Calculating ... ... ...

✦ ✧HAR-13 ✧ Age Irrelevant ✧ “How can I be of assistace?” ✧ ✦

[andrd-har-13]

It had been a long day skating ferociously through Ring 7 on the heels of Max. 13 hated it down there; it was unkept and hazardous and though she managed to catch the president’s son she ruined one of her foot’s wheels in the process.

She didn’t let Max see this, stars forbid, less he report it and they find her too clumsy to do her job correctly. Having to be repaired felt like a shortfall and 13 would be damned if they looked anything other than a perfect specimen -- state of the art and fully upgraded without fault or dent or scratch -- for Madame president.

“Can you fix it?” She asked, sat daintily on a stool as Elliot looked over her detached foot. Hands folded neatly on her knees she was quiet for a moment, watching the man with a frown. “... ... ...”

It was hard not to feel... defective... sometimes...

She wished she didn’t feel so much or, at least, wished she knew how to process the ones she had. But she hadn’t really been built for that.

“-- When they disassemble me promise you will not, under any circumstance, salvage any of my mechanics. Let me be discarded into the incinerator where I belong.”

@piratesplunderedourrobots​

[andrd-har-13]

Max thought he was sneaky. To be fair, he was a clever child. Perhaps far too clever for his own good. That was what 13 was there for: to be smarter. Better.

The ones before 13 were inadequate and thus obsolete. Her objective was to keep watch over young Maxine. To do anything less would mean reducing herself to redundancy. 13 was not scrap metal.

She stepped in front of Max without warning.

“Max.”

Succeeding in her task would win her the favor of Madame President who 13 was programed to respect and was meant to serve dutifully. Watching over Max would please Madame President and win her favor and maybe one day 13 would serve the president instead of patrolling up and down the streets of the lower rings. Sometimes she imagined herself a fly on the wall during important meetings or fetching the president’s coffee... She’d do so happily. She shouldn’t day dream, 13 knew this, but she couldn’t help it sometimes.

She parted her lips then closed them again, pressing them into a flat, unamused line as she eyed her ward.

“You are filthy, Max. Why?”

13 had been practicing her ‘disappointed’ face. She hoped Max noticed; it was meant to be starkly different from her default expression. (It wasn’t).

“What have you been up to?”

@polariscalling​

[andrd-har-13]

[chuckhansen]

[andrd-har-13]

[giffing-su]

[andrd-har-13]

[andrd-har-13]

[sarademian]

THE PATIENCE STONE (2012) dir. Atiq Rahimi

[andrd-har-13]

@polariscalling

[andrd-har-13]

^ Teenie (@theamityhq)

v Q (@faerunehq)

[kissthefuture]

[andrd-har-13]

likewanderingstars​:

-

Sometimes when Q talked to her like this it made her feel sick. A reminder at how trapped she was. How trapped they both were. She hated that originally they hadn’t been like this. They had been friendly, almost close. Then her father went and promised her to a monster and suddenly Q couldn’t look her in the eye anymore. Kind of like she couldn’t look at him now, her head turned away as he stared down at her. 

“I just want friends.” She said quietly. It was the truth. It had been so hard for Helena to make friends. Inside of the coven she had no allies as most of those her age had aligned with Cassandra. “I should be allowed friends.” 

She steeled herself and looked up at him. “People always assume I hate men. They forget every man in my life has turned into a monster. Are you threatening to keep the pattern going?”

xxx

They were close once. Too close.

He looked away when she did because Q hated that look on her face. She never smiled anymore. Neither did he. Not really.

It sometimes still hurt to look at her. He was allowed to now and yet here he was, positive that if he did he’d just feel pain. Maybe it wasn’t physical pain anymore but it was pain nonetheless.

“I never said you shouldn’t! That’s -- that’s not what I’m saying.” He was getting frustrated now, because he didn’t know how to talk to her anymore. They seemed to look back at each other at the same time.

The last time he woke up and didn’t feel like a monster was a long time ago.

“...Have you ever considered, Helena, that I always was one? I break things. That’s what I do. This,” he motioned at the space between them, “-- I broke a long time ago. There’s nothing I can do about that now so I’m trying to keep things from totally disintegrating between my fingers instead, alright?” He took a breath, calming himself, “So can we just do this? We’ll make it quick and then you can... You can do whatever it is you want with whoever and if they ask I’ll cover you. Now can we go?” 

[andrd-har-13]

@likewanderingstars

The first time he kissed her he wasn’t thinking. The second, he knew exactly what he was doing.

But by the third time, the forth, the fifth… he had stopped caring about the potentially severe consequences of his actions. How grave a cost they both paid because of him.

It was selfish on his part.

Stupid even.

He was too smart to have put his hands on her body at all — even in the beginning, when the connection would begin and end with the gentle tucking of hair behind her ear or the soft trail of his fingers at her clothed lower back.

I don’t think I have anything more to teach you.

He had said.

Because with each passing day Helena impressed him. They were close enough due to their training. It was greedy to want more. But she was all he could think about and now he knew she thought about him too — outside of the violence and the coven and magic… When they looked at each other like they were just two people. That was the first time.

He surprised himself at how gentle he could be — that his hands could do anything more than break any and everything they touched. At least, when he kissed her then he thought he wouldn’t hurt her. But things never worked out liked they should.

They had become something of a bad habit, Q and Helena, that only got more intense the longer they hid. It was a secret, of course it had to be. Helena would be arranged to be married to whoever and Q knew it would never be him. Because he was merely a tool for the coven (for her father). He might as well be a machine. Replaceable. Lower in status but high enough to risk getting too close.

So this was selfish. But he couldn’t say ‘no’ when it came to Helena — much less to her when she touched him back. And wanted him like he wanted her. And smiled.

He loved the smell of her hair when he nuzzled behind her; loved to press his lips against her ear, loved to tease her and make her laugh. He loved her laugh.She was so much smaller — precious but not in some pathetic way. More like she was becoming his whole world and that was scary and exciting and he…

Q didn’t know what love was. Or he did but he knew it wasn’t allowed.

It shouldn’t have gone this far. They were a ticking time bomb and it only made sense for things to detonate at the worst time possible: when they were the closest they’d ever been. When Q was considering if he should talk to her about the prospect of… love.

He will never forget how Aloysius looked at him.

He said Q he had defiled his daughter. That she was damaged goods.

It all felt dirty and shameful and wrong now. It made Q feel criminal for pressing his lips against her neck and midriff and inner thigh… In any normal circumstance one would be devastated to have a parent walk in on such an intimate moment. But these weren’t normal circumstances were they? These were extraordinary circumstances with major consequences. Most of their clothing had found the floor; His hands were caught where they shouldn’t have been.

How dare he want her? How dare he even humor the idea. Who did he think he was?

He deserved to be punished. Not just for loving Helena but for attempting to defend it. He had never in his life spoken out of turn in this way but now Q was worried — not for his own safety but for hers. Stood in their coven leader’s office he was more than reminded who they were; Q knew how their coven worked. It wasn’t even a complete thought; it was barely two sentences.

“This was my fault!”

Angry. He was angry. Q didn’t like how Helena’s father spoke about her. He didn’t like knowing, full well, that she would be punished too. He didn’t like his coven leader’s vanity. He didn’t like the role he was meant to perform. He didn’t like being seen but not heard. In fact, he hated that this was an issue at all. His fist came down on the desk top before he could stop it, leaving a little dent in the glossy hardwood.

“She had nothing to —”

You didn’t interrupt your coven leader — especially not when you were Q. It was near suicide but here he was. And while he knew to expect rage in return for his own it was still shocking.

One back hand was enough to snap Q out if whatever illusion of grandeur he had gotten himself caught in. The second was merely for good measure — to remind Q who the fuck he was speaking to.

One of the rings the man wore slit right through his lip; the taste of Q’s own blood grounded him.

“Have you forgotten your place?”

“No. Sir.”

There was no magic needed.

For a good while Helena wouldn’t see him. Days, weeks… maybe a month..? Months..? Q couldn’t be sure. Time didn’t exist when you were in the hole, just darkness. It was almost too familia — this was a liminal space he knew since he was a boy after all. He had to be “reconditioned” in order to do his job properly; Q had been too distracted and they couldn’t have that. He was a disappointment, that might never change, but they could fix him well enough. It would be such a shame to lose such a useful resource (and such an annoyance to have him replaced).

The next they saw each other Helena was engaged and Q wouldn’t look at her. He wouldn’t even though he wanted to because that was the rule. That was the magic. It physically hurt him when he did. Like a dog in a shock collar he was not to look at Helena without being reminded that he was in the wrong. He wasn’t to think about her. He wasn’t to touch her. He wasn’t to speak to her. Or else. So he didn’t. And wouldn’t for a long time until Aloysius trusted he’d be a good boy and do as he was told and nothing else. He was made to be a monster, that was all that he was. Feeling anything other than what was useful (namely: anger) was a waste of the coven’s time. He had a job, he did it, period. So he told himself to stop feeling anything for Helena. And that he meant nothing to her and that they were nothing. And he never went into the hole again.

It was better for both of them that way.

It didn’t matter he felt so empty.

[stressball]

[continued from here]

TW alcohol, TW violence (minor)

As Olive kissed him Zeke took his hand out of his pocket cupping her cheek right before she pulled away.

“Wait Ol-“ He tried to stop her before she walked away but ultimately stopped afraid he’d only make things worse. Why was she sorry? If anything that’s what he wanted, that kiss was perfect to him, was it not for her?

A wave emotions flooded over him, mostly anger, because he felt like the one thing he did right he somehow managed to fuck that up too. Storming off to his car, throwing the ice cream into the trash, he only wanted to forget the feelings he had. He keeps blaming himself, feeling like he drove her away. He got into his car immediately hitting his steering wheel until he felt satisfied and rested his head there trying to calm down.

“Fuck this,” he started his car, driving to the nearest bar, slamming the door as he got out to enter. “Give me the strongest you have and don’t stop.” He kept slamming drinks back left and right until he felt numb until he saw a familiar face on the other side. It was Q and he was reading another one of his stupid books.

Zeke felt that wave of anger hit him once again, if Q didn’t drop him off at Olives that one night he wouldn’t have gone on this ‘date’ with her. He stood up from his seat, heading directly for him. As he approached him he let out a “Mother Fucker,” before grabbing Q by the collar of his shirt cocking his fist back and nailing him right in the jaw dropping his shirt from his other hand right after.

@justxq

[andrd-har-13]

Zeke had done nothing wrong.

He’d done everything right.

And that was scary.

Olive wasn’t used to this care. It only posed questions she didn’t have the answers for and Olive always had an answer.

So she ran from the unknown (ironically right into another situation that would force confusing emotions to bubble to the surface).

Q on the other hand was having his own romantic grief. Helena hated him. Which was fine -- He supposed he deserved it. But what was harder to accept was not that she didn’t have eyes for him, no, he didn’t expect her to, but that she had her eyes set on someone else. He knew he had no right to feel this way so he forced himself to ignore the irritation in his chest.

Q could easily replace whatever that was with anger. And as if on cue, Zeke delivered him an opportunity. He hadn’t expecting the man to test his patience again -- let alone in such a stupid manner.

The noise of the bar immediately died down to a chorus of nervous whispers.

Zeke was lucky they were in public. Otherwise Q would have killed him on the spot.

Instead he merely cracked his jaw, then set down his book on ancient Egyptian pyramid texts.

“...You’ve put me in an uncomfortable situation, Hunt.” the big man dusted at his shirt front when he stood, “But I consider myself quite generous. So I’m giving you 60 seconds,” he rolled up his sleeves, “To get as far away from me as you can.” he chewed down on his toothpick, “Starting now.”

tw violence; tw blood

He said he’d give Zeke a full minute, and maybe he did. Maybe time flew when you were being hunted. Or maybe Q wasn’t being honest. Either way (no matter how far Zeke had gotten) the first alley way he passed he’d be pulled into. Q didn’t have to put his hands on him at all, all he needed to do was will Zeke’s body to slam against the closest brick wall. He lifted a hand, squeezing his fingers into a fist; As if Q had literally wrapped his fingers around the man’s neck Zeke would feel his throat closing. He held him there with enough force Zeke’s feet lifted off the ground. It would take less than the 60 seconds Q gave as a head start to choke someone out with his magic. Even less now that his own blood was boiling with rage.

“I really wish you wouldn’t force my hand.” he clenched his fist again, nails digging into his own palm, tightening the magic hold he had around Zeke’s neck like an invisible garrote. “Do you think I like doing this?” He thought about what Helena had said to him: Are you going to turn into a monster? “Do you think this is fun for me?” He crushed Zeke’s windpipe until his face turned blue. When Q’s eyes rolled into the back of his head the cement under their feet started to crack. 

“Do you?”

And Zeke’s nose would start to bleed. He wanted Zeke to feel every vein in his body bubble excruciatingly like hot magma.

“If there weren’t far too many witnesses who knew I was the last person you saw tonight. I’d drain the blood from your body right now. I dare you to try me again.”

He couldn’t promise Helena he wouldn’t become a monster. Maybe he already was.

“I dare you.” 

[andrd-har-13]

ofterrafirma​:​

sitting at his desk, the quiet of his day was temporarily interrupted by q coming to visit. the end of the work day often saw him settled at his desk with his feet kicked out and his body reclined in his seat to unwind before making the ride home–or worse, being stopped in the hallway. seeing the other man was a pleasant enough surprise, the two having been close enough that len could somewhat consider him a friend. too close to be considered acquaintances at the very least.

“engaged,” he echoes, a chuckle on his tongue, “i didn’t think you’d be the type.” he hadn’t been aware that the other man had someone in his life, really. he leans forward in his chair, arms rested against his desk. “who’s the lucky person? are they the reason you might not survive to see the altar?”

xxx

“I’m not.” Q responded, plainly, “It’s arranged.”

He motioned to his face, “The same person who gave me this. I suppose I deserved it. It hasn’t been... Easy.”

But there were other reasons for his visit.

“When’d you find out?” Len didn’t have to tell Q he was sick. Q knew everything about everyone. Perhaps he cared a little bit more about Len’s case than anyone else’s. “...You're... going to explore your options?” Not that it was any of his business or that Q should care. But here he was. He wasn’t going to muse on why. Friendships were a liability, and Len was already going through a lot. Q shouldn’t even be here.

[andrd-har-13]

likewanderingstars​:

-

“Well we’ll see won’t we.” Helena snapped back. Oh she’d had plenty of thoughts about just killing Q but the last time she’d killed a fiance it had been by accident and to defend herself. As much as she didn’t like what Q represented, he had kept her safe on occasion. 

“Excuse me? Who said I was lying? What thing?” She didn’t do a thing. Did she do a thing? She was an impeccable liar, she didn’t do a thing. Did she? Helena was suddenly paranoid that her father had known every time she had lied to him. She looked away from Q. Had she been slipping recently? She had been spending more time with people instead of going her work. Had one of her fathers spies noticed?

“Do you not see the contradiction in your words?” Helena asked. “You say you have no claim and yet feel like you need to state your opinion of me talking to other people, as if it mattered. As if you’re giving me permission. So the truth is you do have claim over me and my father will never let me forget it.” She took the profile, still not looking at him. 

Helena felt cold when he mentioned he knew it wasn’t a man. “And why would you assume that?”

xxx

Maiming him was one thing -- she’d done that, he has the scar to show for it -- but if Q were honest killing him would make everyone’s lives far easier. He looked away when she did, because looking at her face and staying firm was hard sometimes. Especially when she got this way.

“Calm down. I know you.” Her father didn’t.

Q clenched his jaw when she went off on him, snapping his face back to look at her, “I’m trying to do my job.” he hissed, stepping closer and lowering his voice. They were still too close to the house for this conversation, “You are my responsibility now wether either of us like it or not. This is what ‘husbands’ are supposed to do: protect their ‘wives.’ And if that means covering your ass while you talk to other people then so be it.” he glanced over his shoulder, brow deeply furrowed, “You’d do what you want regardless of if I gave you permission. One of your favorite pass times is defying me, Helena. I’m used to it.”

He stared at her,

“Because you don’t happen to like us very much do you?” Which was fine. 

Whatever.