#a proper damn scientist with a doctorate

[green-mountain-goose]

-

[tokoyamisstuff]

Fragments Pt. 1/3

Homelander / GN! Reader

Ch. 1: Fallen Angel

Summary: After a new drug rendered Homelander both powerless and amnesic, he gets saved by someone blissfully unaware of who he is.

Shoutout to @blindmagdalena who did the impossible: Making me simp for this guy. Your writing is simply impeccable! 💌

Warnings: Injury, blood, lots of exposition, not proofread

Notes: Hurt/comfort, OOC, pre-canon, Scientist! Reader, idc about logic gaps (I will cry if you point them out to me)

Four days already, and he still hasn't woken up.

Winter in the Canadian Arctic was rough, with the polar night bringing permanent darkness, as well as severe snowstorms that could last up to a week.

Luckily enough your old radio communication system was still functioning, so you were at least able to request a few necessities in advance: Food and water for another person, a doctor of course...

...and clothes for the guy you had to cut out of this ridiculous costume to patch him up properly.

Leaning back in your chair, you take some deep breaths, unable to concentrate on your work. Your glance unwillingly wanders back to the man lying on your bed, still unconscious.

Who knows how long the weather will cut you off from help arriving? You just hope he will make it until then.

Maybe it's for the better, though - since whoever had done this to him could still be out there wanting to finish the job, too.

It bordered on a miracle that he landed so close to your research station, when you were outside to notice at that. And the storm followed only shortly after you managed to pull him inside.

That man really had more luck than anything, even while having been messed up like this.

You watch him until you're sure he's still breathing and not in any discomfort, once again catching yourself admiring his handsome features.

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was a literal fallen angel that crashed from the goddamn sky, right into your little front yard.

Damn it, the loneliness that came with this job made even your thoughts pathetic...

Well, to your defense, you've been raised pretty isolated your whole life, with parents being a doctor and a scientist that were devoted to spend their work at the most remote areas of the world.

It surely was a unique childhood with lots of traveling, and you were mostly spared the soulless corporate-controlled bullshit that was modern society. To add to that, your parents were never fond of using electronics for more than practical reasons. Not that there was internet connection where you lived either way.

All in all, while you obviously know about supes in general and might even have heard about Homelander the brief time you spent in civilization, the last time you've actually seen his face on a magazine or some sort was decades ago - and you didn't care enough to remember.

So it was no wonder that you were completely oblivious to who exactly was lying in your bed this whole time.

Sighing, you close your laptop with a dramatic gesture before making your way to the kitchen unit. You pour yourself a coffee to fill your rumbling stomach, having rationed the food in favor of your new involuntary roommate.

Having followed the footsteps of your parents - yet without proper funding - you led this mission all by yourself. At first it was bearable, since an elder native couple came to visit and assist you from time to time.

But your work demanded you to stay secluded from human intervention, deep in the mountains with the next tiny village being half a day march away. And now that winter made traveling scarce due to the dangers, the idea of some company certainly wasn't so bad.

You almost felt bad for being excited about him being here - whatever had happened to make him end up here was exactly the oppsite of great, after all.

Even though the emergency power aggregate was whirring loudly, the sound of strained groans reaches your ear - not the first time those past few days. So you immediately rush over to the man's side, pouring him a glass of water and dissolving some painkillers in it.

"It's gonna be alright" you assure him, unable to tell if he can even hear in this state. Blood is seeping through the makeshift bandages, making you realize you should probably reapply them soon. Maybe after the meds had some time to release their effect...

...however, just when the cup touched his lips, two icy blue eyes snapped open, making you wince.

"Don't touch me, fuck!" a raspy voice snapped at you, quite understandable in his situation. He pushed you away from him, causing you to stumble and fall as the glass scattered on the floor right next to you.

"Whe-where am I? And who the fuck are you?!"

"Who the fuck am I?" You felt almost offended at the accusation in his look, having to remind yourself that the person in front of you is in fact in an exceptional situation. "You're in my house. I found you injured in the middle of nowhere. So I should be asking you!"

His face fell in shock at the realization, internal struggle present in his features as he finally whispered - no, whimmered "I...can't remember..."

Racketing his brain around to make sense of the situation, he stumbled across his own words and repeated "I-I-I-I can't remember!"

"Can't remember what exactly?" You spoke more softly now as you got up, tentatively approaching him. He on the other hand jumped up from the bed, panic increasing with every passing second.

"Anything! I-I don't know who I am- shit, what happened?!" He was shaking, muscular chest having as he started to hyperventillate. You hesistantly put your hand on his back, feeling him tense at the sudden contact. "Please don't move too much. You're injured."

Only now he noticed the medical wraps around his chest, abdomen, left arm and both legs. Hell, his whole body was aching but the adrenaline wouldn't let this stop him from standing up, pacing around the small room.

Being overwhelmed with the situation as well, you decided it was best to tell him everything. "D-don't freak out, but we're in the middle of the arctic." Having a feeling that he wouldn't believe you - fair enough, though - you opened the door, revealing a snowy landscape. The doorway was already halfway buried under a snowy blanket, and the heavy winds were biting his exposed skin. "We'll have to wait until the storm settles. And even then, with your injuries you probably won't make it to the nearest village."

There was a long pause of silence between your explanation and his response, blinking at you in both disbelief and despair. "...if you don't know me, then how the hell did I get here?"

"My best guess is that you're a supe" you shrugged, hoping his memory loss didn't also affect his general knowledge. You pointed towards the torn bodysuit in the bin, stating matter-of-factly "You literally fell out of the sky. Even with the snow absorbing part of the impact, you should be dead - especially with those injuries."

Not really good at comforting someone, huh, you internally scolded yourself. Yet you gave it your best to calm him down and sign your goodwill.

"Sit down or your wounds will reopen." After a brief moment of looking at you all forlorn and maybe even a little distrustful, he accepted your help. You led him back to the edge of the bed, sitting next to each other as support for him to stay upright.

"Doesn't feel like anything about this body is 'super' right now..." he joked bitterly, rubbing his sides. You chuckle sympathetic, carefully patting his back in reassurance. "Maybe you don't have access to your powers because of the amnesia? I'm not quite sure how any of this works."

"Yeah, maybe..." His eyes were now locked on you, forcing a weak smile as he finally took a proper look at you. "You still didn't tell me to who I owe my life."

"Me?" as inappropriate as it was for the situation, he did manage to make you flustered just by that - and it didn't really help that he was still only in his underwear, testing your decency not to stare. "Oh, my name's Y/N Y/L/N. I'm an ecologist. Been here for eight months to document the effects of climate change on the biome, and-"

"Climate change?" he rose an eyebrow at you, "There's a goddamn snowstorm outside, woman."

Oh. He was one of those guys. Note taken.

"Anyways" you changed the topic to not provoke a pointless discussion, still unable to keep yourself from rolling your eyes. "Do you at least remember your name?"

The man clutched the ragged costume you had handed him, forcing his exhausted self to remember something, anything at all...

...but every time he tried, there was a sharp pain in his forehead that tore him away from the memories locked away somewhere in his brain.

And smehow, no matter how insane it might sound, he felt like this was his own mind's subtle warning to better keep it this way.

"I think...my name's John" he ultimately stated, rubbing his temples as his face contorted in pain. You continued rubbing circles on his back in an attempt to comfort him, whispering "Hey, don't overdo it. Focus on healing first, and then we'll see if anything else comes back. Alright?"

John nodded mutely, and you gifted him an uplifting smile, cheering "Well then, nice to officially meet you, John! Feel at home as long as you need."

He shook your hand almost symbolically, feeling almost hopeful knowing that despite the grim situation, he was supported by such a kind stranger.

"Nice to meet you too, Y/N. I'm all in your hands."

_____

A/N: This was written on my phone at 1am, so please bear with me. The next chapters are gonna be better.

[Part Two]

[abysshare]

I feel like this needs to be said but i feel like I'll just be talking to a brick wall for the billionth time.

The ableism of disabled villains in fandom is so beyond tiring. Its bad enough when a grey or protag character gets it.

Today I'll be using Curly from Mouthwashing and William Afton from FNAF as an example.

Curly, isn't really a grey character. Maybe more of a protag, but since we play as Jimmy for most of it, he is kind of an antag. But for this post i will be putting him as a protag. Which reminder.

Protag doesn't mean good guy exactly.

Anyway.

Captain Curly is a burn survivor as well as a disabled man, with no skin, no hands or feet, and is left with one eye. The damage is pretty bad, and the Nurse ( Anya ) has done the best she could with what she had, which is pretty damn good considering all things.

How does the fandom treat him? Its a mixed bag but of course. Ableism.

They either give him "dog buttons", or infantalize him, coquette-ify him, erase the situation just because "its easier" or whatever else. And then theres some people who genuinely try by getting him to a proper hospital so Anya or another doctor can try and fix what they can, as well as give him an AAC device or a wheelchair, so on and so forth.

Its either shit as unfortunately expected or good enough that makes people genuinely do research or call out ableism.

Now lets look at William Afton. A villain, murderer, mad scientist and so forth. For this post I'll be strictly talking about The Fourth Closet William Afton and Burntrap.

For those who are not into FNAF. The Fourth Closet is a seperate timeline from the games, an AU. And Burntrap is TECHNICALLY not William now, but when Security Breach came out, we didn't know this.

A bit more backstory for those who do not know. William has an Animatronic suit that he can go into to perform or kill, but it has these things called springlocks. If something happens, they can go off and hurt and eventually kill him.

Moving on.

William Afton is a Springlock Victim ( and even though no fire happens in the book before the ending of The Fourth Closet, i would argue and say he does indeed have burn scars as well in the graphic novel ) aka ragged Metal throughout his skin.

As Burntrap, he is a metal burned skeleton with leftovers of Springtrap/Scraptrap with burnt flesh.

How does the fandom treat both versions of him?

As Burntrap: some people like him, some don't. Its purely because at the first reveal we all thought it was William himself somehow even though he is supposed to be dead-dead for real. His design CAN be cool, scary and great in the right spotlight.

However.....

Most people took the "haha peepaw" route of memes. Some being ageist and some being ableist. Making him a senile old man in a wheelchair or a walker with Vanny being his caretaker. Most of the time throwing him down the stairs or beating him with his mobility aid or threatening to. Sometimes they would also draw him in diapers with poop in it.

Utterly disgusting, ageist and ableist behavior all because this is a villain.

How do they treat TFC version of William? Well.... i don't see much of him to be frank. But either its coquette-ifying him ( which is just as gross as coquette-ifying Curly ), genuinely calling him pretty or being absolutely being ableist/rancid, or removing his scars all together.

What is the point I'm getting at?

If its a villain, like William, to Darth Vader to Hordak from the She Ra remake, to Belos from TOH.......

They get mocked for their disabilities because abled folks ( and even some disabled folks ) thinks the Villain or whoever deserves it as punishment.

But these same people will turn around and infantilize and baby, or dogify or coquetteify "good guy" disabled characters.

I haven't seen this in the Arcane fandom, while i don't doubt people have been ableist to Jinx, Silco or Viktor , at least it isn't as "loud".

Ableism isn't cute or funny. And while i UNDERSTAND these are characters- and that they are not real.

It HURTs real people.

And I'm talking as a disabled chronic pain person, so don't even start with me.

Ableists and shit will be deleted, ty.

[screen-universe-official-thingie]

Plague Doctor Cindy!

Hi, I drew this concept art sheet thing shortly after drawing the Butcher!Aurora art and I took a break after that. Sorry I didn't post this one immediately.

Edit: Some close ups and extra commentary have been added

Rambling below (TW: medical subject matter like diseases and surgery, death, delusions, and cannibalism)

Meta wise, she started out as a mad scientist for the sake of being a mad scientist by listening to Novocaine by Cree-P and GHOST, and Black Box Warrior-OKULTRA by Will Wood. I just imagined Cinderella going too hard or harsh on Lady Tremaine, her patient/ser-worker/co-star, with her research, experiments, and surgeries out of frustration, stress, and madness. Hell, I would not be surprised if she tried lobotomy at some point during her side jig/job as a doctor.

But ever since I listened to Butcher Vanity by Vane and Flavour Foley, Cinderella later grew to be more than just a plain old mad doctor as I revisited her Screen Universe para concept and explore what her deal is. From why exactly did she fall into this path, to her relationships with the characters related or relevant to her story. She became another tragic character. This time, someone who developed an obsession with finding a cure for the prions after it "ate up" her once villain co-worker friend with in-character or canon compliant delusions.

Some close ups

The other state was meant to say production as well, but I'm too lazy to fix the typo now

Cindy with the Bok-su pose is slightly cursed ngl, but it keeps living in my head rent free. The fact that they're both doctors doesn't make it any better ToT

Eldritch Cinderelly (the note says healthy because their true forms's color and brightness changes if they get certain health conditions. In this one, she should have been a bit dimmer and grayer due to the Discontinuation Rot)

Herbs and spices stuffed in the beak like a true plague doctor. Though, Cindy does this for different reasons. Instead of the original reasoning where the herbs will ward off the plague, she does this to replace the smell of burning and rotting flesh with as much fragrance as possible. It also puts her at ease

Stolen Ideas Inspo :>

How it'd look like under her apron/dress thing

Goggles stuff for eye protection

Eyes. Eye eyeballed (eh? eh?) her eye color because I can not find a good proper close up of her face and eyes in the official material and the coloring in the og movie looks a bit inconsistent at times.

Screen shots from the ID server itself again of course

OKULTRA cranking up the mad doctor inspiration (ft. Novocaine starting the whole thing prior to listing to OKULTRA)

I think this one is still pre-butcher vanity arc

meme

Typical Disney para behaviour

more Cinderella angst lore because yes

A shit ton of other paras have not so healthy relationships with their characters at this point. They include, but not limited to some Pokemon characters, and SpongeBob.

Health anxiety go brrrr

This is from when Butcher Vanity arc or obsession hit around. It expanded her lore and everything. It was a game changer for this specific para tbh. I think this is about four months after posting the past Cindy rambles shown in the previous screenshots

Ok, this one is from an ID adjacent server, but I feel like this is still a bit relevant to the whole thing

(Also from the ID adjacent server) Ok, this one is kinda complicated since I mentioned another para who had something to do with a different Disney centered subplot that somehow affected the plot and lore of the entire paracosm. Basically, Snow White helped one of her ser-workers to found a cult and... everything went downhill and batshit insane from there. Ruined or fucked over the entire government and all... you may either dig through my casual account for the answer or ask through the Screen Universe blog about it.

Bonus: A joke relevant to the whole Cinderella x Sleeping Beauty ft. prion plague debacle arc/subplot (I found this god damn image from Pinterest and I captioned it as "Cinderella and Aurora")

TLDR: 1950 Disney princess becomes a mad plague doctor, grows into another tragic para, becomes vegan as a trauma response, loses her villain patient to the plague's delusions, goes off into a deep end after burning said patient, despises cannibals, and turns into their world's equivalent to a veteran in a "has seen the origins of modern day problems and the horrors of war" way but the war is the plague from the distant past.

[fipindustries]

my own take on the doctor

of course i toyed with very many different iterations on how i would like to write my own regeneration of the doctor, i have done everything from the manic to the somber, from the affable to the stern, from the artist to the scientist.

the most recent one that i actually got really invested in would be this: Jennyanydots the gumby cat, mixed with Minerva Mcgonogall and Mary Poppins, but the one from the books. The Mary that was a lot more serious and maybe even a bit menacing while still being a whimsical magical nanny.

we've had our fair share of manic, energetic, wacky doctors. and we've had our fair share of bombastic, larger than life passionate doctors giving these big poetic speeches about how heroic they are and what is the meaning of kindness and how much of a big damn hero they are.

here i would aim for a more pragmatical, phlegmatic doctor. one who lets the impact of her actions speak far louder than words. she would walk in, back straight, face calm into any battlefield and with devastating brilliance stop the entire conflict without so far as getting a spot on her clothes. this would be a doctor of precise, clear words. one who doesnt break frame and who is tightly in control of herself at all moments, who always knows how to follow protocol, wether it be the proper manners for drinking tea amongst airborn psychic cephalopods, how to properly land a ship careening into a colission course with the rings of a planet orbiting a neutron star or how to tie your shoelaces.

of course there would be place for fun and whimsy. She would be the kind of teacher who chides her students from misbehaving or pulling a prank but then couldnt help but let a cheeky vulpine grin slip into her face at the end because, fair enough, the prank was rather clever.

she would affect this really prim and proper attitude and yet an unexpected cuss or a completly deranged statement would come out of her, said with the most serious face ever. her humor would be as dry as paper, with which she would make a paper plane to fly over the enormous heads of those she is mocking.

she would show the wonders of the universe to her companions with the genuine love and passion for knowledge and learning as miss frizz or jane godall, if there is a moment where she has no compunction in getting her hands dirty it is when it comes to getting on her knees in the mud to enthusiastically teach someone about a really weird 4th dimensional fungus that only grows on the aurora borealis of planets.

of course her attitude doesnt stop her from being cosmopolitan and affable, she would have a kind genuine smile for every single person she meets wether they be a drunken brigand in the 16th century with a heart of gold or a creature made entirely out of slime, no person would be ever beneath her no matter their class, station, biology, identity or species. and she would try to instill this same attitude to her companions, for example

-please, do not stare dear, it is rather rude -but doctor! they have seven eyes! -well, dont let that make you self concious about your conspicious lack of eyes then

Her design

for the sake of diversity points, and also because i think it would look genuenly cool, i would go with a middle eastern woman in her 50's, with an air of math teacher, but also emphasizing her adventurous side.

couldnt decide between these two. maybe the fist but make her a bit less balenciaga hot, a little older, probably a little less "ethnically ambiguous" (thanks dalle-3). or the second with the hat of the first one and no hijab (it feels weird for the doctor to have like explicit religious attire, imagine seeing them with a crucifix)

if she wasnt french i would choose Laetittia Eido

sadly she's french so we would have to go with the closest birtish equivalent.

Her regeneration In

i would try to break tradition so that she regenerates before the third act of the current story. usually regenerations happen AFTER the mayor conflict has been dealt with and the bad guys defeated, in here i would have it so that she regenerates and then goes on to defeat the bad guys, with the previous doctor deliberatly pulling it as an ace up his sleeve, last ditch attempt or a last minute power up.

the way to make it clear who she is would be that, whilst the previous person regenerated spread eagle, arms in the air, she would immediatly snap into a more tight pose, then do a series of checks for eye sight, hearing, pulse, and hand eye coordination. (she is taking her sweet time to do this while explosions are going all around her) afterwards she shakes off the dust of her shoulders and says something along the lines of "well! now that that is quite done... back to bussines" and she goes on as if nothing happened.

if there is a companion nearby kicking up a fuss about how how strange this all is have her patiently but firmly explain this is all perfectly normal and no reason to make a big deal out of. if the companion or whoever insists that she used to be a man and now is a woman have her do some pithy comment like "i am a gallifrean, dear" or maybe "is not that much difference between one or the other, is it? although i suppose for you humans there is"

her overall arc

I like to think of each regeneration as saying something about the doctor as an overall character, each one's overall personality being an evolution or a response to what he did before. 9 as the weary, ptsd ridden man trying to process the recent war crimes in the time war, 10 as the man in the process of falling into denial and megalomania to cope with the guilt, 11 as the manchild who regressed in emotional maturity to be fully compartimentalized away from it all. then comes a break after going back to fix the time war and once he got rid of the guilt and the horror of having killed his entire race he is left confused, not knowing who he is any more, 12 is a way to take one final look back at who he used to be (the fact the he is back to a classic who look, a cranky old man with a stern look) whilst figuring out who he wants to be moving forward. and then 13 was her exploring new ground, reinventing herself, starting fresh. (although ill admit, i am not really familiar with jodie wittaker's tenure as a doctor of if this holds any water through out her series).

in an individual sense, her arc would be about going from a hypercompetent hardass, who uses her expertise and intelect to be a bit aloof and keep people at arms length because deep down she is afraid that if she is not perfect and in control at all times then the horrors happen, companions are left to die or worse and civilizations fall. and turning into someone who can relax a bit, who can trust others to handle things on their own, who can relax and not have to be in perfect form at all times.

within the larger context of the series i would like her to be in some sense a return to basics, her going back to the original formula, to what has proven to work in the past. is in many ways the doctor struggling to find comfort in old habits but eventually learning that she can move past them. i will leave it open to whoever comes next to decide what they want to do with the doctor afterwards.

her bowing out

i would have her regeneration being finally the one moment of big sentimentality in her series.

she is with her companions, in fact i would have her be surrounded by a multitude of people she just sacrificed for, many of them the friends and allies she made through the series.

i would have her try to keep her cool at first, put on a brave face for her friends but then deciding that its ok, for once to be vulnerable and allowing herself to break into tears ("i must confess... i am rather afraid of this whole process, i always am, and i always try to face it with a brave face but... maybe for once...i just wish it werent so") and the multitude of people she saved console her and reassure her that she did great and that she will be fine. for extra schmaltz i would have an orchestral rendition of "for she's a darling good fellow" play in the background. one final teary smile from her by seeing all this support, maybe even an actual bow or a curtsy and then finally letting go by saying "thank you my dears"(*), cue regeneration.

(*) yes, this is in fact a reference to the musical cats, fucking sue me.

[tigereyes45]

This fic was so much fun to write. For Mcspirk Week 2023 Day 4: McCoy feeling left out. @mcspirkevents

Summary:

Usually Bones doesn't let the gossip get to him, but after a nineteen-hour shift the words of strangers hit a little differently. Deeper.

Preview of story:

When McCoy steps onto the bridge to fetch his partners he’s met with an empty captain’s chair. Turning his head he sees the science station just as abandoned. Where could they be? Leonard looks down at the PADD in his hands. He picked it up on the way. It was originally going to be an excuse, but now he’s thankful to actually have a second reason to be up here.

“Uhura any response from the science center on Minor Felin II?”

“None yet doctor. Would you like me to send them another message?”

“We might as well, yeah.”

How is he supposed to do his job, if the scientists with the new rounds of vaccinations won’t return his damn calls?

“Did you see that?” Chekov starts as McCoy relays what he needs to Uhura. The russian was barely whispering. What is with everyone forgetting the proper etiquette for gossip?

Damn, he’s starting to sound like Spock.

“They didn’t even say a word.” Awe fills Chekov’s voice. “Yet they were completely in sync. It’s incredible!”

“There’s no team quite like the captain and Spock.” McCoy could practically hear Sulu’s nod in his tone of voice alone.

“Thank you Uhura, it’s nice to know someone up here is focused on their job instead of gossip.” Bones announces poignantly. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees the two shift uncomfortably in their seats. Good.

Uhura smiles nervously up at him. Clearly, his statement had made his already ill mood even more apparent. A pang of guilt sweeps his annoyance away. He offers her a thin, appreciative smile. “Just keep me updated lieutenant.”

“Of course, doctor.”

McCoy waves his PADD at her in farewell. He marches towards the turbolift. Later he’ll invite the two out for drinks when they all have free time. Clear the air. It wouldn’t do to let his foul mood fester and ruin an otherwise pleasant atmosphere on the bridge. 

The doors were starting to shut as Scotty hopped in. Leonard raises the PADD. He keeps his eyes trained on it. Scotty fumbles with his hands at his sides. If there’s something sitting on his tongue he should just spit it out. Bones isn’t in the mood to coddle anyone. Not right now. 

Finally reaching a decision, Scotty asks, “You alright doc?”

[scribblestatic]

So, this is less a storyline thing and more making sure I have the background stuff straight.

Completely by utter accident, as I was bathing yesterday and thinking about the Sonic Robotnik AU, I was like, "What if Sonic was previously made by G.U.N. using notes from Shadow's creation, but since they didn't have an abundance of ultramega powerful alien to use cells from, they used Chao and Wisp cells? But all of their previous attempts at building the creature up correctly kept failing, so they decided to try a few different cell clusters. A scientist with G.U.N. gets one of them to work. What they didn't tell anyone is that the cells are from Maria Robotnik's corpse."

And then I thought about the fact I'd given Sonic the real name "Matija" in this universe and I was like, "Damn. This checks out fr."

So yeah, that's what I'm going with.

Matija "Sonic" Robotnik was originally made as a G.U.N. experiment to create their own version of Shadow, but it "failed" because some of the binding cells to ensure everything worked together came from Maria Robotnik. As such, Matija inherited her NIDS, and G.U.N. deemed his creation a failure, so they were going to incinerate him just like how they'd incinerated the previous attempts. But some people with some actual fucking morals decided to try and save the little experiment by falsely marking him as incinerated and actually escaping with him.

Tragically, a car accident killed one of the people in the small group saving him, though the little hedgehog survived because his body might be killing itself, but he can inherently stand blunt force trauma.

That's where Ivo comes upon the crashed car and the dead person since his sensors picked up a strange energy from the area. While inspecting the crash, he sees the little creature the person was protecting and decides to study them.

After some blood tests, he finds out fairly quickly about the NIDS, and the little thing is having a hard time breathing, so Ivo puts the little experiment in something of an incubator. He notices the chaos energy coming off the struggling creature, so he's like, "Well, if this little thing wants to survive, I suppose it's best to tend to it. After all, it's an interesting study subject."

He does his best not to admit how much he cares for the little creature once he gains enough strength to curl his little paws around one of Ivo's fingers.

He's most definitely not gotten in too deep once he gives the creature the "Proper Robotnik name" of Matija (again, pronounced MA-tee-ah, which is like Matthew but Serbian).

He definitely doesn't take pictures of Matija when his little ears open up and he responds to sound, or when his eyes finally blink open for the first time.

His heart does not melt when the little infant Mobian starts cooing happily or trying to crawl toward him whenever he sees him.

And he doesn't feel anger the longer he struggles to solve the problem with NIDS, going as far as to study medical science to try to better understand the syndrome. It most certainly doesn't help that Matija's body is a really screwy cocktail of Mobian, Chao, and Wisp with remnants of Black Arms and even teeny, nearly indecipherable, incredibly damaged and scrambled insertions of what used to be human DNA. Making medicine that works for him is an absolute nightmare, but it's a problem the great Doctor Robotnik can most definitely solve as a genius.

And he doesn't feel sadness seeing the days Matija's NIDS acts up more and he has to have a little oxygen tube uncomfortably inserted in one of his little nostrils just to help him breathe.

Matija is definitely not his son. For sure.

He absolutely does not become a softer, more caring but still selfish man simply because of the little Mobian's influence

...Anyway, by the time Sonic meets Knuckles, Dr. Robotnik already knows that Sonic's body uses chaos energy, but he doesn't have the know-how to teach him how to channel it or possibly try to self-heal himself. So, when Sonic starts learning how to start controlling the chaos energy in his body more, he considers it a bonus, but he's dedicated to eradicating the pumped-up bastardized disease for good.

To Sonic, Robotnik is his dad, wacky uncle, and primary care physician. And he'd do just about anything for him, short of taking over the world. Thankfully, Robotnik's megalomaniacal tendencies have shifted to better, more manageable goals and topics. Still incredibly selfish, yes, but that's just how his dad is. He loves him regardless.

[badmusejail]

@cosmiccanidae

Breathe.

In. Out.

It was about all he could do; trapped on this damned ship in the middle of god-knows-where, sitting on his bed in the one position that didn't hurt.

Breathing. Panting. Sobbing. Some combination of the three. Did it really matter?

The wound in question hadn't been caused by this captain or his crew, even if he had implied as much. Really, it was just a complication of a past injury; after repeated requests to the janitorial staff to fix a light in the lab, he'd gotten fed up and done it himself, falling off the ladder, resulting in a crack in his femur. The wound had healed incorrectly, causing a build-up of excess bone to form. Originally, it hadn't been a problem, but now, it was digging into the thigh, restricting the flow of magic.

It was a shame; fixing the problem would take barely twenty minutes of time from a proper doctor; simply sedating him, griding off the excess bone, and properly sealing the wound, but the cost was so prohibitively exorbitant that he refused to to see the doctor.

And now?

At least it gave him something to focus on, he supposed. Somewhere between the grief and boredom, he wanted to smash his head into the wall just to feel something else.

Day by day...

Logically, he'd known from the beginning that there would be no rescue. That he'd die on this ship, one way or another, but...that didn't stop him from hoping that maybe someone would find him, that maybe someone would pay some ransom, that maybe he meant something, that maybe...

But he knew that it was hopeless, that his research had already been passed on to the net bright-eyed scientist looking to prove themselves...

He had nothing more to say.

Why did this asshole fox keep bothering him?

Wasn't it enough that he had won?

[elslittlestories]

27 stars

or Decanting day #3

The last of this 3-part short story revolving around Tech and Wrecker's decanting day. I feel like my writing is still rusty but it was fun to play around the different POVs. If you want to discuss this or my AU in general, please feel free to slide in my DMs 😉

The whole story is available on AO3

POV: Dita (my OC)

Words count: 1 238

“The decanting process of CT-8324 [ndla: Tech], CT-8956 and CT-9732 [ndla: Wrecker] has begun,” says Zee.

“Honey, Sunshine and Baby,” I silently correct them as they start broadcasting the kid’s bio-charts on the main console.

I’m not allowed to access anything else, but after over two years of those charts have become as informative as a holovid. I can tell from Baby’s heartbeat rate that the anesthesia isn’t kicking in…I drag a stool in front of the console and sit. Please let there be a good outcome this time! I don’t think I can wait another 2 months with the nursery empty…

Ten minutes is, Honey and Sunshine seem to be having a smooth decanting, but Baby is awfully tachycardic. Soon he’ll be in respiratory distress, they always are when the anesthesia fails. Poor thing, I wish the Kaminoans would find a way to prevent that!

And here it is. Baby’s CO2 levels are skyrocketing. I clench my fist. What are they waiting for? This kid needs to be intubated!

A flash of red distracts me from Baby. Sunshine’s blood pressure has dropped dangerously! My throat tightens. Brain hemorrhage. A massive one judging by the numbers plummeting. Same thing that took the two kids from the previous batch and many more before. I don’t know what the Kaminoans are trying to do, but they’re obviously messing with something they shouldn’t if this keeps happening!

I take a glance at the board where all my kids are pinned. 17 pictures. 26 stars…They’re going to keep Sunshine for observation—and whatever experiments they’re doing—during the next 24 hours, but I already know he’s going to be the 27th star.

At least Honey is doing fine. They’re going to call me in to pick him up in a little less than an hour. Baby should be fine too in a day or two, and this place will finally be alive again.

After one last look at the screen, I slid off the stool and head to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I smile to myself. I’ve filled it with enough blue milk to feed a squad or two. I overdid it, but I’ve been dreaming of pouring some in a baby bottle for months now!

I don’t care what the doctors say, this is the smoothest way to acclimate the kids’ tummy to proper food after having been fed through an IV for so long while they’re in their tubes. Besides, those mad scientists would have to give an ounce of care about what I do here to find out about it. As Nala Se put it during my job interview, I’ve been given total freedom to achieve their goal. Which is good little soldiers that follow orders…

I wake up with a start and it takes me a moment to remember I settled in bed with Honey to help him fall asleep. He’s curled up against me, his hand is griping my collar, and his head is resting on my arm. That’s what awoken me: I can’t feel my left hand and the rest of my arm are pins and needles.

Carefully, I shift him on my chest and flex my arm to regain sensations. He mumbles, wiggles a little before going still, his little body rising and falling to his breathing. The cards I gave him earlier are scattered all over the bed. He’s already memorized all of the species! I’ve never seen a kid like him. Asking so many questions and grasping some complex concepts so easily.

It’s a shame these children are brought to life in such awful conditions, and meant to become soldiers, but I can’t help but be thankful for the little time I get to spend with each of them. I squeeze Honey into a hug and peck the top of his head. Officially, I’m here to ensure they become obedient enough for the Kaminoans’ standard. But I’d be damned if I didn’t do my best to give them as much love and care as I can while doing so!

I hope Baby will join us tomorrow. His vitals were last time Zee checked, but like most of the kids who experienced a bumpy decanting process, he’s taking some time to wake up. It’ll be good for the boys to be together. One thing that never changes is how clones hate loneliness.

I try to focus on Honey’s breathing to prevent my mind from wandering off to those who left. I can’t help but think about 99, alone and out of reach in the main training building. I’ll have to send him a message. He’ll be happy to know about the newborns. For now, it needs to only be in…and out…and in…

Sunshine’s charts glow red on the console. Below them, Baby’s are all nominal. It’s been 24 hours, the doctors are going to call it for both of them any minute now. I twirl the star-shaped pin between my fingers.

From the corner of my eyes, I can see Honey downing his blue milk, sitting on the floor by the window. A rare ray of sun pierces through the clouds and casts its light on the floor. He reaches out to touch it, or maybe just feel the warmth.

The console beeps. Sunshine is offline. I purse my lips and walk to the board. That’s 27 little stars now…I’m not sure there’s anything waiting for us after we die, but if there is, I hope they all found each other.

“CT-9732 [ndla: Wrecker] is ready for transfer,” Zee informs me, bringing me back to reality—How long have I been staring at that board?

Honey snaps his neck to me.

“Can I go with you?”

I don’t have the heart to say no. I don’t think the doctors would care anyway. I hold out my hand and wait for him to stand up and come to take it.

“He’s still sleeping, though,” I warn him.

“How do you know?”

I point at the screen, “His heart rate is slow.”

Honey squints, then lifts his face up to me, frowning.

“It’s still early for physiology lessons,” I chuckle. “Come on, they don’t like to wait.”

We make our way to the lab’s med bay, Honey ahead, pulling at my hand me all along. I’m amazed he remembers the route! Although, the feeling is washed over by a burst of anger when I see Sunshine’s body have already been dealt with. His bed empty, the monitors turned off. It’s not exactly a surprise, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how fast they discard these poor kids.

I force myself to focus on Baby who’s lying on the next bed. Zee gently removes his captors and I bend over him to wrap his covers around his necked body. I slip my arms under the boy, lift him, cradle him onto my chest and adjust his position so his head nests in my neck. Someone left a gurney nearby, but I want Baby to experience human warmth as soon as possible.

Honey pats his brother on the back. With a tilt of my head, I invite him to follow me outside. There’s no need in staying in this awful place longer than we have to. As I walk out, I can feel a tug on the covers where Honey has grabbed onto the fabric. This, at least, softens my heart.

[clarktooncrossing]

HEY THERE PEOPLE OF TODAY AND ROBOTS OF TOMORROW! IT'S ME, CLARK! There is a madness deep in the dark catacombs of Castle Clarkenstein. For years these claustrophobic corridors have been the home of the ghoulish giraffe himself, watching as the world passes by. He prefers it this way. It gives him more time alone with the voices. The voices tell him many strange things. Yet they always come back to one: make more monsters! Everyday they tell him this. Everyday he is unable to comply. Hey, being a mad scientist on a budget means he can’t afford the fancy scientific equipment needed to breathe life into newborn abominations. Guy’s gotta afford pizza somehow. Luckily, he has discovered a way of sorts to please the voices. During all those years of watching, Dr. Clarkenstein noticed a particular pattern. Every night during October saw artists posting new pictures based on peculiar prompts. Many of them based on children of the night. While the spotted specter might not be able to craft new zombies, he can sure as heck sketch’m! As such, I provide this friendly warning to you all now: Be afraid. Few people can survive the horrors that are DUDELZ of the Damned!

By that I mean I decided to do my own take on Sketchtober this year just minus the prompts. Anybody gotta problem with that? Tough, cuz I already drew this crap so you might as well check it out.

It is said a monster once menanced the mundane town of Milton, Georgia. The year was 1816, the same year Doc Clarkenstein inherited his family’s enormous estate. By then the young giraffe had been attending school in order to advance the field of biochemistry. It was all he could do to cope with the loss of his family. Being the last of the Clarkensteins was a horrifying revelation for the spotted student. Made no better by the fact that he had yet to meet a woman, settle down, and have a child of his own. What if he died tomorrow? His proud heritage would be lost then and there. Death, it seemed, was his ultimate enemy. Faced with this proposition, the one man clearly had one course of action: conquer death. Should he discover the secrets of restoring life to those already passed, then surely he would have nothing to fear! Except maybe the uptight heads of the university, who disbarred the madman after he proposed his theories to him. As far as they cared, only God may tamper with life itself. Well if God didn’t want the disavowed doctor to meddle with the afterlife, why would he give him this idea anyway? Who were these stuffy scholars to tell the grieving man that he couldn’t bring back the dead? None of them could stop him. Especially now that his family home was fitted with what he needed: a proper lab filled with body parts harvested from nearby cemeteries. Most of them having belonged to American crocodiles for some oddly specific reason. Eh, beggars can’t be choosers. With all of this assembled, the young doctor gave birth to a new form of creature: Crocenstein!

Much like the AH Wolf, Crocenstein is yet another idea I’ve had for a while. The idea first sprang up in a Halloween comic for 2014 exploring Bumper’s fear of Ghostbusters. After the little ghostly goober is zapped at, slimmed, and set ablaze as a giant marshmallow, the comic ends with Crocie giving his wife the stinky eye for showing him the flick. It’s there we can see my original Crocenstein design, which wasn’t that good in hindsight. Ignoring how derivative it is of the design made famous in the films, the clothes he’s wearing are too clean and there’s few indications that he’s essentially a zombie. Dude’s supposed to look dead, not like he has an exaggerated forehead. That’s not even getting into the problems with Alberta’s Bride, but that’s a subject for another DUDEL. For now I just knew my buddy’s monstrous variant needed an update. After drawing this picture twice, I think it’s safe to say it came out looking good. Gone are the clothes in favor of different body parts from various species of crocodilian and reptiles. Unlike his book counterpart, Doc Clarkenstein isn’t too picky about parts. Especially when the end results look so cool regardless! Expect more of this monster in the future, but for now I hope you all enjoy this DUDEL!

MAY THE GLASSES BE WITH YOU!

[pixie-dust-campaign]

Subject W42

CW: Guns, PTSD, Lost love, blood, bullet wounds

It was early for me by the time I got off the plane, still not used to the time change. I was given a badge that read “ALL ACCESS” before I was escorted by a security guard down a narrow, white painted hallway. The door had a military insignia emblazoned on the glass, but I didn’t recognize which division it was. The automatic door opened to a dark room that had fluorescent blue lights hanging from the tall ceilings, and the temperature set at 69 degrees Fahrenheit. The air was thick with the scent of metal and axe body spray. Doing field research in the great barrier islands, it had been a while since I had been in an actual lab, but I was pretty sure this wasn’t the smell of greatness that I had heard so much about.

Before formally entering the lab, a few young scientists showed me to a set of changing rooms to get into proper attire. This room had bright white lights hanging from the ceiling, causing me to squint as my eyes adjusted. The dim white lights made my tanned skin look darker than it was. My wavey, golden bronze hair looked redder against the stark white lab coat they insisted I wear. I was permitted to stay in my decorative black yoga pants, light blue top, and gray high-top sneakers. Looking in the full-length mirror of the dressing room, I noticed I had lost some weight, and now had a faint hourglass figure. Living like a pirate for the past three years looks good on me, I thought with a smirk.

As I walked into the lab, I didn’t mean to stand on ceremony, but I honestly had no idea who I was supposed to be meeting with. That was, until an older woman in a lab coat and stubby heels walked up to me with open arms.

“Doctor O’Dame we are so glad you’re here! Well don’t stand in the doorway, come in!” she said with a slight British accent. Even with her slender frame, her hug was strong enough to make a bear think twice. She wore thick rimmed glasses, and her mousey brown hair with slim silver streaks was tied messily in a tight bun. Her ID badge said Doctor M. Braver.  Even in heels she wasn’t too much taller than I was. Her face was a bit weathered, but her green eyes were still young. She sounded like she had drunk about ten cups of espresso that morning.

“Yes, it must have cost the company a fortune to fly me back in from Australia,” I said.

“Oh yes! The land down under,” she cooed in a fake Australian accent of her own “How is it down there, mate?”

“Quite horrid this time of year actually. Tourists come in  and mess with my studies and what not,” I said with a small laugh and a smile.

I was astonished by the machinery that surrounded me. The blinking lights, the constant clicking of keyboards, the stark brightness of computer screens. Not to mention the array of color-coded wires all leading to different ports. Catching my reflection in one of the monitors, I noticed the lights highlighted the blue flecks in my typically hazel eyes.

A siren wailed from another room, causing me to gasp quietly and start to shake slightly. I haven’t been able to go near an alarm of any kind in the past few years, especially not a fire alarm. They always hurt my ears, but after the accident, the mere mention of one made my heart race.

“Doctor O’Dame?” Doctor Braver asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” I replied, slowly centering myself back to reality. “The boat doesn’t have nearly this many-um- lights. It’s just a bit…distracting.”

“Yes, well, you get used to it after a few years. That, and the fact that no one in this damn lab knows how to make a proper cup of tea. Anyway, I have much to show you!”

She formally introduced herself and guided me around the lab, quickly catching me up on all of the work they had been doing over the years. “Our idea was that we could enhance both animal and human DNA, creating a whole new form of- “

“Super soldier?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“In a word, yes. We thought we could take each of the best elements of some of the strongest animals in the world, and transfer them to a human. Maybe not all at once but definitely over time, or one animal skill per test group.”

She continued explaining as we entered another room, decorated in the same fashion as the first, with five more rows of fancy computers and their adjoining scientists. Do these guys ever blink? I thought.

At the front of the room, there was a large sofa, a wooden table, and some clipboards and pens, on top of a platform. About six feet in front of the platform was a sheet of clear thick plexi-glass, that I’m assuming was only one way. On the other side of the glass looked like a padded prison cell. A slab of concrete for the floor, three walls made of pillows and at the very back was a steel door with a single small window near the middle.

“This Doctor O’Dame, is where you come in,” she said pleasantly as she led me up to the couch.  Another scientist then handed me a clipboard with my name at the back in glittering calligraphy:

Doctor Siena O’Dame

“We flew you in for two very important reasons.” She continued, “The first being your expertise in large mammal and human psychology. And while some argue that humans are large mammals, I can assure you that it is a very important distinction.”

As I took a seat, the sofa slowly began to move, and I saw the first product of their experiment as we glided past the cell. A man with tattoos covering his arms, wearing a black tank top, khaki cargo pants, and tan sneakers. The sofa stopped abruptly, and bright blue lettering appeared on the glass.

Jonathan Frome

Age: 26

Division: U.S. Marine

Position: Test subject B45

Status: Stable

“B45? What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means, Doctor O'Dame, that Mr. Frome was our 45th subject to be genetically manipulated with Oryctolagus Cuniculus DNA.”

“You gave him bunny DNA?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“You know your geno-types. Yes, Doctor O’Dame, he now has the keen hearing ability, similar to that of a rabbit. Combined with his human DNA, Mr. Frome can now hear in a wider range of tones and from a further distance than any human can ever dream of.”

“Remarkable,” I said, rising from my seat.

“Yes, the company spared no expense.”

“Clearly.”

Then the platform shifted again, causing me to trip back into my original place on the sofa. I wrote down some notes from each subject we passed. Each one was dressed in a similar fashion, each one looked human, and each one we passed was considered “stable.” A few even waved “hello” as we passed.

G15: Gorilla DNA, now the strongest mammal known to man; T22: Sea Turtle DNA, can hold her breath for up to eight hours; O34: Ostrich DNA, can run up to speeds of 50 miles an hour.

Before we got to the next room, near the end of the alphabet of test subjects, I asked, “Not that I’m not grateful, but you seem to have this under control. Why do you need me?”

“Because, while the transfer of DNA went well physically, some of our patients have been having a bit of a hard time adjusting psychologically. Most of the cases we were able to handle, except for one. Which brings us to the second reason why you’re here.”

The sofa moved to the next room and stopped once more.

In the dark padded room, in the very corner, sat a beast like none other I had seen. This one didn’t look human. He was covered in dark brown fur and had giant paws for hands and feet. It had ripped through its shirt, and only the top half of his pants remained. Its bowl was overflowing with cereal, and its water created a ring of rust on the metal bowl.

“You created a werewolf? An actual werewolf?” I breathed, curious as ever.

“Well…yes.” Dr. Braver responded. “And…no.”

Then the projector cast the creature’s information on the glass, and I read a name I never thought I would see again.

JUSTIN HERSHEY

AGE: 33

Division: Coast Guard, Engineer

Position: Test Subject W42

Status: Unstable, Dangerous

Tears welled in my eyes, and my breath caught in my lungs. “Justin?”

“You know this subject. What was he to you?” Doctor Braver asked.

“He…” I stroked my fingers for a ring that wasn’t there, “He was my fiancé.”

“Doctor O’Dame, I’m so sorry. I…I didn’t know.”

“It’s ok. Calling off the engagement was a mutual agreement when he shipped out on his first mission. Though, when he said he was going into the service, I never thought this was what he meant.” I went to place my hand on the cold plexi-glass. “How? How is he here? I…I went to his funeral. We… we buried a casket, I- “

“I know you must have a lot of questions- “

“Why did you bring me here?” I shouted at Doctor Braver, my blood boiling.

“Doctor, let me explain.” She said calmly, “You were listed as Mr. Hershey’s emergency contact when he first started the study. Before he underwent transformation, he never got a chance to change it. At first, we didn’t think anything would go wrong. If only we had known.”

I was at a loss for words. What was I supposed to say when I had just found out my ex- fiancé, whom I thought was dead, had been turned into a werewolf?

“I…I want to see him,” I said as I hopped off the platform.

“No, Doctor O’Dame! Wait- “

Before I could hear her warning, I headed for the door that read restricted access, and to my surprise, opened it with ease. I turned left down a narrow hallway, then left again to find myself in a much larger hallway lined with steel doors. Each door was labeled with the test subject’s ID. A55, B45, C67. It felt like a dizzying game of Bingo.

Finally, I found Justin’s door.

W42. DO NOT ENTER.

But I couldn’t resist. I had to see him for myself.

I unlocked the door with my key card, and gently pushed it open. I walked in slowly, giving my eyes time to adjust to the poorly lit space. The beast they claimed was Justin had moved from the corner I last saw him in. I slowly shuffled my way to the center of the room where the light was brightest, and stood frozen. From the darkness, I heard a deep growl rumble from behind me. My heart skipped a beat, as I slowly turned around and saw it. Two glowing teal eyes surrounded by dark fur and accented with a wicked smile of sharp white teeth. He had the body and face of a wolf, but the kindness in his eyes was still human.

I backed away slowly with my arms extended.

“Justin? It’s me. Please.”

The beast's face softened, but only for a moment. It shook its massive head, and resumed snarling at me.

“Justin. Please I-“ Like any good predator, he had backed me against a wall.  “Please.”

Then the beast pounced toward me, and I fainted.

In my subconscious, I remembered how Justin looked the last time I saw him alive. Justin was never extremely muscular, but he was strong enough for my liking. When he was human, he had messy blond hair, and pale blue eyes that drew you in.

When I finally came too, I was greeted by a bright white light, which was a bit concerning to say the least. Shortly after however, Doctor Braver came into focus.

“WHAT were you thinking? Going in there all alone? Are you mad?” She screamed at me, throwing her hands in the air.

“Completely bonkers. But that’s what makes me a great scientist,” I said, sitting up on the gurney. I noticed my right forearm was wrapped in gauze, and they had three distinct lines of blood casting a shadow on them.

“It’s what’s going to get you killed in this lab!” She scolded me, with her face scrunched as tightly as her bun. “Subject W42 is the reason you were brought here in the first place, and if you had let me finish before running off like that, I would have told you why! Subject W42-”

“Justin! His name is Justin!” I corrected through gritted teeth.

“Not anymore,” Doctor Braver said solemnly. It sent shivers down my spine thinking about what she meant.

“We attempted this experiment with other subjects. He was the only one who survived. You were almost right when you first saw him, Doctor O’Dame.” She said sitting spread eagle on a chair, “He is a werewolf. But not in the sense that he changes with the full moon, or has a feud with a sparkly vampire. No, our werewolf is something that science has never seen before. And we need you to crack him.”

“Me?”

“Yes! You see Doctor O’Dame there were moments in the experiment where, even in wolf form, he would tap your name in morse code on the door. Well, that and Harley, but we couldn’t find a ‘Harley’ with any relation to him. So, we assumed he meant like a motorcycle or boat he had.”

“Harley? He tapped Harley?”

“Yes! Does that mean something?”

“It used to. We used to joke that we were like Harley Quinn and Deadpool, because of our jobs. Him being a soldier and I being a psychologist. Not to mention the color schemes matched. So, we came up with a catchphrase of sorts. ‘Deadpool and Harley, forever and always.”

Then I remembered something I hadn’t in a very long time. The way he looked at me, the way he smiled, the way it felt when his arms were wrapped around me. Justin was only about a foot taller than I was when he was human, now he towered over me. Once again, tears welled in my eyes, but I kept them back. Then I looked down at my bandaged arm.

“I need to go back in.”

“We thought you might. So, this time, safety measures are going to be put in place. We’re going to put you both in a bigger room, and we’re going to turn on the sensors for your protection. This time, he won’t be able to hurt you.”

They had me change into my own set of black tank top and cargo shorts before they escorted me to the new room where Justin and I were to meet. The path we took to get there resembled a maze, but I guessed it was just another one of their precautions. I no longer felt like another doctor in the lab. Now, I was another test dummy for them to run experiments on.

When we reached the room, the steel door was labeled in the same fashion as the rest of them.

Caution! Experimentation in progress!

Authorized personnel only.

After the stunt I pulled with the first trial of this experiment, I was no longer “authorized personnel.”

They left me alone in front of the door, and told me to wait for further instruction.

“Whenever you’re ready Doctor O’Dame,” a voice finally said from an overhead speaker.

I grasped the handle of the metal door and took a deep breath. I opened the door slowly, and shuffled my way in. The door shut behind me and I heard it automatically lock once more. No way out.

Once again, the beast was nowhere in sight.

“Justin?” I called out. “Justin, it’s me. Siena.” I heard a small growl, and I froze once more. “Jay, I won’t let them hurt you. Just…just come on out, and we can talk. Okay?”

From the end of the room, he emerged into the light on his hind legs. His claws were almost as sharp as his teeth. He stood ten feet tall, and at least six feet wide. He had his paws crossed and his tail between his legs.

He dropped down to all fours, almost cowering before me.

“H-h-Harley?” the beast moaned in a low, gruff voice. The beast looked me up and down. When he saw my bandages, he stepped back and whimpered.  “Harley… hurt?”

“You can talk?” I said in astonishment.

The beast grunted in agreement. “I…hurt…Harley.”

“No, no! I’m ok. I know Justin would never hurt me.”

The beast recoiled at the sound of the name.

“No. Not…Justin.” The beast grunted. Every time he said Justin’s name, it seemed to pain him.

“Not Justin? Where is he?” I asked the beast inching forward.

“Justin…here.”

I inched forward even closer, “What do you mean- “

Suddenly, the wolf lunged for me once again, pushing me into the far wall of the cell, setting off the sirens and initiating the safety protocol. The sirens wailed, and my vision began to blur. Tears streamed down my face, my body began to shake, and my heart was about to beat out of my chest. I curled into a fetal position and just wanted it to stop. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what used to be Justin convulse as well, until he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

When the sirens finally turned off, and I was able to stand and see straight again, I marched over to the door and banged my fists on it until it opened.

“Take me to see Doctor Braver, NOW!” I demanded the young scientist who opened the door for me. He led me to the office where Doctor Braver, as well as a few other scientists were working.

“Turn them off.” I said through gritted teeth.

“What?” Doctor Braver looked at me, puzzled.

“I said turn the sensors off!”

“Are you mad? If we turn the sensors off, that THING could kill you!”

“But he won’t!” I said sternly.

Doctor Braver and I stared at each other, unyielding, for what seemed like hours. Neither of us wanted to back down.

“He wasn’t trying to hurt me, doctor, he was trying to protect me! He didn’t want me to trigger the sensor myself! He was trying to push me out of the way!”

“And why was he trying to keep you out of the sensor?”

“Because Justin knows I have P.T.S.D, and alarms are my trigger! Whether you know it or not, my Justin is still in there!”

Everyone in the room was taken aback by my statement. They all looked to Doctor Braver for what to say next.

“If you die,” she finally rasped, “We have no other option. We’ll have to kill him. He’s too dangerous to release.”

“Doctor, he will not hurt me,” I said firmly.

After a long pause, the doctor released the tension in her shoulders and gave the command. “Turn off the sensors.”

Once again, I was escorted to the room where Justin was, only this time, Doctor Braver came with us.  “Doctor O’Dame,” She started hesitantly, “it didn’t say anything in your file about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, if I had known- “

“It’s not something I readily talk about.”

“Right.” She looked slightly embarrassed. “I am quite curious though. Why do alarms affect you so? For the sake of your own safety.”

I looked down at the floor as we walked. It wasn’t something I enjoyed reliving. “When I was in high school,” I began, “a shooter came to my school. They pulled the fire alarm to try and flush us all out into the parking lot. The teachers didn’t let us leave. Instead, they told us to stack desks against the door, and sit in the corner as quietly as possible. An hour. That’s how long it took them to turn off the alarm. Most of us came out untouched. Most of us.” I pulled up my shirt to reveal a small scar from where a bullet pierced my stomach. “The shooter broke through the glass window in the door and aimed the gun at one of my friends. Doctors said it would have killed her if I didn’t shield her. It’s a small price to pay to be a ‘hero’.”

All of us were silent for the rest of the walk.

When we reached the door, I was again left alone until I was ready to go in.

Once inside, I walked calmly to the center of the room and sat Indian style on the cold concrete floor. Then, I waited for him to come out.

After a minute or two, he too came into the light and sat down in front of me, looking even larger and more intimidating than the last time.

“Hi again,” I said with a smile.

No response.

“I promise I won’t let them hurt you this time. Not again.”

The wolf shifted its weight a bit, but didn’t respond.

“Where is Justin?” I asked the wolf, standing.

“Justin…here.”

“Where? Inside of you? Did you…eat him?”

“No,” he said, shaking his massive head. “Justin…here.” The giant wolf said as he bowed, touching his nose to his heart.

“Justin… is in your heart?”

The giant creature shook its head once more. Then, he laid as flat on his stomach as he could and shifted until he was inches away from me. “Justin…here.” The beast repeated.

“I’m sorry, but I… I don’t understand.” I said, dropping to my knees.

Then the creature searched around the room for something. When he came to a chair, he slowly moved it across the room to where he had been sitting before.

“Justin…” Then he ran behind the chair, making himself as small as possible.

“Justin…is hiding?” I asked.

The beast excitedly wagged its tail.

“Justin’s hiding! From who?” I asked, just as excited.

The beast looked disappointed in me. Then he repeated the same motion as before. “Justin…here.” Then he hid behind the chair.

Several times he repeated this motion.

Think Siena. What is Justin trying to tell you? Justin. Here. Hide. Justin, is here, but he’s not hiding? Then I remembered something I hadn’t before. When Justin was packing to leave, he took one book with him, Jekyll and Hyde.

I remembered the way our dimly lit apartment smelled of burnt garlic bread and lasagna. Justin attempted to make me dinner before he left. We drank a white wine we had been saving for a special occasion, and then I helped him pack. We kept getting distracted, and slow dancing to the music we turned on. Our hands fit together like Tarzan and Jane’s, and our bodies seemed to move as one.

“Justin, my Deadpool,” I whispered as we danced, “Even though our engagement’s been called off until you get back, I can’t wait to marry you,” I said, kissing him gently.

“As you wish, my Harley,” he whispered back.

When the song ended, we turned off the music and finished packing his remaining few items.

Then, we crawled into bed, and he grabbed Jekyll and Hyde off the nightstand. Gently wrapping his arms around me, he read aloud from the book. I mindlessly traced the veins on his hand with my thumb, memorizing every divot of his skin as he read. “I learned to recognize the thorough and primitive duality of man; I saw that, of the two natures that contended in the field of my consciousness, even if I could rightly be said to be either, it was only because I was radically both.”

He wasn’t hiding from me; he was telling me his name!

“Justin!” I shouted excitedly. The beast stopped. “Chapter ten. Page one hundred and four. That was the last thing you read to me before you left. Before Justin left. That next morning, I found a note on your coffee cup, ‘Forever and Always my Harley. Love Deadpool.”

The beast jumped up and down excitedly, shaking the entire room and knocking me over. When he saw me on the ground, the monster froze, calmed down, and walked over to me. He helped me to my feet, but he remained on all fours.

“Can…Can Justin hear me?” I asked.

Again, the creature nodded.

“You’re not Justin?”

The creature shook its head.

“What should we call you?”

The beast didn’t answer.

“Grog? Steve? Fluffy?”

The beast shook its head in disapproval.

“How about Hyke? It’s like Hulk, but…cooler.” I suggested.

“H-h-Hyke. Me…Hyke. Justin…here.”

“Okay, different question. Can Justin ever come back?”

This time the creature nodded, and gently smiled.

“How?”

Before I got an answer the room filled with a sweet-smelling white smoke. My vision went blurry, and my limbs felt as if they weighed 100 pounds each. I felt my entire body wobble, and my legs gave out. And once again, the room went dark.

When I woke up, I was back in my hotel room, as if it was all a bad dream. But, if it was a bad dream, I would still be in Australia, on my boat, studying the wildlife of the deep. No. This experiment was all too real. On my bedside table, on the base of the lamp I saw a sticky note.

“Javier will pick you up at 8:30 am. Sorry about the possible hangover.

- Doctor Braver”

I looked at the digital clock next to the lamp, 6:13am. Not knowing what else to do, I looked through the pay-per-view movies on the hotel tv, and thankfully found an old version of Jekyll and Hyde. The quality was gritty, and the voices were a bit distorted, but it gave me what I needed.

The movie ended at 8:15, leaving me just enough time to get coffee from a nearby Starbucks, and meet Javier outside of the hotel.

The car he picked me up in had black out windows, and a screen dividing the front and back seats. I wasn’t sure whether to be scared or honored.

When we finally reached the facility, two of the scientists asked me to change into my tan attire, and a lab coat.

“I need to speak to Doctor Braver immediately,” I said once I finished getting changed.

“No need to file a formal invitation Doctor, I’m right here,” she assured me, coming from behind a changing curtain herself.

“Doctor Braver, I think I know how we can bring Justin back- “

“Bring him back?” Braver laughed. “We don’t want him back.”

“What do you mean? Isn’t that why you brought me here?”

“Good heavens no! We want you to train him! Make him like the other patients. You know…obedient.”

“Obedient? But he’s clearly not like the other subjects! He’s- “

“Different? He’s…stronger? Kinder? Oh no I’ve got it, he loves you more than anything in the world, and you know in your heart that he wants to come back to you!” she mocked. “Trust me, Doctor. I’ve heard it all before.”

“You…you knew? You knew he was trying to get to me?”

“Well, not at first. But after your first encounter with him, it became very clear that he still had some of his conscious mind left. He did put up one hell of a fight though.”

“He never scratched me, did he? You did. When I was unconscious.”

“Yes. But we had no choice.”

“No choice? You’re scientists, there’s always another choice- “

“Not this time!”

My head was spinning. How could she have done this? How could I have been so stupid as to let it happen?

“An antidote. Do you have an antidote?” I sneered.

“Of course we do, don’t be stupid. We have an antidote for all our subjects. It’s called a gun.”

She pointed a small handgun at me, and whatever scientists were still in the room had fled.

“This isn’t right Doctor Braver. You know it as well as I do. Plus, what’s a simple bullet to a beast like that?” My voice shook. I raised both of my hands, but didn’t move otherwise.

“The government isn’t paying me to do things right, Doctor O’Dame. They’re paying me and my boss for results! And if you won’t do it, then there are plenty of others just like you who will. And as for the bullet, you’re absolutely right. You see this particular bullet is lined with a poison of my own creation. When our first bullets didn’t work, we had to get a bit more... creative. Like you said, there’s always another way. Now, you have two choices, either get in the cage and make that MONSTER do as we tell it to, or suffer the same fate it does.”

“Fine! I’ll help you.” I said after a minute or two. “But I want in. I won’t put my life on the line without getting something in return.”

“That can be arranged.” She said lowering the weapon.

“I want a gun of my own. For protection.”

She looked me up and down, then called back to the room without breaking eye contact. “Emily! Get Doctor O’Dame a gun.”

I was given a small handgun, loaded without poison bullets. Then we walked back to the steel doored room where Justin was being kept. I tried to memorize every turn we took. Left, right, second hallway, door code 3-3-6-4, right. After a while, the directions got jumbled in my head, and the various codes seemed to morph together. Damn security measures.

This time, Doctor Braver went in with me. We both made our way to the center of the room, and waited for Hyke to make an appearance.

A growl came from the darkness, this time accompanied by the sound of chains. He came through the darkness snarling at Doctor Braver, choke collar secured around his neck. Blood dripped from where the collar was screwed into his skin.

“You chained him up?”

“You might be willing to greet him without precaution, but I’m not. When you had the sensors shut off, I had to resort to different means.”

Hyke let out a deafening bark that reverberated around the room.

“Down doggie. Don’t make this worse than it has to be,” was all Doctor Braver said.

I walked over to Hyke, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry they’re doing this to you,” I whispered. “We’ll figure a way out. I promise.” I looked at Doctor Braver, “He won’t hurt you while I’m here. The chains aren’t needed.”

“My dear, do you think I was born yesterday?” she said with a chuckle. “He’s in shackles because he only listens to you. Take those off, and I lose all the power.”

This was the final straw. I unholstered my gun and aimed it at her, and she did the same with me.

“I don’t want to shoot you Ms. O’Dame. Don’t be- “

“It’s Doctor O’Dame!”

“Either way, don’t be stupid. Put the gun away, and we can forget you ever took it out in the first place.”

Hyke growled at her once again, and shielded me partially with his right paw. Even in this state, all he wanted to do was protect me.

“It’s two against one Doctor Braver. I wouldn’t take my chances.” I threatened from behind him.

“I would.” She let a bullet fly, and so did I.

As if in slow motion, Hyke moved in front of me, pulling against his shackles making the spikes of the collar rip into his throat. Before the poisoned bullet reached me, it entered his ribs instead. He yelped, and blood flowed from his neck, and his side. At this rate, even without the poison, he was losing too much blood to survive. He collapsed onto me, knocking me to the ground and rendering me unable to move.

My bullet on the other hand just grazed the doctor’s shoulder. She turned and winced in pain, clutching her arm. She manically laughed as she turned back to face the two of us.

“We could have been so good together, Doctor O’Dame! Could you imagine what this thing could do? No more war! No more guns or hidden bombs! This creature could have created world peace!” She broadly gestured, as if making an award-winning speech.

“Or started a dog fight where everyone loses.” I grimaced, slowly being crushed by Hyke.

“There will always be winners and losers!” She began walking toward us, “It’s up to us to decide which side of history we’re going to be on.” She crouched down low, so that she and I were face to face. “Too bad neither of you will be there to see it.”

She placed the barrel of the gun to my forehead.

In that instant, Hyke used his last bit of strength to grab Doctor Braver in his jaw and snap her in two. She didn’t even have time to scream, but the sound of her broken bones and shredded muscles rang in our ears.

Hyke tossed her to the side, and laid back down on top of me.

“Justin, I'm so sorry. I thought I could get us out of this. I thought I could save you.” I said through tears. “Maybe I still can.”

I rifled through his fur to find where the bullet pierced his skin. I followed the trail of blood to find the hole, and as carefully as I could, tried to find the lodged bullet. Compared to Hyke’s massive size, my fingers were like tweezers.

When I finally managed to pull the bullet out, I tossed it to the side, but not before it left a lime green residue on my fingers.

“I can reverse engineer a cure. Just…just hold on please!” I screamed to the empty room for help. “I need a doctor! Please! Somebody help him!” But no one came.

Hyke stirred slightly, wincing in pain.

“Harley,” he moaned. “Justin…l-l-love…Harley. Hyke…love…Harley.”

“No. Please. I just got you back. Don’t go.” I said tears streaming down my face.

In my arms, Hyke began to shift and shake. His paws turned back into feet and hands, his fur began to fall off, and his facial features began to look more human. As Hyke convulsed, his massive collar and chains fell to the ground next to him, causing a loud crash of metal on the concrete.

“Hyke? What’s happening?” I said backing away.

Hyke continued to convulse, and he grew smaller and smaller, until he was fully human and a bloody mess on the floor.

I crawled back over to him, and lifted his body onto my lap. I brushed some hair away from his closed eyes, but recognized him still.

“Hyke?...Justin?”

Whoever this was, I was now crying into his chest.

“Hey beautiful,” came a voice that I finally recognized.

“Justin?”

“Yeah,” he assured me in a raspy, pained voice. “It’s me.”

I pulled him close and let out a sigh of relief. He groaned from the pain.

I frantically apologized, then asked “So, you’re going to be okay right? You can come home?”

He looked at me with the kindest eyes, and I knew then that I wouldn’t like the answer to my question.

“Siena,” he wiped a tear from my eye, “you are my home.”

“No. No, it can’t end like this. We can’t end like this! I can’t lose you again! I can help you. I can fix this!”

“Stop. Siena, please…stop.” He kissed me gently, “Siena, you could never truly lose me.” Then, with his dying breath said, “I love you, my beautiful Siena. Forever and always.”

[bluetorchsky]

Haha! Now he knows the “wrath” of Accordion putting Toppats to sleep! (he doesn’t always carry that pillow, it will depend on who he is trying to get back into bed for sleep they need) But honestly Pollo, get some damn sleep, can’t be too tired around those chemicals!

I would have drawn something, but since I’ve been so busy with work, I quickly wrote up a drabble for it instead!

Four days. Four days since Pollo actually had a proper rest in his room. If he wasn’t napping in the Cafeteria, he was definitely sleeping next to the chemicals and tools he had around him.

He yawned, stretching his back as he pushed another finished rocket to the side. “Mmph…need coffee…” He mumbled tiredly, eyes starting to become blurry from the lack of sleep.

As he slowly stood up from his stool and shuffled to the other side of his lab, where the coffee maker sat with lukewarm coffee still in its pot, Pollo stopped halfway when he thought he heard something. Something skittering across the floor, and the ground beneath him just sinking a little.

He shook his head and groaned. “Need coffee…my precious rats…are in their cage…just imagining things, Pollo.” He muttered to himself, continuing to shuffle to the table that has his precious drink.

When he finally reached it, he noticed he left a clipboard there and picked it up to read it. As he did, he didn’t hear the soft squeak of the metal floor, and the stilled heavy breathing coming up behind him.

Only when Pollo did look over his shoulder, he was instantly knocked out by a soft pillow, smacking his face right in the cheek.

Pollo’s head swam and he chuckled, seeing visions of Test Subject 73 and Test Subject 7 running back and forth in his vision.

“No, no…back to sleep…my little rats..,” He said, laughing a bit wildly before he fell face first to the floor.

Except he didn’t. As soon as he went unconscious, a large blue gloved hand caught him. They let out a heavy sigh, looking at the state of his private lab.

Accordion shook his head, and carefully carried Pollo into his arms. “Another one on the list.” He mumbled to himself, turning on his heel to leave the lab. He tucked the pillow he used to hit Pollo under the scientist’s head, humming softly under his breath as he walked.

Pollo was going in and out of consciousness. But as he listened to that strange melody that suddenly appeared in his ears, he let his eyes close shut, pushing his head more into the plush pillow.

————

“Pollo? Are you waking up?”

The scientist groaned and slowly opened his eyes, blinking confusingly. “W-Whu…where…” He carefully moved his head side to side, seeing he was in one of the Toppat dorm rooms. “…Where am I?”

“My room, piccolo!” Danny said happily, clasping his hands as he smiled down at Pollo. “Oh, my dear Pollo, you really needed that sleep, didn’t you?”

Pollo carefully pushed himself up, groaning as he felt a headache from sitting up too quickly. “I guess…” He blinked a few times before his hand tried to find his goggles. “H-How long was I out?”

“Oh, um…three days, piccolo.”

Pollo’s breath hitched, his eyes widening. “T-That long?!” He tried to get out of the bed, willing his legs to move. “I-I have to go back! at he rockets–”

A large hand gripped his shoulder, making him stop. “Are staying in your lab, which has been locked up until you woke up.” Accordion said to Pollo, his face hardened but a soft look in his blind and green eyes. “Danny took care of your rats while you were sleeping. You seriously needed it.”

Pollo looked up at the larger Toppat before looking back at his poppa. Danny rubbed his hands nervously, a concerned and worried look on his face. There were some bags under his eyes, a sign he had stayed up at least one night to watch over him.

The young scientist looked back and forth between the two Toppats, before he sighed and nodded. “Okay…maybe one more day of rest?”

“Talk it over with the doctor that’s coming over. They’ll clear you when they feel you’re ready to go back.”

As Accordion bowed his head to Pollo and Danny and was about to leave, Danny rushed over to him and hugged his side. “Grazie again, Fisarmonica! Really, thank you for checking up on him.” Danny said, sniffling as he fought back his tears.

Accordion just chuckled, and patted Danny’s head. “Just doing my job, Danny.” He said before giving Pollo a smile. “Besides, I say we’re even for the upgrades to my prosthetics, hm?”

Pollo smiled, chuckling. “Yeah, definitely!”

He probably could add something else to those prosthetics, but he would wait until he was back in his lab and finishing up those rockets.

Pollo will sleep for at least 3 days XD

Later...

Pollo couldn't fight against accordion XD That little fight must have lasted 20 minutes before he passed out from sleep on the pillow

At least Danny will take good care of Pollo :) he hasn't slept for a few days…

Accordion belongs to @bluetorchsky

Danny belongs to @capturecharlesau

[thegrandlinesimp]

Hi again! Thanks for replying to so quickly and explaining things! =) I read the rules and adjusted to it (it's not like there's a lack of OP characters I like :D). Would you maybe want to do HC for Kid and Zoro with a female S/O that is a scientist, wears glasses and while she's far from having a strength matching theirs, she instead uses speed and smarts to her advantage (in fights and daily life). Both SFW and NSFW would be interesting to me, I don't mind which. In case you would want to go a NSFW route, may I request the inclusion of creampie? I'm not sure how detailed or rough requests should be to be better, please just let me know! =) Thanks again for being so nice!

I tried so hard with this one, been mulling over it three days and I just couldn’t get Zoro’s to work??? Like, I had 4% of an idea but didn’t know where to go with that, the only reason I was able to do Kid’s is because I have an OC (old dude though) who’s the Kid pirate’s doctor but is more of an all-round mad scientist, snipped a few concepts off that and yeah...

Sorry I wasn’t able to do it all, I really tried with NSFW, but I just couldn’t see the boys treating their s/o differently in bed just cause she’s a scientist (apart from Kid making the odd explosive joke, you’ll see why) that and you don’t have your age anywhere on your blog so I didn’t feel comfortable filling an NSFW ask without knowing it.

TLDR; you had a lot of detail but not where it really counted?

Also, this is like the second time I’ve done the whole “this is how you two guys got together” thing without being asked to??? I like story building 😅

Anyway I hope this isn’t too much of a train wreck for what it’s worth.

Kid with a Scientist Fem!S/O

(S/O’s scientific field - chemical warfare and explosives)

At first Kid wasn’t too keen on meeting this person Killer said would be great on the crew, some chick scientist? What’s so great about staring at colourful water in a flask (unless it involves metal he knows nothing about science)

But his ears perked up at the word “explosives”.

…scientists can make bombs?

The moment he met you he was secretly smitten, hair up in a tight bun, white lab coat hugging your curves and those. Damn. Glasses.

The way you looked at him over the rim of your glasses, that stern, unimpressed look as you raised an eyebrow as if to say to Killer “this is your incredible Captain?”

Man was simping hard

Having no where to really set up a proper lab, Eustass “help-me-this-woman-is-maddeningly-hot-and-ten-thousand-times-smarter-than-me” Kid was more than happy to have the back half of his overly large workshop converted into a suitable workspace for you

Whenever the two were working on your own projects in there he kept asking you what you thought of what he was making

Dude was not subtle about his crush

But it all came to a head when he thought “fuck it” and left about a dozen of these on your lab table

And what himbo loving woman could say no to that?

He’s surprisingly grateful for having you on the crew, despite specialising in chemical warfare and explosives, since you joined there’ve been fewer battle-induced injuries throughout the crew

That’s thanks to your “cannonball-bomb”, an explosive that can just survive the propelling blast of being shot from a cannon, but is just damaged and intact enough that when struck/it hits the ground, it explodes

10x more devastating than a normal cannonball, not just because of the explosion, but the shrapnel from the metal casing too

Takes out way more enemies at a safe distance, leading to an easier fight once they disembark the ship

Not too easy though, due to the amount of resources needed to make the weapons and Kid wanting a challenge

Marine ships have been given the order to steer clear due to this unless a Devil User is amongst the crew

Kid was pissed before finding out why the crew hadn’t run into a lot of marine ships

Massive ego boost for him, he’s dating a woman who scared the entire Naval fleet off

The future Pirate King’s Queen is already making a name for herself without his help and he couldn’t be more proud

You also make tiny bombs that can fuck up locks when pushed into keyholes, meaning the crew suddenly has the option for stealth

Not that Kid often takes it

The two of you have made several projects weapons together

You both agree your favourite is the “exploding mouse”, a little metal windup mouse that - once the windup key has finished turning - explodes

Kid likes to use slightly rusty metal for the wheels so it actually squeaks when it moves, it’s a great distraction for those rare times Kid (read: Killer) wants to be stealthy

A mini explosion version has been used more than once to prank crew members

Killer was your first victim, the poor man nearly pissed himself cause he picked up the mouse before the key stopped turning, luckily he was cooking in the kitchen and was wearing an oven glove

The glove has thankfully been the only casualty of your pranks

You and Killer pranked your boyfriend once with the mouse bomb

After that pranks were banned

[raisengen]

Quick summary of Earthspirit's operator record, because I know 99.5% of you won't E2 her (for a good reason, she’s quite possibly the weakest operator in the game):

We open on Provence dropping in on Earthspirit (ES) and finding she’s teaching Eyjafjalla (or Adele, as ES calls her) to play the piano on her miniature pipe organ. Eyja is making good progress off her natural talent. As a Lethanian, ES prefers this as a downtime activity, and might take more students in the future. She notes also that musical education is prestigious but hard to come by in Leithanian Infected ghettoes, so this should help Eyja hide her status if she returns to Leithanien.

Provence remembers why she’s here, and dumps a bunch of urgent analysis work on ES, courtesy of the Doctor (or “that jackass”, as ES calls them). ES complains that RI hasn’t enough geologists and no geology lab to make this doable in the timeframe given. However, when Eyja offers to help she immediately declines.

ES instead tells her to rest up for her upcoming mission, just like she’d told her she needed a break from piano practice. ES will get some rest too – what about all the work?, asks Provence. ES says that rest and entertainment are important for giving 100%, all the more so for research work where a tired worker could go in circles for days on a problem that would take half an hour with a clear head.

Well since ES has that all under control, Provence dumps more work on her, this time her own Catastrophe Messenger (CM) work. ES grumbles some more, complaining that she only ever sees Provence for work.

Provence says this is one of those times, as she’s still got work to do herself and starts to leave. ES asks if she has any requests:

Eyja queries

why

you’d want an illegible report, and Provence explains this is mainly an ass-covering exercise for CMs. Rather than taking all the responsibility of the call on whether or not a city should relocate to avoid a catastrophe upon themselves, they can present reports commissioned from scientists as supporting evidence; the actual content is less important, as long as it’s proper.

As ES grumbles about her workload some more, it is revealed that it was ES that originally suggested this strategy to Provence in the first place. ES explains that she doesn’t want anyone else to repeat the tragedy of Professor Bachmann the Wise, Earthspirit’s mentor and the person she looks up to the most.

Bachmann was primarily a scholar and musician, but also did a little work as a CM. She was commissioned by a noble to assess whether a Catastrophe would occur, and they demanded an explicit yes/no answer. Known for her caution, and not known for her political nous, Bachmann made the call that they should evacuate the citizens. However, predictions are only best guesses, and the Catastrophe never emerged. When the citizens returned they found their crops ruined from neglect – famine. As the nobles collected what little was left, they made sure to scapegoat (npi) Bachmann, putting all the blame on her calling it wrong. As a result, the citizens formed an angry mob and burned Bachmann to death what the fuck?? Earthspirit are you OK? Have you talked to someone about this?

Damn. Well.

As a result, ES is providing this service to CMs so they aren’t forced to shoulder all the responsibility alone, a burden that breaks more than a few of them. But no, she tells Eyja, this isn’t the reason why she likes geology. It’s not that geology lets her help others, it’s that geology helped her in the first place.

Earthspirit was a smart kid, the sort that reads lots of books and is ahead of the curve in school: in this case on basic Arts and theory. Her parents pinned a lot of their hopes on her progress, but ES explains that unlike Eyja, she found she had no talent when it came to actually using more complex Arts.

She skirts around the topic, but it seems like hitting this wall as a university student with all that pressure on her really did not go well. It was in Bachmann’s geology lessons that she found solace, as she could make progress here on academic understanding alone. Her progress in geology helped her drag herself out of depression, and she could now see a future for herself.

Provence disses geology but ES doesn’t take the bait, and instead talks about how to her it is an endless library that tells the story of every land she can visit. A library that sometimes whispers to her, but let’s not worry about that. Eyja chimes in that lab work and reports isn’t really geology to ES, what she really enjoys is field work (she’s been using her field kit as a makeshift lab in RI). ES is where she is needed, but not where whe wants to be. Come to think of it, she’s been getting more and more requests from CMs she barely knows…

Ah, you see! I, Provence, have been spreading word of how good you are! An excellent geologist and a great Catastrophe Messenger, you know what’s needed from both sides! You’re a legend! “The Master of Fraktur”, they call you! Everyone wants your services! You– hm actually looking at your face reminds me I need to go take a shower quick OKbye–

We close on Provence fleeing for her life as Earthspirit limps after her (leg cramps? It’s not entirely clear) and Eyjafjalla offers to “hunt her down” in her stead, to exact vengeance for all that extra work…

[nitrofuelconsumer]

adding onto this (from a post rotting in my drafts lmao)

i think if someone wanted to date AM they would have to already be aware of his full behavior and understand exactly what they are getting into because something tells me he would also be extremely jealous and possibly manipulative (things they would have to work hard with him to stop)

like if a s/o wanted to date him, they would have to teach him so many things like boundaries (just as you mentioned in your post) and so much more like how to be in a healthy relationship and how to be a normal person.

but let's not forget that they would have to support him with his mental illness/es, especially because getting a doctor is NOT an option, they would need a literal scientist or engineer for that shit.

being in a relationship with AM would be incredibly time-consuming, probably really draining on top of being something that the s/o would have to literally WANT and be MOTIVATED to work for.

NONE of these are things that will come instantly or asap. this would take years of development to basically reconstruct his entire worldview and way of living. i think the s/o in question should first establish some kind of friendship where they are already working with him, preferably be a scientist/engineer working with computers and ai (as you already mentioned) and only THEN could they have a chance of having a proper relationship with him.

but then again it's so sad cuz bro just wants to be loved but he is so aggressive and just pushes everyone away.

btw op u really took some words straight out of my mouth damn LMAO anyways yeah thats my thoughts

ramblings about AM in a relationship/what kind of s/o could fix him. know that im def not a person who’s deep into psychoanalysis / staying strict to a character’s personality so this might be ooc??? idk please bear w me. Whole thing is under the cut bc i think it’s pretty long n p sloppy 2. but enjoy regardless

anyways I rlly like to think that AM would most thrive in a relationship where he has equal / lesser power to his partner. not like whole ass power imbalance obv but just whre cant always hurt/bother his s/o. I’m sure AM would probably say some shit that might hurt his s/o’s feelings but a partner he’d be most compatible w/ would most likely avoid the torture mostly or altogether w/ the exception of verbal harassment cause there’s enough 2 go around 4 everyone. Also bonus points to s/os who are completely untouchable either bc they’re stronger than AM or AM decides that he doesn’t want to hurt them/can’t bring himself to.

also maybe he’d do well w someone who challenges his beliefs. tbh I feel like he’d gravitate towards people who might share his beliefs/hatred towards humanity, but if he’s supposed to grow then he’s gotta have a s/o that views humanity differently. Said s/o doesn’t even have 2 have a strictly polar opposite view on humanity, just a view that isn’t nihilistic and misanthropic. He might not be entirely receptive at first either but the further you continue to challenge his beliefs, the more likely he is to start thinking about other ideas.

Another thing that might make AM a little more accepting towards humans is a s/o that he *has* to rely on one way or another. most likely this is going to be an engineer/programming s/o. He’s likely not going to want to, but him knowing that he can rely on someone else might make him not close himself off as often.

artistic s/os might be able to help soften AM up a little too. i sometimes like 2 think that AM would actually really enjoy art, but it just depends on which kind of art. Realism he won’t really gaf about but he might gravitate towards expressionist works, along with abstract/absurdist and surreal art. this would include all art forms btw not just drawing and painting. reason for thinking he might like abstract over realism is bc realism is too ‘real’ (whatever yall think that would mean) for his liking / represents what he hates most about humanity. Abstract artwork also represents parts he hates ab humanity but it also gives him a physical representation of the things he lacks (ie expressionism w/ feelings/emotions, surrealism with the subconscious thought, etc etc) and might be the closest thing he can get to actually feeling/having senses

AM would most likely benefit from a s/o who is willing to “give” him sensation, whether it be literally by creating him a whole ass nervous + cognitive system that allowed him to have senses and feelings or even just a s/o who is willing to help him understand how certain things feel. This could be by the s/o describing how emotions feel through imagery, creating art w/ AM or *for* AM if he is unable to for whatever reason, etc. it won’t be exactly what he want ofc, but he might not be entirely bitter ab it.

I don’t think AM necessarily needs an android body to show love, but it would help :3c. Even if he still doesn’t have senses for whatever reason, it would absolutely still help him show his love towards his s/o through physical touch. W/o senses, just having his circuit’s warmed by his s/o (if they’re a human) is… well it’s not *enough* but it’ll do. And if he happens to have senses in his android body man he’s gonna be attached 2 u like lice on a healthy head of hair. he WOULD be touch starved.

Which brings me onto my next point. A s/o that can handle his “””affectionate”””side. I rlly feel like his perception of affection might be a little off (super off actually) and likely a little violent/aggressive. It’ll almost be like him having cuteness aggression towards a s/o and acting out on impulse. This might occur in squeezing, pulling and tugging and Android AM may bite and scratch/restrain. Also I when I mean “handle” I don’t exactly mean endure and ignore/accept. again this leads me to another point

A s/o that is able to set boundaries w/ AM is a must. I genuinely don’t think that any relationship w AM will go good if the s/o he’s with can’t put in place proper boundaries. For human s/os, this would be especially important as he might get aggressive physically (whether it’s due to like. him JST absolutely hating ur ass or him getting that ‘cuteness aggressive’ thing I just mentioned previously. note that it’s not rlly like cuteness aggression but he might be like ‘hm I’ll show my love to my s/o thru the only way I know. Violence”).

ok well I think this is all 4 now. if anyone wants 2 add onto it I’d luv 2 hear yalls input if yall had any :3c. I hope u guys atleast got some entertainment value out of this?? Either way i hope yallve enjoyed my ramblings

[boredoverlord]

Bucky X Reader - Hold the Line

I came in here to show you a good time, so here's my personal work and my very first fanfiction of all time. And because I'm a thirsty bitch, of course it's smut.

Summary : As a young and talented psychologist specializing in difficult people in prison, you believed in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with the SHIELD. Turned out you were tricked to work for HYDRA.

For three years they made you do horrors in the name of an ideology you despised, but you may have found the occasion to finally make a change for the good, when they introduced you to your new patient. 

The Winter Soldier.

Rating : Explicit, please kids, look away ( of course you won't because you're cute little rebels, but please do it)

Word count : 6.4k (chapter 1)

TW:   Light BDSM (for now) Because Bucky is a massive Sub and it seems nobody agrees with me, so I have to do the lord's work here.

Foul language, mention of violence and murder, Masturbation, male orgasm and a tiiiny bit of choking. I started lightly 

 Please consider reading this on Archive of our own or read it below the cut. Lemme know what you think !

Chapter 1: A Story of Almost Everything

You never were the type to brag. But one thing you know is : you’re damn good at your job. Years and years of psychology studies, you barely got to parties, you hardly made any friends, and your sleeping schedule is still a nightmare. Those were sacrifices you did for one sole purpose : helping others. To be the last resort for people who have lost everything. You always firmly believed that you could make a change in the world, even the slightest, even for just one person. That would have been enough to make your lifetime worthy. What's more noble than just a genuine try to make it better, after all ? So you wasted your youth on studies, without a damn blink. And never one ounce of regret. You did it because it felt right. You’re not very brave, but you decided to face your fear a couple of times. You even were an intern in a high security prison, talking to broken men and women who hated your guts. Trying to lead them to another path of life. You heard stories that could break any mind. Only time could tell if you actually helped them. But that’s part of the job. Hope. And hard work.

  That’s why when you started to have a growing reputation, at 26 after five years of studies and several years working in prison and rehabilitation, you were ecstatic when S.H.I.E.L.D contacted you. You quit everything, starting with your homeland in Europe, to fly to Washington DC, to visit the headquarters. The new building, the thrill of novelty, the clean rooms, the medical wing, and Alexander Pierce himself coming to shake your hand and telling you personally the wonders they have in mind for the psychology field. You could prepare people to save the world, you could have all the resources to make research, and fix minds that were supposed to be beyond repair. It was supposed to be just a quick trip, but the visit wasn’t even done when you looked at your guide with enthusiasm : you weren’t going home. Just cancel the fly. You’re taking the job immediately.   It was three years ago.

Enough to understand how fucked you are.

 You didn’t save anyone, you didn’t even work to make the world a better place. Oh but you did work to make a change. A change for HYDRA. They tortured you to make you swallow their ideology, but even if your body surrendered, your mind didn’t, even if it was still a perpetual work on yourself. You never believed in this masquerade, but you know it doesn’t matter. Because HYDRA knows how good you are at your job, and you’re a precious asset. So precious that they pushed all your buttons to make you obey. You tried to act and escape. Their last resort is the Damocles sword they put over your family’s head. Next act of rebellion, heads will roll. And it won’t be yours : no, no. HYDRA won’t give you this relief. It will be your loved ones. So you’re doing what you have to do. It’s the most cowardly choice, you know it. And you’re ashamed. But you’re too terrorised to make it otherwise. So you’re here to twist people's minds to swallow whatever Hydra wants. You make them understand the importance of the organization, when they can’t take it anymore, you make them understand that not only they can, but they must . You saw vulnerable people giving their life to this awful cause, and you are the person to make them understand it was the right thing to do. They gave you kind people with dreams, morals and passion, and you turn this into anger, hate and war, worshipping a crazy doctrine that spoils everything you believed and fought for. You have blood on your hands. You’re THAT good at your job.

 So when they called you for a highly secret mission, you weren’t exactly surprised. Just disgusted by them, and mostly yourself. In the guts of what was called the Ideal Federal Saving Bank, you’re obediently following the chef himself : Alexander Pierce, to your next place of action. “I believe you have read your mission’s order, Y/N ?” “Yes Sir.” You said. “It did mention I will have the whole file today, though. I need to take a look at my patient so I can work in proper condition.” “Whatever you call it.” He said, opening the door of the clandestine laboratory in the now abandoned bank. If not for the machinery, we could still believe that those art deco walls filled with safes would still contain treasures of a lifetime for some people. Now there is nothing of value in here, not even the very skin of every PoS present. And you were including yourself. Making your way in the middle of the heavy set up, you slowly reach the pod in the middle, chewing secretly the interior of your cheeks. You know what’s inside, and it makes you want to puke. Mr Pierce continued “Doctor, as your mission was presented to you, your one on only assignment will be the physical and mostly the psychological perfect condition of the Winter Soldier, for the entire length of this mission on american soil.” Basically, be sure his brain is a fucking slushy. You reluctantly nodded and drew closer. “What’s his condition ?” At the top of your height, barely 5’3, you tiptoed to actually look at him by the window of the cryostasis chamber, since you never got this close of a look, not without the file and basically crumbs of info that were thrown at your face. They expected you to keep a dog on a leash, not making actual work on him, and it shows. White man, late 20s to early 30s, approx 5”7, long dark messy hair, not shaved, geez, it seemed like the poor guy was barely cleaned up before being pushed here.  Good physical condition, breathing was steady. You could see the steam of his breath on the glass. He may be clinically asleep, but she highly doubted he would be in his best shape. He looked uncomfortable, and tired. It wasn’t a restorative sleep. It was a prison. You couldn’t help but notice his prosthetic arm, even if that was the only thing you knew about him. It’s a fascinating work of science, that’s for sure. And even if transhumanism and biomechanical wasn’t your forte, you wanted to have a closer look, to satisfy your curiosity. One of the scientists watching his screen responded : “He’s gently defrozing, should be half conscious in 5 minutes. You may want to take a step down.” You ignore that, and lean your hand to your superior. “May I finally have what I have been asking for ?” With the most irritating smile, he gave you the Winter Soldier’s File and you quickly opened it to have a first look at all the fuss. Basic physical information, previous missions report, date of entering and ending of cryostasis, bare minimal medical record, notes by her predecessor, fucking trigger words to make him kneel like a 12 years old in front of any boysband... nothing about his previous life, his antics, his name, actual disorders, no name, nor adresses… You glaced a bit at Pierce and threw a polite smile. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows you know. You’re extremely good with very violent patients. You have endured rapists and murderers spiting in your face and swearing to bite your head off and fucking your skull. You were traumatized and you cried yourself to sleep, but the following day you did your job again. You’re just here to handle the worst of the worst. And you’re going to do it.

Or he’s going to break your neck and fuck your skull. You’re fine with that.

“Thank you it’s going to be very helpful.” As helpful as a band-aid on a wooden leg. “What’s this device ?” You point your chin to another machine not far away from it. One of the two men finishing installing it, raised his head to look at you. “A memory suppressing machine. Usually he doesn’t need it as much as he used to, but it’s mainly for safety. He must be prepared.” “He’s in a state where he willingly takes it. So don’t hesitate if he’s starting to be annoying, or excited. That can happen. But that mean you would probably have to work more with him to make him fully ready for his mission,” “Understood, thank you for clarification gentlemen.” You smiled and they smiled back. You’re a woman, so you’re used to it. Basically this shit was supposed to hack his brain, and it must be painful. “I would strongly recommend not using it at such a time. From what I quickly read he needs stability and time. Wiping everything out will more likely create more confusion.” You took a look at the file again and took it upon yourself to not have your eyes double in size and screaming at this bunch of idiots. “... and it does seem he’s using it a lot.” 

“We want the asset to be as focused as possible.”

“I understand that, but that's a temporary solution at best. He’s got a brain, not a harddrive. We still don’t know how it can store information, and if it can…” “The last time we used him was five years ago…” Started Pierce, with diplomaty, but also with a tone that wasn’t allowing any more debate on the matter. “And this mission is an absolute priority. The asset is strictly under cryostasis procedure as soon as he’s not needed anymore. The machine will be used if needed.” “I understand your point.” You absolute psychopath. “Then my request is simply to be here if it happens, and to be able to control the shocks. Also, I insist that he must be in perfect condition when you launch the procedure, I’ll personally make it happen and give you a green light.” “Thank you for your hard work.” He said, raising his hand, that you promptly and politely shook. You could feel the angry grasp. “I know you’re the perfect woman for this hard job. Your work is an inspiration for us all.” You wish you could end your life right here right now, instead of being told such atrocities. But you think about your mom and dad. At this time of year they start to prepare the pool for the summer, for the future neighborhood barbecues where they will brag to everyone about their incredible psychiatrist daughter who is doing secret stuff over sea to help save the world. You have to be strong. At least for them. At least for now.

“Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra.” You responded, while your tongue feels like sandpaper.

  “Ok he’s starting to wake up…” Someone warns, as Pierce leaves the room, unbothered. The pod opens before your eyes, as the asset -you hate this term- is being roughly handled and carried away by two dudes to his seat. The one dangerously close to the memory suppressing machine. You squatted in front of him, the time for him to blink several times and look around him. Confused, but it’s not exactly his first rodeo either. His eyes are quickly focused on the first thing in front of him : you. He looked like he was trying to remember who you are, but quickly realized he didn’t know you. Two blue spears digging right into your soul. That’s making you a bit uncomfortable. The same weird feeling of unease you have when a cat is watching you taking a shower. “Hi.” You started, in english, even if he could be from italy you had no freaking clue. You guessed that he was probably slavic. But the file says he’s speaking more than ten languages. And it wasn’t specified when and how the hell did he learn that. “Can you hear me?” He took a few more seconds to look at you, probably the time to finish reading every embarrassing moment of your life, right into your eyes, like your drunk 18th birthday when you finished in your panties swimming in a city fountain, but he nodded eventually. You actually know this look. But it’s the first time you have a super soldier in front of you so it’s of a rare intensity. He’s dissecting you. Gathering information. His eyes moved slightly down : a recent scar on your neck. Right : an ex piercing on the top of your ear, now unusable. Down left : he just realized you’re slightly unbalanced so he knows you have a hip issue. And down right : he’s looking at your hand, you don’t really know what he saw here, maybe calculating how to break them ? You were literally a foot in a viper’s nest. Were you terrified ? Absolutely. Will that forbid you to do your job ? Nope. “Can you follow the light ?” You asked, moving slowly your phone’s lamp from left to right in front of his eyes. He did it without questioning. “Ok good.” You tried a smile, not really knowing why. If he was at least a tenth as clever as the file said he was, he perfectly know that you’re here to fuck him up. But you couldn’t help it. Poor dude. He was visibly more or less your age. He could have been a prince, or thief, a womanizer, or a priest, whatever, HYDRA took everything from him. From his free will, of his right to grow old, to his sleep. “Can you tell me your name ?” He frowned, perplexed. “Winter Soldier.” Shitty answer but at least he was fully aware, and his tongue was working properly. “Nice to meet you, I’m doctor Y/N. We’re here to work together in preparation of your next assignment. Do you understand ?” He nodded, unimpressed. “Good, can you get up ?” He did, so you did it too. And he realized that you were… very short. His eyes literally went up and slooowly down. That was a bit mean, actually. You carefully took a glance behind you, and your eyeroll could probably trigger an earthquake. “Can you all nice gentlemen let down a bit of their weapon ?” You said at the 6 dudes with rifles literally fixed on him, ready to shoot at the wrong twitch of muscle. No wonder he wasn’t talkative. “You won’t say that when he will break your neck with two fingers, ‘mam.”

“He’s pretty stable for now. Plus he’s not fully awake, let’s give him time before threatening him, shall we ?”

Nobody moved for ten seconds before one of them complied, since you didn’t move. The rest of the bunch reluctantly followed . You looked at your patient, hoping that that would have made him a bit more relaxed. Nope, he didn’t give a shit. He wasn't even looking at them. He was looking at you. You’re the mystery of this room to him. But you didn’t need extra vision to understand that Docs treated him like a guinea pig, so he was very understandably extra careful with you. Standing on his feet, all his muscles ready for action,  that’s the exact moment you realized how close you two were. Indeed, if he decided to, your jaw would fly across the room in a single move. You never had such a display of sheer raw strength, and you could feel the heat of his body radiate.

 “He needs a shower, and clothings.” You said, having a look at his 5 years old combat suit still reeking the smell of his sweat. It was intoxicating. They didn’t even allow him to clean himself. Poor dude was frozen in his own filth for the last five years. And you didn’t know why you took an even deeper breath. “And I’m talking about comfy workout clothes, no combat suit. Please escort him and handle him with care, before bringing him to my office.” You actually decided to be sure he wouldn’t be mistreated, by waiting outside the man’s bathrooms. You weren’t certain of how he could react, and you didn’t trust anyone here. If one of them decided to do a piss contest with your patient, it could end badly. So you put your hands in your pockets, looking at the two armed men waiting for the most dangerous assassin in the world to finish scrubbing himself with soap. The atmosphere was heavy and the silence was loud in itself. Even the sound of the shower was stressful and menacing.

 When the Soldier was escorted to your improvised office into the archive, directly linked to a storage room that will be your bedroom for the next weeks, you let him take a seat and promptly blocked the access to the room of the two escort members. “Thank you sirs, that will be all. Please wait here.” They look at you like you just told them you were dating their daughters. “Sorry Miss, but we can’t…” “Sorry Doctor , and I can’t work properly with weapons in my office.” You raised your hand, showing your device on your wrist. Something that would not only call for aid by a simple pressure, but could stun an opponent. Neither them nor you were stupid : it wouldn’t stop The Winter Soldier, maybe he would blink a second at most. But you really wanted to be alone with him. Was he dangerous ? Yes. Were you absolutely certain that you would leave this room alive if you closed this door to their face ? No. But it’s been three years since your priority wasn’t your survival anymore. So you forced a smile and slapped the door. They needed you more than you needed them, so they will obey.

“Douchebags.” You muttered to yourself while coming back to your desk. Your patient didn’t even move a muscle at your little argument. He wasn’t totally inexpressive actually, mostly terribly broody. His hair was still wet from the shower he took, wearing cargo pants, heavy boots and hoodies, generic clothes by HYDRA. You got those too, since you’re not allowed to carry anything personal for mission to mission. You had a tablet for books, music and movies, but that was it. You haven’t opened your shelves yet, but you know it’s full of ugly clothes and generic black panties of doom. 

You took a large inspiration, sat on your desk in front of him, and started : “Ok ‘Winter Soldier’... how are you doing ?” He didn’t even flinch. He was staring into your soul with his eyes lost into dark circles. Depriving someone of proper sleep is a basic rule for brainwash. “You enjoyed the shower ?” Nothing. You waited for a bit to see if he would finally respond. Ten seconds. Twenty. fourty. a minute. When he gathered that you were actually looking for an answer, visibly a first one for him, he finally gave you the courtesy of one. “Yes.” “Perfect.” You didn’t hide your slight smile and tiled your head. “I’ll be sure you’re in your best condition for your next mission. If something’s on your mind, I need to know about it. Nothing will get out of this room. Both of our priorities are your goal, and your condition is the key to success. Which makes you , my high top priority. Do you understand me ?” “Yes.”

“Ok so let’s get going.” You took another file, and took a picture out, ready to handle it to him. “Is the name : Nicholas Fury, ringing some bells to you?” “Yes.” He took it inside his titanium fingers and finally moved his piercing blue eyes away from you to look at the picture. “In two weeks, you’ll be in Washington DC. An entire squad will be deployed to assassinate him. Fury is the leader of the S.H.I.E.L.D, not a mere target. He will break free and fight back. That will be when you’ll show up.” He wasn’t looking at the picture anymore. One thing for sure : at least he was paying attention to you, and what you were saying. And that made you actually kind of proud of yourself. “That was part one. I’ll personally supervise your training with the VR machine and your physical health and condition. I really need you to communicate with me all the time about anything that could be in your mind. The more focused you are, the more Hydra’s plan will succeed.” And what’s that plan ? You have not a single clue. You were a cog in the machine, disposable. Not much more than him. “Do you understand ?” “I understand.” Oh shit, two words this time!

“Good.” You smiled. He didn’t. You move your hands closer to him, to take a grip on the picture. He opened his prosthetic hand, leaving you to take it back. Nothing in his gesture seems dangerous. Just normal, somehow cordial. “I must ask : are you in any pain right now ?” His eyes significantly get from right to left. He must probably wonder why you are asking him that. Did nobody ever ask him such basic questions like : ‘are you in pain?’ This man's sole purpose was to fight, that made no damn sense for you.

“Sir ?” You insisted for an answer, even if the ‘sir’ sounded absolutely ridiculous to your ears. You didn’t know his name, and you don’t feel comfortable calling him “Winter Soldier” , “Soldier”, “Sir De Winter”, “Hey you,he soviet assassin” so it will be “Sir” for now. “Sir are you in pain right now ?” “I’m not in pain.” A complete sentence, that’s progress. You breathed a bit better “Ok good.” You got up from your desk, which was honestly barely taller that him remaining on his chair. He didn’t let go of your eyes and you decided to make a bold move. For now, he was always being responsive so you slowly moved your hands toward him. To his prosthetic hand. “May I take a look, please ?” You glanced at each other, nobody made the first move. In complete silence, if it wasn’t for both of your breaths. You’re almost sure that it has been at least 5 minutes since you decided to speak again. Slowly, and gently, with no signs of confrontation in your body language or speech. “I will not do it until you comply. And you can refuse the contact.” He didn’t answer right away but he finally nodded. 

Slowly, you took his hand into yours, lifting it from his thigh where it was resting. At the beginning it was just taking a look. But he wasn’t making any moves, so you decided to take your observation a little further. You used your other hands to start to move each finger separately, taking a step closer to him. Finally, you made one  of your hands slowly sliding into the hoodie, to feel the muscles, the nerves, how it feels like a real arm. It was cold, but you felt it shudder to your touch. That was the line you decided to not take it further.

“Thank you, Soldier.” You said with a smile, taking away your hands from him. You moved behind your desk, opening your notepad to take a bunch of notes, breaking the contact with him. Just a second. But when you raised your eyes again, The Winter Soldier wasn’t in sight.  

 You shuddered and didn’t make a single move. If it wasn’t for your fingers grasping your desk. You did your best to have a steady respiration and not start to panic. Your throat dried up immediately. You took a deep breath and say : “Please, get back to your seat.” You slowly moved your head to look right back at him. He was standing. His eyes were black, taking loud deep breaths, fixing your behind your shoulder. Tall. Dangerous. You were terrorised. And he could smell it. He didn’t move so you stood up as well, and slowly faced him. You try to remain in total control of your body and not start to fidget. You could scream for help, but for whatever reason, you still had the feeling you could handle the situation. Trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t the first time a patient was disobedient. The only difference was that this one could crush your skull in a bat of an eye, 

 “Get back.” You said once again, bearing his piercing eyes, but he didn’t budge. So you took out your hand and put it on his chest. You felt like an ant against a mountain, but you pushed him a bit. “We will go nowhere this way.” You resumed trying to get a step closer, even if it will be creating a proximity that could be even more lethal to you. “So please, get back to…”

Something happened. It was obvious, and clear as day : you felt the bulge between his legs. Right above your navel. Hardening even more now that he could feel your body. You decided immediately to repress the shameful feeling of your very inside warming up and tickling you. “Winter Soldier.” You growled, angry but trying your best to remain as professional as you could. Of course, of fucking course. This guy was gorged on serum and hormones, quick, violent actions, and adrenaline. Pumping in his veins, burning 24/7. His body was on the edge all the time, and he just awoke from a dreamless slumber. He was a human, whatever all these idiots were thinking, not a freakin’ cyborg. When was the last time he saw a woman that he didn’t smash the head on a wall ? You even suspected that Pierce was counting on it. Nonetheless, you were alone in an office, literally glued with the world's most dangerous assassin, who was having a massive hard-on. Throbbing against you. You had your share of very awkward situations in your short life time. But nothing, nothing prepared you for this. And you had even less of an idea of what to do because he was doing nothing . He was feeling uncomfortable, that you could say, but he wasn’t really doing any moves to attack you, or even take you. He was standing here, with heavy breathing, his eyes still piercing you. And you slowly slided your gaze to his lips, finding the vision of his hard laboured breath strangely mesmerizing.

 Short of ideas, your reflexes took the best (or the worst) of you, and without you realizing it, your hand was around his neck. Your palm pressured on his glottis, and you clearly felt him swallow. As clearly as you felt him becoming even harder. Your breath was starting to shake, as you felt a not-so subtle chill coursing your spin. You drew his face and your face closer, as you finally moved forward, forcing him to move as well. Forcing was a strong word : the last time you hit a punching bag, you hurt yourself and sobbed for an hour. But for whatever reason, he did whatever you wanted. As if he was testing your resolve to make him obey. But there was nothing on his file about this behaviour. He tried to attack, kill and escape. Nothing about testing the limits of anyone.

“You. Will. Sit. Down!” you spat, through your teeth, forcing even more your grip around his neck, as your other hand was reaching for his hair. You pulled it, not too harshly, but you could definitely smell the musk, and the wetness of what stayed of his shower.

You did it. He was sitting down again. And your bodies departed for one another. For once he tried to escape your gaze, which was a strangely human reaction. You both managed to get your breath back, before you decided to call the guard to adjourn your observation.

As soon as the door closed behind them, you felt your legs giving up and you sat on the ground, back against your desk, a small wimp leaving your throat. You felt your eyes starting to wet, and your teeth rattled a bit so you tried to cuddle yourself to try to retake control on your body. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as his intoxicating smell was still all around you. It was by far one of the most terrifying experiences you ever felt, and it was all clouded by the phantom feeling of his body against yours. You could still feel his gaze, his heat, his… well, his cock against your belly. You were still chilling, trying to repress whatever you were feeling at this instant. Because it wasn’t right, for you. Nor him. Everyone in this godforsaken organisation was treating him like a dog, just here to attack and do tricks, but you swore to yourself not to do the same. You will succeed at your mission, but you’ll do it from the crumbs of humanity and morality that HYDRA left you. You will do anything possible that the mission will be complete, the most painless possible for this broken man you just saw. Wait a second.

Painless .

You jumped on your feet, ignoring the numbness of your legs caused by the shock, and you ran at the door, screaming at the three men at the end of the corridor. “HEY !” The guards startled a bit and looked at you “I changed my mind. Bring the Winter Soldier back to my office.” They briefly exchange what seems to be a bunch of insults about you, but they comply to bring the Soldier back. Him ? He seemed absolutely unbothered. 

You closed the door behind the both of you, to the face of the guards yet again. He was standing here, showing his back as you slowly got back in front of him. Hands in your pocket, not really sure of what to do nor how to do it. He was looking at you, this same feeling of unease than before. And for reasons : a small glance confirmed that he was still rock hard. You didn’t make any move for a long time, until you finally put your hand on his chest. You felt his breathing becoming slightly quicker. “You’re not in pain.” You whispered, and he shook his head, negatively. “That was the wrong question. I’m sorry... “ Without you noticing, you had the palm of your hand on his cheek, scrubing lightly his stubble with your thumb as an apology. You breathed in, just couldn’t believe what you were about to say. “Do you need help ?” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes ? They became a bit brighter, you could even see a bit of relief when you saw him nod.

You swiftly move your other index on his pillowy lips as you still lower your voice. “They cannot hear us.” He nodded again as the only feeling of your finger as close to his mouth made him shiver with anticipation. He was literally dying of anything that could relieve him. And for what you understood, as your conversation continued, he trusted you with his body, to provide him with the sweet touch he has been totally deprived of. You slowly push away your index to gently slide your thumb between his lips, and he sighed with pleasure as he took it with an eagerness you would never have believed possible. The most deadly assassin in the world, the legendary Winter Soldier that everyone wishes he wasn’t real, was purring while sucking your finger. If you weren’t the shrink, you’ll be needing one immediately. You gently moved him to make him sit in his chair, he was way too tall for you to handle this with ease. “What about the showers?” You asked him, as you removed your thumb to make it gently slide on his lips, your other hand crawling across his chest to his pants. He swallowed before whispering. “I could but... “ his well built square jaws started to tense, with a visible revulsion. “... They can watch.” Disgusting. He couldn’t even close the damn door of the shower. “You’re safe here.” You said as your hand was finally reaching the bulge behind his Hydra cargo pants. You didn’t know what you expected but… it was way beyond that. He hissed a bit at the feeling of your hand as you started to touch it gently over the fabric. 

Now he was panting, looking at you as you were a single oasis after years of thirst in the desert. “Please…” You heard, barely audible when he was starting to lose it. “I got you, but you have to promise me to be good.” “Anything. Please…” 

And at your very surprise, you obliged him. Using your hand to plunge into his pants, while the other fast pressed into his mouth, muffing the immediate deep moan that escaped at the very second you touched his pulsing penis. He started panting even more, as he used his flesh arm to drive you onto him. His forehead against yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer and closer. Actually you let go of his -massive- erection a second to just drop out his pants, and his breach. You stopped a second, only to watch him begging you with his eyes, as you could feel his saliva at the palm of your hand while you muzzled him. It was it. You realized what kind of power you have over this man. He has been used and abused in every single way, but for once : someone’s finally doing what he wanted. You had his pleasure in your very hands, and for once in years, you could finally help someone. So you’re gonna do it, you’re going to make him feel good. Very good. “Good boy.” You muttered, without knowing where the hell that could come from, and you reached him again. Stroking your hands up and down his shaft, nourishing yourself over the vibration of his muffled moans against your hand. His eyes weren't leaving yours, if it wasn’t for when they seemed to roll to the sky. His vision periodically blackened by the waves of forbidden pleasure he was feeling over his body, who was barely him anymore. Your eyes were gorging on the vision of his handsome muscular man, surrendering himself to your touch, sweating, trembling and panting for you. You were saluted by an utterly satisfied noise the moment you decided to lean over his manhood to drip a large amount of your own saliva moist what was already on the edge of ruin. You rolled your thumb against his tip, massage his veins with just one finger… anything to make him feel something. Anything that wasn’t pure anger, hatred or apathy. You were inclined to believe the file saying that he was nothing but a perfectly built weapon for HYDRA to command. But now, when you tickled, teased and made him shiver, and you felt all his sincere gratitude, you were certain : There is a man in here. And he was finally feeling good .

But soon, it wasn’t enough anymore. Seeing his bare thighs, powerful, thicken by years of training and super soldier serum, tensed by all the nerves and muscles deliciously answering to your call, made your inside warmed up. Your core was aching, screaming for proximity and intimacy, and before you understood what happened, you sat astride on his left thigh. The soft flesh between your legs immediately responded with delight, making you shiver. Almost instantly, you felt his grip on your hip, of the cold metal digging into your flesh with despair. It was a super soldier, with the stamina of several dozen men, but it’s been so long, and you were touching him with perfection. You felt his head on your shoulder, and slowly you started licking his temple, tasting the very fruit of your hard work : his sweat. 

Galvanized by his intoxicating smell, and the thrusting he started giving to your hand, you started to move like a snake, rocking against his skin, looking for some pressure despite the fabric of your pants, mercilessly acting like a barrier of your own pleasure. You could get it off, but it was a limit that you forbid yourself to cross. But it’s true, as you were working him, you couldn’t stop yourself to think of how this would feel. Sliding inside you. You were so very short and fragile, and compared to your hand, his phallus was gigantic. He could ruin you, split you in half, using his bare hands and make you do anything. But the only person in control here, were you. And only you. You never felt anything like this before. And it’s highly probable than neither did he. You tried to vanish the thought, but the more you could feel his thigh between yours, the more you became obsessed.

 The more he was approaching, the more eager the soldier became. Both of his hands firmly gripped on your behind, almost certain that it will leave bruises, but you didn’t care at this very moment. His grunts against your hands became more and more intense, and you started to feel he was about to give in. In between your fingers, small drips of salivas were started to escape. You couldn’t give up your grip now, so you made it even more tight, drawing your lips closer to your hands, you whispered as your sore wrist fastened its path “I’m here for you. Give everything to me.”

 His panting became incontrolable, his eyes rolled out, his head dropped back, before he finally reached his peak. You felt the deep vibration of his ultimate cry on your hand, as your other hand was dripping of hot seed. You slowly removed your other hand from his face, and could contemplate your masterpiece :  the Soldier absolutely looked like a mess, with his red face, his eyes blinking furiously, covered with his own saliva. You left his leg, both your hands dripping of his bodily fluids. You used the one that was on his lips to pick his head and forced him to look at you. You ravished your vision of this man who absolutely surrendered to your good care, deeply satisfied with your attention. You cradled his face, and you took a large lick of his spit from his chin to his mouth. Where he leaned for a wet and warm kiss. You took a good taste of him, intoxicated by whatever pheromones he could diffuse around you.

 You look at him another few seconds, before recluandly moving away, to the bathroom where you not only washed your hands, but came back with a wet towel. You first cleaned with infinite care his face, and then his genitals, making sure he wouldn’t have any kind of unpleasant sensation as he had a big day ahead of him. You were his doctor and caretaker, and he had a mission to prepare. He seemed to respond well to the cleaning, not really expressive, but he made no sudden move. You could see him sighing with ease, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek in your palm again, when you were caressing him with the wet towel. You could still hear a loud satisfying purr. If you didn’t specifically ask him to kill someone less that an hour ago, you would actually find this absolutely adorable.

 You breathed in and out, making sure he was okay. “Are you feeling better ?...” He nodded, visibly relaxed, as he was closing his pants but not much more expressive than before. He stood up, in front of you, like nothing happened. “Yes.” But to your surprise he added a second later. “Thank you, doctor.” You smiled at him as you couldn’t keep yourself from making your knuckles caressing his cheek, and finally tracking the shape of his jaws. “Good boy.” You heard yourself say, wondering what the fuck was wrong with you.He didn’t react. All the shivers, purring,  sighing, and moans disappeared as soon as his pants closed. It was for the best, and you quickly took your hand back, clearing your throat. You call the guards. The Winter Soldier was fully ready for his mission preparation, and you asked them to give him some time to recover from… his cryostatic, before you would start the procedure.

 In the meantime, you need a shower. A long, hot, steamy, shower.