#pufflewrites

[slythepuffle]

Desert Civ Headcanon + Drabble!

The headcanon was spun off from one made by @/wipyjun, so here's his first: "Apollo (Jr./Sergeant) was a child soldier. Sent on missions with much more experienced soldiers, he learned fighting tactics and other survival skills early on"

I added on: There was a soldier that Apollo Jr. had considered a father or at least guidance figure. I made this figure an older soldier Exo, since I felt hit fit the role. Sr. Apollo sent him on a solo mission and he never came back

Now drabble below the cut

"Do you have to go?"

Exo sighed, lifting his eyes from his backpack to meet the colorful gaze of the Commander's son. "Apollo. Don't you have training to get to?"

The boy - Not so much a boy now, yet still one in his eyes - leaned against the back of the chair he sat in, letting his head fall onto the backrest. He looked bored almost, but Exo saw the way his feet kept fidgeting, tapping repeatedly against the ground. "Later. But, seriously. Do you have to?"

Exo gave him a tired smile, reaching out and placing a hand on Apollo's head, ruffling his antennas. The TV head squawked, swatting his hand away as the older soldier went back to packing. "Commander's orders, kid. You know how it is."

Apollo huffed, straightening out his antennas before letting them droop. His head dropped onto his arms again, lights focusing on the bag. "I know, yeah. But why just you?"

The soldier shrugged. "Dunno."

"You didn't ask?"

"I'm not allowed to."

Apollo said nothing in response to that, silencing himself as Exo continued to pack. The soldier hummed in the silence, an old song that he was taught before flowing out of him. The boy listened, his screen dimming, his antennas reaching out almost as soft static filled the room. It matched Exo's tempo and melody, soft enough to not overpower but still loud enough to be heard.

A smile crossed his face, something tired but happy, as he finished and got to his feet. He slung the pack over his shoulder, and looked to Apollo once more. The boy looked up at him, his screen still dim.

"I'll be right back, kid," he said, softly. He reached a hand out and Apollo didn't swat him away, so he placed it on the kid's shoulders. He squeezed, gentle but firm, and reassuring. "Promise."

"…You better," Apollo grumbled, electricity sparking from his antennas. "Or I'll drag you back myself."

He barked out a laugh, pulling away. "You can try, pipsqueak!"

Exo turned, preparing to leave. He had a mission briefing soon, which would hopefully answer a couple of those questions he couldn't ask. He had just taken a step out the door when he felt arms suddenly circle around him, a warm box pressing against his back as antennas drooped over his shoulder.

"Please come back," the kid whispered, voice shaky. Exo inhaled sharply, feeling his heart squeeze as his smile tightened. He turned, embracing Apollo and returning his hug, holding the boy tight. Hoping to convey some comfort, reassurance, anything that would make this hurt less for him.

"Please, Exo."

"I will, Apollo. Swear I will."

With that, he reluctantly pushed Apollo off, ruffling his antennas again with a crooked smile, before turning and walking off to the meeting room.

~~~~

"I'll be right back, kid. Promise."

Apollo stood in the soldier's room, looking around at the untouched furniture. There was a layer of dust now, the room small and quiet and so unlike the soldier that lived in it.

His fist clenched tightly, trembling as his breathing began to quicken. Tears, unbidden and unwanted, began to spill down, dripping from the corners of his screen. Darkened droplets, similar in color to his blood yet clearer, dropped onto the floor, staining the carpets.

"It's not fair," he whispered to the silent room, feeling the tears cling to his cheeks and chin. "You promised."

"C'mon, kid. Can't cry when things don't go your way."

A sob choked out from his throat, and he held his breath, trying to prevent another. His tears came silent, his body trembling as he tried to hold them back. He swore he could feel a hand - his hand - on his shoulders again, giving them a comforting squeeze.

"…That being said, if you do need to cry, I won't tell."

With that, the gate broke.

He sobbed again, collapsing on the floor at the foot of the bed. He clawed at his arms, curling into a ball, tears splashing and staining his clothes. he cried and cried and cried, chest and voice aching as phantom arms hugged him.

"Why'd you have to go?! Why'd you have to leave me?! Why why WHY?! EXO!"

He was sad and angry and hurt all in one, his fist pounding against the ground as he yelled into the void. The voice in his head, the memory of the soldier who raised him, was quiet now. He continued on, crying and yelling, venting his frustrations to the one man who would never - and could never now - tell a soul.

His voice was hoarse by the end of it all, his body tired as it slumped against the bed. The room was unchanged, unresponsive and silent save for his ragged breaths. He sat there, curled in on himself, black staining his face and clothes and the carpet.

Knock.

He flinched, quickly rubbing at his face and getting to his feet. He stood at attention, as the door slid open, revealing his father.

The man stared at his son, silent as the soldier returned his gaze. His antennas twitched, the only movement in his stiff form, as his Commander gave off a small static hum.

"Clean yourself up, and report for training. You're late."

"…Yes sir. Sorry, sir."

[slythepuffle]

Love of A Parent, Pt 2

It's been a year, but here's Part 2 of this! No spoilers, but put under the cut. TW for mild body horror/faint description of injuries and robotic sickness?

“He comforted me, when I was hurt or sick. I know, basic of what a parent should do. But, it was still nice, y’know? Having him stick around to make sure I was better – Even if he didn’t exactly know how to make me better.”

To answer their earlier questions– No, he did not always have his wings. He could remember the times when his back was free from the weight of them, from the organic stretch and pull so different from his mostly mechanical body.

He could also remember the day that they sprouted from his back. It wasn’t a good day—A good week, actually.

When Apollo was young, a cold feeling had begun to spread throughout his body. It was like someone had placed a block of ice in his stomach, a chill stretching out across every wire. He found that he could hardly move, his system slowing down and freezing, leaving him with limited movements. His vision also swarmed with static, leaving stubborn grey spots that gave him headaches.

But when his father went to check on him, to feel the same cold he had complained about, he was burned. To him, Apollo was overheating, his vents blasting hot air with every wheeze and cough he made. Some of his circuitry was fried, that being the real reason it was so hard for him to move.

It was… concerning, to say the least. He had never really been ‘sick’ before, and never to this degree, not for this many days.

On that fateful day, the cyborg was curled on his side in his bed, cocooned in his sheets. His body was wracked with wheezes and coughs, still freezing despite the heat. He could hear his door creak open, his father stepping inside, but couldn’t properly greet him, instead blindly reaching for him.

“D̶-̴- ̸a̴d̶,” he croaked, sending himself into a coughing fit as his throat buzzed. His father winced, approaching and gently placing a cool wet cloth against Apollo’s forehead. He let out a glitched whine at first, trying to shy away from the cloth, but his father pressed it down. “1̴t̷-̶ ̵s̸ ̸c̴o̸-̵ ̵0̵l̷d̶–”

“I know, son, I’m sorry,” his father murmured, sympathetic. He watched as some steam rose from where the cloth touched Apollo’s screen, concern creasing his brow. “But you’re burning up and need to cool down. From what I’ve seen, this is the best way to go about it.”

“\̶/̸\̶/̵-̵h̵y̵ ̸i̷$̶ ̷t̷h̴!̷s̸ ̵h̸4̴p̴p̵e̶n̸i̸n̴g̷g̶g̵g̷g̴g̴g̶g̶g̸g̸–” His voice pitched high at the end, making his father further wince as Apollo trailed off into another whine.

“I don’t know, son– But it will pass soon. Just keep resting.”

A hand was placed on his shoulder, a thumb rubbing soothing circles into his back. It was meant to be comforting, but it made the cyborg squirm uncomfortably. It felt like he was pressing on his shoulderbone – Which was impressive, given he didn’t actually have one. There was a pause, before he felt his father pressing down slightly, discomfort growing as pressure built up.

Apollo made a glitched noise that didn’t quite leave his throat, trying to roll away. He didn’t get very far, only flopping onto his stomach and groaning at the effort of it. The pressure didn’t seem like it was going away, even after his father pulled his hand away, instead just pressing uncomfortably against the underside of his back.

“H̷̡̙͠n̷̦̂n̸͙̙͂̀g̷̾ͅͅh̷̙͈̑̒–̵̻̿͐” His fingers curled into the sheets as he groaned, his screen flickering. He hunched over slightly, pressing his face into the pillows as ERROR signs flashed across his vision, buried under growing static. He could hear his father calling to him, trying to talk– But he couldn’t answer, not with all his systems screaming at him–

“Apollo? Are you alright? What’s–?”

Ė̴͉R̸̜͝Я̵̟̌0̵̪̆R̷̳̀E̶͍͝R̷̢͒R̶̝̃0̵̡̉Я̷͓͝[̸̟͠N̶̨̓È̶̡W̸̪͑C̸̤͊O̵̾͜Ñ̷̩Ṇ̶͘E̸̖̽C̵̻̔T̷̪̄Ḭ̶̄Ó̷̞N̶̺̐E̷̮̅S̴͕̾T̶͇͊A̴͓͝B̶̻͋L̵̼̏I̵̺͊S̴̠͠Ḧ̷̳E̶̫͌D̵̫̑N̸̪͂Ë̵̯́Ẁ̸͇C̷̡̾O̶̯͐N̵͉͝N̸̗͂E̴̡͗C̵̝͛T̷̖̍I̴̲̐O̴̟̕N̷̹̑L̵̬͂O̸̪̓A̶̾ͅD̶̤́È̴̼D̵̤̋]̷͍̋0̷̩̈́V̵̟̏€̶̕ͅŔ̷̲L̸̥̋0̷̣̈A̵͉̕D̶̗̒:̸̻̑P̷̱̅Ą̷̄1̵̹͆N̵̘̑P̷͖͑À̷̹Í̵̩ӥ̸̤P̴̟̾∆̸̥̈́I̸͉̕Ǹ̷͔¶̵̩̓Ȧ̸̰Ï̷ͅN̸͇̓Ṕ̶̟A̸̤͠Î̶̮N̶̰̏G̷̝̑E̵͓̐T̵̙͘Ī̶͎T̴͎̕O̵͙͐Ũ̶̻7̵̪͆G̶̣̎E̸͈͠T̴͔̀Ị̶̓T̸̳͑O̸̖̕Ȕ̷̟T̴̩̑G̴͍̈́E̴͈͋7̴̬̔Ț̸͗Ḣ̶̝Ë̸̡́M̵̯̀0̸̘̀U̸̜͑T̶̬̐G3̵̖͠†̶̬͗7̴͈̓4̸̢̽3̶̜̚/̸̦̕\̴͙̒/̴͈̐\̴̝̉Ȯ̴͔Ü̸̟T̶̾ͅṮ̵̋T̴͓͝T̴̹̚T̷͇̂T̴̈͜T̴͖͠Ṯ̷̎†̵̗̉†̸̤̂†̴͈̄T̸̻̿T̶̢̛T̸͙͗T̸̛̪T̸͖̆T̷͚̈†̶̜͋†̷͓̐†̵̗͐T̷́ͅT̴̻͘T̴̯̅T̴̞̈T̷̙́Ţ̷̊T̸̡͂T̵̯͌T̶̜̐T̴̲̄ꓕ̸̲̑ꓕ̷̙́ꓕ̴̮̓ꓕ̵̯̾ꓕ̷͈̂ꓕ̷͉͠ꓕ̶̪͂ꓕ̴̻͆ꓕ̴͕͊ꓕ̵̭́

A warped, muffled scream tore from his throat, as he felt two large things tear through his back, ripping through metallic flesh like parchment. They stretched out, large and heavy, straining as far as they could before stopping. They felt heavy yet strangely light, weighing down on him as they balanced in the air. 

There was a slight twitch, his system blasting his head with strange new sensations as the appendages moved. He could hear someone yelling in the background, distant and underwater, too focused on the feeling of blood oil oozing from his wounds.

Distantly, he heard what sounded like bird chirping, and could see what looked like feathers falling to his sheets. He wondered why a bird decided to enter his room of all places, especially with his earlier scream. It hurt his throat just thinking about it…

As his head began to settle, he realized it was coming from him. Those strange, distressed bird noises filling the air, were his. Those soft, downy feathers stained with gold, decorating his bed, were his.

What–?

“–pollo!”

He flinched at the loud voice cutting through the static, finally coming to his senses. His back stung, sharper now that he was aware, feathers and cloth clinging to the wounds. A hand touched his shoulder and he squawked, scrambling away as his father stared at him with wide eyes.

“I– W-Wings,” his father stuttered, blinking as he stared behind Apollo. “You– You have wings!”

Said wings twitched at the attention, straining to cover him. He made a noise, something like a whimper and a sob as a sudden wave of pain hit him. “D̶̦̻͊̓a̸͚͔̐–̴̪̝̾d̷̦̯̈–̸̛͇̰ D̵͕͒̋a̷̭͈̒d–!”

That sprung his father into action, the man looking over him, hesitant to touch him. Apollo clung to his father as soon as he was close enough, releasing his grip on the torn sheets to latch onto his father’s tunic and burying his screen into his chest.

“Oh, my poor boy,” he heard the man murmur, looking at the mess of feathers, oil, and torn clothing on his back. He felt a hand touch the area above the wings, pressing gingerly, and flinched as a stab of pain hit him. The wings twitched, agitated as well. 

His father sighed, cradling him as he reached for the wet cloth that had originally been meant to cool him off. “I’m sorry son, this is going to sting.”

And sting it did, as the man began to clean away the oil and stray feathers from the wounds, starting at the base of his wings. He wiped the areas around them, wincing every time the cyborg made a distressed and pained noise.

“It’s alright, Apollo… Just bear with me, you’re doing great son… At least you aren’t sick anymore, right?” his father offered weakly, a strained smile on his face as he continued to clean.

Apollo made an annoyed chirp at that, his grip tightening as another spike of pain shot through him. He felt overwhelmed, taking on the new sensations with the new wings and the constant sting that came with cleaning them. He buried his face further into his father’s chest, his antennas flat against the top of his head.

“Still have a bit to do,” his father mumbled, and he made a sort of static whine. There was silence for a few moments, only broken by his flinching, before the man spoke again. His voice was soft, gentle as he asked, “Do you know what they look like? Your wings?”

His antennas twitched, though his head did not lift, screen dark. His hands gripped onto his father’s shirt tighter, and the man took that as a sign to continue. “Well, they’re a bit messy right now, but, looking at it, they’ll be beautiful once they’re cleaned. They’re mostly black, but there’s some white and grey flecks here and there, almost like snowdrops–”

The man rambled on, describing the heavy wings upon his son’s back, as he continued to clean in a soothing manner. Apollo listened, his grip slowly relaxing, the pain becoming less apparent. He wasn’t truly paying attention, though he did try to, to the best of his abilities. Instead, he just… let himself get lost in the background noise of his father’s words, a soft hum leaving him as he felt his body relax.

It was…

“Done.”

His screen flickered back on, as the cloth pulled away, stained with gold and covered in small feathers. The bed was in a similar state, though definitely worse, his sheets torn due to his own claws. He hadn’t noticed ripping them in his panic and pain, some scraps of the silk clinging to his fingertips.

His father sighed at the sight of it, but pulled back, observing his son. He hesitated, then placed his hands on Apollo’s shoulders, giving him a small smile. “How do you feel? Any better?”

Apollo stared up at him, cautiously trying to flex or at least stretch the wings. There was… a strain still, not painful but sore and strange. Something he would have to get used to. But, there wasn’t any pain anymore, and so he nodded. “Y-Yeah. Better.”

The man looked relieved, pulling the cyborg into a hug. His arms were tucked under the wings, careful to avoid the still healing areas. Apollo returned the hug, arms wrapping around his neck and screen pressing into his shoulder. His wings rose, curling around his father, accidentally smacking the man in the face.

“Pfft–”

“Sorry!”

His father’s laughter boomed, covering the noise of his apologies as he swiped the stray feathers from his face. He lifted his son up off the bed, high over his head, the boy squawking as he felt his feet leave the ground, wings and feet flailing. Apollo glared, his screen bright, about to demand his father put him down because he’d like his feet to be on the ground–

–only to stop, seeing his father’s bright and proud smile, the soft look he had staring up at Apollo. It was like… he was already seeing him fly, long before he had the skills to, soaring through the clouds under the bright rays of the sun. His wings twitched, stretching out wide, almost like it was trying to mimic the image that he imagined played in his father’s head.

The last bit of ice in his chest seemed to melt, replaced with something warm and excited, as he laughed alongside his father, pretending to fly in his grasp as the sun shined through the window.

[slythepuffle]

Drabble under the cut! Featuring B-13 and Scientist Assistant Zach

~~

"Do not bond with the robot, even if it cries."

The command echoed within Zach's mind, as he worked around the lab, disconnecting wires and dismantling robotic limbs. He did his best to focus on his tasks, trying to ignore the soft cries and glitched mumbles of the head that still remained intact behind him. Even while recovering from infection, its voice box still seemed to work.

"ł-ł-ł'₥ ₴ØⱤⱤɎ ₭₦₳Ɽ₣ɎɎɎ ₥ØɆ ₱Ʉ-₣₣ ₳ł₥₴Ɇ-ⱠⱠⱠ," B-13 whimpered, voice glitched and warped beyond recognition. Other audio clips seemed to sound, other voices not its own, remnants of the memories that still lay in their corrupted system.

He hesitated, hovering over its chest, a wriggling red tentacle in gloved hand. The voice continued, eyes flickering toward him, pleading and sorrowful. It pitched up, "ł-₥ ₴ØⱤⱤɎ ₦₳₳-₮ɄⱤɆ ₲-₲ⱧØ₴₮ⱠɎ-Ɏ ₴₦ɆɆ-ɆɆ₳₭-"

Zach turned away, trying to focus on the task at hand, ripping out more of the infection. B-13's cries grew louder, static whining and crackling in his ears as his wings flared. "ł-₥ ₴Ø-₴Ø-₴Ø-₴Ø-ⱤⱤɎɎɎ ĐĐĐĐĐĐĐĐĐĐĐĐɆⱤ-"

He shut his eyes, swiftly turning and finally shutting off the voice box. The skin on the back of his neck was raised, wings twitchy and unnerved. B-13 finally fell silent, though its eyes continued to focus on him, watching. So eerily and horribly sorrowful, almost human.

He looked away, continuing his work.

How did Apollo deal with all that?

[slythepuffle]

Headcanon: Apollos can self heal using nanites of a sort. Longer injuries mean that they take a longer time to heal, and their bodies could be considered 'dead' for that period of time.

~~

On an isolated desert planet, half-buried beneath the sands, was a corpse. A large gash ran from one end to another, practically cracking the screen in half and causing crooked lines to spread from it. The corpse had long been left to rot, to degrade at nature's whims…

Slowly though… the cracks began to close… quietly knitting and clicking together with a soft hum. The heart of the machine began to beat, pulsing slowly as the body repaired itself. It was no where near alive, not yet, but it would get there.

Slowly. Carefully. The cracks in broken glass disappeared, though the scars of them remained, thinner lines that marred the screen. The gash grew smaller and smaller, sparkles of sand and gravel being incorporated into the metal.

One day, the corpse would awaken. One day, it would learn the fate of its comrades, of its team. One day, it would find its way 'home'.

But not today.

[slythepuffle]

A drabble I had watching ApolloTV's Winter Apocalypse Video. Characters mightttttt be OOC (I apologize if they are, I'm kinda figuring them out as I go)

Under the cut due to spoilers

Crunch.

Draaaaaaag. Crunch.

A small groan left his throat as he started to come to, pain leaving his mind hazy and body weak. Static filled his vision, making it hard to tell what the hell was happening.

Drag. Crunchch.

It was cold. That... made sense, he thought. There was snow everywhere. But, it also felt like he was moving. Not on his own accord - He couldn't move his body even if he wanted to - but more like... he was being pulled along...?

Crunch. Draag.

But... who was still around...? Ethan was dead. Lukas was... gone, he hoped. Frisk and Jei... they had left in the rocket. He saw the rocket leave, just before blacking out from the Storm's attack.

Unless...

His thoughts were cut off when his body was dragged over a rock, uncomfortably digging into his back before knocking into his head. A pained, static-filled yelp left him, and the person dragging him stopped.

"..." Some of the static in his head started to fade, letting him hear their soft puffs of breath. There was silence for a few moments, before they let out a grunt.

"You're heavy."

"...F̴͈̌r̷̯͠i̶̗̔sk?" he croaked, coughing a bit to clear the static in his throat. They grunted again in response, before continuing to drag him across the snow. "I t̴̯͊h̷̼͂o̶̜͛u̸̫̿ǵ̶̪h̴̡͂ẗ̵̳..."

"That I left?" Their voice was... hard to read. "No. There was only room for one in the ship."

"So J̷̙̍é̸̱i̴͓̚ is..."

"...Gone."

There is silence again, with the exception of their boots crunching in the snow and his body getting dragged behind them. He let them pull him along as his body was still too weak, stewing in his thoughts.

Eventually, they paused again. It felt like they were on a slope of sorts, the grip on leg growing a bit tighter as they started to brace down it. He almost slipped out of their hand twice, causing them to curse.

“Thor almighty, why are you so heavy-”

He made an offended noise at them, not dignifying it with a proper response. They grunted, continuing to carefully maneuver down the slope with him, before he suddenly felt something surprising - Warmth.

It was weak, but still very welcomed, especially by his frozen body. His foot was dropped to the floor, Frisk's footsteps moving away from him. He could hear the crackle of the fire, slowly warming his body and mechanics. As it began to melt the ice and snow coating him, the static seemed to fade from view, giving him back his sight.

He could make out the shape of Frisk across from him, their shadow stretched behind them across the cave wall. They looked mostly the same - Their horns curled around their ears, their mask pulled up over their mouth, their clothes still covered in thick fur. But their spirit... their eyes... it seemed so dull now, compared to before. Tired and defeated, with bags and frostbitten skin underneath them.

"H̷͍͒o̵̹͘w̵̗͋.̴̢̇.̷̺͆.̸̯͆" He paused, coughing weakly. "How... l̷o̸n̶g̸... has it been?"

"..." Frisk rested their head on their knees, hugging them to their chest. "A while. Hard to tell. The snow has gotten too thick for me to tell the days apart."

He winced, turning his head to the fire. "Why... did you come back for me?"

Frisk closed their eyes, head drooping further. For a moment, he wondered if they had fallen asleep-

"You're the only one left now."

His antennas reached for them, as he struggled to lift his head and look at them. They didn't seem to notice, so he gave a confused hum, drawing their attention. Their eyes opened again, their gaze seemingly even duller than before as they met his screen.

"Everyone's gone now," Frisk said, voice as bitter and cold as the wasteland around them. "Ethan is dead. Lukas is dead. My parents are dead. Jei is... gone. The Storm is out there, still destroying the whole dead world... I don't have anyone now. Only you."

They spit the word out, glaring at him through the fire. He stared back, unable to flinch away from their accusatory gaze.

"You were the one who caused this. You killed Odin and the whole world went to shit. People died because of you. So many people - People with friends, with families, with lives are all gone. My village, my home, my family is all gone, thanks to you!" Their voice rose with their growing anger, hands clenching and teeth gritting. "I know you're trying to make up for it. I know you tried to save Jei and me because you felt bad, guilty for what you did. But it doesn't change the fact that you're here, and they... aren't."

Their voice cracked near the end, eyes squeezing shut as their nose scrunched up. Shaking and shivering, crystals forming in their eyelids as they buried their face back in their knees.

"It's not fair," they whispered, voice muffled by their fur and leather. "It's not fair..."

Apollo did nothing, could do nothing, as Frisk began to sob into their knees, fingers digging into their arms as the held themselves. All he had the strength to do was watch, as the blizzard raged on outside, as the fire crackled between them, weakly projecting their shadows on the wall...

~~~~ (Extra bit I didn't quite know how to connect to above)

Frisk was asleep now, head resting on their arms, flat on their stomach. They had their head turned away from him, so it was hard to tell if they were actually sleeping or not... He'd rather not risk waking them up regardless.

Silently, he tried to twitch his fingers, trying to regain control over his body. He winced at the stiffness, but was surprised enough at seeing his fingers curl inward, clenching them into a fist. He tested it further, trying to bend his arm, internally groaning as he felt static hiss at him for his attempt.

"Owowow," he hissed, forcing himself to continue his movement. Eventually, he was able to get it to move without too much feedback, and worked on the rest of his limbs, silently groaning and internally screaming at the painful stiffness of them all. Seemed like even with the fire helping, it still wasn't enough to completely melt all the ice that had frozen his circuitry.

After regaining some feeling in his legs, he got to his feet, wobbling. His wings were thankfully tucked away for now - He would have easily lost balance if they weren't. He took a few steps forward, hand on the wall, digging his feet into the cold stone floor as he moved.

Satisfied with his tests, he turned to look at Frisk again. They had seemingly not stirred at all, despite all his noises and creaking as stretched his limbs.

Good. That was good.

Slowly, he shuffled toward their side, trying to keep his steps light and quiet. His body ached in protest, but he ignored it, pushing through. He braced himself against the wall, sliding down to sit near their head. He faced the fire, watching the flames for a few moments as he contemplated his words.

"I̶ ̸k̴n̸o̵w̶..." He gave a frustrated sigh hearing the static in his voice, yanking at his antenna and adjusting it. He continued, the static finally fading from his voice. "I know apologizing won't mean anything. Saying 'sorry' won't fix anything. So I won't say that. Instead..."

He paused, glancing at them. Their head was still facing the wall, their body rising and falling with every breath. Still asleep, for the most part.

"...Instead, I'll make you a promise. An oath - That so long as I am around, I won't let you be alone." His voice was soft yet firm, as he spoke his vow. "Even if I'm not always going to be the best company, even if you hate me for what I've done, I won't abandon you to wander this frozen hell."

"..."

He hummed, nodding at their silence as he turned back to face the fires. Whether they heard or not, he didn't know, nor did it really matter. He made his vow, and he was going to stick with it.

It was the least he could do, after what he's done.

[slythepuffle]

Love of A Parent, Pt 1

Taking shelter from the winter cold, Apollo and Frisk finally have a moment of rest. During this time, Frisk decides it's a good time to get to know their strange companion better.

More Winter Apoc Apollo and Frisk writing! Coming in different parts as I procrastinate on my homework.

No spoilers, but put under the cut just in case.

It was… a long day.

The two of them had decided to settle in for the night, finding shelter in a nearby cave in the mountains. The wind raged, propelling snow and clumps of ice against the entrance as they huddled against a slightly raised platform deeper within.

The Storm moved in the distance – Far away from them… for now, at least.

Apollo worked on whittling down wood, cutting off the chunks of ice that stuck to the branches, while Frisk worked on starting a fire with the sticks he had already done. They were grumbling, violently working two of them together to get at least one ember going.

“Wish we still had that flint and steel… Would have made this so much easier…”

He winced, feeling their glare as he continued cutting. “I said I was sorry about that! I didn’t mean to break it!”

“Sure you didn’t. They’re just so easy to break and happen to snap on their own…”

“Next time, you try lighting a fire while your hands are literally freezing up! We were lucky I could even make a fire at all.”

They stuck their tongue out at him. He huffed, flicking a small snow chunk at them since he couldn’t do the same. He got a snowball launched at his face in return, their laughter filling the air as he squawked and flailed backward.

A spark finally ignited, regaining their attention, and Frisk got down, cupping their hands over it. He could hear them blowing at it, encouraging the spark to take hold and spread, consuming the wood pile. There was a sigh of relief at the same time as the crackle of fire, their shadow cast on the walls as they sat on their haunches.

Both of them relaxed, finally having some warmth wash over them. Frisk moved to lay down on their stomach, resting their head on their arms. They sighed, closing their eyes. The flames danced in their face, given their proximity to the fire, but they didn’t mind – It felt rather nice.

Apollo put down the knife, wiping snow off his screen and tossing the branch he had into the fire. It crackled as it hit, flames licking along its sides as it began to burn. A hum left him as he stretched out and leaned toward the blaze, hoping to warm his machinery. His wings unfurled from his back and head, coated in light layers of frost.

Frisk slowly opened their eyes again, having heard his wings shift. They were rather noisy things and hard to look away from, especially with the snow covering them like glitter. It wasn’t often that he had them out, really only when the Storm was getting too close – He claimed that they were quick to freeze up in the cold, and that they were heavy, so he kept them hidden.

They thought the wings were mechanical, like the rest of his body. They weren’t expecting the large, bird-like appendages that looked real. Things of flesh and blood that were so… unlike the robotic being that they were attached to. They would have thought they were made to look like that, if he hadn’t let them touch the wings once, and felt the lifelike warmth they produced, little as it was.

It was… unnatural. Strange, though they suppose that Apollo was just strange in general, given the mysteries surrounding him. They never really thought to question it, given that they had been so focused on traveling and getting away from the Storm.

They certainly had some questions now though, seeing his wings up close once again.

Apollo turned to them, head tilting slightly. One of the wings on his head, so much smaller compared to the ones on his back, curled. “What?”

“…” They narrowed their eyes, saying nothing as they continued to stare. His screen flickered, crooked antennas curling slightly. “You’re weirding me out. What is it? Do I have something on my face?”

He touched his screen, searching as they snickered in response. His screen flickered again, wings folding closer – It was almost hiding parts of his face, hiding it from them, as he shook his head at them. “You’re not funny. But seriously, why are you staring so hard?”

Frisk hummed, thumbing some melting snow off their nose. Then, they pointed at his wings, causing his head to turn. “Not staring at you, I’m staring at those things.”

The bigger wings twitched, folding as though to hide behind him. The smaller ones pulled away from his face, flattening against the sides of his head. Frisk raised an eyebrow at him, watching the wings. He stared at them, motionless for the most part.

“What about them?”

“How’d you get them?”

He scratched the back of his head. “That’s… complicated. Kinda traumatic.”

“Okay then– How long have you had them?”

“…For a while.”

Their lips curled down slightly. “What are you?”

“Good question – Like the others, hard to answer.”

Frisk frowned fully at him. “It’s easier to tell me ‘fuck off’ if you don’t want to talk about it.”

Apollo made a wincing noise. “That’s– It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it, exactly.”

“Then why are you being cryptic and avoiding my questions?” they countered, shivering slightly as a breeze rolled over them. The fire flickered, causing both of them to tense for a moment as they watched, before returning to normal. After it settled, he sighed, his screen’s light falling on them.

“It really is just a complicated situation,” he explained, forcing his wings to relax and stretch again. “There’s a lot of things that are just– hard to explain. And they’re long and boring and stuff.”

Frisk huffed, air condensing in front of them. “Well– Try and cut it down, or something. Can you at least give me straight answers instead of dodging?”

He leaned forward, propping his elbow on his knee as he rested his head against his palm. One of his antennas was raised, bent at a certain angle. “Why are you so curious in the first place? You never questioned it before.”

They rolled their eyes. “Well, questions are usually the last thing I think about when running away from an eldritch horror devouring the land in an endless winter storm. But now, I’m not really doing either of that, am I?”

“…”

Frisk pinched the bridge of their nose. “That wasn’t– Just– Let’s just talk. To pass the time, for however long we have it. Please?”

Apollo stared into the flames, silent. Frisk inhaled sharply, frowning further as they watched him. “…You know me.” 

A twitch, from his wing and antenna. They glared, continuing. “You got to know my family, my friends, my stories, my life – I answered your questions when you asked them. Can’t you do the same for me?”

He exhaled, fog puffing up his screen, head dropping slightly. “I… Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. What do you want to know?”

They rested their head against their arms again, keeping their eyes on him. “…You had a family too, didn’t you?”

“I did, yes. My dad.”

“…Tell me about him.”

Apollo’s screen flickered, dimming slightly. “He was a good… person. A good father, and a good man, someone who was strong but kind. I looked up to him a lot. He… did a lot for me. More than I felt like I deserved, sometimes.”

They hummed. “Like what?”

His wings drooped as he leaned back, looking up into the ceiling. Frozen crystals twinkled down on him, screen glitching slightly as he thought back on his memories. They could see his body relaxing, shoulders falling as he got lost in his thoughts. 

“Where do I start…?”

[slythepuffle]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Another ACU Drabble for Winter Apocalypse! I'm still working on the family one

This one is inspired by art by YourLocalDemon on Discord

[slythepuffle]

Part of an idea I plan to write, featuring Winter Apoc!Apollo and his dad

Not really spoilers for anything, but put under the cut just in case

~~~~

"Dad! Helpppp," the android whined, tugging at his antennas fruitlessly. They had gotten tangled together somehow, wrapped around leaves and branches. His wings were folded against his back and head, formerly clean feathers coated in snow and dirt. "I got it stuck again."

His old man sighed, walking over and gently shooing his hands, inspecting the damage. "I told you to watch where you were flying, Apollo."

"I was!"

"This tells me otherwise."

Apollo winced as his dad pulled out one of the branches, a static whine sounding. "That hurts."

"Sorry son. I'm trying to be gentle, but you got them stuck rather well."

The android grumbled as his antennas were untangled and cleaned, his foot tapping against the ground. "I'm never flying again…"

His father chuckled. "You say that now, and I'm sure I'll be doing this again a few hours later."