Your annual reminder that space marines do in fact use autism as a superpower

Idolatry - Getou Suguru

I love aliens and someday I will fuck one

Content warnings: manipulation/blackmail

“Mayday, mayday! Mission control, please come in, this is astronaut Getou Suguru!” The red emergency lights were on, multiple different sirens were going off in the background and Getou had just lost the rest of his crew.

“Mission control, can you hear me?!” He slammed on the control panel, desperately flipping switches and trying to regain control of his failing aircraft. All his training back on Earth hadn’t prepared him for the possibility of a black hole opening up and sucking in half his ship, ripping it apart and taking it somewhere unknown.

“Please, please, please!” There were frantic tears and sweat dripping down Getous face as he tried to get the thrusters back online. His ship was in shambles, slipping further and further into the blackhole.

Looking up through the windshield, his view of space before him was slowly fading away and he felt an intense pull from behind him, almost as if he was being ripped apart himself as he and his ship were pulled into the blackhole.

Getou didn’t think he’d wake up after that. The world had gone completely black, all the oxygen yanked from his body and the cold vacuum of space compressed around him. Getou hadn’t expected to wake up on firm, solid ground. And much less surrounded by otherworldly creatures.

“Is it really him?” He wasn’t sure how he understood the things before him, their voices warbled and distorted, but he could. Getou could only watch with fuzzy edged vision as the creatures crowded around him and their features became clearer.

“It must be! Just look at his face!”

“He’s got the hair as well, and his skin is milky white like in the stories!”

“Our God has returned to us, what a joyous day this is!” Someone cried and Getou was lifted up from the ground and removed from the rubble that was his spaceship. Struggling to breathe, he was sure there were a few cracked ribs under his skin.

“Be gentle now, the journey from the heavens wasn’t kind on him.”

“To the temple, at once!”

Placed on a long gurney, Getou was transported to the temple in question. With his vision going in and out, he could just barely make out the bright blue trees and foreign animal sounds passing him by. The creatures that had lifted him up were now closer to be viewed and Getou could tell they weren’t of human origin.

“Oh, how we’ve waited for this day!” The heat of whatever jungle Getou was in had a light sheen of sweat gathering on his skin, but the warm air helped lull him into a more relaxed state, almost falling asleep despite the situation.

Carried up the steps of the temple, Getou barely came to when he was stripped and submerged into a pool of light green water, nearly scalding him and scented with what appeared to be rose petals floating around him.

“Call the shamans, we need to make sure everything is correct!” There was rustling around him, figures darting in and out of his half lidded gaze. Someone was lifting one of his arms to wash him, immediately letting go when he let out a pained groan.

“He needs medicine, quick!” In an instant something was being poured down Getous throat, an ice cold liquid that spread across his body and made a shiver go through him. There was a heavy silence in the air for a moment as he was observed, and all of a sudden, he felt better.

Sitting up a little straighter in the solid gold tub he could now see, Getou stayed silent as his body was washed. The creatures around him avoided eye contact, bowing their heads when he turned to look at them.

They were gentle, washing the dried blood off Getous face and combing through his hair with their long pointed nails. He’d never received such lavish treatment before, and as he relaxed further into the tub, a man dressed in robes not unlike the ones Getou owned back home came to the side of the tub with a heavy tome, reciting something in an unknown language over Getou.

He was lifted out of the tub and dried gently, dressed in a soft green robe like the man that had prayed over him, and escorted to another room. He could tell this was at the heart of the giant gray stone temple, a skylight and large windows high on the vaulted ceilings letting in plenty of natural light and illuminating the lavish scene in the middle of the room.

In the middle of the room atop a short flight of stairs, sat a golden, red tufted stool only a few feet up from the ground and surrounded by a multitude of pillows and ornate gold decorations. Several oriental rugs were draped across the floor, covering the cool limestone underfoot.

A thick mattress lay just behind the stool with semi-sheer curtains curtains concealing it and the many pillows and blankets atop it. Hundreds of candles were lit around the room as well, lighting up dark corners or simply for decoration around and atop the rugs and stool.

Able to walk on his own now, Getou slowly went up the steps with only a mild drag in his sore legs. Skimming his fingers across the seat of the stool, he walked past it and to the bed, pushing the curtains aside and melting into the squishy mattress.

Even though he couldn’t really keep track of the time, Getou was sure a week had passed since he’d crash landed on this mysterious planet. In that time, he filled in the blanks of what was going on around him.

He was being worshipped as a God, an altruistic being that had fallen from the heavens as foretold in the legends of the people that lived here. Apparently, he was one of many gods and goddesses that the planet believed in, and it just so happened that his sudden appearance aligned with a prophecy that he would arrive.

Not one to live in a lie, Getou had originally wanted to tell the truth once he was able to speak more properly. It wouldn’t be right for them to place such strong faith into him when he truly wasn’t what they wanted, but he found it harder and harder as time went on.

And that was because of the treatment he received. He was bathed everyday, fed delicious meals whenever he wanted and was showered in praise and admiration at every second. To say Getou was soaking up all the attention was an understatement; he was absolutely drowning in it.

“My Lord, may I approach?” It was midday, the sun beaming down through the ceiling directly onto Getou, warming him up and making him radiate with light. A temple worker he’s never seen before enters the room, head bowed and with a familiar set of objects in their hand.

“You may.” Getou quickly noticed the basin, towel and pitcher of water and sat up a little straighter in his stool. It was time for his midday foot bath. You made quick work of the steps and knelt down before him in a moment.

Getou watched as you silently poured the water, keeping your head bowed per usual. Craning his head up to the sky, Getou lazily studied the windows above him. There were no clouds in the sky on this planet, but it didn’t stop the sky from looking beautiful.

“You’re quite handsome, my Lord.” That comment had Getou’s head snapping back down and coming eye to eye with you. No one else had ever made eye contact with him, not even the shamans that spoke with him about sacred texts. The sudden change unnerved him, making him blush.

“I didn’t know you were allowed to look upon me in such a way.” Getou said, dipping his feet into the bath and relaxing his legs. “I am a God, after all. Wouldn’t a comment like that be considered blasphemous?” Regaining control over his suddenly rapid heartbeat, Getou still felt a light veil of heat across his face.

“It would be, if you really were a God in the first place.” Getou nearly choked on his spit as he heard the words come out of your mouth.

“E-excuse me?! I am a God!” His face erupted in a dark blush. This was bad, really bad. The smirk on your face told him all he needed to know; the jig was up, you saw right through him. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still try and keep up the ruse.

“An arrival from the sky may have been foretold in the legends, but you are not what was promised to us.” Your words were quick and concise, an almost harsh tone underlying them. “It was my job to go through the rubble of the craft you arrived in, and I found quite a few things labeled from a planet called ‘Earth’.”

He and Gojo just had to have too much fun with the label maker, didn’t they?

“Earth is what us God's call the place we reside.” Clearing his throat, Getou tried to soothe his burning cheeks.

“Then why did I find this?” Digging into a hidden pocket within your robes, you pulled out a thick manuscript, personally typed and signed by Getou outlining his position within the team and the duties he’d fulfill while on the mission that ultimately brought him here.

The edges of the paper were all burnt and crispy, but most of the pages were still intact. Flipping through them, you showed him all the polaroid pictures that were stuffed inside of Getou in his space suit and at the control panels of the ship, and with Gojo and other crew members.

“I didn’t think a God would carry around so many papers about his job. I thought you just knew.” Tossing the manuscript to the floor, you sprinkled smelling salts into the water and grabbed onto one of Getou’s feet, raising it only slightly as you let him mull over the new information before him.

“So, I assume you’ll have me killed for lying, then?” There was a heavy pit sitting in his stomach, but Getou knew this day would come, it was only a matter of when.

“Kill you? Never!” Your sudden laugh gave him pause.

“Then what? What will happen to me now?”

“I intend to use this information to my advantage.”

“You want to use me to climb the ranks at the temple, don’t you?” Narrowing his eyes, Getou could already see the plan formulating behind your eyes.

“Precisely, my Lord. Over the course of a few months, I will become your most trusted advisor.” Letting go of his foot, your hand slid up Getou’s leg, your pointed nails scraping against his skin. “And before the anniversary of the sun’s return, I will be the highest shaman in the temple. Your right hand, if you may.”

As you spoke, your hand went higher and higher, skimming the edges of his long silken robe and going under it, cupping his knee for a moment before stopping midthigh. If anyone walked in right now, what would they say to the scene in front of them?

“What’s in it for me?” Getou shuddered as your nails dragged lightly along his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake that had his senses tingling. You flashed him a smile, one full of rows of shiny black teeth.

“Why, you get to remain the all powerful God of this land, bestowing wisdom upon the subjects that worship you.” Sidling up to Getous legs, you fully pushed apart his robes to reveal his soft cock. “And…”

“And?” Getou pressed as you trailed off, subtly opening his legs as much as he could with his feet still in the basin. You chuckled at him, hand grabbing gently onto the base of his cock. Getou had come to learn that the creatures on this planet were often colder than he was, and your lukewarm hand was a testament to that.

“And I’ll keep you nice and happy.” Brazenly leaning over his lap, you sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth, your long tongue lapping out and wrapping around him, the tip going all the way down to his balls.

“Ah!” The unexpected pleasure shooting up his spine made Getou curl inward, knocking over the basin and spilling water onto the rugs. His hand shot out to grasp the back of your head, urgently trying to ground himself as his mind turned to mush.

“Don’t worry about the mess, my Lord. I’ll clean it up.” Pulling off his cock, you licked your lips and looked over your shoulders.

“You- what’s your name?” Getou panted, his legs already starting to tremble.

“(Y/N), my Lord.” You grinned, beginning to slowly jerk off his cock.

“(Y/N).” He tested the name on his tongue but he couldn’t speak any further as you thumbed the tip of his cock.

“But you don’t need to worry yourself about that now.” Now that his feet were free, you could slide in between Getou’s legs and get to his cock easier. “Right now, it’s all about you.”

Could you continue the story about hero and villain being captured by the anti super power organization? I really enjoyed and i want more of it

I was actually about to post this story when I got this ask, so perfect timing!  I hope y’all enjoy this next part.  It is a bit long and it’s late so I’m not proofreading super well so I apologize for any typos.  Thanks for reading!

TW: Drugging

Part 1 

“Unit 13, log it as a class B, regular holding will be sufficient,”

“What are you talking about!?” The Hero yelled at the man beside them.

They were restrained on a cold metal table, strapped down with leather at their ankles, wrists, chest, and neck. Various people in lab coats milled around the room around them, ignoring them completely. It was infuriating, even the Villain talked back to them. 

The man next to them seemed to be in charge, they calmly spoke orders to the others.

“Take a blood sample to be sure, we don’t want any surprises,” the man in charge called across the room.

The Hero couldn’t move their head more than a few inches, so they could only see the people right next to them. They felt much too vulnerable locked down without any use of their powers.

If this was a normal situation the Hero would just break out of the ties around them, but there was something in the air that made the Hero feel weak. It was like someone had put gauze between the Hero and their powers. They were still there, they could see them faintly, but they couldn’t get to them.

The Hero’s powers weren’t something that was always with them, but it was always there for them to access. It was a part of them but now it was blocked off. The Hero wasn’t helpless without them, they still knew how to fight. But that added strength was something they couldn’t count on anymore. 

Usually, when they used their powers their regular abilities became enhanced, they were stronger, faster, more agile. If they really focused they could harden their skin, creating their very own armor.

They were almost unstoppable until they met the Villain no one had been a match for them. Now this place easily neutralized them. It was unnerving.

Footsteps by the Hero’s left side broke them out of their thoughts. A woman stood over them with a needle, attached with tubing to a small vial.

“Hey! Get away from me!” The Hero jerked in their binds.

“Sedate it for transport once you’re done with that,” the man in charge didn’t even look up, they were focused on writing something on the clipboard they held.

“Will do,” the woman nodded. She pinched up the skin on the Hero’s inner elbow, inserting the needle.

The Hero paused their struggling as they watched the vial fill up with their blood. The woman pulled the vial from the tube, securing the lid and handing it over to the Hero the man on the other side. She then pulled the needle out of the Hero’s arm, placing a bandaid there to stop any bleeding.

It was all very confusing. They hadn’t done anything to hurt them, not since the guards had shocked them to get them out of their cell. No one had talked to them, or even looked them in the eye, it was like they were some inanimate object to be observed.

The woman was looming over him again, this time holding a syringe filled with a white liquid.

“Hey! Stop! What is that? Get away from me! Didn’t you hear me I said GET AWAY!” The Hero yelled as the woman pushed their head to the side, injecting whatever was in the syringe into their neck.

“What was that! Hey, listen to me what was that!” The Hero yelled as the woman removed the syringe.

“Ok, you can move it back to holding,” with that the man walked out, followed shortly after by the woman.

The Hero felt a wave of cold, numbness sweep through them.

The guards from before appeared at the Hero’s sides, they began to undo their restraints.

As soon as their wrist was free the Hero tried to punch up at the nearest guard. All they could do was move it about an inch off the table before it fell back down. 

The guards looked at each other and laughed.

The Hero’s brain felt like putty, unable to fully understand what was going on.

An overwhelming sense of fear overtook them. They suddenly missed the cold indifference of the lab coats. It was better than the cruel hunger that shone in the eyes of the guards above them.

The Hero was pulled up off the table, and set on their feet. They blinked sluggishly, the room spun around them.

Invasive hands held them up and began to push them forward.

“Stop-” the Hero slurred.

The guards ignored them.

The Hero’s eyes fluttered open and closed. Time seemed to jump forward every time they blinked.

It felt like no time had passed before one of the guards was unlocking the bar door to their cell. 

The Hero was shoved unceremoniously into their cell, they stumbled and tripped over their own feet, falling to the ground.

They tried to get their hands under them, to push back up to a standing, or at least sitting position. Before they could a kick from one of the guards stomped down on their back. They laughed as the Hero’s face slammed into the concrete floor.

********

The Villain closed their eyes, silently thinking, plotting. Since they first got here they never yelled or screamed, they simply sat and thought, waiting for the right moment or opportunity to escape and kill everyone in this godforsaken place.

It was a bit hard to think when you have to listen to two idiots beating the shit out of your nemesis next door. While they were gone it had been a few hours of blissful peace, but as soon as the Hero was dragged back into their cell that was over. 

From the way they had walked in the Villain could tell the Hero had been drugged, they were being too complacent not to be.

If the Hero had just been left to lay quietly in a drug-induced stupa everything would have been fine.

But of course, the assholes who run this place wouldn’t be happy with just kidnapping and drugging people.

They had to have their fun messing with the powerful beings rendered powerless. It probably was an ego thing, these grunt workers, clearly lower in the chain of command than the scientists around here, would get a rush from beating up Heros.

“Get ‘ff...me,” a slurred complaint from the Hero next door distracted the Villain momentarily.

The Villain couldn’t see what was going on due to a concrete wall between their cells. But they could clearly hear fists connecting with a body. Occasionally this was followed by the Hero’s pitiful attempts to fight back, usually entailing a threat spoken in a weak voice, almost too quiet to hear. It didn’t exactly inspire fear.

“ st-” the Hero cut themselves off with a groan of pain.

The Villain rolled their eyes, this was getting really boring. They rolled off their cot and walked over to the front of their cell. They grabbed the bars as looked over to the Hero’s cell, they could only see a small sliver of it.

“Are you quite finished in there?” The Villain spoke loud enough to be heard in the Hero’s cell. 

The sounds of the fighting stopped.

“Why do you care?” One of the guards exited the Hero’s cell to stand outside the bars of the Villain’s.

“Because it's loud. It’s getting on my nerves.”

“And why would I care about what you want?” The guard sneered.

“I don’t care what you care about. Just try to finish proving your machoness by beating up someone who can’t fight back, and go away so I can have some peace,” The Villain deadpanned, gazing at the guard with a bored look.

The guard reddened, whether with anger or embarrassment it was unclear.

They reached through the bars grabbing the Villain’s shirt and jerked them forward against the bars, “You think you’re so fucking funny!”

The Villain’s expression didn’t change, they left their hands hanging limply at their sides. Their lack of a reaction seemed to only make the guard angrier.

“Well if it’s such a problem for you, you can deal with it,” the guard growled.

They released the Villain, moving to unlock their cell. Before the Villain could make a move the guard grabbed the Villain by their shirt, pulling them out into the hall.

The Villain scowled, trying to stay upright as the guard moved and shoved them into the Hero’s cell.

Looking down they saw the Hero laying on their side. There was a small puddle of blood next to their face, coming from their nose and a few cuts littered around their face. They had their arms up around their head, hands on the back of their neck, trying to shield themselves.

The Villain turned back to the guard in the hall, “what do you expect me to do with that?” they gestured at the Hero, “I mean I would be happy to kill them for you but do you really need my help to do that?” The Villain leaned back against the wall, crossing their arms.

“Clean them up,” The guard in the hall motioned to his partner. The partner walked out of the cell using keys to open a solid gray door between all the bars. They brought out a bucket, bringing it to the Hero’s cell and dropping it inside.

Water sloshed out onto the floor. Next to the bucket, the guard dropped a few rags.

“Boss doesn’t like blood.”

The Vilain looked down at the bucket and laughed, “Yeah, no. Sorry, I’m not a nurse. You made the mess clean it up yourself.”

The guard ignored them, sliding the bar door into place, “Clean them and the floors. If when I get back it’s not clean, I will kill you. And don’t kill them, boss doesn’t like it when the new ones die, if they end up dead so are you.”

With that the guards walked away, leaving the Villain alone with the Hero.

The Villain rolled their eyes.

Fucking hell.

“Get up,” the Villain stayed where they were against the wall, yelling over to the Hero.

The Hero didn’t move.

The Villain pushed off the wall, trudging reluctantly to the Hero’s side. There was no fun in being around the Hero if they couldn’t try to kill them.

The Villain nudged the Hero’s leg with their foot. 

They curled in on themselves more, pulling their arms around their head.

“Move, I need to clean underneath you,” The Villain spoke in an annoyed monotone. 

“If... ‘f your gon-gonna kill me... get on ‘th it,” The Hero’s speech was slurred and broken. Whatever drugs they were on weren’t enough to completely knock them out, but they were very close. 

“I really wish I could. Really I do, but killing you will have to wait. Now move or I’m going to kick you,”

The Hero looked confused.

They weren’t the brightest in the first place but these drugs make them idiotic.

The Villain rolled their eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Well, I told you,” the Villain aimed a kick at the Hero’s side. It was a relatively soft blow, but the Hero yelped loudly.

“Move. I don’t wanna get my hands dirty dragging you, you’re all bloody.”

The Hero pushed their hands against the floor, trying to pick themselves up off the ground. They got a few inches off the ground before one of their arms gave out. The other slipped on the blood-slick concrete. The Hero fell on their face, groaning in pain.

“Jesus Christ fine,” the Villain stepped over the Hero, moving above their head to grab their under their arms.  The Hero jumped at their touch but didn’t have the strength to fight them, even if they wanted to.

The Villain dragged the Hero over to the wall, resting them against it. 

A pool of blood had collected beside the Hero from their nose. The Villain took one of the rags and began to sop up the puddle.

They glanced back over to the Hero, “Stop bleeding so much, I don’t want another puddle to clean up.”

The Villain chucked the blood-soaked rag next to the bucket. There wasn’t that much blood on the ground, and it cleaned up pretty easily. What the Villain didn’t want to do was clean up their drugged up nemesis over there, but they didn’t want to die more, so they grabbed another rag. They dipped the rag in the water, ringing it out before moving over to the Hero.

There wasn’t too much blood on the Hero’s shirt, most of it had run onto the floor.  

The Villain ran the cloth over the Hero’s chin, stopping the latest wave of red from dripping down onto their chest. 

The Hero looked... afraid. An emotion the Villain hadn’t seen on the Hero before. At least not naturally. 

Perhaps the drugs stripped away the Hero’s ability to hide their true feelings, or maybe the vulnerability of their current state was getting to them.

The Villain’s mouth twitched with a small smile. The Hero would have never let the Villain get this close usually, because they knew what the Villain could do when they got close to someone.

Not in this place, where their powers were blocked, but out in the real world, the Villain could inflict pain with just a touch.

It worked from far away on the weaker-minded part of the population, but up close, touching, it was easy for the Villain’s power to cause its victim immense pain.  

Depending on what the Villain wanted and how hard they were focusing they could make the Hero relive their most painful memories, access their deepest insecurities and worries, or they could simply light every nerve in the Hero’s body up with pain.

The Hero must logically know that the Villain can’t do that here, but the memory must still be scaring them.

The Hero had never been vulnerable before they met the Villain. No one had been able to stand a chance against them with their enhanced abilities. 

But the Villain didn’t fight physically, or at least they didn’t need to. The Villain was actually quite skilled at martial arts but often used their powers instead to destroy their opponent without lifting a finger. 

“Scared?” The Villain smirked, keeping their hand on the Hero’s chin.

The Hero blinked for a moment before they seemed to register the question.

“no..’m not,” the Hero slurred, tripping over their words. They sluggishly moved their arms up to push at the Villain’s hand holding their face. 

“No, no, leave it. Wouldn’t want me to slip and...” the Villain pushed on the Hero’s broken nose, eliciting a curse from the Hero.

“I can’t kill you but there is a large space between not killing you and treating you nicely. If I were you I wouldn’t give me a reason to explore that space,” The Villain released the Hero’s chin with a jerk to the side.

The Hero looked at the Villain, most likely tried to glare at them, but their face was puffy from bruises and their eyes were unfocused from the sedative, so it didn’t have the intended threatening air.

The Villain pushed their hand into the Hero’s hair, it was ruffled from the guards' onslaught. Also damp, with blood or sweat the Villain didn’t know. They gripped the Hero’s hair to push their head back against the wall. With the other hand, they wiped at the blood on the Hero’s face.  

Their nose was bleeding heavily, but small streams of blood also trickled from the cuts on their left eyebrow and the middle of their forehead. 

The Hero breathed heavily, their eyes were shifted between a glassy confused look and one of anger and fear.  They were clearly fighting hard against what the guards had given them, but it didn’t seem to be doing much. They could barely move their limbs, the Villain would have loved this back on the outside. It seemed a waste to only be able to experience it here.

“Alright,” the Villain moved the rag off the Hero’s face, “all done,” They dropped the rag and returned their hand to the Hero’s cheek.

The Hero flinched. 

The Villain traversed the Hero’s face with their hand. Inspecting their enemy at such in such close quarters was fascinating.

The two stared at each other. Silently trying to figure out how their relationship would operate in this new situation.  

The Villain finally pulled away, giving the Hero’s hair a playful tug before they released their grip.  

The Hero breathed a sigh of relief as the Villain stepped away.

The Villain walked to the other side of the Hero’s cell and sat down opposite them. They watched as the Hero slowly succumbed to the drugs, falling to their side. The Hero’s breathing deepened and evened out signifying they had fallen unconscious. 

Still, the Villain watched. 

Orbs Are Bad News Part 1/2 - (m/m) Gerrit/Llewellyn

I ran out of Eliseo/Padgett stories, so I’ll post the rest of what I’ve got. Thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged, and/or left nice comments. This community is truly so kind!

Anyway, I love these characters, so much. :)

MESS, sorta NSFW probably, sneezing on person (who likes it) - Elven sorcerer Llewellyn gets his hands stuck to a magic orb while he has a cold and has to be taken care of by his FWB(?) half-elf fighter Gerrit Truestride who gets off on that sort of thing. 

I fricking forgot Gerrit’s last name. This might be it??

---

"Okay, we don't know what we're dealing with here, so let's be careful." Gerrit pushed open the heavy wooden door and lifted his torch to illuminate the room inside. The firelight played over several tables covered in intriguing objects and glinted teasingly off of more than one hint of gold. Gerrit himself spotted a stolid wooden chest in the corner and his heart rate quickened. "Jackpot," breathed Remembrance, the party's resident ne'er-do-well. She rubbed her hands together, sharp nails clicking. Gerrit was sure she was assigning price tags to the lot of it, except for whatever she hid in her bags for herself, of course. "I know a guy in the capitol who'll pay through the nose for that pervy little statue there." "That is a religious object," chastised Cordes with a haughty tsk. "It's used in rituals of worship for the goddess Fortuna." "Oh, I'm sure he'll be worshipping," cackled Remembrance, and she slipped past Gerrit into the vault. "Few hundred gold and he'll be rubbing out a grand ol' prayer." Her pointed tail waved with greedy delight. "Hey! The proper course of action would be to bring it back to a temple!" Cordes went after her, pushing Gerrit aside. The half-elf grumbled but wasn't surprised. "At least TRY not to touch anything cursed," he called. He'd been the one to organize this little band, but although he was the one who reported to their patron, he had precious little influence over what they did. They were happy to point to him when some upstart had a problem with the party, though. Ingrates. He turned to the last member of the group. "What about you, Llewellyn? I thought I saw some books on the far table."

"Lead the way," replied the sorcerer, and his usually mellifluous voice sounded strained. Purple shadowed the hollows under his faintly luminous silver eyes, and he had his nose tucked into his handkerchief again. Gerrit hadn't spent much time around full elves, but he'd always believed they couldn't get sick, at least not like a human or dwarf. Llewellyn had been dragging since Saints' Day, though, and seemed to have come down with a flu. His skin, where visible under his fitted robes, was wan. "Sure," said Gerrit, and he stepped into the room, holding the door out so that Llewellyn could join him. "You, uh, you don't look like you're feeling any better." "Oh," said the sorcerer, "I'm not. I ran out of tonics." He entered the vault and walked over to one of the tables, investigating a strangely shaped glass bowl. "But as we were already down here, I'm not sure what you want me to say. There's no inn at which I might rest my weary bones."  "Cordes could make you an herbal remedy," Gerrit grumped. He went over to the chest he'd seen earlier and smashed the lock off with the pommel of his dagger. He didn't need any fancy lockpicking tools like Remembrance's. And hitting something felt good when his companions were all intent to be annoying, acerbic, or both. "I suppose," Llewellyn replied, sounding uncertain as his voice wavered. Gerrit tried to ignore the way his ears heated at that. That was the tone that overtook the elf when he was preparing to sneeze. It wasn't any of Gerrit's concern. His occasional roll in the hay (literal and figurative) with Llewellyn did not make it easier or more appropriate to acknowledge his odd attractions, especially since they were currently ransacking a dungeon with a priest and a psychopath. He focused his attention on searching the chest, and he was rewarded with a heavy coin purse, a stack of calfskin-bound journals, and a ruby the size of a robin's egg. He whistled. Llewellyn gasped. "Hah- hahttsch-ow!" "'Ow'?" Cordes appeared from behind a bookshelf, one arm wrapped tightly around a thick rug, the other reaching for his pack of salves. "What is it? Cut? Burn?" When Gerrit looked, their sorcerer was rubbing his nose with his left hand. "Bruise," Llewellyn said. He lifted his right hand, in which he held a blue crystal orb that was knotted inside a thin lattice of gold chain. "I got my hand caught." He'd apparently run the thing into his nose when trying to cover his sneeze. Llewellyn's thin face was already dusted pink from the embarrassment. Gerrit couldn't help but laugh. "Very graceful," he chuckled. "I will thank you for keeping it to yourself," Llewellyn replied, and that was elvish dialect for "fuck you." Gerrit laughed again.  Cordes had leaned over to see the orb better in the firelight. He was the only one among them whose vision was hindered by the dim light. "What kind of artifact is this?" he asked. "It doesn't resemble anything I've studied." "I'm not sure." Llewellyn held it up to the torch. The orb lit up like a lamp, but otherwise nothing happened. "Whatever this chain is, though, it's very prone to tangling." He tried to shake it off his wrist and failed. This was a task for both hands, and he set to freeing himself. And kept trying. And trying. Gerrit frowned. "What are you doing? Cordes, would you get that off of him?" "Sure." The priest reached out to help, but Llewellyn suddenly backed away out of reach. "Uh... I'm not trying to steal it, elf." "Oh, I would let you take it," Llewellyn said, scowling. "But I have a feeling we would be in for some trouble if you touch it now." He held up both hands. His palms were wrapped around the crystal and bound with the ball in that thin gold chain. "I am... I'm stuck."

---

"STUCK," hooted Remembrance again. She was crouched at the entrance to the dungeon - a root-cellar-like set of doors they'd found in a small bandit settlement - and hauling out a heavy pack stuffed with loot. In the daylight, she looked menacing and out of place, her horns, dusky maroon skin tone, and black eyes setting her apart from this land's primarily human residents. "And you even said not to touch any curses!" "I recall you said so as well," said Cordes, who looked exactly like a run-of-the-mill human resident except for the star-like scar on his left temple. He reached down and grabbed Gerrit's hand, steadying the half-elf as he climbed out of the hole. Llewellyn was hanging uncomfortably on Gerrit's back, arms looped around the other man's neck. They'd tried to find a more dignified way to get him out of the dungeon, but he couldn't manage the ladder well enough without the use of his hands. "The artifact didn't react to my detection spell," sniffed Llewellyn disdainfully, and Gerrit was quick to set him down before that sniffing could become another sneeze. He didn't want to blush in front of the others. "There must be someone in Veigh who can help you," Gerrit said. "We'll just swing by on our way to the capitol." The city was three days out of their way, but they couldn't have Llewellyn stuck this way for the two week trip back to their patron. With his hands bound, he couldn't cast any spells that required him to gesture, and that was almost all of them. He'd effectively rendered himself completely useless in combat. Veigh had a chapter of the Mages Guild in residence, though, and if no one there could help, they might at least be able to send Llewellyn on ahead via a transportation spell.  "I will hope there is." Llewellyn looked pale and worn, though his fine features still exuded the otherworldly beauty of the high elves. His hair was a silky black, although mostly covered by his hood, and the contrast made his silver eyes look even more curious. He fumbled for a minute at his waist before scowling heavily. "I can't get into any of my bags, of course..." "What do you need?" asked Gerrit. Remembrance had started off through the trees, humming, her bulging pack swaying with her sinuous movements. Gerrit really didn't want to let her get too far ahead, not least because she was scary good at concealing herself in the foliage and might slip the party completely. However, Cordes was with her, and Llewellyn couldn't exactly fend for himself right now. "My handkerchief..." The elf's voice had gone wavery again, and Gerrit watched as his nostrils flared. Fuck. Gerrit hurriedly patted his pockets until he produced his own handkerchief, or what he bothered with when necessary. It was a large square of flannel, rough around the edges. It wasn't embroidered or monogrammed like Llewellyn's, but he figured by now the flannel was a hell of a lot cleaner, and it was soft for an irritated nose. "Here, take mine." Llewellyn held out his hands plus the orb for it, breath hitching, but no matter how Gerrit tried to drape the cloth, it kept slipping off of the artifact. He supposed he could try to tie it around the- Llewellyn made a desperate sound and tipped his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. His breath was coming in soft pants now. And he was raising the orb reflexively.  Gerrit couldn't let him whack himself in the face again, so he did the only other thing he could think of. With one hand he reached out and took Llewellyn by the shoulder. With the other, he lifted the handkerchief and pressed it over the elf's nose. His fingers settled firmly on either side of Llewellyn's nostrils, and none too soon. After another half-hitch, Llewellyn ducked forward again with a quiet but insistent sneeze. "Happtsch! Gerrit was sure he was beet red. “Bless you,” he mumbled. Through the cloth, Llewelyn’s nose felt hot, and any gentle pressure resulted in a bit of a squish. “Let me just…” "Whh- wait-" Llewellyn leaned into the handkerchief. "I'm nh- I'm not done hhH-" His eyes slipped shut and he gasped again. Gerrit swallowed and tried to ignore the tenting of his breeches. "R-roger that." He could feel Llewellyn's nostrils twitching against his fingers. "Hh...Haah- Hapttschuh! Snrk... Aptschiu!" His body rocked, and he took a half-step forward. Gerrit could hear the thick sound of congestion in the elf's nose as he tried to stave off another sneeze. "Blow your nose," he said. "It will help." Llewellyn hesitated, but in the end, he had to comply. There was nowhere for the mucus to go except out. He started to blow with a gurgle. Gerrit moved the hand from his shoulder to start rubbing Llewellyn's back. The handkerchief and his fingers were rapidly growing damp, but he really didn't mind. "There you go."  He held the handkerchief to Llewellyn's nose until the elf moved back on his own. His nose was red and tender looking, and his cheeks were flushed rosy. He didn't seem to want to meet Gerrit's eyes. Gerrit didn't mention it. He didn't really want to look at Llewellyn either right now. It had been a while since the elf had looked so very fuckable.  He put the handkerchief in an easily-accessible outside pocket of his vest.  "Ready to go?"  Llewellyn coughed lightly. "Yes." "Excellent." Gerrit gestured for Llewellyn to precede him, and the two of them headed out through the trees, following the sounds of Cordes negotiating the underbrush and swearing about it. --- Travel proved easy enough once they made it to the road. They were fortunate not to meet anyone else along the way. The party could handle a group of bandits without their sorcerer, but they had their treasure to worry about, and Remembrance always drew stares, and sometimes aggression, even from normal travelers. Gerrit thought her skills more than made up for the extra negative attention they drew. And anyway, Remembrance was crazy but she wasn't evil. She did better out on the road than in town, but that was probably true of all of them. Llewellyn kept up with her pace, but it was clearly a struggle. He was usually fairly quiet, but he didn't speak at all as they walked, focusing on breathing and not devolving into coughing or more sneezing. There were a few times when Gerrit hastily reached into his pocket, at the ready, but Llewellyn fought back the itch with admirable determination. He kept his nose from running by sniffling heavily, which sounded somewhere between awful and revolting. Cordes commented on it multiple times with disgust, but nothing could be done. Llewellyn held his tongue, and Gerrit was reluctant in this case to offer the handkerchief without being asked. They found a place to camp about half an hour outside the small village of Tewks. Remembrance cleared out some brush to make a flat area for the bedrolls and then promptly decided she'd rather sleep in a tree with everything she owned. She found a good, solid oak a few yards from the camp and ensconced herself in the crux of its branches. She had a good view of the road in either direction and volunteered to take the second watch in the middle of the night, which was her favorite time. Gerrit agreed to take the first watch as Cordes started to set up his tent. The priest refused to sleep on the ground and always took an extra fifteen minutes to erect a curious one-person canvas canopy. It wasn't even large enough to sit up inside, but whatever. The priest never asked anyone else to haul it along, so Gerrit wouldn't complain. These arrangements left him and Llewellyn alone together on one side of the fire, and he supposed that was preferable during the orb situation anyway. Llewellyn couldn't handle his own bedroll, help with the fire, or unpack any of their supplies. Gerrit realized he would probably have to help the elf eat, too. And... Well, when he noticed Llewellyn fidgeting uncomfortably, Gerrit took him out into a thicker copse to see to his other needs. They didn't talk about it... Llewellyn could hardly undo his own buttons, though, and it wasn't the first time Gerrit had taken over. By the time the fire was hot enough to cook over, Llewellyn had tucked himself up to sit on a tree stump, exuding an aura of furious self-reproach. Cordes took some jerky into his tiny tent with him - for some reason. Gerrit made up two bowls of pottage and sat himself on the ground at the roots of the stump. He put one bowl on the ground for himself and then held up the other. "Hungry?" "Not particularly," Llewellyn replied, voice blunted with congestion. He coughed. "But you're going to make me eat something, aren't you." "I'd prefer you do it willingly." Gerrit tapped the spoon on the side of the bowl. "Come on. It's hot. You'll feel better." Llewellyn growled in a manner more suited to orcs than elves. "I feel like an invalid." Gerrit sighed. "Well, if it makes you feel better, we can pretend you lost your arms in an owlbear attack very tragically." He could feel Llewellyn's fiery glare on him and smiled a little. "Look, we've all done stupid things while adventuring. I'm sure you remember when I tripped and knocked myself out on that knight's shield during the tournament." "I remember," replied the elf, begrudgingly. "Besides, you're sick on top of the whole orb thing. Maybe your detection spell wasn't sensitive enough. Maybe the thing's not even cursed! Maybe it's supposed to do this, and we just don't know why." "I have a hard time believing that. What possible purpose could this serve?"  Gerrit shrugged. "Don't ask me. Dad says my mother was a druid, but I haven't got a magical bone in my body." He tilted his head. "We could always try smashing it?" Llewellyn's rejection was forceful. "Do you want to explode?!" Gerrit chuckled. "Not really." Llewellyn sighed. Gerrit held out a spoonful of pottage. Feeding both Llewellyn and himself was a bit difficult, but Gerrit did well enough when he could alternate. It would be better if he could use both hands equally like Cordes, but he couldn't, and so he didn't. He just thought about it wistfully as he worked. Llewellyn ended up eating most of his bowl, then went back to sitting quietly and sniffling. Gerrit finished the rest and put the utensils aside to deal with later. And... Even though Llewellyn hadn't asked, he drew out his handkerchief again. "Hey," he began, trying not to sound awkward. "You wanna blow your nose?" No one else was paying attention and Llewellyn didn't need to inhale any more of that crap. The elf gave him a shitty side-eye. "Come on," said Gerrit. "Don't be like this." He patted the ground in front of him encouragingly as if Llewellyn was a recalcitrant cat. "I'm fine," said Llewellyn, and then betrayed himself with a quick breath. "Hah--" "Come on," Gerrit repeated, "before you make a mess." Llewellyn came down off the stump to sit in front of him, legs tucked underneath, and rested the orb on Gerrit's thigh to balance himself. His eyes were pinched with reluctance, but Gerrit could see that the elf's nostrils were already damp. "Hah- hh- hurry," Llewellyn gasped. Again, Gerrit reached out with the handkerchief, enfolding his companion's nose. He could feel Llewellyn's breath fluttering against his hand through the fabric and hear quite clearly how it kept catching on congestion.  "Hah-hngk- Hahgkttscht!" Llewellyn ducked forward with the force of it and Gerrit steadied him with a hand on his hip. "Ngkttsch! Hnggktxch!!" Gerrit bit his lip sharply to keep from saying anything, but his body was singing with arousal. Llewellyn hiccuped a short gasp and Gerrit pulled the handkerchief away to present a clean corner. The current spot had become soaked and silvery. "Bless," he managed after a moment, and he carefully readjusted the cloth. "Are you going to sneeze again?" Llewellyn nodded, eyes teary with the effort of the first bunch. Gerrit wasn't surprised; the elf had been holding back since they left the dungeon. He couldn't imagine it had been comfortable, but Llewellyn had his pride. He never would let Gerrit give him love bites either. Annnd Gerrit was going to have to stop thinking about that. "Haptsch!" Easier said than done. Really. But Llewellyn's comfort came first. "Hahkptsch!" The sorcerer groaned softly. "Hah- hh- Hgnaptscxhx!"  Gerrit did his best to assist Llewellyn through the fit. He kept the handkerchief secure, moving it when necessary to keep it dry enough. He steadied the elf when the sneezes bent his body or when he felt faint from lack of breath. He even massaged Llewellyn's nose for him when he was trying to blow it and the congestion was stubbornly refusing to move. By the time he felt finished enough to lean back, Llewellyn was flushed and light-headed, swaying where he sat. Gerrit was sweating and needed a towel. "........Thanks," murmured Lleyellyn, eventually. "Yeah," said Gerrit. "Sure." He swallowed. "Let's wash up." He helped Llewellyn to his feet and they went a little way to a creek (generously; it was little more than a ditch through the woods). Gerrit gently washed Llewellyn's face, careful of his tender eyes and nose, and sent him back to camp to lay down for the night. He lingered at the water's edge to wash the handkerchief and, well, to take other matters in hand. Llewellyn was completely out when he returned, and Gerrit was grateful. He smoothed the elf's bangs back and then settled beside the fire to take watch. The woods in the dark were full of the sounds of insects and small animals moving in the undergrowth. And Llewellyn snoring and sniffling in his sleep. Safe sounds. Gerrit rested his chin on his hand and looked toward the road. Damn orb. It was going to be a long way to Veigh.

winner takes it all; pt 1 | a discord thread with @epiitaphs + @consultingsister

ALEX

It had been 48 hours since she had last closed her eyes, and they stung with exhaustion. Alex couldn’t tear them away from the door though, knowing what was coming. She was about to watch her life fall apart, for the third time.

It would play out something similar to the events of two days earlier. He would be hauled in, bag over his head and hands bound together with multiple zip ties. They only managed to catch her because her weakness was known. They were monitoring Sams home, watching for any trace of the prize they were after, Sam still had the alarming bruise on the left side of his face where he had been knocked unconscious. They were tied up and transported to the government black site, to here. Where she had no real choice but to sign away her life in the hopes it might keep her family safe too. She had turned out Sams rational protest at the sordid series of events to state Mycroft dead in the eye. She knew a predator when she locked eyes with one. This wasn’t a rescue attempt, it was a death sentence. But once she could live with. 

From the other side of the mirrored glass, she watched that door unblinking. She could have been in that room, she could have taken him in herself. Yet she knew for certain if there wasn’t a bulletproof layer between them then Sebastian would kill her. He still might, given the chance. He still saw the red flags throughout his time with Moriarty as little romantic hints. He had no objectivity, although he had no reason to either. Why fear the man when killing you would be such a heavenly way to die?

She had told Sam to go home, promised she wouldn’t be far behind. He had the destruction to pick up after their flat had been raised by swat teams. He didn’t need to watch what was about to happen, he deserved more than that. Seeing a cornered caged animal was horrifying in itself but when it was someone you knew? Someone you cared about? This was something Alex needed to bare alone.

Or with whoever opened the door she had her back to.

SHERLOCK

Perhaps it was because he didn’t believe that he had ended up in hell. It had more filing cabinets than he imagined. More interrogation rooms. At least Mycroft was happy. Although he didn’t smile much, he walked around with a self-satisfied air. Mycroft Holmes was not a bad man but he was perhaps petty. For example, he didn’t need to haul Alex Moran and Doctor Prescott from their home in the middle of the night. It as just because he could. Sherlock had handed over the keys to the kingdom and Mycroft was happy enough pretending to be the King. No Jim, Morland getting old; a black hole was forming and Sherlock had intended to get as many people to safety as he could before the end. Only, watching Alex give nothing for six hours didn’t exactly feel like safety. Mycroft taking more than he needed because he could wasn’t what he wanted. Maybe he was the clever one, he certainly got everything he wanted. 

Sherlock was tired. He thought he might sleep more when he was dead. In the hours since Alex had agreed to everything Sherlock had done nothing but stare at a laptop screen, read through documents and guess at where to find Sebastian Moran. At least this one, he considered, would be satisfying. 

For a moment, he stood in the hallway, one door to his left (soon, they would bring in Sebastian, shine a spotlight on his face and demand from him) and to his right, the safety of the observation room. Maybe he could sit and sleep for the next twenty-minutes. Only, when he opened the door the feeling of lightning shot through him, energising him. That bastard. How could Mycroft not tell him; how could he allow him, after all their planning, to just walk in on her again. 

It was panic that tightening around his throat. He could hardly close the door and walk away now. He didn’t want to either. “Alex?” His voice was hoarse, unused for days, only to give an address for Seb. “Alex, I didn’t-- I had no idea--”

ALEX

She expected.... well, she didn't know that what she had expected. But certainly not a man who had called her, who she had watched die. She had seen it, seem him plummet to his death through the scope. That definitely wasn't a trick, nor was the voicemail that sounded so genuine. It had been two months of complete silence. She had watched her back, watched her brothers back, watched Sam struggle from afar all hoping beyond hope that there would be a chance of it being a mistake. Except as she stared into those big green eyes she felt nothing but pure rage. How dare he?

He said her name like he hadn't said much in years. Almost six years exactly. He had held her through the night and known it was going to be goodbye. And she had buried the person that loved him since then. Years of dodging direct contact, of trying to stay just out of sight to save face. And now he stood right in front of her, defying all logic.

She moved across the room to him as fast as physically possible, but instead of reaching out to pull him close, her balled fist connected with his jaw in a strong right hook. Her lips curled up in s snarl, half out of breath just from trying not to strangle him them and there. " Code. Fucking. Zero" was all she could manage through gritted teeth, grey eyes glaring at him with unbridled fury.

SHERLOCK

He saw it coming. Passionate was how he might describe Alex Moran. Psychotic would probably be more accurate. And he could already hear Celia saying you enjoyed her touching you too much. Only she wasn't talking to him now. Or he wasn't talking to her. He guess there was a difference. He couldn't really do anything to stop her but he didn't try. He braced himself for the pain and fell backwards, holding his jaw with a small whine. "I know-- I know." 

Sherlock rarely cried but shame crashed over him like a wave. Anger too. Why was Mycroft doing this to him? Punishment for picking Alex over Cee, maybe? He let the force of her punch carry him to the floor and he stayed there. "I am dead. I am dead. Alex you were not-- I wasn't-- I have no excuse, I was not supposed to even be in the country but that-- I needed you to--- move on." 

But she had moved on, she would go home to Sam after all this and that was exactly what he wanted. "What can I say," he was begging, "what can I do? I am so so sorry, this is not what I wanted."

ALEX

She stood there in ill fitting borrowed clothes, the t shirt she has slept in still underneath. Her hair was wild and falling out of its messy hun by now, a hot mess if she had ever looked one. She pulled back her leg to aim a kick at him on the floor, and stopped. Her shoulders heaved with heavy breaths. This was a conversation they needed to have, another time she could kick the life out of him for scaring her like that. But right now? Right now she had enough to think about. 

Alex stepped back, folding her arms across her chest. It was hardly proud, but it was something. She couldn’t look at him right now. “Keep your eyes up, if you want your brother in one piece. I’m sure as hell not saving his life.”

She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but the connection to his jaw was enough to know even in her sleep deprived state this was real. Just... one thing at a time. Get home to Sam. He needed her right now. She didn’t look at him, her eyes fixed back on the door just... waiting. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”

He had been the one to pick up the pieces last time. It was some kind of poetic irony he was going to get to see the creature she was so afraid of. And yet she also meant alive, or as alive as they could be. Maybe she’d be able to see his face one day without that long black coat whipping around his legs as he—

Too soon.

SHERLOCK

Sherlock didn't get up from the floor. Exhaustion was likely taking over. He had gone longer periods of time without sleep (once he conducted an experiment which included shots of adrenaline and energy drinks) but this was a different sort of tired. One knee bent, the other leg stretched out, he almost wished she would keep hitting her. Likelihood was, she had no idea what he had done, what he had agreed to before the fall, or she would have kept going.

She is mistaken into thinking he has fallen into the same trap with her. 

"I couldn't care any less about how many pieces my brother is in. I hope he tears him to shreds. Mycroft was never any good at field work; he likely won't even go in." Sherlock didn't care much for violence either way; no need for it but it never really scared him. He had also never understood Alex's fear of her brother, although he could never decide if thats because he was sure his siblings could and may kill him and had accepted it, or was sure they could not. 

They had both turned their back on him with relative ease this past month. He wondered if he had also been wrong about Alex. The punch meant so little, he hardly registered it as a mark against her. He deserved it of course, the man who would never lie to her, back from the dead. 

"Why are you? Surely Prescott will be anxious to be home with you; will seeing Sebastian help?"

ALEX

He didn’t move from his pathetic heap, and after a few silent breaths, Alex extended an arm. She wasn’t looking at him, but it was a truce. A middle ground. Because she didn’t want him dead, she just didn’t know what to feel. It was too much in the last 48 hours, the last two months. The place where her heart had been was filled with an empty numbness when she wasn’t in Sams arms. She had watched the world collapse around her too many times to have faith in anything or anyone else. Even Sherlock.

He spoke like he really meant it, like he wanted Mycroft dead. That could be arranged. No, no that was the point of all this. It was a real fresh start. Her eyes were still glued to the door as she waited for his hand. 

“Help? Nothing will help.” Why was she here? Sam did want her home, and there was no need for her to watch the consequences of her betrayal. There was never going to be a way to erase that look from her baron, knowing he would end her life given the chance. It was a totally different thing to accept it, actually seeing it meant sleepless nights and burying her heart behind a wall of steel and barbed wire. She didn’t know what the real answer was. “Why are you?”

She parroted it back at him, an old trick for deflecting he would read through in seconds.

SHERLOCK

For a moment he doesn't want to take her hand in fear that he will pass right through her. It was a fear he had since he was little, they he had died and no one, not even him had noticed. Since learning the truth from Cee, he thought he might know where this fear had come from. Still, it was silly to imagine he was a ghost. When he reached out, her hand was as solid as it ever was. 

"He ruined my life." 

It wasn't fair to give Seb all the credit on that one. Moriarty had a hand in it, his father, both his siblings. Alex to some degree but he would never think like that. He stands next to her, almost shoulder to shoulder. "I brought him in. I want to see the look on his face when he realises he has lost."

ALEX

She had pulled him to his feet before she could bite back her anger again. “Don’t. Don’t fucking talk about him like that.”

She still wouldn’t give him the benefit of her gaze. Especially not now. Sebastian had his fair share of the destruction but it wasn’t fair for him to take the blame when her hands were soaked in blood. Alex was far from innocent, and choice didn’t matter. At least she was aware of what was going on, Sebastian had all of that stripped from him. James Moriarty had found an addict and just changed the drugs for power and adoration. Same as Sherlock switched his high from heroin to danger.

She visibly flinched as Sherlock mentioned his role in all this. But she didn’t have the words to wound him, there was no victory here. No winners, only survival.

“I remember when you used to care about people. What is life without love? Where’s your fucking compassion now?” It was said in a quiet voice, hollow, empty. Exhausted and hoarse. She sounded like a shell of a person as well as looking like one. “At least he stayed sober.”

SHERLOCK

"You're a hypocrite, Moran. You can speak about my brother however you like, a man who does what he does for the good of the British public. Your brother is a murderer and a thief. Your whole family is. Do not pretend your causes were righteous; the Moran luck has run simply run out."

He had never spoken to her like this. He doubted he had spoken to anyone like this. But to hear his words, his preaching of love and forgiveness thrown back at him, the jab about his inability to stay sober, it was too much. Everything he had lost, everything he would continue to lose because of her and her family. She would gain, she couldn't see it now but she would gain as he fell further and further down a path he had been avoiding since he was seventeen. The one person, maybe the two if you counted Celia, who could save him would hate him and that was the end of it. 

"I have no compassion for men from good families and good homes who knowingly caused others pain for his own self-serving desires. The world is full of them, Sebastian is no different."

ALEX

She launched at him before she knew what she was doing, the one concession being that her forearm was pressed against his chest and not his throat. She slammed him against the glass, the flicker of pain showing in her face as her shoulder took the impact. But she glared at him, grey eyes boring into his soul now. If he still had one.

“Funny. I don’t remember you minding much when I was fucking you. Or was getting your dick wet worth putting that aside? Is that where your line is?”

She had never claimed to be anything other than a monster, he was the one looking for a chance to play saviour. He needed this as an ego boost. All that talk about caring clearly meant nothing.

“Men like you? Silver spoon up your arse and all. Where’s the good in getting high and playing dead?”

At least she was here. At least she was going to watch as her brother exploded. She slammed him again, bristling with hate now. He had no idea what it meant to lose everything, and there was a pain in her eyes he would never have seen there before. Living through hell justified anything in the name of getting out alive.

SHERLOCK

He hardly reacts. Pain shoots through his, his lower back makes contact with the border of the fake mirror but the pain feels distant from him. To die at her hand, is that the way he wanted to go?

"It was never about the sex, you know that." His fierce tone has softened; not kind, just tired. "I know what I am. I have never pretended to be a good person, I am an addict, a spoilt rich boy. I try everyday to make decisions that will benefit others. Most days I fail. But we continue on. You cannot say the same for your family. Defend them if you have to, it's your nature to do so, but do not expect me to pity your brother, or your cousins, when they are in the hell they themselves created." 

Even now, with her body weight pressed against him, he cannot lump her in with the rest of them. He knows he should. The logical side of brain says there is no difference. "I doubt Mycroft will let you kill me, he would be at risk of losing you to a prison cell if he did."

ALEX

“Neither did I.” She spat it back at him, wondering whether his cheek would come up in a nice bruise. This was so different from falling apart in his arms the last time they had been those close. It was funny to think that Alex really thought that night might be the closest she had come to death. Now she was a living breathing corpse. No passport, no records, no state and no identity. But she had a deal, a deal that could keep the few people she cared about from knowing the indefinite hell of being trapped in the same four walls with no escape. None of them knew the true extent of human cruelty. Now they might not have to.

Her hands moved from across him to his throat, but before she could apply any pressure, the door opened. The door she had been so laser focused on. In a split second she shoved him out the way, and watched as the hooded figure was bolted down to the table. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, her whole body wound so tight it was visibly stiff. Her jaw was clenched, her full attention on the person who could only be her brother. Sherlock was going to get what he wanted, he was going to see them both fall apart because he could. Because she had made every single bad choice in her life to protect the person she was loyal to above everyone, and yet he would cut her off as it was convenient.

Maybe she should have been relieved no one could find August or Bash. Maybe it was a mercy.

SHERLOCK

As she reached for his throat he thought both of how wonderful it might be to not have to live the life he had backed himself into and, with quite a different feeling, how she had once trusted him with the knowledge that she liked a hand around her throat. Nothing even close to worry occurred to him. He closed his eyes and hoped for it. 

Before she could finish him, or as was more likely, someone came in to stop her finishing him. The sound or the door opening and close came through a radio he couldn't see, although he assumed there must be a button somewhere so they could communicate. 

He stepped back from her, although instead of watching Seb, he watched her, the back of her head. Mycroft followed Seb in and Sherlock recognised the happiness in his brother's walk. Finally. The folder full of documents hit the metal table with a sharp slap and Sherlock attempted to melt into the shadows behind Alex.

SEBASTIAN

Sebastian was having a rough couple of weeks, to be honest. Alex had left - finally - having apparently decided he wasn't three steps away from an overdose at any given moment. It'd been nice. And maybe he'd started spiraling a little bit, but then Rich had found him and offered him a job. And that was nice - something to do. Except it'd been a week of that - weird as the situation was - and now he'd found himself grabbed, hooded, and transported somewhere. 

To be honest, he'd wondered when this might happen. He wondered on the ride over, after they got him more or less immobilized, whether this was the result of the information Moriarty had told him a little before he'd died. If so, he was going to get free and kill a few people. If they let him. Sebastian wondered if they'd be stupid enough to let him go after this. The proper response was death or wasting away in some hole somewhere, but guilty consciences might get in the way. 

He struggled as they unloaded him, figuring he might as well be the biggest annoyance possible before they killed him, stopped struggling when they finally put a pistol to his head to walk him down the hall. They should have done that from the start. And maybe the first few bruises should have gotten him to behave, but he didn't have anything to lose. 

They dragged him into a room, yanking his arms forward to cuff him to the table. He sat, sprawling as much as someone handcuffed to a bar on the table could. He couldn't see properly beyond the weave of the bag, but he could hear the slap of a folder on the table, feel the puff of air on his hands. "So who is it I'm speaking to? Don't want to run the risk of ruining a pretty face, is it?" They couldn't see the grin behind the hood, but it was there, despite the blood and bruises. "I'm handcuffed, how much do you think I could do? I appreciate the caution a little, obviously. Feeds the ego to think you're afraid."

SHERLOCK & MYCROFT

The victory was hollow but he would take it. After the years that he had put up with the whole Moran families antics, it had become personal and he would enjoy this. It wasn’t just the Moran’s either. It was Sherlock choosing Alex, it was Celia choosing Morland. The fragile ecosystem his mother had left with him had fallen apart. Only now he felt like he had it back again. Maybe not quote as complete as before, but he was back on top. 

He strolled into the integration room, closing the door firmly behind him, pulling at his tie. He glanced up, just for a moment into the mirror, imagining Alex standing behind it. That little bitch imagined she had called the shots on this one; he wondered is Sherlock had told her yet that they had been in control since the beginning. Mycroft moved past Seb, reaching up in the corner of the room to yank out the wires that lead to the security camera. What the British Government didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them. After all, he had done much worse than his in the name of national security and they had thanked him for it. 

His movements were slow, controlled and then, pausing for a moment in front of Seb, he slammed the other man’s head down hard against the table. It was a rush, he’ll admit that. He understood the pull of violence, he was just a better man than Sebastian Moran. He knew when to say no. He doesn’t hold his head down, instead moving away as quickly as before. 

Sherlock, despite himself, moved forward and, with more caution than Mycroft was showing, slowly reached out towards Alex. “Don’t… my brother is a bully who’s never got to act on it before, he wants you to react, he wants to know he’s getting to you both.”

ALEX

The voice on the speaker system, though tinny and filled with statics, cut to her core. It was the first time she had heard him on over a week, since she had left him to hopefully restart his life. There had been a small chance he would still relapse, but with a crushed phone and no friends it would be difficult. At least harder. Alex had put off leaving as long as physically possible. Even worse, she had excused the insults hurled at her in the name of grief and pain. She had sat outside the locked door that allowed him to cry, to feel something for the first time in years outside of pride. She was as loyal as a dog, and had been treated like one. Maybe that was why she was always so keen to jump to his defence. 

Her brother made jokes like he couldn’t be intimidated, rule 101 of getting under your interrogators skin. She didn’t really register she was holding her breath, but the audible smirk in his time had her on edge. She had been there once. Maybe she couldn’t watch this.  For a moment the nausea was too much, yet right as she was about to look away and focus on Mycroft, he seemed to move to the corner of the room. 

Alex moved closer to the glass to get a better look. “What the fuck is he-“ And there, right as he placed his hand on the bags she knew that look. She had seen it too many times in her nightmares. Right as they pressed the knife to her skin, right as the carved along her rib cage with the branding she would bare for life. The sign of someone enjoying pain in others. 

“NO.” It was guttural, almost like a scream but low and animalistic. But their booth was soundproofed. None of it would carry through to the interrogation room itself. She hovered, wondering how many bodies she would have to leave in the hall to get into that room. If Mycroft had turned the cameras off, he didn’t want to be disturbed. “He’s a person, not a fucking pressure point. If he kills him, I swear to god-“

SEBASTIAN

The door shut, trapping him and whoever this was in the room together. He had to imagine it was a Holmes. Wouldn't that make sense? In fact, he rather hoped it was - that'd make the experience better. A regular interrogator wouldn't have the same attachment to the situation and that'd just be tiring. Something was happening over further from the corner. He couldn't quite tell what, but footsteps approached once more and he decided to concentrate more on that. 

Which turned into concentrating on just how hard his face had hit the metal table - definitely metal, the way his nose ached and dripped blood onto the hood and down over his mouth. He grunted at the impact, unable to cushion himself in any way, given that his wrists were currently attached to the table. He sat back up slowly. Must have turned the cameras off, then. Oh well. Seb didn't want a rescue anyway. He felt a little bad about abandoning Rich, but he was resourceful enough to find someone else for protection. If Seb died here, that was better than a box of a cell deep underground. 

He hacked a little to clear his throat. "That wasn't much of a defense. Didn't your mother teach you violence wasn't the answer?" Sure, Sebastian's probably had, even if he'd clearly ended up ignoring such advice. "Very big of you to attack a man who's tied down. I can't even see your face. Makes me think you're too much of a coward to kill me. Not even interested in having the option on the table?"

SHERLOCK & MYCROFT

"He won't," Sherlock assured her, quite confident in that, "but he won't make this easy for either of you." His arm remained stretched out, only inches away from her arm, having there.

Mycroft continues his silent vigil around the table. Suit jacket off, neatly hung over the back of the other chair, he began to roll up his shirt sleeves. It wasn't just Seb he saw in that chair. It was all of them; every Moran, every criminal, every terrorist who cannot think further than their own bank account. At least the terrorists believed in something. His mind moved in a similar direction as her brothers; he had no time for men who made a sport of violence. They all had it within them; the spark that causes bar fights after too many beers. Intelligence sorted the men from the boys. Only he wasn't in the mood to be an Oxford man today. Moran would suffer and in that moment, he may have time to think about all the people that suffered because of him. 

"I imagine it's the same sort of feeling when you shoot a man from a hundred meters through a telescope," Mycroft said finally, his tone steady. "Skins not really in the game but it's still satisfying."

ALEX

“No.” It was quieter this time. Soft and barely audible. Spoken as you would a prayer. Maybe that was the true meaning, the true weight to her words. She wanted to take it back. They sounds suck like honey in her throat, on her tongue, knowing whatever was about to happen she had technically agreed to. On paper. None of this was supposed to be happening. She didn’t pull her eyes from the bag, now stained with what alex would assume was the blood of a gushing nose. She could hear all of it, crackling over the sound system and yet she was doomed to watch.

It was sitting in a cell listening to AJs screams all over again. It was beating her fists bloody against a door, handcuffs cutting away at her wrists in the struggle to make them stop...

This was all achingly familiar. Even the way he took his time to roll up his sleeves, the careful folds as to keep his image clean. It certainly wasn’t his shirt. “He’s enjoying it Sherlock. Look at him. Look at your brother and tell me that’s fair.”

She glared back to him for a second, trying not to let the desperation show. She still had her pride, but not for long.

SEBASTIAN

Not much in the way of conversation, then. Sebastian was patient, but he was patient mostly on rooftops or on hillsides. Times like these, a lack of engagement grated on him. Couldn't let it show, though. Maybe that was the one nice thing about having a bag on his head. Still, he'd rather have it off. For all that he was seemingly relaxed, the back of his mind was still very aware of the time he'd been here, the time he might have left, the fact he couldn't see the man's hands. 

"Satisfaction of a job well done, maybe." Was this the same? He didn't think so. "You are gloating. The job's not done yet, and that's still what you're doing. Sure," he gestured vaguely, the handcuffs clattering as he did, "you've got me here. Well done. You're not finished, though. I am still very much your problem for the foreseeable future. I've got all day - do you?" Sebastian might not talk much most of the time, but when he had a captive audience and time to kill, he could get going well enough. 

"Now if I wanted to gloat, I'd tell you that the satisfaction comes from the seconds before the bullet makes impact. You watch them through that scope and it's up to you to decide whether they live or die - or for me, at least. I'm good enough not to miss. And then once you've pulled the trigger you've got a few seconds where the bullet's flying through the air and you really are God. Only you know what's about to happen, and with complete inevitability, it does." He shook his head, wincing a little at the motion. "It's not comparable, this and that. The satisfaction isn't that they know who did it - I don't have to stand in front of my target and tell them it was me. If you don't gloat at me, I'll never know who was responsible - that's where your satisfaction comes from - the knowing. Your skin's more in the game than you want it to be, I think."

SHERLOCK & MYCROFT

Sherlock clears his throat, lowers his hand. "Mycroft... my brother believes that Moriarty was, likely indirectly, involved in the attack that cause Bridget... Mycroft's wife... she's not been the same since. Your brother is linked to... a part of the organisation that got our neice killed, that destroyed his wife, that had got some of Mycroft's best agents killed. This isn't just fair in his eyes, it's just." Never make decisions until you have all the facts. Even then, have an exit plan. Begrudgingly, Sherlock had always followed that advice, even though it came from his father. 

Mycroft, through the one-way-glass reached forward and pulled the bag from Seb's head, only holding the corners with finger and thumb, then folding it neatly in his hands. He was careful to stand away from the man. He might hate the hitman but he was more than a little aware of his abilities. "For you? I have all week. And you can take that as a compliment, Moran. I have been aching to have you in that chair. But not before I knew I had you. And I do have you."

He smiled, surely satisfied. "I have removed all walls between us. We can be open and honest now. Moriarty is dead. Your cousin August is protecting my little sister, your cousin Sebastian is serving time at her majesty's leisure and your sister-- well, she recognised a losing side what she saw one."

ALEX

“He’s not in his right mind. You know that. I fucking told you, the night he tried to...” This wasn’t right. Her brother was rattling on with some speech about playing god, when none of it mattered. “You put him in there. You found him, let him in the room with Mycroft, How could you?”

The deck was stacked against her from the start and she was only just starting to realise it. Her head snapped back to the scene in front of them at the mention of August- that was new information too. Mycroft had used the words untraceable less than 24 hours ago when she had asked where on earth her family was. And Bash? In prison? All those demands seemed futile now.

“This is a fucking game to him and- a-and...” and what? She moved to the door, grasping at the handle and forcing it down. And down again. Yet the door wouldn’t move.

This whole thing had been a set up from the start. And her body was full of panic as she scrambled to fill in the blanks.

SEBASTIAN

There went the bag. Finally. He blinked a little in the new light, gave Mycroft a charming smile that was perhaps made less charming by the amount of blood on his face. He'd have to worry about flashbacks later though - and anyway, it was his blood, which was better. He wasn't planning on biting Mycroft, though the temptation was certainly there. "Oh, I do, Mr. Holmes. A whole week just for little old me? You shouldn't have." That gave him something of a timeline, though he was doing his best not to construct one that could be taken away. 

A grin. "Have you? I'm very flattered, to be honest. It's very nice to meet you, I'll say. On this end of a scope, of course." Whether or not that was true didn't matter. "You do have me, Mr Holmes, very good observation." His tone as patronizing as could be, though it shifted for the next part. "All tied up, too. You can get closer - I won't bite. Unless you're into that." He looked around the room briefly. "Do you really have me, though? I'd have thought you'd look less tense if that was the case."

Smug bastard. Sebastian would very much like to throttle him, and would absolutely have tried if given the opportunity. "Honest? Don't lie so soon, it'll destroy the rapport you're building. I think we both know honesty only has a small foothold here." And openness? It depended on the information, which - interesting. A cold smile across the table at Mycroft. "She did leave suddenly - I had wondered a little. She did always hate the man. I suppose then it was only a matter of time before the rat jumped ship." August was safe, then. Bash might die. Alex would die if they ever crossed paths. "So did she give me up or did she cling to the notion that I might care about her survival enough to thank her for holding out? I'd love to know just how much to thank her when I see her next."

SHERLOCK & MYCROFT

Sherlock took a step back from Alex again, his back against the wall, his face full of something like grief, or regret but he didn't excuse Seb. He couldn't. They had gone too far, done too much. "I hunted him down because you asked for his pardon. It's the only reason he is in here." That was cruel, but he wasn't going to take the blame fully for this. 

Mycroft considered that, if he wasn't holding all the cards, that Seb's calm would frustrate him. If he really needed something from the hitman, if he was desperate.... but it wasn't like that anymore. Sure, Seb likely had enough information about Jim's web to fill a library but would good was it now? The whole thing was being picked apart, mostly by other criminals looking for their slice of the pie before the party was over. The job wasn't over, he wasn't about to retire anytime soon but this would at least mark the end of the Moran's being a thorn in his side. 

"Not something I could say for sure, Moran. Why don't you ask her yourself?" With obvious glee, Myc moves across to the mirror and presses on the button by the side. The room behind the screen lights up. Sherlock, seeing where his brother was heading had backed away into the shadows but he would not be hidden. Mycroft smiled between Alex and Seb. "A nice family reunion, I'm so glad I could witness this. Why don't you tell him what you've done for him Alex? I'm sure he will be ever so grateful."

QUARANZINE #78 QUARANZINE #78: Alexander Richard Wilson. I spend a lot of words explaining how these collaborations happen because I hope it helps people see the value of trusting the potential of working together with people you barely know. Alexander sent me a friend request only about a week ago and since we have a lot of good friends in common and he seems to be doing cool work, I accepted it. I'm not sure we've ever met. When I put a call out for new collaborators a couple days ago he posted some great portraits of Angela Davis and Assatta, but they were older and I'm looking for what people are doing that is responsive to our current situation. I encouraged him to think about it some more and told him there was still time. Then last night happened in Chicago and Alexander posted this. I reached out and said that this text could be our collaboration if he was up for it. He was, I copy edited, got his ink/paper color preferences, and we made a publication. I stand in admiration of Alexander's courage last night, as well as his rage. Since it's a long text and will be hard to read as a scan, I've posted it below as well:

I write you tonight from our home in Chicago on Bridgeport’s South Side after what we’ve seen and participated in at today’s protest. Everything is based on my first hand account and I was of sound mind and body as I participated in this event.

We left our home at 5 pm for Chicago's Orange line station at Ashland. We walked from our home to Mariano's prior, to purchase gauze, bandage tape, and hydrogen peroxide. We decided our participation, if needed beyond our occupation of space, would be in the interest of helping those injured by the events of the evening.

We made it to Ashland at about 5:16 and, by 5:30 we were on the train. The Orange line was running for one stop. All trains were being stopped into the loop before Roosevelt (an important circulation point). We walked the distance from the Halsted Orange line station up through the West Loop. The disconnection of the Loop from the North, and West Sides of the city with the raising of the drawbridges was futile, in that it created obvious choke points that were navigable from the South and South West sides. It was clear to me that attention was being paid to the North Loop, and the Riverwalk area, as demonstrators had moved to the State and Wabash bridges. We made it to this point after walking the distance from Halsted Orange at 6:30. Walking across the bridge at Congress, state police were on the bridge adjacent to the Willis tower and the Wacker end of the financial district. LaSalle was deserted and unprotected. There was no damage to LaSalle Street Corridor buildings or facades. Upon hitting Dearborn there was evidence of the protest and we followed that with a population of over 200 up State. The State street bridge was under a seeming attempt at raising. We initially couldn't tell if we could pass it but we crossed the bridge to the north side of the river where we and other demonstrators were met by a line of officers in riot gear, with batons. The point of protection here, was to block protesters from reaching the base of Trump Tower. I think a lot of damage to the rest of the Loop that was done tonight could have been partially mitigated if the police had given up the position of defending Trump Tower. At around 7:15 we were moved back by an explosion or launching of a device. The bank at the corner of the Kemper building was heavily damaged and officers were pressed against the wall in this position. There were more explosions and we ran back to position at State and Lake.

At this point, I was becoming concerned for my and Grace's safety. The increasing number of explosions and obvious trap definitely meant we could have been pinned against State Street and I didn't want that. We could see officers moving in a line State Street, attempting to reclaim it, and as they attempted to reclaim State, a contingent of protesters pressed against Macy's launched an object at the facade of the building creating an entry point. The officers advanced further down State. This happened in 18 seconds. Maybe 20. We moved from State to Dearborn. The damage to facades of buildings and soft infrastructure was widespread and at Dearborn and Washington we watched what we believed to be a building's lobby exploding. We later found out it was the explosion of a cop car at the hands of demonstrators. At this point, we were at Daley Plaza, and a white man without a mask on jogged past us. And I mean in a way that chilled me. We were advancing southward, on foot down Dearborn and then we circled back up the eastern end of the Loop under Wabash. While crossing State Street officers were on horseback. Incredible damage had at this point been done. We collected a bike with a friend, and then continued south to home. In this walk, I saw, maybe six white biker gangs entering the Loop, white men in very large trucks, and more mysterious white men running without masks, toward a war zone. And I became more afraid. We made it home with two other friends who we had met while there then escorted them to their transportation points.

The magnitude of the events of today will be with me for the rest of my life. I believed that in any sense of direction, present in the world of law enforcement. the concept of managed retreat would have been something discussed and commonsensical. But tonight, officers of the law, these proud boys, were overwhelmed so completely with the presentation of this generational rage, apexing now in the midst of this global health crisis. They never intended to do this correctly in the first place or even manage it well enough at all. Lori Lightfoot is a failure of a mayor and a caricature of a Black woman in every sense of those words. The actions of the police force tonight speak to the failure of the institution. Chief after chief, mayor after mayor. It’s disgusting and deplorable that this is happening. I burn with rage over the destruction of these cities as a lover of beauty, but there is no equity in beauty, no corrective place while these institutions occupy these spaces. The beauty is void and for so many of these people of color, unattainable and filled with riches that class warfare has made inaccessible. Grace and I tried to make points and support the crowd action the best we could. The explosions and destruction and oppression could have been mitigated if officers had deployed a different tactic. Ultimately the disparities in American culture, and the deaths of African Americans the nation over at the hands of officers of the law, white nationalists, and Nazis has brought us to our most boiled point. I love you very much. I cry as I type this; I truly had hoped we wouldn't have to go through this but the occupation of the White House by a dummy President and white supremacist figurehead has brought this nation to its knees. We are in shambles and we demand change. Acknowledgments. And progress. There is no fairness here and there has been no fairness in a very long time.

I am of great privilege. I have influence and a voice that speaks loudly and I will continue to do what I can, when I can to help express the voice of the African American people. My people. I am fortunate to be loved by an incredible person and have incredible friends in all of you. In this city. A city that has run on the backs of Black people for two centuries. This was due to come to pass.

America we are again for the second time in our history, truly at war with ourselves. There is now an obvious expression of white supremacy walking among us in our cities. God fucking speed.

— Alexander Richard Wilson (written on May 30, 2020) 

Scarlet Contract: Part 2

The Screaming Predator sailed through out the sea for a over a month now. Captain Kerrigan, Pirate Cheiftan of the Gerudo, whistled for her first mate to get to the poop deck. Before they left for the sea, she and her crew took a job in transporting a crate of 'unidentified goods'. Easy good money. They were just instructed to not look inside the box. Or touch the damn thing apparently. Every since they picked up the cargo, a contagion was being spread among the crew, leaving girls incredibly sick. The symptoms were pale skin, rashes, and vomiting blood near the end. It seemed physical contact spread it around, and when the first bodies started to stink up the place, Kerrigan became paranoid that the sickness might spread other ways. Best she deal with that effectively.

"Coco."

"Yes Captain?"

"Give me a list of the sick."

"Yes Captain." The Gerudo pulled out a chart, straining her eyes to read. It would take at least an hour for the sun to come out. "Dorethea. Padme. Rav. Anura. Evelyn."

"Alright. Bring them to the deck." The second mate did so, carefully ushering them to the deck.

Sleeping in the crows’ nest, Scarlet, 15 years of age, yawned loudly. She hated waking up before the sun was up. Peering down, she saw some of the girls being lined up next to the edge of the ship. What was going on? Weren't they put into quarantine? The more experienced crew mates lined up with the captain. "I'm sorry. There are no signs of you getting well, and treatment is unavailable. For the sake of the crew, I have to take actions to ensure the rest of our health."

Scarlet was awakened quickly as the flash and bang of gunfire went off. There were four thick splashes of water, and down below, she heard Coco swear. "Great. Now we have to throw Rav overboard ourselves. Some one pass me a pair of gauntlets and help me throw her overboard." Scarlet stayed in the crow's nest, stunned by the event that unfolded. Her own sisters executed to preserve the rest.

With another splash, Scarlet waited a full ten minutes before crawling down the crow's nest and heading into the cabins. Word was already being spread around by the officers on the fates of the sick. That it was a brutal, heartbreaking, but necessary evil. Crawling over to her best friend, Scarlet scared the crap of her at a touch.

"Fucking hell Redd! Don't sneak up on me."

"Sorry Adda."

Adda shook her head, quikly tying the back of her hair into a ponytail. "You hear what happened?"

"Worse. I saw what happened."

"Oh god. I'm... fuck Scarlet." Adda threw her smaller frame around Scarlet, hugging her close. "This whole situation is messed up. The Captain should have never taken the job. Box smelled like crap from the get go."

Scarlet knew Adda as of late loved to challenge Captain Kerrigan's role as leader. It was close to treason, but she let her vent. "I know."

"Making a quick buck instead of making smart choices. And killing our sisters? This is all so, so fucked."

"I know Adda."

"We have to-" Adda interrupted herself with a cough. Grabbing a handkerchief, she cleaned herself off by dabbing her gums. Blood was staining the blue cloth. "We have to get the piece of junk off the ship. Get the younger girls somewhere safe from Captain Kerrigan."

Scarlet winced at Adda. Dear god. She was sick. Must have been early, but the bleeding was there. Did Adda even notice? "Yeah. You're right when you're right." Scarlet watched Adda smile brightly. Although she was only ten months younger than her, she loved to take charge.

"Hell yeah I am. I'm a little tired, so I'm going to sleep until the sun is nice and out. I hate rude awakenings."

Walking away from her best friend, Scarlet rubbed the back of her neck. How many other girls were sick? When their symptoms worsened, the Captain would have them join Davy Jones locker as well. That thought terrified Scarlet. They deserved better. She would help give them better, like Adda wanted for her them. Running to the cargo hold of the ship were no one was, Scarlet grabbed a stick of dynamite. Cargo hold was reinforced with steel walls. Should contain one little explosion. She hoped.

As Captain Kerrigan was ready to steer the ship further into sea, a massive explosion sore into her ship. The back side of her boat was blown wide open. Spectacularly, no one was killed in the blast. "Everyone man your stations!!! Coco! Report to me the damage!"

Five minutes later everyone was scrambling on the ship. She could float, but if any other pirates saw them, all they'd have to do is give them a mean look and the Screaming Predator could sink. "Captain! The cargo bay was completely annihilated. A freak accident with a single stick of dynamite. We need to head into land and start repairs immediately!"

"Ey!" Captain Kerrigan took out her compass and map, looking for a chatter that'd get them off the sea as fast as a possible. Soon enough, she had her heading. "There's a land known as Omisha not too far away. We'll head there and make repairs immediately. Drop the forward sails and make ourways east!"

~

The Gerudo crew made it to the mainland in about fourteen hours of intense labor on the ship. When it hit the shore line, the Screaming Predator practically came apart. Would take at least a week of everyone working together to fix the damage. For Scarlet, she was relieved. Least this way the sick could live the rest of there lives on land, perhaps even run off further inland. And for final sights, this Omisha wasn't a bad sight. For the next three days, the Gerudo didn't stray far from the boat. They cut down trees and set to work, but everyday, from 1pm-2pm, the Captain was kind enough to give them time off to relax. Most of the women loved to patrol the beachside and swim.

Adda was taking a walk with Scarlet during such a break. Stripped down to light pants and a bra, Adda was just glad to have the sun on her face. "You been feeling alright these past few days?"

"Yeah? Why? You not?"

"The physical labour around the ship is abit straining, but other than that, I'm all good."

Scarlet laughed when Adda laughed, but she knew her sister in arms was growing unwell.

"Adda. You know, we could just leave right? If you aren't feeling good..."

Her eyes glistened with surprise, and she waved her hand off at Scarlet. "I told you. I'm good. Besides Redd, it's not my place to run. If I'm not feeling too good, I'll just chat it over with Captain Kerrigan. We can get real antiquated with each other over my problems."

Running up the beach, a pair of older Gerudo women caught up with Scarlet and Adda. "Adda. You get back to the ship. Scarlet. You're going to join us on a recon mission to search deeper inland."

"But it's not the end of our break."

One of the women immediately slapped Adda across the face. "Captain's orders. Now get back to the ship runt."

Scarlet patted Adda's back as she lowered her head and did as she was told. The reason Scarlet was asked to go into unknown territory was simple. She was one of the few Gerudo on board with magical capabilities, as well as trained in the arts of the Iron Knuckle. Scarlet wasn't skilled enough to summon armour onto her, but she was capable enough to transport her battle axe to her. "Should we go back to the ship to suit up?"

"No time. Captain wants us to go search now. Food or treasure is the objective. Need to make up for the lost cargo." Nodding, Scarlet took off over the hillside and into the jungle with the older Gerudo.

The shaman was certainly enjoying the view of the beautiful ladies naked in the ocean. From his spying, he was able to come to a few conclusions. The ship ran aground due to structural problems, the women were trying to fix it, and a handful were very sick. Some were only little girls, it seemed. He pitied them, having to play adult at such a young age. Yet, there was still the present problem of the women actually being here. Mother did not allow humans in her land, at least, not anymore. Usually, humans were devoured on sight. Though, these women did not seem to be causing any trouble, other than trying to chop down part of their forest. He decided to leave them be unless curiosity got the best of them.

And unfortunately, it did.

As the women progressed further into the jungle, Bonegrinder knew he had to act. Too many Echidnans had lost their lives to humans. If this beach became known as a popular spot to store treasure or take a pit stop, the risk would increase. Humans were naturally curious creatures, and that would result in their demise in this land. Mother said that he could either scare them away or kill them. Two choices, and he decided to try the less messy alternative first. In a rather dramatic way.

The first woman he slipped his tail around her ankle and pulled her into the bushes, earning a terrified scream. She tried firing at him, but he snapped the gun in half and threw her into a muddy pit. Now, she'd be focused on getting away with no weapon in hand. The second lady, he pulled her up from a tree branch with his long body, hanging upside down. Yelling, she thrashed wildly to get free, trying to take a shot. He dropped her, swatting her with his tail into a tree, just enough to hurt. Hissing, he was successful in scaring the two women away... but now, there was the issue of the kid. To her, he was horrifying.

"Child..." Bonegrinder growled as she held up the axe, shaking a finger at her. "Don't play into the hands of stupidity. Leave."

It happened so fast for Scarlet. Out of the cover of the jungle, it came alive and threw them about. Felicia was the first to get thrown about, falling into the mud. Grekal was injured in the attack, scampering away to leave the others to themselves. Scarlet snapped her fingers and a giant battle axe appeared in her hands, ready to chop down on this jungle predator. The appearance of this monster was chilling to bone, and Scarlet was shaking in her boots, yet she stood tall. Her eyes were careful to watch the monster's tail, as well as his face. "Back off you scaly abomination!"

"He really doesn't want to eat you, but Kasdeya, Mother of the Monsters, the Many, she wants you gone from her lands." Bonegrinder slithered closer, not bothered by her trembling threat. "He can't really blame her either. Humans are pests. Now, are you going to run back to your shipmates and inform them to leave?"

Scarlet wasn't expecting it to speak. Taking a stance, when Bonegrinder drew too close, she swung her axe. "Back. Off. We'll take what we need to repair. And I'm not letting a monster hurt anyone else."

This was annoying. Was he really going to have to dispose of a tiny, weakling child? She acted fierce but her heart rate begged to differ. When the girl tried to strike him with her axe, Bonegrinder moved swiftly, wrapping his tail around the handle and yanking the weapon away from the young one.

"He told you to leave. Mother does not want you here, humans are a plague upon this land." The shaman snarled, exposing his fangs and unlocking his jaw. "We will not let them kill anymore of our brethren. He will not repeat himself again. This snake is giving you a chance to escape with your life like the other two."

Scarlet screamed and closed, scrambling about. Instead of running towards the beach, she ran deeper into the jungle as a way to get away from Bonegrinder.

"Ah! Idiot girl, that is the wrong way!" Bonegrinder exclaimed, running a hand down his face. "He swears Mother gives him these tasks just to get a rise out of him. Why can't more children be like that Mortuus child in his catacombs?" He stopped for a moment, realizing how foolish that made him sound. "On second thought, she is considered odd compared to other children." Grumbling, the shaman muttered, "Now, he has to play babysitter before she gets swallowed by a Jawstalk Mantrap. Mother doesn't want any skeletons lying around. No evidence."

Scarlet was falling down hillside, getting branches smacked in her face, and tumbling through bushes. Finally, she thought she made enough distance between herself and the monster and hid underneath a fallen log.

This was akin to children hiding under their beds in Hyrule. Bonegrinder sighed, exasperated. This was going to take some drastic measures. Finally, he yanked her out from underneath the log, his coils wrapped around her so she could not escape, arms and legs pinned. "You are very annoying."

Scarlet screamed so loud it rang Bonegrinder's ear drums and rattled his skull. "Dear god no! Please, no, no, no, no, no!"

Slapping a hand over her mouth, the shaman held the side of his head.

"Good Mother Goddess, girl! Shut up!" Bonegrinder snapped. "Why are children so damn loud? Either that, or have a pair of lungs that could pierce eardrums, by Kaksa." The shaman started slithering back in the direction of the beach. "You are idiotic, girl. He told you to go back to the beach, but no, you run into the jungle. There are some other kin of his who might not be so kind to a human child." He took another sniff of her trapped form. "Hrm. You've got the scent of womanhood, but still not mated. Thus, still a child, like he deuced." Once he was finally at the line of the jungle, he uncoiled his body from around the young girl. Giving her a shove with his tail, Bonegrinder told her, "Stay out of the jungle. Mother does not care for humans, and this snake is not fond of them, but he doesn't like to hurt children." Then, he tossed the axe at her feet. "And quit playing with dangerous weapons unless you really know how to swing that thing. Magic or not, it won't do you any good unless you stop doubting yourself." Muttering to himself, the snake started to slither back into the jungle. If the women trespassed again, then he would have to cause actual harm. Or eat them.

Scarlet whimpered as she sauntered back to the boat. "Captain needs to bomb this place. Need to get Adda on the ship..."

Bonegrinder watched as the three women swore up and down of the existence of the devil, firstly, then shadow creature, secondly, and last but not least, a mutated snake creature. He thought it was amusing, the young kid begging the captain to believe her. Humans had long forgotten the residents of Omisha, yet there were plenty of tales to keep them from entering the vast jungle. Hopefully, this would keep them at bay.

"Captain, please! There be monsters in the jungle!"

"Fine. We can repair the ship, then dump the last of the sick here."

Scarlet's eyes widened. "No captain! No one else is sick!"

"Unlikely. Everyone knows the risk. I won't infect the healthy members Scarlet. Now, you've had a long afternoon. Get your ass back to work on the ship."

Scarlet did so, trying to think of a way to save Adda and the others.

~

It was getting dark with the sun setting. Maybe a night or two left until the crew was finished. When they were alone on the ship, Adda hugged her from behind, careful to only have clothing on clothing contact. "Scarlet. I appreciate all you've done for me. Really. But I'm not gonna risk the rest of the crew. When the time comes, I'll lead the sick into an island expedition. It should be fun."

"But Adda..." Scarlet turned to her, feeling like a failure of a protective sister. They weren't bound by blood, but they were sisters in arms, bound by sea, sweat, and tears. "I can't stand the thought of you out there in that jungle alone."

"Hey. We could always take over the ship the-" Her smile shattered as she suddenly coughed.

As Scarlet stepped away, Adda finished her fit. Turning her head back up, she smiled with blood in her teeth. "You should probably go get some fresh air away from me Scarlet. I'll be fine on my own for a bit."

Crying, Scarlet ran off. She wanted to be anywhere but the one place she felt helpless. Getting off the ship she ran to a tree on the beach where she could cry her thoughts away.

The women were still here. Bonegrinder considered just storming the camp to scare the daylights out of them. Perhaps that would prove a point. Was his warning not enough? Then, he saw the girl from before. Now, she was crying for the sake of her sister. Bored, this caught the shaman's attention. She was too preoccupied to notice him, already up in the palm tree. "Girl." Bonegrinder spoke, flicking the tip of his tail back and forth. "Is he really going to have to eat someone to prove a point? He told you and your like to leave."

"Majora on high!" Scarlet backed away on her hands and legs. "Please don’t hurt us! We need to make repairs to our ship!"

"That he has observed by you taking trees from our jungle." Bonegrinder picked at his teeth with a claw. Dinner was rather chewy. Wild deer was not his favorite, but it would do for now. "Though this captain bitch of yours has talked of leaving some humans here and this is not acceptable. Omisha is a land for monsters, and only monsters. Humans have wrought enough here." The Anagari's redd eyes were glowing in the dark. "Why haven't you used your magic to speed along the process? You have it. He can sense it."

“We don’t have that kind of magic. And speed along what? The construction of the ship, or the deaths of the sick?”

"The construction of the ship," Bonegrinder was definitely explaining things to a child. "By healing the sick."

“We can’t! We don’t have that kind of magic! Why do you even care?” Scarlet didn’t even realize she was yelling.

"Are humans really so fragile?" Bonegrinder mused as he slithered down the tree. "He cares for the safety of his kin. Yet, he supposes that children are innocents." He glanced at the young ones separated from the group because of the coughing. "Little ones who have yet to see the horrors this world offers."

“You care? What can you do that we can’t?”

"For one, he can fight." Bonegrinder chuckled. "And for two, he can use magic."

"I can do both of those things." Scarlet stood up, adrenaline cutting through her fear. "How can that help us?"

"Child, you've yet to learn of what you need to survive, much less ways to help others." Bonegrinder was crass, but truthful. "You are naught but a little girl." He then stated less harshly, "This snake needs you all to go, yet, he does not wish to harm anyone if he can help it. Most of you are children. Merely, scare you away from these sacred lands." He then asked, "If you wish to learn to fight, then you have to be brutal and be willing to take down one before a strike is allowed at those you care for." The snake eyed the heartless captain. "If you wish to learn how to control your magic, you must let go of your doubt. Magic is tied to the soul. You do not have confidence in yourself and must overcome the fear of failure." He extended his tail to Scarlet. "If he aids you, you must leave and tell no one of this place."

"I'm not going anywhere with you. If you think you're so great, then tell me. Can you heal my sisters? I don't have that kind of magic in me. No Gerudo has the magic to heal."

Bonegrinder actually laughed at the girl's statement. This was certainly more fun than having to swallow a human whole. Perhaps there was a deal here he could take advantage of for the future. Ah, yes, he could see it... "Oh, little child, you are quite bold to insult this snake." The shaman then twirled a single finger in the air, allowing a line of magic to flow. "You wish for him to heal your sisters? Then you must know his magic will come with a price."

Scarlet thought to Adda. Thought about how she never had family she could love until she met her. She was the face that she wanted to see smile properly for years to come. As much as this monster terrified her, perhaps he could be a source of salvation. "Anything."

"Anything could lead you to ruin, little one. Yet, Bonegrinder will venture to be merciful." The shaman held up his massive clawed hand, magic shimmering around it. "Years from now, you will be loved. You will have a family. You will not wish to leave them for an upcoming battle against discord." He knew she would not understand the implications until later on in her life. "You will pledge yourself to the queen of dragons and fire, host of the one who will bring back Balance. You will fight for her and become a queen in your own right." The snake's tail flicked in anticipation. "In return, this snake will heal your sisters and... dispose of the captain. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal! We have a deal!" Scarlet was clamoring to shake his hand.

"Then the deal is struck." Bonegrinder took the young girl's hand and a line of text traveled down Scarlet's arm. It wrapped around her upper arm, tattooing itself into her skin, in the shape of a snake. Once again, he had the opportunity to add to the advantage of his side for the future battle. "Now... drug your ill sisters with these after you lure them over here." He held up a bottle of sweet tasting coconut juice laced with poppies. "It will lull them to sleep and he will heal them."

Scarlet frowned, looking at the tattoo. "I'm not into ink."

"Don't worry, they won't see it." Bonegrinder then instructed Scarlet. "You better hurry. With that sickness, there will be permanent damage if you don't act fast."

Scarlet ran back down to the ship. Supper was being prepared for the whole crew. Clam soup. Realizing what Bonegrinder wished for would be impossible, she didn't know what to do. Adda saw Scarlet with the bottle and pulled her to the side. "What do you have there?"

"Huh?!" Scarlet hid it behind her back in a flash. "Nothing."

"That's a crock of shit and you know it."

"Fine. It's to help the crew relax."

Adda raised a brow, and a cheeky smile filled her face. "Scarlet, you minx~ Why didn't you tell me you wanted to have some fun." Grabbing the bottle from her, Adda carefully danced around the crew and poured the contents of the bottle into the soup. "This is going to be fantastic. You steal these drugs from the Captain?"

"Something like that." Scarlet patiently waited for everyone to have supper and go on there way. Within the hour, everyone who had eaten, except her, well deep asleep. The teenage pirate made her way to the deck of the ship and waved Bonegrinder to come over. As she waited, she cradled Adda next to her.

"You, little child, are quite devious." Bonegrinder climbed over the side of the ship, his weight causing the wood to creak loudly. "Goodness, and he thought he snored loudly." He noted a few females with mouths open, louder than hogs. "Lay the sick flat for him on their backs. It's easier to access the lungs that way."

"I didn't know what to do to get them away from the ship. Adda here actually thought of spiking the soup." Scarlet lugged all the crew members who were sick and did as she was asked. Finally, she prepared to lie down herself. Didn’t know if she was sick too.

"This one..." Bonegrinder looked at Adda, and frowned. "Is trouble." He told Scarlet as he started on the first ill lady, his hands pulsing with a white glow. "You should stay away from her."

"She's my best friend." Scarlet frowned back.

"She will cause you nothing but trouble and pain." Bonegrinder would not reveal too much, and halted when he arrived to Adda. He tapped her forehead with his tail. "Something tells me this one is half conscious." He stated dryly. "Loopy. She might mention something along the lines of a demon or a snake when she wakes."

"Whooooos that?"

"A doctor Adda."

"Yeah? Helloooooo nurse~"

Scarlet wasn't surprised. Adda was able to handle her substance abuse.

"Shaman, not doctor." Bonegrinder arched an eyebrow. "You need to quit squirming so he can help you clear your lungs."

"Noooo that tickles. He's going to hurt me."

Scarlet held Adda down, rubbing her back gently. "It's ok Adda."

"I don't want him to hurt me."

"I won't let him. I won't let anyone hurt you."

"Stop being such a crybaby, you'll be fine." Bonegrinder snapped at Adda. "He told you to hold still." As Scarlet made sure to hold her friend steady, the shaman worked his healing technique. It was not long before the disease was out of Adda's lungs. "She should be fine, but he will warn you, this one will only cause you trouble."

"And I'm not listening. Thank you. You should go now."

Scarlet carefully set the crew back into non-suspicious positions. It took any hour of heaving people back and forth. Finally, she crawled into bed, exhausted from the haul. The very next morning, Captain Kerrigan called the crew to a meeting. It was a miracle among the heavens as she called it. Every girl reported clean and healthy across the board. Captain Kerrigan didn't pry too much into it. Meant less people needed to be killed. Once the ship was fixed, she stabbed a flag into the beach, a symbol for danger at your own risk.

Sailing out, Adda poured Scarlet a drink of cheap rum. "Too health and getting off monster island."

"Adda, it's a continent."

"And all land is surrounded by water. Hence an island."

Scarlet's face turned into puzzlement at that. "Hmm, I never thought of it. I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right. Now, lets drink."

~

"And so, that was the closest Adda came to death at the time. It was only a year later that I helped her in a mutiny against Captain Kerrigan. The crew loved Adda, so we were more than happy to appoint her Captain."

Greta pulled on Volcania's shirt to pay more attention. "That's cool momma."

"... a giant snake monster, Momma?" Lovisa looked puzzled. "We don't have any snake men here, do we, Mama?"

"Not unless one has been hibernating for a very long time." Borghild shook her head. "The closest thing to a snake here is probably an ice salamander. They freeze during the winter and thaw in the spring."

"Why did they pick Adda and not you? You saved them." Greta asked.

"Because I didn't tell anyone I saved them. And because I'm not a leader Greta." Scarlet rubbed her hands together. "Adda was the one with the charisma, drive, and brains to lead. As for the snake monster, it lives only in Omisha."

Rat, however, was beginning to sweat buckets. Corsaire worked with Orana's brother, the nefarious Ralnor. The blonde prince gave the ex-gladiator the creeps and more than once, Corsaire had mentioned something in passing about Ralnor working with... monsters. At the time, Rat thought Corsaire meant the scum of the earth, mercenaries, or humans with cruel tendencies. Now, he was beginning to think Corsaire meant in a literal sense. Many times, his captain had mentioned meeting a giant... he gulped. A giant snake.

"Did you ever meet this giant snake again?" Scarlet looked at Lovisa and glanced at Rat with a tell she was about to lie. "No sweety. I didn't need to meet that terrifying monster ever again. Any other questions girls?"

"What was the deal about? It sounded like he was talking in riddles." Lovisa questioned her stepmother. "Do all monsters really talk like that? Or was he just like... tricking you?"

"Probably just needed some money from me in the future. Or good food. Monsters are fickle things."

"Did Adda ever meet him? Or remember him?" Lovisa was still full of questions.

"Yeah, after all, she was a little loopy, but could still recall bits and pieces." Greta remarked.

Scarlet shrugged. She knew it would endanger her family to mention the Hive. Rumours still flew around that made her skin crawl. "Not that I know sweety."

"How big was he? Did he have fangs bigger than Mama?" Lovisa pointed to her mother.

"What color were his scales? Why did he talk so funny? Did you see any other mons-"

"Lovisa, me darling, stop asking your Momma so many questions." Rat picked up his daughter and gently sat her on his knee. "Me knows you're curious, love, but not all these questions have answers."

"Sorry." Lovisa seemed a little bashful after that. She loved a good story.

"Momma?" Greta looked at Scarlet. "... if he knew Adda was going to be trouble, why did he save her?"

"Because I asked him to."

"But he didn't have to."

"Greta, lassie, please, don't pester your mother."

"Well, I gave him a mean, stern look that shook him to his bones to do so. Kind of like this." Scarlet gave a mean, silly scowl to Greta to show off.

"... Momma, that won't work on me, I'm your kid." At that statement, Rat and Borghild had to hold back a stifled laugh.

"Well. Fine then. He had to keep his word or our deal would be void. I wanted Adda healed and that was that."

"Magic seems complicated." Lovisa remarked with a yawn. She was definitely a grizzly bear like her mother, cuddling into her father. It was time for a nap after riding around on the ship.

"Well, do you regret saving Adda?" Volcania asked.

Fuck. Scarlet rubbed her hands again, anxiety filling her. "Should anyone regret sparing a life?"

"That's not what I asked. I asked if you regret saving Adda."

Lovisa and Greta were quiet when Volcania asked her mother this question. It seemed... pretty harsh.

"You've been talking with Revy and Liz again haven't you." As Volcania opened her mouth, Scarlet spoke first. "No. I don't. If I didn't save Adda, none of you would have been born."

Lovisa and Greta exchanged glances, the girls knowing that Adda was generally a taboo to speak about in the family. Yet, they also understood some of Volcania's curiosity. After all, her father was Bomba, Captain Corsaire's first mate and demolitions expert. He could make some of the finest gunpowder in the world from what the younger girls were told. But, thanks to Adda and that evil dragon, she never got to meet him.

"Adda was my best friend....” Closing her eyes, she decided to end this conversation. “Rat. Raise the anchor. I want to see you girls put the boat parked back into the harbour."

It took a little longer than expected, but the girls managed to get the ship back into the port. It was quiet on the way back. Borghild kept the girls occupied so Rat could talk to Scarlet. Bomba was always a touchy subject. "Me lovey..." Rat approached Scarlet once the girls and Borghild disembarked the ship. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. Do you think I'm a bad seed or stupid in the head because I still care for Adda?"

"No. It's hard to a-forget the good memories even with bad ones still present, lassie." Rat told Scarlet with a sigh. "Me still loves me brother Renegade... well, tis Faris now. We were separated long ago, but reunited. Dere's nothing I would a-do for him. He's got a good life now with Teb and his little wee one, Skyla."

"But Faris doesn't have people calling him a bastard, a bitch, a monster. Or anyone that worked for him a cu-" Scarlet paused, stopping herself. She needed to breathe and calm herself down. "It's not the same."

"Aye, you's right, lassie, tis not the same." Rat put an arm around Scarlet and pulled her in for a close hug. "You's done stuff you's regretted, so has I. You's doing good now with the girls, me, Borgie, we all love you. If you hadn't of done what you did... me doubts you'd be here with us."

"I know. I know." Scarlet sighed, as she hugged him close. Suddenly, a stone in her pocket was shaking. Pulling it out, a voice echoed out to her.

"Hey ma. We still having dinner together?"

That was today? Scarlet spoke back into the whispering stone. "Yes Revy. We'll be over in an hour. You and your bird won't have to wait for long."

"Maybe tis do you good to go see Revy and Seija." Rat kissed Scarlet's forehead. "Go see her. Don't worry, we'll care for the girls."

"What? You don't want to join us?"

Rat did not have the heart to tell Scarlet that his back was hurting. Getting old really sucked. "Borghild was going to go hunting and someone needs to watch Lovisa and Greta." He gave her a smile. "Go on. I don't want you to a-miss the fun."

"And Volcania? Growing worried. She's old enough to be approached by men now. And you know how Direnor heat can be. Maybe she should come with me."

"You think her father didn't teach her how to swing a mace?" Rat chuckled. "She a good fighter like her old man and her mother. But if you want her to go with you, then take her. I'm sure she'd love to see her big sis for a while too."

"Volcania!"

"Yeah?!" She shouted back. "We're visiting your big sister!"

Volcania sparked up. "Awesome!"

Scarlet sighed, glad that was dealt with and started brushing her hair back. She stopped cutting it a long time ago, gone the days of shaved down sides. It felt good to just get her hands in there at times. "Anything you need from Revy Mousa?"

"Just tell her to come visit her old man soon." Rat assured Scarlet. "We'll be fine at home. Just have a good time with our lassie, yes? And tell her we want grandkids."

"You have the whole orphanage."

________________________________________________________________

Crossover with @ridersoftheapocalypse

current timeline

august 30th, 2024.

it had been a month since james had returned from the greek islands and subsequently requested a move to desk duty and in-country trips only. it was very boring work compared to the year of high stakes adventuring he’d gotten used to, but the rise of the wraiths was just... too much to have to deal with at the moment, and he certainly couldn’t help the order if he were shipped overseas again. so, mindless paperwork and cursed dressers in cardiff it was.

from the corner of his eye he could see smithers, head curse-breaker, approaching and scrambled to look busy, which wasn’t hard considering the number of cursed objects seemed to always rise around this time of the year. he silently skimmed the first report he grabbed from his stack, hoping his boss would pass by quickly so james could get back to banging his head on the wall. but he’d always had shit luck, so when smithers stopped at his desk, he grinned up at her and politely asked, “ can i help you, ma’am? ”

“ you can, actually, ” she responded curtly, “ there’s been an opening on an excavation in egypt and i want you to tag along. get some more experience on the field. it’s more high risk than you’re used to and i know you requested no overseas trips but it would only be a couple months, half a year at most, and you’d be on my team the whole time so i’ll make sure you’re safe. it’s a little last minute, so you’d have to leave tomorrow. ”

an excavation in egypt! its the assignment james had been hoping for since he’d completed his training two years ago. not only would it be an amazing learning experience but also the chance to encounter some seriously cursed objects, which is the thrill he’d always been seeking when he was in school... but half a year, away from the order? away from his family? unable to be there immediately if they ever needed him? it was too risky.

with a small frown, he sighed, “ as much as i would love to go, and i really do appreciate the offer, i’m afraid i just can’t commit to an assignment that far away. i’m very sorry. now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a meeting with my uncle percy to discuss the increasing number of cursed brooms the bank seems to be gaining possession of. ” the man rose from his desk.

“ well, if you’re sure, ” she nodded, returning the frown, “ i guess walker will have to do. let me know if you change your mind in the next twelve hours. ” he wouldn’t.

november 1st, 2024.

he was sat on the sofa, head on his mum’s shoulder. albus sat next to him, close enough for james to keep a sturdy grip on his brother’s hand ( maybe too hard, but he refused to let go in his fear that another one of his family would suddenly be gone, as irrational as it sounded ). lily sat on the ground, and james was absentmindedly stroking her hair the way they used to when they were kids. it was a hard loss, but at least the remaining potters were together. in his pocket sat a two way mirror, but it was useless seeing as the owner of the other was gone now. doesn’t mean james wouldn’t still try. the radio reported the death of walker in some hospital in egypt, but he wasn’t listening.

alternate timeline — the third war never happened

august 30th, 2024.

he had been assigned an excavation in egypt! it’s the assignment james had been hoping for since he completed his training two years ago. not only would it be an amazing learning experience but also the chance to encounter some seriously cursed objects, which is the thrill he’d always been seeking when he was in school. smithers said she’d been impressed by his performance in greece and that he was ready to take on a higher risk. no more desk-duty and cursed dressers in cardiff! thank merlin.

it was noon. the man rose from his desk and all but skipped towards the door. nothing could bring down his mood right now.

“ and where do you think you’re going? ” questioned smithers, stopping him in his tracks.

he grinned in reply, “ goodbye lunch with my family! and a dinner at my nan’s with everyone tonight. my sister leaves for her next term at hogwarts in two days and usually we’d have it tomorrow, but since i’m leaving tomorrow we’ve decided to have it today instead. ” james gently reminded, “ you approved my half day on monday. ”

“ well, then i guess it’s okay. enjoy the rest of your day off. i expect to see you here tomorrow bright and early for the portkey, though! ”

he nodded eagerly and continued towards the exit, but not before making a quick pit stop at walker’s desk to remind him, “ you’re going to the department of magical transportation, right? to follow up on all those cursed brooms? would you tell my uncle percy i say hello? thanks very much! ” and with that, he left to go spend time with his family for the last time until the holidays.

november 1st, 2024.

he was somewhere bright. people were shining things in his face but all he could focus on was the sharp pain everywhere and how hard it was to breathe when someone was siphoning blood out of his throat every five seconds to keep him from choking. he could only hear short phrases in between the agony and the numerous mediwizards rushing around him — “ ...internal bleeding... ” “ ...curse... ” “ ...trap... ”

oh. oh. james remembered now. he’d taken the hit from a rogue curse for smithers in the tomb they’d been exploring. it was supposed to be low risk, just recon, but someone ( fuck you, randall ) set off a trap. and now he was probably dying, in a hospital, in egypt, and none of his family knew. none of his family knew. he could see smithers to the side, looking more worried than james thought she had the emotional capacity to, and his bag of belongings on the table by her. he reached out and grabbed her wrist, pointing at the bag.

“ mirror, ” he choked out desperately. someone grabbed his arm and kept him pinned down to the bed as his body involuntarily jerked in pain, but he soon saw his two way mirror in front of his face and his dad’s frantic expression staring back at him. “ dad, ” he smiled painfully, “ mum. i love you. ” he gave a big toothy grin but immediately winced.

the world was starting to get dark around the edges. in the distance, he could hear mediwizards yelling at him, “ C’MON JAMES, STAY WITH US! ” and his parents screaming his name, “ JAMES! JAMES, NO! ” but at the very far end of the room, he thought he saw his grandfather smiling at him. he’d always wanted to meet james i.

Michael Myers’ Psychosexuality

Ok, so, I don’t know if this is already a thing, but I was rewatching the latest Halloween movie, and I noticed a few scenes in particular that stood out to me and can potentially give us clues about Michael’s sexuality or at least a reason why he kills in the first place. It has already been established that Michael Myers is basically pure evil able to walk; however, I think that reasoning is way too black and white. Rewatching the movie popped another idea in my head, one that has been often overlooked. 

I also want to clarify that I do not support the concept of him being brothers with Laurie Strode, and I only take the first and the latest movie into consideration in my analysis.

Warning: Major spoilers ahead including gory details.

In Halloween (2018), Michael kills 17 people in total. His first four kills after being locked up for 40 years occur when he’s being transported by a bus that happens to crash. It is very likely that Michael Myers himself is the reason for the crash, as we can later catch a glimpse of the bus driver’s corpse. The same applies to the bus guard who warns Michael’s next victim to run away instead of waiting for the police. 

So these first two kills take place off-screen, giving the viewers a hint that Michael is basically free and ready to go on a killing spree in Haddonfield. His next target is the little boy that has left the car to look for his daddy. Michael gets quickly rid of him on-screen in order to steal their car and have an easier time reaching Haddonfield. It is implied that Michael kills the father off-screen. Thus, the intention behind all these kills is clear. Michael doesn’t kill them out of his dark desire to do so but to further his goal.

Moving forward, Michael pays the two nosy investigative journalists a visit in order to get his mask back and probably because they annoyed him. Though there is a key moment that sparked my interest the most. When Michael arrives at the gas station where they have been taking a break, he brutally murders two people off-screen. The car mechanic to wear his suit and the employee guy. 

He proceeds to slowly approach Dana, the female journalist, who has been sitting on the toilet. Firstly, this alone is a huge violation of privacy since he doesn’t quietly wait for her to be done (why would he anyway?) but steadily walks inside and waits in front of the restroom door that she’s sitting behind. Dana repeatedly tells Michael---obviously unaware of who he really is---that she’s already in there. Instead of listening to her, though, Michael shows her the teeth of his previous victim(s) by letting them dramatically fall on the floor.

Oh.

Oh.

This is one of the ways Michael gets off. Sexually. He enjoys scaring beautiful woman, preferably teenagers. That’s why he is doing this and doesn’t just kill her. In fact, he didn’t have a particular reason to go and kill her first because she wasn’t even in his way per se. She was busy in the restroom, so why didn’t he kill Aaron first? He preferred shocking Dana with his same old creepy build-up tactics. He completely loves this. Michael lives for this. This is further highlighted at the end of the killing scene when Dana desperately crawls and attempts to escape from the stalls, and Michael starts dragging her by her feet. Aaron being alarmed after witnessing the two dead bodies follows them to the restroom, rushing to her aid. And what does Michael do? He kills him in one of the most disgusting and violent ways one could imagine, bashing him into the stall Dana is hiding in. And then... does he murder her as brutally as he murders Aaron? 

Nope.

Michael begins to choke her, and she makes orgasmic expressions. 

And that’s it.

He chokes her to death. Nothing more. No blood, no gore. None of that.

On another note, it is only implied in the movie but confirmed in the script that Dana and Aaron are lovers. So Michael kills a couple once again! Just like he killed his sister after seeing her with her boyfriend and killed the two friends of Laurie who were both in relationships!

On to the next part that intrigued me a lot and simultaneously gives huge hints about what Michael had to be thinking during these moments. 

Michael arrives in the suburban neighbourhood, surrounded by children who are trick-or-treating. He walks inside a home that he found on the way, holding a hammer in his hand; and he beats a middle-aged woman to death off-screen. He does this because he wants her kitchen knife. Plain and simple. No other motives. Then, he hears a baby crying and approaches but ends up sparing the baby’s life. Why does he do this? No, not because he has some sort of moral compass but because he has no reason to kill the baby.

First off, the baby is way too young and helpless to ever present itself as a real threat to Michael. Secondly, Michael obviously doesn’t care about babies. What he cares about is stalking young, attractive woman and getting off on that, and then eventually killing them. Thus, he ignores the baby and keeps on walking through the neighbourhood. This is when he suddenly comes across a beautiful woman that is dressed up in a sexy nurse costume.

Michael stands completely still and keeps staring at her to the point of her noticing him and staring back, evidently creeped out.

However, they are interrupted by her boyfriend. The couple ignores Michael’s presence and gets into their car. Michael turns around and faces a house in which another middle-aged woman is busy talking on the phone, reassuring her friend that she is safe. Seconds later, Michael has already broken in and stabs her in her throat. Now, the question is, why the fuck would Michael do this? He legitimately had no reason to kill her. So, is Michael just a psychopath who kills people on a whim? 

No. He doesn’t kill anyone on a whim.

His reaction was so strong because the couple reminded him of Judith, his older sister, whom he had killed at the age of six when he witnessed her having sex with her boyfriend. This triggered an equally violent reaction in Michael, and he was angered by the sight of a beautiful woman with another man. I will later come back to this thought. 

Next up, the following scene is an obvious nod to the first Halloween movie. Michael stalks Allyson’s teenage friend Vicky, who is supposed to babysit on Halloween night. 

So he watches her all the way to the point where her boyfriend arrives and shares a heavy makeout session with her.

But Julian---the kid she was supposed to babysit---is scared and asks her to look in his closet, claiming that he saw the bogeyman. When she does this, Michael gets the drop on her and stabs her to death. Dave rushes to help her, but he ends up being killed off-screen. The kid Julian seemingly escapes. Once again, this is what Michael enjoys. He had absolutely no reason to kill them other than the fact that he gets fucking off on this. This shit turns him on because he doesn’t know how to express his sexuality in other ways. He has voyeuristic and violent sexual fantasies that he fulfils by killing attractive girls, especially with their boyfriends.

Then, there is another important, telling scene. Michael stalks Allyson and Oscar. After he confesses his feelings to her, Allyson leaves angered by his attempts to make a move on her. Oscar is drunk and notices Michael standing next to a tree. He starts making a conversation with him and asks him: 

“Have you ever really liked a girl, and you just couldn’t have her?”

Why would they put this in unless this line was supposed to compare his situation to the situation of Michael’s obsession with Laurie? Michael really likes Laurie, but he can’t have her, so he wants her even more. He really liked these girls, but he can’t have them, so he kills them to express his sexual desire.

Later that night, he gets hit by a car in which Allyson is sitting, and Michael ends up killing his own psychiatrist and yet spares Allyson’s life. For now. 

He even watches Allyson get away to the forest. This would be Michael’s chance to kill her, easily so. Especially when she’s alone in a dark forest. But he chooses not to. He does this on purpose. Like I said, he fucking loves this. 

This game of cat and mouse, letting his victim escape and stalking them later. It’s fun to him. It potentially even turns him on and lets him fulfil his sexual lust.

Michael kills more policemen brutally including crushing his psychiatrist’s head with his boot like a watermelon and then arrives at his final destination. 

His favourite victim, his obsession: Laurie Strode. 

Once again, he is interrupted. This time, it is by Allyson’s dad, and he quickly murders him, putting no thought to it. He doesn’t stalk him like he stalked the babysitter or he stalked Allyson and even let her get away twice. Because he doesn’t get off on killing people he isn’t attracted to. They are merely a burden to him and need to get out of his fucking way as soon as possible to let him stalk his preferred victims and give him room to get off on that. 

Now that he found the Strode family, he couldn’t be more excited. This time, he is attacking right away. He starts choking Laurie like he did in the first movie and to many other female victims of his.

And the cat and mouse game continues. 

This is the fundamental theme of the movies, Michael stalking beautiful woman and getting off on that. He is evil so he has no guilt about murdering them, but he doesn’t murder them because he is evil---he murders them because it turns him on and serves as a sexual relief for him. Him being evil is merely a side effect. Michael doesn’t know how to express his sexuality in any other way. In his mind, he cannot have these girls. The only way of getting closer to them is to stalk and eventually murder them. So it is quite likely that Michael is a huge misogynist and hates women. But above that, Michael views them as objects of his violent desires. And that’s what leads him to kill them.

Keep in mind, this is only my personal interpretation so you can take it with a grain of salt. I have way more to analyse, especially because I left out many key moments from the first movie that partially had even stronger sexual themes. Anyhow, I hope whoever is reading this enjoyed it and has other questions/ideas/suggestions about Michael Myers!

Friend with benefit

You had a friend with benefit that was toxic and Changkyun came to save you. 

This took so long and i’m finally out with it. Above 18 only please. 

You took a deep breath and exhaled in great relief when you saw the results on the stick showing a negative. 

Your period has skipped and you have been experiencing some symptoms of what looks like a pregnancy - losing your appetite, feeling nauseous all the time, especially in the mornings and when you smell something weird in the air, the cramps every now and then, the aches on your back and bloatedness in your abdomen. 

Pregnancy scares were not something new to you, but it usually came in the form of irregular periods without other symptoms so this time it got you more worried. When the stick showed negative, you could now safely visit a doctor without the fear of hearing something that you didn’t quite want to hear. 

You dragged yourself out of the toilet and made your way back to your seat. You had managed to grab a pregnancy test kit at the convenient store on your way to office this morning and had to discreetly take it to the toilet with you without anyone noticing. You were quite glad that your colleagues were not busybodies, and everyone tend to be busy typing away on their computers first thing in the morning, so you could use the time to sneak away to the toilet before they start breaking off to make some coffee or breakfast at the pantry, which was next to the toilet. 

“Are you okay? You look really sick,” your colleague Miyeon saw you slumped on your seat with your head resting on the chair and eyes closed. 

“Yeah, I’m just feeling really nauseous.” 

“Still? You were like this for quite a few days.” 

“Yeah, i think it got worse today.” 

“You’d better take the day off and go see a doctor.” 

“Yeah I’m planning on doing that, is boss in already? 

“Yes, he’s in his office already.” 

You waved Miyeon away and went back to closing your eyes for awhile. 

Your phone buzzed while you were waiting for the bus outside the office building. The text that you were waiting for seemed to come a little too late, but it was always like that with him. Always a little too late. 

From T: Hey, are you okay? 

A text that was all too familiar but never helpful. But at least it came. 

Reply: why not? 

From T: I saw you walking out and you looked pale 

Miyeon and the rest were telling you to take care before you left the office. You had gotten permission from your boss to take the rest of the day off and packed up to leave. He must have heard them and noticed that you were leaving. 

Reply: yeah wasn’t feeling too well so I’m going home now 

From T: okay take care 

You had always wanted him to not show much concern to you, to keep things at a distance, so his reply should be perfect. But somehow it made you feel bitter. Somehow you were always wishing that he would ask a little more - “what happened?”, “How do you feel?”, “Please see a doctor”, “What did the doctor say?”, “how are you going home?” 

But you will slap yourself, telling yourself, “of course his reply would be like this. Why would he give you anything more? You were not even his girlfriend.” You laughed a little at your own stupidity and hailed a taxi to the doctor’s clinic. This was how you brushed your own thoughts and emotions away all the time. Even though the both of you were fucking each other on a regular basis, you were not the one he was going to marry. It made your heart ache even more but it was the truth that you had to accept. 

In the beginning, you would stay in bed and cuddle with him after sex. Forgetting about the world, forgetting about reality and letting time stay in the moment as the two of you indulged in just each other and each other only. You were happy to have him completely in those moments, you felt that that was enough for you, even though the both of you would pretend not to know each other that well on an ordinary day, in front of everyone else. But the taste of bitterness and disappointment hit you completely in the face when he brought his girlfriend up to office one day. She had a big diamond ring on her fourth finger, silently announcing that he had proposed to her. You felt betrayed because of all the times you have slept together, he had not mentioned anything at all about the engagement. In fact, deep down you were expecting them to break up one day because if he had truly loved her, he wouldn’t be fucking around behind her back, isn’t it? From that day on, you’ve decided that friends with benefits should remain as that with no strings attached. So after fucking, you would get up and leave in a fake chirpy way, thanking him for the good fuck and making it a point to always be the one who leave first. 

He did not need your emotions so you have learnt that there was no need to spill those unnecessary emotions on him. Even when you were feeling anxious about the pregnancy scares, when you wished that while he was on top of you, he would kiss the top of your head just because you had a bad day, you never told him. 

The both of you met in school and knew each other for the longest time. He was always the decent, responsible and intelligent guy. A complete opposite from you who is emotional, dramatic and outgoing. The both of you clicked well, but of course a good guy like him would choose to be with the girl who was demure, pampered and submissive. Throughout the years, he had always complained about how his girlfriend was incompatible with him, how he could not tell her about his struggles because she simply did not understand. It was one night when he accidentally revealed that they never had sex in the 10 years together, that you laughed at him and started talking about topics of sex. Talking eventually led to acting out on the real deal and that’s when the both of you became sex buddies, satisfying each other’s needs and nothing more. 

The relationship somehow affected your self-esteem as well. While you were able to make him feel good in bed, hearing his girlfriend, who was now his fiancé, talked about going on a trip to Europe with him, made it clear that you were nobody instantly. While they were going on dates to nice restaurants talking about their day and their future, you could only swipe for guys on Tinder who were uninterested in a relationship, or if they were, they would be creeps or nerds who were below average. But a girl like you could only get such guys isn’t it? So you were never fussy about the guys who chat you up, after all you were not getting any younger. 

He did not really care about the guys that you were going out with anyway. He would ask if you were going out with the guy and if you said yes, he would say good for you, and that if you wanted to stop the sex thing, you could let him know anytime. 

You knew you had to get out of this, but you have been beating your self-esteem so low that you didn’t know how to love yourself anymore. 

“Is this yours?” somebody tapped on your shoulder. It was a young guy who mumbled his speech. 

“Oh yes, thank you,” you replied and turned back around. He didn’t have to disturb you, it was just a useless promotional brochure that slipped out of the bag of medicine that the clinic handed to you. 

“The bus just left, and you look really unwell... maybe you want to take a seat? I don’t think the bus is gonna come soon....” the young man continued, and at this point, you were getting somewhat annoyed. The weather was hot and you were not feeling good, yet this guy kept trying to strike a conversation that you were totally not interested in. 

“No it’s fine, thank you.” But you went to take a seat after probably 5 seconds later. You were planning on taking a seat but you didn’t want to appear to be accepting his offer, in case he took the chance to carry on a conversation with you. 

He sat down next to you after awhile, but he probably figured that you were not in the mood, so he whipped out his Beats earphones and started looking for music in his phone. 

You’ve noticed that he was running an album that you liked and you were surprised. It was an old jazz album and not many people listened to such music, and almost nobody around you have heard of this singer. 

You peeked at his phone to see him scrolling and which song he will eventually choose, and he probably noticed someone staring at his phone, so he stopped scrolling and stared at you. You were embarrassed as you know how annoying it was for a stranger to peek at your phone while standing or sitting next to you on public transport. It was an invasion of personal space and privacy, you could see it that way. So you bit your lips and looked away. 

The guy took off his earphones and hooked them around his neck, he turned to you with his phone, “do you listen to jazz?” 

“Not really, but I know this album. It’s my favourite...” 

“Which is your favourite song?” 

“Paris.”

“Oh, I prefer Tangled Up. It suits her voice better. Paris sounds like a movie soundtrack that shouldn’t have been in this album.” 

You felt rather insulted because everyone has their own choice on what they like or do not like, and he did not have to be so upfront about it. But you were more impressed that he was assertive and objective in voicing his opinion. You were expecting him to praise and go along with your choice since he was trying to hit on you earlier on. 

You shrugged and continued to stare into blank space. 

“Why do you think people like to put things into where they don’t belong?” you asked without turning away from where you were staring. It sounded more like a question that you were asking yourself. 

“Maybe the person knew that it didn’t belong, but put it in anyway wishing that it will be accepted. She probably was hoping to receive some kind of validation so that she can justify why she felt that way about something.”  

“But it hurts even more when nobody validates... It’s like reality giving you a big hit in the face...” 

“Well, you just said that that’s your favourite song. There, she has someone who is validating the reason why she put this song in. And you don’t always need to have people validating your choices, if you feel that you want to give it a shot for yourself, then go for it.” It felt like he knew you were not talking about the song but about your life, and he did not want to openly talk about it to embarrass you. It felt like as if he was someone you could trust and open up to. 

“Do you believe in friends with benefits?” 

“I don’t know if I believe in it or not because I’ve never tried it, but I’m intrigued by it though.” 

“Don’t bother trying. It’s a waste of time.” 

“Then why don’t you waste it on me?” 

By this time, you turned to face him in shock. You saw him eye to eye and realised that his nose is high and sharp, his eyes are nicely shaped they look like the eyes of a little wolf. His lips are thin and his brows are thick. He looks young, probably a few years younger than you are. The best part of him was his voice. It was so deep and raspy that it made him 10 times more attractive. 

After you got home, you could not stop thinking about what happened. You were left dumbfounded and the guy simply left you his number and told you that you could contact him anytime. It sounded like a good deal because you could now move on and forget about T once and for all, plus this guy was not the worst you’ve contemplated. In fact, he was the most attractive of all the guys you have thought of using to get out of your current affair with the attached man. But part of you could not do it because he was literally a stranger you met at the bus stop. You knew nothing about him and what he was truly looking for. 

But as you thought about your relationship with T and how it was heading to doom, you felt that you had nothing to lose at all at this point, so you picked up your phone and texted the bus-stop guy. 

Sent: Hey, do you want to go for a drink? Maybe next week or something? After I recover from this stomach flu....

There was no reply and you were getting a little fidgety so after 15 minutes of silence, you decided to take your medicine and go to sleep so that you don’t have to deal with the anxiety of waiting. 

You woke up in the middle of the night, all groggy from the drowsiness of your medicine. You looked at your phone to check the time and also saw a new message that you’ve been waiting for. 

From bus stop guy: Sure. But are you sure you want to drink after you’ve recovered? 

Sent: Or what else would you suggest? 

After you’ve sent the text, you decided to get up to have something to eat and to take your medicine again before going back to sleep. When you returned to your bed, there was a message already on your phone. 

From bus stop guy: Hmm let’s do dinner instead, we could decide if you want to drink after that or not

Sent: Sounds good... hit me up with your availability and the place. I’m a little to out of it to think now. I just woke up and I’m going right back to sleep. 

From bus stop guy: Sure. I’ll let you know again at a later date. Get well soon. 

Going back to work after you’ve rested for a few days felt like you were back into dealing with the bitter reality. The first person you saw when you pushed through the main door to the office was T and the both of you merely stared at each other for two seconds before he pretended to rush off to wherever he was going with those papers in his hands. You felt like rolling your eyes at what you had to deal with the first thing you came back, but your heart also sank knowing that he did not even have a look of concern in his eyes. 

When it was nearing lunchtime, your phone buzzed and it was a text from T. 

From T: Are you feeling better? 

Sent: Yes, I guess so. If not I wouldn’t be back in office. 

From T: Great. So... are you free tonight? 

From T: It felt like I haven’t seen you in so long... 

He probably meant that he hasn’t fucked you in so long. You were thinking of an appropriate response to sent to him, hoping to avoid the whole topic of sex but a new text came in and your heart immediately jumped. 

From bus stop guy: Hope you are feeling better now. And I hope you didn’t forget about what we spoke about last week.

From bus stop guy: If you are free tomorrow night, let’s have prime ribs if you are up for it. 

Sent: Sure! 

You replied almost immediately, happy that you had something to distract you from the previous message. And you could forget about replying him now that you got someone new to talk to. 

You left work on time that day, and waited for your date outside the mall where the restaurant was. It took him awhile to arrive and you were wondering which guy would actually turn up late on the first date. 

When he appeared, he was in plaid flannel shirt and black jeans, he looked really young, definitely younger than you were, since you were in office wear and he looked like he came from home on a weekday. 

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, let’s go!” he said a little out of breath. 

You were fairly distracted at the restaurant. You spent a long time looking at the menu but nothing seemed to interest you. You settled with a classic choice of bbq ribs as the easiest way out while your date chose to go with a prime cut with pineapple slices as toppings. He was the first to start a conversation after the waiter walked away with your orders. 

“So how was work today?” 

“Not too bad, just doing the same old stuff. Usually there would be meetings and meetings at my place tend to go on for more than an hour, so on days when there’s no meetings, the day seems to go slower and more relaxed, and today is one of those days,” you have been accustomed to small talks and learnt that it was easier to talk more about work than anything else. 

“Pardon me, but I’m gonna jump into asking the very basic questions because I realised I don’t know much about you. I don’t even think I know your name...” 

You laughed, “oh yes, I don’t think we have introduced ourselves properly. My name is ________” 

“And I’m Changkyun,” he said with a smile that made his dimple show on his left side. 

“So what do you do? Have you even started working?” You were getting really curious about his age. 

“Kind of, I’m doing freelance producing music and writing songs. What about you? What do you work as?” He picked up the glass of water towards the end of his sentence and started sipping after he has finished his question. 

“I’m an administrator in a law firm. So I sort out all the paperwork, and lots of paperwork for the lawyers at my company.” 

“Wow, that sounds like a very serious job,” usually when people hear about your job, you knew their first reaction was to comment that it was a very boring job, whether they say it directly or within a joke, but you were glad that Changkyun masked it quite well and showed no sign of meaning that it was a boring job when he used the word “serious”. 

“It’s a really boring job”, you always admit it first so that you don’t have to hear it from one more person. 

“Hmm... is that why you are looking for a friend with benefit?” 

You almost choked on the ribs that arrived while the both of you were talking. It was a little awkward because you were struggling whether to deny it or to play it cool and you couldn’t decide what was the best thing to do at that moment, so you pretended to be busy with your food. 

“I don’t know. What about you? Do you have one now?” you tried to divert the topic to him instead. 

“I don’t know”, he seemed to be quite smart in terms of giving out the equal amount of information as you, so it will not be a case where you get to know more about him than he knew about you. 

“What do guys in general think about the idea of friends with benefit? Guys love that idea, right?” you started to broaden the topic to make things less personal and awkward, but also not straying away from it. 

“I guess most guys would like the idea, I mean, let’s be honest, guys will not say no to sex.” 

“Plus there’s no commitment, all the better.” 

“Well, there is a certain level of commitment if you think about it. Friends with benefits are based on the premise that was drawn out beforehand, isn’t it? Like both parties will have to talk about what goes in and out of the whole,” he gestured, “deal or something. Like if either party catches feelings, then it’s called off or something.” 

“Catching feelings is always the dealbreaker,” you agreed solemnly. 

“So when was the last time you have properly dated a guy? I mean properly went out and in a relationship, not the hookups and friends with benefits type.” 

“Hey! I don’t only hook-” you caught yourself being extremely defensive all of a sudden and got a grip of yourself for a moment. “I am not that kind of women that you think I am, just because I’ve been asking questions about friends with benefit, doesn’t mean-” you abruptly ended your sentence because what you were going to say did not hold true. “I’m just curious” you lowered your voice to the point where you were just mumbling to yourself. 

He laughed. He laughed in the “he thinks you are cute” kind of laugh. And you turned red in your seat, you were not sure if you were embarrassed or if you were blushing. 

“So you haven’t answered my question - when was the last time you properly dated a guy?” 

You thought about it for awhile. “Now that you’ve asked, it really has been a long time,” you said in a sad tone. 

“One month ago? Or three months ago?” 

“Hey! What do you take me for??” you raised your voice to the defensive volume again and he laughed again. 

“Okok, I was just joking, so when was it?” 

“It might really go back to my school days?” you said as you try to recall those sketchy memories. 

“Wow are you kidding me?” 

“No, I mean, it’s difficult to define because I’ve met guys in between but it’s usually just one date and that’s it.” 

“One date and that’s it?” 

“Yeah and I don’t mean one night stand okay. It’s like this, where we just go out for dinner, talk, and that’s it.” 

“No more follow-ups after that?” 

“Nope, not even texts. I mean there’s one or two but the conversations couldn’t sustain. And the rest, just no. Maybe I bored them off at dinner...” 

“Well, I don’t think you are boring, I mean, at least I am not bored now.” 

“You speak too soon, young man. Let’s see what happens after this.” 

“Yeah, we’ll see” he shrugged and smirked again while reaching for his glass to take drink. 

“So how old are you?” you asked as the both of you walked out of the shopping mall. 

“Guess?” 

“20.” 

“Do I really look that young?” 

“The way you insisted on paying for the meal doesn’t make you seem older than you are, in case you are thinking that it will,” you teased. 

“I’m 23.”

“Wow, that’s really young. Now I am really feeling it - old.” 

“Come on, you are not that much older than me. Are you?” 

You stared at him with puppy eyes and nodded. Changkyun rolled his eyes. 

“So what are you? 25?” 

You pretended to ugly cry. “I’m even older than that.”

“What? Are you serious?” 

You pretended to ugly cry again. “Oh my gosh, you are a baby.”

He rolled his eyes again. You laughed as you sat down with him at the taxi stand. 

“Where do you stay? Let me take you home,” he said as he took out his phone to open the Grab app. 

“I am old enough to go back home on my own, and it’s late, I should be the one sending you home.” 

He rolled his eyes again and you found it amusing to tease him about his age. 

He got a Grab and dropped you off first anyway. Before you got off, he said it was nice meeting you and he had a good night, but you just had to tease him one last time, “thank you for tonight, and the next time I will buy you dinner. Bye boy boy!” 

Going to work the next day felt like a return to reality. Back to the boring and routine lifestyle. The worst part was overhearing your colleagues gathering around to ask T about his wedding plans. You really didn’t need to hear about how both families have met to discuss but nothing concrete was out. What made everything worse was that Changkyun did not text you after you got home, and you didn’t know what to say even if you wanted to text first. 

You began swiping on Tinder again and matched with a few guys. One of them were looking to hookup which you agreed to after hesitating for awhile. But you figured that you had nothing to do and nothing to lose so you might as well have some fun, and started arranging with the guy for the hookup.

Your day ended even worse when you had to avoid taking the same lift as T by pretending to have left something behind, only to see him walk out of the lobby hand in hand with his fiancée. 

You needed the hookup to happen right now but the guy had plans. 

That night, you received a text from Changkyun, but your mood was already at its lowest. 

From Changkyun: the old lady at the shop called me “boy boy” today and it reminded me of you *roll eyes emoji*

From Changkyun: so you should be off work by now? how’s your day? 

Sent: very shitty 

From Changkyun: oh... what happened? 

Sent: shit happened 

From Changkyun: sounds bad. Want to talk about it? 

Sent: it’s a long story but anyway to make matters worse, I am planning a hookup with some guy on Tinder 

From Changkyun: oh wow

Sent: I actually needed it today but too bad he has got plans 

At this point you were so angry and frustrated that you were just speaking spitefully without a care about whether Changkyun would think of you as that kind of person and leave. You just wanted to vent and blamed him for not texting you to help make your day better. If you had thought about this rationally, there was no way for him to reply to your texts too. Your texts were just shutting him off. 

From Changkyun: was it really so bad? 

Sent: how about you try fucking some guy and watch him marry someone else instead

From Changkyun: okay that is bad. And are you still fucking that guy? Wait, is that your friend with benefit? 

Sent: Ya I fucked up. I mean, of course I’m fucked up that’s why he is marrying someone else right? 

From Changkyun: come on, don’t say that about yourself. Actually he is the one who is fucked up if he has a friend with benefit when he is marrying someone already. 

Sent: And you know what’s the most fucked up part? Is that it hurts even though I know

From Changkyun: of course it hurts, it’s not even just about the emotional attachment, it’s the whole idea that he is getting away with this without his fiancée knowing, he is literally deceiving everyone

Sent: Yes and having to watch him deceive everyone every single day is killing me 

From Changkyun: oh you mean he works at the same place as you? 

Sent: yes 

From Changkyun: oh shit. Why do you do this to yourself? You should just quit. 

Sent: I know right. I think I should really find someone to hook up with so that I can stop feeling like shit

From Changkyun: that’s not a long term solution though 

Sent: yeah I need a long term boyfriend but that wouldn’t happen overnight

From Changkyun: Things take time, especially when it comes to building a relationship 

You were in such a lousy mood that you did not want to hear Changkyun’s lectures anymore. So you left the text as it was and went to sleep. 

The next day, he texted you before lunchtime to ask if you slept well and also some animal memes. But you were in no mood to entertain. You were supposed to meet the guy you were hooking up with that night so you were anticipating it with mixed feelings. On one hand you knew that it will not help you feel better, but on the other hand, you wish that it will because you didn’t know what else could help. 

When you met the guy, you were nervous and awkward. You didn’t know how to behave because it was the first time meeting him. Lucky he seemed quite experienced so he first asked if you were okay to go ahead with the arrangement. You nodded and he suggested to go to the convenience store to grab some condoms and lubes before going up to the hotel. He said that alcohol would help to relax and ease the both of you in and asked which alcohol would you like. You went along with whichever that he picked since your mind wasn’t there at all. You did not know if this was the right thing to do. You were not the type of person who will sleep with a stranger that you’ve met for the first time. You slept with T because you had feelings. But because of the way you were treated, you felt like your feelings didn’t matter, and you didn’t matter. At least sex was pleasurable and you could make the other party feel good and feel that you were good. But you were not sure if you wanted to make the guy who was standing right next to you now feel good. You were just not sure if you truly wanted this. You only wanted this because it was a common thing that people do to distract and detach themselves from all sorts of emotional attachments. 

Just as he was about to pay, you stretched out and grabbed his arm to stop him. “I’m sorry”, was all that you could say. You left the store feeling like crap as the guy gave you a “what the hell” look, and you felt like a loser who didn’t know what she wanted. 

You took out your phone and texted Changkyun. 

Sent: I was supposed to do the hookup tonight, but I fucked up. 

Changkyun did not reply so you walked aimlessly on the streets, your mind was everywhere but it was also blank. After forever, Changkyun replied. 

From Changkyun: What happened? 

Sent: I backed out and I’m just wandering around now. Can I call you? 

You were expecting Changkyun to reply but his call came in instead and you were so grateful. When you heard his voice, you couldn’t say anything except to cry. Changkyun did not say anything but let you cry for awhile before he said in a calm and soothing voice, he tried not to sound startled, “It’s okay, it’s okay, where are you now?” 

When he arrived at where you were, he saw you sitting on small step that led up to a fountain. You were so small and vulnerable, like a lost kitten that was waiting for someone to rescue her. He didn’t know what happened but he knew that you were not at your best and you probably needed help so he rushed down after receiving your google location pin. Changkyun did not know what to say to you when he approached you. He could only gently asked, “hey, are you okay?” 

You had your head down but when you heard him, you looked up at him. You shook your head and he saw that you had tears on your face and he didn’t know what to say. His heart softened and he inched closer to embrace you, and he slowly pulled you into his chest, stroking your head and letting you cry in his arms. This was such a confusing moment for him. He didn’t know what’s going on and he didn’t even know you that well. You were curt and emotional in your texts just yesterday and today you called him up to cry. A brief thought that you were dramatic and had a complicated life flashed through his mind, but he was more concerned about the present moment when he held you in his arms. He just wanted you to feel better, and he wanted to help you feel better, especially when he felt that you moved closer into his embrace and held him back tighter. 

When he felt that you were crying less, he moved and held your face so that he could look at you. You were so embarrassed that when you saw him staring at you, you looked down to avoid eye contact. He wiped your tears away with his thumbs and the back of his hand, and as he did that, he thought that you were beautiful as you had pretty features. You looked soft and in need of protection at that moment. He couldn’t help it but kissed your forehead. When you did not reject or react in shock and move away, he stroked your cheeks with his thumb while he was still holding your face like as if you were a piece of precious art, and slowly kissed your lips with soft kisses. He was so gentle and his lips were so soft that it’s as if you felt all the comfort that he could not put into words through the kisses. You were afraid that he might stop and pull away and you did not want him to stop, so you kissed him back with a little more force, and you placed your arms around him, hugging him tighter. He entertained your kisses for awhile but pulled away before it turned into a full blown makeout. He knew that it would be easy for things to escalate as you were looking for a physical distraction but he did not want things to turn out like this between the two of you. Instead, he pulled away and asked, “are you feeling better now?” 

When you nodded, he asked if you want to go to somewhere else instead and if you had eaten. He took you to a cafe nearby and ordered the food and drinks for you. You felt like a child who got into trouble in school and he was the parent who was bringing you home after having a word with the school principal. Changkyun had many questions but he knew that it wasn’t the right time to ask, and he was planning to ask after you have eaten something. 

He asked if you wanted to take a walk after that, which you obliged. You haven’t said anything much the whole night and you felt that you owed him some explanation for having to handle you when you were in such a mess. 

“I think I’ve asked this quite a few times, and I get that you might not want to talk about it, so you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’m gonna ask what happened?” 

You started talking from what happened at the convenient store and how you backed out from the hookup. You told him that what truly bothered you was how you felt like a loser because you had wanted to use this as a distraction from the real issue - which is your hookup with T. 

You told him the story about T and how you had been fucking him even though he has a girlfriend, now Fiancee. And how you knew you shouldn’t be bothered but you can’t help but feel upset and hurt all the time when you hear about their news. 

“It’s time to move,” he said. “The whole issue is hurting you too much, and nothing is gonna change. He is not gonna stop marrying her and he can’t just have both worlds where he gets to keep fucking you at the same time. That’s just unfair to you.” 

“I know, but I don’t know why somehow I just end up going back all the time. It’s just not so easy...” 

“Let me help you with that”, Changkyun said as he looked straight into your eyes. 

You stared at Changkyun for awhile and went straight for a kiss. You didn’t know what took over you. Maybe it was because of his voice that was so low and smooth, or maybe it was the way his eyes looked, he was especially attractive and in that moment, you wanted him. 

He was taken aback but he allowed you to continue. You were aggressively going for his mouth and deepening the kiss, urging him to open up so that you could put your tongue in his. It did not take long for him to give you what you wanted and the both of you were in a heated make out before he pulled away, gasping for air as he whispered, “wanna go somewhere else?” 

You nodded and quickly got up as the both of you found your way to a hotel nearby, hands all over each other on the way. 

The process of checking in and getting into the room felt like a hassle and when the both of you finally entered the room, you jumped onto Changkyun behind the door and started kissing him. His hands were rough with you, rubbing your back and squeezing your ass. 

You were pulling at his shirt which he quickly took it off in between kissing you. You took the chance to take off your shirt too and Changkyun seemed to be even more aroused seeing you in your white bra. He went down to kiss your neck and collar while kneading your breasts. When his lips reached to the top of your breasts, he unbuckled your bra and threw it somewhere in the room, squeezing your entire boob in his hand before he licked his way down to the nipple and sucking on it. 

You were moaning and started shifting to grind against him as you needed some friction between your legs. Changkyun continued sucking and kissing your breasts as you fondled with his hair and he put his thighs out for you to grind. 

You were disappointed when he suddenly put his leg back, leaving you empty. But he quickly wrapped an arm around your waist so that your hips would be closer to him and started rubbing between your legs. It did not take long for him to dip into your panties and insert a finger into you. “How are you this wet already?” Changkyun almost growled. You gasped at the sudden intrusion and the only sound you could make was a moan. He moved his finger in and out a few times and inserted another finger when he felt that you were ready. You were moaning and breathless, knees weak and almost leaning on him entirely for support. 

When Changkyun felt that it was enough, he tapped on your butt to signal for you to jump on him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and sucked at his neck as he walked the both of you to the bed and threw you down without leaving your body. 

He was on top of you and you could feel his weight and how close he was. “Changkyun... fuck me now,” you practically moaned out, legs spreading wide to accommodate him. He did not say anything but kissed you deeply, sucking at your neck and squeezing your breasts. 

You moved your hips to grind at his hips while tucking at his jeans, trying to unbutton and get him to take them off. He took the hint and removed his jeans revealing his black underwear that made you salivate. When he finally took off his underwear along, you were surprised at his size. He was not big per say but he was thick and you could imagine how good he will stretch you out. 

“I forgot about condoms,” Changkyun suddenly stopped pumping his dick. “It’s okay just put it in and pull out later,” you were desperate and did not care, you just needed him inside of you right now. 

When Changkyun was lining his dick and coating it with your juices, you were bucking up, hoping to somehow get his dick inserted into your vagina. “Someone’s really impatient huh?” Changkyun said with a smirk, still rubbing his dick up and down your pussy without entering. 

“Just fuck me already... please,” you almost begged. Changkyun let out a small chuckle before finally entering you. Even though Changkyun did not enter you into you fully in one thrust, your body could not take it as the stretch was bigger than what you’ve expected. When Changkyun was finally balls deep inside you, it felt extremely full even though he was not as long. He was stretching you out in ways you’ve never knew and when he dragged himself out to re-enter you, your walls were convulsing uncontrollably. 

“Oh my... fucking god,” Changkyun moaned as he felt your walls gripping his hard dick. “You are so warm and tight... so wet...” Changkyun was almost choking his words out again. 

He started moving in and out of you faster as he could not resist and you were overwhelmed by how thick and full his dick felt. Everytime your body felt his dick moving out, it was met with the force of his dick pushing back in and stretching you out further as his dick becomes harder and thicker inside of you. 

“You feel so... good...” Changkyun moved faster and faster, completely lost in the feeling of being inside your pussy. You felt his thrust get sloppier and sloppier and you knew he was coming. 

“Come inside, cum inside of me,” you said before Changkyun could asked. 

“Are you sure? You -” 

“Just cum inside, please,” you needed that last bit to complete. The risk was huge but you just didn’t want his cum anywhere else. 

Changkyun managed to pull out and came right outside of your hole instead. 

“Can’t let you take the risk, can we?” Changkyun said lowly as he kissed your lips. 

Variants ch.2

Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides

Pairings: none

Summary:  Patton was surprised by the mutant robbing the jewelry store one night. It was a “right time, right place” circumstance for Patton in that he happened to be there to see them break into the store. And by break in, he meant that they seeped into shadows and appeared on the other side of the windows without breaking anything at all. 

Chapter Navigation: one

AO3 Link

“Well this isn’t ideal,” Logan muttered to himself before ducking at another gunshot.

Yes he was being shot at. No this was not according to plan.

If he had the option, Logan would simply use his powers to shove the dumpster he hid behind down the alley and at the angry drug dealers currently shooting at him. There was just one problem.

He didn’t have his glasses.

Telekinesis was certainly a useful and powerful ability, when one could see what and where to move things in the first place.

“Wonderful,” Logan growled to himself. “My greatest weakness: the Velma complex. I should reconsider my thoughts on investing in contact lenses no matter how repulsive the idea is. Then again, it is perfectly suitable for one to be squeamish about foreign objects touching their eyeballs, but I digress. Contacts would not be able to be knocked off so easily from one’s face, and with them one would be able to see where to aim a dumpster at. But jinkies, I’ve lost my glasses. And would you hoodlums stop shooting at me! I am trying to rant, please and thank you.”

“Get out here mutant freak!” one of the shooters yelled from the mouth of the alley.

Logan’s eye twitched. “How polite of you.”

With no other options available and Logan’s patience snapped, he chunked the dumpster down the alley anyway. It would leave him exposed for more time than he was comfortable with, but hopefully his pursuers would be distracted long enough for him to run deeper into the alley system and lose them. Also, for lack of a better term, fuck it.

Logan sprinted at full speed, the sound of gunfire blasting into the night once more. Luckily, he rounded a corner without any bullets hitting him. Beyond the huffing of his breath he could hear the pounding of footsteps following behind.

Objectively, the situation was not good. Logan’s heart thrashed so erratically in his chest at the thought that he might just die here. Adrenaline worked overtime to keep him going, but the world had been reduced to a dark blur and his breaths hitched painfully sharp in his throat.

Logan rounded a corner, scrambling against the brick wall he nearly face-planted into. He picked up the pace when he saw that the end of this particular alley led to somewhere lighter, presumably a street. It’d be more out in the open, giving the gun-wielding criminals the advantage, but there was no going back now.

The yells and pounding steps behind him never stopped. The muscles in his legs burned and threatened to cripple him. Logan cursed himself for not practicing cardio more.

As he reached the mouth of the alley, Logan tripped on something, and next his palms were skinning against the harsh surface of concrete to minimize the damage of his fall. On instinct, Logan rolled over onto his back, ready to use his powers on anything that so much as approached him.

But that’s the thing. Nothing happened.

Over the roaring in his ears and his ragged breathing, Logan squinted at the mass of shadows in the alley, unable to make out anything, sight or sound. There were no more yells, no more gun fire.

Any moment now, one of them would jump out to kill him. He couldn’t let his guard down. His body tensed, a live wire ready to spring into action. All of his senses screamed at him that any second now . . .

Any second . . .

Logan cautiously sat up, gaze never straying from the alley. He didn’t dare hope for a second that his pursuers suddenly lost interest and called off the chase. And the longer he sat there, the more he realized the possibility of a surprise attack from them was also unlikely, given their noisy chase. If anything, they would have ran out and shot him dead.

The fact that Logan wasn’t dead right now meant that something must have gotten to them first.

“Hello?” a voice called out from the alley.

Immediately Logan stiffened. His mind buzzed frantically from thought to thought, unable to settle on anything concise. All he could do was wait until something happened.

“Is that you, Logan?” the voice spoke again, coming closer.

The buzzing in his head stopped. That was his name. This person knew his name.

Friend?

Or foe . . .

A figure finally emerged, completely unrecognizable except that his shape was vaguely human. And tall, much too tall-looking from where Logan sat vulnerably on the ground.

He was half a second away from letting his self-preservation win out and throw this person with his powers, but they said carefully, “Hey, it’s me, Patton, remember?” and the world stopped.

“Patton?” Logan blurted.

The jewelry store. The reaper. The bespectacled man who rode in his car, the one with kindness in his eyes that nearly hid the cleverness underneath.

“It’s really me, kiddo,” came Patton’s reassuring reply. “Guess it’s a small world after all.”

Logan barked out a laugh, caught up in both relief and bemusement. He wanted to flop backwards in an exhausted heap, but he had to know. “My pursuers? What about them?”

“The bad guys with the guns? Oh, I gave them a time-out! Firearms are serious business, and they didn’t even have any carrying permits!”

Logan stared at him incredulously. “You took the time to rifle through their pockets to confirm that?”

Patton’s hands flew up to his mouth in a gasp. “Did you just make a pun?”

“What? No, I mean, at least not intentionally.”

“Well shoot, it sure did seem like it.”

Logan really did flop on his back this time. “I just nearly died and you’re partaking in the lowest form of comedy. Unbelievable.”

Patton leaned over him. This close, Logan could discern an apologetic smile. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’m just glad I managed to cut them off in time.” He held out a hand in offer.

Logan took it and was on his feet quicker than he thought he’d be. Patton steadied him. “Your assistance is appreciated. When you say ‘cut them off’, by that you mean . . .?”

“I uh . . . kinda knocked them out? Don’t worry though! They should be okay after a while. It’s just that I heard the gunfire and came running, and when I saw them chasing someone down I knew I had to act fast.”

“Wait, so you just happened to be in the area?” Logan asked, because surely not . . .

“How else would I have known to come help?” Patton responded, eyes bright with a sincerity that Logan didn’t doubt. While Logan was beside himself processing this, Patton busied himself checking Logan over for injuries. He still had hold of his arms and turned his hands over, palms up. “Logan! Your hands, you’re hurt!”

“Just scratches,” Logan murmured absently.

For days on end, Logan had been tracking down the drug dealers, surveying where they operated, finding them to work out of a shabby motel downtown. And here Patton had just been in the right place at the right time?

Of all the odds . . .

“Patton,” Logan cut him off mid-ramble. Patton trailed off and looked at Logan questioningly, worryingly, his eyes warm in the glow of the street lamp.

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” he stated.

“Indeed. We need to get out of here. Did you happen to drive here, by chance?”

Logan had parked too close to the motel. He had intended to make a quick getaway after putting a stop to the drug dealers. Now it would be a risk to return to it in the event that the authorities had been alerted and were already there (which was highly likely, with that much gunfire giving them away). Thankfully, Patton had parked some streets down in the opposite direction.

“But what about your car?” Patton asked him as they walked at a brisk pace.

“I’ll have to come back for it at another time, when things have quieted.” Logan only hoped that it wouldn’t be broken into or stolen until then. “In the meantime, I shall find alternative transportation to get around.”

“If you think that’s best . . .” Patton conceded reluctantly.

They were traversing through a neighborhood of apartment buildings and homes now. A couple of them had lights on inside, but most were silent and the only other sign of life the two saw was a passing truck.

“So what happened back there?” Patton asked, filling in the silence. “Are you really okay, Logan?”

“Rest assured, I am not injured.” Logan winced after saying that. Now that the adrenaline was easing off, he could feel a throbbing in his head. “Mostly, at least. I had planned to confront those criminals in the motel room that they were running drug deals out of. What I did not account for was the motel manager being involved. They snuck up behind me, distracting me enough that one of them threw something at my head, knocking my glasses off. I could not locate them before I was forced to . . . before I initiated a tactical retreat.”

“You mean ran away?”

Logan scowled and coughed. “While not completely inaccurate, I believe the way I phrased it has better connotations.”

“It’s okay. People waving around guns can be scary,” Patton said, and the way he smiled reminded Logan that he was walking beside someone who probably had worse experiences than what he had faced tonight. With his cheery disposition and his deplorable love of puns, Logan had almost forgotten that Patton was a veteran.

“Quite,” Logan agreed. Curiosity lingered, imploring him to ask Patton about his service time, but he refrained. It would be intrusive.

Resisting temptation, he automatically went to straighten his tie only to drop his hands. While his current attire was more suitable for crime-fighting, he would rather be in his usual business-casual wear than a hoodie and jeans.

He cleared his throat again. “Though your assistance has been most useful tonight, I would typically have been fine managing on my own, if not for my lack of glasses.”

“Wowzers, that must be tough. I can’t even imagine not being able to see well enough to get around.”

Logan looked at him in deep confusion. “What are you talking about? We’re the same, or even if you are closer to twenty-twenty than I am, we are still in a similar state.”

Patton just stared at him with a ‘huh?’ expression, completely lost. Surely he was joking.

“Patton, you wear corrective lenses the same as I do. Therefore, it should not be all that hard to imagine yourself in my situation.”

It dawned on him slowly, the dots connecting one by one. Patton stopped walking and blinked at nothing, eyes wide. Then in a flurry of over-dramatic gestures, he laughed and talked fast. “Oh right! Completely forgot there for a sec, so used to wearing my glasses. Yep, can’t see a thing without them!”

Logan said nothing, but he couldn’t shake the distinct notion that Patton was lying. It would be an innocuous thing to lie about, so why would he? And yet, it reminded Logan of that night they first met when Patton denied being a mutant. There was something about his mannerisms, a vague thing that Logan loathed himself for not being able to pin down. He worked best with concrete evidence, but he couldn’t deny that Patton struck a familiar cord in him.

After all, when Logan wasn’t out patrolling the city at night, he pretended to be an ordinary citizen as well.

The two vigilantes made it out intact that night. To be sure that the police located the drug dealers left in the alley, Logan phoned in an anonymous tip. Patton gave him a ride home. More than that, he gave him his number.

“It’s good to have friends at your back, and we make a good team. Don’t ya think?” Patton offered with a wink and a smile.

They weren’t friends. Not really. Allies would be a closer term to what they truly were. And in this line of business, even those could be a liability.

Then again, if he learned anything that night, his own shortcomings could leave him at risk. And he’d rather not experience such a blind panic ever again.

Patton’s number found a place in his contact list. Logan told himself that this would be the alternative to contact lenses.

Weeks went by, crime in the city ensued, and Logan and Patton faced it together more often than not. As Patton had said before, they did indeed make a good team. While Logan had a knack for tactics, Patton was startlingly adept at reading people. More than once Logan had watched him disarm people by words alone.

“Do you have powers of persuasion?” Logan asked at one point.

Patton laughed as if he had told a good joke. “No, I’m just a dad.”

It frustrated Logan. Because for one, Patton had no biological children to speak of. For another, Patton’s true power continued to elude Logan, leaving nothing but inklings for him to trail clumsily after. When he had initially begun crime fighting, it had been out of a strong sense of justice and the ability to do something about it. Nowadays, Logan chased after the mystery Patton presented for him. If he paid attention, he’d notice when Patton slipped up.

When the time came, it wasn’t so much that Patton slipped up.

Logan had been grocery shopping when it happened. He perused the fresh produce, almost absently answering his phone.

“Logan!” Patton said before he had a chance to greet him. It had only been one word, but it was hurried and frantic.

The produce immediately lost all his attention. This was more important. “What’s wrong, Patton?”

“Hartview Bridge, possible bombing, too far away to confirm yet. I’m almost there, where are you?”

A . . . terrorist attack? Patton sounded as if he were running, running straight to the potential terrorist attack. There had been a potential terrorist attack and Logan just stood there, staring at zucchini, wondering where he fit into all this.

Still processing, Logan answered mechanically, “I’m at the grocery, the Miller’s Fresh Foods on Second Street.”

“Good, that’s not too far. Hurry, Logan.”

Logan shook his head, brows furrowed. “Why? What can we do? It’s the middle of the day. Surely the proper authorities are already handling it. We would just out ourselves—”

“Oh my God,” Patton gasped, cutting him off. Logan knew that it wasn’t because of what he had been saying. Ice prickled in his stomach.

“Patton? Patton, what happened?”

“It’s collapsed, the bridge, I see it,” he responded, voice thick with emotion. “Parts are still collapsing, they’re falling in—”

A rush of background noise filtered through. Then the line went dead.

Logan abandoned his shopping cart without a second thought and booked it to his car. He didn’t even put on his seat belt. He floored it through traffic. Any cops that would have pulled him over for speeding were already speeding themselves. But closer to the river where the bridge crossed, a wall of traffic halted any more progress. Logan couldn’t see much from here, but other people were getting out of their vehicles or running down the sidewalk, some away and some towards the bridge. Logan jumped out as well.

The sun was shining bright, not a cloud in the sky, mocking in its ideality. There were people everywhere, many of them pulling out their phones to record the chaos. There would be nowhere to hide here, not like he was used to during his nightly patrols.

But Patton was up there, and if he waited any longer the police would section off the entrance in a security perimeter.

Pedestrians either ducked out of his way or were pushed through. Logan didn’t have time for politeness. As he neared the bridge, he could see where vehicles had crashed into each other, some of them toppled, some on fire, creating a mess of mazes and barriers. Up towards the halfway point, the overarching steel beams had collapsed where the bridge caved in, making the structure look as if a giant hand had smashed down through the center.

Logan didn’t realize he had stopped running to take it all in. He’d never seen such chaos and destruction. Smoke filled the air and people ran past him in various states of injured. He swallowed roughly, forcing himself to stay composed.

Muffled yelling broke through to him. Nearby, a damaged car sat. The driver’s side door was bent from some form of impact (a collision with another vehicle?), and the woman behind the window beat frantically to get his attention.

Logan ran over to it, stumbling over debris. He tried the handle, but the door was too damaged.

He cursed. Now that he was here, there was no choice.

“Lean back!” he yelled to her so that she could hear him. She did as told, too scared to do otherwise.

It would be too risky to mess with the glass. Logan held his hands up, focusing on the seam of metal where it should open. A wave of blue-green energy washed over it. He balled his glowing hand into a fist and yanked with all his might, forcing the door to open, almost tearing it from its hinges. The woman screamed, covering her face with her right arm. The left one was held against her as if hurt.

“Can you walk?” Logan asked, willing away the light from his eyes so as not to scare her further. She looked at him, shakily nodding. “Good. Here—”

He helped her stand, and once she had her feet under her, she gave him a watery smile. “Thank you,” she said before fleeing as fast as she could off the bridge.

Logan picked his way through the wreckage, yelling for Patton when he could but becoming quickly distracted each time his help was needed. A group of people were trying to move rubble off an unconscious man. Logan moved it with his powers. A car exploding sent shrapnel flying. Logan sent a wave of force to push someone down before they could be decapitated, and at the same time he caught a child before they fell through the bridge’s broken railing to the river below. One of the steel arches above groaned and snapped with a horrible shudder. Logan threw up his hands, wrapping the broken beam in light. The weight of it proved to be too much, but he managed to slow its heavy descent enough and maneuver it to fall safely.

One thing after the other, Logan saved whoever he could and prevented further injury when possible. Surprisingly, the first responders neither feared nor stopped him. In fact, they grasped that he was there to help and soon were directing him to where he was needed next. At one point, a firefighter hopped onto the bed of a truck, waving his arms to get his attention.

“Over here! Mutant guy, over here!” he yelled, and Logan followed. He had been gravitating towards the middle of the bridge all this time, where a sizeable chunk had caved in and nothing but empty space lingered. For the first time, Logan got an unobscured view of it.

The road ended in an abrupt jagged edge, pieces of it still crumbling off. On the other side of the gap, there was just as much disorder and people trying to survive.

“LOGAN!” a voice screamed, jarring him out of his shock.

He looked to his right where a city bus had plowed through the railing. The length of it was almost entirely over the edge, the back of it held up only by Patton himself. He gripped it underneath and somehow kept it from tipping over. His biceps bulged from the effort. Patton’s feet dug into the ground, leaving behind warped tracks as he was pulled forward minutely.

Patton’s glasses were cracked and a line of blood seeped down his face from a cut on his temple. His eyes were pleading. “I can’t hold it.”

However strong Patton truly was (and it was now apparent that it was supernatural), he couldn’t pull the bus up.

Surging into action, Logan held up his hands. His telekinesis, while strong enough to lift a dumpster, couldn’t lift something as heavy as a bus. Not alone, that is. With his powers and Patton’s superior strength, they managed to pull the bus backwards, inch by painful inch, until all of its wheels sat on a stable surface. The first responders dove in after that, helping people off the bus and escorting them to safety.

Both he and Patton were panting from their combined effort, hands on knees bent over as they tried to catch their breaths.

“Not a mutant, huh?” Logan gasped out.

Patton sent him a tired glare. “Lo . . . shut your ever-flapping gob smacker.”

Logan snorted, but agreed that now wasn’t really the time to have this conversation. Not with people dying and everyone starting to look to them for answers.

“Oh, would ya look at that bird,” Patton commented, and Logan stood up straight to see a helicopter hovering in the near distance. A news helicopter, filming everything including them.

He groaned. “You do realize that we’ll never be able to return to our regular lives now, don’t you?”

Patton pulled off his glasses and tossed them aside carelessly. He didn’t squint after, proving that he never truly needed them. He stood there proudly, hands on hips and back straight.

“It’s a little scary, isn’t it?” he grinned, bumping shoulders with Logan. “But I don’t regret it. How ‘bout you, partner?”

“I regret many things,” Logan deadpanned, making the other laugh.

“That’s the spirit!” Patton clapped him on the back. “Handle things on this side, okay kiddo? They look like they could use some help over there.”

“What do you . . .” Logan began in confusion before Patton performed a running leap over the broken gap, launching himself high into the air before landing safely on the other side.

Logan adjusted his tie, disgruntled.

“Incredible. He calls me ‘kiddo’ and then proceeds to yeet himself over a broken bridge. I am a grown man, you know.”

He turned away to get back to work.

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