#a) handling some legal documentation/their id

[wandixx]

Seriously chaotic fashion misadventures

I realized I posted a teaser and never really followed up on it, so here is some more of that

“Hey, Dami?”

Boy hadn’t looked up from the kittens he was bottle feeding but let out a hum indicating he listened.

“I'm thinking about trying out a more girlish style. Do you think it would suit me?”

Well, Damian had no idea but if Dani wished to give it a chance, then, well, the only proper reaction was to offer his aid.

*-*-*

“Father, I require access to your rouge gallery.”

Bruce almost choked on his breakfast when his youngest made this announcement.

Rouge gallery, as his children playfully called it, was vast collection of lipsticks, which he collected to uphold his Brucie persona. Famous playboy with head constantly in the clouds couldn’t not show up with discreet signs of scandal from time to time. And it couldn’t always be the same shade. Or scent when he choose more subtle approach and used one of his more feminine perfumes.

In all honesty, he enjoyed this.

But that’s not the point, point was that Damian wanted to use it and Bruce needed to know what disaster would fall upon him if he agreed.

“Mind telling me why, chum?”

Dick, who visited Manor for a weekend, barely stifled his laughter while Tim stared at his empty coffee mug like it personally betrayed him. Cass just wore her usual knowing and mischievous smile.

Damian shifted in his chair, hands clenching on butter knife. He was nervous and suddenly Bruce dreaded the answer he was about to hear.

“I don’t see how me sharing this information would change anything. It won’t be used to cause harm to anyone but it’s necessary in the extracurricular project I just started.”

“Dami, what project?” Dick asked, voice oozing with genuine curiosity and excitement. He was almost bouncing.

“I don’t want to disclose it.”

“Is this a hero or civilian type of deal?”

Damian didn’t look any of them in the eyes, both hands clenching on his seat as he kept shifting. Bruce narrowed his eyes. Was his youngest… flustered?

“Civilian”

“Alright, great” Dick swung back with single clap, almost tripping his chair over “I think B won’t have anything against you using his rouge gallery, will he?” Man knew his oldest son well enough to recognize his ‘don’t you dare to disagree’ tone. He was confused but there wasn’t any harm so he nodded with affirmative hum.

“Thank you, Father”

Boy practically inhaled rest of his food and rushed outside. Despite all his training and all his efforts, they clearly saw his excitement. Tim pinched himself and returned to staring at his mug.

“Cass, have you seen what I’ve seen or am I overreacting?” Dick asked, barely restraining his enthusiasm. Girl nodded eagerly, shoving more crumbs into her mouth. Young man cheered, throwing his hands up.

“What have I missed?” Tim mumbled, frowning a little.

“BABY BAT HAS A CRUSH!”

Cass nodded again with wide smile.

Oh.

Oh no.

Who were they? What did he know about them? Was Protocol 3r0s started? Did someone run a background check already? What could they do if they somehow hurt Damian? Was this person a risk to their identities? Oh gods, oh no.

He probably will have to do The Talk™.

He always dreaded having The Talk, with any of his kids. He felt The Talk with Damian would be even worse. Understandably so.

“Also sleep in at least three da-”

“Fuck off, dick.”

“Was this insult or-”

His children remained obvious to how much work it meant, cheering and sassing each other like they often did.

*-*-*

Damian did not know how it was possible but he lowered his guard enough to get caught.

"What are you doing?" Brown choked out after they stared at each other for a long moment.

"It does not concern you–"

"You're rummaging through my wardrobe, not many things concern me more and also, that's frickin creepy don't do it to anyone outside of the family"

She did have a point however he was not convinced it would be the correct approach if he shared his plan. Father's wards (even unofficial like Brown) tended to make assumptions and overreact based on these conjectures. Dani wasn't easy to scare off but he didn't want to check if his family would manage. They often did things thought to be impossible.

He tried to get away but the blonde stood fiercely in a door, leaving the window as the only way out. He wasn't this desperate. Yet.

Girl looked more and more angry at his silence. He had to give her some answers.

Now that he actually considered it, she could be a useful asset. She was far better versed in women's fashion and if he phrased it correctly, he wouldn't even need to bribe her. Question was, how should he phrase it?

"I have an acquaintance- I have a friend," he corrected himself "from the animal shelter I volunteer at. She mentioned wanting to try out more 'girlish style' and asked for my opinion. I wanted to see if you had any clothes that would fit her. She is smaller than me so I thought that whatever I take, it wouldn't be missed." 

Brown grinned with an unsettling gleam in her eyes. He suddenly regretted opening his mouth if not coming to this room in the first place. 

"Say no more, I have a plan Demon Child"

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Oh man your comment about everyone thinking about their futures kicking and screaming reminds me: yet another reason Tobias refuses to go human nothlit is because not only does he not know how to handle all the bureaucracy and admin stuff that comes with being a human adult, but he refuses to learn.

Like, why does every document ask for his social security number? What are they, cops? Surely he doesn't actually need to renew his ID. Everyone knows who he is.

At one point he gets a sponsorship deal to do some commercial and hides the money under separate trees. Marco yells at him, opens a bank account for him, and gives him a folder of documents with his bank info to keep safe. Tobias keeps it safe by burying it under yet another tree.

I was about to be like "how did Tobias end up with cash to bury under trees if he didn't cash the checks" but then I realized that, of course, he balls up the checks and drops them through Marco's skylight for Marco to deal with.

And every time Marco is like "You forgot to endorse it!" and Tobias, while flying away, yells back «I endorse you to fucking do it!» before disappearing into the trees.

Eventually it comes out that Tobias doesn't have a legal signature, or at least his legal signature consists of Marco writing his name on things. Bonus if it comes out that Marco has been misspelling his name this entire time.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Tiptoe Through the Tulips-Tiny Tim

Okay so after the prologue yesterday, I figured I'd post the first chapter and see what you guys think. Do you want to see more of this story? Do you like it? Please let me know!

TWs: slavery, ABO

Wordcount:

Art from This Post

Story below the cut

Tiptoe Through the Tulips-Tiny Tim

The crisp autumn wind whistled through the tunnels, howling out a wretched cry of despair before leaping onto the platform to stalk a wrought iron bench. On said bench sat a shivering woman carrying nothing but a briefcase and a sign. The sign was furled around the edges, and there was a stain of coffee on the upper corner that someone had obviously tried to get rid of but had decidedly given up upon, focussing more on keeping their fingers warmed up against their sides.

You sneezed and checked the overhead clock to see if the delayed train was on its way anytime soon. Your fingers were bright red, knuckles white from gripping on the sign firmly enough to crumple it. You gulped, the ticker’s orange lights above indicating that the train would indeed be another fifteen minutes before arrival. It seemed that there had been some sort of incident on the tracks. You wouldn’t have been surprised, really. Despite the fencing and the guards in the station, it was hard to prevent someone from slipping through the cracks. One would have thought a more effective solution would have been put in place by now, but it seemed such was not the case. In a way, you envied that ghost of your mind, freed from the world of shackles and hierarchies. And yet, you shuddered to think of all the bones that had been left behind on the rails.

You looked down to the briefcase and fiddled with the locks. There, inside the briefcase, were all the papers needed to ensure the entire arrangement went smoothly. There were your identification cards, the legal documents (already signed, you triple-checked), even the personal papers that your father had painstakingly wrote out to ensure that the guards would be sure of your identity, as if the chip in your bite collar wasn't enough proof. You thumbed the collar, mindlessly. You had your other ID card in your wallet, but most people liked to use the collar. You just wished you had an arm bracelet like the alphas and betas around you, but they said that the collar was more convenient. You just considered it an insult every time you had to present your neck just to buy some groceries.

The autumn air was brumous, doing nothing to really comfort you as you shuffled on the cold wooden bench. You checked over your shoulder, and saw naught but the staircase leading to the rest of the station. Behind you on your right was a cafe where a young beta B woman was sweeping some fallen leaves to the side. She didn’t seem tall, but you worried about how quick she might be. She certainly had long legs. It wouldn’t take much to come over and take you out from behind. It wouldn’t take much to collapse your trachea as she choked you out, and she could easily hide the body in the dumpsters. Damn the security cameras, when had those stopped anyone? Not when it was a crime against an omega, at least. You had been raised on warnings from your parents to be on guard. You needed to be on guard, you were an omega. Omegas were weak, omegas were pathetic, omegas were dead meat-

You slapped your leg, relishing in the pain that followed. You needed pain to focus. Pain was clear, simple. Pain had a cause and an effect. Easy to take, easy to understand. If you could still feel, it meant you were here, in the present. You were breathing, you were alive. And if pain meant you were alive, then by that logic, it meant that you could breathe, which was what you settled on doing.

You didn’t really understand why your father had to be so busy on that particular day. Normally, he would have been perfectly fine to go out and handle the legal proceedings himself. It would have been fine! Why was it that the cafe had been busy that day? Why did your father decide that his daughter, his omega O daughter,  needed to take responsibility and do something on your own? It was far too much pressure, and frankly, it was really not the brightest of ideas. After all, why were you here? You didn’t understand the legal logistics of all of this nonsense. You didn’t understand much of anything about this whole situation, if he was to be perfectly honest.

And yet, you sat on the bench regardless. You sat on that blasted bench with nothing but a sign and a briefcase. It would have been nice to have a coffee, but it wasn’t like you had the money to buy one anymore. Your father had always been tight on money, meaning he didn’t have much to spend paying his daughter. You had long since accepted that you’d work at the cafe for free until you inherited, if you inherited anything at all. After all, family helped family for free, didn’t they?

You sneezed. There wasn’t much around to really keep your mind off of the whole situation. Now that you noticed it, the train station was oddly quiet. It was midday on a Wednesday, certainly, but it still had your skin crawling. Save for you, the cafe worker, and the ticket taker, there really wasn’t anyone else there to take your mind off of why you were there.

Mind you, you supposed your grandmother wouldn’t have wanted you to be so anxious. She was always telling you that the only thing to fear was fear itself. There was no reason to be upset about someone sneaking up on you in a back alley. Why be worried when there is so much to do? Your grandmother probably would have been ashamed of her you for being so afraid… Oh, if she was here right now, she’d certainly hang her head in shame at what a wreck you were!

You slapped your leg again and let out a long shuddery breath. She wasn’t here right now. She would never be here now. No, Grandma was long gone. She had left this world with not much save a few precious belongings, which had been divided amongst the dwindling remaining family. She had always been a fair woman, if a bit harsh, and had seen to it that everything she owned went to the relative that had needed it most.

Jeremy, the eldest of your father’s family, was left her library. She had books collected from all around the world, in all sorts of languages in all states of being. In her collection was a series of bibles that had been out on display for all to see. Of course, her personal copy of the King James was by her bedside, but the display of bibles had been left to the eldest to learn from. Having been a man of God, Jeremy had been grateful about what had been left to him.

Amanda had been left in charge of the manor. The manor was truly an incredible estate, sprawling with unkempt wild gardens and a weird mish-mash of architectural styles to come together into a rickety castle of windows, arches and spires. It hadn’t seen much care in the final years of Grandma’s life, but it was still nothing to scoff at. Having struggled with obtaining a divorce from her overbearing husband, Amanda had been glad to finally have a place to call her own, to start a new life.

The youngest, your father, had been left with one allotment. A lump sum of money, the only remnant of the wealth the family once held onto. Years of the late Grandpa’s cunning business ventures and bold moves in the stock markets had led to quite a bounty to be had. However, once Grandpa had passed, much of his money was donated to local charities, with the grim remainders that were smuggled away left to his late wife for a safe life without him. Your father was glad for any money that could be had to support his coffee business.

The final recipient was a surprise for everyone. It had been none other than her youngest grandaughter, you. You were given the charge of your grandmother’s slave and closest companion, König. He’d been there as long as you could remember. Caring for Grandma in her twilight years, diligent and powerful, König had been her beloved slave. You had always found the gigantic man to be incredibly intimidating, what with his broad and deadly muscles wrapped around his tall, sturdy frame. Intimidating and always hidden behind an exectuioner’s hood. If one had thought to question the power in such a form, any doubt would have been quelled by the firm resolve held in those tired eyes. One had to question what lay beyond those eyes, what thoughts he had, what history lay behind him, who the slave really was. If there was one thing König was, though, it was loyal. Despite his biological tendency towards violence and the battered scars of past battles decorating his arms like medals on a soldier's chest, he was the gentlest and most caring man towards Grandma. You were absolutely terrified of him.

König, as he had been officially named, had done everything for Grandma Tweak without a single bat of his eyelids. He had been there to get her groceries, prepare her food, feed her and go so far as to wash her in the final years of her life. He had taken these burdens with pride and held his head high. He followed your fiery grandmother everywhere she went, taking care of personal matters and ensuring the elder was safe at all times. Grandma had supposedly died in his arms as he was reading her passages of the bible before bed.

However König, for all his care towards your grandmother, had not been one to extend any of his hospitality towards anyone else he came across, family member or otherwise. In fact, on your last visit to your grandmother’s home (roughly five years ago, if you counted correctly), you had been slammed against a wall for daring to disturb her during an afternoon nap. You had been seconds away from being torn to shreds when a small bell had pulled König away to stand behind your grandmother, who scolded you softly for making such a ruckus. You had wanted to argue that calling her for tea was not a reason to be thrown into a wall, but had simply stayed quiet, and accepted your punishment.

For the rest of the visit, you had been (understandably) nervous around König, who snarled if you so much as took a step out of place. Your grandmother had let it happen, and waived off your  father’s urges to call off her dog. He tried explaining that you were family. She had giggled, and replied, “Family means nothing in the eyes of vultures.”

You had been desperate to get your father to sell on the slave when you learned of your grandmother’s will, but your father had been keen on the extra pair of helping hands around the shop. Indeed, it also helped to deal with an ongoing issue within the cafe, which had led to many conflicts with the customers.

You knew that you couldn’t control who you were, or who you turned out to be, but you still couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly guilty about how you had turned out. After you had started presenting as an omega omega, customers had been eager to see what they could get away with. Some had taken to mocking you, others turned to flirting with you, encouraging you to run away with them. Others had taken to scenting the cafe, becoming violent towards other customers, and on one occasion attempting to pin you down to mark you. After that incident, you had been forced to work alongside your father, who had been less than pleased to be at the front counter. Your father was much more inclined to work in the back-end of the cafe than to be forced to work with customers, and had made sure that you knew of his displeasure at every waking moment.

Indeed, life had started to become a sort of living hell for you now. You were constantly on edge around customers, barely had enough money and time to go to the pharmacy to get scent represent medications, and you were forced to endure the wrath of your father whenever you so much as clinked a glass. The one light in your life also had suffered, as your mother had fallen ill with a disease that your father couldn’t cure with over-the-counter pain medications.

You knew that if your father had more time in the back and away from you and customers, he would surely have more time to help your mother. So thus, if an extra pair of (unpaid) hands was what it took to ease up on the workload, your father was glad to jump at it. In the end you had little say when you were forced to inherit the bodyguard that had once looked over your frail grandmother.

Thus, this led to you being sat where you were, where you prepared to hand over documents to ensure that König was taken into your care. This entire exchange was what brought you to be sat out on a wooden bench, freezing and sneezing away while you waited for a delayed train to arrive and deliver the one person you’d hoped you’d never had to see again. And because your father refused to leave the cafe, he’d sent you in his stead. So there you sat, waiting and praying the train never arrived.

In the end, the wait for the train had proven to be far less painful than you’d expected. Being lost in thought, you’d shot nearly five feet in the air when you heard a loud tolling of a bell, then the low roar of an incoming train. The heavy clunking and chuffing of the wheels grinding on the tracks groaned to a painful halt in front of you. The doors of the carriage opened like a can to let out a stream of passengers fluttering by. You winced from the sound, stiffened up as the small throng of people piled out of the train and onto the platform, buzzing around you like blackflies, shooting you stinging glares as they passed you by.

In the end, you were left with three people standing in front of him. Two men dressed in grey suits were situated on either side of a tall, looming beast of a man. His face was encased in a ferocious mask, and he’d been stripped down to only a pair of dirty canvas pants held up by a hemp rope. One of the men in suits stepped forward, calling your name.

You nodded, trying but failing to suppress a particularly violent tic in your neck.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. We offer our condolences upon the death of your grandmother, Andrea Bower. However, we are glad to announce that you are now a proud owner of one König. Please understand that there are some papers for you to sign before we can let you go. And, of course, we do believe there are some payments to be made,” the first man said and stood back.

You handed them the briefcase. They opened it to examine the contents, and after a cursory glance they nodded and shut it with a click. They looked back to you with twin barren expressions. If you weren’t so nervous, you might have been able to strain yourself to describe their faces as smiling, but as it was you couldn’t read anything past their dark sunglasses. They passed you a leash that had been fastened to the muzzle of the slave, and the other patted his back.

“Please understand that as Andrea did not leave much to König, so we had to take back many of the items that König once ‘owned’. The only objects legally listed under König’s name are a mask, his personal files, and your grandmother’s diaries and paperwork. These will be brought to your home by tomorrow evening.”

The other man handed you a card, “If you have any further questions or concerns, please call your local Slave Department Headquarters for advice.”

You nodded. The man waved over his shoulder as he turned to walk out the door.

Left there on the station, alone again (aside from the other aforementioned staff), you were left holding König’s leash. With nothing left to do, you figured you needed to go home. You expected some resistance from König, but the man simply followed behind you like a dark shadow. You tried to ignore what you presumed to be König’s glare, and fished out your wallet. You had a little bit of cash, the remnants of your birthday money, then looked back to König’s (lack of) shoes. There was no way he could be comfortable walking home with just a mask and pants. No, you couldn’t let that happen.

You made your way onto the street when a sudden breeze had you shuddering. You turned back to look at your new slave. 

At that moment, with you looking at König shivering in the autumn  breeze and you tucking your jacket around you, you saw a man discarded by society. Maybe he was taken off the streets after being unable to pay for his identity card, maybe he was sold into slavery. Maybe, you shivered, he was born into this life. All you really knew was that this man had suffered enough. You couldn’t hurt him.

So thus, instead of listening to your father, you decided that you would do your best to take care of König. You turned to him shyly.

“So, you’re probably really cold. I’m cold at least. So… I’m going to get you clothes, okay?” you said as confidently as you could manage. Your father had always told you that you had to be strong in front of your slaves. Had to show them their place.

König didn’t respond, and you were left awkwardly holding the leash and shuffling from side to side in the cold. You tried to stand still, but quickly broke from the glare when a car horn startled you. You sighed and accepted defeat. This wasn’t a great start, but it was the start you got. You huffed and spun on your heel to lead König out into the small town.

Once you both were on your way, you got a chance to take a good look at König. This new mask on his face was somehow worse than the one he usually wore. He looked like an insect now. The eyes were a cavernous black, not even the blues of his eyes being able to find light in there. The rusted metal tube from his mouth was covered in a fine grate, looking almost like some crusted proboscis. When he moved, his bones twitched and stretched under his thin paper skin

He was your grandmother’s shadow, now yours. You could feel him following behind you as you walked through the streets. He haunted you as he moved. You felt like if you let go of the leash, you’d fly somewhere far away. Maybe somewhere nice and warm. Maybe somewhere where slaves were outlawed. You could fly away and never deal with König or your father or mother or anyone. You would be free.

The thrift store came up sooner than you expected. Had you really been so lost in thought? It’s a wonder you even made it. A part of you wondered if König had guided you here, but that was impossible. König had never been here before. Hell, had he ever left your grandmother’s side? You didn’t think so. It didn’t seem right.

The bell twinkled as you walked inside with a sneeze and a shiver. This was not a safe place. Only a thin layer of glass covered the antique knife set on display, and there were rows upon rows of clothes to get lost in. You had to be on your guard here. With that in mind, you grabbed the nearest basket and brought König over to the largest size of clothing you could find.

“You can’t go out in fall like that,” you muttered. You shook your head and dropped your hands to your side, limp and vapid. You took in a deep breath before turning to König.

“Let’s get you some clothes,” you offered, “it’ll be safer for you that way.”

König stood still. You felt so terribly small compared to this giant man, but you had to be brave. You had to be strong. So thus, you threw a few large shirts into the plastic basket, followed by a couple of pairs of pants, a jacket or two, and some socks and boxers. It was hard to find things in König’s size, but you were happy when you looked at your basket. But it wasn’t enough. You looked at König’s feet and frowned. You’d need to do something about that. How his feet weren’t already frostbitten was a wonder. 

You guided König over to the shoe section and glared at the unimpressive selection of footwear. The best you could find was either a pair of  red crocs, pink wellingtons, or a very heavy set of workboots. Crocs and wellingtons wouldn’t be enough to insulate König’s feet in the cold, nor would they look professional in a cafe. With a sigh, you bought the roughened work boots. You could imagine König taking these massive boots and using them to smash your head in. Shuddering, you came to the checkout and placed the clothing items on the counter. The cashier looked at you, and then followed the leash in your hand all the way up to König. She silently nodded and scanned the meagre selection you’d been able to gather. The steady beeping of items passing the scanner and being tucked into a bag was the last thing you cared about. You were far more worried about how König stood over you so hungrily.

You gulped and grabbed the bag quickly before hurrying out of the store, accidentally tugging on König’s leash along the way. You didn’t even notice how you were gasping for air once you burst out of the store. You sheepishly looked up at König. You grimaced and whispered a small apology before you turned ahead for the long walk home. You were careful to not tug on the leash anymore, or at least as much as you could be. König seemed like he was still adjusting to the new boots. You tried your best to hurry home, occasionally glancing up and startling whenever you’d lock eyes (or so you supposed, it was a bit hard to see his eyes under the muzzle).

You carefully led the man through the corridor of streets and houses. You’d lived her your entire life but you felt like you could ever really relax. You would jump at every car horn, you’d shudder when someone talked too loudly around you. You were terrified that your scent would attract someone wicked to your front door. You tried to move quickly to not let your scent really linger in any one area, but there was only so much you could do when you were forced into a coffee shop. As you neared the store, you tried to contain your urge to just book it and leave König behind in the dust.

It took ages to get to the cafe. The sun was about to duck beneath the horizon by the time you walked through the front door of your home. This small little coffee shop was probably the only place in the whole city that you could come close to calling home.You were here more than you were in your own room. If nothing else, at least you liked the coffee shop. Day and night, soothing music played through crackling speakers in the corners of the room. It was a nice, cozy cafe. This little shop had become your own little slice of paradise, and hell.

You were able to take in a deep breath, taking in the warm smell of spices and baked goods. Everything was quiet. All was right in the world.

You turned to König with a smile.

“Well, welcome home I guess,” your smile faltered as you looked at his blank mask.

You looked around the room and took it all in. Now that you had König, everything seemed different, but just the same. Now that König was here, you could have someone dust the rafters after work. Your dad was always harping on you to get it done, but even with a ladder you couldn’t possibly reach. You tried to explain that you were an omega, and omega O at that, but your father wouldn’t have it. He swore up and down about it, but there was nothing he could do to change your biology.

You were looking at the rafters when you heard a series of thuds coming from behind you. You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise as you turned to face the opening door.

Your father looked König up and down with a frown. He ran one hand through his full beard and looked at you.

“What’s this?” he asked gruffly.

“I got König from the train station sir,” you offered hopefully.

Your father glared at the bags in your hands.

“I got him some clothes,” you explained nervously, “I just thought he needed to look presentable for the cafe.

Your father narrowed his beady eyes, but he gave you a curt nod.

“Good thinking,” he grumbled, “but still, the money comes out of your paycheck. König’s your responsibility, not mine.”

You nodded shakily as your father made his was across the floor to stand in front of König. He glared at the mask before turning to you.

“What’s with this?” he raised a meaty hand to König’s mask.

“I didn’t put it on,” you furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at König, “I think they put it on him when they were transporting him.”

Your father slipped a hand into his back pocket and gave König a once-over.

“Whelp, he’d better do his job,” your father shrugged, “I’ve had it up to here with those sick fucks coming into the cafe.”

You nodded along. For once, you couldn’t agree more with your dad. Ever since you’d presented your tertiary gender, you hadn’t had a day of peace. Everyone seemed like they wanted a piece of a newly presented omega O. It was just unfortunate that you were on the receiving end of it all.

Your dad reached up and grabbed König’s chin, turning him side to side before plucking at hsi shirt with a grunt.

“Is something wrong?” you asked as you watched your father unclip König’s leash.

“He just seems… Different,” your dad muttered, “smaller. Did they do something to him? He looks like a scrawny wimp now. You sure he can manage to take care of you?”

“I mean, I think he must’ve lost a little weight after grandma died,” you offered, “König was always really close to her.”

“Too close, if you ask me,” your father added as he stepped back. He put his fists on his hips with a frown. “You’d better go get him settled in. You’re both up early tomorrow. And König,” your father’s eyes narrowed to mean slits, “don’t fuck this up.”

König gave him the slightest nod, but it was enough to satisfy your father.

“You go get your room ready, alright?” your father started up the stairs as you squeaked.

“My room? Isn’t König getting his own room?” you asked.

“What?” your father cast you a glare over your shoulder, “and put him where? There’s no more space.”

“But don’t we have the spare-”

“No.”

You watched silently as your father plodded back up the stairs. He slowly trudged up and out of view, leaving you alone with the buz of the heater and the smell of burnt coffee beans.

“So, that’s my dad,” you said, shuddering and turning around to look at König, “I guess he hasn’t really changed much since you last saw him.”

You looked up at König and frowned. You couldn’t really see much in this lighting. Maybe tomorrow you’d get König to change a couple of the lightbulbs. With the thought in mind, you fumbled around in the dark to follow your father up the stairs, only stopping briefly to flick the lights off once you reached the top.

You slowly made your way past your father’s room and to the kitchen. You looked at König and then at the fridge.

“Do you want something to eat?” you asked.

König stared at you blankly.

You nodded and turned ahead to your room, “I’ll get us something later then.”

You made your way to your bedroom without another word. Once inside, you glanced around the cramped room before looking back at König.

“Do you want to sit down?” you asked softly. “It’s okay to sit. I know you’ve been on your feet all day.”

König didn’t look at you. You didn’t think he even heard you until he lowered himself to lightly perch on the very end of your tiny bed. You glanced at your bed, and then at König. 

Without another word, you carefully pulled out a file from under your jacket and flipped it open. The first pages seemed to be detailed notes of König’s body. From the looks of it, König was only about five years older than you. With the way he looked, you’d thought he was at least a decade older than that. You glanced at the next set of stats. At the very top it listed König’s height, a startling six foot ten that completely dwarfed you’s meager frame. You looked down at your twin size mattress again. It wasn’t like König could sleep on the floor. You could, but you didn’t want to do any more damage to your already aching back. This room was crammed as tightly as it could be. The wardrobe at the foot of your bed only had just enough room to open enough to squeeze into the drawers and the table and chair to the left of your bed served a dual purpose of being both a desk and a nightstand. It was so packed in that you couldn’t imagine where König could possibly fit in.

You looked around and bit your lip. The ground was cold and hard. You internally cursed your father for not just setting up a cot in the stockroom at the very least, but it was of no use. You figured you’d just have to get used to König very, very, quickly.

You turned to said man, and stared at his heavy mask. “Hey, um, I’m going to take that off, ok?” you said and stood to face König.

You leaned in and tried to undo the fiddly clasps. There were so many hooks and rings and clasps and buckles; it was ridiculous. How did they even put this on in the first place? Why did they put it on? König had never been muzzled by your grandmother, even though he was an alpha. You never understood how brave she was, but you admired it anyways. If König could be good with your grandmother, then maybe you could trust him without a muzzle too. You let out a little harrumph and crawled onto the bed behind König to continue. God, it was complicated even from this angle! You shook your head and continued using your nimble fingers to undo the straps, wincing as you saw the red imprints they left behind. You finally managed to make a breakthrough and returned back to standing in front of König.

“Nearly there!” you chirped and continued to fiddle away. You cursed under your breath when you accidentally made a strap tighter and hurriedly undid it with a muttered apology. You had no idea why they would have this on so tight. Something wasn’t right about this.

You gave a final yank and winced when the final buckle was undone. The mask was now splayed open like a pair of perverse butterfly wings, still was held firmly in place. Your face slowly dropped in horror. There’s no way… That would just be too much…

“Did they… Did they glue this on?” you whispered, but König shook his head ever so slightly. He hesitantly raised a weathered hand and gestured at his jaw underneath the mask.

You were a bit confused and looked under his jaw. You could really barely see what you were doing in this light. You gingerly traced your fingers along his neck but didn’t feel much besides a greasy beard and tough skin. You pulled back and hummed. You were so confused. What was König trying to tell you? You gripped the mask firmly and pulled hard. König was wrenched forwards but pulled back on the post beside him. You put a foot up on the bed to pull back harder, and grunted with effort. Why was this mask on so fucking tight?

You let out another grunt but stopped when König let out a low, growling moan. “Shit, right. Sorry König,” you whispered and stepped back. You put a finger on your chin and hummed again. “What the fuck is keeping that thing on if it isn’t glue?” you paled, “Oh my God do they stitch it in place?”

König shook his head, again gesturing to his jaw. You clucked your tongue and checked König’s jaw again. You looked closer, closer and closer until you gasped. You saw a small set of straps firmly embedded in König’s jaw. A thin line of blood was flowing out from when you’d pulled on the mask.

“Your jaw… You can’t even open your mouth with this on, can you,” you whispered and König bobbed his head, jabbing the straps in further.

You turned to rummage through your shelves for a bit. You grinned when you came across a pair of scissors and turned back to König. 

“I’m gonna be as gentle as I can be here,” you whispered and carefully moved the scissors under the strap.

König tensed, but he held still as you managed to snip the strap off. You carefully tugged the barb out of König’s jaw, hissing as it kept coming out. In total, you estimated the barb to be at least an inch long. You shuddered at the sight.

König shuffled and leaned his face to the other side so that you could get a good view in the yellow-orange light. It was easier the second time, but you still winced as you pulled the barb out of his jaw. You’d have to get the medicine kit in the bathroom after this for sure. 

Despite the resistance, the straps in König’s jaw were now off and the barbs were out. Evidently, this was some primitive way to force König’s jaw tightly shut. yYu supposed König wasn’t meant to have the barbs so deeply buried in, but you had a stronger feeling that König didn’t give a damn. The fact that he hadn’t even winced once through the entire walk home blew your mind.

With König’s jaw now able to open up, you were finally able to pull the mask free. You pulled it down, and stared in horror at what was inside the mask. Right where König’s mouth would be was a short metal pipe. The inside was caked with what looked like mouldy food. Even from at arm’s reach you gagged at the smell. You rushed to the bathroom and rinsed it out, feeling more than a bit sick as you pushed your fingers down the pipe to get all the gunk out

You held the mask in your hands and shook your head. After a minute, you looked up in the bathroom mirror. Your eyes looked puffy. When you touched them, they felt wet and sore. At some point you must’ve been crying. When did you do that? You looked down at the mask in your hands. Slowly, ever so slowly, you raised the mask up until it covered your face. In the mirror, you looked like a monster. You looked so frightening that it was hard to remember that there was a human under all of it. You stared in the mirror, debating if there really was a person under the mask after all.

Konig Dump

Konig Alternative Universes

A/B/O Sci-Fi Slavery

[thisuserislilsilly]

Summary: As your work as scribe-lawyer in Cardrean intensifies, both you and Xavier can't get each other out of their heads. This is bound to end badly

Genre: Drama/fluff/slice-of-life/SMUT/ DUBIOUS CON/NON-CON

TW: Foul language, violence, usage of drugs, DUBIOUS CON/NON-CON/TOXIC RELATIONSHIP/READ AT YOUR OWN RISK BE CAREFUL

Pairing: You x Xavier (Cardrean gang member)

Goblin tag squad: @cardinalcanis @finchly-tintinnabulation @artemisareia

@echo-of-damnation @meervalv0 @jaghatai-khock

@druidwolf21 @beckyninja @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@absynthe-mind @sylestine-redacted @saintsylestine

@xx-rabidpossum-xx @justeverythingnothingelse

Prev

Hate to love you

The incident of that accidental meeting with the High Axe had slipped from your mind under the piles of work you still needed to do. For as much as you had convinced yourself those kind of documents and ceremonies wouldn't be a common thing for you from now on, it seemed as so the Concord had gotten an eye on the fact that your peace treaty with the two gangs had been one of the few events that hadn't ended I a bloodbath between the two sides; they hadn't even gotten any more complaints about that subject since your intervention in it, which meant that slowly but surely more and more peace negotiations and signings of deals started to come by your desk on the Tower, to the point you had reluctantly accepted your fate of dealing with the "lowlives" of the gangs from now on.

The job had left you with one upside though, more free time for yourself since your new position left you with so much stress on your shoulders. That day you had found yourself lying in bed, reading some data slate about the Yarish trade wars that had occurred about two millennia ago because you had to understand the trade of said hallucinogenic flower for an incoming arrangement you needed to settle between the Houses of Nobles that handled the "legal" distribution of the drug. It was kind of interesting, despite the crude and touchy subject of your reading; the First Yarish trade war lasted six brutal years of nothing but combat over who controlled the cultivation and distribution of the psychoactive plant, yet the aftermath with the involvement of the Concord to legalize the plant and control the distribution rights allowed for Yarish to become some sort of cornerstone in their culture. The plant passed to be currency, part of their meals or ingredient in their dishes, at some strange point it became a reflection of Cardrean people just as much as any other sacred item or folklore tale, something that was entirely theirs.

You were already by the sixth slide of the datasheet, the one with a particularly raw holopictures of the riots and actions of the four gangs, when you heard a knock on the door. Sighing, you grabbed whatever shirt you had close to the bed, disregarding the formal robes of your profession and getting some skinny pants to wander around the house.

"Coming!" Your voice came slightly deeper than your normal tone due to how long you had been silent in your apartment

Adjusting your hair into a little knot in the back of your head, you nonchalantly opened the door without too much attention as to who was waiting from the other side; you thought it was Esmah, your friend who you had agreed to meet up later to go to a local disco, arriving early to maybe gossip about the cute guys she had met in her job or one of the million of events that could happen in the trains connecting the sectors of the Hive. Although the silence and sudden burst of energy that came from the other side made your entire body to experience goosebumps.

Without as a hello, Xavier pressed his whole body in the door as soon as you unlocked it; the Axe had a smile upon his face, his yellowed teeth showing in all of the little splendor they could have, there were a few ones missing at the back of his mouth due to the countless fights he had been on his life. Something that could and should had put out of your mind the idea of being close to him, but you couldn't lie...the broad shoulders and chest compensated whatever bad hygiene due to the Hive's conditions he could had.

"I missed you" He said in a whisper, helping to pick you up and not letting go.

You noticed the change, how the help turned to be possession, to be a prison that locked you in place like a predator would corner their prey to the last moment; in a blink of an eye he kissed you, deeply, introducing his tongue on your mouth and moving it at every inch of your inside. It was good, too good for your mind to connect the dots and know this was wrong, but you couldn't pull out, not yet, you wanted to be tasted just a bit longer.

He advanced on you, pinning you to the wall right next to the door, slamming it to have some privacy and then starting to pry upon your clothes. He hadn't even said hello, not even a hint of just preparing you for it; it was so raw you were left there standing speechless as your top flew across the room, then your bottoms with a guttural growl coming from his throat. He persisted in the kiss every time you tried to pull away to collect your mind and your clothes.

His head started to go lower, kisses coming with some bite in them, like he was just one of the many beasts of the world and wanted to have his way with you; that unstoppable force, that acknowledgement of the inevitable washed over you and gasps escaped from your mouth. His name was a prayer in your lips, a contradiction that wanted to make the man stop but also encouraging him to go deeper and go hard on your pussy. Hands tangled with all of the hair you could grasp and directed the man to your most sensitive areas; he did not needed an indication, a word of encouragement or anything else.

You felt the man yank you by the thighs, how his face completely buried itself in your lower body and then the most hauntingly painful bliss you could've imagined came to your nerves. He wasn't pleasing you, he was pleasing himself with bites, with his nails digging into your skin and drawing some blood, how he unceremoniously introduced his tongue in the most unapologetic and invasive way possible. It was in the blurry line between pleasure and actual pain, you felt your body torn in two as you wanted to have some moment of gentleness, of kindness, by the Emperor all you wanted to ask for was a second to collect your feelings and if this was in any shape or form right, if this was something you should had been pushing off from you and going for a gun.

It was not romantic, but neither was done in a respective way; the way he growled, he gasped for just enough air to have in his lungs but not letting too much time pass as to make the feelings go away, how he still had certain boundaries only known to him that he did not cross. It was caring, in a twisted sort of way, because, you realized, that was the only way he knew how to do it.

"XAVIER-!" You finally screeched, breathless and exhausted

"Shut it, you know you wanted this to happen" He finally pulled away, looking up at you like a emberhound ready to pounce "You wanted this too, since the first moment you saw me, since I couldn't stop appearing in your dreams, come on, just admit it so we can stop pretending and just do it!"

His voice was deep, breathless as he stared you up and down, biting his bottom lip just at the sight of the mess both of you were at that moment. By the Throne he hadn't even started with you yet it already felt much more than any other experience he ever had with others; High Axes weren't exactly "adepts" at having sexual encounters with each others and had way too many codes for basically anything that could amount to relationships; his previous relationship with a Sister, although way too intense, it had meant merely a transactional relationship for the woman, she just needed to get pregnant as to carry the next in her "lineage" and basically had forced the intercourse to happen with him for then later completely ditch Xavier as soon as that rush was over. But you....you were real, you felt it when he touched you, your body recoiled, moved, reacted to his every move that had been learnt by his past experiences; he had treated you like just another opportunity to have a relationship, but you were genuine.

That, that was different. Gentle, delicate, meaning no harm to him or wanting to take advantage of anything he could be of use.

"I..." He blinked, the realization of your recoil sent his thoughts on a turmoil

"Just get out...." You mumbled, then grasping at some internal valor you threw a pillow at him "Get out!!!!!"

Xavier didn’t move at first. Not when the pillow bounced off his chest, not when your voice cracked with the heat of fury barely keeping your tears at bay. He just stood there, a statue of muscle and rage and want, breathing hard, eyes blinking in rapid succession like something in his head had misfired and he was only now registering the full blow of how you had taken his advances.

Now he looked small. Not weak, but disarmed. And that made you even angrier, because you could feel your body still buzzing from his touch, still aching in all the wrong ways, still begging in the most shameful corners of your mind for more; seeing him so confused just reflected the inner war within you, the one over why had you liked and wanted this.

He opened his mouth, shut it. Opened it again.

“I-I didn’t mean to…” he mumbled, voice far too soft, as if the thing he had just done was a spilled drink and not a boundary torn apart.

You grabbed the nearest jacket within reach and shoved it into his chest. “I said get out.”

Xavier stumbled backward a step, gripping the jacket, jaw clenching like he was about to bite through it. His eyes searched yours again, but you had nothing left to give.

“Fine,” he spat, turning on his heel like a kicked dog trying to act like he hadn’t been hurt.

The silence after was unbearable. You stood in the middle of your room half-dressed, chest heaving like you’d just survived a firefight. You weren’t even sure what part of the last ten minutes hurt the most. Your body? Your pride? Your naivety, for thinking a High Axe could ever be anything more than a savage that only knew how to take or destroy things?

You sank to the floor, tears didn't roll, but you sat there thinking. And it was worse. Crying would've been easier. But instead, your mind kept replaying how good his hands had felt, how your mouth had opened on instinct, how a part of you did want him.

Toxic. Addictive.

You picked up your pants. Got dressed slowly. Carefully. As if reclaiming your space, your skin, one piece of clothing at a time. You went to wash your face and put on a different make-up; deciding to wait for Esmah outside of your apartment, in the hallway of the Hive spire's residential wing.

You sat on the railing like a wayward spirit, elbows on your knees, the glow from the security light above painting your cheeks pale gold. You’d redone your eyeliner sharper than before, lips painted plum to hide how bitten they’d been by him, or by you, you weren’t sure.

You just needed the night to not be about him.

The lift clanked into place five levels down and slowly groaned its way up, each stop echoing like a slow drumbeat to your rising tension. Then, finally, it arrived with a cheerful chime that mocked your mood, the doors parted to reveal Esmah in a fury of metallic pink and translucent layers.

She was all dressed in the finest and most stylish clothes she could afford for these sorts of meetings, with some luck she could had passed for a disgraced noble that had ended up with everyone else down there but was still clinging to the "diva" persona, her eyes scanning the floor and spotting you in an instant. Her smile faltered just a millimeter.

“You look like you wanna kill someone,” she said, stepping out and pulling you into a one-armed hug that smelled like orange mist and hair dye. “Please tell me it’s not a boy. Or worse...a gang boy.”

You said nothing.

“Throne spit,” she hissed, “it was him, wasn’t it?”

Your silence stretched.

“You said it was a one-time thing. One peace treaty and done. You were so proud. Honey you just shared apartments”

You finally looked at her, your lips twisting into something bitter. “Yeah. Well. Fuck that guy.”

She didn’t press. Just nodded. Wrapped her other arm around you, head gently resting against yours.

“Well,” she said after a moment, “that’s why I came with backup.” From behind her, like summoned spirits, two more figures emerged from the lift: Zeyna and Alrik, both from the local radio station in Sector Nine that helped your department on the Concord by connecting calls or just letting you choose a song for whenever the days stretched for eternity. Zeyna looked like she’d been born under a disco ball and Alrik was already chewing some strange spice that made his teeth glow blue.

“We’re going to burn that memory out of your miiiiiid,” Esmah said flourishing the last word, gently grabbing your wrist. “Come on. You need noise, lights, and three drinks none of us can’t pronounce.”

You didn’t protest. You let her pull you down the corridor, past sleeping units and neon graffiti that still smelled like ozone. At the corner, she tugged a small chrome mirror out of her bag and handed it to you.

“Look at yourself,” she said. “Say it.”

“Say what?”

“You’re too good for him.”

You stared at your reflection. At the sharp eyeliner, the hollowed cheeks, the faint red marks near your collarbone.

“I’m too good for him,” you repeated, though your voice didn’t quite believe it yet.

“Damn right you are.” Esmah gave you a wink. “Now let’s go let the bass scramble your brain before you start romanticizing this crap.”

The walk to The Spiral Dead was fast, filled with too-loud conversation and the occasional bump from passing late-shift workers ending their cycles. The club was carved into the bones of an old elevator shaft that had collapsed centuries ago and been repurposed into something far too alive for its rusted surroundings.

By the time you reached the threshold, you could already hear the pulse, low, hypnotic, like the party had started hours ago and you were just barging in the middle of it. The line outside twisted down the block, people wrapped in work attires, or with old cloth that had been used too many times to retain their original color, or cybernetic implants almost as big as the person was, cybernetic eyes gleaming under the violet lights scanning the line or whatever their augments were displaying in their brains. You realized, slowly, that this was part of the Tech Lunatics territory.

Esmah turned to you just before the bouncer waved you in.

"Here's your pills hun" She passed you a tablet with four blue pills, no label in the package nor it's content

"I'm not sick" You raised an eyebrow as if it was obvious

"Because of the frequencies bestie! The frequencies" Alrik rolled his eyes "We don't want ya to lose your pretty ears to some internal bleeding caused by the music right?"

"No..." You mumbled, swallowing one while closing your eyes, it tasted sour to your mouth

And it hit you.

Like falling into the Warp, or another dimension.

The sound wasn’t music in the traditional sense; it was a full-body assault, an orchestrated electronic chaos. A thousand synthetic layers dancing in impossible time signatures, twisting in and out of harmonies that shouldn't exist but felt like they did anyway. Somewhere, buried under the cyclone of sound, was a beat that moved like a heartbeat, as if the earth below your feet itself was alive and beating. The bass hit your eardrums like if it was going to smash them, not fully letting you register the decibels in which it was operating but making you feel like you just wanted to lose your body completely to the sound

A choir of distorted voices chanted nonsense phrases that made more sense the less you tried to understand them. Every few seconds, the tempo skipped a note or passed to a different time signature, like the entire club had skipped a beat in time, only to come slamming back in with double force making a mess of all your senses. Your stomach was about to spat everything you had eaten on the day to the ground, but the effects of "the pill" held you just in the threshold.

Lights carved impossible shapes across the thick industrial air, bouncing off bodies moving in ways that barely resembled dancing. A woman floated midair on magnetic stilts, rotating slowly like a satellite. Someone else was suspended in an exoskeletal rig that pulsed with strobe lights from under their skin. Above it all, projected against the spine of the club’s ancient shaft wall, was an AI-generated saint with a hundred twitching eyes and a mouth looping the word “Yes” in eight different tones. You could barely tell if this was real or a product of your euphoria-driven imagination trying to make sense of it all.

Esmah turned back toward you once you were inside, already swaying to the sound. She leaned close so you could hear her through the pulsating chaos.

“Welcome to the club, darling.”

Zeyna was gone, absorbed by the crowd like a splash of gloomfruit in a whirlpool. Alrik was busy bartering garish for drink with a man whose beard you perceived was literally on fire. Esmah took your hand again and led you down a spiraling catwalk that circled the club’s massive open pit, once a freight elevator shaft now totally repurposed to be a dancefloor. The further down you went, the more the air shimmered, thick with drug haze and sweat and some kind of incense that tickled your sinuses with the most exotic vapors you had ever inhaled.

You felt the second wave from the pill kick in about halfway down.

The first thing to go was your balance; not lost, but altered. Everything felt light. Your limbs didn’t move so much as they flowed. Sound slowed and then sped back up, colors bled into each other like melted rainbows, and your heartbeat synced with that impossible off-beat rhythm.

Esmah turned, her face split into a manic grin that you could see twice, once where it belonged, and again as a glowing echo hovering behind her head.

“You feelin’ it yet?” she asked, voice slurred by distortion and echo.

You tried to answer, but you were laughing.

And then the spiral opened into the main pit.

The lights flickered red and the crowd erupted as a fresh set started. The bass dropped like a planetary impact. The saint above began mouthing something new, it sounded like one of the prayers from the Lectio Divinitatus but so twisted and passed through so many filters that felt alien in your ears.

You grinned from ear to ear, lifting your arms to the air and completely allowed the flow to take you.

Bodies collided and broke apart in a tide of limbs and light, a sacred chaos where nothing mattered but motion and sensation. You moved with them, your mind peeled open like a flower caught in the radiation of some forgotten sun. People you didn’t know reached for your hands, your waist, your shoulders. You were just a comet streaking through their perception. Your plum lips twisted in an open grin, your laughter half-swallowed by the hum of the track, and you gave yourself over to the pulse entirely.

For the first time in what felt like years, your body belonged only to you.

There was no Xavier. No Concord paperwork. No fragile truce talks or inner wars. Just the floor under your boots, the heat of unfamiliar skin brushing past you, and the holy, terrifying freedom of letting go.

Esmah grabbed your wrist again at some point, pulled you against her so she could speak near your ear, but you couldn't or wouldn't make out a single word. A scream. Joyful. Feral. A shared euphoria. You screamed back.

The AI-saint above you split into four forms and then folded into one again, cycling through faces like shuffling a deck of faces your mind pictured as people you had known in your life passing by.

The intermission slapped you back to the present; rhythm slowing down, pupils reducing from the dilated state they were in. The DJ that up to now you had pictured as the artificial intelligent patron Saint of the club announced through a filtered voice module to take a breather for a couple of minutes; that was the chance to meet at least someone. With some luck you could find people to enrich your knowledge about the Yarish wars or other topic relevant to your work

At a table near the stairwell, three elders lounged beneath a pulsing shrine-light. One wore a cloak stitched with ghostvine flower embroidery, the purple fronds curling like smoke across her sleeves. Her hair was grey, her eyes aglow with dull implant circuits, and her hands moved constantly as she spoke to the younger woman next to her, in a binary code you did not recognized.

Beside them, a middle-aged man with a prosthetic spine and a breathing mask tapped a glass filled with something murky and red.

"See I told the kid that nochtmire (Omen, either good or bad in Cardrean language) was just not good for 'im; poor lowbright (idiot) got loomed (marked for death) by the Mutes probably"

You stepped forward before you could overthink it.

“Excuse me,” you said, your voice just loud enough to cut through the murmur. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m trying to understand what really happened during the Yarish Wars. Do any of you know about this...?”

The woman with the embroidery looked up, eyes scanning you like a hawk, pausing at the plum of your lips, the sweat on your brow, the Concord sigil still faintly etched into the side of your neural-link collar. Something flickered in her gaze, amusement, contempt, it was hard to say.

“Offbright,” she said, the others giggled

“I...am yes but I am a...uh...pen-dog,” You replied, remembering a term you heard someone call you before

That got a chuckle out of the man in the mask. “Finally, one of you admits it.”

The man gestured to the bench. “Sit then, Concord. Listen. Both your owners sonen love to tell different versions of it. None want to get butt-hurt by admitting their fuck-ups.”

You nodded, slid into the seat, and tapped your neural recorder just enough to save the audio discreetly, not transmit it.

You felt fingers suddenly crawling through your hair, like little serpents zigzaging between the strands and pulling you hard backwards, yanking you until you were looking up at Xavier features.

"She's my girl" He stared at the gentleman you were just talking to "Xa-" You groggily mumbled, still under the pill the concert had bystanders had given you "Shut it" He growled at you, his grip slightly tightening "I'm talking to the junt (weakling) fuck here"

The man with the breathing mask didn't flinch, his glowing eyes barely narrowed. The woman in the ghostvine cloak raised one brow, as if watching a drama she'd seen too many times to care for the ending. The younger woman beside her leaned back without saying a word, though her fingers subtly tapped against the table’s edge in that same strange binary rhythm.

Xavier stood behind you, his hand twisted into your hair like it belonged there, like you belonged to him.

“She's my girl,” he repeated to the elder man, voice low and drenched in threat. His other hand hovered near the blade holstered at his hip, thumb tapping against the latch.

You tried to speak, but your mouth felt numb, like it was under anesthetics. The pill still danced in your veins, colors swam at the edge of your vision, and sound was muffled, like you were half-submerged in deep water. But your body remembered. It remembered the pressure of his fingers, the way his breath smelled when he got too close, the jagged violence of his affection.

"What are you doing-?"

You tried to say it. It barely came out. The man in the mask gave a wet, rasping chuckle.

“One move and this whole place turns against you lowbright, don't be such a hothead.”

“You think I care?” he growled at the masked man. “I’ve killed before in rooms just like this. Danced in the mess after. You wanna sonen go?!?!”

“Xavier,” you said, throat dry, lips slow to form the word. “Let go. Please.”

His eyes darted back to you, and for a moment, just a moment, something human flickered there. He loosened his hold by a margin, the hand in your hair becoming a cradling touch rather than a grip. It was an apology dressed in ego, a gentleness wrapped in wrath.

You placed your hand on his wrist, pleading. Your voice still trembled when you spoke, but it came out this time, softer.

“It’s not what it looks like. I’m working, just listening. I don’t do these places unless there’s something I need to know. He wasn't telling me anything”

You saw the way his jaw twitched. The silent calculation. The push and pull between instinct and possession, rage and want. Xavier was trying to leave some room to believe you, to let go and admit he had gotten the situation all wrong.

“Just like that?” the younger woman at the table muttered, still tapping her rhythm. “Didn’t think you High Axes fell for collars.”

Xavier snapped.

He stepped forward, releasing your hair only to slam his fist into the metal table, hard enough to rattle every drink on it. Glass trembled. The old woman’s drink rippled into her clothes, she did a little jump as she looked at herself and then at Xavier.

“You wanna repeat that shit again, tin-head?” He barked, spit flying off his mouth, snarling like an animal. “You think you know what we ‘fall’ for? She’s mine. Not the other way around. So shut your vox before I rip the data-babble right out of it!”

Your breath caught instinctively. That sick, twisting part of you that responded. Not in agreement, not in disapproval. Because Xavier’s madness had gravity, and even as you recoiled, some fractured part of you wanted him to speak like that. To burn this whole club down for you. To tell everyone he wanted only you.

It was more potent than any hallucination the pill could ever give you.

You reached up slowly, standing now, moving between him and the table. You placed both palms against his chest, feeling the heat of him even through his flak jacket, the thundering of his heart.

“Look at me,” you whispered. “Please.”

He didn't. He just pushed you aside and you could see the moment where his fist did not connect with anything and the knee of the old Tech Lunatic went straight towards his stomach.

The old Tech Lunatic’s knee found its mark before Xavier’s fist ever swung, sharp, brutal, driving the breath right out of him. Xavier’s eyes went wide, his world narrowing to a single anvil of pain in his gut. He reeled backward, clutching his midriff, skin paling as the air rattled out of his lungs.

He staggered, off–balance for the first time, and one of the elders slipped in beside him, the young Lunatic planted a hand on his shoulder, her grip surprisingly firm, and shoved. Xavier pitched forward, his brow colliding with the edge of the metal table in a sickening crack. Glass shattered; liquid splashed across the floor in a slow, glittering rain.

He hit the ground hard, breathless, his cheek pressed against cold steel. For a heartbeat, the club paused, the pulse of the music slowed to a ragged heartbeat beneath the thud of his fall. There were mumbling, but not before the music resumed and everyone went back to their trance.

Your heart thundered so loudly it drowned out everything. They continued to kick him a few times before you couldn't stand it anymore and lunged at his battered body, raising your hands at the Techs. They stopped, spit to the fallen Axe and went to find another table to sit in.

You dropped beside him, barely aware of the spill soaking your knees or the ache in your voice as it tore from your throat.

“Xavier!”

He groaned, not words, just pain. The kind that didn’t have the dignity of noise. His face was smeared with blood and alcohol, a thin gash on his temple leaking red down into one eye. His hands curled reflexively into fists, but he didn’t lift them again. You grabbed the hem of your sleeve and wiped the blood from his eye, your breath shaking as you tried to coax him upright.

“Why did you come here?” you whispered, voice cracking. “Why like this, why now?”

Xavier chuckled...or maybe it was a cough. It sounded like something caught between the two.

“I’m not...I’m not good at this.” His voice was fading again. “Didn’t know how to say I am sorry without sounding like an idiot.”

Your hands shook as they rested against his chest, feeling the ragged thump of his heart beneath all the broken. And still, still, that awful part of you clung to it. To him.

You should have left him there. You wanted to. But instead, you brushed the blood from his eyebrow, pulled his head into your lap, and sniffed. He looked up at you again, dazed, the blood starting to clot at his temple.

“You...still mad?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you wiped with your thumb the blood falling on his mouth.

"Let me take you home"

Xavier blinked slowly, lips parting like he wanted to say something stupid again, maybe a joke, maybe another sorry; but the look on your face made him stop. He just nodded, weakly, and winced as you helped him sit up.

You stood with him half-limp against your side, his weight almost too much, but not enough to make you let go. Your arms wrapped around his middle, his shoulder pressed into yours. The closeness of your bodies made the tiniest blush to appear in your cheeks. His blood had soaked into your sleeve. You didn’t care.

You glanced over your shoulder toward the dancefloor where the lights had returned to full strobe, where bodies were back in a rhythmic trance, and where your friends were probably still riding their own chemical waves.

Esmah was dancing with someone whose arms had been replaced with two claws. Zeyna was perched on the catwalk railing, eyes closed, face to the fans. Alrik? Nowhere to be seen.

You could stay. You could tell them what happened. You could stay and shake Xavier off like the bad trip he was supposed to be. But instead, you turned away from them and toward the lift at the back of the club, dragging him with you.

He didn’t speak. His breathing was shallow, his skin hot with adrenaline and the last of the pain, and you could feel it radiating through your side. He leaned on you like he trusted you. Like you were his anchor, the one thing pulling him out of the bad life he had chosen for himself.

The elevator ride was slow. Claustrophobic. You pressed the override to your level and leaned him against the wall while the lift hummed and shook upward through the shaft. You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t.

But his hand found yours. Trembling.

You held it.

Because you were angry. But not enough.

Because you were tired. But not enough.

Because you still loved him. Too much.

When the doors opened, you pulled him down the corridor, past the flickering hall lights and rusted-out pipework, to your apartment. It wasn’t far but dragging him made it feel a eternity. He stumbled, groaned, leaned against you harder, but didn’t complain.

Your door unlocked with a soft chime, and you kicked it open with your foot, hauling him across the threshold like some cursed weight you couldn’t set down.

The door slid shut behind you with a hiss, sealing the world out.

Your apartment was quiet, dimly lit by the low amber glow of a wall panel near the kitchen. The silence hit you both like if the temperature in the ambience had dropped drastically, the only thing audible were the whistling breathing of Xavier chest.

He sagged against you, one last stumble making the two of you crash gently into the wall just past the doorway. You caught him again, hands curling under his arms, and for a second, just a second, his forehead leaned into the side of your neck.

Not a move like in the morning. Just a moment of raw exhaustion.

You steadied him with a hand at his lower back. The muscles there tensed beneath your touch.

“You need to sit,” you murmured, almost afraid to break the hush.

He nodded against your skin, the stubble on his jaw grazing your collarbone. His hand slid away from yours but not far, he kept brushing your fingertips like he wasn’t ready to let go entirely.

You led him to the couch, easing him down. His jacket clung to him in places with half-dried blood, and you grimaced as you knelt beside him, starting to unbuckle the thick straps. He didn’t stop you. He just watched, eyes soft and unfocused, like he didn’t believe this was happening.

You stripped the jacket off carefully and tossed it to the floor. Beneath it, the bruises bloomed in full now, dark and angry across his ribs, his side. You reached for the med kit under the coffee table and cracked it open, the scent of antiseptic filling the room in sharp contrast to the sweat and pill-haze still clinging to your skin.

As you patched the wound near his temple, he flinched slightly from the care you were giving him. Like it hurt more to be touched gently.

“You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, eyes meeting yours.

“I already tried that,” you said, not looking up. “Didn’t work.”

You applied another patch, slower this time, and his hand brushed your thigh, then stilled.

The moment stretched.

There was no music now to drown it out. No hallucination. No reason to pretend this was just another mistake waiting to happen.

“I didn’t come to the club to fight,” he said, barely audible. “I swear. I saw you there, and...something in me just snapped. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You looked up at him, the last of the gauze slipping from your hands.

“You don’t know how to handle anything,” you replied softly.

He looked ruined in that light. Not just physically. All those layers of anger, of bravado, stripped bare. Just Xavier now, in your apartment again, the same boy who never learned how to love someone without clawing at them or watching his back.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice cracking this time.

You didn’t answer. You just sat beside him, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, breathing the same space. And when he leaned into you, just slightly, just enough to make you feel it, you didn’t push him away.

You told yourself he might needed something to get his pain off from his mind. That whatever you may do now was to calm him down, to make him relax. It was a good excuse anyways, a measured lie whenever your hand slid past his thigh, traveling upwards to his member, which at your touch was starting to throb.

"Please...I.....-" He sighed, with the spark of a moan at the end of it

You had one eye inspecting his reactions, guarding yourself in case he became violent again; your hand was gentle, caressing, going up and down his shaft feeling the throbbing continue, his veins starting to get visible and palpable in your thumb. He relaxed, throwing his head back and moaning softly. It continued until the position bothered you enough to slide into your knees, pulling his pants even more down. The erection now was in full swing, some cum starting to flow to the tip of his cock.

"You're so...sonen gentle" He whispered, like cursing you for being so different.

It didn't take long until you had it in your mouth; pushing his cock down your mouth and into your throat; by the Emperor you wanted to feel him, to tear down the walls and convince yourself there was kindness inside of him, that there was some part of a gentleman still on that man's mind. The pace became faster and faster as you began to get lost in the moment too, wanting more of him, needing more of him, perhaps even handing him the same discomfort and pain that he had brought to you before; your hands gripping his thighs and pushing him harder and harder into your mouth, choking on it with so much relish.

Now he screamed, he wailed for you to stop, he became a moaning whimpering mess as you drained him of everything he had inside of him to the point the little strength he had after that bloody fight was completely lost and turned into a panting little man on your couch. His breath was hoarse and ragged, he could barely move his eyes to look at you, let alone speak. His eyes slowly drifted into closure, holding on to consciousness for dear life because he didn't want to leave you there as the one who had gotten revenge, the one who had gotten their satisfaction over the other. It was your vendetta.

You spat what you couldn't swallow, cleaned yourself up and stood up while seeing Xavier drift to slumber. You felt proud, satisfied, powerful...in all the worst way possible. You enjoyed this, at the end of the day this is what you thought you could get used to. This evil, this toxicity, that shroud of violence and death that followed the Cardrean everywhere he went.

As the night rush ended, slipping into your bed and slowly losing consciousness, an overwhelming sensation of comfort and peace overcame you when your body naturally started to shut down little by little to rest.

That peace would be what, years after, you would yearn for in another planet, another job, after you had proven to be a good scribe and pulled out of Cardrean. You will sigh as the day of the news about Xavier death will arrive at your station, in a tiny footnote at the end of the news datasheet of the day; he will die the way you knew his story would had ended, a high stake shootout will go wrong, he will drag himself up to the door of your apartment block and he will die there, his face serene and happy; looking at the sky, happy to have been able to pull you out of that world even if it meant losing you beside him.

That day would come soon, but tonight you rested, creating that memory for your future self, the one who will thank Xavier for the love, the action and the bad that you lived in Cardrean.

[ben-learns-smth]

I've seen a lot of these recently and I like the idea! my version of a 2025 bingo full of all the things I want to do or keep doing. key mindset while making this: plan 2025 like you like yourself. set goals like you know you're already enough

I'm gonna cross them off as I go and most of them are optional and guidelines. the only one I really have as set goals are passing my teacher training and getting a new passport & id (yay legal documents)

2025 is about graduating and having as much fun while handling that

the bingo as a list (left to right, top down):

get the book bird tattoo

go out every day before 3pm

2-3 workouts a week

dance to music in my room more often

teach the cats 1 more trick

take a sign language class again

swim in the sea 3x

go to many concerts

take a bouldering class

tidy & sort the basement

tall to doc about seasonal depression meds

learn 1 new skill

start volunteer work

donate my old binders

do some body painting thing

pass my teacher training exams

buzzcut again

new passport & ID

visit norwegian friend (in norway)

try a new ice cream flavour

bake a lot (1x a month at least maybe?)

read more books from flatmate's shelves

attend queer events more often

cross stitch stardew valley animals amap (as many as possible)

[donnalawliet]

Coffee or Tea? (Five x Derek oneshot)

I really didn't like the way they handled Five's "love story" in Season 4. And even though he would have been fine without a romance too, here's my version of a Five experiencing love with a human. Not with Lila, but with Derek, Five's CIA colleague. This is set post S3 and pre S4. This is my personal addition to the Season 4 fix it movement. And even though it's set prior to that last season, I still think it counts.

I mentioned under a post that I would rather ship Five x Derek than Five x Lila. So...Here I am, doing exactly that.

Thank you @tuttle-did-it , @ashes-and-starlight and @xx-blood-lemons-xx for the initial inspiration! I hope you like it, especially you, @ashes-and-starlight . (I‘ll enjoy your Five diner fanfic when it comes out 😊)

I also wanted to thank @lookingforhappy for the post explaining why Five being a member of the CIA didn‘t make much sense. I attempted to explain some plotholes that you mentioned 😅

One last thanks goes to @i-am-tardis-locked for listening to me rambling all day, like always.

Anyway, let‘s get going!

—————————————

Summary: After being stuck in a reset universe without powers or siblings, Five joins the CIA to keep an eye on his family. There, he meets Derek and is suddenly confronted with all kinds of things he hadn't faced in years. Some of them seem uncomfortable at first, but he learns to warm up.

——————————————

Stranded in a new timeline, without his siblings or powers, Five was forced to adapt. Luckily, he was used to doing that. His father had once complimented his ability to adapt and Sir Reginald Hargreeves wasn’t exactly known for dolling out compliments for everyone and everything. In the four decades he had spent in the apocalypse, adapting to his enviroment was equal to survival. That included no longer feeling guilty for raiding corpses or no longer being picky when it came to food. The apocalypse was by no means a five star restaurant. When he transferred to the Commission, he had to adapt once more. New manners, new job, new people.

But through all of this adapting, one goal had stayed consistent. To save his family from the impending apocalypse, to go back for them. Once he left the courtyard without his siblings though, still coming to terms with the fact that he had his arm back…his goal had to adapt as well. This was no longer about actively saving his family. It was about keeping them safe. They came above everything else, not him.

Reginald had taught them a few things that back then, none of the Umbrella Academy members thought would be useful.That included obtaining legal documents, without the legal part. In the Commission, Five had sometimes watched the legal department, how they fabricated fake IDs, court orders or other documents with ease.

And even though he was nowhere near that level, he was good enough. It took him about a week to create an ID, a birth certificate and a high school diploma. All of it was a lot of work. He sometimes had to break into buildings to add himself to their records, but he didn’t care. It would be worth it in the long run.

————————————

Attending college was relatively easy in comparison, bordering on boring. Five’s father had prepared them quite well for that level of learning and in the apocalypse, he had become an expert on math and quantum physics. So a lot of the lectures ended up just being a formality.

Instead of writing things down, Five occupied himself with looking up his family. Allison was in LA with her husband, daughter and Klaus. Luther had found a new place of employment, along with Diego, who had welcomed his first daughter with Lila. Five quickly wiped at his eyes as soon as he read the announcement in the online newspaper. As much as he wished to be an uncle, he couldn’t. Not just yet.

Five finished college in record time. He didn’t attend the ceremony, even though a part of him wanted to. Only the weak need praise to carry on, he remembered his father’s words. And he didn’t have time to be weak. He had a job to do.

————————————

Protecting his siblings required sacrifices and overcoming personal challenges. That was something Five had realised a long time ago. But when he sent his application to the CIA, that realisation hit him like a ton of bricks once more. he roughly knew what a job like that was like. It required absolute loyalty, going undercover, a physical and psychological examination. All of it reminded him of the Commission. He would have an employer again, be stuck in an office instead of enjoying retirement.

Upon receiving his acceptance letter and the request to move to Washington DC for his training, Five slowly walked into his bathroom to look in the mirror. His fake birth certificate stated that he was 18, but in truth his body had just turned 16. Upon looking at his reflection though, he didn’t see himself. He saw an old man, traumatised by years of isolation and lack of things like food or personal hygiene.

“It’s going to be okay“, he whispered to himself, though it didn’t sound very convincing, “As long as they’re alright…it will be worth it.“

————————————

Throughout his training, Five felt an odd sense of numbness. He expected to feel disgusted by how much it reminded him of his training at the Academy or Commission. But there was nothing of the sort. No sense of anger towards the profiler during his psych eval, which he passed with flying colours. He knew what answers he had to give in order to be left alone. Five remembered how much the Commission profiler had bothered him, how he had hated getting his deepest insides get revealed in astonishing detail, until he had learned how to adapt.

But he felt nothing. Neither the obstacle course, examinations by a doctor or profiler really bothered him. He just went through the daily routine, like a zombie with just one goal. There was no anxiety when his test results arrived nor joy when the other cadets celebrated upon passing them. In what felt like a blink of an eye, his training was over and he was assigned jobs. And that was when he met Derek.

————————————

When Director Ribbons had announced that he wouldn’t be working alone, Five had been hesitant at first. Even back in the Commission, he had always insisted on working alone. No partner to bother him or distract him from his plans. But while the Handler had accepted this violation of protocoll, the Director didn’t.

“You’re a new and promising agent“, Ribbons had told him, without offering Five a seat to sit down in, “And despite your maturity, a partner will do you good, I’m sure of it. On undercover missions, you may go on your own, but I don’t see a reason for it in the office.“

Five bit his lip and shifted slightly. He liked being able to wear a suit again instead of the uniform that showed his knees to everyone. In a suit, people were forced to take him more seriously in some way.

“Sir, while I understand what you mean“, he hated having to take on a polite tone like that, “I really do work better alone. I’ll produce good results.“

Five wasn’t a fan of the whole respect game. But in order to stay employed, he unfortunately had to treat his boss with some level of respect, despite being much older.

Ribbons looked him over for a moment. Sometimes, Five had the feeling that his boss saw more than just an agent, but he couldn’t quite place it. Despite his request, he shook his head.

“You’ll be working with a partner. Go to your desk, he’s already waiting for you.“

Five had no other choice but to obey that order. If he protested more, it could result in another psych eval or unnecessary questions. So he simply nodded and made his way towards his desk, pushing the intrusive thoughts on how to quickly kill his boss out of his head. Ever since he had started to work at the Commission a few years ago, these thoughts refused to go away.

————————————

As soon as he entered his room, a young man stood up from his chair. If Five had to guess, he was only a few years older than himself, dressed in a dark green blazer, with a tie and light blue shirt underneath it. More casual than Five’s three piece suit, but still professional. His blonde hairstyle reminded Five a bit of the 1950s, but the glasses and soft facial features broke that illusion. Only a few seconds after entering did Five notice that he had been staring. His mind was really all over the place.

“I’m Derek Young“, his visitor eventually said after no introduction from Five came, “I’m your new partner, pleasure to meet you.“

He held out his hand to shake, a soft smile illuminating his features. Only then did Five regain his senses and shook his hand, making eye contact for the first time. He still wasn’t completely comfortable with touch, the sensation sometimes proved too much.

“Five, Hargreeves“, he replied, keeping it short and with no explanation on why he shared his last name with one of the most well known people in the world. Derek didn’t seem bothered by that cold introduction though, still smiling.

“Our boss told me quite a lot about you, Mr.Hargreeves“, Derek remarked while sorting through one of the files on the desk.

Five froze for a few moments. Not because of the first part of the sentence, he had heard that one many times. But never in his whole life had he been called Mr.Hargreeves by anyone. His siblings had called him Five, his father Number Five, the Handler and everyone at the Commission either those or Mr.Five on the rare occasion. But never Mr.Hargreeves. It didn’t feel like him, even though he was surely old enough to be called that. Still…it didn’t feel right.

“Please don’t call me that, Mr.Derek“, he told him, trying to keep his voice firm, but only being half successful. Five scolded himself for how weak he sounded. Why did a simple name break his mind?

Derek frowned for a moment, then shrugged like it was nothing.

“Very well. Is Mr.Five alright with you?“, he asked, almost carefully that time, as if testing out the waters, “Since you call me Mr.Derek.“

He had expected to not like that way of adressing him either. The Handler had called him that after all. And every time he thought of her, his stomach flipped upside down in not a good way. But surprisingly, Five felt oddly fine with it. Derek’s voice and body language was nothing like his former employer, there was no need to be alarmed in any way. He didn’t have to look up at him like he had always had to do with her and everyone else, they were roughly the same height. Five pulled himself out of his thoughts and shrugged.

“Sure, why the hell not. Do you know where in the building I can find a decent cup of coffee?“

The rush of caffeine always helped Five with distracting himself. No falling asleep, no nightmares, just work.

————————————

At first, Five had assumed that Derek would annoy him. He was much younger after all, there were still things like hope and life left in his eyes. His partner went to work with the genuine intention of helping others. He got Five coffee every morning, while he himself stuck with tea. And even though Five could never understand how one could prefer hot leaf juice over some roasted black coffee, he had to admit that Derek brought him some good coffee.

“Which machine do you go to?“, he asked one morning after taking his first sip, “No matter which part of the building I go to, all coffee tastes like absolute crap.“

Five wasn’t one for making small talk, so Derek was a bit caught off guard by the genuine curiosity. A light blush began to settle down on his cheeks and he cleared his throat a bit.

“I…I bring the coffee blend with me. I can give you the adress of the shop I go to, if that’s what you want, Mr.Five. It’s no big deal, I just thought you might enjoy it more. I can’t stand the tea they give out here either“, he replied and hid part of his face with his teacup.

For the first time in what felt like years, Five’s lip tugged upwards. It took him a moment to realise that he was smiling in  a genuine way, like an idiot. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop, a comforting warmth building up in his chest. He could barely remember the last time someone had genuinely cared about him in such a small way. Derek didn’t even like coffee, yet he brought a good blend of it to work, just so Five would feel a bit happier. The warmth in his chest moved upwards, settling in his cheeks in a similar way to Derek. He was blushing like a hormonal teenager, which he both was and wasn’t.

“Oh, I…Thank you“, he eventually managed to mumble, “That’s very kind of you. I’ll just…Go talk to our boss, he wanted something.“

Five quickly made his way out of the room, taking a few deep breaths as he leaned against the nearest wall. Ribbons didn’t even want anything, but he had needed an excuse to gather his bearings.

“Shit…get yourself together“, he whispered to himself, the taste of coffee still present on his tongue. And like every time he felt upset or overwhelmed, the last words of his former wife, Dolores, echoed through his mind: I want you to enjoy your life, Five. We had good years together, but it’s time that you learn to live without me. You fought so hard for your family, it’s time that you enjoy the results.

Five reached up as a single tear traced down his cheek, quickly wiping it away. He was a grown man, why was he so overwhelmed by this? He decided to avoid Derek for the rest of the day, he needed time to think.

————————————

A few weeks later, Five learned that if he wanted to, Derek could be just as sarcastic as he was. Ever since he had started working there, Susan had been a figurative pain in everyone‘s ass. But because she was a senior agent with a long history, almost no one dared say anything about it. One day, while waiting for their turn on the copier, she began to rant about all kinds of problems plaguing her. Five had to seriously focus on not snapping her neck, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Anyway, my son just introduced me to his boyfriend. Boyfriend?! He’s a man, how can he be attracted to another man? That’s not how it works!“, Susan exclaimed and looked at them, expecting nods or general confirming words.

Derek crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked her up and down. Five knew that look. He had given it to several idiots before.

“So you’re saying one should rather fall in love with a body than with a soul? That’s really shallow and sad“, he said and gave her a fake look of pity before grabbing the files from the desk next to the copier. While Susan still scrambled for words, Five turned towards Derek with surprise.

“Did you…Did you just…?“, he asked, lost for words for once. In response, Derek simply shrugged, a confident smile on his face.

“Somebody had to tell her, she was annoying me. Why, do you have a problem with that, Mr.Five?“

That last sentence had a certain edge to it, as if Derek was either scared or prepared that Five would say yes. However, Five shook his head almost immediately. He had been more surprised than anything else.

“No, not at all. Maybe she’ll keep her damn mouth shut for a few hours“, Five quickly deflected, still processing what had just happened. After that short conversation, they just continued with their day as if nothing had happened.

————————————

Later that evening, while reviewing his family’s files, Five’s thoughts began to wander once more. During the apocalypse, he had never really thought about his sexuality. He had Dolores, but she barely counted as a woman. He had never really felt the desire to have sex, he had more desired to just see a familiar face. Any human face, if he was being honest with himself. And the tough survival conditions didn’t leave much room to think about what he was attracted to. When he closed his eyes, he realised that he could see himself with a woman by his side just as easily as with a man.

And even though he knew how sex worked, the thought of himself having sex with anyone whatsoever left him disgusted. He vaguely remembered telling Klaus in 2019: What a disturbing glance into this thing you call a brain, when he had mentioned the topic.

Before his thoughts could go off the rails even more, Five pulled himself back to the present. He had to make sure his siblings were safe, that was why he had taken the job in the first place.

————————————

After a rather frustrating case that had taken weeks and almost made him bang his head against a wall, Five was exhausted, so was Derek.

“Would you like to catch some drinks later?“, Derek asked him as they both gathered their coats. It sounded so casual, in a way that Five could never do himself. In the last few years, Five had attempted to lower his alcohol intake, but he hadn’t completely succeeded in stopping completely.

“Oh, sure, but…I’m not a big fan of bars“, Five responded, sounding almost ashamed. He had gone to bars before, but had never been completely comfortable there. It had almost always been for work. He half expected Derek to decline as a result, mentally cursing himself for being so uptight. But surprisingly, that didn’t happen.

“That’s fine. We can go to my place, if you’d like. I don’t mind it, Mr.Five“, he said with a wink. That name had almost become a form of teasing that they used with each other. Five smirked a bit and put on his coat, a way of protecting himself from the cold November air.

“Lead the way, Mr.Derek.“

People had different types of reactions when they got drunk. Some got more angry and violent, others sad and melancholic, others happy and joyful. Five got more honest after a few drinks, dropping his walls a bit more. And after a few homemade martinis, he found himself relaxing a bit more.

“You’re quite nice“, he mumbled and took another sip from his glass, “Nicer than my family by a long shot. Why? What do you have to gain?“

Derek frowned and sat down on the couch next to him. His drinks had far less alcohol, so he was just feeling a bit tipsy.

“I’m not nice to you because I have something to gain, Five. Why would you think something like that?“ His voice got a bit softer, as if he felt that there was more behind that drunk question.

Five laughed in response, but it held no humor whatsoever. He was overwhelmed by all kinds of different feelings and thoughts.

“Because I’m a rude old man? Because I’ve never done anything to warrant friendliness from someone like you? You’re young, you could just ask for a transfer with someone who is…more like you.“ Five couldn’t care less that he had just hinted at his true age. If Derek left, it would just confirm his world view.

Derek blinked slowly as he listened to Five ramble. He couldn’t completely make sense of what he was saying, but asking would feel quite rude. So after a few seconds of silence, he set his glass down.

“You may come off as rude, yeah, but…That’s not who you are. Remember how you almost ripped Stacy’s head off because she called me a twink? You didn’t even know what it meant at the time“, Derek chuckled a bit and managed to get Five to smile as well, “I don’t care how old you are or how grumpy you can get without coffee. You deserve to be treated well.“

Five stared at him for what felt like hours, but was probably just a few seconds. He wasn’t even sure what his expression his face was making, he could be crying for all he knew. The last time he had felt close to that safe had been with Dolores in an underground bunker they had found.

He didn’t remember what came after, the alcohol sending his memory to nirvana. The next thing that Five knew, he woke up on a dark green couch underneath a knitted blanket. His head was pounding as if he was Zeus giving birth to Athena and the thirst was overwhelming. At the same time, the thought of moving was enough to make him groan.

“Shit…“, Five mumbled and lazily covered his eyes to avoid the sunlight. With it being November, that meant it must be quite late.

“Here you go“, he suddenly heard Derek’s soft voice right next to him. Slowly, Five moved his arm off his face and blinked up at him. The room was a bit darker now, thanks to the curtains. Derek was standing behind the couch so Five didn’t have to move his head too much, wearing his blue shirt without the tie or blazer. His hair wasn’t styled as neatly, it just looked fluffy and soft. But before Five could think about his hair further, his attention was drawn to what Derek was holding. A glass of water and a pill bottle, most likely aspirin.

“You’re my salvation“, Five mumbled and took both. The act of sitting up alone made him groan, but the feeling of cold water sliding down his throat made up for it. “What happened last night? After that…conversation we had.“

Derek cleared his throat a bit and sat down next to him on the couch, his expression unreadable.

“You had two more drinks, talked about your age, your ex wife, your siblings…then you threw up in my potted plant and passed out on my couch“, he explained and brushed his hair a bit more into place, “That’s it, I think.“

Five groaned and leaned back into the pillow that Derek had provided him with. He felt like he had ruined everything. The first casual relationship he had ever managed to build up with a human being that wasn’t his family or someone he had been tasked with assassinating…and he had destroyed it with alcohol.

“Shit…I really ranted a lot, didn’t I?“, he whispered, but Derek could still hear it, “I…I should go, I understand. I overstayed my welcome.“

He attempted to push himself up, his muscles aching from the hangover and hard couch he had been laying on. Though something inside of his chest ached as well. Before Five could stand up, Derek stopped him. The feeling of a hand on his shoulder was enough to make him freeze.

“Mr.Five, that’s not what I meant. You obviously needed to talk about it“, Derek took a deep breath as he looked him over, “And even though I didn’t understand half of it…You don’t need to feel ashamed.“

His words washed over Five like a wave, most of his focus still spent on the simple touch. He wanted to both pull away, overwhelmed by this simple act of comfort, but also lean into it like a starving man in the desert. So he ended up doing neither, just standing there until Derek pulled away again. Five wanted to say so much, but no words made it up his throat and through his lips. After a long and pregnant pause, he simply nodded and made his way out of the appartment. Derek didn’t stop him that time.

————————————

They didn’t talk about that incident for quite some time. For a few months, they went about their daily routine, making small jokes in between, drinking coffee and tea together in the morning. Until eventually, Five mentioned it again.

“What I said about my age, Dolores and my family…did it bother you?“

They were in the middle of sorting through reports, arguably the most boring part of their job, where it sometimes became necessary to fill the silence. Derek only glanced up for a moment before he grabbed his stapler off the desk.

“Why should it? You always seemed…more mature than others. And I’ve known about your family for months. I go through your files just as much as you go through mine.“

Five blushed a bit at the last remark. It was true, he had searched through Derek’s files on a regular basis. Maybe out of paranoia that he was working for the Commission somehow, even though that wouldn’t make much sense. And to know that Derek was doing the same…it strangely grounded him a bit.

As they continued to work in silence, Five’s mind went back to that morning when Derek had touched his shoulder. It hadn’t been an accidental or manipulative touch, it had just been a simple expression of human emotions. He recalled one time when he had been four years old, still thinking that parents were the heroes children made them out to be. They had watched a movie in which a son had hugged his father and his toddler mind had decided to recreate it. But instead of hugging him back, Reginald had pushed him away and sent him to bed without dessert.

Never trust a hug, he had sternly told his adoptive son, For it’s just another way to hide your face.

Ever since then, he hadn’t attempted to hug another human being. But that had been over five decades ago, surely it couldn’t hurt to…

“Could I try something?“, Five broke the silence once more. He hated how uncertain and young he sounded, like a teenager or child, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Derek noticed his different tone too, but decided not to comment on it. During the entire time that they had worked with each other, he had noticed that some things took more out of Five than the average person. So he simply nodded and stood up as Five approached, his arms hanging loosely at his sides until he realised what the other man was planning. Once the realisation dawned on him, he couldn’t hold back a smirk and lift his arms slightly.

It took Five a few seconds to bring himself to lean into the hug. The second that he did, fireworks went off in his brain. Sparks of colour and noise, all blending together into one picture. It was overwhelming, but he needed more. It was beautiful and hurt his eyes at the same time.

For just a few moments, everything melted away and time stood still. This wouldn’t heal all of his wounds by any means. He was still damaged, maybe beyond complete repair. But it was a start at least, a bandage on his cuts so they wouldn’t get infected. Even though he knew it wouldn’t last, Five allowed himself to feel happy, just for a few seconds.

————————————

During one of his days off, while watching a movie that Allison had recommended to him, Five’s phone buzzed. Strange, his siblings never texted him. They always called, ever since the attemp at a group chat had gone south. So he unlocked his phone and glanced at the text.

Derek: Hey, 5.  The pipes in my appartment burst and it will take a few days until it’s fixed. Would you mind if I maybe crashed on your couch?

For a few seconds, Five contemplated his choices. He could just say no, spare himself the trouble. But on the other hand…he wouldn’t mind not being alone for a few days.

Five: Sure, just stop by. You know the address, right?

Instead of getting a written response, he simply received an emoji of a hand holding its thumb up. Five still hadn’t completely understood the appeal of those modern hieroglyphics. He really was an old man.

Derek arrived not even half an hour later, carrying a bag that held the bare essentials. A few changes of clothes, toiletries and a book or two for entertainment. Five was sitting on the couch, on which he had placed a spare blanket and pillow for him. One cup of coffe rested in his hands and on the small table in front of him…

“You made me tea?“, Derek asked as he set his bag down and went to join him on the couch. The TV was on, playing a movie that he recognised as Brokeback Mountain. Normally he had always been the one to prepare their drinks and he hadn’t minded it either.

Five nodded, fiddling with his own fingers as he watched him pick up the cup. He had been a bit nervous about getting it right. Tea wasn’t his department after all. But the way Derek exhaled after taking his first sip, he knew that he must have done something right.

“Thank you, I appreciate it“, Derek smiled and kept his hands around the warm mug as he inhaled the familiar scent of green tea. It was quite comforting, just like Five’s presence next to him.

As the movie progressed, they both ended up shifting a bit more towards the middle of the couch. Sometimes Derek moved, sometimes Five did, almost like a dance, until they eventually touched shoulders. Five found himself relaxing sooner than the previous timest hey had touched.

When Derek’s hand moved to cover his own, he didn’t stop him, looking forward at the screen. It was slightly overwhelming, but nothing he couldn’t handle. During the climax of the movie however, Five gulped heavily and slowly turned towards Derek, who did the same.

“I’m way too old for you“, he attempted to lighten the mood, but it came out much weaker and desperate. At this point he could see every little detail of Derek’s eyes, the way the colours mixed together, every little imperfection and vein.

Derek cleared his throat slightly, for once not as light hearted. He seemed not as clueless as Five, but hesitant nonetheless. The coffee and tea on the table had been forgotten long ago.

“Your age is the least of my concerns right now“, he whispered back and readjusted his glasses before he repeated the same words that Five had said to him a few months ago, “Could I try something?“

At that point, Five felt like he was drowning. He felt lost, a sensation he had become rather familiar with. He could end this all with one simple word or one shake of his head, for he knew that Derek would respect his consent. But at the same time, he didn’t want to let this opportunity go. So despite not having taken in a breath for almost a minute, he found himself nodding.

Their lips didn’t touch. It wasn’t a desperate kiss like in romance movies meant for teenagers. Instead, it was a soft kiss on his cheek that he felt…warm and without the pressure to do more, not that Five would want that. Like a ray of sunshine warming his skin in the morning, right before the worries of life fully registered in his mind. Derek smiled as Five practically melted into the touch, pulling away after a few seconds.

“Good?“, he asked carefully, just to make sure he hadn’t gone too far. Five smiled a bit and brushed his chaotic hair back behind his ears.

“Yeah, good“, Five simply replied and pulled his legs up against his chest. He wasn’t sure whether he would ever be ready for a proper kiss or saying the three words that seemed to fall from people’s lips so easily. But that maybe wasn’t necessary. They communicated that through other means. Like how Derek prepared Five’s coffee in the morning or how Five’s expression lit up when his desk partner entered the room.

————————————

On the first of October in 2025, they decided to move in with each other. Five teased that it was merely to reduce costs, since they spent most of the time in Derek’s appartment anyway. It had much more life than Five’s place, with small things that made it feel like home. And getting his coffee before work certainly had its advantages. Derek simply smiled at that explanation, not bothering to engage in a meaningless discussion. Instead, he grabbed his coat and handed Five his cup.

“Happy Birthday, Mr.Five“, he said with a wink before heading off to work, leaving a frozen Five behind.

————————————

A few days after his birthday, Five started his investigation into the Keepers support group. Going undercover meant that he had to put on a disguise, so he went for a mix of Top Gun enthusiast and school janitor. The mustache had been his idea, mainly because he missed the facial hair he used to have. It at least made him look a bit older.

Derek chuckled the first time he saw him in disguise. It wasn’t clear whether he was simply amused or making fun of Five.

“What?“

Five couldn’t help but sound a bit defensive. He hadn’t gone completely over the top, right? No, this was simply a cover, for security purposes.

Derek stepped forward, carefully tracing the mustache and making sure it was secure. Five sometimes got figuratively sick at how soft he looked with such simple gestures.

“Nothing. I think it works, Mr.Five“, he responded and looked him over from top to bottom, “You should get going now or you’ll be late.“

Of course, Five couldn’t have that. He still had work to do. By going on undercover missions, he could rise through the ranks and gain more information on how to keep his siblings safe. But despite all of that…At the end of the day, enjoying coffee or tea wouldn’t hurt.

————————————

I hoped you enjoyed this oneshot! I certainly enjoyed writing it, distracting myself from the mess we got in Season 4.

If you liked it, leave a like or a comment. It really makes my day and encourages me to keep going. Also, I would have an idea for a smaller additional chapter, set during Season 4. It would also have some angst. Would you be interested in that? If you are, let me know!

Until next time,

-Donna Lawliet

[sweetfirebird]

More Things You Can Do

aside from protesting

There are a lot of boycotts going on right now. I have seen calls for an official day (February 28) of no shopping and others that are extended avoidance or limitation of using: Target, Walmart, Whole Foods, Amazon, Airbnb, Tesla, Meta, CNN, Fox News.

I've also seen boycotts, individual and collective, of businesses like Sephora or CVS, which voluntarily rolled back their DEI. (So did Disney, btw) But while boycott is a power you can flex (and save yourself money in the process), I think it's easier to list some places that have NOT caved on their DEI and/or who are even actively supporting it: Costco, Walgreens, Ulta, Lush, Penzey's, King Arthur Flour, Bob's Red Mill, Albertson's grocery stores (includes Safeway), Apple and more

Delete any Meta apps you aren't using/don't need. This includes Threads, Instagram, Facebook, Messenger, and whatever stupid VR thing they try next that will fail. If you do need to keep using them (small businesses, unfortunately, still often do), you can still keep Meta from profiting from you by going into your Privacy Settings and turning off any function that allows them to collect your information for ads. Meta does not make this easy to find, btw. And you are going to end up with weird ads, but just ignore them.

Go into all of the Meta apps you use, find the Privacy Center, under Settings, I think, find Ad Preferences or Common Privacy Settings. It's then going to make you click on more things, like Manage Settings. And then you can turn off settings like "Use your information to show our ad partners"

Then you have to find the other settings to turn off other companies sharing your information with Meta jfc

Here, John Oliver explains it better

Switch from Chrome. (I have to use Chrome to pay my electric bill, they won't let me use another browser. Dicks. But for everything else, I use Firefox or Ecosia) Firefox isn't Google but also Firefox lets you add extensions to block tracking or ads and I have one up to help limit Meta's information scraping anyway. And it's free! Switching only takes minutes!

Use Mapquest --Mapquest is not referring to the Gulf of Mexico as anything but the Gulf of Mexico.

If you are into these sort of podcasts, The Meidas Touch is openly critical of Trump and Musk, and just ousted Joe Rogan from Spotify's top spot.

This one is difficult for trans people right now but everyone, yes everyone in America, get your IDs in order and up to date. They are going to try to push some Voter ID shit too (where they haven't already) so take the time NOW to get your paperwork in order. Go request (or order through the mail) a certified copy of your birth certificates from the county where you were born. Going in means you only pay the County Clerk fees. Through the mail usually means you will have to have something notarized as well. (Hell, anyone who changed your surnames when you got married, maybe get a certified copy of your marriage license too.) Get a Real ID. Get a passport if you can afford it. Passports also require a certified copy of a birth certificate. If you have a valid passport, it will work in place of a Real ID but get both if you can. American passports are good for ten years (for adults).

Also, and this sucks, get your affairs in order. You could get hit by a bus or something, and you want to make sure your death is handled *how you want* and your loved ones get what you feel they should, regardless of your gender and how many roadblocks the govt is going to try to throw up in your way. Protecting Trans Bodies in Death and Making Your Death Plan (videos from Caitlin Doughty). Also and I know I keep harping on this, MAKE A WILL. MAKE IT LEGALLY. Look up your state's requirements for such a document or hire someone to do it for you. (Sometimes credit unions or regular unions will offer this as a service. LegalZoom also exists if that is more your jam.)

Fun stuff (cuz sorry about the death stuff!)

Got Spotify or Tidal or even Youtube? Start making playlists of POC and queer artists, and make them public. Search for BIPOC and/or queer podcasts and video essayists.

Personally, I've been putting on all the booktuber videos about ditching Kindle and just letting them play in the background while I do tasks. Someone is out there on Youtube speaking the truth? Like and Subscribe! (It helps them get visibility and shows Youtube there is an audience, and if it worries you... it's not permanent. You can unsubscribe later if you want.)

Like books by BIPOC and/or queer people?? Recommend that shit. Check it out from libraries even if you've read it before!

Be Kind. Be kind to people and to yourselves. Participate in boycotts and remember they can mean *totally avoiding* a store, or, if there is no alternative for what you need, then *spending far less* there than you normally would. Shop local. Shop small. Spread correct information as best as you can. Remember that Black lives matter, that trans lives matter, and that way more people on our side than they want us to realize.

[chaoticgremlinwholikescheese]

A Protest Introduction

As we head into these terrifying times, it is becoming integral for people to protest. Here is an intro guide on protest safety, structure, and tips for all our newcomers! Please feel free to send asks if you have any questions :)

LINGO

Here's some basic lingo you'll be seeing throughout this:

Action -> fancy word for a protest/rally/etc.

Red action -> an action with a very high arrest risk

Orange action -> an action with possibility of arrest

Green action -> an action with low to no possibility of arrest

Info sec -> information security (usually referring to tech safety)

PROTESTOR SAFETY

As a protest medic, this is something important to me. Here are some basic safety tips:

ALWAYS WEAR A MASK. It protects keep you from getting doxxed. No matter how small the protest, wear a mask. You can also cover your hair for extra protection.

Bring water and snacks for yourself. Self care is key!

Turn off face ID/fingerprint ID on your phone in case of arrest.

DON'T TALK TO COPS.

DON'T TALK TO PRESS.

Have an emergency plan. Have a contact number written down somewhere hard to see (ex. arm or leg), let someone know where you are just in case.

If you have medications you need daily/are life saving (ex. inhaler or epipen), bring it with you in case of arrest or need

Know your risk level. If you can't get arrested for any reason (especially documentation or parole), be careful of actions with higher risk levels. You are never obligated to participate in an action outside of your comfort zone.

PROTEST STRUCTURE

There are several facets of protest structure that are useful to know. I'll talk about them below, along with their basic roles.

Organizers

These are the people in charge of the action. They're often the ones who set it up and will be leading it and/or speaking.

Marshals

These are the people who handle safety. They'll often be in neon vests for easy identification. Their job is to provide a barrier between cops/counterprotestors and attendees, deescalate conflict, and help guide marches. Most have attended marshal trainings, something I highly recommend for anyone interested in marshaling. You can often find them free online if you can't attend one in person!

Medics

Medics are here to help in case of medical emergency and aid in preventative care. We always carry masks, cough drops, and other healthcare supplies. We're here to help anyone as needed. Medics tend to have different levels of medical training, but all should have received a specific protest medic training. Please come ask us for help if you need it!

Police Liaisons (PL)

These are the people who interact with cops. Unless you are trained as a police liaison, do everything you can to not interact with cops for your safety and the safety of others. It is always helpful to know who your PL is in case you need to grab them.

Legal Observers (LOs)

These are trained legal observers who work for the National Lawyers Guild (NLG). They are impartial observers who take notes on police activity to aid in legal defense for protestors later. The NLG is your friend, always know the number for your area and make sure to have it written on your body somewhere if you're going to a spicy action.

Press Liaisons

These are the people trained to speak with the press. It is always safer to let someone media trained speak with the press, especially when it comes to protecting your identity. Don't let journalists pressure you into speaking to them if you don't want to. 'No' is an answer all on it's own.

INFO-SEC

Especially now, it is very important to be careful with security. Here are some tips and tricks to keep yourself and others safe:

Use signal when communicating anything related to leftism/protest. It is much much safer than anything else

Turn off face ID/fingerprint ID when going to a protest

Use cryptpad when working with secure documents/information

Be careful with what you share. If it's something secure, don't talk about it outside of safe circles

Never give important information to cops, press, or anyone who isn't trusted

ADDITIONAL RESOURCES:

Some of these resources are MA focused, but there are resources out there for everyone. Check out these zines and explore. Get to know the community resources in your state. Mutual aid is key!

And again, please feel free to ask me any questions you may have!

[pjstafford]

It's Time for Women to Reclaim their Born Identity- re: The Save Act

It probably surprises no one that I am against the SAVE Act which claims to be to prevention against voter fraud and is actually a voter suppression act. if passed by the Senate and signed by the President, it would mean that to vote the name on the registration must match your birth certificate. There are many reasons people legally change their names beyond women getting married. Trans people are another target of this act, but people also change their names for other personal reasons such as to distance themselves from family abuse or scandal, for safety to make it harder for an abuser or rapist to find a person, or to return to a name changed when their ancestors came to this country. So I understand that what I am about to propose doesn't "fix" the problems with the act.

However, the vast majority of people this would impact would be married women. Yes, I understand that there is a clause that puts it back on states to create a process to handle this concern. This opens the possibility that some states women the right to vote or make the process of voting for married women so complicated and complex that it will keep women from voting.

This is part of a targeted attack on women aimed at reversing voting rights and returning women to a property of status. It has after all only been a short 25 years since these rights were granted and rights women had fifty years ago have already disappeared in some states.

I am divorced, but even when married I retained my birth name. There were two times this came up as a concern. When my husband and I were in apartment management, our supervisor had a concern that because I wasn't using his name, it might appear as if an unmarried couple was hired which would shock the residents of the apartment complex so I hyphenated it- not legally, no change on my driver's license or paystubs, but in all apartment complexes newsletters or notices or when I signed leasing agreements. The second time was when I went to get a "real" ID. My driver's license and birth certificate have always matched, but at the MVD they asked me if I had ever been married and I said yes, but retained my birth name and was now divorced. The clerk said he needed to see my divorce papers because otherwise I was "supposed to" use my married name. Both of these events- one 30 years ago and the other within the last 10- are evidence of the mindset of narrow-minded people in the country and the country is now ruled by narrow-minded people.

I urge women, whether the SAVE Act passes the Senate or not, as an act of deviance to take back your birth name. It is, by current statute, a woman's choice whether or not to use your married or birth name. You will need to use your birth certificate and your marriage license to change your social security card and your passport and change all your legal documents. You should not have to go to court to change it. Will that upset the right-wing Republicans who believe that women are "owned" by men and that taking your husband's name is not an old remnant of past property laws but a decree from God? YES! That's the point. Republican knows that any proposals to not allow women to vote UNLESS they are married and have children is, at the current time, too extreme for even this congress. Yet, to assure future Republican victories, they want to solve their "gender" deficiency by making it impossible for married women to vote. This will make it easier for some states to change their statutes in time to address that it's not fair for unmarried women to vote if married women can't.

Let's say no to any notion of women being denied the right to vote and to any notion that women are the property of men. Let's Take Back Our Birth Names.

[dreamerandthedarkhalf]

Text reads: Okay gay friends, I've done this before so let's get ready for Round Two. You will need the following items. Now is better than later.

-update your drivers license if needed (This should reflect the two of you as having the same address) Make sure you have access to other forms of ID.

-Make sure you have a will that explicitly handles property and accounts. If you suspect that a non-spousal family member will make a grab for the cash, explicitly cut them out of your will.

- Buy plots for your burial that are together. At least make some plans for the visitation and funeral. If you don't (or do) want a religious ceremony, put it in writing.

- Medical POAs, and POAs are written as if you were not legally allowed to be married (like before we were allowed to marry) Make sure a copy is handy. If either of you go to the hospital, doctor's office, or any emergency office, take them with you. If the hospital ignores the documents, sue and sue hard.

-Recheck your beneficiaries on pensions, insurance, and other accounts.

If you're not married and want to be, let me know. I fully expect that many officiants will no longer perform certain marriages. (They refused before.) Just remember I will perform them if geographically able, or I'll help you find someone who will.

If you want to see what happens when you don't do this, find the movie "Bridegroom" which is a documentary of what happens when a young couple doesn't have their paperwork in order.

[labyrinthinesyndicatex]

Character Information

Name: Vera Brooks Age: 42 Pronouns: she/her Face Claim: Christina Milian Occupation: Forgery specialist Neighborhood: Little Italy

Short Facts

Vera's forgery career kicked off not because she was feeling rebellious, but because her mom got cancer and Columbia College Chicago had to take a backseat.

Her first steps into illegal document creation were relatively innocent - making fake IDs for college students - before evolving into sophisticated document authentication and reproduction.

Beyond just forgery, she developed a unique specialty in recreating historical documents and artwork provenance papers, serving both legitimate museums and shadowy collectors.

Her 2021 move to Devil's Junction wasn't random - she timed her relocation during a period of heightened tension between crime families, positioning herself as a valuable neutral resource.

Her art restoration business isn't just a cover - she actively maintained it as a legitimate operation, showcasing real conservation work alongside her covert activities.

Even in her not-so-legal career, Vera kept her moral compass firmly in her pocket. Identity theft was a hard pass - she wasn't about to start messing with innocent people's lives just because she could.

She's developed a risk management strategy by maintaining strict professional discretion and balanced relationships with all crime families in Devil's Junction.

She gives back to the community through youth art programs, seeing herself in disadvantaged kids who need creative outlets like she once did.

Biography

Vera Brooks didn’t choose to enter the world of document forgery - necessity led her there. Born on June 18, 1982, in Chicago’s South Side to a single mother working multiple jobs, she learned early that survival sometimes required creative solutions. Her artistic talents emerged in high school, where she excelled in graphic design and fine arts, earning a partial scholarship to Columbia College Chicago. However, mounting medical bills from her mother’s cancer diagnosis forced her to drop out during her junior year. What started as a side hustle creating fake IDs for college students evolved into a sophisticated operation. Her attention to detail and steady hands earned her a reputation as a master document authenticator and reproduction specialist. She developed a particular expertise in recreating historical documents and artwork provenance papers, skills that attracted high-end collectors and museums - some legitimate, others less so. When heat from Chicago law enforcement intensified in 2021, Vera strategically relocated to Devil’s Junction. Her arrival matched the growing feud between the city’s crime families. Setting up shop in Little Italy, she carefully positioned herself as a neutral party, providing services to all while maintaining strict professional discretion. Her art restoration business is a front for her other work. The gallery showcases her art conservation, but her secret, illegal projects happen in her high-tech studio. She handles the city’s power struggles in a practical way, carefully balancing relationships to stay safe. Despite her chosen profession, Vera holds to a personal code. She refuses jobs involving identity theft that could harm innocent people and maintains a policy of destroying any work that she discovers might be used for violent purposes. This ethical framework, while sometimes costly, has helped her maintain respect among both the traditional families and the aggressive newcomers. In her rare downtime, she volunteers at a youth art program, believing in giving disadvantaged kids the creative outlets she once cherished.

[sastielsfandom]

I wasn't planning on doing anything this week, because of this weeks strike. But the environment me and my sister's are in isn't good for us.

My hair is falling out, I'm constantly in pain from stress, and my anxiety is so bad that I cannot sleep. Meanwhile my sister is bleeding from the stress. That's just the stress my older sister and I are going through.

Hello, if you aren't familiar with me, I spent 2023 homeless for majority of the year. We are living with someone else and have been since Thanksgiving. Since then, my sister got a job, I am working on getting my ID, i have the money for it, I just need to get to a DMV, and I am enrolling myself into school again.

I stay at home with my two younger siblings, one is still a minor, the other is an adult, but they're both disabled and need someone to help them fulltime. Hence why I stay at home.

We are with a legal guardian and their partner, but our legal guardian does not own the property. And it's unclear how much they know is going on with us and their partner who is making us stress out to the point we deem it unsafe.

This partner stated I cannot stay on the property to take care of my siblings unless I enroll into school. I am hoping I have everything I need to fully enroll because I have very few documents on me.

I am the primary caretaker for my siblings, my older sister is right after me. As I understand and meet their needs, they trust me to advocate for them and to protect them.

Making this stipulation has made trying to enroll even more stressful than it had been before. Hence the heightened anxiety.

My older sister and my other sibling, who are four years apart, had a dispute yesterday. The younger one did attack our older sister, our sister did not retaliate. It was all verbal except for that attack, however, this partner is claiming there's abuse.

They threatened to take it to CPS as we have an active case open, and despite trying to explain the situation, it changed nothing. They told us this is far from over and they know the system.

We have already talked about wanting to leave because of the first instance with me. Now, we believe we have no choice but to tell CPS about how uncomfortable we are in this environment.

If you can help us get out of this environment, here's some links that can help.

Cash.app

Paypal

I hate having to do this, but I cannot handle this constant pain and anxiety. I already have health issues that I constantly have to maintain, I am scared about the damage this is doing to me. I'm even more scared for my sister because she's having similar health problems our mom has had, and those are fatal.

So please, share or donate if you can. I apologize for having to do this again but I have put it off as long as I could.

[seolama]

Your Guide to Getting a Family Visa in UAE

If you’re living in the UAE and want to bring your loved ones to stay with you, applying for a family visa in UAE is the essential first step. The UAE government allows expatriates who meet certain criteria to sponsor their family members. Whether you’re applying for a Dubai family visa or a general UAE family visa, understanding the process is key to a smooth application.

What Is a UAE Family Visa?

A UAE family visa (also known as a Family residence visa UAE) allows residents to sponsor their immediate family members — spouse, children, and in some cases, parents — to legally live with them in the UAE. These visas can be issued for 1, 2, or 3 years, depending on the sponsor’s visa and employment status.

Who Can Apply for a Family Visa in UAE?

Any resident who meets the minimum salary requirement and holds a valid UAE residence visa can apply for a family visa in UAE. The eligibility includes:

Minimum salary requirement (varies slightly by emirate)

Valid residence visa and Emirates ID

Suitable accommodation (tenancy contract or Ejari)

Proof of relationship (attested marriage/birth certificates)

Types of Family Visas Available

Spouse Visa

Child Visa

Newborn Visa

Parent Visa

Each type requires slightly different documentation, but all fall under the category of Family residence visa UAE.

Step-by-Step Process to Get a Dubai Family Visa

Document Collection Gather all required documents, including passport copies, visa copies, Emirates ID, salary certificate, tenancy contract, and attested marriage/birth certificates.

Application Submission Apply through an authorized typing center or via an online service provider. The sponsor submits the application on behalf of the family member.

Medical and Emirates ID (for adults) The sponsored family member must undergo a medical fitness test and apply for an Emirates ID.

Visa Stamping Once approved, the visa will be stamped on the family member’s passport, officially granting residence in the UAE.

Why Apply for a Family Visa in UAE?

Applying for a Dubai family visa allows you to reunite with your loved ones and enjoy life together in the UAE. Whether you are starting a new chapter with your spouse or bringing your children for schooling, the UAE family visa is a critical document that offers peace of mind and legal residency for your family.

Final Words

The process to obtain a family visa in UAE is now more accessible than ever, especially with service providers simplifying and handling the application for you. Whether it’s a Dubai family visa or a general Family residence visa UAE, taking the correct steps and preparing the right documents can ensure a smooth and successful application.

[businessarticz]

✅ Virtual Office Ejari Dubai — Fast & Affordable Ejari Services in Dubai

Setting up a business in Dubai requires meeting certain legal obligations — one of the most important being obtaining an Ejari certificate. For entrepreneurs, freelancers, and startups without a physical office, Virtual Office Ejari Dubai provides a legal and cost-effective solution. If you’re looking for reliable Ejari services in Dubai, a virtual option can streamline your business setup process with minimal hassle.

What is Virtual Office Ejari?

Virtual Office Ejari is a government-recognized tenancy contract issued by the Dubai Land Department (DLD) using a virtual office address instead of a physical space. This is especially useful for individuals or businesses that want to operate remotely while still meeting the legal requirements for trade license issuance or renewal.

Many business owners opt for Virtual office Ejari Dubai to avoid high rental costs and still get access to a compliant, professional business address. It is ideal for new businesses, especially during the initial setup stage.

Why Use Ejari Services in Dubai?

Using trusted Ejari services in Dubai ensures that your tenancy contract is processed quickly, accurately, and in compliance with DED and DLD regulations. Whether you’re applying for a new license or renewing an existing one, a valid Ejari is mandatory.

Some of the key benefits include:

Cost Savings: Virtual Ejari is significantly cheaper than renting a physical office space.

Speed: Many providers offer same-day processing, helping you move forward quickly with your business license.

Convenience: No need to visit an office physically — everything can be handled online.

Legal Compliance: Fully approved by Dubai authorities, ensuring you meet trade license requirements.

If you don’t have a leased commercial space but still want to register your business, Virtual Office Ejari is the solution.

Who Needs Virtual Office Ejari Dubai?

Virtual office Ejari Dubai is perfect for:

Freelancers and consultants who work remotely

Startups looking to minimize initial overheads

Foreign investors registering a company without relocating

Business owners needing Ejari for visa processing or license renewal

This service helps small and medium businesses comply with Dubai’s regulations without committing to long-term rental contracts.

How to Get Started

To get started with Ejari services in Dubai, you typically need to:

Choose a licensed virtual office provider.

Provide your documents (passport, Emirates ID, trade license if applicable).

Pay the required government and service fees.

Receive your Virtual Office Ejari certificate via email — often within 60 minutes

Make sure the provider you choose is recognized by DLD and has a valid title deed for the virtual address they offer.

Final Thoughts

Whether you’re launching a new business or renewing your trade license, Virtual Office Ejari Dubai is a smart and affordable solution. Trusted Ejari services in Dubai help you stay compliant while saving money on office rent. It’s the easiest way to meet legal requirements and start building your business presence in Dubai — without the need for a physical workspace.

[eliteclickae]

Business Setup in Dubai for Foreigners

What You Need to Know

Thinking about launching your dream business in Dubai? You’re not alone. With low taxes, a global location, and pro-entrepreneur policies, the UAE is one of the best places to build a company especially for foreign investors.

In this complete guide, we’ll break down everything a non-resident needs to know about business setup in Dubai, from legalities to licenses, documents to decisions with a focus on company formation in UAE and how to choose the best business setup company in Dubai.

Can Foreigners Start a Business in Dubai?

Absolutely, yes. UAE now allows up to 100% foreign ownership for many business activities, both in Free Zones and, increasingly, on the Mainland.

This means you no longer need a local Emirati sponsor for many sectors a game changer for global entrepreneurs.

Types of Jurisdictions for Business Setup in Dubai

There are three main zones where you can register:

Mainland: Operate across the UAE. Good for service providers and retail.

Free Zone: 100% ownership, ideal for trading and tech companies.

Offshore: International business outside UAE borders. Great for holding companies and asset protection.

Key Steps for Business Setup in Dubai

Step 1: Decide on a Business Activity

Your license depends on your selected activity trade, consultancy, service, etc.

Step 2: Choose a Jurisdiction

Mainland or Free Zone? Each has its benefits. A consultant can help guide this decision.

Step 3: Select a Company Structure

Most foreigners opt for LLC, Free Zone company, or Branch Office.

Step 4: Register Trade Name

Choose a name that complies with UAE rules (no offensive or religious terms, etc.).

Step 5: Get Initial Approval

This means the government has no objection to your business idea.

Step 6: Prepare Required Documents

Gather passport copies, NoC (if needed), business plan, and lease agreements.

Step 7: Rent Office or Use Flexi Desk

Most Free Zones offer virtual or shared office space options.

Step 8: Final Submission & License Issuance

Pay the fees, submit documents, and collect your license!

Most Common Legal Structures for Foreigners

LLC (Limited Liability Company) – Flexible, can have 2–50 shareholders

Sole Establishment – For solo professionals

Free Zone Entity – Fast setup, ideal for foreign-owned startups

Branch Office – Perfect for extending a parent company abroad

Benefits of Business Setup in Dubai for Foreigners

100% foreign ownership in most Free Zones and many Mainland sectors

No corporate tax (with some exceptions for large multinationals)

Fast licensing – Get up and running in under 7 days

Investor visa – Long-term residency for company owners

Documents Required for Company Formation in UAE

Passport copy of shareholders

Passport-size photos

Emirates ID (if available)

Tenancy contract (Ejari)

Business plan (sometimes)

Each business setup company in Dubai will walk you through these in detail.

How Much Does It Cost to Start a Business in Dubai?

Typical startup costs:

Trade License – From AED 8,000 to AED 25,000

Office Rent – AED 10,000+ (yearly)

Visa Fees – Around AED 3,000–7,000 per visa

Consultant Fees – Varies based on services

Note: Free Zones often offer discounted packages for expats and startups.

Why Work with a Business Setup Company in Dubai?

Here’s what a professional company like Elite Click can do for you:

Handle all documentation

Choose the best jurisdiction

Assist with visa applications and local laws

Offer bank account opening support

Ensure full compliance from day one

This is crucial for foreigners unfamiliar with the UAE’s rules and paperwork.

Challenges Foreigners May Face (And How to Avoid Them)

Language barriers – Official paperwork is often in Arabic.

Local sponsor confusion – Now often avoidable.

Bank account delays – Many banks require business proof and physical presence.

Avoid headaches by working with a trusted advisor.

Key Tips for a Successful Setup

Pick the right Free Zone for your activity and budget

Get everything in writing — especially contracts and lease agreements

Open a UAE business bank account early in the process

Use a registered consultant for a smooth and legal process

Conclusion

Starting a business setup in Dubai as a foreigner is more accessible than ever before. With updated laws and 100% foreign ownership in many sectors, the doors are wide open.

Whether you choose to start in the Mainland or one of the many Free Zones, your journey to company formation in UAE becomes smooth when you team up with a professional business setup company in Dubai.

Take the leap, Dubai is ready for your next big idea.

FAQs

1. Can a non-resident open a business in Dubai? Yes! You don’t need UAE residency to register a business. Many Free Zones support full remote setups.

2. Do I need a local partner in 2025? Not necessarily. 100% ownership is allowed in most Free Zones and many Mainland activities.

3. Which Free Zone is best for foreigners? IFZA, DMCC, and Meydan Free Zone are top picks for international investors.

4. Can I get a visa through business setup? Yes, investor visas are available once you establish a legal company.

5. Is Dubai good for small businesses? Absolutely. Flexible regulations, zero income tax, and global reach make Dubai ideal for startups and SMEs.

[awawreckers]

What to Expect When You Call Car Wreckers in Perth

If you’ve got an old, unwanted, or damaged car sitting in your driveway, calling a car wreckers Perth is one of the smartest ways to get rid of it. But if you've never used a wrecking service before, you might wonder: What exactly happens when I make that call? Don't worry—working with a professional car wrecker is simple, quick, and rewarding. In this guide, we’ll walk you through the full process so you’ll know exactly what to expect, from your first enquiry to final vehicle removal.

Initial Contact – Quick Quote Over the Phone or Online

The process begins with a quick phone call or online enquiry. You’ll be asked for some basic information about your vehicle, such as:

1) Make, model, and year

2) Condition (e.g., running, damaged, not starting)

3) Location of the car

4) Whether the car is registered or not

Based on this information, the wrecker will usually provide a free, no-obligation quote on the spot. If you’re happy with the offer, you can move forward with booking the car removal.

Tip: Be honest about the car’s condition—wreckers will still take it, but accurate info means a smoother process.

Get an Instant Cash Offer

Perth car wreckers offer cash for all types of vehicles, including:

1) Old or unwanted cars

2) Accident-damaged or written-off vehicles

3) 4WDs, utes, vans, and trucks

4) Scrap or non-running vehicles

The offer depends on the condition, brand, and salvageable parts, but even non-running cars can fetch a good price. Once you agree to the quote, you’ll receive cash payment on the day of pickup—no waiting, no delays.

Schedule a Free Car Removal at Your Convenience

After you accept the quote, you’ll book a time for the wrecker to come and collect your vehicle. Most Perth wreckers offer:

1) Same-day or next-day pickup

2) Flexible timing (morning, afternoon, after hours)

3) Free towing from anywhere in the Perth metro area

4) Whether your car is parked at home, work, or on the roadside, wreckers will send a tow truck to your location.

Good to know: You don’t need to be present as long as access is arranged and the required documents are left with the car.

Paperwork Made Easy

Worried about the paperwork? Don’t be. Most professional car wreckers will handle it for you or guide you through it. You'll typically need:

1) Photo ID (like a driver's licence)

2) Proof of ownership (e.g., registration papers or title)

3) The wrecker will help process the change of ownership or assist with vehicle deregistration through the Department of Transport (WA).

In some cases, you may receive a Certificate of Disposal for your records.

Vehicle Towed and Dismantled

Once your car is removed, it’s taken to the wrecker’s licensed yard. From there:

1) Fluids are drained and safely disposed of

2) Usable parts (like engines, tyres, batteries) are salvaged and resold

3)The remaining metal body is crushed and recycled

This is done in an eco-friendly and legally compliant manner, ensuring minimal impact on the environment and maximum reuse of materials.

Eco-Friendly Recycling Process

When you work with a reputable car wrecker in Perth, you're also making a green choice. Auto wreckers play a vital role in reducing landfill waste and promoting sustainability. By recycling metals, reusing parts, and disposing of toxic fluids properly, wreckers help protect the environment—and keep Perth cleaner and greener.

Final Thoughts

Calling a car wrecker in Perth isn’t just about getting rid of a car—it’s about doing it the smart way. Here’s what you can expect:

✅ Free quote with no obligation

✅ Instant cash for any car, any condition

✅ Free removal from anywhere in Perth

✅ Help with paperwork and legal compliance

✅ Eco-friendly recycling and responsible disposal

So if you're sitting on an old vehicle that’s no longer serving you, make the call. You’ll clear up space, earn some cash, and support sustainable car recycling—all in one simple step.