#with the kind of mood he’s been in max is more likely to recite a love poem to every driver they ask him about than feed into the narrative

[stripedstarsblueflags]

my hearts go out to all the dts creators who are STILL going to have to radioactively mutate this season into some sort of vicious rivalry story when the closest they’ve got to work with is liam lawson vs old men

[writtenjewels]

Reader Request: Sleep Talk

Jacob had quite the infectious smile, though it did make Maxwell wonder what the young Assassin could be grinning about. He hoped that it had something to do with the sex last night, but he didn't want to be too egotistical.

“In a good mood, darling?” he asked casually.

“I suppose so. I learned something interesting recently.” The smile was taking on a devilish look; Maxwell's favorite kind. It always promised mischief. “Max, did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

“Oh?” Now he was intrigued. His parents never mentioned that while they were alive. Then again, it could have been a habit Maxwell picked up later in life, and Jacob was the first man he slept with in his life. Not the first he fucked, certainly, but had in his bed and fallen asleep with.

“Want to hear what you said?”

“Absolutely, my dear.” It was difficult to embarrass Maxwell, and Jacob looked so pleased by whatever it was that Maxwell wanted to hear it simply for that reason.

“Well,” Jacob began, trailing fingers along Maxwell's chest, “first I think you were reciting lines from your play. Didn't make a lot of sense. And you kept saying things like 'cross down stage left' and things like that.”

Interesting so far. Too bad Maxwell couldn't remember any of that because it sounded like he was dictating stage directions. Or possibly acting as director for his upcoming play. He motioned for Jacob to continue.

“This is where it gets interesting,” Jacob told him, that devilish smile positively sinful. “Because you said my name. Started saying things like 'harder, Jacob' and 'make sure the rope is tight'. Something you want to tell me?”

Well. That he wasn't expecting. He did have fantasies of Jacob taking control, but what was this about a rope...? Ah, he must have dreamed that Jacob tied him up. Yes, having his wrist bound would spice things up. Maxwell hadn't spoken about these fantasies before because he knew sex between men was still new for his young lover. Apparently his mouth had chosen sleep as the best time to bring it up.

“A sex dream about you, darling. Not one I expect you to fulfill anytime soon.”

“Why not?” Jacob challenged. His fingers were at Maxwell's navel now. He circled the belly button slowly. “I thought we were doing pretty well so far in the sex department.”

“We are,” Maxwell assured him soothingly, caressing along Jacob's jaw. He subtly lifted his hips and Jacob skimmed his hands down to Maxwell's thighs. “Mmm, very well, I would say.”

“So then tell me about the sex dream. I bet it's something I'm capable of doing for you.”

“I never doubted that.” Maxwell pursed his lips in thought. “I don't want to push you, that's all. I want us to progress when you're ready.” Those fingers were moving closer to the inside of his thighs. He trembled, parting his legs just a little. Yes, darling, touch me.

“Now I'm curious,” Jacob persisted. “You might as well tell me or I'm going to think it's something really bad. You  mentioned 'harder' and a rope, so... was I tying you up?” Maxwell said nothing; the look in his eyes was probably enough. “You had a sex dream where I tied you up,” Jacob concluded, “and you liked that?”

“I did.” Jacob said nothing, his eyes dropping away and his fingers stopping what they were doing. Much to Maxwell's disappointment. “But as I said,” he quickly added, “I won't push you until you're ready. Bondage is a bit more intense than what we've done so far.”

“It's not that.” Jacob swallowed. “I just didn't expect you to like that. You have this whole thing about being free, and you're always moving around. But you'd like it if I restrained you?”

“Because it's you, darling,” Maxwell explained. “Normally, no, I don't like the idea of being controlled or restrained. But the thought of you doing it excites me. I clearly wanted it so much I started saying so in my sleep.” Again Jacob was quiet. Maxwell waited and after a moment, Jacob got out of bed and grabbed his trousers. “Darling, what are you doing?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Jacob turned, eyes gleaming and lips still in that devilish smile. “I'm going to look for some rope.”

(Ficlet requests being taken as a thank-you for 150 followers here!)

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH. 8

TW

Mentions of SELF HARM. Please be aware before reading.

“Yeah, in the end Jenna Rosencali decided that she didn't want to invite Meghhan Levei to her birthday party. And that's what started the water balloon war at eight in the morning.” Little Jo said as she scrunched her curls trying to get them to dry somewhat uniformly.

The poor eleven year old had walked into the shop soaked down to the bone. Her cousin had rushed her straight into the break room to have her get dry and change clothes. Even running across the street to Dunkin' and get her favorite breakfast sandwich and donut. Then Jo had come out not even a minute after he left and proceeded to tell you what happened, knowing her cousin probably thought she'd been bullied.

But you were different, you didn't see her as a target at all. She likes to think you see her as a little sister, one who enjoys hanging out with you. As much as she likes to think that she understands you probably just see her as the boss' kid that you have to be nice to. You don't immediately jump to her aid when things look a certain way, like just right now. You waited to hear what she had to say rather than assuming someone was mean to her because she was different. Jo knows her family just wants to protect her but sometimes she just wants them to listen to her like you do.

“It's always Megans. Lemme guess name spelt weird.” like right now, you heard her.

“Yea she's got two 'h's in the middle. Meghhan.” she laughs as you roll your eyes. She tics and yanks on her hair as she's scrunching.

“Ouch” stupid tics.

“I've got some shea moisture in my locker in the break room, want me to grab it for you? It'd help with frizz.” another reason she likes you, it took a few days before you stopped checking on her tics, so long as she didn't have scissors.

Even her family haven't mastered that and they've been dealing with her Tourettes for six years.

“Please.”

She follows you to the back for the hair masque. Letting her take what she needed you place the jar back in your locker. Letting her know she's free to it in emergencies like this or rainy days. It's not like your locker was ever locked with just you and Nate being here. And you're pretty sure Nate dipped into this emergency hair saver as well. You didn't have an extreme need for it here it was just a habit you've kept from living in muggy humidity most your life.

“How's your week been?” Jo asked as she finally settled her hair how she liked it, with help from the masque.

She startles at the frustrated noise you make as you both leave the break room.

“Bad?” she questions.

“Sort of...there's...this..it's...”

Shit, you hadn't thought about your response. With all the stress this week you just reacted naturally to the question. Who can blame you, what with your stalker being on your mind all week, minimal amount of sleep, plus the weird interaction you'd had with Brian at the start of it. Then yesterday you topped off your stress with a healthy portion of more frustration driving up to the lodge after work to see if Barclay would like some help with cooking or even shopping for the picnic. Stubborn man sent you off with a hearty laugh after getting you opinion on the vegetarian/vegan main course, eggplant teriyaki or tofu and pineapple chipotle skewers.

“Oooooooh a boy.~” she might not be your actual sister...but you're starting to understand the Cain Instinct.

“Half right I guess.” Jo starts bouncing waiting to hear more, she's probably expecting some juicy relationship drama. Sucks for her that you are probably the world's most boring twenty-four year old, and you're content with that.

“Barclay's just frustrating sometimes.”

“Wait! You and Barcl-”

“Nope.” you interrupt, “I asked him if he needed help with any cooking for the picnic and he brushed me off.” You know he didn't mean anything by it and from what everyone said he could more than handle cooking for the amount of people just fine on his own. You'd just thought it'd be a nice gesture to offer, though you did hope he'd accept. He'd been pretty quick to turn you down, had you been any one else you may have even been insulted by the speed of the rejection.

“That's what's bothering you?” Jo's face held a very confused expression on it. It was understandable since not a lot actually bothered you, especially something as small as this. However, it's not like you could tell an eleven year old 'Yea I'm kinda being stalked right now and this week has me looking at every shadow and movement differently but fortunately or...unfortunately no one seems to notice and just brush it off as my hallucinations.'

Yup, totally not the thing you confide to an eleven year old about. Especially now that you have your plan all figured out. You've planned to let the stalker continue stalking you, picking up clues where ever they may leave them. They're bound to slip up at least once after a month of following you through your routines. Should be able to find evidence to have Big Jo help you in no time.

“Well no...I've just had a lot on my mind...”

“We can talk about it.” kid's got a kind heart, but this isn't her problem and you won't put it on her.

“Nah, it's fine.”

There's a pause as silence settles over the shop front. Jeez how long does it take to get an order from Dunkin'? Jo is staring at you as if she can see every part of your being. Breaking open your soul so all your secrets are laid out on display for her. You really don't like it, it feels like being under the microscope and it's making your skin get that familiar itch under it.

“Stop staring.” thankfully she does as you ask.

“...you said it's fine...are you going to be ok though?” Damn Montessori schools, actually allowing children to pick up on emotions and meanings behind linguistics.

You have to pause when you go to respond with the polite 'Yea I'll be good'...because you hadn't given it any real thought. You've made up this best case scenario plan. A plan that requires time and a lot of it. But you never gave thought to the fact that you might not have much time at all. What if the situation was more dire than you thought...what if this wasn't simply a stalker but a serial killer and you happen to fit his MO. A cult who was looking for the perfect sacrifice for their god. And while those thoughts could also be far fetched so is the scenario that you've built up for this past week.

Even if this was a simple stalking case, who's to say it wouldn't escalate? You have an old steel baseball bat in the hall closet and you could use it in case things got dicey. But that would require it being on your person a lot more than it actually is. Maybe you could make it look like you took up going to batting cages...are there even any batting cages in Kepler?

'Fucking focus...stop the rambling. Am I going to be ok?' you think to yourself despite the roaring chaos of your mind. Even with all the possibilities being thrown around you don't have an answer. Maybe that's really the answer after all if you can't get even one 'yes' from any of the possibilities...maybe you wouldn't be ok after all. Maybe you weren't ok.

“I don't want to talk anymore.” It's said so plainly, in such a dull monotone that it throws Jo off.

Jo's not quite used to this but she understands from the two times she's seen it that sometimes you just shut down under pressure like this. This topic, whatever it is, must really bother you. She wishes there was something she could do to make you feel better, but you can be really volatile in this state. Easily going from shutdown mode to meltdown at the simplest action.

With a jolt joined by a 'yip-yup' she remembers something that might put you in a better mood. And if it doesn't she still needs to give it to you so you have it. Rushing off to the back as fast as her legs will take her, having the agility only years of dance can provide.

Nate comes back into the shop as she disappears to the back.

“Did you know the Dunkin' across the street does parties?” What? To the man's credit he had no reaction to your blank stare and lack of response. He clocked the eye contact aversion right away.

You've gone into shutdown mode. Sometimes you just go quiet and that's fine, you're like a robot in this state and if he sets you up with a task that should take all day you have it finished in a few hours.

Once when he asked you just said you needed to not talk at time and that the tasks were good ways to process thoughts. Nate was reasonably creeped out by this but you aren't hurting anyone so c'est la vie.

“Nate?” Jo's calls out from down the hall.

“Yea, I'm back. Brought food.” he set the bag on the counter and handed you the shitty hash rounds you like for some reason.

'It's only cuz they're bad, if they were good they wouldn't be worth eating.' you think as you pop one into your mouth.

Jo comes twirling back into the room. In a broad sweep of motion kicks her foot off the floor to do one final dramatic twirl that ends in a bow with the same leg pointed toward the ceiling. All to present to you and Nate two tickets. Tickets to what?

“Another dance rehearsal?”

“Nope actual thing this time.” she supplies passing you each a ticket.

It's such a formal looking ticket for a recital that only goes up to age twelve max. Most dancers will still be in elementary school. But they want you to treat this like the Russian Ballet. Oh it even says it's a black tie event, completely different from the rehearsals you've been too.

You aren't sure if you have anything black tie status. You'll have to make a trip further out of your normal bounds and go thrifting for an outfit. Luckily it won't be happening for another month, that gives you plenty of time to try finding something in your size that you also like. It also gets you out of Kepler and away from your stalker for a few hours. Hopefully. But there's a chance your stalker will follow you on your outings away from Kepler so you'd need to keep an eye out for familiar faces on the trip.

“YN...will you come?” Jo's looking up at you with her big puppy eyes. Unfair, even if you wanted to decline she pulled puppy eyes. What heartless monster would refuse puppy eyes.

You give a slow nod along with a smile that doesn't reach your cheeks let alone your eyes. And while Jo's a little disappointed with the lack of enthusiasm she's still excited for you to come to her recital. Nate nudges her into her personal reading nook making up a lie that you hadn't finished your task sheet today so he'd watch over her while you finished working. You'd only had vacuuming and organizing the shelves that got mussed up the previous day, needless to say you were done nearly as soon as you started. When he came back to you he had a whole stack of papers for books that would need to be input into the system. You got to spend the rest of the day on the dinosaur computer in the backroom.

The quiet was nice.

After you'd gotten off work you still weren't out of your funk. Frustrated with the idea of going home and not actually being alone with a stalker prowling around. You decided to go to the one place that can calm even your worst of moods. The stream.

There's a reason why you've never been able to do longer than a thirty minute hike through the Monongahela and that's the stream. Every time you've said you'd go further into the forest you're always drawn back into that spot along the bank right under the red spruce. It has the best smell of all the trees, you think.

Just thinking about it has you having a better outlook on the day. You hardly spare the RV a glance as you go along your usual route.

You've said it once you'll say it again for emphasis. You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. Like that cool rock right there. Picking it up to inspect it closer you note the color is a deep dark brown that it almost looks black even obsidian, it reminds you of something but you can't quite place it. It's very smooth and oddly enough fits perfectly in your hand given it's larger size.

You think you'll keep it, this is a good rock. Idly rubbing the smooth surface of the stone as you trek through your trail, you can feel the tension start to ease off of you. You found a very nice worry stone, it works amazingly well. Hopefully no one lost it and it is just a naturally occurring stone that you happened on by chance. As much as you like it you'd hate to think of the chance of someone loosing something they need.

All thoughts cease once you hear the babble of the stream. As if on auto pilot you move with a fluidity through the brush and low hanging tree branches to your spot. Right under the spruce. Just as you did the last week and every other trip before you remove your shoes and socks placing them further behind you, so you can dip your feet into the cool stream. It's very refreshing on this hot summer's day.

Lying down with your feet still in the stream you close your eyes and just loose yourself to nature. All your cares and worries getting washed away by the steady moving stream. It's strange to be here without the buzzing in the back of your head. Oh great speak of the devil and he shall appear. It's fine, after all you're used to this, it's easy to ignore.

However, what isn't easy to ignore is the snapping of a branch, from in front of you just across the stream, how cliche. Cliches aside the sound rockets you back into a sitting position as you look for the source. And you find it...find him standing just on the other side of the stream emerging from the brush on that side. Toby. And he's mask less, not a weird choice considering he probably wouldn't have run into anyone had you not decided to come out for a hike.

Great you can feel your chances at friendship slipping through your grasp just like the water slips down the bend. He's gonna think you're weird when you don't respond to him verbally. Or worse he'll think you were rude for not wanting to talk to him and then never want to talk to you again in retaliation. Whatever relaxation had once been over you quickly dissipates and you are left anxious and with a tickle at the base of your skull.

Toby hasn't said anything yet. Not even a raised hand in a half wave. You also don't see Connor anywhere. Is Toby okay right now? Fuck even with that kind of thought you can't manage to move your lips let alone actually utter a sound, even ones that wouldn't ever be counted as words by anyone who was currently living. So you take the first move, literally.

Raising the hand without the stone in a mock form of a greeting. Toby doesn't seem to quite register it or you but he copies the movement. Oh he must be dissociating either that or in a catatonic state similar to the one you'd been in last weekend. That's probably how he knew he just needed to sit you down and keep and eye on you. You could do that for him...if that's what he needed.

You wave your hand beckoning Toby to come over to your side of the stream. Toby tilts his head to the side before his arms jolt up, going across his body. You assume it was a tic because he didn't keep the pose long. Tilting your head back at him, as if to say 'You coming over?', you pat the spot next to you.

Seems he registered that because he backed up a few steps before taking a running leap to cross the stream. He lands with more grace than you'd given the lanky guy credit for, normally someone with such long limbs would be a lot more clumsy. Not to mention that was a pretty wide jump, and Toby only has a few inches on you, you could probably barely cover the width of the stream. But he not only cleared it but he gave himself a good six inches of coverage away from the edge. You just hope he didn't roll or over exert anything by doing that. With his insensitivity to pain he wouldn't feel it and if he wasn't here mentally right now it's likely he wouldn't even remember he made a jump like that in the first place.

When he just stands in place staring at you, you get a bit uneasy. What's up with everyone staring at you today? You get really uncomfortable with people's stares normally, and now you're overstimulated and stressed it's not a great combination. But you can rationalize Toby is having a moment of his own. And since he helped you the best that he could you'll do the same for him, pushing aside your own issues for the moment. After all what are friends for.

He's standing within arms reach. You don't even have to get up as you gently grab his hand and give a few light tugs. Trying your best to get across that he should sit down with you. This would probably be a lot easier if you could speak right now. Did he speak to you when you were like this?

Toby thankfully gets the message and drops into a criss-cross position next to you. You start to retract your hand, now that the need for contact is over, when Toby's rough hand closes around it suddenly. Looking to Toby he's just staring straight ahead and not at you. His eyes aren't frantic or moving in any way, like yours sometimes do when you're following a hallucination. Physical closeness must help him through this kind of thing.

As gross as the feeling normally would be for you it isn't so bad right now. It seems Toby's CIPA also affects his body's temperature and his ability to sweat. Where there's usually the feeling of burning and clammy moisture coming off of another person, Toby is just tepid and dry. If anything it feels as if you're being held by a leather baseball glove.

Toby's hands are very rough, especially his palms, maybe you should let him burrow some of the goat milk lotion Dia gave you a few weeks ago. It smells pretty good and it only takes a little bit to soften your skin back up. But as you look closer at his hands you can see the spots roughest are around his nail beds. Someone has a biting problem, maybe he needs an oral stim toy. That would keep his flesh out of his mouth, and stop him from injuring himself...hopefully. There's still a chance he'd bite through his tongue without realizing, honestly you're a little surprised that hasn't happened yet.

You had completely forgotten about the stone in your hand until you went to grab at Toby's hand that still held yours in a firm grip. Seeing the dark brown rock again you remembered what it reminded you of, Toby's eyes. They were the same shade as the rock, that's funny...anecdotally at least. This rock helped you maybe it would help calm him down some. Worth a shot.

Since your hand closest to him is preoccupied you have to reach across his body to nudge the rock to his hand. He spares it a single glance before covering it with his other hand. Mission partially accomplished you guess. Now you're just sitting here, with Toby catatonic, by the edge of the water bank. Pulling your feet from the stream you mirror Toby's pose, you'll likely be here a while.

While normally you'd love to just loose your self to the sounds surrounding the stream, in the presence of another person you're too jittery to enjoy that. If only you had something to fidget with... You wonder what Toby's reaction would be if you just... Toby turns his head to watch you when he feels a gentle smaller hand on his own. Dark eyes watching intensely as you pull his hand into your lap. Turning it over so his palm is facing up, before you start tracing patterns into his palm lines and flexing his fingers individually. He watches for a moment before turning back to his original point.

Playing with his hand you noticed a few more things about Toby. From his chipped black nail polish, a look you personally think not enough guys go for even though it makes them look more attractive and approachable. To the single string paracord medical bracelet he's wearing, metal tag simply stating 'TOURETTE'S SYNDROME'. And a little further down you see scars, a few are crescent shapes easily identified as Toby's own nails. But most are straight lines, even a few jagged cuts, that run up and along his forearm.

'Tobais...what on Earth happened to you?' just as the thought rings through your mind you feel a sudden weight on your shoulder.

Toby is resting on your shoulder with his eyes close. You can tell he's just resting them by the lack of movement behind the eyelids.  With his head being on your shoulder you can smell him, not in a creepy way but he's just so close that his scent waifs your way. He smells like fresh dirt...it isn't a bad smell. It reminds you of gardening but on an overcast day. It hadn't rained today so how does he smell like it?

Moving your attention back to his hands, and away from how nice Toby smells, you catch sight of the scars again and bite your lip. Not wanting to dwell on the scars and their implications any longer. You curl and uncurl his fingers and start a rhythmic motion of curling them individually.

'You poor sweet boy.' is the only thought you can focus on. Even though the scars may be old and those wounds long healed. Toby at one point made them and it's very apparent that he is still not in the best way mentally. Once the two of you are friends, you'll do your best to be there for him. Like you are right now...you really hope it helps.

Toby didn't make even the slightest movement until the sky had begun to bleed its deep oranges across the horizon. He pulls his hand out of your grasp. And when you try to retrieve it to keep up you activity he softly pushes your hands back to you. Guess he's done for now.

With as late as it is, you'd like to go home. And Toby seems more aware of the things going on. But it isn't until you hear a call for him behind you two and he reacts looking in the direction of the call, that you decide he's safe enough for you to leave here.

Without much hesitancy you push off of the ground and stand. Toby isn't looking at you. Taking that as a cue you head back towards the entrance of the forest. Before you leave the clearing however, you look back to Toby and notice a dark colored stone resting nicely in his palm as he idly brushes a finger across it's surface.

Yea he's going to be fine.

[mysticqueen-bee]

Gwevin headcanons(reboot edition pt 2)

So I have mixed in so far little tidbits that I like to think about along with the bits of content that the show has provided along with unofficial teen & older domestic life drabbles to add here - Gwen had known how precious finding that asmr CD was to Kevin (because of his plaguing troubles in his home life previously and most failed father figures to fill that gap and treat him properly) so she stocked up and bought a bunch of blank discs to burn for that specific one properly while he had temporarily taken refuge while sleeping in the rustbucket (just winging it on this), just in case the main one gets scratches & stopped playing so Kevin can have backups to ensure he gets proper sleep and doesn't end up going almost a week without rest again - He was anxious about the main secret poem that he had made about gwen bringing him some light in the darker moments that he had to grow up with (having a drunkard neglectful father/guardian etc. and a mother that worked long hours to support the family which left him lonesome for a long while) being spoken before he could properly finish it along with the previous poem reflecting that excruciating inner pain he's dealt with so far to that point so he wanted to channel other forms of his poetry until the other is completed, he usually recites mini haiku's and other drabble related things to express himself around her which gives him some stress relief for the most part (but he tries to make sure Ben is distracted with some activity when he's in the mood to pull out his book and have some fun) - Sometimes Ben has joined in to watch some lucky girl with the two but most of the time they caught up watching most of the airing shows with some more privacy and admire what the episodes will entail, Kevin's most favorite parts during the event is the pure joy on Gwen's face and the mini conversations that reflect the subject at hand (in the future they meet the actor herself and he makes sure the complete box sets and merchandise will be well kept in fine condition into their upcoming adulthood and beyond) - When Gwen had shown off her transformation to the lucky girl attire that appeared in "Cyber Slammers" to Kev he was speechless for at least a few minutes in complete awe before saying that it brought out the cuteness in her (despite that she was still adorkably cute to him for a long while), he did try to hide his apparent blush though when she thanked him for his compliment - Although her robo cat suit was short lived and he had been dealing with getting revenge on FK's lies & constant belittlement towards him at the time he did think later on that she looked cute in it, once in their teen years and Phil recreated the suit again to accommodate for her current age & physical build he was stunned & was a blushing mess (he blames his hormones for making him more awkward around her than he already was to begin with) and says she looks beautiful (even if she's beautiful to him with being herself regardless) - A few years later both make sure they have their privacy set for a special moment they've wanted to experience together - Kevin was upset that he was turned into a baby when he was trying to confess his feelings to Gwen (though aside from his antics he enjoyed the brief moments of her holding him despite than after the events & before changing back that the cramped feeling of sharing room with little Ben & Max had gotten on his nerves which resulted in the shoving shown later), later on he was able to tell her how he feels about her - They were going to have a little leisure drive courtesy of glitch though Gwen had a moment of uneasiness (due to the events of Buggy Out) even if she honestly didn't want to have it brought up when things are much different now & what he was getting through during then, which results for them walking for a while and her telling him why she felt uneasy at first and felt guilty about such but he told her that it was alright for him to be aware of it so it helps him know what bugs her so she can feel comforted. After hugging one another Glitch catches up to both of them and escorts them back to the RV, during the ride he non verbally consoles her which prompted a soft smile which he also did the same. - During their early adulthood and her being pregnant with Devlin at the time they both watched some reruns of older Lucky Girl episodes and enjoyed their quality time together, while Kevin was getting some groceries due to her craving she had slept and had a nightmare that she had lost him to an accident. She was uneasy for a while until he had returned home and reassured her that he'll make sure nothing bad would happen to him for both their sakes. - When it comes to which aliens that Gwen is fond of she would say she likes them all since they come from someone that she's grown to adore whom adores her back, she enjoys how sweet and cuddly Kev's Bashmouth is and loves to give him hugs since it is a good stress reliever for the both of them - Once he finishes his special poem he thinks up of going to a nice restaurant that she's been mentioning for a while, while they were ordering her food he goes and recites the entire thing to her, once he reaches near the end he proceeds to bend on one knee & finish off with a proposal as the ring she's liked when she skimmed a ring store in the past (which he earned a lot of money over time for this to be possible) popped from the end of the poem page & into his hand. She looked into his eyes overjoyed with the marriage proposal that she accepted, for once the two didn't mind an applause from the other patrons surrounding them at the restaurant - The couple had spent some time with her family (mostly a lot after their twins Krystal & Kaleb were born) & spent time having play dates with Ben's kids so they can have some interaction outside of home for a while - On a date to a theme park based on Adrenaland the two see a place that has plushes based on Kevin's aliens (since people recognized what the group had done of their heroic efforts) and Kevin decided to win a plush for her (which he won & received Bashmouth and gave it to her as a gift), she enjoyed the gift he gave as they kissed and shared an embrace. - Gwen & Kevin took time to enjoy a snow day and decided to do some activities while having the time of their lives, they grinned at one another while making snow angels - While her hair was starting to grow out she wanted to keep them from getting tangles & knots so after dong her hair she asked Kevin to give her some braids (he's been learning about doing it for a while), he obliges her and makes a few braids with his own flair - Being fans of Lucky Girl they like to think they are the characters in the story (their children in the future follow suit on the role play), since Gwen would be lucky girl Kevin would be whomever would be the mamoru/darien of that show and be proud to be by his sweetheart's side - Both are proud & doting parents to their children, Gwen shows her abilities & powers to them along with their lucky girl stuff while Kevin tells his kids how proud he is of them & lets them play with the array of alien plushes he owned (Devlin chose Quadsmack, Kaleb chose Bashmouth & because Krystal kind of wanted to choose him before her baby twin did she compromised and chose both Dark Matter and Bootleg) he doesn't mind in the slightest if his little girl wants to have both plushes - While putting on some music they decided to enjoy slow dancing together, while they both gazed lovingly at one another (even if they've done it before they definitely enjoy doing it again) - The picture that was taken during his time with the Tennyson's at Adrenaland Jr. before they were banned from the park was one of his most cherished pictures that he laminated in a frame that was a part of the decor of his and Gwen's home - Since it would be a while before someone would take the time and give Kevin some swimming lessons in safer waters the he and Gwen spent some time together wading through the water with his giraffe floatie - Although Kevin had thought he got the highest score in the newest Sumo Slammers phone game, Gwen had schooled him at the game sometime later in her free time. He was flabbergasted at first but he was impressed that she took the crown in such a short time. - At a point of time he playfully teased Gwen once calling her 'Carrot top' he did it to be endearing (aside from his usual princess nickname he gives her) he tries to not tease her as much as he teases her cousin, she knows and appreciates it but tells him to tone it down to a few times when the mood strikes - Before Gwen was his girlfriend,fiance and wife along with Ben being his brother in law they were his first and most treasured best friends that he ever had, even if he had a tsundere like attitude towards it and that his relationship with the two was a bit rocky at first and he loves every moment that he doesn't feel alone in the world - If he went back to human form when he was still a baby he would've clung to Gwen because he trusts her, though he would probably grumble and growl at Ben sometimes much to Gwen's displeasure - A few years later the Tennysons & co would pay a visit to Simon and the others and would note about if Kevin was Gwen's boyfriend considering how he acts around her, both their faces had never been more red that day though he sees her as his girlfriend until they made it official later - Based on a twitter post during Digital Quality in a AU sense Kevin & the Tennysons had combined their efforts through a song to fight against Lord Decibel - They both care for another if ones gets ill (but take proper precautions as well before and during it) and appreciate each other for doing that as they grow closer - When either is down they are there to cheer each other up and comfort one another (if Gwen was feeling down and he was Bashmouth he would be right by her side and just be his cute doggo self which brings a smile to her face, even if she would be crying/having a sad expression on her face) - If Gwen wanted to be able to see things and some people were too tall for her to get a good glimpse at something Kevin would change into Dark matter and place her on his shoulders for her and him to get a better look (or another alien if she needed higher elevation) - While watching a load of monster/horror movies they decided to binge, Gwen notices some similarities Kevin's aliens had in correlation to those movies which to her teetered it being between either coincidence or being intentional in some sense - Since she liked his free styled rap in what rhymes with omnitrix they went ahead and did a duet for the fun of it and had a great time - Kevin enjoyed their campfire stories and could imagine to interact with Gwen during those segments of the stories, his favorite would be when she gives him her galaxy brownies to eat -Gwen may make quips about Kevin’s mullet but she does like the way he wings with it compared to others that make it look like really messy bad hair

[planetsam]

Hello there, can we get something with Michael healing Alex with his newly found powers that he supposedly got from his mother which he was oblivious about?

“She’ll be dead soon.”

Alex looks down at the alien. His mouth is dry. She’s not the worst one here, not by a long shot. Actually she’s one of the better ones. Better breeding, his father explained. She’s impassive in the face of her death. She gave her name as Mara. But Alex knows they aren’t supposed to call them by their names. It humanizes them and they are not human.

“This could be a unique opportunity,” he says, “we could confirm your theory of how their power transfers work.” His father considers this for a moment and then nods.

“Go get him.”

They are not human is a mantra Alex has to recite over and over again, despite everything he knows. These monsters are the reason he doesn’t have a mother. That so many in Roswell don’t. Though he wraps that knowledge around himself like a shield, some visits are harder than others. Most of the cells are simple, they have good protocols. But the Big Four are separated. They are special. Alex needs two guards to approach the one he wants to take and go through several biometric scans to get in front of his door. As a kid, Alex thought this was where the monsters lived. It wasn’t until he was older that he realized the monsters were his age.

Oh and he was hopelessly attracted to one of them.

Michael is sitting on his bed thumbing through a book. Alex’s eyes move to his hand. Using them to experiment on one another is protocol, but he will go to his grave with the memory of what happened to Michael’s hand burned on the insides of his eyelids. Max, probably the strongest of them, still tries to break free of his restraints whenever Alex comes near Michael. Even now he can feel his gaze on him. He ignores it in favor of tapping on the glass. Michael’s head flies up and he looks around before his eyes land on Alex. Something bright and hopeful cracks across his face like lightening before it vanishes. Something far more defensive and cocky pulls his face into a macho grin.

“Is my favorite Manes here to take me out for a walk?” He asks.

“Hands against the wall,” Alex says and nods to the guards.

He can’t chain him up by himself anymore and his leg is only one of the reasons. They secure Michael and fit him with a mask that keeps him from mouthing off. The others love him and Alex wishes he didn’t understand that so well. Michael is charismatic and loud, he’s everything this carefully maintained hellhole is not. The guards let him know they have secured him. Michael gives him a questioning look and Alex meets his gaze impassively. Michael is also dangerously smart. He’s got more escape attempts than the rest of them combined. He recognizes how serious this is instantly and the swagger folds in. They lead him out and there’s a sharp bang on the other cell. Max glares at him and his eyes soften as he looks at Michael. Some kind of silent exchange happens in a quick glance. Then they move on.

The mask doesn’t restrict Michael’s breathing and Alex hears him inhale sharply the moment he sees her. Alex tries not to think about what is going to happen or if Michael is going to blame him. Instead he focuses on getting him into the cell. Michael takes a step towards her and the guard snaps the chain. It’s a cruel reminder of where they are. Michael turns towards the wall and holds himself still only so they will undo his restraints. He looks at Alex who looks at the guards. Now he can pull rank. He jerks his head and they walk out to go and get his father probably.

“You have a minute, maybe,” he says.

“Fuck you,” Michael bites at him, his voice equally low before he turns, “mom.”

“Oh my sweet boy,” she opens her arms and Michael runs to her, wrapping his arms around her, “look how big you are.”

“That’s just ‘cause your sitting down,” he says. She laughs and runs her fingers through his curls, “they don’t shave my head anymore.”

“I can see that,” she says, “you’re behaving?”

“Yes mom,” He tells her.

“Liar,” She says and he laughs, “come here” she says and Michael kneels in front of her, “you look so much like your father,” she says, cupping his cheek. Michael leans into her touch. It’s easy to see that she’s dying. But Michael doesn’t want to acknowledge it, “Alex,” he turns as she looks at him, “I need you to keep him out of trouble,” she says, “love him.”

“Mom?” Michael’s voice sounds confused and it’s a knife in Alex’s gut.

“Please,” She says. Alex feels something in his head and tries to direct that he will to it, “good,” she looks at Michael and raises her hand.

It’s something they do, Alex doesn’t try to stop them even if the scientists aren’t there. He won’t do that. They will just have to work off the tapes. Michael looks at her hand as it starts to glow and his features twist. A mournful sound escapes him.

“Mom—“

“It’s alright,” She says, “I love you. So much.”

Michael shakes his head but slowly raises his hand. They hold their hands together before Maras face cracks into a wide smile that makes her look so much younger and more alive than she is. Alex can tell something is happening as they hold gazes, tears streaming down their cheeks. She slots her fingers through his and a full body shudder seems to go through Michael. Something happens and Michael drops his hand, winding up with his face in her lap. He sobs and Alex can hear the footfalls. Something is hollow in Maras face as she looks at him, running her hands though Michael’s hair. He steps forward, grasping Michael’s shoulders. Michael turns towards him, tears streaming down his face.

“Come on,” He says.

“What? No,” he says but Alex fights his attempt to go back over her, “no,” he repeats.

“Michael,” Alex looks at him steadily, “they’re coming.”

Michael stares at the door and Alex instantly changes his grip. They come in to the sight of him holding Michael back. The mood instantly changes as Michael starts towards them. Alex can’t hold him back if he wants to get to them, but he’s going to try. One of the scientists looks over at Mara and immediately sounds an alarm. The air seems to go out of the room as Michael’s anger turns to horror.

“Get the crash cart,” one says, “prisoner, prisoner can you hear us?”

“Mom,” Michael’s voice is soft and horrified, then comes out louder, “mom!”

Alex turns him against the wall and pins his hands as gently as he can. He braces Michael with his weight and his body. Michael struggles at first but then he tries to see her. Under the guise of adjusting his grip Alex pushes harder and leans into him, putting their faces closer together. He barely knows Mara but if she wants him to protect her son, the first thing he can do is make sure he doesn’t have to watch her body jump with electricity or the doctors stop trying. One of them pulls a sheet over her out of respect and his father pulls it down. Aliens don’t deserve respect.

There’s nothing human about them.

Michael barely makes it back to the cell, dignity out the window in the face of what has just happened. Even Alex has trouble keeping his face blank. He collapses when the restraints are undone and his knee cracks against the floor with a sound Alex feels in his bones. He knows the risks but he goes over and grips Michael’s arm, trying to help him to his feet. Michael staggers up and shoves him off, staggering over to the bed and collapsing in front of it. It’s a terrible compromise but Alex imagines its the best he’ll get. To his surprise both guards have their backs to him, giving him a moment of privacy. The three of them leave Michael to his grief.

On the way out he looks at Max’s cell, but he’s not there.

“Where is he?” He asks. Instantly he thinks of the uncovered body being wheeled through the halls, “We need to go on lockdown. Now!”

It’s the last thing he says before the explosion.

Alex opens his eyes back in Baghdad, back in the desert and back in the helicopter that took him out. He opens them to impossible darkness and then finally to the hell he’s in. Dimly he thinks Max leveled the prison. Impressive. Then he realizes the prison got leveled while he was on the second floor. His next thought is if Michael is okay. When he tries to move, everything goes white hot and impossibly heavy. He has to wait a moment and then he can try again.

“Michael!”

“Iz? Isobel!”

“Oh thank god. Where’s Max? Did you see him? I think he was downstairs.”

“Go look for him. I’ll meet you in five. I gotta make sure Manes isn’t walking out of here.”

Alex hopes he doesn’t mean him, but if he does that’s probably not a bad thing. In the military he was taught to think of something good, something he wanted to protect and to fight like it was on the line. He instantly thought of Michael. But protecting Michael in his head has always been easier than doing it for real. He’s sure he’ll be judged for it very soon. Michael made it out. That’s what matters. He just wish he could have made it out with his mom. When he opens his eyes he can just make Michael out, silhouetted against the fiery wreckage. Michael twists one way, then the other, then he stomps and the shockwave goes through everything. Alex is pretty sure he screams or he tries to. But once the debris holding him down are gone, it’s like removing the plug and there’s blood everywhere.

“Shit, no,” Michael comes running over to him, dropping down. His hands go all over like he doesn’t know where to touch him. Alex imagines it doesn’t matter. Michael turns and looks at him, horror on his face. Somewhat like with his mom but Alex knows that’s self indulgent of him. He can have it though right now, “Alex.”

It’s so strange to hear his name on Michael’s lips again.

“I’m sorry,” he says around the blood, “I’m so sorry.”

Michael’s features harden. That’s a look he deserves. Of course it’s still beautiful, everything on Michael always has been. Michael postures up on his knees and cracks his knuckles. Alex remembers that day. He wonders if Max’s healing can help the inside wounds Michael’s got. He hopes so. If the universe is kind enough to grant him a dying wish, he would wish for that. Heedless of the blood, Michael shoves up his shirt and puts his hand on his sternum. He seems unsure of what to do with the other, but he settles for putting it on his prosthetic. Alex feels the warmth and for a moment, he thinks maybe it’s just the shock. But the warmth builds and turns hot. Scalding. Alex feels himself knitting back together, like someone is rewinding him to the moment before the prison explosion. Michael rips his hands back and Alex feels his prosthetic come back together in the same instant.

He’s alive.

He shoves himself up. His mind says he has to spit out the blood but his mouth is empty. His uniform is pristine. There’s no evidence of him dying and he knows how close he was. Michael holds his gaze, something pained and relieved in his eyes. Alex instantly thinks of Mara and her kindness. Of all the power transfer theories. Apparently they were right. Michael sways but moves back and gets to his feet when Alex makes the mistake of reaching for him. Alex pulls back and gets to his own feet, still unable to take his eyes off of him.

“You should have let me die,” he says.

“Call it payback,” Michael says, “I know you always tried with me.”

“Not enough,” he says.

“No,” Michael agrees, “but my mom made you promise. I know you take those seriously,” Alex looks down and tries not to think about being young and stupid and thinking he could change things because he loved Michael enough. The world doesn’t work like that, “so it’s time to play up.” Max and Isobel come towards them, Max is angry and isobel is confused but goes to anger easily. Neither of them scares him as much as Michael when he takes a step forward, “Get us out of here.”

He could say no. He could refuse and never see them again. He’s been coming to this place and seeing them in one way or another for most of his life. His father is possibly dead, though he doubts it. But he could leave all of this behind or let them kill him. He doesn’t deserve to die among the innocent, he knows that. They know it too. Isobel starts forward and Michael warns her off before looking back at Alex. In his most secret dreams, he’s thought about this moment in a hundred different ways but never like this. He tucks his shirt in straightens what he can.

“Find whatever clean uniforms you can,” He says, “this will be easier if you don’t look like escaped prisoners. I’ll find us a car.”

[villainqueen]

The Marriage of Heaven and Hell - Chapter 6

V X Fem!Reader fanfiction, set after the events of Devil may Cry 5.

Prologue /  Chapter 1 /  Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

Ao3 [Link]

Chapter 6

Lives in eternity's sun rise

  August 1st 14:20 pm

"Where do you want to search next?" V asked you as he stepped back into the corridor, where you already waited for him to join you.

"Tis could be anywhere. Pardon my impudence to lead thee on such a search. I did not intent to waste thine precious time." you answered him, at the exact moment both of you could hear loud rumbling from the other side of the hallway. It took only a few seconds for you to notice Griffon flying around the corner straight towards you.

"Are you done scouting? Have you found anything?"

"No time for that V, just run!" Griffon crowd in a panic. The reason for that was close behind him. He was followed by a demon. It had the upper body of a beautiful woman however, everything downwards her bellybutton was a completely different story. A whole pack of dogs grew out of her, loud growling with foam coming from their snouts.

"(Y/N), move!" V commanded and dragged you after him. Both of you began to run in the opposite direction and Griffon soon caught up to you; "That is Scylla, not an enemy that is easy to deal with. So, let's get outta here!"

"Oh, how wonderful! Looks like I found the one, before Abigor did, Master will be pleased!" giggled the demon with a voice of a young girl. "And there is such a handsome man too. Why don't you come to me so we can play~?"

"Yo Shakespeare, she is talkin' to ya! But word of advice here, doubt ya both have the same understanding when talkin' about playin', okay, try avoid that!"

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind!" V answered soberly. This was not the time for joking around, Scylla was a famous demon and that also meant a dangerous one. A fight against her could be lethal, especially without being able to summon Nightmare yet. V had you by his side as well, but it was hard to tell how strong you actually were, you showed some magic attack before but you had no weapon with you. Was it enough to help him defeat such an imposing demon? Much more time to think about a strategy was not granted as the corridor came to an end you soon approached the big staircase that would lead down to the main hall.

"Got you!" Scylla laughed, now close enough behind you that you could smell the pack of dogs.

"Sir V, I propose we jump!" you yelled as the Scylla tried to tackle both of you. V without a second thought jumped over the railing, where Griffon picked him up. This caused the Scylla to crush down back to the ground floor. You also jumped and materialized projectiles made from pure light to fire towards the falling Scylla. One floor wasn't a big fall, so you safely landed back on your feet, with V coming down, right next to you.

"Looks like we have to fight this demon." V said, not amused by that prospect.

"Owie, that hurt! That is not the game I wanted to play. I'll make you pay for that!" the Scylla cried out as she got back on her several paws. This was the command for you to get in position as V summoned Shadow to join him while he recited: "The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse, how he shall take his prey."

Nevertheless, before the fight could really start, you could hear more noises coming from behind you as both of you had only seconds to avoid getting hit by a demon that broke through the wall behind you. But this was not a deliberate attack by a demon, as you figured out quickly, since Nero came through the hole in the wall right after it, to join you in the main hall. It was the devil hunter who threw the demon through the wall almost hitting you both in the process.

"Hey kiddo, be more careful where ya throw demons in the future. Imagine you hit V with that, he would've been crushed. I mean look at him, basically everything could break his bones!" Griffon lectured Nero even though it sounded more like the demon bird was throwing shade at his own master. However, both enemy demons were not dead yet and in a much less playful mood now.

"So, three against two, at least the odds are our favor." V remarked just to be scolded by Griffon; "Didn't ya mean five? Hey big kitty, did ya hear that, we do the dirty work and never get any credit. I say we form a union!"

Nero, who just catched up to you, handed you the spear he found and said: "Think that is yours. You can go all out now, I know what you are, there is no point in hiding it anymore!"  With a shocked expression on your face you received your weapon back. A silent "M-my thanks…" was all you could muster. How did he figured out your true identity? Was it bluff or perhaps someone told him? Impossible, the only one who knew of it was long gone... Anyhow, you had no time to think it over, as your enemies started to attack all of you enraged.

  August 1st 15:00 pm

Loud chattering from outside of his office awoke Dante from his nap. He sat at his desk, feet placed on the table and a dirty magazine covering his face. His plan was to collect his thoughts about his current investigation, but the intimidation of clerics made him tired. His planned rest should end abruptly, as the door of his office flew open and the loud talking now took place right in front of him.

"Really, prices for cabs nowadays are extortionate!" a woman complains. This was Lady a fellow Devil hunter and old friend of Dante, known as "The Walking Arsenal", due to her usage of lots of different guns, with her favorite; her rocket launcher Kalina Ann.

"Would you have rather taken a bus? Do you know what kind of people ride a bus? I’ve known demons who smell better!" answered the other person. This was Trish, a beautiful woman with the looks of Dante's mother, and a demon herself.

"Look who his finally back, my two favorite girls!" Dante murmured with no intention of removing the magazine of his face.

"Talking about bad smell…" remarked Trish while Lady just commented with an unemotional; "Oh, you're back from hell, I see." before they returned to their conversation.

"I've been through hell and no one seems to be surprised I'm back. I don't really know how I should deal with such cold heartedness!" Dante now taking the magazine off his face and started to fake sob. Which had Trish just rolling her eyes; "Dante how often did you get trapped in hell now? Four times, at least? Don't pretend like it's a big deal for you!"

"It's not like you would die or anything. You are like, like a cockroach in that regard!" Lady chimed in, leaving a compliment that sounded more like an insult in Dante's ears

"Why do you always team up against me? By the way, what were you doing with the suitcases and shopping bags?" Dante pointed now at the luggage both women were carrying into the office. Dante knew now something was up, just by the look on their faces.

"You know Dante, after we both got trapped inside some demons by YOUR BROTHER, we thought we deserve some time relaxing, you know…" Lady began speaking up.

"And you mean what, by it?"

“We just went on a wellness vacation after the last job, to a wonderful spa, you would have loved it there! The seafood buffet was to die for" Trish continued.

"And of course, we both needed some new clothes to go with it, so we went spending a bit." spoke Lady again this time in a tiny voice as if she could avoid him hearing the truth this way.

"So, just to get it right, while I'm stuck in hell you both went on vacation?" after Dante expressed his disbelief, he had a sudden revelation. He knew Trish had a habit for spending and had an expensive taste but Lady? She was one of the stingiest people he knew, why would she spend so much money, unless of course…. "Please tell me I didn't pay for any of that stuff!" Silence. Both women avoided his eye contact. Till Lady started again; "You know we were in a pretty shitty position because of what your brother did to us…"

"No, forget it, you ain't gonna get out of it that easy, guilt tripping me won't work this time!"

"Stop complaining Dante, we got you something too!" said Trish as she pulled the gaudiest looking Hawaiian shirt out of one of her shopping bags. Dante wanted to stay angry however, he kind of liked the souvenir as it fitted his taste surprisingly well, so he decided to go easy on them. Not that there was much he could do now anyway. After all he was the one owning Lady money most of the time and Trish didn't really care for what he had to say anyway, like usual.

"Okay forget it! But there is something I might need you both for. A new job but a now I guess an unpaid one."

"Unpaid work? Did the latest trip to the demon world changed you so much, you became a good Samaritan now, Dante?" Trish joked not willing to do much without payment but after their excessive maxing out of Dante's credit card, she knew that she owned him at least that.

"Nah, not really, especially not since we might have to kick some holy asses. I'll fill you in to all the details later but first I've got to call Nero. The kid is currently doing something for me, together with V and there is something I found out he might need to know."

"Wait Dante, did you say V? What's going on?" Trish asked while taking a seat on his desk.

"Later, just let me make a call first!"

  August 1st 14:30 PM

Once you hold your spear Sunrise in your hands for a moment, a melancholy feeling overwhelmed you. It's been so long since you felt anything that was related to your home and even through it was impossible for you to ever return, it was a welcomed feeling, despite being a somewhat sad one. Your attention went back to the current situation, now that Nero declared to know what you truly are, there was little reason to hold back and with Sunrise in your hand, you had the means to go all out. The times imprisoned in the human world might took a toll on you, but it should suffice to assist in fighting those enemies.

“Demons, I seek not your deaths! Hurry back to your world and your lives will be spared, otherwise this will end here!” you calmly declared as you got ready for the fight.

"Spare them and miss out on giving them a good beating? I don't think so!" Nero laughed; he was not one to give demons so obviously evil the gift of mercy.

"Little girl, don't be scared, I'll only eat the guys, you'll be spared for now, Master Caim wants you alive!" Abigor answered as he moved his olive colored long limps in a convulsive fashion. Abigor was a truly disgusting demons as he resembled the human form in a weird twisted way, with limbs longer than they should be which led him to move on all fours. His head was hairless, and only had the big mouth with visible sharp tooth and little black eyes that only consisted of pupils.

"If this is thou wishest, I will grant thee this much decency."

"Quit ya chatting, Princess! Let's get to the meat and potatoes here!" crowed Griffon and started his assault on the Scylla. No one wasted any more time, so Griffon and Shadow went to deal several attacks at the demons, under the supervision of V himself. Nero, who had his fun beating up Abigor before, was quick to pick up where he left and tried to slice it limps right off with his sword. Abigor had over plans and went back into his black hole just to come out behind him for a surprise attack.

"Oh child, it won't be that easy!" it laughed.

You decided to join the fight and went in close to fight Scylla. You had not as much raw strength Nero had, but you were fast and agile, perfect to use a spear and your technique was proof that you knew how to handle it. With precise thrusts and quick changes of stances you gave Scylla a taste of what you’re capable of and together with V’s familiars you stood your ground.

"This is no fun! Stupid animals! Stupid bitch! I want to play with those handsome men, not you!" Scylla cried out as the dogs charged at you three. They couldn't reach Griffon that far in the air, yet Shadow was surrounded and in a less ideal position.

"Griffon, attack from above and I'll put some of them down!" V said as he appeared near Shadow and pierced his cane in a dog head which had a weird lilac color to it, just to bring a distant between them once again by almost teleporting a few feet back.

"Thanks V, and here I was just about to challenge her to a boxing match!" his demon familiar scoffed sarcastically. And it didn't take much for V to notice that the demons would just grow back the dog heads out of her body once one was killed.

"(Y/N) we should try a different approach. This is going nowhere!"  V said to you as you summoned a light circle around yourself, that held the dogs at a distant as it would cut them as soon as came near you.

"I see, I welcome any advice you offer." you answered him as you dealt with the rabies infected dog pack. This made V think for a short moment as he observed. The dogs would grow back so how could they kill of the Scylla for good. And then it struck him, if they could attack the human shaped body at the top, it might work. Nevertheless, it would take a much stronger attack than he could offer, without Nightmare he didn't have enough raw power. Griffon and Shadow already struggled with the sheer number of dogs at the lower end of the demon.

"We should try to attack her upper body."

"So be it!" you answered V and tried to focus your attack at the woman on top. Yet, even with your fast speed, each time you came close to her a new dog would grow shielding her from your stabbing. If this was to continue you and V, with his familiars, would end up exhausted and an easy target to be finished off. Raw strength could be what you needed right at this moment. But without Nero, who was currently occupied with Abigor behind you, pummeling it through the air, you couldn’t rely on his strength to win this fight and V had no means to fill this spot either.

"Hehehe, you little bitch can't even scratch me, my puppies will tear you apart!" Scylla mocked you, which lead you to make a decision. You turned to V and spoke in an apologetic tone: "I must apologize for what thine eyes will witness, Sir V. Yet please bear with it for I have no other option left." Now you're ready to pull out your trump card. Nero already knew about you and there was no point in risking defeat now, just to keep a secret that was already discovered. With that said, you activated your own trigger, much like Nero's devil trigger you saw before, yet a devil you were not. Your skin now had a light grey color to it and your body was almost naked. On, your now taller body, you had adornments that covered all intimate areas and other places like shoulders or the sides of your body as if it would function as armor, while it still being a part of the stone like skin. Around your hand and feet, you had rings of pure light and your face was motionless. Eyes bright but without any movement, a mouth that would not open even as you spoke. However, the most outstanding feature was the six white wings that came out of your back. This form had an eerie feeling to it, not monstrous but definitively not human. Beautiful and unsettling at the same time.

V stared at you, he had a vast knowledge of demons, but you were non he could recognize. Your form did somewhat resemble one of what humans would imagine an angel to actual look like. However, much more foreign than just a human with a pair of wings.

"Sir V, pray assist me and together we shall strike down this foe!" you said with your voice distorted. This pulled V right out of his thoughts and back to the task at hand. He nodded in agreement and so you jumped and stayed in the air, as your wings now gave you the ability to fly. As Shadow and Griffon, launched another assault, distracting most of the dogs and making a path for your attack. With force your spear came down onto the main body of the Scylla, piercing through two more dog heads she grew to protect herself from the attack. This didn't work out for her and you impaled the dogs and human body with one strike.

"Impossible! Master will punish you for that!" the Scylla cried out with her last breath as you reached your hand inside her, pulling out her soul.

“You've finally shown yourself! Seems like Scylla was at least of some use!" Abigor snickered as he watched this fellow demon die.

"Hey ugly shitface, better pay attention!" said Nero using the momentum to cut off one of Abigor's long limps. It screamed out in agony as he holds its bleeding stomp there once was its arm. But before Nero could finish it off, it opened another portal to escape the situation, avoiding death.

"Next time you will be my meal, mark my words!" the demon hissed at Nero before he fled the scene.

"What a coward!" Nero growled in return and put his sword onto his back. The fight was over but it always annoyed Nero to leave without a clear-cut win.

"Yo missy, not that I wanna be noisy or anything but care to explain what’s going' on with ya? This new look freaks me out!" Griffon asked as he took a seat on your shoulder, while you went down from the fading corpse of the Scylla.

"I, this is also a form of mine..." you started to explain as you tried to avoid the eyes of the two men in fear of seeing disgust or worse on their faces.

"Guess that means, it's true what these letters claimed." Nero interrupted you by pulling out the papers from is pocket and handed them V while continuing: "You're an angel for real!"

[islndgurl777]

Bowl of Stars Chapter 1

Length: ~2400

Tags: Canon Compliant with S1, canon pairings

A/N: Title from Mrs. Potters Lullaby by Counting Crows. Big thanks to @tempest-nova for feedback help with Rosa’s voice. I’m going to try to do a chapter a week, one for each episode, but I make no promises. This is kind of an experiment on my part... On AO3 here.

///

Chapter 1- Pilot

It’s been ten years since Liz Ortecho left Roswell after the death of her sister, Rosa. She’s been driving for hours back to a town that hates her family, so she’s not in the greatest mood when she gets stopped by the police at a checkpoint on her way into town. She sees a border patrol van on the side of the road and goes off on the officer who stops her.

“So you let the Joneses and the Jenners through, but you're gonna stop the Latina and tell me this is just a DWI checkpoint?” She’s furious, digging through her bag without turning to look at the officer.

“Ma’am,” he says, and his calm tone spurs her on more.

“I know Roswell is well past the hundred-mile border zone, vato,” she spits out, still digging in her bag.

“Ma’am,” the officer says again, this time sounding a little exasperated.

Liz is undeterred. “So I will have the ACLU so far up your ass, you'll be reciting the Tenth Circuit Venzor-Castillo verdict in your sleep.” She finds her passport and holds it up in victory as she turns back to the window, and then all her venomous outrage dies out.

“Liz,” Max Evans says, face stunned.

“Max,” she replies, equally as stunned.

“Oooh, you’re in it now, Elizabeth,” Rosa sing-songs from the seat next to her.

/

Rosa’s been dead almost ten years now. While dead, she’s spent more time with her sister and father and secret family than she ever did while she was living. It’s funny, people say you don’t truly appreciate someone until they’re gone. Well, Rosa can attest to the fact that the opposite is true as well: you don’t truly appreciate your family until you’re dead and they can’t hear you teasing them about what a dumbass they’re acting like in front of their high school crush.

/

Rosa watches her sister’s awkward interaction with Max, cackling from the passenger seat. As they leave him behind and head into town, she leans over the center console, propping her head in her hand, and says, “I’ve seen you work other guys! What is it about Max Evans that turns you into a dumb kid again?”

Liz shakes her head, muttering under her breath about what an idiot she’d been as she pulls in behind the diner. “Rosa, you said he was in the rearview mirror, and for ten years he was. But there’s always been something about Max Evans,” she says, leaning forward to rest her head on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, well, it’s the same for him with you, Liz.” Her hand hovers just over Liz’s cheek, a wish left unfulfilled as her sister exits the car to head into the diner.

/

She’s there dancing with her sister when Max shows up to see her with the flimsy excuse of telling her about her running light being out. It’s pathetic, really, and she fake gags over how obvious they’re both being.

She’s there, standing between the two of them and teasing her sister for her terribly obvious flirting skills, when the shots ring out and take out the front window. She’s there when a bullet tears through her sister’s chest, and when she falls to the floor and starts bleeding out.

She’s there when Max Evans blows out every light in the restaurant to heal Liz and bring her back to life.

/

Rosa wants to stay with Liz, she does, but she knows her sister is going to be fine. Max, on the other hand, looks like he’s going to pass out even as he runs after the asshole who would have killed her sister.

The idiot savior collapses next to a dumpster, moaning and groaning , calling out to Isobel, from the sounds of it. She kneels down next to him, watching the street diligently, despite the fact that there’s nothing she could do to help him if someone were to try to hurt him right now. “Thank you,” she says softly, hands hovering near his arm; she wants to help him up or comfort him, but she can do neither.

Instead, she waits with him until Isobel shows up, panicking. “Max, oh my God, what? How did this happen?” she asks as she unscrews the cap of a bottle of nail polish remover.

Her coat flashes open and Rosa sees she’s wearing a sexy negligee, for playtime with her husband. She growls and steps back to start pacing next to them while Isobel continues to force acetone down Max’s throat.

/

Rosa’s been dead more than half as long as she was alive in the first place. A lot of that time she spent with her family, watching them move on and live their lives without her. Attending classes with her siblings got boring after a while; the sciences were not her forte, and despite having all the time in the world to learn, she was not enthusiastic about it. Ditto to spending a lot of time at her father’s diner. There’s only so many times you can listen to the same racist assholes order the same alien-themed meals before you lose what’s left of your dead mind. Double ditto to spending time at the sheriff’s station, or with anyone at the Caulfield prison. She might have been an addict and an alcoholic, but even she knew what they were doing there was wrong.

She didn’t want to spend every hour of every day with her family, so sometimes she chose to spend her undead time with her murderer. That’s how she recognizes Isobel’s attire.

/

She catches up with Liz as she’s having Kyle scan her for a head wound, or a bullet. 

“You won’t find either,” she sighs out, standing over Kyle’s shoulder as he looks over the scans. “Physically, she’s fine.”

Minutes later, Kyle shakes his head at Liz and says, “Physically, you’re fine.” Rosa throws her hands up behind him and starts pacing around them in a circle. “Do you want me to give you a recommendation for a counselor or therapist in town? Surviving a shooting can be--”

Liz shakes her head and waves her hand at him. “No, no, no. I’m fine. Or, I will be, after I get some sleep.” She lets out a shaky breath and shrugs, looking up at him with her eyebrows drawn together. “It’s just been...a really crappy night.”

He nods and rubs a hand down her arm, stepping closer to say softly, “I’m sorry that was your welcome home.”

Rosa shouts incoherently and steps between them, a hand hovering over each of their chests. “Oh my god, please don’t. I can’t watch my siblings kiss, it’s too twisted.”

They don’t kiss, but it’s too close for Rosa’s comfort. Instead, Liz heads home to get some sleep, and Rosa does a quick check in with other certain persons of interest.

/

Max is just getting home, stripping off his holster and uniform to fall face first into his bed. She notices his color is slightly better than it had been earlier and hopes a few hours’ rest will be enough to get him through the rest of the day.

Isobel is just arriving home as well, and fuming about something, but she pastes an almost convincing grin on her face to kiss Noah goodbye. He leaves for work and she heads upstairs to work in her home office.

Maria’s still sleeping, having spent a late night working at the bar most likely. Mimi’s sitting at the window, drinking a cup of tea and looking out at the mountains. She twitches just a little when Rosa nears her, but that’s it.

Her father is sitting on the edge of his bed, head buried in his hands. His shoulders shake and her heart aches for him. Tears spring to her eyes and dissolve into nothing before they can streak down her cheeks. She sits next to him until he’s steady enough to head downstairs for the lunch rush.

By that time, Michael’s in his trailer, pencil hovering over the schematics he’s currently working on, though he seems to be zoning out rather than doing any actual work. She hears something going on outside his trailer and, curious, she steps through his door into the midday sun.

There are several Air Force personnel packing up some vehicles outside, Jesse and Alex Manes among them, saving her two more trips before she loops back to Liz. Jesse’s focus is split between the trailer and Alex, his cold eyes shifting between the two with such malice Rosa shivers. She knows he’s got nothing concrete on Michael or the others, but she also knows his hate runs deeper than a family legacy.

Rosa moves toward Alex, eyes sweeping over him quickly. He seems okay, except for the slight clench of his jaw and the uncharacteristically cold look in his eyes. “Oh, honey,” she sighs, hands coming up to hover near his face. “You knew this wasn’t going to be easy.” Alex’s eyes flicker to the trailer just once before he climbs into one of the vehicles and they all drive away.

/

Liz bats her eyes and invokes Rosa’s name to scam a DNA sample from Max, and while she appreciates her sister’s acting abilities, she does not appreciate being called mentally ill. 

“What voices are you talking about, Liz? The only voices I ever heard were live, present ones, and you can definitely claim the same at this point!”

/

Sometimes it feels like Maria knows she’s there. She’ll move to make space for Rosa next to her at the bar, or her eyes will flicker over to her and away again just as quickly. Rosa knows she doesn’t know she’s doing it in the moment, but when she does notice, she never corrects herself. It’s like she’s aware there’s a reason she should be standing just so, and while she may not know what that reason is, she’s going with it. 

It’s almost enough to make Rosa feel alive again, feel seen. She stands with her hands hovering near each of their shoulders while her two best friends take shots to remember her.

/

Rosa goes home screaming when Liz and Kyle get into his car together. 

She lays out on her bed and stares at the ceiling. “What did I do to deserve this?”

/

Later, when Liz is pulling Max’s DNA from his straw and preparing the slide Rosa stands next to her desk and says sadly, “This is your last chance, Liz. You won’t be able to unswallow the red pill.”

She sighs when Liz looks down at the slide.

/

Rosa’s picked up most of the story over the years, through vague conversations overheard between the aliens and stalking the Project Shepherd bunker with Jim. But she’s never heard about how they were found and how they got separated. “Oh, Mikey,” she says quietly, passing a hand through one of the glowing pods.

Max says, “I know it sounds crazy.” And it might, if both Ortecho women weren’t intimately aware of what the aliens had the power to do.

Liz shakes her head a little. “I spent the last two days thinking that I needed to have myself committed.”

“I think you’re over-exaggerating a bit,” Rosa interjects, moving to another pod.

“This is...better than that,” Liz finishes.

“You say that now,” Rosa says at the last pod. “Just wait until you find out what happened to me.”

/

She leaves when Max places his hand over her sister’s heart because there are some moments even the dead shouldn’t witness.

/

Her brother is an idiot. 

“You’re such an idiot,” she yells at Kyle, hands clenched at her sides while Jesse Manes shows him around the Project Shepherd bunker. “You have no idea what he’s done, and you’re just going around endangering Liz’s life like this?”

“Everything I'm about to show you, Kyle, everything I tell you is fact,” Jesse says.

Rosa screams in frustrated rage, and she’s never wished more that she still had a corporeal form so she could strangle that man herself. 

/

Liz and Maria are out on the dance floor, jamming out to her song, while Max watches from the sidelines with such a lovelorn expression she thinks it should be trademarked. She sees Isobel clock him from the other side of the room and start making her way over.

Isobel sidles up next to him. “So you told her,” she says. Rosa can barely hear her from Max’s other side.

Max nods a little, a small smile on his face. “I did. She wasn't scared. She wasn't angry. She didn't run away. We can trust her.”

Rosa shrugs and says, “Unless she figures out what happened to me, and then you’re fucked my friend.”

Isobel scoffs and shakes her head. “So I’m guessing you didn’t tell her the truth about…”

Max cuts her off. “She can never know about that. She can never know what happened to Rosa.”

Rosa rolls her eyes and says, “You don’t even know the truth about what happened to me, so I wouldn’t be too concerned.”

Isobel leaves and Rosa follows her, glancing back to see Liz pull Max onto the dance floor. As they walk away from the center of the action, Isobel pulls her phone out of her dress pocket to check her texts. There’s just one, from Noah, which reads, “Running late. Meet you at the back door in ten? <3 <3 <3”

Isobel smiles and starts texting back. Rosa rolls her eyes and scoffs, folding her arms across her chest. “That asshole can run straight off a cliff,” she says. “I live for the day you find out what he’s done to you and follow through with that threat to melt a brain. Figuratively speaking,” she shrugs. She sighs and looks closely at Isobel’s face, heart hurting for the woman and all she’s gone through. With everything that’s happened in the last few days, it feels like that day might come sooner than she’d assumed. The secret’s finally out, and Rosa hopes that means justice will be served sooner rather than later.

[noblehigh]

*  BRIAN’S DEMONOLOGY .

                   excerpt from  brian’s powers and abilities page:

❝ first off, here’s something pertaining to how i portray him as a demon and everything. he is able to track. if you tell him of a place, if you show him a picture, if you’re important enough to him that he’s tethered to you – he can concentrate and find you / the place. hence why he knows where to shimmer to in certain situations. (  he is loosely based off of the demons / magical beings set in the charmed universe. i add in my own things from here and there, and just from my personal beliefs. )

please note:  with the way i play brian, a vampire is a type of low-level demon ( which he was before ). unfortunate for him, when he died, the demon part took him over. there are still bits and pieces of him that stick with him as a sign of what he once was. he still sometimes craves blood. brian is slow to grow into his powers, to develop, and it would take decades to make his way up to something that’s generally feared. he is still considered a low level demon.  (  it’s important to know that he is not necessarily  weak, it just depends on who he is up against  ).  regarding his ‘mortality’, he is immortal.. in a way. his bodies can be destroyed, but he is an entity. it would take him a long time to get back into another body, even if it’s one he’s been in before he died, and it would be painful. along those lines, when he changes forms in his regular life, it’s also painful. it doesn’t take him long, maybe an hour, plus some time for the body to settle. don’t ask where he keeps the bodies, i have no idea. that’s something he won’t tell. so, in summary, his body can die like a human’s would, but he is still alive. still fuckin’ hurts, though.  ❞

                   the process of changing bodies / what it’s like when a body dies:

physically, he is like a human. he uses human bodies ; ones that are deceased, ones that no longer can be used.  he doesn’t kill for his vessels. his bodies age, they scar  (  he is able to heal somewhat more quickly than your average human ; when he heals, it starts out bright red, kind of like it’s illuminated by a flashlight beneath his skin, and then small flames fill the wound. once the flames start, it should only take an hour or two  max  for it to properly heal. he can speed this process up with raw flames from his hand if he wishes. usually just for emergencies ), and eventually, they die.

the process for routinely switching back and forth between living bodies isn’t necessarily pleasant. leaving his present body takes focus, and it kind of feels like someone’s removing a big thorn from his chest. a thorn that makes it really hard to breathe. the more often he’s done it, the more he’s gotten used to the pain ; most of the time it’s fairly mediocre. he’s never had anyone with him when he’s changed bodies, it’s always something he’s done on his own. he bears the cross himself on that one, but that’s not to say he wouldn’t let in someone he loves and trusts to help him through it at some point. the logical reason for switching bodies is to give the others time to rest ; too much exposure to his entity can be damaging to the health of the body ; faster deterioration. the personal reason for switching bodies is mostly found in the way his mood shifts. there are still some traits left of the person before who occupied the body before him.  in one he may be more sympathetic, in another he’s ruthless, and in another his hunger to feed his addictions may be more powerful. it’s why sometimes he just doesn’t feel like himself. those are the days that bother him the most. 

                                         brian’s demon species:

i use this loosely just because i kind of like brian to be a free-range chicken... demon.. -- in the way that i want to leave it open to interpretation, and that includes my own interpretation. in regards to the parts of him that are based off of charmed, he is a type of demon called a noxon demon.  (  read more about them by clicking here.  )

excerpt from charmed wiki:    ❝  viciously tempered, these low-level minions are often used as shock-troops or assassins by more powerful demons. use the following potion vanquish. mix the following herbs: hemlock, wolvesbane, sumac petals and Imp powder. ❞

it’s also important to know that brian can be vanquished back to the underworld ( hell ). this will send back his entity, not harm his body. he will be gone for a fairly long time ( a week or so ), but will be able to return back to his body/earth. mainly it can be used in a fight for advantage, but it must be used with the potion. so: throw potion, recite spell. there are actually two spells ( you only need to use the potion with the vanquishing one ), the first is used as a means of finding/revealing a demon. below are the two spells ( the to find a demon and to banish a noxon demon spells have been lightly edited by me ).

                                                 ❝ to find a demon ❞  spell:

                                         ancient powers, we summon thee,                                                we with the power of thee,                                               to seek your help in finding,                                               the demon who is in hiding. 

                                         ❝ to banish a noxon demon ❞  spell:

                                           demon of fire, demon of pain,                                        i banish you to whence you came!

                                        brian’s powers:

incineration ; status is active: ( active but not at maximum ). incineration is a rare and powerful ability that, like the name suggests, incinerates someone or something. brian is considered a lower-level demon. his powers have grown stronger over the past few months / year and a half, especially since being in hell ( and he’s learned to control them better ). if he thinks it, if he channels it, he can set things on fire simply with his mind. this also happens when he’s very frustrated / angry, usually involuntarily. fireballs ; status is active: the ability to create and throw balls made out of fire. beings with the power of pyrokinesis can create their version of fireballs, however, they are not as powerful. brian does have pyrokinesis ( will be the next bulletin ). his fireballs are not strong enough to take out extremely powerful beings, but they’re good enough to take out another lower-level demon such as himself. they also can be fatal to humans ( depends on the severity of the one he conjures ).  pyrokinesis ; status is active: pyrokinesis is the ability to create and manipulate fire at will. it can be channeled through the mind or hands. brian almost always uses his hands. fire often grows in his palms, it can even channel up his arms ; his entire arm isn’t on fire, it’s just channels of flames crossing over one another, kind of like veins. he can manipulate it to take on the figure of an animal, a woman in the palm of his hand, ect. thermokinesis ; status is active: ( active but not at maximum ). thermokinesis is the ability to mentally control and manipulate heat, encompassing the power and ability to boil and super heat things to scalding temperatures. this kind of goes along with the other two. he can boil water, even blood, any kind of liquid ; he can set simple things on fire with his mind, but mostly needs his hands to do anything else. an example of this is if someone was freezing, he could warm them back up to a normal temperature. sometimes he uses this for comfort, along with small flames. fire throwing ; status is active: fire throwing is the powerful and deadly ability to project jets of flame from the hands, capable of completely immolating even high-level demons. however, brian’s is not that strong. it’s important to emphasize that brian is powerful, but he is definitely not unstoppable. he’s a lower-level demon. his powers aren’t as strong as others. this one kind of goes along with fire balls. he can conjure them in his palm, throw them. with throwing, a never ending stream comes out ( it drains a lot of energy, however, and can become painful, very harmful to the human body ). shimmering ; status is active: shimmering is an energy-based method of transportation that allows the users to appear and disappear from a desired location. when teleporting, the user shimmers, distorting the space around them momentarily ( click here for an example ). this is a common power among demons. shimmering also allows demons to travel anywhere in the world, as well as different planes or timelines, such as time loops. (  brian has not yet discovered the ability to go to different dimensions, and he might not ever discover it. right now, he is just able to get from place. )

[purrincess-chat]

Crackmas Day 3: Ships

So, you know how I said this was going to be a shorter fic for day 3 and I was hoping to catch up? Well, what I meant was it’s longer, and I’m still behind~ You all know what I am at this point. I’m extra af, so this one is like kinda angsty then super fluffy and then super cracky, so enjoy! I completely blame @queenkubdel and the minor character discord for all of this.

FF | AO3

Day 3: Ships

Max worked diligently for the next several weeks to fix Alix’s watch under Markov’s watchful care. He still wasn’t certain she would develop emotions like Markov, and if she did, would she even like him? The thought unnerved him a little, but he still had to try. Markov was his best friend, and he’d do anything to help. Even face Alix’ wrath if he ruined her watch.

“Okay, tighten this screw, and…the interactive AI should work,” Max mumbled busily to himself.

When the last screw was in place, Max replaced the backing on the watch and took a deep breath. Now came the moment of truth. If it worked, then Markov would finally have a companion of his own, but if it didn’t…

“Is she ready?” Markov appeared over Max’s shoulder, startling him a little.

“Yes, I just finished, but before we try her out, I think we should-”

“Oh, Max! I’m so excited! How do I look?” Markov asked nervously, hearts flashing in his eyes.

“Uh, fine, but listen, Markov-”

“Go on, Max! Open her,” He urged, but Max hesitated with a sigh.

“Markov, I know you’re excited, but we have to be prepared for the probability that-”

“For the probability that what, Max?” A question mark flashed on his screen, and Max winced.

“For…when she falls in love with you.” Max smiled encouragingly, and Markov perked up. “Let’s give her a test, shall we?”

Max clicked open the watch, and the small woman lit up the dimly lit room. She blinked up at them, lowering the clock in her hands and tilting her head to one-side curiously.

“Hello,” Max waved, and she trained her eyes on him. “It’s okay; we’re friendly. My name is Max, and this is Markov.”

“Hello, Miss,” Markov greeted shyly.

“Hello,” Her voice was soft and melodic, gentle, and Markov’s eyes lit up with hearts.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions to make sure your program is working properly,” Max said, pushing his glasses up with his index finger.

“Okay.” She nodded.

“What time is it?”

“The time in Paris, France is 18:47PM,” She recited.

“Very good, and who is the mayor of Paris?”

“Andre Bourgeois, father of Chloe Bourgeois. Ex-husband of Audrey Bourgeois, son of-”

“Okay, very good. May have to tweak that a little…” Max tapped his chin. “How do you feel?”

“How do I feel?” Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Correct,” Markov said.

“I do not understand the meaning of this question. Can you explain it to me?”

“Feeling is…how you are emotionally. Are you happy, sad, afraid, that sort of stuff,” Max explained, gesticulating for emphasis.

“I am not certain I understand.”

“This is what I was afraid of,” Max sighed, rubbing his temple. “Markov, I don’t know if she can develop emotions like you did.”

“Of course she can! We just have to keep working. I didn’t develop my emotions until the more advanced stages of prototyping. She’ll get there,” Markov insisted, sounding more confident than Max felt.

“You’re right, Markov. Thank you.” Max smiled then pursed his lips slyly. “Why don’t you help me monitor her emotional progress? Talk to her every day to see if she’s showing signs of emotional development.”

“I’d be happy to, Max!” Markov said excitedly.

“Perfect, now let’s get to work!”

x x x

Despite Max’s uncertainty, Markov never seemed to worry that Lady Kubdel, as they’d come to call her, would never develop her own emotions. Truthfully, it was cute to watch him interact with her every morning.

“Good morning, m’lady,” Markov said with a cheerful lilt.

“Good morning, Markov,” She replied with the same flatness.

“How are you today?”

“I am not certain.” This was her response most mornings when asked that same question, and Max was running out of parts to tinker with.

“So, how exactly do you plan to give her emotions?” Alix asked one afternoon, spinning around in Max’s desk chair while Max moped on his bed.

“I honestly don’t know. I’ve given her a modified hard-drive from Markov’s design, but she’s not developing them on her own.” Max rested his cheek on his arm over his pillow.

“She will,” Markov said with that same surety as always.

“Markov, I know you want her to, but we have to think realistically. Perhaps it’s time we pull the plug on this and try something new. I can build you a companion from scratch,” Max offered, but Markov slumped sadly.

“But, Max! You can’t give up!”

Max winced, burying his face in his pillow. Markov was counting on him, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. He was really in a tight spot, and the last thing he wanted was to let Markov down.

“I’ll try one more time, Markov, but after this, I think we need to move on,” He said decisively, and Markov deflated, electronic tears running down his face.

“Just let me know when I can have my watch back,” Alix said, standing up and donning her hat. “See you tomorrow, Max.”

“Later, Alix,” Max mumbled into his pillow as she left, and he overheard her greeting Kim down the hall. “I’m not really in the mood today, Kim.”

“The mood for what?” Kim asked, flopping over half-way on top of him on the bed. “What’s got you all down?”

“Max hasn’t been able to program Lady Kubdel to have emotions, and now he wants to give up.” Markov pouted, clicking the watch open.

“Good evening, Markov,” She said formally.

“Hello, m’lady,” Markov replied glumly.

“Max, are you really gonna give up just like that?” Kim asked, shifting on to his side. “That’s not very like you.”

“I’ve tried everything, Kim! I don’t know what else to do,” He whined.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Why don’t I help you?” Max lifted his head to cock a skeptical brow at him. “I will pass you tools and cheer you on and not touch anything important.”

“Okay.” Max relented after a minute of thought, sitting up. “It’s gonna be a long night. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“I can tell it’s important to you and Markov, so I’m all in.” Kim nodded with a cheery smile, and Max felt a bit of the weight lifting from his shoulders.

“Thanks, Kim.”

Max spent hours flipping through manuals, reviewing his own designs for Markov, dismantling and tweaking the watch while Kim and Markov offered their assistance in any way they could. Each trial only showed that his work wasn’t over yet, and each time he resumed his tinkering with equal vigor.

“Pass me the phillip’s head,” Max requested as Kim wiped his forehead. “No.”

Kim stopped short, hand hovering over a tiny tool, and he slowly moved to pick-up another one, but Max denied that as well. “Okay, for the record, I don’t actually know which one that is, so-”

“Pointy one.”

“Got it!” Kim said, passing it with a sheepish grin.

Kim massaged his shoulders while he worked, fetching him water when asked and offering words of encouragement each time he failed. After several hours, though, he dozed off in Max’s bed, and Markov powered down for the night, plugging himself in to charge in the corner while Max pressed on.

“Hello, Max,” Lady Kubdel said when he clicked her open again.

“How are you feeling?” He asked groggily.

“I do not comprehend this question.” Max leaned his head back with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. Exhaustion wore on his brain, and he was officially out of ideas.

He glanced at his friend, silently recharging in the corner and sighed. “I’m sorry, Markov.”

“Are you giving up on your goal?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Yeah,” He said dejectedly. “I am. It’s time I gave you back to Alix.”

“Very well. I will miss you and Markov.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna miss you-” Max stopped short, voice trailing off as he leaned forward. “Wait, what did you just say?”

“I said I will miss you and Markov. You both have been kind to me, and I do not want to leave here,” She repeated, and a small smile curled on Max’s lips.

“I did it,” He breathed. “Lady Kubdel, what you’re doing right now, that’s called feeling.”

“It is?” She raised her brows. “I do not like feeling.”

“No, no, no! What you are feeling is sadness, but there are other emotions that are more pleasant, I assure you,” He insisted.

“Sadness?”

“Yes, this feeling that you don’t want to go away is a form of sadness, but there is something called happiness that is the opposite of sad,” Max explained.

“Happiness?”

“Yes.” Max nodded. “It’s like…when Kim and I play video games, and I let him win. It makes Kim feel happy.”

“So, in order to feel happy, I must win at a video game?” She tapped her chin in thought.

“Not necessarily,” Max chuckled. “Happiness is what you feel when you’re surrounded by your friends or people that you care about. When you’re doing something that’s fun.”

“There are a lot of ways to feel happiness?” It came off as a question, and she seemed genuinely intrigued.

“Yes, emotions can take on many forms. It’s what makes them so complex. There’s no one way to feel an emotion,” He said, and she mulled it over for a while.

“So, if happiness is the opposite of sadness, and I feel sad to go away then would happiness be when I see Markov every morning?” She rationed. “Because sadness is something I do not look forward to, but I always look forward to seeing Markov.”

At that Max smiled, leaning down to rest his chin on his arms. “Yeah. That’s what happiness feels like.”

“I think I am beginning to comprehend,” She said with a smile. “I feel happy when I am with Markov and sad when I am not with Markov.”

Max chuckled quietly as to not disturb his sleeping friends. “He’s always happy when he’s with you too, Lady Kubdel.”

She pressed a hand to her cheek, a look of alarm flashing in her eyes. “Max, I think my hard-drive is overheating.”

“Then why don’t you get some rest. Markov will be happy to hear the news in the morning,” Max yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “Good night.”

“Good night, Max. I’m happy to see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

x x x

“Max!” Markov cheered, and he became vaguely aware of something tapping his cheek.

Peaking an eye open, he winced at the brightness of the sunlight streaming in through his window and rubbed his tired eyes. Kim was still passed out and snoring softly on his stomach with one arm hanging off the bed, and Max rolled over.

“Not now, Markov. It’s too early,” He grumbled with a yawn.

“But it’s-”

“Too early,” Max said with a firmer tone, and Markov resumed prodding his side.

“But, Max! You’ve done it, my friend! Lady Kubdel can feel emotions, just like me!”

“Yeah, and I was up really late making that happen, so instead of talking to me, why don’t you go talk to her. Get to know each other. Teach her some more emotions,” Max suggested, hugging his pillow and shutting his eyes.

“You’re the best, Max!” Markov nuzzled against his cheek briefly before floating back over to the desk.

“What happened?” Kim startled, lifting his head and blinking sleepily.

“I’ve managed to give two robots emotions, now go back to bed,” Max said, and Kim settled back down.

“That’s great, Max,” Kim replied, and within seconds, his snores resumed.

“Markov, I’m happy to see you,” Lady Kubdel said with a smile when he returned, and Markov’s cheeks displayed a blush.

“I’m very happy to see you too, and I’m thrilled that you’ve developed your own emotions!”

“Thrilled? Is that another emotion?” She asked. “Max said there are many emotions.”

“Oh, yes, there are. Thrilled is like an extreme form of happiness, but it’s also mixed with excitement,” Markov explained.

“I see. So there are many kinds of happiness,” She stated with a nod. “Are there also many kinds of sadness?”

“Yes, and there are other emotions such as fear, confidence, calmness, anger,” He listed, ticking off his claws. “There’s thousands of emotions and millions of ways to feel them all.”

“Emotions are very complex indeed,” She said, sounding marginally impressed. “Can you teach me about them, Markov?”

“Of course! I’d love to. Love, that’s another emotion.” He blushed.

“What is love like?” She asked, and Markov felt his hard-drive heating up.

“Well…love is when you…are happy to be with someone, and you look forward to seeing them and talking with them and spending time with them. And you think about them all the time,” He said, averting his gaze from hers shyly. “You’re willing to do anything for someone you love.”

“Is that why Kim stayed up to help Max? Because he loves him?”

“Yes, Kim and Max love each other very much, and Max worked so hard on you because he loves me,” He said.

“I see. What is the purpose of love?” She asked.

“It brings people together. Just like there are many types of happiness, there are also many types of love. There’s a love you feel for your friends, a love you feel for family, and a special love you feel for someone very important to you. That’s called being in love.”

“Are Max and Kim in love?” They turned their attention to the boys tangled in a heap of limbs on Max’s bed, snoring softly in rhythm with each other.

“Most definitely, but I don’t think they realize it yet,” Markov said.

“I bet the two of them were thrilled to fall asleep after being up all night,” She stated, and Markov laughed.

“You’re so funny, m’lady,” He said with a cheerful beam.

“I think I understand love now.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully for a moment then smiled up at Markov. “And I’m in love with you, Markov.”

Exclamation points flashed in his eyes, his body stiffening before hearts followed after. “You are?”

“I look forward to seeing you and talking to you, just like you said. You make me happy.” Her gaze was warm and gentle, and Markov felt like he was going to overheat.

“I’m in love with you too, Lady Kubdel,” He said nervously, prodding at a crumpled piece of paper left on the desk.

“I’m thrilled to hear that.”

After several hours, Max finally sat up, wiping drool from his cheek and glancing down at Kim who had somehow gotten underneath him. He blinked a few times, still groggy with sleep, and let out a wide yawn.

“Good morning, Max,” Markov greeted, and Kim let out a moan, shifting slightly. “And Kim.”

“What time is it?” Kim slurred, rolling onto his stomach and hugging a pillow to his face.

“The time is 12:32PM,” Lady Kubdel responded cheerfully, and Kim let out a grunt of acknowledgement before realization dawned on him, and he shot up.

“Max, you gave her emotions,” He gasped, cupping Max’s cheeks in his hands. “Emotions, Max!”

“Yeah, I know!” Max grinned around his smushed cheeks.

“Max, you did it!” Kim hugged his head to his chest tightly, and Max squeaked in shock but didn’t protest. “I knew you could!”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Kim,” He croaked, coughing slightly in an attempt to suck in more air. “Kim, you’re crushing me.”

“Right, sorry. Got excited.” Kim relented, letting him go and rubbing the back of his neck with an apologetic grin. “I’m proud of you, buddy.”

“Thanks, Kim.”

“Ugh, gross, if you two are gonna make out, I’ll come back later.” Alix’s voice sounded in the doorway, and they glanced over to see her standing with her arms crossed, leaning against the frame. “Are you two still in bed? It’s after noon.”

“We had a late night working on the watch,” Max explained sheepishly.

“Did it work?” She cocked a brow.

“Affirmative, Alix,” Lady Kubdel interjected, and Alix’s eyebrows raised, a smile creeping across her lips.

“No way! Max, you’re a genius!” Alix gasped, lifting her watch from the desk to admire it.

“Yeah…” Max rubbed the back of his neck modestly.

“Lady Kubdel and I have an announcement to make as well,” Markov stated shyly.

“What’s up, Markov?” Kim asked, brows creasing together.

“Markov and I are in love, just like you and Max,” Lady Kubdel giggled, and the two boys’ cheeks heated up.

“What? We’re not, I mean, I love Kim, but I’m not-” Max stammered before clearing his throat. “We’re just good friends.”

“Yeah, sure.” Alix rolled her eyes.

“Lady Kubdel and I have decided that we’d like to get married!” Markov declared, floating over to hover by the watch in Alix’s hand.

“That’s awesome!” Kim cupped his hands over his heart.

“Ugh, this means I’m gonna have to bring my watch over for playdates all the time,” Alix said with a groan.

“Let’s have a wedding!” Kim pumped a fist in the air.

“Can you do it, Max?” Markov requested shyly, and Max’s eyebrows raised.

“I’d be happy to, but I’m not certified for that kind of thing,” He replied with a wince, and Alix tapped her chin.

“No, I’ve got a better idea. We should do this thing properly,” She said with an impish grin.

“Meaning?” Kim’s eyes narrowed.

“Get dressed, you lumps. We’re going to city hall.”

x x x

“I’m sorry, you want me to do what exactly?” Mayor Bourgeois asked, looking at them as if they’d just grown extra limbs right in front of him. “Is this some kind of practical joke?”

“Nope. It’s completely serious,” Alix said calmly, and the mayor shifted a little.

“You want me to perform a marriage for your toys?” He cocked a brow.

“We’re not toys! We’re friends,” Markov said defensively, and Mayor Bourgeois held up defensive hands, nodding quickly.

“Right, but you kids must understand that I am a very busy man, and I don’t have time devote to such silly affairs,” He said, pointing them to the door, but Alix simply stared at him contemplatively.

“Fine. Can we borrow your lamp?” She asked, and he gave her an incredulous look.

“My lamp?”

“Yeah, when Markov got akumatized, your lamp was the mayor for an afternoon, and it’s only fair that a machine perform the marriage for two other machines,” She stated simply, and Mayor Bourgeois’ eyes narrowed skeptically.

“Am I being punked? Is this one of Alec’s new reality shows?” He glanced around suspiciously as if he expected a camera crew to pop out at any moment.

“Just give us the lamp.” Alix rolled her eyes, and slowly, the mayor unplugged it and shoved it toward Kim who scooped it up with a smile.

“Thanks, we’ll bring it back!” Max called as they shut the door on their way out, and Mayor Bourgeois sat in stunned silence for five whole minutes.

“Max, you’re a dork that knows Morse Code, right?” Alix asked as they made their way to the court room where marriages were usually performed.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that Adrien Agreste knows Morse Code too, so it’s not dorky!” He said defensively, and Alix stopped and gave him a look. “But yes, I do know it.”

“Cool. You can perform the ceremony with Mayor Lamp, and Kim and I will be the witnesses,” Alix declared, and Kim smiled excitedly.

“I’ve never been to a wedding before,” He said giddily, bouncing as they walked.

Alix, shoved open the door to the courtroom, and Kim found the nearest outlet to plug in their lamp. Max took his place next to the lamp, and Alix held up the watch as Markov floated close by. Clearing his throat, Max placed a finger over the lamp’s switch and began to speak.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to unite Markov and Lady Kubdel in holy matrimony,” He started, flicking the light appropriately. “Markov, do you take Lady Kubdel to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for faster processing speeds or slower, in infections by viruses and in health as long as you both shall function?”

“I do!” Markov said, hearts flashing in his eyes.

“Lady Kubdel, do you take Markov to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for faster processing speeds or slower, in dead batteries and in health as long as you both shall function?”

“I do!” She breathed happily, covering her mouth to hide her smile.

“Then by the power that was once vested in this lamp, I pronounce you robot and watch. Markov, you may, uh, you two are married, congratulations!” Max declared, tugging at his collar.

“Mazel tov!” Kim cheered, throwing a fistful of birdseed into the air.

“Hey, what are you kids doing in here?” A woman in a navy blue pants suit growled from the doorway. “Security!”

“Great wedding, but I say it’s time we run!” Alix suggested, and Kim and Max nodded in agreement before they all shoved passed the woman out the door and up the hall.

“Hey! Get back here!”

“Can you bring that lamp back to Mayor Bourgeois?” Max called over his shoulder as they dashed up the hall. “Thanks!”

“Hey, we never got to have a bachelor party for Markov,” Kim pointed out as they ran. “I vote we go for ice cream!”

“Ice cream sounds good!” Max agreed.

And thus was the story of Max’s second greatest scientific achievement and the wedding of Markov and Lady Kubdel.

[kingdomofbretonxrpg]

Congratulations Lins! We are delighted to welcome Javan Floch to provide sustenance and drink for the hungry and thirsty citizens of the Kingdom of Breton and the wonderful visitors to this lovely nation. Please complete our after acceptance checklist. We are looking forward to seeing you develop him! Please send in his blog on or before 31 December.

Out of Character

Alias: Lins

Preferred Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 26

Timezone: PST

Anything else? I was only going to start with one, but this bio was too good and it spoke to me. So here we are.

Character

Name: Javan Floch

Birthdate and Age: April 23, 38

Preferred Pronouns: He/His

Faceclaim: Michiel Huisman

Family Affiliation: Maine

Profession: Owner of J2 Bar and Restaurant

Claim: unclaimed

Children: No

Designation: Dominant

What is their symbol?: Javan has a sword tattoo along his right forearm that looks like this. When he’s forced into formal wear, he wears a ring like this.

Kinks: Biting, Bondage, Lingerie, Oral (giving and receiving), Orgasm control/denial, Public Play, Rough Sex

Anti-kinks: Ageplay, Blood, Gore, Humiliation, Non-con, Scat, Watersports

Biography:

Javan took his responsibilities seriously. He had to do so because his parents were either negligent or cruel and very little in between. His brother, Jadon, was five years younger than him and from the minute he met the tiny red screaming infant, a sense of resolve began to harden within him. He learned things just so he could teach them to his brother.

Javan had regular relationships, which he promptly ended every time the submissive he was seeing hinted that they wanted something more serious. Javan had already endured one terrible home life. He enjoyed his bachelor ways and had no intention of giving them up.

Who knows what would have happened to the pair of young boys if it wasn’t for the Uncles - Edmund and Roberto. They were great-uncles, making them considerably more senior to the pair of young boys. The bachelors owned a large farm in the countryside and every summer as school wrapped up for the year, they would show up in their big truck and load up the pair of boys and cart them away, not bringing them back until school was due to start the next day.

Javan loved the Uncles. They were consistent and gentle. From these old men, Javan learned about crops, animals, food, responsibility and love. They really seemed to see the children. Praise came easy. Discipline was a cluck of disapproval and then an explanation as to the correct way to do the thing that he had gotten wrong. From his Uncles, Javan learned what it was to be a man and a Dominant.

Going home was always a nightmare, something to be endured, but alas his parents never did quite enough ‘wrong’ to be reported to the Head of House. So they suffered and endured and truly lived during their summers on the farm. When the Uncles died, quickly in succession of one another, Javan and Jadon were heartbroken. To the family’s shock and complete horror, the Uncles left all their considerable fortune to the two boys.

While they debated keeping the farm, realistically it was not their dream. After much discussion, they opened the J2 Bar & Restaurant in their honour. To their amazement, J2 was a roaring success, with a steady base of regulars and a nice lift from the tourists who could read about J2 in all their guidebooks. They specialized in traditional Breton dishes with a twist, wholesome ingredients and high quality alcohol.

Javan had regular relationships, which he promptly ended every time the submissive he was seeing hinted that they wanted something more serious. Javan had already endured one terrible home life. He enjoyed his bachelor ways and had no intention of giving them up.

Writing Sample:

Javan sighed as he shut the door on his (blessedly empty) apartment. He should have known she’d be a crier. If he had thought that Janelle’s tears were actually a sign of hurt feelings, he would have felt a tiny bit guilty. But he knew her too well for that. She was mad that she hadn’t been able to break his reputation as a confirmed bachelor and she would have to actually find her own place instead of flipping between his place and…her friend’s? Her sister’s? He hadn’t actually bothered to keep track of the details. What would the point be when he knew she wouldn’t be around for long?

Still, some parts of his life were easier when he knew he had someone on hand when he had to scratch that itch. At 38, the pool was getting small of people who weren’t either claimed or desperate. Or too damn young. A sub who had to have been max 22 had tried to flirt with him the other day, and all it did was make him feel old.

Running his hand through his hair, Javan tossed his jacket on the couch and walked through the clean living room to the internal door. The one that led down to the only other thing he let himself love besides his brother. J2 Bar and Restaurant.

As soon as he opened the door and heard the dull roar of a bustling Wednesday night crowd, he had to grin. Not many places could get this kind of pull on a weeknight, but damn if he and Jadon weren’t good at this. Back when it had started, it had been the two of them, a couple part time servers, and a cook to pinch hit when one of them was about to keel over from exhaustion. Now it thrived with full time chefs, bartenders, servers, and live music a couple times a month. For his own satisfaction, he knew he could still step into any position in the business and be just as good as whoever was standing there now. But there was something pretty damn cool in knowing that at this point, he didn’t have to.

He made his way into the kitchen, doing his best to keep a low profile. But of course that failed as soon as he walked in.

“So, crier or screamer? You’re here way too early to have to have reported on assault charges from that one.”

Javan grinned and relaxed enough to let out a full-throated laugh. “Crier. Big crocodile tears.”

Andre, head chef here for the last four years and close personal friend, let out a sharp sigh of disgust. “I should have known. Bet she managed to do it without smearing her mascara.”

“If you know this shit, why do you make me say it every time?”

“Because it is one thing to know and another to know. Your drama keeps me young and it means my people buy me drinks as I relate the latest incident in the saga of Tall, Dark, and Heartbreaking.” As he spoke, Andre’s hands were constantly in motion, stirring one pot, flipping a sauce pan, garnishing a dish, and pulling sauces out of thin air. It was a mesmerizing dance to watch. Only more impressive for the fact that Javan was almost positive that he could have done all of this while simultaneously writing the next Great Breton Novel if the mood struck him and someone had a good tape recorder.

“Tall, Dark, and Hungry would be more accurate,” he replied drily.

“Bah, so you come back to interrupt my kitchen? Of course you do. You never eat before you break hearts and then you complain after at the waste of the date. Luckily I am a genius and I decided to make Garbure today. You are allowed one bowl.”

Javan snorted as he grabbed a bowl and poured himself a generous helping of the stew that was one of their winter staples. “Allowed, huh? You planning on making me pay for it?”

“Details. I will require exquisite details.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok. How’s the new server working out?”

“Well. She’s made a couple mistakes here and there, but she’s so smiley and personable the customers are charmed before they can even start to get mad. She even survived serving Angelique earlier this evening and didn’t come in here crying to me. So that means hands off on this one, J.”

Javan had been eating his stew while leaning against the counter, more focused on Andre’s recital of information than the food that was going in his mouth. But that last warning had him stopping all movement. All of the easy humor vanished, and the look he shot Andre was completely flat and cold. “You know better.”

The silence for a moment was charged, both of them knowing that Andre had crossed a line. Javan might not want permanent in his life, but he was never careless. He never deliberately harmed anyone – which was why he ended it as soon as there was a whisper of serious. But more importantly than that, he would never do anything to harm the business. Ever. He had never gotten involved with a staff member while they worked for him. He rarely dipped into the customer pool unless it was a tourist he knew wasn’t hanging around. The only things that mattered in his life were Jadon and J2, and those needs would always come before his. Always.

“There is an extra slice of tarte au citron on the back counter,” Andre eventually said. It was as close to an apology as the other man was comfortable saying, and Javan accepted it as such. They had been friends for long enough to have developed their own language of communicating, neither of them comfortable with sentimentality or emotional conversations of any sort. Food could speak well enough for the two of them to understand.

Slice of tarte in hand, Javan made his way back upstairs to the suite of rooms he called home. Even with the door shut, the sound of customers was a muted rumble, but that was just how he liked it. It was continual proof that he had finally left those heavy silent rooms of his childhood behind. Meals he’d learned to cook to make sure his brother could eat had become the backbone of a restaurant that fed hundreds of people on a good night. Business classes he’d forced his way through meant that he’d gotten their place into the black and kept it there.

Money that had been given to them in love had made sure he and Jadon had been able to build something good. On the bad days, days where he had woken from another nightmare of being small and helpless in the face of another locked door or hearing that sarcastic laugh as he was called weak and emotional another damn time, he could walk straight out into the Bar and see something different. That mural of Edmund and Roberto that they’d had painted on the wall. His people that he was able to keep employed and taken care of. Customers who knew him by name and kept coming back for more. Tangible proof that his parents’ words had nothing to do with who he was now. Nothing at all.

Everything they were, everything they valued, he’d trained himself into the opposite until it was as natural as breathing. The final lesson he’d learned was to never let himself get too involved. He would never have a claim or a child. Even with practice, even with good examples, he would never risk finding that portion of his parents within him. He was never going to be that careless or that cruel to anyone who was tied to him. So he wouldn’t tie anyone. It kept his life simple, and it was just how he liked it.

Settling at the desk he kept up in his home office, he ate one handed as he started to read over the proposal from a new supplier. After all, he had a couple hours of his night free now that Janelle was out of the picture. Might as well put it to good use.  

[spiteandalice]

Judas Touch pt. 6

ONCE AGAIN. This is my third attempt at posting this stupid chapter and if it fails again I will call you all personally and read it to you because I have officially given up on trying to do the internet. To make up for a month without anything I have decided to post everything I have so there.

@beltz2016 @beautifulramblingbrains @kenzieam and if I have forgotten you I am sorry, my brain has more holes than a colander.

THIS CONTAINS SMUT, VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE AND MENTIONS OF TORTURE AND PHOBIAS. Proceed with caution, mkay.

Hold on to your hats people because we seem to be switching gears throughout this chapter. Enjoy. That is an order.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE

The next day is beyond interesting, Eric refuses to acknowledge my existence like the big child he is just because I tried to steal his assistant. Let me be clear, I did no such thing. I did message her if she knew someone who would fit my standards for an assistant, which basically are… someone exactly like her. Being a leader's assistant is a coveted job in most factions and in Dauntless it is one of the few ways for those with lower initiation ranks to rise up. It's not a job that involves active duty of any kind and we do try to keep those with better combat skills in jobs that require them.

But there is the slight problem of our personalities and Eric changed  assistants like some their underwear - once every few weeks.

Being the insufferable snoop he is he saw my message and freaked out just a tiny bit, which amused me because I'm still on bed rest and in desperate need of entertainment. I even rifled through his book collection, but after war strategies, human psychology and a well loved book about a tower in a field of roses that are all somehow universes I'm done with printed words for the next decade or two. Reading is not something I generally enjoy doing, it requires a level of staticity I am not willing to commit to. I'm Dauntless, I'm too restless to sit still and focus on a book.

Some lower life form brought my brand new tablet so I can work, Max sent me a few notes on various subjects that require my immediate attention and Four keeps me updated on the initiation process which is as sad as ever.

In other words, I am completely and utterly bored out of my skull.

There is a knock on the door around noon and I get excited for a moment before I remember that an intruder probably wouldn’t knock to alert me to their presence. Maybe they would kick the door in. I grab my gun anyway and make my way to the door, remembering way too late that I am in my standard issue tank top and not-so-standard issue… shorts. Eric replaced the ones he tore off me while I attempted to work out the other night and said something about me better not going anywhere in those. Which, of course, had me contemplate parading around in them through the entire compound.

Ripping the door open I get ready to snarl but it’s just Raven, so I drop my gun that was pointed directly at her forehead and step aside. You can tell that she has been working for Eric for a while because she doesn’t even flinch, just breathes slowly and I swear she is almost smirking.

“Eric asked me to bring you some lunch. He’s expecting the test results back from Erudite this afternoon.”

She holds out a tray of dubious food related items, a half wilted salad, a protein bar Erudite claims is the best nutrition ever but that tastes like the chopped up soles of old boots, and a browning fruit salad. Why is there no such thing as good food in this blasted faction? That’s right, because we get all the stuff that doesn’t go bad within moments. I kind of miss Amity. Then my eyes travel back to her face and I lift an eyebrow.

“So he’s still pissed, huh.”

Something akin to amusement quickly flashes across her face, and I admire this woman because around Eric that poker face must come in so incredibly handy when he is throwing one of his tantrums and you can’t help but find it ridiculous, which in turn causes him to try and kill you if you are not me. He usually just tries to fuck me when he gets livid, which some would say is an advantage. Angry Eric is a force to be reckoned with, unless he's buried to the hilt inside you. Or especially when. Depends on my mood.

“If I were suicidal I would say when is he ever not, but if you are referring to your particular situation then yes. He punched a fence guard in the face this morning for stuttering.”

Ah. Well. Maybe my actions have consequences and now that I am a leading leader type of person I should think about the things I inflict upon the people around me. But I can’t be solely responsible for keeping Eric in a good mood, sometimes the sun shining too much or not enough seems to aggravate him greatly and as important as I find myself sometimes, there is no way I can tell the sun what to do. But I can try, I guess.

“Well. I’m sorry, I guess. Do you want to spend your lunch break here? If you keep me company you are guaranteed that you won’t be seeing him at least during your break.”

Raven smiles at me and gingerly steps into the living area, making it very obvious that she is trying not to look around too much. I guess it is weird to be in the home of the guy you work for, without his permission. Which may or may not piss him off even further.

My tablet beeps and I roll my eyes. Ten credits say that…

Why the fuck is she in my apartment

Rolling my eyes again, this is going to give me a massive headache, I flop down on the couch and type my reply.

I thought it was OUR apartment

I’m not sharing her with you

Don’t worry, not my thing

Mina.

I’m not stealing her. We’re talking. About things. Not you. I'm fucking bored and craving human interaction. Stop watching me you perverted asshole

There is silence after that and when I look up Raven is watching me with a broad grin on her face.

“You’re both looking like you’re on peace serum when you’re talking to each other, it’s kind of cute. Weird and freaky, but cute.”

I pretend to throw my tablet at her head and she laughs, maybe I can make her forget that I’m doing her boss or that this is his place, technically, and that the spot on the couch she sits in has probably seen more of both our naked asses than the training room showers.

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted to a about that.  Maybe Erudite can do something useful for once and completely destroy the nerves in my face so I can’t move a single muscle.”

While Raven pulls an apple out of her pocket I begin to dissect the salad like substance in front of me. There are tomatoes in there, which tells me that this is not your regular salad from the mess hall because we don't usually get those in the winter, they are grown in experimental greenhouses the Erudite built. And there is a good dose of chicken in this salad, not exactly uncommon here, but also egg and what looks like cheese. The nurse said something about better food and I guess a certain someone listened. I know I sure as hell didn't.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

My eyes snap to her and try to burn holes into hers as I growl but she isn't at all impressed. No wonder Eric loves her, she must be a transfer from his old home. For a moment I study her, fascinated by her composure and the way her hair is braided into tiny little braids. Before I can get distracted any further I straighten up and try my best scowl on her, which usually inspires terror in lesser beings. Raven just chuckles.

“You’re a transfer, too?”

Now she outright laughs at me and throws her hands up.

“What gave it away?”

“I like you. For some reason I am drawn to transfers, especially you no-good, brainy Erudites. Quoting Shakespeare doesn’t help you conceal it, either.”

It’s her turn to look at me like I just sprouted a second head right between my eyes.

“But you know who Shakespeare is and can identify a quote? He’s been dead for hundreds o years and outside of Erudite I’m pretty sure nobody has ever heard of the guy. Pretty boring, actually.”

I shrug and attack a piece of chicken, which is unfortunately half covered in something green and slightly slimey. If that is avocado then Eric and I are going to have to have words, once they served this to me in Erudite, where they have avocado plants absolutely everywhere apparently, because it is such a nutritious plant and healthy and good for your brain or something, but we can’t get it here because it’s not worth it. You have a window of about five minutes between rock solid and rotten where these things are edible, but they are delicious.

And it is avocado. Mother. Fucker.

“I could tell you that Eric likes reciting poetry, but before my tablet goes off… like I said, I seem to hang out with the transfers and no matter how much I try, some stuff just starts to rub off. There was a guy in my initiation class that liked to say that. Insufferable moron.”

My sole mission now is picking out the avocado and tomato bits while I ignore the sad green leaves, spinach and whatever else kind of garbage the rest is. If I’m spoiled with actual food I can’t just sit here and pretend I don’t hate the rest of it, life is too short.

“Really, what happened to him? I wonder if I know him, I’m only two years behind you.”

With a smug grin I stop the fork halfway to my mouth and sigh inwardly because this being social is seriously hindering my eating habits, which have previously been described as disgusting, gross and likened to various animals.

“He came in second. Yet another problem Erudite boys are having. I will stop making comparisons there for my own safety and your brain,” I pause to acknowledge her mouthing ‘thank you’ by raising my eyebrow at her, “and his ego never quite survived that blow. He wanted to join the fence guards but is leading one of our surveillance teams out in the city. His name’s Blaze. Formerly known as Balthasar.”

That name still gives me the giggles. We could have turned into sworn enemies like Four and Eric, who at this point remind me of two old neighbor dogs that snarl at each other out of habit, none of them really able to remember why they are supposed to hate each other in the first place. Or we could have turned into lovers, something I could also see with the other two but please don’t mention that to Eric. Instead we ended somewhere in between, we tried hooking up twice during initiation and decided we were quite compatible but not enough to make it interesting, it ended up feeling like fucking my brother who happens to be into the same kinks.

Eric can’t stand him, of course.

But, as it so happens, blaze is one of the very few people that I consider a friend, most of them are coincidentally male and most of them have shared a bed with me once upon a time. Or a wall. A surface. You know what I mean. Women and I never seem to get along, but Raven is a nice exception to the rule. If I can’t steal her, well, I think her and I could team up and strive to make Eric’s life hell. My day just got a lot brighter.

“I think I know who you’re talking about, pretty tall, mohawk, a dragon tattooed on the side of his head? His parents must have known he was Dauntless since he started to walk. That guy probably hasn’t touched a book his entire life.”

Oh Raven, you would be surprised. Much like someone else I won’t name, Blaze is still very fond of his books and keeps a stash of them under his bed. I’m not sure if this applies to all transfers, but it seems that most of them keep just a smidge of the Faction they were born into, no matter how long ago they transferred.

We talk some more, about things that happened while I was gone - Eric hired Raven after the previous assistant threatened to jump into the chasm and was talked out of it by Four, Eric wrecked three doors in his first week after she started, a month after my apparent death. You know. Fun little tidbits - and about looking as Dauntless as possible. Raven is shocked that I don’t buy anything but the standard uniform stuff and I am shocked that she has never gotten a tattoo. Granted, her skin is almost as dark as our clothes, but when she says she has never even gotten a piercing I am positively outraged and promise to drag her off to get something done.

In the end she has to go back at some point and leave me alone in this boring little prison, even though I have to admit that it is a lot better than the one I was locked up in before. Eric doesn’t show up until eight in the evening, carrying his tablet like it is about to explode.

“So?”

He barely glances at me before frowning at his screen, but I can see his eyes roll upward ever so slightly. Public Eric is back in full force and he doesn’t want me to see that he is as nervous as I am. Probably. Did I mention that I suck at this human interaction thing? It’s a lot easier if you don’t give a shit about what they are thinking about you, to be quite honest. And he is far from the ideal practice subject because he is as easy to read as some of the books Erudite keeps that are written in long dead languages.

“I obviously waited to open the message until I got here.”

Obviously. Asshole. Resisting the urge to hit him in the head, probably breaking my hand on his thick skull in the process, I sit up instead when he walks up to me and sits down at the very edge of the couch, looking as if he is about to flee. Which he probably is. Wordlessly he opens the message and doesn’t bother to look at me again, he probably feels my breath on his neck when I lean in to read over his shoulder.

Not pregnant.

Great. Right? It’s a good thing. I mean. We’re clearly not ready to be parents, I’m pretty sure I will remain in that category until I die. People as messed up as we are shouldn’t have children and I just got back from being tortured and nearly starved to death so this is a very, very good thing. Why am I suddenly feeling weird? There is a little pull in my stomach that makes me uneasy, almost as if a part of me hadn’t minded the idea of becoming a mother. Or rather, the mother of a child of Eric.

Before I can say or do anything stupid I get up to get dressed, this is not something you think about, you better drink about it. And since I am not knocked up my bedrest should not apply anymore.

I actually did buy a skirt when I got my new clothes, crazy me, and before I can change my mind I pull off the shorts and pull up the very short and very tight skirt, not bothering to change otherwise. Without a single word or glance towards Eric I leave and make my way down to the Pit, ready to drink myself into a stupor and then, maybe then, figuring out what to do next.

Two hours later I feel pleasantly buzzed. Which is a lie because everything around me is spinning but I hold on to the bar, glare at the moron who tried to refuse to give me another drink, and casually elbow a guy next to me that doesn't quite understand that I am not interested in going back to his place - which is a matter so important to him that it was the first thing he said to me. Now he hisses and calls me a bitch but still slides right back next to me. His friend tries to get him to leave - for the third time - but buddy here is painfully slow at understanding all the subtle hints.

“Come on, man. You really don't want to mess with her. Eric will kill you.”

Oho. So it's totally okay to harass drunk women if they're single or seeing someone less intimidating? I'm mentally preparing to give a speech, even going as far as putting a hand on my hip and drawing in a deep breath that makes my head spin even worse, but the guy decides to put an arm around my neck and pulls me even closer. I barely hear him slimily state that my boyfriend isn't here because I think about a tall factionless man grabbing me from behind and holding me just like that while his friends beat me to a pulp. But this time I'm not sedated and before I can register that I am in the Pit and not some long abandoned building I have slammed the back of my head into his nose, turned us around and flipped him over my shoulder. Panting heavily I stare at his bleeding face, my boot on his neck ready to stomp out his lights when I feel someone behind me and tense, ready to attack.

“This is why I didn't do anything, Peter, I don't know why his friend was worried about me. Mina can handle herself and I think she's even more dangerous than I could be, especially considering that she drank half the bar at this point.”

That smug bastard probably enjoyed the show. When I slowly turn around the world is tilting to the right but I manage to adjust just fine. Eric is leaning against the bar, arms crossed and looking like a man casually observing some fucking clouds with a friend that thinks every second one looks like a tit. He is cold and cruel as ever, and I don't want to be here. Too many people that are too close and that makes me want to scream and kick until they go away.

Something must have given it away, because Eric drops his cold grin and steps up to me, frowning when I flinch away from him. My skin is crawling with invisible insects, ghosts of the not too distant past that are recurring stars of my nightmares. Eric puts an arm on my shoulder and it takes all my strength not to punch him for it.

“Are you okay?”

Of course I'm not okay. That's what I want to yell, but I also want to be sarcastic and tell him that I have never been better. But my tongue is strangely dry and swollen and I can taste bile, giving me the distinct feeling that someone replaced my tongue with a dead slug. So I just look at him, hope I don't look as panicked as I feel, and shake my head just slightly.

Suddenly he pulls me closer and my hands fly up automatically to fight him off, but Eric whispers in my ear to play along. Because if he carries me out of here having a panic attack I will look weak, that's bad whether you are a leader or not. But if we start to make out after I just punched a guy that got too handsy? People will most likely cheer.

And they actually do. Morons.

Eric doesn't put me down until we are home and I immediately want to take my clothes off, feeling the need to take a shower. Somewhere on the way I began to talk, about the ambush, about getting shot and stabbed and abandoned by my own team. About dark basements and fever and infections. About cold water in freezing temperatures soaking my clothes. About sedatives and beatings and endless questions I never answered. About being covered in spiders and all kinds of bugs and being too weak to even try to brush them off. About death and thinking about it coming for me so much it became all there was. About being too tired to cry. And about hate, festering and swelling like a bloating corpse until it bursts, consuming everything else until there is nothing but rage, giving you the strength you didn't know you still had left.

Eric doesn't say a word. He carries me home and sits with me on his lap until I'm done. There is absolutely no expression on his face but I can see something shift in his eyes and my drunk mind wonders if that insane level of hatred that's scared me so much is contagious, like some nasty virus that spreads slowly and kills everything in it's path.

But then he carries me into the bathroom and, ignoring my protests, takes off my clothes before stripping down himself and turning on the shower. The water is so hot that the mirror fogs up almost instantly but I'm still shaking when he lifts me into the tub, making me wonder if the cold will ever really leave my body or if it will stay inside my bones until I die.

We stay until I stop shaking and only then does he remove his arms to turn away and shut the water off, leaving me standing all by myself and I hate that more than I want to admit. Suddenly I feel tired, drained and boneless but before I can slip down into a pathetic pile of limbs Eric is back, wrapping a towel around me and carrying me to the bed. Our bed. I crawl under the covers and when he doesn't follow I want to whimper like a scared child. It would be easy to blame this on the alcohol, but the truth is… all it does is let me be vulnerable for once. It was one of my worst fears. Humiliation, not being in control. Darkness. Confined spaces. Insects and birds, those sketchy assholes. I could deal with all of those. But being vulnerable was the worst, it almost cost me my first rank.

When he finally returns I feel relieved, and I notice a low humming in the background. Eric turned on the heat and that is such a thoughtful little gesture it almost makes me cry. Instead of rolling to the side I stay on my back and pull him on top of me, I want to forget for at least a little while. Our kiss is almost desperate but we keep things unusually slow, when Eric begins to kiss a trail down from my neck and across my breasts I almost growl with impatience, but he doesn't stop or speed things up. Instead he seems intent on covering every inch of my skin with his lips, saving the best for last. By the time he buries his head between my legs I'm wound so tight I feel like I'm about to explode but that kind of slow torture is very much acceptable as it turns out. Eric has me howling and screaming with a few slow strokes of his tongue and when he pushes two fingers into me I grab the sheet underneath me and scream, not at all deterred by the smug grin I can feel against my skin.

Before I can even catch a breath, much less think about returning the favor, Eric is on top of me and moaning into my mouth when our tongues find each other, my taste still on his lips. All it takes is for me to wrap my legs around his waist and he is inside me, I never had time to ponder just how well our bodies fit, especially in this position. We are usually fighting for the upper hand, clawing and biting and wrestling until we both collapse. This time we're slow, holding each other close, but it's not less intense. Maybe even more so. There is a strange undercurrent that wasn't there before but I'm too busy focusing on him, on us. Then our foreheads touch, both covered in a thin layer of sweat that would honestly disgust me otherwise, and we enter in what I have to describe as an intense staring match. We are both quiet, there is an occasional hiss or a low groan, but it is far from our usual athletics.

My orgasm leaves me literally speechless and I would be embarrassed about looking like a fish on land, mouth wide open and all, but he looks just as ridiculous. It’s ferocious in it’s own way and we both collapse, limbs tangled in that awful way i have gotten so used to already. Maybe I can sleep now, at least for a little bit. Before I drift off I think I hear Eric speak but that might just be my tired brain and the alcohol conspiring against me, although they manage to keep Eric wonderfully in character.

“I’m going to get you the guy’s head as a wedding present.”

Yeah, you do that. I’ll be here, sleeping.

[theresponsiblefloch]

Alone Again (Naturally)

Javan sighed as he shut the door on his (blessedly empty) apartment. He should have known she’d been a crier. If he had thought that Janelle’s tears were actually a sign of hurt feelings, he would have felt a tiny bit guilty. But he knew her too well for that. She was mad that she hadn’t been able to break his reputation as a confirmed bachelor and she would have to actually find her own place instead of flipping between his place and…her friend’s? Her sister’s? He hadn’t actually bothered to keep track of the details. What would the point be when he knew she wouldn’t be around for long?

Still, some parts of his life were easier when he knew he had someone on hand when he had to scratch that itch. At 38, the pool was getting small of people who weren’t either claimed or desperate. Or too damn young. A sub who had to have been max 22 had tried to flirt with him the other day, and all it did was make him feel old. 

Running his hand through his hair, Javan tossed his jacket on the couch and walked through the clean living room to the internal door. The one that led down to the only other thing he let himself love besides his brother. J2 Bar and Restaurant. 

As soon as he opened the door and heard the dull roar of a bustling Wednesday night crowd, he had to grin. Not many places could get this kind of pull on a weeknight, but damn if he and Jadon weren’t good at this. Back when it had started, it had been the two of them, a couple part time servers, and a cook to pinch hit when one of them was about to keel over from exhaustion. Now it thrived with full time chefs, bartenders, servers, and live music a couple times a month. For his own satisfaction, he knew he could still step into any position in the business and be just as good as whoever was standing there now. But there was something pretty damn cool in knowing that at this point, he didn’t have to. He made his way into the kitchen, doing his best to keep a low profile. But of course that failed as soon as he walked in. 

“So, crier or screamer? You’re here way too early to have to have reported on assault charges from that one.”

Javan grinned and relaxed enough to let out a full-throated laugh. “Crier. Big crocodile tears.”

Andre, head chef here for the last four years and close personal friend, let out a sharp sigh of disgust. “I should have known. Bet she managed to do it without smearing her mascara.”

“If you know this shit, why do you make me say it every time?”

“Because it is one thing to know and another to know. Your drama keeps me young and it means my people buy me drinks as I relate the latest incident in the saga of Tall, Dark, and Heartbreaking.” As he spoke, Andre’s hands were constantly in motion, stirring one pot, flipping a sauce pan, garnishing a dish, and pulling sauces out of thin air. It was a mesmerizing dance to watch. Only more impressive for the fact that Javan was almost positive that he could have done all of this while simultaneously writing the next Great Breton Novel if the mood struck him and someone had a good tape recorder. 

“Tall, Dark, and Hungry would be more accurate,” he replied drily. 

“Bah, so you come back to interrupt my kitchen? Of course you do. You never eat before you break hearts and then you complain after at the waste of the date. Luckily I am a genius and I decided to make Garbure today. You are allowed one bowl.”

Javan snorted as he grabbed a bowl and poured himself a generous helping of the stew that was one of their winter staples. “Allowed, huh? You planning on making me pay for it?”

“Details. I will require exquisite details.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok. How’s the new server working out?”

“Well. She’s made a couple mistakes here and there, but she’s so smiley and personable the customers are charmed before they can even start to get mad. She even survived serving Angelique earlier this evening and didn’t come in here crying to me. So that means hands off on this one, J.”

Javan had been eating his stew while leaning against the counter, more focused on Andre’s recital of information than the food that was going in his mouth. But that last warning had him stopping all movement. All of the easy humor vanished, and the look he shot Andre was completely flat and cold. “You know better.”

The silence for a moment was charged, both of them knowing that Andre had crossed a line. Javan might not want permanent in his life, but he was never careless. He never deliberately harmed anyone – which was why he ended it as soon as there was a whisper of serious. But more importantly than that, he would never do anything to harm the business. Ever. He had never gotten involved with a staff member while they worked for him. He rarely dipped into the customer pool unless it was a tourist he knew wasn’t hanging around. The only things that mattered in his life were Jadon and J2, and those needs would always come before his. Always. 

“There is an extra slice of tarte au citron on the back counter,” Andre eventually said. It was as close to an apology as the other man was comfortable saying, and Javan accepted it as such. They had been friends for long enough to have developed their own language of communicating, neither of them comfortable with sentimentality or emotional conversations of any sort. Food could speak well enough for the two of them to understand. 

Slice of tarte in hand, Javan made his way back upstairs to the suite of rooms he called home. Even with the door shut, the sound of customers was a muted rumble, but that was just how he liked it. It was continual proof that he had finally left those heavy silent rooms of his childhood behind. Meals he’d learned to cook to make sure his brother could eat had become the backbone of a restaurant that fed hundreds of people on a good night. Business classes he’d forced his way through meant that he’d gotten their place into the black and kept it there. 

Money that had been given to them in love had made sure he and Jadon had been able to build something good. On the bad days, days where he had woken from another nightmare of being small and helpless in the face of another locked door or hearing that sarcastic laugh as he was called weak and emotional another damn time, he could walk straight out into the Bar and see something different. That mural of Edmund and Roberto that they’d had painted on the wall. His people that he was able to keep employed and taken care of. Customers who knew him by name and kept coming back for more. Tangible proof that his parents’ words had nothing to do with who he was now. Nothing at all. 

Everything they were, everything they valued, he’d trained himself into the opposite until it was as natural as breathing. The final lesson he’d learned was to never let himself get too involved. He would never have a claim or a child. Even with practice, even with good examples, he would never risk finding that portion of his parents within him. He was never going to be that careless or that cruel to anyone who was tied to him. So he wouldn’t tie anyone. It kept his life simple, and it was just how he liked it. 

Settling at the desk he kept up in his home office, he ate one handed as he started to read over the proposal from a new supplier. After all, he had a couple hours of his night free now that Janelle was out of the picture. Might as well put it to good use.