Apr 14
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waiter waiter! more shadowvanilla please!
tartarus percabeth :)
woooo the pookies!! first ever percabeth fanart :)
For today's fun fact of the day: tyler galpin was and is a teenager when he got chained up and tortured in willowhill for months!
Two steps.
That’s how close Hero was to the door when it slammed shut behind them. They were frozen, staring in shock at the figure resting causally in a high-back chair.
Villain was settled right in the center of the room they had just entered.
The loud thud and the softer click of the lock is what finally snapped Hero out of their statuesque state. Unfortunately, by then, it was far too late to flee. That left ‘fight’ on the list of appropriate reactions to this situation, but Hero’s weapon felt like plastic cutlery in their hand.
Against him, it would never be enough.
They raised it anyway, hands trembling visibly as they pointed it towards the man with one leg crossed over the other.
“I’d drop that, if I were you,” he drawled, drumming his fingers over what appeared to be a remote and flicking his eyes up over the hero’s head.
Slowly, Hero tilted their head back, their gaze reluctantly shifting to the ceiling.
Their weapon slipped from their fingers, clattering to the ground like the toothpick it was.
“Kick it over there, if you wouldn’t mind,” Villain ordered, nodding to one side of the room.
Hero’s foot moved almost robotically and their weapon skittered across the floor.
“Great, now we can talk.”
Villain leaned forward, never taking his hand off that remote, fingers hovering ominously over the buttons.
“Talk,” the hero parroted numbly, standing stiff and swallowing hard.
Right. Because Hero had all their best conversations at laser-point.
A lazy smile spread across the villain’s face.
“Please, take a seat.”
Hero walked stiffly to the only other chair in the room, all-too aware or the whirring of the device in the ceiling that was locked onto their every move. They sat, perching uncomfortably on the edge of a deep cushion.
There was only one thing on their mind, and that was escape.
But there was no way out. Hero had studied the building blueprints long enough to know that this room had only the one exit and no windows. They were trapped deep in the interior of the abandoned science facility and could be killed at the press of a button.
A painful silence spread between them as Villain took in the definitively trapped hero.
“Well,” the villain chatted lightly, “I was beginning to think you’d be late.”
It was fairly hard to be late to something you didn’t know you were walking into, Hero thought—but wisely did not voice.
The villain inclined his head like he was awaiting a response, so the hero gave him one.
“What are you doing here?”
That did not appear to be the response he was looking for.
“Now Hero, is that any way to have a proper conversation?”
Said hero found themselves biting their tongue about the correlation between threat of death and breaking the cooperative principle. Their heart threatened to beat right out of their chest, like the organ itself knew any word they spoke might send them straight to the afterlife.
The villain tsked at the stony glare that was sent his way in lieu of a reply.
“You’re here, so I can pass on some helpful information,” he spoke and added smoothly, “I suggest being grateful.”
“Not to state the obvious here but,” they hesitated for only the briefest of moments before continuing, “why the hell would I believe you?”
“I present you with a gift, Hero. I do not take such a thing lightly,” he stated seriously. If he held any distaste for their choice of language, he held it at bay for the moment.
“And what am I going to do with this ‘information’?” The hero questioned. Confidence that didn’t feel entirely their own compelled them forward as they scoffed, “Take it to my grave? How generous of you.”
“Please. The Ray is purely for personal safety assurances.”
He gestured vaguely to the deathly contraption in the ceiling.
A giant super-powered laser did not seem to Hero like it would be included under the weapons of self defense category, but once again, they kept their mouth shut.
Perhaps their words had already doomed them, but perhaps the Villain had enough grace to ignore a certain number of inappropriate retorts, given the circumstances—fearing for their life and all.
“Right. So…” Hero took a moment to compose themselves before they continued carefully, “what kind of information?”
The villain grinned, showing all his teeth and revealing the maniacal glint in his eyes.
“I’m so glad you asked.”
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Part 55 of my bakery “enemies” au!
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