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fanficimagery · 4 years ago

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Hell Takes Riverdale pt. I

Imagine moving to Riverdale while your father has some business to attend to. While there, you meet some people you find yourself growing attached to.

Words: 8.8K Author’s Note: Riverdale AU where FP didn’t go to prison for his crimes and Jughead joined the Serpents because he wanted to. This isn’t exactly Northsider friendly and I’ll be focusing more so on the Serpents, so I won’t go into detail about all the drama the Northside gang constantly puts themselves into the middle of, nor will Jughead be a part of it. I will mention a certain family who lives nearby from another show, but I will NOT be bringing those characters in here. The most you’ll get is what I explain about them in the imagine.

Jughead Jones was notorious for laying low and staying out of the spotlight. At least he was until a murder rocked his small town, Veronica Lodge- along with her criminal family- moved in, and his best friends Betty Cooper and Archie Andrews put together their very own crime solving Scooby Gang. He liked a good mystery every now and then, but the murder of Jason Blossom pointed towards his father's gang and he didn't know how to cope with that.

When FP Jones- Jughead's dad- eventually confessed to the murder, Jughead didn't know what to think. All he knew for sure was that his dad was innocent. So he and his friends did their best to prove Mr. Jones of his innocence, which they eventually did, but given FP's past the police decided to keep him a bit longer.

Jughead Jones was a powder keg waiting to explode, so in a move no one expected, he channeled his anger from the crookedness of their small town Sheriff to the local high school jocks when they decided to target the new girl for laughs. Y/N Y/L/N was a meek little thing, small smiles and small voice whenever called upon. She didn't dress like someone who had money, but then again she didn't dress like she didn't have any either. She presented herself as someone from the middle class which is probably why Jughead felt at ease coming to her defense one day out of the blue.

You're at your locker, putting away your books before you head over to the cafeteria for lunch, when someone shoves their shoulder into your back. You grunt as you collide with the metal in front of you, a few notebooks falling to the floor, and you turn to frown at the culprits. Reggie Mantle and his merry band of jocks laugh at you. "Seriously?" You mumble.

Reggie smirks, shrugging. "I gotta find my entertainment somewhere and what better entertainment is there than the new girl with no voice?" You roll your eyes and bend over to pick up your belongings, only for a sneaker clad foot to kick one of your notebooks away.

"Hey!"

The sound of someone being shoved into the lockers next to you has you looking up, a beanie-wearing, plaid shirt tied around the waist, boy coming to your aide. "What the hell is your problem, Mantle?" Hands fist into the material of Reggie's letterman jacket, slamming him twice against the lockers. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase pick on someone your own size?"

Reggie shoves him back. "Cool it, Jones, less you wanna end up in a cell next to your pops."

He scoffs. "You look real tough picking on a girl. Keep walking, jackass."

Your gaze darts between the two boys, chest to chest with one another, and you practically hold your breath. You can see the other jocks just itching for a fight, but the longer Reggie and your savior stare at one another, the less Reggie seems to be amped up for a fight. He eventually scoffs, smiling. "Whatever. The little mouse isn't much fun anyway."

Reggie goes to walk away, but not before kicking another one of your notebooks further down the hall. You sigh and start collecting your things closest to you once more.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about him. Reggie's a total dick."

You glance at the boy collecting one of your notebooks for you and flash him a small smile. "It's fine. Every school has a bully. I didn't expect this place to be any different."

"Yeah, well.." He trails off, placing the stuff he collected in your locker. "I'm Jughead."

"That's an unusual name," you say. "I'm Y/N."

"Well, Y/N, would you care to join me outside for lunch? I'm kind of alone today and I noticed you don't really sit with anyone either. I'll help keep Reggie off your back," he muses as if his protection would somewhat sweeten the deal.

"Sure. Why not?" You shrug.

Once everything is situated in your locker, you grab the lunch bag that had been hanging from a hook on the inside. Side by side, you walk with Jughead outside and towards one of the concrete picnic tables. He sits down and only then do you realize he had a brown sack clutched in his hand. Immediately he pulls out two smashed sandwiches wrapped in plastic wrap, and unwraps them to start eating.

"So as a token of my thanks," you say while taking a seat across from him and unzipping your lunch bag, "have a fruit cup." You toss him a cool cup of mixed fruit and he happily catches it.

"Thanks." From the corner of your eye, you watch as he stares at you until you start eating your own sandwich and chips. "So Riverdale," he says. "Why here of all places?"

You huff a quiet laugh. Of course you'd heard the whispers about you, curious about your move, but you never spoke to anyone and no one dared to ask you before now. "My half sister lives in Greendale, and she and her aunts were having some personal issues. My dad moved us here so he could help them out, but he wasn't fond of the housing situations Greendale had to offer so we ended up here."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense." He takes a bite of his food. "So are you and your sister close?"

"Not really." Your nose wrinkles. You eat a bit of your own food before explaining. "She kind of hates our dad because he slept with her mom when she was married, but instead of villainizing them both for their mutual decision, she puts all the blame on him."

Jughead shakes his head. "Well that sucks."

"Yep. But she obviously doesn't have a problem calling on him when she's in trouble." You roll your eyes, opening your water and taking a sip. "It's whatever. Riverdale is.. interesting."

"Yeah. It is," he huffs a brief laugh.

Over the next month or so, you and Jughead become actual friends. He attempts to introduce you to his group of friends, but the only one you can actually stomach being around is Archie. Veronica is too nosy, Betty too suspicious, and Kevin rarely hangs out with everyone less it involves a good gossip session. So more often than not, after realizing his group of friends wasn't just your cup of tea, you and Jughead hung out at Pop's Chock'lit-Shoppe.

The retro diner quickly became one of your favorite places in all of Riverdale, but upon entering one Sunday evening and seeing Jughead's expression you know you're not going to enjoy your dinner.

"Uh oh. What's going on with your face?" You ask as you slide in across from Jughead. "You look like you have some bad news."

He grins, shaking his head. "It's not bad. I'm just not sure how well you're going to take what I have to tell you."

"Mhm. Tell me after I've gotten my food." Almost as soon as the words leave your mouth, Pop Tate himself is dropping off your and Jughead's usual order. "Thanks, Pop."

The old man chuckles. "Don't mention it, Y/N. Enjoy your meal."

"Always do." Before any other words can be spoken, you and Jughead squirt ketchup on your respective plates. He steals the cherry from your milkshake and you plop a straw into his Coke to take a sip. The both of you take a bite out of your burgers, chuckling at each other and how at ease the two of you have become with one another. "So what's up?"

"I'm leaving Riverdale High." You pause in chewing and Jughead refuses to meet your gaze. "I'll be starting at Southside High tomorrow morning."

"Oh."

"It's just- my dad's getting out." When he looks up, the excitement in his eyes at the prospect of his dad coming home makes your exterior soften and you start to feel happy for your friend. "He, uh, he's been doing good. Jail forced him to get sober and he's talking about starting over. I'm going to move back in with him."

"That's good news, Jug. I'm really happy for you."

"Are you?" He grabs a fry and quickly dips it into your vanilla milkshake. You chuckle at him.

"Yeah. I mean we mostly hang out here anyway. That won't change, I hope." He's quick to shake his head, letting you know your weekly hang outs at Pop's would still be on. "I'll just have to toughen up and learn how to throw a punch. Reggie and his goons need a nice swift punch to the throat every now and then, I think."

Jughead exhales with relief. "Please let Kevin know beforehand so he can catch it on video for me."

"No promises."

The two of you go on to finish your food, making small talk and promises to keep in touch. Eventually you have to leave, so before you go your separate ways you decide to give Jughead a ride home. And since he's no longer embarrassed to have you over after the first time you'd been over, he accepts the ride with a shrug.

FP Jones has been out of jail for three days and in those three days Jughead has noticed his dad has been a little paranoid. So one day after school, he's had enough and decides to sit down and talk with him.

"What's going on?"

FP glances away from the paper in his hand. "Nothing. Why?"

"Because you're acting weird! Ever since you got out of jail it's like you're constantly looking over your shoulder."

Jughead and FP stare at one another before FP sets the paper down, running a hand through his hair. "Someone's coming to town," he says. "Someone you don't ever want to cross."

"Okay. And?"

"It's worrisome," FP says. "Mr. Morningstar, he's the real deal, Jughead. Expensive suits, expensive cars, posh accent.. this man can be very dangerous."

"Well then round up the Serpents. I'm sure they'll enjoy running this guy out of town."

"Nah." Jughead scoffs, confused as to what his dad's deal is. "Mr. Morningstar is the one who sent one of his lawyers to get me released."

"..oh."

"But Mr. Morningstar doesn't hand out favors without wanting something in return. I don't like being in debt, Jug. Especially to someone like him."

"We'll figure it out, dad. He reached out to you, not the other way around. He can't want something too bad if he came to you first. Right?"

"I don't know, son." FP falls silent, tapping his fingers along the tabletop. "And there's something else you should know."

"What?"

"Mr. Morningstar isn't exactly.. human." Jughead scoffs, but FP shoots him a warning look. "I'm serious. This man is capable of things you wouldn't believe unless you see it in person, but I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. If he comes around, you do as I say. I'll settle my debt with him as quickly as possible and hopefully Riverdale will be in his rearview mirror sooner rather than later."

Jughead doesn't know how to feel at seeing his dad- the Serpent King himself- looking so on edge. He's never seen him so rattled, so it leaves Jughead himself feeling the dread start to seep in.

Every single Serpent inside the Whyte Wyrm was well aware of who Mr. Morningstar was and to be on the lookout for anyone fitting his description. For a week there was no sight or word about him, the same week which Jughead finally decided to throw in with the Serpents and officially become one of the gang. He had texted his friends, some more supportive than others, but he only found comfort in his decision after hearing back from Y/N who held no ill will towards him for wanting to be a Southside Serpent officially.

Jughead is still healing, everyone at the Whyte Wyrm celebrating him completing his initiation.

"Toni," FP calls out, "serve us up some shots!" The petite, pink haired girl behind the bar laughs, she readily grabbing up shot glasses and lining them up along the bar. She fills every shot glass, smiling as her fellow Serpents grab one to await the impending toast. As FP grabs one, he raises it up while staring at his son across the room who's hanging out with a few younger Serpents. "Jughead, while this wasn't the life I wanted for you, it is your decision and you don't know how proud it makes me to have you ride by side. To Jughead!"

"To Jughead!"

The Serpents all whoop and holler, downing their shots in one go.

"Hear, hear," an out of place accent muses. Those closest to the man who seemingly appeared out of nowhere all tense and FP's smile slowly vanishes as he stares at the man who hasn't aged a single year since he last saw him over fifteen years ago. "Well, well. Freedom seems to suit you well, FP."

FP schools his expression. "Mr. Morningstar."

"Call me Lucifer. No need to be so formal."

The Serpents seem to fall silent as FP and Lucifer Morningstar stare at one another. Jughead, seeing the way everyone is holding themselves as the tension amps up, pushes his way through the crowd until he's just behind his dad. "Lucifer," FP says, "why don't you follow me. We'll go somewhere a bit more private."

Lucifer gestures for FP to lead the way. "After you."

FP glances at Jughead over his shoulder, but he doesn't give him any sort of cue to follow. Instead, Jughead follows after them to a table that's not surrounded by any others over by the stage. Once seated, FP stares Mr. Morningstar in the face. "So what brings you to Riverdale? It's been a while since you were last here."

"Ah, yes," he says. Lucifer leans back in seat, smiling. "I originally came to watch a client of mine wreak havoc on your precious little town," at this, FP and Jughead tense, "but someone very important to me made attachments here and I've had to rethink my plans of letting your town burn to the ground."

"A client of yours?" FP's eyes narrow. "Who?"

"I think you know who," Lucifer says. "Annoying little bugger. But as I said before, attachments were made and I had to keep watch over said attachment to see whether or not I approved. And let me tell you, Mr. Jones, I quite liked what I saw."

"Okay?" He drawls. "So what does that have to do with why you're here? Or are you calling in a favor for getting me out?"

Lucifer laughs. "Oh no, FP. You getting out was not my doing." FP freezes. "You see, this someone important to me is my daughter. She's the one who requested you be freed."

"You have a daughter?" FP shifts in his seat. "Why would she want me out?"

"I do. And because one of your little snakelings made quite the impression on her after showing her kindness when he didn't have to." Lucifer raises an eyebrow at FP's completely flabbergasted expression. "This person was and continues to be genuine with my daughter, so I figured I'd step in and help clean up your beloved little town instead of letting it be turned inside out by Hiram Lodge. After all, it seems we're going to be in Riverdale for quite some time now."

FP glances around, but he can't see any of the Serpents being this person in question. Eventually, he asks, "Who?"

Lucifer's gaze darts up over FP's shoulder and lands on Jughead. Jughead's eyes widen. "Me? Who have I-"

"Me, of course." You choose that exact moment to walk out from the back room, ignoring everyone's stare save for Jughead's. You're a bit self-conscious of the black crystallized crown on your head and the skin tight, all black outfit your dad's minions had chosen for you, but you don't show it. The way you're dressed now, Jughead's never seen you this way. "What's wrong, Juggie? Cat got your tongue?"

Your friend gulps as he eyes you up and down. "Y/N?"

"Surprise!" You muse. At his slack expression, your smile diminishes. "It's still me, JJ. No need to be weird now."

FP glances between you and his son as Jughead asks, "Was our friendship even real?"

Your eyes widen. "Of course it was! I was never meant to make friends here," you quickly explain, "but you just couldn't leave me be when Reggie set his sights on me and you- you befriended me for me." Jughead loses some of the tension in his frame. "You didn't talk to me because of who my dad was and what he could do for you. You talked to me because you felt bad for me and then you continued to talk to me because we actually got along."

A beat passes and Jughead eventually sighs. "Don't kid yourself. I only talk to you because you let me steal the cherry from your milkshake." It takes a moment for his words to sink in and when they do you snort. Lucifer chuckles and poor FP has no idea what's going on.

"This is quite fitting, is it not?" Lucifer grins.

FP frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The Serpent Prince and the Queen of Hell. Royalty always seeks out royalty."

You freeze, Jughead's brow furrows, and FP seems to blanch as he comes to a sudden realization. Quick as a snake's strike, you slap the back of your dad's shoulder. "Not here." Then you glance at FP. "Can we continue this talk in a back room?"

He slowly blinks before he snaps out of his thoughts. "Yeah. Let's go."

FP stands and leads the way, and you grin over at Jughead. "Come on. We have some more stuff to talk about."

In a back office, FP and Lucifer have already taken their seats as you and Jughead join them. Instead of sitting, the two of you stand side by side after the door is shut behind you.

"So what exactly is going on here?" FP wonders.

Lucifer glances at you, smirking, and you sigh. You had a feeling he was going to make you explain yourself. "So I noticed instead of scoffing at the queen of hell comment, you blanched." FP hesitantly nods. "So that means you understand my dad is quite.. different."

Lucifer huffs. "I'm the devil, darling. No need to tiptoe around it."

You cringe as he so bluntly puts it out there and nervously gauge the Jones' reactions. Both seem more than a little intimidated and your heart starts to sink. "I'm still me, Jughead. Just a little.. more."

Jughead glances at you. "You're really the daughter of Satan?" You nod. "And this isn't some joke?"

"No. My sister, the one who lives in Greendale, was meant to take the throne," you admit. "But she really does hate my dad and refused it, so it passed on to the next heir. Hell got a little bit stuffy and some of my dad's more important minions were trying to marry me off, so I left with my dad as he dealt with business here. I was supposed to keep my head down until we moved on, but well.." you trail off, smiling softly. "I found that having a friend was quite nice." When Jughead has nothing else to say, you look towards FP. "You've raised a kind son, Mr. Jones. And for that, I'm going to offer you a favor." He seems to straighten up then, glancing worriedly at your dad. "And don't worry, this is a favor from me. I don't do contracts or cut deals like dad does. My favor is a no strings attached type of situation. This is a favor for a friend."

FP and Jughead glance at each other, and you notice FP subtly shake his head. Jughead sighs and looks at you. "Do you promise that me or my dad won't owe you?"

"Jughead," FP warns.

But you only have eyes for your friend as you step towards him and take up his hands within your own. "I swear. You're my friend, JJ. You got Reggie off my back and offered genuine companionship, so let me do something for you."

"You mean like getting my dad out of jail?"

You grin, releasing his hands and shoving at his shoulder. "Oh whatever. I was bored and you seemed like you missed him. Bite me, Jones." Lucifer chuckles and FP looks like he has no idea what's going on. "So come on. Whose life needs ruining?"

Jughead stares at you before shaking his head in amusement. "You're a little too excited to be ruining someone."

"I am my father's daughter."

Jughead stares at you, as if trying to conclude whether you're being genuine or not, and then has a silent conversation with his dad. Eventually FP sighs, cradling his head in his hands as Jughead looks back to you. "I messed up bad, Y/N. When my dad first got put into jail, someone suggested I visit this lawyer- who is also a Serpent- so that she'll guide me on how to get my dad released."

"And the snake double crossed you. Shocking," your dad chuckles.

"Shut up." Lucifer continues to chuckle, mime zipping his lips shut. You look back to your friend. "Go on."

"She gave me advice as a favor and said I'd owe her one someday in the future. I didn't think it through."

"The snake charmer is notorious for collecting favors and blackmailing you into continuing owing her favors," FP says. "She's turning the Serpents into drug runners and using video of my son delivering a crate of drugs as leverage so we don't tell her no."

Lucifer tuts. "That just won't do. Last I recalled, the Serpents were against drug dealing."

"We are," FP says, "but we can't deny her since she has that damn video. It'll be his word against hers."

Expression tightening, you glance between the two Serpents. "Give me a name."

"Penny Peabody."

Immediately you and your dad glance at one another, and you're the first to shout, "Dibs!" At his pout, you grin victoriously. "It's been awhile since I've seen any action. I'll call auntie Maze to collect the guest of honor."

You and Jughead are sitting at Pop's, waiting for your order to be brought out. It's your usual weekend hangout session, as well as a mini celebration for getting the Snake Charmer out of Serpent territory. FP had been a little hesitant around you and your father, but the more he watched you and his son, and you and your dad, he came to the realization that neither he or Jughead would be in harm's way. No one would be less they actually crossed the devil himself, so you were a bit surprised when FP had actually hugged you when you told him Penny would no longer be an issue. Afterwards, he was eager to talk to your dad and figure out a way to get the Southside cleaned up and fix the Serpents' reputation.

Seeing Jug's beanie laying on the table, you grin as you swipe it and quickly put it atop your head. "What do you say, Jones, wanna switch crowns for a day?"

He chuckles as he shakes his head. "I don't think I can pull off your crown." Your nose wrinkles at him as you laugh. "And speaking of crowns, are you going to tell anyone else anytime soon?"

You shrug. "I only talk to you and your dad, and at that your dad already knew about my dad."

"I didn't know anything about you or your dad and you told me."

"You were my friend before you found out about me being Hell royalty. I don't want to just tell anyone and then have them kissing up because of things I could possibly do for them."

Jughead nods in understanding. "I take it, it's happened before."

You touch the tip of your nose. "Bingo, JJ. Demons of Hell are shady assholes. But don't worry, if I befriend more Serpents they'll find out when the time is right."

"Well I think you're going to get your chance now because here come some friends of mine."

"What?"

"Whoa, Jughead, is that you? You've certainly changed from the last time I saw you earlier."

You smile sheepishly as three Serpents come up to your table, the one who spoke sitting next to Jughead while the tall one climbs in between you and the window, and the female sits on your free side. You pull off Jug's beanie and hand it back to him just in time for your food to be delivered. Immediately, Jughead steals the cherry from your milkshake and you take a sip of his soda. Once that's done, you squirt ketchup on your plates before you take a bite of your burgers.

"Well that was freakishly adorable." You glance at the pink haired cutie next to you and she grins. "Toni Topaz."

"Y/N Y/L/N. Well Y/N Morningstar now. I don't have to hide who I am anymore."

"Nice." She then points to the guy beside Jughead. "That's Fangs and the one on your other side is Sweet Pea." You nod at each boy in greeting, bite down on a few fries and steal from Jughead's plate every time he dips a fry into your milkshake. "So how did you and our snake prince become so close?"

Toni steals a fry from your plate and you grin at her. "First of all, I really hope you're not insinuating anything there. Don't get me wrong, Jughead's a cutie but I'd totally seduce Papa Jones before I went after baby Jones."

Jughead groans in disgust, Fangs and Sweet Pea snort, and Toni laughs out loud. "I like you."

"Maybe the sentiment will be returned soon," you say. "And to honestly answer your question, Jug came to my rescue when a few jerks decided I was an easy target at Riverdale High."

Sweet Pea scoffs. "Ugh. How do you put up with those mangy mutts?" It's his turn to steal from your plate, but you merely raise an eyebrow at his audacity before you glance at Jughead as he smothers a laugh.

"By avoiding them at all cost," you say. "Is food stealing a thing with you guys or..?"

"If you're really hungry, I'd hold onto that burger of yours. Fangs is notorious for stealing any and all food left unattended." Toni chuckles as you pull your plate towards you, but that only makes it easier for her and Sweet Pea to continue eating off your plate.

"You're all heathens," you deadpan. "At least Jughead waited a few days before he started eating off my plate."

The Serpents chuckle all around you and you find yourself relaxing in your seat. You knew the Southside Serpents had a bad reputation, but the more time you spent with them the more you realize just how wrong everyone is. The Serpents are some of the most loyal, drama free individuals you'd met and they're only riled up when someone attacks one of their own. And that- that you can respect.

During your lunch break, you're sitting alone and texting back and forth with Toni. Apparently word has gotten out that the Mayor is looking to shut down Southside High because it's unsafe for children, and the plan is to divide every Southside High student between several other high schools. Needless to say, every Southsider is pissed.

You send a text to your dad, asking if he knew what was going on, and he assures you he and Mr. Jones are looking into it.

Your can of Cola gets snatched up and you snap to attention, ready to argue back for your drink. But the sight of a grinning Jughead sitting across from you makes you relax and Sweet Pea straddling the bench right next to you makes you shake your head at them. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Southside High is in chaos," Jughead says. He takes a sip of your soda before setting it back next to your books. "We were at the Wyrm when your dad asked us to collect you."

"Toni's been filling me in," you admit. "Does anyone know if the Mayor is for sure going through with this plan of hers?"

"It's such bullshit," Sweet Pea grumbles. "Yeah the school is shit ever since the Ghoulies started pushing Jingle Jangle on everyone, but it's ours."

"Don't worry, Sweets. Dad's on it. He'll figure something out."

He huffs. "Against Mayor McCoy? Doubt it."

You and Jughead share a knowing glance, and you bite back a grin. "My dad can be very.. persuasive."

"And scary," Jughead mumbles.

"Yes, let's not forget scary," you muse.

"What the hell is this?" The stern question is barked from somewhere behind you and you turn towards the voice. "Cooper dropped your sorry ass and now you're trying to lure in Y/N, Jones? I don't think so, you goddamn snake."

You roll your eyes at Reggie and his friends, and at the fact that the others sitting outside are now staring.

"Watch your mouth, you mangy mutt." Sweet Pea moves to stand, but you place a hand on his knee in order to silently tell him to stay put. He doesn't glance at you, but he does remain sitting.

Instead, you stand and step away from the bench in Reggie's direction. "What's your problem, Mantle? I know for a fact you don't care about me, so what is it about the Southsiders that has you so insecure?"

Reggie seems surprised that you've spoken back and it takes him a moment to school his expression back into one of anger. "Who the hell says I'm insecure?"

"Come on, Reggie," you grin. "You obviously have a hate boner going on for them." Jughead and Sweet Pea snort, and Reggie glares at them over your head. "So what is it? Is it because they're cooler than you? That they're so much more hotter than you and you know for a fact us Northside girls would willingly get on the back of their bikes than in the car mommy and daddy bought for you?"

Reggie sneers down at you. "Of course you'd be a Southside slut."

Jughead and Sweet Pea shout in your defense, rushing to their feet as you blink in surprise at the venom in his tone. But then anger quickly takes over and no one sees as your hand forms a fist at your side. When Reggie smirks at your silence, quick as lightning you change your stance so you can send your fist flying into his throat.

As Reggie stumbles back and gasps for air, Sweet Pea grabs you by the arm and then you're running. Sweet Pea and Jughead are laughing as they run for their bikes and you readily climb on behind Sweet Pea since he still had a hold of you. Two engines rumble to life simultaneously and you wrap your arms around Sweet Pea's waist, ducking your face behind his back so the wind doesn't sting your eyes.

When the three of you finally come to a stop, you're not in the Southside yet but you are well away from Riverdale High. The engines cut off and you finally pick up your head, and it's quiet for a few moments before Jughead starts to laugh once more.

"You actually punched Reggie in the throat." He shakes his head in amusement at you. "I did not think you were capable of ever hitting someone."

Sweet Pea chuckles. "You do know you left behind all your belongings. It's gonna be trashed by the time you go back for it."

You shrug. "The only thing worth saving was my phone and it's in my back pocket. A backpack can be replaced, and besides I think it's time Riverdale High and I take a break from one another."

Jughead and Sweet Pea's amusement slowly fades. "Wait. What?" Jughead asks. "You're dropping out?"

"No." You huff a laugh. "Transferring."

"Transferring to where?"

"Southside, you dimwits." You squeeze Sweet Pea when he scoffs at you calling him a name, letting him know you didn't actually think he was a dimwit. "I'm so over the drama of Riverdale High. I need a change. And if I want to go to Southside to be with my favorite people, do you really think my dad will let the school be closed down?"

"You really have that much faith in your old man, huh?" Sweet Pea asks.

"I do. And you should too." Jughead glances at you when you say that and you subtly shake your head at him. Soon, you mouth at him. "Now come on. Let's go see what my dad wants. I feel like going out tonight so I need to finish whatever task he has for me and make sure Toni is free."

The small gang of friends find themselves at Pop's diner once again, you being squished between Sweet Pea and Toni while Jughead and Fangs sit across from you. You and Toni share a plate of cheese fries, half of your burger having been stolen by Fangs and you steal sips of Cola from both Jughead and Sweet Pea since Sweets had finished your milkshake. When eating with them, you quickly learned extra food had to be ordered because once a plate was set down it was basically a free for all.

You're laughing at Fangs' affronted expression, from when he tried stealing cheese fries from you and Toni and you both had slapped his hand, when the bell above the door jingles. Your gaze is drawn to the group that enters, your mood souring just a tad when Archie, Betty, and Veronica enter. They glance around the diner for a booth and upon setting sights on your group, Archie chooses a booth not far from yours.

Toni nudges you to show you a message on her phone, lightening up the mood right away. But every now and then your attention is brought back to the Riverdale High group, and you can't help but notice the longing looks Betty keeps throwing at Jughead. And the fact that Jughead keeps glancing over his shoulder until he finally gets up, Betty following him seconds later to join him at a different booth.

"Did I miss something?" You ask when your friend is out of earshot.

Toni huffs. "They're doing that whole on again, off again thing. It's tiring," she says.

You frown as Jughead and Betty start talking, heads ducked close to one another, but then quickly avert your attention back to those sitting with you. You don't really have anything against Betty, but that girl attracts drama like crazy and you would rather not see her drag Jughead into it again.

The four of you left in the booth amuse yourselves while finishing off the remainder of your food, and you make sure that all your plates are stacked with the trash compiled on top so the busboy has little to no cleanup after you leave. But while you're still sitting there and waiting to see what Jughead is going to do, you can't help but overhear Veronica's obnoxious voice filling in her boyfriend Archie about all the great changes supposedly coming to Riverdale soon.

"I mean it's no longer a secret mommy and daddy are buying up property, Archiekins, but can you blame them?" Toni, Sweet Pea, and Fangs all tense, Fangs trying his hardest not to look in their direction. "The Northside is flourishing under their management and soon the Southside will too. We just have a few more hoops to jump through before we can start tearing down and rebuilding."

Having heard enough, you tap Sweet Pea's arm. "Move." Fangs widens his eyes at you and Toni giggles, she loving your more aggressive behavior. Sweet Pea stares at you for a moment before he grins, sliding out of his seat so you can follow right after him. Then taking a few steps towards Veronica and Archie's both, you stop and address the entitled teen. "Consider those hoops everlasting," you say. "Lodge Industries will no longer be buying up any property in Riverdale."

Veronica scoffs, smirking a second later. "And who the hell do you think you are to have any say so in my family's dealings?"

This time you smirk and you mentally cheer when you see her own falter. "Tell daddy dearest the Morningstars say hello. Lucifer will be in touch soon." You reach forward as Veronica's expression completely falls, stealing the cherry from her milkshake and catching the red, plump flesh behind your teeth and plucking the stem free. Letting the stem drop onto the table, you glance over your shoulder and gesture for your friends to follow. They do, chuckling all the while you walk towards the door. But before you walk out, you look over at Jughead and catch his attention. "Hey, JJ, we're heading out. Call me if you need a ride."

"Oh, uh, I'll come with." Betty quickly glances at him and for a split second you feel bad for her. "We're done here anyway." He slides out of the booth, ignoring Betty's frown as he makes his way towards you and his fellow Serpents.

Sweet Pea jostles Jughead, the two boys shoving each other lightly and laughing as the five of your exit. Everyone piles into your small SUV and it's not until Toni is comfortably seated in the passenger seat does she ask, "How serious were you with that threat back there? Can your dad really stop Lodge Industries?"

You slowly start to grin as you back out of your parking space. "Hiram Lodge is one of my dad's clients," you admit. "They have a.. contract of sorts, and Mr. Lodge is rich because of that. But my dad is starting to cut ties with some old clients of his and I'm pretty sure the Lodge's time up on that little pedestal of theirs is coming to an end."

"Sweet," Sweet Pea says from the back seat. "Hey, if your dad buys the school do you think you can ask him to put doors back on the bathroom stalls?"

You and Toni both snort, and you nod your head. "Sure, Sweets. I'll see what I can do."

- - - - - - - - - -

At the Whyte Wyrm, Sweet Pea and Fangs make a beeline for the pool table. Toni heads for the bar, her shift about twenty minutes from starting, and Jughead gets pulled into a conversation by some elder Serpents. Glancing around the bar, you don't see either man you want to speak with so you head for the hallway near the back wall where you know it leads to an office. A couple Serpents guarding the hall nod at you and let you pass without a word.

When you come upon the shut door to FP's office, you knock a couple of times and wait for confirmation to enter. A moment passes before his gruff voice is calling out that exact confirmation.

Opening the door, you walk right in and aren't surprised to see your dad in there as well. You smirk, happy to know he found a mortal he felt comfortable enough to share his identity with and that said mortal didn't go running for the hills. "FP. Dad," you greet. "Just the men I was looking for."

FP leans back in his chair as you take a seat across from him. "What can I do for you, Y/N?"

"Well first, I need to know your opinion about Sweet Pea, Toni, and Fangs." You then turn to look at your dad. "And depending on FP's answer, I need to know-"

"Your first orgy," your dad coos. "I approve. Especially the tall one. He'd make an excellent consort."

"I'm sorry, what?" FP glances between you and your dad, disbelief in his features.

You sigh, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. "Dad, no. Just no," you say. When your eyes flutter back open, you say, "What did I tell you about speaking of orgies so freely in front of mortals? It's weird. Especially since you're my dad. You're not supposed to approve of these things."

"Well fine. Have it your way." Lucifer leans back in his seat, resting his right ankle atop his left knee and taking a sip of his drink. "Probably for the best anyway. Naamah will be upset if you deny her the chance to plan your first orgy."

"Oh my god."

FP finally laughs, shaking his head as if he can't believe what he's hearing. Your dad pouts and you give your attention to FP once more. "The baby snakes are a loyal bunch," he says. "I've had some older Serpents question you and your father's presence here within the Wyrm, but Jug and the others were quick to defend you. Why do you ask?"

Here you look back to your dad. "I want to come clean to them. Jughead knows about me and it's getting tough to censor what I say in front of the others when we all hang out."

Lucifer salutes you with his glass tumbler. "You're the Queen of Hell, darling. You can tell whoever you want."

"Good to know." You push up from your chair, smiling at both men. "Oh and I want Southside High. Veronica Lodge and her family are trying to tear the Southside down and rebuild, but I feel like throwing a wrench into their plans."

Lucifer raises an eyebrow at you. "And how do you suggest going about that?"

"By befriending Mayor McCoy, of course." FP snorts, but you continue on as if you didn't hear him. "She seems like a decent lady when the Lodge's aren't blackmailing her into doing their bidding. Give her a little taste of power, no strings attached and without letting her know your true identity, and show her you're an ally. I have a feeling she'll drop the Lodge's in a heartbeat."

FP grins, shaking his head. "You really are your father's daughter."

You glance at him and smirk. "Duh. Now carry on. I'm going to be with Toni behind the bar."

- - - - - - - - - -

The Whyte Wyrm is as busy as always and you happily find your place behind the bar with Toni. She serves up the drinks as you walk around, cleaning glasses and/or wiping down the bar top. Every now and then you catch your dad or FP's eye, and they signal for a round of drinks that Toni readily makes before walking a tray over to them. You then watch your boys from afar, laughing when Jughead catches your eye and purposefully makes Sweet Pea miss his shot while playing pool. Sweet Pea is apparently a very sore loser, but you can't help to think that he makes a really cute sore loser.

When Toni returns and sees where you're looking, she sidles up to your side while cleaning a glass in her hand. "So, uh, I think I should apologize."

You look at her. "For what?"

"Earlier at Pop's, when I told you Jughead and the Cooper girl were on again/off again, you looked like someone kicked your puppy for a moment there."

"Did I?" You chuckle, shrugging her words off. "It's fine. Jughead has become a really good friend to me and I'm not exactly Betty's biggest fan. They say southsiders are nothing but trouble, but those northsiders have caused a lot more trouble than any of you have. I don't want to see him be dragged into their messes again."

"Oh," she drawls. "Okay. I just thought that you were upset because she and Jughead were together again and you had missed your shot or something."

"No." You laugh. "And besides, I kind of have my eye on another Serpent, but I don't think he likes me that way."

Toni rolls her eyes. "I don't think FP is into jailbait. Sorry."

You snort, shaking your head in amusement. "A girl can dream."

Over the next couple of weeks, you get well acquainted with the power struggle between the Ghoulies and the Southside Serpents within the high school. The school is practically run down, there's no privacy within the graffitied walls of the bathrooms, and a little less than half the student population have no issue taking drugs out in the open while standing in the hallways. Not a single one of your favorite Serpents lets you out of their sight, and though you don't need their protection you welcome it. And their loyalty towards you is what leads you to take that final step in finally telling your other three friends the truth.

Walking up to the Jones' trailer, you stomp up the steps and pound on the door. A few seconds later the door opens and FP raises his eyebrows at you as he's pulling on a leather jacket.

"Y/N?"

"Hey, FP. Is JJ home?"

"Yeah. Come in." He opens the door wider and you step in, heading for the couch. "Is everything okay?"

"Peachy." You grin. You plop down in the corner of a couch, crossing one knee over the other. "I just finally decided to tell the others the truth and I wanted to see if Jughead would be there for me in case things go south."

A look of understanding passes over FP's features and he smiles kindly at you when he notices your bit of nerves. "It'll go fine. If Jug and I didn't run, neither will these three little shits." You grin at him. "Now I should get going. Will your dad and I be seeing you later?"

"Depends on how well my little bombshell is taken."

"Alright." FP heads towards the kitchen, calling down the only hallway in his trailer. "Hey Jug, Y/N is here so put some clothes on before you come out."

FP smiles at you one last time before he exits his trailer and it's not until his bike's engine outside roars to life does Jughead exit his bedroom from the back. "What's going on?"

"It's time to tell the other baby snakes about my heritage."

He blinks. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." You nod, momentarily second guessing yourself. "Yeah," you then say more confidently. "I think the longer I wait now, the higher the chance of them being pissed at the fact that I kept something like this from them."

"Okay. Where are we doing this?"

"Quarry?" You wonder. "We need privacy, but not too private that they feel trapped should they not take the news well."

Jughead exhales quietly. "Quarry it is. My bike or your car?"

"Your bike. Text Toni and the guys. I just need to grab my bag from my car."

Jughead is pulling on his jacket as he gestures for you to join him by the door, then pulling on his infamous crown beanie before pulling out his phone to text the others. He heads to his bike while you head for your car, opening the passenger door and pulling out your messenger bag. Draping the bag strap over your head and across your chest, you close the door and lock up before pocketing the keys.

When you sidle up to Jughead, he hands you his only helmet and you readily pull it on before climbing on behind him. He's not normally a crazy driver, so you loosely wrap your arms around his waist and enjoy the short ride to the quarry.

You and Jughead are the first to arrive, walking towards a spot that seems to have frequent visitors. Seats torn out from vehicles and a few crates form a half circle around an unlit barrel just off to the side of the water, and Jughead wastes no time in lighting up the barrel since it's a little chilly out.

Placing your bag on one of the seats, you walk towards the fire and hold your hands over it to warm up. Then about five minutes later, the rest of your friends show up.

"What's going on?" Sweet Pea asks as his gaze darts between you and Jug. As he sees you warming up, he stops by your side and wraps an arm around your shoulders to offer some of his warmth. Toni and Fangs stand on the other side of the barrel, warming themselves up briefly before taking a seat.

"I, uh, I have something I need to tell you guys. It's going to sound incredibly insane, but I need you to trust me when I say I am no threat to you." Sweet Pea frowns down at you and he only takes a seat when you nudge him towards the others. Jughead grabs your bag and hands it to you, and you smile faintly in thanks. Then opening the flap, you remove your crown and let your bag fall before hesitantly putting the crown on. Clearing your throat, you say, "When you guys first saw me, I was wearing this."

Fangs grins. "We thought you were just another spoiled little daddy's girl."

You grin back. "I mean I am," you shrug, "but the crown actually means something."

"Are you trying to tell us you're royalty or something?" Toni chuckles. At your neutral expression, her smile falters. "Y/N?"

You inhale shakily, glancing at Jughead who gives you an encouraging nod. "Whenever people meet my dad, I'm well aware that they think his given name is rather unfortunate." Sweet Pea snorts, grinning. A couple older Serpents at the Wyrm made it no secret when making fun of your dad's name. "But what if I told you that my dad really is the Lucifer Morningstar?" Your serious, yet nervous, expression makes the other three go still. "That I'm literally the daughter of the devil?"

The only sounds you can hear are the chirping crickets and crackling fire until, "You really buying this, man?" Sweet Pea scoffs. You briefly glance at him to see he's staring at Jughead who's still by your side.

Jughead nods, his arms crossed over his chest. "I am. My dad knew something was up with Lucifer before they outright told us the truth. He's known for years, but Lucifer wasn't a threat to him then or now so he didn't make a fuss about it."

Sweet Pea frowns. He doesn't look scared or pissed, but he doesn't look impressed either. "Why are you telling us this now?"

"That first night, my dad let FP and Jughead in on our secret because he saw how I trusted Jug and wasn't planning to leave Riverdale anytime soon. We trusted the Jones' and they now trust us. The circle of people in the know was meant to stay as small as possible, but then you three," you pause, huffing and smiling sadly as you meet each of their gazes, "wormed your way under my skin and I knew I couldn't keep a secret this big from you anymore."

"So your dad really is the devil?" Fangs asks. His gaze is set on the flames just barely dancing over the rim of the barrel, an expression on his face you can't quite decipher.

Sighing, you let your left hand wave back and forth over the flames. "My dad really is Lucifer Morningstar." You hold your hand still then, the flames engulfing your hand. Someone gasps, but you don't look up until you say, "And I'm the Queen of Hell."

"Oh fuck."

Fangs immediately shoots up, stumbling behind his seat. Sweet Pea's expression has completely shut down and Toni stares with wide eyes. Without having to look in a mirror, you already know your eyes have gone pure white and the picture you paint with the crown atop your head can look quite daunting.

"I'm still me- the same girl you've been hanging out with for a while now." You swallow down the hurt you feel at their speechlessness. "But.. I will understand if this is too much. All I ask is that this little revelation doesn't leave the circle." Still your friends say nothing and fight against the burn behind your eyes. "I'm sorry."

As quickly as you can, you bend over to pick up your bag. Shouldering the strap, you turn to walk away when Jughead calls out. "Y/N.."

"It's fine," you say and cast him a small smile. "I'll pick up my car later. I'm going home."

"Let me give you a ride home at least."

You shake your head. "I'll manage." And with that, you turn and walk away, letting a swirl of flames whisk you away.

Maybe you should have waited, dropping hints here and there to ease them in. But as you appear in your room, you drop onto your bed and let the sadness swallow you whole. What's done is done. All you can do is hope for the best now.

#riverdale imagine #riverdale gen fic x reader #riverdale #jughead jones #fp jones #lucifer morningstar #sweet pea #toni topaz #fangs fogarty #riverdale x reader

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myhauntedsalem · 3 years ago

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Howard Street Cemetery and Salem Jail Salem, Massachusetts

Salem has a long history of darkness. Since it was among the earliest communities of European settlers in the United States, the ethics and morals of its leaders were not always terribly democratic.

Quakers were beaten in the streets of Salem and good people were hung as “witches” after being wrongly accused by young children in the Salem Witch Trials. Salem was a petri dish in which new American’s learned some important “life lessons” that helped shape many of our countries beliefs about right and wrong. Little things like one’s right to defend oneself in a court of law that is separate and distinct from the church and freedom of religion became more salient as important pieces to the American Dream following the drama of the Salem Witch Trials.

The Salem Jail was built in 1813. It has been abandoned since 1991 and is currently slated to be restored into townhouses or condos. The Salem Jail and Howard Street Cemetery is considered to be one of the most haunted places in Salem, Massachusetts. There are 100 prison cells and prisoners were executed here. Indeed, the famous execution of Giles Corey took place here.

Giles Corey and his wife Martha were accused of witchcraft. The laws in Salem at that time were pretty twisted at the time. People accused of witchcraft were pretty much screwed no matter what their plea. But if they didn’t enter a plea of guilty or not guilty, they would, at least be able to pass along an inheritance to their children. A plea meant that the city could take away a person’s belongings and distribute them among the city’s leaders. In this case, Sheriff George Corwin was the main benefactor when it was time to go gather up the belongings of community members accused of witchcraft.

Giles Corey was laid on a pile of rocks in the field that has become known as Howard Cemetery. Two boards were placed on top of him and then, large, heavy stones were placed on the boards one by one. Giles was slowly crushed to death by Sheriff George Corwin who was ultimately in charge of the execution.

Giles Corey, according to local lore, kept uttering, “more weight”. But in his dying breath he is recorded to have said, “Damn you Sheriff. I curse you and Salem!”

Local Salem historian and former High Sheriff of Essex County Robert Ellis Cahill discovered some time ago that the curse of Giles Corey may have some authenticity in events of late. Cahill has noted that each and every Sheriff down from George Corwin to himself, each headquartered at the Salem Jail overlooking the place where Corey was killed, has died while in office or has been forced out of his post as the result of a heart or blood ailment. George Corwin himself died in 1696, 4 years after Corey’s execution, of a heart attack. Cahill recently suffered a heart attack himself but thankfully was only forced into an early retirement whereupon he started looking more closely at the strange stories about Salem’s past.

#Howard Street Cemetery and Salem Jail #ghost and hauntings #paranormal #ghost and spirits #haunted locations #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem #salem massachusetts #haunted cemetery

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one-shot-plus-size · 3 years ago

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I’m sorry

Imagine: Daryl says something that hurts the feelings of a woman who knows how to survive in the apocalypse. They split up to meet again at the least expected time.

“You know damn well, Rick, it's not smart to let her stay here," Daryl growled at Rick.

“Why? “ The sheriff propped himself up on the side.

“Did you see her ? “Daryl pointed at the woman sitting on the bench.

Rick looked toward the bench. Sitting on her table was a girl somewhere around his size 14 maybe 16, her blue hair falling over her face as she leaned over her sketchbook.

“She's going to eat us with her shoes and we're running low on supplies," Daryl looked at her.

The men had no idea that the woman could hear them, that she was hiding her face behind her hair staring at the sketchbook as tears streamed down her cheeks. She was self-conscious about how she looked and how people looked at her when she stood for food. She never took more than she was entitled to, and she often gave the food to Daryl's dog anyway. Olivia rose from the bench, closed her sketchbook and headed for her cell. She knew she had to leave so the others could live.

“ I'm not throwing her out, Daryl," Rick looked at the younger man, "She's good at patrols and running, she finds things you wouldn't pay attention to, and she has a powerful knowledge of things that save lives in this world. She created the water system here, she knew how to grow vegetables and how to take care of everything. She is a treasure not a woman.

“ You will mark my words again," he growled and walked away.

Rick took a breath and shook his head, he wasn't going to give up on anyone. Not even the woman who gave half her food to an animal. Olivia sat on her bed and looked at the place, for the first time in a long time she was safe and didn't have to worry about danger. But if people didn't want her because she was fat then she had to leave. She knew that people often rejected her because of her weight. She waited until everyone had gone to bed and packed her things in her backpack. She left her sketchbook of drawings and food supplies on the bed. Once she was sure no one was in the way she headed to the part of the prison where she knew the wall was collapsed and she would be able to escape without anyone noticing. Here after sunrise Glenn walked outside with his backpack over his shoulder, walked to the car, threw it in the back seat.

“ Are you going out for supplies ? “ Rick walked up to him.

“ Mhm “ Glenn nodded with a yawn “ I'm waiting for Olivia, which is unlike her. “

Rick stares at the younger man for a moment.

“ Fuck “ he starts running towards the prison.

Glenn crinkles his eyebrows and moves after him not quite sure what's going on. Rick rushed into her cell but stopped as soon as he entered. On her bunk sat Daryl staring at her sketchbook.

“ What have you done? “ Rick growled.

Daryl didn't take his eyes off the piece of paper, he ran his thumb over the writing. The sketch depicted him sitting with his back against a tree, working on his crossbow. It rendered his facial features so well, the way he bit his lower lip while focusing on his crossbow. He took a breath, in her sketchbook were drawn all of their group. Their mutual group, he tore his gaze away from the piece of paper and looked at Rick.

“I didn't see her, I didn't say anything to her," his voice was breaking at the end, "I didn't throw her out.”

“What is this all about ? “Glenn furrowed his brows “ where are her things ?”

“I really didn't see her, I didn't talk to her after our conversation"- Daryl rose from the bed.

“And one she's not here “- Rick looked around the room -” if she ran away during the night, she could be a long way from here. “

Glen stared at the table that stood in the corner.

“She left everything she had, food, water and her sketchbook” - Glen said quietly “everything that was important. “

“We need to search the area, the rest of the prison. Maybe she's still here “- Daryl ripped a piece of paper out of the sketchbook and slipped it into the inside pocket of his vest. “ I'll ride my motorcycle through the neighborhood, find her, and bring her back home.”

Daryl pushed past Rick and started for his motorcycle, this was his fucking fault. He shouldn't have said it all, not when there was a chance he could be heard. He should never decide who should stay and who should go. He was wrong about her and he knew it now. He searched for her for the next week but it didn't do much, he couldn't even find a trace of her.

Four years later.

Daryl sat naked in the cell Negan had locked him in three days earlier. He was shaking with fatigue and hunger, he squinted as the door opened and a bright light came into the room. He shuddered when someone stood in the doorway, the person threw some clothes at him.

- Get dressed quickly - said a woman's voice.

- Leave me alone - he growled.

- Jesus, as usual. Get dressed Dixon or I will lose patience but you want to get out of here but rot here. Or worse, Negan will kill you. So don't get on my nerves Daryl.

Daryl furrowed his brow, he knew that voice but didn't quite know who to attribute it to. He picked himself up and dressed in the clothes thrown to him. The woman looked around the hallway, she knew that if anyone spotted her here now she would probably be killed but she had to free him. She had no other choice, even though he had treated her horribly a few years ago.

- Hurry the hell up - she held out her hand to him.

Daryl finished dressing and looked at the hand extended to him. Finally grabbing it, the woman pulled him along. It wasn't until he stepped out into the hallway that he saw the woman's appearance. Her blue hair was short and styled into a stubby Iroquois. Her body looked different now, thinner than the last time he had seen her. She pulled him along until she pushed him into the room, closing the door behind her.

- We have a few minutes - she walked over to the refrigerator.

She pulled out several cans and handed them to him.

- Eat - she walked over to the window.

- Olivia, why are you doing this? - Daryl muttered shoving food into his mouth.

- 'You're going back to your family, you can't stop in Alexandria, they'll be looking for you there. - She looked out the window.

- I'm sorry - he breathed putting the can down.

- It doesn't matter anymore - she shook her head and turned to him - I have the keys to your motorcycle and some of your things that I managed to get.

Olivia pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket that looked tattered.

- I found this by accident, then I knew the mysterious hostage was you.

She walked over to him and handed him the note. Daryl unfolded it and saw the sketch, the one he had torn from her sketchbook. He raised his head and looked at her.

- Why are you doing this?

- You have to help each other, over these few years I've come to understand why you wanted to remove me from the group. And I'm not angry with you - she smiled slightly - we have to move, now is the best time.

Daryl nodded and motioned for her to follow him outside. Olivia handed him the keys and showed him his motorcycle.

- Go back to your family - she looked around.

- Come with me - Daryl sat down on the motorcycle.

- No - she shook her head, - I don't belong there anymore.

- Not true - he shook his head - I was wrong, I was wrong years ago. There is a place for you there, it's your family too.

- Go - Olivia kissed him on the head and went back inside the building. She knew she was probably going to die, but it was important that Daryl was free. So that the love of her life could move on, she headed to her room. She waited for Negan to arrive, waited for death to come.

#daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl&olivia #TWD #The Walking Dead

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milazka · 5 years ago

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𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝐢 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝).

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟏.𝟑𝐤

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : —

𝐚/𝐧 : 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐣𝐣 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞! 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐣𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮...

─── ° • ❀ ───

Sitting on the roof of the van, you were watching JJ and John B entering the coast guard’s office. With all the people shouting at one another, you knew that they would not have a big success, but you said nothing; they were both stubborn and they wouldn’t listen to you anyway. While you were out on the marsh about an hour ago, Pope found a boat wreck after you all hit a sand bar with the HMS pogue. It’s was a Grady White, the one that you saw when you went surfing the surge with John B. After discussing it together, you all decided that the best idea was to report the wreck to the coast guard.

Pope and Kie were sitting in the back of the van, probably talking about some boring scientific things as usual.

“Hey dirty pogues.” An annoying voice said to you from the ground.

“Oh please, not her again.” You sighed, rolling your eyes.

As soon as you took off your sunglasses and looked down, you met the devil’s eyes. Jessica Taylor Henson. A kook, of course, but also your number one enemy since the day you met her at a kegger party that you and your friends had organized.

“What can I do for you, witch?” You said to her with a disgust face on.

“Could you give this back to your brother?” She asked with an innocent voice, handing you a black shirt with a devil smile on her face.

It was your brother’s shirt, the one that you bought him for his birthday. Your eyes slowly turned black and you clenched your fists.

“Oh he did not...” You whispered, looking deep into her eyes.

“Oh yes he did, honey. And it was a good fuck.” She responded, defying your gaze.

As soon as you heard her last words, you jumped of the roof, landing just in front of her. Your fist hit her right in the nose, causing her to lose her balance.

“You bitch!” She yelled, blood starting to come out of her nose.

“Oh sorry, did I ruin your rhinoplasty?” You responded sarcastically.

Her fist hit you directly on the top of your eye, just missing it from a few inches. You felt a couple drops of blood slide along your face. A smile of vengeance crept over your lips. You pushed her hard as she threw another punch at you, this time on the chin, making your lower lip split.

“You know, I loved screaming his name while he was fucking me against your kitchen table.” She provoked you.

“I’m gonna kill you bitch!” You angrily yelled at her.

“Y/N! Stop it!” You heard Pope’s voice behind you, feeling his hand your shoulder.

“Don't get involved in this! It's between her and me.” You shouted at him, making him take a step back.

You punched her in the stomach before throwing you fist at her face again. She pushed you with all her strength, making your back hit hard with the front of the van. You were about to jump on her and beat her plastic face up when to large hands laid on your shoulders.

“Y/n Y/l/n, you are under arrest.” Said the voice behind you.

Deputy Shoupe.

“Fuck.” You whispered inaudibly.

He made you bent on the front of his car, passing the handcuffs on your wrists. Your head smashed on the hot metal, you saw JJ and John B coming out of the office, an expression of confusion took place on their faces as soon as they saw you.

“I’ll see you later, boys.” You said to them before entering the bac of the police car with the help of the Deputy.

─── ° • ❀ ───

“Y/n, what did I told you the last time that you ended up here?” Sheriff Peterkin said, a disappointing look on her face.

“It wasn’t my fault! She provoked me first!” You defended yourself.

“You punched her first, everyone saw it.” She calmly responded.

You didn’t try to defend yourself, knowing very well that it wouldn’t work. As JJ always say, kooks will always win.

“I'm going to have to put you in a cell until your brother arrives and pays your deposit.” She said, helping you stand up from the interrogation chair.

You sigh; your brother was going kill you. Sheriff Peterkin accompanied you to a small cell containing a small bed and a sink. She removed your handcuffs and closed the door, locking it with her key.

“I’ll see you in a bit, kid.” She said, leaving you in total silence.

You rubbed your wrists; red marks were visible where your handcuffs were not so long ago. You sat on the uncomfortable bed, goose bumps on your skin due to the humidity. You were only wearing black jeans short and a long sleeves shirt that probably belonged to JJ. The idea of him made you warm; you kind of liked him more than a friend and you two were always flirting, but nothing more had ever happened between you.

After what seemed like hours, you finally heard the sound of a door opening. Fearful, you backed into your cell and took a deep breath. As you would expect to see the angry face of your older brother, your legal guardian since the death of your mother, you were surprised to see a blond head appear on the other side of the grid.

“JJ?” You whined while a smile appeared on your injured lips

“Hey babe, how are you holding up?” He asked, a little smirk on his lips.

“I’m fine, it hurts, but it’s not my first time getting in a fight you know.” You answered, clenching your face as you tried not to let your pain show through. “How did you get in?” You added, surprised that he was not accompanied by a guardian.

“Sheriff Peterkin let me in, she said that I could see you for five minutes.” He said, passing his hand through the bars to grab yours.

You smiled at him; your eyes full of water.

“Hey, don’t cry babe, I’m here.” He whispered, squeezing your hand tightly.

You couldn't hold back any longer. Through the bars, you grabbed his face with both hands and approached him to the gate. You crushed your sore lips against his. At first, he seemed surprised and tense, but quickly, his lips synchronized with yours. He kissed you with passion. His tongue slid against your lower lip, requesting access to your mouth. His hands, which he had passed through the bars, firmly grip your lower back. One slipped on your butt, making you moan against his lips. You felt the smile on them when you tried to take him closer, but the bars wouldn’t let you do it. Out of breath, you’ve separated from each other.

“That was...” You started, but you were cut off by JJ’s voice.

“Hot”. He finished, still holding your hand. “You should get arrested more often, it kind of make you horny.” He added, making fun of you.

“Fuck you.” You answered, slapping his face gently with your other hand.

“Wow, you’re not even out of prison and yet you’re starting a fight.” He smirked at you.

“Maybe I just like it rough, you know.” You whispered to his ears, teasing him.

“I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me once you’re out, baby girl.” He said, teasing you back. “I’ll see you later.”

He blew you kiss with his hand and slowly licked his bottom lips while winking at you.

“You’re a tease, Maybank.” You grunted, your two hands clinging to the gate as he walked away from you with his stupid damn smirk that you couldn’t resist.

part two

milamaybank’s masterlist

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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 3 months ago

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Warrant - Uncle Tom's Cabin

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elizaisthetruehero · 3 years ago

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Singing Like a Bird 'Bout It Now Chapter 1

So, I started writing another Eureka fic. Even though I have a WIP that isn't finished yet. What's probably going to happen is I'll get stuck on one and then switch to working on the other to beat procrastination. That's the plan anyway.

But here's the AO3 Link, that I posted there last night, and forgot to put here and on FF.Net. I'm doing FF.net because Eureka is an older fandom, and I think there's a couple people there who never made the switch.

Summary: Jo rushes into the Sheriff's station after 1947, and is greeted by a Zane who does not remember proposing to her that morning. But they're definitely still together. It just seems that Jo can't figure out what they hell they are, and why he's still going on dates with other women.

Zane doesn't understand why Jo's suddenly done an about face, but if it gets her to stop acting like nothing's going on between them, he can work with that. He just wishes he knew why she looked so sad when she looked at him.

Chapter 1

Jo strode into the Sheriff’s station, heart hammering against her bruised ribs, terrified of what she would find. The statue had changed. God, she hoped that was the only thing they’d changed. It would be a ridiculous change they would have made, back in 1947, but one Jo would have no problem living with.

There Zane was, sitting in her cell like he’d been that morning, casual and cool, like she hadn’t ripped his heart out and thrown it in his face. Hope bubbled up in her chest, and Jo could feel it showing in her smile. Maybe they’d be okay. She could feel the weight of the ring still in her pocket. They could still have their happy ending, walking into Café Diem, congratulations from all their friends, phone calls from their parents. Everything would be okay.

“Zane. I can't believe you're still here.”

He didn’t even look up at her, just kept thumbing through his magazine, “Where else would I be?”

“I thought after the way that I reacted,” she broke off sighing, not sure what to say about what she did that morning, or how to fix it. She’d never been good with words. “I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I was just thinking too much. You know, I... I do that sometimes and...”

He cut her off, disinterest in his tone, “Lupo, what the hell are you trying to say?”

“I'm trying to say, ‘Yes.’”

“Yes? Yes, you’ll what, stop hogging the covers? Seriously Jo, what’s gotten into you?” he asked as he threw down his magazine.

“What we, this morning, you,” she cut herself off, dread filling her stomach like a weight. She looked around the room and saw that while Zane was in the cell, it was empty. None of the trappings or reminders of how they met that had been there when she'd first walked in that morning, before 1947. No framed poster, no bedding on the cot, no damn Panini press, no, no Liza’s box. And… Oh.

The cell door. It was locked, likely with the key that was on her belt loop. Why the hell was Zane in a locked cell?

“This morning you kicked me out of your bed at 3 am when I asked you to stop hogging the covers. And then this afternoon you threw me in jail.” Her bed. She’d kicked him out of her bed. Not their bed anymore. They didn’t live together?

Jo sat down at her desk, no able to look Zane in the eye while she tried to process everything that had happened. "Yeah, well, you shouldn’t bother me when I’m trying to sleep. You should be smarter than that," she said, forcing a smirk to her face, slipping into the familiar biting banter she and Zane had when they were fighting. Had she and Zane never gotten serious? He certainly wasn't looking at her the same way he had that morning.

“Look, Dungeon Master, when am I getting out of here?”

She played with her hands, picking the dirt out from under her nails, “I don’t know, what’d you do?”

“Nothing, you just like throwing me in jail,” she fixed her least impressed look in his direction, careful not to look in his eyes, but just above his head. If she did that, she might do something irrational and ill-befitting of a Deputy of Eureka. Like start beating prisoners. “So I unlocked a few cages, those monkeys deserved some freedom. Look, could you just let me out? I’ve got a date."

What? "Really? A date? With who?"

"Yeah, I'm meeting the blonde chick with the Ph.D. in Reproductive Biology. We're going to play doctorate," he smirked, without any of the soft and nervous affection he'd had that morning. Just the sarcastic bravado he’d had when he’d bought her lingerie to get under her skin. Did he even remember doing that anymore?

"Seriously?"

"Come on, Lupo, don't start acting like you care what I get up to or who with. We both know what's going on here, and what we’re not." No, I don’t know what we are, or why you’re sleeping with me but going out with other women. Why the hell wouldn’t I care about that!

She rushed to his cell door to unlock it, desperate to get him away from her, “Go. Get out.”

“You gonna taze me in the ass again?” and there was that grin, charming and handsome, that had caught her eye two years ago. Obsession with firearms can be a sign of an unfulfilled sexual appetite. I'm not saying that's you. But if it is, I'm at your service.She’d had to be talked out of shooting him back then. Now she wanted to shoot him, whatever blonde chick he was meeting up with, and maybe herself.

"Just get out," she snapped at him, blinking back tears that she couldn’t let fall. He walked out the door, facing her, clearly puzzled, his eyebrows drawn together in a way that she normally found cute, but right now, made her want to punch something. Anything would do.

The door shut behind Zane with a click, and Jo leaned against the cell bars, took a breath, and winced. She’d managed to clean up the blood on her face while Henry and Fargo were repairing the phones, but her ribs still needed to be taped, and the scrapes on her hands and head needed to be cleaned. She should still have an almost full tub of GD-grade bruise gel at home. Hopefully, it was still there.

Jo unlocked her door and stepped into her house, shutting the door behind her before leaning against it, letting her breath rush out of her. She took moment to close her eyes and just breathe after the chaos of the day that wasn’t even over yet. But she knew her peace couldn't last. She would have to go through her house to try to put together the pieces of the picture that made up her life, and figure out where everything went wrong.

Well, she had her minute. Time to face the music. She pushed off of the door, opened her eyes, and headed to the kitchen. She glanced around, her fingers trailing along the cool counter, taking it in. Didn’t look any different than it had when she had left that morning. Except…

She peered into the dishwasher and sighed in disappointment. Gone were Zane's plates with dried-on eggs, or his TARDIS-shaped mug, and she didn't think that was because he'd washed them already. They were probably at his old apartment, the one he'd barely spent any time at after they got together. Oh, they hadn't officially moved in together until after he'd gotten home from the Arctic, but that had been a formality, almost. Like he'd thought his question that morning had been. So let’s make it official. He’d really wanted to marry her. Spend the rest of his life with her, like she was the obvious choice.

Jo shook her head. She couldn’t think about that, the proposal that had never happened. She didn’t know how to fix the timeline, so she had to deal with this Zane in the meantime, if not forever. She really hoped she didn’t have this smarmy asshole forever.

She moved onto the living room. It looked like it had before Zane moved in, same décor, same pictures, and the same piano along the wall. The books on the shelves and her coffee table were just her books here, no physics journals or sci-fi novels or comic books. Just the thrillers and murder mysteries she liked to read on the rare occasion she had the opportunity. And, she checked the ottoman with the small storage space, some romance novels with shirtless men on the cover that she did notpull out in public. Zane had teased her the first time he’d seen her reading one, but she’d come home early one day and saw him on the couch, curled up with the blanket his mom had sent as a housewarming present, reading one. He insisted he was just being a good boyfriend, taking interest in her interests. And then he cracked a joke about the cowboy on the cover and positions. She’d been mad at him, but he made up for it.

She moved over to the stairs, heading up. At the very least, she would have to get changed and clean up, get 1947 off of her as quickly as possible. Hope that when she got out of the shower and back to town, Henry would have figured out a way to fix this.

Jo opened the door to her bedroom and stripped off her costume, heading straight for the en-suite bathroom. She showered quickly and efficiently, noting that, like most of the house, Zane's belongings were not there. She got out, wrapped the towel around herself, and headed to the sink to check the scrape on her temple. She applied GD's liquid band-aid to the cut, ignoring the sting, and went to put it away in the cabinet when she stopped, heart in her throat.

A used men's razor. She lifted it off the counter delicately, noting the short dark hairs caught between the blades. Zane's. Jo took stock of the rest of the vanity and felt a glimmer of hope that she hadn't felt since Zane spoke, back in the station.

Two toothbrushes in the holder. A can of his shaving cream. His aftershave, cap off because he could never remember to put the lid back on. She checked the shower again, and saw the bar of soap in the corner of the caddy, the kind that she never used, but, had clearly been used by someone.

Okay. Zane didn’t have any of his stuff downstairs, but he was over often enough that he had some space on her bathroom counter. Though not over enough for them to be exclusive. She really hoped she didn’t have to see him on his date. Her self-control was good, but not that good, she thought as she taped up her ribs and smoothed gel over her bruises. Those needed to fade, and quickly. The last thing she needed was someone asking what happened to her arms.

After giving the gel a minute to dry down, Jo walked back into her bedroom and got dressed, jerking open her drawers to see what was in each one. Her underwear, tank tops, T-Shirts and sweats all still in drawers. She yanked the last one open, wondering if it was empty if it was still being used for her sweaters, or…

Zane's clothes. Not all of them, his wardrobe probably had more than just a pair of jeans, two pairs of boxers, a couple of V-necks and, a crumpled-up plaid shirt. But he kept clothes here. Not enough to be living here, which the bottom floor had told her. But clean clothes for those rushed mornings when he wouldn't have time to run home before heading to work. He'd probably shown up to GD too many times wearing yesterday's clothes, thick stubble on his face.

Who had suggested it? Had she cleared it out and offered it to him? Had he brought them over in a backpack or duffle, slipping them into the drawer with a nervous grin? Were they the result of lazy weekends spent in her bed, ignoring the world outside?

She pulled her jeans on before picking up her dirty clothes and bringing them over to her hamper, and right on top of her clothes, was a pair of his boxers. Just more evidence that Zane was part of her life, but she didn’t know how she fit into his. If she went over to his apartment, would she find similar signs of her presence? Travel-size versions of her shampoo and conditioner, a change or two of clothes, maybe part of a spare uniform? Would her robe be there, or, no, she caught herself. He was fucking other women. If she got cold over there, she’d borrow one of his hoodies and a pair of his sweats.

And that was if she even went over to his place. She really needed to stop dawdling and get back to town so she could talk to Carter and Henry, see what was going on, and if they could fix this. And if they couldn’t, well, she’d been a Special Forces operative and was now a Deputy in Eureka. She could adapt. Maybe she could get Zane to adapt with her. Maybe, she thought as she slipped the ring onto a chain and placed it around her neck, not willing to be without it in case Henry found a way to fix this, maybe he’d even try to put this ring on her finger again. But that wasn’t happening tonight. Because she froze.

#eureka fic #eureka #jo lupo #zane donovan #a town called eureka

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whumpeeblog · 4 years ago

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TW CHILD SLAVERY MENTION OF TORTURE MENTION OF DEATH PAIN WHUMP

“Don’t you touch her.”

S scrambled through the castle halls, K sprinting behind her.

“Come here you little wretch!” He grumbled as he gained on her. Nearly tripping, S rounded the corner into the throne room, where D stood, talking to a neighboring ambassador. In frantic panic, the girl ran to her master.

D’s blue eyes widened as he watched his prisoner throwing herself towards him. Shock struck him when K came trailing behind her.

S ducked behind D, squatting in a fetal position behind his tall legs, afraid to look towards the disaster she knew was on its way.

K slowed to a walk, his sword drawn.

“Come here, girl. I swear when I get my hands on you, your little body will burn with pain.”

D spoke up in order to protect his captive.

“Don’t you touch her.”

D’s deep command stopped K. However, hatred darkened in his eyes as he glared at the figure hiding behind his cousin and friend. He took a step closer, the thump of his boot causing the marred child to flinch in fear.

“K. Don’t. You. Dare. Touch. Her.” D repeated. “Now tell me what’s going on and maybe we can sort this out.” The ambassador beside him watched the scene unfold, the amusement on his face revealing his attempt not to laugh.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and D was accustomed to bringing K’s temper down while protecting S.

“She stole several items from me and it’s time the little thief learn to pay. In Galway, thieves lose their hands at best and their lives at worst,” K snarled.

“Put the sword away and I’ll deal with this.”

K placed the blade back in its sheath, yet the child still cowered in fear. She may have escaped K’s wrath, but now she needed to face the decision of her master.

“S,” Damian stated confidently. S scurried around to face Master D, as she called him, dropping to her knees and lowering her head. She knew she would be punished, but a small bit of relief crashed through her, acknowledging that D was usually much more merciful than K and wouldn’t torture her like K would. If K had caught her, he would have skinned her alive, literally. He’d done it to many others, and knew how to keep them alive as long as possible. He was the executioner, after all. He, as well as D, N, and almost every other prominent being in the small kingdom, knew how to push a victim to the brink of death, putting them in the most agonizing pain possible, yet keeping their heart beating.

“Look at me,” D commanded. S’s gaze reluctantly met his eyes, and she trembled. She searched his face for mercy; for any chance that he might not let K torture her.

She knew the rules. If a slave, prisoner, or other commoner was caught stealing from a lord, prince, or other high placed official, the king had the right to do whatever he pleased. This usually included severe torture and beheading. If a commoner was stolen from, they could take that person prisoner or slave, and do what they wished. If they were feeling generous, they could send the criminal to a local sheriff, and they would be given a “kind” death: hanging.

A chilly waterfall of horror flushed through S’s body as she searched her master’s eyes.

“Are these accusations true?” D asked sternly, concern and dominance hinted in his eyes. The girl’s face lowered as she nodded softly. She lifted her gaze, but was unable to read Damian’s face. “And may I ask as to what you stole and why you did?”

“I- it was just some food and a few weathered blankets, Master.”

“And why did you take these things when I provide you with what you need? Are you planning an escape attempt perhaps?” D interrogated the girl. Just as it wasn’t the first time she had stolen, he wouldn’t be surprised if she were plotting to run... again. She had been tormented mercilessly for many of her attempts, although there were several times he had allowed her to get away with it. S trembled and her eyes pleaded desperately for Damian to believe her.

“No, Master! I swear it wasn’t an escape attempt, Sir! Please! I was just hungry and cold...”

D questioned the child further, but he was already aware exactly why she had done it.

“If you were hungry or cold, you could have come to me or N and we would have provided you with warmth and a meal. You know this, so why didn’t you ask?” D raised an eyebrow and lifted his hand to his chin, almost as if he were deeply pondering the situation.

“I- I was afraid to ask, Master. I feared that if I became too much of a burden to you, you would take my head.” Her eyes lowered to stare at the cold, golden floor she kneeled upon. She trembled even more, one of the first signs of the panic attack she could feel rising into her heart. A tear slipped, and landed on the ground like the first raindrop of a terrifying storm.

“So you thought that by stealing from my executioner, you could get away with it. You didn’t think he would notice. After all, the less you eat, the smaller of a burden you are to me, correct?” D questioned. S nodded, still afraid to meet his eyes. “And even if you were caught, you hoped I would put you out of your misery quickly, rather than make you suffer as K here would.” D pitied the slave. She was just a teenager, and a traumatized one at that. He recognized the need to correct her habit, however.

“Let me have her, D,” K cut in. S glared at him, a cocktail of hatred and horror drowning her tears. D put up a hand to stop K as he lunged forward, fangs bared.

“Now,” D shifted his eyes to the girl between him and K, “It seems we have a problem, don’t we?”

“Yes, Master D.”

“Leave us,” D glanced at K and his ambassador. K growled resentfully, but walked toward the door. The ambassador followed, understanding that the meeting would be over for the next few hours.

It was now between the prisoner and her captor. She knew what she deserved, and she grimaced as visions of her possible punishments overcame her.

“Please have mercy, Master,” she pleaded tearfully, whimpering with tiny gasps. Thirty seconds of silence went by as D stared at S, deep in thought.

“Why were you so afraid to ask?”

S spoke up nasally, still trying to hide her sobs.

“If- if I eat too much you’ll kill me.”

D knew better. She was the spitting image of his deceased sister, and his last plan was to execute the child. Of course, if it came to the point where his only option were the sword, he’d do it, but not for a little nourishment. He still tortured her as needed. She wasn’t his sister after all. He often needed to be reminded that she was a slave, a prisoner of war and ally of the enemy.

D didn’t respond to S’s statement, proving in her mind that her fears would soon come to life. He decided that instead of severely punishing her as he had done many times before, he’d use a harmless fear tactic.

“On your feet.” His sunken tone struck fear and earned a flinch from S. She did as was told, and rose, staring up into his icy glare. “Against the wall.” Once again, S responded submissively, walking to face the wall. D sauntered to his throne, prolonging the process in order to teach a lesson of obedience. He reached for a strand of rope which hung on the wall behind the throne, part of a daunting collection of restraints and weapons.

S’s body jolted as she was forcefully shoved into the gold plated wall. Her arms were yanked behind her back. Her wrists over crossed each other, palms out. The rope brushed against soft skin, leaving a burning trail of red rash as it slithered its way around her wrists.

Fingers sliding over S’s shoulder, D turned her body and guided her forward.

Oh God he’s gonna kill me... no. worse. He’s gonna torture me.

Hyperventilation shook S’s frail body, but instead dragging her to one of the torture chambers, D pushed her towards the opposite side of the throne room. The door on that side led to a stone spiral staircase. These stairs went up to a winding maze of hallways with different suites belonging to each individual royal in the small kingdom. Each suite was like an apartment, and contained its own prison cells for the men’s prisoners. Few ever left the private dungeons. To the surprise of the child, however, D didn’t chain her to a wall in his dungeon. He didn’t beat her to a pulp with the agonizing cracks of a nine stranded whip. A harsh necklace of rope wasn't strung around her neck, nor her tendons cut to allow her to choke to death.

Instead he led her in the opposite direction and down the stairs to the section of the castle that was used as a public hangout. The lower floor was set up with a kitchen, living space, dining hall, music and entertainment room, and had a porch leading outside.

D unsheathed a knife. S only knew this thanks to the familiar metallic scrape of the object leaving its home. A shudder wracked through her, and she expected the worst. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she braced herself, but the pain never came. Instead, D’s knife sliced its way through the rope, and the broken bonds fluttered to the floor.

D walked towards the couch, and picked up a heavy wool blanket. He draped it around his terrified slave. Her body shuddered when the scratchy warm fabric danced on her skin, the only touch she was used to being some form of excruciating torture.

“Sit,” D pointed towards the couch. S timidly waddled over. She was still skeptical that he would hurt her, but D was often merciful to her too. There was no real way of knowing whether he would hurt her or not. When he did, she knew he tried to be lenient, and he only punished her when he felt he had to. Now was one of the times that he may have to, she thought.

Frightened eyes examined every detail of her master making his way about the kitchen at the other side of the room. D heated something in a pot on the stove, occasionally glancing over to assure that his prisoner hadn’t made another escape attempt. The figure huddled in the corner of the couch, afraid to move or make a sound. Even under the shadows of the blanket wrapped over her head and body, dark circles of sleep deprivation made themselves visible.

D walked over to the girl, carrying with him a tray of soup, bread, and water. He set it on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Eat,” he instructed. S didn’t budge. D stared with concern. He cared about her, even if she was his slave. He genuinely didn’t want to hurt her, but she had been his enemy, and a prisoner. Either she was afraid that he poisoned the food, or she was trying to kill herself with starvation.

S cowered away when a steamy spoon of tomato broth met her lips.

“Open.” She did as told, but tears began to fall as she took the liquid in. Whimpers and shivering came with each spoonful.

After several spoonfuls, D seemed to have convinced the child that he hadn’t poisoned her meal. He slowly slid his way up the couch to sit behind her. Drowsiness conquered S’s frail body and she began sleep softly, laying her head across her master’s lap. D combed her brown hair with his fingers, not daring to move. The sedative had finally set in, and he didn’t need to change that.

#whump prompts #emotional whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump trope #whumper #slave #prisoner

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kelyon · 4 years ago

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Golden Rings 16: A Confession

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

In which Rumple leaves the jail, but is not free

Read on AO3

He waits in the darkness. In this prison, his magic is useless and there is nothing to do but wait. Has he been here for weeks or for months? When his wife fretted over his future, did she worry about him being so bored?

His cell is at the end of a long tunnel. The only torches are at the mouth of the corridor, where the guards are stationed. His captors are quiet tonight, but sometimes he hears them talking to each other. They tell tales of him, warning each other against his power, his evil, his devious tricks. They speak as though they are in danger just by being in his presence.

They are not wrong.

If he wanted to, he could kill them with his bare hands. He wouldn’t need magic or a weapon. His own strength and viciousness would be enough to rip through their armor and tear out their throats with his teeth.

It is fortunate for the guards that he has no intention of harming them, or of escaping. He is exactly where he wants to be. This cell is insulated from magic, it is both a prison and a fortress. If there is any place in this world where the effects of the Queen’s curse might be mitigated, even a little, it is here. In this black hell, that faint spark of hope shines like the sun.

Movement.

At the end of the tunnel, lights grow brighter. Another torch has been added to their number. Footsteps echo in the stone cave. Alerted, he sits up. He pounces away from the wall. He crouches on the dank ground like an animal, claws raised, teeth bared.

“Come closer, dearie.” His words are sweet as treacle, but he laces them with poison. “How kind of you to visit me in my loneliness!”

There is a gasp at the end of the hallway, half-stifled. The visitor is afraid, but is trying not to show it. The footsteps hurry forward, soft and quick. The torchlight grows brighter as it comes closer.

It is a hooded figure, he cannot see its face. The body is small, and the cloak is patterned with green and yellow leaves.

He knows that cloak. He made it himself.

He cannot get his hopes up. He is imprisoned in the stronghold of his enemies. No illusion is beyond the grasp of the Evil Queen or the Blue Fairy. Either one of them could be trying to deceive him. Trying to exploit his weakness for their own gain.

Or madness could be taking over his mind. His own hope could be twisting around on itself, creating a vision of what he wants. The one thing he wants to see more than anything else in the world.

“Come closer, I said!” His voice is rough with disuse, with emotion. In this pit of despair, he does not dare hope. He doesn’t want to believe that it could be…

“You cannot order me about, Rumpelstiltskin. Not anymore.” The voice is clear and beautiful, like clean water in the middle of a drought. The light stops moving when it fills his vision. The figure sets a torch in a sconce. Finally, he can see her. Her face. Her furrowed brow, her shaky smile. “You must at least say please.”

“Please,” he breathes.

It is a short fall, to go from crouching to kneeling, but being near Belle again requires nothing less. He must get on his knees to her--his wife, his love, his dearest wish.

Trembling, he reaches through the pointed bars of his cell. Without hesitation, her hand clutches around his. She is on her knees as well. Her flesh is warm and soft.

“You’re real.” This is no trick. He knows it as surely as he knows anything. “You’re alive.”

She bites her lip as she looks at him. He must be filthy, haggard, even more hideous than usual. But she is not repulsed. Only full of pity.

“What have they done to you?” she whispers.

“Nothing I didn’t deserve.” He cannot think of his own troubles, not while she is in front of him. “How did you come to be here, my darling?”

“The guard tonight is a dwarf called Sleepy.” She puts on a brave face, tries to make a joke. “He lives up to his name.”

He cannot tear his eyes from her. “And you have made yourself at home in this castle?”

She nods. “Our plan worked. The Prince ‘rescued’ me. And the side of goodness proclaimed me as one of their own.”

“You are,” he sighs. He has never seen a sight more beautiful than the woman who loves him. “You are goodness, my love. The royals should count themselves lucky that they get to be on your side, let alone that you want to be on theirs.”

Her hand clenches around his. “I’m on your side,” she promises. “We are working together, even when we are apart.”

“Yes.” He holds her hand in both of his and brings it to his lips. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“And I miss you.”

She reaches into his cage. She grasps at his clothes, pulling him closer. Their mouths meet between the iron bars. Her kiss is honey and sunshine and the breath of life. It is meat and blood and peace. He cannot get enough of her. He will never have enough of her. Not until they are truly together, when all the curses are broken and they can live the rest of their lives without fear.

They break apart at the same time, both of them gasping for breath.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers. “If they find you with me, they will lock you up as well. They will think you are evil. They will try to purify you with scourges and flaying.”

“I know,” she agrees. “But I couldn’t stay away. If only I could be with you always. I would stay with you, even in this terrible place.”

“I know.” He rests his forehead against hers. They breathe together, an act of unity just as important as a kiss.

After a moment, he steps back. There is space between their bodies now, though their hands still touch against the bars. He rubs his thumb over the smooth gold of her wedding ring.

“How are they, up in the outside world?”

“Everyone is panicking over Regina’s curse. They’re trying to stop it, but they don’t know how.”

“If only they had the most powerful user of dark magic in the world trapped somewhere nearby with nothing to do but offer advice to anyone who asks.”

Belle’s pink lips quirk into a half-grin. “Perhaps they need a reminder of that fact.”

“And how is Snow White bearing her firstborn?”

“I haven’t spoken to her much. But I’ve heard that she is often brought low with melancholy. The Prince insists that there is a way to fight the curse, but she is losing hope.”

“Is she desperate?”

“She will be.”

“Good.”

The Dark One trades in desperation. Much of his power comes from fear--not only the fear that people have of him, but of the things they fear so much that they are willing to pay him whatever he asks for.

“The child,” he whispers. “Have they given it a name yet?”

Belle shakes her head. “In this land a prince or princess is not named until after it is born. There is a grand ceremony when the name is spoken for the first time and proclaimed to the whole kingdom.”

“We won’t have time for that,” he snarls. “The curse is coming! The name of the Savior has power. I must know what it is!”

“You will.” She soothes him. She presses her palm against his own. Their scars match up, at the place where they mingled their blood on their wedding day. “I believe in you. We will find a way.”

His breathing slows as her nearness cools his rage. “Together,” he agrees.

His wife looks over her shoulder. “They will change the guard soon.” She bites her lip. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back.”

“You shouldn’t come back.” He forces the words out. “You shouldn’t be here now.”

“Well you can take me over your knee when we see each other again.”

He snorts his surprise and amusement. She is too good, too perfect.

She looks over her shoulder again. “Before I go,” she says, “I have something to ask of you.”

“Anything, my love. Though I have little to give as I am now.”

“It is something from your mind. Something to occupy your thoughts until we meet again.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to think of a name for our baby.”

His eyes widen. He blinks, several times.

“Something you want to tell me, sweetheart?”

She smiles. “No, my love. Only that there is a future for us. Snow White is not the only person who can have an important child. We will be together again. And when we are, we will be a family. All of us.”

He nods. Already his mind is racing with every name he can think of. Names have power. The name of Belle’s child must be perfect. Meaningful. The enormity of the task is enough to fell him. What a brilliant woman his wife is! What a wonderful gift she has given him!

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for reminding me that all of this is temporary.”

Her face breaks, but she keeps herself from weeping. “I love you so much, Rumple.”

She presses in to kiss him again. It lasts for an eternity. It is over too soon.

Before she leaves, she offers him one last assurance: “I will see you again.”

****

Rumpelstiltskin spent the better part of a day in the jail cell of the Storybrooke sheriff station. Apparently Sheriff Swan was the only officer with the authority to release detainees, and her presence was required outside the station until later in the afternoon.

She sent her heartfelt regrets.

He didn’t mind much. The Dark One had learned long ago that there was power in appearing to be at the mercy of his enemies. Captivity in particular had its advantages. No distractions, for one thing. There was nothing he could do now except think, and plan.

Another advantage was that people would have to come to him. Someone had taken the cup that had belonged to Belle. Someone knew what that cup was, and what it meant to him. Someone had tried to draw him out. And someone would be thinking that their scheme had worked.

So someone would be stopping by to gloat.

There was no doubt that the culprit knew what had happened by now. Even if Mrs. Gold’s drunken outburst hadn’t drawn a crowd, news spread fast in a small town. Enough people had heard her shout at him in Granny’s. And enough people had seen Emma helping Mrs. Gold walk to the station. And by mid-morning enough people had noticed him in the holding cell.

For a few hours, Rumpelstiltskin entertained himself by imagining how wild and salacious the rumors could get. Any fool would know that Gold and his wife had participated in a public shouting match, but what else could they think of? That he had used violence? That Mrs. Gold had fought back using her high heeled shoes as a weapon? That her father had rushed in to defend her and Gold had beaten him bloody with his cane? Gold’s reputation was as the most feared man in Storybrooke. Nothing was too outrageous to believe.

That reputation had saved Rumpelstiltskin a lot of trouble in his dealings with the people of Storybrooke. Even now, at the piddling mercy of uniformed police officers, a glare and a sneer were enough to keep them away from him. Every one of them paid rent to him, or owed him something, and they were all keenly aware of it. He was in a cage, but they were the ones who were terrified.

So they made themselves scarce. The station was practically empty by the time Emma waltzed in with a bag from Granny’s. Walking along the central office area, she pulled wrapped sandwiches out of the paper bag and set them on all the desks. Presumably, she knew her workers well enough to know what each would want for lunch. And she cared enough to get it for them, an act that would certainly endear herself to her subordinates.

Emma pulled out the last sandwich from the bag and held it out as she walked over to the cell. “I figured you for a pastrami guy.”

Rumpelstiltskin let himself reach out and take the food. He held the oil-soaked paper bundle in both hands and didn’t open it. “Corned beef, actually.”

“I’ll remember that for next time you’re in here.” It was a joke, but it was also a threat. Emma leaned against one of the desks in front of the cell, facing him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I believe you mean the first time I actually commit a crime,” he countered. Getting her to put him in jail had been nothing but a bit of theater, a convenient way to keep Mrs. Gold from the same fate. They both knew he wasn’t being charged.

“The next time I catch you trying to get a drunk woman to go home with you against her will.”

“Ah, well.” He shrugged, playing his part. “Given Mrs. Gold’s impulse control, I can’t make many promises on that topic.”

“If you’re trying to convince me that any part of this is her fault, that is not going to happen.”

He let her have that one without further argument. Emma Swan was smarter than most people in this town. She had the rare gift of First Sight--the ability to see things as they really were, and not how everyone knew they were supposed to be. Outside Storybrooke, it had probably been an advantageous skill. But here, in a place where reality itself was subject to the most powerful curse ever made, she was wrong even when she was right.

Nothing Mrs. Gold’s life was her fault, that was true. But it wasn’t Rumpelstiltskin’s fault either. Gold had preyed upon a young woman. Regina had cursed them all. Emma was the only one who could fix everything, but not in the way she thought. Not in any way even someone as smart as her could imagine.

He held up the sandwich. “Thanks for picking up lunch,” he said. “Do my tax dollars include dessert?”

Emma stood up straight, arms swinging with deliberate casualness. “You sit tight, Gold. I’ve gotta go find some paperwork before I can release you.”

She went out into the hallway, and Rumpelstiltskin knew he was in for at least another two hours of incarceration.

It didn’t matter. Emma thought she was punishing Gold, but really she was keeping Rumpelstiltskin free for a little while longer.

He didn’t want to face Mrs. Gold. Interacting with her was torturous under regular circumstances. After last night--and the night before that, and the day in between--living with her would be nearly impossible.

It had finally broken apart. The facade of a marriage that he had spent five months hiding behind had cracked and shattered. She had heard him call out to Belle. She accused him of infidelity. Even Mrs. Gold’s unwavering obedience to her husband had finally bent under the strain of Rumpelstiltskin’s neglect.

Part of him was relieved. It was one thing to wear a mask in front of his enemies, but it was something altogether different to constantly deflect the attentions of a woman who only ever wanted to please him. She lived in his house, she was with him all the time. Until last night, they had slept in the same bed. It had worn on him, to have Belle’s body so near, so willing--and have to reject her again and again. Perhaps now Mrs. Gold would get it into her head to reject him.

Would she leave him?

Long ago in their cursed life, Mrs. Gold had burned bridges with everyone she had known before her marriage. She had no support structure, no money of her own. Her job skills would be enough to get her part-time work at minimum wage--if anyone wanted to hire her. The woman’s reputation around town would scare away most respectable employers. Without Gold, she would have to go begging back to her already impoverished family. Or she could try to ingratiate herself with some other wealthy man in Storybrooke. Gold had often insulted his wife by calling her a whore, but what other option had he given her?

If nothing else, Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t let Mrs. Gold make any more reckless decisions with Belle’s body. Though the illusion of the marriage had dissolved, he would have to maintain control over Mrs. Gold somehow.

Probably through money, or comfort. At her core, Mrs. Gold was a practical woman. She knew that her relationship with Gold was a simple deal. If Rumpelstiltskin altered the deal, perhaps she wouldn’t make a fuss.

An image from the night before floated through Rumpelstiltskin’s memory: Mrs. Gold, drunk and heartbroken, fighting against Emma in her need to lash out at him. “You’re supposed to love me, you bastard!”

Where had she gotten that idea? Gold had never allowed his wife to entertain notions of love between them. How could the way Rumpelstiltskin had been treating her possibly lead her to that conclusion? Mrs. Gold had said she loved him, when he had been dreaming of Belle. Had she been dreaming as well?

Had Mrs. Gold been dreaming of her husband? Or had Belle been dreaming of Rumpelstiltskin? What was happening to the curse?

Emma came back with a manila file folder in her hand. She strode purposefully through the station, perfectly comfortable wielding her authority. She was truly the combination of her parents--a born princess and a seasoned war leader. She was the Savior, the curse-breaker. All he had to do was hold on until she started saving everyone.

There was a clear line of sight between the Sheriff’s office and the holding cell. Rumpelstiltskin watched as Emma put the folder she had just brought in at the bottom of a stack of similar files. He took that to be all the paperwork she would have to get through before she would deign to release him.

****

After twenty minutes of industrious silence, the sound of running feet broke through the hallway outside. To Rumpelstiltskin’s ear, the running sounded happy, excited, young. A child with boundless energy, finally free to burst toward something they want.

Following the running was the methodical click of high heeled shoes. For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin thought that Mrs. Gold had come to the station. But no, these footsteps were more authoritative, businesslike.

He wasn’t surprised at all to see Henry Mills come bounding in to the station and make a beeline for Emma’s office. And of course Regina would be slinking right behind him.

“Sheriff Swan, I’m going to permit you half an hour with my son.” Regina announced this piddling allowance of time like it was a gift. “Take him out for ice cream.”

Rumpelstiltskin watched Emma’s eyes flit from Regina, to Henry, to the empty station, to himself, and then back to Regina. “You’re expecting me to leave you alone with a prisoner?”

Regina lifted her chin and looked straight ahead at the cell. “Twenty-nine minutes.”

This time, Emma’s look went only from Henry to Rumpelstiltskin. “Are you okay with this?”

He shrugged. “Bring me back a cone?”

Emma nodded to him, then spoke to Regina. “We will be right back.”

“Yes, you’ll have to be,” the Queen said smoothly. She stood still as Emma and Henry bustled around her, jabbering excitedly as they left. It really was remarkable how much both mother and son lit up when they were together.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t move. He stayed seated on the cell bench and let Regina come to him. She perched on the arm of the sofa in front of the holding cell. She had a large, black leather purse slung over one shoulder.

“Madame Mayor,” he said in tones low with menace. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“Mr. Gold, I think we might be able to help each other.”

The audacity of this woman. Under any other circumstance, she would have nothing to offer him. And yet…

“When two people each have something the other wants, a deal can always be struck.”

She gave him a tight smile. “I hoped you’d see it that way.”

“But do you have something I want?”

Instead of answering, Regina crossed her legs and pushed back the blazer of her smart business suit. “You know, all day I’ve been hearing the most terrible rumors about you and Mrs. Gold. I do hope everything is alright between you two.”

“My wife,” he said slowly, “has not been herself lately.”

“Or is it you who haven’t been yourself, Mr. Gold?”

He looked at her, impassive. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“I’m sure you do.” The Queen took her purse off her shoulder and set it on her knees.

Rumpelstiltskin tried not to stare at the bag. He looked instead at Regina’s face. “Why are you here?”

“Like I said, to help you. And to receive some help in return.”

“What do you have to offer me, dearie?”

“Not much,” she smirked. Without looking down, Regina reached into her purse and pulled it out. The chipped cup. “Just a… sentimental little keepsake.”

It took all of Rumpelstiltskin’s resolve not to leap to his feet and demand the cup. He wanted to break these steel bars and rip the cup from Regina’s hands--and rip her hands from her arms if she wouldn’t surrender it. That was Belle’s cup. This witch had no right to touch it!

Instead, he stayed still. All his energy, all his rage, focused on the cup. He focused on Regina, who dangled it by the handle.

“How?” he rasped. How had she known about the cup? How had he let his cover slip? How had she broken into Gold’s house?

“Flimsy locks,” she quipped. Then the Queen turned more serious. “I have power in this world, more power than you know.”

“But not enough,” he hissed. “You will never have enough power to beat me.”

She shook her head. A faint chuckle entered her voice. “I already have. I know what your weakness is.”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed and made himself shrug. “It’s just a cup.”

“But you want it,” Regina purred. “And you’ll give me what I want in order to get it back.”

“What is it that you want, dearie?”

“I want you to answer one question. And answer it simply.” She squared her shoulders before she asked: “What is your name?”

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t hesitate. “It’s Mr. Gold.”

The Queen glowered at him. “Your real name.”

“Every moment I’ve spent in this world, that has been my name.”

Regina leaned forward, closer to the bars. “What about moments spent elsewhere?”

He locked his eyes on hers. “What are you asking me?”

“I think you know.” Clearly her patience was running thin. “Tell me your name.”

And with a sly grin, he confessed: “Rumpelstiltskin.”

The deal done, he took the cup from Regina’s unresisting hands and cradled it in his own. He looked it over, making sure there was only one chip. Belle’s cup. Their cup. It was safe.

When he looked at Regina, she was fairly glowing with triumph.

“What gave me away?”

“Belle did,” Regina said smugly. “I��ve been watching Mr. and Mrs. Gold for, well, a very long time now. I could see that something was wrong with her. But you seemed perfectly normal. Suspiciously normal.”

His own caution--his own commitment to playing the role of Gold--that was what had exposed him. Still holding the cup in both hands, Rumpelstiltskin sat back against the wall. “So,” he said, “as long as we’re being honest with each other, let’s remember how things used to be.”

“We used to work together,” Regina said, incorrectly. “You used to help me without so much… hostility.”

“That was before you ever came after what was mine, Your Majesty.” He shook his head and tutted. “You really should be more careful about who you make your enemy.”

“You mean my victim,” she sneered.

“And how much longer do you think that will last? Haven’t you noticed the curse getting weaker?”

“But I am just as strong as ever!” The Queen rose to her feet. She looked down on him with regal disdain. “You’re the one who’s letting your biggest weakness galavant all over town!”

Clutching the bars of the cell, Rumpelstiltskin pulled himself up to stand “For your sake, I hope that isn’t a threat.”

“Of course not.” Regina closed her purse and began to leave. “I’ve barely spoken to Mrs. Gold. I’m certainly not the one who brought her so much pain she got drunk in public and started crying in the street.”

With a satisfied smirk, Regina turned on her heel and left.

****

Darkness had fallen by the time Emma officially let him out. Winter nights came early in Maine. If the sheriff noticed the teacup in his hands, she didn’t mention it.

His first thought was to walk back to Granny’s where he had parked Gold’s car the night before. But then he remembered that he had given the keys to Mrs. Gold so she could take herself home. So he would have to walk to the house.

He only hoped that she would still be there when he arrived.

The house was dark and the door was unlocked. Gold’s heavy ring of keys hung in plain sight on the first hook by the door. Rumpelstiltskin took the keys and put them in his pocket. Flimsy locks, Regina had said. She had broken into his house and stolen one of the things he valued most in the world--and he hadn’t noticed until it was too late. The cup could have been missing for days before he went into Gold’s study and saw that it wasn’t where he’d left it.

Would she attack his home again? Should he arrange to put double bolts on all the doors? Or was she just trying to toy with him? This was a world the Queen had made. It shouldn’t surprise him that she had her own ways to take anything she wanted from anyone.

Noise came from one of the inner rooms. It took Rumpelstiltskin a moment to recognize the sound of the television in the living room. Gold had never cared much for the “idiot box,” so it had been an easy device for Rumpelstiltskin to ignore.

He went toward the noise, turning on lights as he went through the house. In the living room off the kitchen, the only light came from the flashing bluish glare of the television. Mrs. Gold was sitting on the couch, curled in on herself under a blanket. She was staring vacantly at the screen, letting the sounds and images wash over her.

Was it just the blue light, or was she paler than normal? The shadows of this dark room brought out the hollows in her cheeks and under her eyes. He could see the sheen of tear tracks on her skin. Unwashed hair hung limply around her face. Her lower lip was dark and swollen from where she had been biting it.

For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin didn’t move or speak. Mrs. Gold hadn’t noticed his arrival. Briefly, he wondered if she was drunk again. If she was trying to deaden the pain of her existence by deadening every other sense. But no, there were no bottles anywhere nearby. Mrs. Gold’s pain by itself was enough to deaden her senses.

He turned on a lamp and let a soft golden glow invade the harsh blue. Mrs. Gold jumped out of her daze. Unlike other times when Rumpelstiltskin had surprised Mrs. Gold, she didn’t hop to attention like a trained animal. She didn’t stand up and present her body for his approval, she didn’t kneel before him like a slave. Instead, Mrs. Gold sank back into the corner of the couch. She wrapped the blanket tightly around herself. Her eyes were wide as she looked at him in silence.

She was afraid.

When she had looked at him like this before, Mrs. Gold had been afraid of what she knew was coming. She knew how cruel her husband was, what the consequences were of displeasing him. But now it seemed she was afraid of the unknown. She had said it herself: All that matters is that I don’t know who you are. Whether she knew it or not, Mrs. Gold was afraid of Rumpelstiltskin.

“Hi,” he said softly. He tried not to alarm her any further.

“Hi,” she answered, still staring at him. She didn’t let her guard down. She muted the television and turned to face him.

“I… I didn’t know if you would still be here.”

Mrs. Gold shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” She broke their eye contact and looked down. “I didn’t know if yo u would let me come back if I left.”

Rumpelstiltskin clenched his fist around his cane. Was her uncertainty a reflection of Gold, or of himself? Gold had done so much to hurt his wife, but Rumpelstiltskin was the one who had hurt her most recently. He was the one who had made her like this.

“Mrs. Gold,” he said. “Please, I know things are… confusing right now. But please know that this is always your home, and I will always provide for you.”

“Why?” The word was a whisper in a silent house, but it carried all the weight of the world. “You’re not fucking me. You don’t even like me. Why do you bother with me?”

The chipped cup was still in his hand. He set it down on an end table and moved to sit in one of the high-backed chairs across from the couch. Rumpelstiltskin leaned forward, his arms on his knees as he spoke to Mrs. Gold.

“Because I have a duty to you,” he answered. “I have a responsibility to care for you.”

She snorted and shook her head.

“To take care of you,” Rumpelstiltskin amended. “I owe you that much, Mrs. Gold. It is the absolute least I can do.”

“How nice of you.” Her voice shook with bitterness. “How super fucking charitable! How long will that last, do you think? How long until you get tired of doing the least you can do?”

Mrs. Gold’s hands twisted in the blanket. Her face screwed up into the picture of unspoken agony. She let her hair hang over her face and took a few ragged, sobbing breaths.

He wanted to go to her. He wanted to comfort her. Belle or not, she was a woman in pain and he knew that he could soothe her. That was the least he could do.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

He stayed in the chair, shoulders slumped, and waited for her to calm herself.

“Mrs. Gold,” he tried, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be the man you married.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Is that it?” On the couch, Mrs. Gold was shaking. “Are we… Is it over? Us? Our marriage?”

“No,” Rumpelstiltskin spoke before he could think. “No, I want you with me, dear. I don’t… I don’t want us to be separated.”

“But you don’t want us to be together.” She wiped her cheek with the palm of her hand. “Not like we were before.”

“I know it’s complicated,” he said. “I wish I could tell you more. Truly I do. But right now let’s just say that I have enemies and you are better off under my protection. All I’m asking is for you to trust me.”

She let out a shaking breath that could have been a laugh or a sob. “Does Belle trust you?”

It was a strange thing to hear Mrs. Gold say. Belle’s voice, saying her own name with so much suspicion and loathing.

“Yes,” he answered. “Belle trusts me with her life, though I’m not always worthy of it.”

For a long time, Mrs. Gold didn’t say anything. She shook her head, rocking slightly on the couch as tears streamed silently down her face.

And Rumpelstiltskin sat there. Doing nothing.

When Mrs. Gold was able to speak, she asked him: “Why aren’t you with her now?”

“With Belle?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I mean, you’re still a man who can get whatever he wants. If she’s so important to you, why aren’t the two of you together?”

Rumpelstiltskin sighed, trying to think of something plausible to say. “We want to be,” he started. “But, well, Belle is very far away from me right now.”

“What, does she live in fucking Australia or something? Or is she married too?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said in a tone he knew would make Mrs. Gold drop the topic. “What matters is that I have a responsibility to you, and I’m not going to shirk that just because I’m in love with someone else.”

Mrs. Gold winced, but then it turned into a grim smile. “Never thought I’d hear you say that you loved anyone, Mr. Gold. That’s why I never took it personally that you didn’t love me.” Abruptly, she stood up. “I’ll move my clothes over to the guest bedroom.”

“You can have the master--”

“No,” she cut him off. She seemed to have run out of emotions, and was now running on brutal practicality. “You need the bathroom in the master suite because of your leg. I won’t have as hard a time with the tub in the hall bathroom.”

“That’s… very thoughtful of you.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think.” She sighed and turned off the muted television. Now her half of the room was in darkness. “Believe it or not, this isn’t the worst deal you could have offered me.”

“What deal?” Rumpelstiltskin asked. He had been trying to be honest with her. He wasn’t aware that they had been negotiating.

“A loveless marriage for a life of comfort.” She kept herself busy by folding her blanket and putting it away in a cedar chest. She didn’t look at him. “It is mostly the same as what we had before.”

Rumpelstiltskin stared at her as she walked out of the living room.

“Good night, Mr. Gold,” she said formally. “I’m glad you found your teacup.”

By the time he gathered himself enough to speak, she was already upstairs. A door slammed, and Rumpelstiltskin hung his head.

So this was the future he was going to have with his wife.

#golden rings #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle angst

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walkerwords · 4 years ago

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“The Bowman’s Sister” Part 3 of 4 - Daryl & Sister!Reader

GIF CREDIT: AMC

PART I PART II PART IV

Word Count: 3030

Daryl Dixon & Sister!Reader (Rick x Reader in future)

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “World Gone Mad” by Bastille

Note: I didn’t put a summary on this one cause it’s def a filler chapter. I don’t remember who exactly gets bit during the flu pandemic thing in the cell blocks so I made it pretty vague. All i really wanted to do here was touch on the friendship that is growing with Rick and (Y/N). The next chapter will have some violence etc since one eyed wonder makes a reappearance.

-------

You jogged down the stairs of the watchtower, passing Tyreese on the way as he headed for his shift.

You had finally convinced Carl to get some sleep after you kept finding him hiding away in the tower in the middle of the night. He agreed to let you keep watch as long as you taught him to use a bow. You felt that was a fair trade so you had agreed.

You and the younger Grimes had bonded pretty quickly. He reminded you of how Daryl was as a kid. Always running around getting into trouble and making sure everyone was okay. You could tell he was developing a hard exterior but still had that childlike innocence when holding his baby sister or tending to anyone who was hurt. He had a lot of his dad in him and you figured the rest was his late mother and those who were helping to raise him.

You decided early on that Carl Grimes would be someone you’d lay your life on the line for and not just because he was a kid. But because he was one of the only good ones left in the world.

Walking back towards the cell block, you ran into Rick. He was coming out of D when he spotted you. He gave you a quick wave as you made your way over to him. “Another late night?” he asked, fatigue weighing on him clear as day. Since the run that you, Daryl, Glenn, and Rick had gone on, you had noticed that he was distancing himself a bit more here and there. When you asked Daryl about Rick’s odd behavior at times, he just shrugged and told you that sometimes the new world screws with people. You decided not to push it further.

“Just tryin’ to earn my keep,” you said to Rick, stretching out your shoulders. Rick nodded, looking past you towards the main yard.

“You’ve been staying out late a lot lately,” he said. “Sleep is actually a good thing, you know?” he joked. You chuckled slightly.

“Yeah, but if sleep won’t come, no point in tryin’ to force it when I can take over for someone who actually needs it,” you pointed out.

“Like my kid?”

“He’s not invincible even if he thinks he is,” you said, tilting your head up to look at the night sky.

“Thanks,” he said. You look back to him. “He doesn’t listen to me much anymore, so it’s good you can get him to get some shut-eye.” You shrugged off his thanks.

“Boys his age are always rebellin’,” you said, “I doubt that’s gonna change in the Apocalypse.” Rick laughed, running a hand through his messy curls. The two of you started to walk. You didn’t have a particular destination in mind, but you didn’t care. It was nice to just be outside, safe, and having a conversation. You talked about everything from what the two of you did before the Turn to why he decided to use a prison as their new home.

“It wasn’t easy,” Rick said, “We slept in the main field the first night. Cleared it of Walkers and then dealt with the rest of it the next day.”

“You know what? I’m surprised more people didn’t think to head to a prison in the first place. Or at least an abandoned one,” You said. “Hey, I bet Alcatraz is a hit right now.” Rick laughed at your joke, smiling wide.

“It is on an island,” he pointed out.

“Exactly. Do you think Walkers can swim?”

“Oh god, I hope not,” Rick said, eyes wide in mock horror. “That’s the last thing we need.” You laugh, trying not to imagine Michael Phelps going full 2000 Olympics while gnashing his jaw.

“Where did that word even come from? Walker?” you asked, remembering how weird it was to hear that first night in the cell block.

“I heard it shortly after I woke up in the hospital,” Rick explained, “A man, Morgan, he saved my life and that’s what he called it when he shot it in the street.”

“Hospital?” you asked, confused.

“Yeah, I was shot before this all happened,” he said, gesturing around. “I was in a coma and didn’t wake up. My partner tried to get me out, but he had to go save Lori and Carl, make sure they were safe. He thought I died, you know?”

“I would have thought the same thing,” you said, “you’re a lucky son of a bitch. Must have been terrifying waking up to all of this.”

“It was...disorienting. I thought I was in Hell. Then when Morgan explained to me what was going on, I couldn’t believe it. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes…” he trailed off. “But then I met Glenn in Atlanta and he brought me back to my family.”

“Crazy how sometimes you just meet the right people at the right time, isn’t it?” you said, looking at him in the dark. He looked at you and smiled softly.

“Yeah, it is,” he was quiet for a moment before he noticed the ring that was still on your finger. You twisted it around with your thumb absently. “You know, if you ever want to talk about him, I’m here,” he said, gesturing to the ring.

“Thanks,” you said. “It’s funny, I haven’t actually spoken about him since he died. Nobody to talk to and I know that’s why Daryl worries about me. He doesn’t get why I don’t want to talk about them, but I just don’t know what to say. It’s not like I can change anythin’.”

“No, but maybe the more people who know about them, can help keep their memory alive,” Rick offered. You thought about it for a moment before nodding, more to yourself than him.

“Thanks, Rick,” you said. He reached over and squeezed your shoulder briefly. “And that goes for you too,” you finished. He let out a breath and nodded as well, already understanding what you were offering. “You know, being out here, it reminds me of when Merle was locked up the first time,” you said, changing the subject.

“The first time?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, my big brother was the biggest pain in the ass. Especially when it came to the county sheriff,” you laughed. “The first time, he and Daryl were being idiots as usual. I was at school, I think, and the boys decided to race motorcycles down by the tracks. Merle’s moronic friends were tryin’ to get Daryl to steal a bike nearby. I think it belonged to some kid that was a few years older than Merle. Daryl, of course, wanted to do it so he seemed cool in front of Merle’s asshole ‘friends’, but big brother said no and that he would be the one to do it.” You smiled as you thought about the day you got the call from Daryl who was concerned about the whole thing. “Turns out the owner was actually home and the bike was a lot more expensive than everyone first thought.”

“And let me guess,” Rick interjected, “Merle broke the bike.”

“Along with three bones and a bunch of other property damage and that was before he even got back to the tracks,” you said with an exasperated sigh. “Dad was pissed and since Merle was eighteen, he got charged and booked. I took Daryl to go see him while he did his time. Never liked bein’ near jails. Pretty ironic I’m living in one now.” You laughed quietly to yourself, but then you realized Rick was quiet. You looked at him, trying to see his face in the dark. “What is it? Am I really not that funny?” you tried. Rick cracked a small smile before it disappeared again.

“No, that’s not it,” he said before taking a deep breath. “I guess it’s just weird hearing about your brothers when they were younger.” Rick rubbed the back of his neck before glancing at you. His face was solemn and something was clearly bothering him. “I’m sorry about Merle.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Rick. Daryl told me what the Governor did,” you told him, but he was shaking his head.

“No, not about...not about that. I’m sorry about leavin’ him in the first place,” he said, but you were confused.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“Daryl didn’t tell you about what happened in Atlanta?” you shrugged.

“He said y’all got separated after you ran into a large herd. Daryl said you went back for him, but you couldn’t find him. I’m surprised you even did that, from what Carol and Glenn said, Merle was very...Merle while stayin’ with ya.” Rick nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground.

“It was my fault,” he said softly, the toe of his boot digging into the gravel.

“What was?” you asked, your voice low as well. Rick finally looked up at you and that weight was even heavier in his eyes. “Rick, what happened?”

“Merle was out of control,” he explained, “he was shootin’ Walkers on the rooftop, the shots bringing more and more towards the building we were in and he was just runnin’ his mouth. Kept mouthin’ off to another guy we were with, using slurs and whatnot.” You sighed at the information. You knew Merle could be a complete asshole, especially if he was using, and based on what Rick was saying, that was definitely the case. “He got into a fight,” Rick continued, “he was gonna get us killed so I handcuffed him to the roof, to one of the pipes. When we went back to get him before we left, one of the men, T-Dog, he dropped the key and…”

“You had to leave him,” you finished. Rick nodded, his hand coming up to rub at his brow.

“We went back for him, I swear,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours, “but he was gone when we got back up to the roof. He had cut his own arm off to get out of the cuffs. He made his way out of the city and we didn’t see him again until Woodbury. I’m sorry, (Y/N), if I hadn’t of cuffed him to that roof, he may have been alive right now.”

“Or he would have pissed someone else off and gotten himself shot or gotten too high and stumbled right into a Walker,” you told him. “I loved my brother, with everythin’ I had, but I wasn’t blind to his idiotic tendencies. Daryl either. We both knew how reckless and stupid Merle was. Hell, if I had been on that roof, I may have done the same thing. You were fightin’ to survive, you don’t have to apologize for that.” Rick stared at you in complete awe.

“How can you be so...okay with all of that?” he asked. You reached out and took his hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Because I know you didn’t intend to leave him to die. I can tell you that much. I’m rather good at readin’ people,” you said with a small smile.

“Because you’re a shrink?” he asked, his shoulders dropping a bit more.

“Because I pay attention and I know who’s good and who’s not and you Rick Grimes, are one of the good ones,” you said. “So, don’t apologize. At least not to me. You have to start thinkin’ about what’s next.”

“And what is next, (Y/N)?” he asked.

“I haven’t quite figured that out,” you said, letting go of his hand, “but when I do, I will make sure to tell ya. Deal?” He nodded.

“Sounds good to me, Dixon,” he said with a smile. You smiled back and before you said anything else, a scream echoed from the cell blocks. You and Rick looked at each other before taking off towards the block. Rick pulled his gun as he ran and you cursed yourself for only bringing your knife with you. You pulled it from your belt as your boots pounded against the ground.

You both reached the block just as a Walker stumbled out of a cell, it’s face covered in fresh blood. Two more followed, reaching for your friends as they fought them off. Stabbing the closest one in the head, Rick shot the others that reached for a scared woman.

It was chaos in the prison as people screamed and the Dead rose. The noise only agitated the others that pressed against the fences outside. In the dark, you split off from Rick, searching frantically for your brother. You didn’t know if he was on watch or if he had gone off on his own. You were just praying that when you found him, he would still be breathing.

You ran through the corridors, looking for Daryl. The gunshots from the block had finally calmed down, but you could feel the fear in the air. Your mind raced as you tried to think of ways that the Walkers could have gotten into the block. You and Michonne had just checked the tombs that morning, securing the entrances. Then there was the fact that the individual blocks were always locked just in case.

Gripping your knife, you ran back down the hallway and pushed through the metal door, exiting into the night air. Suddenly, something grabbed your arm and you raised your blade, ready to drive it home. “(Y/N)! Stop, it’s me!” your arm froze as you focused on Daryl. He was breathing heavily as he looked at you. You relaxed, pulling him into a hug. He hugged you back, squeezing you tight.

“You okay?” you asked as you stepped back, checking his exposed skin for bites.

“M’fine, you?”

“Yeah, just a bit out of breath,” you said. “What happened?”

“Looks like some kid got sick, died in his sleep. He turned and bit others.”

“Our own people were the Walkers?” you asked, sheathing your knife.

“Ya,” he said with a frown.

“Shit, that’s rough,” you said. Daryl nodded in agreement, before grabbing your arm. “What are you doin?” you asked as he dragged you toward the administration building. “Daryl?”

“How do ya feel? Ya feel sick?”

“No, I feel fine. Where are we goin’?”

“Whatever is goin’ on, I’m not lettin’ you get it,” he said as he pushed into the building. Carl was already there, holding his baby sister.

“So you’re taking me to an abandoned hallway?” you asked, confused.

“We need meds,” he said. “Till we get em’, yer stayin’ in here,” he said, finally letting you go.

“You’re puttin’ me in quarantine?” you asked, your brows going high.

“Damn right I am,” he said, handing you his spare gun. “Ya never had a good immune system to begin with. I ain’t takin’ any chances.”

“Daryl‒”

“Nah,” he interjected, “yer gonna listen to me for once, (Y/N). Don’t try to play big sister right now. Just do this one thing for me and stay here, alright?” You wanted to argue, but then he said something that made you shut up. “I can’t lose you like I lost Merle.” You sighed and nodded.

“Okay, Daryl,” you said, moving the loose strands of hair from his face. “I’ll stay with Carl,” you promised. “Just come back in one piece,” you said, already knowing he would be one of the first to volunteer to go look for the meds they needed. Daryl nodded and kissed your forehead. He then turned to Carl.

“Watch out for my sister, kid,” Daryl said. Carl nodded, standing up a bit straighter at Daryl’s words. He squeezed your arm once more before leaving the building and locking it behind him.

“Guess it’s just you and me, Grimes one and two,” you said, sliding down against the wall. You sat, letting your legs stretch out in front of you. Carl joined you a second later, carefully resting Judith in his lap.

“Shouldn’t it be Grimes two and three?” he asked.

“Nah, you two are definitely the top two Grimes in my book,” you said with a small smile. Carl smiled up at you before playing with his sister’s little hands. “Don’t worry about her,” you said, easily reading his expression, “she’s a lot stronger than she looks. She’s gonna be fine.”

“How do you know?” Carl asked, his voice a bit smaller than usual.

“Didn’t Daryl tell you?” you asked, gaining his attention, “I’m psychic,” you whispered. Carl rolled his eyes but laughed nonetheless.

“Maybe psycho, but not psychic,” Carl joked. You placed your hand on your chest in surprise.

“Wow, Grimes, never thought you’d be so cruel. I don’t know how our friendship can survive this.” Carl snorted at your words.

“Didn’t realize we were friends,” he said, still smiling.

“And I didn’t realize your daddy never taught you to be nice to people who teach you valuable skills,” you said, nudging his foot with yours.

“I’ll work on it,” he said just as Judith yawns.

“I agree with her,” you said, leaning back and closing your eyes. “Judith has the right idea.” You then felt Carl shift next to you, leaning into you and putting his head on your shoulder as Judith lay across both of your legs. You didn’t open your eyes as you sat with the Grimes children. Your lack of sleep lost the battle with your worries about Daryl and the sickness that had come to the prison and soon the three of you were sleeping peacefully.

At the end of the hallway, Rick peered in through the window and watched as you held onto his kids, protecting them and offering them security. He wasn’t the best at trusting people in this new world, but he liked you and liked your spirit. It was easy to be your friend and he loved how easily you and Carl bonded. He only hoped that you would be around for them and Daryl.

However, unbeknownst to him, things were going to get much worse and very soon and it wasn’t just a virus that crept up on the prison, but an enemy that lay in wait.

#the walking dead imagines #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #twd #twd imagine #daryl and sister!reader #reader insert #walking dead prison #walkerwords

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rachelbethhines · 4 years ago

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Tangled Salt Marathon - The Eye of Pincosta

So this is an episode that really didn’t need to exist, and I say that as a Styalan defender. The writers took a perfect opportunity have the characters actually learn and grown and bypass it all for a contrived performative fake out redemption.

Summary: The group arrive in the town of Pincosta, but Eugene is immediately thrown in jail for having previously stolen the town's largest diamond, the Eye of Pincosta. The sheriff declares Eugene to work in the deadly copper mines and soon the rest of the group are thrown in jail. Rapunzel negotiates with the sheriff, offering to find and retrieve the Eye of Pincosta in exchange for Eugene and the group's release. The sheriff agrees, but on the condition that Rapunzel returns in two days. Rapunzel confronts Eugene about the theft and reluctantly, Eugene reveals he previously worked together with Stalyan, forcing Rapunzel to seek out Stalyan and persuades her to help.

So Why Didn’t Eugene Just Stay Behind With the Caravan?

Like it doesn’t take all six of you to buy and carry food back to the caravan; which they don’t take into the town anyways. Especially when you have two horses you can use. So why bring Eugene along when you know he could be arrested?

Pointing Out the Flaw In Your Writing Doesn’t Make It Any Less of a Flaw

No seriously, why didn’t he stay with the caravan? You need someone to watch over your stuff anyways if your going to leave it behind and Eugene is the perfect candidate for that. And even if you did need everyone to stick together, which you don’t, then bring the camper with you and let Eugene ride inside of it unseen. It’s not like the towns roads are too small for it or anything and it’ll save you from having to carry your stuff.

If you have to turn your characters into sudden idiots for no discernible reason to make your plot happen then you haven’t a good plot. Start over and come up with something else. Like maybe have Eugene not realize that he is wanted here because it was so long ago or have the guards randomly check their caravan where he’s hiding out because Styalan’s back into town, or something. Anything so long as it doesn’t make the mains stupid.

You’re Literally The Princess of Powerful Kingdom; Use That!

Ok, from what background info we get here, Pincosta isn’t even a fully fledged kingdom. It’s a hamlet, which is smaller than even a village. We get no indication what ‘land’ it belongs to, but it shares a kingdom with the larger town of Zulberg, which is one of the running gags in the first half of the episode.

What all this means is that Rapunzel is still the most powerful person in the room. She’s the heir apparent to the throne of a prosperous kingdom that has ties with a large trading network with bunch of other power kingdoms. Locking up her boyfriend and the future prince consort of said kingdom can be perceived as an act of war.

The series is trying to lead into Rapunzel becoming queen, but that means she needs to take advantage of her position and perform queenly like tasks. Like negotiating international incidents like this one, and simply complying to the city’s laws as if she was some random traveler doesn’t cut it.

Oh, So Now You Care!

Rapunzel, where the fuck do you think that prison barge was heading to just two episodes back? The same prison barge that your friend Attila was being threatened with. The same prison barge that victims of Corona’s corrupt justice system, like say Varian, are threatened with on top of the inhumane conditions of those dungeon cells that you locked your two best friends in back in season one.

Do not tell me Rapunzel is some kind and caring person if she only gives a damn about unjust treatment when it only affects her or someone she already cares about.

This Is Stealing Agency Away From Eugene

Rapunzel is not the one responsible for Eugene’s mistakes. She can help to some degree, like using her political power to pull some strings, but she doesn’t need to be the one to make reparations for his actions; that’s on him.

Or rather it should be on him. This should be his episode. The one where he grows as a person as he makes up for past deeds. Because redemption isn’t just about never doing bad things again, it’s also about making amends for what you did wrong.

That’s where this series fails and why the whole ‘It’s Rapunzel’s Story’ mantra is hollow. For starters it’s not just Rapunzel’s story. The series isn’t structured to be that way because it’s based off of a movie with two protagonists. It’s Eugene’s story as well. It’s also Cassandra’s and Varian’s story because as the main antagonists they further the conflict.

But it also fails because Rapunzel is just thrown into other people’s stories instead of being given her own. Rapunzel never learns anything from this adventure. Stalyan does, and Stalyan is never seen again after this episode. Having Rapunzel teach other random people lessons is counterintuitive to what the series wants to be. If it’s meant to be a coming of age story where Rapunzel learns about the real world, then she can’t be automatically in the right every episode.

Well Ain’t That Convenient

So Stalyan is needed to find this diamond that she and Eugene stole in order to free Eugene. Yet it’s never stated how Rapunzel finds Stalyan, especially so quickly. Last we saw her she had just left Varados and that was months ago. She could have been anywhere by this time.

So why is she near the same town where she’d still be wanted for arrest at? Where’s a her dad, who was dying from poison when we last saw him? What has she been up to? How did Rapunzel even know she was here?

Like you need to establish crap like this, otherwise it’s just a major plot hole.

So Why Stalyan?

This episode could have gone to just about anybody. Eugene, Lance, Lady Caine, fucking Shorty... Like I’d even take Hookfoot over this. He’s at least there for more than two episodes.

So why Stalyan? Why does she get a focus episode when we’ll never see her again? How come she’s ‘redeemed’ but not any of the other criminals on the prison barge? Like the series wants to act as if Rapunzel is this really forgiving person who believes in second chances but only four villains out of twenty get redemptions. 4 out of 20! What makes Stalyan so special that she gets to be one of those few select four and not say Lady Caine, Dwayne, or Andrew and the Saporians?

This Should Have Been a Lance and Rapunzel Team Up Instead

Keep in mind when I say this episode could have focused on anybody, I do mean it. You get creative enough this initial setup could have featured any two characters you wanted interacting. Lance and Eugene, Eugene and Rapunzel, Eugene and Stalyan, Eugene and Cassandra, Lance and Cassandra or maybe even Caine and Rapunzel, and reveal how Eugene knew Caine back in the pilot episode. Like there’s a lot of possibilities here.

For my money though, this should have been a Lance and Rapunzel episode. Because we don’t get any Lance and Rapunzel episodes. We don't even get any Lance episodes after his introduction. All his development, what little there is, is shoved into the b-plot of other characters’ focus episodes. He also barely interacts with the series main character despite being her boyfriend’s BFF and living with her on the road for year. That’s ridiculous.

All you needed to do was make Lance Eugene’s partner and have Lance make up for his past deeds to try and free his friends. Boom!

Why Didn’t You Bring Anything With You Raps?

We see at the end that the caravan was parked outside of town this whole time. She still has the key to get out any money that she needed, the pick of two horses that can’t fit inside of a cell anyways, and oh yeah probably a canteen to use.

Furthermore, she’s a fucking princess!!! She’s has credit and clout and can just get whatever she damn near wants just by asking; because she’s not your average person on the street like us.

I’m not going to feel sorry for the main protagonist when the main protagonist is an idiot who does these things to herself and makes life harder for everyone needlessly.

Rapunzel Has a Stunted Grasp of Ethics

Stalyan’s not wrong here. Unless you have an alternative, like your own horse or money to buy horses, that you decided to leave behind as well for some undefined reason, then yeah, you needed horses. Your friends lives are at stake woman!

I touched on this back in my TAR review, but the show leans heavily into authoritarian beliefs because it provides childish lessons for adult situations.

‘Stealing is always wrong no matter what’ is the thought process of a child. It does not take into account how systems of governments can stack the deck against certain groups of people, nor how sometimes emergencies come up and you got to deal them in the moment and make amends later.

And you know what, I’m not taking ‘it’s a show for kids’ as an excuse here. Children shows very much can introduce comlex themes and grey morals and plenty already have. If you make classism a major theme of your story then you need to actually address it, and that starts by having your main character acknowledge it.

This could have been the perfect opportunity for Rapunzel to grow. Up till now she’s always had her physical needs provided for her. Since her escape from the tower she’s also been thoroughly spoiled. Have her come down off her high horse and see how the other half lives. See first hand what Eugene and the pub thugs had to do to survive before they met her.

Have her things actually be confiscated. Have her princess title mean nothing cause no one knows her or believes her. Have Corona not recognized in this part of the world. You want to be the underdog then make her an actual underdog and have her learn from it.

Because Rapunzel having the moral outlook of child makes sense given her backstory, but she can’t stay that way. We all have to grow up sometime, we all have to learn the harsher truths of this world, and this is suppose to be a coming of age story.

So How Does Stalyan Know Where the Eye Is But Not Eugene?

If Eugene is the one who lost it, then how come he didn’t know where it was at? Why couldn’t he just have told Rapunzel all of this and left Staylan out of the picture? Also how do you know if Goodberry even still has it if it’s been years ago? How do you know where Goodberry is? It’s awfully convenient that he never moved in all that time and that he’s so close to the town of Pincosta.

Once again, plot holes.

Stalyan is a Poor Man’s Sadira

So for those of you who aren’t 90s kids like myself, Sadira is a villian from the Aladdin tv series. She’s basically Stalyan but done better.

Things they have in common

their goals are to marry the main hero, who are ex-thieves

both are jealous of the main heroines who are princesses

both are thieves themselves and have lived their whole lives as such

both believe they belong with the hero because they come from a common background

both resort to dubious means to win the heart of the hero

both try to get rid of the heroines but never resort to killing them out right

both are redeemed and eventually befriends the princesses

You know what the difference between the two of them is?

Sadira is actions are actually worse than Staylan’s but she’s given enough screen time and focus to come across as sympathetic to the audience.

I’m serious. Stalyan is an ex who was left at the altar by her douchey boyfriend, but their relationship was so toxic that she can’t understand that she’s actually better off without him nor accept that he left her for someone else. So she tries manipulating him into coming back to her, while her dad does some messed up blackmail and poisoning that she didn’t agree to but went along with anyways.

Meanwhile Sadria is a straight up stalker. She doesn’t even meet Aladdin until after the events of the first film, and he makes it clear to her from the get go that he’s in a committed relationship with someone else and isn’t interested in her. But Sadria tries episode after episode to ‘win’ him resorting to mindwipes, kidnapping, and even alternating reality.

But we actually see things from Sadria’s perspective. It’s made clear that she has no one and nothing. Aladdin is the first person to show her kindness and so she latches onto him. Sure it’s unhealthy and the series calls it out as such, but by the time she has acknowledged this and befriends Jasmine the audience now understands her and feels sympathy for her.

We get no such focus for Stalyan. Not even in her redemption episode. We still don't know why she wants to be with Eugene after he’s treated her so badly. We still don't have any clue what their relationship was like before the breakup, or even when the breakup happened. (I still think it was during the events of the movie and that he left her for Rapunzel, but it’s left open) It’s hard to relate to or feel sorry for Stakyan when we know nothing about her and haven’t seen this ‘good side’ Rapunzel keeps talking about for ourselves.

Even though theoretically she should be very sympathetic because of the way Eugene treated her, and because her actions thus far are relatively tame compared to most of the villains in the show.

Just Because Other Places in the World Are As Bad as Corona, Doesn’t Mean That Frederic Is Excused For His Behavior

This show thinks it’s a okay to introduce horrible crap so long as it’s done in a comedic way and not focused on, but this isn’t The Office. You can’t use a corrupt legal system and authoritarians abusing their power as the crux of your main conflict in season one and then expect us to just laugh off jokes like this one. Or the one about tailor getting locked up for ripping Frederic’s robe. Or find young Lance trapped in a cell with Shorty being fed gruel as funny.

Like, even if you do laugh at these jokes at first in the moment, once you stop to think about them, it just shows how awful Frederic and Rapunzel are, how awful the system is, and that change needs to happen. But it can’t happen if Rapunzel and the show doesn’t acknowledge that such things are wrong. That they are more than jokes.

The serious story that the writers want to tell is undermined by the comedy, and the comedic moments are undermined by the existence of the more serious drama.

So is this a sitcom or a drama? It can’t be both, not when dealing with such high stakes.

Sitcoms work because they’re low stakes. Few characters are affected and most situations aren’t life and death. Even in dark comedies where death is often the joke, it’s because death is seen as unimportant, something to be casted aside, and it’s funny because it’s disrespectful. But the moment you call to attention just how messed up everything really is, and how awful death can be, then it’s suddenly no longer funny. Especially if it’s innocents who are getting hurt. Dark comedies also work because it’s often computuance for characters who are awful people.

That’s not what TTS is, so it’s attempts at being like It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia or Rick and Morty just doesn’t work and comes across as tone deaf.

Also why are the dang horses in the cell with the humans? They’re horses!

So What Exactly Is Stalyan’s Plan Here?

No seriously, what is her thought processes here? The audience isn’t mind readers. We need know why the characters do the things they do.

Why is Stalyan still hung up on Eugene? Why does Stalyan think he’ll take her back if she shows up to free him without Rapunzel? What is she going to say when he asks about Raps and why would he even believe her to begin with?

What does ‘A thief belongs with a thief’ even mean!!? We have no context for this cause we have no context for their relationship!

This episode could have provided us with some context, some cule of why Stalyan and Eugene were together for so long, why they broke up, why she still wants to be with him, why she thinks he’ll return to her even now, but nope! We gotta have a stupid parody wrestling match.

Oh joy.

This Is a Guilt Trip, Not a Redemption

Rapunzel is full of shit.

If she honestly believed that there was ‘good in everybody’ then why did she send Caine off on the prison barge without even trying to relate to her? Why didn’t she try to befriend Weasel instead of fighting him off? Why is Varian currently sitting in a jail cell right now!!!

Here’s why Stalyan was ‘redeemed’ and not the others.

Rapunzel needed something from her.

Rapunzel guilt trips, manipulates, and coerces Stalyan into helping her. She doesn’t actually give a damn about whether or not Stalyan ‘does the right thing’ so long as she gets what she wants; Eugene’s freedom and his heart.

Sure Stalyan probably should turn away from her life of crime. She should let go of her obsession with Eugene. She should return the eye that she stole and start making up for her past. But you know what?

None of those things have anything to do with Rapunzel!

Stalyan needs to come to those decisions herself in order for this to be a proper redemption. If Rapunzel is involved in any of that then it can’t be with the condition that she’s gaining something from it. It’s not true compassion if you have an ulterior motive for what you do.

This Confession Might Actually Have Meant Something If We Had Any Actual Context!

This doesn’t tell me anything.

Why would Stalyan only see ‘a thief’? She loved him enough to want to marry him and has known him for years. Sure she may have accepted that he was a thief, encouraged it even, but there’s got to be other reasons why she dated him. Other reasons for why she wanted him back.

Also why does this come back to Rapunzel specifically? Is she the reason why he left Staylan at the altar? And even so, why is that a reason to give Eugene a free pass? Is it just because she’s the protag and now they’re friends suddenly?

In fact if you are friends now, then Rapunzel deserves to know the truth of who she plans on marrying and come to the decision if he’s worth it. If he really has changed, not just in terms of being an ex-thief but also in how he handles relationships.

We the audience deserve to know too.

Redemption Shouldn’t be Tied to Friendship With Rapunzel

Eugene becoming inspired to be a better person because he fell in love with someone is one thing. Rapunzel only forgiving people because they’ll befriend her is entirely another. Especially when two of the main villains become villains after they stop being friends with her.

It sends out a really gross message of favoritism and not letting go of toxic relationships, while also placing Rapunzel too high upon a pedestal.

Rapunzel Can’t Forgive Stalyan In Eugene’s Place

I’d be pretty upset if my current spouse just said that my abusive ex ‘was not that bad’.

Like, fuck both of you.

And yes, I did defend Stalyan in Beyond the Corona Walls, and I did say that we didn’t have enough context to claim she was abusive when they were in a relationship. After the breakup tho? Yeah, yeah she was abusive then. You don't have to be in a relationship in order to bully someone; you just have to have power over them.

Stalyan hurt Eugene, not Rapunzel. That’s why any redemption with her needed to be with him. They both needed to make amends, forgive each other, and move on.

This isn’t Rapunzel’s show.

If the creator wanted it to be her show then he shouldn’t have introduced conflicts that don’t actually involve her, nor characters with higher stakes then her.

This Doesn’t Feel Earned, and So the Audience Feels Cheated

And so Stalyan rides off into the sunset rich to live happily ever after presumably as a thief still, and no one gave a shit.

No one was asking for this. No one cared about Stalyan. Worse the writer failed to make us care. Ergo this whole episode feels like a waste and it is.

Conclusion

Much like the rest of season two this is pure filler, and not even good fun filler; like with the mermaid episode or the pirate episode. Worse it’s very existence actually diminishes Rapunzel as a character rather than build her up. So it fails in its sole purpose as a story.

#tangled #anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #stalyan #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure

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