#but did make this one where chaos and midas have done it before this ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tiikeria · 4 years

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No Roads Left to Run

Title: No Roads Left to Run Ship(s): None Rating: T Warning(s): Minor Character Death, Language Words: 3,577 words Summary: Everyone thought they knew the legend. The story of the king who wished for the go and was punished for his greed when he couldn’t eat, and when his beloved daughter was turned into a golden statue of herself. When he begged Dionysus for a reprieve from his mistake, he was given a way out: wash anything he turned to gold in a river, and they would return to the way they were.

That was how the story went, at least. The story of Midas.

It couldn’t be more wrong.

Notes: What is it, 2016? I’m writing fic? Something ain’t right. But, this is based on an AU I have with a couple of friends that we started, oh, 4 or 5 years ago. This fic was started in 2016, actually, with a certain person as Akakios. Obviously that changed.

Always, enjoy the fic and hit me up if you’d like to chat!

The rain had started to fall on the docks as the last terrified scream echoed against the concrete buildings and steel containers surrounding them, trapping them in, looming over them like a silent jury. Looming over him. His hand lowered shakily and the gold marks along his skin faded into nothingness as he let the power drain from him, no longer necessary now that the threat was eliminated.

But now…now he had a different problem. One gold couldn’t fix. One he couldn’t fix.

As the rain became heavier and thunder rumbled in the distance he could feel their gazes on his back, and he could imagine the expressions on their faces if he would turn to look. Fear. Horror. Possibly betrayal.

He had lied for so long. Lied to them all. He had hidden who he really was under the guise of protecting them. Instead, he had only been selfish. He had lied to them because he cared. And because they cared in return. They cared for him, and not for the gold that formed from his fingertips so effortlessly. He didn’t want to lose that feeling of belonging that he hadn’t had in decades. So he lied.

And now he lost it anyway.

He couldn’t turn, couldn’t face them, their disappointment, their fear. Everyone feared him in Los Santos; they feared who he truly was, to be exact. Few feared the Fake’s Golden Boy. But many feared the God that owned the city.

No one had known that they were one and the same. Until now. Until he had no choice. Until he had to give everything up in the name of protecting them from being gunned down in a planned massacre.

At least they were alive. That was his only solace. They were still alive.

Without turning, he spoke, voice just loud enough to reach them above the rain and thunder, “I’m sorry.”

And he ran.

Everyone thought they knew the legend. The story of the king who wished for the golden touch and was punished for his greed when he couldn’t eat, and when his beloved daughter was turned into a golden statue of herself. When he begged Dionysus for a reprieve from his mistake, he was given a way out: wash anything he turned to gold in a river, and they would return to the way they were.

That was how the story went, at least. The story of Midas.

It couldn’t be more wrong.

Midas wasn’t born a king. He wasn’t even born a mortal. He was a demigod, son of Dionysus and a blind peasant woman named Theodosia. Born of trickery, when Dionysus disguised himself as the woman’s devoted husband, Akakios, as he was out to market. She only discovered the deceit afterward, but it was too late. She would birth the God’s son when the time came.

They called him Midas, and Akakios loved him as if he was his own blood. After all, the two had desperately prayed for a child and if this is how the Gods chose to grant their prayers, then so be it.

Midas grew into a curious and playful young boy before they discovered his gift. His gift of gold. He didn’t understand why the King of their small island called his Mama and Papa and him to see him. All he did was make a flower pretty and shiny for his Mama. Was he in trouble?

He would later say he was.

The King was a greedy man, always coveting the wealth of the larger islands, of the grander Kings. And he saw Midas as a way to achieve that wealth; a child who could make gold on command was his gift from the Gods. So, he offered the peasant parents a deal: he would ensure they had food on the table, and clothes on their backs, as long as the child would create for him.

Without a way to truly say no, they agreed, and Midas went into the employ of their King. He still remained with his beloved Mama and Papa, growing stronger every day as he helped with their modest farm. But the calls to create were getting more frequent and more elaborate, and Theodosia and Akakios worried when it would no longer be enough.

The answer came on the eve of Midas’ thirteenth birthday, Akakios out at market two days away, with a promise to bring his son a wonderful gift. The King had not called in a few days, which had become a bit of an oddity, but they thought nothing of it. If he didn’t call, Midas stayed home, and stayed strong. Too much creating and he would grow tired and weak.

They should have worried more.

The knock on the door came as the moon was rising over the coast. Midas would always regret opening that door.

Soldiers grabbed him as soon as the door opened, their grip tight on the boy’s arms as he struggled. He heard his mother cry out for him, reach for him. She was yelling at the soldiers to release her son, that they had no business taking him.

“By decree of your King, this boy is now property of the Kingdom and shall be escorted to the palace,” one soldier spoke, his voice cold and level. He cared not for this woman’s concern, for her upset. At least, until she grabbed at Midas.

A sword was drawn in an instant, blood on the floor as she dropped. He vaguely remembered screaming for her, trying his best to get to her. But it was too late. Far too late.

The last time Midas would ever see his first home was that night, as flames licked the sky and destroyed everything he ever knew.

Gavin was good at hiding. He had done it for centuries under different names, different faces. He had run for years, for decades, without so much as a second thought. So why was it so hard to leave now? Why couldn’t he find himself away from Los Santos, away from California, away from the States?

Why wasn’t he back in England with Dan? Why was he still watching them from a distance?

Because he cared. For the first time in many, many years, he cared.

So he stayed.

He spent three years as a slave to the King. Three years of nothing more than creating for a man who cared not for him as a person, only as means to an end. Gone was the curious child with the golden smile and bright laugh. Gone, like his home. Gone, like his family. He was alone, and only had himself to blame.

Him, and his golden curse.

It was three years before anyone would come for him. Dionysus himself coming to collect his son from the tyrant who had made him a slave. Dionysus didn’t take kindly to the treatment of his blood, to the murder of Theodosia, whom he still cared for.

It wan’t Dionysus that found him, though. It was a satyr named Pan. The God of Nature himself.

“Midas?” He questioned, looking into the eyes of a boy who had seen too much, “It’s time to come home. Your father is here.”

“Akakios?” Midas would ask, knowing he would be wrong. He wondered if Akakios would have ever come for him if he knew where he was. If he knew he was alive. Midas’ power took everything from Akakios; he had no reason to seek out the bastard child who ruined his life.

“No, boy,” Pan predictably told him, something kind in his gaze, “Dionysus. He’s been looking for you for quite a while; no child of his shall be a slave.”

“He’s a few years too late,” Midas told the God, but followed him despite his cynical words.

Dionysus couldn’t have been more different than Akakios had been. Akakios was a quiet, thoughtful man. Dionysus was loud, boisterous, and quite temperamental it seemed. But, he was Midas’ escape from this prison, and he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Midas had his suspicions as to what happened to the King, but he never asked. He never cared. If the King was dead, then everyone was better for it.

He allowed Dionysus and Pan to lead him away to yet another place he didn’t know. Another place that wasn’t home.

He had never been more homesick in his life.

The crew was searching for him. They had been for the last week since he disappeared. He saw Michael’s fires, and Jeremy’s fights. He saw Jack’s helicopter combing the hills and Geoff’s car on the streets. He saw cameras searching for him, Matt on the other end. He heard Trevor digging for intel, and Alfredo searching by scope. And there was Lindsay, causing chaos as if they hoped it would be a siren song for Gavin to come back. To help them cause it.

But it wasn’t any of them who found him first.

No, it was the one who grew up in Los Santos. The one who knew the stories. Who knew where you turned when your luck had run out.

Fiona arrived to the modest plywood stand in a damp alleyway in La Mesa with a bag full of gold pinched from the crew and a determination unlike any other. She was the one to call him back, unable to ignore a request from his own altar.

“Fi? Why are you here?”

She graced him with a narrow stare, arms crossed, anger and concern in her veins, “ Why do you think I’m here, Gavin? I’m here because you left. You left and you haven’t come back.”

Stepping from the shadows, he gave her a tired, golden-eyed once over, ‘I’m not coming back, Fiona.”

“Like hell you aren’t!”

He lifted his head, standing straight, looking very much like the God he was, “Go home, Fiona. Forget Gavin Free. Forget me.”

He didn’t stick around to hear her reply.

He was eighteen now. Two years with Dionysus, and two years since he was no longer a slave. At least, in normal terms. Now…now he was a trophy. Dionysus’ favored son; not because of himself, but because of his mother. His mother Dionysus still loved. He was nothing more than his remaining link to the past.

He was no more his own man than a child.

But, he did have solace in one other. Pan, the Satyr God, had become his closest friend. He taught him how to control his power, how to shape it, how to bend it to his will. He taught him about the shepherds who called to Pan for blessings, and the animals they herded across the land. Pan taught him about nature, and showed him how to respect it.

But, most of all, Pan taught him he belonged to no one.

The Gods of Olympus also seemed to take a shine to him. Artemis taught him the hunt, and how to feed himself should he require it. Hephaestus taught him the forge, another way to bend his powers into beautiful and useful shapes. Apollo taught him medicine, how to heal himself if a fight went wrong. Athena taught him wisdom, and how to find one with unpleasant intentions.

Hades gave him the greatest gift of all.

In a small temple on the coast, a lone keeper watched over the altar of Hades. Devout in his care of the temple and his prayers to the god, Hades had been curious what this man had lost to cause him to be so pious to the God of the Underworld. Hades appeared to the man one night, as the keeper was finishing his evening prayer, and he asked. He asked what the man prayed for more than anything.

“The happiness in the afterlife of my wife and son,” the man answered, eyes awed, but tired, as if he had lost the life that once resided in them.

“What is your name, Keeper?” Hades asked of him, not unkindly, “And what were your wife and son called?”

“Lord Hades,” the man replied, “They call me a Ghost now, but once my name was Akakios. My beloved was Theodosia, and my son Midas.”

Hades knew then he was looking at the man who raised Dionysus’ golden son, the same one Pan had been searching for in an attempt to bring happiness back to his friend. Dionysus had never truly been a father to Midas. But Akakios had. And it was only right the boy was returned to his father.

“Devout Akakios,” Hades spoke, “I wish for you to meet someone. You have been praying to me for many years, and I wish to reward your selflessness. You cared not for your own gain, but for the souls you have lost. Come with me, Temple Keeper. And I will give you a gift.”

Akakios had no reason to deny his Lord, so he stood, approaching the God of the Underworld with the lack of hesitation reserved for men who welcomed death. Together, Hades whisked them away from the temple on the coast, to a grove surrounded by trees, the smell of earth as strong as the scent of sea salt had been before.

“Hades,” a voice called, “What do I owe the pleasure?”

Akakios never dreamed of meeting one God, let alone two, but before him stood a Satyr, flute in hand, a crown of leaves and flowers adorned his head. Pan, the god he once prayed to for the safety of his flock.

“I found him, Pan,” Hades said, gesturing to the man beside him, “You were correct, he did yet live. He’s been one of my most loyal followers, but he is here now. Pan, may I introduce you to Akakios.”

Pan seemed quite overjoyed to meet this mortal man, and it only confused Akakios more when the satyr…hugged him?

“Oh, he’ll be thrilled, Hades! He’s nearby, wait here!”

Akakios looked to his God for answers, but found nothing more than a kind smile.

“Pan!” Another man’s voice echoed through the clearing, “What is this about, my friend? I haven’t seen you this excited since the last revelry!”

The voice was so familiar, yet so different. Who was Pan leading back down the path?

Akakios’ breath left his lungs as a golden-eyed boy — no, man — followed Pan back into the grove. It couldn’t be, yet here he was, alive and breathing and looking at him like he had seen the ghost he had been called.

“Midas?”

“Father?”

“I hear you’re looking for him.”

The crew was no stranger to the black-clad figure in their living room. He had his own reputation, but seemed to exist only when he wished to exist. The city called him The Ghost, the specter in black with the blank white mask that haunted the streets.

Rumor also had it that he was Midas’ only priest.

“We are,” Geoff said, eyeing the figure warily, “But not for a favor.”

“No, you’re looking for him for personal reasons, I am aware,” The Ghost said, glancing out the windows overlooking Los Santos, “I know who you are and what he means to you. A friend, not a God. Something he desperately needed after so long alone.”

Jack cocked her head, “So you are connected to him.”

“You could say that, yes. I know you know how to contact him. One of you already has. But it will take more than gold and pleas for him to come back. He’s frightened.”

“Of us?” Fiona pipes up, brows burrowed in confusion, “Why?”

“Almost everyone who has ever known his true nature has turned on him. Used him for their own gain. Or, has cast him out, shown him hatred and distrust. He doesn’t want that with you. He cares too much; it’d kill him if you cast him aside.”

“I don’t care if he shits diamonds!” Geoff exclaimed, “He belongs here.”

The Ghost cocked his head, and they could almost sense he was smiling, as if they had passed some test of his when it came to Gavin. Maybe they had.

“Go to his altar. All of you. Bring your tributes. He cannot ignore a call from the altar; he refuses to. Tell him what he means to you. He will listen, but this may be your only chance to get him back.”

“What’s your angle?” Jeremy finally asked, arms crossed, “Why help us?”

The Ghost laughed, something soft in it, as he pulled off the mask, showing them a olive-skinned man with dark hair pulled back and sharp, clever steel-gray eyes assessing them, “I’m simply a concerned father, looking out for his son.”

Midas would run many, many times in his life. Whether from those with foul intentions or from lives run their course. But none were more important than when he ran from Dionysus that first time, Pan and his father by his side. He was a free man, now. Free to be who he wanted.

It wouldn’t be the last time he’d be Free.

He gained a reputation in the cities they passed through. He would set up a small stand, selling jewelry and golden trinkets. The nobles loved his work, but the peasants were the ones who praised him more. He would take the coin he earned and buy them food, buy them cloth, buy them whatever they needed. He never kept for himself. He, nor his father, nor his brother. They gave to those who couldn’t provide.

“We’ve been where you are,” they told them with sincere kindness, “If you ever are in need, pray to the one they call Midas. He will answer.”

Gods are only as strong as their following. And as Midas’ following grew, the stronger his power became. Everyone prayed for gold. But he wasn’t just the fledgling god of gold. No, he was more. God of the Outcasts. God of the Impoverished. For they coveted gold in the purest form. They only wanted to provide for themselves and those they loved.

So, while Midas charmed the nobles, he truly became a man, a God, of the poor.

Years would pass, and he would gain many names. He would become many men. He would help many more. He would learn at the greatest institutions, read the greatest literature, and see history unfold right before his eyes. The rise and fall of empires, the invention of wonderful and terrible things, religions growing and dying. He watched it all.

And beside him stood his friend — his brother in all but blood — Pan, now often called Daniel. And on his other side, bearing a gift from Hades himself, stood Akakios, his beloved father.

And he? Well he became fond of a certain English name. Gavin.

He was tired. Tired of hiding. Tired of trying to decide to run, only for his heart to bring him back. He was tired.

He was tired of lying to himself that he didn’t care anymore.

So when he got the call from his altar with a very familiar feeling, he wanted to ignore it. But, his promise always brought him back. Midas would always answer.

“Fiona,” he started, appearing in the alleyway without preamble, “I told you to forget-“

“Yeah, and I think she probably told you that wasn’t gonna fucking happen, Boi.”

Midas froze, taking in the nine people before him, staring at him, having called him here. They were all there. His crew. And on the altar was his own gold aviators, among gold trinkets he recognized. The crew loved calling him a magpie, always picking up something gold and shiny for them when he could. There sat his gifts to them. In a gift back to him.

“Midas,” another voice chimed in from behind him, and he didn’t have to look to know who it was, “Listen to them. They care more than your fear leads you to believe.”

“We miss you, buddy,” Geoff looked torn between reaching out for a hug or throttling him, and Midas’ heart ached for how normal that was, “Come home. I don’t care what magic shit you can do. You’re still our favorite dumbass that makes stupid bird noises and makes up words because you can.”

“I’m a God,” Midas choked out, “I’m not like you. I never should have been close. I never should have pretended.”

Lindsay smiled gently, their hand reaching out to him, “I’m sure even Gods need friends.”

“You…you really…don’t care?”

“I mean, we kinda would like an explanation, but for the superpower shit, not really. I mean, it was pretty fucking cool how you made goddamn statues of those guys,” Jeremy’s grin was lopsided and Midas could have hugged him too for how normal they all acted. It was as if nothing changed. Had anything changed? Well, yes, they knew the truth. They knew their Golden Boy was a Golden God.

But they didn’t care. And now he felt foolish for thinking they even would.

“Go home, Midas,” Akakios said quietly, “They’re as much your family as I am. Go home and be happy. You deserve it.”

Slowly, Midas stepped towards his crew, and they could see a change in him. Something different. Something more familiar.

Gavin Free had returned to his family. He had stopped running for the first time in a long, long time. And they were there to welcome him home with open arms.

#ragehappy #my fic #fahc #midas gavin

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amazingflyingdick · 4 years

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stars gone nuclear.

WHO: Dick Grayson @amazingflyingdick & Slade Wilson @terminator-deathstroke ; mentions of Damian Wayne @sonofabct WHERE: NOVA Headquarters WHEN: September 13th, 2020 WHAT: Dick is infiltrating the secret lab at NOVA Headquarters when he realizes something is wrong.

Slade: All around them, chaos. Slade couldn't tell how many people he had cut down, but Slade didn't operate with any kind of hesitation or concern. Normally, he did show mercy and normally he did have some modicum of respect. But this was like a nest of wasps. The heroes hadn't dealt with it, so Slade was going to deal with it. NOVA had been around too long to really be allowed to continue and he wasn't going to allow them to take another shot at Dick. This was what he did. What he had trained for. Death and destruction were his calling card. And if he could use it to actually care for his own this time, he would.

Damian Wayne was every inch Talia Al Ghul's child. He saw it in the way he fought, the way he could fully disengage from human life. He had said before that he was wasted with Bruce Wayne, who suppressed his natural skills at every turn and refused to let him live as he should be permitted to live. Let him use the skills he possessed from birth. Slade could teach him everything, but he was sure that wasn't a fight he would win with Dick. If he could even win this one.

Damian had a set of detonators, and Slade had the other. They had been blown and major structural damage had been done to the building. Their security was fried, and they were methodically destroying everything on top of taking out operatives.

He could hear, however, even through the din, the moment Dick arrived. He had always said he could pick his heart out of a crowd, and now was no different. He tense, flicking blood from his katana and holstering his pistol as he turned. "Nightwing," he greeted. It would be easier for Dick, wouldn't it? If Slade kept it professional right now. It was a job, but Slade wouldn't begrudge Dick his rage.

Dick: The sound of gunfire reached him even though Dick was in the basement. The walls were thick down there, and everything was muffled, but even he knew when something was very wrong. There was nothing he could do at first. He was in the middle of helping Erik get the mutants out safely. There were still more who needed to be released.

But he had no idea what was going on or who would be shooting in a NOVA facility. The possibilities set him on edge. It was no coincidence that the league was carrying out their elaborate plan at the same time. Something must have gone wrong. The thought preoccupied him, even though he managed to focus long enough to get the last of the mutants out of the building. Only then did he finally feel as if he could leave. The commotion was only getting louder.

He'd just reached the first floor when he felt the building shake. Parts of it collapsed. Stunned, he rushed through the the hallways, dodging people who were running from something - or someone. As he passed people on the ground, Dick stopped to check their pulses just to be sure, just in case he could so something to help, and he was shocked to find not one of them alive. This almost looked professional.

When he rounded the corner and saw Deathstroke standing there, he stopped cold. The slow dread in his chest intensified to near-panic. His throat felt tight. "What are you doing?" The sound of his own voice startled him. He felt disconnected from it. He was in complete shock, even denial, and he kept telling himself that this wasn't what it looked like. It couldn't be what it looked like. Dick didn't know how to reconcile with the idea.

An agent that was trapped in the doorway close to him screamed for him to help her. Blinking, Dick held up a hand. "It's all right. You'll be all right."

Slade: "She won't be," Slade answered. "Her body is half crushed." He pulled his pistol, leveling it at the woman. "It'd be more of a mercy to get out of my way and let me finish up here." He knew he was right, and he knew that Dick would be a pain in the ass regardless. He hadn't anticipated that he would do this. That he would appear. But he had, and Slade would have to deal with that. "I hadn't thought you'd show up so quickly." He had known he'd come, but Slade had half wondered if he'd get out before anyone from the League surfaced.

Dick: Dick glared at him, but he instantly moved so that he was standing between the gun and the woman. At the same time and on instinct, he withdrew both escrima sticks. "No." He wasn't going to let him just shoot her, especially if there were still a chance that she could live. "I..." What? Slade had expected him to show up? This was some sort of plan? His mind raced back to the last time they'd seen each other. Suddenly it made more sense - or less, he wasn't sure. It was impossible to understand why this was happening. Seeing Slade as Deathstroke made it ten times worse. "I was here before you," he said woodenly, his jaw clenched. "Was this the job you told me about? Is this what you were hired to do?"

It was the only thing that made sense. Slade had lied to him... again. He'd been lying the entire time. But why? To get closer to him? To get information from Dick about the league, so he would know when to plan the attack?

Slade: Slade blinked before shaking his head. "No. It wasn't the fucking job, Dick." There was no point playing at secrecy. Dick had been outed to the whole city, and all of these fucking people knew who he was. They knew enough to nearly kill him, and Slade wasn't going to give them a second chance. Therefore, it didn't matter if they heard him or not. "I knew you'd show up because you always show up. You always appear to stop things. But I'm doing what needs to be done. What I'm surprised your people haven't done sooner."

Why hadn't Wayne taken them out? They could have easily dealt with NOVA. They had Superman on their side and Bruce Wayne was balls-deep in a woman would could literally destroy reality as they knew it with a single phrase. Slade did his research and he wasn't a moron. He hadn't come to Star City to do this, and he hadn't given a shit about NOVA until they had hurt Dick. But that had made his personal. Slade wasn't going to let Dick go without retribution, and he wasn't risking King Midas not being available to make death obsolete should they manage to actually successfully kill Dick the second time around.

Dick: "Then why are you doing this??" Dick wasn't making the connection, even though he might have been able to figure it out if he wasn't so stunned by what he'd seen. He just couldn't get his head wrapped around it. NOVA had been a thorn in everyone's side for years. Even though he was aware they had some sort of involvement in what happened to him, it didn't occur to him that it would have inspired something like this. They didn't know for sure who orchestrated the attack yet. The last he heard, Tim was still tracking down surveillance. Even when they did find out who was responsible, it wasn't as if he'd want them dead.

Shaking his head, he stepped back, but still maintained the position between Slade's gun and the agent. "You think the answer is to kill them all? Destroy the building? That isn't the answer. That isn't going to change things for us, or for mutants or metahumans. That - it isn't - why? Why would you..." The information that came over the comm made his mouth snap shut. His eyes widened. "Damian?" Suddenly he moved, his palm striking the side of the gun as he tried to disarm him. "Why is my little brother here, Slade??"

Slade: "I don't care about mutants and metahumans, Dick. I'm not a hero. I don't care about the greater cause." Slade had always been a businessman, and by virtue of being a businessman, he cared more about himself and his people than he ever would about some overarching cause. In his years as Deathstroke, he had learned that most people died the same at the end of the day, and good or evil was all fallacy. He found that his way of viewing the world was more realistic. Less doomed to fail.

As the other seemed to get some kind of comm transmission, Slade reached up to speak into his own, informing Damian that the League had arrived. The kid could choose his own adventure as to what he would do next.

"He's here for the same reason I'm here, Dick. You. We're doing what your father should have done. What his precious League should have done. These fucking people shot you in the head. You're one of their own gets fucked?" He shook his head, and very nearly reached up to pull off his mask. But he couldn't. Not if he wanted any hope of walking the streets of Star City as a free man.

Dick: Dick was seeing red. He had no idea what was going on. None of it made sense to him, partly because he wasn't allowing his brain to slow down and process the information. He was already starting to suspect what the answer was and he didn't want to hear it. The woman behind him was the only one in earshot, but even if there were other witnesses, he was too infuriated to think about protecting Slade's identity. The rage and absolute devastation was dizzying and he didn't know how to channel it.

"What?" Even though his voice was almost a whisper, it was obvious that anger simmered just below the surface. "No - don't. Don't try to tell me this has to do with me. You can't possibly think this is what I want. That I would want people dead because of me. I..." It made him sick when he thought about the bodies he'd passed on his way here. The idea that he was responsible for it was overwhelming. And Damian being part of it - Damian, who had trained with him and thrived as Robin - was too much to handle.

The woman's cries had stopped. Dick felt his back against the wall and he slid halfway down it, bent over, his grip so hard on the sticks that his knuckles were white. "I can't believe you did this. How could you? Do you know what this means? Do you even know what you've done?"

Slade: Slade sheathed his weapon. He didn't need it. He'd never use it properly on Dick anyway. He watched the other sink and shook his head. "What you want isn't necessarily what you needed, Dick," Slade said, softening for him as he always did. Beneath the mask, his face gentled, not that it would matter. "I protected you. I did all of this for you. Damian wanted to do it too. I didn't coerce him or force him. But don't you see that this pandemic from NOVA would continue to worsen? I wouldn't see you in another fucking hospital bed on their account while your so-called father sat useless even for calling in your fairy godmother to fix you." He shook his head. "I wouldn't."

He moved toward him, reaching out to catch his chin. "Don't you see? I did it because you wouldn't. I did it so you wouldn't have to, and so that even your team wouldn't have to. This method makes changes, kid. I've been using it a long time."

Dick: All Dick could do was shake his head. He could feel his hands shaking, but he managed to retain his grip on the sticks. It was the only thing that was keeping him together, grounded, and he barely heard what Slade was saying. The words twisted up in his mind. "Stop. Stop. No." He couldn't listen to it anymore. "I didn't need to see them die. I didn't need to know that I'm responsible for their deaths, or that it's because of me that my little brother went back to being something he's worked so hard not to be."

His breath caught when Slade took his chin and he lifted his gaze. "Do you think that absolves me? It doesn't. I played a part in this." Even if it were a passive role, he had been the driving force behind it. He'd failed to stop it in time, or even see it coming, despite the warning signs he'd gotten from Damian. "I didn't need this. I needed you."

Slade: He hadn’t expected Dick to understand or to be grateful. Why should he be? Still, Slade shook his head, especially tripping up as Dick mentioned Damian. “Something he worked hard not to be for you, kid. Do you really think that he’s ever going to be like Batman? It’s in his blood. Literally. He’s an Al Ghul, and all Batman ever did was tell him how wrong he was. How every belief he carried was wrong. He’s worked so hard to snuff out every hint of his mother and never paused to think the kid might be better off like Red Hood. Or like me.” Slade scoffed. “Damian’s choice was his own, and it’s probably one of the first ones he’s felt certain about. You all tried to beat it out of him, but never taught him why.”

He shook his head. “And I’ll let you in on a secret that Bruce Wayne never will: there is no why. There is no moral absolutism, Dick. Anyone who claims they know greater based on morality is selling bullshit. Look at you. You won’t even let them see who you are, what you need. All because Batman forced you into something you weren’t and then threw you out when he was fucking done with you.”

“Horseshit,” he answered fiercely. “The only part you played was showing up here and doing this. I chose to make the plans, Damian chose to work with me, I swing my own fucking weapon and so does he. And we do it for the same motivation.” Because they loved him. Slade loved so few people in this world. There were even fewer for whom he’d put down his life. Dick was in a group he could count on one hand. And it was Slade’s choice. “I did this, little bird. You did nothing.”

Dick: "That's not true!" Dick insisted, instantly agitated and angry at the thought that Damian had done anything for his sake. It had been his decision too. When he'd encouraged Damian to take up the Robin mantle, it had been with the understanding that he would follow the rules required to wear the suit. That was a choice he'd made. At some point, Dick always imagined that Damian would make his own way in the world. This wasn't the choice he expected him to make, however, especially when he was supposed to be working with Barbara. With Bruce. This wasn't supposed to happen. None of it felt right. "You don't know what I taught him," he said hoarsely. "I always told him why. He..." What had happened? How had this happened?

He shook his head, but his breath caught when Slade brought up what Batman had done. It brought another wave of anger, and he pushed his hand away from his face. "No. I chose to be Robin. I wanted it. I believed in it. I believed in what he taught me. All of it." It hurt to hear those words spoken aloud. Bruce throwing him away. That had been what it felt like, even though he'd gotten more explanation in the years that followed. What he had failed to live up to were Bruce's standards. He'd made them his own and tried diligently to stay in line and to be perfect, but he would always fall short. It was an impossible expectation he'd never be able to maintain. "I put it on myself," he said dully. The anger was still there, but there was no energy behind it. Motivation. That's what he was. "Doesn't matter. What now? We all walk away from this place. NOVA rebuilds. More agents replace these. It's pointless and it doesn't change what happened. It doesn't change what will happen. This isn't what I wanted and it's sure as hell not what I needed." Pushing away from the wall, Dick suddenly remembered the woman and bent down next to her, reaching for her wrist. He didn't feel a pulse. His shoulders crumpled and he lifted his other hand to his face, pressing it over his eyes. "You threw me away, too, you know, and for what? This?" Closing his eyes, he took a slow breath. "Just... go. Go before they get here."

Slade: “If it wasn’t true, why is he still fucking killing after all these years? Why isn’t he Robin anymore? It’s bullshit, Dick. What reason do you have to tell him that he can’t be what he is? That he can’t do what he’s good at? Not everyone in the world is destined to be a fucking superhero. He’s a person, and people make their own choices. Look at Red Hood. You love him, don’t you? In spite of the fact that he’ll never be ‘good’. You love me. And I know what I am, too. So do you. You’ve always known, Dick. And you loved me anyway.”

“And he let you. You put it on yourself and he never fucking told you that this life would kick you in the ass over and over and sometimes your fuck ups are just a part of being alive.” He shook his head, looking away. “I’m a shitty father. My kids hate me and crave me all at the same time and it’s because I fucked them up. But at least I’m not so arrogant as to think that my little girl doesn’t hurt inside every time I’m hard on her. That my sons aren’t lobotomized from the effects of his death or fucking mute from a gamble I lost. I did that. I ruined them. I don’t walk around pretending I didn’t. And I’d never let them tell me I hadn’t.” Slade loved his children. He loved them so much, and he hurt them all the time. It was why he had pushed them to the Titans. They had needed them. They didn’t need him. Slade had seen that. Bruce Wayne saw nothing but his fucking agenda, and he didn’t care who fell to it.

“It’s not pointless,” he snarled. “It escalates. Prompts action. No war ever ended because the good guys sat in their ivory towers planning and never acting. Now you’ll all have to, and now they won’t think they can get away with sending an assassin after you again. I’ll kill them over and over again, Dick. I will never let them hurt you like that again. Whether you want me anymore or not, I looked you in the eye and told you I loved you. I’ve told one other person. I’m not gonna fail you like I failed her."

He caught Dick’s face again, this time pressing his masked forehead to his. “No,” he said. “I just accepted that I’d never be a good enough man for you, Dick. That I could feel more fiercely for you than I ever did for another person, and I still wouldn’t ever be what you thought you wanted. I accepted that this would probably be it for us. I’m not going to stop loving you, little bird. I didn’t for ten years. Even if it’s fucked up, it’s what we’ve got. I’m not throwing you away. You’re just cutting me loose. I understand.”

He pushed back, giving Dick one last lingering look. “The main bombs will blow in four minutes. The larger ones. Let them know if you want. Or just get everyone the fuck out.” There was a pressure in his chest and he almost wished that his heart would explode like Grant’s had. Slade Wilson was a stranger to heartache, because he usually ran on too much quiet rage or brutal resignation to let it through. But he had known from the start of all this that they’d be doomed in spite of everything. He just fucking hated to be right.

Dick: Dick shook his head. "That's not what I told him. I... wanted to show him another way to live, a way that wasn't killing, because he didn't know any other way. He'd never had a choice before. He chose Robin. I knew it was only temporary, until he made a new name for himself, and that would also be his choice." He'd made an effort not to box Damian into one way to be. Of course, that wasn't to say what happened once Bruce took over, but there was a reason Damian hadn't given up Robin. Wincing, he lowered his head, unable to argue against the undeniable fact that he loved Jason and Slade despite what they did. He couldn't think of them as bad.

"He didn't have to tell me. I learned that on my own." None of the lessons had been easy. Dick wished Bruce could have been more of a father rather than a mentor. He knew now that Bruce hadn't wanted to act as if he were replacing his father. At the time, it had felt like a rejection. Hearing Slade talk about his children and compare what he'd done to Bruce made his heart sink. It was something he'd thought about before, but only when he'd felt embittered and frustrated at Bruce's inability to emote. The way he was had cost them all. Lives had been lost to it. Dick knew Slade saw the effects of his own upbringing and had his own thoughts about it. Slade was the one who slept next to Dick at night, who dealt with his frequent night terrors, a side effect from early exposure to fear gas and Joker venom. He found himself unable to speak up and defend Bruce this time. If anything, he didn't want to undermine what Slade said about his own kids. There was truth to it, even if Bruce had his reasons. Wincing, he shook his head again when Slade said he would kill them over and over. It made him wish, naively, that NOVA wouldn't come back to the city. He didn't think they'd give up that easily, but maybe it would slow them down long enough for the league to get the upper hand. Maybe they could end this sooner rather than later. It wasn't something he could focus on right now. Not when Slade was saying things like that to him, words that sliced right through him and tore into his heart. He could barely stand to hear them.

This time he didn't pull away from Slade's hold. His eyes stayed open, even though he couldn't see him at all behind the mask. He wanted to remove it. This wasn't what he wanted to think about when he closed his eyes. He wanted to see his face. "Don't... don't put this on me," he said, almost too quietly for the words to be understood; his voice was broken. "I wanted you. I risked everything for you, for this, because I thought..." Swallowing hard, his gaze drifted down to the woman next to him. "I thought you wanted it too. But this is the only thing you really love, isn't it? The only thing you really want."

The main bombs. There were more? Shocked, he looked up at him, suddenly realizing the high likelihood that members of the league could have been killed if he hadn't gotten here first. He quickly communicated the information to Babs, but he couldn't bring himself to move. To leave. There was no way he was going anywhere without Damian. "I'm getting everyone out."

Slade: Slade shook his head. He could see the betrayal in Dick's eyes. He could see how hurt he was. But Slade had anticipated that. It didn't mean he was sorry for what he had done. It didn't mean that he believed it to be the wrong call. He had done it for Dick and he'd do it again. A thousand times over. He would risk everything, including the security of the relationship, to keep him safe. "You know what I want, Dick. I haven't lied about that. Ever."

Still, the assassin understood a dismissal when he saw one. Falling back, he gave one last long and lingering gaze to the other before turning to get out. Radioing Damian, he told him to clear out, or to report to Dick. Whatever he was going to do. There was no time to dawdle.

When he made it into the fresh air, Slade didn't look back. He only prayed as he walked that his little bird had managed to take flight as the final explosions sounded against his retreating back. He winced with the first, but tasted bitter resolve with the second.

#c: terminator-deathstroke #c: discord #dick grayson #slade wilson #damian wayne #slade/dick #death tw

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princesscyr · 4 years

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Gold & Venom: Chapter 1. A Fortnite Fanfic

Pairings: Midas/Yellowjacket Main characters: Midas, Yellowjacket, Jules, Fusion Rating: G (Might be mature later or something idk) This post includes: Authors note, chapter 1 Posted on: 28/2/2020 Submitted to: Tumblr, ao3, Wattpad

Midas didn’t think that his life could get any worse after The Agency blew up. The failure of the Doomsday Device he and Jules worked on was the big monkey wrench that foiled everything. So here he was, drifting on a small boat near Sweaty Sands. Two months ago he narrowly avoided getting eaten by a Loot Shark, turning the sea creature into gold in a last-ditch effort to get away. Whatever was left of The Agency after the explosion, he had given to Jules, in hopes she would rebuild it. Jules did not reject this as he thought she would have. Instead, she took the offer and gave him one last hug before she took off into the chaos. That was almost 3 months ago and the hatred he felt towards everything in this insufferable island just kept growing, and it was reaching its tipping point.

Today was day 87. Day 87 of drifting in the ocean, moving from his sleeping cot and back out onto the deck to see where he was. He could have made his way to the shore but that would be too obvious. Midas knew he was a wanted man and he wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bounty on his head. He was a successful man, a spy boss for one of the most powerful agencies on the island. He ruled with a golden fist and he was both respected and feared. He could make armies crumble with his golden touch. He had all the money in the world and had all sorts of riches: jewelry, clothes, and even some of the most expensive things in the world. He took his power and used it to build an empire, and now he was nothing. Nothing but a shell of what he once was. A small man with a golden touch but no power, no riches.

He was getting used to the serene environment around him. From the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore, to the sounds of seagulls squawking and looking for food. He reaches into his pocket for his smokes, he was a big fan of the Marlboro kind and pulled out his golden lighter. If there was one thing he was glad to have saved, it was his cigarettes. He would have lost his sanity if he didn’t have them. He could go without his scotch, certainly, but not his cigarettes. He had to ration his happy sticks, 1 stick a week. The black-haired man lit the cig before taking a long drag. He heaved a sigh, looking ahead.

“I need to figure out my next move, it has been almost 3 months, and I’m still at square one.” He speaks to nobody in particular.

He stomps out his cigarette later, moving back towards his sleeping chamber. That’s when it happened. In the distance, he hears what sounds like a motorboat revving its engine. Followed by another, and another. Growing a bit nervous, Midas reaches for the tactical shotgun he hid near his cot since he didn’t have his Drum Gun anymore. He cocks his shotgun, preparing for a potential attack. Soon enough, the sounds of the motorboats get louder and closer. Midas was ready.

His boat had been surrounded by motorboats, boats in black and purple colors. Some carried two henchmen, some boats even had three. Each one with guns at the ready, so he knew he couldn’t make a run for it. Those motorboats carried rockets. Within the chaos, Midas did not hear someone get off the motorboat until he heard a slow clap followed by a deep laugh. Midas turned around, gun at the ready.

Fusion puts his hands up, “Now now, goldilocks, you’re going to make a big mistake doing that. I just want to talk, whatever happens after that… well, the choice is yours.”

Midas growled lowly, cocking the shotgun again, “Speak and make it fast, Fusion.”

The blue flamed man motions with two fingers for the others to lower their guns. “Midas, I thought we made it clear that you needed to scram if you wanted SHADOW to forget about you. It seems you either misunderstood, or you have a death wish.”

“Jules said nothing about me needing to “get lost”, flame boy.” Spat the tattooed man, “I’ve been off the radar since the incident—how did you know I was here?”

“It’s not hard to find a lanky man that has a golden touch.” Fusion cackled, motioning with his fingers again for all guns to go up. “Take your pick, or would you like to ride with me?”

When Midas didn’t answer, Fusion moves closer, his blue flames leaving a light trail behind him.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Goldilocks. Either way, you’re coming back with us. Except one of those ways, you’ll be dead and I’ll have to explain to Jules why I had to kill her big brother. Get the picture?” his voice was taunting, as though he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Midas himself, given the chance.

Midas throws the shotgun down, making sure to keep eye contact with Fusion as he did so.

“Fine. I’ll bite. But I wish to talk to my sister. Alone.”

Fusion grins, the flames on his face lighting up from contentment.

“Sure. We’ll let you two have your family reunion, but no funny business on the way there, or you’ll become swiss cheese, goldie.”

Jules was not the type of woman who cowered to men, and her older brother was no exception. While she and Midas had a decent sibling relationship, Midas still acted as though he was better than her. It’s that cocky attitude that got him to this point. His arrogance caused the engineers to rush the construction of the Doomsday Device and the machine's eventual failure, resulting in the flood that wiped out the island. At the time of this, she was just an engineer who worked for Shadow that went behind the agency’s back to work with her brother.

Now, at the humble age of 18, she was a spy boss. She took The Agency’s remains to The Authority and rebuilt everything. Now she ruled with an iron fist, not letting people treat her like she was an arrogant child. She was the opposite of what her older brother had become. The last time she saw him was before the flood, and she neglected to tell him that he should never come back. To go far away and start a new life—that he will be forgotten by the agency if he did that. Deep down, she didn’t want him to go. He was the only family she had left.

To a stranger, one would think Midas and Jules were twins. The trademark black hair and the full-body tattoos, but Jules was younger than Midas, who was only 23 years old. Their personalities were opposites. Jules wasn’t very social while Midas was charismatic and confident. Midas resembled his father more in terms of behavior and actions while Jules was more like her mother with her grace and patience. Growing up together, Jules was more favored by her parents than Midas was, as she was the only daughter and she wasn’t a troublemaker like Midas was. Jules knew Midas held resentment for her, and whether or not he’d admit it, she knew he held it. She loved her brother very much, but she also resented him right back for blaming her over their parents favoring her, as if that was her fault.

Jules heard a knock on her office door which caused her to turn around in her chair with a sigh, taking her attention away from an engineering manual she was looking at.

“Come in.”

Four henchmen step in, two of which were holding a handcuffed Midas. Fusion followed behind them, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I did as you asked, Boss. Here he is in the flesh.” Fusion declared proudly.

Jules leans back in her seat, her eyes glancing over her brother as if she didn’t recognize him.

“Midas.” She clicks her tongue at the henchmen, who force Midas to sit down in the chair in front of her desk.

Midas hissed in pain, glaring at the henchmen.

“A bunch of incompetent monkeys. They swarmed me, I wasn’t doing anything. I was by myself enjoying the sea.” He sneers, glaring at his younger sister with disdain.

“Hey, aren’t you guys going to get rid of these cuffs, or am I some high-risk threat and you’ll throw me into a cell after you’re done with me?” Midas barked at the henchmen as well as Fusion, who were walking away.

When he doesn’t get an answer, he looks back to his sister with a ‘uncuff me?’ face.

Jules shakes her head, “I’m not removing those cuffs just yet. You and I are going to have a chat and you’re going to listen to what I have to say.”

Midas scoffs, “Oh please, you think because you’re the big spy boss now that you think you’re better than me? Because newsflash, doll, you’re not.”

“Maybe you’re right. I neglected to tell you before the accident that you need to leave this island and never come back. To start a new life on your own. We were willing to forget about you. Instead, I showed weakness by hugging you, because I was afraid you’d die. That’ll never happen again, however, so don’t worry.” She answers him, straightening up in her chair, her expression void of any emotion.

“I know there was a catch to that. There always is. You’d send a spy after me to make sure I stayed away. But guess what, Julia?” he leans forward in his seat as well, smiling perfectly so she can see his teeth both gold and white, “You’ll never get rid of me. You will always be that scared little girl who runs to mommy and daddy whenever something goes wrong. You have no good qualities about you except for your engineering. But I know you. I know you better than you’d like to accept. You’ll make a big mistake by not killing me.”

Jules clenches her jaw, standing up to make her way over to him. Compared to Midas, she stood at 5’3”. He was a good 6’5”.

“A mistake, maybe. But I think you can redeem yourself here. You are a poor excuse for a man, Midas. You always have been. You’re insufferable, cocky, and you hide behind your golden world to avoid any backlash. In reality, you’re just a lonely little man with a crumbled empire that’ll never get rebuilt. So here’s what we’re going to do,” she starts as she reaches into her utility belt for the cuff key.

After she frees Midas from his cuffs, he rubs his wrists before looking at her again as though he was waiting for her to finish speaking.

“You’ll be working for me. You’ll be seen but not heard. No missions. Think of it as an internship, but you’ll be paid and have free room and board here. You’ll do all the filing, transcribing… you’ll even have your own office. You’ll take orders from me and anyone who is above you in ranking and you’ll do exactly as you’re told. You will also be safe here, as you’ll be doing low profile jobs around this agency. Nobody outside of our agency will know you are alive and well. Along with that, you will also be an overseer for the engineering wing, you’ll supervise any work they do. You’ll keep track of their progress and I expect the report on my desk by 6 PM on the dot. Every. Single. Day.” She drawls out the last part of what she says, as though Midas was incompetent.

“And if I don’t accept your lovely job offer? It is lovely by the way, I never knew my work skills would bring me to this point of my life,” he comments sarcastically, almost insulted that he’d be offered such a basic job in the first place.

“If you don’t accept, then you’ll be in a nice 5 by 7 cell with no privacy, the henchmen will watch you piss, poop, eat and sleep. I’m sure that’s not a very comfortable outcome for you, Midas. I won’t lie, a lot of people here want you dead, but I’ve managed to convince them to spare you just this one time. I strongly suggest you take me up on this offer.”

Midas goes back to glaring at her, “So you’re going to hold everyone's resentment of me over my head as a way to get me to join you? Are you mad, darling?” he snaps at her.

Jules shrugs, “I think my proposition is really good, Midas. Think about it, you get to live. You’ll have your own office and own space to sleep. All you have to do… is do as you are told.”

Midas looks away from her, trying not to pout. Even if he had nothing, he was being offered immunity and any sane person would accept that over being stuck in a room with a few agents who are ready to kill, and they’ve killed for a lot less.

After a few moments of silence, Midas huffs, “I suppose I can accept the offer. So long as you give me a tour of this place. This building is a lot bigger than what The Agency once was.” He counteroffers, to which Jules gives him an accepting shrug.

“I can give you a tour of our agency. Bigger is an understatement, though.” She says with a hint of pride.

The Authority was made in Jules’ image of Midas. Its walls loomed over the surrounding mass of water, the building overlooked Salty Springs. Before the big flood, Jules had a foolproof plan to surround the building with high metal walls, to prevent severe flood damage. When the flood came, some water did get into the perimeter of the walls, a few feet away from the building. The building, while it looked small from an outside perspective, the inside was huge. With over one hundred rooms and underground bunkers, The Authority can function smoothly as possible. Recruits were trained in the training wing, where they receive intense training in a classroom as well as the sparring gym. Classes start the moment sunrise begins and ends at sunset, every single day. There was a cafeteria within the training wing for the recruits to replenish their hunger after long, hard training hours.

As Jules leads Midas down to the training wing, Midas could feel all eyes on him. He knew he was deeply hated around here but at the same time, he felt a sense of superiority and safety. He was safe. These people can’t do anything, so long as he stays on Jules’ good side. Surely, he could get away with some things, right?

“You’ll be proud to know that I have used your methods of training for these future agents, Midas. These agents have an equal opportunity to succeed with the trainers I have personally hired. Your dream of an ideal system hasn’t died.” Jules explains casually as the two siblings pass by a group of chatty recruits, who all greet Jules with respect.

“Good afternoon Boss,” one of the groupies greets her with a smile and a nod of his head.

Jules returns the gesture, “Afternoon, recruits. I’m assuming you are heading back to class now? Lunch just ended didn’t it?”

As the groupie and Jules talk, Midas couldn’t help but feel eyes on him from the rest of the small group. They were off to the side, whispering and gesturing towards him.

So even the recruits know who I am, huh? He thinks to himself.

He was used to that kind of treatment. Anywhere he went, if he wasn’t met with respect, he was met with fear. Unsettled glances and people afraid to look him in the eye, for they too, were under the ignorant belief that looking him in the eye means they’ll turn to gold. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have a fanbase of his own, though. Women who admired him for his good looks, his charismatic personality, and overwhelming confidence. He used to remember getting love letters every week when he’d pick up the mail for The Agency. Some letters were sweet, nearly flattering to him while some were… concerning. Creepy letters such as how they wanted to have children with him or help him run his empire. Midas had no desire for having a love life, much less offspring. He was a monster, or at least he accepted himself as such, and bringing a child into the world would just be bringing in a smaller monster of himself.

Midas crosses his arms, giving the whispering groupies a stone-cold look.

“Do we have a problem here? A reason you feel the need to stare me down?” he sneers, causing them to stop whispering, some squeaking in surprise. “N-No sir,” a girl speaks up, “We were just admiring your tattoos. They l-look nice.”

Jules looks over at the sudden commotion, sighing as the group trembles at Midas. “Midas, stop it. People are allowed to look at you. You have tattoos for heaven's sake!” she hisses at him, gesturing him to come beside her.

Midas huffs, mumbling a thank you to the girl who spoke up for the compliment, but he wasn’t biting easily.

“Let's go. I’ll show you one of the classes that’s on right now. You recruits have a good day now. Train and study hard!”

Jules leads Midas down a side hallway away from all the commotion. The hall was quiet as the recruits were already in class. Jules walked up to one of the classroom doors and knocked three times before letting herself in. It seemed that Jules had walked in on the middle of the instructor teaching the class more advanced attack movements. The instructor, whose name was Riptide lit up when he saw her.

“Everybody, what a wonderful surprise! Boss Jules has stopped by to say hello!” there was a cheery tone to the bearded instructor's voice, one could assume he held her to the highest regard.

The class, which consisted of 12 men and 12 women, grouped by twos, all greeted their future boss. They were in the middle of a battle exercise, where Riptide was showing his recruits how to properly body slam somebody. However, when Midas stepped in behind her, the teacher visibly tenses up to which Jules gives him a curt smile as if to reassure him that all was well.

“This is my older brother, Midas. He will be working under The Authority now. He will collect any mission files you give him, as well as answer any questions you may have during your time in this agency.” Jules explains to the class.

“Hello everyone, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Midas greets, bowing respectfully.

Of course, the girls in the class were trying to contain their excitement, all except for one. Midas made immediate eye contact with the quiet girl, eyebrows raised with mild surprise. He was usually used to every girl fawning over him. She seemed disinterested, just nodding her head at him in acknowledgment.

Curious… he figures, clearing his throat towards his sister, “Shall we continue with the tour, doll?” he asks Jules, who nods and says her goodbyes along with good luck to the class.

The girl’s eyes never left Midas though. Her gaze followed, almost like she was curious but also not interested in the hype about him. He gave her a curt smile and a nod before following his sister out, to which the girl sighs and rolls her eyes after his departure.

Jules continued the tour by showing Midas where he would be working which was a decent sized office space with a big desk and dual monitor set up. There was enough space on the desk to put nice decorations.

Shame, Midas thinks to himself, I don’t have any of my belongings.

“Oh and,” Jules pulls Midas out of his thoughts, “We can provide decorations if needed. I know you’re picky but you could always gold coat them if it’ll make it more bearable for you.”

Midas shrugs, “it's fine, I’ll make do with what I have.”

“Well, the last stop is your room. It’ll be far away from the other agents, mainly for your safety. You’ll get a keycard similar to the ones you gave your agents, which only you will have access to your room, plus the authorized areas you’ll need access to as well.” She motions in front of herself so he can walk ahead.

Two flights of stairs later and Midas lost his breath at the top of the stairs, at the sight before him. This area was the dormitory, with its halls beautifully decorated with gunmetal wallpaper, along with a furry black carpet. Near the stairs, he sees a sign that says, “No food or water in the hallway, please preserve the carpet.”

“Do people follow this sign?” he asks, actually chuckling to himself that a sign of this caliber had to be placed.

“No, but I believe it’s not a problem so long as I don’t see it. We kept that sign up for Chaos Agent when he was still alive, as he did monthly inspections. So no, no one follows the rules here, Midas. Just don’t get caught, simple as that.” She replies as she leads him down another long hallway.

Towards the end of the long hallway, there was a door. Jules swipes her keycard and when the door beeps, she opens the door, revealing a presidential suite type room. Midas stopped in his tracks when he saw exactly how big it was.

Though empty, the room had a lot of space. This included a walk-in closet and a walk-in bathroom, the bathroom is a bonus for Midas because he sure didn’t feel like risking his life every night here to go across the hall just to pee.

Jules pats his arm, “Just because things are bad right now, doesn’t mean I’ll treat you any less than family.”

Midas gives her a small smile, his heart swelling up slightly at that.

A knock on the door gets both sibling's attention. Two henchmen stood in the doorway, holding boxes.

Jules politely excuses herself, leaving Midas to take in the room some more. He could hear them murmuring and whispering to one another before Jules takes one of the boxes with a kind smile and guides the henchmen away.

I don’t understand why she’s being so nice to me, Midas thinks with a slight frown, I don’t even deserve this act of kindness, especially from her.

He stops trying to think about it, he’s not here to make amends with her. But his mind insisted on thinking about it. He’s here to get back what he rightfully deserves. His empire that crumbled too early. It has always been this way. Don’t take anyone’s kindness, you never know what their true intentions are until you’re too far in, was a quote he learned while growing up. His father was a good example of this, his constant reminder towards Midas that he owed him everything, simply because he brought him into the world.

What about Jules? A question formed in his head, she was never told she owed father anything at all. It was always me.

He ends up reacting angrily by putting his hand against the wall, the area around his hand turning into solid gold. Every wall of the room followed suit until the room was all shiny gold. This included the floor, the door, the closet, and the bathroom.

She is so, so lucky she never has to be me, and that’s what angers me the most, his mind seethes.

Midas, still angry, heads back to his new office. He wanted to get a feel for it, maybe even add a golden touch to it. As he used a temporary keycard to get in, his eye lands on 2 boxes on the desk with his name on it. He approaches the desk, curiosity getting the best of him. Inside the boxes were a lot of his belongings, some damaged by the water, but the rest were in decent condition because of the gold touch.

Reaching into the box, his anger was replaced by a sudden pang of sadness in his stomach. He pulled out a picture frame of his old agent team. Skye, Meowscles, and Maya, the ones he was the closest to. They were all posed for some goofy picture they took at Retail Row a few months before the disaster. The water had damaged the photo, making Midas’ face look warped and distorted, while the rest of the photo was in pristine condition. He frowns at this, but the pang in his stomach only grew more when he pulled out a folded note with some water damage. He figured he wouldn’t be able to make out the words on it because of the water, but opened it anyway, curiosity piquing his interest.

Midas,

By the time you have received this or find it or whatever, I’ll already be gone. I want to say thank you first and foremost for raising me all these years. You found me when I was only 11 years old. You weren’t much older than me and I still looked up to you as a brother. You gave me hope when nobody else did, and that is why I need to write this. Your selfish actions involving the Doomsday Device has left a trauma that will never heal. How could you be so selfish, Midas? Why did you think using that device would be a good idea? I know you had good intentions—you wanted to end the chaotic storm once and for all and you figured that device would be the solution. It wasn’t, because many people died. People lost their homes, jobs, anything and everything you could think of. I risked my life to protect you, just so you could activate that fucking thing and now I see that it wasn’t worth it. Don’t try to look for me, because you won’t find me. I’ve gone far away. There will be no point in sending someone to make sure I’m okay because there is nobody left. They all died with the flood. The flood you caused. You did all you could to help me, and I, you. To think, we could have celebrated my 17th birthday had you not set off that device. I’m sorry if this has come off harsh or it is too long and you don’t have the patience to read it. I love you very much, but you have caused such deep pain for me that I fear you. I truly fear you. I thought I knew everything about you but it seems like I don’t. Do you feel any remorse for what you’ve done? I beat myself up for thinking like that, thinking that the man I looked up to as my father could be a cold-hearted murderer, but that’s all I can think of. That’s why I’m writing this to you. I don’t know where Maya, Meowscles, or Tina are. They may feel differently about you as well.

I don’t wish any ill-like things to happen to you, but you will be alone if you continue to act the way you do. Whether or not you leave the island and make a new life for yourself, that’s your choice. I know I promised I’d stay by your side forever because that’s what friends do, but I can’t live with myself doing that for you. I hope one day you open your eyes and realize what a monster you’ve become, and that you can fix yourself before you end up alone forever. Nothing is worse than being in a room full of people and still feeling so alone.

Goodbye, Midas. You did so much for me, and I’ll always appreciate that.

-Skye

Midas didn’t even realize his hands were shaking violently as he read the note. Every word brought pain to him as if he was shot. He didn’t notice he had turned everything in that box to gold until he had thrown it at the adjacent wall, causing a loud crash.

“How could you be so appreciative of me and then turn around and call me a monster?!” He yells to nobody in particular.

Tears clouded his gold eye but he tried his hardest to not cry.

“Crying is for the weak, and I’m not weak.” He tells himself, clenching his golden fists tightly.

Stop showing emotions, you fucking coward, a voice in his mind scolded him.

Midas bitterly snorts, “I will.”

Take back what is yours and rebuild your empire. Kill anyone who gets in the way. You have nothing to lose, after all. Jules doesn’t care about you, if she did, she would have left you alone instead of exposing you to this shit, the voice sounds almost taunting to him.

He tries to take deep breaths in an attempt to calm down and ignore the whispers drilling in his head, but the voices became the only thing he could hear. He couldn’t hear his breathing.

You will rebuild a new agency. You just need to overthrow Jules. There are a lot of agents here with potential. Those who do not join—well, you could always make new statues.

He wasn’t going to let another person cross him again. While he loved Skye like a sister, the feeling of betrayal was strong right now. She assisted him with this device and she wants to turn around and make him out to be the monster? If she felt that way about him… how about Meowscles, Maya, and Tina? Perhaps that’s why there’s no letter from them. They couldn’t face him, while Skye could stand up to him. Perhaps Skye spoke up for them.

Never again. He won’t make the same mistake twice.

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treatian · 4 years

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: The Dark Curse

Chapter 150: How the New Story Begins

Trouble, trouble, trouble. He hoped that all this trouble wasn't an indication of life once the Savior finally came into his own; naturally, not by some fluke of magic.

He'd given them a simple task; one simple task. Go into the castle, dance the night away, be sure that Snow White stole the ring, that David knew it was her, and the timeline was back on track. How they'd managed to screw it up as immensely as they had was remarkable. And yet-not.

Not when he remembered that he'd trusted Hook to it all. He'd watched the entire thing, sometimes in sound through one of the mirrors and other times within his crystal ball, and sometimes he'd needed to use the cauldron as well! But he still couldn't figure out how they'd gotten it so wrong and yet…so right. Or at least close to right. Probably because the parts that were right they'd barely had a hand in.

The pair went to the ball, just as they were supposed to. They danced, they watched Prince Charming, and all the while he'd watched Snow White climb the walls of the towers in his cauldron at the same time.

She'd found the ring, stolen it just in time for the False Prince to enter his chambers and find her stealing it. They'd had a brief interaction in which he'd seen her face, and he was certain that was all there was too it. He'd almost thought to stop watching and summon the pair to him right then and there…until Abigail had entered the chamber and began crying out. Regina, who attended the ball appropriately enough, had gotten word, so had Hook and the Swan who stupidly rushed off to help the Princess that he was certain didn't need help. She'd been well on her way to escape when the pair had intervened unnecessarily. The Savior had been captured. But not before she realized that in the chaos of the heist, Snow White had dropped the ring.

He could have cried out in anger and beat his head against a wall because he knew that he could have done a better job in half the time and not ended up in Regina's dungeon. For a moment he did consider helping the Savior, but something told him it was best to let the girl go, to not intervene, and let her save herself. His mother's wand was powerful, very powerful indeed. While he was waiting for something to happen over the next day or so he'd done some more researching on his mother's wand, making sure that he could use it to get the pair back to their own time. After all, they'd caused enough trouble, as soon as this was over, it was best for everyone involved if they got back to where they belonged. But in his investigation, he'd stumbled upon something that he hadn't planned on. According to legend, it could recreate magic, but only magic that had been used by the welder. He'd never traveled back in time before; he'd never experienced the portal that the Swan and the Captain had, ergo, he could not open the portal to get them home. But they could.

Or rather, she could.

She was strong enough, he could sense that easily enough, and all his digging into the magic on True Love told him that if she was who she said she was, then she would have all the magic required to open the portal that had brought her here and get herself and the pirate back to where they belonged. There was only one problem, he hadn't seen her do a single bit of magic since she'd been in the Enchanted Forest. In fact, she seemed downright put off by any situation that involved it. Magical, but refusing to use it? Or incapable?

He had the thought that being in such a precarious position with Regina might help him answer that. True, his glamour spell would have taken away her magic, but if she was the Savior, the Product of True Love, then her magic was a unique thing. There might not be anything that could stop it. Regina wasn't one to fool with these days. For helping Snow White escape, the Evil Queen wouldn't care if she did claim she was a princess, she'd be executed. And if she had read that book that she'd claimed once held the past she would be well aware of that. He'd hoped that would push the Swan to do what she could with her power. He'd been wrong. He watched throughout the night as she shared a morsel with another prisoner, then settled against a cell wall, twirling and twirling and twirling the ring that should have been with Snow White by now, around her finger, staring into nothing. She'd been removed from her fine clothes, put back into a thin peasant's dress and blue cloak that didn't appear to hold in heat. But the Savior wasn't where the story was. That was back in Midas' land.

Unaware of the weight of what had happened, he watched as David spent the night out, tracking and plotting in the unfamiliar forest, searching for something in a way he might search for a lost sheep. And the pirate was always there, one step behind him, watching safely in the distance, out of the way. And one step ahead of David…the Princess Snow White.

It was a shame she hadn't gotten away with his ring, for it appeared he had caught a bug for the woman. If she hadn't dropped the ring on the way out, this meeting would have been all they needed, and he could have summoned the Savior and Hook back to leave. Instead, he watched as David tracked Snow White down, one step behind until he suddenly veered off track and set up a trap in the woods so obvious he was certain that she'd never fall for it…until she stepped right inside of it. And that was the moment Hook chose to reveal himself.

He cursed himself for not sending Pirithous out, in fact, he cursed himself for it all day as the trio exchanged words, Snow White fell to the ground with a slice of David's sword, and Hook bought two horses and a cart with money that was once the Prince James'. The trio traveled together all day into the Queen's territory, and he could see David and Snow talking. Oh, how he longed to summon Pirithous and find out why! But after watching David before the bird was already suspicious. He didn't need him asking more questions, he didn't need to make more memory potion for him as well, and he didn't need for him to know so much of David's life or anything of the future.

Once they arrived and the castle was in their sights but still far enough away to be outside the guard of the Evil Queen, Snow left the pair, and David and Hook sat in the woods together, talking and making a fire. He didn't need Pirithous to know what was being said. In a way, he didn't need to know. Wanted to know, certainly, but need? All he needed was to see the Swan freed, he needed her to use her magic, and get back to this place so he could get them home and take a memory potion.

But that night, so many things happened all at once; it was difficult to keep track of them. Snow fetched Red. Red went to find Hook and David in the woods. She transformed into a wolf to help them get past Regina's guard and into the castle. Their plan seemed simple enough to follow visually only. The wolf would appear. The guard would become distracted, fearing for his safety in her presence. And that was when David would appear and knock the guard off his feet into unconsciousness before the alarm could be raised.

He supposed their plan was to go all the way in and rescue the Swan, but it would never come to pass. There was no need. The Swan was busy rescuing herself, much to his displeasure, without magic. It would have taken a witch or wizard five seconds to break free of the lock that Regina had placed on the door. It had taken her an entire day, but only because it had taken her so long to figure out she could use some spare bit of wire to pick the lock. And much to his disappointment, she brought a friend. One that he recognized.

'Twas Maid Marian. Robin Hood's wife, who he had last seen very, heavily pregnant. Apparently, she'd had the baby, and counting the months from the time he'd last seen her, she'd soon after become prisoner of none other than Regina. It almost made him laugh. He couldn't wait for Regina to explain that to the man that the Seer called "her heart" in the future. But that was a laugh for another time, once the present was sorted out and the future back on track. For now, he continued his vigil.

By the time the two groups ran into one another, his head was already spinning. When he finally found Snow White, he thought he was going to be sick. She had sent Red back to the boys for a reason, for as they made their great escape, she was sneaking into the castle, walking halls she hadn't graced in years not since her father died. There was a confrontation, one in which the Princess attempted to use unmistakable Black Fairy dust against his pupil. Regina's magic prevailed where the princesses didn't. Between the cauldron and the mirror, he watched as Snow was led away to her execution. A pyre was built.

He summoned his magic as she was led to the pike and tied to it, preparing to fix this, to summon the Princess away should it be necessary. The Prince and the Princess had met, if he saved her, then it might be enough for them to meet again. There didn't need to be a ring involved. But just as Regina threw a fireball at her feet, which exploded, he watched as the girl opened her hands and an unmistakable shimmer interrupted the fire for a brief second. A moment later, he saw a spark that had nothing to do with the fire pitch itself out of the flames. More black fairy dust. She'd saved herself by becoming a bug and then flown away.

There was still hope. He had a cure for Black Fairy dust around somewhere if she needed it. He could arrange for it to be used easily enough. As the rescuers, still shocked from thinking they'd just witnessed their mother, friend, and would be True Love perish in flame, left the building with the help of Hook and Marian, he prepared to be summoned. He prepared to take the cure and bring it to them and hunt her down himself to set it all right. But again, the need was not necessary. He tracked Snow White, just as he tracked the others back out into the forest where they made a fire and sat down to mourn, some of them unaware what they were really upset for. It was when the other three left the fire to unload something or other from the cart they'd ridden in on, and Hook and the Swan were alone, that it happened. They put it together before she found them, the look on the Savior's face just before she crept up on them told him that. But eventually, a ladybug rested upon her shoulder. In the next second, the other three had joined them. David was the next one to put it together, to cradle the precious bug in his hands, all before a familiar blue light came upon them. He would never be ecstatic to see the Blue Fairy, but leave it to a Blue Bug to make a red one human again.

As the unknowing family and new friends hunkered down for the night, he collapsed into a chair himself. Watching, leaving a job that should have been his to someone else was more than stressful. He'd barely moved all day, but he felt like he'd lived through it all right there with them. It wasn't nearly as simple as he would have done it, but it was done. David and Snow had met. He crossed his fingers that it was enough to set things straight.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Belle #Captain Swan #Emma Swan #Killian Jones #Captain Hook #Snowing #Prince Charming #Snow White #Little Red Riding Hood #Regina #Evil Queen #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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lilacmoon83 · 5 years

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Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 116: Calm Before the Storm

Emma parked the squad car and James pulled up in his behind her. They got out and went into the Rabbit Hole, straight into an all out brawl.

"Oh crap…" Emma complained.

"Well...you first," James told his twin.

"Why me?" David asked.

"Well...you're the famed dragon slayer and the man that's been boasted as the one that easily defeated Blackbeard to rise to glory. This is right up your alley," James replied.

"You're never going to let that glory thing go, are you?" David argued. James smirked.

"Nope...get in there, baby brother," he joked.

"We're twins," David reminded.

"I'm seven and a half minutes older than you, according to mother," James argued.

"Seriously?" David argued back.

"Dad...we don't really have all day. Just be careful though. You know how much Mom will fuss if I take you back to her all scraped up," Emma said. David gave his daughter an incredulous look and she shrugged.

"He's not wrong. You have the reputation of the best swordsman in all the United Realms," she reminded. He rolled his eyes and unsheathed his sword, before jumping into the fray.

"You know...you're a good swordsman too. You could help," Emma told him.

"Nah, this is more fun," James retorted and she shook her head.

"You're terrible to him sometimes, you know that right?" she asked.

"I have twenty some years of giving him a hard time to make up for," he replied. The drunks stupidly tried to swing at David, some even with knifes, but they were no match for his skills, even if they had been sober. He grabbed the first one by the arm and tossed him into a table, while another picked up a chair in an attempt to hit him with it. He was obviously too drunk to realize what kind of sentence that attempting to assault a King would come with, but David was quick to duck and tossed him onto the now broken table with the other man. The pile of drunken thugs continued to grow, as David made quick work of them and soon had them all lined up, ready to be cuffed, which Emma and James proceeded to do.

"Oh...are you actually going to help for a change?" David asked, as he sheathed his sword.

"That's what we employ Knights for," James retorted, as Lancelot and several other Knights arrived to take them to the Sheriff's station, which was much larger now, to process them. Shortly after Snow and David took their Thrones, they decided that Storybrooke's Sheriff's station was now much too small to handle the justice system of the United Realms. But they wanted it to remain the hub of criminal defense in the United Realms, so they allocated the funds to build an addition to it, as well as an actual prison next door. Up until then, long term prisoners had been housed in the basement level of the hospital, which would not suffice any longer.

The Knights that David, James, and Lancelot had trained in the last three years were extremely impressive and noticed by all the other Kingdoms. There was talk that the Knights they had trained were even more impressive than King Arthur's famed Knights of the roundtable, something Lancelot personally knew would be a point of contention for his former liege. Arthur had remained fairly silent though. He attended the United Realms council meetings and participated in a minimal capacity, while largely remaining mysterious to mostly everyone. Lancelot knew the reasons, but since Arthur had not made any aggressive movements, the Knight had chosen to let him keep his secret, until the time that changed.

"A little above your pay grade, don't you think?" Lancelot teased David, as his Knights marched the drunks responsible for the brawl. David shrugged.

"Emma got the call and you know I can't help myself," he joked. Lancelot smiled.

"You never put yourself above the people. That's why you are the leader you are," the Knight said, as he left to take care of those they had placed under arrest. David was always humbled by Lancelot's respect for him and was well aware of his falling out with his former King. Arthur had done much to let Lancelot down it seemed, though David had no inkling of what exactly had happened between them, other than it involved Queen Guinevere. But by the ever present tension between them, it was clear that it went beyond that. David never pried though and Lancelot never offered details. With them, Lancelot had a new start and they allowed him that.

"My bar is in shambles!" the owner complained.

"And you know the procedure. Submit the damages to the United Realms insurance bureau and the damages will be covered," David offered to appease him.

"Yeah...and maybe consider some new security tactics or watering down your booze. This place seems to be a constant source of trouble," Emma added.

"Oh, I don't know...I find it a perfectly fine place, but then a girl like me is always drawn to chaos," a voice purred. They turned and found Cruella De Vil sitting at a booth, sipping a cocktail.

"You always get a show here...and then I can always count on a very attractive line of men to come in to rectify the situation," she added, as she looked the twin brothers with a feral gleam.

"Oh yes...now that is a such a pretty sandwich that I'd love to be in between," she purred, as she licked her lips.

"Oh my God…" Emma complained at her blatant sexual innuendo.

"Oh yes Dahlings...the fun we could have," she continued, as her eyes undressed them both.

"Hard pass," David retorted, as he started to leave.

"It's too bad...I knew he'd never go for it. But I had hope for you when I first learned you were back. The bad twin...think of all the fun we could have had and the chaos we could have created. A pity you've gone soft," Cruella purred in his ear.

"You're not my type," James refuted. She cackled at that.

"Oh, but I used to be…" she reminded.

"I've changed, as has my wife...but not that much. Hands off or she'll fry you and this monstrosity you're wearing," he warned, but that just seemed to thrill her more.

"Do you like it? I just had it made and I'm already scouting for my next," she boasted.

"Poaching is illegal and if we catch you killing innocent creatures just to use their pelts, I throw you in prison myself," James warned. She pretended to pout.

"It would almost be worth it to be put in handcuffs by you," she leered.

"I mean it, Cruella…" he warned again, as he followed his niece and his brother out. There was a time that Cruella's lust and praise of him would have been very attractive, but he had come a long way in three years. He still had moments where he felt inferior to David and his twin had the golden reputation and glory he had thought he wanted and still sometimes did. But he had come to love his brother, as well and their parents. He had the family he had always wanted, deep down, and would never throw love away to be with someone like Cruella; a woman he was certain was incapable of love. He had love now, with a woman that was much like him. They had both wanted to be good and had been molded into monsters; him by his abusive adopted father and Regina by her mother. But they had sought redemption and walked the difficult path back to the light. Together, they had found love and neither of them was letting it go for anything.

"This meeting of the Council of the United Realms will come to order," Persephone announced.

David heard those words, as he, Emma and James entered the chamber just in time, as the meeting was brought to order. He took his seat next to Snow and kissed her cheek, as he sat down.

"Let's get this meeting underway then. No one wants to sit here and watch you two and your incessant public displays of affection," Ravenna snapped in irritation.

"Well, then why don't you start us off, Queen Ravenna. What efforts have you made in the last month to improve the lives of your people?" Persephone questioned.

"Oh you're going to love that, aren't you? Because my Kingdom is struggling and your daughter's is thriving, you make it your mission to point it out every single time," Ravenna complained.

"Your Kingdom is struggling, because your people are being unfairly taxed, yet your treasury is empty," Persephone stated.

"Which would warrant an investigation into your Kingdom's finances, because it screams fraud," Regina added.

"The only fraud here is this joke of Council! I have never been treated fairly and it's because of her," Ravenna claimed, as she glared at Snow.

"Your perception is not reality, Queen Ravenna. While you claim unfair treatment, you turn a deaf ear to your people cries for help. You must improve the state of your Kingdom or you will force others to step in," Persephone warned.

"Such would be an act of war!" Ravenna claimed.

"No...it would be an act of mercy on your people at this point. You're staring down the barrel of a full revolt in your Kingdom if you do not make changes," James argued.

"Says the Prince that was raised to be a tyrant," Ravenna retorted.

"With the difference being that my brother changed and rose above that raising. All you can seem to focus on is your hatred for my wife," David snapped.

"And I always will," Ravenna promised, as she glared at them.

"As usual, this is getting us no where. Queen Ravenna...you've been warned about the condition of your Kingdom. Now to move on to other matters," Persephone announced, while Ravenna silently seethed.

"If we're going to discuss monetary matters, then perhaps we should discuss all the funds that are constantly eaten up by all the advancement in Storybrooke," Midas interjected. Abigail sighed.

"Father…" she chided.

"It's okay Abigail...we have put a lot of our joint Kingdom's funding into the ongoing projects in Storybrooke. The community center has been finished for a year now and it's a huge asset the entire United Realms. And the University is on schedule to be ready for fall semester in just a few months time," Snow announced proudly.

"The education reform of this is unprecedented. I've already had many approach me about enrollment," Elsa confirmed.

"And the community center classes and events are always fully booked," Anna added.

"Yes...and the Community Center also offers counseling for addiction, victims of crime or abuse, and many other topics. It's giving battered women and their children a place to go as well," Snow added.

"Yes...you've been on quite a crusade to shut down my business, but I assure you that it won't happen now that I've moved it to Lord Cronus' Kingdom," Deimos interjected, as he sat beside King Cronus.

"Only because he has chosen not to outlaw brothels," Snow retorted distastefully. Deimos smirked.

"And many other Kingdoms still have them as well. I'm now just one in a sea of many and while you may have outlawed them in your Kingdom and Storybrooke, fairest Snow...you do not have the pull to do so in any others," he retorted.

"You exploit young women," she spat.

"I employ them," he argued.

"You make me sick," she hissed, but he only smirked.

"And you're still as fiery as ever. It's too bad I never got the opportunity to tame you," he leered, causing David to nearly launch himself across the room.

"Enough…" Hades bellowed.

"Lord Cronus...if your right hand insists on speaking to our daughter in such a manner then he will be banned from this and any future meetings," he warned, as his father glared at him.

"Of course...Lord Hades. It won't happen again," Cronus assured.

"Well, as usual, the financials are a point of contention. Perhaps we'll do better in discussing defense," Persephone stated.

"Crime in our Kingdoms and Storybrooke is down forty percent," David reported.

"Yes, which is impressive. Your methods and training techniques are being adopted by many Kingdoms," she stated.

"That's nothing...crime is almost non-existent in Paris," Frollo boasted.

"And your prisons are filled with innocent people," David interjected, as he glared at the unjust ruler.

"Then by all means, King Charming, why don't you come blazing in to liberate the souls you say are innocent and take them to your Kingdom. I'm sure that will keep crime low," he retorted. David seethed and glared at the bigot, but took the high road, as he felt Snow put her hand on his.

"I won't need to. The harsher you rule your people, the angrier they will become and when they revolt...you'll get some of that justice you're always spouting about," he warned.

"You and yours have made it quite clear that you disapprove of my rule, but there is money in my treasury and food in the stomachs of my people. There is more than one way to rule," he retorted.

"However, if you want to speak of a spike in crime...then perhaps you should look to Camelot," he interjected, as the attention turned to Arthur and his Queen.

"Camelot is secure...I'll admit that there has been a spike in crime, but the Knights of the Roundtable, the most valiant Knights in the United Realms are working to quell the increase in violence," Arthur stated sternly.

"Word has it that the Knights of the Roundtable is a dying order. If anything, King Charming's Knights are far superior to yours these days," Frollo argued, as he attempted to stir the pot, as usual.

"Misthaven has no quarrel with Camelot. Crime happens everywhere and I assume this small spike is just one of those things. Am I right, Your Majesty?" David questioned. Arthur looked nervous, but the other King didn't let on like he noticed and it made the wielder of Excalibur wonder what, if anything, his father-in-law might have told him about his Kingdom.

"It would appear so, King David and the situation is being handled," Arthur confirmed, as they thankfully moved on, as a few other matters were discussed, until Persephone finally dismissed the weekly meeting. Ravenna stormed out, while Frollo casually followed her.

"This trip we're about to take better yield results," she hissed to him.

"It is a promising endeavor, I assure you," he replied.

"It better be!" she snapped.

"Because I want that little brat to suffer at my hand and there to be nothing her stupid mother can do to stop her demise," Ravenna growled.

"Then we had better be on our way to the Harbor," he responded.

"Well...that wasn't very productive, but I guess I knew what to expect," Snow mentioned, as he led her out with his arm around her.

"Perhaps not...but you're a tough act to live up to," he mused. She smiled.

"So are you...saying you and your Knights are superior to even the Knights of the Roundtable. David...that's incredible," she gushed. He kissed her hair.

"I want my family to have the best protection and our people deserve the same as well," he agreed humbly.

"Do you need to get back to the station right away?" she asked. He smirked.

"I think Emma and Lancelot can handle things for a while and my parents have the babies. I'd say you and I could enjoy a romantic walk," he replied, as he offered her his elbow and she hook her hand on it, as he led her out.

Killian Jones hurriedly made his way to the Harbor, spotting his ship or rather the ship he had given up to Mr. Smee three years ago. Upon arrival in this new magical forest, he had sought an item he had heard could be used to trap someone. He had planned to find this item and then return to Storybrooke in order to use it on his nemesis: the crocodile.

Upon reaching the tower where this golden flower was rumored to be, he instead found a young woman trapped there. Entranced by her beauty, he promised to free her and they slept together. But when he awoke that morning, he discovered that the young woman was not what she appeared to be and rather was an evil sorceress that had used him to conceive a child. With her magic, she had accelerated the pregnancy and gave birth, allowing the baby to take her place in the enchanted tower. He was shocked and appalled that the witch, whom called herself Gothel, abandoned the baby without a thought. But he could not do that. Despite the terrible deeds that littered his past, he could never leave his own child to suffer. His own father had done so to him and he would be damned if he did so to her. So he stayed and took care of his daughter, as suddenly he had something more important than revenge. She became everything to him and was his pride and joy, allowing him to finally let his revenge go. Alice was his world now and so when the witch return to try and poison his heart to take her away, he had managed to trick her and escape. He knew she would be after him, but he knew if he could get to Storybrooke, that he could ask for protection. He knew he had done a lot of things they didn't like, but he was positive that Snow and David would help him for the sake of his child.

"Mr. Smee…" Hook called and the portly man looked up in surprise.

"Captain!" Smee said, pleasantly surprised.

"I need a ride to Storybrooke, post haste. Care to help your former Captain out?" he asked. Smee smiled.

"Of course Captain...of course. Whose the kid?" he asked. Killian smiled.

"She's my daughter, Mr. Smee," he announced proudly, as the three-year-old in his arms looked shy and buried her face in her father's shoulder.

"Your daughter?" Smee asked in surprise.

"Much has changed, Mr. Smee and it is not safe here for us any longer. I'm taking her to Storybrooke," Killian replied.

"Of course...we'll set sail right away," Smee agreed, as they boarded the ship and set off across the ocean.

Greg sighed in frustration, as they watched Henry at school.

"We've been watching this kid all day...he's never alone. This is impossible," Greg complained.

"Then maybe we need a different target," Landon responded.

"Like who?" Greg asked.

"What about the blonde Sheriff?" Landon replied. Greg's eyes widened.

"Emma Swan? Queen Snow and King Charming's daughter? That blonde Sheriff?" Greg asked, looking at him like he had grown three heads.

"Why not? What better target to cause panic and lure all the of the major players out of Storybrooke?" Landon questioned.

"Think about it. We get Emma Swan and we for sure will lure her parents and Regina out since the former Evil Queen is not married to her Uncle. We get her husband, which means we'll get Rumpelstiltskin as well. And we'll likely get Hades and Persephone as well," he continued.

"But there is magic here...and Emma Swan has a ton of it," Greg reminded.

"But we have this," Landon reminded, as he held up the cuff. Greg smirked.

"You're right and once we lure them all outside...there's no magic for any of them to use. Not even Persephone and Hades will have power in New York," he agreed.

"Exactly. We take her there and introduce her to all the interested parties on the dark web that went wild over our video and then the rest of them will walk right into the thick of it," Landon said.

"Okay...but getting Emma Swan won't be easy either," he warned.

"Easier than getting the kid though. The next time she responds to a call alone...we'll be waiting to ambush her," Landon said. Greg nodded. This was it. Once he lured them all out of Storybrooke, they would get a confession out of Regina and get the attention of the FBI. Then any fringe groups that had believed their video would surely pay them handsomely for the rest of them.

"There's my babies…" Snow cooed, as she and David met his parents outside Granny's that evening.

"Mommy!" Xander called, as he toddled to her. She scooped him up and they both kissed his head, as their baby reached for David upon seeing him.

"And there's my tiny angel," he cooed to her, as he took her in his arms and kissed her head. Snow leaned over to kiss her as well. It may have only been a few hours since they had seen them, but they missed their babies fiercely.

"Did you have fun with Grandpa Robert and Nanas Ruth and Sera?" Snow cooed.

"Uh huh," Xander answered. The three of them smiled.

"As usual, they kept us on our toes," Sera said fondly.

"But we love every minute of it," Ruth added.

"Yeah...I'd say we definitely have the best job in all the United Realms," Robert agreed, as Emma arrived with Neal, Henry, and baby Tallie. Snow's three parents gathered with them next and finally Gold and Belle arrived with Gideon, as they planned to go into Granny's. Neal happened to turn and see someone that none of them had seen in three years in the street though.

"Hook?" he questioned, a bit apprehensively at first. He then relaxed as he spotted the little girl in his arms.

"Hello mate...it seems I'm not the only one that things have changed for," he replied.

"Is she yours?" Snow asked curiously. Killian smiled at the blonde child in his arms.

"She is. This is Alice and I've come back here to make a life for her. It's a bit of a long story, but I think Storybrooke is the ideal place to raise her...unless I'm unwelcome," he replied.

"That depends...you still out for revenge on my father?" Neal asked.

"I gave up revenge when she was born. Has he?" Hook replied, as he looked at Gold.

"It seems we have both embraced a second chance," Rumple stated firmly. Snow looked at her husband and David looked at his father. Robert nodded, signaling that he had mostly put what Hook had done behind him as well. He had his second chance as well and wasn't going to deny such to another father.

"Then why don't you and your daughter join us for dinner. She will definitely have plenty of playmates," Snow stated. Hook nodded.

"Thank you," he agreed, as he followed them into the diner. The saying that time healed wounds may have been a myth, for it was love that healed those wounds and it seemed that Hook was now an example of how children changed everything for the better...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Swanfire #Rumbelle #AU #HadesxPersephone #Greek Mythology meets fairy tales #The United Realm #romance #adventure #family #dreaming out loud

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thesportssoundoff · 6 years

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Everybody is winning except us

Joey

October 7th

Of all of the ways this could've gone, I'm really surprised I didn't figure this would be the EXACT way it would go.

You can't predict Khabib going feet first into a melee outnumbered like 5 to 1, you can't predict Conor McGregor having a "Greedo shot first" moment by actually throwing the first punch (although in his defense, as he scales the cage, someone else is scaling it and I would've assumed anybody from Khabib's corner is going to be after me or my team at that point), you can't predict riots or a full on culture/nationalistic war.

You can always predict chaos in MMA. You can always predict the WORST CASE SCENARIO in this sport.

If you think of all the positive aspects from just the fight alone, you could be here for a while. Conor McGregor took two years off of MMA, came back to fight the scariest dude and had an actually not half bad performance given the stylistic match up, the rust factor and his natural shortcomings as a fighter (quick twitch high reflex muscle memory guy with poor cardio). If anything he could have/should have been applauded for taking the risk and we'd all be asking how a run back goes with an additional six-ish months of training. For Khabib, he once again answered another litany of questions and for the most part aced the toughest test of his career. For the UFC, they put on a tremendous fight card without a hitch, made massive money and set themselves up for another run of successful fights for both guys including a rematch. Everything could've been positive.

But this is MMA. The Worst Case Scenario more often than not will rear its ugly head at the most inopportune time. There's no point in step by stepping anybody through the brawl. What's done is done, what happened happened and everybody and anybody has their opinions on it. We all gain nothing from replaying it over and over. It's more about how we leave this entire fiasco with perceived egg on the faces of everyone involved.

I feel like we have to begin with Khabib Nurmagomedov because at the end of the day, he's the guy here who took this entire joke to the next level. You can't go and fight dudes at the cageside area. That's basic common sense stuff. The problem is that this isn't the first time Khabib has been involved in utter tripe before and maybe this is just who he is. To me, nobody has had their public perception hurt the way he has over the past few weeks from the homeless guy push ups to the presser comments to the open work out fiasco. If "gotten to" is a deal then Khabib epitomized it this entire weekend. Even his brief press conference was a trainwreck as he went from contrition for his behavior to wondering why it was a big deal and dare I even say, attempting the tried and true Whataboutisms that ultimately lead down a road to nowhere. It takes great skill to talk for a minute and reveal you still don't quite get why you're going to be a in a world of trouble.

Now if you believe in the receipt then Conor McGregor's been way overdue for one. This is an act that's spiraled out of control since his KO of Jose Aldo (and perhaps maybe even a bit before that happened) with an eventual "Oh Shit" coming at some point. You don't continually win in shit situations of your own making before something eventually backfires on you (unless you're Jon Jones) and Conor's last two years have exposed the very worst of the act. The Andre Fili/Artem Lobov situation, the Bellator incident, bar fights, speeding tickets of a dangerous sort, the ENTIRE Mayweather-McGregor fight lead up, the bus incident and the presser that was basically a collection of "Too far!" material in an already "Too far!" situation. Conor's gone for it on 4th down a lot recently and every situation he's either scored or gotten a penalty bail out from the bad decision. Eventually those do catch up with you and here we are now. Again, the erosion of SBG; it's image as a gym full of average dudes accomplishing great MMA shit evolving into the world's biggest collection of fake McGregor's has to be mentioned. What do you do when King Midas' left hand turns everything to gold but his right hand turns everything to shit?

Of course we can also bundle up everybody else into one neat and tidy paragraph here; the UFC for being a business first and not a common sense machine second. The bus attack was part of the story in my opinion and couldn't be neglected BUT somebody with a hint of common sense should've said "tone it down" to Conor and Khabib about religion, this that or the other thing. Instead they played it fast and loose, like they did/do with DC vs Jones, without realizing that Jones vs Cormier was a really personal rivalry about two people who for the most part kept it at two people. Hell taking it one step further, we can say that the UFC should've told Conor to tone it down in 2016 or 2017 or 2018. This is what happens when a fighter gains power and becomes TOO big to say to no to. You get this. Conor should've been told "No!" faaaar sooner than this. How about SBG and Khabib's cohorts who seemed to want to interject their asses into this as much as the two fighters themselves. We can also turn a sarcastic thumbs up to the majority of the MMA media; the ones who bloviated "Conor's back!" as he poured out his presser best but not once stopped to ask if maybe this whole religion/nationalism/family feud was going a bit too far. The same ones who refer to last night as a disgrace (which it was) without stopping once along the way to ask if we were heading into this situation by virtue of nobody wondering if this was spiraling. The ones who are SO reliant on MMA (and ergo the UFC and ergo Conor) to do well that they, like the UFC, allowed anything to go in the pursuit of the traffic. Lastly and perhaps most painfully? Us as fans. When the things that sell are always the worst, the bar is always raised. As consumers we have the ability to dictate what we receive and if what works is the dirt worst? Well that's on us, no? If we ascribe to the "We fight in a cage, nothing is bad for the sport" mantra then we wear this. We may not have asked for THIS specifically but that's neither here nor there because we've asked fore more of the bad shit. We ASKED for this.

And ya know the sick part? Everybody wins here really if you think about it. Assuming Khabib isn't suspended for life and incapable of getting back into the United States? He'll have a Conor McGregor rivalry for years to live off of. The same goes for Conor who has mastered the "losing the fights where you have an out" approach. Vs Nate? Well that was on two weeks notice at 170 lbs! Vs Floyd? First fight in boxing! This one? Two year layoff vs the world's greatest wrestler! Once Dana White gets over his personal shame and disappointment? The business man is going to make him realize that he'll have general wealth for every generation he's ever going to have with a Khabib vs Conor rematch. The folks decrying this as shameful will playfully bite their nails and play the "Who knows what's gonna happen!" gimmick at every presser, every face off and every single day leading up to the rematch. Those who shout about how "passionate" these fanbases are will continue to do so while also saying "they're not ALL like that!" when confronted with every social media clip of fans brawling and fighting outside the venue. Even Dillon Danis, a less self aware Robert Drysdale who fashions himself as a bootleg Conor McGregor, has basically made himself into a household name now. Everybody wins because so long as consumers want it? Business ALWAYS wins. That's the nature of the game. It's MMA at its dirt worst and there's perhaps no other place MMA shines then when it's at their dirt worst. Be it boxing or MMA, business booms at the dirt worst level. This is seemingly where the sport actually wakes up and decides to perform.

There are basically just two losers here really. The first is the lightweight division which sure looks like it's careening towards yet another stripped champion. And potentially yet another interim champion. And potentially yet another year of question or determining just what the hell is going with the most loaded weight class in sports with fighters stuck on a broken elevator that's going neither up nor down. We have the most blessed division in the history of this weird sport and right now we have a champion who's about to be suspended, a former champ who is probably going to chase "money fights" now and the real champion who seems one poorly timed stunt away from ripping everything on the lower half of his body. The world's most talented division is about to get its dick buried in the dirt again for no reason other than the guys at the top of the helm can't control themselves. The other loser? Those of us who cling to the hope that one day this sport won't be like this. At the end of the day, we need to stop assuming MMA's going to one day grow up and just resign ourselves to the knowledge that it is what it is. For those of us who believe this thing is going to clean itself up? Probably not happening. The idea that one day in the not too distant future fights will be able to sell on the basis of being great fights and we won't need to squeeze every bit of juice out of it by resorting to the dirt worst (be it DC referring to Jon Jones as a junkie, anything Colby Covington does or the latent ethnocentrism used to sell this feud) should be dead now. As much as we all want MMA to treat itself like a sport, what the people want---and seemingly what EVERYONE involved in this sport wants---is this. We built this sport on it and now we gotta own it. All sports have brawls/fracases but they're not the drawing point to drawing people in. We WANT this. We OWN this.

If you don't believe me, wait until Covington vs Woodley to confirm it all over again. Prepare yourself for the worst case scenario.

#MMA #UFC #UFC 229

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ganglylimbs · 6 years

Text

Golden Waste

Summary: Gavin has been trying to right a wrong for centuries now. He's been alone for that long. But one invitation to a mix match crew may change the view he has of the world.

Notes: The ever popular Midas! Gavin with various demi-god crew members. There's no pairing per say but I did write it with the mindset of pre-freewood, so take that what you will.

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When you kill your daughter, the first thing you do is change your name. Then you get on a boat and leave. You never look back. With your greed, you’ve taken the fall, the drop, and all you can do is hope. Hope that the ground is soft when you reach it.

Gavin steps into the vault. It is big and cold and dusty. A hole has been blown in one of the sides. He takes his time, searching for safety deposit box 21AA. He hums as he walks. If he felt like it, he would have sung loud and clear, let his voice bounce around the vault and out the hallway. There was no one there, after all, but him. Instead, he listened to the sound of his footsteps clicking against the concrete floors.

21AA looks like the rest of the safety deposit boxes, the only difference being that while the rest have been thrown open, this one is still tightly closed. Gavin stares at it for a long moment. He hates having to do these kinds of things. Hates moving. But it is time.

Los Santos is big, a place where Gavin had felt, once upon a time, that he could get lost in. Thousands of people crammed into one area, a grimy city succumbing to the high crime rates. There isn’t a day that went by that sirens didn’t constantly wail, a police force spread thin as they zip up and down the roads. The buildings are tall and imposing, gray as the sky on most days, the people are suspicious of every little move from fellow citizens. Almost everyone deals in blood of some sort and the whole city is held together by the rich and powerful crime lords that ran everything in the shadows.

Unfortunately for Gavin, it is more profitable for children to learn their lessons on the streets, which makes for poor school attendance. The Los Santos school district can’t afford to keep him working. No one wants to learn from history anymore. But Gavin figures that this is a sign. He’s lived here too long (a hundred years now, far longer than he had dared anywhere else).

This bank had been leveled the other day, a bank robbery gone right, taken down in a blast of explosion. The lobby is destroyed, and everything inside is taken. But 21AA has been left closed. It is mostly undamaged, except for scratches along the lock, where someone had tried to pry it open. At least he knows that his security measure still works. No one but him can get this door open.

Gavin takes off one of his gloves, letting the golden thing fall to the floor. With only the slightest hesitance, Gavin places his hand on the lock. At his touch, the lock begins to turn gold. It is slow going, smooth lines of gold creeping their way across the steel surface. Gavin steps back and watches. The gold spreads like flowing water, uncontainable as it engulfs the safety deposit box, and then keeps going. From experience, Gavin knows it won’t stop till the vault is covered. If he really wills it, it can spread to the entire building.

But Gavin isn’t here for that. He opens the box. Inside are papers, golden too though they had been gold long before this. Papers Gavin had gathered throughout his lifetime. Passports and identities, a few coins. Some photographs. A map and a letter. Everything that reminds Gavin about the hell he continues to live.

“Man, you’re a sad looking guy.”

Gavin whips around. In the doorway of the vault stands a man done up in a suit. He has shaggy black hair and sleepy brown eyes stare back at him. He is leaning against the vault, relaxed. Behind him stands another man, this one much taller and broader than the first. This one is dressed in leather, his muscular arms are crossed in front of his chest, his blond hair is pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes are two different colors. One green. One blue. While the man in the suit is smiling, the muscular man is scowling, lips pull back to show off his teeth.

Gavin takes a step back, eyes glancing to the side where the gold is still creeping across. Memories play in his head. People screaming, beatings, burning at the stake. No one reacts well when they realize what he can do.

The suited man chuckles. “Relax. I already know.” He tilts his head. “We’ve been watching you.”

Gavin finds his voice. “Well. That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

That gets him another chuckle. The man pushes off the wall, strolling towards Gavin, hands in his pocket. “My name is Geoff. Geoff Ramsey.”

Gavin freezes. Ramsey. Fuck. No meeting with Ramsey ends well for anyone. He swallows. “Gavin Free.”

Geoff nods. “See. We can be civil.” Gavin isn’t so sure that the gang leader has a civil bone in his body, but he isn’t about to say that. “So. Gavin.” His name is said mockingly. “I have a proposition for you.”

Gavin has a pretty good idea where this is going. “I’ll turn whatever you want to gold, enough to tide you over, but I have a plane to catch tomorrow. And I would really like to be on it.” He pauses for a moment. “Please?” Never hurts to use manners.

Geoff throws his head back, his howling laughter echoing around them. Gavin can hear the soft huffing laugh of the other man too. Gavin shivers at the sound. When Geoff looks at him again, his eyes are green, shinny in the dimming light. “I don’t want your gold. I’m offering you a job, Free.” He smiles wide, sharp teeth bared. “Or should I call you Midas?”

No one ever thinks about the fall when they wish to fly. You suppose there might be some freedom to it, but all you are aware of is the fear curling in your gut as the wind goes flying past. You can’t stop. Your arms are flailing, your legs are kicking. But there are is no stopping. Not till you go splat.

Gavin slinks through the penthouse he had been dragged too. A few weeks here and he still doesn’t feel that comfortable. The rest of the gang is nice, he supposes. You know, for a criminal syndicate that thrives on violence and chaos. Jack, the second in command, is friendly. Michael isn’t but is polite enough for a guy that likes to blow up stuff. Jeremy is curious, and Ray stays out of his way. Ryan, the muscular man that held guard at the bank with Geoff, is as silent as ever. It’s Geoff who pushes the interactions.

He doesn’t’ seem to get that a closed door means do not enter. He probably doesn’t as locks don’t seem to deter him. He just pops into Gavin’s room and starts talking.

“Hey, which do you do like more; chocolate or vanilla?”

“I hate both. Get out.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Gold. Obviously.”

“There’s no need to be sarcastic.” Geoff pouts at him. “Come on. You’ve been moping around long enough. Get a little lively here.”

Gavin brushes him off and goes to get something to drink. Geoff follows.

“You know, you haven’t taken your gloves off the entire time. Afraid of something?”

“Unless you want your whole place to turn gold, they stay on.”

“That would be pretty cool.”

Gavin doesn’t have an answer for that.

The rest of the gang is in the living room. Their chatter stops when Gavin appears. Gavin stands straight, sets his shoulders back and keeps his chin up. He can feel their eyes on him but does not turn. Geoff is close on his heels.

“How about dinner? I haven’t seen you eat anything since you got here.”

“I don’t eat.” It’s been a long time since he last had a meal-he thinks of the rations he snuck, deep in the trenches as the war went on around him. There’s nothing to food anymore that appeals to him. It is all very hollow.

“You’re kidding.” Geoff frowns at him. “Well, no wonder you’re such a grouch.” He bypasses Gavin, going deeper into the kitchen. Gavin watches, sipping on his cup of water, as Geoff starts to bring out pans. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ryan get up and leave. The others are still staring at him.

“What are you doing?” Gavin asks the room.

“I’m going to cook you a feast”

“Why?” Didn’t Gavin just tell him that he didn’t eat?

“I wouldn’t turn down Geoff’s cooking,” Jeremy advises from the couch. “It’s legendary.”

Gavin frowns at him before turning around. He starts to leave. “It’d be a waste of effort. I’m not eating it.”

Geoff snaps his fingers and Gavin falls to the floor. His legs feel weak, like newborn deer, and Gavin struggles to pick himself up. Geoff passes him, running his hand through Gavin’s hair. “See? You need to eat. Rebuild your strength.” Gavin can hear the smirk in Geoff’s voice.

Gavin scowls after him and refuses the help the others try to give him. He forgets, sometimes that no one in the room is exactly human. He crawls his way to the couch, at the farthest point from the others, in time for Ryan to arrive back with a large piece of meat. He sets it on the counter. Geoff and he set to work on it.

Gavin takes the time to observe the others. Jack has taken the form of a woman today, though they kept the beard of the man they were yesterday. They talk to Ray, who stays slouched and unblinking the entire time. Next to them, Michael and Jeremy talk, their language unknown. It’s deep and forbidding, like thunder made into words. Their voices hold a melody to them though that Gavin finds soothing.

When dinner is ready, and the table set, Gavin finds he can walk again. He does not embarrass himself by trying to run away. Instead, he takes a seat, back straight and chin high. The others are talking, about their day, about the news and Gavin reminds himself that this is the most feared gang in the city, pretending to be domestic. For the most part, he pushes his food around the plate.

It’s pork, cooked so tender, and potatoes. Gavin thinks again of his last meal-the rations, the trenches, how his toes had started to turn black, and the next second when a bomb goes off and for one blissful second he hadn’t existed anymore. He stares at the plate. His mouth remembers the taste of mud and death and blood and the dry hard rations. Hesitating for only a second longer, he takes a bite.

It’s overwhelming at first. His taste buds are screaming and his stomach cramps. But he forces it down and looks up. Meets Geoff’s eye.

Neither of them mentions that by the end, Gavin’s plate is completely clean.

“Get your coat. You are coming with us.”

Gavin knows an order when he hears one. He doesn’t disobey because he’s pretty sure Michael can break him in half.

They drive to meet Ray and Jeremy, miles outside the city, in an empty field. There are logs piled up, the two dowsing them in gasoline. At Gavin’s questioning look, Michael tells him “We’re going to have a bonfire. Maybe tell ghost stories.”

The fire burns brightly into the night. Michael and Jeremy do most of the talking. It’s clear to Gavin that Ray runs on his own time. Once, Michael had asked him a question and it took the other man five minutes to respond. Michael hadn’t seem put out by it.

Michael and Jeremy tell stories of a wild youth. Their voices take on a particular note, their eyes glaze over. They touch at old scars.

Gavin can’t help but tell a few of his own.

It’s Ray that asks. “I never see you use your gift.”

Gavin startles. Then he scowls. “That’s because it’s not a gift. Only a curse.”

Michael takes over questioning as Ray takes that in. He shrugs. “I guess it depends on how you look at it, yeah?”

Gavin turns his scowl towards him. “How can I look at it any other way?”

“You turn things to gold. What’s not to like about that?”

“I can no longer hold anything in my hand. Anything soft turns hard. Anything hot turns cold. I dare not hold another person. I’m forever stuck looking at gold .” Gavin spits out that last part.

Michael and Jeremy look at each other. “And?” Jeremy asks.

“And what?”

“Well, what are you doing about it?”

Gavin blinks at them. “Doing about it?”

“Yeah. You hate it so much, right? What are doing to get rid of it?”

Gavin takes a moment to think about that. “The Gods placed this curse on me for my greed. If I can prove I have changed, then maybe they will take it away.”

“And how’s that been going for you?”

Gavin draws his knees up to his chest. “Obviously, I haven’t tried hard enough.”

“Or maybe you’re trying too hard.” Jeremy shrugs.

Gavin has no answer to that. He stares into the fire as the two go back to talking. He looks over at Ray, who is staring at him, eyes completely black.

“Is there a difference between a curse and a gift?” He asks.

Gavin turns away from him.

Jack is standing outside his door. They’re a young child and when Gavin looks closer, he can see wrinkles around their eyes and mouth. There are gray hairs mixed in with the black.

He likes Jack. They don’t push him and can tell when he’s had enough, helping him escape the others when he wants to be alone. They smile at Gavin and wave him out of his room. “The others are out at on deal. Ray went back to his realm to deal with some things. Want to play some games?” They tilt their childlike head and give Gavin a wide smile.

Gavin follows them.

There is a game console set up in the living room, a racing game on the screen. Set around them are chips and soda. “It’ll be like a party.” Jack claps their hands.

Jack absolutely kicks Gavin’s butt at the game. And in the next. And in the next. “Wow, you suck at this.” They comment, after winning once again.

Gavin sighs, placing his controller down. “Yeah. It’s been forever since I played…well any sort of game.”

“What have you been doing all this time?” Jack wonders.

“I haven’t really had time to do anything of that sort,” Gavin said.

“Why?”

“Well, the curse-“

“Has done what?” Jack breaks in. “It turns things you touch to gold. How does that affect your ability to have fun?”

Gavin opens his mouth. Then closes it. He looks down at the controller. “I’ve been busy.” He finally answers.

“Too busy to have fun? What a life that must be.” Jack replies. They sip at some soda, watching Gavin.

Gavin just stares back, hopelessly.

There are three Ryans that Gavin knows of. One has blue eyes. Blue-eyed Ryan likes to stick close to the crew, looming over them. Watching. When Gavin mentioned it once to Michael, Michael told him it was an old habit of Ryan’s.

“He likes to protect things.”

Green-eyed Ryan is chatty. He talks about computers and likes to drink Diet Coke. He stays a safe distance away from Gavin, talking to him over countertops or with furniture between them.

Red-eye Ryan scares him. He saw red-eye put a bullet between someone’s eyes and stick a knife at the base of someone else’s spine.

Gavin can’t help but watch Ryan switch between the three. Red turns to green then bleeds to blue before turning back to red. They all must get their opinion in.

Ryan also likes to sleep outside Gavin’s door. Gavin had assured him, after the first time, that Gavin wasn’t going anywhere. Ryan had just stared at him with blue eyes. Gavin brings it up with Geoff. Geoff just pats him on the shoulder and tells him that means Ryan likes him.

Ryan makes sure that Gavin continues to eat, shoving plates in his face and not leaving till he feels that Gavin had eaten enough. When he is green-eye Ryan, he will read out loud. His voice is smooth. The books he read are long, things Gavin had never read himself. There had never been enough time.

Gavin doesn’t usually go on heists or deals. It feels wrong. To be spending all this time trying to right a wrong and here he is, stepping in line with criminals. He refuses the gun they try to give the first few times. But after almost being shot, he takes it, promising himself he will never use it unless for self-defense.

But sometimes he does go and just watch them work. Jack is great at getting into places-of course they are, they can be everyone. Jeremy carries a club like it’s the only weapon he needs and really, when he swings and the force of it plows through concrete like butter, it probably is. Michael and Ryan are there, raining down bullets or standing menacingly in the back.

Geoff is the one orchestrating it all.

Once at a deal, when they had been negotiating with a wannabe drug dealer, trying to decide if he would be allowed to sell on their turf, Gavin noted the way that Michael and Ryan would look at Geoff before talking. Little side glances. Geoff had been in the back, lent against a wall, half covered in shadows. He would tilt his head from time to time, some secret code that meant something to the others. His eyes never left the increasingly agitated dealer. Gavin watched him watch the dealer, watched as Geoff pulled his gun before the dealer could reach for his and shot at the man’s hand. He watched the way Geoff just grinned and shrugged, leaving the dealer to Ryan and Michael to do with as they please.

The third time Gavin goes with them to a heist, he stands in the corner and watches as everything goes wrong. The teller presses the button before they can stop her. They can’t get the money fast enough. Cops are busting down the door, civilians are running around, and they can’t get anyone under control.

He watches an officer gun down Jack. He moves forward, ungloves one of his hands and touches the officer’s shoulder. The man had had his back turned towards him, but he spins around upon Gavin’s touch. He brings his gun up and Gavin can see the fear in his eyes. But the gold works faster. It spreads from his shoulder and up his neck. The man screams, dropping his gun in favor of reaching up to scratch at his neck, fingernails scraping across the gold.

Gavin stumbles backward, watching with wide eyes as the gold overtakes the man. A young girl flashes across his vision, pleading for her father to make it stop. His hands are trembling heart pumping. His breath is coming in short.

“Father, father, stop!”

But he can’t stop it. Never could. And it twists his stomach, sends tears to his eyes.

Everything has gone silent. Gavin isn’t sure what was going on with the others, if they have stopped shooting or if everything is still descending into chaos. He doesn’t really care. Just watches the man before him be forever froze in gold.

He reaches down to grab the gun attached to his hip. He makes sure it is loaded. Then he puts it against his head.

Strong arms wrap around him, pinning his arms against his side. He twists his head to look back and meets the red eyes of Ryan. Gavin makes sure to keep his hands as far away from the other man as he can.

“Well, would you look at that.”

Geoff appears before him, a forest green robe replacing the suit he had moments before. He walks up to the now completely golden officer, lightly rubbing his fingers against the man’s shoulder.

Gavin swallows and looks around. Jeremy is beating his club against a figure that probably once was a human. It looks like a fleshy mess, guts strewn around it. There is wind whipping around Michael. Lights are flashing, in storm clouds that surrounded him, mini lightning that strikes out and catches a piece of paper on fire. Another bolt strikes a hole through another officer. He falls to the floor as Michael laughs.

“It’s so pretty.” Gavin’s attention is drawn back to Geoff, who is now laid across the officer’s back. His smirk is wide. “Good job.”

Gavin’s cheeks are wet. “I-I didn’t mean to, I swear. They killed Jack and I reacted without thinking and-“

“And look what you did.” Geoff cuts in. He brushes his hand across the officer’s cheek. “Amazing work. And you were protecting the crew? You did well.”

“He’s dead.”

Geoff shrugs. “He would have died anyway. But you made him beautiful.”

Gavin stares at the officer. His face is frozen in golden horror, mouth opened for a scream that has been cut off. His hands are curled into claws, one wrapped around his throat. “I didn’t want to.”

“Didn’t you? Seemed you were moving with intent. And what does it matter? He killed Jack. Doesn’t he deserve this?”

“You protected the crew.” Ryan’s gruff voice spoke near his ear.

Geoff walks forward. With every step, his appearance changes. Long green robes, with yellow accents flow around him. They reach the floor. A helmet sits on top of his head, with long, curved horns sticking out of it. His eyes are pure green, glowing neon with power. He ruffles Gavin’s hair as he passes by. “You did well.”

Later, Jack reappears at the penthouse. Bloody but alive and the crew celebrates with cookies.

Gavin locks himself in his room.

You expect to hit the ground. You expect there to be a splat. You expect your brains to be all over the hillside, an explosion of body parts and blood.

You do not expect there to someone to help you slow down. For arms to wrap around you and hold you close and tell you everything will be fine.

With them, you’ll either survive. Build your life back up. Maybe one day, you won’t see your daughter’s face in your dreams, pleading for it to stop.

Or maybe you’ll still go splat. But at least this time, you have friends.

Gavin is in the process of turning a mug gold when Geoff appears again. Gavin startles, fumbling with the mug before it crashes against the ground. “Get out of my room.” Gavin snarls.

Geoff just smiles and sits on Gavin’s bed. “You called it your room.” He points out.

“So?” Gavin huffs.

“You’re really starting to fit in here,” Geoff says as he lays against the headboard.

Gavin considers him. Then he looks that golden pieces, scattered across the floor. “Do you usually do this? Force other immortals to join your gang?”

“Actually, Jack found me. As did Ray. I like to think they’re the ones to force me into this life.” Geoff tilts his head. “To be fair to them, I was causing mischief before. Now it’s more organized at least.”

Gavin laughs. “So you all, what? Followed each other around like lost puppies.”

“Hey, we’re very dangerous puppies.”.

They stay silent for a moment. Then Gavin asks. “Why are you here?”

“In this room? Because I wanted to let you know dinner is ready.”

“No. Why are you here, on Earth? Instead of your own realm?”

Geoff lets out a sigh. “I don’t think they’ll take me back if I begged them. Not that I would. But still. To them, I represent death and betrayal. Who would want that around?”

Gavin looks at Geoff. Sees a lot of things in those eyes that he’s sure are reflected in his own. Then he grabs a nearby pen, watching in silence as it turns to gold and hands it to Geoff. “Apparently you have a whole crew that wants you around.”

Geoff takes it. He spins it between his fingers. “Yeah, I guess I do. With maybe one more?”

Gavin smiles. “I can’t guarantee that. But I’ll stick around for a while.”

#fake ah crew #midas! Gavin #various demi-gods #mythology au

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rejectedusername-trashfics · 7 years

Text

Shot by the Gods- Read Me as Sober

Summary: A series of One Shots, Ficlets, or Drabbles from my Gods of LS AU. After getting Gavin into a car crash, Geoff decides he needs to sober up. Ryan suggests an activity to do instead of drinking

Chapter: 11/?

Word Count: 1,339

Note: takes place before Causing Chaos and after Domestic Demi-Lads

WARNING: CAR CRASH MENTION

Previous / AO3

The day had been an interesting one. Most of the crew were on a weekend break. Michael was with Lindsay caring for their newborn son, Jack was on a date with the cute Australian secretary she was seeing, Jeremy was at a wrestling match and nobody knew what Ryan was doing in his room.

Geoff had had the drunken idea of racing cars off-road down Mt. Chiliad with Gavin. Despite the fact that Gavin didn’t know how to drive, he agreed. They started from the top of the mountain and everything seemed like it was going to be fine at first. After a little bit. It was clear that Gavin was no good at off road driving. He ended up veering into the side of a tree.

Geoff saw that Gavin had crashed and stopped his antics to go rescue him. He pulled him out of the car relatively unscathed. Geoff came to the conclusion that the race was a bad idea. He left the wrecked car on the mountain, and took Gavin home. Most of the car ride was quiet, giving Geoff time to think. As he thought about it. He realized that he came up with a lot of stupid ideas when he was drunk. He wasn’t sure it was always the best idea.

Geoff and Gavin walked back into the penthouse to see Michael holding his baby on the couch. “Sup, guys?” he greeted them.

“How are you and the little prince of the crew?” Gavin asked.

Michael chuckled. “Lucas isn’t the prince, but we’re doing fine. How are you and Geoff?”

“We’re top! I wrecked my car,”

“Of course, you did,” Michael interrupted.

“But Geoff rescued me, so it was okay. That off-road race was quite a rush!”

“That sounds awesome. What did you think about it, Geoff?”

“I.. uh…”

“I’m gonna go make drinks. What would you guys like?” Gavin asked.

“Surprise me,” Michael answered.

Gavin nodded. “And you, Geoff?”

“… Coffee.” Geoff answered after he thought about it.

“Irish coffee?” Gavin asked with a wink.

“Regular coffee.”

“Oh…kay…” Gavin replied, confused. Then he went to the kitchen to start a pot.

Michael gave Geoff a confused look as well. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked Geoff.

“Yeah.” Then he paused again. “I think I want to ask Ryan something.”

“Okay. He’s in his room doing gods knows what.”

“Thanks.” Then Geoff started walking to Ryan’s room.

Geoff got to Ryan’s door and started knocking. “Yo buddy, you in there?” he called in.

Ryan was sitting on his bed reading a comic book when he heard the knocking. He looked up, “Yes?” he called back.

“I have a question to ask you.”

Ryan sighed and rolled his eyes. “Come in.” Geoff walked in looking disheveled. “Wow, what happened to you?”

Geoff sighed. “Look, I had a drunken idea to go off-road racing do Mt. Chiliad with Gavin. I don’t know why Gavin agreed to race against me since he can’t drive,”

“I thought you were going to teach him?” Ryan interrupted to ask.

“No, he still doesn’t want to,” Geoff answered. “Anyway, he ended up crashing.” Ryan opened his mouth to protest, “But I pulled him out and he was unharmed,” Geoff added quickly.

“Do you have a point to this?”

“Yeah, when driving the two of us home, I thought this was a stupid idea I came up with when I was drunk. I thought about it more and realized I come up with lots of other stupid ideas when I’m drunk. I not sure I really want to drink anymore.”

Ryan raised his eyebrow. “But you’re the demigod of alcohol.”

“I know, I know. But my dad wasn’t drunk when he created the whole ‘Midas’ thing. He loves alcohol, but he’s not normally under its influence when he’s working. I shouldn’t let alcohol inhibit me from working and running this crew. I need to be a responsible leader.”

Ryan set his comic down and began to clap. “That’s very noble of you, Geoff.”

“Thanks. But I was wondering, how do you get by with not drinking?”

“Well, I’ve just never liked the stuff,”

“No, I know. But how do you manage to still hold yourself without it? I mean, more so now since your crush has a girlfriend.”

Ryan frowned. “I let Meg stay and date him because she would make him happy. I like getting to help make Gavin happy, so that’s good enough for me.”

“Alright, alright. How do you occupy your time when you’re not working or murdering people, willy-nilly?”

Ryan scoffed. “I don’t murder people, willy-nilly!”

Geoff ignored that statement, “but what else do you do?” he asked again.

“Well, I can talk to the rest of the crew, now that I’m more open with you guys. I play video games with the rest of the crew. And if I want to do something by myself, I read; like I was just doing.”

Geoff stepped back in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, I was reading a comic where a mercenary gets tired of killing people in his story, so he teleports into classic literature to kill the character who inspired the characters in his story.”

Geoff looked intrigued. “Huh, I would have expected you to read more novels and stuff.”

“Eh,” he shrugged. “Would you like me to recommend a novel for you?”

“Actually, sure.” Geoff nodded.

“The crew watches that ‘Game of Thrones’ show together, right?”

Geoff nodded. “Yeah, who doesn’t love dragons and medieval tits?”

“You could try reading the books that that show is based off of,” he suggested.

“But I already watch the show, so I’ll already know the plot of the book,” Geoff complained.

“I know the author works with the makers of the show, but books are always different from the movies.”

“I guess reading could be a good distraction.”

“Reading is fun and it can feel nice.”

“Do you know if anyone has a copy?”

Ryan nodded and slid off his bed. He walked over to his bookshelf and picked the book off of it. “it’s actually a series called, ‘A Song of Ice and Fire,’ and ‘Game of Thrones’ is only the first one in it.” He told him as he handed him the book.

Geoff took the book and smiled. “Thank you,” he said as he went to leave to go read the book. Ryan waved him off and went back to the comic he was reading.

Geoff went back to his room to read, after a night he finished the book and asked Ryan if he could borrow the next on in the series. If did it again a few nights later. After that, Ryan just stole him a book set of the series and gave it to him. After he finished the whole series so far, he walked up to Ryan carrying ‘A Dance with Dragons’ when everyone was in the living room together. “Thank you for introducing me to the series,” he thanked.

“I’m glad I was able to introduce you to a healthier hobby,” Ryan nodded.

“Geeeeooooofffffffff,” Gavin began to whine. “we haven’t done anything big and fun ever since you stopped drinking and started with this reading nonsense.”

“Reading’s not nonsense. I read and I’ve written a book. It’s popular online,” Jeremy argued.

“I’ll have to read it, but I actually had an idea of sorts,” Geoff announced.

“What would that be?” Michael asked.

“We steal books and money to help donate to libraries to provide more reading material to people in need.”

“I like it, but since when did you become good guy?”

“Well, it could help with the crew’s popularity with the public,” Jack thought out loud.

“At least it will be something to do,” Gavin relented.

Geoff clapped his hands together. “Alright, let’s plan this out!” he called out. He and most of the crew got up to follow Geoff to the meeting room. Ryan smiled as he got up; he was glad he got Geoff to have a greater appreciation for reading.

#Gods of LS #ragehappy #rt fanfic #fanfic #fake ah crew

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