their hands would probably get him incinerated immediately, and secondly because there was a warm weight pressing down on his chest, stopping him from getting up.

Glancing down, the sight of a mop of curly black hair brought memories of the council meeting flooding back. Bessie was still sound asleep, the sounds of the camera apparently not bothering him. While they had slept, he’d migrated from his position against Percy’s side to curl up on Percy’s chest and use him as a mattress. 

Percy groaned, relaxing and letting his head flop back down against the puff they lay on. Waking Bessie up just to get Hermes to stop taking pictures wasn’t worth it. He ignored the god’s cackle and the sound of the camera going off once again. Honestly, this wasn’t the worst blackmail anyone had gotten of him. 

(A small part of him wanted to ask Hermes to send the pictures to him, but he ignored it.)

“This is going on Twitter for sure.” 

That did make Percy sit up, sitting cross-legged on the puff. He adjusted Bessie as he did so, gently maneuvering the limp child into his lap, careful to not wake him. Remembering how Bessie had feared the gods during the council meeting, Percy wasn’t sure how Bessie would react to being so close to a god.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” If the gods wanted to keep Bessie’s new ability a secret from the wider mythological world, perhaps posting a picture of him on Twitter wasn’t the best idea.

In the years after the Second Giant War, the children of Hephaestus and Vulcan had made it a mission to figure out a way to make demigod-proof phones. There’d been a need for more consistent communication between Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter, and Iris Message and messenger eagles just hadn’t cut it. 

That need had driven innovation. 

It had taken time, a lot of collaboration (which Percy knew played a not-insignificant part in calming tensions between the camps,) and some divine help from their father, but they’d eventually managed it. Not only did the new technology not attract monsters to any demigod who so much as laid a finger on it, but it was also generally more advanced than what was available for the average person to buy.

Now, every new demigod that came to camp was provided with a modified phone, and any devices they already had received a mandatory free upgrade. Phone use was still restricted at camp out of an abundance of caution, but councilors, older campers, and instructors were allowed to carry theirs around instead of having to keep them locked away the whole summer, for use only during the off-season when it was only their own safety they’d be risking. 

With more consistent access to technology, demigods had inevitably found the godly side of social media. Sections of apps, websites, and forums were cloaked so only those who could see through the mist could access them. 

Demigods had swiftly taken advantage of this, making their own places to congregate online. Percy’s personal favorite invention was an app called Tracker, where anyone could report sightings of monsters, gods, and various other mythological creatures to alert other demigods in the area of potential danger. It had saved him on more than one occasion.

But besides the more practical applications, there was also an explosion of new users on the mythological sections of normal apps and websites, which before then had been exclusively used for gods, nature spirits, and some sentient monsters. This inevitably led to the demigods finding out that the gods themselves were also on social media. 

The week that revelation had swept through the camps had been equal parts tragic and hilarious. In particular, watching the reactions from the Cabin 7 kids had been amusing. It was clear they didn’t know whether to be fascinated by Apollo’s highly curated spotify playlists and youtube channel- which was apparently a literal godsend for studying for medical school- or horrified by the thirst traps he posted on Twitter. 

Inevitably, this also meant that most demigods were following the Olympians on Twitter, Hermes included. If the messenger god posted a picture of Percy with Bessie, his existence wouldn’t stay hidden for very long, and Percy would have a lot of questions to answer when he got back to camp. 

“Um, isn’t this-” He gestured at Bessie with one hand- ”supposed to be a secret? Should you really be posting pictures of him on Twitter?”

Hermes continued to tap away at his phone, but looked up at him and raised a pointed eyebrow. He shrugged. “You kind of blew that, kid. A group of nymphs is telling everyone who’ll listen about the Hero of Olympus carrying around a child who looked just like him.” 

Hermes snickered at Percy’s expression of exasperation, both at the use of that title and at the fact that, as he suspected, he was once again the center of the rumor mill. 

“But you’re right- probably not the best idea to go around telling people exactly who this is,” Hermes said, gesturing at Bessie with his phone. 

“However, it seems the collective has already decided that he’s your half-brother- the first demigod to be born of the sons of Kronos since they were released from the oath. No harm in letting them think what they want to.” 

Hermes shrugged as if to say, “What can you do?” Then lifted his phone and snapped another picture, this time of Percy sitting up and cradling Bessie. Percy didn’t react because he was pretty sure Hermes was just doing it to get a reaction out of him now.

“So, you guys finished your debate then?”

“Sure did! Wouldn’t be here if we hadn’t!” 

That was true enough. 

“And?”

“He’s allowed to live.” 

Relief flooded him. Bessie was safe.

Well- for a given value of safety, seeing as he would likely still be hunted down by those who wanted to overthrow the gods if the news about who he really was ever got out, but at least the gods themselves weren’t a threat to him.

Percy gave a jaw-cracking yawn as he relaxed, and then ran a hand through his hair, trying to flatten the wild bedhead he knew he must have. No daylight reached this far into the temple, so Percy had no idea if he’d slept for a few minutes or for hours. He felt refreshed, but that was to be expected from sleeping in his father’s temple, no matter how long.

“How long was I asleep?” 

Hermes finished typing, and with a flick of his hand, his phone transformed back into a caduceus. It looked strangely bare without George and Martha on it. “I don’t know how long you’ve been asleep, but it’s early morning now. Almost time for breakfast at camp, in fact.” 

Percy blinked. That meant that he’d been asleep for at least thirteen hours, which was definitely not normal. Both simply because it was a long time to sleep uninterrupted for anyone, let alone an adult, and also because it was rare for him to get a full night’s sleep without a nightmare. 

It ultimately didn't matter since Percy didn’t have anything planned for last night, but he hoped someone had told Chiron why he hadn’t returned. It wouldn't be good for the old centaur's blood pressure if he thought Percy had gotten himself killed by the council somehow.

Hermes continued, ”The meeting itself only took a few hours, but your father demanded you be left alone until morning.”

Percy blinked in surprise. He’d honestly expected it to have been much longer than that for them to come to their decision. The gods rarely did anything quickly. It had even taken them a year and a half to agree to address the issue of Kronos gathering power.

“That was fast.”

Hermes shrugged, appearing unbothered. “We’d already agreed to let him live when we thought he was only a mindless creature. It’s not much of a stretch to let him continue to live now that we know he is..” Hermes trailed off, and Percy saw a flicker of regret in his eyes as his gaze flicked down to Bessie. “Sentient,” he finished lamely. 

Percy thought about how Bessie had feared the gods yesterday, and wondered if Hermes had ever been the one to kill Bessie. Percy narrowed his eyes at the god and tightened his hold on the boy slightly, causing him to shift and grumble in his sleep.

Hermes was watching him with calculating eyes. His familiar crooked smile was nowhere to be seen now. The god moved further away, his wings propelling him effortlessly through the water as he put more distance between them.

He settled down onto one of the other chairs in the little seating area, a swing-like net strung between two nearby branches of giant coral. Despite the strange chair, Hermes managed to look dignified as he sat, avoiding swinging back and forth wildly like Percy had the first time he’d sat in a chair like that. 

His expression had turned pondering, and he just looked at Percy for a while. One hand reached up absently to gently stroke the head of one of his still-sleeping snakes as he stared, the other holding his caduceus across his lap. Percy had to stop himself from squirming under his scrutinizing gaze.

Hermes was silent for so long Percy was about to ask him what was wrong when he finally spoke. “You know, we aren’t in the habit of killing people just because they might pose a threat to us.”

Percy just stared at the god, letting his face do all the talking he couldn’t let his mouth do without calling the god an absolute moron. He wondered if Hermes had forgotten who he was talking to.

Hermes' lips pursed as if he’d heard what Percy was thinking, though Percy doubted the god was actually reading his mind at the moment. He was sure Hermes didn’t need to- his face likely said everything he wanted to say. 

The god suddenly leaned forward, forcing Percy to hold eye contact with him, like he wanted to be sure Percy understood what he was about to say. The quick movement jostled both George and Martha awake, who raised their heads to take in their surroundings. They started hissing quietly in Hermes’ ears, though Percy couldn't make out what they were saying. The god ignored them.

“Percy, what happened during the winter solstice of ’06…You need to understand it wasn’t typical behavior for us. The council isn’t in the habit of smiting our followers for any small slight or potential threat they might pose. You know this- you wouldn't still be alive if we were.” 

Percy knew that was true. His habit of mouthing off to the gods hadn’t gotten any better over the years, and yet he had somehow avoided being sent on a permanent trip to Hades’ kingdom by an angry god. 

“Years ago, you told me you believed gods are capable of change, and you were right,” Hermes looks a little bitter now, but the expression is quickly wiped off his face, and Percy decides not to comment on it.

”I didn’t want to admit it then, but times have changed, Percy, and so have we. We’re kinder now than we were in the old days, much more likely to forgive and forget.” 

Hermes paused, considering. “That, and we can’t really afford to go around killing the few worshippers we have left. But even if we were still the same as we were in ancient times, what we did was still wrong. The council is the ruling body of the Greco-Roman pantheon and that includes the mortals and creatures aligned with us. Which includes Greek demigods and monsters.” 

Hermes stopped there, but Percy shook his head when it was clear Hermes wasn’t going to continue, his thoughts spinning uncontrollably. He broke eye contact with Hermes, instead watching as George and Martha slowly slithered their way down the god’s arms to curl back around his caduceus. 

“I don’t understand.”

“In other words,” Hermes explained slowly, as if he was choosing his words carefully, “both of you are our subjects. We have a certain duty of care towards you, and killing you when you’ve committed no real slight against us would go against what we’re meant to do as rulers. Of course, for the good of the many, sometimes the good of the few must be overlooked. That was the thought that prompted the debate on that solstice.”

Percy’s mouth twisted into a strange grimace. He understood that- Hades, he’d done it himself, sacrificing the good of the few to protect the many. But the memory of that council meeting had sat with him for a long time, turning into a twisted ugly ball of resentment that settled heavy in his gut. 

Before then, he’d never seriously threatened the gods. At most, one might say that sending Medusa's head in a box to the gods could be a threat, but besides Zeus sending Echidna and the Chimera after him and Poseidon returning the package, no one had ever brought it up afterward, so it couldn’t have been that big of a deal. There was also the duel with Ares, but that had been for the good of the pantheon in the end, so no one could fault him for that, even though he’d won.

He had gone on three quests in a year and a half for them, with no reward for himself besides not being killed.

Then he came back from the third grueling quest, during which he had slept little and eaten even less. He and Thalia had been instrumental in freeing Artemis and delivering the Ophiotaurus safely to Olympus, and the only thanks they’d gotten was the threat of death for a crime they hadn’t even committed yet. 

So, yes, he understood why the gods had needed to have a serious conversation about what to do with him and Thalia. They were a huge potential threat to the entire pantheon the gods couldn’t control, but the panic and fear he’d felt in that moment- fear that maybe no one would care enough to speak up in his defense, that he would be killed, that his mother might not ever find out what happened to him-

Percy knew he'd never really gotten the events of that solstice, but he’d tried his best to push that resentment away.

Hermes frowned as he studied Percy’s face. “Nonetheless, it was not a conversation that should’ve been had in front of you. That was foolish.” Hermes admitted. Percy looked down at the crown of Bessie’s head, where his face was smushed against Percy’s chest, not wanting to look at the god anymore. He absently ran a hand slowly through Bessie’s thick hair, causing him to let out a quiet noise and nestle into him further.

He knew it was rare for the gods to offer an apology to a mortal. In fact, this was the first acknowledgment any of the gods had given him that they knew what they did that solstice had been wrong.

Even then it wasn’t a true apology, no, but it was likely as close as Percy was ever going to get.

It did help, to at least know that one member of the council regretted what they’d done, and would even go so far as to call it foolish. Something was soothed inside of him by that. The resentment and lingering fear didn’t go away, but they eased slightly.

Percy sighed, deciding to not acknowledge Hermes’ words right away. He needed more time to think about this conversation before he offered any sort of forgiveness, if he ever did. 

“What’s going to happen next, then?” Percy said, blatantly changing the subject. Thankfully, Hermes let him, settling back into the chair, suddenly looking absolutely relaxed, as if they hadn’t been having a very tense conversation. 

“We decided that the child won’t be able to stay on Olympus. Seeing as you were so enthusiastic in your defense of him, it was suggested that he would stay under your supervision at camp.” 

That made a small bit of anxiety inside Percy unravel. He’d been a little worried that Bessie would be kept locked up on Olympus. He wasn’t sure he trusted any of the gods with actually raising a child, and even if he did, he didn’t think constantly being around the gods would be good for Bessie, considering their shared history.  

“Your father wanted to take him to Atlantis but The King refused.” Yeah, Percy had expected that. Zeus' reasoning for not allowing Poseidon to take Bessie to Atlantis the first time had been ridiculous, but Percy had long decided to not get involved in Olympian politics if he was at all able to stay out of it, so he wasn’t going to look into it any further. 

“The compromise was to allow him to stay at Camp, with both someone from Olympus and someone from Atlantis coming by to check on him occasionally. When he’s older, we’ll likely reconsider. Even Father wouldn't be able to keep an adult sea creature from going to Atlantis. All creatures of the sea are your father’s subjects, and he would throw an absolute fit if The King even tried to do so. That includes you, know you. It’s why he was able to bring you to Atlantis once you’d grown.” 

Hermes sounded equally amused and jealous at that fact, and Percy was reminded that though things had gotten much better between godly parents and their kids, most gods were still forced to keep their children at arm’s length. Hermes had once told him that it was the hardest part about being a god- not being able to help their mortal children. Percy was grateful there was a loophole he and his dad could exploit, but not everyone was that lucky.

Hermes continued on without further comment. “For now though, while he’s still small enough he needs a guardian, he’ll be staying above the surface.”

Percy nodded slowly, absorbing all that information. “Who’ll be the ones to check up on us? Not Dad, I’m guessing.” He doubted it, but a small part of him still hoped it would be Poseidon. He got to see a lot more of his dad nowadays than he did before, but it still honestly wasn’t as often as he wished.

Hermes shrugged, leaning forward in his swing chair again, the movement made him sway slightly. “The one from Atlantis will be someone of your father’s choosing. Likely one of the nymphs who already live there, or a Naiad who’ll visit occasionally. That’s where he is now, actually- off searching for a suitable mentor. He asked me to bring you two directly to Camp when you woke up.”

With that, he stood and took a few hovering steps toward where Percy sat. He stood over Percy and Bessie, and casually swung his caduceus over his shoulder, offering his other hand to Percy.

“Ready to go?”

Percy hesitated. He knew Hermes couldn’t hurt either of them here, but if he willingly left Poseidon’s temple, then he wouldn’t have those protections anymore. Hermes’s smile flickered slightly. It might have been Percy’s imagination, but the god looked a little hurt. 

“Come on, cousin. Don’t you trust me?”

Percy just raised an eyebrow at him. Hermes sighed and fluttered down so he was standing on the bottom of the pool in front of Percy, the wings on his hat and shoes folding away once they weren’t in use. 

“Look, your dad wouldn’t have let us harm the Ophiotaurus-”

���Bessie,” Percy automatically corrected him.

“What?”

“His name is Bessie.”

“Ah,” Hermes looked a little baffled, which was an expression Percy was used to seeing from the gods. “Right, I forgot you named him. Anyways, your father wouldn’t have allowed me into his temple if I had any foul intentions towards you or Bessie.” Hermes smirked in amusement, his tone taking on a humorous edge. “As you can see, he isn’t here to strike me down for entering uninvited.”

Percy had to admit Hermes was right. If Hermes tried anything at all untoward towards Percy or Bessie- Poseidon’s most favored son and a creature under his protection- Hermes would have no recourse here, even if it were something the god could technically get away with elsewhere.

Percy groaned, gathering a still-sleeping Bessie more securely in one of his arms. He accepted Hermes’ hand, using it to pull himself up to standing. 

Hermes didn’t let go of Percy’s hand once he was standing. The next time Percy blinked, they were no longer in Poseidon’s temple. The loss of his father's presence was jarring, and he stumbled slightly as he opened his eyes to find himself standing in one of the living rooms in the Big House. Thankfully, Hermes steadied him before he could fall or drop Bessie.

“There, see? One hero and one Ophiotaurus, safely delivered to Camp Half-Blood, just as promised.” 

Once Hermes was sure Percy had his feet under him again, he let go. “Well, little cousin, this is where I’ll leave you for now.”

“Oh, hold on,” Percy said, stopping the god before he could disappear, remembering that Hermes had left out a piece of information about the strange new custody arrangement. ”Who’s going to be the one coming to check on Bessie for Olympus? You?” 

Percy wouldn’t mind that, honestly. Hermes was one of the gods he got along with the best.

At that question, Hermes gave him the most genuine smile Percy had seen from him in a while. “That,” he said cheerfully, “has yet to be decided." Percy didn’t know why Hermes seemed so truly happy about that. It wasn't even the slightly manic glee Percy typically saw from the god when he was planning a prank. It was genuine joy.

“See you later, cousin!” Hermes said brightly. His two snakes hissed a quiet farwell too. 

Percy blinked, and the god was gone. Looking down at the sleeping child in his arms, Percy decided he wasn't going to worry about it. He’d find out sooner or later. He walked over to one of the nearby couches and sat down. 

According to the clock on the wall, there were still twenty minutes until seven thirty and the start of breakfast, so he could let Bessie sleep a little longer. 

Settling in, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. The first thing he saw when he opened it was a notification from Twitter telling him @/Hermes_Offical had mentioned him in a tweet.

Rolling his eyes, he clicked on the notification out of curiosity, and was greeted with several pictures of himself. 

The first was him, clearly sound asleep and sprawled ungracefully on his back, with Bessie curled up on his chest. The second picture was him sitting up and cradling Bessie while glaring at the camera with a fierce look on his face. The expression was somewhat negated by his horrendous bedhead and mussed clothing. Thankfully, Bessie’s face was hidden in both pictures, tucked into Percy’s chest, but enough of him was visible to note that he looked pretty similar to Percy.

Hermes had simply captioned it: ‘Found my favorite family members having an unplanned sleepover in Uncle P’s temple @/seaweed_and_salt’ 

The post already had over two thousand likes, which was impressive for a post that was only visible to those who could see through the mist. Percy groaned and let his head fall against the back of the couch.

(If he saved both pictures to his phone, no one was around to notice.)

[kithtaehyung]

minted: part two (snippet) (m) | myg

snippet: minted: part two (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au series: masterlist | part one summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! enjoy this snippet since i missed the initial part two drop! note 2: this series is for @sailoryooons, @joonary, and @minttangerines! love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma, poor reader :(((, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee…, tension, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn est. drop date: september 16th, 2024 snippet word count: 1.5k est. total word count: 9k >:))

—

—

There’s something to be said about the human gut. 

Not because it’s the source of multiple health aspects, or the way it’s connected to the brain. 

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you? 

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run? 

You don’t know if you released your hand or if Yoongi let it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink. 

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking. 

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too. 

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree. 

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down. 

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you! 

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too? 

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff. 

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved. 

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is. 

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on? 

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling. 

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with. 

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home. 

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors. 

Perfect.

“What.” 

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.” 

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?” 

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket. 

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends. 

This is all too much. 

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.” 

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm, and the voice you hear courses through your ears, “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside wait he’s gonna let you go that easily? 

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian. Nor man, for that matter.

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization. 

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him than you are by yourself right now. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun. 

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with Yoongi, either. You don’t even know who he is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again. 

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done. 

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again. 

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal. 

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back. 

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance? 

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic. 

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening. 

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a hotel employee, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches. 

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire. 

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not. 

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse. 

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions and words you can’t name.

Yeah.

You fucked up.

Fuck.

-

-

tbc. :))

-

are we ready for the drop?! | join the taglist!

a/n: this is just the beginning!! who knowwwws what's gonna happen during the rest of the 9k+ lsdkfjdskl thank you all so much for hanging in there for me as i navigate multiple hobbies and endeavors. it means a lot to see your words of encouragement! always appreciated, and i hope you look forward to the real drop hehehe. more links: masterlist

[strangenewwords]

i'm genuinely curious, so answer in the tags:

how did you first consume fanfiction? and/or, what was your first fanfic obsession?

[nikholascr0w]

shower thoughts - word count: 423 - pre rosekiller fluff - originally posted 2/12/2024

Barty sat fully clothed in the bathtub, the loud sounds of the overhead shower soaking his clothes and trying and failing to drown out his thoughts. He wasn't sure how he'd expected this time to be any different. It was always the same. He really should give up on this whole love thing.

The shower shut off abruptly startling Barty out of his thoughts and unseeing stare. Evan plopped himself down on the floor next to the bathtub two containers of ice cream held in one arm and two spoons in hand, he used his free hand to hold one of the ice cream tubs and a spoon out to Barty.

"rough night?" Evan's tone was casual, conversational, not demanding for Barty to tell him everything just giving him the option.

Barty took a few bites of his ice cream, key lime pie, his favorite, before he spoke. "he dumped me" he stabbed his ice cream a little agressively with his spoon "said I was "too much' and he 'didn't have the energy to deal with me' whatever that means."

Evan didn't say anything just nodded softly so

Barty continued

"The asshole didn't even have the decency to do it somewhere private. He did it right there in the restaurant and left me with the bill." Barty scowled at his knees pulling them up closer to his chest as he picked at the rips in his jeans.

Evan frowned at that "Bitch."

"I know!! and he had audacity to keep my fucking hoodie!" Barty stabbed aggressively at his ice cream again

"I'm pretty sure that was my hoodie actually-"

Barty snorted "that hoodie stopped being yours the second you left it in my room"

Evan laughed, it was sweet and soft and for a while Barty laughed too. they both trailed off after a few minutes and the bathroom was quiet again

"I really thought he liked me this time" Barty whispered, dropping his head onto Evan's shoulder, his still wet hair soaking Evan's shirt Evan didn't seem to mind. He just reached over and rubbed Barty's back. Silence fell again but it was comforting this time.

"wanna go order a pizza, watch old disney movies and talk shit about him till you feel better?"

Barty laughed "hell yes"

And as they curled up on the couch in their shared apartment, the scent of one of Evan's hoodies and Evan's mint chocolate chip breath filling his nose. Barty thought maybe he would be okay because he was never too much for Evan, Evan always stayed.

This post is part of my effort to save some of my posts from my old blog which I unfortunately lost access to so if the writing style or hcs do not line up with my present posts that is why

[the-last-quest]

While Nine isn’t the same as Tails something they have in common is their love for mint.

But like most things their experiences with it were very different.

[2152 words]

Tucked away in an alley a small kit winced as he tried to hide himself away from the glaring eyes and harsh fists that the city was filled with. He had already had an unpleasant encounter earlier in the day, and while not being the worst he’d experienced he was still left with a throbbing ankle and the taste of blood in his mouth.

His ears perked up as he heard faint footsteps heading towards the alley. He pressed himself against the wall as much as he could, eyes squeezed shut. He tried to quiet his breathing but as the footsteps drew nearer it picked up as his thoughts began to race. ‘What if the same cat from earlier came back for more? What if he doesn't stop after a few hits this time? What if he brought others to help him? What if-’

“Are you alright dear?” A female voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.

He waited for a moment before opening his eyes to look at the owner of the voice, an older red cat lady who seemed to be concerned for him. He didn’t answer her, knowing she hadn't noticed why he was in this state. He knew he needed to be ready for when she did, for when her kindness would turn to attacks that he was far too used to. He watched as her eyes scanned over his small frame, the exact moment she noticed obvious to the fox as her face changed from a look of concern to one of disgust.

He flinched at the change of expression and curled into himself, eyes screwed shut again, he didn’t think that she would hurt him, but one can never be too trusting in this city. Anticipating an incoming impact he didn’t see what the lady was doing. He was about to look up again when something came flying towards him, just barely missing. He braced himself for more, but none came. The only thing he heard was the sounds of footsteps fading away,

Only after the sound had long faded into the distance did the kit open his eyes again. He peeked out of the alley looking both ways down the road. It was empty now as it was getting later, less people venturing out of their homes. As he returned to the safety of the alley something on the floor caught his eye.

It looked to be a candy of some sort. He picked up the candy and held onto it as he dragged himself to the end of the alley, ignoring the shooting pain that came from his ankle. Despite it being late he didn’t want to have an interaction like that again. In the safety of the back of the alley he sat against the wall ready to settle in for the night.

He opened his paw to examine the candy the lady had thrown at him. He had never seen anything like it before. It was a remnant of before the chaos council took over, the small treat lacking any of the council’s usual obnoxious packaging, instead wrapped in a thin clear plastic, the green and white swirl intrigued him. He wondered if he could trust the candy. The cat didn’t seem to have malicious intent, leaving the fox to his own devices for the most part, but she obviously didn’t care for him. As he stared at the candy in his paw, pondering whether or not he should eat it his stomach let out a low rumble. He bit his lip, the candy wouldn’t help his hunger much, but at the moment he would take anything he could get.

With shaking fingers he cautiously unwrapped the plastic wrapper. Taking the candy up to his nose he took a small sniff of it.

He coughed, not expecting how strong it was. The scent made its way through his nostrils down to his mouth, the flavor ghosting in his mouth. It gave his mind something else to focus on. It distracted him from the taste of copper in his mouth, even with just the faint flavor from the scent.

‘This could be useful in the future.’ He thought while he lowered the candy to look over it again. The attack from today wasn’t that bad compared to others he had in the past, and he’s certain he’d have worse ones in the future. It would be a good idea to hold on to the candy for later, to have a distraction. He grabbed the plastic to wrap the candy up when his stomach growled again.

His eyes glanced from his stomach to the candy. ‘It won’t do anything, save it for later.’ The rational part of his mind told him. ‘Save it for later, it'll be more useful then.’ But that didn’t take away the situation he was in right now. He was hurt, hungry and tired and tucked away in a cold alley in the city and right now that small candy, while not being able to fix any of that, could take his mind off of it.

He popped the candy into his mouth.

Just like when he smelled it the taste overwhelmed his senses. He never had something that strong before and in this moment that was all he needed. As he got used to the flavor he leaned his head back onto the metal walls of the city. Right now he didn’t care about the state he was in, he just focused on the flavor hanging in his mouth. He focused on it instead of the throbbing pain coming from his ankle. He focused on it instead of the difficulty he had breathing. He focused on it instead of the ever growing emptiness of his stomach.

On the streets of New Yoke the fox focused on the flavor of the candy for as long as he could.

——————————-

Many things had happened after that night in the alley.

The young fox grew older and more tired of the attacks he endured in the city. He built himself mechanical tails to protect him, along with giving himself a name.

He distanced himself from others in the city, none of them cared for him so why should he care for them. He grew cold as he focused on surviving.

Then a blue hedgehog had broken into his bunker and turned his life upside down.

He learned many things from the hedgehog. He learned of friendship and care. Of hope and heartbreak.

After everything he was left in a state worse than before. In a castle that represented his rage as he lashed out against the shatterverse, with no long term hope to survive, and with a corner that he couldn’t bear to look at.

As he stood and looked at the green portal in the distance he decided this wasn’t going to be the end of the story.

——————————-

It was nighttime in Green Hill. A large moon casted its light onto two figures walking along the grass.

Sonic and Nine moved in silence. The hedgehog had just found the fox in the cave where the prism had lied. It was a rough reunion with neither of them expecting it, but each of them having something they needed to say to the other. With emotions running high and both of them becoming exhausted it had been cut short when Sonic had offered Nine to stay for the night, for both of them to get rest and clear their mind so they wouldn’t run themselves dry. Nine was hesitant until the hedgehog had mentioned that Tails wasn’t going to be in their shared home for the day so they could deal with one thing at a time.

The two reached the house that Sonic and Tails shared. Sonic opened the door and held it open for Nine with a weak smile. Nine didn’t return the smile, but the small nod he gave as he walked through the door made the hedgehog’s smile grow just a little.

As Nine walked in and waited for Sonic to lock the door behind them his eyes were drawn to a small bowl of candies on a table next to the door. They were the same candies that the lady had given to him years and years ago, a candy that he never thought he would have again.

Sonic must have noticed him looking at the bowl as he let out a quiet amused chuckle. “Those are Tails’ mints. He has them out in case he’s had a bad day and needs one as soon as he gets home.” A fond smile formed on his face as he thought of the fox so different yet so similar to the one in front of him. “You can take one if you want.” He offered. Nine thought it was some sort of olive branch to release the tension the two had between them. He glanced at the hedgehog and back to the bowl of candies and decided to take one, as long as it made Sonic happy.

There was another silence between the two, much lighter and much shorter than before as Sonic spoke up again.

“Come on, room’s this way.” He said with a gesture to follow him.

Nine followed Sonic as he brought him further into the house. When they reached a hallway Sonic stopped at the first door and pushed it open for Nine silently.

As Nine stepped into the room he looked over the interior. It was simple, being an obviously very underused guest room, the only furniture being a bed and a side table and a lamp. It had very minimal decoration and looked like it had been untouched since the bed was brought in.

Sonic sheepishly scratched the back of his head, “It’s nothing much but-“

“Thank you” Nine interrupted with a small murmur, looking up at Sonic, a light ghosting on his face. While the room wasn’t much to look at it was still better than any of the ones he had back in the city. Even with all his decorations it couldn’t hide the cold metal that made up the space. This room, even while being barren, gave Nine a sense of comfort that he had never had in his one space.

Sonic returned the smile and placed his hand on Nine’s shoulder giving it a small squeeze. “Get some sleep okay kid? I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

Sonic exited the room, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

Nine rubbed his hand down his face wearily as he made his way to the bed and plopped himself onto it. He opened up his other hand which contained the ‘mint’ as Sonic had called it. The green and white swirl taunted him as his mind raced with thoughts

In the back of his mind he cursed at having another similarity to Tails. Another part cursed about his counterpart having easier access to the candy if the bowl full of them was anything to go by while he had only had the treat once in his life.

And yet another quieter part of him reminded him of why he liked the candy so much, of how he got his first taste. If the two were really that similar could Tails have been introduced to it in the same situation? Could it be a comfort for the other fox as well?

Letting his thoughts fade away, Nine unwrapped the mint. Holding it in between his fingers he brought it up to his nose and took a sniff of it.

The scent had a similar effect as the first time, traveling up his nose and into his mouth, the flavor bringing him comfort as it had so long ago. Along with the comfort the scent brought back memories of a time he longed to forget. Being hurt and alone, with the only comfort being an act of pity that didn’t even last.

But right now he wasn’t alone. Past the door he could still hear soft footfalls that belonged to a certain blue hedgehog. A hedgehog who had cared for him since they first met. Even when he realized that Nine was different than he initially thought it didn’t waver. Even after showing him the ugliest sides of himself and nearly destroying everything the hedgehog had ever loved, he opened his door for the fox to stay in.

The rational part of his brain told him he didn’t need the mint. He was safe right now and should save it for when he really needed it. Just as he did before he didn’t listen to it. Sure he was safe right now he didn't need the mint, but he wanted it. Plus they weren’t in short supply either so he didn’t have to hold onto it forever.

Nine popped the mint in his mouth.

It tasted exactly like he remembered it.

[bluediva]

Me scrolling through tumblr and seeing some fanart for Tokyo Mew Mew.

And now I can't stop thinking about a fanfic with a My Hero Academia crossover. Uncle Shota and niece Mint maybe?

[goodbyevanny]

(The full pic is posted on my AO3) Crowley and Aziraphale spend some quality time together, based on Ch. 3 of CopperBeech’s fic “Mint Tea,” which is now complete! The sex is so hot, and the story of them coming to trust each other and mutually take care of each other was so beautiful!

You can find me on Twitter, Instagram and AO3!

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Chocolate Mint

Wherein the Drifter and Eris Morn inspect the Drifter’s garden after dinner.

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

*** Content Warning: Mature language, sexual topics *** (They keep their clothes on but they do discuss sexual topics and sex with each other in the immediate future.)

“Rub the leaves then smell your fingertips. They got oils on them and just a little rub lets them free.”

“Hmmm…”

“Peppermint. Spearmint. Lemon mint. And our plant of the hour, chocolate mint.”

“Where did you find them?”

“The ground, mostly.”

She smirked.

“Mint grows all over the place on Earth. Most of my plants are just shit I picked up. Sometimes gardens from ruined settlements. Sometimes wild. The chocolate mint is recent though. I got it from a market in the city. Someone was selling plants and I thought it might make nice tea for ya, seen as it’s not sweet but still has that smell. Like a dessert but none of the lies in your mouth.”

“It lies in the nose instead.”

“Is it really lies, though, if it’s just being what it is?”

She slid her arm around his waist and held him close.

“You’re right. It’s not lies. Just filled with contradictions.” She smiled at him over her mug. “I do like it.”

“Figured you would. That’s why I got it. Do you want some? Like the live kind? I can sprout one for you easy.”

“It would die under my care, I am sure.”

“I mean… might be a good excuse to let me visit ya on the moon more often, keep it alive, if you wanted.”

“Hmmm…”

“This here.” He pulled off a tiny leaf from a small bush of tiny leaves and held it under her nose for her to smell.

She cocked her head as she inhaled.

“This is thyme, which was in your dinner tonight. And this,” he pulled off a much larger leaf from a bright green plant,” is basil, which were the bigger green leaves in the sauce.”

She smiled, rubbing the leaf in her fingers while smelling it. “This one smells especially good.”

“Basil’s a workhorse. Goes in lotsa things. Good on a sandwich too.”

Eris detangled herself from him and walked over to a different shelf covered in plants and poked a fuzzy leaf.

“That’s a tomato,” he explained. “And this mess of vines is cucumbers, which is the thing those pickles you like so much are before I turn them into pickles. Watch out though… cucumbers are mean little bastards. They got spines.”

“They also have little ropes that spiral.”

“Yup. Cucumbers climb. Slowly of course. That’s why they have that net there. So they can climb it.”

“Are these also cucumbers?”

“Nope, those are beans. They also climb. They’re not spikey though. Beans will strangle other plants. Wrap those little tendrils around the other plants’ stems till the top just pinches off like a garotte slicin’ their little plant necks open, but they at least have the decency not to make you bleed when you pick ‘em with yer bare hands.”

“Hmmm…”

“Plants are violent fuckers. Any time you see plants out in nature, lookin’ all peaceful-like, that’s a war going on. They’re fightin’ each other for their survival at all times, just real slow.”

“And yet they don’t have to fight here. You’ve given them peace.”

“They still will kill each other if ya don’t keep an eye on ‘em. Just not quickly.”

“Are the lights timed?”

“Yup. Sixteen hours on, eight hours off.”

“Do you water them?”

“I’ve got that on automatic. Runs under the dirt.”

“Don’t they need insects for pollination?”

“Every once in a while I manage to get some bees or something going but they always die off. I’m still working on that. Don't have any right now. I mostly use a paint brush to brush the flowers.”

“You paint the flowers.”

“Yeah. Plant fucking. Some of ‘em can fuck themselves, but most of the ones with flowers need some assistance.” He held out a small paintbrush. “Behold the instrument of plant fuckery. The plant dildo, if you will.”

He reached out and brushed the tip of her nose.

Eris smirked. “So crude.”

“Not as crude as ‘cum on my thighs.’ You do realize that based on my previous and varied professions, you have literally made a sailor blush.”

She put her mug down and put her arms around his waist, pulling him close. “I can appreciate crude in certain circumstances.”

“Clearly,” He put his own mug down next to the beans. “You love me.”

“I do.” She pulled him into a long slow kiss.

“Mmmm… You know what we should do?” He whispered after a few minutes, kissing her neck.

“Hmmm?”

“We should go camping.”

“Camping?”

“Yeah. Like Europa, only not freezing fucking cold, and not needin’ to fight off patrols of Vex and Fallen every few hours.”

“Now?”

“We could stay here tonight, get some supplies in the morning, be out there by afternoon. Make a nice fire. Pitch a tent. Bring some fishing poles and a cast iron pan. Kettle for your tea. Stay a few days. Ikora could spare you for a few days, right?”

“Hmmm…”

“Come on… now’s the time, right? When’s the last time Eris Morn got a vacation? You could bring some books. I got a folding table and chairs. You can read in the sunshine by the lake. We can snuggle by the fire under the stars. Lots of tea.”

“That does sound appealing. I owe Ikora a report though.”

“You can write it while we’re there. Bring a data pad or hive leather or whatever you wanna write your report on.”

“Hmmm… would you consent to letting Ikora know where we’re going? She will worry.”

“Yeah but then she’s gonna spy on us. I don’t think you want anyone hearing the noises I’m intending on gettin’ you to make.”

“I’m sure we could arrange something less invasive,” she whispered between kisses.

“We can stop by her office in the morning when we’re on our way out, does that work? But we are going, right? You’ll come camping with me?”

“Mmmhmm…” She nodded through a kiss.

“Do you… actually… want me to cum on your thighs? That do something for you? Cuz if that does something for you…” He twisted her hips back and forth.

She laughed. “No, not especially. There are… other things I’d prefer.”

“Such as?”

“Us both having fewer clothes would be a good start.”

“Here with the plants? The potatoes have eyes you know,” he said conspiratorially, “Bed might be more comfy. Unless you are enticed by the vegetables in some way.” He winked playfully.

“I’m enticed by you.” She pulled him closer.

“Even with a candle in a soup can?” It was only there for a moment, but for just a moment his confidence slipped, his eyes pleaded for acceptance, and she realized he was holding his breath.

“Yes.” She kissed his lips softly. “Even though you only have a candle in a soup can, you made a candle-lit dinner for me, and you made me something that hasn’t been made in a thousand years, from memories that are precious and painful, and every bit of it suffused with affection and care.”

His nose brushed against hers. “That was the idea, yeah.”

She reached a hand up to caress his face. “For someone with as many layers and masks as yourself, there is such exquisite beauty in the naked honesty with which you love me.”

He turned his face and kissed the palm of her hand. “Speakin’ of… let’s take off some of these layers, shall we?”

This is part 2 of 3 in Dinner for Two. However please do be advised that part 3 will reference happy fun sexy times which occur "off screen." This is not an explicit story series but they do end up being sweet and cute and naked together. Anything straying into actual depictions of happy fun naked sexy times will remain on Ao3 where you need to click past an age verification and agree you want to read that content, as well as include tags so you can know exactly what the story contains before reading, if you so choose.

[minty-mythos]

A Little Spark of Hope (Ch. 1)

Summary: While running away from his bullies, Percy finds himself somewhere he's never been before, faced with strange monsters and stranger people.

AN: This was inspired by this writing prompt by @/write-it-motherfuckers

(Read on AO3)

~~~

The school that Sally had enrolled Percy in for the third grade had a massive playground. It tucked away behind the school, penned in on one side by the school, and on the other three others by a thick sprawling forest. 

A long chain-link fence stretched across the edge of the forest to keep kids from wandering into the forest. The forest seemed to strain against the boundary. Strands of ivy and other trailing plants covered the fence, and the long branches of small trees and large bushes arched over the top of the fence and nearly touched the ground on the other side. 

Some of his classmates liked to play there, where the overhanging branches partially hid their activities from the exhausted teachers. The teachers were usually more focused on stopping kids from jumping off the top on the monkey bars than whatever was happening in the bushes. 

Even though he wasn’t the only one who spent recess in the bushes, Percy was pretty sure he was the only one who knew about the spot in the corner of the playground where the bottom of the fence had been bent upwards. It was a small gap, and most wouldn’t assume that anyone could fit through there. Even a typical third grader probably would have gotten stuck trying to squeeze through, so the school clearly hadn’t bothered to repair it.

Unfortunately for the school, Percy was not the size of your typical third-grader. He was nearly a half foot smaller than his peers and weighed significantly less. Percy knew the doctor his Mama took him to was worried about it. (And about the fact that he barely spoke, and fell behind his agemates in nearly every metric there was. His mother never seemed worried, though, so Percy wasn't either.)

Being so small made it easier for the other kids to push him around, Especially Stephen, who was in the grade above Percy. He was a year older, probably thirty pounds heavier, and the star of the junior wrestling league. 

Stephen’s class had the same time slot for recess as Percy’s did and he’d apparently decided to make Percy his favorite person to torment. It helped that Percy rarely fought back. He knew if he did, he’d get in trouble. Teachers always seemed to blame him whenever anything bad or even just weird happened, which inevitably meant he was expelled by the end of the school year, or simply told not to come back.

So most of the time, he was at Stephen’s limited mercy. He didn’t find Percy every day. Sometimes Stephen didn’t look for him, preferring to play in the game of tag that always broke out around the swings, or start a pick-up game of soccer. Those days, Percy always hid back by the fence under the low-hanging branches. Out of sight, out of mind. 

Sometimes, though, when Stephen decided he wanted to taunt Percy, he’d come looking for him. The boy and his friends didn’t know the meaning of the word quiet, which always gave him ample warning. This was the one time Percy’s small size was actually beneficial. If he was quick enough when he heard them coming, he could drop to the ground and wiggle under the fence. 

Even if Stephen knew that was what Oercy was going to hide from him. The older boy would never bother to roll around in the dirt to get under the fence, and he wouldn’t fit even if he tried.

So far, Percy had been able to avoid anyone seeing him do this, so he didn't think anyone knew where he disappeared off to. Stephen definitely wasn’t smart enough to ask the teachers where Percy was and raise the alarm that someone was missing. Doing that was guaranteed to get Percy in trouble, but Stephen wasn’t smart enough to realize that. Inevitably, when the boy couldn’t find him, he would give up and go back to whatever game he’d been playing before he remembered Percy existed. 

Today has been a particularly bad day so far, and Percy was really hoping Stephen wouldn’t come looking for him.

Mama had forgotten to set her alarm for that morning so they’d woken up half an hour late. They’d rushed through their morning routine, and Percy hadn’t even had time to brush his hair or grab anything more than a banana and a granola bar for breakfast, both of which he’d had to eat in the car. Mama had driven very fast to get him to school on time, and even then he had to run into the school from where Mama had dropped him off. 

In his rush, he’d tripped and fallen on the sidewalk just outside the school doors. He’d landed awkwardly, somehow managing to scrape up his palms and knees and bang his head on the corner of one of the benches outside the school. Mama had already driven away in order to make it to her shift at work on time, so he’d had to pick himself up and run into the school.

When he had finally made it inside, his teacher Mr. Owens had glared at him and marked him late. Percy had seen the way the teacher distastefully eyed his rumpled clothes, messy hair, and the newly forming bruise on his forehead. 

When he’d gone to the bathroom later in the day, he’d seen a line of nasty green bruises from his right temple to the middle of his forehead, right where he’d hit himself on the bench. 

He’d splashed cool water on his face, which had made him feel a little better and soothed the bruise, but his head had still hurt the entire morning.

So now he was hiding at the back of the playground, sitting on the ground with his back pressed up against the fence. He hoped he’d remain unbothered for the rest of the day. 

All he wanted by now was to go home, have a warm supper, and go to bed. He hoped Mama would make soup for dinner tonight. She always made him a can of chicken noodle soup when he wasn’t feeling good, and right now he felt horrible. He knew better than to try to ask Mr. Owens if he could go home. Even if the teacher agreed to let him go to the office to call Mama, she probably wouldn’t be able to pick him up from school early. She was working all day, and unless it was an emergency, she couldn’t afford to take time off work to pick him up. 

Which he was stuck here. 

Unfortunately, his unspoken prayers remained unanswered as he heard the tell tale signs of his usual bullies approaching. The boy made enough noise shouting to his friends that Percy had plenty of time to roll onto his stomach and wiggle his way under the fence. He got up and didn't even bother to brush off his clothes before bolting. 

He couldn’t stay right on the other side of the fence. The ivy partially obscured the view, but he was still visible, especially with the light blue shirt he was wearing today. It didn't take long before the calls of “Hey, didn’t Julie say he was sitting over here?” to fade away, and the fence to disappear in the mass of foliage. 

Percy kept running. He didn’t want to hear anything else they said. His head hurt, and if he had a chance to get away from the noise of the playground, he would take it. He liked being in the woods. It was peaceful and quiet, and he liked the way it smelled. 

So focused on the fading sounds of the other children, Percy didn’t notice as his surroundings began to shift. The oak and maple trees he was rushing past slowly gave way to gnarled olive and cypress. The soft earthy ground passing beneath his feet became more and more rocky with each passing second.

He didn’t even register as the veil of the Mist was lifted from his eyes, leaving him clearsighted for the first time in his short life. He didn’t notice as he ran faster and faster, much faster than a normal underweight third grader should’ve ever been able to run. 

He definitely didn’t notice as he started to glow ever so softly, his godly blood awakening, and burning through the small amount of mortality his mother had gifted him.

Distantly, the fates laughed, plucked a string from the tapestry of fate, dipped it in golden dye, and  tugged, tugged- tugged- until the string stretched all the way back to the ancient past,         and then rewove it  into the tapestry.

[yallemagne]

Question! I guess I'm gonna have to write the X-Men going to an ice cream parlour for Operation Birthday, so... what ice cream flavours do the X-Men like?

Note: I encourage non-dairy/sherbet options as well. There are definitely sherbet enjoyers on this team.

I've already decided that Jubilee will be eating Superman ice cream, and I'm giving Morph mint chocolate chip because I'm a self-projecting fiend, and I also think Morph would totally be the type to bring up the mint chocolate chip debate to start meaningless arguments on purpose.

Note: if anyone throws a fit over mint chocolate chip on this post, you are blocked. It is an ice cream flavour, please grow up.

EDIT: for clarification, the people that appear in this scene are Beast, Rouge, Gambit, Wolverine, Magneto, Roberto, and aforementioned Jubilee and Morph. Storm is on the other side of the country being sad and Cyclops and Jean are dealing with politics. Shoulda mentioned that, obv most people who see this post will not have read the fic already. And technically yeah I don't need to establish the flavour for everyone, but it's good to have in mind if any of them come up naturally.

[rutlancecf]

He's still a little kid.

However, despite the fact that Damian had already threatened them, Todd and Drake decided to play a joke on him, although more than that, it was to show him that it was just a stuffed animal and nothing more.

Tim was in charge of entertaining Damian with a case in the Batcave, while Jason locked himself in the kitchen with Chips, where he had what was a hamburger, fries and a glass of soda, all toys.

- Look, Chips.- He spoke trying to sound friendly.- What delicious food, and it's just for you.-

He put the stuffed animal in front of the food, and waited for it to eat it.

- It's a toy.- He told himself after a while, feeling like an idiot.- They don't eat.- He rubbed his face.- The stupidity of the demon spawn is rubbing off on me.-

*SLAM*

The door fell apart, all because of a strong kick from the Son of the Demon, jarring Todd.

- WHERE IS CHIPS? ANSWER, TODD, IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO KILL YOU WITH MY OWN HANDS!- The green eyed boy growled.

- Here's your stupid rabbit, brat.- After saying that, he took Chips and threw him at him.

- Chips!- He caught the bunny and checked it.- Are you okay? What do you have? Answer, Chips!- And he turned to see Jason.- What the hell did you...?-

He was speechless when he saw what was on the table, opening his eyes disproportionately, from which tears began to flow.

- FOOL! WHY DID YOU ...?- He bit his lip and left the kitchen.- PENNYWORTH! PENNYWORTH!-

- Master Damian?- Alfred came out to meet him.- What's wrong?-

- They poisoned Chips!- Damian couldn't stop crying and was shaking from head to toe.- Save him, Pennyworth.- He held out the bunny.- Chips is... Chips is my friend.-

- Of course, Master Damian.- He gently took Chips and put a hand on the boy's shoulder.- I'll see what ...-

- Use t-this, Pennyworth.- He handed him what appeared to be a brown square with a green stain in the corner.- Do-Don't ask, just consume it ...- He covered his face with both hands.- C-Chips ...-

.~o0o~.

A couple of days after the incident, from which Jason and Tim were scolded by the family butler, and later by Grayson for distressing his little baby brother; Chips was lounging and sunbathing on Damian's bed. Then the door opened and he entered with a tablet in his hand.

- Chips, how are you?- He stroked the bunny's head and back, as he sat next to him on the bed.- I have good news for you.-

He took the tablet and showed him a map where a red dot was blinking.

- I found the location of Sprinkles!- He announced happily.

In the sunlight, Chips's eyes sparkled.

~Sprinkles? That's great!~ He replied to his human friend.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45874048/chapters/116574763

[unreadpoppy]

That Which Lies Beneath - a Minthara x Galatea Medieval AU (Chapter 5)

Chapter 4

Read on AO3

Taglist: @littlemoondarling

After a few rounds of cards, and many bottles of wine that had been stolen from the cellar, Galatea was positively drunk. 

“I don’t…I don’t know how you’re still…up.” She said, in a slurred speech. The two were sitting on the floor, by the fire, surrounded by pillows, the cards spread in between them, long forgotten. Minthara could not even remember how they got there. 

“The beverages of Menzoberranzan are stronger. This is nothing.” 

“Well, if I ever…go there or…visit your house, remind me not to drink the wine.” Galatea chuckled. “I’d pass out instantly.” 

She smirked playfully, lifting a brow. “Visit my house?” 

“Why, yes…it’s what friends do” she hiccuped “isn’t it?” 

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t have a lot of friends.” She shrugged. “Do you consider us friends?” 

“Yes. I mean… we have played cards, drank wine and shared stories. That has to count for…for something.” She picked up the rest of the bottle and raised it up. “One last drink. To friendship.” 

Minthara picked up her glass, and raised it too, downing the rest of it in one go. Galatea did the same, but in her state, half of the drink spilled down her face. 

“Oh, fuck me.” She said, trying to wipe the drink from her chin but making more of a mess. 

“Allow me.” Minthara chuckled and crawled over to her, grabbing one of the trains in her dress and dabbing her face with it.

Galatea inhaled deeply, realizing how close they suddenly were. “But…your dress…it’ll stain.”

“I’ll burn this blasted thing once I’m gone. A wine stain will not be a problem.” 

“Okay.” She breathed out, a blush forming on her cheeks and she hoped Minthara wouldn’t notice it. She lifted her hand and traced the tattoo on her neck. “What…what does it mean?” 

Minthara sighed at the touch, Galatea’s sharp nail causing goosebumps. “It’s the symbol of House Baenre.” 

“It’s very pretty…it looks like a-a spiderweb.” She looked into her eyes. “Fitting.” She chuckled and then looked down as Minthara stepped back. 

“Done.” 

“Thank you.” Galatea whispered. 

She nodded and stood up, offering a hand to Galatea. “You should get some sleep. I’ll be on my way.”

“Good…good idea.” The tiefling nodded and took her hand, standing up and stumbling on the bed. Minthara was almost out when she lifted her head to say “Thank you…for tonight.” 

“Of course.” 

She closed the door gently behind her, and when she turned around, she was face to face with Galatea’s younger sister, Briseidas.

“What are you doing here?” The young princess asked, crossing her arms. 

“We were playing cards.” Minthara said plainly, holding her hands behind her back. 

Briseidas eyes narrowed. “Why would you two play cards?” 

“Is she not allowed to play cards?” 

“No.”

“Then why do you care?” 

“Because she’s my sister. And no one’s supposed to be in her room.” 

Minthara eyed her, noticing the uneasiness she had and smirked. “You think I hurt your sister.” She chuckled. “Don’t fret. The times I’ve poisoned entire families, I always began with the annoying little sisters first.” 

Briseidas gulped and her eyes widened and Minthara took a step closer and whispered in her ear “Now, go to your room and leave your sister be. You can talk in the morning.” Minthara brushed past her and marched towards her chambers. 

. 

Galatea woke up the following morning with a splitting headache. Everything hurt: the sun peaking through the window, the sound of the maid entering her room, even the smell of the wine that still clung to her felt like an attack on her nostrils. 

Were it up to her, she’d stay in bed for the rest of the day, but a hand nudged her shoulder. 

“Your highness, the bath is prepared.” The maid said. “You have to go while the water’s still hot.” 

“Let me sleep.” She said, covering her eyes with her arm. 

“I cannot. You’ve already missed breakfast.” The covers were ripped from her and before she could react, the maid beat her with the pillow, like a child would to their sibling. 

That got Galatea to sit up. Her maid, Jenevelle Hallowleaf, looked at her with a mischievous smirk on her face. She had been hired a few years ago, after the princess’s nanny had passed away. Little was known about Jenevelle’s past, as she came from a small village of Selune worshippers, but that hadn’t mattered much to Galatea’s family, so long as she did not speak about Galatea being a tiefling. 

“You do know I could have your head for that.” 

Jenevelle shrugged. “You could, but I doubt you would. Besides, if you don’t bathe, everyone will know you snuck out last night.” 

“How do you-”

“Besides the fact you slept in your costume, I can smell the wine from here.” 

Galatea grumbled something under her breath before standing up and discarting her clothes before walking to the adjacent bathroom where the tub filled with steaming water was. She sighed at the feeling of the water on her skin, and a few seconds later, Jenevelle was beside her, washing her hair. 

“So…how was the ball?” She asked. 

“Curious, are we?” Galatea turned around to look at her with a raised brow. 

“What can I say? I like knowing what happens in these events.” 

“Very well. I didn’t stay long but it was like most balls. Nobles dancing and drinking and young men hounding my sister to get her attention. I was barely able to speak to her.” 

“Speaking of her…I heard a rumor in the servants quarters today-”

“Heard a rumor is your way of saying you were eavesdropping on the other maids?” 

“It’s not my fault they were speaking so loudly and I just happened to be nearby. Anyways, they said that the princess was quite upset.” 

Galatea turned fully around, a frown on her face. “Why?”

“Well, I couldn’t hear the rest because I had to come here, but the princess was seen crying.”

“Oh, for hells sake.” Galatea sighed. “Hurry up. I have to speak to her.” 

“Of course.” 

. 

Once she was ready, Galatea made her way to Briseidas room. She knocked on the door three times and one of Briseidas lady-in-waitings opened it, letting her inside. 

“Sister.” Briseidas said. She was sitting next to the windowsill, a book in her lap. “What are you doing here?” 

“I want to speak with you. Alone.” 

“Can’t it wait?” 

“No.” 

Briseidas sighed, dismissing her ladies. Galatea walked to her, sitting in an empty space near her, and pushed her veil aside to look at her sister.

“What do you want?” The young princess asked. 

“I was told you were crying. I got worried.” 

She crossed her arms, looking out the window. “What did you hear?” 

“Only that you were upset.” Galatea inched closer to her. “Did something happen last night?” 

“Why do you care? It’s not a matter that concerns you, anyways.” 

“Well, unfortunately for you, the gods cursed you with a sister that cares a lot about your well-being.” She reached forward, placing a stray hair of Briseidas’s behind her ear. “Besides, it is unlike you to be like that after a ball.” 

Briseidas looked at her, conflicted. “I…I can’t say what happened.”

“Why not?” The girl shook her head. “Briseidas, if you tell me, I can help you.” 

“You don’t understand, Gal.” She took in a deep breath, and Galatea could see the tears forming in her eyes. “If I say anything-” she hid her face behind her hands as she began to sob, and Galatea brought her close to her chest, shushing her and rubbing her eyes soothingly.  

“Yo-you have to promise me you tell anyone.” Briseidas said, her voice wavering. 

“I promise, now tell me what happened.” 

“That…that drow woman…I-I saw her, walking out of your room.” She sniffed, and Galatea tensed. “Sh-she said she’d poison us all if I said anything.” 

“Minthara said that to you?” 

Briseidas gave her a small, quizzical look before saying “Yes…Lady Baenre didn’t like me questioning her presence.” 

“What did you ask her?” 

“I wondered why she was leaving your room. She said you were playing cards, and then threatened to poison us all if I said anything. I-I got scared.”

Galatea cupped her cheek and smiled softly. “Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen. I’ll make sure of it.”

Briseidas nodded, and hugged her sister.

.

It did not take long for Galatea to find Minthara, as she was in the garden. What she did not expect was for her to be accompanied by Erzoured. 

“What are you doing out of your room, Galatea?” He asked harshly. 

“Father.” She lowered her head. “I need to speak with the Lady Baenre.” 

“And what in the hells could you want with her?” 

“Actually, it was I who sent for her, my lord.” Minthara said. 

He raised a brow. “Indeed? And why have you?”” 

“I, well-” “Lady Baenre is having issue of the…female persuasion, father. You would not understand.” Galatea took a step forward, linking her arms with Minthara and bringing her under her parasol. 

“I see…and was Briseidas not available for that task?” 

“Tis the sort of thing your youngest would not understand, my lord.” 

“Indeed. Besides, my sister is quite indisposed after last night’s ball, we must let her rest.” 

He narrowed his eyes, looking at both of them before rubbing his forehead and sighing. “Alright. But be quick. Lady Baenre and I have much to discuss.” 

“Of course.” Galatea bowed her head and walked away, bringing Minthara along. 

“What is so pressing?” The drow asked, once they were out of earshot from Erzoured. 

“My sister told me she saw you walking out of my room and that you threatened her and our family. Is it true?” 

“Yes.” 

Galatea sighed. “What happened, exactly?“

“Does it matter?” 

“To me, yes.” 

Minthara huffed. “Very well. I exited your room and she was outside of it. She thought I had caused you harm and did not believe when I told her we were playing cards. I then said that if I ever decided to poison your family, I’d begin with her, especially if she mentioned it to anyone else.” 

“Minthara.” Galatea said in a scolding tone. “You can’t say things like that to her, she believes them. Had father visited her first, you could have been in trouble.” 

“Your father’s a weak man, he wouldn’t have done anything.” 

“If it were anybody else crying, perhaps. But for her, he’ll do anything.” Galatea sighed and turned to look at Minthara. “I just…we have important plans set in motion. I wouldn’t want them to be compromised by you getting in trouble.” 

Minthara raised a brow. “I do not get in trouble. But…I’ll try to mince my words next time.” 

Galatea smiled, although Minthara could not see due to the heavy veil covering her face. “Thank you. I’ll retire to my chambers, but we can speak after supper.” 

Minthara nodded, with a small smile on her face. “Of course.” 

And with that, Galatea left.

. 

Later that evening, Minthara was sitting in her chambers, after having dinner, waiting for the princess to arrive. She looked at the fire, thinking about what she had to say. 

It didn’t take long for her to hear a knock on the door and to Galatea make her way inside, sitting next to her.

The two stayed silent for a moment, before Minthara said “I shall return home in the next few days. I had already overstayed my welcome and there’s business there I must attend to.” 

“Oh.” 

Then, Minthara added “However, I do want us to continue our conversations, even if it is through the written word.” 

Galatea raised a brow. “Is that your way of saying you want to exchange letters?” 

“Yes.” 

Galatea chuckled. “Is there a particular reason for that? Besides keeping each other updated on our plans.” 

She hesitated before answering. “I…enjoy our conversations. I would not like for them to end simply because of distance.” She smirked. “Besides, isn’t that what friends do?” 

“Ah, yes. Friends.” The tiefling smiled and shook her head. “Alright. I’ll write you letters.” 

“Good.” 

[slayfics]

Girl talk about villains.

Warnings: nsfw themes

650 words

Featured OCS:

💚 Kansatoki Hikari

💚 Yume Hoshino

💚 Asumi Tachibana

"Ugh," Asumi sighed lying down on the floor dramatically. "I'm so tired of studying," she complained.

"We could take a break," Kansatoki suggested.

Yume nodded in agreement, her own eyes beginning to feel heavy from the long study session.

"Hey, I have an unhinged question for you both," Asumi said sitting upright.

Kansatoki eyed her suspiciously, while Yume sweetly replied, "What is it?"

"If you had to fuck a villain, who would you choose?" Asumi asked.

"Overhaul," Kansatoki answered before Asumi finished her question.

"Oh, that was too fast, you've definitely thought about that before," Asumi said laughing.

"Kansa!" Yume exclaimed. "I thought you were over your Stockholm syndrome!" Yume whined.

"I didn't have Stockholm syndrome!"' Kansatoki snapped. "I just think he'd have the cleanest dick out of all the villains."

"KANSA!" Yume exclaimed, hiding her face, flustered by her friend's vulgarness.

"I bet he's got a girthy one too," Asumi added.

"Oh, he does," Kansatoki agreed.

"Hu?" both girls looked at her. "What did you just say?" Asumi clarified.

Kansatoki's eyes widened, "I just mean- I saw him up close and he radiated big dick energy. Anyway, what's your answer Asumi?" Kansatoki asked forcing the attention off herself.

Asumi thought for a moment before answering, "I have to say Compress."

"Hmm," Kansatoki hummed. "He wasn't bad looking when that ugly mask came off."

"I just want to show him a few tricks myself," Asumi said, with a snicker. "Gonna make that dick disappear."

The two girls erupted with laughter while Yume tilted her head to the side trying to understand the joke.

"All right Yume, your turn," Kansatoki said, her laughter subsiding as she turned her attention to her friend.

"Hu?!" Yume looked between the girls with a panicked expression on her face.

"What villain are you fucking?" Asumi asked.

"Are you insane!" Yume exclaimed, "I'm not-," she looked around as if someone else might hear before whispering, "making love with a villain."

"Of course not, this is just hypothetical, just pick one." Kansatoki urged.

"Fine! Hmmm," Yume thought for a moment, "If Red Riot became a villain, I'd pick him."

Asumi and Kansatoki looked at each other with a pointed glance, before turning back to Yume. "That's cheating you can't choose your boyfriend," Asumi said.

"It's not cheating! It's hypothetical right!? So hypothetically if Eijiro became villain I'd choose him," Yume said matter-of-factly placing her arms on her hips.

"That's it, hold her down Asumi," Kansatoki instructed.

"What?!" Yume yelled as Asumi followed Kansatoki's directions and held Yum's hands behind her back.

Kansatoki slinked over to Yume's stuffed animal collection before grabbing her beloved shark plushie. "Answer now or sharky gets it!" Kansatoki examined squeezing the stuffed animal.

"Put it down! Eijiro gave me that!" Yume squirmed in Asumi's grasp.

"Come on Yume, just say a name and we'll leave you alone," Asumi encouraged.

"Yeah, you can even agree with one of us! Are you thinking Overhaul or the lame magician?" Kansatoki asked.

"Hey! At least Compress isn't a germ freak like that beak brain!" Asumi reported.

"What is it with you both and villains with missing arms!" Yume yelled, still struggling to get out of Asumi's grasp.

"Wrong answer!" Kansatoki said, pulling on the shark's tail.

"DABI!" Yume yelled, causing Kansatoki to stop in her tracks.

"What?! EW!" Kansatoki said, repulsed, and dropped the stuffed animal.

"What do you mean ew!?" Yume questioned.

"Have you seen him?! He's only got half his skin! How do you know he hadn't burnt his dick off!?" Kansatoki questioned.

"I bet he's a freak in bed though," Asumi said letting go of Yume's arms.

"Oh, so you're into freaks?" Kansatoki asked Yume.

"KANSA!" Yume whined, bringing her knees to her chest and hiding her face, embarrassed with herself.

"I'm just teasing ya, I like that answer." Kansatoki laughed.

"Yeah, who knew you had it in you," Asumi agreed.

[6pixiepop9]

What's the matter Minty~?

[mint-mumbles]

Anyone who talks about the “ao3 curse” needs to learn what causation vs correlation is. Saying that this “curse” is real is only harming people

The perpetration of this myth spreads paranoia, which harms people who genuinely believe in it. This is especially harmful to people who experience psychosis.

There are legitimately people who believe in this curse, which ends up making them paranoid and stressed

I see people who say that they want to write fanfiction, but won’t do so because they’re afraid of the curse

So for those who are scared about the curse:

Your loved one didn’t die because you wrote about a character you like dying

You weren’t hospitalized because someone commented that you were punctual on updates

You didn’t get sick because you wrote a sick fic

It’s okay

Everything is going to be okay

This cute kitty is cheering you on! ❤️