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undead-merman · 3 years

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⸸Jersey Devil Asmodeus and Leviathan⸸ GN- Reader SFW

Asmodeus

Appearance

At seven feet tall Asmodeus has long equine-like legs with massive hooves as large as a man's head and just as capable of crushing one as well. His fur is rather long on his legs, especially around his hooves, but it’s well groomed.

He has a long tail which has three barbs at the point which are razor sharp and when whipped can leave massive gashes in nearby trees and rocks. The barbs on his tail are polished a pearly white.

His back which is slightly slouched has a set of large leathery wings with barbs on each finger of the wing. His wings are as dark as a moonless night but along the fingers of his wings they have a pinkish tint.

His mouth is littered with large pointed teeth, porcelain white and made for tearing and ripping. He also possesses a black prehensile tongue with a tip of pink at the very end. His eyes are goat-like with horizontal pupils that glow a wine red.

On his head are goat ears that twist and turn to any sound but he also has a pair of horns that stretch back past his head a few inches with a few ridges along the length of them.

Monster habits

Living in and around a swamp like biome is a bit difficult for him since he has a distaste for uncleanness but he’s happy that because of his presence humans are scared to come near his domain. He does get lonely though so venturing out isn’t out of the question and he always has a good laugh seeing humans clamoring about after seeing him.

He enjoys singing to the song birds every once in a while. They sing back to him and he’ll mimic but when they sense his presence as they approach, they quickly turn to flee wildly, leaving him alone. He always feels a bit dejected afterwards, his tail falling sadly to the ground.

Sometimes though when he’s bored or in a bad mood he loves attacking humans and terrorizing them, driving them mad. He takes great pleasure in seeing how his mere presence can cause terror and kill the people around him. His laugh sounds like a mix of tearing metal and a hyena laugh. He takes livestock as payment for their annoyance.

He’s very wary of nosey humans wandering in since he relishes in the many bounties that grow or can only be found there. Rare herbs and flowers as well as the beauty of unspoiled nature. He has a love hate relationship with humans hating them for being tiny pests to him bothering his home but thriving off their terror and fear of him. He craves to hear them talk about him in fear over and over.

Spending time with you

At first, he just sees you as another annoying human deciding to go where you don’t belong. He was excited to terrorize another human and perhaps ready to rip them apart but you gasped and had a look of terrifying wonder and you stupidly took out your camera to take a picture of him as he leapt to you and knocked you over pinning you to the ground. Instead of anger on his face and showing his teeth his face was hot and flushed. He asked you why you came out so far and by yourself. Unlike the others who had tried hunting him down you were simply curious and wanted to see him.

It was right then and there it felt like he was struck with cupid’s arrow. Right at that moment he had to make you his. He grabs you by your shirt or shoulders as you're laying on the ground and flies back to his home. He takes you to a burrow underneath a collection of trees which is surprisingly spacious. He’s all over you calling you all sorts of pet names and just adoring you.

He takes you to some of the more romantic looking locations. His favorite is sitting on the ruins of an old building long since forgotten overlooking the forest in fall. The leaves dance around you both and it feels like only you two exist.

He’s willing to do whatever it is you enjoy doing, bird watching, treasure hunting, simply just exploring the splendor that nature has to offer. He just begs of you to not drag him into the mud or make him play with bugs. He treats you like royalty ready to do everything for you since you’re so small and fragile compared to him. Plus he can’t hide how much he adores seeing your sweet face smile when he helps you down from ruins or trees or when he feeds you.

His favorite thing to do is to have you both groom each other. He'll brush and style your hair and wash your back making you look as stunning as him but he enjoys it if you do the same to him, both working on each other lovingly he can't help but shake his tail like a happy dog.

If you want to fly he’s happy to let you. He’s face lights up with a huge grin and takes you in his arms as he flies over the tall tree tops and soars over marshes. If you're feeling brave enough he’ll let you swing from his arms and the whole time he’ll laugh with you as your feet swing trying to make splashes in the water.

Dark tendencies

Ever since that encounter he and you were now partners forever bound to one another in blood, body, and soul. So he’s now banned you from leaving the forest. And he tells you as he lovingly takes your chin into his fingers that he will know. He knows everything that happens in the forest. He plays it off with a kiss and a smile but with that cold seriousness tells you he will hunt you down if you even try.

Asmodeus might even invite you to terrorize nearby humans be they camping or living in random houses or even the whole town he doesn’t care as long as they are suffering. If you refuse or try to scold him he frowns and pouts asking why you care for those nasty little things. He’ll try to pull you out of the den gently to take you and join him but any kind of resistance or protest his frown turns into a scowl and he’ll fly out.

If you allow him to take you he’ll take you to

If any humans start coming near you for any reason he can sense it, and no matter where he is or what he is doing he darts through the forest branches before ripping them apart in a fit of rage. He despises such nosy humans. All of them are awful, you're the only expectation.

Misc stuff

Despite hating bugs he does like butterflies. He’ll care for them, leaving them flowers or small dishes of blood to drink. He names each one and can recognize each one.

He doesn’t cook his food but taking care of you and making you food, he finds he quite likes cooked food. He enjoys a nicely cooked and lightly seasoned steak and his wings shiver every time he eats it.

Leviathan

Appearance

Standing at an impressive seven and a half feet, his long legs are cervine and have short fur and it’s dark like dusk turning to night with some hints of navy blue when light hits them in the right way.

His tail is long, much longer than his body and has three terrifyingly sharp serrated barbs on the end each barb is serrated and can slice through nearly anything like it was paper.

His wings are large and he can articulate every finger inside his wings with impressive range. The webbing is torn all over and gives his wings a more rugged appearance though they have a tinge of blue to them, looking closely his veins are navy blue and he bleeds blue blood.

His mouth is filled with the same serrated teeth just like his tail. His teeth are also prehensile; he can flex them to make his teeth longer and coming more out of his gums and his long tongue is a dark indigo. His eyes are a rust orange with horizontal eyes that leaves a light trail as he moves.

His horns are exactly like that of a buck, they’re large yet velvety in texture. His ears are drooping goat ears reaching to about his chin and their the same black as the fur on his legs.

Monster habits

He enjoys the serenity and quietness of the swamps, the dark waters, he prefers to be alone. Sometimes when he’s alone he’ll enjoy just lounging in the marsh submerged in cool water with no one around except him and his imagination.

He enjoys watching the fish and underwater animals swim about. He mutters to them since they’re the only creatures that don’t flee or startle themselves to death just by seeing him, plus they’re quiet and pretty to see swirling about. Even when he’s hungry he doesn’t eat the fish, he enjoys them too much.

He absolutely despises humans but likes their possessions: books, small little trinkets, he collects them after either scaring the humans off or just eating them. It depends on how they act. But the things that he collects from them he keeps, he enjoys learning about the strange things humans make or collect. When he gets a bit antsy he hunts them down to strike fear into them, terrifying them, and taking livestock to devour or even raiding their things.

Spending time with you

It was seeing the way you treated the creatures of his domain so carefully. It made his heart race with how such a human could exist, so tender and loving. His face heated and he took off into the tree canopy not caring if you heard him he just couldn’t handle how precious you were.

Every time you came into the forest he would quickly dart to you to watch everything you did, fishing, camping, taking a walk. He admired everything you did and oh how he wished he had that thing called a camera so he could immortalize this moment.

He has to work himself up to interact with you but he panics in the moment jumping out and startling you. He’s terrified you’ll run from him so he just grabs you and flies off to his home with you. His home is a cave with a wide opening yet covered in vines and tree roots from the trees above and the floor is covered in a leaf litter of bright fallen leaves. He explains everything trying his best to not scare you.

He takes you to see some of the beautiful waters teeming with fish and life. The water crystal clear as you see the sea grass brushing each fish. Leviathan’s proud to admit he’s the one to have protected it and kept it pristine.

He pleads with you to let him share his "acquired" collection with you. Showing you the things he's found or explaining some stories he's heard. Every time his face lights up with wonder.

Dark tendencies

The forest, the swamps, the trails, everything in the forest is his. Especially you. It is all his and no one else's and he grits his teeth when people interrupt his tranquility. Humans are just so annoying yet how come they get some of the most interesting things? He hates it, it's not fair! He makes sure to let his frustration out in the most gruesome ways. Though he doesn't want you to see. He doesn't want you to be scared of him.

He'll do anything to keep you in the forest offering you an easy life with just him. Tell him all you like that you have a home to go back to or other responsibilities to take care of and he'll find a way to keep you there. After all, you love him too, don't you?

When other humans start getting too close he’s quick to deal with them so you don’t get any ideas of leaving him. He can’t have any humans trying to steal you away so he just bites into them and thrashes them around before leaving the other animals to deal with them as he quickly returns back to you. Though he makes sure to wash himself before he comes back.

Since he met you he’s been scaring off humans less so he can just enjoy your presence and spend time with you but if you two have some kind of argument he takes it out on anything in the area. He enjoys the suffering he may cause and revels in it. Enjoying every scream and sob. Then returning to you like a sad dog begging for forgiveness as if it was just a game to relieve stress with.

Misc stuff

He has very few manga but he treats them like they’re treasures. He absolutely adores them but he never knows how they end since he’s only gotten one or two of a series but if you know the stories he acts like you're a divine being with all knowing knowledge and asks you for every little detail of it.

Leviathan likes the cold and often swims during cooler weather, he simply just enjoys colder water, not freezing though.

#obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me monster headcanons #leviathan x reader #asmodeus x reader #yandere leviathan #yandere asmodeus

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bitch-butter · 3 years

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hello! can i request "You didn't do anything wrong, there's nothing to apologize for" for any ship of your choosing? or any AU you want? i just really love how your writing flows, it's so cohesive-- don't take this the wrong way but like. i adore sitting down and actually analyzing your stuff structurally? seeing how it works and weaves together to make a whole just makes the shriveled up eng lit major inside me really happy.

w o o f this one ran away from me a little bit, it incorporates some Things I was thinking of re: forgiveness/webgott last month, and it's bit different than pure H/C but I hope you find something to like in it! Thank you for your lovely compliment~

Yes, it's webgott bc i am chained to The Rhythm

4. "You didn't do anything wrong. There's nothing to apologize for."

He cleared the drawer once more, eyes scanning into its dark corners for any sign of a missed sock, undershirt, some hidden treasure that he had many years ago deemed worthy of being put in the back of the underwear drawer. Raising his brows, Joe shook his head at himself as he closed it resolutely, tossing his bounty into his pack and stuffing the top with the sack that contained his bathroom shit.

Even remembering the days he used to be able to leave the house with just his keys made him want to sigh like a goddamn cow in the summertime. Now he needs the bag, the car, and Web just to go across the bay.

Speak of the devil, Web padded into the bedroom with his usual September expression: weary, exhilarated, slightly frustrated. Wordlessly, he crossed past Joe to the bed and slumped face-first onto it with a groan.

“Done?” Joe questioned, zipping up the bag.

Making a soft grunt of a sound, Web curled his arms around his head. “Done,” he said, face mashed against the bed.

“Well, get to it,” Joe said, stepping over to land a light smack against Web’s ass and grinning at the outraged whine he got in response. “Don’t want to be late,” he tossed over his shoulder as he stepped back out to the hall, making for the kitchen.

Even out here he can hear the sound Web makes, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “I’ve changed my mind!”

“No you didn’t!” Joe called back, grabbing the butter left on the counter and shoving it in the fridge, letting his eyes make one final sweep around the kitchen. “If you don’t show your reputation won’t ever recover.”

“Your mother loves me,” Web toned, and Joe couldn’t help a snicker as he moved through the hall back to the bedroom, where Web had at least moved to lay on his back, knees up. “She wouldn’t care, she’d probably let me move in with her if you ever kicked me out.”

Rolling his eyes, Joe stood at the food of the bed, arms folded. “Not with Yom Kippur, you’re not allowed to fuck around. She was happy you said you wanted to come, you don’t want to disappoint her.”

Heaving out a long breath, Web folded his hands behind his head, eyes lowered as he peered down at Joe. His knees tilted just so, his lips quirking, and Joe could see the fucking thought forming in his head before he had a chance to open his mouth.

“No.”

“We have time,” Web said, extending one leg to poke his toes into the left side of Joe’s stomach.

Clicking his tongue, he took hold of the other man’s ankle, giving it a soft pull and smiling in satisfaction as Web tried to pull it back to no avail. “If you think I’m going to miss my last fucking meal just to fuck you then you have another thing coming, alright?”

With a disgruntled twist of his lips Web pulled his leg in again, a little jerk that ushered Joe down onto the mattress as well. “You weren’t this dedicated last year,” he noted lightly, free of the reproach that might have accompanied the words if his family had said them.

Shaking his head, Joe decided to throw Web a bone and settled beside him, at least staying up on his elbows. “Different places,” he said simply.

Web looked up at him fondly, hand coming up to smooth over Joe’s hairline, sweeping it back and trailing behind his ear. “So, how will we spend tonight, then?” he asked quietly, eyes still following along where his hand moved. “If not in bed.”

Breath going slow with the contact, he tilted his head into the touch contentedly. “Well, tonight we’re going to eat like kings, Rach will probably be trying to get drunk in the pantry and hoping nobody notices, we’ll sleep in the attic, then tomorrow we spend a lot of fucking time at the synagogue.”

“And we don’t eat,” Web stated, assured.

“No eating, no drinking,” Joe nodded, brow furrowing at the sight of an eyelash on the other man’s cheek, reaching for it mindlessly.

Humming, Web closed his eyes to accommodate him. “Does this have a corresponding Catholic holiday I can retrofit in my mind?”

“I don’t know, you guys got a day where you feel really guilty about everything?” he asked, presenting the lash to Web balanced on the tip of his finger.

Blinking, Web frowned thoughtfully. “Birthdays.”

“Make your wish, you prick,” Joe grumbled, holding back his smile as Web grinned up at him, pausing momentarily before blowing the lash away into the room. Indulgently, he moved in closer, cupping the warmth of Web’s face in his palm and looking down on him with a feeling as close to serenity as he ever has here, in their bed, the sunlight coming in through their window.

Web returned his gaze, his own hand tracing along the back of Joe’s neck. “Do you confess?”

“Sure.”

“Alone?”

“All together,” he corrected, absently rubbing at the spot on Web’s cheek where he had plucked the lash. “You recite it, while you do this,” he said, shifting gently to bring his hand down to Web’s chest, knocking gently against him, just above his heart, with a loose fist.

Web watched his fist, a bemused smile growing over his lips. “Why?”

Settling his hand over the spot, Joe rubbed gently at him. “To punish your heart.”

Smile stilling over his face, Web absorbed his words with quiet interest, eyes floating down along Joe’s neck to the dark burrow of his chest where it pressed against the bed. “Isn’t the sinning hurt enough?”

Trust Web to try to loop him into a conversation about semantics of all fucking things. He must be more anxious to start his classes than Joe thought. “I don’t know,” he half-shrugged, eyes on his own hand over Web’s heart. “If you’re the sort who doesn’t like hurting people, maybe.”

Web nodded, accepting, smile turning more wistful, thoughtful “That’s nice, to be able to get it all out of the way at once.”

“What, you turned in a paper late?” Joe teased.

Flicking behind Joe's ear, Web looked up at him balefully, just a touch of that familiar humor at the edge of his mouth, like a dimple made of light. “I’d apologize to you, obviously.”

Huffing out a surprised laugh, Joe looked discerningly down at him. “You got something you want to tell me?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Web shook his head softly, hand curling around his neck once more and seeming to anchor him down even further, their faces close enough to see the earnest upset around the angles of the other man’s eyes. “You know.”

Web does this. Likes to see monsters where there are none, invent storm clouds heading for them, and it makes him behave like a child sometimes and a man others. He’s a contrarian, down even past his bones and into the dust of the universe that lived in his being, it is an unchangeable fact. Telling him that there’s nothing to worry about accomplished nothing at the best of times.

Not that it’s ever stopped him trying.

“You don’t have to apologize to me for a fucking thing,” Joe rebuked solidly, hand moving from Web’s heart to his head, fingers resting just north of the delicate point of his hairline. “Sincerely.”

“I do, I…” Web parried, eyes unyielding where they looked up into Joe’s, somehow free of the sort of conflict he contained when he started thinking he and Joe had different opinions. “I know that this isn’t easy, dealing with me. And you do,” he continued, and this close he can see the way his eyes are stuck on his lips, the thought filling him with affection. “And you’re amazing.”

Giving in, chest bowing in like the hull of a sinking ship, he caught Web’s lips with his own, a hot smack of a thing that stole his breath, gave it to Web, who in turn gave it back to him better, better. “You don’t have to apologize for living, doll,” he shook his head, their nose practically knocking. “That’s not the point.”

Web didn’t seem soothed by the kiss, still appearing occupied with some train of thought that sought to carry him off and away from Joe’s eyes. “I still think of it sometimes, you know.”

Joe frowned. “What?”

“That day,” Web said, as though it should be evident.

He has to pause and think. They’ve lived a lot of days together, not just these ones that they’ve spent in this apartment, but the ones they spent as voices over the phone, words on a page, men in uniforms hiding from each other like chameleons. How is he meant to know which day Web means from the thousands they’ve had?

Looking down, the blue of Web’s eyes reminds him absently of Austrian skies. Mountains.

Yes. He knows.

“I think sometimes I should apologize to you and never stop,” Web said gently, managing to keep hold of Joe’s eyes as they blinked back and forth and back and forth into the memory.

He hadn’t thought about that day in a long time. Which isn’t to say he never does, but it’s been a time. If he concentrates he can still feel the sun on his neck, the unnatural sweatiness of his palms, how his face had somehow felt cold, waxy. Picturing the house, the dark guts of it with the man inside squirming like half-digested meat, still fills him with the primal sort of rage that only visits him in his dreams. All around the periphery of the memory is Web, that day he had decided that whoever David Webster was he wanted no part of it.

“It’s in the past,” he excused weakly.

Web pulled in a short breath, face carefully open. “I know it is.”

“So let it be.”

Frown deepening, Web’s brought his eyes back down, and even this small departure felt like shrapnel. Joe combed through his hair, rubbing at his scalp, jostling him enough to win his eyes back. Web opened his mouth, struggling, before settling into the intention. “Do you still think about it?”

“Of course,” he said dully, voice still caught somewhere in his memory.

“Do you ever think I owe you an apology?” Web asked, voice quiet and eyes steady.

The question drops through him like rain. He’s thought of that day hundreds of times, thousands. When he lets his mind walk back up that hill, shining in the sun like the cover of the storybooks his mother would read to him, it isn’t Web he’s thinking of. He thinks of a forest of trees, of the way that one can become millions, and those millions become legion. That day had been about a lot of things, he hadn’t ever intended for Web to be one of them.

Web has apologized to him in too many ways to count. But this memory is deeper than they are, the kind of wound that might close over but will still carry a piece of metal, even smaller than a sliver, nestled inside of them both.

Web gives him grief, for better and for worse. But he gives him peace, too. That’s all the apology he wants.

His silence has drifted over the room like fog, but Web looks at him with the sort of clarity that only a few years ago made him feel like a bug on a pin, but now simply makes him feel known.

“I’ll punish my heart for forgiveness tomorrow,” Web said softly, smile turning up his lips, hand against Joe’s neck.

Huffing, Joe shook his head, taking up Web’s mouth once more, briefly. “You have it,” he rasped, kissing just the corner of his lips, and then the soft heat of his cheek. “You’ve had it.”

Web smiled into the kiss, leaning up to press a matching one to Joe’s own cheek. “Good.”

Swallowing, he followed Web back down, their faces close. “Will you accept mine?”

A disbelieving laugh rumbled up Web’s throat, his head giving a dismissive shake as he gave Joe’s neck a hard rub. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he criticized, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

But they haven’t always been that lucky. This sort of luck isn’t a permanent state of being.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, before pausing momentarily. “Let’s say you forgive me for the first sin I haven’t committed yet.”

Laughing, Web took his hand from Joe’s skin, holding it up beside them in some offering. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Joe confirmed, taking his hand, giving it one firm shake, enough to gather up Web’s laugh, before bringing it to his lips and laying a kiss across its back. “Now come on, let’s go.”

#technically ~rivers~#prompt #ask #webgott

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gwenbrightly · 3 years

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The Great Flower Chain Making Competition

Written for the @ninjago-calendar project. The Ninja take Lloyd on a picnic and Cole teaches everyone how to make flower chains.

“He needs normalcy,” Lloyd heard Nya tell his uncle in a hushed voice. He paused outside of his uncle’s room to hear what would come next.

“But his training-” Wu started in, but Kai interrupted him.

“But nothing, Master Wu. You can’t expect him to adjust to being the Green Ninja right away without problems. He’s just a kid, so let him be one.”

There was silence for a moment and Lloyd could easily imagine Nya giving Wu her signature you’d better do as I say or else look to prove her brother’s point. He waited to hear the response, not quite sure what they were talking about, but knowing it involved him.

“I… suppose you have a point,” Wu admitted eventually, “you can do what you asked on one condition: Everyone stays nearby and return to the Bounty immediately if I contact you.”

“That’s technically two conditions,” said Nya, pointedly. Wu sighed.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“We won’t,” Kai assured him and then the door opened before Lloyd could disappear around the corner. Nya raised an eyebrow when she saw him.

“Lloyd, were you… eavesdropping?”

“N-no,” he insisted at first, but both siblings immediately saw through his lie.

“How much did you hear, Lloyd?” Kai asked quietly. Lloyd shrugged.

“I dunno. Not much. But you guys really didn’t have to get on Wu’s case for me over training. I’m fine.” Another lie.

“Considering we literally just got you back from a group of traitorous snakes, I’d say it’d be completely understandable if you weren’t fine. And besides, it’s our duty to protect you. Even from your uncle,” Kai stated fiercely, ruffling Lloyd’s hair. Nya nodded in agreement.

“Which is why we convinced him to give everyone the day off so we can take you to do something fun!” she announced. Lloyd blinked.

“Fun?” he repeated blankly. He had to admit that doing something to get his mind off of, well, everything, sounded appealing. But there was so much to be done now that he knew he was the Green Ninja. Could he even afford a day off? Lloyd wasn’t sure how all this destined savior business worked.

“That’s right! We’re going on a picnic!”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Lloyd questioned, not sharing Nya��s enthusiasm, “I mean, the Serpentine probably want revenge for what happened at the fire temple.”

“Sure it is. We’ll just have to be careful,” Nya assured him at the same time as Kai insisted, “We only have good ideas!”

They rolled their eyes at each other, but neither backed down.

“We’re not taking no for an answer, Lloyd. Fresh air is good for shrimps like you,” Kai continued, giving Lloyd a smile. Lloyd knew he was probably right, though he didn’t know much about fresh air. Darkley’s had always been kind of stuffy.

Nya looked at him expectantly. He bit his lip.

“Fine. But if anything goes wrong, I’m telling Pythor to eat you first,” Lloyd relented. A few hours away couldn’t do any harm.

_________________________

“I think we’re almost there,” Cole announced. Lloyd could just make out the clearing up ahead. After gathering the rest of the ninja and packing lunch, which had been a hectic affair, the group had set out to find the perfect picnic spot. Cole claimed to “know a place” and the others had eagerly followed his lead. Lloyd had never been on a picnic before, so he wasn’t really sure what they were looking for, but hopefully it would all make sense sooner or later.

“Awesome,” Nya said, running her hands together enthusiastically.

“Yeah,” Kai agreed, sounding less excited, “what did you put in this thing, Zane? My arms are starting to get tired.”

“Oh, just the picnic essentials.” Zane called over his shoulder. Kai held the picnic basket in front of him, giving it a distaste glare.

“You sure you didn’t pack the kitchen sink?”

The nindroid deigned not to reply and Kai continued to mutter complaints as they continued down the trail. Deciding to have mercy on Kai after a few minutes (he was a little tired of the complaining), Lloyd asked,

“Want me to take it for a sec?”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Cole cut in, “we’re here.”

“Thank goodness,” Kai declared, staggering forward to set the basket down on a tree stump. Lloyd rolled his eyes at his dramatics before wandering off to explore while Nya and Jay spread out the ginormous picnic blanket they had stolen from Wu.

He found a stream not far from where Kai had left the picnic basket. Sitting down amongst the reeds, Lloyd watched the water ripple and swirl. He could see tiny minnows swimming in and out of the shadows. What other creatures might be lurking nearby?

Maybe after they ate, Kai would be interested in helping him find out. There could be water snakes, turtles, or maybe even frogs! Frogs liked marshy areas – didn’t they?

Lloyd could just imagine the look on Jay’s face when he and Kai brought back the biggest, slimiest frog they could find. He giggled maniacally as he skipped a stone across the stream. It bounced a few times before sinking with a soft plunk. The minnows scattered. Lloyd sighed happily, watching them.

There was something so peaceful about this place. About the way the gentle breeze tickled the flowers that covered the meadow. Maybe he should pick some for Nya. Girls liked flowers, didn’t they? There hadn’t been many girls at Darkleys.

Of course, there was always the possibility that she was allergic to flowers. After all, Nya had once told him that she had a perfume allergy. He should probably ask Kai about that before he went and picked too many flowers for her…

“Lloyd! It’s time for lunch.”

Someone called, interrupting his thoughts. Plans for pestering his honorary siblings would have to wait. Lloyd sidled over to the picnic blanket and plopped down next to Kai, who handed him a plate.

“So, Cole. How did you know about this place?” Jay inquired as he set out the sandwich supplies. Cole smiled wistfully and explained,

“My parents brought me here a few times when I was a kid. We would play in the stream for hours and then Mom would teach me how to make flower chains and force Pop and I to wear them. It was really fun.”

“Aww. That sounds nice,” Nya commented. She held out a jar of peanut butter to Lloyd, who happily accepted it. He slathered some onto his bread, listening to Cole share more stories about his childhood. Lloyd wished his own parents had been around to take him on picnics and have water fights with him. But that wasn’t the way the world worked.

With a sigh, Lloyd took a bite of his sandwich. Just the right ratio of jelly to peanut butter. Perfect.

“You mentioned flower chains, right?” Jay asked through a mouthful of food. It sounded more like he was saying, “Ooh entond oor Jane’s ight?”

“Yeah?” Cole replied, raising an eyebrow. Jay swallowed before continuing.

“This might sound kinda silly, but… I’ve always wondered how people make those.”

“Oh, it’s easy!” Cole announced with a grin, “want me to teach you after we finish eating?”

“I, for one, would love to learn,” Nya stated. She took a bite of jello salad and glanced around at the others, who nodded.

“As would I,” Zane agreed serenely. Kai smirked and said,

“Sure. Why not. But I say we make it a competition.”

“A competition?” Lloyd asked curiously, his eyes widening. That sounded promising.

“Yeah! I’m thinking we each make a flower chain, and whoever has the best one wins. We can, like, have Master Wu judge them when we get back to the Bounty, or something,” Kai explained.

“That sounds kinda fun,” Nya decided, before turning to Lloyd, “whaddya think? You in?”

Lloyd shrugged noncommittally, but ultimately agreed to join in. He had nothing better to do and was awfully curious about these… flower chains, anyway. What was the point of making chains from flowers? It wasn’t like you could use such a chain to trap enemies or anything exciting. Oh, well. He knew this entire trip was just to distract him from Green Ninja stuff. So it was probably okay if there were no practical applications for flower chains that he could use to cause chaos later on.

The small boy shoved what was left of his sandwich into his mouth and chewed messily as he gazed around the meadow. There sure were a lot of flowers to choose from. He wondered how they would know which were best to use. And how long it was going to take the others to finish their food. Lloyd was starting to get bored of sitting there with nothing to do.

“All right, listen up, people. What you’re looking for is flowers with nice long stems, like this,” Cole finally announced. He held up a daffodil. “That makes it easier to weave them together. Once everyone has their supplies, meet back here, and I’ll explain the rest. Everybody ready?”

“Aye, aye, captain!” Jay said. He gave a teasing salute and trotted off across the meadow. Cole rolled his eyes as he watched him go.

“Apparently, we have started,” Zane observed with a wry smile. The others laughed.

“Yeah, I think it’s safe to say the competition has begun.” Cole agreed.

“Well? What are we waiting for?” Nya asked before nudging Lloyd, “We can’t let Jay beat us!”

She grabbed his arm and drug him off toward the opposite end of the meadow from where Jay had gone.

“Are teams even legal?” Lloyd heard Kai ask in the distance.

“I never said they weren’t.” came the response. Nya giggled and came to a stop.

“This looks like a good place to start picking flowers,” she said, bending over to examine a patch of irises. Lloyd nodded and plucked one, careful to make sure the stem was long enough to meet Cole’s standards.

“Perfect.” Nya smiled approvingly. She began gathering an armful of flowers of her own. Red, then pink, then white, then purple. The two soon had sizable clumps of irises and various other flowers they had found growing nearby. Ready for the next phase of the competition, they returned to the picnic blanket just as the others began heading back.

“Congratulations, competitors. You have completed the first challenge,” Cole stated in his best announcer voice. The rest of the group cheered with much more vigor than was truly necessary. They were all quite invested in the competition by this point.

“Now you must learn how to make flower chains from the pro himself. Watch as I demonstrate,” Cole continued. He showed them how to weave the flowers together by taking clumps of 3 and braiding them in an intricate pattern. Next, he showed them how to connect new flowers to the braid by counting several stems as a single strand while braiding.

The project had mixed results. Cole kept having to jump in to assist Kai before he could tear his flowers apart in frustration (they wouldn’t stay in place), while Jay’s weaving was so complex that even Zane couldn’t make sense of his strategy.

Nya and Lloyd were hard at work designing a pattern of colors that was extra appealing to the eye when they realized that they had neglected to collect any blue flowers. Nya nodded her head meaningfully towards Jay’s pile of flowers, which contained a variety of blue wildflowers. Lloyd grinned and swapped spots with her, giving her easy access to Jay’s stash.

“Hey, Jay- I seem to be having trouble with this part… mind helping me out?” she asked ever so innocently. Jay flashed her a smile and scooted closer to her before launching into a tirade about the art of braiding.

“Mhm. Oh, that makes sense,” Nya commented, pretending to be interested as she slipped a few of the flowers from Jay’s pile into Lloyd’s waiting hands. She continued to do this for several minutes before Jay finally caught on.

“Hey. Hey wait! You can’t do that!” he protested in frustration. Nya simply smiled.

“All is fair in love and war, Jay.”

“Yeah!” Lloyd agreed, nodding vigorously. Jay glared at him.

“Do you even know what that means?” he asked.

“Nope!” Lloyd said, happily adding a blue flower to his chain. All in all, the picnic had been way more exciting than he’d expected.

#ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #Ninjago Calendar #March #Lloyd #Cole #Flower chains #my fics #validate meeee

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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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sunshinelikesstarwars · 4 years

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Paths of Life 7

AO3 - FanFiction.net

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - ?

Peli had led Omera to a cluttered room after lunch (it might have once been a waiting area, but only one chair wasn’t completely buried under old scrap) so the baby could have some quiet to sleep. The room had a window, so Omera was able to keep an eye on the repair work. She smiled at the scene.

Winta was watching the mechanic and her droids work on the strict condition that she touch absolutely nothing and not talk too much. Dutifully, Winta held her hands behind her back, rocking up on her toes when she wanted to get a better look at something. Her daughter had warmed up a bit to the mechanic herself, enough that she didn’t immediately try to hide whenever the older woman spoke directly to her.

Omera shook her head. Being so shy wasn’t much of a problem in a small fishing community where no one was a stranger, but it would make some parts of living on the move and always meeting new people interesting. Then again, Winta would be less inclined to wander off on her own in new places, so there might be a benefit to her shyness as well. As long as they were in danger of bounty hunters, it would be better to stay together.

Pressing her lips together, she looked down at the tiny green child in her lap. She could quite honestly say that this was not the direction she’d seen her life going. Leaving the quiet life of a fisher behind to run off with a bounty hunter? That was the stuff of romantic dramas.

Those dramas didn’t usually feature navigating child care with another parent, though. Or any consideration for the slightly daunting task of finding a way to contribute monetarily while always on the move. Or how to progress a relationship when the bounty hunter you ran off with was intense, socially awkward, but very gentle to those he cared about. Or how to handle the heart of a man so very durable in some ways and so very fragile in others.

No, the romances that featured bounty hunters were full of dashing, suave, eloquent heroes rescuing their loves from distress, saving the day against all odds and flying off into hyperspace. Very little actual bounty hunting was done. No one wondered how they were going to get their next few meals. Those dramas tied off with a nice clean ending, no loose ends, but plenty of romantic tension.

She huffed. That part was true for her little “story.” Tension? Yes. In the quiet moments; in the strong, steadying hands on her waist when she stood up too fast, giving her an excuse to grab his arms, both of them lingering past any risk of falling; when she managed to get him to sit down and tell stories (age-appropriate ones) to the kids after they ate dinner and were winding down for sleep, and she held his hand in both of hers as the children slept, twining their fingers together and wondering when, or if, he’d be comfortable taking off his gloves; when he stood a bit closer than was probably necessary as he taught her how to shoot a pistol, his hands remaining on her shoulder and hip after he had nudged her into position, the warmth of him barely noticeable from the scant centimeters between them but there nonetheless (and she wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that he hadn’t touched her like this before, when he was training the villagers to shoot).

If he wasn’t a Mandalorian, she’d know exactly how to act, how to respond. It involved a great deal of kissing and a fair amount of away-from-the-kids time. But he was Mandalorian. He was committed to it, too, and that meant making it work, which meant communication and maybe a bit of experimentation and patience.

Which was pretty difficult with two children underfoot, especially when one of those children was currently being hunted for unknown reasons. It wasn’t like they could just hire a babysitter and take a night for themselves, though.

As she tried to puzzle through that particular problem, she was distracted by the Mandalorian walking back into the hangar. Winta ran right over to him and started bouncing around and pointing at various things, presumably telling him all about whatever it was mechanics did. He nodded at her, then looked around. Winta pointed to the waiting area and Omera waved at them through the window.

She tried to stand without waking the baby, but almost like he sensed that his guardian was near, he woke with some bleary blinking and confused cooing. She huffed at his grumpy little face and stroked his forehead with one thumb. His brow unfurrowed (as much as it could, anyways) and he grabbed at her hand. Such a calm child. As a baby, Winta had always cried after she woke up from naps. This serenity was a nice change of pace. She carefully arranged the blanket to hide the child again, being careful of his ears.

Peli had walked over to the man as Omera had rewrapped the baby, talking to him and gesturing to the ship. Winta smiled at her mother as she came out of the waiting room but stayed next the Mandalorian.

Omera noticed that Winta was now trying to copy the man’s stance, shoulders back, arms crossed, going so far as to try to keep her face in a very stern expression (in what could possibly be considered an attempt to mimic his visor) as the adults talked, and Omera was very, very proud of herself for not laughing.

She wished she could see the Mandalorian’s eyes, to see what he thought of his little copy-cat without letting Winta know what they found so cute and making her embarrassed. He did glance slightly down at Winta, then shifted a bit to put his hands on his hips. Winta hurried to mimic him.

Ha. He knew. He thought it was cute, too, she would bet, from the slight tilt of his head towards the girl. Omera even heard one of his little huffs of amusement as she came up beside them.

She held out the child for the Mandalorian to take, which he did, very gingerly. The child made some happy noises and the man bounced him a little, which made the child laugh.

Peli just raised an eyebrow at all of them with a smile and shook her head. “Anyways, the majority of the work is done. There’s some things that need a bit of time to set, but by the time you get back from your job, you’ll be set to go and then some.” He found a job, then. Good.

The Mandalorian said a quick “thank you” and strode off to the ship‘s ramp. Omera and Winta followed close behind, Winta actually racing forward to launch into a lecture about the different kinds of wrenches a person could use.

On the ship, the Mandalorian had set the child down with Winta, who was continuing her “lesson.” The man was searching through the box again, the one he’d been looking in before he’d left to find work. While he looked for whatever he needed, Omera took the meal she had saved for him out of the very small cooler unit and walked to his side.

He eventually found what he was looking for and stood up.

“Here,” she said, holding the foil-wrapped food out before he could say anything. “We got you lunch.” He looked at the food, then back up to her. “It’s just a burrito of some kind. I figured you wouldn’t have a chance to eat anything while you were out, and Peli had one of the droids go get us all some food so we could stay out of sight.”

Slowly, he took the burrito. “How did you pay for this?” he said, turning the food around to see all sides of it. It brought to mind how someone might examine a bomb, wary and curious.

“I used a bit of our savings. You were right about people accepting Imperial Credits here.” His grip tightened. “Careful!” she said, reaching out to tug his fingers away. He relaxed a bit and there was a bit of an awkward pause as they both stared at the now slightly squished burrito.

In that pause, Omera wondered if he was keeping himself from saying anything about her using her money, although she hoped he’d gotten the hint from “our savings.” She’d like for them to work together with their money. It was a conversation that needed to happen, but maybe not right before he left for a job, so she held her tongue.

At length, he managed, “Thank you.”

Or maybe he was just surprised that she’d gotten him food. Some of the strangest things left him in quiet contemplation, things she found boringly normal, like when she kept bringing him food. (He had cooked them all dinner once on that grassy planet. It had become obvious to Omera why the only food stored on his ship had been no-prep ration bars. She had not asked him to cook since, and he had not offered. She was now trying to think of a way to give him lessons without somehow insulting him.)

She smiled at him. “Of course. I’ll let you eat.” She walked back down the ramp of the ship, herding the children off as well. Winta picked up the baby and pointed at some soldering the mechanic had done so the he could appreciate it. The baby, being a baby, had about as much appreciation for soldering as one might expect and was starting to squirm in Winta’s arms. Omera chuckled, then looked around the hangar. Peli seemed to have stepped out, maybe to give them some privacy. “Winta, let him run around for a bit.” The child was soon waddling around, Winta herding him away from anything dangerous while she now told Omera what she’d learned. Omera listened, a bit bemused; Winta had never shown any interest in mechanics before they left. Was this and the interest in flying because of the novelty of it all, or because she actually had a desire to learn these things? Whatever the case, it kept her daughter busy, so she’d appreciate it while it lasted

A few minutes later, the Mandalorian came back outside with something in his hand. He took a moment to look down at the children, who were now giggling at something, and Omera would have bet anything that he had at least a small smile on his face.

He turned to her. “The job I got shouldn’t take more than a day or two,” he said right off the bat. Blunt, as always. Omera had no frame of reference for how long bounty hunting usually took, so she just nodded. He held out what looked like a small comm link. She took it and examined it as he talked. “It’s a two-way comm.” He held up another, identical comm link. “I’ll have the other one. Don’t comm unless it’s an emergency.”

Right. Hard to be sneaky when a comm link was going off. “Will you comm me when you can, then?”

He seemed surprised by her request and didn’t answer for a few moments. She wasn’t quite sure what he was thinking, if he was just unused to checking in with a home-base on a job or genuinely surprised she wanted to talk to him. She looked over at the kids and waited.

“I will try.” He sounded confused, which really only meant that he had a slightly less purposeful tone than usual.

“It’s just…” she started, trying to think of how to articulate her feelings so he wouldn’t be frightened off or even more confused. “We’ll miss you.” Hm. Of course the children would miss him, but that’s not the reason she wanted him to comm. “I’ll miss you. I like talking with you.” She didn’t doubt that he’d probably say very little over the comm (he spoke very little in general), but if she couldn’t have him beside her, having him through comm was better than nothing. “And I want to know you’re...well, maybe safe isn’t the right word. Alive?” She considered it, then nodded. “Yes. I want to know you’re alive and coming back to us.”

He was, again, quiet for a while before nodding. “I’ll try to comm before nightfall, maybe in the morning. Jobs are...unpredictable at best, but I’ll try.” He reached out a hand and brushed his fingers against her wrist, sliding them down to hold her hand. Feeling brave, is he?

She gave him a smile before looking to see if the children were watching. They weren’t, so Omera quickly pressed a kiss to one of the cheekbone-like ridges on his helmet. “Thank you.”

Then Winta ran over to them, squealing about something, and the Mandalorian dropped her hand. Oh, well. Little steps.

A few more minutes and he said it was time for him to meet his contact. He walked to one of the hangar doors that led out of Mos Eisley and Winta followed him out, chattering the whole way.

Omera scooped up the little one that was trying to waddle after them. “Hey, now. Let’s get you some food, okay, little sleepyhead?” He cooed and his ears perked up, and she wondered how much Basic he could actually understand. She suspected he was very good at not understanding them when it came to things he didn’t want to hear. (Like so many children.)

Winta came back, saying the Mandalorian and another man had driven off on swoop bikes, and Omera recruited her for the feeding of their smallest family member.

—

The sound of a blaster jolted Omera awake. She looked around frantically—she was in the berth on the Razor Crest, the little one waking up at her side.

Where was Winta?

Where was the Mandalorian?

She fumbled trying to pull the comm out of her pocket—no messages. She wasn’t sure what was going on, so she wasn’t sure if it warranted a comm to her occupied bounty hunter. What if there had been misfire from a blaster, or something equally non-urgent?She kept the comm in her hand, though, just in case.

She heard the voice of a person she didn’t recognize, though. What was going on? Had Peli brought in a new customer, maybe a friend? Or maybe they were about to be robbed at gunpoint.

She slowly left the berth, scanning around the ship’s lower level. Winta wasn’t in sight. She also hadn’t run up the ramp to explain the sound of a blaster; actually, Omera couldn’t hear her daughter at all. Strange, now that Winta had decided to follow Peli everywhere she could and ask as many questions as possible. Omera decided not to call out, seeing as there was an unknown person with unknown motives who might hear her.

The rifle the Mandalorian had picked out for her was leaning against the wall and she picked it up. Better safe than dead.

She strained to listen to the conversation outside. She couldn’t understand the unknown voice, but Peli was saying something rather loudly: “Now there’s no need to be pointing blasters at people. We can be reasonable.”

Someone was pointing blasters at someone else. Possibly at Winta.

This qualified as an emergency.

But how to comm without alerting the attackers to her presence? And how to keep the baby safe?

She remembered the sliding door of the berth—she could shut the baby in there so he would be safe. And the comm? Hm. Could this comm send text messages? Yes, short ones, it looked like. A quick message—quick to write, quick to read. She sent “DANGER” and hoped he’d understand. Then she tucked the comm away and turned to the baby. “Hush now,” she whispered, willing a smile to her face. “Be very quiet. We’re going to play a hiding game, alright? You hide here. Winta will come find you.” And she shut the sliding door, hoping the child had understood and would stay put.

Alright. Time to figure out what was going on.

She kept her rifle at the ready as she crept over to the door so she could peer out.

A young human or near-human man, dressed much too nicely to actually be from Mos Eisley, was casually pointing a blaster at Peli. Peli had herded Winta behind her and was trying to talk the man down. One of the pig droids had been shot and was smoking on the ground, and the two others were nowhere to be seen.

Was the man alone? Were more of his associates waiting out of sight? Was he trying to rob them? (He was dressed very nicely, looked well fed and clean; he didn’t seem like a desperate thief.) Or was he here for the child?

Omera listened as he spoke. He planned on taking the child that was with the Mandalorian, since “Mando” had made it so easy for him, and her heart went all of kinds of frantic. They had only just arrived on Tatooine, very unexpectedly, and no one had seen them, right? Except...he seemed to think it was Winta, from the pronouns he used and how he was telling her to come over to him, how the bounty said dead or alive, and he’d be fine with either.

Taking deep breaths, Omera brought up her rifle and aimed at the man’s gun-wielding shoulder. Disarm him, at the very least. Element of surprise. No one was taking her children. She waited for the right moment.

He seemed to be losing patience, now. He shot the ground near Peli’s feet, angry, yelling at Winta to come over or he’d shoot the mechanic.

Peli was glaring at the man like she was trying to melt him into slag with her eyes, keeping the girl behind her. Omera was beyond grateful to her.

And then Winta ducked under the woman’s protective arm and said, “Okay. Just please don’t hurt her.” Ah. Her brave daughter, afraid for herself but brave to protect others. Omera was proud and terrified all at once.

But if Winta was near the man, she was in danger of being caught in the crossfire, and that was unacceptable.

So Omera pulled the trigger before Winta could reach the smirking man.

If the man hadn’t shifted to grab the pair of binders on his belt the moment she fired the rifle, the blaster bolt would have hit his shoulder. Painful, disarming, but nonlethal. As it was, the bolt hit his chest and he fell to the ground with a cry, his blaster firing as he fell. Peli cursed and dove out of the way of the stray bolt, and Winta ducked into a ball with a screech, arms over her head

Omera kept her eyes on her target. He did not rise again.

With a sigh, she lowered her rifle. That was not how she wanted that to go.

Winta slammed into her side and Omera carefully held the gun away from her daughter, still partly on edge for any unseen assailants.

A flash of moving metal out of the corner of her eye had her shoving Winta into the ship and pulling her gun up again.

She was very surprised to see the Mandalorian in the doorway, his cape still swinging from his sprint into the hangar, his blaster out. Omera smiled in relief and put down the rifle, setting it down. After looking around the hangar, the man’s gaze stopping momentarily on their motionless assailant, the Mandalorian holstered his blaster.

As soon as Winta saw that the Mandalorian had returned, she ran down the ramp and threw herself against the man, sobbing. He seemed surprised at the girl seeking comfort from him (so was Omera, to be honest), but he gently put one gloved hand on her back and the other on her head, petting her hair as she cried. He was obviously unsure of the specifics of what happened, but didn’t seem in a rush now that the danger was nullified.

The baby cooed from behind Omera, and she turned to see him looking tired and a little grumpy at all the noise. (How had he opened the berth door?) She grabbed the him and followed Winta.

From what she could understand from what Winta was trying to say, Winta had seen the Mandalorian drive away with this man for the job. The young man said he’d learned the Mandalorian and a child he travelled with were a greater prize than the bounty he was sent to find. He had seemed to think Winta was the child in question, and that the two of them would be much more impressive than a single mercenary.

Feeling rather worn out, Omera reached them and joined the hug, leaning against the Mandalorian’s armored shoulder. He took his hand off of Winta’s head to wrap around her, holding her closer. The little one patted Winta’s hair, just as the larger man had, cooing softly. Omera looked up to the man’s visor with a small laugh. The Mandalorian looked at her for a moment, then tilted his head so that the brow of his helmet rested against her forehead.

She grew very, very still. Closing her eyes, she let her head press back slightly against his and let out a sigh. This was the closest she’d ever been to him, pressed close head to toe. And while it certainly wasn’t the kind of kiss she was used to, it gave her that same fluttery feeling, the same warmth, the same peace.

It wasn’t the most comfortable embrace, considering all the beskar and children involved, but all of them were safe and together. It was perfect.

#mandomera #The Mandalorian #Omera #The Mandalorian fanfic #Star Wars fanfic #Paths of Life AU #Baby Yoda #Winta #Peli Motto #Toro Calican

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jackblankhsh · 6 years

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National Christmas Kick-off Day 2017

With the Redskins battling the Giants, one can't help wondering if some epic story is hidden beneath the surface. That a football game, or any sporting event could be more meaningful than the simple details is hardly new. However, notions that perhaps, just maybe, there's an underlying current -- if the Redskins win ancient native gods will rise up, spectral entities emerging in the stadium to slaughter the white devils.

Such thoughts creeping into the foreground I find myself rooting for the racist titled team. It's odd to current company, given they've never seen me so enthusiastic about a sporting event. Even hockey, which I enjoyed enough to play as a youth, I rarely leap out of my seat shouting, "Murder that motherfucker."

And it isn't until Debbie the bartender passes me a shot to soften my mood, whispering, "You know if those gods come back, you're fucking white." -- I realize I'm rooting for my own destruction. No doubt. Yet, I long for it just the same.

Not from sense of social justice, simply the extension of a booze twisted thought aspiring to indirect suicide. For it's been a rough run the last few hours. I don't even remember coming into the bar. The spiral is circling the drain, though what bothers me most is that I feel an odd guilt not wanting to go down the tubes.

Hours earlier, stomach empty and head clear, I took a deep breath then plunged into the maelstrom of family. Opening the door I literally walked into the barrel of a gun.

Dad grunted, "Oh, it's you. There've been robberies."

Instead of uncocking the pistol, he uses it to shoot the top off his beer. Tucking the gun in his pants he waves for me to follow. I've learned over the years not to say no to a man with a gun.

In the living room I find my brother. He looks like a whale beached itself in a recliner. Seeing me he gestures at his kids. My nephews and niece immediately spring into action, turning the chair so he can face me.

"How's things?" he says jolly.

I shrug, "It's been better, but I can't complain."

Work is nothing to talk about, not during family gatherings. I'm sure most folks like to mention job nonsense, however, in my family, such conversations always end with the parental declaration: "You're wasting your life." So it's always safer simply to stay vague. If the bills are paid, and no begging ensues, that's all Pops wants to know.

Besides, I've no desire to inform anyone that selling bootleg porn is not a booming industry. Maybe if I sold it to children, but then I'd have to deal with tweens. That kind of unpleasantness I don't need.

Mom emerges from the kitchen. She hugs me. The aroma of dinner wafts off her, and my mouth starts watering.

She says, "It's just going to be us this year."

"No freeloading cunts," Pops says. Secured in the ass groove he's honed in the couch, Pops drinks his broken beer bottle. Nodding in agreement with some thought, he frowns.

Mom grabs my arm, "Come on. You need to see the bird."

I follow her into the kitchen. She cracks open the oven. Peering inside I see glistening ham covered in pineapple.

Mom giggles, "The turkey tried to fool me by being a pig, but I knew better."

Crusting a margarita glass with her own blend of Vicodin and Xanax, she asks if I'd like a cocktail. I ask if she'd like me to fix her one. Her eyes tear up.

"Lord no," she says, "You go watch the screaming box."

Shooed out of the kitchen I join my brother and Pops. Intrigued by absences, I ask my brother where his wife is. The ten minute explanation of her confinement -- too fat to leave the house -- is made less tragic by the farcical fact my brother is trying to sell the house. Apparently, his family plans to move into a larger home; however, they can't afford the means of moving Momma until they sell the old place. As such, they've been having open houses with her still confined within.

"Mixed results," brother says, "But I'm sure we'll find a buyer."

Pops grumbles, "Sure you won't."

I agree with Pops, but in the interest of holiday conviviality, "It's just a matter of sticking in."

The niece and nephews make their way over to me. The trio is getting less afraid of me over the years. They used to be terrified of the death metal werewolf who infrequently visited; and I don't blame them. I once punted my nephew when he came running at me. His mother insisted the kid wanted a hug, but I know a dangerous gremlin when I see one. Yet, as time's gone by we've softened to one another. I suspect them less of evil, and they trust me to be kind. So I hug them each.

Thanks to my brother using them as servers the kids are great at fetching things. I send them to the kitchen to get me a beer and whiskey. They depart happily. As such I can't help wondering what I'm helping them become. This kind of enabling is never good for anyone.

A flash bang grenade explodes in the living room. When the cacophony clears Mom is standing in front of the TV. Looking serene she says, "Diner is served."

Pops and I head off. The niece and nephews return to push Daddy's chair into the dining room. The table is covered in an array of food worthy of a billionaire's buffet.

Gathered together we say a prayer -- Mom improvising, "Lord, we hope the only Lord, thank you for this bounty. I especially want to thank you for expediting my exit from this evil world of robot mailmen, government vampires, and all around vultures."

"Amen," Pops says. Glaring to kill any follow up, he eyes the room like a sweeping dagger. My brother glances my way. I shrug, and focus on opening a bottle of wine. Having trouble with the cork prompts Pops to toss his gun at me. Fortunately I'm able to manage without shooting the bottle open.

Pops says, "Suit yourself pussy," and dinner commences.

We gorge. No other term applies. The feast is magnificent; Mom out did herself. Yet a certain awkwardness is present. Pops keeps sneaking a look at Mom, sometimes reaching over to pat her hand saying softly, "Great meal honey."

Every time he does my brother clears his throat, and I nod to acknowledge noticing. Still, we act like nothing's unusual, continuing to feed until there's no room left in any belly. There doesn't seem to be anything else to say. Every time an even remotely serious topic surfaces Pops cuts it off. It's almost like he suspects backdoor maneuvers aiming at indirect access to some forbidden topic, and in a way, he's right.

I say, "So I went to the doctor the other day."

"Fuck your doctor," Pops interrupts, "They don't know everything. You keep ya dick wrapped, you'll be fine."

No arguing with that, and no desire to explore it further, not with my Pops, I let the conversation shift.

But eventually there's no way anyone can eat anymore. The nephews and niece pass out in food comas on the floor. Pops undoes his belt. As usual I offer to help Mom with dishes, but just as usual she shakes her head.

She says, "If I don't do it right the sun won't rise."

According to her I know how to do dishes well enough for the ordinary every day, but don't know how to appease the dish gods on special occasions. Maybe if more people did the world wouldn't be the way it is. So, offer made and predictably rejected, I leave her to it.

Pushing my brother into the living room we soon drop into conspiratorial whispers.

My brother says, "What the fuck is up?"

"Hell if I know."

We try not to speculate, waiting instead until Pops enters. He sees us, the looks on our faces broadcasting our thoughts.

He says, "Don't."

"What's up?" I say.

I can see Pops feeling along his belt line for the gun, having forgotten he left it in the dining room. Sighing, shoulders slumping down, he trudges to the couch. Taking a seat he says, "It ain't good."

I turn my brother's chair so we can both look Pops in the eye. Impossible tears float in his eyes. He starts to speak, says nothing, and holds up an empty glass. I go to the liquor cabinet, fetching a bottle of high octane whiskey. After gulping a burning shot, gasping through the sizzle, Pops says, "Your Mom is dying. Cancer. I can't say how long."

Things start to blur after that. I took a long pull from the rocket fuel bourbon. My brother did the same. Then Pops. Then me. The bottle going between us until almost entirely drained.

This might seem arbitrary, a narrative addition out of nowhere, but that's what bad news is. It applies to no logic, or any convenient timing. It arrives unexpected, unwanted, and thoroughly undeniable. The only choice is to accept, or deny, and I have never been one to deny the downside of reality. It's too blunt to ignore without being willfully ignorant.

Mom popped out to announce desert would be on the way shortly. None of us knew what to say. So we said nothing. We just enjoyed the time together -- the best apple pie in the world.

And when the night ended, my brother and his kids driving off, I gave Mom a big hug.

Squeezing her too tight -- she whispered in my ear, "You can't squeeze it out."

She knew we knew.

The night's consumption kicked in, and I found myself in the local bar screaming at a television, believing old gods might be satisfied by a football victory. Yet, at one point I couldn't help laughing. Mom washing dishes to be sure the sun rose, her son shouting at a game to change the world -- we were oddly close in that moment. I knew then, no matter how much I missed her, she would, in a way, always be with me.

#writer #writing #short story #honestyisnotcontagious #comedy #dark comedy #humor #weird #thanksgiving #holiday

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